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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 3 years

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My Past Frozen Behind Glass

Pairing: Thirteenth Doctor x Reader, Thirteenth Doctor x River Song x Reader

Word Count: 8,857

Warnings: Angst, besties there’s SO much angst, mentions of death, mourning, ridiculous amounts of bittersweet pining curtesy of a one (1) Doctor™

Summary: The ghosts of the Doctors past haunt her. She had long since convinced herself that she could move on, that she could accept the fleetingness of human mortality. But an encounter with the people she once loved most causes her to reconsider that maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t have to be this way.

A/N: I’ve got one, maybe two more parts planned to pair with this fic, but this is still it’s own standalone. I NEED thank the thirsting for thirteen discord, y’all are wonderful and I love you all, thank you for putting up with me screaming about this fic for days, and I hope you enjoy your well overdue pain.

It was a quiet day on the TARDIS, innocent enough. The Doctor was working on the TARDIS’ brake system – on their last adventure they had crashed, and the TARDIS had been quite upset. Even now, whilst the Doctor worked on repairing her grumpy ship, the TARDIS innocuously zapped her with lose wires.

The others – the Doctors delightful fam, were also gathered in the console room, as they often did these days. But, for the life of her, the Doctor hadn’t been paying attention to what they were doing. She could hear idle conversation, and if she really concentrated, she could make out some words.

Something to do with “not the first” and “oh, who’s this.”

The connecting wire to the piston assembly wheel sparked, whacking the Doctor on the nose. She flinched back, scrunching up her face as she did so. “Aw come on,” she protested. “That wasn’t necessary!”

She went to grab the wire, but it went off again, the sparks burning her thumb. The Doctor hissed, driving her thumb into her mouth. “If you keep this up,” she pulled her thumb from her mouth and spoke softly, so only the TARDIS could hear her. “I’ll use the Paxus V Lubricant Oil on you, don’t you think I won’t,” she added a glare for extra effect. “Just you wait, we’ll get to oiling your disk plates and the WD-40 will be gone.”

She didn’t think her glare was too effective, but, after a whirr of protest, the wire stopped sparking. The Doctor took that as a win.

She snatched the wire, fiddling with the copper ends with her trusty sonic, when a voice broke through her concentration. She paused, poking her head up to the console level. “What was that?”

The fam was gathered around the projector, sitting on a mismatch of pillows and blankets. Ryan was even eating popcorn. Yaz turned back to face the Doctor.

“The TARDIS,” she repeated. “She’s showing us pictures of people.”

“We’re inventing stories for them,” Ryan added, although he didn’t turn to look at the Doctor when he spoke, and instead chose to shovel another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“And we were just wondering who these two were,” Yaz pointed her thumb towards the wall, and the Doctors followed her movements, regarding the projector.

The Doctors gaze locked onto the image, and she froze. Her eyes roved over a mess of white curls, paired with a halo of tightly coiled black ones. She mapped out a bright smile and a bright top, with dark arms wrapped around a sullen figure with a small smile of his own, one hand gripping an electric guitar, and the other holding a box of chips. There was a thumb in the corner of the photo, blurry and unfocused, the thumb of the person taking the photo.

The first thing she felt was grief, such a violent wave of it that it threatened to consume her. It sunk from her skin, pierced her bones, and settled into her gut. The Doctor felt bruised and a masochistic part of herself almost delighted in the sense of melancholy that grew from her heart, twisting around her fragile frame, and pressing into her chest and throat.

But then her eyes swept over Bill’s face, grinning up there on that large screen, and the Doctor couldn’t help but smile. Just a small one, smaller than the one she was giving in the photo, but it was there.

“That’s me,” she said softly. “Me and an old friend.”

The Doctor felt her fam’s gazes turn to her as she pulled herself upwards. She stepped away from the console, walking towards where they were.

“Which one’s you?” Graham asked, but his voice matched the Doctors volume, soft, knowing.

“Him,” she nodded towards the picture. “He was my last face actually,” she grazed her fingers across her cheek. “Before this one.”

The Doctor walked over slowly, her eyes never leaving Bills. There was so much life in them, so much joy.

“So,” Ryan spoke over a mouthful of popcorn. “You really were an old Scottish dude once.”

“I’m still old,” she said, and wrapped herself around one of the crystal pillars. She chuckled, a thought occurring to her, something so bright, so full of wonder, that it momentarily stopped her hearts. “My wife would probably be happier with this face though.”

Ryan blanched. “You’re married?”

The Doctor almost gawked. “Alright Ryan Sinclair, say what you really think.”

He backtracked. “Sorry it’s just – it’s not something that you’ve ever really brought up.”

The Doctor thought about River, her wild curls, her addictive grin, and her familiar perfume. The memory danced around her, wrapping her in warm arms and holding her there. But it burned too, because the very arms that held her there were gone – long gone, trapped in a dream – or maybe a memory, inside the bowls of a very large, very lonely library.

And the Doctor had been the one to do so.

Part of her hoped, really hoped, that River had omitted things from her diary. That maybe their story wasn’t over.

But that wasn’t really possible, was it.

So no, she didn’t really bring it up.

Instead, she nodded back towards the screen. “So yeah, Scottish. That was me. Big angry eyebrows too.”

The others hummed and took the cue for what it was. They settled in, turning back to the picture in question.

The Doctor let their voices melt over her and settled back into the crystal pillar. She drummed her fingers against it and spoke so softly that only the TARDIS could hear. “Why’re you showing them this old girl?”

Another image appeared just as suddenly, and the Doctors hearts clenched. It was a face she hadn’t seen in a very long time. A wide, delighted grin, a mane of blonde hair, tangled into a nice updo, and bright hazel eyes staring into the camera. She was on the back of a motorcycle, her bright pink dress puffing out at the sides.

“Oh, she’s definitely having the time of her life,” Ryan commented.

“I don’t think she’s actually from the 1950’s though,” Yaz added. “Look at her makeup…”

The pain in the Doctor hearts dampened into a dull throb as the voices of her friends sung into the background. This was an old wound, one that left an echo in the back of the Doctors mind. She let the grief dispel from her frame, let it leach from her toes and her fingertips, into the cool crystal she was holding.

This was a nice photo. Here, she was smiling.

“Another friend,” she said over the voices of the fam, who were chattering away and inventing a dazzling life for Rose. “I haven’t seen her in years.”

The Doctor could feel the quizzical, empathetic look Yaz was giving her. Could hear it too in her voice when she spoke. “Where is she now?”

The Doctor thought of Bad Wolf Bay, of the kiss she had witnessed, and gave a small, sad smile “Happy. I hope.”

There was a hum, then a spark from the console lit up the room. The Doctor snorted fondly. “Yeah, yeah I hear you,” she said, loud enough so the others could hear. “I’ll get back to them brakes now.”

She wandered back and plopped under the console, picking up the stray wire between her two fingers. Using the sonic, she began repairing it, tightening the copper. She softly thought of Nardole’s fat fingers, and of the friends she wasn’t going to see again. But that was okay, wasn’t it? She held them close with her, kept the memory of them and their smiles safe in her hearts.

Then Yaz cried out. “Oh, that’s such a cool jacket.”

The curiosity ate away at her, coiling itself into her gut. She didn’t want to look, something inside the Doctor told her she shouldn’t look – but before she could respond to that feeling, let it settle, let herself analyse why she was feeling that way, she had already turned around-

-And came face to face with you.

The Doctor dropped her sonic. There was the distant sound of it clattering against the floor. She barely noticed. Her brain stuttered for a moment. Your eyes were bright, so, so bright, and alive. She felt them looking into her own. Shining with mirth as they were, it was like the camera wasn’t there. There was this warm glow about you, one that seemed to radiate from beyond the image.

It felt as though, if the Doctor would only reach out her hand, she could touch you. So she did, and met nothing but air. Something inside her shattered.

She turned back to the console abruptly, with nothing but white noise serenading her impeding breakdown. She swallowed, her eyes stinging so sharply that for a moment the Doctor was blinded by it. It stunned her, the surprise rocking her core so violently that it shocked her from tears at all. The Doctor was not a crier, in this face she never had been.

There was a laugh from the floor, and the Doctor almost mistook it for yours.

She glared at the wire. “You’re getting the Paxus V Lubricant Oil.”

Except – it didn’t end there.

Ryan had asked to visit the moon, an idea that had latched onto Graham and Yaz, making them fervently agree.

Yaz leapt into the air, her spacesuit bright against her darker skin. “When was the last time you were on the moon Doc?”

“Oh yeah,” Ryan said. “You ever been to the moon before?”

“Oh loads of times,” the Doctor replied. She threw herself into the air, letting herself float, before settling back down. For a moment, she hoped it wouldn’t damage the creature inside.

“So, what’d you do here then?” Graham asked. He was settled firmly on the ground, dusting off different moon stones and inspecting them carefully. “Did you just jump around like this?”

“Nah not really,” the Doctor thought on it for a moment, launching herself back into the air. “ast time I had fun on the moon was-”

The Doctor crashed, landing on her left shoulder. Pain rocked into her body, shooting through her neck and down her chest. She rolled over, panting out a heavy breath.

Clara.

The last time she had been to the moon to have fun.

Was with Clara.

The Doctor sobered, sitting up suddenly just as Yaz came rushing over.

“Oh Doc, hey, are you okay?” She came to the Doctors side, crouching.

The Doctor gave her a pained smile, hoping it looked like a smile, and not the sneer she was sure she was actually giving. “Me? Oh yeah of course, I’m a peachy as a fruit salad.”

Yaz scrunched up her face. “That doesn’t make a whole load of sense.”

The Doctor brushed her off, standing on shaky legs. She had to get inside, get away from this all. She brushed her hands against her legs, the space suit making a funny noise at the contact. “You lot keep doing your thing, I’ve got to fix myself up. It was a bit of a fall, that.”

Yaz gave her a disbelieving look, and the Doctor refused to look at Ryan and Graham, knowing they would be giving her the same. Instead, she turned around and moon-marched back to the TARDIS.

Yaz had asked to see Rome, and this time, the Doctor had actually landed there. The four of them were wandering through the city, decked out in their personal togas, and enjoying the spoils that the marketplace had to offer.

The Doctor was distracted by a merchant’s honey when Graham came by her side. “It’s really nice to see you like this Doc,” he said. “I woulda thought you’d be bored of stuff like this now. You must come to Rome all the time.”

The Doctor hummed. “I actually haven’t been for a couple of centuries,” the Doctor paused, thinking about it carefully. “I must’ve been in my seventh face at the time. Just did a quick pit stop, really.”

Graham did a double take. “Wait Doc hold on, you’re married?”

She tasted some of the merchant’s honey. It was sweet and delightful; she could taste eucalyptus and the valleys of woodland by the sea.

Behind her, there was a loud shout. A man screaming that he didn’t speak Celtic.

Ice ran down the Doctors veins, and she turned around so suddenly she gave herself whiplash. She scanned the crowd, trying to find a familiar bob of loud red hair and an even louder mouth.

Her eyes found the merchant, standing among a collection of ceramic pots and kitchen bowls, asking a woman to repeat herself. She turned away in a huff. Long black hair and olive skin.

She wasn’t Donna.

The Doctor swallowed and ran a hand through her hair. Graham came into her vision, his face pulled into a concerned frown. He lay a gentle hand on her arm. “Hey Doc, you okay?”

The Doctor nodded slowly, pulling her gaze away from the woman. “Yeah,” she lied. “I’m fine.”

The forest had long since made its claim over the old city, it’s ruins threatening to crumble as they explored. They stuck close together, warring against the eerie chill that had settled over them when they had first arrived.

That is, until Yaz had wandered off.

So the Doctor, Graham, and Ryan were busy looking for her.

In truth, the Doctor wasn’t quite sure what these ruins were, or what civilisation had formed them. This planet was pretty new to her – she actually wasn’t sure if she had been here before, but the ruins reminded her of an old English village.

They came across a large field, lined by a field of stone walls, some as tall as the Ryan’s head, whilst some barely reached the Doctors thigh. It was a mismatched maze, long forgotten to the winds and time. Carefully, the Doctor, Graham, and Ryan navigated themselves through it, sticking together. Everyone once in a while, one of them would call after Yaz, cupping their hands over their mouths.

