#i am baffled by this because i refused to touch this fandom because it was cancelled/i didnt like the way it was going

[coffeeaddictandinsomniac]

catch me writing 1000 words on my phone just like i would back in middle school, locked in the office of the youth centre my mum worked at.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Sovereign Talks (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil Genre: Bit of angst sandwiched between two pieces of fluff Rating: T for language Notes: Another partially/selectively mute reader story! Again, this is somewhat self indulgent, essentially being a self-insert story with edits to make it better for a wider audience. PS Daniela says some stuff that's kinda insulting, though it's out of misunderstanding rather than poor intentions, and she tries to make up for it. Also, some of the descriptions of the reader's muteness might not make sense to everyone, as I'm essentially describing how it feels for me, personally. Summary: Daniela's favorite servant is sweet, charming, eager to please, all the things she wants from a romantic partner. But there's one detail she's never quite understood. An argument, a discussion, an inevitability.

Try as you might, it was nigh impossible to please your employer. No matter what you did, there was always something wrong, and Daniela Dimitrescu was more than pleased to point it out to you. At least her intentions weren’t severe. It didn’t really bother her if you missed a spot while dusting, or if you accidentally stumbled upon a ‘private’ conversation. What mattered to her, at the end of the day, was having material to tease you with, or ‘bargain’ with. She’d approach you slowly, musing out loud about your chores. Then she’d point out a flaw, smirking ever so slightly, before placing a finger beneath your chin. You’d make awkward eye contact, desperate to get out of the situation.

And then she’d tell you exactly what she wanted from you.

Most days it was simple enough. Or at least it had been at the start, when she first sought you out. ‘Carry these books for me’, she’d say, beckoning you to follow her. ‘Make a copy of this poem so I can return the book to Duke’, she’d command. Every single time you were powerless to refuse. Hell, you couldn’t even say anything if you wanted to. So you did as she asked. In time, you came to realize the truth behind her actions, the center of her motivations: She wanted to spend time with you.

You had been baffled, at first, to connect the dots in such a way. But Daniela made no attempt to hide her feelings, letting her touches linger on your skin, smiling without any cruelty when you were near. Once, she had even covered for you after you broke a vase. When you had tried to protest, hands waving, mouth refusing to speak, she had shrugged you off with a simple ‘you are worth the price’. Ever since then, the two of you had been rather close. Sure, she had never officially asked you on a date, but she had held your hand while the two of you read. And she had held you, swaying back and forth, as music played in a distant room. Then there were the times she caught you in the corridor, pressing you against the wall for a quick kiss… or a long one, that is. Certainly that meant something? Otherwise you’d look quite silly, blushing as hard as you tended to.

Eventually your concerns subsided considerably. It took a long, difficult conversation, however, and an argument you’d never forget…

-----------------------------------

“Have you read Crier’s War yet?” Daniela asked, looking at you over her own book. The two of you were in her personal study, near the library, lounging in peaceful quiet. Well, it had been quiet. At her question you glance up, ensuring you made eye contact before shaking your head no. “I think you’d like it. Impossible love between two people from vastly different cultures, who start out opposed… sounds familiar, hmm?” This time you nod, laughing a little under your breath. Then you’re returning to your novel, oblivious to the way your partner is watching you, her eyes narrowed. When she catches your attention once more, it’s with a question you had hoped she would never ask. “Why don’t you talk?”

Trying to hide your discomfort, you practically bury your nose in your book, refusing to look up at Daniela. In response she grabs your notepad, slowly sliding it closer to you. For every second of silence she moves it another centimeter. With a slight groan you give in, snatching it from her hands, but sending her a glare as you do. Quickly you grab your pen and scrawl her a note. Not an answer, rather a question of your own.

“Why does it matter?” Clearly that wasn’t what she was looking for, as she leans back and gives a groan of her own.

“Seriously? I’m just curious. You can laugh, groan, make other, nice little noises… I just want to know how you work,” Daniela explained, frowning all the while. Admittedly, you understand where she’s coming from. But that didn’t mean that you were terribly comfortable with this conversation. In fact, it’s a subject you’ve been dreading ever since the two of you started ‘dating’. How exactly were you supposed to explain your condition? Especially without being able to talk directly through it?

“It’s complicated,” you write, angling the paper so Daniela can read it from her side of the table. But she only spares it a quick glance, before staring hard at you again. “Fine, babe. My mouth feels like static. My tongue is heavy, and trying to talk is like walking when both your legs are asleep. There’s never not a lump in my throat.” Now she’s reading attentively, frown vanishing, replaced by a confused expression. Shifting awkwardly, you internally pray that she doesn’t have any follow up questions. Alas, there are no gods on your side this day.

“Did something happen? Or were you… born like this?” Daniela asked, watching you closely. Frustrated, you give her a pleading look, hoping that she’d get the message and back off. Instead she doubles down. “We could arrange for a doctor to come out here, if that’s what you need. All you have to do is tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. It’s a multifaceted issue, and-” you have to turn the page to continue writing at this point- “a very personal one. But if you must know, it has to do with my anxiety.” There’s a pause, and for a few seconds you think the conversation is over. The relief that floods your chest only lasts a single moment. Then you’re face to face with Daniela, who’s leaning across the table, eyeing you with an expression you can’t make sense of. Now your heart is racing, leaving you trembling.

“So… it’s not a matter of whether or not you can talk at all? It’s a choice?” Daniela questioned, sounding aggravated. Instantly you’re shaking your head, scowling at her interpretation of your words. “What, you’re saying you can’t even relax enough to talk around me? Your fucking girlfriend?” This was exactly the sort of thing you had been worried about. How could you expect Daniela to understand the way your mind locked your jaw in place? How could she ever realize how terrifying the whole castle was?

“Calm down and let me elaborate, please,” you write, as fast as you can. But Daniela yanks your notebook away from you, tossing it to the side. All you can do is stare at her in shock. This was more than just a misunderstanding, this was her actively sabotaging your only reliable method of communication.

“You want me to calm down? Can’t you see why I’m upset? I just found out my partner isn’t comfortable around me. We could have been talking all this goddamn time! Why haven’t you told me this before? Why haven’t we worked on this?” Daniela was practically yelling now, and both of you had risen to your feet. You’ve backed away a meter or so, only for her to close the space between you, one hand cupping your cheek. No matter how hard you try, you can’t bring yourself to look her in her eyes. “C’mon, please,” she whispered, voice barely audible. Tears are starting to cloud your vision. “Say something. Anything.”

Wordlessly, you pull yourself from her grasp, too overwhelmed to do anything other than let your feet carry you out of the room. Half to your relief, half to your misery, Daniela doesn’t lift a finger to stop you.

-----------------------------------

Two weeks. That’s how long it had been since you ‘talked’ to Daniela. Ever since, she had been avoiding you, and you her. Hell, for three days you struggled more than usual to communicate with anyone because you hadn’t dared to go back for your notebook. In the end someone had found you a new one. It didn’t quite feel the same though, considering your normal one had been a gift… a gift from the very person who had taken it away from you. For two weeks it had felt like every single thing was another reminder of your loneliness. You wanted desperately to fix your situation, but had no clue where to even begin. Until an irritated Cassandra hatched a devious plan, that is.

You weren’t privy to the specific details of her scheme, and could only guess as to her motivations (presumably being annoyed by Daniela’s sulking). All you really knew was that one moment you were following the middle child, supposedly to assist her with organizing something, and the next you were being shoved in an unfamiliar room. Inside, Bela was trying to stall Daniela, making up a ridiculous excuse for her to be there. As soon as you entered, the eldest daughter made a beeline (flyline?) towards the exit. Before either you or your girlfriend could process what was happening, the door had been shut and locked, trapping the two of you within.

“What the fuck?” Daniela asked, temporarily ignoring you in favor of pounding on the door. It didn’t budge, unsurprisingly, but someone outside did yell in response. Not that you could make out what the muffled voice was saying. “Ugh, I swear I am going to kill them for this.” Unable to get out, she finally turns to look at you. In an instant the anger drains from her face, replaced with a bittersweet smile. There’s enough tension in the room to weigh the corners of your lips down. It’s getting harder to breathe, and you can’t quite look Daniela in the eyes. “Hey. Hey, c’mon, if they’re going to be assholes, we might as well make the most of it, right?” She asked, voice a million times softer than you would have expected, considering your previous conversation. With that she moves to sit down, gesturing for you to join her.

“Mmm?” You ‘say’, really just making a confused humming sound. For once, you do want to talk. More than any other time you’ve wanted to. But your tongue was caught in the bear trap your teeth represented, preventing almost any sound from escaping. Still, this is a side of Daniela that you do not often see, with how prideful she tended to be. All it takes to get you to move is for her to pat the spot next to her. Then you’re shifting, blushing hard as you lower yourself onto the couch. Not quite ready to meet her gaze, you stare at your thumbs, twiddling them like an anxious child.

“Bela seems to think that I’ve made a fool of myself in front of you,” Daniela mused, more to herself than to you. One of her hands slides towards you, however, eagerly intertwining her fingers with your own. After two whole weeks of isolation… it’s an amazing feeling. “I said something stupid. It’s been driving me mad, and I have no clue what to do about it. Fuck-” she flinches as she speaks, eyes clamping shut- “I just want to fix this. I want you to feel good around me. I want you to feel the same way I do. More than anything, I want to be your safe haven.”

Your eyes meet, finally, as warmth floods your chest. Words fail you, as they are wont to do, so you leave them behind. Instead you reach for your stars- the body of your girlfriend, pulling yourself into her arms. Even as tears drip down your cheeks, you are smiling softly, overwhelmed by the embrace. Soon enough you can feel Daniela rubbing soft circles into your back with her fingers. She presses a gentle kiss to the side of your head, enjoying the hug too much to pull back even the slightest bit.

“Is there anything I can do? Anything to make you more comfortable?” She asked, for a moment not even realizing the difficulty you would have with responding. Finally connecting the dots, she changes the position of her arms, ensuring that you could stay in her lap while still being able to gesture with your hands. Instead of replying, your first concern is to gently cup your girlfriend’s cheek. Then you place a kiss on her forehead. “You’re my everything, you know that, right?” Daniela whispered, sounding almost in awe. Suddenly you’re possessed by a rush of courage, clearly bolstered by her affection, and you move without thinking. You lean back in for another kiss, hand moving to the back of her head for stability.

Both of you are smiling now, even as your kiss gets more intense, the two of you pressing against each other as best as you can. One of Daniela’s hands runs itself through your hair, before taking it in a loose grip. All you can think about is how right this feels. Your heart is racing, especially as your girlfriend switches to an open mouth kiss, letting her tongue slide across your lips. It catches you off guard, and you need to pull back to catch the breath she had so eagerly stolen. Even then you swear you can feel her pulse pounding just as hard as yours is.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away,” Daniela murmured, embarrassed, worried that you had stopped for a very different reason. In response you shake your head a little, then practically smother her face in tiny kisses. She’s giggling at that, grinning, all of her anxiety fading away. Most of yours does too. Everything feels perfect. So much so, in fact, that you feel something you haven’t felt in almost an entire year: The loosening of your jaw muscles. Clarity unstiffens your tongue, making age-old static clear up. Can I…? You wonder, wanting so desperately to use this opportunity as best as you can. After all, who knew when you’d ever be this comfortable within the castle again. Hell, the thought alone makes you more nervous, and you struggle to think of something, anything, to say.

“L-l… Love,” you stuttered, barely getting the syllable out, mouth feeling incredibly dry, mind racing, hating how it sounds because holy shit you haven’t talked in a year and was Daniela going to hate your voice and forget all about what you were saying and ruin the moment or worse was she going to hate you or thoughts thoughts pounding in your head like a hurricane, because because because-......................... Anxiety, above all else, was an asshole. One that had prevented you from hundreds of conversations, and limited a thousand more. Now, moments after finally speaking, your mind is on the brink of a tear-worthy breakdown. But you’ve said your piece, and by God has it been received.

“Yes, absolutely, fuck baby, I love you so much!” Daniela cried, equally overwhelmed, for a far different reason. She’s holding you as close as she can, burying her face in your neck. Likewise you rest yourself against her, letting your eyes drift shut, happy beyond description. There were still things you had to talk about, yes, and you would once more have to rely on your trusty notebook. Daniela had a lot to learn, to understand, but this was a start. More than that, it was the first step after the mending of a broken bone. Everything to come would be far, far easier, a labor of love done fearlessly.

-----------------------------------

“Should we open the door now? Or at least unlock it?... How long does it take two idiots to stop being mad at each other?” Cassandra asked, leaning against the hallway wall. Meanwhile Bela had her ear to the door, straining to hear what was going on within. Sure, she had gone along with her younger sister’s plan, but she hadn’t been entirely convinced that it wouldn’t end in disaster. Then again, so far so good. No yelling, no (loud) crying, just some quiet words from Daniela. Maybe they’re working things out, Bela thought, starting to smile. And then she heard something she’d never forget…

“Yes, absolutely, fuck baby, I love you so much!”

“We are not opening that door,” Bela replied, suddenly, her ears burning red. She didn’t know how things had gone from so quiet to so potentially dirty in such a short amount of time, and she did not care. Without even a hint of an explanation, she turned to leave, desperate to get certain mental images out of her head...

[lvnatiq]

Modern!au Felix Escellun x tattoo artist!gn!reader | Headcanons

a/n: Hey!!! I’m back at it again with my beautifully fucked up request fill. I’m still working on three other things, while I make you wait I took it upon myself to not starve this fandom. So here you have it. Please reblog or comment so that I have a crumb of motivation to keep up.

Should I do a smutty pt. 2 ? Who knows lmao.

Your hand slipped through the pile of designs that your colleague (and your close friend) had sent you to choose and pick apart from.

Unfortunately you were spending the night at the beautiful library of your uni, trying to balance off your school work with your actual work.

You didn’t mind spending your time under the faint scent of books and the mere sound of wood beneath you feet, but what you ‘do’ mind is the fact that the library is way colder than you thought it would be after the midnight.

Good thing that the yearning for finishing your work and leaving as soon as possible made it easier to concentrate on the task at hand.

It also made it easier for you to not notice the presence of an unexpected company.

That was until you felt the warm floral yet musky scent invade your senses as you felt the weight of cotton drape around your shoulders.

You slowly turn your head towards the owner of the coat who’s already making their way out. Desperately trying to find a way to make them stop but failing to raise your voice because of the circumstances.

The last picture of the person buried in your head was their hair caressed by the wind and their quick steps.

Fast forward to a week later, going completely out of luck with finding a place to stay you decide to ask help from your friend whom interestingly has a lot to offer.

With things going a lot smoother than you expected you stopped by the tattoo shop to finish your appointments with couple of customers before you left to meet up with your possible candidate.

“Don’t bother I’ll just call him here so you could talk comfortably.”

Your work seemed to take a lot longer than usual. So you kindly accepted your friends offer as you wrapped up the leftover stuff, finishing up the last customer.

“Hey, oh-“

The sight of your guest tickled your memories as you kept glaring at the glorious figure in front of you.

Felix, completely avoiding eye contact, placed the fallen hair strand behind his ear as he kept his eyes on the table of the tattoo equipments.

You quickly got up as you grabbed his coat from the hanger and walked back where you left him.

“Thank you for the coat, you really saved me back there.”

“Oh- no problem.”

That day you two chatted and melted the ice in between. Deciding to rent the close by apartment and start your roommate era.

Your friend smiled to themselves knowing all too well that felix was completely crazy about you.

Your encounter at the library wasn’t a coincidence either, well don’t think of him as a stalker now, he just dumped a couple of coins in the fountain wishing that you would be there that night. That’s all.

As you two moved in together you realized that there were a lot of things to be ‘caught off guard’ about him but you were most baffled by the tremendous amount of books felix owned.

“Hey Lover boy ! Would you mind recommending me some of them ?”

Felix blushes terribly and you love it so much that you constantly bother him in order to catch a glimpse of his flustered state.

Unbeknownst to you, the pile that felix left on the doorstep of your room was consisted of the books that he thought of you as he read.

Felix, abandoning his night owl habit, decided to fix his sleeping schedule for the better. Definitely not because he wanted to see you at morning before you got off to the work.

Insisting on offering you a ride on your way back home with his nice car.

Nearly every single day.

He knows that it may annoy you but he knows how much you are devoted to your responsibilities so he at least wants for you to save a bit of energy before you dive into the work.

Speaking of his nice car, it tickled your curiosity so you decided to check the price tag on the web and... well...

“Felix... you don’t so some sketchy illegal shit for a living right ?”

“It’s nearly impossible for me to work at the moment because of my studies. Why did you ask ?”

“Your car costs more than the apartment we are living in right now.”

With that, you discover that Felix’s father owns one of the most prominent chains of pharmaceutical companies and that he basically flee from his fathers mansion because he was pressuring Felix to take over his position in the future.

Being his puppet was not a thing to be tolerated in Felix’s book.

That being said, your domestic life with felix was pretty soft to say the least.

Cleaning together, cooking while talking about how your day went or getting to enjoy his expressions while he spilled his frustration against authors that didn’t affect him well.

Occasionally noticing the new cooking books appearing out of nowhere

and the delicious smell of food welcoming you after work, quite often than you expect.

Finally, more skinship.

One day whilst you two got through the gates of your apartment block you noticed the open doors of the elevator so instinctively you held Felix by the hand and ran into the mirrored box.

What you didn’t notice was the fact that you didn’t let go of his hand as you two went up.

From that day on Felix used every single opportunity to sneak his hand into yours.

Don’t blame him, it’s just that your hands are warm and the feeling of security that radiates from your fingertips is his medicine.

You absolutely avoided to tease or point it out to him because you knew that he would never do it again so you went with the flow.

You really enjoyed it though.

Snaking your arms around his waist while he is organizing the bookshelf. Feeling him shutter into your arms.

Nights became more and more enjoyable once he started to accompany you.

Everytime you caught him slacking on the sofa, you used his lap as a pillow.

Felix is extremely easy to figure out, mainly because he can’t hide anything.

Also, well

He is ticklish and you use his weakness against him, a lot.

Diving your fingers down to the sides of his tummy you started to tickle every possible sensitive spot you could catch on.

“Spit it out.”

“I-I wan’t you to- give me my first tattoo.”

Telling his words apart from his adorable giggles, needless to say you were ecstatic.

“Alright. What do I get in return ?”

“Name your price.”

You thoughtfully stared at the ceiling, humming as you blurted out your very obviously well thought out response.

“I want you to show me what keeps you up all night.”

You can’t be serious.

If you asked for an organ, he would’ve been more compliant.

You didn’t know what you got yourself into.

You basically asked for him to show you his ‘masterpieces’ that he showcases on AO3. Something that you were already well aware of.

“Deal ?”

“No !”

“Good ! Let’s see what you got.”

Felix anonymously contributed to the community by writing some of the most famous slow-burn stories on the web.

Just so you know, his author persona blew up thanks to the mind blowing, earth shattering smuts he wrote.

Yeah you heard that right

Smuts

Well he is fucking panicking now.

