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centuryberry · 1 month ago

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Flourish AU

Me, looking back at the Replanted AU after posting the recent Unpaid Babysitting update: Yishan needed better parents. Also, I wish I could incorporate Shanzha and RinRin into the Sundown Era AU without more dimension shenanigans.

Me:

Me: Wait -

And so, this AU came to be. Say hello to Iceflower's Son!Yishan, everyone. He's here to bring Shanzha and RinRin into the Sundown Era AU, grow up better than he could've been, create a myth or two, and - most importantly - father Yue, Louhou, and Jidu so all four Celestial Primates can have grandbabies to spoil.

Background: The Land of Eternal Snow still doesn't exist in the Sundown Era AU. Shanzha and RinRin are also nowhere in China during the Rebellion against Heaven. Why? Because they're in Goryeo (Korea) and Nippon (Japan), respectively, making a name for themselves. After inheriting the powers of the Celestial Primates and shaking up their respective pantheons, they headed over to China to retire together since one of their own ascended as Jade Emperor.

In one another life, Yishan was the firstborn son of a prestigious clan who grew up viewing almost everyone as his enemy. In this one, he was the son of legends posing as common herbalists living in the mountains.

What does a more well adjusted and untraumatized child Yishan look like? Well, he has more friends growing up. And when I mean friends, I mean animals. He likes animals more than people. He also has a habit of bringing home wounded animals for Shanzha to treat. (He begs to keep them every time but his moms keep telling him no.) He’s also incurably blunt and judgy - even to his mothers.

Shanzha makes sure to train her son in healing and martial arts while RinRin teaches him how to socialize and act. These are very necessary lessons since Yishan tends to piss off a lot of people just by being himself.

(Despite being raised by Shanzha and RinRin, there are some things about Yishan that stays the same lmao.)

Yishan ends up being a nerd over medicine and poisons. As for his social skills, he technically knows what to do in theory but doesn’t bother to extend the effort towards those he considers stupid.

As a late teen, Yishan became a traveling doctor so he could leave the nest and explore the world.

While Yishan heals people and battles against stupidity (and make more animal friends), he gains a reputation for being an amazing healer with the worst bedside manner. He also beat up a couple of powerful yaoguai because either 1) they were in the way of a key ingredient of a medical breakthrough or 2) he pissed them off first.

During his travels, Yishan meets and makes his first non-animal friend: a soldier named Mensheng. He turns down the offer to serve the soldier’s Ivory Lady and continues his journey.

Eventually, Yishan is kidnapped invited to the Celestial Realm by some very pushy attendants (one of whom he gives a nasty black eye) so he could become Laozi’s new apprentice.

Despite Yishan kicking and screaming through the entire process, he ends up being Laozi’s favorite. The man wouldn’t let him go.

Yishan frequently conspires with Laozi’s Bull to break out. They fail every time. The only reason why Yishan wasn’t as successful in leaving was because of the cool shiny new medicinal plants Laozi kept waving in front of his face.

Then, Yishan was tasked to assist Laozi in checking up on the health of the Princess of the Celestial Realm and acting ruler of Flower Fruit Mountain.

"Princess?" All of you are probably asking. Yup, Wukong and Macaque did end up having one (1) kid and it's Sangshen. Because of an attempted poisoning incident, she came out weak and sickly. Sangshen is adored by her parents but is seen as a disappointment to the Celestial Court (since she's female, weak, and takes after Macaque), so she prefers to stay in FFM.

Still, because of her poor health, Wukong would frequently send Laozi down to check up on her. At this point, Laozi spends more of his time at FFM than in the Celestial Realm. He even has his own room and lab there.

Laozi's plan was to drop Yishan off to FFM and take over in keeping tabs on Sangshen's health.

When Yishan first laid eyes on Sangshen, he was a complete goner. It was love at first sight. As for Sangshen, she fell slower, but no less harder. Yishan was so considerate and charming and devoted that she couldn't help but develop feelings. (Everyone else who knows him: Are we talking about the same Yishan?!?!)

Yishan being Yishan beings ridiculously rare and hard-to-obtain stuff to shower Sangshen with. With his attention (and daily offering of super rare medicine), her health improves by leagues.

Sangshen eventually breaks it to Yishan that he probably shouldn't be courting her since her parents would kill him where he stands if they caught wind of this. Her parents established pretty early that they wouldn't let anyone marry her unless they lasted 15 min in a battle against both of them.

Instead of being deterred, Yishan takes this challenge and asks for some PTO to visit Shanzha and RinRin.

Yishan: Hey moms, how do I stay alive in a spar against the Emperor and Empress of the Universe? Shanzha: What RinRin: What happened to "hi"? Also, wtf Yishan: I'm in love and it's the only way I can get permission to marry her

*Cue intense training montage*

After training his tail off, Yishan presents himself to the Emperor and Empress as a suitor for their daughter's hand. They are less than pleased and put him through the wringer for daring to ask. They beat him to the ground.

And yet, Yishan lasts for 30 minutes. So, after recovering, Yishan happily accepts the begrudging permission of his future in-laws and heads down to FFM to tell Sangshen the good news.

FFM: You mad bastard, you actually did it. Yishan: Obviously. If I didn't, Sangshen would cry and that's unforgivable.

Yishan wasted no time in proposing and Sangshen wasted no time in accepting. A wedding was then arranged in the Celestial Realm and Yishan's mothers were invited. Shanzha and RinRin come, of course.

An official freaks out at seeing Shanzha since he recognizes her as the Godslayer who wiped out the entire court of Korean Primordial Gods.

Another official flips his lid when he recognizes RinRin as the Trickster who swindled him during his time abroad in Japan.

When Shanzha and RinRin's identities as Celestial Primates come to light, the entire Celestial Court is filled with dread. Oh no, there's FOUR of them now.

Shanzha and RinRin get along with Wukong and Macaque like a house on fire. They trade unhinged stories of their youth and make plans to hang out. Shanzha jokingly offers to take out any Celestial who annoys Wukong too much. Wukong takes this offer very seriously, making many of his ministers sweat.

Yishan and Sangshen get married and spend many years of wedded bliss before Sangshen announces that she's pregnant.

Say hello to Yue~

This cutie pie made Wukong cry. At first, he was a little disappointed to see that she took mostly after Yishan's side of the family. Then, she sneezed and lo and behold, six ears popped out. Yishan had to fight with his father-in-law to get his daughter back.

Wukong wasn't any better when Louhou and Jidu were born. He might've been reluctant to be a father, but he took to being a grandfather like a duck to water.

Shadowpeach would squabble with Iceflower for grandbaby time. In the end, Iceflower simply moved into the Celestial Realm so all of them could have grandbaby time.

Extra Facts about Iceflower:

Shanzha used to be a devotee of the Primordial Korean gods. An event shattered her faith and took away everything she's ever cared about. Eyes opened to their cruelty, Shanzha started her quest in wiping them all out. Shanzha trained under the Long-Armed Gibbon as the Celestial Primate was sympathetic to her circumstances. She's very much inspired by Kratos as she was very unhinged during this period of life.

RinRin, on the other hand, was a pet monkey of a daughter of a samurai who evolved into a yokai after a tragedy. She sowed discord as a shapeshifter until she was killed by an angry god. The Red Buttocked Baboon found her in the Japanese Underworld and found her amusing enough to be his successor. RinRin then proceeded to cheat death, harass Japanese deities, and become a Loki-like figure.

Shanzha, born as “Nari” (Lily), renamed herself after a Chinese Hawthorn fruit usually used for medicine solely to outsmart a god who could cut a life short by calling out their name three times. The new name kept the god guessing long enough for her to shoot them down. Since it helped her keep her life, she ended up keeping the name.

Since RinRin had many names and faces during her time as a trickster spirit/deity, she was much more attached to her true name. Fun fact: Her name means “dignified bell” in Japanese.

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middlingmay · 6 months ago

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Horse Trainer!Gale x Veteran!Bucky AU

Part one of my headcanons for this AU is here!

Some warnings to get us started: slight mention of alcohol abuse, references to gun violence, war, death, PTSD and a car accident.

Something bright and cheery for your Wednesday, eh? I promise it gets cute later down the line, just not today! Today we mean business. So here we go!

Bucky couldn’t remember wanting to be anything other than a pilot when he grew up.

His ma used to draw all kinds of aircraft: jets, airliners, gliders, helicopters, even a seaplane once. John would tuck himself into her side and watch, mouth open and fascinated as she drew smooth confident lines.

She explained to him why the nose was this shape, and how the wings and tail needed to be in balance, why the placement and size of the engines mattered. She went to school for it, before he and his sisters came along. Well, before his dad came along, really.

He didn’t take much of it in, he'd be ashamed to realise later, but he did absorb her obsession with aviation. Just not for the design. He would however, try to encourage her to go back to school to finish her degree.

Mama Egan took him to his first air show when he was eight, and she had to scruff him by the neck to stop him from taking off like a shot towards the real, live WWII B-17.

Instead, he thrashed at the end of her hand, jumping around like an eel as she walked him towards it anyway, and accepted the boost inside once his ma had convinced the pilot to let John take a peek inside.

He never looked back.

He enlists when he’s eighteen, and rockets up the ranks quickly. By the time he becomes Major - and a very young Major - the new recruits look at him like he’s some kind of maverick, some kind of legend.

The higher-ups see the natural born leader he is, and the boys in his squadron know him as brave, quick thinking, and with instincts that couldn’t have possibly all come from training. He could read situations in the air like most of them read books. When John Egan had a feeling, or ordered you to do something out of the blue, you did not ask questions.

Although he joined up out of pure enthusiasm and desperation to be a pilot, he quickly sees his time in the air force as an opportunity to help people. But, almost as quickly, he realises that he and the Brass have different views on how to go about that.

He dislikes combat missions the most. Sometimes it’s pretty black and white, and John can feel pride when he sees enemy targets crumble into dust. Or when he’s lost one of his men and he feels a thrum of vengeance he knows he shouldn’t and tries to suppress but sometimes can’t quite help on the darker nights.

But mostly he learns how devastating combat missions are. He much prefers supply drops and recovery missions, but these are so few and far between, that he gives up that privilege to those in his squadron to help keep up their morale. Their morale was his responsibility, after all.

John takes to drinking, just a little bit. Never enough to affect his work. But on days when he can’t shake the anger or the gloom, the glow of whisky helps him hide it better.

Somewhere along the line, his passion burns out and he starts to want out. He’s still one of their best pilots, still a role model for all the pilots, navigators and serving men and women on base - that is to stay, he still acts the part. He signs up for his second eight-year contract, but two years into it, he can’t stomach the thought of the remaining six.

He admits as much on a tearful phone call to his ma, who promises him he doesn’t owe anyone anything, and if he needs to he better get his ass into that doctor’s office or she’ll come and drag him by the ear and drop him at the counsellor’s door herself.

“Don’t you go doing anything stupid, now, John. I didn’t raise a fool.”

And John doesn't. Do anything stupid, that is. But someone does.

Because the mission fucks up, and fucks up in a big way.

It's a recovery mission his squadron all but forces him on, all of them insisting it's his turn, and what did he do to deserve those guys and dolls, huh?

But Ken hadn’t given him the run down of his plane, because he’s taken some PTO, and his replacement ground crew chief was nowhere to be found. And from then on, John just has a bad feeling about the whole thing.

Afterwards, he can't ever remember much, but what it boils down to is two bullets in his shoulder, a dead co-pilot, a murdered political attaché left behind on enemy ground, and a package, called Robert ‘Rosie’ Rosenthal, safe back on American soil. And his superiors patting him on his good shoulder, telling him what a good job he did.

A good fucking job. Like some green kid hadn’t died choking on his own blood, staring at Bucky like he could do something. And a fella in his late 50s, who’d been harping on about his first grandkid, was never going to meet him because his body was never going to make it home.

So, when the doc tells him the physio isn’t working and his mobility is compromised, he barely feels a thing.

Major John Egan. Honourably discharged at twenty-eight.

He’s been warned he might feel a little lost at home. But no one warns him that he’ll mistake a framed photo of his old man as that dead attaché and it would start talking to him: “You left me behind. Who’s going to teach my grandkid ball, now?”

No one tells him he’ll scare the life out of his ma coming home from ladies' brunch, to see John, who’s been standing there God knows how long, still heaving in ragged breaths surrounded by smashed glass with blood running down the hand that holds a sizeable shard of it.

So he agrees to therapy.

It doesn’t go well. Crank sets him up with a friend of his experienced in medically discharged vets, but Bucky can’t disassociate them from the military. They get all mushed up as part of the problem in his head, so he stops going and avoids Cranks calls for a while.

And the dreams get worse. And the sleepwalking hits him like a freight train, although it only happens once. Once is enough.

He ends up on a back road. It’s the only reason, Bucky thinks, he didn’t die. He veers between the grassy verge and the road. It’s dark and he’s wearing all black, and the car doesn’t see him before it’s too late. They weren’t going too fast, but they clip him all the same and he wakes up in a hospital.

And the docs have evidently spoken to his ma, because whilst they’re treating his physical wounds, someone comes for a psyche eval and he gets a stern warning that either he gets proper counselling voluntarily, or he’ll legally be forced to. A much less pleasant experience.

And he meets the driver who clipped him. A shorter guy called Curt who walks in rubbing the back of his neck and not quite able to look John in the eye until he says, “Irish, huh? That how you didn’t hit the bullseye? Too short to see over the steering wheel?”

Curt cackles and the two of them talk easy after that.

In fact, John finds it easier to talk to Curt than anyone else since he left the air force. He tells Curt about the disillusionment of it all, the anger, the dreams, all of it. And Curt understands because he used to be in the medical corps and he knows there are things you can’t unsee. Some things a man just can’t reckon with himself.

