#at least my brain and eye doctors are chill.

[batz]

LIKE IDK its honestly a Not Serious issue im just mad that doctors act Like That

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[nereidprinc3ss]

belladonna

in which you have to get your tetanus shot, and spencer is there to hold your hand. and… tease you. just a little bit. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: needles/r has needle phobia, flirty!reader, idiots in love, teasing, not established relationship yet, anxiety, Spencer makes a joke abt his addiction, did I mention IDIOTS IN LOVE a/n: works as a standalone, as do all the bandages fics I believe. anyway hope u like! <3

“Spencer, I don’t think I can do this.”

He sets down his shoddy hospital coffee and grabs your knee to stop your leg from its rapid bouncing, exerting a gentle pressure when you don’t immediately comply.

“Yes, you can. Just breathe, okay? Try to relax. It’s much harder for your brain to remain in fight-or-flight if your body is relaxed.”

“No, it’s—I feel like I can’t breathe right now,” you say, chest constricted in a vice of panic. “I think my heart is beating too fast, I—”

Footsteps approach from the hallway and your head snaps up, cold dread filling every vein in your body—but they continue past your door.

“Oh my god, I’m losing it. I’m going to die here,” you rave, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. The gauze wrapped around your hand presses against your brow and beneath it a cut throbs dully—a cruel reminder of what it is that you’re doing here in the first place.

Spencer gives up on trying to make you stop bouncing your leg, and instead the hand travels to your jaw to find your pulse. His fingers feel cool against your warmed skin, accentuating the constant thrum of your heart. You watch his face anxiously as fifteen seconds go by. 

“Your pulse is pretty high,” he admits gravely, returning his hands to his pockets. Your brow knits at his sudden solemnity as you look up at him. “I’m not a medical doctor, but… we might have to take you to the hospital.”

Any trace of worry withers from your face. “Truly hilarious.”

The corner of his mouth turns up a little.

“See? You’re calm enough to make a sarcastic joke at my expense. If you were actually going to die I doubt you would be able to do that.”

“Wanna make a bet?” you snap.

“Definitely not,” he smiles, warm eyes alight and not at all fazed by your attitude. “You’re the last person I’d bet against.”

“Ha,” you say bitterly, eyes darting to the door again. “In that case I might just take my chances with tetanus.”

“I just watched you slice your hand open on a rusty fence, take down a man twice your size, and get ten stitches without flinching. Needles should be afraid of you.”

At least now your face is warming from the compliment and not the anxiety. 

“It’s... different. Like, stitches and shots. Shots really fucking freak me out. I don’t know if you could tell. I’m sure I seem really chill about it.”

He nods sagely. “Trypanophobia. It’s among the most common phobias in the world, next to Arachniphobia, Ophidiophobia, Acrophobia, Aerophobia. You have Astraphobia, too, don’t you? Fear of storms?”

“Spencer.”

“I also used to struggle with needles, actually.”

You look back at him, suddenly curious.

“Used to?”

“Yeah, but I pretty much got over it when I got all the vaccines for my clearance at the Academy. Becoming addicted to intravenous drugs helped, too, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” he muses, examining the art on the wall behind you and taking a sip of his coffee.

At that exact moment, the door opens and a very professional, very exhausted-looking nurse hurries in. You hardly even register her because you’re staring at Spencer, trying to figure out if you just heard him right. He’s looking right back at you over the rim of his cup, eyes dancing with what looks like suppressed mirth.

The nurse says something, and you bless her with an ‘uh-huh’, unable to take your eyes off of Spencer.

“I must be hallucinating,” you say.

“What? You’re the only one allowed to make off-color jokes at inappropriate times?”

“I didn’t even know you could make a regular joke, honestly.”

“You ready, dear?” says the nurse, swabbing your upper arm with an alcohol wipe.

“Ah! Spencer!” You yelp, thrusting out your hand for him to take. He quickly sets the cup  back down on the window sill and takes your outstretched hand, stepping closer.

“Relax,” he laughs upon seeing how your shoulders have risen to meet your ears. “Don’t look over there. Look at me.” Gently he brushes a loose strand of your hair behind your shoulder, redirecting your focus toward him. At this point you’ve gone catatonic anyway, so you don’t resist, although it doesn’t seem to matter much because you’re basically blacking out. “Literally relax your arm. I'm serious. It will hurt less.”

“Small pinch, darlin’,” the nurse says, and you clench your jaw so hard you’re afraid you might break a tooth, and maybe some tetanus-induced lockjaw wouldn’t actually be so bad, and she’s touching your arm now, and who made that extremely undignified squeaking noise, and— “And you’re done.”

You frown.

“I’m done?”

“You’re done,” the nurse repeats. Logically she has no reason to lie to you about this, but you look over to check anyway because there’s simply no way you’re done just like that. Sure enough, she’s smoothing a band-aid over your shoulder and pulling your sleeve back into place.

You look back at Spencer as if searching for a second opinion, utterly baffled. He carefully frees his poor hand of your bone crushing grip and grabs your discarded FBI jacket from the chair, handing it to you.

“That’s it?” you say, taking the jacket and absent-mindedly folding it on your lap.

“That’s it. You did it.”

“Really? That’s all? I feel like it can’t be that easy. I don’t even think I felt anything,” you ramble, rolling your shoulder around, and finding just a bit of soreness.

“You were so brave,” he nods, stepping closer to wipe something warm and wet away from under your eyes. “Americans can rest easy knowing they’ve got someone like you in the FBI.”

“Shut up. Am I crying?”

He laughs, and the twinkly sound fills you with even more joy than normal. Everything seems a little brighter, a little warmer—probably another adrenaline rush or a result of your brain releasing a trace amount of opioids in response to the pain.

“Just a little bit.”

“You two are FBI?” The nurse says, like she can’t quite believe it.

Before you can tell her that you don’t very much like her tone, Spencer nods.

“Behavioral analysis unit.”

“Oh! You guys catch all those serial killers?”

He nods politely, giving her a flat smile. “That’s the goal, yes.”

“Wow. There’s a meet-cute to tell your children.”

You snort and immediately clap your good hand to your mouth, looking up at Spencer to see how he’ll react. Of course he’s already red and stammering.

“Oh, no—I—maybe I misled you, we’re not, uh… we’re not together. Not like that. We are partners in the, in the sense of our job, not—we’re not romantically involved. Just—co-workers. Friends. We’re, I’d say we’re good friends. I mean, she’s great. She’s very nice, and, well—maybe nice isn’t exactly the right word, but she’s, you know—”

“Spencer,” you interrupt.

“You ready to go?” he says immediately, looking very grateful that someone finally cut him off. Works like a charm, every time. 

You stand, and to your surprise, wobble a bit on your feet. Spencer steadies you with a hand to your waist. “Woah,” you mutter, trying not to look too disoriented.

“You need to eat,” he says. “With how anxious you’ve been you probably completely burned through whatever calories were in your system. It’s a parasympathetic nervous system response to adrenaline.”

“I know what it is.” You grab his hand and turn to the nurse, who is looking at the two of you with a bemused, slightly clinical interest. “Um... thanks? Right?”

“Okay,” Spencer says. “We’re leaving now. Come on. Go.”

As he’s herding you out the door, you keep trying to look at him over your shoulder. “Is it weird that I kind of liked it? Does that, like… point to something?”

“Never repeat that,” Spencer says, shaking his head, but you can hear the strain of a hidden smile in his voice. 

You smile up at him as the two of you walk down the empty hallway, swinging his hand in yours.

“She thought we were together,” you say, and it’s almost a gloat, though Spencer can’t quite wrap his mind around what that might mean. Instead, he relishes the weight of your hand in his. He doesn’t exactly remember when that became commonplace, but he never takes it for granted. He can’t help the smirk across his face which always lets you know he’s going to say something snarky. 

“She just doesn’t understand that you need constant attention or you’ll die.”

Luckily, you’re used to each other. Quips are just one prevalent dialect in your vast love language. 

“Yup. I’m a delicate, rare flower.”

Spencer scoffs lightly.

“Yeah. Like deadly nightshade. Or water hemlock.”

“Those ones are pretty, right?”

He squeezes your hand. Imagines telling you that he’s in love with you and has been for a very long time. 

Instead, he thinks about dinner. 

“Gorgeous. Where do you want to eat, Belladonna?”

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

[yokakaiju]

i got bored and made a tierlist based off who smokes the most weed

justifications under cut

so like i made this cause its funny first and foremost, but i did put like somewhat actual thought into this. not much, but synapses were firing in my brain putting this together

also im not tagging everyone, ill just like pick 2 or whatevs

okay so first up is chidaruma. dude prolly invented weed ngl. you know he's smoked everyway imaginable: blunt, pipe, bong, can, apple, vape, synthesized, edible, hotbox, blower; you name it, he's done it. he's kinda over it, but he's still up there just cause like... idk he is and won't take criticism

haru is a beautiful weed smoking gf thats literally it

13's entire schedule is probably wake up, smoke, jerk off, sleep, eat, smoke, jerk off, eat, smoke, repeat. he also would probably kin jesse pinkman

ton is a bitch and smokes all the cross-eye commanders weed. like they'll save up for MONTHS to get like 5oz (one for each of them :3) and he'll be like, "woah! a bag of weed!" and smoke it ALLLLLL in like an hour. he's like a truffle pig for weed, they can try to hide it but his ass always finds it and smokes it all. he would prolly also call it za or skunk or some shit like that

ebisu isn't quite in the high 24/7 catagory, but she could be. dawg loves weed, like she is also 100% a fucking master at rolling blunts she rivals chidaruma at it. rolling blunts is like a sport for her tbh

aikawa's gotta cope dawg. like if he aint at school or currently being possed by demons his ass is smokin that shit bruh he needs a minute to chill. also he's got crazy money (kai's money but shhh) so he might as well spend it on his pookie <3 (risu)

noi may be controversial being up so high, but hear me out. weed smoking gf? i think yes B) mogs at you

asuka also has to cope, but its cause shes a blackpilled femcel (her own words i stg)

chota would smoke, but he hates the smell and doesn't want it to ruin his clothes and shit. he prolly wears like silk gowns and dances around to madonna while trippin off like 10g. he's livin the life tbh

OKAY HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT johnston. fucking johnston is only i repeat ONLY UP HERE‼️ because kasukabe gives him those little non thc thc pills people give to dogs with anxiety and agression issues to keep him calm

poor dokuga cant share with his besties so he's been condemed to eating edibles alone... also smoking/inhaling smoke makes him drool a bit so like a bit deadly for everyone around him to even try. i like, debated on putting him in never, but tetsujo prolly cooks smth up for him so he doesn't feel left out <3

natsuki is only at the top of sometimes because she probably would more if she had money. also she sucks in a blunt rotation cause her ass ALWAYS WITHOUT FAIL tries to hold it in and always coughs like a mfer and taps out after like one hit

vaux just makes sense. he looks like an average 30-40smth nu metal oldhead, theres no way he DOESNT smoke at least a little. id put him in 100% but he's also a fairly responsible doctor so liek idk

kasukabe doesnt as much anymore, mostly only when he's with haru, but he still does sometimes for funsies cause he's just chiil like that :3

tetsujo doesn't thattt much cause it fucks with his already dog shit depth perception super bad, but sometimes if ton or the others dont find it he shares it with dokuga and they like yuri pose and eat edibles together or smth idk

ik kaiman is gonna be controversial being so low, but listen. 1) his ass is too focused on socerers and shit to care 2) he's dirt poor. he simply cannot afford it 3) how tf is he gonna smoke with no lips? that blunt would just get chewed to shit. like genuinely he would maybe get one singular edible if nikaido or vaux were feeling nice, but other than that its like, idk almost never for him

i would but shin in never, but ik noi is like "boss!!!! come take hits off this bong with me!! its gonna be so sick omg you HAVE to come smoke with me RN!!!!" and he'd be like "sighhhhhh... anything for my weed smoking gf ig..."

ushishimada is only so low cause i feel like he's too mothery to smoke a lot? like, he's too responsible, but not responsible enough to outright say no. also they're poor asf and ton always smokes it all

fukuyama would get his ass kicked by tanba if he found out, but ik dawgs gotta take a load off sometimes tbh

now again, controversial take but i have reasons. risu is so fucking poor. like, genuinely he is too worried about his tuition, bills, and groceries to give af about it (also cause aikawa is a bitch and makes him pay for everything cause "i forgot my wallet oopsie :3c"). now aikawa does supply him tho and he hooks him up with the primo shit ong. so at least when he does smoke he smokes that good shit (also they yuri pose as well while they smoke)

again, saji is too mommy to smoke that much weed (also another case of being too poor). bro doesn't want his clothes and needlework to smell like shit, which i respect

ai 100% would if his ass wasnt so busy with his damn self expiramentation bs. like, he wants to smoke so bad tbh, but he's like "sigh i gotta work on my plans to rebuild my body from the ground up.. maybe tomorrow" stares longingly out the window imagining how cool smoking weed is

again, kai's over here fuckin "i have to go to work" like he genuinely just doesn't care or have time. he's never even thought about it tbh, like you're tellin me this mfer has had a single thought outside of total domination in his entire existance??? HELL NAH HIS ASS DOES NOT THINK HE HAS ZERO THOUGHTS IN HIS HEAD I STG

now this may also be controversial. why isn't by beautiful coquette cottagecore angelcore babe out there rolling and smoking the fattest blunts known to man? turkey just like doesnt feel it. its not for her tbh. she tried smoking, she tried edibles. she just wasnt a fan tbh. like, she'll cook up some of the tastiest edibles you've ever had if you ask, but she just aint a fan

kirion also just doesn't feel it tbh. again, its not for her and thats alright

wow surprise surprise another controversial take. like, before you get mad just think abt it for a sec. like, she's so fucking business first and always has been that i think she would just see it as a major hinderance on her job performance, as well as the performance of her employees later down the line. now im not saying she's a narc or hardass about it, im saying she just doesn't feel it. the high she gets from people enjoying her food and making money is enough for her tbh. also she does do edibles sometimes, but mostly like when it rains in hole to make it a little less miserable and painful

en is about the same. like, he def has. he's just like, idk. he doesnt wanna. its not for him anymore. he doesn't care if anyone in the family does it, but they better not sacrifice the quality of their work for it. like if he catches you high on the job its prolly like some sort of repremanding, but off the clock he dont gaf

genuinely copy paste nikaidos shit for tanba. he's too worried about his business to even consider smoking weed

now... kawajiri is a fucking narc and a half. his ass would be like "erm ☝️🤓 well actually" and then give a big long speech about how weed is bad blah blah blah whatever no one cares dawg stop fuckin yappin. but like, he's just pissed cause no one will smoke with him or share their weed with him cause he's such a hardass

fujita is kinda weed smoking gf coded, but like ik his ass would be like "EN! EN! I SAW EBISU SMOKING A BLUNT THE SIZE OF HER OWN FOREARM AND TRYING TO SHARE IT WITH KIKURAGE!!! YOU NEED TO STOP HER RN!!!!" but hes only like this cause when he was in a blunt roation with shin, noi, and ebisu they all told him holding it in made you higher, but he ended up puking and they all laughed at him and made fun of him for it because hes a fucking idiot. so now he's an evil little narc who squeals to en when he even catches a whiff of a skunk like scent

curse is a bitch and ik his ass is like "RAAAHHHH‼️ I GOTTA GO KILL THE CROSS-EYES BOSS RAHHH‼️ I NEED TO SEEK REVENEGE FOR MY MURDER RAHHHHHH‼️" like dawg chill tf out be so real rn. he's too focused on revenge and shit to smoke and like, i think if he did smoke and kai also smoked they'd have beautiful hot sexy yaoi, thats just me tho

oh my god shou is such a bitch about it. like sure kawajiri gives lectures about the "scary true reality of weed" and fujita is a narc, but this guy. oh my god this mfer. THIS IS THE REAL REASON EVERYONE FORGOT ABOUT HIM ITS CAUSE THEY KNOW HIS ASS IS GONNA WHINE AND BITCH AND MAKE YOU GO TO LIKE AA OR NA OR WHATEVER FOR IT!!!! HE'LL START CALLIN YOI AND ADDICT AND SAYIN ITS A GATEWAY AND SHIT AND HOW THE DEVILS WILL IMMEDIATLY DRAG YOI TO HELL AND TORTURE YOU FOREVER IF YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT IT OH MY BALLS

kikurage is literally just a dog dawg. her ass dont even know what weed is

store crow mauler is like... idk man. idk how it would smoke weed or if it even knows or cares what weed is. whatever, its kinds like a pet so whatevs

[loosesodamarble]

Welcome to the Black Bird Part 4: Wesley the Chilling

Summary: Introducing Nozel as Wesley, the dashing but ice-cold butler from the Black Bird. Genre: general Word count: ~850 A/N: @cringeyvanillamilk is again the artist for this fic's art.

..........

Silver hair spread out around the head like a crown, or perhaps a halo. No, not a halo, as they belonged to spirits that passed on, not this person. Eyes closed as if in sleep. Yes, merely sleep. Arms laid on either side, impossibly still but with a steady pulse felt through warm skin.

Acier Silva slept soundly. As she had been for nearly two years.

Nozel reached out and brushed Acier’s bangs aside. After tucking the strands back, Nozel paused and lamented that it used to be the other way around. Acier had done this very thing for him all his childhood. And now…

“Don’t worry, Mother. It’s my turn to take care of you,” Nozel whispered to her.

Acier didn’t answer of course. She couldn’t but Nozel still spoke to her regularly on the doctor’s suggestion. Outside stimuli was recommended for Acier’s brain activity. The doctor’s also said that it would give Nozel an outlet for his feelings. Even if Nozel’s visits to the hospital helped his mother’s recovery, it didn’t do anything about what caused Acier to fall into her present state. He needed to find out the truth…

Once he left the hospital, Nozel checked his phone and saw a message notification from Dorothy: [update for uuuu~ ( ^ω^ )]

Nozel immediately replied, [What news do you have for me?]

[i found u a job that u might not botch~ ( ✌︎'ω')✌︎] It may have been a text but Nozel could hear Dorothy’s playful voice in his mind.

[You make me sound incompetent and like I’ve never worked a job before.]

[im not totally wrong tho (￣▽￣) u never worked a normie job (*^▽^*)]

Nozel’s eye twitched. Why did his dear friend also have to be a theatrical tease? Still, he replied, [Never mind my job history. What’s the position you found for me?]

[o(^▽^)o ur gonna luv it~]

Coming from Dorothy, the statement wasn’t as comforting to Nozel as it should’ve been.

…..

“One order of the Fairy Spring Tea Set, my lady,” Nozel stated while setting down a three-tiered tray on a table where a single woman with long, chestnut-colored hair. “Do call upon me once you’ve completed your meal.”

“What?” The chestnut-haired woman tucked her hair behind her ears and gave a sharp smile. “You won’t encourage me to enjoy the food? How cold of you, Wesley.”

“I see no reason to doubt the kitchen staff’s work. It’s guaranteed that you’ll enjoy it.”

With that, Nozel turned away. The woman hummed with amusement behind him. Nozel then approached the other table he was attending to. Seated were three women: one with sun-kissed skin and golden hair, one with similarly dark skin but earthy brown locks, and one with silvery-white hair that matched her fair complexion.

“Esteemed mistresses,” Nozel greeted. “I’m Wesley, your attendant for this day.”

“Hiya Wesley,” the blonde tittered with a wide grin. She leaned over to the brunette. “See, I told you he was regal!”

“He certainly has a princely vibe, even as a butler,” the brunette replied, laughing as well.

“To compare to a higher station seems rather inappropriate.” Nozel’s tone was clipped, as he needed to emphasize his coldness. “Regardless, what drinks shall I start you with?”

“Do you perhaps have any recommendations?” the pale-haired woman inquired with a smile that was petite but radiating kindness.

The trio of women were all endeared to Nozel it seemed. And it perplexed him how customers could be entertained by such an attitude. It made more sense than his previous work persona at least. How anyone liked his previous performance, as it was, was beyond him.

…..

Shivering Citrus Delight. A lemon-lime sorbet topped with a crisp waffle cookie.

Nozel understood how the dish, being frozen and having an off-white color which made it appear like a snowball, worked well with his work persona and appearance. The invoking of winter was clear in both Nozel and the dish. However, the bright, citrus flavor of the sorbet brought to mind summertime. Something which Nozel failed to see in himself.

Nozel couldn’t easily share his smile with others. His heart was too heavy with thoughts of Acier’s condition and his mind, too frenzied trying to investigate to be carefree. And instead of being an inviting presence, Nozel distanced himself from his family. He wouldn’t allow his younger siblings to be dragged down by responsibilities and burdens meant for him alone.

Winter and summer in one. An ideal that Nozel saw as illogical. Or rather, unattainable…

There was no summer in Nozel to thaw him from the winter he isolated his heart in. And there likely were no answers awaiting him, despite his bided time.

A sour, perhaps even bitter, feeling welled up in Nozel’s mind.

Has this all been a waste? Have I wasted myself? Nozel bit his cheek and kept his face neutral despite feeling the need to scowl.

Nozel set down his serving tray. When he did, the cookie that came with the Citrus Delight tipped and fell onto the tray, crumbling. He muttered an apology to his customers.

Nozel was frustrated. He, too, felt close to crumbling.

[phyrexian-lesbian]

Final Take on Series 14/Season 40

(It will never be season one cry about it)

Alright so Space Babies brings the while season down at least 50% so we're gonna ignore that episode- which is also useful advice for anyone watching Doctor who.

Excluding space babies, there are a handful of episodes that, stand-alone, are really good. Of course, there'd never be more than a handful because the international franchise pairing with corporate overlords only had time for 9 episodes apparently.

In fact, I like most of the season, considering I don't watch them as a season. Church on Ruby Road was interesting, playing with the idea of magic and the Timeless Child arc.

The Devil's Chord was fun and intriguing, playing with the gods and monsters idea again, and having cool 4th wall breaks and a fun villain. Its drawbacks were the stupid fucking musical number that rtd wrote with no canon reason other than "Maestro's influence", which is a repeat of what he did with the 60th (writing utter bullshit and pinning it on a stupid fucking cause that makes 0 canon sense).

