#And because it just shows what itchy discomfort their in so clearly

[sneezarify]

for some reason I find it extra hot when someone’s nose is itchy and actually scratch their nose, rather than rub it!

[sokkastyles]

Every so often I see the sentiment that Toph's parents were "not that bad." It's so annoying to see. Like, sure, they're not as extreme as Ozai, but their treatment of Toph was 100% abuse. They isolated their daughter on the basis of her blindness and refused to allow her independence or autonomy. Just because there are worse parents in the series doesn't mean that Toph's parents were good. It felt weird how the writers of the comics made Toph and her dad reconcile so quickly.

I haven't read that comic and I don't necessarily think it's wrong for Toph to come to some reconciliation with her parents, who she clearly loves and who love her. But yeah, their treatment of her was abuse and what's so sad about it is that they never realized they did anything wrong. And I'd blame ableism for that and both the fandom's willingness to forgive them or say their treatment of her wasn't that bad. Toph's father, in particular, hired bounty hunters to kidnap her when she ran away, AFTER Toph had tried everything to try and get him to see how she was hurting because of the way he treated her. Which shows a complete lack of empathy for his daughter as anything other than some kind of pet that needs to be kept in a cage and taken care of.

For some reason, people also seem to like drawing fanart of Toph and her mom engaging in traditionally feminine mother-daughter activities, which makes me really itchy because this is NOT what Toph wants. It's what her mom wants, but her mom never comes to appreciate the daughter she has.

Fandom in general is really bad with gender-nonconforming female characters because of the damage that worship of traditional femininity has done to feminism. Toph gets hate in certain circles for not being feminine, and a lot of that also dismisses her disability because her gender nonconformity is very much informed by it.

I wrote before about how Toph, being blind, simply can't perform traditional aesthetic femininity, something which is beautifully illustrated in her story with Katara in "Tales of Ba Sing Se." She gets picked on in that episode by other girls because she obviously did not do her makeup by herself, and she can't even counter the insults because she can't even see what she looks like. It's not just that she doesn't like wearing makeup, it's a world completely closed off to her.

Unless she gets help from other people. And the show goes to great lengths to establish why Toph doesn't want help from other people, and that's something that should be respected. So yeah, no hate to anybody's fanart, but why do I keep seeing art of Poppy Beifong doing her daughter's hair like she's a pretty little doll? Not only is this not Toph, this is the opposite of what Toph wanted. Toph wants independence and so she focuses on the things she can do, which happen to be not traditionally feminine things. Being made up in a way that expresses how helpless she is and also makes her an object to be looked at by others, while she can't even see what she herself looks like, greatly diminishes her agency.

Note that I'm not saying blind people can't enjoy makeup or looking pretty. Just that for Toph, it's not her thing and she has a great deal of trauma surrounding it, so her discomfort with it should be respected.

I think the readiness to disregard how Toph feels, to overlook her parents' treatment of her, is also connected to the way society sees women as perpetually childlike. If Toph were a boy, I think her desire for independence would be taken more seriously, but she would also be derided for the ways she isn't independent because of her disability and because her parents conditioned her to be dependent upon them. See Zuko and the jokes about how he's stupid or incompetent at things for an example of that.

[hcnayun]

"Clearly you had your reasons," Hana fought back, "but you failed to communicate any of them to me like a real man. Like an adult would do. You just disappeared because you wanted to avoid accountability and responsibility." Why else would someone just dip the way he had? If he didn't tell her why he was leaving then it left no room for her stand up against his reasons.

So much swirled in her head and Hana could feel her stomach roiling at the mess of emotions, at the sudden return of the one that had really hurt her. What struck her most in that moment was the realization that Khalil cared so little of their relationship that whatever had come up they weren't worth fighting for. He ran at the first sight of trouble.

Had her mother gotten to him?

At his name being called again Hana felt her head throb and her black eyes followed his gaze as he looked back. Good, she thought, let him waste that money on two matcha lattes.

The stoicism he displayed only made the hurt and influx of mixed emotions worse. It was also an answer that she didn't want to accept because it was so repetitive in her life— how little she meant to the people she'd cared so much about. If only she could display strength rather than breaking down the way she currently was in front of someone she never really wanted to show just how much he'd destroyed her. Instead Hana broke down hard and fast.

The spiral into buried heartbreak was a free fall into the abyss.

Of course Khalil couldn't remember the details. The things she couldn't forget even though she desperately wanted to. But there was an incredibly discomforting itchy feeling under skin that this person Khalil was speaking of, the one that had interfered in their relationship, was the man that had been stalking her for years. The one responsible for her leaving New York for someplace obscure.

Rather than respond to his answers and excuses Hana waited until he had her phone in his hand. She needed confirmation if it was Flynn or not that had sent Khal running. When she received it she truly thought she was going to be sick. The lengths her harasser had gone to continued to surprise Hana and despite being states away, realizing Flynn's influence, she felt unsafe.

"I barely knew him," Hana confessed, voice shaken, "when we were together. He was a photographer I was assigned to work with often. I didn't find out until a few months after you left that he'd follow me and take photos of me everywhere, some that looked right inside my apartment, and he'd ask around about me. That was how he knew so much about me."

Admitting this openly to someone other than Nadia, her agent, and her family had weirdly stilled her emotions. Almost as though Hana had gone into a shock state, a trauma response, but the tremble wouldn't dissipate. The former model cleared her cheeks from the streams of tears that had fallen and looked up at Khal. Looked him in the eyes.

"I had to report him for harassment and stalking, get a restraining order because I'd come home and realize that someone had been in my apartment. It was subtle things— like a few things moved around and clothing items missing. He'd call my phone incessantly and leave strange voicemails. The texts..." A sigh was blown out from between her lips. "He started showing up places and the things he'd say..." Hana's head shook, there was just so much. It had taken a lot for her to leave her home and family.

"You never gave me a chance. You chose a stranger over me." That hurt more than Hana would ever be able to express. "The damage you've done..."

Relationships had never been his strong point. Even now, he struggled with the ability to keep so many truths hidden from the woman he'd let in by chance. Now, he wondered if he were even worthy of her. He'd caused so much pain and left so many broken hearts in his wake, perhaps it were only fair that someone broke his.

"You think I'm messing around? Trying to bend history to make myself look better? I admit, leaving was... not great, but I had my reasons and they weren't bullshit." If she couldn't understand that, then he wasn't sure what else there was to say.

The calling of his name again left him shooting a frustrated glare back towards the stand. It wasn't their fault he'd stormed off after someone who thought he was trying to gaslight them. Maybe it was good karma to let someone else take the drink he'd already paid for and tipped generously to be made in the first place.

Khalil chewed at the inside of his cheek, but other than that, gave nothing away as to how he felt. Years of field work and training had left him nearly unreadable to most. It was as good of a poker face as anyone could pose, but it dared to falter before her as genuine emotion poured out. Had he gotten it wrong? No. There was proof. How the hell could she deny that?

He stayed silent as she rambled on, his heart aching at the amount of pain he'd caused her, her own wrongdoings aside. Fists clenched tightly at his sides and every part of him wanted to fade into the buzzing crowd nearby. "I don't remember his name. I just remember him being super pissed off and I couldn't even blame him." He had given his best apology, but it wasn't good enough.

The details of the memory outside of his place were foggy. He remembered the male reaching out to him with an innocent shoulder tap, only for his speech to grow more aggressive with every heated word that rolled off his tongue. "Look, I don't remember if you were in them together or not, but he had them. He knew a lot about you and it wasn't just common knowledge stuff, Hana. He knew you, alright?" He'd been all too convincing and maybe Khalil should have pushed back more, but he hadn't.

"I don't know." He hadn't thought much about that either, but he'd merely assumed that the male had saw them together and had followed them. It wasn't rational, but if the man thought his girlfriend was being unfaithful, it added up.

Even with years between them, he noticed the shake in her frame and the panic in her eyes as she fumbled with her phone. Moments later, he was staring back at the man who'd turned his life upside down. Slowly, he nodded to confirm that the man on her screen was him. The angry boyfriend looking to push Khal out. "I wanted to, but he threatened my job and I thought... I thought it was legit. I thought you two were working on things and I couldn't risk it."

He'd been a coward, just as she'd said. "I don't need to see this," he countered, but he did as he was directed and swiped. Brows furrowed and heat settled in his face as he ran over the restraining order. Harassment. Stalking. "What — what is this?"

[flock-talk]

whenever my bird gets pin feathers she’s very cranky if we pet her and she always responds like it hurts her if i scritch her. but she also acts like it hurts for me to take the pin feathers out. i don’t know what to do. if i don’t take them out she’s uncomfortable but if i do she’s still uncomfortable. usually i just kinda hold her between my chest and chin and try to get as many out quickly and easily and then i leave her alone but i always feel bad because she hates it. i just don’t know what to do because i want to help her since they’re clearly causing discomfort but i don’t want to cause discomfort for her either. every time i look it up i just get the “if they’re not causing problems for your bird leave them alone otherwise you can take them out” and it’s just not helpful?

Aw poor baby :( moulting time is no fun!

Honestly I was going to give you the same advice because it’s true. If they’re sore and uncomfortable just leave them alone and they will flake off on their own when they’re ready.

In the meantime there are other things you can do to help reduce the itchiness/ soreness your bird may be experiencing! Add a humidifier to their space, this will help hydrate the skin and reduce inflammation, alternatively you can bring them in to the bathroom when you shower so the warm steam can have the same effects. Often birds don’t want to bathe when they’re moulting but the moisture will do them a lot of good so humidity and steamy showers (even if they don’t touch the water) are helpful alternatives. You can add more omegas to the diet to further hydrate the skin, reducing dry-based itchiness things like fattier seeds and coconut shreds! I like to add extra coconut shreds to their chop for that.

It can be tempting to just hold them still and remove what you can but it doesn’t benefit much. The part you take off isn’t what’s sore, it’s the dark black base near the skin that’s still receiving blood flow that’s causing the majority of the pain and discomfort so it’s really best to just leave them be if they don’t want the scritches. If your bird shows they want scritches then go for it but if they show signs of pain then I would switch to hands-off or very gentle movements. If they want the scritches but they hurt you can gently rub the skin around the base of the feather with the tip of your finger (not your nails) to help massage the area, soothe some of those itches, and help blood flow to the feather so it can grow quickly and healthily.

[lihikainanea]

so it's summer and it's great but the heat is absolutely unforgiving. what if Tiger gets like, a reaction from the excessive sweat that this season brings and there's like a rash-like discoloration on the sides of her body, her back? I get these every summer and, it's hard to look at myself in the mirror when I put the cream on so they go away. I'm thinking Bill would help, but after Tiger lets him since she's a lil embarrassed and shy about them.

Ohhh bubs, I feel you. I have SUCH sensitive skin that I swear, I cry and then I have to spend like a week treating the eczema outbreak on my face that my own goddamn tears cause.

The heat and all that comes along with it can have some icky side effects and my girl tiger ain't spared. Heat rash? yep. Mild sun allergy that causes a rash? Yep. Hives because she's basically allergic to everything outside? Yep. Eczema outbreak because all the rashes are stressing her out? Yep.

Are we even going to talk about underboob and thigh chafe? Shit, yes we are because this is some real life BULLSHIT that most of us have to deal with.

And what if it's exactly that. Hear me out. She's been purposely avoiding getting nekkid with Bill for a few days--She's got this weird heat rash that's going down one side, itchy as all hell and red and bumpy. She manages to camouflage most of it with a loose fitting sundress, something of breathable material, but she just happens to need a strapless bra with it--and strapless bras are an Enemy of the Goddamn State, man. Maybe it's a nice cocktail hour at a schmancy new bar that opened so she's dressed cute, except one of her completely heat-resistant friends got them all a table outside because clearly this friend was born and raise din the fires of Hades, so a heatwave doesn't bother them. It's outside, and tiger is fucking dying. The sweat running down her side is making her itch even more and burning the sensitive, already-irritated skin there. She feels like she's fucking melting into a puddle under the blaze of the hot sun, which she's pretty sure is searing her make up off. She feels like a swamp monster.

And if that's not bad enough--the group decides to walk for ice cream after. They decide to walk QUITE a long ways for ice cream. And all that sweat that she has going underneath her dress is just making her bra dig into the fragile skin under her breasts, and the more her thighs rub together as she walks the more she can feel the chafe like, peeling off a layer of her fucking skin and she wants to die.

And Bill for his part is kind of walking a bit ahead with his boys, maybe it's been awhile since he's seen them so he's not keenly aware of the absolute hell that tiger is currently in. Until she snaps when, after ice cream, it's time to walk alllllllll the way back to the car.

"Fuck this," she mutters, "I'm out." And then a little louder. "Bill, I'm out."

He gives her a worried look, taking a few long strides until he's back with her.

"Okay kid," he says, "We can leave as soon as we get back to the car."

"Yep." She smiles, wide and scary--but doesn't move.

"It's...It's this way," he gestures somewhat helplessly to the direction everyone else continues walking in.

"Sure is."

She still doesn't move.

"....tiger?"

He jumps a mile when she lets out the loudest whistle he's ever heard, nearly giving him an uppercut as her hand shot up quickly. A cab came to a screeching halt, and she opened the door.

Confused but knowing better than to argue, Bill folded himself in half in the back seat as the cab drove them the 3 minute distance to the car.

"Are you....okay?" he asks cautiously as she buckles up her seatbelt in his car, and tiger just...man, tiger wants to go home. She's so uncomfortable, she's so itchy, everything burns, she's still overheated and she's just so over this night.

"I'm tired and too hot," she says instead, "Just take me home."

And like, look. Once they're home? Bill goes to unzip her dress because she always needs help with it, but tiger kind of smacks his hands away and huffs. He doesn't think much of it, she's just fussy and in a bad mood and she doesn't always want to be touched when she's feeling that way. And tiger, in the meantime, is just trying to locate either some calamine lotion or some cortisone cream or hell just a million ice packs that she can place on her side, between her thighs, under her breasts--everywhere that just seems on fire at the moment.

She heads to the bathroom, closing the door so she can rummage the cupboards in peace. She finally takes the dress off and flings her bra across the room and she winces at what she sees in the mirror. Her entire side is red and bumpy, an angry, itchy rash scaling up her torso. Tenderly, she rubs the skin under her breasts and bites her lip in pain--the skin there is raised, bright red, irritated and stinging. A quick check on her inner thighs reveals the same thing. She sighs, running the tap so that Bill won't hear her.

But listen, Bill? Bill just thinks she's washing her face, and he wanders in with a little whisky digestif and to see if he can entice her into taking a bubble bath with him. He opens the door and tiger shrieks, grabbing at a towel to cover herself--but not before he got a good view of what seems like half her body, bright red and irritated.

"Tiger," he gasps softly, "Kid what happened?"

"Bill get out," she squeaks, wrapping the towel around herself.

"No," he says. He yanks at her towel but she smacks his hand away.

"Bill," she says, a tad more angry now, "Leave me alone."

"No," he says again, "Tiger, show me."

"No."

"Tiger," it's his turn to be stern now, "We have rules. And so help me, if you don't drop that fucking towel then there will be another part of you that is bright fucking red. Now show me."

"It's okay," she sighs defeatedly, "It's just... a bit irritated."

She opens the towel a tad, showing him her side. Bill puts the whiskey glasses down and hold the towel open, leaning to get a closer look.

"What happened?" he asks softly, "Are you allergic to something?"

"No," she mumbles--god this is embarassing--"It's just...the heat. It gave me a bit of a rash that won't go away."

He nods, his eyebrows knitting together, and he tugs gently to undo the knot on her towel. When she protests he gives her a stern look and she sighs, letting him undo her covering. Gently, he runs his fingers along the side of her breasts and trail them down her rib cage.

"And here?"

"Strapless bra, sweat, and rubbing," she winces when he hits a sensitive spot and he apologizes, "Recipe for disaster."

He nods, his eyes sweeping over her looking for more markings.

"Anywhere else?" he asks after a beat. Tiger bites her lip, and he gently tugs it free with his thumb. She sighs, giving up, and rests her foot on the toilet so he can see her inner thigh.

"Dump truck thigh chafe," she says, "It's a killer."

He leans, kissing the marking softly.

"Oatmeal," he says as he stands and turns for the door, "A lukewarm oatmeal bath, and some calamine lotion."

"Bill, I'm handling it. It's not--"

But he spins back around.

"We. Have. Rules." every word is short, curt, and accentuated with a step as he backs her up to the tub and looms tall over her, "Don't we sweet girl?"

"Yes."

"And do you think that hiding this from me--spending the evening in discomfort and pain and not telling me anything--is that following the rules?" he asks. God he's authoritative when he's like this.

"Probably not?" she tries. A quick, challenging quirk of his brow and suddenly she's not so brave. "No, it's not following the rules."

"And trying to stop me from taking care of it when I do find out, is that following the rules?"

"No," she says meekly, "It's not."

"That's right, it's not," he says and he kisses her softly, "So you're going to let me take care of these markings, and then you're going to get some brand new ones."

And listen, Bill is more just pissed that tiger was in pain, clearly for at least a few days, and she didn't tell him. He's even more pissed that she sat there so uncomfortable that night, and also didn't tell him. But he puts his anger aside to care for her first--and an oatmeal bath it is, he gets in there with her and soaks while they sip their whiskey. And when they get out, he carefully dabs calamine lotion all over her--giving it a second to dry before pulling his big shirt over her head.

"Bedroom," he says, "Now."

Tiger slinks away--but also, man, what if our girl just ain't feeling it tonight? Yes, she was bad. Yes, she broke the rules. She's a little small about it but she's dealing okay, and truth be told she just...ugh, the thought of another patch of her skin being red and irritated and sore from a spanking is just kind of too much for her. It's a discomfort and a pain that she just doesn't feel up to dealing with tonight, after already spending so much time uncomfortable. SO maybe she's kneeling on his side of the bed when he comes in to find her, and as he approaches she just kind of thunks her head on his thigh, fiddles with the waistband of his boxers.

"Bill," she says softly, "Can I...can you punish me tomorrow for this? I've had enough discomfort for today. I don't want it."

Bill's heart could explode. He smiles at her--big and wide and totally dopey, hooks his hand around her arms and sets her on her feet gently.

"Good girl," he purrs, kissing her deeply, "My good girl."

She coos a little at that, and he tucks her into his chest for a tight hug.

"You tell me when you're ready to be punished kid, and we'll do it then," he tells her. She nods, and when he lays out in bed tiger just lies flat on his chest, sticks his thumb in her mouth, and starts snoring a few seconds later. Bill just lovingly tends to her for the next day or two--lukewarm baths, lots of calamine, lots of unscented soothing lotions--and then eventually after a few days when he's sitting on the couch playing a video game, tiger just walks in, shimmies out of her panties and lies across his lap.

"Let's have it bud," she tells him, "Make it hurt."

[thiswasinevitableid]

94 for sternclay for the winter prompts??? Especially if trans stern because I love that for him:’) either nsfw or sfw, hope you have a wonderful day!!!!! Your writing is a gift

Thank you so much!  I went with NSFW, and Stern is indeed trans.

94. you overhear my ex mocking me for being single at a holiday party and introduce yourself as my SO with a kiss on the cheek but we’ve never spoken before 

The things he does to pay for culinary school. 

It’s not the catering gig that’s bothering him; he takes pride in making food at conferences and office parties better than expected. It’s the fucking red, white, and green uniforms they’re making them wear for this one. It’s hot, itchy, and he really would prefer to wear the winter sweater Thacker gave him last year. It’s rustic but festive. It’s also sitting in his car, because no one told him about these uniforms until he got here. 

You can’t spring a surprise uniform on a guy who’s 6’4 and 190 pounds. The vest digs into his stomach, the jacket is too tight, and the pants don’t cover his ankles. 

It’s too bad, this party is pretty fun to work. It’s for a big-name publisher looking to seem hip, so the band is good and the decorations don’t look like the Macy’s Parade puked all over the room. 

The meals aren’t sit down, more a five hour cocktail party with canapes on trays and a spread of food at the back. Barclay sets out a new plate of crostini, wondering if they have enough fruit for the evening, when someone taps his shoulder. 

“How can I help-”

“I need a refill.” James, his ex, smirks at him.

“Not the bartender.” Barclay picks up the empty tray. 

“So?”

“I stopped being the guy to refill your drinks when you dumped me. Go ask whatever poor sap you dragged to this to do it for you.”

“Poor sap? Barclay, you sound like one of those boring mysteries you always read.”

“I’m trying not to swear, I’m at work.”

“Too bad you left me-”

“You broke up with me”

“-You could be enjoying the party instead of serving lukewarm food in a ridiculous outfit. Then again, looking like a clown suits you.”

“Man, c’mon.” Barclay can’t get into it here, James is absolutely the kind of guy who will use it to get him fired.

“Not surprised you haven’t found someone who wants to put up with your whole puppy-dog routine. What good is all that bulk if you’re just a pus-”

“There you are.” An arm snakes around Barclays waist and he freezes. James stands up straight, plastering on a smile.

“I wish I’d know ahead of time this is where you were working tonight. It feels wrong to be out mingling when you’re stuck back here. Oh well, next year.” A soft kiss lands on his cheek and in his surprise he turns to look at it’s source. 

The man is almost his height, trimmer and dressed in a black suit with a blue and silver tie. He’s blue eyed, with jet black hair slicked back and a face that puts every movie star Barclay can name to shame.

Barclay has no fucking clue who he is, or if he’s mistaking Barclay for someone else. He doesn’t seem drunk enough for that. 

“Mr. Stern, it’s an honor to meet you, I, uh, this-”

“This must be the ex you told me about, right, big guy?” Mr. Stern sets a protective hand at the small of his back.

“Uh, yeah. Babe, this is James.”

“So, where at Penguin do you work?”

“I, um, oh, look, someone is calling me. Bye, Barclay, nice seeing you again.”

The hand doesn't leave his back until James is out of sight.

“I’m sorry. He was harassing you and that seemed like the fastest way to make him stop.” Mr. Stern is still standing proud, but his voice is now softer, almost shy. 

“That’s, uh, that’s totally fine. I really appreciate the help. Kinda surprise you saw flirting as more appealing than, like, pretending to be my boss or something.”

“He’d know I wasn’t, trust me. And don’t sell yourself short, Barclay.” Blue eyes lock onto him and scan all the way to his feet, “even a bad fitting uniform can’t hide what you have you offer.”

“Th-thanks.” He’s either going to hide behind the serving tray or ask this guy to take him home and he’s not sure which will reinforce Jame’s “puppy dog” taunt more.

The other man, sensing his discomfort, steps back, “Sorry, that was inappropriate. I know better than to flirt with someone who’s at work and can’t escape. I shouldn’t keep you from doing what you need to do.”

“I get off at nine.” He thwacks the tray over his mouth, “ow. Uh, and I don’t mind talking to you. If you want to. I, uh, I don’t want you to feel like you have to spend this whole party chatting with the help instead of having fun.”

A sigh, “I should go mingle. It’s really okay if I come back?”

“Yeah.” Barclay smiles. There’s no way this guy is coming back; if he’s here single, he’ll have a date in the next five minutes. 

Fifteen minutes later, he’s standing a respectful distance away and asking Barclay how this compares to other parties he’s worked.  

“Middle-ground. It’s not the one time I got to work my friends art gallery opening, and it’s not the wedding where someone tried to deck the bride with the chocolate fountain.”

“Oh my lord.” 

“I was in the line of fire and was washing chocolate out of my beard for an hour.”

“No one at home to do it for you?” It’s not subtle, and nor is the glance he gets over the rim of a cocktail glass. 

“Some things I’d rather not ask Mama’s help on.” 

“You still live with family?” There’s no judgement in that smooth voice, just genuine curiosity.

“Oh, no, Mama’s my...I mean she’s technically my boss but she’s also my friend, almost like an older sister. I live above where I work because she owns the whole building and takes in staff rent-free when she can. It’s nice working at her place, since I can cut my hours doing this.” He gestures to the nearby table of season fare, “which does mean I missed the attempted kabob-maiming last week. Relatedly, I’m happy this isn’t an all you can drink party.”

