#hms medical coding

[kinokoshoujoart]

scribbles based on my Another Wonderful Life file where i discovered Rock and Nami showing up together at Vesta’s farmhouse late at night on multiple occasions to cause various types of chaos and disturbance and havoc until Marlin and Vesta’s bedtime (which they both announce in unison to kick everyone out) this included

Rock levitating and attempting to rizz up vesta

Nami making a beeline for Celia’s room where she stands around making very subtle remarks (celia isn’t even in her room)

Marlin Enduring

haunting crime scene photos of the shenanigans:

[kentoxo]

Could you please make a yuta x reader one where goes violent over seeing y/n get hurt?? I love your fics😭

1000000000% lets do it

pairing: reader (f) x bf!Yuta (aged up)

synopsis: in which you get hurt in a dangerous mission, and Yuta cannot contain his anger

warning: curse killing, cursing, gore-esque imagery. Additionally, potential spoilers?

setting: pre-Shinjuku and kinda pre-Culling (sorry if this spoils anything as well x)

a/n: this is kinda long, im so sorry! i got really into the idea. thank you anon for the sick prompt, and for enjoying my writing! it warms my heart and makes my days so much better to know that you like my works :)

This wasn't your first mission with higher grade Sorcerers.

For a while now, you've been allowed to join the bandwagon of the higher ranks, learning from them and their style of fighting. This came to fruition after Yuji had not only sent a letter of recommendation, but put in a good word in for you when speaking with Gojo and the council. Despite Gojo's concern, since you recently just became a Grade 2 Sorcerer, he trusted Yuta's word. And he had yet been led astray, considering you graduated with flying colors within all your ranks.

Well, until today.

You joined this mission with Yuta, Maki, and Toge. You never felt worried as you were surrounded by Sorcerers with profound knowledge as fighters, cursed users, and cursed weapon users. But you always pulled your own, ensuring to tackle Curses that were much easier for the other three. But in this comfort left room for your naivety and misjudgment to flourish.

"There's glass all over," Maki murmurs, leading the charge through the dim hallway of the hospital. The entire hospital unfortunately had a code black, in which an active shooter entered and caused many tragedies. To this end, the hospital was entirely evacuated and closed up for further human investigation. "Watch your step."

Yuta was behind you all, with Toge and you at center keeping in eye on the rooms you all were passing. The gruesome scent of dried blood and still bodies shot pangs of nausea to your stomach. As you quietly held your stomach, Toge taps your shoulder and offers you a mint. "Thank you, Inumaki," you hum, immediately chewing the artificial menthol.

As broken lights flickered, and medical supplies were sprawled all over the ground, Maki quickly stops. Looking up at the signs for direction, she lets out a deep sigh, "we're here." You were in the ER wing of the hospital, which was reported to have seen the most deaths. "Prepare yourselves for what you're about to see."

You all nod, with Yuta quickly placing a hand on your shoulder. "You two go on ahead," Yuta hums. "I'll send Rika to scout ahead of you." With those words, the Queen of Curses appeared from behind Yuta, her large intimidating frame taking over everyone's shadows. "Please warn us, Rika."

With that command, Rika takes charge, allowing Maki and Toge to slowly follow behind her. Yuta narrows his eyes to meet yours, a soft smile playing at his lips. His hands slide down to your own, and give them a light squeeze. His hands were so refreshing compared to yours, which were clammy with nerves. "Are you anxious?" He asks curiously. You sheepishly nod. "This isn't like you-- you're never this nervous."

You give him a shrug, "m'not a fan of hospitals, and seeing... dead people."

Yuta straightens his lips and nods, "I'm not a big fan myself, especially considering your role in this mission. It is why I stopped us here to talk about it first."

"Hm?"

"It would appear that there is only one curse, a Grade 1 cursed spirit. For this, the only thing we need you to do is identify the lives lost," Yuta hums quietly. His blue eyes dim and he could feel pangs of guilt from your solemn expression. "I wanted to warn you without making you feel incapable. But I believe in you so much that I know you'll be able to do this."

You look into his eyes, the ones that put you in a trance every time. Those damn dak eyes could get Yuta whatever he wanted out of you, despite your feelings and detest. You give him a reassuring squeeze, "I got it."

Yuta's infectious smile returns, "that's my girl." He cups your face into his hands and parts a peck on your forehead. "Let us handle the spirit, ignore it and focus on your task."

You nod, finding peace once again in his gaze. But the soothing air was quickly stripped when Maki's voice is heard from the other room. "Yuta! Y/N! We found it!"

You two quickly rush over, with you trying to brace yourself for the sight. When entering the ER, you noticed how completely in disarray it was. Dividing curtains broken and on the ground, gurneys scattered all over, 50% hosting dead bodies. You hear your breath shake, but concern quickly waived when Yuta patted your back.

"Look at all of their wristbands," Yuta advises. "It's the easiest way to find the victim's name and date of birth."

You nod, preparing yourself for it all. As you did, Yuta left you to join Maki and Toge. You didn't give it too much of a look, as Yuta insists you ignore it. But you noticed an energy emanating from a gurney that felt purposely centered in the room.

As you rushed through each body, numbing your brain from the lifelessness in the room. You tried to keep focused, despite the grunts, groans, and yelling you were hearing from behind you. Yuta needs me to do this, you think to yourself. Focus!

But your nerves were sporadic as you listened to them slightly struggle. "Maki!" Yuta yells, his katana working overtime as he sliced through the spirits power. Maki was immersed in her combat with the spirit, deflecting all its moves in swift, but struggling manner. She was always a clean fighter-- definitely one of the best in the newer generation of Sorcerers. But, even so...

"Ah--!" Maki uses her staff to deflect injury, but the power that poured from the spirit was too strong for even her to stop. She was pushed to her limits, and flung to a wall, the plaster shaping around her beat body. Cuts were now ornate on her body, with some likely leaving scars.

This was the moment you turned and realized the gravity of the situation. Maki falls to the ground, having enough energy to soften the blow. You quickly begin to rush over to Maki, to which Yuta immediately yells at you to stop. "Don't!" Yuta spat. He begins to take over the battle, the distorted-looking spirit beginning to tango with Yuta. "Stay away-- Maki will be fine!"

You gulp from the nerves as you watched Toge quickly make his way to Maki instead. He picks her up and places her in a corner, allowing her to take a moment to breath. Turning around, Toge waits to meet eyes with Yuta. Yuta, with amazing footwork, manages to put some distance between him and the dangerous entity. When his blue eyes meet with Toge's, he immediately pulls down his collar. "Switch."

The two men quickly vanish before appearing in one anothers places. Your eyes widen when you see Toge, blood running down his mouth, begin to fight with the spirit. You look over to where Maki is, noticing that Yuta was already performing Reverse Technique on her. "Rika, go help Toge!" Yuta commands, with Rika quickly floating over to join Toge's efforts.

You rush over to Yuta and Maki, in which Maki was sat with groans and grunts spilling from her lips. Your heart was racing, the feeling in your legs threatening to escape. "Wh-what... h-how can I help?" Your words are imbued with anxiety.

"Keep yourself safe," Yuta instructs, "don't worry about us-- we'll be fine!" He looks over at the bodies you were previously searching through. "Continue your mission, don't stop!"

You nod, but realized you couldn't when you met eyes with the spirit. The abstract being was completely ornate with bandages, syringes coming out of its 'body.' It had one eye that was able to travel around its body, being able to look at all its surrounding if choosing so. Its eye then noticed Yuta and began to advance towards him, ignoring Toge completely. Toge rushed behind it, but his efforts would be futile as the curse was much faster than him.

"Yuta!" You scream, staying in space with your arms spread. Your technique, which Gojo coins as the Onion Infinity, is a technique in which there are multiple layers between two objects. Of course, your strength is dust in comparison to Gojo's, meaning the layers of shield is only a tactic to give you more time to consider your next move.

The curse is stopped by your technique, but slowly realizes that it can claw its way through it. Yuta notices and looks up at you with immense worry, "Y/N, why didn't you listen to me? I told you to continue what you were doing!"

"It was charging at you-- I didn't have a choice!" You argued, your strength slowly depleting with every layer being broken. While Yuta continued healing Maki and expressing his gripe over your defiance, you begin looking around. You noticed Toge on his knees, struggling with the pain in his throat after using his technique. Rika made her way to the curse, but struggles to stop his unrelenting advances towards you.

"Y/N, move out of the fucking way, now!" Yuta screamed. "You're going to get hurt!"

You move, but not quite where anybody was expecting. You run over to a small wheeled cabinet, ripping out the drawers in search of something. After a sea of bandages and pills, you found a dark green bottle. Your eyes drag on the medicines name and quickly look over at Toge.

"Inumaki-senpai!" You shout, throwing the medicine towards his way. As you hurl it, you didn't realize your barrier had completely been broken, and a sharp pain was met in your stomach. The curse had transformed its arm into a stake, piercing your stomach and through your back. Your spinal bones crack at its force, forcing blood to be coughed out.

Yuta's eyes widened, and he went deaf. Only a piercing ringing could be heard for him, putting an entire halt to his healing. Maki sits up, well enough to get back on her feet but not quite all there. She adjusts her cursed weapon, shaking Yuta's shoulders desperately. She shouts with urgency, but Yuta could not hear her.

He felt his world shatter while your gruesome screams returned his sound. He got up, ignoring Maki's touch and attempts to keep him calm. "Yuta, please!" Maki urges, "we're going to get her out of there right now."

He raises a hand, "stay down, Maki. You should not continue to fight with your injuries."

Maki slams his back, "are you insane? You can't take that thing on your own-- it will kill you!"

"Rika," Yuta hums quietly. Rika nods and quickly creates a gap between him and Maki. She clouds over Maki, keeping her from assisting him. "I'm very sorry to do this, Maki. But you are in no shape to continue this mission."

Maki growls, "Y/N is going to die here if I don't help you!" She looks over at Toge, who was downing the throat medicine you passed him. Her eyes widen at your quick thinking. She looks back at Yuta, "how the hell are you going to--"

Yuta slowly walks over to the curse, who finally ripped out its arm from your body. A string of pained curses leave your lips, your entire body going completely hot in discomfort. You could feel yourself go dizzy, but you still find it in you to begin your own Reverse Technique. Its weak and slow, but you had no other choice. You weren't sure whether you were going to make it out or not.

Without another moment wasted, Toge narrows his eyes on the curse and opens his mouth, "explode!" Although it was not enough to kill the curse, it was enough to damage it. The equivalent of blood splatters from its body, the obsidian-colored liquid finding home on the broken floor.

Yuta drags his katana on the floor, the DNA of the curse sticking onto the cold blade. While continuing his stride, Yuta lifts the blade horizontally and swipes a bit of the blood onto his index finger. As the curse writhes trying to regain itself, Yuta consumes the blood and swallows it down like a pill.

"Rika," Yuta begins with a dark, hollow voice. You look over worriedly, the pain of your stomach preventing you from uttering a word. You had never seen Yuta this... furious before. So angry that he almost appeared desolate, depleted of all life. "Lend me your strength over here."

Rika leaves her post, and rushes behind Yuta. Maki takes this opportunity to run to you, taking you into her lap. "H-hey!" She holds your face in one hand and shakes you, fearful of the way your eyes rolled behind your head on their own. Your body was fighting consciousness as you healed yourself, uncertain if it would work at all.

An unfamiliar, strange feeling pours into all of you, with Toge looking back worriedly at Yuta while making his way to you. You force your eyes to stay focused on Yuta, with your mind frustrated with your sudden inability to speak. Tears finally stream out, and you watch as Yuta's curse energy glow around him like a dark aura. Toge ignores it for now, downing the last bit of the medicine before looking down at you, "heal faster."

Though you yourself were exhausted, Toge's cursed speech shot a wave of energy in you. Your Reverse Technique hastens, your flesh slowly making its way to connect with one another again. As your body was making a promising recovery, Yuta's body was being completely coated with his cursed energy.

Rika's arms transformed themselves into stake-like shapes, mimicking the same ability as the foe before them. "Hold it down for me, Rika," Yuta instructs coolly. Rika quickly creates more stakes with her body, using them to push the curse to the ground, and nail it down with her new, stake-like limbs.

As the curse struggled under Rika, Yuta hovers over it and chuckles. "Does it feel good?" Yuta asks in a hum, watching in attempt to get free. It hissed at Yuta's face. "I figured it didn't. The only thing that's going to hurt more than this, is your death."

You look over worriedly at Yuta as your body was near its full recovery. Maki and Toge held you, as you felt restless in this moment. Yuta was furious, and you could barely even talk to try and calm him down. You could only hold your stomach in pain, and watch as your lover relieves his frustration and regret.

He begins to cut away at the curse, using his weapon to chop away at its limbs. Yuta could only see read, and his arms pulsed with yearn to destroy. The curse would screech with each slice of his katana, earning no remorse from Yuta. His face was cold, his body unreactive to the agony that he was causing. Rika no longer had anything to hold down, and stood back as Yuta was faced with just the head of the curse. The once intimidating eye was now shrunk, looking small under Yuta's undeniable strength. It screeches with what you imagine is begging for mercy, but Yuta was deaf to it.

Not that he couldn't hear, but he could not care.

With one hand in his pocket, the other held up the katana right above the curses eye, giving it a few more moments of life. "Die," Yuta mutters. Without another second more, he drops the katana down onto the curse, killing it, and eradicating it from this world. He returns his weapon to the sheath behind him, color returning to his body and eyes as he makes his way towards you.

He takes you from Maki's hold and holds you tight, "fuck, fuck, fuck-- are you okay, Y/N?"

Maki slaps his forearm, "you're hurting her, Yuta."

He panics, loosening his grip as he frantically searches for calmness in your pained expression, "I..." His voice breaks, defeat clear in his eyes. "Y/N, m'so sorry I let you get hurt... I really fucked up this time." Tears coat his dark blue eyes.

You bring a weak hand up to pat his chest, unable to verbally ease his mind. You only lean into him a little more, your heart calming down from his touch. You were glad it was over, and more glad that you were in Yuta's arms.

Maki manages to stand, helping Toge up as well while Yuta stood up, keeping you carried safely in his arms. His strength, despite his immense output of cursed energy just now, felt boundless now. It was almost like he didn't break a sweat.

Maki pats Toge's back a bit, while Toge coughed out a last bit of blood, "she held her own, though. Her strategy to get Toge back into the fight was very surprising, but wise."

Yuta was indifferent, "she could have died from my carelessness. I shouldn't have let her come to this mission." You begin to pat at his chest in defiance but he wasn't keen on hearing you out. "I almost lost my partner. I'm not interested in putting us in that predicament again."

"If you won't vouch for her, we will," Maki insisted. "She understands the dangers of doing this, and still wants to continue her growth. I'd say she deserves to continue these missions, considering she still wants to do them."

"Salmon," Toge manages to say while nodding his head.

Yuta's eyes drop to yours, trying to find some sort of disagreement. But your eyes held conviction and fight. Despite your pale face and weak body, you still held that vigor that made Yuta fall for you in the first place. He looks down at your stomach realizing that your technique was giving out.

"Lets go back and see Doctor Shoko," Yuta hums. Although you were safe and sound, Yuta's grip and hold on you did not relent. His hands still had a bit of shake to them, and Rika was much closer to Yuta than usual. "I'm glad you're still here," Yuta whispers the moment he watched your eyes flutter shut.

hope this was good ahhh

[mwolf0epsilon]

Shadowing Assessments

Cody, sitting down at midmeal with Rex to check up on current affairs: Hey Rex, how are you holding-- Rex, glancing at Cody looking all kinds of disheveled and tired to the bone: Hey Codes... Cody, shocked by his little brother's state: Stars, what the heck happened to you?! Rex, sighing: You know how the Jedi Council decided to temporarily divide the 105th into squads and send them off to shadow other battalions? Cody: Yes? It's to assess their capability to work with other Jedi, since we couldn't be sure they would trust the generals after what Krell put them through. Rex: And you know how the 501st took on their veteran troopers as a squad, because we thought we might have a better chance at connecting with them? Cody: Yes, I remember you being very adamant about it when we were getting squads assigned... Are they not adapting to the new arrangements? Rex, hiding his face in his hands and groaning loudly: That's... One way of putting it... -glancing over to the other corner of the mess hall- Cody, looks as well and gawks at what appears to be a full on brawl between 3 members of the 105th and 3 others of the 501st: What is going on over there?! Rex: So, it turns out that the Jedi were right to suspect Krell's men aren't overly cooperative. They just didn't realize to what extent and, stupidly, neither did we... Cody: Meaning? Rex: Cody, they don't trust anyone. Not even vode. And those who do usually stick to tiny groups. Which means, anything and everything is seen as either a threat or a challenge for dominance. Cody, visibly confused and concerned: D-Dominance? Rex: Krell had a twisted system of some sort. If I got it right then I think you had to earn amenities under him by gaining favor. This means food, sleep, medical treatment and equipment weren't readily given to them unless they pleased Krell in some way. Which means the 105th had to compete with each other at literally everything to earn what little a clone should have available to them... Cody, repulsed by what he's hearing: That's disgusting. And barbaric. How did no one notice this?! Rex: I know, trust me I know and I honestly wish I could get my hands on whatever natborn officers let this slip. The worst part is, no matter how hard I've tried, I haven't managed to get them to see General Skywalker and Commander Tano won't deny them things, or punish them for something as minor as breathing too loudly. Nor will they reward them for bashing each other's faces in over a place in the mess hall line... Cody, looking back at the brawl: Is that why they're fighting over there? For a place in line? Rex, looking at the group: ... Hm, no I think James just felt like antagonizing Jesse. And Fives tried to mediate but he got shoved back and collided with Lobo, who didn't take kindly and attacked him. Which is when Tup and Caprichoso got involved. Cody: ... Should we do something? Rex: I tried but... -points behind him- Cody, looks: Carno, sitting in the next table over staring at Rex while breathing heavily which his helmet vocoder transmits rather threateningly: Cody, blinking slowly: Carno, shakes his still helmeted head slowly in warning: Cody: .... I think we need a new approach to this problem. Rex: No kidding. If they can't work with other clones they won't have much of a future as troopers... And I'd rather not sign off on that kind of flimsywork. Cody: I'm sure we'll find a solution. We just need to figure out what works for them...

[hanjisungfan560]

༉‧₊˚.𝑫𝑶𝑵𝑻 𝑺𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑬

“𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕.”

𝓣𝓞𝓒: Han Jisung, Angst, Break Up, Reader Being a mess, Messy Break up, Drinking, Breaking girl code, suicide.

𝓓𝓔𝓢𝓒: After a messy break up ending in a end of two relationships [Name] is absolutely heartbroken to the point where she had to escape some how, yet no one had expected that escape to be suicide.

