#Two point hospital steam key

[kinguincdkeys]

Free Two Point Hospital Steam Key (PC) Complete a free survey and grab Two Point Hospital steam key for free. Download Two Point Hospital CD key. License key are sent automatically!

[anjelicawrites]

Paring: modern!Aegon II Targaryen x reader

Synopsis: AU based on the movie Happy Death Day. King of fratboys Aegon II Targaryen is struck in a timeloop caused by his violent death. Every day he wakes up in your bed, knowing there’s a masked killer on the loose. Plagued by his own misdemeanors and insecurities, he has to navigate his own budding feelings for you, and solve his own murder. Will he succeed, or will he die again?

Warnings: non graphic description of murder, botchy physics, anxiety, self loathing, alcohol consumption, hangover, crying, Aegon tries to kiss reader when they say they don’t want to be kissed, injuries, hugging, kissing, p in v sex, begging0.

A/N: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed, they/them pronouns used.

You finish cutting the tomatoes and place them in your bowl, carefully. You know you’re biding your time and pondering all the information Aegon has just unloaded upon you; you can feel his restless energy filling the kitchen even though he’s standing by the sink, big purple eyes fixated upon you. You wish he was moving and not simply wringing his hand,   unloading all of that turmoil in some way, any way; the fact that he’s simply staring at you unnerves you, after his confession. The non physicist side of your brain is wondering if you need to call the hospital, the physicist in you knows that what he’s saying has been theorized yet never proven, it should be impossible to happen in real life, shouldn’t it?

The jingle of your roommate’s keys snaps you out of your thoughts; as much as you love her, you don’t have the mental capacity to deal with her right now.

“Will you take the mugs, please? My room is better for talking.” You tell Aegon.

“Green tea? Really?”

He has the audacity to stare at you while holding the two steaming mugs as if they personally offended him.

“Just take the God damned things!”

Behind him, your roommate is giving you thumbs ups with a smile on her face, you groan inwardly, she has no idea what’s going on.

You’re not in a chatty mood, not after last night when, a bit too tipsy for your tastes, you have picked up Aegon, king of frat boys Aegon, who has awoken in your bed, stared at you with desperation in his eyes and flopped back with a defeated ‘not again’.

Just because of that you should have kicked out of your apartment, the fact that he told you, as serious as a heart attack, that he has re lived this day repeatedly, to the point that he has lost count of the times he has woken up in your bed, tried to stop the loop, only to finish his day butchered by a masked killer, all of this should have warranted a call to the mental health office of King’s Landing University, yet you didn’t. It wasn’t because you expected him to tell you it was all a prank, or the fact that quantum physics explores the idea of time loops, it was how defeated he looked, alone against an evil he couldn’t fight.

According to him, he has woken up in your cramped room thousands of times, this doesn’t stop him from looking around, taking in all the posters you have hung over the bed and the overflowing bookshelves against each and every free wall. He’s not judging what he sees, he appears to be sincerely curious of the tomes you have to study for you classes. Not that he has the ability to understand an ounce of the syllabus, he barely follows what he is supposed to study, but his family has funneled too much money to the University, for him to fail.

“We can sit on the bed. My desk is too small.” You say, awkwardly.

“Bed, yeah.”

The first time he awoke there, he was torn between the hangover crushing his brain, and being horrified to have hooked up with you: you are so out of his fucking league he couldn’t fathom you even wanting to bed him! After the first ten times he has opened his eyes here, to relive his last day on Earth, he has learned to like the smell of your bed sheets, a mix of detergent and your own smell: probably the only good thing happening to him during this hellish experience.

He’s crushed that you have changed your bedding while he was in the bathroom. If he were to smell the pillows now, he wouldn’t be able to pick up your scent.

“Are you sure you don’t want more salt?”

“No, no, this is fine.”

There’s a lull in the conversation where he picks at his food, ignoring the elephant in the room and the ticking of time that means he’s going to die soon.

“I know how it sounds.”

You lift your eyes from your own food to stare at him. Apart from the hangover he must still be nursing, he looks like he’s aged ten years, his voice sounds hollow, devoid of any human emotion; whether or not he’s bullshitting you, there is something eating at him. 

You can’t say you know him on a personal level to judge his reactions, you’ve only seen him around with his frat boys friends and he’s always given you the vibes of someone trying to show the world he doesn’t have a single problem in his life, and lacks the mental capacity to even care for anything, it’s unsettling to see him like this, fidgety and haunted.

“It’s no stranger than any of my quantum physics classes. Look, I’m not going to bother you with the specifics, but some have theorized that time loops might be possible.”

The fork falls from his hand, it’s a miracle that his food doesn’t follow all over the bed when he sets his plate aside to grab your hand in a tight vise.

“How do I make it stop?”

His eyes have a desperate glint, the sides of his mouth are set downward, negating any hope his words might carry. You try to get your hand loose but he doesn’t let you, his grip increased until you decided to stop trying to get away from him.

“I don’t know.”

The way his shoulders drop breaks your heart. Lie or not, he is in shambles.

“I told you, some physicists talk about time loops in theory. The community can’t even decide on a possible cause, let alone how to break free from one. They are just ideas, working theories we use. As scientists we can’t even decide if time is a social construct or not!”

He hides his face in his hands, you can’t make out what he’s saying, only that his words are becoming sobs and he’s rocking on the bed, desperate.

“Look! Look!” You grab his shoulders and shake him until he stares at you, his eyes red. “The fact that I can’t give you an answer, doesn’t mean there isn’t one. Let’s walk through this together once again.”

“I already did.”

His voice sounds so small you just want to give him a hug.

“Do you really think that the big guns didn’t discuss their ideas again and again? Until they were done with the sound of their own voices? Tell me everything again, Aegon.”

“I re lived this day so many times and I still couldn’t find a solution. What makes you think that you can?”

“Because I am smarter than most and I am not personally involved. I can bring a fresh pair of eyes.”

“You would love my little brother Aemond. He thinks he’s better than anyone.”

“I highly doubt that. Stop stalling!”

You watch Aegon take a sip from his mug and set it on the floor; awkwardly he sits with his back to the headboard, facing you.

Having to spell it out all over again makes Aegon feel even worse, as if he is in the clutch of a nightmare he can’t escape and, on some levels, he is.

Come to think of it, the first time he had awoken, his bigger issue was the hangover, the blood pulsating in his head like a drummer from hell. Now he knows that you biding him good morning and asking how he was feeling, was you being a nice person, at that precise moment? He only wanted you to shut your trap and give him all the Tylenol his body could manage to absorb.

The second time? It was probably the worst, because he could feel that something was amiss, but couldn’t put his finger on it. He didn’t know you personally, then why did he feel like he’s already woken up to your smile? The walk of shame to his Frat House had been the worse part, not because he felt judged by his peers, but because his brain couldn’t put together the fact that he, somehow, knew what was going to happen: the two girls staring at him like they wanted to eat him up, the alarm of a random van blaring in the distance, the group of students falling prey to the automatic sprinkler or the guy falling all over his face, why did he feel like he has already seen all of this? It wasn’t possible.

In retrospect he knows when the two twin days diverge: at the end. The second day, as awkward as it felt, went on like the other: as soon as he was in his room, one of his friends had given him a cupcake, chocolate and peanut butter, his favorite, for his nameday, but he was too nauseous to eat it. He then went out on a walk with Sunfyre and saw the elderly lady having an issue crossing the road and he ignored her. With shame, now he recollects how badly he treated you when you came to the Frat House to give him back his signet ring, how he had told his friends that he ���Didn’t know what this bitch is talking about” and took the ring from your hand.

He had gone on with this day that, suspiciously it felt like the one he had just lived, down to one of his friends popping by his room to ask him if he was coming to the party at one of the sorority houses on campus (at the time Aegon didn’t know it was a surprise birthday party for him), him ignoring his mom's phone calls for the whole day and the sudden blackout that had plunged his room into darkness.

The split happened at the underpass that connects the old Campus to the new.

The first day, he was butchered there. He had walked through a group of rugby fans wearing the University's mascot mask, Balerion, until he had reached the creepy underpass, made even more disturbing by the dead lamp posts, and the carillon left in the middle of it.

He wasn’t scared, he had thought it must have been a stupid prank from his friends, he had even joked with the person who had appeared behind him, clad in a black coverall, wearing Balerion’s mask, until the person, whomever they were, had stabbed him through the eye.

The second day he had stubbornly gone through the motions, choking on the déjà-vu feeling, until he had gotten to the underpass and noped out of there, opting to use the longer way to go to the new Campus. It still felt like trudging through a bad dream: why did he know what would happen? Was it a case of Dragon Dreaming? Perhaps all the drugs he had taken during his life had finally taken a toll on him? 

As he died, stabbed with a broken piece of dope pipe, he had thought that this wasn’t a case of Dragon Dreaming.

He tells you of all the ways he’s tried to outsmart his killer: lock himself in his room, leave campus, get arrested, nothing had worked, he would die, stabbed, shot or set afire, and would wake up to your smile and a terrible hangover.

By the time he’s finished, you have set your plate aside and reached for the windowsill, where your pack of smokes lie.

“This is all I have.” He tells you, defeated, his head hunched between his shoulders. “It’s not much.”

“It’s a lot, actually.” You answer. “Do you mind?”

His purple eyes focus on the cigarette in your hand and he shakes his head.

“I might have one myself.” He adds, fishing for his vape.

“Of course you vape.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

The genuine curiosity in his tone makes you crack a smile. You don’t answer, though, your theories about fuckboys and vaping are for another day.

Calmly you light your cigarette and take a long drag, staring at the Schrodinger’s Cat poster over your bed.

“One thing we know is that your death, albeit the circumstances, re sets the clock to this morning. Now, there are some questions we need to ask ourselves: were you supposed to die altogether? If not, why is the universe forcing you to go through that again and again?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Me neither, which brings me to the second question: why don’t you stay dead?”

You see him turn an alarming shade of gray. Perhaps you should have worded that phrase more carefully, but you’ve already made the mess, might as well turn his focus on something else.

“Let’s see it this way. Why does the universe want to undo what’s happening to you? Why would time bend and shape itself in this way for you?”

He looks lost and so are you. Why would the fabric of the universe itself modify and go against all the laws known to mankind, for frat boy Aegon II Targaryen? Why him and not someone else?

“If I had to go by vibes alone, it feels like the universe is trying to give you a chance. Perhaps you weren’t supposed to die, your passing is like an annoying wrinkle that doesn’t want to be smothered.”

“I have been called many things, ‘annoying wrinkle’ is new.”

You see the start of a genuine smile on his face.

“Let’s say that your survival is a fixed point in time, like in Doctor Who.”

“Doctor Whom?”

“You’ve never watched Doctor Who in your entire life?”

“Should I have?”

You feel your brain wanting to go on a tirade about his abhorrent pop culture education, but you don’t have time for that, perhaps tomorrow (if such a thing exists).

“Scratch that. A fixed point in time is when an event must come to pass, let’s say the destruction of Old Valyria. Trying to prevent that will cause a tear in space and time, Old Valyria must fall or a paradox would happen, altering the fabric of reality.”

You kill your smoke and start pacing.

“Your survival is a fixed point in time. The killer, by assaulting you, causes the time loop, because time stops moving the way it should. Are you following me?”

“I shouldn’t die, when I do, I fuck everything up. That’s my life in a nutshell, really.”

You elect to ignore the self deprecating tone, there isn’t time for that.

“Everyone forgets, but you. This means your killer forgets they’re in a time loop as well, and goes for you time and time again.”

“Yeah. But how do I stop them?” 

“Simple. You solve your own murder.”

Aegon stares at you as if you’ve grown another head.

“That’s your solution? Solve my own murder?”

“Do you have another option?”

Silence falls, broken by the muffled TV sounds coming from the apartments around yours. Aegon doesn’t speak, he looks even more defeated than before; he jumps out of his skin when his phone rings. You are startled as well, too lost in his sad puppy expression to remember that there’s a world outside of your cramped room.

Aegon looks at the caller ID and elects to throw the phone on your bed with a huff.

“You’re not answering your mom? I can go in the kitchen if you need a bit of privacy.”

“She’s calling me for my nameday. She’s going to bitch about the fact that I have missed the family lunch with her and my siblings.”

He still sounds sad, with an undercurrent of frustration you’re not sure you can pinpoint.

“It’s still your nameday! You should spend it with your family!”

“I can do without feeling like I am the family failure.” He takes a long drag from his vape and sets it on the windowsill, next to your cigarettes. “How do I solve my own murder?”

You feel that he doesn’t want to open that specific can of worms, besides, the poor guy has a lot already on his plate, if you want to believe his absurd story.

“I think the fact that today is your nameday holds a special meaning to either your killer or the universe. Let’s start from there: who knows about it, and who would want you dead?”

“I never share it but thanks to my brothers at the Fraternity, the whole campus. And I haven’t been exactly a saint.”

To write down a complete list of potential suspects would be a feat: he has fucked and abandoned half of the girls on campus, there’s a couple of nerds in his class who hate him, because he will pass his exams no matter what. And there’s Aemond. 

The two of them have always butted heads, his younger brother being all Aegon was supposed to grow into.

Aegon knows that Aemond feels like Aegon has what was supposed to be his. If he could, Aegon would swap lives with him, let him be the firstborn, the one the whole family expects everything from; Aemond wouldn’t crack under that type of pressure, he would make everyone happy and proud. But, would he be so resentful to try and kill him?

“You need to make a list, Aegon. You need to pin down the people who truly might have a bone to pick with you.”

“I don’t think I can. There’s too many.”

Unexpectedly he lets his head fall against your chest. He isn’t that much taller than you are, yet the contact makes you jump, so do his arms curling around your frame.

“Aegon? Aegon what are you doing?”

You feel his lips seeking yours and you turn your head, avoiding the contact by an inch.

“Aegon, stop!”

You try to free yourself from his hold and he simply doubles the strength he uses to keep your frame against his. Desperate you try to push with your hands against his chest, evading his seeking lips.

“Please.” He begs, pitiful and pathetic. “Please, I need it.”

“No Aegon! I told you to stop!”

The shrill scream seems to awaken him from his reverie. He doesn’t let you go, but he isn’t trying to kiss you anymore.

“I am not going to take advantage of you, Aegon. You’re not in the right state of mind! I didn’t do it yesterday when you were wasted, I am not going to do it now!”

“We didn’t…?”

“No, you big dummy!”

“I… I was naked! In your bed! I never pass up the chance to have sex!”

“I slept on the covers, you idiot! I brought you home because I was afraid you would choke on your own vomit and none of your friends seemed to care! You were hellbent on not laying down in your clothes and were asleep as soon as your head touched the pillow!”

He lets you go, almost pushing you away from his body. He’s wearing a haunted look that scares you, frantic he’s searching for his belongings to leave your room as if the Stranger himself was on his tracks.

“Aegon! Aegon! Calm down, please!” You grab his arm and force him to turn around and look at you. “What’s going on?”

He doesn’t respond, he falls on his knees, hugging your waist as he cries against your tummy. It’s an ugly cry, big, fat tears and desperate, howling sounds leaving his mouth; he is at the end of his tether, drowning without a help in sight.

It takes you long minutes to calm him down, until he lets you lay him on the bed, facing you; there’s still tears flowing from his eyes but his breathing seems to have gone back to normal.

“You shouldn’t have seen that.” He says with a broken voice.

“If it makes you feel better, I have seen nothing.”

Gently you caress his short hair, slow motions that aim at calming him even more.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s all forgiven. We all fuck up sometimes.”

He stares at you, surprised, as if no one has ever told him that.

“It will not happen again.”

“Trust me. Pull a stunt like that one more time? The masked killer will be the least of your problems!”

He smiles, pained and sad, like a tired clown. At least he’s breathing normally.

“I need to go. I have left Sunfyre alone for too long. And I have a list to write.”

“Are you sure you don’t want my help?”

He sits on the bed, scratching his head.

“It’s fine. You did more than anyone would do for a stranger.”

And I don’t want you hurt by the killer, he thinks.

“Look. I don’t know if you’ll be able to stop the loop and you will wake up to a new day. If you don’t, remember that I am here to help. Tell me this story again, I do not mind. No one should face death alone.”