The Doctor drummed her fingers along the wall, thinking out loud. “Maybe a century or so, it’s been here. Certainly not long enough for it to have been degraded as it has.”

“Do you think aliens have had something to do with it then?” Graham asked, and then called out for Yaz.

The Doctor hummed. “Well probably, since aliens are the ones who built this place.”

The Doctor could practically feel Graham’s eye roll. “I meant different aliens, Doc.”

The Doctor forced her face into a bright smile, itching to call out Yaz’s name again. Why wasn’t she here? The Doctor had strictly told this lot not to wander off.

“Well, that could be possible too,” The Doctor conceded. “Who knows.”

Ryan snorted. “Not us, apparently.”

The Doctor nodded. Yaz might know. After all, she had wandered off.

They came around a bend and the Doctor practically froze. Yaz was standing by a dead end, the wall twisting around her and running back the way they had come. The Doctor’s eyes widened, her breathing quicker, her mind tingling. Yaz looked… fine. Which wasn’t right. She seemed calm enough, her posture relaxed, her stance at ease. It was so polar opposite of how she should be standing. Rigid, poised, ready to run. Because in front of her was a statue.

A statue of an angel.

Ryan laughed out loud, the sound an echo against the raging tide turning in the Doctors mind. He began to run over to Yaz, Graham not far behind him.

The Doctor couldn’t help the way her voice broke. She threw out her hand. “Don’t!”

Graham and Ryan paused, turning back to her. Yaz turned too, giving the Doctor a raised eyebrow, but her gaze never left the statue. “Whatever you do,” she spoke slowly, grateful at how level her voice was. “Don’t blink. Don’t even blink. You blink and we’re gone.”

Her friends paled.

“Doc,” Graham said. “What’re you talking about?”

“That right there,” the Doctor said. “It’s called a weeping angel. They’re predators, some the nastiest in the universe.”

Yaz’s eyes widened, and she stumbled a half step away. “Sorry – what?”

“One touch from them and they trap you in the past,” the Doctor explained, her hearts jumping into her throat. “They feed off of the remaining time energy.”

Ryan relaxed. “Oh, that’s not too bad. We’ve got a time machine after all.”

The Doctor shook her head, her eyes never leaving the statue. They weren’t getting it, how weren’t they getting it?

The Doctors mind flashed to a graveyard, of red hair and glassy eyes. Of time stolen from a lost centurion. Of a gravestone she would never mention, and of arms that had held her as she screamed – so selfishly, so full of pain.

Her fam had to understand.

“If they touch you,” she said again. “There’s no coming back. I-” her voice broke. “I can’t get you back.”

Yaz swallowed, her eyes wide. Distantly, the Doctor wondered if she herself looked scared. She certainly felt it. “Because they consume our remaining time?” Yaz ventured.

The Doctor nodded; mouth set in a grim line. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t bring out the words.

It only took one touch.

It couldn’t happen again.

The Doctor took in a shaky breath. “Listen to me,” she said. “They’re quantum locked; they can’t move as long as they’re being watched. As long as we’re watching it, it won’t move.”

The others nodded with various degrees of certainty. The Doctor reached out her hands, keeping her gaze locked on the statue. “Come take my hand, I won’t let it hurt you.”

Then suddenly, the Earth was ground shakey. No – that was wrong, that wasn’t the right English. It didn’t make sense – the Doctor couldn’t wrap her mind around what was happening. One minute she was standing, eyes transfixed on the damn statue, then in the next she found herself on the ground, her body crashing into the grass.

Distantly, she heard the cry of her friends, an echo in the scenery the Doctor couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. The force of the ground’s movements reverberated in the Doctors skull, in her toes, in her fingertips, against the throbbing pounding pain in her shoulder, and her back.

She groaned into the silence, it was quiet, a dead sort of silence that suffocated the life out of the Doctor breath. It was an earthquake – well, planetquake, there should be noise. But it was silent. A silence so absolutely wrong that it boarded on terrifying. She tried to sit up, but the force of the quake forced her down. It rattled her, the doctor could feel her fragile bones clatter against one another, grating and painful.

And just as suddenly as it had started, it just… stopped.

The Doctor blinked.

Immediately, she threw herself upwards, her body ignoring gravity. The Doctor hastily spun herself around, her gaze locking onto her friends. She called out, her voice hoarse, and, belatedly, they responded.

They were okay.

The Doctor paused. If she was looking at her fam, and her fam was looking at her. Then…

In an instant, the Doctor snapped her gaze to the statue. How it hadn’t hurt her friends, how it hadn’t taken her friends, she didn’t know.

The Doctor let out a laugh, slightly deranged, but oh so full of relief. The statue stood still, intact, in the same position. It was just a normal, bland, old statue.

Which meant it wasn’t an angel.

She saw her fam give her equally confused expressions, and the Doctor doubled over, her laugh devolving into cackles. “I was wrong,” she breathed out. “Oh gods, for once I was wrong.”

The Doctor woke slowly, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescent lights above her. She could vaguely hear voices, a tense conversation punctuated by a knock against… something. Glass?

The Doctor pulled herself up, letting out a tired groan. She captured her head in her hand, leaning into her other palm, which was resting on the cool floor. She blinked a couple of times before squeezing her eyes shut. Did her head hurt? Why did it hurt?

“That won’t work,” a voice said, and the Doctors blood ran cold. “I tried it when I first arrived.”

The Doctor was imagining things, surely. There was no way this voice was here. It wasn’t possible.

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try again, right?” That was Yaz – wasn’t it? Why was Yaz here?

The voice – that voice, the one that made the hair on the Doctor’s arms stand on end. The one that ghosted against the nape of the Doctor’s neck, sending chills down her spine. It spoke again. “I mean – sure,” there was some shuffling. “Let me help you out.”

The Doctor lifted her head off of her hand, taking in the space. It was… white. Pristine white floors stretched out from her and met equally sterile white walls. Even the roof was white, untouched.

The Doctor stood up on wobbly legs, shooting forward. There was a cry – Ryan, maybe, and just as suddenly, a hand was holding her shoulder. “Hey,” the voice, that voice, the voice that couldn’t be possible, spoke again. It was soft, quiet, so impossibly caring – and it shouldn’t exist. “Are you okay?”

A familiar feeling settled in the Doctors frame, right against her chest. It clawed against her, in her gut, in her fingers, and in her toes. She didn’t want to turn around; she couldn’t turn around. She was afraid.

She took in a shaky breath, and then, on unsteady feet, her hands trembling, she turned.

Only to come face to face with-

-You.

Her hearts caught, and the Doctor found herself rooted in place. It was as if her body were surprised, like it hadn’t caught up with her mind, as if it couldn’t possibly know that it had been you. With your voice, and your hand, and your eyes – oh your eyes. So large, so bright, so warm. Your eyes were tight and worried, skirting over her face, looking for… something.

There was a beat, only one, where the Doctor just let herself simply bask in your presence. The fluorescent lights shone behind you, giving you this incandescent glow.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” you said eventually, your voice soft, reassuring. “We’ve been drugged, it’s normal to feel out of it.”

Distantly, the Doctor could feel herself nod, like a wire was pulling her head up and down. A hand ran through her hair – her own hair, the Doctor realised, untangling some of the knotting at the ends.

It was absolutely unfathomable. You were here. In front of her. Your hand on her shoulder, grounding, warm. You smiled at her, as though no one but the Doctor was important to you. You looked at her almost in the way you used to, like the Doctor really could be as brilliant as you believed.

“Hey Doc-,” The Doctor’s gaze snapped to the final voice, Graham, who was walking over slowly. “You alright?”

The spell had been broken.

The Doctor leaned into your hand, revelling in the contact – she still couldn’t believe it was you, and turned to Graham. “Absolutely,” she said. “Just took me a few minutes to get my bearings.”

“You’re a doctor then?” You asked, and something fell in the Doctors chest.

You didn’t recognise her.

Of course you didn’t recognise her. The Doctor mentally slapped herself. She was different, oh so very different since she had last seen you. When you had been alive, when you had been happy.

It was foolish of herself to think otherwise.

Oh – oh no. You couldn’t know who she was. Blasted laws of time. The Doctor wanted to shake you, wrap her arms around you and ask – no, demand, to know how you were here. Her hands itched to take yours and never let go. Hold you by her side. She wanted to tell you everything, about the fam, about the TARDIS’ new interior – about her own hearts, and how she had never stopped lov-

No.

She couldn’t.

You couldn’t know who she was, not really. You were a ghost, an echo of her past. To know the truth – it could break everything, slash a tear into the very fabric of space and time. Your end, her end with you, was a fixed point. As solid and real as well-

As River’s end had been.

She pulled her hands to her sides. She wasn’t going to reach out to you.

“Yeah,” she responded, after what felt like an impossibly long time, but, judging from your expression, it maybe had only been a beat. “Doctor Jane Smith, that’s me.”

You raised an eyebrow, so subtle that if the Doctor hadn’t been mapping out your features, the slope of your nose, the quirk of your lips, the way your eyes sparkled under the light, she would have missed it entirely. “Sounds like a friend of mine.”

The Doctor felt her face go cold. That was another slap. Jane Smith – too obvious, too revealing.

Your eyes raked over her person, and you gave her the smallest, cheekiest of grins. “You might just be cuter than him, though.”

Wait – cute? Oh.

“Well,” the Doctor said, attempting to salvage anything she could. She used the first example she could. “Are they an archaeologist too?”

Was she copying her wife? Yes. Would it keep you safe? Also yes.

And that was all that mattered.

She purposely ignored the confused stares of her fam – she didn’t need to see them to know they were giving her strange looks.

You gave her a small, amused grin, and the Doctor wanted to lock it up and keep it. “Something like that.”

“Oh yep, that’s the Doc,” Yaz said, and the Doctor was surprised by how convincing she sounded. “She’s mad for archaeology.”

Well – she wasn’t wrong.

You laughed, the sound so bright, so beautiful, that it fluttered into the Doctors stomach, teaming with butterflies. “That’s completely understandable,” you gave her a considering look. “Y’know, you’d probably get along with my friend. You’ve got a similar vibe. At the very least,” you squeezed her shoulder, a sparkle in your eye. “You’re just as endearing as him.”

“Oh yeah I’m sure,” Yaz said, coming up beside both you and the Doctor – you! Yaz gave the Doctor an absolutely flabbergasted look, one she carefully masked behind a single raised eyebrow and a nod of her head towards you.

The Doctor set her mouth in a line, nodding back. Yes, as far as she was concerned, it was you.

She really wanted it to be you.

Besides – you’d called her endearing.

“Anyway,” you continued, and the Doctor tried to ignore how cold she felt when you moved your hand away. “You arrived here maybe an hour ago? I’m not sure, time’s really difficult to track, and so far, I haven’t found a way out.”

The Doctor cocked her head to the side, glancing around the room. It was a box, a big white box with white glass walls. “How do y’know it’s been an hour?”

Your frowned slightly, turning back to her. “You don’t hear it?”

The Doctor chewed on her lower lip. There was… something. A ticking noise, very faint, almost impossible to hear. You smiled at her, bright and proud, and a part of the Doctor melted.

Gods, she had missed you.

“It’s ticking to the same speed as my watch,” you shook your wrist, an analogue watch – one she didn’t recognise, was wrapped around your wrist. “So, I’m assuming that wherever we are, it’s running on the same time as Earth.”

The Doctor gave you a delighted grin. She’d almost forgotten how clever you were, how ridiculously, wonderfully clever you were. “Of course,” she breathed. “So, we must be in an invented artificial space.”

You grinned. “Clever and cute. Amazing.”

The Doctor gawped, her jaw falling. In the same instance, she slammed it shut. The fact that you liked her, in this body, something so new, something so different. Well… it didn’t make her feel bad, that was for sure.

Testing the air pressure, the Doctor bounced. Once, then twice.

It was-

“The same gravity as Earth,” you gestured to the Doctor. “At least, that’s how it feels to me. That was the other clue.”

You were right, of course you were right.

Graham frowned. “How can you tell that?”

You shrugged. “I’ve travelled a lot, after a while you start to pick up on how it feels different, especially when you’re from Earth,” you waved your hand. “It’s like how you can feel the moon’s a different gravity, it’s lighter. Here, it’s heavier.”