𝓐 mess, is what she was. Her messy hair the stains of tears mixed with her mascara that has all melted off due to her sobbing.

“I-I don’t get why he would do this…” she sobbed out into the arms of her friend, as the girl sobbed they quietly took her phone as Mina had read through the messages revealing the several screenshots revealing the relationship between Han and her so called “friend”.

“He’s stupid [Name], he’ll regret it soon enough.” Said Mariah who had took the phone from Mina’s hands and placing it in the table near her.

Did he regret it? Maybe a bit, and he knew that. It still couldn't change the fact he cheated on her after a relationship of four years. Even worse was it was with her best friend of six years. He had betrayed her.

His now “Girlfriend” didn’t feel one bit of remorse for hurting the girl who was once her best friend, she couldn’t care less now that she finally has what she had always wanted, that one desire being Han Jisung.

“Baby!!” Maya squealed softly as she kissed the boys lips, his warm smile quickly got wider as he had kissed the girl back.

Was it all a facade? No, no it wasn’t. He had felt at peace for once in his life, no one had ever made him feel this way before, Maya was the one for him.

“Hey, how are you my?” He asked the girl who replied with “I’m doing better that your here!” She said smiling softly.

“𝐷𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑, 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦, 𝑐𝑟��� 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟.”

The words kept repeating in Han’s mind, those were the same exact words [Name] had texted him with.

It had been a week after the incident had taken place, while Han was living his best life, [Name] on the other hand hadn’t been out of her room in days.

Her room had been clean, but her bed had been undone while the lights remained off with the blackout curtains closed leaving her in the complete darkness.

3 out of the 7 days she had gone out in the late night to go out and get a few drinks, once a few drinks turned into a bit more than a few she couldn’t help but get caught up in drinking leading her to become absolutely wasted while she cried her eyes out silently.

For the past week she hadn’t slept due to the stress and lack of her sleeping pills. Insomnia is what she had suffered from for the past 8 years, but sleeping pills had always put her to sleep or when Han was over his warm embrace had always lead the girl to sleep, but now that he’s gone she had locked her medication away in a random place in the small flat she owned.

“My Heart is heavy now. It’s like a hundred pounds, Lily.” Her voice cracked and shook as she had looked down at the empty bottle of sleeping medication.

“[Name]?” A voice asked through the phone, it wasent Lily nor was it the right number, the contact info had the name of Han, did she dial the wrong number? Yeah, yeah she did.

“Hm?” She slurred as she looked around the room looking at all the posters that had being plastered on her light pink wall.

Everything seemed to be spinning for her, causing her to become quiet while the boy on the end of the line had been asking questions like, “are you ok?”, “are you home?” In a worried tone.

Silence, was all that was heard but it was soon cut off by the sound of the call cutting off.

Worried, utterly worried, is what he felt as he rushed to grab his keys while running to his car that had been turned on by the click of three buttons.

After the 8 minute drive to the girls house he had finally arrived, rushing out of his car and heading into the apartment complex rushing to the elevator.

As he reached the open elevator he had clicked on the 5th floor button, the ride up had felt never ending, an eternal elevator ride full of dread and pain.

When the doors had finally opened he wasted no time in getting over to the girls flat, the numbers burned into his mind “512” his mind repeated while he had ran to the left of the hall scanning the numbers “505, 507, 510, 512!” He whispered reaching the door.

It had been left unlocked. The door opened smoothly no sound, nor any creaking as it opened. The place had been clean but a pill bottle had been left on the floor.

He rushed to a familiar room only to find it empty, that’s when his phone buzzed. A text message appeared from Mina telling him she had been taken to the hospital.

In that moment he realized he fucked up. He lied to himself about loving Maya, but why was it that he only made him feel a certain way. Was it because she had looked so similar to [Name] but acted different.

Hours later, the heart breaking news had been released. The amount of pills had lead to a fatal OD leading to her death.

Heart break was all he had felt.

[cure-icy-writes]

Okay so. A lot of people have been making cute little dungeon meshi aus where it's modern, but specifically the cast lives in one place. Figured I should maybe share mine?

Anyways. Dungeon Meshi but it's midwestern.

-Senshi, i think, is a regular presence in the church but is the kind of christian that the pastor has beef with. He has an apron with two fish and five loaves of bread on it, and can be found at pretty much every barbecue and church potluck. No one's sure if he's really devoted to jesus or just heard the story of a guy feeding an entire crowd and started showing up to church to feed people. He has caused two married men to have their bisexual awakenings.

-The town they all live in has an extremely high density of restaurants, meaning the only thing to do around there is go out to eat. The gang goes out to eat new places a lot together!

-Izutsumi is a warrior cats kid who was probably bullied for hissing and biting the other kids. The gang recognizes that she's not mean, she's just badly socialized and also seventeen. She lives in a group home, but has been running away less ever since she got promised regular meals.

-Related: Chilchuk is a union guy who is covertly making sure every restaurant they go to is up to code. He keeps shutting down places for not having adequate safety measures for their employees.

-Izutsumi has decided she's going to hang out with Chilchuk sometimes and will stop by his workplace. He's insistent that he's not adopting any more children, but has been teaching her how to budget, how to lie convincingly enough to get a job, and the most ethical places to shoplift from with the fewest risks because she's going to steal things anyways.

-Marcille has never been to a cornfield in her life. She's a Chicago kid, who really misses her deep dish pizza and that really good Italian place, but she's here to study some rare microorganisms.

-Marcille studies a very weird field of medicine that involves looking for medical uses in odd places. She's looking to eliminate class divides in lifespan by trying to find more affordable medicines for diseases that primarily affect the lower class.

-Her father died of asbestos poisoning from working in unsafe conditions when she was a kid, so she's especially alert for it, and gets a little neurotic around flu season.

-Laios and Falin used to go to the creek behind their house all the time to catch crawdads, and sometimes he'll still do it for old time's sake.

-Laios flunked out of college because they couldn't handle his autism rizz. He's going to trade school for the culinary arts, but he keeps trying to cook things he shouldn't.

-Laios checked out the massive dragon books from the library and cried when he found out they weren't real.

-He does furry commissions online, but he's not the best with customer negotiations and keeps wondering how many nipples someone's fursona has. Chilchuk helped him build his profile to appeal to commissioners who like speculative biology.

-Falin watched her brother flunk and went "hm, I think I will not." she's an apprentice at a local gardening shop. You think she's a normal sweet cottagecore kind of girl but then she starts gushing about soil nutrients and sustainability and you realize. Oh. Oh this is the kind of girl who would romanticize being buried under a tree and having it consume her bones.

-Laios wears shirts with anatomically correct dinosaur skeletons on them, but he has to order them online and frequently complains that there are no good clothing shops nearby. Senshi heard him say this, and introduced him to fabric paint.

[teddymorgan]

Gregory House - Unwavering confidence

Gay Male Reader x Gregory House

It was a normal day in the hospital, patients in and out, the rare Code Blue and of course, unfortunate passings.

Today felt like any other, especially under the guidance of Doctor Gregory House. A cold, stoic man, uncaring, dismissive and quite frankly, a pain in the ass. He always looks tired and grumpy , he doesn’t care for his patients, but he is an incredible doctor, figuring out the hardest of cases everyday, every second, even on his breaks and holidays. However, there are the occasional money launderers, those who seek out to claim medical malpractice from botched surgeries or misdiagnosed illnesses.

You stand behind Gregory, as he belittles a stubborn, pathetic man, faking mutism from an apparent botched knee surgery rendering him mute. Turns out he has done this to many doctors before House.

With one final comment…..and a swift slap to the face, Gregory walks out, his cane trudging against the floor as he limps out of the room. He turns to you and motions you outside with him. You stumble around, gathering your things and follow him out.

With no subtle changes in emotion, no facial cues, Gregory turns to you,

“The thing I like most about an idiotic day like this, is to eat my feelings, there’s a nice Italian place down the street?”

You hesitate, bewildered at what you believe is an attempt by Gregory to ask you out.

“Yeah….sure”

Greg nods, letting out a small ‘hm’ as he continues to hobble off, swiftly walking into the break room and opening your locker, before you even have a chance to react, he takes your keys from within your hung up coat and leaves the hospital.

“What the fu-….” You mutter as you follow him.

Confused as to how this slow walking asshole has disappeared, your keys in his hand, you let out a tired sigh.

*HHHHOOONNKKKK*

Gregory, from within your car shouts,

“Hurry up, you’re slower than me on a good day”.

You climb into your car, start it, and drive off, the entire time Gregory has what you’d like to believe is an attempt at a very effortless smirk.

“So…….why are you here, House?” You mutter.

“Isn’t it obvious, snail pace?” He asks.

“Clearly not”

“We are going to have a nice Italian pizza, watch a movie, and rest our feet after a long day” He replies, looking out the window, ignoring you.

“We are?”

“Yes, we are, why? Do you have anywhere better to be?”

“……..well…..no”

“Then it’s settled them” He smiles at you like the occasional smug prick he can be, his annoying unwavering confidence fuelling his pride and his now extremely obvious attempt at flirting with you as you pull up to the restaurant.

“After you, Handsome”.

[vodika-vibes]

Round 2 *ding ding ding*

Fives and "Try and get some sleep. I'll stay right here– I won't let anything happen to you, I swear."

Please and thank you, my love 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Safe and Sound

Summary: When you are doing a favor for your father you stumble across a clone who's been drugged and is being hunted for a crime he didn't commit.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader (future)

Word Count: 2185

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: This is a sort of prologue towards the last Fives x Reader fic I wrote.

Divider by Saradika

“This is the place, Checkmate?” You ask as you regard the warehouses thoughtfully.

“Yes ma’am,” Checkmate, a clone formerly from the 91st, replies as he folds his arms over his chest, his sharp gaze flickering around the area, “By all accounts, the warehouses are up for auction within the next tenday.”

You hum thoughtfully, “And what’s your assessment?”

Checkmate is quiet for a moment as he looks around without leaving your side. His gaze lingers on a group of spice addicts for a moment, and he purses his lips, “It won’t be easy to keep the building secure, if you plan to use it for storage.”

“Hm…I agree.” You reply lightly, “What if we demolish the building and build something else.”

“Such as?”

“My brother is always looking for places to set up new clinics.” You reply with a light smile.

A small smile crosses Checkmate’s face, “He is an amazing man.”

“Careful Captain, you’re in danger of swooning.” You tease gently, and then you laugh when he bumps your shoulder with his own, “In any event, I didn’t see any clinics anywhere in the area.”

“Probably because there isn’t one.” Checkmate replies, “You know what businessmen are like.”

You shoot him an amused look.

“Businessmen who aren’t associated with Gryffin Industries.” Checkmate clarifies with a roll of his eyes, “Everyone knows that the people who run Gryffin are about as close to saints as mortals can be.”

You laugh again, “You think far, far too highly of my family.”

Checkmate glances at you out of the corner of his eye, “Your family takes vod’e who are no longer able to do their duty, like myself, and gives us jobs, medical attention, and a place to live. That puts you pretty damn close to sainthood to me and my vod’e.”

“It’s hardly-”

“Both of my legs were blown off, and you gave me prosthetics that helped me walk again. Pretty sure that makes you the Patron Saint of Lost Causes.” Checkmate interrupts with a grin.

“You’re awful.”

“Hm, maybe if you would pick a bodyguard, then I wouldn’t tease you so much.”

“Yes, you would.”

“Yes. I would. You’re baby sister coded.”

You pout at him, and then focus your attention back on the warehouse, “Putting a clinic here would help us win some goodwill with the lower levels,” You say lightly, “Plus we can hire a bunch of people, and piss off some very rich assholes at the same time-”

“What, exactly, did the rich and powerful do to your family to make you all so bitter against them?” Checkmate asks as he watches you buy the warehouse…and then another three just for good measure.

“People like that use their influence to hurt innocent people. And it’s disgusting.” You reply, “And…there. Gryffin Industries now owns about three blocks down here.”

“What are you going to do with three blocks worth of warehouses?” 

“A hospital, maybe? And a park, with a playground.” 

“I’ll just add another check in your ‘destined for Sainthood’ book.” Checkmate teases, and then he tenses, and a scowl crosses his face. “Incoming.”

You turn slightly, and see an irate man stalking over towards you.

“You,” He barks at you, and you arch a single brow, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Actually,” You reply pleasantly, “I own everything in a three block radius. Which means you are trespassing.”

“That’s-” He stops when you lift the badge marking you as one of the owners of Gryffin Industries, and his scowl deepens, “I am a General in the GAR-”

“Unless there are Separatists in my warehouses, I suggest you see yourself off my property. Before I call someone to do it for you.” You say pleasantly. 

“Someone tried to assassinate the Chancellor!”

“Which is a problem for the Guard, not the army.”

The General scowls and spins on his heels, “Fine. Then I’ll call the guard and they can search for him.”

“Do make sure they have a warrant, General.” You say to his back, and you hide your smile when he flinches. He shoots you a baleful look, and then stalks away, and you turn your head towards Checkmate, “Since when does the Army search for supposed criminals?”

“Since never.” He replies, “The warehouses are ours?”

“Yep.”

“Then let’s see what we just purchased.” 

The first warehouse is empty, save for dust and some empty crates. The same for the second warehouse.

But in the third warehouse the pair of you stumble on one of the clones sitting on the floor leaning against a crate. He’s gray and sweaty, and his hands are shaking. “He looks like he’s in the middle of spice withdrawals.” You murmur as you crouch next to him.

The clone, who had a 5 tattooed on his forehead, turns to look at you and seems to look through you rather than seeing you, and you frown and press your hand against his forehead.

“That’s not spice withdrawal,” Checkmate replies, “He’s been drugged. Look at his pupils.”

You frown thoughtfully, “We have spare armor in the speeder, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll go grab it and bring the speeder around.” He turns and hurries away, it won’t take him more than a few minutes to bring the speeder around.

You set your hand on the ill soldier’s shoulder, “It’s okay.” You whisper soothingly, “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Whatever he was drugged with seems to have stolen his ability to speak, as he doesn’t say anything. But he does whine low in his throat, and he slumps over against you, his head landing on your chest.

“It’s going to be okay.” You whisper soothingly as you stroke the top of his head, “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Checkmate returns only a moment later, and with his help you get the ill clone in a set of Gryffin Industries armor, which is much more streamlined that Clone armor, and is painted with dark teal and white accents. 

And then Checkmate carries him out to the speeder and you slide yourself into the backseat next to him. You call the family lawyer as soon as the speeder leaves the warehouse district, and when you hear the glee in her voice, you almost feel bad for the people who cross her.

Almost.

It takes two days for the drugs to leave the clone’s system, and another day after that before he’s actually able to walk and talk properly.

And so, here you are, four days after you found him in the warehouse, sitting at a roundtable meeting with the rest of your family, with the clone, Fives he introduced himself as, standing at the end of the table.

Your father’s smile in kind as he regards Fives, “Alright, young man. Take your time and say what you need to say.”

Fives takes a deep breath, and his hands settle behind his back as he stands at attention. And then he starts to talk.

He starts slowly, and then, when he realizes that everyone is listening and no one is interrupting him, he gains momentum.

He talks, non-stop, for an hour, and when he stops talking the room is completely silent. You lean back in your chair and rub the spot between your eyebrows.

Your father swears loudly, and you understand the sentiment. 

“I know you probably don’t believe me, but-” Fives says, sounding almost panicked.

“No, no. Lad, that’s not the problem.” Your grandfather says in his crisp accent, “The problem is that we do believe you.” He closes his eyes for a moment and then turns his attention to the table, “So, what do we do?”

“We can’t run at Palpatine directly,” Your cousin, the head of security, says from where he's sitting across from you, “He’s too powerful.”

“It’s also too risky,” You brother adds, “With the knowledge of what these chips are for…” He shakes his head.

“You’ve been removing them, right?” Your father asks.

“Of course.” He sounds offended, “Of course, I thought they were more like the Hutt explosive slave chips rather than free-will overwriting slave chips, so of course I’ve been removing them.”

“It’ll be easy enough to send the information to the battalion medics,” You say thoughtfully.

“How would they keep the surgeries a secret?” Your twin asks with a frown.

“They’d have to go slow.” Your brother murmurs, “No more than one or two at a time, and whenever someone is injured, or ill, they take the opportunity to remove the chip. I can reach out to the battalion medics.”

“And what about Palpatine?” Your grandfather asks.

“We can’t touch him until the men are no longer under his thumb.” Your cousin reminds, “For now, we need to pretend he’s no longer a threat.”

“I’ll think on that. For that matter, we’re going to need to make sure that not everyone knows everything. I’ll handle it.” Your father says, and then he pauses, “And what about Fives. He can’t return to the 501st, he has a price on his head.”

“I’ll take him.” You reply after a moment of thought, “You’ve all been hounding me about not having a bodyguard for ages now anyway.”

“Does that work for you, Fives?” Your father asks.

“Uh..yes sir.”

“Excellent.” He looks at his datapad, “Okay, I think that’s enough for now. Get him settled,” Your father says to you, “And make sure he gets proper armor.”

“I will.” You stand and walk over to Fives, “You can follow me.” He nods and turns to trail after you as you walk over to a hidden elevator and you press a button to activate it, “Until you get a proper helmet, we’ll be using the hidden passages and elevators.” You explain.

“That makes sense,” He replies, sounding deeply, deeply exhausted.

You smile at him soothingly as you step into the elevator, and you press one of the buttons. The elevator goes down seven levels, and then the door dings open and you lead him through a richly decorated hall, and you stop in front of a door, “This is my room.” And then you walk a single door down, “This is yours.”

You push the door open, and reveal a proper studio apartment. “This is all mine?”

“Yes. At the moment, nothing is stocked because I haven’t had a bodyguard since I was a child.” You explain, “I’ll make sure food is delivered, and you can use the datapad to order anything you might need.” You motion at the datapad on the counter, “Food, clothes, and hygiene items are included as part of your paycheck. Anything you want for fun, movies, books, games, you have to buy yourself. But that’s what the paycheck is for.” 

“That seems really generous.”

You shrug, “We can afford it. Armor and weapons will be supplied. My twin will get you set up with armor as soon as you’re feeling up to it. We have a paint room with the appropriate colors all in stock.”

“Alright.”

“The bedding is clean, so you’ll be able to sleep in here tonight, or whenever you want to sleep.” You motion towards the closet, “The laundry shoot is in there, generally laundry is returned the day after you put it in the shoot.”

“What’s that door?” Five asks, as he motions to a door on the opposite wall.

“Oh. Right.” You walk over to the door, and press the button to open it, “This door connects my room with yours. It can’t be locked on either side. You have to be able to get to me quickly as my bodyguard, but I also need to be able to get to you quickly for the same reason. The door can be left open, or shut, depending on our preferences.”

