#[Doctor Baren]

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Twenty-Five — Fallout

It took me way too long to find my voice — I felt more disconnected from my body now than when I was freezing over. “When does it get easier?” I asked, voice croaky and barely there. “When do you stop feeling guilty over it?” 

5,555 words [teehee] | 20 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: violence, described spiraling, death, racism, illness

Brent pulled the sleeve of his sweater over the wrapping on his elbow as the phlebotomist, I’d discovered they’re called, filed away his blood samples in this tube holder, each one marked. 

“Stress to them that I need the results as soon as they can get them,” Dr. Sims was talking off to the side with some technician. “The full report, in email.”

The tech muttered some agreement, clearly awestruck at who he was talking to, and was gone with the vials the moment they were handed off. 

“So what’s a…microray?” Brent asked.

“Microarray,” Dr. Sims corrected. He was dressed differently today; business casual, collar of his dress shirt caught on the neckline of the wool sweater. “It’ll break down the sequencing of each individual chromosome and tell us if there’s any genetic malformations in your DNA,”

“And why would we need to know that?” Brent glanced over at Dad, who was sitting in the now-baren windowsill seats and looking out the window. Everything Dad and Brent had in this room was packed up, ready to go as soon as I got medicine from the in-hospital pharmacy. 

Dad sighed hard, staring at the sky like it had all the answers for a moment longer before turning in place to face us. “There’s something I need to explain to you both,” 

And then he began to tell us more about how Mom got sick. 

She didn’t heal immediately after having us, but the doctors brushed it off; a Conduit has to be in decent shape to heal and she simply wasn’t. She lost a lot of blood in the abruption, and the blood transfusion had to be from someone without the Conduit gene as the enzymes are dangerous to normal people, so she may have been beyond drained out. That’s what they thought, at least. “They told us to give it a week,” Dad said, “That we’d probably see progress by then.”

They didn’t. Instead, Mom was discharged, and then back in the hospital nearly two days later for MRSA. 

The Doctors contributed the infection to her weakened system, and brushed it off then as well. “When someone’s pregnant, their immune system is ass,” Dad tried to joke, with no real humor in his voice. “So they reset the healing clock on us. Told us to wait two weeks. Raising two newborns on my own when she was hospitalized was horrible, by the way,”

Two weeks came and went and her scar wasn’t gone. Her and Dad brought it up to her obstetrician, and they simply said to wait till her six week check-up. The amount of time it takes for someone normal to heal. “They did that again and again, a lot. Just told us to be patient and do it the human way,” Dad shook his head.

She began to bruise. She started getting bloody noses again. She had accidentally sliced a knuckle to the bone in a dishwashing accident and had to get stitches, which stuck around instead of dissolving almost immediately. “Healing was the first thing to disappear, and then her powers got weaker.”

Brent looked at me, fear in his eyes. “So does…does that mean Jean’s…”

“We aren’t sure yet.” Dr. Sims said. “That’s what the microarray is for. I was still in school when Fetch died — what was happening to her was what made me go in the first place. But that means we never found out what made her sick, and we’ve gotta rule out that it isn’t something genetic.”

“But didn’t you guys say it might be Augustine’s tar?” Brent asked.

“It might be,” Dad responded. “Which is where the second part of this conversation comes in.”

What the hell did that mean?

Dad took his jacket from his lap and chucked it on to the little backpack he had, hands going to his knees in its place. “Remember that holiday vacation I promised?”

What the hell did that mean? “Yeah?” I asked, glancing over at Brent with a cocked eyebrow. Was this like how people take out their dogs for the day before putting them down? Was I getting a ‘Best Day Ever’ before kicking the bucket? At least Brent seemed to be feeling the canine excitement; he was suddenly sitting perched at the end of my bed like he was waiting for Dad to ask him if he wanted to go for a walk. 

Dad smiled slightly — though it looked more like a grimace. “Have either of you ever wanted to visit New Marais?”

Brent immediately cringed, and I couldn’t blame him. New Marais was…bad. Bad enough that Theresa’s mom basically fled from there after her dad was killed. I’m pretty sure it was the world capital for place most likely to get stabbed at. There were literal robbers poised at bridges, shooting the tires of cars on the highway to make them crash so they could pilfer everything from the vehicle. The only people that’d thrive in New Marais were criminals, extortionists, and other sorts of bloodsuckers. It wasn’t a pretty place, hadn’t been in literal decades; after the flood and the fascists, it had no allure. Unless you liked French colonial structures and being assaulted. 

Even the architecture couldn’t convince Brent; he looked at me, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. “Why, uh…” I drew off. “Why New Marais?”

Dad wasn’t surprised at our apprehension — in fact, he seemed to agree with it. “There’s someone there that can help us out. Knows a bit about tar powers — but we have to be there to get answers. He’s outside of the city center, from what I understand, but it’s…”

“New Marais,” Brent said distastefully. 

Dad nodded. “New Marais.”

“That’s still Louisiana,” I said, “That’s gotta be a couple hour flight, right?”

Dad grimaced. “Actually, it’ll be a…three day drive…”

“I’m not allowed to fly.” Dr. Sims said from his place, yet again, by the sink. “Not in planes, at least. I don’t plan on flying that far with my powers, either.”

“You’re coming with us?” Brent asked, an undertone of astonishment in his voice. 

Dr. Sims nodded. “What’s happening to your sister is something I plan to see through. I didn’t get to…to help Fetch in time. I’m going to do it this time. It’s what she’d want.”

The way he talked, you’d think he and Mom were age-old friends. How well did they know each other?

The doctor came up with prescriptions, pain medicine and antibiotics and something else I couldn’t pronounce, giving directions I knew I’d forget the moment I left this room. Dad knew this too, saying, “I’ll put alarms on my phone — oh,” he reached down to the backpack, fiddling with the thing and pulling something out. “Put them on yours too.”

He tossed my phone towards my broken arm, forgetting I couldn’t exactly reach out and catch it with it held against my chest in the sling. 

Dr. Sims slipped out at some point on promises that he’d be right back — and he was. Almost within three minutes. He was a bit winded, looking past Brent and I as he helped me figure out how to put on my jacket to look straight at Dad, saying, “We’ve got an issue,”

Dad’s face immediately got steely hard, and he stood, shoulders squared. “What’s up?”

“Not that kind of—” Dr. Sims cut off, “Well, it could be. Protest.”

Dad growled. “How the hell do they know we’re here?”

“Someone probably slipped something to the media,” Dr. Sims crossed the room in a second and was at the window, looking down at the parking lot a few floors below. “Might have seen you. Looks like they’re congesting the main entrance though, so we can probably slip out back. Problem is, none of us can get to the parking garage without them seeing,”

“It’s just a few protestors,” Brent shrugged. “We can get past them.”

“It’s…” Dr. Sims trailed off. “It’s more than a few.” 

“One of us could go move the truck—” Dad started. 

“They’ll just chase us down.” 

“Is there a roof entrance?” Brent asked. “Maybe we can leave a different way, come back for the truck?”

Dad looked at him like he was an idiot. “I’m not letting your sister climb a hundred feet in the air when she can’t make the landing.”

I managed to balance the jacket on my shoulders, saying, “We should just go. Brent’s right, we’ve walked past them dozens of times before. There’s probably cops monitoring, we should be fine.”

Dad looked like he wanted to do anything, literally anything, except that. “If they get violent, Jean…” he warned. 

Oh, God. Don’t tell me he’s turning into this sort of parent. “I can still defend myself, Dad.” I insisted. He wasn’t going to start keeping me in bubble wrap, right?

Dr. Sims actually came to my rescue. “We’ll all be there, she should be fine.”

“We can even escort her,” Brent added, amused. “Like some c-list celebrity.”

Dad bit at his cheek, unsure — but also entirely out of options. “Fine, okay,” He said. “We’ll move quick. Eugene, think you can guard Jean while she gets in the truck? I’ll cover Brent.”

Well, at least I wasn’t the only one he was being overprotective of. “Sure,” Dr. Sims said. 

They found a formation when we stood in the elevators, just in case some people made it into the lobby of the hospital; Brent and Dr. Sims stood in front of me, flanking each side for space while Dad stayed behind me. A full cover of large, powerful bodyguards to make up for the fact that I was now weak. It felt so demeaning. I was some weak spot in the family now, a risk that they’d have to mind at all times. 

As the elevator doors opened up into a hallway, I could hear them, a dozen voices, maybe even bordering on a hundred, all chanting angrily — although I couldn’t make out what. Brent cast an unsure look over his shoulder, asking, “Maybe we should stay a while?”

Dad’s face was steeled. “There’s no point.” he said plainly, a sudden shift from his hesitancy before. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

Still, as we passed an electronic map in the hall, Dad’s hand came out and drained it of all imagery, matching Dr. Sims in power. 

The lobby was huge and fancy and white, with some big fountain fixture in the middle, its white noise barely doing anything to silence the voices. The windows, though, were big enough to show how many people there were. There were at least a hundred, all being forced to the sides by police so that the actual entrance to the hospital would be clear for patients and visitors, with three separate news vans recording the tension. “Fucking hell,” Dad muttered behind me. 

“At least there’s cops?” I offered, not entirely sure that was a good thing. Rarely was. 

“Stay looking forward, stay walking, don’t engage,” Dad listed off behind me. “You hear me, Brent? Don’t engage—”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you,” Brent muttered, going a bit red. 

The foyer of the hospital had a line of police whose eyes I avoided; just gotta stay in step and keep moving forward. Easy enough. 

All of that assurance disappeared when we stepped outside to what was moments away from becoming an angry mob. But what I wasn’t prepared for was to be confronted with images of me; a grainy picture of me trying to get the huge concrete rock to not hit the helicopter, my Linus Pauling yearbook picture. The signs were all littered with words, accusations: Shot out of the sky on the ones with the footage, a sign with just the number 137 on it, the 7 written on a sticky note. An update on the death count. 

Me. They were protesting me. 

And as we stepped further into the light, the protestors zeroed in on me, and the general yelling became targeted insults that somehow melted into white noise and also stood out to me all at once. “Dirty Bio-terrorist!” one person yelled. 

“There’s over fifteen thousand unemployed, I hope you’re happy!”

“You killed my brother!” 

“We’re homeless now!”

“Someone oughta hold your head underwater!”

I didn’t realize I was frozen in place until Dad’s arm wrapped around me, and he began to roughly steer me through the slight divot in the crowd Dr. Sims and Brent’s bodies had made. “C’mon, Jean,” he muttered, voice as stiff as could be. 

There was no getting through the crowd here; the flow of the protestors followed us like what I imagine wolves hunting elk did. But was it fair to paint them as the predators when they were the real victims here? If the Big Bad Wolf was on trial for the murder of those pigs, could you blame other swine for wanting to swallow him whole? 

And that wasn’t an exaggeration; the crowd seemed to push closer in until they were claustrophobically close, until the heat of their insults warmed my skin. There was a shout, louder than the rest, and suddenly Brent was slamming himself into my side, arm steeled and shield up and I stumbled and yelled in pain. Something crashed against it with a musical ping, and a rather large decorative rock from the piles in the medians fell between his feet. 

“The fuck, dude?” Brent shouted, swiping the rock up from his feet. He looked about ready to chuck it back, trying to get a good eye on whoever threw it. 

“Things are getting out of hand,” Dr. Sims warned. 

Dad tucked me closer into his side and walked faster, repeating under his breath again and again, “Stay looking forward, keep walking,” as if he was moments away from also going after people. 

Brent stayed posted on my other side with his shield up all the way until we got to the entrance of the parking garage, people filtering around the entrance that was currently occupied by a few cars trying to either find parking or pay for it. Only protestors, though — all of those cops that had congregated the entrance? They were nowhere to be seen. The one running interference now was Dr. Sims, who stepped to the side, pushed us all into the stairwell, and then lifted his hands, blue light beginning to swirl around them. 

“Eugene, what the hell are you doing?” Dad asked, pushing me up a step. 

“Buying us some time. Go!” He demanded. “I’ll catch up.”

He waved those arms, and the air in front of him began to turn blue and solidify. Parts of it went silver like Brent, other parts stayed blue, and it began to take on a humanoid form when Dad pushed me again, forcing me up the stairwell. 

Brent was in the lead, taking two at a time and looking back to watch me struggle to climb. God, the cut in my side was throbbing with each rough breath. Dad stayed behind me chanting encouraging reassurances, like “You’ve got this, Jeanie,” and “Last flight of stairs, c’mon.” 

Thank god — I didn’t think I could go much farther.

Dad rushed us to his truck, opening the back door on the drivers’ side and forcing us both in there. “Brent, cover your sister for me. I’ll get us out of here,” 

“Shouldn’t we wait for Dr. Sims?” Brent asked, crawling in awkwardly after me. 

“He’ll catch up,” he reassured us. 

Wasn’t sure how someone was supposed to catch up to a moving vehicle, but okay. 

Brent’s shield was gone, but both arms were steeled now, covering my head and neck as he practically forced me to duck into his lap. I couldn’t see anything that was going on besides the shifts in light, but God, I could hear those protestors, louder than before and seemingly arguing with something. Did Dr. Sims…start a fight? 

I peeked up from Brent’s lap just as the light shifted to see the protestors trying to fight their way into the parking garage against…eight tall, armored, blushed-blue winged angels.

“What the fuck?” I whispered, watching these angels levitate a mere ten inches off of the ground, refusing to part for the protestors — and cars — trying to come in. 

“Get ready,” Dad warned us. Brent forced my head back down. 

Dad honked the horn twice and there was a sudden collection of shouts from the protestors before Dad revved the engine and peeled out of there, throwing the truck so roughly right that I left Brent’s lap and nearly flew into the floorboard. There were more shouts, insults and curse words thrown our way that were drowned out by the truck’s roar and distance as Dad sped out of the area. 

I stayed down for three minutes before Dad sighed hard and called back, “You’re good now, Jeanie.”

I could barely move. Those people, nearly a hundred people, came to the hospital to protest because I was there. Because of what I did. 

“You okay?” Brent asked me. 

I just stayed staring at the rock on the floorboard, the one aimed for me. How could I be okay? 

We were well on the highway and nearly to the connection bridge that crossed to the other side of the Sound when the truck suddenly lurched as something slammed into the truck bed. Dad cursed as we both yelped, swerving in his lane so hard that the people beside us honked furiously as Brent and I spun around to see what happened.

Dr. Sims was in the bed face down, the groan audible from where we were despite the ambiance of rolling down the highway at 65 miles an hour.

“What the fuck was that?” Dad demanded, head whipping back to look at us and looking straight just as quickly as he moved to the right lane, slowing down. 

“It’s uh,” Brent cocked his head. “It’s Dr. Sims? But he isn’t looking too good…”

He wasn’t looking anything. He hadn’t moved, face plastered in the lateral grooving of the truck bed.