Where do you come from? He thinks. Why are you being so nice?

He dies, time and time again. On his way to his apartment, hit by a car. 

When he checks on the handful of girls that were truly mad at him for having fucked them and then discarded them like used tissues, there’s something akin to happiness the moment he sees that they are moving on with their lives. Some are in love, others are receiving job offers, one has adopted a cat and her smile lights her room: all those girls who weren’t even a blip on his radar, have moved on, unscathed by his callousness (he dies, five times stabbed, one drowned and one bashed in the head with a baseball bat). Even the two nerds in one of his classes, who were so mad that he had passed it, just because his surname is on half of the buildings of the University, seem to have forgotten about him: they both have bright futures ahead of them (his killer is creative these two times, they electrocute him on one instance, the second they throw him in a woodcutter).

It’s Aemond that surprises him the most.

On purpose Aegon leaves checking on him for last. In between being massacred, he has had time to reflect upon his relationship with him: he has been a shit older brother, there’s no other way to describe himself. He had made fun of Aemond, pushed all his buttons because he could; he had left him alone when he had been attacked by all the cousins and nephews and was barely there when Aemond had to go through so many surgeries to save the left side of his face. Aegon had used him as a scapegoat for his insecurities and failures; if Aemond turned out to be the killer, Aegon would offer him the blade and tell him to go to town until he stayed dead.

Aegon’s hands shake as he makes his way up the fire escape ladders on the side of Aemond’s apartment building; he wishes for a beer, or ten, hates the clarity that the time loop has imposed on his brain. He had never thought he was such a piece of shit and a failure of a human being, whoever the killer was, they’re doing the right thing in getting rid of him, if only permanently! The world doesn’t need him, everything he touches turns into shit!

He stops and takes a huge breath to calm himself down: he needs to be extra quiet or Aemond’s dog, Vhagar, will hear him and alert her owner.

Slowly, careful of each and every step, Aegon reaches Aemond’s floor. Luck seems to be on his side since his brother’s curtains are open and he can peer inside.

The huge flat screen is turned on, bathing the darkened room in a blue hue. Surely he’s going to watch a movie, probably something pretentious, by an unknown director who died at the age of twenty: Aemond is the epitome of the indie fan. 

Imagine Aegon’s surprise when he sees the movie paused on the first scene of Evil Dead and when Aemond’s date opens their arms to welcome him on the couch! 

There had been talks on campus of Aemond secretly dating one of his professors, Alys Rivers. Aegon can’t believe it’s not her the person kissing Aemond until he smiles a real smile, one that shows his dimples! And he isn’t wearing his customary eyepatch!

If the killer hadn’t crashed into him from above, sending him spiraling down the side of the condo, Aegon would have died of surprise.

As he falls down, Aegon has only one thought: at least it’s not him.

He wakes up with a scream to the stupid ringtone of his phone. He can still feel the pain of smashing his body against the pavement ricocheting through his bones, his lungs exploding with the pressure inflicted upon them: for a second he can’t breathe. He flails on your bed, desperate to get to the window and simply breathe the fresh air. 

He stumbles on his feet, deaf to your words and opens the window with a desperate screech, only when the fresh air hits his still working lungs, he starts feeling his body relaxing.

In the distance he hears you calling his name, scared.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He pants, not feeling well at all.

His whole body trembles, he can feel his legs give out under his weight, his vision turning black as he falls in your arms. He doesn’t hear you screaming for help, for someone to call an ambulance, he is drowning in a peaceful black ocean, where nothing, not even him, exists.

He slowly comes back to himself, his muddled brain slowly realizing he’s not waking up to his own ringtone; for a blessed moment he dares hoping a new day has started for him, until the soft beeping of the monitor sitting next to the hospital bed throws him back into the throes of despair: the day hasn’t finished yet.

He opens his eyes slowly, the light spilling from the windows hurting his poor, overworked brain. What happened? The last thing he remembers is fainting, and not dying.

“Thank the Gods you’re awake!”

His poor eyes focus, with a terrible effort, on your features, now scrunched with worry: why are you by his side?

“You’re here.” He rasps, his voice scratchy and lower than his usual pitch.

“Of course I’m here!”

Again, for precious seconds, he thinks you’re in his hospital room because you remember the loop, and your idea of solving his own murder; his hopes are crushed when he realizes that it had happened some mornings ago, today he didn’t even have the chance to speak with you.

“Why?” He asks.

He doesn’t want to think about all that’s happened, he wants only to hear the melody of your voice.

“You passed out in my bedroom. Did you really expect me to ignore it? Are you feeling any better?”

Aegon tries to feel his body, sore and tired, but capable of breathing and not in the throes of panic.

“A little.”

“You shouldn’t be here. Visiting hours are finished for the morning.”

The two of you jump at the foreign voice of the doctor who, seemingly, appeared out of nowhere.

Aegon thinks he knows the guy, he’s probably met him during one of the charity parties he had to attend with his siblings. The doctor’s stern behavior seems to soften when he shakes Aegon’s hand and tells him his name is Dr. Orwyle.

“We haven’t finished checking on Mr. Targaryen.” He tells you, with a softer voice. “You can come later.”

The scared animal that lives in Aegon’s chest panics: he doesn’t want you gone, he doesn’t want to be alone in this foreign environment, but what he calls his ‘training’ kicks in. He’s Aegon II Targaryen, under no circumstances he is allowed to show anyone how he truly feels, his tears of some loops ago were a mistake he can’t afford to repeat now, away from the sanctuary of your bedroom.

You aren’t too happy to leave as well. As much as you don’t know Aegon from the next frat boy infesting the campus, you feel protective of him, since he fell ill in your bedroom, and you had already rescued him last night, too drunk to even walk properly back to his fraternity building.

But you have no place here: you’re no family of his, and even his blood would probably have to leave, in order for the doctors to work their jobs.

You offer Aegon a tight smile, not liking his ashen color and the dark circles around his eyes.

“I’ll come back in the afternoon, if that’s OK?”

“It’s better if you do so tomorrow. I am afraid we have some more testing to run and Mr. Targaryen will not be here for visiting hours.”

Your answer dies on your lips when Aegon barks a strange laugh, dry and mirthless; What’s so funny about it? You think.

You leave feeling a tight knot of anxiety building in your tummy. You have been having these strange déjà-vu moments as soon as you had woken up and had started fishing for your pill, whose blister had fallen behind your too small bedside table; Aegon’s ridiculous ringtone and his head of platinum hair on your pillow had felt strangely familiar, as if all of this had happened before, which it didn’t, so why you felt so panicked when Aegon opened the window, and even now you feel like there’s something horribly wrong? And why does this day seem to be, strangely, hackneyed?

Time, when you are in a hospital bed, has a strange quality of not passing, whilst running at a crazed speed. To Aegon it felt like you had left an hour ago, instead it was already evening when he was brought back to his room, where Dr. Orwyle was waiting for him, tablet in hand.

“What’s with the long face, Doc?”

Pretend, pretend pretend: that's always been the motto of his family. Even now that he wants to flee, because the killer must be near, he tries to keep up a mask of bravado.

“We have checked your medical history, Mr. Targaryen.” Dr. Orwyle says while handing him the tablet. “Your recent battery of exams shows us…”

Aegon doesn’t let the good doctor finish.

“That I should be dead.”

My body remembers, he thinks, the same way my mind does.

“Were you recently in an accident and, somehow, your records were lost?”

Oh Doc, he thinks, if only there was a way for me to explain everything, without you committing me to a mental institution!

“I think I need a moment.” He lies, with a displeased frown on his face.

His family has pumped a disgusting amount of money into the company that owns this hospital, he knows Dr. Orwyle doesn’t want to make him angry, lest the cash flow stops.

“Of course Mr. Targaryen. One of our nurses is combing the files as we speak. There must have been an unpleasant mistake.”

“Obviously.”

For a moment Aegon thinks the doctor is unto him, knows he’s lying, but the man retires, telling him they will talk tomorrow and that he should sleep: like hell! He needs out!

As fast as his tired body can manage, Aegon removes the monitoring and unplugs the machine from the wall. He has no idea where his clothes are, not that it matters now that he knows his killer is not someone in his life and that, perhaps, the next death will be the last!

On swift feet he runs the length of the dark corridor, until he reaches the nurse’s station, where he sees a woman focused on the computer screen; fleetly he wonders if that’s the person in charge of finding the medical files that should prove he has cheated death. With the corner of his eyes, he notices the policeman sitting in front of a room, but he is too focused on escaping to truly care; when the man enters the room he’s guarding, Aegon couches and crawls, until he is not in sight anymore.

I need out! He thinks.

A part of him knows hiding is impossible, the killer will find him. Perhaps this time he will be able to survive the night, hell! Even kill the asshole! Maybe that’s the key to this paradox, if not, at least it will give him some satisfaction.

The parking lot is huge, and dark. For the first time in his life he understands what Helaena talked bout, when she said how scary it is to go get your car when it’s night: every fucking corner can house his killer, every shadow could be inhabited, and he’ll be none the wiser.

His car is back at the campus and the hospital is far too distant to make it back on foot.

Frantically, he starts checking each and every car, for the one left open by its owner: there’s always troves of people leaving their keys in the ignition, when they are in a hurry.

“Come on! Come on! Come on!” He chants. “Come one you motherfucker!”

He sees Balerion reflected in the car window, its protruding muzzle bent in a sneer and hollow eyes that hide his killer’s. With a shout he ducks and the huge knife falls hollow on the metal of the car.

Aegon rolls and scrambles back to his feet, desperately looking for the elevator: if he can make it up to the ground floor he can ask for help! 

He runs, desperate, feeling his lungs burn as he tries to breathe, the footsteps of his killer so close he can feel them gaining on him. In a last move to kill them, he grabs the fire extinguisher hanging from one of the columns of the parking lot: if only he could buy himself some time!

He doesn’t. He dies, again, stabbed in the chest and abdomen.

He puts up a good fight, even partially incapacitating his assailant with a nasty blow to their heads, but that isn’t enough to save himself and see the dawn of a new day.

As he bleeds to death on the cold pavement, he wonders how many loops he has left, and what will happen once he’s run out of lives.

His stupid ringtone wakes him up and he’s furious, tired with the universe and its dark sense of humor.

“Hi! Do you feel…”

Aegon doesn’t let you speak, he knows the spiel all too well by now.

“I feel like I have been stabbed to death which, surprise! Has happened.”

He marches to your bookshelf, ignoring your surprised stare, to grab the small pouch where you keep your Tylenol: loop or not, he always wakes up with a nasty hangover.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He stares at you with a manic glint in his eyes and you take a step back.

“Of course you don’t. How many loops ago have I told you my story? And you gave me your genius solution: solve my own murder. You might be smarter than most, but it was the stupidest idea you’ve ever had in your entire life!”

You feel beyond out of depth: what the hell is he raving about?

You follow him when he leaves your apartment, slamming the front door.

“Hey! Aegon! What are you talking about?”

You manage to reach him and grab him by the arm. He feels hot and sweaty under your palm; he trudges along, ignoring your added weight.

“Did you take any drugs last night?”

This stops him. He wheels around to look into your eyes, before turning your body to press your back to his front, one arm draped across your chest, the other light on your chin.

“I wish this was all drug induced paranoia. And, as much as I like you, I don’t have the time nor the energy to tell you the whole story again so, either you believe me or not.”

Panicked, you grab at his arm. You don’t know what is going on, why he’s acting the way he is, and you don’t care, he needs to let you go.

“I’m stuck in a time loop that resets itself with my death. No, I don’t know who the killer is and I don’t know how to stop the son of a bitch. I have already told you my story some loops ago and you have forgotten.”

“Look,  Aegon, I know you drank too much last night. Perhaps you’re still confused…”

He doesn’t let you finish again and you’re going to kick him for that.

“Shut up and listen.” He tells you.

The hand previously holding your chin lifts to sign at the people around you two.

“Two girls, they want to eat me alive and I might let them, at this point.”

He forces you to walk a couple of steps, before stopping again to point at the anonymous white van parked on the side of the road.

“Alarm in three, two, one…”

Triggered by an unseen cause, the alarm blares as the lights of the van start blinking madly.

“Sprinklers!”

On your right a group of students is drenched by the irrigation system and they scramble to grab their belongings.

“Aegon…”

“The guy is falling… now!”

Too busy looking at the students, a guy wearing a suit falls all over his feet and plants himself in front of you and Aegon.

You are too surprised to speak: how does he know…?

“I told you. Time loop.”

And thankfully he’s holding you tight, or you would have fallen on your arse.

This time he tells you everything at the local diner, as you scarf down a full vegan breakfast. 

“So.” You say, drinking down your second cup of tea. “You told me all of this before and my suggestion was to solve your murder?”

Aegon looks at you from the rim of his own cup of coffee. He hasn’t eaten anything, still too nauseous from a bar crawl that happened too many loops ago, yesterday night.

“Correct.”

“And why is that a stupid idea? You have infinite lives, the way I see it.”

“I don’t. I come back from every death more tired than the one before. I am not sure how long I have, before this sticks.”

“Bill Murray didn’t have this issue.”

“Who?”

“Have you ever seen Groundhog Day?”

“No, I haven’t. You keep referring to obscure pieces of media! In that loop you quoted a Doctor�� Whom?”

“It’s Doctor Who, you dummy. Have you ever watched good TV in your entire life?”

“No, I usually am out having fun.”

“Look how that turned out for you.”

You both stay silent, letting the noises of the diner fill for the non existent conversation.

“What was this Bill Murray guy's goal?”

“He kept repeating the same day until he realized what a piece of shit person he was and changed his ways.”

“Yeah. I can see why.”

Aegon hangs his head to look at his hands. Nervous, he plays with his little finger, where his signet ring should be, as his brain shows him, again, what a piece of shit he’s always been to everyone around him: his mum, letting all her hopes down, his siblings, his friends and all his lovers. They all expected him to do better, to be better and he had always turned his back at them. Sometimes it was the only thing he could do, when faced with too many responsibilities, others, he was being cruel and self-centered. 

He’s been trying now, during the loops, by helping the elderly lady cross the street and being nice to the newer additions to the fraternity. He doesn’t know what to do with his mum and all she expects from him, all of these ideas that scare him and make him want to disappear forever.

“It is daunting.” Your soft voice cuts through his thoughts. “The way a time loop makes you look at yourself. It shifts your perspective in a way none of us can truly understand. It gives you a chance though: you are more aware of your bad behaviors and can put a stop to it.”

“It is too late.” He tells you, not truly looking into your eyes.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You can always choose to do better for yourself. You can’t change the past, but you can decide not to make the same mistakes again.”

His fidgeting stops, he’s holding his hand with such a tight vise you’re afraid he will hurt himself.

“Not everyone accepts that. Not everyone wants to see you at your best, they only care about the way they want you to be.”

“Those are the people you deserve a non so polite ‘fuck off’ and zero dedication to make the relationship better. The others though, they’re worth the hassle.”

“You’re far too optimistic.” He replies, his voice dry and scratchy.

“I’m being objective. You can’t be what every single person in their lives wants you to be; it’s up to them to accept that you are your own person. Will this hurt them? Yes, but then again, they have to sort out their feelings, you can’t do this work for them. Your job is to be the best version of yourself you can offer the word.”

The chatter around your table drones your voice out of his head: which is the best version of himself? The one who had always preferred to drink and party, instead of facing the disappointment in his mom’s eyes? Or the one that had poured all his frustration on his younger brother and his foolish dream of being perfect, for the two of them? Or the one who has always felt weirded out by Helaena neurodivergence? Does he even have a better part to offer the word? His only quality is that he loves his dog more than anything, and there’s that.

Being struck in this nightmare has only shown him the bad parts of himself, and that there’s nothing more than that; even if he wanted to better himself, he knows he’ll crush under the pressure after a day or two. He is a spineless, worthless waste of air and resources that someone else would use better than he’ll ever do, who will relapse after the first, mild, issue happening in his life.

“I hope it sticks.” He says, looking at the worn out paneling behind you. “I don’t have anything good to offer to the world.”

He hears you put your cutlery aside to take a sip of tea.

“That’s the Stranger whispering in your ear. It’s always easier to follow the same, old path our brains have carved out, instead of doing the hard work to create newer ones, healthier ones.”

