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mimiplaysgames · 6 months ago

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The Bed Story, ch. 2 (Reflection)

Terraqua Week 2024, Day 2

Terra/Aqua | Terra/Anti-Aqua Rating: M Word count: 4,443 @terraquaweek

Summary: Terra meets Anti-Aqua, and he's sorry for the things they did and didn't do.

Read on AO3

A/N: I was talking to a friend and we counted - counting the separate fics that are in my anthologies, this is my 40th fic about Terraqua and the Wayfinder Trio. 40!!! To those who were cheering me on from the beginning, thanks for being there. And to those who found me other times, I appreciate you so much! <3

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The library was a place to temper—the best place to spend uninterrupted hours with Aqua, and the best place to keep up appearances. Books and homework were effective eliminators of fervor.

Terra sat on the teal carpet, leaning against a bookshelf of Keyblade history’s oldest tomes, and stretched his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. He kept reading the same sentence over and over, the words shrouding together.

Aqua sat across from him, mimicking his posture. On her lap was a heavy hand-written book where the pages were woven by a ribbon inside a worn leather cover. Affairs of the Heart, the Master of Masters’s stupid magnum opus.

One month left until their Mark of Mastery. Standards for their essays were now entirely reliant on ancient texts, which discussed: the philosophy of connecting your Light to your Keyblade, ethics about fighting the Darkness, and nothing interesting Terra didn’t already know. They were tests to see if they could decipher and regurgitate common knowledge (sometimes nonsense).

Aqua sighed, bringing Affairs closer to her face, as if she needed a magnifying glass to read the text. She nibbled the edge of her lip. Aqua had just cut her hair short, and the desire Terra had for years to tuck it behind her ear intensified. Whenever she tried, it sprung back forward. Terra could do it over and over and it would never stay. It’s cute.

Terra shouldn’t gawk. He cleared his throat. The words in his book ceased to have meaning. “What’s bothering you?”

Aqua’s jaw locked. “For th’re art powers with nay mast’r,” she read.

“In what context?”

“Some Keyblades don’t have Masters.”

Ah. Immediately what came to mind was the Master’s Defender, something ancient and passed along to keepers of the Land of Departure. “Inherited Keyblades.”

“If…” She stopped. The Master of Masters was archaic, and her brows furrowed. She chose her interpretation carefully. She read, “Take thy heart and lodge it yonder chain, and thee shalt findeth a way.”

“A way to what?”

She shrugged. “Using the Keyblades of your comrades.”

“Isn’t chain too strong a word?”

“I think he means link. He must be describing a bond that strong.” Aqua. Always the one to defend the forebears. “Listen to this: Nay fooleth, taketh thy heart and maketh thy star seeth.”

Terra dropped his book to the floor. “I don’t get where this is going.”

“Well, I think he’s using the term star to describe…” She flipped a page. “A Light. Someone equal to you.”

“Or, he’s a clown. I don’t think that book is serious. He wrote vaguely in riddles to confuse everyone.”

“We could try it. Trade our Keyblades.”

Terra strangled a cough. He was really strangling a hopeful laugh. This wasn’t the first time Aqua considered him an equal, but his heart hammered at the thought all the same. Her equal. His and hers.

And this was a very bad idea.

“We tried that when we first conjured our Keyblades,” Terra said. Explosions happened. Earthshaker was desperate and too demanding. Rainfell was sensitive to emotion and needed control.

Aqua straightened the pages with reverence. “We were kids.”

“It was a disaster, or did you forget? We nearly burned down the garden. Rabbits were threatened, Aqua. Innocent rabbits.”

“And we didn’t know each other as well.”

“What difference does that make?”

Aqua licked her lips. Terra smiled. She was about to lecture. “Our Keyblades are an extension of our hearts, yes? And our Light is stronger through the bonds we make, therefore not only do our Keyblades become stronger, they shine more around the people we are connected to the most.”

“You’re saying we’re good friends. How sweet.”

She rolled her eyes and flipped to a previous page and pointed to a sentence. “It says here, To knoweth thy Key is to knoweth who is’t thee lodging thy trust.”

“So you trust me?”

She kicked his hip with the side of her foot—and Terra captured it, pulling her until her ass dragged on the floor.

“No, I don’t,” she said, laughing. “Obviously.”

He let her go. Then Terra felt the void. It haunted him more frequently at every ghost of her touch—a pat on his shoulder, a punch to the bicep, when she straightened his bangs, an accidental brush against her shoulder. Always through clothes—Terra never had a good excuse to casually run his fingers on bare skin.

Aqua rolled forward to her knees and leaned on him thigh-to-thigh. No void now, but a pressing worry over the possibility that one day, she would meet someone else that she would want to be touched by. She flipped the book over to show him.

Terra didn’t take it. He couldn’t even read. Her thigh, her thigh, her thigh.

“Why is this that important to you?”

Aqua took the book back, surprised. “Well… do you know what this means for old Keyblades that are passed around?”

Terra bit his cheek. “It means we have a lot to prove to a Keyblade like Defender.”

Aqua nodded. “The Master’s guest has a similar Keyblade.”

Terra leaned forward and nearly took her chin in his hand. He kept it balled to his stomach. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about him.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I am, actually. We have this stranger judging us without knowing everything we went through. Think about it. If we could wield each other’s Keyblades, it will impress the Master and his guest. Prove to them that our bond is strong and we deserve to pass together. Prove to them that we can wield our inheritances when the time comes.”

This late into their study? “Does the great Master mention how it’s supposed to feel?” he asked. “When we correctly do it?”

When they touched each other’s Keyblades as children, Aqua ran back to her room crying. She had said Earthshaker was “nervous,” in her words. But Terra knew better. His heart exposed like that, it became easy to read, and Terra couldn’t talk to her for days after. Truthfully, he was ashamed that she sensed his insecurity, feeling how he compared himself to her, how he was frustrated with being two years older but at the same level as her, how he was obsessed with falling behind and keeping up and excelling—all within the open aorta that was his immature Keyblade. Probably felt sorry for him, too.