But, Curt also tells him about the horse ranch he goes to, that helped him when no shrink or medication could.

Cleven Ranch he calls it, and tells John that when he’s up and ready, he’ll take him there.

#clegan #buck x bucky #horse trainer!gale #veteran!john #mota au #alternative universe #headcanon #john egan #gale cleven #curtis biddick

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anonymousewrites · 17 days ago

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A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 4) Epilogue

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Epilogue: Brave Heart and Clever Brain

Summary: It's time for the rest of (Y/N)'s life to begin.

Mouse Note: And it's a wrap for A Study of the Heart and Brain. Wow. I can't believe so many years of this story have already gone by! Purple, Sherlock, and John have been so close to my heart for so long that it's sad to say goodbye, but I'm happy to say that they have happy lives in front of them. Thank you so much for all the support you've given to me over the years! I'll miss you all and hope to see you back for future projects! Thank you! This has been an amazing experience!

“John’s calling,” said (Y/N) as they put a new skull on the mantle of the rebuilt 221B. It had taken time and effort (and money they blackmailed Mycroft into getting), but the flat was back. Their home was back.

“I hate answering calls,” said Sherlock.

“I’m going to answer it,” said (Y/N). They pressed the accept button. “Hello, John.”

“Sherlock, (Y/N),” said John. “I think you better get round here.”

Sherlock and (Y/N) exchanged a look.

John held the disc that read “MISS YOU” on the top. Solemnly, he put it into the DVD player, and the TV turned on.

Mary’s face greeted them once more. She smiled. “P.S,” she said.

It was the next part of her original message. Sherlock, John, and (Y/N) leaned forward.

“I know you three,” said Mary. “And if I’m gone, I know what you could become. Because I know who you really are. A junkie who solves crimes to get high. The doctor who never came home from the war. And the teenager who is too smart for their own good. Will you listen to me? Who you really are, it doesn’t matter. It’s all about the legend, the stories, the adventures. There is a last refuge for the desperate, the unloved, the persecuted. There is a final court of appeal for everyone. When life gets too strange, too impossible, too frightening, there is always one last hope. When all else fails, there are three people sitting, arguing in a scruffy flat, like they’ve always been there and they always will. The best and wisest people I have ever known, my Baker Street family, Sherlock Holmes, (Y/N) Holmes, and Dr. Watson.”

(Y/N) smiled.

“Congratulations!” cheered Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and John. Rosie babbled in John’s arms. Mycroft lifted his drink but didn’t cheer.

(Y/N) grinned and proudly held up the signed adoption papers. They had already been part of the Holmes family for years, but this just made it even more official.

“That’s my kid!” said Sherlock, smiling ear-to-ear.

He hugged (Y/N) tightly, and they hugged him back. Their home was whole once more. 221B was rebuilt. John was back. Even Eurus had started to smile when playing, and Mr. and Mrs. Holmes had gotten to hear her play with Sherlock and (Y/N).

They were going to be okay. They were okay. The Holmes family was together.

A knock at the door. (Y/N) turned to it.

“No one else was invited,” said John, frowning.

“I’ll send off the client,” huffed Mrs. Hudson.

“No, no, it’s a guest,” said Sherlock.

“Who?” (Y/N) tilted their head.

“I invited them to dinner.” Sherlock smiled.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they moved to the door in a moment.

“Who—” John watched (Y/N) throw the door open.

“Good evening, everyone.” Irene Adler smiled, dressed in purple dress and heels.

“Irene,” said (Y/N), smiling.

“Oh, god,” groaned Mycroft.

“You texted her back,” said John, grinning at Sherlock.

“For (Y/N),” said Sherlock.

John shook his head fondly.

“Thanks for coming,” said (Y/N) as they walked to the living room with Irene.

“Of course,” said Irene. She looked at them. “Are you doing alright? I heard about what happened. I thought the call was strange.”

Mycroft sighed, knowing one of his men had been compromised and told her everything, but (Y/N) was just happy.

“I’m doing fine,” said (Y/N).

Irene patted their cheek. “Good.” She leaned in briefly. “And I meant every word.”

(Y/N) ducked their head. “I did, too.”

Irene smiled at them. “I’m glad.” She turned towards the table. “How is everyone feeling?” She looked at Mycroft and smirked. “I’ve heard your position as the ‘clever one’ of the family has been usurped.”

“It has not,” said Mycroft indignantly.

“I’m smarter than you,” said (Y/N), looking at him and smirking. “I’m the smartest Holmes.”

“I agree with them,” said Sherlock.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and looked at Irene. “You are quite daring to return here.”

“Am I?” remarked Irene innocently, sitting down.

(Y/N) watched their family begin to interact with one another and smiled. They looked at Sherlock. “You actually invited her.”

“Your whole family is here,” said Sherlock, smiling at them.

(Y/N) hugged him. “Thank you, Dad. Thank you so much. For finding me, for teaching me, for loving me.”

Sherlock hugged him back. “I’d do it a thousand times. I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you, too, Dad,” said (Y/N). They had everything they needed. Love, family, a brave heart, and a clever brain. They had everything they ever wanted.

Years later…

“You be good for Mrs. Hudson, alright?” John looked at a now toddler Rosie with a smile.

Rosie nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“And if Sherlock told you to see what would happen if you do…anything…don’t do it,” said John.

Rosie just smiled, and John groaned. Unfortunately, he couldn’t help looking at her fondly.

“(Y/N), you ready?” said Sherlock.

An adult (Y/N) nodded as they entered the room. They pulled on a long purple coat. “Of course.” They smirked. “I’m always ready. After all…” They tossed Sherlock’s deerstalker to him. “The game is on.”

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mothfables · 9 months ago

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Snail Ch. 3: Doctors Knew Before I Did

The Chain has their first monster battle with little Legend. Also, Wind joins Sky in Legend’s list of trusted people.

Wind is staring.

He knows it’s rude, but he can’t help it! Seeing the Veteran, usually so confident and self-assured, now so quiet, frightened even, is strange.

...Though, he supposes he’d be scared too if he was suddenly small and surrounded by strangers.

But they’re not strangers to him, not really! Which is good, because he’s not sure what they’d do if little Legend didn’t remember them at all. Try really really hard to prove they’re not going to hurt him, probably, going off of his reaction when he first saw them.

—————————

Wind hadn’t known what to think when it happened — only that one moment their Veteran was there and the next he wasn’t. Seeing him so small had set off his protective instincts something fierce, though, and he’d torn into the monsters going after his suddenly-defenseless brother. He wasn’t alone in that, either; Twilight, Wars, and even Hyrule were especially vicious in their efforts to reach him.

And then the monsters were gone and they’d barely gotten a glimpse of him before he disappeared into the trees faster than Wind could blink.

When Sky brings him back Wind finds himself shocked. Legend is tiny and timid and shy, clinging to the older hero in a way older Legend wouldn’t be caught dead doing. He’s even smaller than Four, somehow.

At least he seems to trust Sky. The Chosen is hard not to, honestly, with his kind face and soft demeanor. If it were to be anyone out of their group to gain little Legend’s trust, it would be him.

They all introduce themselves at Sky’s prompting and Wind watches his newly-little brother closely. He’s worried about what’s going through that ever-busy mind, violet eyes flicking between them with a wariness he’s only ever seen when facing dangerous enemies. The boy spooks badly when Warriors and Time speak up, little ears pressing flat against his head and eyes going wide-wide-wide. When it’s his turn, Wind makes sure to keep his body language loose and unthreatening, despite how much he feels like vibrating out of his own skin; it seems to help because Legend untenses just the slightest bit. Wind takes it as a victory.

And then: “‘m Legend. I know you.”

Things get very loud very fast. Wind doesn’t look away from Legend and so he sees the way he cowers into Sky, little shoulders hiking up to his ears and hands clenching the older hero’s pants in tiny fists as he trembles and hides his face. Wind is struck by how much he looks like Aryll when she’s scared or overwhelmed, clinging to Granny or himself for comfort.

He watches as Sky murmurs to Legend, trying to figure out what’s wrong. He’s about to step forward and see if he can help when Sky straightens, snapping his fingers to gain everyone’s attention before signing ‘QUIET!!!’

Amazingly, it works. They all promptly shut up and turn to the Chosen Hero and the child plastered to his side. Sky is glaring fiercely, one hand petting soft pink hair and the other resting protectively against a small back.

Time steps forward, kneeling so as to be closer to Legend’s current eye level. The boy peeks out at him for a moment before hiding his face again. Wind catches a glimpse of teary eyes and pale cheeks and feels that surge of protectiveness again. Legend shouldn’t ever have to look like that; he’ll do whatever it takes to keep that look away from his brother’s face in the future.

Time asks Legend about what he remembers and- oh, yeah, that’s probably a good thing to know. His stuttered answer has more than one of them wincing. Wind sneaks a glance around and sees Four muttering ‘...jumbly?’ with a confused expression. Wild looks especially distressed and Wind recalls suddenly the Champion’s own memory issues.

Right.

This would be uncomfortably familiar to Wild, wouldn’t it. Wind makes a note to check on him later, or at least point Twilight in his direction if he can’t do it himself.

And then Sky is kneeling down and drawing Legend into a hug. He leans into it without complaint, still obviously overwhelmed and confused and upset. Sky rocks side to side, and to Wind’s amazement Legend calms almost instantly, tucking his face into Sky’s neck with a sigh.

Sky remains there for a few more moments, humming softly and petting his hair. Then he stands and hoists Legend onto her hip with a grunt. Legend doesn’t react beyond a small sound and nestling closer.

“Oof, he’s- really light, actually.” Sky blinks in surprise.

Twilight chuckles, though it sounds a little strained. “Kids’re either lighter or heavier than ya expect. Don’t worry too much ‘bout it.”

“If you say so.” Sky looks doubtful but doesn’t argue. She glances at Time where he still kneels on the ground. “We should probably get moving. I don’t want anything else coming along and taking us by surprise.”

Their leader nods and pushes himself to his feet, groaning. Wind has to bite his lip to muffle a snicker. Old Man indeed.

“Let’s find a place off the road to settle down for the night. We can figure what out to do from there. Does everyone have everything?” There’s a chorus of assent.

“Wait!” Sky gasps. “Does anyone have Legend’s things? I don’t remember seeing them when he ran off.”

There’s a moment where they all scramble to look around for them before Wild speaks up. “I grabbed them after you went after him. His weapons and jewelry and everything are all in the Slate.”

Sky sighs in relief.

“Alright, that’s good to hear. Thank you for doing that, Wild.” With a nod, Time sets off down the road in the direction they were going before everything went to shit and the rest of them follow after. Sky stays in the middle of the group, Legend secure in his arms. Everyone else sticks close, keeping an eye out for more danger.

Wind walks next to Sky, sneaking glances every so often, so he’s able to see how Legend clings tight to the older hero, how he keeps his face hidden. Over time he relaxes and seems to fall into a doze, only to startle awake when someone starts to speak. His ears - which are so small! but still very long, which is something Wind’s noticed to be unique to him - flicker uneasily, listening intently to everything around him. Nothing happens for a few minutes and he relaxes again. Then someone else opens their mouth and the cycle repeats.

Eventually they find a place to stop for the night. Camp is set and dinner is eaten without much conversation. Legend doesn’t once let go of Sky.

It’s only once the boy has fallen into an uneasy sleep that someone speaks up.

“...So, what do we do about this?” Four is the one to break the silence. “Do we let it run it’s course? Or do we try to break or reverse it somehow?”

“Do we even have anything that could undo something like this?” Warriors asks.

“Well, I have my moon pearl, but it’s meant to protect you while in the Dark World or from dark magic. Like Twilight’s shadow chrystal,” they explain at Wars’ questioning look. “I know for a fact Legend always keeps his on him, so it should have protected him if it was that sort of magic.”

Twilight’s guilty wince goes unnoticed by all except Sky and Wind. He watches as she narrows her eyes, glancing between the Rancher and the child in her lap before they go wide in realization. Wind frowns; there’s definitely a story there.

Meanwhile, Hyrule is looking closely at Legend from their place beside Sky, brows furrowed. Their head tilts as they mutter under their breath. Wind, sitting on their other side, can barely make out the words spell, curse, natural magic, and twist, maybe? When they pause to take a breath Wind nudges them with his shoulder.

“Got anythin’ ya want ta share, Traveler?”

Hyrule startles before stammering, “O-oh! Uh, I was just- trying to figure out what exactly, um- caused this?” His voice rises in uncertainty.

“That would be good to know,” Wars says, nodding. “What have you got so far?”

Hyrule hums. “It’s- Well, I think it was originally supposed to be a dark spell? Or some sort of curse, maybe.”

Four narrows his eyes at the phrasing. “‘Supposed to be’? So you’re saying it... changed somehow? How would that happen?”

“I’m not sure, but...” Hyrule bites his lip. “His natural magic might have- I dunno, caught it and... twisted it, is the closest thing I can think of. Or maybe some of his items; they’re filled with enough magic to cause a pretty significant rebound.”

“Perhaps it was a mix of both,” Time muses. “The Veteran does carry a large array of powerful items. It’s possible that something in his inventory had some sort of reaction to whatever it was that was intended to hit him.”

It’s quiet for a moment as everyone takes that in. Then Legend snuffles against Sky’s shoulder and Wind has to bite back a coo.

“You must admit, he’s pretty cute like this,” Wars mutters, like he doesn’t intend for anyone to hear. Wind can hear him just fine, and makes it clear by agreeing loudly enough that Wars gives him the stink-eye from across the fire.

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he? Reminds me o’ Aryll when she was little.”