“It’s easy for you to say.”

“I elect to ignore that because you are upset.” The coldness in your voice snaps him back within the conversation. “You have no idea what I had to go through to be here, with you. The same way I don’t know why you value yourself so little. You are given a chance to look at your mistakes and fix them. 

I don’t know why the Gods have chosen you, but they did. I could argue for hours why they intrude in our lives the way they do, but this is not a philosophy class. This is you having to make the work: no money, no connection can help you solve this conundrum, but yourself.”

He dares to look at you. He can see that you’re angry at him in the way your lips are set, how stony your eyes are: he’s managed to let you down. A complete stranger who had showered him with kindness, only to be kicked aside.

“The serial killer known as the Heart Stealer has been admitted today into the surgical ward.”

The voice of the journalist makes the two of you jump in your seats: someone has asked the waitress to turn the audio on and the whole diner is now looking at the photos of pretty, blond coed boys, slain by the man.

Something snaps into place in Aegon’s mind: his murderer can’t be anyone he knows because it’s this asshole! He fits his victims: the age, the hair color and lifestyle. All party boys, found without their hearts and this asshole was on his same floor, during the last loop: of course Aegon had been wrong in looking within his circle, his killer was outside of it!

“It’s him!” He shouts in your face. “This time he’s going to be in for a nasty surprise!”

He ignores your voice as he runs out of the diner: he has a plan and little time to fulfill it.

Stupidly enough, the general surgery ward is not crammed with guards, nor is it sealed from the rest of the hospital: there’s only one policeman sitting in front of the Stealer’s single room.

On his way to the hospital, Aegon had listened to the radio, trying to find any form of information on the guy; unfortunately for himself, he has never cared about keeping himself up to date with the news and now his brain is trying to absorb as much information as possible. It all boils down to the bastard being in need of surgical care, perhaps, Aegon thinks, he faked whatever illness and is going to use this chance to escape.

“And he might.” Aegon murmurs against the plastic rim of the cup he’s nursing.

Aegon has zero knowledge of police work, but even he realizes that one guy, already half asleep, might not be enough to stop a serial killer.

Aegon stands up and exits the ward. During the last loop he remembers how easily he had escaped his room and floor, and that the policeman wasn’t there. His last death happened during the blackout, which means that between the cop entering the room and the asshole murdering him, there was a lull of some minutes, five maybe ten, if he wants to be generous. He needs to incapacitate the man before the lights go out, he doesn’t need to kill him, just knock him out and wait for the clock to strike midnight and for his life to go on, as it should.

There’s only one nurse at the station and she’s busy reading a cheap paperback. The corridors are dark, the only source of light is the lamp hanging over the woman, and the ones in the corridor where the cop is.

Light on his feet, Aegon makes his way to where the nurse is, wishing he had a weapon on himself: he’ll have to make do with the pen he’s nicked at the front desk.

Fast he grabs the woman and pushes the pen against her back, as soon as the cop enters the room.

“Go get help! He’s going to escape!” He screams in her ear.

The poor woman doesn’t even look at him, she runs, leaving him alone with his killer.

His stomach turns at the thought of facing the man, his many deaths crowd into his mind: what if he fails? What if this is his last chance?

His heart beats a crazy tattoo in his chest as he stands in front of the fire extinguisher sitting next to the door: a weapon as good as any other.

He breaks the glass using his elbow and grabs the cylinder, a part of his brain wondering at how heavy it is, his frontal lobe focusing on the door in front of himself: it’s now or never!

He opens it carefully, noticing the body of the police officer on the floor, and the empty bed: where is the Stealer?

The shove from behind makes him lose his footing, there’s a hand now in his hair and another grabs his jacket, slamming him repeatedly against the wall, until the extinguisher falls from his hands.

“Now pretty boys land themselves in my hands. You’re making everything too easy.”

Aegon doesn’t know what his body responds to: the breath, stinky, next to his ear, or the cruel laugh, not that it matters.

His body moves in autopilot, hands pushing against the wall to tumble his assailant back and turn around, to face the demented eyes and the scalpel; he dashes when the man tries to stab him and runs out of the room, searching for something, anything to hit the bastard.

With a strength born out of desperation, he grabs the chair left vacant by the nurse, and bashes it against the man, missing his head but hitting his shoulder; the Stealer screams and loses his hold on the scalpel, lounging at him with his hands stretched out to grab the legs to wrestle the chair out of his grasp.

In the melee neither Aegon, nor the Stealer see you coming, your body pushing with all your weight against the older man, forcing him to fall on the floor, you tumbling on him as you scratch and punch at him, screaming with anger and fear.

You’re uncoordinated, fueled by desperation and Aegon sees the Stealer snap your head, your body falling on the floor.

In horror he stands still during the precious seconds of the power outage, he screams and lounges for the scalpel as soon as the lights come back, crushing the man’s hand when he tries to go for it, his feet connecting with his head, his chest and the soft belly in a frenzy. He’s unaware that he’s screaming, that his free hand has grabbed the man’s hair and that he’s ready to stab him, stopped by the thought of breaking the loop, which will leave you to your death.

“No.” He shouts. “No!”

He’s at a crossroad again: himself or the umpteenth victim in his wake?

He lets the body of the Stealer hit the floor, the man’s face a grotesque mask of blood and spit; Aegon’s eyes never leave the man as he lays the scalpel on his jugular.

“See you during the next one.” He says, stabbing himself hoping, against hopes, to have, at least, one life left.

He wakes up with the sickening sensation of gurgling on his own blood. He dashes to the small trash basket next to your cramped desk, and empties his stomach loudly; he doesn’t feel your hand on his forehead keeping his hair out of his face, or the other you put on his back, soothing his retching with circular motions. He falls back into your front when all he can do is push out saliva mixed with bile.

“Are you ok?” You tentatively ask, crushed under his weight.

Faster than what you thought he could move, Aegon turns around and kneels between your splayed legs, his hands on yours to help you sit up.

“Never been better!” He says with a strange glint in his eyes. “Look, I know this will make no sense, but today is my nameday…”

“Happy nameday, then!”

“Yeah, yeah. Will you pop by the fraternity later today? I don’t want to go to stupid parties, I want to celebrate with you!”

“Thank you?” You answer, unsure.

What the hell is going on with this guy? You think.

“We barely know one another, though. Are you sure you’re not still drunk?”

“I know I sound manic. I feel manic! I promise I will tell you everything and the story will blow your mind! Just come after nine tonight? One of my brothers is going to give me my favorite cupcake and all I want to do is share it with you.”

“I’m not going to fuck you, Aegon.”

“What? I never said that! Just spend my nameday with me, please?”

He looks eager, if he had a tail he would be wiggling it furiously. 

“I barely know you, Aegon.”

“You do and you don't!” He raises his hand when you try to talk. “I promise I will explain everything when you come by. And nothing will happen, but us eating, I swear on Sunfyre.”

You ponder the guy in front of you: he's the king of the fratboys. You know he spends his time partying with his brothers, yet, the times you stumbled upon him, like last night, he had always given you the impression of someone desperate to escape his life, rather than your average coed guy trying to have fun. 

Sitting between your splayed legs, he doesn't look haunted, his giddiness real. 

“Ok, I will come and if you try anything…”

“I swear!”

You elected to believe the promise of a fratboy, hoping you will not regret it. 

“I need to go now! I’ll see you later!”

He jumps on his feet surprisingly fast for someone who had been throwing up in your trashcan. The hand he offers you to help you on your feet is warm and dry, the hold strong on yours. 

“Aegon! Wait!”

You manage to catch him at the door. 

“Your ring!”

“I’m sorry I was an asshole all the times you tried to give it back.” He says, lilac eyes not truly meeting yours.

“Aegon…?”

He’s already dashed out of the door, leaving you staring at his back, dumbfounded.

“What you do to guys, I swear.”

The voice of your roommate makes you jump.

“Oh! Shut up, will you?”

Aegon is prepared for tonight, and you will not be in his way to kill his murderer: everything will go according to plan and he will be able to steer his life into a better direction than the one he’s kept all along.

Aegon’s heart squeezes painfully when his mum’s name appears on his phone’s screen for the umpteenth time, along with Daeron’s; he knows his relationship with his family is a can of worms he has to deal with, being what, amongst other things, has turned him into drowning his sorrows into as much alcohol and sex he could get.

If this infernal time loop has taught him something, is that he has to take the reins and face the pain that will surely come barreling into his face, and that it’s inevitable, as his death has been for too many times.

If he thinks about it: what does he have to lose? Both his mother and grandsire consider him a failure, he knows they want him in the family company to use him as a pawn, since he’s shown them he can’t be anything else. Their opinion of him is so low that tanking it will not be any worse than being mauled by the wood chopper, and if it’s what he has to go through to live his life and not trudge through it, then be it. He doesn’t want to be the person he’s seen through the loop any longer, he wants to be different, better, even though the work ahead scares him beyond belief.

As he showers he thinks about his siblings, how he’s let them down throughout the years, made fun of them or, even worse, ignored them when they needed their older brother: what if they don’t give him a chance to heal their broken relationships? Will the universe give him that, after showing him repeatedly how bad he’s been? Is there a silver lining?

Aegon forces himself to accept the way his stomach churns as those thoughts swim through his head while he puts the cupcake in one of the drawers, away from Sunfyre’s curiosity (it feels so strange to repeat these movements loop after loop, like a marionette).

What if no one will want him ever again? Even you, whom he has never hurt?

Aegon crumples on the floor, hugging Sunfyre who tries to lick the tears flowing down his cheeks: he has never let himself feel his emotions so deeply and now they tore at him like hungry wolves. 

The pain is a physical vise that crushes him into a ball on the dirty floor of his room and churns his stomach, it flashes through his body like lashing, leaving him crumpled and shaking, still bawling even when his tears have stopped.

For a moment he lets the darkness in, that seductive voice that has always told him that he should stop fighting and drown his feelings in any way possible. All this pain is not worth it, the voice tells him, let the killer come: if you’ve done your math right, you’re going to run out of lives soon and you won’t have to feel anything, anymore.

It’s a nice idea, just drown and stop existing, then your face flashes in front of his eyes. The worry when he had broken down, too many loops ago, the gentleness of your voice trying to soothe him: would you ever let him in your life? 

He forces himself on his back, he has to physically order all his muscles to relax on the disgusting floor.

You and him belong to the same year, different degrees and friends circles, yet he’s always noticed you. You are not a party person, but you have your fun, you even came to a couple of parties thrown by his fraternity, catching his attention with how comfortable in your skin you were.

He’s seen people of any gender try to hide their insecurities using any means possible: clothing, make up, a fake personality and so on, yet he’s always noticed you more than any other person that’s ever tried to catch his attention.

If he has to be truthful, and why not be at this point? You scare him a lot. Way smarter than he is, and more confident: you don’t have to hide who you are under a fake persona, like he does, you enter the room, and if someone has an issue with it, you don’t care. Is there anything hotter than self confidence?

“We’re doing this, Sunfyre.” He tells the dog laying by his side. “And then we’ll show them we’re worth their time.”

The dog raises his head and licks his face until Aegon laughs.

He has no idea if he’s worth your time or if he has anything truly interesting to offer you, but if he needs a tether against the darkness, it might as well be trying to be the kind of guy you might like.

This time he’s come prepared: he’s nicked the biggest knife the fraternity has in the kitchen drawer, that he can easily conceal under his clothes, and he is now hiding in one of the visitor’s bathrooms. He needs to remind himself the man is armed, some idiot has let him take their scalpel, so he needs to keep him away from himself: he can’t risk dying again.

He waits, more patient than he’s ever been in his entire life, for all the visitors and the afternoon personnel to leave the ward to the night nurse and the half asleep cop. 

When he’s ready, he exits the bathroom and lets the door bang behind him, using the shadows to disguise his body as the nurse leaves her post to investigate. As soon as she’s in front of the room, he knocks her out, mumbling an apology, and lays her body in one of the stalls: one innocent victim out of the way.

His heart is ramming in his chest as he walks to the nurse station, where he crouches to avoid being seen before he needs to.

This loop he’s timed his actions perfectly: he stands the second the cop has his back to the nurse station and he’s about to enter the room: Before the man can do anything, Aegon grabs his collar and puts the knife against his back.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, trying to keep his voice calm. “But he’s going to escape and I need your weapon.”

The man stiffens in his hold, his hand reflexively going to the gun strapped to his hip, before the blade pushes against his back more firmly.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, son.”

Aegon cringes at the condescendent way the man talks to him: he knows more than this man ever will.

“He will escape and kill again, trust me on this one. You only need to put the gun on the floor and then go ask for backup.”

He pushes the knife against the man’s back for good measure, until he removes the gun from the holster and bends cautiously, while murmuring calming words that only fuel’s Aegon’s adrenaline.

As soon as the man is standing again, Aegon knocks him out: there’s no need for backup.

His hands shake when he retrieves the gun, surprised by how heavy it is when he lifts it to the closed door.

In this moment, Aegon is simply instinct, adrenaline pumped into his bloodstream that makes him kick the door open, the man on the bed not even stirring when the wood meets the walls with a bang.

“I know you’re awake, asshole.” Aegon barks. “Stand up, hands where I can see them!”

The Stealer opens his eyes and leers at him, his yellow teeth in full display: the outage should happen soon.

“Now pretty boys land themselves in my hands. You’re making everything too easy.” The man says, sizing him up.

“You wish!”

Aegon pulls the trigger, again and again, but nothing happens. Stupidly he looks at the gun in his hand, ignoring the threat in front of himself for a second too long.

His body slams painfully against the wall, the Stealer’s hand grabbing his wrist and banging it against the wall, trying to make him lose his hold on the firearm. Aegon tries to push back, his breath coming out in desperate pants, his free hand grabbing the man’s unkempt hair, pulling back with all his strength until the Stealer lets go, only to push him through the open door, Aegon’s feet tripping on the cop’s unconscious body.

He hears the clunk of the gun hit the floor, somewhere on his left; on instinct he kicks the Stealer in the attempt to beat him to it.

They scramble on the floor, pushing and scratching at one another, pulling each other back with desperation, rolling on the dirty linoleum, until the lights disappear and Aegon uses the surprise to disentangle himself and grab the gun.

It’s a matter of seconds, when the lights come back on, he’s standing in front of the man, gun pointed at his head.

“See you never, you son of a bitch!”

The bang is louder than he expected, and the blood spraying his hoodie is a surprise, what isn’t is the sense of fulfillment that permeates his being: he’s just killed a man and he’s relieved that he’s not going to end this day gurgling on his own blood, but with you.

You two are sitting by the window in his room with the lights off, the moonlight creates shadows on the walls as you two stare at the chocolate cupcake sitting on the floor, Sunfyre already begging to have a small bite.

“So.” You say, killing your cigarette. “Time loop.”

Aegon evades your stare, his purple eyes staring at the stars shining above you two.

“It sounds crazy, I know.”

“It’s no stranger than any of my quantum physics classes. Look, I’m not going to bother you with the specifics, but some have theorized that time loops might be possible.”

Aegon shivers. You have already said that, so many time loops ago.

“I have managed to solve mine, like the guy you told me about.”

You stare at him quizzically.

“You told me about a movie. Woodchuck Day?”

“Groundhog Day, you mean? I don’t remember us talking about it.”

“We did. During the last time loop.”

“It’s so strange. We lived lives together and I will never know about them.”

Aegon feels warmth rise in his cheeks, it’s for the better that you don’t remember, he was an arse in half of them.

“It was a nightmare. The only good thing was waking up and seeing your face.”

There, he said it. It’s not a love declaration but it feels like one.

“Don’t tell me even frat boys have hearts?”

You joke, but you can’t ignore the way his words make you feel: it’s been a while since a guy flirting makes you smile and not cringe.

“We hide it extremely well.” He’s blushing so hard he’s positive you can see it even in the dimly lit room. “Shall we?”

He offers you the cupcake, you surprise him by putting a small candle on the confectionery and lighting it swiftly.

“Make a wish. It’s your nameday, afterall.”

Aegon closes his eyes and blows on the small flame.

He wakes in your bed, awoken by the pounding in his temples and the terrible ringtone of his phone.

