#its thinking you and the doctor shared a universe all your own only to realize you were a planet orbiting a binary star system.

[quietwingsinthesky]

the only time i can vaguely get into love triangles is the idea of a doctor/companion romance thing (requited? pining? they’re just Weird about each other?) happening, and then when those two are at their most intense, that’s when the master shows up and it becomes very clear that. whatever is going on between the doctor & their companion. is not even a third of what is between the master & the doctor.

and then cue the angst because how. how. are you supposed to compete with someone they’ve known forever, who they’ve defined themself by for centuries, who knows every little detail about them and then some.

[learnandturn]

Hi, I hope you're doing well. I'm writing to you with a heavy heart and an urgent request for help. My family is in a very danger situation due to the ongoing war, and I've launched a GoFundMe campaign to save them. Could you please share my campaign post from my profile? Each share could be a lifeline for my family. 🙏 Feel free to share it in any other social media platform if you would like. Our campaign has been verified ⭐️ by operation olive branch, and is entry number 26 on their spreadsheet. Also with ⭐️ Project watermelon,line 249/(212) on their spreadsheet. From the bottom of my heart I want to thank you in advance for all of your support and kindness.

Please help Haya get her family to safety. I started this blog to be a studyblr and am mutuals with a lot of studyblrs. Think of all of the students and their families stuck in Gaza. Their universities are destroyed and their lives are in danger. Haya's family has only reached 81,114 of the 100,000 they need to get to safety. If you are able, please help them reunite with their brother in Belgium.

From Haya's campaign:

Dear Humanity,

I'm Haya from Gaza , from a family of 8 people: my parents, two sons, and four daughters (two of them suffer from allergies).

I've witnessed the evidence of the tragedy that has struck our lives in Gaza, where my family and I have survived amidst numerous previous wars. But today, we face the most dangerous and fierce battle in the current war. The urgent need intensifies for us, as we have nothing left and are unable to secure our basic needs such as food, water, and safe shelter.

Here is our story - On October 7th, our lives changed forever, my family and I evacuated from northern Gaza to southern Gaza, hoping to return soon, but it wasn't meant to be. Our home was surrounded, burned, and then completely destroyed, Our home, once a fortress of hope, now lay in ruins, a stark reminder of our shattered dreams.

The night before we left from the north to the south was terrifying. Shelling sounds were everywhere, making a loud noise that felt like it went through our souls. Every explosions shook the ground like earthquakes, sending shockwaves of fear through our trembling bodies. filling us with fear. The air smelled of destruction and blood, making it hard to breathe. When dawn came, we saw the devastation around us, realizing our home was now a symbol of loss and despair.

We ran into the streets and with each step we took into the unknown streets, we felt as if we were plunging deeper into the abyss of our shattered existence, leaving behind everything we own in our home: Clothes, important official documents, the car, and literally it's almost everything - the enormity of our loss weighed heavily upon us.

Our home it was where we found hope, safety, and made precious memories. Losing it felt like losing years of our lives, leaving us adrift amidst the wreckage of our shattered existence.

Desperate Plea: Escaping Gaza's Allergy Nightmare

I, Haya, suffer from severe allergy to penicillin-derived medications, and my sister, Amal, also suffers from severe allergies to medications from my family such as Paracetamol and Ibuprofen.

These allergies create a deep sense of fear and anxiety for us, as we live in a constant state of tension and fear of anything that may require a visit to the hospital. We fear being given inappropriate medications due to the unavailability of suitable treatments in Gaza because of war or lack of awareness and not informing the doctor of our allergies, which could lead to serious consequences threatening our lives.

This situation breeds a storm of doubts and worries, so we appeal to you to help us leave Gaza and rid ourselves of the anxiety and fear due to allergies.

My father owns an automated food factory that produces a popular dish called "Maf'toul," named "Couscos Al-Sham." He established it in 1996 and distributed its products to all markets in the Gaza Strip, both north and south. Recently, he was seeking to export his product outside the Gaza Strip. However, when the war came, his factory was completely destroyed, ceased operation, and my father's income became zero.

Our dreams are heading towards oblivion in the labyrinth of an uncertain future

My story, along with my siblings, represents a united team of four individuals, three of whom are skilled programmers and one graphic designer. We work as freelancers in the world of freelancing.

Since the beginning of the war on October 7, 2023, our lives have come to a complete halt. There's no work, no workplace, not even electricity or communication. Our workplace was destroyed, and the entire infrastructure in our area was crippled, leading to the loss of all our projects and sources of income. Thus, my family and I have become without any means of livelihood.

As for my younger sister, she is a student studying at the College of Architecture. She has always carried a big dream in her heart, a dream of being part of changing Gaza, of making it more beautiful and better. She looked forward to the day when she would receive her degree and start building this dream. But the beginning of the war changed everything. The destruction of infrastructure and universities cast shadows of despair over her dreams.

Despite this, she continues to dream, working diligently to rebuild Gaza, to achieve her vision of a city full of life and beauty. Her story remains a story of resilience and hope, carrying within it a strong determination to succeed despite all challenges.

When I think of my brother in Belgium, I can't help but feel deep sadness. He has been suffering from unbearable anxiety and insomnia since the outbreak of the war. Sleep eludes him at night, and his physical and mental health collapses under the weight of these heavy burdens, negatively affecting his performance at work. Problems and challenges pile up in front of him without the slightest opportunity for rest.

We all feel psychological pressure and extreme anxiety. The war hasn't been limited to external attacks but has deeply infiltrated our daily lives. We search among the rubble for a little safety and the basic resources for survival. Every day comes with a new challenge that we must overcome.

As we sway amidst the rubble of shattered dreams, our souls wrestle and our hearts beat strongly challenging the ravages of war.

Our parents earnestly seek a way to rescue us from this hell, feeling the heavy responsibility for every moment we spend under the shadows of fear and destruction. They dream of a safe place where they can build for us a better future, filled with security and hope, for we deserve life in all its meanings of comfort and peace.

Perhaps this fundraising campaign represents a light in the midst of darkness, it is indeed the only hope we cling to firmly.

I appeal to the world as a whole to hear my cry and the mournful cry of my family in Gaza. We need the helping hand that reaches out to wipe our tears and build a bridge to safety.

Your donation is not just a donation; it's an opportunity to rebuild life and brighten a better tomorrow. Be part of our hopeful story, for we need your hand to start anew.

The purpose of the fundraising campaign

The goal of this fundraising campaign is to rescue my family - my parents, my siblings, and me - through the Rafah Crossing to Egypt, which currently requires $5000 per person. This campaign is our only chance to stay alive, and I humbly request your assistance at this critical time. I will provide you with a comprehensive breakdown of the expenses, committing to transparency and clarity.

Breakdown of Expenses

• Passport fees: €135 per person (a total of €945 for seven family members)

• Rafah/Egypt crossing: €5000 per person (a total of €35,000 for seven family members)

• Minimum living costs: €1,700 per month (a total of €10,200 for six months)

Thank you for your kindness and support.

.جزاكم الله خيراً

yours sincerely;

Haya Alshawish.

[boundinparchment]

Deus In Absentia - IV

The first time was a coincidence. The second time was a fluke. But the third time? You were starting to think it was fate. Or, more likely, a calculated trap. Reposted from my previous blog, @/zhonglis-empty-wallet AO3

As you imagined, there was only the illusion of choice; if a Harbinger wanted a resource, they got it, one way or another.

You were given quarters among some of the other, higher ranking Fatui members; a small room with a single window, bed, wardrobe, desk, and attached bathroom only large enough to serve its purposes.  At least you didn’t have to share.

The room was a respite you would probably use very little, you came to quickly realize.

Most of your time was spent in Dottore’s labs and the adjacent rooms down in Haerasys.  Reading, organizing, sorting.  You tried not to think too hard about the dark stains at the edges of stray pieces of paper or the screaming from the sub-basement.  

The tour you received of the facilities didn’t include the cells where specimens and subjects were kept.  In fact, you were explicitly told to not go down there.  Probably for the best, if the topics you were glimpsing over were anything to go by.  Krupp had dragged you along once, and only once, and you suddenly understood what he meant by ‘human resources’ in your first meeting.

You’d held your own throughout Krupp’s tirade, expressionless, until you arrived back in the privacy of your rooms, where your stomach protested what little dinner you’d eaten and your mind refused to let you sleep.  Human experimentation, especially on children…confused, lost, scared…it was wrong.

And you would, no doubt, join them when Dottore was finished with you.  Death would be a mercy.  And he was the furthest thing from merciful. ____________________

“Archivist!”

You winced. Over the past few weeks, you learned quickly to distinguish the differences in his tone when he used your title.  He never called you by your name.  It was better that way, you supposed.  Professional.

Or perhaps, as you occasionally heard from recruits in the hall and the hushed whispers people dropped in your ear, he was entirely incapable of connecting with others.  The other Harbingers kept their distance unless otherwise required.  Their own staff were just as wary.  After all, Dottore loved to see them squirm whenever he had the chance.

He shouted again, more frustrated than before, and you hastily made your way to his main workshop.  The Second had his back to the entrance as he scanned a large bookshelf, one you only finished organizing days prior.  Already in disarray.  Again.

“Yes, Lord Harbinger?”

Krupp referred to Dottore as master.  

You would do no such thing.  You, at least, had dignity.  Dottore might have taken everything from you so far but he couldn’t take that.

The good doctor held a book in his hand and waved it about, making it difficult to see the title.  “Where are the additional volumes for this?!  They were right here!  You’re making such a mess, Archivist.” 

Dottore’s fury initially made your blood run cold when you first experienced it but you’d pushed through it as soon as you realized you were right about the topic.  He wasn’t much different than a disgruntled customer at times, really.  Others on the receiving end of the Harbinger’s ire were quick to beg and soothe and plead.

Not you.

You approached cautiously, as you had on the first day in Haerasys, and held out a hand for the book.  Dottore frowned but begrudgingly handed it to you before crossing his arms.

“The shelves were reorganized to their initial system you used, based on Universal Decimal.  Topics regarding Divinity and the Abyss are…” you ran a finger lightly over spines as you made your way across the shelves, “here.  They’re then sorted by title, since most of these are written by unknown authors.”

You pulled out the additional volumes in question and presented them to the Harbinger.

“The shelves are labeled, Lord Harbinger.  And there’s a list of inventory attached to the end of the shelf with their intended location.”

Dottore clicked his tongue against his teeth and took the books from you in a single sweep of his arm.  He brought the titles back to the table where he was tinkering on a smaller device and was quickly lost in his work again.

Your system would be useless if he didn’t use it as intended.  The entire point was to eliminate this exact situation, so his resources would be easy to find.  Tools and instruments were labeled, returned to their locations; why wouldn’t his research materials be treated the same way?

You turned on your heel to leave and then, against your better judgment, turned back towards Dottore.

“Is the system I’ve come up with useless for you, Lord Harbinger?”

You hadn’t meant for the exasperation to be as pronounced.  The system was easy enough for customers to follow in your store, after all, or a similar version.  He seemed to navigate the shelves during his visits with ease, immediately understanding the organizational structure.  But if it didn’t work, it was better to know and resolve it than continue on under false pretenses that everything was fine.

Dottore held his place on a page with a finger and looked up, red eyes wider than usual.

“What gave you that impression, Archivist?”

“If you’re unable to find what you need–”

The Harbinger cut you off.  “Few have efficiently stuck to a system that makes sense long enough for it to be useful.  Even one as peerless as myself can adjust when something is more optimal than before.”

You held his gaze, remembering his words to you regarding displaying your organs, and nodded.  In the distance, you heard a shrill scream from the nearby staircase that led to the sub-basement.  You suppressed a shudder, remembering the wide eyes and the pleading, weakened and starved bodies...

Dottore drew your attention back to him as he said, “I expect nothing less than perfection.”

You bowed, your mouth suddenly refusing to work, and before you raised your head, Dottore continued.  

“You’ll know when I’m dissatisfied, Archivist.”  His tone was final, dismissive and threatening.  

You didn’t want to linger anyway.

[jcmarchi]

Unlocking history with geology and genetics

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/unlocking-history-with-geology-and-genetics/

Unlocking history with geology and genetics

Fatima Husain grew up in the heart of the Midwest, surrounded by agriculture. “Every time you left your home, you saw fields of corn and soybeans. And it was really quite beautiful,” she says. During elementary school, she developed her own love of gardening and cultivated a small plot in her family’s backyard.

“Having the freedom to make a mess, experiment, and see things grow was very impactful,” says Husain, a fourth-year doctoral candidate in the MIT Department of Earth, Atmospheric and Planetary Sciences (EAPS) and a Hugh Hampton Young Fellow. This experimentation in the garden was the seed that blossomed into her fascination with science. “When you think about gardening and agriculture in Iowa,” she says, “you think about soil and its origins, which led me to geology and geochemistry and all these interdisciplinary fields that play a role in the Earth sciences.”

Husain has maintained that scientific curiosity throughout her academic career. As a graduate student in EAPS’ Program in Geology, Geochemistry, and Geobiology, she studies the fossil and genetic records of ancient and modern life forms to better understand the history of life on Earth. She says, “Twenty years ago, I was a stoked kid working with topsoil in Iowa. Now, I get to work with ancient dirt and sediments to better understand Earth and life’s past.” 

Sharing science

Though Husain loved her environmental science class in high school, when she enrolled at Brown University, she wasn’t sure which STEM major to pursue. Then, a guest lecture in her first-year biology course dispelled any uncertainty. “A professor walked on stage and introduced himself as a biogeochemist, and after that, everything just clicked,” she says. Within weeks of that fateful lecture, she had declared a major in geochemistry. “I’ve never looked back,” she says.

She then immersed herself in her Earth science classes, which applied the core science disciplines she studied to topics such as the oceans, weather and climate, and water quality. “I gained a sincere appreciation for the excellent teaching and writing that helped me access the world of the geosciences,” she says, “And that helped me realize the value in communicating science clearly.”

To hone her writing skills, Husain took nonfiction writing classes as her electives and joined one of the school newspapers. There, she took on the role of science writer and editor. As she neared graduation, she knew that she would eventually pursue geochemistry at the graduate level, but first she wanted to focus on journalism and writing. She reasoned that, if she could formally learn the fundamentals of science writing and reporting, then “I could more effectively share all the science I learned after that point,” she says. With the support of her undergraduate professors, she decided to apply to MIT’s Graduate Program in Science Writing, one of the only such programs in the country.

The program refined Husain’s writing skills and paved the way for her to pursue science journalism opportunities across a variety of media, including print, video, podcasting, and radio. She worked as a writing intern for MIT News during this time, and has written a number of MIT News articles while at MIT. After graduating, she served as a Curiosity Correspondent for the MIT-Nord Anglia Education Collaboration based at the MIT Museum. In that role, she says, “I worked on communicating the amazing science happening here at MIT to K-12 students around the world via educational videos.” Since beginning her PhD studies, Husain has transitioned to a new role in the collaboration — hosting a monthly webinar series called MIT Abstracts, which connects MIT researchers and experts with an international audience of middle schoolers.

Along the way, Husain has also worked as a reporter and managing producer for a Rhode Island-based sustainability science radio show called Possibly. In 2019, she founded a podcast with her colleagues called BIOmarkers, which serves as an oral history project for the discipline of organic geochemistry.

Acquiring the “biggest tool set” possible

After completing her master’s thesis, Husain began to return to her roots in geochemistry. She says, “At some point, when I was interviewing other scientists and they described their experiments, I’d miss being in the lab myself. That feeling helped me realize the time was right to get back into research.” Husain chose to stay at MIT for her PhD. “I couldn’t resist the opportunity to continue working on challenging, interdisciplinary problems within such an exciting environment,” she says. “There really is no other place quite like it.”

She joined the lab group of Roger Summons, the Schlumberger Professor of Geobiology. For her first project as a research assistant, Husain helped then-postdoc Ainara Sistiaga reconstruct the environment of Tanzania’s Olduvai Gorge 1.7 million years into the past, using molecule-scale fossils preserved in archeological sediments. Part of Africa’s Great Rift Valley, the site preserves evidence of ancient hominin tools and activities. The research team’s findings were later published in published in PNAS.

Under the mentorship of her advisors, Gregory Fournier, an associate professor of geobiology, and Summons, Husain studies both the fossil record and the genetic records of organisms alive today to answer fundamental questions about life’s evolution on Earth. “The farther back into Earth’s history we go, the fewer complete records we have,” Husain says, “To answer the questions that arise, I hope to employ the biggest tool set I can.”

Currently, Husain investigates the biomarkers of microbes living in Antarctic biofilms, which she hopes will provide hints about the types of places where the ancestors of complex life sheltered during global glaciation events through Earth’s Cryogenian period, which stretched between 720 to 635 million years ago. To do this, Husain applies techniques from chemistry, such as chromatography and mass spectrometry, to isolate and study microbial lipids, the precursors of molecular fossils preserved in the geologic record.

Husain also uses “molecular clocks,” tools which employ the genetic sequences of living organisms to estimate when in evolutionary time different species diverged, to better understand how long ago aerobic respiration arose on Earth. Using the growing databases of publicly available gene sequences, Husain says it��s possible to track the histories of metabolisms that arose billions of years ago in Earth’s past. Much of her research can also be applied to astrobiology, the study of potential life elsewhere in the universe.

As a PhD student, Husain has also had the opportunity to serve as teaching assistant for 12.885 (Science, Politics, and Environmental Policy) for two semesters. In that role, she says, “My goal is to help students improve their writing skills so that they are equipped to successfully communicate about important issues in science and policy in the future.”

Looking ahead, Husain hopes to continue applying both her science and communication skills to challenging problems related to Earth and the environment. Along the way, she knows that she wants to share the opportunities that she had with others. “Whichever form it takes,” she says, “I hope to play a role in cultivating the same types of supportive environments which have led me here.”  

[mcbex]

*What's Special About The Universe*

I may have gone down a rabbit whole these past weeks, but hear me out. I know these types of things usually get a bad wrap.

In this case I have been devouring podcasts and books from doctors, scientist and theologians along with mediation. The resounding theme being the connection of everything. Which makes me begin to consider that maybe we are what is special about the great black beyond.

Looking for life on other planets we don't look for life size beings that may or may not come in peace. No, we search for bacteria or signs of what could have been water, at some point... maybe. We won't likely find the kind of life that will shake our hands, although I don't deny its possibilities. I concede that we look for the kind of life that does not interact consciously with its surrounds. We search for mere action and reactions, with our consciousness being the key. When we bring our query closer to the earth and all that it holds, again we find an equation that leaves us dazed with the realization that we are the universe looking at itself. Do comets do this? Does the grass? I've heard of trees sharing a root system but I'm not convinced they know themselves the way we do.

Then I think it's funny how time and experience change us like no other chemical reaction. Using our emotion and recognition of ourselves these connections can become so powerful. Curiosity becomes knowledge and this eagerness to know more becomes necessity. This need can be so profound at times that I find myself fascinated with the question of how much my happiness is dependent on others. How much I lean on the expectation of interaction of all the tiny things that must come together for the purpose of self awareness.

This love becomes focused on how much of it there is in the universe. How much need I have to share it with you. What's very cool is the deeper I go in this perception the crazier I feel about my love for Christ. I'm nuts for him. This is indeed a rabbit whole of sorts because as I open my Bible to inspect it against historical fact I see him calling us to this realization. Reaching to us to love Him for all he has done for us, to love one another as we love our selves and to be aware of who you are, and who's you are.

We are able to give and share and show and know one another in so many ways that the universe will never fathom. Although secretly I think that the stars ache to join us. Maybe it's not us looking out into the cosmos for answers, but the natural world peppered throughout existence with unreasonable distance and detail merely for our enjoyment. I mean why not.. if a creator of the everything loves us enough to make us, I'm sure he built in a little entertainment.

(Sorry for the extra verses... I had a hard time choosing)

Psalms 89:11 The heavens are yours, and yours also the earth; you founded the world and all that is in it.

1Corinthians 13;1-3 If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Ephesians5:21 Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.

2Timothy 1:9  He has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time,

Luke 10:27 He answered, “ ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

[lokiondisneyplus]

'Loki' takes over: Tom Hiddleston on his new TV series and a decade in the MCU

Ten years after Hiddleston first chose chaos in Thor, Marvel’s fan favorite God of Mischief is going even bigger with his time-bending Disney+ show.