Wars coughs. “So... Do we have anything that could reverse this?”

Twilight hums for a moment before snapping his fingers. “When I got changed t’ the wolf fer the first time, I had ta use the Master Sword ta reverse it. Think tha’ would work here, Sky?”

Sky chews her lip, absentmindedly running a hand through Legend’s hair as she stares at the fire. “It... might,” she says finally, though it sounds unsure. “If- Fi is made to dispel dark... If what Hyrule said is true and Legend’s magic changed it... It might do nothing. Or it might make it worse.” Time flinches imperceptibly. “Since his memory was so affected by the initial change, I’m worried what trying to undo it might do.”

It’s silent for a while after that. Everyone wants Legend to be okay, of course, but if it’s at the cost of his memories...

“I think...” Hyrule starts quietly, like they’re thinking through the words as he says them, “it might be best if we let this run its course. Or at least wait and see how things go before trying to change him back.”

“I agree. Memories are- delicate.” Wild speaks up. “If we can keep him from losing any or messing them up any more than they are, we should do our best to do that.”

No one objects. After a moment Time clears his throat.

“I suppose we are all in agreement, then? We’ll see how things go and use the Master Sword only if necessary?” There’s various sounds of agreement around the fire. Time lets out a breath before slapping his knees and pushing to his feet.

“I suggest we all get some rest, then. Today was... eventful, to say the least. There’s no telling what tomorrow will bring, and we would do well to be prepared. Captain, would you mind taking first watch?”

With that, they all set about their normal nightly routine. Well... almost normal. It’s oddly quiet without Legend’s standard sarcastic quips and snark, even if he doesn’t always say anything. Just his presence is enough to fill the space.

Now that space is occupied by a tiny, shy shadow of the Veteran’s usual self.

—————————

The night passes without any more incidents. Wind wakes the next morning having almost forgotten the events of yesterday, and thus does a double take at the sight of Sky curled around a tiny body, the only part visible a tuft of soft pink hair.

Everyone else is in various stages of awake and gathered around the fire pit. They’re doing a good job of more-or-less minding their own business, though every so often someone will glance over at the lump of blankets containing the Chosen Hero and his charge.

Wild finishes breakfast and is in the process of handing it out when there’s a quiet snuffling sound from the direction of the bedrolls. Everyone looks over in time to witness little Legend sneeze himself awake. It’s nothing like the Vet’s usual muffled sneezes- these are tiny and squeaky and altogether the cutest sound Wind has ever heard.

(Can a sound be cute? ...Y’know what, who cares? This one definitely is.)

The sudden sneezing fit has the bonus effect of waking Sky, who bolts upright with a snort, freeing Legend from the cuddly trap of his arms. The boy tumbles out of the blankets, blinks, and sneezes again.

“Bless you,” Time says mildly.

Wind can’t help himself and coos. “Is it weird ta say that that’s my new favourite sound in any world ever?”

“I wuz gunna say yeah but tha’ is pretty cute,” Twilight agrees.

Sky stumbles to his feet with a yawn. Wild waves at her and she makes her way over to join the rest of them around the fire. Legend quickly follows, latching on to her shirt with little hands. She pauses for a moment at the action, blinking down at him in surprise before shaking it off.

She plops down between Wind and Twilight, giving them a sleepy nod in greeting that they return. Legend hesitates to follow; when she tries to encourage him to sit he takes one look at the Rancher and shies away.

Twilight immediately looks as if his heart has been torn out of his chest and stomped on in front of him. He watches forlornly as Legend inches around behind Sky to her other side.

“Here, I got you.” As if it’s second nature, Sky reaches over and lifts the boy up to set him in her lap. Legend squeaks and goes still, eyes wide with surprise.

It takes a moment for the realization of what she just did to set in, and then Sky is stammering apologies. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-!”

His frantic rambling is brought to a halt as Legend curls up against him with a little hum. His hands hover uncertainly before he lets out a breath and wraps them around the small body in his lap. Legend nestles closer with a content sound.

Quiet footsteps have the older hero glancing up to see Wild coming over, a bowl in each hand. He holds them out with a small smile. “I made oatmeal. I didn’t know if you or Legend wanted anything in yours, so I left it plain. There’s stuff to add to it if you want.”

Sky takes them with a quiet ‘thank you’. He nudges Legend until he looks up and hands him a bowl. “Wild wants to know if you want anything in yours,” he tells him.

Legend stares down at his bowl for a few moments, biting his lip, before he looks up with a shy expression. “Um, I like- I like apples. With cinnamon,” he says quietly.

Wild smiles. “I can do that.”

It’s short work for the Champion to produce and slice an apple from his slate and sprinkle it with cinnamon. He arranges the slices on a small plate and hands it to Legend with another smile.

It’s received with an answering smile and a brightening of violet eyes at the first bite. Legend gives a happy little hum, swaying side to side as he eats. Within minutes both the plate and bowl are picked clean.

The rest of them finish their own breakfast soon after and move to get ready for the day ahead. Legend does his best to help; it’s clear he’s having trouble adjusting to being small again while his brain tells him he should be bigger. Still, he’s stubborn.

Eventually camp is packed up and the Chain sets out. Legend clings to Sky’s hand, trotting alongside him as they walk.

Wind stays close like he did yesterday, chattering up a storm. Legend doesn’t respond much, but that’s okay. He just wants to keep his brother from getting lost in his own head. It seems to work as the boy perks up and doesn’t stick quite so close to Sky.

By the time lunchtime nears, however, Legend is flagging. He refuses all offers to carry him, though, no matter who asks. Over time, he drifts to the back of the group, stumbling tiredly but still stubbornly staying on his own two feet. His hand is still tight in Sky’s.

He stumbles again and Sky makes a worried noise. “Are you sure you don’t want a break? No one would mind-”

“I can do it on my own,” Legend growls. Or, well, Wind is pretty sure that’s what he’s aiming for but it comes out as a tired, mumbled whine. “I managed fine on all my other adventures.” He pulls his hand out of Sky’s.

The older hero looks saddened by the action and Wind feels the same. Legend is so little, like this, and he’s claiming he doesn’t need any help, even though he’s so clearly exhausted. Still, if he doesn’t want help they can’t force it on him. They know from experience it would only end badly.

Up ahead, Twilight pauses, ears flicking as he glances around. “Ah’m hearin’ monsters in th’ woods,” he warns. “Dunno where ‘xactly, but we best be careful.”

“You heard the man, keeps your eyes out for anything that could signal an attack,” Wars calls back to the rest of them.

A few minutes pass and the road stays quiet. Legend falls further and further behind. Wind hears him stumble again and exchanges a worried glance with Sky.

“If he falls I don’t care if he doesn’t want to be carried. I’m picking him up.”

“I’ll help,” Wind offers.

Another stumble and a gasp sound from behind them.

“Okay, that’s it.” Sky turns around. “Lege, I know you don’t want-” He cuts off with a horrified sound.

“Legend!”

Wind whips around to see Legend high off the ground in the grip of a huge moblin. The boy kicks and struggles but he may as well be fighting a rock for all the good it does; the monster, completely unfazed, gives him a hearty shake. Legend yelps as his head snaps back at the force of it and Wind feels his heart stop.

Suddenly an arrow whizzes overhead to embed itself in the monster’s eye. It howls with pain and drops Legend who falls to the ground with a sharp crack!

Sky is there in the next moment, scooping Legend off the ground and slicing the moblin in half in a single movement. He bolts back to the safety of the group with Legend clutched tightly to his chest.

The boy is clutching his left wrist in a vice grip, face pale.

Monsters pour from the trees on either side of the path, blades and teeth glinting and sharp. Wind notes moblins and bokoblins mostly, with a few lizalfos for good measure. They don’t even have the good grace to be from the same era.

Fun.

There’s too many to fight as a group so they split, Warriors barking orders and the rest of them hurrying to follow. Wind blinks and finds himself backed against the treeline with little Legend trembling next to him. Biting his lip, Wind glances around.

The monsters are all in front of him. Now that they’ve launched their attack they don’t seem to care about using the trees to their advantage anymore.

He can work with that.

“Lege, can you climb?” A shaky nod. “Okay, climb one o’ the trees behind us an’ stay there til the fight’s over, ‘kay?”

Legend looks like he wants to protest but a sudden snarl sends him scurrying for the closest trunk. Wind ducks a blow and watches him clamber up surprisingly quickly to crouch on a large branch with his uninjured hand over his mouth and the other tucked to his chest.

The sailor takes that as his cue to start slashing at the monsters surrounding him. He dodges one and stabs another before rolling to avoid a spear jabbing into the ground where his leg was a moment before.

He jumps and slashes, stabs and rolls, all the while doing his best to keep the monsters away from the tree where his little brother is hiding.

A lizalfos keeps him busy for a few minutes before he manages to cut its tail off, making it shriek and flail. Wind finishes it off with a stab through the chest.

Then it’s just a few more bokoblins, thankfully none of which are black-blooded. He manages to take them down relatively quickly while avoiding serious injury himself before turning to check on the rest of his brothers and catch his breath.

Time is engaged with a moblin from Wild’s time on the other side of the path. He seems to be doing fine- with a swing of his sword he lops off one of its arms then bisects it as it howls.

Twilight and Warriors are tag-teaming a pack of bokoblins. One darts in to distract while the other strikes from the side or behind. Together they make quick work of the monsters before turning to find more opponents.

Similarly, Four and Wild are wreaking havoc nearby - Wind winces as he hears the by-now-familiar sound of a sword shattering and Four yelling.

He can’t find Hyrule but he does see Sky, slicing through monster after monster with deadly efficiency.

Soon all the monsters are nothing but dust and the heroes move to regather in the center of the path. Injuries are made note of to take care of once they make camp unless they’re urgent; Wind himself only has a few minor scrapes and bruises, thanks to that darn lizalfos.

He turns back to the tree where Legend is still hiding, holding out his arms with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “All th’ monsters are gone. D’ya want help gettin’ down?”

A nod. Legend shuffles to the edge of the branch and lets his legs dangle over the side, looking apprehensively between the ground and where Wind stands waiting, biting his lip. The sailor is patient and waits for him to make up his mind, knowing the other boy never does well when pushed. After a minute Legend shoves himself off the branch, making Wind yelp and nearly dive to catch him before he hits the ground. He holds his little brother close to his chest as he tries to catch his breath, feeling him cling back just as tightly.

“Let’s um- l-let’s not do tha’ again... yeah?”

Wind feels him nod shakily, pressing closer and gripping at his shirt as he trembles.

Wars calls over from where he’s doing after-battle checks. “Wind, you okay over there?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, all good!” He hefts the small body in his arms only to freeze at a sudden pained yelp. “Woah woah, what’s wrong?!”

Legend whimpers and tries to push away, forcing Wind to hold him tighter so he doesn’t drop him. He lets out another pained noise and Wind suddenly remembers the sound he made when the moblin dropped him. He curses and hurries back to where their brothers wait, looking worried.

“Wars, can ya take a look at ‘is arm? He hurt it real bad when th’ moblin dropped ‘im.”

The Captain is already hurrying over, medical bag in hand.

“Set him down, let me see,” he demands as he gets closer. Wind goes to obey but Legend won’t let go. Instead, he presses closer despite his earlier attempts to get down. The nearer Wars draws the more Legend tries his best to meld into Wind’s torso.

The sailor eventually elects to just sit down and hold him in his lap. He wraps his arms around the smaller boy, tight enough to keep him from wriggling away but loose enough he’s not squishing him.

Legend quiets but continues to watch Warriors warily. As the older hero kneels down before them Wind feels him press back against his chest as though trying to hide.

Wars moves slowly and gently, obviously trying not to upset him any further. He doesn’t touch Legend; instead he says softly, “Hey there, bud. Wind told me you hurt your arm when you fell. Is it alright if I take a look at it?”

Legend takes a shaky breath and hesitantly nods. He doesn’t move, though. Wars stays where he is, waiting for him to decide what he wants to do.

It takes another minute before Legend slowly, slowly extends his left arm towards Warriors. The captain gently takes his wrist to inspect it, politely ignoring the flinch it causes. He pushes Legend’s sleeve back and moves his wrist back and forth a few times, pressing lightly to test the bones. Wind can see it beginning to swell already and suppresses a wince.

“It’s broken, alright,” is the diagnosis.

Wars reaches into his bag and pulls out a roll of bandages to wrap Legend’s wrist with, telling him what he’s doing the whole time in a soft voice. He pauses to grab a sturdy stick, breaks it in half, and uses that to hold the limb in place. Then he finishes wrapping it, taking care to keep his movements slow.

For his part, Wind does his best to keep his little brother calm - keeping his arms around him in a hug, rubbing his uninjured arm, even pressing a kiss to his hair when he lets out a muffled whimper at the pain. He thinks it helps.

When he finishes wrapping Legend’s wrist Wars pulls out a red potion and instructs him to sip it slowly. When it’s about halfway empty he takes it back and hands it to Wind, who downs it without complaint. “We’ll leave your wrist wrapped for now, let the potion do it’s job. I’ll check on it again tomorrow, okay?”

He waits for Legend to nod before standing and making his way back to the others. Sky immediately takes his place, looking over first Legend and then Wind worriedly. She doesn’t crowd, though, well aware of Legend’s dislike of it.

“We’re alright, Sky,” Wind reassures. “Wars took care of it.”

“I know,” she sighs, moving to sit next to them. “I’m just worried. That was scary.”

Wind nods. It was really scary; seeing Legend in the hands of that moblin, watching him fall, the crack! as his wrist broke... the fact he’d hardly made a noise the entire time...