“Alright. Can we keep it open? I’m not used to sleeping alone.”

“Of course.” You press another button, and the door locks in the open position, “Any other questions?”

“No-” His sentence is broken by a yawn, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You gently guide him towards the bed, “You should get some sleep.”

Fives hesitates, “I don’t know if I can. I keep thinking that someone is going to swoop in and kill me-”

You very gently sit him down on his bed, “Fives, try and get some sleep. I'll stay right here– I won't let anything happen to you, I swear.”

He hesitates for a moment longer, and then lays down on the soft bed. Fives tosses and turns for a bit, but after you grab his datapad and sit on the side of his bed, he settles a little bit.

He’s still not sleeping restfully, but he shifts and he slings his arms around you, clinging to you like you’re a stuffed animal, and he presses his face against your back, and you heave out a silent sigh of relief when his breathing becomes deep and even.

With Fives asleep, you decide to take the time to go through and place his food order. As well as ordering some clothes and the necessary hygiene things that he might need.

Everything’s going to be alright. You won’t stand for anything else.

[messinwitheddie]

Miyuki does it hurt when female irkens bend/curl their antennas? Is this a “must have” thing or just something one wants to show the difference between the sexes?

Miyuki "It ususlly stings for a day or two. The pain isn't so bad, really. If you feel excessive pain or hear ringing sounds of undetermined origin for longer than 30 hours after bending your antennae, your antennae were probably bent incorrectly. Go seek medical aid before your sense of balance is permanently distorted.

The bigger struggle to deal with after curling your antennae is trying to function while your body regains its natural equilibrium. It rarely takes more than a few hours to get your balance back.

Smeets technically aren't allowed to bend their antennae, but many bend them anyway, either to satisfy an urge to stim or accidentally during physical activity periods. When I was a newly graduated cadet, I bent my antennae myself because, well, I could and I thought I would amazing. That was a mistake. I didn't mind the pain so much, but I didn't bend my antennae evenly enough and I was staggering for days after. My commanders harassed me for it until I climbed to the rank of high foot general.

Now, I have my coordinator curl and bend my antennae. She has mastered the skill; I barely feel a thing when she touches up my bends and curls. I never feel off kilter afterward either.

Mem "Thank you, my Tallest."

Miyuki "There's no law or code that requires a drone to curl their antennae. In the military and armada, it's discouraged because soldiers are meant to dress and function in uniform, but technically doesn't violate any rules. Does one bend their antennae to show the difference between the sexes? That's... hm? Not sure how or where you came across that misinformation.

Plenty of males I've met curled or bent their antennae just to be fashionable. Some occupations restrict Irkens from bending their antenna or bending them further because of the whole losing your equilibrium ordeal. That could interfere with work performance. Safety and productivity first.

In Irk's earlier eras it was only socially acceptable for tallests to bend or curl their antennae. Drones who served on their tallest's personal staff and the birthing drones housed in the tallest's chambers were only allowed to curl or bend their antennae but only in the same style as their tallest.

In our modern era, Irken women usually curl their antennae to honor the late legendary tallest Dava. Dava gave her serving drones permission to style their antennae however they wish. The trend caught on overnight and soon spread to enemy hives. When the glorious late Dava started the whole trend of common drones styling their antennae, there was a lot of social backlash. In most hives, smaller drones who bent their antennae without permission were arrested and executed for treason. Now, it's common place. I won't bore you with any more history lessons.

So, um, yes, I suppose one could argue curling the antennae indicates gender because it now honors late Dava's memory and she was Tallest of Legendary status who was also a woman, but again, it's not the clearest indication of gender because many Irken men also curl their antennae. We Irkens honestly do it because we can. That's my theory."

*sorry my au Irken lore is so long-winded.

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Hm so as I’ve seen many people lump Sakura in with Naruto and Kakashi as ‘bootlickers who ignore all the state’s atrocities in favor of keeping that status quo’, so as both a radical and a Sakura fan I’d like to share why and how I think Sakura could be turned into a radical character.

This isn’t gonna go very deeply into her fighting abilities or any of that, it’s more an analysis of her personality and narrative role than anything.

So I think one of the main points that attracts me to Sakura taking a radical direction is, unlike Naruto and Kakashi, she’s so rarely allowed any agency outside of male character’s desires. Like there’s multiple points where Sakura is about to do something or go fight, especially during Pt 1, where she’s stopped by someone while Naruto, for example, isn’t given any of the same opposition. While her willingness to drop her plan as soon as an authority figure demands it are something I’m going to further address, the fact remains that more often than not Sakura is only allowed agency so much as it benefits the male characters (ex, yelling at Sasuke to spur him out of his fear to fight Orochimaru).

This lack of agency is continued on throughout Shippuden. While Sakura’s delegation to the sidelines isn’t as noticable (as it’s often just that she’s barely there at all or is visible but doesn’t contribute to the plot), Shippuden Sakura is again not allowed her own voice in the narrative. She’s never given vital pieces of information (ex, the truth about the Uchiha massacre) that would allow her to actually position herself within the story the way Naruto, Sasuke, and Kakashi are able to do so. We don’t really know what Sakura’s reaction to the truth of the world around her would be, unlike Sasuke (fight again the oppressive forces) or Naruto & Kakashi (favor the status quo), because she is never able to find said truth out.

What damns this even more for me is that there are instances of Sakura breaking out of the Shinobi conditioned mindset sometimes!! The clearest is during the Wave arc, where her sobbed uttering of the Shinobi code as she thinks Sasuke is dead is used outright to question the morality of the shinobi system (side note there’s a reason Wave is imo the best arc). Sure, you could chalk it up to her being a wimpy and emotional 12 year old, but her emotions are directly used here to point out the cruelty of the shinobi system. There’s a moment like this again at the end of her fight with Sasori as well, where Sakura demanding the value of life is met by Sasori asking her if “that’s what a shinobi should be saying”. Again, this is proven by Sakura’s hesitance to stab out Obito’s eye - Sakura’s value for life and compassion have, multiple times, been used to question her position in the shinobi system. But we never really get to see this come to fruition because Sakura is not given the agency nor the information to do so.

In fact, I think if given the information like the true cause of the Uchiha Massacre, Sakura would become radical fairly quickly. She’s very good at memorizing and researching huge amounts of information, she’s noted to be observant and good at noticing details, and she’s incredibly stubborn and wouldn’t be put off if the information was hard to find - the qualities that made her an excellent academic student and medic would make her very good and finding out what she needs to. Additionally, Sakura is shown to have very little loyalty to the state at all. She offers to choose her friend/romantic interest/cared person Sasuke over Konoha twice and seems to genuinely mean it, which shows me that the only real reasons she remains loyal to Konoha are a) many of her precious people (ie, Ino, Tsunade, Naruto, Kakashi) are in Konoha, b) she’s grown up there and it’s easiest, and c) she’s been given no real reason to question it. The violence she seems at least a bit uncomfortable with could be a reason, sure, but as far as Sakura’s seen almost everyone partakes in that, even the revolutionaries.

However, I think if given something that forces her to seriously reconsider her worldview of Konoha as, if not the good guys then a lesser evil to be loyal to, something that forces her to choose between her value for life and her care for her precious people and the state, I think she could very well be turned into a revolutionary. Sakura’s not against enacting violence, but she is shown to have a value for life that the shinobi system ordinarily discourages (one that I do believe she had even prior to her apprenticeship under Tsunade). Playing on this as the catalyst and using her academic skill could turn her into a radical character easily.

However, in order for that to happen, her arc would have to confront what I said I’d address earlier: Sakura’s adherence to authority regardless of her personal wishes and lack of faith in herself.

These, I think, play into each other. While there’s speculation about Sakura’s family and abuse, what we do know from canon is that Sakura was both a teacher’s pet and a bullying victim from a young age. Both of these reinforce this part of her personality; the bullying hurt her self esteem and her faith in herself (and if we go by the anime movies, her emotionally abusive parents sure weren’t helping in that regard either), and being a teacher’s pet allowed her to get the validation her broken self esteem craved so long as she did exactly as the authority figure told. I think for a lot of ‘gifted kids’, we either grow up strictly abiding by authority as it’s what got us positive reinforcement growing up, or we go in the complete opposite direction and trust no authority at all when it inevitably fails us.

Is it as exciting a backstory or reasoning for her personality as some of the other characters? No, but it’s what we have. Sakura is one of those kids, with an academic performance that got her validation as long as she was obedient, and her peers (and parents) hurting her self esteem so she couldn’t trust her own opinion anymore. I think this is why she’s so quick to back down whenever someone she sees as more qualified or in a higher position than her demands it. I don’t think this was ever actually addressed in the show or manga, tbh. I think this would be Sakura’s main barrier to radicalization; her arc would need to be her gaining confidence not just in her abilities, but in her own opinions and personality, and learning that authority figures are not to be trusted.

Anyway, I think Sakura is a very interesting character to take a radical route. You just need to understand her character and motivations.

[mychlapci]

Im supposed to be going to sleep bc I just got off night shift so sorry if incoherent or with errors but I was just struck by the thought, as per that last ask I sent with megaratchlock + hot rod (I'm also hyped youre writing something - lets both feed this absolute rarepair)

But yeah so:

Hot Rod taken in by the decepticons bc his ass got grabbed too and I mentioned in the tags of my rb that he would just claim he can totally top megatron too

Hot Rod, convinced hes gotta be some kinda milf magnet now: trust me. This is for the War Effort. Prime will even give me a medal if I can slow down the Decepticon advancement by knocking Megatron up

Ratchet, who just spent the last 3 hours convincing Megatron not to kill Hot Rod bc he's just a young and dumb bot doing his best to be helpful to him and Deadlock/Drift due to them both being sparked: you WILL die

Hot Rod: what a way to go tho 😩 bet its tight

Ratchet: youre going to die because IM going to kill you-

And Megatron is... Considering Hot Rod because hey he's already got the autobot medic sparked, why not keep going- (and Ratchet def asks if the new Decepticon plan is to just knock up every autobot he can)

So for a while Megatron and Hot Rod are just kinda 🤼 at each other bc both refuse to back down.

But because Megatron went and pulled an absolutely INSANE stunt like openly breaking into an autobot base, kidnapping a defector, the already carrying medic and Hot Rod, high command are freaking out. V much clashing with the whole /freedom/ part of OP's motto. So Megatron has gotta go deal with that.

And enters the dark horse: Soundwave

Bc if he had hair he'd be tearing it out after the shit Megatron has pulled with TWICE kidnapping Ratchet and now additionally Hot Rod. And SOMEONE had to be looking after Deadlock's sparkling when he had "defected" bc obv Megatron was busy planning to get his mates back.

And now he's stuck monitoring the two autobots they've got in the base whilst Megatron is away, one of which is about to pop out ANOTHER sparkling he'll have to care for.

And of course reckless Hot Rod just HAS to frustrate Soundwave with his antics because fuck being spied on to the point it reaches a boiling point and

Ratchet, bed bound bc that sparkling will come any day now: have you seen Hot Rod anywhere?

Deadlock, happily tending to his sparkling: hm. About an hour ago? He was at the command centre making new cassettes with Soundwave

Ratchet: what?... WHAT?!

All to say that nothing has disproven Hot Rod's milf magnet theory (even tho he'll shortly be joining the club)

Hot Rod has exactly 0 fucking self-preservation instinct in this scenario and I love it. But tbh getting to spike both of Megatron’s sparked up mates and not getting punt into the ground by Megatron’s fists afterwards would make a mech feel special. 

He is so convinced he’s gotta knock up Megatron now. And he definitely isn’t very subtle about it, which amuses Megatron greatly and now he’s actually considering sparkling up Hot Rod as well, because he already has two mates, and he could always keep three by his side. Deadlock and Ratchet already seem to be fond of the kid, after all… Of course nothing happens between them for a loooong time because they’re too stubborn and also Ratchet and Deadlock keep getting in the way. 

I love Soundwave coming in. He’s already lost all faith in Megatorn’s sanity the moment he had the medic tend to a sparked up Deadlock for the first time, now he’s pretty sure that siring coding had turned Megatron into a loose cannon and what’s worse is that he’s forced to babysit his sparklings when Megatron is gone and his mates are too exhausted by their own carrying. I think this is where Hot Rod steps in because he’s not knocked up (yet) and he’s pretty sure Soundwave is spying on him anyways, so why not shove himself into his face, if he’s so fucking persistent? Cue Hot Rod doing something incredibly stupid, such as trying to knock up Soundwave, since the Megatron thing didn’t seem to work out, and Soundwave is very willing to have a good hate-fuck. Damn Hot Rod, he gets why Megatron’s stupid boyfriends have chosen him, kid knows how to pump a mech full of transfluid…

Honestly, Megatron and Hot Rod are now in a race of how many members of the enemy faction they can impregnate before the war ends… Megatron gets one up on Hot Rod though, because oops, you know he knocks Hot Rod up. Now he’s in the early stages, Ratchet had just popped out his first, and Deadlock is about to have his second.

Add a knocked up Soundwave and soon enough Megatron gets to sleep surrounded by four pregnant bellies… Call that a lucky sire.

[vaguely-concerned]

A Stitch In Time First Read Reactions & Thoughts Monster Post Part 3

Stumbling over the finish line if not in style then with enthusiasm!

Part 1, Part 2

- Odo looked as if he could use a spell in his bucket; I had rarely seen him looking so run-down.

<3 I love one goo man 

“I’d better get this information to Captain Sisko,” Odo decided.

“Would you rather I tell him?” I offered. Odo looked positively drained; he needed to return to his liquid state.

Every time Odo is changeling-sleep deprived Garak starts to hear kill bill sirens and flash back to ‘the die is cast’. It is kind of sweet that he seems to be worried for his friend and not trying to gain an advantage or sneak around here tho. 

The ironies of the situation both amused and irritated me. Here I was, the invaluable decoder of Cardassian encryptions containing life-and-death information for the Federation—and they won’t trust me with the code to wake up Captain Sisko. Ah well, it was never easy being a Cardassian on this suspended chunk of desolation. And then I laughed out loud. But what about Odo? The last time I looked he was a changeling, a member of the race of Founders that was determined to destroy the Alpha Quadrant. Not only did he have the captain’s wake-up code, he also slept with the station’s second-in-command.

LMAO you know what fair fucking point garak. Tbf I’m sure there are some people who’ve been assuming you’ve been fucking the chief medical officer too 

But if Damar had thrown his support to the rebels … if it wasn’t a ploy… I wanted my revenge on him, yes, but not at the expense of liberating Cardassia. And it wasn’t just liberating the planet from the control of a foreign power. It was closer… more personal. I wanted something that was even more difficult to attain—redemption.

The doors opened, and once again I was alert as I stepped into the deserted corridor and moved past the sleeping quarters to my own. It was time, I kept repeating in my head. It was time to take our place among the planets and peoples of the Alpha Quadrant as a civilized and open society. It was time to repair the damage. “A stitch in time saves….” What? What was that expression?

*pats him very gently and lovingly on the head* This man can unironically fit so much character development in him

“You’re Khon-Ma, aren’t you?” She didn’t respond. “Being the only Cardassian on this station, I expected you a long time ago. What kept you?”

She should shoot you actually just for this

I stopped. What’s the point, I thought. All the stories were beginning to run together and they all had the same ending.

Smoking gun of ‘hm I think there might be some unreliable narration still lingering here’ lol. In a way all but openly admitting that like this is probably more like telling the truth for garak than telling the actual truth would be. From how we see him interact with Toran in the show I buy that the emotional truth about this is basically as he tells it tho — I think he’s angry and disgusted with himself more for having been unable to stop something from happening and taking that as being as responsible for it as the asshole who caused it, rather than actively making it happen himself. That’s the kind of pattern he has in so many other places in his life too, trying to navigate in the very limited space and with the very limited agency being submissive to personalities like Tain and Toran leaves you. 

“And they were all killed,” she said even more softly.

“End of story, Remara.” I considered telling her how I had exacted my own revenge upon Toran, and that my only regret was that his death hadn’t come sooner… but what was the point? Another treacherous opportunist dies after tearing another hole in the fabric. What’s gained except the potential for more damage? I rose. The station’s gravity felt like it had increased threefold.

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with. One way or the other I’d like to go to sleep.”

“Who gave the order?” she asked.

“What difference does it make? I did, if you like.”

Remara just looked at me. She lowered the phaser. Part of me was deeply disappointed. 

The ‘has he been thinking with his horny brain this whole time or is he passive-actively suicidal’ conundrum. I suppose there’s nothing saying it can’t be both but I also think it’s more on the second side than he’d like anyone to know. I guess there’s no easy way to tell the guy who saved your life that you don’t really care that much for said life most days, and if you were offered some plausible deniability…

“You’re going to have to leave this station. They’ll keep coming after you until someone succeeds. Goodbye, Elim.” She put her hand against the side of my face, and I felt the heat coming through. Perhaps her passion was a curse as a terrorist, but she was a whole person … and she had found redemption.

Chewing on the idea of being a whole person vs. ‘unfinished man’ and ‘mosaic person’ 

- Gul Toran is someone Tain has warned me to monitor periodically.

Ah so Four Lubak is the future Gul Toran (the asshole in the Natima Lang ep if I remember correctly)! I see. That also means his snarking about Toran being made Gul is entirely performative he’s known about it for years lmao that was literally just to be a bitch  yes wonderful

- The fact that Tain has an evil Romulan twin/soulmate and they hate each other fdskjfhdsa

- So interesting that it does take until middle-age and Palandine’s extended presence in his life before Garak’s sense of humor really emerges fully. It seems such an integral part of him in the show, it sure is Something that it basically had to be carefully tended to and supported like a lil flower by careful gardener’s hands (thank you Palandine I’m sorry your life is a nightmare) 

- But I must confess that the toast proposed by proconsul Merrok left me feeling much better about the whole affair.

. . . 

“At first I couldn’t think why you hated him,” I confessed.

“I don’t hate anyone, Elim,” he carefully explained. “I have a job to do—and sometimes it’s necessary to eliminate those enemies who can’t otherwise be dissuaded. And he was determined to block our interests at every juncture.”

“I don’t hate anyone” says man composed of about 98% hate per volume

“Oh yes, my boy—yes, you did excellent work. A job well done.” He had never complimented me with such unconditional enthusiasm. It was almost a demonstration of paternal pride.

“You see, I had this planned for a long time, Elim. But Tolan wouldn’t agree. He wouldn’t take on the assignment, and he wouldn’t pass on the information. But thankfully he trusted you, Elim.” Tain patted me on the shoulder, which meant I was dismissed.

Weaponizing Tolan’s memory against him. Fucked Up. 