Tom Hiddleston is Loki, and he is burdened with glorious purpose: After playing Thor's puckish brother for over a decade in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, no one understands the mercurial Asgardian God of Mischief as well as the actor. He can teach an entire seminar on Loki if given the opportunity — which he actually did during pre-production on his forthcoming Disney+ show. In conversation, Hiddleston quotes lines from his MCU debut, 2011's Thor, almost verbatim, and will playfully correct you if you mistakenly refer to Asgard's Rainbow Bridge as the Bifrost, which is the portal that connects Loki and Thor's homeworld to the Nine Realms, including Midgard, a.k.a. Earth. "Well, the Bifrost technically is the energy that runs through the bridge," he says with a smile. "But nine points to Gryffindor!" And when he shows up to the photo shoot for this very digital cover, he hops on a call with our photo editor to pitch ways the concept could be even more Loki, like incorporating the flourish the trickster does whenever magically conjuring something. The lasting impression is that playing Loki isn't just a paycheck.

"Rather than ownership, it's a sense of responsibility I feel to give my best every time and do the best I can because I feel so grateful to be a part of what Marvel Studios has created," the 40-year-old Brit tells EW over Zoom a few days after the shoot and a week out from Thor's 10th anniversary. "I just want to make sure I've honored that responsibility with the best that I can give and the most care and thought and energy."

After appearing in three Thor movies and three Avengers, Hiddleston is bringing that passion to his first solo Marvel project, Loki, the House of Ideas' third Disney+ series following the sitcom pastiche WandaVision and the topical The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Led by head writer Michael Waldron (Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, Heels), the six-episode drama sees Hiddleston's shapeshifting agent of chaos step out from behind his brother's shadow and into the spotlight for a timey-wimey, sci-fi adventure that aims to get to the bottom of who Loki really is. "I wanted to explore slightly more complex character questions," says Waldron. "It's not just good versus bad. Is anybody all good? Is anybody all bad? What makes a hero, a hero? A villain, a villain?"  

Even though Loki — who loves sowing mayhem with his illusion magic and shapeshifting, all with a major chip on his shoulder — has never been one for introspection, the idea of building an entire show around him was a no-brainer for Marvel. When asked why Loki was one of the studio's first Disney+ shows, Marvel president Kevin Feige replies matter-of-factly, "More Hiddleston, more Loki." First introduced as Thor's (Chris Hemsworth) envious brother in Kenneth Branagh's Thor, Loki went full Big Bad in 2012's The Avengers. That film cemented the impish rogue as one of the shared universe's fan favorites, thanks to Hiddleston's ability to make him deliciously villainous yet charismatic and, most importantly, empathetic. The character's popularity is one of the reasons he's managed to avoid death many times.

"He's been around for thousands of years. He had all sorts of adventures," says Feige. "Wanting to fill in the blanks and see much more of Loki's story [was] the initial desire [for the series]."

The Loki we meet on the show is not the one who fought the Avengers in 2012 and evolved into an antihero in Thor: The Dark World and Thor: Ragnarok before meeting his demise at the hands of the mad titan Thanos (Josh Brolin) in 2018's Avengers: Infinity War. Instead, we'll be following a Loki from a branched timeline (a variant, if you will) after he stole the Tesseract following his thwarted New York invasion and escaped S.H.I.E.L.D. custody during the time heist featured in Avengers: Endgame. In other words, this Loki hasn't gone through any sort of redemption arc. He's still the charming yet petulant god who firmly believes he's destined to rule and has never gotten his due.

Premiering June 9, Loki begins with the Time Variance Authority — a bureaucratic organization tasked with safeguarding the proper flow of time — arresting the Loki Variant seen in Endgame because they want his help fixing all of the timeline problems he caused while on the run with the Tesseract. So there will be time travel, and a lot more of it than in Endgame. As Loki makes his way through his own procedural, he'll match wits with new characters including Owen Wilson's Agent Mobius, a brilliant TVA analyst, and Gugu Mbatha-Raw's Judge Renslayer. The question in early episodes is whether Loki will help them or take over.

"One of the things Kevin Feige led on was, 'I think we should find a way of exploring the parts of Loki that are independent of his relationship with Thor,' or see him in a duality or in relationship with others, which I thought was very exciting," says Hiddleston, who also serves as an executive producer on the show. "So the Odinson saga, that trilogy of films, still has its integrity, and we don't have to reopen it and retell it."

Yet, in order to understand where Loki is going, it's important to see where he came from.

Hiddleston can't believe how long he and Loki have been connected. "I've been playing this character for 11 years," he says. "Which is the first time I have said that sentence, I realize, and it [blows] my mind. I don't know what percentage that is exactly of my 40 years of being alive, but it's substantial."

His time as Loki actually goes a bit further back, to 2009 — a year after Robert Downey Jr. big banged the MCU into existence with Iron Man — when he auditioned for Thor. It's no secret that Hiddleston initially went in for the role of the titular God of Thunder, but Feige and director Kenneth Branagh thought his natural charm and flexibility as an actor made him better suited for the movie's damaged antagonist. "Tom gave you an impression that he could be ready for anything, performance-wise," says Branagh, who had previously worked with him on a West End revival of Checkov's Ivanov and the BBC series Wallander. "Tom has a wild imagination, so does Loki. He's got a mischievous sense of humor and he was ready to play. It felt like he had a star personality, but he was a team player."

Hiddleston fully immersed himself in the character. Outside of studying Loki's history in the Marvel Comics, he also researched how Loki and the Trickster God archetype appeared across mythology and different cultures. "He understood that he was already in something special [and] it was a special character in a special part of that early moment in the life of the Marvel universe where [he] also needed to step up in other ways," says Branagh, who was impressed by the emotional depth Hiddleston brought to the part, especially when it came to how isolated Loki felt in the Asgardian royal family.  

There was a lot riding on that first Thor feature. For one, no one knew if audiences would immediately latch onto a Shakespearean superhero movie partially set on an alien planet populated by the Norse Gods of legend. Second, it was integral to Feige's plans for the shared universe. Loki was supposed to be the main villain in The Avengers, which would not only mirror how Earth's mightiest heroes joined forces in 1963's Avengers #1 but also give Thor a believable reason for teaming up with Iron Man, Captain America (Chris Evans), and the rest of the capes. Feige first clued Hiddleston into those larger plans when the actor was in L.A. before Thor started shooting.

"I was like, 'Excuse me?' Because he was already three, four steps ahead," says Hiddleston. "That took me a few minutes to process, because I didn't quite realize how it just suddenly had a scope. And being cast as Loki, I realized, was a very significant moment for me in my life, and was going to remain. The creative journey was going to be so exciting."

Hiddleston relished the opportunity to go full villain in Avengers, like in the scene where Loki ordered a crowd to kneel before him outside a German opera house: "It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation," says the Machiavellian god. "The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."

"I just knew that in the structure of that film, I had to lean into his role as a pure antagonist," Hiddleston recalls. "What I always found curious and complex about the way Loki is written in Avengers, is that his status as an antagonist comes from the same well of not belonging and being marginalized and isolated in the first Thor film. Loki now knows he has no place in Asgard."

Loki did find a place within the audience's hearts, though. Feige was "all in" on Hiddleston as his Loki from the beginning, but even he couldn't predict how much fans would love him. Feige recalls the reaction at the 2013 San Diego Comic-Con: "Did we know that after he was the villain in two movies, he would be bringing thousands of people to their feet in Hall H, in costume, chanting his name? No, that was above and beyond the plan that we were hoping for and dreaming of." It was a dream Feige first got an inkling of a year earlier during the Avengers press tour when a Russian fan slipped past security, snuck into Mark Ruffalo's car, and asked the Hulk actor to give Hiddleston a piece of fan art she created. "That was one of the early signs there was much more happening with this quote-unquote villain."  

Despite that popularity, the plan was to kill Loki off in 2013's Thor: The Dark World, but the studio reversed course after test audiences refused to believe he actually died fighting the Dark Elves. Alas, he couldn't out-illusion death forever. After returning in Taika Waititi's colorful and idiosyncratic Thor: Ragnarok, Hiddleston's character perished for real in the opening moments of Infinity War. In typical Loki fashion, before Thanos crushed his windpipe, he delivered a defiant speech that indicated he'd finally made peace with the anger he felt toward his family.  

"It felt very, very final, and I thought, 'Okay, that's it. This is Loki's final bow and a conclusive end to the Odinson saga,'" says Hiddleston, who shot that well-earned death scene in 2017.  

But, though he didn't know it yet, the actor's MCU story was far from over.

Credit: Charlie Gray for EW

When Hiddleston returned to film two scenes in Avengers: Endgame in 2017, he had no idea where Loki portaled off to after snatching the Tesseract. "Where'd he go? When does he go? How does he get there? These are all questions I remember asking on the day, and then not being given any answers," Hiddleston recalls. To be fair, it's likely the Powers That Be didn't necessarily have answers then. While Feige can't exactly recall when the writers' room for Endgame first devised Loki's escape sequence, he does know that setting up a future show wasn't the primary goal — because a Loki series wasn't on the horizon just yet.

"[That scene] was really more of a wrinkle so that one of the missions that the Avengers went on in Endgame could get screwed up and not go well, which is what required Cap and Tony to go further back in time to the '70s," says Feige. Soon after that, though, former Disney CEO Bob Iger approached Feige about producing content for the studio's forthcoming streaming service. "I think the notion that we had left this hanging loose end with Loki gave us the in for what a Loki series could be. So by the time [Endgame] came out, we did know where it was going."

As for Hiddleston, he didn't find out about the plans for a Loki show until spring 2018, a few weeks before Infinity War hit theaters. "I probably should not have been surprised, but I was," says the actor. "But only because Infinity War had felt so final."

Nevertheless, Hiddleston was excited about returning for his show. He was eager to explore Loki's powers, especially the shapeshifting, and what it meant that this disruptive figure still managed to find a seat beside the gods in mythology. "I love this idea [of] Loki's chaotic energy somehow being something we need. Even though, for all sorts of reasons, you don't know whether you can trust him. You don't know whether he's going to betray you. You don't why he's doing what he's doing," says Hiddleston. "If he's shapeshifting so often, does he even know who he is? And is he even interested in understanding who he is? Underneath all those masks, underneath the charm and the wit, which is kind of a defense anyway, does Loki have an authentic self? Is he introspective enough or brave enough to find out? I think all of those ideas are all in the series — ideas about identity, ideas about self-knowledge, self-acceptance, and the difficulty of it."

“The series will explore Loki's powers in a way they have not yet been explored, which is very, very exciting.”

The thing that truly sold Hiddleston on the show was Marvel's decision to include the Time Variance Authority, a move he describes as "the best idea that anybody had pertaining to the series." Feige and Loki executive producer Stephen Broussard had hoped to find a place for the TVA — an organization that debuted in 1986's Thor #372 and has appeared in She-Hulk and Fantastic Four stories — in the MCU for years, but the right opportunity never presented itself until Loki came along. "Putting Loki into his own procedural series became the eureka moment for the show," says Feige.  

The TVA's perspective on time and reality also tied into the themes that Waldron, Loki's head writer, was hoping to explore. "Loki is a character that's always reckoning with his own identity, and the TVA, by virtue of what they do, is uniquely suited to hold up a mirror to Loki and make him really confront who he is and who he was supposed to be," says Waldron. Hiddleston adds: "[That] was very exciting because in the other films, there was always something about Loki that was very controlled. He seemed to know exactly what the cards in his hand were and how he was going to play them…. And Loki versus the TVA is Loki out of control immediately, and in an environment in which he's completely behind the pace, out of his comfort zone, destabilized, and acting out."

To truly dig into who Loki is, the creative team had to learn from the man who knows him best: Hiddleston. "I got him to do a thing called Loki School when we first started," says director Kate Herron. "I asked him to basically talk through his 10 years of the MCU — from costumes to stunts, to emotionally how he felt in each movie. It was fantastic."

Hiddleston got something out of the Loki school, too. Owen Wilson both attended the class and interviewed Hiddleston afterward so that he could better understand Loki, as his character Mobius is supposed to be an expert on him. During their conversation, Wilson pointedly asked Hiddleston what he loved about playing the character.

"And I said, 'I think it's because he has so much range,'" says Hiddleston. "I remember saying this to him: 'On the 88 keys on the piano, he can play the twinkly light keys at the top. He can keep it witty and light, and he's the God of Mischief, but he can also go down to the other side and play the heavy keys. And he can play some really profound chords down there, which are about grief and betrayal and loss and heartbreak and jealousy and pride.'" Hiddleston recalls Wilson being moved by the description: "He said, 'I think I might say that in the show.' And it was such a brilliant insight for me into how open Owen is as an artist and a performer.'"

Owen Wilson as Mobius and Tom Hiddleston as Loki in 'Loki.'| Credit: Chuck Zlotnick/Marvel Studios

Everyone involved is particularly excited for audiences to see Hiddleston and Wilson's on-screen chemistry. "Mobius is not unlike Owen Wilson in that he's sort of nonplussed by the MCU," says Feige. "[Loki] is used to getting a reaction out of people, whether it's his brother or his father, or the other Avengers. He likes to be very flamboyant and theatrical. Mobius doesn't give him the reaction he's looking for. That leads to a very unique relationship that Loki's not used to."

As for the rest of the series, we know that Loki will be jumping around time and reality, but the creative team isn't keen on revealing when and where. "Every episode, we tried to take inspiration from different things," says Waldron, citing Blade Runner's noir aesthetic as one example.

"Part of the fun of the multiverse and playing with time is seeing other versions of characters, and other versions of the titular character in particular," says Feige, who also declined to confirm if Loki ties into Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness and/or other upcoming projects.

Making Loki was especially meaningful to Hiddleston because they shot most of it during the pandemic, in late 2020. "It will remain one of the absolute most intense, most rewarding experiences of my life," he says. "It's a series about time, and the value of time, and what time is worth, and I suppose what the experience of being alive is worth. And I don't quite know yet, and maybe I don't have perspective on it, if all the thinking and the reflecting that we did during the lockdown ended up in the series. But in some way, it must have because everything we make is a snapshot of where we were in our lives at that time."

While it remains to be seen what the future holds for Loki beyond this initial season, Hiddleston isn't preparing to put the character to bed yet. "I'm open to everything," he says. "I have said goodbye to the character. I've said hello to the character. I said goodbye to the character [again]. I've learned not to make assumptions, I suppose. I'm just grateful that I'm still here, and there are still new roads to explore."

[robininthelabyrinth]

🧿🤠🐇🍲🍯: Lan Wangji does not think it’s safe to raise A-Yuan in Cloud Recesses after the Lans participated in the killing of his zhiji and the entire Burial Mounds community (or more accurately that it’s not safe while he himself is in seclusion and can’t watch over A-Yuan, at least) so he delivers A-Yuan to the one person who he knows did not stand against Wei Wuxian (and got away with it, bc this person has never stood against anything, since standing takes effort): Nie Huaisang.

Little Side Door - ao3

Nie Huaisang’s rooms in the Unclean Realm had a little side door that no one but him ever used.

They hadn’t originally. The Unclean Realm was a fortress, designed to maximize protection and defense; there was no better place for keeping things safe by locking them away. While it had its fair share of boltholes and escape routes, they were not common and universally difficult to access lest the enemy learn of them and use them to their advantage. Even the layout of their open spaces were carefully planned lest the attack come from the sky, a concern that only cultivators had, and not about how they themselves could escape – after all, weren’t they all Nie, ready to die rather than endure dishonor?

The little side door that led to Nie Huaisang’s room opened onto a small rock garden, left to grow wild with weeds rather than reveal its presence to more people. It existed only because his brother had ordered it constructed by those he trusted most, all in secret in the dark of the night. He had never explained why he had gone to such lengths to create such an unwelcome and inauspicious place, but then, he hadn’t needed to – Nie Huaisang had been there, too, when his father had descended into madness and they had been trapped in the familial quarters with no way out that did not take them through him. If his brother had been the one to brave his father’s rage directly, Nie Huaisang had been the one stuck in a small space that was only not claustrophobic because it was so painfully familiar.

Now, though his father was long dead and gone, Nie Huaisang had a little side door.

A little side door, and a little garden that almost no one knew about; in combination with the saber that his brother forced him to learn and the golden core he had so begrudgingly formed, he now had a way to reach the sky and the illusive freedom it represented – the freedom to flee and leave his home behind.

If it ever happens again – his brother had said once, the closest he had ever come to speaking of it.

He did not finish his sentence, as Nie Huaisang had thrown his plate into his face and stormed off, steaming mad and close to tears. He did not raise the subject a second time.

Nie Huaisang did not often use his little side door.

Although he enjoyed gardens, he preferred the aviary he’d constructed, or one of the myriad of well-tended gardens in the main part of the sect; even the vegetable gardens out back beside the kitchens were far more welcoming than that sparse straggle of land. He’d only ever spent time there when he was a child and in desperate need of some quiet, wanting to avoid adults with their arguments and their miseries; he’d taken some friends there because he thought it might impress them, but it hadn’t, and anyway his brother had put a stop to that soon enough.

He didn’t even think about the little side door, most days. It was just a part of the room, a small tucked away corner with nothing in it. Nothing to think about.

And then, of course, years after he’d put it out of his mind entirely, there came a terrible banging noise at that little side door, like someone was kicking at it furiously from the outside.

Nie Huaisang nearly fell over sideways in his scramble to get up, and then once again when he realized where the noise was coming from – almost no one knew about his side door and its little garden, and so no one had ever come to him through it. Who would be knocking now…?

He opened it.

Lan Wangji, white robes stained with blood and cheeks bright with fever, shoved something into his arms. “You have a child now,” he said through bitten lips. “Congratulations. He is called A-Yuan. I entrust you with his care, for my sect cannot be trusted with it.”

And then he turned and staggered away, mounting up on Bichen and flying off before Nie Huaisang could say anything – before he could even finish searching his memories and recalling that yes, in fact, Lan Wangji had been one of the friends he had shown the side door to, years and years before, and thus knew how to find it. Before he could even start processing the thousands of thoughts that had spring to life, fully formed, at all the information he’d just received: the bloody robes, the desperation, the reference to the Lan sect – the Lan sect! – being somehow untrustworthy…

He looked down at his arms.

“Congratulations,” he echoed blankly. “I have a child now.”

The child blinked up at him, and then smiled.

-

“Da-ge!” Nie Husiang howled, rushing into the sect leader’s study where his brother was doing work – luckily it wasn’t receiving hours and he wasn’t in the main hall, as that would have been unfortunate. “Da-ge, you have to help me! I have a child now!”

His brother stared at him, expression blank and mouth slightly agape. The brush in his hand dripping ink onto a now-wasted piece of paper.

“Huaisang,” he said after a moment. “What the fuck.”

Nie Huaisang nodded furiously.

“Where did you get – how – who – what did you do?!”

“I am currently unable to disclose any details,” Nie Huaisang said promptly even as his brother tossed aside the brush and got up, striding over with a storm brewing in his face. “All I can say is that I have to raise this child now. By which I mean, you have to help me raise this child now; I can’t raise children! I’m not mature enough to raise a child!”

“No kidding! Why would someone entrust – to you…” Nie Mingjue trailed off, looking down at the child with a frown that shifted from disbelieving irritation to concern. He pressed his hand to the child’s forehead. “Huaisang, this child has a high fever. We need to get him to the medical wing at once – is that blood?”

“Not his, I don’t think?”

“I don’t want to know,” his brother decided. “Move.”

Some time later, they were both sitting next to the bed in one of the spare rooms in the family quarters; Nie Huaisang thought it might even have been the same one that he’d used when he was very young. A-Yuan was sleeping, and Nie Mingjue was still holding his little hand in his own, having been clocked as the oversize comfort animal that he not-so-secretly was from the very first moment A-Yuan laid eyes on him.