And the other truth? Terra cried by himself in his own room when she didn’t know. Rainfell was confident, radiant, expansive despite Earthshaker being bigger, and Terra couldn’t mimic that.

Aqua didn’t look at him when she said, “He mentioned the word ascendance. It’s supposed to feel like we’re leaning on a friend.” She smiled at him. Did she feel the same about his own thigh or did it not register in her head at all? “I know we can trust each other’s Keyblades. It shouldn’t be hard this time.”

Terra didn’t want to do it, but they built a metric relationship by testing the waters, by challenging each other, correcting technique, pushing and pushing and pushing to be better. If he backed out, Aqua would take it as though something was wrong.

Nothing was wrong. Terra was in love.

What he must do was commit the same calm control Aqua had with Rainfell.

Besides, he needed a win. Side by side for the Mark of Mastery, he needed proof he could stand next to her.

“Let’s do it.”

She beamed.

~*~

The library is destroyed. It has (had) multiple floors, but the upper levels are now barrages of torn shelves and mounds of books that make it impossible to climb the stairs. There’s no way to reach the shelf that houses Affairs of the Heart, but Terra tries looking anyway. Maybe the Master or Ven left it on a table before… everything. But it’s not anywhere. For the time being, Terra gets no answers to any of the lingering questions he has about how to help Aqua. Only a wish to cure her.

The rest of the castle is just as damaged. The east wing is entirely gone, and the west crumbles in most hallways, leaving gaping holes that invite broken bones. Rain pours through the open wounds on the roof, and seeps through the cracks on the walls, spreading mold. Terra’s bedroom is gone, half-collapsed over the cliff below, but Ven’s and Aqua’s are intact.

The kitchen is submerged underneath its ceiling. A cauldron remains. Ven helps by pushing it while Terra pulls. When they drag it into the Master’s study, which is untouched, Terra knocks over a lamp with the bump of his hip.

“I don’t understand,” Terra says, catching the lamp before it shatters on the floor. “Explain to me what happened like I’m five.”

Ven scowls when he inspects how dusty his hands got because of the cauldron. He claps them.

“Well,” Ven starts like he’s talking to a child. “Once upon a time, the Master was mad at me. Terra came and saved me. Terra threw me in a voooortex—I know that’s a difficult word to pronounce—so I didn’t see what happened. Aqua said—”

“Ven.”

“Aqua said she locked me away in an alternate universe of the castle to keep me safe.”

“With the Master’s Defender. Some secret only Masters know.”

“Yeah, and she woke me up again. Well, no. I mean, Sora was the one to officially wake me up. Aqua transformed the castle back with” —Ven waves his hands like he doesn’t know how to describe it— “her incredible new powers. It’s like time went backwards or something.”

It’s impressive how Darkness can bypass a Keyblade’s spell. Then again, the Land of Departure is in the same condition Xehanort left it, from his own Dark curses.

“Why not use the Defender?”

“We need a duster in here.”

“Ven.”

“I don’t know. She said Defender doesn’t respond to her anymore.” Ven shrugs.

Terra taps his fingers on the cauldron. Everything he’s been learning about what happened while he slept—stars, why would anyone want him alive right now?

“How is she?”

Ven scratches his shoulder. “She’s still outside.”

Staring at the Master’s memorial, in the rain, exactly where they left her. That's most of what she does now. Stare blankly.

“At least she’s nice to me,” Ven says. “She hates everyone else.”

Terra inhales, gritting his teeth. Does Aqua have a shorter fuse? Yes. Does she judge people? Only when they truly deserve it. But hate? No. That is not Aqua.

"You're exaggerating."

"Pssh. Just wait until she wants to kill you."

Terra almost says, I don't blame her, but he keeps it to himself.

In the study is an ashen fireplace full of debris. The Master’s personal journals are scattered on his desk, and his favorite books—tomes, novels, children’s books he used to read to Terra—lay on a private shelf opposite. With how little it’s been disturbed, it’s almost as if the Master could open the door, ask them both why the cauldron has been moved here, to please move it back to the kitchen, and not to worry about the state of the castle. It can and will be fixed.

Except there’s so much to be worried about. Thunder strikes the ground, and it sounds close. Rain pummels down the window, leaving a blurred view of storm clouds hiding the mountains.

“There’s no mirror here,” Ven says.

Terra would chuckle, but nothing is funny anymore. “Why are you worried about mirrors?”

“Aqua’s making them all weird. I see things like… nevermind, I don’t want to talk about it. Can you help me take mine out of my room?”

Terra wants to collapse. Everything is weird. “Sure.”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

There’s a loveseat in the study, but Terra’s too tall, so he’ll need to find some clean blankets and nest on the burgundy rug. “Here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What’s the cauldron for?”

Earthshaker still won’t answer when Terra commands it to. “I just need something to occupy my mind.”

“Okay.” Ven doesn’t believe him. That’s because Terra is a terrible liar.

To shut out the silence, Terra pats Ven’s shoulder and says, “Come on. Let’s get your mirror out.”

They leave the mirror in the resident hallway, at Ven’s request that it’s left facing the wall.

That night, it’s still storming, the wind howling like it’s crying. Which is a problem. The Land of Departure is supposed to be the balance of Light and Darkness. These storms aren’t normal. Lightning flashes purple, then green, then red. The rain leaves smears of muck. Aqua isn’t normal. Nothing is normal.

Terra needs to busy his mind.

The way back into the kitchen isn’t safe. Terra jumps over a hole that spawns beneath his feet, and crawls under columns that have fallen over to get to the pantry. Carefully, so he doesn’t trigger a complete cave in. He grabs every herb he can safely reach.

Terra then spends hours removing stone slab after stone slab from the fireplace, some rotten with mold. He pushes the cauldron over the wood, ignites it with a Fire spell, and waits for the water to boil. As thunder rumbles outside, Terra rips dried leaves from stems and mixes them with magic-induced powders that the Master concocted years ago.

It’s quiet. In normal times, he would be knocking on Aqua’s door, and they would sit on her bed and talk about what happened until morning. Normally, the castle lanterns would be lit, offering safe passage at night.