Dad moved over until he was on the shoulder of the highway, putting the car in park and hopping out to check on Dr. Sims. “You good, Eugene?” he asked. 

“Had to…couldn’t find you. Made an angel…fly me around. Out,” I could hear him groan through the window. “You’d think…I’d know how to land by now,”

“Well if your powers gave out, you couldn’t exactly stop it.” Dad shook his head. “C’mon, get in the truck,”

This was met by a loud groan that lasted for at least thirty seconds before Dr. Sims even tried to move a muscle. 

Dr. Sims was now comfortably in the passenger's side seat of Dad’s truck, thanking him like a man parched when Dad sacrificed his phone for draining. “Does that not break it?” Brent asked. 

Dad shook his head, glancing at us in the rearview mirror as Dr. Sims recovered. “Nah. Kinda just makes it short circuit for a while, but it’ll work again soon.”

Dr. Sims leaned his head back on the headrest, gasping out at the relief of the drain. “Thanks Del,” 

“Sure. At least you have good aim,”

We were returning to Salmon Bay, but only for a moment; we were going to pack, maybe eat, and then start the thirty-nine hour drive to Louisiana. A multi-state trip that Dr. Sims and Dad began trying to plan as soon as Dad’s phone turned back on. “So it’s only a ten mile difference if we go right at Salt Lake City and take the highway to Denver,” Dr. Sims hummed. “Cuts through Wyoming,”

“We could make it a road trip?” Brent offered. “Yellowstone – could go to a Broncos game—”

“We’re…crunched for time, bud,” Dad said, casting a quick glance at me in his rearview mirror. 

Right — I was the ticking time bomb now, the arsenal no one wanted around ‘cause it’d ruin days and maybe lives. I was holding the cool rock in my hand now that was aimed for my head, if what Brent chattered off at some point was true. I couldn’t even blame whoever threw it, not if they were impacted by what I did. 

I was the cause of their discontent. They weren’t there to picket Dad or Dr. Sims, or Conduits in general with its two biggest leaders in the same place — but me. Not only for the deaths — people were screaming about losing their homes, their jobs. I may have killed one hundred and thirty-four — no, one hundred and thirty-seven, now — but I ruined the lives of so many more. 

How many people were homeless now? How many people would have to scramble to live, to make money? 

Salmon Bay wasn’t hurt, at least. That’s really all I could cling on to, was that they seemed relatively untouched. The Longhouse was roped off, and there were spots in the concrete that had been ripped up, but the wood chips and body were all wiped away. 

Betty’s baby blue Beetle was in the house’s driveway, and it seemed the moment we turned down the street she was already racing out of the house, at Dad’s driver’s side in an instant and nearly yanking me out of the truck. “Oh, Regina!” She cooed, missing how I winced in pain as she gripped me tight around the abdomen. “You’re alright!”

Dad caught the grimace, gently peeling Betty off of me like you would a bandaid off of a toddler. “Okay, give her some room,” he chuckled under his breath. 

Betty stepped back, shifting her hands to my shoulders and looking me over. She glanced over my shoulder at Dad with that look, that pathetically sad one that people reserved for children’s graves and oil-slick ducklings before wiping it clear off of her face and saying, “You need to eat! Come on, I made lunch.”

There was no convincing Betty I wasn’t hungry; she actually hovered near me until I took a bite of the grilled chicken she made before finally sauntering off, satisfied. The house was different; there was a new side table shoved in beside the couch, a television on the floor next to a propped-up mounting system. The kitchen had been entirely unpacked and had a bunch of unopened bulk cleaning supplies on the counters. 

“Your family was meant to be the stars of the Potlatch,” Betty chimed in at some point. “A Potlatch is to share fortune among the tribe, and that’s what we planned to do for you all so that moving in would be more comfortable. Furniture, linens, the like — there were so many in the reservation that found something in good quality to donate. While you were…” She drew off, hesitating before going with, “In the hospital, I called in some favors and had everything moved in. In fact, I want to show you your room when you’re done!”

“We’re practically all moved in, now,” Dad added. “‘Course there’s probably a bunch of little things we’re forgetting, but for now, this is gonna be home.”

Yet another big change. 

“Speaking of moving, though.” Dad added, taking a moment to chew on his food before continuing, “I found something when I was going through your stuff, Brent.”

Brent froze, fork midway to his mouth, and the blush from the cold outside almost immediately left his face as he paled. “Oh, really?” He tried to play cool. 

Dad snorted, not ignorant to what he was doing. “Relax, you’re not in trouble. Not big trouble, anyways. But c’mon, man, why did you think having weed in a lawyer's house was a good idea? You know how deep of shit you would have gotten into if I found it before all of this?”

Brent blinked. “You’re…not mad?”

Dad barked out a laugh. “You really think I wasn’t smoking weed at your age? But Brent, son — it’s legal. You couldn’t wait till you were eighteen?”

Brent was still absolutely baffled at how this conversation was going, and I’m sure if we could hear the cogs in his brain, they’d be grinding so hard against each other that the sound would make us all cringe. “I’m…sorry?” he asked, not sure where he was supposed to go with this. 

Dad shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t matter much, now. You have a higher metabolism, so getting high off of…regular stuff won’t be easy. That does not mean to try anything harder.” He stressed. “But if you plan on using dab pens, get ready to have to pull that fucker for a good eight minutes—”

“Delsin!” Betty chastised, Dr. Sims stifling a laugh from the couch. 

Once they wound down and Dad mumbled his apologies, I spoke up, asking, “When do we leave?”

Dad hummed, thinking. “Tonight, probably. Less traffic, less people. We can all take turns too, since you two have your permit — well, you probably can’t Jean, but you could,” he directed towards Brent. “Eugene and I are gonna finish deciding which route we’re taking, and we’ll go after everyone packs.” He looked over his shoulder at Dr. Sims. “You’re sure you have everything you need?”

Dr. Sims shrugged. “For the most part. My laptops are still in your truck, and my go bag has enough supplies for a week without access to, say, washers or something. I don’t need much more.”

“I think I’m done,” I said, standing and abandoning the meal that was barely dug into. “I’m gonna go down to my room, start packing.”

“Oh! Let me show you where everything is—” Betty began, but I shook my head. 

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I can find it all. Kinda wanna lay down, too.”

Betty hesitated mid-step, shooting a look over to Dad, who seemed just as concerned. “You sure, Jeanie?” he asked. 

I hated how they all were looking at me. “Yeah, Dad. I’m sure,” I said as lightly as I could, trying not to let my annoyance come through. 

Dad slowly nodded, eyes not leaving mine. He was trying to analyze my poker face for something. “Alright. I’ll come check on you after we finalize a plan,”

Check on me. Like I couldn’t be left alone for too long without fear that I’d drop dead. “Yeah, sure,” I muttered, already turning around and heading down the hall. I ran away from their concern as quickly as I could, disappearing down into the basement and closing the door behind me, a small barrier between us all.

Betty really had put work into making the room feel less like squatting underneath a bridge and like an actual room; the mattress was now on one of those beds with storage cabinets underneath, my art chest sitting at its foot on the ground. There was a short, whitish dresser on one wall and a desk on the other, which I walked towards while pulling the rock from the protest out of my pocket, setting it on top of a bunch of random unopened school supplies. 

Right! On top of everything, I was still in high school. Because things couldn’t get worse.

Well, no, they could. I knew exactly how they could, and how I could avoid it — but I didn’t. Why should I? I plopped down on the bed, threw off my arm sling, wrapped myself up in that woven blanket with Salmon in the middle and pulled out my phone.

Was it responsibility, curiosity, or just self-loathing that led me to wanting to look up more about the flood in Seattle? Probably all three. I needed to see what I did, how it impacted everyone because…didn’t I have a duty of care here? Didn’t I have a responsibility to care?

It would have been so much easier if I didn’t.

There was some footage from the fight from that helicopter, and that was really the only place I found anyone in my defense; the reporter, cameraman and pilot all lived, thank God, and it seemed like there were people in agreement that that was my initial plan. That’s where it ended, though. 

There was a tag specifically for the tsunami everywhere, littered with people asking for donations to online fundraisers and if anyone knew which amnesty hotels still had rooms available. I hadn’t considered there would still be people missing too, unaccounted for in the chaos of recovery; .pdfs with faces and names and case numbers all littered the tag with family and friends begging them to come home. And the vitriol. 

Another Rowe, ruining lives, one said. 

There was a picture of my mom with a 289 above her, the image beside it of me at that art expo I won last year, side by side with the judges and Dad, 134 over it.  The entire thing was titled apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. 

There were already politicians using what happened as their campaign fodder, speaking of how Conduits cannot be trusted to keep civilization safe if they’re able to live in it. “One Conduit has a bad day, and the body count is in the hundreds. A juvenile Conduit just killed over a hundred people in Seattle, injured thousands, and disrupted the lives of over seven hundred thousand people. This is a child who goes to school with your children, who doesn’t have control over their powers yet — what are we supposed to do when the next Conduit with absolutely no control over their abilities messes up? How can we trust we’re safe when these people don’t even seem to have control over themselves?”

Gotta get a new car because Tiger Lily flooded my brand new Mazda, one complained. 

It’s gonna take more than identification, another tweeted. Pocahontas was stuck on a reservation and still managed to attack a big city. Biterrorists need to be carted off to some island.

He didn’t even spell Bio-terrorist right. 

I could barely find the energy to get angry at the racism — how could I when the next post would be one for a funeral, or a wake, or just begging for someone, anyone, to tell the poster if their family member was alive?

And God, the obituaries. There was something bleak and horrifying about seeing one for a child that knocked the wind out of me so hard I began to hyperventilate to get it back. This was worse than the seven year old at COLE. There were dozens of children, old people and middle aged ones and people my age, barely adults. So many people died. 

Waves began roaring in my ears as my breathing picked up, and while I was still looking straight at my phone screen, none of it made sense anymore. The words looked like nothing more than scribbles a child would do. That a child should be doing, not being lowered six feet into the ground or cremated or…

Oh, God, I couldn’t breathe. 

I drew my legs into my chest and squeezed my eyes shut until they felt welded together, struggling to get in enough oxygen to feel like it was reaching my lungs. Fuck. A hundred and thirty seven people. All of this, all of this, was my fault. If I didn’t get caught by that Akuran, none of this would have happened. No one would be dead, our lives wouldn’t have been upended, maybe I’d even be able to heal without worrying why it was wrong — because if I didn’t know I was Conduit, I wouldn’t even feel like anything was wrong! My cast pressing into my chest wouldn’t feel like the squeeze of an anvil threatening to crush me whole. None of this would be happening, but it was, and it was my fault. My fault. My—

The bed moved, and someone settled in behind me, hands wrapping around the wrist dug into my hair and forcing it down to my chest, crossing it and grabbing my other arm the same way. I was gently leaned back, straightened from my curled form and pulled into a chest, and could barely hear Dad through the tinnitus in my ears. “You’re having a panic attack, Jean. I need you to breathe,” he commanded softly. “Use your stomach, not your chest.” 

I tried to follow his instructions but it seemed to take two minutes just to get a neuron in my brain to spark hard enough to adjust how I breathed. Dad stayed there holding me, enveloping my little form, keeping me from doing anything else but concentrate on breathing. 

My ears stopped ringing but began to sound like they were stuffed full of cotton balls, everything far away. Even as Dad’s soothing voice broke through my harsh hiccups, it felt like I was listening to him from underwater. His arms slackened their hold on mine, one leaving to pick up my phone as he whispered, “Oh, Jean,” before closing out the picture of a 10 year old’s obituary. 

 It took me way too long to find my voice — I felt more disconnected from my body now than when I was freezing over. “When does it get easier?” I asked, voice croaky and barely there. “When do you stop feeling guilty over it?” 

He shifted to my side, pulling me in so my ear was just over his heart. “I’m not sure,” he sighed. “It hasn’t gotten better for me.”

[ilikepjo24]

Your lipstick stain is a work of art

Teaser of a Zucest fic.

His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. Once again, he found himself gazing around the white baren walls while following Dr Reiki towards his sister's room. Once again, he found himself wonder why he even keeps coming when she clearly doesn't care. Once again, he finds himself walking through the heavy wooden door and greeting the princess.

"Hello, Azula." The Fire Lord said

No response.

"How are you doing? Your doctor says you've almost reached full recovery! If you don't have another relapse in the span of the next six months you'll be officially deemed sane and will be allowed to leave! Isn't that exciting?" Zuko asks enthusiastically. But his smile falls when he gets no response. Again.

He walks towards the bed and sits beside his sister. She doesn't move at all, as if nothing happens. But something did happen and he knows that she knows. She's in full touch with reality, as opposed to what she was when she first arrived in the hospital. She knows that he is here. She hears his voice and understands what he says. She's not bound in any way and fully capable of responding. But she's ignoring him, just like she'd been doing ever since he brought her in the asylum after their Agni Kai.

"Are you planning on saying nothing again today?"

No response.

"You're not even going to say hi? Or at least nod in acknowledgement?"

No response.

He doesn't know why he's even bothering. Every single time when he visits, he goes over the same things. 'Hi', 'How are you?' and 'Aren't you going to say something?' are phrases he has repeated at least a thousand times. And she never responds.

"Fine, Azula. Be there as it may. If you're not going to say something, I will"

And so he did. He spoke about his most recent meeting, his morning with Mai, his notes on the treaty agreement that he and the Earth King agreed upon just last week. He mentioned how excited Ty Lee is with the news of Azula's condition and that both of them can't wait to have her back in the palace. Soon, he ran out of talking points and started mattering nonsense about the weather and a play he'd heard about. He went on till the sun started to set and visiting hours were over and yet, Azula still hadn't said a thing, as always.

"I have to go now. I hope next time you'll be feeling more talkative. Goodnight, Azula" Zuko mutters, feeling dejected as he walks out of the room. His sister didn't even bother to say goodbye.

"Will we be seeing you again next week, Fire Lord?" His sister's doctor asks, when he sees him walk out of the princess's room.

Zuko thought about it for a moment. Azula's been doing really well and he's really proud of her because she managed to do it on her own. He didn't have to help. He wasn't given the opportunity to help, since she hasn't said a word to him in the past year. It's clear that she doesn't need him or his attention. She honestly looks like she'd rather die than have to silently listen to him babbling for another two hours next week. And frankly, his visits always put him in a sour mood, considering that they're nothing but a reminder that Azula wants nothing to do with him.

"I don't think so, Reiki" he replies sadly. He's been thinking about it for a couple of weeks now. Why would he return? There no point in bothering Azula for no reason. Maybe it'd be better if he just stopped visiting for the next months and try to talk to her again after her release.

