#left on seen!! gorg okay!

[n00n3h3r3]

and im s t i l l gonna end today feeling like i did something wrong!! holy fuck!!

[exopelagic]

okay I severely misjudged spaghetti guy he’s actually just really cool

[bellysfromthefarside]

6 of 7 - Burger King Remake - “My….belly ….is…. so…. bowed…. out!”

At this rate of stuffing, it didn’t take long for all of the burgers to disappear. Mr. Cleberg placed his hand on the mountain of belly before him and said, “Now, that’s a good job of eatin’. I knew I’d be able to get rid of all of the burgers!” Mr. Cleberg turned away from Travis and picked up the now empty tray. He then left the end of the trailer and went back to the preparation area to clean off the tray and put it away. Tommy looked at the hugely bloated young man lying still on the makeshift bed. Travis’ face was bright red and he was moaning after the vigorous belly stuffing he had just endured. The burger swollen gut was obscenely rounded and bulged in every direction. “You look like a pregnant horse,” Tommy suggested as he began to gently pat the top of Travis’ belly, “I ain’t never seen a dude’s belly stick up so far!” “My….gut’s…. gonna….explode!” Travis struggled to say and then put his hands on the sides of his ridiculously protruding belly balloon, “My….belly ….is…. so…. bowed…. out!” “Man, you’re gut’s so much bigger than a beach ball. And your skin is all stretched out and shit…I don’t think anything could be more stuffed than your gut is now!” “The….pressure….is…. so…much…I…can…barely… breath,” Travis noted and started gently rubbing his huge stomach with both hands. Cleberg walked into the back of the trailer. “OK, boys, its time to go. We’re ready to let the inspectors check out the place.” Travis tried to lift his much heavier body off the makeshift bed, and was not able to do so. Tommy and Cleberg had to help the burger blimp up and into a standing position. For several seconds, Travis stood in the middle of the room, slowly rocking back and forth as he tried to establish balance. “Dude, you’re so front heavy,” Tommy said, watching Travis try to steady himself, “Its a wonder you don’t fall forward!” “Okay guys, here’s the plan. I’m going outside now and meet the inspectors. You two come out a minute or so after I do,” Mr. Cleberg described, then continued, “Then we’ll let them come inside here and look around. They won’t find any burgers in here.” Cleberg laughed and patted the huge burger storage facility that Travis had become as he walked away. Tommy carefully studied the incredibly gorged young man, still trying to steady himself. Travis had to lean way back to support the huge gut he was now sporting. His muscular upper body still looked like it belonged to a competitive athlete, but the amazingly rounded belly seemed more appropriate on a overfed hippo. “So, how does it feel,” Tommy asked, placing his hand on the ballooned gut, “You’re fuckin’ gigantic!” “I…feel…like…like…the Goodyear blimp has been inflated inside my stomach,” Travis looked down at the enormous round protrusion, “The pressure is fuckin’ unbelievable!’ Tommy realized it had been a couple of minutes since Cleberg left. “We’d better head out,” he suggested, “Are you gonna make it?” Travis put both hands on the side of his over-inflated belly and began to slowly steer it towards the door. “Yeah, I think I’ll make it okay.” Tommy was the first out the door and down the short set of metal stairs. He took a few steps over to where Cleberg was standing and turned back to check on the progress of Travis. An amazing site greeted Tommy as he looked back. Travis was trying to act casual as he strode down the stairs, arching his back to support the incredible weight of his belly. He had put on his ball cap and a pair of sunglasses, trying to look cool while still displaying the larger-than-keg sized belly that proceeded him. His boots were loud on the metal steps, then on the concrete as he slowed strutted/waddled over to where Tommy was standing. Before Travis could say anything, two middle aged men in dark suits and sunglasses seemed to appear from nowhere. They spoke briefly with Cleberg then went into the trailer. Each one gave Travis a second look as they went past.

Source

Travis final belly shots, as he staggers out the Burger van, coming soon!!

See you rounder! Tom

[aheathen-conceivably]

Violette ran through the farmyard, disappointed that her father's attentions had been pulled elsewhere, when she found Will looking out over the gorge where they liked to play cops and robbers when the adults weren't looking. Before he could even notice her, she had scurried up the fence that protected the horses from falling into the pit below. As she pirouetted and walked along the uneven wooden barrier Will looked up in horror, “Violette! Get down! I told you my Poppa doesn't let us up there. Its not safe!”

Her voice called out from above, echoing off the orange rocks without a hint of fear, “Oh what, are you scaaaaared?”

As though to punctuate her words, she spun her arms around like windmills, letting her balance pull her back and forth like she was going to fall. William let out a small yelp and she leaned toward the left, as though she were falling into the shallow rushing water below. Even the birds flew away at his cry, like they were preparing to swoop after her into the valley to see if she would ever stand against the blue skies with them again.

Instead she caught herself at the last minute, jumping off of the beam and landing delicately on her toes beside William. She greeted his shocked expression with a small bow and triumphant smile.

With two feet safely on the ground, Violette let out a loud laugh, “Oh, don’t be a baby, Will! It’s not my fault you fall for it every time!” She stopped to stick out her tongue at him, “You’re so gullible!”

He crossed his arms and began to sulk away, “I am not! And one time you’re gunna fall for real and I’ll be right!”

She ran after him, still laughing but in a much more gentle way this time, “I’ll never fall! Look!” Once she had his full attention, Violette stood on the very tips of her feet, holding her balance until they went numb and any child with less willpower would have dropped back down. His eyes went wide in amazement but then her heels hit the sand below and he seemed to remember why he was angry with her, “I’ve seen that, Lottie!”

He sulked away again, sinking into the desert flowers in a huff. She stared at him with his head on his knees and suddenly felt a guilty pang, “I know, I’m sorry. We can play cops and robbers now.”

Still he didn’t answer, so she bent amongst the flowers and picked a handful for him. He took them from her outstretched hand and moved slightly for her to sit near him. She leaned onto his arm, trying to nudge out what was bothering him the way she knew she could. He looked up, back toward the fence where she had been walking moments before, "You’re so brave, Lottie, you know that? I been thinkin’ and—and I shoulda said something when Billy was mean to you.”

She grabbed the flower away from him and brought it to her lips, blowing the petals on the breeze before she laid it back on the ground and spoke, “That’s okay. I can stand up for myself. I know you’re my friend.”

“But…doesn’t it bother you? You know, when they ask about your parents…about the way you look and the way you talk?”

Violette absentmindedly laid onto the sand, drawing circles with her finger as her mind raced. Ever since she had put Billy in his place, no one had said anything so blatant to her; but she knew some of them went home to tell their parents or whisper about her behind her back. It was the same thing that happened on the street sometimes, every time someone assumed her Aunt Jo was her mother or gave her parents a dirty look.

She didn’t really know how to explain that it did bother her, because she didn’t fully understand their disdain. Still a small feeling of anger rose up for their glares and questions, the ones that made her feel like her very existence was somehow an affront to them. But she wasn’t going to tell William that, or anyone for that matter. 

So instead she began to adopt a sense of self-assured bravado, which became more real with every feigned response. She sat up and scoffed, answering Will’s question as though it were the silliest thing in the world, “Why would it bother me? That’s their problem. Not mine.”

Then she righted her shoulders and donned a smile, “So are we gunna okay cops and robbers now or are you still a big scaaaaredy-cat?”

Whatever remaining worries they had were forgotten as she ran into the distance, giving herself a head start before she mounted an invisible horse and swirled her lasso in the air. He jumped to his feet and placed an imaginary cowboy head atop his head to don the guise of the cop, chasing an outlaw across the open desert just like they did in olden days.

[theheroheart]

Rogue got delivered a day early.

Gonna put a whole bunch of quotes and observations and things under the cut, very Rogue focused.

SPOILERS, OBVIOUSLY.

Also I will say, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE buy this book, it absolutely deserves it, I adored it. It was wonderful and gave us SO MUCH.

Rogue's former partner is a he, and he's Rogue's boyfriend. His name is Art, which is indeed short for Artificer (reference to D&D). And Art is confirmed dead at this point, and has been for 5 years. Rogue and Art were together for 10 years.

Rogue jumps off a building at some point, knowing Art will save him.

Art was tall with shoulder-length curly hair and wore a sleek purple tunic, rolled up at the sleeves. On top of this was a metallic chest-piece that crackled with electrical energy. On his head he wore a pair of steampunk goggles that complemented his hazel eyes. As he pulled on the net, a long grey scar could be seen on his arm, a memory from a battle lost years before. As the net neared the ship, Rogue smiled up apologetically at Art. But judging by the icy look he got back, well - he couldn't smile his way out of this one.

Rogue doesn't like parties. Partly because he prefers "a good night in". (Though Rogue cannot cook, lmao.) And partly because while "watching the wealthy gorge themselves" he knew "most of the population was living in abject poverty." Rogue says eat the rich.

It was an odd feeling to think that nights like that wouldn't be on the cards for Rogue and hadn't been in fact for a long time. It's strange, the shape time takes when you lose someone. One morning they are next to you, on their pillow, and the next morning you realise they haven't been sleeping there for nearly five years. The five years had gone by slowly and quickly, all at once, Rogue's bounties all blending into one another. It wasn't that Rogue hadn't continued to live, or even to love a little bit. But when you felt you'd lived through the main event of your life, everything else - that extra bit of life you found yourself wandering through - was a bit like an epilogue. Rogue would walk the ship, each night, inspecting every weathered part. A fading heartbeat of a life once lived. He could no longer think about that day. That time. He felt more ghost than man at this point. That was why it was so surprising when Rogue gazed down at the ballroom below and suddenly found himself transfixed. There was a man in the middle of that dancefloor. A gorgeous man. But this wasn't just shallow attraction. There was an energy to the man. An unfiltered joy. Something Rogue instantly knew he wanted to be close to.

There's minor dialogue changes, as there usually are.

'You know, I can help you,' the man went on. 'Trouble, I am good at.' It was then that Rogue emotionally left his body and starting panicking a good 50 feet above the scene playout out below. Was this man handsome? Yes. Was there a bit of chemistry here? Yes. Did the man smell surprisingly nice for someone from 1813? Absolutely.