“What are you doing?”

Terra jumps at Aqua’s steady voice and nearly drops the ladle. She’s standing at the doorway. The light from the fire slices half her face in shadow. Her golden eyes glow.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

Aqua walks up to the Master’s desk, and it’s no wonder why. Her steps don’t make a sound. She places a silver hand mirror on the desk, face down. He recognizes it: she keeps it in her vanity drawer.

Terra turns his attention back to his potions. He feels terrible thinking this, but it’s nauseating to look at her. Her body oozes black smoke when she moves, and when he crosses her path in the halls, he finds her staring randomly at the walls, at statues, at shredded stained glass. When she notices his presence, he turns the opposite direction.

It’s not that she’s hideous. It’s that he wants to pretend her condition is not his crime.

He can feel her staring at his back.

“Do you remember these storms?” he asks. They pass through the Land of Departure every twenty years, and lucky Terra and Aqua were around to see the last one. The Master had locked them up in this very study, while he braved the outside and fought this dark energy. The fact that another one is at their doorstep a year early is an omen.

A pause. “Yes.”

Terra inhales to stop himself from crying. She sounds like she will never smile again. More than that, there’s a buried edge to her voice and it crawls over Terra’s skin. Like he’s around a predator, his hairs stand and he’s careful not to trigger an attack.

“Look at me.”

Terra pretends to lean over the cauldron to mix, and lets the onslaught of steam threaten his fear away. Feel pain here, assaulting his face, and it overrides the pain of looking at her face.

But he can’t pretend forever. He finishes his “work,” and he turns. This frown is so unnatural for her—still and unmoving, like she’s dead. In better times, her frown made him laugh.

“Don’t like what you see?” She leans on the desk.

Her face, her jawline that he wants to stroke with his knuckle, sad and torn up. She’s beautiful, and she’s a reminder of every mistake Terra has made.

“It’s not like that,” Terra whispers, and he stares at his shoes.

“Look at me.” Stronger, with vice.

He does, reading her angry eyes, her bleached hair, the claws like needles into the wood. Her lips, pursed and tense. The length of her neck. The color of Darkness spreading over her arms. Her bare shoulders, the straps he’s taken off before.

“I’m sorry,” he says, her face blurring. Hot tears leave burn marks on his cheeks.

Her claws scrape the desk as she stands back up. “I don’t care about your apology.”

“I know what you’re thinking—”

“No, you don’t.”

“Aqua…” He licks his lips, and they taste like salt. Thunder roars. “We have to fix the castle. To protect us. These storms are dangerous.”

“Oh.” She crosses her arms. “How bad.”

Stars, he sounds so stupid, considering what she survived. “We have to think of Ven.”

Again, that predatory feeling that she’s smothers into control. Terra braces for an attack, but none come. “You think I don’t?”

“Stars,” he curses. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I have already taken care of his room. He’ll be fine.”

Terra swallows what feels like thick goo down his throat. “Okay. Thank you.”

“I’m here to take care of this room.”

Terra gapes. He’s expecting her to summon Rainfell, and bless the walls to keep him safe from the storm. But she doesn’t. She’s standing there, glaring at him.

But of course—the shadows that dance with the light from the hearth dance on their own. They shift and warp. She’s creating a barrier for him with her Darkness.

“I get it, you know,” he says.

She doesn’t respond.

He continues, “You feel more in control like this.”

Her jaw locks. He studies her, really studies her. Her Light is still there but it’s faint. Rainfell is muted. Before, her power was like the sun— too bright to look straight on, but one you can gaze at it in the reflection of water. Now it’s like… the wick of a flame in the fog.

Terra has a faint memory of being in the dark and a star dissolving in front of him. Well, star isn’t a strong enough word for Aqua’s Light before the Guardian overpowered it and infected her with whatever this is. The Guardian wanted a sun, and the Guardian sucked all its hydrogen.

“We can help you,” he says, standing taller.

“How are you suggesting?”

“Maybe… we can remove the shroud—”

“Exorcism.”

“No—”

“I’m not broken.”

“No.” A nervous laugh escapes his mouth. “Of course not. You’re strong.”

“Don’t,” she snaps, snarling. She lowers her voice. “Call me strong. It isn’t fair.”

Terra nods, and blinks away from her, wishing his tears would stop. She’s right. Nothing, including his tears, is fair to her.

“Look at me,” she says, gentler. She walks forward, her body warping through the desk like she’s made of mist and there’s nothing solid in her way. “Everyone averts their eyes. But I hate it when you do.”

Terra runs reasons in his mind to be brave. For her. For her pain. For his punishment. His tears now dribble off his chin.

“Do you have any idea how much I wanted to hear your voice all that time?” she says, stepping up to his face. She compresses one claw against his throat, right under his jaw. “How quiet it was when I couldn’t?”

This isn’t what Terra had expected his future to be, if a miracle were to happen and they would be this close again. For hours that seemed like years and years that were millennia, Terra asked the stars if he could touch her one more time. Hand in hand, that was all he asked for.

“Yes. I do.” He sniffs. She presses harder and Terra grits his teeth from the pressure. “I couldn’t hear or see anything. All I did was dream memories. It was torture—”

“Torture,” she mumbles. She presses even harder that her claw stings. How is she this close to him when he perceives her so far? So close, their hips inches apart.

“Yes.” Terra swallows but can’t. “Aqua, all I had were daydreams of when I could see you and Ven again.”

Silence. She tucks her white hair behind her ear with her free hand, and it falls forward. The claw under his jaw shifts, and the artery at his throat throbs. She leans near, almost to kiss him, when she stops just before her lips grace his.

“You’re breathing,” she whispers.

His blood pumps. That’s what this is. She’s measuring his pulse, that he’s real under her touch.

She’s still Aqua. Just weird. Weird like a jewel unrefined, still in its geode. For years, Terra hasn’t felt, hasn’t touched, only yearned. The restraint he has with her this close dissolves from tears of what-ifs.