[templetoncircus]

Prologue

The sound of screams filled the air. The sky shone a bright blood red, the moon glowing bright red, with an upside-down pentagram engraved on it. Predastar walked down the halls, his heels clicking on the hardwood floor of the halls. He stood on the balcony of his castle, breathing in the smell of flesh filling the air, “Ah, another New’s Year for hell.” He then walked up, walking to the top balcony of his class, grabbing the microphone hanging there, tapping it a few times to make sure it works and the gather the attention of the hell-born and sinners. “Attention sinners and hell-born of Hell! The exorcism is over.” He then placed the microphone back down onto the stand, walking up further the castle, until he was standing on the tallest peak. Spreading all four of his wings wide, it blocked the moonlight of the moon, casting a shadow down to the city. With one small step forward, he fell down the tallest pear. A cloud of smoke engulfing him, only the quickly disappear as quickly it appeared. Revealing his long slender, muscular dragon frame. Soaring across the skies of Hell. Looking down, he watched as the sinners and hell-born went about their normal business. Ignoring the mangled corpses of their friends and neighbors, some even eating them. Everything back to normal, as if nothing had happened. He flew for a long, long time.

Eventually the environment and atmosphere changed, as he entered a new ring. The Greed Ring. Everything was cold and dark. He flew above a massive town, Mafia town, where all the richest mafia bosses lived. Overhead he saw a massive ice castle, which stood tall and proud, behind it a massive city, signs covered in ice and snow. Lights flashing bright colors. Some of the signs reading ‘Bars” or “CASINO!” It was like Las Vegas, if it took a vacation to the Antarctic. Stopping in front of the massive doors of the palace, Predastar quickly changed back to his human, demon form. His black crown oozing blood shining brightly above his massive horns. Using his cane, he knocked three times on the solid doors. The sound solid and not very echoey like a normal door. He waited a while, soon before a tall thin, and pale man opened the door. His eyes mismatched, and trippy. He wore a tall white doctor's coat over his shoulders and wore black pants and shirt underneath, a small satchel around his waist.

“Ratchet, my dear brother!”

“Predastar” he said, his voice sounded tired and slightly gritty.

“You don’t sound happy to see me, why would that be?” Predastar questioned, a playful tone in his dark gravelly voice, slightly tilting his head, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Name a single younger sibling who would be happy to see their older brother. I’m all years.” Ratchet said cockily.

“Hmm,” Predastar thought, tapping his chin as if he was in deep thinking, “Ezra! Ezra’s always happy to see their older brother, It’s Hattie for fuck sakes, who wouldn't be happy to see him?”

“Me” Ratchet said plainly, “now, what is it you so desire from me dear brother?”

“I just wanted to come check in, see how the Greed Ring survived the Exorcist!”

“Ah, well everything went smoothly, lost some unfortunate souls, but overall, the population was not much affected by the Exorcism. Remember dear brother, they angels only really attack the Pride Ring, Afterall that is where Lucifer Morningstar is. So, the Pride Ring is their main priority.”

Predastar remained silent, knowing his brother was right. He looked around, the cold breeze hitting his skin, the baren ice wasteland, the place his brother called home, Antartica, Hell on earth. Each ring had a passage each, sending demons into the respective area the ring represents in the real world. The Greed ring having two. Antartica, to represent the cold hearted, greedy, bastards that make up the Greed Ring. But it also leads up to Las Vegas! Full of casinos and luxury, a place for men to spend all their money, and come back broke filled with regret and hungover. He looked back at Ratchet, “Fair point brother, the angels coming here must just be looking for fresh meat, after all! They've most likely seen the Pride Ring a thousand times by now. Why go back, when you hunt new territory.” Ratchet nodded his head “True, but can’t do much damage with just one or two angels, verse an entire angel army.” Ratchet then moved aside, finally letting predastar inside the frozen castle he called home.

He followed Ratchet inside, sitting down on a very comfortable and surprisingly warm chair and table, drinking some hot tea. “So, now that I am here, have you heard anything from the other sins? Overlords?”

“Yes, I have heard from Theo”

“Shocking” Predastar said sarcastically, smirking

“Oh, shut up! I’m allowed to talk to my boyfriend”

“Still surprised. You were aroace for centuries, them Theo comes along and you both change and become asexual. Not complaining”

“I was aroace for centuries because I could never find anyone, so I gave up. So yes, I changed when I met Theo, someone who actually made me feel the feeling I wanted to feel.”

“Hey! I never said I was complaining!”

“Doesn’t mean you thought it. I know you too damn well Predastar!”

“Why are you getting angry at me?”

“I am not. I’m just stating I know you to well.”

“I’m omnisexual. Why would I complain about you being asexual?”

“Im nothing saying-” he stops himself, taking a deep breath “I'm not saying your homophobic, i just stating that you're still complaining about the fact that I changed my sexuality after about 500 years. It’s more just you’re still adjusting to the fact that I have a lover now, aren’t you~?”

Predastar playfully rolled his eyes, smirking as he sipped his tea. “Maybe, but yes, it’s more just a I'm not used to seeing you with someone. I’m happy your happy though, so it’s nothing wrong.” Predastar quickly claimed before taking another sip of his tea. Ratchet raised an eyebrow, smirking. He chuckled darkly to himself. Predastar examined his brother closely, watching as he sipped his tea and smirked. “So, what’s that twisted dark brain of yours thinking?” Ratchet chuckled again, “You really expect me to believe you flew your fiery hot veined ass all the way here just to ask me about the population loss~? I know you too damn well! What is it you're really thinking about my dear brother?”

Predastar laughed, “Oh fair well, I guess about 500 years together, you know me too well. So! I have a soul, you remember, Eric. As you know, I own his soul, and well, he’s radar has shown again~” Ratchet froze, setting his tea cup down, his grin growing. “Has it now? Do tell” “His radar has been persistent at Ravenswood Manor. Looks like our little friend has...made a new home.” “Let me guess, an upcoming solar eclipse plays a part?” Indeed. We need a catchy name to call this special event” “hmmm, how about the ‘Hour of Terror’!”

“No, too easy, we need something that sounds, playful. Something that’ll make people shiver”

“Your right, how about ‘The Hour of the Eclipse’!”

Ratchet just raised an eyebrow. “Yea you’re right. It's a good runner up though...” Predastar was lost in thought.

“How about ‘The Hour of Carnage���? Or ‘Eclipse of the Dammed’?”

“Oh, sounds gruesome! But also, generic.”

Ratchet rolled his eyes in annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well so far, my ideas are much better than yours!” he yelled, Predastar laughing and raising his hands in mock defense. “Okay, okay, i get it. How about...Oh! How about the Hour of Joy©!”

“Already taken”

“What! By who?”

“Remember that really weird old toy factory where the toys were made from experiments on the kids and staff? That closed in the 90s?”

“Damn it.” he muttered in frustration “Then, how about ‘Eclipse of Shadows’? It’s simple and easy.”

“How about the ‘Hour of the Eclipse’?”

“Yes! Thats the one. The Hour of the Eclipse is upon us!” Predastar cheered triumphantly. He looked back at Ratchet, smiling mischievously, “Spread the word to Theo and the rest of the Templeton’s, we have a bloody reunion to make.” Ratchet nodded his head, his grin growing. He took one look out the glass window, seeing the moon and sun, both have some distance between them. His grin grew wider, nothing but mischief in his eyes.

[thedoctornumber11]

send " i'm proud of you. " for receiver to react to yours in a moment of vulnerability.

The Doctor looked up at her and attempted to smile. "I know," he told her as he looked towards the baren wasteland in front of them. It just wasn't enough. It was never enough.

[aceofhearth]

For today on Dromeda, we name people of current significance, and some who aren't so involved in the politics of war as well. This will be split into two different parts, as I have a lot more names to do, and even an extra treat for part to to create.

The Orem'a family, the leading family of the Empire. Head of said family is the Emperor Gale Orem'a, nicknamed "Sol Bringer" Light Bringer. An ironic name of hypocrisy as the title itself is to do with the goal of bringing peace, but the man is quite frankly one who is war mongering around the continents.

The Meadow'Ren family, known for the High Royals to be strange in how they title themselves as aspects, the general custom being just an "Aspect of War", meanwhile the Meadow'Ren title themselves as "Aspects of Wisdom" or "Aspects of Valor". The head of this family is High Queen Havor Meadow'Ren.

Cane En'Terr'a: Sol'a Cane (Sol'a meaning Head Priest of the Sun). Cane of the Sol Temple is a frail, old man, one who seems to both be unnaturally aged and unnaturally older then any other human being. He is the second leader of the religion of Sol, the first being lost to history as due to Cane being almost 100, the previous leader was so long ago that those who don't study the history have already forgotten.

Currently Cane heads for peace between the Emperor and High Queen, but his words often fall on deaf ears.

From this point on, it will introduce to new "Kingdoms" you may call them. Although both in particular are not a kingdom, as the people there do not see it so.

The Kingdom of Earth, although not its true title, that being "The Flourishing Land". The land itself back when even the gods weren't around was dead and baren, yet over decades past, through the usage of blood magic to influence the growth of nature, humanity was able to for the first time, heal the world's wounds. Currently as it is, it rivals the continent of Dromeda in terms of plant and animal life/diversity. This land is peaceful, and not needing to worry about invaders as the most dangerous side is blocked by the mountain Sol's Torch.

The appointed family, known as the leading botanists of the land, are the "Marinus" family. The head of the family being Lady Dracaen Marinus. She is known as the world's greatest doctor, and also in passing has been called similar to that of a witch with her medical knowledge of herbal brews used as medicine.

The last place the leaders will not be named until part 2. As they have multiple leaders rather then just one family. But a bit of its history will be shared.

The Land of the Wronged it shall be called. People who are not from here seem to believe it is filled with wrong doers, but no. The land is filled with people of society so negatively effected by the decades of everlasting wars that coming here in order to survive was all that was left. Many different communities are planted within this vast land, but there are specifically 11 major ones, each with its own elected leader. These leaders we do not know the names of, but their titles are easy to understand, as they are named after constellations in the sky.

[wouldhope]

neotheaterz·: 

listen , things are not going well for you at this moment , and it almost seems like it keeps getting shitter for you , of course you expected your grip on code to be looser here, but to instantly waver and leave you almost baren in a form that looks like a hodgepodge of what was expected from humanity, add on a few bits and bobs - well . That’s what is standing Infront of the scientist at the moment , the shade of your face almost making your features obscure as one narrow yellow eye dilated into a slit at the hands grasping upon your tail .

he’s aggressive , and you’re unable to hide the shit eating grin on your features as he starts threatening you with a weapon that looks half way busted to hell - but you appease him by raising your clawed hands innocently , rolling your eyes.

“ calm down there Captain .. I’ll answer your questions dude - just chill out waving that thing round whatever.. uhh.. you’re saying a lotta stuff right now so im gonna have to ask you to slow it down a little ‘kay ? but what i did here umm.. counter terrorists vs . terrorists ain’t my style - im more like.. whoever’s winning y'know - counter strike isn’t my way to play im a PVE typa dude - ”

“ uhhh .. as for alien - I dunno man.. i don’t consider myself an alien - but I guess it depends how you see it ? am I not from your little planet ? yeah bro, but i’m not an alien - ’s complicated . BUT what i can say is that gun you’re holdin - it’s not gonna do anything to me.. ’s a waste of ammo ”

      “DAMN RIGHT I’M THE CAPTAIN! Captain... Doctor Freeman. I’ll have to work on making that title roll off the tongue better... and DON’T you fucking tell ME to calm down!” While he was clearly appeased by the title of ‘captain’ - it made him sound like a pirate, he fucking loved pirates - he’s still aggravated by just about everything else that comes out of their mouth. Slow it down? Counter terrorists? PVE? It’s complicated? What in the FUCK are they talking about? It takes just about all his self restraint not to interrupt or pistol-whip them. 

      “Whoever’s winning, huh? Well, then you’d better be siding with ME. The rest of these fucking lemmings are gonna die down here, but me? I’m getting the fuck out of here - I’M a goddamn WINNER.” There he goes on his egotistical rambling, despite the clear evidence that this place was taking its toll on him. He’d lost an eye, for fucks sake - but that didn’t deter him one bit. He was too good to die in this fucking shithole! “And whatever, sure, I don’t care what you call yourself -- but you’re not human, that’s for damn sure. But if you stop talking like a fucking TOOL and don’t try to kill me like the rest of these fuckin’ animals, MAYBE I’ll spare you.” 

      How would he kill the thing if it wasn’t hurt by bullets? Who knows. He’d figure out a way. He was Gordon fucking Freeman, after all - and for all he knows, that whole invincible thing was just a bluff. “So what are ya gonna do, huh?! Stayin’ down here or what?” 

      He rolls his eyes, biting his tongue -- at least the guy backed off, but still, the urge to cuss them out remains, even without reason. He’s still seething as he always is, feeling venomous as he readies himself to continue his ranting -- but then something else catches his attention. It catches the security guard’s attention, too -- a tail seems to have suddenly appeared, and it clearly wasn’t fake. It was moving. His interest is piqued, though that only makes the others words sound like nails on a chalkboard.

      “Would ya SHUT UP already?! With your stupid fuckin’ -- words --” Freeman doesn’t know what half of that shit means, and he doesn’t care, circling them like a vulture before he proves their own efforts to grab their tail futile as he takes hold of it, simultaneously fascinated and incredibly suspicious. “You’re an alien, then. Trying to TRICK ME or somethin’ were ya? Thought you could FOOL ME?!” 

      He readies his gun with a glare, pointing it at the other, trigger finger just itching to pull -- but he doesn’t fire, not yet. Any other human that took him for some sort of idiot like that would be dead on the spot, but since they seemed to be one of the only aliens of human intelligence in this mess, well... He would spare them, for now. At least until he got some information out of them. As a scientist, he knew an opportunity like this couldn’t be missed.

      “Alright -- whose side are you on, huh? WHY are you here? And why th’ fuck are you the only one of these dumb pieces of shit that can TALK? Answer me or I swear to GOD I’ll blow your fucking BRAINS OUT.” 

[brassclaws-of-oddworld]

((I hate these two fuckers so goddamn much.  But, I’m glad I’m drawing them more than once.  Have my two abominations dressed in some party clothes!  They got the drip, and are ready to impress.  At least until somebody pisses Wayne off and it ends with him doing this:

[talisidekick]

I walk to work, rain or shine, in 34°C or (as of recently) -15°C (the -35°C below temps haven't hit yet). I'm very paranoid about getting grabbed or assaulted as I walk through rural streets, so I often don't listen to music on these stretches before I hit the busier 4 lane streets just to keep my ears open, and if I DO listen to music it's one tick up from mute and only in one ear. In the summer it's like out of a horror novel with bugs and spiders hanging from the trees that line the road and a canopy so thick it only casts sparse columns of sunlight that act as tiny glimmers of hope and salvation, in fall it's gorgeously orange and yellow hallway that as leaves fall from those tree's it casts a magic from a different time. But in winter ... it's a wind funnel, a hollow breath of ice and death that the only reprieve from is a dead haunting silence.