“Wow,” Ryan said. “That’s wild.”

You gave them a small smile. “Yeah, I guess. Again, you get used to it,” you paused suddenly. “So, I have a theory on why I’m here. What about you?”

Yaz raised an eyebrow. “Well, what’s your theory?”

You gave them a bashful smile. “Sorry but… I’ve only just met you, and there’s four of you against one of me.”

Something inside the Doctor broke, tarnishing her weary, forlorn hearts. You had never not trusted her. Ever.

The Doctor swallowed, thinking back on her life with you, back before everything went wrong. She could hazard a guess, could judge it by the way your eyes sparkled when Graham had called her ‘Doctor,’ in the way you had so expertly analysed what little information was around you.

“You’re here because the Doctor,” she breathed. “You know him, don’t you?”

Ryan almost squawked, she could hear his intake of breath, the way he coughed and spluttered. She knew how absurd she sounded, how utterly baffling it was to her fam. But you couldn’t know the truth. She had to keep you safe.

Your eyes grew sad, almost as if you were regarding her differently. “Yes, I assume you do too?”

“We travel with the Doctor,” Yaz said carefully, slowly. “You do too?”

Your eyes grew wide – surprised, no, that wasn’t quite right. There was a beat, only for a moment, and the Doctor had never wanted to reach out to you more.

She kept her hands to her sides.

“You come after me,” you breathed out, your voice so impossibly small. You shook your head, clearing your throat. When you spoke your voice was clearer, more assured “I do, well – I did, from your perspective,” your voice grew smaller when you spoke again. “You must all be pretty close to him, right?”

The Doctor swallowed. “Yeah, you could say that.”

You nodded. “Well, any friend of the Doctor’s is a friend of mine,” you gave them a small grin, but it didn’t reach your eyes. The Doctor wasn’t sure how to interpret that, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to interpret it. She didn’t want to see you in pain – ever. “You’re right though, I think I’m here because of the Doctor, have to be. I’m not sure who else anyone would try to glean information from.”

“So, you think we’re going to be interrogated?” Yaz said, giving you a considering look.

“Yeah, I-,” You face fell suddenly, and you let out a soft oh. “Maybe we already are.”

It clicked.

“Because we’re talking about him,” she said, just as quickly.

“Wait,” Graham said. “So they’ve got us all together so that we’ll talk about her – er, him. What’s that gonna accomplish?”

“Think about what you do when you’re out with your mates,” Yaz said, her eyes growing wide as the implications dawned on her. “What do you talk about, especially with people you’ve just met.”

“Your mutual friends,” Ryan breathed out.

Your gaze swept to the one of the walls, the one that was glass. “We’re being watched.”

The Doctor felt it first. A soft rumbling under her feet, niggling against her toes and running up her legs, into her back, and coursing down into her fingers. She turned towards the glass wall, the same wall you were looking at – with all the contempt of a women who was being unjustly watched, eyeing it warily. Why was she feeling this? It felt far too similar to-

A big boom rocked against them. You let out a startled cry, the sound absorbing the Doctor’s other senses. Before she could stop herself, the Doctor reached out, pulling you against herself as she threw herself to the ground.

For a moment she let herself revel in it, in the feeling of you in her arms once again – so warm, so real, so alive. You were tucked into her, you head resting in the crook of her neck, your hand grasping her waist. You held her almost desperately, like the Doctor was important to you, important enough to be held.

There was something so warm about it, something so right, that for a moment the Doctors brain short circuited. There was only you, you in her arms, with the familiar scent of your shampoo and the familiar feeling of your body in hers, everything else was white noise.

Until the blast smacked right into the Doctors frame. Shards of glass splintered, shrieking in protest as it almost danced in the air above. A wave of air hit the Doctor square in the back, tendrils roaming over her person.

She supressed a groan, choosing instead to look down at you. You blinked up at her wildly, but otherwise you were unharmed.

You were safe, and that – as it had always been, was the most important thing.

The dust and glass settled, and carefully, you removed yourself from the Doctor, nodding her a small thank you. The Doctor tried to ignore how cold she felt. You looked up behind her, and immediately, your face brightened, your mouth stretching into a large, almost recognisable grin.

“Well, I can say with good authority that no one is watching you anymore.”

The Doctor had barely moved, and yet, the air she had been holding so firmly in her lungs knocked out of her. She knew that voice, would recognise it anywhere, knew it the very way she knew how her own bones were stitched together.

“Hello darling.”

You threw yourself up, oblivious to the Doctors inner turmoil, laughing that beautiful, gorgeous laugh. If it were anyone but you, the Doctor would have barely acknowledged it.

You leapt over the Doctor and breathed out, completely elated. “River.”

The Doctor looked up; she couldn’t help it. River Song was colour, vibrant and brilliant, so full of the utter beauty of the cosmos. She glowed, the burn of the fire she had left behind framing her crown of curls.

River held you tightly, the way the Doctor wanted to, the way she had been holding you, and gave you a small, soft kiss on the forehead. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you.”

You pulled away, still holding River, your eyes only for her. “Never.”

Throat dry, the Doctor swallowed.

You pulled away, finally, and cocked your head to the side, giving River – her River, a small, cocky smile. “Did you have fun there,” you nodded behind them, where the fire in the observatory room burned.

The observatory-

The Doctors gaze flickered to the wall – well, what was left of it. Shards of glass stuck from the roof and the floor, jagged and sharp. They were no longer white, and instead reflected the oranges and reds of the fire burning behind them. Behind what was left of the wall were a series of desks, long since deserted, devolving into charcoal before the Doctor’s very eyes.

And there River stood, so proudly, so sure of herself, in all her brilliant glory. The Doctor gasped a little, her hearts pounding just a little bit harder – skipping every couple of beats, and absolutely reeling. How was this possible? You and River were here right in front of her. So impossibly close, and yet, she couldn’t reach out.

There was a groan behind her, and the Doctors breathing hitched. How could she? She’d been so caught up in her own emotional turmoil, stumbling over the impossible made possible, that she had completely ignored her fam.

Breathe, she had to breathe. They weren’t out of the woods yet.

She turned away from you and River – both of you, and focused on her fam, who needed her right now. She ran to Ryan first, who was slowly sitting up, holding his head in his hand. “Oh wow,” he groaned, his voice rough. “That was intense, man.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look up at me, will you?”

He did so, and the Doctor pulled out her sonic. Carefully, she scanned his eyes, noticing with relief as his pupils shrunk almost instantly. No concussion then. She rubbed up and down his arm, pulling the sonic back and checking her readings. No discernible injuries.

Good.

She went to Graham next, who had been knocked into an opposing wall. After a quick check over, she was glad to find that he too, was okay.

“Bloody hell D- er, Jane,” he said, cupping his head in his hand. “That was a whole number.”

The Doctor nodded; her mouth set in a grim line. “Yeah,” she replied. “It was, huh.”

Yaz was standing by the time the Doctor got to her, shaking glass out of her hair. The Doctor scanned her, grateful that she too, was uninjured.

It was something, at least.

With a small, determined grin, she turned back to them. “Everyone alright?”

Yaz gave her a small smile, and she noticed the others following suit. Gods, she adored them. Despite everything, all the secrets, all the pain, they knew just what to do. “Yeah,” Yaz said. “I think we’re good.”

Your voice interrupted them. “I thought you were an archaeologist, not a medical Doctor.”

River, who the Doctor noticed had been fussing over you, judging by how she shot her sonic trowel – a trowel of all things, over your frame, looked up in interest. “An archaeologist, you say?”

You nodded, still looking at the Doctor. “So she’s said. This lot travel with the Doctor.”

River cocked her head to that, wrapping an arm over your shoulder, so you were nestled into her side. The Doctors hearts ached, she wanted to be there too. “Oh?” River said, her voice low, almost sultry. “How interesting.”

The Doctor wanted to bury herself alive. You and River were both far too clever for her.

River gave the Doctor a considering look. “What’s he like?”

“Busy,” Yaz said suddenly, coming to stand by the Doctor’s side. “Obsessed with fezzes.”

The Doctor could have rejoiced. Yaz was brilliant, completely and utterly brilliant. What would the Doctor do without her?

Get tongue tied, probably.

What did humans call their partners these days? Significant Others?

Well, there they were, the two most important people to the Doctor, her significant others, her people. And she couldn’t do anything about it.

You and River let out a harmonised groan. “Of course he’s still into the fezzes,” you said.

“We were fools to expect anything less,” River agreed. She then nodded towards the Doctor. “At the very least, hon,” she winked, her eyes drifting over the Doctor’s body, almost lazily, like she had all the time in the world. “You were quite a sight to watch just then. Very formidable.”

The Doctor blinked. Once. Twice. She swallowed, trying to ignore the butterflies that twisted through her gut, making her body feel like a flustered balloon. It was so odd to get flirted with, knowing that River didn’t know who the Doctor truly was.

You laughed – again, that sound, nudging River with your shoulder. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Oh darling,” she mused. “As if you didn’t do the same,” she turned back to the Doctor. “Look at her.”

You hummed in agreement. “No, no. You’re right,” you turned back to River, who still hadn’t taken her arm off of you. You were completely comfortable with it too – which, of course you were. It was River, and it was you. River was everything to you.

The Doctor had been too.

She probably still was, in all honesty. Her past face, younger.

The one who had failed you.

That was a third slap. Another reason why you couldn’t know who she was, why neither of you could know. Because the Doctor had failed you – she was going to fail you.

And if you knew…

Gods, time was nothing but a wibbly wobbly… thing.

And, for you? The Doctor was scared of how far she would be willing to go to break it.

Speaking to River, as if time hadn’t completely frozen for the Doctor, you asked. “Oh hey, whilst you were blowing stuff up, did you happen to find out why we’re here?”

River laughed, and something caught in the Doctors throat. She hadn’t forgotten what it sounded like – not really, not ever, but it was gorgeous. Musical in a way that was beyond compare. “Oh darling,” she said. “I don’t blow things up, I simply,” she waved her free hand, the hand that wasn’t wrapped around you. “Held the fire in the right persuasion.”

You snorted. “Alright.”

“In any case,” River continued. “It makes sense that you lot,” she gestured to the Doctor and her fam. “Are friends with the Doctor. They had a few… choice files on him.”

You glanced back to the observation room. “Not anymore though, I assume.”

“No,” River said, her voice cold. “Not anymore.”

You squeezed her hand, giving her a warm look of reassurance. Neither of you spoke, but the Doctor knew you didn’t need to. It was innate with you; it always had been. She felt it down in her bones.

She missed you both. So, so much. The Doctor completely ached for you.

River then turned to the Doctor and her fam, her voice lighter. “We’re in Sheffield, 2019,” she said. “No idea why, but it should help. Do you need a way home?”

The Doctor breathed out a sigh of relief. They could walk to Yaz’s place, easy. That’s where the TARDIS was.

“Nah,” she said. “We’re from ‘round here. We’ll be fine.”

River nodded. “A shame, I would have liked having you around.”

You snorted, tilting your head onto her arm with a laugh. “River that was awful.”

River grinned. “Oh, you love it.”

You sobered quickly, giving her a look so earnest, that, if the Doctor were anyone else, she’d feel compelled to look away. You spoke softly. “Always.”

The Doctor swallowed and did look away. She couldn’t handle it, not when she knew she wouldn’t get the same look from either of you. Not with this face, not in this time.

You squeezed River’s hand a final time, before detangling yourself from her. “It should be safe for people to get out of here right?”

River raised an eyebrow, her eyes shining with mirth. “Oh alright. That desperate to get rid of me are you.”

You laughed. “No, we’re sticking together, I’m not going through that again.”

River nodded sagely. “Well, I won’t say I’m opposed to that.”

“We are getting out of her though,” Ryan said. “…Right?”

You nodded. “Oh yes, of course. We’ll have to walk single file, and River and I should stick to the end, because we’re more familiar with this sort of stuff – sorry.”

Yaz gave the Doctor a wide-eyed look, but the Doctor only nodded. They weren’t wrong, the Doctor loved her fam, but you and River had years of experience on them.

You looked towards the observatory room, letting out a breath of relief as the fires began to settle. “If you want to get started, we should be out of here soon.”

“Hang on,” Graham said. “Shouldn’t you,” he gestured to River. “Be leading us out of her.”

