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bobohu4eva · 4 years ago

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Pink Lace - Final (M)

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader (feat. EXO members)

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, smut

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @strawbaeri-s @xiuweetbbh

Masterlist

When you woke up it was still dark. You looked over at the clock, which read 4:42am. Of course you would wake up in the middle of the night, you fell asleep around 7 already after your activities with Baekhyun, who still had an arm slung around you. You tried to fall back asleep, but it felt too warm and you had already slept for a while. Oh well.

You attempted to remove Baekhyun's arm from your waist gently without waking him, but as soon as you were lifting the limb off of yourself he was groaning, and instead wrapped another arm around you, pulling your back flush to his chest. You were learning he could be very stubborn.

“Baekhyun,” you whispered, “It’s too hot.”

He sleepily mumbled something incoherent and kept his arms locked around you, at which point you knew you’d have to take matters into your own hands, so you pinched his arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” He whined as he withdrew his arms, massaging the spot you had dug your fingers into.

“You’re smothering me, you’re too warm.”

Quickly Baekhyun jumped out of bed and walked across the room to flip a switch and you felt the fan above you kick on. He jumped right back into bed, and wrapped his arms back around you.

You rolled your eyes at him but eventually cuddled back up to him as well. “You’re se needy.”

“Hmm you like it though.” His voice was rough and low in your ear, and he turned you around to face him.

With only a bit of moonlight peeking through the curtains it was difficult to make out his face, but eventually your eyes adjusted enough to see him looking back at you. You could see a lazy smile on his lips and his eyes looked heavy, he looked cute like this.

“Can’t sleep? I was surprised you fell asleep so early.”

“You wore me out.” You pouted in defense.

He grinned, of course he knew why you’d passes out so fast, but it was still amusing to him to tease you about it. “I know baby, I was tired too.”

You turned back around to get comfortable again, and felt Baekhyun’s hands snake around your body until they were crossed over your chest, one boob in each hand.

“Um, Baekhyun?”

“What?” He mumbled softly in your ear. “They’re soft and warm and perfectly hand-sized. Feels nice.”

You let out a sigh but didn’t move his hands away, to which he let out a pleased hum. Though you’d found it strange at first you slowly grew to like the feeling. It felt more comforting than sexual, and combined with the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back you were slowly drifting off again.

A few hours later Baekhyun was the one waking you up, as rays of sunlight started to peek through the blinds.

“Good morning sunshine.” You opened your eyes to see his face hovering above your own looking down at you expectantly.

Much to his disappointment you groaned and turned around to bury your head back in the pillow.

“Come on y/n we’ve been in bed for 12 hours, time to get up.”

Before you could object he was scooping your naked self up from the mattress and placing you back down at the edge of the bed with him.

“You’re so mean.” You whined as you rubbed your eyes and looked around. Baekhyun disappeared into his closet, returning with a pair of sweatpants on and one of his white button downs for you to wear, tossing it onto the bed next to you.

He watched as you put it on and stood up. It fit you more like a dress, hitting you mid-thigh. Baekhyun could barely contain his excitement seeing you in his clothes, and immediately had to come shower your face with kisses as he told you how pretty you looked. You couldn’t help but admire the bare skin of his toned torso as well.

Eventually the two of you made your way into his kitchen for something to eat and you finally got to take a good look at the rest of his home, and the more you looked around, the more you fell in love with the place. Although it wasn’t a particularly large space, it was filled with beautiful things that made it feel grown up and expensive. His walls were covered in unique art and all of his furniture went together perfectly. It was a massive step up from the bare one bedroom apartments with a mattress on the floor you usually got when going out with guys your age.

You looked through Baekhyun’s pantry and offered to make pancakes for the both of you, to which he gladly agreed.

You’d expected him to just sit and wait while you prepared the food but he insisted on staying in the kitchen and ‘helping’, which really just meant making excuses to touch you any time he could.

It was when he grabbed your ass mid pancake-flip, causing you to nearly launch the slab of dough across the kitchen, that you turned around and placed a playful slap on his shoulder. “You really are acting like a horny teenager!”

Instead of arguing he simply wrapped his arms around your waist as you kept cooking, head resting atop of yours. “Mmmh only for you babe.”

It went on like that until the pancakes were done, only occasionally he would slip a hand up under your (his) shirt to squeeze a boob as well.

Baekhyun couldn’t help himself, now that he’d had you and he knew he could touch you all he wanted he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Your soft skin beneath his palms just felt so good, he couldn’t get enough.

“Baekhyun, you have to let go of me so we can eat.” You teased as he held on to you even as you grabbed both plates to bring them to the dining room. He let out a sound of displeasure but took his hands off of you and took his plate of food.

Despite your teasing, you were growing more and more fond of this Baekhyun. His messy hair, the lazy look on his face, how cuddly he was acting, it felt so sweet and relaxed and comfortable with him like this. You couldn’t help thinking this was something you could get used to.

“This place is really nice.” You commented as you started to cut into your pile of pancakes.

“You like it? You’re welcome here anytime.”

You smiled at the idea of staying there more often, not only was it a beautiful home but being able to spend time with him like this felt too good to pass up.

“Sorry for making you miss work by the way, Mia told me you wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah it’s alright, I’m still doing ok right now anyway and I can just go back next weekend.”

You noticed his face shift to something different and he swallowed, no longer smiling. He was worried you would say something like that. “Do you remember what I asked you at the club the weekend before the semester started?” He was looking down at the table now. He looked scared.

“What do you mean?”

He was scared. The idea of you going back to work bothered him, a lot, he couldn’t deny it, but he knew you wouldn’t take kindly to him telling you not to go. What had happened two weeks earlier was still fresh in his mind and the thought of you being around men like that again made him feel sick. He felt like he had to at least bring it up.

“I don’t want this to sound rushed, but I really like you a lot, and I, um... You don’t have to go back. If you don’t want to, that is, I can take care of things.”

“Baekhyun...”

“I really meant it when I said I could take care of you, if that’s what you want, I just can’t stand the though of something bad happening to you there again.” His voice got smaller and smaller as he spoke, until it was barely a whisper.

You paused for a while to think before speaking again. “Do you not want me to go back?”

You had been wondering if this was coming, but you didn’t expect it so soon, and as much as you did like Baekhyun, becoming completely dependent on him still scared you.

Your eyes met from across the table and you could see how anxious he was as he slowly shook his head in response. “We don’t need to go there to see each other anymore, and the idea of you being alone there isn’t something I like to think about. I know I can’t tell you what to do, but please, if you do, be careful.”

“So, what exactly are you thinking then?”

“You could stop working and I could help financially whenever you want, and you would be my girlfriend.”

Admittedly you did feel your heart flutter at the word girlfriend but you were still bothered by his offer to keep giving you money.

“Wouldn’t you basically be my sugar daddy then?”

His face turned into a deep frown. “I’m not just paying you to have sex with me, you know you mean more to me than that.” The look of genuine hurt on his face quickly had you regretting your words. You felt like you had just kicked a puppy. In the back of your mind though, you still didn’t want him to give you money, even if he expected nothing in return.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just don’t want to take more of your money. I don’t want you to feel like you have to pay to be with me.”

He took both of your hands from across the table and held them in his own, his eyes looking into yours intently. “The whole reason I don’t mind spending spending money on you is because I know you don’t expect me to. I know you’re not here for that, which makes me want to spoil you even more.”

“I’m just scared that if something happens and you decide you don’t want me anymore I won’t be able to repay you.” The words came out of you in what was hardly even a whisper. You knew the words would hurt him, that he wouldn’t like hearing your doubts after having just had such a magical time together. It felt like you were about to ruin everything if you weren’t careful with your words, but you had to be honest about your concerns.

“You don’t honestly think I would ever ask you to pay me back...” The way his expression tuned sadder and more desperate with every word you spoke killed your appetite and had your heart feeling like it was stuck in your throat. He squeezed your hands to make you look back up at him before continuing. “I haven’t felt the way I feel about you in a very long time, I didn’t think it was possible for me to be this into someone at all anymore. Please believe me when I say I’m not going to disappear. Even if I lose my job because of this, I’ll stay by your side until you decide you don’t want me in your life anymore. I haven’t wanted anything this badly in years, y/n, please I, I-.”

He cut himself off before he could get it out. As much as he wanted to say it, he knew now wasn’t the right time.

The way he was staring back at you, still tightly gripping your hands was enough to make you feel like you were about to cry from pure guilt. Seeing him look at you like this was heartbreaking. The idea of being his was everything you could ever ask for, to get to be with him the way you had been the last 16 hours and to get to enjoy his company and his touches whenever you wanted. It felt like a dream. You did want it, to be with him like this, and although it scared you to put so much trust in him so quickly, it was impossible for you to look him in the eyes and deny it to him when you knew he was being truthful.

“Okay.” It came out so quietly you first thought he didn’t hear you, but his face told you that he did. “I won’t go back.”

His face lit up immediately and he grinned back at you widely. “I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll do everything I can to make you the happiest girl alive.”

“But Baekhyun-” You paused when you saw his smile quickly fade. “Only what I need. I don’t want you to give me anything more, or I’ll feel guilty.”

“What about gifts? If I see something I think you would like could I give it to you as a present?”

You rolled your eyes, “I guess, as long it’s nothing too crazy.”

Both of you paused, and he swallowed. “Can I ask why you’re having such a hard time trusting me? You know I’ve never lied to you.”

It was true. You really had no reason not to trust him with how open and honest he was. Never once did any of his words or actions towards you feel disingenuous.

You sighed. It wasn’t something you liked to think back on. “The last time I had a real boyfriend was over a year ago. He seemed so charming and kind and perfect. I let him in too quickly and was head over heels in love when about 6 months in I found out he’d been going to parties and sleeping with other people the entire time.”

“And the two of you were exclusive?” You could only nod. It felt shameful. The fact that you’d been so easily strung along by the man when he was obviously just a charming fuckboy at the end of the day. “What an asshole.”

You shrugged. “It is what it is I guess.”

“He was an idiot to not see what I see in you. Any man should be thrilled to have someone as wonderful and as beautiful as you. He’s missing out.” Heat spread through your cheeks and a smile forced its way onto your lips despite you trying to fight it. “I can’t say I’m upset it didn’t work out, because now I get to have you here, but you also just deserve so much better than that. I promise you you’re the only one that I want. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Eventually you let the warmth of his sweet words win you over and you stopped holding back your grin. “I know.”

The smile returned to his face and he stood up and rounded the dining room table to pull you up as well, and into a kiss. This was the sweetest, most romantic one yet, as he cupped your face and let his lips melt into yours.

“So... does this mean you’re my boyfriend now? You asked as you pulled away and rested your forehead against his.

“If you want me to be, then yes.”

You quickly nodded and before you knew it you were being swept off your feet as he picked you up bridal style and carried you to the couch in the living room. He laid you down and found his place back on top of you, kissing every inch of your face as you giggled and gently pushed at his chest.

He leaned back to look down at you in his shirt, hair disheveled, with a pink tint to your cheeks. “I can’t believe after all this time, you’re really mine now.”

With a surge of blind confidence you sat up and positioned yourself on his lap, straddling him. You looked into his surprised eyes before cupping his face and bringing it to yours, as if to confirm his statement.

“All yours.” You whispered after placing a soft kiss to his lips.

He shuddered beneath you and you felt his arms wrap around you and pull your chest flush to his. “I’ve dreamt of you saying those words to me so many times, you have no idea.”

You were becoming more and more aware of your lack of underwear as Baekhyun shifted you over his lap again, and this time you felt his hardness against you with the only thing separating you being the fabric of his sweats.

You inhaled sharply at the sudden feeling, before teasing him, “Is emotional intimacy turning you on?”

“Everything turns me on when it’s you.” He smiled back at you lazily before bringing his hands up to the collar of your (his) shirt and beginning to unbutton it. “As much as I love my clothes on you I think you look even more beautiful wearing nothing at all.”

He was really, truly, obsessed with your body. In the best kind of way. You were like a piece of precious art to him. The pink tint that moved across your chest, the curves, the softness, the way your skin felt beneath his hands was just perfect. He needed to feel and to memorize every inch of you.

“Can I fuck you, princess?”

“Since you asked so nicely.” You giggled, making fun of his words from the night prior.

He returned a dopey, blissed-out smile and his hands kept working on the buttons until he was taking it off of you completely, once again leaving you naked. His eyes scanned your body as one hand slowly made its way from your neck, down to your breasts, along the side of your waist and then finally between your legs.

“You make fun of me for being hard when you’re this wet?”

You let out a small yelp as two of his slender fingers entered you, curling against just the right spot that would have you losing your mind.

“Thought you said you wanted to fuck me.” You taunted impatiently, slipping a hand down to pull him out of his sweats.

As you wrapped you hand around him you felt his breath get stuck in his throat and the movement of his fingers inside you came to a halt before they left you completely.

“If you want it so bad then go ahead.”

He was right, there was nothing stopping you, so you lined him up with your entrance and sank down until he was fully inside you, hitting even deeper than before. His head hit the back of the couch and you couldn’t help but admire his parted lips and the slight knit in his eyebrows at the feel of you wrapped around him.

“So tight and wet, so perfect, like you were made for me.”

He soon had his hands on your ass and guided your motions, rolling your body against his. With every push of your hips against his own you let out small whimpers which grew louder and louder as he started to pick up the pace, bouncing you on top of him as he thrusted up into you.

When he leaned forward to take a nipple between his lips you knew you were done for, and seconds later you were shuddering around him as the tension in your body was released causing you to cry out his name, and you were grateful that he lived alone.

His movements didn’t stop even once your high wore off, and you found yourself grasping onto him tighter than before as oversensitivity took over. It felt like too much but you could tell by the way he was shaking beneath you and the movement of his hips was becoming inconsistent that he was close.

Just before he stilled inside you he brought his lips to yours for a messy, heated kiss before releasing inside of you as he groaned into your mouth. His hands were gripping your hips so tightly, holding you so firmly against his that you knew it would bruise, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when you felt this good.

Once both of you stopped shaking and your breathing evened out you rested your head on Baekhyun’s shoulder and let your hands rest on the smooth, warm skin of his bare chest. His hands moved from your ass up to wrap around your back, holding you against him. You felt him softening inside you but you couldn’t bring yourself to get up, feeling too weak and warm and cozy on his lap to want to move at all.

“You feel like heaven. We should stay like this all day.” He hummed blissfully into your neck.

You chucked at his words but didn’t move either. “Baekhyun?”

“Yes darling?”

“Do you love me?”

The words left your mouth before you could think about it too hard. You just felt it. It felt the love in his words and actions towards you. You needed to know.

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

You sat up to look him in the eyes. “You love me?”

“I love you, y/n. Do you love me?”

“I’m learning to very quickly.”

“I’ve been told I’m a very good teacher.” He grinned.

When you brought your lips back down to his you felt it. The feeling bubbling deep inside of you. It wasn’t quite there yet, but you knew you would get there soon. It was only a matter of time until you were just as head over heels for him as he was for you. You were falling fast.

As the two of you spent the rest of the day wrapped around, pressed against, and cuddled up to one another, you knew that this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

He was your person, and you were his, and you couldn’t wait to take on so much more together for years to come.

~The End~

Epilogue

A/N: AHHH it’s over, I finished my first ever fic. I really never thought more than like 10 people would read it so I’m seriously so grateful for all the positive feedback, it’s so much more than I ever expected. I can’t wait to start the next one!

#baekhyun #exo #baekhyun fic #exo fic #fanfic #fluff #smut #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #exo smut #exo fluff

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grailfinders · 3 years ago

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Fate and Phantasms #184

Oh shit we’re a day late. Sorry. Now that Summer’s over, Fate and Phantasms is heading out to Shimousa, starting with the Archer of Inferno! You know the deal by this point; true name spoilers and build breakdown below the cut, character sheet over here, but still expect a little bit of spoilage because you can’t spread out a character over 20 levels and not spoil a bit about them.

Next up: I thought the ghost of an occultist driving a car made by a talking lion would be the most convoluted character design for a while. I was wrong.

Tomoe Gozen is a Battle Master Fighter to talk with her fists and throw people around as well as a Hunter Ranger to get her fiery arrows and to specialize in fighting massive crowds.

Race and Background

Tomoe is kind of halfway between an oni and a human, never quite at home in either world. Thankfully that’s exactly what Tieflings are as well, so getting her race is pretty easy. As a Mephistopheles Tiefling she gets +1 Dexterity and +2 Wisdom, Darkvision for night raids, Hellish Resistance to fire damage (it would be awkward if you died to your own inferno), and the Legacy of Cania. This gives you the Mage Hand cantrip immediately, with one casting of Burning Hands and Flame Blade with your Charisma per long rest at third and fifth level respectively.

As the wife of a Lord, you’re the definition of a Noble, giving you proficiency with History and Persuasion. People just like you, y’know?

Ability Scores

Step one; Dexterity. You’re an archer, this shouldn’t come as a surprise that this is pretty high. (I mean I say that, but there’s ton of archers that don’t use bows, so...) Anyways, second is Strength. You throw people around like sacks of potatoes, so you gotta be pretty good at lifting them. Go with Wisdom as your third highest ability. Large scale battles are hectic, you’ve got to have a sharp eye to do your best work in them. Your Constitution isn’t half bad, oni tend to be able to take a beating. Your Intelligence isn’t that high purely because we need other stuff more, so we’re dumping Charisma. You’re a bit awkward no matter which side of the family you’re talking to.

Class Levels

Ranger 1: Starting off as a ranger gives you plenty of goodies, including plenty of proficiencies, like Strength and Dexterity saves, plus three skills; Insight and Perception to read your enemies and Athletics to make it easier to haul them around. First level rangers also become Deft Explorers, which makes you Canny with athletics. That doubles your proficiency bonus for extra oni strength when you push and pull objects. You can also set a Favored Foe as a bonus action, dealing an extra d4 of damage once per turn after hitting them with an attack. You can do this proficiency times per long rest, and the damage grows as you level up.

Ranger 2: At second level, you gain the Archery fighting style for an extra +2 to your ranged attack rolls. The archer class is really made up of archers, huh? You also learn how to cast Spells using your Wisdom to cast them. Theoretically. You don’t actually have any spells that bother with that. At first level you can use Longstrider to move around the battlefield easier and Absorb Elements to add a little bit of fire to your arrows immediately. That helps less than the other elements since you’re already resistant to fire damage, but we suffer for our art here. Well, you do.

Ranger 3: Making it all the way to third level without burning out grants you entrance to a shiny new conclave, and the Hunter conclave turns you into a Horde Breaker when you take the subclass, specializing you towards dealing with large groups. Once per turn you can make an extra attack, as long as your second target is within 5′ of the first. You also gain Primal Awareness, letting you Speak with Animals. I don’t think anything in canon says you can do this, but your event is one of the only times we hear the servant animals talk, so I’m counting it. You also learn how to cast Zephyr Strike, speeding yourself up and possibly dealing extra damage at the same time. Controlling your spacing is vital when it comes to dealing with tons of enemies.

Ranger 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Strength for stronger punches. They’ll get even stronger in a second, don’t worry.

Fighter 1: Bounce over to fighter for the Unarmed Fighting fighting style. Now your punches deal 1d6 damage (or 1d8 if you have both free) and you can deal damage to grappled creatures at the start of your turn. You also get a Second Wind, which will heal you as a bonus action.

Ranger 5: We’re done multiclassing for a while, since heading back over to ranger will net you an Extra Attack each action. Now you’ve got two attacks against one target, or three if you can use horde breaker. You also learn second level spells, like Beast Sense and Enhance Ability. I don’t think you’re strong enough yet, so that latter spell will give you advantage on strength checks for the duration. (Or a target creature advantage on any one kind of checks, that’s just the most in-character option.)

Ranger 6: At sixth level Favored Foe grows to a d6, and you also become Roving, which increases your speed and lets you climb and swim without slowing down.

Ranger 7: Seventh level rangers will find it a lot easier to Escape the Horde, forcing disadvantage on all opportunity attacks against you. Right now you’ve still got to keep your distance from your enemies to use your bow and arrow, so this will help. You can also cast Aid to increase your maximum HP along with that of a couple of friends for something that will really excitate your whole lineage.

Fighter 2: Bouncing back to fighter gets you an Action Surge for two actions per turn once per short rest. Now you get up to five attacks in a turn thanks to Horde Breaker and your extra attack.

Fighter 3: If we keep on trucking we’ll hit third level, which is where things get really spicy. As a Battle Master, you get four Combat Superiority d8s per short rest, and you can add one per attack to attack you make, dealing extra damage and adding effects to the blow. Technically. Only one of your maneuvers actually deals with attacks, but that’s Pushing Attack, which will do a lot of work for you. When you hit a creature you deal extra damage, and if they’re smaller than Huge and fail a strength save, they get pushed 15 feet away. Your other maneuvers are Evasive Footwork, adding the d8 to your AC while you move to make fighting you even harder, and Tactical Assessment, adding the die to an Investigation, History, or Insight check. We might not have been able to make you smart, but this should cover whatever tactics you need. You’re also a Student of War, giving you proficiency in any one artisan’s tools. Pick your fave, you’re not exactly Hokusai.

Fighter 4: Our last level in fighter grabs the Crusher feat for +1 Strength and once per turn you can push someone an extra 5 feet as long as they’re large or smaller. Also, critical bludgeoning hits give all attacks against their target advantage until you start your next turn. Now you can fling someone 20′ away, and while that technically doesn’t let you throw them in the air I’d allow it. Honestly, if someone’s moving that far away their feet have got to be leaving the ground at some point.

Ranger 8: Going back to Ranger for good now gets another ASI right away, and Gunner is a weird feat to pick, but hear me out. It’s basically the crossbow expert feat, but it trades that bonus action attack for a +1 to Dexterity, which is way more useful since you don’t use a hand crossbow. You also get proficiency with and can ignore loading on firearms, but most D&D games don’t have those anyway, so it’s fine to be a bit out of character. The real good reason we’re here is to ignore disadvantage on your ranged attacks if people are near you. Archery and brawling don’t normally go together, now they do. You also get Land’s Stride so you can move through difficult terrain easier and have advantage on saves against magical terrain. You leave a lot of corpses around in Shimousa, but this’ll help you keep your footing in that demiplane of skulls you do your boss fight in.

Ranger 9: Ninth level rangers get third level spells, like your Primal Awareness spell Speak with Plants. That might sound totally out of character, but it turns out there’s a legit reason for it: Hey look over there, it’s Flame Arrows! Finally, you can dip 12 arrows into fiery goodness, and each one deals an extra 1d6 fire damage on a hit. You’ve got up to an hour to use all of them, but it also takes concentration so don’t get too attached.

Ranger 10: Tenth level rangers are Tireless, letting you heal yourself with temporary HP as an action Proficiency times per day, and you heal exhaustion on short rests. Some people call that inhuman, I call it efficient. Gilgamesh wishes he had what you do. You can also use Nature’s Veil to turn invisible for a round as a bonus action Proficiency times per long rest. Think of it like a smoke bomb. Or a wildfire bomb. Just set things on fire, hide in the fire, done.

Ranger 11: At eleventh level, hunters can let out a Volley of ranged attacks, letting you attack every creature within a 10′ radius of a point you can see. Technically, this means you can pump out up to 50 attacks per round thanks to Action Surge, assuming a lot of creatures are dumb enough to clump up next to each other. 51, sorry, Horde breaker’s still there. To make getting into position easier you also learn the UA spell Flame Stride, negating opportunity attacks, bumping your speed up by 20 feet, and dealing fire damage to nearby creatures when you run by them. It also explicitly sets items on fire, so now we know how you caused so much damage in Shimousa.

Ranger 12: Use this ASI to round up your Strength and Dexterity for stronger punches, tougher punch saves, better arrows, and a higher AC. A banner level for you.

Ranger 13: Your new fourth level spell from Primal Awareness, Locate Creature is way easier to justify than the last one. You just know where the enemy general is located, even in the thick of battle. We’re basically building a Dynasty Warriors character at this point, aren’t we? You also get Freedom of Movement, just in case you need to speed around the battlefield without setting stuff on fire. I know, it’s boring without the fire. You just have to make due for two more levels.

Ranger 14: Your Favored Foe grows again, and you can Vanish as a bonus action, hiding yourself without any way to track you, bar magic.

Ranger 15: Your final spell of the build will turn you into a mighty inferno that can burn down all of Shimousa! Well, not really, but if you Summon Elemental then Vanish away, it’s almost like you turned into a fire elemental, right? You can also Stand Against the Tide, using your reaction to redirect a missed melee attack at another creature. It’s really hard to hit you when you run away, so I suggest fishing for attacks of opportunity for extra damage.

Ranger 16: Use your final ASI to grab the Tough feat for an extra 40 HP. Onis, man. They’re hard to kill.

Pros:

You specialize in dealing with large groups of enemies, with plenty of ways to move through them and attack over large areas at once.

Working with your bow and fists means you’re never in a bad position in a fight. Hah hah, you ambushed the archer, I guess you’re just getting your skulls bashed in instead.

Your range and speed, combined with your punches’ pushing power, means you are great at choosing your fights. For the most part you can determine where and when you fight an enemy, giving you a pretty solid advantage. As long as your DM doesn’t make all the fights take place in a vacant plain somewhere.

Cons:

Your charisma is pretty dismal, so even if you have a plan in mind good luck getting people to follow it.

You’re also pretty unfocused, and I mean that in every sense of the word. You’d be a lot more consistent with damage if you only focused on punching or arrows, and since you’re specialized for bunches of weak enemies single bosses can be tricky.

