#i wonder if the doctor ever thought about what the time lords did to jamie when he had to wipe donnas mind

[witchofthemidlands]

tales of the tardis is enough for me, it is, it really is, after all those years, jamie & zoe finally got their memories back & if that's the last we see of jamie mccrimmon that was fantastic, it was more than enough, there is & now will always be a conclusion

but

if i had to bring any classic who companion back to new (new?) who it would be jamie, it would always be jamie because the idea of jamie meeting a modern doctor sends me just a tad feral, just a a little bit balls to the wall feral.

[novelconcepts]

You saying more childhood AU is possible with the right prompt is just...

More Tess. All of the Tess. Tess the morning after the party, lives in my brain rent free. The teasing. The knowing looks. The Jamie and Dani being so in love and unashamed and also oops we forgot the roommate. And Tess being the wonderful person she is and not letting them get away with anything.

It’s the fact that they think they’re subtle, that really gets her. 

Not that Tess is upset to find Jamie crashing with them the week following graduation. Of course Jamie is crashing with them. Where else would she go, now that Dani “it’s important to grow up and change and learn who you really are, or some such bull” Clayton has finally snapped up the hot gardener of her dreams? Honestly, if Dani let her walk out that door--especially after that first night, which, hello, gardener; these walls aren’t half as thick as they apparently think--she’d have forfeited all rights to sanity, and Tess would have no choice but to make her move instead.

No, she isn’t upset to find Jamie still here the following morning. Or at all. She loves Jamie. What’s not to love? 

Honestly, so much to love. If she didn’t love Dani even more, she might have to really test the bounds of this friendship. Particularly when she opens her bedroom door to find Jamie--hair rumpled, dressed in a half-unbuttoned flannel and a pair of boxer shorts--at the kitchen counter. Like, warn a woman. 

“Warn you about what?” Jamie looks blank, her hands prying open each cupboard with evidently-mounting disappointment. “You really don’t have any tea?”

“Warn a woman,” Tess repeats, hip-checking her gently out of the way and scrounging the supply of English Breakfast out from behind the stoner snacks. “Before you turn up in her kitchen looking all sex-rumpled. I haven’t even had coffee, Taylor, Jesus.”

Jamie blinks, taking the box from her hands. “O...kay. How was the rest of the party?”

“Not nearly as engaging as your night,” Tess informs her pleasantly, delighted when Jamie’s sleep-muddled expression lights up with embarrassment. “But an extravaganza in its own right all the same. Where’s my girl? I know you railed her into next week, but it seems bad manners to leave you to breakfast alone.”

“I didn’t--we--”

“Thin walls,” Tess sing-songs. “Like paper. Or, what, you’re English--parchment?”

“We have paper,” Jamie deadpans. Tess pats her shoulder, working around her to fill the kettle. 

“Good fortune really does smile upon you. Ah! Sleeping Beauty arises!”

Dani, looking only slightly more functional than Jamie, is emerging from the bathroom with an expression that suggests she, at least, is very aware of the acoustics of their apartment. It’s so tempting to tease her about it--Dani has this truly adorable habit of looking like she might combust if pushed too far, the red of her face complimented nicely by the gold of her hair--but Tess figures some things can wait. Lord knows they’re going to walk right into it soon enough.

But like--so soon. Like, she goes off to take a shower, and comes back to find they still haven’t left the kitchen soon.

“Seriously?” She laughs, watching them leap apart. It’s too clear Dani has forgone the idea of coffee and bacon for the much-more-invigorating art of pushing Jamie against the refrigerator. Not that Tess can blame her. 

“We--were just--”

“Right in front of my cereal,” Tess says gravely, shaking her head in faux-disappointment as she stretches over Jamie--whose hands are still rooted to Dani’s hips, the hem of Dani’s shirt dropping hastily back over her stomach--to retrieve a box of off-brand Lucky Charms. “No shame.”

They’re both making noises of disagreement, as though Tess hasn’t had her share of groping in the kitchen experiences to call on. She snorts. 

“Look, far be it from me to stop your, ah, young love in its tracks. Just. Keep it out of my bedroom, is all I ask. Unless...” She wiggles her eyebrows. Jamie clears her throat so violently, it sounds as though she might fracture something.

“Shower. Should. I.”

“That sentence normally goes in the other direction,” says Tess helpfully. Dani swats her back, grinning. 

“Got that out of your system yet?”

“Oh, not nearly.” Tess beams. “By all means, Clayton, show her where the shower lives.”

“I know where the,” Jamie begins to protest, but Dani is slipping both arms around her middle, pressing against her back to urge her toward the bathroom.

“That’s her polite way of saying if I don’t go with you now, she’s going to spend the next half hour fishing for details.”

“You still owe me those,” Tess calls after them. “Every last filthy one.”

***

They think the shower is noise-cancelling, too, Tess realizes about four minutes later. Jesus, these beautiful useless idiots. 

***

It’s the lack of subtlety masquerading as Chill, really. The fact that every single time Tess leaves a room, she can count slowly to ten, poke her head back out, and find they’ve picked right back up where last she interrupted. 

Step into the bedroom to change her clothes? Come back out to find Dani straddling Jamie on the couch. 

Take a quick smoke break on the stairs out front? Glance through the window to find Jamie shirtless, the unmistakable tread of scratches running down her back beneath her bra. 

Offer to run out for lunch? Spend an extra five minutes idly counting clouds, because fuck only knows the sounds Dani is making isn’t karaoke. 

“You two,” she announces, tossing the pizza box onto the counter with a flourish, “are going to break something if you keep this up. I mean, you’re at least taking hydration breaks, I hope? Do I need to bring you a power bar?”

Jamie has the decency to look slightly ashamed of herself, though there’s a definite grin beneath the hunched shoulders. Dani, selecting a slice of pepperoni-and-banana-peppers, shrugs. 

“Consider it payback?”

“For who?” Tess demands, delighted. Dani raises her free hand, ticking her fingers down toward her palm.

“Tyler, whose butt I saw like ten minutes before you introduced us. May, who you used to desecrate the kitchen floor. Carlos and Beth--”

“Liz,” Tess interrupts, “she goes by Liz these days.”

“--Liz, with whom you conveniently forgot I needed to shower before my presentation and took up the bathroom for three hours--”

“Okay, okay,” Tess snorts, groping for a dishtowel in some shade of off-white to wave. “Truce.”

“And that’s just this apartment,” Dani says cheerfully. She tilts her head to look at Jamie, whose face can best be described as aghast. “Back in the dorm, she used to sneak girls in after I was asleep.”

“You were a sound sleeper!” 

“No one is sound enough to ignore a bed frame breaking, Tess.”

“I...avoiding college was the right choice,” Jamie says weakly. Tess bats her eyes.

“You’re saying you’ve never dreamed of breaking a bed frame with me, Taylor?”

Jamie darts a look around at Dani, her eyes just shy of screaming. Tess is having the best time of her life. 

***

“Tell me honestly, though,” she says. Jamie gives her a sharp look, uncertainty obvious even as she reaches to accept the joint Tess is passing her way. 

“Really don’t think Dani wants me giving you a play by play.”

“Dani, beloved of my soul, was fool enough to schedule a doctor’s appointment while you were still in town. She knows what I’m about.” 

To Jamie’s credit, she doesn’t choke this time. She puffs once, twice, holding the smoke in her lungs an impressively long time before craning her head back and exhaling. "What am I telling you honestly?”

“You’re going to keep an eye on her, right?”

Jamie looks surprised. “Yeah. Not that she needs it, mind. Just. Yeah. Always.”

Tess sighs. “She doesn’t need it, but you know as well as I what that woman is like. Too good. Too fucking good for her own good, you know? Forgets, sometimes, that she can come first, too.”

Jamie offers a smile nearly wicked in its amusement. “Oh, I take care of that.”

“Yes,” Tess drawls, “darling, I can tell. You know, really relieved she never brought anyone home before now. I’m not sure my beauty sleep could have taken the abuse.”

Jamie laughs, leaning back and pulling a throw pillow into a loose embrace. “She doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. But...”

“But you can’t help wanting to, anyway,” Tess guesses. When Jamie nods, she takes another hit, lets the smoke burn in her chest. “She has that effect on people. Our girl would take a bullet for anyone, and it’s...impossible not to love her for it.”

“She’s the reason,” Jamie says softly, “I didn’t run. Reason I did a lot of things, some of ‘em really, really stupid. Sometimes I think everything I’ve ever done can be traced back home to her, one way or another.”

“That, my dear,” Tess says, “is what fools and songstresses alike call love, I think. Just...do me a favor, keep her from killing herself for those kids.”

Jamie nods. “I will. Promise.”

“Good,” Tess says lightly. “I like you, Jamie. You’ve got the hands of a sinner and the smile of a saint. I’d really hate to have to track you down and kill you for doing her wrong.”

***

For all the sex, and all the blushing that follows, it’s late nights like this one that really say it all. Nights where cards fade into lazy conversation fade into this: Jamie, asleep on the couch, her head resting in Dani’s lap. Dani, looking down at her like she’s never felt so at home in her own skin. 

And Tess, watching them both, astonished by the lack of fear in the room. The lack of distance. The lack of uncertainty. 

Dani, who has always been a nervous sort, whose panic attacks are so predictable on bad weeks, Tess came back from that first Christmas break with a laundry list of coping methods to offer--looks perfectly at peace. Her fingers stroke back Jamie’s hair, tracing her forehead, her nose, every brush of contact only seeming to sink Jamie deeper into dream. Dani has never looked like this before. 

“You’re happy,” Tess says quietly. Not a question. Not a challenge. Dani smiles.

“Part of me thought she’d get sick of it, you know. Waiting for me.”

“Who could get sick of you?” Tess asks, and means it. No one in the world stacks up to Dani, on a list of favorite people. No one in the world ever could. If Jamie really did fall ass over teakettle for this woman when they were barely old enough to know what love was, she couldn’t be blamed for it. Not for a second. 

“You’ll invite me to the wedding, of course,” Tess says, when Dani--eyes closed, fingers still tracing aimlessly--says nothing for a while. One blue eye emerges, her nose scrunching up. 

“Jumping ahead, aren’t you?”

“She’d do it here and now, if you asked. Shit, I could get ordained, do it for you. Always thought I’d look nice in a little suit.”

“You’d be gorgeous,” Dani says, without a hint of deprecation. Tess blows her a kiss. “And...yes. If and when, I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

“As officiant?”

“I was thinking maid of honor,” Dani laughs. Tess leans back, smiling. 

“That’ll do.”

The silence creeps in again, the sleepy indulgence of post-midnight living that feels so perfectly suited to the college experience. Nothing else, Tess suspects, will ever be quite this again--the quiet feeling like peace, the weariness feeling earned, not crushing. Jamie breathes out in her sleep, one hand drifting to gently grasp the hem of Dani’s shirt.

“Gonna miss you,” Tess says softly. “And this one, too.”

Dani smiles, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “It won’t be the same again, will it?”

“Nope.” And maybe that’s a good thing, she thinks. Maybe that’s exactly how it should be. Growing up. Changing. Learning who they ought to be. “But you’ll call.”

“And write,” Dani agrees. 

“And send me pictures of your hot gardener,” Tess adds. “Lord knows, it’d be a crying shame to forget that.”

Dani laughs. “Never.”

“You did good, Clayton. Took you a minute, but--you did good.”

She lets the silence settle for real, lets Jamie sleep and Dani doze, lets herself sink into the armchair. They aren’t subtle, it’s true--she’ll probably wake tomorrow to find they’ve opted for a quiet round of the most wall-shaking sex she’s ever heard in Dani’s room--but that feels right, somehow. Good, to see Dani refusing to make herself small. Great, to see Dani refusing to temper an emotion this grand.

“I love you idiots,” she says softly. “You’re going to be just fuckin’ fine.”

[aizawaskittenwhore]

𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭

pairing: cartel!shota aizawa x fem!reader

words: 2.4k

warnings: swearing, this will be a cartel!au, so mentions of c*ke and distribution...yeah lol, suggestive content towards the end of the chapter (vague description of a bj), angst, cheating, aizawa just ain’t shit in this story LMFAOOO

a/n: this is the third fucking time i’ve tried to post this so if it doesn’t work i’m gonna cry. but I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE and i can’t wait for you all to see what i’ve got planned. so uh...strap yourselves in it’s about to get crazy. sorry ms joke </3

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐚’ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

The salty, warm breeze from the ocean whipped its way through Shota’s onyx locks, tossing them around with a gentle force. Miami was gorgeous from the water, skyscrapers alight with the buzzing energy of the city, streets crawling with good food and even better looking women. Gorgeous full lips wrapped around martini glasses, criminally short dresses clinging to any skin it was given. He didn’t care much for the nightlife, opting to observe the partygoers from a distance.

He wasn’t here to socialize.

He was here to work.

His wrists draped over the edge of the rail that separated him and the water, a small portion of his weight against the cool metal. When Hizashi suggested that he get a yacht he nearly spat out his whiskey, face contorted in an expression of annoyance and disdain. Shota didn’t understand why someone would need such a flashy boat, it was merely a watercraft meant for travel and or fishing. This wasn’t the 1400’s where one’s worth was tied to the size of a man’s ship. Just another glorified pissing contest for rich people with too much money, and not enough couple’s therapy in the world that could keep them home for days at a time.

It’s not as if he was in any position to judge though, his pinky coming to rest just below the silver band that rarely inhabited his ring finger these days. He doesn’t entirely know what possessed him to wear it, whether it be the ever-crushing guilt from lying to his wife, or the text he’d received from Emi this morning that read:

“Make sure to bring me back a mojito! Don’t work yourself too hard, and remember how much I love you!💕”

If only she knew that these tri-monthly “Inter-Departmental Hero Conferences” were just fronts for selling a literal boat-load of cocaine.

Turns out, yachts were really good for that.

In the span of just five years, superhuman society was nearing it’s peak. Upon the graduation of all the students in the 1-A Hero Course, and Izuku Midoriya’s induction as the new Symbol of Peace; the world began to see an astronomical shift. Crime rates were the lowest they’d ever been, with Japan and the States sitting at 2 and 4.5 percent, respectively. Newly minted Pro Heroes roamed the streets, bringing security to those who needed it and striking fear into the hearts of those who were on the wrong side of the law.

But this utopia came at a price. With the sudden influx of fresh and talented pros, crime decreased exponentially, leaving little villain-based work for Heroes to get paid for. Hostage situations and evacuation efforts took backseat to helping older women across the street and assisting young children with their schoolwork. Soon enough, peace became a burden for those whose careers surrounded chaos.

Aizawa was no exception to this dilemma. Once Midoriya and his classmates graduated and obtained their Hero Licenses, he’d ended his tenure as an instructor at UA. He felt that he’d done his civic duty as a teacher and a Pro, and produced some of the finest Heroes the world would come to see. So he began to settle down. Surprisingly, he’d begun to tolerate Joke’s incessant laughter and boisterous personality, and soon fell in love with the eccentric woman. Between patrols and giving advice to aspiring Heroes at the community center, he and Emi explored all the the world had to offer; swapping out steel-toed combat boots for soft plush flip flops against hot sand. After three years he’d proposed, much to Emi’s delight (and Ashido’s upon hearing that Mr. Aizawa could actually tolerate another human being). The ceremony was small, and intimate. Shinsou serving as the ring bearer, and Eri as the flower girl. Mic even shed a few tears during the toast, though he’ll deny it if Kayama ever brings it up.

For a while, things were good. Life was good. Emi was glowing with the energy of a new life blossoming inside her, and Shota fantasized about meeting his little girl, counting all of her dainty fingers and toes, and doting on her for all to see.

Or at least it was, before agencies began to close. Paychecks got smaller and smaller. Heroes were struggling to find work and their pockets began to struggle along with them. With Emi on maternity leave, and Hero society coming to a standstill, things were looking grim. He needed to provide for his family, his wife, his children.

He needed a plan, and fast.

Luckily, Hizashi always did have good standing with everyone’s favorite Bird Boy. So he called in a few favors.

“Just for a couple months man! We stir up a little bit of noise, make a couple ripples and bam! Crime rate’s back up, and we get back to makin’ money. It’s temporary. Nobody will ever know, I’ll make sure of it. I got you.” Hizashi pleaded, an arm slung across Aizawa’s shoulders as he pensively gazed into his glass of amber liquid. He’d done some vigilante work here and there in his twenties but this....this was outright criminal. But what choice did he have?

Just a few months, he’d said. If only it’d worked out that way.

“I was getting worried you wouldn’t show, Eraser!” Zhu thundered, hands clapping joyously at the other man’s timeliness. “That’s some boat you got there, let me guess...the wife’s idea?” He queried, eyebrows waggling emphatically as Aizawa descended from the metal ladder and onto the wooden pier; eyes rolling into the back of his head at Zhu’s...excitable personality. The two had known each other for about two years or so, having gotten acquainted over the course of Shota’s many trips between Japan and the States, and sometimes South America. Zhu Kanaka was a man of the lower ranks, opting to use his easygoing disposition to negotiate deals for Takami “Lord of The Skies” Keigo, better known as Hawks. Standing at a solid 6 foot 4, with thick black locks that spiked into a point reminiscent of an onion, thick bushy brows and a set jaw, you’d think he wouldn’t hesitate to punt anyone like a football.

At least until he opened his mouth.

“As it turns out, Emi hates the damn thing. Makes her seasick. Hizashi talked me into getting the fuckin’ eyesore.” He intoned. His left hand palmed his slacks for the emergency pack of cigarettes he kept in his back pocket for when he was stressed during a deal, although he never really needed them anymore after Eri said she wanted him to quit. He still held on to them though, just in case. “The hell you waiting for? You know the deal man. Let’s see it.” He muttered, silently willing for Zhu to get on with it so he could get in a bed. Three and a half hours on a goddamned boat (that you didn’t even want to begin with) will do that to you.

“Someone looks like he needs a nap. Alright, I got ya. Count it, make sure it’s all there. I had Thing 1 and Thing 2 back there pack it, so you might wanna double check.” Zhu quipped, jerking a thumb towards the two young men currently engaged in a heated game of Rock, Paper, Scissors; the pair of them flushing upon receiving one of Aizawa’s infamous stares. Two thick black duffles were handed to his two bodyguards, the men immediately unzipping and checking the stacks, a mental tally steadily climbing higher and higher as they sifted through the cash.

“He’s good. Four hundred thousand in each bag. It’s all there, Eraser.” Sato affirmed, Toru nodding alongside the man. “Good. Go ahead and call Jamie, tell him to bring the car around. Zhu, I’ll send Sato and Toru to help your men unload our shipment. It’s a hefty one, so you’ll need the assistance.” Shota offered, shoulders visibly relaxing at the thought of getting some alone time in an empty hotel room.

“Yeah that’d be great, thanks! How long you in town for?”

“Until about 3pm tomorrow. I’ll be on my flight back to Kyushu then.” He states, right arm extending to clasp the other man’s hand in a firm grip. “You’re goin to that meeting the Big Man’s holding in a few days right?” Zhu queries. “Unfortunately, yes. Gonna miss my little girl’s first doctor’s appointment for this shit.”

“No way! She had the baby?!?!? Congratulations man! How’s it feel?” Zhu exclaims, eyes alight with joy for his friend’s new addition to the family. “Feels good. She had a smooth pregnancy, everything worked out fine. Hana’s beautiful, and healthy. I couldn’t be more proud.” Shota brags slightly, heart swelling at the thought of his little girl and how proud he was to know he’d helped in making someone so...ethereal. “Wow. Raising another kid, you flying out all the damn time, along with whatever else you got goin on?? No wonder you look like shit.”

Red eyes and floating hair caused Zhu to immediately retract his former statement.

“Aw I’m just joshin’ Eraser! But I hear ya. It’s a lotta’ sacrifices that go into this, but they’re who we do it for. All of it. Ya know?” Zhu amends, eyes shimmering with the reflection of the city lights off of the water.

