#or at least it is until he and Singed pump him full of Shimmer

[goddessofroyalty]

Hello. I just read your Zaun Family and absolutely LOVE it !!!!! I’m curious about Silco and Vander’s reaction when they learnt about child Viktor’s health problems. Did they blame themselves for not noticing it sooner?

I know I've rambled about it previously but in the previous most recent post I touched on it I also decided not to do the dig further to try and find the old ramblings so I'm going to continue with that decision.

It's a bit of a yes and no situation. Partially because they find out about Viktor's health issues in stages and the answer is kind of different at each stage.

It starts with his knee. And that gets noticed when he's starting to crawl / learning to walk. At the time it's very easy to point to the cause of it being that he was a breach birth and obviously his knee got damaged during that. Sure, if they had of been able to afford early baby checkups it would have likely been found earlier but the position is that there's nothing that could have been done (at least after he was born) even if they had of found out about it earlier. Fact of life of living in Zaun where birth injuries are more common nothing they could have done (without Piltover sharing it's medical system with Zaun so more fuel on the Fuck Piltover fire).

As Viktor gets older they eventually find out about his spine as well. And I think that is the point where they feel a bit more guilty. Because they are that bit better set up at that point in time (Singed is possibly even now a connection depending on when exactly it's discovered) and yet never had the cause of Viktor's bad knee investigated. Maybe if they had of they might have caught whatever has caused now caused his back issues (I continue to refuse to diagnosis it, because, look, OBGYN is my area of medical hyperfixation not degenerative illnesses). And while they might not be able to cure it, Viktor might have started using a brace earlier and delayed the progression slightly.

And then there's the Season One illness. And this is where things get a bit vague because is the Season One illness just a progression of what caused his knee and back? Or is it another separate illness that's attacking his lungs and heart? If it's the former there is the level of guilt of not catching it earlier or at least not investigating the other things earlier. If it's the later then there's still guilt but less in not catching it earlier because it probably developed after Viktor was already living in Piltover with Piltover medical care and more the fact that they hadn't been able to give him a better life because he was born while they were still living in one of the more toxic areas of Zaun.

The consistent answer in all of this though is rage against Piltover. Because if Zaun wasn't filled with toxic everything and had access to the kind of medical system Piltover had Viktor likely would not have had any of it (which the fact that it looks like it's going to kill him young is the biggest point of anger).

[agardenofmonsters]

Fae BF | Pollux | Part 2

TransMasc Reader x Masc Fae Boyfriend

You x He/Him

Yay you get to meet my new  character who I absolutely adore <3 hope you like him too!

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

The world seems to tilt. The sky shimmers.

You back away from the Fae until your back hits a tree. Looking at your hands, you could almost feel the manacles clamping onto your wrists.

“Don’t act so upset,” the Fae calls. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“My whole life…” you whisper frantically. “I’ve been trapped by a name that wasn’t mine...and now that I have my proper name...I am trapped yet again!”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he says unsympathetically. “Life is what you make of it….now look alive.”

You snap to attention, feeling a little dizzy. His hand is outstretched.

“Come to me, pet.”

Your body straightens and starts walking over to the Fae.

You hate how natural it feels to obey him.

You pause as you reach him, and you watch your hand lift and place itself onto Pollux’s. He takes your hand and leans down to kiss it, sending a surge of goosebumps up your arm.

“Let’s get out of here.”

He grips your hand a little tighter. And like he did earlier, he takes you quickly through the meadow towards the monolithic rock formation like you’re fast forwarding through a movie. He uses the stone as a staircase, but his feet keep stepping even though he runs off the top of it. Despite not being able to see any of the crystal-clear steps, Pollux does not stumble, and neither do you. 

Only when you’re a couple stories up do the steps level out onto a platform. Pollux slows down and looks at you with bright, shining eyes.

“Now remember,” he taunts with a shit-eating grin. “Be on your best behavior! Don’t want any Fae to get mad at you….Trust me.”

You don’t respond.

“Alright, let’s go!” He says cheerfully, turning you around so he’s behind you. He plants a hand on your back and pushes you forward.

It’s like walking in the air, except the treetops poke through the crystalline floor. Soft, fluffy pink clouds furnish the space, billowing in giant mounds and spanning across the ground. Tree branches poke up out of the ground like flowers.

Everything was dusted with sparkles...or at least that was how everything looked.

Pollux pushes you towards the middle of two rows of booths, each with its own sets of fairies talking amongst each other in this little marketplace.

But the romantic air of the environment starts dropping in pieces as each group of Fae realize that you are there.

Then they all just stare. With their big gemstone eyes.

They would be beautiful if you weren’t completely angry or terrified.

You see now where Pollux is taking you—a giant stone obelisk stands proud at the end of the marketplace in a large clearing, and at the bottom of it is an extremely tall Fae with a crown on his head giving instruction to two smaller Fae.

“Pollux, Pollux!” you murmur urgently to him.

He ignores you.

“Ohhhh Aubergine!” Pollux yells in a sing-song fashion. “Guess what I found!”

He gives you a hard push and this time you fall to your knees. The tall Fae pinches the bridge of his nose before turning to actually look at Pollux. His gaze then falls upon you and your stomach knots with anxiety; he is breathtakingly beautiful. His ice blue eyes are accentuated by his dark purple skin, and his hair is a beautiful silvery white. You scramble to stand under his intimidating gaze, but his countenance shows no emotion.

He looks back at Pollux, cool demeanor turning icy: “What have you done?”

“Saving this poor human from the woods, obviously,” he replies, unfazed by Aubergine’s chastising.

“You know the consequences of interfering with the mortal realm, and yet you refuse to take heed of the warnings.”

Pollux rolls his eyes: “Don’t be so dramatic. I found this one alone, miles from society.”

“I don’t care for your attitude, Pollux. You have stolen a human from their home to which they can no longer return. Have you no sympathy?”

Pollux’s wings flutter angrily: “You’re just jealous that I caught one.”

“I have no need for jealousy—I just want you to understand the gravity of your actions.”

Aubergine turns to you: “On behalf of the Fae realm, I apologize for the actions of Pollux and what it has led to.”

