#dt ficlet prompts

[quite-right-too]

20 Questions Game

Thank you for the tag @demdifferentstories-29 I want to add that most of my old works on AO3 have since been deleted unfortunately so I'm basically starting from scratch on here.

How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 4 (but I have some plans for more)

2. What's your total AO3 words count?

15,718

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I write almost exclusively for Doctor Who but I'm considering doing other DT crossovers like Broadchurch.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I only have four up right now so I'll just list them in order from most to least.

Dona Nobis Pacem (TenRose modern AU)

TenRose Ask Box Ficlets (ongoing inbox prompt ficlets)

Last Words (post-Journey's End nightmare drabble)

Grand Finale (one shot of @sneakertin's dark!Tentoo AU)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I will always respond to comments. I love the engagement and being able to talk to the readers of my silly little stories. The validation really gets me in the mood to write more.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That title will easily go to Grand Finale because it's DARK. Chapter 17 in TenRose Ask Box Ficlets is also really heartbreaking.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Dona Nobis Pacem is still a WIP but it will be having a happy ending, I promise.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't really written enough to get any hate yet, but I do get a lot of heartbroken readers when I post angst.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I haven't but I do have some planned for the WIP I have going on right now.

It'll be F/M simply because that's the ship I write for and how my fics are written. I don't know if I'll write any F/F or M/M in the future, but it's always a possibility.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have no yet, but wait til y'all see all the little things in my brain.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't believe so but you never know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I can confidently say that I have not.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't done a legitimate co-written fic yet. I would love to, but I'm not entirely sure of how it would go, especially since most of my work in the past has been educationally related and I've been the sole person working on it.

However, the wonderful @demdifferentstories-29 has been beta-ing Dona Nobis Pacem and she has added a substantial amount to it so I would basically consider it a co-writing situation. Lily is an amazing author and I'm legitimately still giddy to have one of my favorite fic writers beta-ing my silly little thing.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

All time favorite ship will always be TenRose. Obviously, TentooRose is in there mixed in, but that's simply semantics. He IS the Doctor so...

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I don't know that I have one that I don't intend on finishing, but I always worry that my muse will just disappear on me and I won't be able to finish the few that I have started right now.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think that my angst is pretty damn good. I used to do a bit of writing for an old OC RP I used to do and the angst of that was heavy.

Also, making sure things are accurate. Doing my research, reaching out to more knowledgable people on the topic who can better assist, and just overall covering my bases to make things as realistic, accurate, and respectful as possible.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm more of an essay/research proposal writer versus a novel writer, which means I have a lot of issues with telling and not showing. Another major issue is, again, being able to give accurate and intimate descriptions of the actual scene so the readers are able to visualize it themselves.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don't know that I would do great since I would have to rely on Google Translate for it, but I would absolutely be willing to add it in there.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It has always been Doctor Who. I know my old fics are still on this blog somewhere, as well as probably on my old laptop wherever it is.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

The obvious answer would be Dona Nobis Pacem, but I have a lot of plans for the Grand Finale AU in the future. That is one I'm super excited to work on this coming winter.

Tagging: @thirdeyeblue @tenroseforeverandever @rudennotgingr @lastbluetardis @gingerteaonthetardis

[natalynsie]

Basically Everything to Know.

Hi! I'm Natie, I use she/her pronouns. I post mostly fanfiction but I occasionally post other things too. My AO3 and Writing Feedback Form (if you've read any of my fics, I would appreciate you taking the form) are both liked in my bio, along with my sideblog where I reblog stuff! and talk a lot!

Requests are allowed! Send me a request with a prompt and a ship! If If you don't know a prompt, you can just ask for a ship. I'll write a oneshot for you! Use the SEND ME A REQUEST to send anything (questions are also allowed). I won't write everything I get asked, only what I have motivation and interest for.

My sideblog is for reblogs and shitposts. This blog is for fanfiction, polls, and reblogging stuff that's important (like spreading awareness). Although my old posts probably have some dumb shitposts on them. SEND ME FIC REQUESTS ON MAIN! SEND ME DUMB ASKS ON MY SIDEBLOG! I'll probably still answer them if you send them on the wrong account, but if you can try submitting to the correct blog that will help me out. Thank you!

Fanfic lengths -> Ficlet -> less than 1000 word oneshot Oneshot -> 1000-5000 word oneshot. Oneshot with a preview and link to read in full on AO3 -> greater than 5000 word oneshot Multi-chapter stories will only have the links.

Right now, I'm pretty much only posting Total Drama stuff. If you followed me for TOH or SVTFOE or DT, you should probably unfollow. I doubt I'm going to talk about them for a long time.

On my AO3, it's clear I have series for every total drama fic I write. Certain fics are connected through that series. On Tumblr, I tag everything under the series name. I have two currently, so theres a tag for each series:

"natie wawanakwa high school fics" - Wawanakwa High School series, Noah/Cody. Complete.

"natie hometown fics" - Hometown series, being rewritten currently only Alejandro/Tyler. Incomplete.

and of course "natie old hometown fics" is the original series with Cody/Trent and Courtney/Gwen. Marked as complete because I won't be writing any more for it.

Anyways, bye!

[weightoftomorrow]

Prompt #1: Steer

I'm writing a DT au! So heavy spoilers for the second half of the expansion. i fully expect this au to be completely rendered invalid by patch content since that ALWAYS happens buuuuut I wanted to write it anyway

As Erenville reassured Wawlika, Qaha's felt… a tickle of something from the Echo.

That was strange. It had never done that before.

While the three engineers talked, Qahs'a examined that feeling. He still hadn't figured out the shape of whatever the Echo was trying to say when Erenville suggested he finish whatever he wanted to see in Shaaloani, but…

He thought he should talk to Namikka.

No.

He should…. ask her to swap?

No.

The Echo was muddied and confused. It wasn't like the Echo normally was, giving him only one path to follow. It wanted him to follow Erenville, to see Namikka off to Yyasulani, and presumably take the next train, but…

He could see another way forward, and it scared him.

What was hidden, in Yyasulani, that had the Echo focusing on it?

He made his decision.

Slowly, he turned, and walked back to Namikka.

to be clear: i conceptualize the Echo as some sort of force or sense that replicates the MSQ tracker fairly closely. while things happen, the Echo is basically leading the WoL by the nose around, and sometimes it gets unnervingly effective; there's definitely times where things SHOULD be happening but if you run off and do side quests then no time passes for the main quest even tho that's nonsensical. obviously there's downtime periods, but those are always clearly signposted by the quests anyway. strictly speaking there's a few places the MSQ splits, but iirc every occurrence of that it's pretty clear you're going to end up doing both. i'll probably write a separate ficlet about the weird time shenangians Later, it's half written in my head

[mellicose]

DT Ficlet Prompts bts

I’m getting so much Campbell love in the asks ... the smutty kind.

You’re all so thirsty for him, even after 25 years. 

I love it.

EDIT: link to the smutty ficlet: 

uglywettiewrites.tumblr.com/post/187861777542/campbell-uhhh-smut-and-panting

(just add https: and off you go!)

[coffeeheartaddict2]

Masterlist

This is updated and a little more organised than my previous one.

Crimes of Passion Masterlist

All fics for Crimes of Passion will be found here.

Meet my MC- Casey Valentine

One shots- canon divergent / Au’s

All of these are somewhat based in canon. Some of the events that occurred happened and some did not.

Last Case or is it?

I think this one was my first ever fic- written because I had an idea in my head and well I wrote it. Set late book 2.

Of all the OR’s you check this one

An imagining of Esme not getting out of her lawsuit and few other things. Again I had an idea and ran with it.

Road trip home

Set in the period of time after Leland buys the hospital and the hospital reopening.

Here with me

My attempt at a Christmas fluff piece

Darkest hour

***trigger warning- mentions of non violent abuse, unplanned pregnancy, abortion****

Ethan rounds out about A previous relationship that Casey was involved in and a pregnancy in which she gave the baby up for adoption

Sunshine on a rainy day

Part 2 to darkest hour. Ethan and Casey deal with the fallout from Casey’s confession.

When life gets in the way

Prompt event based on the Greys anatomy scene where Derek and Meredith do a post ir wedding

Every body Hurts Sometimes

An open heart AU based on an ask. Blanket trigger warning applies for the whole series as it will deal with issues of abandonment and addiction.

One shots/ prompts (non divergent*)

All fics here are prompts or one shots that are within canon or in Tashland up until the end of book 2

Burden or expectation

Tobias visits his mother and has a rather heated confrontation with his dad

Reset be Damned

Ethan wakes up from a vivid dream, set after the softball game

Crescendo

Post opera from Ethan’s POV

Can’t help falling in love

Set in book one, different points leading upto Miami from the pov of Ethan about his developing feelings

Why her?

Prompt set post Miami. Inner musings of Ethan Ramsey

Bittersweet

It is Valentine’s Day in Casey’s intern year.

Sweet relief

Ethan’s POV after telling Casey about Naveen

Finally

POV Ethan from when he quits to the beginning of the Ethics Hearing

Mornings After

Ethan pov of key points in their relationship

Desire

Post country club Casey POV

A guarantee

Casey stumbles on a letter that Ethan wrote in the Amazon. Set post attack while she is staying at Ethan’s

Real Talk

Casey and Ethan discuss further his regrets around the time of his Amazon sojourn and further clear the air.

Honestly I love you

Post softball game kiss from Casey perspective

At Last

A brief ficlet set between my rewrite of book 2 and part 1 of when egos collide. Ethan and Casey are fully in the open

Safe Harbour

Casey receives a text from someone in her past which leads to a discussion about her past

Times like These

Ethan seeks some comfort with Casey after a confronting session with his mother.

A rock and a hard place

Ethan deals with making a decision about how much of a relationship he wants to have with Louise.

Short series’s

Change of Heart

A short series focussing on Tobias Carrick and June Hirata

Part 1. Part 2: Ⓜ️

These three start off in Miami and end during the first DT interaction in book. A prequel of sorts to for the fortune favours the brave series.

Winter of his discontent

Coda. Crescendo

Bridge over troubled waters

This is a four part series that is set in book two, ch7 through to Dagger mountain, the beginning of. I was inspired to write these whilst writing When Egos Collide.

Fortune favours the brave

Some things are worth the risk

Controlling what we can control

Begin Again

This life

Starting from when Louise left to end of book 2 in Tashland. A from Ethan perspective of how Louise leaving him shaped his attitude and how certain people helped him change.

**** Trigger Warning - this series deals with issues of abandonment and and addiction. Reader discretion advised****

Book 2 ch14-20 rewrite 2023

An update of my original rewrite of book 2, chapters 14-20. This rewrite is what happened in Tashland and is the updated version of what O wrote in 2020.

This rewrite has Mature content, this is denoted with Ⓜ️

When Egos Collide

My rewrite of book 3, started off as being an alternate reality but turned into a rewrite of book 3.

When Egos collide and post series

All fictions in this section will occur within the When Egos collide timeline and after the end of When Egos Collide series.