“You and me both. Two years ago Dean Koontz threw a punch. I think it was--oh, um, excuse me, work calls.”

This time, Barclay allows himself a moment of ogling as Stern walks away.

They pick up where they left off when the other man comes back, leading Barclay to mention he’s a cook at Amnesty Lodge .

“Wait, really? I love the Lodge, the food there is incredible.”

Barclay’s skin matches his terrible red pants, “Thanks. The head chef has been letting me do more of the menu and I’m really proud of it.”

“You should be. It’s perfect, although it’s a pity you being in the kitchen means I haven’t seen you sooner.”

He tries to say thank you again, but it comes out a garbled squeak

“Was that too far?”  

“Nope. Uh, it’s uh, just that I’m out of practice flirting or, like, getting compliments. They were pretty thin on the ground in my last relationship.”

“I see.” He’s learning to watch Stern’s eyes rather than the rest of his face, which hardly ever changes from it’s calm, professional set. Said eyes drip with disapproval. 

Old habits of defending people--even ones who are dicks to him--kicks in, “I mean, he kind of has a point. No one wants to date a six foot puppy. Guys like me are supposed to be all in-charge and shit like that.”

Stern raises an eyebrow, “maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.”

“Got any ideas on where I, uh, should be looking?” He takes a half-step towards Stern, standing up straighter. Stern doesn’t move an inch, but gives him a proud smirk. The pride is directed at Barclay.

“Lots. And I’ll share them as soon as you’re off the clock.”

“Don’t I even get a hint?” Another step.

“No, Barclay, you don’t. You’ll just have to show me you can be patient.” His tone changes, laced with the promise of a hidden prize that Barclay will do anything to earn. 

He just manages to whisper out “okay” as Stern is called away again. When he comes back, Barclay setting out clean plates and more silverware. They talk about restaurants, about Barclay’s friends and all the ways he tries to help them. Barclay endeavors to not go into full begging mode in public by looking at Sterns wrists rather than literally anywhere else on his body.

“What are those things in your cufflinks?”

“The Hodag. It’s a cryptid from Northern Wisconsin, and a really excellent example of completely fabricated cryptid that nevertheless goes on to have a life of it’s own. It’s very common in small towns, since if it goes well it acts a tourist draw. In fact, there’s some indication that even the Loch Ness Monster began as just such a hoax and-” He snaps his mouth shut, clears his throat, “sorry, I try not to talk shop at these things. It, um, tends to get on people’s nerves.”

“But I wanted to hear the rest. I mean, I have a high info-dumping tolerance because of one of my friends, but also you clearly know your stuff and I have no clue about any of it so please keep talking?”

Stern’s face is full of excitement, and he grows more animated as he talks. It’s the cutest goddamn thing Barclay’s ever seen, and he saw Dr. Harris Bonkers, his friend’s rabbit, as a baby bunny in a bow-tie. 

He clocks out two minutes after nine, and Stern is waiting for him near the doors to the staging room. 

“Are those the only clothes you have with you?”

“No. I have nicer stuff in the car that I planned on wearing.”

“Go get it. Here, I’ll walk down with you so you won’t have trouble getting back in the building.”

After jogging to his car while Stern waits for him in the gold and silver tinseled lobby, the older man guides him to an elevator. He’s pretty sure Stern is older than him; he’s a big deal, but not in some sort of prodigy way, which means he needed some time to get so well-known. 

They’re so busy coming up with Cryptid-themed ice cream flavors that Barclay doesn’t notice the floor number until they step out into a darkened hall.

If Stern brought him up here so they could have a quick fuck, he’ll jump for joy. 

“My office is this way. I figure you might like changing not in front of your co-workers or in a bathroom.”

Damn it, why does he have to be considerate instead of horny?

The office Stern brings him to is modestly sized with a huge bank of windows on the one side, facing out over the city. From here he can see apartments, stores, restaurants, all lit up in festive colors, trees dotting the little boxes of light. 

Stern locks the door, leans back against it, and nods at the clothes in Barclays arms, “Put them on.”

“Here?” He eyes the wide windows, the fact that the other man makes no move to leave or turn around.

“Yes.”

He manages, around the heart trying to hammer up his throat, “Are, uh, are you gonna watch?”

“Do you want me too?” There it is, the immediate softness in his voice, and Barclay understands that if he says no, he’ll have his privacy.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He reaches for the vest, gets the first button and goes for the second in a hurry. 

Stern raises his hand in a ‘pause’ gesture, “Slow down.”

“Yes, yes Mr. Stern.”

A gentle laugh, “Not quite, big guy. Were we anywhere else, I’d tell you to call me Joseph. But here..” he tucks his hands casually into his front pockets, “here you call me sir.”

“Fuck”  Barclay battles himself to keep his pace slow, needing to be good but also so turned on he’s afraid he’ll start humping the furniture. He forces himself to wait a count of two between each button, gets his vest and shirt off without further instruction. Stern watches him the entire time in silent appreciation. His shoes and pants are more awkward to take off while standing, and he braces himself on the desk, not wanting to sit without permission. 

Then he’s standing there in nothing but his black boxers and the lights of town, laughter floating from the party while Stern studies him like a menu. 

“Fold every and set it on the chair.” 

He follows orders, boggles at getting hard from someone telling him to fold laundry. Jesus, Stern hasn’t even touched him. Is he even planning to? Barclay can’t decide which option he likes better. He returns to his spot in front of the desk, hands folded in front of him. 

“Should I, uh, get dressed, sir?”

Stern pushes off the door, walking casually over like a shopper regarding a display, “That depends; do you want to do back to the party with your cock hard enough to hammer nails?”  He glances down, then back up with a pointed stare. 

“N-not really.”

Stern raises an eyebrow. 

“Not really, sir.”

“Then we’ll have to do something about it.”

“Are you sure we should do it here?”

“Barclay, if we get caught, I’ll be twice as mortified as you. I’m only doing this because we’ve got this whole floor to ourselves.” He cups Barclay’s cheek and the sighs, rubbing his face against a warm palm. 

“Okay sir, I trust you.”

A moan curls up between them as Stern’s other hand runs along his chest.

“Good boy. You like to be good, don’t you, Barclay? You like taking care of people?” 

“Yes, so much sir, please, lemme be good to you.”

Joseph strokes his face, “That’s very thoughtful, Barclay. But I think it’s been awhile since someone took care of you. Would you like me to do that?”

“Please, sir.” The response is pulled from him, one of the many parts of him aching magnetically to be near to Stern. 

The other man shoves his right hand down Barclays boxers, sliding his thumb over the head once before stroking steadily up and down. 

“Holy fuck��� Stern gasps, “a guy could have a lot of fun with this thing.”

“It’s all yours, sir.” 

Fuck, where did that come from?

Stern groans, tips his head to kiss across Barclays chest, murmuring as he does, “Is that what you want, Barclay? You want this” he speeds up until Barclay’s hands fly to the edge of the desk, keeping him from dropping to the floor, “to be mine?”

He whines, nodding.

Stern’s hand stops.

“Yessir”

It starts up again, “what else do you want, big guy?” He’s still kissing all over his upper body, tone nonchalant.

“You, sir, I wanna fuck you or, or you can fuUUUck me if you want, not very good at bottoming-”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Stern lightly pinches his nipple, “what else?”

“I want to blow you, and, and FUCK, I bet you’re a fucking great kisser and I want you to fucking boss me around as much as you want, wanna wear a collar, a blue one, ohfuck” Barclay scrapes his nails along the woodgrain, “fuck, sorry, that was weird-”

“No, say more” his grip tightens and to Barclay’s surprise he’s panting, “tell me everything you want, even it’s got nothing to do with sex.”

“I want, fuck, to be tied up and told how good I am, want to wear something stealth sexy out in public, want to fuck in a cabin” his mouth is fully ahead of his mind, which is concentrated entirely in his dick right now, “want to eat at every five star place in the city, want to drag you places by that fancy tie, have a new car, buy any cookbook I see, I want, oh fuckohfuck, sir, I wanna cum please, want to so bad.”

“You can cum whenever you like, big guy. But you have to kiss me while you d-” 

He cuts Stern off with a kiss, clinging to his shoulders and pouring desperate, deep sounds down his throat. Stern kisses back with precision and a pleased moan when Barclay cums in his boxers. 

Stern eases his hand out and Barclay flops against him, face buried in his neck as he rumbles out a thank you. 

“D-do you want me to blow you, sir?”

Stern kisses below his ear, “Yes, but that’s not doable right now. Unlike you, I don't have a change of clothes, and something tells me you’re a, um,” he bites Barclays ear, “messy eater.”

“Only when I’m enjoying myself, sir.” 

“You don’t have to keep calling me that, unless it helps you come down.”

“I’m okay, Joseph. Heh” he smiles, inhales a minty cologne, “I like that name. It’s classic.”

“Thanks, I picked it myself.”

Barclay chuckles, snuggles closer while ignoring the sticky underwear. 

“You know, I can give you everything you want. If you want me to.”

“Some of those are really fucking expensive, babe.”

“You really have no clue who I am, do you?” Stern steps back, moving to the other side of the desk and pulling out a packet of wet-wipes, sliding one across to Barclay before cleaning his hands.

“A really cute guy who should let me take him to dinner?” Barclay pulls down his underwear to clean the cum from his stomach.

“Ever heard of Lucky Park?”

“No fucking way. I man, I know it’s a pen name, but there’s no fucking way, a guy who’s never off the NYT Bestseller list wouldn't fuck a nobody cook.”

“If the cook was hot and interesting to talk to he would. The kitchen skills help a little.” Stern winks

“But you wrote The Peregrine Quintent,  and Red Dust, jesus christ your stuff has been movies.”

“Now you see why James was so startled; I’m Penguins golden goose. That’s why I even have time to write books on cryptids; they know to indulge me. Plus I put out at least a book every two years for them and it always makes a fortune. Do you need to sit down? You look kind of lightheaded.”

“I’m fine, uh, just trying to make sense of it all. Also I can’t sit down unless you want my bare ass on your chair.”

“Another time. I guess you’re going commando for the rest of the party, but I think you can handle it, big guy.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” He grabs his pants and pulls them on, “holy fuck, this can’t be real, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Barclay” Stern touches his arm, “it absolutely makes sense. I had so much fun talking with you, you’re such a, um, a sweetheart. And you’re built like a wet dream. If, um, if this is too much too soon, tell me to back off but I, I’m serious. I can’t remember the last time I got butterflies like this around someone, or wanted to buy things or do things just to make them smile. You clearly look after so many people in your life; will you let me look after you, at least for a little while?”

“You really want to?”

“Unlike some people, I like big men with a gentle center. You can be my six foot puppy any time. Wait, hold on, that, um, that came out weird.” Stern giggles and Barclay, now dressed, pulls him into a kiss. 

“I get it, babe. You wanna go show me off?”

“Of course. I’ll get my camera ready; we have to record your exes reaction.” Stern kisses his cheek, “after all, maybe this will teach him to know a good man when he sees one.”

[zerotexas1975]

home (part 3);

↳ pairing: jimin x female reader

↳ genre: hybrid au | fluff | angst

↳ word count: 2,985

↳ warnings: none for this!

↳ prompt by @hybridfanfiction

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 (final) | masterlist

Eighth.

That’s going to be the eighth shelter you break in.

It was after the second one that you realized that you just couldn’t walk in and ask for Jimin — that you had to be smart and lie to their faces so you could look around or simply find a way not to be seen.

And once it was getting dark and everything started to close it became easier — to blend into the shadows, to hold your breath longer if needed and make your steps less noisy.

The cold air was welcomed every time you stepped out of those places empty handed, face hot with frustration and heart sore because of the ones you couldn’t help.

Then you would start it all over.

You can do this all night, for as long as you’d have to — but you can’t deny how much your feet hurt and how dry your tongue is inside of your mouth, so to distract yourself from the tiredness while you inspect the surroundings of the next shelter, you think.

You think about how mean everyone is and how bad this is. You doubt you will be able to forget the hybrids eyes you ran into, the fear they held in them — though you won’t deny the fuel it gives you. You don’t want Jimin to feel like this.

You haven’t seen the cat hybrid in six days now, and with every day that passes you get more and more anxious. You’ve been to every shelter that works with Hybrid Control in your city, then you started to look for the ones who says they don’t. You are twice as tired because after every night of looking for him, you have to go back home and get ready for work, which is not as demanding as your last one and people are nice with you for once, but still. The fact that you have to wake up too early in the morning after going to bed not long before only adds weight to your chest. And you’re now running out of shelters to go.

Now in the outskirts of the city, you sigh heavily. The black and white flag in your phone tells you you arrived at your destination, but there’s nothing for you to see here. At least not explicitly. You try to provide some kind of relief to yourself, holding the back of your neck with your cold hand. You feel your head throbbing, and your eyes sting with both lack of sleep and irritation.

But you are not ready to give up yet, so you walk the sidewalks made of grey stones watching your surroundings until you stop in front of a complex. There’s a cheap plaque glued to the front door, with its letters almost faded. You can read the words closed and shelter, which is all enough for you to understand.

You tilt your head back to take a better look, but every light is out. You force the door handle down, but as you expected it is locked.

Pressing your ear against it, you can’t hear the whine of any kind of animal, nor something that gives you a tip about how many people are inside or if there’s any.

You turn the corner of the building, a small park lot with no cars or lazy security. The streets are also empty at this hour at night, but it feels too weird for you that the place looks abandoned when you look up for shelters on the internet and it is one of the first ones to pop up, all good comments about how good they treat their hybrids. You remember not putting this one in your list because of that and how far from you it was. You clearly missed the dates of the comments.

You check the address one last time before shoving your phone in your pocket, ready to go home — because it probably is what it looks like. Abandoned.

But before you can leave, something catches your attention.

A sharp glint reflects on your eyes if you twist your head in a certain direction and you follow it with your gaze.

You lower your body until you are in all four and crawl closer to what you can only describe as a small tinted window — which stood clean like new at the back of the building, looking completely out of place from the rest of it, almost hidden behind trash cans.

Yet this is not what unsettles you and makes you think that there’s more to it than it actually shows.

It’s the metal handle who held chains locked in a big padlock.

The yellow lights of the street illuminates your face, who adorns a thoughtful expression before sudden realization hits you, forcing your heart to pound harder and drum into your ears.

“Be careful,” he warned, looking inside of your eyes as he leaned closer to you and over the counter, hand sliding down to hold yours. You feel something cold inside of it and when you look down — it’s a key.

“The key,” you muttered almost in a daze, shaking so hard you drop the small object the second you grasp it from your pocket, skittering your eyes over the floor to catch and hold it so hard against your palm you have it printed on.

You press it against your chest, a small request leaving your lips. Just please be it.

You graze your elbow when with no care you reach to the padlock, hissing lightly but easily forgetting about the pain when you push the key in and it unlocks.

The chain falls to the floor and the sound startles you, making you gasp loudly before you shut your mouth and look around to see if there’s anyone watching you.

When you are certain you are still alone, you take both the padlock and key with you, shoving them under one of the trash cans. You doubt honestly — seeing how everything seems meticulously displayed to no one finding out, that anyone is coming to check, but you want to make sure that if it happens they won’t be able to lock you in.

You take out your phone in front of you and turn the flashlight on, leaning over the window to take a better look inside.

It is structured like a common basement, though the low ceiling forces you to hang your head down when you duck in. The smell is heavy and you can’t quite figure out what it reminds you of, but it makes your nose itchy as you walk trying to find another way out, avoiding all the cardboard boxes that are on the way.

There’s not much to look at, and you focus on the walls to see if there are any other windows or air ducts, not giving up when you fail to find them, pushing away a pile of boxes certain that there’s something behind them.

You stare at the door, a dull red full of scratches. And though there’s nothing for you to get a grip on — giving you the illusion that you just can’t open it, you force a foot against it lightly.

When the door creaks open with a disturbing squeaking sound you smile to yourself.

The place is quietly and carefully guarded on the outside, but on the inside it doesn’t seem like they thought they’d need to be that cautious.

At this point you are sure Jimin is in here. If the place by itself and the key is anything to go by, that is — because if it was up to this..., you think, scanning the basement one last time then turning to the small set of stairs you have in front of you.

You take the few steps and get to a dark corridor. The high ceiling and another set of stairs to your right tells you they have at least another level apart from this, and you decide it’s better to go up there first after you light a sign at the wall with a small map of the place. There’s no description under each room, but you assume if they were to have hybrids somewhere it should be on the second floor, seeing they have more separated areas there.

You scrunch your nose up though the smell in here is not strong as it is in the basement, but compared to every other place you’ve been this is the dirtiest, feeling discomfort as you step on wet pieces of newspapers, holding tightly the handrail as you go up so you won’t slip.

You go inside every room you can once you reach the next floor, most of them doesn’t even have doors to hide its contents from you — single beds without mattresses, and one or two door wardrobes, and you walk around hopeless honestly, because you called for Jimin’s name once or twice and you didn’t get a response back.

That is until you sink your feet into a puddle, cursing loudly at yourself but falling silent when you hear a hiss.

You frown, eyes focused at the only room you didn’t get in, its door standing ajar.

Biting your lips, you stay still trying to hear something else, wincing when you decide to approach the door and your wet shoe makes noise.

What if it’s not Jimin who is inside but another cat hybrid? And if it’s Jimin why didn’t he reply when you called him? He didn’t want to see you?

You angle the flashlight to the door, walking slowly to squeeze your body through, pushing it without much force so it doesn’t scare whoever is at the other side.

And when you finally step inside the room — recklessly ignoring a low growling, you recognize Jimin’s silhouette at the corner, almost dropping your phone once you shine the light on his face, watching his ears stand straight at the top of his head and his tail flick behind him angrily, while his eyes glow orange at your direction.

He’s in a defensive position until you realize he recognizes you too, his eyes instantly going back to normal and body slumping backwards and hitting the wall once the adrenaline rush off of him. “Y/N?”

His voice was rough, like he didn’t use it for days and he pressed his body harder against the wall to the pace you walked closer to him.

Why he’s walking away from you?

“It’s me,” you lift both of your hands so he can see you mean no harm, turning the light to your face and watching him go back and forth from a lethargic state before he’s nodding his head at you. “What happened to you?” you say softly, sitting down in front of him and reaching a hand to touch him when he jerks away from your touch. You distract yourself from the pain you felt by scanning his body in look for any physical injuries, but you can’t find any.

This is a little familiar for the two of you. Sitting across from each other while you try to reach for him as he shy away from your eyes. You notice he is wearing one of the hoodies you gave him and that he twists the end of the fabric while giving you quick glances from the corner of his eyes, making your stomach twist.

“I-I’m disgusting, Y/N,” he says finally, hanging his head low. “This place is disgusting, why are you here?”

“What SeHuo has to do with this?” you ignore him asking this instead, but Jimin looks just confused as you, eyebrows lightly furrowed as he stares at his lap. “He gave me the keys to this place,��

He opened his mouth in surprise, then explained hesitantly like he didn’t want you to know. “This is where I live.”

“Oh,” you breathed, not happy with the conditions you found Jimin in, but relieved because he didn’t sleep on the streets and is not hurt. Yet his answer only gave you more questions and you were still trying to understand why SeHuo had a key to this place, so you urged him to go on. “And what about the key?”

“It used to be his workplace until they had to close it,” he continued, “SeHuo kept a key because of no special reason, I guess. I think he just forgot to give it back, but then when he met m-me,” Jimin shook his head to keep his voice steady, glossy eyes giving away his gratitude, “when he met me and we became friends, he gave me a copy of the key so I could spend the night in here.

“Only the night, though. The old owner comes around sometimes to check if everything is alright and if no one broke in.” The cat laughed, but there was no humor behind the sound, voice lowering like he was trying to keep for himself what he says next. “He’s planning on selling it.”

You know why he said it the way he did.

For Jimin, it means he’ll be back to the streets.

But for you it means nothing really if he accepts to go home with you, so you don’t mention his last comment, something else bugging you instead.

“So… he was just hoping that you’d be here? All this time? He didn’t come to check if you were here?” you felt offended, but the cat reassured you quickly.

“I don’t know if he did, I wasn’t here,” he shrugged, “with everything that is happening right now I thought people would check this place — to see if they can find someone, so I went somewhere else. I’m not sure if anyone came here actually, but it was a huge risk to come back.”

You look even more confused than before, not thinking about anything before asking. “Then why did you?”

The cat stayed quiet for a while, pondering if it was the right thing to tell you. Then he decides it doesn’t really matter if he tells you when Jimin believes it’s already written over his face.

“Because I wanted to see you again,” the words came out shyly, but they held no uncertainty. “I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget about me so I came back,”

You raise your eyebrows, and Jimin’s head snap up to watch with fascination your pupils dilating while the sound of your heartbeat increases, tickling the shell of his ears.

“If you wanted to see me why didn’t you go to the store today?” you try to hold his gaze on you, but he turns his face towards the wall next to him, cheeks turning red.

You still can’t help yourself at how cute Jimin can be. Especially when he’s shy.

“Because I thought you already—“ he bite his lips. This he doesn’t want to tell you. He doesn’t want to hear you saying it is true, but he feels your hand tugging at his hoodie, so he goes on. “I thought you forgot about me already, I’m not really remarkable you know…”

“No, I don’t know…” you sound upset, so he folds his ears in shame for making you feel like this. But when you laugh in disbelief is when he looks at you again. “Honestly I think that even if I tried really hard to forget you I wouldn’t,”

Jimin blinks slowly, tail swishing behind his back without him knowing. He grasps one of your hands tightly against his before he remembers he was trying to avoid touching you — but you hold his hand back before he can escape and grasp it. He then brings it to press your palm against his chest. You feel his heartbeat against your skin, beating fast and rhythmically with yours. “You really think like that? Even when I look like this?” he asks, eyes big and glowing with hope.

You giggle, clutching the fabric of his hoodie again but to pull him closer to your face — you couldn’t care less if he’s clean or not. The tip of his nose touch yours, and he leans even closer so your foreheads are touching too, giving in to you and letting go of trying to stay away. “Why am I here, silly?”

“Why are you here?” he whispered to you, nuzzling your nose with courage he didn’t know he had. You hold your breath, feeling when his eyelashes touches your cheek. “Please tell me,”

You take your hand away, but don’t give him time to look rejected when you embrace him with both of your arms. He gasps with the sudden movement, but hide his face on your neck nonetheless, breathing in your scent and finding comfort in it.

“Because I was worried about you and I missed you,” you started and he held you a little tighter. “You are just the sweetest person I’ve ever met, and I’d be the stupidest one if I ever forgot about you. I shouldn’t have waited so long to tell you how important you are to me and how happy you makes me. You are unforgettable Jiminie, and you are so so good to this world I can’t believe I deserve to hold you like this.”

“You do!” he blurted, sighing in relief when you laughed again, but making a note to himself to remind you of this another day. How could you think you don’t deserve your own mate?

“Then let’s get out of here, okay?” you say, and he shakes his head to tell you he can’t. That’s when you say what he’s been longing to hear from you, probably since the day he first met you — when he walked into the convenience store and smelled your scent, then took in your pretty features when he felt brave enough to stare. “Let’s go home.”

A/N: one more chapter to go! Please give this one a lot of love! thank you!

[primasveraas-writing]

Finnpoe- Ascot Gavotte

500 Follower Celebration- 8. Ascot Gavotte

Rey makes her debut. "It's a date!" Poe declares happily.

Requested by: @dancinginlifeandpoetry

WORD COUNT: 2209

References to/implied sex below the cut

Finn wakes in Poe’s bed, which leaves something to be said about the nature of the two men’s rapidly evolving relationship. His shirt is tangled around his frame, and Finn finds a discarded sock between the sheets. Clearly, when they were undressing for the night, they gave little consideration to folding their slacks and going to bed in a tidy room. Finn cannot bring himself to mind.

The Colonel is grinning when he makes his appearance, his head popping out of the sheets somewhere around Finn’s waist. Poe leaves a trail of kisses down Finn’s jaw, all the way across his chest and to his hip bone, which makes Finn want for more, in all the ways that Poe  has so regularly evoked. But just when Finn’s eyes are fluttering shut, just when the first hints of a moan are escaping his lips, Poe separates from him, eyes twinkling.