It’s a relief when the call to get moving comes. Wind stumbles to his feet and moves to hand Legend over to Sky only for the boy to cling to his shirt with a whine. Exchanging a glance with Sky, he tries again but Legend only clings tighter, burying his head against his collarbone.

“Come on, let’s go!” Twilight calls. “We’re gunna try ta get as far as we can afore it gets dark!”

With Legend clinging to Wind like a limpet he shares one last look with Sky before following after the rest of their brothers.

Thankfully it seems the fight will be the only excitement for the day. The rest of the walk is quiet- well, as quiet as it gets with a group like theirs, anyway.

More than once Wind is asked, mostly jokingly, if he’d rather let someone else carry Legend. He just huffs and continues walking.

“I do have a little sister, y’know,” he reminds them. “I can carry a kid for a while.” Besides, Legend chose him, he’s his responsibility!

He catches Twilight pouting at that but gracefully decides not to mention it. The Rancher will get his turn when he gets his turn, no need to whine about it.

Everyone is still a little wound up from the fight, so instead of stopping for lunch like they’d planned Wild hands out skewers to eat as they walk. Wind eats his fish skewer in record time so he can hold the fruit skewer Wild pulled out for Legend.

It’s eaten slowly, interrupted by the occasional sniffle. Wind doesn’t judge him for it; a broken wrist is nothing to laugh at, especially at his age.

—————————

By the time they call it a day Wind’s arms and shoulders are sore. Carrying a kid for so long is no easy feat, but he’d refused to give in and hand Legend over to someone else, only shifting him to his other hip to give his arm a break. The kid in question had fallen asleep sometime after lunch, resting his head on Wind’s shoulder and his hair tickling his cheek.

Camp is made in a clearing a little ways off the path. Wind drops down on a log with a sigh, ready to rest after such a long day. Sky joins him with a yawn and Wind muffles a laugh.

“How is he?” the older hero asks quietly, glancing at Legend where he’s curled into the sailor’s shoulder.

“I think th’ fight an’ everythin’ wore ‘im out,” he murmurs back. “Breakin’ his wrist didn’t help either.” A though occurs to him then and he straightens to look at his brother.

“Sky, earlier when Wars came over an’ set his wrist...” he begins slowly. “Lege got all scared. I-I know he doesn’t like knights- um, big Lege that is. Do you... d’you think it’s somethin’ he remembers from when he was bigger, or-?”

He doesn’t want to finish, doesn’t want to consider what the alternative might mean.

Sky pales as the implication of Wind’s words hit him. “I- I don’t know-”

He’s interrupted by the subject of their conversation stirring awake, blinking open bleary violet eyes. There’s a moment before those eyes settle on Sky. Legend stares for a heartbeat before lifting his hand and giving a small wave.

Sky returns it then clears his throat. “Hey, chick, can I... can I ask you something?”

Legend blinks but nods. Sky gives a wan smile.

“Alright. This... this is a hard question, so don’t force yourself to answer it, okay?” Another nod, this one less sure. “Okay. Wind told me you got scared when Warriors fixed up your wrist earlier. Can you- could you tell me why?”

Legend takes a sharp intake of breath, opening and closing his mouth a few times before biting his lip and shoving his face against Wind’s chest.

“Hey, hey, you don’t have to answer that if it’s too hard. It’s okay-”

“I don’t like knights,” comes the answer, quiet but capturing everyone’s attention nonetheless. “They chase me. They’re bad.” A sniffle. “They used t’ be good but then A-Agahnim cast a spell that made them think I ki-kidnapped th’ pr’ncess even though I didn’t. Th-they didn’t listen when I told them I didn’t do it. Zelda an’ me fixed it after I beat Ganon bu’ then Yuga came an’ made ‘em bad again.”

Wind feels like he’s going to be sick. He knew his brother held a strong distaste for knights, but to know this was why... He swallows and looks away only to see his own horror reflected back at him on his brothers’ faces.

Warriors especially looks stricken.

“This... Agahnim... is he still-? What happened to him?” Time asks. His face has that pinched look it gets when he’s trying not to let his anger get the better of him.

Legend’s voice is numbed and dull when he replies. “He’s dead. I killed him.”

There’s a choking sound. “I- I’m sorry, you what? How old were you?!” Wars sounds almost desperate, like he’s begging the answer won’t be what he thinks it is.

Any hope he has is dashed to pieces when Legend answers, face unnervingly empty.

“Nine.”

#moth’s tales #linked universe #lu legend #snail #fanfiction #linked universe fanfiction #linked universe au #lu wind #autistic legend #lu the chain #lu sky #lu warriors

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charliedawn · 2 months ago

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Charlie, I don't know if you've watched it

But I've been binging House MD for a week now and I am curious

How would the slashers react to a nurse/doctor/caretaker that acts like House? Throw in the injured leg and popping painkillers if you want.

(course you don't need to do this, especially if you haven't watched it, but I suggest it, it's a really good show!)

(I love this show ! And I loved the idea. Maybe I went a little overboard, but I hope you’ll like it !)

Dr. Gregory House was not impressed.

He limped through the front doors of St. Louis Hospital for the Criminally Insane, his cane tapping against the marble floors, the sound echoing off the tall, institutional walls. The hospital looked like it had been plucked straight from a horror film. Looming in the shadow of a distant mountain range, the gloomy forest surrounding it, the structure was a mix of gothic and brutalist architecture, its jagged, imposing edges designed to keep people both out and in. The kind of place that whispered secrets in the wind and held darkness in its very bones.

House paused in the entrance lobby, taking in the security cameras, the reinforced glass, and the guards stationed at every corner like statues. A hospital, they called it. It was more like a fortress—a prison masquerading as healthcare.

"Well, this is cozy," he muttered under his breath.

Two security officers flanked him as they walked down the corridor, their eyes glancing nervously at every door. House smirked. Not even the staff feels safe here, he thought.

He had been transferred here after what his superiors at Princeton-Plainsboro had called "several breaches of professional conduct." To be fair, they weren’t wrong. Sure, he'd solved cases no one else could, but apparently there was a limit to how many patients you could verbally abuse, experiment on, or trick into revealing life-threatening conditions.

So now, after burning every single bridge out there, here he was—sent to St. Louis to deal with a different kind of patient: the criminally insane. Specifically, the violent ones. The ones who liked to stab, slice, and butcher. It wasn’t that they didn’t need medical care. They did—often after failing to finish the job on themselves or others. But these were the slashers, the ones whose names conjured fear and nightmares. Legends in their own right. And that made him excited.

"Dr. House," said a nurse as she advanced towards him with a smile. "Welcome to St. Louis."

He huffed.

"Really ? I feel like I should be checking in with my parole officer, not you," House replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He glanced at the directory on the wall: Intake, Ward A, Ward B, Ward C: Maximum Security. His eyes lingered on the last one. He bet that’s where all the "fun" patients were.

"Not many doctors survive long here," the nurse explained, ignoring his jabs. "Our patients... well, they have certain needs that require someone of your...unconventional skill set."

House raised an eyebrow. "Unconventional, huh ? Bouhou. You almost hurt my feelings."

He smirked.

She stared at him for a long moment before deciding to ignore him and continuing. "Your patients will be some of the most dangerous people in the country, Dr House. Murderers. Sociopaths. Many of them are mentally fractured in ways modern medicine still doesn’t fully understand."

House rolled his eyes. "Fractured brains, violent tendencies...sounds like a weekend with my ex-wife."

She smiled politely before gesturing down the hall, where a guard was stationed in front of a heavy steel door, the words Ward C etched above it in grim lettering. "This is where you’ll be assigned. Ward C—reserved for the most violent offenders." The nurse informed him and House tapped his cane on the ground, surveying the corridor. "And I get the pleasure of keeping them alive ? Lucky me."

He scoffed sarcastically and she nodded.

"They don't just need medical attention. They need to be understood. We need to know why they are the way they are, and more importantly, how to control it. Think of it as one long medical mystery, Doctor House. I know how much you love mysteries." She grinned—thinking he might take up the challenge and she wasn’t wrong.

House leaned in slightly, his face turning serious. "So, you're telling me I'll be working with slashers ? The 'legends' of the violent crime world ? Monsters who carve up people for fun ? Why, oh why, didn’t you lead with that ?" He grinned back.

Their lips tightened, unimpressed with his dark humor. "You’ll be given access to their medical histories and psychological profiles. If you’re good enough to figure them out."

He rolled his eyes.

"Toots, I’ve diagnosed people with diseases no one’s heard of and found cures no one believed in. Your little band of merry killers isn’t going to throw me off."

He didn’t hesitate before taking the files she handed him and leafing through them. His eyes widened on the little he was given to work with. Most of them were so classified all over that there was more black than white on them and House finally frowned before closing the files. Right. They were sending doctors in there with no idea about what they were supposed to do or what they were gonna face. No wonder they were short-staffed…

The nurse sighed. "Just don’t get yourself killed."

Too fast…, Dr House guessed she had left out by the way she looked away and bit her lower lip. Yeah. It seemed the cemetery he had seen on his way in wasn’t just early decoration for Halloween.

But, he still felt confide and smirked at her.

"Don't worry. I'm not planning on letting any of them get too close." He glanced at the guard by the door. "Besides, I always bring protection." He tapped his cane. "This thing’s more useful than it looks."

The nurse hesitated before sighing and nodding. A guard opened the door to Ward C, and immediately the mood shifted. The air inside was heavier, like the building itself could feel the presence of the patients it held. It was a long corridor lined with cells—each one sealed tight with reinforced glass, inside them dim figures pacing or sitting, their faces obscured. The sound of heavy breathing, the occasional murmur or maniacal laughter echoed faintly from deeper within. The first door they passed revealed a huge masked man hunched over on his bed, his eyes staring intently at Dr. House as he walked past his cell. His file—clipped to the door—read Brahms Heelshire, better known to the world as the ‘Nanny Killer’ or ‘Killer Doll’. Next to him was the infamous Freddy Krueger—his eyes fixed on him with a sleazy smile. Across from them was Jason Voorhees, his hulking frame slouched in a corner, his hockey mask reflecting the dim lights.

"This is like the slasher hall of fame," House mused, scanning the infamous names as if he were walking through a bizarre art gallery. "Do they give tours ?"

At the end of the hall was an empty room—empty except for a single metal chair, bolted to the ground, with heavy restraints dangling from the armrests. No patient. No file. Just an eerie, cold silence.

"Who’s this for ?" House asked, tapping the door with his cane.

"That’s for Michael Myers," the nurse replied flatly, the name hanging in the air like an ominous cloud. "He’s currently undergoing evaluation. It happens sporadically, but he always comes back."

House raised an eyebrow. "Ah, the Michael Myers. The boogeyman himself. I’ve read about him. The guy who never dies and never says a word. Sounds like an ideal patient—no complaints, no endless monologues about how their mother didn’t love them enough."

The nurse didn’t flinch at House’s sarcasm. "He’s unpredictable. Dangerous in ways you cannot possibly imagine."

House waved it off, still scanning the eerily quiet room with its empty chair. "Unpredictable ? That’s my bread and butter. Sounds like a normal day for me, minus the masks and machetes. Besides, I’ve been trying to kill myself slowly for years—alcohol, Vicodin, maybe the occasional slash-happy patient will speed up the process."

The nurse eyed him warily. "This isn't a joke, Dr. House. The patients here aren’t just disturbed—they’re lethal. You’re not dealing with people who want to be saved. They want to hurt. And they don’t need much of an excuse."

House rolled his eyes, tapping his cane again. "You don’t say. Well, considering this place looks like it could double as Dracula’s vacation home, I’m guessing safety measures aren’t exactly high priority. Where are the mood lights ? The potted plants ? You’re supposed to make hospitals inviting, you know. Maybe some soft jazz, something to make me forget I’m surrounded by lunatics."

The nurse ignored him, her patience visibly thinning. "You’ve been given full access to their records. Try to understand what drives them. They’re all damaged in ways that defy typical psychiatric diagnoses. If anyone can find out what makes them tick, it’s you.”

House sighed dramatically, the weight of the situation lost on him. "Fine, fine. I’ll crack open their skulls and poke around—metaphorically, of course—find out what’s rattling in there. Though I’d wager it’s mostly bad childhood memories and a fascination with sharp objects."

The nurse’s serious tone didn’t waver. "Be careful, Dr. House. This isn’t Princeton-Plainsboro. The rules here are different. These patients...they do not care about your brilliance. They won’t hesitate to hurt you if given the chance."

As they continued walking down the corridor, House’s eyes wandered over the slasher patients in their cells. He recognized many of them from headlines, documentaries, and whispered urban legends. The names alone would send chills down anyone else’s spine—serial killers who made a career out of violence, leaving destruction in their wake. But to House, they were just patients. Puzzles to be solved, however warped or shattered they might be.

House paused, his sharp blue eyes flicking down to meet hers, the smirk fading slightly. He let out a small, humorless chuckle. "You know, the thing about people like me ? We never really expect to survive."

The nurse ignored the comment. "These patients are unlike anything you've ever dealt with. Most of them are physically resilient, surviving injuries that should have killed them multiple times over. Their psychosis, in many cases, seems almost...supernatural."

"Supernatural ?" House let out a scoff. "That’s a fun word for 'We don’t know what the hell’s wrong with them,' isn’t it ?"

She didn’t answer, but her silence was telling. House could feel the weight of his new role settling on his shoulders, but it wasn’t the weight of fear. It was the thrill of the unknown. The mystery of minds so fractured, so broken, they seemed beyond repair. Seemed being the key word.