A night at the opera

Casey and Ethan attend the opera

A new friendship

Beginning of Casey and Tobias’s friendship

Clearing the Air

An expansion of the scene in WEC part 11 at the bar in Hawaii. Tobias and Ethan have a long overdue chat about their past.

Friends Again

Short Drabble leading to the end of when egos collide. Artwork by @bayleedrawsx

Trick or Treat

Casey seduces Ethan in his home office for Halloween

Requiem to a dream

Sexual content Ethan has a dream which leads to an intense sexual encounter.

Just Deserts

Started off as an inbox ask and decided to turn it into a fix. NSFW content

To Casey and Ethan

Multiple perspective on the engagement celebration of Ethan and Casey

Good Interruption

Ethan returns home from a business trip early to surprise Casey. NSFW CONTENT

Awkward

Tobias walks in on Ethan and Casey having sex

Persuasion

Casey persuades Ethan to have a combined Bachelor/bachelorette trip NSFW content

Afternoon delight

Casey has had a busy day and she receives a surprise from Ethan

Sin City

Dr “Caveman” Ramsey comes out to play during the combined Bachelor/bachelorette party

Adventures with Dwight Theodore Lewis III

Prompt request. Ethan and Tobias reminiscing about medical school

The Miami Redux

Ethan and Casey celebrate their first wedding anniversary in Miami. NSFW content

Better days

**trigger warning** this fic contains mention of pregnancy loss and mental health. If this is triggering for you then please do not read this fic.

Cruel summer

Casey’s mum comes to visit after her missed miscarriage

Rediscovering Joy

First time Ethan and Casey are intimate after their missed miscarriage.

Wicked Game

A person from Tobias and Ethan’s past makes an appearance

Green with Envy

Casey stakes her claim on Ethan quite publicly to send a message to a former lover.

Beautiful

It is Casey and Ethan’s wedding day.

When In Rome

Ethan and Casey’s first night of their honeymoon NSFW a content

Simple things

A Drabble for world coffee day

Night at the Museum

Casey and Ethan attend an opening of an exhibit at the Boston Museum NSFW Content

Mothers Day

A fic spanning two mothers days, when Casey is pregnant with Hudson and first Mother’s Day with Hudson.

Hello Little one

Prompt request with Ethan having a chat with Hudson whilst he is in utero.

Weekend at Hopkins

Tobias and Ethan attend their 20year reunion at John Hopkins

Then there were three

Ethan and Casey find out they are expecting a child

A place to call home

Ethan and a pregnant Casey move into their new apartment

Precious

Birth of Hudson Jonah Ramsey

Happy

Ethan’s first Father’s Day.

Are you sure?

Prompt request where Casey finds out that she is expecting their second child.

Complete

The Birth of Alexis Ramsey

Opportunity

Casey is offered a position of a new clinic but suggests that Aurora runs it instead

Power to overcome

Casey and Aurora write a book telling how they overcame misogyny and racism in their careers

Love in all forms

Casey brings back a Valentine’s Day family celebration to help remind their daughter that she is loved, no matter what

Realisations

Alexis’s first pride after coming out and she comes to some realisations

Medical School series

A four part series set in medical school focussing on Ethan and Tobias. Starts at the beginning of medical school and ends with a time jump to the end of residency.

What could ever go wrong

Halloween before Estelle and Ethan get together

I gave you my heart

When Ethan and Estelle get together.

At Last

Prompt request. Tobias’s reaction to Ethan and Estelle getting together

Instant regret

The beginning of the end of Tobias and Ethan

Shattered

The fallout from that night, more from the perspective of Tobias

When life has other plans

An open heart AU

Head canons

Tobias Carrick and June Hirata

Louise Ramsey

Ramsey Children

Tobias Carrick and Ethan Ramsey

Edenbrook under Caroline Bloom

[circumstellars]

Hello there! Can I have a ficlet with dialogue prompt, 'What's making him scream like that?' for Five and Diego, or any siblings you like ;)

[Ok so this turned out slightly longer than intended, but I was able to blend it together with another idea I had for a follow up to this ficlet.

The context is that this is canon compliant in that it happens somewhere near the end of S1EP4, when passed out drunk Five is recovering in Diego’s bed.

Basically Five has an PTSD episode, or a night terror if that’s easier, and the line you prompted I rearranged and altered a bit to fit the scene, so I hope that’s okay?

In this addition to the canon, when they were little Ben begins to have trouble controlling the otherworldly monster he uses, and Five has made a promise he won’t let things get out of hand. Fast forward to S1, where Luther and Diego are taking care of him, but before Al comes to deliver Eudora’s message, and it is sandwiched between two Five apocalypse flashbacks.

So so so many thanks to @michlle, or @/kkie on TUA Adult Fan Discord server. She’s an amazing beta that helped me in a pinch! So the only reason my grammar is so much better than usual is entirely thanks to her.

Very angsty. Blood, just a snippet a violence. Brotherly pain all around, emotional suffering. Enjoy! I hope you like it.]

================================================

⟨p⟩=md⟨x⟩/dt=mddt∫∞−∞x|ψ|2dx=m∫∞−∞x∂|ψ|2∂tdx.­­­ 'It's a simple fucking equation, what is wrong?' His shaky fingers struggled with the chalk, accidentally snapping off one end against the concrete wall. Five swore, making a face at the broken piece of chalk like it spoke ill of his mother.

Oh god. Mom.  His face crumpled. 'The expectation values of displacement and momentum... obey time evolution equations analogous with,' a wet cough interrupted his deflated musing. He spun around and rested against the concrete he had been writing on moments before, before turning an eye to Dolores. '... the mechanics of Schrödinger’s equation.'  Dolores gave him a weary look. Five avoided her gaze. She didn't know. It's not like she had been forced to pick up quantum physics at age ten, and really, he had to forgive her for that.  The sun was powerful today, as it had been at least seventeen of the twenty-six days he'd been stuck in the apocalyptic ruins of his former city. It should have only been the end of April, if that newspaper clipping he held close was in fact the last thing to have been printed, but it felt hotter than middle July easily. The aggressive winds of mid-afternoon whipped all sorts of debris into his frail body and any exposed skin, and Five simply couldn't risk any injuries that could deplete his energy. He was on the cusp of fixing this, he could feel it in his exhausted bones.

He swallowed down the start of a painful sob, careful to steel over his expression. 'I know you said something about the farthest right term Dolores, but I'm not neglecting it,' Five chided, breathing into the dirty scarf around his face.

He turned around and scooped up the chalk he had rejected moments ago. 'The spatial extent of the particle wavefunction isn't smaller than the variation length-scale of the potential. You're clever, and pretty, but not that clever.' 

Five snorted at his own banter, smiling into the trails of chalk spilling from his hand as it ran across the rubble. 'Now, listen carefully this time...' --- Diego unceremoniously dropped Dolores on a nearby chair.  The fuck is this for?  He gave the mannequin an odd look. A few steps away Luther lowered their brother carefully into Diego's roomy, luxurious twin cot, rolling the sleepy, drunken Five so that he was resting comfortably on his side. 

Diego sidled next to Luther, joining him in looking over their tiny brother. Small, frozen in time for them both in memory and now, awkwardly, in reality too. The baby fat still very much clung to his still rounded features and made him look impossibly younger in a way that brought nostalgia roaring up the esophagus like heartburn. He was supposedly twice their age now? Diego scrunched his nose; to think this child, for all intents and purposes, laid here so serenely- so sweetly, dare he say it, looked like a boy who'd just tired himself out at school that day. Yet he knew, the moment Five sobered up, the illusion would crumble swiftly and without mercy. 'Funny, if I didn't know he was such a prick, I'd say he looks almost adorable in his sleep.' 

Luther snorted. 'Well, don't worry. He'll sober up eventually... and be back to his normal, unpleasant self.'

That's not good enough. 'Yeah - I can't wait that long.' Diego spun on his heel, intending to grab provisions. Five had about ten minutes of rest before Diego would be ready to forcibly pull him into consciousness with soda crackers and ginger-ale. 'I need to find out what connections he has to these lunatics before someone else dies.'

Luther didn't respond right away, eyes flickering to Five and back. He looked pensive, uncomfortable. Diego still hadn’t gotten used to the subtle changes in Luther's personality; it was disquieting the way he looks so much bigger than he used to, and yet now he seems so much smaller to Diego than he ever physically was. The big man had an air of constant uncertainty around him.

'That stuff he was saying before...' Luther began after a moment, 'what do you think he meant by that?' Diego glanced over his shoulder at Five's sleeping figure, curled up tightly in foetal position. His expression darkened in his sleep, and Diego frowned. 'I don't know...' The words came slowly, his focus narrowing in on his littlest brother. He turned quickly again, box of soda crackers forgotten on his dingy counter.

Five began to fuss, still unconscious, but his body began to shake some, and his entire expression was pinched in discomfort. Luther was watching Diego, puzzled, and followed his eyes back to Five on the cot behind him.

Then came the screaming.

Both Luther and Diego jumped back in alarm as the most harrowing, stomach-churning scream came from Five. He was folded into himself, clutching at his own biceps so hard his knuckles were bone-white. The screams that were coming from him sounded so raw Diego was sure he was damaging his vocal cords in some way.

Luther came down from his initial shock quicker than Diego and was at the cot in an instant. Diego held his breath, jaw fighting to unhinge. He was always quick in his reflexes, but something held Diego down and glued his feet to the floor. His body was alarmingly stiff with inaction.

Luther was gripping at Five, holding him as he jerked back and forth, scream after scream tearing through his rattled body. Over and over Luther tried to talk over Five, wake him up, continuously asking him what is wrong and 'what is happening Five? Can't you hear me?'

'W-ww-why is h-h-h-he screaming like t-that?'

Diego’s broken voice was swallowed up in the cacophony of Five's agonising wailing and Luther's panicked mantra of Five, Five, Please Five, Five!

Five's painful screams were tearing bloody wounds into Diego’s eardrums, and the sound of his little brother in such convincingly raw misery pulled terrifying tremors up from deep within his belly.

Go.

What happened?

Iego.

Five?

'-Iego. Diego! Diego!' Luther's voice hit him like an anvil. 'Hey?'

Why is he screaming like that?

All at once life moved forward with a start. Air sucked its way back into Diego's lungs and his attention snapped to his brothers. Five was no longer on the bed, but crumpled over on their large brother's lap, clutching not his own arms anymore but instead had all ten, trembling fingers gripped into Luther's jacket for absolute, dear life. Luther had a pained expression etched into his normally hard visage, and his arms came up to hold Five in place as gently as Diego had ever seen his giant brother move. It only dawned on him then, that Five wasn't screaming anymore.

Diego moved quietly, setting himself on the bed next to his brothers as silently as he could, almost as if he were afraid to spook an already terrified deer pinned between a rocky ledge and an oncoming truck. 

Mindlessly Diego laid his gloved hand to his little brother's head, cupping the back of it gingerly. Something heavy threatened to pull his heart into his guts, and the struggle disguised itself in the shadows of his expression.

For a while everything was deadly quiet. The pipes in the old building gurgled apropos nothing, the boxing business outside long closed for the evening with only Al's occasional footsteps any sure sign life still existed outside this hole he called home.