“No!”

He screams with so much desperation you fly yourself to him, grabbing his arms to stop him before he does anything stupid.

“Aegon? What’s going on?”

You picked him up last night, too drunk to function and so pathetic you couldn’t leave him at the pub, alone, to choke on his own vomit.

“I did everything right! I killed him before he could kill me!”

“Aegon?”

His purple eyes focus on you, filled with tears and desperation.

“I don’t want to die again!”

You don’t understand what’s happening, why he’s flying off the handle this way.

“Did you take drugs last night?” You grab his chin, ignoring his morning breath. “Aegon! Answer me!”

“I didn’t!”

“Then why are you panicking like this?”

He opens his mouth, ready to spill, again, when his mind screeches to a stop: in the midst of his own panic a part of his mind is going through the last time loop, what happened and what didn’t happen.

“I wasn’t murdered.” He says, looking at you but not really focusing. “I died in my sleep.”

And there’s only one way for that to have happened, he thinks.

“What are you talking about?”

Now you’re scared: is he having a mental breakdown?

“I don’t have the time to explain!”

He jumps from your bed and dresses himself hastily. Before you can stop him, he grabs your phone and inputs his number to call his own phone.

“Aegon! Aegon please calm down! Why are you talking about murder?”

“I promise I will explain everything!” His hands are on your shoulder, his eyes burning. “I have one little thing to do to break this fucking time loop, and then I will tell you again what I have already told you!”

You’re too dumbfounded to answer, you don’t even push him away when he soundly kisses you on the lips.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Because you're a genius!”

“Aegon, are you sure you’re alright?”

He stops by the door to your room and stares at you more lively than you have ever seen him.

“I am. As you said: I need to solve my own murder to break the loop.”

He runs to the frat house ignoring the burning in his lungs, his brain going through the various time loops, cataloging what never changed: you, the hangover, the power outage. And the cupcake.

In every time loop he was always too nauseated to eat the gift from his frat brother and then he was too focused on outsmarting his killer to even remember the confectionery. The only time he’s eaten them was with you, this last death, of this he’s beyond certain.

But, why? He wonders. What did I do to cause all of this?

His feet screech to a halt in front of the frat house: he can’t escape it, either he faces his killer, or he’ll come for him, perhaps for the last time.

He enters the big house faking a calmness he doesn’t possess. He forces his body to move slowly, to smile and joke with the other guys, until he reaches his room, where his killer will arrive, way too soon.

Sunfyre jumps into his body, putting his big paws on his shoulders and licking his face as if he hasn’t seen him in days; Aegon lets himself be swept by the love his four legged friend has for him, pure and all encompassing.

When he hears the knock on his door he orders Sunfyre to sit by his desk, the dog followsd his orderbut looks at him as if he knows something is off.

“Come in!”

Aegon’s heart is beating a mad tattoo in his chest, he hopes his face betrays nothing of what he’s finally discovered when his friend, the very Martyn Reyne who entered this Frat House with him, is his killer.

“Hey man! Happy nameday!!!”

Aegon has to stop himself from moving his body away from the other guy, he suppresses a shiver when he hugs him and pats his back, as if he hasn’t been killing him time and time again.

“Here’s a little surprise for you!”

Martyn must detect that something is wrong, Aegon realizes, because his brows knit.

“Oh yeah, a surprise it is.” He says, not even trying to hide how sour he feels.

“What’s wrong man? Did your mum call you already?”

Aegon takes the cupcake from Martyn’s hand and focuses his eyes on it, wondering what poison laces it, and why one of his oldest friends would want to cause him harm.

He knows his face has fallen, the tentative smile replaced by a deep frown.

“You know Martyn, I have come to realize I don’t know the people around me at all!”

Aegon says, circling him.

“Was it last night? We were all too wasted! We thought you were with us!”

Aegon feels no pleasure in noticing how Martyn moves to follow his movements, how false his voice is.

“Nah, it was you killing me a thousand times.”

“Aegon, man…”

Martyn raises his hands, as if to defend himself, but Aegon doesn’t let him finish.

“Did you have to get creative because I didn’t eat the cupcake? Or did you watch the news about the Stealer and thought he could be the perfect scapegoat? You intern at the hospital, it was you the idiot who let him nick his scalpel, weren’t you?”

“Aegon, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

For a blessed second, Aegon lets himself believe his friend: his killer was indeed the Stealer, and the cupcake has simply gone off the worst of ways. He’ll not be killed and wake up in your bed, and his friend is not lying to him.

He notices, though, the way Martyn’s posture has changed, he’s not pretending to be relaxed anymore; he’s still turning in a circle following Aegon, but he looks ready to pounce, his muscles straining under the gym clothes he’s wearing.

“Well.” Aegon stops his own pacing. “If you don’t know what I am talking about, you’ll share this cupcake with me.”

He grabs Martyn’s shoulder, pulling the other man closer to his own body, ready to smash the confectionery against his lips.

Before he can act, Martyn manages to disengage and push himself away, his back now facing the window.

“How did you find it out?”

Martyn’s face has lost the friendly smile and is now turned into an ugly snarl.

“I told you: you killed me a thousand times. I still don’t understand why.”

Aegon hears Sunfyre’s low growl and imagines the dog ready to pounce; he immediately puts himself between the dog and the other man, he can’t risk the health of his only friend.

“You’re mad, man. And a cunt. You want to know why I want you dead? Because you have everything and leave nothing to us mortals! Girls fawn over you! Everyone wants to be your friend and you are the shittiest person I have ever met!”

Martyn advances and Aegon is forced to do a half circle to keep his distance.

“I have to sweat for everything! And you spend your life partying! I deserve to have what you have and if I can’t, neither do you!”

Faster than Aegon can expect, Martyn jumps him with a primal scream, one of his hands shooting out to grab the cupcake and force it in Aegon’s mouth. The latter manages to push against his weight and throws the confectionery away from himself and his dog.

The two fall on the floor, fists and kicks flying. Aegon manages to dodge Martyn’s hands around his throat and stands up, heading desperately to the door as he screams to Sunfyre to stay put.

He chokes on his spit when Martyn grabs his hair and pulls him back right before he can grab the doorknob. Grunting Aegon uses his full weight to make Martyn fall on the floor, but pushes too fast and too far, realizing too late that they are free falling from his window, to the unforgiving patch of concrete in front of the fraternity house.

The alarm sounds so far away that Aegon’s ears can barely pick the sound over your moans, and his.

Your hips roll a steady rhythm and he’s desperate not to spill inside of you, not yet.

He can’t still ride you the way he fantasized while he was at the hospital, not when his ribs are still on the mend and Dr. Orwyle hasn’t given him a full bill of health; not that he complains with your breasts in his face and your delectable cunt strangling his cock.

His hands grab your hips in a desperate vise, he’s dangling upon the precipice, begging you for permission with a strangled voice. He only needs your breathy command to lose himself in your depths, you following with a long moan of pleasure.

You grab the headboard to keep yourself upright and not fall on a still healing Aegon: who would have thought that the king of fratboys could be so good in bed? A giver, bruised ribs notwithstanding?

“Have I hurt you?”

You curl against his side, too afraid of harming his ribs to lay on his chest the way you desire.

Aegon needs a second to collect his scattered thoughts, the way you fucked him has scrambled his remaining brain cells.

“Never been better.” He answers, with a dreamy smile.

While falling out of the window, he truly thought he was going to die, again, after having discovered his own killer.

He had been close to death, with broken ribs and a punctured lung, a concussion that had scared the surgeons and kept him in ICU for far too long: he’s lucky he’s made it out of the blasted time loop, alive and with you by his side.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Do you need your vape?”

“No, wait.” Slowly he sits more comfortably against the ridiculous amount of pillows you’ve provided him since he’s moved to your place.

His room at the Frat House is not a crime scene anymore, having been analyzed while he was still in hospital, yet he couldn’t force himself to set foot in there, not while he’s still trying to come to terms with all the violence he’s been through.

“You made a face when you first saw me vape.”

“I didn’t!”

“Not now. During a time loop.”

You pop your head on your hand to look better in his eyes.

“We lived lives together, and I remember none of that!”

“You said something like that…”

“During a time loop. You told me that.”

When you received the call from the paramedic, alerting you that Aegon was hurt and that he was refusing help, if the guy didn’t call you, you felt like something had snapped into place.

It had been a peculiar sensation, as if the hours building up to the phone call were gray and dull, your life more lively and bright after you closed the call and ran to the Frat House.

Initially you had thought it was the adrenaline kick you received at the news that Aegon was badly injured, then, when he told you about the time loop, your mind kept wandering to a Stephen King’s novella, The Langoliers: if you had to use that story as a metaphor, you felt like the characters after they managed to leave the airport in the past: alive. Which makes no sense to your scientific mind, yet, since no one has ever managed to create a time loop in a controlled setting, who are you to say that the days lived in that situation can’t feel dull and hackneyed?

Aegon’s phone rings again and you grab it for him.

“It’s Aemond, again!”

“Is he afraid we will not make the date with him and his girl?”

“Probably. I've always been shit at family functions.”

Aegon cracks a smile: he’s trying to steer his life in a better direction, and nurturing his relationship with his siblings is part of that goal.

You observe him with a smile on your face: despite being in different year groups, you share a philosophy class with his younger brother Aemond; you had actually butted heads with him on more than one occasion and on topics far too inane for two people who are simply minoring in that field. 

You still think the younger Targaryen is a pompous assholes most of the time, but you like his girlfriend and only the Mother knows how much you need support to navigate the mess that’s the Targaryen family!

When Aegon ends the call, you kiss the tip of his nose and he smiles at you as if you hanged the sun and stars in the sky. According to him, you were the reason he managed to stay sane during his onslaught, giving him advice and being supportive, even though your memory resat itself with every loop.

“I need to get ready.” Aegon tells you after a moment. “I need to go see my therapist in an hour. Would you be happy if we met up at the restaurant? I don’t want to be lectured on punctuality again.” He huffs.

You are so proud of him for trying to stick to the plan of self improvement he’s decided for himself. 

He still bitches when you force him to sit down and do some actual studying, instead of relying on his family name to pass his classes, but you’ve noticed how different he is, compared to the fratboy you had always seen on campus. Despite almost dying (or dying too many times), he appears happier, more focused and not just trudging through life, the way you had always seen him.

“No problems.” You stand up, gloriously naked. “Come. I think I need to finish rewarding you for completing your studies for this week.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

Gods he’s hard already, the endorphins being thousands of times better than any pain relief he’s been prescribed.

“Follow me under the shower and you shall find out.”

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024, #29 hero

Chapters 1 to 5 here on AO3

If you like the tattoo AU give it some love on my AO3, please. It would mean a lot to me. TYSM!

+++++

White Pony Tattoo - Part Nine (hero)

John turned around to head for the next bus stop, not knowing if he would even be able to get there. Taking a step and moving away from the tattoo shop seemed impossible. The weight of the world was crushing down on his shoulders and the outlook of not seeing Sherlock for at least a week cut deep into his chest and right into his heart.

The connection I’ve felt, being with Sherlock. Now that it’s gone, I almost feel sick.

John rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily.

Dear God, I think I’ve fallen for him. Fuck. Not just his looks, which are top notch of course, no, it’s the whole package of his personality. Even if he is a real dick at times. I can’t help it.

And yet, I’m wondering.

Did he feel it, too? He practically glowed down there in the lab, speaking to me, showing off his equipment. My appreciation of what he has achieved made him incandescent.

But does he like me back? As a person, as John Watson, the whole package I come with? Or was he just happy to have an audience that applauded his every move? To be forgotten as soon as I’m gone and out of his sight?

The gloomy thoughts clogged John’s brain and rendered him unable to walk away, condemning him to oscillate on the pavement in front of the shop.

“Oh, hello dear. You must be John?”

John was so preoccupied by his musings that he jumped badly when a woman’s voice suddenly adressed him.

“Erm, yes?”

Looking into the direction the voice had come from, John registered a frail but distinguished looking old lady. She had just sat down two heavy looking bags with groceries and held a bunch of keys in her hand. A large golden number dangled from the main key ring.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But you looked so forlorn and sad. Sherlock has not rejected you again, or has he?”

“Ah, no, he’ll tattoo me,” John quickly connected the puzzle pieces, “and you must be Sherlock’s landlady.”

“Tch, I forgot to introduce myself properly.” She chuckled and offered her hand. “I’m Martha Hudson. Most of the time I’m more like Sherlock’s housekeeper since he cannot be arsed to do the simplest household chores himself.”

Shaking her hand firmly, John laughed. “That sounds very much like him. Always thinking about ink, is he?”

“Yes, yes. He calls it the INK, written all in capital letters. It’s his greatest passion, he cares for little else.” She unlocked the front door.

This offhand comment struck a chord in John, one whose sound he did not really want to hear again. Doubt. Doubt if Sherlock really cared about him apart from putting INK on his skin. He shook himself mentally, trying to get rid of the anxiety that crept upon him like a feral beast.

“Pleased to meet you. Let me just praise the scones you’ve made. They’ve been the best I ever had.”

Mrs Hudson made a delighted sound. “What a charmer you are!”

“Just telling the truth.” John pointed to the grocery bags. “Can I help you with these?”

“Oh, please, if you don’t mind, dear. When the weather is like this, my bad hip is always acting up.”

John carried the bags into 221A, Mrs Hudson’s flat on the ground floor. He put them onto her kitchen table and was about to leave when she invited him on a cup of tea as a thank you for his help. Like every proper Englishman, John could not refuse.

“Did you know that Sherlock explicitly requested tea and scones for you today?” Mrs Hudson said when she handed John the cup with steaming hot tea, watching his face quizzically.

“No?” The undeniable sly look on her otherwise so friendly and open face caught John a bit on the wrong foot. “I thought it was the usual hospitality he shows to his clients.”

Mrs Hudson outright laughed.

“My dear, he never cares about hospitality. The clients come to him anyway, no matter how rude he behaves. Can you imagine my surprise when he asked me to provide tea and scones for your appointment today?”

She refilled John’s tea cup. “He said I need tea and the best scones you can bake when John comes back. Sherlock even added a please in an afterthought.”

“He was sure I’d come back and acept his offer. He just knew.” John shrugged. “He knew me better than I know myself.”

“Not the point, dear. Sherlock wanted to have tea and scones for you. He wanted to impress you and be nice. You must mean something to him if he goes to such lenghts, don’t you think?” Mrs Hudson winked and grinned.

John wondered if she had adopted this mannerism from Sherlock or if it had been the other way around.

“I don’t know. I’d like to think so.” John decided to be honest with Mrs Hudson. Somehow, he was convinced he could trust her. He added wistfully. “I really wish I would be more to him than just the next canvas to put his INK onto.”

“He’s had a hard time in the past,” Mrs Hudson said, “he doesn’t let people get close to him easily or quickly lowers the protective shield he’s put around his heart.”

“Really?” John wondered. “He seemed pretty open and relaxed when he showed me all the stuff in his ink laboratory in the basement.”

“He what?” Mrs Hudson cried out and jumped up. The hip was not bothering her now, apparently.

“John! He never lets people in there. It’s his sanctum sanctorum. It took four months and constant nagging on my behalf until he let me take a look and I own this house. If he shows it to you just like this, you have to be very special to him already!”

Blissful warmth spread through John’s body. His nerves tingled and his blood sang a dulcet melody full of hope. Could it be that…

John beamed. “Thank you so much for telling me, Mrs Hudson. That he cares about me.”

Suddenly, Mrs Hudson’s posture changed.

She fixated John with ice cold eyes, pinning him on the chair. Steel had replaced every trace of her earlier softness and age-related frailty. She stepped up to John.

“Just to give a you heads-up, you’re not the only person who cares about Sherlock.” Her voice was sharp, quiet and deadly serious. “Or protects him.”

It sent chills running down John’s spine.

Mrs Hudson briefly squeezed John’s shoulder. “If you hurt him, I’ll lace your tea with rat poison. I know a nice lad who is a building contractor and he’ll bury your body somewhere in a concrete slab.”

Theatrical as it might appear, John believed her every word.

And just like this, the fearsome avenging angel that had occupied Mrs Hudson’s body disappeared, leaving the nice old landlady behind.