Most of your magic damage is Fire, which is easy to resist. If you’re up against a demon or devil, you might just have a bad time.

#fate grand order #fgo #D&D 5e #dnd #Archer of Inferno #Fighter #Ranger

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thecaptainhelm · 4 years ago

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Shut Your Mouth Pt.2

hahaha, daminette part two, wasn’t a one shot, gn gn gn.

Marinette sighed as the shower warmed up, rolling her neck and relishing in the light feeling of accomplishment. Ever since Hawkmoth had been defeated, a mere two days ago, things had been tense. Hawkmoth, now known as Gabriel Agreste, was arrested along with his assistant Nathalie Sancoeur who had since retired as Mayura the year before. It was a stroke of luck to discover that the Guardian had the ability to forcibly renounce a broken Miraculous. Something Gabriel hadn’t known, granting them extra time as he futilely tried to ‘fix’ the brooch. While that happened, she managed to finally convince Chat to at least keep him as a suspect if not out of suspicion, then to actually strike him from their list. It didn’t take long rack up evidence against him, especially after learning from the Bats of Gotham.

The battle was quiet, in the early hours of the morning, where the city forcibly cut the power to the Agreste mansion, and it only took one Venom for each while they slept defenselessly. It took only a few minutes to find evidence that he was at least working with Hawkmoth, and when they found the miraculous pin and brooch, it was confirmed that he was, indeed, Hawkmoth with Nathalie working as his henchwoman Mayura.

Soon, with what was probably the fastest trial of the century, Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur were declared guilty and sentenced to serve life in prison and an insane asylum respectively. It had only shocked her for a moment that Mayura pleaded guilty and asked to be sent directly to rehab for mental help, by reason of insanity wrought by grief. What did surprise her was that she was the one to take the miraculous and give them to the Agreste couple as an anniversary gift, ultimately setting off a chain of unforeseen consequences.

That was a whole other cake she didn’t want to bake just yet, so she decided to finally just take a moment to breathe for what felt like the first time in five years.

So it was only normal that her smartwatch chimed on the hook of the shower caddy, a picture of a frowny eagle glaring right at her. She cursed her luck, yeah, no breaks was still her usual routine. It must be real hard for the universe to break out that particular habit.

Then she remembered that she set this particular picture and ringtone for the one person who had never called.

Robin, the vigilante that she might have, kind of, definitely made an enemy of.

Who was also her crush, so that was just. Great.

In her defense, she was a human being, and human beings were capable of amazing feats. It was just that her amazing feats were more amazing bouts of stupidity. Seriously, why did she do it? Just where did her common sense escape to make her think that was even a remotely good idea, because she wanted to go there and never come back.

She had kissed-- no! She made out with Robin, the most notoriously ill-tempered member of Batman’s team. The only reason he didn’t deck her in the face was because, because, well she didn’t know! Was it mercy, a misplaced feeling of pity, perhaps?

No, actually, it was more likely that he was frozen stiff with rage. Marinette couldn’t blame him, heck, she’d be angry too, suddenly getting passionately smooched in the middle of livid rant.

She had planned on giving him her contact information for the longest time, since they'd come to the understanding that they only wanted to do what was best for everyone, the kind of understanding that only leaders could have. And to maybe get closer to him as much as professionalism allowed. So, it stood to reason that she had to go ahead and ruin that, too. She really couldn’t believe herself sometimes, who randomly kisses someone, hands them their number, and then trots off back to work? Marinette Dupain-Cheng apparently.

In fact, it was about time he called. She had pretty much an entire year to prepare herself for what was sure to be a concise and frigid rejection, maybe even a “Stay for away from, lest I stab everyone in this room and then jump out of a window out of utter disgust”? She might as well get it over with and then move on to be alone for the rest of her life.

She wiped the water out of her eyes and squinted at the text message, before jumping out the shower with a loud curse. She hurriedly dried off and put on her clothes, before heading to the Miracle Box, rereading his message.

Emergency evac, one person, requesting Pegasus’ portal twenty kilometers horizontally above sea level precisely fifteen minutes after this message. Coordinates attached.

The message was sent ten minutes ago. How long was she catastrophizing for?!

Max was partying along with the rest of Paris while she took a breather in her art studio. Even with the full fifteen minutes she wouldn’t be able to find him in time. Shit, would she even be able to transform in time?

She grabbed the glasses from the box and Kaalki appeared in a proud flash.

“No time, there’s trouble,” she panted. “Ready?”

“Hmph, of course,” Kaalki tossed her head. “Let’s go, shall we?”

“Kaalki, transform me!” She eyed the time, two minutes left. She memorized the coordinates as she searched for a suitable place for him to land, and realized she was going to have to catch him in her storage closet.

One minute left. She opened the door and cleared space in the center of the room.

Thirty-five seconds. She stood on an old chair that she moved into the center of the room.

Twenty seconds, and she called, “Voyage!” and threw the portal up towards the ceiling.

Zero. She braced for impact and caught a body that plummeted through in a free fall.

“Ow,” she closed the portal with a groan, amidst the shattered pieces of what used to be a pretty sturdy chair.

“Don’t complain, it could have been worse.” A deep voice rasped.

Wow, to think she missed him, that asshole.

“Shut up, Robi-- oh my god your arm! Get up, getupgetupgetup!” She hauled him up as gently as possible, annoyance giving way to concern.

Robin was, putting it lightly, a mess. He had lost his mask, his eye was swollen shut and his face was bruised with cuts all over, and he was sticky with blood practically everywhere she looked. It was his arm that she was most concerned about, however. It was set in a splint, but he must have been in a rush because it was set wrong, his thumb facing perpendicular lyaway from his body.

“I am fine,” he sagged into her, weary. “I just need a place to stay for the night.”

“If you weren’t so grievously injured, I’d throw you out for that,” she remarked. “But guess what? It’s your lucky night monsieur, and I’m a trained field medic.” Robin looked at her, maskless, and she had to dart her eyes away from his maskless face.

“Oh, so Ladybug finally started replacing her subpar lineup? About time, either she benched them or Hawkmoth would kill them at some point. They were woefully incompent.” Yep, this was definitely Robin, no doubt about it with that attitude.

She called off the transformation and was somewhat pleased when he reflexively jerked his head away. She pulled him into a princess carry and made her way back to the bathroom, inwardly delighting at his reaction. She would never let him live this down.

“It’s me, Robin. Ladybug. Pegasus couldn’t make it, so you’ll have to do with me instead of a random stand-in.” She raised her brow, not that he could see it.

“Unless that bothers you, Boy Wonder?”

“...I’m not,” he mumbled.

“Hm?”

“I’m not Robin anymore.”

What. What.

“What?”

“I’ve retired, effective as of nine months ago today, Robin’s cape has been hung up for the next generation.”

Relief didn’t come yet. “Oh, so you’ve taken on a new mantle? Or are you finally the next Batman, though it would take some time to fill those shoulders. Literally, I mean that literally, um.” She observed his downcast expression and once again started walking to the bathroom. When had she stopped?

“I’m not taking over anything,” he said sullenly. “I can’t. Not after what I did.”

“Come on, it couldn’t have been so bad,” she opened the door with her heel as she backed them towards the stool by the sink. She set him down carefully, taking full stock of his injuries.

“It was. Batman’s cowl has always represented a strict moral code, one that I’ve always...struggled to adhere to.”

Marinette bit her lip as she kneeled in front of him. He didn’t say anymore, and she couldn’t think of anything to say. She sighed and brought out her med kit from the towel cabinet. She was always like this with him.

With Robin (now not Robin?) she had always drawn a blank. She could read his emotions somewhat well, had a good grasp on his moods, and could have genuinely insightful conversations with him. It was only at crucial moments like this that she struggled. Even with Adrien she had always known what she wanted to say, but Robin was different. Everything about him screamed “one chance only” and that caused her mind to go blank. It was so unbelievably frustrating that she could scream.

Marinette handed the glasses to Kaalki and nodded towards her purse hanging on the door handle. The kwami zoomed towards it and soon disappeared into it with the miraculous.

“Robin,” she called gently. He didn’t move. “I’ll have to cut your shirt off, okay? I need to see where the blood is coming from.”

“It’s not mine.The blood.” He kept his gaze away as she froze.

“Well, we’ll have to reset that arm,” she tried again. “It’s not...it’s not looking good, to say the least.”

He looked towards his mangled right arm and nodded.

It took some time to undo the splint and she tried not to think about where he had been for him to only have rotted wood and prison rags on hand. She cut his shirt off at the sleeve and down his middle, pulling it off and exposing a painful canvas of mottled bruises, scrapes, and cuts. She handed him her towel and he stuffed it in his mouth without a word. She gently untied the splint.

“Are you ready?” She gazed at him resolutely. He nodded and braced himself as best he could.

“On my count, one, two--” She re-broke his arm a count early on purpose.

“Arrghh! Ffuk!!” He jerked out of her grip.

“Hold still!” He spat out the towel and glared in response.

“Mizq dhiraei allaeaynat 'aw aidbitha!!!” She only understood ‘rip’ and ‘arm’ but she got the gist of his screaming.

“Alright it’s done now, I’m setting it, so stop moving,” She couldn’t help but sigh under his vicious scowl.

“Tsk. Be grateful that I can barely discern your features Ladybug. You’re on my shit list and I don’t feel like kicking your ass today.”

“Wow, thanks for saving me Ladybug, I could have died if it weren’t for you!” Marinette couldn’t help but snark at him.

“...tsk!” Yep, that was as good as she was going to get in his condition.

After years of fighting akuma victims she was able to observe the complex and hidden emotions of her opponents and the civilians that she rescued. And right now, her experience was telling her that Robin had more than his pride ruined. His self-confident, courageous, and taciturn nature seemed to be regressing as he fell back into what was probably a self-defense mechanism. For him to be like this instead of exhausted in his current state told her that he must have been through a lot since she last saw him.

She started to gently clean the blood off and noted the bruises underneath definitely came from an intense melee battle. Most of them were in places that made her cringe just looking at them. At least he doesn’t have any other broken bones, or stab wounds. Lucky him.

Robin put an ice pack to his face in the meanwhile and wouldn’t look in her direction.

It was quiet for a while. “So, what should I call you, then?” And she had to open her big fat mouth, didn’t she? Now it was awkward. It was awkward, and he hated her, and she was never speaking again, ever.

“Damian.” Uh oh.That didn’t sound like a moniker.

“Um, nice code name?” She started disinfecting his cuts and scrapes, trying not to panic.

“I no longer require such aliases.” Ok, process that later, heal Robin now. Process. Later.

“Ro--, Damian, uh, well,” She sighed. “My offer still stands, you know?”

He made a quiet noise.

“Last time I saw you, I mean. I had left in a rush,”-- after kissing you senseless-- “but I’m always here to listen if you want to talk about what happened.”

Robin, or Damian now, she still wasn’t used to that, froze. His brows furrowed and he strangely went red in the face, before sighing, slumping against the sink.

“I...the blood’s not mine. It hasn’t been my for a long time, but it might as well be for how long I’ve carried it. I’m not a good person so much as to blame myself completely, but I do recognize some of the fault as mine. I’d gotten help, and I was making progress, but it wasn’t enough. I started falling back into old habits and I hated it. I tried and I failed, and I kept trying and failing for months and I…” He gained a look of despair, the first real emotion she’s seen on him since he dropped in.

“I couldn’t do it anymore. I just kept disappointing everyone and I hated it so much,” he dug his fingers into his matted hair.

“So, I left. I decided to go on a journey to try and repent, and it was working, at least I thought it did. But, then I had stumbled upon a Shadows base and I…” He peered unseeing at the floor.

“It was like I lost all sense of reason. I lay siege to the entire facility and found my way to the next base. It all turned into an endless cycle, all the way until I reached headquarters and inadvertently met up with high ranking members of the Justice League, teaming up to diminish their power. We were successful, but a candidate for the position of the Demon’s Head activated the self-destruct module. Everyone was scrambling to get out and suddenly my mind felt clearer than it had ever been.” He took a deep breath and Marinette moved closer to offer some comfort. He leaned towards her gratefully.

“The Justice League had already had an escape route, but the Shadows were in disarray for some reason. After I was sure my old comrades were out, I locked all the doors, and dived down to a ceremonial bathing chamber.”

“And that’s where I came in,” she whispered. I think I’m starting to like him more than I should. What is wrong with me?! Who made me this way?! She had some complaints in regards to that.

“You saved my life,” he inclined his head in an informal bow. “Thank you, Ladybug.”

“...Marinette.” She croaked suddenly. She was left reeling from his info dump and her intense, romantic feelings. So, why not go for a confession?

Damian whipped his head up in disbelief.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Enchanté, Damian.” She smiled at his bewildered state, wiping away a bit of blood under his chin. She opened her mouth to say more, but didn’t get the chance.

Damian leapt up, furious. “You fool! I knew you were a space cadet, but I didn’t think your brain drifted beyond the stars! How utterly moronic!”

“Wait, why are you so mad?!” She panicked. She kind of had a spur of the moment idea to kiss him on his split lip, but that was looking less and less likely to happen.

(Damn it.)

“You told me your name!” he shouted.

“Yes, and you told me your’s?” She retorted.

“Have you forgotten Hawkmoth?! Your enemy that can read the minds of the emotionally disturbed should he decide to possess them!” He started to hobble out of the bathroom, still half-treated and mostly in pain.

Oh.

Oh!

“I have to leave, now! If I can stay calm long enough to reach the trains then I’ll be moving too fast for a butterfly to suddenly get me.”

“Uh, Damian?”

“No, it might already be enroute to someone else and might even already be on board,” He winced and stumbled on the tassel rug in the hallway.

“Woah, hang on a second Damian,” she grabbed him before he could fall, but he pulled out of her grip.

“We don’t have time for this, I can guarantee that I would be one of the worst akumas you’ve faced in your hero career, nevermind the insider information I hold within my mind.”

“Yes, but listen to me,” Damian moved towards the small sitting area, not listening to her.

Again.

“This safehouse should be around one hundred kilometers from the city limits, you’re safe for now, but Hawkmoth’s estimated rate of growth was--”

That’s it!

Marinette grabbed his jaw and slammed it closed. She had had enough.

“This isn’t a safehouse, we’re in my art studio,” she snapped. She could see the rage begin to build to new heights in his eye.

“No, shut your mouth, and listen!” A vein in his forehead started to pulse, but he didn't move to speak.

Good.

“Hawkmoth has been defeated as of last week, and the trial was concluded a couple days ago. Going by what you told me, you've been out the loop for almost a year, so you don’t know that my team and I had closed in on Hawkmoth’s trail some time ago and were able to build a solid case that’ll go through in a court of law,” She carefully let him go.

“So, you’re safe, I’m safe, and Paris is safe too.” She’d already started to calm down in the middle of her explanation, and idly noted that she should probably take an anger management class.

And sign up for therapy. Lots of it, preferably.

Damian nodded slowly as he rubbed his jaw and she couldn’t help her wince.

“Sorry, did I handle you too roughly? Come here,” she started to pull him back towards the bathroom. He resisted.

“No, it’s fine, no damage just from that much force,” he tugged his arm away but she quickly moved behind him and began to push him through the bathroom door.

“Well, I’m not done treating you, so get back in there.” He grabbed the door frame and pushed back, and her calm demeanor left as quick as it came. Was it even truly there to begin with?

“I said,” she picked him up and threw him back on the stool where he grasped for stability.

“Come here.” She leaned in close to his bruised face, and wow, the one eye that she could see was so very, very green. “I’m not done with you, yet.”

“...okay,” he whispered. He kept his head down.

It didn’t take long to finish disinfecting the rest of his wounds, and soon she started applying ointment to the worst of his bruises. She had enough, but she was definitely going to be restocking in order to play his nursemaid for the next week or so. She rose to her feet and started packing away her kit.

“I’ll give you some pain meds for the night, I’ll leave you to take care of the injuries under the rest of your clothes. Come find me in the kitchenette. I’ll make something for us, though it won’t be anything fancy.”

“That is fine.” Marinette frowned at the strange husk in his voice. Did someone try to suffocate him? Why hadn’t she noticed until now?

She kneeled beside him and reached around him for the water bottle she had left in there earlier, but noticed him twitch and start to blush. Did he get a fever too?

She observed his red face and clear, but dilated eyes. Merde, did she embarrass him from earlier? She knew he had a large ego, but it was his own fault for being stubborn.

“Here, get yourself some water from the sink,” she handed the glittery black bottle to him and hurriedly strode out of the bathroom, calling,

“Holler if you need me!”

Completely aware of the flustered state she left Damian in. Though not for the reason she thinks, at least.

#daminette #maribat #part two

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 4 years ago

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Your Hand Print's on my Soul

Part 1 | See the Full Series Here

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 5,069

Warnings: None

Summary: After a terrifying adventure causes the Doctor to have a realisation about you, she seeks advice from some old friends.

A/N: Fair warning, this will be a series, but each fic is a standalone. I’m using this to practise writing different characters and/or different writing styles, This fic features the Paternoster gang, because I love them!!

It hadn’t been a startling realisation, which was what had surprised her. Her realisations were often the cause of something dramatic. This one, however, didn’t involve an Earth shattering life or death situation, no one had held her by gun point until she’d had an awakening, and it hadn’t taken someone else pointing it out – like an alien hell bent on taking some other culture over or the like.

No, it had been in a quiet moment. Just the two of you, lazing the day away.

You had been smiling, completely entranced in whatever you had been reading, sitting on the TARDIS steps whilst the Doctor had been tinkering. She had looked up for a moment, trying to remember which wire she was supposed to reconnect into the chameleon circuit, and there you were.

Under the glow of the TARDIS’ crystals, your skin warm and soft, your eyes sparkling, it had sort of… clicked.

The Doctor loved you.

She considered it for a moment, let the thought roll over in her head.

You had laughed at something in your book, and the Doctor realised she always wanted to hear it, that it was, quite possibly, just the very best sound in the world.

Yes, she loved you.

It made sense, really. It was surprising she hadn’t realised it earlier.

So she kept the thought with her, held it close to her hearts, and smiled at you softly. Before you could look up, before you could wonder why the clacketing and hissing from her tinkering had stopped, she turned away, resuming her work.

The life or death situation had caused the next realisation.

You had gotten separated from the group, and those awful, hideous (well, the Doctor assumed they were hideous, but she had admittedly never seen them) Vashta Nerada were back.

Her and the rest of the fam had found themselves back to the TARDIS, and the Doctor was about to manipulate where the light was falling over the park in a move that basically just involved popping the TARDIS in and out of time milliseconds apart.

But you weren’t there.

You weren’t there.

And so the Doctor had thrown herself into the TARDIS, furiously using every tool available to her to find some sort of evidence that you were alive – a bio print, a residual security scan, a photograph, anything.

And then you had stumbled out of a shadow, shaking, the person you had been with gone.

And the Doctor had realised then; she couldn’t lose you. Not ever.

Yaz had wrapped you into her arms and her and Ryan had ushered you into the TARDIS. The Doctor began her complicated flying manoeuvre, the day was saved, and Graham made tea.

And the Doctor realised; she had to make a plan.

The thing was though, she wasn’t really very good at this sort of stuff. Hell, she wasn’t any good at any sort of intimacy, platonic, romantic, or otherwise – as Graham could attest to.

Actually, y’know what, if Graham was to come to her today with some of those fears he’d had, The Doctor quietly reckoned she would’ve had a much better response.

That wasn’t what she was supposed to be thinking about, though.

But this was why she had found herself, parked over the Medusa Cascade, legs dangling out of the TARDIS door, cup of peppermint tea in hand, and just staring into space. Thinking about, well, thinking about you.

And what she ought to do.

“Hey,” you said, you voice only slightly louder than the low hum of the TARDIS’ engines. It was enough to pull the Doctor from her thoughts, as you so often did, even if you were the subject of her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

The Doctor nodded, turning slightly so she could look at you. You were wearing a plain green jumper and pyjama pants covered in question marks. The Doctor eyed the jumper curiously, it was setting off alarm bells in her mind, as if she was supposed to recognise it.

Then it hit her.

“Where’d you get those clothes?” She asked.

You looked down at your clothes and flushed. “Oh – um, the TARDIS. I’m pretty sure she gave them too me.”

Of course she did. The TARDIS knew the Doctor better than she knew herself.

She was surprised that the TARDIS had given you that particular jumper, and, if the Doctor concentrated, she could almost remember how it felt to wear; stumbling out of her – or well, his, TARDIS, fresh from the time war, itching to throw leather jacket on over it.

She liked it though; you wearing it. She wondered how you would look wearing something she wore today, like her suspenders or her scarf, or even her-

No. This wasn’t what she was supposed to be thinking about.

Still though, despite that, it suited you.

You nodded to the space beside the Doctor. “Do you mind if I join you?”

The Doctor blinked, turning her head to the empty space by her side, then back at you. “Yeah, of course. You’re always welcome.”

You gave her a warm smile. The Doctor focused on it, the way your eyes lit up, the way your nose creased ever so slightly, the way that utter kindness seemed to radiate off of you. She wanted to preserve it, capture that smile and hold it safe in her memory.

You toed off your slippers and joined her, leaning against the door when you had settled.

After you had all settled down after that awful, awful trip, Graham had asked to go home for the night. Ryan and Yaz had followed suit, and the Doctor didn’t blame them. After a day like today, she would to check in with her family too. It had been a frightening day, which the Doctor had apologised profusely for. Today had been worse than when they had run into the Death Eye Turtle Army – which was saying something.

You had chosen to stay, citing that if you had left the Doctor alone, she would get into trouble, and she wasn’t allowed to get into trouble without one of the rest of you present.

It was a good rule. Clara had once had a similar one.

The Doctor sat there awkwardly, staring into her mug. She didn’t know what to say, how to comfort you, or what sort of words were the ones that you needed. She used to be so much better at this, and it was infuriating.

She took a sip, swallowing down her awkwardness, and turned to look back at you.

The stars seemed to reflect themselves in your eyes, bright and vibrant, as if they were reflecting your soul. You stared back at the Cascade in wonder. “It’s beautiful.”

The Doctor, who was memorising your face, the way the light hit your cheeks, the way it danced in your hair, hummed in agreement. Beautiful was certainly the right word for it.

You turned up to look at her. “I can’t imagine what goes on in that great big brain of yours, but I’m here – if you need.”

The Doctor blinked again, and her mind whirring back to the very first thing you had said. Are you alright.

She stared at you dumbfounded. You weren’t even thinking about yourself, you were just worried about her.

The Doctor was acutely aware of how close you were in the narrow opening. If she leaned over just an inch or so, she could brush her shoulder against yours, feel the heat from your body.

She didn’t.

“It’s called the Medusa Cascade,” she said, turning away from you to look at the view. She gestured towards it. “It’s got around 15 broken moons – some of them are just cracked, but others, like the 15th, are full on debris that float in orbit around each other. The eight is my favourite but humans can’t breathe on it. It’s also the halfway point of the universe from Earth, give it another couple of decades and you lot will be able to see it with telescope. It’s even got-“

The Doctor paused for a moment. You had sighed quietly, staring downwards at your dangling legs. The Doctor swallowed, you were sad, of course you were sad, it had been a traumatic day. She tried to think of a way to fix it, to make it better.

“One time,” she continued, trying out for a story. A story would be good, she could totally tell a story, she was a great storyteller, she could keep Bruce Springsteen or Queen Alexia of Koros enthralled. The Doctor and storytelling? An excellent combination. “There were a whole bunch of planets that were taken here, and they were put out of temporal synchronisation with the rest of the universe by one second. It was actually a pretty intense feat of engineering, thinking on it now, but back then we had to-”

“You’re rambling,” you said, a small, sad smile on your face. “It’s okay Doctor, you don’t need to talk if you’re not comfortable. We can just sit here and watch the view.”

The Doctor clamped her mouth shut. She heard her teeth rattle inside her head, and wondered, belatedly, just how comical she looked, staring at this wonderful human with big eyes and a dumb expression.

She tried again.

“I’m probably down there right now,” she said, gesturing at a spot that held dancing green gas.

“Really?” You asked, your voice perking up. “But how can you be down there when you’re here? Wait, this is a time travel thing, isn’t it.”

The Doctor grinned, you had always been clever. “Yeah, younger versions of me are probably running around there right now, touring moons, sealing rifts in time, or trying out Rodravian ice-cream.”

“So you come here often?” You asked.

“Yeah,” The Doctor said. “This place here, it’s probably one of my favourites in the universe, well, after Earth of course – and Space Vegas, I’ve got to take you to Space Vegas-”

You laughed, soft and gentle, causing the Doctor to pause. Good. Laughter. That was important. Then, you looked at her more seriously. “So why here then? What makes it so special?”

The Doctor chewed on her lower lip for a second, staring back out onto the Medusa Cascade. She drummed her fingers against her mug of tea, which was still warm, and stared out at the plumes of coloured gasses that floated among the stars. After a moment, she said. “I… I guess it’s just a place that holds a lot of good memories.”

“With loved ones?” You prompted.

The Doctor looked at you, watched the way the light was reflected in your eyes, pools of colour shifting and whirring, as if it’s life came from you. “Yeah,” she said, and her voice cracked. “With loved ones.” She cleared her throat and turned away. “It’s a good place to think, too. I always come here to think, it’s quiet, it’s safe.”

Your voice was tentative, unsure, when you spoke again. It was as if you weren’t sure if you could, or rather, if you should ask. “What do you come here to think about?”

You.