Boom was incredible. For starters, it was written by someone who wasn't rtd, so that's amazing. Also, as a theatre kid, having tur central actor unable to move their body for the entire performance tickled my brain in all the best ways. All in all, it felt like an episode from 12's era, when Doctor was at its peak for me. Great episode. Made me hopeful for the future (hahahaha😶)

73 Yards was also incredible (ignoring the finale). It heightened that (false) sense of mystery surrounding Ruby, and ramped up the horror subtheme started by Wild Blue Yonder. I really enjoyed it, and it was a great story. Felt a lot like Heaven Sent, which is am achievement (All of this praise is for the standalone. RTD pissed all over his good writing with the finale, and 73 Yards was ruined by EoD).

Dot and Bubble played with some interesting ideas but was kinda meh. It was a cool reality to see 15 suffer racism (bit like 13 suffering misogyny), and it was good to see the Doctor mad again.

Rogue was very cool, and I thought it was great. Made me wish we had a Thasmin kiss tho.

Legend of Ruby Sunday, aka the good half of the finale, was very interesting. All the mystery and the magic and the reunions. They dismissed the whole bigeneration plot line, and the fact that 15 didn't see any of this shit coming meant that the bigeneration plot line was completely fucked. 14 and 15 aren't the same person in a looped time line. They're just clones of each other. The whole "therapy" situation is utter bullshit. RTD just can't kill t*nnant for shit (fr love David Tennant in other stuff and as a person in general just getting sick of him in Dr who). Sutekh's reveal could have been handled a bit better, but overall his entrance gave me chills. Loved that. Just needed a bit more detail on how he avoided the TARDIS sensors for two thousand years.

And finally, the episode that untied all the others from each other, Empire of Death. The mystery that terrified Maestro, the God of music and revels, and caught the obsession of Sutekh, the God of death and eternity, was utter bullshit. Ruby's mum is just some guy. A nice thought- we thought she was some godlike entity but she was just an ordinary human. Except. We didn't think that. RTD wrote that. The snow, the "song in her soul", the fact that Ruby's mum couldn't be perceived with anything but the naked eye, not even with Time Lord equipment- that's all superhuman shit. You can't explain that away with "she's normal". That's not how it works. Oh and the God of literal actual Death was defeated by a real good dogleash? Nah man. If you want us to take things seriously, don't pull shit like that. Also they defeated him literally the same way they did last time, adding the aforementioned dog leash. Also the fact that her mum is just normal means that the whole mystery about the specter's words in 73 yards is just... pointless? Completely useless?

Also, no one names their daughter by pointing at a sign (that wasn't there in the original shot).

And Ruby's exit was so nothing. I didn't feel a single thing. There was no emotional connection to the character. She left of her own directive. After 9 45minute episodes. Don't know if people honestly were emotional about that, because there was nothing there.

Overall, good episodes. Bad season.

[queenofbaws]

from the call me up at midnight prompt list:

"talk to me, what's going on?"

Waking up didn't happen quickly - not for him, not anymore. There was no sudden jolt startling him into the land of the living, no magical moment where his eyes snapped open and the day's events slotted cleanly into place. Instead, he found himself being pulled slowly, inexorably, up and up and up, as if from some great depth; the darkness grew less, a few rays of light shimmered above, his body remembered how to float bit by bit, and then...

James pulled in a long, aching breath. It was too bright to open his eyes, the violent red of his eyelids reminding him that he'd left the drapes open before he'd fallen asleep, so he took to slapping around the nightstand to find the phone, relying on muscle memory. Even so, it took him until the fourth (fifth?) ring before he found the receiver. Another still before he managed to lift it from its cradle and bring it to his ear.

"Hello?" he croaked, then winced, pressing hard against his sinuses with his other hand as he tried again. "Hello?"

The line was quiet for a moment. And then she spoke, her voice soft and cool as the other side of his fevered pillowcase. "James? Honey? Are you all right?"

He wished he could say that did it, that the sound of her voice was enough to flip some magic switch inside of him, but...well. Maybe it had been, once. Things had changed, though, life was different now, and while there would always be a part of him soothed and comforted by the shape of her words, the bourbon had beaten her to it tonight. Today. This morning? Hell, he wasn't even sure.

James rubbed his eyes, but the thought of opening them was still too much. He pinched the phone between his ear and shoulder, pressing the heels of his hands hard against his eyelids until his vision seemed to sparkle. "I'm fine," he said, and he'd give himself this much at least - he'd managed to sound halfway convincing while saying it. "How are you? It's early for you to be up, isn't it?" Maybe not as convincing as he'd hoped, on second thought. "Is everything all right?"

The line was quiet. Not perfectly so, but quiet enough for him to notice the absence of the usual sounds, the beeps of the monitors, the hiss of oxygen from her cannula, the low, distant chattering of the nurses and doctors as they went about their lives acting as though hers wasn't ending.

"...Mary?" he tried, his head far too heavy to even attempt sitting up. "Hey, talk to me. What's going on over there? Is everything - "

"Why?"

His stomach dropped. The shame, the guilt, it all came creeping back to him, slithering through the fog of his grogginess. It was the conversation he'd spent all of last night avoiding, the conversation he'd drowned himself in shitty whiskey to escape. They'd had it so many times, of late, replayed it in an endless, unwinnable loop, and there they were again, taking up their parts, same as ever: Her, the victim; him, the monster. He wondered how many times they could rewind this tape before the celluloid snapped from the heat.

"Mary, I - " he began, then realized he hadn't been able to come up with a good excuse when sober, much less hungover and half-asleep, feeling like something dredged up out of a lake. So he pivoted. Deflected. Bought himself a little more time, despite knowing full well it might be more than she had to give. "I'm coming to see you, all right? I am. Work's just been crazy, and my dad's been calling, and - "

"That's not what I meant." Something about the way she said it sent a chill through him, starting at the notch of his collarbone and moving down, down, down until it bisected him like a lover's caress.

Despite himself, he shivered. Why had he let himself drink so much last night?

"I don't...um..." He wracked his brain for what she'd meant, what she might've been referring to, but everything behind his eyes felt rusted over and sharp. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter against the light coming in from the drapes, the bright red splash of his eyelids, and after a moment, it came to him. "We've been over this. The doctor said you can't travel. I'm sorry - you know I am - but the drive to Silent Hill is bad enough on its own. To get to the hotel, there's a boat ride on top of that, and you're in no condition to - "

"No, James," Mary interrupted him, and suddenly her voice went flat. Robotic. It seemed to blend into the ambient static of the line, an electrical hum only mimicking his wife. It distorted, shattered, tore like old bedclothes being fed into an industrial grinder, "Why did you kill - "

He sat up with a gasp, a sudden jolt startling him back into the land of the living. His eyes snapped open. The events of the day slotted neatly back into place.

In the darkness of what had once been their bedroom, on the stripped and soiled mattress that had once been their bed, James sat back against the headboard and remembered why he'd started drinking that night. He looked to the window (the lacy drapes shut tight the way Mary had always liked), looked to the bedside table (her glass of water still beaded with condensation beside her pill caddy), and, after a brief moment of contemplation, yanked the phone cord out of the wall.

Just in case.

[quibbs126]

I made buff spiky plant lady

However I have not made either honey based Cookie, whether it be the honey doctor Choco boyfriend or the honey also buff lady in construction. But ah well

To be honest, I wasn’t planning on having her be a cactus, and she looked different in my head initially, but @ur-typical-nerd suggested Prickly Pear and it went with the color scheme, not to mention it made the spiked ball easier to draw and helped with the spiky theme

I think in my head she was originally a forest lady, I think my brain was thinking about someone talking about making our own updates bc Devsis won’t give us what we want, I was thinking of a forest theme and she came mind. I suppose now she’s a desert lady though

I had planned for her to be shirtless outside of something at the top (and in my head I think I was thinking of something sort of similar to what @rexitto’s Tabasco wears at the top only with the bottom part of that open), which I made that jacket, but to be honest I had no clue what to do for her bottom half, I just kind of made something a put a belt to separate them

Also I’m gonna be honest, I don’t think I’m good at drawing the buff Cookie tops. Yeah I have at least three sketches of fankids that are unfinished and not very far in because I have trouble with the posing of their hands in accordance with their bodies. In general I’m not very good at body diversity with my Cookies. I try sometimes to make them look intentionally a bit wide or skinny, but by the end they don’t look that different (or I edit something in the sketch because it looks off that diminishes that difference)

I admit that Prickly Pear doesn’t look anything like what I normally draw, particularly with her greenish skin, colored eye lines, and her body type. But I did quite like drawing her, even if realistically I probably won’t ever use her again

Oh yeah, personality. To be honest I don’t have much, other than she tends to be scary looking and is definitely tough, but she’s a chill person that’ll help someone in need. But also don’t cross her, she’s very powerful, if you couldn’t get that just from her looks. Probably drinks a lot of cactus juice

[apples-r-rubbish]

Small Town (11th Doctor x Reader) - Part 2

Summary: It snows in October, an Amberpoint tradition. On this peculiar snow day you find things aren't just cold outside. Count: 2.3k Warnings: unreality, self gaslighting, mentions of death, long gaps between updates A/N: I didn't mean for this to take literally 8 months, but I have a degree now! it is what it is, sorry, I can't promise I will ever update consistently because that's not my style. However, Thank you for all the support of my fics even though I went M.I.A -L <3

MASTERLIST | PART ONE | PART TWO (you are here !)

You were wandering around the TARDIS arm outstretched out gently touching the walls with your fingertips. The ship hummed gently appreciating your company. It had been an overwhelming 36 hours. 

The asylum was cold, wet and frightening. You prided yourself on generally being quite brave, but that place, that cold, dark, wet, place, sucked the energy right out of your soul. A dalek with a heart was not an easy sight, and as the doctor explained it you felt instantly floored.  The horrors you’d seen remained in your mind. At some point you slipped your way down the wall and allowed a few silent tears to slip from your eyes, and a figure came and sat next you and you slowly began to-

No. This wasn’t right. They don’t exist. You made them up. This isn’t real. That didn’t happen. The dream stopped almost as quickly as it had come to you. It was replaced by an intense feeling of loss you couldn’t quite place.

You stirred from your sleep in waves. Slowly, slowly, you rose from your bed. The world was cold. You read the clock. It was 9 am, 27th October. You searched for warmth through the covers and it was ultimately unsuccessful. John must’ve gotten up early. You curled yourself up in bed for a moment longer, bracing yourself for the chill of air that would eventually come. 

You wandered down the stairs now fully dressed. You frowned at your pyjamas, you couldn’t remember getting them. They were a gift, probably. John stood by the landline mumbling something into the phone. There didn’t seem to be a response coming through, but the conversation continued. He seemed to unstiffen when he saw you and mumbled ‘Work’ while scribbling a barely legible chicken scratch-esque note on paper before waving it at you. 

‘Breakfast - in the Kitchen.’ It was something of an Amberpoint oddity, snow days in October. For as long as you’d lived there had always been at least one. It was something of a ritual at this point, John’s work would call, tell him they’d cancel his appointments and you guys would have a day inside with not much else to do. So you took solace and started camping. Kettle on, brain off. 

You looked out the window halfheartedly, snow braced the horizon, usually it was worse - maybe it was the fact that last time - no year - had left you frozen in for two days with nothing but John’s rambling and intermittent radio signals. At first it was awful snow in October was never right in your mind especially in wherever you’re from again. But now however many years you had lived here, it had become somewhat embraced by you and your husband. 

You heard the phone gently placed back on the receiver as John entered the room, a content sigh fell from him. 

“So Amberpoint tradition, checklist. No work, tick.  Haven’t bothered to check the radio yet, so 50/50 and judging by the snow. No people for give or take but roughly 24 hours,” he wrapped his arms around you and placed a quiet but appreciative kiss on your forehead. And almost as soon as he had said it a knock disrupted the quiet day you had built for yourself. Laughter. 

Bee and Gus stood in the entryway shivering in a way akin to leaves, or something else that shivers. You welcomed them in, seemingly producing mugs of tea from nowhere. They graciously accepted taking up space on your sofa, heat clearly being appreciated. 

“Sorry we had nowhere else to turn, we aren’t used to the weather you see.” Bee rambled between sips “I thought, ah yes, number 11 will know what to do and Gus said we shouldn’t bother you, but I knew you’d be able to help.” Smile sitting there. Saccharine. You agreed seemingly involuntarily, like you felt the force through your body move your head before you’d even registered the question. Unequivocally, you would’ve said yes always. Helping people is what you do. Maybe it showed on your face. Something wasn’t right. 

“Y/N are you quite alright?” Gus asked seemingly as if he’d caught you out on a joke you had no idea of.

The words came to you suddenly, like divine intervention or a script cue you’d suddenly remembered. “Ah yes of course. Doors are always open for you, well at least I’d hope not or all the snow would get in,” your own laughter punctuated the sentence. That wasn’t your laughter. You’d heard it thousands of times. Even John frowned at the noise. No, this was it, what are you talking about? The look melted away, but the snow wouldn’t.

At some point through the snow day you’d resorted to games as the snow piled higher and higher. Charades was the game you’d decided would work. Simple, easy, no hosting, no fuss. Bee stood up, hands wildly gesturing, John and Gus throwing their answers in by the handful, which only caused Bee to keep forming the shapes with her hands but somehow more manically, a joking frustration forming on her face. A film title slipped from your mouth, the words tumbled out your felt your mouth form the sound almost involuntarily. It was garbled to your eardrums, it was like the sound was there and then it seemingly wasn’t. Static on the radio. Scratch on a record. A glitch on the screen.The world seemed to freeze in a way. You’d dragged the Doctor, John, to see that film, virtually begging him. He begrudgingly came along sort of, he sat in the cinema mumbling about how this character was an alien- no that one definitely was, the space travel was inaccurate or that historical thing actually didn’t happen like that and I would know because- the memory was cut short, the cold glare of Gus replacing it staring deep within your soul- something was wrong. He mumbled something, you couldn’t quite make out from the weird static that filled your ears.

The room swung back into you, head lightly slamming forward against the force of something, eyes shooting open. Laughter ensued, everything is fine, isn’t it? Another answer fell from your mouth - The correct one - with a smile, the same one Bee always seemed to give, it was met with a roar of a cheer from Bee excited she finally got to sit down, rather than manically gesturing in hopes that someone would guess something it was clear no-one was going to understand anyway. 

It was well into the evening by now, a small hearty dinner simmering away on the stove, you and Bee sat on the kitchen floor, backs against the kitchen cabinets, discussing old memories.

“I literally bumped into John, that's how I met him,” You giggled between sips of wine, like a child on a sugar rush “He was running to somewhere off doing something stupid, and he ran into me, he literally knocked me off my feet and  he pulled me up, said the thing he was doing was so important, so I’d have to come with him so he could ask me out later. I didn’t believe him, obviously, who would- But no he was right, had to save someone’s life, he is a Doctor after all, it’s what he does. But God, he dragged me around for a whole day, my feet were aching by the end of it, just so much running,”

Bee responded with a small, twinkling smile. It was different from the staged one, it felt like a brave act, giggling like a schoolgirl sitting on the kitchen floor in a snowstorm. But for once it felt real, as though there was no question of whether you should be here or not, it just was and that was right,

“Ah well, mine’s nowhere near that fun. We met in the office, worked together for years, he wouldn’t look at me twice, and then one day he just did and something just clicked in him. And he marched up to me and the rest is history,” Fiddling with her ring as she spoke, “It seems like centuries sometimes, and like days others,” At some point she’d stopped laughing and just drifted. Drifted through the sentence. Like silence on the other end of a telephone. It was then you took her in, nothing poised or staged or performed, just her. She was young, younger than you by the looks of things, but the stories she recounted should have made her older, or at least more well travelled. You gently nudged her, light returned almost as quickly as it had gone. 

Soup was distributed amongst the four of you, sitting at the table not too unlike the other day, Was it the other day? The calendar said 1963. No, they're still new to the neighbourhood. They didn’t know about the snow. And that was a common frustration among the neighbours. I’m sure it doesn’t matter. “This is good, darling thank you for making it,” John commented, he must have noticed your inattentiveness, a small look of concern, thoroughly masked under layers and layers of social etiquette. You nodded, mumbled a brief thank you, and squeezed his hand something reserved for gut feelings, it came as almost normally as breathing, this secondary language you’d formed between the two of you.

The meal had finished, plates, everything washed and away. You’d finally dared to crack open the door a fraction as they’d calmed down thoroughly enough to go home. Snow was piled waist height, unmoving. Door slammed shut, try again tomorrow. Gus seemed to freeze at this,then the anger came “This wasn’t what-” He froze again, hyper aware of his actions, he corrected himself, his stance, his demeanour, breakneck speed back to the usual, “This wasn’t what, we expected,” a meak laugh thrown on at the end for good measure. John frowned at this, he’d caught it and his eyes flicked with something unlike him. Something cold, calculating. He saw you and nodded, an indication: Keep calm, keep it together, it said wordlessly.

Sitting at the balcony over your back garden, you both had a moment alone to talk. 

“He’s weird,” You stated, sipping your drink slowly, almost to cover what you’d said.

John stared at you for a moment, almost incredulously, as if he couldn’t actually believe what you’d said, a pit of guilt forming in your stomach.

“He just makes me uneasy, like a tiger, or a bear, or- or a killer whale, or something else weird,” You said wildly gesturing, arms getting flakes of snow on them, as they stretched over the drop. He laughed at you, breaking character just for a moment, “I mean I get it, but we are getting to know them, darling. You’re married to an alien, I highly doubt we’re normal to them,” He chuckled, wrapping his arms protectively around you and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. Married to what? 

“Huh, what did you just say? I must’ve drifted off in that last sentence,” You said, rubbing your eyes like a small child, desperate to stay up past their bedtime, as the sleep hit you like a sudden wave. He took your face in his hands, “I said to a Doctor,” He followed his statement with a loving frown. “How did I get so lucky with you? Feels like someone planned all this in the best way,” He squeezed your body in a tight hug “Get some sleep darling.” 

The dreams didn’t come that night, at least not one felt like a memory. 

You awoke somewhere unfamiliar, a cyan and purple sky flashed above you in a storm, dirt and gravel were uneven underneath your back, and didn’t help you at all when you tried to stand. Wobbling to your feet, you observed around you, John- No, the doctor ran towards you and grabbed your hand, and pulled you with force. Ash was falling as you ran, making it harder to run, burning heat filling your lungs.

“We have to leave now, it isn’t safe.” He pleaded, “Come on! Run!” The sympathies faded quickly and were replaced with rushed panic. You nodded a silent acceptance, knowing you had to leave. This memory is not yours, you know it. You can feel it in your brain it’s wrong, like the pieces of two puzzles have been mixed up together all wrong. The Doctor pulls you along, you reach something resembling a vessel, at least what of it your brain allows you to see, the rest promptly replaced by static, the same static blocking out words in your brain. Where are you? You ask your thoughts, the static response is the same constant buzzing you feel in the back of your mind, wordless, uncaring, uneventful. You stand in what looks like a control room, fighting back tears, and wretches, as the doctor spins around you readying for flight “Y/N, come on! We have to leave. They’re gone- The sentence starts again, scene resetting down to the sparks flying. She's gone, we have to go, now,” He virtually screamed at you, something he never did and always refused to do. You nodded, gulping between tears, before hurrying forwards to press buttons, and help. The last thing you felt was a bumpy take off, desperately clinging to both the railings and your memories. Where am I? . You awoke, gasping for air, a tear fresh on your cheek. 

Bee and Gus left promptly the next day, thousands of thank yous between farewells. The snow had melted mostly, some occasional flakes, falling like the ash in your dream. The static hummed low and slow in your mind. It stopped for a second, a split second, when Bee hugged you. You felt your body run cold, your question had received an answer. You shut the door after they left and made excuses to John as you retreated into your bedroom and sat quietly. The word rolling around your mind like a marble. 

Dead. 

[collaredattachment]

Lost

Character: 13th Doctor  Word count: 3,571 Warnings: Mild violence, Big insects Genre: Hurt/Comfort Rating: T

Description: The sky is darkening. Around you the trees only seem to grow taller as their oppressive shadows stretch over frost-covered grass. The forest is as silent as can be when a storm is coming: animals looking for holes to crawl back to, branches brushing against each other in the wind, and your own stuttering breath as the air thickens with the promise of rain.

--

No Doctor and no TARDIS, you find yourself lost in the middle of nowhere with nothing and no one to turn to. Pray the Doctor finds you in time.

A/N: This was originally posted on my DW blog a few years ago so I gave it a new coat of paint and here we are!

---------

There are three things, the Doctor had said, that you ought to remember about Paroxus V. One: the food isn’t fit for a human. You eat it, you die. Hands to yourself. Two: it is infinitely easy to get lost. Stay together. Three: at night, it gets very, very cold.

The sky is darkening. Around you the trees only seem to grow taller as their oppressive shadows stretch over frost-covered grass. The forest is as silent as can be when a storm is coming: animals looking for holes to crawl back to, branches brushing against each other in the wind, and your own stuttering breath as the air thickens with the promise of rain.

Cold sneaks through your light jacket and you shiver. The tree you huddle up against is thick enough to pass for shelter; at least when you drag your knees to your chest and curl up into a ball. It’s better than nothing. You flex your trembling fingers and the skin over your knuckles breaks, revealing tiny beads of blood. You blow into your palms and rub them together. The relief is brief, and is immediately taken away by a chilling gust of wind.

It’s been hours now. Seconds of gasping, frightened breaths had stretched into minutes, into hours, and now the sky was turning black. No sign of the Doctor, no wheezing groan from the TARDIS, nothing. Not even a peep. She might be terrible at parking but this is pushing it.

Admittedly, it was you who had let go of her hand, you who ran off in a panic, you who had wandered further into the dark and brooding trees because you swore you’d seen her coat in the distance. Explicit instruction, as it turns out, means very little when your amygdala is screaming at you to run.