Diego couldn't hear much else, aside from the ragged breaths shaking Five's small chest. His eyes were still closed, creased with concern, delicate fans of black eyelashes twitching as his brain worked through whatever dark secrets Five hadn’t dared to yet share with any of his siblings. 

'Five...' but Diego’s voice aborted the words in his throat, and he met Luther's eyes. He found no answers.

What did you see, Five?

--- Day 42.

A rat scampered past Five’s feet and jumped into a pile of debris outside the remains of a nearby fast-food joint. He shaded his eyes with his left hand and looked over the large expanse of the now lifeless tundra he used to call home. The details of everything in the distance dissolved into the intensely hot horizon.

‘Today is as good a day as any,’ he said, exhaling loudly. Dolores agreed from where she was perched in her wagon. I’m ready.

Five ripped off his weighty, layered scarf and tossed it to the ground.  Today is the day. He was going to get back to his family.

He took another deep breath and ran over some calculations a final time in his head, his eyebrows pinching together with determination. Focus.

First, just a hum. Then, a moment later a spark. Five growled and redoubled his efforts, tightening his fists as hard as they would go, until the jagged half-moons of his nails cut right into the flesh of his palms. 

‘Come on!’  And then it appeared. Small, at first, but definitely, absolutely, positively the start of the vortex, undeniable as it began flickering into existence. It was immediately apparent Five couldn’t do this for a second longer than he had to; every muscle in his body was desperately working to help him rip a hole right into the material of the space-time continuum, and pain blossomed in every limb, one after another.

‘COME ON!’  The air around the wormhole became unstable, trying to escape the vacuum and whipping everything around Five into a frenzy. Dolores tipped over in her wagon, and Five nearly lost his grip on the material of time. He willed himself into ignoring her momentarily, letting out a howl as he pulled open the vortex as far as it would go. Five inhaled shakily, and let go.

I did it. There it was. He was finally going home.  Five’s knees nearly buckled underneath him as he was hit with a heady wave of excitement and relief. Luther. Vanya. Ben! Diego-- all of them. He was going to see them all again, today. Now. Tears spilt from his eyes, but he didn’t take any notice. There were flickers of life beyond the vortex, and then faces, and bodies, and Allison and Klaus, unmistakable as they filtered in and out of focus like the signal was dying on an old television set.  Five was animated in an instant and turned to grab Dolores. They had to go. Now.  He scooped up her feather-light body. ‘Leave it, Dolores! We don’t have time!’ He’d find her a new sweater once they were home. Hell, he’d buy her a whole rack of her own sweaters, anything Dolores wants, if only they got home right now.

And then the screaming came.

Five whipped around. 

Again. First one voice, then two. Many more joined them, and Five ran toward the wormhole. 

‘BEN!’

Ben? Five braced himself against the pull of the vortex, the air thin and difficult to pull into his lungs. It whipped around him with a force he’d never felt before, and his hat and goggles were snatched from his head and thrown well into the distance. The shrieking was getting louder, closer, and the images from the other side pieced together the closer Five inched into its grip. The voices were blood-curdling, and his whole body went cold with terror.

‘Diego, don’t!’

‘Ben! Klaus, get out of the way!’

‘BEEEEEEEEEEEENNN!’

‘BEN! WHATS HAPPENING!?’

‘BEN!’

No.

No, no.

He was going back, it was going to be okay. Five was going back, it was going to be okay.

It all happened within the span of three seconds.

The fuzzy images of his siblings running, screaming, blood soaked into their clothes, painted across their young faces – dripping from their feet as they scrambled away. 

Ben. 

Ben’s body dangling nearly fifteen feet off the ground, monstrous appendages thrashing wildly and destroying the surroundings with savage flings. 

Two grotesque limbs held his bloodied and mangled brother skywards, uninhibited by his terrified screams.

No. 

No. no. no. no.

No. no. no. no. no. nonononono-

‘Someone stop him!’

‘Klaus you can’t! KLAUS-‘

It felt like his skin was being flayed from his muscle. Five thought he might have been screaming too but couldn’t hear anything. All he knew for sure was the feeling of his molecules being pulled apart.

Everything was silent.  Like the deadness of space itself, for a fraction of a second, a microscopic fragment of time - absolutely nothing existed. Crunch.

The blood that hit his face hurt. And then someone pressed play.

Everything moved again and it knocked the wind out of his lungs. Five was violently thrown from the throes of the wormhole, sucked back into his own point in time and tossed several feet backwards into strewn debris. 

‘NO!’ 

The vortex he’d spent forty-two days working on was gone, just like that. Absorbed into the material of space, the deep wound he’d used every ounce of energy to create was now healed over in a matter of seconds, lost to some other dimension and out of his grasp. Ben. He’d promised him. He had promised his brother he would be there, that he would figure it out.

That Ben wouldn’t die. But Five let him. He watched the brutal final seconds of his brother’s life, his body torn into pieces by the beast he tried so hard to contain. Five wasn’t there.

He didn’t make it.  He had told Ben he wouldn’t let him die, but he did, and Five just watched it happen, unable to do absolutely fucking shit. The sun was merciless. It baked Ben’s blood on every part that had briefly touched the other side. It settled into the cracks of the tattered skin on his right hand, pulled at the skin under his eyes and on his cheeks – crusted where it had dripped into his mouth and over his tongue. When the trance that numbed Five finally broke, it was nightfall. 

He still sat on his haunches, a few fingers on his left hand barely curled around Dolores’ shirt.  And when it did, and his throat finally moved to swallow, his limbs twitching with overwhelming pain, and his chest trembling violently, the only thing Five could feel was the fiery strain of the unending wailing that tore ceaselessly from his lungs.

[dragons-bones]

Collection of short ficlets, ask fics, and prompt responses from tumblr, cleaned up for the Archive, about the Squad of Light: Synnove Greywolfe, Rereha Reha, Dancing Heron, and Alakhai Noykin (plus carbuncles, and everyone else who gets dragged into their nonsense and/or collateral damage).

Please refer to the Table of Contents and notes at the beginning of each chapter for individual warnings where applicable.

--

Latest Chapters: The Four Lords and Wolekdorf, or, Synnove's Disney Princess Effect in Stormblood (and Her "It's Fluffy, Must Pet It" Instinct)

[dragon-temeraire]

DT’s TW Fic Recs #36

It’s been ages since I posted a rec because I’ve been super busy, but here are some great sterek fics! (All my other recs can be found here)

Binomial Coefficients by @devildoll

Pairing: Sterek

Why: This fic was so cute I could hardly stand it! It’s the high school AU of my dreams, full of delicious trope-y goodness with a few surprises, math, and pining. Oh, the pining. I love tough-looking jock Derek secretly being a marshmallow, and Stiles being continually surprised by that. This fic is wonderful and adorable, I loved it! (And if the ‘bullying’ tag is keeping you from reading it, just know that it’s fairly mild and only mentioned a few times.)

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untitled ficlet by @halffizzbin

Pairing: Sterek

Why: This is a very short but very cute little fic, where Stiles and Derek have such amazing sex that Stiles demands a high-five for it. Because of course he does. And I was laughing at his little commentator voice, and Derek’s longsuffering but fond reaction to it. (Side note: this is bottom Derek, in case that’s not your thing.)

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Jumping Tunnels by Rathe

Pairing: Sterek

Why: This is a really unique and entertaining take on time travel, where Stiles just has the innate ability to do it (with a few exceptions). I could definitely see him as the type to use it to procrastinate real life events, and to end up learning so much that school (particularly history) is pretty boring to him. And I really loved the ending, when Stiles used his powers for the good of someone else.

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untitled ficlet by @little-werewolf-oven

Pairing: Sterek

Why: There have been a lot of fics written for the ‘accidentally broke into the wrong house/apartment’ prompt, but this one is hilarious. I was cackling at Stiles’ drunken ridiculousness, and I did love Derek’s reaction to waking up next to Stiles. If you need a laugh today, read this fic!

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[timepetalscollective]

Hey everyone - here are this week’s prompts! We’ve also updated our blog’s theme, yay :) 

Ficlet Prompts this week:

○ We almost forgot about Mermay! We’ll take any art/edit/graphic or fic involving mermaids this week! :)

○ Inspired by Sylvester McCoy’s appearance on Sense8, any Sense8 AU or sensate!Doctor or sensate!Rose fic

○ What is [insert non-Doctor DT/CE/PCap]’s achilles heel?

○ Write a fic about Brona/Lily, Bella, Betty, Shelley (City of Tiny Lights), or Grace (Beast short film) and their children

Drabble Themes this week:

[strawberries] or [sunrise]

🌟 Feel free to use any of these fic prompts as inspiration for fanfics, OR: fan art, graphics/edits, or gifsets! Mention us and we’ll reblog your creations here and include them in our weekly rec lists :)

Mention and Tag: @timepetalsprompts, #timepetalsprompts

Open art/edit/manip challenges: ice cream flavors, Don Juan in Soho

🌟 Writer Bingo is open for everyone to try ^_^

🌟 May’s monthly prompt is available here!

🌟 Please consider these prompts we received from darling readers this past week! :D

Doctor x Rose KPop prompt

Sam Tyler from Life on Mars is related to Rose Tyler prompt

For even more prompts see our submission tag, or our nav page

🌟 NEXT WEEK’S PROMPTS:

Next week’s ficlet prompts:

Write a fic about a character choosing to not have children

RTD Era characters meeting Bill Potts (tag for any s10 spoilers)

Start a fic with ‘This week, on __’

Next week’s drabble theme:

[glitter] or [sunglasses] 

[mellicose]

campbell uhhh smut and panting?

uhhhh … it would be my pleasure.

He snuck up the stairs, smiling. He hadn’t spent time with Candy for over a week and a half. They decided together, after they nearly got caught in the aviary after the last time. He looked at the rectangles of murky grey as he walked to their secret room. It was a dreary, rainy day, and he mourned the fact he wouldn’t be able to see her gleaming nudity in the sunlight.

He turned a corner, and shrugged. She was beautiful in any light. As he neared the old office, he heard something. Breath. He pressed himself close to the wall and held his own. He waited, hoping that someone hadn’t followed him up. He thought about Candy. He wondered whether she was already undressed, and waiting. His cock stirred in his jeans. He looked out in the direction he came. There was no one-

Again, breath. Staccato, and hard. It sounded like someone resting after a sprint. He walked the way he came. There was no sound, save the for faraway cries of the chronics on the first floor coming from the air duct by his head. Maybe that was it. The air duct caught a breeze and echoed it.

He walked back toward the office, and Candy. The sound of soft panting got louder. Something in his thoughts popped! almost audibly. It was his girl. It was her breath. He walked quietly, and looked into the partially opened door.

She was on the chaise by the big window, with her back to him. She was nude, save for a weathered multicolored hoodie, which pooled around her gyrating hips.