Nonetheless days kept on going as felix prayed each night to every single deity that you forgot your ‘deal’.

The days go on even if his worries don’t.

Did I say that Felix is a whimpering, whiny mess ? he struggles to stay in one position as the needle drags upon his skin.

“If you plan to keep on moving, I might as well strap you down felix. 5 more minutes and then we are done. Please behave.”

When you put it like that how can he refuse I mean you made things worse he is internally screaming at what you just said but he is not going to refuse a command when it’s given by you.

In exchange for giving him a tattoo you decide to let him give you one even though he’s inexperienced.

He’s terrified because he thinks that something would go wrong, his hand would slip or something and he would scratch that pretty skin of yours with a horrendous tattoo.

But you assured him nevertheless and offered him to draw something very minimal and easy. He accepted eventually.

As it turns out Felix is a natural. His hand is extremely steady and the tattoo turns out great.

Throughout the process he’s constantly asking if you’re hurt because he thinks that he’s doing something wrong but in fact he’s very delicate and gentle with the strokes and his touch.

You decide to be evil and use it against him. After you touch up your tattoo you lean in very closely and turn your cheek towards him.

“What are you doing ?” He stutters.

“I can’t possibly ask you to kiss my freshly made tattoo, so won’t you give me a kiss so that it heals faster.”

If his hands were steady before they weren’t now.

As soon as his lips left your cheek you held him by his wrist and pull him back close again so that you can lean in onto his ear.

“Don’t think that I’ve forgotten our deal. I am excited to see what you have in store for me tonight.” You winked.

Then the worst thing happened

The “tonight” came.

Felix was running in circles around the living room with one hand on his forehead wondering what could get worse after this.

Maybe you’ll be disgusted or scared hell if he knows.

He wanted to do nothing to harm your relationship in anyway because you and what you two have is all he ever wanted.

...and he believes that he has a tendency to ruin things.

But what happened was beyond his expectations.

Your eyes followed every single sentence throughout the screen, the white light traced your expressions as your eyebrows raised up and down and the corners of your lips inched closer to your ears. Your lower lip became a victim of your teeth’s assault.

He was so confused. Still waiting for you to lash out or make fun of him, at least.

“I used to think ‘what am I gonna do with you’ when it comes to you. Mostly out of frustration.”

Yet here you were with the laptop closed shut and your arms behind your head as you closed your eyes and groaned.

Slowly the smile plastered on your face grew.

”Now I know what to with you.”

[annaraebananawriter]

Somewhere Only We Know

Yellow everyone! I am finally back after a while with another Oneshot. Sorry it took me a bit. School has been rough, as you can tell. This is one that I thought of quite randomly and worked on for a few weeks. It involves a couple characters i have not written for before, which is always exciting.

Also, before you start reading, two things to note: first, is that the some I’m using is Somewhere Only We Know by Keane, but I specifically imagined it with a cover of the song by Lilly Allen, which you can find here! 

And second, is that @maggicsorceress has a oneshot with the same song and even the same pairing, or at least the first one listed. Of course, it is far better than this one is, but that’s simply because I don’t have the poetic skills they do. Their oneshot is beautiful, and you can find it here. I really recommend you read it after this one.

Besides that, happy reading!

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically Aftertale, Errortale and Reapertale

Characters: Error, Geno (Who belong to CQ) and Reaper (Who belongs to Ren)

Pairings: AfterDeath and DestructiveDeath

Warnings: Language, I think that’s it. Let me know.

Word Count: 4218

~oOo~

I walked across an empty land

~oOo~

As the god of death, Reaper was often alone.

He could touch no mortal because they would die at his touch, making him or his brother reap them. This has been a fact of his life from a very young age, only a few centuries old. He wasn’t to talk to mortals, never come into contact with them. They were beneath him. They didn’t deserve to see such an important figure like himself. 

He still remembered the first time a mortal died by his touch. He had been hysterical. He didn’t know that it was normal for him, that it was going to be his curse to bear. At the time, he had thought he had done something wrong. Like any other kid who made a mistake, he panicked and didn’t tell his creator what he had done until he was cornered by the man himself.

“Reaper,” Creator had said, voice betraying nothing of what his mood was. It was always like that. Calm. To Reaper, unnerving. “I see you betrayed my orders.” It wasn’t a question, but a fact.

Reaper wanted to hide. To disappear and never face the consequences for what he did. But that was wrong. That would be digging himself a bigger hole, and therefore a bigger punishment. Creator was law. You always went by his word, for he knew all was always right, no matter what you did. So, Reaper pushed away his fear and straightened, looking his creator in the eye, no emotion present, just as he knew the older liked.

“I did.”

He didn’t say sorry either. Father didn’t like that.

In response, his creator did something Reaper never knew possible. His mouth curved into a smile. Reaper stared, eyes wide. He wondered if this was some weird punishment for his betrayal. If it was, it just took number one as his least favourite.

Creator sighed and gestured for the younger to follow him as he started walking. Reaper followed without a second thought. “I suppose I should have told you sooner,” Creator said, not looking at him. “so that you didn’t accidentally do something like this.”

Reaper blinked. His curiosity outweighed his distrust. “Tell me what?”

And so, his creator began the explanation of why death’s power was so extreme, why it should be fear by all.

It was this discussion that sprouted the seeds that would grow into the dislike he felt for his existence and job. He would feel disgust every time he reaped someone’s soul. The feeling of his powers shifting and expanding as he did his job made him shiver. But he managed it. It was fine, in the long run. At least it was him and not his brother, who got the better part of the job.

His brother got the gentle souls. The good ones.

Reaper got the bad ones. The sinful ones.

It was this way for millennia. Doing his job, acting as the obedient soldier his creator loved him to be. All while keeping his personal business a secret. He visited Life as much as he could, which he knew she appreciated.

It was…manageable, if quiet, boring.

Until he discovered the Save Screen in the AU of Aftertale.

~oOo~

I knew the pathway like the back of my hand

~oOo~

The blackness was intriguing to Reaper. He had never seen a place so desolate before. Even when he entered the realm of magic, there were colours and stars all over the place. But this place? There was nothing. At least, until he reached what he assumed was the middle.

A patch of glass highlighted with a light that had no source.

Two floating buttons: CONTINUE or RESET.

His curiosity increased. It was like nothing he had seen before. He had seen many snowy forests, heard echo flowers saying the same thing over and over, felt the heat of the CORE all too many times…but he had never seen this. The inner workings of the world. A place he had believed to never exist.

The Save Screen.

“Who the hell are you?!”

The voice startled him and he turned, looking down at the origin. A small skeleton monster, with white clothing and a torn red scarf. He was drawn to the monster’s eye. A patch of white boxes covered it, the other formed into a glare that the god thought looked…not threatening. Maybe cute, but not threatening.

Reaper blinked. He smiled.

He decided he liked this monster.

He was gonna keep him.

“Why,” Reaper started, lazily floating forward into the monster’s face to look him in the eye. “I’m a thief.” He winked. “And I’m here to steal your heart.”

The monster blinked, slowly.

Reaper stayed smirking.

Then the monster punched him.

~oOo~

I felt the earth beneath my feet

Sat by the river and it made me complete

~oOo~

Geno was adorable.

Whenever Reaper teased him, flirted with him, or talked dirty with him, a blush would rise up and consume his cheeks and he would tense up like a cat, usually telling the god to shut up. But the god didn’t care. He knew the other liked it. He saw the smiles and amusement dancing in his eye when he tried to hide it. It made him feel smug that, no matter how much he denied it, the mortal liked having the god around.

But that wasn’t the best part.

Geno didn’t die at his touch.

Neither knew why, but the mortal just…didn’t. Maybe the glitched around his eye worsened a tad bit, but that was the significant effect. Nothing else. It baffled Reaper and confused Geno. They just decided to accept the gift for what it was.

Reaper loved it. He exploited it as much as he could, relishing in the times when Geno got fed up and punched or slapped him and he didn’t dust away, leaving the god alone. He liked the feeling of picking the other up whenever he wanted to and the other would struggle before he saw the god’s grin and then settle down, grumbling as if he was truly angry.

(He wasn’t. He was just acting like the cat he was.)

The years of this relationship were the best of the god’s life. He found that he was the happiest he ever was. His face always held a grin. His brother had asked what made him so happy, on the rare days that he was now home. Not wanting to put Geno’s life in jeopardy, he lied and made up some random excuse. Not that his brother believed him. But he stopped asking.

When Reaper realized that he had fallen in love with the mortal, he had panicked. This went against one of the main laws in place: never speak to a mortal; never befriend one. Well, he had certainly done more than speak and befriend one. He didn’t know what to do.

So, he went to the person who gave him the best advice.

His brother.

After a lecture on lying, his brother had told him to simply confess. If it didn’t go well, it didn’t go well. It didn’t matter. The two of them would probably remain friends, with as close a bond that they had. The advice gave him confidence. Reaper decided to confess right away. There was no use delaying the inevitable.

But when he got to the Save Screen, it was empty.

~oOo~

Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?

I’m getting tired and I need someone to rely on

~oOo~

Reaper was devastated.

He searched through all of the AUs over and over again, but he found no trace of the one he loved. He refused to give up. Geno had to be here, somewhere. The mortal couldn’t just…up and leave, could he?

His brother had to find him and force him back home, as he had been neglecting his duties. He was put on watch by the king, to make sure he wouldn’t run off again.

He hated it.

He tried to focus on his job because he understood that he shouldn’t be turning a blind eye to his job, but he just couldn’t. No matter what he did, something would remind of Geno and he would get angry and sad again. The mortal never left his thoughts.

He wanted him back.

He was…lonely without him.

He didn’t like being lonely.

~oOo~

I came across a fallen tree

~oOo~

Error, the destroyer, was someone Reaper didn’t interact with.

He heard rumours about the other and had seen him work from a distance, but he had never gone up and talked to the other. He was still hung up on the disappearance of Geno, even though it had been years since the last time he saw him. But when he saw the destroyer, for some reason, the curiosity that had drawn him to Geno was drawing him to Error.

If he was honest, it frightened him. Also infuriated him. Geno was the only person who had made him so happy and he had left. And here was Error, someone he had never talked to, who so ruthlessly murdered countless innocents every day, who he felt the same initial attraction to. Was the destroyer trying to replace the mortal? How dare he!

But he wouldn’t know why until he talked with the other, no matter how much he didn’t want to. It would all be cleared up. He wanted it to be cleared up. He just…didn’t want to talk to him. That’s when he thought of something that would act as a compromise, that would let him see why Error was so special without him talking to the other.

He stalked the destroyer.

…

…what?

…

In hindsight, Reaper would think later, when he was dangling from some blue strings in the Anti-Void (a place that reminded him like the Save Screen, but made him feeling unease unlike the other did), stalking someone who destroyed AUs in a snap and heard voices probably wasn’t the best idea.

Since Error wasn’t around at the moment, he looked around the place, eyeing the dolls distrustfully.

“Okay, who the hell are you and why are you stalking me?!”

The glitchy voice made Reaper blink and look down. The destroyer stood there, tense. He was glaring at the god. Something about the way he did so seemed…familiar to him, in a painful way.

(“Who the hell are you?!”

“Why, I’m a thief. And I’m here to steal your heart.”)

The god shook the past away.

He glared right back at the destroyer.

Then he noticed it.

There in the destroyer’s eyes. A look that told the god he was trying to cover something up, something that looked like…pain? But why? It wasn’t like he knew Reaper…unless…a thought formed in his head, one that seemed impossible.

~oOo~

I felt the branches of it looking at me

~oOo~

“Are you going to answer me?” Error snapped, crossing his arms defensively.

Reaper tilted his head, looking the other over thoughtfully. He needed to test this thought, to have the proof in front of him before he believed it. “Can I see your soul?”

The destroyer blinked. It took him a minute to process it. Reaper could tell when he did because a blush appeared across him checks, the blue and yellow gradient perfect. “What!” The answer resembled a squeak.

“I said, can I see your soul?”

“No, I know what you said—”

“Then why did you say ‘what’?”

“Because it’s an inappropriate thing to ask!”

Reaper raised an eyebrow.

“Shut it!” Error said, bush increasing. “I’m not showing you my soul.”

Reaper sighed. So, it’s the hard way, is it? “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Error blinked, confused. “What—”

The destroyer yelped and scrambled back a few steps as Reaper summoned his scythe and ripped himself free of his strings. The god approached the destroyer calmly and the other prepared to fight. Before he could make a move, the god thrust his scythe under his chin, the blade resting just shy of his throat.

The destroyer froze.

By the magic of the scythe, his soul was summoned forth and Reaper stared at it, no emotion present. Well then…

The destroyer’s soul was just a sliver of a piece, like it had been ripped from its owner.

It looked just like Geno’s.

The thought made Reaper’s mask break. Why did Error have Geno’s soul? The only explanation would be that somehow his love had turned into the glitch before him, who looked like a wild animal that had been cornered. The god didn’t want to believe it…but the proof was too strong.

He looked up into the destroyer’s eyes.

The truth was written there, too. Underneath the angry front he put on, there was a panic and pain that Reaper longed to take away. He didn’t want to see his love feeling any of that. The worry he had been reserving for when he found Geno overflowed and made tears gather in his eyes.

He saw Error’s eyes widen and he knew the other had seen the tears.

The god of death retracted his scythe and reached forward. “Gen—”

In a blink, he was sent through a portal and into a random AU, away from Geno Error.

~oOo~

Is this the place we used to love?

Is this the place that I’ve been dreaming of?

~oOo~

Reaper tried to talk to the destroyer many times after that.

He never succeeded.

The pain of having someone he loved always running away from him was almost too much to bear. But he kept trying. He promised himself that he would make his way through to the other. Make him realize how much he loved him, no matter what name he went by or what he looked like.

He wasn’t going to let him go this time.

Never again.

~oOo~

Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?

I’m getting old and I need something to rely on.

~oOo~

Reaper watched as Error fought Ink.

He had a plan this time and just had to wait for the right moment to use it.

He winced at every hit that landed on the destroyer and felt pride every time his love had an attack hit the other. One particular hit made him twitch with worry, fighting the urge to interfere and hold Error in his arms, making sure he was okay and stayed okay.

But if he did that, he would probably be kicked out of a job, which would just be bad for everyone.

So, he waited.

Eventually, Ink retreated, leaving Error alone in the AU. The destroyer stayed for a minute to catch his breath and Reaper watched, preparing to go over and interrupt him once the time was right.

The destroyer stood and turned, raising a hand to open a portal.

Reaper’s hand twitched on his scythe and he shot forwards.

Now.

~oOo~

And if you have a minute why don’t we go

Talk about it somewhere only we know?

~oOo~

Just before the destroyer left, Reaper grabbed his hand and pulled the other towards him and through his own portal.

Once they landed, Error pushed the other away, which Reaper allowed. He watched with a smile starting as his love gazed around to find out where they were. He watched as he froze at the sight of the dark void and two glowing buttons in the air.

CONTINUE or RESET.

~oOo~

This could be the end of everything

So why don’t we go

Somewhere only we know?

Somewhere only we know?

~oOo~

The Save Screen. Aftertale.

Their place, a place only they knew.

The destroyer tensed. “Why did you bring me here.” It wasn’t really a question with the way he said it so stiffly. So…scared.

“Well,” Reaper started, ignoring the hurt he felt from making the other scared. “I figured that if you won’t speak to me regularly, as normal people would, I had to kidnap you.” He tilted his head, smiling even if the other wasn’t looking. “I had to bring you to a place you can’t refuse.”

He could see the way the other struggled with himself. Should he drop the act or continue playing as if he didn’t know where he was? Reaper saw how the other really wanted to go with the second option, keeping this place in the past, forgotten. He didn’t want anything to do with this place anymore.

Reaper knew that. And he decided that, if Error chose that option, he would respect that. He would put Geno in the past and try to be friends with Error. If he was still refused, then he would leave the other alone. It didn’t matter how he felt on the topic.

Error wasn’t Geno anymore, not entirely, and he had to accept that.

But to his surprise, Error went with the first one.

~oOo~

Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?

~oOo~

“I never liked it here.” Error whispered, making Reaper freeze for a minute. “I still don’t.”

He blinked at the other, close to openly gaping at him. Then he shook himself and straightened, playing with his scythe in hopes to calm himself. “I’m sorry.” He really was, too. “This was the only way you would listen to me.”

That actually got a little laugh out of the other, who turned to face Reaper. “I suppose. But now that you caught me, can we leave this place?”

Their eyes met; one pair full of hope and the other full of pain.

Reaper tilted his head again. He echoed Error’s words. “I suppose.” He paused and reached up to rub his chin. “Well, that is if you promise not to run away from me. Again.” He gave a grin.

Error looked at him without amusement.

“What? It’s a perfectly reasonable request.”

“I make no promises.”

“Aw. Then I guess we’re staying here.”

“No, we’re not.”

“You’re not promising.”

“We’re still leaving.”

Reaper only laughed and Error turned and opened a portal.

They left for Outertale.

~oOo~

I’m getting old and I need someone to rely on

~oOo~

They continued bantering as they walked. It felt natural, like a piece of the puzzle clicked back into place and now everything went more smoothly. They stopped for a minute to rest, looking up at the stars.

Reaper looked over to Error.

The destroyer looked magical, sitting there and staring at the stars with a smile and eyes full of awe. He was glad that the pain so prominent in his eyes had gone away, for now. What was left was someone who deserved everything, able to sit with peace of mind that everything was alright. He deserved to be alright, to be loved. His glitches had even calmed significantly, only one or two remaining. Besides that, the mostly black bones glowed elegantly in the lighting.

He looked perfect.

Reaper smiled and an itch grew in the back of his throat. He longed to say the words he had been holding in for so long, but he wasn’t sure if it was time. They had only just reconciled. He didn’t want to ruin things before they started to get better.

But then Error turned to him with a questioning smile, looking even more beautiful that he couldn’t build up a block in time, so the words came blurting through:

“I love you.”

~oOo~

So tell me when you’re gonna let me in

~oOo~

They both froze.

Error blinked for a minute, the surprise openly shown on his face.

Reaper internally panicked. He was so screwed! Why did he do that? He had just found his love again after years of searching—years of haven given up—and now he just threw it all away. But he couldn’t just say he was kidding, too. That would just make him a jerk.

He had to calm down and explain himself. Make sure that Error understood that he wasn’t messing around, that he truly loved the other no matter what he looked like or how he acted. The fact was that he loved the destroyer.

That was it.

Reaper cleared his throat and continued. “I have for years. I was going to tell you, but then you disappeared. And now I’ve found you again. So…

“I love you, Error. And I mean that. It isn’t just something to make you feel better. It’s not some leftover feelings from Geno. I mean, I don’t even care that he’s gone! Well, I care, you know, because I loved him—like I love you! But my point is, that if you want to move on from being him, then I get that. I accept that, and I would say I moved on from him a long time ago. I just didn’t realize it because I didn’t know he had turned into you.”

Reaper inhaled shakily and swallowed. His vision had become a bit blurred from tears that had appeared with how nervous he was. Error was silent. The god of death concluded his confession in a whisper. “I love you, whatever that may be. Whether Geno or Error. I love you. Nothing in the world can change that.”

