#six x peri

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: A steampunk AU where all incarnations of the Doctor are professors at the same college. Most of the action takes place between 1863 and 1887, with a brief resurgence in 1905.

Author: @wordswithkittywitch

Note from submitter: This is a series of several fics, currently five of them but some are quite long.

[azenighty]

Omg I just realized why I'm getting drawn into the peri x irep ship-

LOOK!!

GO AHEAD AND TELL ME YOU DON'T SEE IT 😭😭😭

I have a problem

[shoshiwrites]

if you’re still looking for touch prompts, might i request doing a pinky swear (31) for jo and bucky?

- @parajumpboots 💜

Of COURSE, thank you so much, Peri! I got to try out Gale and Benny for this one, biggest thanks to @mercurygray and @basilone for the much-needed assistance <3 From this list. Bucky Egan x WarCo OC.

The jacket is only a little bit too big.  Someone had wrangled it for her off a bombardier who wasn’t going up today, the collar smelling like aftershave and a faint layer of sweat. She’s a little too warm here on the ground, but soon, up above, it’ll be all she’s got, on top of the other layers that all combine to make it difficult to bend her arms at their usual angles. In the pocket she feels a coin, a single jack, some kind of chain, the metal cool against her fingers. She lets them be. “So,” says Bucky, and he should be Major Egan now, to her, here on the tarmac. In his own jacket and crush cap, looking all of that rank and an inch on top. “You’ll be in Buck’s plane.”

Don’t focus on me, she wants to say. I don’t know why they’re letting me up, but they are, and none of you are supposed to know I’m there. Fat chance of that. “Yes,” she says. Yes, sir, she supposes it should be. Training had gone by in a blur of a week, half like some kind of absurdist play and half like the life and death situation that it was. Is. Fuck. A reporter from The Post was taking it too, he’d be going up next week. And his photographer, who’d been nagging Jo for a few shots until the instructor had told them to can it. “Nervous?” She rocks back and forth once on her heels. “Maybe.” “Don’t be. Listen, Gale’s bird — that’s where you wanna be.” Her mouth twitches, almost like a smile. “Good thing that’s where I am, then.” Gale, all six-foot-unruffled of him, walks up. “Right, Major Cleven?” He looks at Bucky. “Oh, I’m Major to you now?” Bucky grins like a bullseye. “In front of company.” His friend sighs, just a little. “Let her breathe, John.” “Ah, alright. I promise though, Jo, you’ll be fine. How ‘bout you let me swear it.” She doesn’t understand. “Hold out your hand.” Gale looks half a step from intervening in whatever foolishness he thinks this is. “John.” Behind him, DeMarco paces around the nose of the plane.  Bucky looks back at her, nods exaggeratedly so she does too, looping his pinky around hers. Almost funny, if she looks at how much bigger his hand is than her own. “You’ll be fine.” She plays along, the silkiness of her scarf now a little too tight at her throat. “I’ll be fine.” “Exactly.” He walks her through another minute of procedure, meaning a detailed inventory of the good luck talismans on his person, and hers, and everything she should be paying attention to once they get in the air. “We’ll take it from here, John,” Gale says. Something about his voice already starts to slow her pulse. And off Bucky’s about to go, to check the things that really need checking, the plane that Jo doesn’t examine too closely for fear of realizing it’s a tin can with wings. Well. Maybe that was already a fact. He shouts over Gale’s head so the two of them hear, Cleven and DeMarco. “You take care of our girl, Benny, hear me?” Something buzzes between her ears and she can’t tell what it is, the sudden sensation of her heart in her chest or the too-warm lining of the jacket or our girl or any of it, but Cleven is as calm as a tide-pool, on the runway there in his sunglasses. DeMarco offers her a stick of the same gum he’s chewing on his back teeth. “You ready?” “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”  He lets the air out of his nose, surely wishing for a day that doesn’t involve babysitting a jumpy correspondent. “You’ll be fine, just don’t touch anything.” “Roger wilco. Captain.” She thinks he smiles at that, and maybe she isn’t totally hopeless. He nods towards the plane, the thing they trust more than almost anything. “C’mon. We saved you a seat.”