Before you can say anything, Pollux grabs your arm and starts dragging you away from the Fae, muttering angrily under his breath.

“I’ll show him…”

“Ouch, Pollux,” you say, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “You’re hurting me.”

Pollux halts and lets go of you: “I’m sorry....he just really gets under my skin.”

“Who is he?”

“Prince Aubergine of the Fae realm. He basically just makes sure everything runs smoothly...and that rules are followed absolutely.”

“Oh, yeah I noticed his crown.”

He looks at you with a smirk: “He’s pretty handsome, isn’t he?”

You feel your cheeks get red: “I mean sure but it’s like...whatever!”

Pollux pinches your cheek: “I’m just playing with ya, don’t worry. Come on, I’m gonna show you my place.”

You follow him to a facade of white marble columns draped in luminescent fabrics. You take the large marble stairs up to a wall of drapes. Pollux parts the wall and gestures you inside with a highfalutin smile.

The inside is a large room with white marble flooring, gossamer fabrics billowing in the breeze at the outer borders. Some expensive-looking sofas sit near the middle of the room as what could be an elegant area for hosting, and a large bed waits at the very back, dressed in red linens. It was a bedroom fit for a king; and you get the strongest feeling that you don’t belong here.

Pollux is looking at you with a searching expression, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

You go up to a sofa almost in a trance and lay your hand on it, feeling the smoothness.

“Wow,” you whisper.

“What was that?” Pollux says, appearing suddenly behind you and making you jump.

You put a hand on your chest to slow your heart: “It’s amazing—what else do you want me to say?”

Pollux puts his hands on your hips and moves in close: “My bed’s pretty great too.”

Your heart jumps to your throat and you instinctively put your hands up between you two: “I’m sure it is, but it’s a no from me.”

Pollux sighs and releases you: “One day, pretty thing. One day.”

“I highly doubt that,” you mutter.

Pollux then flies over the seating area to plop down onto his bed. He stretches loudly and then turns to you.

“Very well, very well. Fetch me some food then.”

You feel your body engaging under his control but are confused: “Where do I even get food?”

“The booths near the entrance, darling. Someone will help you—oh! But first,” he says flying to the cabinets behind the sofas. “Let’s get you out of those clothes!”

He pulls out a pair of pants with an elastic-like waistband and leg cuffs: “These should fit you well.”

“I don’t need to change my clothes—”

“It’ll be fine; it’ll help you fit in better.”

“I doubt that,” you mutter under your breath.

He gives you a stack of clothes and crosses his arms, looking at you expectantly.

“Fine, I’ll wear them, but you can’t watch,” you demand.

“Alright, alright,” he says holding up his hands appeasingly. “I’ll go...here.”

He then goes to his bed and throws the covers over his head so there’s only his feet showing.

“Is this alright with you?” He asks, voice muffled from the sheets.

You don’t answer him and instead just start getting dressed. You pause for a breath because you don’t know what to do about your binder, but in the end you just decide to leave it on. 

You look over at the lump of sheets where Pollux is hiding and shake your head confusedly. For a Fae who could do anything he wanted with you, he certainly doesn’t as much as he could. And for a second, you are almost grateful.

“Okay,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “I’m done.”

He sits up, sheets ruffling up his hair: “Well now, you look fantastic.”

Standing there, clutching yourself self-consciously while dressed in foreign clothes, you most certainly do not feel that way.

“Now, go get me some food, and be snappy!” He commands lightly.

You straighten up and leave the room without another word, wandering the path where you had been dragged by Pollux—and notice someone coming towards you.

Prince Aubergine.

Heat rises in your cheeks and you clutch your arms in reaction.

Just relax it’s fine, you’ve done nothing wrong…………….right?

You wonder whether to ignore him or give him a nod in deference and decide to go with the latter.

He watches you with icy, unrevealing eyes, but passes by you without saying anything.

You feel your blood pumping to your ears and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Alright, it’s over….now where do I get food?

Reaching the clearing where the booths were located, you are again met with stares.

“Uh—um. Pollux requested food. Is this where I can get some?”

After a beat, a kind fairy with dark skin and bright yellow eyes fetches a plate full of various fruits from one of the booths.

“This’ll do fine, hun. Pollux isn’t picky when it comes to food,” she says warmly.

“Th-thank you very much!” you sputter, taking the extravagant tray of food. You look around quickly and then do a quick bow as you rush away with your quarry.

On the way back you have more time to inspect the plate in all its glory: fruits with lustre and golden skin adorned the plate like a display fit for royalty. You are tempted to eat one, just to see what it would be like, but you remember the tales and decide against it.

I guess the Fae really do live in luxury. 

As you approach the front with the plate, you hear two voices speaking in a repressed passion.

“I knew you couldn’t stand being away from me,” says Pollux.

“Of course I care about you, how could I not?” says the second.

“You only care about getting some, and I’d be okay with that if you didn’t treat me like I’m a fool when we’re not being intimate.”

“There are rules to be followed and you treat that as if they’re mere suggestions!”

“See, just admit you love controlling me more than you love me and get it over with.”

You trip.

On one of the curtains.

Fruit goes everywhere.

But you see.

Pollux.

And...Prince Aubergine.

Looking up from where you are on the ground, you scramble up, sputtering apologies.

Pollux storms over to you, face unreadable. He takes you…….and dips you, pressing a kiss on your lips. Pulling you back up on your feet and leaving you bewildered.

But the look.

On the Prince’s face.

It barely cracked the surface, but you saw it.

Heat.

Heat in those icy blue eyes.

What does it mean?

Pollux picks up a glittering pear that lay on the ground next to his feet, he brushes it off on his clothes, and takes a bite, juice dripping down his chin.

“Still tastes good to me,” he says cheerfully, laying an elbow on your shoulder as if the whole interaction never happened.

The Prince sighs, shaking his head, and leaves, stepping around the scattered fruit. Pollux eyes him the whole way, not even trying to be clandestine.

Before he exits he looks at Pollux: “We’re not done talking.”

[ask-elementalhermitcraft]

Dance With Me ‘Til The Sun Comes Up

(1k, fluff, mod seagrass)

“This will be a disaster, Joe. And I’m excited.” You completely agree. [a joe and cleo centric fic where they just have fun and dance the night away.]