“Do you want another cup of tea, my dear?” She asked sweetly.

In this moment John decided that Martha Hudson was a true heroine.

++++++

tagging some people @totallysilvergirl @peageetibbs  @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @calaisreno

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2024 :: Day Six

Prompt: Halcyon Characters: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Estinien Varlineau, Bayarmaa Sagahl Word Count: 788 Notes: Digimon AU

Master List

Visits from Estinien had become common enough at the hospital that when he passed it this time around, he had to take pause. As he stared at it, Gonetomon huffed in thought, his breath becoming steam in the winter air. Where Estinien would have taken the time to visit Nomin, he remembered the text he had received just a couple days ago.

‘I'm finally being released from the hospital!’

A small, gentle smile crept across Estinien’s lips as he shoved his hands into his pockets and continued on his way. His response at the time asked her if she had plans on celebrating at all.

‘I'd like to! But only if you celebrate with me!’

And so, Estinien received an address and a date. On the map on his phone, the address showed a grocery store front called ‘Buckthorn’ -- odd, but he doubted Nomin was leading him astray. He was thankful, however, that he only needed to use the bus as he normally would have coming to this part of town.

Passing the hustle and bustle of the daytime hours, Estinien eventually found his way to the unmistakable storefront. He had never been here before -- it looked like a humble grocery market. Pulling on the door, he and Gonetomon stepped inside as the electric bell signaled his entry.

“Welcome to Buckthorn!” one of the employees called out. Estinien only slightly brought up a hand out of habit in greeting. However, the employee caught sight of Gonetomon and gasped before hurrying her way over. “You're Nomin’s friend that visited her in the hospital! Oh, thank you for that! She was so elated to have a friend come by and keep her company as visiting hours allowed.”

For a moment, Estinien was a bit too flustered to speak, only casting a brief glance in Gonetomon's direction. When he looked at the woman again, he realized he had seen her before -- once. She had been leaving the oncology ward a while back. When he saw Nomin that day, she had some stuff from home brought to her by her…

“You're Nomin’s sister…?” Estinien asked.

“The one and only,” the woman replied with a grin. She then grabbed her name pin, emphasizing it for a moment. “The name's Bayarmaa. But, goodness me, I shouldn't keep you here. Nomin and Teiamon are upstairs with some of their other friends and Digimon.”

With that, Bayarmaa pointed in the direction of a door marked ‘No entry’. Estinien then put two and two together: this building was a joint business front and home.

Bayarmaa leaned in slightly, dropping her voice to a whisper, and bringing the back of her hand to shield a side of her mouth. “You can just walk right in and go. No key necessary or anything. VIP access,” Bayarmaa said, giving a playful wink before straightening up, her voice returning to a normal volume. “I have more things to organize and stock, but try not to have too much fun up there! I need to make sure I can also enjoy my baby sister's release from the hospital, too, y'know!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll have her all to yourself soon, I’m sure,” Estinien said, attempting to keep his tone lighthearted.

With discussion coming to a close, Estinien and Gonetomon both made their way for the door indicated, opening it and then heading up the stairwell. Chatter could already be heard from above, and as Estinien crested the top of the stairs, he saw a living area with a kitchen on the opposite side, a counter to separate the two areas. The sofa in the living area had three people on it, one he recognized, and the other two he did not. On the floor were two other people, as well as a number of other Digimon.

Nomin’s gaze immediately met Estinien’s as he appeared, and her already radiant smile became even more so, that elation making itself evident even within the crinkle of her eyes. At that moment, Estinien felt his heart skip a beat. He had often seen Nomin with a medical mask on, so her smile was not often one he got to see anywhere except reflected in her eyes.

“Sorry for not getting up to greet you, but…it’s really nice to see you, Estinien!” Nomin chirped. All that time in the hospital meant that she still needed physical therapy to combat some of the atrophying that came with being bedridden.

“N-No, it’s fine. I get it. I, uh…” Estinien glanced from Nomin to the others in the room. The overall vibe was joy and relief for having Nomin back; it cast a palpably halcyon atmosphere. “Sorry that it looks like I’m late.”

“I’m just glad you made it!” Nomin replied.

[skelavender]

Mulder’s eyes are locked on Scully. Living, breathing Scully, who is not in a hospital bed. Instead, Modell is the one who lay dying in front of them, head bandaged and tubes pumping oxygen and whatever else into his body.  He reaches for her hand and takes it in his own. She doesn’t grab him back, but allows for the touch. “I say we dont let him take up another minute of our time.” Scully squeezes his hand. “Come on, sweetheart, let's go home.”

read chapter two of shelter on ao3, or below the cut!

February 1996

“Mine or yours?“

Mulder looks up to see Scully lingering by the door with her long jacket folded over her arm, clearly on her way out. 

“Mine,” he answers simply, “I’ll head out soon, I want to finish reading this first. I should be back by the time you get there if you’re stopping at home first. You have your key?”

“Yes. See you soon, Mulder.” She offers a smile, and she’s gone. 

It’s become a habit, staying at each other’s houses. They’re both sleeping much better, and are therefore less likely to take mid-workday naps. 

After Scully had shown up in the middle of the night, Mulder had invested in a bed. Crazy concept. If Scully was going to keep showing up to sleep – which, apparently, she was – he wasn’t going to make her do so on the floor or couch. 

She does beat him to his place, despite stopping by her own apartment to shower first, and when Mulder enters he is greeted by the smell of vanilla — the body scrub Scully uses at the end of a particularly long week. Given the case they’re in the middle of, he thinks it’s warranted. 

Between the disaster of Modell’s arraignment, Holly attacking Skinner, and the deaths of multiple law enforcement officers, things had been stressful to say the least. Mulder was happy to be guaranteed a solid night’s sleep tonight, thanks to Scully’s company. 

He knows Scully needs both the proximity and the rest just as much as he does. When they had been informed that Modell had pulled Mulder’s file, she had immediately been most concerned about him having Mulder’s address. He could basically see the images flashing in her mind, Modell invading his home like Eugene Tooms and Duane Barry had through hers. She wasn’t going to leave him alone right now, and he didn’t exactly cherish the idea either. There was no point in avoiding the apartment, though. If Modell wanted to find them, he would.

Scully’s in the kitchen, pajama-clad and leaning over a steaming pizza. She turns to greet him with a soft smile, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, “If that’s from Caprotti’s, I might have to marry you. Again.”

“You better dig your tux out then.”

Mulder slides his hand onto her lower back when he approaches her, “God, you’re the best.” He lays a kiss on her temple before grabbing a slice. 

They eat over the counter, chatting idly around the real concerns for their safety. Eventually they crawl into bed, Mulder on the right, Scully on the left, as always. They fall asleep with hands clasped in the space between their bodies, holding on for dear life. 

***

Here’s what the gossip mill of the FBI, with all their teasing names and idolization of profiling skills, doesn’t know about Fox Mulder: he’s a fucking klutz. 

Even Scully didn’t notice it until she started spending significant time at either of their homes with him. He takes his contact lenses out as soon as he gets home, but only remembers to put his glasses on to compensate for the fact half the time. The result is many bruises blooming on limbs that have bumped into furniture, door frames, hell, even Scully had acted as an accidental obstacle on more than a couple occasions. 

At the moment, the both of them sitting against the headboard of Scully’s bed as they wind down for bed, Mulder has miraculously managed to get a pair of glasses on his face. However, the pair he’s squinting through while trying to read the book propped against his knees aren’t his own. 

They’re Scully’s.

Her backup pair, that is. The ones from a couple years ago, which are out of style and the prescription is slightly too weak. That means, of course, that they are far too weak for Mulder. Hence the squinting. She doubts that he’s even managing to read any words on the page. Not that Scully's any more focused – she keeps glancing up to the mirror across from her bed to look at Mulder, to take in his relaxed posture, the furrow between his brows, the press of his lips together. 

She doesn’t know how they got so… domesticated, so comfortable in each other’s presence that they can just borrow each other’s stuff with such ease. She loves it. 

Her eyes run down the reflection of Mulder’s neck, his arms, how his fingers are curled around the book. As if he can feel her gaze dance across his skin, he squirms, revealing a patch of skin just below his elbow. A very purple patch of skin.

She turns to him, “Did you bump into the doorframe again?”

“Hm?” Mulder tears his eyes off the book and looks at her through her own glasses.

“Your arm,” She gestures to him, “Did you hit it on the doorframe again?”

“Oh,” he twists his arm and looks down at it. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Let me see.” She places the bookmark on the relevant page and sets it on her nightstand before opening her hand to summon Mulder’s elbow. He offers it, and she inspects the skin. 

“I don’t know how you manage to do this to yourself so often,” Scully murmurs.

“I swear, Scully, they move. We ought to open an X-file on the ever-changing layout of doorways in the DC area.”

She shakes her head with an affectionate smile, and pivots to rustle through her nightstand drawer. She removes a tube of arnica she had started keeping there for this exact reason, and reclaims Mulder’s elbow.

“Scully, it’s fine, really.” He protests, but doesn’t reclaim possession of his elbow.

“Which one of us has a medical degree, Mulder? Let me help.” She squirts an appropriate amount of gel onto her own index and middle fingers, rubs them against her thumb to decrease the sting of the cold, and applies it to Mulder’s arm. She lets her fingers dance in circles across his skin until the stickiness has faded, and she can’t justify the contact any further. 

When her eyes lift to reach his again, he’s already staring at her. “Thanks, Scully.”

“Of course. Anytime.”

“About time for lights-out?”

“That sounds good.”

They both turn off their bedside lamps, and settle into the bed. Within minutes they’ve met in the middle of the bed, and Scully doesn’t bother trying to find an excuse to touch him. 

***

Mulder’s eyes are locked on Scully. Living, breathing Scully, who is not in a hospital bed. Instead, Modell is the one who lay dying in front of them, head bandaged and tubes pumping oxygen and whatever else into his body. 

He reaches for her hand and takes it in his own. She doesn’t grab him back, but allows for the touch.

“I say we dont let him take up another minute of our time.” Scully squeezes his hand. “Come on, sweetheart, let's go home.”

Over the years, they’ve started referring to just about anywhere as home. “Mulder, let’s go home” could mean a motel room, DC, his place, her place, the office, anything. He’s not sure which home she means, but he knows wherever they end up, home will be an apt descriptor. As long as Scully is there. 

Scully all but pulls him out of the hospital room, leading him by the contact of their hands. They walk all the way to the car with their hands linked, and don’t let go until they need to.

Home, as Scully had used it, turns out to be his apartment. Mulder lays awake with his partner in his arms, mind racing. 

He had almost killed her. There was a bullet in the chamber and his finger on the trigger, and he had almost killed Scully. His partner. His wife. 

There would have been no going back from that. 

He thinks it must have been intentional, Modell must have put the bullet in the third chamber knowing he would make Mulder turn it on Scully, shoot her, kill her. He wanted to do as much damage to Mulder as he could on his way out, and knew exactly how to do it. Mulder would never be able to live with that guilt. He would, and did, sooner point the gun at his own head than Scully’s.

Instead, Modell would be the one spending the rest of his life in a hospital bed with a bullet in his head, the one meant for Scully. 

He hadn’t hesitated when Modell told him to turn the gun on himself, but the potential of losing Scully, the potential of being the one responsible for ripping her from this world, had made him strong enough to resist. That, and Scully’s encouragement, her unwavering faith that he would be able to shake Modell’s influence. 

There hadn’t been any doubt, per se, in his mind that he loved her before this whole ordeal. But such a close brush with death, just those few minutes of sharp, intense fear of having to live in a world without her… it was some of the worst pain he’d been in. Some of the worst grief. The same, bone-deep and all-consuming pain that Samantha’s absence had brought. To have such a large, gaping hole inside him, nowhere for the love to land. It’s a very different type of relationship, yes, but the grief tastes the same.

Mulder’s fingers dance across Scully’s hair and he lets the repeated motion, along with her consistent breathing, soothe him. She’s alive. She’s alive, and she’s in his arms. He can see that she’s safe, feel her breath against his shirt, press his palm to her back and let it rise and fall with her. He just can’t get the what-ifs out of his head. 

He shudders, and holds his partner tighter. Unconscious, she does the same. 

***

When Mulder wakes a couple days later, Scully is already awake with her head on his chest, eyes open and staring off into space. His face is buried in her hair, and he presses a kiss there to let her know he’s awake. 

“Hey,” Her voice is floaty, absent. Like she’s thought so hard it’s brought her into another world. 

“Hey.” He lets the silence stretch for a moment. “What’s got you thinking so hard?”

Scully bites her lip, hesitant to tell him about the idea she’s been rolling over in her mind, the one she’s been trying and failing to talk herself out of. “I’m not sure this is… sustainable.”

Mulder tenses under her. He is so, so not ready to have a potential divorce conversation. “You mean our, uh…”

“What?” She lifts up on her elbow to look at him, and reads his face plain and clear. “Oh, no, Mulder, not like that. I mean staying over every night, alternating apartments.”

“Oh, sorry, I’ll, uh, get out of your hair–” He shifts to slip out from under her and get out of bed, but she stops him with a hand to his arm.

“Not like that.” They settle back into their spots, Scully’s head on Mulder’s chest. Her voice is shaky when she confesses, “I sleep better with you closeby, and I think you do too. I want to continue that, I just…” She takes a deep breath and takes the plunge, “What do you think about moving in together?”

“Oh.” Mulder’s a bit floored by that. This conversation was going in the complete opposite of the direction he was expecting. The silence stretches for a moment while he considers it.

“What’re you thinking, Mulder?” 

“Well we could save a lot of money on rent if we moved into a two bedroom.”

“And on phone bills.” Scully reasons. 

“And we could carpool – save on gas.”

“Mhmm,” Scully affirms. They’re both quiet for a moment, mulling it over, before she continues, “So, mine or yours? Or somewhere else?”

“Somewhere else, I think. Something fresh. Are you married to Georgetown?”

“I’m married to you.”

He smiles at that. He’s not looking at her, so he doesn't see the open wound of sincerity in her eyes.

Scully continues, “Alexandria is fine. It’s cheaper. We’re being… pragmatic.”

“Pragmatic… yeah.”

“Reasonable.”

“Mhmm.”

“So,” she lifts her head to look at him again, “Do you want to get the paper to look through the listings, or should I?”

<- previous chapter next chapter ->

[chiccoindia123]

How to Choose the Right Breast Pump: Factors to Consider for Optimal Milk Expression and Comfort

Selecting the right breast pump is an important decision for breastfeeding mothers. Whether you’re returning to work, need to build a supply for your baby, or simply want the flexibility to feed your baby expressed milk, the right breast pump can make all the difference. This guide outlines key factors to consider to help you choose a breast pump that meets your needs.

1. Type of Breast Pump

Breast pumps come in various types, each suited for different needs and preferences. Understanding the differences can help you make an informed choice.

Manual Pumps

Manual breast pumps are a popular option for mothers who occasionally pump. They are typically more affordable and portable, making them ideal for travel or occasional use. However, manual pumps require more effort and may not be as efficient for mothers who need to pump regularly.

Electric Pumps

Electric breast pumps are generally faster and more efficient, making them a better choice for regular pumping. They come in two main types:

Single Electric Pumps: These pumps allow you to express milk from one breast at a time. They are compact and suitable for occasional use.

Double Electric Pumps: These pumps enable you to pump from both breasts simultaneously, significantly reducing pumping time. They are perfect for busy mothers or those looking to establish a robust milk supply.

Hospital-Grade Pumps

Hospital-grade breast pumps are powerful, high-performance pumps designed for mothers who need to pump frequently or have specific health issues, such as low milk supply or premature infants. These pumps are usually available for rent and can be an excellent investment for mothers facing challenges with breastfeeding.

2. Comfort and Fit

Comfort is paramount when choosing a breast pump. An ill-fitting breast shield can lead to discomfort, pain, or even damage to the nipple. Here are some tips to ensure comfort and fit:

Breast Shield Size: Most pumps come with standard-sized breast shields, but many manufacturers offer different sizes. It's essential to measure your nipple size to choose the right shield for your comfort.

Adjustable Settings: Look for pumps with adjustable suction and speed settings. This feature allows you to customize your pumping experience according to your comfort level and needs.