Something cracks in the distance.

You force yourself to stay very, very still, and turn your head to peek past the tree sheltering you. Something stirs the tall grass and the trampled wildflowers a good ten feet away from you. An acrid stench floats in your direction, and nearly sends you into a violent coughing fit. You gag at the sharp, acidic stench, and swiftly wipe your watering eyes. The wind carries heavy, skittering footsteps to your ears, like dozens of legs crawling in the foliage.

A long, arching back, covered in faintly glimmering plating, rises from the grass and stretches into its full height. Hundreds of feet line the body on both sides. On top of its head are two antennae, both the size of your arm.

Your stomach lurches, and acid rises into the back of your mouth. Your hands, placed on the trunk for stability, claw into the bark hard enough to leave small crescent-shaped dents. That thing is massive, big enough to eat you whole.

What would the Doctor do?

Be benevolent. Be kind. Things she keeps telling you and the unfortunate souls you run into; both easier said after a frightening adventure, instead of right now, deep into the hunting grounds of a monstrous centipede.

But in the end it doesn’t matter, because you’re not the Doctor. You’re a human, average in most aspects, equipped with one human heart and one human brain, both of which are on their knees, pleading at you to run or hide.

So far, that’s just instinct. Paleolithic age knowledge overriding your brain to keep you safe. The centipede has made no move to hurt you. It might not even be carnivorous, for all you know.

Out of your view, scampering steps pound against hard dirt, and something emerges from the long grass. A furry animal, quite like a rabbit, shoots into view. The centipede flies into action. It rises further up and arches forward, spewing a foul, pulpy mucus that coats the rabbit, trapping it where it stands. It shrieks in pain, but the sound is drowned out by hundreds of feet approaching, a whine when the centipede throws the rabbit into the air, and a revolting crunch of bones cracking as it finishes its meal. It only takes a moment; ten, fifteen seconds at most.

Bile burns your throat, and you fear you’ll retch; sounds and motions you cannot afford right now. You sneak back behind the tree and you breathe, in and out, silent and slow as you can. Your eyes keep watering but you don’t dare even blink.

Grass shudders, and the centipede crawls to your right. Your heart seizes in your chest, and vivid images of your arms being torn from your person attack your vision.

The sound recedes. Further and further, until you can barely hear it anymore. You look up, and catch a glimpse of the first stars of the night through criss-crossing tree branches.

You count to twenty, savor each number like one of them might magic you away from here, and stop on your favorite one for a good long while. Maybe it has some luck left in it, who knows.

Silence.

You sigh in relief, and the sound is unsteady, jittery, like a butterfly struggling to take flight. It jerks in your chest, a persistent hiccup that threatens to transform into panicked hyperventilation, but you don’t have the time. You squeeze your eyes shut and wipe the tears that come falling. One long, grounding breath, and then you finally dare to take a peek past the tree.

Empty, as far as the eye can see. Night has finally fallen, and everything past fifteen feet turns into a dark, dangerous jumble of unidentifiable, vaguely threatening shapes. You crane your neck to look past the long grass, in the direction of the centipede, but you can’t see anything. The creature could be hiding, biding its time until you make a run for it to gobble you up like a sausage puff, but you have to take that chance. It’s now or never.

You bite into your own cheek hard enough to draw blood, and take your first step. You wait; a moment of anticipatory stillness as your shoe settles firmly into the dirt.

The woods remain silent.

You take another step, and another, each one heavier and more hurried than the last, until you settle into a jog; light enough to hopefully keep you unheard, but quick enough to get you the hell out of here. Branches snag on your clothes, your hair, as if the forest is trying to keep you in its clutches.

Fifteen minutes you trudge through the dark until the eerie silence finally breaks. You freeze, eyes darting over your surroundings in search of a rock, a tree, anything to hide behind. Before you can find any such thing, though, the sound repeats itself.

A voice. This far away, you can’t recognize the owner, but god, it doesn’t matter; there’s someone out here beside you and you’d rather die than let that miracle go. You stand on your toes and strain your ears, praying silently for that someone to wait, to please just wait; you’re here, right here, and they can’t be too far off, if they’d only just—

There it is again. Faint, but growing closer. You laugh, unable to entirely contain the sound and keep it under your breath. The call comes one more time, and you turn to its direction: off the path and even deeper into the woods.

You step over the bushes and push your way past the thicket, ripping handfuls of leaves off their branches in your desperation to move, move, move. Your feet pound against the ground as you finally let yourself run. The trees grow thicker the further you go, but even they can’t muffle the sound: a woman, calling for... for you?

With every step the call gets closer, gets clearer, and it is your name; they’ve finally found you, she’s found you, the Doctor is here and if you could just move faster in this blasted forest, you might catch her before she thinks you’re gone, and then you’re really, properly dead.

You want to call her name, scream for help, but the image of the rabbit disappearing down the centipede’s throat keeps your mouth firmly shut. You can’t risk it. If only there was a faster way to get to—

Your foot doesn’t bounce off the ground. It plunges into the foliage and you follow suit. You roll down the hill face first, sharp stones tearing your clothes and biting into skin, the smaller ones lodging themselves into your flesh. The landing is hard; the grass covering the ground offers very little in the sense of cushioning. When the world stops spinning, your hands fly to your knee to ease the sharp pain crackling there. Sand glitters in the wound right under your kneecap, and sticky, fresh blood lingers on your fingers when you pry them away.

You gently try to move your leg, but cry out, tears stinging your eyes. There’s no way you’re going anywhere like this. You try to even your breath, ears strained again as you try to listen past your heart hammering in your chest.

The voice has gone quiet, but in its stead the earth groans above you. You hear crawling; hundreds of little feet carrying a thick, armored body across frosty grass that crackles and snaps like clacking teeth. The tall grass shifts above you and antennae peek through, followed by a head, and you finally get a glimpse at the centipede’s open maw.

Rows of miniscule, needle-sharp teeth ring its circular mouth as deep as you can see. It’s like the creature has several round jaws that all open and close in their own perplexing rhythm. It’s almost hypnotizing.

Dirt and grass rain down as the centipede crawls down the hill and stops right at your feet. You heave panicked breaths as it rises to its full height and shrieks; a high-pitched, serrated sound, followed by dark spittle that splashes in all directions. You throw your arms in front of your face and howl as it burns through your jacket, your shirt, and leaves a sizzling patch of scorched skin. You gasp and struggle to wrap your head around the feeling of dead nerves and bubbling, weeping skin.

The centipede crawls closer, draws itself further up, and you know what’s coming. A heave, a brief moment of flight, and your flesh torn and rended between thousands of little teeth.

You sink further into the ground, a last ditch effort to hide, to disappear and turn up back home, on asphalt and a city too well-populated and polluted to house anything like the creature in front of you. You look up; one final glimpse of the stars that lured the lot of you on this planet in the first place, and sure enough, you see them. Constellations the local children could name in their sleep, lone planets shining brighter than the rest, and satellites lazily circling the planet on their calculated courses. It’s shocking how little empty space there is on this foreign sky.

You close your eyes.

A high-pitched mechanical whine; a screwdriver pushed past its limit. Panicked voices. Shouting. The centipede’s screech, and a long, heavy body escaping into the thicket. Hurried boots on loose dirt.

A light shines over your face, and you wince. Too bright. Someone tries to pull your arms away from your face but you cry out, and the touch is swiftly withdrawn.

“Christ,” someone whispers, further away.

A hand caresses your cheek and a soft line is drawn across your cheekbone.

“It’s all right.” Northern accent. “The Mexvogel is gone. Off to find easier prey. You’re safe.”

You pry your eyes open. Golden hair, hazel eyes, and a brow drawn in worry; there’s that crease between them, the one Yaz always teases her about. The Doctor’s whole face sheens with sweat and dirt, and her clothes are speckled with grime.

Your gaze is drawn to movement in your periphery: Yaz, Graham and Ryan, all rushing towards you.

“Did you see the size of that thing?” Graham asks. “I’ve only ever seen one in my mate’s flat, in Bristol. It were the size of my finger, though. Not my whole house.”

“Can you sit?” The Doctor offers you her hand as she speaks. You try to take it, but moving only elicits a shock of pain, universally felt. The Doctor’s fingers press against your cheek, and when she draws back, they’re stained with blood.

 “Took a nasty fall, you did. I could’a sworn Mexvogel were extinct by now, especially after the hunt in 3319, but I guess there’s still stragglers. Nasty buggers.”

She takes something from her pocket: a small flashlight, clicked awake to shine directly into your eyes. You try to look away, but the Doctor holds your jaw tightly in her hand. No escape.

“Looks alright,” she mutters, and to your relief, puts the light back in her pocket. “Say something.”

It takes a moment to make sense of the words, the sentences, to parse each one from the next and assign bouncing, meaningless letters meaning; your thoughts are simultaneously scattered in the wind and one big, coagulated jumble.

The Doctor’s face falls.

“Could be concussion,” she says. “Best get you to the TARDIS. Try to stand, if you can.”

You lean forwards and try to shift weight into your legs, but the second you put pressure on your knee you yelp and fall back to the ground. The Doctor frowns, and shares a concerned look with Yaz. They crouch beside you, and your arms are carefully placed over their shoulders.

“Ready?” The Doctor asks, and there’s a small smile on her face, a wrinkle at the corner of her eye; you will be okay. She’ll take care of it. It’s what she does. They heave you to your feet, hands pressed against your back, support to take weight away from your arms. You take a small step, barely move your foot at all, but grind your teeth like whetstone all the same.

“I…” you start, but the words are too far, too much of a mess.

“Shit,” Yaz says under her breath. “What do we do?”

The Doctor looks at you quietly for a moment, and then turns to Yaz. “Let go.” Yaz’s brow shoots to her hairline, but the look the Doctor gives keeps her from questioning orders.

“Alright, alright,” Yaz says, and delicately lets you lean fully against the Doctor. She bends down, puts one arm behind your knees and slides the other around your back.

“On three,” she mutters, and takes a breath. “One, two—“

You wail when she lifts you off your feet, every scrape, burn and bruise begging you to stop, to lie down and die so they can find peace.

The Doctor waits for a moment, and eventually your breath calms, a tear rolls down your cheek, and your head lolls against her chest. The beat of her hearts is fast but steady, their b-bmp b-bmp a sturdy enough anchor to keep you in this world for a small while yet.

“This won’t be entirely painless,” she warns you. “I’ll be jostling you around a bit. But the TARDIS isn’t parked far. You ready?”

She looks you in the eyes, watches for a moment, and there’s that wrinkle again; right between her eyebrows, deep like a crevasse, and probably with just as many worries buried inside.

You nod.

Logically, the trek can’t have been more than a few hundred feet at most, but god, if it doesn’t feel like hours, days of aching muscles and lacerated skin. The Doctor holds you close to her chest, and you take solace in her warmth, try to focus on her heart, her breath, anything to take you away from the misery of your body.

By the time you see the TARDIS, more worn than the time you’d left — her paint chipped and her wood scratched — you’re barely conscious anymore. The dots in your vision grow into a dark expanse that encompasses most of your vision, and Ryan and Yaz sound like they’re bickering beyond a thick, padded wall.

The moment The Doctor crosses the threshold, you’re out.

You wake up to a great, throbbing headache. Your eyelids feel like they’re stuffed with cotton as you open them to the soft lamplight of your bedroom. You’re stuffed under every blanket in the house, built up to an impressive stack. Music is playing, though you don’t recognize the song.

You take a deep breath, and try to move. A groan and a wave of nausea warn you against making a second attempt.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

You slowly turn your head despite the soft ache beneath your temples and find the Doctor sitting by your bedside in your rickety yellow chair, the one with the torn cushion. She’s cross-legged and in her hands are a cup of tea and a book you haven’t seen before. She’s frowning.

“Sorry,” you say, and try to catch her eye. She is determined to only stare at the yellowed, worn down page.

“You’re lucky, you know,” she says. There’s an edge in her voice, a silent anger she seems reluctant to voice. She takes a sip, and turns the page. “Most people end up in shreds if they run into a Mexvogel.”

Your lip curls. “I didn’t exactly intend for this to happen, thanks.”

The Doctor’s grip around the cup tightens. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Your mouth drops open, and you scoff. “You could at least look at me if you’re going to say something like that.”

The Doctor takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and sighs. She snaps the book shut and drops it on the floor next to her. The thud is soft against your ragged carpet.

This time she looks you deep in the eye, unblinking and unflinching as she says, “You could have died.”

“I didn’t,” you say, and find your eye-contact slipping despite your best efforts. The Doctor’s face thunders with the storm gathering inside her, and you’re on a direct course into the middle.

“You have no idea,” The Doctor says, her voice growing tighter, louder. “We got back to the TARDIS and you were gone, couldn’t find you anywhere. We asked everyone, ran around for hours, and finally some kids had seen you stumble into the bloody woods.”

Tears threaten to blur your vision, and you can’t even lift your arms enough to wipe them away.

“Thank the stars I have your biopattern saved in the TARDIS’s memory or we would’ve never found you in there.” Her voice thickens and wavers. “Why would you go in there?”

You unclench your jaw and sniff. “Thought I saw you.” “Where?” she asks, and rests her forehead against her palms.

“Just… There. Running. Do you think I’d just wander in there for the sake of it? See the sights?”

It’s the Doctor’s turn to go quiet, to look away and rub her temples as she grimaces. “No, I—“

“You’re an arse,” you say. The Doctor breathes for a few quiet moments and looks out the window. A group of teens is passing by, horribly drunk. One of them stumbles, and almost falls over, but her friend catches her by the waist. “I’m sorry,” the Doctor whispers. “You don’t deserve this, I— I was so worried. You humans can be so unpredictable; centuries I’ve spent on this planet and I still can’t figure out what the lot of you are thinking, sometimes.” “I’m here,” you say. “I’m safe.” “You could’ve—“ “I didn’t.” She watches you, curiously. Her eyes are red-rimmed and the bags underneath are so purple they look painted on. She heaves a sigh, and places her hand by your cheek on the pillow. “May I—“ “Yes,” you whisper, and she cradles your face in her palm. Her hand is warm where it held the teacup, and you smile softly into it. “How long until I get to leave the bed?” “If it were up to me? A week.” The Doctor sighs. “But you’re too stubborn. Three days.” You groan. “Minimum. No strenuous activity of any kind, you hear me? Yaz will stay here with you.” Sadness pinches your heart. “Are you going somewhere?”

The Doctor looks exhausted. The way her eyes are half-closed, her mouth drawn into a tight line, she should be stuck in bed just as much as you.

“I have to,” she says, her voice crackling as if she’d just woken. “It’s personal.”

You wish she didn’t do this. The secrets, the vague destinations, the places she’s not ready to show you yet. This is the anxious Doctor, the one that needs to keep her heart to herself.

“You’ll come visit me, at least?” you ask her, hopeful. “If I have to be stuck here, at least come show your face a few times. Make it worth it.”

She smiles, and her eyes glow in the soft light, their color shifting into a luscious light brown as she leans forward, her hair casting a shadow over her face. “’Course,” she murmurs and picks up the book. This time you get a good look at the cover: two women embracing, topless, on a ship. One of them is wearing a big, poofy gown, and the other is dressed in gaudy pirate apparel. “What’s that you’re reading?” you ask her, and she lights up like an industrial grade flashlight. “Now this,” she says, and lifts the book up so you can see properly, “is the height of Delos VI literature. Top seller round their galaxy. Can’t go anywhere without seeing at least one.” “What’s it about?” The Doctor stops, her mouth slightly open. She bites her tongue and scans the room with excessive detail, eyes flitting from corner to lamp to desk to corner. “It’s, uh.” She drums her fingers on the cover. “Yeah?” “See, I’m not sure you’ll appreciate it the way you’re supposed to,” she starts, “because erotica with telekinetic themes and multiple realities isn’t a thing on Earth yet, and you’ll get there, I know, but see, it’s not happening right now, so you don’t have the perspective of a multiversal encounter to really give it the depth that—“ “It’s porn?” “Well, technically yes, but—“ “Read it for me?” She stops, entirely, down to the tips of her fidgety fingers. Her eyes slowly drift to you. “You want me to read it?” “I do,” you croak, too worn out to speak anymore. She gives you a look, the kind that suspicious dog owners have if their beloved pets have something in their mouths. “Alright then,” she says, and cracks the book open. “In the previous chapter…” You try to listen. You really, really do, but the Doctor narrates so softly, and the beginning paragraph is so abysmally bad you automatically tune her out. The last thing you remember before nodding off is her hand reaching under the blankets to take yours, her thumb running over your bruised knuckles slowly, taking in every ridge and bump of bone. You wonder how you ever got this lucky.

[sanjis-moulinrouge]

Until Dawn: The Chat

Zoro x Sanji

Summary: The Strawhats have a costume party at an island, Zoro and Sanji finally have the chance to share things that seemed impossible.

a/n: Fluff for part one. English is not my first language, so my apologies if something sounds weird.

AO3 link

Zoro contemplated how the crew moved agitatedly from one room to another looking for accessories and appropriate clothing for the costume event on the island. Robin and Nami were almost ready, they were helping each other with some details, fastening and arranging the folds of fabrics. Robin was wearing a hooded purple cloak making her look like an ancient death divinity, Nami was a sorceress in a white dress covered by a long velvet cape, and Chopper was their mysterious companion.

"It's been a long time since we've done something like this... it makes me a little anxious, I’m starting to feel sick. Who’s going to be checkin’ Merry?" Usopp said while the doctor tried to calm his insecurities.

“Chill-out, Usopp. We’re safe here, the villagers are very nice” replied Nami. “And trust me, I guess Zoro will be watching it.”

Sanji walked down the corridor, leaving behind the aroma of cigarettes. He put on elegant patent leather shoes, wearing a sober, completely black outfit.

“Wooa, Sanji, are you going as a detective?" Luffy asked as he saw him putting on a long scarlet coat.

"No, I'll make sure to go as a vampire… maybe I got the chance to surprise ladies…”

Robin approached Sanji, put a top hat on him, part of her collection, and lifted the collar of his coat. "Now you look more mysterious, cook," she giggled. 

"ROBIN-CHAAAAAN, SO SWEET" 

Zoro was about to fall asleep when suddenly he saw Sanji's figure kneeling in front of him.  

“Marimo, are you coming with us?”

He nodded yawning. 

“Oeee Zoroooo, I don't see your costume?” Luffy shouted while wearing the famous afro wig and Usopp had already entered character to act as his representative.

“I will go as a swordsman” 

“Whaaaat” the whole crew exclaimed.

“At least change the outfit, loser?” Nami sighed as she stood Zoro up, she quickly led him to his room. “You have a kimono, be creative... we leave in 10 minutes.”

He left the ship following the crew. He decided to wear the nagagi and haori in a semi formal way, but it felt much more comfortable. His figure was elegant. He walked slower than other times, he didn’t want to receive any comment from the nakamas.

Sanji turned around rapidly while smoking. As soon as he detected Zoro, he felt a little dazed, in his mind he tried to remember other occasions where Marimo looked refined but couldn’t recall. He also didn't want to think about it so much, after all it was just a new Zoro’s image on his brain, he would get used to it later.

The cook’s footsteps were heard all the way to the tavern. The place was giant, it was divided into a bar with different types of liquor, live music, and a restaurant. 

“Guys, this place is extremely crowded. Let’s stay in the groups we’ve planned” Nami affirmed.

As the group spreads, Sanji and Zoro reluctantly got together.

“I don’t see many ladies around, Cook”

“Oh shut up or i’ll kick you”

“I’ll be at the bar”

“Gonna check what they have on the menu, but don’t move from the bar, mosshead” 

“Don’t tell me what to do” Zoro barked as he drank sake.

The lighting switched, a new band was performing and people gathered to dance. After a while, Zoro decided to go out and walk around the hall, glancing at some aisles, he was reassured to see Luffy and Usopp eating and laughing at tables in the corner.

The restaurant had a wide variety of menus, he saw Sanji in the background, talking passionately to what appeared to be the kitchen staff, his genuine smile made his blue eyes sparkle, Zoro couldn’t deny his gentle beauty, the smoothness of his costume accentuated his features and his gestures of awe did not go unnoticed either. This was one of the few times where the swordsman could appreciate the cook’s smile and enthusiasm as a stranger, accepting the qualities for himself but never finding the right moment to put it into words.

Overwhelmed with feelings, he left to get some fresh air. Sanji, on the other hand, interrupted the chatter to go back to Zoro. As he approached the bar, he noticed the absence.

The strong lights, the crowd and the heat of the place made the cook uncomfortable. “Shit, where did he go?” He asked the bartender and then other customers, but they couldn't give details. “This asshole,” he thought. “He should be on the ship by now.” 

Sanji went out of the tavern fast, there were a few people outside, mostly drunk pirates on the floor. The blond took a long sigh, lit a cigarette and entered a nearby alley. Despite the dim lights he could walk, the pavements were small and sometimes zigzagged but not to get lost. At the end of the street, he sat down on a bench and lit a cigarette, a breeze soothed the high temperatures he had brought from the bar.

“You shouldn't let your guard down here” he heard as he felt one of Zoro’s swords behind his shoulder.

“mmm, get that shit out of me”

Zoro sheathed the sword and sat down on the other side of the bench.

“Why are you here?” the swordsman voiced.

“Apparently, someone idiot was about to get lost” 

“But… I found you” he goaded sarcastically.

“Do you want to be alone? Why don’t you go to Merry and get some sleep? It would give me… a break to enjoy the party”

“You piss me off, curly” Zoro muttered as he stood up in a dizzy way.

“Are you drunk, shitty mosshead? Why are you staring at me like this?”

Zoro observed Sanji’s posture, there was something exquisite in the way he sat, his long crossed legs looked extremely stylized in the suit, he had a defiant look while he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette.

“I should be the one asking if you’re drunk” Zoro scolded as he got closer.

“I'm not the one who’s swinging while standing up, I’m not even acting silly…”

The swordsman’s heartbeat was struggling, he didn't know how much longer he could cope with the distance, he felt so bewitched that it was difficult to contain himself being alone with the cook, that's why he avoided spending time alone with him, he fought internally to not lose control.