As they reached the end of Ward C, House stopped to study the doors once more. He tapped his cane on the floor, looking at the empty room reserved for Michael Myers. A shiver of excitement ran through him, though he’d never admit it. Whatever the slashers’ issues were, House lived for this—the challenge, the chase, the impossible diagnosis. And in this new place, with patients who blurred the line between reality and nightmare, he knew one thing for sure:

It was going to be one hell of a ride.

"You sure you’re ready for this, Dr. House ?" the nurse asked, her voice a little quieter now, as if she too had second thoughts. House smirked again, twirling his cane once before letting it tap the floor. "Ready ? I’ve been bored for years. This place might finally give me something to care about."

With that, he turned, making his way down the dim corridor, passing the locked cells of notorious killers, his cane echoing through the silent ward. Ward C, the place of horrors, home to the most disturbed minds in the world. But House didn’t flinch.

This was going to be fun.

He smiled.

That afternoon:

Dr. Gregory House stepped into the dimly lit room of one of the cells of Ward C, and his eyes immediately fell on the the broad bloke curled up on himself like a child. Sitting quietly in the corner was Brahms Heelshire, his face obscured by the mask of a porcelain doll, but this was no child’s toy. Beside him, placed with eerie precision on a small wooden chair, sat a life-sized doll—a spitting image of Brahms himself, right down to the carefully crafted clothing and unnerving, glassy eyes.

House smirked, his cane tapping lightly on the tiled floor as he sized up the room. "So, I guess this is what passes for family around here. Must be nice having a twin brother who doesn’t talk back."

Brahms didn’t move. His posture was perfectly still—like a statue frozen in place. The doll next to him—his other self—seemed to mirror the lifelessness of its owner. The room’s atmosphere felt heavy, as if the very air had been sucked out, leaving only the tension between House and the bizarre duo.

"Let me guess," House continued, walking slowly around the room, his eyes never leaving Brahms or the doll. "He’s the talkative one, right ? You’ve got the looks, and he’s got all the charm. Am I close ?"

Brahms’s head turned ever so slightly, just enough to acknowledge House’s presence, but he remained silent. His hand rested gently on the doll’s shoulder, as though it were a living thing—a cherished companion. The porcelain doll’s eyes stared back at House, empty yet somehow filled with something unsettling.

"You know, I’ve had a lot of weird patients," House continued, leaning against the wall, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "But this ? This is a first. A grown man hiding behind a doll. I’ve gotta say, your coping mechanisms are fascinating. Must be a hell of a childhood story to unpack here."

Still no response. House wasn’t surprised. He’d read Brahms’s file—how he’d spent his youth hidden away in a mansion, isolated from the world, how the doll had become both his protector and his proxy. House found the whole thing both tragic and ridiculous.

"So, what’s the deal ?" House asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is he your bodyguard ? Your best friend ? Your brother ? Or are you just using him to keep the world at a safe distance ?"

Brahms shifted again, his masked face still unreadable, but the hand on the doll’s shoulder tightened slightly. House caught the movement, his curiosity piqued.

"Ah, I see. He’s not just a doll, is he ?" House stepped closer, tapping his cane as he circled the pair. "He’s you. The version of you that never got to grow up, the one who never had to deal with all the nasty bits of being human—fear, loss, rejection. You made him your escape."

The room felt colder, the air thickening with the unspoken tension. Brahms’ silence was oppressive, but House was relentless.

"You’re not the first person to create a shield, you know," House continued. "You’ve just taken it to a creepy new level. Most people use alcohol, drugs, or a good old-fashioned mental breakdown. You ? You went full Pinocchio. But instead of becoming a real boy, you’ve stayed a puppet."

Finally, Brahms moved. He lifted his head slightly, his eyes visible through the slits of the mask, and for the first time, House felt the weight of his gaze. It wasn’t anger, nor was it fear. It was something darker—something far more broken.

"You think you understand me," Brahms finally said quietly, his voice muffled by the mask. "But you don’t. He’s not just a doll. He’s my protection. My family. My…other half."

House raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the response. "Protection from what ? The big, bad world ? Or are you just protecting yourself from the mirror ?"

Brahms’s hand clenched the doll’s shoulder harder, the tension in his body palpable. "He’s everything I’m not. He’s the part of me that’s strong. The part that doesn’t feel pain."

House leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "And what about you ? The real you, hiding behind that mask ? You think this little doll can keep you safe forever ?"

Brahms’s breathing quickened, and for a brief moment, House could see the cracks in the facade. This wasn’t just a man with a doll—this was a man torn apart by his own fractured identity. The doll wasn’t just a comfort; it was a prison. And Brahms had locked himself inside willingly.

"He protects me from people like you," Brahms hissed, his voice suddenly sharp. "People who think they can fix everything with their words. People who want to take him away from me."

House’s smirk faltered for just a second, and he tilted his head, studying Brahms more closely. "I’m not here to take anything away from you. I’m just here to figure out why a man who’s clearly smart enough to survive in a world that’s abandoned him is still hiding behind a doll."

Brahms suddenly stood up, his height more imposing than House had anticipated. He loomed over him, his masked face inches from House’s own. "You don’t know what it’s like," he growled. "To be trapped. To be hated. He’s the only one who’s ever been there for me."

House didn’t flinch and he kept staring at Brahms. "Maybe," House said, his voice low, "but he’s also the one keeping you trapped. You’re not protecting him. He’s keeping you from facing the fact that you don’t need him anymore."

Brahms recoiled slightly, as though the words had struck a chord. His hand hovered over the doll, but this time, there was hesitation. House took a step back, letting the silence settle in.

"I’ll tell you what," House said, turning toward the door. "You keep your little buddy here as long as you need to. But one day, you’re going to have to choose whether you want to be the man or the doll. Because trust me, living your life through a puppet ? That’s not living."

As House walked out of the room, leaving Brahms alone with his doll, the man’s gaze lingered on the figure beside him. The mask on Brahms’ face remained as blank as ever, but beneath it, there was a spark of hesitation.

What if the doctor was right ?

Meanwhile, Dr. House walked to the next cell. He step inside, the heavy door closing behind him with a hollow thud. He was no stranger to unusual patients—Princeton-Plainsboro had given him his fair share of weirdos—but this was something else entirely. The man sitting in front of him, legs crossed and a smirk plastered on his burned face, was notorious in ways that even House couldn’t ignore.

Freddy Krueger.

The infamous dream killer lounged in his chair, his signature bladed glove dangling from his right hand, the tips of his claws lazily tapping against the metal armrest. The sound was grating—like nails on a chalkboard. His weathered fedora cast a shadow over his disfigured face, but House could see the mocking gleam in his eyes.

"Well, well," Freddy said, his voice raspy and filled with dark amusement. "They sent me the famous Dr. House. Heard you were good at solving puzzles. You gonna fix me, doc ?"

House limped closer, his cane tapping rhythmically on the floor. He met Freddy’s gaze without flinching, his expression one of bored detachment. "Fix you ? I am a doctor, not a miracle worker. I am pretty sure whatever’s wrong with your face isn’t gonna be solved with a little Botox and a facial peel."

Freddy chuckled, low and menacing. "Oh, I like you already." He leaned forward, his gloved hand stretching out, one of the blades grazing the surface of the table between them. "But you see, Doc, I'm not one of your typical patients. You think you’ve got me all figured out ? All those fancy degrees and medical jargon…they don’t mean squat in my world."

House arched an eyebrow, unfazed by Freddy’s theatrics. "Your world, huh ? What’s that ? A world where people are dumb enough to let a burn victim in a Christmas sweater kill them in their dreams ? Yeah, sounds terrifying."

Freddy’s grin widened, showing off his jagged, yellowed teeth. "Ah, see, you don’t believe in me. You think I’m just another psycho. But trust me, Gregory," Freddy’s voice dropped to a whisper, "I live in the space between thoughts, in that part of your mind where logic can’t reach. You can diagnose diseases, figure out symptoms, but me ? I’m the disease of the mind. I’m what people fear when they close their eyes at night."

House leaned on his cane, smirking. "So you’re a glorified bad dream. Lucky for you, I am an insomniac. Let me guess, unresolved trauma, probable schizophrenia, homicidal tendencies. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re just another patient trying to sound special. But in the end, you’re just a guy who likes to kill people in their sleep because you’re too lazy to do it while they’re awake."

Freddy's eyes narrowed, but the smirk didn’t leave his face. "You think you’re safe because you’re awake right now, don’t you ?"

House shrugged. "Awake, asleep, who cares ? Reality’s overrated, and I’ve got enough Vicodin in my system to numb me to just about anything. So if you're planning on scaring me into believing your little Freddy Krueger bedtime story, you're gonna need more than some cheap theatrics."

Freddy leaned back, his blades gleaming in the dark. "Oh, I don’t need to scare you. You’re already scared. You’re scared of the things you can’t control. The things you can’t fix. I know all about you. The pain you try to hide behind that cane, the pills, the genius bravado. The people you push away because you don’t want them to see you falling apart. You think you're invincible because you don't let people get close, but deep down ? You know you’re as fragile as the rest of 'em."

For a moment, there was silence. House’s expression remained unchanged, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. The truth in Freddy’s words was too close for comfort, but House wasn’t about to let him have the satisfaction of knowing it.

"Great," House said dryly, "another psychopath with a god complex who thinks he understands me. How original." He stepped closer, leaning on the table, his face inches from Freddy’s. "But here’s the thing—you may get your kicks messing with people’s heads in their sleep, but you don’t scare me. I’ve already seen my demons. I look them in the mirror every morning. So if you’re trying to play mind games ? You picked the wrong guy."

Freddy’s eyes glinted with amusement, but there was something darker lurking behind them. "Oh, don’t worry, Doc," he purred. "I’ve got all the time in the world. You’ll fall asleep eventually. And when you do, I’ll be waiting."

House straightened up, giving a dismissive wave. "Yeah, yeah, I’m shaking in my boots. Until then, try not to claw up the furniture. I’m guessing the hospital budget doesn’t cover Freddy-proofing."

He turned to leave, his cane tapping the floor as he moved toward the door. But just before he reached it, Freddy’s voice followed him, soft and sinister.

"Sweet dreams, doctor."

House didn’t look back. He wasn’t going to give Freddy the satisfaction. But as he exited the room and the door closed behind him, a faint chill ran down his spine, despite his best efforts to ignore it. He wouldn’t admit it, but there was something unsettling about Freddy Krueger—a nagging sense that even in a world built on logic and reason, there were still things out there that defied explanation. Things that lived in the cracks between science and madness.

And House knew better than most how fragile the mind could be.

Still, he wouldn’t give in to fear. Not yet. Not until he had more answers. And he wouldn’t that half-burnt steak face scare him…

Dr. House shook his head and entered the observation room of Ward C with his usual limp and caustic wit locked and loaded, though this time there was no sarcastic remark that immediately sprang to his lips. Instead, he found himself staring at a massive, hulking figure sitting motionless in the far corner of a reinforced glass cell. The dim lights glinted off a dirty, weather-worn hockey mask, the only visible part of a man whose very name had become synonymous with terror: Jason Voorhees.

House stood there for a moment, letting his eyes travel over the patient’s enormous frame. Jason was unnaturally still, his hulking body more like a statue than a human being. The man’s breathing was slow, controlled, the sound barely audible over the hum of the hospital’s air system. His presence filled the room with a tension that made the hairs on the back of House's neck stand up, though he’d never admit it.

House tapped his cane against the glass, the sharp sound ringing out in the eerie quiet. "Hey, Leatherface reject. Got a minute ?"

Jason didn’t move. No flinch, no twitch. Just pure, unnerving stillness.

House sighed dramatically. "Oh, great. One who doesn't talk. Why is it always the big guys who never have anything to say ?" He tapped the glass again, louder this time. "What, you too cool to chat with your doctor ?"

Jason’s head turned ever so slightly, the hockey mask catching more of the dim light. House could feel the weight of those unseen eyes behind the mask, watching him. There was something unsettling about the sheer silence Jason exuded—it wasn’t passive like a normal patient, it was a charged kind of quiet. The kind that spoke of brutal, unstoppable violence lurking just beneath the surface.

House glanced at the file clipped to the door—full of the usual psych evaluations, medical records, and police reports detailing Jason’s infamous history. Brutal killings, seemingly unkillable himself, somehow always returning to life despite countless injuries that should have put him down for good. It was like reading a case file on a walking corpse.

"So," House said, leaning on his cane as he studied Jason through the thick glass, "you’ve got quite the reputation. A machete-wielding maniac with mommy issues. You know, I’ve met a lot of psychos in my time, but you ? You’ve really set the bar high."

Again, Jason gave no reaction.

House’s eyes flicked back to the file. "Let’s see…drowned as a kid, came back to life somehow, spent years haunting a camp, and then went on a killing spree. Then you died. Multiple times, apparently. But, like a bad case of herpes, you keep coming back." He looked up, raising an eyebrow. "You ever think about retiring ? Maybe trying out knitting or gardening ?"

Silence.

House’s smirk faltered slightly as he watched Jason, his eyes narrowing. He’d dealt with plenty of dangerous people before—hell, he’d even had patients try to kill him once or twice—but this was different. There was an aura around Jason Voorhees that felt less like insanity and more like inevitability. House could feel it, a raw, primal energy that radiated from the man’s massive form, a quiet promise of violence.

"What’s your secret ?" House asked, his voice a touch more serious now. "How do you keep coming back ? You get stabbed, shot, burned, drowned—and yet here you are, sitting pretty in your little glass box. Most people die once and they’re done. But you…it seems you refuse to stay dead. How do you do it ?"

Jason’s head tilted slightly, as if considering House’s words, but there was still no verbal response. House squinted, noticing something. The mask, weathered and cracked, bore deep gouges and marks—battle scars from years of violence—but Jason himself, beneath the mask, seemed untouched by time.