You tip your imaginary hat, and laugh. It sounds like the world is laughing with you, you think, and you laugh louder. The sun is rising, sparkling rays over the far-beyond-but-still-near hills, and you rise with it. Stand taller, offer a hand, get ready to spin and twirl one last time.

The dance floor is smooth crystal, the sky above is a glimmering ocean, and you are ready to dance with the world if asked. “Play it, Joe!” She laughs. Her smile’s like an old friend, and you laugh with her. “Hey, let me ask you a Very Secret Question.” She puts emphasis on odd places, but it’s so funny you can’t stop laughing. Choking out a “What”, you stumble over to the jukebox.

“...Do you think, if we killed Doc, we would get a music disc? I mean, obviously that’d be a massive social faux pas, no?” She’s nearly in tears now, struggling to get words out.

You’re much in the same state. “I think it’d be a little more than a SOCIAL faux pas, Cleo. Just maybe.”

Howling. “I mean, I mean. Of COURSE, but don’t tell me you’re not at least a little curious. Just a little. Now, doesn’t mean I’m going to do it, I’d be killed like a little twig. But, skeletons are technically undead right?” She’s almost manically excited about this idea, and you find yourself getting swept up.

“Where’s this going, Cleo,” you say. You know exactly where it’s going.

“Okay, so, let’s say a skeleton just happens to wander into Doc’s base. And it just happens to have diamond armor. And it just happens to shoot him. What do you think happens then, Joe,” she says. “THE PEOPLE DESERVE TO KNOW!”

You’re giggling, almost, imagining the situation. “Okay, so first of all—” Cleo’s barely holding it in. “First of all, have you listened to Disc 13? Just a preliminary question.”

She’s confused for a split second, before deciding to just roll with it. “Yeah, what of it?”

“I’ve heard theories that it’s the hidden creature in minecraft, coming for us, or that it’s a harbinger of what’s to come. You’ve heard those too, right?” you say in a creepy whisper.

“...Joe, darlin’, I’m not 11 years old.” Her voice is exasperated, but you both know that she’s just waiting for the ball to drop.

“And neither am I. Point is, the person on the disc? That’s about to—Stop laughing, you’ll make me laugh—THAT’S ABOUT TO BE US! THAT’S GOING TO BE US, CLEO, SHOULD OUR GOOD FRIEND DOCTOR MONSTER SEVENTY SEVEN FINDS OUT WE KILLED HIM TO FIGURE OUT IF HE DROPS A MUSIC DISC.” You’re propped up against the jukebox, music disc in hand, desperately trying to keep it together long enough to put the disc in and figure out how to play it.

She’s almost crying from laughter. “DOCTOR MONSTER—You think he’s actually a doctor? What’d he major in, electrical engineering?” It sets the both of you two off into hysterics, and you turn away to try to gather yourself.

“Cleo, we’ve got to—we’ve got to get this music in,” you choke out. “Weren’t we gonna dance to celebrate our successful prank?”

With a hand wave, she says, “Yeah, yeah, hit it Joe!”

You fumble with the disc a bit, run your fingers over the grooves to feel their smoothidity (smoothidity? Smoothy-ness?) and slip it into the jukebox. The crackly intro sounds, and you both get into your pre-agreed upon positions—a weird sort of jitterbug for Cleo, and a traditional waltz posture for you. “This will be a disaster, Joe. And I’m excited.” You completely agree.

The opening cello strokes hit the crisp morning air, and you start moving your feet in time. 1-2-3 1-2-3, you chant, and keep a tight grip on her hand so you both don’t end up in a messy tangle of limbs. She’s in some sort of weird 7/4 time, jitterbugging to a beat neither of you can hit. It’s a disaster, you think, and it’s lovely.

You move around the narrow clearing you’ve created, at times spinning her and at times getting spun yourself. Faces blur together, the strings ring in your ears and the clarinet sings to the sky a song of god knows what. Cleo starts humming with the tune, you start harmonizing with her in a completely different key, and both of you desperately try to avoid breaking out in laughter again.

“1-2-3 1-2—Cleo, you’ve done it again. You’ve created a miracle and managed to make the one and only Joe Hills lose count of time,” you say, and she’s two seconds away from bursting out into full-on laughter. You’re still dancing, you think, but it’s starting to approach something a little closer to a worm wriggling than actual dancing. “I’ve got the power of order and even I can’t fix this,” you gesture helplessly.

“Well, why don’t we just use mine?” With a wave, zombies creep out of the woods nearby and take up all sorts of different dancing positions. Some of them are in something akin to his waltz, some are in traditional asian dances, some are about to do folk dances, and one particularly flamboyant fella is apparently, about to do the samba. “We’ve got a whole dance floor!”

“Alright, if you say so, Cleo. Dance time, part two!” You tap your foot, and the two of you start up the music.

Smooth saxophone sails through the air, and you two dance to the sun’s steady trek into its shining peak. You think you see the music in the air, you know you see your friend and her many minions dancing something that simultaneously doesn’t fit and works perfectly, and you see the joy and beauty of friendship. You pump your first in the air, yell “TO OUR VICTORY!”, and she follows suit.

It makes you want to dance more, dance and dance until the sun leaves again and you’re left with only the beauty of the moon to guide your hurried steps. But all good things must come to an end, you think, as you withdraw your hand and start to clean up the jukebox. Although…you’ve still got another hour, so it might have to not come to an end so soon.

Cleo throws you another disc, the black grooves shimmering in the sun.  

[littlesoufflecafe]

One For The Road | Chapter 9 Cut Scene: “Karaoke, Billiards, and American Accents”

A/N: This is from an early draft of One For The Road, chapter nine! I knew I wanted The Doctor to hop up on stage and sing “Pretty Woman” to Clara at the end of this chapter, but building up to that scene and making everything flow nicely took a few tries, and this was the first of them. Please note that this cut scene (and many others of mine) end abruptly, as I usually don’t continue writing dialogue/descriptions if I don’t feel like they’re going anywhere. Enjoy!

-----

The last time Clara stepped foot in a place like this, the air was damp.