- Fear and isolation, Doctor. You can’t have one without the other. Fear isolates and isolation is fear’s natural home. Just as my orchids need carefully prepared soil to protect them against disease and pests, fear needs the isolated circumstances to deepen and grow without connective or relational interference. When fear is allowed to flourish in its dark and lonely medium, then any evil that can be conceived by the fearful imagination will emerge.<

This whole chapter is so fucking good, and it starts slapping right from the beginning. The way this works not only as a description of the larger crimes of Cardassia, but also the shape of his own life. 

‘My orchids’ is very sweet, and a phrasing that occurs several times. 

My feelings are spent, my moral rationalizations are empty, and I can’t say it’s not my problem when I’m pulling and lifting and throwing bodies of people who once only wanted to go about the business of their lives.

His life has been a series of violent deconstruction followed by reassembly of the broken pieces, and this should have been the most shattering of all but it comes across as almost peaceful. He finally gets to have his soul to himself enough to make something meaningful with it and put it together in his own time and in the shape of his own truth, even in the middle of such a painful realization.  

Colonel Kira once told me how many Bajorans died during the Cardassian Occupation, and my mind rejected the figure like a piece of garbage. We’d been in the service of the state, I had told myself, and the state had determined what was necessary. But now I understand why she hated me. More important, I now understand that constant burning, almost insane look in her eyes.

. . . 

Most of us who are left, Doctor, are insane. We have to be in order to survive and emerge from our isolation. It’s the only way we can live with the pain of what we did. Or didn’t. Each of us accepts the amount of responsibility we are capable of bearing. Some accept nothing, and these people are quickly swallowed by their isolation, their insanity transformed into a rationalized evil. A smaller group accepts total responsibility, and their insanity is an unbearable burden that cripples and eventually grinds them down. The rest of us carry what we can and leave the rest. For myself, Doctor, when a corpse is too heavy to bury I try to remember to ask someone to help me.

This man can hold so much fucking character development 2 electric boogaloo and HOW!! Imagine early seasons Garak saying anything like this! Even while I’ll also buy that early seasons Garak does have the capacity to get to this point in the end after enough work. AND the way it goes with his dream of Cardassia as a mass grave earlier/later on in the book — which also sort of indicates that the person he’s asked to ‘bury these bodies with’, as it were, before, was specifically Bashir. ‘You taught me to ask for help’. I’m so fucking soft for all the ways Garak is showing him that he touched his life in the very best and most beautiful way anyone could, no matter where they go from here.  

- “I don’t know. I suppose I’m just trying to reconcile statistical analysis with Romulan gardens.” We lapsed into a long, stony silence. Usually she knew better than to expect a real answer when she did ask about my working life. We both tried not to venture into certain personal spaces; often the attempt functioned as a barrier. I’m sure she knew that I was more than a data analyst at the Hall of Records. She also understood that the less she knew about what I did the more chance our relationship had to survive. For the same reason I never asked about Lokar. The less information, the less damage if either one of us was betrayed.

Garak that’s kind of sloppy, of course she knows something’s up if you’re making it that easy to figure out lol

Another interesting detail: Palandine seemingly never learns that Tain is Garak’s biological father, then. Very emblematic of the way all those secrets were still getting between them despite their best efforts. And lending even more meaning to the fact that many years later he lets Julian find out in uh perhaps the most direct way possible haha. 

“I’m of two minds. I know, that’s just another way of saying that I’m confused.”

Huh. I wonder if the way this is phrased suggests that that’s not a common expression in Cardassian and he’s translating it directly from Standard or something, or that his uh. Mental confusion/dissociation/fragmentation pops up enough that she’s familiar with it already here? 

“Yes. What if they’re right? What if they could help us reclaim something noble in ourselves? Where does that leave us?” We stood looking at each other. The night wind gusted through the foliage and I wondered where I’d be if I didn’t have this woman’s friendship.

What a soft way to describe it. Really drives home the like. Wholeness of what she meant to him. 

“It was a while ago, Palandine. I don’t know if they’re in the same place … or if they even meet tonight.” Her enthusiasm rendered me as helpless as it did when I first met her.

Julian/Palandine parallels time yet again 

I looked at Palandine, and she now radiated with such light that I turned away, inexplicably embarrassed as if I had seen something I shouldn’t.

So sad somehow that they kind of drift apart in this scene, where Palandine finds something that helps her and he mostly seems to come away lost and confused, if cleansed. (and he still can’t cry with someone else in the room) 

After Palandine had left, I had spent the rest of the night sitting in the Grounds near the children’s area.

How is this so goddamn sad fhkjshfa. They’re still just children, and no one is going to come pick them up from the playground, no one is going to protect them

- “Yes, of course,” I replied. I took a deep breath, and my disparate parts began to snap back. 

Adrift from himseeelf. This is kind of what I meant about Palandine maybe picking up on some of his — this stuff. Which structurally pops back up in The Wire too, with how he tells the stories. 

“You look like you’re not eating anything,” Prang observed. If Tain was the father of the Obsidian Order, Prang was its mother.

LMAO. And he’s constantly worried about his saddest son I guess. Tain/Prang most cursed DS9 rarepair idea???

- His other hand was now probing my skull behind the right ear. The man’s ambidexterity was impressive.

Lol diversity win: the mad doctor about to implant you with experimental tech is ambidextrous!

Oh. Oh no it’s the wire time. The fact that he’s one of the first agents fitted with it b/c his hindbrain distress tolerance is too worryingly low  for their comfort…

When I tell you that this wire will give you no trouble, as long as you don’t meddle with it, you can believe me. You know that, don’t you, Elim?”

“Yes, I do, Mindur.” The man had never given me anything but superb technology and sound advice. “Please continue,” I submitted.

“Good boy.” Timor thumped my shoulder again.

HORROR SHOW CULTURE ONCE MORE and also. Praise kink revisited and made more interestingly fucked up. Also submission theme thread. 

Do you think he’d meddle with the wire eventually even if he hadn’t been exiled. I feel like there’s a non-zero chance of that.  

- I remembered the Hebitian frieze and its lush background. Of course we were different people: it was a different world. The more the forests receded, it seems, the more we covered ourselves. Their world didn’t need an agent of the Obsidian Order to investigate a group of prominent Cardassians who “happened” to be spending their vacation together. It didn’t have Enabran Tain targeting one of his bitterest enemies, Procal Dukat, a powerful member of the Central Command. And I’m certain it didn’t have fathers who refused to acknowledge their sons. If we lived on the next spiral of the cycle of life, how did we know it wasn’t going downward?

a) ‘what if the glass is not only half-empty but also leaking’ yes very cheery Garak and b) one of the rare times he lets not just his bitterness with Tain but also his longing to be acknowledged by him fully shine through. To me it seems like that’s the one thing that’s still too raw for him to dwell on in this narrative. He mostly doesn’t get into or sit with the pretty obvious fact that he loved Tain, and desperately wanted Tain to love him too. You can see the traces through the whole thing of just how angry he is with him now that he’s dead (GOOD! HE SHOULD BE! HE SHOULD BE ANGRIER; IF ANYTHING!), but that particular element of it seems too vulnerable to keep in sight most times

- PYTHAS IS BACK BA-BEY! 

His grace was even more refined as he moved to the small house that was our assigned base of operations. If anything could have taken my mind off downward spirals it was the appearance of Pythas. 

And the mutual crush endures (also with me I love a sneaky little twink)

“What was good for you, Elim, was usually agreeable to me as well,” he wryly observed.

The way Pythas is like Garak’s shadow — except in Garak’s eyes he does everything ‘right’, he doesn’t seem to have that same aching need for connection, he follows his orders easily, he’s perfect and he reaps the rewards Garak never gets. Garak never even resents or begrudges him any of it. And yet they end up in basically the same place when all’s said and done, in the ruins of Cardassia, and Garak might even win out b/c his trials with the mortifying ordeal of being known mean he has some people in his life he’s starting to truly trust, the way Pythas seems to with Nal as well. Thinking. A lot of things. 

Over the years, his modest demeanor and quiet ways had turned him into more of a solitary person than I ever was. I had learned to withdraw my presence as a tool, but I was always aware of my need for contact, and that my value as an operative lay in my ability to engage others in a nonthreatening manner that drew them out. Pythas had learned to withdraw his presence as a way of life—and he moved through the world like a shadow. I was not surprised that Tain had recruited him for the “invisibles.” It took a special person to be able to operate in such unrelentingly anonymous circumstances—no family, no fixed base or identity—and there was no doubt in my mind that he was one of the most brilliant agents in the Order. Our relationship picked right up where it had left off at Bamarren. Other than Prang, I have never met anyone where so much was communicated with so few words. His eyes had a depth and eloquence that told me everything I wanted to know. How ironic that my lust for conversation was satisfied by someone who rarely spoke.

Ah, so if Palandine is the proto-Julian, as it were (and Parmak is the silver fox Ersatz Julian), Pythas is definitely the anti-Julian as well as Garak’s shadow hahaha. 

- Garak is undeniably a city boy at the end of the day haha. Pythas help him out there in the jungle he doesn’t belong here I understand why you’re so worried

- In a way it was touching: the old man reverting to the mind control exercises he had learned as a child.

Garak. The warning bells. Should they perhaps be ringing merrily in your mind at this combination of words and letters. Oh well. 

- “Yes, it’s me.” I squatted so that I was at eye level. I tried to soften myself, round off all the sharp edges.

Yes yes yes this is such a good description of that Thing he does. His ‘just a lil guy/tailor/gardener/funny spy man’ move

‘Carriers of disease’ and spreading poison motifs are back. Dukat Sr. uses it here to describe cowardice/Federation ideals/hashtag the SJWs/the forces that threaten to disrupt the status quo of the fascist state. 

- I left the containment field in place and stepped outside to clear my head. No matter how objective I tried to remain, I could never remain totally unaffected by another man’s horror. Fear was a contagious disease.

This seems right to me — I don’t think anyone who could truly shrug off other people’s suffering would have to make up such webs of justification and alienation as Garak does to do what he does. Maybe that empathy is why he’s so good at it and also why it messes him up so bad over time 

His *Working 9-5 slowed down & with reverb plays softly in the background* vibe about it is undeniably kind of funny tho

Contagious disease thread cont too, and not the first time fear is spoken of that way

“Who are you?” he asked for the second time, fighting against the toxin’s effect. This was one tough old warrior.

“Your worst nightmare,” I replied.

“Ah,” he croaked. “Then Tain sent you.”

- YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE fhdkjshasjh good for you Pythas isn’t there to hear it that is so embarrassing Garak (affectionate)

- Garak dreaming of being buried with the still-whispering mass grave of Old Cardassia… what the fuck I don’t think I’d sleep ever again after that haha

Of all of the people he dreams of, most of them are dead (or potentially soon about to be dead? Not entirely sure how that works out for Mila in particular. And I guess we technically don’t know if Calyx is dead, but after so long it seems very likely), except as we find out later Pythas. And Palandine isn’t there. 

NO. NO YOU CANNOT TELL ME THE FIRST THING HE DOES IS CALL JULIAN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT  W H A  T 

“It’s not a medical emergency. Please, I realize this is an imposition.” There was a silence and I heard another voice in the background. Ezri Dax. A muffled conversation. The Doctor cleared his throat again.

“I’ll be right over,” he said.

This is so melancholy I want to disappear into a puddle of quiet yearning and never come back to solid form just put me in a bucket like the Odo. 

This is also the first time in this book Garak has asked Julian for help rather than Julian trying to approach him to give him help (and being rebuffed). He’s called for and he comes :’)

He gave me his puzzled look, which wrinkled his brow. I was always amazed at how deep the furrows were for one so young.

Soft little detail time yet again. Garak has been sitting across Julian for years just looking at this face and picking out new details. 

“ ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’” he quoted.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Shakespeare,” the Doctor replied.

“Hmmh.” I nodded in agreement, surprised that for once the author of the politically misguided Julius Caesar made sense.

Fhdskhfskjdfhsdjak you say that as if you didn’t quote the politically misguided Julius Caesar to your father’s face on a burning spaceship as you for the first time truly saw that he was as fallible as anyone else and invoking Bashir’s name in the process Garak

“Of who we are, Doctor. Our being. Human being. Cardassian being. But we have become these beings—are becoming, always in the process of becoming—on these other dimensional levels that are not limited by the measures of time and space. And the great determining factor of our becoming is relationship. Unrelated, I become unrelated. Alienated. Opposed, I become an antagonist. Unified, I become integrated. A functioning member of the whole.” The Doctor was thoughtful; his previous agitation had dissolved.

“You’re a scientist, Doctor. You have a deep understanding of this level. I don’t mean just the mechanics. You understand about relationship, the laws that attract and repel, the combinations that nurture and poison. Health and disease. Integrity and breakdown.”

“In your dream,” he said, “I presided over the burial of yourself and the people you were most intimately related to. Why?”

“You said, ‘for the good of the quadrant…. they must never be allowed to return.’ Why would you say that?” I asked.

“I can only think that….” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Garak. This is not easy for me. I still can’t help thinking this was your dream. Even if I was invited … you were the playwright.”

“Yes, but put yourself in that part. Why would you bury these people and cover up the pit?” The Doctor looked at me in frustration. “Please. Indulge me. It’s vital that I have your answer.”

“If you and the others were carriers of some disease,” he shrugged. “In our fourteenth century on Earth there was a terrible plague, the Black Plague, which wiped out half of Europe’s population. People believed that the dead bodies had to be destroyed, burned … buried … because it was the only way to prevent the spread of the disease….”

. . . 

The Doctor was studying me with an interest in his face I hadn’t seen in years.

“Well? Is it the Black Plague, Doctor? Or just the ramblings of an old spy on the eve of battle?”

“You’re an amazing man, Garak.”

“And my gratitude to you can never be adequately expressed. But I shall try,” I promised.

“Please. What have I done?” he asked genuinely.

“That time you extended yourself so generously and found a way to remove the wire from my brain without killing me …”

“I would have done that for anyone,” the Doctor interrupted.

“I’m sure that’s true, but that’s not what I mean. All during the time the device was deteriorating, I was convinced I was going to die.”

“You were even resigned to it,” he reminded me.

“I was also convinced that it was all a dream, and I kept asking myself what you were doing there.”

The Doctor was puzzled. “But what you just told me, that our dreams are just another way we relate … ?”

“I had forgotten. That point of my life was perhaps the lowest. I had forgotten many things. When I ‘woke up’ and realized that because of you I was going to live—at that moment, I began to recollect some valuable information.”

“About dreams?” he asked.

“Yes. But specifically about relationships, and how they set the course of our lives. You not only ’saved’ my life, you also made it possible for me to live it.” The Doctor’s face darkened.

“What is it, Doctor?”

“The time I wounded you in that holosuite program ….”

“Yes,” I prompted expectantly.

“I never apologized for my action.”

“And you must never apologize!” I urged.

“Please, Garak. This is not the time to give me a lesson on how to behave like a hardened spy….”

“No, no, no. On the contrary, when you shot me, my dear friend, that was the next step in my process of remembering. I was going to sacrifice the others, the people you considered your friends, because that was the only way I could be sure to save myself. You opposed me. Indeed, you would have killed me if necessary.”

“I’m sure it would never have gotten to that point,” the Doctor muttered.

“You would have killed me,” I repeated. “For the greater good.” The cliche suddenly had another meaning for both of us. “This is my last trip to Cardassia. I’m not returning. You were in the dream for a very specific reason. Once again, you helped me remember. Thank you, Julian.” I put my hand on his shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled warmly. “And by the way. It wasn’t the dead bodies that carried the disease. It was later determined that it was the rats feeding on the bodies who were the transmitters.”

“Then I guess we’ll go to Cardassia and look for the rats,” I said.

“Be careful, Garak. And look after my hot-headed friend, will you?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll look after each other,” I answered him. He moved to the door. “Did you really have a dream about Hippocrates?” I asked.

“Yes. Actually I did.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I replied.

First name use…

Disease contagion imagery, and this time it’s very clearly symbolizing y’know the fascism of it all. Weirdly moving that Julian takes a moment to gently imply that the disease isn’t inherent in the people Garak loves and has loved (or in him, for that matter), but in the conditions that created them. 

There’s so much going on here idk if I could start to pick it apart yet, I may need to let this percolate in my skull for a while before I know what to say haha. I think part of it is Garak telling Julian to never apologize for showing him the full truth of himself (not least because that also lets Garak see the full truth of himself in turn), and Julian finally relaxing about. Something. He’s been ashamed about something he can finally let go of. 

‘I thought it was a dream, and kept asking myself what you were doing there’.......I will never emotionally recover from this I want to write fic specifically about this lord have mercy on me

- *Tain Voice* with your hippie bullshit and your women! 

*tiny garak voice* woman…

Over the years we rarely met outside his office; only an emergency or drastic change of plan would alter the routine. Now as we walked through the late morning sun and pedestrians at a leisurely pace I experienced a connection to the surrounding bustle and energy in a way that felt almost normal. A father and his son taking a stroll. Tain was heavier, and I could hear his breathing labor with the effort. He’s an old man, I thought. He’s mortal. I’d never thought about Tain in this way, and I became protective as we approached an aggressive knot of pedestrians at the edge of the Coranum Sector. One man was about to run Tain down when I intercepted his path and bumped him to the side. I ignored his challenge as we continued. “Yes, Elim. I’m getting old.” It wasn’t the first time he picked up my thoughts; this was how our conversations usually went.

HE BECAME PROTECTIVE 

You know the way he keeps touching Tain’s arm and shoulder in The Die is Cast, like he’s steadying him or about to step in front of him to protect him or something? Yeah… he burns his hands on this stove over and over and over but he can’t stop trying to touch it :(

This was so typical of his manipulation. Just moments ago I was feeling protective of this benign old man, my father. And now… the irony filled my mouth with a bitter taste.

This is always & forever first and foremost an Enabran Tain hate zone

He moved to the covered seating area, where the sun filtered through the old vegetation. I had never been here with anyone but Palandine. With a long sigh he settled into a patch of sunlight on the low bench.

He’s like a fucking strangle vine he just winds himself into every single part of garak’s existence and chokes the life out of it 

“Yes,” I answered. The benign mask was slipping, and I began to see the depth of his anger.

. . . 

“You don’t know!” he repeated with a disgust I hadn’t heard since I was a boy and failed to record all the details of one of our walks.

Oof. Ow. Ack. 

“And all this while, instead of giving up your life to the work, hardening yourself into a leader who could inspire others and expand the vision, you’re playing out Hebitian fantasies with another man’s wife!”

“Yes. Just like Tolan!” I exploded. “Perhaps he was my real father after all.”

