#it's such a comfort season and era

[nobleriver]

DOCTOR WHO

Smith and Jones (3.01)

[lumism]

do you know that quiet kid experience of finally speaking up while in a group except you suddenly don't know what to do about eye contact so you always end up looking at only one particular person who you know will stop and listen to you, and then they do it with such attentiveness and authority that everyone else stops to listen as well. because i think that when they first started hanging out with lucas and dustin, mike would have been that person to will.

[kybercrystals94]

Six Weeks

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 22 - Prompts: Bleeding through Bandages // Reopening Wounds

Rated: T (for mentions of injury) | Words: 1391

“You have two choices, captain. You can spend the next six weeks in medical under the careful watch of a medic to make sure you don’t do anything stupid; or, you go home for six weeks and let your brothers make sure you don’t do anything stupid.” 

Omega rolls her eyes. “You forget it was my brothers who taught me most of my ‘stupid’ stunts, Hera.” 

“Maybe,” Hera admits. “However, one look at your injuries, and I have a feeling they’ll become the most insufferable mother nexus you’ve ever seen until you’re cleared for active duty.”

“That’s not a feeling, Hera,” Omega groans, trying to shrug into her jacket with her one good arm, “That’s a kriffing fact. I’m never going to hear the end of it when they find out what happened.” 

“You haven’t told them yet?” Hera gasps, helping Omega thread her injured arm through the other sleeve. 

“Of course not. If I did, they’d be storming the base right now demanding to see me. It’s not like I’m on my deathbed, Hera. I crashed, I survived, I’m fine.”

“Your definition of ‘fine’ needs work.”

Omega slides off the medical cot, favoring her left leg. “I’ll take that into consideration while I’m forced to lie around for a month and a half.” 

“Good.”

As Omega starts to limp out of medical, Hera stops her, pulling her into an embrace, carefully avoiding Omega’s cracked ribs. “I’m so happy you’re alright, Megs.” 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Omega mutters with a grin. 

Hera laughs. “Don’t give your brothers too much trouble, got it?” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

**

On General Syndulla’s orders, Omega is not allowed to fly herself back to Pabu. Instead, she is being transported by a shiny new recruit everyone calls Iggy, for whatever reason. They land in the middle of the planet’s night cycle, Omega directing Iggy to the cave that typically houses her own ship when it isn’t being held hostage by Hera. 

“Need help with your bags, captain,” Iggy asks as Omega pushes herself unsteadily to her feet. 

Omega waves him off. “It’s one bag, and I’ve got it. I’m not a complete invalid.” 

That makes Iggy grin. “Understood, captain.”

Despite protests, Iggy does help her down the ramp and hovers as Omega gets her footing on the uneven cave floor. He tries to convince her to let him walk her up to the house, but Omega insists that she’s fine. She finds one of Batcher’s long pieces of driftwood the hound has a habit of hoarding in the corner. “See, I’ve got a walking stick, I’ll be fine.” 

“If you’re sure,” Iggy relents. He gives a sloppy salute. “See you in six weeks?” 

“Six weeks,” Omega agrees. 

Omega watches him off, leaning heavily on her makeshift cane. Somehow, being so close to her brothers and their anticipated mothering makes her feel less valiant about her wounds. No matter how old she gets, how experienced she becomes, she feels like a child again with her brothers nearby to protect her. 

As she makes her way up the worn path, her injuries make themselves known. The laceration on her thigh pulses under the bandage, her sprained shoulder and elbow ache in her sling, her cracked ribs throb with every intake of air. Maybe she should have let Iggy carry her bag. 

Omega focuses on her surroundings, the familiar sound of nighttime breathing around her, the muted roll of waves on the beach. The scent of fresh air and sea laced with the sweet smell of local flora. How many dark nights did she sit with her brothers, watching the stars and listening to stories? Countless nights leaning against Hunter or Crosshair or Wrecker until she fell asleep to the rumble of their voices, to then be coaxed awake to go to bed. 

When she finally makes it to the back door, she pulls out the key already tucked in her coat pocket, and makes her way inside. She drops her bag by the door, propping her stick next to it, then limps as quietly as she can to the kitchen. She hopes to find leftover supper put away, or, better yet, cookies in the corner cupboard. 

She checks for the cookies first and finds them, plucking the box from the shelf and putting it on the counter before turning to get two cups. Right on time, the kitchen light clicks on, and Omega smiles. 

“Omega?” Hunter asks groggily. 

She doesn’t turn. “Took you long enough,” Omega says lightly. “Hungry? I was just making myself a snack.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming home?” 

“I wanted it to be a surprise. Did it work?” 

Hunter snorts. “We would’ve waited up for you if we’d known.”

“Exactly,” Omega says, moving to get out the milk, “you old guys need your sleep.” 

She hears Hunter step closer. “Omega, are you injured?” 

“I’ll be alright,” Omega says, but her body betrays her and she nearly stumbles on a side step. 

Hunter catches her bad elbow. 

The pain is immediate, and Omega tries so hard to stifle the cry that reactively comes. It only partially works, the sound escaping like a shrill whine in the back of her throat. 

“What–where are you hurt?” Hunter demands, withdrawing his grip but stepping closer. 

Omega leans against the counter, waiting for the wave of pain to fade. “Uh, that’s not a short list,” she grits out. 

“You need to sit down,” Hunter says. “Did you walk all the way here from the cavern?”

“Yeah, not the wisest decision I’ve ever made,” Omega admits. 

She finally turns around, letting the light expose her visible injuries. She hasn’t looked in a mirror recently; however, she knows must look even more awful than she feels. The look in her brother’s eyes confirms it. 

His expression tightens. “You should be in a medical bay.” 

“Well, it was that or this, and I’d take an opportunity to visit my brothers any day.” Omega lifts her good arm, and Hunter brings it over his shoulder, taking most of Omega’s weight as she hobbles into the common room. Omega is thankful he doesn’t try to carry her. 

Once she’s settled on the couch, Hunter looms over her. “Well, I’d like that long list of injuries now.” 

With a sigh, she gives it to him, doing her best not to gloss over pertinent details. When she gets to the laceration on her leg, Hunter looks down at the bandaging. “Looks like you reopened it with your little hike from the beach,” he says, and Omega glances down. A small bloom of blood stains the careful wrap. 

“Kriff,” Omega curses. 

Hunter massages the bridge of his nose, heaving a lung deep sigh. “I’ll check it over and get it re-wrapped. We’ll send for AZI in the morning.” 

Omega nods, sinking into the worn cushions. “Okay.” 

Hunter stands up, but before he leaves, he rests a hand on Omega’s head, calloused fingers tousling her hair. “It’s good to see you, kid.” 