[diggitydoggo]

Hi! I saw on your TikTok that you have this Digital Circus X Little Nightmares crossover au with a friend of yours. Didn’t know you were into LN! I wanted to ask, what are Tammi and Mono’s interactions like? Is Mono scared of Tammi cause she’s essentially a tv head? What about six? Does she exist in the au?

Oh yeah the Little Circus AU! I don't talk about it often but I like it a whole bunch! (The OC brainworms have fully infected me)

At first Mono was very closed off from everyone until Tammi slowly gained his trust. Now they're more like mother and son. With Kaufmo as the uncle that has a weirdly close relationship with the mom.

As for Six she does show up later on but her relationship with the two of them is very...complicated.

I do a lot of crossover stuff with my friend Peri if you wanna check that out. (It's mostly other Tammi AU's but they were still fun to make together)

[timperi-fan]

Peri was inspired by Cleft the boy chin wonder wasn’t he?

No.

Is Timmy a college student here? Working at the fast food restaurant after classes to make some money?

Yes and yes.

What would Timmy be at school for? Game coding, electronics classes, art, law student, etc?

Timmy's major is undecided at the start of the story, and he eventually drops out to devote himself to becoming a hero.

Is this more of an X-men Au? They have characters with x genes, magic, with both, or non at all.

Kind of, I suppose. Heroes come from all sorts of backgrounds. But this AU has little to do with Marvel or DC, because I don't know anything about either of those properties.

I wonder how Timmy got adopted by Wanda and Cosmo?

It's a perfectly average story, really! After trying for years to have a baby, Cosmo and Wanda became foster parents. Timmy was four when they started fostering him, and they couldn't bear to let him go, so they officially adopted him when he was five.

Timmy's last name was legally changed to Cosma on his tenth birthday, when Wanda and Cosmo officially "popped the question," so to speak. He was delighted!

How much older is he than Peri?

Peri was born when Timmy was six years old. Cosmo honestly had no idea that he was pregnant until he went to the hospital for pain and they told him that he was in labor!

Did his power still cause the couple to have Poof/Peri?

Timmy has no powers. He's entirely human.

Why is Peri the only superhero? I imagine both parents have magic as well. Are they retired?

Peri isn't the only superhero, but he IS the most famous/powerful one in the area.

Cosmo and Wanda were heroes themselves when they were younger (that's how they met), but retired when they started fostering. Kids are a lot of work!

[dickfics69]

Emotional Motion Sickness (A Rickyl fic) | Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9

AO3

rick grimes x daryl dixon

Summary: Daryl gets sick before a supply run, and denies it vehemently. He is a big tantrum baby. Rick is constantly worried and drama ensures.

Chapter summary: Tensions rise and fall in the car. Daryl struggles to maintain his weak homeostasis. And yeah, the ghost of Merle Dixon appears.

BIG PHAT TRIGGER WARNING: Emetophobia, if you do not want to read this kind of sickness pleas skip the paragraph that starts with "on the brink of collapse" and ends with "breathing rapidly through his mouth"

Warning for homophobia and homophobic slurs. There are only a couple but they are real and exist and could be triggering.

my Daryl Dixon playlist

Chapter 4: All the world is still, hands on the wheel

“It’s just too damn risky, Daryl!” Rick sat in the passenger seat, a faded map sprawled out across his lap, which was covered in tiny red circles.

“Why? It’s onde of the only places we aind’t hit yet! It’s probably a damnd goldmine.” Daryl argued back, keeping his exhausted eyes fixed on the road, wary of falling asleep if he so much as blinked. 

The journey had barely begun, and already, the two men were bickering again.The other occupants of the Jeep would have been more than satisfied to listen to the unsteady hum of the ancient motor, but granted, watching nearly middle aged men arguing was significantly more entertaining. Rick huffed loudly, growing increasingly irritated with the snuffling man to his left.