“Ascot today, my good fellow!” Poe declares jovially. With that simple statement, he swings out of bed. Finn watches him retreat to the restroom, eyes feasting on all the glory of Poe’s naked frame, before he groans, flopping back on the soft mattress. He sinks into the pillows and blankets, wishing again that the night could have lasted for a while longer. All the same, he supposes, their experiment is not yet over. He and Poe will have a considerable amount of time to explore each other more in this capacity.

Finn wraps himself in a spare robe he finds hanging over a chair, gathering up his discarded clothes before slipping into the hallway. He crosses the distance into his room quiet and undetected, then enjoys a shower thick with soap and hot water to cleanse himself of the stench of sweat and sex off of him. While Finn rather likes the smell of Poe and the evidence of their night together, there’s no hope if his mother were to catch him with even a toe out of line.

“Ready, darling?” Poe asks Finn and Rey as they eat breakfast. Rey’s still in her robe, but several maids have started on her hair already. “Finn has got us our box, we’ll be meeting Ms. Organa, and we should all be in our best finery.” Poe’s voice is loud and commanding; Rey sulks at him and Finn sips reluctantly at his coffee. 

“We’ll be ready,” Rey says. Her enunciation on the “we’ll” has too much of an emphasis at the end, suggesting a deeper accent. Finn frowns. 

“It’s a date!” Poe beams. “Let’s leave within the hour.”

Finn throws on a pair of grey pants and a neat white shirt, barely remembering his hat and overcoat. Colonel Dameron rolls his eyes at Finn, but smiles and takes him by the arm. They wait for Rey in the parlor together, making mundane small talk about horses and guests at Ascot, as if those things matter, as if the pair hadn’t slept together the night before. But Finn notices their proximity with an aching pain boiling in his stomach, and when they’re left unattended, Finn leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to Poe’s lips. He can feel the Colonel smirking against him, something that only encourages Finn to deepen the kiss, and he shifts forwards, slipping his tongue into Poe’s mouth. Poe makes a sound that’s somewhere between amused and pleased, and Finn tucks his hands into the finely stitched pockets on the back of Poe’s pants.

“Have I told you,” Poe gasps when they separate, “how utterly handsome you look in that suit?”

Finn raises an eyebrow, but Poe isn’t done. “I do prefer you without it, however,” Poe clarifies, and he straightens his tie before heading into the hallway to call for Rey.

When they do manage to depart, Rey entirely done up and complaining about her itchy collar, they’re in danger of being late. Poe frets about this at first, but Finn rests his hand on Poe’s knee for a moment, and all troubles are forgotten. In fact, they’re so preoccupied with one another that they miss Rey’s unladylike eyeroll at their fawning. She’s wholeheartedly unamused with her teachers, who are still talking as if they’re in bed together, and she’s hot and stuffy, forced into a dress that pinches her in uncomfortable places.

Still, despite the discomfort and the nerves, Rey peers out the window at the patrons milling outside Ascot. Finn hears her muttering her vowels under her breath, and a moment before they depart the carriage, their trio clutches each other’s hands, wordless and hopeful. There’s silence, unbroken as they stare into each other’s eyes, then Poe gives his younger counterparts a wry smile and slips down onto the street, offering assistance to Rey and Finn both.

Rey gives a frustrated cry when her feet hit the ground, hoisting her skirts up past her ankles. Poe tuts disapprovingly at the amount of skin she reveals, though it’s not nearly as mean-spirited as the girl’s next words.

“Damn!” She swears furiously, grasping at her dress, which seems to have come loose somewhere. “Damn these pins.”

“Langauge, Rey,” Finn warns. He looks around at the guests streaming into the race track, but none pay them any mind. For now, at least, they’re safe.

Rey huffs at him, a strand of hair falling in her face. Finn reaches out to tuck it behind her ear, Poe watching him carefully and Rey glowering at him.

“Go ahead, dear,” Poe says quietly. “Get fixed up the best you can in the restroom. I’ll wait outside for you.” Poe turns to Finn. “I’ll go introduce myself to your mother, shall I?”

By the time Finn reaches Leia Organa, having been quite distracted by other patrons and their high, stilted accents, she’s waiting for him with no shortage of disapproval painted across her face.

But she allows his hug and kiss on the cheek. Her smile is still the warm and familiar one that Finn knows so well, given as she assesses him, a hand cupping his jaw.

“You look lovely,” Finn says, because she does. The dress is appropriately new, with long white sleeves draped in black lace. Her hat is wide-brimmed, adorned with a bow, and Finn knows that, as usual, his mother is the most fashionable person here.

“You changed your shirt,” she says approvingly, adjusting the bowtie positioned under his neck. 

“Yes, I-”

“And you’ve brought a flower girl to Ascot.”

“She-”

“Colonel Dameron has told me all about Rey. A bet on her success, really Finn? How could you be so irresponsible with her livelihood? And what will these people think of her?” Leia jerks her head towards a cluster of people perched delicately on their chairs, sipping tea.

“Mother,” Finn starts, and Leia raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I assure you, Rey is quite willing to partake in this experiment. She does stand the most to gain from this, after all. But she shouldn’t be scorned, even by this crowd of elitists-” Leia’s eyebrow creeps impossibly closer to her hairline- “so there should be no issue, even despite their judgmental nature.”

“I hope so,” Leia sighs, straightening her spine. “For both of your sakes.”

With yet another scathing look, Leia grasps Finn’s arm, the pair heading towards their reserved box. Upon their arrival, Leia flutters away, greeting her guests and striking up a conversation with a middle-aged woman wearing some outdated dress. Finn’s nose wrinkles in distance upon recognizing her.

“Is this your son, Ms. Organa?”

“Indeed,” Leia says carefully, eyes on Finn. “My pride and joy.”

Finn knows her words are a warning as much as they are a compliment. He musters up a smile before turning to scan the crowd frantically. Poe and Rey are nowhere in sight, and Finn can feel himself starting to sweat in the hot sun. Voices reach his ears faintly, but all Finn can do is hope that none are vying for his attention.

He hears Poe before he sees him. “Ms. Organa!” The Colonel cries happily, kissing her hand in a sweeping gesture. Leia smiles again, but says nothing, her eyes fixed firmly on Rey.

“How do you do?” She says, voice wavering. Her accent stays intact, and Finn nods to himself, approving.

Maybe it’s her dress, which adorns Rey in quite a flattering manner, or her total lack of reputation, but she’s drawn into the circle of Leia’s friends quickly, particularly noticed by Rose, the daughter of some Eynsford-Hill. Finn’s met her, and her mother has even tried to marry them off once, but Finn has little interest in making small talk with the other girl. Instead, he lets Rey ask after their health, and Poe approaches him, standing by his elbow to watch their protege.

“You did a fine job,” Poe murmurs. Finn smiles at him faintly, his eyes still fixed on Rey.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he admits. Finn wanted to say something more, but Poe sways slightly closer, and their hands brush.

Finn feels overly hot, as if the sun is pounding down with double the intensity that it had been just moments ago. Poe nods to Rey, and to Rose, who is leaning over the table with no shortage of interest in Rey’s words.

“We didn’t celebrate prematurely, did we?” Poe asks. Finn looks at him again, but Poe’s expression is unreadable.

“I certainly have no regrets,” Finn says quietly. “If anything, I think it would be due justice to celebrate again upon our return home, just to be adequately thorough.”

Poe grins at him, his usual ebullience finally shining through. “I was unsure, given your concern for Rey today.”

Finn feels like the air has been knocked from his lungs. “It’s just concern,” he says, voice rising an octave. “Did I not show you the depths of my affection last night?”

Poe finally looks away. “You showed me- quite a depth-” He’s blushing furiously. Finn can’t look at him either. “Your attention was simply diverted once we arrived- I thought that perhaps-”

“I can assure you my attention has only multiplied. It stays steadfast to you, and I would be more than willing to prove as much once-”

“Done her in?” An incredulous voice interrupts their conversation. “Done her in, do you say?”

“It’s the new small talk,” Finn says hastily, before Rey can add anything else. He fans himself with his hand. “To do a person in means to kill them.”

Leia shoots him and Poe a furious look, but the two men are already lost in each other’s gaze once more.

Rey is still talking, her words slow and deliberate. Rose laughs loudly at something she says, and Finn is distinctly aware of Poe smiling at him.

“I think we’ll have much to celebrate,” Poe says in a low voice. There are gasps behind him, and Finn wonders if he should intervene in the other conversation. “Even personal matters are something to be proud of.”

“Such as?”

“The exit from bachelorhood.”

“What are you sniggering at?” Rey says, voice loud and indigent. Rose sputters, her eyes wide. But she looks fascinated with Rey. “Have I said anything I oughtn’t?”

“Not at all, my dear.” Leia serves Rey a kind smile before shooting daggers at Finn, who gives Poe a shove forward.

Poe stifles a laugh but has the decency to compose himself under Leia’s stare.

“Well, I always say-”

“Do you think there might be time to place a bet before the next race?” Poe inserts, grabbing Rey’s arm. He cranes his neck to see the next round of horses emerging from the stables.

“Take mine!” Rose blurts, rising to her feet so quickly that her chair topples over. She presses a slip of paper into Rey’s hands. “Number seven. His name is Dover.”

Rey nods her head in thanks as Poe steers her away. Finn can’t fathom the words he needs to correct Rey, but the girl is spared from any scolding as Rose and Leia join their party at the fence.

“Let go of me!” Rey hisses, forcing her way to the front. Poe barely manages to follow her, dragging Finn behind him.

Leia appears at Finn’s side, and Finn sees Rose work her way next to Rey. The horses begin to run; Rey squints to see number 7. There’s excited murmurs, Rey’s voice climbing, beating out the rest of the din.

“Come on, Dover,” she gasps. Finn’s heart begins to speed up. Dover is falling behind. Rose fixes Rey with a quizzical look, as if she’s not sure what to think of the other woman.

“Come on, Dover,” Rey says again, and Leia grips Finn’s arm. Finn opens his mouth, ready to shush Rey, and Dover falls behind another place.

Then- Finn sees the heads turn first, the woman beside him fall into her husband’s arms. He feels his mother’s fingers wrapped around his arms and the deathly still air next to the race track. He knows that Poe’s mouth has dropped open; he’s gaping with all the other patrons in their vicinity. But it takes several seconds for Rey’s words to sink in.

“COME ON DOVER, MOVE YOUR BLOOMING ARSE!”

Finn smiles to himself faintly. This- a misstep to end all missteps- is quite a mess.

[whatamievendoingherern]

TALKING TO EXPLOSION BOY (BNHA)

Cat: Lil floof and if you squint, angst

Agender! Reader was nervous about their internship with Thirteen already, but throw in the sparky porcupine? Anxiety maxed out. But surprisingly, he just isn’t as explosive as usual. (Reader has a fire related quirk)

Y/N remembered when they first decided to try out for cross country.

It was the summer before 8th grade when they vowed to make themself into a person they could like. Their sister had given them a ride to the school, they’d retied their sneakers about fifteen times on the way, and they’d practically had a death grip on that poor plastic water bottle.

They’d been so nervous that they refused to get out of the car. They remembered knowing absolutely nobody on the team, feeling so socially inept because they hadn't talked to anybody all summer. It wasn't until their sister reassured them that they finally found themself unlocking the door.

That's what they thought internships were gonna be like.

But rather than the hellish experience their middle school self endured, it was quite different.

They chose to intern with Thirteen to learn how to use their quirk in rescue scenarios. Thirteen, who they’d recently learned went by xe/xyr pronouns, was a pretty nice person, who took their wall of awkwardness and formality into consideration.

Y/N was finally letting the wall drip down a bit, allowing Thirteen to see their real personality. And the acceptance was nice.

That's why they didn't really mind it when Thirteen said xe needed to drop by Best Jeanist's agency. Something to do with the author and plot lines.

So they followed Thirteen through the building, politely smiling at the passersby they happened to make eye contact with. The two stopped at a door in the building, pushing it open, and just like that feeling of finding someone you know in your home town, Y/N felt like they’d been smacked with frying pan.

Bakugo and Y/N made eye contact from both sides of the room, a silence as his hair sprung back to its normal state.

Oof.

If the rest of the Bakusqud were here, Y/N probably would've been able to sneak in a laugh under Mina, Sero, and Kaminari’s cackling, but alas that was not the case. And despite the self destructive ramblings of Y/N’s rather common mental breakdowns, they valued their life.

Best Jeanist sighed as though this weren't the first time this occurred, flicking his comb into his pocket. "Thirteen." He said in greeting. "What brings you here?"

"I just need to do some touch ups on the paperwork for the collab takedown we did last week. Turns out the villains quirk wasn't energy mutation." Xe replied, while Y/N suddenly begun to wish they had Hagakure's quirk instead as Bakugo’s eyes burned into their skull.

"Is that your intern?"

Uh oh.

"Yep," Thirteen said, pushing Y/N forward much to their dismay. "They’ve got quite the quirk."

Best Jeanist hummed in response, having been there in the stadium. He remembered sending them an invite to intern with him after the festival, but he supposed they were searching for something specific.

"You two are in the same class right?" Best Jeanist asked. Y/N stiffened as he acknowledged Bakugo's presence. Without waiting for a response, he carried on, "You two stay here. Thirteen, the reports in my office."

And despite every cell in their body yelling at the two to stay, the door closed behind the two leaving both Bakugo and Y/N in immediate discomfort.

Silence.

Y/N looked around the room at anything and everything except for Bakugo. They spotted a chair, the only other one in the room placed right across from the blonde porcupine.

With an internal groan, they shuffled over to the chair, sitting uncomfortably still as they pulled out their phone. They stared at the screen, pretending to be doing something while attempting to negotiate a ceasefire with the whatever deity above was listening.

Whatever I did to deserve this, I am so sorry. It'll never happen again, bro, just get me tf outta here rn before my soul skrrt skrrts from my body-

Oh no, now their nose was itchy. The temptation was there, but the risk of drawing attention was even greater. Were they gonna sneeze? Were there tissues in here? Jeez did hearts always beat so loudly? And what is up with the whole breathing thing? It sounds like there's gonna be a whole goddamn tornado-

"Hey. Depressed Flambé."

Y/N hesitantly looked up from their screen, wondering if they placed their funeral plans in an obvious enough location. Top left drawer of their dresser, beneath their will. Dang they forgot to write if they wanted red camellias or white camellias. Surely class 1-A would know they were a red camellias type of lad. And they had to change the song from "Thriller" to "E-Girls Are Ruining My Life", ya know, get with the times-

"I know you're avoiding me. Your damn phone isn't even on." Bakugo's brash voice said, and they suddenly felt like dropping an anvil on their head.

Y/N gave a smile that may as well have said, "I've been caught" and tucked the phone into their pockets where their hands could fidget out of view.

Silence.

Depressed Flambé, Y/N pondered.

They hadn't thought they had a nickname, they figured since they had barely interacted with him all year that they were in the clear.

Guess not.

Their thoughts and the room stayed radio silent for a bit before they hesitantly spoke up, "Trying out a new hair style?"

"Mention it to the rest of 1-A and I’ll kill you!" He barked defensively, huffing when he saw them flinch almost unnoticeably. "He won't let me patrol with him until I 'reform my appearance' or some bullshit like that."

Y/N nodded, though they didn't really see much difference. He was intimidating either way, one just made him look a little more idiotic. "Some bullshit sounds about right." Y/N replied, trying to let themself relax.

Bakugo seemed content with their response, and once again the two fell into silence. And just like a hand reaching out, they felt their voice wanting to come out, to keep talking, but maybe he didn't want to. Maybe it'd be better to take the chance and have no regrets later? But what if he just told them to shut up? They probably would never get over that. It was probably best if they-

"How's your internship?" Bakugo asked, clearly uncomfortable with asking the question. He wasn't even making eye contact which was supposed to be Y/N’s thing.

By the author's grace, was this the power of those behind the divine fourth wall?

"It's good!" Y/N said, a little too quickly for their liking.

Stupid social anxiety.

"Um, Thirteen's trying to teach me how to use my quirk in rescues." They added slowing their words, before their voice lowered into a murmur. "I just kind of wish I knew that they don't really teach fighting techniques."

"Well why don't you teach yourself?" He asked.

Why do you have such good hearing, they thought. "I mean I tried a while ago, but I wouldn’t know where to start."

"Is the phone you were using to avoid me just for show or can you actually use it? Just look some up or walk yourself to a library."

OML THIS IS A HISTORICAL MOMENT HE GOT THROUGH A SENTENCE WITHOUT CURSING OR INSULTING ANYBODY IM SO PROUD OF YOU, BRO, WE NEED TO CELEBRATE THIS MOMENTOUS OCCASION- "I guess that make sense." Y/N replied, sheepish but surprised.

They really thought it would be like that first day at cross country. Like everyone would be looking at them, judging them, ostracizing them. But it was all their head, just as it was then, just as it was now.

There was a gap of (you guessed it) silence, but this time it was less awkward, more...comfortable.

"It's too bad, Best Jeanist, isn't what you thought he would be." Y/N said.

He hummed in response.

"It seems more like he's trying to change you than train you." They thought aloud.

"It's annoying. I wish he'd finish this damn haircut, so I can skip to the fun part, and kick somebody’s ass."

Y/N snorted audibly. "If it's about getting it to stay, I think I can help."

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, which before may have had them thinking they were on his kill list, but now not so much. "You do hair?"

"I mean, I take care of mine almost every morning, and I'm pretty good with gel at this point so why not?" They shrugged.

"Hurry up then, I don't want to have to do this for any longer than I have to."

"Your hair is surprisingly soft."

"Shut up, Flambé!"

"Seriously, what conditioner do you use?"

"I WILL BLOW YOU UP RIGHT NOW!"

•••

"Thanks for stopping by Thirteen, it's been nice." Best Jeanist said, as the two stepped out of his office.

Thirteen replied. "No problem. See you around."

The two turned to the other duo and though neither visibly shown it, the surprise remained present.

"Did you do his hair?" Thirteen asked in mild confusion.

Best Jeanist was past the point of mere confusion, he was borderline baffled. "You fixed it?!"

Y/N tucked away a comb granted by the author, "Magic."

"Are we gonna patrol now or what?" Bakugo asked, a grin tugging at his lips.

Even though it looked borderline evil, Y/N was still pretty proud they made him smile. Even if he looked like he was about commit a homicide.

A/N Feel free to hit me up via anything if you have any requests. Whether it’s headcanons, scenarios, or different pronouns lemme know! I really like writing these and wanna make everybody feel ✨comfy✨💕

[rosewvlf]

‘Tis Folly to Be Wise

Pairing: Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler

Summary: The Doctor hides his feelings so well he doesn’t actually hide them at all. Or... Three Times Something Almost Probably (Not Really) Happened and One Time It Most Certainly Did

13.5k words - Jealousy, Pining, Mutual Pining, Meddling TARDIS, First Kiss, Love Confessions

Tagging @doctorroseprompts because, while I don’t remember what inspired this in the first place, I do know that I wrote it after browsing through your prompts hehe

Ao3

The first time it happened they were on a visit to the Powell estate. Rose was with Mickey and the pair had retreated farther into the flat to lounge in her room, leaving the Doctor to fend for himself in a conversation against her mum. 

In the face of Jackie’s relentless chatter and suspiciously in-depth gossip, the Doctor could actually feel himself physically deteriorating. His time sense was ridiculously revved-up, making every second that passed especially grating. He quietly mourned the loss of trillions of cells in his body, celebrated the birth of new ones, and contemplated how much more time it would take until the sheer domesticity of it all would force him into his next regeneration.

He was reaching the fragile, frayed edge of his patience when Jackie traded the inane chatter for something even worse: questions. Increasingly personal questions. Not insightful, curious questions about relevant and engaging things like the kind Rose usually provided during their adventures, but useless, baseless questions that weren’t really questions at all. Such as: “You wanna tell me what you get up to in that blue box of yours?” and “How alien are you really?” and “I know how you feel about my daughter, Doctor, I’m not blind—do you honestly think you can hide something like that from me?”

They were all questions that gave the Doctor embarrassingly red ears and a horrific need to run, and if he held on for any longer, he would just end up sprinting out of the flat at full speed. So, without answering a single question, he got up, striding from the living room at an impressive pace. Upon his disruption Jackie leapt from her perch on the couch and shot him one last inquiry—”Where are you going?!”—sounding very, very offended.

That one he had to answer. He could feel it in the ghost of a handprint on his cheek. 

Antsy, the Doctor just flashed her a grin and spit out an excuse about how he suddenly remembered having left the TARDIS oven on. He was leaving to get Rose because, for some odd reason, she was the only one able to turn it back off. And, oh, such a shame—TARDIS oven ordeals usually last a few days or so at the least. Imagine that!

“How convenient,” Jackie said, narrowing her eyes.

“You think?” the Doctor replied, feigning innocence. “Figured ‘inconvenient’ would’ve been the word.”

Jackie sighed, but she didn’t protest when he turned around for the second time. As he traveled the short distance over to Rose’s room, he could hear Jackie behind him, muttering something about rudeness and Martians from outer space. He didn’t comment because he knew she couldn’t possibly be talking about him.

The Doctor reached Rose’s room in no time and promptly burst through the door. It wasn’t locked, so he assumed he didn’t have anything to worry about.

He was wrong.

Laying on the bed, knees dangling off the edge, was Mickey, looking at the Doctor with a particularly harried and adequately startled expression. On top of him, straddling his sides with her hands wedged deep underneath his shirt, was Rose. She looked gorgeously flushed and her hair was slightly tousled, as if fresh from a physically demanding activity. Upon seeing the Doctor, the teasing smile that graced her lips slowly fell away.

He clearly caught them in the middle of something.

Distantly, the Doctor registered the odd sensation of his jaw dropping. Then his eyes locked on Rose’s and the atmosphere became super-charged, creating a catalyst that broke through their frozen states. The shock on Rose’s face rapidly dissolved into mortification.

“Doctor!” she cried, and her voice was panting, breathless. “We—me an’ Mickey, we were—”

The Doctor’s eyes fell from hers and rather obviously landed on her hands, still tucked underneath Mickey’s shirt and clutching at his bare skin. Rose followed the motion and blushed hotly, ripping her hands away before scooting back. Mickey, all of a sudden rather dazed, sat up, watching Rose and the Doctor with weary interest.

“It was just—” Rose began again, but the Doctor interrupted. This encounter was going places he really didn’t want it to.

“No, don’t. I… can… piece things together,” he said.

Her face went a shade almost as violently pink as her room. “It’s probably not what you think it is!”

“Never said anything, me. Sorry for, uh, interrupting.” The Doctor moved to close the door but Rose shot up from the bed and stopped him with a hand on the opposite doorknob and a very hard look.

“Really, Doctor. Not what you think, ” Rose swore.

Behind her, Mickey piped up, a smirk on his face. “Yeah, it might be worse.”

“No, don’t listen to him—”

“What? S’nothin’ to be ashamed of. And,” he added, biting his cheek to keep from laughing, “you looked like you were enjoyin’ it earlier.”

“Mickey!” she snapped. “Oh my god! Shut. It.”

He bristled. “Why? What do you care if he knows?”

“I don’t! I just—I just don’t like misunderstandings—”

“But why does this misunderstanding even matter?”

Rose’s grip on the doorknob tightened and she tore her eyes from Mickey to quickly glance at the Doctor. She opened her mouth to say something, but she hesitated for a second too long.

“Y’know what? Don’t answer that,” Mickey said, scowling. He flopped backwards onto the bed and stuck his arms behind his head, eyes fixed resolutely to the ceiling.

Rose deflated. “Mickey...” she sighed, trailing off.

The Doctor shifted in place. When he opened the door to Rose’s room, he had no intention of becoming the key to their little lover’s spat. It left him feeling itchy, with pinpricks of discomfort poking through his skin like little goosebumps. He placed a hand on Rose’s shoulder and leant in. 