So I'm walking down this road, feeling like the very crunch of the snow under my boots is a glaring and hated mark of trespass in the dead silence, when for the first time in well over a thousand journeys of this route I hear a childs voice joyously shout "Hello!". So I look around and there's no one on the street, not two streets in either direction. It's a ghost town. Did I hallucinate? Was that my brain playing tricks on me? But I hear giggling, so I know my confusion is clearly enjoyable to some rather crafty kid who's decided I'm prey to their little game of hide-and-seek. But the giggle is a give-away, a house I had yet to pass, second story window, a tiny face smiling and poorly containing laughter. Something about how the snow reflects sound and the baren trees made the voice sound like it was right behind me. So I wave.

And then I hear a womans voice go "what are you doing?". The child goes "Saying 'Hi' to the kitty lady!". I wear cat-ears from halloween all the time. You only live once, might as well do SOMETHING fun, and so far everyone has enjoyed the ears. I get complimented constantly. But not from this woman, no. She comes to the window as I'm walking past and she looks like she's never had a day of fun in her life. That face reminds me of my mothers, the kind of person that's sole joy is sucking the happiness from a childs life. That scowl, all too damn familiar. She says nothing to me. Just tells her daughter she shouldn't talk to me specifically and leaves. So I turn around one last time, and that kid is again at the window looking at me. So I wave, turn on my heel and just keep heading to work. A little giggle at my back.

All of this was only a few seconds, but fuck yes kid, don't let that woman suck the joy out of your life. Hope you have something cool to tell your friends at school. And also, if tumblr's still around when you grow old enough to maybe see this post: thank you for the gender affirmation. My face was masked up behind a mask of stars and an 11ft. scarf from the 4th Doctor, but you had this trans woman smiling. I'm the "Kitty Lady".

[metaphor-cheese]

soooo...i wrote a thing

“Hey Dr. Muffinshirt!” Buford slapped his hands down on the table eagerly.

“Oh, hey kid.” The scientist said distractedly as he finished writing his note. Buford took the moment to pull his step stool out from under the desk so he could see the blueprint easier. With a smile, Doof dramatically dropped his pencil in triumph before turning to his protégé. “So,” he said excitedly, gesturing to the finished design. “What do you think?”

“Looks pretty cool! …What is it?”

“It’s my Go-to-Bed-Without-Any-Dinner-Inator!” The doctor declared, putting on his Evil Voice™ as he raised his arms to the sky. “You see,” he continued, speaking in his Monologue Voice (patent pending) out of habit. “As a young boy back in Gimmelshtump, whenever I would misbehave my parents would send me to bed without ANY dinner. The problem was, back in Drusselstein people were so superstitious, ‘misbehaving’ could be as simple as scratching your nose or your shoe lace becoming untied.”

“Oof. Sounds like my dads house.”

“Oh and don’t get me started on sneezing!” Doof shuddered. “Anyway, as you can imagine I went without dinner a lot.” His tone took on the a dramatic, sombre tone. “Night after night I would sit in my room- well, I say my room it- it was the shed- practically wasting away with only my breakfast pork rinds to keep me going! Eventually I would cry myself to sleep…” Clenching his fist, Doof lowered his head to the floor. …Before casually adding “Well y’know, before I was woken up for my lawn gnome duties.”

“Man.” Buford said, awkwardly. “That’s rough, buddy.”

“Yeah, well, I’m totally over it now.” Doof waved it off. “That’s why I built the Go-To-Bed-Without-Any-Dinner-Inator! Or the GTBWADI for short. Ha! Say that 5 times fast! Gtbwadi, gtwb…adi…see?! Already, it’s impossible and that was what, the second time? …Where…” nervously he laughed. “Where was I? I’ve completely lost my train of thought…”

“What’s it do?” Buford said bluntly. Doof snapped his fingers in triumph.

“Right!” Again, he was back to his Monologue Voice. “When this ‘inator blasts someone, it will INSTANTLY cause their mother to send them to bed without any dinner! This way everyone in the ENTIRE TRI-STATE AREA!!! …will be trapped in their rooms, starving and they will finally know my pain!” Instantly his tone snapped back to a happy one. “Plus, it means there’ll be no lines at all the fancy restaurants. You know what that means? We’re eating like kings tonight, buddy!”

Buford grinned back at him and the two threw their arms in the air with an excited “WOO!” A third, robotic voice joined from across the room joined in.

“Not you, Norm!” Doof snapped. “You don’t even need to eat. Plus you’re like 10 feet tall, how will you even fit through the door?”

“I JUST WANTED TO FEEL INCLUDED.” The robot replied in his usually chipper tone.

“Yeah, well if you wanna be included so bad could you call Charlene and tell her I’m taking Vanessa out for a family dinner tonight?”

“BUT, SIR, IT’S NOT YOUR WEEKEND.”

He rolled his eyes. “Why’d you think I’m asking you to call her?” As Norm left the room, he added “AND MAKE SURE TO TELL HER TO BRING HER BEST CLOTHES!”

“Hey Doc?” Buford asked, furrowing his brows and bringing his attention back to him. “If everyone’s gonna be home tonight, why don’t ya just conquer the tristate area then?”

Doofs eyes lit up.

“Holy schnitzel. You’re right!”

“I am?”

“Yes! Oh man, why didn’t I think of that?” With a sheepish laugh, doof looked away. “Man that’s…that’s embarrassing. Oh- but! But our family dinner! Aw man… You-You know what?” He waved his hands and dismissed the thought. “I deserve this. We can do both! Eat a nice dinner and THEN conquer the tri-state area. It’ll be like pregaming!”

“Cool! …What’s pregaming?”

“You’ll find out when you’re older.”

-

“Aaaaand tada! There’s the place!” Doofinshmirtz gestured dramatically to the baren fancy restaurant. The three (Norm had convinced him to let him go) others, oo’d and ahh’d.

“Wow.” Vanessa uttered, actually sounding impressed for once. “I gotta hand it to you, Dad,” she conceded, placing a hand on his arm. “This is actually pretty nice.”

“Aw, thank you, darling.” He cooed. Internally he added the first tally to the win side his side of a ‘wins/loses’ chart.

“Seems like a boring, adult place.” Buford said sceptically. Doof placed a hand on his shoulder.

“They’ll have steak.”

Instantly, the childs eyes lit up again. “Really?” With an eager, predatory grin, he pulled his lucky knife and fork out of hammer space and cheered “Bufords back in the game!”

Just then, though none of them noticed, an explosion erupted from the balcony of Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated behind them. Almost instantly, a line formed in front of the restaurant down the block, accompanied by cries of “I’m starving!”

Doofs face fell.

“Great.” Vanessa drawled, voice flat. “Nice job, Dad.” Doof could practically feel the tally mark being scratched off.

“Wh…I don’t understand! Just a minute ago I had-“ with a look of realisation, he whirled around to see his home building among the skyline. Despite the explosion having since faded, he didnt need visual confirmation to confirm what had happened. Many emotions bubbled within him. Anger, frustration, disappointment, ect. But he was so used to it by this point he could bring himself to express any of them. Instead he just sighed and dropped his head with a bitter “Curse you Perry The Platypus, yada yada…”

“Man…” Buford grumbled, moodily. “I had my heart set on that steak.”

“I can’t believe you called me over on Mom’s weekend for this!”

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Doof cried, defensively. Irritably, he held out the keg of gasoline in his hand. “If we didn’t have to stop at the gas station for NORM we could have gotten first in!”

“YOU CAN’T LET ME HAVE ANYTHING!” The robot retorted, voice cheery as always.

“Ugh, you’re missing the point, Dad!” Vanessa snapped, whirling on him. “If we didnt rely on your ridiculous ‘inators, that always fail, to do anything, we could be eating by now!” Buford looked conflicted on if he really had a right to agree with that sentiment when he helped with them, though he eventually settled on just crossing his arms grumpily.

“SHE HAS A POINT, SIR.” Norm cut in.

“Who’s side are you on?!” Doof snapped.

Meanwhile, Perry was swooping above the city on his hang glider, looking down at his work, proudly. The Flynn-Fletchers should be able to catch their reservation at Paul Bunyans now, so the boys didnt have to be disappointed. As he was flying over the streets, however, he noticed a different family unit.

It was hard to hear what was being said over the wind rushing past his ears, but their body language was unmistakable. Vanessa was mad at doof again, and it looked like Buford was too. Norm was hard to read as always. His nemesis, however, looked torn between hurt and angry. He was truly backed into a corner. (…Emotionally this time, not physically.)

Perry churred in sympathy for the kids, though ultimately there was nothing he could do. Dr D had to face the consequences of his actions and his days work was done. He had a family of his own to return to now.

Despite this, as he completely passed the group, his conscience nagged at him. Evil or not, doof truly had wanted to take his kid and pseudo-kids out for a family dinner. Perhaps if he had waited a little while longer to thwart his scheme…

Perry shook his head. He was an agent. He had a mission to accomplish. End of story.

…So why couldnt he stop thinking about them?

As he was on his way home, he spotted a familiar flash of red in the park and swooped in for a closer look. Landing discreetly in a tree, he looked down at the scene to see, what looked like, his family and their friends enjoying a whole neighbourhood-wide picnic. Linda and Lawrence were standing by a table covered in homemade delicacies chatting with Vivian, the boys were sat on a picnic blanket with Isabella and Baljeet, talking, and Candace and Jeremy were little ways away enjoying a quiet picnic together.

Everyone looked perfectly happy.

It wasn’t the dinner they’d planned for tonight, but it seemed they’d found something that worked. Perry felt a smile tug on his bill. He didnt need to ask (not that he could) to know who organised this. He should have known his boys would be fine without him.

…Fine without him.

…He’d left the family a few times overnight in the past. It had never caused a huge upset before. Phineas and Ferb only ever got worried if he was gone in the morning. And they seemed so happy now they would probably never notice if he slipped off for a little longer today…

Screw it.

With a determined look, Perry turned and leapt from the tree, flying back into the city.

-

“-I mean, I didn’t want to say anything, but I read the reviews for that place and- yeesh! Bad service much? Seriously, we’re better at home. Who even needs th-“ Doof glanced behind him mid-rant and stopped. Vanessa was trudging behind him, carrying those stupid heels her mother bought her with a pointed glare. She didn’t need to say anything to tell him he wasn’t helping. Even Norm was quiet of sarcastic remarks, just walking behind her silently with the kid on his shoulder. It seemed he was using the robot’s ear phone to call his mom to pick him up. Doof couldnt blame him.

With a sigh, he gave Vanessa a pitying look, glancing between her and the heals. “Do you need to sit down, pumpkin?” He offered weakly. She only scoffed and rolled her eyes before dropping down on the curb and propping her head up on her hands. Norm stopped dead in place beside her. Doof sighed again and trudged around the corner, collapsing against a wall where they couldnt see him.

As he buried his face in his hands, he felt a tug on the one of his coattails. Cracking one eye open with a confused hum, he glanced down, only to flinch.

“PERRY THE PLATYPUS?!” The agent at least has the decency to look sheepish at surprising him. “Oh, great,” Doof said sarcastically before snapping “what do you want?” Silently, the platypus held out a sheet of notebook paper and thumbed behind him.

“Huh? What is this- a reservation?” Doof scanned the paper with wide eyes. ‘8:30, table for 5, Lawrence Fletcher.’ “Oh, Perry The Platypus,” he drawled, touched this time. “Are you giving me thi-“ as he looked back at the animal and followed where he was pointing, his face fell. “Paul Bunyans? Really?” He asked, dryly. The agent frowned and wagged a finger at him. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, rolling his eyes. “Beggars can’t be choosers, I get it.” Looking down at the paper again, he felt a sentimental smile form against his will. “Thank you, Perry The Platypus.” He said, genuinely. The agent just smiled and tipped his hat.

“Hey, guys!” He shouted, running back to his family. Vanessa glanced over at him tiredly, while Norm and the kid seemed to be ignoring him. “Guys I- I got us a reservation somewhere!” He shouted excitedly, waving the paper about. Vanessa raised an eyebrow.

“How?” She asked, skeptically. She probably thought he stole it. Fair enough, he supposed.

“I got it from Perry The Platy-“ he turned to gesture to the agent but paused as he saw no one there. “…Huh. That’s funny. He was here just a moment ago.” Shaking his head, he continued. “Oh no matter. The point is, we have somewhere to eat tonight! See, Vanessa sweetie? I can organise something!”

“Didn’t you just say Perry did this?” She asked as she slipped her shoes back on and walked over. Despite her retort, her tone had warmed significantly and she started looking around with growing excitement. “So, where is it?”

“Paul bunyans.”

Her face fell into a similar look of ‘really?’ he’d given his nemesis a moment ago.

“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers.” He warned, without a hint of self awareness. “And besides,” he cooed. “You used to love that place as a little girl!

She gave a resigned sigh and a fond eyeroll. “I guess I did love it…” With a frown, she looked down at her black dress. “Even if I’ll look stupid wearing this into a kiddie resturaunt.”

“Well, at least you’re in good company.” He gestured to his own suit and she gave an amused smile. “Hey, you two!” He shouted to the others. Norm spun his torso around to face him.

“WHAT?” Buford shouted, annoyed, before quietly adding “No Ma, not you.” into the phone receiver and muffling it against his shoulder.

“I got us a reservation at Paul Bunyan’s!” Doof shouted excitedly.

Norm tilted his head, while the kid seemed pretty satisfied with no explanation. “Really?” He asked excitedly,. Doof nodded with an ‘mmhmm’.

“Yup. C’mon, it’s-“ he checked his watch before gesturing for them to hurry. “-It’s almost time!”

Buford quickly told his mother he didnt need picking up now and put the receiver back in Norm’s ear while he and the robot joined the two Doofenshmirtz’s at the street corner.

“Man, I’m starvin’!” The kid complained (?) excitedly as Norm lowered him to the ground on his hand.

“Same.” Vanessa agreed, following her dad to the restaurant.

“I DON’T NEED TO EAT.” Norm added helpfully.

“You sure don’t, buddy.” Vanessa said.

“Excuse me,” Doof started confidently, approaching the plaid-clad woman at the front of the bustling restaurant. “Do you have a reservation for…” completely blanking, he quickly glanced at the paper still in his hand while vanessa facepalmed. “Lawrence fletcher?” He continued, slipping seamlessly back into his confident tone.