But, the hunter had a point. In the past month, Sasha and Michonne had gone and scouted anywhere within a 60 mile radius worth of looting. They’d covered a lot of the spots in the last couple of weeks but there were a few bounty-laden abodes that still alluded their footprint. This house was one of them. A turn of the century red-brick mansion awaited them like an unsuspecting sitting duck, cloaked in numerous years of abandon and overgrowth. She sat there, neglected and begging for attention, precious supplies within going to waste.

“You know what Michonne said about it.” Rick warned. “There’s too many on the outside alone, we’d need five or six of us at least to clear ‘em.” He felt Daryl rising to argue back and held steadfast to his cause. “Look, let's just go to the place off-of route ninety one, see what’s there and if we got time tomorrow, we can circle back and check the house.”

“Rick I jus-”

“What’s off route ninety one?” Peri interrupted, piping up from behind the driver, ignoring the optic daggers that Daryl was angrily directing at her.

“An army surplus and a baby supply store.” The Deputy supplied.

“Wow, only in America eh?” She donned an abysmal American accent, inviting three very strange looks from the males in the vehicle.

“-Com’ond, that’ll add at least two extra hours onto the trip!” Daryl returned to the argument as though he’d never been rudely interrupted.

“What’s the rush, babe?” Rick asked smugly, knowing full well why his sick, stubborn boyfriend wanted to condense the run time. The ‘rush’ was that Daryl’s body was a ticking time bomb, threatening to explode with snot and phlegm and febrile sweat at any moment. The shaky man wanted to get the goods and go home, avoiding his own, very likely, disgusting spectacle. 

“Hmpf.” He grunted back, chewing on his thumb with rumination for a moment, patronising cerulean eyes boring into the side of his head. “We’ve dealt with worse Rick. We can take it, you ‘n’ me.”

They had and they could. Since the beginning of knowing, the pair had possessed an intimate chemistry, being able to communicate silently through gesture and purposed glances. Whether they were hunting or being hunted, Daryl and Rick moved effortlessly together, like a pair of keen eyed foxes in their natural habitat. The rugged pas de deux was lethal and unstoppable. So yes, on a normal day, the duo could take the house blindfolded. But ‘normal’ doesn’t continually drip with chartreuse-coloured snot. 

“Daryl, if you could see yourself right now…” He rubbed a frustrated hand through his beard. “You look like you’re gonna pass out any second!”

“Bullshit. I’mb finde.” Said with a poorly timed congested sniffle. But the stubborn man wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Look, you ‘n’ mbe are good. We got Carl and…she’s…well three outta four is more thand enough.” Daryl pleaded his case, forcefully ignoring the hard thump on the back of his seat. 

Rick let out a considered sigh, filled with contemplation and worry. Taking this house would be a great win for them, taking the pressure off the group for a few weeks. A few weeks to settle again. A few weeks for him and Daryl to finally exist as a couple. But it was full of risk. Peri was smart, agile and quick to kill, possessing precious medicinal knowledge that the group desperately needed. However, she was quick to anger and had only just started shooting her targets. Daryl was a man that Rick unwaveringly trusted with his life, but he was disgustingly ill and belligerent, and the Deputy lacked faith in his love to rise above the affliction. Then there was Carl. In a blink of an eye, the boy had become a man. He was able to defend himself and his family with swiftness and purpose. Rick had no doubts of his abilities, but it was Carl. His blood, his life, his purpose. He needed him and he needed to protect him. A rock and a hard place. Before he could decide, a familial voice came from behind him.

“Dad, we need this. It’s okay, we can take it.” The smaller Grimes man had joined the panel, providing his father with reassurance. 

“Huh..okay, fine!” He finally conceded. “But y’all do exactly as I tell you, are we clear?” The authoritative ex-policeman voice dominated the vehicle, receiving vocal responses from the back seat and a weak nod from the driver. It was settled.