“I’ll leave you two alone,” he said. Rose reacted quickly, and, just as he was pulling away, she grabbed a fistfull of his leather jacket.

“Come off it. You’re not leaving until you tell me what you came in here for.”

“Not important, sorry. Just pretend I was never here.”

“Too late for that,” Rose sighed. “You ever hear of knocking?”

The Doctor spared a glance in Mickey’s direction. “Didn’t think it would be necessary.”

“A young couple shut up all cozy in a bedroom, Doctor?” Mickey asked, piping up again. He was still staring at the ceiling. “Thought you were some sorta genius.”

Rose let out a groan and buried her face in her hands. The Doctor opened his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly instead. Sensing the bitter undercurrent in Mickey’s tone, something equally bitter sparked up inside him. He decided he really didn’t want to hear any more of this.

“Think I’ll leave you two alone,” he said. Rose quickly lifted her head. She moved to stop him from leaving again, but the Doctor spoke before she could protest. “Just… Get back to whatever it was you two were doing. I’ll wait in the TARDIS.”

Concern creased her brow, concern that the Doctor immediately misinterpreted. He told her not to worry. He could wait. “Take your time,” he said. Then he paused, glancing at Mickey for the slightest second. “Though, with a bloke like him… Might not need it,” he added, under his breath. 

Rose must have heard him. Her eyes widened and, just for a second, her grip on the door fell slack.

Later, the Doctor ignored Jackie’s questioning look when he stalked out of the flat without Rose in tow and ignored, much less successfully, his own churning thoughts. To keep from thinking about Rose, her idiot boyfriend, and why he, for some reason, loathed the thought of them in her bedroom alone, he settled in to tinker with the TARDIS.

He only had to wait a little over seven minutes before she met him in the console room, looking not the slightest bit pleased. 

“Finished already?” he asked, weak against that childish part of him. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, stuff it,” she sighed, plopping onto the jump seat. 

Guess he was right.

The second time it happened they were fresh from Van Statten’s bunker and accompanied by a new, rather pretty, guest. Adam was what the Doctor would consider the presumptuous child prodigy type: steeped in supposedly above average intelligence and unaware of his own limited scope of the universe. He was cocksure, convinced in his own judgement. He wasn’t someone the Doctor would’ve personally chosen to serve as a companion, but he relented because Rose took an interest in him.

Oh, an interest… There was definitely some sort of subtext in that. The Doctor could see it in the way they drifted coyly around each other, smiling, voices low. He knew it. But everyone was tired and the adventure was over, so he decided to ignore it. It wasn’t his business and he really wasn’t in the mood to antagonize Rose’s new boyfriend. Yet.

The Doctor was more concerned about the Dalek; about what it did to him and what he almost did in return. Something in him shifted during and after the war. It changed him and while he, at least, acknowledged that, he didn’t notice how much he’d changed or precisely what he changed into until the Dalek escaped. He became rather hopeless—almost akin to a monster—in his loneliness and grief… Broken by the loss of his people, he was wrathful and unforgiving. Vengeful. Militaristic, in a way. He loathed guns and what they represented in every life he led, yet there he had been: ready to fire even as his precious companion defiantly stood her ground. 

Rose saved him. She did the impossible: she showed a Dalek compassion, commanded it, and lived.

He risked the entire universe for her.

Back in the TARDIS, the Doctor figured that the best, and soonest, way to start shocking Adam off of his high horse was to let Rose give him a tour. With a dimensionally transcendental, absolutely beautiful, thoroughly marvellous time ship like his? Surely, Adam stood no chance. The boy was about to have his horizons broadened.

Rose disappeared down the corridors with Adam following dazedly behind, and once the Doctor could no longer hear their voices, he made his way to his own quarters. He hadn’t slept in weeks, really, and despite his best efforts his fatigue was finally catching up with him. He was overdue for a rest.

The Doctor managed to shed his leather jacket and remove his jumper before he heard conversation floating through the hallway and seeping into his room. Confused, he briefly consulted his knowledge of the TARDIS’s current layout. It didn’t make sense; his room was nowhere near any of the areas Rose had in mind for the tour. He should have been spared from their flirting for at least a few more hours. 

That meant Rose either deviated from her plans or… or the TARDIS did some remodeling.

The voices in the hallway suddenly shifted in tone. They sounded lower, as if spoken in greater proximity to each other, and more… urgent. The Doctor felt himself tense. Adam’s voice was a murmur, placating, unintelligible yet insistent. Rose’s voice was harried, almost strained, bordering on breathless.

Were they really…? Outside the Doctor’s own room?

Yeah, no.

The Doctor quickly slipped his jumper back on and opened his door.

“Oi, you two, shouldn’t you be—“ he began, stepping out, but then his voice died as he took in the sight before him.

Rose stood braced against one of the coral pillars lining the halls of the TARDIS, a fresh, pink blush tinting her cheeks. In front of her, torso inches from her own, stood Adam, one hand on her hip and the other beside her head, bearing his weight upon the coral. Her own hands were against his chest, the position undeniably intimate.

Adam hadn’t noticed the Doctor’s entrance, even as intrusive as it was, so the Time Lord got to witness the young man’s hand snake higher up her torso, watch as he leaned in to whisper in Rose’s ear. His whisper made her shiver, his lips ghosting over her skin. The Doctor’s hearts grew cold.

Oblivious Adam. Foolish, arrogant, oblivious Adam.

It was Rose who noticed him first. As soon as she caught sight of the Doctor, surprise colored her cheeks a deeper red and she reflexively pushed Adam away, causing him to stumble off her with a comical oof and a confused look. Adam turned to follow Rose’s eyes and paled.

“D-Doctor, what’re—wasn’t your room…“ Rose stammered.

“No, ‘fraid not. It’s right here, apparently. Huh, fancy that,” he said, punctuating the statement with an obviously faked intrigued perusal of his surroundings. “And you two were… canoodling right in front of it. Great choice. Nothin’ short of amazing, that,” the Doctor frowned. “I could hear you right through the door. Wasn’t gonna say anything, me, but I was gettin’ ready for bed.”

“I—I’m sorry—“ Adam piped up, genuinely remorseful, but the Doctor waved him away.

The Doctor’s words were casual and reassuring, but his face looked… How would one describe it? Like the subdued sky before a rainstorm. A countenance as confounding and contradictory as the man himself. 

“Oh, don’t worry! What am I, her keeper? Don’t let this daft old fool stop you. Do whatever you two want, but do it somewhere else,” he said. He intoned the last line with only an ounce more gravity than his usual amiable lilt, but Rose, clever and perceptive as always, caught it regardless. She bristled.

It must’ve been the fatigue, the Doctor thought. It must’ve been the ordeal with the Dalek, because he was having a harder time than usual accepting her galavanting off with some pretty boy tonight. It must’ve been her bravery, glistening golden in her eyes when she stood up to him earlier. It must’ve been the lingering memory of her arms around him, deep down in that bunker, soothing the bitter pain of the entire encounter, that kept him from maintaining that breezy indifference of his.

Did Rose see it? That blossoming, unwarranted jealousy of his? Could she see that careful shade of green in his eyes?

It must’ve been ugly.

Noticing Rose’s tense stance, the Doctor rapidly slapped a smile on his face and upped the ante on his façade.

“Well, sorry for ruining the mood. Selfish, me. How about you two get on your way—“ he gently nudged both of them forward with one hand each on either of their backs—“and I can get a couple hours rest. Sound good?”

Rose found her voice. “Doctor, wait, listen! I wasn’t gonna let Adam—“

Adam shot her a hurt look, and Rose faltered, the words dying upon her lips. The Doctor witnessed her momentary lapse and interpreted it as embarrassment.

“No need to be shy, Rose. You, Aiden, what’re you looking so down for? Don’t need explainin’ to, me, so go jaunting off all you like,” he beamed. 

He’d gotten the guy’s name wrong on purpose. 

Adam’s frown deepened and protests lay dogpiled upon Rose’s lips, but the Doctor pulled away, having shooed them far enough. He was quick to get rid of them, quick to hide, but he paused beside his bedroom door, one hand on the door knob.

When Rose turned around, perhaps to stop him once more, the Doctor flashed her a small smile. Exhaustion muted the blue of his eyes. 

“Good night, Rose,” he said. 

Her love life was none of his business, after all.

The third time it happened, Jack had been aboard for more than a few days.

Jack. Now, Jack was certainly something. 

He managed to charm Rose, which wouldn’t be too terribly strange since he was most definitely her type, but then he managed to charm the Doctor too, and he definitely wasn’t his type. Jack Harkness, although very unconventional and by all means someone the Doctor would’ve gladly initially brushed off, proved himself to be a good man, a strong ally, and downright clever as well. Irritatingly flirtatious habits aside, he was a fantastic companion and a good friend.

He was the kind of man the Doctor knew would make Rose perfectly happy, and protect her, too. Give her that bit of adventure her free spirit craved while still keeping her safe. He was someone who suited her more than some barmy nine hundred year old alien, at least.

So it shouldn’t have hit him as hard as it did when he walked into them one rare, lazy Earth-hour afternoon, lounging in the media room. 

It wasn’t like all the other times he’d walked in on Rose with one of her little human boyfriends. Those instances were dripping with hints of sexual frustration and dipped in improper quantities of proximity; they were clear indications of youth, textbook examples of what the Time Lords would’ve considered an aspect of their primitive, human natures. No, this… It was sweet. Singular in its intimacy, almost. Special. 

Rose was sitting on the sofa, adorned only in fuzzy, animal-print pajama bottoms and a comfy old t-shirt. Her hair was clipped up carelessly in a low bun, and, right along with her, stretched leisurely across the expanse of their seat, was Jack, dressed down in his own borrowed jimjams. His head was cushioned in her lap and he smiled up at her, grinning salaciously. Undoubtedly, he was enticing her with another crude joke or compliment, and it must’ve been working because she was laughing her usual beautiful, brilliant laughter. She ran her hands through his hair with one hand as she jokingly, lightly, smacked his arm with the other. In front of them, on the TARDIS’s telly, some cheesy alien romcom from the seventy-sixth century tried its best to put on a show, only to be met with deaf ears. Caught up in each other, they hardly paid attention to it.

They only managed to snap out of it when the Doctor plopped himself on the armchair next to them. 

They both greeted him warmly, smiles on their faces. The Doctor’s chest ached at their happiness, equal parts affection and melancholy, and he greeted them back. They looked like a pretty picture he shouldn’t have disturbed. Walking in the room, he was tempted to turn around, to pretend he didn’t see a thing, but at the same time, he wanted to stick himself right in. Wanted the image to shatter as much as he wanted it framed.

“Having fun, then?” he teased.

“You’re finally here,” Rose enthused. “Jack, tell the Doctor what you just told me. The story! C’mon!” she poked his cheek imploringly, and Jack chuckled, sitting up.

“Anything for you, Rosie,” Jack winked, before turning to face the Doctor and motioning him to lean closer. “This one’s a wild one, Doc, you sure you can take it?”

The Doctor sniffed, humorously feigning indignance. “You’re asking me?”

“Hey, playing it safe, y’know? Wouldn’t wanna arouse your fragile sensibilities,” Jack grinned.

Rose cut in. “You? Playin’ it safe? Jack, you’re almost as bad as the Doctor,” she chuckled. “Playin’ it safe!”

“Oi! What d’you mean as bad as me?”

Rose offered the slighted Time Lord a saucy grin as his only answer before she nudged Jack with her elbow. “Just do like you always do and dive right into it, Jack.”

“My, oh my, Doc, if I didn’t know any better I’d say our Rose is feeling pretty cheeky today.”

She dropped her head on Jack’s shoulder, chuckling. “‘M just happy, that’s all. Still laughin’ from when you told me,” Rose said. She peeked out, her cheek resting on the fabric of Jack’s shirt. “An’ excited,” she smiled, “to spend the time in together like normal mates for once.”

“We spend every day together,” the Doctor said, puzzled. He envied Jack for a moment, having Rose cling to him so casually, so comfortably. In his armchair, the Doctor was too far to effortlessly reach.

Rose lifted her head from Jack’s shoulder and shook it. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Doctor, runnin’ from near-death experiences every waking hour and collapsing on the grating when we’re back in the TARDIS is fun and all, but… Like, yeah, it’s gorgeous, the running, keeps me fit—“

“Very fit,” Jack nodded sagely, and Rose smacked him.

“—but sometimes I just wanna sit with you in front of the telly, yeah? Talkin’ and just… Enjoyin’ each others’ presence and all.”

The Doctor didn’t know what to say, so he defaulted to a more automatic response. “Sounds awfully domestic to me,” he said.

Rose scoffed, waving him away. “Oh, I just knew you’d say that,” she sighed. She didn’t seem all that upset, but it was clear that she bore just a hint of disappointment. “You get what I’m sayin’ though, don’t you, Jack?”

“Crystal clear, sweetheart,” Jack said. “Some R&R: rest and recuperation.”

“Yep,” Rose nodded.

“Humans,” the Doctor snorted, starting to feel a bit rejected. “Don’t you lot get plenty of ‘R&R’ every night? Sleepin’ half of your lives away, you are.”

“Rest and recreation, rather,” Jack amended.

“You never had a weekend in, Doctor?” Rose asked. “Where you just muck about in the TARDIS for a day or two?”

The Doctor frowned. Was this some sort of roundabout method of telling him they were tired? That they wanted to go back home? But, no, that couldn’t have been it. They enjoyed themselves on his ship, he knew that much. 

“Why stay in when there’s an entire universe out there?” 

“Well…” Rose trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her argument.

The Doctor sighed. “How’s this, then? I know a few resort planets. Popular hotspots in each of their galaxies, perfect for a vacation, and I can get us reservations. No problem. If you want to be layabouts, might as well lounge in a place worth remembering.”

Jack looked intrigued at the prospect, and one look told the Doctor that he’d won the man over. However, while Rose looked tempted, she bit her lip, still appearing uncertain. 

“The TARDIS is a place worth rememberin’, Doctor,” she said.

The Doctor paused, eyes widening. “That’s—That’s not… She is. You’re right; unforgettable, my TARDIS, but… Oh, you know what I mean, Rose.” 

Accidentally insulting his own precious timeship was the last thing he was trying to do. Give it to Rose Tyler, always seeing and hearing what he couldn’t. Even when it came out of his own mouth. 

Still, Rose wasn’t satisfied. “Yeah, I get what you mean, but you don’t get what I mean. Time alone. Does that sound familiar?” She sighed again, leaning into Jack’s side. In response, however unconsciously, Jack draped a lazy arm over Rose’s shoulder. “Quality time together? Without all those distracting disasters the universe likes to throw at us for some reason?”

The Doctor eyed their intimate positions and felt something rotten rise within him once again. An unsightly sensation, growing increasingly familiar as the days grew by, cut into his skin from the inside out like small, prickly thorns. The Doctor never dared to let that weed of an emotion grow, never let it encompass the burnt, barren garden of his hearts, but it came close every time. Grown from the tiniest, most inconsequential seeds, the Doctor could only feel shame in their propensity to take root. Jack’s arm, draped so casually over Rose’s shoulder, almost like it belonged, and Rose, leaning into him with such picturesque comfort, provided the perfect nutrients for an ugly, bitter fruit.

It struck the Doctor then, that perhaps Rose was arguing for all of this as a means of requesting, as politely and discreetly as she could, the Doctor’s aid. Some alone time with the Time Agent. Some quality time with the man she loved, hidden away within the TARDIS’s winding corridors. Away from uncomfortable alien eyes.

The thought sharpened the thorns to a fine tapered point. It cut. It bled.

Yet it had no right to.

The Doctor nodded as if he finally understood and gently smiled. An idea came to light in his mind. “Of course it sounds familiar, Rose.”

Rose straightened, hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely! In fact—” the Doctor’s tone shifted, like he was a stereotypical salesman offering an irresistible deal—”why don’t we spend the next forty-eight hours right here? A weekend in. I’ll keep the TARDIS parked in the Vortex for just a little while longer,” he said.

“That’s great!” Rose beamed, bright and blinding.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about, Doc!” Jack laughed. “I knew you’d get it.”

Rose scooted back, patting the unoccupied side of the sofa, free of Jack’s sprawled form. “C’mon, sit here,” she said, “let’s watch some trashy intergalactic telly.” Her grin was teasing and inviting, with a bit of her tongue poking through her teeth, and the Doctor almost wavered from his newfound resolution.

Ah, but Jack’s arm was still around her. His fingers tapped a silent rhythm upon her shoulder, following the upbeat pomp of the ignored romcom’s ending theme song. A nice reminder. The Doctor knew better than to deprive his golden girl of her desires.

“‘Fraid not, Rose. Maybe next time,” he said. 

Her smile faltered. “Oh?”

“Yep, but don’t you worry. Just remembered I had a couple errands to run ‘round here for the ol’ girl.”

“Really?” Jack asked, sounding… skeptical. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Well, the opportunity just never presented itself,” the Doctor said. “Now, I’ll just be on my way…“ He got up from his armchair to start making his way to the doors, but paused when he saw Rose and Jack rising too. He admonished them with a few stern tut’s. “Oh, sit down. I can handle them myself.”

“If they’re repairs, I can help—” Jack offered, but the Doctor shut him down.

“Been doing repairs myself for centuries, thanks. More than capable, me.”

“But—”

“Just keep cuddlin’ on the couch,” the Doctor chuckled, pushing them both back down with a hand on their shoulders. “I won’t be long. I’ll plonk this old bum down right next to you soon as I’m done.”

Rose hesitated. The Doctor could practically feel her suspicion himself, hear the uncertainty flickering through her mind. Luckily, it subsided.

“Alright…” she acquiesced. “Finish up soon, ‘kay? If you take too long, I’m makin’ you watch one of mum’s soaps.”

The Doctor shuddered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With one last word of parting, the Doctor waved good-naturedly and disappeared from the media room. He left the two newfound lovebirds perched on the couch, twin looks of unease plastered on their faces, but now… with plenty of time alone.

 The Doctor lied through his teeth. 

He had no plans of joining them on the sofa that twenty-four hours, or the next. He set an internal alarm, and for almost two full Earth days he was nowhere to be seen.

The Doctor cursed as he reached for a wrench and found it, once again, missing. Poking his head up from underneath one of the TARDIS’s supplementary heating systems (the one devoted, specifically, to maintaining and regulating the temperature of the heat-sensitive storage rooms and… the hot tubs, actually), he caught sight of it several meters away, perched precariously on the edge of an open grate. It looked ready to tip into the wiring below upon the slightest vibration.

This was the fifth time it’s gotten displaced, and it took a bit of searching to find it after every disappearance.

“Oh, let it go, will you?” the Doctor sighed, speaking to no one in particular. 

Save the very air around him, that is. 

The TARDIS was displeased with his actions lately, it seemed, and she displayed that displeasure readily, manipulating his entire environment. The lights overhead flickered for a moment before a sense of reproach eased into his mind. An obvious rejection.

A sentient, powerful, living remnant of his species’ most profound technological and scientific advancements… Fixated on passive-aggressive pranks.

“Unbelievable!” he muttered, carefully rescuing his wrench.

Forty hours have passed since the Doctor declared their little weekend in the Vortex, and he’d managed to avoid crossing paths with his two companions the entire time. Oh, it wasn’t easy. Certainly not. Especially since the TARDIS seemed particularly dead-set on thwarting his considerate efforts, rearranging her layout with a sadistic, labyrinthine intensity undoubtedly intended to purposefully confuse him. Tear away familiarity with his own ship, after all, and he’d be just as good as any fresh face that wanders aboard. It was a handicap, essentially. 

The TARDIS must’ve been utilizing enormous quantities of energy just to juggle him into one of his companion's arms. Rose the most often. But the Doctor was clever. The smartest higher-order thinker any side of any galaxy. He made do, of course.

He just didn’t expect to have to fight his own ship.

Suddenly, the Doctor startled. He heard footsteps thudding in the distance, somewhere down the left-most corridor.

Before everything, this room used to be a part of the lesser-traveled sections on his beloved ship. One of the sections visited for the occasional maintenance check at most, left in the TARDIS’s own care for the majority of the time. Now, it, and sections like it, experienced an exponential increase in foot traffic as they merged pathways with areas more suited to daily living.

The Doctor could hear familiar voices filtering in through the walls. Voices he missed a lot, as dull as the sentiment might’ve been.

However, he promised forty-eight hours. It was only a quarter past the fortieth and that simply would not do. He stepped forward, intent on escaping through the door farthest from them, but as his right foot met the grating… It sunk. The floor was loose beneath his foot and he came crashing forward, half of his lower body dumped straight into the circuitry beneath.

There was no way this wasn’t completely intentional. The Doctor cursed, and when he realize he couldn’t move his leg, tangled so deliberately as it was in metal and wires, he sent a strongly-worded, less-than-polite telepathic thank you in the TARDIS’s direction.

The lights merely flickered once again in response.

His fall wasn’t quiet. The voices of his companions, already steadily growing louder, responded to the raucous racket of his crash with excitement, and their even steps dissolved into heavy footfalls running to meet him.

Hands frantically plunging through every leather pocket for his sonic, the Doctor tried in vain to shake his leg free, only serving to further entangle him in his ship’s trap. One poorly direction’d shimmy had the Doctor wobbling, and his sonic screwdriver tumbled out of his grasp, past the depths encasing his leg, and down, deep into the unknown.

Fantastic.

Absolutely fantastic.

 “What do you have to say for yourself?” Rose admonished. With her hands on her hips, standing over him, her brows drawn in smoldering fury, she looked like a spitting image of her mother.

The Doctor only pursed his lips, looking away. He sat resolutely, with a rather stubborn, prideful air about him—not unlike the kind he’d usually adopt when wrongfully imprisoned—and his hands were tied securely behind his back. His sonic was nowhere in sight.

After Rose and Jack caught him with his metaphorical pants down, they encircled him like hawks. Both of his companions made sure to free him, but not without first ensuring his complete transfer into a different trap entirely; it wouldn’t suit all their hard work prior, searching for him with such resolute vigor, to have him escape as soon as they found him, after all. So they tied him up and led him into the next room over.

Ironically, it turned out to be the media room. The same place he’d left them before.

They plopped him down onto the sofa and Rose took charge, ignoring his indignant fussing.

“C’mon, then! Your excuse?”

He mumbled something unintelligible. From beside her, Jack shot the Doctor a look of pity yet carefully maintained his distance, seemingly content to just watch the events unfold.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that,” Rose said, anything but apologetic. She leaned forward, stern and unyielding. Strong woman, she was, Rose Tyler. Precisely the characteristic that, although now turned against him, had charmed the Doctor in the first place. When he didn’t repeat himself, she huffed. 

“I swear to God, Doctor, if you don’t start talkin’ I’m keeping you here and puttin’ my mum on the phone—”

The Doctor’s head snapped forward, eyes widening in terror. “No—”

“—An’ tellin’ her I’m pregnant.”

“No!” the Doctor gasped.

Rose pulled back, reaching into her jeans pocket to slip out her mobile. She flipped it open, staring at the screen in careful consideration before meeting the Doctor’s eyes. The message was clear. She was serious.

And Jackie was on speed dial.

“I’ll talk, I’ll talk, just—Rose, please,” the Doctor pleaded. Rassilon, the horror. 

“Please what?” she murmured, impassive. Her thumb toyed with a key on her mobile.

“I… I…”

“You, you…?”

“I was just tryin’ to help,” he finally managed.

“Help? That’s what you thought this was?” Rose asked, incredulous. “Help with what, Doctor? Abandoning us for two entire days—“

“Forty and a half hours,” the Doctor mumbled. She shot him a glare and he clamped his mouth back shut.

“Abandoning us for forty and a half hours,” she repeated, making it clear the distinction did not matter in the slightest, “after promising us a weekend together?”

“You got one, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, right good weekend that was. Leavin’ us as soon as it started, talking ‘bout some stinkin’ errands.” She slipped her phone back in her pocket and a fraction of the Doctor’s tensity alleviated. “What errands? Errands my arse! You’ve just been hiding!”