After a silence, their eyes met for a short moment, Sanji began to walk back to the tavern.

Sanji's silhouette moved quickly, the blood-red color of his coat made him look paler and more intimidating than he really was. Zoro rushed over stealthily, grabbing him by the arm.

"Oi oi marimo! Do you need something?" Sanji uttered. 

Zoro noticed his impulse and the strength with which he held the cook's forearm.

"You're right. I'll go back to the ship," he said as he looked down.

In the middle of the night, footsteps prowled around the kitchen, the drawers of the shelves opened and closed.

"Shitty cook?" Zoro asked. Through the window he perceived Sanji contemplating the island lights and sky.

"too early to be back tho"

"I wanted to drink something here. I left some sake in the kitchen and pantry" Sanji's sleepy eyes looked huge, they normally stood out at night with the lights, but now they were much more piercing as he did the offer. Zoro was again starting to become nervous as he contemplated how his features harmonized with the silly disguise.

"Take off that stupid hat," he rasped suddenly.

“Do you want to wear it, asshole?” he replied as he walked back to the kitchen.

Zoro followed him with his gaze.

"I brought wine and sake, mosshead. Do you want some?”

Sanji was eager to see if Zoro would be open to drinking with him in that situation, all alone. 

He unbuttoned his coat before pouring the liquors, Zoro slowly approached to sit on the island in front of him. 

“The hat, eyebrows.”

"you're obsessed with the damn hat...aren’t you? Sanji exhaled. “don't make me bitter. Not because you’re not feeling your character and custom it means I’m going to take this shit off…”

“you don’t look like a vampire”

“you don’t look like a swordsman. Are you escaping from yourself?” he emphasized as he ran his finger over the glass of wine.

“What are you implying, curly brow?”

“I like accessories… with them you could try other things. They can highlight things about you, physical features, personality features…You must feel something different by being dressed like this… marimo… your look is…” he couldn’t continue with the train of thoughts. Zoro had his eyes fixed on him.

“Are you drunk?”

Sanji placed his hat on Zoro's head.

“Seriously, did you drink or eat something else, lovecook? Are you sober?”

“I’m more conscious than ever. Drink the fuckin’ sake, so you stop asking the same stupid questions”

“Cook… since when you like vampires?” Zoro inquired while Sanji lit a cigarette. 

“since I was little, but no one had ever asked”

“why do you find them appealing?” Zoro’s tone had already calmed down. It seemed he was fully interested in knowing Sanji’s perspective.

“They’re mysterious and romantic creatures. They struggle to survive, stories tell some of them starve to death to not damage their beloved ones, others say that they’re evil creatures cause they kill indiscriminately… They’re enigmatic, passionate. Blood is their source, their ecstasy, their food. They depend on it. It's a nice metaphor for life itself. Blood as wine can symbolize plenty of things… desire, lust, fervent love. What if vampires smell blood as we smell liquors…and that’s how desire leads them to their prey or immortal companion. 

Sanji’s words made Zoro tremble, he was with such a natural and carefree attitude that they had not noticed how close they were, he could feel the cook's legs collide with his under the small kitchen’s island. His voice was alluring, suddenly Zoro couldn’t take his eyes from his lips. It felt like everything was in slow motion. His storytelling sounded like soft whispers, the moment became intimate as if Sanji was trusting him with his deepest thoughts. 

“Tempted by senses…blood… makes them lose their inhibitions. Wine makes us lose our inhibitions too…” in an instant Zoro's warm lips pressed tightly against his, the cook couldn't even react… their breaths were heavy, a rush of heat reached both. Sanji’s body started to shiver, wishing the moment was eternal.

[sour-heart-treats]

[Almnesia Was His Name Pt. 4 - CW: Memory Loss - Previous, Next]

The hospital lights were a lot brighter than Almond wished for them to be. Sitting in the waiting room of the hospital Latte had booked him for had the detective more than a bit fidgety. It reminded him too much of the times he was stuck inside waiting for a moment to escape and grab a smoke. Though rather than wanting to escape for a cigarette, he was more worried about his work and the discovery that there could be something wrong with him. His unfocused gaze stared so deep into the floor that he may as well be digging it out, he would only be interrupted from his anxieties by the shifting of his overcoat. Perking up and rubbing at his eyes to get a clearer vision, he'd look to his side and find Walnut trying to slink underneath his coat. "It's cold..." She'd complain lightly, the fact that there were metal arms on the chairs between them making this whole crawling situation more awkward for the both of them.

The older detective looked away for a moment, unsure of what entirely to do. He didn't even realize it was that cold until it was mentioned. Right... what would be the 'mom' thing to do in this situation? "Uh." Alm buffered a response, then decided perhaps it would be better to just give up his coat. It's not like he was wearing it properly anyway, even if the cold got to his body before it got to his brain. "Here, kid. You can have it until you get too warm, okay?" There was a happy little 'yay!' from the kid as she practically snatched the overcoat from Almond's shoulders and put it on herself with practiced ease. Ha. She looked cute wearing something way too big for her.

"Mothers always know best, huh?" The second voice nearly startled Almond out of his chair. Whipping around, he'd practically forgotten that Latte was here. Right... Walnut needed someone to watch over her while he was getting checked on. Whatever that entailed... he wasn't exactly looking forward to it. "Right, yea, Mother knows best," the investigator would echo half-heartedly, hoping that his heart that tried beating out of his chest would calm before he was called back. Right. Since he was here, he may as well pry some information out of his colleague. "So... how are they gonna go about this whole thing? Scan my brain with magic or something?" The medical magical field may be well-researched and strongly supported, but as someone who's run across so many uses of magic malpractice...

"Oh, no, not at all! This place actually uses a lot of alternative methods to magic instead! I know how you are when it comes to medmagic." He doesn't recall ever expressing distaste for it, but perhaps that's just his demeanor giving it away. "There's this one doctor that I've heard hasn't failed a patient yet! I'm surprised I was able to schedule something so soon... and something that matched your schedule, too!" "Sure, 'matched'... If my communicator goes off, then I will have to dart out of here. You know that, right?" "Well, at least you won't be leaving Walnut all alone again!" Almond does not want to acknowledge the multiple times he has forgotten Walnut at the local park or school from having to commit to his duties at his second job. If he has to pretend to be some child's mom, can't he at least pretend to be a good mom? Though... he does feel horrible about it, as much as he wants to push that into the back of his mind and forget about it. It's not as if he could remember the kid's name for more than ten minutes at a time.

"Almond Cookie. Almond, the doctor is ready to see you." Oh. It's time. The detective would take a deep breath and push himself up from his chair, feeling a lingering chill on his hands from the metal bars of the chair's arms as he'd take a few steps then pause. Alm glanced behind him, making sure the two were following before following whatever nurse was going to give him a briefing and whatever else. Height and weight gauging, going over the medical history he had- noting that he didn't have any form of memory issues beforehand. Whilst that was being mentioned, Almond side-eyed Walnut, wondering if she should really be hearing this part. She didn't seem to mind, though, clinging to Latte's side and just enjoying the coat that was far beyond her proper size. It made him... smile. Wally wasn't something he'd expect to care for much, but in fleeting moments like these, he'd find that there was something in his mind that liked it far more than just anyone else's child grinning from ear to ear.

Most general go-overs were a blur. They were nothing important and were promptly treated as such by the detective's mind. It wasn't until his mind was prompted back to focus by a slab of red coming into his vision. Oh... the doctor. Blinking back to take in his surroundings properly, he was sat on the cushioned bed-turned-chair of an examination room. To his side, seats filled by the two ladies that'd come with him. Latte seemed to be staring at him worriedly while holding the kiddo's hand. The little one on the other hand seemed to be curious about her surroundings and staring at the doctor who greeted them all warmly. "Good afternoon! I'm Dr. Cassonade... I heard that you all are here with some concerns about memory issues?" Latte would nod, turning her attention to the medical professional. Red suit, dark brown hair with orange-ish speckles of brown sugar darted through it, dark green tie, and glasses reminiscent of a certain lawyer... This was the one she'd heard about, certainly. "Yes! Yes, I'm certain you've heard about the oddities... We were wondering if you could see if something had gone on to cause this."

The doctor would nod, looking between the two in the chairs before raising their gaze to Almond, who stared back incredulously. "You must be Almond, I assume? It is very nice to meet you!" Such warmth would only be met with a gruff 'mhm'. Cassonade stood awkwardly still at the unfriendly response, though continued to smile and acted as if the moment hadn't happened. He'd head to the other side of the small room the four were all in, poking at some monitor with information that Almond couldn't see from where he sat. Probably a whole bunch of medical mumbo-jumbo he couldn't begin to understand. "Right," Casso would begin, "when it comes to things like this... I would first like to do some prerequisite testing. See what you do and don't remember- along with some general mental faculty tests! Now, most of it was done when you completed the check-in form-" he doesn't remember filling one of those out, but he does remember holding a pen recently for some reason, "-I still have other things I wish to check... Like response time and personal memory!"

The doc would lean out from behind their monitor and look at non-patients with a certain softness that Almond almost read as some form of empathy. "So, for that, I'll need to be alone with Almond here, if that's okay? You can stand outside, I just need the room for us." "Oh, sure!" Latte chirped, gracefully standing up and adjusting her hat with her still available hand. "Come on, sweetie. Mom's going to have the doctor make sure he's all healthy and happy, okay?" "Okay!" The mentioned 'sweetie' would follow behind Latte, though would keep the heavy door open for just a moment as she stared down the medic with something akin to scorn. Though she looked more like an angry puppy than anything else. "You better make mommy feel better!!" There was a laugh from Casso as they gave her a pat on the helmet that Almond found nearly gave him a knee-jerk reaction of a growl. Why would he...? He doesn't know this kid.

Once the door was closed, Dr. Cassonade would take a deep breath and keep that damned smile on their face. They adjusted their glasses, then reached into a drawer underneath the screen that they were using earlier to pull out a whiteboard, marker, and sterile cleaning rag. "What is this, elementary school?" Almond would state with underlying scorn. How is this supposed to show that he has memory issues? "I know, I know... It may seem childish, but I promise it will help! Unless you'd... like to just tell me your answers verbally." "Yes. Yes, I would." "A-ah, alright then!" And thusly, the objects would be put away in favor of some flash cards. Two packs, one with shapes, colors, numbers... and one with people- with the second one looking handmade. Equally as degrading to see. He's not five! He's-... how old was he again? Ugh, that didn't matter! "Now, I'm going to show you some simple images, and I want you to identify them, okay? If you don't recognize one, just tell me and I'll tell you what it is and skip to the next one. Does that sound alright to you?" Almond rubbed at his face, reluctant but nodding all the same. "Sure, sure. Let's just get this over with."

Answering the cards was a breeze, truly. These were things anybody knew. Animals, shapes, colors, and numbers, all things someone would learn in early years of school. It was almost patronizing how delighted the doctor was to see him succeed at something so simple. Every time they'd write something down, he couldn't help but glower at the medic. This almost felt like being at a pediatric's office rather than being at an actual hospital. "Alright, I'm happy to say that things are going relatively swimmingly right now, but... this may be a lot harder for you." That second set of flashcards seemed to tease him the way it glinted under the room's lights, which were still too bright for him to enjoy. Perhaps he's been taking too many late-night calls and the brightness was becoming adverse for him. The doctor took off the rubber band that held the cards together, picking out the first of what was arguably a very thin deck. "These are people that I've heard you've been close to. Family, friends, coworkers... All of those. Don't feel bad if you don't remember all of them! Heck, even I forget some of the names of the ones I've worked with for months..." The doctor gave a light laugh, then turned over the first card for Almond to look at.

Some dark-eyed person with brown and white hair, looking sleep-deprived in his black and purple garments. Silence fell through the room, a bead of sweat forming on the investigator's forehead from the lack of recognition. "I... don't know." He'd admit in a low voice, trying to hide whatever shame was bubbling in his chest. "That's Cappuccino," the doctor would answer for him, "he's a friend of yours. He's a very famous prosecutor! From what I've heard, you two share case information all the time..." Odd. He should know this person. Hell, he saw those texts a while back with that name! Ugh, at least some of the dots connected. "Next card?" Casso would ask, earning a hesitant nod.

A person with slitted eyes, wearing a cloak with an oversized collar. With glasses like that, some suit that seemed to double as a lab coat... It took a bit too long, but Almond knew this one. "That's... Espresso, isn't it? One of the Parfaedia teachers?" A coworker, albeit one he didn't speak to much. Didn't he work on coffee magic or something with Latte? "Good! Next one!" "Eclair." "Yes! The museum curator. You looked into multiple cases of thieves trying to get into his museum every now and then... And who is this?" "Ruh... Phan..." Almond had to parse through his thoughts for a moment, but gave a proper answer to the expectant doc whose smile looked a little less infantilizing. "Phantom Bleu." "Yes, famous phantom thief! Who wouldn't know them?" Hypothetical question, of course. Especially since the detective barely held any memory of who that was outside of some newspaper bits that he'd read over the past few days... with the exact details missing from his thoughts. "And this one?" "Oh, Latte." "Nice, yes! She came in with you, just like..." Though there was a given hint, the image before him gave a blank. He'd just seen her. He'd given her something to stay warm- though Almond had to reach back to realize that his overcoat wasn't there to remember what he'd given-...

There was a sudden migraine in his head as something tried to claw its way out of his mind. Almond raised a hand to his head, to which the doctor looked at him worriedly. "No need to stress! You know her, certainly..." That didn't make things better. Squeezing a portion of his hair to try and lessen the pain, he'd try to pry out an answer. The little girl with the sweetest smile and ponytail that looked just like her name... what was... who was she again? What was her name? "I..." He didn't know. He didn't know the little one with the helmet and little detective garb, who felt so important in his heart but was lost in his mind. Stress-induced sweat dripped down the side of the commissioner's face before the card was inevitably given a name. "Walnut... you know her." He should. He should, and yet... "I don't... I don't know her." Why did his face feel red? Why did his head hurt so much? Where did this sudden spike of stress come from?

The doctor would write a quick note with his one open hand and approach Almond with haste at the sight of the other's mental starting to deteriorate with the onset of panic. "Ah, it's okay! You are okay, I promise-... Simply because you may not remember your daughter right now doesn't mean-" "How could I not remember my own daughter?! How is that in any way okay?!" The detective's raised voice would cause the doctor to flinch, a few specks of brown sugar falling from their hair before they composed themself and took the patient's hand. Not the best course of action, especially if the patient was adverse to touch- he was- but... "Deep breaths. Your mind may just be a little scrambled right now. We still need to run a few more so we can determine what's wrong with you...! If there is anything-" "Do you hear yourself?! Of course there is! How could I-" Almond paused, breath stifling to the point where Cassonade had gotten worried that his heart stopped. But no... Something had brought a sudden soothing sensation across him. Or- at least- it left him numb. The detective blinked and looked down at the card that was in the medic's hand, seemingly mildly confused. "...and who is that supposed to be?"

-

"Wally, sweetheart... you shouldn't be peeking in on your mother..." Latte would give a very light scold, looking up from her phone to see Walnut's back with her body pressed against the door. Her helmet was set on the ground so that she could more firmly press against the hardwood and determine what was being said. And though Latte wouldn't get a response at first, the moment she gave Walnut a light touch, the child would rip away from her. Swinging around to face Latte, Walnut would look at the teacher with tears in her eyes. "He... he forgot about me..." She'd whimper, one hand gripping the coat that was practically half on the floor from her lack of height. "Huh? Sweetie, no, he'd never-..."

"He doesn't remember me!! He- he knows you, but not me!" A sob tore itself from Walnut's throat as Latte would kneel to her height. Her hand would hover over the child's shoulder. "I bet mom doesn't even love me anymore!! How- how could he-?!" Latte's heart hurt. How does she even begin to explain the situation at hand? "Mommy still loves you sweetie, it's just that he's... his brain is being a little weird right now." "IT'S BEING MEAN!! HE'S BEING MEAN!!" Walnut whipped off the overcoat, pausing for a moment with the cloth balled up in her hands while her breathing stuttered from the emotional agony that coursed through her. Though it wasn't processing entirely, she knew that she was hurting. Her mother forgot her. Everything they did together- it meant Nothing to him!! With a screeching yell, Walnut would throw the overcoat she'd been wearing at Latte and run off. And though the teacher tried reaching for Walnut, being pelted in the face with the elder's jacket made her unable to see well enough- or at all, for that matter- to catch her. By the time the coat had been pulled off, dragging her hat off with it, Walnut was already turning the corner of the hospital hallway.

"...oh dear." Latte stood herself up, brushing herself off and picking up Almond's jacket to hold as she gave chase. "This is- This is going to be a long car ride home...!"

[eggcompany]

The Fileman and the Forgotten Bird

Oswald Cobblepot was put in Arkham though he doesn't know why, he can't quite remember. One night he's walking the halls, reason forgotten, and stumbled upon Ed working in the file room. Neither of them could guess they would fall for each other so much... They'd have never guessed they'd end up sharing a bed, sharing Oswald's conjugal visit.

Oswald liked walking the halls at night. It was quiet. He didn’t get out of bed just to walk the halls. There had been a reason… he just couldn’t remember what it was.

Maybe it was because he was cold. He was cold now or at least his socked feet were against the tile.

He made his way to the medical office wing and traced his finger down the cement block walls. He always came this way when he was cold and now, he didn't need to think to get there, his feet brought him there when he caught chills. Or when he was hungry. Or really any other time he felt something and got up out of bed. His feet just brought him limping through the halls to the sterile scented wing.

He just kept walking until he came upon an open door to a file room. Poking his head in he saw a man his age at the desk writing something on a paper.

Usually there were only cleaning people at night. And one or two doctors but Oswald couldn't think of a time he'd seen this man. But then again, they could have met a million times over.

He stood in the doorway and watched the man. He was a very attractive man. Thin and cute. Slender strong hands and glasses that suited him well. A very handsome man.

Especially when he looked up at the pajama covered patient. And smiled. Perfect white straight teeth, eyes green and sparkling, skin perfect and soft looking.

“Hello there.” Ed said and looked around Oswald for a nurse. Patients weren’t usually alone in the halls. Edward didn't run into many patients, to Doctor Thompkins’ dismay. He worked nights filing for a reason, he wasn’t good with the patients.

“Hi” Oswald said and stepped forward looking around the room before sitting down on a chair in the corner. This was nice. He had a friend. This room was nice. Full of filing cabinets and a printer and a shredder and a desk and a friend. It felt like... a safe place. And this was his friend. The staff were all friends… mostly friends.

"Do you need something?" Edward asked and watched the short little thing sit straight backed with his feet swinging. The patient was… probably about his age, cute, short, blue eyes kinda fuzzy but blindly happy.

"I don't know." Oswald said and shrugged his shoulders a bit. He was sure he needed something; he just wasn't sure what.

Edward was a little confused by that and set down his pencil to focus on the other boy.

“Are you here because you’re sick?” The dark-haired boy shook his head and looked at the map of Gotham hung up on the wall, framed. It was actually a puzzle Edward had done with more than 5000 pieces. 

It was oddly familiar to Oswald, like he'd seen the puzzle before. Or maybe it was all the lines?

He leaned in a bit to get a closer look, brain focused on trying to place why it was familiar.

“No? Are you just here to visit me then?” Ed asked light-heartedly. There were a lot of patients here who got lost often. It was easier to just ask them a few things and make sure they’re okay.... But they usually never wondered once they were put to bed, or at least not to the med wing.

They usually went to the cafeteria or recreational areas. Places that were happy or full of people usually. Not where they go when they hurt or are sick. Especially not down into the records hall.

“I- I don’t remember why I got out of bed. I think I was cold. I’m cold. Doctor Thompkins gives me these little thingies that get warm. I put them in my- my socks. It helps me sleep.” The patient said in a scattered way. He looked calm though, feet swinging easily and hands laying lax in his lap.

Edward nodded and thought about it until he came up with it. Perhaps this unusual situation was going to be a good distraction. A puzzle. Ed loved puzzles.

"The snap heating packs? The small colorful packs, they're sort of jelly like?" Edward asked and held his hands up making a square with his thumbs and forefingers. He knew those kinds of heating packs were more favorable than the dry heat ones that rely on body heat to warm up. Plus, they were easy to clean and easy to reset in the kettle.

"Yes! The nurse sometimes gives me purple ones, but Doctor Thompkins always gives me purple ones because I like purple. It's even- even on my door, my name is purple it's got a- a penguin sticker because some- some of the people who knew me call me penguin and and I like it. I like having a nickname. But my sign, it's got a penguin and then a big sticker O that's all glittery and then when I first got here I had to figure out how to hold like pens and stuff again and they gave me a huge pack of crayons cause I’m only allowed to have crayons but that's okay I really like them and I wrote the rest in this kinda shiny purple so the O is a-a sticker and then the S-W-A-L-D is all my- my handwriting. I've redone it a few times, but I like it. I like my sign. It- I can always remember it." Oswald rambled on; he liked talking to people. He liked talking to people when they wanted to talk to him. And the way the other man's eyes were focused on him, and he nodded along with each silly little explanation made Oswald feel seen and listened too. It made him happy, made him smile.

“Oswald that’s a very nice name. Did you know that it means Divine Power?” Ed asked and watched the twinkle in the patient's eyes at that.

Oswald… Waldo, Ozzy, Oz, Penguin…. Penguin…. Ed thought as the boy started to ramble on again. The nickname nearly reminded him of something, but he just couldn’t place it.

“My mother named me but but she spelled it differently, I spell it the English way. She- she spelled our last name differently too. It's Cobblepot for me because I got my-my birth certificate here but hers was Kapelput.” Oswald explained and Edward nodded. Oswald nodded and looked back to the map on the wall, seemingly done talking for the moment.

The assistant turned away and quickly typed in the name. Oswald Cobblepot.

Drowned. Suffers from short term memory loss and episodes of severe confusion and has a habit of self-harm. Likes sweets and hugs/physical affections. Injured right leg, heavy limp, occasional crutch or wheelchair.