He stopped and held his breath.

Error was still silent.

“You’re an idiot.”

Reaper blinked, vision still blurred. “What?” He winced at the shakiness of his voice.

Error shook his head and laughed lightly, something soft hidden in it. “I said, you’re an idiot.” His expression changed, becoming something sad. “Why would you love me? I mean…I get loving Geno. He was normal and nice and…a monster with unfortunate circumstances. But me? I’m a monster. I’ve killed thousands of people, more than half of them innocent. I hear voices in my head and fight people on a regular basis.” He laughed again, this time in a self-deprecating kind of way. “How can you love someone like that?”

Reaper tilted his head. It seemed, to him, that Error believed he was unworthy of love just because of something he couldn’t control. By being the destroyer, he had to kill people. There’s no way around it. And just by looking at the pain in the other’s eyes, he could see that it wasn’t something he was actively choosing to do.

So, if he was doing something he didn’t want to do, why would that make him unworthy of love? In the god’s opinion, that just made him more loveable. It told him that he was a good person at the core. It was one trait that he still shared with Geno. They both were doing things they didn’t really want to do, just had or thought they had no choice in the matter.

However, just because Reaper saw it that way, did not mean Error did.

And that was something he had to change.

~oOo~

I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

~oOo~

Reaper laughed, making Error jump. “And you think that one of the gods of death hasn’t killed people?” He smiled more coldly than he intended. “It’s part of my job. I reap souls. In order to do that, I need to make sure they’re dead. That’s where my curse comes into play.” He held up a hand. “Whenever I touch someone, they instantly die. Same goes with plants. Anything living, really. I touch them and they die.”

He looked over at the destroyer. “But not you. You never dusted when I touched you. I’m still not even sure why. But that doesn’t matter.” He put his hand down. “The point is, I’ve killed people as well. You’re not special.”

Error blinked twice. “But—”

“They were innocent? I know. But that’s not your fault. It’s part of your job. You destroy AU’s, doesn’t matter if they’re designed to be good or bad. Your job isn’t about that; it’s about making room. Without you, the AU’s would crash into each other and collapse, in turn killing the entire multiverse.” Reaper smiled. “In a way, you’re protecting the multiverse instead of destroying it. Aren’t you?”

Error looked at him. “I don’t understand how you can think that way.”

“Give it a few weeks. It’ll grow on you.”

He snorted. “I doubt that. Idiocy isn’t contagious.”

“After all that, I’m still an idiot?”

“Oh, definitely.”

~oOo~

And if you have a minute why don’t we go

Talk about it somewhere only we know?

~oOo~

When they parted ways for the evening, Error stopped Reaper as he turned to leave.

Before the god could do anything, the destroyer leaned up and kissed his cheek. It was like time froze for a minute. Reaper almost didn’t believe what was happening was even real, but the warmth on his cheek was too pleasant to ignore. All he could do in turn was blink and gape when the other pulled back, a light blush on his face.

“I may not understand how you think now,” Error said, “but I think I might like to try to, if that’s alright?”

The god of impure deaths blinked and smiled, said smile full of love and affection for the destroyer in front of him. “I’d love that.”

~oOo~

‘Cause this could be the end of everything

So why don’t we go

Somewhere only we know?

Somewhere only we know?

[narniaandplowmen]

The Wild Embraced

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier Also on AO3 6773 words.

General Audiences / No Archive Warnings Apply Complete

When he arrived back at the foot of the mountain, Geralt most decisively went in the complete opposite direction of Jaskier’s smell. He didn’t hear the animal following him at a safe distance.

* * *

Jaskier didn’t necessarily plan on following Geralt. They just happened to be travelling in the same direction, that was all.

[Read the first chapter here]

CHAPTER 3 - The Wild Embraced

Jaskier was dead. And clearly not through an accident either, if the carefully stowing away of certain possessions was anything to go by, although why some items were thrown in the water was unclear. Not that it mattered, not that any of it mattered. Jaskier was dead, Jaskier was dead and it was his fault. All the stones, the curses, the attacking fans had been right in their judgements. Geralt had killed the bard, even if the weapon wielded hadn’t been a sword, or an arrow, or a carefully placed Sign. Instead, the poison of his words had been the thing that had extinguished one of the only sources of light in the Witcher’s life. And why wouldn’t it, for a man who held words in such high esteem?

Geralt barely felt the pain in his knee as a jagged stone pierced through his skin when he collapsed onto the ground. It wasn’t like it mattered anyway.

‘I’m sorry,’ Geralt sobbed to the ground, to the slowly rising sun, to nobody in particular and the world around him. ‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I never should have-’ his voice broke as the wolf jumped down and licked his tears. The creature that had followed him for so many miles, for so many days, through all kinds of weather and was still there, still here. ‘I don’t deserve your kindness, I don’t-’ he reached out his hands to push the wolf away, to yell at it, to stop its foolish pursuit, but when his fingers touched the soft fur he instead held on tight, pushing his face into the grey hairs and breathing in the pinewood smell. ‘Why are you following me? I- I’m a monster. I kill everyone close to me. Renfri, Jaskier... You’re not safe here.’

The wolf didn’t free himself from the Witcher’s grip, didn’t bite and wriggle and squirm itself free, didn’t scratch or run or bark or howl. It just rested its head on Geralt’s back as the man sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. ‘I’m sorry Jaskier, I am sorry.’

* * *

Have you ever met somebody and you didn’t quite catch their name, and now you have been friends for the longest time but you still don’t know what they’re called? Or have you ever not been paying attention to a conversation, leaving you at a loss for words when someone asks your opinion about the subject matter? Or have you ever changed into a wolf, followed the embodiment of home around until he thought you were dead, whilst you were very very very much alive? It was exactly like that that Jaskier felt when Geralt’s hand dug into his fur, apologising with a broken voice to what he believed to be a dead friend.

The first time Jaskier had seen Geralt pet a street dog with his strong, callused hands, Jaskier had wanted to turn in that exact moment, wanted the man to thread his fingers through his fur, curl up against him during cold nights, ran with him through the endless wilderness connecting the Continent’s cities and stretching far into the unknown.

When Geralt, later that night, had returned with the head of a rabid werewolf he had been hired to kill, Jaskier took the stage and performed his song, avoiding the curious stare of the innkeeper’s guard-dog Geralt had pet on his way to their room.

The next time he dreamt of fingers threading through his fur, he knew it was a dream that never could come true.

* * *

Jaskier knew he had to free himself, knew that the tight grip he was in now would squish any human, break their bones and their possessions.

It wasn’t till Roach’s loud whinny broke through the Witcher’s silent sobs that Jaskier wriggled himself loose, jumped from rock to rock until he was standing on top of the cave Geralt had exited, and let his bones and skin turn into the familiar shape he had inhibited for twenty long, long years.

* * *

If there is one thing a Witcher knows, it is that nothing lasts forever. No love, no life, no happiness nor even the Path is everlasting. Eventually, every Witcher grows slow and dies. It is the individual’s task to cherish the moments whilst they last and move on when they don’t.

Geralt had never been very good at that last part.

When his tears dried up and the wolf wrestled free, he was tempted to hold on to the beast, force it into his embrace for even a moment longer, but he knew it wouldn’t do. Reluctantly, he saw the animal jump up over rocks and bushes until it was seated out of his reach up high on top of the grave of the person he once refused to call home.

The wolf closed its eyes, tensed its muscles, and changed.

* * *

It was tradition for his kind to live and study amongst the humans once their minds and bodies had grown sharp and strong enough to make the journey to where the people lived. Any Lupinis, for that is what they had called themselves, could then choose where to roam, whether to walk the earth on two or four or either feet. Jaskier was the only one of his litter born a human, so his parents weren’t surprised when their son did not return and reports of his success amongst the bipeds reached their home.

Jaskier had returned once, warming the winter with stories of his adventures travelling through the Continent and spreading his songs. Both his forms had grown strong and fast and wise.

That winter, the Haakland mountains had echoed with song and strums and howls.

* * *

One of the features of his kind was that they never forgot a face. The Haakland caves are covered in mirrors brought back by travelling wolves visiting home. As long as you knew exactly the shape you were in, the clothes you were wearing, the items you carried as you turned, they would still be with you when you changed your fur back to skin, paws back to hands and fangs back to teeth. When Jaskier looked down at the baffled Witcher below him, he knew he looked exactly like he did the last time he had seen his own human form: a satchel on his hip, his lute on his back, and a bright red leather jacket covering his smooth skin.

‘Hello.’

His voice sounded rough, broken, apologetic and ashamed.

* * *

His voice sounded heavenly.

The faint buzz of his medallion, the distant aching in his knee and the biting cold of the breeze on his soaked skin were the only things that proved to Geralt that he was still alive, that he hadn’t drowned in the dark pool below and joined whichever afterlife awaited for those whose journey in the living world had ceased to be.

Either the heavens and hells were different than the priests proclaimed, or he had finally gone completely barking mad.

‘I’m sorry,’ the voice continued. ‘I know I should have left when you told me to,’ the blue-eyed form stated. ‘I know I should have said something earlier,’ the young man’s mouth uttered. ‘But I was- I was afraid. And I swore an oath to keep me secret. Our kind is hard to kill, but it is not impossible. I- If you want me to, I will leave.’

Geralt stood and stared at the figure, his face almost as broken as it had been when his words had cut through his lips straight into the heart of the man who had been his companion, his friend, his home. The man who had cared for him when no one else would, who had laughed at his jokes, understood his grunts, had literally sung his praises as they walked through the wilderness across the known world.

It wasn’t till the vision turned around and started to leave when Geralt found his voice.

* * *

‘Wait.’

Jaskier halted in his steps but did not turn to face the source of the sound.

‘Wait,’ the man behind him repeated. ‘Are you real?’ he continued, after a beat.

‘As real as any of us ever are,’ Jaskier replied, trying to keep his voice steady, trying not to betray the sadness in his throat, the pain in his heart, the dreadful echo in his head reminding him of the finality of this moment, of the end of the future he had never dared to imagine, of the long trip ahead of him to rejoin the family that wasn’t his anymore across the mountains ready to accept him with open arms and melodic howls and endless hunts.

‘Were you the one that followed me?’

‘I am.’

‘Why?’

‘Because,’ Jaskier sighed, turned around and looked down into the yellow, hopeful eyes below. ‘Because you’re my territory. You’re my pack. An Alpha never abandons his pack.’

‘Even after all I did?’

‘Even after all you did.’

* * *

They sat and spoke, that day. Geralt below next to a small fire, Jaskier above basking in the sun.

They spoke of the mountain, of their fears and their worries, their pasts and their present and, as the sun disappeared behind the trees and down where none could follow, whether mortal or monster, they discussed the future. Their future, and all it could bring.

The first thing it brought, was forgiveness.

The second thing a peaceful rest.

In the weeks and months after that, a slowly rebuilt friendship, one based on talks and trust and helpful treatments.

During their first contract, the kikimore stood no chance between the white sharp teeth of a large, grey wolf and the cutting silver wielded by the man in black. A colourful bard and a smiling Witcher came to collect the bounty.

That winter, a fifth wolf stayed in the Witcher’s castle, filling it with song and warmth and freshly-hunted meat.

The next, a village on the foot of the Haakberg mountains sold supplies to a strange, white-haired man with yellow eyes travelling into the wild with a large, grey wolf the people knew was neither wolf nor man, but something in-between.

* * *

Through the years in the Continent, on cold spring and autumn nights, the rabbits and squirrels and deer avoided the strange camp where a fire burned and a Witcher cradled his closest friend, his home, his companion, his everything and more.

Jaskier’s dreams of callused fingers threading through his fur, of careless kisses on his tanned skin, of watching the wild fly past him as Geralt’s legs tried to match his four-legged speed in the endless chase for freedom and happiness and love were dreams no more, but blissful reality.

And, Geralt considered, as he, many years later, watched from the shadows of the inn as his husband performed, although all may not last forever, there was nothing that could stop him from enjoying the memories of happiness, the moments of contentment, the love-filled days and futures full of forgiveness and grace. For even when the fights were rough, the nights were cold and the Path was cruel, they were fought and spent and walked together.

Later, as his fingers traced the soft skin of the man asleep next to him, Geralt realised that not all impermanence led to sorrow.

And if embracing impermanence meant embracing the Wild, this was a damned handsome Wild to embrace.

[lightwoodsmagic]

I’m worried about Liam and his album and I didn’t know where to go but you always seem rational. I feel awful because there’s only a few songs I like and the album isn’t getting good reviews but Liam DESERVES good things, and then everything with ‘both ways’ happened. I’m so sad for him, but do you think he’ll be okay? I don’t want him to be cancelled, but the song was such a bad choice? His image in the eyes of the public seems ruined. Please tell me what you think :(

Hi anon, 

Thank you for thinking of me, and for thinking that I’m rational. I know this has been sitting in my inbox for the better part of a day, but in order to be rational and approach this properly, I had to take some time to let myself play out all of my emotions. 

I’m here now! And I think I’m ready. This post is long though, so I’ve popped it under the cut. 

Before I start properly, there’s a few things I want to say first. 

- I love Liam, an absolutely ridiculous amount. Liam’s music isn’t the usual genre I would listen to, but I will always support him and his music, and his fashion, and everything else he does. 

- I am incredibly proud of him for finally being able to release his album.

- As anyone who follows me knows, I strongly believe Liam is queer, and closeted, and in a relationship with Zayn. Here’s a masterpost I made about it earlier this year.

- I’m realistic. Some things below may not be what people agree with, or wanna hear, but you asked for my opinion.

Okay. Here we go. I’ve divided it into sections to address your ask properly. I’m also aware that this is pretty late in terms of fandom, and I haven’t been on Tumblr, so people have no doubt said many of the things I’m about to say. 

LP1

First thing: don’t feel bad for only liking a couple of songs on Liam’s new album. Everyone’s music taste is different and it is completely possible to love and support someone even if you don’t absolutely love their music. It does not make you a fake fan, or mean that you love Liam less, or anything like that. Please don’t worry about that. It’s okay not to love the album. Completely okay. 

Also, YES. Liam does deserve good things, always.

You’re right; it hasn’t been getting great reviews, but even though I really enjoyed the album despite my musical preferences, some people are frustrated, and not just reviewers. People are frustrated that a third of it is collabs, that half of it is songs we’ve heard before (that weren’t just released as a lead up to the album), and that Liam seemed to hardly write on it. We’ve known for a while that something’s been up with Liam’s album, especially when last year he said he had a full album ready to go, and then suddenly it was like it was scrapped, and he had to start again. 

We also know that Liam is a brilliant writer; he wrote so much for One Direction. So many people completely disregard this because Liam once said that he was more about the melodies, and Louis more the lyrics. Under no circumstances does that mean he does not, and did not, write great lyrics, or just good songs in general. That kind of thinking is also what leads to a lot of Liam’s erasure from Home, which is something I also touched on in the masterpost I linked above. It’s something that frustrates me a lot, when people forget about his writing ability. It doesn’t help though when he didn’t, or maybe wasn’t allowed to, write more on his own debut album. 

Overall, in terms of his album in general, I’m exceptionally proud that it’s been released, and sad for him that it’s not getting great reviews. Reviews don’t always matter, though! The support for the album from other sources has been really brilliant, and I’m sure he was feeling the love (and still is, despite recent stuff that I’ll touch on now).

Both Ways

No matter how you look at the situation, no matter who you are or what you think of Liam, it is baffling to me that this song went through numerous people to be released, especially knowing that a large part of Liam’s fan base consists of young, queer women from his days in the band. 

It should never have been a surprise that the reception was bad; the people who are upset about it are allowed to be upset, and their feelings are valid. In a world where bisexual and pansexual people are constantly fetishised, it’s a kick in the face for some people. I’m pan, and while personally I wasn’t overly offended by the song, I did cringe at a couple of bits, and I have no right to tell other people how they should or shouldn’t feel. 

To me, there’s a couple of options as to what happened here:

- It was genuinely just a gross misjudgement on everyone’s behalf. People make mistakes. I hate cancel culture. At the moment, if this is the case and they all genuinely didn’t think it would be this bad, I’m not sure if Liam addressing it would be a good thing, or if it’d just make things worse. If he apologises, it’s going to seem disingenuous to a large number of people, but if he doesn’t, it’s like he doesn’t care at all about the people that’ve been hurt. It’s not a good place to be in. 

- It was a purposeful song put into his album by his team to push his narrative. Liam’s in a shit spot at the moment. A very large majority of the media attention leading up to his album used negative promo, like his ‘relationship’ with M*ya and the fight at the bar during Thanksgiving. Aside from very recently, Liam’s team have been a nightmare, and it’s frustrating when people can’t see that he’s in a situation just as bad as some of the other men. Would I be surprised if this explanation is the correct one? Abso-fucking-lutely not. I’ll touch on it a bit more in the next bit though. 

No matter what, the song was not a good decision, and was not going to go down well. Alllll of this leads onto…

How it affects Liam’s image

I’m separating this into three parts to explain it the way I think I need to; the part of the fandom who believes he’s queer and closeted, the part of the fandom who don’t, and the general public.

The part of the fandom that believe Liam is queer and closeted

Liam’s image hasn’t changed here. This whole thing has made this section of the fandom angry, frustrated, and sad. At a time when everyone should be able to just relax and enjoy Liam’s new album, we’re bombarded from all over the internet with people trying to cancel him. Angry because Liam is being absolutely attacked, especially at a time when he’s just spoken about how fragile his mental health is, and because there’s quite a few hypocrites around at the moment. Frustrated because there’s nothing that can really be done at this point, and when it comes to Liam, people never seem to care as much as they should. Sad because we love him so much and he deserves such good things, and people never seem to care enough to recognise that.

It’s also frustrating that people can’t, or refuse to, realise that Liam is just as closeted, has had just as much PR bullshit including at the moment, and suffered through forced interview after forced interview, and been made to say a million things. It’s also important to note that if Harry can have a stunt song, and Louis can have a stunt song, Liam can also have a song (even if not directly stunt related) added to his album to push through his current narrative. They’re different situations, different songs, and different explanations, but they all have the same running cause. Just something to think about. 

The part of the fandom that don’t think that

Fuck me, I never realised how massive a chunk of this fandom there is that does not give a shit about Liam James Payne. Can’t relate, but okay. In terms of his image here, it kinda depends; for some people, they’re not fussed enough to pay attention, but that can mean that they’ll just believe he’s an arsehole here because they can’t be fucked to look into it. People don’t have to be invested in all five of them, of course they don’t, but it might be a big negative here. 

For other people, the ones that seem to hate him for some reason, this adds so much more fuel to the fire. There’s a lot of people currently calling him out for homophobic things he said about Harry, which I’ve spoken about before but can’t find my own damn post but the masterpost I tagged at the start of this mentions it a tiny bit. When this swirled up again recently in the last month or so, which interesting timing, the media ran a TONNE of articles about how Liam had been talking shit about Harry. Harry liked the very next tweet Liam posted, even though it had nothing to do with him or the situation, and Harry wasn’t just on a liking spree. It seemed very much like a ‘hey, don’t worry, we’re all okay, don’t believe this shit’. This section of the fandom is exceptionally unlikely to change their mind about him unfortunately. 