Brave, be brave. He removes her hand, clutches it to his heart, and leans toward her. Leans until their foreheads almost touch, until he takes her cheek and strokes it with his thumb. Testing their distance, looking into gold while gold looks into blue. Gold glances down to his lips.

He kisses her. Her lips are cold like she’s been in the snow, and it reminds him of bright mornings in white. Of dark, cozy nights by the fire. Of the wonder of seasons when he was young. Her lips are cold like steel when they’re soft against his, and he savors them when he hasn’t savored anything for twelve years. Her lips are no longer the way he remembers them, but they’re Aqua. And the tongue he needs is Aqua, and the sigh she gives him is her. When he lets go, she’s dazed, with his shirt balled in her fist and staring at the wall behind his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says, letting go of the arm wrapped around her waist. “I couldn’t help it.”

“You know,” she says, “I can’t feel much.”

He peels off the claw that’s nearly tearing a hole in his shirt, and rubs it between his hands, over her scales, trying to thaw her. “Do you feel this?”

Aqua watches him work. “Faintly.”

“I can make you tea.” Cinnamon would be best considering its strong flavor, but it’s in the pantry, mixed with plaster. “Just give me a day so I can buy some.”

She says nothing.

Terra exhales his anxiety, and brings her knuckles to his lips. The rubbing hasn’t helped. She’s still icy, and he wants to wrap her with his body, throw fleece over her face. “I can make you something now if you want. You’ll feel better.”

“Better,” she mutters, as if this offends her. She pulls her hand away. Her ice ghosts from his palms in waves, where his blood pumps warmth back with a tingling feeling. He can’t deal with the emptiness between them. When she turns away from him, he clasps her wrist. “Aqua—”

“I’m done with the room.” She dodges his hold. She makes him feel like his touch is accidental.

“Please…” He doesn’t say, Don’t slip from me again. What should he say? Stay? Can we go to your room?

He doesn't mention they were supposed to find a hiding place for themselves the night they were supposed to be Masters together. Do they even have the same dream anymore?

“There’s… a lot we need to talk about," he continues. "Between us. What happened in the Realm of Darkness. What happened the night before the Mark of Mastery?”

She doesn’t say anything. Not at first. “I thought about that night all the time.”

“I did, too.”

Again Aqua has no response.

“There’s no going back, is there?” he asks, afraid of the answer. “For us?”

She doesn’t confirm.

“The mirror should help you see.” She slips away. The void screams when she silently leaves the room, past the firelight’s barrier.

The hand mirror is as cold as her hands, unbending metal in his tight grip. He flips it over. In his reflection is himself—white hair, golden eyes, smirking in a way unnatural to him. Faded horns hover behind the crown of his head. The Guardian tucked away, a most loyal dog.

So Terra and this anti version of Aqua understand each other better than he realizes. Even with clothes on, they’re naked. She finds herself more powerful now than she was before, and can rely on her new strength. A comforting thought for her, not having to wait for others anymore.

The truth that matches hers? Terra was stronger when Darkness overtook him, too. And he hates himself for it. Hates himself for wishing Xehanort was alive and lingering in the back of his mind, trapped like Terra was, so Terra could ask what he should do about Aqua, and Xehanort the wise would have an answer.

He hates himself for being a dog in the first place. Isn’t the Guardian a literal manifestation of what Terra’s heart truly is? A Keybearer is supposed to be a source of Light—they need Light within their heart in order to summon a Keyblade. Maybe the Guardian is proof Terra shouldn’t wield one anymore. Maybe Earthshaker has been swallowed.

He throws the mirror into the cauldron and listens to the glass shatter. Maybe this little shred of her Darkness would make his potion more powerful.

Terra gathers blankets from wardrobes that are still intact, and layers them together to make a bed between the loveseat and the coffee table. When he’s done filling vials with potions, he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. There’s a crack too close to the chandelier. It could fall and crush him.

Terra exhales and suppresses the need to cry. He closes his eyes and rolls to his side, but the floor is too rock solid and his bones ache. He uses his arm as a pillow, and sighs. Given enough time, with the rain tapping on the windows and the fireplace alive with groans and cracks, Terra actually catches some sleep.

Until his eyes snap open in the middle of the night. The firelight is dead, and it’s black-dark. Rain still knocks on the windows. On his side, he’s looking at a shadow hiding under the table. The hair on his neck rises—whoever is there is staring back, and he expects a claw to smite and scratch him.

Lightning strikes—it illuminates no one looking back.

Behind him though is a predator, sitting on the loveseat, watching his back. Terra pretends he’s still asleep.

Ven apparently didn’t sleep much either. The next morning, Terra asks about Aqua. Ven says he woke up every hour and he noticed she spent the entire night not in her bed, but wandering the castle.

#terraqua #terraquaweek #kh terra #kh aqua #kh ventus #anti aqua #my fic

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melaschnie · 8 days ago

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hi, yes, still alive and all that!

having a full time job sadly is actually taking up so. much. time. why do we do that to ourselves again? we should rethink that. anyways, today i started the loudest silence by sydney langford because i realised that i only finished one (1) book since the beginning of the year and i simply won't have that. so instead of really sitting my ass down to continue the common bonds anthology (there's a kickstarter for a second anthology by the editors btw, if anyone wants to support the project!), i was looking through my tagged books on libby and saw that this one didn't have a waitlist - it was a no brainer from there on.

i'm two chapters in and it's been good so far, i'm really excited to see where it's going and i already know it will make me Feel Things. so far i definitely want to slap sense into some of the side characters and i fear that will continue do be a thing shdkfj

#i'll try to not vanish for (looks at calendar) another 2.5 years in terms of posts but don't quote me on that i'm out here adulting so hard #books #reading #bookblr #book aesthetic #nature #naturecore #forest #i genuinely don't know how to tag now that i don't use the studyblr tags anymore rip #sydney langford #the loudest silence #the loudest silence book #ereader #*mine

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anteroom-of-death · 1 year ago

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Teacher's Pet part 13

Synopsis: After exams, the two meet up. Is it a simple meeting? Or does it develop the game further...