House stepped closer to the glass. "You’ve been through more trauma than any human body could withstand, yet here you are. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve found the fountain of youth. Or at least the fountain of ‘I don’t die.’"

Jason’s hand twitched, just barely—a subtle, almost imperceptible movement—but House caught it. He stepped back, a smirk returning to his face.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve ? Does the big, silent killer not like being called an anomaly ? Come on, talk to me, Voorhees. What’s it like to come back from the dead ? Do you remember it, or is it just one long nap before you wake up and get back to slashing ?"

Jason’s breathing seemed to deepen, the sound now audible through the glass, like a beast waking from a long hibernation. House raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Ah, there we go. I knew there was something in there. You’re not completely gone, are you ? You can hear me, you understand what I’m saying."

Jason’s hand flexed slightly, the faintest of movements, but House noticed it immediately. He pressed the point, staring directly into the blank eyeholes of the hockey mask.

"You know, it’s funny," House mused, "you and I aren’t that different. You hide behind your mask, I hide behind my cane and sarcasm. You’ve got mommy issues, I’ve got issues with just about everything. We both keep people at arm’s length, and we both…well, we don’t really die, do we ?"

The room grew colder, or at least it felt like it. Jason’s form loomed larger in the silence, and House’s smirk faltered again.

"You know what the difference is though ?" House asked, his voice lowering as he stared into the void behind the mask. "I know why I’m still here. I know what keeps me going. But you ? I’m not so sure. You’re just a blunt instrument, aren’t you ? You don’t have a reason. You just are. And that…that’s what makes you dangerous."

Jason shifted in his seat, the sound of leather creaking as his massive frame adjusted. House felt the weight of Jason’s presence bearing down on him like a storm cloud, but he didn’t back away.

"You want to kill me, don’t you ?" House asked, his voice calm but challenging. "But here’s the thing—I’m not afraid of you. You’re just another puzzle to me, another medical anomaly that I’ll figure out eventually."

Jason’s breathing quickened, and for the first time, House could feel a hint of the violence that lay just beneath the surface. He was playing a dangerous game, but that was nothing new. He lived for danger, for the thrill of the unknown. And right now, Jason Voorhees was the ultimate unknown.

"Well," House said, tapping his cane against the floor, "I guess we’ll see who figures out who first."

He turned, limping toward the door. But as he reached for the handle, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder at the motionless giant.

"And by the way," House added with a smirk, "if you ever feel like talking, just let me know. I’d hate for all this silence to go to waste."

With that, he left the room, his mind already working on the impossible mystery that was Jason Voorhees.

…But then, he was accompanied to that very special cell—the one at the very end of the corridor. He leaned heavily on his cane as he limped forward confidently. The security guard walking beside him cast a nervous glance at each locked door they passed, his hand hovering near the baton clipped to his belt.

"You sure about this ?" the guard muttered. "He's...not like the others."

House’s lips curled into a smirk. "They say that about every psycho I meet. They all have their quirks." He glanced up at the flickering lights. "Must be exhausting, constantly being terrified of your own patients."

The guard didn’t respond, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for a large key ring on his belt. They’d arrived at the heavy steel door, which creaked ominously when he unlocked it. A plaque next to the door read: Patient 1A – Myers, Michael.

"He's all yours," the guard said, stepping back.

House pushed the door open and walked in, his cane tapping rhythmically against the cold floor. The room was sparsely furnished, lit by a single, buzzing fluorescent light overhead. Seated in the middle of the room was a large figure, unnervingly still.

Michael Myers.

The infamous killer, clad in a worn, gray jumpsuit, sat motionless in a metal chair, his broad shoulders hunched and his head tilted slightly forward. The white mask he wore—blank and expressionless—was a stark contrast against the shadows that clung to him.

House raised an eyebrow as he observed Michael for a moment. "So...this is what all the fuss is about ?"

No response. Michael remained utterly still, like a statue carved from shadow and silence.

House let out a small sigh of mock exasperation and hobbled closer, flipping open the thin file he had been given before arriving. "Let's see. Killed your sister at six years old. Spent the next few decades in and out of psych wards. Then you got bored, broke out, and went on a murder spree in your charming hometown. Typical family drama. If I had a nickel for every time a patient had a screwed-up childhood…well, I’d probably no longer be a doctor."

Michael’s breathing was steady and slow, the only sign of life in the room besides House’s persistent sarcasm.

"Silent treatment ? That’s fine, I’m used to it after my little talk with Jason earlier." House circled Michael, tapping his cane lightly against the chair’s metal frame. He leaned in, staring into the black void of Michael’s mask. "So, are you the strong, silent type, or is this just an elaborate way to avoid social interaction ? I gotta say, there are easier ways to skip the small talk."

Still nothing. House leaned back, his expression mildly amused. "I’m guessing it’s neurological. No real emotional response. Nothing to explain why you don’t talk, but you seem to like violence. That’s gotta be fun at parties."

He flipped through the file again, shaking his head. "Shot, stabbed, set on fire…Yet here you are, still standing. I hate to admit it, but that’s impressive. Ever thought about teaching a class on survival ?"

As House made another pass around Michael’s chair, the room’s lone light flickered, casting the room into momentary darkness. When the light sputtered back to life, Michael was no longer seated.

He was standing.

House paused, his cane frozen mid-step as he turned slowly to face the now-looming figure of Michael Myers. The masked killer stood mere feet away, his towering form casting a long shadow over House, who looked up at him with a mixture of curiosity and defiance.

"Ah, finally," House said, his voice unfazed by the sudden shift. "For a second there, I thought you might actually be catatonic."

Michael’s hand clenched slightly at his side, the only movement he’d made since standing. House’s sharp blue eyes didn’t miss it, but he didn’t step back. Instead, he cocked his head, scrutinizing the infamous killer like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

"You don’t talk, but you do respond. Interesting," House mused, taking a half-step forward. "So what is it ? Trauma-induced psychopathy ? Genetic predisposition to violence ? Or maybe you're just really misunderstood."

Michael’s hollow mask tilted down slightly as if acknowledging House's proximity, but still, he remained silent. The tension in the room thickened, like the air itself had turned heavier. House could feel it, but instead of fear, his lips curled into a slight grin.

"You know, people keep saying you’re some unstoppable killing machine. Frankly, I’ve met interns scarier than you," House said dryly, gripping his cane a little tighter. He glanced around the room, noting the locked door behind him, the sterile, thick walls. "But I’ve got to admit, I didn’t expect you to be so...tall. Do you go to the gym ? Do they even have a gym around here ? Must have. Seems like most of you guys are shredded."

Michael didn’t move, but his presence felt suffocating, a looming storm about to break. House, ever the gambler, took another step closer, his eyes flicking from Michael’s mask to his hands and back again.

"So, what now ? You gonna try to kill me, big guy ?" House asked, his voice dropping in volume but not losing its edge. "Or are we going to stand here in awkward silence until you get bored ?"

There was a moment—a single, charged moment—where time seemed to stretch. Michael’s hand twitched, ever so slightly, as if preparing to strike. House stood his ground, his cane pressed firmly against the floor, his eyes locked onto the faceless mask before him.

"Look," House said quietly, his voice now laced with something almost resembling sincerity, "I’ve faced worse odds. Hell, I’ve faced death before. But you ? I am not scared of you. You’re just another problem to solve to me. And I love solving problems."

The lights flickered again, casting them both into darkness.

The room plunged into complete darkness, the flickering light casting eerie shadows across the bare walls. House felt the weight of the silence around him, his heartbeat steady, his breath controlled. He was no stranger to danger, no stranger to the edge of death, but something about Michael Myers was different—something primal.

The room plunged into darkness, the flickering light overhead extinguished entirely. For a moment, all House could hear was the sound of his own breathing, punctuated by the soft, rhythmic rasp of Michael Myers’ breath through his mask. The darkness was suffocating, thick with the weight of something dangerous lurking just beyond sight.

House stood perfectly still, his cane pressed into the floor, his senses heightened as he waited. Michael was close—he could feel his presence, the looming menace of the masked killer’s proximity.

Then, a single sound—a metallic scrape—cut through the silence.

The lights sputtered back to life, dim and buzzing, but enough to reveal Michael’s raised hand, fingers wrapped around the hilt of a large makeshift knife made from shattered glass. The blade gleamed in the low light, casting a sharp, menacing glint across the room. Michael’s mask, still blank and emotionless, tilted slightly as if considering his next move.

House, in typical fashion, remained unfazed. If anything, the sight of the blade brought a small, dry smile to his lips. "Ah, there it is," he said, nodding toward the knife. "I was wondering when the stabbing part of our little chat would begin."

Michael’s breathing remained steady, his grip tightening on the knife. He took a step forward, his heavy boots thudding against the floor like the ticking of a countdown.

House didn’t flinch. "You know," he said casually, "most people who resort to violence are compensating for something. Repressed emotions, fear, insecurity." He gestured toward the knife with his cane. "This ? It’s a crutch. But then again, who am I to judge? I have one too."

Michael’s body language shifted slightly, an almost imperceptible tightening of his shoulders. He raised the knife higher, his body coiling like a predator ready to strike.

But House stepped closer, invading the killer’s personal space in a way no one else had ever dared before. His voice lowered to a near whisper, his blue eyes boring into the blank mask. "You don’t scare me, Michael," he said, his words deliberate, calm. "You know why ?"

For the first time, Michael hesitated. The knife, poised to strike, hung in the air, as if something deep within him was listening.

"Because fear is a choice," House continued. "And I choose not to give you that power."

Another beat of silence. Michael’s grip on the knife remained firm, but his hand didn’t move.

House tilted his head, his gaze never leaving Michael’s mask. "You’re not a force of nature. You’re just a man. A man with a lot of damage. Maybe I can’t fix that, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to run from it."

The lights flickered again, casting long shadows across the room. House could feel the tension coiled tightly between them, a fragile line that could snap at any moment. But he wasn’t backing down.

Finally, Michael lowered the knife. It wasn’t a surrender, not in the traditional sense, but it was a pause—a moment of stillness where the chaos that usually followed Michael Myers seemed to dissipate.

House exhaled slowly, the tension easing just enough for him to speak again. "See ? You can make choices too, Michael. You don’t have to be what everyone thinks you are."

For the first time since stepping into the room, House took a step back, his gaze still locked on the towering figure before him. Michael’s mask, blank as it was, seemed to follow his every movement, as if considering the words, weighing them.

"Don’t get me wrong," House said, breaking the silence with a smirk, "I’m not expecting a thank-you card or anything. But at least you’re proving you’ve got a little self-control left."

But then, Michael’s hand shot forward, faster than House could have anticipated. In a blink, his massive hand was wrapped around House’s throat, lifting him slightly off the ground. The doctor gasped, his cane clattering to the floor as Michael held him there, suspended, staring into the empty blackness of the killer's mask.

For a moment, House’s sharp blue eyes flickered with fear, but then—just as quickly—they hardened into something else. Defiance.

His voice was strained but unwavering as he choked out, "So...you do...have a...pulse after all."

Michael squeezed tighter, the air rushing out of House’s lungs as the pressure increased. House clawed at Michael’s hand, his vision starting to blur, but he refused to look away. He refused to let go of that connection, however thin, however dangerous it was.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, Michael released him. House dropped to the ground, gasping for air, clutching at his throat. He coughed, his chest heaving as he sucked in breath after breath, but even in his weakened state, he managed a hoarse chuckle.

"Guess...I hit a nerve," he rasped, his voice rough but still dripping with dark humor.

Michael stepped back, his breathing slow and deliberate, as if nothing had happened. The mask remained impassive, cold. But there was something there—something unspoken in the air between them. A connection. A challenge.

As if on cue, the door behind House creaked open, the guard from before peeking in with wide, terrified eyes. "Doctor...we need to get you out of here. Now."

House turned, glancing over his shoulder at the guard, then back at Michael. He gave a small shrug, his usual irreverence returning. "Well, this has been fun, Mike, but l guess our time is up."

Michael remained motionless, his gaze—or whatever lay behind that mask—following House as he limped toward the door. Before stepping out, House paused, glancing back one last time. "By the way, I wasn’t kidding about the gym thing. You’re in great shape. Keep it up."

The door shut behind him with a heavy thud, locking Michael Myers back into his cage of silence.

As House walked down the corridor, the guard looked at him in disbelief, shaking his head. "I... I can’t believe you just walked out of there alive."

House smirked, his cane tapping the ground rhythmically as they walked. "Please. Michael and I were just having a heart-to-heart. Nothing personal, just another day at the office."

The guard swallowed hard, clearly unconvinced. "He doesn’t have a heart, Doc."

House shrugged, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Maybe. But then again, neither do I."

He smirked.

Something told him he had chosen just the right job…

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #crossover #dr house #slashers #brahms heelshire #jason voorhees #freddy krueger #michael myers

38 notes · View notes

cheerleaderman · 3 months ago

Text

“Have you really found me or am I a fake?”

[SSR] Yuya Florence- Pumpkin King

Yes I made them another card Here’s the first one

Event by me

Also Yuya threw Crowley in the dungeon for 30 minutes as their first decree as King also hope his majesty doesn’t have anything personal against you

I think I’ll use this one to make voice lines about the participates (Oc or any one who makes something for canon characters)

Voice lines under cut

Hopper B has been smashing up my pumpkins! But the one with my face got juice in his eyes ha!

Joseph being a detective is pretty on brand for this event but just what is in that suit case…I need to be careful

Look at all those webs must be from Flori M., I heard she also loves Halloween too! I’ll try to talk to her when the party starts

I can see Reese is dressed up as a butterfly…what are they doing with Kalim?? better stay clear.