Instead of going outside, Rogue and the Doctor get punch and actually chat together.

Rogue recognised her as the woman the Doctor had been spinning joyfully across the dancefloor. "You okay?" the Doctor said, concerned. "Yeah. Just, avoiding engagement." She noticed Rogue. "So you found a scandal, then?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her as if to say - you behave! - but she just laughed and rushed off down a corridor. Rogue watched it all play out, intrigued. So his dance partner does know him then. But how well? The Doctor turned back and looked into Rogue's eyes, apparently noticing his puzzled expression. "Don't trouble yourself, love; she won't need me till there's screaming, or smoke, or both. Or Goblins. Right now, I'm all yours." Rogue nodded. Okay, Goblins - interesting - but the Doctor could just be a fan of fairytales.

Rogue imagines conversations with Art sometimes, and in this case, Art is encouraging Rogue to flirt with the Doctor. "The fantastical joy of dead boyfriend imagination theatre."

Usually, the imaginary conversations Rogue had with him were when he was alone in the ship but in moments of crisis sometimes, he would imagine him, a life raft in a sea of social interaction nightmares. "Would you let go, for a second. Flirt back. Ask him about his favourite paintings, the wonders of the universe." Rogue looked at Art. "He's from 1813." Art laughed. "Okay, well ask him about the wonders of lawn bowls then, who cares." Rogue sighed. "It was always so easy with you. Why can't it be easy with anyone else?" Art gave him a knowing smile. "You gotta be willing to let it be easy." He gestured back to the Doctor. "Now, come on, you can't just bat your pretty eyes at him." Rogue looked at Art and batted his eyes. "Oh, I absolutely can." "What are you blinking at?" the Doctor asked, intrigued, and Rogue found himself snapped out of his daydream and back into reality. Rogue apologised. "Sorry. A ghost."

The Doctor continued to sip. "You know, I think it's kiwi. No, they aren't here for another century. So what are the green bits?" Immediately, Rogue let go of his fleeting feelings of enjoyment and replaced them with cold resolve. How could the Doctor know something like that? He talked about the present and future like they were all the same to him. No, Rogue had found his bounty and it was time to get back to work. The manor was too busy, too full of guests. He needed a safer place to capture him. Somewhere he could get him alone. "Why don't we continue this conversation in the garden?" Rogue said, a flicker of mischievousness in his eyes. The Doctor laughed. "Fast mover, let's go."

The dialogue confirms again and again that they are SO FUCKING THIRSTY FOR EACH OTHER THE ENTIRE TIME. Besties, please.

He looked back at Rogue, walking, brooding (of course), and had to remind himself that this was an interrogation, not a date. "I love these old skies. Ripe with constellations being found and named." He gestured above, pointing out his favourite constellations. "The bear, the ram ... the poop-deck." "The romance of the night sky," Rogue replied sardonically as he gave the Doctor an oh really look. That stare of his. The Doctor laughed. "Don't blame me! De Lacaille chose them! Great astronomer, bad with names." Then he smiled cheekily. "But if it's romance you're after? He also named those stars there the pump, the chisel, and Norma." Okay, he was flirting now. Ruby would be furious with him if this silly side quest was what got him killed. "Not what I'm after," replied Rogue, his tone back to matter-of-fact but his face blushing a little.

Rogue made the gun himself!

"Keep moving," Rogue replied languidly. Another day at the office for this guy. The Doctor turned his head back to check on the glowing chamber of the blaster. "Is that a glo-stick?" He knew he had said something good because he got the biggest reaction from Rogue yet, hearing him grunt then look immediately offended. "Glo-stick? I made this!" Rogue bit back. Okay, we have an ego here and apparently an inventor, thought the Doctor. That's- "Cute," he said, which only spurred on Rogue. "It's not cute, it's a disseminator. It's very complicated." "Like its owner." The Doctor grinned. He figured if he was going to get killed, he might as well enjoy himself.

Their ship is named the Yossarian.

You can tell a lot about a person by the ship they fly in, thought the Doctor. It's home away from home. Which explained why he was shaken by what he say. Granted, he had made some assumptions about Rogue, but this dimly lit and cluttered space was not what he had expected. It was an absolute mishmash of tech, half-made projects, tools and strange-looking things in piles or cages. It looked and smelt like a mechanic's workshop. In the corner was a cockpit for flying, pretty much hidden behind a stack of metal toolboxes and a hammock slung in the corner, he assumed for sleeping but perhaps eating as well? Oh, Rogue, he thought. What happened, love?

The mess aside, the make of the ship did not surprise. It was an old asteroid hawk from the 50-56, often sold on the cheap in many star systems. In anyone's ship was a shed, this was the one. He looked across the console, trying to see if there might be anything useful to help him escape or at the very least steer the conversation towards suggesting Rogue should get a broom. [...] On the console was an Ood translation sphere, plugged into the ship's controls. It would allow Rogue to understand the local languages wherever he travelled, but the Doctor's attention was taken more by the can of unfinished Gurgle balanced dangerously on top. It was a dusty can. Left there a long time ago.

The spaceship scene is very similar, just tiny differences. Although it confirmed that the Doctor has played D&D, specifically with the Paternoster gang, and that Strax played a bard with a beautiful singing voice.

The Doctor also thinks about Fourteen, thinking that he likes him and hopes he's living his best life right now.

Different past selves of the Doctor, different genders and ages, all projected on top of his current form. Right now, standing in the middle of the Yossarian, he was revealing his true heart. His power. His strength. His undeniable wonder. The Doctor looked from the scan back at Rogue, right in the eye. "I am not a Chuldur. I am something much older and far more powerful. I am a Lord of Time from the lost and fallen planet of Gallifrey." He took a deep breath. "Now, let me go, Bounty Hunter. We have work to do." Rogue just started in awe, taking in the Doctor, all of them. "You're beautiful," he said.

And then you get a long lovely flashback to Art and Rogue having a romantic dinner. (And I would just like to say that I 100% called the Artificer thing.)

"You are so stubborn!" Art said, lowering his spoon. "I told you not to put more chilli powder in, yet here we are." Rogue laughed. "Look, I tried really hard to make us this terrible meal." "Now, hold the phone, I did not say this was terrible, I just said you deliberately ignored my advice." "Unwanted advice," Rogue replied. As he took another mouthful, a tear started to form in his eye. The stew was too hot, but he was never going to let Art know that. "I can see you crying," Art said. "There's a literal tear, rolling down your face." Rogue looked at him, faux dramatic. "I'm just feeling really emotional about my chair over there, that you still haven't fixed. Art laughed. "Oh it's your chair now, is it?" Rogue smiled and wiped away the tear he had pretended was not there with his sleeve. He continued to look around the ship, at the home he and Art had made together. Art had built everything on the Yossarian and nearly every gadget Rogue used on the missions. The emphasis on 'nearly' was because Rogue had foolishly attempted to build a few of his own. It was a learning curve for him. A steep one. Where Rogue had charm in spades, Art had a talent for turning a kitchen spoon into a deadly laser ray. He could do anything. The name Art had also come from Dungeons & Dragons, a shared pastime and passion between them both. Art was short for Artificer; this was a class in the game known for their invention and incredible ability to see the full potential in objects, and it suited Art to a tee. Rogue could never pin down exactly when the nicknames had started. Like so many things when you've been with someone for a very long time, it had begun as a cute reference, but then the nicknames just became everyday for them until, eventually, the old names just didn't fit any more. They were just Rogue and Art to each other. And that suited them both fine.

"You know, I could go undercover next time," Art said. "Oh yeah," Rogue said playfully. "Last time we tried that, you gave someone our actual contact details." "We got on! An alias shouldn't prevent an actual friendship." Rogue nodded. He got up, went round the console and put his arms around Art, nuzzling into his shoulder. "I guess it's how I met you," he said, and the pair of them laughed. Art smelt like a warm fire. He was taller than Rogue, only by a bit, but it meant he looked up to him slightly, which was a bit of a novelty for Rogue, who was usually the tallest in the room. He took in Art's face: every line, pore, the stubble, the striking, hazel eyes. Art looked back down at Rogue, and it looked as if he was about to say something deeply profound or romantic. "So, is this your apology for dinner?" Rogue leant in closer. "Oh, never," he murmured.

Oh also, Rogue hadn't meant to give the Doctor that name.

"Does 'not a Lord' have a name?" "Rogue." Immediately, Rogue panicked. It wasn't his actual name - Rogue was the name that Art had given him - but it would do fine. For now. [.....] "You ready for this, Rogue?" It was funny hearing someone else call him that, but his name sounded good being said by the Doctor. Rogue liked it. It fitted.

Also Rogue "immediately recalled a quite complicated winter with Houdini". Apparently him and the Doctor has an ex in common.

They explain what happened to the gun.

"Now, trap, please." Rogue handed it over but immediately regretted doing this so willingly. Sure, this man's ship was brilliant. But the trap, that was his. "And your disseminator?" "Only if you handle it carefully," said Rogue, keeping his eyes locked on the Doctor, worried what the plan could be for his precious creation. The Doctor took it calmly. Then he snapped the disseminator in half. "Hey!" Rogue shouted. "Do you want to save everyone or not? Look, watch me." And Rogue did, as the Doctor moved some parts from the disseminator into Rogue's trap, then attached it to the TARDIS, using cables. Rogue found himself fighting not to remember the hours of work that building the disseminator had taken. He had to let this go. "Okay, past me the hyperdyne link," said the Doctor. "Blue wire, under the switch, there." Rogue did as he was told, eager to see exactly what new monstrosity the Doctor had turned his favourite gadget into. The Doctor grabbed the cable and plugged it into the newly upgraded trap. It sizzled slightly. "I can't believe you broke my stuff!" Rogue complained. The Doctor stopped what he was doing and looked at him, dead serious. "Whatever the Chuldur have done, I can't let you kill them. I also can't let them kill others. So, instead, we'll send them to a random, barren dimension. No one to hurt there and no way back." "Random? So I can't trace them," Rogue protested. The Doctor just nodded as the trap continued to whirr behind them. "Don't pout too much. When we're not trying to kill each other, we're a good team."