The Doctor gulped back the rest of her peppermint tea in a single mouthful, set the mug aside. Then, she drummed her knuckles against her thighs. “Well,” she said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m quite tired, I think I might head off to bed.”

She didn’t look at you as she stood, she couldn’t look at you. If she did she would be met with your big sad eyes, your worried expression, facing the way you would chew your lip when you were nervous, something the Doctor didn’t think you even realised you did. No, she couldn’t face that, because if she did, she would never leave – and she had to leave. She couldn’t have this conversation with you.

Not yet.

“Doctor-“ You tried, but the Doctor was already hurrying to the console. This was selfish of herself, cruel, even. She knew that. Of course she knew that. But she couldn’t handle this just yet. She needed a moment, she just needed to talk to someone about this, ramble on for a bit to slot all her thoughts into place.

She paused. Oh. Of course.

She turned to face you, looking at that spot between your eyebrows and above your nose so it looked like she was looking at you, but she wasn’t actually – because she couldn’t, wouldn’t, face your eyes. “I’ll take you somewhere tomorrow, somewhere really nice, and really calming – that is, if you’d like? Just the two of us.”

“Uh,” you said. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Brilliant,” the Doctor replied and she risked a glance into your eyes. She regretted it immediately. You looked so confused, so hurt. “Well then Y/N, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re off to bed?” You asked, as if not quite believing her.

“Yep,” The Doctor said.

“Doctor… before you go,” you chewed your lip for a moment, as if contemplating something heavy, and then, just as suddenly, you flung yourself into the Doctor’s frame, wrapping your arms around her.

The Doctor felt warm, she could feel one of your hands rest against the back of her neck, as if they had found the right spot to be in. The other was against the curve of her back, resting their gently, as if you thought the Doctor was going to pull away.

The Doctor raised her arms slowly, careful not to jostle you, and returned the gesture. It had been a long time since she had hugged someone, and she felt awkward, unpractised. At the same time though, it was wonderful. The weight of your body was flush against hers, as if holding her wasn’t quite enough for you. No, you were grounding the Doctor, holding her stable in way the Doctor had never felt before, not in this face, at least.

Then, all too soon, you pulled away. “I just wanted to say thanks, for today, for um… For not giving up on me.”

That baffled the Doctor. Thanking her? It was her fault you had almost-

“Yeah, um of course. Uh, bed, that’s where I’m going now.” She gave you an awkward wave, before shooting off from the TARDIS console.

The Doctor had lied.

The TARDIS groaned in disapproval as the Doctor scurried off to the library.

“Yes,” The Doctor hissed. “I know, I know that was awful of me.”

The TARDIS whirred again.

“And selfish,” The Doctor said. “You don’t need to just tack it on, I know.”

The worst thing about it was though; the books were no help at all. Granted, the TARDIS hadn’t made it easy, but, after scouring the library for any sources that could help her process this information and work out how to move forward – well, none of it fit.

She huffed, blowing a strand of her out of her face, and glared at the growing stack of books that hadn’t given her any ideas at all. No this wouldn’t do.

“Alright,” she said to the TARDIS. “I think I need better help. Any ideas?”

Which was how, that morning (well, relatively) she found herself knocking on an old wooden door, you standing by her side.

“So who’re we visiting again?” You asked, stifling a yawn. The Doctor ebbed away a pang of guilt, it was obvious you hadn’t slept well.

“Some old friends,” the Doctor said. “Haven’t seen them in a while. I don’t think they know about my face.”

You scrunched your face up. “What do you mean by that?”

Any response the Doctor could have given was stolen when the door flew open. The man narrowed his eyes at them. “You will state your name and the purpose of this visit.”

“It’s me,” she replied. “The Doctor.”

His eyes regarded her carefully. “Well,” he said, after a moment. “You never told us that you could regenerate into a man.”

The Doctor’s hands flew to her face. “Wait, no, everyone’s been saying-,” she frowned at him, and was somewhat embarrassed that it had taken so long for the cogs in her brain to slot into place. “I’m a woman, Strax.”

“Who is it?” Came a voice from inside, and the Doctor smiled.

“It’s the Doctor,” Strax said, opening the door wider now. “He says he’s a woman now.”

“She,” Jenny admonished, ushering Strax aside. “And what do you mean the Doctor’s a…” her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the Doctor. Her eyes widened, looking the Doctor up and down. Nervously, she swallowed. In a clipped voice she said. “Ah. Right. A woman, got it.”

The Doctor rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of her feet. “This is Y/N,” she nodded to you. “I thought you’d be a great tour guide.”

By the Doctor’s side you gave an awkward little wave. “Hi.”

“And it’s nice to see you too,” Jenny pursed her lips towards the Doctor, and regarded you with curious interest. “Well come on in then,” she said, stepping aside to allow both you and the Doctor to enter. “How long’s it been for you anyhow? Since you last saw us?”

“Aw,” the Doctor drew out the sound, giving her an awkward look. “A while.”

Jenny hummed. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t surprise me. When did all of this,” she gestured to the Doctor’s general space, then gestured for Strax to close the door. “Happen?”

The Doctor’s expression brightened. “Only a little bit ago!” She twirled around the foyer, arms out, her coat billowing slightly around her. She loved the way it swooshed. “What’d you think?”

Jenny’s voice was a little strained when she responded, and the Doctor could have sworn she had muttered ‘marriage’ under her breath. “It suits you.”

The Doctor clasped her hands together. “I was hoping to see-”

“She’s busy,” Jenny said suddenly. “Interrogating someone.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Who..?”

“Ma’am,” Jenny explained. “The Lady Vastra.”

You didn’t look as though that had cleared anything up, and stared at Jenny like a confused puppy, which was adorable-

And not what the Doctor should be focusing on.

“I’m happy to wait,” The Doctor said, tearing her eyes away from you and over to Jenny. “I know how she can get when she… interrogates someone.”

You shook your head in bafflement and spoke under your breath. “What..?”

“I was wondering though, if you could give Y/N here a tour of Victorian London-”

“It’s just London, for us, Doctor,” Jenny said with an amused smirk.

“Around just London, then,” The Doctor amended. “Around some of your favourite sights,” the Doctor turned to you. “The tea shops are fabulous, you’ll like those.”

You blinked rapidly, and turned to the Doctor. “Uh, can we talk?”

The Doctor nodded and you pulled her aside. You hand was warm, even through the fabric of the Doctor’s coat, and she didn’t want you to let go. You did. “Doctor, why are you sending me off with this woman experiencing unparalleled levels of gay panic and this small potato man?”

“Potato man?” The Doctor admonished. “Y/N, he has a name.”

In the distance, the Doctor heard Jenny whisper the words ‘gay panic’.

You shrugged slightly. “Well I haven’t been told it.”

The Doctor reeled, how had she forgotten to do that? She pointed to Strax. “This is Strax, he was a nurse in the Sontaron empire,” she leaned in close to you, as if she was sharing a secret. “Essentially just mass produced clones,” then, spoke louder. “But can find the cure to almost any illness” Strax stifled under your gaze.

“And this,” the Doctor pointed to Jenny, not registering Strax’s reaction at all. “Is Miss Jenny. If an army of angry mind possessed Victorians come after you, she’s the best person to have by your side.”

“Mrs,” Jenny corrected, then turned to you. “And it’s lovely to meet you. Any travelling companion of the Doctor’s is…” she pursed her lips again, looking at you like she couldn’t quite make you out. “…is a friend of ours.”

“Right,” you said.

“And we would be more than honoured to give you a tour of London,” Strax said, his voice growing an edge of reverence and excitement. “I will show you the most strategic points of warfare, so that I may crush you in the fields of battle for the glory of the Sontaron empire!”

You looked at him blankly, and Jenny turned to him suddenly. “You’ve not been eating my sweets again, have you?”

Strax paled. “What? I – no, of course I haven’t. You have done me the most grave disgrace by suggesting otherwise-”

“You have been eating my sweets,” Jenny narrowed her eyes at him. “You took all the sherbet fizzles again, didn’t you.”

Before Strax could reply, the click of heels against the hardwood floor echoed down the hallway. Vastra emerged, tugging at her veil slightly. The Doctor could see straight through it, she always could, after all, but she wondered if you could see it.

Judging by the way your mouth fell open in shock, the Doctor assumed you didn’t see the veil afterall, which was different. “She’s a-”

“Yes.” The Doctor said.

“In Victorian-”

“Yes.”

The Doctor watched you consider it for a moment, then your face brightened. “That’s so cool.”

Vastra blinked, and it was the only indication that she was surprised. The Doctor was glad she still remembered how to read her old friend. “Well, that is a pleasant, if unordinary, reaction,” she cleared her throat. “Jenny dear, would you please introduce our guests.”

“Oh ma’am,” Jenny said. “That’s-”

“Me,” the Doctor said with a knowing smile. “C’mon Vastra, you know me.”

Vastra eyed the Doctor curiously, and her eyes widened in surprise. “Well, if I did not know any better, I would say that you’re the Doctor. I don’t know another soul who would wear suspenders of that colour.”

The Doctor grinned. “It’s so good to see you.”

“And I you,” Vastra smiled brightly, and her entire face emulated warmth. “I must compliment you Doctor, you are looking far better than any of your last faces can compare.”

“Marriage,” Jenny hissed.

“Oh come now dear,” Vastra said, but her eyes were still on the Doctor. “It was only a compliment.”

Jenny muttered something about flirting with half the galaxy, but the Doctor wasn’t paying attention, because your eyes were sparkling, as though you had solved the Collatz Conjecture. “You’re married?” You breathed. “To each other?”

Vastra’s smiled softened to you, like she was amused. “That is how marriage works.”

“That’s amazing,” you said. “How was the ceremony?”

Both Jenny and Vastra looked towards one another in amusement, and spoke at the same time. “Violent.”

“Your interrogation is over now, right?” The Doctor said, because she was itching to talk to Vastra.

“Oh, you were doing the interrogation,” You said. “How was it?”

“A bit too fatty from what I would usually enjoy,” Vastra said, her eyes twinkling. “But filling none the less.”

You let out a soft little ‘oh’, as if hadn’t occurred to you that Vastra’s interrogation technique wasn’t exactly above board. Then the Doctor realised that it probably hadn’t.

“And I am more than happy to speak to you, Doctor,” Vastra said again. “You know my parlour is always available.”

The Doctor turned to you. “You wouldn’t mind spending time with Jenny and Strax for a bit, would you?”

“Uh – no, no, of course not. You do what you gotta do space woman.”

The Doctor grinned, squeezing your shoulder, and jogged off to catch up with Vastra, who had already left the room. She knew you would be safe in Jenny and Strax’s hands, they wouldn’t let anything hurt you.

The parlour was how it always was, two tall chairs surrounded in an assortment of plants. Tea had already been brewed, because Jenny was nothing if not efficient, and Vastra sat in her designated chair.

“Your companion saw straight through my veil,” she mused, gesturing to the tea and silently asking if the Doctor would like some.

The Doctor nodded, and Vastra began serving. “Yeah,” the Doctor said, bouncing over. “I’m pretty proud about that, I think we’ve just seen so much now that nothing could be fazing anymore.”

“Well I’m sure you are one of those more delightful sights, Doctor,” Vastra passed her a mug and the Doctor took a whiff. It was French Earl Grey.

Then the Doctor realised what Vastra was saying. “I think this is the moment where Jenny would scold you about flirting, again.”

“Perhaps,” Vastra said with a smirk, which told the Doctor that Vastra knew exactly that, and that she didn’t mind it either. “So, tell me what is so urgently important, that I finished my meal early.”

The Doctor drummed her fingers against the warm ceramic. "My - my travelling companion, no, my friend, I... I think I, no. I know I..." The Doctor cleared her throat. "It's love."

"You're in love with your travelling companion," Vastra surmised, not as a question, but as a fact. "Is this something your friend knows?”

"Y/N," The Doctor said, squirming under the way Vastra had said the word ‘friend,’ like it wasn’t true in the slightest, like she could already see you were something more. No, that was ridiculous, the Doctor was reading too much into it. "And no - I... I haven't been able to work out what to do."

"So you've come to me," Vastra said, an edge of humour in her voice.

"You're my friend."

"Ah, so it's a bit of girl talk you're after," Vastra mused. "I suppose I can indulge you," she said, and then, after a moment. "My friend."

“It didn’t hit me really dramatically or anything, but I just… We had a really awful day yesterday, with the Vashta Nerda, which was already awful enough, but then Y/N got separated and I…”

“I understand,” Vastra said, her voice soft. “Although, Doctor, if you’ll allow me to say, you've been in love with many people before, need I remind you that I have been friends with most of them."

"Yes but, I haven't.. I don't..." The Doctor groaned. "I've never been a woman before."  

Vastra raised an eyebrow, and took a sip of her tea. "So that's what this is," she said after a moment. "You've come to me because I am a woman who has seduced another," she scoffed. "You might be better seeing the Madame Julie D'Aubigny."

The Doctor almost smirked. "You've heard of Julie?"

"Doctor, I am a lesbian lizard woman from the prehistoric period living in Victorian London," Vastra said, in the matter of fact tone she often only reserved for the humans she considered unintelligent. "I make it my business to know of humanities greatest women."

The Doctor had a sip of her tea and took in a heavy breath. She hadn’t said these things to anyone before. It was new, it was frightening. It was also so very, very important.

"You know how humans can be can just be so bright, like there’s just that little something that shines within them, and, when you’re around them, it’s like that brightness is shining on you?" The Doctor started.

Vastra hummed, her eyes going thoughtful, knowing. Of course she knew, Vastra was another person who had fallen in love with a human.

"Y/N is like that, but... but more,” The Doctor said, and even she could tell that her voice was just filled with so much feeling. “I don't even know how to describe it, it's just – oh and that smile? Sometimes I take Y/N places just to see that smile, it's everything. Y/N finds the beauty in the mundane, and just adores absolutely everything I show." 

The Doctor sobered. "How do I... what do I even do with that?"  

Vastra leaned forward for a moment. "Well, do you want to be with Y/N?"

The Doctor swallowed. Did she? Could she do that to you? Could she collapse her absolute everything into you? Would it even be fair?

She thought about the way you had hugged her, how safe the Doctor had felt, how secure she had been. Perhaps, just maybe, it would be alright, to let you in, to fall completely into you.

But it would be cruel, it would be so much, and she would never want to put that burden on your shoulders.

At last, the Doctor whispered, in a broken voice. "I don't know.”

"Well," Vastra said, having another sip of tea. "I suggest you determine the answer, because I cannot tell you what you don't know, that is not how matters of the heart operate - or in this case, hearts."

“How do I do that?”

Vastra regarded her. “Doctor, that is not something I can tell you. Only you know your hearts,” she paused.

The Doctor took a sip of her tea, it was fruity, with a floral aftertaste. It reminded her of bergamot. She took one more, then another, swallowing down her thoughts.

Only she knows her hearts? What did that even mean.

The Doctor perked her head up, the pieces falling into place.

“I’m a time traveller,” She breathed.

“You are, yes.” Vastra said, frowning slightly. “That is one of your defining traits, Doctor.”

“No, I mean, I could just see another face of mine, one that’s better with all of,” the Doctor gestured vaguely around her, the tea sloshing in it’s mug. “This.”

Vastra raised her eyebrows. “That wasn’t exactly what I meant, Doctor.”

But she didn’t get the chance to reply. The door to the parlour flung open, and in stormed Jenny, with half the skirt from her dress burned off. You were walking behind her, frazzled and dazed, your hair flying everywhere and ash littered over your shirt. The Doctor noticed you had even lost a shoe.

“My word,” Vastra gasped. “What on Earth has happened?”

Your wild eyes found the Doctor’s, and immediately, the Doctor knew that her own crisis could wait. Something more important was afoot.

Part of her was excited, she had missed going on adventures with the Paternoster gang.

Besides, she had to work out which version of herself to talk to next, and that would take time.

“Well then,” the Doctor said. “C’mon team,” she screwed up her face. “Hm, no, wait. Crew?” her face then brightened. “Victorian slumber party – yes. C’mon Victorian slumber party-”

Vastra rolled her eyes, but was giving the Doctor a small smile. “You are not calling us that.”

“-let’s get a shift on.”

A/N^2: This was a bit of an awkward place to end it, sorry about that. I wanted the focus to be on the relationship advice but it all kind of spun away from me. Also, you won't BELIEVE how hard it was writing this without writing pronouns for reader, so, I have a question: how would you feel if I wrote Y/P for "Your pronoun"? I'm anxious about the fact that it could pull people out of the fic, but also, I don't want to alienate people by writing in a pronoun. So, thoughts?

#the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor imagine #13th doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor #Doctor Who #DW #did I post a fic yesterday? yes #and now I've posted another? yes #even though I said I wouldn't be writing as much bc uni? also yes #look I've got the rest of today and tomorrow to finish it up I'll be fiiiiiiiiine #and by finish it up I rlly mean start #but it's fiiine #this is also another: no beta we typo like men one #bc I'm too tired to edit whoops #also: @ the folks who've been going through my masterlist #I see you and I appreciate you #I've gotten a spam of notifications from y'all and it's made my heart swell

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timerainseternal · 4 years ago

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It has occurred to me that Five’s life is basically one big stream of failed successes, which is very interesting since he’s a very competent character overall. We know he is extremely good at physical tasks (best assassin in the timeline and has the ability to manipulate space, yeah I think he has it covered), mental tasks (solved time travel with equations on his own, can consistently come up with pretty solid, if risky, back-up plans), and is resourceful and able to improvise. Sure, his social skills are pretty bad, but he even improves on that in season 2 with his attempts to bring his siblings together instead of being almost solely independent like season 1. This isn’t to call him perfect (he really isn’t) or anything like that, but just to point out that rightfully, he should be more successful in the show than he is. I know his failure is mostly because the writers can’t have him actually succeed, since his goal is basically to stop the conflict in the show, but I’m pretty sure he thinks the universe hates him a whole lot (and it does!).

To emphasize how constant this is, I’ve gone overboard and made a timeline of Five’s major goals, and how they failed. I’ve counted most of them as failed successes, in that he technically did complete his goal, but not in a way that mattered to his actual goal, or in a way that created new problems to solve. Below a read more, since I am incapable of being concise.

Time Travel:

The first, and biggest, failed success. He did succeed at time travelling! He just was unable to go back and got stuck in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Confirmed failed success.

Time Travel Back:

Well, it took him forty-five years and he accepted a deal to become a time-travelling assassin, which wasn’t getting out on his own steam. Despite that, it didn’t take him that long to finish his equations while at the Commission, so presumably he was pretty close to getting it at that point. Also, even though he was technically time travelling forwards from 1963, he was able to get all his siblings back in time like a week later without time to work on his equations between, so he probably would have been able to get back. In short, he did get back (though only to 2019 and not 2002, so he didn’t ever get back to when he left), but became an assassin, and also physically thirteen, in the process: failed success.

Prevent the Apocalypse:

This is a big one so I will break it down into steps as well, but it is also a failed success as a whole since he did not, in fact, stop the apocalypse (or he stopped the original one but caused a different one in the process, depending on your point of view), but he did protect his siblings and himself from it as well as give themselves another chance to fix it. Failed success.

Get Information on the Eye:

Did eventually get the information from MeriTech, which told him nothing about who the eye belonged to. Failed success.

Get Information from the Commission:

Found out who they were protecting, did decent damage to the Commission HQ, and managed to hunt Harold down. Success! But Harold was already dead when he found him and had already set the apocalypse in motion, and the Commission was only temporarily damaged and it gave Five a shrapnel wound. He was also lulled into a false sense of security by the apparent end of the apocalypse. Failed success.

Mental Healing:

Goes to put back Dolores, finally able to let go of her as a coping mechanism and realizing he can find other avenues of self-exploration and development. Wonderful, Five, I’m very proud! His absence from the Vanya situation keeps her trapped (since presumably he would have jumped her out of there?), leading to the apocalypse that is the root of most of his trauma. Whoops. A very failed success, and a very sad one too.

Stop Vanya from Ending the World:

Well, he doesn’t actually really help that much here? He agrees to kill Vanya but doesn’t succeed. This one is mostly on Allison. As a group, though, they succeed in not making her set off a sonic boom or whatever it would have been, but they do blow up the moon, so. This one is just a failure.

Escape the Apocalypse:

As mentioned, Five does manage to get them all out of the apocalypse safely and without bodily changes! He did scatter them across the sixties and landed himself in another apocalypse immediately, so: failed success.

Gather Siblings:

It's like herding cats. Luther says no, Diego breaks out of the asylum, everyone has a love life all of a sudden, etc. This becomes an ongoing goal, and one that has varying levels of success at different points. Success level: oscillating.

Find Reginald:

Well, they do find him. He also stabs Diego and Pogo scratches Five :(. Then they go to the gala, get attacked by the Swedes, but they do get Reginald’s attention which leads him to invite them to a light supper. This one is a successful fail, since they basically get Reginald to find them at a time and place of his choosing.

Get Advice from Reginald:

Well, this meeting leads to everyone getting un-adopted, and the advice Five gets isn’t helpful to his immediate dilemma. He also has to see Reginald again :(. However, the advice is useful later, so: failed success.

Make a Deal with the Handler:

It does technically succeed, this one, in that he is extremely good at murdering the Board, and the Handler does give him a briefcase. It does have a time limit because the Handler is awful, but presuming that it actually did what she said, and if the siblings had all shown up, it would have been a full success! In practice, however, given the actual results: failed success.

Gather Siblings (Speed Round):

He gets 3 (2.5, sorry Ben) of them, so fully half! Only half, though. And the others had planned to come (sometimes with others, you naughty rulebreaker, Vanya), but got attacked/kidnapped/knocked out. So, getting half is kind of successful, but in this case it was all or nothing, so it’s a straight failure.

Get Briefcase from Past Self:

He doesn’t murder himself, so that’s a kind of success! It’s the only one, though, since even though he told other-Five the right equation that doesn’t actually help him any, since he remains thirteen and without a briefcase. He also gets to kick Luther square in the nuts, which is a success of sorts. Still a failure, though, especially because as he deals with that, Vanya’s preparing to end the world accidentally again and he doesn’t even know about that.

Go With Vanya:

Admittedly, it seems like he kind of doesn’t have another goal at this point, but that’s okay, since the apocalypse of ‘63 has been prevented and this is finally granting full success to the goal of Gather Siblings! However, since he is being framed for the murder of the Board (well, I say framed. He did actually do it), the Handler can use that to justify all of the Commission agents showing up, and can use this opportunity to kill the whole Academy and get Harlan too. I mean, she totally would have done the same thing whether or not he killed the Board, but it’s a nice excuse, and Lila also hates Five. In any case, though he has technically completed the goal of going with Vanya and supporting her, now they have to fight a whole lotta people. Failed success, I guess.

Protect His Siblings:

This, really, is the only actual goal he has in the show, and everything else is the steps to get there. And he fails the first time around! Traumatic! Luckily he was able to turn back time in a feat of badassery, and turn the biggest failure--a situation where he watches his siblings die and cannot save them and will never be able to save them and they’re dead forever--into his biggest success--discovering a new and very useful power, saving them all from death, ending remaining threats [the Handler and the Swede, (though the Swede is technically the one to actually kill the Handler, Five did thwart her plan and semi-directly led to her death, and I think he deserves to be the one who killed her, so there)], making a truce with the Commission, and getting them a way back to an apocalypse-free timeline. Failure followed by success.

Go Back to 2019

They did go back to 2019, just not their 2019. They’ve been un-adopted and the Sparrows exist, but there doesn’t seem to be an apocalypse in sight. Failed success.

Basically what I’m saying here is that despite being one of the most focused, consistent, and results-driven characters on the show, he rarely truly, fully succeeds. The real message here is that Five needs a win, a break, something. I hope in season 3 he gets it, or at the very least gets the chance to go absolutely wild. He deserves it.