A/n: smut, domestics and more, and oohh look the Doctor falls even darker down. And look at me, 3 fics in a week. We're so back baby. Thanks to you all. Now I go deal with my migraine!

As he stargazed on his walk home, the Doctor had a lot to assess. As far as little tests went, this was a success. Missy’s presence and nature was a good metric for physical responses to real danger. His little fawn passed with flying colors!

Her mind surged with chemicals in a way that was palpable. Her body flooded itself with just enough hormones to shrink itself to deferment. Her heart raced like a small prey animal being hunted for sport. It was a good sign.

He felt insane. What had he come to? Was this his plan to groom a companion he held in his past, before Rose? Or was this a new game for him to play?

He felt high. Was this how Missy always felt in her amoral schemes? No wonder she always pulling these acts…

It felt wonderful, in a sick way.

How much could he push this all and stay the Doctor?

He felt like he needed to go join her for that night cap she mentioned. Not that he could particularly get drunk of whatever liquor he would consume, but off her mere presence!

Anything physical would just be an added benefit…

He did go into her mind, she was planning on telling him about her profession. She just didn’t know the correct way. Or that he already knew. Her mind was a fascinating place to rest in.

He was going to hold her to his promise of not letting any boogie-men come for her, or chance at changing this body. Or take her off planet. He respected her for not wanting to risk her young-ish life.

He felt it on an egotistical level.

He reflected on those past companion he did take to bed. There had to be a common thread between them! What pushed a person from ‘traveling companion-familial bond’ to ‘romance and sensuality’? What traits was he drawn to? It had to be some link across regeneration.

He further anthologized and went to pathological levels.

He couldn’t find a true common thread.

This all drove him insane.

He looked to the stars. He could name all of them, and when he saved them and their planets. He could see everything so clearly.

Except this pattern.

Part of him wondered if past incarnations of Missy were correct…he had been spending too much time amongst the human race. He was acting and living and rewarding himself like one.

A God Walking With Apes.

He deserve to be punished as much as rewarded. He knew that much.

But alas, he was taking his reward. And his rest. Sweetly.

The Doctor was owed that much.

He went back to his office and busied himself with the starts of exams. He infinitely preferred the paper exam. Kept students more honest. Kept them more creative.

Oh, sweet irony.

Soon the days of exams came. And he promised (y/n) after a drink. At hers. They’d not seen much of each other with all the fuss and confusion of the time.

It was all arranged.

The wolf to devour the fawn. Again.

And he would.

He met her at the front door of her flat, with a bundle of flowers. And a note scrawled, ‘You survived.’ She took them and inhaled. Her smile widened. There was something hiding in it. Something that he’d like to uncover very much.

Despite the dedication he’d put into knowing her mind, the specialties of her neurology left him often scrambling for control. Maybe the human race in some swathes of the population developed a small evolutionary protection against higher beings with advanced psychic abilities, but of course viewed it as disability.

She welcomed him to her flat. It was a bit cramped, and recently looked like it had be purged and deep cleansed. She was obviously trying to make the best impression.

She took his coat and laid it on her chair as she ushered him to her small corner of kitchen.

As she went to the cupboard to get some glasses, she pointed to her fridge.

“I have wine, tea, vodka, arak, rum. A bit of Jameson left. I’m not an alcoholic, I swear.” She stopped listing.

“I’ll take the Jameson.” He figured the whiskey would be a good choice. Matched his current body.

“Yeah, cool.” She got a wine glass out and an Ikea tumbler from her cupboards. After she poured the wine and got out the Jameson.

“Neat or on the rocks?” She called over.

“Neat.”

“Cool, cool.” She replied, echoing the previous reply…

She also got a vase and poured in some water and jammed the flowers in. It was placed on the table.

“Thanks!” She smiled.

She took a large sip of her nearly-full glass.

“Okay, so, first things first. I’m sorry…yeah. I am…uh…a sex worker. I work in the local brothel. I get tested every three weeks. I’m clean. Yeah, no needs to worry for you. If you can or can’t get diseases. I don’t know.” She confessed and looked down, rubbing the stem of her glass with her thumb and index finger.

“Next, I think…I’m actually in love with you?” She said. “I’m not going to quit the job yet. I need money, and…things are getting so pricey these days…it’s easy-ish money. It allows me flexibility for school. Yeah.” She nodded her head some more. Unable to make eye-contact.

“Lastly, I’m fine with the everything.” She flapped a hand out and pointed broadly. “Yeah, I never thought life…would go this way…aliens are real. I’m with one romantically. And I can work on the incredulity bit. I’m very flexible…yeah…” She nodded her head.

Now this was interesting! A declaration of love and her baring her soul.

He already knew, but opted out of telling her. It would clash with his byline.

Honesty created more secrets…

He cradled her hand in his. “It’s all well and good. We all have our lives. I travel in space and time, tinkering. You, escorting.”

She flushed deeply, he could feel her pulse racing through his hand.

Her face went through an array of emotions before settling on confusion and hope.

Very good.

“I was so worried, what with the stigma, especially after Missy and you talked about your species.” Her other hand curled onto her chest over her heart. “Google isn’t exactly awash with…you know…advice. And I don’t have particularly a group of girlfriends to ask anymore….mnnn.” She smacked her lips together and bit a small piece of dry, scabbed over skin off. It let out the smallest price of blood.

“I’ve put you in an impossible situation.”

She pursed her lips together and sucked in a bit of air. “Yes, you have.” She ended it with a small laugh.

“Just don’t get me killed like the others…” She pleaded in a serious tone.

“Yes, I’ll try.”

She smiled.

“Any plans for the summer?” She did a one shouldered-shrug.

“Probably London for UNIT. Get Nardole to guard the mad lady. I was thinking of taking my TARDIS. But she has a mind of her own. She might drag me off planet…if you want, when you want. I’ll call a car. I’ll hold myself to that promise for you.” He levied.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I miss Petronella.” She blinked.

“Don’t…not go off planet for me. I’ll be good here. Just work and all. Preparing for next term…” She smiled and offered the metaphorical olive branch. “You are from there.” She pointed skyward. “It’d be cruel of me to tie you down.”