River shook her head. “I’m not leaving Y/N.”

The Doctor held up her hands, surprised that they were somewhat shaking. “It’s fine. We’re happy to go first.”

The Doctor shoved her hands into her pockets.

Yaz nodded, resolute. “Okay, let’s go then.”

Soon, Yaz, Graham, and Ryan were heading off, picking through the glass and evading the dwindling fires. You and River however, lingered, so the Doctor did too. Why weren’t you following?

Eventually, once the fam were out of sight, you collapsed against a wall, letting your head rest against it. You let out a shaky sigh. River turned to you, her face falling into worry. She lay a hand on your back, whispering to you.

If the Doctor wanted, she could strain her ears to listen.

But she would give you your privacy. It was the right thing to do.

The sound of the Doctors boots crunching into the glass practically echoed in the otherwise silent room, as she was slowly itching her way across to the observatory room. You were silent for a beat. Then another. Until, suddenly, you said. “Obsessed with fezzes, huh?”

The Doctor could practically feel the way her eyes bulged from her skull. River paused her movements. “Y-yeah,” the Doctor coughed. “Loves a fez.”

River’s jaw fell. She threw her head to the Doctor, back to you, the Doctor, then to you again. She spoke in a heated whisper. “It can’t be.”

You turned away from the wall, looking back at the Doctor – truly looking at her. It was like your gaze pierced through the Doctors skin, like you could see into her very hearts. You walked towards her, slowly, oh so very slowly, but the Doctor found she couldn’t – or maybe wouldn’t move.

The Doctor’s breathing hitched as you met her, landing almost nose to nose. You squinted eyes slightly, crooking your head to the side. There was silence between you, long and hazy. You gave her an expectant look, almost daring the Doctor to say something.

But then you spoke instead. “You’re a terrible actor, Jane Smith.”

There was a shout behind them. “Oh my god.”

The Doctor swallowed, but before she could respond, before she could do much of anything, River was beside you. She looked hurt – like she had washed been in acid. Her eyes were wide, almost frightened. Her eyes flitted across the Doctors face, searching for something. Slowly, she took in a shaky breath. She looked absolutely and completely broken.

The slap stung, the clap echoing across the room. Pain stretched across the Doctors cheek, throbbing and burning all at the same time. The Doctor reeled, shooting back from the force.

Quickly, she threw her hand to her cheek to cup it gently. “Ow.”

River seethed. “How dare you.”

The Doctor laughed. It overtook her, overwhelming her senses. It travelled through her arms, wrapped itself around her chest, and burst a blubbering cackle from the very depths of her diaphragm.

Your face fell. So did Rivers. And instantly, you reached a hand to hold her. “Oh gosh Doctor, are you okay?”

Doctor.

She let herself laugh some more. Doctor.

She’d forgotten how that sounded. She’d forgotten how you looked at her, like she was just oh so very important – more important than the stars she took you to see, more important than the songs, the hymns, that civilisations sung about you.

River ran a hand through her hair, her eyes jumped through the room, she was thinking, something that was always very dangerous with her. But when she looked at the Doctor – gods, when she truly saw the Doctor, it was freeing.

She composed herself, she couldn’t squander this chance. She was with you, her people. And she didn’t want to waste a second. “I just…” She could feel how light her voice was when she spoke. “Gods, I can’t begin to tell you how much I missed you.”

River’s face fell into a sad smile. “And I you.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Always.”

The Doctor paused, her gaze flitting between the two of you. You were both so… sad. Why were you so sad.

“We can’t be here,” River said, her voice so soft it was like she was talking to a spooked animal. Maybe she was. “All of us, together, now,” she continued. “This can’t happen.”

And it dawned on the Doctor, so violently it threated to shake her core.

“When?” She asked, her voice breaking over the word. She could hazard a guess, but she didn’t want to be right. For once, she couldn’t be.

River gave her the saddest of looks, one that ate the Doctor to the bone. The Doctor almost told her to stop, to never, ever speak it. But speak it, River did. “After Darillium.”

Oh.

You let out a gasp, turning to River. “No.”

Utter anguish threatened to consume the Doctor. Here you were, both of you, right in front of her after all this time – and you were on the road towards your end. There was nothing she could do about it. She wanted to scream, or maybe cry out, the complete desolate misery rolling in her gut, coiling around her fragile hearts.

It was just so unfair.

She neither screamed nor cried out. Instead, she took in a single, shaky breath, and allowed the thought to pass.

She could fix this.

You were here, this had to mean something. Her gaze found your wildly, and she spoke in almost blind hope. “Come with me.”

River paled, her eyes growing watery. Despite this, she remained composed. “You know we-”

“Don’t,” The Doctor said, her voice almost broken. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t face it “Don’t finish that sentence.”

River sighed, and, after a beat, the Doctor felt a soft, small kiss on her forehead. The Doctor leaned into it, terrified of opening her eyes.

In a shallow, devastated breath, River spoke. “Goodbye, sweetie.”

“Wait-,” you said, and the Doctor scrambled, opening her eyes in an instant. However, River was already gone. Gone with the same fire that had brought her here.

The Doctor let out a harsh, angry cry, and you took her hand. The Doctor looked at it for a moment, marvelling in the way your fingers were wrapped around her own. She let her gaze travel up your arm, you were wearing your favourite jumper, the one she had always been desperate to try.

You rubbed your eyes with the back of your jumper’s sleeve. Then, you braced the Doctor with a hard look. “Listen. Come find me. Come find us.”

The Doctor shook her head. There was fire and glass, and everything was lost. She had accepted this, learned how to accept it, and do her best to move on.

How unfair, how utterly cruel that she was faced with you both once more, knowing that she couldn’t have you. “It’s not possible,” her voice wavered. “You’re gone.”

“That is complete and utter nonsense, and you know it,” you replied, your voice like steel. You were sure of yourself, composed in a way the Doctor had always once been for you. “If there’s one thing you’re good at Doctor, it’s doing the impossible.”

The Doctor swallowed, and you took a step forward, so your noses were touching. You poked her in the chest, leaving your finger in its place. You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you dare give up on us, on me, on her.”

The Doctor blinked owlishly at you. Was it possible? Could she find you? Could she save you – both of you?

“I don’t know what’s going to happen Doctor,” you continued. “But I know, whatever it is, we can fix it.”

What was it about time? There was something important about it, she had been thinking about it only a moment earlier. Wibbly-wobbly.

Right?

You squeezed her hand, before pulling her into a bone crushing hug. The Doctor let herself melt into it, she was selfish like that, and she couldn’t let you go.

But you pulled away.

Before she could open your eyes, you covered them with your hand. With more conviction than the Doctor thought she had ever heard you speak, you spoke two words, only two, and somehow – it was enough to change everything. “Find us.”

Then, just as suddenly as River, perfect, formidable River, you were gone.

In the empty white room, with glass scattered around her feet, and the dying embers burning behind her, the Doctor stood. She ghosted her hand over her forehead, where Rivers lips had just been, and held her hand – the hand you had been holding, against her hearts.

Time, it was fragile, wasn’t it? There was some law about it, something about fixed time points, certain things being set in stone. People came and went, that was how the Doctors life had always been. She’d even gotten used to the grief by now, letting it pass over her, letting it drift into the voices of strangers and the faces of those she’d never get a chance to see.

But sometimes – well, sometimes rules were made to be broken, weren’t they?

She was going to find you. She was going to save you.

Both of you.

A/N^2: It’s important to mention that ‘big boom’ and ‘ground shakey’ were descriptions curtesy of @bizarredalek and @fabulouspotatosister respectively. I’m both equally impressed by what you came up with, and that I could unironically fit them in here. Also shout out to @iced-tea-possibly for sticking with me pretty much the entire time I wrote it, you’re far too good to me. Love y’all loads

#13th doctor x reader #River Song x Reader #the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor imagine #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor #Doctor Who #DW

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ichorai · 3 years

Text

goldstorm and bug boy! ; 12.00 am.

pairing ; spiderman!yunho x antihero!reader

synopsis ; the one with turtles and pesky news broadcasting logos.

words ; 1.0k

warnings ; cursing

goldstorm and bug boy! masterlist.

All the ceiling lights were switched off, a dull blue glow of your television basking you and Yunho in a steely hue. There was little space between you two on the couch, but a part of him wished you were closer. Today you smelled of coconuts and peaches, with the slightest hint of gunpowder (you were practicing your shooting aim earlier that morning). Your scent was like home to him.

While Yunho’s gaze was firmly trained on the grave news reporter addressing casualties during an attack, you were furrowing your brows at something else on your phone whilst shoveling Chinese takeout into your mouth (and missing far too often―there was spicy soy sauce smudged on your cheek) at the same time. He was tempted to crane his neck and glance at what you were agonizing over, but he managed to reign himself in. If you wanted him to know, you’d tell him.

It seemed that you sensed his curiosity, because you leaned closer at an alarming speed, shoving your phone into his face so close that your screen was brushing against his nose.

“I’m getting us a pet turtle.” Although your voice was scratchy and worn out from the trials and tribulations of today, the words you uttered were still laced with child-like excitement. “But none of these stupid tanks look good enough for Shelline Dion. I want a huge one… like bigger than our bathroom huge.”

With a quirked eyebrow, Yunho grasped your wrist to pull your phone away from his face with a small smile. “Okay, first of all, Shelline Dion? Really? Like the Titanic song singer?”

“Yeah. You have a problem with naming our turtle Shelline Dion?”

Yunho snorted, “Look, I didn’t even know we were getting a turtle. And hey, second of all, we’re not getting a tank as big as our bathroom. That’d cost like… a bajillion dollars.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled in a deflated tone, plopping back down to your side of the couch and scrolling through more tanks for Shelline.

Just at that moment, the TV news anchor spoke up.

“The rise of crime in our city is finally being combatted with two new vigilante superheroes gaining mass popularity amongst the citizens. One goes by the notoriously known name of Spider-man and their trusty sidekick that recently coined the nickname ‘Goldstorm’ for the striking accents of their suit.”

“Holy fucking shit, Y/N, we’re on TV,” Yunho said breathelessly, jaw hanging agape. You pried your eyes away from turtles and tanks and up to the screen in mild disinterest. If you were to be honest, you didn’t really care about showing up on the news. It wasn’t like anybody (other than losers like Yunho) watched that shit anyways. “They called you my sidekick,” he quipped with an air of arrogance.

You rolled your eyes to the unlit ceiling. “I must make a shitty ass sidekick for never listening to you.”

And as the anchor kept talking, a picture of you and Yunho in your superhero uniforms standing side by side on a building popped up by the corner of the screen. And, lo and behold, there was a fucking broadcasting logo hovering over your face.

“Oh, for the love of fuck!” you whisper-yelled, throwing your hands up in frustrated defeat. “I swear they’ve got a boner for you, Bug Boy. Nevermind the amazing person standing RIGHT BESIDE HIM!”

Yunho shot you an amused glance before saying something that had your heart dropping to the floor. “Y/N… you just got your first superhero name.”

A queer feeling in your stomach twisted your insides around, and you slowly lowered your hands. Yunho could see the vivid hesitation splay out across your features, even in the dimly lit room.

“Hey, hey,” he scooted closer to you, comfort evident in his words. “This is a good thing, you know. Goldstorm sounds badass!”

You tucked your knees up to your chest, propping your chin up on your legs with a sigh. “It just sounds too official, you know? I can’t imagine people really truly depending on me. What if they one day call out for Goldstorm and I can’t help? I don’t know if I’m ready for that, Yunho.”

For a moment, Yunho remained silent and still, unsure of what to tell you.

“You’re never going to be ready,” he whispered. With befuddlement coloring your expression, you cracked your lips open to retort something sarcastic, but decided against it at the last second. “Being a superhero isn’t something you can just study and ace. Hell, I’ve been doing this schtick for years and I still don’t know what to do ninety percent of the time. You’re always going to doubt yourself; it’s what makes good superheroes good. And you’re going to be fine. Besides, you’ll have me. I’ll always be here for you.”

Hesitantly, you nodded and scooched closer to him on the couch, catching a whiff of his fresh lemon body wash. It wasn’t verbalized, but Yunho knew that that was your way of saying thank you (if you were mad, you would’ve either socked him in the face or bleached his hair a startling shade of orange while he was sleeping). You kept your eyes on the television screen, a slight frown tugging at your mouth upon seeing the broadcasting logo still hovering over your face.