The doctors had declared A-Yuan’s fever to be very severe, but they had applied plenty of medicine – the Lan sect might have more esoteric healing techniques, but there wasn’t anything like the Nie sect when it came to standard medicine for injuries and illnesses associated with the battlefield, and despite A-Yuan’s tender age Nie Huaisang would be willing to bet that his injuries were from a battlefield. They were confident that A-Yuan would make a full recovery, body and mind both intact, although they warned that his memory of the past might be impacted.

Nie Huaisang had thought about all that blood that wasn’t his, of Lan Wangji pale-faced and wild-eyed, and decided that a little bit of forgetting might not be so bad after all.

“Are you going to tell me anything more,” his brother said after a while. “Or should I just give up now?”

Nie Huaisang leaned over and patted his knee. “It’s good that you know your limitations.”

His brother rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” he remarked.

“What part?” Nie Huaisang asked, curious. “The fact that we have a kid now, because obviously we’re keeping him? Or the fact that someone gave a kid to me?”

“Both,” his brother decided. “Definitely both.”

-

“His name’s A-Yuan,” Nie Huaisang said. “Apparently.”

“Well,” his brother said. “Obviously that won’t do.”

-

Nie Huaisang had the ability to be sneaky when he wanted to be. It wasn’t a matter of stealth, he had explained to his brother, but sneakiness– a completely different concept. Stealth suggested that he was doing something to conceal himself and required skills and talent, or else a lot of practice, and obviously Nie Huaisang was not going to go in for either of those.

Sneakiness, though…

He didn’t need people not to be able to see him in order to be sneaky. He just needed them not to care about him, or wonder where he was.

“Psst,” he said, knocking on the window to the rooms where Lan Wangji was purportedly practicing seclusion. “Psst! Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji had given him a child. They were definitely past the ‘Lan-er-gongzi’ stage.

“Lan Zhan!” he rapped at the window with his fan. “We need a courtesy name!”

There was some sounds from within the jingshi, mostly stumbling around. Nie Huaisang waited patiently, and after a few moments the window opened and Lan Wangji stared out at him. He was as pale as a ghost with lips as red as blood, and very clearly not in seclusion at all, but rather in the midst of healing whatever wounds had left him bloody – he probably shouldn’t have gotten out of bed to answer.

Oh, well. Too late for regret now.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lan Wangji said, voice dull and eyes blank as he stared at Nie Huaisang. It was unclear if he meant in the Cloud Recesses generally, or here in particular, interrupting his ‘seclusion’.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Nie Huaisang said, scowling at him. “We need a courtesy name! A courtesy name for the child, you hear me? You know, of course, that Qinghe Nie don’t use personal names, not even for children – certainlynot for children older than their first year. It’d be a complete giveaway that he’s not organically ours if we call him something like A-Yuan.”

Lan Wangji raised a hand to pinch his nose. “Please go away.”

“Courtesy name, Lan Zhan. I mean, I may be the one who’ll be raising him, but please think carefully: do you really want meto be the one naming him?”

“…call him Sizhui.”

“Sizhui,” Nie Huaisang repeated. “With the characters…?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“Uh, no,” Nie Huaisang said. “I need a bettercourtesy name. Are you joking?”

“Nie Huaisang. Go away.”

“But –”

Lan Wangji slammed the window shut.

“…fine,” Nie Huaisang said to the closed window. “Be that way, see if I care. Not like we don’t need to build up a decent coparenting relationship or anything eventually.”

He thought he heard a choking sound from behind the door and smirked.

“Don’t you think you can baby-trap me and just walk away, Lan Zhan,” he said in his best ominous tone. “If you wanted someone to raise your kid without ever consulting you again, you should’ve dropped him off in the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, who’d probably be too busy being confused to even question where he came frome – but no. You came to me. I don’t make decisions in the best of times, least of all good. I have questions. A lot of questions.”

He thought about it for a moment.

“Not about how you got him or anything like that,” he said. “I’m not stupid, I can tell a secret when I see one. But, you know, other types of questions. Parenting stuff. Are you a ‘go sit and think about what you’ve done’ sort of parent? Or more traditional discipline, with copying lines and occasionally strikes when they’re naughty? Do you want him to learn the Lan sect rules along with the Nie sect principles –”

There was a muffled sound from inside the house.

It sounded angry.

“…we can talk about it later,” Nie Huaisang decided. He might’ve pushed his luck a bit too much. “Talk later!”

-

“You have a…what?” Lan Xichen asked, his smile a little fixed and stare a little wilder than normal.

“A nephew!” Nie Mingjue gushed. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

“Nephew.”

“He’s so well behaved, too! He plays quietly by himself most of the time, drawing and even writing a little, and Huaisang’s already teaching him how to play the dizi –”

“When you say nephew, do you mean Nie Huaisang’s child?”

“Do I have other brothers?” Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at him. “He’s obviously not yours. Anyway, I know Meng Yao is expecting one, too, but he wouldn’t be dressed in Nie colors if it was his, would it?”

“Yes, but…are you telling me that…that Nie Huaisang…”

“It’s a battlefield child, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said patiently. “Obviously. Someone entrusted him to Huaisang.”

“Oh,” Lan Xichen said, looking relieved. “Yes, that makes more sense…wait.”

Nie Mingjue waited.

“Someone entrusted him to Nie Huaisang?”

“I know, right?” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Xichen didn’t notice how strained his grin had suddenly become, or how thoughtful his eyes were as he surveyed Lan Xichen as if trying to find an answer to a question. “I would’ve assumed they’d go for someone more responsible, like you. Guess you never know…”

“I guess you don’t,” Lan Xichen agreed, looking down at the child with a bemused expression. A battlefield child, entrusted to Nie Huaisang… “They must have been truly driven to desperation.”

“Perhaps,” Nie Mingjue said, and then changed the subject to little Nie Sizhui’s accomplishments, of which he could list many at great length and very great enthusiasm. By the time he was done with that, Ln Xichen was so overwhelmed that he didn’t ask a single other question.

-

“So I’ve got an idea on how to do this whole co-parenting thing,” Nie Huaisang said, cracking nuts to eat. He was sitting next to Lan Wangji’s bedside, and dropping the shells straight on the floor, too, staring dead-eyed at Lan Wangji as if daring him to say something – which he wouldn’t, of course. “Since with Sizhui starting classes soon it’s become much more urgent, on account of me needing you to attend meetings with his teachers and discuss his progress.”

Lan Wangji looked deeply long-suffering. He’d only invited Nie Huaisang inside because Nie Huaisang had threatened to start shouting out his business loudly on account of oh but Lan Zhan, how was I to know if you could hear me in there, I just had to raise my voice just in case because I wouldn’t want you to miss any of the extremelyimportant news –

It was all Lan Wangji’s fault for being born earlier than Nie Huaisang, Nie Huaisang thought virtuously. It was merely Nie Huaisang’s lot in life to fulfill the role of annoying younger brother to everyone.

“See, it’s the music,” Nie Huaisang continued. “You do music, right?”

Lan Wangji’s ice-cold glare suggested that he did, in fact, ‘do music’.

“So your brother has been playing this song for da-ge on a regular basis,” Nie Huaisang explained, ignoring the glare entirely. “And when he’s not available, which is most of the time nowadays, he’s been sending san-ge instead. Even though, of course, poor san-ge’s so busy back at Lanling all the time…ughh, it’s so unfair, you know! Poor san-ge has to do all the work of being the heir and gets none of the benefits, and they pile even more work on him on top of that – really, he gets no respect.”

Lan Wangji’s expression suggested he didn’t care.

“And think about the inconvenience to us!” Nie Huaisang sallied forth, undeterred. “People coming and going all the time, da-ge having to interrupt his schedule of spending quality time with me and Sizhui – and sect leader work, of course, though that’s less important – in order to march over to greet them and host them and listen to them…what a pain it is!”

Lan Wangji appeared on the verge of suggesting that Nie Huaisang consider getting to the point.

“So you should come do it instead.”

Lan Wangji’s expression cracked, suggesting that Nie Huaisang had actually managed to make an impact.

“You remember,” he said, voice low and a little hoarse from all that refusing to speak he’d been doing. Really, if Nie Huaisang wasn’t around to goad him into it, he might’ve lost the voice entirely – he didn’t even have little Sizhui around to force him to speak! “That I’m in seclusion. Right?”

“You’re horribly lonely is what you are,” Nie Huisang said briskly. “You require company. Therefore, coming to take up a semi-permanent posting in the Unclean Realm to play the Song of Clarity for my brother morning, noon, and night is clearly the finest way to solve all of our problems, and for you to see little Sizhui as often as you like.”

Lan Wangji visibly wavered. “My brother,” he said, then coughed. “My brother will never believe it.”

“That’s your problem,” Nie Huaisang said. “Find a way to sell it.”

He stood, shaking the remaining shells onto the chair.

“See you in Qinghe soon, Lan Zhan..!”

Lan Wangji was trying to kill him with his mind, Nie Huaisang thought happily as he wandered off with a whistle and a vaguely silly expression. Good – he’d been inside for too long. He needed the stimulation.

-

“Truly,” Nie Mingjue remarked, strolling around their gardens without any apparent notice of the small child perched on his shoulders, giggling wildly at the feeling of being tall, “I feel far better than I did before! One can scarcely compare it – night and day, really. Your Lan sect’s Song of Clarity is a marvel, even if it does take a while before it kicks in.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said, walking slowly with his hands behind his back. He was still unsteady on his feet on account of the absolutely horrific injuries he’d incurred – but if the Lan sect’s response to everything was seclusion, seclusion, seclusion, then the Nie sect’s equivalent response was exercise. These little excursions through the gardens were the result.

Thus far, they were still only doing laps around the main gardens, but Nie Huaisang had plans to eventually force Lan Wangji to go even as far as his own little side garden. He’d made it through his side door once, after all; why not a second time..?

At any rate, Nie Huaisang still wasn’t quite sure how Lan Wangji had talked Lan Xichen into allowing him to come to the Unclean Realm, but it really did make the whole co-parenting business a lot more convenient. And his brother had had so much fun making Lan Wangji stiff and awkward over all his thanks and praise for his decision to come ‘help out’ with Nie Sizhui’s raising until finally, at last, Nie Huaisang had taken pity and revealed that Nie Mingjue knew perfectly well whose battlefield child this was.

Both in terms of who had gifted him to Nie Huaisang, and who’d adopted him originally, and of course even his original surname – The little tot’s been through enough adoptions to make anyone’s head spin, his brother had said, his voice gruff as always. There’s no point in thinking back too far, is there?

Lan Wangji had been very relieved.

“Run, bobo!” Nie Sizhui cried, pointing over at a bird. “We need to get it for Sang-gege!”

Nie Mingjue snorted like a bull but obediently quickened his feet and left the rest of them behind, heading in full charge straight at the wild pheasant that was far more likely to end up on Nie Huaisang’s plate than in his aviary. It was about even odds which one Nie Sizhui meant, anyway.

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Wangji said, his voice low, and Nie Huaisang looked at him. “The Song of Clarity does not take time to work. These effects should have happened at once.”

Nie Huaisang opened his fan, hiding his face as he frowned. “How odd,” he said. “And after san-ge put in all that hard work.”

“Perhaps he played it wrong.”

“Odd,” Nie Huaisang said again. “When san-ge gets so very little wrong…has your brother sent any word on the Xue Yang issue?”

“…he has not.”

“He’s going to need to pick a side eventually.”

“He does not want to make things difficult for his sworn brother.”

“Does he have only the one?” Nie Huaisang asked archly, and Lan Wangji averted his gaze. “It’s awkward for us if he doesn’t back us, and is a bad look besides…truly, it’s a wonder that san-ge managed to squeeze out the time to come here.”

Lan Wangji’s frown deepened. “Indeed,” he said. “One would think his father might be tempted to stop him.”

“Wouldn’t you just?” Nie Huaisang said. “Wouldn’t you just…you know, maybe when you’re feeling better, we should go visit Lanling ourselves.”

Lan Wangji glanced at him, arching an eyebrow, and Nie Huaisang smiled, fanning himself casually.

“I’m not the only one with a little side door,” he said. “Let’s go knocking and see what we find, shall we?”

[shkspr]

hi. on your post where you may or may not have ended on 'moffat is either your angel or your devil' did you have maybe an elaboration on that somewhere that i could possibly hear about. i'm very much a capaldi era stan and i've never tried to defend the matt smith era even though it had delightful moments sometimes so i wonder where that puts me. i'd love to hear your perspective on moffat as a person with your political perspective. -nicole

hi ok sorry i took so long to respond to this but i dont think you know how LOADED this question is for me but i am so happy to elaborate on that for you. first a few grains of salt to flavor your understanding of the whole situation: a. im unfairly biased against moffat bc im a davies stan and a tennant stan; b. i still very much enjoy and appreciate moffat era who for many reasons; and c. i hate moffat on a personal level far more than i could ever hate his work.

the thing is that its all always gonna be a bit mixed up bc i have to say a bunch of seemingly contradictory things in a row. for instance, a few moffat episodes are some of my absolute favorites of the rtd era, AND the show went way downhill when moffat took over, AND the really good episodes he wrote during the rtd era contained the seeds of his destruction.

like i made that post about the empty child/the doctor dances and it holds true for blink and thats about it bc the girl in the fireplace and silence in the library/forest of the dead are good but not nearly on the same level, and despite the fact that i like them at least nominally, they are also great examples of everything i hate about moffat and how he approached dw as a whole.

basically. doctor who is about people. there are many things about moffats tenure as showrunner that i think are a step up from rtd era who! actual gay people, for one! but i think that can likely be attributed mostly to an evolving Society as opposed to something inherent to him and his work, seeing as rtd is literally gay, and the existence of queer characters in moffats work doesnt mean the existence of good queer characters (ill give him bill but thats it!)

i have a few Primary Grievances with moffat and how he ran dw. all of them are things that got better with capaldi, but didnt go away. they are as follows:

moffat projects his own god complex onto the doctor

rtd era who had a doctor with a god complex. you cant ever be the doctor and not have a god complex. the problem with moffats era specifically is that the god complex was constant and unrepentant and was seen as a fundamental personality trait of the doctor rather than a demon he has to fight. he has the Momence where you feel bad for him, the Momence where he shows his humility or whatever and youre reminded that he doesnt want to be the lonely god, but those are just. moments. in a story where the doctor thinks hes the main character. rtd era doctor was aware that he wasnt the main character. he had to be an authority sometimes and he had to be the loner and he had to be sad about it, but he ultimately understood that he was expendable in a narrative sense.

this is how you get lines like “were the thin fat gay married anglican marines, why would we need names as well?” from the same show that gave you the gut punch moment at the end of midnight when they realize that nobody asked the hostess for her name. and on the one hand, thats a small sticking point, but on the other hand, its just one small example of the simple disregard that moffat has for humanity.

incidentally, this is a huge part of why sherlock sucked so bad: moffats main characters are special bc theyre so much bigger and better than all the normal people, and thats his downfall as a showrunner. he thinks that his audience wants fucking sheldon cooper when what they want is people.

like, ok. think of how many fantastic rtd era eps are based in the scenario “what if the doctor wasnt there? what if he was just out of commission for a bit?” and how those eps are the heart of the show!! bc theyre about people being people!! the thing is that all of the rtd era companions would have died for the doctor but he understood and the story understood that it wasnt about him.

this is like. nine sending rose home to save her life and sacrifice his own vs clara literally metaphysically entwining her existence w the doctor. ten also sending rose with her family to save her life vs river being raised from infancy to be obsessed w the doctor and then falling in love w him. martha leaving bc she values herself enough to make that decision vs amy being treated like a piece of meat.

and this is simultaneously a great callback to when i said that moffats episodes during the rtd era sometimes had the same problems as his show running (bc girl in the fireplace reeks of this), and a great segue into the next grievance.

moffat hates women

he hates women so fucking much. g-d, does steven moffat ever hate women. holy shit, he hates women. especially normal human women who prioritize their normal human lives on an equal or higher level than the doctor. moffat hated rose bc she wasnt special by his standards. the empty child/the doctor dances is the nicest he ever treated her, and she really didnt do much in those eps beyond a fuck ton of flirting.

girl in the fireplace is another shining example of this. youve got rose (who once again has another man to keep her busy, bc moffat doesnt think shes good enough for the doctor) sidelined for no reason only to be saved by the doctor at the last second or whatever. and then youve got reinette, who is pretty and powerful and special!

its just. moffat thinks that the doctor is as shallow and selfish as he is. thats why he thinks the doctor would stay in one place with reinette and not with rose. bc moffat is shallow and sees himself in the doctor and doesnt think he should have to settle for someone boring and normal.

not to mention rose met the doctor as an adult and chose to stay with him whereas reinette is. hm. introduced to the doctor as a child and grows up obsessed with him.

does that sound familiar? it should! bc it is also true of amy and river. and all of them are treated as viable romantic pairings. bc the only women who deserve the doctor are the ones whose entire existence revolves around him. which includes clara as well.

genuinely i think that at least on some level, not even necessarily consciously, that bill was a lesbian in part bc capaldi was too old to appeal to mainstream shippers. like twelve/clara is still a thing but not as universally appealing as eleven/clara but i am just spitballing. but i think they weighed the pros and cons of appealing to the woke crowd over the het shippers and found that gay companion was more profitable. anyway the point is to segue into the next point, which is that moffat hates permanent consequences.

moffat hates permanent consequences

steven moffat does not know how to kill a character. honestly it feels like hes doing it on purpose after a certain point, like he knows he has this habit and hes trying to riff on it to meme his own shit, but it doesnt work. it isnt funny and it isnt harmless, its bad writing.

the end of the doctor dances is so poignant and so meaningful and so fucking good bc its just this once! everybody lives, just this once! and then he does p much the same thing in forest of the dead - this one i could forgive, bc i do think that preserving those peoples consciousnesses did something for the doctor as a character, it wasnt completely meaningless. but everything after that kinda was.

rory died so many times its like. get a hobby lol. amy died at least once iirc but it was all a dream or something. clara died and was erased from the doctors memory. river was in prison and also died. bill? died. all of them sugarcoated or undone or ignored by the narrative to the point of having effectively no impact on the story. the point of a major character death is that its supposed to have a point. and you could argue that a piece of art could be making a point with a pointless death, ie. to put perspective on it and remind you that bad shit just happens, but with moffat the underlying message is always “i can do whatever i want, nothing is permanent or has lasting impact ever.”

basically, with moffat, tragedy exists to be undone. and this was a really brilliant, really wonderful thing in the doctor dances specifically bc it was the doctor clearly having seen his fair share of tragedy that couldnt be helped, now looking on his One Win with pride and delight bc he doesnt get wins like this! and then moffat proceeded to give him the same win over and over and over and over. nobody is ever dead. nobody is ever unable to be saved. and if they are, really truly dead and/or gone, then thats okay bc moffat has decided that [insert mitigating factor here]*

*the mitigating factor is usually some sort of computerized database of souls.

i can hear the moffat stans falling over themselves to remind me that amy and rory definitely died, and they did - after a long and happy life together, they died of old age. i dont consider that a character death any more than any other character choosing to permanently leave the tardis.

and its not just character deaths either, its like, everything. the destruction of gallifrey? never mind lol! character development? scrapped! the same episode four times? lets give it a fifth try and hope nobody notices. bc he doesnt know how to not make the doctor either an omnipotent savior or a self-pitying failure.

it is in nature of doctor who, i believe, for the doctor to win most of the time. like, it wouldnt be a very good show if he didnt win most of the time. but it also wouldnt be a very good show if he won all of the time. my point is that moffats doctor wins too often, and when he doesnt win, it feels empty and hollow rather than genuinely humbling, and you know hes not gonna grow from it pretty much at all.

so like. again, i like all of doctor who i enjoy all of it very much. i just think that steven moffat is a bad show runner and a decent writer at times. and it is frustrating. and im not here to convince or convert anyone im just living my truth. thank you for listening.

[perriewinklenerdie]

Job interview (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,5 k

Summary: Landry Olsen goes to speak to the Head of the Diagnostic Team in hopes of working in Ethan Ramsey's team.

Warnings: None

A/N: Just Landry being Landry. And my two idiots being in love - this time with actual words being said. Also, Ethan being protective and proud - you know, like a husband.

Landry Olsen walked the halls of Bloom Edenbrook with his head held high. After two years of being gone, he felt a familiar feeling of pride at the sight of rooms and staff, no matter how many changes have taken place.