Dangerous! If wearing civilian shoes, please alert security and do not make contact.

Well, that's...Odd. The man sitting in front of him was so small and cute, petite and social, how could he be so dangerous as to have such a bold red warning?

He was cute as his cheeks drew up in a happy excited smile and his legs swung in an arrhythmic way. He was at least half a foot shorter than Ed and his pajamas hung loosely around him. He spoke well, scattered and jumpy but coherent and pronounced.

Edward shook his head a bit, patients here could be... very deceiving in their looks. Like that adorable kid who came in for therapy who also threw knives at people in the park.

Better to check and make sure.

Ed stood up and stretched his arms over his head looking down at Oswald’s fuzzy purple socks.

Safe. At least positively sure. Not for a moment did Edward fear the other man. He had a gut feeling that his patient was particularly… well that they were going to get along.

“Well Mr. Cobblepot, why don’t we get some heat packs and go back to bed. It’s late, you know.” Ed said and touched his pockets feeling for his keys and phone.

He grinned at the patient who lifted himself up onto his feet, taking a moment to get his balance before grinning up at the other man.

“Okay! Mister...um… I forgot your name. I'm sorry.” Oswald apologized and looked down; he wanted to call this man ‘mister’ too since he'd used the same honorific. Names were just the hardest to remember.

Edward stuck his hand out in a polite way, bowing his head slightly, soft smile gracing his lips.

“You didn’t forget I never told. I’m Edward Nygma. Ed for short.” Edward said and Oswald awkwardly grabbed his hand for a soft jerky handshake before pulling it back and looking somewhere to the side of Ed's shoulder.

“Oh, okay can- could you help me to my room I… I can't remember how to get back to it from here.” Oswald asked, looking down with shame and sadness. It was embarrassing knowing where he was, who he was, but just not getting all the details together. Though he doubted not asking for help would make it any better and it’s better to ask than to get lost, or in trouble.

Ed was quick to stand closer to the shorter man and rub his shoulder. His profile said he likes hugs so a bit of physical touch should make him feel better even if Ed was a bit…. Odd about touching.

“Of course, Mr.Cobblepot! It's no trouble at all, I should get up to stretch my legs. May I see your bracelet to see what your room is?” Edward asked and motioned slightly toward the bright white band that was wrapped around every patient's wrist.

“Bracelet?” Oswald said looking confused at where Ed was pointing, like the white band wasn't registering to him, like it wasn’t catching his eye.

“Here let me see this for a moment.” Edward said and gently grasped the man’s surprisingly callused spindly hands. Oswald gasped a bit and looked at his own wrist. Surprised to see the band that seemingly just turned up.

“I didn’t know that was there. I’m sorry.” Oswald said in a spacey way.

He wasn't focused on speaking; he was more so enthralled with the way the other's hand wrapped completely around his wrist like a warm safe cuff of pure gentleness. Edward’s long, strong, cozy warm fingers that gently grazed over the numbers on the plastic band caught Oswald’s attention, making his eyes grow big and dark and his belly to start to feel a bit funny.

“No worries Mr. Cobblepot. You walked a long way tonight. Does your leg hurt?” Ed asked and closed the door behind them as they made their way into the hallway. He quickly locked it before starting the walk all the way across the third floor.

C Level Room 134.

That was... on the opposite side of the building and through many hallways.

“Oh… it’s okay. I- I- Doctor Thompkins makes me wear a brace at night cause I roll around a lot and- and it’ll dislocate. She makes me get ready for bed with a nurse because I have to have some help.” Oswald said, face turning quite red. He didn’t know if this man was a nurse or not. And he didn’t really even like the nurses knowing about his knee and hip braces or his nighttime routine because of his bed wetting.

“Ah, I understand. If you need a break let me know. I know where they keep the wheelchairs.” Edward reassured as he kept his pace leisurely. He didn’t want to make the much shorter man hurry to keep up with his own long strides.

Their footsteps echoed through the empty halls, Ed’s smooth and even and Oswald's a bit arrhythmic but together they made an almost.... melodic pace.

“Do you… are you a nurse? Or- or a doctor?” Oswald asked as they slowly made their way through the doors leaving the medical wing to walk through the recreation and cafeteria section. Each door Edward would open and hold for the patient to make his way through.

“Oh no, I’m just an assistant to Doctor Thompkins. I also work in the file room; I organize and shred documents and keep the files nice and neat. I also work at the police department doing just about the same thing. I prefer it here though, it’s a much nicer place.” Ed said and bent down to whisper the last part like it was a secret.

Oswald giggled and smiled, capturing Ed’s full attention.

God he was cute.

Short with big blue eyes like icebergs on the sea and pitch-dark hair all short and spiky over his forehead that left cute round ears poking out and his pointy nose turn peachy red with blush, perfect pale skin with only the faintest freckles trying to show across his cheeks, a certain charm that showed through his stuttered jumbled speech.

Edward didn’t even notice himself giggling lightly with him as they passed the separating doors and entered the hall of therapy rooms. He made himself pull his eyes away from the other man and cleared his throat, clearing away the odd tickly feeling he was getting in his chest. 

“I-I like it here. I tried to go back to my mother, but I couldn’t find her. Our apartment was empty and- and then I tried to go find my friend but-but… well I ended up here and at first it was awful because I was so scared, and they were all mean to me but then Doctor Thompkins c-came, and she made it better. And now everyone’s nice to me mostly. There’re a few people who're always mad at me but but that’s okay.” Oswald said and thought back to when he had tried to find his mother and had come to the police department only to be met with guns and a detective dragging him around by the collar. They had yelled at him for two days straight before bringing Doctor Thompkins in to help.

And then he was with all the girls, and he hated that because they were really really mean. But... It's okay now.

It’s okay because now he had a friend and was on his way to his nice room.

“That doesn’t sound very okay Oswald, why are they mad at you?” Edward asked, more curious than concerned. He didn't know of any great criminal of Gotham named Oswald. Or Ozzie or Oz or Waldo.

Plus, it seemed as though Oswald was having an easier time remembering things like happenings than specific details and it was intriguing to Edward.

“Oh um…. Before I got here in the- the months I can’t remember, I think I did something bad. I… I think I hurt people. I don’t- I wouldn’t ever hurt anyone. I don’t…. It makes me feel like I don’t know who I am, sometimes. I just wanna…. I wanna have a job and- and watch cartoons and I dunno… get married, my mother wanted me to get married. I- I have a hard time liking people enough to do the necessary activities to get married though.” Oswald said and kind of shrugged it off at the end. He didn’t like thinking of his mother much because of how sad it made him. He missed her. But then again, she’d probably be ashamed of him now anyway.

Edward laughed a bit at ' necessary activities '. Such an odd thing to say. But the sad look on the other’s downturned face made him quiet and try to lighten the mood again.

“Oh? Is there anyone here that catches your eye? Dating is very important for the growth of relationships.” Edward said and leaned over a bit to bump his elbow into the other’s arm.

“I think there is now. I don’t know. I’ll have to talk about it with- with my talk-to doctor.” Oswald said and looked away with a smile. Edward was about to say something about his cherry-colored ears but they needed to stop by the non-medical supplies closet. The green door wiping the comment from his tongue as he cleared his throat again.

“Ah, can you wait here on the bench for a moment? I need to sign out the heating packs and call doctor Leslie real fast. Yeah, just sit there, good boy.” Edward explained and guided the patient to sit on the padded bench. Oswald smiled and sat down obediently, eyes unfocusing for a moment before he was glancing up at the ceiling tiles.

Edward unlocked the door and took a breath and shook his hands. What an odd day. What an odd man. So exciting!

~

“Hello?” Said a scratchy sleep-tired voice.

“Leslie, it's Edward Nygma.” Ed said as he picked nervously at the wall in front of him with his hand unoccupied by his cell phone.

“Oh, hi Ed, any reason you’re calling me so late?” The doctor asked as she sat up a bit in bed, trying not to wake the man next to her.

“Oswald Cobblepot.” Edward said and then regretted not saying something else when the doctor asked a bit panicked.

“Oh no what happened? Are you okay? Did you call the police?” She asked and Ed was shaking his head even though he knew she couldn't see it, just hating the way she sounded so upset at the other man’s name.

“No, no, no. It's not like that. He needs heating packs. He actually walked all the way to my office and just sat down and chatted with me for a bit. He's very... sweet. He's... he needed some heating pads and someone to help him back to his room." Edward explained and felt his face heat slightly trying not to call the apparently 'dangerous' patient anything weird. Like adorable, darling, wonderful, cute, snuggly looking.

"You're with him now?" The doctor asked, feeling a bit at ease in the obvious endearing flick in her assistant's voice.

Edward was an odd fellow. Always nosing into other people’s business but also shying away from actual social conversation. And Oswald was sort of… well he could be very mean and hateful at times. Sometimes. Most times. Biting, kicking, screaming at the top of his lungs until only squeaky noises escaped him. Leslie had seen Oswald be sweet, wrapped up in his blanket sitting in his wheelchair watching the snow or helping the older ladies open and close their markers, but never to anyone other than fellow patients.

"He's sitting in the hall where I can see him. I'm going to put him back in bed. He's very talkative. I thought maybe it would be okay if I tucked him in... and such." Edward asked and watched Oswald scoot around on the bench until settling in the middle. He settled in, shoulders drooping to relax once he found the best spot, eyes wandering up and down the walls happily.

"He hasn't thrown a fit or anything? Complaints?" Leslie asked and was a little shocked that Oswald had sought out the other man.

Edward had a certain way that usually... rubbed people the wrong way. Corrective, ranting, staring in a way that usually made people uncomfortable.

"Nope, he asked for heating packs, he didn't have shoes or slippers on just socks and it seems he's feeling a bit cold. The entire walk so far, he's been telling me his story and he got a bit teary talking about how he was so scared and confused when he was first brought in." Ed explained and found the drawer that had the heating packs in them, picking out five purple ones and slipping them into his white coat's pocket.

"Yeah he... he lost about five years and he's pretty traumatized. Sign the heating packs out under my name and I'll fix the papers in the morning. And Ed?" Lesliesaid and smiled into her phone, knowing what she was going to say was gonna shake him up a bit.

"Yes Doctor Leslie?" Ed answered and filled out the paper for the heating packs. He liked doing paperwork, he thought faintly as he filled out the chart.

"You sound happy." Leslie said and grinned as Edward’s stutters filled the static between them.

"I- I love my job." Ed answered and tried to think of something to make his face less on fire with blush. Brushing his teeth, cleaning the floor, putting on socks, putting socks on Oswald gently and softly running his hand through that mess of spikey black hair- No! Ed shook his head and listened to Leslie huff out a half-laugh.

"Okay, anything else? Because do not call me again unless it's an emergency." Leslie asked, laughing off the stuttered fraud of an answer.

"Oh um.... I think he’s a bit sad and I think he may need some hugs can- can I do that? Is that okay? Oh, and he seems to be walking a bit…. Does he have any incontinence problems?” Ed asked quietly and looked out the window in the door to find Oswald rubbing his feet together and staring down at them. He'd been walking with a bit of a.... well the way someone walks when they've got something they're not used to between their legs. Like a bruised thigh or a diaper.

He heard a sigh on the other side of the line.

"I'm only doing this because he hasn't bitten or thrown himself down on the floor in a fit. I'm gonna let you be one of his contact assistants. He wears a pull up at night and he doesn't like sleeping in a shirt. Edward handle this with utmost care, Oswald's transgender. That means when you let him put on a clean pull up you gotta make sure he wipes himself. There are wet wipes with his name on them and his nighttime pads are all blue. If he asks for help then help him, offer assistance but do not approach unless prompted. And don't say anything about his chest scars. He doesn't like them. Do you understand that Edward?" Leslie said in a very serious tone that had Edward memorizing each word down to the letter.

"Yes- Yes ma'am. I'll be very careful. He- You should be getting back to bed. Goodnight Doctor." Edward said and moved to hold the doorknob, excited to get back to the man who was looking drowsy on the bench, letting his eyelids droop and a yawn break free.

"Good night Edward." Leslie said but was cut off by the click of the phone hanging up.

Edward stepped out of the supply room and Oswald looked up at him with a soft smile.

"I got you all purple, now let's get you back to bed." Edward said softly and offered his arm when Oswald twinged a bit to the side when standing up. They made their way toward the room that had a sparkling ' O' sticker on the sign. Edward was happy to walk slowly, arms linked, with the patient. 

Oswald was smiling slightly and opened his door, leaving Ed to go into the bathroom with his key in hand. The patient went and pulled the blankets back on the bed, well gathering his soft purple blanket that he didn’t remember ever not having but couldn’t remember who gave it to him as it wasn’t standard given to all patients, and setting it near his pillow. 

"Thank you Mr. Nygma for helping me back. Um, Can you unlock my cabinet too? I need something from there." Oswald said as he sat down on the side of his bed. He needed to change his undergarments at least... Ed made his tummy feel weird and Oswald didn't like sleeping in damp, whether that be his briefs or his pull up underneath.

"Oh your cabinet... Do you need any medication or anything other than the heating packs?" Edward said and laid the five purple packs at the foot of the bed and waited for Oswald to get done picking at a spot on his striped soft pants.

Oswald picked at his pants thinking about how odd it was to have a boy in his room with the door shut. No one ever let him do that before. Not mother, not the nurses. It made his heart jump a bit.

“Oh I’m I have to wear-“ Oswald started to say embarrassedly before Ed shook his head and remembered. He quickly unlocked the cabinet and grabbed the wipes and folded up black padding. 

“Of course I’ll get those for you one moment. Do you need a change of underwear too?” Edward asked and stood up with the wipes and pad in hand, Oswald grinned and nodded.

He didn’t feel so bad anymore, this nurse was nice. Usually the boy nurses were rough but this one was nice. Ed. Ed was nice. Usually boys were mean but Ed was nice. 

"that- that would be nice, yes. I-I have a hard time sleeping when- when I'm not warm and comfortable." Oswald explained as Edward grabbed a pair of clean purple and black striped briefs from the easily readable laundry cabinet next to him. 

“Do you want any help? Do you know what to do?” Edward asked and handed over the supplies and looked into Oswald’s iceberg eyes.  

“I think so” Oswald answered with uncertainty lining his voice. Edward let him go to scurry back into the bathroom, closing the door gently behind him. 

“If you need help, I’ll help you, Oswald.” Edward said at the door and looked around the room. 

Oswald had… few extra amenities. No privacy curtain, table, bed table, side table, extra betting, etc. It was odd. There was only a picture taped to the wall and a scrapbook shoved under the bed. 

Edward looked at the picture, an older woman smiling ear to ear holding up a very chubby little baby in a frilly pink dress. Oswald, that had to be him. The pointed nose, dark hair, shimmering blue eyes, round cheeks. Edward grinned at the image, it was sweet. That must be the mother Oswald oh so dearly loves. 

“Mister? Why’re you in my room?” Edward turned and smiled at Oswald, now gripping his shirt in front of him, and nodded his head. He kept the first in front of him, doing little to cover his soft chubby torso and freckle speckled shoulders. 

“I’m helping you to bed, Mr. Cobblepot. I’m Edward, we walk from the med wing. Are you ready to go to bed?” Edward said in a soft voice. Oswald looked at him with wide confused eyes for a minute, cheeks turning tomato red. 

“I’m sorry, I forget things sometimes. You do files. Files, file room. Ed.” Oswald said and blinked his eyes a few times. Nice boy, nice boy in his room, works with the Doctor. 

Edward nodded and motioned toward the bed and Oswald hurriedly sat down, setting his shirt to the side and pushing his blankets out of the way. 

“I’m, I’m ready. I’m sleepy, I-I think I’ve been up for a long time now. Thank you, Ed.” Oswald said and carefully laid down, making sure his leg didn’t twist the wrong way. Edward stood at the end of the bed, picking up the heat packs and snapping them all, moving them in his hands feeling the warmth. 

“Would you like these in your socks or under your blankets? They get warm, see.” Edward asked and pressed one against the bottom of Oswald’s socks. The patient gasped and made a pleased noise, nodding his head. 

“Feels nice… Can… can I have one for my… ears?” Oswald asked, obviously focusing on the feeling rather than speaking. Edward smiled and handed him one of the packs and worked on slipping the others into his socks. 

Oswald hummed and rubbed the pack across his face and nose, holding it over each of his ears. Then his eyes popped open wide with a gasp. 

“Is there something wrong, Oswald? Are you alright?” Edward asked in concern at the blush that was creeping down Oswald’s throat and down to his chest. Maybe the packs were too hot? Did he snap them wrong?

“I- I’m just sleepy is all. Those feel nice. Thank you. May I go to bed now?” Oswald asked, kinda pushy like he just wanted Ed to leave. Ed just nodded and made his way to the door, slight grin on his face as he shut out the lights. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Cobblepot. Maybe I’ll come visit you again.” Edward teased as he stood in the hallway light leaking in through the open door. He could just make out the way Oswald glanced away and nodded. 

“Okay, Ed”

-----

Edward found it pleasant to be interactive with the patients. Patient. Oswald. 

He liked stretching his legs after sitting for hours and the long walk to the man’s room was perfect and calm. And it was nice to see the twinkle in Oswald’s eyes, even when he didn’t fully recognize Ed. The dark haired boy would smile and talk and talk before realizing it was Eddy and give him a hug. And Ed was okay with being hugged by warm soft arms and cold spindly hands. 

“Good evening Mr. Cobblepot, how’re you doing today, Ozzy?” 

“Hi Ozzy, what’re you reading?”

“Oh Ozzy, don’t you wanna go see the rain? We can bring your blanket.”

“Ozzy do you think the nurses will let us have a sleepover?”

“Ozzy, shush, I brought snacks.”

Ed would bring different things for Oswald, to the nurses disdain. Crackers, strawberry milk, a bag of cheap pre popped popcorn, tea in a thermos, each thing Ed brought and shared with Oswald in his bed made the patient even sweeter. Always thanking Ed with a hug as he snuggled in next to the other man sitting against the wall in the bed. 

Oswald had requested only one thing, a picture of them together with Ed’s name written under it. And there was a cruddy picture printed by the office printer of them taken on Ed’s cell, both smiling widely, tapes next to the photo of Oswald and his dear mother. 

Though some nights were better than others, some nights ending in Oswald crying screaming that he didn’t want a man in his bedroom at night, that Edward was improper, Ed kept coming back and being kind. Oswald was an amazing creature. He couldn’t stay away. 

At least that’s what he told himself. What he told himself at work when he daydreamt of Oswald’s thin hands or his soft belly speckled with powder light freckles, his round ears, his sweet little giggles, his smooth pink scars, his thin lips, how soft his hair would be in Edwrd’s hand or how he makes such enticing sounds when something feels nice on him… It was all because Oswald was… intriguing. Not because he felt like warm fresh-from-the-dryer laundry when he was around the dark haired man or because his heart felt like a gymnast when Oswald fell asleep on his shoulder or in the chair in the file room. 

And Oswald felt… happy. He felt warm and fuzzy in his belly when Ed was around. He talked about him with the therapist all the time. He told his friend, Gretchen, all about the boy and she’d said that Ed sounded like a good boy. He liked the way the wall and sheet smelled after Ed left and how every part of Ed was amazing and that Oswald wanted to touch his skin all over. 

And he was sure Ed had good skin under his clothes. Oswald liked the skin on his hands, strong hands with perfect short nails that made Oswald’s center do a weird flip flop. He was sure the soft smooth slightly tanned skin was everywhere and that it would all feel very good against his own pale flesh. 

Everywhere against him. Oswald could imagine it in such clarity. All times of day. Which really only caused Oswald more frustration because he felt good but he felt… lonely too. He like the way his belly got warm and how nice his blanket felt between his knees and how suddenly he was a bit breathless and he could picture Edward snuggling against him, kissing him, being so close, being connected- and then Oswald could start to cry and get a weird squirming feeling and have to go to the bathroom and washing his face. 

And both had decided, perhaps it would be okay to keep near. Perhaps it would be okay to keep the warm feeling in their chests a secret from the other but… still try and get a bit closer to savor it. 

Night after night Edward made his way from the filing room, lost in his own mind, to the patient’s room. And Oswald would be there. Sometimes with a knowing smile, other times half asleep, and occasionally reading a book. They talked, shared sacks and drinks, read a comic book Edward liked, and sometimes they just sat near and rested against each other. 

And it was always at night when the lights went out. Oswald knew, even when he really didn’t, that good things come when the lights go out. 

So when Edward made his way into the room during the day, just after lunch, Oswald was frightened. 

Ed was on break from the police station, taking an extra long lunch to come visit Oswald and ask if it would be okay to go on an outing. He already had permission to take Oswald to a drive-in theater, but he’d yet to ask the other boy. He was giddy walking quickly with the movie listings printed out in his hands. 

He was less giddy when he heard the other squawk and yell as soon as his door was opened. Oswald was scrambling in his bed, pulling all his blankets over himself, face flush and pink, hair a mess. Ed was concerned, making his way to the bedside, taking in the way Oswald was positioned to hide his arms or legs. Oswald had tried to hurt himself before. Edward took a breath and looked at Oswald’s teary face and messy bed. 

“Oswald.” Edward said and reached for the blanket covering Oswald’s middle. 

“Eddie don’t look” Oswald squawked and moved one hand to keep the blanket but Edward already was pulling the blanket away. The assistant disregarded Oswald’s shouts to go away or stop. Even when they started a halfway game of tug-of-war. 

“Oswald, I have to see if you’re hurting yourse- oh Ozzie.” Edward said when he finally got the blankets off Oswald’s body. 

He was lying there, shirt rucked up to his armpits, day pants shoved down to his ankles, briefs down his knees, one hand holding the brush end of a hairbrush as its handle plunged into his rosy center. Edward stared, just for a moment, he just looked. Oswald was so pretty. His soft belly, his trembling plush thighs, his small hands struggling not to shake as he kept the makeshift toy in place. His face was pure, overwhelmed with pleasure, he’d come to tears. And oh the way his straight thin black hair laid around his tender slit made Edward very suddenly light headed and very aware of where his blood was headed.  