"You know, you don't have to stay a bounty hunter. You could travel with me. Oh the worlds I could show you, Rogue." "And what if I like what I do?" Rogue got the feeling that when people met the Doctor, they would often uproot everything for him. Why should that always be the case? Rogue had just as much to offer in adventure.

"I'd like that." Rogue felt that swell in his chest, that nervous energy as he took another step towards him. He was very aware that their faces were almost touching. It would only take one of them to lean in a bit closer, and they were already so close, so close that they could almost-- Ping! The console in the TARDIS chimed. "The trap is ready," the Doctor said, and the moment was gone. He moved back to the console as Rogue stood there, recovering. He could hear the Doctor speaking down at the console, but he barely registered what he was saying. He just nodded, lost. What was he getting himself into?

And then I went ahead and typed up the entire chapter 19, because the whole thing is an imaginary letter from Art to Rogue.

Chapter 19 A Letter to Rogue Dear Rogue It feels silly, writing you this letter, but I hope it finds you. So we're clear too, I don't want this as a Please don't mourn for me or some other such nonsense. Honestly, I am quite irritated that it wasn't you that died... Would I say that? I suppose. Whatever helps your imagination. I know you've likely dreamt up and read this letter many times. I fully understand why; I was good chat. However, if only for your negotiation skills, I hope you've made at least one friend since my passing. Imaginary letters from dead boyfriends can't be your only form of communication. Of course, if the person reading this is his only friend then I gleefully warn you: Rogue is stubborn. He says he will clean that particular corner of the ship, but I promise you he won't. I spent ten years asking and I could have put that time into something actually productive. I could have learned at least five more languages in the time I would have saved. So take my advice. Give in to this reality. Admit defeat. It will never happen. A few other things to note: his snoring can and will wake up the most dangerous animals, and for some reason - despite eating pretty much everything - bread with any kind of seeds or olives in is an absolute no. I agree, it's a real failing on his part. Apart from this, however, what you will find is a great man who I loved with every part of my soul. Please give him a hug from me and do not name a child or dog in my memory when you move in together. A cactus is fine, though. And Rogue, if it is you reading this letter, don't let me worry about you. I did enough of that when I was around and oh, the time I wasted. Don't hide. And please don't go fixing up our ship for ever. I was the mechanic anyway. Live. Talk with everyone. Laugh. Dare to ask someone, 'Is this seat taken?' And, most importantly, don't forget to dance. That's the best part. Yours, Art

So anyway, after that heartbreak, it's back to more action.

"Should we be telling humans?" Rogue asked cautiously, leaning in behind him. The Doctor noticed Ruby's curious expression. "Oh! Ruby 2024 and Emily 1813, this is Rogue, he's a bounty hunter and almost incinerated me." "A mistake he said he was letting go of." Rogue held out his hand to Ruby and Emily, who both went for it at the same time and ended up shaking it together.

"But what does it all mean?" Emily gasped. "Are we all going to die?" The Doctor and Ruby exchanged a look: Who is going to take this? To their surprise, Rogue stepped up. "There's a creature from another planet at this party," he said. "Highly dangerous, it can look like anyone it's killed and if it gets you ---" He looked at her, dead serious. "It'll drain your life in a second." Emily's eyes widened and she hurriedly began to fan herself, presumably as an alternative to fainting. "We need to work on your people skills," the Doctor said as Ruby put her arm around Emily, trying to calm her. "Now, let's find our Duchess!" He looked over at Rogue, exhilarated. This was one hell of a first date.

The Doctor could already feel people starting to turn and whisper but his focus wasn't on that. All he was thinking about was Rogue. Rogue's hand on his shoulder, his chest. Rogue's eyes locked with his as the pair of them turned and twirled across the floor.

"We need to have a big fight so I can storm off alone and draw her to us," the Doctor said, spinning Rogue away from him. "Can't I storm off alone?" said Rogue. "I would rather not talk in front of this many people." "Oh, come on, Rogue," said the Doctor. "I'm sure you talk to lots of people. Your bounties for a start." He gave his hand a little squeeze and whispered, "I believe in you." "Doctor, please!" Rogue protested. He was too late. The Doctor pulled away from him and gasped. "How dare you, my Lord!" he shouted. He was incredibly pleased to hear the music stop immediately, the crowd turning to stare. It was so deliciously dramatic. "You would ask me to give up my title, my fortune -" he chewed up every word, really hamming it up - "but what future can you promise me?" Rogue didn't say a word back. He just looked at him pleadingly and stuttered slightly. "Say anything," the Doctor whispered, then raised his voice again. "Tell me what your heart wants, or I shall turn my back on you for ever." By way of illustration, he literally did turn his back on Rogue. He looked at the crowd, hearing nothing but silence behind him. Then a gasp. The Doctor turned and faced Rogue again, who was now down on one knee. He had pulled off a ring from his finger and was holding it up to him. Rogue was proposing. Fast mover indeed. The Doctor knew this was a moment of fun, for the drama. Despite that, he couldn't stop a jolt of panic. "Sorry... I can't," the Doctor said. He raced out of the ballroom, and Rogue chased after him.

The worlds I could show you. That's what the Doctor had said to him in the TARDIS. A phrase that was playing over and over in his head. Rogue looked over and saw the Doctor, waiting for him, hidden behind a hedge. He felt a rush of excitement as he tried to focus. He'd not been asking the Doctor for marriage, but for some simple commitment. A sign he could stay longer than this one adventure. To see those worlds he'd promised. At least for a little while. Now he couldn't stop wondering how much of their connection was real and how much had been for show.

To escape the Chuldur, Rogue and the Doctor dive into the lake, where Rogue finds the body of the real Lord Barton. He almost panics and has to go back up, but the Doctor takes his hand and calms him down, so they can stay hidden long enough.

They get out of the lake soaking wet, and the Doctor makes a comment about "Ruby was right, this is a bit Mr. Darcy."

Then there's a wonderful additional scene, where Rogue is initially refusing to help because it's too dangerous, and he's too scared after having lost Art.

He had expected one Chuldur, that was the contract. Not a family. He'd counted at least five. These were very bad odds. "I'm not being paid enough for this." "Paid or not, people have died." The Doctor had his sonic screwdriver out and he was fiddling with the waterlogged trap while they walked. Rogue thought he was as focused on fixing machines as Art had been. Annoyingly, both of them had the ability to do that and argue at the same time. "We go back there, we'll die," Rogue insisted. "So you'll just walk away?" Rogue stopped.

Rogue had read about family of Chuldur. One that had destroyed every place it visited, leaving no survivors. In the past, he would have dived headlong into this kind of danger without batting an eyelid. He loved the rush of adrenalin and he had that stubborn will to reach his target, whatever it took. Then he had suffered the cost. The Doctor was wrong. He wouldn't just walk away from all this. He'd run. "There's too many. It's not my problem." Rogue quickened his pace away from the manor and towards the Yossarian. This time, the Doctor did not follow him. He had stopped still, determined not to take another step. Rogue reluctantly stopped too and turned back to face him. "If it's not our problem, whose is it?" The Doctor's voice was cold, angry. "Who do you think will help these people if we don't? You're here. You've seen what they're doing. You are choosing not to care." In the dark garden, Rogue stood defiantly across from the Doctor, his breath shallow and fast. He'd hit a nerve. Rogue had had years of practice at not caring and didn't want to change now. The Doctor was calm in comparison, determined and immovable. Rogue knew that if he chose to walk away now, he would be walking away alone.

Rogue agrees to help, but is still scared and trying to convince the Doctor to leave with him, and WEEHH GUYS.

The Doctor was about to clamber through when Rogue reached for his hand. "Are you sure?" Rogue asked, his voice soft. They were facing beings that had destroyed cities, taken countless lives. How could the two of them stop such creatures? And with one shot? He felt a deep ache in his chest; he couldn't lose someone else. Rogue looked pleadingly at the Doctor. If he gave himself enough time and distance, he could learn to forget his troubles and bury his guilt. He could stop himself from caring. Rogue had done it before. He could do it again. He could show the Doctor how. "We could go anywhere," he said. "I'm going in here," replied the Doctor. Not a waver in his voice, not a second of doubt. Rogue looked into the Doctor's eyes and knew that he would never stop caring. Could never stop wanting to help, to fight, to go on. That was who he was. The Doctor let go of Rogue's hand and climbed in through the window, and Rogue did what he knew he would do for ever. Follow him.

Absolutely unhinged content, thanks Kate and Briony. Rogue wanting to leave makes his ultimate sacrifice SO MUCH MORE INTENSE.

When the Doctor finds out about Ruby, he almost lunges himself at the Chuldur, and Rogue has to pull him back so they can remain hidden.

And then, absolutely heartbreakingly, as the Doctor tries to find some other solution for maybe bringing Ruby back:

He was desperate, and Rogue's silence gave him every answer he didn't want. Rogue slowly opened his arms, and the Doctor fell into them and sobbed. "I'm sorry," Rogue said over and over.

The Doctor absolutely hams his speech up, and there's a minor change as Rogue is there to help him set up the triform trap. (Emily, like a fool, just accidentally walks straight into the trap!)

And then we reach the final sacrifice.