Miraculously, the woman didnt question his suspicious behaviour and instead shot him a required, friendly smile. “Of course. 8:30, table for 5?”

Pleasantly surprised that Perry wasnt pranking him, Doof shot her an excited finger gun. “That’s the one!”

“Right this way, sir.” She smiled and opened the fake barn doors, letting in Vanessa, Buford and Norm (who had to severely duck to fit).

“Oh, uh, we can bring in outside food, right?” Doof asked nervously, noticing Norm carrying his jerry can.

“Unfortunately, no.”

Well, looks like they’d have to eat without norm. What a tragedy.

“But uh… I suppose gasoline isn’t really food.” She said awkwardly, breaking her customer service voice out of confusion, as she followed his line of sight. “Soo, you’re good.”

“Oh.” Dammit.

As Doof was following his family into the loud restaurant, the employees voice cut him off one more time.

“Is this little guy your 5th party member?” She giggled.

“Huh?” Glancing behind him, Doof saw no one but a regular platypus on the ground.

“Oh, no I don’t really…know this platypus…” he said, feeling confused. Why was there another platypus in the middle of danville? And why did it look so familiar…

The woman didnt seem to hear him as she was crouching down to scratch the animal under the chin.

“Aww, who’s a good boy? You are! You are!” The wall-eyed animal churred at the affection, leaning into her hand. Doofs eyes softened.

“Aw, well- I suppose he is a cute little guy.” He conceded, crouching down to the animals level. “A-alright, I…I guess he is with us.” Just for dinner, before they checked if he had an owner. After all, how could he say no to that face???

As he went to pick the platypus up, it growled at him. “Alright.” He said tensely, putting his hands on his hips. “Sassy.” The woman giggled.

“He’s probably just hungry. A lot of our customers have been saying that today.”

Doof chuckled nervously, and he could have sworn the platypus glared. “Yeah…funny, that… Um, alright, I guess I’ll just…” he turned to walk inside and glanced back at the platypus unsurely. To his surprise, however, the animal followed him obediently. “Huh. Well trained.”

-

“Alright, thank you! Come along, Steven.” Doof called happily after the platypus he’d grown attached to.

“I still think he looks like an Alan.” Buford retorted, following him with the animal in his arms (they’d learnt quickly that it was only doof he refused to let hold him, much to the scientists annoyance). Vanessa walked out after them with an amused eyeroll, shooting the platypus a knowing look. It churred nervously in Buford’s grip, earning it a pat on the head.

“THANK YOU FOR THE WONDERFUL SERVICE. I COULDN’T EAT ANOTHER BITE!” Norms generic voice came from inside the restaurant.

“Remember to duck on your way out!” Vanessa called behind her.

“RIGHT.” The robot just that, before standing to his full height outside and shooting finger guns at her. “THANKS, SIS.”

“Uh, no problem, bro.” she responded awkwardly. She wasn’t really sure what to make of her dad’s invention seeing her as a sister, but she wasn’t about to risk saying something that could hurt his feelings in case he had them. “Hey, can you call his mom?” She asked, pointing to Buford. “Our, uh, ‘sibling’ has gotta get home somehow and Dad’s probably gonna forget.”

“NO PROBLEM!” Norm said, before his eyes went black and his voice somehow became even more robotic. “CALLING VAN STOMM HOUSEHOLD….”

Meanwhile, Doof was picking food put of his teeth with a toothpick Buford gave him. “So,” he said, toothpick still in his mouth. “How was that?”

“It was good!” Buford said, a little distracted by the platypus wriggling in his arms. He put him down with another pat on the head before adding. “I like it there.” with a smile.

“I can tell!” Doof said. “Well, I’m glad someone ended up somewhere they liked tonight.”

“Yeah. That was much better than some stuffy adult place. Shame they had no steak, though.” He patted his tummy, looking disappointed. Doof placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, that’s life, unfortunately.”

“Yeah…hey, where’d alan go?” Alarmed, the two looked around their feet, before doof pointed down the road.

“There he goes!”

His shout got Vanessa’s attention, who walked over and followed where he was pointing to the platypus trotting casually down the street. An amused smile took over her face and she placed a hand on his arm, bringing it down. “Looks like he knows where he’s going.” She said casually.

“But…” Doof’s eyes got shiny, and she patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s alright, Dad.” She said, half-interested. “I’m sure you’ll see him again.”

“They say if ya love somethin’, let it go.” Buford added wisely. It quickly devolved into an irritable shout as Vanessa ruffled his hair.

“Nerd.” She scoffed, fondly.

“HEY!”

While the two were bickering, and norm was on the phone, Doof smiled fondly at them and then to the scrap of paper in his pocket.

“Thank you, Perry The Platypus.”

[boop-le-snoot]

mwahaha, hi bun!!!

Can I get some dad! Bucky barens and maybe dad! Stephen strange headcanons please?

(Please drink some water! )

Hello there, baby gay! 💖✨ I am fed and watered today 💖 And it's my job to tell you that! Put down the Monster & drink some actual water & eat some actual food, please!

dad!Bucky x reader (+ uncle!Stephen bonus)

Being a teenager is hard on its own but being a teenager in the care of Bucky Barnes is nearly impossible. Sure, you get to have a zillion cool uncles and aunts, uncle Tony and his pet intern always supply you with the coolest gadgets and aunt Nat is ready to cover your ass should you manage to do some minor mischief...

There's always someone to talk to and no time to be sad or upset for longer than it takes for your family to find the cause of your foul mood and kick their ass. And Steve always has pantries stacked full of your favourite snacks.

It's quite a bit much. There isn't always a set cause for your low mood. Doctor Strange says its 'hormonal fluctuations' and even though you scoff at it, at times you just want to be left alone with your feelings. You try telling that to Bucky, who begins hovering nearby once he sees you curled up in the farthest corner of the couch with your earphones on.

"I just want to listen to some music and read, okay? Nothing is wrong, school is fine, nobody hurt me," You mumble, feeling the frustration begin to really bubble up to surface. "Can't even get twenty minutes to myself in this damn house," You mutter absentmindedly, forgetting your caretaker's enhanced hearing.

"Don't be rude, doll," Bucky huffs, seemingly equally frustrated with your inability to cooperate. He's convinced himself you're not telling him what's wrong and is upset. "There is no need to get moody and run your mouth. Talk to me, please?"

Suddenly, you feel him standing behind your back, doing a piss poor job at sneaking glances into your phone where you've been texting your friends for the past half an hour, talking about everything and nothing in particular. The irritation at the lack of private space intensifies, causing you to abruptly lock your phone and turn around to glare at Bucky.

"Can you, like, not spy on me? Give me some room to breathe, dammit!" You exclaim, stuffing the phone in the back pocket of your jeans. Seeing his face darken, you take a steadying breath. Both of you had tempers and it wasn't a secret that you fed off each other's upsets. "I'm going for a walk. DO NOT follow me. I want to be alone."

Bucky crosses his arms, ready to ground you if need be, but thanks to Natasha's lessons you're able to get up and get out of the apartment in seconds. Earphones still in, you take the elevator down and begin to briskly walk in the direction opposite of the tower, all aware Bucky could catch up with you in any moment should he wish to.

You love your adoptive dad, you really do. But the discrepancies and the generational divide seems to be far too large at times; you're definitely not the dainty, obedient lady he seems to want you to be. You can and do kick ass and you're not the one to blindly follow orders. Mulling over your options (talk to Nat, make her give Bucky a scolding; hide in Tony's lab and spend time with Peter), your legs carry you in a familiar direction.

Blinking at the sudden change of scenery, you come to find yourself at the doors of the Sanctum, hand raised to knock on the heavy wooden doors. They fling open before you land your knuckles on them, Stephen Strange looking at you with concern, holding some ancient tome in his other hand.

"Everything okay?" He asks, discreetly checking the perimeter behind you. Judging by his crumpled clothing and messy hair, he's been on another one of his library binges, probably all night and all day.

"Yeah," You mumble, suddenly feeling stupid. "Buck's been hovering again, can't get a moment to myself. My house is a nightmare. Went for a walk and found myself here." You admit shyly. "Maybe I could bum on your couch for an hour or so?"

Stephen smiles warmly, letting you walk past him into the Sanctum. "Sure, I'll go get us some tea," He says, vanishing the book in his hands. Under his sarcastic exterior, Steph is a very caring person which makes him one of your favourite uncles.

"Grab yourself some food too, you look like you need it," You can't resist snarking at him, feeling his responding eyeroll with your back. He takes some time in the kitchen as you find yourself a comfy spot in front of the fireplace and greet the curious Cloak of Levitation.

"I texted Barnes, you're welcome to stay the night," Stephen brings in a tray filled with snacks and drinks. "He says to call him whenever you're ready." You know now that uncle Stephen has given your dad an earful about respecting a teenager's privacy. Strange could be really persuasive... Real scary, too.

And you're not mad at Bucky, not really. You love him. You're both still learning to co-habit together every day. Sometimes both of you need help. As you settle in next to Stephen to read, you text Bucky the agreed upon "🐺❤️" combo to make him know you're okay.

In seconds, the reply makes your phone buzz. "🦊❤️". Buck's been educated about privacy and definitely not mad.

[totouchthcstars]

@hxlcycnx​

221  b.  baker  street  was  his  home,  with  his  eccentric  landlady,  his  skull  that  rested  happily  upon  the  mantle  piece,  and  his  doctor.  however  in  this  flat,  there  was  a  cold  tea  kettle  on  the  stove,  a  baren  mantle,  and  a  vacant  chair  across  from  him.  truthfully,  there  was  only  one  thing  sherlock  holmes  could  always  rely  on  one  thing  to  remain  constant…clients.

“whatever  you  are  here  for,  do  make  it  quick.  i  have  to  go  look  for  a  skull  and  i’m  quite  particular  about  who  i  keep  as  a  companion  so  the  search  may  take  a  while.  be  seated  on  the  couch  and  do  speak  intentionally,  spare  me  the  emotional  details.”  he  demanded,  his  feat  up,  resting  on  a  footstool,  his  hands  in  a  steeple  position  under  his  chin  as  he  sat  in  the  chair  to  the  right  of  the  client,  looking  to  them  expectantly.

.｡.:*☆ “You are Sherlock Holmes, aren’t you?” Jessie could not help it, so far, she could not really imagine to like the man. Back in London, they had never really met, after all. And, even if, she did no expect him to remember a street rat like her.

“My name is Jessie. Jessie Cook. And while I know we most likely have no business with each other, I need to talk to you about something.” He wanted her to be forward, so Jessie was. “In London, there had been rumours going around that you could be my father. Do you know anything about this?”

[theresa-nam-nam-me]

| jimin | love is blind

Jimin x reader

Master list

Summary→ in a world where soulmates share eye color, some had one blue and one green, some brown and blue but jimin had one dark brown and one completely white.

Ever Since jimin was born he came out with one white eye. Though the doctor said everything with his vision was fine his parents worried more for his future, there had never been reports of soulmates with white eyes before. Did he not have a soulmate? Had they passed away?

When jimin was younger kids had teased him for his eye saying he'd be lonely forever. Now that he's older people just tend to stare and give dirty looks. Jimin had got used to the idea that he'd grow old all alone, but he couldn't help but get a little jealous when he saw his best friend jungkook be so loving with his soulmate. They looked so at peace with each other, hands intertwined, soft giggles leaving their lips.

"Jimin Hyung" the younger one called out breaking him from his daze, "me and Riko are going to get ice cream, want to join us?" Jungkook asked "no thank jungkook, I have practice" jungkook whined "ah ok maybe next time" he waved to jimin with a smile "sure" jimin waved as he headed to the dance room.

Jimin was a dance major and put all his time into practice hoping one day his dream of being a successful dancer would come true. He spent close to three hours perfecting his dance for his test next week, students had to come up with their own choreography using the given prompt, love.

Even though the choreography was free and smooth he felt so disconnected from it. He didn't know what love felt like. His dance was more filled with emptiness and loss. He splashed his face with cold water cooling himself down, his breath was heavy as he examined his face in the mirror glancing at his white eye before packing his things.

He walked through the baren hallways with his head down full of thoughts that clouded his head. He took a tumble backward after someone bumped into them dropping all their books, "sorry" she apologized as her hands Skyward the floor trying to find her books. "It's ok, it me help you" he said bending down picking up the books "oh thank you" you smiled. Your eyes, they matched perfectly matched his, white in the left and a dark brown in the right but how? He thought he would be alone forever. His trans broke once you stud up.

"Your eye," he said jumping his feet. You turned around with an awkward smile "yeah, it's like that I'm blind" his breath hitched. So he did have a soulmate and he was looking at her right in the face. "I-i think I'm your soulmate" he blurted out, the air around you suddenly felt thin and you could hear a pin drop. "Park jimin, dance major" he introduced himself "y/n l/n history major, are you sure?" He nodded but mentally hit himself "yes, I have one white eye in my right and dark brown in my left, I thought I didn't have a soulmate..."

"I uh.." You were speechless "would you like to hang out, I'm free right now," he asked. Was this how he was supposed to do it? He never thought about a scenario like this before, why would he, his whole life had been a lie, he did have a soulmate. "Sure, I was just heading to the library if you wanted to join me" you smiled "the library? Aren't you blind?" You nodded "these are in braille" he mouthed an "oh" before speaking up "sure," he said following your lead. "Here," he said opening the door for you "thank you"

You felt your way around the library making your way to the desk "hi miss.l/n how can I help you" the librarian asked in a sweet tone "just returning these" you said handing off your books. "Would you like to take a seat?" He nodded pulling out a seat for the both of you. A few sounds of silence passed before you spoke up "I don't mean to weird you out but can I feel your face?" You asked "sure" he leaned in and guided your hands to his face before letting them go to roam his face. Your hands gently outlined his features while his eyes admired yours. "Very plump lips and a small nose, I bet your pretty" he giggled as his cheeks turned a dark red "thank you, you are pretty"

"So you're a dance major?" You questioned "yes, I have a test coming up next week" you hummed a response "what about?" You asked curiously "i have to come up with a choreography using the prompt love" you tilted your head "really, i bet it's gonna be great" you smiled "i hope so"

---

Over the next week, he spent all his time either hanging out with you or practice and the more time he spent with you the more his dance changed, the more he felt connected with the word "love". Friday's had come up fast and it was now time to show off his dance. The music started and the dance began at a fast yet graceful pace at first showing sadness and distraught but his movements became slow as his hands raised from his chest, his neck, and then his eyes where a blindfold had laid. He carefully untied the blindfold before tearing it off in a fast motion following the music. His movements once again turned fast but this time gentle showing fulfillment and joy. The music slowly began to fade as he dropped to the floor with a raised hand before placing it on his chest as the music stopped.