Did he even know who... or what he was doing this for anymore?

Shota found himself asking that question more and more often as of late.

“...Right.”

“Anyway, you’re probably spent, so I’ll leave you to it. It was good seeing you man, send Emi my love!” Zhu shouted as he slowly walked towards the men unloading his boat. “Likewise. Tell Macie and the kids I said hello.” Aizawa responded dryly, body screaming for some kind of relief from this exhaustion.

“Will do! Oh, by the way! You might wanna bring some cooler clothes and sunscreen with your pale ass, I hear Guadalajara’s pretty sunny around this time of year! See you in a few days man!” The male laughed, throwing him a wave as he slowly disappeared into the darkness of the port. Massaging the bridge of his nose in irritation, Aizawa nodded in acknowledgement as Jamie pulled up alongside him; his hand reaching for the handle and dragging his siphoned body into the backseat.

Jamie could sense his employer’s weary expression, and didn’t make any attempts at conversation, merely opting to start making his way to the hotel while smooth jazz floated through the car. Forehead against the door of the towncar, Shota typed out a quick message to his wife:

“Alcohol is the last thing you need sweetheart, and I love you too. Got another meeting in a few days, mandatory. I’ll in be in Mexico, so I’ll miss Hana’s appointment. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to the two of you.”

Sent.

The message sat for a few seconds before Emi read and typed out a response:

“Aw, bummer! </3 Dont worry, work is much more important right now. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures!”

“You don’t have to make it up to us, you caring is enough. Get some sleep old man, me and the girls love you. xoxo, Wifey 😘 ”

He didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t deserve any of them.

This he knew. And yet, it didn’t stop him from responding to the unknown number that texted his phone every time he happened to be in town.

“Same time and place? Desperately in the mood to play....My toys just aren’t as good as yours, Eraser. ;)”

His heart sank. A beat passes. Then two.

Calloused thumbs move fluidly across the screen. He’s done this far too many times.

“Be there in 10. You know the routine.”

And in retrospect...he would’ve been way better off just blowing off Guadalajara and going to Hana’s appointment.

Because while he wrapped her slick ponytail around his hand, as a head that wasn’t his wife’s dipped between his legs, he didn’t think this would be his last moment of peace. Shoved down the throat of a woman who’s name he had long forgotten, settling for calling her whatever pet name he felt like adorning her with, her hands clawing at the soft and sleek cotton of his trousers.

Aizawa never anticipated that this would be the last time he would be in a room without immediate reinforcements, and be content.

The last time someone he didn’t trust with his life knew his location, and he wasn’t terrified.

The last moments of peace in his world before it all went to hell.

Temecula, California;

1:36am

The office floor was barren. Dark, coffee stained carpet congealed with the bacteria of old and new; giving it a sad beige color from the creamy foam-like white it was when the building was built. Cubicles cluttered with miscellaneous paperwork from separate departments, all of it raining down from desk to desk like a fresh layer of snow on the first day of winter. Tired, weary hands typed at a computer with precision and accuracy, the warm glow from the screen illuminating the buttons on her blouse as she plowed through each document. Her body raged for a moment of rest, but she couldn’t give in. Not when so much was at stake, not when so much needed to be done in so little time.

After a few minutes, and approximately twelve sips of bittersweet lukewarm coffee, the fingers came to a halt. A sigh of relief was freed from her body as she pushed the enter button on the dusty, tan keyboard and began to pack up for the night. Since the computers were set on an activity timer, there was no need for her to physically shut it down. After 30 seconds of no visible movement, the screen flashed a message declaring that the activity would be suspended within the next 2 minutes if no motion was detected. Content with her work, she slung her work bag over her shoulder, and trudged towards the elevator, mentally clocking out for the night.

As the elevator slowly carried its passenger down, the computer continued its countdown before discontinuing its power, leaving the following words for nobody but its future recipient to read:

Drug Enforcement Agency Operative Travel Request:

Agent: L/N, F/N

Current Operation: Potential formation of a rising cartel under the leadership and or affiliation of Pro Heroes Hawks, Endeavor, and Eraserhead. Agent has been undercover for eight months and twenty-seven days.

Investigation Status: Active

Location of Travel: Guadalajara, Mexico

Reason for Request: Possible gathering of multiple Hero-Run plazas to discuss further movement. Will gather more intel and gain trust of suspects involved/acquire more resources for investigation.

Travel Request Status: Accepted.

[thesassenachswiftie]

Lover Chapter 5 - “False God”

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4

Summary:

Claire has made up her mind to end things with Jamie. How will he react when she makes a confession to him?

Notes:

Thank you all for following along on this journey. We left off in a pretty angsty spot and the angst is going to continue for a bit here.

New chapters every Friday, moodboard release every Monday, previews on Wednesday

Chapter 5:  “False God”

Claire managed to somewhat keep it together all morning as they picked up their discarded clothes scattered about the room, grabbed a quick breakfast and got on the road.  Jamie, of course, noticed the look on her face shortly after waking.  When he inquired, she blamed a hangover (which wasn’t entirely a lie) and assured him she would be fine. She would not be fine, and neither would he, she suspected.  He seemed so chipper, so alive, like he was ready to conquer the world.  She knew she was a terrible person to do this to him, but if she didn’t do it now it would be so much worse for the both of them later.  She decided to tell him when they were about a half hour from her house. That way, if he left her on the side of the road--which she wouldn’t blame him for--she’d be close enough to call Jo to come pick her up. She had made sure her phone was charged the night before if that was to be the case.

 For the first stretch of her trip, she remained quiet, still blaming the hangover and staring out the window as Jamie talked about Scotland and England and all the places he’d love to take her and people he wanted to introduce her to there.  She tuned out most of what he was saying.  She couldn’t bear dreaming with him, and needing to mentally rehearse what she would say when the time came.  She watched the road ahead of her, trying to focus on the movement of the car instead of the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.  Eventually, the time came--she couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Jamie, we were crazy to think that this could work” she blurted out, more abruptly than she had intended.

“I know Claire, but we might just get away with this, it’s going great so far--”

“No Jamie, I mean, this isn’t going to work.  We can’t keep seeing each other like this, and what’s going to happen when you leave?”

“Have you not been listening to me for the past hour? Remember how I said I’d fly ta ya? What are you doing Claire?”

“We were stupid to jump in with an ocean separating us.  We can’t just fly back and forth whenever we feel like it.  It’s not realistic.  We’re living in a fantasy world, Jamie. We’re living in a dream and it’s time to wake up to reality.”

“Claire, I--”

“No, let me finish.  I know I’ve had a setback in my career, but I still want to be a doctor.  I’m not going to be able to spend any time with you when I do eventually start my residency, whether you fly here or not.  It’s not fair to you or me.  It’s not fair to you that I keep you away from your family.  It’s not fair to you that you have to sneak around and lose sleep on my account.  I’m doing this for you, believe it or not.”

Jamie’s hands gripped the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white, his jaw tightened and his face felt hot as something within him broke. “Claire, how could ye possibly be doing this for me when it isna what I want at all?” He reached for her, knowing it would be easier to talk to her if they touched.

Claire stared out the passenger window, arms crossed across her chest, shrinking herself as far away as she could. “Don’t touch me.” she hissed.  She knew she couldn’t do this if they touched, she’d be lost in him again, it was taking all her resolve to say her piece.

Jamie, ever the gentlemen, knew even something as small as a touch on the shoulder was something that needed consent, and reluctantly put his hand back on the steering wheel. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, staring out the window like I’m not your favorite.  God dammit Claire, it’s hell when I fight with you.”  He felt so frustrated, he couldn’t understand how less than twenty-four hours ago she confessed her love to him and now she was doing this. “This canna possibly be what you really want.  We belong together, we were meant to meet Claire, we were meant to be together. Ya really wanna leave?  Go ahead, try and leave me, try and tell me honestly that’s what you really want.”  He thought if he could scare her maybe she’d come to her senses and change her mind.

The tears were flowing freely from Claire's eyes now.  “Yes.” she said quietly.  “Jamie, I’m New York City, you’re the English countryside, we don’t belong together, we don’t fit together.  If this was meant to be we’d be on the same path, and we’re just not.”

You’re not New York City, you’re my Sassenach, you don’t belong to any place, that’s what I love about you, you just belong with me. Jamie thought to himself. “Claire, I can’t let you go that easy.  I love you so much, I’d die for you Claire.  If you want me to fly to you every week, I will, I swear to it, tell me what to do Claire.”

Claire’s resolve was weakening, he wasn’t supposed to keep loving her, to keep worshipping her as if she were worthy of his love. She only had one thing left to say, the confession she hoped she wouldn’t have to share. The last thing she wanted to ever tell him, but the thing that might finally make him leave.  “I’m not what you think I am Jamie.  I lied to you!”

“What are you talking about?”

“That first night we were together, I told you Frank broke up with me… he didn’t. I didn’t even talk to him. I used you.  I wanted you, I wanted to piss Frank off--I was bored and lonely and horny and I lied to you to get my way.  That’s the type of person I am, I’m not this wonderful person you’ve made me out to be.”

All he could do in reply was grunt a Scottish noise of disapproval. Her confession ignited a livid fire in him, he didn’t know what to feel or how to respond.  He would never have consented to sleeping with her that night knowing she still belonged to Frank. God, she was engaged to him for heaven’s sake. How could she let him do that, knowing how he felt about the situation. He had been under her spell, completely captivated by her, and he didn’t know if he fully regretted it. The final minutes of their car ride continued in heated silence. The air in the car was thick with something that felt like it would ignite and burn up fast if either of them uttered a word. 

Jamie dropped Claire off at the end of her street as she had requested earlier, she grabbed her weekender bag from the backseat and softly said “Goodbye, Jamie” before shutting the door, not daring herself to look at him as she did. She walked to her house as quickly as she could and collapsed to the ground sobbing as soon as she was inside her door. She knew it was for the best, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

----------

            Jamie drove away from her, glancing one last time at her figure in the rearview mirror in spite of himself.  He felt betrayed, upset, confused and aimless. Above all, he felt heartbroken. They had warned him about times like these--his father, his Godfather, even his brother-in-law.  “When you fall in love”, they said, “the road gets hard and you get lost in it” and Jamie was just now figuring out what they meant.  He had been following her with blind faith, doing anything she asked without a thought, sneaking around--even allowing her to cheat with him, albeit unknowingly. He was still too eager, too willing. How could he forgive himself for that?  How could he allow a woman to consume him so deeply, body, mind and soul? Worst of all, who was he without her, now that she had walked away?

He found himself pulling into the parking lot of a Catholic church.  He didn’t attend weekly anymore, nor did his family.  “The Lord kens how difficult it is ta get seven bairns dressed and ready for church and the Lord kens how much we love him.” his sister Jenny would say.  He knew he didn’t need the church building to love and worship God. He also recognized that the Roman Catholic Church was as flawed and marred by sin as the worst sinner, but he still found something comforting and spiritual about visiting. Something about the waxy smell of candles and the glow the stained glass cast on the cold marble interior, made him feel like he was connected to something ancient and holy, something bigger than himself--and in this moment he needed something bigger than himself to help him make sense of this situation. He dipped his hand in the font and crossed himself as he entered, strode to the pews, and genuflected before taking a seat in the middle of the empty church.  He rested his forehead on his clasped hands, elbows resting on the back of the pew in front of him, ready to speak to the only one who could listen.  The one who knew him best and could help him sort through all the raw emotions that weighed so heavily on him in this moment.

He allowed the tears he’d been holding back to flow freely as he prayed: Lord, please have mercy on my soul for I am a sinner. I thought that you had made her for me, I selfishly thought that we were meant to be together. I tried to be good, I tried to respect and honor her. With her I knew heaven was a thing, I went there when I touched her. Lord, I confess I coveted my neighbor’s wife--well, fiancée if we’re being technical about it--but you of course know these things. I beg you for forgiveness for that, and I’m afraid I am guilty of a bit more than just coveting. Please forgive me for the sins I did not know I was committing.  Lord, if you did not make her for me, please, please, take my desire for her from me, I beg of you.  I fear even if she is a false god that I am still sorely tempted to worship this love.  However, Lord, if you did in fact make her for me, and me for her, as I believe you are good enough to do, please Lord, bring her back to me.  Heal her wounds and bring her back to me, I swear to you I’ll care for her, honor her and never let her leave me again.  I’ll do whatever it takes Lord, please, just free me from this pain I feel.  It’s too much to bear without her.

[the--highlanders]

4. “Fine, I give up.”

on ao3.

The tell-tale bell’s toll of the TARDIS landing had barely echoed out when Jamie heard something at the door – which could only mean one of two things. On the one hand, the Doctor might have set the TARDIS to land on autopilot. But he did that so rarely, and complained all the way through doing it. Jamie could hardly imagine him doing it outside of an emergency, and certainly not without anyone around to whine to. Or, he could have landed the TARDIS and come skidding through the ship’s corridors at lighting speed to screech to a halt outside their bedroom door.

Jamie’s bets were on the latter. And sure enough, when the Doctor pushed open the door to step inside, he was looking even more ruffled than he normally did.

“Guess what,” he said breathlessly. It might have been excitement – he was sure it was, in part at least – but some of it had to be from how fast he had run. “Guess what I’ve done.”

Folding over the corner of the page, Jamie tossed his book onto the bedside table. “Ye managed tae get them to give us the night off?”

“Well, yes.” The Doctor reached out to him, and Jamie took his hands with a grin, letting himself be whisked to his feet and bundled out the door. “But that’s not all.”

“Dinner at the top of a mountain?”

He grinned wider when the smile faded a little from the Doctor’s face. “Ah. Now, I haven’t quite managed to sort that one out yet, but -”

“You’re workin’ on it,” Jamie finished with him. He had heard it enough times to have learnt it by heart. “You’ve been workin’ on it for three weeks.”

“And they haven’t given us enough time off for me to work on it,” the Doctor countered. “Besides, I have to pick the right mountain. We’ll manage it sooner or later.”

“Aye, I know.” Leaning into the Doctor’s side, Jamie disentangled one hand to wrap his arm around the Doctor’s shoulders and kiss the top of his head. “I’m no’ that fussed.” The Doctor’s hand crept up to find his again, pulling it further down over his chest. “So what’ve ye done?”

The Doctor twisted around to look up at him, half-stern and half-pleading. “You have to guess.”

Heaving out a reluctant groan, Jamie stared back at the Doctor equally pleadingly. All of time and space, and he expected him to guess where they had landed. It was probably somewhere he had never heard of, he thought, with some new treat that no rational person would expect him to guess. Ziplining over a forest of carnivorous plants, or fishing in a river made of metal, or something of that sort. Both of those had been real enough, as it turned out, but he would never have guessed them in a million years. Then again, the Doctor was hardly the first person he thought of if he imagined someone rational.

“Is it a planet?” he asked. The Doctor nodded. “Warm or cold?”

“Cold – well, both, really. But it’s cold where we’re going.”

“Mm.” That was something of a surprise, he thought. The Doctor was a creature of warmth, forever hogging blankets and fireplaces and Jamie’s own body heat. Always soaking it up like a sponge. And the worst part was that it hardly seemed to make any difference. No matter how warm their surroundings were, he would find a way of depositing his cold feet in Jamie’s lap, or slipping his cold fingers up his shirt to warm them in the mornings. For him to pick out a cold place, apparently of his own accord – well, it was unusual, to say the least. But perhaps he hadn’t really chosen, and the TARDIS had simply deposited them somewhere. Either way, it didn’t do much to help him narrow things down.

“We dinnae have tae go runnin’ around, do we?” he asked. “Only I’m fair tired after all that business with the big beastie earlier.”

“Well, then, you shouldn’t have assumed it was carnivorous when you were trying to throw food to it,” the Doctor said, sticking his nose in the air. “And you shouldn’t have ignored the fact that they’re highly territorial at that time of year.” Of course, he was conveniently forgetting that he had pelted away with just as much terror as Jamie had. It was not as if he had remembered that the trick was to stay still, either. But that was always the way of it. “Here we are.” Steering Jamie into the console room, he pulled him to a halt in front of the scanner switch, though he tapped Jamie’s hands away when he reached out towards it. “Not yet. You have to guess.”

“Aye, aye, I’m guessin’.” What more was there to ask? “Do I know the place we’re goin’?”

“Yes, you do. Rather well, I’d say.”

His heart leapt in his chest. It always did, when the Doctor said something like that. It was only very rarely right, but that never seemed to dampen its enthusiasm. “Are we in Scotland?”

The Doctor laughed at that, a little apologetically, like he had known what Jamie’s mind would jump to before he had even said anything. “Not quite, I’m afraid,” he said, still chuckling. “But close. I’ll put it on the list for next time, shall I?”

“I thought it was always on the list.” Searching around for what they could possibly be doing near Scotland – but not in it – he settled on the obvious answer. “Are we goin’ tae see Ben an’ Polly?”

“We’re a little bit late for that, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” If they were too late for Ben and Polly – well, then, he never stood a chance of guessing it. The Doctor seemed to forget, sometimes, that even after all their years of travelling together, he still didn’t know everything. It was nice, in a way, to have the Doctor be so confident in his knowledge. Even if it was a bit frustrating at times like this. “Och, fine,” he said at last. “I give up. Where are we?”

It didn’t really matter, he knew, whether he guessed right or not. In fact, he suspected that the Doctor would have been rather disappointed if he really had managed to guess where they were. What mattered was the drama of it all. And now the Doctor was fluffing himself up like a bird, sweeping his coattails out like a magician flourishing before a magic trick. There was nothing the Doctor liked better, Jamie knew, than a chance to show off.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial, like he was sharing some great secret. “To the great London frost fair of twenty-two fifty. The first of its kind since the nineteenth century.”

“Didn’t we go tae one of these before?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said, a little impatiently. “Yes, we did. But, ah – that was several centuries before this, Jamie. Think about where we were before – and then add six hundred years’ worth of technological change, social change, expansion into space, contact with alien species – it’s an almost unrecognisable spectacle.” Flitting around the TARDIS’ central console, he tapped Jamie on the nose as he passed, making him scrunch his face up and smile. “The first time in hundreds of years that the Thames froze over enough for them to hold a festival on the ice. Imagine the excitement! Two hundred years spent repairing the Earth’s ozone layer, and humanity was rewarded with -” Reaching around Jamie, he flicked the scanner switch. “This.”

For a moment, the screen was so black that Jamie wondered whether the thing had broken down somehow. It would be typical enough for some part of the TARDIS to break, right when they were trying to use it. Especially after all the fiddling the Doctor had been doing to try and ferret out the Time Lords’ interference. He swore that he always left the ship intact – but ever since the food machine had started turning out seedlings instead of vegetables, Jamie had never quite believed it.

Or maybe they were in a darkened room, he supposed. Someone’s basement, something like that. The Time Lords had certainly helped the Doctor to land in roughly the time and place he wanted, but they had not entirely put a stop to his parking mishaps.

Only – there were things on the screen. White specks that he had first passed off as dust, but which were now growing larger and larger, spinning towards them. The screen was grainy enough that it was difficult to tell what they were, but as they came in closer, they started to resolve into something more recognisable. Asteroids, hurtling straight towards them. Things always looked slow in space, Jamie knew, with nothing to measure their movement against. A spaceship could go fast enough to cross an entire galaxy in half an hour and still look like it was travelling at a snail’s pace. So for these asteroids to look like they were travelling fast… He shuddered to think about exactly how fast they were.

“Doctor?” he said, grasping at the shoulders of the Doctor’s jacket nervously. “Shouldn’t we move?”