I spoke about this very recently, but the fact that people can’t see Liam’s situation for what it is, and can see the others, is beyond frustrating because the patterns are INCREDIBLY similar, and there’s very similar situations. 

Also, Liam and Louis’ friendship is 100% legit. They’re very close. If there’s anyone out there who loves Louis and thinks he’s closeted, but hates Liam, do you really think Louis would love Liam so much if this was really who he was? Someone who doesn’t care about the community that Louis is obviously so fiercely proud of, and someone who talks legitimate shit about Louis’ partner? Of course he wouldn’t, because Liam is also closeted and stuck in a shit situation and made to say things in interviews to stir up One Direction drama for the media. Speaking of the media though…

The general public

When I woke up this morning and Mar told me about the hashtag that was trending on Twitter, I was instantly so emotional, for a lot of reasons. As I said before, I hate cancel culture in the easy way it exists. People are allowed to make a mistake, or slip up, or make a wrong move; everyone is human. It’s how they respond to it that should change things. 

There’s a couple of problems here, though.

- Liam can’t really respond to it in the way he needs to. Like I said before, I don’t know whether it’d be better or worse for him to talk about it. The only genuine way he could is to come clean about everything, and he can’t fucking very well do that, can he? So the apology will just be a lie, and people probably won’t believe it anyway. 

- People are more willing to forgive someone if it’s one mistake, but Liam’s team have fucked with his image so much that to the general public, it’s not one mistake. We know they’re not real, but if we step back from the fandom and try to look at it through the eyes of someone who knows not very much about him and only knows what the media pushes, it’s a slightly horrifying image. 

When I speak to my friends about Liam, people often think he’s arrogant, conceited, and your standard ‘gym bro’. The GP may remember the times he was made to say homophobic things, and if they don’t remember, they’re reminded in every new article. They see him as the young guy who dated a woman in her mid 30’s and got her pregnant, and who hardly sees his ‘son’ and therefore is a deadbeat ‘dad’. They see him now as the man in his mid 20’s who’s ‘dating’ a teenager, and the articles I’ve seen today all mention her, some mentioning the debate about her age and others trying to say the song is about her even though it was being written about three years ago. They see him as a man who has fights outside bars, and are told it was because of his underage ‘girlfriend’. They see him as an artist who sings about getting wasted, sex, and being rich. 

I know I’m setting a bleak image, anon, and I’m sorry, I am. I don’t believe a single word of the above obviously, and NO ONE should, but it’s the reality of the situation for the GP, and it shouldn’t be pushed to the back as if we should only blame other sections of the fandom for his image, or that this isn’t, realistically, how it looks for Liam right now. 

We know Liam as the kind, sweet, caring, protective, talented, queer man that’s been there for us through his music and his words, who’s been there for the boys the entire time since the band started, who’s suffered through addiction and mental health problems to come out the other side stronger than ever. 

They don’t know that, anon, and I don’t know what Liam will do to come back from this massive of a social media hit. There’s numerous articles slamming him, the hashtag trended for almost a whole day in Australia at least, and for some of the GP, it’s the final thing in a long list of bullshit that Liam’s supposedly done. Each article mentions all of the above things again too, and Apple Music even mentions Ch*yl and B*ar directly by name. 

I’m hoping for his sake that in a few days, this will all blow over, and it’ll be handled the way it needs to be handled. The problem is that I don’t know what the right way to handle it is. 

I think he’ll be okay. I believe he’ll be okay, I do, but I think in terms of the GP, he has a way to go. I want the very best for Liam, always, and I will always continue to love and support him. Everyone else should too, because right now, he needs it from us more than ever.

[noirewrites]

For You, I Will Cross Any Waters

Fandom: Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Pairing: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain Cheng

@art-the-f-up sorry this comes a lot late!

I live! Okay, well, I know you guys know I live given I updated United as well as started with a Lukanette shot anddddd this fic is to blame for the Lukanette one, I swear! You will see why in the next chapter. Also, this is the chapter where the story finally develops — aka, where I diverge from the plot list for Ladynoir July 2020 as well. I wanted to put this along with Day 6 prompt, but the chapter got twice the usual length and seemed so awkward that I now have one finished and one half written chapter now xD

Thanks for bearing with me, hope you guys enjoy! <3

Chapter 6: Meeting the Future Bride

A beautiful melody echoed through the wide room. As the final chord was struck, the door opened.

“Adrien, your Father wishes to meet you,” the woman at the door said in a monotone, causing the blond at the piano to turn his attention to her.

“Is it about yesterday, Nathalie?” He asked nonchalantly.

“He didn’t disclose the purpose of the meeting.”

Adrien sighed. “Fine, I will be down in five minutes.”

As Nathalie left, Adrien distractedly pressed the piano keys again. Suddenly, the top of his black piano moved a bit and acid green eyes morphed into the instrument, blinking at him. Adrien suppressed a bark of laughter before shaking his head lightly. Reaching over, he moved his hand over the shiny surface, causing the piano to purr a bit. Finally, he got hold of something firm, and plucked the black cat out of the piano.

The cat hissed a bit at the sudden interruption from its relaxation, letting out a small yowl as Adrien cuddled it in his arms. But as the blond stroked his fur, the yowling died down to give way for purring.

“Say, Plagg, you have a knack of spooking me out, don’t you?” Adrien chuckled, dodging his finger away from the cat’s reach as it tried to bite him.

“Whatever kid, I am angry that you disturbed my peaceful catnap,” the cat snarked.

“But you are liking the cuddles~~”

The feline chose not to reply, opting to cuddle closer to his owner.

As he stroked Plagg absentmindedly, Adrien quietly asked, “What do you think Father wants to talk about?”

“Would bet my entire cheese stash this is about last night’s shenanigans,” came the reply.

Adrien sighed and put the cat down, “Guess I brought this upon myself. Stay hidden while I am gone, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” Plagg said as he waved a dismissive paw in the air.

Shaking his head lightly, the blond walked out of his room in the direction of the atelier. The atelier where his father was waiting for him, probably to deliver to him another lecture on maturity and responsibility.

Reaching the grand doors, Adrien felt a bout of uneasiness pass over him. Years of subjugation to his father’s wishes had still left their impressions in adulthood. No matter how independent he wished to be, he sometimes couldn’t help but feel as if he was still held under Gabriel’s iron grip.

Knocking on the giant doors, the blond took a deep breath in, trying to calm his racing heart. A monotonous “Come in” came from the inside, prompting him to reach forward and enter the room.

Gabriel Agreste stood behind his desk, his eyes sifting through some random sketches. He spent a good moment or two at his task before turning his attention to Adrien, his neutral expression giving way to a slight frown.

“Hello, Father,” the blond greeted.

“Hello, Adrien. Can I have the pleasure of knowing where you were last night? For my reputation at the ball was severely compromised thanks to your frolicking,” Gabriel asked, cutting to the chase immediately.

Something in Adrien bristled. It had been a long time since his Father had had a proper conversation with him. Still, when they met again, the first thing the older Agreste cared about was Adrien’s whereabouts, and that too just because the Agreste reputation had been compromised?

Doing his best to not let his frustrations seep into his tone, Adrien replied in a cold monotone, “I was away from the ball, Father, to escape the clutches of all those high-class women who apparently were stickier than the stickiest glue we have.”

The older Agreste cocked an eyebrow as he held his chin thoughtfully, his mouth upturned in a slight smile. “Hmm, I guess you have got a point there, young man. Those ladies certainly didn’t care about your personal space, did they?”

The statement baffled Adrien. Was his Father actually agreeing with him for once?

Gabriel walked towards Adrien, clapping his hand on the younger Agreste’s shoulder as he proudly said, “Well, don’t worry son. You won’t have to encounter those ladies again.”

He turned his head up, looking in the direction of the doors before calling out, “Nathalie, please bring our guest in.”

The doors opened and someone walked in. Adrien turned around, only for his gaze to land on the strange new girl who stood in the atelier.

She wore a black satin evening dress with bell sleeves, overlaid in dark orange chiffon and black lace. The sweetheart neckline was a bit too deep for his liking. But what really unnerved the young man was the twinkle in her olive green eyes and the smile etched on her red-painted lips.

“Adrien, meet Ms. Lila Rossi. She has been eager to meet you since yesterday,” Gabriel informed.

“Um, hello?” Adrien greeted her, confused. “You have some news for me?”

He hoped against hope she hadn’t been present at yesterday’s ball, for that would only mean —

The young woman let out a shrill chuckle as she held his shoulder. “I now see what Monsieur Agreste meant by you being a ray of sunshine. Oh dear, I am your fiancée!”

On hearing her claim, Adrien immediately shrank away from her touch, “But—But I don’t even know you!”

He turned to his Father, eyes sparking in rage. “You said I could choose my bride!”

“And you refused that offer by running away, young man. That is no excuse to delay your wedding day.”

The young man tried hard not to grit his teeth at his Father’s words.

“As Adrien stated,” Gabriel turned to Lila, smiling, “You both don’t know each other. Then how about you young people solve that?” Gabriel suggested, heading for the door. “I have an important meeting I need to attend. Hope you two enjoy each other’s company.”

Saying what he needed to, the older Agreste left, leaving a shy Lila and a flabbergasted Adrien behind.

“So,” Lila spoke in a coy tone, “how about we go somewhere private and get to know each other?”

She subtly hooked her arm on his elbow, her fingers lightly trailing up his arms, causing him to cringe. “Somewhere like your ro—”

“The river side!” Adrien interrupted her, much to her chagrin. “The riverside’s a cool idea, Ms. Rossi. Fresh air with much needed quiet.”

And open space , he mentally added sourly.

Putting on his best grin as he approached the door, Adrien asked in a faux cheerful tone, “So, shall we go?”

Lila blinked stupidly for a moment, then broke into a coy smile of her own. “Sure, Adrien.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And my uncle was a student of the great Beethoven, oh! I wish I had learnt some piano from him before he passed away,” the brunette said in a simpering tone, dabbing at her eyes to wipe away the non-existent tears.

Beside her, Adrien plastered a sympathetic look on his face as he fought the urge to roll his eyes. In the fifteen minutes he had spent with her, this Rossi girl had just bragged on and on about her family and her charity work.

According to her, she personally knew many famous people around the globe. Surprisingly, even though he was an Agreste, Adrien had never heard someone mention the title Rossi in any influential circle, let alone specifically name Lila.

Though he had to commend her on one thing. The woman had a fabulous ability to weave false stories and lie through her teeth.

“Oh, Adrien,” Lila cooed, holding his arm in what was meant to be a soft gesture but certainly was not, causing him to lean back a bit, “I have been talking only about myself all this time. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”

He nervously chuckled, rubbing at the nape of his neck in anxiety, “I—uh, you already know much about me, I am not someone unknown in the high-class, right? Uhm, how about you ask me yourself?”

The brunette held her chin in a thoughtful look, apparently thinking of some topic to converse on. Adrien took the beat of silence as a chance to gaze at the river that flowed beside him, his heart calming down a bit on seeing the sparkling waters. Thoughts about the masked beauty who lived underneath the surface helped his anxiety, too.

“Oh! I know what to ask!” Lila suddenly exclaimed, jerking him back to reality. “Is there anything about you that no one knows?”

“Something about me that no one knows?” the blond echoed her question.

“Yes,” she affirmed, leaning into his personal space and causing him to stagger back a little, “you know, since we are soon going to be married, there better be no secrets between us!”

He couldn’t help but stammer. “I, uh—”

Know what? I have a magical cheese-loving black cat who gives me the power to transform into Chat Noir and ALSO! I already have a love interest, a mermaid called Ladybug who is far more beautiful and truthful than you! And woe to me if I am going to tell you anything about this!

Pausing his internal thoughts, Adrien looked towards the river in an attempt to calm himself down. And then an answer came to him.

“Well, since you asked,” he turned to catch Lila’s attention, before looking back at the river again, “I have always felt connected to water.”

“Connected to… water?” Lila echoed his words, disbelief evident in her tone.

“Yes.” The man’s eyes sparkled as he walked to the riverbank and bent down, slightly gliding his hand on the water surface and bringing his wet hand to his eyes, immediately feeling a shiver of pleasure run down his spine. “I feel like the water’s calling out to me, asking me to be one with it.”

There was a pregnant silence between the two, before it was broken by the sound of stifled chuckles. Confused, Adrien turned his head to see the brunette holding a palm over her mouth to prevent laughter from escaping her.

“Did I say something funny, Miss Rossi?” the man asked, his cold tone poorly masking the offense he felt.

“Oh, I-I am sorry Adrien, but…” her voice trailed off as she stifled another laughter, before continuing, “Your thoughts match with the pests of the water.”

“And?” He prompted her, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

“Well—” the young woman looked at him as if he had asked her about why water existed. Coughing a bit to regain her composure, she continued, “—uhm, you are an Agres—”

“I know who I am and let me tell you, Lila Rossi, my Father’s name does not define my thoughts. I am an independent individual with my own thoughts and feelings, and even if they match with the mermaids or what you call the ‘pests of the water’; I am actually glad they do.”

Getting up, he reached towards Lila, his acidic green eyes causing her to stagger back a bit.

“I-I really didn’t mea-mean to off—” she stammered.

“Save it.”

Saying so, the blond walked off, leaving behind a shocked, yet fuming Rossi girl.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, so she’s just like your Father. And?” Plagg nonchalantly asked, pawing at the ball of yarn that Adrien had tossed to him and completely ignoring his human who laid in his bed, face buried in the pillows.

Adrien lifted his head and exclaimed, “She’s my fiancée, Plagg!”

And plopped his face back into the pillows, muffling his screams.

The cat sighed, pushing the yarn ball away and shaking his head remorsefully. He strutted over to the bed and jumped on his chosen’s back.

“You humans and your melodrama.”

“Whatever, it’s not like you have a secret love interest, you cheese monster,” came the muffled reply.

The cat bounced on the man’s back, before lightly scratching him with a claw and causing him to yelp. “Mind you, my love interest is your Bug’s guardian.”

Adrien turned his head to the side, glancing at his animal friend as a smirk adorned his face.

“Wasn’t Camembert the first and last love of your life?”

“Shush you,” Plagg nudged him on the face, causing the blond to giggle. “Now, if you have stopped moping about your currently messed up civilian life, what plans do you have for wooing your Lady fish tonight?”

Adrien blushed a bit, before his gaze turned to the piano that still stood in the middle of the room. He thought for a moment, then an idea dawned on him.

“I guess I have just the perfect plan, Plagg.”

[purrincess-chat]

9, 13, 16?

9. Are there any fandoms you don’t have any ships for?

Voltron. I wasn’t there for ships. I just wanted buddy adventures in space. 

To an extent She-ra? Like I guess I ship some stuff, but like it’s not what I tend to focus on when watching the show, ya know? I’m not there for the ships, I’m there for the plot. Ships are just bonus and fun to look at online. 

13. Is there anything you ship but refuse to interact with the community for?

To an extent, the love square. There are certain parts of this fandom that I wouldn’t touch with a 10ft pole because as I mentioned in my last ask, some peeps be ready to sack, pillage, and burn if you express any indifference or criticism of their beloved ship or if anything “threatens” their beloved ship, and I’m just kinda like ehh grow the fuck up or die mad, ya know? I’m a multishipper. Sue me. 

16. Are there any ships you just can’t/don’t understand? What are they?

I mean, a lot of people here know what ships I’m not fond of, but even for ships that I’m not fond of necessarily, I don’t discredit people for shipping them because I ship some weird things I suppose, classmates who have never even looked at each other, adults who have never been in the same room as one another, so I never have problems understanding why someone would ship something, but what I sometimes fail to understand is why some ships become so popular when to me they just look average at best. Certain ships with the tomato are this way for me. Whatever this DC trend going on right now baffles me by how popular it is because it’s kinda niche and crossover ships don’t usually get this much attention? Like not knocking anyone, but like I’m genuinely confused why and how so many people like this. 

Gabethalie is one that I can’t really get on board with or understand why people like it cause like...why? Yall out here really shipping adultery? Like, I’ve written it before but in my set up, Emilie left Gabe and was not in the picture anymore, but in canon that bitch is just asleep in the basement. Gabriel is literally trying to bring her back to life or some shit. And Nathalie is just moving in on that shit? Why am I expected to believe this is romantic? Why does Nathalie even like Gabriel? He ain’t cute. He’s a socially inept asshole who emotionally abuses and neglects his son, so like? What is the appeal here? Can’t be bothered to care about that one honestly. It’s one of those things that I look at canon and ask why? What purpose does this serve other than making a bunch of people feel really weird? 

[thetunewillcome]

Heaven’s Grief, Hell’s Reign

Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley

Rating: M (to be on the safe side: sexual content, mentions of torture, drinking)

Tags: Crowley’s imagination, post-bookshop fire, first kiss, grief/mourning

Word Count: 1,802

Whumptober Prompt: delirium (@whumptober2019)

“I thought of angels choking on their halos.

Get them drunk on rose water, see how dirty I can get them,

Pulling out their fragile teeth and clip their tiny wings.

Anything you say can and will be held against you,

So only say my name: it will be held against you.

If Heaven's grief brings Hell's rain,

Then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday,

(I know I'm bad news.)

For just one yesterday.

(I saved it all for you.)

I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way.

Still, I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday.”

- “Just One Yesterday,” Fall Out Boy

Two bottles of Talisker, a singed book, a mountain of splinter-sharp regrets.  Pick one from the pile and hold it to the light.  Never mind how it cuts into the pad of your thumb and draws blood.  You need to look – you need to bleed – because you fucked up and now he’s gone.  The bar around you blurs at the edges, disappears.  Look.  You deserve to spend the last hours Earth has left examining each chance you had to do it differently.  To save him.

Here is one.

“That won’t happen.  You’re so clever.  How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?”

And in his memory, he feels his hesitation, sees himself climb back into the Bentley, toss a cold lie in the angel’s direction, and speed away.

Here is what he should have done.

(Continue reading on AO3 or below.)

“That won’t happen.  You’re so clever.”  Two quick breaths.  Then, “don’t you know what you’ll lose if your lot wins?  What you’ll suffer if they don’t?”  Because he must not have.  If he had known these possibilities, he would have shared in Crowley’s panic.  He would have taken him up on his offer.  So he must not have known.

Crowley should have shown him: first one and then the other.  To show Aziraphale what he had to lose, all Crowley had to do was grab hold of his lapels and pull him forward, finally, to shatter the pristine space that had hovered in between them like a polished pane of glass for six thousand years (look, don’t touch) in a collision of lips and teeth.  He would have kissed him with the frenzied hunger of a starving man, and Aziraphale would have kissed him back: yes, he would have, after a moment’s baffled stillness.  This, he would think, a hand clutching at the side of Aziraphale’s jaw, this is what we’ll lose.