The news of a job opening in the Diagnostic Team flooded the medical community, reaching the doctors of Solomon Kenmore. In particular, Landry Olsen. It was like his dream came true once more, like he got a second chance at this.

Since his residency ended, he knew for sure that Claire’s residency was over too. For an opening in the team to happen now? It couldn’t have been a coincidence – she must have packed her bags and left, leaving a space for him to fill. Leaving him a chance to finally work by Ethan Ramsey’s side and prove to him that he was a better doctor between him and his former friend.

That’s what brought him to Edenbrook. He didn’t think to check, so blinded with his pride that he strutted to the nurse’s station, asked where the new DT office was and, as soon as he got the confirmation that the head of the team was in, walked towards the place that would grant him a new start for his career.

He straightened his shirt, shaking in anticipation to see his medical hero, sitting behind the desk, waiting for him to give him his resume – waiting for Landry to join the team, like he should have done two years ago.

A screeching sound of an alarm blared in his ears when he stepped through the door and casted his gaze onto the figure sitting behind the desk. They were hunched over a chart, drumming the pencil against the smooth surface under their palm. Their coat was draped over the back of the chair they were sitting on, completely in their element – like they owned the place.

At the sound of the steps, they spoke up. “Ethan, babe, you’re early, you said you’d be here in ten minutes- “ Claire lifted her gaze from the lines of patient information and moved it towards the person standing two meters from her. “Oh.”

They stared at each other in silence, neither sure what to do. Landry’s brain didn’t register the term of endearment she used in regards to Ethan Ramsey, too shocked by seeing her in the room to notice the additional information.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” He managed to spit out, shaking himself off mentally. She raised an eyebrow.

“Who did you expect to see? You knew I was in the team, Landry.”

“I heard about an opening in the team, and since our residencies are over, I figured that… you’d leave.” He explained, shrugging as though his line of thought was the sanest thing in the world. Claire nodded slowly, sending him a strange look.

“I see. And, well, as you can see, that’s not the case. As a matter of fact-“

“That’s the last time I let you choose our lunch option, Claire. The traffic could not have been worse.” Ethan’s voice interrupted her as he walked into the room. At the sight of a faintly familiar face, he stopped in his tracks. Only for a moment, though, because he resumed his stride pretty much immediately, joining Claire behind her desk, their food in hand. He put the boxes down, then kissed her forehead warmly.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Besides, why couldn’t you just order? They would have delivered it, no problem.” She grinned, leaning back in her seat.

“No problem, huh? I’ll remind you of how much it’s not a problem the next time you want those cookies that they do not deliver.” He nodded towards the smaller bag on the side. She gasped, touching her chest theatrically.

“Oh my god, I love you.”

“As I love you.” Ethan replied without missing a beat, his eyes softening as he smiled at his girlfriend.

At that moment, Landry Olsen cleared his throat. The couple looked at him at once, as though they only now remembered that they had company – neither embarrassed by the situation, though.

“Right.” Claire cleared her throat, turning in her seat to face him again. “As I was saying, I didn’t leave.”

“If you didn’t leave, then who did?” Landry asked, confused beyond measure. The next words wrecked his world and he felt ground slipping from under his perfect little vision of his future.

“I did.” Ethan spoke up, leaning against the desk. He nudged Claire’s arm with his knee, winking at her, both smiling.

“So… who’s the team leader now?” He stuttered, not for the first time in the past ten minutes, unable to understand what was happening.

“I am.” Claire raised her chin confidently, her posture straightening. “So, if you still want to discuss the opening in the team with its leader, that would be me.”

Olsen looked between the couple, the reality of their relationship suddenly catching up to him. The kiss, the love confession, their closeness – all like a slap to the face, all confirming what he already knew years ago.

“I… you two- but I- “

“I don’t think he’s a good fit, if I’m being honest.” Ethan shared his opinion, turning towards her. “You’re the boss here, so the decision is yours, but he doesn’t look like he’d be able to get much done. Well.” He gave the younger doctor a dirty look, well aware of what he’s done in the past. “Maybe except for sabotaging his coworkers.”

Landry paled. He wanted to run but his body froze, and he couldn’t move a finger. Memories of the conversation he had with Claire when she realized what he’s been doing came back to him immediately. He still stood by his point – a resident leading a team? In what universe would that be happening? He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out.

Ethan smirked at the sight, shaking his head at the younger man. He turned towards Claire and dropped his voice to a mutter. “I’ll wait for you in my office.” With a kiss to her cheek, he gathered their food and moved towards the door.

“You gave her the team because you’re sleeping with her?” Landry finally spit out, his voice pitchy and cracked. Ethan stopped immediately, turning around to reveal the stone-cold look on his face.

“I invite you to say it again and make an even bigger idiot out of yourself.” If looks could kill, Landry Olsen would be a pile of ash from how fiery Ethan Ramsey’s gaze was. “Go on, say that again.” When no other words were said, he scoffed. “That’s what I thought. You have nothing going for yourself, so you resort to bringing others down to hide your own incompetence. Truly touching. Now do us both a favor and go back to the place you came from so I can enjoy my lunch break with my girlfriend in peace.”

He glanced at Claire, his expression melting into a tender smile. “Come to my office once you’re done here.” She nodded, a barely visible gesture. He turned around, leaving the room without sparing Landry another look.

She stared at her former friend for a long minute, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she sighed, deciding to take the high road. “Would you like some water?”

Landry shook his head, taking a step back. He apologized after what felt like forever, then bid her goodbye and began to leave the office. He ran into Tobias and Harper, dropping his gaze to the ground when he passed them by to avoid embarrassing himself any further. The last thing he heard before he got too far away was Tobias’s taunting voice.

“Aw, man, Ramsey said it would get good. We always miss the fun, Harps.” He nudged Harper with his elbow, both of them laughing. Claire joined in, standing up and reaching for her sweater.

“We come here to spend out lunch break with the boss and the boss is leaving?” Harper teased her playfully, knowing damn well where Claire was going. The blonde shrugged innocently.

“Sorry, guys, my boyfriend just destroyed the guy that sabotaged me two years ago. He earned some kisses at the very least.” She walked backwards, grinning. “Not to mention that he has my food. See you in a bit!”

Harper giggled at their dynamic, her shoulders shaking as Tobias reached for a piece of paper, formed the ball and then threw it at Claire. “Lock the door when you get there!”

Notes

Claire: “Would you like some water?”

Perrie: “For your newly obtained burns?”

I’ve wanted to write some Landry-being-roasted fic again for a while now, and this just jumped at me today. A splitsecond decision was made and here we are.

Long story short, I have absolutely no time to write, but I write anyway. I’m probably gonna die because of this, so it’s been fun guys <3

Jk, but not really. I’m probably going to be gone for a while because of my finals. I’ll be back as soon as possible, and in the meantime, I’m going to be here, reading and praising our Queens for giving us the content we need after OH ended.

Thank you so much for being here with me for the entirety of the OH journey, having you here means more than I can express.

See you on the other side of the war. Literally.

Love you guys so much, thank you for reading <3

Tagging separately

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! Would you happen to have any fic recs that involve John meeting the Holmes family? I always think that's such an interesting dynamic to see! Also, I think this goes without saying but I love your blog and appreciate your contributions to the fandom! Thanks!

Hey Nonny!

Ah, thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my blog!

Oooo! Yes, I love that dynamic too!! ANNNNND!!! You’re giving me the chance to make a part 2 for a REALLY OLD LIST!!! So YAY!!! I found a bunch on a text doc I haven’t posted yet, so HERE WE GO! Hope you enjoy, and as always, everyone please add your own!

PARENTS AND FAMILIES Pt. 2

See also: 

Parents & Family

Meeting the Family With a Fake Relationship

Do You Love Me? by whitchry9 (K, 641 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Family, Epic Bromance) – John asks Sherlock perhaps the most important question.

Once Upon A Time by ProfessorSquirrell (T, 908 w., 1 Ch. || Family, Snippets of Life, Romance, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Implied Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending) – There is a room in Sherlock's mind palace where nothing gets deleted. And it looks like this...

Crisis Averted by Spartangal22 (T, 2,188 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fic, Missing Scene After Confronting Mary, Canon Compliant, Sherlock Whump / Mary Shot Sherlock, Family / Friendship, Hospitalization, Sherlock POV, Holmes Brothers) – Lying in the hospital, Sherlock receives some surprising visitors, and manages to deal with two problems he's been having lately. A missing scene from HLV about a formal introduction that was never made and a visit that was never shown.

The Only Available Transportation by blueink3 (T, 5,379 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Sherlock, Caring John, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Birthday, Family, Misunderstandings) – It’s possibly the desperation that’s seeped into his voice despite his best intentions, or perhaps it’s just a mother’s intuition, but she knows that whatever he’s calling about is Serious, hangover be damned. “What’s happened?” she asks, tone soft and as comforting as a hot cup of tea on a cold winter’s night. “Mummy,” he begins, voice catching. “I think John may be moving out.”

On the Steadfast Approach of an Oncoming Darkness by 2bee (T, 7,772 w., 1 Ch. || Apocalypse, Minor Character Death, Sort of Parentlock) – The world is ending. Not fast, but slowly, like falling asleep with a fever.

The Name Game by ItsClydeBitches221B (K, 8,958 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Family, Platonics / Friendship, Sort-of Parentlock, John/Mary, Mary is Nice, Five and Ones, Baby Watson, Mycroft Loves Baby Watson) – The names that baby girl Watson comes up with for her extended family. Or: how everyone—Watsons, Holmes, and others alike— just learned to give up and embrace their weirdness.

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Dropping the Act by jadztone (T, 27,258 w., 10 Ch. || Parentlock, Fake Relationship, Mary’s Family, Post-S4, Cuddling & Snuggling, Bed Sharing, Pining, Christmas) – Sherlock and John are quite happy living together with Rosie in Baker St. They might be even happier if they didn’t act towards each other like their love is only platonic. Mycroft brings troubling news in the form of Mary’s parents wanting to know just what their grandchild’s home life is like. The boys decide to spend Christmas pretending like they are in love in order to seem more like a "normal" family. It's easy enough to pretend when all you're doing is dropping the act.

An Acquired Taste by kinklock (E, 31,059 w., 4 Ch. || Vampires AU || Vampire Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Bat!Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Humour, Magical Realism, Fluff and Angst, Blood Drinking, Holmes Family, Slow Burn) – At Montague Street when Sherlock was forced to sate his body’s needs, he was at least able to wander about the flat as much as he pleased. At Baker Street, it was mini-bags in a mini-fridge and bedroom confinement.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?" "Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

Where The Ghosts Have Voices by HappyJuicyfruit (M, 37,691 w., 12 Ch. || Supernatural AU || Ghosts, Magical Realism, Light Horror, Fluff and Smut, John Can See Ghosts, John Whump, Emotional Manipulation, Dark Magic, Coma, Injury Recovery, Blow Jobs, Anal, Happy Ending, John’s Past, Mr Holmes, Powerful John, Holmes Brothers, Sherlock’s Past, Past Viclock, Drug Abuse, Hair Pulling) – John has lived his whole life as an outcast. It is only when he meets Sherlock, that be realizes being a freak might not be such a bad thing, and that the curse he has lived with his whole life may be a gift after all. (TO READ)

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) –  A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton  (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[buckyownsmylife]

hold up - andy barber fluff

The one where Andy gets you pregnant but you’re young and haven’t been dating for long.

Warnings:  Age gap (Divorced!Andy w/ College!Reader, so she’s legal), pregnancy, light angst, supportive!Andy, mentions of abortion, fluff, mentions of smutty thoughts so I don’t think I advise minors to read this, AU! where Jacob is alive and in college and Laurie and Andy are divorced, minor medical scare from Andy’s confusion, miscommunication that leads to slightly asshole!Andy but it’s quick A/N: Special thanks to @navybrat817​ and @angrythingstarlight​ for helping me choose this collage. This fic was requested a while back. I ended up focusing more on the fact that the reader was younger than Andy (which wasn’t even part of the request) than on the fact that they hadn’t been dating for long, mostly because in my mind, this was happening in the same universe as this fic. Hope you guys like it and respect the reader’s decision to keep the baby the same way you should respect it if she decided to abort it or give it up for adoption. 

Andy’s P.O.V.

Another day, another case, another headache. Working in law gets more tiring every day, and yet I persisted. Even through a divorce and its subsequent complications, I persisted. Sometimes, I forgot why.

I missed the days I remembered why I got into law in the first place. Those idyllic mornings, when I still thought I could change the world. Now all I wanted to do was to get home and eat my girlfriend’s pussy until she passed out from pleasure.

Just the thought of her sweet cunt had me licking my lips as I drove back to my place, wishing I could stop by hers instead. It still weirded me out that I was now in a relationship with someone that was my son’s age, someone who was still in college, but then I remembered all the moments we shared and was overcome with the realization that I simply didn’t want to let her go.

I knew it was selfish of me, but I believed I deserved at least this good thing in my life after my separation. As long as she wanted me, I wouldn’t let her go. And I was pretty sure that if she decided to leave me, I’d still fight for her to stay.

I loved her. I loved her enough to get through the hazard that was coming clean about our relationship to Jacob. I loved her enough to dream about a future together, even if it looked too far away for now. 

Still, I’d caught myself daydreaming about coming home to her more and more these days. It seemed that the more exhausted I was, the more I wanted her to be waiting for me when I crossed the apartment’s door, and I found myself thinking about buying a ring too many times for someone who had gone through such a lousy divorce and was dating a girl who still had college exams to worry about.

I knew our future together - if there even was one - was still too far, but I couldn’t help but want it now. Like, right now. So the fact that I wouldn’t be able to see her for another week or so while she prepared for finals was the closest thing to hell I could go through right now.

Which only made the sight of her by my apartment’s door that much sweeter. “Baby girl, what are you doing here?” Not even giving her the chance to explain, I pulled her into a needy kiss, desperate to taste her again.

I didn’t even notice that, in my eagerness to have her in my arms once more, I had dropped my briefcase and coat on the floor, opting to pay attention to the girl I held in the middle of the hallway.

I only saw the tracks of tears in her beautiful face when I released her, too. Immediately, my heart started to pound against my chest. Could something bad have happened to her? Was she hurt?

Cradling her face in my hands, I automatically started to wipe away her tears. “What’s going on, sweetheart? Why are you crying?” For whatever reason, my words only served to cause her crying to become more frantic, her sobs breaking out of her chest freely now.

My heart felt heavy at the sight of her that desperate. The urgent need to do something, to help her, but not knowing what could be done made my throat feel like it was closing. So I did the first thing I could come up with - I picked her up, not caring about my personal belongings at all as I managed to open the door and take her to the couch with me. 

“Shh… It’s alright, baby girl. I’m right here with you. Just tell me what happened, I’m sure I can help you somehow.” Again, it seemed like it was the wrong thing to say. My words took her to the verge of a panic attack if her breathing pattern was anything to go by, so I bit my tongue and focused on what I knew I could do at that very moment to help her, even if it was very little. I pulled her even closer to me, so her head was resting on my chest, and softly cradled her while rubbing her arm with one hand, while the other played with her hair. “I love you,” I repeated, over and over again. “You’re okay.”

It took some time, much longer than I hoped for, but at last her sobs started to come in bigger intervals, her breathing becoming deeper again. Slowly, she started to calm down and focus on me, and I waited until she was ready to speak, terrified of making her start crying again by pushing her to share what had caused such a terror.

“I went to the doctor today,” she started, and if at first my mind drew a blank because I had in no way anticipated this to be the start of her explanation, my heart quickly started to pound against my chest when I managed to process what she had said. 

Was she sick? I knew she had been feeling a bit under the weather recently, even throwing up some mornings, but I thought it was a bug that had been going around. She was in college, after all, and those environments were filled with bacteria, just waiting to spread any sort of illness they could provoke.

Was it something serious? For her to be that way, it had to have been. My hands started to sweat at the prospect of losing her. Automatically, I held her tighter, in desperate need to hear more but terrified of what was coming our way.

But she didn’t seem able to say it, whatever it was. Her eyes that had finally connected to mine since she started crying, suddenly fell down to her own hands, and her sniffles warned me that she had started to cry again.

“Y/N…” I begged, covering her hands with mine. “Princess, please, please talk to me. I’m going crazy here, sweetheart. I feel like I might pass out any second now.” Surprisingly, that granted me a giggle, and then, through sniffles and tears, she finally looked up at me again.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I didn’t know how to drop this bomb on Andy. How do you tell your much older boyfriend, who already has a child who’s your exact age, that you’re pregnant with his kid? I was terrified. Terrified that he wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore, that he would try to force me to get an abortion.

Terrified that I would have to do this alone.

But I had to tell him. Of course, I had. So taking one last deep breath, I squeezed the hand that was holding mine before confessing, in the bluntest possible way, since it was the only one I could come up with right now, “I’m pregnant.”

I don’t know what I was expecting. I hadn’t actually had the time to figure out how to tell him the news - hence my blurting in the simplest possible way - but that also meant I hadn’t really imagined any outcome for this. I had a lot of fears, of course, but no actual expectation. Still, Andy’s reaction managed to catch me by surprise.

At first, there was nothing at all. He just sat there, his huge hands still covering mine as he stared at me with a blank expression in his face. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could even hear it, amidst the silence in the room. Then, out of nowhere, he pounced on me, effectively knocking me back on the couch when he captured my lips with his. 

I couldn’t catch my breath as he enthusiastically devoured me, his hands cradling my face and caging me in as he forced me to make out with him on his sofa, like two teenagers after school. Andy was such a great kisser that it was hard for me not to melt against the soft cushions, instinctively opening my legs further so he could fit perfectly between them.

The way his strong body made me feel when it was covering mine was precisely what had got us in this mess, in the first place.

“Andy…” I tried to speak and push him away, but he was still kissing me desperately, opting for quick pecks around my face since I didn’t let him deepen his kiss again. “Andy!” I admonished when he continued to ignore me, choosing to suck tiny little bruises from my jaw down to my neck, instead. 

“Baby, I’m terrified over here. Can you please stop trying to distract me and tell me what you’re thinking?” That caught his attention. He finally reduced his kisses, slowly going back to his seating position on the couch and bringing me with him, laying me over his lap again.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just… I’m so fucking relieved. First, I thought you’d break up with me. Then, since you talked about going to the doctor’s, I thought something was wrong with you. I was desperate, baby girl. Desperate. I figured, one way or another, I was going to lose you. And I don’t want to lose you.”

Hearing what was going on through his mind while I struggled to figure out how to explain what was happening made my heart feel heavy with guilt. I guess that, in the state I was in I kind of thought he would have realized what I was going to say, or simply not anticipate any sort of information whatsoever, so to hear that his mind jumped to these worst-case scenarios was heartbreaking to me.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” I assured him, reaching out for his hand and squeezing it in a small show of support. “I’m right here. But we need to figure out how we’re going to do this.” Andy blinked a few times before managing to voice his confusion.

“Do this what?” And then it was my turn to be confused.

“This… kid. What are we gonna do about this?” I watched as his nostrils flared, his grip on me momentaneously hardening, before he managed to get his emotions in check through a long exhale.

“You’re not seriously considering aborting my child, right?” The question - the tone - was like a slap to the face. In all honesty, that option had never even crossed my mind, but the way he was saying it, like I had no say in the matter, killed me inside.

“I’m gonna give you the time to figure out what the hell is wrong with you. I know that this is a pretty overwhelming situation and I just sprung this on you, but that is no excuse to address me in such a manner. Especially if you consider just how much I’m the one who’s really going to have my entire life turned upside down because of this.”

Andy’s P.O.V.

I groaned as I watched her leave the room in the direction of the bathroom, knowing this was her way of letting me know I shouldn’t look for her until I was prepared to apologize. But I was already ready. I knew how terrible my words had sounded, but it came from a place of love and happiness with the situation other than possessiveness. 