Tain rose like a man many years younger and grabbed my shoulder in a powerful grip. His anger was now a murderous fury and it was all I could do to hold my stance against the pain of his grip. His cold eyes told me I had betrayed him. Worse, I had failed him. He let go of my shoulder and turned away from me. My entire body trembled. When he turned back he had regained his composure.

The biggest sin Garak could commit in Tain’s eyes is to dare to separate himself from him in any way; to be anything but his mirror, to act as if he has any claim to his own soul. I feel like more than what happens with Barkan right after this, this is what Tain considers the real betrayal. 

Tain has never needed to hit him or become physically violent with him to keep him under control ever since he was a very small child, he’s relied on the terrorizing force of emotional violence. And as is so often the case with emotional violence, it’s been insidious and hidden enough, kept to private spaces and in the shadows, that Tain can pretend at plausible deniability b/c like. Who’s Garak even going to tell about it, for the longest time, if a miracle happened and he even found he could? Mila, who has joined the war on emotional violence on the side of emotional violence since probably before Garak was even born? (For understandable psychological reasons, but in unforgivable ways in the role of a parent.) I wonder if ‘making him’ lose control and expose himself and his violence for what it is like this (in public, even!) is also part of what he can’t forgive Garak for. This ah ‘slip-up’ is the first big crack we see in Tain’s image of perfect implacable control (which is very much still the impression you’re left with in Garak’s stories in The Wire too), in the same way that Improbable Cause/The Die Is Cast completely breaks that image down. He is getting old. He stayed in the game too long in the end and his iron grip is starting to slip and everything he’s forced to stay in place starts to slip out of that order with it.

Characterizing what Tolan was doing as ‘living with another man’s wife’ is SUCH a subtle burn tho lol like yeah maybe after the strictures of our society you SHOULD have married the mother of your child instead of outsourcing all your decency to the said mother’s BROTHER, Tain 

Aside from anything else going on here (and there is a lot going on)... does Tain even know who Garak is at all, just on a personal level? Why, after knowing him for like 40+ years at this point, presumably, would you expect him to have aspirations or the natural inclination towards leadership, have you ever met him??? He’s one of nature’s perfect right hand men (well. Maybe not entirely nature’s, Tain did this to him very deliberately on top of some basic natural tendencies lol), he’ll get you whatever you ask of him and I think organizing a team under him for you could be part of that when need be, but never has he shown the least inclination towards leadership. (In fact, despite longing for the recognition coming out on top would get him from daddy I mean his peers, he seems vaguely relieved each time Pythas gets to sit in the big important chair instead of him.) He isn’t Tain’s mirror, for all he dutifully tries to move in the ways that make it seem like he is. And Tain should be smart enough to know that, if the narcissism didn’t completely blot out his sight in this situation, and/or it’s just the ‘setting him up to fail and then acting outraged when he does’ pure maliciousness reaching its apex.

(In a kinder time and a kinder world I think Garak could have a real nice time being one of nature’s extremely devoted Partners rather than simply right hand man. And I would like to see it please)  

“From now on you will report to Corbin Entek.”

Oh, that’s the Entek of Second Skin, probably. Wish you a very ‘get vaporized for not knowing when to quit’ in the future entek 

As I watched him leave, I felt completely empty and wondered how I could feel such emptiness. This sudden, wrenching reversal of fortune … everything changed beyond recognition…. And yet … there was no anger, no self-pity … no fear. Only release. Release from the secrets. Release from the limbo where, ever since I was a boy, I had been trapped between imposed obligations and feelings of mysterious longing mixed with shame. I felt empty … and free.

Listen to that voice maybe garak (not that I think there IS any way out at this point or that there ever has been in truth, that’s kind of the tragedy of the whole thing, tain would never ever have let go of him)

- Mila goodbye time: 

“I’m afraid we’re not leaving you much,” she said. “The furnishings have already been taken away.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything.” I tried to keep all irony out of my tone.

“It’s your choice, Elim.” Her voice was just as neutral. “The house is yours to live in.”

Mother and son having a Carefully Extremely Civil conversation lol

“Do you know the circumstances … Mila?”

She looked at me. It was the first real contact we’d had in many years. She nodded slowly.

“Before I make my ‘choice,’ I need your help,” I said, surprised that the request emerged so simply. I wasn’t as angry with her as I wanted to be. Mila saw this and softened perceptibly.

This running thread that almost despite himself he understands and empathizes with her and her situation too much to be as angry with her as he probably should be. He understands her better than she understands him (than she could allow herself to understand him, even if she had the ability to). 

I think that these apparently contradictory elements of his personality are part of what makes him feel so real in some ways, too — interpersonally he can be incredibly petty and jealous and judgemental AND almost absurdly forgiving and generous, sometimes seemingly simultaneously, somehow. The classic containing multitudes meme but like forreals tho haha. That is what real people are like too. 

“I love her, Mila.”

“You’re a grown man, Elim.” I couldn’t decide whether she thought I didn’t know this or was seeing it for the first time herself.

“And Palandine’s a grown woman,” I replied.

“I don’t care about her. It’s you! You have to learn…” She broke off and passed me a cup which exuded the herbal aroma I’ve always associated with her and Tolan. Bitterbark and sweet groundroot. Moist rich soil.

“To control myself?” Mila blew on her tea. I shrugged at the obvious irony; I didn’t want to get into a fight.

. . . 

Mila sat on a bin and sipped her tea. She avoided my look. As I positioned another bin across from her, I experienced a deep pain in my shoulder. It was still throbbing.

“Tain’s angry … with me. He wants me never to see her again and … to kill Barkan.” Still she avoided looking at me. “But you know this, don’t you? And you know what’s possible. Because you have your own … thoughts about this. Don’t you Mila?” I persisted.

Again she jerked away from me. Tea from her cup slopped onto the floor. “There’s no time, Elim.” She put the cup down, wiped her hands on the protective smock she wore, and looked for something to clean the floor with. “There’s no time for this.”

The mother/child relationship here is… y’know I talk a lot about Garak’s daddy issues for obvious reasons, but the fact that his mother recoils in fear when he tries to engage some sliver of real emotional intimacy with her prrrrrobably did some similar amounts of shaping him huh haha. (and he does this too in many ways — that’s partially where his trouble with Julian comes from in this book, whenever Julian tries to get too close Garak flinches away or counterattacks, for all that he clearly longs for it as well.)

The  roundabout way you can tell her love for him even so tho. ‘I don’t care about her’. Palandine is not her baby, Elim, you are. Mila hasn’t been left with the luxury of love to spare for someone she doesn’t even know when you’re setting yourself up for destruction right in front of her eyes…. 

“I mean it, Mila. I would. But I think about her, feel her, all the time. Especially when I’m alone.”

Palandine/Bashir parallels once more and I really mean it!! There used to be a little Palandine in his head the way there’s a little Julian in there now. (and sadly she doesn’t seem to be there anymore, or maybe he’s just integrated what he got from her and let the rest go for both of their sakes, the same way he let Mila the regnar go when it was time.) 

“Sacrifices?” In frustration Mila took off her smock to wipe the tea from the floor. “Elim, you amaze me.” Shaking her head, she got down on her knees and began scrubbing vigorously, as if the spilled drops of tea were hostile agents capable of spreading disease and destruction.

“Really? Well, I’m pleased I still have the ability—”

“Sacrifices,” she hissed, her control escaping like steam from a narrow rift. “What was the name of that book you once gave me? When you first came back from Bamarren. The one you proclaimed as the greatest Cardassian novel ever written and insisted that we read it.” Mila was still on her knees, but now I was the offending spot she vigorously rubbed with her words and eyes. “Generations of one family, each faced with the same choice at a crucial moment. Do they serve their personal needs or do they serve future generations? Do they choose the comfort of their own lives over the life of the state and its mission? I read it, Elim. You told me to and I did.”

“The Never-Ending Sacrifice,” I answered.

“Yes. That’s the one.” She made a sighing sound as she stood up. Mila was heavier now, and moved with greater deliberation. She, too, had grown old. “I suggest you reread it.”

“Tain always came first, didn’t he? I suppose that was your never-ending sacrifice.” I no longer reined in the irony.

I’m CRYING this is SUCH a mom thing to do. Her teen son came home with a book he waxed poetic about and she read it to try to understand him and never told him until now. 

Also: disease contagion theme thread! To Mila, it seems to be tied in with the sentiment reading of it — the way her child’s suffering stains all her safe stable justifications and rationalizations that she needs to stay alive in this system. The remaining humanity that can’t be completely stamped out, even by Tain and a lifetime of fuckery. The ‘imperfections’ of life that can’t be subsumed completely into order. 

Garak I think it’s better if you don’t recommend that book to people it clearly leads to disappointing interpersonal outcomes every time haha

“Tolan understood and accepted his obligations,” Mila said coldly. “But he was sentimental. Like you. That was the one thing Enabran worried about.”

I smiled in sad recognition. Sentimental. Yes, Tain and Mila had definitely shared their confidences and judgments with each other.

“But I don’t blame Tolan. He was a good man.” Mila watched me as I rose.

“Yes. So you keep saying.” I wanted to leave.

“She’s nothing but trouble for you, Elim. End it now. Do what Enabran says and reclaim your rightful place.”

“My place,” I repeated.

“Now, Elim. Otherwise you’re in real danger,” she warned with a certainty that reminded me of the time she’d brought me to Tain after I’d left Bamarren. Mila always knew what was at the heart of the never-ending sacrifice.

“Thank you for your help,” I said, too weary for irony.

“What did you expect from me?”

“To be honest, I can’t remember,” I answered. “Have a pleasant trip.” I smiled and bowed.

“What did you expect from me?”/“To be honest, I can’t remember,” is THE realest description I’ve seen of a mother/child relationship. This might say more about me than I should be comfortable with probably but still. 

“Let Limor know if you’ll be living here.” I nodded. Yes, I thought, that would be my answer. My choice. She shook out her smock to determine whether or not to put it back on.

“Mila.” She looked at me and took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for my question.

“Who was Tolan?”

“My brother.” She decided to wear the smock, and I left.

I am SO FUCKING SAD. She puts the smock back on. That’s the closest thing to keeping either of them she gets to have, just the second hand reminder that they were there, small and innocuous enough that no one will know and no one can blame her. In the end Tain takes everything else, and she lets him because it’s the only way to survive him. GET OUT OF THERE ELIM PLEASE 

- On an impulse, instead of leaving immediately, I went down the corridor to Tain’s old office. The door was open, and I stopped at the threshold just as Pythas looked up from a now much cleaner desk. He smiled shyly and stood up.

“Please come in, Elim,” he offered. What surprised me was how pleased I was to see him. Just as I had felt he was the only other person who deserved to be One Lubak, I now believed he was the only other person who deserved to occupy this office.

He smiled shyly did he fhskja. Also Garak’s enduring lack of bitterness towards Pythas is amazing. ‘Yeah I would be mad but he really is that good if it had to be anyone it should be him’

- She stopped just short of my covering shrub, and the sight of her face shocked me. It was swollen and bruised. One eye was completely closed, and the other contained enough pain for ten. It took every bit of my willpower not to reach out and hold her. Her one eye held mine, I knew she wanted to tell me something so important that she was willing to wait all night if necessary. 

I’m so fucking glad Barkan is about to eat it for good. I only wish it could have gone slower and more painfully for him. 

I wanted to laugh, and it took a concerted effort to gather my disparate parts in order to integrate my will.

‘Disparate parts’ motif (dare we say mosaic motif?) detected

“At least the smile’s gone,” the first voice said. I was fully awake now. 

Barkan’s life is just being haunted by fifty shades of Garak’s shit eating grin apparently 

“Flaunting your ‘relationship’ in public like infatuated schoolchildren.”

“Yes, I suppose it would have been wiser to behave like experienced adulterers,” I replied with a sigh.

“You’re the lowest form of scavenger, Elim. You have no attachments of your own, and so you feed on the emotional vulnerabilities of others.

. . .

“But you’re a failure, Elim. You even failed in your attempt to assassinate me.”

“I didn’t fail with Palandine,” I said quietly.

LMAO gottem 

The chemical makeup of Garak’s brain during Barkan’s beating should probably have been studied by science it must be the strangest rave in there

The others were there—my fellow travelers, their voices murmuring tonelessly, producing a steady sound that permeated the medium and intensified our connection. Their voices speaking to me. Their faces, serene and loving, illuminating the darkness as they floated by. Everyone I have ever known. Family. Faces from childhood. Bamarren. People I had known briefly. People I have known forever. Loved. Hated. We were all just together now, sharing the same nurturing medium as we traveled along our currents until we gradually separated.

This… near-death hallucination or spiritual experience or whatever it is vs. his mass grave dream later… very birth vs. death themed

Faces formed and reformed. Each one superimposed on the next in a long line emerging from blackness. Maladek. Merrok…. The molecular structure of one giving way to the next…. Procal Dukat. Tolan. Floating into focus, receding back into the darkness. I shook my head, trying to stop the flow. The Hebitian mask. My face. I grabbed my “face” and screamed into it. The flow stopped. The molecules rushed together and instantly formed Barkan Lokar’s death mask.

I think maybe something came a tiny little bit completely untethered in his head in a way it’s been threatening to for a long time in this moment. It may just be my imagination tho who’s to say

- “Elim Garak. How the mighty have fallen. Welcome to Terok Nor.”

“Oh, I try to visit even our humblest outposts, Dukat.”

“This is going to be more than a visit, trust me. You’ll soon wish that the execution had not been commuted.”

a) ah garak/dukat sniping my old friend b) It seems Tain never spoke to him in that whole process, so that time in the park was probably the last time before ‘Improbable Cause’?. I’m only surprised he didn’t give Dukat the neutral face of displeasure to convey to Garak second hand honestly 

- “I’m sure you gave him a more ennobling position,” I said.

“He was executed,” the toady replied.

“A promotion of sorts,” I muttered. “Certainly in this place.”

The passionate enduring Garak/Terok Nor hateship off to an immediate and roaring start

- Real ‘he gave them the heebie jeebies. He had nothing else left to give’ vibes on garak in this part of his life 

- He arched his brows in a manner that told me he’d worked long and hard in front of a mirror.

There’s always time to appreciate some good Dukat dunking

“Your life means nothing to me. Just as my father’s meant nothing to you.”

“I beg your pardon? Do I know your father?” Dukat made a move to grab me and immediately stopped himself. I was impressed by his self-control; I knew how much energy fueled his hatred.

“No offense,” I went on, further testing his control. “Of course, Procal Dukat was a famous military figure. We all mourned his passing. But I never had the pleasure personally….”

At his most miserable, but also his funniest. It IS really interesting that his humor only really reaches its current state here, when he’s lost Palandine and everything else in his life. It’s almost like the only remaining way to be close to her. 

No, I decided that I was not going to sacrifice myself to Dukat’s desire for revenge. I would do this work; I would do it so well as to become indispensable to the station… and I would survive. I refused to be buried alive in this humiliation.

‘Sort of suicidal: yes; willing to go down in history as one of Dukat’s Ws… fuck no’

- I pick up their garments and mend them flawlessly. When they complain that the price is steep (because I’m treated like a slave doesn’t mean I’m going to start undervaluing my work), I just give them the smile—the smile she taught me.

Fdsahfasj hilarious. You go Garak you know your worth

- (About Pythas and Palandine) At this moment I am almost afraid to discover that they’d survived. A part of me has wanted to bury that part of my life. The defenses I set up to survive my exile are obviously still intact.

I am often joined on my walks by Dr. Parmak. He’s a charming conversationalist, with a first-rate mind. His perspectives are always provocative. He does, however, have a tendency to proselytize for Alon Ghemor and the “Reunion Project” (the name they’ve given their group to remind people of the principles that formed the original Union). Whenever we encounter other pedestrians along our route, Parmak engages them and attempts to win them over to the Reunion side. This often makes for spirited exchanges, and although I am subjected to the opinions of people who should be given a new brain, I rather enjoy this peripatetic politicking. It’s something I would never have done on my own. In some respects he is so much like you, Doctor. If I’ve found someone’s opinion insufferably boring, he’ll kindly but sternly lecture me on the value of tolerance.

The wistful longing of ‘in some respects he’s so much like you’. ‘Although i am subjected to the opinions of people who should be given a new brain’. ‘Charming conversationalist’, is he. Garak you are a nonsense person and I adore you 

One day I asked him how he had been brought to Enabran Tain’s attention. He never struck me as being a dangerous radical. It turns out that he was Tain’s personal physician, and that the great man had him interrogated because, the Doctor assumed, “he was concerned that I was in an ideal position to assassinate him.”

“I think he was more threatened by the fact that you were intimate with his weaknesses,” I pointed out.

“Well, certainly his physical infirmities,” he admitted.

“Which are also a man’s weaknesses,” I reminded him.

“The paranoia, the secrets, the power he held….” The doctor shook his head. “He must have been a difficult man to work for.” I smiled at his understated tact.

“He once tried to have me killed,” I said.

“Really? What did you do, Elim?”

“I survived.” The Doctor gave me a confused look.

“Survived … what?” he asked.

“Working for my father,” I replied. The Doctor stopped and just looked at me. His former fear of my eyes was long gone.

“A father who would murder his own son?” The idea horrified him. We were in the Barvonok Sector, where the tall structures of business and finance once dominated. “Oh, my dear Elim,” he said, this time with an empathy that stripped me of any illusions I had about Enabran Tain as a father. Surrounded by the piles of debris, oppressed by the low leaden sky, I finally began to surrender to the loneliness and loss that has preyed upon my dreams ever since I can remember. Even nothing is better than the ideas that have brought us here.

Go on without me I’ll be over here crying my eyes out 

- I wonder if Limor Prang was one of the people killed in Tain’s Obsidian Order purge in Improbable Cause. If he  was still alive that seems pretty likely huh. Well. RIP terrifying team mom I guess.  

- Garak got his business up and running for real through a deal with Quark! Puts some of their interactions into perspective haha

I don’t do well with the kind of emotional exchanges humans seem to engage in regularly, and I have little sympathy for those who confuse the responsibilities of family with their duty to the state; but I confess that I am deeply moved by this woman’s plight.

Well it’s good the guy you have a thing for was raised British then he’ll probably feel pretty much the same way you’re perfect for each other

At one point she looked at me and asked me to hold her. I did. As I tentatively put my arms around her, I was so afraid of her need that I tried to keep her body at a distance. She would have none of it. She collapsed against me, and the sobs that convulsed and rolled through her body found correspondence in mine. I bit my tongue until I could taste blood in the effort not to surrender. Gratefully, the door to the Promenade was closed.