And when Aziraphale started to see it, Crowley would tear a shaking hand away from him just long enough to move them to the privacy of the bookshop.  Now for the hard part, the lesson that Crowley regretted knowing how to teach, but in this revised narrative, he would have had the courage.  Now, Aziraphale’s trust, the light that had once caused Crowley to fall for him, was blinding him to what lay waiting in the shadows.  If he did not want to lose Aziraphale, he would have to pull the brimstone darkness out from inside himself, provide the shade needed for Aziraphale to open his eyes.

Guiding with a grip that dug into Aziraphale’s hips, Crowley pushed him backward until his heels and shoulders hit the closest bookshelf.  His surprise at the collision broke the kiss, and Crowley stared into his blue eyes, thought a silent apology for what he was about to do, and began.

“They like to pull teeth,” running a thumb across Aziraphale’s lips.  “To start out.  Slowly, one by one.  Clouds your thoughts, that kind of pain does.”  Kiss those lips while the words sink in, before he has a chance to object.  Worship what they would use against him.

“I saw them, once,” he murmured, biting his way down Aziraphale’s neck, “make a demon drink holy water.”  Shivering from the tangle of terror and need, he tugged Aziraphale’s shirt free from his trousers, slid a hand up underneath to touch skin.  “You can imagine the burns, from the inside out.”

“Crowley, hush,” low and breathy.  Avoiding lingering eye contact, he checked Aziraphale’s face, hoping for and finding lust and fear, substantially more of the former than the latter.  Aziraphale swallowed thickly but pressed on, picking at the buttons of Crowley’s vest with nervous fingers.  Yes, need me; know what I know; give up your stubborn, misplaced hopes and save yourself.  Come with me.  With an impatient groan, Crowley shrugged out of his jacket, ripped the vest out from under Aziraphale’s hands and tossed it on the floor, then slid Aziraphale’s coat from his shoulders.

Another kiss, hand sliding into white curls, twirling them around nimble fingers and pulling lightly.  “Before they’re even close to finished, some rip their own hair out, patch by patch,” he whispered against Aziraphale’s lips, “mad from the pain.”  Aziraphale’s hands fell still, but Crowley moved his own deftly, making quick work of the bowtie, waistcoat, dress shirt.  Crowley pressed a reassuring kiss to his lips, reminding him: I am here, and I am not them, and I hate it, but I have to do this.  You need to know this fear.  Then, he vanished his own shirt and tie.

By now, Aziraphale had caught on, accepted the words that accompanied Crowley’s eager hands.  Their time here was growing steadily shorter, and that first kiss had started something Aziraphale was desperate to finish.  

When bare skin met, Crowley slipped a little, a quiet “angel” escaping his lips in an exhale as he spread his hands on Aziraphale’s strong shoulders.  Six thousand years of wanting this, and it had to happen now and in this cruel way.  But if not now, then never at all.  If not Crowley’s hands, then theirs, and they would make good on his hollow threats.

Aziraphale’s fingers working at his belt jolted him out of his thoughts.  “I know,” Aziraphale said, voice heavy with wanting, “I know what they are capable of.  Please, you don’t need to explain.  I’ve been wanting this, wanting you, for so long, but I never…”  Crowley’s pulse thundered in his ears.  “While they’re all preoccupied, we can,” a warm hand moving under fabric, “enjoy this, now.  And if this really is the end… Crowley, I – ”

A moan climbed up Crowley’s throat, escaping through clenched teeth.  “It doesn’t have to be. If you would just, mm, listen,” he hissed, knowing Aziraphale still was not convinced.  Time for the last card in his hand.  “Wings.  Show them to me.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in surprise.  Until this point, the talk of torture had only mildly affected him.  Once, Aziraphale had led a platoon of angels into battle, guarded a gate of Eden.  From his time on Earth and the disconcerting attitudes of his superiors, he had developed a nervous energy in his hands, a hesitating lilt in his speech, a tendency to over-think and doubt.  He would do all he could to avoid violence, but that did not mean he feared it.  Any fear he felt up to this point had been for Crowley, thinking of how Hell would punish him for his disobedience when they finally caught up with him.

This request, however, gave him pause.  To bring out his wings was to make himself more vulnerable than he had ever been around Crowley.  Aziraphale needed time, time to process all of this, but time was exactly what they did not have.  He looked up and into Crowley’s dark lenses, silently questioning, hesitating even as Crowley’s hand moved up his back to rest between his shoulder blades.  “Angel,” Crowley warned, “now.”  Like this, so close, Crowley could sense the beating of Aziraphale’s heart, feel how much Aziraphale wanted him.  Crowley knew he was considering refusing.  If he did, this would all be gone so soon. Slowly, Aziraphale closed his eyes.

Suddenly, the air around them rushed away, finding itself displaced, bookshelves shifting back, and Crowley was enveloped in white.  Looking at the pristine feathers around him, he forced himself to focus.  To remember the day, hundreds of years ago, when he had ventured down to turn in reports and overheard the murmurs about a captured angel.  That day, choking down bitter fear, he had found the right holding cell and peered in.  He had almost collapsed from relief when he saw it was not Aziraphale, but it easily could have been, and what they were doing to brilliantly white wings just like his… Crowley forced himself to remember and search for the words.  Pull.  Tear.  Break.  Burn.  Feather by feather – he thought as he reached out and reverently touched the tip of one, Aziraphale watching him – they would destroy you.  

But the words died in his throat.  Those pale blue eyes did not flicker with fear; they shone, full of love and trust.  Fingertips hovered on the waist of Crowley’s trousers, waiting, and he was tempted to abandon everything that did not involve those fingers on his skin.  Continue.  You must, Crowley thought.  If anything good could come of his sinful existence – his suffering, his darkness – it was this, now, but only if he could finish what he had started.  

“Your wings, they,” he managed in a rough whisper, and then he looked up at them again and saw the flash of lightning, heard the clap of thunder, the patter of rain: the memory of the last time he had stood under these wings, in Eden.  Without his permission, his facade crumbled away and he pitched forward, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale and burying his face in his shoulder.  The angel did not deserve to know the horrors demons knew.  Aziraphale had not questioned and fallen and earned that darkness, and Crowley loved him far too much to cast a shadow on his gorgeous light.  He could not carry on.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, holding Crowley’s trembling body.  “Dear, it will…”  His voice faded, as if he knew better now than to say it will be okay, as if he knew it couldn’t be.  Not because Crowley had convinced him to give up his hope and run, but because Crowley had failed.

Even in an imagined memory, one you had control over, you failed.  Too weak to leverage all the wickedness that She cursed you with when She cast you out of Her grace.  What was the point, then, of your Fall?  The flames, the blackened feathers, the sharpened tongue, the scorched faith: all utterly useless against the inferno that torched your world and killed your best friend.

Remembering where you are, you motion for the bartender.  “Same again.”  Pick up another fragment of regret.  Stare at it so your eyes don’t linger on the empty chair across from you.  Wait for the rest of the Earth to follow suit and fall to ashes.

[starryace]

my personal introduction to vav

so i have a few friends who’ve been wanting to get into vav but dunno where to start so... i’ll just do this lil thing. obviously there’s gonna be my own opinions so don’t take everything i say to heart but like... here we go

vav (very awesome voice -- pronounced vee-ay-vee but i say vav bc im lazy) debuted in 2015, but when they debuted they had a different lineup. zehan, xiao, and gyeoul all left to pursue other activities. ziu, lou, and ayno joined the group in 2017! the fandom is called vampz because of the groups original concept but we don’t talk about that

title tracks/mvs: *under the moonlight | *brotherhood | *no doubt | *here i am | venus (dance with me) | flower (you) | abc (middle of the night) | she’s mine | spotlight | gorgeous | give it to me | senorita | **so in love | **thrilla killa | **i’m sorry | give me more

* = pre-line up switch! | ** = without jacob (due to his participation in a chinese program)

more about the members under the cut!

st van (lee geumhyuk)

note: during updating i ended up having to redo this entire section bc my computer deleted it all... sigh.

everyone’s dad

kinda gives off party vibes, like a cool club dad, you know?

super duper soft :(( he laughs at everything and he loves gentle things and he may be the oldest but he’s babie

gets really embarrassed really easily and blushes and laughs it off

oh! he also laughs with like... his entire body ekhrbgj

tattoos! on his shoulder and right arm

full sleeve completed

self composed the track “im sorry” off of the thrilla killa album

he lived in china for 13+ years and can speak fluent (if not, almost fluent) chinese

he’s super good cook and he wanted to be a chef before becoming an idol

loves jacob :(( with all his heart

weird but he can drink a lot of water really quickly, that’s his special talent

got a dog with the group! her name is cash and she’s super cute

im sure there’s more but i got mad after my computer deleted everything so i’ll get back to updating this part when things dawn on me

baron (choi chunghyeop)

dancer extraordinaire! he actually used to be in a dance team before vav

smiley boy ;;;; literally he has the prettiest smile and the nicest teeth

he can play the piano and a lil guitar im p sure!

he’s honestly a lil shit but we love him anyway

he’s very mom like, and loves taking care of the members, but i spy with my lil eye someone a lil more mom-like but that comes later

he choreographed a cover of shape of you!

unfortunately, his mom passed away early this year (may she rest in peace).

his nickname is baby prince (from his mom) and it was because of his mom that he was able to become and idol

baron singing??? yes,,, yeS!! his voice is godsent istg

he loves loves loves music and dance

wont shut up about millennium dance studio

was the pizza delivery boy in minx’s why did you come to my home

has a very intensive skin care routine

he!! loves!! food!! constantly nomming

ace (jang wooyoung)

remember how i said how i thought there was someone more mom like? meet ace.

literally babies everyone

eSPECIALLY ayno + ziu (sometimes lou, when lou will let him)

sassy, diva, can also be a lil shit -- esp with baron... 92 line is just lil shit line

lil fucking tease, too--

he has an oral fixation-- licks his lips a lot no bueno for me

teal hair? god tier. senorita? also god tier. everything about him? god tier.

plays the guitar... see senorita

“you’re doing wonderful sweetie” but like... a living version of that

abs... abs for days..........

works out with jacob

dimples!! but it’s more prominent on the right cheek.

god he’s??? literally ethereal. like i can’t put into words how pretty he is

he ;;;; has the purest, most sweetest heart

they need to start letting ace have more lines bc omg his voice ;;;;;

really good with kids ;;;;; they love him

he’s a BIG flirt, it’s like when he opens his mouth the only thing he thinks to do is say “i love you” or “you’re mine” or smthn

Prince Wooyoung™

ayno (noh yoonho)

was on no.mercy -- still kinda keeps in contact with monsta x now (hims was lil babie minhyuk)

yknow how baron is dancer? so is ayno -- aYNO IS GOD TIER DANCER ok he ;;;;; ugh he’s literally so talented

he raps too! also god tier

hims a soundcloud rapper -- dropped zero coke (mixtape) and god that boy is talented

self composed their song touch you (aka one of my fave vav songs)

ace’s baby... really, he’s vav’s baby, but still

fake maknae to the max. it still baffles me that he’s older than the others ima list

hims also pretty shy, but it’s real cute ;;;;

lou has such a big fat crush on him and he’s always embarrassed by it

he zones out a lot and is very mellow & quiet until something inside him switches and then he’s like BAM loud and crackhead

ziu.... brings out... the crackhead in him lbr

former happyface ent trainee w/ ziu

puppy!

also really good with kids!! prolly bc he is a big kid himself erhbjeg

often writes his own raps for songs

jacob (zhang peng)

resting bitch face to the max

800% done with everyone’s shit

chinese member!

he was performing in a chinese show called all for one -- his team got eliminated (sad) but that means he’ll be returning to the group (happy!)

that’s why he wasn’t in so in love/thrilla killa/im sorry

hims loves his st van

he also eats... a lot.

ok but like... he works out with ace, right? boy has such chiseled and nicely defined abs, it pains me

he’s a happy lil sunshine boy

savage as fuck

his smile literally adds 5 years to your lifespan

all of the members miss him so much ;;;; its honestly super wholesome and every once in a while they’ll be like “omg cobi would love this” or “jacob....... we miss you”

but then you have shithead lou being like “i mean... its nice having the room to myself” wrehbjehg

he dance too! idk what type of dancing it is but he does it!!!

he was in the chinese movie “the dreamer on the catwalk”

BRING HIM BACK ATEAM PLS I MISS HIMS

HE HAS RETURNED AND HE’S STRONGER THAN EVER

lou (kim hosung)

my #1, my one and only, my precious sweetheart

tall as fUCK

has a deep ass motherfucking voice

grew up in georgia as a kid (can speak fluent english) and then the philippines when he was a teen!

kinda the more quiet & reserved member

but dont let that fool you......

he too is a lil shit

AND A CHAOTIC GAY -- ziu bothers him a lot but he has a big ol’ crush on ayno and he never shuts up about how pretty he is and how much he loves him

he can be a grouchy lil bitch too tho hkerbjeg

in this interview baron and st van were being cute and he’s just in the corner like “youuuu shouuuld daaaate” -- gay. in the same interview thats one instance where he wouldn’t shut up about ayno

hims a rapper too!! he often writes his own raps for songs (much like ayno)

his own mixtape (goodnight) literally is so nice i listen to it all the time

he has a vlive thing he does called lou-dio and it’s real cute

big ears = the cutest thing ever ehkrbgjeh

he collects a bunch of stuff!! like pop figures and toys, like souvenirs from everywhere they go

he was in the youtube webdrama “lemon car video” (eps 1, 3, 7, and 8)

his stage name is lou (pronounced “low” but i refuse to say that) because his voice is so low

ziu (park heejun)

chaotic. just chaotic. chaotic gay, chaotic maknae, chaotic man.

he’s the real maknae tho... doesn’t look it, huh?

manly af

literally so charismatic and funny as hell

wants kisses + love + attention from everyone

goes in for a kiss -- everyone else usually backs away but he’s always disappointed that no one gives into him

kisses kisses kisses

did i mention kisses?

he makes a lot of random ass noises all the time

screm... lots of screm. like you know opossums?? think that kinda screm.

his vocals ;;;;; his singing voice is so, so nice ;;; i adore it.

his room is dirty af i could NEVER

he does some really questionable things sometimes... see here.

like i said, i cannot express this enough... he’s so charismatic. so charming. so handsome.

also!! super hyper fluff ball. hims cute.

aegyo up the wazoo too

former happyface ent trainee with ayno

was in the fri.sat.sun teasers by dalshabet

can get p loud & annoying but that doesnt change how much we love him

idk if any of that made sense... but there you go! there’s so much more to vav and everything they do and who they are, so i hope this just kinda gets more people to look into them? it’s a stepping stone, not everything possible to learn.

+ keep in mind, a lot of this stuff comes from both kprofiles, what i’ve seen in videos, and my own personal opinions & inputs. so... yeah. don’t use what i say as truth/fact unless you see stuff to back it up (or you adopt it as your own opinion idk).

thank you for taking your time to read this!!

[kainosite]

Les Misérables 2018, Episode 3

Les Mis fandom: Andrew Davies is a scoundrel.  What is he?

Me: ... Scoundwel.

The Good:

• I can’t believe the BBC actually filmed the “Now the people of this town can see you for what you really are” scene of a thousand Valvert fanfics.  They know what the people want.

• The Thénardiers are still fantastic.  Somehow the BBC has achieved the impossible feat of portraying them as loathsome abusers whom you hate with every fiber of your being, while simultaneously making them the fun comic relief you’re sort of rooting for in their capacity as the wacky crime duo.  On Christmas Eve I wanted the Seargeant of Waterloo to burn to the ground with everyone inside it, except for Cosette who was out getting water, Éponine and Azelma who were playing on the swings and Gavroche who was out back playing with Chou Chou or something.  I still grinned when Madame Thénardier cheerily reminded her husband to bring the pistol the next morning.  Striking this balance is a truly impressive achievement that I’ve only seen equalled by the Dallas production of the musical.

Their family dynamics are also coming across very well, sometimes through very subtle touches.  The differential treatment of Éponine and Azelma vs. Cosette and the way the Thénardier girls have been trained by all the adults around them to see Cosette’s abuse as a hilarious game, Gavroche being conscripted to fill Cosette’s role as household drudge once Valjean takes her, Mme. T slipping a bill out of Thénardier’s stash once he goes after Valjean – it’s all really good.

Their reactions to Valjean were good too.  Mme. Thénardier was thoroughly unimpressed with this roughly dressed man she’d decided was a hobo and only reacted with hostility when he was kind to her little whipping girl, but Thénardier as the criminal mastermind of the outfit decided the moment he noticed Valjean paying inordinate attention to Cosette that he must be a pedophile and they’d stumbled upon a lucrative financial opportunity.  I know some people don’t like this change, but honestly it makes a ton of sense.  Valjean’s interest in Cosette is strange, and considering the usual clientele of the inn cheer whenever Mme. T hits the kid with the strap, the Thénardiers aren’t used to seeing other people regard her plight with compassion.  Unlike in the Brick, this Cosette is a very pretty child, something discernible even beneath the dirt.  And it’s Thénardier, so of course he thinks the worst.  Valjean doesn’t volunteer that he’s representing Fantine (perhaps in this universe where he knows Javert is so fixated on him, he’s worried that would make him too easy to trace?), so really, what else is Thénardier meant to think?

• There are some priceless interactions between the protagonists and Thénardier: when he’s trying to haggle and Valjean keeps ignoring him and just repeating “How much?”; Javert’s baffled “Nothing!” when he asks Javert what Javert is planning to do for him.

• Javert and Gavroche’s preliminary encounter over the coffee cup was a nice, subtle touch.

• A+ hair analogy between Fantine last week and Valjean this week.  A+ removal of the godawful ponytail.  That prison barber in Toulon deserves the Légion d'Honneur.

• I’m enjoying Javert’s meteoric rise at the Prefecture and I love Rivette.  “But Kainosite, you love every long-suffering lieutenant.”  Yes, what’s your point?  Javert deserves a long-suffering lieutenant and so do I.  Although it’s hilarious how much Oyelowovert is Fanfic Javert, in his relationship with his subordinates as much as in everything else.

I also enjoyed Javert’s phrenology skull, which I hope he sometimes monologues at Hamlet-style.  A black Javert might hesitate a little before going all-in on phrenology, but I do appreciate his commitment to cutting-edge criminology research.

• LMAO at Javert’s fanart commission.

• Valjean and little Cosette are adorable together, and I really appreciate how much time Davies devoted to just depicting them interacting and letting the relationship breathe.  The strength of their bond is going to be very important later on, especially to Valjean, so it’s worthwhile to establish it now.  And they were suuuuper cute.  This adaptation tends to cut out Hugo’s humor sections, so it was nice to get a bit of relief from the grimness with endearing family time.

• I rather like Cosette calling people “nosy bitches”.  I mean, who socialized this kid?  The Thénardiers, that’s who.  It makes her seem more like a real child and less like a perfect little doll designed to reward first Valjean and then Marius for fulfilling their roles as protagonists.