Padding and Material: Some breast shields come with soft padding or are made from silicone, which can enhance comfort during pumping sessions.

3. Portability

For active mothers, portability is a critical factor in choosing a breast pump. If you plan to pump while at work, traveling, or running errands, consider the following:

Weight and Size: A lightweight and compact pump is easier to transport. Look for pumps that come with a carrying case for convenience.

Power Options: Consider whether the pump is battery-operated or requires a power outlet. Battery-operated pumps provide greater flexibility for on-the-go pumping.

Noise Level: If you’re concerned about noise while pumping in public or at work, look for pumps designed to operate quietly.

4. Ease of Cleaning

Keeping your breast pump clean is essential for your baby’s health. When selecting a breast pump, consider the following aspects related to cleaning:

Fewer Parts: Pumps with fewer components are easier to clean. Look for designs that minimize the number of parts that come into contact with milk.

Dishwasher-Safe Components: Some breast pumps come with dishwasher-safe parts, making the cleaning process more convenient.

Sterilization: Consider how easy it is to sterilize the pump. Some pumps can be steam-sterilized, while others may require manual cleaning.

5. Price and Warranty

Breast pumps are available at various price points, so it’s crucial to establish a budget before making a decision. Keep the following in mind:

Budget: Consider how often you’ll use the pump and what features are most important to you. While manual pumps are typically cheaper, investing in a high-quality electric or hospital-grade pump may be worthwhile if you plan to pump frequently.

Warranty: Check the warranty offered by the manufacturer. A good warranty can provide peace of mind, ensuring that you can repair or replace your pump if any issues arise.

Conclusion

Choosing the right breast pump involves understanding your personal needs, preferences, and lifestyle. By considering the type of pump, comfort, portability, ease of cleaning, and price, you can find a breast pump that supports your breastfeeding journey effectively.Investing in a quality breast pump can enhance your breastfeeding experience, providing you with the flexibility and convenience you need as a new mother. To explore a variety of options tailored to your needs, check out our selection of breast pump at Chicco.

[newstfionline]

Wednesday, April 24, 2024

Universities Struggle as Pro-Palestinian Demonstrations Grow (NYT) At New York University, the police swept in to arrest protesting students on Monday night, ending a standoff with the school’s administration. At Yale, the police placed protesters’ wrists into zip ties on Monday morning and escorted them onto campus shuttles to receive summonses for trespassing. Columbia kept its classroom doors closed on Monday, moving lectures online and urging students to stay home. Harvard Yard was shut to the public. Nearby, at campuses like Tufts and Emerson, administrators weighed how to handle encampments that looked much like the one that the police dismantled at Columbia last week—which protesters quickly resurrected. And on the West Coast, a new encampment bubbled at the University of California, Berkeley. Less than a week after the arrests of more than 100 protesters at Columbia, administrators at some of the country’s most influential universities were struggling, and largely failing, to calm campuses torn by the conflict in Gaza and Israel.

Haiti health system nears collapse as medicine dwindles, gangs attack hospitals and ports stay shut (AP) On a recent morning at a hospital in the heart of gang territory in Haiti’s capital, a woman began convulsing before her body went limp as a doctor and two nurses raced to save her. But the Doctors Without Borders hospital in the Cite Soleil slum was running low on key medicine to treat convulsions. “The medication she really needs, we barely have,” said Dr. Rachel Lavigne, a physician with the medical aid group. It’s a familiar scene repeated daily at hospitals and clinics across Port-au-Prince, where life-saving medication and equipment is dwindling or altogether absent as brutal gangs tighten their grip on the capital and beyond. They have blocked roads, forced the closure of the main international airport in early March and paralyzed operations at the country’s largest seaport, where containers filled with key supplies remain stuck. “Everything is crashing,” Lavigne said. Haiti’s health system has long been fragile, but it’s now nearing total collapse.

UK passes law to send asylum seekers to Rwanda (BBC) After months of wrangling, the British Parliament has passed a controversial bill, paving the way for asylum seekers to be sent to Rwanda. It’s a flagship immigration policy for the Conservative government of Rishi Sunak, who said it would make clear “if you come here illegally, you will not be able to stay". About 52,000 asylum seekers could be sent to the East African country. Yvette Cooper, who oversees interior policies for the Labour opposition, called the plan an "extortionately expensive gimmick". And charities describe it as a "breach of international law". In a statement, Mr Sunak said: "We introduced the Rwanda bill to deter vulnerable migrants from making perilous crossings." On Tuesday morning, after the passing of the bill, my colleagues witnessed about 30 migrants boarding a small boat on a beach in northern France. Five other people, including a child, died as they attempted to cross the Channel.

Russian Attacks Crush Factories and Way of Life in Ukrainian Villages (NYT) Its towering smokestacks once puffed out clouds of steam. In gigantic machine rooms, turbines whirled around the clock. Furnaces burned trainloads of coal. In the Soviet era, the Kurakhove Heating and Power Plant gave rise to the town around it in Ukraine’s east, driving the local economy and sustaining the community with wages and heating for homes. “Our plant is the heart of our city,” said Halyna Liubchenko, a retiree whose husband worked his entire career in nearby coal mines that fed the facility. That heart is barely beating now, partly destroyed by artillery. The plant is among the last still operating in Ukraine’s Donbas region, once the country’s center of heavy industry and now a focal point of Russian ground offensives that are ravaging towns and cities along the front line. War in eastern Ukraine has killed tens of thousands of people, reduced cities to ruins and displaced millions of people. It has also all but destroyed the factories and plants that were for years an important driver of Ukraine’s economy.

Modi Calls Muslims ‘Infiltrators’ Who Would Take India’s Wealth (NYT) Prime Minister Narendra Modi on Sunday called Muslims “infiltrators” who would take India’s wealth if his opponents gained power—unusually direct and divisive language from a leader who normally lets others do the dirtiest work of polarizing Hindus against Muslims. Mr. Modi, addressing voters in the state of Rajasthan, aimed his emotional appeal at women, addressing “my mothers and sisters” to say that his Congress opponents would take their gold and give it to Muslims. Implications that Muslims have too many babies, that they are coming for Hindus’ wives and daughters, that their nationality as Indian is itself in doubt are often made by representatives of Mr. Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party, or B.J.P. Mr. Modi’s use of such language himself, as he campaigns for a third term in office, raised alarm that it could inflame right-wing vigilantes who target Muslims.

Asia’s Heat Wave Scorches Hundreds of Millions (NYT) Hundreds of millions of people in South and Southeast Asia were suffering on Monday from a punishing heat wave that has forced schools to close, disrupted agriculture, and raised the risk of heat strokes and other health complications. The weather across the region in April is generally hot, and comes before Asia’s annual summer monsoon, which dumps rain on parched soil. But this April’s temperatures have so far been unusually high. In Bangladesh, where schools and universities are closed this week, temperatures in some areas have soared above 107 degrees Fahrenheit, or 42 degrees Celsius. Those numbers don’t quite capture how extreme humidity makes the heat feel even worse. The heat wave could lead to more cases of certain diseases, including cholera and diarrhea, said Be-Nazir Ahmed, a public health expert in Bangladesh. Mr. Ahmed said that people should ideally try to work earlier in the morning and later at night, when temperatures are lower. But that is easier said than done in a country where many people work outdoors.

Mama’s boys and marital strife are no joke in today’s China (Washington Post) Tales about evil mothers-in-law and marital bust-ups have landed China’s wildly popular ultrashort dramas in trouble with official censors. Beijing is cracking down on the format’s allegedly “inappropriate” plots about marital strife for fear they will hurt the government’s campaign encouraging families to stay together and have more children. Huang Zhongjun, a scholar at Zhejiang Normal University who has studied micro-dramas, says the format has proven harmful to society in part because viewers are fed unrealistic plots that “vilify people and amplify conflicts” within families. Young people, who spend more time with their screens than real people, are becoming “emotionally deficient” and “unwilling to get married or have children,” he added. Censors this month called out mother-in-law dramas for straying from “mainstream values” approved by the Chinese Communist Party. Since China’s population began to shrink in 2022, officials have stepped up controls on “unhealthy” portrayals of love and marriage in popular culture. At the same time, they have dialed up propaganda to encourage young couples to settle down and get busy having children.

Taiwan rattled by more than 200 quakes, but no major damage (Reuters) Taiwan’s quake-hit eastern county of Hualien was rattled by more than 200 aftershocks late on Monday and early on Tuesday, but only minor damage was reported and no casualties and major chipmaker TSMC said it saw no impact on operations. Largely rural and sparsely populated Hualien was hit by a 7.2 magnitude earthquake on April 3 that killed at least 17 people, and there have been more than 1,000 aftershocks since. Buildings across large parts of northern, eastern and western Taiwan, including in the capital, Taipei, swayed throughout the night, with the largest quake measuring a 6.3 magnitude. All were very shallow.

Iran’s Israel strike coincided with crackdown on dissent at home, activists say (Reuters) The same day Iran launched its first ever direct attack on Israel it embarked on a less-noticed confrontation at home, ordering police in several cities to take to the streets to arrest women accused of flouting its strict Islamic dress code. Iranian authorities insist that their so-called Nour (Light) campaign targets businesses and individuals who defy the hijab law, aiming to respond to demands from devout citizens who are angry about the growing number of unveiled women in public. But activists and some politicians say the campaign appears aimed not only at enforcing mandatory hijab-wearing, but also at discouraging any wider dissent at a vulnerable moment for the clerical rulers. Under Iran’s sharia, or Islamic law, women are obliged to cover their hair and wear long, loose-fitting clothes. Offenders face public rebuke, fines or arrest. The laws have become a political flashpoint since protests over the death of a young woman in the custody of the country’s “morality police” in 2022 spiralled into the worst political turmoil since the 1979 Islamic Revolution.

Israelis Prepare to Mark Passover, a Festival of Freedom, With Hostages Still in Gaza (NYT) Many Israelis were in a somber mood on Monday as they prepared to usher in Passover, the Jewish festival of freedom, saying they would mark the holiday rather than celebrate it, with more than 130 hostages remaining in Gaza. The number of hostages believed to be alive is unclear, and with negotiations with Hamas captors at an impasse, there is little prospect of their imminent release. The holiday is to start after sundown on Monday with the traditional Seder meal. By tradition, this is a joyful gathering of family and friends who follow a ritual order of blessings over symbolic foods as they retell the biblical story of the bondage and suffering of the ancient Israelites in Egypt and their exodus and liberation.

Report says Israel has not provided evidence of widespread militancy among UNRWA staff (Washington Post) Israel has not provided evidence that significant numbers of workers with the U.N. agency for Palestinian refugees are tied to militant groups, but the agency must implement more robust vetting of staff members to ensure neutrality and work to reestablish trust with donors, a highly anticipated report said Monday. Former French foreign minister Catherine Colonna, who led the group, called the agency “indispensable and irreplaceable” in a news conference Monday. “As we speak, at this critical time, UNRWA has a vital role in the humanitarian response in Gaza,” she added. The findings released Monday will largely come as a relief to the embattled agency—pitched into an existential crisis in January after Israel alleged that a dozen of its 13,000 employees in Gaza participated in the Oct. 7 Hamas-led attacks and that more than 10 percent had ties to militant groups. Sixteen major donors, including the United States, promptly suspended funding worth about $450 million, nearly half of UNRWA’s budget for the year.

74 is the new 71 (Yahoo) New research suggests that 74 is the new 71. Our perception of when “old age” begins is shifting, with most people believing this phase of life begins later than they used to, according to a new study published in the journal Psychology and Aging. While the study didn’t look at why this shift has occurred, experts say it makes sense—and is probably a good thing; humans on average are living longer than ever, and examples of people living full lives well beyond retirement age abound. Experts on aging—some of whom are in their 70s and 80s themselves—aren’t surprised, and say it’s part of a promising shift away from negative stereotypes about what getting older means. “Now, in most people’s daily lives, they know somebody who is 100,” Ellen Langer, a professor of psychology at Harvard University who researches mindset and aging, tells Yahoo Life. In the past, “you didn’t know anybody who lived to 100.”

[spacenutspod]

I have lost count of how many times I have given public lectures and explained the temperature differences between Mercury and Venus. How Mercury, surprisingly isn’t the hottest planet in the Solar System and how that badge goes to Venus, thick atmosphere blah blah blah.  Mercury and its complex surface geology does of course get a good chunk of time but a recent paper has rather caught my attention and turned what I thought I knew about Mercury on its head! In short, a team of scientists have announced evidence for salt glaciers on Mercury! Planetary Science Institute (PSI) scientists; Deborah Domingue, Bryan Travis, Jeffrey S Kargel, Oleg Abramov, John Weirich, Nicholas Castle and Frank Chuang are the co-authors of a paper that made the announcement. Their discovery of Mercurian glaciers (which are made of salt rather than the glaciers composed of water ice we are familiar with on Earth) are believed to have formed under the crust in Volatile Rich Layers (VRLs). The glaciers are then exposed by asteroid impacts. Salt glaciers are a rare phenomenon on Earth but have been seen in areas like the Zagros Mountains in Iran. The irregular dark patches are the salt glaciers. Satellite image of the Zagros Mountains in Iran (Credit : U.S. Department of the Interior, U.S. Geological Survey) The team went on to suggest formation processes for these salt glaciers and the chaotic terrain that Mercury is well known for and at mechanisms that can explain the VRL formation? They studied the Borealis Chaos region near Mercury’s north pole, a region rich in chaotic terrain. Asteroid impacts have to all intents almost wiped out the craters in this region, many dating back to the early days of the formation of the planet. Underneath this layer lies ancient cratering that was discovered through analysis of localised gravitational fields.   The placement of the two layers suggest perhaps that the VRLs may have in some way developed on top of an already solid terrain.  The chaotic terrain at the antipode of the Caloris Basin on Mercury (Credit : NASA) Previous theories suggest the different layers formed through mantle differentiation where minerals separate out into layers but now a new theory is emerging. It seems the evidence points to some sort of global event, perhaps even from the collapse of Mercury’s fleeting hot atmosphere shortly after the formation of the planet.  An alternative theory suggests that escaping volcanic gas may temporarily create pools of water or dense, highly salty steam which could have deposited salt. Significant amounts of the water would have swiftly been lost into space while some could have been trapped in minerals leaving behind a clay and salt rich layer.  The discovery of the glaciers on Mercury is in itself fascinating yet what has really captured my imagination is the impact this has on the potential for areas of habitability on Mercury – or any other planet for that matter. On Earth, the existence of certain salt compounds in what would otherwise be inhospitable locations has given life a foot hold. We often talk of the Goldilock Zones around stars, the distance at which liquid water can exist and therefore has the potential for life.  Yet the discovery of subsurface volatiles (which would ordinarily have evaporated out into space) suggests perhaps depth is also a key criteria for a hospitable environment. The surface of Mercury seems inhospitable to life but perhaps, life may get a foot hold underground.  Okay this may seem far fetched but it does add an interesting dimension to the debate around a planets suitability for life.  Source : Unveiling Mercury’s Geological Mysteries: Salt Glaciers, Primordial Atmosphere, and the New Frontiers of Astrobiology The post There Were Glaciers… on Mercury? appeared first on Universe Today.