And after a minute of comfortable silence, you spoke up with a lilt of amusement lacing your words, “Goldstorm is pretty sexy.”

A chuckle slipped past Yunho as he shook his head, reaching over to pick up your phone. “Hm, I guess we could look into turtle tanks the size of our bathroom. You know, to celebrate. But we’re not naming them Shelline Dion.”

“Fuck you, we’re naming our turtle Shelline Dion.”

Sighing, Yunho slung his arm over your shoulders, a wave of relief rolling over his shoulders when you didn’t pull away. “Fine, fine. Whatever you say, Goldstorm.”

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thecassadilla · 4 years

Text

A Scarf to Keep Him Warm

Pairing: New Dream/Rapunzel x Eugene

Word Count: 1,754/AO3

Summary: Rapunzel decides to take matters into her own hands when she notices that Eugene doesn’t have any wintertime accessories.

Author’s Note: Hi again! I still hate fall, but I wrote another New Dream fic so yay! I was able to write about a skill that Rapunzel and I both share in this one - knitting! Although this is a modern!AU, Rapunzel is a skilled knitter just like she is in the movie. Writing this fic made me want to knit something even though I’ve devoted all of my time to writing these days lol. Anyway, enjoy!!!

In the years since she’d met him, Rapunzel learned a lot about the man known as Eugene Fitzherbert. From his meticulous hair styling and grooming routine, to the way he took his coffee, and everything in-between.

But the one thing that she couldn’t quite understand was his lack of preparedness for the colder seasons. A chill formed in the air, and while Rapunzel had added a hat, gloves, and a scarf to her outdoor ensemble, Eugene hadn’t added anything. He simply wore a black leather jacket, his hands buried deep in the pockets when they were outside for a prolonged period of time.

The first winter they spent together, Rapunzel kept making the foolish assumption that he’d eventually add those missing pieces to his wardrobe. But soon, the air grew warm, and there was no longer a need for such accessories, and the assumption changed. Her new assumption was that he had a high tolerance for cold weather. Nonetheless, their pea coats and leather jackets were traded in for shorts and tank tops.

But the seasons are cyclical, and autumn eventually returned. On one particularly brisk October morning, Rapunzel and Eugene sat at his kitchen table, discussing the rapid change of weather.

“Just yesterday it was sixty-five degrees!” he griped, setting two steaming mugs of coffee onto the table. “Today? It’s forty degrees! Should I break out the shovel just in case there’s an unexpected blizzard tomorrow?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Rapunzel shrugged, cradling the mug between her hands and relishing in its warmth.

“I’m getting really tired of the seasons,” he moaned. “I want to move somewhere where the seasons never change. Somewhere tropical and sunny. I hate cold weather.”

“I see,” she remarked, furrowing her eyebrows together and placing her mug back on the table. She leaned back in her chair, pondering what he had just said, before proceeding with her query. “How come you never wear anything that keeps you warm?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t exactly wear clothing that keeps you warm during winter,” she explained. “I feel like if you wore a scarf or gloves, then the cold would be more tolerable.”

He sat still for a moment before answering, his face softening. “I never really had those things when I was growing up. So I guess I never really thought about buying them as an adult?”

“Eugene,” she cooed, reaching out and taking his hands in her own. “That’s awful. No wonder why you can’t stand the changing seasons - you suffer every time you go outside because you’re cold.”

“It’s really not a big deal, Sunshine,” he promised, averting his eyes. He was trying to downplay the situation. “I’m used to it. I’ll survive this winter, just like I survived the past twenty-three winters: with a bit of complaining, and my trusty old leather jacket.”

Rapunzel was not satisfied with his response. Why would he want to continue to suffer when the solution was so simple? So, she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. If he didn’t want to buy a scarf, she would make him one. It would be more expensive and labor-intensive than simply buying him a scarf, but it would be worth it.

Knitting was one of the many talents that she acquired, but never put to use. It wasn’t a particularly difficult hobby, and she was grateful that she’d finally be able to put her skills to work. The following day, she spent hours on the Internet, researching patterns and types of yarn before taking a trip to the craft store. She wandered for what felt like hours, picking up the supplies that she knew she needed - particularly, size eleven needles - and the supplies that she wanted. After consulting with the sales associate, and taking trips to a few other craft stores, she finally found the yarn she was looking for; skeins of dark grey cashmere. It would match his leather jacket, and it would be softer against his skin than wool. Finally satisfied, she returned home to her apartment and set off to work.

The pattern she chose was fairly simple, and nothing to fuss about; a simple two-by-two rib stitch pattern. She followed the pattern closely, casting on thirty-nine immaculate loops. Knit two, purl two, repeat. Row after row, she sat for hours under the soft glow of the floor lamp in her tiny, cozy living room. It was easy to keep going; her hands growing accustomed to the back and forth motion of the needles, and the constant pulling of the yarn. When she finally put the needles down and glanced at her cell phone, she realized exactly how much time had passed. Fifteen text messages from Eugene that had gone ignored. Instead of answering them she decided it would be easier to call him. He answered after a few rings.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he crooned, his voice low and gravelly.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“It’s alright,” he insisted, and he suddenly sounded much more awake than he did the minute before. “I dozed off on the couch. I’m glad you called, we didn’t get to talk much today.”

“Sorry about that,” she grimaced. “I was a little preoccupied.”

“No need to be sorry. You were busy.”

“I still should’ve checked in.”

“I’m just happy to hear your voice.” She could practically hear him smiling through the phone and she found herself blushing. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“No,” she sighed, glancing down at the project in her lap. “I have plans after work. Tuesday for sure, though.”

“Okay,” he said, softly. “I think I’m gonna head off to bed now.”

“Same here. My eyes are starting to burn.”

“Goodnight, Sunshine. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she smiled. “Sleep well, Eugene.”

Though, instead of making it to her bedroom, she settled back into the chair and slept there, too tired to move.

When she got back from work the next day, she settled into the same routine. Knitting and purling under the glow of her lamp until she finally felt satisfied with the length of the scarf. She began to bind off, making sure that the edges were even and perfect. When she finished the very last stitch, she rolled her shoulders back, releasing the tension that had built up while she was working on her project. She stood up, dropped the needles onto the chair and brought the scarf over to the mirror. She draped it over her own shoulders and around her neck, trying to picture what it would look like on Eugene.

She eventually took it off, and gently folded it so it would easily fit into her oversized purse, as the best way to catch him off guard was to not put his gift in a gift bag. And for the rest of the evening, she twiddled her thumbs and hoped that the clock would move faster so she could finally give the scarf to him.

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Rapunzel was buzzing with excitement by the time she finally made it to Eugene’s apartment, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to hide the scarf from him for long once she actually saw him. She knocked a few times before he answered.

He was already smiling when he opened the door. “Hey, Rapunzel.”

“Hi,” she said, walking into the tiny hallway. They shared a quick, but sweet ‘hello’ kiss before she shimmied out of her jacket and hung it on the coat rack. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

They had barely made it any further into his apartment before she nearly exploded with eagerness. “So, I have something for you,” she said, rocking back on her heels and clutching her purse in her hands. “Something I made.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “You have to close your eyes, though.”

“Okay,” he agreed, squeezing them shut.

“No peeking,” she warned.

He shook his head. “No peeking.”

Content with his promise, she reached into the bag and unraveled the scarf. Taking it in her hands, she dropped the purse on his coffee table and stepped closer to Eugene, balancing on her toes before loosely draping it around his neck. Her cold fingers gently brushed across his cheek as she created a single loop, adjusting it so each end of the scarf was even and flat against his chest. Smiling, she took a step back, satisfied with her work.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”

He did as he was told, and his eyes immediately darted down to the unfamiliar object that had been placed around his neck. A small smile appeared on his face and he gingerly took one end of the scarf in his hands, admiring the soft texture and the perfect stitches.

“You made this? For me?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

She nodded, her own lips creeping upwards. “That’s why I couldn’t see you yesterday. I wanted to finish it.”

“I don’t know what to say, Rapunzel,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away from her craftsmanship. “This is the most generous gift anyone has ever given me. Thank you.”

Before she could respond, he was pulling her into a hug, squeezing her as tightly as he could, and burying his face into her neck. “I didn’t want you to be cold this winter,” she explained.

“I didn’t even know that you knew how to knit,” he remarked, his voice muffled.

“I never mentioned it. It’s been a long time since I knit anything.”

He finally pulled away enough to look at her face. “I still don’t know what to say. I’m in shock.”

“I’m just glad that you like it.”

“How could I not like it? It’s so beautiful and thoughtful.”

“I could make you gloves, too. And a hat, if you want. The only thing that I can’t make you is a sweater because of the sweater curse.”

He looked puzzled. “The sweater curse?”

“It’s an old superstition. If you knit your significant other a sweater before you’re married, then the relationship will end.”

“Don’t do that,” he laughed, waving his hands. “No curses here, please.”

“No curses,” she promised.

“Thank you again, Rapunzel. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“You shouldn’t have to suffer through the cold weather, and I wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t,” she smiled. “I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

Without any hesitation, he took her back in his arms, both of them as safe and warm as could be.

#new dream #rapunzel x eugene #rapunzel #eugene fitzherbert #tangled #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled the series #tangled fanfiction #tangled fic #my writing

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veeeffvee · 4 years

Text

In Memory (a Ghost and Pals fanfiction)

Word count: 3019

Summary: [TW: Mentions of occult practices, discussions about death and loss, brief mention of suicide.] After a hard day's work of maintenance, a young groundskeeper encounters a strange man in a cemetery. As the boy strikes up a conversation with the visitor, he quickly finds that this mysterious man only leaves him with more questions than answers.

A/N: And now for something completely different! This story is based off of an ic post I made as Christopher on my rp blog. Enjoy!

People say that I'm superstitious.

And you know what? They're not entirely wrong!

I've always been known as the weird, spooky kid in town. I'm the kid that parents tell their children to stay away from. I'm the kid that's rumored to have a dark past, with creepy hobbies. I'm the kid who, as far as anyone knows, probably does witchcraft or voodoo or something sketchy like that.

But that's not true at all! Sure, I like ghosts and "cursed" objects and scary places, but that's where it stops! I just like scary things! I don't actually think any of it is real! What, are horror fans suddenly equal to occultists now? That's not very fair to say, don't you think??

Although, I'll have to admit, I do believe in ghosts. In fact, I've seen quite a lot of them, and the rituals that I've done to summon them actually do work! Yet despite people's suspicions of me, nobody believes me when I say that!

But you know what? I'm pretty sure that I've seen one just recently, without the help of a ritual! At least… I think I did? I mean, the whole scenario seemed weird when I stopped to think about it afterwards, so… maybe you can give me a second opinion? Maybe? That would be nice, because I'm not actually a hundred percent sure myself.

So yeah, here's the story. Lemme know what you think of this...

It happened right before my shift ended at work, just as dusk rolled around. I work as a groundskeeper at a graveyard, which is, yeah, a weird job for a twelve-year-old kid to have, but it pays pretty well! And besides, I like hanging out at graveyards, so I'm also being paid to be where I like to be! So ha!

But anyway, back to the story: it was right when the sun was about to set when I finished my duties. I had tended the flowers, dusted off a bunch of the graves, and tidied up the mausoleums. A fine day's work, if I do say so myself! I had started during the late afternoon and finished right before nighttime, because people usually visit during the day. Doing things that way leaves me more room to work, you know?

And so there I was, carrying my trusty shovel back to my tool shack, when suddenly, for whatever reason, I spotted a visitor entering through the cemetery gates! And I think, Huh, visiting hours are almost over. Why would someone come here so late?

Still in thought, I decided to stand there and see where they were going. I'm not creepy, I swear! It's just that sometimes people come for a tour of the graveyard, and that just so happens to be my second job. Plus, it would be awful if they got lost in the cemetery, right? I could lose my job because of that. And also, I couldn't have something like that on my conscience; I'm only twelve!

Since I was standing still, they didn't notice me as they walked past, but I got a good look at them. Whoever this stranger was, they dressed really formally. Like, with a bow tie and everything. From what I've seen, people don't usually visit while wearing super fancy clothes unless the death was recent, so at that moment, I kinda felt bad for them.