It’s also an early hint at Valjean and Cosette’s unhealthy isolation and codependency.  The principal tenant is actually fulfilling her duty of care here in a society without any proper system for child safeguarding.  Cosette never seems to leave the apartment, certainly not to attend school or to learn a trade.  There’s no family resemblance between herself and her guardian.  (Incidentally, I’m impressed by how much Mailow Defoy really does look like the child of Lily Collins and Johnny Flynn.  All the matching between the kids and their “parents” has been superb.)  They give inconsistent stories about their relationship.  And Cosette is, as previously mentioned, an exceptionally pretty child.  The principal tenant should be worried - she doesn’t want Hector Hulot taking up residence in her building, and this pair are deeply suspicious.  But they can’t perceive her attention as legitimate concern, just as an unwarranted and unwanted intrusion into their little idyl.

• Similarly, Valjean’s early worries that he’s isolating Cosette too much by denying her all contact with the outside world or other children her own age are a nice piece of foreshadowing, as is her blithe answer that the only friends she needs are Valjean and Catherine.  Of course she’s content: she has food and warmth and security and the undivided attention of a loving adult.  To a child whose previous experience of the world has been so traumatic, their isolation must seem like paradise.  But this isn’t healthy and it isn’t sustainable, and the show is flagging that up early.  In many adaptations Valjean’s Cosette Issues seem to come out of nowhere, so it’s great that they’re laying the groundwork here.

• The whole “For a dark hunt, a silent pack” sequence is very well done.  There’s a nice piece of foreshadowing with the lamplighter hoisting up a candle as Valjean and Cosette are coming into Paris.  (Most of the Parisian lamps are nice flickery ones, although you do occasionally see those peculiar white ones we saw in Montreuil.)

I also appreciate Davies cutting Valjean’s canonical “Be quiet or Mme. Thénardier will catch you and take you back” line to Cosette from the Brick, which was an awful thing to say to a traumatized child.

• Things continue to look right.  The courtroom setup was really quite good.

The Meh:

• After watching the episode twice I think I finally understand what was going on with Javert at the trial.

His plan to entrap Valjean is no less incredibly stupid and risky than it was last week, but at least Javert has finally realized this.  He looks increasingly worried as each convict gives his testimony and identifies Champmathieu because they’re getting closer and closer to the end of the trial and Valjean still hasn’t acted.  Unlike Étienne in the 1952 movie, Oyelowovert has already testified and perjured himself, so he has no failsafe – if Valjean refuses to take the bait then Champmathieu is condemned in his place, the real Valjean is protected from legal pursuit forever, Javert’s perjury has real, long-term, perverse consequences, and Javert needs to find a new career.  The shock we see on his face when Valjean finally confesses is relief and the shock of seeing a scenario he must have played out a hundred times in his dreams becoming a reality before his eyes, or possibly a consequence of him coming in his pants, not shock at the revelation that Madeleine is Valjean.

But there are few members of the audience who are keener observers of Javert’s face than I am.  Most of those people are probably in the Valvert Discord chat, and none of them could figure out this scene on their first viewing either.  We should not have to analyze Javert’s microexpressions to determine the answer to a question as fundamental as “Did Javert sincerely believe Champmathieu was Valjean?”

• On the whole the trial was bad but I did appreciate Brevet just yanking out his suspender to show the court.  Although @prudencepaccard​ is gonna be mad it wasn’t checkered.

• The amount of time it takes Valjean to escape from Toulon is really of no great importance to anything.  Maybe this Javert gave them specific instructions to search him with care so his files kept getting confiscated and it took him longer to file through his chains.  We know the Orion incident never happened in this universe, so maybe it took two years for Valjean to spot a good escape opportunity.  Who knows?  Who cares?  It has zero impact on the plot.

People concerned about the extra time Cosette was left languishing with the Thénardiers should direct their complaints to Brick Valjean, who faffed around in Montreuil for a month while her mother lay on her deathbed constantly asking for her, and only decided to go pick her up once he was under arrest and it would obviously be impossible.  Davies’ sins pale in comparison to Hugo’s in this regard.  At least Westjean tried to send someone to retrieve her.

• ‘Rosalie’?  Okay, fine, but I’m not sure why this adaptation feels compelled to give everyone first and last names.  Thénardier could just call her ‘Darling’.

• I know they also abandon Catherine in the Brick, but in the Brick Valjean doesn’t pause in their flight to pack the candlesticks, the objects that are precious to him, and Cosette doesn’t specifically ask about bringing her.  Put the pillow under the blankets to fake out Javert like a normal person and let your child keep the one toy she’s ever had, what the fuck is wrong with you, Valjean?

On the other hand, the doll is made of dead people and it may be possessed, so perhaps this was just responsible parenting.  I’m calling it a draw.

• It’s not that I have any great objections to giving Simplice more screen time or letting the Mother Superior of the Petit-Picpus convent decide to shelter a convict, but there was no particular reason not to use Fauchelevent for the Fauchelevent plotline.  It’s a small instance of a good deed being paid forward that underlines the main theme of the book, as does Simplice’s act of self-sacrifice in lying to Javert to protect Valjean.  All of that has been lost and nothing has been gained in its place.  (Also is Cosette just... “Cosette Valjean” in this adaptation?  “Cosette Thibault”?)

The Bad:

• If Javert perjures himself to trap Valjean that is an incredibly big deal and we should see it.  I accept that this Javert might do it: Oyelowovert cares about his career and about ruining the lives of criminals, not about the rules.  If he can trap Valjean, superb.  If Champmathieu ends up in the galleys because of it, well, he’s a filthy apple thief and he deserves it.  Javert is subverting the course of justice in the service of a greater social justice.  But this monumental deviation from his Brick characterization, this enormously consequential lie, should not occur off-camera, for fuck’s sake!

Also it’s not clear what reason a Javert who is happy to lie under oath would ever have to throw himself into the Seine.

• Why the hell was Valjean so hostile to the other convicts?  He assumes they’ve been paid off, but... by whom, and to what purpose?  By Javert, to entrap him?  We the viewers at least know that can’t be true – Javert only found out about Champmathieu from the Prefecture, after Champmathieu had already been identified as Valjean.  By the public prosecutor at Arras, who is desperate to close the case of a minor highway robbery that happened almost a decade ago on the other side of the country completely outside his jurisdiction?  By the many enemies of Champmathieu the random hobo, who really want to see him go down for a felony?  It makes absolutely no sense.

Possibilities that make more sense: a) the convicts are sincerely mistaken about the appearance of a guy they’ve not seen in eight years, b) they just wanted to get out of Toulon for a month and they’re willing to say anything to do it because Toulon is a hellhole, as the first episode made exceedingly clear, c) they know perfectly well Champmathieu is not Valjean and they’re lying to protect the liberty of their old comrade by condemning a stranger in his place.  The whole dynamic of this scene – Madeleine, the respected mayor and factory owner, who’s been clean and well-fed and safe for years, yelling at these filthy men in their convict uniforms, Chenildieu with some kind of open wound across his forehead, quite possibly a lash mark – is deeply unpleasant.  It makes Valjean look like a complete asshole and sets a sour tone for the whole episode.

• The entire trial is just off.  Valjean’s off-putting and inexplicable hostility to his fellow convicts, Javert’s mystifying facial expressions, the audience who keep laughing at unfunny lines – the scene just doesn’t work, it doesn’t come together.  It was at something of a disadvantage because I came into it having just watched the 1952 trial scene for the previous episode’s review post, which is the best ever adaptation of the Champmathieu trial, and any other version was likely to pale by comparison.  But this one was particularly poor.

• I said last week we’d have to see what the series made of Valjean’s externalization of his emotions.  Well, what it has made is an awful lot of shouting at everyone, starting with the poor convicts and continuing from there, and also an excess of violence.  Valjean charges into the soldiers in Montreuil-sur-Mer and bowls them over, he threatens to knock Thénardier down and then to blow his head off, he gets Thénardier into a headlock and grapples with him.  Even when Westjean is coming into the convent he has to practically break down the doors.  Everything is violent action with him.  It’s OOC to the point where it’s becoming a problem rather than merely a different interpretation of the character.

All this aggression isn’t even effective at making him seem dangerous!  The thing he does in 1978 where he gently removes Javert’s hand from his collar is vastly more intimidating because it showcases his superhuman strength.  He should have just plucked the gun out of Thénardier’s hand like he was taking it away from a child instead of all this undignified scuffling.

• Tumblr, a humble reviewer has failed in accuracy, and I have come to bring this matter to your attention, as is my duty.

I argued last week that Westjean is not a misogynist: he yells at everyone in his vicinity regardless of gender.  Well, you were right and I was wrong.  That menacing lunge he takes towards Victurnien while screaming at her, calling Mme. Thénardier “woman” and shouting at her to bring his supper, the way he bursts in on the nuns at the end – it all adds up to something pretty unpleasant.

• I have never in my life seen an adaptation that makes Fantine’s death so much about Jean Valjean’s manpain.

If you look a 1978, an adaptation that gives if possible negative fucks about Fantine, it still manages to make the confrontation over her deathbed a conversation between three people, in which she has agency and reacts to what people are saying and is present in some capacity other than that of an object to make Valjean sad.  Someone compared Collinstine to a substitute Coin of Shame, and I think that’s really apt: Valjean is distressed and guilty because he’s failed to rescue Cosette, so he goes to Fantine’s bedside to sear the image of her despairing face onto his retinas in the same way he seared the imprint of Petit Gervais’s forty sous onto his palm.  He’s punishing himself by deliberately upsetting her.  For both Valjean and the camera, this scene is all about Valjean’s feelings and not about Fantine’s.

The person in this room with the biggest problems is not Jean Valjean, for pity’s sake.  I like to see the man cry as much as the next fangirl, but this was vile.

• Valjean’s visit to Fantine on her deathbed is a stupid, irresponsible thing to do and a direct cause of her unhappy death in the Brick and in every adaptation where she survives long enough for Javert to turn up. Valjean knows he has no good news to give her, he knows that the criminal justice system will be after him sooner or later, he knows that having Fantine and Javert together in the same room is a phenomenally bad idea, and he has urgent business in Montfermeil, or if he’s resolved to stay in Montreuil-sur-Mer to await arrest then he urgently needs to designate some representative to go and pick up Cosette in his place.  Instead he loiters by a sick woman’s bedside until Javert shows up and predictably traumatizes her to death.  As a result, Fantine dies in misery and Cosette suffers under the Thénardiers for another year.

But in the Brick it was at least not an insane thing to do.  When he left Arras he was not being pursued, and he reached Montreuil well ahead of the news about the trial.  The magistrates in Arras were in two minds about how to handle the situation.  Given Madeleine’s status, the widespread affection and admiration for him in the region, and the fact that he turned himself in, it’s not inconceivable that had it not been for his little Bonapartist slip in the courtroom, they wouldn’t have issued a warrant for his arrest at all and would simply have sent him a summons to appear at the Var Assizes to stand trial, or directed him to surrender himself at the prison in Montreuil rather than sending Javert after him.  I’m not sure it’s likely, given that he’s a known flight risk and parole violator illegally occupying a public office and they seem keen to get their hands on his fortune, but it’s not inconceivable.

In this adaptation Valjean breaks away from the police in the street and leads them straight to Fantine’s deathbed.  There is no fucking excuse for this.  NONE.  Brick Valjean was a fool to come at all and a bigger fool to stage a massive confrontation with Javert while he was still in the infirmary, but his mistakes were those of a man under immense stress who never bothered to think about Javert long enough to construct a working psychological profile of him.  Westjean’s mistakes were the mistakes of a selfish asshole too caught up in his own feelings of guilt and shame to have any regard for the people he allegedly cares about and wants to help.  Valjean is an extreme deontologist and his actions are always self-absorbed to a certain degree, because they’re fundamentally more about whether he can feel he’s done the right thing than about the actual effects of his actions on other people.  (He and Brickvert have that in common.)  But it should never get to the point where he’s actively harming people to this extent.

• Brickvert doesn’t seem to care for firearms much, and Oyelowovert looks like a jackass waving his two giant pistols around, but he’s a different character and if he’s decided they make him look cool then fine, I guess.  But in that case he should not be intimidated by Valjean’s strength in the infirmary.  You have guns, idiot!  If he threatens you just shoot him in the leg!

Guns completely change the dynamics of this scene, as the Dallas staging of the musical conveys very well.  The BBC handed Javert some pistols and then forgot he had them.

• In 1862 people would probably have found the implication that Catherine has Fantine’s hair to be sweet and charming, because the Victorians loved toting bits of their dead relatives around and hair mementos were so common that no one would have considered it weird.  In 2019 it is CREEPY AND GROSS.  I know there’s no ethical consumption under capitalism but we did not need to know that Cosette’s doll was made from the body parts of desperately impoverished and now dead women, really.

• Oh, so we’re flipping over beds when we fail to catch our favorite fugitive convict now, are we?  Great, now everyone is yelling.  FFS, Javert, I thought you were supposed to be the emotionally continent one.

• Where was Marius this week???  If Davies was happy to cut that leg of the stool out of whole episodes then why the fuck not just let Georges die when he’s supposed to and let Marius have a coherent character arc?  It makes no sense whatsoever.

I’ve got to be honest, I was not a fan of this episode.  But it did get Valjean and Cosette’s relationship right, and that is the most important relationship in the story.

[trippydooda]

 have no excuse _(:3 ¬∠)_

psst it’s another blurb that will be part of a bigger fic

Fandom: BTS

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung

Rating: T (full fic is gunna be E /sweats)

Word Count: 1,019

“Well hello again,” a sinister voice says, and Taehyung doesn’t even have to look up to know who it is. “Did you miss me?” It coos.

Yet Taehyung flinches all the same, slowly turning to see none other than Jungkook perched innocently on a boulder protruding from the sea. He has a lopsided smirk that exposes one of his canines, his wings fluttering slightly. Taehyung frowns at it all. “What do you want?” He asks, trying his best to seem threatening. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Am I not allowed to visit my pretty little merman?”

“No,” Taehyung replies instantly. Jungkook frowns down at him, and Taehyung refuses to acknowledge that it could be both cute and turns him on at the same time. He really hates demons.

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Jungkook says, and it sounds sincere enough, but at this point Taehyung has gathered the sense to not trust demons.

He scoffs at the remark, turning back around and crossing his arms across his chest even though Jungkook can’t see him. The tepid sea water splashes around him in soft waves, and he refuses to consider it relaxing. Falling for Jungkook’s charm is how he got in this mess in the first place, and he wasn’t about to play games with such a cocky demon. It’s not his fault he got captivated by such a small waist, thick thighs, and intoxicating smile. It wasn’t his fault either that his drink got spiked, that he got consumed with the need to touch just by breathing in Jungkook’s scent. It really wasn’t.

“You can’t get mad at me,” Jungkook pipes from behind Taehyung. “I gave you what you wanted, did I not?”

Taehyung huffs but still doesn’t turn. “You didn’t give me shit,” he says to the sea. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

In a flash Jungkook appears in front of him, flying in place as he sits criss crossed. He has his hands folded in his lap and is actually pouting, ridiculous tail curling around one of his legs. It was all so ridiculous, Taehyhung really just wants out of it. “Taehyung,” Jungkook whines, “I thought you were supposed to be fun.”

With narrowed eyes Taehyung replies easily, “And I thought you were just a normal dude, Jungkook.”

Because he was a little shit, Jungkook smiles bright. “Ah, there’s that spark.” Taehyung hates that he blushes, and Jungkook must notice because he situates himself so he’s laying down (still floating, which baffles Taehyung still, despite the fact that he has a fish tail), hands propped under his chin. He cocks his head to the side as he whispers, “You can’t deny we had fun that night. Not with the way you were moaning underneath me. I still can smell you on my—”

He’s cut off by Taehyung splashing him, knocking off his balance and plunging him into the sea. It makes Taehyung grin, probably wider than Jungkook’s had been. And yet he knows his face must be bright red, and he hates that Jungkook is right—he hasn’t forgotten about being tangled with Jungkook, rushed kisses at his neck and desperate thrusts rippling through him. Like fuck he’s going to show it though. “There’s no one here, I don’t know why you’re bothering to whisper,” he says quickly as Jungkook manages to fly back up, but he’s absolutely soaked. 

Turns out plummeting Jungkook into water has done him no favours. His hair is slicked back, droplets of water ever so slowly running down his bare chest, because apparently demons have no common decency to wear shirts. Even his leather—yes, leather—pants grip him tighter, and Taehyung breathes in sharply, turning his head to the side. Jungkook catches on. “This is not the time to be shy,” he laughs, “After all, you were the one to point out that no one is here. In fact—”he leans down, clawed fingertip dragging over Taehyung’s shoulder—“I think I like your little revelation.”

Taehyung doesn’t get to question it before Jungkook wraps his arms around Taehyung, hand ever so softly wrapping around his neck. He presses his nose into Taehyung’s neck, just lightly mouthing over a bit of skin there. The sensation makes Taehyung shiver, and would certainly do something to his dick if he still had it. “Just because you have a fish tail doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun,” Jungkook says sweetly into Taehyung’s neck. He opens his mouth to take just the smallest bit of skin in his teeth, biting down. Taehyung hates that for one, he doesn’t stop it, and two, he actually leans into it.

It invites Jungkook to continue, hand on Taehyung’s neck gripping harder, kisses becoming rougher, and Taehyung bites down his lip to not make any noise. He’s not even sure why he’s letting Jungkook do this, but he supposes it’s because he now has some sort of tie to the idiotic demon, what with curses and the like. He still doesn’t even know how it works, but it matters little with the way Jungkook is holding him, the way he’s biting his neck, the way he turns him to bite at his jaw and trail kisses until their lips meet, and shit. Taehyung can’t help but sigh into the sensation of Jungkook’s perfect lips pressed on his own, can’t help the way he loves how Jungkook knows already what he likes, and it’s only when he starts to kiss back that he comes to his senses. 

He pushes Jungkook away, choosing to stare down at the sea again than meet his eyes. “You’re annoying,” he says, but he knows it doesn’t sound threatening at all. 

“And you’re beautiful,” Jungkook replies, tucking Taehyung’s hair behind his ear.

“Shut up,” Taehyung retorts, finally looking up to meet Jungkook’s eyes. And it’s there, that glint of sincerity, that glow of softness that led Taehyung into this mess in the first place. It’s the same exact face that Taehyung had seen across the bar, and the same touch that Taehyung foolishly believed was only meant for him.

Taehyung really hates demons.

[veky1993]

Caught - MC one-shot no.2

This was supposed to be part of a series of one-shots in which Sharon’s ogling Andy (hence the title up there), but it mysteriously turned into a Provenza point of view story. Although as most of those following me from the MC fandom know, I am a total sucker for the Sharon/Provenza friendship, so maybe it ain’t all that mysterious after all. In any case, it’s nothing much, just what we all know to be true with a dash of sentimental/sarcastic Provie. 

I wrote this WEEEEEEKS ago and never got around to proofreading or anything because *groans* LIFE! For the same reason @escapewithstories didn’t beta it either, or read at all for that matter *gulps*, but I hope you guys’ll enjoy it anyway, more warts than usual and all.