#tua #the umbrella academy #tua meta #five hargreeves #he deserves better #absolutely nothing really works out for him #also before this he was a child soldier #which he seemed to be good at but can we really call being good at being a child soldier a success?#i dont think so #to be fair the other siblings don't get that much success either #i think their counts might be a little higher than Five's #they just also get a little bit longer to process things than Five does #and also their goals aren't quite as cataclysmic when they fail #(except for Vanya #but I don't think the apocalypse was ever necessarily a goal per se #but more of a byproduct)

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bae-science · 4 years ago

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it’s t-t-t-t-time for another newt bae-science fic rec extravabonanza! same rules, same boys, same bullshit! let’s get into it:

a beginning; a second chance by @dykesword

other newt and i have a long and intricate ritualistic battle to become the alpha newt, but i gotta give credit where it’s due. if you like to annotate your books for fun, this fic will give you a looooong comment you’ll want to write, and for good reason! there’s a lot of really well done metaphor and character detail in here, while still keeping a very soft, melancholy but with a hopeful edge tone. and also, like, the care and detail in which newt’s mental state in the aftermath of the precursors’ abuse is depicted is so so good, and delightful to read

husbandly duties by @kingeiszler

i am soooo biased with this one bc technically it was made for me but GODDAMN it’s good. this shit has everything: gottlieb trio sibling dynamics, vanessa in giant femme earrings, hermann yearning, newt and karla infodumping together, newt’s terrible and accurate gaydar, gay crime, the newmann dynamic and why it works boiled down to its bare essentials, pride and prejudice glasses touch, and neon green acrylics. required reading for the vanessaverse

Say That Again by @robertfrobisherslover

WOOF. if you like mutual pining and lack of communication from men with rocks for their emotional processing centers, and guncle (gay uncle) newt and hermann and KILLER artsy sex scenes, and themes of words unsaid in a story about LANGUAGE..... oogoogogoogouhufug. the writing style is clear and well paced, i LOVE little mako’s scene she’s such a cutie, and there’s like. a line. that’s a play on the whole “it’s always been you” trope. that lives in my mind rent free forever.

speak right to my heart without saying a word by @thekaidonovskys

i’m just gonna paste the comment i left on it here, because that sums up what is so absolutely incredible about this fic the best:

so sometimes you stumble on a piece of fiction that you add to your little collection of stuff you would show a person if you wanted them to understand a part of you that you can't quite explain eloquently, or it would take too long, etc etc, and i've never really found something like that for my autism until now, which, like, poggers. and i'll be as straight up as i can while still being the biggest lesbian in the great state of ohio (not a hard feat but alan invented computers so i love continuing on the autistic tradition of being a living miracle), the chameleon effect hit me like a mack truck. catholic school in the deep south is the most potent and effective form of ABA therapy imaginable :/. so sometimes i wonder what i would be like if i didn't have such a strong ability to pass, and here's where we finally get to the part of this comment where i just vomit compliments at you: you nailed it. you got it. i don't know if you're on the spectrum, but either way, well fucking done. trauma therapy research talks a lot about healing fantasies, which are fantasies, usually in the form of daydreams, that abused/neglected/traumatized/etc people create that directly address a struggle they have and take the form of a scenario in which that struggle is helped in some way. it could be an abusive parent repenting and showering them with the love they never had, or someone finding them during a panic attack and somehow knowing how best to comfort them without having to ask, or being intimate with someone and having a scar or physical deformity they've been shamed for be given attention and care. and i think you have created the ultimate perfect healing fantasy for autistic people, or at least those with """"high functioning"""" autism. it has a character who is visibly and undeniably on the spectrum having the pain and trauma going through life like that causes being acknowledged and validated, they are purposefully paid attention to because person b genuinely likes them and wants to understand and respect who they are and how they function in the world, and thus get The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known as well as the eventual rewards of being loved, person b makes a genuine effort to help teach them social skills in a way they can understand and learn through and is there for them when these skills are being practiced, their space and boundaries are respected but they aren't infantilized or thought of as an emotionless robot, and they receive love and comfort on their own terms not despite of but because of who they are, even specifically being asked not to change the way they are because that way is lovable. they are openly desired. writing is my fucking JOB and it's still difficult to put into words how much you got 100000% right about the dream with this fic. i have been in the EXACT and i mean EXACT same situation as hermann when he asked newt if it was his personality itself that made people not like him, because i deadass made a spreadsheet of all my personality attributes i thought could be preventing me from making friends in college, and then asked my fellow nd friend to see if there was anything i was missing. so i guess what i'm trying to say is that this amazing, and i'm bookmarking it and putting it on my next fic rec post, and maybe one day way way in the future if i ever get a partner i want to explain the whole autism thing to, i'm gonna have them read this.

The Facts With Newton Geiszler, PhD by what_alchemy (NSFW)

storytime: i read this fic a few years ago, completely forgot the title and author, and ended up thinking about the part where hermann admits to having fucked a trailer hitch when he was a teenager, at least once a week. last november, i say to my friend samara on twitter, head of the BSHCU (buttslut hermann cinematic universe), hey this seems like something you’d have read, do you remember a fic where... and samara says FUCK i do know what you’re talking about lemme find it. so if the fact that i have been looking for this fic for like, two years, and that it contains a moment so iconic all i had to say is, “hermann says he fucked a trailer hitch” and she IMMEDIATELY knew what i was talking about, does not convince you to read this... go back to catholic school i guess.

Feeling Blue by TempusPetrichor

fics where newt goes back to work as a biologist, especially a xenobiologist, post pru are really interesting, and usually have something neat to say about recovery, how it isn’t linear, how it often involves us returning to things we love for comfort, etc. this one sure does! some good emotional and physical h/c, LOVE the use of the ghost drift, and it’s always fun to see post pru fics use dialogue very obviously taken from dbt, trauma-specific therapeutical texts, and anything that shows the author has experience with, or did their research on, ptsd therapies.

You’re Everyone That Ever Cared by KlavierWrites

you know a fic is good when it’s an only 9k slowburn and still manages to reach infinite regress levels of are you fucking KIDDING GO TO THERAPY. newt “acts of service” geiszler may have a little misplaced misogyny due to his broken woman-centric gaydar. as a treat. the fucking. post-drift scene where hermann subtextually screams “LOOK IN OUR BRAINS YOU FUCK I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU I JUST HAVE AUTISM AND CAREER IN STEM DISORDER” is soooooo. god just hermann in general in that scene is great. if you like classic mid 2010s era newmann, ghost drift romance, and good ole mutual pining, this is a treat.

Baby, You're Hotter than my Bunsen Burner by SkySongMA

moronosexual hermann representation is something that can actually be so personal

Times of Stress by RadioMoth

the boys are processinggggggg. man what a good, quick and powerful punch to the gut. if you like post-pr1 catharsis and physical h/c, AND are the one friend that likes to comment at the end of the movie that hey newt got beat the fuck UP, check this one out.

black tea by @faggotcas

okay first of all, god fucking tier url, lee. second of all, food as a love language is my SHIT. i love the very slow relationship development here, where you see them making a genuine effort to get along and that in turn leading to feelings reigniting. it’s such a sweet little moment of a fic, with a nice atmosphere and tone to fit it

now here’s the part where i usually drop my latest fic, but i haven’t written one this month because i’ve been busy launching an audio drama! you can find it here, it’ll be right up your alley if you like cryptids and gay scientists and enemies to lovers and good ole americana, but since this is a newmann post, i’m gonna recommend the pacific rim audio drama duology i did a while back! part one is called conversations from the brink, and it’s a little slice of the pr3 we better fucking get from streaming that godawful looking anime. love and lesbians to everyone ❤️

#pacific rim #pac rim #mine #newmann #pacific rim uprising #fic rec

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440mxs-wife · 4 years ago

Text

No Chicks Allowed

Imagine: Dean has turned one of the bunker's rooms into a "Dean Cave". You want to go in there, but he's made it clear that no chicks, especially you, are allowed. One day, while everyone is gone, you decide to check it out to see what all the excitement is about. What happens when Dean catches you trespassing in his inner sanctum?

Sam and Dean were trying to maneuver a large box down the stairs without breaking its contents. Dean had recently discovered an empty room in the bunker and decided to turn it into his "man cave."

At first, you were excited, because he looked so happy, and that's all you've ever wanted for him. You've had a secret crush on Dean for as long as you can remember, but there's no way you'd ever tell him. You'd pretty much convinced yourself that chances were pretty high that he only thought of you as his best friend, or worse, his little sister.

This past week, the "cave" was all Dean could talk about, including all the stuff he was going to have in the new room. His vinyls and turntable, a bar, mini-fridge, small cabinet for snacks and of course, the large flat screen for watching movies or playing video games. You got the feeling he wanted it as a secret clubhouse of sorts, one where "no chicks" are allowed.

You kept dropping hints about wanting to hang out in the new room. Each time, though, he used a different reason to dissuade you from the idea. It was too drafty in there, he'd said. Not enough room for a lot of chairs, he'd said. You don't have the same taste in movies or video games, he'd said. Finally you'd both had enough.

"Dean, I don't see why I can't hang out with you once in a while in the new room! There's only so many times I can keep reading the same books, and I'll get bored with nothing to read," you said. "You don't seem to want me down there at all, Dean. Is that what I'm getting?"

"Exactly. There are all these other rooms in the bunker, why don't you take one of them and make it your clubhouse? Just stay out of mine, and everything will be just peachy!" he shouted as he and Sam prepared to take a new flat screen TV down to the "cave”.

"Fine! Who wants to see your stupid clubhouse anyway?" you yelled. After a while, you decided to get up and follow the boys to take a look at the room for yourself. They made their way down to the "Dean Cave," as he'd started to call it, with the new TV. You tiptoed after them and, partway down the stairs, you overheard Sam and Dean's conversation.

"Dean, that was kinda harsh. Why can't she come down here and hang out with us sometimes?" Sam asked.

"Aww, Sam, not you too. Look, I just want a place where I can escape to. Somewhere that I don't have to see her everywhere I go!" Dean replied.

And there it was. Confirmation of exactly what Dean thought of you. He didn't seem to have any feelings for you whatsoever, not even friendly. Tears springing to your eyes, you ran back up to your room, closing and locking the door behind you.

****

Dean fumbled for words as he tried to explain himself to his brother.

"She's everywhere, Sam. I can't get her beautiful face out of my mind. She's so wonderful. Kind, caring, selfless, not to mention a great hunter. Sexy as hell, too. I'm afraid one of these days, I'm going to slip up and do something stupid, like grab her and kiss her. Then, when she doesn't feel the same, I'll have lost my best friend. At least I can come in here, listen to my vinyls, play some Call of Duty, just something to get my mind off of her," he explained.

At that moment, Sam's phone rang, with the caller ID showing Cas' name. He answered it, and from Sam's side of the conversation, it sounded to Dean like they might have a case. Oh well, I can finish decorating when I get back, he thought. "What's Cas got going on?" he asked.

Dean listened to Sam explain the facts of the case, a vamp's nest that needed taken care of. "Hey, let's just the two of us go. Cas will meet us there... No sense in dragging her with us. Not for something this simple," Dean suggested.

"Yeah, probably. I'll go tell her. What, two, three days?" Sam asked.

"Sounds about right," Dean confirmed.

******

Sam walked down the hall to your room and noticed that the door was closed. He tried the knob, but it was locked as well. Hmm. He knocked on the door, heard it being unlocked. You opened it enough to see it was Sam, but kept her head down. "What do you want, Sam?" you asked.

"Cas called me just now about a vamp's nest problem, but it's not a big deal. Something just the three of us guys can handle by ourselves. Shouldn't be more than two, three days, tops.

"You'll have the whole place to yourself while we're gone," Sam finished.

"Okay," you said softly. "Wait, whose decision was it to leave me behind?" you asked.

"Um, Dean said us guys could take care of it, no need to drag you with us for something this simple," Sam explained.

"Figures," you muttered under her breath. Sam looked at you in surprise at your remark. "Leave it alone, Sam. It's nothing.

"Have fun with the guys," you said as you abruptly closed the door.

*******

You can't believe they left you behind. No, Dean decided it would be best to leave you behind. You're sure he thought he was doing you a favor, letting you have the whole place to yourself. One thing's for sure, you think: You're going to get some cleaning done while they're gone. So much easier when they're not following behind you, messing things up again after you've just cleaned.

Two hours later, you had cleaned the main living area, the library and the kitchen. By this time, you were getting hungry. After a quick check of the pantry and fridge, you decided to do a supply run. Up and down the aisles you walked, checking things off your list as you put them in the cart.

You wandered over to the aisle with the chips, crackers and other snacks. You put some cheese crackers, some gummy bears and a couple of bags of potato chips in the cart. Then you went to the liquor department and picked up Dean's favorite kind of beer. Might as well get him stocked up for all this time away from me. Wouldn't want him to starve to death while he's avoiding me, you thought.

You brought the groceries into the kitchen, which was no small feat, considering how much you'd bought. By the time you put away the regular food items, you started feeling a little tired. You decided to take the supplies down to the "Dean Cave," put them away and hightail it out of there. Wouldn't want to get caught where I'm not wanted, you thought. Then, I can take a shower and go to bed. Hopefully the guys will be home in the morning.

The crackers, chips and gummy bears went into the cabinet, while you put the beer in the mini-fridge. You took a good look around and were amazed at how cool the place was. There was a pool table in the corner, and two really plush leather recliners, front and center, facing the TV. A gaming system was hooked up, ready to be played.

You ran your hand over the leather of the recliner and decided to test it out. You sat down, reached over for the handle and kicked out the foot rest. You closed your eyes and marveled at how comfy the chair was. You told yourself you were only test-driving that baby for a few minutes, but the tiredness caught up with you, and you gave in to the exhaustion.

**********

Sam and Dean finished the hunt early, since there was really nothing to it.

Dean walked down the spiral staircase, half expecting you to be waiting at the bottom. Although, after what Sam had told him about your reaction to their hunt, Dean figured he'd be lucky to see you at all.

He went down the hallway to your room to clear the air with you about what had been happening the past few days. Your door was open, but you weren't inside. He called out to Sam to ask if you were in the kitchen; he said you weren't.

Dean was starting to get worried, until he saw the glow from the lights in his cave. He crept down the stairs, not knowing what to expect when he got there. The door to the cabinet wasn't fully closed, so he looked inside. You had put some snacks in there for him. He saw the empty cardboard that used to hold beer, so he peered into the mini-fridge. Twelve amber bottles were neatly arranged, getting chilled. That sweet lovin' woman, he thought.

Sam had wandered down to the cave, so Dean showed him the cabinet and mini-fridge. "I still don't know where she is, though," he said. Sam chuckled and pointed at the recliner where you were sleeping.

You looked so peaceful, your chest rising and falling with every breath. Dean reached over and brushed a lock of hair away from your forehead, which caused you to stir and your eyes to open. Shock registered on your face as you realized you'd been caught with your hand in the cookie jar, so to speak.

The foot rest was down in a flash, and you bolted out of the chair and back up the stairs.

"Wait!" Dean called after you.

***

Crap! You'd never meant to fall asleep! You guessed you were just so tired from all that you'd done for the day, that the buttery leather chair relaxed you.

You heard Dean calling after you, but you weren't going to stop until you reached the door to your room. If there was one thing you didn't need right now, it was a lecture. One about respecting other people's private spaces and not going where you clearly weren't invited.

Dean finally caught up with you and tried to take hold of your arm, but you pulled it from his grasp. "What, Dean, what? So, fine, you caught me in your precious 'Dean Cave.' I've been working my ass off today, cleaning while you were gone. Then I went on a supply run, and I'm so annoying that I even got some snacks and beer for you. That way, you can hide out in there, where you don't have to see me," you huffed.

"What are you talking about, 'where you don't have to see me'?" Dean asked.

"I heard you say that to Sam as you were taking the TV downstairs. I was only going to sit in your recliner for a few minutes. I never intended to--"

And he cut off your rant with a kiss.

It was slow and tentative at first, as if testing the waters. Then, as he dove back in, it was as if somebody had turned the intensity dial up to about 11.

"Whoa," you breathed. "What was that for?"

"How else am I going to get you to stop talking for five seconds, so I can tell you I'm sorry?" Dean said. "You must have heard me say something about hanging out in the cave. That it was so I didn't have to see you all the time." You nodded, confirming everything he just told you. "I can see why you'd be upset after hearing something like that." More nodding from you.

"But, sweetheart, what you didn't hear is why I didn't want to see you everywhere. It's because I love you, and I can't get your beautiful face off my mind. You're my first thought when I wake up in the morning, and my last one before my head meets the pillow.

"I've been so afraid of being around you. I was afraid I'd do something stupid to mess up our friendship if you didn't feel the same way. That would just about be the end of me, I think," he finished softly.

Your head was reeling from Dean's heartfelt confession. "Sweetheart, please, say something," he whispered hoarsely.

"After what I'd heard, I didn't even think we were friends anymore. I'm so glad that's not true, because it would break my heart as well. All I've ever wanted for you is to be happy. Whether it's with some other girl, or just playing video games with Sam until your eyes bug out," you chuckled. "I love you, too, Dean. I have for a long time, but I've been afraid to tell you."

Dean wrapped his strong arms around you in a warm embrace. "What a pair we make, huh?" he remarked, his hand caressing your cheek.. "Two legit bad-ass hunters who take on all kinds of monsters. But what we're really afraid of is love."

You smiled as you looked into his mossy-green eyes. "I'm not afraid anymore, Dean. Now that I have you, I can conquer the world." You brought your hands up to his neck and gently tugged him down for a soul-searching kiss.

#deanxreader #dean winchester x reader #spn imagine #spn fluff #supernatural #dean winchester

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roobierubyroobieruby · 5 years ago

Text

Clean

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2,655

Warnings: angst, awkwardness, resolution?

Summary: It’s been 3 years since you last laid eyes on Steve, last had contact with him. Now you had to be in the same room for Wanda’s birthday and you had no idea how it would feel to see him again after how it had all ended.

A/N: So this is a continuation of “I Remember It”, however either could be read on their own or sequentially. I was originally going to leave IRI as a solo but the person who inspired that fic had to make a reappearance and I came face to face with them for the first time since IRI’s events. I also had a request to write some form of conclusion so I felt it was time. As Taylor Swift was the lyrical inspiration behind IRI, it’s only fitting she is the lyrical inspiration for this one (“Clean” by Taylor Swift). Here is the resolution, I hope it’s everything you need anon, because it was for me <3

The drought was the very worst (ahh, ahh)

When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst

It was months, and months of back and forth (ahh, ahh)

You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore

“Dinner at the tower?” You hoped the nerves weren’t showing through your voice. Wanda’s birthday was coming up and she wanted to have an actual celebration since everyone would be here at the same time for once. She excitedly nodded, clasping your hands.

“Please come, I want to have everyone I love there!” She had honed her gift over the years, now keeping the minds of those around her locked out unless she was told she could listen in. You had no need to worry she’d hear the fearful thoughts that he will be there.

He will be there, which means Sharon will be there, and they will be there together. He will be there, in the same room as you, for the first time in the 3 years it had been since he disappeared from your life. It had been 3 long years of repairing the damage he’d caused, learning to trust and love yourself again, and trust others once more. No easy feat given the life you had before this one. You had been making strides, doing so much, and now this was the test to see if you could withstand his presence and not let it topple your progress. He was a storm in your life, but now you’re a hurricane.

“Of course I’ll be there! As if I would let you celebrate without me!” Pulling her into a tight hug, you buried thoughts of him in the dark box in the corner of your mind with his name on it.

Hung my head, as I lost the war

And the sky turned black like a perfect storm

Sitting on your bed, laptop and papers scattered across the blankets, your mind kept coming back to the dinner. You had 3 weeks to prepare yourself in the hopes that your 3 years of learning to accept what happened and move on would be enough to be unshakeable in his presence.

You couldn’t help but wonder what would happen. Will he ignore you, a ghost in the room? Will he try to talk to you as if nothing ever happened? Will it be noticeably awkward as the two of you move around the room, hardly coming within 10 feet of each other, somehow even at the small dinner table?

You had never officially met Sharon either, only heard of her. You had to wonder if she knew anything of your time with the team. If she knew about you.

You had too many questions, too many variables to consider, and none brought you peace. No path felt like it was the right one to take. It all led back to the storm.

The rain came pouring down when I was drowning

That's when I could finally breathe

And by morning

Gone was any trace of you

I think I am finally clean

The dreams had been coming gradually. At first, his face only made a fleeting appearance, or you thought you’d heard his voice call out to you in his dreams.

As the days sped by, taken up by missions and work, they came more frequently and intense. That sweet smile of his, or comforting words telling you how important you were to him, that you were capable of anything. Telling you he loved you, how he had nightmares of you leaving him, never wanting to be the first to let go.

Then you’d wake up. You could still feel the slight sting in your chest when you thought of everything that happened, and you wondered if you’d ever feel ok again. You longed to feel nothing, for indifference, but you couldn’t wish it never happened. You didn’t know where that left you on the spectrum of moving past it all.

Staring at your calendar on your wall, you could feel the ball of tension in you ready to snap. Tonight was the night. You had come home late from a mission, using the morning to rest and debrief, so you’d hardly had time to yourself. You supposed it was a good thing, it meant you couldn’t work yourself up even more over the ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ of the night.

You couldn’t put it off any longer. You had delivered your present to Wanda in person, the dread of catching a glimpse of him almost breaking through your calm demeanor. Wherever he was, he stayed there, giving you a quick and clean exit from Wanda’s room. Now back at home, you categorically started doing your makeup to give your mind something to focus on.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you wanted him to regret what he did. You hoped he’d see you and wish he’d stayed, at the very least kept you in his life.

You opted to leave your hair down and natural, feeling less exposed. You were already on edge, the knot in your stomach getting tighter as the minutes ticked by. Hastily pulling on a black bodysuit with long, high-waisted, tan flare pants, you slipped your black heels on and scraped your things into your handbag. Time had officially run out, you had to go.

There was nothing left to do (ahh, ahh)

When the butterflies turned to dust that covered my whole room

So I punched a hole in the roof (ahh, ahh)

Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you

Nat had gone ahead, helping Vision to set up the dining area and cook. She was aware of how this evening was weighing on you, preparing to intervene at your request or steal you away if you needed a minute. Tonight was about Wanda, and you didn’t want to ruin that with something as trivial as a friendship-relationship-nothing situation from three years ago.

Shaking your head, you put in your headphones to drown out your thoughts as you navigated the streets and subways. You insisted on getting there yourself, wanting the time to prepare and settle your mind. The ritual of walking and trains calmed you, as the music washed over you and reminded you of everything that had happened since he’d left your life.

You let the songs bring forth the memories dancing at the bars with Nat, having netflix nights curled up on the couch with Shuri whenever she was in town. These were the memories that were important now. Any of him were just dust, trying to cover you and stifle your rediscovered vibrancy.

Music blaring, you thought about everyone else in attendance tonight. Tony would be there, always ready to liven up a party. Of course Bruce would be there too, giving you some much needed quiet comfort for when things get a bit too much. No one would look twice if the two of you slipped out somewhere quieter - assuming he would have just needed some space. Whilst you and Bucky were friends, you also knew his loyalty to Steve, so you knew he’d be as wonderful as ever, but you had to be wary that he would more than likely be by Steve majority of the time.

Tonight was about Wanda, he was inconsequential to this moment in time.

The water filled my lungs

I screamed so loud but no one heard a thing

Your heels clicked along the tower floor, elevator doors already open and waiting to take you up to the avengers’ old living quarters.

You evened your breathing, steeling over your face to hide the feeling you were suffocating. The floor numbers climbed higher and higher, the silence of the elevator making the ringing in your ears that much louder. Holding your phone in your hand for an easy escape, your stomach lurched as the elevator came to a halt.

Countless times you had ridden this elevator, and none felt as precarious as this time. Keeping your face passive as the doors slid open, you took a quick cursory glance to find no one waiting for your arrival.

You let loose a sigh of relief. That meant they were all in the main area, so you had plenty of escape options if you needed it. You could hear the food preparation still ongoing, murmurs of conversations broken up by loud peals of laughter. You had the briefest feeling of coming home before you remembered the reason you left home to begin with.

The rain came pouring down when I was drowning

That's when I could finally breathe

And by morning

Gone was any trace of you

I think I am finally clean

I think I am finally clean (ahhhhh, ahh)

Said I think I am finally clean (ahhhhh)

Bruce was the first face you saw when you came around the corner into the main living area. You eagerly waved, heading straight for him when you saw someone move out from the kitchen to stand by his side.

You halted, ever so slightly, your energy focused on keeping your emotions under control to remain the picture of calm and unaffected. The moment you had been dreading had arrived sooner than you had anticipated, and now it was trying to meet your eyes.

You knew this first moment would set the tone for the night, and for the rest of this narrative. You would not bend or fold to him. He had been the one to dictate your friendship, both when it started and when it ended, plus everything in between. You would not be the one to make any moves here. He destroyed everything, it is up to him to admit to the damage and make a choice.

You breezed right past Steve, wrapping your arms around Bruce in a hug before settling in on his other side to have light conversation. You kept watch for a sighting of Wanda, eager to put some distance between you and Steve. You hadn’t expected him to be so close so quickly, you needed space, but you didn’t want to be the first to move either. It felt like you were admitting defeat if you moved because of his presence. You had already done it once.

As you and Bruce spoke, you could see Steve attempting to interject. Turning inwards ever so slightly to try and include himself in the conversation, but your staunch ignorance of his presence kept him at bay. After what felt like eternity, you saw Wanda’s beaming face across the room with Vision in the kitchen.

Excusing yourself from Bruce’s side, you strolled back past Steve and right into Wanda’s open arms, wrapping her tightly in your embrace.

“Happy birthday darling girl! I’m sorry I’m a little late, the subway was, well, the subway.” You shrugged, pulling back to give her a grin.

She waved you off, “it’s fine! I’m just glad you came so now everyone is here! Nat and Vision are almost done in the kitchen, they said I am not allowed to help so I’m mingling instead.”

Shaking your head, you laughed at the mental image of Nat scolding Wanda, cooking utensil in hand and all.

“I side with them on this one. It’s your birthday so you’re meant to be enjoying it! Go mingle, I’ll see if they need any help.” You gave her another quick hug before departing to the kitchen, knowing Nat will give you a job for entering her work space.

“Mash the potatoes.” You hadn’t said a word before she barked her order at you, a smirk playing on her lips. You mock saluted her before washing your hands and beginning on the potatoes.

Being in this moment felt like home. It felt like you were whole again. Clean slate.

Ten months sober, I must admit

Just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it

Ten months older, I won't give in

Now that I'm clean I'm never gonna risk it

Sitting between Bruce and Nat, hearing the various conversations and bursts of laughter, you felt at peace. Every now and then you felt his eyes on you, could feel him wanting you to see him and go about as if nothing ever happened. One part of you wanted to do just that, to hear your name pass through his lips again and smiling at you like you mattered to him, as if the last 3 years never happened and you were still the same old friends.

You couldn’t allow yourself to go back though, you had worked hard to be where you are and work through the damage he caused. You owed it to yourself not to let him have what he wants just because he wants it. He had his chance and then has had 3 years to fix things, and he chose not to. He made his choice, which wasn’t you, so now he has to live with the consequences because you are choosing yourself.