Seven… Rogue didn't want to push him, but they were running out of time. "They'll kill us, then everyone here. They'll destroy this world.' Six… Rogue was next to the Doctor now. He could hear him breathing hard. "And you know that, you absolutely know that." All that torment was wrapped so tight around his chest that Rogue could feel his heaviness, his dread. "So, can you do it? Can you lose your friend to save the world?" Five… The Doctor started to cry. "No." "I know." Rogue smiled at the kind, brilliant, amazing man in front of him. Four… Then he stepped forward and wrapped the Doctor in his arms and kissed him. It was a soft, passionate kiss, full of promise. The moment was tender. Romantic. It was theirs. Three… Rogue stepped back and gave the Doctor one last smile, revealing he had taken the trigger device from him. Then he turned quickly and ran full pelt into the trap. Two… It flicked on and off as the Chuldur tried to scramble to the edges. Emily moved a step towards Ruby, grabbing at her as Rogue barrelled in. He knocked Emily to the trap floor, causing Ruby to be thrown free. Only one shoe left behind. One… Rogue looked down at his feet inside the glowing triangle and back up to the Doctor. He was now trapped with the Chuldur, but he was not afraid. Rogue could not have let the Doctor say goodbye to the person he was closest to. He knew that pain too well to let the Doctor hold it, even for a second. And so he'd known the decision he had to make. He couldn't lose anyone else. But he was ready to be the one who was lost. Zero. "Find me," Rogue said as he pressed send. The patch of triangular floor turned jet black, as the Chuldur started to scream and fall. Rogue caught a last glimpse of the Doctor before he dropped down into the darkness of the Transport Gate. As he fell, his mind had one, clear thought. Worth every second.

The rest goes about as it does in the episode. We don't get the Doctor's immediate reaction to the loss. But as Ruby hugs him, "The Doctor leant into it and let himself feel what he had buried for a moment. Not all of it but just enough to carry on with the day."

And then of course he discovers the ring in his pocket and he puts it on. "A little piece of Rogue to go with him."

And you'd think that would be the end, but there is ONE MORE CHAPTER, which I'm just gonna quote in its entirety, because it's insane, you guys.

Chapter 33 The Forgotten Place A howl in the darkness. The wind growled ferociously around a barren and abandoned planet, far out in the forgotten reaches of space. Giant grey rocks covered the surface. As the wind hit them, charcoal-sand blasted up, creating sandstorms wherever it hit. This was the only movement on the surface and, at first glance, it would have seemed the only sign of life. But if you looked more closely, there was a light. From the mouth of a cave, the bright glow of a campfire burned through the grey. Inside, sat a man. Rogue. He was trying to keep warm. Rogue had been there for what felt like months. The cave had been a saviour, sheltering him from the environment but also from the enemies sent here with him. He had lost them, at least for now. As time passed in the cave, any concept of a day had folded in on itself. Rogue kept his mind busy with the simple tasks of staying alive: build the fire, watch the fire, build the fire again. Rinse, repeat. Thankfully, there was some food to be found on this planet - mainly winged dalnats and other small cave-dwelling creatures. But they were not enough. Rogue knew that if the cold didn't get him, starvation would. What this planet didn't know, however, was that Rogue could not be broken so easily. He had made a promise to himself. He had agreed that he wasn't going to be lost any more. Because Rogue had realised he was worth finding. As the fire began to die, Rogue thought of the man he had come here for. The magnificent being who was beyond any comprehension of existence. The one known to most as the Doctor. Of all the timelines they could both have inhabited, Rogue was grateful that their eyes had met on this one. What a great surprise that had been from the universe. Yes, right now, he was lonely, but time wasn't linear, and this was his favourite thing about it. Rogue was sitting in this cave, but he was also walking with the Doctor in the garden, he was laughing with Art in the Yossarian, he was falling from a building, he was running from one memory of his life to another. All at once. Rogue was in the Doctor's arms, spinning around and around, for ever.

So there it is. Absolutely gorgeous book.

There's a bunch of stuff I didn't include, a bunch of extra stuff about the Chuldur. But also the first adventure with Art, and a bunch of extra minor stuff.

So please please do get the book if you can!

[britishsquidward]

Chelley Week 2024, Day 6: Heartbeart/AU

(AU being Blue Sky but the other way around, lol - Orange Sky)

Somehow it didn't immediately occur to him that Chell wasn't covered in all those silly little colours barricading him from viewing anything at all, and took to what he was best at: speaking his mind. "Is that you?" a moment passed where said nothing in favour of rubbing his stinging eyes, "Oh, wow, you look awf-" What he saw when he looked up again was certainly a sight to behold. One that stopped him talking, actually, so assuredly some kind of miracle. Or at least a world record. Right next to where he'd left the cold, lifeless shell of a core, stood the prettiest, most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire existence, and probably before that, if it were even possible. What little light was left in the room from the instructional video he'd left on standby hit her just perfectly, emphasising every delightful detail and feature. Her eyes were a fairly dull colour alone, but when she stood in the light like that, he'd never seen eyes shine brighter than hers, like two burningly beautiful stars sitauted in the middle of a stunning night sky. The sort of sky that you usually wouldn't pay half a mind to unless you really, truly looked and realised just how beguiling it was. Wheatley was having trouble focusing on one thing. Her skin looked soft and smooth, as did her hands - well-kept and taken care of, a contrast to his pale and damaged ones (he often found himself getting papercuts and getting too emotional over them, or being disappointed when his knuckles got all red and dry again in the hotter months of the year). Her hair fell oh-so-perfectly across her face, looking elegant yet messy at the same time, the combination of which just radiated an over all feeling of breeziness. And her face, she was-

'Okay', Wheatley internally spoke as he took a moment to compose himself, 'calm down, Wheatley, she's just a bit of light. Like a... photo..synthesis... or something. Something like that. Dunno what that means, but I remember it from somewhere. She is sort of like a photo, though. Pretty as one. AUGH wait, no, stop this... Just keep talking!' "...Gorge- GOOD." quick to correct himself, nice save, "L-looking good, actually. Very... very nice."

[mordenheim]

How did this happen?

Mia sat in her car for a few minutes.  She hadn’t heard from Noah in days and to say that she was worried would be a huge understatement.  She nibbled at her bottom lip as she wondered if she should even be here.

He’d warned her when they started dating that he would need a few days to himself each month, but she hadn’t heard a word out of him for three straight days.  She hadn’t even been able to get a text message from him.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she unlocked her car door and stepped out into the chill October morning air.  She could smell the crisp scent of autumn leaves and the warm scent of smoke from someone’s fireplace.

Her heels clicked on the concrete sidewalk as she made her way up to his front door.  She looked around for a moment, checking first inside of his mailbox.  There was at least three days worth of mail inside.  Was he even home?  She ran her fingers along the top of the door frame and found nothing.  Nothing under the doormat, either.

Then off to the side, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.  A small stone sitting on the side of the porch.  Reaching down to grab it, she found it was light, made of plastic and rattled loudly.  Turning it over in her hand, she smiled as she saw the little sliding door on the flat base.  Popping it open, she triumphantly pulled out a house key.

She paused for a moment, wondering if she should really do this.  This could be seen as a huge invasion of privacy, but every other time he took a few days, she’d been able to get ahold of him, at least during the day.  Steeling herself for the worst, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Looking around, she was surprised.  Nothing was out of place.  Everything looked just as it did when she left him three days ago.  No dishes in the sink, no extra trash in the can.  There was even a thin layer of dust on a lot of things in the house.  Had he just gone out of town for the weekend?

She was just about to turn and leave when she caught the smell in the air.  Kind of like stale dog food and meat that had gone off.  Walking into the kitchen, she checked the refrigerator first, finding it mostly empty except for a case of sodas, some bottles and jars, and a carton of eggs.  The freezer, which had been stocked with meat, was completely empty, though.

“Noah?  Noah are you here?”  She called out into the quiet.

Unsure of what else to do, she tried following the smell through the house.  It wasn’t coming from upstairs or out in the garage.  Finally, she reached the basement door thoroughly confused.  The smell of soured meat was odd enough, but the stale dog food smell was even stronger here.  Noah didn’t own a dog.

She slowly opened the door and the smell almost knocked her down.  She swallowed her gorge and managed to call out to him, “Noah?”

She heard a soft moan from down in the darkness.  Groping around until she found the light switch.  Flicking it on, she heard an even louder groan and raced down into the basement.

As she reached the bottom, she gasped and froze, her eyes going wide as she placed a hand over her mouth in horror.  Piles of what looked like half eaten meat were strewn all over the floor.  A huge bag of dog food had been torn open and was scattered everywhere.  Noah’s phone was smashed to pieces in the middle of the floor.

Worst of all was Noah.  He was filthy, naked, and was chained to the wall by a collar around his neck.  Mia raced over to his side, kneeling next to him and unfastening the collar.  The heavy chain rattled to the floor with a thump when she let it go.

“Oh my god, Noah.  Noah, are you okay?  How did this happen?”

His eyes were bleary as he blinked up at her, like he couldn’t think straight.  “Oh god, Mia..  Are you okay?  I didn’t…”  He blinked, his eyes going wide, then color rushed to his face as he looked away from her in shame, reaching for a tattered blanket to cover his nudity.

“Mia..  I…  Have a lot to tell you.”

[kingkatsuki]

Been thinkin' about Pro-Hero Katsu who's testing out potential new sidekicks for his agency on one of their training grounds. As each one steps up to the plate one of his assistants whispers quirk types and stats in his ear.

You walk up, staring absolute daggers into his soul, and they say to him, "This one was caught up in an explosion recently-"

"-yeah, yeah, so go easy on 'em."

"No - so watch your back, because they've been training against explosive quirks for the past two months."

Cue a little intrigue, perhaps? A little curiosity? Some tension? Trauma bonding? Enemies to lovers?

Anyways I hope you are having a lovely day ❤️ xoxoxoxoxo

GORGE I’M SCREAMING! You always have the bestest ideas I swear.

I want a 100k slowburn of this immediately and I don’t even fucking like slowburn😂😭

But when his assistant says that you were caught up in an explosion and to go easy on you, he has no idea that the explosion that you were caught up in was caused by him.

The entire city knows about Dynamight when he’s chasing villains, his quirk can be heard from miles around, the impact causing the ground to shake just enough you could be convinced there was an earthquake. And you were inside the building at the moment the impact hit—

Imagine it put you in hospital, leaving you there for weeks until you were finally discharged and sentenced to mandatory therapy. Of course your time in the ward was spent watching Dynamight on television praised for how well he handled the attack, apprehending the villains in record time and keeping the city safe. But no one came to check in on you, or the other people hurt by the impact, not even a copy and paste card from Dynamight’s agency wishing you a speedy recovery and making sure you were okay. Nothing.