Claps soon filled the silence "that was great Mr.park now what is your dance called" one of the professors asked "love is blind" he smiled "alright Mr. park thank you" he smiled giving a bow before walking off stage and out into the hallway. "Jimin?" You called out "y/n, what are you doing here?" He asked with the biggest smile "i knew you had a test today so i thought i surprise you" you said, "how did you do?" You asked "the professor said i did great but i wouldn't have been able to it as well without you" he said brushing your hair behind your ears.

"What do you mean?" You asked confused "i didn't know what love felt like before i meeting you, but over the last week of knowing you, i found it and unleashed it into my dance. i don't think i would be able to represent the word love without you" you were in shock at jimins words. He took the opportunity to press a soft kiss on your lips before backing away "y/n, will you be my girlfriend?" He asked not being able to contain a smile, you brought your hand to your lips "really?" You blushed being completely flustered "really." He said placing a hand on your shoulder "id love that" you said full of joy "great, my love would you like to get some ice cream?" You nodded "great, let's go" he said placing another kiss on your forehead making you giggle. "My love" he whispered.

[doctenwho]

Not a Cat Person

Summary: On a night stroll through the streets of London, Reader comes across a small, abandoned cat who wants nothing more than a home. The problem is, The Doctor is not a cat person. Besides, The Doctor’s no stranger to his companions talking him into things.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 3,783

*Gif is not mine, credit to creator*

As much as you liked exploring the galaxy with The Doctor, and seeing things beyond your wildest imagination, you couldn’t deny that it wasn’t nice to return to earth, your earth, every once and a while.  

You loved the TARDIS, and you loved seeing everything the galaxy had to offer, and meeting new and exotic people. There was so much you loved about your travels, and, well, things you could do without as well. You could do without the near constant threats, and attempts on the Doctor’s life, but, well, it was a bit of excitement ever so often.

Besides, what’s a little bad hidden in with all that amazing, right?

All that said though, there was just something calming about being on your home planet every so often. Where you weren’t constantly afraid something was plotting to kill you, or kidnap you, or arrest you, or try to poison you—and the list could go on.  

You didn’t have to rely on the Doctor, in fact, he relied on you a bit whenever you were on earth. He liked to trust the locals, and on earth, that’s exactly who you were. As strange as that was to think about.  

It was just nice to have a bit of a relax whenever you were on earth. Take the Doctor shopping, or home to see your folks and family. He didn’t like getting too attached to anyone, but he was always nice, and funny whenever around people you like and know.  

You just liked showing him a bit of normal, everyday, human life.  

And he enjoyed it for the most part. He was actually fascinated by it. He trusted you completely, and followed blindly behind so long as nothing seemed out of the ordinary.  

It was a two-way street, trusting the Doctor. He always gave back everything he received and so much more. He was one of the most genuine people (aliens?) you’d ever met.  

Today was no different than any other landing on earth, well, besides the almost crash landing.  

The Doctor had promised the TARDIS was perfectly alright and that she just needed a bit of a cool down before the two of you continued on to the next biggest and greatest thing the Doctor had found for the two of you to enjoy together.  

He’d opted to stay in and do a bit of fixing up, while you’d gone out to stroll around for a bit. It wasn’t ideal, because you still, even if you didn’t really need him, wanted him around just because he’s become a constant in your life. It was far better walking around earth with the Doctor, rather than by yourself.  

The Doctor had parked the TARDIS in an old alleyway behind your flat. No one usually came around, so the TARDIS would be safely hidden away while it charged up from all the travelling the two of you had been doing. You’d barely ever gone down this alley way the whole time you’d lived in the building beside it, and you knew it was common knowledge people tended to avoid it for one reason or another.  

You’d left the time and space machine in the capable hands of the Doctor, though you’d wished he would’ve joined you for a bit of human life exploration while the two of you were here. He’d been coming to earth for a lot longer than you’d existed, but there was always something new the Doctor would find amazing even on a simple walk around in the dead of night.  

The blue police box doors had shut behind you, your light source being shut away with them. You hadn’t planned to wonder off far alone. You hadn’t really planned on even leaving the alley way, just sitting outside and getting a bit of London air.  

It was nice breathing in your own planet’s air. It probably wasn’t much different to any other planet’s air supply, but it always felt more refreshing knowing it’s yours.  

You moved slowly along the openness of the alley, frowning thoughtfully at your dark surroundings. The closer you got to the main road, the easier it was to see with the dull lighting of the streetlamps that the government had opted out of putting in alleyways like the one behind your flat.  

There was a corner curb on the junction between the alley leading off and the main road, so you sat for a moment. The roads were baren at the early hour in the morning. It would be another hour or two before even the earliest shifts started.

It was peaceful; you could see some stars in the clouded skies, but it did not do justice to actually seeing the stars up close. The Doctor really had ruined earth star gazing for you—nothing could top actually being up there.

You drew your attention away from the sky only when something moved. You paused abruptly, pulling your legs in as something across the street moved. A can rattled along the pavement.

Your first instinct was to get up and move away, preferably to the TARDIS and the safety of the Doctor. You’d gotten quite used to that mindset throughout your adventures, the mindset that constantly reminded you that not everything was safe on your travels with the Doctor. You couldn’t trust things, you never knew what it could be, or what it could do—but then you remembered where you were.

Earth.

You knew earth. Quite well, in fact. You’d lived here your whole life; knew the ins and outs.  

The worst whatever was hiding behind the bin could be was a rodent, or some kind of urban wildlife. You almost laughed at yourself, being frightened of a rat, or something like that hiding out behind a bin.  

You let your legs fall back to a natural position on the curbside, deciding that whatever was back there, you could handle. It wasn’t really a threat—nothing like another planet could throw at you anyway. There wasn’t much harm the wildlife around here could do, beside tearing into rubbish bags, and scurrying at you to try and scare you away.  

The can rattled once more, and then it was rolling towards you. And following it, was a cat.  

The cat froze suddenly, noticing you sitting there, it’s can sitting at your feet.  

The cat was small, and mangey looking. It had bright green eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness of the night. It’s fur, midnight black, with patches of white, camouflaged with the shadows it was hidden in.

It didn’t hiss, or cry, or meow at your presence. It didn’t move to back away, or even really look bothered in the slightest.  

“Hi, kitty,” you whispered after a second, seeming to break the small, skinny feline from its trance. The cat made a little ‘purr’ noise before sauntering towards you and rubbing up against your shoes.  

Up close, in the light from the street lamp across the street, you noticed the mats in the cat’s fur. It had medium length fur, not really a long hair, but also not a regular short haired either. Its ears were perked up as it made little noises in your direction.  

It seemed happy to see a person, an abandoned family pet perhaps. It wasn’t the first time you’d come across a cat left in an alleyway when it wasn’t wanted anymore, but it still broke your heart. 

It was friendly enough when you reached over to let it sniff your hand, before it nudged your palm and nuzzled into your fingers.  

“You’re lovely,” you whispered to the cat. The cat tilted it’s head, almost as if trying to understand you before knocking it’s head into your palm again, seeking more affection.

It appeared to have been alone for quite some time, nothing but matted fur and skin and bones.  

“Are you hungry, little guy?” the cat meowed, quiet and scratchy, pawing at the lace on your shoe before standing up and rubbing against your shoes again. “Alright, alright,” you laughed, standing up and bending down to run a hand along the cat’s back, “I’m sure the Doctor will have something you’d like.”

You started walking back in the direction you’d come, unsure if your new friend would follow. To your surprise, it did. The cat swapped between sprinting to catch up to you, and sauntering beside you on your walk back to the TARDIS.

It made cute little noises as he moved, purrs and huffs, almost like it was irritated you were faster than it.  

You couldn’t help but love the little guy’s personality. You’d seen cats before—watched cat videos, hung out with friends who had cats, even occasionally stopped in the days before meeting the Doctor to call out to stray, or outdoor cats you passed by, but you’d never really seen one as friendly as the one on your heels.  

When the TARDIS finally came into view, you moved quickly to the doors and pulled them open.  

The cat hesitated outside the doors for a moment as you stepped through, then shot in behind you before you could close it out. You hadn’t meant to bring it in.  

You didn’t know how the Doctor would react to that.  

You had really meant to close the cat out, grab a can of something the cat would eat (if the Doctor even had anything of the sort) and feed it outside had it stuck around.  

You shifted your eyes around the console room, then snapped your attention back to the suddenly cautiously moving cat. It was empty besides the two of you.

The Doctor was not in the console room. You knew he was in the TARDIS somewhere, or else the doors would’ve been locked. Plus, he’d never just leave with you outside. He always made an effort to find you and inform you if he were doing something outside the TARDIS.

The cat walked along the metal grating on the floor, sniffing and exploring slowly, a bit more anxious than it had been outside, which was expected. You’d been anxious when the Doctor had brought you into his bigger on the inside box as well.  

“Come along,” you called the cat softly, walking down a hallway to where you knew the kitchen would be. The cat trailed along, maybe understanding, or maybe just afraid to be alone in this new place.  

You find exactly what you were looking for in the kitchen, a can of tuna fish. It was buried deep in the back a cupboard, certainly obtained before you started travelling with the Doctor. Maybe one of his previous companions enjoyed a tuna fish sandwich or something.  

You opened the can, and instantly the cat was walking circle around you, rubbing against your legs and meowing desperately at you. You shushed it, dumping the cans contents onto a plate and managing to move to the table the Doctor and yourself ate at without accidentally stepping on the feline.  

As soon as the plate was low enough for the cat to get at, it was eating. It was starving, desperate for food.  

You sat back in the chair as the poor little guy annihilated the plateful of fish. You were a bit worried the cat was going to choke with how fast it was eating.  

“(Y/N)?” the Doctor’s voice called, voice carrying through the hallways, “do you have fish? The whole place smells of fish,” he continued to speak, voice getting closer. Only a moment later the man was stood in the doorway, staring at you with his nose wrinkled, “you know, I didn’t know you fancied tuna fish--” he paused, studying you and your lack of fish before he sniffed, and his attention dropped to the cat licking the plate clean, “what is that thing doing in my TARDIS?”

“It followed me in,” you explained, waiting to see what would happen. “It’s very nice.”

“Is it?” the Doctor furrowed his eyebrows cautiously as he sidestepped into the kitchen, avoiding the cat and moving to stand beside you. “It looks mad.”

“It’s not,” you promised, “that’s just how cats are.”

“Not the cats I know,” the Doctor snorted, “still, what’s it doing in my TARDIS? Why did my TARDIS even let a cat in? Earth creatures are still creatures, they’re not supposed to be here. Not without my consent anyways.”

“Maybe she likes it?” you offered, standing and swooping down to pick up the finished plate as the cat licked its lips, then its paw to wipe at its face. “She liked me too.”

“That’s different,” the Doctor waved you off, “why have you brought a cat back here?” The Doctor repeated as if he honestly couldn’t understand your thought process, “you leave on your own for a half-hour and you return with an earth creature.”

“It was hungry, Doctor. It’s a stray, all skin and bones.”

“It looks feral,” the doctor frowned, “how do you know it’s not diseased or,” the man whipped out his sonic screwdriver and scanned the cat, scowling when nothing unusual came up, “I don’t know, what do earth cats even do?”

“What do non-earth cats do?” you retorted with a frown.  

“Experiment on humans and run hospitals,” the Doctor scowled, “what-bout that thing?”

“Seriously?” you wrinkled your nose in disgust, trying to decide whether he was being serious or trying to prove some sort of point. He gave a short nod, crossing his arms across his chest and scowling at cat on the floor. It had curled into a little ball, snoozing soundly now that it had been fed. “Earth cats mostly just eat and sleep,” you explained, “they’re companions to us, like dogs and other pets. I guess in a sense, I’d be like your cat.”

“You’re not a cat,” the Doctor frowned, almost looking offended on your behalf.

“You know what I meant,” you rolled your eyes. “Cats aren’t that bad,” you shook your head moving over to kneel beside the small sleeping animal, “it’s really friendly, see?” You ran your hand along the cat’s back and instantly the room was filled with soft purrs.

“That’s just unnatural,” the man commented, face twisting as if he’d eaten a slice of lemon. “I don’t like them.”

“It’s just purring,” you scoffed, “it means that it’s happy here.”

“Oh, great,” the Doctor gave a fake cheer, tone laced with sarcasm. “Well, it ate, it’s... it’s napped. It’s time for it to return to its home.”

“It doesn’t have one. It’s a stray, Doctor.”  

You paused, fingers continuing to scratch through the cat’s fur, snagging on mats. You turned to the Doctor with a widening smile, waiting for him to turn his displeased look from the cat to you. When he did catch your eye, the man’s face scrunched up, “no,” he said, “absolutely not.”

“Awh,” you pleaded, “come on, Doctor. It’s got nowhere to go. It lives behind a bin. Look how happy it is here...”

“No,” he repeated, “no cats. I really don’t like cats, (Y/N).”

“Space cats maybe,” you pouted at him, “it’s just a harmless little earth cat. You like helping people, don’t you? So, help.”

“People,” the doctor repeated, he was already starting to break, you could tell. The Doctor had a soft spot for each and every human companion he had, and you had a soft spot for animals, “I like helping people.”

“You like helping creatures,” you mended, knowing the Doctor couldn’t argue there. Not everything he helped was considered a person, “you’ll help anyone who needs you. And this, it’s a helpless little creature who’s been living off bin scraps.”

“And not well,” the Doctor snarked, distastefully eyeing the skinny feline now half in your lap.

“Exactly,” the Doctor eyed you thoughtfully as you spoke. You couldn’t help but grin as the man turned his attention back to the cat, his eyes softening just a little bit, “it’ll starve if we leave it...”

The Doctor’s stern façade broke slightly, and he sighed, reaching a hand up to run through his hair. He glanced over at you before sharply looking away as if seeing your face would be his final breaking point.

He didn’t say anything for a second, but you knew you won. You continued on, just to seal the deal, “’sides, the TARDIS likes it, Doctor. You’re not going to deny your TARDIS of a friend, are you? The cat will be here to keep her company while we’re out. She’ll never be lonely.”

“Now you’re just playing dirty,” the man gave another heavy sigh. “Fine... you can keep the bloody cat.”

You grinned, opening your mouth to thank the man, “but,” he accentuated loudly, cutting you off before you’d even started, “you’ve got to give it a bath. It’s filthy, and I don’t want it trekking mud all over the TARDIS. And, it’s not to go anywhere near the console room, last thing we need is to lose an earth cat on a non-earth planet-”

You opened your mouth once more to try and get a word in, but the Doctor continued on so you snapped your mouth closed and listened, “and don’t expect me to like it. Because I don’t. It’s here because you like it, and I suppose because the TARDIS likes it too, or it wouldn’t even be in here in the first place. I’m not a cat person, alright?”