“I had some!” the Doctor said, defensive. “I did!”

“Well, that’s what we believed at first too. Then, we finished five movies and nature called. Imagine my surprise when I couldn’t find the loo,” Rose said.

From behind them, Jack sighed, nodding. Rose was breaching a crucial topic, it seemed, and he looked rather harried too.

She continued: “I had to hold it for another hour, Doctor, until I finally found it! An hour of nothin’ but searching with my bladder half bursting! Stumbled into the library at least ten times before I even so much as hallucinated a toilet!”

The Doctor cringed. That did, indeed, sound bad.

“Couldn’t even make it bad to the media room after I was done, either. Got stuck in a circuit through the kitchen, Jack’s bedroom, and the wardrobe. God, Doctor, what’ve you been doing?”

Incensed, and obliged to defend himself, the Doctor straightened. “Oi, a little quick on the call, aren’t you? I’m innocent. Not much for interior design, me.”

“I’d say it was pretty suspicious that the TARDIS suddenly turns herself into a maze as soon as you run off, Doc,” Jack cut in.

“Definitely,” Rose agreed. She met the Doctor’s guileless gaze with resolute eyes. “You’re always harpin’ on, sayin’ the TARDIS is alive. If you didn’t do it directly, then you must’ve pissed her off, yeah?”

The Doctor froze. She was right on the ball with that one. Ever perceptive, his Rose, and usually, he’d be praising her for it. Now, however, he just felt incriminated.

“Might’ve done,” he murmured, looking away.

“I knew it!” Rose cried. Jack stepped closer to stand next to Rose, patting her on the back.  She sighed, her frustration visibly fading with the slump of her shoulders.

“How’d you do it?” Jack asked.

“What?”

Jack grinned, humor a-twinkle in his eyes. “How’d you piss off an entire ship? Pretty impressive, I’ll admit. Couldn’t have done it even if I tried. Okay, okay, I’ve managed the people in it, but never the ship itself, and that’s besides the point.”

“I didn’t intend to.”

“You know what they say: the road to hell…” Jack trailed off, shrugging.

The Doctor recognized the proverb. Good intentions… Well.

With reluctance, the Doctor at last gave in. He shifted in his restraints.

“The TARDIS was trying to lead me back to you,” he said.

“Lead you back…? So you were hidin’ from us?” Rose asked. Questions contorted her brow. “What for?”

Jack’s expression was very much the same. “If you didn’t want to watch TV, Doc, we were open to suggestions.”

“Never did like sittin’ front o’the telly, come to think of it. But that’s not what I kept away for.” The Doctor’s ears tinted a slight shade of pink. “Figured you two wanted to be alone. ‘Quality time’ you said, Rose. Thought I’d run off, get some other stuff done in the meantime. The TARDIS didn’t take to it, kept turnin’ me around.”

Jack looked a bit odd, boasting an image akin to a mixture of ‘stunned’ and ‘irrevocably confused’. “Well, no wonder!” he exclaimed.

“What the hell would make you think we wanted to avoid you?” Rose asked, frustration returning. “I said ‘quality time together’, Doctor! Not ‘quality time chasing a madman through some barmy maze’!”

The Doctor sniffed, uncomfortable. If the TARDIS hadn’t thought to meddle, then they would’ve had their happily ever after, he would get some peace, and everything would’ve been hunky dory. Neither of them would’ve noticed his lists of errands to do really wasn’t all that long.

“I know that,” he groused. “I just thought ‘together’ meant ‘together without me’.”

“How?!”

Rose looked gobsmacked. It was as if, for once, the Doctor actually managed to reach absurd enough heights of alienness that his actions were completely irreconcilable in her human eyes. Their last action prior to his departure was, after all, to invite him to sit next to them. Have a few laughs. It didn’t make sense. They must’ve been wondering: what could possibly have led to such a drastic disparity in thought?

“Rose…” the Doctor sighed, “do you know what I saw when I walked into the room that day?”

She blinked in suspicion. “No.”

He smiled, almost rueful. “You and Jack, of course. Oh, it was a lovely sight. A perfect pair you two make, right pretty, too.”

Neither of them said a thing. The Doctor nodded toward Jack. His voice was bright, but an odd sort of tension had grown in the air. 

“Head on her lap! Adorable. And combin’ her fingers through your fringe! Wasn’t half diabetic at the sight, really. Almost had to stop by the infirmary, me.”

“Doctor, that was just—”

“Wasn’t the first time I walked into anything either, but this time was different. Made me realize that I might’ve messed somethin’ up. Maybe this time it was serious.”

Jack listened in disbelief. “‘Serious’?” he echoed.

“Point is, Rose,” the Doctor shifted his gaze, locking eyes with her. “I wanted to make it up to you, as discreetly as I could. For the social life I’ve scared away. For the love I hadn’t let you feel.”

“What…?” she whispered.

He offered a wry smile. “Always ruinin’ the mood, me. Never did let you get a proper date in.”

“Hold on, so you thought… Me an’ Jack… You thought I was askin’ for date night with Jack?”

“Aw, Rosie, you don’t have to make it sound so unappealing,” Jack pouted, but Rose paid him no mind.

The Doctor’s brows furrowed. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes! Very!” Rose huffed, astounded by the Doctor’s absurdity. “You—I can’t believe—”

She looked about ready to die of exasperation. But then she paused for a moment and let out a heavy, steady breath before speaking.

“Doctor, we’re just good mates. There’s nothin’ going on.”

The Doctor’s doubt was practically inscribed upon his face.

“I wouldn’t care if there was,” he lied, aiming for reassuring but not quite cutting it.

He liked to think he figured Rose out well enough, liked to believe he understood her. This youthful little human who stood so steadily before him, both complex and straightforward, paradoxically contrary yet so precisely expectable, was already etched firmly into both of the Doctor’s hearts. He followed her through her predictable routines, witnessed in pride her many surprises. However recent their acquaintance might be in the grand scheme of the universe, he knew her. He hoped he knew her. 

And Jack was perfect for her. Swept her off her feet, quite literally. To her, Jack was an improved echo of the Doctor’s visage, coupled with the dating and the dancing, and made complete with that suave, seductive style.

From a purely objective standpoint, she should have been thoroughly, irredeemably charmed.

Rose frowned at the Doctor’s skepticism, and something seemed to occur to her.

“You mentioned somethin’—somethin’ about having walked into things before. D’you mean that time with Mickey? An’ Adam?”

The Doctor scoffed despite himself, not keen on remembering. “The two idiots. Ignorance is bliss.”

Hearing him and flushing red, Rose decided she had enough. 

She stepped forward and took him soundly by the head, a hand framing either of his cheeks. It caught both the Doctor and Jack off-guard. When the Doctor grunted in surprise, she quickly clapped a hand over his mouth to shush him. “Now, listen to—yeah, yeah, uncomfy, you are, I know. But listen to me, Doctor. You run away every time I try to explain, so I—“

The Doctor shook his head in defiance.

“Yeah, you do!” she said, capturing him within her gaze. Her eyes, a deep brown that drowned him in rich wildflower honey, compelled him into rapt focus faster than any twisting nebula. “You run like—like you don’t wanna listen, like it’s stupid ape stuff, but you have to, ‘cause nothing is what you’re thinkin’ it is!”

He glowered, at a sudden loss, before indicating her to release his mouth. She didn’t budge.

“Swear you’ll hear me out?”

He tried his best to nod, his lips pressed into a frown beneath her palm. 

“Promise?”

He nodded once more. With his hands tied behind him and lodged between the sofa and his back,  he knew they couldn’t see him cross his fingers. A childish display of his defiance. 

However, mid-finger cross, he felt something odd about the ropes restraining him. 

Hold on… Is that…?  

Rose looked doubtful, so the Doctor eased the crease in his brow and tried for pleading. If what he felt upon the ropes was what he thought it was, he needed her to let go of him. 

He looked her in the eyes, and her expression softened. It worked. 

“Alright,” Rose said. She let him go and plopped beside him on the sofa. 

However, when she turned back to face him, she was greeted with a terrible surprise: the Doctor sat right there, flexing his wrists. Unbound. 

“How?!”

“Been around, learned a few tricks,” the Doctor answered simply, avoiding her offended gaze with a shrug of his shoulders. He didn’t break his nodded promise because he crossed his fingers, after all. “Helps that you two used a simple knot, though I didn’t realize until now. Fifty-first century marauder’s knot. Tricky little thing; only looks impressive, not the best for keepin’ prisoners.” He bent down to untie his ankles. 

Rose shot Jack an accusatory glare. He held up both his hands, all innocence.

“Hey, I didn’t think we were going to keep him long. Not seriously. Plus,” Jack added, “I like the marauder’s. It’s convenient and visually appealing.”

Rose pressed the bridge of her nose with a heavy, long-suffering sigh. “I’m so gonna kill you after this,” she groaned. Meanwhile, the Doctor kicked the rope from his boots and bounded up off the couch. Before he could get far, Rose shot off her seat as well, grabbing his leather-shielded arm. “I’m gonna kill you both after this,” she amended.

“Why do you want this so much?” the Doctor asked, almost desperate. He tried to shake her grip away, but it proved unsuccessful as he held back the strength in his arm, weary of hurting her. He tried instead to use his free hand in order to pry her off him, but she held fast, bringing forward her own free hand to lie on top of his. He watched it enclose over him and he sucked in a breath. “Why don’t we just forget it, Rose?” he offered.

“I don’t want to,” she said, stubborn. The heat of her palm slowly suffused through his skin. “This is botherin’ you and I want it all out of the way—”

“Bothering me? I’ve said this before, Rose: it’s none of my business, and I’m not looking to make it my business. I don’t care about your pointless human hookups. I have no intention of—”

“But it does bother you, Doctor! If it’s really that useless, if you really don’t care, why do you try everythin’ to make me shut up? Why?” She tightened her grip on him, keeping her voice steady, her words flowing forth in a manner that forbade interruption. “You shouldn’t have to insist. Don’t think I’m dense! Everythin’ else unimportant goes in one ear an’ out the other—but this you can’t ignore. So you get pissy an’ sulky and push everything thousands of galaxies away.”

Fluid, she cut straight through him, her accuracy leadening the marrow of his bones and effectively locking him in place. The Doctor pressed his lips into a solid line, his countenance now stormy, saturnine steel. 

“Rose…” he began, but she could already tell what would come next. Shoulders squared, she moved to make her point before he could cast it down.

“That one time, at home, with Mickey! You walked in, I was on top of him!” In his peripheral vision, the Doctor caught Jack’s eyes widening. Rose spoke hurriedly, outburst after outburst. “I was all over him, and he was a git about it, but we weren’t shaggin’! It was a tickle fight!”

The Doctor was poised to protest, but then her words registered. “A tickle fight?” he echoed, dubious. She didn’t clarify further, opting instead to plough forward, as if she expected the Doctor to evaporate at any second, willing the atoms of his hand to remain solid beneath hers.

“And that other time! With Adam! He had me up against the wall!” Her expression turned ugly, like she thought of something particularly unpleasant. Witnessing it brought the Doctor no small sense of satisfaction. “It was a total come-on—one that I did not appreciate—and I would’ve pushed him away even if you hadn’t come swannin’ in!”

“Er…”

Rose lifted her index finger to his lips. “Hush,” she said, continuing. “Now, this time! With Jack! Head on my lap!” 

She finally slowed down, her tone still imposing, yet only half as insistent. Fixing him with a sincere, affectionate gaze, she pat his hand, which, by now, he had long since forgotten he could shift away. “Well, we’re best mates, Doctor… I’m always up for a nice lounge with a friend. A bit of dumb messin’ around, a hug, a cuddle. All that good stuff, yeah? Nothin’ I wouldn’t wanna do with you, too,” she finished.

“You…” There was something hard in his throat, but he managed to speak anyway. “You make me sound like I’m jealous.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that what you are?”

The Doctor recoiled, sputtering, offended at the mere prospect. “Jealous? Me?”

Rose dropped both her grips on the Doctor, and as soon as they were free, they distanced themselves and folded their arms across their chests. Both of them mirrored each other, determined.

“I am not jealous.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she snorted. “Admit it! You don’t want your little earthling pal goin’ on play dates without you. Nine hundred years and you’re actin’ ten.”

“That’s not right,” the Doctor said.

“Then what is? Doctor, I told you: you’re stuck with me. Even if I see some cute guy I’ll still be turnin’ around and hoppin’ aboard the TARDIS.”

“You’d be leaving them behind,” he pointed out.

“Well, that’s why I’m not with anyone anymore, now isn’t it? ‘Course, that also means there’s nothing for you to be jealous for. Not like there ever would be.” She grinned at him. “You’re better than any boyfriend,” she said.

Hearing those words, paired so beautifully with her sincere smile, the Doctor’s chest felt about ready to burst.

He’d known it, really, that she’d been aching to tell him the real story, to talk to him, ever since she noticed how he kept dodging away. Rather counterintuitive, his actions, leading the spotlight to land upon his fears as opposed to away from them, but… Running was his specialty. It was all he could muster the strength to do. 

The Doctor thought himself a better man than this. He wasn’t the greatest man alive, no, definitely not, but surely, he must have matured at least a little throughout his many lives, his painfully long years. But he hadn’t. He realized Rose Tyler had both of his hearts wholly within her possession, yet rather than satisfy himself with that love alone, he grew selfish. If he could not have her heart in return, he’d rather not know to whom, or how to that whom, she’d give it.

It was ironic. It was childish. It was stupid. 

He’d rather remain ignorant then wisen to the bitter truth he feared she’d tell. 

The Doctor’s stance relaxed, his arms falling from their defensive position before him. Instinctively, he stepped forward, closer, feeling more than a slight bit foolish.

“Is that right?” he asked her, searching her eyes for some of that enthralling sincerity, that intoxicating taste of affection she tended to spare him.

“Mmhm,” she hummed.

“No competition, then?”

“Yep.”

He smiled, and the sight of it visibly delighted her. She let him close that remaining distance, let him take her hand in his own. Once he did, Rose entwined their fingers together, naturally, effortlessly, as they were often wont to do.

She chuckled. “Never thought I’d see the day,” she said.

“See what?”

“You. All pouty and jealous ‘cause I might wanna flirt a little. Y’know, I thought you’d just shrug or quip or something… Not notice. Not really.” Her smile faltered just barely, her gaze dropping down to their clasped hands. “I thought you’d let me go when you finally do, kick me out if it was gettin’ annoying, all that extra human baggage I’ll be dragging along. Befriend someone else and show them the stars instead.”

He squeezed her hand in reassurance. She lifted her eyes to meet his once again.

“I wouldn’t let go of you, Rose. Not because of that. Pack up and leave, your choice, but I’d never… You’re…” the Doctor trailed off, voice soft.

He would put up with her strays as often as she would like. He would guide them through the cosmos, brighten their dull eyes, and dip them through the potent mires of Time. Selfishly, he would bear every errant ache if he could just keep her a little longer. If he could hold her close to him—if he could carve his existence into her soul as vividly as she resides in his. 

“You’re…”

When he couldn’t finish, at a loss for a word that could ever possibly hope to describe what she meant to him, her lips twitched. “Replaceable?” she challenged, half jokingly, half not.

“No,” the Doctor shook his head. “Far from it, Rose Tyler. The complete opposite. One of a kind, you are.” 

Possessed by a whimsical, dangerously honest impulse, he raised their joined hands and turned them, elevating them level with his lips. Then, he pressed a gentle kiss to her fingertips.

“Priceless,” he whispered.

Rose’s breath caught in her throat. 

The feel of the Doctor’s lips upon her fingers lit her nerves alight, suddenly sensitive to the feather-light touch of slightly chapped skin, the careful curve of a caring smile. It made her swallow, capturing an escaping heartbeat in one heavy gulp.

When he looked at her like that, she could almost believe… And, oh, the look in his eyes… So focused. So familiar. So fond. 

Of her. 

Oh, God.

Priceless, he said. Priceless, and he’d somehow embedded a single word with the weight of millions.

Wariness crawled its way through her heart, hand-in-hand with the hope that forged it. “Don’t,” she said softly, weakly, before she could stop herself. “Don’t look at me like that.”

The fondness in the Doctor’s expression melded with concern, and Rose realized how she must have sounded. 

“Like what?” he asked. His breath tickled the flesh of her hand and she fought goosebumps. He didn’t let go of her.

“Like—Like you…” love me.

She blinked, then she shook her head once. To clear it. To rid herself of impossible ideas.

“Like you like me or somethin’,” she offered instead, shifting into a teasing smile and hoping to dispel the odd atmosphere between them. It wasn’t the best deflection, but it was the quickest thinking she could really do at the moment.

The Doctor had been jealous, and while it both pleased and frustrated her in equal measure, she knew it wasn’t anything more than a little misplaced anxiety. Worried about losing his companion, his good friend, and concerned for what that would mean for their adventures, he’d acted out. It reminded Rose of herself when she was younger, when she worried Shareen would forget all about her after hooking up with some new, exciting bloke she’d never met before.

The Doctor could be childish sometimes, as odd as it would seem. He encouraged childishness, madness, and youthful wonder in everyone he met, embodying all those aspects himself yet still somehow maintaining his hardened, war-torn visage. She loved that about him most of the time, loved every contradictory facet of who she’d come to know him as, but in this case… It hurt more than it ought.

Push and pull, it was—always was—with him. When he’d bring her close or say something brilliant enough to make her blush, Rose wasn’t sure if he was flirting for the hell of it, flirting because he meant it, or not even flirting at all.

Just like this very moment.

Instead of responding in kind to her lighthearted invitation for a bit of teasing, he remained solemn, his gaze never leaving hers.

“I do,” he said. “I think I like you a lot, Rose.”

The gravity behind his statement—the way the words left his mouth felt… different. It almost felt as if he was confessing something more than a simple, harmless liking.

Now she was the one who felt like a kid again.

“I do too,” she breathed. “Like you, that is.”

God, what was this conversation? He still had her hand lifted to his lips. Was she imagining it? The implications, the subtext? Does he know what he does to her?

They sounded like grade schoolers, but it didn’t matter. ‘Like’ was a lot easier to say than ‘love’. 

Even if he meant exactly what he said, she sure didn’t. She’d say anything at this point, because she felt a bit like a rag doll, all flopping about, with the words practically bursting through her seams. They coalesced in the most unwieldy places: heavy in her heart, circling through her head, dripping from her fingertips. “ Have you eaten?” they’d ask. “You feel okay?” they’d wonder. “Better with two,” they’d say. “You have me.”

All careful substitutions for the three words she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say.

“You sure?” he asked. 

She nodded. “Way sure.”

The Doctor shifted their hands once more, this time planting a hearty kiss on her knuckles. His eyes sparkled, pleased with her response. When he flashed that familiar grin, a little bit silly on that serious face of his, she knew something in the air had broken.

“Fantastic,” he beamed.

The tension was gone, the moment had passed, and all dismissed by that mercurial manner of his. He seemed reassured, past jealousy all but forgotten, ready to move on. He dropped her hand and straightened. 

That’s that. Problem solved. Issues voiced and feelings reaffirmed. He liked her, she liked him, and their friendship would never waver because they would not let flighty romances get in their way. 

Was that it?

“We good?” Rose found herself asking, slightly dazed.

“Never better,” the Doctor responded goodnaturedly. “I’m sorry. You were right, Rose. I’m a bit stubborn, but you showed me how-to. Good on you. Communication!” he laughed. “Should’ve bothered sooner.”

She watched him. Watched the way his figure seemed to angle toward her, watched the way his body language always invited her closer. That leather jacket looked warm. He wore a wool jumper this time around, in a subdued shade of maroon. Rose could imagine how it felt beneath her fingers.

He started saying something again, but she was too busy thinking. Unlike the other times she was left to recover, heart woefully racing because of him, for him, she couldn’t let this go. Not that easy. No.

He asked her something, and when she didn’t answer, he turned to her with caring, engaging eyes.

“Rose?”

There was only so much a girl could take. 

“Oh, screw it,” she growled. To hell with mixed signals. Rose Tyler grew up going with her gut, and her mum was always waxing poetic about listening to her heart. If the Doctor hadn’t been so special, so unique in his alienness, she would’ve done something ages ago, in the name of everything he made her feel.

Ignoring the confusion rapidly overtaking his expression, she slipped a hand under the Doctor’s leather jacket, hauling him to her with a firm tug at his waist. Then, she snaked her hands across his torso, palms gliding over the wool upon his chest and lingering, lovingly, over the double beat of his pulse. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

They’ve hugged before. They’ve even been squeezed tight in enclosed spaces, heart-to-hearts, lungs heaving together as they shared adrenaline-fueled breaths. This closeness wasn’t new.

But the intimacy was.

The Doctor stood rigid beneath her, frozen in shock. The fact wasn’t strong enough to discourage, as she had a mind to see things through, but it made her skin warm with something other than attraction, pierced her determination with anxiety.

Slowly—giving him plenty of time to recoil in disgust, to pull away, to push her off of him—she rose upon her tiptoes and leant her weight upon his. Inch by inch, their faces drew nearer. 

She watched him watch her, both of them thoroughly entranced, until their lips met in a halting kiss.

Jack considered leaving. He really did. Hell, he was all for giving a(n extremely repressed) newfound couple some privacy, but… Damn.

You’d be hard pressed to find a melodrama as good as their conversation anywhere in the universe, for crying out loud, so he’d settled down in an armchair and just let it play out. Time how long it would take until they realized he was still there. Relax a bit. Rubberneck, maybe. 

No, not maybe. Definitely.  

They probably forgot he was present eons ago. Soon as the Doc got off his pert butt and started making a run for it once again, good ol’ Jack faded off into the wallpaper. Or he would, if the TARDIS had wallpaper.

Jack grinned. It was great. He was truly, honestly happy for them.

He watched with rapt attention when they went head-to-head and unabashed fascination when they clung to each other. He also marveled at Rose’s tenacity, ever her heartfelt supporter, when she surged forward into the Doctor’s arms.

When they finally kissed… Jack almost couldn’t believe it. When that kiss evolved into something considerably less tentative, less exploratory, and more passionate… He started questioning reality.

The Doctor remained unresponsive for a solid second or two before the tantalizing press of Rose’s soft lips finally coaxed him into action. His arms, then, quickly lifted to wrap around her, pressing her even more firmly against the wall of his body. Jack could see the Doctor’s disbelief in the way his fingers dug into the fabric of her sweater, the way they trembled to touch her in ways he’d never before allow. Palpable desire colored the air of the little bubble they’ve enclosed themselves within, and the soft sound of their increasingly labored breathing served as the soundtrack to the cathartic discovery of their hidden love.

Rose toyed with the scruff of hair at the back of the Doctor’s neck as they deepened the kiss, the Doctor’s hand reaching up to cup her cheek, his long fingers breaching through her blonde tresses as he tilted her head for more access, fitting together perfectly, finally, completely. He took her bottom lip between his teeth to nibble upon gently, but Rose lost patience, tongue darting free to entice his own. The Doctor immediately gave in to the temptation and Rose made a sound akin to an odd, yet endearing, mix between a moan and a giggle.

On second thought… Maybe Jack should leave them be, after all. They didn’t look like they were close to stopping any time soon. He’d since stopped counting how much time had passed since they’ve forgotten him.

Jack sighed, rising carefully from the armchair as unobtrusively as possible, proud of his two wonderful friends. Regret had no place within him, for while he loved and desired them both, he supported the relationship between them even more. 

There was something there. Something special, something Jack himself would struggle to find. He could feel it—similar to a more concrete sort of intuition—whenever he caught them sneaking glances, sharing silly smiles, and luxuriating in the other’s presence. Despite the reluctance to confess the depth of their regard on either side, Jack knew better. It was precisely for this reason he had given up courting Rose Tyler long ago, perceiving with clear, insightful eyes precisely how impossible the task would prove.

She was spoken for, however silently.

The knowledge dipped the Doctor’s earlier jealousy in a vaguely comical sort of irony. 

Careful to avoid the amorous couple still quite passionately engaged in oral fisticuffs, Jack made his way to the door. He spared them one last glance for good luck, witnessed Rose in the midst of running her hands through the Doctor’s short-cropped hair, and… Wait, was she tugging on his ears? 