“I said don’t look!” Oswald cried out and brought his good leg up to kick Ed in the gut. Though it was a very light kick, it was enough to pull the taller boy out of his own head. 

Ed shook his head and reached for Oswald’s hand still occupied with the brush. 

“Oswald I can’t let you do that with a hairbrush. That’s not okay.” Edward said and grasped Oswald’s wrist as the boy hit him with his free hand. 

“But it’s my hairbrush!” Oswald said and let out a sob as Edward’s hand pressed on his lower stomach, holding him down. 

“No.” Edward said and gently but firmly held Oswald’s wrists away with one hand and used his other to pull the brush from Oswald’s clenching, shaking body. Edward felt like he couldn’t breathe as he held the brush in his hand and looked down at the other. 

Oswald was sobbing, whole body shaking with each sob. His hole twitching and clenching around nothing as his knees drew together to try and hide away, his belly jiggling slightly with the creaking sobs. And his thighs were shiny with slick, matching the nearly dripping handle of the brush. Oswald was messy, not only his tear and sob smeared face but also where his slick spattered down the insides of his legs and his soaked soft looking pubes. 

Oswald let out a whimper and shook, legs trembling. He reached up for Edward’s arm where the brush was hanging limp at his side. 

“Please Ed…. I need it. Nothing else makes it better. It’s all… itchy in there.” Oswald begged and Edward took a step back, tearing his eyes away from the patient. He focused on breathing and thinking of things to kill his erection. Mowing grass, cold showers, vaccinations, stubbing his toe. 

He just looked at the door and then realized the warm brush was still in his hand and he rushed over to the cabinet. 

“Oswald… do you know what you were doing?” Edward asked seriously and got a biohazard bag from the cabinet and quickly put the hairbrush in it, sealing away the slightly sweet aroma coming from it. He turned around to see Oswald pulling his pants up and shoving his shirt down, hiding away the yards of soft pale flesh Edward was so enamored with. 

“I-I-I thought I was supposed to,” Oswald said looking down at where he was still all sticky. He was doing something that wasn’t hurting him when he was having weird feelings. He was supposed to do nice things to himself. Like counting or jumping. The hairbrush felt nice… at least much better than his fingers or when he rubbed on the bed. 

“Oswald you… you shouldn’t put things that aren’t specifically made for it, inside of yourself. You wouldn’t eat a tennis ball would you? Hm would you?” Edward asked to lighten the mood a bit which caused Oswald to give him a confused look before shaking his head with a light grin. 

“No, I wouldn’t eat a tennis ball.” Oswald said lightly and shook his head. 

“So something like this” Edward said and held up the hair brush inside the bag “should not go inside of you. Now clean yourself up we need to go ask doctor Thompkins something don’t we.” Edward said and walked out, taking a moment to breathe outside the door. 

His heart was racing, his cock ached, and he just knew. He knew what they both wanted, needed, craved . 

“Yes, Eddy.” Oswald said as the back of the door, he laid back flat in his bed, hands laying over his covered stomach. He couldn’t help the smile that crested on his lips. It suddenly felt a sugary warmth not only in his pants but also in his chest. Like he knew Edward was thinking the same thing he was. 

Oh to just be together as themselves and in the most improper ways. 

---

“I’m concerned for his sexual health. This is what he was using for a masturbation aid.” Edward said and set the hairbrush in its bag on Leslie’s desk. Watching the woman's eyes grow wide and her eyebrows raise, Edward schooled his face to not show how desperate he felt to get permission to… help Oswald. 

“Oswald?” She asked with a look that had Oswald looking down at his fidgeting feet. The dark haired boy’s face was cherry red and his hands were shifty and flexing against his day clothes. 

“I thought I was supposed to. It- it- I wasn’t hurting myself. It- I’m sorry.” Oswald muttered and looked over to the side. He felt a bit like he was about to be scolded by the school master. 

“No, no, it’s okay Oswald. I just wish you would have told the therapist you were struggling with desires of this… nature. You know we all tiptoe around this kind of thing. Especially with you.” Leslie said and plastered on a calm smile and gentle demeanor. She nodded and at Oswald when he looked up at her, eyes unsure. 

He mustered up his emotions, mostly confusing which made him mad and frustration that also made him mad. 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to- to do. It’s itchy and weird and it makes my underwear smell weird and then after I have to pee even if I don’t really need to pee and- and then it makes me make- make weird noises and it makes it hard to breathe. I dunno what to do other than… put something in there.” Oswald said in a rush, ending up making a very scrunched up face at Leslie who had to hold back her laughter. A bird with its feathers up for sure. 

“Do you know what you were doing is called?” Leslie asked and Oswald sat back down, slumping and shook his head. 

“I-I-I don’t know.” Oswald confessed and looked back down at the bottom of Doctor Thompkins’ desk. He flushed again but then looked over at Ed’s shiny shoes and felt a bit better. Ed was like balm on a burn. It didn’t matter if Oswald was dumb about some things because Ed knew about all sorts of stuff. 

“Masturbation. It’s not a bad thing to do but we need to talk to the therapist and make sure you understand what it means to do it. Then we can… explore other options.” Leslie explained and noted that she needed to have an emergency call to Oswald’s therapist and arrange a very.. Fragile appointment. 

---

“Fragile” was not a word to describe what Oswald was going through. Aggressive self-soothing? Perhaps. Obsessive hypersexualized self-soothing, nearing the line between soothing and harm? Yes. 

Oswald had been sat down and told that 1. Masturbation is good and healthy for a man Oswald’s age, 2. There are things made to go inside and nothing else should ever go inside. Ever., and 3. If he ever wanted to invite someone else to his room for anything more than masturbation, he’d need to get permission from Doctor Leslie and his therapist and then get an exam. 

And they’d given him some books to read, and made it very clear that even if the books all showed girls, and said they were for girls, and only were about girls, that they didn’t see him as anything except the man he is. Oswald hated the books. He hated them so much. He read them… and read them again, and then took them to the bathroom with a small plastic mirror, and decided they were gross and put them in the trash, and then put them under his bed because maybe they were gross but also kind of useful. 

And they gave him a very weird squishy blue thing. Oswald called it the thingy because he couldn’t remember what the doctor had told him it was. 

The weird doctor. 

The one that made him lay on a table with his legs all bent and open, the one who put something cold and weird inside of him before he panicked and they made him sleep only to wake up with his butt, thighs, and stomach aching horribly. The one who was all smiley when she came in and told him that he was healthy. Told him he only had minor scarring from his procedure. The procedure that he had no idea even happened and that she never explained. One that had apparently happened in the years he was missing. 

But Oswald was okay. He was okay putting the thingy inside himself and biting his pillow to keep quiet. He was okay balling up his blanket between his legs and rubbing on it. He was okay sitting in the common room, spaced out, and rocking back and forth until the nurses told him to stop. He was okay with Ed coming in for lunch and finding Oswald withering under his blankets, whimpering his name. He was okay with Ed touching his ankle when he hides away under his blanket, shaking from those little shocks that happen once he’s done. He was okay when Ed came in at night and stood by the door and watched. He was very okay when Ed would watch him, standing by the door, and come press a kiss to Oswald’s panting lips after he got done trembling and shaking. Oswald was okay. 

Edward however was on the edge of a very steep cliff. He spent far too many hours rushing through the halls between the file room and Oswald’s room. Far too many rushed moment’s hiding under his desk holding a tissue over his cock just to keep from staining the carpet. And far far far too many hours stood just inside Oswald’s door watching the patient. 

Ed couldn’t help himself. He knew he should turn and leave but the way Oswald twisted and jerked in his bed, under his purple blanket, the way he cried out and let out busted little sobs, the way he moaned out Ed’s name like the assistant was his savior… it all made Ed glue down to the floor. It made him take the few steps so that when Oswald was laying lax in his bed catching his breath Ed could press hot kisses into his panting mouth. It made it impossible for him to keep his hands from stealing a little touch from the other man, it made it impossible for Ed to not grab at a frail ankle and feel the racing pulse wracking through the shorter man. 

And Ed was losing it. He was running from the room to the bathroom to give himself a few tight strokes before he was spilling into the toilet or sink. He was hiding under the file room desk to jerk himself off thinking of how good Oswald would feel in his hands, in his lap, on him. How sweetly he’d sob as Ed touched his softest, most precious parts. How he’d sob and cry and hang onto Ed like the brunette was the only anchor he had to earth. And Ed had to tell himself jerking off four times a day was inhibiting his ability to get work done. And he’d hear Oswald small breathy whimpers, see his tear streaked face, see how his body trembled and rocked with the aftershocks of an orgasm and go back to the bathroom to pull himself through just one more. 

And he couldn’t stop. He found himself going to Oswald constantly. Seeing him in the day room in the morning rocking in his chair, in his room for lunch only to find Oswald whining and crying from stuffing himself, at night when the lights went off and Oswald was throwing himself through lord knows how many orgasms before he fell asleep with his briefs around his knees. He couldn’t stop from watching, from getting Oswald a water and a cookie, a wash cloth, and kissing him, kneeling over him in bed and kissing him until Oswald was panting again. 

No matter how many times Oswald didn’t notice him there, how many times Oswald walked to the file room and couldn’t remember Ed’s name but knew the room was a good room, how many times Oswald gasped and told him that a man should never sneak up on someone in their powder room while he was getting ready for bed, nothing could keep Ed away. 

It all came to a head when Leslie had called him while he was filing at the police station. She was frustrated sounding. 

Oswald was having a fit . He was screaming, crying, and fighting off every single person who got near him. He wanted Edward Nygma . Leslie said she was astonished that the patient could even remember Ed’s full name and could recite it over and over again as he threw hit books at the door. Ed was even surprised when Leslie held her phone away from her and he could faintly hear the patient’s screaming. 

“ I want Eddy! Edward Nygma is the only person allowed in! Go away! Go away! Please stay away!”

Ed felt a hiccup in his chest and stood stone still as Leslie told him to get his ass over before they send in the big nurses and drug Oswald until he’s passed out. He bit out an answer and dropped the papers onto his desk and hurried out to tell everyone he was leaving early because of a small emergency. 

---

Ed had come in, being led back to Oswald’s room by a very burly nurse. He stood before the door as Leslie told the rest of the staff that Ed was, well, The Edward Nygma. And Edward opened the door to his dear sweet Oswald. 

And promptly got nailed in the face with a tube of lube. 

“Oh Eddy, I-I’m sorry I didn’t know! Eddy, they want to touch me! I don’t want them to touch me! I want you to touch me, can’t- can’t you help me? Please Eddy, I need- need- I don’t know but I need it!” Oswald sobbed out and reached out from his bed toward Edward who was easily making his way to sit down on the bed. 

Oswald clung to him, arms wrapping around Ed’s thin middle as he nuzzled into the other man’s warm chest. Ed smiled and started an easy even rhythm of rubbing Oswald’s back, up and down over his knobby spine. 

“Why are you so upset? What happened, Ozzy?” Ed asked as Oswald rubbed his soft cheek across the texture of Ed’s button down shirt. The smaller man groaned and went all loose, laying across Edward’s lap with his face hidden. 

Ed had to clench his jaw to keep from making a noise at the sight of Oswald’s nose laying against his zipper and his small hands fidgeting with one of his belt loops. Oswald had been getting handsy, grabbing and hugging and burying his face in Ed’s clothes or neck. And when Oswald turned just a small bit and looked up at Ed with those piercing blue eyes, half hidden by his hair, Ed could barely keep himself from dragging the patient up into a searing kiss. 

“Had a dream. Woke up all… weird feeling in my gut. Told the nurse I needed to take a shower, she wouldn’t let me, she just told me to change my underthings. But- but the- the texture… It made it worse. I got put in the day room and then they kicked me out for rocking, I went to lunch and they fussed at me for rubbing on the bench, and- and then I talked to the talk-to doctor and he fussed at me for fidgeting and squirming around. Just need you.” Oswald said quietly, eyes starting to well up, becoming glistening and just that much more desperate looking. 

Edward stared. He felt something inside his brain, inside his very soul, was twisting. Twisting, burning, turning dark in his chest as he stared down the pathetic lovely little thing sniffling in his lap, against his swelling cock, in such emotional and physical turmoil. 

And he liked it. He liked how his hand drug over Oswald’s shoulder, into his shaggy black hair, and pressed his head down as his hips rolled up. He liked the whimper and slight struggle Oswald gave as Ed’s zipper dug into his cheek, liked the confused and slightly frightened look on Oswald’s tear stricken pink tinted face. And he liked how when he let up Oswald sat up and moved closer to pant and nuzzle against Ed’s neck, words lost to the blood rushing in Ed’s ears. 

“Oswald, do you want to have sex with me?” Edward asked as he rolled his head to the side to lay against Oswald’s slightly damp hair. 

He nearly laughed at the noise that escaped Oswald’s throat, something between a honk and a gasp, breathy yet… caught and squeaky. 

The patient jerked back to sit on his butt, bad leg thrown over the side of the bed, the other sat flat behind Edward’s back. He stared at Ed with wide eyes, as though he was so shocked by the question. After weeks of showing Ed his most sensitive moments… Why was it so shocking?

“Oswald, you know what you want.” Ed said lowly as he pulled his own leg up on the bed, between Oswald’s spread ones, pushing their chests together, shoving the patient to lay on the bed, moving to cage the smaller man in with his arms on either side of his narrow shoulders.

Oswald looked up at him with big shocked eyes, rimmed red from tears, hands shaking as they floated between their stomachs. He opened and closed his mouth, brain far too scrambled and boiled to come up with an answer at the moment. Ed used one hand to hold himself up and the other to touch the side of Oswald’s face, thumb tracing a soft cheek as his other fingers traced over his round ears. 

“Say what you want. What do you want? You threw a big tantrum, yelled, threw things, you hit people, what was it all for?” Edward asked, staring straight into Oswald’s eyes as he looked anywhere else. Oswald’s jaw worked under the warm palm cradling it. 

“You. I d-do, I want you, Eddy. I-I caused trouble t-to get you here. Please? Please Eddy, I signed papers, I-I can have the-the special room.” Oswald begged, he forced his eyes to flash up to catch the other’s gaze. 

Ed hummed, enjoying the way Oswald looked in the moment. He liked knowing Oswald was soaking wet underneath his clothes. That he was wanting and ready through a few layers of fabric. 

“You have to say that to Doctor Thompson. You have to tell her you want to have sex, that you want it. You have to agree to get checked out after. Understand that, Ozzy?” Ed explained as he let his face get closer to Oswald’s, his fingers still gently stroking over damp hair and blushing pink ears. Oswald’s eyes flashed up and down from eyes down to lips, down lower where Ed’s leg was keeping his own spread open. 

“I- I- understand. Doctor Thompson, tell her, use- use the words. Yes, Eddy, pl-please” Oswald said beggingly as his hips rolled down onto the bed. The small movement was enough to set something alight in Ed. He shoved himself up, standing in front of the flustered blushing patient and looked him over with hunger in his eyes. 

“I’m gonna take care of you. Skip dinner, a nurse will bring you to the room. You’re being good, Ozzy, just relax for the next few hours. Don’t use your toy. I’ll see you later.” Ed said quickly, he was on the brink of fucking Oswald right in his shitty little bed with everyone his  abreath behind the door. He didn’t care. Oswald was perfect, and wanting . 

Oswald nodded and was about to say something but Ed was already shutting the door behind himself. He laid back in bed, hands laying on his chest. He nearly giggled. He was going to do something naughty with a boy… How fun! 

Doctor Thompson was the first one to see the giggling, grinning patient. She knew it was going to happen eventually. 

----

“Oswald, I need to take you to the conjugal visitor’s room. Bring your blanket and a change of clothes.” Said a nurse as she stood by the door, waiting on Oswald. 

“I- I have them. I have everything. I- I’m prepared.” Oswald said and grabbed up the stack of material he had already gathered. He had gotten ready as soon as he got the papers that said what to expect, what to bring, and what would happen after. 

He was overly excited as he was shown through the ward, down a hall he’d never been down, and to a door that looked just like all the others in the hospital. Except when he opened it he was greeted with a sight better than any he’d seen in… a very long time. 

“Hi Ozzy, come sit down. I made dinner.” Edward said and welcomed Oswald into the room that was furnished like a regular apartment with a table, a tv, a couch, a small kitchenette, and a door that was open leading to the bedroom. 

Oswald looked around in wonder. It was just like a regular home. He looked at the windows that were just pictures on the walls and not real windows, the soft warm lights, the bed in the bedroom dressed in simple sheets with a comforter folded at the foot, and finally he looked back at Ed who was motioning toward a chair that sat at the small four person table. 

Oswald sat down at the table and looked at the plate in front of him. He felt like he was dreaming. 

“This is breakfast.” He said as he looked at the stunning plates before him, the smell making his mouth water and his mind quiet. 

“Yes. You said you liked breakfast. This is breakfast dinner . French toast, eggs, bacon, and nice warm tea. I know you don’t like coffee.” Edward said and swept a hand over the table, showing off all the fresh made food. 

He’d been working hard to make Oswald food that would fill him up and give him energy. It made something feel sweet in his heart, something was being fed by taking care of Oswald. Something that made him wanna feed Oswald himself, to have complete control over it all. But then he was sure that might scare his sweet partner away. Especially when Oswald looks up with big puppy eyes as his hands nervously float over the cutlery set beside his plate. 

“Can-can I eat it? Or do I need to wait?” Oswald asked and his mouth watered at the sight of all the food. He wasn’t worried about how he looked under his clothes or if he washed his hair well enough, he wasn’t scared about Ed not liking him, he felt a wash of calm come over him as Edward nodded and stepped away. 

“Eat, Oswald, you’ll need energy.” Edward said and sat down opposite of the other and began to eat. 

They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to. Oswald was already getting a warm feeling in his gut and Edward had been at least half hard since he’d started preparing the dinner. Since he’d put the soft towels beside the bed, piled the bedside with condoms and lube packets, and made sure there were snap warmers and extra socks nearby. 

Edward was quiet as he cleaned the plates away, putting them in the sink to be dealt with later he came back and stood behind Oswald’s chair, gently letting his fingers skate up over his shoulders to rub up and down the thrumming vein on each side of his frail pale neck. 

“Oswald, what do you want to do now?” Edward asked and felt the other swallow and open his mouth without speaking before closing it again a few times. He used his grasp on Oswald’s jaw and tilted his face up to look at him. 

Oswald was red in the face, ears flushed a dark pink to match his cheeks. His eyes wavering and glossy wet, lips trembling, hands grabbing tightly onto the belly of his own sweater, his only anchor. Ed watched him, watched him struggle helplessly with what he wanted to say. 

“Do you want me to be in charge?” Ed asked simply and Oswald was closing his eyes tightly and nodding. Of course, Ed thought, Oswald is dependent , he needs guidance, thrives under it. 

And the weight of having to come up with a response lifted from Oswald’s shoulders. He didn’t know where to start. He only knew what to do with Ed after the fact. He only knew the sloppy wet kisses that were pressed into his lips when he was drowning in his own orgasm. Ed knew though. Ed always just knew . 

“Up. Kisses, yes?” Edward ordered and then asked as soon as Oswald was standing before him. Oswald was closing his eyes, dark eyelashes fanning beautifully across his lightly freckled face, lips pursing forward. Edward smiled and gently placed his hands on Oswald’s soft hips. 

“Good” Edward whispered as he leaned down to connect their lips, slowly and carefully. 

Though Oswald was not keen on keeping it that way. He was whimpering in moments, arms coming to drag Ed closer by his shoulders, lifting up as tall as he could get to press them even closer. He was breathless in minutes, breathless from the way Ed was sucking on his bottom lip, the way warm hands had slipped under the striped fabric of his sweater and were burning into his skin. 

“Ozzy, Ozzy, c’mon, bed, bedroom.” Edward said between kisses as he pulled Oswald toward the open door. 

Though the shorter man was still trying to keep their tongues entwined the entire time they eventually made it there. And when they pulled apart Ed was resparked. 

Oswald was a mess. Lips red and puffy, slight drool marking the side of his mouth, his face a stunning warm peach color, his eyes blow wide and big, he was the face of debauched without ever doing more than kissing. 

“Beautiful, so perfect, Oswald, so pretty,” Edward said and pushed some messy black hair out of Oswald’s eyes. The shorter just smiled, toothy and honest, and leaned into the palm on the side of his face. 

“Do you really think so, Eddy? You’re so pretty, so warm, sm-smart too!” Oswald complimented and Edward smirked, the begging tone in Oswald's voice was really making him feel a certain way. 

“Oswald, take off your shirt.” Ed ordered as he closed the bedroom door and slipped off his shoes, taking off his belt. Oswald had slipped his own slippers off under the table and only had on his sweatpants and sweater. 

Oswald was quick to comply, pulling his sweater up, struggling with it for a moment before he was holding it in front of himself. He was suddenly feeling quite self conscious. Edwrad had seen him topless dozens of times. But in this… this context. It wasn’t when Ed put him to sleep, it wasn’t like when Ed walked in on him writhing in bed, it wasn’t Ed helping him in the shower. It was… intimate in the highest degree. 

“Give it here, we don’t want it getting… messy, would we?” Edward said when he noticed Oswald holding onto the fabric. He held his hand out and waited until Oswald shakily handed it over. Ed gently put it aside, folding it easily and sitting on a chair set by the door. He then unbuttoned and shrugged his own shirt off, bearing his undershirt to the world.

“Y-you have on a shirt still.” came from the patient as he looked at the other. As he stared, admired, and grew utterly starving for the other. He indulged and looked, really looked. Ed had small scars on his arms, his long, tan, well sculpted arms and a slim waist where his undershirt hugged onto him. He was… thin, tall, strong, tan, and it made Oswald both dizzy with warmth and wet his underpants and a bit… feeling a bit unworthy. 

Edward noticed but decided against saying anything in favor of catching the way Oswald’s knees wobbled and his mouth hung open when he pulled the thin white shirt off. 