“… all along the edge of the river,” the Doctor was still going on, “hundreds of thousands of people visited within the first week -” He paused, peering at Jamie. “What do you mean?” Jamie just shrugged towards the scanner. “Oh! Oh, my word, yes.” Scurrying off around the console again, he flicked what seemed like every button and lever he passed. “Goodness me.” The central column began to rise and fall, the TARDIS wheezing back into flight. “Good gracious.” One of the asteroids was almost on top of them now, moving in to take up the whole scanner screen just seconds before the view turned grey and static-y. Pressing one hand over his chest, the Doctor drew a deep breath in and out. “The TARDIS can survive anything, of course,” he said, though he sounded less confident than Jamie would have liked. “But, ah – she doesn’t like it, do you, dear?” He rubbed the edge of the console, and the TARDIS chittered back a complaint. “Gives her indigestion.”

Jamie’s own heart was still pounding, but the static on the scanner settled him enough that he began to laugh. It was just typical, really, that the Time Lords would spend all that effort trying to make sure the TARDIS could get to where it needed to go, and the Doctor would still find some way of ending up in the wrong place. “So,” he said, “the great London frost fair, eh?”

The Doctor scowled at him. “Hush, you.”

“Ye said it would be a spectacle, I ‘spose. I liked the bit with the asteroids.”

“Hush.”

“So.” Sprawling down into a chair pushed against one of the walls, Jamie grinned up at the Doctor. “Are we goin’, or not?”

[popculturebuffet]

Legend of the Three Caballeros: Labyrinth and Repeat Review (Commissioned by WeirdKev27)

Saludos Amigos! We’re back on the Ride of the Three Cablleros as I intend to knock this wonderful series out at a steady cliip, and since I THOUGHT the premire was a two parter, it still ends on a cliffhanger but it’s too early to tell if this is just normal for this series like say Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts, where it’s really more one continuous story, or just the end of the pilot. For now with all the exposition out of the way from part 1, we can jump right into the thick of things where we picked off.  PREVIOUSLY ON LEGEND OF THE THREE CABLLEROS: Donald had an enormously shitty birthday, loosing his job, his house and his nightmarish harpy.. er his girlfriend, all in one day. Things went up a bit though when he inhereted a Cabana belonging to his ancestor Clinton Coot and met two new pals: Ladies Man Jose Caricoca and loveable weirdo like myself Pancito Romero A Lot of Other Names Gonzales. The three soon had a yard sale with the various treasures inside the cabana and got an offer for a million dollars for the cabana and all inside from local waiter’s nightmare Baron Von Sheldgoose, whose deal includes a jewel incrusted golden atlas. Upon finding it our boys were attacked by a human goddess who popped out of the book and that’s where we pick up. 

Good. Let’s begin. So Xandra, said goddess, is holding our heroes at arrow point with their attempts to defuse the situation falling flat and their attempt to understandably flee by claming to be the cabs failing pretty much immidatley. We do get some good gags including Jose accidently telling Xandra she smells like feta cheese in greek. But lucky for our boys before Xandra can do a murder on them Donald accidently shuts the book.. and finds out she disappears when he does that. Cue our loveable idiots opening and closing the book for a while, easily one of the best bits of the episode. I will say while the pilot was pretty good comedy wise this episode solidfies how funy the series is. The series is at times a barrage of wonderful jokes and set pieces and it is awesome to behold.  Also a breif thing before we get back to the plot... Xandra is indeed human, or at least looks like one. Normally i’m against this as honestly Ducks just mesh better with Dogfaces, other birds and other anthromorphic animals. It just works better and is more consitent to have a world that’s simply anthro animals and non-anthro animals. But.. it works for me here since so the human characters.. are all gods. While i’d of PREFFERED them to still be non humans, like Ducktales does, it works since she’s not really a human but a god and thus it comes off more as her being something inherently diffrent and otherworldly, but something that’s not so distracting it pulls focus away from the rest of the cast, just otherworldly to our heroes.

So while our boy screw with the goddess who you know, tried to murder them for flimsy reasons without stopping to ask why three strangers look exactly like her friends, we get to know the triplets better. I also get a better bead on what voices Jessica is using. May is using Jessica’s Lynn voice, just a touch higher since May isn’t a preteen, while April, the one in yellow, uses the voice she’d later use for candace. Junes is a BIT like Lucy, but with obviously way more energy and emotion. But it’s clear the three are smart confident and willing to run a scheme, and easily get a thousand bucks out of sheldgoose for the spooky purple ring he saw last episode in a really chortleriffic bit where May serves as an auctioneer while her sisters up the price by bidding thus tricking Sheldgoose into paying. They also get past him having a claim on it as he dosen’t have a receipt or anything else other than a verbal contract with Donald, one that wasn’t even complete since the boys hadn’t brought out the atlas, so they were within their rights to fleece him for the ring.. even if him getting it at all is going to backfire, they had no way of knowing that so it’s whatever.  Back in the house the boys have apparently done the  book thing on Xandra about a hundred times, and Xandra FINALLY grabs the book. At least our boys are bonding. But while threatening them again , she finds out they don’t know what happened.. and recongiing clinton int he painting realizess time has passed, these boys are her boys decendants, and perhaps some explination is in order since she’s lost in a strange world. 

So after unveling a bookmark that allows her to project out of the book without being trapped, Xandra gives us our backstory: long ago, in a distant land I Aku master of darkness unleashed an unspeakable evil... wait sorry wrong narration. Long ago Xandra was guardian of the Atlas, which is explained to be the key to various magical hot spots around the world where various myths come from. Things were fine.. until the evil Lord Felldrake decided to screw it all up, binding Xandra to the book and using it to cause chaos and try and take over the world. All was lost till the Cabs stopped him, freed Xandra best they could, and then journed the world with them till she tragically was shut inside the book and seemingly lost. For whatever reason Clinton never opened the book, we’ll presumibly find out later, and well.. here she is.  Xandra is voiced by, unsuprisingly given this project’s all-star cast, voice acting vetran and modern legend of the buisness Grey DeLisle, also credited as Grey Griffith for a time. And like tress she has a rather massive and awesome resume, which naturally i’ll be going into since usually I go into shows mid way and don’t get to do this: Grey’s notable rolls include Daphne Blake ever since What’s New, Scooby Doo?, Lor from Weekenders, still not on plus and I will not let that fact go till I get a valid reason why not, Crazy Cat Lady and Lizzie Divine, Mandy, Doctor Ghastly, Kimiko Tohomiko, Sam Manson, Frankie Foster, Azula, Riley Daring, Freida Suarez, Black Canary (Brave and the Bold), Fire, Dr. Holiday, Aya, Master Nadia, Magpie, Moon Butterfly, Jackie Lynn Thomas, Lola Loud, Lana Loud, Lily Loud, and Martin Prince following Russi Taylors tragic passing, just to give you an idea of how long, varied and wonderful her career and range is. And to give a certain person paying for this review an idea of some of the shows i’m familiar with. Moving on.  Despite learning of their family legacy of heroics, our heroes are planning to still sell the book given Donald and Jose are poor, and Panchito’s giving in to peer pressure. Seriously Camil is already the MVP of the series, easily the best part of it and it’s a shame he wasn’t brought back for Ducktales, especially since by season 2 frank was aware of legend and Jamie had been on the show before. But Xandra offers them a life of adventure and heroisim.. and when that fails points out theirs treasure and the boys agree to hear her out.  So after showing some off Xandra takes them to a Labyrinth to retreive three mystic amulets, and goads Donald into going in by challenging his Ego after he tries to refuse to go. Panchito is naturally fully on board with a dangerous adventure and Jose is talked into it after Xandra pulls an explination why she can’t go out of her firmly toned ass that theirs a mystic barrier which he buys. So while Xandra conjurs a chair and a coconut drink to relax and wait to see if they die or not, our boys head in.  They find a massive, beautiful labyrnith and a large house containing a minotaur. Sadly i’ts not Ferdinand aka the Minotaur who worked as Wonder Woman’s chef, cooking up damn good vegetarian goodies for her at the Thymsicarian Embasy. All of this is real things that happened and all are things that should be in the next fucking movie. Seriously as much of a mess as Wonder Woman 1984 is, i’d buy a ticket in a heartbeat caution to teh wind if it was announced he was being adapted for it. He’s also very smart, kind and loyal if you were wondering. Get yourself a man like feridnand if your into men. 

Anyways Jose once again tries to speak a languge, and thus we get about a minute of Eric Bauza saying the word moo... sometimes... most times really.. I REALLY, REALLY love my job. But with the bull pissed off and going super sayian god super sayian, there’s only one thing left for our heroes to do...

So they do and we get a great gag where Donald, when deciding wether to split up as to lower the possiblity of him getting hit, has TWO shoulder devils, because inside every man is a battle between good and evil that evil usually wins while dancing and singing a jaunty toon over good’s grave. 

But it naturally backfires and the two devils tell him he’s on his own. So we get a fun chase sequence with the three before Donald finally decides fuck it we can fight back. Noticing Panchito’s talent with a rope, he has him rope and ride the Minotaur which he does, then uses Jose’s hankerchief to lure the minotaur and beat him. It’s a gorgeous, fun action sequence that shows off the series is as cool as it is fricking hilaroius.  So our heroes find the amulets, a blue one for donald, a red for panchito and green for jose, and put em on, proudly telling Xandra. It’s then revealed the Minotaur.. is an old friend of hers and this was just a test to see if they could work together and you know.. not die. They can, and she’s proud and plesantly suprised by how good they are.  So our heroes return home, Xandra storring the atlas on her back, and all three suitably impressed. Their further impressed when they find a hidden lair with more treasure, and three sets of armor, their ancestors old armor which as it did in the teaser at the start of the series, looks REALLY fucking cool and comes from various civlizations. Just.. lovely to look at. Our heroes pose.. and the nieces find them, wonder what’s going on, and mention Sheldgoose at the door, apparnelty not phased to meet a god or that their surrogate uncle has a hlemet.  Sheldgoose has come to offer the money.. and it’s REALLY tempiting. Donald has lost EVERYTHING remember, this money could help win Daisy back, get him a fancy house still in new quackmore.. even a third of a million is still enough to set someone as humble and easy to please as donald for life. But.. it’s here where this episode succeds where the premire fell. By this point we’ve SEEN Donald’s weaknsses: he’s greedy, short sighted and selfish. So it makes it THAT MUCH more impactful when he does the right thing, tearing up the check and refusing to sell out his legacy. Sure this could make his life better.. but it’s not worth his soul, his new friends or the world’s safety. He may not be able to get Daisy back or a new house.. but he’d NEVER be able to repalce his new friends, his legacy, or his wonderful new home.  Sheldgoose naturally throws a fit and vows vengance and what have you... and just as naturally gets dragged away by his ring. Like the boys he’s brought to a mystic secret chamber by a family heirloom.. but unlike the boys we get a wonderful sequence of him being slammed into things while Wayne Knight makes delightful noises.

But Sheldgoose finds thanks to the ring he was drawn to a styigan well leading to a talking staff... Felldrake surivived, if trapped in the staff.. and  he’s Baron’s ancestor, himself a sheldgoose who urges his decsendant to take the staff, accept his destiny and thus Sheldgoose revels in his new power as he and feldrake summon Feldrake’s loyal minon.  

So we end on Donald happy. His day was crappy to start.. but while he lost his house, his shrew and his job.. he’s found a new purpose saving the world, an ew life of adventure.. and forever friends in his two new amigos and goddess mentor. He’s finally happy. OR he is for a a second before Feldrake’s minon emerges from it’s sarcophagus and runs off with donald. TO BE CONTINUED. Not doing the jojo gag this time. 

 Before we go on one last cast member; Kevin Micheal Richardson is Felldrake, and he is unsuprisingly awesome and like Grey has a long and storied career.. you know the drill by now: He’s voiced  the Narrator for Clerks the Animated Series, Robert Hawkins (Static’s Dad), Dark Laser, Numbah 5′s dad who was a VERY poorly aged refrence to Bill Cosby, Mammoth, Trigon, Armagedddroid (Something I never realized holy shit good on him), Captain Gantu, The Joker, Pandabubba, Principal Lewis, Schnitzel, Tombstone, Omega Supreme, Cleavland Junior (They drove a dump truck full of money up to his house he’s not made of stone), Mal Duncan, Doctor Fate, Man Ape, Kilowogg, Sheriff Blubs, William Viceroy , Mr. Gus, Rhombulous, Shredder (TMNT 2012), Rosie Rosevelt, Coach Mitchell (Seriously watch Milo Murphy’s Law, we need a season 3), and Dot’s Zit. As you can tell the guy is VERY good at villians so he was a natural choice. 

Final Thoughts: This was a huge improvment. With the miserable parts of the pilot long gone this episode is a fun, breezy adventure that sets up our heroes, the series tone, and our bad guy some more while giving us tons of great gags. I highly look forward to whatever comes next and cannot wait for the next episode. Until then, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

[demigodofhoolemere]

Things have been hectic but one thing I have accomplished is actually finally finishing the Second Doctor era that I’ve literally spent most of a decade very slowly getting through. Can’t believe it’s taken this long but things just always came up that kept Classic Who going at a snail’s pace. But FINALLY my sister and I finished The War Games a couple of weeks ago because even though we had a busy move going on we’d have felt dumb if we didn’t finish the 60s in the same house we started it in. I remembered that I used to do appreciation posts when I’d lose a companion or a Doctor so in keeping with tradition I’m writing a few thoughts.

Ahhh, Two! How I’m going to miss Two. I’ve had him for so long that not having him just feels strange. Such a wonderful Doctor, I’ve loved his personality and his presence so much. Pat played the part so perfectly. I knew in advance that the regeneration would be caused by the Time Lords forcing it, but it’s so horrible to see, this wonderful sweet fun man get essentially executed and forced to start over as a different version of himself. I really loved The War Games, I just wish it didn’t have to end that way :( I hope more of his stories get found, because his era is such a happy place for me and I’d give an arm and a leg to get to see what’s missing.

And Jamie! My dear sweet Jamie. Forever one of the best companions there’s ever been and ever will be. It’s weird not having him now either since he’s been here about as long as Two himself. I love his loyalty and his spirit so much. I’m definitely going forward with the season 6b thing because I refuse to accept that Jamie would have to go on the rest of his life not remembering all the things he did with his best friend, or having ever known Victoria or Zoe. Truly one of the most heartbreaking companion exits, for him to have so much taken from him.

And Zoe! The ending might have been the worst for poor Zoe, she had grown so much and had a far more fulfilled life with the Doctor than she had on the Wheel, and now she has all of that stripped away. I’m going to miss her presence so much, she was really a special companion. What I’d give to see her come back in the modern series! I know Wendy would still nail it.

Honorable mention for Lieutenant Carstairs and Lady Jennifer for being semi-companions through The War Games and winning my heart very easily.

And now I’m in the middle of Spearhead from Space, so with my goodbyes shall be some hellos…

[chrisswearicho]

My AO3 account BTW guys and links to my stories! They're all Doctor Who fics.

1) My Past Come Home. My Future Lead The Way

Summary: “Right.” Rory finally seemed to react, shaking his head a little as his hands flailed for effect, “right sorry. So I’ve gone to sleep, got woken up by the TARDIS going crazy and now we’re in a future TARDIS with a future Doctor who’s also a woman? I’m getting this right?”

Characters:  13th Doctor, 11th Doctor, 12th Doctor, 10th Doctor, 9th Doctor, 8th Doctor, 7th Doctor, 6th Doctor, 5th Doctor, 4th Doctor, 3rd Doctor, 2nd Doctor, 1st Doctor, Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair, Graham O'brien, Bill Potts, Nardole, River Song, Amy Pond, Rory Williams, Donna Noble, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness, Lucie Miller, Ace, Peri Brown, Tegan Jovanka, Vislor Turlough, Sarah Jane Smith, Jo Grant, Jamie McCrimmin, Zoe Heriot, Ian Chesterton, Barbara Wright, Susan Foreman, The Master(Dhawan), The Master (Gomez) /Missy.

Chapters: 26/26

2) A Change of Mind

Summary: “What would your little friends think if they knew?”

“Who cares?” she scoffed with a roll of her eyes, “dropped them off at home. Good riddance as far as I’m concerned. This is between me and you. They were the Doctor’s ‘little friends’, not mine.”

“Who’re you then? If you’re not the Doctor.”

“Dunno yet,” she shrugged, seemingly pleased, however, that he was finally accepting that she wasn’t quite the Doctor, “I haven’t decided. You know,” she huffed out a heavy breath, “you’re wasting so much good running away time by asking all these questions. Maybe by the time I’ve caught you, you know, if you run away right now, I’ll have decided. Come on.”

><><><><

An alternate ending to my story 'My Past Come Home. My Future Lead The Way'. This will probably not make much sense if you haven't read that first if i'm honest. It's the alt ending where 13 becomes the Valeyard!

Characters: 13th Doctor(Valeyard), The Master(Dhawan), Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair & Graham O’Brien.

Chapters: 2/2

3) Fear

Summary: “You think that I was some hard done by hero, like the Doctor?” the Not Doctor’s tone was taunting as she smirked at him, “You think they wiped my memory because of something they’d done?” she laughed suddenly, throwing her head back as though that was the most hilarious thing she’d ever heard. The Master’s hearts dropped to his stomach; he’d already put this much together but having it confirmed made him swallow nervously.

“So… why was your mind wiped?”

“Well, they couldn’t kill me. There’s no limit on my ability to regenerate. They couldn’t keep me trapped. No prison could hold me. But then they figured out a way to stop me. Ingenious actually, I will give them that. They simply caught me long enough to erase me, or they thought they had.”

Characters: 13th Doctor (Valeyard), the Master (Dhawan), Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair, Graham O’Brien, River Song.

Sequel to A Change of Mind

4) Escape

Summary: “I know you said eyebrows Bill, but that’s just ridiculous!” The Doctor in the bowtie smirked as they all came to a stop across from one another, glancing from his future self to Bill who just rolled her eyes with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

“They were making up for lost time. Better to have too much than none at all.” The Eyebrows Doctor deadpanned and raised an impressive eyebrow of his own to his past self.

“Ugh!” the Doctor in the bowtie jerked back in clear offence, hand flying to his own eyebrows for a moment as his face scrunched up in annoyance to his future self, words stumbling around in his mouth as he tried to come up with a retort. “Shut up,”

Characters: 13th Doctor, 12th Doctor, 11th Doctor, 10th Doctor, Rose Tyler, Amy Pond, Rory Williams, Bill Potts, Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair & Graham O'brien.

Chapters: 14/14

Part 1 of a series that will continued next week anyway 😂

5) Search

Summary: “Time Lord society was, as I was taught, created by three people. Rassilon, the great engineer, The Omega, the mind behind Gallifrey’s scientific advancements and-” she cut herself off suddenly, realisation dawning on her face and her entire body seemed to jolt with the force of the realisation that occurred to her, “Oh!”

“Doctor? What is-” Yaz started but she was quickly cut off by the Doctor who flapped her hands at her desperately.

“Yaz! I love you but shut up a minute. Let me think.” The human obediently fell quiet and they all watched as the Doctor began to pace suddenly, her eyes still wide before she dropped onto the steps leading further into the TARDIS, the realisation giving away to shock as she mumbled out her next words, “I’m the Other.”

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

SEQUEL TO ESCAPE.

Now armed with the information that she knew Rassilon and Omega, back in the times of the Great Vampires, and even before, the Doctor knows what she must do. She needs to find Rassilon. She needs to find Omega. She needs to find out who she was and all it is that she forgot.

Characters: 13th Doctor, Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair, Graham O’Brien, Rassilon, Omega.

Chapters: 10/?

6) This Is Where It Gets Complicated...

Summary: “Doctor!” He called out again, garnering a few looks from passers-by but he ignored them for now and began moving back the way they’d came, hoping to find either her or at least his grandson and Yaz if his initial search yielded no results, “Doctor?!”

“Oh hello! Hi? What is it?” Graham blinked, head turning at a male voice coming from his left and his frantic push through the crowds came to a stop as he looked at him, puzzled as to why he’d responded. The man was young looking, had dark hair that flopped over his face and looked as though he’d just stopped running his hands through it. He was dressed like someone three times his age in a tweed jacket and bowtie, but he pulled it off well enough, Graham supposed.