Her pants were punctuated with little whimpers as she lifted the piece of clothing near her face to breathe it in. She sighed, and her hips rolled again, into her hand. She was smelling the hoodie he left after their previous encounter. Her luscious ass jiggled with her eager thrusting. She leaned into her hand, and he saw a flash of surging fingers between her slick thighs-

His eyes widened, and his cock now stood straight up in his trousers. She was wanking. With his hoodie on, fucking her fingers with the hood between her teeth. Tasting his pheromones. And so wet the flowered blanket underneath was dark with her juices.

His thoughts bounced around his head almost painfully, so he didn’t know where he got the patience to walk very quietly into the room. He could smell her now. Her musk and body heat mushroomed out from where she was and hit him like a tangible force that knocked him back on his heels. He leaned against the large desk, panting.

She turned quickly, holding the hoodie against her. Just as soon as she saw him, her face relaxed into desire again.

“What are you doing?” he said. His voice came out pleading.

“You’re early,” she said, and dropped the hoodie. It pooled loosely around her hips. Her hand was still between her legs. It moved, very slowly. Her scent was making him tense, in the best way.

“Am I? I’d say it was the opposite,” he said, nodding between her legs. He took off his shirt, and started to unbutton his jeans.

“Oh no. Early,” she said, and pulled him to her. His eyes closed and lips parted for a kiss, but instead, she slid her slippery fingers in his mouth.

“mmpph,” he said, and twitched as her musk went into his brain. He licked her fingers clean as she reached into his underwear. She purred as she gripped him.

“You’re more ready than I am,” she said, withdrawing her fingers and guiding his hand to her pussy. He got goosepimples. She was swollen and wet –she felt like she did when they were finished. Her clit was a taut, throbbing bead. He caressed it with the pad of his thumb, and she curled into herself and groaned.

“It feels suckable,” he whispered in her ear. A curly tendril of her hair tickled his cheek. She smelled clean, when he was this close. But the cloud of her insistent musk still made him twitch in her grip. She turned to him and pouted.

“Please,” she said, gripping his wrist with both hands. She was greedy for sensation. He stared at her, eyes glowing with wonder. She looked beyond beautiful, because it was only for him.

“Why did you start without me?” His fingers still caressed in her folds.

She sighed, and held up his hoodie. “Who says I didn’t?” She licked her lower lip slowly. The sensation telegraphed perfectly to his cock. He grabbed a handful of hoodie and pulled it down. “Aren’t I enough?”

They both stopped moving, and looked at each other. He didn’t know the last bit was going to come out of his mouth. She looked out the window, then at her hands. Her fingertips were pruny with lust, and she chuckled.

“Cam, you’re enough. More than enough. Sometimes, you’re more than I can bloody stand,” she said, but she grabbed his hand and pressed it against her cheek. “And no, I don’t mean your moods, or whatever. I mean you.” She kissed the cup of his palm passionately. She looked up at him. “I mean every inch of your delicious hide.”

He was stuck in place, dazzled. And confused. She smiled.

“I guess some might not think it to see you, but you are the sexiest creature I’ve ever known. Even the way you move, the way you think. Your surprising fits of intensity. It’s irresistible,” she said, and sucked his musky thumb in her mouth. His eyes rolled closed with sensation. He heard her, but he could process only one statement at a time.

The way he moved was sexy? He thought he was a bit of a twat, honestly. Twitchy.

Her tongue swirled around his thumb, and without thinking, he squeezed himself over his underwear. She gently guided his other hand to her neck.

“You unsettle me, honey,” she said softly. His eyes fluttered open, and her gaze made him sit up straight. She wasn’t smiling. “So, sometimes, before we meet, I … let off some steam. So I’m not desperate, or rough. I wouldn’t want to, er…”

He held his breath. Desperate? Rough? Sometimes, his limbs ached after they spent a few hours alone together, like he ran sprints. His head spun. He tried to grasp her meaning.

“I don’t want to hurt you with my … passion,” she said. She flushed pink with the confession.

He looked her up and down slowly. He forgot his cock. Love rolled over his heart in swelling waves that made him want to hit the ceiling.

“I love you,” he said, kissing her gleaming shoulder. “So much.” He kissed the shell of her ear, and wrapped his arm around her waist. She smiled, and looked at her hands again. Her silence was telling. He gazed at the imperfect line of her nose, and the way the grey light made her long, dark lashes shine. He pressed his lips against her freckled cheekbone, and sighed. She shivered, and leaned into him. He caressed her breast, and tugged on her taut nipple. She moaned, low in her throat.

“Franky, you could tear me apart, and I’d just thank you for it.” He licked lightly over her lips, and she opened her mouth to him.

“So it doesn’t bother you that I sometimes get … intense?” she said, and kissed him. He tasted vaguely of the grape bubble gum he hoarded, to Isabel’s irritation.

“Don’t ever hide yourself from me,” he said, his eyes serious. She sucked his tongue avidly. He stiffened against her, but held her tighter. He gently extricated himself, only to take off his jeans. She giggled as he bobbed as he kicked off his underwear. She caressed him, moaning at his wetness. He was really ready. She might have to dissemble a while to make things better for them both.

She leaned back and spread her legs, parting her pussy lips for his gaze. He licked his kiss-red lips and fell to his knees without another word.

[mellicose]

Anon request: tenth doctor, hands, fluff ❤😍

This is something that’s been brewing in my head for a while - a tender moment between Ten and Wilf before the fall.

The TARDIS hummed melodically in the background. She was showing off for Donna’s grandpa, and the Doctor was a bit irritated at her.

He had told her so many times the reasons why he did what he did, but she gave him her usual green-hued disapproval. Still, what’s done is done, and there was nothing else to be done about it-

“Ey, boy,” Wilf said quietly. 

The Doctor was lost in thought. Dread pressed into his skull like a vise, and no amount of Time Lord logic seemed to diffuse it. Something was coming. Something big. Huge. His hearts fluttered in his chest. He resented the battery acid tang of fear in his mouth. Lately, it’s all he tasted. He hadn’t eaten in days.

“Boy,” he said, patting his shoulder. The Doctor jumped, and gave the old man a fierce look that made him stumble back.

“Doctor,” he said tersely, and kept fiddling with his hyperdimensional defibrillator – it was acting tetchy at the moment. There was something jamming it, but he couldn’t imagine anything so huge as to jam it. At least, not in Earth space.

“Alright. Doctor,” he said, nodding. The Doctor instantly felt guilty for being so harsh. And immediately after, irritated for being guilty. The old man was basically an interloper in a tense battle between him and the Master, and…

...he didn’t know whether he could protect him, properly. It made him vibrate with despair to think that something might happen to Donna’s grandfather. He had already caused enough havoc in her family.

The man pulled off his red cap to expose a shock of white hair. He cleared his throat. The Doctor saw the echo of Donna’s eyes in his, and it made his throat tight.

“So … the TARDIS. The time and relative-

“-Dimension in space, yeah, mate. You got it,” he said impatiently. He was on the metal grating floor near the center column. His coat spread around him on the floor like a sheet. A sheet that Wilf stood on with his dusty oxfords.

“Ye said before this thing has many dimensions folded into it-”

“Infinite dimensions,” the Doctor corrected, and hit a metal pipe with a wrench. The TARDIS hiccuped with disapproval. Wilf’s eyes widened.

“She really is alive, ain’t she?” he said excitedly, looking around. He didn’t dare leave the Doctor’s side for fear he might get lost, and he didn’t want to bother the tall, mysterious alien, but biology forced his hand. “Ahem, er, d’you reckon there’s a toilet for ... em ...?”

The Doctor froze and looked up at him, his face serious. Again, Wilf took a step back, but the Doctor’s intensity came from guilt, not anger. Of course he needed a bathroom. And how long has it been since they’ve been together? At least two days, and he also hadn’t taken a bite.

“The bathroom is over there,” he said, pointing to a dark portico just beyond the heart of the TARDIS. And I’ll take to the kitchen when you get back.”

His eyes followed as the old man nearly ran to the facilities. He felt so … thoughtless. It was Donna who insisted the TARDIS have a toilet available nearby, and not 5 right turns, 2 left turns, and a stairwell away. The edges of his mouth twitched.

“You say you’ve been around humans for ages, but you act like you have no idea about their little foibles, do you?” she said, hands on her hips. “The kitchen’s a hour’s walk away! I hardly want to go on a bloody hike to get my morning cuppa.”

He smiled. Her voice echoed in his brain, brassy and beautiful.

“It’s an adventure. You can discover all the hidden rooms along the way,” the Doctor whispered, and remembered Donna’s rolling eyes.

“A hike. An adventure. Imagine all that nonsense just to get some beans on toast,” she said, and stomped off, to his delight.

He missed her. And having Wilf around was only pricking the old wound.

Wilf came out, his face relaxed. “Thanks, Doctor. I thought I’d have to ask whether there was a rest stop in the Milky Way,” he said, smiling.

“Are you hungry?” the Doctor said, wiping his hands on the end of his coat and standing up.

“I could do with a proper tea,” he said, nodding. “A bit of beans on toast.”

His hearts hurt.

“Follow me,” the Doctor said, and went down the stairs and into a wide hallway.

“I swear I’ve been poking around the control room for hours, and I didn’t see,” Wilf said, looking around in wonder.

“She knows where I want to go, so she makes the crooked ways straight,” the Doctor said, walking fast in front of him. He took a sudden left turn, and his coat snapped smartly behind him. Wilf had to jog to keep up, but he didn’t mind. He was in an alien spaceship, about to eat in an alien kitchen. He wondered whether they called it something else. Did they have those crazy machines that made food out of thin air, like in the sci-fi shows on telly? Was it gonna be exotic, or weird and wonderful-

They turned again, and the Doctor stopped.

“Blimey,” Wilf said, scratching his head. The Doctor smiled. It wasn’t a weird and exotic room. In fact, it looked exactly like their kitchen back home.

“Donna set it up like she wanted,” the Doctor said, and plopped down in an overstuffed chair with green polka dots.

“Did she just?” Wilf said. “I wonder-” he walked to the cabinet by the refrigerator and opened it. He laughed. “Ha! Baked beans!” It was exactly where they kept their canned goods at home. He looked around at the spacious counters, and spied the bread box. There was a bag of bread in, and not the horrible whole wheat dross his daughter usually bought. It was the plain ol’ white pan bread that he and Donna preferred.

The Doctor watched him navigate the kitchen familiarly, getting a pot to warm the beans, and fetching the cheese from the icebox. He stared in it, and grabbed a packet of raspberries, Donna’s favorite.

“When’s the last time you stocked the icebox?” Wilf said. The raspberries were in perfect condition, although Donna had been back for ages.

“I assure you, they’re perfectly good, as is everything else in there,” the Doctor said, standing and popping one in his mouth. He loved them too. What a funky little fruit – both tender and crunchy with seeds.

“But, how?” Wilf said, closing the icebox and turning on the stove.

“Time stops in the icebox,” the Doctor said simply, as if it wasn’t the strangest concept Wilf had ever heard until that moment.

“What did you say?”

“When you put something in the icebox, it’s as if you’re suspending it in time. It’s a great way to preserve leftovers, I’ll tell you that,” he said, eating another raspberry.

“So … those berries could’ve been in there since...”