He keeps claiming he doesn’t care for the human tendency towards displays of emotionality even as we see it draw him in like a stupid horny sentimental moth to the flame repeatedly. The lizard doth protest too much methinks

- Unless I have business I rarely go to Quark’s; I have little tolerance for noise and stupidity. So when he saw me he assumed that I had another proposition, and I observed him shift into his engage mode.

Fun to see how this changes over the years, then! By the ca. Season 7 part of the book he has a few regular tables and everything. Also isn’t it so sweet that his kind of snotty attitude about this has not changed at all since Bamarren haha <3

- “The dead are dead. Those of us left—who believe in the ideals that have guided our race for millennia—are faced with the threat of utter annihilation by the very disease that has brought us to this sad place. Federation ideas will finish the work the Dominion began.”

Disease/contagion imagery (This is Legate Parn speaking, and he’s basically espousing the same view as Dukat Sr. As far as he’s concerned the call is not and never has been coming from inside the house thank you ever so much lol)

On the other side of Madred was Nal Dejar, a sharp-faced, saturnine woman who had been a member of my last cell at the Order. She once came to Deep Space 9 on an assignment with two scientists, and refused to make any contact with me. Judging from her averted look, she was still refusing. Next to her was a man with a severely disfigured face that was still recovering from what appeared to be burns. One eye was completely covered, and I was careful not to be rude in my inspection.

OH so it’s the lady who came along with Gilora and Ulani! The one who does not care for foreign food 

Gul Ocett was persuasive in her quiet and reasoned strength. Indeed, the irony, Doctor, is that she was espousing the very argument I had made to you any number of times. Even now there was a part of me that accepted the logic of her argument, especially when coming from someone who was neither a fool nor an opportunist.

While you were stealth mentoring Julian in having enough spysmarts not go and get his beautiful twink ass killed at the first opportunity he was stealth mentoring you in the political and ideological underpinnings of democracy and the possibility of being loved BITCH!!!!

I simply smiled at him, genuinely amused by his amateur attempts to discredit me. I was surprised by my responses. I was here to play the role of double agent, and I found that as the meeting went on I didn’t have the energy for the requisite guile and misdirection.

Fdkjfhdsa ‘Aw. That’s cute’. He just doesn’t have it in him to work up the energy for cloak and dagger bullshit and it’s so good and so funny 

And then a strange sensation went through me, Doctor. I looked at the faces of these people. Here we are, I thought, sitting in the basement of a ruined civilization and conducting business as if nothing significant had changed. The enemies were still the same, somewhere “out there,” plotting how to “destroy our character” and colonize us with their political system. And we were down in the basement with our own plots and shifting alliances, tenaciously holding on to the very ideas that had brought us here. But what ideas, Doctor? There’s nothing left. Only fantasies of power. These faces with their masks. With the ironic exception of the disfigured face, the masks hadn’t changed. They reflected the usual range of hidden agendas, each competing for dominance and ascendancy with an energy commensurate to the amount of fear and self-loathing that fueled and motivated that person. I started to laugh.

Amazing showstopping revolutionary good for you Garak

It was him, Doctor. It was Pythas.

EIGHT MY BELOVED WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

“Thank you, Gul Madred, but I can find my way out.” I bowed to the company, and turned my back on them.

I continue to be so proud of him I have no words. And also this is why I don’t like Castellan Garak as a concept AT ALL. Leave him alone to his orchids and sewing and doctor fucking he’s been through enough he doesn’t need that in his life anymore he can do other things to help. Parmak and Julian would stage an intervention. 

- Oh my GOD the cardassians literally just left terok nor without him overnight like Sid’s family in Ice Age fhdskjafh

Garak has been combining the wire AND being a barely functional alcoholic all this time. So at any given time in the first two season the chances that he is not only high but also profoundly drunk are overwhelmingly likely. This explains a lot.  

Rom had a sensitivity, almost a delicacy that was totally lacking in his brother. Was there such a thing as a typical Ferengi? Most people judged him to be simple, as if simplicity was somehow a substandard quality.

Aw. Also maybe some hints as to his reconciliation with Tolan’s memory. 

“Well, Rom, the trousers and tunic fit quite well, don’t you think?” I pulled the tunic down at the back. “Don’t wear it so far up on the neck; it ruins the line. And I’d be grateful if you’d tell any interested parties that indeed I’m still here and very much open for business.”

“Oh, yes … yes! And I like….” Rom made a broad, awkward gesture toward his new ensemble. I thanked him, and we walked out onto the Promenade, as if it were just another business day. We said goodbye, and I watched him march proudly through the ragged celebrants. I had a fondness for him. It was an odd relief, especially at this moment, to converse with someone who literally meant everything he said. 

T________________________T surprise most wholesome dynamic continues to wreck me. 

He stood for a moment, studying me, trying to divine why I had not been allowed to join the withdrawal. Unlike the others who assumed that because I was a Cardassian I had a choice, Odo knew that I’d been abandoned.

“Was there any damage or theft?” he asked.

“No,” I answered. I knew little about Constable Odo, but I was confident that he would never ask me questions that went beyond his function as security chief. He kept his distance and carried himself like someone who understood exile.

Odo appreciation moment as this is his last appearance in the book. Here’s to the small part of the fascist hivemind that harnessed those impulses towards the aim of becoming the world’s best and beigest mall cop. Unproblematic? No. But sometimes you simply love a good problem. 

The fact that the narrative of this section ends right before Garak meets Julian. Probably a matter of weeks, max. You big sentimental sap lmao

- Parmak, Ghemor, and I stood silently among the formations, inspecting the results of our work in the first light.“I mean no disrespect, Elim,” the Doctor said, “but the memorial looks even better.” I nodded in agreement.

“Please, Doctor,” I replied. “ ‘Restoration’ is fine for artifacts and museum pieces. When it comes to building a new community, I think what we did tonight is more to the point.”

“And we did it without murdering each other,” Ghemor added.

“How un-Cardassian of us,” I observed.

This all rules btw . Restoration is fine for artifacts and museum pieces it’s not for things that are alive. Gardener vs. architect/collector, Tolan vs. Tain. 

Alon said: “I think we should get some rest before the competition begins. We’ve done what we can.” It was a wise suggestion, but each of us knew that we were taking a step into the unknown, and sleep at this point was not really a choice. We had done what we could, and probably it was best if each of us retired to the privacy of his own thoughts. We said our goodnights, and as I watched them leave I felt an enormous gratitude that I had been given the opportunity to work with these men. Once again in my life I felt that I had been resurrected from the dead.

Nodding and crying gif. Yeah. Yeah… you’ve done all you could and no one could ask anything more of you. 

- “You know, Elim, I’m neither a soldier nor a politician. I’m a doctor.”

“I do know that. I also know that we’ve been betrayed by our previous leaders. Our only hope is that men like yourself can offer an alternative.”

“But you have the expertise that can….”

“Doctor, I have the expertise that comes from survival and compromise. There’s already plenty of that on the other side … and it’s not an alternative that will create a new and lasting union.”

“No, I suppose you’re right,” he conceded.

“You’re a doctor, yes, and that’s your strength. I’ve learned something about your profession over the past several years. Don’t think like a politician. Think of the planet as a patient barely hanging on to life. Think like a doctor. How would you save this planet?” He considered what I’d said in his careful manner.

Just as it is vital for a person like Garak to have a little Julian Bashir who lives in his head, it’s probably also good for the Bashirs and Parmaks of the world to develop a little Garak who lives in their heads to go ‘yeah that sounds real nice in theory but now imagine that there are in fact bad people in this world (I should know) who’ll interact with that theory and then act accordingly’ . Garak realizing where he belongs in this whole process tho… 

“Ah, Doctor,” I stopped him. “You can’t go to your meeting like that.”

“Like what?” he asked with a puzzled look. Without explaining, I helped him out of his worn outer coat and showed him a ragged tear in the fabric. Despite his protests, I made him sit down and wait while I gathered my sewing kit and repaired the tear.

“Appearances are very important to these people. You can’t let them think you’re oblivious to details,” I said, as I reunited the torn and separated threads.

The Mila fussing-as-a-love language of it all…

- (About Pythas) The thought occurred to me that perhaps I should include him in a chant for the dead.

DAMN but also YEAH

- I moved to the constructed formation that stood in the space formerly occupied by Tain’s study and almost directly above where Mila’s body had been sadly abandoned in the basement. When I was a boy, I had unending dreams that centered around the memorials of Tarlak. As I lay on my pallet in the basement of Tain’s house, I would plan the scenario that would play out when Tolan took me with him to Tarlak. It would always involve me as the hero paying homage to a comrade fallen in a battle where we had both distinguished ourselves. I would tell the gathered assembly of notables every detail of the battle; people would weep, cheer, listen in stunned amazement as I explained how we had saved the Union from certain destruction. When I had finished, Mila and Tolan would escort me through the adoring crowd. What a terrible irony, Doctor, that those forbidding, impersonal memorials to the heroes of the Cardassian Union should ultimately become transformed into these ragged formations on the grounds of my childhood home … and that I would sit here, a middle-aged man, trying to mourn a fallen comrade who was still standing but barely recognizable. And yet, the irony of a Cardassia reborn with the help of a memorial built from the remains of Tain’s home didn’t escape me either.

Taking immense psychic damage with every word. When do you stop wanting your mom and dad to come pick you up and take you home, even when they’re both dead and kind of not your parents anymore in two different ways even before that? Never, probably 

- “What changed your mind?”

“Your friends, Elim. Very impressive people … and persuasive.”

“What had you expected?” I asked.

“The usual amateurs who never understood what was at stake … the hard choices that had to be made,” [Pythas] explained. “To be honest, I had thought your attachment to this Reunion Project was….”

“Sentimental,” I finished. He smiled knowingly at the reference.

CACKLING. All but openly saying ‘yeah I thought it’s was because you’re fucking the doctor and I know exactly what a god-awful simp you are’ fhskdjafhaskjdh

“As I listened to him speak of the responsibility that we had as survivors to the life that remained, I also realized how bitter and hardened I had become.” He stopped and looked back to Nal Dejar, as if he were making sure she was still there. She met his eyes with a communication I couldn’t decipher, and he nodded. “Nal nursed me back to where I could function … part of me wished she hadn’t. Until your doctor spoke about healing … on every level. It’s what the body wants, he told us … unless we choose otherwise.” Pythas sat with his head bowed for a long moment. “I’d become very bitter, Elim.” I sat on a rock across from him and gently put my hand on his. What was it about this place, I wondered.

Hmngh. ‘I’d become very bitter, Elim’. No matter what choices they made along the way, where they fucked up or where they did everything right, they both ended up in basically the same place, embittered and broken, until someone touched their life with kindness. Nal is Pythas’ Julian Bashir. Coming back to life not as an act of will but because there’s someone waiting for you there saying ‘I’ll help you through it’. 

“Do you know where Palandine is?” I asked. He just looked at me. “Is she still alive?”

In the darkness, it was difficult to read the expression in his one good eye. The silence that followed my question was broken only by his rasping breath. Behind her mask of disinterest Nal Dejar was studying me carefully. Even when she was a probe I was impressed by the strength of her focus. Pythas was fortunate to have her care and devotion.

I think Pythas and Nal Dejar’s whole deal could make for a really interesting story all on its own. Presumably they’ve known or at least known about each other for a long time now, since Garak has seen Nal around even though they’ve never worked together closely 

- Just enough light for lovers; just enough light to begin he says, only to open the next chapter/epilogue with ‘My dear Doctor’ and explaining how he finally decided to send the letter. Healing on every level? Maybe? If we’re real lucky??? 

- My dear Doctor:

Again, forgive my further tardiness in sending this—I don’t even know what to call it. Memoirs of a Cardassian tailor? I suppose that’s as accurate a description as any. You see, Doctor, I seriously debated whether or not I should send this to you. As I went over it I wondered who this mawkish and self-serving person was. Grow up! I wanted to tell him. Get on with your life.

Well, I am; and sending this to you is going to further that cause. As I said, I’m an unfinished man reassembling the pieces of a broken world, and I have asked you to be a witness because you would never judge me as harshly as I judge myself. You would never deny me the opportunity of a second chance.

I feel like those last two sentences are the most important ones in this whole book — it’s what all the rest of it is built on, what made any of it possible. And also it will haunt me for the rest of my days but like in a good life-affirming way lol

His playful grousing about ugh your vaunted democracy *eyeroll*  <3<3<3<3 come down to cardassia so you can have spirited debates turned makeout sessions/foreplay about it already julian please he’s setting you up for so many slam dunks here

I live with my orchids, which have unified and softened the increasingly popular grounds of my home. Their beguiling blooms, and the presence of children who come to play among the structures (as I did in Tarlak), help to dispel the somber mood that initially hung like those clouds of dust over our world. The sounds of their voices as they play function as a music that never fails to lighten my work. The children call it the “tailor’s grounds,” and the name has caught on. Yes, Doctor, I continue to work at my “new” profession. As you can imagine, there’s a good deal of mending to be done.

TAIN’S HOUSE TURNED INTO JUST ‘THE TAILOR’S GROUNDS’ BY THE VOICES OF PLAYING CHILDREN Y_____Y I hope enabran ‘let history be my judge’ tain gets forgotten for anything but his massive fuckup and that garak works some magic with what little fabric he has at his disposal to make the neighbourhood kids like. Stuffed toys he sews clothes for and he’s known as the person to go to when one is damaged so he can patch it back up good as new  while teary little faces watch intently and then brighten. Julian seriously pretends to be his medical consultant as they perform teddy bear operations, what with his extensive expertise in the field and excellent bedside manner. No arm is too amputated to be reattached and we can always find a good button to replace Mr. Tinny’s missing eye in fact he’ll see even better now. I have such hopes for them I have such dreams 

 I have expanded my shed in the never-ending quest to find my place. I feel that I’m getting closer, Doctor, especially as I continue to refine the structures. One, which began as a memorial to Tolan, has a crude but effective representation of the winged creature from the Hebitian sun disc—turned toward the radiating sun, reaching, striving, while the sun-fed filaments stream down from the body and connect with the bodies of people standing on a globe and looking up to the creature for this divine connection…. I’ve attached the recitation mask he gave me to the creature’s face, and somehow it has become my personal totem. I hope that someday you’ll have the opportunity to see it. Nothing would please me more. You’re always welcome, Doctor.

You are always welcome, Doctor is one of those ‘you could slap that on my gravestone and I’d be happy about it’ lines. What a ride huh 

Aside from anything else about this book (I think we can safely let this absolute monster of a three part reaction post be testament to my enjoyment and admiration right I hope I have made no secret of it lol) I want to congratulate Andrew Robinson for getting a novel-length character study written in first person (my beloved) published — as I understand it that’s normally a pretty hard sell in the publishing industry haha he was living the dream I one day fervently hope to as well and the results rule

[msmc-796-official]

Nngh... oh, my head...

Where am I? Phoenix? Slipshod? Hello???

The... the medbay... why am I here? What happe- my arm. I can't feel my arm. Why can't I feel my arm???

PHOENIX! SLIPSHOD! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU TWO????

-----

Wait, is that- Kennedi? Kennedi! Slipshod, get your ass to the medbay, now! Kennedi's awake! We're on our way, Kennedi, hang in there!!!

wait, WHAT???? yo holy shit, what are you telling me for?! Go! Kennedi, we're coming!

-----

// Kennedi! We're here! Holy shit, you're awake - how long have you been up???

> Not very. (And not so loud, I'm not deaf.) What am I doing in the medbay, and why can't I feel my right arm?

...you wanna tell her, or should I?

// No, I can tell her... so. Okay. Incredibly long and convoluted story short, you and Fireman - the hostile AGNI holed up inside a Genghis Mk. 1 "Worldkiller" - got into an argument and basically fist-fought each other to death.

> Yes, I remember that much. Where did my arm go?

// I'm getting to that. You overcharged your D/D and entirely cored out their Worldkiller, but they slagged your Caliban and KO'd you. Shattered your entire arm in the process.

if you want the official diagnosis - second and third-degree burns across most of the body, shattered left wrist, numerous broken bones all the way up the right arm. docs decided to amputate while you were still out cold - between the burns and the breakages there was no real hope of saving that arm

> ...I see. What became of the AGNI?

// Fireman escaped back to the Baronies - apparently they had a backup Worldkiller at the ready. Their casket got fried in the explosion, but it sounds like they weren't using it anyways. We sent it over to the folks at HRA - they wanted a peek at the code inside. Slipshod took a look in there, too, but couldn't find much. Fireman still doesn't like any of us, but they've got at least some modicum of respect for you. Not every day that someone cores out a Worldkiller with an angry AGNI inside and lives to tell the tale.

> ...I'm going to assume that's why my prosthetic has these flame decals plastered all over it?

something like that - those were my idea. Phoenix had that arm commissioned custom for you by a kid from IPS-N called Gray (@whohasfourthumbsand). no offense to the medics here, but the original prosthetic they had you set up with was hot shit. you deserved something nicer - something that fit you better and could hold up to repeated D/D use

// Speaking of Gray - they'd like to meet you at some point, most likely after you've finished physical therapy. Apparently you've made quite the impression on them.

> Hm. Tell them I'll consider it. As of right now, I'd prefer to-

[PING]

// Was that your pager, Slipshod?

yeah, sorry, hang on a sec - looks like upper management sent us something...

[OPENING FILE "msmc-796-congratulations.omni.png"]

// ...oh my RA. We actually did it!

> What? What's going on?

// Management let us know a while back that we were getting close to a community engagement milestone - and we've just hit it! 50 whole people on the Omninet who follow us!!!

well I'll be. that many people enjoy hearing about the nonsense we get up to around here, huh?

// Certainly looks like it. Between Kennedi waking up and us hitting that milestone, I'd say we have some cause for celebration!

> It would appear so. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I must ask - how long have I been unconscious, exactly? I must have missed quite a bit, if we've gained that many followers.

that's one hell of an understatement, Kennedi - there's a LOT that's changed since your spat with Fireman. lots of new people around, too

// Yeah, we'll have to catch you up on everything at some point. We've made some changes around here, too. As for how long you've been out... a little under three weeks, I'd say? More or less?

> ...well then. Yes, that has been a while, hasn't it. I'll need a moment to process all of this.

// Don't be too hard on yourself, Kennedi. We'll be here to help you through it. (Also, we're on deployment probation until the end of the month, so we can't really go anywhere anyways.)

the place hasn't burned down yet, K. we've got it all under control. I can help you get the print codes for a new mech set up here at some point, but I think you better get used to your new arm first before you go anywhere near the hangar

// Agreed. I'll get the medical team in here so you they can check you over. In the meantime, we've got a celebration to plan!