The Doctor let out a low, rumbling growl. 

Well then.

Jack wasn’t beyond admitting he’d wanted to hear that at some point, too. Atta girl, Rose.

Returning back to the task at hand, Jack turned the knob, ready to give them plenty enough privacy to—he chuckled to himself—really get down to business, should they come to require it.

He’d forgotten, however, that the doors in the TARDIS’ living quarters had a penchant for clicking when opened or shut. Only the Doctor ever really managed to exert the right amount of pressure, to twist his wrist in that perfect, practiced way that ensured the door a smooth, soundless swing. It was another one of the TARDIS’s many unique little quirks that spoke of both her age and character, granting her a sort of comforting, homey impression despite her power, her scientific capabilities. They were charming, gentle little flaws known to her passengers only through time spent aboard.

So, when Jack turned that tastefully, yet strangely, carved handle, the resulting clack hit his eardrums clear and clean.

He cringed. Then he turned.

The Doctor and Rose met his sheepish gaze with wide, dazed eyes. 

“J-Jack,” Rose managed, red-lipped and kiss-swollen. Her voice was husky, bearing a slight, seductive rasp prevalent despite her surprise.

The sound of it shot the Doctor with an eclectic array of emotions: satisfaction at having caused that in her, annoyance that it wasn’t his name she had spoken, desire at the sound of it, and confusion as to why their mouths were far enough apart to speak.

“Jack?” the Doctor echoed, equally surprised, equally breathless. Not quite there yet. 

Jack greeted them, poised mid-exit. “Heyyy… You lovebirds. Got it in one! It’s yours truly.” He might have chuckled but he looked contrite, almost, despite the fact that he wasn’t the one snogging—

The Doctor’s mind cleared. His Rose-tinted glasses slipped, plonking right off his nose.

He turned rapidly, back to the warm body pressed against him. There she stood, his companion, caressed lovingly in his arms, staring back at him. A mirror of his own astonishment. A very, very close mirror.

Oh.

Oh.

They drank in the sight of each other for a few more drunken drum beats, realization about what they’ve just done flooding through them like a shockwave. Rose’s sensuous, plush lips parted, perhaps to speak—

Jack cleared his throat. 

Their attention snapped back to him.

He observed their harried dispositions and smiled knowingly. “Well, you two clearly have other things you’d rather be doing! About time, if you ask me. Now, unless you want me to join in on the festivities—“ he shot them a cheeky wink—“I’m heading out. I’ll be in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, if you need me.”

Without waiting for a response from them, the Doctor watched as Jack opened the door completely and stepped through it. It clicked shut behind him. 

Then, just as fast, it swung back open. His head popped in, grinning. 

“And congratulations, you crazy kids! Don’t have too much fun without me,” he joked. Then, he closed the door once again.

The Doctor and Rose watched the entrance for a few more seconds, but it stayed shut for good. Slowly, gingerly, their eyes found each other once more.

“That… Was interesting,” she said.

“Yep,” the Doctor replied. He couldn’t help but observe her mouth, follow the shape of her lips as she spoke.

“He said congratulations.”

“He did, didn’t he?”

She nodded absently. “We… We should… Thank him sometime.”

“We should.”

“Not now, though.”

The Doctor shook his head. “No, definitely not…”

“What d’you think we should do instead, then?”

She pressed closer, bringing their faces near once again. He found himself doing much the same, bowing his head to meet her half way.

“I don’t know.”

“We could… Uh, we… could…”

Her breath tickled his nose. His breath tickled hers.

“Yes?”

Their gazes were dark and smoldering with intent. Her pupils were dilated, captivating little black holes that distorted gravity itself, drawing him closer and sucking his soul into them, claiming him, keeping him.

“We could… Do… This,” Rose finished, and they pushed forward at once, the both of them. 

Their mouths clashed together carelessly in another kiss, somehow even more desperate than the last. Born from the barely-concealed frustration of being interrupted, they lost themselves in each other for the second time. The Doctor groaned in satisfaction, sensing Rose sigh against him, before entangling their tongues in a sybaritic dance, indulging in her taste, her warmth. 

Rose began to shift. Intent on keeping them together, he shifted with her, all the superior Time Lord senses he allowed himself focused solely upon the woman in his arms. He vaguely registered their shuffling feet, his innate spatial awareness informing him that they were moving, before he felt something thump against his calves and he sank backwards, onto the couch. 

Their lips still locked, Rose fell with him. Her legs crowded his sides as she straddled him. The solid weight of her upon his lap proved euphoric, intoxicating. His hands slid to grasp her hips, his thumbs slipping beneath her sweater to land upon her soft, pliant skin and she moaned, a pleasing sound.

Oddly enough, that’s what did it. In sync, they pulled themselves apart with a gasp and she rested her forehead upon his own.

Her blonde hair framed the periphery of his vision like a curtain. Both of their chests were heaving. After a few beats of merely basking in each other’s presence, the Doctor broke the silence.

“Rose…” he said, voice hoarse.

“Doctor,” she whispered. 

She lifted her head to properly face him. The light glinted off her hoop earrings. 

“Rose,” he repeated, this time less throaty. Gaining coherence.

“Doctor,” she repeated as well, her tone slightly more amused.

He caught it, clearly, and a grin gradually began to blossom on his face. “Rose Tyler,” he beamed.

She matched him, grin for grin. “Doctor, er… Smith? The Doctor?” She paused, pouting. “Oh, s’not fair, you don’t have a last name.”

That tickled. Only a little bit, but it was enough. He chuckled, and that chuckle soon turned into laughter. She joined him, shoulders shaking with mirth, and they descended into a fit of giggles, clutching each other in their elation.

He was high, as high as he’s been in centuries. For the first time in far too long, surviving stopped being a curse. If living meant experiencing something as wondrous as this, he was glad to be alive, even if just for the moment.

He loved being with her.

Calming down, they righted themselves so they both sat up straight, although she seemed perfectly content to remain atop him. He was perfectly content to let her, honestly.

“You kissed me,” the Doctor said.

“Indeed I did, Doctor,” Rose smiled. “And you kissed back.”

“Best decision I’ve made yet.”

Rose nodded seriously. “I must concur.”

“Putting on airs?” he teased.

“Mm, nope,” she said. “The opposite. I’m losin’ my mind.”

“That good?”

Her smile turned impish. “You’re a great kisser, y’know. Oh,” she rolled her eyes, “I see that look. Don’t let it get to your head!”

“It got to yours,” he said, and if his pride bled a bit into his smile, well… 

She sighed in mock exasperation, but even that did little to dim the happy glow on her face. She hugged him. 

He hugged her back, his arms wrapping around her.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while now,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose into his neck.

“So did I.”

“So why didn’t you?”

He could feel her heartbeat against his chest. Her single, human heart. Beautiful, but so much weaker than his. Not built to last.

And with that, he remembered. 

Like harsh winter rain intruding upon a sultry summer day, his inhibitions slithered their way back within him. They were cruel little remnants of reality that clung to him like chains, sobering away his merriment.

“I didn’t want to scare you away,” he said.

She snorted. “Do I look like I’m running for my life right now, Doctor?”

“No, but you should be.”

His voice had changed. She pulled away. “Why would you say that?” she asked. Her brows knitted together, and the Doctor could see concern begin to replace her contentment. 

“I’m…” he began, but then he shook his head. Restarted. “You deserve better, that’s all.” 

Sensing the protest about to come his way, he made to elaborate. 

“Nine hundred years old. Nine hundred years of existence. And do you know what I’ve learnt?”

“What?”

“Everything comes and goes. ‘Nothing gold can stay,’ and you, Rose, shine the brightest, most beautiful gold I have ever seen.” He raised his right hand, gently brushing away stray strands, cupping her cheek. “I can’t promise us a future. Not together, not for long, and certainly not with your safety guaranteed. You deserve better than that. You deserve your human happily ever after, with someone who can stand by your side and stay.”

Her eyes glistened with moisture. “And that someone isn’t you?”

“No. Not me.”

“So, why? Why’ve you kept me around for this long? Why didn’t you scare me away?” Her voice was breaking, betraying her willfulness with its weakness. “Why did you let me kiss you?”

The Doctor let out a shaky breath. “A bit stupid, I am. No, more than a bit.” He dropped his hand, letting it fall to his side. Already, it longed to touch her once more. “It’s ‘cause I wanted to, Rose. Every minute I’m around you, even now, I want nothin’ more than to kiss you soundly and forget everything else. Even if it means I’ll… Even if it means it’ll be harder to let you go once I do.”

She ducked her head, resting it against his shoulder. Her own shoulders, tensed from her impromptu interrogation, slumped. “You called yourself stupid. That’s a first,” she told his jacket. “You like me that much, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Being with you… I’m the best I’ve been in years.”

“An’ you regret all this? ‘Cause it’ll break my heart?” 

“Yes.”

“Even if you’re happy when you’re with me?”

He paused. “Yes.”

“Then do it, Doctor.”

“What?”

“Do it. Break my heart.” She lifted her head off his shoulder and took his hand. Squeezed it. “If I have to let you go at some point, break my heart into mingy little pieces. Shatter it.”

“Excuse me?”

Fixing her gaze unto him, heavy, serious, laden with terrifying sincerity, she spoke: “You heard me. Take those little pieces of my heart and crush them under your feet, even. Go nuts. Make it so that I’ll never forget you. Be my greatest heartache, Doctor.”

She smiled sadly. Then, with her free hand, she gently eased the crease in his brow. 

“‘Cause I know I’ll be yours.”

He opened his mouth to deny her, but nothing came out. He could only find it in himself to listen, at a loss for words amidst the tumultuous emotions she excited within him.

“Or at least one of them, anyway. Blimey, you’ve got baggage,” Rose added teasingly. “Ah, but… As long as I’m here,” she promised, “you won’t have to carry it alone.”

He knew what she was doing. He knew what she was trying to say. It was too late, she meant; they’ve already fallen too far, irredeemably intertwining themselves in each other’s lives, turning their solitary red strings into a tangled ball of fate. No matter what they did, or when they would come to separate, they would mourn each other nonetheless. Now it was a matter of what they did in the meantime. How they spent their moments together before the universe finally finds it apt to pull them apart.

She wanted to go down swinging. She was prepared to pay the consequences. His mind echoed that realization over and over again.

Rose observed him, however, waiting for his response. After a few seconds, wherein he just stared at her, she started getting worried.

“Doctor?” she said, and it was the concern in her voice that finally did it, the affection that tinged the syllables with enchanting care. It was the lovely sound of her name upon his lips, something only Rose could create. 

Doctor.

He’d miss hearing it. He’d miss her.

Something in him gave. 

If he knew their time was short, he was going to take as much of her as he could. Drown himself in greed, allow himself this taste of happiness. It was forbidden knowledge, but they’ve come too far to feign ignorance. He would believe in her, heedless of the price to pay.

His Rose. Salvation with a sacrifice.

Silently, he took her face in both his hands and guided it down toward his own. As tenderly as he could manage, he conveyed his resolution with a press of their lips. A promise sealed with a kiss. 

This kiss lacked the urgency that characterized the last two, and instead of igniting her hunger, the Doctor felt her melt against him, hopeful, at ease. No longer did they fumble for each other with eager hands or devour each other with a heady sigh; every touch remained a reverent caress, mouths bestowing wordless assurances upon the other.

The Doctor broke away only to place one last devoted kiss on her cheek, his hands finding their place upon her hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the favor, eyelashes fluttering against his skin like dark butterfly wings.

“You have a way of surprising me,” he whispered. “Sayin’ the strangest things.”

“I could say the same about you, Mr. Alien Man,” she chuckled.

“Oh, but that’s different. That’s just me bein’ clever.”

“Maybe,” she said. She gave him his customary ‘whatever floats your ego-boat’ look before shifting into something a little more serious, questioning. “But really, Doctor. Does this mean what I think it does? ‘Cause if it doesn’t, and you just gave me the sweetest kiss in my life, ever, just to reject me—“

“Yeah, it does,” he interrupted with a small laugh. “I give in. You won me over. ‘M all yours.”

Relief washed through her. “Yeah?” she smiled.

“Absolutely. Rose Tyler, I…” 

The Doctor trailed off. Took a breath. Let the humor fall from him. 

He had to say this right, with just the right amount of gravity, with enough certainty that she wouldn’t question his sincerity. Moving to stroke her hair and watching the soft strands flow from his fingers, he finally allowed his affection for her to completely seep past his defenses, radiate from his very being.

It manifested in the words he spoke.

“I love you,” he said.

Rose… froze.

Finely attuned to her, the Doctor could hear her breath catch, sense her pulse quicken. She sat rigid and her arms tightened imperceptibly behind him, as if she hadn’t expected him to ever confess it at all. Her open expression revealed to him the obvious question running through her head: had she heard correctly?

He smiled tenderly. 

“Rose, I love you,” he tried again. “I love you very, very much.”

It was like everything came unlocked. She blinked once at him, before sagging against him with a lung-deep exhale.

She ducked her head, chuckling breathlessly, incredulously.

“I’ve wanted to hear that—I thought—with all your moaning, I thought it’d take you longer,” she stumbled. Then, she exhaled again, her cheeks pink. “God, Doctor, I wasn’t ready for that. Reckon I’d have to wait, y’know, ‘cause, ‘cause… Sayin’ it makes it all…”

“Real?”

“Yeah,” Rose laughed. “Makes it more. More than a bit of snoggin’. I thought you’d be afraid.”

His eyes sparkled with joy. “I’m going all in, Rose. All or nothing, with you.”

“Goin’ out with a bang?” she offered, grinning.

“Exactly. We’re goin’ out with a bang, you and me.”

“God, finally,” she said. Then she pulled back, her arms outstretched between them. Her voice turned soft.

“I love you too,” she beamed.

They really did find Jack in the kitchen. He was sitting there by the table, chewing on a banana with his nose in a book, hot cup of coffee within reach. By the looks of it, he’d even finished some buttered toast.

Thankfully enough, it wasn’t hard to reach him. A quick mental once-over revealed to the Doctor that the TARDIS was content and the rooms were located where they were meant to be. The labyrinth was no more, much to his companions’ relief, and that vague sense of disapproval his ship had been constantly sending his way for the last forty-and-a-half hours abated.

When Jack saw them, he greeted them with wide arms and a suggestive grin. “Why, if it isn’t my favorite couple!” he exclaimed grandly, emphasis on the word ‘couple’.

Rose giggled and the Doctor rolled his eyes goodnaturedly, before they both thanked him for his discretion and caught him up on their plans. 

They were thinking about stopping at one of those resort planets the Doctor mentioned before, and they wanted Jack’s final opinion on which one. It was an opportunity to let loose. Relaxation Plan B to stave off labyrinth-induced cabin fever. The Doctor, a little guiltily, proposed they try the ‘stay-at-home’ option another time.

After they made their choice (a tropical little dwarf planet with pastel sand, decadent fruit, and a rousing nightlife), they filtered into the console room. There, the Doctor spotted his lost sonic screwdriver poised innocently on the jump seat, almost as if he’d simply left it behind. Casually picking it up and slipping it into his pocket, he thanked his precious timeship and set their flight into motion.

If their landing was a bit softer than they expected that time around, well, who knows? Perhaps the Doctor’s good mood attributed to his driving skills. Perhaps the TARDIS was feeling kind.

The pair lingered behind, allowing Jack to walk ahead of them and eagerly, yet cautiously, peek through the doors. Grabbing Rose’s hand, the Doctor smiled at her and catalogued her answering grin into memory. She was going to have fun, and he would make sure of it. Not just on this one trip, either, but for every single trip to come, now and forever, for as long as forever would allow. Be it for the rest of her life or the next few months, he would leave her smiling, even if it meant giving all of himself to guarantee it.

He swore, with or without him in it, Rose Tyler was going to have a fantastic life.

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2020 #22: In which Cameron and Donna get dressed

[CN: gender non-conformity and related bodily discomfort with gendered clothing; non-graphic references to being harassed for gender non-conformity]

Ed’s note: @dealanexmachina sent me a prompt, and this is a follow up to the post it originally inspired!

(PREVIOUSLY)

Two nights before the gala, Cameron showed up to Donna’s house for their nightly work date carrying a garment bag. “Uh, is it cool if I leave this here? And like, maybe I could just show up early and get dressed here, before the party?” Donna eyed the garment bag with apparent interest. “I called Risa, and her partner, we went shopping, and I saw their tailor.” 

Donna’s face lit up. “So it worked out then? That’s great! Let me put this in my closet….” Donna got up and started toward her room, and Cameron went with her. When they got there, Cameron handed the bag over, and Donna hung it from a hook on the back of the door. Then, she asked, “Hey, can I look? I’m curious about what you wound up picking out.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Cameron had said, uncertain.

Donna unzipped the bag, and when she saw the gray blazer inside, she smiled. 

Nervously, Cameron laughed, “What?”

“Nothing, it just reminds me of a blazer you used to wear when we first moved out here,” Donna said. “The one that fit you really well. You had some stuff back then that started to cross the line from ‘oversized’ to ‘it looks too big on her,’ but, you also had stuff that looked really nice on you.” Donna gently touched the blazer’s lapel, and without meaning to, imagined smoothing out the blazer while Cameron was actually wearing it, and Cameron smiling back at her as she did so. Face feeling warm, Donna zipped up the bag. “So how was it? Shopping, I mean? It wasn’t terrible, was it?”

“Eh,” Cameron sighed. “It wasn’t terrible, Risa actually came with me?”

“Aw!” Donna exclaimed. “I wish I could’ve been there!”

Looking very uncomfortable, Cameron had said, “It was a lot. It wasn’t just shopping, it was like…what I imagine therapy is like. And why I’m not interested in therapy.”

“Oh?” Donna frowned.

Cameron shook her head. “There was just, a lot of ‘why do you think wearing dresses and other women’s clothes causes you so much discomfort? Why do you think you’re feeling discomfort right now? What are you worried about, Cameron, why does this scare you?’ It was a long day.”

“Oh. Well, did it work?” Donna asked.

Tentatively, Cameron said, “I found something to wear, so, I guess?”

When Cameron showed up at Donna’s house, two days later, an entire hour before the gala was slated to begin, the only thing more shocking than her punctuality was how she looked: Donna, in a dressing gown herself, her hair already set in curlers, opened her front door expecting to find a delivery person or early guest, but there was Cameron, in a button down flannel shirt and her overalls, carrying her backpack as always, but with her hair clearly just washed, moussed, blow dried, and smoothed into place, and her (barely detectable) makeup already done. 

“Okay, the shocked look on your face? Is not a compliment,” Cameron snapped.

“It’s not shock!” Donna had protested. “It’s just…you look great.”

“Well,” Cameron pushed past her, “when I get back to the salon, I’ll be sure to let everyone there know you approve of my makeover.”

Haley and Vanessa had just sat down at the dining room table with Vanessa’s tarot cards and guide book. They watched as Cameron came in, Donna following her. Vanessa whistled, and called out, “Foxy lady!”

Cameron blushed, but then she stopped and turned to Donna. “See? That felt like a compliment.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not that I came here like this looking for compliments.”

Vanessa and Haley looked at each other, and then back at Cameron and Donna. 

Unsure of what else to say, Donna defaulted to momsplaining mode. “So, Cameron is here, for the gala!”

“Gala tiiiime, excellennnnt!” Vanessa sang.

“Are those the same overalls you wore last year? When you fell into the pool?” Haley asked. 

“A fashion statement that’s bold in its casual whimsy,” Vanessa said.

“She’s got a more formal outfit to wear,” Donna said. “She went shopping with Risa.”

Voice full of sudden yearning, Haley said, “I wanna go shopping with Risa,”

“Can I also get in on that?” Vanessa asked. “Because I’d like to see that.”

“Would you, though?” Cameron squinted. Clutching at the straps of her backpack, she warned them, “Risa doesn’t let you just pick things out and try them on. She makes you talk about your feelings.”

In unison, Vanessa and Haley both said, “That sounds like her.”

“Well prom is coming up, right sweetie?” Donna asked. Haley gave her a look, and then Donna said, “There’s also graduation. Maybe if Risa wouldn’t mind, we could all go?” 

Flatly, Cameron said, “I love you all, but that still sounds like hell on earth.”

Vanessa and Haley laughed out loud, and Donna, struggling to suppress her own laughter, grimaced broadly. “Speaking of which!” she said. “It’s almost time. Wanna go get dressed?”

Haley and Vanessa looked at each other again.

Still feeling incredibly self-conscious and put out by the entire thing, Cameron said, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Okay! You girls have fun, and, I guess we’ll see you later?” Donna said. 

“We will definitely be here,” Vanessa said.

Donna started toward her bedroom, and Cameron went with her. Haley watched them, and under her breath, she said, “God I wish Joanie was here to see this.”

Vanessa smirked at her.

In her bedroom, Donna grinned, “You really do look very nice. I know it’s different and that we’re teasing you about it, but it’s not because it didn’t turn out right.” She quietly closed the door most of the way without shutting it entirely. She turned back to Cameron, and said, “We’re mostly teasing you because you seem like you kind of hate it.”

Cameron shrugged off her backpack. Face scrunched, she said, “I do kind of hate it. I hate how it always feels like I’m dressing up for someone else, or some secret universal beauty pageant, even though I’m not really.”

Donna sat down lightly at her vanity. “Well, in that case, next year, change of plans. Instead of a gala, I’ll have a hayride, so you can wear your overalls, and I can wear my cowboy boots that still haven’t seen the light of day in this state.” 

Cameron smiled tentatively, arms crossed over her chest again. “I’ll invest in a new flannel shirt for the occasion.” 

Picking up an eye shadow brush, Donna said, “Your clothes are still hanging in the same spot in the walk-in, if you wanna get dressed in there?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Cameron said. She looked around the room uncertainly, as if looking for directions, or maybe an excuse to do something else, and then she turned and went into the closet.

Donna swept some slightly shimmery taupe eye shadow onto her right eyelid, and then blended it out through the crease. She did the same to the second eye, and then picking up a black pencil eye liner, she awkwardly said, “So this is fun, huh…? Just…gettin’ ready together…having’ fun….”

As she unbuttoned her shirt, Cameron said, “Yes, my high school dreams of being best friends with the pretty, popular girls is finally coming true.”

Donna used a stiffer brush to smudge the minimal amount of eye liner she’d just applied close to her right eye’s lash line. She pictured Cameron, struggling to put on clothes she didn’t love for a party that she didn’t want to go to. “You know, I’m glad you’re here?” she called out. “I really hope it won’t be completely miserable for you, though.”

Pulling on her brand new trousers, Cameron said, “Well, there’s gonna be food, and you’ll be there. It’ll be like every night that I’m here, just with like 50 other people. I’ll manage.”

Curling her eye lashes now, Donna gazed into the mirror, and again, without really meaning to, imagined Cameron, on the other side of her closet door, carefully getting dressed for her gala, and was overwhelmed by a surge of affection. She felt herself start to flush, and then looked in the mirror, and saw her cheeks glowing red. She took a deep breath, and said, “Well, I appreciate it. And who knows, maybe you’ll even have fun, and meet some new people?” She moved on to applying her mascara as calmly as she could. 

Tucking her shirt into her trousers, Cameron grinned, “Stranger things have happened, right?”

Donna was tapping on some concealer when Cameron quietly stepped back into the bedroom a couple minutes later. She sat down on the bench in front of Donna’s bed, and pulled a pair of pointy black brogues out of her bag.

Donna glanced back over her shoulder. “Those look really nice.” When Cameron didn’t say anything, Donna asked her, “So, when Risa asked you what you’re ‘scared of,’ and what’s making you ‘uncomfortable.’ What did you say?”

Lacing the first of her shoes, Cameron said, “I told her that I’m scared of looking and feeling silly and like an alien, just like everyone else is. And then she was all, ‘No, be more specific. Dig deep for me, Cameron.’” It had been scary at the time, but Cameron grinned. She put on her other shoe, and said, “So I told her about how finding pants that fit me is really difficult, because they’re always too short, and usually, they’re either weird and baggy, or they’re too tight and show how skinny my legs are. To which Risa said, ‘Well my heart bleeds for you, every pair of paints making you look tall and slim must be a horrendous burden to bear.’”