Daryl made a mental note to thank Carl later. He had won this argument, not that it was a competition. The minute victory didn’t last long of course, as a soft burning started evolving in the hunter’s left nostril. For what felt like the millionth time that day, Daryl rubbed his nose hard, wincing at the skin to skin contact of the chapped, flushed skin. Another pitiful attempt to postpone the inevitable. He was well aware of how ridiculous he looked, violently scrubbing the side of his face, a loud squelching omitting from the up and down movement of his knuckles. Withdrawing his hand, he sniffled back as much as his congestion would allow, testing the waters. Unfortunately, Daryl’s vigorous efforts did not work. They never did. 

“Heh…heh…Hh’ExTChUu…Ngxxtsh…h’ngxt, ngxt, NGXXTch…heh…heh..Hh’EsTCHUU'!' He sneezed tiredly into his hand that was firmly clasped around his mouth and nose. Daryl was thankful that the fit was finally over, hoping that he didn’t swerve the vehicle too much in the process. A round of wary ‘bless you’s’ chorused from the other passengers, inciting a trademark grunt from the afflicted. An explosion of warm liquid was threatening to trickle through his fingers, bringing the man out of his tired, itchy haze, panicking slightly. Hand feverishly pressed to his face, he nervously glanced around for the handkerchief he had misplaced, while desperately trying not to run them off the road. Daryl was juggling much more than he had intended to today. 

“Here.” Rick offered, throwing the wet square of fabric over to the driver, face full of disgust and unease.

“Thankgs,” whispered the sick man, feeling the emotional sting as his partner scoffed, rolled his eyes and turned his attention out the window. ‘Whatever.’ He cleaned himself up to the best of the futile handkerchief’s ability, still feeling residual pain throbbing in his head from the sneezes ripping out of him a moment ago. Dabbing at his watery eyes, he remembered the slip of paper he had pocketed from Carl earlier. He handed it over to Rick.

“What’s this?”

“List of requests.” Daryl strategically used the shift in focus to blow his nose without added  scrutiny. A quick shiver ran through his body, as he lamented how little relief he got from the forced gurgle out of his sinuses.

“Alright let's see…kid’s books, towels, sweaters, orange soda? Man these are gettin’ specific! Toothpaste, Karma…who the hell needs the Karma Sutra?” A blush creeped through the Deputy’s cheeks.

“My guess is Maggie and Glenn,” Carl provided from behind a very flummoxed Rick. 

“Carl how…how..how d’ya…” He stumbled over his words, flustered. A snort amusement came from the left of him, as Daryl stifled a rare laugh.

“I think what your dad is so eloquently trying to ask you is, how do you know about that Carl?” Peri didn’t shy from the amusement she felt in this moment either. 

“I’m thirteen, but I’m not an idiot. I know what people get up to in the watchtower.” Rick choked on his own saliva, providing more hilarity for the rest of the convoy. He looked over to Daryl who wore a devious grin.

“Combe on Rick, it aind’t hard to figure out!” The driver spat out between giggles, sending the two younger passengers into fits of laughter. 

“Why choose that book? It certainly is a mouthful.” The curly haired brunette noted the assignment set from the man in front of her and relished it with vigour, receiving a chortle of approval from Daryl and Carl.

“Ah I dunno Peri, it definitely has some good tips!” Carl joined in too, accepting an immature high-five from the hunter. Rick sank further down in his seat, his discomfort an audible beacon for the jokes to keep rolling. 

They went on like this for longer than was probably necessary, but with the state of the world, moments like this were few and far between. So they laughed, savouring the reprieve from their day to day stressors. As the euphemisms dried up, Carl and Peri returned to a previous conversation, giving the pair in the front a chance to recollect themselves. In a much needed shift of mood, the merriment had cleared some of the congestion that plagued Daryl’s sinuses, allowing him to breathe a tiny bit. Of course this led to tremendous amounts of dripping which forced the man to disgrace the only dry section of the hanky he had left. He glanced up briefly to his love who was looking back at him, simultaneously bamboozled and amused.

“Y’all are fuckin’ filthy you know that?” Rick finally uttered, quiet enough for just the two of them.