So you spend your time honing your quirk, training to become stronger so you can handle yourself. A water based quirk should be perfect against someone with a fire quirk like Dynamight, but he’s strong… so you need to try harder. The fire burns behind your eyes when you finally make it to the final rankings and find yourself standing face to face with the man that left you inside the burning building, for one of the lesser heroes to rescue. The man you hadn’t seen since that fateful night, the man whose been at the forefront of your mind for months.

And he doesn’t even know who you are, does he?

[kasha-formerlydrabbletastic]

A Pretty Stubborn Something

Part 1 / Part 3 / Bonus / Part 4 / Part 5

Steve Harrington x Wife!Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: Steve and the reader are on a hiking trail and things get steamy.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Public sex. P in V sex. Oral sex (f receiving). 

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Inching toward the edge of a cliff, you're intent on seeing the bottom of the gorge for yourself; you'd heard from some locals you and Steve had encountered in an RV park last night that it was a sight to behold, a hike with a beautiful destination, perfect for beginners. Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear of tipping over the edge and falling to your death pumping through your veins, but if you're careful enough, you think, you should be okay.

In your peripherals you notice motion and you look to your left. Steve is lowering himself to the ground on his hands and knees, approaching the edge before settling himself onto his belly. Your backpacks lay off to the side, waiting for you to pick them back up again.

"What are you doing?" you ask with a giggle.

He looks up at you, his expression as serious as ever. "I'm making sure I don't fall over like an idiot. And as your husband, I suggest you do the same. I'd like to keep you for as long as possible, if that's alright."

"Low and flat, less likely to topple," you reply, smiling fit to burst. "Thank you for the tip, Mr. Harrington."

He watches you, his expression softening as you copy his method. The two of you are now face down in the grass, grinning like children as you army crawl to the edge.

"Let's check out this view, Mrs. Harrington," he says.

"Absolutely," you answer, and the pair of you scoot forward until your heads poke over the side.

"Oh, wow," Steve says, the awe in his voice making him quiet.

Wow is right, you think, taking in the small river at the bottom; it's almost crystal clear, the rocks at the bottom very visible from this point of view, and dotted on either bank with groups of shady trees, their leaves greener than you'd ever seen. You figure the smaller shapes moving in the water are fish, swimming with the current under the sparkles that reflect off the surface from the sun.

"Oh, look!" Steve says, pointing over the edge; you follow his prompt to a doe and her fawns on the opposite bank, the small family of deer leaning into the water for a drink.

"Oh, this is cool," you murmur, trying to keep quiet to avoid scaring the deer off.

"If we ever see that couple again," Steve says quietly, reaching for your hand, "we gotta thank them for this. This is gorgeous."

With your other hand, you reach for your camera, pulling it from your pocket and pointing it at the deer. A few clicks later, you've got some pictures of the family, a nice keepsake for your photo album.

"Let me see that," Steve says, beckoning for the camera.

You hand it over, thinking he's going to have a different view point of the gorge, but all he does is point it at you.

"Smile, beautiful," he says, smiling himself.

"Steve," you playfully reprimand. "That one is for the sights."

"And what better sight is there than my beautiful wife in this beautiful place?"

As soon as you laugh, he takes a picture. He rolls away to get a more complete view of you and you play along; you lift your head and feet in a coy pose, pointing your toes and smiling wide for Steve.

"Oh, yes," he praises, getting to his knees for a higher view point. "Yes, baby. Yes! Work the camera, work the camera!"

You can't help but laugh as you roll onto your side, your head resting on one hand and the other on your hip. Steve gets to his feet, standing above you as you roll onto your back, stretching and posing to show off your curves.

"Yes, baby," he says. "You're a natural. Have you ever considered modeling as a career?"

He clicks the camera until he can't anymore, the tell-tale whirring of the film inside indicating the end of the roll.

"Oh, damn," he says. "You got another roll on you?"

"Yes," you answer, propping yourself up on your elbows as he drops to his knees again, sitting back on his feet. "But it's for the sights. You can't be wasting it all on me, you know."

"Is it really a waste, though?" he asks, setting the camera down a safe distance away. "Because, honestly, I'd just like to take pictures of you all the time. You're gorgeous."

"But what if I want to take pictures of you?" you ask; you meet his sparkling eyes, filled with joy and, if you're not mistaken, just a touch of lust.

"We'll have plenty of time for that," he answers. "But hold still. You got something right here."

He leans down, brushing your hip off and accidentally pushing your shirt up.

"Dammit," he says, now brushing at your bare skin. "It's just not coming off. Looks like I'm just gonna have to..."

He lowers himself onto his hands above you, eyes fixed on yours before his lips touch your hip. You smirk at him, watching as he slowly presses kiss after kiss just above the waistband of your shorts. With every brush of his lips, your skin tingles, the sensation finding its way through your nerves and deep into your core.

"That's a pretty stubborn something, isn't it?" you ask with a giggle.

"Definitely," he murmurs against your skin. "It looks like I might be down here for a while. You might as well get comfortable."

You grin as he bites at the button of your shorts, popping it open before his lips meet the exposed skin underneath. His fingers take over then, pulling the zipper down and holding your shorts open. He kisses over your skin, over your panties before he simply tugs them down your legs, pausing to pull off your sneakers before you lay half bare before him.

"God, you're fucking beautiful," he says, his hands starting at your knees and smoothing up the soft skin of your inner thighs, pushing your legs apart.

He props himself up on his hands over you, lowering himself until his lips meet where you leg joins your hip. His mouth traces the crook, not stopping until he nibbles at one of your lips; his tongue glides over it, his lips gently sucking it in before doing the same for the other.

"Steeeeeve," you whine, watching his eyes glitter with mischief. "You're such a tease."

"You wouldn't have me any," he plants a kiss to your mound, "other," he plants another just above your womb, "way."

With that, he dips back down, pulling the tip of his tongue through your slick lips, flicking at your clit as you moan.

"Fuck!" you say, fingers diving into his hair at once.

Steve takes his time, tracing every last nerve of your clit, tasting every twitch and every buck as your hips chase his mouth. He pulls your clit between his lips, sucking on it before letting his teeth graze it. With every moan and whimper that dances from your lips, his enthusiasm doubles, his eagerness to swallow your climax the same as it's always been. His hands press your thighs up and open, allowing him to feast between them without interruption.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper as he slips two fingers into you, gently gliding them in and out, listening to the squelch of your arousal before he hooks them into your g-spot. "Ah, Steve!"

All the while, the high builds in your core, making you squirm under your husband. You press your hips against his face, seeking your climax quicker than he can give it to you, just as his arm comes to rest over your pelvis. Steve holds you down, continuing his quest for your pleasure. He moans into your cunt as your fingers grip his hair, lost in your taste, in your scent.

"Oh my g- " you pant, "Steve, so close... so fucking close..."

He focuses his efforts, keeping a steady pace against your clit and g-spot, sparking a riotous feeling in your belly. He knows exactly how to play you, consistent in his efforts until you burst.

"Fuck!" you cry out as your climax rips through your body, your cunt pulsing around Steve's fingers. "Fuck, Steve! Oh my god!"

He doesn't stop until your body relaxes, slowing down as he slips his fingers out of you. His tongue slows, languidly stroking before he presses kisses against your tender clit. When you've fully relaxed against the grass, he drags those kisses up over your garden of pubic hair and up your tummy. He shoves your t-shirt up to expose your ribs kissing each and every one as he pulls your shirt from you. He tosses the shirt on top of your shorts before he pulls back the bra covering your tits, tugging the straps down to uncover your hardened nipples.

"Baby," he moans, his lips closing over one before his tongue swirls around it.

"God, Steve," you sigh, holding him close. "Come here."

You guide his mouth up to yours, tasting yourself the moment your lips connect. You moan into the kiss, fingers fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt before you pull it over his head. His lips meet yours as soon as possible as he hums into the kiss; your fingers travel down his hairy chest, following the swell of his muscles until you pull the button of his shorts open.

"Hold on," he says, kissing you once, twice, three times before he rises to his knees.

He pulls his backpack forward, unzipping a pocket and diving into it to pull out a condom.

"So very confident, aren't we?" you giggle.

"Is it confidence or is it just an easy prediction?" he asks, the foil packet between his teeth as he tugs his shorts and boxers down. "Remember, we barely made it out of the wedding ceremony and into the limo before you climbed onto my lap and fucked me stupid?"

"You can't say you didn't like it," you laugh, eyes fixed on his thick cock.

"What? Are you asking if I like having the horniest wife in the world?" he teases, placing the condom over the tip of his dick and slowly rolling it down his shaft. "You see, you can't even look me in the eye when my dick's out. It's like the only thing you married me for."

You laugh, a blush burning along your cheeks as he lowers himself to his hands over you; his cock rests against your lower tummy as he presses kisses over your neck and chest.

"Please," you counter. "Don't tell me you forgot the moment during the reception you saw me bending over to talk to my nephew and decided to pull me away so you could fuck me stupid."

"Totally different," he says against your sternum, his lips following the curve of your breast. "Your ass looked great in that wedding dress, babe."

"Then you must've married me for my ass. I guess we're even, huh?"

Steve looks up at you, a glittering smile on his face as he brings it level with yours. Your lips meet once again, slow and tender as he reaches down between your legs.

"Mmm..." you moan into his mouth as he tickles your clit with his cock, brushing up and down and up and down before he plunges in. "Fuck me!"

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," he groans when he's fully seated. "God, I fucking love the way you take me."

He only moves to straighten up, hitching your hips up his thighs before he pulls back; he watches your body as he pushes back in slowly, delighting in the way that you squirm for him. His hand slowly crosses your hips, his thumb pressing gentle circles to your clitoris as he pulls back again.

"That's right, baby," he says gently as you bring your hands to your tits. "Touch yourself. Feel how sexy you are."

Your fingers trace the curves of your breasts as Steve begins to thrust; he bites his lip as he watches them bounce, even after you've pinched your nipples between your fingertips. His thumb works against your clitoris, still sensitive and sparking like a live wire.

"Fuck, baby," you moan, closing your legs around his ass to encourage him deeper.

He leans forward, lowering himself onto one arm as he kisses you, all teeth and tongue and desperation as his hips snap quicker.