“Oh, sorry mate no. Not you, I’m looking for a friend of mine, they keep wandering off. The Doctor.” Graham didn’t stay still for longer than he needed to, waving the young man off as kindly as he could as he started walking again. He missed the slight grin that appeared on the guy’s face, but he definitely realised it when the man was suddenly at his side, helping him move through the crowds.

Characters: 13th Doctor, 11th Doctor, Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair & Graham O'brien.

Chapters: 3/3 complete

7) Start Of Time

Summary:The Doctor falls from the TARDIS into Sheffield. But not in the 21st Century. Back in the 1970s where UNIT haven't been expecting their scientific adviser back after he regenerated and had his exile lifted. So who's this strange woman that's shown up talking about the TARDIS and searching for a Doctor?

An AU of The Woman Who Fell To Earth where the 13th Doctor gets tossed out in the 1970s and finds UNIT rather than her fam.

Characters: 13th Doctor, Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge Stewart, Mike Yates, John Benton.

Chapters: 4/?

8) The Chain

Summary: “Who am I?” he exclaimed indignantly, hands flying about everywhere as he spoke, his head turning to his two companions as if to look to them for back up in the indignation and then he spun back, “I’m the Doctor. So, who is it? Which one of you said that you were me?” They stared for another few seconds, all not knowing what to do before Graham reached out a hand and hit his fist twice against the large metal piping that ran up the side of the room and up through the ceiling above. It gave off loud metal clangs and he called upwards, his voice hesitant.

“Uh, Doc?” there was a thump and a curse from up above, the Doctor no doubt dropping something and her voice rang through, echoing through the metal chamber up above that she’d had to crawl into the look into the problem.

“What is it? I’m a bit busy.” The man in the bowtie paused suddenly, glancing upwards at the hole in the roof where the metal grating cover had at one point been sat. Now just a hole into masses of wiring and ventilation and mechanical shafts.

Characters: 13th Doctor, 11th Doctor, Amy Pond, Rory Williams, Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair & Graham O'brien.

Chapters: 1/?

9) It Means The World

Summary: Then she realised the heavy silence that had followed her question. She found it strange, her conversation with Jo so far had been light hearted in nature so it was a big shift for it to suddenly feel like this. She looked away from the book shelf she’d been perusing through and back to Jo who was staring at her with sad, pity filled, eyes. The Doctor felt her hearts drop to her stomach and dread spread throughout her body at that expression. She knew it far too well.

“Doctor...” Jo started, her tone gentle, but the Doctor cut her off with a shake of her head.

“No.” The word came out whispered and Jo’s face only scrunched up further in guilt and pity.

Characters: 13th Doctor, Jo Grant, Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair & Graham O'brien. Sarah Jane Smith (mentioned)

Chapters: 2/2 complete

10) 3rd Best Enemy

Summary: “Who is your greatest enemy?”

“The Daleks.” The words fell from her mouth before she could stop them and for a moment the room fell silent. The Fam all took clear obvious steps back as the Master whirled around to face her, his victorious grin giving way to clear offence. They were trapped in a truth field, not exactly like she could’ve lied to him if she’d tried. She did feel bad though, just a tiny bit, his ego might not be able to take this. She took a few steps to the left so she was between him and her friends and waited for him to splutter out a response finally.

Characters: 13th Doctor & The Master(Dhawan)

Complete

11) Can't Let Go

Summary: “I’m sorry I keep dragging you into my messes.” Jack’s gaze snaps back over to her, confused at her words, and even more confused at how she looks down at her feet. Her expression ashamed. She’s sat on the floor of this cell, one knee held against her chest by her arm, the other leg spread out in front of her. He frowns. He wonders for a second how the Doctor hasn’t figured out yet that he would follow her anywhere. Always has. Always will. He casts one last quick glance out the bars of the cell into the beautiful emptiness of space before he turns and moves until he can drop down next to her. Close enough that his arm almost brushes her shoulder but not enough to actually be touching.

Characters: 13th Doctor & Jack Harkness

Complete

12) Welcome Home

Summary:Instead of that though he reached for her face with one hand while the other slid around her comparatively smaller waist so he could tug her closer to him until her body was pressed up against the hard line of his body and his mouth was almost instantly on hers before she could even utter a greeting. She really should’ve seen this coming. She let him have this one, hands resting on his upper arms, as long as he didn’t push his luck. They hadn’t seen each other in a long while.

Eventually there was a loud, obvious, cough from across the console and they pulled apart, both turning to look at her Fam who were all staring at the pair with varying degrees of embarrassment or confusion.

Characters: 13th Doctor, Jack Harkness, Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair & Graham O'brien.

Complete

13) Threatening to Stab? Not That Bad

Summary: “Threatening to stab someone isn’t actually stabbing them. There’s a difference.”

Characters: 12th Doctor, The Master(Gomez) / Missy & Nardole.

Complete

[confessionsofaromanticidiot]

Lord Voldemort - The reason why you should never ignore red flags in a relationship!

Disclaimer J.K. Rowling please don’t sue me but yes, we did give my ex the nickname of the evil villain from Harry Potter. Let’s call him Jamie. Jamie had every red flag known to man but me stupidly ignored them all as only a deluded emotionally unstable woman can. Again, I look back on this relationship and wonder a few things:

1.       How the fuck did it last five years?

2.       Why did I put up with so much bullshit?

3.       How did I ignore every red flag thrown in my face?

I guess, even though Jamie was a red flag from day one, it was not always bad. Originally when we first start dating, I was actually the one that asked him out. Mistake number one, actually going on this date with the douche bag but as I said it was not always the horrendous shit show our last year together was. We ended up in a relationship for five years, it could not have been that terrible. He did tell me he loved me first, I said it back, but I didn’t really mean it at the time, but I was absolutely obliterated drunk and it just came out of my mouth.

Lesson number one people: NEVER SAY YOU LOVE SOMEONE IF YOU DON’T MEAN IT! I have had since Jamie and I’s break up almost two years ago, had at least two men said they love me, but I was not ready probably for good reason I suppose looking back on it now. (Including an extremely sexy French Doctor but we will come back to that train wreck later).

In five years, I faked nearly every orgasm yes, I know guys we aren’t meant to this, sex was not our strong point. I always was a very sexual person, but this battered my sexual confidence in a tiny box, tied an anchor to it and dumped it off a ship somewhere near the Bermuda triangle never to be seen again or so I thought. But he was kind and sweet, so I just sucked it up. I decided that this was a sacrifice I had to make because every other aspect of our relationship was so blissful (I am laughing as I type this). I kind of saw him as a fixer upper, he had a great job, family where AMAZING but lacked something to this day i cannot put my finger on it. He was never satisfied with anything in his life was always pushing for more or looking to others to see what they where doing in order to compare his life? I guess, I made the age old mistake of thinking I could change him. Also mistake number two, if he was never satisfied with the things in his life, why did I think I would be any different?    

The point of this section is guess is not to bitch about my ex but to teach people not to ignore all the RED FUCKING FLAGS. You will notice I make this mistake over and over in relationships but to a lesser extent (I’ll get there I promise), but I have also learnt from this relationship to cut and run when it feels wrong because guess what? If it feels wrong, it most likely is wrong and you trust your intuition a little more.

So, some examples of Jamie’s glaring RED FLAGS, that I made excuses for

1.       First night he met my best friend, we went to a night club and he hit on another girl in front of us and when I confronted him, he left us there.

2.       Suffered with Anxiety, not saying that this a red flag as I suffer too but he had a dependency on alcohol to get through social events but more often than not got completely obliviated. Which meant some of the things he said or did to me when drunk where forgotten about and therefore ignored or I was told it didn’t happen that he would never do such a thing because he loved me.

3.       I have PCOS (Yes, I know I am barrel of laughs right), at one stage when I was 27, I was told I could not have children (Which also turned out to be a misdiagnoses). I was devastated it was as though part of me died but he ignored and went drinking. Came home locked and woke me up had a massive argument after I had spent the best part of a day crying as though someone died. He did not seem to care.

4.    I was on HRT (hormone replacement therapy) and I couldn’t really drink but yet dragged me to the pub every time and or was dubbed BORING because I didn’t want to go.

5.  SEX became non-existent (Not that it was that great anyway but.._). Mainly due to the fact he was getting it from somewhere else for the last 7 months of our relationship.

6. Our last valentine day together, he used his brother as excuse to go have a night out with the other me in a hotel. Sidebar Jamie’s brother suffered with mental illness and used the fact that if something was to happen to him on our wedding day (Thank Christ that never happened), I would tell him to help him to go to cheat on me the sick bastard.

7.  Point above continued, the kicker the Friday after I covered his room with tea lights and tried to make it romantic because we missed valentine’s day. He came home drunk (Feel the trend) and had a massive argument with me. Gut punch hadn’t even written my Valentine’s day card three days after the actual day!

8.  When we EVENTUALLY broke up, he compared me to sturdy house, that’s amazing but how do you know you want that house and not the house next door! (Rolling my eyes as I type this)

If I look back on it now, point one with my emotional maturity I would have told him to Fuck right off and never see him again. Right but I was 25, had been cheated on before so was emotionally vulnerable. I was stupid, I left that relationship  with a lack of self confidence and he was cute so I looked past a lot.  As we got older, we changed and became really different people but neither of us recognized it. Well, we did but neither of us wanted to be the bad guy, so it got ignored for another year.

Now, I am not excusing the fact I ignored it too, I should have cut and run on one of the above points not allowing it get to points 6 through 8 and there were others also not mentioned. But when you are in relationship that you are constantly making excuses for people’s behavior, it becomes your default. Never do this, never let something in a relationship become a default behavior. Due to the fact someone’s bad behavior becomes normalized, you begin to believe this is just the way we are but guess what it is not how you are!!

Also, I had my part to play, I am not angel let’s be honest a relationship does not go to shit from one person being a dick head. It takes two Tango! I gave up trying to have sex with him and bought a vibrator. It gave me more orgasms anyway. When I stopped trying bar once or twice, he didn’t even try. He will never admit it, but he stopped being attracted to me physically, to be honest I don’t blame him for it. I was put on two courses of steroids prior to starting the HRT, I got to my heaviest weight and my own mental health started to decline. I would not look in mirror and who wants to be with someone that is constantly jabbing themselves with needles or crying because your jeans don’t fit anymore. Plus, I am not going to sugar coat this in any way I was an absolute CUNT on HRT. Mood swings alone was enough to make some of my family members stay clear never mind anyone else.

Does this excuse in anyway what he did? Of course not, but if I was the person I am today, point one might have given a second chance not to be himself basically and when that eventually happened, I would have left. Now, at one point I was so duped that I had a life planned for us but again as we got older our plans became very drastically different. Personally, my own life experiences made me want different things and I went through a lot of stuff that no person not just a woman should go through in their lifetime. But I matured much quicker even than some of my friends, so we were naturally at odds. 

When we eventually broke up again it never really was a final argument either, I just knew I never wanted to see him ever. I realized that I cried once and it was more out of anger that he had used his depressed brother as an excuse to cheat on me. That was all that annoyed me about the entire thing, when I finally removed myself from the situation, I felt like I could breathe again. 

Learning out comes, never ignore red flags, or try to identify them enough in the relationship which can be hard to do because of the honeymoon phase. Never make excuse for someone’s bad behaviors, let them live with the consequences. Be the bad guy, if you are not feeling a relationship anymore, for god sake leave before someone gets hurt. To be honest, Jamie gifted me a get out of jail card by cheating on me to leave without acknowledging part of the fault it was all on him. But no, I gave up too the cheating was just the golden ticket I needed to get out of a toxic relationship. Never allow your emotions to be manipulated, in the manner I did it took a very long time after this relationship for me to actually fully and wholly trust a man with my heart. 

It’s sad really, that it came to this. If one of us had of been braver there would not have been so much damage not caused at all. But I guess my experience and reflection has brought me to you, my only hope is by documenting my mistakes, some of you may not go down the same path.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Unforgotten- Chapter 3

Previous chapters on AO3       A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Chapter Three

Jamie dragged through his rounds at the hospital bleary-eyed and stumbling to his office, where he was scrutinized by his office manager. If he had been coherent he would have noticed this look as a first warning, he was out of control. Instead, he locked himself into the office and sat back in his chair to doze until called for his first patient.

He knew it was time to pull back, get more sleep, stop acting like a teenager with a new dose of testosterone short-circuiting his brain. He remembered his call to an old buddy, John Grey, with an offer to get re-acquainted. It was an attempt to strangle his broken heart by finding something, anything, to make Claire Beauchamp fade away so he could be happy again.

“John! I havna seen ye in a long time, wanted to call and catch up with you. Are ye free for a drink on Friday night?”

“Give me an hour, and I will be.”

An hour later Jamie read a message from John, “see you Friday night at Mickey’s, can’t wait.”

It was too easy to slip into a new existence, a comfortable camaraderie with an old friend who knew all the hot spots and fun places to be on the weekend. The two friends were deadly together. Both strikingly handsome in different ways, both hungry, and both drew women where ever they went. Life was going by so fast for Jamie there wasn’t time to check in with the toothless twin in his head, so he ignored him.

He had begged off Jenny’s invitation for dinner so many times she was getting huffy about it. She left a scathing text message that drove Jamie to cancel with John next weekend. Either that or his sister would come into town and drag him home.

Driving to Lallybroch with a great bottle of whisky made him happy he was going home for the evening. It was late July and he saw groups of children playing as he turned down his street, bringing memories back of doing the same with his faithful friends. The estate looked great with all the fields growing full and healthy, almost ready for the harvest.

Jenny came out of the kitchen door, arms wide for her brother, smiling brightly. Jamie hugged her and handed over the bottle of whisky, noticing her approval. It was a wonderful evening, Jamie played touch football with Jenny’s boys and Ian, his childhood best friend. The rules of no tackle were ignored with the first pass and the men laughed and fell down, while Jenny dissolved in laughter. Jamie had introduced Lallybroch to American football after returning from his year at Columbia. It was great fun for the whole family and Jamie was in his happy place. Hearing the hum of a car and wheels crushing the stones on the driveway, he looked up to see a gorgeous Jaguar, top down, with an auburn head of hair behind the wheel. The neighborhood friends had joined the game and eleven kids hit him at once, crashing him to the ground.

Geneva stepped out of her magnificent car and laughed at the pile of kids that were rolling off as a big man pushed to his feet. She hugged Jenny and laughed at the funny kids. When her eyes landed on Jamie she smiled and waved at him. Jenny yelled dinner was ready and made the introductions when the men were coming in.

“Jamie, this is a friend of yours from grade school, Geneva Dunsany.”

Jamie looked at the Irish beauty with the crystal blue eyes and dark hair and felt his world tilt. He remembered her, a snooty little brat who lorded over the other kids because her teeth came in early and her family was rich. Now that she was grown up, demure and blushing, Jamie took a new inventory and his interest grew through dinner. They took a long walk after supper that was interrupted by his ringing cell phone.

“I’m sorry lass, one of my patients is in labor and close to delivering. I must go. I promise to send Ian to get ya because I have to run.”

“I know how to run Jamie.” She removed her heels, “let’s go.” Geneva took off while he was still contemplating what she said. He smiled his approval and caught up with her. When they approached the kitchen, she said goodbye and ran directly into the house, shoes in hand.

He stared after her and then peeled out of the driveway to deliver a precious baby that was already deeply loved with a promised life of affluence and support to be its guide in this new world. As Jamie checked in on his patient, he heard her husband coach her expertly and gave him a thumbs up. The labor and birth were textbook perfect, and he handed a very blessed son to the waiting father.

When he dropped into bed he thought about Geneva, happy she had grown up refined and tolerant. He called her the next day and got more excited as the weekend grew near. She was impressive to look at and her conversation was both stimulating and warm. He was hooked, and with Jenny’s encouragement, soon Geneva was all over his life. Her family loved him. A doctor was a very good catch indeed, so they welcomed him and paved the way for their daughter to solidify the union.

Claire woke up with an aching shoulder and gently pulled her hand out of the bassinet next to the Lazy Boy. The baby seemed less distressed at night when she felt a warm hand on her skin, so Claire obliged any night she wasn’t pulled into surgery by Cutter. She yawned and stretched before preparing a bottle of formula and thought her heart might explode seeing the tiny girl smile at her.

“Oh my God, a gift for me, sweetheart.” Little arms moved a bit in the air but laid still from exhaustion after a few minutes. Claire held her and looked into the sweetest eyes as she offered the bottle. The mother was released two months ago and had not been back to check on her daughter. Claire’s heart broke to know she was abandoned, but it didn’t stop her from giving constant attention to the baby.

“I think it’s time to name you princess. Luna is perfect for a miracle baby. Do you like it?”

The baby was sound asleep. She didn’t have the energy to drink the amount most babies do at four months and a full belly was like knock-out drops. Claire put her in the bassinet and wandered outside to the picnic tables to relax. The trees and high foliage had been cut back to lower fire damage to the hospital so she could see the sky and the brilliant full moon. She gazed at it and thought about Jamie looking at the same moon. It was a momentary connected to him. The pictures were pulled out of her lab coat pocket and she looked through them by the light of the moon. Everyone looked so happy and dressed up, having a fabulous time at her going away party. She looked at Jamie’s smiling face and her heart hurt. “Be well handsome,” she whispered into the night. Leaning back she sighed and closed her eyes, just before a screeching animal dropped on her face.

Claire screamed and batted at the thing, feeling it jump behind her head and pull her hair. She was terrified, running around trying to knock it off when she felt the thing jerk away from her. She spun to see Cutter wrestle with the animal and shout when it bit him. The monkey shrieked and tried again to bite but was knocked to the ground and ran away.

“Jesus Cutter, how bad is it?”

“It’s nothing, but I could use some treatment, do you mind.”

“For my hero, anything.”

Claire looked at the bite and steered Cutter back into the building and into a treatment room. She washed the bite with Betadine and giggled at Cutter’s face grimacing with the sting. She handed him a sterilized gauze so he could assess the damage from the little monster while Claire ran for Penicillin.

“Drop the drawers handsome and lean forward.”

She stabbed him in the ass delivering a five CC payload of antibiotics that would bring Hercules to his knees. She kept an arm on his back while she massaged the stinging medicine in his butt. She could hear him suck his breath and growl.

“Don’t be such a baby, Cutter. Do you want me to blow on it?”

“Well yes actually, that would make it much better,” he choked out between giggles.

“Sorry, I only blow the patients now, so on your way soldier.”

Cutter turned around and kissed her on the lips, ducking quickly to avoid her fist and laughing at how easy she was to assault. They had been glued at the hip for the last four months, forging a bond professionally and personally. Both knew they would walk through fire to protect and save each other.

A month after arriving, Claire came onto Cutter. He pulled her into his lap and looked at her like she was a fine treasure. He ran his hand down her leg and told her he was honored and excited she had chosen him. Then he explained that his estranged wife had made contact with him, and he couldn’t touch another woman if he was to share his life with her again. Claire didn’t feel disappointed, but she was curious about his fidelity.

“Tell me about it, please”

“About what?”

“Why did she leave? Did you want to control her and change her views on life? You couldn’t stop so she would stay?”

He looked at her for a long minute. “Is that what happened to you, Claire?”

“It always happens, that is how relationships are, and I rebel.”

“Not a shocker, sweet-pea, and you’re wrong about relationships. You aren’t old enough to have had more than one or two. You should never feel oppressed or held down by your partner, just the opposite. He should encourage you to fly and succeed. Men who want to change you are insecure or narcissistic and they aren’t worth your time. Don’t settle. You are in the upper five percent in gorgeousness, spirit, and skill. You just wait until the perfect man comes along and be open to him. My best advice.”

Claire touched his cheek before going to bed. “Thank you, Cutter.”

She walked back to her room to clean up for dinner and thought about that conversation with Cutter. Since that night, her melancholy was permanently parked in her head. She needed to talk to someone on the outside and on a whim, she called Laoghaire who was overjoyed to hear her voice. They talked for a long time before Claire asked how Jamie was.