“You too,” Omega returns softly. 

She knows her brother will take care of her, just like he always has. 

**

Omega wakes to sunlight pouring through her window. Miraculously, neither Wrecker or Crosshair woke up during the night while Hunter redressed her wounds and got her situated in bed. She can’t even remember Hunter turning out the bedroom light before she fell asleep. 

She turns her head and sees an old comm unit on her bedside table, a torn piece of flimsi propped against it. Do not get up. Call if you need anything it says in scrawled letters. Omega rolls her eyes and smiles. 

“Do you think she’s awake?” Wrecker’s version of a whisper practically rattles the door. 

“If she wasn’t, she is now,” Crosshair hisses back. 

Omega’s smile deepens. “I’m awake!” she calls out. 

The door flies open, Wrecker’s exuberant presence filling the room. “Megs! Why didn’t you tell us why you were coming?” he cries. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Omega says, laughing, moving to push herself up on her good elbow.

Crosshair is leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest. “Liar. You just didn’t want to tell us you crashed a stolen TIE fighter.” 

“It’s a good story, I promise,” Omega assures him. 

The ex-sniper smirks at her. “It better be.”

END

A/N: I actually had a little bit more written for this; so I might add a second part if I get that portion finished ;-;

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

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[virginsexgod69]

❝Here for You❞

paring: Rick Grimes x f!Reader

summary: After Lori's death, you're there to comfort Rick in any way he needs.

Set in season 3 in the prison after Lori's death

word count: 1,569

content warnings: NSFW // smut // angst // hurt no comfort // pining

cross posted on ao3!

You've always had a thing for Rick. Ever since he arrived at the camp in Atlanta, you had your eye on him.

But he was married.

You weren't a home-wrecker. You wouldn't dare intrude on the happy relationship of a man who was reunited with his family he thought was dead. But that didn't stop you from stealing glances. Sometimes you swore you could feel his blue eyes staring at you too. At some point, those stolen glances turned into the two of you looking longingly at each other. Maybe, just maybe, he felt the same about you?

But be was married.

The longing looks weren't the only thing setting your heart ablaze. It was the way Rick would place his hands on your hips whenever he needed to get by. The way his touch would linger. Not only that, but he was so protective of you, but never controlling . He even took the time to teach you how to properly use a gun. And he always, always made sure you had something to eat, even if it meant less for him. He had to have liked you just a little bit, right?

But be was married.

You knew for sure you'd never have a shot with Rick after you found out Lori was pregnant. Even if nobody could be sure the baby's his, he still stuck by her and who were you to get between that.

But still, that did nothing to stop the fleeting moments between the two of you. In fact, they seemed to happen even more. Maybe he indulged in his desires a bit to soothe his aching heart from the pain of not really knowing if his unborn baby was his. Despite all of this, you fought hope. You wanted him so so bad, but you knew there wasn't a chance in hell it would happen.

Because he was married.

But then he wasn't. Shit hit the fan: the farm was overrun by walkers, Sophia turned, Shane was killed, Andrea never came back, a prison became a home, a baby was born... oh , and Lori died.

It's not like that made you happy. You were sad that she didn't get to say goodbye, that she didn't get time with her newborn, that Rick lost his wife. It took a toll on him. He wasn't the same. He was crazy even. Everyone was on edge around him, constantly walking eggshells as to not set him off. There was just so much tension.

And the tension felt even more uncomfortable as the two of you made your way back to the prison after an unsuccessful run. The tension practically filled the little green car with all the words left unsaid, questions left unasked, feelings left unknown. So, you decided to speak to him for the first time in months.

"Are you okay?" you asked timidly.

His knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel even tighter.

" 'M fine," he mumbled not taking his eyes off the road.

That was a damn lie and you both knew it.

"Rick," you said softly, "we're alone now. If you want to talk abou-"

"I said I'm fine!"

He may not have wanted to talk, but you could tell he needed to be comforted and you wanted to be the one to offer him that comfort, no matter how he wanted it. No matter how he needed it.

You placed a gentle hand on his knee, much like how he used to do to you before everything happened.

He sighed with relent before pulling the car over and putting it in park. He placed his hand on top of yours and looked over at you. You fought not to get lost in the sea of his blue eyes as you stared back at him.

"I'm.. I'll be fine, I promise."

You leaned closer to him and placed a gentle hand on his cheek and he leaned into your touch.

"Y'know I'm here to comfort you, right? In any way you need me, I'm here," you promised.

His baby blue eyes drifted from yours down to your lips. His whole demeanor changed. He relaxed for the first time in a while. So much so, he let his inhibitions go as he pulled you closer and crashed his lips into yours.

So many feelings rushed through your head the second your lips made contact. You were shocked. You dreamed and fantasized about this moment forever and now that it was finally happening, you weren't going to let it slip through your fingers. You reciprocated the kiss, indulging in every second before Rick hastily pulled away.

"I'm so sorry," he said between gentle pants "I shouldn't have done that."

Your heart sank. You resented that he regretted your happiest moment.

"Rick," you said with your forehead still against his, "I want this. I want you ." You didn't care how desperate you sounded. Once you got a taste of Rick, you needed more.

And perhaps he felt the same about you because he didn't hesitate to pull you back in for another kiss. Trying your best not to break the kiss, you climbed from the passenger seat onto his lap. His tongue found its way into your mouth and tasted you as if he'd never get another taste. You moaned against his mouth as you tangled your hands in his curly hair. His hands traversed your body before practically tearing off the button up shirt you wore.

"You sure you want this?" he asked. His blue eyes, glistening in the sunlight, looked at you with uncertainty. You could tell he wanted this, but even more so he didn't want to hurt you.

You responded by grinding against his hardening bulge as you pulled him in for a sloppy kiss. His hands firmly gripped your hips as ground you onto his clothed erection. He pulled away from your mouth and placed open mouthed kisses down your neck. You didn't miss the occasional grunts you coaxed out of him which only encouraged you to keep going. He reached up and unclasped your bra, slid it off your arms, and tossed it aside. Embarrassed by the exposure, you automatically moved to cover yourself, but Rick caught your wrists.

"Don't. Let me see you. You're so beautiful," he rasped.

Oh Rick. He was even sweeter than you anticipated which set you ablaze and drove the butterflies in your tummy crazy. You needed him. You hurried to undo his belt as he was fondling your breasts while placing kisses along your collar bones. He lifted his hips just enough for you to pull his pants down. He took a nipple into his mouth as you palmed his bulge through his boxers.

"I-I need you," you wantonly moaned.

" 'M all yours."