[tradewithraj]

Marketmind: War and PCE

A look at the day ahead in U.S. and global markets from Mike Dolan With world headlines focussed on first anniversary of Russia's invasion of Ukraine, the inflationary consequences that pounded world markets last year still smoulder. Curiously, the initial energy shock from the Ukraine war is already less of a problem than the change in pricing behaviour that it seeded - especially in services still distorted by the pandemic, in corporate margin building and rising wage settlements. Due to powerful base effects comparing today's price with the surge after the invasion, crude oil prices are now falling at an annual rate of 16%. And thanks to Europe's mild winter, brimming storage and gas substitution, yearend natural gas prices are back to where they were 11 months ago - down more than 31% so far in 2023. But it's the pickup and stickiness in underlying "core" prices, excluding energy and food, that is irking the central banks and the Federal Reserve most of all. And if the world economy is gathering some steam again in 2023, as recent numbers suggest, interest rate policy may have to be a lot harsher than everyone has assumed. Alongside another tight U.S. weekly jobs report, markets got another glimpse of those price pressures on Thursday. The Commerce Department showed inflation increased much faster than initially estimated in the fourth quarter of last year, with the core personal consumption expenditures (PCE) measure that the Fed favours accelerating at a 4.3% pace compared with prior estimate of 3.9%. The revisions to prices were led by used and new motor vehicles and fees for nonprofit hospital services. Friday gets a more updated monthly view of core PCE from January and it's not yet clear if quarterly revisions affect the standing consensus forecast for an easing of the rate to 4.3% from 4.4% in December - still more than twice the Fed's target. Markets are now braced for three more quarter-point rate hikes from the Fed to at least 5.25%-5.50%, with no cut fully priced from there by yearend. At 4.71% on Friday, two-year Treasury yields are close to cycle highs. Although cheered on Thursday by chip designer Nvidia (NASDAQ:NVDA)'s blowout earnings and upbeat outlook, S&P500 stock futures are back in the red - barely clinging to the pivotal 4,000 point level. And increasingly buoyed by the still intense geopolitical fallout from a year of the war in Ukraine, the dollar pushed higher yet again. Whether China now backs Moscow militarily as well as rhetorically is seen as one of the biggest global questions surrounding the war 12 months on and would mark critical juncture in Western relations with Beijing too - and in trade globalisation more generally. China's offshore yuan fell to its lowest level of the year against the dollar on Friday. The dollar also rose against Japan's yen on Friday, with the Nikkei's 1% gain bucking the dour weekend mood elsewhere, after comments by the incoming Bank of Japan chief. Even though data showed Japan's core consumer inflation hitting a fresh 41-year high in January, Kazuo Ueda insisted the BOJ must maintain ultra-low interest rates to support the fragile economy, warning of the dangers of responding to cost-driven inflation with monetary tightening. Key developments that may provide direction to U.S. markets later on Friday: * U.S. January personal income and spending, PCE inflation indices, January new home sales; Kansas City Fed February service sector survey * Cleveland Federal Reserve President Loretta Mester, Fed Board Governor Philip Jefferson, Boston Fed chief Susan Collins speak. Bank of England policymaker Silvana Tenreyro speaks * Japan's Prime Minister Fumio Kishida chairs G7 leaders meeting. Finance ministers of G20 countries and their central bank chiefs to meet near Bengaluru * U.S. Treasury sells -year notes * U.S. corp earnings: Evergy (NASDAQ:EVRG)

[vuulpecula]

John John was saying something else, it was probably somewhat important, but she couldn’t focus on what he was saying any more. Her lids were heavy, and her mind whispered sweetly how nice it would be if she just let them close. When they opened again, the call was disconnected. Fox didn’t know how long she had slept or if she truly had at all, but she knew she needed to go back to Richards’ room as soon as possible. Her nurse wasn’t as convinced this time and insisted on a wheelchair—and pushing her to the room herself. She would wait outside until the detective was finished and then she would wheel her back, that was the deal.

Mark was not in his bed as she had thought he would be, and her heart jumped to her throat for a moment. Had he escaped? She turned her head, ready to spit venom at the two who had allegedly been watching them only to see one point in the direction of the bathroom. The door was ajar, steam curling slightly through the crack. Cautiously, a stolen scalpel placed under her thigh because even here, in this place that was meant to be safe, she didn’t feel it.

Inside the room, the nurse continued to wash Mark. Gently moving soap suds over his skin. Skin that she pressed her lips to, just against his shoulder. Whispering that she would help him with anything that he wanted. Including getting rid of the cops that were investigating him. She promised him that she could take care of him, that he wouldn’t need to go looking for anyone else, she could be his everything. As long as he didn’t take her life, she would let him do whatever he wanted. She was pressing another kiss to his spine, pressing her hips against his cuffed hands as if trying to get him to touch her back where she grew excited at the thought of him taking her. Hands weaving around him, dragging the sponge ever lower when she was interrupted.

“What do you think you’re doing,” Fox’s tone was low, but the words that came from her mouth were sharp. Mark was cuffed and this nurse was…what was that she had been whispering? She chewed on the nurse’s reply of ‘my job,’ gaze narrowed. Her nostrils flared as she called for the officers, demanding the nurse be removed immediately and not let back into the room. Then she snapped, standing from the chair, to be handed the key to his cuffs. Exposing the scalpel she had stolen to Mark should he look. “Even in prison they give you the decency to bathe yourself,” she growled. “Stay outside the door,” she continued before they could protest. “I need to question him and if you say a single word insinuating, I am incapable of doing my job, I’ll make sure you wish you never had this hospital detail. Am I understood?” The officers exchanged a glance and nodded. Even frail in her hospital gown and robe, she had put a seed of fear in their chests.

Turning, Fox shut the door, setting her hand on the back of her chair a moment. Standing straight, seething, it had taken a lot of energy and she crumpled slightly now that they were unable to see. Tired as she looked to the naked man still standing cuffed beneath the water. Looking not at his body, only his face. “I’ll uncuff you to wash, but I need your word that you will behave. Otherwise, I’ll have to bring either Larry or Moe in here to help. I have some more questions I need to ask you.”

@rickgrimesdoingrickthings

He gave the nurse a cold, annoyed stare- at some point he just quit trying to shoo her away. Richards had already pulled his hand away from her, but the cuffs limited him. So much. The man let out a snarl, frowning, looking away. “I have no idea of what you’re talking about.” His lips pronounced, annoyed indifference. “Well you got me cuffed. Fuck you.” He muttered, trying to turn to the side, away from her, that movement also so limited due to the handcuffs keeping his wrists tied to the metal of the bed. Yeah…he didn’t tell the cop to leave…she wanted to talk, they had to talk, sooner or later, they would have to- no point in postponing the stress. As for how he felt…even though he didn’t answer the nurse, his body showed it- he felt a pleasant shiver run over his surface- he wasn’t craving it- his sinful addiction- he was satisfied- he had gotten one of the brothers. But the other…. Oh she asked about it. Yes. He felt frustrated that he had escaped. But he would find him. If not him, another- to satisfy his thirst; the sensation of frustration…it was almost neutral, almost absent- his emotions, he wouldn’t keep munching them for too long- he would feel it and then push it into a hole- suppressing intrusive thoughts and sentiment like a professional. He was acting like he was innocent- almost making himself believe it- so his performance was congruent- Mark was too tired to act though, his coldness was too tiring to cover- he didn’t want to fake smiles…he hated- people did it all the time….and he absolutely hated how everyone faked basically everything. The would had always been such a confusing place to him because of that- why would people fake emotions, to others and to themselves when it was much easier to just…say shit as they were? And then again, she was so close, she was leaning over him, sniffing him, touching his hair- To be honest, it didn’t feel that bad- Her words, he had listened to them before- she said she wouldn’t hurt him…she said he could just appreciate- part of him had been craving for affection for so long, in secret- he felt tempted to just…let go of that useless resistance. “Help me finish what?” Finish finding the guy? Or help him get rid of that blood and dirt? It was unclear to him what she meant, so he just acted dumb. “A shower would be nice…specially if they have warm water here.” He said, emotionless. The nurse smiled, clapping her hands together a few times, she went to talk to the cops by the door outside the room, and soon they came, one armed, gun pointed at Mark. The other undid the cuffs, then moved his arms behind his back, cuffing his wrists together now. “My arms in front of me would make it more practical.” He hissed. The cops just raised their eyebrows and shook their heads. 'We’re not crazy man.’ The nurse was smiling, so excited- the cops shrugged, exchanging looks. She was. 'You sure you want to do this alone?’ One of the cops asked as he held Mark by the arm and made him sit and then stand. The nurse kept smiling. 'It’s all good, I’ll shout if anything.’

The two cops stepped back, one of them letting go. 'Alright then, we will be by the door, we will keep it open. Call us if he tries anything.’ One of the cops was more serious, but the other, he stared Mark from head to toe- he was…handsome. And annoyed, little snarls he was trying to suppress, all the time in his features. The nurse wanted to giggle- oh she would tease so much. The corridor to the bathroom, which was large in case the patient needed a wheelchair, made the area quite reserved. 'Yes we have hot water. This shower is better than the one I have at home, I shower here sometimes even when where’s a vacant room nearby.’ She rested a palm on his back, guiding him to the bathroom, gently removing the bandages so his wounds could be cleaned, then turning on the water. 'See? Warm warm as promised. Did I promise? Did I say or just think? Ah anyway.’ She was eating him with her eyes- a feast. His eyes tried to remain indifferent, kept looking to the void, aiming at the wall behind her. She opened a pack and got a clean sponge, then took a smaller shower head and started to wash his back, removing the dirt. 'They actually pushed you off the building? If you weren’t so thin I think you would be even more fucked up…you’re all bruised. Poor you…what did they do to my hero…’ Richards kept quiet, just trying to enjoy the warm water over his head and skin, and the pleasant brushes on his back. 'Did you see how that cop was staring your dick? Pfft I think he likes.’ She giggled, washing his nape, adding shampoo to his head, scratching his head. 'Since when someone looked after you? You deserve all the care…you know, it’s not because someone is evil that they don’t deserve love.’ He remained quiet, letting the feelings that arose die as soon as he acknowledged them. It felt so good. That warmth and her care. It did. His eyes almost closed a little bit, relaxed. She caressed her face, briefly, and she moved his head a little to have more access to his hair- he wasn’t looking at her, but all she could look at was him.

@vuulpecula

[kitchentrust]

Two point hospital steam key

Two point hospital steam key how to#

Two point hospital steam key download#

That’s right, voter research has repeatedly suggested that the environment is the No. She’s got morals, integrity and, above all else, a cloying desperation to stay in office. Tabitha Windsock, Two Point County’s every-present mayor, has put rivers and forests back on the map with her sudden concern for ‘green-issues’.

Two point hospital steam key how to#

You will find general information about cookies and details on how to delete cookies from your device.Buy Two Point Hospital: Off the Grid as a Steam key at įrom Hogsport to Blighton, from Flemington to Smogley, from here to remote corners of the Wanderoff County Park, everyone is talking about Mother Nature. Alternatively, you can visit which contains comprehensive information on how to do this on a wide variety of browsers and devices. If you want to restrict or block the cookies that are set by our website, you can do so through your browser setting. For example, we will recognize your username and remember how you customized the site during future visits. Functionality cookiesįunctionality cookies let us operate the site in accordance with the choices you make. For example, these cookies let us recognize that you have created an account and have logged into that account. Necessary cookies allow us to offer you the best possible experience when accessing and navigating through our website and using its features. What types of cookies do we use? Necessary cookies It will contain some anonymous information such as a unique identifier, website’s domain name, and some digits and numbers. Each cookie is unique to your web browser. What are cookies?Ĭookies are simple text files that are stored on your computer or mobile device by a website’s server. By visiting plati.market you agree that plati.market may use cookies to be processed by Google Analytics and Yandex.Metrika. Please read this cookie policy carefully before using plati.market operated by us.

Two point hospital steam key download#

After that, the game will be displayed in the list and you can download it Go to the "Games" section and select "Activate via Steam" Once the disease is defeated, research more effective treatments and develop new devices so that the health machine does not stop for a second. Place functional and decorative furnishings that relieve boredom and lift patients´ spirits - and hospital prestige for rewards.ĭo you think the inhabitants of Two Summits will reach out to you with a runny nose and flu? Oh no! You will be faced with the most bizarre ailments - from malignant enlightenment to cubism - each of which requires a special apparatus to treat.ĭiagnose diseases, equip offices with everything you need for proper therapy, hire qualified employees - and get ready for an influx of patients, because the disease does not come alone! How long will you look at the bright side of life if the patients have solid grayness? Expand, build new buildings to accommodate as many patients as possible. Optimize hospital design by placing corridors, rooms and waiting areas to increase patient (and funds) flow. You buy the official game key Two Point Hospital from SEGAĪctivation region: Ukraine and CIS (activation is not possible in Russia and Belarus)īuild a hospital from scratch and make it the most attractive - and most efficient - in the entire Twin Summits. ALL KEYS LIFETIME WARRANTY AFTER ACTIVATION 2.YOU WILL RECEIVE THE KEY INSTANTLY AFTER PAYMENT, WITHOUT WAITINGģ.

[tonkirecords]

Two point hospital steam key

#Two point hospital steam key how to

#Two point hospital steam key download

Place decorative and functional items around your hospital to improve its prestige, lower patient boredom, increase happiness and keep those end of year awards flowing in.ĭon’t expect Two Point County to be populated with your usual types of patients. Expand your hospital to multiple buildings as you look to get as many patients through the door as possible. Optimise your hospital design to increase patient (and cash) flow, arranging corridors, rooms and waiting areas to your exact specifications.

#Two point hospital steam key how to

You will find general information about cookies and details on how to delete cookies from your device.Build up a hospital from nothing to a masterpiece as you design the most beautiful – or functional – healthcare operation in the whole of Two Point County. Alternatively, you can visit which contains comprehensive information on how to do this on a wide variety of browsers and devices. If you want to restrict or block the cookies that are set by our website, you can do so through your browser setting. For example, we will recognize your username and remember how you customized the site during future visits. Functionality cookiesįunctionality cookies let us operate the site in accordance with the choices you make. For example, these cookies let us recognize that you have created an account and have logged into that account. Necessary cookies allow us to offer you the best possible experience when accessing and navigating through our website and using its features. What types of cookies do we use? Necessary cookies It will contain some anonymous information such as a unique identifier, website’s domain name, and some digits and numbers. Each cookie is unique to your web browser. What are cookies?Ĭookies are simple text files that are stored on your computer or mobile device by a website’s server. By visiting you agree that may use cookies to be processed by Google Analytics and Yandex.Metrika. Please read this cookie policy carefully before using operated by us.

#Two point hospital steam key download

After that, the game will be displayed in the list and you can download it Go to the "Games" section and select "Activate via Steam" Once the disease is defeated, research more effective treatments and develop new devices so that the health machine does not stop for a second. Place functional and decorative furnishings that relieve boredom and lift patients´ spirits - and hospital prestige for rewards.ĭo you think the inhabitants of Two Summits will reach out to you with a runny nose and flu? Oh no! You will be faced with the most bizarre ailments - from malignant enlightenment to cubism - each of which requires a special apparatus to treat.ĭiagnose diseases, equip offices with everything you need for proper therapy, hire qualified employees - and get ready for an influx of patients, because the disease does not come alone! How long will you look at the bright side of life if the patients have solid grayness? Expand, build new buildings to accommodate as many patients as possible. Optimize hospital design by placing corridors, rooms and waiting areas to increase patient (and funds) flow. You buy the official game key Two Point Hospital from SEGAĪctivation region: Ukraine and CIS (activation is not possible in Russia and Belarus)īuild a hospital from scratch and make it the most attractive - and most efficient - in the entire Twin Summits. ALL KEYS LIFETIME WARRANTY AFTER ACTIVATION 2.YOU WILL RECEIVE THE KEY INSTANTLY AFTER PAYMENT, WITHOUT WAITINGģ.

[clecdgratuite]

Two Point Hospital Clé CD gratuite (Steam)

[kingsteamkeys]

Free Two Point Hospital Steam Key, CD Key and code (2022)

[just-an-alligator]

BNHA - Villain!Mic AU: How to Date a Cryptid

Put Your Hands Up!

After their first meeting on the rooftop Mic gets a little bit obsessed with the terrifying shadow man with red eyes (particularly since the newbie hero (her name is GlitterBomb) was high key terrified of him). At first he thinks oh, fellow villain.

But that is a no go because the next time he sees the guy (actually sees him and not the sleep deprived shadow man) he’s tossing a group of thieves at the police and lecturing them about doing something more constructive with their lives. And they are not at all thrilled to hear it. But he’s weirdly kind about the whole thing and Mic is even more intrigued because this random nobody hero (?) actually seems to care about where the villains end up.

And Mic, in his super obvious disguise (which is like a leather trench coat that's been bedazzled to hell and back) is peeking out around the corner is like, 'okay cool the red-eyed-cryptid is a hero, I guess? Also what the hell kind of name is Eraser?'

He notes that the police are very obviously averting their gazes and saying things like:

‘Yes, these villains tied themselves up and turned themselves over to the police. No, there was no hero intervention at all.’ And Eraser just salutes and casually slingshots himself up onto the power lines.