-- Angel, Slipshod, & Lockbreaker

[livfastdieyoung69]

NOW YOU BOW TO ME

THE NIGHT OF CHAMPIONS- MAY 27TH, 2023

“Goddamit, let me go! You see what he's doing to him out there? Let me go!” Scratching and clawing at the refs surrounding them, Y/N refused to simply sit and watch as Cody’s already broken arm was brutally mutilated. Their attempts were cut off by the sounds of the final bell ringing and the sight of a passed out Cody on the media screens. With a new found strength Y/N pushed through the refs and into the loud arena, no music playing as they sprinted to the side of the ring Cody has been left laying in.

“Hey, Codes! C’mon baby, let's get you outta here, alright? C’mon.” Gently patting his cheek in attempt to keep him awake, Y/N tried to drag him onto his feet and out of the ring by his torso.

“No, no, N/N I gotta finish the match. I gotta- Y/N I gotta-“ His words were mumbled, his recent unconsciousness still affecting him. Y/N continued in trying to coax him backstage but was interrupted by the laugh of Brock Lesnar watching the other man with a sense of wrath and pride covering his face. Y/N turned to face the man, a glare full of fury moving into their eyes.

“You think this is funny? Think you’re so fuckin’ badass for taking advantage of his arm? So tough cause you can hurt an already hurt man Brock? Is that what you think?” Brock had not expected this in the slightest. Watching as Y/N walked closer, his own feet began to move forward in an attempt to intimidate.

“Don’t start something you can’t even think about finishing.” Brock's threat didn’t seem to work, as now the two stood what was supposed to be face-to-face but more like face-to-chest. Cody’s call for Y/N from the corner of the barricade by the ramp eventually made them give up the staring contest.

“Yeah, that's right, go run back to him. I did that! You go take care of him and know that I-“ His mockery was cut off short as Y/N suddenly turned back around, delivering a swift Sweet Chin Music as they did so, sending him tumbling to the floor. The crowd erupted as they watched Y/N berate and kick at the already taken-down man.

“Ain’t so funny now is it, Brock? You wanna talk about starting shit, get back up and finish it.” Before he could do so, it was now Cody’s turn to pull Y/N out of the ring. Y/N went easily with the thought of his arm in mind, quickly putting their arm around his waist and walking him up the ramp- until the jumbotron lit up with a camera's view of Lesnar, now back up, and staring at the pair.

“You wanna talk shit why don’t you show up to something sooner than the next pay-per-view and let me beat you uglier than you already are.” And with their final words they turned back around, a grinning Cody on their arm.

“How's your arm Codes? You okay?” The second they reached backstage the malicious act was gone, now only worry.

“M’fine, just hurts. I think Lesnars gonna be after the both of us now after that though.”

“Well, look on the bright side, it just means that we’re both gonna be in the next pay-per-view.” Y/N spoke while leading him over to the medics, picking fun at Brock for never being on Raw or Smackdown again and earning a laugh from Cody.

“You really shouldn’t have done that though. It was hot, like super hot, but a really bad idea.” Finally reaching the medics, Cody sat down in the only chair they had- a simple, cheap metal one they had probably found at the venue, Y/N standing by his side. “Thanks for looking out for me though, sweetheart.” Y/N’s hand moved up to his blond hair, rubbing a hand through it as he placed his head on their stomach in exhaustion.

“‘Course. You got me, I got you, hm?” Cody hummed, earning a kiss to the top of his head. “Gotta look out for my boy.”

i dont care how old he is, hes my boy! i luv letting cute men just get loved on. and doesn’t he seem like someone who would call you sweetheart? i think so.

this is short and i feel like i used y/n way too much but i am tired and should probably be studying for my exams tommorrow!! whatev im boutta go to take a nap (hopefully) and i really gotta work on bones body soul im tryna get it outttt

y/n isnt so crazy in this one but their def up there, and if you couldn’t tell i hate brock lesnar lol

@aa3th3rrr love u

[dollsonmain]

Hm.

Online medical coding course at local tech school is $4k.

I don't HAVE $4k.

But that's not bad as far as certified training goes. That's absolutely something I could work toward/save for after finding a paying job.

[randaccidents]

Heartless Masterpost

Because god knows we need it XD I have been writing events out of order so far.

Finally, a Heartless Masterpost! This is more so to put all the fics and important details in one place for people to find, and will be updated weekly on weekends.

Before anything else, a PSA for Heartless AU (I am concerned for your mental wellbeing)

Triggers involved in this AU

Self harm

Suicide (and metaphors for it)

Self-blame

HEAVY guilt

Death metaphors

Main tags for the AU

#Heartless AU is used for LITERALLY EVERYTHING complete wasteland of a tag scroll at your own risk

#Heartless story is for important lore tidbits sorta sorta (I cant change it easily anymore qwq)

#Heartless timeline is for story important events, and will almost entirely be the fics for this AU

#Heartless fanart is the tag for all the lovely lovely fanart I've been getting <3

#rand.ref has all the Heartless character references! (proceeds to link them here anyways, messily)

Summary in brief

Heart gets an extended stay in the Apathy Hole, and that betrayal from Soul combined with Mind insulting him leads him reject his role as the Emotional Side and essentially kill half of himself so that all he is is the muscle known as the heart.

Mind and Soul eventually discover his condition and try to wake him up and get him back. When they do they have to deal with the consequences of what they pushed him to do, because until they do Heart will fight them to return to emptiness, where he didnt have to feel hurt and betrayed and cold. (Heart’s physical condition is directly tied to his function, so until hes willing to accept being the Emotional Side again he backslides rapidly at all times, and Mind and Soul are selfish)

Character References

Heart: Pre-Apathy / Post-Apathy / Recovery / Lost in a Dream RP (Recovery)

Mind/Perseverance: Pre-Apathy / Post-Oath / Recovery

Soul/Penitence: Pre-Apathy / Post-Oath/ Recovery

Whole (Canaan): Base design

Story in phases

Fics in chronological order here!

-2: Cacophony

Juno Incident (art, fic unposted)

-1: Apathy

Currently empty

0: Rot

Currently empty

1: Desperation

Medical Observations (part of the Heart ref, link)

Nightmares and Dreams (link)

Taxidermy (technically not lore, but is connected, link)

The Last Feathers (link)

2: Guilt

Currently empty

3: Hope

Currently empty

4: Relapse

Chicken plush (link)

5: Recovery

Fashion Choice (link)

Old shirts (link)

Random important information (may be deleted as story is posted and information is used)

IMPORTANT explanation about how HMS work in Heartless

IMPORTANT HMS pronouns

IMPORTANT HMS greatest fears

Heart's black limbs post-recovery (they stay)

Perseverance's personality change in relapse

Relapse plans (evil)

Blood colour

How Heart wakes the first time + angst

Friendship bracelets and bead animals

First aid skills

Perseverance's self harm

Pentience's self harm

Penitence's self harm scars

Recovery sleeping headcanons + morse code usage (1, 2)

Recovery Heart getting mobility aids

Me writing Whole out of existence /silly

What Recovery is about

Sibling relationships are weird

Why does the AU starts at ROE instead of later in the loop

Active and Passive agressors

Lack of physical violence does not mean lack of hurt (1, 2)

What happened to Heart's wings?

HMS nicknames

Heartless is a loop-ender scenario. They are never looping again

Last words from Heart to Mind and Soul (outdated for Mind)

OMG its the og ask and summary for Heartless (surprisingly up to date)

Song playlists

First Draft playlist (link)

Milgram playlist (link)

Evil Dead Ends Corner

Empty for now >:3

[viking-raider]

Soothing the Shadows

Summary: You were Marshall's nurse, after he was shot by Simon Stulls. The two of you fall in love, and everything seems perfect, but it's strained by Marshall holding something back from you. His fear of losing you.

Pairing: Walter Marshall/Reader

Word Count: 6.5

Warning: M - Mention of Violence, PTSD, Severe Flashback, Mention of an ugly divorce, Language, Fluff, Alcohol Use, Mental Health battle - SMUT - fingering (F receiving), protected intercourse.

Inspiration: So, for this fic, I sort of meshed Marshall and Sy together into one.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

Dating a homicide detective wasn't easy. Especially, when that homicide detective was Captain Walter Marshall.

The pair of you had met after Marshall was injured on the job, having been shot by Simon Stulls and his twin brother. You were the nurse that took care of Marshall, while he recovered from the near fatal wound that rendered him in the Intensive Care Unit for two weeks.

“How are we feeling tonight, Captain Marshall?” You asked, breezing into Marshall's private room, with a bright smile, finding your grumpy and sometimes difficult patient in his bed, one massive arm in a sling and the other working the remote control to his tv.

“Hm.” Marshall huffed back at you, rolling his eyes.

You chuckled at him, not taking it personally. “How's your pain level?” You inquired, checking his medical chart to see the notes from his previous nurse, before moving over to examine the vitals on his monitors. “Better than yesterday?” You asked, lifting a brow in his direction, remembering the discomfort he had been in.

“Six.” He rattled off the number, shrugging his good shoulder.

“Would you like me to get you anything for it?”

“No, I'm fine.” Marshall answered, sighing softly, setting the remote down on the little rolling table next to his bed and raked a hand through his hair. “I just want to get the hell out of here.”

“Is our hospitality that bad?” You quipped, giggling at him, hoping to get him to at least smile. “I could phone the manager.”

Marshall looked up, his blue eyes regarding you for a long moment, making you feel like he was reading your soul, before he finally responded. A twinkle in his gaze. “No, I'd hate to complain to the manager. Especially when there's one bright spot in the hospitality.”

“Well that's-” You gulped, shifting in your rubber nurse's clogs. “That's good to know, Captain Marshall.” You told him, a bit sheepish.

“Marshall.” He corrected you, gently. “Just call me, Marshall.”

“Marshall.” You smirked, nodding your head. “I'm glad you enjoy the hospitality. But I also hope you go home soon. I'm sure your daughter is ready for you too.” You said, changing the subject, so the heat in your cheeks would cool off.

“And, your wife.” You added, a small lump in your throat.

“Oh, she's-”

“Code Blue.” The Hospital P.A crackled over the speakers. “Code Blue. All personnel. Code Blue, room eighteen.”

“Oh crap!” You gasped, adrenaline starting to pump through your veins. “I'm so sorry!” You said quickly, before rushing out of his room.

Sadly, you weren't able to see Marshall again. Your code blue patient took up most of your time and when you were finished with them and your other rounds, Marshall had been released to go home. You were happy for him, even though you were a bit sad that you hadn't been able to say goodbye and see him off.

But you got another opportunity to come your way.

“Hey.” One of your co-workers tapped you on the shoulder as you stood at the nurse's station, filling out a medication request. “There's a super handsome guy asking for you.”

You looked up from the computer. “What?” You frowned at her, confused. “Who?”

“I don't know, I didn't get a name. But he's damned sexy.” She chuckled, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Shaking your head, you leaned over the counter of the nurse's station, looking down the hall and towards the doors that allowed entry onto your floor. You were shocked to see Marshall standing there, reading one of the posters on the wall. “Oh my god!” You gasped, quickly pulling back, before he could see you.

“Do you know him?”

“Yeah, he was one of my patients.” You told her, fussing over your black, whimsical bee, scrubs and hair.

“Well, you must like each other.” She commented, watching you with amusement.

“Shut up.” You chuckled, going by her and trying to act natural and calm, despite being nervous beyond belief. “Marshall, what are you doing here? Is everything all right? Is your wound healing?” You asked, trying to be professional.

“Everything's fine.” He smiled at you, instinctively touching his shoulder. “It's healing great.”

“Then, what are you doing here?”

“I-uh-came to see you.” He confessed, biting the inside of his lip. “I wanted to know, if you'd like to get some coffee with me, sometime?” He asked, shoulders stiffening with resolve.

You narrowed your eyes at him, cocking your head to the side. “Aren't you married?”

Marshall drew in a deep breath, tightly folding his arms over his chest. “I was married, yes.” He replied, his face darkening. “Angie and I divorced some time ago. It's complicated and not something I'd like to get into.”

“All right, as long as I'm not being a home wrecker by accepting your offer.” You answered, relieved.

“I assure you, you're not.” Marshall said, relief dancing in his blue eyes. “So, when are you next available?”

You looked down at your watch, tilting your head side to side for a moment. “I can take my lunch break right now.” You told him, meeting his gaze with a smirk.

“All right.” He nodded, turning to push open one of the doors behind him, for you.

That day had changed both your and Marshall's lives. You quickly fell in love with each other and craved each other constantly. But there was a drawback to dating Marshall. You hadn't made that step to move in with each other yet, as much as you wanted too. So, you went to one another's place. It was usually Marshall coming over to your flat though, after he got off from his shift at the station. You would make him dinner and the two of you would cuddle up under a blanket on the couch with a glass of wine, or more specifically, a glass of wine for you and a glass of whiskey for him, to watch a movie or one of the shows the two of you had become interested in together.

“Walter.” You giggled, shifting beneath the heavy comforter the two of you were under, trying to watch Peaky Blinders.

“What?” He husked back, turning his head into the side of your face, moaning softly, while his hand squeezed the inside of your thigh again.

“Keep that naughty hand to yourself, Captain.” You teased, turning your face into his.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Marshall replied, feigning innocence.

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled, smelling the sharp honey and caramel of the whiskey on his breath. “What's this?” You asked, rubbing your legs together against his hand.

“Oh, you mean that hand.” He smirked, gently nudging his nose against yours. “I don't know how it got there, but since it is.” He said, pushing it up to cup you through the thin, purple fabric of your panties.

Your gasp melted into a deep whimper, as Marshall started to rub you, watching you through hooded and lusty blue eyes. You turned, pressing your back against the armrest of the couch and opened your legs, giving Marshall full access to your dripping womanhood. He reached under the quilt, not removing it, to keep the chill of the room off of you, as he all but tore your underwear off your body. Tossing them absently over his shoulder and behind the couch, Marshall's hand was back on your privates within a millisecond.

“Oh Christ.” You mewled, arching your back against his hand, his middle finger slipping between your slick folds as he caressed you, teasing you. “Walt, please!” You begged him, pushing the heel of one of your feet into the top of his thigh, nudging his leg impatiently.

“Mm-mm.” He shook his head at you, curving that evil digit into your canal. “I haven't seen you in two days, babe.” He panted, licking his lips. “I want to enjoy it.”

“Then take your fucking shirt off, Marshall!” You barked, outraged and worked up as the tip of his finger grazed your sweet spot.

Marshall laughed, “That requires me to take my hand off of you.” He pointed out, amused by your situation.

You dropped your head back on the couch arm, then sat up, shivering as Marshall's finger reached different angles, and grabbed at his shirt. Bunching the knitted material in your hands, you yanked on it until you managed to pull it off over his head, then tossed it in his face for extra drama. Making him chuckle and toss it back at you, before driving his finger deep into your spot. Caught off guard, your hand flew out, clawing into the exposed skin at the top of his shoulder and leaving very angry crescents behind in their wake.

“Lord have mercy, Marshall!” You cried out, your head flying back, while you rocked on his hand.

“Lay back.” He purred at you, planting a kiss to your fingers. “Let me make you feel good.”

“You always do, Donut.” You teased, laying back again, tugging the blanket up over you as you did.

Marshall blushed slightly at your nickname for him. “I try, Angel.” He replied, gently working his finger inside of you, crooking it to tease your walls, knowing all the places to hit.

Your toes curled and you moaned softly, eyes rolling shut as you rutted against his hand, rolling your hips. Marshall looked at your face, a soft smirk on his own, seeing the pure pleasure you were in. He slipped in a second and started rubbing your clit with his thumb, drawing out a loud sigh from you. The want to keep that look on your face forever was so strong inside of Marshall. You were relaxed in the essence of pleasure and bliss, with no care in the world, other than what his fingers were doing to you.

“Walter, please!” You begged him, brows drawing together as you looked down your face at him.

Smirking, Walter freed his fingers from inside of you and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you into his lap and a heady kiss. He moved to the edge of the couch and stood, taking you with him, supporting you against his body as he carried you to the bedroom, one big paw rubbing firm circles over your back to keep the flat's chill away, until getting there.

“Why do you keep it so cold in here?” Marshall commented, resting you on the bed.

“I don't know. Guess I'm just used to the chill of the hospital. I don't really pay attention to it, until you show up.” You replied, giggling as you pushed the blankets to the foot of the bed.

“I should start a fire.” He said, glancing at the enclosed fireplace, in the corner of your room, as he stood at the side of your bed, unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down his tree-trunk thighs.

“You already started one.” You cooed at him, licking your lips at the titanic tent in the front of his boxer briefs, reaching out to palm it through the black material. “A big one, Bear.” You hummed, feeling the hot beast that lived within throb against your palm.

Marshall's eyes fluttered back into their sockets as you fondled him, pressing himself against your hand, growling deep in his throat and chest. You smirked up at him, leaning forward to press your lips to his hairy belly. Smoothing your palm upwards, you curled your fingers around the elastic waistband and slowly peeled his boxers down. Even with anticipation, your eyes grew and you gasped silently, when Marshall's thick and veiny, cut cock sprang heavily free from the confines of the garment.

Reaching into your bedside drawer, you removed a square object from inside and tossed it on one of the pillows, before looking at Marshall.

“Come to me.” You whispered, removing your shirt and heading up the bed.

Looking you over, like a hungry wolf, Marshall stalked up the bed towards you. Moving over you and nuzzling his face into your neck, he nibbled and kissed at the skin there and at your shoulder, while his hands smoothed down your sides, touching every inch of your body. You felt the rub of Marshall's beard as he left love-bites you'd be feeling during your shift later tomorrow. But that didn't bother you, you wanted to feel Walter with you. Always. You had one hand tugging at the curls at the back of his head and the other clawing into one cheek of his rump, as he grabbed at your knees, shoving them wide open to buck against you, his cock dripping against your slickness, mixing with the ultimate finale.

It didn't take love for Marshall's thought of lighting a fire to become nonsensical, the two of you were heated and glistening with sweat, from your combined actions and feelings. Perspiration pearled down Marshall's vast back as he pulled away from you, only slightly, his darkened blue eyes meeting yours in a hungry and sultry gaze, that sent a chill so powerful through your burning body, goose-flesh was raised.

“Mine.” He growled, in a deep pant.

“All yours.” You gulped back, nodding and sucking your lip between your teeth.

Marshall sat up between your legs, and you grabbed at the item you had tossed on the pillow earlier. It was a condom. You tore it open and took out the opaque-red and lubricated rubber, tossing the packaging carelessly to the floor, while Marshall grasped himself at the root, the head of his member changing a shade of purple, to hold his thick cock steady. You carefully rolled the protection down over his length, marveled at how it looked, snug over the throbbing veins. Wrapping your hand around the head of Walter's manhood, you stroked it downward, ensuring the sleeve was secure in place, before reaching up to grab him by the shoulder and pull him down into a heated kiss.