Donna giggled so hard that she doubled over slightly, and had to put down the blush compact she’d just picked up. 

Cameron sat up, and was quiet for a second, as she listened to Donna, and watched her shoulders shake with quiet laughter. When she finally snorted and then made herself stop, Cameron continued. “Uh, I also realized that I’m weird about fabrics? It’s not just how fancy, formal women’s clothes are cut, the fabrics are like, itchy and weird to me, and like, just thinking about it makes me weirdly anxious?”

Sympathetically, as she blended out her blush, Donna said, “Some fabrics really do feel horrendous, and they don’t breathe well enough.”

Donna had just barely finished her sentence when Cameron blurted out, “When I was a kid people used to make fun of me for looking like a boy. When I was in high school I realized that what they were really saying was that I looked like, you know. Like I didn’t like boys, and that I must like girls.”

Donna looked up from the three lipsticks she’d been trying to choose from, and half turned back toward Cameron. “What do you mean, what people were saying? Did people actually say things about that to you?”

“People mostly thought it, I think,” Cameron said, hunching over in her seat. “There was this one guy I went to high school with who used to bother me about it, like, a lot, like it felt like he lived to bug me about it. My guidance counselor said that maybe it was because he had a crush on me. Which, the feeling really wasn’t even remotely mutual.”

Donna, both lost for words and still struggling to pick a lip color, didn’t say anything. Haltingly, Cameron added, “It took me a really long time to admit this, part of why it bothered me so much is that I wasn’t really interested in boys. And it felt like something must be wrong with me. And pretending that I was didn’t help, it just made me seem weirder, and more awkward, and, fake.”

Rolling her eyes slightly, Donna said, “ I wasn’t interested in boys in high school, either.” She finally decided on the deep rosy nude lipstick and swiped it on. 

Surprised, Cameron sat up. “Really?”

Donna scoffed into her vanity mirror as she started to pull the rollers out of her hair. “I mean, I dated some, in high school, and I fooled around with a couple of boys. But it wasn’t for them, it was for me, because I wanted to go out, and because I wanted to try things, and seeing what being that kind of girl was like. I didn’t really like anyone until college, I was on my own, I was studying what I was interested in, and I met Gordon, and….”

“Your astrophysicist?” Cameron finished for her.

“Yes,” Donna said quietly. She stood up quickly, raked her hair into place with her fingers, and said, “I’m gonna get dressed, though.” She disappeared into her closet, where she started to hyperventilate for a moment, before she made herself calm down and focus on putting on her dress, and stepping into her shoes, and going back out into her room. 

“Hey,” she said, trying to sound relaxed. “Uh, I’m almost ready, I’m just gonna put on some jewelry, so....” She hurried back to her vanity, where she put on a watch.

“Okay,” Cameron stood up. She started to pull her blazer.

Donna turned back to her as she was putting in the second of a pair of small gold hoop earrings. Momentarily forgetting what she was doing, Donna said, “Wow.”

She was wearing the blazer over a plain black crew neck top, which was tucked into her high-waisted gray pleated silk tweed trousers, which were being held up by a pair of plain black suspenders. As if on cue, the color rose in Cameron’s cheeks. “What?” 

“Nothing,” Donna shook her head. “You just do that so well.”

Cameron cackled as she smoothed out her clothes. “Do what well, exactly? Look confused about my gender and sexuality?”

Donna didn’t want to be overly serious, but she also couldn’t bring herself to laugh. “You look good, Cam,” she grinned. “Not every woman can carry that off.” 

Cameron slid her hands into her pockets. “Thanks.”

Donna stepped tentatively toward her bedroom door, and then she stopped to look in the full-length mirror that was hung there. Having worn a long, flowing, sleeveless, bright red dress the previous year, Donna had chosen to go shorter, slimmer, and darker for this gala. A deep wine red sheath with a slightly looser bodice and sleeves, the hemline fell several inches above her knee, and the neckline was high. Donna wasn’t typically one to second guess these kinds of choices, but she looked in the mirror, and worried that the dress was too short. She smoothed out the bottom half of the dress, hoping it would look longer, and then started to compulsively smooth her hair down.

Exasperated, Cameron joined her in front of the mirror. Firmly, she said, “Donna. You look fine.” She looked into the mirror so she could catch Donna’s eye, but then saw the both of them, standing next to each other. We match, Cameron realized. They didn’t literally match, but they looked like they went together. Cameron had never felt that way standing next to anyone else.

Donna looked at her, saw that she was looking in the mirror, and then looked into the mirror with her. I do look fine, she thought. And we really look nice together. Donna smiled at the mirror. 

“You look better than fine,” Cameron said, feeling mildly anxious. “You look really nice, as always.”

“Thank you,” Donna said. “Shall we?”

Cameron nodded, and Donna stepped forward and pulled open the door. She walked through it, and Cameron followed her. 

[sirinthebird]

2. “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

Second prompt and now my third work for the drabble challenge. Join me on the quest of “How ridiculous can the plot possibly get?” 

Hope you enjoy!

Among many other revelations about his personality that Bakugou had throughout the years one of the most outstanding was that he was an adventurer in every way. Countless hours of critical reflection and self-understanding brought him to an amusing conclusion: battlefield was not the only place where his creative mind let itself loose. Bakugou was even more ecstatic when he found out that Kirishima would usually follow along with his urges. Bakugou thought that it’s more fun to do new stuff together; Kirishima thought Bakugou needed adult supervision.

When an idea came over him Bakugou turned into a tornado of frantic action, while Kirishima resorted to foreshadowing, or fixing, the damage and trying to not encourage his loved one too much. This almost comical personality swap lasted until Bakugou satisfies his curiosity and turns into his usual responsible self.

This is the precise explanation of how Kirishima found himself sitting on the kitchen chair, motionless like a statue as per Bakugous instructions, under the brightest lamp there is in their entire apartment. Bakugou seriously debated ripping a neon lamp out of their bathroom ceiling but that catastrophe was averted thanks to Kirishima’s superpower of Bakugoutaming.

Kirishima was uncomfortable as hell, his left butt cheek was itchy, and his thigh was going numb, but he was left to silently suffer while Bakugou was laser-focused on applying eyeliner on his partners left eyelid.

“Why did I ever agree to this?” Kirishima mutters half-slurred so that his face doesn’t move too much.

“Because you love me,” Bakugou says matter-of-factly. “And because I think you would look good with makeup on. Remember what Black eyes said about your eyes one time?”

“First of all, I do. Second of all, when exactly? We spent three years in UA together with her, and we are still very much in contact.” Kirishima wants to roll his eyes but it would probably just make his suffering last longer. He suddenly feels itchy for any movement whatsoever and takes a slow deep breath to cope with the feeling.

“When she said your eyes are a pretty almond shape,” Bakugou replies, feeling impatient. “Well, I thought some eyeliner would do your pretty eyes some fucking justice.”

“That was in the second year if I remember correctly,” There is a very cheeky grin on Kirishima’s face now. “Remembering this comment after so long. Were you maybe jealous?” Kirishima wiggles his eyebrows as best as he can.

“Bullshit,” Bakugou declares, obviously trying to brush the comment off, but his splotchy blush speaks for itself and Kirishima’s chest feels warm. “Now sit still, I’m almost done.”

“The limits of your “almost” have not been set, Katsuki,” Kirishima grumbles at Bakugou’s back as he disappears in the hallway. Kirishima finally has time to stretch his numb limbs and he catches a glimpse of a wall mirror while he’s busy stretching out his triceps. He couldn’t help himself, obviously, he wants to see what kind of fruit Bakugou’s efforts have borne. Kirishima takes his new look in, angling his face towards and away from the source of light and he kind of sees what it’s all about. He can’t help but admit that eyeliner does look good on him, and Bakugou was right, just like usual. He also can’t help but feel happy and proud of Bakugou in a way, because he was so patient, and he took the time, and he did it so damn well. Just like everything that he does. Kirishima has learned a long time ago to feel pride rather than a pang of jealousy upon witnessing another perfectly executed work of Bakugou Katsuki.

“Hey, what are you doing? I’m not done yet!” Bakugou’s voice sounds so close that Kirishima has a fleeting thought that his reflexes are getting stale. Kirishima takes his rightful place on the chair and the adventure continues. Kirishima fully expects Bakugou to take out eyeshadow or mascara but the blond just smirks, full of mischief, and takes out a tiny box.

“Close your eyes!” Bakugou commands before Kirishima can have a good look on the box. With his eyes closed, he feels way to vulnerable for his liking with Bakugou holding and having an intention of using an undefined object. Several noises of frustration from his partner later Kirishima feel something touch his eyelid right at the roots of his lashes. It doesn’t feel like anything really, apart from pressing quiet heavily on his lashes. Soon, the other eye receives the same treatment. The weird pressing feeling on his lashes has doubled now, but it’s nothing unbearable.

“All done, Ei! Open your eyes,” Bakugou sounds triumphant. Kirishima is reasonably suspicious, but he does what he is told with no better thing to do in his position. He is immediately ten times more uncomfortable and the pressing feeling is much worse. His vision is cloudy and a bit doubled and his eyes start to water. Before he can pull himself together and react, he can see a distorted shape of Bakugous phone in front of his face. The bastard is taking pictures either to laugh at him or to remember his gorgeous look with his face full of unspoken suffering forever, and it better be the latter.      

“How do you feel? Like a new person?” Bakugou enquires in a news reporter’s tone, observing his partner like a proud creator.

“No, NO, I barely feel like seeing person, Katsuki, take these torture devices OFF ME NOW!” Kirishima couldn’t see clearly and his eyes sting so much that the tears are starting to gather in the corners of his eyes.  

“Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore,” Bakugou says, quickly ripping the falsies off of Kirishima’s eyes and holding them up carefully like dangerous explosives.

“Oh thank fuck” Kirishima exhales with feeling, rubbing his eyes viciously.

“Hey, you’re smudging it, Ei! Anyway, I still have some pictures,” Bakugou takes his phone out again and holds it in front of Kirishima’s face again for him to look. “You look beautiful. Black eyes was right. Your eyes are gorgeous, Eijirou.” Bakugou’s voice is soft and warm and Kirishima peeks over his knuckles to look at the pictures too. He does look a bit disoriented, but thankfully the pictures do not reflect the amount of discomfort he was feeling, so they turned out fine. The fake eyelashes, that’s what those torture devices were, look pretty decent, actually, but with them on Kirishima feels like he doesn’t quite look like himself.

“It looks better without them, though, more like you,” Bakugou voices Kirishima’s thoughts. “But still gorgeous. Sorry for them, by the way. I’ll make it up to you,” Bakugou leans in and kisses Kirishima’s cheek, soft and sweet and full of unspoken feeling, so Kirishima relents and moves his hands away so Bakugou can kiss him properly. They part silently, just resting their foreheads together.

“I love you,” Bakugou says softly, “And also, I’m posting the pics in the group chat. The world has to see your beauty,” Bakugou leans back suddenly, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“You are NOT!” Kirishima jumps from the chair, already imagining the wave of 200+ messages he is about to receive from the squad.

“Watch me,” Bakugou drops over his shoulder, already sprinting towards their bedroom, phone in hand.

Kirishima has no other option than to chase after him.  

Please consider giving it a reblog if you can because tumblr doesn’t want to show my works under any tagsヾ（＾ヮ＾)ﾉ

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[im-a-writer-sometimes]

Terrible Things (Bucky Barnes x reader)

A/N: This imagine is based off of Terrible Things by Mayday Parade (although I changed the lyrics a bit to make it fit the story) and my heart actually sputtered out and died while writing this (sorry in advance if your heart dies too)

---

By the time I was your age I'd give anything / To fall in love truly was all I could think / That's when I met your father the boy of my dreams / The most beautiful man that I'd ever seen

You stared like a madwoman at the man who had just entered your coffee shop, blushing incessantly when he looked your way and smiled the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. He waited in line with a group of others, casually chatting. You couldn't help but glance his way, barely paying any attention to the customers you were serving. His dark hair was knotted in a loose bun and his eyes, Jesus Christ, his eyes were like an icy winter sunrise gleaming off a morning snow. You caught yourself staring again and looked away, snapping your attention back to the customer in front of you.

"Hot chocolate, please."

You looked up and met his ice-blue, momentarily lost in them before snapping out of it and smiling kindly at him.

"What size?" You asked, trying to sound less nervous than you were.

"Just a small."

"Could I have a name for the order?"

"Bucky."

Bucky. You smiled. A cute name for a cute guy.

"Thanks, you're not too bad yourself."

Holy shit you just said that out loud. You tried to cover up the horror on your face but it was futile, and he chuckled, leaving a tip before moving toward the pick up station. You smiled, gaining a small bit of confidence, before writing something on his cup and passing it down the line.

The next customer cleared their throat, clearly growing impatient and you turned your attention to them.

Bucky smiled at his son, as you watched on, softly gazing at the pair with a faint smile on your lips.

"Mikey, no. You cannot eat the crayon."

You chuckled softly, your eyes starting to water with the love you felt for them.

"But it looks yummy."

Bucky laughed at this, pulling the crayon from his grasp.

He said, "Girl, can I tell you a wonderful thing? / I can't help but notice your staring at me / I probably shouldn't say this, but I really believe / I can tell by your eyes that your in love with me" / Now son, I'm only telling you this because life can do terrible things.

"An order for... for Bunky?... yeah, Bunky."

You chuckled to yourself, searching for the stranger in the crowd. He laughed out loud and came to claim his drink, eying you with faux annoyance.

It wasn't long before your shift was over, and you left the counter, slipping off your apron and checking your phone. After a few minutes, you decided to make yourself a coffee for the way home.

"What's your name?" You nearly jumped at the deep voice, looking up to meet those pale blue orbs.

"Y/N."

"Ah, Y/N, I'm Bunky I don't think we've met," he said, a playful air to his tone.

You laughed looking back down at your hands, which were pouring creamer into your coffee.

"I thought you'd appreciate that," you chuckled.

"Oh, I did. It was cute."

You laughed again, securing a lid on your cup.

"Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

You looked up, startled.

"I... ummm... Sure, why not." As if anticipating your answer, he slid you a piece of paper with his number on it.

"Alright, well, text me. I'll see you later, Y/N."

"So long, Bunky."

Bucky and Mikey sat at a booth, both on the same side as they aggressively played tic tac toe on the kids menu Mikey had.

"Ha! I won! You suck, Dad!"

"You wound me, Son. I call for a rematch."

You watched, a smile in you eyes as they went at it again.

"How do you always win?" Bucky sighed, throwing his crayon down.

"I learned from the best Dad."

They both shared a cute glance before laughing out loud, Bucky rifling his hair.

Now most of the time we'd have too much to drink / We'd laugh at that stars and we'd share everything / Too young to notice and too dumb to care / Life was a story that couldn't compare

"Scooch your fat ass, Barnes."

You heard him groan beside you, making more room.

"You're such a pain in my ass," Bucky said, trying hard to sound serious.

You two lay on the bed of your truck, parked in the middle of some field, stargazing. It was cheesy, but it was still cute. You laid beside him, smiling as he snaked his arm around you.

"Look, it's the Little Dipper," you said, pointing up at the star formation.

"Known as Ursa Minor to intellectuals like me."

You jabbed him with you elbow, laughing when he pretended to grunt in pain.

"You wound me."

You both lay in silence for a while staring at the sky, admiring the view. Or at least you were. With your eyes trained on the stars, you didn't see Bucky staring at you, eyes filled with admiration and love.

"Michael Steven Barnes, get your ass down here."

Mikey trudged down the stairs, sure to make his displeasure evident.

"What do you want?"

Now thirteen-year-old Mikey was a spitting image of his father, with dark hair and light eyes.

"I asked you to do the dishes," he said, jaw clenching.

"So?"

"They're not done," Bucky grumbled.

"I have homework."

"Okay, fine. Then finish your homework and then come down and finish the dishes."

Mikey opened his mouth to protest, but his father raised a hand, telling him it wasn't up for discussion.

You watched as Mikey stomped back into his bedroom, grumbling under his breath as he did so.

He said, "Girl can I tell you a wonderful thing / I made you a present with paper and string / Open with care now I'm asking you please / You know that I love you, will you marry me?"

You stared at the little white stick, an unbelieving smile on your face. 

Pregnant. 

Pregnant. 

Holy shit. Suddenly, you heard the door open and Bucky walked in, greeting you before kicking his shoes off.

"How was your day, honey?" He asked, nonchalant.

"i'M PREGNANT." It kind of busted out of you all at once and neither of us were prepared. Bucky's eyes went wide before a smile graced his face.

"yoU'RE PREGNANT?! HOLY SHIT!" You both danced around the living room for what seemed like hours, until you both collapsed on the couch, Bucky peppering kisses along your skin. "I love you so fucking much."

"Babe, don't curse in front of the baby!" He broke out into stupid grin, kissing you again.

Now son, I'm only telling you this because life can do terrible things / You'll learn one day, I hope and I pray that God shows you differently

"Can you tell me about Mom?" Bucky head jerked up to see Mikey standing awkwardly by the doorway, hands fidgeting nervously.

"One sec." Reaching behind him, Bucky pulled a photo album off the bookshelf and motioned for his son to sit next to him.

"Your mother was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, no joke."

Mikey smiled, looking at the picture his father opened up to. You watched, unseen. You remembered when that picture was taken. It was a few hours after he had proposed; you were both wasted in the company of good friends. A smile washed over your face.

"What happened?"

The grin wiped off of Bucky's face as he opened his mouth to explain.

I said, "Boy can I tell you a terrible thing / It seems that I'm sick and I've only got weeks / Please don't be sad now I truly believe / You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me."

You both stared at the doctor, no one brave enough to move.

Cancer. Terminal cancer.

You had so little time. Bucky and you shared a glance. Mikey wasn't even a year old, and he would grow up without a mother. No one said it, but it's what they were all thinking. You choked back a sob, standing up sharply and exiting the room, Bucky following behind. Once you had left the room, you collapsed into his arms, letting the tears come. You could tell Bucky was crying too, both of you completely struck to the bone with fear, and despair, and a sense of urgency. The night was spent in silent discomfort. Bucky clinging to you every chance he could get. You held Mikey, staring down at his eyes, his father's eyes. Tears rolled freely down your face, and when one plopped onto Mikey's plump little cheek, you wiped it off, stroking your fingers along his face.

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you whispered, "I'll always be watching over you, love."

Slow, so slow, he fell to the ground on his knees

"Do you have everything? Clothes, books? Toothbrush? Do you have your toothbrush?"

Mikey chuckled.

"Yes, Dad. You can stop freaking out now." Bucky's face softened.

"Off to college... Mom would be proud of you," he said, his voice barely audible above the bustle of the airport.

"Mom would be proud of both of us."

You could see the tears forming in both of their eyes, and you felt the sobs forming in the back of your throat as they embraced. You were proud.

So don't fall in love, there's just too much to lose / If you're given the choice, then I beg you to choose / To walk away, walk away, don't let her get you / I can't bear to see the same happen to you

"How are you feeling?" Bucky asked, eying you as you sat up in your hospital bed. You just shook your head, telling him you didn't want to talk about the pain. He came to sit next to you on the itchy sheets, opening up his arms. You gladly fell into them, not having the energy to cry.

"I just want you to know... that it's okay, after I'm gone, to... I won't..."

"Shhhh," Bucky quieted you, pulling you closer.

"I just want you to find happiness," you said looking up at him.

"Princess, you are my happiness."

Now son, I wish I could tell you this...

Mikey looked out of place, dressed in black. Sympathetic glances were directed at him, knowing he was too young. You were too young. But most of the glances were aimed toward Bucky, who didn't even try to hide the red puffy eyes and shaking hands. No one dared to look at him, few offered their condolences, not knowing what to say. He was alone. Him and his son, not even two, would be alone.

Because life can do terrible things

[hasbihallarcomebackhome-blog]

Getting My hair growth shampoo To Work

We’d really like to listen to your remarks regarding hair loss shampoos. We want to hear what you think and we guarantee to reply promptly. Because caffeine can counteract the detrimental results of testosterone that result in male pattern baldness, we advise you buy a shampoo merchandise which contains caffeine to improve the overall health of the hair and scalp. Which a single is healthier? That’s a tough call and, devoid of attempting to dodge the problem, our perspective is that you could’t go Improper with both one particular. The massive 3 is often a vintage Edition of a fantastic all-around product or service and you must see a similar, or at the least really equivalent, benefits through the Big three and large five. Common hair growth goods and natural therapies for hair loss Hair loss commonly happens if the cycle of hair growth and hair shedding is disrupted. I’m inclined to work with Ultrax Labs’ Hair Surge. Can I use it day-to-day? I have oily hair and when I don’t clean my hair daily, They appear soiled and I also don’t truly feel comfortable. What’s in a name? Properly, that is determined by what or who you’re referring to, even so the title is meaningful when discussing Lipogaine’s Significant 5 All-Natural Shampoo (which differs from its Huge 3 possibility). https://twitter.com/steptoremedies/ (Propecia). It is a prescription drug accredited for men. You are taking it everyday being a capsule. Many Adult males having finasteride practical experience a slowing of hair loss, and many could demonstrate some new hair growth. You'll want to continue to keep using it to retain Added benefits. Finasteride may not function likewise for men about sixty. Possible Unwanted effects involve scalp discomfort, unwanted hair growth within the adjacent skin of your deal with and hands, and fast coronary heart amount (tachycardia). It is too early to convey if This is often Performing but interested to listen to what you think or no matter whether I must use something else. Thanks Every little thing you have to know with regards to the most effective shampoos for hair loss Hair loss in both Guys and women may perhaps range from mild and insignificant to significant. The truth is, Medical doctors now say baldness designs are inherited from a combination of lots of genes on both sides on the relatives. Usually there are some environmental aspects that occur into Enjoy, too. The most Superior hair regrowth treatment is done by using stem mobile therapy where by the pores of hair scalp are inserted with new stem cells to aid hair growth. It’s a little plant with berries that shows guarantee as a method to deal with hair loss (and it’s previously applied being an herbal treatment to take care of an enlarged prostate plus a reduced sexual intercourse travel). In get more info ’re not Unquestionably guaranteed the reason for your hair loss is male pattern baldness then you need to consult with using your medical doctor.

Considerations To Know About hair loss

The best way to try to eat? Sprinkle some floor flaxseed on your own salads, or increase them towards your smoothies, or when building bread/naan/rotis. You can even make mouth watering flaxseed chutney. Wikimedia Commons 14/ You'll find only a few proven ways in which We all know can handle baldness, but experts are still seeking new cures. As SFRP1 induces catagen period Significantly before ordinary, this reveals that CsA is a successful inhibitor with the protein. Because https://en.search.wordpress.com/?src=organic&q=hair+regrowth implies that your natural environment (diet, Life-style etc) triggers baldness, and as humans We now have a unique benefit in that we are able to constantly adjust our setting. Certainly one of the original scientific studies looked at the impact of RU58841 on follicular regrowth in macaques (monkeys). So as to be healthier, our physique desires the ideal pH harmony. As I’m absolutely sure you are able to think about, Should the pH is wrong (too acidic or far too alkaline) then your body doesn’t really functionality really effectively. The number 1 purpose I like to recommend versus Finasteride’s use, even so, is that there are all-natural treatment strategies that are just as (sometimes more) helpful at halting hair loss and inducing hair growth. Even further more, numerous of such approaches can be employed indefinitely, and many may perhaps even cure Source. As should be to be anticipated, the combination treatment proved to become the simplest at enhancing hair count, as well as hair mass (not demonstrated in the above graph). Researchers are starting to inch nearer to locating a cure for the lacking hair difficulty. But Meanwhile, here are some established methods to avoid baldness, and aid grow again dropped hair. Right before we dive into a few of the specific treatments I initially want to explain somewhat more about hair loss (sample baldness) what it is, and why it takes place. The traditional dogma is the fact that a hormone identified as DHT attacks the hair follicles, slowly but surely leading to them to wither and die, through a course of action often known as hair follicle miniaturization. Irrespective of whether blocking DHT with effective (and horrible) chemicals or with derivatives from plants there could be side effects (plus the method not getting specifically effective.) There is also the secondary have an effect on to think about. This really is when the allergic response can direct directly to hair follicle miniaturization mainly because it will cause inflammation inside the scalp which narrows the opening through which the strand of hair grows. Also, One's body wants vitamin C to produce a protein known as collagen — a significant Portion of hair framework.