She had reluctantly dressed herself in an outfit she loved, smeared liner under her eyes for a smoky effect, and topped it off with a pair of Nina's three-inch pumps. It wasn't until she teetered across the threshold of the bar that she realized how little it mattered. If anything, she felt overdressed as she shouldered her way through the throng of university students, the hazy lights and overcasting scent of alcohol and sweat making anyone a fair target of attraction.

The anxiety in her bubbled and burst as she perched herself on the edge of a bar stool that had just been vacated, wisps of her fringe already stuck to her forehead by a thin layer of sweat. The twenty year-old had no interest in indulging herself in her legal privileges, but felt the need to conform to her own environment as she ordered a drink and focused on the bartender's hands as he prepared it.

The entire room felt saturated in everything—like a picture with a filter turned all the way up. Her friends had long since left her side to mingle as any other conventional student would, treading in lively waters when Clara couldn't even keep her head above the surface. She was drowning in a sea of gregarious extroverts and crystalline glasses and smoke, and wondered why on Earth anyone would want to spend time in this congested, miserable place.

This time around, it was nothing like that.

The Doctor kept his hand on the small of her back as he guided her into the bar, his gaze flicking to hers constantly, as if to confer that she was okay. The place was warm, kept alive by intimate pockets of conversation—held up by mainly business people with heavy eyes and loosened neck ties. It felt a lot more mature than the one she had been to in university, though Clara supposed that was a given. It was a Monday night, work hours were ending, and no one looked to be younger than they were.

"B-52?" a waitress with blonde bangs asked them upon entering, plucking a shot glass from the tray she was balancing on her shoulder. "It's on the house."

The Doctor shook his head politely, flashing the woman a quick smile. "No thanks, I'm the designated driver for tonight." He looked towards his companion. "You?"

Clara looked at the concoction—the way its layers separated in the shot glass like oil and water—and pursed her lips. "I'm good, thanks."

They found themselves a small table adjacent to the bar and ordered mozzarella sticks to share just as a band of college girls teetered up onto the stage, their faces flushed by the light of the karaoke projector as they balanced precariously on their skinny three-inch high heels. The leader of the group, a brunette wearing a silky pink slip dress, snatched the mic off of the stand as it blared slightly from the impact.

"This one goes out to our best girlfriend Brittney, who's turning twenty-two years young tonight!" she announced, the slur in her voice only partially noticeable as the crowd answered back with a series of claps and cheering. The beginning notes to Lady Gaga's 'Poker Face' filled the speaker system as the girls began to speak-sing the lyrics, their voices fading in and out as they tried to maneuver around the cramped stage in their stilts.

Clara picked a mozzarella stick from the platter that had just appeared before them and dipped it into the marinara sauce. "You were right," she said, taking a bite. "I can see why you find this fun."

The Doctor grimaced as one of the girls began molesting her hair. "You know, I've never actually watched one of these fully sober."

"Brittney sure is a lucky girl."

"Dear god," he murmured, face reddening as he turned to look at Clara. "That girl's breast is about to pop out of her top if she keeps doing that."

"Oh, no no no, you can't look away now," she urged, eyes glued to the stage in a sardonic sort of fascination. "They're just getting to the good part!"

She began bopping her head to the beat as the chorus went into full swing, the girls doing their best to enunciate their P's as The Doctor leaned over to whisper in her ear. "You don't need to lie and say that you're actually enjoying this."

"Oh no, I am loving this," she promised him, reaching across the table for another mozzarella stick. Her eyes were still affixed on the train wreck unfolding before them as she leaned over and took a sip of water. "Best decision I ever made, coming here. Thank you Doctor, I am feeling much better now."

He opened his mouth to object, but was stopped as the crowd—and Clara—erupted into revelry as the birthday girl herself hiked onto the stage without even bothering to use the stairs, her velvet dress shimmering under the light as she swung her linen napkin over her head like a lasso. And despite himself, The Doctor couldn't help but crack a smile, not because of the girls on stage, but because of the one sitting next to him. She did look relaxed, her features a mix of bewilderment and rapture. The young man couldn't help but adopt a similar expression. She was just that contagious when it came to him.

They bore witness to several more honorable performances, the two travelers singing along to the songs they knew, nodding their heads in support of the ones they didn't. It wasn't until an elderly couple began cooing 'Somethin' Stupid' by the Sinatras that the place began to subside from the hype, Clara's feet propped up on The Doctor's lap as she leaned back in her chair, mouthing the words silently.

He wanted to reach out for her in that moment, grab her hand and squeeze it before pulling her close to his chest so that they could dance, swaying in tune to the gentle, lapping waves of the music. What was stopping him? Fear, perhaps. Pure, unadulterated terror. Something he seldom faced when it came to taking chances. He didn't know what to make of it.

Gently lifting her sparkly feet and setting them back on the ground, he excused himself to go locate the toilet, resisting the urge to smack himself with each passing step. Idiot, idiot, he kept telling himself as he scrubbed his hands for the sake of having something to do, forcing himself to face his reflection in the foggy mirror. He saw a young man shriveling in his tweed coat, staring back at him.

"You are a coward," he murmured to himself, the words dying on his lips as a man with a red goatee pushed into the restroom with an unlit cigarette dangling between his lips. The Doctor mumbled out an apology before crossing the threshold again, not wanting to leave Clara by herself for too long as he desperately tried to derive another way to make her smile without making his intentions so overt.

He actually found it not a moment later, in the form of cue sticks and worsted green wool. Returning to the table with a wide smile on his face, The Doctor shared with the young writer his most recent discovery.

"Clara," he prompted excitedly, not even bothering to sit down as he jabbed a finger towards the back room. "They've got billiards here!"

His companion craned her neck to meet his gaze, wringing her hands atop the table as she stared at him with a blank expression. "Do they not have billiards back in London?"

"No silly, of course they do," he replied, blinking back in confusion. "Now come on! You can play me in pool," he urged, the smile on his face faltering as he saw that she wasn't budging. His shoulders slumped slightly.

"I haven't played in years," she admitted. "Stars, I don't even think I remember how to play."

"Even better! I can re-teach you."

Her gaze drifted towards the stage longingly. He rolled his eyes.