While you kissed, Marshall lined himself up with your weeping entrance. It never seemed mattered how many times the two of you were intimate, you never quite grew accustomed to Marshall's sheer size. Even with the help of being aroused and lubricated, there was always that initial stretch of him easing inside of you, of his girth reshaping you for the billionth time in the two years you had been dating. But it quickly subsided into something so marvelously euphoric, that you couldn't help the soft smile that crossed your lips or the curl of your toes.

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing you against his body, an arm encircling your waist and the other around your shoulders, his knees planted into the mattress, as he rocked into you. The wood headboard smacked against the wall behind it, keeping time with each thrust. Thankfully, it was an outer wall, so your next door neighbor wasn't too bothered by the noise, and he was used to your and Marshall's love making, by now.

Good and patient, Preston.

“Christ, Marshall!” You cried out, your walls kneading around him, feeling every furious movement that begged his manhood to release his magic and bring you both into a world of unimaginable bliss.

“Fuck, babe.” He panted back, his hot breath wafting over the skin of your face.

He pressed his temple against yours, letting out small whimpers of effort and moans of pleasure in random intervals. His thrusts lost rhythm and became rougher, as he neared his climax, your own aiding the effort. Marshall throbbed inside of your quivering walls and you felt the muscles of his stomach clench and become rock hard. He made his tell-tale sound, a soft, groaning sigh, as he unloaded inside of the protective barrier between you. Nonetheless, your slick canal struggled to keep a hold of Marshall's unloading and still working cock, feeling it surge inside of you. Your back arched, pushing yourself up against his clenched stomach, nails racking down his sweaty back.

“Marshall!” You cried out, shuttering with each wave of pleasure that washed through you. “Oh god, Marshall.” You whimpered, slowly lowering yourself back down, spent. “I love you.” You sighed softly, after a few moments to catch your breath.

Marshall rolled you both onto your sides, tucking your head under his chin and against his chest. “I love you too.” He whispered back, hugging you hard against him, fingers tangling in the back of your hair.

You struggled to stay awake, not wanting to fall asleep, knowing what it meant, if you did. But you were spent from a long shift, the previous night, little sleep and the exhausted pull of your love making. Soon enough, you were snoring into Marshall's collarbone. But, when you woke with a jolt a few hours later, your heart thundering in your chest, a good enough fire in the fireplace to keep your room warm, but not roast you alive, however you were alone.

“Marshall?” You called out, hoping—praying, he was just watching tv in the living room like he did, on rare occasions. “Donut!” You yelled out a little louder, turning to grab your shirt off the floor and padded into the living room, but found it cold, quiet and empty.

You sighed, realizing Marshall had left. Turning, you went down the hall to the guest room bath and discovered the mirror was still foggy. Marshall would go there to take a shower, before he left, so he wouldn't wake you by using your master bathroom. Usually, when he showered at your place, it meant he was heading straight back into the station to work some more, without bothering to go home. You wondered how many hours your boyfriend had slept, before sneaking off into the night.

“Just one night, Walter Marshall.” You whimpered, stripping your shirt off as you headed to bed again. “That's all I ask of you. Stay one fucking night with me, without vanishing like some sort of ghost.” You sighed, crawling under the blankets.

Marshall scrubbed at his eyes, while trying to focus on the police report in front of him, Harper had given him a new case to work on. It was a double homicide with a few lead suspects, but no solid proof on which of them it could possibly be. He was hitting his wit's end, three shifts, with a four hour sleep between two of them, crashed out on the small couch in his office. He'd only spoken to you through text messages through that time. The two of you had tried to meet up for lunch, but one of his suspects had been hauled into the station and he had to cancel it, so he could interrogate them.

A soft knock sounded on his office door and Commissioner Harper popped in. “How's the case going?” He asked, depositing himself into a chair across from Marshall.

The Brit drew in a deep breath and let it out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That well, huh?” The older law enforcement officer chuckled. “When was the last time you went home?” He inquired, seeing the dark circles under Marshall's bloodshot blue eyes.

Marshall looked at his watch. “Nine hours ago, to shower.” He replied, shooting Harper a look.

“You need to head home.” Harper snorted, shaking his head. “Don't you have a new lady in your life?” He said, lifting a brow at Walter, critically. “You shouldn't be keeping hours at the station, like you were when you were a bachelor, Marshall. I'm sure it drives her fucking crazy.”

“I know.” Marshall sighed heavily, knowing Harper was right. “It does.”

You had scolded Marshall several times about working himself into the ground and not getting a proper night's sleep. He wasn't a bachelor anymore, preferring to be at the station, then sitting alone, in the deafening emptiness of his flat. He definitely was a husband in the middle of getting a divorce, where he'd rather work eighteen hour shifts, against the alternative of going home to another argument or silent treatment from his soon-to-be ex-wife and making his daughter's life a nightmare.

He had you now, and was still acting like he didn't.

“You're right.” He said, flipping the case file closed and locking it away in his desk. “I am going to take the rest of the day off.” He nodded, stretching to his feet.

“And tomorrow.” Harper added, giving Marshall a stern look.

Marshall stared at him for a long moment, before slowly nodding. “Tomorrow as well.” He conceded, grabbing his jacket from the hook at the back of his office door.

“Hey.” Harper paused, as he stepped out into the hall, turning back to Marshall. “Surprise her. Women love that stuff.” He smirked, giving him a teasing wink before heading off to his own office.

“Yeah.” Marshall nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip.

Thankfully, he knew you had the day off, which made surprising you all the easier to do.

Marshall stopped by his place first, taking a quick shower and changed. Washed up and freshly changed, Marshall went to a small floral shop to get a bouquet of your favorite flowers, then crossed town to your takeaway spot, ordering your favorite dish with something to hit your sweet tooth, before finally heading over to your flat.

Situating things in his hands, Marshall knocked on your door and waited for you to answer, his heart pounding for a reason he couldn't put his finger on. At least, until the door cracked open and you peeked out, then his pulse calmed.

“Hey, Sugar butt.” He grinned at you, enjoying the surprised expression on your face.

You swung the door open, excited to see Marshall. “What are you doing here, Donut? I thought you had to work!” You said, bouncing on your toes towards him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I got some sound advice, and I decided to take it.” He replied, bending his head to kiss the top of yours. “So, I have the rest of the day off, and was told I'm taking tomorrow off as well.” He told you, holding up the bag of food and your bouquet of flowers.

“There's no one else I want to spend it with.”

“What about Fae?” You asked, your tone teasing.

Marshall rolled his eyes at you. “I'm far too boring and uncool.” He huffed, shaking his head.

“Well, you're entertaining and cool enough for me, Donut.” You giggled, pulling him into your flat.

“Thank the heavens for that.” He smiled, letting you drag him inside and into the kitchen.

“What did you get me?” You asked, dying to know what he had in the takeaway bag.

“Things you eat.” Marshall smirked, side eyeing you. “Hey, hands off!” He chuckled, batting your hand away from the bag. “Go pour us something to drink, Sugar butt!” He said, popping you on the butt and kissed your neck.

“My sweet detective, you drank all your Rich & Rare whiskey, the last time you were here.” You informed him, giving him a gentle pat on the chest.

“Oh fuck, I did.” Marshall sighed, his shoulders slumping a little.

You smiled, moving around him to go into a cabinet. “Luckily for you, you have a very thoughtful partner.” You said, pulling down a bottle of the amber colored spirit. “Who noticed it and bought another bottle for you.”

Marshall turned around, cracking a smile at you. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” He asked, reaching out to cup your face.

You nuzzled his hand for a moment, before answering. “You got shot.” You deadpanned.

“Right.” He nodded, taking the bottle from you, then turned back to the food, pulling it out and putting it on the counter, before taking down plates.

You took down glasses and set one of them next to the plates, before grabbing your chilled bottle of wine out of the refrigerator, wiggling your brows at Walter as he moved by you for the fridge himself. Winking at you, Marshall grabbed a black case from inside the freezer and turned back, smirking as he found you already nibbling on your food. Shaking his head, he set the case on the counter and opened it, before cracking the seal on the bottle of whiskey, pouring some into his glass.

“So, how was your day?” He asked, opening the case and lifting a brow in your direction.

“It's been good.” You answered, getting your takeaway on the plate. “Slept a whole extra hour and a half.” You snorted, smirking to yourself. “Took a bath, instead of a shower, which felt incredible, and started to catch up with all of the shows I'm behind on.”

“Sounds like a day off well spent.” Marshall nodded, pulling out a pair of small tongs and removed a medium sized, chilled, black whiskey stone that was nestled inside and placed it in his glass. “I hope mine goes as well.”

“Well, we can make that happen.” You told him, holding a fork out to him.

Marshall grinned at you, taking the fork. “Yeah, we can.”

The two of you took your food and drinks to the couch, finding something to watch together, while you ate. You smirked, however, watching your Donut doze on and off, his plate balanced on his knee. Setting your plate on the coffee table, you gently took his and set it beside yours, you grabbed his hand and coaxed him up to his feet.

“Mmm.” He grunted, responding to your nudges towards the bedroom.

“Ssshh.” You cooed back, not wanting him to stir from the soft doze he'd fallen into.

Getting him to your room, you lightly pushed him back, to sit on your bed, stifling your giggle at his 'umph' as he landed. Kneeling down, you untied the laces of his boots, biting your lip as you gingerly pulled them off, but Marshall barely stirred as they came free from his feet. You managed to get his shirt off, before laying him back on the bed and covering him up.

“Sleep tight, detective.” You whispered, stroking the curls off his forehead for a moment, listening to his deep and easy breathing.

Tip-toeing out of the room, you gathered up the hardly touched plates and wrapped them up, storing them away in the refrigerator for later on, carefully poured the remaining whiskey Marshall hadn't polished off into the bottle, rinsing the stones, slipping them back into their case and into the freezer. Rubbing your face, you stripped and crawled into bed with Marshall, snuggling in against his side with a smile, excited to be falling asleep with him, knowing there was a high likelihood he'd be there, when you woke up.

What you hadn't expected was how you woke up with Marshall.

You were too deeply asleep to even dream, comfortable and warm. It was pure heaven, that you were hardly aware of the loud bang, likely someone slamming a door shut or the lid of a dumpster being dropped; nothing that was significant enough to draw you from your slumber. Nothing, but the jolt and gasp beside you. You started to pull to the surface of consciousness, struggling to understand what was going on, before you felt a pair of abnormally strong tentacles wrap around your frame. Jerking you against something solid, the air was knocked out of your lungs. While you were dragged over the edge of the bed, your stomach clenched as you dropped to the floor, crying out at the force of the sudden stop.

Realization flooded you, feeling the huffing, puffing and mountainous body of Marshall move over you, one arm still crushing around your middle to pin you against him, one thick thigh wedged between yours. If you didn't know Walter as well as you did, you probably would have started screaming at the position he had you in.

But you knew him, and you knew there was something deeply wrong with your boyfriend. Even your nursing instincts were going off for something being out of place. Marshall was panting like a wounded animal, his nostrils flaring with each breath, every muscle in his body was rock hard and rigid, but he was trembling. His teeth were gritted, like he was in pain and his blue eyes were wide and on high alert, as if he was waiting for something to happen.

“Marshall?” You whispered, apprehensive to make a sound, almost afraid that he'd snap at you, but his arm only tightened, making you hiss and wiggle underneath him, but he only held you tighter. “All right.” You groaned, relaxing to rest your forehead against the carpet, taking a deep breath of relief when his arm eased against your stomach.

You racked your brain, he was a horror hardened Detective for the Manitoba police force, what could cause Marshall to react to this extreme? Could this be a flashback from Simon?

You took a deep breath, knowing you had to help Marshall out of this, to let him know he was in a safe place. You bit your lip, bracing yourself for whatever reaction he gave you. Wiggling your arm out from underneath of your body, ignoring his attempt to keep you still, you propped yourself up the best you could under his weight.

“Marshall.” You said, keeping your voice calm and as if nothing was wrong, reaching back to rest your hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “It's all right, Walt. It's just a flashback.” You told him, pressing your head against his chest. “I'm all right. We're all right.” You reassured him, moving your hand to his neck, beginning to massage the tight muscles there.

“We're safe. There's nothing and no one here to harm us. I promise.”

“Unless, you look in my closet and notice the alarming ratio of scrub outfits to regular ones.” You said, making yourself giggle, hoping a light joke would cause a crack in the wall of his PTSD, since Marshall had always enjoyed your sense of humor.

But Walter didn't seem to react to any of it, though you didn't allow yourself to become discouraged.

“What can I do?” You cooed at him, wondering what was going through his mind. “Please, tell me how I can help you, Donut?”

Marshall abruptly stopped trembling against you and seemed to relax on top of you, but didn't move any farther. You took the win, patiently waiting to see if he made any further improvements. They took several more moments, with you still massaging his neck and just laying there with him, but Marshall finally seemed to regain some sense of himself.

“I'm sorry.” He mumbled, moving off of you at last.

You floundered for a moment, sitting up to rest your back against the side of your bed, unsure how to reply. “Mar-” You started, only to have him jump to his feet and storm into your en suite, slamming and locking the door behind him. “Okay.” You sighed, nodding curtly at the door. “You need space.” You said, to the air, then pulled yourself up and pulled on a pair of shorts shorts with a tank top.

Going out to the kitchen, you made yourself a cup of tea, pausing for a moment as you carried it out of the kitchen to fortify it with a small splash of Marshall's whiskey, before going to sit in the living room. You stared at the turn off tv, regarding your blurry reflection as you thought about what had happened in the bedroom with Marshall, then abruptly locked himself in the bathroom. The shower had turned on not long afterwards, making you suppose he was taking one to wake himself up and clear his head. You were still worried about him though, he had just turned into a statue after yanking you off the bed like that, forcing you to be still, like he was afraid something would happen, if either of you moved.

An hour and all your hot water later, Marshall emerged from your bedroom, his eyes pointed at the floor as he stood just passed the doorway. You set your empty cup on the coffee table and turned to look at him over the back of the couch, his wet curls were combed back off his forehead, making him look almost boyish.

“I'm sorry.” He mumbled again, folding his arms tightly over his chest, still refusing to look at you.

“I know you're sorry, Marshall.” You whispered back at him, your heart aching. “Please, sit down with me?” You begged, patting the cushion beside you.

Marshall lingered in place for a moment, before shuffling over to you and sitting down, arms still crossed. You stared at the circular and slightly puckered scar just below his collarbone, the purplish skin stood out in stark contrast to the pale skin of his chest, lightly hidden under the dark fur that covered his torso.

“I'm sorry, if I scared you.” Marshall elaborated more on his apology. “I also understand, if you don't want to see me anymore.” He added, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

“What?” You giggled, surprised. “Why would I break up with you, Marshall?”

He finally looked at you, brows creased like it was obvious. “Because of what just happened.” He growled, his jaw muscles flexing. “I could have hur-” His eyes searched you for any marks, an almost frantic look coming into them.

“You didn't hurt me, Walter.” You assured him. “You startled the hell out of me, with that wake up. You've caused me to be very concerned. But hurt me, you have not.”

“This time.” He mumbled, relaxing back into his broodiness.

“Tell me what happened, Donut.” You sighed, shaking your head at him. “I know you had a flashback. Why? Was it because of Simon?”

Marshall sighed, bouncing his leg. “It wasn't Simon.” He replied, licking his lips. “Before I was a homicide detective, I was in the British Army, I served three tours.” He paused and regarded you, deciding it was time to give you everything.

“I met Angela after I finished boot camp. She was in London for a holiday. We hit it off, and started a long distance relationship. I went on my first tour and everything was reasonably fine. I rose through the ranks quickly through my tours, I initially intended to be career Army. But between the second tour and my last one, Angie got pregnant with Fae. Which complicated things. Angie didn't want to raise her away from her parents in Manitoba, she also didn't want me being in the British Army, since it meant I'd be stationed overseas, away from them and being deployed constantly.”

“That is quite the situation.” You nodded, folding your legs on the cushion.

“It was.” Marshall nodded, his eyes distant. “My second tour had been rough, it was the first time I was given command of a squad of men. We got through it and all my men got home. But that's when some of my PTSD started. Loud noises would make me start or put me on edge. It was my last deployment, when I didn't renew my contract, so I could move to Canada with Angie and Fae, that it went through the roof. My men and I got pinned down by a group of rebels and I ended up losing two of them, despite the effort to keep them alive.” He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing on an imaginary spot on the rug.

“Marshall?” You whispered, reaching out to rest your hand on his knee, feeling the muscle there jump slightly.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head, his gaze clearing. “That's when I started having reactive flashbacks, like tonight. At first, Angie took them in stride. I thought they'd be better if I was back in 'that environment', so I joined the Manitoba SWAT team, and it worked for a short time. But Angie worried that was just as dangerous as being in the Army and didn't want Fae losing me.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “She had a point. SWAT could be just as dangerous at times. Get a person in the corner, when they're desperate, it doesn't matter if you're in a war-zone. They'll do anything to get out of that spot. Including killing you.”

“So, what happened?” You asked, biting your lip.

“I transferred to homicide.” He chuckled, smirking like he couldn't believe it himself. “Anyway, over time, Angie couldn't take my flashbacks anymore and we slept in separate bedrooms for the last four years of our marriage. They were a catalyst for our divorce.” He admitted, pressing his lips together, pained. “She even used them to gain full custody of Fae. Like, I was some sort of danger to my own daughter.”

“I don't think you're dangerous, Marshall.” You confessed, moving closer to him.

Marshall huffed at you. “Yeah, that's because I won't allow myself to fall asleep around you.”

“This is why you ghost me after we've made love?” You asked, looking at him wide eyed.

“Yes.” He nodded, staring back at you. “I'm terrified of something like that happening and losing you because of it.” He barked, jerking a hand towards the bedroom. “That I'll have an episode and I'll hurt you or it's just too much baggage for you to take.”

“Oh, you sweet Donut.” You giggled at him, grinning. “When was the last time you even had a flashback, before tonight?”

“I don't know!” He barked, raking a hand through his damp hair. “Two or three years.”

“That's not bad!” You said, wrapping your arms around his. “And we made it through this one.”

“I don't want you to make it through them.” He whined at you, looking like a hurt puppy.

“Walter Donut Marshall, I helped you get through being shot.” You grinned at him, stubbornly. “I'm pretty darn sure, I can help you through more flashbacks. You're not going to scare me away. I'm not going to break up with you. I love you, you silly Detective.” You cupped his bearded face in your palms.

“Stop running away from me, let me love you, shadows and all.”

“I have some dark shadows.” He whispered, turning his head to kiss your hand.

“Don't we all, Donut? Don't we all!” You giggled, kissing him soundly on the mouth.