Laoghaire assumed it was an old friend asking about another and happily explained her cousin was in a serious relationship and she expected them to marry someday. She described the beautiful and graceful Geneva as the perfect woman and Claire was finding it hard to breathe. When Laoghaire continued with details of Jamie’s relationship Claire clicked off and ran for Joe.

“Joe! Give me your phone.”

“What do you say, dearest?”

“Please.” Claire finally looked up and Joe saw the tears and pain in her face.

“Anything for you love.”

Claire sent a text to Laoghaire that her phone went dead, and she will catch up another time. When she handed the phone back Joe pulled her outside, where she gave him the sad story about leaving Jamie after two amazing days. Her confusion that started right after their time together, and her struggle to forget him. She cried so hard people were coming outside to check on her, only to see Joe’s warning to stay away.

He felt so sorry for Claire. She had arrived a different person and Joe could not get her to share anything with him. This was a bomb going off in her life, making her talk because the pain was overwhelming. He held her against him and told her she would not expire from this, but she would grow and find another love. He kissed her cheek with compassionate eyes when she pulled away to feed Luna.

When Luna was back in the bassinet sleeping peacefully, Claire could not stop her tears. She cried in the dark until the door opened letting the bright lights of the hallway flood into the room.

She hid her face while Cutter examined Luna and then he picked Claire up and stretched out on the Lazy Boy, pulling her into his side and pressing her head to his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it, Claire?”

He felt her head shake no and her sobbing continued so he just held her to him and they both finally slept.

For the next three days, Joe, Kevin, and Cutter took turns staying close to Claire. Her tears finally stopped but she walked around lifelessly and hardly ate anything. Cutter worried because she didn’t have any weight to lose so he pushed Ensure milkshakes at her and pestered her to drink up. On the fourth day of her sadness, Joe suggested she text or call Jamie and then kissed her goodnight.

Claire laid in the dark Lazy Boy and stared at her phone. Before she could stop herself, she typed… wishing you the best, would love to share a phone call, CB… Send.

Jamie struggled through another night of insomnia staring into the dark, listening to Geneva breathe next to him. She had been testy all week and refused to answer his persistent questions about her mood. He felt trapped in a cage when she got like this. Like she wanted to torture him by not letting him leave and not acknowledging his presence. He might find out in a few days and he might never know what set her off. He only knew he felt miserable and wanted some space.

Jamie picked up his vibrating phone and squinted in the dark. He got out of bed as quietly as possible and heard Geneva swear under her breath and sigh loudly. He read the text and was calling the number in less than a minute.

Claire tried to slow the ramming in her chest and sound normal when she said hello. The first few minutes were awkward as Claire was running to her room so she wouldn’t disturb Luna. When her door closed it was just her, Jamie, and five thousand miles between them.

“You don’t have a sleepy voice, were you still up?”

“Aye, sheet boxing with my insomnia. Are ye well Sassenach?”

Jamie’s head was whirling at this surprise and he had a moment’s thought to control the conversation and end it quickly, which he was helpless to do. Instead, he walked around his living room, kitchen, and outside where he walked the streets with the phone pressed to his ear. They filled each other in on the events since they last spoke. Jamie was amazed at the conditions she lived in and his story made no mention of Geneva. Was he sparing her feelings, or did he not want to open up to her?

“Well, it was great talking to you, Jamie. I am due to feed a baby, so I have to go.”

“Sassenach, why did you call me tonight?”

Claire was uncomfortable with her answer but remembered standing in the stadium parking lot and Jamie’s request for honesty.

“Sassenach?”

“Because I am still crushing, after all this time. I spoke to Laoghaire and she said you’re getting married and I fell apart. I’ve been crying for four days and I just wanted to hear your voice and tell you I’m sorry for leaving the way I did.”

“Sassenach,” his voice was barely over a whisper. She felt his voice wrap around her just as the tears were coming.

“How can I help ye?”

“Will you Skype with me, next week?”

“Aye, I will.”

“Thank you, Jamie. Goodnight.”

Jamie stared down at his phone for a full minute. He wasn’t confused or conflicted, and he didn’t believe this was more than a young girl feeling lonesome tonight. It changed nothing for him because she was never coming back here. Maybe this was the first night without a date for her, making her feel insecure and alone. Whatever it was, he wasn’t biting and doubted there would be any Skype next week.

Laying back on the couch, Jamie felt tired, of everything. He remembered the first time he touched Geneva and the excitement of pulling each piece of clothing off her. She was modest and kept him skin to skin, pulling his shoulders up when he tried to taste her. To date, she was still receptive, only in the dark and allowed only conservative positions, pulling Jamie into an orgasm by the shortest means possible. Sex was part of his benefits package. Something she gave, under the right circumstances, but seemed not to take. It was easy in the beginning because he liked her intelligence and the way she looked. Time will reveal all if you’re willing to wait and after four months, her true nature was clear, she was still that mean little girl.

This was the task before him, putting Geneva back in her box without causing a scene that would reverberate through Edinburgh and land on his patients. He was ready to spend another weekend in the woods and suddenly felt better. Another doctor would take his calls for the weekend and he could disappear tomorrow afternoon after his last patient. He slipped into his exhausted sleep and his last thought was kissing Claire on this couch, a long time ago.

Claire was thriving on the adrenalin and happiness that Jamie did not hate her. She blew through the weekend with renewed energy that was noticed by everyone. Luna responded better, her coworkers were happy with her banter, and the patients were more cooperative. Cutter and Joe did not like the change in her. It was a quick fix of some kind. She had not put the work into this miraculous recovery which meant it was fake and she would crash again.

Cutter called to Claire, it was time to go and watched her practically skip to the jeep. He exhaled and rolled his eyes declaring open season on Claire’s secrets and intentions. After a long day visiting the outlying counties to administer shots and general well exams they piled back into the jeep and headed back to the hospital. Claire was tired but undaunted as her personality emerged, happy and strong as she stood in her seat and danced with the wind her hair to a favorite song on the radio. She was so alive, uninhibited and free. Cutter laughed, wondering if this was the real Claire or her bipolar opposite.

“Stop!! Please stop. Is that a pool through there? Back up, pretty please?”

Cutter threw the jeep in reverse and looked where she pointed. It was a pool indeed, attached to a resort that looked abandoned. Claire jumped out of the jeep and ran into the bush, getting closer to the iron fence. Cutter looked around warily and called her back just before he heard a splash.

Running to the gate he saw it was open. On the inside, graffiti covered almost every wall and structure. His heart started to pound as he walked quickly toward the pool, looking for Claire. He started waving her toward him, but Claire had mischief on her mind, he could see it in her face. He said nothing until she swam to him, naked except for her underwear. He reached in and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her up as he started running back to the jeep. His grip was brutal around her waist and he ignored her protest and request for her clothes, left where she shed them. She was practically thrown into the jeep with Cutter’s eyes giving a directive she could not ignore. He spun the jeep in a circle and a death-defying race back to the hospital was underway.

Claire barely got her seat belt on before she was launched from the jeep. Cutter was unbuttoning his field jacket and pulling his arms out of it as they were bounced and jarred from the speeding vehicle. He held it toward her, and she was buttoned into the garment as the jeep came to a screaming halt at the hospital. Claire jumped out and ran for her room before anyone saw her in Cutter’s jacket.

She pushed against her bedroom door, panting for breath. The knock made her jump and she saw the doorknob twisting from someone outside.

“Just a minute!”

“Claire! Let me in.”

She opened the door to see Joe, looking angry, and the doom crept into her.

“Why did you do it, Claire? Do you care so little for his happiness?”

Claire looked at him wide-eyed and shook her head.

“What are you talking about, Joe?”

Cutter is only waiting for his commitment to be up. He’s going home to start fresh with his wife. Now you’re half-naked and so is he. Did you seduce him? Was it worth it?”

“Jesus Joe. No, nothing happened, and your boy is unmolested. I spotted a swimming pool on the way back at some spa or something. It was vacant so I jumped in. Cutter came at me like a crazy person and hauled me back the jeep, almost killing us both on the way back. What the fuck was that place Joe?”

Jamie sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the paper. It was seven o’clock and he was back from doing his rounds to wait for Geneva to wake up. He was calm and excited to get out of town later today.

“Jamie! I didn’t expect to see you this morning. What is going on?”

“I wanted to tell you that I’ll be leavin this afternoon for the weekend. I’m sorry it’s such short notice but I haveta go.”

“We have dinner with my parents tomorrow night, any chance you’ll be back for that?”

“No lass, sorry.”

“So, what the hell do I tell my parents?”

“That I left for the weekend. It’s time for work, maybe we can have dinner on Monday.”

When the front door closed Geneva tried to calm down. This was ridiculous and she was living in constant frustration. Jamie held her at arm's length from the beginning. She couldn’t talk him into any more than three days a week and she didn’t even have a pair of shoes in his closet. It was time for her to let Jamie know she wanted more. A ring on her finger was a good start, or she was walking.

[three-drink-amy]

Sweet Creature

Claire and Jamie have been best friends since they met at university. When Claire decided to leave medical school to pursue her dreams, Jamie was the first to support her. Five years later, they’re still best friends. But two conflicts stand poised to hurt their friendship: Jamie’s stake in her business and Claire’s secret enduring love for him. 

Chapter One

The bell dinged, signaling the arrival of a late customer. Claire rolled her eyes, wishing more than anything that she could close the store and get home quickly. She plastered on a fake smile and walked out to greet the new guest. A sigh of relief echoed through the mostly empty room when she saw who it was. 

“Oh thank god, it’s just you.” 

“Just me?” Jamie teased. “I’m so flattered, Sassenach.”

Claire scoffed, walking past him to turn the “Open” sign to “Closed.” “You know what I mean. I was afraid it was the type of person who comes in two minutes before closing time and wants the world.” 

“Jerks.” 

Claire paused and watched Jamie for a moment. “Yes, in fact, they are.” She started walking back behind the counter and into the kitchen. “Come on. If you’re here, you might as well help me.” 

Jamie shrugged. “Very well.” He rolled back the sleeves of his button down shirt and prepared himself to help Claire close down the bakery. She’d allowed most of the employees to leave a few minutes earlier. On days like that day, she liked to take the time to close things down on her own. It reminded her of how it was in the beginning. 

It had been 5 years since she opened her bakery, Sassenach Sweets. The name had been inspired by Jamie’s nickname for her. Really, it was a way to thank him. She had been in the trenches of medical school and hating it. After many tearful conversations over pizza and beer, Jamie told Claire to pursue her dreams and do what she really wanted to do. And what she really wanted to do was bake. Knowing she could never own her own bakery, Claire gave up hope pretty quickly. But fate, and then Jamie, had other plans. He’d been on a spur of the moment trip with his brother-in-law to New York City when he bought a lottery ticket as a joke and then won. 3.5 million dollars had completely changed Jamie’s life. And then he changed Claire’s. He gave her the money she needed to start her own bakery, including funds for the store and equipment. Achieving her dreams had all come down to his generosity and support. It was something she never forgot. 

Glasgow had apparently been the perfect place to open Sassenach Sweets. Within two years, Claire was opening a second store on the other side of town, due to high demand. There were many days she still couldn’t believe she’d actually followed her dreams, and more than that, that she’d succeeded. 

“What brought you by?” Claire asked as she stood at the sink, washing pans. 

“Eh, I was just thinking about ye,” Jamie replied vaguely. 

Claire looked over at him as he scrubbed at a baking sheet. “Why?” She asked, her eyes narrowing. 

A small smirk bloomed on Jamie’s face. “I ran into someone ye ken.” 

“Oh god. Who?” 

“Frank,” Jamie confessed. 

“Where on earth would you run into Frank?” Claire wondered. 

“Apparently, we go to the same barber.” 

“Hmmm. I wonder how that never came up in all that time,” Claire mused. 

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Tis no’ as though the man was ever fond of me. Ye may recall that he often avoided interactions with me.” 

“To be fair, you did as well,” Claire reminded him. 

“I at least tried. He was yer man and I wanted to give him a chance. He canna say the same,” Jamie defended. 

“He was just crappy all around.” 

Jamie looked over at Claire and watched her for a moment. “Ye ken ye never told me the true reason why ye left Frank.” 

“What? Yes I have!” 

“No, no’ really,” he insisted. “Ye said it just wasna working out. Tha’s no’ a real reason.” 

Claire breathed out a sigh. “Frank had this great idea that he was going to manage the bakery for me so that I could focus on big picture stuff. But he never really seemed to care about me or what I wanted. It just always seemed like he wanted to be able to claim some of the success. And I wasn’t having that. I did this on my own. Well, aside from you.” 

Jamie interrupted her. “Nah, ye did it on yer own.” 

Claire smiled to herself. “Okay, well anyway, it was right around the time that I was working out the logistics of opening the second store and he wanted a piece of it. I didn’t really have the time for a relationship and I didn’t want to be with someone who only wanted me for my success. So I ended things.” 

Jamie nodded. “Well, I still say, good for ye.” 

Claire laughed. “Thanks, I suppose. It’s been quite a while now.” 

“He still asked about ye,” Jamie informed her. 

“Oh Lord. What did you say?” 

“I was spending so much time trying to decide if I wanted to make up some story about ye finding some handsome, rich man or talk about yer massive success and in the time it took me to decide, he started talking about himself,” Jamie recalled. 

Claire snorted. “Sounds about right.” 

“Aye, I thought so as well. Ye were far too good for him, Sassenach.” 

She looked over at him with a smile. “Thanks,” she said softly. 

They worked in silence for a bit. Jamie assured her that he could handle washing dishes while she disassembled machines and put away the leftover pastries. Tomorrow they’d go to the homeless shelter a few blocks away. Day old pastries didn’t sell and Claire refused to waste them. Every morning on her way to work, she’d drop off the left overs from the day before. 

Jamie was the first one to break the silence. “So did I tell ye about the new lass at work?” 

Claire shook her head. “No. I believe the last one you mentioned was Laoghaire and that crashed and burned pretty quickly.” 

“Oh, aye, and for a good reason,” Jamie remembered with a shiver. “Anyway, there’s this new lass at the office. She’s French.” 

“Did St. Germain bring her on?” 

“Aye, he did. Recruited her himself apparently,” Jamie confirmed. 

“And the fact that your boss that you hate approves of her doesn’t deter you at all?” Claire asked with a raised brow. 

“Perhaps it should. But she’s just...mesmerizing. She’s tall and blonde. She’s beautiful. I find myself staring out the door of my office just to see if she’ll walk by,” Jamie told her, a far-off look in his eyes. 

“Well, she sounds special,” Claire replied with an almost flat expression. “What’s the girl’s name?” 

Jamie smiled. “Annalise.” 

Claire nodded to herself, focusing on the task at hand. “So how many days are you betting it’ll take before you get her to go out with you?” 

Jamie shrugged. “I canna say. She’s been rebuffing me a bit. So I thought I’d call in a favor.” 

“A favor, hmm?” Claire asked. She knew just where he was going with this. 

“Ye ken how sometimes ye’ll prepare those wee baskets of yer treats and I take them into the office?” Claire nodded. “Well I was wondering if ye’d be able to do that for me. Soon, perhaps.” 

Claire sighed. “Fine. But you have to promise that John will get at least one of them. He’d kill me if he didn’t.” 

Jamie laughed, his head tilting back. “But of course!” He walked over to Claire and wrapped her in a hug. “Ye’re the best, Sassenach.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” 

He pulled back and looked at her. “I mean it. Ye’re a wonderful friend. And the best investment I ever made.” 

A reluctant smile crossed Claire’s face. Even if it was silly, she always found it a bit endearing when Jamie referred to her as his investment. He was the only one who’d ever helped her with the bakery who’d never asked for something back. And it was the only way their friendship had prevailed. He gave her the money, ignoring her demands that he keep it, and told her to follow her dreams. She’d toss ideas back and forth with him as a way of keeping him in the loop as an investor. Each time, he’d simply say her vision was perfect. 

The constant reminder of his part in helping her was what always got her to agree to his crazy ideas, like pastry baskets for his office. She didn’t mind and would never make him pay, but it wasn’t as though her time was endless. 

It was two days later, after closing time that Joe keyed into the store to visit with Claire. She was laying croissant dough on a pan, ready to put them in the oven. “I thought it was after close. You don’t usually start this part this early.” 

“I’m making a pastry basket for Jamie’s work,” she told him. 

“Oh. I always love when you do that for me too,” Joe said with a smirk. 

“You men. One at a time, please,” she laughed. 

“No worries. It’s a hospital. People bring food in all the time,” Joe admitted. 

Joe and Claire had met in their first year of medical school. They’d quickly become very good friends, bonding over being some of the only non-scots in their program. Joe had continued on and become a doctor after Claire had dropped out to open the bakery. Aside from some light teasing, Joe had been nothing but supportive of Claire’s choice to change paths. Joe and Jamie had carried her emotionally (and occasionally physically)  through the process of starting her own business and making it grow. She often wondered where she’d be without the both of them. The little baskets were usually a thank you when they weren’t serving as shameless self promotion. 

“So how was the hospital today?” Claire asked. 

“Kinda boring, actually,” Joe admitted. “What about the bakery?” 

“Well it’s an hour after close and I’m working on more food,” Claire stated, pointing to the pan in front of her. “It’s not a normal day.” 

“Why are you doing this one?” 

“Jamie asked for it. He needs to impress some girl at work apparently,” Claire said with a mild scoff. 

Joe sat down on a bar stool across from her. “And how does that make you feel?” 

Claire’s head snapped up to look at Joe. “Excuse me?” Joe simply raised one eyebrow, his gaze still trained on her. “Why would that make me feel any sort of way?” 

“Perhaps because of your feelings.” 

Claire burst out laughing. “I don’t have feelings for Jamie.” 

Joe leaned forward on the prep table. “Lady Jane, come on. You told me you did!” 

“That was in medical school which was a long time ago,” Claire reminded him. “Also, I was drunk. A lot has happened since then. Whatever feelings I was having for Jamie were shut down the minute he became an investor in my company. Business leaves no room for feelings.” 

“Mmhmm. Sure.” Claire glared at her friend. “Look, all I’m saying is that I saw the way you used to look at him. And I see the way you look at him now. Not much has changed.” 

Claire was silent as she placed the pan of pastries in the oven. She walked back over and looked at Joe. “You’re right in a way. Things haven’t changed all that much. Jamie still pursues women like they’re a dying commodity. And I’m still never one of them. So, you’re right in that way.” 

Joe frowned, looking down at his hands. “You don’t have to do everything he asks you to do.” 

“He’s my friend and I want to,” Claire insisted. 

“Can you tell me the truth?” Joe pushed. 

Claire sighed, leaning against the table to match Joe’s pose. “I fell for Jamie nearly the moment I met him. I hated being the silly girl in love with her best friend. It was such a cliche. But I couldn’t help it. You’ve met him. You know he’s sweet and has a charm about him. But when he gave me the money to start this, I was determined to shut it all down. Two things complicate friendships like nothing else: feelings and money. We already had the money complication. I wouldn’t be the one to push it a step further and admit my feelings. So I was determined to ignore them. Bury them. Date other people. Throw myself into work. And that’s what I’ve done.” 

Joe watched her for a long moment. “And?” 

Claire sighed, throwing herself down on a barstool, her head in her hands. “And it hasn’t made a bit of difference.” 

She glanced up at Joe with a helpless look on her face. 

“I’m still in love with him.”

Next chapter

[amalthea9]

Classic Doctor Who Fanfic: Minerva and Salamander

OKAY SO this took MONTHS to write because I struggle to write these days and put ideas into words but it was still a fun thing because I haven’t ever written anything concerning my Doctor Who OC interacting with the Who Universe. This fic is regarding the Second Doctor’s serial The Enemy of the World, where the Doctor is a look alike to a dictator called Salamander. Salamander is the villian in the serial, but my thirsty ass finds him sexy as all get out because it’s Patrick Troughton playing a more sinister character. So this short fic will feature Minerva’s encounter with Salamander during the serial. I hope some fellow Whovians can enjoy this.