“I think they were here since before my regeneration,” the Doctor said, grabbing the whole packet and sitting back down. “They taste like the 80’s.”

Wilf looked at the bag of bread. “And this?”

The Doctor furrowed his brow. “No, that’s all Donna. She loved her buttered toast.”

The beans bubbled on the fob as he popped two slices of bread in the toaster.

“And what do you eat?” Wilf said.

“My metabolism’s different, so I don’t need to eat like you,” he said, his mouth still pink with raspberry juice. “But I could eat like you. I love a good English breakfast. Eggs and bacon and a cheeky sausage? It’s the best,” he said, patting his flat belly. “Especially after a good sleep.”

“But I suppose you don’t do much of that either,” Wilf said, looking at him curiously. It had been two days, and the alien had not stopped.

“Nah,” the Doctor said, tipping his head to the side. “But it’s lovely sometimes. Helps pass the time,” he said, and polished off the last raspberry. He bounded up and stared into the pot. “Tea up soon?”

“You’d like some? I’ll toast more bread,” Wilf said, smiling.

“Might as well,” the Doctor said, giving him his first smile. “It’s dreadful eating alone.”

Wilf burst into laughter. “You know it! So does my Donna!”

The Doctor took off his coat and hung it up in the hook by the door. He wore his usual dusty brown suit. He sat at the table as Wilf buttered toast at the counter. He loved the sound of buttering toast – that  delicious bready grindgrindgrind as you work the butter deep into the bread, and way it melts and gleams temptingly on the uneven brown surface, softening it just slightly. He especially loved dipping it in a milky tea, and seeing the butter form glass bubbles on the surface…

Tea!

“I’m make us a cuppa,” the Doctor said, jogging to the cupboard where Donna kept the teabags. “It’s a miraculous thing, tea. Real brain food.”

“I agree. Morning’s not the same without one – or a couple,” Wilf said, spooning the steaming beans on a piece of toast with a couple thick slices of cheddar on them. “D’you take cheese?”

“Nah,” the Doctor said. “Just butter. Loads of butter,” he said, looking over the old man’s shoulder as the kettle started to boil on the fob. Wilf spread a generous knob on a piece of toast, and the Doctor’s left eyebrow rose as he was about to put down the knife.

“You want more?” Wilf said, refraining from a chuckle.

“Yes! It should be butter on toast, not toast with butter,” the Doctor said, rolling back on his heels. “Don’t be shy, man. I’ll work it off.”

“That you will, boy,” Wilf said, and buttered until creamy pools of the stuff formed on the craggy surface of the bread. The kettle screamed, and the Doctor jumped into action, grabbing cups and teabags and milk and sugar and cream and lemon-

Did he take lemon in his tea? He couldn’t remember. It was nice to have, just in case.

He put it all at the table and waited for Wilf to bring them their banquet. Wilf placed a steaming plate in front of him.

“There ye go, boy-er, Doctor. Tuck in,” he said, and sat opposite him.

“I’ll do the tea,” the Doctor said, pouring the steaming water into the large, apple-red cups. They waited a few beats as the water swirled amber around the teabags, then began to prepare it how they like. The Doctor added everything at the table. He hadn’t eaten in ages, and he was suddenly ravenous. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a cuppa. Perhaps a few days. Maybe 3000 years. Who knew.

Wilf watched him manically pour and squeeze and stir in silence as he ate. He was so young. A looker, to be honest. He wondered whether Donna ever thought so too. There was no way to ask now, anyway. The Doctor slurped loudly at his ridiculous cuppa, then started in on the toast. He ate like a teenager, barely chewing. He inhaled the plate, and looked hopefully at Wilf’s.

Wilf pushed the half eaten plate across the table.

“Ta,” the Doctor said, and ate. Wilf waited patiently, and kept his face neutral as the Doctor finished every bit, then licked both plates.

“Hit the spot, did it?” the old man said.

“Didn’t think I liked cheese,” the Doctor said frowning pensively. “But I think I do. Good stuff.”

Wilf sipped the warm tea. “Now that me belly’s not rumbling, it got me to thinking,” Wilf said.

“What about?” the Doctor said, slinging his long legs over the arm of his chair.

“This place – all the stories – you are extraordinary. It’s like a dream, but it’s real. A ship with endless dimensions, and fully fitted kitchen-”

“You should see the bathing pools,” the Doctor interrupted. “One of them has tiny, carnivorous fennic fish – they eat dead skin, so when you get in they tickle you, and you come out gleaming,” he said with a grin. Martha thought it was a laugh-” the light suddenly went out from his eyes, and he seemed to deflate into the chair.

“Doctor,” Wilf said. He waited for him to come back into himself.

“Yes?” the alien said.

“How could Donna forget the unforgettable? I could live a thousand years and not forget even this. Sitting with you here, in this magic box, eating beans on toast. Not in a million years.”

The Doctor’s jaw muscles tightened, and his brown eyes twitched with emotion. He leaned forward and fiddled with the teacup. Then, surprisingly, he reached over and pressed his fingertips into Wilf’s temples. His touch was gentle, and his fingertips were still hot from holding the cup.

Wilf remained still. His long, pale fingers looked so human. Masculine. He wondered whether it was just a façade, like some of the sci-fi shows. Maybe he looked strange and wonderful, and his spiky hair and long, lean form was just an image he projected into his brain-

“It’s not a projected image,” the Doctor said, shaking his head. He withdrew, and stared at his hands. “I really look this way. Now. It might be a thousand years or a day, and I will look different.”

Wilf’s heart was going triple time. “You can read minds?” he said, stuffing his knit cap onto his head, seemingly for protection. The Doctor chuckled.

“A little. Well, yes. But I haven’t been able to read psyonic waves through thin air for a number of regenerations, so you don’t won’t be needing the hat,” he said, pulling it off and handing it to him.

“Oh. Right then,” he said, flushing.

“Psyonic waves?” Wilf said.

“For human beings and many, many other species, consciousness isn’t quite what it feels like. In its essence, your thoughts are electrical impulses shooting off in your brain. And not only that. Emotions. Memories. It’s all stored in your biological computer, and sadly, can be manipulated.”

Wilf nodded slowly. “Biological computer. It makes sense,” he said.

“I don’t mean to diminish the vast and wonderful twists and turns of human consciousness and their capacity for being absolutely brilliant, but … it is what it is.”

“Yeh,” the old man said.

“When I realized Donna was in danger, I simply … deleted certain things from her biological computer. For her safety ... as well as her sanity,” he said haltingly. He felt like he was confessing a crime. He didn’t mention certain protection protocols he might’ve added to her DNA, but the old man didn’t need to know everything.

“Deleted?” he repeated, nodding. “Did it hurt?”

“Only for a nanosecond. A bright burst, and she was safe,” he said, swallowing hard. He missed her sarcastic mouth and her endlessly kind heart. He was so dreadfully, tragically lonely. He had nothing but the beans and toast in his belly and a grim outlook of his immediate future. She would make him feel better by teasing him about his moping. She would poke at him and laugh her laugh and convince him to go on a visit to M’adelixis 7, where they had the best cream floats in the galaxy, and all would be well for a while.

But he didn’t have it. He didn’t have her. And he was tired, no, absolutely exhausted of losing.

“You’re shaking, Doctor,” Wilf said, putting his hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” the Doctor said abruptly, and shook his hand off. He wouldn’t be able to hold it together if this man, with the echo of Donna’s cornflower blue eyes, kept giving him a sympathetic look.

“So, just a quick touch and everything’s gone,” Wilf said as he tidied up. He gave the Doctor a sidelong glance. “You didn’t mess about with anything earlier?” He nearly dropped a teacup. The thought hadn’t occurred to him, but-

“No,” the Doctor said. “And I didn’t see much. Just that thought about the aliens on television,” he said, giving him a crooked grin. Wilf walked up to him and took his hand in his.

“Lookit that,” he said, studying the Doctor’s large hands. “Just a touch is all it took.”

The Doctor gently stepped back and put his hands in his pocket. Wilf went back to washing up.

“Doctor?” he said softly.

“Yes?” he replied.

“Donna trusted you, so I trust you. But I don’t need to forget any more than I already have,” he said. “I’m old, and and I live on memories.” He wiped his hands with a tea towel and slung it over his shoulder. “You felt Donna needed to forget, and she has. She’s happy now, and I’m grateful to you. But I don’t wanna forget. Don’t make me forget,” Wilf said, and his eyes gleamed with tears.

“Don’t you worry, old man,” he said, patting his shoulder. “If Donna trusted you, I do too. You won’t say a word about all you’ve seen, will you?”

“Now’t,” Wilf said, shaking his head vigorously. “But what a story I won’t tell. An alien in a box that travels through time! What a yarn.”

“Good,” the Doctor said, kicking the floor with his scuffed sneakers and smiling wistfully. “Good man.”

[mellicose]

DT Ficlet Prompts bts

I’m getting a surprising amount of Richard fluff requests, but it’s been an age since I watched the play. I think I’ll have to watch it again ... you know, to get a feel of David’s Richard.

[mellicose]

Theo Howard, "discharge", fluff (but heavy)

DT’s small but powerful part in an episode of Foyle’s War in 2002 is seldom spoken of, but it’s a treat. Even if you haven’t watched it, you can still enjoy this bit of angsty fluff.

“Howard! How the hell are ye!” Emmett yelled as they walked into the clearing. He rose to hug him, and he let him wrap his beefy arms around him andleaned into it. Emmett was nearly 7 feet and 250 lbs of muscle, so itwasn’t only affection, but a healthy dose of respect. In any case,there was no room for timidity during war. A man never knew when he’dget his last hug, so he took what he could get.

Emmett walked them to the picnic table, which was strewn with delicacies. He uncovered some cold roast and wiggled his brows at him.

“Fancy a wee taste?” he said, ready to serve him. One of the young women sitting at the table conversing amongst themselves turned to Emmett.

“Aren’t you gonnae introduce us, then, ye great big lummox?” she said,snatching the plate away to serve. Emmett blushed underneath hisbeard.

“It’s Captain Howard, remember? I told ye he was coming,” he said, gripping the smaller man’s shoulders. The woman, beautiful but hardfaced, lookedhim over.

“It explains all the tin on his chest,” she said, spooning mashed potato onto hisplate. He didn’t blame her – how many men did she meet, and thennever met again since the beginning of the war?

“You’ll have to excuse her for being so familiar-” Emmett started, but she rolledher eyes.

“You’ll nae excuse nothin’. I’m not fighting. I’ve no need to salute to‘im,” she said as she stood to fetch a cool bottle from thestream nearby.

Emmett shook his head, still blushing. Theo patted him affectionately.

“Calm down, man. She’s right,” he said, and sat down to his plate. He hadn’teaten anything since the night before, and his flat belly growled atthe generous spread.

She sighed and shook her head. Although it pained them both to admit it, the war had been kind to their family – their father was one of the largestsuppliers of dried beef and mutton for the British army. Theirparents were horrified when he ran away to join the effort. Theyfelt there was no need to risk his hide. But he insisted, and upuntil that day, survived.