"All those pretty sounds you're making, babe," he sighs against your lips. "They're making it so hard for me."

"Yeah?" you tease, pressing kisses along his stubbly jawline. "How hard?"

Steve chuckles, pulling your hands above your head and pinning them to the ground before he picks up speed. His hips slam into yours as his free hand strokes your clit, and he groans with his efforts. The head of his cock drags along your g-spot with every thrust, your nerves tingling with imminent ecstasy.

"Fuck," you whine against his neck. "Fuck, you feel so good."

You drag your teeth along the sensitive skin of his pulse point, and you feel his hand tighten around your wrists.

"Baby," he pants. "Come for me, baby."

Not moments after he commands it, do you feel the snap in your core; your cunt seizes around his cock, pure bliss flowing through your veins from head to toe.

"Oh, fuck!" Steve grunts, his hips stuttering as he spills into the condom.

He comes to a stop above you, his breath fast and warm against your mouth. His lips brush yours, gentle and soft as ever, as the two of you level out. Scooping you and your jelly limbs into his arms, Steve helps you sit up, coming face to face with you with a smile. 

“Hi,” you laugh, watching him stand. 

“Hi,” he replies, helping you to your feet. “Should probably get dressed before someone else comes along.”

Another blush sets your cheeks aflame as you remember you’re on a hiking trail where anyone could pass by, coming across your rather indecent display. Who’s to say nobody did see it, thought? you think. You were too distracted to notice anything else.

“Steve!” you hiss, grabbing your clothes and hopping into them in record time. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Steve laughs, putting his shorts back on. “I would never let anyone else see you naked.”

“Oh, really?” you say, putting your shoes back on. “You mean to tell me that you’re not actually thinking about that threesome Eddie suggested?”

Steve avoids your eye, putting his shirt on. You watch as he gathers up your bags, grabbing you gently by the arm.

“Let’s just finish this trail,” he says quickly, his cheeks turning red. 

“Whatever you say,” you reply. “Big Boy.”

[spencer-reids-adventures]

Sorry if this is a little overly specific but if you are okay with it, would you mind writing about after Gideon leaves, Spencer blames himself for it and the blame gradually spirals into a restriction eating disorder because he feels like he needs to better himself in any way possible. Eventually though, it becomes pretty noticeable that something is wrong as he hasn't gone out for drinks with the team in a few months and so they have an intervention with him about it.

tw: disordered eating

It starts slowly.

Gideon leaves, and Spencer is overwhelmed with guilt, certain that Gideon left because of something he did. Of course, the trauma of losing Sarah was also a factor, and Spencer knows that, believes it, but he still thinks if he had been better, if he had reached out to Gideon, if he had done something, Gideon would still be here.

At first it’s just breakfast. 

He realizes that when he wakes up he has no appetite, and so instead of forcing down a bowl of oatmeal, he just…doesn’t eat. Later, when he does start to get hungry, he just deals with it. Maybe he deserves to be hungry. Maybe it’ll help him focus more. Maybe his lack of focus is why Gideon left.

It gets worse. 

Spencer doesn’t stop eating entirely, but he stops eating in front of other people. He can’t bear the thought of him gorging himself when he’s the reason the team is down a member. He feels disgusting when he eats, grotesque. The whole process of putting food into his mouth and then chewing it up and swallowing makes him shudder.

He eats in secret, at his apartment where no one can see him, but even there, it all feels wrong. The sensations are just as bad. Somewhere deep in his brain he knows what he’s doing isn’t okay, and he does his best to nibble on nuts and fruits when he can, but it’s so, so hard.

He’s at the office one evening when JJ invites him out with the rest of the team for dinner and drinks. A hundred thousand thoughts run through his mind all at once. I can’t eat in front of them. I can’t be in front of them at all. They’re going to judge me. They’re going to hate me. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I cant…

“Sorry,” he says. “Believe it or not, I’ve got other plans.”

That’s the first time he declines an invitation from his friends—his family—but it’s not the last. Over the next few months he continues to say no when they invite him out, and he continues to eat only at home, now convinced that if he could just be better, more disciplined, no one else will leave him. This is the only way to keep his friends close.

He doesn’t even realize that he’s pushing them away.

Spencer is at his desk getting ready to head home when Emily comes to tell him they’re needed in the conference room.

“Do we have a case?” Spencer asks, surprised and yet also not surprised at all.

“I guess we’ll see when we get there,” Emily shrugs, and they walk together, Emily’s hand hovering over Spencer’s back.

Once everyone is gathered at the table, Hotch clears his throat.

“Spencer,” he says. “We’re here because we’re worried about you.”

Spencer blinks and frowns. “Why?”

“You never want to go out with us anymore,” says Penelope. “And you—”

“You’re so skinny, pretty boy,” Morgan says, his voice dripping with concern. “More than usual. You… you look sick.”

“I’m fine,” Spencer says quickly. “Please, I— Don’t worry— Please, I’m fine.”

Even he can hear that he doesn’t sound fine.

“No one’s seen you eat in months,” Hotch points out gently. “Look at you, you’re shaking right now.”

Spencer glances down to see that his hands are trembling. He’s gotten so used to it, he didn’t even notice. 

“It’s nothing,” he tries again. “I’ve been a little sick. I’m feeling better now. It’s fine.”

“Spence,” JJ begs. “Please tell us what’s going on.”

Spencer puts his head in his hands so he can’t see anyone. He sits perfectly still for a long time before he finally swallows back a sob and takes a deep breath.

“It started when Gideon left,” he murmurs. “I just… I just want to be better.”

“And better means you can’t eat?” JJ asks softly.

“Eating is hard.”

“Why do you want to be better?” Emily asks.

“So no one else leaves…”

Spencer leans forward until his head is on the table, and after a moment, he feels a hand press gently onto his back. A moment later he feels another, and another, until the whole team is standing behind him, touching him. They know he doesn’t like group hugs, so this is their compromise, their way of showing that they’re here for him.

For the first time in months, Spencer lets them in.

[marcmarcmomarc]

Miraculous

Chapter 16: Under Attack

(In Paris, Bela’s bat minions patrol the streets. Lila oversees the new order from the Eiffel Tower with her main agents.)

LILA: Look at that. Doesn’t the sound of the citizens working tirelessly just tingle the back of your neck?

HUNTSMAN: Oh, yes. Absolutely.

LILA: Smek. What’s going on in Orlando?

SMEK: The Parisians are packing up their suitcases. They are probably intending on heading to the airport to fly back.

LILA: Hmm. Minor bump in the plan, but I can make it work. Bela, let’s send several of your minions to Florida to take care of the travel group.

BELA: Should they escort them back alive so they can see the destruction you’ve caused to their beloved city?

LILA: That’s actually a good idea.

(Meanwhile, strolling through Avalon Park, Marinette gets a news notification on her phone. “Lila Rossi’s reign over Paris continues to grow. Ladybug and Cat Noir nowhere to be seen to stop her.”)

MARINETTE: Tikki. Come take a look.

(Tikki floats up and sees the article.)

TIKKI: You think this might have been Lila’s plan the whole time? Get you out of Paris so she can take it over?

MARINETTE: I might not like what they’ve done, but they don’t deserve this.

(In their villa, the group finishes packing. Adrien gets something he thought he’d never get ever again since the day Marinette left, a call from her.)

ADRIEN: Huh?

(He answers.)

MARINETTE: (ON SPEAKER PHONE) Have you seen the news?

ADRIEN: No. What’s wrong?

MARINETTE: It’s Lila. Look at what she’s done to Paris.

(Alya sees the news article about Lila’s reign.)

ADRIEN: Lila tricked us into leaving so she could take it for herself?

MARINETTE: I’m down in Avalon Park. Let’s meet up there and figure something out.

ADRIEN: Okay.

(They hang up. Adrien faces the others.)

ADRIEN: Alright, guys. It seems like Marinette will actually listen to us now, but let’s not try to convince her to come back with us.

(The group looks at each other, then nod at Adrien. Meanwhile, at Waterford Lakes Town Center, Luna-TK faces Marinette’s new friends and so many Crossover Characters from Municiberg, New Urbem, Royal Woods, Great Lakes City, Scotland, the Boov and Gorg ships, Chicago, Santa Cécilia, Bird Island, Piggy Island, Eagle Island, Pop Village, Bergen Town, Volcano Rock City, Vibe City, Lonesome Flats, Techno Reef, Symphonyville, Hole N’ Fun, Mount Rageous, Vacay Island, TrollsTopia, Chew and Swallow, Gravity Falls, New Berk and the surrounding lands, Monstropolis, the suburbs where Gru resides, Freedonia, Mayflower, Transylvania, Santa Cruz, and Camp Winnepacaca, you’d need to see the “Additional Voices” section in the credits to get the picture.)

LUNA-TK: What is happening? True friends are supposed to be by your side through thick and thin, to the ends of the earth and back. Well, I say if they can’t manage that, they aren’t real friends! The world as we know it is under attack. And who’s leading that attack? Adrien!

(Everyone jumps back in shock.)

LUNA-TK: Are we going to let troublemakers like Adrien make us go on high alert forever?

EVERYONE: No!

LUNA-TK: If Adrien and his group continue forward, the entire city will go on high alert, which will lead to the entire state going on high alert, then the whole country, then the whole world!

LINCOLN: Yeah! The traitors must pay!

DRACULA: It’s their persistence!

BOB: We have to do something!

SULLEY: For the safety of the future!

MIKE: For the safety of everyone!

LUNA-TK: Are we going to let them get away with this?!

EVERYONE: No!

LUNA-TK: Let’s go get them!

(The riled-up mob stampedes down the street and onto the highway.)

[mmorpg-escapism]

So the dungeon doesn't quite get us to the top, but close enough. Straight through soul cell storage... there's an alarming amount of space for them here, but they look like they've been used up already... and that's a REALLY bad sign.

Okay, not that I'm upset to see them, but how in the world did Estinien, Alphinaud, and Y'shtola get here? (also that brings our party to Trial Size, so I know what's next)

Man who left the fog machine on in here? More importantly, who left the VOIDGATE on in here? This is the biggest one we've ever seen!