He turned and looked back at his partner, the way Oswald’s eyes feasted on every square inch of bared flesh. It made him proud. It made him feel… more than adequate, it made him feel a bit like a preened chicken but it let himself be looked at. 

Oswald liked looking, too. He liked seeing what was hidden from him for so long. He liked seeing Ed’s flat scarless chest, his hairless torso, the way his stomach was flat with the valleys of muscles just barely there, the way his tan was so clearly created by being shirtless by the stark line where his slacks were sagging lower on his hips, and oh his hips. Ed had sharp bones that stuck out, so unlike the way Oswald’s own were more hidden. 

“Do you like the way I look, Ozzy?” Edward asked and stepped back to nose down the side of Oswald’s neck, hands finding their way back to run up from Oswald’s hips to his shoulder blades and down to his still covered behind. Oswald was nodding, leaning so Ed had more space to mouth at. 

“Do you know what comes off now? What it means when they come off?” Edward asked and let his fingers just barely slip under the tied waistband of the sweatpants. His own slacks were sagging down, ready to slip past his ass and to the floor. He nearly laughed out loud when Oswald answered, nearly ruining the warm atmosphere he’d created. 

“Pants, sex, cuddling” Oswald answered. He knew the basics of it all. They get naked, have sex, and then wash and cuddle. Or at least he hoped there would be copious amounts of cuddling. 

“Ready?” Edward asked and brought his face back up to the other’s and his hands grabbed the strings holding the sweats up. Oswald held his gaze for just a moment, just long enough to feel, in his heart, that it wasn’t something clinical or something to do, it was something special. It was something precious. All just because it was with Ed. And he nodded. 

Ed easily untied the string and pulled both Oswald’s pants and briefs down, lowering them as he lowered himself until he was kneeling in front of Oswald. Oswald was stunning at this angle. He was perfect, plush pale thighs framing neatly trimmed pitch black hair that was already soaked, his soft belly and hips that were begging to be kissed and marked up all the way to his chest, his lips parted as he panted lightly, and his eyes that were filled with something hot and desperate as he looked down at Ed. 

“Pretty, so pretty, Ozzy. Bed, now.” Edward said and stood back up, working his own slacks and underwear down and off. Oswald positioned himself in the middle of the bed, flat on his back, hands folded over his chest, waiting. 

But oh he couldn’t keep his eyes from feasting upon the image beside him. Ed was… so much more than he had imagined. He was so… so . He had soft looking smooth skin, his tan carved around a pair of shorts, lines blatant where his pale hips and groin met his tan thighs and stomach. 

And Oswald was looking. 

He was looking , and he was… getting a bit nervous. Because he was naked. And Ed was naked. And Ed had very different equipment. And Ed’s equipment was… a lot. His cock was hard, reaching up toward his belly, and much bigger than Oswald’s toy.

“Are you alright, Ozzy? You can touch me, I’m going to touch you.” Edward explained as he crawled onto the bed, kneeling at the end by Oswald’s still sock covered feet. He gently took one fragile ankle into his hand, Oswald’s good leg, and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss onto the joint as his other hand caressed up and down the rest of his leg gently. 

Oswald gasped and hummed, pleasure buzzing in his belly already. He knew Edward was looking between his thighs, where his soft place was still hidden away by the pudge of his thighs. He looked over Ed, his smooth sculpted chest, strong legs, full and rosy cock, and spread his legs till they were on either side of his partner. 

“That’s good Oswald, do you want me to touch you?” Edward asked and moved so he was sitting between Oswald’s knees, careful of the busted and scarred one. He was looking down at where Oswald was finally showing him… he was soaked. Framed by such dark hair only made the slick rosy folds look more enticing. His clit just bigger than normal, hole clenching when he noticed Ed looking. 

“Y-yes please” Oswald said and took Ed’s hand in his own trembling one, bringing it down to his hole. Edward smiled and leaned down, chests pressing together, skin on skin making Oswald gasp. Edward grinned into the kiss they shared. 

He continued to kiss and lick into Oswald’s mouth as he let out a long, pitchy moan as Ed slipped two of his fingers into his welcoming hole. At this angle he could press his palm into Oswald’s clit, which he did. 

“Eddy! Eddy, please please please, I-I- Please Ed!” Oswald begged as his hands flew up to hold onto Ed’s shoulders, short nails digging in. He panted and his eyes squeezed shut, nearly overwhelmed from how very very close they were. 

Edward kept kissing him, across his lips, near his ears, down his neck, he was savoring the feeling of Oswald clenching around his fingers as he moved them in a slow rhythm of in and out. He savored each one of Oswald’s whimpers and small shouts as he worked his fingers fast, as he pitched them up to rub across the soft sensitive spot inside. 

“Eddy, ple-EASE! I- I know what comes next, please Ed. Put- put it in.” Oswald begged and pushed at Ed’s wrist, pushing his fingers out. He was sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead, thighs trembling, eyes teared up and blown nearly black, just a rim of blue left. 

“Are you sure Oswald?” Ed asked as he reached over to the bedside and pulled out a condom and packet of lube. He sat back on his haunches and had to give himself a tight squeeze. He was already way too close just from kissing and fingering his partner. 

“I think so. ‘M ready for you Ed.” Oswald said as he scootched back so his head was higher on the pillow. He situated himself so his legs were spread but his bad leg was in a good spot, and closed his eyes and waited. 

He expected Ed to just… do it. 

But of course it was Ed and he had to make sure everything was perfect. 

“Oswald, I’m putting a towel down so when we’re done we can just rest. Pick up your legs for a moment.” Ed unfolded and slipped the soft plush towel underneath Oswald’s bottom, spreading across the bed. He took a moment to look at Oswald again. The soft smile on his face, his just slightly trembling thighs, his dripping hole, and his eyes, twinkling and waiting. 

When he was finally in position, kneeling between Oswald’s thighs, feeling the plush softness against his own hips, he forgot all plans of teasing Oswald’s clit, of making it last, of anything other than getting inside of his partner. When he looked down and saw Oswald’s small hands grabbing the pillow beside his head, lips swollen and red from kissing, his eyes rimmed red only making the blue look that much more vibrant, his hips begging to move and wiggle but being forced to stay still, Ed just couldn’t stay away. 

“Easy, Oswald, easy” Ed whispered as he slowly pushed himself forward, into Oswald’s soft, hot, tight hole. Oswald howled, a sound that was cracking and pitchy that Edward could feel . The shorter man thrashed against the bed a bit, throwing his head back and forth, arms pulling Ed back down so they were chest to chest again. 

“Ed, Ed, Edward, please, please, I-I- it’s so much!” Oswald babbled as he scratched long red lines down Ed’s back. 

Edward just let his hips sit still once he was fully seated inside. He buried his face in Oswald’s neck, arms holding himself so he didn’t squish his partner. Oswald was… so good. So warm, so wet, so perfect. He was so good when he couldn’t help but let his hips jump and twitch, he was so good when he moaned as Ed slipped a hand between them to find his clit again, and he was so so good when Ed gave him a small shallow thrust and he screamed. 

“Ed! Oh! More, more, more, more, more, more, please, please Eddy” Oswald chanted and grabbed a hold on the pillow by his head, eyes tightly closed, lips hanging open letting out constant moans and whines as Ed started to fuck him in ernest. 

The brunette pushed himself up onto his hands, looked down at Oswald’s face, got his knees under himself a bit better, and let himself really go. The slapping sounds that emanated between them were drowned out by Oswald’s moans. Long, needy, pitchy sounds that ended in gasps or whines. 

Oswald was overwhelmed with utter pleasure, unable to think , much too far one to even consider that he was being too loud. He didn’t even know he was making noise. He was so lost in the way Ed felt as he thrusted up into his body, as all his good spots were being used and hit over and over again. He was lost between Ed’s cock filling in such a new and burning hot way, and Ed’s soft fingers rubbing quick slick little circles over his clit. He was lost in Ed’s short pleasured pants and breathy moans. 

He didn’t even know the words that were coming out of his mouth once he started getting that rushing water kinda feeling low in his pelvis. 

“Please, please, please, Eddy, please, please, please, I’ll be good, I’ll, I’ll be good, please Eddy, please, please please” Oswald babbled as he bucked and tried to push back onto Ed’s thrusts. 

Ed was on fire, his very soul was burning up with each one of Oswald’s pathetic little mewls, with every begging word that slipped past his lips, he was catching fire. He was slamming into the smaller body below him, careless of whether or not he would bruise the other man. His mind was tuned to a new wave, one that hungered for the power he had over the other, for the utter control he had of the situation. And he liked it. He liked that he could stop and Oswald would cry. He liked that if he wanted to he could put hands on Oswald and make him wait. He liked that if he wanted to he could make Oswald turn to ruin. And he really liked that he was making Oswald turn to nothing but a soaked, pleading, pathetic thing for him. 

Lovely. 

It was lovely, the soft wetness that soaked the bed, the whimpers, the pleads, they were nothing but lovely . 

“Ed, Ed, Ed, I’m gonna-” Oswald warned as the rushing water turned boiling in his belly, he was screaming with each deep long thrust, each rough rub his clit was getting. 

And Ed nearly stopped, he nearly let himself feed into that sadistic urge that was clawing at his mind. But he just couldn’t . He couldn’t stop from slamming into the responsive, wonderful, loud little thing below him. 

“Come on, Ozzy, good boy, cum, gonna cum too.” Ed said and he was. He was getting the gittery desperate feeling in his hips, making it impossible to keep rhythm. 

Oswald had started to have little twitches, tightening around him sporadically. He was clawing again, hands struggling to grab onto Ed and hold on. His whole body was jerking, twisting, kicking, like he was a twisted up rubber band. 

“I love you, oh, I love you, I love you I loveyouIloveyouIloveyou” Oswald chanted out and screamed as his body pulled taught, like he was frozen. He was still, back pulled up into an arch, mouth hung open, eyes rolled to the back of his head, nails firmly dug into Ed’s back. 

It only took one look at Oswald’s blissed face for Ed to let out a long groan and let himself cum deep within Oswald’s trembling center. He kept himself still inside even as Oswald melted. He kept himself inside even as he softened and Oswald relaxed into a puddle on the bed. He only pulled out when the condom began to leak back onto himself. 

He tied off the condom and threw it in the small trash can beside the bed, he used the towel to wipe himself and Oswald off, and tossed it off the side of the bed to lay beside Oswald. 

“Do we cuddle now?” Oswald asked, slurred and slow. Edward huffed a laugh and pulled Oswald close to him, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“Yes Oswald, we can cuddle as long as you want. Whenever you want.” Ed promised. He smiled at Oswald as he snuggled in, pulling the blanket up over their naked bodies. 

Ed was happy. And he liked the way he felt settled in his mind. He liked the clarity he was granted as he worked the next day, planning on how to make Oswald… cry. How to make him scream and cry and beg for mercy. How to make him worse …. And perhaps that was very terrible but somehow a different side of Edward was carving itself out. 

[forevergreenwithenvy]

forever green

a disaster lies ahead of us

an apology won’t suffice

if i had a choice in the matter, i would have gone mad a long time ago

calloused fingers from years of labor

long nights spent pondering

if i was the man of the house, i would have sold it a long time ago

my sister wants to find a husband

she wants to study and become a doctor

she’s got the beauty and the brains

she has a line of suitors waiting for her to say ‘yes’

i have to give it to her, she’s planned her escape quite well

she won’t be found with the rest of us in the wreckage

i was too sharp around the edges, so they had to send me away

to a madhouse up north where no one would recognize me

if only i possessed beauty, they might have been able to dismiss my peculiar nature

a secret passage to my crypt

a farewell note was left for me

if only you had asked, with my last remaining nerve, i would have told you to fuck yourself

dark circles under my eyes

ruined all my best laid plans

if he had asked me to marry him, i might have had a good enough reason to leave

one of my brothers has gone a little rogue

he claims his mind has been poisoned by the felons he spends time with

a sorry excuse for his indiscretions, his gambling and the murder charges against him

my youngest brother turned to god when he found the body parts hidden beneath the loose floor board

i have to give it to them, at least they’re following our parents footsteps

i tried to sell a family heirloom to some crook for a one way ticket to hell

but he rejected my offer and told me i was too pure

not the kind of girl who should be found walking these streets

i reckon the pious wouldn’t agree

so where do i belong if i’m not wanted anywhere i go?

i should have spoken up before it was too late

i felt an urgency crawl up my spine like a chill in the night

i was too ashamed to admit i grew up to be a capricious woman

my fate was sealed in a state of hysteria

forever green with envy

torn apart like a ragged doll

my favorite mysteries will remain the outcomes of different paths i could have walked

my devious siblings vanished like the illusions i dreamed up of my freedom

they escaped my cruel prison and left me chained to my pent up rage

my sanctuary was overrun by flames

only a sliver of honor left in me

they will find me in the wreckage, the one who stayed

[skzhocomments]

In the Dark - Choi Minho SHINee Fanfic - Chapter 10 - Falling apart

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Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 9 | Chapter 11

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Chapter 10 - Falling apart

chapter word count: ~4k words

~Jieun’s POV~

“Psst. Miss Park, are you awake?”

“Hm?” I opened my eyes slowly, feeling my head throbbing with pain. “Nari?”

“Good morning!” She smiled brightly next to me.

Did I fall asleep here…?

Trying to piece together yesterday’s events, I quickly recalled that Nari wanted to see a film, so we decided to come to this room and watch it in bed, since she wasn’t feeling too well.

We watched half the movie when I noticed that Nari fell asleep, and since I didn’t want to move and risk waking her up before making sure her sleep is deep enough, I turned off the TV and plopped my head down on the pillow next to hers.

I must’ve dozed off as well.

“Good morning.” I replied, trying to smile back, but the pain in my head was making it hard to.

“Miss Park, do you think daddy is home?”

“It’s morning, so he probably is. Why don’t you go check?” I replied softly, feeling my throat dry. Every time I tried to say something, it would sting painfully.

“Okay! I’ll go!” She exclaimed then jumped off the bed.

At least she seems to be better.

I tried to get out of the bed, but my muscles were sore and aching all over, and I felt weak with each movement. Even raising up my arms in the air was difficult, and it took all my strength to push my body up to sit on the bed instead of laying down.

Fuck, am I sick? I cursed and tried to stand up, but as soon as my body left the covers, I felt a chill run down my spine, and I got dizzy, which made it impossible to keep going. I sat right back on the bed and tried to collect myself, to make sense of all the fog in my brain.

I was so horribly cold, shivering, and I figured out I must be running a fever.

I laid back down and wrapped myself in the bed covers, but it didn’t help at all.

A few moments later, somebody knocked on the door and opened it slowly.

“Jieun?” Minho whispered.

“Hm?” Was all I could reply, as my throat was now killing me. It felt as if there were one million little soldiers on my muscles, stabbing me with their tiny swords at the same time over and over again.

“Hey.” He approached the bed. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head. “I think I got the virus.”

“Oh no.” He came closer and pressed his hand against my forehead. It was so cold. “You have a fever.”

Even after he checked my temperature with his hand, he didn’t take it away from me. He moved it further in my hair and caressed it gently.

“What time is it?”

“7:15.”

“So damn early.” I tried to chuckle, but instead I started coughing. “When did you get home?”

“At about 10 PM. You stopped replying to my texts and I got worried.”

“Sorry. I dozed off after dinner.”

“No issues. I’m sorry you caught whatever Nari has.”

“Mhm, that’s fine. My muscles are killing me, everything hurts, so I’ll stay in bed for a little bit longer, and then I’ll go home, okay?”

Minho shook his head.

“Is anyone waiting for you at home?”

“At home…? No…”

“Our family doctor is coming at 10 to see Nari, so he’ll see you too. Then you’ll stay here today and let me take care of you.”

“Minho, how could I-”

“Yeah, I’m wondering the same. How could I let you go to an empty home when you’re feeling like this?”

“But-”

“Shh. Go back to sleep and I’ll wake you up at 9:30, okay?”

“Okay…” I reluctantly agreed and closed my eyes, and I dozed off quickly. Sleeping fixes most issues and helps the immune system, so Minho wasn’t wrong to want me to go back to sleep.

~

“Okay, let’s see. Your name?” The doctor asked. He was a middle-aged man, his hair fairly white around the sides, whose voice was pleasant and calming. It was a bit hard to hear him, since he was speaking so quietly and was wearing a mask, which made it impossible to see his lips moving and help my brain decipher his words.

“Park Jieun.”

“Age?”

“27.”

“Noted. So, miss Park, since the symptoms you’ve described are most likely caused by the new virus, we will do a swap test to confirm. Could you please lean your head back a bit?”

I nodded and followed his instructions, and he proceeded to stick a long swab into my nose. It felt uncomfortable, and I wondered if that’s what those poor people who had to go through lobotomies felt like. I mean, let’s be serious – my brain can’t be that far away. What if he pokes it by mistake?

Horrifying.

“Good. A quick positive.” The doctor chuckled. “You must be feeling horrible.”

“Indeed. Everything hurts. My muscles are so sore…”

“Yes, and you must be feeling pretty dizzy from the fever, right?”

“Mhm.” I nodded.

“Poor thing. I’ll prescribe you some meds and vitamins you should take for the next 7 days and will write you a medical note for work for the next week. If you focus on resting, you should be back on your feet in a few days.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and stood up, seeing the doctor out. Minho was patiently waiting in the kitchen with Nari while the doctor examined me, to give me privacy.

“Mr. Choi,” the doctor started “do take into account that the virus is highly contagious, and you should wear a mask around these two.” And with that, the doctor left.

“So, what did he say?” Minho asked anxiously, making me chuckle slightly. Why was he so worried?

“That I should rest for the next couple days and take these meds,” I showed him the list the doctor wrote, “so I’ll drop by the pharmacy on the way back. Do you happen to have a mask?” I asked, and Minho frowned.

“The way back to where?”

“Home…?”

“But there’s no one there. Who will take care of you and bring you things if you go there?”

“Then, will you really take care of me and bring me things if I stay here?” I laughed briefly, but seeing his stern face made me realise that he wasn’t joking, and he actually wanted me to stay at his place.

“Of course I will.”

“Uhm… I mean…”

“I’m serious. Please stay here.” He insisted once more, and the look in his eyes was so convincing, I caved.

“…I’d also have to come back tomorrow to take care of Nari anyway…”

“Exactly.”

“But I don’t have any clothes…”

“I’m going out to the pharmacy anyway, so I’ll just grab you whatever you need, is that okay?”

“I guess so…” I looked at him dumbfounded.

What the fuck is happening?

“Good. Make a list.”

~

It was really embarrassing to make that list, since I also had to add pyjamas and underwear, and which sizes Minho should buy. However, these were necessities, and if he was going to ask me to stay here and not let me go home or go shopping myself because “You have to rest”, then he’s going to also have to go through the embarrassment of buying his daughter’s teacher underwear.

This thought process didn’t make me feel any better, though, but thankfully I was able to blame the fever for the obvious blushing on my cheeks when Minho got home and gave me the shopping bags.

“I didn’t… uhm, I wasn’t sure which ones to get, so I got a little bit of everything.” He said clumsily, rubbing his nape. It was kind of cute to see him so flushed.

Maybe he was also getting a fever.

I opened all the bags and couldn’t help but chuckle as I saw what he bought exactly. He actually got everything, from bodyshorts and briefs to thongs and g-strings.

No wonder he was blushing that much.

This was certainly an unusual situation.

There was something else inside the bags as well, and opening it, I burst out laughing.

He bought a portable charger.

“Minho, what’s this?” I asked him as I went back into the living room, showing it to him.

Nari was busying herself with doing some doodles on a notebook, and Minho was watching TV.

“Oh, you know. You always run out of battery, so…”

“Thanks.” I chuckled.

“How are you feeling?”

“Horrible. I’m gonna make some tea. Nari, do you want some?”

“Yes! Can I squeeze the lemons again?”

“Sure.” I smiled. “What about you, Minho. Fancy a ginger tea?”

“Yeah. Need help?”

“No, don’t worry. You can chill back. It’s your free day.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I have a loooong week ahead.”

“Daddy, you’re working too much.” Nari pouted.

“Should we take a nice holiday once this album gets released?”

“Yes! I want to go to the beach!” Nari grinned ear to ear.

“But it’s still winter.” I replied, stating an obvious fact, but it was only met with laughter by Nari.

“Miss Park, you’re so silly!” She chuckled. “We can just go to a place where it’s summer! Daddy said as long as I study a lot, we can go anywhere!”

“Oh, yeah, silly me.” I chuckled in disbelief. I forgot for a few moments that a tropical island in the middle of the ocean was no impossible feat to Minho. “However, you do know that doing so isn’t that simple, right?”

“What do you mean?” She tilted her head.

“Well…” I looked over to Minho, who looked at me like a deer caught in headlights. I frowned slightly and silently urged him to explain that not everyone was as fortunate, that they were an exception, and the earlier his daughter learned that, the better.

“Nari, you see?” Minho started humming, as if unsure of how to broach this topic.

It was clear that he’s always given his daughter everything he could, but still, I thought it’s irresponsible to do so without clearly explaining that the real world doesn’t work this way.

He looked at me again while opening and closing his mouth a few times, and I realised that this might be a teaching moment for both the daughter and the father.

“Nari,” I started, “you know your dad loves you very much, right? And he works as hard as he does specifically so that he can take you where it’s always summer as soon as you say you’d like that.”

“Yes!” Nari agreed immediately.

“However, this isn’t a reality for many people, no matter how much they study or work, so you should be careful to not hurt other people’s feelings when expressing how much your dad shows you that he loves you.” I gently patted her head.

“But why?” She asked with a slight frown.

“Fun trips like that are very expensive, and some families are not as fortunate. Your friends might take it the wrong way, as if you’re boasting that you can go, while they can’t.” I continued.

“Yes. What Miss Park is trying to say is your friends might get their feelings hurt if you tell them they just have to study hard, and their parents would take them anywhere they want. They definitely would, but sometimes it’s just not possible, and it’s no one’s fault.”

“Oh.” Nari nodded. “Is that why the girl behind me didn’t get a new tablet on her birthday?”