The Definitive Guide to hair regrowth

Tension may cause plenty of hair loss. Test heading out for light walks, meditate and unwind. Pampering yourself and remaining pleased. This is tough once you see clumps of hair falling out, nevertheless will not be concerned and tell yourself your hair will grow out. Staying joyful will do miracles for your hair. Even men who never "go bald" slim out relatively over time. Compared with Individuals with reversible telogen shedding, Those people with typical male-sample hair loss Will not detect A lot hair popping out; They simply see that it isn't there anymore. Guys should not have to manage dry pores and skin less than their beard. White, flaky and itchy beard dandruff ... Hair-fiber powders: Coloured, powdery fiber sprinkles are commercially out there and may go to camouflage balding locations. These colored sprinkles have special Attributes that help them connect to hair and provides a fuller appearance. Toppik is one particular company of those products and can be found on the net. This issue is unusual in healthier Grown ups. Bald places typically clearly show broken-off hairs accompanied by a dermatitis. Oral antifungals can penetrate the hair roots and cure the an infection, after which hair grows again. Sharing https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KbW9CllaGhQ or combs and brushes may possibly transmit tinea capitis. Finasteride (brand name identify Propecia) could be the closest to a hair loss cure pill that experts have uncovered to this point. more info from stepto remedies is a DHT hair loss cure. DHT is made when five alpha reductase converts testosterone, and Propecia has long been observed to be a good inhibitor of DHT by stopping this method from going on. Immediately after replication, they inject it back into the scalp where it is necessary. RepliCel has finished a stage 1 scientific demo and will enroll a hundred and sixty male individuals with delicate to moderate hair loss for their Phase two demo. In other information RepliCel announced a study collaboration with College of British Columbia. They target is to produce a map with protein and gene expression of hair follicle cells that can help RepliCel even further increase their cell therapies i.e. hair loss avoidance solutions. If you Certainly have to dye your hair, check out a natural henna dye, which can in fact nourish your hair in place of harming it. I in no way have time to accomplish every one of the hair masks or all of that crap with school, but I’m taking into consideration using the flip your hair ahead strategy. As a real testament to the strength of all-natural botanicals and herbs, the organization even offers a one hundred% dollars-again ensure so there is not any hazard to purchasing and hoping this hair growth solution. They aren’t expanding your total hair rely, just shifting throughout the hair you have still left. On top of that, it doesn’t halt upcoming hair loss and occasionally supplemental transplants are required. Having said that, it seems that this may only cure hair loss that is a results of inflammation which include alopecia areata. Small is known about its Added benefits for treatment of androgentic alopecia. Alongside Using these Necessities, this high quality shampoo is hypoallergenic, sulfate and paraben-cost-free, and is created without having severe chemicals or irritants. The result is that it restores the natural pH harmony of your respective scalp and stimulates growth. Healthline shares five suggestions to maintain your locks healthful and robust all through menopause, when hormonal imbalances normally cause hair loss.

How hair regrowth can Save You Time, Stress, and Money.

https://www.pinterest.com/healthhomeremedies/steptoremedies/ is the formidable hair loss shampoo. Just one major cause to like this is because it’s ideal for all sorts of hair, which includes curly, straight, frizzy, tangly or efficiently thin. This shampoo is usually Light on colour handled hair and received’t spoil your highlights. Thank you Minaz. Although that’s incredibly disheartening. How with regard to the refrigerator? And Next, how will I notify if it’s long gone undesirable? Will it be the smell or will it get started wanting different? I’m inquiring because I created many of the egg shampoo utilizing 2 eggs, and apart from each of the ingredients mentioned in the leading recipe, I added peppermint necessary oil, olive oil, along with a spoon of almond oil. Additionally, One's body requirements vitamin C to make a protein known as collagen — a very important part of hair structure. You gained’t have to have any conditioner following washing hair with shikakai mainly because it’s naturally moisturising. With just one use, you are able to expect a wholesome scalp and tender, shiny and bouncy hair. step toremedies and ponytails can pull really hard plenty of on hairs to make them fall out. If this transpires, it's best to choose hairstyles that set significantly less pressure on hair. Accomplishing this sooner can help to stay away from long lasting injury. At the end of the working day, The easiest method to get these nutrients is by eating a balanced, authentic foodstuff-dependent diet plan that includes plenty of nutrient-dense foods. These items are often harmless but commonly not scientifically proven and as a consequence probably worthless. To slow down hair loss, you will discover not less than four possibly efficient, essential choices. These contain remedies like Minoxidil, and Propecia, that happen to be for long-phrase use. Halting these medications won't manage to worsen or exacerbate the prior hair loss. The affected individual will simply just revert on the condition he would've been in experienced he hardly ever started treatment. Telogen (Shedding Phase) - it is a resting stage, at the end of which your hair is unveiled and it falls out, i.e., the resting hair stays inside the follicle till it is pushed out because of the growth of a brand new anagen hair. Based on your issue, the general practitioner might immediate you to a dermatologist, a trichologist, or maybe an endocrinologist In the event the hair loss is linked to hormonal imbalance. You may also be referred into a psychologist in the event you are afflicted by Trichotillomania. "Sonic hedgehog can convert resting hair into growing hair," Cotsarelis says. "We really Do not realize it's whole part, however, if it controls follicle dimensions and growth, it may be some thing a treatment is likely to be based close to." I know shampoo only stays in your hair for a few minutes, but it surely tends to make this type of huge change within the health and fitness of one's hair. "The most effective candidate for hair restoration surgical procedure has had hair loss for numerous many years but has stabilized and isn't getting rid of far more hair speedily," Kaufman says. "Somebody needs to have practical anticipations of what can be carried out to give them a natural showing hair line." Excessive dryness attributable to sulfates in frequent shampoos may cause hair to tangle and come to be thinner. When that happens, hair loss is inescapable. Sulfates and comparable chemical substances also lead to the scalp to dry out and flake, harming hair follicles. Tinea could be the professional medical word for fungal infection, and capitis means head. Tinea capitis is fungal infection with the scalp that for the most part influences school-age youngsters. Tinea capitis is a lot more prevalent in black African or African-American scalps.

hair loss in women Can Be Fun For Anyone

We preserve our audience current on what is Doing the job, what is not, and what is actually on the horizon. Whether or not it's an evaluation of the next new matter, or development in the direction of a hair loss cure, you'll be the first to grasp. We’ve talked about the part of DHT and hair loss in this together with other posts; it’s merely that essential. Ensure that no matter what nutritional supplement you end up picking contains DHT blockers. Soon after the color tragedy, I keep significantly from artificial hair colors. I've only a few gray hair, And that i use henna to deal with my greys. Finasteride (brand title Propecia) is definitely the closest to your hair loss cure tablet that researchers have uncovered to date. That is a DHT hair loss cure. DHT is created when five alpha reductase converts testosterone, and Propecia has been observed to get an effective inhibitor of DHT by stopping this method from happening. Several of the medications accustomed to conquer back most cancers regretably may result in your hair to fall out. website is sort of a nuclear bomb,” says Dr. Glashofer. “It destroys quickly dividing cells. Meaning cancer cells, but in addition speedily dividing cells like hair.” Rated the most beneficial shampoo for hair regrowth in 2017 and once again in 2018 by marketplace experts, Ultrax Labs Hair Surge can be a manufacturer that’s winning lots of awards for its exceptional-high-quality items. This business has manufactured fairly an effect on heads all over the place, and deserves to generally be at the top of our listing. How to proceed: Synthetic thyroid medication will manage the issue. When your thyroid ranges return to usual, so need to your hair. For those who’re a guy who hasn’t discovered ways to use hair gel however, it might be a good time to figure out ... Dropping your hair? It may well an uncomplicated take care of-like receiving more or less of a vitamin-or trickier to take care of. Start out Slideshow Every solution we aspect has actually been independently picked and reviewed by our editorial staff. In case you produce a obtain utilizing the back links incorporated, we may perhaps generate commission. Minoxidil, popularly often called brand name Rogaine, operates much differently than Propecia. It does not inhibit DHT, nonetheless it increases blood move and as a consequence nourishment to the scalp and hair follicles. This has become shown to revive dormant follicles to some balanced point out of growth in some buyers. What would transpire if you keep an elastic band stretched for several hours? It'll begin to shed the extend. Despite the fact that certain professional medical elements may be influencing your problems with hair loss and thinning, a straightforward change during the shampoo you utilize might make all the primary difference. And if you actually need to Participate in it Secure, acquire among the list of products and solutions having a dollars-again ensure. But our reviews of the best shampoos for hair growth can give you hope and enable you to locate the ideal solution for you personally. And The explanation was excessive fret or strain. Stress affects all of our overall body, and our hair is not any exception. Hardly ever-ending worry could cause a disproportionate number of hair to enter resting stage concurrently. Which causes youtube little herbs of hair popping out all of sudden.

Considerations To Know About hair loss treatment

When unsure, browse the usage suggestions found in your hair loss shampoo’s container. People recommendations are there to make certain you receive the very best final results from a shampoo with no causing damage to your scalp or hair. These beauty merchandise are available with no prescription, are rather affordable ($20-$40 variety), and quite Secure with minimal danger. Frequently these may be employed In combination with medical treatments like Rogaine, Propecia, and hair transplants, and they are an awesome non permanent evaluate to tide 1 over for Distinctive situations. A typical pores and skin situation, alopecia areata usually begins as only one quarter-sized circle of beautifully clean bald pores and skin. These patches usually regrow in 3 to six months without treatment. From time to time, white hair temporarily regrows and after that will become dark. These new hair loss cures appear promising, but will they seriously be a cure or just One more Propecia? Permit’s consider https://www.wikihow.com/Prevent-Hair-Loss and negatives of every approaching treatment. Nevertheless, consumers has to be cautious since Nizoral might cause irritation to your skin about the scalp if still left on for far too extensive. Males and women with sensitive skin really should surely be mindful when using this solid product or service, ensuring to generally totally rinse right after each individual use. It is possible to encourage hair growth by sustaining healthier hair through a very good eating plan and correct hair treatment. Particular herbs can assist make your hair grow faster, much too. Observed palmetto is hardly new; Indigenous Individuals have already been utilizing it as drugs and as being a food items supply for numerous many years. Non-scarring hair loss also comes about in cases the place There's Bodily or chemical harm to the hair shaft, causing breakage. At times, it might be necessary to do a biopsy of your scalp to differentiate these situations. Sometimes, a physician may pull a hair to look at the appearance from the hair shaft along with the proportion of growing hairs (anagen phase). This article will pay attention to the non-scarring sorts of hair loss. All that said, our primary consideration for choosing hair loss shampoos for our record was no matter if it made actual effects. We also admit that what might get the job done for someone may not work for one more, but we’re serious about the general image. This shampoo brings together the benefits of biotin, zinc, and coconut oil to deliver the growth of new hair although repairing slender, destroyed strands. This B-Complex Method stimulates hair follicles as a way to stimulate your hair to begin growing once more. The Ultrax Shampoo is back again. I’ve changed because they are usually not offered anymore. I’ll be updating the listing and adding far more hair loss shampoos shortly. Stay tuned. In via steptoremedies.com that quantities to about 80 million Adult males and forty million women currently suffering from hair loss. Obviously, a long lasting cure would decrease a huge proportion of the inhabitants.  For this reason, biotin is Employed in major natural shampoos for hair loss together with numerous beard vitamins to promote thicker facial hair. Pick an item which contains biotin to enjoy these Positive aspects and cover many of the bases. Significantly, the stuff will work, and it has garnered plenty of awareness due to the fact remaining introduced to the industry. It was rated the best “Shampoo for Hair Regrowth Stimulation” in 2016 and it is powerful for men and women (and is among just a few caffeinated hair shampoos designed for both equally sexes).

5 Simple Statements About hair growth vitamins Explained

You may or may not realize that The key reason why DHT causes the hair follicle miniaturization method is as the DHT brings about an immune response against the actual hair follicles in parts of the scalp that are genetically predisposed. Therefore https://www.facebook.com/steptoremedies/ , various scientific tests have already been performed over time. A new research, printed in 2014 by Aldhalimi et. al., researched the effects of Minoxidil on mice. The mice (of which there have been 20 in whole) were being shaved and their dorsal skin dyed to higher study hair growth. Avocado is great supply of Vitamin E and Additionally it is rich in the guts healthier monounsaturated fats. You could add it on your breakfast sald or Mix it right into a environmentally friendly smoothie. Immediately after two weeks return to your standard diet regime, apart from double the level of dairy you Generally consume for 3 days. Recall not to alter any other every day behavior around this period so we can easily isolate the allergic response When the hair loss that causes partial or complete baldness involves prescribed remedies and surgical treatments, the momentary or seasonal onset of hair loss is often treated by […] Whole grains are full of biotin together with iron, zinc and B vitamins. Biotin is needed for mobile proliferation and performs an important portion in making amino acids (protein) that happen to be expected on your hair to grow. Hair that's in excess of shoulder-length may be many several years previous (Sure, we have been discussing the lower component of your respective hair size). So, Keep in mind that it demands much more TLC than what a traditional conditioner could possibly give. Rather, a good hair mask can provide the appropriate type of pampering to the hair. Incorporate all components in the container within your option. Combine properly, and you'll want to blend comprehensively prior to Every single use. The main review on The subject was carried out in 2007, and it shows that software of tea tree oil can lead to a aspect outcome referred to as gynecomastia. This is a sign of antiandrogenic pursuits. In the 2 month level you might be ready to see and come to feel a change when you’ve followed my instructions appropriately. After the ‘unnatural’ part I’m about to provide you with the most effective technique to regrow hair, completely naturally by healing Your entire body and optimising your diet regime, Life style and setting for healthful hair growth. Sadly, hair fall treatment seems that RU58841 experimentation has ceased for that foreseeable future as a consequence of house legal rights transfer. It continues to be to generally be viewed irrespective of whether even further reports (specifically in human beings) will be carried out. I'm happy to determine that almost all things correlate, but Equilibrium is way more in depth and specifics and broader. I'm also beginning to follow the Plant paradox lectin avoidance nutrition. I hope to report very good results in 6 months. The transplant approach is often damaged into two measures. First, hair-bearing pores and skin is faraway from an area of the scalp generally known as the ‘donor internet site’. Second, the donor pores and skin and hair is then grafted on to the ‘receiver web-site’.

[endlessceaselessboundless]

Stranger in a Strange Land

[Disclaimer- I like SPN, but the last several seasons have been lacking for me, and so I have a lot of criticisms for the show. I am still so invested in the characters, so I’m gonna keep watching, but there are definitely things that could be done better. Also, my co-worker is not in the office today, so I’m shouting into the internet what I would normally be shouting at him. You have been warned.]

My top take-away from last night’s episode, and likely unpopular opinion (which I am chock full of), is that the strangers in question are in fact the writers of SPN. They entered the writing room and were like, “What is it you do here again? Write stuff down, anything we should know before we start? No? Ok, cool, we’ll just write whatever then!”

Ok, that’s a little unfair. It’s actually just Dabb. 

If I may get serious for a moment though. Supernatural is a show. It’s right there in the definition, please SHOW me what is going on with people, don’t just have them dump their emotional exposition all over the other characters and then have those characters react with their own perfectly reasonable emotional exposition. This is not how people work. This is not how teenagers (I’m gonna call Jack a teen, he’s beyond the baby stage by now) work, this is not how traumatized individuals work. Shit comes out sideways. SHOW IT TO ME COMING OUT SIDEWAYS. 

Show me how a shit ton of new responsibilities, old trauma’s, and a missing Dean impact SAM. He has lived exclusively with one other person for almost his entire adult life- Dean. So please SHOW me how Sam is handling, or even better, NOT handling, a very communal living situation with his undead mother, his father-figure-from-another-dimension, and his adopted demon son all in his space all the time all of a sudden! How are Sam’s feelings about all of this shit impacting how he is leading people, how he is searching for Dean, how he is making decisions. SHOW ME. 

Show me how Mary thinks she should be helpful in this new and just as complicated setting, what does she DO to comfort Sam? To help bear his new burdens? (Also, side note of wank, she can barely look at Lucifer’s vessel? Uh Mary, remind me what was so terrible that Lucifer did to you again? You like punched him in the face and then followed him around kitty litter land while he whined about wanting his son and THEN MICHAEL tortured you, but what did Lucifer do exactly? I was not buying her level of disturbance there, it seemed unnecessary, and like even if she was uncomfortable, there’s no way in hell that her discomfort would reach the level of SAM’S MFing discomfort with the vessel of his almost lifelong tormentor, so having her mention it only served to highlight the disparity. It highlighted again Mary’s lack of basic human emotion and/or any interest in supporting her son. Which I would like to clarify is not a reflection on her as a woman, she’s not real, but rather on the very real DUDE writing her character. Dabb, please reflect for like a minute before you write things down.Ok, I’m done, sorry that was so salty.) 

Show me what Jack does to try and make himself feel like he still matters, and by that I mean more than getting hit once by Bobby and then going straight into another bucket load of expositional dialogue about it! Confused, hurt teenagers searching for their identities in the world do not just have meaningful conversations with every person they see. Jack had defined himself in the AU World through the use of his powers to defeat Michael, basically everything Jack had, the person he thought he was is now gone. He is going through some shit, and I don’t want to hear him talk about the shit, I want to SEE him go THROUGH it. How are Jack’s feelings about himself impacting how he interacts with everyone else, how he attempts to help find Dean. SHOW ME. 

Show me a completely and utterly wrecked Nick. Like if that really is Nick, and not just Lucifer masquerading as Nick, (which is almost what I hope it is at this point, separate post, maybe later), then that guy should be a pile of useless trauma right now. That guy should be confused, and agitated, and nonsensical. That guy should NOT be like, “Oh, hey Sam. Yeah this wound is itchy.” 

SMH. 

The themes and everything they are creating for the season are all great. I AM HERE for the whole “what do you want?” storyline. Cas and Dean and Sam have been dodging this question for YEARS, in much the same way that Michael points out the other people dodging it and I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE IF WE WILL GET TO THE TRUTH OF IT FINALLY! 

So that stuff was interesting, but honestly, I was not thrilled with the execution of the episode. It was not interesting. Why was that demon named Kip? Seriously? That’s what we’re dealing with now? Demons named Kip. Not. Feeling. It. 

I also initially enjoyed the back and forth between Cas and.....Kip (why?)....but it just dragged on when he was showing off for Sam. I felt like Sam should have just killed him mid-monologue, like the shark does to Sam Jackson in “Deep Blue Sea.” It’s all well and good that this demon (named Kip, really?) thinks he can hang with the big boys, but Sam is THE BIG BOY, and frankly he’s got A LOT OF WAAAAAAY MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO. I don’t see why this second rate demon, named, once again for the people in the back, Kip, like a small dog would be, deserves to take up so much of Sam’s time. I want some urgency. The show has lacked urgency for AGES and if anyone is feeling urgent about saving Dean it should be Sam. Ok, well it should be Cas, and for a hot minute right at the start I DID feel Cas’ urgency to find and save Dean. It just didn’t last very long before we were right back to tied to a chair Cas rolling his eyes at everyone else. Which has become ridiculously common, so much so that it would indeed have been more interesting for Sam to kill Kip (just, so dumb) right off the bat, yell at the other demons who would smoke out in terror, because also last time Dean was missing Sam was just on like a demon torture spree, so why did all these demons even agree to be in the same room with him (and a clearly ineffectual, wanna be demon named, of all things, Kip?). 

I know we all like talk about how Dean is this tough macho guy who’s actually like a soft baby duck on the inside. But uh, guys, you do realize that Sam is the opposite of that? He seems like this enlightened nice guy, who just wants to help, but underneath that he is a straight up, killing machine. Soulless Sam, Sam when he loses Dean to Gabriel in Season 3, Sam when he loses Dean to the MoC in Season 10, Sam who would kill Crowley without a second thought in Season 9. He’s been telling us who he is, is anyone paying attention? Not Dabb. 

[petculiars]

Why Would a Dog Have Blood Blisters on His Belly?

New Post has been published on https://www.petculiars.com/why-would-a-dog-have-blood-blisters-on-his-belly/

Why Would a Dog Have Blood Blisters on His Belly?

If you’ve ever noticed some strange black blisters on the abdomen of your dog, then you might have been pretty concerned. These types of black spots are known to vets as blood blisters. Although this black spot might look cancerous and will usually get most people alarmed, is it really a reason to stress over? Let’s find out what causes blood blisters on a dog’s belly.

What Exactly Are Blood Blisters on a Pet’s Belly?

The medical term for a blood blister on the belly is hematoma. This solid swelling is caused by the clotting of the blood in a certain area. It is basically the same as a pustule, but instead of being filled with pus, it has blood content. Most of the time it won’t show up only in the midsection of the dog’s body. It is actually more common on other parts of the dog’s body, like his ears.

You might also like my articles on what to do if your dog is stung by a bee, has diarrhea, or suffers from Cushing’s disease.

When located on the skin, it is actually easier to spot, because it is discolored and swells quite a bit. It can also become more visible if the dog starts to scratch it excessively, due to it being itchy. At the same time, if the blister is painful, the dog might show a sign of aversion to the touch around the area.

What is the Cause of Blood Blisters on Dogs?

Hematomas will usually show on a dog’s body due to blunt trauma or injury. When located around the ears, this type of hematoma will usually be caused either by too much scratching or by too much shaking of the head. A blood blister on the belly will basically be caused by a similar factor – either too much nibbling or intense scratching in the area.

A trauma of medium intensity might have caused a blood vessel to pop and the blood has nowhere to go due to the skin not piercing. What it does instead is get clogged and form a pocket right beneath the skin. Some skin conditions and even allergies can also cause these types of blisters.

Should You Go To The Vet When Noticing a Blood Blister?

Noticing a blood blister isn’t enough to know if it’s time to go to the vet or not. The signs given by your dog are also important when making this decision. Most of the time, a simple blood blister on the dog’s belly will be harmless and shouldn’t warrant a visit to the veterinarian. A simple blood blister that isn’t causing any pain should go away by itself after 48 hours or so. So, if you can’t see signs of your dog being in pain or discomfort, like whelping or whimpering, then just keep him under observation and see if everything is better after a day or two.

On the other hand, if things are on the opposite side and the dog is clearly restless or erratic in his behavior, then you might have to take him to the vet to have the blood blister checked out. Even if it turns out that the blister wasn’t something to worry about, the vet will at least give you guidance on what you should do.

Treatments for a Blood Blister?

Don’t lose any time figuring out the best treatment if your dog has a blood blister that doesn’t go away on its own in a few days. go to the vet instead as soon as possible for possible treatment. Depending on the exact location of the blister and its actual size, the vet might be able to drain it on the spot. Even though draining might fix the problem in the short term, the pocket might start to fill up with blood again after a short while. Depending on how severe the blister actually is, after draining it, the vet might also attach a temporary drain so that the blood can get cleared before it fills up the blister again. Surgery might also be needed in some cases where the blister is far from the skin or in more sensitive areas.

Keep in mind that a blood blister is an effect of another underlying cause, so you should address the root of the problem as well if you don’t want the blister to resurface. Depending on what the vet finds out, they might prescribe medication against skin conditions or parasites, to stop the dog from creating additional traumas due to excessive scratching.

If the blisters are situated around the ear area, then your vet could either have your pet wear a dog cone or bandage his ears to prevent him from scratching too much. Try your best not to let your dog scratch when you get home and give him the medication he needs. Bathing the pet periodically will also help, as well as cleaning his ears.