...not voidgate, then, but still. Huge reflection access portal... big problem. Bigger problem stands in front of us, of course, and it's lizard-bot flavored.

Stands? Sits. Gorging himself on souls. Oh, he doesn't look so good. Complete with identity crisis. Uh oh.

Ah, there he is. Fight time!

[theretirementstory]

26/05/2024. Oh my goodness, I am inside my own four walls, waking in my own bed and relaxing in my own chair and it is just wonderful! Okay, so I only got home on Wednesday evening and have to visit the hospitals in Paris and Troyes over the next few months but who gives a fig, I will say it once again, I AM HOME 😁.

The beautiful card, pictured, was made for me by a friend in the UK, she had hoped it would arrive before I went into hospital, however it was a wonderful surprise to receive it when I returned.

My garden, which I had been longing to see, is still waiting for the gardener to arrive with his mower. He now assures me it will be Monday or Tuesday, it really needs to be otherwise I may need a goat to clear “the pasture”.

The irises are all dead now, I did a little dead heading yesterday. There was a weed (it wasn’t there before I left) which, if left, could have grown into a tree. However the root system was not deep and I removed that very easily. I noticed that one of the hellebores was flowering and am praying that when the gardener does arrive that he doesn’t mow over the top of it too. The œillets (pinks/carnations) are starting to flower and I really would like to try and reclaim my borders which are full of weeds and grass. The cherry tree has the most cherries on that I have ever seen, my neighbour tells me they are not ripe yet, I think by the time they are the birds will have eaten the majority. Noticed a blackbird in the tree gorging itself on them. I need to take things slowly and so I will need to, eventually, do a little bit at a time.

My peonies have not flowered again this year (well they are only young). On Thursday I took a telephone call which was from one of the florists in town. She said she had a delivery for me 🤔 I thought, who would be sending me flowers? The bouquet arrived, six beautiful pinky/white peonies oh my goodness who had sent them? I read the card that was with them and promptly burst into tears. The bouquet was from “The Trainee Solicitor” and “The Reconnect Navigator”. What a wonderful surprise 🥲.

Anie had been shopping for me on Wednesday and kindly brought the shopping down around 8pm. She also brought me a bunch of œillet from her garden. She hugged me (we both had masks on so I guess that was alright). Monique had volunteered her help, I just have to ask. Lots of people want to come and see me but until I get a programme of where I am and when, it’s a little difficult to organise. Well it is early days too I suppose.

The dietician had a laminated sheet on the back of the door in my room, it showed things that I was allowed to eat, on there were Mars bar, Twix and Kitkat. I have dreamt of Mars bars and Kitkats, still not had one but think I may treat myself next week.

Yesterday was the BBQ for the association, of which my knitting group is part. I received a photo and was totally surprised to see that numbers have dwindled so much that everyone attending seemed to be just around one table. it looked as if there were only 14 people in total. it really is quite sad as before Covid the groups seemed to have such a large number of members.

It was a full five days work last week for “The Trainee Solicitor” and “The Reconnect Navigator” so this long weekend (Bank Holiday Monday) is going to be a nice break again. There were plans afoot to sort out the garden hedge etc but not sure if that got started yesterday although grass seed (?) had been purchased so it may have found it’s way from the box to the ground by now 😉. “The Reconnect Navigator” had been and had her nails “done” and very nice they looked too.

“The Photographer” has been to London for a few days. He went to meet up with a guy he had worked with. He had a good time but didn’t appear to do as much as had been mooted. He visited his Aunt and Uncle too which was another nice visitor for them. He has got a few irons in the fire with his photography so that is interesting. His children are away on holiday with their Mum and Grandad who is visiting from Vancouver!

“The Jetsetter” back from her adventures in Vancouver, has been back at work. It won’t be for much longer though as another holiday is beckoning.

Onto the music slot this week, I am reminiscing over holidays long gone but memories are wonderful things. Numerous visits to Sousse in Tunisia, nights spent in “La Grotte” disco, taking over the dance floor to tracks like “I Surrender” by Rainbow, released in 1981 or the song I loved so much from 1976, “If You Leave Me Now” by Chicago.

It’s Fetes des Meres here today (as it is in a number of countries) so I am happy with my Mother’s Day present of the beautiful peonies. Well they were really to wish me well on the road to recovery but have been given a dual purpose now.

Bon Dimanche

[aceontheline]

Love is in Bloom (Mass x Florida: Pt 1)

Massachusetts had no idea that he liked anyone so much. So intimately, so closely. Until he kept seeing Florida's scrunched up face smiling at him. Mass had no way of explaining how adorable it was. But it was like seeing a puppy run around aimlessly. Like seeing a kid's toothy grin with bright eyes to match. It made Mass's heart melt.

… Did Mass just admit to liking Florida? In his own mind, sure. But could he bring himself to tell Flo how he actually felt? He was pretty damn sure that him & Louie were together because of how close they are. But Mass needed to know for sure. So he asked the source: Louisiana.

"What makes you think we're together, Sha?" Louie asked, confusedly scratching his head.

"Well… Yous guys do have that closeness. You're comfy with physical contact and all that-"

"Mais, I'm tellin' ya. We just friends. If you like 'im, go for it den" Louie interrupted, then taking a sip of a delicious looking strawberry daiquiri. "Just lettin' ya know now though… Flo can be a bit clingy sometimes" Louie finished his statement, closing the door to his room.

Mass knew what he had to do, but it would take a while. He decided to grow a bouquet of orange blossoms & mayflowers, and he would give those to Florida to ask him out. Along with a lovely handwritten note. Mass was surprisingly more tender with those flowers than anything else he's ever done or put remotely any effort into. His heart felt like it was aching for quite some time, especially seeing Florida's close friendship with Louie. Although, Mass made a promise to himself that if Florida and him actually did get into a relationship, then he wouldn't overstep.

Once the flowers were fully bloomed, which took a good 2-3 months, Mass enacted his plan & left the bouquet at Florida's room door, knocked and hid behind a wall. Florida opened his door cautiously and saw the bouquet sitting at his door, perfectly tended to and in a nice vase. He looked at it, inspecting the fully bloomed flowers and grinned with that same smile that Mass grew to love. He read the note.

"Florida, Like your sunshine weather, you lighten up my day. Seeing you smile melts my cold heart. I want nothing more than to see it every day of my life. Would you go out with me? ~ Massachusetts"

Florida smiled in a much softer way. One that Mass had never seen before. Mass appeared from behind the wall as soon as Florida looked up, almost like a movie moment. Florida nodded rapidly, running toward Mass for a hug. Florida hugged Mass closely to him and excitedly repeated "Yes!" Mass chuckled at Flo's excitement, happy that the two were to start dating now.

The night of their first date came around. Mass told Florida to dress in a semi formal way, providing examples. Mass wore a decent suit navy blue jacket and pants he had, matching with a pair of matte black dress shoes. Florida came about wearing a dark grey suit jacket & pants, white dress shirt, and dark brown shoes. Neither were wearing hats, looking rather distinguished.

Mass took Florida out to a fancy restaurant in his area. They gorged on a lovely steak dinner paired with some wine. The two had a really enjoyable time, talking about their lives in a more casual way. Nothing too open yet, as Mass liked to keep himself limited upon the first date. Once the two got back to the Statehouse, Mass walked Florida to his room.

"I had a wonderful time tonight. What did you think?" Mass asked Florida.

"The food was awesome, and so was our whole conversation. Although, next time, we don't gotta try so hard, y'know? I enjoyed it, don't get me wrong" Florida stated.

"Oh, would you like to pick our next date spot then?" Mass asked.

"Okay! I'll text you with the details later!" Florida happily responded, kissing Mass on the lips softly.

Mass lingered his fingers to his own lips as Florida's door closed. The taste of the cherry red wine lingered on both their lips. He smiled softly, walking back to his own room. He sat down on the bed and composed himself for a moment. Mass repeatedly confirmed in his own mind that, yes, this date between him and Florida actually happened. Within half an hour, Florida texted him with details to the spot of their next date. It was a more laid back Puerto Rican restaurant. Mass looked at some of the menu options beforehand and they actually looked pretty good. He was settled on Pollo Guisado (stew made up of braised chicken, potatoes, carrots, and olives in a tomato-based broth) and a rice and beans dish. For him, it would be a lot of spices in one course, but he was sure he could handle it.

The next evening went swimmingly as well. They saw a movie before dinner, breaking the ice and allowing more conversation to flow. Mass ordered exactly what he was prepared to, and surely enough, it was fairly spicy for his tastes. Nothing a little bit of water and Pepto Bismol once he got home (if need be) couldn't fix. The two ended their date night with some cuddling on the couch and listening to music. After their session, Florida kissed Mass again. A little longer this time. It didn't lead to anything immediately, as Mass didn't want to do anything of the sort to throw off/scare off Florida.

"Tonight was fun. Thanks, Flo" Mass said softly.

"You're welcome, Masshole" Florida replied teasingly.

Mass hugged Florida by his waist, attempting to pick him up, making Florida giggle as they fell back onto the couch. The two gazed into each other's eyes, kissing once more. They separated not too long after.

"You get to bed now, Orange Blossom. I'll see you later, kay?" Mass said.

"Okay, I will. See you later, Mays" Florida replied in a soft, happy tone.

Mays... Short for Mayflowers, Mass believed. He liked it. It was cute. Orange Blossom was Mass's selected nickname for Florida. Because like the flowers, Florida had a subtle beauty to him. It was becoming increasingly not so subtle though, but it was also just names based off their state flowers.

Mass knew he thought too hard about this, so he just went to his room to decompress after this lovely evening with Florida.

Next: ( Here )

Masterpost: ( Here )

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

I'm trying to think of a way to make Ferntuft creepier but the face sliding around bit is... maybe as creepy as he can get. Also he definitely smells Rank.

Okay let's think....