You freed his rock hard erection from his boxers and stroked it a few times before moving to pull off your own pants. Rick helped you get out of them, stopping for a second to admire the wetness accumulated in your panties. He pulled them aside and lined his dick with your entrance, letting you slowly sink down on it. He stretched you so good that the pain only added to your pleasure.

"I've fantasized about you since you arrived at the camp in Atlanta," you confessed.

"I can't say I haven't wanted you this way for a while too. Whenever I caught you staring at me with those doe eyes, my imagination ran wild."

Once you felt comfortable enough, you began to move. You held onto his shoulders for support as you bounced on his dick. He threw his head back as he moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. He couldn't take it anymore and held onto your hips again as he thrusted up into you. He watched you with admiration in his eyes as your breasts bounced with each and every one of his thrusts.

"You feel so good around my cock, princess."

"Oh god Rick, I think I'm gonna-"

You didn't get to finish your sentence since he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you down for another kiss. Your walls clenched around him as his thrusts grew sloppy. You were both about to cum.

"That's it, cum for me Lori."

You both froze. The butterflies in your tummy were stabbed to death by the shards of your broken heart. You felt a lump in your throat as you tried to hold back the hot tears burning the corners of your eyes. Rick looked at you brokenheartedly with shame swimming in his eyes as you pulled yourself off of him.

"Lor- er, Y/N, I'm sor-"

"Don't."

God you sounded so... broken .

You both dressed yourselves in awkward silence. Rick sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He sounded like he wanted to say something, but decided against it, which was good because you'd have ignored him anyway.

"The sun's setting, we should get back to the prison," you said cooly.

"Y/N, I-"

"Just stop!"

A beat of silence passed and Rick finally started up the car and resumed the drive back to the prison.

You let your tears fall silently as you stared out the window, but you eventually closed your eyes. Your stomach churned at the sight of his wedding band's reflection in the window, signifying that even though his wife was dead, he was still married.

[rhysepoof]

Arcane season 2 aka The Gays and Lesbians' Divorce Era™

Spoilers For Arcane S2 Below

These poor babies

[10yearsofdnp]

January 5, 2015: Dan and Phil host their first radio show of 2015, where they discuss New Year's resolution fails and an unlikely friendship between a dog and a tiny horse! 📻🎧🐴

[fanfic-the-wish-your-heart-makes]

Obvious Santa — Nygmobblepot in December (Gotham Secret Santa 2024)

Dedication: Hi, @out-there-tmblr, I'm your @gotham-secret-santa this year 🤗🎅 From your posts & reblogs I deduced that you're more of a what-they-have-is-wonderful-but-they-should-keep-anyone-else-out-of-it Nygmobblepot shipper, so I wrote my first ever Nygmobblepot fanfic without a reader ❤️ It got soooooo much longer than I thought it would be, from headcanons to a big one shot (at least for me, advice for my future self: don't do this again because you might get ill and then be stressed becauae the story needs to be finished 🫣���). I hope you enjoy it 🤗

Also, if you prefer to read it on AO3, it's there too :)

Plot: Noticing how often Oswald dreads getting up in the morning and knowing how lonely the time before Christmas can be, Ed wants to bring more joy into his boyfriend's December with lots of love and an advent calendar. Spoilers: for season 3 episode 5 (what Oswald & Ed's positions are) Warnings: the main characters thinking of murdering someone, slight insecurity (Ed's after years of loneliness), a bit of grief (Oswald about his mother), physical pain (Oswald's leg), Oswald being grumpy in the morning. This is very fluffy though 🥰 Word count: 4209 ❄️🌨🎅💚💜❄️🌨🎅💚💜❄️🌨🎅❄️

It was a cold November morning and both Ed and Oswald lay close together in bed when their alarm woke them at six p.m., making Ed cover his ears at the volume, careful to keep them under the cozy warmth over both their bodies.

Meanwhile Oswald shuffled in the bed, pulling the blanket towards him, making cool air hit his boyfriend's sensitive arms in the process. "Osw—" Ed stopped himself, realizing that Oswald was still asleep. There was no use trying to get back under the blanket, he figured, looking at the time and mentally going though today's schedule.

Carefully, so as not to scare the sleeping figure next to him, he brushed a black hair strand to its correct place, admiring the adorably scrunched-up face of his dangerous friend and boyfriend, and whispered, "Wake up, sleepyhead."

"Ah!" Oswald shot up and closed his eyes again. "What is the matter with you?" "What?" Ed's hands sunk to his sides. "I'm wishing you a good m—" "Why would you wake me up?" He must be confused. "We need to work today. The alarm already—" "I don't care whether I need to get out of bed, don't ever wake me like that again. Being kidnapped once is enough." "Kidnapped?" Ed was confused. "I saved you. Your wounds were—I needed you to lie still." Oswald huffed, out of habit, then remembered. "Whatever." He lay back down.

With Ed having gotten out of bed, the sheets weren't as warm as expected and he quickly got up again, wincing as he felt how cold the house was this morning. He glared at the window for a few seconds, not ready for the day.

"Here's your shirt." Ed stood before him, holding the piece of clothing, a puzzled expression on his face but keeping quiet. "Ready for the day?" Perhaps Oswald just needed an hour or more to wake up. "No, Ed, but it will have to do." "Okay." He was still curious but let Oswald be for the moment.

The day wouldn't bring him any clarity, by noon Oswald had seemingly already forgotten about this morning, and Ed didn't want to bring his mood down, loving to see his partner happy again.

❄️🌨❄️🌨❄️🌨❄️ The next day, Ed tried tried a different approach, getting up before Oswald and pointing out the falling snow once the other had sat up in bed. "Look, Oswald, isn't it wonderful, snow this early? According to the weather report from yesterday, all of it will be gone by seven." "Ah." Oswald barely threw the snow a glance. Okay. Well. That was...what did Oswald want? Something to look forward to? "Everything okay, Ed?" Well, at least he was as perceptive as usual. "With me, yes." Oswald gasped. "What? Did I—" But his boyfriend had already gotten up and turned his back. "AHh." "Oswald?" The black-haired man was clutching his leg and Ed suddenly realized what the problem was, "Is the cold hurting your leg more?" All he got was a nod. "I'll get you something warm—" "No time! I mean, thank you, Ed, but it's better to go early and return early."

Okay. At least Ed knew more now. That was a start.

❄️🌨❄️🌨❄️🌨❄️ The first time Oswald woke up the next morning, he was too tired to think about whether the alarm clock had truly rang or not. If it had, he was sure Ed would let him know.

When Oswald awoke the second time, he found the other side of the bed empty, and buried himself under the blanket until Ed came into the room and sat down next to him.