“You loved it.” Daryl retorted and glanced at the backseat in the rearview mirror. “Alrigh’ maybe not from them.” He boldly reached out his right hand and stroked his partner's inner thigh when he knew the other two weren't watching, and inched upwards until the other man shifted hard in the seat. Rick placed his own hand over the other, breathing in the arousing contact. 

“I’ll keep my eye out.” Daryl squeezed down tightly with his right hand, eliciting a shuddering gasp from the other man. “Could be a very handy little read.” He held his hand against the growth in the front of his partner’s jeans. He lingered there for a moment longer before returning his hands and eyes to the road. Daryl noted his own arousal and he could sense the similar burning to his right as Rick tugged awkwardly at his pants, crossing his legs to absolve the evidence.

“Just drive, you idiot.” Said with a whisper and a smirk. A shiver ran through Daryl’s spine and for once it was not from his growing fever. He smirked and did what he was told. 

—

“Daryl Joe Dixon?”

“Ndo.”

“Daryl uhh…Julian?”

“Definitely ndo.”

“David?”

“Ndope. Three guesses are up kndife girl.”

The next hour of driving returned to the new normal of concentrated silence. Any reprieve that Daryl felt before was cleared out with a wave of fresh congestion and a deep set shiver beneath an ailing, sweaty body. Every ten or so minutes, a wave of sneezes would sneak out like clockwork. The fits had shifted from harsh and sudden, to drawn out with an exhausted edge to them. Every now and again a tickle would come on suddenly, only to dissipate in an instance, leaving the hunter frustrated and bleary eyed. He pulled his coat sleeves up and down every few minutes as he flipped between scorching and freezing. The fluid filling his lungs occupied a panicky space in his mind that he was forced to push down. You weak piece of shit. Shuddering away the thoughts of his father, or maybe Merle, he focused his wavering energy back on the road, willing himself to just. Keep. Going. Apart from the ancient motor, the only sounds to penetrate the space were the scribblings of a pen to paper in the back seat, Daryl’s persistent sniffling and Rick’s powerful jaw clenching with frustration. The latter wracked the driver with guilt. An unwelcome friend. As anxiety coursed through him, he instinctively started biting the skin off his thumb, flinching slightly as teeth made forceful contact with raw flesh. Glancing down, he watched crimson blood flooding his nail bed, the rest of his fingers appearing much the same. He sucked the metallic liquid from his thumb, vowing to find a better coping strategy. 

A complex glance from Rick in the passenger seat caused Daryl to inhale sharply, launching him into a coughing fit that greatly threatened his composure. Between wheezy gasps for air, a palm of support landed on his leg which upset him in ways he couldn’t comprehend, so he slapped it away. He flip flopped between irate tears and a distressed lack of control. He loathed being out of control. Searching for something, anything to take away his torment, he habitually reached for a pack of cigarettes that had residence in his vest pocket. Placing one between his lips he fumbled for the lighter that was somewhere in his jeans. 

“You fuckin’ serious right now, Daryl?” Rick's voice crossed the threshold of silence first, casting an icy, seething glare towards his pathetic boyfriend.

“What!?” Daryl responded, finally putting his hands on a lighter. Just about to bring the fire to his lips, a thumb and a finger grabbed the cigarette and yanked it from the hunter’s mouth. What transpired next happened in a feverish slow motion scene. Rick held up the dart between his fingers and gave Daryl a look of rampant rage, before winding down his window and casting it aside to be carried away by wind and rain. 

The intense rush of emotion that surged through Daryl was too intense to identify. He was primal. With a swift turn of the wheel, he pulled off the road and parked the vehicle, turning to face the Deputy. He could’ve sworn he started growling at the other man, but Rick didn't let go of his resolve either. The rugged duo were locked in a tumultuous tête a tête. Finally, unable to articulate words without physical aid, Daryl opened the car door and sprinted towards the dense forest, slamming the door to the jeep behind him. He didn’t bother to grab his crossbow, or to look back or even think. He just needed to get away, to be alone. He was always better alone.