You were not going to risk yourself for the sake of his conscience.

The drought was the very worst (ahh, ahh)

When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst

Sharon was an attractive woman, and quite intelligent based on the little pieces of information you had heard about her. By all accounts, she was a very lovely and genuine person, and you could see why she and Steve fit together like they do. It almost seemed picturesque, a love he always wanted.

A small part of you buried deep wondered what might have been had he not made the decisions he had - would the two of you have grown closer until you were inseparable? Would he have been honest about his feelings instead of the weird little games of love and affection but only behind closed doors? Would you have ended up together?

All the possibilities died the day he left without a word. The part of you that had grown to love him, all of him, died with them. You couldn’t help but wonder if part of him had died also.

The rain came pouring down when I was drowning

That's when I could finally breathe

And by morning

Gone was any trace of you

I think I am finally clean (x2)

The dinner party began to wind down with people starting to make their way home before the clock ticked over midnight. You hugged people, saying your goodbyes and promises to catch up soon, your heart feeling full from seeing these people who felt like family.

Again, you could feel him just off from your periphery, staring over at you and wondering if you would make the first move and say goodbye. It took almost everything out of you to ignore him, to keep such tight control over the hole in your chest that was aching for you to see him and hope he would acknowledge what he did and apologise.

You also knew that it was an apology you would never get, because he had moved on with his life as sure as you had begun to move on with yours. You were now two pieces of separate puzzles, fitting into different masterpieces of your own designs.

There was no place for him in your life. You were clean of him.

Finally clean

Think I'm finally clean (ahh, ahh)

Think I'm finally clean

The journey home was weightless. You recalled the heavy ache in your chest the closer time moved to the party, and now it was gone. You contemplated if you might have felt better had you been able to look him in the eye and felt nothing, however you reminded yourself to be proud of the steps you had taken.

You may not be indifferent about him, but you did not want his approval anymore, or his validation - you were content with who you had become. You were clean.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers reader insert #reader insert #marvel #avengers #captain america #marvel reader insert #avengers reader insert #captain america reader insert #angst train #taylor swift song fic

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thats-how-i-role · 4 years ago

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I’m EXCITED. Also this writing piece is kind of all over the place 😬😬

Jem often asked themselves, how the hell did I end up in this situation? And genuinely, ninety percent of the time they couldn’t even try and understand it. The biggest issue is that they found themselves in a predicament, and there was no way out.

Jem with Lewellyn, the graceful witch with freckles and reddish-brown hair, was running down the halls after curfew. Jem wrestled the tiny beast known as a niffler underneath their cloak. Lewellyn made sure to peak around corners to assure that they wouldn’t run head first into a monitor or teacher.

The entire time, underneath the cloak the niffler tried to grab coins and basically any other shiny item in Jem’s pockets. Jem attempted to grab the beast’s hands in order to keep the small amount of cash that they possessed.

“Jem.” Lewellyn snapped in a hushed tone. “Hurry up, if we get caught my parents are gonna be so mad at me.”

Jem gave her a short glare, “It feels like I’m grappling a small badger, please give me a break.”

“I take offence to that, serpent boy.” Lew quipped, moving down towards the hall. “Where are we even putting this thing?”

Jem grumbled, “He’s not a thing Lew, his name’s Elgar and he deserves to be respected.”

“He stole my family ring!” Lew argued playfully.

“He gave it back!” Jem tried very hard not to laugh.

“You tipped him upside down until it shook out. Along with,” Lew began listing things as she counted them on her fingers, “Romy’s prefect badge, your knife, Mercy’s ring, the list goes on.”

Jem playfully bounced Elgar the Niffler in their arms, “Its not his fault, it’s just his nature.” Lewellyn laughed again, petting the little guy on the head. “And, I have no idea. Alveyn said there was a secret room somewhere around here on the map.”

“I don’t suppose you brought the map with you?” Lewellyn questioned, which Jem just shook their head. “Okay, we just need a cage. How hard can it be to find one to use until morning?”

“I don’t want to cage him. Isn’t that slightly inhumane?” Jem mumbled, stroking Elgar’s back. “Maybe just an animal pen?”

Lewellyn breathed out a laugh, “Jem, don’t you think that’s even less likely to find?”

Jem shrugged, still pouting slightly. “Maybe... yeah, okay.”

Lewellyn’s gaze became fixed on the large double doors the two had just passed by. Her brows furrowed in confusion but Jem was too focused on Elgar to really notice anything. Not that Jem hadn’t been paying attention. But it was obvious that the two were too engrossed in their conversation to notice the solid, stone wall turn into two iron doors.

“Jem, do you know where this leads to?” Lew asked, resting her hand against the doors to prepare to open them.

“There’s no doors around here.” Jem shook their head in amusement. But when Jem lifted their head up and saw them, their jaw dropped. “Oh.”

The two friends pushed open the doors simultaneously and revealed a large room, with a mirror stretching along one wall. The mirror was chipped and cracked in several places, but still standing strong. It had stone floors and dark grey walls. On one side of the room was a large, wooden pen with a solid gate.

Inside the pen was a stack of gold and jewels that Elgar began squirming in Jem’s arms to get to. For comfort, there was a cushion on the floor, and blankets rested on the pen’s wall. Lew and Jem shared a confused look, but continued on nonetheless.

The doors closed behind them automatically. This time, they watched as the doors blended into the wall and disappeared. Jem let go of Elgar, who immediately scurried across the room to climb inside the pen.

“What is this place?” Jem asked, still in awe.

Lew shook her head in amazement, “I think it’s known as The Room Of Requirement. I read up on it last year, but I thought it was just a fable.”

Jem watched with a bright smile as Elgar dove into the stack of gold, his little butt sticking out since he went in head first. “I think this is my new home for the night.” They turned towards Lew, “Thank you for doing this. Putting up with me in stressful situations is a feat within itself. But uh, I think I got it from here.”

Jem walked over to the pen and lifted one of the blankets off of the wall. Lew followed, grabbing one of the other ones with a soft smile. “Well, I’m not gonna give up on you guys now. And it’s probably safer just to stay here and not get caught.”

“Well Lew, how scandalous. Staying the night, with a boy? What would your parents say?” Jem quipped, which earned them a slap in the arm with a blanket.

“Who said I was staying with you?” Lewellyn shot back. “Elgar seems like a perfect cuddle buddy.”

“If by perfect you mean you wake up to being robbed blind, then yeah. He’s a model citizen.” Jem laughed, using grabbing another blanket and keeping it folded up to use as a pillow.

The two made their beds for the night and curled up, not too close to each other, but enough for them to be able to hear each other’s breathing. Jem couldn’t really sleep though. Discovering this room, no matter how impractical it’s current use was, seemed to be a blessing for future events to come.

*A month later*

Upon entering, Jem and their closest allies examined the room. Now, without the pen for Jem’s magic buddy but still with more than enough space for their group and then some. As the doors shut behind the party, everyone examined the terrain.

“So, what do you think?” Jem asked, a little nervous.

Aerilyn shrugged but said, “I don’t appreciate being brought to a secret, secondary location Morale.”

“That’s not- okay.” Mercy politely commented. “Jem, why did you bring us here?”

Jem stared at themselves in the mirror, feeling good about themselves for the first time in a long time. “This world is falling to shambles. It has been for a long time. But when we inherit it, we can’t just stand idly by while death eaters plague the streets. Harm muggle-borns and good people who never deserved it.”

“You really expect us to be able to do that?” Volstigg asked in clear disbelief.

“I think we can start.” Alveyn defended, stepping up and resting his hand on Jem’s shoulder in support. “Revolutions have been started with less people. I mean, all we need is a cause. And then we can figure it out along the way.”

“Absolutely.” Lewellyn pitched in. “And it doesn’t have to stop here. We have friends from our houses that I’m sure would join us. Hell, we could probably even ask a teacher or two and they’d support us. I mean, it’s not like we’ve had glowing reviews for our DADA professors.”

Jem nodded, their heart warmed by the support from their friends. “I didn’t bring you all here to put you on the spot, or demand you join my army. I brought you here because there’s nobody in this entire world I trust more than you guys.” Jem made eye contact with Umbra, who gave them a nod in solidarity. “You can leave and I want you to know that it won’t affect our friendships. But, if you believe in this cause as much as I do, please, stay.”

Alveyn was the first to take out their wand and put it in the centre between everyone. Jem and Lew followed soon after, and eventually the whole party did. Jem was almost moved to tears by the show of support.

If only Jem knew who they brought into what was supposed to be a safe haven.

#campaign 1 #jem #Lewellyn #Alveyn #Aerilyn #Volstigg #mercy #umbra #au week #Harry Potter au #my art #my ocs #my writing

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ask-de-writer · 4 years ago

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Genii’s Junk (1 part) – A tale of the Bizarre Borderland

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the Bizarre Borderland

GENII’S JUNK

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

2581 words

Writing begun 06/19/14

From an idea by Alte Seely, who wondered what a Bizarre Borderland junk yard would be like.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of fan activity including but not limited to art, stories, musical compositions, plays or anything else is ACTIVELY ENCOURAGED.

///////////////////////

There were a few old, gnarled trees out in front. The building itself was totally unremarkable. Just an old, cheap sheet metal structure. The peeling, sun-faded sign read “Genii’s Junk – Worth anything or not, I buy it or sell it. If you need it, I have it. But it may need work!”

I parked in the shade of one of the trees and strolled into the slight gloom of the cool interior. There were dozens of racks holding the multitude of things that Genii wanted to keep out of the weather. The sun in Border County is infamous for destroying anything that it shines on, if it shines long enough.

It had obviously not shone on Genii enough to do any harm! Lovely young looking lady. Appearances are deceiving. She is lovely enough to look at, yes. Young? Define your terms. I know for a fact that she helped to found the Ottoman Empire. Lady? Try calling her human if you want an earfull of excellent profanity without a single sleazy four letter word.

Like everyone in North or South America, if you trace back far enough, there are immigrants in the woodwork. Genii is one, sort of. She has been in the same location since at least 1530. That is the year, not the time on a 24 hour clock.

She told me herself that Cortez was one cranky customer.

Today, there was a slight individual with a large head hidden by a bigger hat at the counter. Genii had the oscilloscope and a big, hundred function multimeter out on the counter and three big power leads with clamps and adapters.

A long, too many jointed finger pointed at a stud on the device sitting on the counter. His (?) somewhat squeaky voice demanded, “Positive One go here! Not over there, stupid human!”

Genii’s lovely face curled into a snarl, showing her many fangs. “Watch who you call HUMAN, you gray trash!”

Settling some, she explained patiently, as if to a retarded three year old, “This is the anti-gee element of a 1942 Star Sweeper. From 1951 on, you are right. For any earlier models, if you want to do that test hookup, put your gold on the counter now. You will not be alive to give it to me later but you WILL have destroyed the unit.

“This is from one of the two that US Airforce took down outside of Roswell in 1947.” She turned to a LONG shelf of manuals and other books that sat on top of the massive number of scroll pigeon holes. Taking down a much thumbed manual, she expertly flipped through pages and pointed to a picture for the customer.

“There. Manufacturer’s Manual for the 1942 Star Sweeper. Hookup diagram and warnings…” The Gray examined the manual in something like shock.

“Where you get this? I give you two pound gold for it.”

With a sour expression Genii pointed over her shoulder at a sign in at least a hundred languages. One of them was the same as the one in the book. It read, “NO WRITTEN MATERIALS FOR SALE AT ANY PRICE!”

He (?) started to say something more, while trying to put the manual under his (?) coat. Genii, with a disgusted look, leaped over the counter like an acrobat. She hit the customer with both feet at shoulder level, flattening him (?). She took back the manual and hopped back across the counter to put it away.

She also took the device off the counter and lifted the oscilloscope back to its rack of test equipment.

The test leads and other gear went neatly back to their places. Brightening, she turned to me.

“What can I do for you today, Jimmy?”

Flipply I replied, “You could sell me your bottle, my dear, but I have heard a rumor that your personal home is not for sale.

“Actually, I was looking for a carpet. Something that isn’t a Belgian knock-off of a real carpet.”

Lighting up, she asked, “Hand loomed and knotted or machine made?”

“Hand knotted, I think, Genii.”

“What about a dubious one? I have one out on Aisle 34, about a four or five hundred yards down. I’ll loan you a yard wand to get you there. It is between the NC-2 and the De Haviland bomber. There is a rack there. I am sure that you will have no trouble finding it.

I snickered. “Anything on YOUR aircraft rows is fun. What do you have that is new to you?”

Genii grinned in delight. How about an X-B70? It needs a little work!”

I chortled, and asked, “Which aisle? I should have no trouble seeing a Valkyrie if it is anything like reassembled.”

Genii handed me a wooden pole with a wide bicycle type seat and handlebars on it. With a grin, she said, “Aisle 36! Have fun!”

Leaving the disgruntled Gray behind, I took the handlebars, activating the “Yard Stick” and took off. In only moments, I found the Aisle 34 marker and swooped around the turn, scooting down the Aisle.

The NC-2 was a great locator. The giant WW I sea-going biplane was totally intact. It had a 103 foot wingspan. For wood and wire technology there were few that ever matched its sheer size and NONE that could match it for range and load.

It was meant to launch in Maine and fly antisubmarine patrol all the way to the Florida keys, non-stop. The Great War ended before it and its three sister aircraft were finished.

Congress canceled the contract without payment. Curtis (the C of NC-2) went ahead and finished all four planes on their own dime, while Congressmen all got on the “They will never fly” and “defrauding the War Department” band wagons. When all four launched from the factory in Virginia and flew up to Maine, the world was astounded.

When they refueled, they took on as passengers those few Congressmen and Navy personnel still championing the NCs as practical aircraft. They then flew, non-stop to the Florida Keys, exactly as designed, except that they were carrying almost a 20% overload in passengers, instead of bombs and depth charges. That feat blew away the whole world at the time.

It also shut up the NC program critics more effectively than if they had been hit by the bombs that the planes were designed to carry. Congress quietly tried to pass Curtis the money that they were due, so that the US Navy could claim the aircraft.

Later, the four made a trans Atlantic Flight. The NC-1 disappeared in thunderstorms. Some wreckage was found. The NC-3 was forced down at sea. It was taxiing on only two engines when found. The tow to the Azores caused enough damage to the plane that it could not continue.

The NC-2 got to the Azores a day before the NC-4. It refueled. The weather being good, it took off for Lisbon and was never seen again. The NC-4 landed in the Azores, refueled and later landed safely in Lisbon harbor, the first airplane to fly the Atlantic. It is now in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.

I made a note to ask Genii how she managed to get the NC-2 and set my yardstick down by the rack of carpets. They followed that old law, 90% of everything is crap.

Genii, as usual, was right about it not being hard to find the one that she had spoken of. It had a clearly later, and phony, Antwerp label sewed on. The work had been carelessly done. The metal needle used to sew the label on had damaged the port side lift and control spells, unless my Pocket Dowse and Spell Strength meter was wrong. Judging by the fringe and warp damage, it must have been some crash.

As I rolled up the carpet and strapped it to the Yardstick, I heard a warning siren. It was coming from the vicinity of the X-B70, whose huge nose and forward canards jutted above the intervening aircraft.

No chance to look at it, then. I headed back in to the shop. I got there just before the unearthly scream of the six monster jet engines being fired up. It sounded like the X-B70 was a live bird. If Genii was going to that much trouble, she very likely had a cash customer for it. I wondered who it was.

Sometimes Genii would talk about customers and sometimes not. It was never wise to pry. There was someone new at the counter. The Gray was still there. Still complaining.

Genii turned her back on him and told him, “You are right. I did not sell to you. I will not sell to you. You tried to shoplift PRINTED MATERIAL from ME! I have not let any written things go since Caesar screwed up our deal and BURNED the Library at Alexandria! You have only seconds left to get out of here alive! Go!” She was reaching under the counter when the Gray left - - at a waddling run.

Turning to the new man at the counter, she smiled very professionally and asked, “Sorry about the scene, General. What can I do for the Air Force today?”

Self-importantly, he replied, “What was that? It sounded like a jet engine test!”

Serenely, which is a bad sign with Genii, because it means that she is absolutely certain of her legal footing, Genii replied, “It was. X B-70 engine test. Starboard #2 engine began to develop vibration, so we aborted the test.

“It is ALL covered in my salvage contract. Do you need a copy?”

Sourly, the General replied, “Why bother? You can’t sell it if it is operational. Mass weapon laws.”

Smiling with her fangs but not her lovely eyes, Genii replied, “Loophole big enough to fly a carpet through, General. If I am not selling it on Earth, the laws don’t apply. I am not selling it anywhere that you have any authority.”

Voice hardening and chilling some, like maybe a glacier, she asked, “Do you have any actual business here?”

“Where are those ten computer stabilization systems that we ordered!” More a demand than a question. Bad way to make points with Genii.

Her face froze. “I have been forced to cut off all credit to the United States Armed Services. Proper notices were sent according to the contract. The reason given is failure to render payment of the agreed form or amount. Further, the Military Procurement Office has sent formal notice of refusal to pay and stated that I will receive only 1/10th of the outstanding total and that only by a check drawn on the Government.

“This has totally canceled our contracts and agreements. I filed a notice of repossession for all of the following items.”

She fished out a file box and gave the thunderstruck general a list. She also handed him a file of correspondence.

“That file and notice are copies of the originals. You may keep them or return them. Neither you nor any other armed service gets anything until I have my gold on the counter.”

I will give the General this. He took the whole file and settled himself at a large table. He began at the front and started working though it. Soon he was on a cell phone.

I was walking beside the Yardstick, guiding it with the handlebars. I brought it up to the counter and asked, “Got a Merlin S-multimeter, Genii? I want to check this out pretty carefully. I am certain that this is a Second Caliphate carpet but as near as my Pocket Dowse can show, the counterfeit label was sewed in with an Iron or Steel needle.

“Looks like that caused the control failure that made it crash.” I shook my head at foolishness. “Can you believe knowing enough to get a carpet like this and then sewing in the phony label for tax dodging with a steel needle? It shorted or blew out all the port side lift and control spells.”

Genii grinned hugely which showed off her big fangs wonderfully. She hopped across the counter again. She had five different willow wands and a very well worn Merlin in her hands.

She helped me to unroll the carpet. I showed her the weave and fringe damage that led me to think that the carpet had collided with something pretty solid at high speed.

Genii nodded agreement and plugged the biggest of the wands into the Merlin. Between us, we made sure that the original starboard spells were all intact.

The port side was a total loss. Between that steel needle and the impact damage that distorted the weave, and with it the spells, it was going to have to be totally reworked from fringe to fringe.

She looked up, shaking her head. “I got this out of the Lord Carleton Estate. I just paid a flat fee for it all. I was pretty sure of what this was but that was a LOT of stuff to sort. Drove my Yard Imps nuts.

“I just set it over in aircraft and hoped for the best. You lucked out, Jimmy. This IS a genuine and restorable Second Caliphate. I already have it priced.

“Yours for only five ounces.” She grinned again. I may be weird but I like Genii’s grin, fangs and all. She was holding out her hand.

Like a true gentleman, I dropped in three one troy ounce Krugerands and two Chinese Pandas. Genii, being Genii, closed her hand about them. When she opened it, the coins were gone and a receipt was in their place. It looked for all the world like a magic trick. Which it was. Real. Not slight of hand.

With the General expostulating fiercely into his phone in the background, Genii helped me roll the carpet snugly and secure it with straps for transport.

Carpet over my shoulder, I walked to the door. Looking out, the Gray and a companion were going over my rig, big jumper cables in hand. They were trailing down from the nearly antique Type A saucer hovering overhead,. They were trying to find the hookup points for a jump-start. One was gabbling in Gray, “No Anti-gravity! How it fly?”

Door partly open, I called back inside, “Genii! The Grays are trying to swipe my rig from your parking lot!”

Snaring her fiercest, Genii came barreling out past me. She had what looked like a shotgun in hand. The double boom sounded like a shotgun all right. The result was not your normal shot shell hit on the tough hull alloy of the Type A saucer overhead.

The blue fire blast was something to behold. A visible hole about a foot across started to trail smoke most impressively. The saucer tilted some and sailed across Genii’s Yard Fence. A few moments later the array of crashes and the crunch of failing metal announced the end of the saucer, and probably, some expensive junk. The Grays ran like rabbits while Genii was reloading. Definitely not normal shotgun ammo.

I stowed my find and climbed under the cloth sunshade of my rig and, taking out my control wand, lifted my old Mohgul Carpet and took off for home. As I flew, I reflected that if Genii had lost some junk in the crash, she had gained a whole, nearly intact Type A saucer for salvage. I think that she was going to come out ahead. As usual.

–THE END–

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the Bizarre Borderland

#GENII’S JUNK #Bizarre Borderland #modern fantasy #Written by De Writer

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ohdeputy · 4 years ago

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100 Letters PART IX

Arthur Morgan x John Marston

Words: 6,545

Read on Archive

Part VIII

The sky was a perfect shade of blue, with fluffy clouds that made John feel like he was sitting inside of a painting. He had spent the past few days enjoying the warmer breeze the wind carried alongside Albert’s presence. He was grateful for the man’s hospitality but had grown eager to return to the gang.

John hoped they were okay, not having heard any word from anyone since his arrival at Albert’s cabin. It wasn’t unusual, since they were undoubtedly just keeping a low profile, but he was uneasy nevertheless.

Luckily, most of the time Albert kept John preoccupied with helping him do his photography. It kept his mind free from the anxiousness he felt. John had become an assistant of sorts, aiding Albert in finding the best spots to photograph wildlife.

“Here?”

The sun shined down on John as he set Albert’s tripod on the ground amidst a clearing. The photographer’s head popped up from digging around in his bag, “yes, that’s perfect, Mister Marston!”

“John,” he corrected with a smile.

Albert gave a sheepish grin, returning to his bag once more, “right, apologies. John.”

John had spent their time together constantly reminding the other man to call him by his first name, yet Albert always retreated to his polite roots. It was certainly a contrast to what he was used to, not at all close to the usual treatment he received as a wanted outlaw. Of course, John didn’t believe the man to be naive, how he must know that the likes of him and Arthur were not like most other people. But Albert didn’t seem to care, at least he never voiced any concerns on the matter.

Albert came up beside John, holding the camera he’d retrieved from his bag. Carefully, he placed it on the head of the tripod, setting it up to angle slightly upward.

They were after the Pileated Woodpecker. A tough subject to capture, in Albert’s words. He thought that with their combined effort, he may be able to finally pull the feat off. John suggested this area, sure to travel to a dense enough part of the forest where the bird would likely be spotted.

“I’ve put some berries out in hopes of attracting one,” Albert motioned over to where he came from. “Now all that’s left to do is to wait.”

“Sure.” John stood beside Albert, following his line of sight to the tops of the trees.

Albert produced a pair of binoculars to search above them. Every once in a while he’d tense when it looked like he had spotted something, only to slouch in disappointment when it wasn’t the woodpecker he was in search of.

Eventually, John sat himself against a trunk of a nearby tree, patiently waiting in the comfort of its shade. He tried not to let his mind wander, instead, taking in the beauty of nature that surrounded them. He felt at peace watching the birds fly above, and the tiny squirrels and rabbits that scurried around the forest floor.

A small gasp escaped Albert, who pointed a finger toward a nearby tree, “there.”

John followed his gaze to where he gestured, seeing a ghost of white feathers against the trunk. Upon further inspection, he could make out a streak of red running down the head of the woodpecker. “Whoa.”

John slowly got up to get closer to Albert, who adjusted his camera to get a good shot.

“He doesn’t have any black feathers,” John quietly stated.

Albert gave a short nod, “right you are.”

“He doesn’t look like the other ones, he’s different.”

Albert pressed down to take the picture, sending a plume of smoke to the air with the sound of the shutter ringing out for a split second. Surprisingly, the ghost woodpecker didn’t fly off from the commotion, barely even flinching as it moved its head in their direction.

“It seems not only were we successful in finding one but stumbled across a rather rare variation of the species!”

John studied it, almost convinced that the creature was studying them back with intelligible eyes. He was beautiful but stood out like a sore thumb amongst the dark branches and leaves.

“Must be lonely,” John thought aloud. “Being the only abnormal one around. Are you not disappointed that he doesn’t look like the rest?”

“On the contrary!” Albert turned to smile broadly at him, “this particular woodpecker is a gift! You see, nature can be so exciting. Just when you think you’ve come to understand it, it throws you something unexpected. To find a bird different from the others is refreshing, such things should be cause for celebration in a world that can be so bland at times.”

John let Albert’s thought sink in, deciding he liked the other man’s perspective on it. He’d called it a gift, whereas others might’ve called it a flaw. He continued thinking about it for a while, lingering on his mind even as they packed up the equipment and took the decent walk back to their horses.

By the time John and Albert made it to the cabin, the day was coming to a close. He was starting to grow fond of Alberts simple life tucked away in the forest, but once again felt the anxious pull of not hearing from anyone back at camp. Luckily, the few days here had given his body the chance to heal, admittedly finding his current living arrangements much more agreeable. It was nice to sleep under a proper roof for once.

The next morning, John woke up alone without any sign of Albert. Upon entering the kitchen, he found a note in Albert’s writing saying that he took a trip to the post office and that he didn’t wish to disturb John.

Retreating back to the main room, John couldn’t help but study the odd things that cluttered the space. There were devices strewn about that he couldn’t name if he was asked to. No doubt more equipment Albert used for his photography. The whole house was like a museum that continued to mesmerize John with each following day.