"I have something for your leg." He held out two pillows of sorts, far from the cushioned things he preferred to put under his leg. "No offence, Ed, but those don't look comfortable. But there's no time anyways. We've gotta get ready." He sighed. "Which is why," Ed proclaimed proudly, "I set the alarm so that you'd have..." he checked the time, "five minutes more than usually, and you usually already stay in bed a bit before getting up.

He set the cushions down. "Oh! And these are cherry pit cushions, an alternative for hot-water bottles. They're leak-proof — obviously — and can fit more snugly around your ankle and knee. You could also try longer hot-water bottle ones and if that doesn't work, it was just an idea I had, that-that—"

Oswald held up a hand. "Enough talking for now. You said we had five extra minutes?" He pulled on Ed's hand. "Y-yes, plus the usual time. I thought I'd start with this amount so I wouldn't disrupt your sleeping pattern." "Thank you, dear." He began to arrange the cushions." Now come back to bed."

Ed did so, making sure they were both under the blanket while Oswald was still awake. He rested his head, looking at Ozzie, who'd closed his eyes again, hand to the side with his palm open. Ed took it in his and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I hope it helps." "Mhm, already does."

❄️🌨❄️🌨❄️🌨❄️ Ed sat to the side of the long table, tapping his fingers on a pen and admiring Oswald's energetic speech about electricity, how simple he made the facts Ed had explained to him sound, how much passion he put into chosen words to keep his audience's attention.

"But Mayor Cobblepot, wouldn't it be better for the economy if we let them be cold?" Oswald's head snapped around. "Did you even listen to what I just said? What was the last topic I was on?" "Boss, I'm sorry, I-I, the stress, my-my..." "Shush." Oswald turned to Ed. "My chief of staff has made some notes on this topic. Could you send them to this...stressed men?" Ed straightened his back, "Of course." He'd need to sum it up in simpler terms. Much simpler ones.

"Good. Now, could we move forward to the topic of Christmas robberies?" The same man from before spoke up, "But it's November." Ed fixed him with a glare. He'd happily get rid of him for Oswald. Contrary to his expectations, the secret kingpin only huffed. "Please learn about prevention versus damage control. I'm sure you'll find a good example in Gotham's electricity and heating problem."

Not that Oswald himself wouldn't order any robberies in that time, it was just good to keep up appearances, and criminal or not, he wanted small businesses to be able to build something for themselves while bigger stores could...become a bit more grateful for the power they had.

"Meeting dismissed." The people at the table started to leave quickly, with one of them being exceptionally fast. Ed called him back when he reached the door, "Wait." The man turned around. "The mayor meant what he said. You can collect my summary..." He thought of a time the man wouldn't normally come here, "the day after tomorrow." "O-okay. Thank you, Mr. Nygma." He almost hastened out but stopped himself in time to nod at Oswald.

"Well, that was an idiotic pick by the governemnt", Ed remarked after closing the door. "As opposed to my chief of staff." Oswald pulled him closer by the waist. "Because you are the most suitable, intelligent, thoughtful man who could be in this position." He put his hands to either side of Ed's face and the taller man quickly understood, leaning down to meet his lips, a gentle mix of affection and a strong admiration for each other, with Oswald holding Ed close tightly while the latter made little sighs, overjoyed at being appreciated.

"Now let's get to work on our other job. My leg is feeling much better today. I may even take your shortcut up the stairs." When Oswald walked through the corridor, Ed almost had to keep up with him.

❄️🌨❄️🌨❄️🌨❄️ Compared to the government's people, the crime families and other members of the underworld showed much more respect for Oswald, Ed observed happily.

The King of Gotham could speak freely in their presence and despite the fact that they obviously knew what he might do to them should they anger him, their attention was more genuine.

Ed was in awe too, listening intently to all his partner had to say, "...whis is why, I of course understand the importance of family, especially nearing winter and the festivities often taking place then." One woman turned her head away from Oswald, looking touched, angry?

Ed could understand her well: before meeting Oswald, December had been a lonely time for him too many years in a row. The former forensic scientist had tried to start various conversations with what he thought were easy topics: the new season, baking, plans for the holidays. Yet it seemed that whatever he chose, his colleagues would rather have conversations with anyone else, no matter the topic.

Now he had Oswald, though...except that if he was honest with himself, the other man had done most of the talking, had earned the most successes. He was still speaking now, at least twenty minutes after Ed's last comment Ed.

"...after that, you two will call your people and follow my plan exactly, which—" When Oswald saw Ed, he paused, "which you already have, so no need to go over it again. Everything clear?" "Yes, boss."

What happened to the rest of Oswald's speech? Was he exhausted? He was already limping towards his car —so as to not make it too obvious that he and Ed lived together—, seemingly not much different than usual.

On their ride home, Oswald noticed how quiet Ed was in comparison to his usual talkative self. "What's wrong, dear?" Ed was startled out of his thoughts. "How did you—nothing." Oswald rolled his eyes. "Be honest, Ed." "I won't bite", he added with a chuckle and after some silence, a press of his boyfriend's hands.

He was right: Ed shouldn't have to fear rejection, not after Oswald making it clear that he treasured him. "You did almost all the talking this day and it made me wonder... How important am I really, Oswald? I-in your business. And the government." Oswald blinked. "Whatever do you mean? You're a valuable asset in the office and concerning matters of the crime world. We need intelligent people like you, who can do things like...quote that study I brought up today." Ed snuffled. "But I merely read a meta study!" Oswald handed him his handkerchief, his initials stitched into a corner in black. "See, I don't even know what that is." "It's a study summoning up other studies and often judging them. So, I didn't even sum them up myself."

The King of Gotham shook his head. "Oh, Ed, you can be so smart but when something concerns you..." He put his hand to Ed's chest. "...you can be too critical. You don't need to read studies or sum them up, you've got other things to do. Didn't you write today's schedule?" "I did." "And didn't you help me prepare my pitch?" "That too, but Oswald, I barely did any of the talking. Wh-which is fine but compared to you..." He gripped onto Oswald's fingers, afraid that he might retract them.

"Also, I might be good at making speeches but one woman turned around in annoyance, so, nobody's perfect." "What? I thought she was just reminded of a lonely December. The time leading up to Christmas can be so lonely..."

He slumped back in the car, the rigid posture from the day gone. Oswald joined him in letting his guard down and leaned close. "I love you, Ed. You're so precious to me and should you ever want to speak more in meetings, you'll be free to do so." "I love you too, Oswald."