That is, until I noticed their hair? And skin?? I'm not kidding when I say this: they were pure white! Like, paper white! I've seen pale people before, but this wasn't albinism, this was something else! I guessed then that maybe it wasn't real hair, and they were just wearing makeup. But the question was why?! With those formal clothes and in a cemetery of all places, who makes the decision to look like that?

So, super interested in this person now, I began to follow them. I made sure to be extra quiet as I trailed behind them, ducking behind graves and bushes whenever I needed to. Easier said than done while carrying a shovel, but I think I managed. They didn't turn around a single time! Haha!

A few minutes passed, and eventually they stopped at a particular grave. It was at the end of one of the many rows of graves, in fact. I peered over the tombstone I was hiding behind in order to see what the visitor was doing.

To my surprise, they were just… standing there. Staring. At the grave.

They didn't break down, cry, or even bow their head in sorrow. That's what I'm used to seeing. That's the normal reaction to visiting a grave of someone you knew. Sadness, despair—heck, even frustration would have made sense. But no, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. They didn’t even say a word.

Another while passed, and they were still standing there. I started to wonder if maybe they were praying quietly or something, but their hands weren't clasped together. So that possibility was ruled out. Maybe they were just lost in thought? That would make sense. But if someone's lost in thought for this long, then it's a little worrying. And so I started to get worried.

After another moment of hesitation, I stepped out from behind the tombstone and tried to casually make it back to the path, acting as if I were walking on it this whole time. I called out, "Uh, excuse me?"

The stranger jolted, startled out of their thoughts. They turned to face me, and I saw that they were holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand. "Yes?" they answered.

(I also noticed that their voice was rather masculine, so from now on, I'll be referring to the visitor as a he. Don't ask why, I just have a feeling. And besides, the end of this story kinda gave me a hint, so…)

I realized then that I didn't exactly have anything to say. Nothing that would lead into a normal conversation, anyway. So I decided to switch into Work Mode, pointing to the setting sun behind me with my thumb. "Sorry, but it's getting late, sir. Visiting hours are almost over."

For a second, the visitor looked annoyed. Then, after putting on a more neutral expression, he sighed. "Right, well… I'll be just a moment. Please give me a few minutes, at least," he replied. His voice sounded tired.

"Yeah, sure," I said, because saying anything else would be super rude and messed up.

He looked back towards the grave after that, falling silent once more. Feeling curious (and slightly more brave, now that I'd revealed myself), I approached the stranger. He didn't look at me as I came closer, and I took the opportunity to subtly glance over at the name engraved onto the tombstone.

And my eyes widen.

Because I know about this one.

I mean listen, it's not my business to pry or anything, but if you've worked in a graveyard for as long as I have, and you see a few tombstones here and there everyday with titles in-between the dead people's names, you'd want to know where they got them! And so you ask questions to a bunch of locals! And hear some really cool stories!

So yeah, I'm surprised to find out that this guy might be related to a story character, and I'm really excited. But I still had to be respectful, so barely containing my excitement, I calmly asked, "Were you related to him?"

The stranger almost smiled at my question. But for some reason, he stopped himself, keeping his expression guarded. "In a sense, yes," he said, his tone even.

That answer only made it more difficult to curb my enthusiasm. I was so happy that I was practically hugging my shovel at this point. "Really? Then do you know about the story?" I continued eagerly.

He gave me a confused look. "Story? What story?"

My excitement faltered. "You don't know?"

"No. What exactly have you heard?"

And then it picked back up. "Oh, well, first off, this story's pretty old. So—”

That’s when I told him the dead guy’s story. A story about a man with the ability to change his appearance with the help of a mirror. A story about a man whose beautiful appearance did not match his personality; a man who was manipulative and hurtful towards everyone around him. And in the end, the mirrors turned him into a monster, revealing to the world what he truly was inside.

As I spoke, I studied the visitor for his reactions. But to my surprise, he barely reacted at all! His expression was totally unreadable as he listened to me. Just… completely blank. I wasn't sure what to think of it. Once I had finished telling the story, there was a moment of silence. The whole time, I continued to stare at the stranger, but he didn't notice. He seemed lost in thought once more, probably processing the story in his head.

Then he said, "That's completely wrong."

I jumped in surprise. "What?! Really??"

"Yes. The story is full of errors."

"It is?" I asked. Then I thought about it for a moment. Not only did I leave out some parts, but who knows a story better than someone who apparently knew a character from it? I felt sheepish. "Well… I guess I did forget some things. What parts did I get wrong?"

The man averted his gaze, waving his hand dismissively. "It would take too long to list them all. Just tell whoever you heard the story from that they're wrong. It would save us both the trouble if you did just that."

That's a lot of sources. And therefore, a lot of talking and correcting that I had to do. And not only that, but I would need to find these people all over again?? I slumped in defeat, thinking of all of the work ahead of me. "Aw man."

He quirked a brow at my reaction. And then he chuckled. “Well, if it’s that many people, I suppose you don’t have to tell everyone. At least a few, then; that should be enough. I would appreciate it if they were corrected as soon as possible, that’s all. The story is very… personal to me, you see.”

I thought about that for a minute. Then I hummed in acknowledgement. I wanted to ask more questions, but it seemed that whoever this was, he wasn’t willing to tell me more about the real version of the story. Which was strange, because he seemed very adamant about correcting the errors in my version, but whatever. I decided not to push it. You can only say so much in a conversation with a complete stranger, after all.

...Hmm, I thought.

Turning the shovel around in my hands, I dug it into the dirt below, straightening it up before allowing it to stand by itself. It was tiring me out, carrying that. The shovel came up to about shoulder height compared to me, which was pretty convenient whenever I wanted to lean on it. And lean on it I did, resting my chin on my hands atop the base of the tool.

"Right, personal…" I said breezily. Smiling, I tipped my head to the side. "That's why you know so much about it, right?"

The man frowned. "Yes. Do you doubt me?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "Nah, I believe you. Only someone who knew the guy personally somehow would visit his grave. Although, it's a little weird, now that I think about it…" I trailed off.

He narrowed his eyes skeptically. "How so?"

"Well, like I said, the guy was basically evil. That's one thing that all of the stories had in common. Another was that he had a connection to mirrors and appearances. But you are right about some versions having inconsistencies."

That seemed to interest him. "Oh?"

I grinned, happy that I could keep him on this topic, despite his reluctance to talk about it. "Yeah, the endings were different every time. Some say that he turned into a monster in the end. Others say he killed himself. One ending says that he isolated himself in his house forever. And then there's this rumor going around that he haunts a local mansion."

I blew a raspberry, rolling my eyes. "But if you ask me? My guess is that he was either killed by someone else, or he actually did kill himself. Those just make the most sense, all things considered."

The visitor gaped at me, utterly bewildered at my words. The look on his face almost made me laugh again. "I'm sorry, how old are you?" he demanded.

"Twelve."

"Twelve?" he echoed, incredulous. "And you're saying things like this? What are you even doing in a cemetery?"

I stared pointedly down at my shovel. "I work here. I'm the groundskeeper."

That seemed to make him even more confused. I wonder what confused him more: my morbid comments, or the fact that I have a job at my age. I guess at the moment, I kinda forgot what is and isn't proper to say in conversations. Whoops! But anyway, because of me, the man struggled for a moment to find his words.

I decided to spare him the effort, since that was mostly my fault. Closing my eyes, I continued, "Well, whatever the ending, I'm glad he was stopped early on with what he was doing. I'm pretty sure that all of the stories mention that he died young, which is kinda good, as awful as that sounds. That means that he can't hurt anyone anymore."

"...I doubt that."

I opened my eyes, finding that the visitor had turned back toward the grave. He had an odd expression on his face this time. It might have been a trick of the light, but I could have sworn that he was smirking.

I tentatively asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well," he began, eerily casual, "people can still have an effect on others even after death. Lasting effects. Damaging effects. Wouldn't you agree?"

I paused to let that sink in. That… did make sense, I eventually reasoned. "I guess so," I answered slowly. Uneasily. "People get hurt by grief all the time, especially right after someone dies."

I was sure that my answer was correct, but the man shook his head, his smirk easing into a smile. "No, I didn't mean like that."

I furrowed my brow, confused by his attitude. "Then could you explain, please?"

He chuckled again, lowering his gaze. He was silent for a moment. His hand tightened around the bouquet, and a strange, dark look suddenly appeared on his face. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "Whenever someone dies, some say that traces of the dead still linger. Like a ghost. Watching. Waiting. And with their presence, they influence the life around them; the life that they no longer have, little by little. And they never truly leave."

I blinked a couple of times, eyebrows raised. I honestly didn't expect him to say something meaningful like that. And he was kinda right, if you think about it. I've never lost anyone close to me, but I've seen the effect that death can have on other people over time. I knew that lots of folks can spend weeks grieving over those they've lost. And sure, people eventually move on, but many choose to return to their grief, either out of kindness or obligation. I mean, why else do people visit cemeteries?

Then I began to think: why would this man visit the grave of someone like him? What connection did he have to him? Was he a distant relative? A friend of a friend? A more invested fan of the story? If so, then how can his death affect him that badly? Just... why?

These were all questions that I knew I couldn't exactly ask.

A while passed. I realized way too late that I was supposed to say something in response. I stuttered for a bit, uselessly trying and failing to say anything significant. However, before I could come up with anything, the stranger cut me off, pleasantly saying with another smile:

"But I'm not superstitious. So what do I know?"

And with that, he finally set the bouquet down on the grave. I noted the choice of flowers: purple hyacinths and orange orchids. (I need to remember to look up the meanings of those later.) The man then turned to leave, walking past me once again on the pathway.

I watched him walk a little ways away from me, and I frowned. Didn't even bother to say goodbye. Geez.

Standing upright, I looked towards the grave. Then towards the flowers. Then to the grave again. And then quickly back at the visitor.

I called out, "Wait!"

He stopped, sparing an uninterested glance toward me. "Yes?"

The man must have seen my conflicted expression as soon as he turned around, because he smiled once more, looking amused out of all things. I gritted my teeth. What was with this guy? He knew what he was doing, didn’t he? With the way he spoke during our conversation… those hints weren’t coincidental; they were dropped on purpose, weren’t they?

Oh, that was so annoying to think about. He probably thought he was clever, making me as puzzled as I was at that moment. I had to get straight answers, but judging by how he was unwilling to discuss the story in detail, it was unlikely that I was going to get any. But at the very least, I absolutely needed to clear up one suspicion that I’ve had since the start of all this.

And so I cautiously asked, "Why… why would you leave flowers for such a terrible person?"

A pause. He appeared to consider this, and we stared at each other as he mulled it over. Then he faced forward again, continuing on his walk. As he did, he said something that surprised me; something that still bugs me to this day:

"I just thought he'd like them."

#ghost and pals #ghostie p #marz mitzi #the distortionist #dance with the dead #fanfic #madness-within-the-mirror

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overworkedunderwhelmed · 6 years

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Chills

Chapter 3: Snowed In

Nino was sure he must be going crazy.

He was used to all of the organized chaos of siblings and noisy neighbors, the general hustle and bustle of Paris. But all of this silence and the loneliness felt jarring.

There were lots of old stairs that creaked, and windows that didn’t fully seal in old houses like this one. It added to the general unease he’d felt since he arrived.

The fact that he was busy writing a horror script only helped his mind run wild, and so he channeled every errant fear into a new piece of action or suspense for his story.

It really wasn’t like he needed to worry, though. He’d diligently checked all the doors and windows each night.

And also, he reasoned, it wouldn’t be nearly as bad in a few days, once everyone arrived to help with the last of the setup ahead of the shoot.

But for now, coping meant keeping his headphones on perpetually. It was an awful drain on the batteries, such that he had to keep alternating sets to keep them charged. The sound echoed through the house when he’d tried to play anything on his computer speakers, and the acoustics just never sounded right to his ear.

He’d called Adrien -- more than a few times, really -- just to keep himself from going crazy all alone out here. But his friend just assured him that everything was in hand and that everyone would be arriving in two days.

Which was great, except for the fact that this region had just gotten one of the worst snowfalls in decades. He’d faced the cold and attempted to clear the snow from the property. Well, at least from the driveway.