So, with that in mind, I rubbed my face before getting up and following her, just in time to find her reentering my bedroom. “I’m sorry, princess. I-I just didn’t know how to react when the thought of you getting an abortion popped into my mind. It’s not like you’re a fucking one night stand or a fling to me, but you’re absolutely right. It’s your body and you should do what makes you comfortable. I just ask you to keep in mind that I would love to have this child with you. I’d support you - I’d support the both of you unconditionally. I know we’ve only been dating for a few months, but I’m serious about you. I’m serious about us. I’d marry you tomorrow if it’s what you need to know how serious I really am about this. And yeah, it’s gonna be hard, but I’m here for you. I’m always gonna be here for you, every step of the way.”

By the time I was done with my speech, she had tears in her eyes again, only this time, I knew what it was about, so I only chuckled. “Come here, sweetheart.” I pulled her to me, hugging her close to my body as I caressed the back of her head. “We’re gonna be okay, one way or another.”

“You sure you’re not just gonna abandon me with a small child?” I knew that her question came from a place of insecurity, but I still couldn’t control myself as a growl escaped my chest, my hands tightening around her, as I reminded her, “You’re mine, baby girl. I’m never gonna leave you. Don’t even think that.”

Slowly, she stopped crying, until only a few sniffles were heard every once in a while. “Okay,” she mumbled in a small voice, clearing the bedroom from what was once a silent atmosphere.

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s do this. Let’s… Let’s have a baby together.”

A huge smile slowly took over my face as I cradled hers in mine to make sure there was no trace of hesitation in her eyes. “We’re gonna be parents?”

“We’re gonna be parents,” she confirmed, accepting my hug again. “Well, you’re already a parent.” The reminder had me chuckling to myself.

“I can’t wait to tell Jacob about this. He’s going to flip.” The mischievous tone in my voice earned me a playful slap on the shoulder. 

“No teasing him more than necessary, Andrew. He’s already going to be pretty affected by this.”

“Can’t make any promises.”

[awindylife-writes]

Voyage of the Damned Part 3

Relationships: the Doctor x reader, Astrid x reader (platonic), Astrid x Doctor (platonic)

Summary: Voyage of the Damned rewrite. The Doctor and you find yourselves on the Titanic, space edition. You meet Astrid and get ready for a wonderful day, but then a meteor shower hits the ship and it starts falling towards Earth.

Author's notes: There was a number of things l didn't like about this Christmas special so again, l rewrote it.

Warnings: a ship crashes, multiple mentions of dearth bc a lot of people die, Astrid dies

"It's for the Doctor!" Astrid yelled at Midshipman Frame over the comms. She needed to teleport NOW. "Y/n and him are down on deck thirty-one, alone, against all the Host and Gods know what else and they're doing it for us!" Silence on the other end. "It's time we did something for them," she ended her speech with a finallity.

A moment passed and she feared she'd failed.

But then, "Giving you power," came through the comms.

~

"Only one person could have the power and the money to hide themselves on board like that. And l should know, 'cause..." the Doctor trailed off. You stared at the strange compartment you had found on deck thirty-one.

"My name is Max," a voice finished for him. A strange machine with a head in it came through the smoke.

"Who the hell are you?" it demaned.

"I'm y/n, and this is the Doctor," you pointed at your friend with false cheerfulness, "Hello!" you wiggled your fingers in greeting.

~

"You wreck the ship and the board find their shares halved in value." The Doctor was spelling out Capricorn's plan.

"But that's not enough," you interjected. From what you've learned about them, mad billionares who were losing all their money didn't do things half-way.

"Oh yes,"  the Doctor went on. "'Cause if a Max Capricorn ship hits the Earth, it destroys an entire planet. Outrage back home!" he growled. "Scandal! The buisness is wiped out!"

The billionare's head nodded. "And? The whole board is thrown in jail, for mass murder!" His eyes shone with revenge.

"While you sit here, safe in the- what's it called?" you turned to the Doctor.

"Impact camber," he filled in.

"I have men," Capricorn gloated now, "waiting to retreave me from the ruins. And enough off-world accounts to retire me to the beaches of Enhaxico Two where the ladies, so l'm told, are very fond of... metal."

You were going to puke.

"So that's the plan," the Doctor growled in rage. "A retirement plan. Two thousand people on this ship, six billion underneath us, all of them slaughtered and why? Because Max Capricorn is a loser."

"I never lose," the billionare's head scowled in threat and your voice immediately rang out, mocking, "You can't even sink the Titanic!"

"Oh but l can, pretty girl!" he laughed. "I can cancel the engines, from here!" Red lights and alarms were suddenly flaring everywhere before you could spit in his face.

The Doctor yelled behind you, "You can't do this!"

"Host, hold them!" Caprocorn ordered in turn and began the Gloat 2.0. "Not so clever now, are you? Shame we couldn't work together, you two are rather good. All that banter and yet not a word wasted." The head sighed. "Time for me to... retire."

Ugh, you thought as you furiously tried to get free. That pun alone would be enough to kill a buisness.

"The Titanic is falling, the sky will burn, let the Christmas inferno commence!" Capricorn yelled in victory and called his minions. "Kill them!"

The robots brought up their halos and went for the Doctor's neck.

"NO!" You fought with everything you had but you were late, you'd be too late!

"MISTER CAPRICORN!" a voice you knew cut through your fear.

And it ignited terror. It was Astrid, sitting in a forklift. "I resign," she told the head and drove forward, ful throttle.

"NO!" the Doctor and you screamed, "ASTRID STOP!" "ASTRID DON'T!"

She didn't listen and rammed into the life support system, but its engine was too strong. They were equal and couldn't move each other.

You bit, kicked and screamed, anything to get free.

But then she caught your eyes with hers and everything stopped. There was an eternity in her face. She looked at the Doctor too but you still stared at her.

Then she turned away and stepped on it. The life support lifted and she drove on.

There was no sound. The world was mute as you watched Astrid go over.

You were suddenly at the edge, looking at her disappear into the fire. Someone was screaming. Someone was screaming and you wanted to calm them, help them.

Then you realized it was your own voice.

The world came back into focus. The ship was falling apart and the Doctor was silent at your side. He was staring at the spot where Astrid had disappeared. His face was pale and his eyes blank. You laid your tears aside and took his hand.

"We need to go," you told him, your voice wet with tears. He didn't move.

"Doctor, we need to go,"  you told him again calmly. You thought that was why he looked at you suddenly, and then stood up.

He rewired a Host with lightning speed. It took you each under one arm and off you went.

When you broke through the ceiling of the bridge, you were still in one piece. Arms you had used to shield your head were a bit bloody and you were sure there were at least two splinters in them. You don't look the gift horse in the mouth, even though you would prefer a different Christmas miracle.

"What's your first name?" the Doctor asked the injured Midshipman Frame.

He answered in confusion, "Alonzo."

"You're kidding," the Doctor breathed as a shocked smile spread on his face. You didn't know. You just didn't know anymore. You were drowing in the emptiness inside you but his name was Alonzo.

"Allons-y, Alonzo!" the Doctor yelled and you held on tight. You didn't scream. You didn't even open your mouth. There was nothing anymore.

The Doctor whoohooed when he managed to right the course of the ship and you were just there. Were you there? Astrid wasn't. And that was what mattered in the end.

~

"TELEPORT!" the Doctor yelled and it didn't matter. "Y/N, SHE WAS WEARING A TELEPORT BRACELET!!!"

That woke you up. You ran faster than ever before, to the main deck where the teleport was.

"Brixton, sonic," the Doctor demanded from the billionare and caught it as it was thrown. "Mister Copper, the teleports, have they got an emergency setting??"

"I don't know, they should have?"

"She fell, Mister Copper, she fell!" the Doctor told him while pulling apart the machine like a madman. "What's the emergency code?"

The billionare interjected, "What the hell are you doing?"

"We can bring her back!" you yelled with everything in you.

The historian explained, "If a passenger has an accident on shore leave, their molecules are automatically suspended so they're in stasis, so if you just trigger the shift..."

"THERE!!!" the Doctor screamed and flicked the switch.

And there was your Astrid.

"Falling..." You could hear her voice!

"Only halfway there, come on!" The Doctor wasn't finished with the teleporter.

"I keep falling!" She was scared. Your friend was scared and you wanted nothing but to calm her. You carefully walked up to her and took hold of her hand. It felt like holding warm smoke.

There were tears on your cheeks already, again.

"If l can find the molecule grid, boost the restoration matrix and-" The computer snapped and threw sparks. "NO-NO-NO-NO-NO!!" the Doctor screamed in desparation, "need more phase containment-"

You sobbed, but you knew what was coming. You just looked at your Astrid Pith, into her crystal blue eyes and sushed her. "Hey, hey Astrid, it's alright. It's me, it's y/n, remember? You're alright. l've got you," you promised with a voice as soft as sunlight.

She didn't look as scared as before. Then, so slowly you thought you were imagining it, she looked at you.

"Let her go," you could hear the historian and you sobbed again.

But then Astrid's voice cut through. "Stop me falling?" she asked and you nodded. You found her gaze with yours and promised her, "Anything."

"She's just atoms," you heard Mister Copper from behind you. "An echo with a ghost of consciousness."

"She's stardust," you concluded as your voice broke. "You hear that Astrid?" you asked, still looking into her blue eyes."You're stardust."

She didn't seem to hear, so you did the only thing you could think of.

"There's an old tradition," you told her and softly kissed her cheek. Then you kissed the other, and then her forehead.

"You dreamt of traveling," the Doctor came to stand beside you. You were still sobbing when you pulled away from her and you didn't try to stop. There was no one there you needed to save face for.

"Now you can travel forever," you told her. You knew what the Doctor would do, and your eyes didn't leave hers for a moment.

You heard him soothe her, "You're not falling Astrid."

"You're flying," you both said in one voice.

You watched as she floated away, through the window into the universe.

Then you turned to the Doctor and buried your face in his chest as you both cried.

~

"I transferred all my shares to Max Capricorn's rivals. It's made me rich," the billionare Brixton admitted, disbelieving.

You were empty, and you were tired. That was the only reason why you didn't tear this man limb from limb. Astrid was dead.

"Mister Copper," the Doctor's voice woke you up. "I think, you deserve one of these."

You turned around and saw him holding a teleport bracelet out to the historian. Then, after the latter took it, he slipped one on your wrist. He took your hand and suddenly you were standing in the snow.

~

"But l can have a house, and a garden and-" You couldn't help but smile a little. At least Mister Copper would be alright.

The Doctor yelled after him, "Where are you going?"

"I have no idea!" the man replied in joy.

"Well, we don't either," your alien smiled gently at you and you tried to smile back, you really did. He looked at you, his brown eyes full of sorrow, and pulled you to him. You held onto him tightly as he hugged you.

"But! Y/N!" the historian yelled and you turned in his direction.

"I won't forget her," he promised you. You were tired, so so tired, so you just nodded. "Thank you," you told Mister Copper for her. "We won't either."

"We won't," the Doctor assured you softly, just to be sure.

Then he opened the TARDIS door and stepped into your home after you. You walked up the way and then stood in front of the controls, lost.

The Doctor walked up behind you and decided he would do anything, anything to keep away the blank look in your eyes. He turned to you and pulled you to him again. You let him, your movements sluggish and dazed.

"I've got you," he assured you. "I've got you, y/n. You aren't alone, and you aren't lost. You've got me." And that was enough. You sobbed into his chest, you didn't know for which time today.

But this was different. This was yours, and you clung to the Doctor as everything in you came to the surface.

His tears joined yours. He'd lost Astrid too, and he hated seeing you in pain. He slowly brought both of you down to kneel when you were too tired to stand.

And that was it. That was what you needed and that was what you had. You would be alright. In time, you would be alright.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Singing in the Shower (Ragnarssons x Reader)

This is just a silly little one-shot that came to mind that I could not stop thinking about. It got a bit deeper than I planned but oops?

Also my first time writing a Ragnarssons x reader! Please let me know if I did all the brothers justice. Except Bjorn isn’t in here. So its just the sons of Aslaug. Sorry, Bjorn.  

Warnings: some brief mentions of abusive/unhealthy past relationships, reader has some insecurities, the brothers being the best roomies ever but also creepers, like one or two swear words, FLUFFY GOODNESS!!! 

Words: 3700

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​

 (picture is from Pinterest. Not mine.)

The sound of laughter echoed around you even before leaving your bedroom. It was a Sunday night so that meant the Lothbrok brothers were all over. A tradition Ubbe started some months ago to make sure the four brothers stayed connected in each other's lives. Every Sunday evening, all of them would congregate in the three bedroom flat you shared with Ubbe and Hvitserk. They would order a stack of pizzas and enough beer to put a pub crawl to shame, and watch movies or play video games until the early morning hours. Only twice had fist fights broken out between Sigurd and Ivar with just a table and a lamp damaged in the process, so Ubbe called it a win. 

 It had only been about a year that you lived with Ubbe and Hvitserk. Sigurd chose to move in with a couple members of the band he played in. Aslaug vehemently refused to let Ivar move out due to his many medical needs that she claimed he could only receive proper attention for at home. In equal parts rebellion and to escape his mother’s suffocating attention, Ivar spent the majority of his free time and nights crashing on the couch at your shared flat. 

 At first, you were hesitant about living with the two brothers, having only known them through friends, but you decided to give it a chance. Within a couple of months, you found the strange dynamics of your shared space and your vastly different relationships with each of the brothers to feel eerily familiar….like being home. 

 Standing at your door, you listened to the brothers for a few moments, smiling broadly as you heard Hvitserk taunting Sigurd about how he was going to beat his ass if he threw another blue shell at him. Meanwhile Ivar was yelling something about the undeniable magic of Yoshi and his winning streak. They must be playing Mario Kart again. 

 It was nice to hear them all getting along. Normally Sunday nights you hung out with your boyfriend to give the brothers privacy, even though all of them repeatedly told you it was unnecessary. That was until last week. You had taken a selfie on your boyfriend's phone and went to set it as his background to surprise him….and found nude pictures of other girls and the dick pics he sent them back. Before you stormed out of his flat, you may have thrown his phone against the wall, pleased when the screen shattered just like your trust. Then you came home and cried to Hvitserk about how you were swearing off men and just wanted to be a spinster for the rest of your life. 

 Word must have spread between the brothers. For the rest of the week, they all offered their support in various ways. Sigurd texted you a few times to check on you and remind you that clearly you were better off without your ex. Ubbe gave you long hugs as if trying to soak the pain out of you, and made sure you were eating and getting out of bed. Hvitserk surprised you with a new sugary treat every day ranging from Oreos to ice cream to chocolate muffins; then you two would cuddle on the couch indulging yourselves while watching movies. Ivar threatened to beat up your now ex-boyfriend for making you cry and take pictures to send to those girls your ex had been texting. You made sure to shut Ivar's idea down quickly but pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and thanked him for offering. You hated your ex, that did not mean you wanted him dead. 

 You pushed away from your door and down the hallway. Popping your head around the corner, you saw the brothers in various positions in the living room, eyes all glued to the TV and the race happening on-screen. 

 "I'm gonna shower." You announced, receiving grunts of affirmations as they were too focused to fully acknowledge you. Smiling at their antics, you headed into the bathroom, shutting the door and starting the shower up. Once the water was at the perfect temperature, you stripped and jumped in. Of course, once the mixture of hot water and steam helped you relax, you started singing to yourself, letting the worries of the day fade away for just a moment as the words flowed from your lips and echoed off the shower stall walls like your own little stage. 

 Unbeknownst to you, as soon as the bathroom door shut and the sound of water running could be heard, the volume on the TV was muted. 

 Ivar, surprisingly, was the first one to overhear your singing. He had come over to crash for a few hours after his latest doctor appointment and to work on an assignment for a University class. The bathroom door somehow had not fully latched when you closed it, cracking open while you were in the shower….and you started singing. Ivar sat stunned on the couch at the voice slipping out of the bathroom like a siren's song. He remained there, transfixed as you sang some song he had never heard but he could feel in his chest. Once you stopped singing and the shower turned off, he quickly jumped up and hobbled over to silently shut the door, slightly embarrassed by the idea of you catching him listening in to your shower singing. 

 Later that day after you headed out to work, Ivar asked Ubbe and Hvitserk if they had heard you sing yet. Both of them denied ever hearing you sing. When asked if he knew anything, Sigurd was upset, having asked you on multiple nights to go to a karaoke bar with him and some friends. You always refused by saying you sounded Iike a beached whale. 

 Ubbe was next to overhear. He was walking by the bathroom on the way to the kitchen when he heard your voice drifting from underneath the bathroom door. Feeling like a creeper but curiosity winning out, he pressed his ear to the bathroom door to listen better. To say he had been shocked was an understatement. Sure, he had heard Ivar praise your voice, but he figured his youngest brother was exaggerating. It made him wonder why you never sang in front of others. 

 A silent pact was made between the brothers that they would never share the information of your singing with anyone outside the four of them….and whenever you jumped in the shower, whoever was the closest would go and crack the bathroom door open so they could hear you better. 

 This time was no different. 

 Sigurd was closest, so after Ubbe paused the game, he jumped up and silently cracked open the door so your beautiful voice could flow out. The game picked back up but remained on mute so they could hear you. The first song you serenaded them with was Walk Me Home by Pink. Apparently, one of your new favorites since you sang it so often. Next was Someone Like You by Adele. By the third song, the brothers had abandoned the game and were solely focused on you and the raw emotion bleeding from your voice. This time you started to sing Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi.  

 Ubbe spoke up, keeping his voice quiet just in case you could hear them, however unlikely. "Has she said anything about her ex lately?"

 "Not to me." Hvitserk answered first. "I thought she was doing fine."

 "Just because she's not crying all the time doesn't mean she's fine." Ivar retorted harshly, never removing his eyes from the direction of the bathroom. After a moment, he got up and hobbled towards the bathroom. 

 "Ivar…. Ivar, what are you doing?" Ubbe hissed but was ignored. 

 As quiet as possible, Ivar walked into the bathroom and sat on the toilet lid; your singing managed to cover the sounds of his movement. As he rolled his head to the side, it was to find his brothers had followed him with varying expressions ranging from concern to amusement. 

 Normally you did not spend so long in the shower but today you decided to spoil yourself. You had been doing well all week but this morning you were scrolling through your Instagram and happened to stumble upon a picture of your ex with a new girl, smiling happily and kissing at a restaurant…. the day after you broke up. And seeing them together felt like it ripped a tear into the slowly healing pieces of your heart. 

 Instead of going out like you planned to do, you laid in bed all-day binge-watching movies and feeling like an idiot. So in the shower you took extra time pampering yourself, using a deep conditioner in your hair, shaving everywhere and just letting the hot water cascade down your skin and loosen the tense muscles. 

 At this point you were feeling a little better and decided it was best not to waste any more water. You turned the water off, running your hands down your body to get as much excess water off, before you reached for your towel. Grabbing the plush towel hanging on the rack, you quickly dried your hair and wrapped the towel around your body before pulling the curtain back….

 Only to shriek as you realized you were not alone in the bathroom. 

 "What? What are you guys doing?" You demanded, eyes frantically darting between the four brothers.

 Ivar sat on the toilet lid; head tilted as he watched you with a peculiar expression on his face. Hvitserk leaned against the sink, eyes darting from your towel-clad body to the floor then back up. Ubbe and Sigurd stood in the doorway, both looking the least comfortable but still not moving. 

 "We, ah, we were…. well, we are concerned for you." Ubbe said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

 "Concerned?" You asked incredulously. 

 Ivar ignored your question. "Is this about your ex? Want me to pay him a visit?"

 "What are you talking about?"

 "Your singing. They were sad songs." Sigurd answered, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. 

 Heat flooded your face. You dropped your head, staring at the bathroom floor as you clutched the towel closer to your body. Honestly, the idea of them hearing your singing was far more humiliating than them seeing you naked at this point. "You…. you heard me…. singing?"

 "Y/n, are you OK? You know you can tell us anything." Hvitserk said, trying to meet your eye. 

 "Um, can…. can we talk about this when…. when I'm not naked?" 

 "Of course. Come on, brothers." Ubbe quickly agreed, tapping the door as if to signal. He and Sigurd walked away first. Only when you finally met Hvitserk's eye did he push off the sink and head out but not before giving you a flirty wink. 

 "Ivar…."

 He slouched back, folding his hands behind his head. "I'm quite comfortable here."

 "Oh gods, please, Ivar." You begged, almost on the verge of tears. 