Sophie is starting to get frustrated on finding me, Mal had to stop her from pulling her pigtails out after running into another fake

Team Jack-o-lantern has been wearing Sylvie out, why can’t they just have one of them take a break with her while the others run around a bit

Team witches might as well be the winner ugh, I swear finding where I’m at is Kalmia’s sixth sense!…she’s looking my way right now I can feel it.

Malleus has been pretty amused by my tricks, who knows what he has in store for me… I think I been rubbing off on him

Galen has been looking for me in the pumpkin patch, haha to bad many of them have my face on them

Hopper O spotted me earlier but luckily I managed to blend in with the crowd before he could get to second glance

Yumi H is dressed up like a plague doctor, just look at that mask I saw her scaring Riddle a couple of times too

Yumi Y said in her home country that there’s a legend that some objects that are over 100 become Youkais, I’ll ask more about it at the party

Swallow has been eyeing some treasures, he hasn’t pocketed anything yet but if he does it’s to the dungeon with him! It’s one thing to steal from me but not my citizens

Hebe has been more interested in jump scaring people than finding me, don’t tell them this but I had to pretend to be scared when they were scaring people around me

I was just behind Flurin earlier haha I disappeared before he could turn around better luck next time prince

We actually have another chaperone joining us this time he’s name is Zayn, unfortunately for him there will be no finding me quickly

Now that everyone is getting closer Reyu has started to get more competitive will that lead the team to finding my?

Of course Ace is breaking the rules, can’t say I haven’t expected this so I’ll just have to give him extra tricks, hope his team is ready

Have you seen Rebecca’s hair? It must have taken a long time to do…but how long will it take to get out?

#cheer!art #cheer!yuya #cheer!twstcard #findpumpkinking #twst #twst oc #art #twisted wonderland #artists on tumblr #twisted wonderland oc #oc art #digital art #twst fanevent #twisted wonderland fanevent

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oreo102 · 5 months ago

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Not really an ask but a mutual complaint. I don't get why because 14 settled down and 15 is "healed" that we're supposed to be OK that they got to find love and happiness easily but 13 didn't.

We’re supposed to be okay with it because no one likes 13. The majority of the fandom either won’t give her a chance because of bad faith criticism or are the ones making it. I had someone tell me before I even started watching her, after I mentioned that if I were to watch Dr who, it’d be her, tell me that I wouldn’t like her because the writing was atrocious(it’s not).

13 can’t even have a relationship with the woman who she said she wants to spend eternity with (or smth of the like in legend of the sea devil), can’t kiss, can’t hold hands, can’t even hug! Yaz and 13 hug a single time unless I’m remembering wrong, which is as likely as it isn’t with how much I’ve watched her era.

But 14 gets to settle down with Donna and her family. He gets to have a tardis and his old bestie from like 1000 years ago, he gets to heal. He gets what everyone and their mom wanted 10 to get. He gets a happy ending.

And 15 gets to mention his trauma in a light tone, he doesn’t have the crushing weight of guilt every other doctor had, no, he’s healed! He gets to go on silly little adventures with his best friend who is actually super mysterious and that’s a totally good thing to hold up like a treat to a fucking mutt. They get to hug! 3 times in one episode. I remember that specifically because every time it happened I felt a pang of annoyance and pettiness.

This isn’t to say I don’t like 15. I really do like him, he’s fun and he’s really the only reason I’d continue watching the newest season. I just- can’t juggle my love and loyalty to 13(srsly I’ve had to stop myself from starting fights multiple times in the last 24 hours) with seeing him get what she never did.

I understand why they brought David tenant back. He is a great ways to get views, the majority of people really love him and I know at least my mom watched she specials especially to see him, my friend started watching Dr who bc they love him. I just wish they would’ve given 13 a happier ending. I wish they would MENTION yaz. Even if not by name. It’d be easy- really it would, have them spend some time in the tardis- have Ruby touch something and 15 be like “no touching- only one human is allowed to fly her” or smth like that (idc if that’s wrong. I don’t. Don’t comment telling me if this is wrong.)

We’re supposed to be fine with 13’s ending be bittersweet, when the doctor after her gets an almost too perfect happy ending, and 15 gets to be healed from his trauma (not how trauma works) because they don’t care. They don’t care about 13, they don’t care about yaz, they don’t care about thasmin fans, they don’t care about fans they got with her, they just don’t care. And that’s- fine. But I won’t watch his series

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sallys-fanart · 5 months ago

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Sorry if already been done, but I am collapsing inside my brain making up connections between everythinggg.

I think Rogue is an Osirian / descendant of the Osirians? His ship is the most Egyptian thing I ever saw in my life, looks like a falcon - reminiscent of Horus, who I think in the Whoniverse is some hybrid rebirth of Osiris, who competed with Sukhet for leadership of their people? I didn’t read/listen/watch the thing that came from. I remember thinking at the time “that is one Egyptian looking ship, wonder who he nicked it from.”

And the ship is WAITING in orbit around the moon rn. The one who waits - not he/she who waits, but ‘the one’… not a person, but a ship?!

And Mrs Flood! The flooding of the Nile was associated with rebirth, rejuvenation, life… and is made from the tears of Isis, mother of Horus… because she’s so sad about Osiris (Horus’ dad) being killed by Set, aka Sutekh. The coming of the flood is kinda the harbinger for Osiris, representing his restoration?? I think?? So Mrs Flood is the Harbinger of life/rebirth? Isis is the goddess of life and rebirth, so the perfect poetic answer to Sutekh.

Spanner in the works: I still love the Iris Wildthyme theory, because the 4th wall breaking is just so extreme I don’t see who else it could be. Would it be mad to suggest Isis Wildthyme?? Iris was never a Time Lord, but a regenerating Osirian Isis?? Also side note but why is she so evil-coded in the Legend of Ruby Sunday?? “We’d all like a lot of things that aren’t going to happen??” Ok mate. She only asked for a cuppa, you bellend. (yes, denial of tea is a strictly evil character trait, don’t argue with me on this one.)

Also, why was Rogue so confident he could survive long enough for the Doctor to find him in an unknown dimension? - because he’s Osirian or part Osirian, and has a loooonnnnng life, just like our timelord pal. Or, he is Isis, reborn a bunch o’ times and gender swapped in this regeneration. Or he was the companion of an Osirian Horus/Iris doctor-type character, who was lost… (Am I putting bets on everything, all at the same time? Yes. Yes I am. Can’t believe the Sutekh Truthers were right. I wanna be right one time pls.)

And why give the ring? Similarity to Horus giving Ankh to the Pharaoh - for protection. Or because he knows his Horus ship can find him, activated by the ring? inb4 Doccyboye has to find Rogue to defeat Sutekh with the power of love life.

While we’re on the ring, wtf is the symbol on it? I saw someone calling it a dagger because of Rogue, but it doesn’t look like a dagger to me. I tried isolating shapes, looks kinda like a bird with sun disk type thing on top? Or ropes, a knot? Lots of potential for Egyptian symbolism, maybe relating to Isis, Horus or Wadjet? An amulet of protection for the Doctor?

Thank you for coming to my TEDrant.

#doctor who #doctor who season 1 #sukhet #doctor who fan theory #osirian #rogue #rogue is horus #horus ship #the ship is the one who waits #the ring is ankh-like #mrs flood #the flood symbolises life/rebirth #it’s all coming together #or I’m mad #probably the latter #why was mrs flood so evil-coded tho #the legend of ruby sunday

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poussacha · 15 days ago

Text

My Maxley Fics Masterpost

✨🎆the rise and fall of a midwest love affair series

[the man, the myth, the legend. The series I'm writing based on Chappell Roan's Midwest Princess Album. A story for most tracks (some of them are mashups).]

[This series does not need to be read in order whatsoever, they're all independent of one another (allegedly)]

hit it like it's hot to go

Rated E | F/F Genderbent Maxley | 17,477 Words | Complete

Summary: It’s pitch black and from the booth she can only really make out flashes of light and a writhing mass of bodies. Their voices lift to sing in unison with the music she’s broadcasting while their bodies undulate like live wires.

This is the part she loves most about playing in clubs. The drunken, writhing mass of voices that lend her their ears. They listen to her heavy-handed remixes, her mash-ups, her house beats all without a single complaint. For a moment, she controls their narrative, holding them captive with a beat.

She’s three quarters of the way through her set when her least favorite part about playing in clubs rears its ugly head. In the form of a wasted brunette with long curly hair and a sneer.

“Can you play a song with a fucking beat ?”

Max is a DJ at a club Brittney (Bradley) frequents with her finance bro boyfriend. Brittney tries her damndest to be obnoxious. Max might just be endeared toward her anyway.

Tags: DJ AU, homophobic slurs, minor violence from a fist fight, internalised homophobia, lesbians, jumpscare het sex, man attacking a woman, implied/referenced domestic abuse, explicit sexual content, degradation kink, vers characters, praise kink, tongue piercings, angst, heartbreak, cheating, genderbent

Song: Femininomenon To Go Mashup

Playlist(s):

hit it like it's hot to go (official)

After Midnight

Rated T | M(IN)/F College AU (Trans Masc!Intersex!Bradley x Cis!Fem! Max) | 104,757 Words | Incomplete, ongoing

Updates on all days ending on 7 and on most days that are multiples of 7

Summary: It’s Max’s first year at university. She arrives on campus with her two best friends PJ and Bobby in Bobby’s beat up sleeper van from the 1970s that reeks of musk, weed, and boy sweat. She doesn’t know yet what this year has in store, but she hopes it’s something to remember.

Bradley is in his final year in law school. Just trying to graduate, pass the bar, and move on with his life. That is, until someone comes along to change his perspective.

Tags: CHEATING, INFIDELITY, AGE GAP, College AU, genderbent, fem!Max Goof, fem!PJ Pete, masc!Bobby Zimmeruski, fem!Roxanne Rover, fem!Stacey, trans!Bradley Uppercrust III, intersex!Bradley Uppercrust III, masc!Tank, no x-games, underage drinking, marijuana use, falling asleep in precarious situations, fist fight, harrassment, masturbation, shotgunning, fishing trips, San Francisco, indulgent touching, body worship, body dysmorphia, semi-nudity, tws at the top of every chapter

Song: After Midnight

Playlist(s):

After Midnight (Official)

Gamma Mu Mu House Party Playlist

& if you let me, i would've loved you always

California

Rated E | M/M Doctor!Bradley x Disabled!Dancer!Max AU | 18,851 Words | Incomplete

WARNING: DUB-CON, DEAD DOVE

Summary: Max Goof is at the prime of his life. He’s finally realized his dream of becoming the main dancer and choreographer for his favorite singer of all time, Powerline. That is, until an accident brings everything crashing down in an instant.

Leading to him to return home to Ohio, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

Will he find peace back home with his dad? Or will being back in Ohio only complicate things more?

Tags: blow jobs, bathroom sex, public sex, disabling incident, characters with disabilities, ableism, toxic relationships, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, incomplete spinal cord injury, polyamory, angst, wheelchair user max goof, canonically disabled della duck, discussions of medical insurance, allusions to drug abuse, eating disorders, slow burn, EXTREMELY DUBIOUS CONSENT, DUBIOUS MORALITY, POWER IMBALANCE, semi-public sex, prostate examinations, erectile dysfunction

Song: California

Playlist(s):

i'm never gonna get the things i want the most

🐩Standalone Maxley Fics

i just wanna sweet talk for awhile

Rated E | M/M Canon Divergent Post X-Games AU | 2,975 Words | Complete

Summary: They were always fighting. Two sides diametrically opposed. Except, as perfect opposites, they find themselves pulled together like magnets. Until they can't deny their chemistry.

Tags: fluff, self indulgent, frottage, frotting, inexperienced bradley uppercrust iii, experienced max goof, bottom bradley uppercrust iii, top max goof, soft boys, shockingly gentle to be something written by me, body worship, gentle words

Song: Sugar High

take it like a taker

Rated E | M/M Canon Divergent Post X-Games BDSM AU | 5,777 Words | Complete

Summary: Bradley's breath is quiet, measured. Muscles tensing beneath Max's fingertips, illuminated by the warm orange glow of candlelight, as he deftly loops ropes in simple patterns around his upper thigh and ankle. Until his legs bend open, splayed

His wrists are next. A simple double column across both arms and up through the center. OR

The shibari and wax play fic nobody asked for

Tags: shibari, wax play, porn without plot, BDSM, dom max, sub bradley, hurt/comfort, sub drop, panic, aftercare, bradley is the biggest brat, humans because getting wax out of fur sounded painful, max might be a brat tamer if you squint, self-indulgent, body worship, rimming

Song: The Giver

🐕🐩🐕‍🦺Braxanne (Bradley/Max/Roxanne) OT3 Fics

i'm so obsessed with your ex

Rated E | M/M/F Mean Girls/Swap AU (Boy Next Door!Bradley x Homeschooled!Max x Queen Bee!Roxanne) | 19,324 Words | Complete

Summary: Max moves to Spoonerville after spending his formative years traveling around the world with his dad and his stepmom to study weather phenomena. Specifically lightning storms. He runs into a bit of a storm himself when Brad Uppercrust and Roxanne Rover both take a liking to him at the same time.

Tags: Mean Girls AU if you squint, Brad is the boy next door, Roxxane is the Queen Bee, this a brad and roxanne swap AU, surprise, max is a virgin, roxanne wants him bibilically, so does brad, brad and roxanne are bitter (?) exes, halloween parties, threesomes, explicit sex, teasing, praise kink, multiple orgasms, underage drinking, everyone is 18, but this takes place in the us so, MMF threesome

Song: Obsessed

Playlist(s):

i'm so obsessed with your ex

🛹⭐Sw00ney Brobert Swap AU fics (not maxley)

Brad Crust x Robert Zimmeruski

More from the Swap AU here on Sw00ney's ig

bite your tongue or i'll do it for you

Rated E | M/M | 2,007 Words | Complete

Summary: Brad convinced Robert to do something stupid again, this is the aftermath of their latest near-death experience.