But she detested every reminder of it, and the snippets of news from the front of seemingly interminable degradation and cruelty. It made her chesttight, and her belly gurgle. Her parents didn’t quite feel thesame. Every minute the war continued, their pockets got fatter. Itmade her skin crawl to know that their new home, and their life ofcomfort and ease were financed by the suffering of others. She toldthem in a moment of passion, but they didn’t see it that way –they were butchers and ranchers, and they would always be butchersand ranchers – although it was horrid, they were proud to do theirbit for Britain.

She planted a bottle of fresh milk in front of him.

“Hmmphanks,” he said, his mouth still full. He ripped the metal cap off and drank deep. The milk was rich and creamy and cold – a delicious luxury.He closed his eyes, trying to think the last time he tasted somethingso good.

“Shall we leave alone with it, or what?” she said teasingly. He opened one eye,then the other. Emmett smiled wide at him. Her eyes danced withamusement.

“Isn’t that the best drop o’ milk you’ve ever had?” he said. “My ma insistson keeping milk cows. She doesn’t trust the stuff ol’ McKenneysells down the road.”

“It’s chalky water,” she said, nodding. “Awful stuff.”

“But most of us have to endure it, and imagine it’s good,” Theo said, licking hislips.

Now she blushed. “Quite true. We know we’re blessed,” she said, and started to tidy up the table. The servant standing off to the side steppedforward, shaking her head.

“Nae, madame. Let me-”

“Don’t ye bother yerself, Mrs. Kerlin. I can handle it,” she said, gently slappingat the older lady’s plump hands. “Enjoy the day. It’s glorious,isn’t it?”

He observed her. Although Emmett was in luxurious mufti befitting his station outside of the Army, she was in a simple white cotton frock. There was only abit of lace around the neck, as well as a worn silver locket. Otherthan that, she wore no other decoration, or cosmetic. Was she … inmourning?

She. She. He realized Emmet had not formally introduced them.

He stood up and wiped his hands.

“I’m afraid McGillis didn’t properly introduce us,” he said, bowingshallowly. “I’m Captain Theo Howard, at your service.”

She nodded. “I’m called Elizabeth,” she said. He raised his brows, waiting for her to finish. “McGillis. Not married,” she finished, and fingeredthe locket around her neck absently.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, nodded, and sat again. The other two women were off near the stream, flirting with Emmett. She sat at the table,but he ate in silence. He wondered whether he had offended her. Itwasn’t his business whether she was married.

He cleared his throat. “I apologize if I was rude earlier,” he said. “Yourpersonal life isn’t my concern.”

She stared at the two women, who were now playfully hanging off Emmett’s large arms, her face serious. He was always the playful one. The charming one.The one who could talk his way out of a scrape. That had kept himsafe before. But war was no scrape.

“Emmett’s doing his bit?” she said, poking at a plate of biscuits.

It took a second to catch up. “Yes. He might play around now, but he’s 245 lbs of fury on the field,” he said. “It’s quite extraordinary towatch, really. I feel privileged to have him fighting at my side.”

“Och aye?” she said, flicking the dried fruit from a cake. He stared at her. She had Emmett’s strawberry blonde hair and wide, inviting mouth, but herface was longer, and finer. He felt a flash of heat underneath hisuniform, despite the cool breeze coming in from the stream. Her eyesdrifted to meet his gaze. Now, she raised her eyebrow, waiting.

“Ever have hand-to-hand combat with any diabolical Germans out in the field ofbattle?” she said.

He was thrown by the question.

“I reckon. Once,” he said, then they both jumped as Emmett shot his revolver into the woods. The two girls squealed with glee and ran around him.

“What fun!” the taller of the two said, clapping.

“This is nothing,” Emmett said, blowing on the muzzle of the gun. “You can’t imagine what we get into in the front,” he said, smiling devilishly atthem.

“Nothing, eh?” Elizabeth said, popping up. Her face was splotched red. “Silly git! Put that thing away before you blow someone’s heed off!” shesaid, slamming her hand on the table.

Emmett shrugged and took the bullets out of the revolver. It was thin-muzzled Luger, a German gun. Theo frowned. He didn’t know Emmett had it.

“I didn’t mean tae give ye a start, Lizzie,” he said. “I was just showing theselovely young women a little something about war.”

“And shooting a gun off into empty woods is teaching ‘em about war, then?” she said, but she settled back down to sitting. She smoothed her skirtdown over her legs. “Nonsense,” she mumbled.

“He’s just trying to impress the ladies,” Theo volunteered.

“And war is impressive?” she said tersely, giving him a sidelong glance.

His eyes remained on his empty plate. After a few moments, she softened.

“Would ye like some more? We’ve got loads, and you look like you can use it,”she said, giving him a brief smile.

“Yes, please,” he said, and nodded. She served him again, even as the maidsat on a checkered blanket nearby and smiled up at the sun peekingthrough the leaves, eyes closed with pleasure.

She piled his plate high again and placed it in front of him. “More milk?” she said. He noticed her eyes were a breathtaking ashy green, and definitelynot like Emmett’s deep blue.

“No thanks. Any more o’ that and I’ll soon not fit in my uniform,” he said.“I’ll have a drop of water, if you have it.”

She produced a bottle of mineral water from a picnic basket. “You can drinkdirectly from the bottle, if you don’t mind. I forgot to packglasses,” she said, and flushed.

“It’s nothing,” he said, and drank. Before the war, he despised fizzy water, but living abroad had refined his tastes. Honestly, mineral water was thesafest water to drink in some places, and disease ran rampant on thefront. The bubbles dancing on his palate made him smile. “S’good,that.”

“It’s from our own spring,” she said, smiling.

“Lovely,” he said, staring at her. Now that she wasn’t frowning, she lookedyounger than she did earlier. He calculated. If Emmett was 22, andshe was 6 years older, then she must be … 28. And unmarried. He wascurious, but he didn’t know to to broach the subject. He stareddown at her long, slim hands. They were pale, but her fingernailswere not long. They were short, with ink worked deep into the quick.They closed slowly into a fist, and he lifted his eyes. She looked athim pensively.

“You do a lot of writing?” he said.

Gladly, his frankness only delighted her. “Sometimes. I’m not Emily Dickinson– I just teach reading and figures to the kids of all the workerswho live around here.”

“You mean, your father’s employees?” he said, nodding.

“Yes,” she said.

He looked at her with new eyes. Most young women of her station rode horses and bought pretty dresses and jewels, regardless of the war that raged aroundthem.

“Don’t be impressed. It’s the least I can do to help. Those women work theirfingers to the bone, and the last thing they need is having theirchildren fall to the wayside as their fathers and sons fight on thefront,” she said.

“I’m afraid it’s too late,” he said, smiling.

“Well, don’t,” she said, but she smiled.

“It’s women like you, and the women you help, that keep a soldier’s body and soul together on the front-”

She interrupted. “What do you get from it?” she said. Her brow knitted withintensity. “You must’ve had a nice home before, a beautiful girl back in England…”

“I had no home outside of my friends’ kindness. And no girl. And my best friend David was murdered for being …” he leaned forward “…for being a conscientious objector.”

Her face turned milk-pale. “Murdered. Why?”

“Because they were cruel. Because he told them the truth to their faces,” he said, blinking slowly. Memories of his best friend still hurt deeply, evenafter 2 years.

Her mouth worked. “A conchie.”

“Lizzie, darling, let him shoot off his pistol again,” one of the girls whined.

“Let me shoot off my pistol in front of the girls,” Emmett said. Theo looked at them, frowning at the innuendo. He was mystified at her reaction.

“Do what ye like, but not here. I want to keep my hearing,” she said, waving them away. They ran, giggling, deeper into the woods. Again, Liz wasfingering her locket.

“Is it precious?” Theo said gently.

She turned to him. “What?”

“The locket,” he said, nodding at the necklace.

“Ah, this old thing,” she said, letting it go. “A friend lent it to me.”

“Interesting. An old school girlfriend?” he said.

She rose and turned to the maid. “Won’t you pack up this mess, Mrs. Kerlin? I’m about ready to go back.”

“Aye, ma’am,” she said, and stood up much quicker than he thought a women like her could.

She walked along the grassy bank of the stream, her hands held behind her. She looked to him, and he realized she was waiting. He walked beside her, closer to the water.

Again, he watched her lips work, as if she was trying to untangle and voice a thought.

“I apologize for my confidence earlier. I didn’t mean to perturb you,” he said.

She shook her head, and her thick hair haloed in little curls and tendrils. “No. It’s not that.”

They walked together in silence for a few minutes, until they lost sight of the clearing.They jump as Emmett discharged his revolver nearby.

“Don’t shoot toward the water, boy!” she yelled loudly, making him jump, thenchuckle.

“Okay!” he yelled.

“You’re not that far apart, but you call him boy,” he said.

“Admit it, now. He is, just a big, lumbering, soft boy,” she said.

“He’s a good man, and I’m glad he’s my friend,” he said firmly. Her eyebrowrose. She appreciated his sincerity.

“And he’s glad as well. You wouldn’t believe how much he goes on about you. It’s ‘Captain Howard’ this, and ‘the Cap’ that,” she said, kicking at a bit of sod. “He seems delighted by all the action. It’s inexplicable.”

“There’s a reason, Elizabeth,” he said. She looked up at him. “He’s good,and he’s brave.”

“But is it monstrous of me to wish that it was someone else out there in themud, saving the world? Or that the fighting-” she stopped abruptlyand bit her lip. Her eyes rimmed with tears.

“That the fighting wasn’t necessary at all?” he prompted gently.

She sobbed once, but sucked it in. “Is it? Monstrous?”

“Not at all. I wish that we lived in a world where such suffering and pain didn’thave to exist to make a political point,” he said. His own eyes stung suddenly. David said the words to him not so long ago, verbatim. “And that it had not devolved into such inhuman cruelty and mass murder.”

Although he missed his friend to his bones, he was glad that he had not lived to see what Hitler was doing with the Jews. He would’ve wept for them,suffered greatly. And perhaps, fought and died an even crueler death.His stomach gurgled.

“I reckon I’m glad I was born a woman,” she said softly. She looked out at thewater.

“Because you don’t have to fight?” he said. He’d heard so many women say the same thing, and he didn’t think them crass, or selfish. War was ahorror.

“Your friend David. He was a clever lad, like you?” she said.

“He was very clever. And a promising writer, before the war.”

Her eyes narrowed. “A good and just man,” she said. “And brave for stating hiscase.”

“He didn’t succeed,” he said shortly. She noticed his change of tone, anddared to touch his arm.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said. “It’s dreadful to lose a friend.”

“We were brothers,” he said. His lower lip quivered, but he kept himself inline.

“I completely understand,” She said, and opened the locket around her neck.Inside, there was a photo of a couple – young and happy. Both ofthem were raven-haired, and attractive.

“They’re our childhood friends,” she said. “She’s off in America. She leftright before things got really bad.”

He nodded, understanding. “Jewish?”

“Aye,” she said, and closed it. “She gave it to me before she fled. To keep, youknow, until she can return home.”

“Is he fighting the war?” he asked.

“No. He fought his fight,” she said, closing the locket. Her eyes watered again.