"Clara, watching drunk people make fools of themselves isn't having fun, it's being cruel," he accused, frowning as he beheld a thirty year-old man weep the lyrics of 'Time After Time.' "At least...get drunk with them. Spare them the judgement of the sensible person in the room."

She pursed her lips into the corner of her mouth, watching silently as the performer on stage gripped the microphone in an ardent desperation.

"Okay, I'll play you in pool," she muttered begrudgingly, standing from the table and following him towards the back room. It was a cozy space tucked behind a velvet-lined curtain, two sets of pool tables lined-up side by side. The Doctor beamed at the vacant of the two and immediately began teaching Clara the basics, from the history of the game to choosing the right cue stick based on one's size, in which he selected for her the shortest one. She appreciated the bit, although she swiped the thing from him more forcefully than intended.

She caught onto the rules fairly quickly and watched as The Doctor took the first shot, accepting his help for her first few turns before insisting she could do it herself. Her gaze had zeroed-in on the exact pocket she wanted the ball to go in when a party of four drew themselves to the adjacent table. A young man with tawny brown hair and rolled-up sleeves gestured to the abandoned pool game with his drink.

"Is this table taken?" he asked the two. The Doctor straightened from inspecting his own game, an idea bursting into his head at the last second.

"Nah man, it's all yours," he said casually, his voice lowering as he adopted an American accent. Clara was thrown as she made her shot, cursing under her breath as the ball flew past its intended target and smacked into the railing. No one seemed to notice her spasm, or the deception behind The Doctor's self-satisfied smirk, for that matter.

"Mind me saying, but I recognize that accent. Are you from New York?" the young man asked, setting his glass on the lip of the table as his friends began preparing their table. Clara drove her cue stick into the floor and eyed her friend in suspicion, The Doctor's face breaking out into the biggest smile she'd ever seen.

"Where else?" he proclaimed, gesturing towards Clara affectionately. "Me and the missus are actually on a road trip to San Fran, trying to catch the Giants game on Wednesday."

She didn't know what shocked her more—The Doctor continuing to refer to themselves as a married couple, or the fact that he actually knew when American baseball season was. Nevertheless, she couldn't shake the discomfort of this character he had devised on-the-spot, with his lack of flailing and naturally fluid stance. It was so unlike his actual self that she began to question what she really knew about him.

"So you guys are Yankees fans, I take it," the stranger surmised.

"We prefer the Mets," The Doctor admitted, no doubt having learned his two cents from Amy. Clara was at his side in an instant, her arm sliding into the crook of his in a rigid grip.

"Uh...Doctor?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you for a second?" she asked, a plastered smile on her face. She pulled him away from the conversation before he could respond, her mind burning with questions as she drove them towards the nearest corner and began whispering to him. It came across as more of a hiss than anything.

"What's with the accent?" she blurted, infuriated by the cue stick still in her left hand. She leaned it against the wall and set her hands on her hips. The Doctor's hands had retreated into his pockets, a sheepish grin on his face as if she'd just asked if he'd done something wrong. He shrugged.

"Thought I'd try it out, you know, be one with the locals," he whispered back excitedly, his natural accent returning to him as if letting her in on some sort of covert secret. "What do you think?"

Clara blinked. If she were honest, she'd have said it was good. Really good, even. "I dunno, it sounds like your voice plunged off the face of the earth, and it frightens me."

"Oh. Sorry," he said, furrowing his brow. A second passed before he asked, "But didn't you think it was at least a tiny bit cool?"

Her smile was askew as she folded her arms across her chest. "What, pretending to be someone else?"

"Pretending to be a New Yorker! Pretending that I actually know how baseball works! I was really convincing back there Clara, didn't you see?"

-----

Read the full fic here!

FanFiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12799845/1/One-For-The-Road

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14986580/chapters/34731947

[impvarjack60]

23 The Test

She let out a blood curdling scream as the blade swung to it's final destination, hopefully in a heart chamber. As much as I hated what she has become, I didn't want her to suffer, well not too much anyhow. As the blade neared her chest, there would be no way to stop it now, the deed had already been done, and the people of the Ark would be free.

Once the blade was a smidge above her heart, it exploded, sending shrapnel everywhere. The shards nicked me all over, including the face. She however was untouched, and still very much alive. The impact blew me off her and onto the floor, the doors swung open and guards had me in their grasp. I had failed, and now I would probably die, or worse.

"Congratulations, 'King' Michael, you passed! I'm so happy for you, sweetheart!!" She ran up to me and gave me a big kiss and a hug, then when she backed off she was stomping her feet, pumping her fists in the air, and sounding just like the excited little girl she used to be. "You shoulda' seen your face!, you were all like, 'GRRRRRRR!!!', and so soon too, I love you!!" My jaw was on the the floor, what the fuck just happened here? "Queen Anna, what's going on here? I just tried to murder you, and you're standing there looking like you just won the lottery!" "Oh, you can just shit-can that Queen stuff, and in a way, I just did!" Her voice went into that childish high squeak. She could barely contain her excitement.

"Am I on crazy pills?, ANNA, I JUST TRIED TO KILL YOU!!"

"No Prince Michael, you sacrificed your life for your people, and saved them from a tyrant. Like any strong, selfless leader would." Her voice was now stoic, and somber. "Oh, shit,... this was another test." "Guards, let him go, and clear the room." "Are you sure that is wise, your highness?" "Please do as I instruct." "By your command." Then she held her hand up to her mouth and whispered; "Battlestar Galactica stuff,... pretty cool huh?" The room cleared, and we were alone.

"My God, Anna. This has to be one of the most elaborate ruses in human history, why did you go though all this?"

"We had to be sure, Michael. Keep in mind there were no battles for you to win, no countries to be conquered, no dragons to be slain, and no Excalibur to be pulled from a stone. You were a mess, Prince Michael, and now look at you! You gave up your life for people you barely know, to save them from the same horrors they prayed to be rescued from. You delivered them from evil." "But why you?" "Who would you have the most problem killing, Michael? A complete stranger, or me?" "But I watched you BEAT people!" "Same shield technology as this necklace, he didn't feel a thing." She touched a button on the center of it and a slight shimmer appeared briefly over her body. "All actors Michael, you said we should put on a play, what do you think of our performance?" "I RAPED YOU!, do you hear me? I RAPED YOU! I don't know if I can ever get over that." "Rape usually refers to an unwilling victim." "Oh my God Anna, you enjoyed that?!" "Well, um,... I'm sorry Michael, I do remember some of the porn you watched. Plus the fact that you are totally buff right now." She started running her fingers up my arms, then she gently wiped the blood from the cut on my face, and tasted it as she stepped back.