Minerva is an alien species that have ‘healers’ with telepathic powers that are able to both read and induce emotions and she is a romantic interest for the Doctor from his Second to Sixth incarnations. If you’d like to see artwork of her and her bio, feel free to visit my deviantart gallery here: https://www.deviantart.com/thelastunicorn1985/art/DoctorWhoOC-Minerva-433564132

***Her bio will be updated asap since I have now moved her beginning to the Second Doctor’s run instead of starting her at the Fourth Doctor***

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

Part One This wasn't the original plan but it also hadn't really surprised Minerva. She stood out like a sore thumb amidst humans with her golden eyes and white hair. 

The original plan was to stay with Victoria and serve in the kitchen. But as soon as Ramon Salamander saw her, that was abandoned. He had told Fariah that Minerva would no longer be needed in the kitchen.

"She is needed elsewhere," Salamander had said, his dark eyes locked with Minerva's. 

Minerva had smiled a charming smile, coming to him when he beckoned her. Both Jamie and Victoria felt immediate fear at this occurrence, but Minerva wasn't afraid.

She had half expected something to happen, for Salamander to be intrigued by her appearance. The alien saw no reason to resist him either. That would threaten the success Jamie or Victoria might have in gathering information about Salamander. 

In fact, this could be an advantage if Minerva could relay to Jamie what Salamander might share behind bedroom doors.

Minerva knew Salamander's intentions from the moment she locked eyes with him. 

It was even more obvious when she stood in front of him and could sense the desire in him. So she continued to smile, curtsey, and ask in her soft voice.

"How may I serve you, my lord?"

Salamander smiled a dashing smile at the woman, his eyes glinting with delight at being called 'lord'.

"You flatter me, my dear with such a title," he chuckles. "What is your name?"

"Minerva," the woman replies, her eyes falling to the floor in shyness. 

She wasn't afraid of Salamander, but his gaze was intense. There was power behind them, a ferocity, much like a predator stares at his prey.  It was alluring too if she was honest with herself.

He had the Doctor's face but his eyes were completely different from the Doctor's. 

Salamander brought his index finger to Minerva's chin and gently lifted her head so that she would meet his eyes again.

"No need to be shy, Minerva," he said softly. "And you can serve me by being at my side. I am a lonely man, you see. It comes with the great power I possess. Your beauty would be a comfort to me. What do you say?"

He kept his dashing smile on, and Minerva knew what he was really saying. So did Jamie and Victoria.

He wanted an escort. A female companion to adorn his arm and be shown off. And if he so wished it, sexual favors.

Was this surprising? Hardly. What else does a man of power do with an exotic woman? 

Minerva saw this coming, she just wished that Jamie and Victoria hadn't been present for it. 

She also knew there was only one answer she could give.

She smiled softly and took his hand into her own.

"I am at your service, Salamander," she replied kindly.

Jamie stepped forward on instinct, but knew there was nothing to be done. He knew he just had to grit his teeth and hope that this mission ended quickly so they could all go back to the Tardis. And forget about anything that transpired…

Salamander grinned and kissed Minerva's hand. He turned then to Fariah.

"Fariah, have the most beautiful gowns brought to my chambers. As well as the finest  jewelry. I have a princess to adorn."

With those words, Salamander headed to his chambers, Minerva on his arm.

Fariah nodded and left the room, gesturing for Jamie and Victoria to follow her. They reluctantly did so. When they were walking down the hall, Victoria grabbed Jamie's arm and squeezed it tight. 

"Oh, Jamie!" She whispered in panic. "What will we do?! Minerva shouldn't have to do this!"

Jamie placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed it.

"We can't do anything right now," Jamie replied, his voice low and sad. "Minerva is a strong lass. I'm afraid for her too but...she would ask us to trust her as we always have, aye?" 

He looked down at Victoria to meet her eyes with his own. Victoria nodded, knowing he was right.

"Do not be concerned for your friend," Fariah said suddenly but without facing them. 

Jamie and Victoria looked at her in surprise.

"Salamander is many things," Ferah continued, face forward. "But an abuser of women he is not."

Victoria and Jamie looked to each other and hoped that Fariah was right.

Minerva felt strangely calm. She didn't fear being used for sex by Salamander, and that surprised her to a degree. Her culture never said that women should submit to men, and she hated the fact that almost all of earth felt that way. She didn't feel used though. That was the concerning part for her. She didn't care if she was forced to have sex with Salamander. Deep down, she felt a twinge of excitement at the prospect.

Was it because he was identical to the Doctor? His aura was completely different from the Doctor's, but there was no trace of malice in him towards her. She only felt the lustful desire from him. 

Minerva knew the Doctor did not love her in the way she loved him. No emotions other than friendship emitted from him. It had hurt to come to terms with that, but Minerva was wise enough to know that sometimes love is not mutual. And as much as it hurt, she also did not let it destroy her. The Doctor loved her in his own way. And that would have to be enough.

Salamander looked almost identical to the Doctor, so perhaps sex with him would help ease the pain a little. Salamander obviously didn't love her either, so there was no harm to him. It wouldn't heal her heartache, but it would give a sliver of relief.

Minerva let these thoughts run through her mind, she wasn't sure she would be able to do it when the time came. It was a pathetic attempt at healing and she knew it...but…

"You are very quiet, my dear."

Minerva blinked as she awoke from her thoughts and looked up to Salamander.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "Forgive me, Salamander. I was just… just thinking."

"Thinking, eh?" Salamander inquired. "About what?"

Minerva had to think of something quick to say.

"Of...how unworthy I feel of your favor," she replied, smiling sweetly.

Salamander chuckled deeply, a throaty sound that made Minerva blush a bit. 

"Now now," he says, bringing her hand up to his lips. "You are a beauty. I have never seen a woman like you before. I could not resist you."

Minerva smiled at him and quietly chuckled.

"You flatter me, Salamander," she replies.

"And I shall continue to do so, my dear," he chuckles in reply.

They arrive at his chambers and Minerva can see Salamander spares no expense when it comes to decorating.

It is a large room, with furnishings of dark oak. The curtains are shades of red and orange, with elaborate embroidery on them. There is a very large canopy bed at the far end of the room, it's curtains are also red and orange. The sheets are red and appear to be satin. There are balcony doors, a small table with two chairs, and a large desk. Several dressers and shelves with books, and a beautifully carved loveseat.

"Here we are, my dear," Salamander stated as he leads her to the love seat.

Minerva nods. "It is the grandest room I have ever seen."

"Ah good," Salamander grins as they sit down. "I aim to impress."

Minerva chuckles and tries to ease her nerves. While she doesn't feel he means her harm, she still feels the unease as she struggles with her own thoughts.

"I need to keep him busy," she thought to herself as her thoughts quickly shifted to Jamie and Victoria. 

But also the idea of keeping Salamander busy brought a little sense of enjoyment with it. This man, like all men in power, was just slowly reeling her in, as is a fish on the line. However, she was a fish that was willing to be caught. As much as she could feel his desire, she could feel her own desire slowly growing inside herself. T

This man, a man of cruelty, wore the face of a man she loved and desired; but who could never be hers. If for one night she could look into that face... and her heart's deepest desires come true... then she would take that night. As much as he thinks he is going to use her, she is going to use him just as much.

"You do not need to be afraid, Minerva," Salamander says, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Minerva looks up to him in surprise, not expecting him to speak in such a way. 

"I have asked for your company, but I will not force myself upon you. I have seen too many women in my old country treated in such a way and I despise it."

Salamander takes one of Minerva's hands and brings his lips to it, once more kissing it gently.

Minerva smiles at him, feeling her cheeks blush golden.

Salamander sees that her cheeks flush gold and not pink and it makes him stare at her in wonder.

"Where do you come from? You look to me as a goddess of old."

Minerva often forgets about her blood color. And realizes she may not be able to explain it away, or the matter of how her hair grows halfway down her spine. With a gracious smile, she can think of nothing else to say except.

“I am from a very far away place, the last of my kind in fact. My people were an unusual race, our blood has a golden tint to it, and, as you might have noticed, our hair grows halfway down our spines. I believe it was some sort of genetic anomaly, but we were all like this.”

It was the best she could think of on the spot, and Salamander seemed to accept it. He nodded thoughtfully and smiled.

“A woman of mystery, eh? How exciting,” he mused.

 Minerva chuckled at that.

“You enjoy excitement, don’t you, Salamander?”

Salamander leaned forward at this moment, his face only inches from hers.

“Ramon,” he whispered against her lips. “I wish you to call me Ramon.”

Minerva’s cheeks flushed a deeper hue, taken off guard by his sudden closeness. His dark eyes roamed her face, and rested at her lips. Minerva knew what he wanted, and...in spite of herself...she wanted it too.

“Ramon,” she whispered, her golden eyes shimmering, and she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

They felt rougher than she expected, but still inviting. He brought his hands up to cup her face, his touch gentle. She heard him breathe sharply through his nose as he deepened the kiss, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. 

Was this what it would have been like to kiss the Doctor?

She could pretend at least.

After a moment, he broke the kiss, smiling with contentment.

“Your lips are more heavenly than I imagined, my dear,” he cooed, his fingers playing with a few strands of her hair.

“Thank you, Ramon,” Minerva shyly replied.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Salamander’s head turned sharply to the door and inquired who it was with annoyance.

“Fariah, Sir,” was the reply. “With the garments and jewelry you requested.”

Salamander’s annoyance immediately dissipated as he turned to Minerva with a sauve grin.

“Come, Minerva,” he says, taking her hand in his. “Allow me to adorn you as a princess.”

Minerva nods and smiles, her heart beat still faster than usual.

Salamander instructs Fariah to enter, and Minerva sees a clothing rack full of all sorts of shimmering gowns. The colors are varied, all brilliant and obviously expensive. Following the rack, another servant carries a wooden box made of polished oak. She assumes that it is full of expensive jewelry.

Fariah instructs the servant to place the box on the small table, then with a bow to Salamander, leaves with the other servant. Salamander looks almost boyishly excited as he brings Minerva over to the rack of dresses.

“These are all made by the finest tailors in the districts. Embroidered with patterns of suns, various flowers, and even stars. Now,” he begins, turning to Minerva. “What are your favorite colors, my princess?”

Minerva can’t help the flattered giggle she emits at being called ‘princess’, and she replies that her favorite colors are purples and greens in all shades.

“Ah of course,” Salamander nods thoughtfully. “Lavender is what you are wearing right now, and it is a perfect color for you,” he grins.

Minerva nods her head with a smile of thanks at the compliment and proceeds to look through the gowns. Each of them feel like silk or a similar fabric. Some have long sleeves made of sheen fabric, some have layers in the skirt for dancing. She runs her fingers over the embroideries, amazed at the skill. After a few minutes, she comes to a gown of deep shades of blue. It has sheen sleeves, with golden embroidery on the end of the sleeves. It is layered, lighter blues underneath the initial layer of dark blue. Salamander sees how she admires this dress, and steps up behind her.

“Does this one please you?” he asks, his voice low and close to her ear.

Minerva shivers at the sensation of his husky voice in her ear and his closeness, but keeps her composure.

“Yes,” she whispers in reply. “It reminds me of the night, a time of serenity.”

“Then try it on, my darling,” Salamander replies, his voice still low and laced with lust.

Minerva is still for a second. She lets herself take in Salamander's rush of lust, and she knows he would happily have her undress right there. But she wants to remain mysterious for as long as she can. Lead him on for as long as she can to buy time for the others. 

She turns her head so that their faces are once again inches apart. She smiles a teasing smile at him as she whispers, "Is there somewhere I can change?"

Salamander grins and chuckles in the back of his throat. He knows she isn't going to show him everything so soon. He enjoys the game, makes the reward more satisfying.

"Yes," he replies in a low voice. 

He hovers over her for a second more, then slowly turns his head to the far left corner of the room.

Minerva follows his gaze and sees a 3 panel changing wall. She looks back to Salamander, her smile still coy.

"Thank you," she whispers, and heads to the changing wall.

She changes as fast she can, and is grateful that this dress has a low enough back for her hair. As she emerges from behind the wall, Salamander smiles wide.

"A vision," he states, gesturing to Minerva to make a full turn about. 

She chuckles and does so as Salamander comes up to her.

"It is the perfect dress for you, my princess," he says as he lifts her hand to his lips. 

Minerva smiles kindly at the compliment as Salamander gestures to the jewelry box.

"Now for the finishing touches," he grins as he opens the box.

Minerva gasps in awe at the contents. There are necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. Both silver and gold, many different gem stones crafted into the various pieces. 

Salamander watches her as she reaches for a gold necklace with a small pendant. The pendant has a purple stone in it's center, Minerva would guess it could be amethyst. She smiles and Salamander knows she's made her selection.

He takes the necklace from her with a smile as he says, "Allow me."

Minerva obliges him, letting him clasp the necklace in a parting of her hair. He makes his way back around to face her and smiles with satisfaction.

"I must confess," Minerva begins with a worried expression. "I really don't feel I need any other piece of jewelry. I am quite content with only a necklace."

Salamander shakes his head dismissively.

"No need for apologies, my dear. You have already enchanted me in the dress alone."

Minerva's expresses relief as she smiles and nods her head in gratitude. 

There is a knock at the door, and Salamander beckons them in. The servant says that dinner is almost ready but that Salamander has a few things to see to first. Salamander turns back to Minerva and takes her hands to kiss them.

"Please excuse me, my dear," he apologizes. "But feel free to visit the kitchens or wherever else you fancy before dinner. I will send someone for you when it is ready."

Minerva nods in thanks and smiles graciously to him and Salamander leaves. Minerva decides to start exploring.

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Made Man

(ao3 story link)

A/N: HERE WE ARE. The story began with Jamie getting ready for a Reagan Family Sunday dinner and 40-some chapters later, it wraps up at another one. This is the last chapter of A Made Man, the third installment of The Penthouse series. What a damn ride this has been. Oof. Thanks for being here for it all.

Chapter 47.

“Uncle Jamie, that’s a pretty sick watch.”

I barely hear the observation from my nephew Jack across the dining room table. My gaze is fixed on the mountain of macaroni and cheese on my plate in front of me, the sight alone making my stomach turn.

“Hey Uncle Jamie—” Danny’s voice cuts through as he settles into his seat. “Jack likes your watch.”

“What?” I utter, glancing up. “Oh. Thanks.”

“That new?” My brother questions with a nod.

I twist my wrist to look at the watch Noble gave me, then clear my throat. “Uh, yeah.”

“Let’s be a little less focused on sick watches just before we say grace, huh?” My grandpa announces and I see Jack snicker with a look to Nicky at Pop’s choice of words. “Since you’re the birthday boy, how about you lead off?”

Suppressing a groan, I scoot closer to the table and rest my elbows on either side of my plate. “Since it is my birthday, I reserve the right to pass,” I decide. “Someone else.”

“Oh, boo!” Danny jeers. “You don’t get a pass.”

“You pass all the time,” I argue.

“Alright, I’ll start.” Erin announces.

My dad pipes up, “Somebody please.”

My sister clears her throat. “Bless us, O Lord—”

Clasping my hands, I tip my forehead down and rest it there, just praying to make it through dinner. 

After grace, as everyone’s passing dishes, I’m relieved, and a little hopeful I can tune out, when Nicky takes over the conversation.

“Was anyone else really moved by that sermon?” She announces, passing the requested salt and pepper over to my dad. “I thought it was so romantic.”

“Romantic?” Sean protests. “Gross, it’s church.”

“Not gross,” she contends.

“I thought it was very beautiful,” Linda indulges her.

“I went and looked up that quote Father Quinn used when he talked about loss and love,” Nicky tells the table, adjusting to pull a folded piece of paper from one of her pockets. “It’s not from scripture; it’s from a book by C.S. Lewis.” As she unfolds the note, she glances up at my father. “Is it okay if I read it, Grandpa?”

My dad inhales deeply through his nose and then offers her one of his tight-lipped smiles to humor her. “Have at it.” 

Nicky grins, straightening her shoulders. “In love,” she recites, “there is no safe investment. If you want to make sure of keeping your heart intact, lock it up safe in the casket of your selfishness--”

I scoff this unintended loud breath and hunch over my plate, as if I could somehow escape this. 

Slowly, she turns her gaze my way. “I’m not finished.”

“Your niece is trying to appreciate literature,” Danny taunts. “Do you mind?”

Acquiescing, I merely gesture to her to carry on.

“But in that casket,” she resumes. “It will change. It will not break, but instead your heart will become impenetrable. The only place outside of heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love is hell--”

“Alright--” Erin speaks up while the end of Nicky’s reading prompts looks from Danny’s kids.

My brother chuckles. “It’s a little deep for fried chicken night. That’s all.”

“Give me a break,” I mutter, reaching for my water. “Who gave the homily? Doctor Phil? Glad I missed it.”

“I really enjoyed it.” Nicky shrugs. “I think it’s so true. To love is to be vulnerable--”

“What are you talking about?” I hear the way my voice cuts harshly into her easy tone, but I’m too tired to come off any other way. “You’re too young to even know what that means, Nicky.”

“Well wait a minute--” she disputes. 

I lean in to look past her at my sister. “You gonna let her spout off about the dangers of love? I didn’t think that was a concept you would endorse.”

Erin just meets my gaze, pausing to draw in a thoughtful breath.

“It wasn’t meant to start an argument,” Nicky insists. “I was going to relate it to the job of being a police officer--”

“Yes, that sounds good,” my dad speaks up. “Let’s relate it to the job.”

“No, let’s relate it to Jamie,” Danny cuts in. “Since that got him all torqued up. What happened, kid? You forget to lock up your heart in the casket of selfishness?”

Nicky giggles at the jab.

I drop my fork and it clatters against the plate as I push back and get to my feet. Turning away from the table, I stalk off out of the dining room.

“Hey. Hey!” I hear my brother holler after me along with Erin who calls my name.

But I can’t listen to this shit. I’d rather sit and have to deal with with my grandpa gripe about those homosexuals appropriating the word gay. It used to mean happy!

I’m not sure where I intend to end up so I just make my way to the bathroom and shut the door.

Already I regret the dramatic storm-off because now I’ll be expected to provide an explanation. Plus that was shitty to do to Nicky.

But of all days, this has to be the one where someone initiates some damn discussion about heartbreak like a cruel joke they’re all in on. 

I pinch right between my eyes and take a deep breath. Fuck, I’m gonna throw up. 

My core seizes and it's only a moment later that I do.

***

After a few minutes, splashing water on my face, attempting something that comes off as normal breathing, I make my way back to the dining room.

“Jamie are you okay?” Nicky speaks up. “I’m sorry if—”

“No, I’m sorry, Nicky.” I sigh, holding onto the back of my chair where I stand. “I’m uh— I’m not feeling well. I think I need to—”

“Did you puke?” Sean wonders, prompting a look of disgust from my grandfather as he chews.

“Sean.”

“It’s your favorite dinner,” Jack adds. “Mac and cheese for your birthday.”

“Boys—” Linda leans in. “Uncle Jamie doesn’t feel well.”

I acknowledge my nephews. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

“Mom made a cake.”

“You don’t look so hot,” Linda notices. “Maybe you should go lie down.”

Deciding not to argue with Danny’s wife, I simply nod. “Yeah. Maybe that’ll help.” Then I turn and head for the staircase. I could try to make it home, but it’s highly likely I’ll throw up again or have some kind of panic attack behind the wheel. So I settle on hiding in my old room upstairs instead.

I never come up here. My childhood bedroom is now this half-transitioned guest room, but a few remnants — a Harvard pennant, along with framed prints of pictures I took at Joshua Tree, a camping trip I made the summer between undergrad and law school — still hang on the wall near my bed. The old Parking For Jets Fans Only metal sign has been hung up by the door for as long as I can remember. It’s weird how these things take you back in time. 