Two factors of his death: falling over the gorge + infection

His skin is tough, like the rocks he bashed his face on. Not as tough as the rocks, but definitely and noticeably tougher than regular cat skin. His spine is jagged and sharp

The inside of his body is like the inside of a infection, which can mostly just be seen through his mouth or when something leaves his body (via 'blood' or tears [like instead it's yellow goop]), basically so that his own body is a manifestation of infection.

Or the outside is like rocks and the inside is like infection, but when he has scars, or the 'shield' of rocks is torn away, what is left is that giant infection of a cat that everyone can see (which is what his face/mask covers)

It's hard to find facts about the physical characteristcs of infections because Google just keeps giving me the physical characteristics of someone with the infection. Though might depend on the kind he has.

[harrison-abbott]

FREDDIE

My brother Freddie was sentenced to be executed. He’d been on Death Row for years; but he was due to be killed next week. On the Tuesday. So I drove over to see him for one last time, on the Saturday.

Freddie was always crazy. He got beaten up a lot by my Dad when he was little. Before I was born, or too young to understand. Because I was born four years after Freddie, and Dad left when I was two, so I don’t remember much of the beatings Freddie took from him. Dad abandoned us with Mum.

And then Mum started beating Freddie. Like it was some kind of replacement. As if she was replacing her man’s behaviour: and those incidents I do remember. Freddie cowering in the corner of the kitchen whilst she kept kicking him; and she would pull his hair and prod him in the kidneys. She did it with me as well. She’d slap me. The vaguest thing would rocket her off. Mostly when she was tired after coming home from the supermarket, a thirteen hour shift and she hadn’t had a drink yet.

Then one day when Freddie was nine he fought back. She started on him. Again, in the kitchen; and I began screaming for her to stop. Freddie picked up a chair and he whacked her with it.

And there followed this clean silence in the room. All of us quite amazed. I remember watching Freddie’s face. He didn’t look like Freddie anymore. And I had rarely seen Mother scared before, aside from when it came to bills, and where to find money, or if she had ran out of booze.

Then Freddie hit her again, with the chair, and Mum shrieked and ran away and locked herself in her bedroom.

That gave Freddie a new perspective of himself which was ironic in so many ways. Because he’d responded to his parental battery with physical violence: and it had worked. And yet, there was nobody to help him out with what had happened to him for the last nine years. There was no soul to tell him that what he experienced was not okay and that it was nothing to do with anything he had provoked.

And so he was left with violence as a means of dealing with the planet. And, because he grew tall and brawny from quite a young age, this worked well for him. Made sense.

Freddie wasn’t so mean to me. You’d expect that with all of the abuse he’d taken, he would naturally take it out on his little sister. But he didn’t. That’s what usually happens in families but I can’t put that label on him.

In fact, he could be pretty kind. Like, if Mother was doing one of her tantrums and throwing stuff around the house, he would keep me in his bedroom until the storm had subsided, so she couldn’t get at me. … Or, umm, if I had a fever or the flu he would head down to the store and get me some aspirin and orange juice. Things like those – things that mother didn’t do. …

There was one time on my birthday when Mother was out getting drunk somewhere, that Freddie and his mate Benny got me this little cake from the supermarket. There weren’t any candles because we didn’t have any candles at home. So they sang happy birthday to me without any candles on it. But Freddie told me to make a wish anyway and pretend that there were candles there anyway, and that I could blow them out in my imagination. And the wish would still come true. And Freddie and Benny had just stolen the cake from the supermarket, because they didn’t have the money to buy it. And Freddie admitted that he’d nicked it. They just put the cake box in Freddie’s rucksack and bolted out the doors with it. Benny was laughing, and it got me giggling as well. So Freddie, Bennie and I gorged on the stolen cake. … That remains my favourite birthday. In fact that was the only birthday I’ve ever enjoyed.

Freddie first went to jail when he was 17. There’s not much point in explaining what he did back then. Most teenagers don’t have the ability to keep their decision making in check. And that spell damaged the rest of his life. In and out of prisons. He would get released and then do something stupid and would be back in jail for another stretch. His crimes weren’t always violent. Most of them weren’t actually. But he couldn’t cope with his mind. How can anybody cope with that deranged type of history?

Our Mother died when Freddie was inside on one of these stretches. When I went to visit him back then I asked him if he could get permission to leave, for a day, to come to the funeral? Would he be able to do that?

“I don’t want to come to the funeral,” Freddie said. And his face was about as blank as if he was saying he didn’t like a particular taste or smell.

The crime that put him on Death Row I don’t want to talk about. That definitely was a vicious deed. Freddie had finally snapped, in an ultimate sense. And he knew that the death penalty was legal in this State. And he must’ve known that he would get caught. He didn’t even try and flee. Just let the police arrest him.

And so now I was driving over to this prison on a Saturday morning to go and see my elder brother for the last ever time.

I tried to listen to music on the drive over. But this was too demented. Because I can only ever listen to pop songs, happy songs; and they didn’t fit the mood of what was happening. … Nor did the weather outside match the tone of today, as it was all clear skied with a big smiley sun. The motorway wasn’t busy because it was young morning and I got to the prison building.

It - the building – looked just as horrible as you’d expect. This stark hulking breast of a place.

I had been here to visit Freddie several times before. I had to go through security checks. It bemused me what they would expect from a woman who was five foot three to do in a maximum security institution. What could I possibly do here? But, I suppose, I was my sister’s brother … I’ve certainly done horrible things myself. Am not perfect by any means.

After I had been searched and padded and so on, I was escorted down a long white corridor that smelled of toothpaste. My escort was a man with tough white hair and a black moustache, who smelled of cigarettes, and who chewed gum in a manic fashion. I’d met him a few times before – this guard – and I’d still never heard him speak aside from when I first came to visit Freddie.

The visiting room was at the far end of this hallway.

I saw Freddie fairly quickly. He was sitting calmly at one of the tables. And most of the room was empty, aside from the guards and two other inmates who were waiting on their visitors. The inmates and Freddie wore their orange prison clothing. Whilst the guards hung out on the periphery in their icy way.

Freddie grinned.

Despite what he was and how old and ugly he still had tremendous teeth. When I saw him smile and wave at me I felt this thickness develop in my throat and my eyes began to hurt. But, I made it over to his table. And I was allowed to hug him.

“Hey there, Freddie,” I said.

“Hey there, June.”

His shoulders were like touching a big dog’s back or the bonnet of a car. We sat down.

“Thanks for coming to see me, June,” he said.

“No problem.”

“How is Bruno doing?”

Bruno was my cat that I had at home. I did not, at this point, have a boyfriend, or any children. And so Freddie usually asked me how Bruno the cat was. I told Freddie he was fine. … Then to move the conversation on I began to tell a funny story that happened at my work the other day.

I worked in a restaurant. And the story was that despite me working there for eight years, I had been proud that I had never dropped a single plate or glass, or anything. You know how waiters and waitresses drop plates? It’s just what they do. Well, I hadn’t lost my virginity with that in 8 years working at this joint. And I finally dropped a plate in front of the kitchen staff. Because I had been working there for so long, all the chefs knew me and were fond of me. And they were stunned that I had finally broken something by accident.

And so they all began cheering and applauding that I had achieved a breakage. They bought me drinks after the shifts as a way of celebrating.

“Ho ho ho,” Freddie went. “Well done, Sis. Good effort.”

Those teeth were gleaming again.

And then after my story had finished there was this gap in the dialogue. We were the only people speaking in the room. Because the other prisoners’ guests hadn’t arrived yet, and the guards were still frozen to the walls; and so I was a bit nervous about speaking loud. I’ve never been that good at telling stories orally. As in, face to face. I can write okay, but, I have a naturally quiet voice and I’m just not so neat at saying it in person.

So I was thinking all of the above things and then I looked up at Freddie and he was watching me. He wasn’t smiling and he was concerned, about what I was thinking.

And that heaviness from earlier, in my throat, grew, and my eyes winced. And then I just broke apart and I clapped my hands to my head. Started crying.

It’s odd how when you cry your face blushes up because half of it is with the physical blood of crying and the other half with embarrassment. You can’t control it. And I kept my hands over my face because I felt humiliated in this setting. I tried not to make so much noise. The prisoners and guards were probably aware of it. Where they looking over at me? Yeah, most likely.

Then I felt a warm lumpy feeling on my shoulder. I peeked through my fingers. Freddie was holding me with his thick palm. And he was smiling.

“It’s all right, June,” he whispered, “it will be okay.”

I took out some tissues. And soaked up my cheeks, and gradually the blood in the cheeks faded.

“Jesus, June,” Freddie said, grinning, “it’s me that’s getting a lethal injection on Tuesday. Not you. Cheer up.”

I laughed. The tears spilled down my face in hot lines. The way that summer rain does sometimes when you look out at it from a window.

“Hey, Freddie?” I said.

“Yeah?”

“You remember when we were little. And it was my birthday. I think I must’ve been seven or so. Mum was out who knows where getting hammered. She probably forgot it was my birthday. Remember when you and Benny stole that cake for me? You couldn’t pay for it so you robbed it from the store and took it home as a present?”

Freddie’s eyeballs scanned his memory, and then his eyes flashed. He sprang up.

“Ah, ha! Yeah I do remember that. Ha ha, yeah.”

“It was a really fancy cake as well.”

“Yeah it was pretty tasty.”

We chuckled. I was still crying. I shuddered with rage and despair and memory and humour.

It was crazy that this man was going to be murdered by the State in three days. Insane that this was still happening, that was still allowed to happen, in this century. I couldn’t declare that my brother was a good man. Most likely he wasn’t. But at what point did the State have the righteousness to end his life?

That story about the cake finally made me quit crying. And then Freddie began to tell other stories about Benny (who was his best mate back when they were teens). And, see? Freddie was really great at telling tales face to face. Whereas I wasn’t.

I had an hour to spend with Freddie. That was the time they legally gave us as visitors. There was a clock on the far wall and the long hand got to ten minutes to the hour.

Another little pause in the dialogue. Where we both looked at each other … until Freddie said to me,

“We’ll still see each other in the afterlife, Sis.”

I nodded, and felt my face scrunch up again, go all red again.

Freddie only said the ‘afterlife’. He didn’t whether it would be Heaven or Hell.