"Do you also remember how I avoided any porn that reminded me of you?! I couldn't bear the thought of treating you that way." "None the less- I still liked it- at least consider breaking out that animal again." "Anna, I don't know if I can fully recover from this, I plunged a knife into you in a murderous fervor." "Yes,... for all the right reasons." "This is going to take some time." "I know, but how do you feel right now, after the fact? I don't see you drowning in tears right now." My God! She was right!, I should be in full blow meltdown mode right now. Deep breath. "So, partners then?" It's all I could think of at the moment. "Yes." "Ugh.... I can't help but love you." "And I have always loved you."

Kisses, hugs, joy. They would slowly return. Once again, another life changing event. But I have some mighty big shoes to fill, and this is not over yet.

__________________________________________________

I spent the night in my room. Anna was camped out in the room beside mine. She wanted to be close, just not in the same room as I. Truthfully, I was all for this idea. We needed some space, just not too much space. We went down to the kitchen in the morning, it was all medieval looking, disguising the replicator. Breakfast was kinda' somber, but it was time for some questions.

"So, how was all this planned out?" "We had a few meetings when you were,......away. They voted for me to be Queen." "But why a monarchy? It seems kinda' old fashioned, and tyrannical, as demonstrated over the last few days." "That's the thing, Michael. When things go bad, monarchies suck, and history is full bat shit crazy monarchs. But when the King and Queen are benevolent, they have the best track record of any government style in history. We have done some research while you were away." "Speaking of away, just how long was I gone?" "Four months." "You said it would be three, and Olaf said I was out for eighteen." "Well,.... we had some problems getting this joint ready, and they said they could tack on an extra four centimeters to your height." She was squirming when she said this. "Your totally into this beefcake thing, aren't you?" "I'm sorry, Michael. This is what I'm physically attracted to." She was once again running her fingers slowly up my arm, with a look of allure in her eyes. "So,... You didn't like me before?" "Did I ever once appear to not like you, until you went off the deep end? I loved you then, I love you now. I'm just more attracted to you in this form. Your brain chose this form- ya know- the one with the freckles, and the tiny breasts?" "OK, far enough. Just keep in mind, this is not my ideal self." "Good point, this isn't about you, it's about them. When you look at yourself in the mirror, think about how the people will look at you, this is to keep them satisfied, and me?, just as a bonus. OK?"

She is becoming a treasure trove of wisdom, at the age of eight months. Ten years from now, she will be a formidable queen.

"I guess I'm not in any position to argue, I should be swinging on a rope at noon." "And instead, we have a coronation to plan, King Michael, and a wedding!" "Hopefully not here!" "Yea, speaking of which, we'll be going back home for a month or so while Castle Greyskull here gets a makeover." "How much say do I get in the remodeling?" "Practically none, I'm going to be the Queen, Hunky Man." With that she sat in my lap, and stroked my stubbly face, while batting those giant lashes at me. "Deal, but I want a large study, somewhere where my big speakers can breathe. And a sign on the door that says; 'No Girz Aloud'." "Deal, shake on it?" "Done and done." "There's some things I want to show you before we leave, come on!" So we go out to the back green space, it was all fenced in meadow, off to the side was an outbuilding, a stable. She was practically skipping out to it. "Whatcha' think, huh?! Can I bargain or what?!" It had stalls for eight horses. Wow, she could sell ice cubes to Inuits. "I told them Royalty simply had to have horses." "I suppose I'll be learning to ride?" "Damn straight!" "But so will you." "I was born to ride." That you were, Princess. "Got one more thing to show you." She took me to a large set of doors in the courtyard. "Ya ready?" "Hit me." She opened the doors,... Bicycles! A dozen of them, even had one in my frame size, which was now quite large. These were the lightest bikes I've ever felt. When I went to pick mine up to get it out of the rack, I practically threw it in the air, I guess it weighed two kilos. "Thank you, Anna." "I know how much you wanted one,..and after all you been thru..." God, how absolutely selfless can one person be? Ten hours ago I was plunging a knife into her. "I'm assuming you don't know how to ride one of these things?" "Way ahead of you, Silly Buns." She hopped on one and took off around the courtyard. "I've been practicing." "So I see." She didn't want me showing her up when I got back, clever girl. "We've got one more thing to attend to before we split,... Olaf!" "Yes, m' lady." "Summon the cast." "By your command." Damn, even Olaf is on a leash. "Let's go to the balcony." So we went back into Drearyland, up the steps and down the hall to the balcony. All of the people involved in the test showed up, in there tattered costumes. Anna shouted over rail; "All hail King Michael!" "Hail, King Michael!" went two hundred voices, booming off the courtyard walls, followed by cheers and clapping, I so wanted to cry, but I can't. I must show strength. I am however, finding it easier to hold back emotions now. So I just waved- but I have to wonder- is this what they wanted? It seems like it. They all went thru with this charade, now they sing my praise. Months ago, when I gave my speech, I figured the most authority I would get would be heading some committee. Now look at me, waving at my loyal subjects, who can't wait to led in some meaningful direction, at the dawn of a new civilization. By the future King.

Then the Princess made an announcement.

"Once the castle has received it's rightful decor, there will be a big party. Everyone in the Habitat is invited, and the drinks are on me!" Once again, cheers erupted. "Please, go back to your homes and be at peace, I will be sure to reward each and every one of you for your sacrifice in the time of Prince Michael's trial, and from the bottom of our hearts, we thank you! Long live King Michael!" "LONG LIVE KING MICHAEL!!" It was absolutely thunderous, I'm assuming by design. we waved to the crowd and they disbanded. It was time for us to go. "Let's put on some riding clothes, shall we?" So we got some proper attire for the ride to the Pulaski house, it was time to go home...

[imitzeha-blog]

Ode To The Orgasm

I.