 He stared at you a long moment before pushing himself to his feet. "Don't think you're getting out of this."

 "Ok."

 Appeased, he made his way out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

 Once alone, you stepped out of the shower only to drop onto the toilet lid and place your head in your hands. Your chest heaved and your eyes stung as you fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Today was bad enough and now this. It had to be something out of a nightmare. Your own personal hell. 

 When you finally composed yourself, you quickly changed into your comfiest sweats and tank top. You wished you could make a run for your room, anything to avoid the impending conversation but you knew the brothers would follow, they were all stubborn and persistent when they wanted to be. 

 With a deep breath, you stepped out of the bathroom and towards the living room. What hushed disagreement the brothers were clearly having abruptly ended when they noticed you. Awkwardly you remained standing, unsure where to sit. The only open spots were on the couch between Hvitserk and Ivar or one of the recliners as Ubbe sat in the other one. Sigurd reclined on the rocker gaming chair on the floor. 

 Averting your eyes, you started towards the open recliner only to have a strong arm snake around your waist as you passed by and pulled you onto the couch. You squeaked as you suddenly found yourself perched on Ivar's lap. Somewhere you had certainly never been before. 

 "Where do you think you're going?" He asked, a cocky grin spread across his face. 

 "Um, over there." You nodded your head towards the other open spot. 

 "No, you're sitting here now."

 "Stop hogging her, brother." Hvitserk reached over and dragged you off Ivar. Somehow you ended up with your back against Hvitserk's side, his arm slung around you and your legs across Ivar's lap, him slowly running his hand up and down them. 

 Ubbe raised an eyebrow at the three of you. "Are you done yet?"

 "I thought we were just fine but I guess Hvitty had other plans." Ivar snarked, rolling his eyes. 

 "We're good now." Hvitserk said with a cheesy smile, making you giggle. 

 "So how are you really doing, y/n?" Ubbe asked, staring at you with those knowing blue eyes. 

 "Um, I'm alright. Today was just…. rough." At the four questioning looks, you quickly explained about what you found this morning on Instagram. 

 Ivar slapped the armrest of the couch. "I'm beating his ass now and nothing you say can stop me."

 You snagged his other hand that was still on your leg and clasped it, as if that alone could diminish his deadly intent. "Please don't. He's not worth it. I just…. I just want to move on. Ok?"

 He grumbled, but eventually gripped your hand and gave it a single squeeze in acknowledgement. 

 Now here was the part that petrified you; but you needed to know. 

 "Um, how…. how long have…. was this your first time?" Your words stumbled out, making you cringe at how ineloquent it was. 

 "What are you talking about?" Sigurd drawled; one foot propped up so he slowly rocked in the gaming chair.  

 You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. You dropped your gaze, as you whispered your answer. "My….my singing."

 "What? You sound bloody brilliant! The others have heard you more than me but you always sound amazing!" Sigurd exclaimed, a beaming smile on his face. "I don't know why you haven't gone out with me before! Oh! I'd love for you to try and sing in my band, we could use an amazing vocalist like you! Gods, we could get way more gigs with a beautiful woman like you upfront singing."

 Soon as Sigurd started talking, you covered your face with your hands. The tears you managed to repress earlier flooded back. Your shoulders hunched over, cowering into yourself at the revelation. They had all heard you. Apparently more than just this one time. It was mortifying. Long ago you stopped singing in front of others, no longer able to face the ridicule, the degrading comments always thrown your way. And now, these brothers that you had become so close to…. if they said anything negative towards you right now, you were sure your heart would fully break and no lyric would ever pass your lips again. 

 Hvitserk shifted behind you, turning you so he could wrap both arms around your waist and place his cheek against the side of your head. "Y/n, talk to us." 

 You shook your head, the barely suppressed tears and poisoned words clogging your throat. 

 Abruptly, a pair of calloused hands grabbed yours, forcing them away from your face. You were immediately met by a pair of piercing blue eyes, only inches from your face. 

 "Whose ass am I killing now? Huh?" Ivar demanded in a low, menacing tone. Between his tone and the fury burning in his eyes, you knew he meant his question, and that sent a nervous chill down your spine. 

 "It's not…. it’s nothing."

 "Bullshit." Ivar spat. 

 Hvitserk nuzzled your temple, his voice lighter but still with an edge of steel in it. "I agree with Ivar. Something happened."

 Biting your bottom lip, you closed your eyes. There were a few things that were just too painful to talk about and this one, they had unknowingly stumbled upon. 

 "Was it your mother?"

 Your eyes flew open, your head snapped over to stare at Ubbe in shock. He met your gaze unflinchingly, and somehow you knew he already figured at least part of it out. He accidentally overheard a phone conversation between you and your mother one time and once you got off the phone, he immediately pulled you into a bone-crushing hug and promised you never had to see her again if you never wanted to, that they would take care of you. Of course, you cried all over him after he promised that. 

 Ubbe leaned forward in the recliner, placing his elbows on his knees, gaze still intent on you. "What did she do?"

 "She…. she hated when I sang. Said I was just desperate for attention. That I needed to just shut up. That no one would want to listen to me anyway. If she ever caught me singing…. once she duct-taped my mouth shut."

 You could hear the gasps at your confession, followed by a round of curses. Hvitserk pressed a kiss to your temple, tightening his hold on you. Ivar squeezed your hands, still holding them within his own. 

 Ubbe nodded as if not surprised. He ran a hand down his face and sighed before stealing your gaze once again. "I have a feeling she wasn't the only one to hurt you."

 At this point, a silent tear trekked down your cheek. You sniffled, dropping your gaze down. "I had an ex who used to make fun of my singing. He used to say 'at least you're pretty'. When we would ride together listening to music, he would tell me to stop singing and 'leave it to the professionals'. At some point, it just….it was better to not sing in front of anyone. So I only sang in the shower cause I thought no one would hear me."

 Hvitserk turned your head, looking into your eyes. "Baby, listen to me. Your singing is incredible. We all love listening to you sing. Please don't be embarrassed about this with us."

 "I'd love for you to walk around the house singing, I could happily listen to that all day." Ubbe said, a tender smile on his lips. 

 "I second that!" 

 "Sig, you're only here on Sundays." Ubbe glanced over at his brother. 

 Sigurd shrugged. "So? I could listen to her sing all day. Maybe she should move in with me and actually be appreciated."

 "No! You're not stealing her from us!" Hvitserk said, practically cradling you against him, like a puppy afraid to lose its favorite toy.

 "It's not stealing if she wants to go!" 

 Ivar butted in. "I am more interested in this other shitty ex and mother...can I find them?"

 "No, Ivar. You have to stop threatening people."

 "Why?" He whined at you, tugged on your hands, your legs still across his lap. "You won't let me teach them a lesson so all I can do is threaten."

 "Also sounds like you have terrible taste in guys. Anymore shitty exes we should know about?" Sigurd asked, rocking his chair. 

 You figured at this point you were spilling all your dirty secrets so what was one more. "Um, I was talking to this one guy but when he found out I moved in here, he called me a whore for moving in with two brothers and told me I was a waste of his time." You softly admitted, having made sure none of them ever heard about that after it happened. 

 For a moment there was dead silence then….

 "I'm going to need his name right now." Ubbe said, malice dripping off every word. 

 "Yeah! Let's cut his tongue out! See what he says about that!" Ivar cheered. 

 You could not stop the laughter that came out. The idea that these brothers got so worked up over anyone that ever insulted or hurt you was both sweet and slightly infuriating, but mostly sweet. No one had ever cared about you as strongly as these four brothers. 

 "It's fine now. How about this? Next guy to hurt me, I promise I'll give you his name."

 "No! I want to cut this asshole's tongue out. Maybe slap him with it after!" Ivar smiled with a pure predatory look. 

 "I think you should just date one of us." Sigurd shrugged, watching everyone with a smirk. "Then you know he'd treat you right."

 "I like this idea." Hvitserk smiled, squeezing you lightly. "We would romance the hell out of you."

 "You guys are being silly. I don't even know what romance would look like." You giggled at the absurd idea. All the brothers were gorgeous in their own ways and could pick up any girl they wanted, why would they want you? Besides, your relationships were just platonic. "Is the interrogation over now? Want me to leave so you can get back to your game?"

 "Nope, you're stuck here." Ivar said, leaning on you now so you were sandwiched between the two brothers. 

 Ubbe chuckled. "We've told you before, you are welcome to hang out with us. Why don't we put in a movie?"

 After many arguments and some mild threats, a movie was finally chosen. You settled against Hvitserk, facing the TV, as you played with Ivar's hair, his head now in your lap. 

 As you watched the movie, you missed the silent conversation between the brothers happening around you. It was decided that your next boyfriend would certainly be one of them and in the meantime, they were all going to romance the hell out of you and make sure you understood how important and incredible you are. 

 Starting with making sure you sang whenever you wanted. 

[mieohmy]

𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝖲𝖺𝗐 𝖸𝗈𝗎 | 𝖧𝗎𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖱𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇

PAIRING: huang renjun x temp blind! reader

GENRE: angst (with a happy ending), fluff, humor, strangers-to-lovers, shared dreams! au, soulmate! au, college au

WC: 7.6k

NOTES: reader is temporarily blind, cursing, mentions of a car accident, trauma, slight anxiety and depression, mentions of injuries/hospitals

SUMMARY: dreams are your place where you feel alive -feel like yourself. the only place you can still see. which means you don’t want to share them. not with this random guy who keeps appearing in them, and especially not since he seems so real -almost like he actually exists in the real world outside of your dreams, but that couldn’t be possible... right?

oof this is late- anyways, it’s this beautiful soul’s birthday today <3 

hbd to our fairy renjunnie ! 

Three months. Three months stuck in that space.  

And all because of a reckless driver. Like they all say, it happened so fast. A single glance of the road. It seemed clear, the pedestrian sign flashing even. 

Then was the rush of a car engine coming closer. 

You suppose it was also your fault. Whoever it was that caused a notification to ping on your phone. It was an almost natural instinct to take it out and check.

But you were never able to find out. 

One of the scariest things in the world is to wake up and wonder why the world is an empty canvas. 

Why you have so many questions that can’t be answered.  

Why you can’t see the spring anymore.

The doctors said it was temporary. Some kind of head trauma from the accident caused whatever nerves to swell in your eyes. 

And that’s why you could no longer see the day. or night. anything. 

“It’ll eventually return to normal, and you’ll be able to see again. Just give it time.”

So why has it been three months and nothing except dark moving shadows and pain?

“I’m sorry, we’re not sure how long it’s gonna last. Let’s just wait and see.”

But how much time did you have to give? 

You were sent home in the end. The other injuries were much more minor, and you were just prolonging your stay. 

Only because you wanted to know. You wanted to know it would all go away. That it would be okay.

You just so desperately wanted to see once more.

They only gave you ambiguous answers. Answers that only made the scratchy and uncomfortable sensation inside you grow bigger. 

And here you were now. Four months after the incident and barely living on your own. Sight not improving in the slightest bit.

You lived separately from your parents, far away because of college. They helped you with all the hospital and stupid complicated health stuff, but there wasn’t much else they could do. There was no choice for them but to work hard and earn money instead of assisting you since bills were shit expensive.

You assured them it was fine, you would learn how to deal with everything. 

Friends were a different issue. The thing was, you didn’t have very many considering you just moved to a new school, but the few you did were kind and understanding. 

Except you never told them about the incident. Maybe because you were in denial. Maybe cause you were ashamed of yourself for ignoring them and cutting them out of your life. Because they got to see and experience everything they wanted while you were stuck behind.

And then you were truly alone. Alone with the faint light and shadows you were still sort of able to see. 

Siri basically became your best friend. You never realized how helpful it could be. Just ask, and it would tell you everything you needed to know.

To be honest, there wasn’t much to do. You weren’t able to attend your classes for the time being, and there wasn’t much you could to do without seeing. 

It was hard to adjust to life without your sight. There were a lot of things you couldn’t do without your sight. A lot of things were knocked over. A lot of bruises on your body from bumping into obstacles. That’s probably why you barely went out, only ever leaving your place for necessary resources to live.

This is not permanent. It’ll all go away soon.

You constantly told yourself that, repeating it in the morning. At night before you went to bed. But deep inside, you knew the real reason for everything. The denial, stubbornness.

The answer was clear. 

Fear. 

The fear of a permanent life without being able to fully experience the world. 

The fear of what your life would become without having the chance to achieve all your dreams and goals. 

You knew you should be grateful. For being able to see from birth until now.  You survived your accident with mostly minor injuries. Occasionally, you would get intense migraines- one where you could barely move- but you truly didn’t want to go back to that place to get it checked. You didn’t even want to leave your home.

At least you could still move and function properly for the most part. 

But it didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt. 

There was one thing. When your eyes closed for the day- when everything was okay. 

Because there was no need to feel any emotions asleep. 

But also because of the dreams. Mainly because of the dreams.

It wasn’t every day. You would absolutely love to dream every night, but if you did, then something must not be right. 

The power to dream and be able to recall everything in the world before you lost it all would be your one wish if anyone asked. 

Sure, you could just close your eyes and remember whatever you wanted, but it wasn’t the same. 

Dreams were like a story. A story you wanted to read. And you could only do it because of your memories. 

Thank the universe for memories. Ones that allowed you to still remember and see again in dreams. 

They were the one thing connecting you to the real world. 

The weird thing is, sometimes you would dream and be able to choose what you wanted to say and do. It was just like playing a fun game where you could do whatever you wished.

But it didn’t always happen. it only occurred on occasion. Why? You had no clue. 

But even so, you’ve never had a stranger appear in one of your dreams before.

ꔫ

You couldn’t recall everything that happened in last night’s dream, but when you woke up, a strange face was the only image stuck in your brain. 

You’re sure you’ve never seen him before. 

Can brains make up random faces? Or maybe you just made up a fictional character because of loneliness? 

Either way, he’s the only thing you can clearly remember.

Your eyes flick open, and it’s the same nothingness.

But his face lingers. Pretty and delicate eyes. Brown hair that flutters in the wind and a gentle smile that sucks you in. 

Who are you? 

Whoever this person was, you hope to dream about him again. 

ꔫ

And he does show up a few weeks later. Or has it been a month? You were really losing track of the days, especially now more than ever.

This time, the image of him is stronger in your head, burning into your skull. 

And you curse yourself for not remembering any more than his face. 

You rack your brain, trying your best to just think. 

Why do some people forget their dreams immediately when they wake up? When it feels like you’re just in one, but your mind starts up again for the day, and the dream vanishes just like that?  

You so desperately want to know. 

You can faintly remember images of a grassy meadow? Flowers? You don't recall any field that you’ve been to, but maybe it’s just somewhere you’ve forgotten about... Perhaps your mind just made your dream to be located there. 

As you get up for the day, you still wish to dream about him. A dream where you can fully control yourself and find this imaginary character you created in your head. Whoever he is.

ꔫ

And the world grants you that one wish. 

It’s been a while since you last dreamed. But of course, you never forgot him. 

The setting sun is the first thing that catches your attention. 

Immediately, you smile, standing up and brushing yourself off. 

The place is faintly familiar, a beach. You know which one. The one your parents used to take you when you were little. 

It looks exactly the same as you remember, but this was the first time you’ve ever dreamed about this specific place before. 

Then sounds of footsteps approaching make you look up.

It’s him.

The fictional character somehow procured from basically nowhere. 

What’s strange is that you didn’t even notice how the two of you were now sitting by the shore, watching the waves flow in and out. 

What’s even stranger is that you don’t question it, and neither does he. 

But you do take the chance to look at him, admiring his face.

“What’s your name?”

He looks startled like he never expected you to speak.

“Oh. Uh, R-Renjun.”

“Renjun,” you pronounce. The name feels unfamiliar on your tongue. 

Now how did your mind come up with a unique name like that?

You shrug, letting the dream continue on its own. 

But wait, you realize, if you were able to ask and think your own thoughts not according to the dream’s... that means you can control this-

Your eyes snap open. You can see nothing. And feel an oncoming headache.

Damn it.

ꔫ

You want to know why you’re so curious about this ‘character’. Why you want to see him over and over again without ever getting bored.

It’s just a dream. Or, several dreams that he’s appeared in by now. 

That could be it, you suppose.

You usually didn’t have about the same person, or in your case, the same ‘character’ appear in your dream three times in a row. 

But for some reason, you appreciated having your own imaginary friend in your dreams. 

 He wasn’t a real person. He wasn’t someone you had to watch out for. You could act however you wanted to him and he probably wouldn’t care. 

Wait-no, you correct yourself. He has a name. A name that seems so far but so close at the same time. 

Renjun. 

You go to sleep chanting his name in your head over and over again. 

ꔫ

“Wait... Renjun!” 

A satisfied grin appears on your face from having remembered his name. 

You stroll along the forest path, an unfamiliar one that you don’t particularly remember ever going to, but you shrug it off and continue towards him.

It’s been a while since you’ve last seen him, not having dreamed for a while. 

His eyes widen, taking you in. “Whoa. You’re here again?” 

You frown. “Um... yes? It’s nice to see you.”

Renjun nods hesitantly. “You too, uh....”

“Y/n!” you beam. You’re not sure why you’re so happy to see him, but any company is still company, so no complaining.

Since you figured you were able to control yourself in this dream, might as well take the opportunity. 

If your brain was able to give him a name and a *cough* pretty *cough* face, he must have a personality. And what better than to get to know ‘renjun’ while you still had dreams about him?

“Do you want to walk together?”

He shrugs. 

And since it’s your dream, right? you start on the path, knowing he’s gonna follow you anyways.

You reach an opening overlooking some city. It’s unfamiliar, but the sight is too pretty you don’t think much of it.

You can’t take your eyes away, the view one you’ve never seen before. One that wasn’t from your memories, and it almost blinds you. Especially since you haven’t been able to experience anything new in a while because of... everything at the moment. 

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

“It is,” Renjun agrees. 

Why is it so natural for you to sit next to him, get along with him?

“I haven’t been able to go out like this for a while, so it’s a lot to take in at once.”

He glances at you.

“Really? Why?”

Suddenly the air feels tightening. 

“Um. Health stuff. I guess.”

Renjun nods. “That’s understandable. But going out might be good for you. It’s nice to get a little fresh air every once in a while.”

His words hit differently. It rings inside of you, making you sit up. 

“You’re right, Renjun. I should go out more.” Your voice is quiet but smooth. 

Suddenly, he laughs. It’s a beautiful sound flowing out in a beautiful place. 

“I say that, but honestly, I’m also holed up inside all day. I need to go out more too.”

You don’t get what he means by that- why does it matter to a non-existent person how often they go outside?- but the feeling of just being here is incredible. You can’t waste your time in this dream pondering on pointless thoughts. 

“You should take advantage of it. You never know what could happen one day. Never take things for granted.” You finish, voice suddenly serious.

He looks surprised. “Oh. I suppose you’re right. Thanks, y/n.” 

Instead of responding, you sit back on the ground, looking at the dream -but still beautiful- sky.

Your hand pats around for a second before landing on its target. Your fingers wrap around renjun's, pulling him back so he plops down next to you with a grunt. 

“Geez, could’ve given a warning.”

“There’s no need for warnings here,” you sigh. 

Sure, the clouds aren’t real, but you’ll take any chance to see something you can’t in reality anymore. 

“Y/n,” he starts.

And when you turn to look at him, his face is a lot closer than you thought.

There’s a pause. 

The last things you remember are his long fluttering eyelashes and alluring brown eyes- ones that look so realistic and strangely familiar? 

That morning, you wake up with the scent of the woods still lingering in the air and a little more ease in your heart.

ꔫ

Over the next couple of months, Renjun keeps appearing. And you’re completely fine, even delighted with that. 

Now you’re always excited to go to bed, hoping each night that you’ll dream about him. 

Even as the days get hotter and your a/c is definitely getting overused, you find yourself thinking about him and imagining if he was next to you. 

You had to keep reminding yourself that Renjun wasn’t real. No matter how much you wished he was. 

But you still considered Renjun your friend. Technically, your only friend.

And each time you met in your dreams, you felt happier and more content. You felt alive next to him, your heart that always beat faster around him only confirming it. 