With one of my favorite Provenza/Sharon moments giffed below (LOOK AROUND, LOUIE 😍), I’ll let you get to it then. 😊

Louie Provenza liked weddings. He married six times, it wasn’t that unbelievable a fact about him. However, he was very partial to this wedding, a fact made very much unbelievable seeing as half of the blissful couple was made up of none other than the intrepid Commander Sharon Raydor.

He’d wondered about her a lot lately. Since his partner got thrown off that car, in particularly. How it was that he didn’t mind this strange match as much as he had when his idiot of a friend first started calling the woman ‘Sharon’. How it was that he agreed to being the best man without even a fleeting thought. How it was that he was truly, genuinely happy for them.

He liked Sharon, that was probably why. He had come to a point where he might as readily step in front of a bullet for her as he would for his partner. Part of him was pissed at himself for allowing her to win him over quite so spectacularly, but dammit, the woman had a heart the size of a planet, so what was truly wondrous was that it had taken him, and really the entire team, so long to realize she wasn’t just the cold-hearted bitch who smacked them over their heads with her rulebook and sent them to sensitivity training they thought she was. He’ll make sure neither she nor her, he grinned involuntarily, husband ever heard this, but she was pretty damn amazing, her annoying rulebook included.

And Andy… well, Andy came to that conclusion a hell of a lot sooner than him, and he had to give the man credit. It took balls not just to admit to himself how hard he fell for her, but to actually do something about it, too.

Oh, he’d rolled his eyes at his dopey-smiled and puppy-eyed partner so many times even before that fateful first date, it was a wonder they hadn’t gotten stuck facing the inside of his skull. He’d been a goner already. That much was obvious. But Provenza worried. In all the years he’d known Andy, never once had he been taken with a woman quite as much as with the then Captain Raydor. It was unnerving.

He’d been skeptical about it, that day Andy told him he’d ask her out on an ‘honest-to-God date’, but he had no real say in the matter. He could only hope it wouldn’t blow up in all their faces. He also figured Sharon would be the more level-headed of the two. If what little reciprocating affection he picked up on from her side wasn’t quite enough to turn whatever the hell was going on between them into something more, and if his partner really had gone insane, she’d nip any other ideas of his in the bud by flat out refusing the date, and spelling the lines out for him if necessary. It gave him comfort knowing Sharon wouldn’t be leading him on. Whatever happened or didn’t happen between them, it would be done directly, straight to the point. If it ended up hurting Andy, at least it would be done quickly, and delicately enough.

But then the damn woman said yes.

But then his damn partner remained tight-lipped about that date.

The kid played obtuse, too.

But then it was suddenly official.

And God dammit. It freakin’ worked.

They freakin’ work.

And just like that he had two dopey-smiled and puppy-eyed idiots on his hands (not that he’d ever dare tell Sharon she was an idiot of any kind, he was no fool). Oh, she was much less obvious about it. So very discreet in fact, that if he didn’t know what to look for, he might have even missed the subtle changes that followed their notifying Taylor. The flirty looks thrown across the murder room when she didn’t think or didn’t know anyone else was watching. The casual touches that were miles away from inappropriate but that were notably absent prior to their change in relationship status. The held gazes of a private, silent conversation nobody but them heard. His partner’s occasional remarks that only she found worthy of a smile. He noticed alright.

They both still remained tight-lipped about it though.

Yes, eventually they were all privy to some hand-holding, or a hug, but it was still all so very on the down low, and his partner just kept falling harder and harder for her, that he started worrying again. He didn’t exactly doubt her investment in the relationship. He knew very well by then that Sharon did nothing half-heartedly, and honestly, he was more than fine with not seeing them being all lovey-dovey, and he kind of liked the way Andy loosened her up a little—she was quicker to flash a smile, crack a joke—but he still thought there was this question mark surrounding them. He was aware that Rusty was giving them a hard time in the beginning, but there was a tentativeness that lingered around them and which completely baffled him.

But then his idiot partner got thrown off a car, and the question mark morphed into a flashing neon light, boulevard banner sized exclamation point.

The damn woman was a goner, too.

If there was even a sliver of concern left that his partner could end up getting hurt in this dating-the-boss madness, it was effectively eradicated around the time of Andy’s first of many hospital stays. Not at the sight of her watching teary eyed and near trembling as he was wheeled off to surgery that Thanksgiving. No, he finally saw it in the poorly concealed, but absolute terror in her eyes as he ushered her to the elevator and sent her to the hospital Andy had landed in when he cracked her bathroom floor tiles. On second thought… He knew it when they’d returned to the murder room that day without Andy in tow with them, and he found himself lying his ass off to her alarmed self, downplaying the severity of Andy’s incident as her questions grew more suspicious and her demeanor more worried.

He’d seen her worried plenty. About Rusty. About Julio. About Amy. About all of them. He’d seen her scared, too. But then Andy had that heart attack, and he saw an altogether different, equally as heart stopping, form of terror in her. It was the first time his concern for her trumped the one for his partner, and he was pretty damn terrified that night for him as well. Later, when they had been reunited, Andy still alive and kicking, he cursed them both. He never signed up for that. For caring so much about them. Certainly not about them… together.

Yet here they were. At their wedding.

Not one bit of him minded.

She stood across the room, in her wedding dress, in a conversation with her sons. In a one-sided conversation with her sons, actually.

Oh, she nodded, and smiled in all the right places, he could tell, but her focus lay on a spot behind her two children, where her freshly anointed husband was twirling around the room with a ballerina.

There was a softness in her look. It wasn’t the kind he was used to seeing around Rusty. Or the ballerina and the boy with the ridiculous haircut. Or around victims and tragic perpetrators that walked through their murder room. It was an altogether different sort of softness. One he hadn’t seen even during all the hours he’d spent in hospital with her holding vigil over his cardio-challenged partner.

It was love, adoration, infatuation, and maybe even a dash of amusement all rolled into one that he saw in that softness. She practically radiated happiness. Whatever it really was, he decided it looked good on her. It made him happy, too.

He was thoroughly thrown, however, when he noted her upper teeth grazing her bottom lip in a slow, absent-minded yet intent-loaded manner. He grimaced instantly. That look he understood immediately. He shuddered, earning himself a surprised little raise of an eyebrow from his own wife. Studiously ignoring her, he took a sip of his drink to wash away the disturbing image, but as he did, Sharon glanced his way.

Of course, she glanced his way.

The look they shared said it all. He’d caught her, and she sure as hell knew that he did.

But then she innocently shrugged a single shoulder. Her lip curled into a devious little smile he knew better than to pick a fight with, and she wagged a perfect eyebrow at him. The expression clashed rather violently with the angelic white of her dress, taunting him. She didn’t care. Could he blame her? Something on his mind, Louie?

He shook his head. Short of yelling there was nothing he could say that she could hear anyway, but he rolled his eyes, very dramatically, then feigned another disgusted shudder before contorting his features into foul displeasure.

Her responding bubble of a laugh carried to him from across the room.

The sound startled her sons, and she was quick to pacify them, but it also caught his partner’s attention, and when one of those dopey smiles instantly appeared on his face, Provenza ducked his head and grinned, too.

There were worse admissions in life than this one, he decided as he offered his wife a hand and a dance—his own wedding aside, this one was his favorite yet.

How could it not be?

It involved Sharon Raydor.

[impala-imagines]

Trapped

Fandom: Criminal minds Prompt: Can you do a one shot where the reader is attracted to Derek Morgan and he is to her, but she’s worried about his reputation because of the way he talks to woman and attracts them. Word Count: 1,308 Character: Derek Morgan Reader Gender: Female Warnings: Kissing leads to touching, that is about it.  Author note: Enjoy!

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“Derek, Derek stop it!” You shouted as he started to push the call button again and again. “Derek, I said stop it and listen for a minute!” Grabbing his hand, the pair of you stood in silence as you heard the fire alarm ringing. “Call Hotch.” You uttered looking toward the doors. “Derek, call Hotch.” You looked over at him as he reached for the call button. “On your cell phone!” Derek nodded softly and made the call as you moved to lean against the wall. This couldn’t be happening, not after what had happened only ten minutes prior.

You had been working with the BAU for the last three months, you weren’t a profiler, you’d taken over as press liaison while JJ was on maternity leave. Since you’d been with the team Derek had taken a shine to you and didn’t seem to waste any time asking you out. However, the way he chatted to Garcia and the way he was with other ladies out of work, it just made you not able to trust him. You’d been burnt too many times in the past and the idea of willingly opening up to let yourself get hurt sounded ridiculous.

You’d started to avoid Derek after he’d asked you out for the sixth time, he was persistent that was for and while you were so attracted to him and you were sure that he knew that, you just couldn’t let yourself fall again. There was no way you could let yourself get burned when there were still embers from the previous relationship burning you each day. You constantly teamed up with Spence, or Rossi when you had to go out in the field, refusing to go near Derek Morgan at all, but this hadn’t gone unnoticed.

It had been a long case, missing children always were and when it turned out the parents were to blame it made it feel even worse. The paperwork had all been finished, you’d gone through some cases, but Hotch had told you to go home and come back to it in the morning. Nodding, you’d made your way out of the bullpen and to the elevator, only to find Derek Morgan stood there waiting for you.

“We need to talk.” You tried to keep casual, pushing the button for the elevator. “What’s up?” You questioned trying looking over at him with  a gentle smile. “You’re avoiding me, why?” You tried hard to laugh it off, tried to make him think that you really weren’t, but he kept the same stern Derek Morgan look as he waited for an answer. “Well, Y/N i’m waiting for an answer.” The elevator opened, but Derek grabbed your hand to keep you from walking away from him. “I can’t do this Derek, alright? I can’t do this.” You pulled your hand from him and stepped into the elevator.

But he followed. “Do what exactly?” He questioned, the classic Derek hot temper showing. “I can’t let myself be with you alright. I see how you act with women out of work and how you are with Garcia. I’ve been hurt too many times before and I can’t, I just can’t let myself get hurt once again.” Annoyance appeared on his face. “Are you serious? Do you honestly think i’m some sort of player? With Garcia we are family, we flirt but it’s nothing it means nothing and if I was with you, do you think that i’d even look at another woman?”

Derek had shouted before punching his fist into the wall. “God, did you even think about asking me or asking anyone else about what type of guy I am before making up your mind. I never thought you were so judgemental! Y/N.” As he’d yelled the Elevator slammed to a holt, and plunged into darkness, leaving the pair of you stood waiting until the emergency lights turned on.

“It’s a bomb threat, they’re going to try and get us out of here. But it might take a while. They have to clear the floors we’re stuck between, before they can get us out.” Derek explained, as he hung up the phone. Leaning back against the cool wall, you closed your eyes for a moment trying to steady your nerves. You’d never had to deal with a bomb before and the idea alone caused you to shake. It was after a few moments of silence that Derek moved over to you and put his arms around you.

“I’m scared Derek.” You whispered wrapping your arms tightly around him. “It’s going to be alright.” He whispered as he began to rub your back. “Derek, i’m sorry. You’re right I should’ve spoken to someone about you, or even talked to you, not just ran away like I did. I’m sorry.” His fingers brushed over your cheek as he looked down at you, his gentle smile calming you down. “It’s alright.” Resting your head in his broad chest, you let out a shaky breath.

“It’s going to be alright  Y/N. I promise you.” You found yourself shaking your head. “How can you be so sure?” You questioned, causing Derek to chuckle. “Because i’ve not had a chance to take you out yet.” His words made you laugh a little. “Who says i’m going to date you?” You questioned looking at him with a serious expression. “You do.” He uttered, before pressing his lips against yours. You froze for a moment, your heart pounding heavily as he kissed you, unsure of what to do, unsure if you should take this step or not.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered as he pulled away, having not had you return the kiss. “Don’t be.” Your lips smashed against his in a feverish kiss, both of your sets of lips began to fight for dominance against the other. Something you caved to every quickly, as his hands slipped down under your butt and picked you up. Groaning against his lips, you pulled yourself closer to him as his tongue gained entry to your mouth. As he stepped back, you felt the cool wall behind you, causing shivers to run down your spine.

Breaking the kiss, his lips moved to your neck. Starting from the jaw, down to the collar bone. Earning a soft moan from you. Your body began grinding against him, as you craved a certain closeness you weren’t getting while wearing clothes. You could feel his hands travelling up the inside of your thigh as he had you pinned against the wall. “Derek.” You moaned as you pulled his jacket open, letting him know that you needed him right now. That if you were both to die, that at least you’d go out together.

“Ahem, attention those in the elevator… This is the great and powerful Penelope Garcia, they have cleared the two floors and are about to get you. So I suggest you stop the R rated activities.” The voice came through the speaker caused the pair of you to pull apart very quickly, Morgan did up his jacket while you adjusted your skirt. “It’s hot in here isn’t it.” Derek suddenly said causing you to nod. “Yeah, really hot.” The pair of you glanced at each other for a moment, then let out a small laugh.

It didn’t take long after that for the doors to be pulled open, a small grin appeared as you were both helped out and escorted down the stairs. “So, Y/N. Your place or mine?” He asked as the pair of you went to step out of the stairwell. “What are you talking about Mr. Morgan?” You questioned. “You’ll have to take me on a date first.” Winking at him, you stepped out into the cold night air and made your way to the team leaving Derek to stand there looking extremely baffled.

[alixzin]

Right you're going to regret unleashing my prompting because I have 31 OF THEM (I'm really very sorry) a whole bunch are cliched but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ , as you said. Please tell me to fuck off 1. Meeting the cast, take 2. Does he meet them individually or all together? 2. Alex is being bullied at school. Does he fight back or not? Does he tell Lin and V or try to hide it? 3. Alex struggles to make friends because of his attachment issues. 4. Alex does make friends but worries about telling them who his foster family are. (alternatively he tries to hide the fact that he’s a foster kid at all) 5. Maybe it takes a while for them to find the right therapist? 6. Alex actually IS embarrassed by Lin. 7. Alex struggles to gain weight. 8. Legal drama arises with a past foster parent. Maybe they’re brought up on charges for the sexual abuse? 9. Family vacation. Would a beach bring up bad memories? Would Alex hate flying or be totally glued to the window the entire way over? 10. Alex struggles with casual money use because he’s used to having to scrimp and save. 11. Meeting the grandparents 12. Meeting the cousins/aunts and uncles 13. The press learns the Mirandas have a foster kid. 14. Lin starts getting asked about Alex in interviews and SHUTS THAT SHIT DOWN 15. Discussion of the London move (maybe Alex thinks they’re going to leave him behind?) (not sure how foster system works but would they have to jump through lots of legal hoops to be able to take him with them? (Vanessa and her lawyer knowledge) 16. Alex comes to a performance and gets totally star-struck by a VIP (alternatively Lin is totally star-struck by a VIP but has to play it cool because his kid is there) 17. Animal-assisted-therapy (apparently helps a great deal with survivors of sexual assault?) 18. WHITE HOUSE VISIT. 19. Parent-teacher meetings (do you have to do that for the age group you teach lol?) 20. Tony awards/Grammy awards etc. Does Lin mention Alex in his raps/sonnets/teary speeches? If not why? 21. Alex gets twitter or something and posts something he shouldn’t (pic of Seb/script page/private comment) cue angry Lin. 22. Alex has to get an MRI when he gets a proper prescription for his migraine meds. 23. Vanessa and Lin deciding they want to foster 24. Obligatory first meeting with Alex fic 25. Alex learning to trust the Mirandas with regards to touch (maybe like a 5+1 type thing?) 26. Lin introduces Alex to some of his favourite music/movies/books/shows and Alex HATING it. 27. Alex opens up to Lin and V about his past abuse. 28. Taking Tobi for a walk 29. Various occasions- birthdays/holidays and the like 30. Alex starts to gain some independence (getting to school on his own and the like) 31. Awkward Safe Sex talk

all-the-worlds-a-fandom

Prompt responses. Not any stories yet, just bouncing ideas around. I know that I work best when I can discuss my ideas first. Once a lifetime ago (okay, not really but being a teenager feels that way) I wrote a 22 chapter fanfic novel with 2 other authors. The experience was incredible. Pretty much everything I know about writing was learned from that collaboration. Basically, it consisted of writing a small piece, sharing it with the other two and then spending hours discussing it and what comes next via the comment section with these two strangers. Looking back, I can’t even say it was my best work, but it was creativity at its finest.

2. He would hide it. Alex would so hide it! I think how he’d react would be a bizarre contrast between little Alex putting his head down just taking it and overreacting/ lashing out big time. I’m picturing the inside out characters fear and anger (still haven’t seen it) fighting over lead control on this one. I imagine this would just egg the bullies on since not knowing which reaction they were going to get this time would add to the fun of it. I’m not picturing physical bullying, just a constant wave of low level taunts and harassment.

3. Yes! One thing I don’t want to do is go the route, that like everyone has done, where Alex quickly has a close group of friends (Laurens, Mulligan, Lafayette, Schuyler sisters). It’s adorable, but already well explored. I am much more interested in the idea of Alex being very isolated and alone in the world. Like I could see one of the reasons Alex and Lin are so close is because Lin is Alex’s only friend.

I’m very charmed by the idea of Alex becoming friends with Chris Jackson’s son whose a few years younger than Alex and has autism. Lin and Chris are best friends so it makes sense their families would spend a lot of time together. I can picture the two boys hiding in the corner together at a cast party, both overwhelmed by all the people and noise for different reasons. I can see it taking Lin a while to acknowledge that with all of Alex’s combined issues, he’s also a special needs father like Chris, but once he does becoming even closer to his friend from having this is common. Maybe there’s a moment at the party watching the two of them together and coming to this realization. (note though that I would only ever write about their interactions observed from a distance, or mentioned in passing, since writing fanfic about a real life child is so crossing the line) I can also see Lin just aching for Alex to have a friend.

4,6,13,14. It will take him awhile but once he starts forming the beginning seeds of friendship this would be a big issue that derails his attempts. Especially with Lin’s overnight celebrity status that comes from Hamilton. Since Alex coming to them when the show is still in development I can see this becoming a major plotline. Lin starts getting recognized on the streets of NYC all the time when he’s out with Alex and it freaks him out. It becomes a thing that Alex is constantly ducking out of the way for selfies, but people also start taking creepy photos of them from a distance and posting it to the internet. Questions start to arise about who this teen is that looks just like LMM. When asked by fans Lin dismissively says he’s a relative, so initially the thought is that Alex is his nephew, but as Alex starts popping up more and it comes out that he’s living with him the circulating rumor is that Alex might be Lin’s bastard child from a prior relationship (since they look so much alike) and that Lin might have knocked up a gf in college that he recently got custody of.  People become extra curious because Lin is always tweeting about his life and sharing photos, but Alex is never directly mentioned which seems suspicious. Lin’s super protective and does not want to let on that Alex is a fosterkid. Any press questions about Alex and the interview would be shut down. He knows the press would have a field day with that story, but at the same time the various circulating rumors start to become very harmful. I also know that in the state of New York it is perfectly legal for paparazzi to take photos of celebrity kids (while it’s illegal in California) which starts to become a problem for Alex. Just to add to the mess, social services starts to question if the Miranda’s are a suitable placement given all of this. Oh boy…

5. Honestly because he’s Hamilton I don’t think he’s ever going to fully open up to a therapist. No matter what they do or which new person they try Alex just keeps on glaring and refusing to talk. Eventually they all realize that it’s currently a waste of time, but since social services is requiring it they keep bringing Alex to his weekly sessions. Maybe after a couple years of this Alex will finally break?