As he worked, the snow kept falling. And although he had his trusty beats keeping him company and keeping him motivated, the sheer amount of time he was outside meant that his headset was once again drained of battery. He had a second set that was inside charging, but it didn’t help when he was still outside, halfway through the latest pass of digging out from under all this snow. At least he was close enough to finish this stretch.

Exhaling a breath into the chilly air fogged up his glasses, and the visceral crunch of snow beneath his feet filled his now bare ears. He paused to rest a moment as he thought about the additional hassle snow could bring.

Thankfully, he had brought enough food and dry goods to last for a few days. He didn’t want to even imagine having to leave the house in weather like this. With any luck, the roads would be clear soon, and then he’d need to hit the small grocery in town again to stock up before everyone else arrived.

He could only hope that the snow wouldn’t keep everyone away for an extra few days.

By the time he ducked back inside, another few inches had buried what little progress he had managed to make.

And there was still more of the storm yet to come.

Shivering through a sigh, Nino shed his coat and hat, still heavy from the wet snow.

It didn’t help that this house was far larger than anything he’d been in before, so the yard was just as massive. He was used to shoveling a few meters of the walkway and wasn’t entirely prepared to push through twenty times as much.

He bent down to pick up the wet clothes, his shoulders aching from the small bit of effort…

Nino sighed. He would love nothing more than to curl up and sleep for a few hours. But if he wanted to be done on time, he really needed to get back to the script and get a few solid hours of polish on it.

Snagging a cup of cocoa from the kitchen to help him warm up, he moved back upstairs.

Nino had drained the cup as soon as the warm liquid was cool enough not to scald his tongue, but the caffeine only kept him going for a little over an hour.

With a weary groan, he plopped back onto the middle of the bed, not even budging the comforter. His hat tipped off of his head, but he was a little too tired to even care at the moment.

He was stuck in the middle of rewriting everything. It had started with what seemed like minor changes to the staging, and porting the timeframe back. But even just adjusting for a few decades had proven to be far more of a challenge than he’d expected.

He’d thought to recruit help through the internet, but the snow had obliterated any hopes of that. The connection had been spotty at best, and the data connection on his phone was only good in a few sections of the house.

Nino shut his eyes, scrubbing his hands over his face. Really, he needed an editor, but the only one who had already seen the script was Adrien.

However, with his friend still in the midst of finals -- and considering how much he was already arranging -- Nino felt guilty about the prospect of asking anything more of him.

When he opened his eyes again, it was dark. Nino didn’t remember falling asleep, but he shouldn’t have been surprised after trying to clear the entire driveway on his own.

Shaking his head, he stood up to find the light switch and settled himself back behind the still-glowing screen.

Staring at the words for days on end had left them mostly ingrained in his mind.

Nino frowned, scrolling down the page. For some reason now, they were just a little different.

He dialed the phone, pulling up Facetime.

Adrien’s answer was half muffled into a yawn.

“Did you edit my script?”

“Huh?” Adrien mumbled, mussing his hair where it fell against his pillow. “Nope. I have one last final that I was studying for tomorrow afternoon. But I can check it over after I get home tomorrow.” He peered offscreen. “Well… tonight now, I guess. And probably after I take a nap, too.”

Nino’s eyes narrowed as he looked back to the screen. “I’m… not sure that I’m going to need it, dude.”

“Huh?”

“The document is edited.” Nino shook his head, brows furrowed. "But I didn't know where these edits came from."

“You don’t?” Adrien blinked.

Navigating through the revision history, Nino frowned.

Adrien snorted, humor lighting up his eyes. "You have a ghostwriter? Well. I guess that would be a ghost-editor, wouldn’t it?”

"Not likely.” Nino sighed. “I mean... I guess it is possible that I did it earlier, and just forgot. I did have glass of wine with dinner. And a bit of cocoa after I came in from shoveling the drive… but even with all the extra exercise, I'm not usually that much of a lightweight."

Adrien shook his head. “Hmmm. Well, if you think you’re okay, I need to get back to sleep.”

Nino nodded. “Sure, man.”

“Take it easy.”

Standing up, Nino stretched his arms over his head. Even if he was drained, he should still get the dishes cleaned up.

As he reached to collect the mug, it slipped away from his fingers, hovering in mid-air.

Nino’s eyes boggled, staring at the empty space below the mug.

The space around the mug seemed to shift, and as something slowly took shape… he began to make out the slim, tan fingers laced through the white handle.

A compellingly haunting voice echoed through the room. “I’m afraid your friend is right.”

Gaping, Nino acted quickly, picking up his phone to record. “Can you do that again?”

The voice just chuckled. “Usually this is the point where everyone runs away.”

“No way, Lady.” Nino pressed his lips into a thin line, shaking his head furiously. “My friend is spending way too much money on helping me out for me to bail out now.”

“Lady, hmm?” The voice purred gleefully. “Well, at least you’re being polite about it. And you have been keeping my house clean. What is it that you wanted me to do?”

Nino tilted his head, lifting the phone into place. “Can you fade again?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“And lift the mug up?”

The mug rose up a few inches, hovering above the desk.

Carefully, Nino circled around the desk, getting a few seconds of footage before pocketing his phone. “You’ve been here all along, haven’t you?”

The curve of her lips was one of the first things he could make out as the mug carefully settled back onto the desk. The rest of her slowly appeared-- a hazy form seated upon the desk, dark arms folded over the white cloth covering her chest. She peered back at him. “What do you think?”

Nino gulped, flattening his lips into a thin line as he paced the room. “I think so. I think you’ve been moving around some little things. I was so sure I put something down in one place, only to have it a bit further out of reach.”

Her gaze trained on him, her voice a little more substantial as her image regained form, the soft curls at her shoulders shifted slightly as she followed his path. “Mmmhmm.”

Nino bit his lip nervously, his hand dragging over the day's worth of stubble. “And I think you just made edits to the script on my computer.”

She smirked, mischief plain in her amber eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” Nino grumbled, his hand dropping aimlessly back to his side. “In all honesty, they’re good. Between that and your ability to go invisible, I honestly wish I could hire you.”

Her brows rose sharply at that. “Then why don’t you?”

#djwifi #djwifi2018 #Ghost!Alya AU #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #adrien agreste

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peace-coast-island · 5 years

Text

Diary of a Junebug

Denim gyroid hunt!

I’m back with Jamie, Sandi, Em, Dell, DJ, and Lea on another gyroid hunt! Instead of a heist, it’s actually more of a scavenger hunt. Along with searching for gyroids, we’re also kind of taking it easy. It’s more like a vacation, if anything.

So we’re in the town of Willa Creek, which kinda reminds me of Wizpire except a lot more woodsier. Turns out Isabelle’s friends with the mayor there. Now that I think about it, a lot of Isabelle’s friends are mayors and/or campsite managers…

Around this area, denim gyroids pop up every other year. Since it’s a big forest and Willa Creek’s a small town, the villagers there are more than happy to let visitors browse the forest for gyroids. They even set up trails and guides as well as fun and informative signs to make things a bit more fun!

I’ve never done anything like this before so it’s kinda exciting. Jamie went to a gyroid hunt once years ago and has been meaning to come back when she has time. As for Sandi and her gang, Em said that they were in need of a bit of a vacation. Sandi disagreed as they have been taking it easy this past year with their only major heist in almost two years being the jelly gyroid retrieval mission not too long ago.

On one hand I can understand where Sandi’s coming from, feeling out of whack and unproductive after experiencing setbacks and being unable to get back into the swing of things like before. She’s not one to sit still and not do something. But at the same time she shouldn’t push herself too hard. And she definitely should not punish herself for something that was completely out of her hands. Now she considers herself 90% recovered from being sick, though it looks like the partial hearing loss is permanent.

Another reason why Em pushed the gang to come is because DJ needed to get out more. They don’t really see her in person often since DJ doesn’t need to leave her room as she’s the hacker. She only goes out when there’s no option and although she loves working with the gang, she’s not a fan of running around, being in planes, all the heavy lifting as she put it. And in the few times she was with the gang in person during missions, something usually goes wrong. Like the robot fiasco when we were searching for jelly gyroids. Hopefully since this isn’t a heist, things will go smoothly.

Turns out Lea’s partner at the special task force used to live in the city nearby Willa Creek. They also happened to be staying in a hotel in the city for a short vacation before flying over to Brighthouse Grove for a case. Em, who always wanted to go on a gyroid hunt, felt like the timing was perfect for a trip. The original plan was to meet up with him tomorrow when we go sightseeing in the city but it looks like there’s been a slight change. Lea said she suspected something was off yesterday when she noticed he wasn’t yapping his mouth off and arguing with her like usual, so she wasn’t too surprised when he texted her that he wasn’t feeling well this morning. Work’s been kinda hectic lately, so maybe her partner getting sick is probably a sign that she really needs a break.

Willa Creek isn’t hard to find, especially with the gyroids being a big giveaway. Many of them are hanging from trees or half buried in the ground. Luckily I have my trusty gold shovel from my fossil hunting days in Wizpire. Jamie has hers too, along with a few extras for the others. We’ve also got bags and a wheelbarrow - and a wagon in the camper as well if we need it.

We had the day planned out so we spend half the day gyroid hunting and sightseeing. Basically we alternated about an hour an a half for each activity, which was more than enough time to do a lot without feeling overwhelmed. It was so much fun!

I don’t know which I liked more - finding gyroids in unlikely places or digging them up like buried treasure! Willa Creek’s also a very nice town to visit, especially during this time of year. After a fun filled day like today, I’m looking forward to a good night’s rest at the hotel surrounded by denim gyroids!

junebug|previous|ao3|next

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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yukiwrites · 6 years

Text

Morgan, Blending In

Thank you so much for commissioning me again, @xpegasusuniverse! I’m really glad with this one came out, so I hope you like it! :D

Summary: Morgan managed to follow her brother Owain to Valla and, under the alias of Linfan, now tries to blend in with the people of that strange and new world on her own Morgan-like way!

Commission info HERE and HERE!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

After Morgan, now Linfan, was accepted in Corrin's army, not much apart from fighting happened -- or rather, could happen. That place called Valla was crawling with enemies, to the point that even the people keeping watch at night had to be armed to the teeth since they would most certainly fight a battle or two before the sun came up.

That upside-down world was vast and hard to travel -- they had to make sure they stepped on the right bridges after the area had been scouted by flying units. It seemed like their guide, some Anthony fellow, wasn't very well liked amongst the entirety of the army, so Morgan's arriving right after Anthony’s made things a bit complicated to her side, or at least they should be.

"COMBINED..." She took a deep breath, holding her Thoron tome with one hand, the other one pointing to the sky.

"SIBLING ATTACK!" Odin yelled at the same time Linfan did, they tomes' magical powers swirling around them before exploding at the group of enemies right ahead. "YEAH! That was soo cool, Linfan!"

"Heehee, that was actually fun, Brother!" The siblings shared a high-five. "And since this place is crawling with those things, we can try out a lot of different magic!"

Odin had to hold his cursed hand in an extravagant gesture. "Yess! That's what I'm talking about! This is the place where we can truly use our full powers!"

"With my trusty Thoron, no enemy shall be left standing!" Linfan winked, doing a side peace sign over one eye. Odin almost shed a tear of pride. Finally... finally someone who understood and enjoyed his antics!

"... Don't you guys feel any shame?" Selena approached, her battle stance completely drained up due to second-hand embarrassment. "This isn't a joke, you know! They're here to kill us!"

"You wound me, silver-tongued maiden! This is serious business, I'll have you know! Isn't that right, Lin-"

Linfan giggled, "why don't you try it too, Selena? It's so silly, it's fun!"

"LINFAN!" Odin fell on his knees. "Betrayed... by my own blood..."

"Hah! I knew Linfan wouldn't let me down like that." Selena nodded, putting one hand by her hip.

From their posts, Corrin and Leo observed the interchange, both of them smiling at differing scales. "It's really lively out there, isn't it?" Corrin commented after felling the last enemy at their premises.

Leo sneered. "Humph. It's like we got another Odin; I got my work cut out for me."

The dragon prince scratched the back of his head. "Haha, I'm sorry for dumping her on you, Leo. But I thought that since she's Odin's sister, making both of them be deployed side by side would be better for her to fit in faster..."