Out of the corner of his eye, a picture on the front page of a newspaper caught his attention. He furrowed his brow, thinking his eyes to deceive him in seeing who he thought it was. Moving closer to the desk it lay on, he felt his blood run cold at the realization that he had been right. There, staring at John was a picture of Nico. His eyes dropped to the writing underneath which stated:

After months on the run, the Van der Linde Boys are still evading capture. With the events of the Blackwater Massacre still fresh in our minds and the murder of the innocent Heidi McCourt (pictured above), along with many others, we wonder why they are still at large.

John had to still his hand as he read, not believing the words on the paper. There was that name again, ‘Heidi McCourt’. It taunted him from the page, making him wonder where it had come from. Who the hell is Heidi McCourt?

Whoever she was, she wasn’t Nico. That much John was sure of. And as much as he was curious about the name, he was more annoyed at how clever Dutch’s story was. If Nico was working for the law, or the Pinkertons, there was no way they would admit publicly having her be associated with them. Her death would’ve only been tying up a loose end. Of course, John knew it was all a lie, wishing there was some way to clear her name. He wished he knew more.

Turning the page over, he continued reading under the bold headline of:

TWENTY-SEVEN DEAD AT THE VALENTINE SHOOTOUT. EIGHT LOCALS.

Eight locals?! John wondered to himself. Shaken to the core of how this was caused by the event he was present for only a couple of days prior.

Even if these locals did wield guns in defense of their town, he was sure Dutch would be able to avoid shooting one, never mind eight innocent people. His heart dropped a little at the thought of Arthur being there, too.

The Valentine shootout is believed to be the result of the earlier robbery of a Leviticus Cornwall transport coach, catching the attention of the Pinkerton Detective Agency in the investigation to whether the train robbery and Blackwater Massacre are in any relation to the same group of outlaws.

He tossed the newspaper aside, worked up from the anger that rose inside him. This was all Dutch’s fault. He was becoming this unstoppable force backed by greed and foolish choices that would be the undoing of their gang. It would only be a matter of time before his vicious nature would unravel out of control.

So overwhelmed by the contents of the newspaper, John almost didn’t notice the sound of Albert entering through the front door.

“Ah, John! Good morning, sir. Are you well?”

John gave a nod, “sure.” He tried to give the man a convincing smile as he forced his gloomy thoughts from his mind. He noticed a small parcel in Albert’s hands, curiosity piquing his interest.

“You pick something up?”

Albert looked down at the small package as if he had forgotten about it, “oh, yes! Some of my prints arrived today, would you like to see them?”

John nodded enthusiastically, and watched as Albert gently undid the string that tied the wrapping together. He then came over to sit beside John.

Albert unfolded the papers to reveal a short stack of photographs, picking up the first one which depicted a buck. Its head was up, with knowing eyes that seemed to stare right at John. His antlers reached toward the skies, complementing the mountainous terrain he stood in front of.

John couldn’t help from reaching to take the photo from Albert’s hand to inspect it more closely. “That’s amazing!”

“Ah, yes, I remember that buck. Gave me quite the challenge, he did. I originally was after capturing a deer, but couldn’t seem to shake this one’s attention. The nerve of the animal, tried to run me over! And almost succeeded, too.”

Albert lifted the second picture, “see, here she is.” He handed it over for John to see. Sure enough, this one showed a deer nibbling some berries from a bush, completely unaware of the camera.

“Oh,” Albert gave a little chuckle, already having moved onto the next picture. I think you’ll quite enjoy this one.”

John accepted the photo he held out, seeing an action shot of a coyote running off with Albert’s bag hanging from its mouth.

“Cheeky little thing, that one. If it weren’t for your friend, I’d have never gotten my things back!”

John looked up at Albert, “Arthur help you with this one?”

“He did, indeed! And with another, too. Let me see if I can find it,” Albert started shuffling through the photos in his hand, but John was distracted by the next picture in the stack. He blinked, smiling to himself a little as he came to the conclusion that this one was by far his favourite.

He gingerly picked it out from the stack, Albert letting him as he continued to search.

“It’s got to be in this batch somewhere, I know I sent that reel out. You see, there were these God forsaken creatures that almost killed me! Managed to snap a few good ones before they tried ripping me to shreds, though…” Albert continued talking, but John tuned out as he studied the photo in his hands.

It was a picture of Arthur, who was smiling. It was a genuine one, which proved to be a rare sight for John. Somehow the image alone made him feel butterflies in his stomach, the way his smile reached his eyes with how they crinkled. He was captured from the waist up, holding one hand on his hip and the other up like he was about to say something. It was a candid shot where he wasn’t looking at the camera, which probably made sense as to why Albert was able to print it. If Arthur had known, there was no way he would’ve let him.

John couldn’t tear his eyes away, Arthur’s image was always well captured in photographs. Most of the pictures they had growing up were group photos where no one smiled, not like this. This one rendered John in awe, the exact moment living on forever through the photograph. It made him wish he could go back in time and capture some of his favourite memories together.

“Here it is!” Albert produced a photo from the pile before noticing John’s attention on the one he already held.

Albert leaned over to look at it. “Right! I almost forgot about that picture, I got it printed with the intention of gifting it to Mister Morgan. He’s been so helpful with my foolish endeavour, I really felt I owed him.”

“Well, if I know Arthur I’m sure he enjoyed helping you, he’s too curious not to. He’s got so many stories about the people he’s met, I’m not at all surprised that you’d be one of them.”

Albert gave a little chuckle, “he is definitely an interesting man. Nevertheless, would you mind passing it on to him? I’d very much appreciate it.”

“Sure, yeah..” John got up to find his satchel, placing the photograph inside with the intention of giving it to Arthur. Eventually, that is. For now, he thought he might hang onto it. And even as Albert went on to ramble about the other animal encounters he’d experienced while taking their likeness, John thought about how none could compare.

A steady knock at the door made John suddenly look up and Albert almost jump out of his skin with an “Ahh!” Taking a moment to compose himself, he stood and went to answer the door.

“Hello, can I help you?”

“Hi. Is John here?”

John peered over to see a familiar form stood at the entrance, making him stand up abruptly. “Charles, that you?”

Charles noticed John, giving him a relieved smile before his eyes darted back to Albert.

“This is Albert Mason, a good man. He’s been helping me get back on my feet these past couple days.”

Charles gave Albert a stern nod, “Seems we owe you our thanks.”

Albert bashfully waved it away, “it was of no trouble, I assure you, sir.”

“Please, Charles.”

John swore he could see Albert’s cheeks heat up a little as he continued, “Well then, would you like to come in for a cup of tea, Charles?”

“Thank you, but I’ve come to collect John and I’m sure he’s eager to return-”

“Yes! Yes,” John interrupted, “how is everyone? Did everyone make it okay?”

“Everyone’s fine. Abigail and the little one are safe, Arthur was the last to join us.”

John let out a breath, “good, that’s good.”

Thank God, he was relieved that everyone made it in one piece. A new flood of anticipation for returning overcoming him from the news.

“I’ll let you say goodbye,” Charles said as he gave him and Albert a nod, retreating to the horses.

John turned back to Albert, “thank you, for everything. How can I ever repay you for the kindness you’ve shown me?”

Albert gave a modest shake of his head, “please, as I told your friend, it was of no bother. Might I say, I rather enjoyed the company.”

“Well then, it’s been a pleasure,” John held out his hand to Albert, who looked down at it for a brief moment before clamping it in a firm grasp. The other man’s eyes glistened a little before he pulled John into a hug. Caught off by the gesture, John hesitated before giving Albert a slight pat on the back.

Albert pulled back, already apologizing profusely, “sorry, John, forgive me. I just-I hope the world treats you a little kinder in future.”

John smiled slightly at that. Albert was a kind man that he was grateful to have met, even if it was under such a terrible circumstance.

“And please,” he continued, “if you ever find yourself in the area, do not hesitate to stop by.”

John nodded, “of course. Thanks again, Albert.”

Walking back into the makeshift bedroom in Albert’s cabin, he took one last look around the room. He’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t miss the comfort of the place.

Grabbing his gunbelt from where it sat idle for the past few days, John secured it around his waist before picking up his coat and satchel. As he left the cabin for the last time, John found Charles waiting by his horse for him.

He looked up when John approached, “ready to go?”

John gave a firm nod, climbing on the back of Old Boy.

“Let’s go.”

Charles took the lead, mounting and walking his horse in the direction of the pathway away from the secluded cabin. John looked back to Albert, who stood at the entrance. He waved them off, and John returned the farewell with a flick of his hand.

The two spurred their horses, leaving the cabin behind them in their pursuit of the main path. They eased into a steady pace through the countryside, careful to avoid any roads that were known to be busier.

John forced Old Boy to ride up next to Charles, “how’s the new spot? Is it a good place to lie low?”

Charles gave a stiff nod, “It’s definitely more secluded than the last place. I found it myself.” He looked over to John, “figured I could be the one to show you.”

Charles turned his gaze back to the road ahead of them once more. John noted the way his expression seemed more hardened than usual, brows creased to indicate his loss in thought. It wasn’t unlike Charles to be reserved, but John sensed something was bothering him.

“I’m glad you’re the one who came to get me, it’s good to see you.”

Charles’ features softened somewhat as his attention focused back on John, “of course. I’m glad you’re okay, do you remember what happened?”

John frowned slightly at the thought of what happened back in Valentine. “Not much, I, uh, wasn’t with Dutch n’ Arthur when everything went down with Cornwall.”

“I heard. I’m glad Arthur found you. From how he described the whole thing, you’re lucky to have gotten out of there.”

John nodded, feeling his skin crawl from the recent memory. “How much did he tell you?”

“Only a little.” Charles paused for a moment before adding, “he seemed.. off when we spoke.”

“How do you mean?”

Charles took his time in replying as if choosing his words carefully. “He seemed a little wary of how Dutch handled the situation. I don’t know if you heard about it after you escaped but they were calling it a bloodbath… awfully similar to Blackwater.” His deepened frown returned, “but this time it was just Dutch.”

“And Arthur,” John added, though it sounded almost like a question.

“Hmm.” Charles’ face screwed up slightly, “I don’t know. To be honest, Arthur made it sound like he got out of there pretty fast.”

John let the thought sink in, surprised when Charles broke the silence once more.

“We’re supposed to be avoiding trouble, not causing more. What was Dutch thinking? Why didn’t he just get out of there as soon as he could?”

It was rare to see Charles so shaken, taken aback by the fluctuation in his voice. “Where will it end? The moving, the running?”

He still avoided looking directly at John, making him think he wasn’t asking him as much as just voicing his concern. John could tell it upset him. Charles had only been running with the gang for half a year or so, clearly unimpressed by the recent direction the gang had taken with their poor choices.

John swallowed, wanting to reassure Charles but finding it hard to come up with anything to say. John was probably the worst of the lot of them to consult in, having no kind words to offer about Dutch.

Charles gave a heavy sigh, “I’m sorry, brother. You’ve got enough on your mind, I’m sure.”

“Charles.”

“Hmm?”

John slowed his horse until he came to a steady halt. Charles didn’t notice immediately, turning his head back toward John when he didn’t answer right away. He stopped his own horse, a look of interest dawning his face.

“What is it, John?”

Pressing his lips together nervously, John thought carefully about what he would say next.

“Back in Valentine, when Cornwall showed up… I was by some of his men. They threw me into an alley beside the saloon Dutch and Arthur were held up at.”

Attentively, Charles listened to what John was saying, waiting for him to continue. John drew a shaky breath.

“I could hear them talking from where I was tied up and… I thought Dutch was going to cut me loose, I thought-” he broke off the sentence as his throat tightened.

“What you went through,” Charles started, his voice softer than a moment earlier. “I couldn’t even imagine. It was horrible what those men did to you. But to feel abandoned by your family… John, I am so sorry.”

John shook his head, blinking away the tears that had started to form in his eyes.

“One of the reasons I joined this gang was because of the loyalty shared amongst its members,” Charles continued. “Dutch always said that no one gets left behind, and Arthur managed to get you out of there-”

“What Arthur did isn’t what I’m worried about. It’s Dutch, Charles. I fear if Arthur wasn’t there, Dutch would have left me behind.”

The words hung in the air, suddenly making John so aware of how bold they were now that they were spoken out loud. He studied Charles, scared that he may react as Arthur did when he mentioned the same concern over Dutch.

He hadn’t meant to admit his feelings about Dutch so openly to Charles, knowing the man respected him as much as most of their peers did. John had been reserved about Dutch all of his life but had become so overwhelmed with what happened in the past couple months that his actions had become brash.

Charles gave a slow nod, “I understand your concern.”

John exhaled in relief, not realizing the breath he held in anticipation, “you do?”

“Dutch didn’t speak about what really happened at Blackwater, and now he avoids talking about what he did in Valentine. It has me questioning his methods. Arthur seems a little shaken, and now you, too? I can’t ignore something like that.”

John felt a sudden buzz from his words, almost not trusting his ears to believe what he was hearing be true. “What do you think will happen next?”

Charles let out a deep sigh through his nose.

“I trust Dutch.”

John’s eyes dropped. He knew he did, yet the statement still dealt a hard blow.

“But I trust you, too. And Arthur.”

His eyes flickered back up to Charles, widened in surprise.

“For all I know, Dutch may not have had another choice. In Valentine and in Blackwater. But I think I’ll be keeping a closer eye on things. And if you notice anything, tell me. I will be speaking with Arthur, too.”

He straightened Taima back on the road, signaling that the conversation was over for now. “Come on, we should get going.”

With that, Charles urged his horse to continue moving forward. John followed, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than a moment before. To know that Charles had the slightest shred of doubt about Dutch made John want to cry from relief.

The thought that Dutch’s risky actions finally had repercussions, even if they were minuscule, gave John the tiniest flicker of hope that ignited inside his chest. The feeling was a foreign one that John hadn’t been acquainted with in a long time. His mind was racing at the possibilities of what it could mean, that maybe there was change on the horizon.

With all that in mind, he couldn’t help but feel a little scared, too. After the years of abuse he’d received from Dutch and losing the only people who could do anything about it, John truly believed he could do nothing but accept it. But now, now he didn’t feel as alone as he did before.

Pushing down his thoughts, he tried not to get ahead of himself. He didn’t want to get his hopes up over the matter, so, for now, he focused his mind on his and Charles’ surroundings.

The low sunlight dappled John’s skin through the sparse branches above them as they made their way through another cluster of trees. The forests they found themselves in now weren’t as dense as where Albert’s cabin lay tucked away and had a different look to them.

The air was hotter, with a humidity that made John’s shirt cling to his back as they rode to their new camp. The path in front of them turned to a dusty red and seemed to reflect in the sky above them. Or perhaps it was the evening casting the earth in its warm glow. Either way, John felt like he was somewhere far from where they once were.

He thought that they must be getting close now, seeing a white wooden sign pop up ahead of them. He glanced over it as they passed by, the paint chipped from being weather worn.

WELCOME TO THE STATE OF LEMOYNE

“You guys fled to a completely different state?” John turned to ask Charles.

“Yeah, better safe than sorry. We’re near the water up this way, it’s a good spot.” Charles nodded in the direction of where their new camp was pitched, steering his horse on a small pathway that led into another heavily wooded grove. John would’ve completely overlooked it otherwise, but once they continued deeper into the shade of the overhanging branches, the path widened into a clearing just before the shore of an endless lake.

"Clemans Point," Charles stated to John at their arrival.

He could make out the familiar bustle of people strung about. Their tents and wagons were more spaciously placed than at Horseshoe Overlook, with more room for the horses, too. A thick, old looking tree was planted right in the middle, providing a promising shelter from the hot weather they would be experiencing here.

John followed Charles to a nearby hitching post, sliding off to secure Old Boy to it. He’d only just managed a tight enough knot when someone came charging toward him.

“John? John! Oh, thank God!”

Abigail threw her arms around John, making him stumble back a step before catching his balance.

She was off of him just as fast, holding him at an arm’s length, “you’re alive!”

John nodded, “so are you.”

Abigail made a noise that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a stifled cry, her eyes glistening as she smiled widely at him.

“How’s Jack?”

“He’s good, he’ll be even better now that you’re back. Come, are you hungry? There’s still some stew for you.”

She took his arm, leading him through their new camp. John looked around, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Is Arthur-”

“He’s out with Dutch and Hosea,” she interrupted him before he could finish, giving him a knowing look. “I’ll tell you more once we get you some food.”

His shoulders fell, giving in as she pulled him along. On one hand, he was glad Dutch wasn’t around to watch him like a hawk, but on the other, he was a little disappointed that Arthur wasn’t around for his return. Things would likely go back to how they were before. As if the moment shared between him and Arthur at Albert’s cabin never happened and would never be spoken about again.

The simple task of getting a hot bowl of stew from the cooking pot to his tent proved harder than he thought it would. As Abigail brought him over, he wouldn’t stop getting interrupted by the other gang members.

Some of the girls called out to say how happy they were to see him again, followed by Reverend Swanson, who stumbled by to say the same. He then began quoting a verse from the bible that John was sure he wasn’t reciting right. Only to become distracted by something else and finally leave John alone. Then there was Sadie, who practically jumped him, wearing a smile he wasn’t too used to seeing from her.

“John! You’re back, we missed you!”

She didn’t hug him like how some of the others had, which he was a little relieved of since he wasn’t used to the sudden amount of affection. Instead, she gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“I have to say, I’m glad to be back.”

She looked different from the last time he’d seen her, wearing a bright mustard yellow blouse and dark brown pants with a worn looking gun belt loosely buckled at her hips.

“You look good, Sadie.”

Her expression was a little skeptical at first, not knowing the sincerity behind John’s compliment. When he gave her a little reassuring nod, her smile reappeared.

“Thanks! Arthur and I went shopping and I thought I’d get myself a pair of pants, since most of the men around here don’t do a very good job of wearin’ them.”

He gave a laugh, “you’re right about that.”

He barely had time to say goodbye to her before Abigail whisked him away again. Javier tried to call out to John, but she wasn’t having any of it.

“You two can bond once he’s had something to eat! For now, you shut up and play your damn music!”

The last thing John saw before being shoved into his tent was a distraught looking Javier clenching onto his guitar.

The world muffled around him once he was inside the familiar canvas walls. He didn’t think he would miss it, yet looking around to find his few belongings struck a little homesickness within him.

The few books he owned were stacked neatly on top of his clothing chest, no doubt by Abigail. Some other odds and ends of his belongings lay organized on his side table.

“Thanks,” John breathed out to Abigail once he sat down on his bed with his bowl.

She sat in the chair across from him, “eat.”

He did so, scarfing down Pearson’s stew faster than he ever had before. It almost tasted good from how hungry he was.

All the while, Abigail watched him, even once he’d finished and set his bowl aside.

“So,” he broke the silence. “How have things been?”

“Tense,” Abigail pressed her lips together, eye contact not breaking his. “People weren’t too happy to be moving again so soon. Especially under the circumstance of doing so.”

“I see,” John fidgeted with his fingers.

Abigail gave an amused huff, smiling at the corners of her mouth as she dropped her gaze.

“Arthur’s fine.”

“I wasn’t-”

“It’s okay, I know you’re wondering about him. I’m just teasing you by avoiding it,” her eyes were back on his, holding a mischievous glint within them. The amusement faded slightly, “he told me about what happened with you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am, only because of Arthur.”

She nodded, suddenly so serious, “thank God. I was scared when he showed up alone, not knowing what could possibly have happened to you.”

“I’m okay now,” he tried to reassure her.

“I know,” she let out a breath. “Waiting around was the worst part. I’m just so glad you’re back now.”

“Did Arthur say anything else?”

Abigail shook her head, “no, he mostly just checked in with me and the boy, made sure we were doing alright. He talked a little with Dutch, the two weren’t seemin’ too friendly toward one another when we first settled here.”

John tried to imagine how that must have looked, finding it hard to do so. Even though he knew Charles wasn’t lying to him about the fact that Arthur was clearly affected by what happened in Valentine, it was still hard to believe Arthur and Dutch butting heads over it.

A sudden thought occurred to John, confusion knitting his brows together. “If they don’t seem to be getting along too well, how come he’s out with Dutch and Hosea? What’re they doing?”

Abigail rolled her eyes, “they’ve gone fishing.”

His frown only deepened, wondering what the hell Arthur was doing by going out fishing with Dutch. A little offended at the notion, he tried not to let it show as he urged Abigail to continue, “they did?”

“I know, I know,” she raised her hands like even she didn’t get why they thought now was the right time for it. “The thing is, I think it was an olive branch from Dutch. This isn’t just any member of the gang, it’s Arthur we’re talking about. I don’t think Dutch wants to lose the trust Arthur has for him.”

John let the thought sink in. That sounded like something Dutch would do, and it angered him.

For a moment, he thought about telling Abigail about Valentine, and how Dutch didn’t hesitate to leave him behind. But he bit his tongue, the last thing he wanted was her going after Dutch with the full intention of ripping him apart.

“Hey,” Abigail tried to regain his attention, her expression displaying a worry as if she could read his thoughts. “Arthur’s smart, if he’s worried about how Dutch is handling things he’ll speak up. Hosea’s no fool either, he’s been keeping Dutch in check for years.”

John nodded, but it felt hollow. He knew Abigail was trying her best to reassure him, but he couldn’t stop from thinking about how deep it ran. If Dutch convinces Arthur to look past this… he wouldn’t know what to think.

He stared out of the sliver of the tent’s entrance, completely lost to the present. Not knowing what he expected to see outside, as if he might catch a glimpse of Arthur. Like the man would appear out of thin air just from being talked about.

“I know you care about him.”

John’s head snapped back to Abigail, “what’re you talking about?”

She gave a soft smile, “Arthur.”

He blinked, sputtering over his words in an attempt to respond, “well, I mean yeah, I-we’ve known each other a long time-I just mean I trust him as a fellow member of the gang-”

“I’m no fool, John, I see the way you look at him.”

Panic consumed John completely. He stared at Abigail wide eyed and short of breath, his thoughts running a mile a minute. John had never said the fact out loud, even repressing ever really fully comprehending it internally. It came as such a shock for Abigail to say it, seizing him because of how deep he had buried that part of himself.

He quickly tried to disprove her statement, but all that came out was an incoherent noise, suddenly not knowing how to string a sentence together. He felt heat rise to his cheeks, not even able to look at Abigail directly anymore.

“See, you’re getting all flustered just talking about him!” She held up a hand to hide her laughter.

“No, I’m not!” John yelled at her, jolting upright.

She stood too, shock taking over her features which immediately morphed into concern, “hey, it’s okay!”

“Did you tell anyone?!” John blurted out, still consumed by his fright.

“No, no of course not!” Abigail hesitantly reached a hand out to put on John’s arm. He let her, both of them lowering down in their seats again, then retracted her hand.

“You can’t say anything, please, Abigail, you can’t.”

“I won’t, John. Hey,” she moved so John was forced to look at her, “I would never do that to you.”

He nodded, swallowing dryly, “okay.”

When he thought his heart rate had returned to normal, another thought struck him. “But I don’t understand, didn’t you think that…we?” he pointed between the two of them.

“Loved each other?” She gave a little huff, “I hate to say it but you didn’t exactly sweep me off my feet, John Marston.”

He just stared at her, completely dumbfounded.

“Buuut I do think that deep down you care about me as much as I care about you. Sure, at one point I might’ve hoped for more, but I don’t feel that way anymore as much as you don’t.”

She moved forward to carefully put a hand on his arm again, this time her grip firm. “All I want is for you to provide for Jack and I. I’m not asking for us to be this perfect family, just to be there for us.”

“I, yeah but-are you okay with that? Me being with…” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence out loud.

“I want you to be happy, John.” There was a short pause before she continued, “you know there’s nothing wrong with you because of that, right?”

For however gentle her words were, he almost fell completely apart from them. His face contorted from an overwhelming sense of emotion that rendered him unable to respond.

Abigail was sitting before him, fully aware of who John was, and completely accepting of it. He didn’t think anyone could ever understand, yet somehow she did.

Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled her into a tight hug. He clung onto her, almost as surprised as she was by the gesture. It wasn’t like him to do something like this, but he felt there was no other way he could have expressed his gratitude towards her.

She pulled back from their embrace, but still held onto his arms, “I have to say. You and Arthur, it’s actually kinda sweet.”

Her voice was soft when she said it, making John want to die from embarrassment.

“Jesus Christ, woman-”

The opening to the tent abruptly whipped aside, interrupting them and drawing their attention. At the entrance stood Arthur, wearing an easy smile that immediately fell when his eyes landed on John and Abigail holding each other.

John quickly dropped his arms, “Arthur-”

“Sorry, I, uh, didn’t mean to interrupt, I’ll leave you two to it.”

“Actually,” Abigail shot up from where she was sitting. “I was just leaving.”

She gave John a brief look as she moved to exit the tent, “if you’ll excuse me.” She slipped past Arthur, leaving him to awkwardly stay behind.

Silence followed when neither of them said anything, only to be broken by Arthur when it had become painfully obvious.

“Well, I just heard you’d come back and wanted to check that you’re alright, which you seem to be so I’ll just be going then.” He was gone before he’d even finished what he was saying, the tent flap falling into place after his rushed escape.

John let out a heavy sigh, letting his head fall into his hands. He cursed himself for being such a damn mess, knowing that that could have gone way better.