“I am sorry,” he said, putting his hand over hers.

“David was okay with you enlisting before he, uh…” she said, starting to walk again.

He looked around, as if there were spying ears ready to hear his confession. But he realized it didn’t matter. He did his duty, and he would continue to due so, despite his reservations.

“I felt the same way he did, before he died,” he said softly. She stopped walking.

“You were a pacifist?” she said.

“Yes. But after he died at the hands of scum for having a gentle soul, I realized that remaining behind as others fought made me no better than those whorun. I’m healthy, and I’m clever, and I love my country. Andmaybe, in the face of such villainy, the wisest course is to activelystand against it.”

She looked at him. “So you’re not a pacifist anymore.”

“I don’t like it. But it’s necessary,” he said.

“I want to believe you,” she said carefully. “I really do.”

“Why did you say that earlier? That you’re glad to be a woman?”

“Because, were I a man, I think I wouldn’t be as eager as my brother to fight,” she said. Before, she wasn’t quite comfortable voicing it. But Captain Howard wasn’t who she originally thought he was.

“Everyone’s afraid. That doesn’t change, no matter which side you’re fightingfor. But you do it. For your country. For your family. To hopefully end the bloody conflict,” he said.

“And the woman sit back and watch the world burn, waiting to sweep up the ashes,” she said.

“That’s poetic,” he said.

“It wasn’t me. An old American Army nurse wrote it,” she said.

“America,” he said. “Land of opportunity.” He was friends with a few Americansoldiers. The stories they spun about hometown pride, apple pie, andmama’s spaghetti made him want to see what they lived. “I want togo.”

“I love Scotland,” she said simply. “I don’t think I’m built for rodeos andbroadway shows.” She was glad of the change of subject.

He chuckled. “Yet you’re a farmer’s daughter,” he said.

“A boring, rich farmer’s daughter. I’ve never bucked a bronco in my life. Itwould be a disaster.”

“You watch too many films, I think,” he said, laughing now.

“I take the kids sometimes to see the westerns or the musicals,” she says. “Itdistracts ‘em.”

He was enchanted by her unlikely kindness. And even more so curious as to why such a woman did not have a husband.

“May I ask you something … delicate?” he hazarded, turning to her.

“What?” she said. “And just in case – of course I buy ‘em some candy, andcrisps. They need to enjoy being children, even in the midst of allthis … mess. And I confess, sometimes, I go see a romantic filmwith the factory ladies. They love a good onscreen snog.”

He laughed as she pursed her lips comically, simulating a kiss.

“And you don’t?” he said, then he flushed. He didn’t mean to be so forward. But she wasn’t offended.

“It’s been a long while since any of that nonsense. There’s no men about.They’re all … gone,” she said, giving him a lingering look. Again, he felt heat underneath his uniform. “Or, they’re old and had it.”

“I’m sure that there’s many a soldier who would find it an absolute delight tocorrespond with you,” he said. The heat rose above his collar. Hisearnestness resonated with her.

“And, what might I have to correspond about? The complexities of teaching a child to multiply? Healthy hair tips?”

“I’m sure he would just be chuffed that you took the time to write,” he said.“And I have a feeling you’re a bit more complex than childhood maths andbeauty tips.”

“D’ye get all that from a conversation?” she said, but she smiled.

“I suppose I got all I need, yes-” he said. Emmett broke through the brush before he could finish his statement.

“I’m out of bullets,” he said, smiling at them both and waving the gun in his hand.

“Good for you,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m heading back. The girls want to change before the dance,” he said, and took long strides toward the clearing. “Gotta drive ‘em home.”

“Dance?” she said, walking after him.

“Yes, there’s a dance in town. The Regency ballroom, for the soldiers,” Theo said.

“Fancy,” she said. She took a few steps and turned to him. “Are you going?”

“Yes, in support of my men,” he said.

“And not for the pretty young women?” she said, smilingwistfully.

“Would you like to step out with me tonight?” he said, not mincing words.

She reddened. Captain Howard was very handsome, and clever, and good, but she had made a promise to herself not to fall for a soldierbecause- she looked in his his eyes, and she couldn’t quite remember.

“I’m a bit old for such revels,” she said.

“No, you’re not,” Emmett yelled from somewhere nearby.

“Mind your business, boy!” she said, blushing harder.

“Good luck with ‘er, Captain. She’s a difficult lass!” he said, his voicefading. He was running across the field and to the house, where theyoung women already waited.

“Tell me you’ll consider it, Elizabeth,” he said, smiling.

“Maybe,” she said, biting her lip. “I didn’t get much notice.” She patted her hair playfully.

“Luckily, we’re close to home. How about we take the long way to the house, and you can tell me then?” he said, pointing to the circuitous path that ran around the field and to her home. She might love a long, slow walk with the handsome captain.

“I think I can do that,” she said. He extended his elbow gallantly for her arm. She waited a beat, then grabbed it.

[mellicose]

Hardy gets sauced at the PD's Christmas party. He says embarrassing stuff. Jumps over a table to punch someone. Snogs a gal. Wakes up with dry eggnog in his beard, and mistletoe twined up in his hair.

That's the story right there.

Beginning,middle, and end.

[mellicose]

A Brighter Color

A DT One Word Ficlet Prompt  Requested by @ladydiomede

“Mercier / Lightning storm / smut“

I don’t know what it is about this particular character. Out of all the different ones I’ve written, Mercier’s the one who always seems to have the best lines. Damn.

He noticed the woman in pink satin as he made the rounds. He smiled graciously at the dignitaries and their wives, but his eye was inevitably drawn to her. Her companion was visibly younger, and in a suit so new it gleamed in the mellow light. She looked at him affectionately as he lit a cigarette and handed it to her. Her lovely mouth curved into an intimate smile.

It moved him. It was strange, in this wilderness, to see such open sincerity. It only made him more curious.

“Who is that?” he whispered to his friend, Artur.

He took off his specs and squinted in her direction. “Ah, yes. Of course.” He put his glasses back on and rubbed his aquiline nose. It was a self-conscious movement that Jean recognized well. He knew her. Well, possibly.

“Shall I introduce you?” he said. His face lit up.

“Please,” Jean-Francois said. He brushed the lapels of his coat and straightened up.

“Milagros!” he said, extending his arms for a hug. “You actually came.”  She nearly tackle hugged him. The people around them wrinkled their noses at the display, but she seemed oblivious to the august tenor of the room.

“Como andas, querido?” she said into his shoulder, then pushed him away. “Wait, I forgot I’m angry at you.” She had an accent, but seemed comfortable with the language.

“Why ever for?” he said. He beamed.

“You promised to visit me often, and I haven’t seen you in over a week,” she said, mock-pouting. He stared at them both, waiting patiently to be introduced. She had tightly curled hair the color of mink, with warm golden highlights. Unlike the other women, she chose not to flatten it down with lacquer, so it curled wildly against her temples and the nape of her neck. Her dark eyes were the same color, as was her skin. The hue and softness made his mouth water. He fidgeted with the thought, until he realized why.

He was craving marron glacé. How long has it been since had the treat? It was hard to remember the last time he tasted that kind of sweetness. Now, all he tasted was the dirty coin flavor of adrenaline as he crawled on forest floors with a gun clenched in his fist.

He wiggled his shoulders, and his joints crackled.

“Milagros, this is-”

She held up her finger for silence as her eyes traveled up his body, taking in every detail luxuriously slow. He resisted the urge to smile. He felt liquid warmth flood his mouth again as they locked eyes. She extended her hand.

“Milagros Zayid Bétancourt,” she said.

“Bétancourt?” he said, holding her hand.

“No slightly racist commentary on my first surname? How refreshing. Anyway, my maternal grandfather is French,” she said. “But please, don’t speak French too fast at me – I only know the bare minimum.”

“I promise I won’t,” he said. He bowed his head and pressed his lips to her knuckles. He kissed a bit more enthusiastically than he usually did. Her skin tasted of iron and almonds. “And I am sorry you’ve had to deal with such unpleasantness in Warsaw.”

“Yes.” He still held her hand, to her ill-concealed amusement. He let go and bowed again. A server passed by holding glasses of red wine. “Wait!” She touched her lips to it and sighed.

“Not up to your usual standard?” Artur said. His voice quivered with amusement.

“It’s not about quality, Artur. It’s about nostalgia,” she said, and patted his chest. “This wine tastes dreary,” she said. “Like never ending war. Like grapes grown in blood-soaked earth.” She made a face and handed him the glass.

“Huh,” he said, holding up the glass to the light. He sniffed it, then drank. “It’s French.”

“Perhaps it’s time to go home, no?” his as yet unintroduced companion said. He tried to put his arm around her waist, but she moved away.

“No! There’s nothing but books and silence there. And more of that dreary wine.”

“I can go and keep you company, if you like,” Artur said, taking another sip. As the wine sat on his tongue, his eyebrow rose. He didn’t taste blood, but iron, and the tannic richness that mimicked earth. As usual, she was right, but said her truth in her own roundabout, poetic way.

“I know exactly what you mean,” she said, and winked at him. “I won’t see your face for the whole of the evening – you only come up for air, and more wine.”

Jean-Francois was mystified. Were they lovers? He was slightly scandalized by her language, but it made her no less interesting.

Artur blushed through his dismissive laughter. “Nonsense! I will live to entertain you.”

“I wouldn’t burden you in such a way,” she said, turning back to Jean-Francois. 

“I feel terribly rude. You haven’t given me your name.”

“No, mademoiselle, it’s entirely my fault. I’ve been distracted,” he said, and gave her his most luminous grin. “Colonel Jean-Francois Mercier, ever at your service.” He bowed again.

“That’s better,” she said, nodding at Artur. “Oh, and meet my dear friend Ricardo,” she said, pointing to her companion. The young man had a steady gaze and a firm handshake.

“A pleasure to meet you, Colonel,” he said, in better English.

“What’s that? A bit of Cambridge?” Jean-Francois said, smiling.

“Perhaps, sir, perhaps,” he said. “I attended university there not long ago.”

“Don’t get him started. He’s insufferable about it,” she said, but she was smiling. “I’m so proud.” She gave him a tight hug. “Not long ago he was clinging to my skirts, wind and dirt-scented, and now he’s a proper doctor.”

“Wind and dirt-scented?” Jean-Francois said.

“He loved to be outside,” she said, and touched him.

“You are too kind, Milly,” he said. “The truth is, I was their gardener’s son. Our fathers grew into great friends, and her father paid for my schooling. He saved my life.” His face was grave.

Milagros waved her hand. “It was a trifle. You’re brilliant, and a mind like yours deserves to be challenged. It wasn’t charity. It was common sense. And, furthermore, it was you who saved mine.” She squeezed his hand. He went from mystified to intrigued. Ricardo noticed his expression and tried to explain further.

“I was still in Cambridge when the worst of the purges happened,” he said. “But Milly was still in Spain, and in grave danger. I snuck back in and got her out before the worst of it.”

“Huh,” Mercier said. “That’s some cloak and dagger activity.”