Sometimes you’d spot Renjun in a place from your memories, and sometimes he would appear in a completely unfamiliar area to you. 

You didn’t care enough to think twice. A new place with new sights was a highlight to your encounters. 

And today, it was no different. A colorful park. You know you’ve never been here before, but it feels like you’ve seen it somewhere..... perhaps somewhere online? 

Ever since the second time you met him, you noticed a theme with the unknown places you sometimes ended up in. 

Mostly in nature, surrounded by fresh air and plentiful green. You were confused, but I mean, who cares? They were beautiful, peaceful. Places that made you forget everything. 

You find Renjun sitting down at a nearby bench, messing with his hands.

“Hi.”

He looks up, attempting to smile, but it falls short. “Hello, y/n.”

That’s interesting. Renjun always seemed happy to see you. At this point, you can tell when he’s acting strange or not.

You decide to play along. “What’s up?”

“Oh. It’s nothing. Just really stressed about upcoming school stuff.” You cock an eyebrow, amused. This isn’t the first time you’ve felt weird when he says something like that.

“You know, for being an imaginary character, you sure act like a real person.”

“What did you just say?” Renjun stands up.

You follow, getting up and looking at him, confused. “What?”

“What the hell do you mean by imaginary?”

“Imaginary? You don’t exist -like you’re not real?”

“No way.”

Your eyebrows raise. Why was he getting so defensive over this?

“I’m not an imaginary character- you are.”

A scoff escapes your lips. What the fuck?

“Stop talking nonsense.” Even though you’re trying to stand your ground, you can’t help but reevaluate everything. You look at him, panicked but still staring straight into his eyes as if to say, stop the joking right now.

Renjun only stares at you, fighting back with a headstrong expression. “I’m not. So you should stop too.”

You place your hand on his arm, inhaling.

Renjun tries to pull away, bewildered, but you keep your grip.

His arm feels warm, veins partially showing through. Almost like a real.....no way. But there’s even a faint scar on his wrist. Your brain couldn’t possibly be so meticulous as to add such details to a fictional person.

Your eyes flick to Renjun, studying him, memorizing everything you can about him.

Your breathing is heavy as you step closer to him, almost in a daze. “If you’re not just an imaginary person I created in my dreams,” you whisper, watching as he swallows and his adam’s apple bobs up and down-

“Then who are you?”

But before he can say anything, the world fades to black. 

You wake up with an immense urge to scream in frustration but also hide away to just think everything over.

You lay in bed for what feels like hours. Contemplating. Panicking. 

This was a joke, wasn’t it? 

He’s lying. 

Just a dream? 

But this time, you can’t say that it was “just a dream..”

Your hand punches the bed in defeat.  

You don’t understand. How are you able to see another living and breathing human in your dreams? 

All the things and places you were able to dream about were because of your memories. But Renjun... Renjun was a complete stranger. 

So how are you able to see him perfectly fine?

You think back to all the previous times you met him. 

If he truly was real, then he must’ve been dreaming too? Since he believed you weren’t real either? 

And all the unrecognizable places you saw -they must exist in real life? 

That means.... you and Renjun must be sharing dreams.

There were a lot of questions. All that were making your brain pound. 

More importantly, how the fuck are you even able to share dreams with another person? 

ꔫ

You spend every night praying that you’ll fall asleep and see Renjun again. 

Renjun? Is that even his real name?

Oh my god, you don’t know anything about him. 

But for some reason, it isn’t hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that he exists. 

His reaction seemed so real -he couldn’t possibly be faking right? 

You smack your head on the pillow. Many times. Repeating, “Go to sleep. Dream. Go to sleep,” over and over again. 

Until eventually, you do. 

And when you find yourself at your old middle school- gross- you immediately start. 

Getting up, you navigate throughout the old place. Everywhere’s blurry and hazy though, you suppose it’s because you haven’t been here in a while and forgot.  

Where is he? You know he has to be here somewhere. 

You spot his familiar silhouette. Target acquired. 

He must’ve felt your presence too, since he turns around to face you. 

You’re about to say his name, but then you remember the whole ‘he’s actually a real person thing’ and then you can only splutter out an accusing “you!” with an accompanying point of a finger. 

“Me?” His eyes widen. “No-you’re not supposed to be a real person. So who are you?”

“I’m y/n.” You repeat yourself again with more force. 

“This is my dream, and you’re in it. Look,” you gesture around. “This is my old school. If I wasn’t real, could we be here at a place like this?”

Renjun falters, and you exhale. “I’m not joking. I swear. My name is y/l/n y/n.”

He holds his hands out. “B-but how? How can you-?”

You shake your head wearily. “I don’t know. I don’t even know you!” 

He sighs in defeat. “My name is Renjun. Huang Renjun. And I promise I’m not joking either. I truly thought you were just a figment of my imagination.” 

You nod, fidgeting before holding out a hand. “Well then, I believe you. Nice to meet you,” you look into his glittering eyes, “Huang Renjun.” 

When his hand touches yours, you feel a rush of emotions. 

You think he does too, judging by his tightening grip on yours. 

He quickly takes his hand away, making you frown. “And just to prove it, you know the forest we were at once?”

You nod, recalling the pretty leaves. You haven’t seen leaves in a while.....

“It’s near my city in the real world. And that mountain too.”

Then it hits you. You glance up at Renjun, surprised. 

“No way. I know where you’re talking about. You live like, a couple of hours away from me.” 

“Wait, really? Where do you-“

You sit up, feeling the familiar sensation of a blanket around your legs. 

And then let out a loud screech of frustration - while also internally apologizing to your neighbors.

ꔫ

When you meet Renjun in the next dream, you pick off where you left off, and move into telling each other about your actual lives.

“You study plants? That explains why we’re always near grass in your dreams.”

“Hey!”

“I’m joking. It’s really nice. I like it more than you may think..”

“Seriously,” you look up from your position on his lap, “savor it while you can.”

He nods dutifully. To others, it may seem annoying or strange that you’re constantly telling him to enjoy when he still has the time, but Renjun appreciates it. 

It’s always a nice reminder.

He assumes something must’ve happened to you before, but nevertheless, he doesn’t pry. 

“What about you? What are you studying?”

Suddenly, you can’t look at him. You're unable to tell him that you don’t even attend school anymore. 

“Um, I’m still deciding... it’s hard, you know?”

“I get it. Comfortably take your time. You don’t have to rush, do what you want.”

Your heart warms. 

“Can you cook?”

“Eh.”

“What about roller skating?”

“I’m a pro.”

“Bet I could beat you.” 

“Oh yeah? Just wait, one day we’ll go together in person, and I’ll kill you at it.” 

“What about aliens?”

Your eyebrows raise. “What about aliens?”

“What- what do you think of them?”

“Oh. Aliens are cool.” 

“Do you think they’re real?

“Sure. I mean, if we’re able to share dreams like this, then why can’t aliens exist too?”

You miss the growing smile on renjun’s face. 

“.... is this what you really look like in real life?”

“What- yes! Why would I look like someone else in my dream?”

“I dunno, you’re a lot more handsome than most guys I can remember..” you trail off, hoping he doesn’t catch the rest of the sentence. He does. 

That goes on for a while, asking each other random questions. But while you’re still here in the dream, you should take advantage of it. 

Standing up, you brush yourself off. 

“Huh, what’s up y/n?”

“The sky.”

Renjun scowls. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.”

And then you sprint off, yelling, “first one to the tree gets bragging rights!!”

Renjun falls halfway, and you have to help him and his dramatic ass. 

ꔫ

When Renjun brings up the prospect of possibly meeting each other in real life, you’re both really excited at first. 

But then it hits you. That’s right. You’re kinda blind at the moment. 

You never once told him about your... sight problems, probably because you first thought he wasn’t even a real person, and it never seemed important. 

As Renjun sits there, excitedly listing off ways to find each other that actually while you’re awake, you can only absentmindedly nod, a storm brewing inside you. 

It makes your insides churn. Should you tell him? 

You hated lying, but there was that growing insecurity rising up. 

What if he finds out everything and doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore?

What if Renjun doesn’t want to be your friend? 

What if... 

He leaves you?

“Y/n???” He waves a hand in front of you. 

You blink. “Yes?”

“I was just talking about how it’ll take around 3 hours to take the subway to your city or, yours to mine. When we both have a free day, we should meet up!”

He looks so excited and cute, but you still cringe. When was the last time you took the subway? 

You nod uneasily. Renjun must notice your expression because he turns concerned, “Are you alright?”

You hastily smile. “Fine. Just really stressed about upcoming school stuff,” you joke. 

That answer must be good enough because he drops the subject. 

What have you gotten yourself into?

ꔫ

And for the first time, you’re scared to dream. 

Scared to see Renjun. 

Stress and anxiety gnaw at your head, swirling thoughts constantly floating in and out. 

Renjun won’t like you anymore. 

He doesn’t want to be with a liar.

And after he excitedly mentions that he obtained an internship near your city in the spring, your guilt and frustration grow more.

Since that one conversation, you’ve been having more and more headaches, most likely because of the lack of sleep from stress.

Renjun’s probably sleeping peacefully hours away from you as you stay up, plagued with concerns.

You shake your head, wanting to get rid of bad thoughts so the pain doesn’t overtake your brain again. 

Think of happy things. Happy memories when you were young and carefree. 

Like.... the one water park you went to with your friends years ago. That was a good memory.

You rack your brain.

Wait a second -what did it look like again?

ꔫ

As the air turns colder, you have to bust out the old heater that hasn’t been used in years-the dust floating in the air lingered for days. 

Overtaking your breathing, your brain. 

Just like your thoughts. 

You’re still constantly worrying about Renjun.  Because of Renjun.

And yourself. 

You and Renjun. 

Renjun and you. 

All those thoughts weren’t good for you. Why you may ask?

More thoughts lead to overthinking. 

Overthinking leads to stress. 

Stress causes the agonizing headaches. 

And those headaches are the bane of your existence.

Because it makes you unable to recall. 

The headaches weren’t a big deal at first. After the car accident, the doctors said your brain seemed clear for the most part. 

But obviously- it wasn’t- since you were here now with daily migraines- the pain multiplied from anxiety. 

And that caused your memory loss.

It was simple things at first, just like what you ate for the day and where you put your stuff. (It was already difficult since you couldn’t see, and the forgetful memory was making it so much worse) 

And then it was the more important recollections. 

Like what your parents' birthdays were. Your favorite restaurant. What schools you attended.

You don’t want to admit that the only thing left perfectly clear in your brain is yours truly, Huang Renjun. 

This isn’t happening. 

Pigs can’t fly and.... you can’t remember. 

Why? Every time you try to think of something, your brain pounds like crazy.

You really don’t want to believe it’s an effect of the accident. And the stress. 

You don’t want to think about it at all. 

But sadly, you were still human and had to sleep. 

Which meant eventually dreaming sooner or later...

“Y/n!” 

Wait. What?

“What’s going on?”

No. What’s happening?

“I know people don’t dream that often, but three months and nothing from you? I went to bed, happy at the thought that we might meet again, but it’s like you’re purposely not sleeping and avoiding me or something-!” 

There’s no way you heard everything he just said, even his irritated tone that you’ve never heard before didn’t faze you. 

Due to the fact that everything except Renjun himself was a blur.

Basically- you couldn’t see shit. 

Your heart rate begins to pick up. You swirl around, squinting and rubbing your eyes like crazy. 

Why? Why is this happening? Why can’t you see the dream world around you?

But you know the reason- it’s quite obvious. 

Since your memory disappeared just like that. And without your memories, everything has crumbled to nothing. 

Ironically, you forgot about Renjun who was still standing there, perfectly fine.  

“Y/n? What wrong?”

He snaps a finger in front of you, and you barely react.

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Your voice has been reduced to a whisper.

“Listen-I-why are you lying? I thought we were friends. I thought we trusted each other enough to talk honestly.”

It’s too much. Renjun’s growing anger plus everything you’re experiencing at the moment is overwhelming. 

“Just stop-!” You screech, arms held out in front to protect yourself from everything. 

He freezes. 

And you collapse on the ground, hands shaking as you look around. Look for anything you can clearly see. 

There’s nothing.

The worst pain ever runs through your brain- the feeling to curl up in a ball and stop everything is strong. 

“Y/n- please. Please talk to me.”

He leans in front of you. 

“I- see-“ you splutter, collecting your thoughts.

Your mouth forms the words but immediately comes to a halt.

He doesn’t know. 

You stare at him, helpless. Your eyes flicking all over the place, pupils dilated. 

Renjun does the only thing he can think of at the moment. 

He places his lips on yours, and your eyes automatically close. 

Your heart steadies, adrenaline slowly fading. 

He just feels... right. 

And then his hand brings your body closer to his, making- 

You sit up in bed, breathing heavily. 

All you can think is, 

what a dream. 

And as much as you still feel the ghost of his soft lips on yours, you can’t get over the fact that everything else was blurry. 

You could only see faint lights and shadows. 

You couldn’t remember. 

ꔫ

No. 

What does the sky look like again? 

No.

Why can’t you remember the day anymore?

You spend days- weeks maybe even- trying to recall as much as possible. And spend less time attempting to sleep for the chance that you’ll have to see Renjun again. 

Your mind is in shambles. One part of you is yearning to see him -find Renjun in the dreams again and explain everything. 

But the other part is scared. Extremely terrified at his reaction. His feelings. 

Will he still- you dare to say- like you? 

I mean, that kiss had to mean something, right? 

Right?

You smack the nearest object in exasperation.

I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. 

Can everything just stop? 

Your poor pillow has been punched into oblivion by now. 

Either way, you fall into what could be considered a slump. 

A slump in life. 

The uncomfortable sensation grows bigger and bigger each day since the only thing you can do is stay at home and dwell on the fact that your life is basically over now.

There's no recovery in sight -ha- of your future. 

Each night is spent exerting your aching brain to recall. 

The only thing that comes back is Huang Renjun.

But once again, you’re only human. A human that occasionally passes out from the lack of sleep.

Renjun would be nagging at you. Your heart automatically drops at the thought of him. How long has it been since you last seen him?

More importantly- how long has it been since you last properly slept? 

You can’t even see yourself but you know the eye bags you’re carrying are bigger and brighter than your future. 

You call out for Siri. 

“It’s currently 3:21 AM.“ 

You sigh, so desperately wanting to chuck your phone across the room even though you know finding where you threw it would take hours. 

Pathetic. 

And then you figured you must’ve fallen asleep. 

Because you open your eyes. And at first, it just seems like another day of barely making it through life, but no- this is different. 

You’re not in your bed. You’re on a blank, hard surface.  

You realize where you are right as a familiar voice calls out your name. 

The fear that courses through you is a feeling to laugh at.

“What the fuck, y/n.”

There’s no way you’re getting out of this. 

“What’s going on? I just wanna know why. You ghost me for months without saying anything. I deserve an explanation.” Renjun’s fists are clenched at his side, anger barely seeping through. 

You sigh wearily, partly from him and partly from the fact that you still can’t see anything else except his face. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been going through stuff, okay?” You hope your tone is enough to tell him that you don’t want to talk about this anymore.

But it isn’t. 

“What things? You can tell me, y/n. I thought we were close enough for that. I thought we trusted each other.”

As much as your heart clenches at his words, it isn’t enough to suppress the frustration building inside you. 

“This isn’t about trust, Renjun. It doesn’t matter if I trust you or not. What does it have to do with me telling you about my life? It’s my privacy.”

His eyes burn into yours. 

“So you don’t trust me?”

“What- of course, I do! Why are you so stuck up on that?”

“Cause I care about you,” he groans, running his hands through his hair. “I care about you- a lot- but clearly, you don’t seem to return the feelings!” 

“What? What makes you think that!?” 

“Because you act like this!” He forcefully gestures. “Because you push me away without any explanation and don’t show any sign of your feelings! Don’t seem affected like I am when I haven’t seen you in months and miss you, okay?”

You pinch your nose bridge, annoyed. “Well, I’m different. If you cared about me that much, wouldn’t you have noticed?”

You know your words mean nothing. They’re just randomly produced from the deepest, darkest insecurities that are pent up inside and need to escape. 

“What’s so different about you? As far as I’ve known and seen you, you’re just another human like me-“

“-Because I can’t see fucking anything, okay?” You yell, forcing yourself to take a breath. 

“I’ve been blind for what seems like forever, and at first it was all okay, but now I can’t remember anything except you, which means I can’t see shit. Is that a good enough answer for you?”

You feel your body trembling, barely able to look at him. 

A good silence lasts for a couple of minutes. 

You turn around, anywhere away so you don’t have to look at his face anymore- since he’s stupidly the only thing you can even see. 

You don’t know what to feel. Perhaps relief for finally saying it? Exhaustion from keeping everything pent up and finally letting it all out? 

Then you recognize the sensation. 

You’re waking up. 

You think Renjun calls your name at the exact moment. But it’s too late. You’re already gone at that point. 

And now you don’t know what to do. 

ꔫ

After that, you get the best sleep in your life.  There’s surprisingly no more stress about lying to Renjun, you already spilled everything. 

On the other hand, there is his whole response. But you bury those worries deep inside. 

Maybe it’s for the better, you think. After the fight, you couldn’t the guilt go. The angered lies that slipped from your lips won’t leave. 

Renjun doesn’t deserve someone like you. 

But for once, you decide to go out. To get some needed fresh air like someone once advised you to, and also because you’re running out of food to eat. 

Before you leave, you grab the sunglasses on the counter and put them on. Most people would just think you’re avoiding the spring sun, which is exactly what you wanted.

You didn’t want them to see your blank stare and then realize that you had lost your sight. It was simply more comfortable for you and others. 

It was always a challenge to go out. Strange how normal people would never think twice before closing the door behind them and entering the outside world, but it became something you had to prepare yourself for. 

Taking a deep breath, you close the door behind you and navigate as best as you can to the nearby cafe. 

Sure, you barely left your place, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy a refreshing drink outside every once in a while. 

Two people bump into your side, and you barely spare them a second, continuing on. 

An apology is given, but you brush it off, hiding your face and quickly continuing on. 

That’s strange. One of the voices sounded really familiar, but it was too quick, and you barely heard the voice enough to pinpoint it. 

It happened all the time- if not always- running into another person. But this time, it was different. After touching the stranger's shoulder by accident, it felt like a flame burst inside of you. Intense enough to make your head spin a little and set your body alight. 

And the sun wasn’t making it better. 

Gosh, why is the sun so bright today? 

You brush it off, opening the door to the cafe and taking your sunglasses off to be polite and not seem weird or suspicious. 

You squint at the board, cautiously walking to the register and ordering. 

After they confirm your order, you find a nice spot alone in the corner. 

It’s not too busy or slow today, you note. But soon boredom overcomes you, and eventually, you find yourself staring at the entrance door whenever someone new enters for no reason in particular. 

The entrance bell rings, and your eyes subconsciously flick to see who it is. 

Wait. 

No fucking way. 

It can’t be. 

Huang Renjun?

 in your city?

Entering the same cafe you were currently at? 

You suddenly remember. One dream, a long time ago when he excitedly rambled on about that internship he got. Located where you lived. That’s right, he said it was in the springtime. And here he was now. 

A string of curses run through your brain, your heart beginning to pick up its pace in panic. 

You debate just leaving. But your order..... oh god, what if he sees you? 

Will he recognize you? Stupid, obviously Renjun would recognize you. 

What if he comes up to you? 

Shit, you have no clue what to do. 

Maybe if you just look away and hide your face when he passes, then he won’t see you. 

You look down, pretending to be occupied with your shirt and shuddering when you hear his voice get closer.

You let out a tiny sigh of relief when he passes with someone else, you suppose a friend. But it’s not over. 

“Order for y/n!”

You unleash more curses internally. Of course, they had to call your name. Of fucking course. 

You desperately hope Renjun isn’t paying attention.  

Exhaling, you try to act as normal as possible walking up to get your drink. But before you even make it there, you can feel eyes on you. It burns the back of your head. 

You scream into your mouth, teeth gritting to barely muffle the sound. 

It’s okay, just pretend you can’t see him -you already yelled at him confessing that you were blind anyway, so maybe he thinks that you can’t see him. 

It’s fine. 

Act normal. 

You obtain your order and take one step carefully at a time. 