Tags: they're so unhinged in this, degradation kink, brat on deck, going in dry, sort of, begging, wacky power dynamics, dirty talk, they're so mean to each other, but it's love i swear, established relationship, robert is a rich boy, brad's just a teenage dirtbag baby, i had too much fun writing this

Song: Good Hurt

Art for this fic by kofiracha!

beautiful boy, your words are made of poetry

Rated E | M/M | 1,457 Words | Incomplete

Summary: Bobby comes over to yell at Brad for something he (allegedly) didn't do only to find him suffering from an intense migraine.

Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: slow updates, migraines, hurt/comfort

Song: Sugar High

🐱‍🏍🐛Other AEGM fics (that aren't maxley)

Bobby x Max

open our bodies, i quietly knock on your door

Rated E | M/M (Trans!Masc!Max x Cis!Masc!Bobby) | 1,902 Words | Complete

Summary: "Fuck," Max says, coughing a little at the tail end of his latest hit. His voice echoes in his head, making him feel like he's at the crossroads of a hundred different timelines. Consciousness dipping and floating through each. Like he's the doorway of time. "What did you say this was?"

"OG Blueberry Creme," Bobby drawls, voice slow like syrup. He takes the blunt when Max passes it back to him, raising it to his lips to take another hit. "One of my all-time favorite highs, man."

Bobby and Max get high and fool around in his van. That's it, that's the fic.

Tags: porn without plot, explicit sex, cum play, marijuana use, having sex under the influence, established relationship, van sex, trans Max Goof

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casp1an-sea · 2 months ago

Text

people often talk about the weird things in Star Wars legends, so let’s talk about the weird things that are actually Cannon.

There is a Cross over arc between the Star Wars comics, and the doctor Aphra comics, where Aphra coerces Luke into teaming up with her to help her unlock an ancient Jedi relic that she really has no intention of allowing Luke to use. She hands Luke over as a gift to some Queen on a weird planet because she’s obsessed with Jedi things, in return for said queen unlocking the artifact for her.

anyway, the weird part of this book is the queen is some sort of life force vampire. Every night she feasts on the life force of her citizens, and since Luke is force sensitive, she is obsessed with drinking his life force. At one point she is successful in capturing Luke, as well as Han, because Han was being stupid as shit. And then she hooks luke up to this machine that somehow turns his life force into a liquid, and then she drinks it.

she also has a whole bunch of these really dangerous brain parasites that are kind of like giant bugs, so I’m scared how they get into your head. the visuals were quite disgusting but I just don’t know how they can even fit in there, but anyway, she infects Han with one of these, and also forces him to drink some of Luke’s life force, which raises is a lot of questions, that are, of course, never elaborated on.

but anyway, the parasite basically allows the queen to control. Han through a hive mind, but I guess drinking Luke’s life force allowed him to still have some cognitive function rather than being a mindless zombie, but he’s evil. It was actually very interesting, though I had a hard time, keeping a straight face while listening to Han be evil. Unfortunately, thought Leia somehow got him to switch sides by talking to him? I don’t know it got very confusing at the end. But all I’m saying is evil Han didn’t last long enough.

Then they rescue Luke, or Luke rescues himself I can’t really remember. He also got infected by a brain parasite at one point, but he beat it with the force so was never really turned evil.

also, Dr. Aphra’s murder droids are with them, and for some reason, Leia trusts Trip to get the parasite out of Han unsupervised. And it is mentioned that Trip ended up (tw: kinda graphic) cutting a hole in Han’s head, while he was fully conscious, because Leia did not specify to sedate or numb him… it’s very on brand for trip, but Jesus fucking Christ

also, the art alternates between two artists I believe, and it is wildly inconsistent. Sana’s hair switches between an Afro and dreads, some of the volumes give the queen pupils some of them don’t, in some evil Han has his normal clothes, and others. He has the uniform of the queens guard. It was kind of annoying. I still love the book for how bat shit crazy it is though. And it’s also pretty funny.

Oh and of course, Luke is again questioning if he has a crush on every single girl that is nice to him (you know because he doesn’t know he’s gay yet) and Sana had to break it to him that Aphra is a lesbian

—————————————————————————

The books are

The Screaming Citadel 1

Star Wars (2015) 31

Doctor Aphra (2016) 7

Star Wars (2015) 32

Doctor Aphra (2o16) 8

All of these books are available as free audio comics on YouTube. They are very well made :)

#starwars #star wars comics #star wars canon #han solo #luke skywalker #leia organa #sana starros #doctor aphra

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quietwingsinthesky · 3 months ago

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hiiii ok hands you dr who for once in my gay and evil life… consider: tenrose post doomsday where rose stays behind. and it’s horrible. you know that one jackie lone where she’s like “someday there’s gonna be a woman on an alien planet but she won’t even be human?” yeah. imagine her ten years on (subjective) and she’s this halfway to terrifying permanent fixture in space and time, this halfway goddess. imagine she’s at distance. so far removed from the people she’s no longer herself. they save people but it’s just a job, you know? it’s happenstance. they’re terrifying like that — the way they save people like it’s nothing. they’re legends in the worst kind of way.

ten is scared of her, i think.

YEAH YEAH YEAH YOU GET HER YOU GET HERRR rose tyler goddess girl <3

Rose used to enjoy her own mythology, vain and playful, Don’t you know us, he’s the Doctor, I’m his big Bad Wolf.

It glides off of her now, both adoration and fear. It’s expected. They are owed for what they are.

She’s still Rose, but Rose means someone new with each passing year. She stands beside him and slips through his fingers a hundred times, and a new Rose takes his hand a hundred more. He loves her, and he wishes she’d left him, and he doesn’t think the universe would survive either of them if they parted ways now.

#ask #fanfiction #sunday prompts #doctor who #tenrose #tenth doctor #rose tyler

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year ago

Text

10th doctor x reader - the stars in your eyes

Part 4:

You finally managed to find the doctor, and you burst into the room to find him on the ground, a human stood over him and the trail led to the human.

“Well isn’t this a surprise.” She mused.

She turned around and looked at you, and you both had a stare down for a quiet moment.

“Impossible…”

You glanced at the doctor and you walked over to him, crouching down above his head, and you touched his face.

You sat down and pulled his head into your lap, placing your hand on his chest.

“You’re… no…” she whispered.

“You killed him…”

“Don’t hurt me…”

You raised your hand, sealing over the door, creating a direct portal into a black hole.

“I don’t kill people like you, but they’re coming this way. I don’t have long and I want answers.”

The alien quickly nodded her head in fear.

“Why didn’t they kill me?”

“Nothing will, if there’s one thing the whole universe is terrified off, it’s the child of the universe, anyone smart enough your realise that they stand no chance against you.”

You narrowed your eyes a little bit, and took your glasses off.

You looked at the doctor, and you placed both your hands over his hearts, putting the energy from him back into them.

Then you looked up.

“How does everyone know of me but him?”

“There’s stories, legends, but nobody really believed you existed. Every planet will have its myths, including earth.”

“What else?”

You looked towards the doorway and removed your barrier, and turned back to her.

“Get me out of here I’ll tell you everything.”

“Not happening, they’re already here.”

You turned your attention to the doctor, and you sighed as you saw the stardust returning to his body, but you still couldn’t feel his hearts beating.

“Doctor!”

You snapped your eyes up and looked at the woman in front of you and she fell backward in shock.

“Duel hearts.” Was all you said.

You jumped up and put your glasses back on and began to looked around as the aliens left.

Oxygen was going to run out, and the machine behind you was still running.

“Don’t tell anyone about my eyes.” You warned.

You ran into the next room, carefully looking at the wires and your hands trembled as you tried to make them out and you couldn’t.

One wrong move and everything was gone, but you couldn’t make out the wires.

You couldn’t make out physical objects, and as your hands touched both of them you realised there was no way to tell the difference.

With trembling hands, you slowly reached out and picked on up, holding it between your hands.

Either you would disable the whole thing, or you’d blow everything up.

You went to pulled them apart when someone next to you yanked the other one apart and took the other from your hands.

“Are you insane?!” He whisper yelled.

You clenched your jaw a little bit, and you heard struggles for breath, so you jumped up, completely ignoring the doctor.

“Martha!”

He stumbled to her side and picked her up, and you held the doors for him as you both tried to find oxygen.

Though you didn’t need it, you were pretending that you did, but you found you had no issue breathing at all.

Finally the hospital was returned, and you left through a side door to avoid all the press and people outside, and in the way you lost the doctor.

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, he sounded pretty angry with you.

You sighed, and stuffed your hands in your pockets, and you sat down opposite the hospital.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?”

You snapped your head to the side and watched carefully as the woman sat down, then you turned away and rested your head in your arms.

“It’s rude to just walk up to people and ask that, I don’t even know your name.”

“Sorry, I’m Martha, I take it you’re (Y/N)?”

“How’d you know?”

Martha sighed a little.

“The doctors looking for you and he seems real angry, is this about your eyes?”

You nodded.

“In a way yes. He doesn’t know, and you can never, ever tell him Martha. But yes, it’s related to my eyes.”

“What is it?”

You glanced around, noticing that you two were the only two in the area, and you looked at her.

“In a way I’m blind, I can’t see what you see. I can’t distinguish objects or people, for the most part I’ve learned how to deal with it. But sometimes I can’t figure out what’s what.” You explained.

“I’m a doctor in training, I can take a look if you want?”

You laughed bitterly and shook your head.

“It’s not something you can fix, it’s pretty self explanatory actually. But go ahead, take a good look.”

You reached up and took your glasses off, your eyes boring into hers and Martha slowly lowered the little torch in her hand.

She was captivated immediately by them, and the ever changing patterns, the deep colour.

“So you can’t see at all?” She asked.

“I can see somewhat but what I see isn’t what you see, I don’t see shapes or objects or people. I see what makes them, stardust, everything is made of stardust, that’s what I see, but I can’t make these things out.”

“I get it, so you’re blind, you have no sight. Did you ever see?”

“I used to, when I was little.”

You put your glasses back on and turned away from her.

“You can’t tell the doctor Martha, or anyone. I only told you because you saw.”

“What are you…?”

“One of a kind.”

“Are you an alien?”

“Not exactly.”

“I’m not an alien, I’m not human either.”

You titled your head back to start at the sky.

“They call me the child of the universe.”

“I suppose myths can be true.”

“What?”

You snapped your head to Martha.

“Every culture, all through earths history there’s been stories pass in about the child of the universe. About you.”

“You have to help me research all of them.”

“There’s hundreds of thousands, all in different languages.”

“Travel with the doctor, the TARDIS translates all languages. Please Martha, I know you want to travel with him anyways.”

She laughed a little.

“I think you should talk to him though.”

Martha went quiet and you took a small breath as you got up to wordlessly follow the doctor to the TARDIS, and Martha followed after you.

“You could’ve killed everyone!” The doctor snapped.

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t see!” You snapped back.

“Did you even think about what you were doing?! Did you just grab a random set of wires and decide that’s good enough!”

“Sorry forgive me for not being able to see.” You mocked.

“What does that even mean?! I could see it!”

“Doctor…” Martha mumbled.

He glanced at her then back to you.

“Well?!”

You clenched your jaw a bit.

“Don’t tell at me doctor, you’re not all that good yourself.”

“Don’t turn this on me, that was a close call!”

“We all have close calls!”

“And you’re a nearly got people killed!”

“I was trying to help you!”

“You shouldn’t have touched anything at all!”

“You were dead doctor, what the hell was I supposed to do let it blow?! At least I tried!”

“Instead of guess you should’ve looked at it! Did you even look at anything in that room?!”

“No doctor because my damn eyes don’t work! I’m sorry I fucked up it won’t happen again!”

“You’re right it won’t! You’re not leaving my side next time!”

You scoffed, he seemed to completely skip the first part of your sentence.

“No it won’t happen again because I’m leaving!”

You slammed your hand against the railing and spun around, fed up of being scolded like a child.

You stormed out of the TARDIS.

“Doctor!”

“Martha!”

The doctor turned to her.

“She’s blind.”

The doctors face went from angry to shocked in a split second.

“W..what..?”

“(Y/N)s blind doctor, I checked.”

“No… she can get around…”

“Blind people can adjust just like anyone else can.”

The doctor glanced at the door then back to Martha.

“She’s blind?”

“She was upset about what happened, she tried to help she really did. She’s the one who kept your hearts beating until I got there.”

All his anger faded away, and he was filled with regret.

“Will you wait here?”

“Of course, try where we were sitting.” Martha smiled.

The doctor ran out of the TARDIS to look for you.

He went back to where you were sat but you weren’t there, and he looked around, catching the glimpse of you walking around a corner.

So he ran after you.

“(Y/N)!”

He ran around the corner and you stopped, and he walked over, walking around you and he stood in front of you.

“You’re blind…?” He whispered.

You said nothing and you walked around him, and he reached out gently grasping your wrist.

“Wait, don’t go yet please? Can we talk?”

“Fine, but at least someone privet.”

The doctor agreed and took you back to the TARDIS.

He had some questions for you, and he needed to apologise for loosing his temper as well and hopefully you would decide to stay

#doctor who #doctor who x y/n #doctor who x you #doctor who x reader #doctor who imagine #tenth doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #tenth doctor x y/n #tenth doctor imagine

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