They stayed nestled together, seatbelts still on, until the car came to a stop in front of the Van Dahl mansion. As soon as they were inside with no one around, they embraced each other, glad to finally have complete privacy. Oswald meant to kiss Ed silly and whether that succeeded in fully cheering him up or not, he hoped to show Ed his worth with a gift sometime. Ed's eyes lit up with his boyfriend's attention. Multiple gifts. There was still time until Christmas.

❄️🌨❄️🌨❄️🌨❄️ Of course Oswald's leg didn't simply stop hurting. One day in late November, he called for a quick discussion break in the midst of a meeting while clutching his leg, alerting Ed, who scrambled to fetch painkillers for him and asked whether he wanted something warm to help combat the pain. "I could fasten it around your leg." Oswald refused. "I can't afford to show weakness in here." He huffed. "I thought you knew that." "O-of course." The word 'sweetheart' died right on his tongue. "Thanks", Oswald at least managed to say before putting a pill into his mouth and washing it down with water.

Even hours after he swallowed it, his mood wasn't up again, instead seeming worse. It went as far as ignoring Ed! He didn't seem ill, no, if Ed had to guess, he'd say he was sad.

"Oswald," Ed started carefully when they were at home again, "What's wrong?" He approached his partner and immediately noticed the tears in his eyes, as well as the black smears of make-up underneath them.

"It's almost December," he began shakily, "which was...when—when my mother would bake us special things and—" He broke into sobs.

Ed sat down next to him and held one of his hands, letting his friend gesticulate with the other in search for words.

"I miss her so so much. As a kid, I used to look forward to the baked goods and the meals but...now I wish she was here on a boring day, even if just for a few minutes. That I may come back from work to find her here, welcoming me with a hug."

Ed kept holding onto him but rummaged in his pockets for a tissue and gave it to Oswald, who blew his nose loudly through more crying.

"I-I know that that can't happen, though. People return from the dead but she's been too long gone for that." He blew his nose again, then looked up at Ed with teary eyes. "At least I know I'll have you with me, Ed, even if my mother isn't here to pass December with me. You won't die too, right? Promise me to be careful." Ed nodded sincerely. "You have my word."

He crept closer until he could put his arms around Oswald and they stayed like this for a while, until he looked to their joined hands and consequently to Oswald's knee, which might hurt after staying in the same position until now.

They went to bed earlier than usual that night, Oswald cuddling up to Ed and assuring himself that he'd stay there with a tight grip on his arm. Meanwhile, Ed started to think of ways to make Oswald's first December without his mother more bearable.

🎅💚💜🎅💚💜🎅 When Oswald awoke on December 1st, he confidently ignored the date. For all he knew, it could still be November, after all. He sighed. Ed was still asleep and squinting at the clock confirmed that it was too early to get out of bed.

Maybe he could warm those blanket things. He rolled to the side and felt Ed's warmth through their pajamas. Ah, or he could simply inch closer and forget his worries in the warmth. Ed made a small noise. Yes, he'd do that. Oswald huddled against the warmer man and closed his eyes.

The beginning of a new month didn't go unnoticed to him: with mayoral duties came stays in government buildings and decorations. Small trees, twigs and whatnot were already in too many corners.

Oswald gripped his cane tightly. "So this is what they do with money lacking in areas like electricity. I really hope they take our proposals seriously." "So do I." Ed clapped his hands. "Oswald, do you have time for a minute?" That made him wary, "Why, what is it?" "Just a surprise." Ed nearly tugged on Oswald's sleeve but let it be. The suit was much too elegant.

They went to an empty room together, Ed's eyes gleaming with something akin to mischief. "I have multiple doors—" "Seriously, darling?" Ed nodded and Oswald sighed, ready to attempt to solve the riddle his dear chief of staff would throw at him.

"I have multiple doors you can open but only once a day. I last longer than Christmas but end days before New Year's Eve. What am I?" Oswald blinked. "A building, house, uh...gingerbread house!" He laughed. "You want to make one together? When I was younger, it would've been too expensive and we were only two people anyways..."

He caught Ed's amazed look. "Did I solve it?" His boyfriend laughed softly. "Your answer is smart: a gingerbread house is usually made before Christmas and often kept until then but often already eaten up by New Year's Eve. But no: it wasn't my answer." "It isn't?" "No. The real answer is 'an advent calendar'." "A calendar?" "With gifts. One each day from today until Christmas. Or Christmas Eve. It's supposed to be something to look forward to each day. I thought I could make one for you. So that, well—you deserve the best."

Oswald couldn't believe what he was hearing for a moment. Him, receiving gifts each day and because he deseved them? The next moment, he was already hugging Ed's middle, overjoyed. "You're so good to me, Ed." "I just want to be helpful." "Oh, you are and so much more! The thing with the heating cushions too."

Ed checked the time: they had to be in another room in three minutes. "Do you want today's gift right now? I didn't know whether you'd want it here or at home. I guess either are fine but maybe you should tell me in advance so I can make sure it's there."

Oswald thought about it. "We don't have much time left, do we?" "Two minutes now." "Then I say I admire the best gift of them all: you." He cupped Ed's cheeks and brought their lips together, feeling him breathe in deeply and snake a hand to his back in return.

They pulled apart in time, both very aware that they couldn't look suspicious. Yet when they entered the meeting room, both bore a strong sparkle in their eyes.

🎅💚💜🎅💚💜🎅 "They're leg warmers", Ed explained, after Oswald had fished for his gift in the velvet satchel he was given at home.

To Oswald's relief, they were black, harder to spot under dress pants. "Thank you." He stroked over the knitted fabric. "I didn't know I'd receive something this big on one day." He shrugged. "I was more expecting a picture slowly revealing each part of itself." Ed tilted his head. "Positively surprising", he concluded. "Come here!"

When they hugged, Ed smiled against Oswald's shoulder, a warm feeling of accomplishment spreading in him. "I planned them for the first day so that you can profit from them from the start." Oswald caressed his back. "Thinking everything through as you so often do." Ed was positively glowing. "Everything for you." He kissed him on the top of his head.

The following days Oswald continued to receive thoughtful or interesting things. One day it was a nice tie, another day an apron (Ed insisted that everyone could become a good cook), then a special blend of tea. Ed disliked when celebration was strongly associated with alcohol and Oswald didn't complain, treasuring each gift and making a point of trying each item the same day or afterwards when Ed could see him.

"Oh, darling, these things are all wonderful! If we weren't already together, mother would have to give you her blessing by now." His eyes watered. "I'm glad you see it this way. Most people haven't exactly liked my December-themed gifts." Ed wiped a tear away and caressed Oswald's face. "You're different. She would be so proud of you. Of your work as mayor, of our relationship, I hope." "She'd be glad to be the only woman in my life", Oswald mused. "Though you'd definitely cook together, hopefully without that rivalry you and Olga have going on."