“I’m semi-retired.” He reassured her. Then he shifted the frame. “And you? What about you? You deserve a bit of a trip. Where could you go off. The kids love Ibiza! I could use some of that useless money I’ve been-“ He was cut off.

“No, don’t. That makes things between us…tricky. Trickier than now.” She took her free hand and placed it on top of the hand that kept her other hand clasped. “You’re my boyfriend. Question mark. Not my sugar daddy. I’d get a sugar daddy if I wanted one.”

“I have no doubt.”

“Yeah.” The singular word came out of her mouth with an air of authority and behest. Her brows shot up, upper lip on a curve.

“Are you going to the big end-of-terms party that the student union is hosting?” The Doctor probed. “I’ve been asked to play guitar!”

“No, I got to work. I didn’t take that shift week before last. I’m…behind on my finances. I’ve taken up a longer shift next week.” She untangled their hands and pointed at a cork board across the way over her desk. “Bills don’t stop because my boyfriend takes me to London.” She scratched her brow with her ring finger.

“That dress and those shoes were…out of budget.” She rested her chin on her now propped-up palms.

She was always in motion even when she wasn’t.

He felt that on a deeper level.

How alike they has been in regards to that! Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was the universe giving him a gift as his reward for countless times saved.

He felt himself believe.

“I do want to hear you play guitar.” She postured and let out a little hitched huff of air.

“Want me to whip up something? Do you want to go out? I can order takeaway too. I should have planned this drink better.” She took a large sip of her wine. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to…entertaining people at home.”

Her eyes got very large, “I think outside of the landlady once, this is the first time anyone’s been here besides me since I moved in…wow.” She fluttered her lashes in a quick, palpable realization.

“I have an air fryer!” She bragged. “Horrible noises, but it makes good food.” She enticed.

“I once made a silent pen for Ibn Rushd. He hated the noise of all writing tools he had. Your air fryer should be a piece of cake!” He got up and started towards it.

“Wait until dinners done.” She said opening up some frozen bags and dumping them in.

She also got out a cast-iron skillet, and began making something in there, delicate chopping and spicing.

“Hey, could you like…heat up the pitas, they’re in the bread box. I usually just toss them in the oven for 5 minutes both sides.”

The Doctor did one better. He used a heating system he pulled from his jacket.

“I can help serve.” He offered.

“Plates are…there.” She pointed as she pulled out the air fryer drawer and tossed it in the pan.

He set the perfect table, all arranged around the flowers he gave her.

He had repeatedly told many before her that he didn’t do domestic. Alas, he was here playing house, assisting in the dinner. Setting the table…

She unceremoniously dumped out.

“I’m no chef. But it’ll taste good. And sustain life.”

“All that matters!” He grinned up at her.

It was a great meal, the Doctor mused. Very good measure of spices and ingredients.

Clean up was her (also unceremoniously…) dumping them in the sink.

“So, dear Professor Doctor. How else will we celebrate.” She sat down in a comfy, squashed chair and tapped beside her on the small chair that faced her. He followed.

“Well, ideas!” He swirled his hands around.

“Ideas.” He mused.

A very human idea came.

He sprung up and kissed her on her neck. He grasped her waist and started to drag her against the side of the chair.

“A good idea?” He pulled back.

“Doctor’s orders.” She quipped as her heart accelerated and she looked at him, her (insert your eye color here, dear reader.) shining with eagerness.

She started trying to rip off his clothes. Kissing his nose and trying to motion both of them to the bed at the other side of the flat.

The mess of limbs found themselves there as they removed clothes and shifted over to the bed.

The tactile nature of this was how he learned that this was the first time she’d had anyone in this particular bed. This was special. It was her sacred space. Her safe place to sleep.

This felt delicious and perverted. He was furthering this all. However, this choice was all her idea. No interference on his part.

She’d chosen him…

She laid herself down for him. She was propped on her elbows and leaned her torso such. Her mind was racing.

He jumped onto the bed. She jumped up.

“Wait.” She went to a bag and got a bottle of lube out. She jumped back on the bed. She squeezed some out onto his shaft and massaged it down to base. She place a small bit in the palm of her hand and slicked it in her folds. She slid back under him and banged the bottle onto her bedside table. Amongst the clutter and the giant water bottle.

“I’m ready, fuck me.” She begged. “Fuck me, please.”

He entered her. His tip surged and reached her cervix. Kissing her forehead as he did the first big thrust, he grasped at her wrists and palms.

She slid herself further down, allowing him to get a better angle. Letting him go deeper. Further. Harder. She moved her arms to a place he could grasp them better.

“Such a good pet.” He grunted. “You’re so good to me, my fawn.” He praised. She wrapped her legs around his ass and thighs as response.

“Th-th-thank you.” She let out.

He hid his smile in a kiss in her hair. He snuck his face down and grazed her jaw with his teeth as he continued to give her firm, hard, quick thrusts. Their stomachs brushing against each other, he gave her breast a grab and teased her nipple with tongue and teeth.

She let out a moan and curled her lips over her tongue and her eyes reactively shut tightly. After a few moments her eyes fluttered open, lashes brushed against lids.

She used her now-free hands and grabbed his face and the waves of his hair. She brought her face up and kissed his face and bit his neck. Suckling gently before making her way back up. She placed one final kiss and let herself go limp and him to take over.

And that he did!

He arched his back down as her eyes rolled back into her skull. The pace picked up and her arms found themselves naturally above her head.

He took the opportunity to bind them in his hands and wrapped his pinkies around her bed frame to keep them both steady.

He felt his cock being worked by the muscles of her walls. Her stomach arched up and over as she worked him with her delicate, well-toned pelvic muscles.

“I’m asking your permission.” The Doctor found himself saying, not entirely of his own volition. “May I fuck you harder? Show you what this old body can do…as an alien?”