And proceeds to run along them like a demented cat... 'cute!'

This all just tickles Mic's hyper fixation more because ‘what kind of hero doesn’t like publicity?

....This one, this one hates the media:

Regardless, Mic is low key touched that this random cryptid that haunts the rooftops is telling two bit criminals to do something better with their lives rather than calling them worthless wastes of space and condemning them to a lifetime in Tartarus. The natural showman in Mic is very interested by the man that’s so underground he completely rejects any and all credit for his capture. How does he get paid? Does he get paid? Does his weird cryptid hero need a sugar daddy perchance?

So he decides to investigate more.

Only the next time he runs into Eraser at night he’s watching one of those limelight heroes do his damn best to beat the tar out of him and Mic watches as the object of his fun new obsession is literally thrown into the trash by some asshole hero.

He’s cute and snarky about it which shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. And the asshole lime lighter gets two steps closer and threatens to arrest him and Mic decides nope~

And makes his displeasure known with a targeted siren head screeching that literally makes the hero piss himself and flee.

And Aizawa just looks at him with a clear WTF expression.

‘That was a hero you know,’ Eraser says flatly, not even bothering to get up out of the trash heap.

Mic shrugs, his shoulders knocking up against the directional speaker with a low thunk. ‘So, I’m the bad guy, remember.’

He watches as Eraser squints up at him. Mic would say you can almost see the steam coming out of his ears with how hard his brain is working. It’s probably the concussion. He obviously has a concussion. Is this one of those ‘go to the hospital’ things? Should he pick Eraser up and take him home with him? That would be the neighbourly, good citizen thing to do, right?

Suddenly, Eraser clicks his tongue irritably and points somewhere slightly to Mic's left.

‘You’re that loud asshole who scared the glitter kid and ruined the only chance at a solid eight hours I've had in a month.’

Mic does not know how to respond to that other than, ‘and your the beautiful monster that has been haunting my night terrors like a sleep paralysis demon. Do you want to get some coffee?’

And proceeds to tie up the heavily concussed Eraserhead and take him on an impromptu kidnapping/date at a unassuming coffee shop (which he may or may not have broken into).

Poor Aizawa, who has never been on a date in his life can't really see straight, has no clue what' going on. The only thing he's thinking is, 'oh god, I have to be at work in three hours.' But he can't really get a word in edgewise what with the world spinning around him and Mic monologuing his TRAGIC BACKSTORY at him.

And that is how Present Mic got his first date with the cryptid vigilante who freaked him out so much he yeeted himself off a roof.

He's very pleased with the outcome all things considered.

Even when Eraser Sparta Kicks him into a duck pond the next time they meet and he almost drowns.

[my-johnlockficrecs]

bet you thought you wouldn’t see more of these lists huh. man. this one has been sitting in my drafts for SO long now, mostly complete except for this little chatty bit. those of you who’ve been around for a while probably know i’m a champion procrastinator but this one really takes the cake 🤡 june felt very much like a nothing-month because nothing really happened. it was just very monotonous. and also hot. hope y’all’s june was fun though! and that it wasn’t too unbearably hot, wherever you live. july is basically over now, and wow this was. one hell of a month. and i think that threw me off a bit! after a whole month of nothing, suddenly EVERYTHING happened, and just kept happening, and it was all a bit much. not in a totally bad way, but definitely overwhelming. anyway, i shall cease the rambling now 😮‍💨 on to the main event!

key: blue: reread • 🏳️‍🌈 pride month theme • 💌 valentine’s day • 🐺 A/B/O • 🔎 victorian era fic

spotlight rec

✰ Totus Mundus Agit Histrionem by mistyzeo (42k, E) 🔎

The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime.

January, 1881: a despondent army doctor is offered a ticket to a Shakespeare play, and is instantly captivated by the fellow playing the Danish prince himself. Then there is a murder. Then they fall in love.

i was hooked to this fic from the very first meeting of john and sherlock. a john pov that is so so good, it’s adorable to read how mesmerising and irresistible john finds sherlock. the flirting and wooing is so subtle and delicately done, even though it’s because they have to avoid drawing attention to their sexualities, there is an undeniable and inherent romanticism and sensuality to it. the whole fic is so sensual to me, with an unhurried pace that tells me the author has superb control over the fic. also a lovely sapphic couple in there too! (hint: one half of the couple is irene 😉) i absolutely love the interactions between the two couples, when john and sherlock can finally be comfortable and be themselves around at least two of their friends 🥹 and, of course, there is a murder. the balance between case and romance is perfect in my view, not too much and not too little of either. the two end up blending into one another, which is exactly as it should be.

bite sized (5k and less)

Do You Want to Know a Secret? by @chriscalledmesweetie (59, G) 🏳️‍🌈

John has a secret. Does Greg want to know?

The Hike-n-Talk Fall by @chriscalledmesweetie (529, G) 🏳️‍🌈

Sherlock is falling for John. Quite literally.

Paint Your Palette Lavender by @chriscalledmesweetie (80, G) 🏳️‍🌈

Sherlock has an epiphany.

Giving Us Lift by @chriscalledmesweetie (485, G) 🏳️‍🌈

How will John entertain Rosie while Sherlock is out on a case?

Interval by berlynn_wohl (3k, E) 🐺

"You shouldn't leave the window open in your state. It's dangerous.”

Antiseptic by @gaylilsherlock (3k, G)

What did John hear on that secret tape from Culverton’s hospital?

Both Sides Now by @totallysilvergirl (12k, M)

Sherlock, undercover on the Norfolk coast, texts that he needs help; John is still seething after Sherlock’s gambit in the train car, and he refuses. When Sherlock goes missing, Mycroft sends John in to pose as Sherlock’s bit on the side.

For Rent by Sexxica (4k, E)

John needs to let off some steam. What better way to do it than by hiring the prettiest rentboy on the block?

En Pointe by standbygo (3k, E)

Sherlock tries pointe shoes. John approves.

Random Numbers by songlin (1k, teen)

Just because they're not having sex doesn't mean they aren't intimate.

A collection of moments in the relationship of asexual!Sherlock and straight!John.

All That I Have by the_arc5 (3k, M)

In the aftermath of the Great Game, Sherlock finds himself with a new weakness. John is both the cause and the cure.

Neriine by Accident, holmesian_love (4k, teen)

Sherlock couldn’t resist. It wasn’t his fault. He had been walking by an alley and it called to him. So he put it in his coat pocket and took it home. He didn’t know how John would react. They had only been together two months now and he didn’t want to ruin things so early on, but he just couldn’t say no. He kept his hand in his pocket, holding his prize.

Il Est Revenu, Mon Amour by @gaylilsherlock (2k, G)

Can things that were once broken be put back together?

Happy Anniversary by Salamboo6 (3k, E)

John inhaled deeply, feeling his cock pulse under the silk gown, and he let his eyes travel on the lean body in front of him.

Sherlock was kneeling on the bed, their bed, and the picture had been taken so John could perfectly see his bare chest and pelvis. But what mattered most, what made John harden rather quickly, was the pair of panties Sherlock was wearing in the picture. Black, string over each hip and laces that outlined Sherlock’s erect cock barely hidden under the soft underwear.

Lingerie by Sexxica (4k, E) 💌

It's Valentines Day and Sherlock is taking John to Angelo's for dinner. Sherlock also happens to be wearing a garter belt, stockings and a rather small pair of women's underwear under his clothes. There's no dessert at Angelo's because John needs to get Sherlock home just as quickly as he can before they both lose their minds entirely.

Cypher by roane (2k, M)

When Sherlock fails to solve a case in time, John will need to be there to pick up the pieces.

Incendiary Hearts by @gaylilsherlock (1k, E)

What really happened in a corner of an abandoned tunnel in the London Underground?

Sherlock Holmes, the Artist by @gaylilsherlock (1k, G)

What if Sherlock had come back home to John before he’d ever even moved out of 221B?

Tell Me Your Secret by @gaylilsherlock (4k,E)

“You can use your soldier voice.”

Still, With Hearts Beating by @finamour (2k, E)

John already knows the sound of Sherlock’s heartbeat. He’s become familiar with his breathing patterns, the way they grow quicker and more shallow as the two of them run through the streets of London. He has, in a passing manner, come to know Sherlock’s scent; the colour of his skin in the dim light of the alleyway; the way his hair grows matted and sweaty against the nape of his neck on a warm July night.

But he has never been pressed up against Sherlock like this, the rise and fall of his breath pushing into his own body through their thin summer clothes. Until now, he has never been fully immersed in his scent, felt his hair softly brushing his face, the thrumming of Sherlock’s heart against his own chest.

fortune favours by @simplyclockwork (5k, M)

On military leave, John Watson discovers that his sister has signed him up for a blind date book event. The set-up is simple: one person brings a book and ends up on a blind date with whoever chooses their contribution.

To say that John is reluctant to attend is an understatement. Luckily, sparks fly between him and a stunning new author when he makes an unorthodox selection from the book choices.

short fics (5k-15k)

Stronger Than This by Laiquilasse (8k, E) 🐺

Sherlock is convinced John is stronger than his Alpha instincts, and he stronger than his Omega. So when Sherlock goes into heat, this is the first time John remains at Baker Street with him.

Heart Like Glass by Laiquilasse (15k, E) 🐺

It's the day after Sherlock's heat has ended, and a trip to the pharmacy brings out emotional baggage for both Sherlock and John. Sherlock struggles with the physical after-effects, and John with affarirs of the heart. As John takes care of the only omega in his life, he has to question how long they can keep this up, and whether there are some things better left unsaid, and if a life without bonding is truly possible for them.

Reignite by augustbird (9k, teen)

When Mary dies, John finds himself in financial trouble without a home for himself and his young son. There's not much choice except to turn to his ex, Sherlock Holmes.

Two Facts by SailorChibi (6k, G) 🐺

When Sherlock and John first mated they decided that they didn't want children. But now Sherlock's pregnant and it's threatening to tear his world apart. He knows John will leave him once he finds out, but how can he decide between his alpha and the child he didn't know he wanted?

A Fortuitous Oversight by scribblesinthebyline (14k, E) 🐺

Sherlock Holmes was perfectly content being a single parent until a scent on the wind caught his attention.

Casualty by @totallysilvergirl (12k, E)

Sherlock renders assistance at a hit-and-run and is left deeply shocked. When the accident turns into a case, John moves back in to 221b to help—and finds that Sherlock has way oversold his image as an emotionless thinking machine

The Important Bit by Solshine (9k, G)

Just where exactly is the line between “to love” and “to be in love”? What difference is required between “flatmate” and “husband”? (Besides the rings, obviously.) No, the important bit is that they have each other. Thirty years, give or take, in an atypical marriage. Basically a long bit of platonic domestic fluff.

The Losing Side by EchoSilverWolf, englandwouldfalljohn (10k, teen)

Sherlock was the only person whose loss had ever brought Captain John Watson to his knees.

I Need You to See Me by Mssmithlove (12k, E)

After going back to war, John is yet again invalided home, this time with a broken ankle and a chunk of his memory missing, unable to recall the last five years he's spent being Sherlock Holmes' partner and husband.

Strong at the Broken Places by @blueink3 (10k, M)

They dated for ten months during Sherlock's first year of uni and John's last before the latter went off to fight someone else's war.

When they meet again two-and-a-half years later, John's gained a scar in his shoulder and a limp he can't seem to shake.

Sherlock's gained a new boyfriend and bruises he can't seem to explain away.

The Adventure of the Apocalypse by CopperBeech (12k, teen)

John's anger at Sherlock over Mary's death meant a long break in their friendship, and it’s only precariously patched up. But now he's back in the sitting room of Baker Street, listening to a plump little bookseller and his dire-looking companion explain why they need Sherlock to help them find a certain boy before the impending End Of The World.

Rains of fish, violin playing, fast driving in a Ford Fiesta, and Sherlock and John working out what they mean to each other in the shadow of Armageddon.

Locked Room Mysteries (or, what really goes on at 221B) by @gaylilsherlock (12k, G)

What do the dashing detective and his beloved blogger get up to when the case is finished? More than you’d think.

All the Flavours, Cherry and More by cwb (6k, E)

“Mm, what is that? You taste good.”

“Cherry lip gloss.”

“Fabulous. What other secrets do you have for me, then?”

Sherlock feels a blush rising to touch his cheeks, more sensual than uncomfortable now that he knows John isn't disgusted by him. No, John is responding exactly the way he had hoped.

By the Bi by emilycare (7k, teen)

It's been a year of living together. Sherlock and John are getting more comfortable with one another. A bit. John's out of sorts tonight though.

Irene Adler insisted to John that he and Sherlock are in a relationship. This has John rethinking his understanding of himself. And Sherlock...well, is Sherlock. But in the face of some movie night cuddling, key information--finally--is shared.

Cracking the Code by CaitlinFairchild (6k, E)

They’re sure of each other, now. They’re settled. And as far as Sherlock is concerned, settled isn’t the least bit boring or stifling or constraining.

Settled is marvellous. Settled is freeing.

Settled means sometimes you make romantic love by candlelight, murmuring hushed words of endless devotion solely because you want to, because the moment feels right and good.

And sometimes, settled means you fuck on the sofa on a Saturday afternoon, straightforward and uncomplicated, no deep desperate romance necessary, just because fucking is fun.

mid length (16k-50k)

Shift by stopthat (46k, E)

Sherlock is tired.

John senses a shift.

◒

“I’m tired, John,” He murmurs. Barely a whisper. John swallows, feeling irrationally helpless.

“I can see that,” He responds quietly, tracing an eyebrow with the pad of his thumb. “Sleep, then,” He can hear the crack in his own voice—a perfect match for the one in his chest. He hopes that Sherlock won’t notice, won’t try to pick it all apart.

“Not what I meant,” He rumbles, as he drifts off and away, leaving John alone in wakefulness to wonder what the hell had just happened.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way To Samarra by @gaylilsherlock (20k, E) 🔎

And so Death said, “I was astonished to see your servant in Bagdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight, in Samarra.”

Holmes and Watson retreat to the good doctor’s family country home and lay their feelings bare. What follows, however, neither man could have foreseen.

*ACD-verse fic, imagined with Brett, Burke & later on Hardwicke, as the players, hence my fandom tags.

Let’s Make a Bed Out in the Rain by anonymous (17k, M)

John is devastated after his long-term girlfriend leaves him. Sherlock helps him through it.

Leave the Signs and the Sirens by out_there (24k, G)

After John's released and back home at Baker St, Sherlock still feels it. Down the centre of his chest there's an ache like a healing wound. A physical awareness of a body he usually ignores as much as he can. It's psychosomatic, nothing more interesting than that.

(Post-S1 AU)

long fics (50k and above)

The Men Who Talked Between Words by Odamaki (463k, E)

John expected to be a father some day; he expected to have the house, and the wife and the nice suburban job. Sherlock never expected to have children, in part because he never expected to make it past 30. As it turns out, you don't get a choice. Crammed into Baker Street with a baby, John struggles with single-parenthood and his own fears, while Sherlock treads the fine line between doing too little and saying too much.

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (78k, M)

After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I — the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains — shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

The Agony and The Ecstasy of Sherlock Holmes by @gaylilsherlock (54k, E)

How many times will Sherlock Holmes die for John Watson?

series/collections

February Chaos 2021: Prompt Ficlets by @ohlooktheresabee

Winter’s Child series by Canon_Is_Relative, ImpishTubist (116k, 26 works, complete)

Five years after they meet, Sherlock and John adopt a baby boy.

The Unintentional Crafts of Sherlock Holmes series by cwb, KarlyAnne (13k, 3 works, incomplete)

The Oh, What a Night series by penumbra (fan comic, 3 works, complete)

I’ll Carry the Moon (and the Stars in your Eyes) by 1electricpirate (49k, 7 works, incomplete) 🐺

Containing scenes from an experiment – perhaps the greatest of all. After all, Sherlock is a bonded Omega ... and maybe some urges are about more than biology, anyway.

The Horse and Carriage series by flawedamythyst (60k, 14 works, complete)

What Tomorrow Will Bring series by addicted2hugh (28k, 3 works, incomplete)