Oswald raised a finger. "Seriously, Ed, it's not even Christmas yet and she's already asked me where you'll be spending the holidays! In very broken English but not with any less importance." Ed crossed his arms. "Well, you can tell her I'll be spending them in the kitchen." They broke into laughter, Oswald leaning against Ed and spilling a few tears as a result of the movement, but all together happy.

"Who was mean to you in Devember?" Ed stopped laughing. "Can I tell you some other time? This seems like enough sadness for a day." "Okay. Anytime."

🎅💚💜🎅💚💜🎅 The door to the Van Dahl mansion closed behind them and both sighed, stressed from today's activities. "If I have to explain the need for more sewerage filters one more time," Ed complained while taking off his scarf, "I'll make sure they're sleeping with the fishes. Dead fishes." "I could have them killed for you, dearest." "Won't be necessary, sweatheart. Let's just relax for now."

Oswald nodded. Too many people bored Ed with their stupidity and unwilligness to inform themselves about subjects they ought to understand.

"Wanna open your gift?" "Oh, yes, absolutely." "Today it doesn't come in a satchel. Do you want me to lead you to it with closed eyes instead?" "You know what: no! I actually—" He wanted Ed to have fun too, "Would you like to make a riddle out of it?" "A riddle?" Ed smiled widely. Oswald chuckled. "Yes. You have my permission for at least today. My brain could use an intellectual change from the people in City Hall." "That it could. Alright." He rubbed his hands, happy about the opportunity of making a riddle for his love, about being asked to.

"I am a shelter for many, yet no real man could live or bake under my roof despite me being made of things that can nourish." "A...you're a house", Oswald tried, "or building but not—gingerbread house! A gingerbread house. Did you buy us one?" Ed stepped to the side. "See for yourself. It's in the kitchen."

He took Oswald's arm and held it like a proper gentleman, leading him there. Once there, the giftee set his eyes on planes of gingerbread cookies and multiple types of decoration, all layed out on top of a cleaned surface.

"We'll make them ourselves. Oh, Ed this is wonderful!" He eyed the table. There was enough for two houses. "Do we build them today?" "If you want to." "Well then, let's make them right now." "Wait. If you want to, you can wear the apron you got." "No way! You planned this perfectly and I didn't even see it. I'll get it right away."

After they'd washed their hands, they set to work, both wearing aprons and happy expressions. Ed couldn't help but stare at Oswald occasionally, so immersed in his task but without any stiffness in his shoulders.

"This is more difficult than I thought it would be", Oswald remarked, trying to glue one part of a roof to the rest of his house for the third time. "I know, you have to wait for longer than I expected. Maybe there's too much water in the mixture. Let me hold the other roof part, that way it'll be done sooner." "Thanks."

Ed coated two sides of a matching gingerbread piece with the mix of powdered sugar and water and held it to Oswald's, their fingers brushing. To their joy, neither pulled away as haters would've once claimed would happen, that no everyone would recoil from their touch. Instead, they positioned their hands in a way that made them rest against each other.

Oswald looked around the room. "How long do we have to wait?" Ed laughed. "Of course you'd grow impatient." "Well, I'm a very busy man." "Oh, are you,....Mr. Mayor?" "Why, Mr. Chief of Staff, what do you suggest we do? I can be ready in...how long do we have to hold this for again?" He giggled. "I think we can let go now." They did, though still not wanting to be apart.

"What would you say if I told you that I'd gotten you a green bathrobe?" Oswald teased. "Really?" "Yes. I couldn't resist getting you a gift and you should feel more at home." He shrugged. "I can't very well install a neon sign on the facade. Or can I?" He turned his gingerbread house around, revealing a sign made by glueing green pearls onto the surface.

"How...when did you make this? How did I not notice?" "You were too busy staring at my face, dear." Ed mock-defended himself, "That time was thoughtfully invested." He countered Oswald's stare. "At least...if it payed off." He winked at him and in seconds Oswald leaned over to kiss him. What a wonderful time December would be this year.

🎅💚💜🎅💚💜🎅 Author's note: Happy holidays/vacations, everyone! 🤗🎅🧑‍🎄🤶🎄 As always, I love receiving comments, and have a good time ❤️

[kai-ovillager]

Quem eu amo.

Jayce sabia, sabia que sentia algo a mais por seu "parceiro" de laboratório. Sabia que aquilo não era só uma amizade comum, unida por um interesse em uma "magia". Jayce não sabia explicar, e não sabia se devia. Ele cresceu dentro de uma família pequena, e sabia que deveria seguir um padrão. Então, ele começa a se envolver com Mel Medarda, e ela era linda, tudo que ele poderia sonhar, a mulher de seus sonhos, era o que ele dizia para si mesmo todas as noites antes de dormir, mas no fim, seus sonhos voltavam para o seu parceiro de laboratório.

Mas apesar disso, precisava manter as aparências. O que as pessoas iriam pensar se descobrissem que Jayce Tails e Viktor tinham um caso? O que Mel pensaria? Então ele para de se envolver com Viktor, para evitar possíveis rumores.

E no fim, não adiantou de nada, sonhava acordado com as caricias e o amor de Viktor. Sonhava em ter ele de volta. E quando ele ficou desacordado, por causa do hextech, passou dias dormindo no laboratório, e noites em claro, esperando por seu amado.

Quando Viktor acordou, ele sentiu seu coração derreter, ele estava diferente fisicamente, mas Jayce não ligava, ele continuava lindo. Ele abraça Viktor com paixão, mas logo retoma sua compostura, eles não estavam juntos.

E vendo ele ir embora, seu coração se despedaça novamente. Não aguentaria perde-lo de novo, mas sabia que era inútil tentar para-lo, se Viktor decidia algo, ele o faria, independente das tentativas de pará-lo.

Jayce se sente destruído, e quando vê o que o hextech iria causar, e vê o próprio Viktor dizendo que foi um erro, e que somente ele o poderia mostrar aquilo, Jayce encontra motivação para voltar, para salvar seu amor.

Com algumas dificuldades e contratempos, Jayce consegue fazer Viktor sair de sua desilusão e voltar a ser quem era, com todas as suas "falhas" e seus "defeitos", por quê era isso que fazia de Viktor, ele mesmo, e Jayce o amava a cada segundo. Ele não ligava mais para o que os outros pensariam, tudo já estava em caos, se alguém achasse ruim de dois homem estarem juntos, eles que se explodam! Jayce só queria amar Viktor, e ele então, se junta a seu amado, de uma maneira linda, transcendendo juntos, e podendo estar um ao lado do outro para sempre. Sem preocupações.