 It starts with rubbing.  Tentatively at first.  Gently.  As if doing it for the first time.  Skin brushing lightly over skin.  Slowly.  

Then something inside starts to become hot.  It becomes frantic.  It becomes wet.  Something quiets down inside and there’s blank dark spaces bouncing around with each throe with each thrust with each lull.  

 Then a scream bursts inside and it's eternal with no beginning. with no end.

 And the body is full of electric blue convulsions

 bucking from where the waist meets the torso

 and pieces of the brain begin to die

 begin to become little deaths

 and then...

 blossom.

 Waves of warmth blooming all around

 and the universe shudders 

 and there’s flashing colours

 flash. red. flash. black.

flash. red. flash. black.

 and everything shakes

 forever

 until it breaks.

 Shatters.

 with only remnants of ecstasy left behind

 and in a curtain of oil-slick shimmers the world settles back into view

 just like coming out of a dream

 and everything is hot.

sticky.

wet.

 II.

 Ode to the bloodrush shooting up to thine ears how they flutter in such tiny spaces to hide their lustful longing amongst their thought so concealed taboo and every dire and hatred and little stabs at the timeline of everything that it means to be to be to be here

 and the song of the cosmos came thriving for how long?

 yes how long....

     upon

             that wavering blue line that was oh tiny squeezed lustful noises

to full on chest heaving no breath left

 and then 

 like the god’s pause their every motion for just the briefest of no time

      you

are swirled into a thread entwined upon our most ancient and longed for entropy that was the great idea of the warped vision that was

sweet dreamings and touchings oh your touch! those little grazes! the light and pure essence gleaming from thou who was nestled in the side of my mind that was the embodiment of all that was positive glowing light experiences I had had mostly with females but we have almost divine interactions all amongst our brothers and sisters and mothers that were yes that were every aspect of my perceiving the tingling unanimous harmony that is life and why do we who feel just as much as the

 individual human the

I am he that stays him

and this i have been and know it to be so

this i have been and shall shut my eyes 

and cease moving of my own accord in

and become as the flesh of planet earth

the cells of its epidermis

that die

that recycle

 and become also 

put into with

everything to the greatest limits of your wildest thoughts trapizing throughout the lost islands of beyond comprehensible thought

 to come yes where

why are we driven to sing

by our need to manipulate every little dot of existence around

to dance in the pleasure of each sound that we feel through all our sensations

that become concentrated with the in and out tidal inhale exhale of those shining

moonlight eyes like twin sparks that penetrate in our most sacred and yet blissfully profane dance that comes with joinment

 and how we sing. and how we sing.

 all of us in time together 

the rhythm of the very tiny

very ordinary

the very wondrous and mundane and 

no

we shall no longer

no

can no longer fathom

for we pull each other

 and all i see is you

they whisper

quiet by the morning calms gray dawnlight

just peeking over static horizons

pillow soft

the sound echoes

from somewhere behind their eyes

one of them kisses the other

 and there it is

both of them reel from one another

penetration and wriggling 

almost like worms

almost like fighting

almost barbaric 

tearing into each other

leaking our liquids all over every inch

moving in the throes of what is that old word

like we’re producing it

just pumping it out

a whole fucking factory

they pray to spill

 here their hearts in between the shuddering moans of climactic strain sing with the very core the essence the center

 the diamond

or is soul a better word

it is the person as they are

laid bare

naked

utterly true

 they sing it so passionately and with such yearning it is a ink-black blasphemy

an injustice

that they are unable to scream it happily in the streets

while everyone out

can gaze steadily at their peers

and no hand was raised

of course everyone would speak

and sometimes laugh and dance

sometimes make music 

the focused kind on fancy wooden instruments

for it is summer and their happiness soaks the ages and eons from the time of

electric guitar music

orchestral tunes

the first sound of the cosmos

spilling into a peaking sun-yellow shining longing

misting down as that long forgotton

but still longed for

childhood daze

but we try to peer through the lens

its dirtied up and hard to see

so the best thing

is here

in these streets of our heart’s desire

outlined now in this ode

for the lands floating upon this blue pearl’s surface

 such a shame

especially while the two are screaming

its like

its like

a damn plastic wall

separating the one thing you can only feel

dare we say it

dreaming

but

you know

more so

when

we re

close 

to

well

,,,

death

but that is the overall frustration and sometimes overwhelming disappointment in life at times is it not?  events surrounding one are in beyond worse than imagined circumstances and in these naive first felt hard emotions a young person as i write i shall admit i am not twenty three yet only a few years ago death seemed a plausible solution

 things have changed greatly in a few years

 we write this to fully illustrate our overall hopes and longings

no matter our negative and tragive witnessings in this life 

or blatant disregard like stone eyes

ignoring death and rot and rape

and being inhuman

as in we call each other sub or non human

yet 

here we cling

to a fragile sphere whirling through space

with a galaxing full of star systems

too many to imagine

number of planets?

it would take forever to figure out

all this is circling around a supermassive black hole

 all this being attracted to the Great Attractor

which is unknown at this time period

 dragging every observable galaxz\y at speeds that are

really

unimaginable

only understood through written symbols

and all this is made of particles as are we

that become waves and interact in

well

just look around

 and every pieace

by god its insane

its insane and gorgeous

every

little 

piece

every 

fucking

sound

thought

vibration

feeling

intangible

and too many possibilities

 we cannot understand in the box of what will forever be

ourselves

 but here

 finally

 i shall write it

 for i have prolonged it

 for the heart still keeps in clandestine misery

 stop

 listen

 lean closer

 look

 do you hear it?

 what it longs to spread?

 of course

 love.