“Don’t be deceived. I could not have done it without a great deal of help.” He turned to Milagros. “And now, it’s time to take you home. It was a pleasure meeting you, Colonel.” He bowed slightly, and took her by the elbow. He thought it strange that the same woman who hungrily eyed him without shame just minutes earlier would let herself be led in such a way.

“Until next time, Colonel Mercier,” she said, and smiled at him.

“Please call me Jean-Francois,” he said.

“Can I call you Jean?” she said. “The hyphenate is a mouthful.”

He smiled. “Bien sûr,” he said, and bowed again. She was back to bold.

“Artur, do bring him along next time you visit,” she said, and blew him a kiss.

“I shall drag him there, if I must,” Artur said, and caught the kiss in his hand. He’d never seen the middle-aged man act so fanciful. Him and Ricardo shared a meaningful look, and they left. Artur sipped his wine and looked around. The people around them seemed relieved that the couple left, but to him, the ballroom seemed infinitesimally darker.

“You will invite me along the next time you see her?” Mercier said. He grabbed a glass of champagne, and smiled at a young woman transfixed by his dress blues.

“I’m a man of my word,” Artur said, suppressing a grin.

Want more? Click here, or in the link above!

[mellicose]

I wish you’d write a fic....where Hardy initially rejects being comforted by someone but then upon seeing how much his rejection would hurt them- would soften his heart and he’d try for them cos I feel like that’s akin to who Hardy is. esp in s1

The dusklit sea hissed a few meters away. He hugged his knees harder and sniffled.

It was hardest to endure on days like this. Beautiful days. Warm days, but with the promise of winter in the breeze. He felt even more alien, and he missed her wise words, and her laughter.

Ma.

Shame made him wipe his face hard. It had been 35 years. He stared at his wet palm. How did the tears still come so quick? There was a span of time where thoughts of her didn’t torture him. He had a wife. A lovely daughter … a family of his own that he was resolved never, ever to leave.

Like you left, ma. You left us all.

In the end, they left him. His hand clenched to a fist, and another sob made his chest contract. He missed Daisy. She wouldn’t let him slide back into melancholy, but she was miles away, with her mother. He was back at square one, in every way.

Back in Broadchurch, where the past was impossible to escape.

He tucked his face into his knees and concentrated on the sound of the ocean. It was the only thing left, but it flayed him. The sound, as well as the sight and smell. It was a ravaging thing, and he wanted nothing more-

He heard footsteps, and wiped his face and rolled clumsily to his feet.

“Alec,” she said, her brow creased with concern. She was still in scrubs, but her long hair blew loose and silky in the wind, wavy with the braid she usually wore during work. The worry in her eyes was a punch in his sick, sick gut. She must’ve been in traffic for hours to come and see him.

“Grace,” he said, checking his nostrils for wetness. “How’d you find me?”

She stared up at him. His beautiful eyes were pink with tears. After their second date, she knew exactly where he might be when he was MIA, because he told her. It was strange he pretended not to remember.

“I called you after I got off work, like you made me promise,” she started, and threw down her bag. “And for the first time, you didn’t answer.” She pulled off her socks and sighed as her bare feet sank into the sand. “Since you never don’t answer-”

“We’ve only known each other for three months,” he interrupted gruffly.

She was visibly stung by his tone, but she walked a few steps toward the ocean and took a deep breath.

“Do you think it’s too cold? It’s September,” she said, looking back at him with a smile. “I don’t have much experience with English beaches.”

“It’s freezing,” he said, hugging himself.

“Still,” she said, eyeing the creamy foam. The sand stretched smooth and wet for miles. “It’s inviting. Now that I found you, walk with me for a bit?” He grunted. Undaunted, she held out her hand.

“Seriously. It’s really cold,” he said. His lower lip stuck out. “You’ll get sick.”

“Luckily, I work in a hospital,” she said, and winked at him. “Come on. Look at that sand. After 14 hours of work, my feet are aching to sink into it.”

“I don’t want to get wet,” he said, but his arms rested at his sides now.

“Then don’t. You can walk in the dry sand, I’ll walk in the damp. Deal?”

He shrugged, then nodded. They walked quietly for five minutes, then there was a sharp intake of breath as an errant wave swirled high over her ankles.

“Told you it’s cold,” he said, but he stopped. “You okay?” He eyed her soaked scrubs. The wind was getting sharper. 

“It’s fine,” she said, laughing. “I’m used to the cold. I grew up in the midwest, remember?”

“The midwest,” he repeated, fascinated. “So strange.”

“How?” she said, rolling her wet scrubs higher on her legs. Her ankles were pale with the cold.

“I don’t know. It shouldn’t be. We have regions here too. Sussex. Wessex. Yorkshire.”

“Wha’ dirry tell ya?” she said in a deliberately terrible Yorkshire accent. “There’s the ‘ole world at yer feet. And who gets to see it but the birds, the stars, and the chimney sweeps.” She bent her knees and slapped her thigh like Dick Van Dyke.

He snorted. “Awful. But I have a soft spot for Mary Poppins. It was the first film my ma-” his mouth snapped shut, and his face crumpled tellingly. She touched his face, but he shrugged off her hand.

“Alec, why are you here?” she asked softly.

“What do you mean … at the beach?” he said. He fixed his face and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His body language was stiff and remote, and she hated it. She longed for his warmth, but she wouldn’t force it. She felt like an interloper. After what they already shared, the sensation was deeply uncomfortable.

“Maybe. Or maybe, still in Broadchurch?” she said carefully. Now she hugged herself. Another wave reached them, and the cold water made her shiver. He gently pulled her from the wet sand and sat down.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I once had a reason to stay, but now …” he sighed. “There’s nothing left. Yet I feel bound to the place, somehow.”

She nodded, and stared at him as he stared out at the sea. His windblown hair, thick and threaded with silver, was speckled with sand. How long had he been holding vigil by the water? Her mouth filled with saliva when she wondered whether his lips would be salty if she kissed him. And she wanted to, and eat away at the pain that bound him to that place. She was accustomed to aching. But he was fragile, and lovely. He wasn’t built for it.

She stared so intently she didn’t notice he was looking back at her with equal concern.

“What are you thinking?” he said, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

She smiled. “I drove four hours because you didn’t text back,” she said, and rolled her eyes. “That’s not creepy.”

He gave her a crooked grin. “Maybe. But the truth is, I don’t not text back. At least, with you.”

“Now that you mention it, you have that look,” she said, and leaned into him.

“What look?” he said, putting his hand on his chest with mock indignation. He hoped his change in tone would soothe her worry.

“Like the kind of person who changes numbers and don’t let their friends know for a while,” she said. His eyebrows rose, and he sucked his teeth.

“Have you been talking to Ellie?” he said.

“We’ve never spoken. You told me about that, remember?” she said, and sifted the honey-colored sand through her fingers. She watched the sun sink into the water, then turned to him. “Not that it matters. You’re always present for me.”

She searched his face, and her hand ghosted over his jawline, then settled on his cheek.

“Your skin is tight with salt,” she said, and licked the pad of her thumb and rubbed by his nose, where the tears left hoary lines on his skin. She stopped and sucked her thumb. “Sorry. That was gross.”

“No,” he said. He warmed to her unconscious tenderness.

“You made a face,” she said, and bit her thumb. He was salty, but she didn’t taste seawater. Her eyes shone with sympathy.

“I did?” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, and looked at her hands. She felt like burying her head in the sand. Or just going home. His hand slid into her field of vision, and he grabbed one and moved it back to his face.

“I didn’t mind it,” he said. She rubbed at the camel freckles on his cheek. His skin was so soft, despite the creases. And his eyes … they were beautiful. Intense. Deep. And so goddamned sad. Her mouth formed into a swollen O. She wanted to kiss him, half bury him in the sand with her passion.  She felt selfish for it. Was selfish.

“I should go. It was crazy coming here like this. This is your place, your time. I’m sorry,” she said quickly, and stood up.

He jumped up. “No, it wasn’t,” he said.

“Yes, it is. You’re right. It’s only been three months. What do I know?” she said. “I’ll just grab my very unfashionable shoes and be on my way. You can give me a call later, if you like.” She walked, and for 20 steps, he watched her. The first stars of the night shone intermittently over her head. She drove four hours because she was worried. About him. His ex grumbled if she had to ride seven minutes to pick him up from work when she had the car.

“Wait!” he said, and ran to her. He hugged her from behind, holding her tightly against his chest. His breaths made her cheek damp. “How’d you guess?”

She turned in his arms and wrapped hers around his waist.

“I don’t know,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “How did I know that what other people said about you was bullshit at first glance? It was a feeling I got.”

“You drove four hours in shite traffic for a feeling?” he said. He rubbed her back, more and more grateful every second for her warmth.

“Was I wrong?” she said, tipping her head to the side and looking at him. Again, she rubbed at the tear trails on his face.

He looked down, then back at her. “No,” he said quietly.

She licked her lips, then got on tiptoes to kiss the salt from his cheeks. He leaned into her and closed his eyes. She kissed his closed eyelids, then his forehead.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, and finally pressed her mouth to his. “You’re not alone anymore, Alec.”

“Alec,” he repeated, and smiled. “I’m still getting used to hearing it again.”

“You asked me to call you that,” she said, and kissed him again, letting her lips linger.

“I know,” he said, and his hand moved underneath her scrubs to touch her bare back. “I’m getting used to it.”

“I can call you Hardy like everyone else,” she said into his mouth as she unbuttoned his jacket and slid her arms underneath it.

He pulled away and shook his head.”No. Everyone else calls me that. You’re not everyone else,” he said. “I knew that since I first saw you.”

“Did you?” she said, and bit her lip. She wanted to tell him her secrets so badly she trembled. He opened himself up so beautifully to her. He deserved the whole truth, but fear silenced her. 

“Yes,” he said with conviction, and swept her in his arms in a deep, lingering kiss that left them both breathless. “I’m sorry for being a bastard earlier.” He licked his lips. Her hands were fists on his lapels.

“Take me to your cottage,” she said. “I have to be at work at 6am tomorrow, but I want to warm your bed first.”

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. The three months thing. It’s been the best three months in a very, very, very long time,” he said more earnestly, taking her face in his hands.

“Now, Alec. Moonlight’s burning,” she said, and softly bit his lower lip. “You’re forgiven, darling. Now take me to bed. I can comfort you way better there.”

He smiled and pulled her toward the parking lot, where only their cars waited - there was no one else around.

“I’ll follow you,” she said, and kissed his nose before getting into her car. He knocked on the window, and she lowered the glass.

“Thank you,” he said. “For coming. For being so good to me,” he said.

“I’m learning from the best,” she said, tracing his lips tenderly. “Now take me to yours, and out of these wet clothes.”

If you’ve read The Sea Inside, you most probably noticed that Grace/Clara calls him Alec. A lot. And for many, it’s quite OOC, since he hates being called Alec. It’s, like, totally canon.

But…

What if the reason he dislikes using his name isn’t what people think it is? It’s not necessarily disdain for what his parents called him, but him trying to protect himself from painful memories? Maybe he doesn’t dislike it, but random folks calling him what his mother called him is intensely distasteful to him.

I went with that.