-Viktor, eu não me importo se você tem uma perna ruim, se você veio de Zaun, eu vou te amar de qualquer maneira, em todos os universos, com todas as possibilidades, você sempre vai ser quem eu vou amar. Eu quero estar com você pra sempre, e se isso significar virar uma borboleta cósmica, eu faço.

[k-martins]

Ohhh, I thought of an itafushi yuri au (but I guess yaoi would work too) for Halloween with Witch! Megumi and Werewolf! Yuuji basically taking the Farcillene plot from Dungeon Meshi.

Like, come on, there's a lot of tragic romance in you resurrecting your lover because you can't imagine the world without them and then it comes back to bite you in the ass.

And, wow, the more I think about it, the more excited I am getting (and because drawing Witch! Megumi is incredibly fun)

[bambiraptorx]

*puts Draxum in a skirt again* anyway I decided to try a new lighting style

[skepticbeliever-bookclub]

Hiya there, shippers & readers

After our usual game/watch-along round was profoundly derailed by some recent fandom events, we really feel like our response and the time we spent spilling our hearts in our fandom-vent channel made us that much closer. We got some new members and we've had a lot of new fun times. It feels like we're ready to embark on a new chapter of reading fic and discussing it together. It also brought about another sentiment; a special desire to interact with something in our beloved fanspace that doesn't always get a lot of love. That is, the steven fic.

And there is a lot of it, surprisingly. Ranging from the early years in the background of shyan or featuring in his own peculiar way in pairings and threesomes, either way, we decided that it was really time for us to show some love for fiction!Steven in hopes to inspire more. Due to that, we voted in 9 nominations and decided that the top 3 would stand as milestones in our Steven season journey. Among those three, the top of the vote was a very particular favourite of this mod's

under thy tongue by makemadej (santamonicayachtclub)

The book club as a whole seemed to agree that this fic is holistically a beautiful piece, that it reads like what it must feel like to observe the iconography of classic artists painting god and the angels in all their mythos as Steven navigates an ephemeral opportunity to be intimate with Ryan.

Rating: E

Summary: Ryan sprains his ankle because basketball and ends up staying at Steven's place. Guess how many beds there are.

Book Club Thoughts

First off, I'm a shyan shipper but…. this fic really sold me on this pairing we don't get enough opportunities to talk about steven/ryan as a pair esp since ryan is such an open book but he's the kind of guy who feels a lot of guilt about purchasing big things for himself and mean while Steven is more reserved but there has always been something so wonderfully hedonistic about him the setting of it feels very liminal, and it adds to the tone The nature behind Steven almost feeling like this is something he may not be allowed to have as the thought of Shane lingers over his head even though the dude is on the other side of the world, yet Steven is still there to take care of Ryan in all the terms. It's just how beautiful Steven's character and personality is written in this fic. i love stevens religion being used as a tool of indulgence rather than restriction. he is fully worshipping ryan. a man so beautiful you gotta experience him in a biblical sort of way And all of this being from Steven's pov just really fits his love of the nicer things and his appetite so well his saying "there's nothing wrong with wanting" feels so poignant to how he operates here to the end of the fic. He has always had desires but he doesn't steal and he didn't want to feel like he was stealing Ryan so when Ryan starts to ask him to do things that he--Steven-wants to do, it's surprising to him. it's about the devotion to god and Ryan's godlike physique that can't be anything other but the manifestation of god's love on earth i adore the dream-like quality of this fic. the liminal energy of the timeline and that they know they wont be staying together, yet it's still so intimate and loving There is such beauty in the way he is written; a kind, quiet, methodical individual. His language of love being acts of service is so fantastically written. It’s true service… and yet there’s the quiet self satisfaction Steven indulges in as he’s…. servicing Ryan….. This fic is a quiet, calming, dare I say meditative read. It’s comfort, somewhat bittersweet in the way their entanglement is temporary.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN US FOR OUR NEXT DISCUSSION? CHECK OUT THE FAQ, AND SEND US AN ASK! IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR FIC RECS, PLEASE CHECK OUT OUR READS, NOMINEES AND BOOK CLUB REC LISTS!

[densi-mber]

In Your Darkest Hours, Part 2

A/N: The continuation of yesterday’s story.

***

When Deeks came back 30 minutes later, he looked marginally better, but completely wrung out. He’d thrown on grey sweatpants and an old t-shirt that hung loosely on his frame. Suddenly he looked noticeably thinner to her, and she wondered if he’d been eating regularly.

“Hey, I got some food from that Italian place you like,” she said, feeling unaccountably awkward. She’d felt the same last time, but she’d quickly pushed her discomfort aside in her concern for Deeks.

“I’m not really hungry,” Deeks said, lowering himself onto the couch with an exhausted sigh.

“Deeks, you need to eat. Even if you don’t feel like it, you’ll feel better.”

“Fine.” He sighed, accepting a plate of reheated shells and cheese with green beans and a breadstick. Kensi settled opposite him with her own plate.

Since Deeks wasn’t maintaining the conversation like usual, she found herself taking up the mantle and chattering away. She was halfway through a story about the time she ate half a family size bag of skittles, when Deeks made a small noise. It was the softest of sounds, but she stopped talking immediately.

His eyes were closed, jaw clenched so tightly the tendons were visible, brows drawn together in a wince while his fingers curled tightly around a handful of his sweats. He inhaled through his nose, quick little breaths that became increasingly short and uneven. Her heart sank as she recognized the clear signs of an oncoming panic attack.

Shoving her plate to the side, she dropped to her knees in front of him as he fought for control.

“Deeks, it’s ok,” she said, internally hating herself for saying such a stupid thing. Obviously everything was the farthest it could be from ok. “Deeks, do you hear me?” While she spoke, Kensi curled her fingers around his, squeezing lightly.

He nodded once, eyes still closed, and tried to inhale kore deeply.

“That’s good, Deeks. I want you to focus on my hands, ok?” He nodded again, body shaking. “Good. Ok, breathe with me.”

After several minutes, the tension in Deeks’ body slowly eased, and he slumped against the couch. He cracked his eyes open, any lingering energy gone.

“Can I have some water?” he whispered.

“Of course.” Kensi rushed off to get it, returning with a full glass of cool water and pain medication. Deeks accepted both without a word. His hand shook when he took the glass, so Kensi stood close by just in case until he emptied it.

When he was done, she set it to the side, sitting next to him.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I needed a revision on one of my implants,” he explained softly, eyes dull and unfocused. “Because of the—the damage. Sometimes it hurts when I chew and,” his tongue flicked out to lick his bottom lip. “It puts me right back there.”