 a passed on stream

that we see

 as a blossom with the creation of us

 i speak in third person for it is easier for me to think

 in these terms when writing of matters larger than myself

 that i am so intrinsicly entwined in

 oh how curious we can be

 oh how we can go about lives

 is it a trick that we lose our spark for the chaotic puzzle

 the jigsaw

 where each of us somehow connects

 but even deeper

 hidden pipes

 clear

 full of thoughts and songs

 moving in swirls and spirals and songs and feelings and touch

 and finally after all this motion and tumultuous building

the welling of thoughts from a thought to be hidden 

 unknown dimension connected by those dancing intangible filaments

 or where they colourful geometric towers peaking as moutains to the very tip of heaving sensation into everyting i miss 

that is the embodiment of all

of ALL desire

for there to be only

how did that one really beautiful one say it

 ah yes

the girl named for an herb that is perfect in any song

how innocent she was

how she said the words of everything that we crave

 no matter what a momentary burst of annoyance can cause

 in an immature soul that still struggles to move forward and become

 the compress of all its potentials

 the greatest

 most delicate and strong

 and humorous but magnificently realized in its confidence the is as no fear

 but that anger felt in its extremes are

 you fucker

 i hope everything is shit for you

 for the one thing you caused me

 oh how we loathe it!

 for she put it best

 I wish everything was sunshine and rainbows.

 she may have said more

maybe of there not being any bad things

 which would be fitting

would be nice

 and that anger we tell ourselves

is not us

 or perhaps just a part

 we can grow to not loathe

not quite embrace but one would be hesitant to say it is

but we can accept

 and feel it yes

 but learn it

 and react the way we consciously choose

and find proper diverts 

 to well you know

 get rid of the bad vibes

 all that hate

 aint at all great

 a long journey or was it short?

 well there we are now.

 two beings made of...

what?

 science claims perhaps dust from an everlasting superparticle

 but who knows

 there are mysteries alll around

 but it is good is it not

 that at least here

 in this time we pour our inner mutterings

 our typing which is as chattering crabs on a black chesspiece

 like ink splattered scribblings i used to make on

 something reflected in a neon beam reminiscent screen

 and that is the beauty of being just me

 as you read this perhaps it also applies to you

 and i use the hopes we that

 we are not islands of sensationalization

our even more worisome

 a product of a dustmote nothing cosmic fart debris

 but i am i

 and i can be joyous

 pushing and pulling

finding the secret moving of the things all around i call words as we touch

and get some wonderful piercing and muffled feelings

from every picture behind my eyes and buried as molten nervous 

 want for not i but yes in the sense of just me

 just you

 whoever reads this

however

 i write this as bleach bone bare in the pillowy sand dunes of a twilight desert

 to feel

 with each other

 pour everything we have 

 to know each other

 and

 reach an intimacy like the fruit of Eve’s forbidden tree

 only a few here and there as if there were not enough made for each lifetime

 and each person is left wondering

 was there more?

 but who knows

 everyone is different 

 and that is probably the way it is supposed to be

 its more fun that way right?

 when its hard to breathing

 and this stranger is somehow an extension as much you one to them

 as one you move

 and our beings clench together

 we leave a little piece of that in us

 that can forget everything

 and be a pure

 moment

somehow still and

 lets be honest

never forgotton

 no matter what else happens

 the connections were made

 and i have seen into the spaces

the tiny ones

and of course your darkly bright gleaming eyes

 as you have into mine

 and thus we are a synapse of sensation

knowing and leaving a trace of this act

 and from our eyes

 it makes us just who we are

 you and i

 in the moment

at last ?

for the first time?

always there just unnoticed?

 and we were a verse together

the whole songs been recording for too long for anyone to remember

 and no ones stopped it

so we havent listened to much of it except with other devices

 so its nice though

and it soothes every inch of us

 and i can say this safely

yes?

 is it longing that pushes the key.

you are there

maybe not a one

maybe no anyone

perhaps

it is first inner

the perhaps both?

 and it is finding your function is it not?

 to get lost in the treachorous and beatiful archives of an existence so cruel as not to show you but in equally clueless humanoids to point you in the right direction

 which is why i conclude

as this is a personal entry

 i have been struggling for almost as long as i can remember

 and now i am torn

 i wish to be productive and well

 the thing is

 it has a lot of influence from the first stages of my development

 but i am the creator and

 even solo

 there is passion and joy

 and never really far a partner

 to do 

 incredibly exciting

little fake fights that were entirely sexual

 there are these things and the limits of being human are as an advantage

 of being able to explore a world 

an opportunity to feel and have adventures

 so the ode of spurts of thought searching from a frantic chest pumping blood with short meth breath god i have work too soon

 cant sleep

want to

 it is our ode

 we must live everyday as each day

to be felt in its own way

for experience dragged from hindsight to teach us

how to have a better tomorrow

 and as the sun and moon rise and fall

our movements become smoother

 i worry

 will it be less intense?

 i have heard there are ways to make it more

 if so it is a good life

 let a winter’s crystal clear single note tweaking a sleepy white melody 

come in its frosty attitude of

 nothing is out of reach

 and we become frigid

 we become only drying hope

 it is strange 

 i find

 these days i more or less fluctuate

 and the affair with myself is an extremes of negative to oh such a peaceful joyous feeling

 but with time and fantastic assistance i am much grateful of i feel just

 like i am able to overcome

 no not good all the time

 maybe thats impossible

 everytones got emotions.

 but we have sorted it out now.  and life becomes easier to handle iin stride

 and the passion that comes with music 

 and simply pleasures

 i wish there were no pains

 the pleasures come and are also

 what is the color that is the great writhing coitus of life with itself

 as a slender smooth cell eventually growing and changing and splitting to become multitude 

 like a god touching itself

 our universe the chronic masturbator

 living through itself and making

 unaware meat puppets

feeling itself through you and me

 but it is utterly human to be unknown of the realities of a spontaneous percepetion

 you trick of the light

you trick of the light

 foolish child they murmer

foolish child the murmer

 it is just

 there are no rewards

 and he was saddened but he lived

 and he found passion

found a love

found a livelihood

and was at peace

 so heed his actions

 the scraping nags of an inner complainer

 the paranoid little bug that crawls in your ear on its way to your brain.  tell it it has to know  its time is done

 for he trudged on

 and will always do so

 even in the mud up to his knees during a storm

 what else could he do?

 and it was the warmnth of the

 difficult to remember...

 her skin...

 she was beautiful.,..

 ppretttyy.....soofttt....

 but we shall not sink

 trudge and be close to breaking point

 but we shall keep climbing any mountain no matter how steep

 and it was the ultimate they were looking for

 love just a part

 the ultimate

 music just a part

 the ultimate

 happiness just a part

 the ultimate of peace.