#morston #arthur morgan/john marston #arthur morgan x john marston #rdr2 fanfic #morston fanfic #Arthur/John #jarthur

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hellyeahheroes · 5 years ago

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Building Jakeem Johnny Williams in D&D 5e

I finished something that took me waay to long this week, the X-Men stuff makes me mad and I need to put it out of my head for a moment or I spend whole night ranting about fascist narratives in that title, I wanted to do at least one or two builds in this series in Black History Month, this idea was on my head for at least a month and this character just make a comeback in Teen Titans so this may be the best chance to drop a build for a character not as well-known as some and get noticed. This is a lot of reasons to say that....we’re building Jakeem Thunder today.

The goals for this build are pretty simple - we have to get Yz or Ylzk or just Thunderbolt as he is called. It shouldn’t be so hard, after all he is just an....interdimensional seemingly all-powerful being who can warp reality to his will. Okay, so that may be a bit hard. We’ll see what we can do.

Ability Scores: Just like Tulok the Barbarian I will be using standard Point Array - 15, 14, 13, 12, 10 and 8. If you or your DM would rather you roll or use point-buy or different array, go ahead and use these as guidelines, keep in mind you need at least 13 in Charisma, Dexterity and Wisdom

Strength: 8, Yz is doing all the heavy lifting

Dexterity: 13, you are quick to act, sometimes maybe a bit too quick

Constitution: 12, you go into battles against supervillains without any armor and survive.

Intelligence: 10, human average - you’re not stupid but you’re not the brains of most superhero teams either.

Wisdom: 14, you pretty much had to fend for yourself at a young age.

Charisma: 15, you’re a pretty likable guy despite your foul-mounted attitude.

Race, which D&D should rename to species long time ago - Jakeem is a human so we’ll go with Variant Human again. You get +1 to two Ability scores, pick Charisma and Wisdom. You get one skill, choose Persuasion and one feat of your choice. After some pondering, I decided to settle on Resilient, which can grant you +1 to Constitution and proficiency with a Constitution Saving Throw.

Alternatives: If you don’t want to play a boring old human then Half-Elf with its +2 Charisma and +1 to two other Ability scores (read: Constitution and Wisdom) or Protector Aasimar will do just fine. If you want to go full extra, Eberron’s Kalashtar is also an option.

Background: Yes, we’re doing an Urchin again. Jakeem’s mother died when he was a child, his father never knew he was even born and Jakeem himself is considered a latchkey kid. Don’t look at me, I’m not the guy who makes so many superheroes orphans. Urchin gives you proficiency with Sleight of Hand, Stealth, Disguise Kit and Thieve’s Tools. City Secrets class feature grants you an ability to half your travel time while within a city for you and your companions.

Class: Okay, so which class can give us access to a genie? Maybe the one that got a new variant that is literally about giving you access to a genie in January?

1st Level Warlock starts with proficiency in Charisma and Wisdom saving throws, two skills, I’d suggest Deception and Intimidation, and light armor and simple weapons. You also get to choose an Otherworldly Patron and I already spoiled we’re going with a Noble Genie fro January Unearthed Arcana. This new class variant has gotten some flack for being seen as stereotypical but I have also seen people of Arabian descent approving of it. Thankfully Yz just got his whole story turned into an incoherent mess by Adam Glass (I cannot believe I just wrote that with word thankfully in front of it) who decided that he is an actual genie ad brother of Djinn and his BBEG Elias and ALSO a 5th-Dimensional Imp as established before. Then again wiki search claims he was an alien at some point. This means that what you need to do is ask at your table how people feel about this class variant. If everyone is okay with it, play Yz as a genie. If anyone would be offended by it offer to take class features but play your patron as some interdimensional creature instead. Flavoring is half of the fun in building characters after all.

You get Collector’s Vessel, which you can determine to be a pen. If you lose it you can perform a 1-hour ceremony to get a replacement. You got Thunderbolt because Jay Garrick gave you a wrong pen he himself got from Johnny Thunder by accident, learn to not make their mistakes.

A number of times equal your Charisma modifier per day you can, as an action, link a willing creature within 100 feet to you for an hour or until you use this ability again, the target is reduced to 0 hit points or gets more than 100 feet away from you. When bonded like this you can choose to cast a spell from the target’s space and not yours and can add your Charisma modifier to your Perception checks. Use this to stay in the back while Thunderbolt is in the front line throwing spells right next to Shazam or Hawkman.

Speaking of Spells, you get Pact Magic. You know a number of spells you can cast...I mean, have Yz cast for you.... and have a limited number of spell slots and as you grow in levels they automatically increase with you, meaning you always cast the spell from highest slot available, up to 5th. Casting a spell burns down a spell slot, you get them back after a short rest. Cantrips, however, can be cast at any time as often as you want. If a spell calls for saving throw it is made against Save Difficulty equal 8 + your Charisma modifier + your Proficiency Bonus. The last two modifiers also sum up to your spell attack bonus, if a spell asks you for an attack roll. In addition to learning new spells you can exchange spells you know for another as you rise in levels, so if any of my suggestions doesn’t work for you, pass it out for something else. You get two spells known and two Cantrips

Prestidigitation gets you to perform a number of minor tricks for free, it is much more useful than you may think and gets you to have Yz do a lot of minor stuff easily.

Eldritch Blast is the best offensive cantrip in the game, on a successful spell attack roll target takes 1d10 force damage and on 5th, 11th and 17th level each you get to fire one extra blast each, at the same target or different ones.

Unseen Servant gets you for 1 hour to command an invisible force that gets to do a number of small and minor tasks. Again, use this to play Thunderbolt doing things for you.

Thunderwave was added to Warlock Spell list in Class Features Unearthed Arcana and forces all creatures within 15 feet fro you to make a Constitution saving throw or be pushed 10 feet away from you. Whenever they saved or not they take 2d8 thunder damage, the save merely halves it. You do not want baddies to get close to you, you’re squishy.

This is how I imagine Jakeem’s version of Eldritch Blast looks like. Just have Yz YEEET himself at people.

Let us go to Level 2 now. Since I talked about how you don’t want the enemies to get close to you, how about we do something about when they do? In a few steps? 1st level Monk gains an Unarmored Defense, making your Armor Class equal 10+ your Dexterity and Wisdom modifiers. You also gain Martial arts, which allow you to use your Dexterity in place of Strength for your unarmed attacks, have them deal 1d4 instead of static 2 points of damage and allow you to use your bonus action to make an extra unarmed attack when you attack with unarmed strikes or monk weapons. Not very in character but we will improve it in two levels.

3rd Level: on 2nd level Monks gain Ki Points in number equal your Monk level. At a cost of 1 ki point, you can take Dash, Disengage or Dodge as bonus actions, which will be helpful for the whole defense thing. You can also spend 1 ki Point to make two unarmed strikes as a bonus action immediately after an attack action. Your Unarmored movement also increases by 10 feet.

4th level is where we end our dip in Monk with its 3rd level. You get Deflect Missles feature - whenever you’re hit by a ranged attack you can use your reaction to reduce the damage by 1d10 + your Dexterity Modifier + your Monk level and if it is reduced to 0 you can throw the projectile back at the attacker as a ranged attack as if it was a monk weapon.

But the real draw of this level of Monastic Tradition and Way of the Astral Self. This allows you to call upon Arms of the Astral Self and have Yz punch your enemy in the face - it costs you 2 ki points, the arms last for 10 minutes, have a reach of 10 feet, deal radiant or necrotic damage as you see fit, can use your Wisdom modifier instead of Strength or Dexterity modifiers for attack and damage rolls, allow you to use that modifier for all Strength checks and saving throws and you can make a bonus attack with them as a bonus action.

5th level: Our trip into a Monk ensured Jakeem can survive if someone actually gets close to him but now it’s time to focus on all other things we want. 2nd level Warlock gains one new spell known - Hex has a casting time of bonus action, can last for 1 hour with Concentration, causes the target to be dealt extra 1d6 necrotic damage and imposes disadvantage on all ability checks of one ability you choose. If the target is dropped to zero hit points, you can move it on another target as a bonus action.

You also get Eldritch Invocations. Thief of Five Fates lets you cast Bane once per long rest using a spell slot. Lasting on concentration for up to a 1 minute this spell forces up to 3 targets within 30 feet to make Charisma saving throws and those that fail to roll a 1d4 they subtract from an attack or saving throw whenever they make them. Mask of Many Faces lets you cast Disguise Self at will, which for 1 hour, no concentration, lets you make yourself look as anyone as long as it’s a humanoid with a basic array of limbs as you and no more than 1 feet shorter or taller. It is an illusion so physical inspection will reveal the trickery

6th Level: 3rd level Warlock gains a Pact Boon and we’ll pick Pact of the Talisman. It modifies your Collector’s Vessel so now it allows you to add 1d4 to any skill check in which you lack proficiency. You can also give it to someone else so they get this bonus.

You get to learn your first 2nd level spell as well. Hold Person forces a target to make a Wisdom saving throw when you cast it and at the end of its every turn and unless it succeeds one it is paralyzed for up to 1 minute or if you drop concentration - they cannot take actions and all hits on them are automatically critical ones. This is great for Warlock because all your spell slots scale with you, meaning on higher levels you get to automatically target multiple targets with single Hold Person

You get one more Cantrip too. Chill Touch on this level deals 2d6 necrotic damage on successful ranged spell attack in form of a spectral hand. Until the start of your next turn, the target cannot regain hit points and if it’s an undead it also gets a disadvantage on all attack rolls against you until the end of your next turn.

7th Level: 4th level Warlock gets an Ability Score Improvement, you should have Wisdom and Constitution in odd numbers so round them up for better Armor class, Astral Self attack and damage rolls, concentration and Hit Points - remember, you gain bonus hit points retroactively as well as with next levels, meaning you’ll be getting 7 for all levels up to this moment.

You also get one more spell. Enlarge/Reduce lets you for up to 1 minute on concentration increase size of a target, granting them an advantage on all Strength checks and saving throws and deal 1d4 of extra damage. Or decrease the size giving them a disadvantage and reducing 1d4 of damage they deal. If you cast it on an unwilling target it gets a Constitution saving throw to resist the effect.

8th Level: 5th Level Warlock learns their first 3rd level spell. COunterspell is a reaction spell that lets you shut down an enemy caster’s spell level 3 or lower and if it’s of a higher level you must roll a Charisma check against DC 10 + Spell Level. Use this to have Thunderbolt save an ally from an enemy attack and get rest of the JSA happy they have you.

You also get a new Eldritch Invocation. Tomb of Levistus will be our last resort defensive feature. Once per short or long rest it lets you, as a reaction when you are hit with an attack, entomb yourself in ice and gain 10 temporary hit points per Warlock level that immediately take on as much damage as possible, but until the end of your next turn you are vulnerable to fire damage (note it specifies you gain this after taking damage that triggered this effect), your speed is reduced to zero and you are incapacitated. Since you lose a turn use this only if you’d be killed by an incoming attack.

9th Level: 6th Level Noble Genie Warlock gains Elemental Resistance, allowing you to once per long rest gain resistance to one type of damage from acid, cold, fire, lightning or thunder until the next long rest and you can share this with a creature you bond with using your collector’s vessel.

You also get one more spell. Hypnotic Pattern forces all creatures in 30-feet range from a place where you cast it to make a Wisdom saving throw or become charmed and incapacitated and have its speed turned to 0 for the duration, on concentration to 1 minute, or until it takes damage or another creature wastes an action to shake it out of it.

10th level: 7th level Warlock gains first 4th level spell - Blight will allow us to boost our offense by dealing 8d8 necrotic damage to a target, half on successful constitution save. It doesn’t work on undead or constructs but plant creatures and magical plants make the saving throw with disadvantage while other plants just die. The downside is now Poison Ivy and Swamp Thing want to have a word with you and Yz.

You gain another Eldritch Invocation - Dreadful Word gives you an ability to use a spell slot to cast Confusion once per long rest, lasting up to 1 minute on Concentration. Each creature within a 10-foot radius must succeed a Wisdom saving throw or cannot take reactions and instead of actions must roll what it does on a random table on each of its turns until the spell ends or it succeeds another saving throw at the end of each of its turns.

11th Level: 8th Level Warlock gains a new spell slot. Polymorph allows you to transform you or another creature into another creature of challenge rating equal or lower the target’s, it gains all features and ability scores of the new form for the duration, which is up to 1 hour on concentration.

You also get an Ability Score improvement, increase your Charisma for better saving throw difficulty and spell attack modifier.

12th Level: 9th level of Warlock means access to 9th level spells - Creation lets you create an object no larger than a 5-foot cube out of a material of your choice, the better the material the short it will exist. You can make a stone object for 12 hours all the way to an adamantine object for 1 minute.

You get another Eldritch Invocation - Minions of CHaos allows you spend a Warlock spell slot once per long rest to cast Conjure Elemental, which summons an elemental of Air, Fire, Earth or Water who is allied to you as long as you keep up your concentration - if it fails before the spell duration (1 hour) or elemental dropping to zero hit points, it turns on you because it is unhappy you dragged it from its home to do your dirty work. So if you want you can have Yz call buddies from 5th Dimension but be wary they can be unpredictable.

13th Level: 10th lever Warlock gets a Cantrip and we should increase our offense. Poison Spray forces a creature to make a saving throw or take 2d112 (3d12 from next level) of poison damage.

Noble Genie now gives you Protective Wish - once you bond yourself with another creature using your Collector’s Vessel you can, would one of you be threatened by an attack, use your reaction to make you two swap places. This may help you get out of the harm’s way and have Shazam or Alan Scott deal with whoever threatened to beat you up.

You also get Genie’s Entertainment. Once per long rest you can have Thunderbolt wisk away a creature to 5th Dimension where he will play with it for 1 minute and then bring them back unharmed. It can avoid it or escape by making a Charisma saving throw first when you cast it and then at the end of each of its turns, if it fails until the effect ends naturally, you regain a use of this feature

14th Level: 11th level Warlock gets another spell and a new spell slot. Hold Monster works like Hold Person but without a limit only to humanoid targets, but you will be only targetting one creature with it.

At this level, you also gain Mystic Arcanum, which lets you grab one 6th Level Spell you can cast once per long rest without spending a spell slot. Institute of Flame lasts up to 1 minute on concentration, gives you resistance to cold and immunity to fire damage, deals 1d10 fire damage to any creature that moves within 5 feet of you for the first time or ends its turn there and as an action, you can create a 15 feet long and 5 feet wide line of fire dealing 4d8 fire damage, half on a successful Dexterity saving throw.

15th Level: 12th level Warlock means an Ability Score Improvement, round up your Charisma. You also get an Eldritch Invocation - Bond of the Talisman allows you to give your amulet to another creature and then either of you can as an action teleport to where the other one is, as long as you are on the same plane of existence. So give it to Jay Garrick, have him get behind enemy lines, teleport yourself to him and have Thunderbolt YEET himself at enemy caster.

16th Level: 13th level Warlock gets a 7th Level Mystic Arcanum - works the same as previous one but for a higher spell level. Forcecage lets you trap any creature in either a 10-feet on a side box of 20-feet on a side cage with 1/2 inch bars 1/2 inch apart from one another, made of force that prevents leaving by any means other than teleportation or interplanar travel and those two require a Charisma saving throw to succeed.

You get another 5th level spell as well. Planar Binding allows you to bind a celestial, elemental, fey or fiend to you for 24 hours, no concentration. The target must make a Charisma saving throw or be bound to do your bidding for 24 hours before returning to their home plane. Bind an Elemental and bond it with your Collector’s Vessel for full Thunderbolt experience. Mind you, just like Yz can carry out your commands too literally, this creature can twist words too, as long as it doesn’t break the letter of the command.

17th Level: 14th Level Warlock gets our last Noble Genie feature - Collector’s Call. You can make a Persuasion check to convince Ylzk to let you cast legend lore without components or spell slot, give one creature within 60 feet disadvantage on attack rolls and saving throws until the start of your next turn or heal a creature for 8d6 hit points and end one of these conditions if it has them: blinded, charmed, deafened, frightened, paralyzed, or poisoned. You regain use of this feature on a long rest...or if you flat out bribe Yz with 500 gold worth of treasure.

18th Level: 15th Level Warlock gains 8th Level Mystic Arcanum. Demiplane lets you cast door to a room in another dimension, new one or one you created previously or even one made by someone else if you know its properties. Once the spell ends, which is after an hour, any creature inside it is trapped unless you cast the spell again. You can use this to trap your enemies, store objects or allies and so on.

You also get a new Eldritch Invocation. Shroud of Shadow lets you cast Invisibility at will, without spending a spell slot, making you or someone else invisible until they attack or cast a spell. You can also replace Mask of Many Faces with Master of Myriad Forms, which lets you cast Alter Self that actually changes your appearance not just casts an illusion.

19th Level: 16th level fo Warlock is our last Ability Score Improvement, choose to improve either Wisdom for better AC and Astral Form attacks or Constitution for more Hit Points and better Concentration.

20th Level: Our capstone is 17th level of Warlock for our last Spell - I don’t see anything good on 5th level so grab Banishment, which forces target creature to make a Charisma saving throw or be sent to another plane for up to 1 minute and then returning unharmed. If the target is not from the plane you are on it is sent back to their home dimension and does not return unless the spell ends early by you breaking Concentration.

You also get your mystic Arcanum for 9th level. Sadly Wish is not on Warlock spell list so if you cannot talk your DM into giving it to you grab Imprisonment. If target fails Wisdom saving throw it is imprisoned by you in means you describe. It doesn’t need to eat, breathe, drink or age and cannot do anything. The form of imprisonment must be agreed upon by you and your DM. If it succeeds the save it is immune to your future attempts. So now when Yz brother forces their sister to summon you in front of him you will lock him into one of his own rings instead f getting your ass kicked.

So this is my take on Jakeem - Pact of the Noble Genie Warlock 17/Way of the Astral Soul Monk 3. Now let us see how good this build is.

Pros: You are a battlefield controller, with multiple options to sew chaos among your enemies. You have multiple options to blast enemies at distance and punish those who get close. Your Hit Points are around 140 which isn’t bad, it will take one or two hits before you get in the range of dreaded Power Word: Kill and you are all about staying out of the action yourself and not getting hit while Yz does the punching.

Cons: A lot of your spells require Concentration and your Constitution is not that high, Resilient feat does a lot of heavy lifting here. Your AC is not that good either since we didn’t cap Wisdom and your Dexterity is low. Finally, you have a limited set of options to do actual damage.

But that’s fine, you are still learning. Remember you are more a trickster and strategist - not the guy who punches the devil in the face but one who makes him so confused he runs into Wildcat’s fist. Stay in the back and hurl Thunderbolt at your enemies and all you need is few allies that can be the frontline.

- Admin

#Dungeons & Dragons #Jakeem Thunder #DC

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companionjones · 5 years ago

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Choose?

Kind of requested by: @kuroakikitsune

Sort of request: It's cute but it feels like you skipped over all of the interesting bits, if that makes sense? (like how did they save Jack? etc- that could be a story or chapter on its own) :)

Fandom: Doctor Who, Tenth Doctor

Pairing: Tenth!Doctor x Companion!Reader x Captain Jack Harkness

Warnings: None that I can think of

Author’s Note: This came about on the comments of a fic of mine that I posted a while back. While I’m happy to write this, I would appreciate everyone future sending requests into my inbox. Thank you for reading!

Choose? is a mini-chapter to this post. It takes place towards the beginning of it, while the Doctor and Y/n are rescuing Jack from the alien planet.

*******

The Doctor and you stepped outside the Tardis’s doors, and were immediately shot at by lasers.

“What the hell is that?” you exclaimed as both you and the Doctor hit the deck to dodge the attack.

The Timelord puffed out his cheeks, then let the air out. “The Welcome Wagon, but it’s probably not a good idea to stick around for the cake. Allonsy!”

Both of you took off running.

After about ten minutes of action, you and the Doctor finally found a few seconds of shelter.

“So,” you gasped out as you tried to catch your breath, “you asked me how I wanted to spend New Year’s Eve. I decided I wanted yours and Jack’s company. Any idea where he is?”

He laughed, “Nope! Isn’t that fantastic?”

Before you could answer, new laser shots rang through the air. You and the Doctor’s heads whipped around to see down the hallway. It wasn’t a stranger alien. It was Captain Jack Harkness.

A grin broke out across his face as soon as he saw you. “Look who joined the party!”

Running to give the former time agent a hug, you then gladly stepped aside to be replaced by the Doctor. You missed the way the two men eyed each other, and how the following embrace was stiffer than yours had been. Other than that, it was a happy reunion. Well, until the three of you were shot at.

A few minutes later, the Doctor was trying to sonic open a very complicated locked door while Jack fought back against the aliens.

Jack yelled over the violence, “What brings you two to this neck of the woods?”

“Apparently, if we’re following the calendar from the day the Doctor picked me up, it’s New Year’s Eve. The Doctor asked me how I wanted to spend it. After a little deliberation, I realized I wanted to spend it with my two favorite guys in the whole universe.”

In response, you got a cute “Aw” from Jack and a kiss on the cheek from the Doctor. Right after, the Doctor managed to get the three of you through the door.

Once the door shut behind the three of you, the Doctor inquired, “Jack, may I ask why you are way out here in the middle of Galaxy 10642?”

The Captain chuckled, “It’s actually a funny story--”

Suddenly, the floor slid out from under you, and the three of you fell about two floors down. Luckily, the three of you landed on garbage that that was able to break your fall.

When you opened your eyes, you realized how dark your new setting was. You could barely see Jack, and he was only a few feet away from you.

The Doctor called into darkness, “Is everyone okay? Y/n?”

“I’m fine, Doctor,” you replied, wincing from a new headache.

Jack put his two-cents in. “Don’t worry, I’m just peachy. And you, Doctor?”

You could practically hear the Doctor’s eyes roll. “I’m alright. And sorry, but not having the ability to die causes you to fall down the priority list.”

“Boys, calm down,” you sighed. You were half annoyed, and half amused. “Jack, could you please tell us that ‘funny story’ of how you got here?”

After cracking his neck, the man with the American-sounding accent began, “Well, I was in open space, no other ship around mine for miles when I was suddenly transported to a much more crowded room. Apparently a queen, the queen of this planet, was looking for a mate. This species his the technology to view every face in the universe. She chose my lovely mug.

“Once I realized the royal family’s plan, I fought back. I would’ve been fine with a one-night stand, but this lady was looking to tie down this wandering soul.”

The Doctor laughed, “The first ‘soul’ to achieve that impossible feat will be a god in my eyes.”

“Come on, you two. Let’s see if we can get out of here.” You found your way to your feet and started feeling around the walls for a door knob, or a light switch, or anything. The sonic screwdriver’s light helped a lot in your search.

Within a few minutes, the three of you were able to find a door. Before you could get to it; however, it opened.

A batch of guards appeared. “You three. Come with us,” one of them ordered.

Seventeen minutes later, you, Jack, and the Doctor were facing a queen on her throne.

Of course, Jack wittily greeted, “Hello, sweetie. I wasn’t expecting to see you for a long time.”

“How dare you run from the crown of this...prospering planet,” the alien queen bellowed menacingly.

You rolled your eyes at the pause for dramatic effect and alliteration.

Jack clicked his tongue. “I’m not built to be a married man, your majesty.”

The queen replied, “That may be, but it does not mean I cannot force you to be my betrothed. Guards, seize them! Kill the other two, and prepare Sir Harkness for the wedding!”

Upon hearing that you were in danger, the Doctor sprung into action. His sonic caused an explosion that didn’t hurt anyone, but caused enough distraction and chaos for the three of you to get a head start. You all ran.

Once the three of you got far enough, the Doctor shouted, “How is it that you so frequently manage to get Y/n and myself into this much danger?”

Captain Jack bit back, “Oh, like you’re any safer for Y/n to hang around.”

“Girls, girls!” you cut in, “Stop fighting! You’re both pretty! Now can we focus on getting out of here, please?”

The Doctor sighed. “This way.” You and Jack followed him.

Four hallways later, the guards were gaining on the three of you. Soon enough, the were coming from the front and only about twenty yards behind you. The Doctor ushered you and Jack into a storage room with a luckily not wooden door. He sonicked it shut to slow the guards from getting to you, as well as to have a moment to think of a way to get out of there.

“What the hell, Doc? This is not the ideal time for one of my most common fantasies to come to life.” Jack quipped, but it was clear he was distressed.

Your companion wasn’t doing any better. “Jack, could you please keep your inappropriate remarks to yourself for once?”

From there, your two friends got into an argument. The bickering quickly got on your nerves.

“What is up with you two?” you exclaimed over the disagreement. “The whole time we’ve been together, I’ve barely managed to keep you from tearing out each other’s throats. Why is that?”

The Doctor was the first to speak up. “Y/n, I was less happy than I let on when you told me who you wanted to spend your New Year’s Eve with.”

You sighed, “Yes, that’s become more than obvious.” You dropped to sit on what you assumed was a box of some sort.

“Well...” The Doctor’s mouth opened and shut a few times. It seemed he was really struggling with what he was trying to say. Finally, the Doctor admitted, “It’s because I’m in love with you.”

Jack jumped in with his own hesitant confession. “And I’m in love with you, too. We don’t know what to do about it, Y/n.”

The Doctor continued, “Jack and I thought we could be around you for at least one night without either of us making it a competition. We wanted you to be happy, Y/n.”

Shaking his head and avoiding your eyes, Jack muttered, “Clearly, we didn’t do that since all the Doctor and I have been doing is fighting.”

“...Please, say something,” the Doctor nearly begged after a few moments of silence.

Ever since both of the men's’ admissions of love, you’d been processing. You would have never expected either men to fall in love with you, let alone both. It was a lot to take in. After nearly thirty seconds of nothing, you inquired, “Do you expect me to choose between the two of you now?”