The tall bookcase in the corner displays a few diecast model cars Joe and I used to collect, books I loved in high school, and a stack of CDs next to my stereo. 

I sniff a soft laugh when I peruse the album titles, so distinctly an era that seems a lifetime ago. Sliding out the case for U2’s Rattle and Hum, I pry it open and fit the disc in the CD player. I set it to shuffle the songs and then turn to fall across the bed. 

I don’t know how I got here. It’s like I screwed up so many steps ago, I can’t pinpoint where. I could go farther back than the night I met Noble. 

I think about when I proposed to Sydney. I was twenty-six, deliriously self-righteous after three years in the bubble of ivy league law school, acing the bar exam and convincing myself I’d never wear the NYPD uniform. 

I don’t know what life I pictured for us. But it was an easy enough fit. 

And then my brother was killed. 

The devastation was so consuming I thought I’d never be capable of caring about anything after the loss of Joe. Since, I’ve had to find life with some other purpose. With that engagement in a sort of permanent limbo, I enrolled in the Police Academy. Because it was inevitable? Because I had something to prove? A calling to step up for Joe? Probably all of it. 

And if I never had — If I’d stayed in private practice, married Sydney — would I feel like this much of a fuck up? I’ve never second guessed leaving that path behind until now. 

All I know is that I wish I’d never met Noble Sanfino.

A light tap on the door draws my attention across the room. It eases open and I see Erin, lingering there with some hesitation. 

I simply turn my gaze back up to the ceiling. “What now?” I murmur.

“Jamie, what happened?”

Exhaling a pained, breathy laugh, I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

She steps in the room enough to close the door. “I take it you had a talk with Nick.”

“We’re done, Erin,” I tell her. “It’s over. So— Nice work.”

“Jamie.” She says my name again with this concerned shock and it’s such a fucking joke to me.

My head throbs and I just want this all to be something I never think about. 

“What do you mean it’s over?”

“I questioned him about whether he knew Tommy Messina. He doesn’t. But the reality is he can never be safe in New York so what’s the point? He ended it and he’s staying in Florida. There isn’t much else to explain.”

She comes closer, arms crossed over her chest and glances around the room. “That can’t be the only solution.”

“Well that was his solution so—”

“I’m so sorry. That wasn’t my intent.”

Fuck off, I want to say. I sit up and put my feet on the floor. “Erin.”

“I like Nick a lot.”

I just shake my head and cough out this unamused laugh. “What does that matter now?”

“If I hadn’t called you with that information, would this have happened?”

I shrug. “It would have come to this point sooner or later. I guess we just didn’t want to face it until we had to.”

“So now what?”

I look at her like what the hell do you think. “I guess you can sleep at night without the threat of your car being set on fire. What do you mean now what?”

“You love him, though.” She says it quietly because this is a bizarre conversation we’ve never really had. 

If anything, her input on my relationships has only ever been her chiming in with smug, big sister commentary that I never asked for. 

“I’ll get over it,” I mutter.

She sits there a minute as if she’s contemplating her role in this. It doesn’t matter, though. What’s done is done.

Eventually, she softly attempts her next question. “Do you plan on coming out to Dad at some point?”

I glance at her, my brow furrowed. “Come out about what? No.”

She sighs when she figures that’s a dead end path and tries another way.  “There are options, Jamie. I mean you guys could live in Connecticut, that’d probably be a safer situation, and you could commute—”

Confused, I just shake my head. Don’t do this, don’t fucking problem-solve after that bullshit phone call this morning that prompted this whole fallout. As if I’m anywhere near the right frame of mind to look at the situation with some kind of reason.

Blankly, I merely offer, “I know.” And that nauseated feeling starts to spin in my head once more, but I go on. “That wasn’t the conversation though. We weren’t at a place where we’re like, ready to live together. I don’t know. It’s like, all of a sudden—”

Exhaling hard, the muscles in my chest seize. I try to tip my head back and breathe up at the ceiling but the air is trapped. So I lean forward at the waist where I sit on the edge of the bed and hang my head between my knees. 

I feel Erin’s palm up the center of my back. “Hey, hey, hey— It’s okay. Jamie, it’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have even considered—”

“Shh.” She cuts me off. “You need to breathe.”

There’s a tightness in my throat and I feel like I’m choking, Like my inhale doesn’t go anywhere. I can tell myself I’m sinking into an anxiety attack but my body doesn’t listen to the rationale. It’s terrifying that I know what it is and I can’t stop it. Telling myself I’m okay doesn’t make it relent. 

“Jamie,” Erin whispers. Then I feel pressure on my back like she’s resting her forehead there as she sits beside me, the weight steadying me. 

She’s had to do this before. But it hasn’t been since mom was really sick, there near the end, that I’ve felt the grip of panic on me this tight. Usually, I’m able to anticipate it, unwind it before I’m held captive, but not this time. 

“Try to breathe in for four seconds,” she says. “With me. Okay?”

Closing my eyes, I attempt to draw in a deep breath but I just cough out air almost like a sad laugh. “I can’t.”

“Okay two seconds,” she bargains.

I make myself sit upright and press my hands on the edge of the bed. “Goddammit,” I mutter in frustration.

“Try again. Let it be all you think about.”

Hanging my head, I inhale deeply, channel my energy into a steady breath that expands my back.

“Let it out just as slow.”

I do. But there’s still this hard squeeze like someone’s pressing just beneath my ribcage.

"See that was four seconds,” she murmurs. “Show-off."

"Don't patronize me," I manage.

Erin laughs softly and continues the steady back and forth path of her hand on my back. "Fine then as far as breathing goes, I've seen better."

Finally I exhale in amusement and just shake my head. I work on another breath.

I keep on like that for a few more, determined to follow the pattern — in for four and out for four, the sounds of it loud between my ears. It’ll pass. I can’t fight it, I have to just know I’ll get to the other side. But fuck, I don’t even want to. This will be over and Noble will still be gone.

After a few steady moments, Erin squeezes my shoulder.  "This song," she muses, letting the slow-building track of All I Want Is You set a soothing rhythm to the air I take in. "Remember when Joe and I took you to that U2 concert? You were what, you’d just graduated high school?"

Another gradual breath while I think about that night out in the city. "Yeah," I answer. "Danny was on modified assignment working The Garden."

Erin chuckles. "I need to remind him of that cushy little gig next time he tries to say the bosses are too soft on you."

I sit there and let the music sink through me. This song is so goddamn sad it hurts. First Nicky’s absurd to love is to be vulnerable speech. And now the lull of Bono’s haunting voice musing that all the promises we break, from the cradle to the grave, when all I want is you — everything is a joke. 

I focus on the memory of that night, years ago with Erin and Joe. When simple shit like going to concerts and walking around New York, our ears ringing and our voices hoarse, was enough of a thrill and not a lot else mattered. “We had nosebleed seats,” I recall.  “And Danny managed to get us down front."

"That was a pretty awesome night."

I breathe again and the sick feeling starts to dissipate. "Between that, and this room, it's like… I'm remembering another life." 

She glances up and around, seeming to consider the memories held in time here. "It sort of was."

I swallow hard and close my eyes. "Somewhere I went wrong, Erin."

She just turns her gaze to me and offers a quiet "Shh" worried I'll get worked up again.

"How is this where I'm at?"

"Jamie, don't look for answers now."

"I have to look for answers or I'm gonna start missing him like hell."

"So let yourself miss him."

I take another slow, deep breath as the heat beneath my skin begins to taper off. At this point, it’s like missing Noble is all I have the energy for. It’s all I can do to tip back across the bed once more and close my eyes. 

My empty heart dwindles its beat down to something that almost feels normal, leaving the slightest flicker of clarity, reminding me that my only control is over what I do next.

[phaedrecameron]

House of Fraser, Chpt 15 - Beginnings

Hello all! This chapter is once again NSFW because Claire has one last demon to exorcise 🤪👹. Also, there’s been disturbances in the Force lately, it goes without saying, if anything I write is causing anyone distress, will someone kindly let me know!!  Thanks for reading!!! This chapter dedicated to @happytoobservenolongerdistant and @yesfangirl

Ignoring the cold that filled her lungs, she pressed forward. Not a thought spared for blistered feet or wind burned skin, her numbed fingers clawed at wet earth. The tartan slipped from her shoulders, but she continued. She would find him, she would save him.

Claire awoke with a gasp. She clutched the duvet to her neck. Slowly, awareness returned. 

Scotland, Jamie

The aroma of fried eggs filled the air and the mid morning sun shone through the window. She swung her bare legs to the side of the bed and stood. A blush and a smile. Her hips ached and there was an unaccustomed openness to her body.   

Jamie  

She gingerly slipped into a plush robe from the adjoining bathroom and peeked around the corner. On the kitchen counter was a box of donuts. Next, she saw Jamie was standing near the sink, clad in only his boxer briefs. He was inhaling a plate of eggs, tomatoes, and black pudding – he seemed near starved. A surge of pride hit her; she’d done that to him.

She didn’t want to go to him just yet. It might be wrong to spy on him unawares, but it thrilled her – the thought of him going about his business while tucked in her environment because he’d chosen to be there.  It was a heady feeling she’d never experienced; the possibility of a shared life without fear of loss of self. She watched as he casually scratched his arse and poured himself a cup of coffee. Hm. coffee? She’d only ever seen him drink tea. Suddenly, she wanted to know all his habits, all his likes and dislikes. It was then she discovered one of his faults. He had no sense of music. Her hand covered her smile as she listened to him hum a tuneless, rhythmless non melody. His mobile vibrated on the counter. He smiled broadly, scoped up the phone and hit the face time function. She saw a flash of a young boy’s face.  His nephew. He began speaking in Gaelic. It was no doubt his family wondering when to expect him for Christmas.

Claire returned to the bedroom. She knew he had a close knit family. Frank hadn’t. Probably why he wanted kids so quickly. But with Jamie she would have an instant extended family.

Claire walked to the bathroom. Lord. She stared wide eyed at her reflection. Her hair was as expected, but…  She ran her tongue over the swollen left side of her lower lip and moved her shoulder closer to the mirror. Her fingers traced the bite mark. There was a forming blueish blob just above her clavicle, a love bite where her neck and shoulder met, and her left breast had a faint purple tinge to it.  His laugh filtered from the kitchen. She tried to remember when and how he’d given her each one. The thought left her flustered and craving him once more.  She sighed and went back to the bedroom. The last condom lay on the bedside table. Surely, she should have breakfast before entertaining that again.

She grabbed her mobile. It had been off since she left HF. Once on, the messages flooded in. Patients as expected, two missed calls from Jamie, Geillis confirming their Christmas plans, and multiple messages from Frank. She read only his last text,

Did you go?

The mobile slipped from her hand and she backed into Jamie’s chest. On instinct she flinched forward and whipped around.

“Claire?” he reached out.

She pulled away.

Jamie felt the dagger in his gut, “do ye regret it then?”

“Wot?” She rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck, “No. No! Of course not, Jamie never.”

He pulled her arms down and peered into her face. He needed to see her eyes, needed to see the truth in her face.

“Jamie, you startled me is all…I..”

“I called yer name twice from the doorway, but ye didna turn around. Ye were talkin to Frank? Ye’d get the same look when he would contact ye at the studio.” He backed away. “I thought maybe ye wanted him still.”

Her hands went to her hips. “James Fraser, I don’t know if you’re suffering from sleep deprivation, dehydration, lack of whisky or some form of dementia, but I bloody well didn’t sleep with you as some type of experiment! I made my choice and it wasn’t Frank. If you never found me at the stones, it still wouldn’t have been Frank!” Her jaw set and she angrily swiped a curl from her face. “I did it because, because..” The robe had slipped open exposing her breast.

“Aye, I’m listenin.” A smirk and a face awash in relief.

“I did it because I want to be with you,” her voice softened, “always.” She slipped off the robe and placed her cheek flat over his heart. Her eyes closed as his arms encircled her. She felt the now familiar beat of his heart; strong and steady. His chest rose and fell beneath her hand. “Mine?” Her hand curled against his skin.

“Always.” He pulled back and placed a large hand between her breasts, “mine?”

“Yes.”

She pulled him down for a kiss.

“Lass, yer so cold. I dinna remember ye being so at HF.” His hands ran up and down her back, his tongue searing her neck.

“Bloody Scotland. Warm me, Jamie.”

She pushed him back toward the bed and fell on top of him as they kissed. “Is it always going to be like this?” She urged him back toward the headboard. “The wanting?”

“God, I hope so.”

He shimmied out of the briefs as she reached for the condom.

“I want food after this.” She sank down.

He laughed on her neck, hands entwined in her hair, “aye, I’ll keep ye fed Sassenach.” A hand dropped to squeeze her arse. “Just dinna stop.”

“I can’t.”  She took his mouth and rode him slowly, her back and hips undulating so she she could enjoy every inch.  

Jamie grasped her hips and tilted his pelvis in an effort to quicken her pace.

“Nope,” she grinned and pushed at his shoulders.

Jamie fell against the headboard, “A Dhia, ye vixen. Yer tryna kill me.” His face contorted in frustrated pleasure. “My heart is gonna burst right here and it’ll be yer fault.”

Her laugh was unburdened and pure.

“Oh come now,” her voice seductive in his ear as she pulled him to her chest, “I’m a doctor, your heart is safe with me.” She rose up and stilled right before he slipped out. His breath fanned across her face as he began to pant.

“Sassenach, please.” One hand fisting in the sheet, the other squeezing her hip.

“Hush, just a bit longer.”  Her fingers traced the strong line of his jaw, the razor edge of his nose, the prominent ridge of his brow. “I’ll let you have your revenge.” She cupped his face.

Jamie’s body began to shake as he fought against instinct. The urge to rise up and force her hips down was almost unbearable. He knew she needed this, needed to understand something from him. He had nothing left to give, nothing but himself, and so he did. He released her hip and relaxed his grip on the sheet. His breath evened and he locked his eyes to hers.

She saw it. His surrender. He no longer sought permission to have or please her. He wanted to be taken.

Frank never yielded to her. Not once. And neither did she. Their love making had always been a battle of wills. She assumed her lack of submission was a form of proud feminism, but it was the opposite. She’d allowed him to deny her; deny her pleasure, deny her heart, deny her love, deny her power.

Never Again.

Jamie groaned and she forced her body down and ground against him. She rose up and began a punishing pace. He made no move to touch her or match her movements. She fisted the hair at his nape, yanked his head back, and bit his jaw.

His eyes screwed tight. “Yers,” he blurted.

“Wot?” Breathless, her body moving faster.

“I’m yers, Claire.”

A strangled sob came from her throat. Tears welled in her eyes. She moved her hands to the sides of his neck and placed her forehead to his. She rode him even harder.

“Now?” He asked.

“Yes, yes, now.”

He felt her nod against his head as her tears hit his chest. He drove his hips up to meet her. One hand squeezed her nipple, the other curled at their joining; his knuckle providing the friction she craved.  

“Aaah..” She thew her head back, chest bowed to him, her hands went behind her to rest on his shins.

Uncaged, she imploded.

“Christ.” Jamie whispered in wonder. He ran his hands under and around her breasts as she started to come back to herself.  “By God,” awestruck, he pushed the untamed curls from her face.  “What are ye?

He brought her to his chest. “Sorcha, bidh gaol agam ort fad mo bheatha, thu fhèin agus chan eil duine eile.” She owned his soul.

He rolled them over. “Claire, I..I”

She smiled and ran a hand down the side of his jaw. “Have your revenge and welcome to it. Yours.”

Power unleashed, he rose on both arms, and rode her solid.

*******

“Try it, it’s so good.” Claire brought her sticky, sugar- goo covered hands to Jamie’s mouth.  

“Uh-uh.” Jamie shook his head, mouth shut, as he dodged the offending donut piece.

“Fine, more for me.” She turned and nestled back between his legs.

They sat naked on the living room floor, surrounded by duvets, backs to the couch.

“I dinna see how ye can eat that – being a doctor.” He nibbled on her ear.

She chortled, “as a doctor I know nothing is guaranteed and everything in moderation.”

“Well hopefully, not everythin’.” He pinched her arse.

She wiggled. “Stop that, I’m trying to follow the complicated plot of this cinematic masterpiece.”

As punishment for her previous indiscretion, Jamie was making her binge the Fast and the Furious and all 75 of its sequels.

Tomorrow they would leave; he to Lallybroch, Claire to London. He wanted to bring her with him, to give her his family. He knew it was too soon for her. He ought to be thankful he even had her at all, but by god, he wanted to give her everything all at once.

“You okay?” She looked over her shoulder.

“Aye.” He held her close. “Now, what’s yer favorite ice cream flavor?

Jamie learned she had her first kiss at 8, loves spicy food, is not a morning person, and chocolate chip cookie dough was preferred, but mint chocolate chip would do in a pinch.

Claire discovered he suffered from terrible motion sickness, did drink coffee, but was partial to tea, and was invisible to the opposite sex until well into his 20s.  This last one caused her to nearly aspirate a donut sprinkle and she accused him of profound ignorance.  And much to his dismay, upon learning all his names, she started to call him Jamphf.

And so it went. They spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled together, unraveling the secret of them.

***********

“Is Kitty paintin Fergus’ toenails?” Ellen Fraser squinted out Lallybroch’s kitchen window.

“Aye.” Brian put an arm around her shoulder. “Maybe the lass will be a creative, like ye and Jamie.”

“Hmm, have ye heard from our son?”

“Aye, he’ll be up tomorrow. Wants to borrow the Rover to go to the Fairy Hill.” Brian winked, “said ‘his new line is inspired by the nature of the Highlands’.”

“Oh,” Ellen squeezed his side, “he’s never mentioned nature as an inspiration for his work. Ye think she’s found him then?”

“I believe she has. Finally.” He kissed her temple. “Should we tell him?”

“Nay, let’s give em some time, wait till he brings Claire ‘round.”

[the--highlanders]

About an Imagined Meeting

In which Jamie wonders what happened to some of the friends they left behind, and what might have happened to him. 

on ao3.

“Do ye think he ever found her?”

“Mm?”

Jamie was lying on his back, his hands laid neatly over the blankets on either side of him. He was staring blankly up at the ceiling, but the Doctor could almost hear his mind ticking over. It was there in the carefully measured tone of his voice, the way every word seemed rehearsed. “Lieutenant Carstairs.”

“Carstairs.”

“Aye, ye know, the soldier we met. In the – the war games.” His voice buckled at that, his calm shattered for the briefest of moments. Truth be told, the whole incident was burnt into the Doctor’s mind with perfect vividness, but somehow he could not open his mouth and say so, spare Jamie the agony of recounting it. “He came back with us when we were lookin’ for the TARDIS, remember? ‘Cause he wanted tae try and find Lady Jennifer.”

“Ah.” The effort of making that single sound was all the Doctor could manage for a moment. “I – I really don’t know, Jamie.”

“Was there enough time?” Jamie pressed on, apparently oblivious to the Doctor’s stilted replies. Whatever conclusion he was heading for, he was determined to get there, whether the Doctor helped him along the way or not. “Before the Time Lords arrived?”

“I don’t know,” the Doctor repeated. “There may have been. But, ah, it couldn’t have been very long.”

“Before they were sent back to their own times, aye.” Jamie nodded. “I wonder what he would’ve done, if he’d found her in time.”

“What makes you think he would have done anything?”

There was silence for a moment, broken only by the slow shuffle of Jamie’s shirt against the sheets as he squirmed around. “Just a feelin’, that’s all.”

The Doctor could think of no answer to that. They looked pointedly away from each other, Jamie still fixated on the ceiling, the Doctor on the opposite wall. He had a terrible, sinking suspicion that he knew exactly where Jamie was going with this – but why was another question entirely.

And sure enough, only a moment later came the question he had been expecting. “Do ye think he found her again on Earth?”

“I don’t know.” There was nothing else to say, no reassurance he could give in good faith. “The First World War was a terrible thing, Jamie. Vast, and without the communications of some of the more – ah – technologically advanced wars we’ve seen. If they were stationed far apart, they may never have encountered each other again.”