“Maybe! Everyone has to work really hard, but sometimes, even if you work very hard, it’s difficult to buy all the things you want. Sometimes you have to save up for something you really really want, in order to afford it.”

“Okay daddy. Miss Park, do you like going to the beach?” Nari asked, changing the subject, as I pulled out the lemons and the ginger from the fridge.

“Yes, I love it.”

“You should come with us, then!” She exclaimed happily, and I just chuckled and nodded along.

The rest of the day went pretty well, despite the horrible headache and soreness in all my muscles. Still, I tried my best to not lay in bed all day, and I played with Nari instead.

I didn’t have any energy to cook, though, so Minho convinced me to order something for dinner instead and informed me that the chef will come during lunch and dinner time the whole week, so I should simply focus on getting better.

After putting Nari to bed, we both decided to retire early, since I had no energy left, and Minho had a tough week ahead of him.

~

“You shouldn’t have woken up so early.” Minho frowned.

“Here.” I said, giving him his coat. It was pretty funny to assist him in getting ready for work. It all felt domestic and intimate in a way, and the thought that I was going to live with him and Nari for the whole week brough a smile to my lips.

“Thank you. But seriously, why did you wake up?”

“I wanted to see you off.”

“You hate waking up early.”

“You know me well.” I chuckled, and Minho did, too.

“How are you feeling? How’s your fever?” He asked, but instead of waiting for a response, he placed his hand firmly on my forehead.

My heart skipped a beat.

“Well, I’m still feeling drained of energy, so I’ll probably head back to bed after you leave.”

“You’re lucky, Nari tends to sleep in only when she’s sick.” He chuckled, taking his hand way. “Call me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Sure.” I smiled.

“The chef doesn’t need any help; he has the passcode and will come and occupy the kitchen. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Okay.”

“And if Nari needs something-”

“Minho.” I cut him off, chuckling slightly. “We will be okay.”

“I just feel terrible leaving her alone again…”

“You’re not leaving her alone. Just do your best at work and finish whatever you have to do, and we’ll be here when you get back.”

Minho threw me an unsure look, but I just urged him out the door.

“Come on! I know you’re stubborn.” I chuckled slightly and he pouted. “Is your office far away?”

“Not really. About 15 minutes away, maybe.”

“Why don’t you come have lunch with us, then? I know we aren’t the greatest company when sick, but we’ll do our best.” I smiled.

“I don’t know…”

“It shouldn’t take you more than one hour to make the trip and eat. Work can wait for one hour.”

Minho thought about it for a few moments, before nodding.

“Yeah. I guess I could do that…”

“See you in a few hours?”

“Yes. Thanks, Jieun. Then, I’m off.”

“Drive safe!”

I waved at him and watched him close the door, and then I headed back to the guestroom, getting under the covers and trying to fall back asleep.

I hated being sick, and I could already feel my sinuses swelling up. I needed to blow my nose, and my eyes started watering.

Fighting off all of these symptoms, I fell asleep, and when I woke up a few hours later, Nari was cuddled up to me in bed.

“Good morning.” I looked down at the girl lying close to my chest.

“Miss Park, I’m not feeling too well.”

“Oh, baby, I know.” I brushed my hand in her hair and massaged her scalp with my nails, making her relax more. “Are you hungry? Should we go have some breakfast?”

“I don’t want to eat.”

“You have to. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It gives us all the energy we need.”

“But I feel sick.”

“Hmm, then how about some toast with butter and a tea? That should help your stomach.”

“Okay.” The little girl nodded meekly and sat up the bed. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were glossy.

I got up and immediately felt like fainting, but I tried to push through, not wanting to give Nari a scare.

My whole body was hurting, but I somehow made my way through the kitchen and successfully made the tea. I served breakfast and forced myself to eat a piece of toast as well, and when we were done, we headed back to the guestroom and watched TV until we heard the door open.

I got up to check and greeted the chef, informing him that we’re going to keep our distance, not wanting to give him whatever virus we caught. Even if he was wearing a mask, I could see the wrinkles next do his eyes, so I assumed he was smiling at my explanation.

~

“Do you think the chef left?” Nari looked at me with her big, rounded eyes, as we heard the click of the door.

“Hmm, I don’t know, why don’t you go and look?” I suggested, knowing it’s most likely Minho.

My suspicions were confirmed seconds later when Nari shouted “Daddy!” and started running away. I didn’t have any energy left in me to get up, though, so I laid on the bed and closed my eyes briefly.

~

“Hey.” I opened my eyes, confused, feeling a large hand on my forehead.

“Minho?”

“You’re burning up again.”

“Mhm.”

“Lunch is ready.”

“Did I fall asleep?” I asked, eyes still closed. It felt impossible to open them and get up.

“Yes. It’s all right.”

“Ugh…” I struggled to sit up, placing my hand above my eyes and rubbing the sore spot. “My head is killing me.”

“Did you take your pills?”

“Yeah, in the morning.”

“Let’s eat and then you can take them again and rest some more, hm?”

“Yeah.” I nodded and stood up with Minho’s help, and as soon as I left the covers, I started shivering.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Minho, who disappeared and came back moments later with a fluffy cardigan that he placed swiftly on my shoulders.

“Thanks.” I smiled.

“No worries. Let’s go. The chef cooked some soup for the starter, and I don’t know what for the main dish, but apparently, it’s good for your cold.”

“That’s explicit.” I chuckled.

“Yeah.” He laughed too, and we both went to the kitchen and sat down the table. Nari was already there, taking spoonfuls of her soup, but the chef decided not to join us, and instead have his lunch someplace else outside the home, before doing the shopping for dinner.

Nari seemed to be feeling better, especially now that Minho was there, and was talkative during the meal. We all talked about all sorts of subjects, and it felt once again domestic to be there with them, to spend time together during meals and eat like a family.

Every day went like this, with Minho leaving home early in the morning and me seeing him off, only to meet him again during lunch and dinner. We’d put Nari to sleep together after she’s asked both of us to read her a bedtime story together, and then I’d see Minho off once again and go to sleep myself. Since he was leaving during the day, he had to make up for the lost time by working a bit more during the night.

It was easy to fall into such a comfortable routine, and even though I’ve only lived with them for a few days, I already started to feel like home, like I belonged there. Nari liked my presence too, as more often than not she would move from her bed to mine to sleep, especially in the mornings. She was, after all, an early bird just like her dad, so every day after seeing Minho off, I’d return to my bedsheets and wake up 3 hours later with Nari cuddled up to me.

With each passing day both Nari and I started getting better, and when Friday finally rolled around, my symptoms were almost gone, just as the doctor said.

The only thing that was going wrong, though, was my grandma’s health. She has been moved into the ICU for developing an even worse kind of pneumonia and being unable to fight the virus off. There was no way to visit or do anything, so I tried not to think too much about it and stay hopeful instead.

Minho also surprised us on Friday by coming home earlier. Well, actually, he came by for lunch and simply didn’t go back to the office.

“I finally finished.” He boasted proudly.

“Well done.” I smiled.

“We should celebrate, but you’re still taking pills so we can’t drink.” He pouted.

“Sorry.” I chuckled. “Nari’s going to be really happy when she wakes up from her nap and you’re still here.”

And indeed, she was.

I wanted to give the two privacy and allow them to finally spend time together, but Minho insisted I stay for dinner as well, and Nari almost cried when I told her I’m going back home and won’t tuck her in tonight, so I decided to hang around a bit more and leave after putting Nari to sleep.

“She really got used to you, huh?” Minho smiled, his eyes showing a tad of sadness.

“I got used to her too, honestly.” I chuckled. “She’s the sweetest kid. Ahhh, I have baby fever now! Unfair.”

“So, are you going home? Don’t you want to stay until tomorrow morning?”

“Minho, if I keep postponing it, I’ll never leave. Nari’s going to take me as a prisoner.” I joked, and both of us started laughing.

“I don’t think you should be scared of Nari. I’m scarier.”

“Oh? How so? Do you want to lock me up in your house?” I tilted my head innocently and smirked.

“Yeah, something like that.” Minho replied and came closer to me, placing his hands firmly on my waist, and it suddenly became hard to breathe.

This was inappropriate. I was just his daughter’s teacher, and a part-time prostitute, but… how was it any appropriate for me to stay by his place for a whole week?

Without overthinking it any further, I raised on my tiptoes and kissed his lips. The reciprocation came immediately, for Minho didn’t waste any seconds to kiss me back.

Maybe the kiss meant nothing. It didn’t need to.

Or maybe the kiss meant everything, because my heart was beating faster and faster, and I reached a point where I couldn’t separate myself from Minho anymore. I wanted to keep kissing him.

His lips moved to my jaw, and I bit down a moan. We were still in the hallway, and I didn’t want to risk waking Nari up. Instead, I squeezed Minho’s shirt on his back and let him kiss my neck.

This felt wrong, but not because I had the moral dilemma of being his daughter’s teacher. Fuck that, we were way past that point.

I simply felt guilty, and it was rising in my chest with each of his kisses. I felt guilty for being a prostitute, for wanting to have my cake and eat it too. I felt guilty because even if I slept with Minho now, it wouldn’t change anything. If Charisma would book me tomorrow, I would go without a second thought, because I still needed money for grandma’s treatment.

Minho’s right hand rose higher on my body, covering my right breast with the same firmness he was holding my waist moments prior, and his mouth reached lower, kissing my chest. He was unaware of my inner turmoil, but I knew I had to stop this from escalating.

“Minho-” I start, then let out a moan and rolled my head back as he raised my shirt and uncovered my breasts, attaching his mouth to my nipple. “Minho.”

I said again, and he looked up to me.

“Yeah? Oh, right. We could move to the bedroom-”

“Please stop.” I blurted out and immediately averted my gaze. It felt shameful, to want him so much but still deny it to myself, to put us in this awkward position.

“Oh.” Minho stood straight, his face expressionless. “I’m sorry. I must’ve overstepped.”

“No, it’s not-”

“I’ll call you a cab?” He cut me off, an urgency in his voice, and if until now I’ve always felt at home in his house, now I knew that I’ve finally outstayed my welcome.

“… No, it’s fine. I’ll call one myself.” I put on my shoes and grabbed my coat, then put my hand on the door’s handle.

“I’ll see you downstairs, then.” Minho offered, but I just shook my head.

“No need. Thank you.” I mouthed, and looking into his eyes, it seemed there was more he had to say.

I also had more to say.

However, we stood silent, looking at each other with disappointment and longing in our eyes, and then I left.

~

Chapter 9 | Chapter 11

[grigori77]

Critical Role, Campaign 3 Episode 64

They're getting back together! THEY'RE GETTING BACK TOGETHER!!! Even the title says so!

It's a plug for rings ... oh dear gods what is Sam going to do to us? Oh wow ... he's going SURREAL this time ... and super bugging Matt too ... I'm loving this ... this is one of the best ones yet ...

Laura: "Is it just gonna say 'Sam' for the rest of the night?" XD

Matt: "Let's get on and jump into tonight's episode of ... Sam & a Sam!" LOL

Okay ... how's this gonna go, then? How's it gonna start? Who's at the table first?

Ah ... it's the first group ... okay then ...

Fuck! Everybody takes 18 points of Force Damage MID JUMP?!!! Seriously?

Travis just made THE EXACT same roll ... fuck ... AND THEY TAKE ANOTHER 15 POINTS?!!! Bloody hell ...

Matt says it's getting all Doctor Strange ... yeah, Travis is EXACTLY where my brain went too ...

13? Fuck, Laura ... is that good or bad? Are they all gonna die? They're all SO NERVOUS ...

Landing! Oof ... and now FRIDA can't speak the Common Tongue ... Deanna does a hard reset on them! XD

On top of a mountain? Where the hell are they? Oof ... thus don't sound right ... ummmmm ... not Marquet, then ... birds? Wait ... they're being MOBBED now? FCG: "Are they coming for ME?"

Oh shit, they're UNDER ATTACK?!!! Crap ... yeah, just show your bellies, guys!

A group Dex save? Oof ... and now they're TRAPPED!!! Yup ... that's about right ...

Oh, Chetney may have just got them ALL killed ...

FCG is bricking it ... "Are you friends with Shithead? Did he send you?"

So they're bird PEOPLE ... Aarakocras? Is that it, then?

Fuck, Laura's rolling SHITE tonight ... Aabria's determined to confiscate her dice before she gets them killed. XD

Fearne for a Persuasion check instead ... okay ... 24? Fucking hell ... oh shit, did it WORK finally?

Oh, blindfolds? For a second thst was worrying ...

Still on Wildemount, then ... hmmm ...

The aeormatons can SPEAK TO EACH OTHER IN THEIR HEADS now? When did that start?

Crap, FCG's getting red-eye again ...

Now Fearne's trying to talk them into a free ride ... oh, that's a bad roll ... or not? Hmmmmm ... um ... yeah, I don't think this is gonna go too well ...

Divine Intervention? Oh boy ... argh ... nuts ...

Fuck, FCG is about to ho full-blown BERSERK ...

Calm Emotions? Oh boy ... here we go ... oh thank fuck ... phew ...

Wow, Travis just made that SO FILTHY ... XD

Ouch ... rough landings all round ... argh ... but at least they're free ...

Yeah, those bird people are ARSEHOLES ...

Just CHILL OUT, robit! Thanks, FRIDA ...

Another Divine Intervention? Balls ... that was a shitshow ...

Ah, the rigours of having to sleep when you're not sleepy ...

Okay, camping for the night ...

Oh, so NOW we find out if FCG actually dreams ...

So ... is this NOT part if FCG's original programming, then? Hmmmmmm ...

Morning? Okay ... are they trying again? Oof ...

Just winging it, then ...

Sam: "I cast Command on her ... SUCCEED!!!"

55? Argh ... thump ... night time? Where are they NOW? Cobbles? Smoke? Jungle far below? Jrusar? Holy FUCK!!! I thought that was a CRAP roll?

Wow ... Ruidus really is LOCKED in place ... that is just CREEPY ... yeah, no shit folk are TENSE right now ...

The Smolder Spire ... okay ...

Trying Scry and Sending? Are you sure?

Wait, Deanna's spell is WORKING?!!! Crazy ...

Imogen hearing Laudna's okay and her reaction is PRICELESS, that is so adorable ...

Sending ... a D100? Crap ... 69, though ... XD

Soot and Swill? Good call. Do that next.

A diorama? That's adorable ...

So, no curfew, just tension ... okay ...

Here we go ... no messages? Hmmm ...

Pretty! Yay! :3 Awwwww, ogre hugs, I love that ...

Deanna tries to stealthily fix Pretty's PJs ... and gets busted! LOL ... "Ooh, it's almost PLEATED!!!" XD

FCG: "No, we just came to wake you up, sew your clothes and leave." Pretty: "... okay."

Oh yeah, the lost skyship ... that still hurts ...

Oh shit ... they could Scry on Ludinus? Hmmmmm ...

Oh yeah, people are CREEPED OUT right now by this Ruidus shit ...

Vasselheim is HERE?!!! Oh, that can't be good ...

Attempted queue jumping? Hmmmm ... I'm not sure this is gonna go well ...

A racoon dog? Awwwwwww ... how does Fearne KEEP DOING THIS to us? :3

Oh, so this is WORSE for Imogen than the gondolas? Great ...

Phew ... they made it despite Chetney getting that urge to jump ...

FRIDA freaking Deanna out by talking in HER head too ... XD

Heading for Spire By Fire ...

Big Katari? Hmmm ... DO WE know this guy? He's very friendly, I'll give him that ... ah ... it's a barracks now? Hmmmm ...

Oh, these troops are from ALL OVER THE PLACE ...

Imogen getting some air, looking at Ruidus ... it's still pulling at her a little bit ... a message? Hmmmmm ... not sure that's gonna work ... oof ... how bad is this roll? 2? On a D100? Oh my gods ...

Wait ... it actually WORKED?!!! I mean she didn't have a BLOODY CLUE, but still ...

Chetney trying to chat up the soldiers for some info ... XD

Fearne's STILL a raccoon dog ... :3 And she's being snoopy. Here we go ... begging for bacon. XD It worked! Now she's eavesdropping. General anxiety ... hmmmm ...

Imogen's not a big drinker ... makes sense ... wait ... is FRIDA trying to give her LOVE ADVICE?!!! And is FCG getting TOTALLY the wrong idea? XD

Wait, cliffhanger AND going to break? What? WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!!!

We're back ... and I heard MARISHA LAUGH!!! Oooooooh ... NO!!! Bor'Dor WAS NOT a friend!

What the fuck is Prism doing? Aaaaah! Crap ... oh, this is gonna be a mad mess ... dear gods ... what?

Orym's trying a desperate save ... well, if ANYBODY can ... 18 Dex Save? Grabs her tush, but still ... yeah, that KINDA worked ...

So Prism kinda made a bit of a tit of herself bur it's mostly just adorable ...

Nice place ... and it IS a public place, at least ...

Ah yeah, Ruidus again ...

Starpoint Conservatory ... yeah, that's a smart call for Prism.

Ashton: "Yeah, the first trick is not TELLING people that you're lying."

Ah, more Beau-bashing, that's adorably meta ...

Prism has an EIGHT PACK of abs ... "Welcome to the library, bitch!" Oh my gods ...

Where to first? Breakfast ... yes. That's a good idea ... almost as if it's fated? XD

Wow! An actual WORKING gondola! Lucky ...

Ah yes, the tension again ... hmmmmm ...

Here we go ... and Laudna being creepy again ... XD

A "dirty little spell that old Prism would never have taken"? Friends? Okay ... sneaky ...

Oh yeah, the return of the survey ... LOL

Prism: "Can I send Mother after him?" Taliesin: "Just hound him to his grave." XD

ALL of Marisha's PCs have a beef with postal workers, it would seem ...

Oh yeah, the Lumas Twins! That was a while ago ...

Wow, Prism's planning on being a massive ninja geek of knowledge raiding the various houses of learning in Jrusar, isn't she?

To the Shadowfell? Orym: "Sure, if we're still here in two weeks ..."

Oh, so there's god soldiers going round again? Hmmmmm ... oh, the Changebringer? Okay ... no Green Seekers ...

Oh! Here we go! They're back! Oh, and now it's CHAOS as EVERYBODY'S trying to come to the table ... wow ... Holy fuck this is A LOT of people at the table right now. It's the end of Campaign 1 all over again ...

Imogen and Laudna INSTANTLY running over and hugging each other. Also Orym with Fearne ...

Greetings and meetings and ... wow, this is getting CRAZY ...

Fearne: "We had a threesome." O.O

Ah, comparing notes ... oh yes, the spectre of Bor'Dor rears its ugly head again ...

"Serving Bundt" ... yet more Sam's flask chaos ... he has surpassed himself ...

Retiring to the room ...

Yeah, there were good times and bad times in equal measure ... and now Laudna can summon undead ghost wolves from her ... orifices ...

Ah yes ... the Dawnfather incident ... yeah ... Deanna: "I'M GONNA GET SOME MORE DRINKS!!!"

Fearne (gasping): "THAT Deni$e?"

Prism: "IS Santa real?"

Ludinus' notes! Yes! Very handy ...

Chetney's extremely abbreviated account of what they went through ... meanwhile Orym's just fixating on FRIDA ...

Yes, she IS spooky beautiful. :3

Deanna finishes her Communion with her patron ... and Matt's phone goes off! Aabria: "MY IMMERSION!!!" LOL

Deanna: "One last question ... are you WORTH saving?" Ooooooh, DAMN!!!

Laudna and Deanna bonding over having both died at least once ... XD

Literary arsonist ... (snort)

23 nexuses? Hmmmmm ...

The alien, yeah ... FCG: "It's a round ring!" And now Fearne's trying to steal it from Ashton ... ah yes. Ashton: "I missed you so much."

Mother freaks FCG out and we're not surprised AT ALL ... and she shits on him! Of course ...

Discussing next moves ... hmmmm ...

Not that kind of seal, Chetney!

Ah, the talking book. Yeah. Dynios is YET ANOTHER weird revelation and I love it. XD

Yeah, that book is SASSY.

Imogen: "Are you a good book or a bad book?" Dynios: "I am a good book with a bad attitude."

Yes. They DID beat a Judicator ... with a Devil. It was crazy. Laudna: "It was A LOT."

Oh ... is Orym thinking about Deanna trying to Scry on Keyleth? O.O

Everybody's sitting forward ... of course they are ... I am too ...

Oh, the Dawnfather's being a bit petty right now, ain't he? Wow, she's scary right now when she's angry ...

Oh shit! There she is! It's Keyleth! She lives! She's definitely hurt, but ... she's alive!

That was INTENSE ...

She's home? In Zephrah? Cool ...

Oh, the hill. That living hill ... I forgot about that ... and the cougar ... XD

The Reilorans ... yeah ...

Ah yes, Dynios delivers a lecture about the githserai ...

Yeah, I don't think she has any actual connection with the Prism Emporium either, really ...

What, create their own Malleus Key to defeat Predathos? Hmmmmmm ...

Whoa ... FRIDA doesn't actually TRUST "One Punch" Grimpoppy?

Oh man ... FCG is just full-on torn between love and duty here ... that's HEAVY ...

Prism has NO IDEA if she's actually a danger to them or not ... that's kind of adorable and TOTALLY par for the course ...

I love that she seems to have read WAY more into her connection with Orym than anyone else has ...

FCG: "Do you smoke?" Prism: "Of course, I'm a student!"

FRIDA's just talking into various characters' heads ... Fearne: "Why is everybody being so quiet?"

Fearne can Scry now? Ooooooh ...

Prism does Imogen's accent ... :3

Oh, wait ... are we losing the new friends? Already? Man ... I mean we've had them for a while, but ... sad goodbyes ... I hope we see them again before too long MATTHEW!!!

Prism casts Enlarge on Orym ... "Wow! I'm 6 foot 6!" Immediately starts doing pull ups from the rafters ...

Oh man ... so this is it? Parting ways ... man! Not fun ... and that's that? Yeah, saw that coming ...

It was fun while it lasted ...

Thanks Aabria, thanks Christian, and thanks Emily, I hope you'll be back soon ...