“Neither of us would ever want to put you in that position,” the Doctor pointed out.

At the same time, Jack finalized, “Never in a million years.”

Biting your lip, you decided to go out on a limb. “So, it’s okay that I don’t choose?...I could have both of you?”

Jack was as surprised as the Doctor was. “You would want both of us?”

“I...yes. If that’s okay with the both of you.” You glanced between the two men. Part of you couldn’t believe you were having this conversation.

The Doctor blinked. “I mean, it would eliminate this rivalry between us if we knew we both won.”

Of course, Jack was completely fine with it.

“So...it’s settled,” the Doctor bewilderedly stated.

You laughed, “I guess it is. Now, we still have the pickle of the three of us stuck in here.”

The Doctor reset into his problem solving mode and started searching for a way out of the locked room. “Now, just let me think for a moment...” he pondered out loud as the guards’ banging on the door grew louder. The Doctor interrupted himself, “Wait. Y/n, what are you sitting on?”

“I don’t know--” You were barely able to stand up and get the words out before the Doctor rushed over to examine it with his sonic screwdriver. “What are the chances?!” He suddenly exclaimed, then came back to you to kiss you on the forehead. “Thank you, Y/n. You are brilliant.”

While the Doctor fiddled with some sort of keypad that was out of your view before, Jack, seemingly trying to keep things even, kissed you on the forehead as well.

The Doctor informed, “This is a very special briefcase, you two. It can take us right back to the TARDIS.”

“Really?” you gasped.

Jack barked out a laugh, “No way!”

Grinning just as wide as you and Jack, the Doctor explained, “All I have to do is enter in the right code for the TARDIS...both of you put your hand on one of my shoulders...and allonsy!” A circular blue light came out of the briefcase and whined until it surrounded the three of you. You blinked, and the TARDIS was in front of you.

“Please.” The Doctor was still giddy as he moved ahead and opened the TARDIS door. “After you,” he offered you.

You looked back to Jack, whose smile was as wide as yours. You entered the TARDIS with the Doctor and Jack behind you. It felt good to be home.

Everybody fell to their back as the TARDIS launched.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! If you would like to read more, I have more fics on Doctor Who over on my page. You should go check it out. Also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I take requests for one-shots, multi-chapters, headcannons, and preferences. No smut, please. I write for a variety of fandoms. If you’re wondering if I write for a specific fandom, please ask me. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you.<3

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txladyj-blog · 5 years ago

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Chapter 7 - This Time Around

a Daryl Dixon x OFC collaboration written by @xmistressmistrustx

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character

Tags: Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Crush, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Mild Smut, Strong Language, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Some Canon Scenes and Dialogue

Chapters 15/?

Lucky wasn’t something that Jess considered herself to be. Her life hadn’t been unlucky per se, but if it wasn’t for her determined approach to life, strokes of bad luck would have dragged her down altogether. It had taken the end of the world before it dawned on her that maybe it wasn’t responsible for things that went wrong, it was merely that she’d been unable to see life’s small wins, the glimmers of goodness and positivity that shone through when she was too busy occupying herself with the darkness.

She didn’t know if it was luck that had led her to where she was in the city or if it was down to her own methodical and logical approach of planning and protecting herself. She had managed to part drag, part walk Merle back to her apartment, administer enough painkillers to knock out an Ox and forage for enough food to keep them both going for a comfortable number of weeks. Merle did nothing but sleep for the first four days after Jess had painstakingly sewn his stump up and she was glad for it. She needed the peace after fretting he would die on her in the night and feast on the plump flesh of her legs, turning her into one of the mindless monsters that now roamed the streets. She checked on him religiously and returned from every supply run with caution, her knife drawn and a loud knock at the door before she committed to entering.

Jess was smart, it was no small feat to gather medical supplies and weapons along with setting up for a life of self-sustainability and loneliness, but armed with enough self-belief and her weapons from the Faire, she worked her way around the buildings, using the rooftops as her pathways and dead soldiers and police officers as sources of body armor. She gathered herb cuttings from the balconies of other apartments, seeds for vegetables from a gardening store, buckets, tarp and plastic containers to collect water from precipitation and enough wood to carve arrows for her bow. She spent a large portion of her time in her new living space reading books from the library and trying to retain as much information about survival, self-defense, weapons, basic DIY and tools and hacks from books on doomsday prepping as possible. For Jess, knowledge was most definitely power after being thrust into the apocalypse with next to no useful skills.

After 8 days, her unexpected lodger finally woke from his blurred, meds induced slumber and tried to move around the room. Jess jumped to his aid but he quickly waved her off, the two of them having never spoke more than a few words to one another unless they had no other option. Despite their lack of communication, Jess was sure there was a kind of mutual respect forming between them. Merle had protested very little at everything she’d done for him, accepted her help, her food, her desire to keep him in one place until he recovered enough and he tried to explain as much as he could about how he'd ended up sawing off his own hand. He also never made it a secret that as soon as he was well enough, he would be out of her hair and heading back to the camp to find Daryl. Upon finishing up the stitches on his arm, he had thanked her sincerely and told her she had balls for a little, fat kid. She’d accepted the backhanded compliment with a surprising ease and had to admit that she was impressed by his resilience.

“Gotta stretch my damn legs.” He grumbled as he wandered aimlessly around the room, picking up books and throwing them down again with his one remaining hand. He studied her weapons, neatly hung on hooks on the wall, her body armor and boots on a coat stand near the door and squinted at the planters that filled the balcony outside. She had left the door open, needing to air the room out and spare herself the agony of breathing in Merle’s thunderous flatulence while he slept. Another one of his redeeming features, she figured. She watched as he swiped up his leather vest and struggled to slip it on over his shoulders without bumping his stump. Jess stood up from her spot on the sofa surrounded by books and took hold of the back of his vest, holding it out so he was able to thread his arm through with ease. He shot her an irritated look but she decided not to react, knowing that accepting help was probably not something he was used to.

When he sat back down on the opposite couch, she grabbed two tumblers and poured him a whiskey before filling her own glass. His eyes widened when he noted the bottle. A Nice, expensive whiskey. The likes that he would have stolen rather than bought from a store back in the day.

“It’s what you came to the city for, right? Booze?” She queried as she passed him the drink.

He accepted gratefully and held the glass up, taking in the deep color of the liquid and the long-missed smell.

“That’s right.” He grinned before knocking the drink back in one go. “Best painkiller out there.”

Jess scoffed and sipped her own drink. She’d never been much of a drinker, especially not hard liquor, but since she’d been in the city, she found herself able to understand a little more of why Merle sought out something mind altering. It was an escape, one in which she needed sometimes, just maybe not as often as someone like Merle Dixon. She lifted a leg and shoved the bottle across the table towards him with her sock-covered toes, signaling for him to have as much as he wanted.

“Get trashed if you want, better you do it here than out there.” She shrugged.

Not about to argue, he quickly poured himself another helping and this time, took his time working though it. Jess could feel his eyes baring into her soul as she skimmed the words on a page of a book she’d opened in her lap. She glanced up and stared right back at him, no longer afraid or intimidated by the old redneck with the cuss-laden vocabulary. If she could haul herself through the woods and get herself into a safe and seemingly maintainable situation in the middle of a walker ridden city, she could deal with Merle.

“That shit about my brother that barbie doll read from ya little diary that day…” He mentioned.

Here we go. She thought.

“…It true?”

Jess slapped the book shut and threw it onto the couch next to her as she lay back and huffed, sending strands of her dark hair billowing into the air above her.

“Been dying to ask me about that, haven’t you?” She sighed.

“Was on the top of my list of priorities, after not dyin’, of course.” He grinned, swirling his drink around in the glass in front of him.

She was never a liar. Lies always spiraled into something complicated and regretful. Lies were responsible for many failed friendships and she concluded that even now, at the end of days, lies were still as poisonous as ever. But she also wasn’t about to tell Merle the complete truth about her true feelings for Daryl.

“I like him. But I think I was confusing a connection as friends with something more. I was wrong.”

A throaty chuckle emerged from his throat and for a moment, he winced in pain as if the juddering movement of his body had aggravated the life-changing wound on his arm.

“Shame. Kid could use some action. He’s wound tighter than a monkey’s nut.” He quipped. “Can’t recall the last time he got laid. Not that he’d tell me. Always was quieter than a damn mouse about shit.”

Not feeling the need to join him in the direction he wanted to steer the conversation, she just shook her head and smiled at him.

“Barbie, she uh-she tried it with him first, y’know. He turned her down. I was second fiddle but that’s alright with me. Pussy presents itself on a plate n’ who am I to say no?” He said, levelling his gaze at her and carefully observing her reaction. Giving nothing away, she kept her face as nonchalant as possible while her insides churned at the thought of Sarah trying something with Daryl.

“She hit on Daryl, huh?” She asked casually.

“True as i'm sittin' here now. He said no. Might be ‘cause he aint got a scooby what the hell he’s doin’ with the females. Or maybe he was holdin’ out for ya.”

The thought alone made Jess laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. It was outrageous to even consider it now she knew what she knew. Now she’d heard how he really felt.

“Pretty sure he never saw me like that. He made it clear he didn’t give a shit about me” She expressed, finishing her whiskey and contemplating another when Merle snatched the bottle from the table and re-filled his glass. At the rate he was drinking, he’d have the whole bottle down in an hour. Nevertheless, she held out her glass and nodded to it. He dutifully re-filled it and she sat back again.

“One thing I know about my baby brother? He’s always been real off with folks. Don’t trust nobody. No friends, no nothin. But he spent all the hours god gave him with you at that camp. When he found out you’d skedaddled in the small hours, he lost his shit.” He explained with a knowing look on his face which Jess tried to ignore.

“He did, huh?” She mumbled

“Almost shot blondie in the face with a bolt. Got up on his soap box n’ told the whole group what she’s been getting’ up to. Damn good job I don’t blush easy.” He smirked. “He’s lookin’ for ya.”

Jess shook her head again and reached into her pocket, retrieving a packet of cigarettes and throwing them into his lap across the coffee table that divided them. Merle looked down at them in disbelief.

“Don’t look so shocked. I’m a good host.” She quipped.

She’d picked up cigarettes and whiskey for him while sweeping a store for food. She had everything she wanted and needed so far save for a few comforts like ice cream and electricity. So, she figured giving Merle something he would be thankful to have once he woke up was only fair.

“He just feels guilty.” She muttered, dismissing his observation of his younger brother.

“Maybe.” He shrugged as he ripped the pack open, propped a smoke between his lips and rummaged in his jeans for his lighter. He paused before he lit the end, peering at her over the cigarette. She offered him a small nod and picked up a heavy glass ashtray from the floor and positioned it in the center of the table, gestures that told him she was fine with him smoking in her apartment and were met with an even more surprised expression. He sparked up, sat back and waved the small, white stick around as he spoke.

“Ahh I don’t wanna talk about no sentimental stuff, but the kid liked ya.”

“No, he didn’t.” Jess retorted straight away.

A flash of exasperation flickered across his face and he raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Argue all ya want. I practically raised that boy. He’s a little odd but I ain’t never seen him flip his lid like that about some skirt. Should go back n’ find him. Or, let him find you. ‘Cause he will. Could find a flea in a hay bale, my brother.”

It was non-negotiable to her. Daryl had made it clear how he felt and she wasn’t about to go back to a place where she was constantly ridiculed and humiliated with no one to step in and defend her. Jess took a gulp of the liquor and winced at the warmth that radiated from her stomach. Whiskey really wouldn’t have been her drink of choice. She wished she’d picked up some rum, or spent the time bothering to find some Sam Adams.

“I’m not going back there. I know you’ll go and find him and you owe me no loyalty, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him where I am” She requested.

Merle’s eyes dropped to his glass and then back up to Jess’s waiting face, over and over as he thought over the prospect of withholding important information that Daryl would want to know. Jess knew she was asking a lot of him, but the thought of being found and forced to face what had happened before she’d left, along with the heartbreaking confession from Daryl to Merle about her meaning nothing to him was too much for her to handle. She wanted a new start, alone, with no reliance or ties to anyone. Merle was still glaring at her intermittently but she paid it no mind, figuring she would get her answer soon enough and if she didn’t like it, she would be forced to move on and find somewhere else to live.

“Saved my life.” He mentioned. “Got me booze and smokes. Sewed up my arm. Hell, I’m pretty sure ya had me doped up on some pretty shit hot pain meds these last few days too. I may be from the wrong side of the tracks but I ain't no dumbass, sweet cheeks. know when I owe somebody.”

It had never even crossed her mind when she stood in the dark store, gawping down at a bloodied, mutilated and half-dead Merle, that she should just walk away and let him die or kill him herself. Instinct kicked in and she reacted in a calmer, more together way than she had ever done previously, knowing that she had to get him out of there and away from any danger. There was simply no other option. It occurred to her as she was sitting there opposite him that she had already come a long way, she was no longer as scared. She was more accepting of her situation, more tactical and shrewder. Now, more able to survive alone than ever before, simply because she had given herself no other choice. She stifled a small smile when she studied him, looking over his heavily bandaged arm and his bloodstained shirt. She made a mental note to make sure he did some physical therapy and got a new shirt before she let him go anywhere.

“I can’t believe you cut off your hand, you fucking psycho.” She said.

“It was that or be Walker jerky.” He replied.

The two of them giggled and Merle finished his smoke and glass of alcohol while Jess got up and started to prepare him something to eat from the piles of tinned food she’d hoarded. Now, she was providing for two of them for the time being and she’d felt it necessary to stock up. She’d hauled him out from near death, so she wasn’t about to starve the man that had been surprisingly pleasant to her, going against everything she’d expected of him. Maybe, just maybe, there was the same element in Daryl after all. But that no longer mattered to her.

That night, while her houseguest snored noisily on the couch in an alcohol induced coma, Jess settled on her bed and opened her journal.

Merle has turned out to be much more personable than I ever imagined. Maybe that’s because I saved his ass. Or, maybe it’s because underneath it all, he’s actually OK as long as you know how to deal with him. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I trust him. But right now, I have the upper hand and he is relying on me to get him well enough to leave and go and find Daryl.

Daryl. It’s not like I don’t think about him. I do. I do miss him. Or, rather, I miss the person I thought he was and I remind myself of what I heard that night. I should have known better, it’s not the first time I developed a crush on somebody that was way out of my league. It’s my frequent reminder not to get attached to anyone, not to feel anything for other people or it will be me that suffers. There are only a few survivors left and I have to look out for myself. It’s been five weeks and I’ve not seen another living soul apart from the alcoholic redneck that sleeps on my couch and stinks to high heaven.

Besides this, I have set up quite the fortress here, I think I could live here for a long time. That’s if Merle doesn’t tell Daryl where I am. I’ll be forced to move if he does. I don’t want to be found. Just leave me be. This way, I may get physically hurt but I can deal with that, I’m studying books to deal with every possible outcome. But I just can’t handle more emotional turmoil. As much as I miss him.

I managed to get a punchbag from one of the other apartments in the building along with some weights. I intend to train and improve my stamina, heaven knows when I’m going to have to run and keep running, so I intend to be ready for anything. The herbs are taking and the bell peppers I planted on the roof are well on their way. So far, I’m doing well. I just can’t figure out how to get rid of the Walker behind the grate in the elevator shaft on the first floor. But he’s not a problem right now. His cage keeps him contained and some days I even wonder if he can hear me when I sit on the steps and tell him about my day.

Maybe I am going crazy.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Daryl had been looking for Sophia for hours. Days actually, but on this one particular occasion, in the blistering sun atop of a nervous horse that had bolted at the sound of a Walker and sent him tumbling down a hill into a watery area below, he was sure he’d had better days and was seriously rethinking his belief in Sophia still being alive. But still he pressed on, even injured at the bottom of a ravine, his eyes fluttered open in the stark light of the sun and his body thrummed with pain, but he managed to get up, treat his wounds and carry on.

God damn horse.

Where he got his strength and determination, he wasn’t sure but he could only really credit his terrible home life and childhood for instilling a kind of armor around him. A protective wall that he never let anyone pass. Surviving was second nature to him; he simply didn’t know any other way to be. Sophia was a child, alone in the walker-filled woods and Daryl couldn’t help but think of the time when he had found himself lost, back in the days when Walkers were something one only saw in a horror movie. He was merely a child and was missing for eleven days. Little did his father know, Daryl eventually found his own way home, wandered into the kitchen and fixed himself a sandwich like nothing had happened. It was Daryl’s way, even back then, he relied on no one by himself and as the years passed, he still lived by the same rule; just get on with it.

Of course, nothing was ever easy anymore and his departure from the ravine was trickier than he’d planned. Reaching the top by literally dragging his bleeding body through the mud and shoving away hallucinations of his brother, ridiculing him for not making any effort to find him. He had to keep telling himself it was down to him hitting his head and not insanity creeping in. Slumped onto the flat woodland ground, he was never more grateful to see even terrain before. He glanced down at the state of his body, a broken bolt in his side from the fall sent spikes of pain through his veins that turned his stomach and blurred his vision. His head thudded back onto the mud as he took a minute to compose himself and figure out how he was going to get to his feet with his side impaled by a piece of wood.

“So, you can teach me not to die but you can’t quite manage it yourself, huh?”

Jess’s voice made his eyes snap open and he frantically scanned the area around him, seeing nothing but trees until she stepped out from behind a tree, her pretty smile broad and her clothes clean.

“Jess?” He croaked.

“Time to get up, sleepy head.” She instructed, crossing her arms. Daryl noticed her woolen sweater looked brand new, her hair was shiny and well-conditioned, her skin was clean.

“I-I tried to find you.” He rasped, sitting up and sucking a sharp breath in through his teeth when the pain rampaged through his nerves.

“Took a bolt to the side for the girl, but you just gave up on me.” She pointed out.

Daryl’s sweaty brow furrowed when he peered up at her as the sun shot out from behind her, silhouetting her in the light until she was gone. He quickly checked over his shoulders and rubbed at his face.

“Jess?”

Nothing. She wasn’t really there. Nothing more than a mirage, a figment of his imagination and most likely a result of a hard knock to the head. Seeing her again made his heart hurt regardless of if she was real or not. He missed her and the burden of ceasing to look for her after finding her note was now weighing even heavier on his shoulders. His hands fell to his sides, clawing up clumps of dirt as he drew in a deep breath and pushed through the pain of getting to his feet.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Carol rapped softly on the door before turning the handle and quietly gliding inside. The tray in her hand contained soup and water that she’d prepared after hearing that Daryl was refusing food and just wanted to get patched up and back out into the woods. Carol hadn’t ever felt gratitude like it, nor had she ever been so surprised at one person’s sheer selflessness. Her child had been missing for days and Daryl had worked tirelessly, relentlessly and without any decent rest in order to find her. She didn’t know if he was harboring some kind of guilt over Jess and his brother, but as long as he was using it to find her little girl, she couldn’t complain. That was until now, until he’d almost died in the process.

The room was dim, the drapes drawn and the surfaces dusty from neglect. Daryl lay facing away from her, his side sporting a large square of gauze and bandages. Every part of his exposed skin was covered in scars, Carol could see that some of them were new, from the past day. But some, the largest ones were at least a decade old and her chest constricted with thoughts of the violence that she had known and how it could cause such trophies of trauma upon a person’s skin.

Placing the tray on the nightstand, she leaned over him and tenderly kissed the side of his head. Initially, he recoiled but she knew why and waited until he relaxed and let her offer her small token of appreciation and affection. He rolled over slightly, able to catch her eye for a moment and seeing them filled with worry. She sat on the edge of the bed.

“I couldn’t go look for Merle.” He whispered. “Gave up on Jess. Can’t find Sophia neither. Fuckin’ useless.”

Having known him only a few months, it was enough for her to come to the conclusion that Daryl was not like other people. On the outside, he was hostile but inside, he was sensitive, shouldering blame for deaths and caring so deeply about others that it ate away at him when they lost someone. But Daryl never spoke about it, preferring instead to internalize it all and simmer away, alone at the edge of the camp while glaring at the others and trying to understand how they could be so open and free with their emotions. Daryl never uttered a word about his feelings. That was, unless it was to Carol.

He couldn’t figure out exactly when it was that they’d become close but he suspected that his loss of Jess and Merle and Carol’s husband being turned by Walkers had somehow brought them together. He knew she was a broken soul, just as he was but neither of them needed to discuss it. Out of everyone, Carol was the one that seemed to understand him the most without even trying.

“No, Daryl. You did more for my little girl today than her daddy did in her entire life.” She promised.

He continued to look at her, saying nothing but speaking volumes with his expression. He was tired, almost defeated and knew that she would manage to say something to quell the exhausting guilt in his heart.

“And Jess… she didn’t want to be found.” She added.

Daryl resumed his previous position, fluffing up the pillows under his head and settling down.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

“Like Andrea shot me.” He grunted.

An unfortunate accident it may have been, but Andrea’s trigger-happy attitude from the RV that evening had left Daryl in the dirt with a bullet graze to his temple and in his delirious state, he was unable to fathom exactly what had happened. Carol thought it was no wonder Andrea had mistaken him for a Walker after he’d staggered from the trees, covered in dirt and mud, snarling at everyone with a crazed look in his eye. A split-second decision was all it took and as luck had it, Andrea was still a bad shot with a rifle.

“You need to recover before you go back out there. I know you; you’ll want to push it. You almost got yourself killed. Took a bolt and a bullet today, all for Sophia. I can’t even begin to thank you.” She confessed.

“Don’t want no thanks.” He dismissed “I didn’t do nothin’ that Rick or Shane wouldn’t have done.”

Carol scoffed from behind him, rendering his last sentence as complete rubbish.

“I don’t see them lying in a bed with a hole in their sides. You’re every bit as good as them. Every bit.” She affirmed.

A silence from him told her it was her time to depart, pushing Daryl too much was likely to result in him lashing out, especially when she considered his current state of mind along with the fact that he was physically exhausted. She got to her feet and tapped the glass on the tray, the ringing of her nails on the glass reminding him that she wanted him to eat and drink something. In the doorway, she paused when she heard him speak again.

“Sophia, she's out there, I know it. I found her doll” He murmured.

“Maybe. Maybe Jess is too.” She suggested. “You can admit it, y’know”

He rolled onto his back, craning his neck to see her stood half in, half out of the room with her arms wrapped around herself.

“Admit what?”

“That you miss her. I know you two were good friends.” It was a hazardous approach for Carol to take due to her knowledge of his reluctance to talk about Jess. Every time someone mentioned her name his temper flared and he wasted no time in reminding everyone that she was probably dead and that they shouldn’t bother talking about her anymore. Carol knew it was a defense mechanism and in true Daryl form, his rage expelled itself in a series of abusive and offensive remarks.

“Ain’t gotta admit shit. Leave me alone.” He grunted.

“OK, but just eat something. Please. Or you won’t have the strength to get out of bed, let alone pick up that crossbow.”

With that, she left the room and closed the door behind her. A few hours sleep and some kind of sustenance would undoubtedly help his mood a little, but she wasn’t betting on him becoming a ray of sunshine anytime soon. She knew he had a better version of himself inside, but the loss of his friend and brother had began to chip away at it, eroding it day by day and she worried that eventually, there would be nothing left.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

A month had passed and Jess was sitting on the steps of the stairwell in her apartment block. She now had free reign of the entire building, every dwelling now empty and safe thanks to her tireless efforts to secure the building and ensure she had enough space to keep any supplies she might need. Her days had become routine, but she liked it that way. The mornings consisted of rising from her bed at sunrise and heading up to the next floor, where she had turned an elderly couples’ home into a gym. An hour’s rigorous exercise a day and a limited diet had seen her weight drop drastically over the four weeks she had been in residence and she was now confident she could run a life-saving distance without stopping at least. Late mornings were spent tending to the growing vegetables and herbs and checking the main street below for any swellings in the number of Walkers. If there was, she would make her way across the rooftops to the other side of town, where she would set off firecrackers or make enough noise to wake the dead all over again in order to draw them away and set them on a different path that didn’t include gathering outside her new home. In the afternoons, she scavenged and spent some time carving arrows on the steps with Ben- The Walker trapped in the elevator shaft. He wore a janitor’s uniform with his name embroidered on one side. She waffled on as if they were two best friends in a bar, telling him about her day and even regaling him with tales from comic cons and her opinions on the best beers in Texas. The evenings consisted of rooftop target practice and tedious conversations with Merle while she aided him with his physical therapy. He complained non-stop, telling her that he didn’t believe in all her ‘therapy shit’ and that he would be just fine without it. Eventually, he yielded and allowed her to help him with the advice of yet more books from the library.

Ben swayed back and forth as she held up an arrow for him to see, although she wasn’t quite sure if he could really see anything. More that he just seemed to know she was there with whatever part of his brain was still active enough to make him walk and want to eat people.

“I’m getting pretty good at this.” She mused with a smile. Ben reached through the elevator grate, his purple fingers with snapped nails grasping at her hand holding the arrow. She quickly snatched it away and slid the arrow into her quiver before standing up and throwing it over one shoulder. Her daily supply run had taken longer than usual after she ran into some unsavory undead in a camping store while trying to bring back more gas canisters. She had returned with her prize but decided to take some time to herself to carve some arrows before she had to endure Merle’s uncomfortable stare and chain smoking.

“Later, dude.” She said to Ben over her shoulder as she stomped up the steps to her front door. She stopped when she noticed the note pinned to the wood.

‘Gone to find my brother. Took some food and meds. Thanks, Sugar tits. M.’

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