“Done, and deal,” you agreed quickly, leaving the cat on the floor and standing to wrap the Doctor in a tight hug. He returned it easily, just as he always did when you showed him any affection. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Uh huh,” he sighed, the fight leaving him. He leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek to show he wasn’t that upset or put out by the idea of the cat staying in the TARDIS.

----

You spent most of that morning bathing and grooming the cat. He, you discovered, didn’t put up much of a fight, besides the regular ‘cat no like water’ fight. He seemed to enjoy being brushed, even as you picked patches of matted fur from his body.  

By the time you were finished, he was all brushed and cleaned. His fur was a silky soft texture and was a bit longer than you’d assumed when meeting the feline. He was honestly a beautiful tuxedo cat when he was all groomed, and he had the personality to match. He was a bit quirky, and full of attitude—which reminded you of a certain Doctor just down the hall in the console room, who was probably pouting that he’d been unable to resist giving in to one of his companions again.  

The cat was still super skinny, and would need to be fattened up to a healthy weight, preferably with actual cat food—but the remainder of the tuna would work until you could talk the Doctor into an earth grocery shop.

The Doctor, all groans and protests, managed to find an old plastic box in a storage room that he dumped the contents (old relics) out of and filled with samples of sand he’d collect from the Sahara Desert decades ago to analyze, to make a sort of make-shift litter box.

It wasn’t great, but it would do for a couple days until you could talk him into that shop visit.  

All in all, the cat seemed perfectly content in the TARDIS, and you’d even seen him rub against the Doctor’s shins much to the man’s disapproval.  

----

It was three days later that you were looking for the cat to feed, when you walked into the console room only to find the Doctor laying on the seat in the console room, the cat snuggled into his abdomen and the Doctor’s nimble fingers stroking his soft fur.  

You were a bit surprised, considering how against keeping the cat the Doctor had been. But it was adorable to see the man cuddling the feline as he was.

“Ohh,” the Doctor lazily looked in your direction, hearing your approach, “good morning, (Y/N).”

The Doctor paused, blinking up at you in though before hooking his fingers in a collar that was around the cat’s neck that hadn’t been there before. You studied the strap of blue around the cat’s neck, it didn’t appear to bother him. “I’ve made him a collar and a pet tag—that is what humans do with household companions, right?”

For a moment, the Doctor looked unsure. Something you didn’t see often. “Yeah, I mean, yes, we do. Collar and tag, good call.”

“Good,” the Doctor nodded, more to himself than you. He continued stroking the cat, hand brushing over the cat’s head to his back, “if he’ll be joining us, and he happens to get lost, my sonic screwdriver be able to track that tag. I don’t lose companions... cats included.”

You stepped towards the man with the cat curled into him, and lightly picked up the tag hanging from the new collar, you pulled it just enough so you could see an engraving on the front of the tag, without disturbing the content cat. Return to the Blue Public Use Police Box if found. was engraved in the address spot on the back of the tag. The name spot on the front remained blank, waiting for the cat’s undecided name.

“Return to the TARDIS?” you asked, smiling widely. If you didn’t know the Doctor you would’ve thought he was blushing at the mention.

“Well, I, uh...” the Doctor looked down at the cat staring up at him, “too much? I can change it to your apartment, I just thought, well...”

“That address won’t help if he gets out on another planet,” you agreed, thumbing over the engravement. “I like it.”

“Really?” the Doctor grinned brightly, “right then.”

You watched the man readjust himself so he was sitting up right, the cat barely stirred at all as he was transferred to the man’s lap. You smiled thankfully at the Doctor as you moved to sit beside him.  

You leaned back, grinning to yourself. You didn’t say anything for a moment, just watching the other’s hand card through the cat’s fur.

“Don’t expect me to like it,” you murmured in a poor imitation of the Doctor from just a few days before. “Because I don’t,” you continued to tease.  

“Yeah, yeah,” the Doctor snorted, lightly shoving his shoulder against your own without disturbing the cat. The corner of the Doctor’s mouth curled up into a smile before he attempted to even it as he huffed a light, “Shuttup.”

You laughed to yourself, leaning against the Doctor and reaching over to pet the cat, “anyways, have any name ideas for him, Mr not-a-cat-person?”

<><>

Ten is that guy who says no way to a pet cat and then the next week after getting said cat anyways, the cat is his best friend and you can’t change my mind. Also, prompts very welcome and very appreciated! :D

[thedoctornumber11]

The Doctor double checked his own suit and walked out the TARDIS doors, into the baren landscape in front of them. He looked around. There wasn't much to see, but they weren't just there for sight seeing anyway. They had a goal to find a missing space ship and this planet seemed like the most likely place it landed.

Open roleplay that anyone can respond to!

((OOC: This is an open starter that anyone can respond to regardless of fandom and regardless of if we've RPed before or not.)

"I have several of these space suits. Are you ready for a space walk?"

[the-wiresmarvelau]

T.H.E. W.I.R.E.S.

Peter and his Friends are allowed to design the compound and couldn’t help but riddle it with secret tunels and hallways. While Peter installs said hallways he makes some new acquaintences who he has to help and gets help from.

Chapter 1 chapter 3

Chapter 4: arrangements 1

It was a quiet day at the palace.

There was no feast in preparation, no troops being gathered for a war and the days of children running around, playing catch or practicing with swords were long gone.

Outside the sun warmed their stone benches and the garden bloomed even more colourful than the bifröst.

On days like these Frigga couldn’t help but miss her children even more than usual.

Back when her boys had been younger, she used to spend hours with them in the gardens. Keeping an eye on Thor playing swords with the warriors three while Loki read to her or practiced shapeshifting, or sewing, or playing the harp.

The ravenette’s interests were everchanging and she had always encouraged him exploring all he possibly could.

A sigh escaped her lips as she leaned to the side, resting her head on the window frame. Halting her hands in their persistent movements of her embroidery.

‘Ironic how the most beautiful days are the saddest nowadays’ She thought.

After a few moments of revisiting memories of days like this spent outside, she felt the space behind her shift in a familiar way.

Immediately, she knew what it was.

Everyone uses the flows of magic differently, leaving signatures in the atmosphere which can be interpreted by experienced magicians or sorcerers.

“I should have figured you’d find a way” She said, a smile playing on her lips. “You never liked to stay put for long.”

Only after she had finished her sentence did she turn around.

The moment she lay eyes on her precious little boy however, she was stopped dead in her tracks.

There he was. Kneeling in the middle of the room, looking up at her like he used to do all those centuries ago.

But his chest was baren and littered with bruises and abrasions.

Every single rib was visible and his hands were shaking. The worst though was his face.

Bloody hair fell into his eyes and a silver wire was holding his mouth closed.

For the most part at least… A few of the stitches had ripped through his lips completely; leaving it sliced open in multiple places.

Of course, she was aware of her son’s reputation to lie and trick around.

He had never lied to her though.

He had kept many secrets, but had never lied to her; never tricked her.

A single tear slipped down her cheek. The cooling sensation, grounding her back into reality.

She slid down from her place at the windowsill, fighting for something.. anything to say

“I didn’t know.” was all she managed in the end.

The eyes of the illusion became soft and he inclined his head in a way that she knew meant that he was aware of that. It had always been common for him to be unwilling to speak while concentrating on something.

“How can I make this ri-ght?” she asked, looking at him for guidance.

Loki barely ever did something without thinking of the next step.

Not only that but he was also at least as much renowned for his ability to find ways out of seemingly impossible situations as he was for playing tricks.

“I found help on Midgard.” His voice announced. Right after, his illusion changed to that of a young, curly haired boy.

In the voice of this boy, he continued. “He calls himself ‘Spiderman’ and seems to be some kind of hero on his world, he agreed to find a place for me to stay. I told him to wait for you to tell him when and where to meet. You should find him in New York”

His mother nodded. “Leave the rest to me. I will get you out of there; But try to rest now, we can’t have you dying this close.”

He gave a single nod before disappearing, leaving his mother alone with her thoughts.

Frigga closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

She should have known.

Since the beginning, Odin had been harsher towards Loki than to Thor or even other children. Spending less time with him and criticising him a lot.

When she was with them, she would always step in and with time her husband seemed to accept his son a little more… but it still didn’t sit quite right with her.

If she had just listened to her instincts.

Now it was apparent that there was something going on behind her back; and she should have known.

From the way the ravenette shrunk back whenever his adoptive father raised his voice and his reluctance to speak to him.

She should have known seeing the way Loki sometimes looked at the man with hatred on his face and from the many secrets he held.

After a few moments of wallowing in self-doubt and reproaches she pulled herself together.

Her beloved son was right. Nowhere in Asgard would he be safe; she just had to make sure that on Midgard, he would be.

With that in mind, she made her way to Heimdall.

Everyone who could find out about him had to be in the know of his circumstances.

He knew.

The moment she arrived on earth; Stephen knew that she did.

If it wasn't for the gigantic shifts in the magical currents around him, then it would have been his cloak's excited flapping and tugging in the direction of the door.

Not that he still used them much nowadays, portals were a lot more practical.

A sigh escaped his lips and he finished the protection spell he was currently putting over one of the new artefacts he had acquired.

Well aware, that such a powerful spell was easily detected by anyone with the level of inherent magical power this newcomer seemed to poses.

In but a second, he felt a shift again and knew that, whoever the new magic wielder was, they stood right behind him.

“How forthcoming of you to come by yourself. I was just about to bring you here.” The sorcerer said by way of greeting, while turning around.

To be honest, he was a little taken aback by what he saw.

Before him stood a middle-aged woman in a layered, light blue dress, reaching down to the floor.

A golden shimmering aura seemed to surround her, accenting the golden band adorning her head.

Half of her hazel-coloured hair was pulled back, while the other half fell freely around her shoulders.

What surprised him however, was not her overall appearance.

It was the strange look in her eyes, betraying her relaxed posture by mirroring a mix of desperation and determination. She seemed to be in panic but clearheaded.

Still, her warm smile almost fooled him into thinking he was mistaken.

"I take it, you are a guardian of this realm."

It wasn't a question; still he answered. "That is one way to put it." He raised a brow. "What brings you here, if I may ask?"

Being polite never hurt when talking to magicians. He had learned that the hard way.

“To come straight to the point: this is about Loki.” She began, searching his body language for clues as to how careful she had to be with her phrasing.

Since he only tensed up the tiniest bit, she deemed it safe to proceed.

“I know he has been banished for a reason. He committed terrible crimes and I don’t try to deny that, even though I have reasons to believe, it wasn’t of his own accord. That is not what this is about.” She briefly stopped to take a deep breath before continuing.

“Officially he was sentenced to a lifetime, isolated in the dungeons. My husband however has begun to outright tort-ure him.” Her voice broke and because she knew she’d have trouble continue talking without crying for her boy, she conjured up a hologram of Loki how he had shown himself to her only about an hour earlier.

The sorcerer was genuinely shocked by what he saw.

He knew he was an asshole and he didn’t exactly hold that much sympathy for the young god.

But he was still a doctor.

A retired one. But still, he had taken an oath to try and not let anyone die if he could prevent it. And he could still clearly see, that this man was close to dying if not immediately tended to. That didn’t sit right with him.

“I understand you want to help him, though I’m not sure as to what that has to do with me. I’m convinced you can get him out of there without my help.”

She answered with a wry smile. “I can, but I cannot give him a safe place to stay on Asgard. However, after all that happened, my husband wouldn’t think to look on Midgard. Someone called Spiderman? has agreed to take him in.”

As sign that he knew who she talked about, he just nodded.

Personally, he had never met him; was just barely aware of his existence. But he knew that Stark seemed to trust him, which was a feat, considering the inventor’s -not completely unwarranted- paranoia.

“To allow that I would need insurance that he won’t go rogue again.” His tone was stern.

“Depending on what you’re more concerned about, we could cast a barrier only he can’t pass, or I can give you a way to monitor any magic he will be using.”

Stephen contemplated his options for a bit bevor deciding it was best to consult the time stone.

As politely as was in his nature, he asked his guest to wait for him to come to a decision.

When he was satisfied with the number of futures he had seen and how they played out he asked for the monitoring option. Though more to be safe than because he thought it to be necessary.

The goddess was relieved to hear that and proceeded to open her hair and fish out a slim strand of black hair, which was braided into her own.

She plucked three individual hairs out of it and began to perform a complex looking spell which somehow ended up with her having a short band of colourful yarn, slowly weaving itself on one end, while the other end disintegrated.

A short instruction on how to read out of it, what magic her son was using and she was sent on her way, with the information that, if spiderman wasn’t out patrolling, he was probably either at Stark tower or the new Avengers compound that was supposed to be build.

If neither, then the sorcerer didn’t have an idea where he could be.

Meanwhile at the compound, Peter was trying to wind down from the day.

He and Ned had met up again, actually managing to code the last lines missing to make their AI operational, to a level that they could introduce it to the compound.

Immediately they had sent him over to Mr Stark so he could check everything and give his go ahead to install him properly into THE WIRES. Only a few Protocols did they hold back to not make the genius suspicious of someone being hidden.

Tony’s response had taken longer than usual because he had been in a meeting when they had sent the code.

The waiting time had been like hell for the boys; For fear they had messed up or forgotten to withhold something that could point to someone living in the walls.

In the end they had finished the service robot, Ned had started the day bevor and then decided to go outside to play around with the obstacle course the superpowered teen had built rather spontaneously.

His friends had (once again) been mildly upset that they couldn’t enjoy the training parcourse they had made for the gym.

To have one they could equally participate in, Peter had the Idea to design one specifically challenging ones jumping ability and just give his friends a tool to enable them to jump just as high as he could.

Soon he had an interesting course figured out, while Shuri had made the plans for some pretty cool prosthetics one could easily put on and have a fun time with.

A physically challenging activity such as this helped to keep the two boy’s nerves at bay while they waited.

When they finally got their go ahead, they rushed inside to install Manual in THE WIRES, welcoming him in his new home.

Delightedly they found out that everything had worked out as intended and the AI was as sarcastic as can be.

They chatted with KAREN and Manuel until Ned had to go home leaving Peter in his room to, for once, do nothing.

Currently he was laying on his stomach in an orb web-like net, hanging only inches beneath the sealing, right beside his panorama window.

He really loved how his room had turned out.

Turning his head away from the beautiful view over the compound grounds and the edge of the neighbouring forest; he let his eyes wander about the interior of the room. (visual)

In spite of traditional rooms, his was hexagonal in shape.

Originally, he had wanted to make it octagonal to match his spider aesthetics -everything covered with webs and in pairs of eight- but it hadn’t worked out how he wanted it to, so he settled for hexagons when it came to shapes, resembling how chemical structures were written down.