“Oh my god, Deeks. I’m so sorry,” Kensi apologized. “If I’d known—”

“It’s not your fault. I didn’t tell you,” he interrupted quickly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Kensi couldn’t completely hide the the hurt in her voice. She’d thought he trusted her.

“It caught me off-guard.” He lifted one shoulder in a tired shrug. “I thought I could handle it on my own. Besides, it’s not exactly a good look if you’re constantly falling apart.”

“Deeks, we all care more about your well-being than your performance at work,” she said. Deeks gave her a sad, bitter smile.

“I wish that were true. I’m lucky I got to stay this last time,” he mused.

Kensi pushed down her outrage at the revelation; Deeks needed her support now. Confronting whoever had made him hide his symptoms out of fear for his job could wait until later.

“Well, if I have any say in it, you’re not going anywhere. You just need to worry about taking care of yourself.”

“I’m not so great at that,” he murmured.

“That’s why I’m here.” Giving into impulse, Kensi brushed his bangs off his forehead. “Is there anything I can do?”

Deeks turned his head slightly, his eyes soft and vulnerable. “I’ve been having more nightmares again.” She could tell how much the admission had taken. “Could you distract me like you did last time?”

“Anything,” she agree immediately. Leaning forward, she grabbed the remote off the coffee table and switched on the TV. “The first step in a Kensi Blye distraction scheme is good garbage television. So, do you want to watch Monster-in-Law or a reruns of the original ‘Dark Shadows’?”

“Uh, second one,” Deeks decided. He pushed himself more deeply into the cushions while she flipped through channels.

“Ooh, it’s the 1890s era. The best ones in my opinion,” she commented.

“Mm, definitely.” She heard the hint of a smile in his voice.

A few minutes later, his head fell to her shoulder. She froze for a second, then when he didn’t move, she rested her cheek against soft curls brushing her skin.

[polarfarina]

Made some easy meat tomato sauce for dinner and mmmmm even though the tomato part was pre-done it was still so so good and satisfying. Look

So filling. So delicious

[kybercrystals94]

The Field Mouse

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 24 - Alternate Prompt: Vermin

Rated: G | Words: 796 A/N: I imagine this story taking place early-mid season 1 ;-;

Hunter’s senses follow Omega as she wanders around the meadow a little distance away, humming and murmuring to herself. He and his brothers work to unpack the cargo hold and organize it, a task they’d been putting off since before the war ended. But now, with credits hard to come by, unless being undercut by a sleazy Transdoshan, it seemed high time to try and sell off anything they didn’t absolutely need. 

They had come across Crosshair’s crate of armor. Hunter isn’t even sure which of them managed to get it off Kamino; however, they wordlessly set it aside in the “keep” of the clearing. 

Originally, Omega had tried to help, trailing after each of them with endless questions about what she could do and where she should be. Under the circumstances, she became more of a tripping hazard than helpful. So Hunter gave her the crucial task of scouting the perimeter of their camp (which he had already thoroughly done when they arrived while she was occupied with Tech’s discourse about the planet’s atmosphere). 

And as Hunter hoped, Omega’s scouting has now evolved into aimless exploration. She is safe and she is happy, which is all he truly wants for her. 

Then Omega cries out, a sharp, panicked thing that drives Hunter’s blood cold. 

“Omega!” he calls out, dropping the crate of parts from his arms and running in the direction he knows she is. He hears his brothers behind him, keeping pace but letting him lead. 

It doesn’t take more than a minute to find her. She’s kneeling in the tall grass, little hiccuping sobs emitting from her shaking form. 

“Omega?” Hunter asks, kneeling beside her. “What happened? Where are you hurt?” 

Omega looks up at him, face tearstained and lower lip trembling. “I’m not hurt,” she tells him, her voice so grief stricken it breaks his heart. “The baby mouse is!”

That catches him off guard. “A baby mouse?” he asks. 

Omega points to the ground in front of her, and a small, round eared creature lies there on its side, tiny chest panting rapidly. 

“An animal came out and tried to catch him. I chased it away, but I think it still hurt the mouse,” Omega wails, balled fists coming up to scrub at her face. “Is he going to die?” 

“Uh,” Hunter says dumbly. He can’t lie. Well…no! He can’t lie. “Yeah, kid, it's not gonna make it.” 

Omega cries harder, voice warbling out, “He’s my f-friend! He was try-trying to find some seeds on the ends of the grass, and I gave him-him some and then he started following me–” A sharp intake of choked breath. “--and I didn’t protect him from that terrible thing that tried to eat–to eat him!”

Hunter looks up at his brothers, silently pleading for one of them to step in. They avert their gazes from his. Cowards.

“You did your very best, Omega,” Hunter says, reaching out and putting a hand on her back in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. “But things still happen. It’s not your fault.” 

“He trusted me!” 

“He saw you as a source of food,” Tech says. 

Hunter sighs. Maybe he doesn’t want his brothers’ help after all. 

“Isn’t there anything we can do for him?” Omega pleads, now lifting her eyes to all-knowing Tech specifically. 

The engineer sputters out, “Well, there is, uh, not anything to do. It appears the creature will succumb to its injuries in short order.”

“If the little guy’s dying,” Wrecker says, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously, “Least he’s got his friend with ‘im so he’s not alone. Sounds like you were a good friend to the little guy.” 

Omega nods and sniffs noisily, wiping her nose on her sleeve. 

Hunter catches Echo making a face, but the man doesn’t say anything. 

The little rodent only lasts another minute before going still. Omega sniffles, her breathing shuddering in quiet little sobs. Hunter is about to suggest they head back to the ship when Omega asks in a tiny voice, “Can we bury him?” 

It isn’t how Hunter expected their quiet afternoon organizing their ship would go, standing next to the miniscule grave of a field mouse, his brothers beside him while Omega puts a bouquet of wildflowers on the mound of dirt. 

“Did he have a name?” Wrecker thinks to ask. 

“I hadn’t decided yet,” Omega admits. 

“I think Whiskers woulda been cute,” Wrecker says. 

Omega offers him a wobbly smile. “I like that.” 

“Whiskers it is then,” Echo says. 

A few weeks ago, Hunter would never have dreamed of taking care of a child. This morning he would never have dreamed of having a funeral for a rodent named Whiskers. 

But life is full of strange surprises. 

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[master-missysversion]

Still crazy to me to see people saying the moffat era was terrible like its an objective fact when it is just so so beloved to me

[heatcaged]

early dean is just soo much fun to write like why is that baby boy