She nodded her head and swallowed. She looked a tad unsure and confused. “Sure. Yeah?” He was trying so hard to not enter her mind. Just let her be for once. Enjoy the moment unbridled. But this opportunity was too good not to take…

He saw the verbal cue pool out of her mouth and he entered her mind, flooding it with an overproduction of those precious chemicals: dopamine, oxytocin, adrenalin, endorphins. The entire lot of them…

He kicked his body into high gear. Playing her body with his cock and lips. Brushing, kissing, biting, claiming. He kept her wrists in the manacles that was his hands.

Fucking her so deeply and making her now somewhat-dependent on him.

How could she not become dependent on him now? She was radiating these precious hormones and chemicals that pudding-brained apes needed.

His little fawn, safe by his side. Now his for all eternity. Even if she would never by any volunteer-ship leave Earth. Or risk her life.

Good!

Perfect. More than perfect. This one will never die by his blooded hands.

He could continue moments like these until her heart stopped.

More than good! Perfect!

She was quickly cumming underneath him, her legs still wrapped around him. Her breathing was becoming very shallow and her moans had turned to grunts and groans. Like the animal she was, in rut. Maddened by hormones and thrashing to get him deeper in.

And how could he not be obliged?

He let her have it and when he finally came she started crying.

He felt a stab of regret. Did he go too far?

The Doctor let go of her hands and she immediately grasped in for a hug as he pulled his now-flacid cock out of her cunt.

“No need to cry…” He smiled, kissing her hair. “You did so good for me.” He repeated that line a few times until she became more lucid and he retreated from her mind.

“What was that?” She asked in earnest.

He lied, “I kicked my body into high gear. Like a rabbit wand. Only better.” He would never come clean about his mind games. Not now, especially now…

“I’ve been going easy on you. You’re so…breakable.” He ruffled her hair. “The whole lot of you.” He clarified. “I could go harder, but I won’t. I know the limits.”

He did. And yet he was crossing them even more.

He once asked Clara if he was a good man. He felt like he was at one point, even an excellent man. But now, not so much.

But did it matter?

His little fawn was soaked in sweat and radiant in her hormonal flush. Glowing from her fresh fuck.

Or did they make love? He wondered.

Was it love? Obsession? Or both?

Maybe it was both, on both accounts. From both ways.

He laid his naked body next to hers and she instinctively folded herself into his arms. She grabbed his arms in return and started tracing little patterns on the Doctor’s arms.

She let out a small hiccup.

“Obviously, we can’t do that all the time. But it was great. Yeah?” She concluded.

“Anything you want…” He murmured into the crook of her neck. He planted a small breathy kiss on it.

She drifted off to sleep, still grasping him in their cuddle.

Perfect is as perfect does.

And the Doctor felt he did perfect.

#personal #doctor who #12th doctor #12th doctor x reader #12th doctor x you #you x 12th doctor #reader x 12th doctor #self insert #self indulgent #fall from grace #but make it good #me need a lobo #doctor who fanfiction #peter capaldi

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specialagentartemis · 5 days ago

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Aro Week may be over, but Common Bonds 2 still has two weeks to meet its Kickstarter goal. An anthology of original aromantic sci-fi and fantasy - that is also open to submissions! So, if any writers of aro fiction have an idea they want to see published in an aro anthology, this is a great opportunity.

#please submit sci-fi. there were only two sci-fi stories in Common Bonds 1 and the rest were fantasy #fantasy is great but I'm a sci-fi fan at heart #Common Bonds #aromantic

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aroaessidhe · 12 days ago

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a couple arospec awareness week links!

book sales:

Cedar McCloud's Eternal Library books are on sale

In The Jaws Of An Oak is on sale

Stake Sauce & Chameleon Moon are 50% off

May Barros' short stories are 50% off

Six of Claudie Arseneault's books are on sale

Support the Common Bonds 2 (aromantic anthology) kickstarter! Early bird prices this week

A post from lavendersbook on arospec representation and especially this blog post which I recommend reading

#aro week #arospec awareness week #aro week 2025 #aromantic

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zahri-melitor · 19 days ago

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DC Power 2024: Finally sat down to read this because I’d been holding off on it due to the Far Sector epilogue.

I’m going to look at writers again too, as a casual comparison to the seasonal anthologies. My first impression is that there was more variation in story length than some of the other anthologies: on top of a 13 page epilogue, the anthology had a mix 8 page and 10 page stories, while it’s been standardising to 10 page pitches for the seasonals.

Enduring Farewells (N.K. Jemisin): In terms of the story, this was a lovely little cap on the run. Loved the surprise party, the baking discussion, and Jo and John getting to bond a bit.

Looks like they’re popping it into the deluxe trade, which makes sense – might as well keep all the parts together. (This is a thing I’m seeing DC collections do more often when a story is spread through various places, and they should be applauded for it and encouraged to continue: the Tim Drake: Robin trades have the entire Meghan Fitzwilliam storyline)

N.K. Jemisin is a multi-Hugo, Nebula and Locus winning novelist who was specifically recruited to do Far Sector. I think her translation between formats has been pretty solid.

The Spice of Life (Cheryl Lynn Eaton): this is part of Pierce family arc that’s been going on for a bit leading into the current Black Lightning run, where Anissa’s having issues with her powers. I haven’t actually clean read the storyline through, but it’s been ticking along in various anthologies since 2021 or so? Look, this is definitely one of those stories where I felt like a complete cultural outsider lacking a chunk of context, and the story is too slight to pick it up. Which is fine, this anthology is absolutely not aimed at me; I just wonder if the cohort for who it is aimed at find it compelling or heavy handed.

Cheryl Lynn Eaton has been getting more Marvel work than DC, but is largely getting published in Voices/Power stuff. She did get a Black Panther event tie-in mini last year that seems to have got solid reviews.

Pit Stop (Lamar Giles): I honestly can’t believe that we’re getting Bloodwynd stories in the 21st century, let alone LEGACY BLOODWYND stories, but then I’ve never actually got my head around and read the entire situation back in the 90s Justice League. My understanding of what was going on was limited to approximately “this is something involving Martian Manhunter identities, and I know it’s complicated”. I’m happy for all the Bloodwynd fans out there that they got new material.