Oh no. 

Oh no- he’s coming towards you. You can just barely see in your peripheral view Renjun approaching and getting closer. 

“Y/n.” 

You try not to stiffen at his voice. Just act like you’re blind and can’t see him. 

Turning around, you pretend to act blank. “Yes? Who’s talking to me?”

“Y/n,” Renjun says more insistently. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. Who are you?”

And then his hand reaches out to yours.

You panic, swatting it away. 

You hear renjun's breath hitch. “Wait- how did you do that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Y-you,” he stutters, “you blocked my hand. B-but how? I don’t-“

You frown. “Cause I saw it?”

Your hand raises up to cover your mouth. 

You saw his hand. 

You can see. 

What- when did this happen? 

How did this happen?

Why didn’t you notice? 

There are so many things swirling in your mind, but Renjun calls your name again. 

You look back at him, truly look at him, and suddenly it’s like all the puzzle pieces fit together. 

He’s breathtaking. It’s so different seeing him in person and not in your dreams. If anything, you’re jealous of how much prettier he seems in real life. 

You’re not sure how long you stare at each other. Seeing those eyes that once captivated your soul right in front of you. 

“The last time I saw you was in my dream,” you breathe, “but it feels like the first time I’m meeting you.” 

Renjun doesn’t say anything, and abruptly you find yourself in his arms. 

You don’t care that you’re hugging in the middle of a public place, it just feels so right. 

You bury your face in his shoulder, unable to speak.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you. I was just so afraid at what you'd say, and I just liked you too much and I’m sorry-“

Renjun pulls back, staring at you like he hasn’t seen anything more magnificent before. 

“It doesn’t matter. You can tell me everything you want now.” 

ꔫ

“I’m happy to report that the swelling in your optic nerves has gone down. It’s like a miracle occurred,” the doctor remarks.

Luckily, renjun’s internship lasted for a couple weeks, and you were able to spend as much time as possible with him. The only time you weren’t next to his side was when he was working or you were at the doctor's to check up on your condition. 

There was no more blankness. There were no more headaches. It’s like Renjun brought a breath of fresh air into your life. It’s almost like he was meant for you. 

You simply smile and laugh at the doctor as you think, 

Yes, a miracle did happen. One where I met the person who seemed only like a dream and learned the most important lesson in my life. 

That dreams really can come true.

Bonus : 

“Renjun, you’re going the wrong way.”

“Well excuse me for not having ever been to this place before.”

“Okay, you’re excused.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, and you grin cheekily before taking his hand. 

“C’mon, we still have to get to the top.” 

“Did you get the blankets?”

“Yep.”

“And the snacks?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got your favorite.” 

It’s been so long since you came here. Your favorite spot to stargaze. The one you went to all the time before the accident. The one you were going to when the car accident happened. 

But this time it was different. You had Renjun next to you. 

After ten minutes of hiking and Renjun complaining, you finally make it to the top of the secluded hill, the night sky seeming so close and yet so far. 

Renjun takes everything in with a breath. “Wow. I can see why you love this place.”

You feel a rush of emotions. How long has it been since you were able to come here and see the stars? 

You two set up the blankets and sit back, embracing the sight. 

He sits down on the blanket, and you automatically lie down next to him, placing your head in his lap. 

“Doesn’t this remind of you that one dream where we saw your city from above?”

Renjun grins. “I remember that. I still thought that you were just a fake simulation or whatever. And now look, we’re together in real life.”

You hum thoughtfully. 

“Thank you, Renjun.”

He looks down at you. “For what?”

Suddenly you can’t look him in the eye. “For everything. For being my friend and never leaving,” you gulp, nervous. 

“I... I love you.” 

Renjun jerks a little, eyes wide. “What did you just say?”

You breathe in, out. “I love you, huang renjun.”

He starts laughing for some reason, leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

“I love you too.”

After that, you enjoy the peaceful silence and the buzz of the insects. 

“...don’t you think this would be a hotspot for aliens to come to? This field is so vast and secluded -if I were an alien, I would come here a lot.”

You shrug. “I don’t know. But I guess I would too.”

Renjun suddenly looks at you with an accusing glare. And you catch on, smacking his side. 

“Don’t even think about it.”

He feigns ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Okay sure. You totally weren’t gonna say something about how I could be an extraterrestrial creature from another planet since I come here so often.” 

“Well-”

You stuff food in his mouth to shut him up. 

He chews for a minute or two before talking again. 

“.... what if we get abducted by them?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. I’ve been here so many times, and nothing happened to me.”

“Maybe that’s because you are a-“

“Oh my gosh. Just stop. And trust me, if I were one, you would already be abducted with that face,” you joke.

You look up from your spot on his lap, staring up at the twinkling lights in the dark sky. 

“It doesn't matter, I’m not scared.”

Renjun looks down at you with a curious smile. “Why?” 

“Because everything got a little better when I saw you.” 

And the stars seem to agree, twinkling in the background when your lips reach up to meet his.

You had so many questions that couldn’t be answered. 

But maybe it would all be okay.  

Because you could suddenly see the spring again.

a/n: if you made it to the end, thank you for reading :) 

also i tried my best to research as much as i could on all related topics to this work yadaddaa but if there are errors and inaccuracies, i apologize! 

taglist: @elcie-chxn @dearseungie​ 

unable to tag: @flower-lise  

[romanticchemacademic]

Dear future health professionals and stem professors,

We need a revolution of thought. Only through a renaissance of pure and genuine passion towards medicine and other sciences will we have competent doctors, nurses, other healthcare workers, and teachers. We live in a world where people pursue noble professions for the sake of social and economic advancement. However, we lack individuals who love the process of learning and their career.

I recollect quite a marvelous excerpt written by one of the world’s greatest scientific minds, Albert Einstein. In his book, The World As I see It he writes:

ACADEMIC CHAIRS ARE MANY, but wise and noble teachers are few; lecture rooms are numerous and large, but the number of young people who genuinely thirst for truth and justice is small. Nature scatters her common wares with a lavish hand, but the choice sort she produces but seldom.

We all know that, so why complain? Was it not ever thus and will it not ever thus remain? Certainly, and one must take what nature gives as one finds it. But there is also such a thing as a spirit of the times, an attitude of mind characteristic of a particular generation, which is passed on from individual to individual and gives a society its particular tone. Each of us has to do his little bit towards transforming this spirit of the times.

Compare the spirit which animated the youth in our universities a hundred years ago with that prevailing today. They had faith in the amelioration of human society, respect for every honest opinion, the tolerance for which our classics had lived and fought. 

  I believe that one of the faults lies within education institutions. Educators rely on testing, textbooks, and detached memorized lectures. Lectures lack passion and another essential factor: the real practice. The theory is important but the practice is necessary to understand the theory. But without passion, nobody will learn to love the material being taught. Ibn Sina is known for being one of the greatest physicians and teachers of Islamic medicine. I am not completely sure whether what I am about to mention is true. But I read that when he lectured theory to the medical students at the Madrassa (University) he would show them how it worked. Besides medical history and theory. He also taught physics, astronomy, philosophy, and mathematics. However, he is also famed for being an excellent teacher duly because he would take his students to test out the theories and practice what they have been taught. If they were learning medical theory, they were taken to the hospital to observe patients and their cases. If they were learning astronomy, they would all gather in the evening to look up at the heavens to look at the constellations. Lastly, his passion for his vocation was the final touch. Educators without the drive cannot teach. Learning is about understanding oneself, others, and the world. Learning evolves our minds and our spirits by making us get in harmony with the universe. I believe this ties in with Aristotle’s famous saying, “The unexamined life is not worth living”. Though my interpretation may be a wee bit off, I translate it as thus; we can gather all textbook knowledge as possible but if we do not put into practice the knowledge learned, what is the point? I yearn and I pine to experience all that I have learned. I want to see why the theory makes sense in reality. I want to conduct experiments. So much potential is being wasted. Biology is the study of life. However, when I took the course, it was so cold to a point that it did not even feel like I was studying the human body but something alien instead. There is also such a rush to memorize material within a couple of weeks because of exams that the material ceases to be interesting and becomes more of an arduous chore instead. Our sense of time-shifted completely after the industrial revolution. Perhaps this is a reason why we feel the need to rush through everything and not take our time to study profoundly. 

We need another Scientific Revolution, curious minds thirsting for the acquisition of knowledge and unanswered questions. However, I believe that the leading force behind this is a necessity. I would like to mention an example to illustrate what I mean from a novel I read a while ago called, The Physician by Noah Gordon. A boy from Medieval Europe lost his mother from an unknown disease leaving him orphaned. He then grew up with the necessity to learn what the disease was and how to prevent other similar deaths, so that others do not suffer what he has suffered. He then worked with Barbers (people who performed medical procedures in Medieval Europe). But the medical knowledge these professionals had was not enough to answer his question. Thus, he traveled to Persia where there was a quite renowned and exclusive medical school. He did not have the economic means or previous schooling to attend but he impressed the headmaster with his passion and knowledge. Thus, the headmaster admitted him into the Madrassa. The European boy then invested all his time doing research, dissections and treating patients until he finally found out what ailment caused his mother’s death, side sickness (appendicitis). He figured out a way to treat this illness, removal of the appendix. From his initial necessity which was the driving force for him to pursue a medical career, he became a famous physician and felt that all his suffering and odyssey were worthwhile. The sense of necessity leads to the feeling of passion. It was his love for his mother that made him follow such a journey full of obstacles. I am beginning to apply that to my own life. I want to figure out my necessity which will be the driving force to power through university and medical school without ever feeling burnt out. I want to feel fulfilled. I believe this is what all pre-medical students and teachers should think about. What is your necessity? We are going to be dealing with human life, someone’s mother, father, friend, sister, uncle, lover, husband, or child...It is not something to be taken lightly. I know so many doctors lacking empathy because they went into the medical field with just the intention of being acknowledged as “Doctors” and getting rich. But I feel that even the most apathetic healthcare workers can become great empathetic professionals the moment they realize that something was triggered deep inside them, perhaps a loved one having an unknown disease. This would lead the apathetic doctor to do mass amounts of research to try to find a cure. This feeling becomes a necessity. A necessity to not lose the loved one. A necessity to save lives. Thus, finding passion, purpose, and becoming a better person. Though each person is different, we all share a selfish feeling. Most of the time we do not truly care about other peoples’ suffering until it happens to us. Once we are affected by something, we drive all our time and attention to find a solution or a way to deal with a problem. We become consumed and completely obsessed by it. I regard this as passion. I do not think passion subsides, it lingers on inside us. It is a fire that never burns out. I remember my high school teacher writing in my yearbook:

Remember a few things, BE PATIENT. You are eager and you will accomplish so much. But take your time, you are always rushing. Life is a journey, it is not about the destination. Be picky. You love everything with enthusiasm but enthusiasm can burn out. Find a fire inside yourself that burns for a long time.

-V

We cannot rush our personal legend. I believe it comes to us. It is Maktub (it’s written). But we also have to do something. Imagine you are on a stranded island but you have a machete, a fishing rod, coconuts, a cave for shelter, wood for a fire, an ocean full of fish. Everything required for survival is there, but you simply have to cut open the coconut with the machete, go fishing for food, fire to cook, and warmth. The fish isn’t going to swim right into your hands and the fire will not light itself. We must use our resources and do our bit. The Universe has a lot going on, we must help out a bit.

If you ever think about quitting, try to remember what made you start your odyssey in the first place. I do not know what my necessity is yet but that is okay. I believe it will come to me eventually. So for now, I simply love to romanticize academia. I like to imagine the: earthy tones of the universities archways, cobblestone paths, laboratories with clean Erlenmeyer flasks, beakers, pristine white lab coats, bunsen burner flames changing colors as different salts are added, Bromothymol Blue pen stains, elegant calculations inside a worn leather-bound notebook, formulas scrawled over the blackboard, forgotten cold Irish breakfast tea on the desk, academics discussing theories, applause from a successful experiment, gray rainy days spent inside the lab, Whitman, Hemingway, et Sir Arthur Conon Doyle being read during break, intellectual conversations with professors, chemistry reports being written, molecular models built, volumes of ancient words, fire slowly burning in the stone fireplace, trying to understand, looking at the constellations on a clear night in the astronomy tower, reciting poetry, Tchaikovsky playing whilst completing a long lab report on Lê Chatelier’s theory of Equilibrium, curious minds, sleepless evenings in the library, beautiful anatomical illustrations...Just imagining these things motivate and inspire me to continue my path. Though it may seem superficial, it awakens something inside me. I yearn and I pine to become a Chemistry Romantic. 

I want to conclude this letter by saying that pupils and educators keep ideals alive and can change them accordingly as well. We have the power to become excellent professionals or simply exist and do nothing for the human race. But if you plan on becoming a physician or educator, you must find the trigger which brings your passion to life, your necessity. Once you find that, you are guaranteed greatness and fulfillment. However, do not rush. Perfection takes time. A couple of obstacles should not hinder you from persevering. Many will tell you to give up but do not. That is the Universe testing you. Do your best until you master the topic. Once you know better, you are then able to do better. 

Regards,

Confessions from a Chemistry Academic

[mygalfriday]

you heard it from those other boys but this time it’s real (River/12)

Prompt #4: Double Date

Technically, this might be her fault but as a self-proclaimed psychopath River hardly possesses a conscience that needs to own her every mistake. And she certainly has no intention of claiming responsibility for this one. She fully intends to blame Hydroflax.

Finally settled in their brand new flat, she and the Doctor had decided to have a bit of fun playing hosts for the evening. Acting as a normal married couple who throw dinner parties and play board games had seemed like a laugh. The problem, of course, was that they didn’t know anyone on Darillium to invite. It had only been a few weeks and they’d spent most of that time christening every available surface of the flat. Neither of them had been inclined to get dressed and meet their neighbors.

The only two people they know happen to share a single body. The Doctor had been adamantly opposed to having one of her former husbands as a dinner guest and River, relishing his jealous scowl, had relented quite quickly. So they had decided to invite Nardole round for dinner and proceeded to bicker over the menu and the wine until they actually felt like an ordinary couple with ordinary problems. Of course, they’d made up immediately – impossible to stay angry when you’re both grinning at each other like idiots.

Eventually, they’d decided River would make the appetizers, the Doctor would make the main course, and they’d make dessert together. The Doctor hadn’t even blushed when she’d made a filthy joke about it. He’d only looked at her with exasperated affection and kissed her quiet. A girl could get used to that sort of domesticity.

While technically the robot body Nardole now inhabits doesn’t need to eat, its system does have the ability to convert food into energy to help maintain the electrical charge. River had spent a good hour convincing the Doctor that cracking open their dinner guest to study this phenomenon would be in poor taste. When the day in question actually arrived, things went surprisingly well. River actually made her appetizers instead of popping out somewhere and stealing them; the Doctor didn’t explode the kitchen while making the beef bourguignon; and Nardole was an excellent first guest.

The problem appeared during the main course. One moment Nardole had been licking the gravy off his spoon and praising the buttery garlic of the mushrooms while the Doctor leered at her smugly, and the next he’d simply dropped his spoon and powered down, his head drooping against his metal shoulder.

River looks to the Doctor, frowning. “Should we be worried?”

He shakes his head, his brow furrowed and his fingers tapping idly against the table. “Don’t think so,” he says, eyeing Nardole like the exact opposite might be true. “Lots of people eat too much and need to nap.”

“Not midsentence. And he’s not people, darling,” she sighs. “He’s a robot.”

Before he can reply, Nardole’s head begins to disappear – sinking into the confines of his metal body. River can only watch in helpless fascination, like a pedestrian witnessing a car crash, as Ramone appears in his place. He yawns widely, as though he’d been interrupted mid-nap, and blinks as he takes stock of his surroundings. When he sees River, he breaks into that big grin that had endeared him to her the first time they met. “Hello you.”

River darts a glance at the Doctor, who looks too bewildered by this turn of events to even be properly annoyed about it. “Hello Ramone. Everything alright?”

“I think so.” He squints, as though taking stock of himself. “Nardole ate too much.”

She pointedly ignores the Doctor’s terribly unsubtle gloating. Gesturing to the spread before them, she asks, “Hungry?”

“I could eat.” He looks down at his plate, brows lifting. “Is this for me?”

Pasting on a smile, River nods. “Yes. Of course.”

Finally seeming to realize he’s about to have dinner with his wife and her ex-husband, the Doctor shifts uneasily in his chair. His right eye twitches.

“Oh, how nice.” Ramone leans forward, inhaling deeply. “Whatever it is, it smells delicious.”

“Beef bourguignon.” She bites back a smirk, glancing at her husband. “The Doctor made it.”

“Did you really?” Ramone shovels a generous bite into his mouth and groans, eyes falling shut. “It’s very good.”

The Doctor’s grip around his fork tightens and for a moment River wonders if she’s about to have the privilege of witnessing her two-thousand-year-old husband start a food fight. At last, he sighs through his nose and loosens his white-knuckled grip on the poor cutlery. “It’s River’s favorite,” he grumbles, “So I learned to make it.” His eyes narrow and he stares pointedly at Ramone as he adds, “Because I’m her husband.”

River rolls her eyes and reaches for the pinot noir.

Undeterred, the Doctor presses, “We’ve been married for centuries. In multiple universes. Did she tell you that?”

“Hmm? I think she mentioned it.” Too engrossed in his food, Ramone doesn’t appear to notice the Doctor’s annoyance despite his complete lack of subtlety. It’s part of the reason River had gotten so annoyed and erased his memory; he’s such a dear, dense thing. If only he weren’t so damn pretty.

Helping himself to a glass of wine Nardole hadn’t finished, Ramone turns his attention back to River. “I like the new flat,” he says, smiling at her. “How are you enjoying your stay so far?”

And thus begins the most awkward evening of her life. Considering the length of her life, tonight ranks pretty high on a fairly substantial list of terrible evenings. She makes polite conversation with her ex, telling him about the new furniture she and her husband just ordered from the next planet over and how offensively high the shipping cost had been. They discuss mutual friends and reminisce about previous adventures, all while the Doctor stews in silence, scowling at his plate. River keeps her hand on his thigh under the table, squeezing every now and then just to see him twitch.

After what seems like hours, dinner finally comes to an end. Ramone wipes his mouth on a napkin and pats his metal belly. “So, what’s for dessert?”

River opens her mouth, already smirking, but the Doctor cuts her off with a glare. “There is no dessert,” he says firmly. “At least not any you’ll be getting.”

“Spoilsport,” River murmurs, ignoring Ramone’s puzzled glance. She pushes aside what’s left of her wine and conjures up her most charming smile. “Actually, I think we’ll call it an early night, if you don’t mind. The Doctor has a headache.” She tips her head, nose wrinkling. “Or he’s about to, at least.”

“Erm. Yes.” The Doctor quirks an eyebrow at her, his leg shifting under her palm. “There’s definitely some throbbing.”

She nearly chokes, smothering her surprised laughter in a strangled cough that makes her eyes water. The Doctor grins shamelessly at her, looking triumphant and smug in a way she absolutely shouldn’t find sexy. She really does anyway.

“Right,” Ramone says, eyeing them strangely. After a moment, he seems to give a mental shrug before pushing back his chair. His metal body clicks and whirrs as he rises, suddenly towering over them both. “Thanks for dinner. It was lovely.”

River presses her lips together, still far too amused to manage speech.

The Doctor, damn him, looks cheerful for the first time all evening. “Our pleasure.”

Together, they walk Ramone to the door and see him off, waving in the doorway until he disappears down the corridor with clunky steps. The moment they shut the door behind him, the Doctor dissolves into laughter. Helpless but to join in, River tugs him in by the collar of his shirt and presses her giggling mouth to his cheek. “You jealous idiot,” she laughs. “He’s no one, you know. Just a bit of fun.”

He huffs. “We’re fun.”

“We are,” she promises, swaying into his chest. She tips back her head and meets his soft gaze. With a sigh still bubbling with laughter, she admits, “We’re… everything.”

The Doctor dips his head and kisses her – a bit rougher than normal, just possessive enough to make her shudder. Nipping at her lip as he pulls away, he nudges his nose against hers and whispers, “Dessert?”

River grins, slipping her arms around his neck. “I’ll clear the table.”