7. Conversation coming back from doctor’s appointment weigh in:

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know that wasn’t nearly enough. I really am trying, I swear. I’ll do better though, promise. I’ll make you proud next time.” Alex is bordering on hysterical, crushed by the look of disappointment on Lin’s face when he saw the numbers on the scale. He hates letting him down.

“Alexander I’m not mad at you, kid.”

“You’re not?”

“No! All this means is we’re stopping for a big serving of ice cream on our way home.”

9. Maybe on a family trip to Puerto Rico? Yeah, I don’t think Alex would do well with the beach, especially in an environment so close to Nevis. I can just see him standing frozen right on the edge of where the ground meets the sand, refusing to take a step further. The whole family is dressed and ready for a fun day on the beach and Alex won’t move. Lin and Vanessa are baffled since the exact details of what happened to him with the hurricane are fuzzy in his report. Alex and the ocean have some major trust issues to work out. If the ocean was a character like in Moana they would need couples counseling. If they stayed in a beachfront resort they’d end up having to switch to a room that *wasn’t* ocean view.

15. This has been in the back of my mind for a while now. I’ve gone as far as to research it a bit and prior court permission is required before even taking a foster kid out of state. Out of the country trips are allowed, but requires a lot of advance planning and paperwork, and an extended time would not be well tolerated. They would probably have to fast track an adoption or legal guardianship (a step between fostering and adoption, I have a friends Mom whose done this with a child of distant Native American decent who could not legally be adopted outside of their tribe) to make it happen. But Alex might not be legally free to be adopted because it can’t be proven that Alex’s dad might not come back into the picture later. Meanwhile they are trying to keep all these legal proceedings a secret from Alex so he doesn’t stress over it, but then Alex reads online that Lin has been cast in Mary Poppins before they get a chance to talk to him about it, and becomes convinced he’s getting left behind. He would probably sit on this for a good week or so before saying anything. Later when it’s looking like it’s not going to go through Lin is ready to turn down the role and Alex feels horrible. This is angst extreme!

18. I just love the image of Alex tagging along shyly behind Lin at the white house. But it’s sure going to take a lot of convincing to get him to come…

19. Yes, I do! I’ve given some thought into the process of Alex needing to be placed on a special plan (like a 504 plan for his panic attacks and migraines since they are affecting his ability to function at school). This is the definition of writing what I know! It can be a tough process and I can see Alex (and initially Lin) being resistant to having any kind of association with special education.

Written weeks ago:

Alex’s mid-term report card leaves him dumbfounded. It’s not even the letter grades themselves, averaging C’s with a splattering of B’s and Ds). It’s the comments that shock him:

“Multiple missing assignments, falling behind, risk of failing, does not complete assignments, frequently misses class, clearly very bright, not living up to potential, work completed brilliant, lazy.”

This is not his Alex. Alex who Lin constantly finds knee deep in schoolwork. Alex who stays up far later than he should reading. Alex who frequently needs to be forced to take a break from his writing. Did they get him mixed up with another Alexander Hamilton?

Some digging reveals that Alex often skips class when feeling especially anxious or having a panic attack or avoiding other students. He hides in the bathroom. He also gets lots of milder headaches which makes it hard to get class assignments done. Also, Alex flat out refuses to participate in group projects.

After talking to all of the teachers a theme emerges: all homework, extended individual assignments and tests Alex excels in. He’s doing horribly in participation points, groups projects and in class assignments. How well he’s doing is proportional to how much weight these items carry in class. Classes where tests and essays make up the bulk of the grade Alex is doing well in. Classes where the opposite is true Alex is bombing.  

20. “Sebastian and Alex, Daddy’s bringing you home a Grammy.” That’s all I’ve got so far, and it might be changed, but it’s cute. I think it’s a given that Alex refuses to come to any of the award ceremonies, despite multiple offers.

22 I’ve been throwing this idea around as well (it’s already been eluded to in the stories). When I was Alex’s age I had, like, all of the brain related tests done. I thought the MRI was super cool, but I can see anyone with claustrophobia or trust issues (a cage like thing is placed over your head to keep it still and the machines quite loud) freaking out. EEGs sucked! I had to stay awake for 24 hours with no caffeine beforehand and then they torture you with flashing lights and weird breathing and such. Then my teenage self got all hysterical about all the glue in my hair because I was so exhausted my emotions were all out of whack. I’m already feeling bad for Alex (and Lin) thinking about how I’m going to use this memory to torture him.

24. Since our first discussion I have come up w/ a few ideas that haven’t been done before, but I’m keeping those to myself for now. We’ll see what happens.

New problem: what do I tackle first?  

[chasingthecosmos]

Three Hearts to Own

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: G Pairing: The Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Chapters: 6/10 Read on AO3 here.

A (sort of) season re-write centering around the Doctor’s touch telepathy and the many ways that it makes his life difficult while he attempts to move on from the loss of Rose Tyler. This work is based around Seasons 3 & 4 and the Tenth Doctor. It’s the final entry in the “A Hand to Hold” series, but it can also be read as a stand-alone. The first four or five chapters will just be short excerpts from the Doctor’s time away from Rose, but there will be a Journey’s End fix-it and a happily ever after at the end. Tags will be updated as I go. Chapters will vary in length.

Chapter Six: Donna (Part Two)

---------- The Doctor's Daughter ----------

Apparently, the thing that the TARDIS simply couldn't wait to show them ended up being a futuristic, underground bunker on a planet called Messaline, where two races fought for control and dominance in order to settle and colonize the planet.

For the first time in a while, however, the Doctor found that he simply couldn't care less about the war that was going on around them, because they barely managed to make it two steps outside of the TARDIS before his right arm was thrust roughly into a machine which took a layer of skin from the back of his hand and promptly spat out a fully-grown adult woman who seemed to have been produced using his own tissues.

The Doctor was slow to believe the proof of his own eyes as he watched the young blonde woman immediately spring into action, but he had to admit that there were certain familial traits that seemed to ring true as he watched her take up her weapon and begin shooting at and exploding everything that got in her way.

Donna later labeled the young woman "Jenny", but the Doctor was loath to use the name. He had learned long ago that you should never name the things that you didn't intend to keep, and he certainly planned to run as far and as fast as he could the first moment that he got the chance. He still didn't know why his TARDIS had brought them all here in the first place, but the Doctor suspected that his old ship might finally be going a bit senile in her old age as he determined to get as far away from this "Jenny" person as soon as possible.

However, as soon as Donna pointed out the girl's second heart, the Doctor instantly knew that there would be no outrunning his mistakes - not this time. If there was another Time Lord in existence - even the mere echo of one - then she was his responsibility. It wasn't as if she had anywhere else to go, after all - the Doctor had made certain of that when he destroyed Gallifrey. Thankfully, there seemed to be just enough of the Doctor's overly-sentimental hearts in the girl, and she quickly learned the lesson that the Doctor himself had spent lifetimes trying to learn - that there was always a choice, and that there was always a better option than killing.

Still, the Doctor was hesitant to entertain the thought of Jenny coming away with them on the TARDIS. Simply looking at her was difficult, when the familiar light in her eyes reminded him so vividly of all that he had loved and lost not only on Gallifrey, but also on Bad Wolf Bay. All of that hope for a family and a future had long since been dashed to pieces, and he knew that he couldn't risk feeding that ridiculous sense of "maybe" ever again.

"But when they died, that part of me died with them," the Doctor lied with the best approximation of an emotionless mask that he could muster. "It'll never come back - not now."

But Donna, of course, called the Doctor's bluff, and as he held Jenny's dying body in his arms a short while later, he had to admit that she was right. Still, he managed to lie one last time as he cradled his daughter's body close and whispered, "We can go anywhere - everywhere. You choose."

"That sounds good," she agreed weakly, the tears in her eyes telling him that she wasn't going to be falling for any of his lies, either.

The Doctor decided to attempt raw honesty next, as he brought his hand to her face and filled her mind with all of the breathless wonder of the universe that they both knew that she would never live to see with her own eyes. "You're my daughter," he told her gently, "and we've only just got started. You're going to be great. You're going to be more than great - you're going to be amazing."

He continued to press a thousand other wordless promises into her mind even after she had long since closed her eyes and gone still. The Doctor sealed his vow to never forget again with a kiss to her forehead and then made sure that the rest of the people who he was leaving behind on Messaline would never forget, either - that they would always remember that there was a choice and that one never had to be cruel when they could be brave instead.

"All those things you've been ready to die for ..." Martha muttered later after he had finally returned her back to her normal life once more. "I thought for a moment there you'd finally found something worth living for."

"Oh, there's always something worth living for, Martha," he assured her, and for the first time in a very long time, the Doctor actually managed to believe in the truth of his own words. Maybe he would never have his family or Rose back ever again, and maybe he would lose dozens more along the way, but no matter how many times his hearts broke, there would always be more - more planets to explore, more people to save, more relationships to build him up and tear him down in a thousand different ways.

The Doctor's future had been stolen from him when he had lost the woman who he loved, but for the first time since Bad Wolf bay, he was beginning to hope again. The sensation was odd and terrifying to say the least, but he knew without a doubt that it was what Rose would have wanted for him, so he decided to cherish the fleeting sensation while he could and pray that maybe this time, it would last.

---------- The Unicorn and the Wasp ----------

The Doctor got to scratch a line off of his mental bucket list when he and Donna traveled to 1920s England and began solving mysteries with none other than Agatha Christie herself. These were the types of adventures that the Doctor lived for - though personally he could have done without all of the murders and the attempted poisoning (he really,

really

missed Rose, then - having a mental connection with someone would have saved him a lot of trouble with having to mime to Donna what he needed, and the shock of a saving kiss would have been much more appreciated).

The day was saved and the truth was revealed in the end, though the Doctor supposed that it never could have gone any other way with a brilliant mind like Agatha's on their side.

He mourned the death of an innocent creature at the same time that he celebrated the successful resolution of the mystery and silently wondered to himself what it might be like to completely lose one's memory of another person. Was it even truly possible? Or would the hole that the person left behind always be there, whispering in the back of your mind and making you yearn for something or someone that you couldn't even remember? They were questions that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to answer, but the Doctor determined to keep trying in the meantime anyway.

---------- Silence in the Library & Forest of the Dead ----------

The Doctor told himself that he went to The Library because he was feeling nostalgic after meeting one of the greatest Earth authors of all time, but the truth of the matter was that there was another mystery afoot and he simply couldn't help himself. The call on the psychic paper drew him in just as it always did, though the situation turned out to be far more dire than he had originally accounted for.

His first glimpse of Professor River Song was through a space suit helmet, her unfamiliar features lit up blue from the dark confines within. Their first exchange was pretty brief too, as she greeted him fondly and he, in turn, demanded that she leave. All in all, it was so very different from his first interaction with Rose (a sharp rebuke versus a beckoning, desperate hand) that the Doctor couldn't quite wrap his mind around who this woman from his future was and why she seemed to think that they were so close.

When she reached out and touched him for the first time, the Doctor had to fight very hard not to flinch away from the bare skin of her hand resting against the side of his face, so very, dangerously close to his temples. It was then that he noticed something else that was so very, dangerously strange about River - she was a human, that was for certain, but she seemed to have a grasp of telepathic communication as she very deftly projected the sensation of longing and reunion into his thoughts without words or warning.

"Doctor ... please tell me you know who I am ..." she murmured breathlessly when he immediately threw up every mental defense that he could think of against her intrusion and she finally let her hand fall from the side of his face with a defeated, weary expression.

"Who are you ...?" he asked plainly, attempting to school his features into blank curiosity rather than display the true horror that he felt as he gaze defensively from her raised hand to her face and back again.

The hurt that filled her expression then completely baffled him, and the Doctor found that he was being drawn to the mysterious blue diary that River toted around with her as surely as he had been drawn to the call on the psychic paper. However, the mysterious professor absolutely refused to let him so much as look at the small book that she so fiercely protected, and the Doctor could feel his frustrations continuing to build as he desperately tried to puzzle out who this woman from the future was. A woman who, apparently, had a sonic screwdriver with her - and not just any sonic screwdriver, either, but his.

All thoughts of trying to uncover the truth of Professor River Song were temporarily abandoned, however, when the Doctor suddenly discovered that he had not, in fact, managed to save Donna from the hungry swarms of vashta nerada that were currently closing in on them from all sides.

"Donna Noble has left the library," the nearest information node alerted him matter-of-factly, using Donna's own face in an attempt to reassure him. "Donna Noble has been saved."

However, the Doctor wasn't reassured in the least as the walking skeletons who had been hijacked by the vashta nerada continued to chase them down the long library hallways and Donna's current state of wellbeing remained a complete and total mystery.

He was even less assured when River suddenly pulled him in and whispered his true name into his ear - a name that only one other person in the entirety of time and space had any right to know, a name that should never be spoken from any other woman's lips, not now, not ever.

He could only stare down at River in dumbfounded, horrified shock as she hesitantly asked, "Are we good?"

And no, they absolutely were not anywhere near "good", but lives were on the line, and the Doctor couldn't stand there frozen and simply staring at the anomalous woman forever, so he did what he always did - he lied and pushed the issue aside to be sorted out later.

"Yeah. Yeah, we're good," he stated breathlessly.

In the end, the Doctor did manage to scrape together a plan to rescue everyone who had been trapped in the library and free the living mind operating as the planet's computer hard drive, but it did have some significant, unfortunate pitfalls. Namely, he was going to have to sacrifice himself to save everyone else. Nothing new, really - though regrettable, considering the fact that he knew he'd never be able to regenerate after such a drain on his energy.

However, he never got the chance to actually carry the thing through before Professor Song's right fist connected hard with the left side of his face and instantly knocked the Doctor out stone cold. His slightly warming opinion of the professor was immediately reconsidered as he finally came to again and realized that the impossible, ridiculous woman planned to sacrifice herself in his place.

"Time can be rewritten!" the Doctor insisted desperately as he strained against his handcuffs (and really - who was this woman, who carried around handcuffs?) and attempted to get River to see reason.

"Not those times! Not one line, don't you dare!" she insisted emphatically, refusing to allow him to talk his way out of this one. "It's okay," she assured him, her tone going gentle as she looked down on him with tears in her eyes. "It's okay, it's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me, time and space - you watch us run!"

She disappeared before his eyes in a blazing flash of light - gone outside of his reach before the Doctor ever really got the chance to uncover who she was (and, perhaps more importantly, who she was to him). Trapped as he was by the handcuffs around his left wrist, the Doctor was forced to sit and confront the consequences of his actions until someone finally appeared and set him free from his misery.

He stared hard at the seat that River had occupied for longer than he cared to admit as he allowed himself to wallow in his morose thoughts and ponder why it was that he always had to watch those closest to him die. Even River - who he didn't even rightfully know yet, but who clearly loved him - had laid down her life in his name. Was it even possible to love the Doctor and live?

The thought troubled him far more than he thought that it should, considering the fact that he had quite sworn off such relationships (despite River's claims for the future). But could it really be true that he was doomed to wander the universe for eternity completely and totally alone? Would anyone ever be able to live up to Rose? Would anyone ever even come close? And even if they did, would the Doctor ever be able to bear the entirety of his bruised and battered hearts to them?

It seemed a ridiculous request to make of the universe that seemed quite satisfied to watch him suffer, but the Doctor decided the wouldn't give up hoping regardless. It was what Rose would have done, after all.

---------- Midnight ----------

The Doctor had always liked words in this new body. Having them all suddenly taken away from him cut him deep and left him feeling more scared than he had been in a very long time. He really had expected to die on that bright, glittering planet of Midnight. He had seen the best and the worst of humans during his 900 years of space and time travel, and he of all people knew what they were capable of. With no voice to plead his case or talk riddles around everyone else, he really thought that perhaps he had finally met his end.

But thankfully, words still managed to save the day in the end, and when the Doctor finally returned to Donna once more he hugged her tight and silently allowed himself to begin the process of releasing the (many) mental shields that he had been hiding himself behind ever since he left Bad Wolf Bay. It was strange to suddenly be able to sense an emotion that wasn't his own aching loneliness and heartbreak (though the Doctor was surprised to find that Donna had plenty of that to go around, as well), and he actually let out an audible sigh of relief as he gladly accepted her silent offer of peace and comfort.

When they finally turned to return to the TARDIS once more, the Doctor found that he had to fight to hold himself back and not grab for Donna's hand - his desire to chase after another living person's thoughts and emotions almost overpowering him. He knew that he was probably inviting more trouble than anything by walking around unshielded for the first time in years, but he was simply tired of the silence in his head, which echoed and rang with the emptiness, much like the surface of the planet Midnight. Just like that creature wandering alone out there amongst the diamonds, he craved warmth and companionship and a promise that he didn't have to be alone, if he didn't want to.

He did, however, make a mental note to have a talk with Donna about touch telepathy as soon as possible. He could only imagine the row that would await him if he accidentally picked up on something that she didn't want him to know about. The thought alone was almost enough to scare him back into raising his shields once more as they left the desolation and misery of Midnight behind them.

---------- Turn Left ----------

The Doctor took them to a crowded alien bazaar next, eager to fill all of his senses with as much noise and light and overstimulation as he could possibly get. Donna happily played along, too - eager to see and taste and try all of the new things that the alien system had to offer her.

The Doctor didn't worry too much when they were inevitably separated - Donna was an adult who could look after herself, after all (she had proven the fact many times throughout their adventures) - but her look of terror when he finally tracked her down again had him instantly concerned, and the hug that bubbled with her elated relief only managed to heighten his confusion.

However, it wasn't until the Doctor examined the dead Time Beetle and Donna began to relay the stories of the strange parallel world that she had experienced that he began to grow truly frightened. He listened in enraptured silence as she told him stories of a mysterious blonde woman with no name and an encroaching darkness that was threatening all of the worlds in existence.

"But she told me ... to warn you," Donna muttered haltingly. "She said, 'two words' ..."

The Doctor had two words, too - two words that Donna's story had instantly sparked back to life and were currently burning in his chest and setting his hearts on fire. Two words that could only ever belong to one other living creature. Two words that were secret, cherished, and sacred above all else.

Could it possibly be ...?

"What two words? What were they? What did she say?" he demanded breathlessly.

Donna's eyes were wide and filled with fear as she finally whispered, "Bad Wolf ..."

They weren't the words that he had been expecting, but as the Doctor dashed through the alien marketplace and saw the seven simple letters adorning every solid surface in sight, he realized that they could never have been anything else. Bad Wolf was the one phrase that linked him to Rose - it was a promised reunion even when all hope seemed lost and every other option had tried and failed. Bad Wolf was a bridge - an escape, a lifeline. Bad Wolf was hope.

And despite all that had happened and the many times that he had been misled and crushed by it in the past, the Doctor decided to chase after that hope like his life depended on it - knowing full well that this time, it just might.