Lamar Giles’ one other comics work is the Static teen graphic novel for DC. As is common for people on that pathway, he has a substantial bibliography of YA novels over the last decade.

Pure Blackness (John Ridley): Ridley’s annual contribution to this title was an Earth-2 Val-Zod story. It was a very ‘let’s tell the origin story’ tale. It felt very much exactly like how he likes to tell a story. I don’t have a lot to say about it, really? Feels a bit like a swipe at Absolute Superman, except it was written probably before the pitches for that were even delivered.

Ridley of course has extensive comics credits with DC and multiple ongoings, among his other achievements.

Lost at Sea (Deron Bennett): okay this was a fun piece of horror. I am meaning to get to more Aqua stuff, and I don’t fully understand the emotions between Black Manta and Jackson, but I will say, given Black Manta’s most famous moments, him being essentially framed for killing kids clearly has some schadenfreude to it, particularly when he got OUTRAGED that someone would to that to him. I WONDER WHY PEOPLE MIGHT TRY THAT, BLACK MANTA. I am completely unaware of how accepting Manta is towards Jackson’s sexuality but this was positing that he’s supportive? Ish? Hmmmm.

Deron Bennett is a DC letterer (he’s done a lot of work for the Bat office since Rebirth, particularly on Batman, Batwoman, Green Arrow and Batgirl) and this is his first work as a writer. I think it was a very respectable opening story. He got to team up with Denys Cowan, which certainly helped make the story look good.

The Session (Shawn Martinbrough): I was all set to add this to my collection of ‘DC psychologists you should be using in stories as superhero psychs’ except it rapidly entered the ‘DC psychologists are the enemy, again’ zone. That aside, love every time people have Crispus Allen and Renee Montoya in stories together. Obviously this sent in the past, probably pre-Flashpoint, as this is incredibly Allen’s first appearance since 2011. Which. WHAT?

Shawn Martinbrough has a three decade career in comics, however the majority of his work has been over in the art side. His other DC writing credits are on Red Hood and Red Hood: The Hill.

The Natural Order (Alitha Martinez): This was a cute Nubia story! Pity about Mxy being in it but I’m just generally not a fan of 5th dimension imps at any time.

This is Alitha’s first story as a writer with DC, however she’s worked as a penciller and inker on a number of projects, most notably on the earlier Nubia minis, so she’s certainly across the character.

Jump Shots & Loose Watts (Jarrett Williams):this was a promotional story for Speed Force, essentially. As such, it had the exact same sort of tone as Speed Force, and on top of that had the perky sort of ‘you, marginalised kid I am trying to relate to, you’re the REAL hero not superheroes!’ tone that feels somewhat off base in this anthology, as given the price point I suspect it’s unlikely to end up in the hands of many marginalised Black teens and kids.

Jarrett Williams, on top of writing Speed Force, has an substantial set of credits writing cartoon tie-in comics (there’s a lot of Rick and Morty in particular). The similar tone is noticeable.

Fair Play (Greg Burnham): it was nice to see a title actually starring Michael Holt for a change, as he’s been very relegated to a ‘call in tech support’ character for a while now.

Greg Burnham has a couple of other anthology credits with DC (one Halloween, one with Milestone Initiative), and a handful of indie comics titles.

The Light That Shines (Brandon Thomas): Duke goes hopping in time and talks to his older self to get a perk up. It’s apparently related to an earlier story Thomas wrote in Batman Black & White.

Brandon Thomas, along with Bryan Hill, are DC’s two major Duke writers since Scott Snyder stepped back from writing mainline stories. His work for DC also includes a lot of Jackson Hyde’s stories and the current Black Lightning run.

On balance, looking at this list of ten writers, I would say there are legitimately two who qualify for the tagline of “all star cast” (Jemisin and Ridley), plus Thomas having substantial writing credits with DC and Williams having a current mini when this came out. I’m delighted to see that they gave writing opportunities to three of their long term artists (Bennett, Martinbrough and Martinez). A lot of this list looks more like ‘offered opportunities’ rather than open to brand new pitches. I’d say the experience level is on average slightly higher than comparable seasonal anthologies.

DC Power: Rise of the Power Company (2025): I think it’s worth noting that this is a substantially shorter anthology this year compared to 2023 or 2024. 2023 had 56 pages of story and 2024 had 95 pages. 2025’s entry only manages 40 pages, however the one particularly notable thing about those 40 is that 3 of the 4 stories feel prepped or related to current or solicited storylines. As such, it feels less like an annual celebration anthology and more like an event anthology.

The writing team is Brandon Thomas, Zipporah Smith, John Jennings and Vita Ayala. It’s Jennings’ first DC story, but Smith has been turning her hand to a diverse range of characters in shorts, and Thomas and Ayala have substantial credits.

Company Man (Brandon Thomas): This is just set up for future Black Lightning and Power Company storylines, surely? If you’re reading either of those, you should probably be dipping into this to check on the framing happening. It would probably be a better story if it wasn’t clearly doing a lot of heavy lifting to move pawns into place.

Ring of Power (Zipporah Smith): Mari gets to team up with EVERYONE, it feels like. Can’t escape being a supporting character, but wow do people like using her to showcase others. This is a nice check in on what’s happening with Malik White.

Unfinished Business (John Jennings): Jo Mullein and Vic doing stuff with the new Justice League satellite. Like all of the current Justice League-entangled stories, I’m sort of waiting to find out if we do have an overarching plot here or if it’s just setting vibes that everyone is being asked to use. It’s cute but fairly insubstantial.

Dynamic Duo (Vita Ayala): look, I’ll be honest; I haven’t been particularly impressed with Ayala’s voices and characterisation when writing various Bat characters. I don’t mind the Duke voice here too much (though it’s quite perky for Duke), but it felt Wow Are We Black Bat Characters, Have You Noticed We Are Both Black? Which, firstly, please have someone finally let Duke and Luke actually meet on page, both of them clearly want to get to know the other. Also it felt like a lot of heavy handed commentary on how partitioned off Ridley’s been keeping Jace Fox.

#z canon read throughs #recent reads #newish comics

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