At last, he was glad for that decision.

On the wall opposite of him was the door; well, doors. Had he mentioned? He had a room two floors high.

The upper level consisted of only a gallery spanning a little more than one and a half wall; The one with the door (obviously) and half the one on the right-hand side when you came in.

In the corner to the left was a sofa and a chair as a sort of seating area. The right wall was lined with a bookshelf, which hadn’t yet been completely filled.

About in the middle of that wall started the double stairs leading down. Double because it was technically two curved sets of narrow steps, angled in the opposite directions with a joined middle part.

Behind the stairs was his elevate bed, which was only a little lower than the gallery and was partly let into the wall.

Around the bed were more bookcases, ending higher than the mattress lay, forming a little wall as well as a sort of nightstand.

Hidden in one part of the shelf was the entrance to his walk-in-closet beneath the bed.

Alternatively, Peter could enter it via the wall at the head end of the bed, by knocking a code on the wall, which opened it up to reveal a hole down.

To the right, when he ‘d step out of his closet was the door to his private bathroom.

If he’d look up while standing bevor it, he’d see a web, held up by two thick metal poles spanning through the middle of the room, located a good few inches higher than the gallery

Partly beneath it, on the wall opposite to the door leading into the room was a big desk with a computer on it and space for his homework.

Two thirds of this wall were made out of glass, seamlessly joining the wall next to it, to form a panorama window.

In the corner were the two glass walls met was a huge beanbag, partly let into the floor.

Lastly at the wall to the right of the door was a fireplace enclosed in a part of the wall standing a little into the room.

Bevor it stood a cosy armchair as well as a loveseat.

Beneath the gallery, in the corner near the fireplace was the other door, leading out to Tony’s floor.

Next to it was a terrarium standing like a partition. It was empty at the moment but Peter had planned to make a robotic snake to put in there.

On the other side of it was another seating area with a couch lining the terrarium and part of the walls. A flatscreen TV stood under the stairs, at the foot of his bed, a little couch table crowded the space further to make it feel like a tiny room inside if his big one.

Because big it was.

He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty with how overboard he and his friends had gone.

And that was only the ‘normal’ parts of his room.

Most of the wall space not covered by furniture had hexagonal shelves and cupboards let into them. All of them were in groups of eight and imitated a spider’s eyes in how they were sized and placed.

Many of those shelves were in places one couldn’t reach without the wallcrawler’s abilities.

Then there was the net he was currently laying in. It spanned along the two window walls

If someone other than him wanted to get up there, the teen could let down a rope ladder but most of the time it laid bundled up its corner next to the fireplace.

In the corner above his bed was another web. Unlike the other ones, which were made from soft but firm ropes, this one was made out of a permanent variant of the webs he used as spiderman.

The corner behind it was curved in a way that allowed him to completely press his back against it.

He had found that after nightmares he was sometimes overwhelmed with the urge to be as high as possible and have something solid and sticky behind him.

That’s what the web was for. It had a pattern of sticky threads woven into them and spanned a good few feet across the walls and ceiling.

Webs like these were called molt mats. They were only built by tarantulas for when they were molting and were usually located on the ground; but his human, common sense seemed to have convinced his instincts, that a higher position was safer.

His eyes lingered a little on the web.

It was purely made for comfort.

Comfort he wished he didn’t need.

...But he did.

With a sigh he looked over to the last furniture on the ceiling.

A desk with two chairs hanging over the little seating area on the gallery.

On the underside of the tables were clamps for any papers or books he wanted to read while upside down.

The height (lowness?) of both the table and seats were adjustable, so he could decide whether he wanted his feet to touch the ceiling while he hung there or not.

When he wanted to be upright, he could lower everything enough to comfortably sit on the top side, much like you would on a swing.

The free spaces of the ceiling were used much like the one on the walls; only that it was hexagonal latches, you could pull down a bit to reveal what was stored on top.

All of these latches as well as the shelves in the walls were rimmed in the same red his suit displayed. While the rest of the wall was painted in an ombre of blue. With a dark, almost black hue on the ceiling which lightened to a baby blue at the floor.

He turned his head back to the window and plucked absentmindedly at one of the ropes he lay on.

For some reason he was nervous, with his spider sense dully buzzing at the sides of his skull; like it always did when there was a test coming up or something like that.

It was probably the whole Loki situation that had him so worked up. But he couldn’t do anything more about it.

In his head he went through everything he had prepared to try and figure out if he had forgotten anything.

THE WIRES were closed and equipped with Manuel, who he had already informed of Loki’s arrival and how to handle everything.

To get food and other supplies to the trickster, they had the service robot. It had a plan of every hallway, secret or not, and knew how to plan routs that were entirely hidden.

His Watch was currently in his lab.

He wanted to modify it in a way that allowed him to switch between KAREN and Manuel; officially so the other Avengers wouldn’t get suspicious when they noticed Peter Parker had Spiderman’s AI with him.

Tony was the one who had insisted that he keep his identity a secret. The inventor still didn’t like the idea of him even being in the same room as the rogues.

What else was there…

The room for the god was long since furnished, FRIDAY wouldn’t be installed until the day after tomorrow and even then, she wouldn’t be able to trace the hidden resident via the electricity he might use because, as an emergency bunker, the room had its own arc reactor. Just in case.

A few moments of pondering later, he suddenly shot up in recognition, promptly banging his head into the ceiling.

Clothes. He didn’t have clothes for Loki.

Briefly rubbing his head, he made his way towards the wall and down.

He had to find something for him to wear.

He had roughly Clint’s size, didn’t he?

Chapter 1 Chapter 3  Chapter 5

[natashasbanner]

Prompt: Post Endgame. Tony lives. What if when the snap was reversed Natasha actually woke up, but she died on an alien planet, so now she's without food, water, and no way to contact her family. How is she going to get home?

Lost 

Also on AO3

X

Natasha woke with a sharp intake of breath. 

She didn’t open her eyes right away, but instead mentally took stock of any injuries, but came to the conclusion that she was fine. She remembered falling, forcing Clint to drop her from the cliff, but she didn’t remember hitting the ground. 

Finally she opened her eyes and stared up at the strange atmosphere of the planet. Slowly, she sat up and looked up at the cliff she’d fallen from. She should be dead, there’s no doubt about it. But here she was alive and mostly uninjured. 

“Where the hell is that guy in the cloak when you need him?” Natasha muttered to herself, as she pushed herself up from the ground. 

She checked the comm panel on her suit, but it was cracked and completely busted and the device Tony had given them to navigate the quantum realm was gone. 

Panic began to set in as she continued to look around the baren wasteland of a planet she was trapped on. She was stranded on a planet with no life other than the floating “guardian of the stone” that she was almost certain wasn’t actually alive. There was nothing on this planet that could sustain life for any amount of time. Add to that fact that Natasha was almost a decade behind her timeline and everyone who knew she was here had presumably returned to their present under the assumption that she was dead. 

In short, Natasha was fucked. 

But the thing she didn’t understand is why she was still alive, or back from the dead in the first place. The cloaked guy made it clear, in order get the soul stone, you had to lose something you loved. It was permanent, yet here she stood. 

And what did that mean for the mission? Would they be able keep the stone if she was alive? 

Natasha shook her head. It was all too much and she needed to find a way off this planet. 

She looked back up the cliff and decided it was her best chance of finding a way home. She just had to figure out to get up there. 

That’s how she spent the better the next few hours trying to make it up the cliff to no effect. After her latest attempt she was completely exhausted. She dropped back onto the stone ground and stared up the face of the cliff. It mocked her with its sheer impossibility to scale even if she hadn’t been exhausted. 

She had to get the hell off this planet and climbing out was becoming less and less of an option. Frustrated, she pushed herself from the ground and started pacing. She just needed to focus and come up with a plan. She glanced at her cracked communicator, there was no hope of fixing it especially considering her desolate surroundings. 

She needed to find Tony’s device, it was her only hope of getting back to her own time. But first she needed to rest, try to recoup some of her energy before she became completely useless. If she weren’t on an alien planet the lack of food and water wouldn’t be a problem, she’d gone days at a time on missions hunkered down with no food and a limited supply of water. This place was different. 

Natasha laid down on the stone, looking up at the clouds over head. She wondered how the team was doing on Earth. Did they get the rest of the stones and bring everyone back? Were they mourning her presumed death, preparing a funeral? 

She shook her head, banishing the thoughts. They got the stones, there was no doubt in her mind and completed the mission. That’s all that mattered. Her eyelids grew heavy the longer she laid there until she couldn’t fight it any longer.

She drifted off think of the team getting back to their lives and everyone who’d been snapped away adjusting to the new world. It’s a comforting thought and before she knew it she was asleep. 

X

“You’ll have to return the stones to the exact moment they were taken,” Bruce reminded Steve as he stood on the smaller version of the platform they’d used to collect the stones in the first place. 

It had been almost a week since they’d brought everyone back and had the huge showdown with past Thanos. Everyone who’d disappeared five years ago was returned home and they got the job done. The world was healing, you could feel it in the air, but Bruce felt a crushing hole in his heart. 

Natasha was gone and Tony was in the hospital and it was up in the air as whether or not he was going to wake up. And on top of that, after Bruce snapped he’d lost Hulk while everyone was brought back. It had been a gradual loss as the battle went on and by the end he was just himself again. 

After he’d finally found the balance for them to coexist peacefully Hulk was gone, for good this time. For all the years he’d spent resenting the Hulk, he never expected to feel that loss as acutely as he was. 

Bruce felt lost.  

“You okay?” 

Bruce blinked a few times and looked up to see Steve watching him. His expression was soft, a complete contrast to the no nonsense look he wore a minute ago. 

He cleared his throat and adjusted a few settings on the control panel needlessly. 

“I’m fine.” He looked back up at Steve who was still looking at him like he might shatter at any moment. “Are you ready?” 

Steve stared for a moment longer before straightening up and setting his shoulders. “You sure you don’t want to come along?” 

“I’ve had enough time travel for the time being,” he said patting his arm the was in a sling, strapped against his chest. “Just get the stones back where they belong.” 

Steve nodded, his jaw set as Bruce initiated the quantum tunnel to open. After Steve disappeared Bruce started counting down the ten seconds it would take Steve to return. His attention was so focused on the panel and the throbbing pain in his arm, he didn’t realized that it wasn’t Steve who returned on the platform until he heard the gasps from Sam and Bucky. 

When Bruce looked up, his heart jumped into his throat and he almost dropped to his knees where he stood. Natasha was laying on the platform, her eyes were open and glazed over but she was breathing. 

Sam and Bucky were at her side before Bruce could move. 

“She needs a hospital,” Sam said, looking up at Bruce with a mixture of shock and panic in his eyes. 

Bruce shook himself out of his shock induced stupor and rushed over to the platform. 

“Get her to the car, I’ll drive,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

Sam lifted her from the platform and carried her to the car, Bruce right behind him. Over Sam’s shoulder, Natasha held a hand and Bruce reached out to hold her fingers. He held on until Sam sat her up in the back seat of Bruce’s car and buckled her in. 

Sam closed the door as Bruce fished the keys out of his pocket. 

“How is this possible,” Sam asked in a whisper, looking at Bruce with misty eyes. 

Bruce shook his head and climbed into the car. “I don’t know.” 

He typed the nearest hospital into the his GPS and sped away. A hundred questions running through his mind as he urged the car to go faster and faster. He wasn’t entirely convinced that the wasn’t an extremely vivid dream. 

“Bruce?” 

It came out as a hoarse whisper and Bruce looked in the rearview mirror to see Natasha watching him. Her eyes were a little more focused while she was slumped against the door. 

“Don’t try to talk,” he said softly. “Just rest, we’re almost to the hospital.” 

She nodded and rested her head against the window.

Bruce pulled right up to the emergency room doors and got Natasha out of the car as carefully as he could and took her inside. After talking to the triage desk, they rushed her into the ER and Bruce was led to a waiting room. He sat there alone for what felt like hours spiralling in his own head. 

All the questions he’d pushed aside on the drive to the hospital came flooding back until Bruce felt like he might hyperventilate. 

How was this possible? Was the most pressing one. Clint had said the trade for the stone was permanent, a soul for a soul. Unless when Bruce tried to bring her back when he snapped actually worked, but that was crazy. 

Bruce’s head hurt by the time someone finally came to find him in the waiting room. 

“How is she?” he asked, jumping up from his seat. 

“She’s resting,” the doctor told him. “She was dehydrated and has a some superficial injuries but she should make a full recovery.” 

Bruce breathed a sigh of relief and dropped back into the waiting room chair. “Thank you.” 

“Her room’s at the end of the hall,” she said, “last door on the left.” 

He nodded and she left the room. Bruce just sat for a long time before he pushed himself to his feet. He made his way down the hall and knocked on the open door before stepping inside. 

Natasha turned her head from where she’d been looking out the window. 

“Hey,” he said softly and pulled a chair over to the side of her bed. 

“Hey.” 

Her voice was stronger than it had been in the car, some of her color had returned too. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Better,” she said and reached her hand out from under her blanket to squeeze his fingers. 

Bruce turned his hand over so he could lace their fingers together. Feeling her calloused palm against his and hearing the steady beat of her heart from the monitor grounded him, made that dream-like haze that fogged his mind since she’d appeared on the platform begin to fade. He was left with the startling, gut wrenching reality that Natasha was there, right across from him, very much alive.

“We thought you were dead,” he admitted, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. 

She chuckled softly. “I was, but then I woke up.” 

“If we knew you were still out there, we would have come sooner.” 

“I know.” 

They sat in silence for a long time, the rhythmic beeping of her heart monitor the only sound in the room. He noticed Natasha’s fighting her heavy eyelids and brought their joined up to kiss the back of her hand. 

“You should get some sleep,” he said and tried to let go of her hand but she held on tight. 

“Don’t go.” 

Her eyes were closed but her grip was tight, not that he planned on going anywhere anytime soon. 

“The others are going to want to know you’re okay,” he whispered. 

“Tomorrow,” she muttered, but it was barely audible over the sound of the monitor. 

He kissed her knuckles again and held her hand in his lap as she finally lost the battle with sleep. He watched her for a while, still not entirely convinced this wasn’t all in his head, before leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. 

Tomorrow this room was going to be filled to the brim with the rest of the team the second they found out that she was alive. He thought about telling them tonight, but figured Natasha needed more time to rest before she faced everyone. He was slowly losing his own battle with sleep and squeezed Natasha’s hand one last time before he let his own exhaustion take him. 

“Please don’t be a dream,” he whispered into the quiet room before drifting off. 

And to his surprise, when he opened his eyes the next morning she was still there, their fingers still loosely linked in his lap. He smiled to himself and that hole he’d felt in his heart started to mend.