"Please, don't apologize for that, Brother." Leo dismissed Corrin's worry with an uninterested wave of hand. "She is... a bit too eager for my tastes, but I AM used to having the most eager one, after all." He bobbed his head. "Besides, her talent for magic is real. So much that even by looking at her from this far I can still feel her inane power, waiting to explode. Very intriguing."

Corrin smiled. He knew how much his little brother loved to talk about magic, AND how competitive he was. He would probably push himself harder so as not to 'lose' to Linfan. "Just don't overdo it, okay?" He let out part of his thoughts, making Leo raise one eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, um, why don't you go talk to her, then? This can be a great opportunity to make new friends!"

"Hah, hear yourself, Brother." Leo scoffed, urging his horse to move. "I'm simply interested in her potential for combat, not in to suddenly invite her to our inner circle. Come, let's rendezvous with Camilla." He extended his hand to Corrin, who promptly took it so as to mount on the horse.

"Alright, but I still think that you two would get along if you wanted!"

"Yeah, yeah."

At the same time, Linfan, Odin and Selena arrived at the camp after clearing out their position. For the past few days, Laslow has been deployed far from Linfan, surely Xander's way of saying he didn't trust her yet.

At the entrance, Linfan unconspiscously looked at all sides, squinting as though she wanted to see something invisible. "Do you think he's here now?"

"Yikes," Selena shivered, "are you looking for ghosts or something? Aren't the invisible enemies we fight everyday enough?"

Without missing a beat, Linfan looked at the other side. "No, I mean the guy who likes masks Lord Corrin told us about."

"Oh." Both Selena and Odin cleared their throats, ever aware that the ninja could be anywhere around them at any moment. "If you keep being indiscreet like that, he'll stick around even longer!" The mercenary said, slapping her friend's back.

Linfan's eyes sparkled. "Will he?! Maybe this time he'll actually fall into one of my traps!"

Odin snorted. "You never even got Father to fall for them, Linfan!"

The apprentice tactician puffed her cheeks. "Well, YOU did."

Selena pointed and laughed as Odin retorted. "I was indulging my own blood, a-alright? The sacred vow of heroes always tells us to be kind to our kin!"

Morgan put one hand over her chin, her eyes wide in thought. "Will I have to marry him, then...?"

"WHAT? NO!" Both mage and mercenary yelled, slapping her shoulders. "Mor-Linfan, we need to play nice here, you understand? Stop digging these stupid pitfalls!"

"B-b-b-b-but," her voice trembled as Selena aggressively shook her, "but what if I dig deep enough that I can see the sky from below? I need to find out!"

"Linfan!" Odin exclaimed, making both women shut up in shock, the random passerby also staring unbelieving. "Don't do anything reckless, please..." He held her hand. "I won't bear if anything happens to you."

Feeling a bit guilty but also nostalgic, Linfan smiled. "That brings back memories, heehee." She brought Odin's hand to her face. "Sorry for worrying you, Brother; but it's going to be okay! This time, I won't bang a tome on my head or walk around looking up instead of down. I just want to catch him!"

"Aaand we're back at where we started." Selena groaned. "Listen here, Linfan..." She pulled her friend as they walked, leaving Odin behind.

He didn't follow out of pure shock, since Morgan had spoke not only of a new memory they made, but of an older memory of when they were children: She had the habit of looking up to the birds and clouds when she was very small, to she always hit her nose on trees, posts and walls, to the point of Owain needing to hold her hand at all times whenever they walked.

The feeling from way back then flourished inside his heart, making a relaxed smile sprout on his lips. She remembered more each day, and also learned more and more about their lives in this new world.

She would be fine. Sure, not without supervision, but would be fine nonetheless.

The sun took a lot longer than usual to set in that strange world since the sky was upward and downward as well, which only made it even more interesting! What would happen if Morgan started digging a pitfall during the sunset over her head while it was still bright under her feet? Would she be able to catch a glimpse of the blue sky all the while having the stars shining on her head? She simply had to find out!

And no, watching the sunset at the edge of an island did not cross Morgan's mind, nor would it: She was so focused on digging during dusk that she lost track of time. Although it was still clear out, she had dug so deep she leaned on the wall to catch a breather.

It was then that she looked up. "Oh, wow, that's my new record! Someone's REALLY gonna hurt themselves if they fall. Look at the sky wayyy up there, just a tiny round bit." A few moments of rest later, she placed one closed hand over her open palm. "Oh! I'm stuck!"

Laughing, Morgan slid down the wall to sit on the wet earth. "Heeheehaha! That's a first! I didn't know this island was so deep, whoops!" After calming down her giggles, she took a deep breath. "Welp, let's come up with a plan to get out of here! I won't disappoint you, Father!"

Morgan looked on her person for something that could help her up: her levin sword, her Thoron tome, a carving knife, a few samples of masks she always kept on a pouch and the shovel she was using to dig. "Aw, if I had brought a wind tome instead, I could fly myself out of this hole." She crossed her legs, looking at the items in front of her, trying to come up with a connection. "Father, I barely started and I already failed you... how can an aspiring tactician NOT walk around with a rope? This will haunt me to the grave!"

More worried about her lack of preparation than her own situation, Morgan kept thinking by herself, as the sky darkened and the temperature dropped. She didn't notice the time pass by, mind, since she was too busy thinking of what her father would do if he were in her shoes. Faraway whispers could be heard from above a long time later, breaking her concentration.

"Look, Sakura! The sky is soooo bright because of all the stars!" Princess Elise twirled around herself, pulling the shy hoshidan princess with her so they could watch the stars under that big tree over the hill.

"N-not even in Hoshido did they shine so brightly," Sakura commented, huffing to accompany the eager princess. By her own nature, Sakura always walked looking down -- in contrast with Elise, who always looked up -- so she noticed a big enough hole to swallow them both approaching at a fast pace as Elise happily dragged her. "P-Princess Elise, watch out!" She pulled her friend back with all she had, making both of them roll away from the hole.

"Wah- Oof!" Elise fell on the grass right beside the enormous hole that was simply there in front of the tree they were going to watch the stars under. "Whoaa! We could've really hurt ourselves there! Thank you so much, Sakura!"

The hoshidan princess sat up, patting the dirt out of her white clothes. "O-of course... I'm glad you're alright, Elise."

"Weh? Is someone up there? Heeey!" Both princesses heard a voice from below.

"KYAA!" Sakura shrieked, hugging Elise with everything she had. "G-g-g-ghosts?!"

"Whoa!" Elise laughed, bending towards the hole. "Ghosts? From this hole? Helloooo?"

"Oh, there really was someone!" Morgan got up, fastening her sword and tome back at her belt. "You're Lady Elise, right? I can barely make out your face since it's so dark, haha!" She opened her hand, channeling the thunder from her tome to her fingers, lighting the hole she was in. "Do you happen to have a wind tome with you? I'm a bit stuck in here!"

"O-oh, so it was a real person..." Sakura breathed out in relief. "A-are you okay? You fell down from such height..."

"Oh, no, I dug this! Impressive, isn't it?"

"Oh, wow!" Elise put one hand over her mouth, her hair dangling beside her face as she popped her head into the hole. "You did all this? Amazing! But what's this 'wind' tome you speak of? I never heard of it!"

"Oh, so they don't have wind tomes in this world? Whoops..." Linfan bit her tongue with a smile, thanking the heavens that her brother wasn't there to scold her.

"What was that? I didn't catch it!" Elise yelled, lying down at the edge.

"Um, if you don't have it, then it's okay! Do you happen to have a rope or something? I think I can work with that!"

"D-don't you think we should get help, Elise? We shouldn't be having such a leisure talk while she's in such predicament!" Sakura gripped at her friend's sleeve, worried about the new girl.

"Oh, yeah! Wait here, Linfan! We'll call for help!" Elise sat up.

"Oh, no, no, no! Please, no!" Linfan laughed nervously. "If my brother and friends find out, I'll be in deep trouble! I need to get out of this on my own."

"B-but what can we do? I don't think both of us can pull you out by ourselves..."

"Oof, yeah, I can barely flex without getting tired." Elise concurred, feeling sympathetic to Linfan since she, too, didn't like getting in trouble with her siblings. "Maybe if I call my brother? Leo's super good with magic; he can think of a way to get you out of there!"

"L-Lord Leo? Oh no, if he finds out, so will my brother!"

Elise deflated. "Oh, yeah..."

"U-um, maybe my sister Hinoka can help? She's strong, so she'll be able to pull you out in no time!"

Linfan put her free hand on her chin in thought. "Hmm... And she's hoshidan, right? There's no need for her to be a snitch to the nohrians..."

"I-I don't know about 'being a snitch', but Big Sister Hinoka is responsible and strong! I'll bring her here!" Sakura got up too fast for her own legs to follow, her feet wobbling as they tried to get a proper foothold.

They found none, as she was too close to the hole. Elise widened her eyes and yelled a "watch out!!" as Sakura felt the ground slip away from her.

Morgan closed her eyes, scooting to the side to give Sakura room to fall, but she never did. When she looked up, the princess was safe on a ninja's arms.

"Hah... For how long will you two keep this up?" Saizo groaned, putting his princess on the ground. "I won't stand idly if you endanger Lady Sakura any more than this."

"S-Saizo!" Sakura managed to let out her voice. "T-thank you, thank you, thank you so much..." She trembled as Elise breathed out in relief.

"Pheew! That was a close one! Thanks a bunch, Saizo!"

The ninja glared at the nohrian princess, then downwards to the foreigner. "How long do you plan on staying there, woman?"

"Oh no! MASK! IT'S THE WRONG TYPE!!" Linfan yelled, the sparkle on her hand getting out of control and spiraling upwards before flashing out. "I thought it'd be covering the eyes, not the mouth!"

The ninja sighed deeply, getting tired of watching that girl run around in her own little world and staying stuck inside a pitfall for hours.

"P-please, help her out of there, Saizo..." Sakura grasped at his scarf.

Once again did the ninja sigh and, faster than the eye could see, he jumped into the hole, surprising all three princesses. He landed soundlessly besides Linfan, grabbed her by her waist and jumped out.

"Oh, wow, that was easy." Morgan blurted out, grabbing Saizo's scarf as he pulled away from her. "Wait! You're him, right? The Saizo fellow? Lemme take a look at your mask!"

"Unhand me, woman!" Saizo pulled his own scarf back as Linfan studied his face with scrutiny.

"Oh, that sounded familiar, heehee," she giggled, remembering Lon'qu from her world. "But that's not it! Lemme just do this..." with her free hand, she grabbed one of the masks she had made previously and stuck it on Saizo's face. "Aw, I got the size wrong!"

Saizo flicked the mask away, managing to whisk himself out of Linfan's hold. "Do not do this again, girl, lest my blade finds itself in your gut by accident." He said and disappeared into a curtain of smoke.

"So he really was watching..." Linfan crouched to get her mask back, deep in thought. "Guess I'll have to relearn how to make them, huh? Now, to cover the mouth instead!"

"Wow, did you make this yourself, Linfan?" Elise picked one mask up -- since Linfan's pouch wasn't properly tied due to the surprise, it fell down when Saizo pulled away from her. "This is so pretty! What kind of paint is that?"

"Oh, there's one here, too..." Sakura picked one that looked like a fox. "So cute!"

"Do you like it? You can have it! I need to make bigger ones to fit Saizo..." She smiled, gathering the remaining dozen so as to tie them back on her pouch. "I can teach you to make it, if you want? With three heads, we can come up with more designs than me alone!"

"Really? You'll teach me?!" Elise trotted to Linfan's side, the foreign girl only one head taller than the nohrian princess. "I'm very good with my hands if I may say so myself! I love to make flower necklaces and crowns!"

"I-I don't like handling knives, but if it's only to carve, then..." Sakura shyly wore the fox mask, her cheeks flushed under it.

Elise and Linfan laughed. "It really does suit you! You really should keep it, after all." The apprentice tactician said. "C'mon, I'll teach you two right away! Let's get back to my tent for some light!"

Both princesses giggled, taking Linfan's extended hands. Their older brothers had advised them to steer clear of that girl, but she looked like such a fun person to be around! They surely would get along well from then on!

#morgan #owain #odin #selena #fire emblem fates #my writings #Yuki's Commissions #saizo #hope you like it!

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