“But if he wanted to,” Jamie insisted.

Now came the hardest part of all. “He wouldn’t have remembered anything, Jamie.” However soft he tried to make the words, they still came out harsh and grating. No amount of gentleness could round off the sharp edges of that horror. “Including Lady Jennifer.”

“No’ even if they ran into each other again?”

“Well – perhaps then, with the right trigger, he may have – at least subconsciously -” The Doctor was floundering now. There was a right answer to all of this, he was sure. An answer that Jamie wanted to hear. But which was it? And even if he knew that, was giving it to him the right thing to do, if it meant he had to lie? “Yes, perhaps then. One never knows.”

“’Spose he did remember, though.” That same blank look still clouded Jamie’s face. How often had he turned this problem over in his mind, to speak of it so matter-of-factly? “No’ - not consciously. Not at first, anyway. But he had this – this feelin’, like he had tae find someone, an’ he went looking for her, ‘cause deep down he remembered her.”

“Well, Lieutenant Carstairs did seem like a rather determined young man.” The Doctor sighed, rolling over to press his cheek against the pillow and fix Jamie with a determined stare. “Jamie, dear -” Jamie snorted, and he carried on a little more tentatively. “Aren’t you, perhaps – thinking about this a little too deeply?”

“What do ye mean?”

“Well.” The Doctor spread his hands out in front of him. “Carstairs and Lady Jennifer had only just met when we arrived. Their experience with us brought them closer together than they might otherwise have been, yes, but – in the grand scheme of things, they only spent a few short days together. It seems rather unlikely that they would have made a… a strong enough psychic impact on each other to facilitate that sort of subconscious remembrance.”

“Oh.” Jamie was quiet for a long moment, and the Doctor froze along with him. If there was a right answer, there was bound to be a wrong answer, too, and perhaps he had struck upon it. In fact, if he was right about what Jamie was getting at, he was almost certain that he had. But when Jamie spoke again, his voice was still full of that awful, unreadable evenness. “What sort of – psychic impact would ye need, then?”

He could stand this dancing around the issue for no longer. Whatever Jamie was thinking, it would be better for both of them to get to it quickly. Like ripping off a bandage. “I suppose you’re not so much interested in them for themselves,” he said softly.

A laugh burst out of Jamie at that, small and humourless but still something more than the emptiness he had been wearing like a shield. “I ‘spose it was a bit obvious,” he said, biting at the corner of his lip when he paused to glance over at the Doctor. “A – a medical – person, an’ a soldier.”

“You’re not a soldier.” It was hardly the most important thing at hand, but the words forced their way out of him reflexively. Jamie was many things – brave, foolhardy at the worst of times, quick to jump to the defence of his friends, quick to anger if he deemed someone worthy of his dislike. But soldier was not one of those things. “You’ve never been a soldier.”

Jamie himself simply shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“What did you want to hear? That Carstairs – that you would never have remembered, or that you might have remembered someday?”

A long silence stretched out over the room, the small gap of empty blankets between them seeming to widen out into a yawning gulf. The longer it went on, the further the Doctor’s stomach sank into the mattress. Jamie had been dancing around it for a reason, he scolded himself. It had only been a few short weeks since the Time Lords had seen fit to return him, and his memory was still rather more piecemeal than the Doctor would have liked. He must have been looking for an unspoken comfort, the kind where he did not need to speak the name of his turmoil for it to be recognised. And now the Doctor had gone and blundered in and made everything worse.

Huffing to himself, he rolled back over, mirroring Jamie in staring at the ceiling. But the rustle of the pillows and blankets made Jamie stir, and he rolled over himself, curling one hand against the pillow just in front of his face. He looked so terribly vulnerable like that, his face more open than before, and the Doctor was glad that he could only see it out of the corner of his eye.

“I don’t know,” Jamie said at last. “I dinnae really like the idea of either.”

“Hm.”

“No’ remembering at all would’ve been – bad.” He shrugged, as if in admission of the fact that it was something of an understatement. “I wouldn’t have known what I was missin’, I suppose. Only – I would’ve, deep down. An’ everythin’ I knew about myself from being with ye, everythin’ I was – everythin’ I am – I would’ve had tae learn it all again. But remembering, and never seeing ye again -” He shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment. “I don’t know I I could’ve lived with that, on top of everythin’ else.”

“You would have learnt to.”

“Mm.” It was clear from the set of Jamie’s jaw that he did not agree, but he did not seem particularly interested in arguing the point. Perhaps he thought it was best to let the Doctor believe what he would. Perhaps he was right.

“Jamie?”

“Aye?”

Jamie’s hands were still sitting atop the blankets, palms-down but tantalisingly close. Drawing his own hand out from beneath the covers slowly, like it might go unnoticed if he moved carefully enough, the Doctor reached over to worm his fingers beneath Jamie’s. For a long moment, Jamie was still, and the Doctor wondered if he should have left him alone. But then Jamie rolled over his outstretched arm to nestle in against his side, and juggled the Doctor’s hand to his own left one rather than his right. When he stilled again, the weight of him was heavy on the Doctor’s arm, already slowing the circulation, but he did not have the heart to pull away and readjust himself. Jamie was there beside him, solid and warm, that was the important thing.

There was more to it than that, of course. Things were still needling at the both of them. But they could wait. With Jamie apparently settled down, the Doctor dared to shuffle around a little himself, pulling his arm out from beneath the bulk of Jamie’s weight and pressing his face into his back.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured into the nape of Jamie’s neck.

Jamie’s reply was so quiet he almost missed it. “Aye,” he said. “Me too.”

[oswald-privileges]

Loudmouth

(I wrote some statement fic. It’s been a heck of a while since I wrote anything for fandom.)

Statement of Ulla Ness, regarding, um... a peculiar transformation. Original statement given March 14th, 1999. Audio recording by Christopher Peake, in an… unprofessional capacity. Statement begins.

I still don’t see why I had to come to you. I know you have an email address, so wouldn’t it have been easier to just scan the form and send it to me? Hell, I would have taken a physical copy sent to me in the post. It would have been slower, but it would have meant I could have stayed at home. But no. I asked, and you just gave me a lot of waffle about how you have ‘strict acquisition policies’, alongside directions that had been copied from google maps. Which I know, because I checked.

It’s not that I’m lazy, you understand, far from it. I used to have what I regarded as quite the active social life. But recently that’s become impossible for me to maintain, for a number of reasons. Which are also the reasons that I’ve come to talk to you.

I used to be quite a religious person. Still am, I suppose. I’m not entirely sure. I was a member of the congregation of Saint Mary’s, a small anglican church in a small, anglican village up in Lincolnshire. Not everybody there was particularly devout, but it wasn’t one of those places where it especially mattered. It was more about the sense of community we had. Catching up with each other after communion on Thursdays, singing in the choir, arranging cake sales or coffee mornings as fundraisers for whatever bit of the building had fallen off now. I’ve been attending since I was little, and more or less grew up with the congregation.

I miss it quite badly, if I’m being honest. I’ve always been the sort to need other people, but I didn’t realise quite how much losing them would affect me. You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone and all that, I suppose.

It started with another fundraiser, a jumble sale this time. I had volunteered to help manage the event, so I was in charge of sorting through the items that people had brought in for us to sell. Like I said, not everyone there was strictly devout, and didn’t always take care with what they decided to donate. Some people seemed to use it as more of an excuse to toss legitimate junk in our direction and call it a good deed.

This was definitely the case with Mister Ashley. He attended purely because his mother was too old to walk by herself, and I rather think that she insisted that he stay with her throughout the service. It was definitely at her behest that he took part in any communal activities. She would always announce that he would be happy to run stalls or make tea or some other menial duty, while he sat by her side, stony-faced, and saying nothing at all.

The only time I remember him giving any sort of reaction was when when his mother announced that her Jamie would be happy to donate some of his shop’s excess stock for the jumble sale. I remember, he turned to her with the strangest look on his face. At the time, I thought it was one of badly suppressed outrage. I assumed that she had simply gone a bit too far in volunteering his services; Mister Ashley was a second hand book seller, and owned the Jabberwock Bookshop just off from Memorial Square. It can’t have been all that easy to turn a profit. Thinking back on it now, though, and I wonder if his expression was something sharper than just anger. If it could have been alarmed, almost panicked. But I believe that is likely be nothing more than hindsight colouring my memories. If he had had some way of knowing, had been frightened of something like that which came to pass, then… well. I cannot honestly say I ever truly liked James Ashley, but neither can I believe that he would be as cruel or as cowardly as to not have said or done anything.

As it was, he brought the books to the side room the next day, where I was going through the donations and sorting the sellable items from those things too broken, torn, stained, or just plain unusable. I had just set aside yet another jigsaw- this one with almost two thirds of the pieces obviously missing- when he knocked on the outer door. In spite of the heavy rain, he wasn’t wearing a coat, hat, or boots. He didn’t say a word to me when I opened it, just shouldered his way in, dropped a heavy cardboard box on the floor by the unsorted donations, and walked out again. He did this three more times, leaving the door swinging behind him, letting in strong gusts of wind and rain, and reinscribing a damp trail of rainwater on the carpeted floor. Then he was gone as abruptly as he had arrived.

Ashley had taken better care to protect the books from the rain than himself. The cardboard was soaked through, but the books inside had been wrapped in several layers of plastic sheeting. They were stacked upright, and had been fitted in without any attempt to force too many into a single space. They were all, without exception, worn, faded, and almost completely without interest. Paperback romances long since out of print, old text books, children’s encyclopedias. It was rather a relief, if I’m honest. I could just reach into the boxes, grab a book, give it a flick through, and place it on the “for sale” pile.

I was about halfway through the last box when my fingers brushed something that did not feel at all like paper. It was dense and yielding, and ever so slightly damp. I recoiled, shock and disgust crawling their prickling way up my arm. My fingers looked clean, but the ghost feeling of something sticky still clung to them.

My first thought that it was some nasty practical joke. That Ashley, stung by his mother’s willingness to give away his stock, had put something disgusting in there by way of relieving his feelings. But that would have been ridiculous- he was a grown man, for goodness sakes, not a slighted child. It was more likely that the plastic keeping the books wrapped up had slipped, and allowed the rain to seep in through the sides. That was the more likely explanation.

It seemed as though I was right when I looked into the box properly, and saw nothing there but more books. But when I reached in again, all I felt was rough, dry paper. Confused, I went through the contents more slowly, looking where I placed my hand and at the books I chose.

I didn’t feel it again until the fifth book I picked up, that same almost-damp feeling. It was broad and set in landscape, almost like a sketchbook. It was dense with pages all jammed together- dense and heavy. It flopped bonelessly in my hand, and I needed to support it from underneath before I could read the title.

Hymnal, it read. The gold letters gleamed wetly on the slick cover.

It appeared to be full of sheet music. No titles or lyrics, just scratched staves and notes that meandered up and down the lines as though drunk. The smell that rose from the pages as I turned them was odd and unpleasant. I wondered if the leather binding them hadn’t been properly cured. Those areas of page that weren’t covered in music were full of sketches, but so dense and overlapping that I couldn’t tell what they were supposed to be. And, I realised with an unpleasant start, the cover beneath my hands was warm, as though I was touching a live thing.

Suddenly, I’d had enough. I was sitting here, working myself up over an old, graffitied book for no good reason. I shut the thing hurriedly, and it snapped closed with a heavy slithering of pages. I caught the soft part of my forefinger on one of them, and a tiny bead of scarlet began to well from the wound. The stinging was welcome- it gave me something to focus on, mundane annoyance drowning out the confusion that had been threatening to become fear.

I dropped the book onto the discard pile. I couldn’t sell something like that, that much was obvious. Then I picked it up again, and dashed through the rain to the rubbish bins outside. I tossed it in, and followed it up with as much of the discard pile as I could bag up in one go, burying the thing underneath threadbare scarves, broken plastic dolls, and half used art supplies.

I felt a little better when it was done, but not much. Whatever those hymns were praising, I don’t think it was Our Lord.

The cut on my finger didn’t heal like it should. It stopped bleeding without any trouble, but the edges became raised, reddened and sensitive to the touch. I dabbed at it with antiseptic and did my best to put it out of my mind. I succeeded at first. I had plenty to keep me busy, both at church and at my workplace, and for a day or two, I completely forgot about it.

At least until it opened up again.

I don���t remember what caused it, or if anything caused it at all. Just that I was reaching for something, and there was the feeling of… unpeeling, almost, the cold feeling of fresh air on wet skin. I checked to see if the cut was bleeding again.

Instead of a cut, I found myself looking at a tiny, fully formed mouth.

The raised, reddened edges I had thought were a sign of infection had become minute lips. They were slightly parted, and behind them I could see the tiniest slivers of white. And behind that, a dark space where something wet shifted.

I didn’t look at it for long. Already I was reaching for the first aid kit, hastily covering the cut- the mouth- with a plaster. I was already convincing myself that what I’d just seen was some kind of infection I was too squeamish to look at, and that since I couldn’t feel any pain, I should probably go to the doctors, in case it was nerve damage or something. The impression of having seen a mouth rather than a cut was an unpleasant trick my mind had played on me, and one I didn’t feel like closely examining. I told myself I had imagined it.

I hadn’t, though. I could taste the soft fabric patch on the plaster.

I really did mean to go to the doctors. Mouth or no mouth, whatever was happening to the cut on my finger worried me. I even got as far as making an appointment. But the next day I went into work, and there was an accident involving a slippery patch of floor and a very, very sharp knife that I was carrying at the time. I ended up with a nasty slice parallel with the underside of my ribcage.

This time, it was obvious how quickly it stopped bleeding, how it was practically dry before I even changed the gauze once. How the scabs began to flake before I even touched them, leaving nothing but those raised, reddening edges around the cut itself.

I didn’t go to that doctor’s appointment. I don’t think it would have helped me if I had.

It took longer for the second cut to open, but when it did, I could stand in front of the mirror to properly see the flat, white, human teeth, and the tongue that moved behind them.

It didn’t feel alien. That’s what surprised me most. I was scared, of course I was scared, I was growing new bits, opening up in places that I shouldn’t- but that was just it. It was my body doing this, not some… weird infection or surgery. Whatever was happening, it felt like an extension of myself.

I could move them, I found. Not as consciously as I could my original mouth, the one in its proper position on my face, but sort of like moving a limb after it’s fallen asleep. It took concentration, like I was working through partial numbness. Like I needed to focus to wake them up.

I didn’t spend very long doing that, though. I would realise with a start that what I was doing wasn’t normal, it wasn’t sane. I would pull my shirt back down or re-plaster my finger with a feeling almost like shame. I wasn’t as scared as I should have been, and that in itself was somehow a lot more frightening.

I’m not clumsy. I can’t be, considering the sharp tools I have to handle at work. But I started to accumulate injuries. Innocuous things at first. Paper cuts from the prayer books during mass, scrapes from the edges of the metal benches at work. And then other things. Pushing down a door-handle would lay my palm open as though I’d been struck with a metal ruler. The pressure of my jacket across my shoulders would tear the skin. I woke in bed one morning to discover that the folded sheets around me had left cuts going from my hip to my collar bone.

Every single one of them bled, reddened, and opened.

The mouths started to become restless as their number grew. They tried to chew on the clothes I wore to cover them, and if I didn’t focus, they would let out soft, but audible moans or sighs. I tried to quiet them. I even tried feeding them, though I only did that once. It seemed to help, but the mangled sensation of swallowing with a throat that seemed to be lodged under my right kidney was so disorienting I couldn’t bring myself to do it again.

I hadn’t stopped going out altogether. I left the house less, certainly, but as uncertain and uncomfortable as my changing existence was, I didn’t want to give up the company of other people altogether. I get lonely easily.

So, one Friday, when when there was so little skin left under my clothes and gloves that no new mouths could easily form, I patched my face and neck with gauze, and went to take my place in the choir again.

Nobody really seemed to notice anything different about me. I had all the right stories lined up for when I was asked about what had happened to my face, but almost nobody did. A few condolences, a few jokes, and that was it. People apparently preferred to gossip about the death of Mrs Ashley, and how her James had stopped coming to church now, and how they had known his heart wasn’t in it all along.

It felt awful. There I was, standing in the middle of them, skin to skin almost, with the most fragile disguise imaginable hiding a secret that would ruin their perception of the world for good- and they were too wrapped up in their own smug assurance of their own piety to notice. I offered up a brief prayer for patience, but like all my prayers lately, I don’t think I was offering it to the God whose praises we’d all gathered to sing.

And when we raised our voices together for All Things Bright And Beautiful, and I opened my mouth to join in, and then opened my mouth again, and opened my mouth again, and opened my mouth again- I wasn’t singing praises to that God either.

I didn’t realise that the others had stopped at first. It wasn’t until I glanced to one side, and saw Julie Wright staring at me with her powerless mouth open and unmoving, that I realised I was singing in harmony with myself.

I broke off, suddenly embarrassed and frightened by the way that they were all looking at me. There was something like awe in their expressions, but there was something else there too. Something that shuddered and recoiled. I desperately tried to remember the words I’d been singing, if I had gotten them right. I had the horrible sense that I might have subverted something holy.

Adam Bromley was the one to break the silence.

“Well now. You never told us you were getting private training!”

And just like that, the spell was broken. The unexpressed disgust sank back beneath their faces, and the others took up the idea almost with relief. A beautiful voice, they told me, what trick did they teach me to make it resonate like that? I forced a smile and said something non-committal and when we took up the tune again, I was careful to sing only the words that were on the page in front of me.

My own relief was short-lived. When I got home, I found the skin I had left was being pulled apart by the restless movements of the mouths. Blood stained the underside of my shirt, and I couldn’t stop the moans and hissings any more than I could have controlled a spasm or a muscular tic.

I didn’t sleep that night, and called in sick to work the next day. I lay on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling, trying very hard not to move.

It wasn’t any use. My skin had become so fragile that even getting up and walking to the kitchen caused it to split, the blood barely having time to dry before the wound began to twitch and whisper. All my fascination was gone now, as were all my attempts to ignore what was happening. All I did was lie on the bed, and let myself slowly drown in my own body. I lived like that for a week.

When next Friday evening came, my entire body burst into song.

I writhed and moaned and hummed without will, without choice, throwing out snatches of hymn before discarding them as not what I wanted, not right. And for the first time, the indistinct murmurs and whispers grew louder, began to form words. Prayers that had been chewed out of shape, pleas for more, more mouths, more brothers and sisters, to come out of hiding and join the great curdling of flesh.

This went on for the entire night.

That was when I decided that I needed to do something. I’d let… whatever this was go on for too long, long beyond the point of saving myself. But I wanted to tell someone first. So I dragged myself to my computer, and searched as best I could. It’s difficult to type with only a confusion of tongues.

And that’s where you came in. You aren’t special. You were just the closest place that didn’t either ignore my emails, or reply with not so gentle suggestions that I see a psychologist.

I don’t think I’ll be leaving my home again, once I get back. I doubt I’ll even bother uncovering, although there’s no-one there to see me. For all that I wanted to let someone know, I don’t want to be seen.

The cupboard below the stairs locks from the inside. I can push the key out from underneath the crack in the door.

Whatever is happening to me, I won’t allow it come to fruition.

Post-statement follow-up: There wasn’t anyone under the stairs when I went to check. The lock on cupboard door was broken, and so was the one on the back door. Either Ms Ness was, um… successful in her attempts to… halt her transformation, and a housebreaker with some seriously questionable motives took what was- what was left of her. Or she wasn’t. And her resolve either waned or the situation was, um. Taken out of her hands. Or. Whatever she had instead of hands.

I wasn’t… going to record this. It’s not my job, strictly speaking, but I was reading some of the old statements, and this one just… sort of caught my eye. And I’ve seen the Archivist and some of the others do recordings, and it just looked so… I wanted to try it out. I’ll be taking the tape with me, though. None of the others need to know about this.