‘

“Well that was stupid.” Carl finally said after what felt like a year of unvoiced thoughts and tension.

“Yeah. I can’t believe he just-”

“No. It was stupid of you dad.”

—

Daryl sprinted through the overgrowth as fast as his ailing body would allow, much like a wounded animal escaping from a predator. The frigid wind and rain whipped across his face like tiny daggers, further dampening his clothing and his spirits. As his legs started slowing down, the hunter's mind was inundated with immense shame, tears threatening to pour out at any moment. He had felt like a watched pot of water all morning, finally boiling over when the scrutiny grew to an all-enveloping climax. He was desperately exhausted and couldn’t fathom trying to keep up his rapidly declining facade, he was literally a walking misery. Regret swelled through him. They could’ve postponed the trip. He could’ve stayed behind. Glenn could’ve taken his place. But Daryl wasn’t stupid, he knew who he was and he knew that he needed to do this. Still. He was acting like a pure jerk, facing a pinnacle of penance for his worse-than-normal stubbornness. 

On the brink of collapse, he jogged into a small clearing and steadied himself with an arm against a sturdy tree. He coughed violently and brazenly, rivers of stubborn mucus making their way out of his chest cavity with every diaphragmatic convulsion. This is what drowning felt like. When the fit was over, Daryl made the mistake of swallowing the viscous slime that filled his mouth and was hit with a sudden surge of intense nausea. With one hand bracing against the tree, and the other clutching his middle, Daryl grimaced at the sickly saliva filling  his oral space. He lurched forward and began to retch. With nothing in his system but a few bites of toast, there was nothing to come up but hot bile that bubbled like a volcano, fresh out of dormancy. When he was finished, he spat the remaining saliva to the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, feeling thoroughly putrid. 

Collapsing to the damp ground with a thud, he leant up against the tree, shutting his eyes tight to escape the forest around him that had begun to spin like a bottle of whiskey. Now that he was finally alone and feeling exhaustively sorry for himself, Daryl yielded to his pent up emotions and started crying. The events of the last few hours played over and over in his febrile brain, the shame and guilt forcing choked sobs out of the hunters throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he had wept so openly. ‘Probably Merle.’ Not much time had passed since the Governor murdered his confounding brother, forcing the younger Dixon to put down the walker version of him. The event had traumatised him, but in classic Daryl fashion, he pushed it down, not having time or the knowledge of how to process the complex grief. Shoulders heaved and teeth chattered in the cold. He knew he should get up, go back and apologise or something. But the sick man just sat there frozen, eyelids clamped together, breathing rapidly through his mouth.

And then something changed. A subtle shift of environment. There were no sounds, nothing threatening enough to regain vision for, but a tangible presence flittered past Daryl, and he held his breath.

““Well, look-ee here little brother! Got yourself another case of the sniffles?”” The tinny voice of Daryl’s older brother permeated through his ears, causing him to choke on inhale. 

‘This isn’t real. He’s. Not. Here.’

“”What’s wrong buddy? Cat got yer tongue?”” Merle cackled humorlessly. “”Y’always were a pathetic, snotty little shit!””

“This…this ain’t real Mberle. You’re dead.” 

“”And you know aaaallllll about that, dontcha?”” The uncanny presence became very close to the younger Dixon boy, casting a shadow across blind eyes as it looked down on the afflicted one. Daryl forced one eyelid open, to avoid another round of vertigo. Before him was indeed the eerie face of his older brother. Panic set in and Daryl began to doubt his fragile sanity.

“It were the Governor! He turned you indto…indto one of themb!” The sick hunter tripped on his words and tried to shake the otherworldly mirage away. It, he stayed put.

“”Yeh, and ya cried like a dumb baby then too.”” Merle hit a soft spot and Daryl started shaking. “”What’s wrong princess? Officer Friendly finally come to ‘is senses and kicked you out? Surprised it took this long. They don’t care about ya, Daryl! Nobody does now…””

“Shut the fuck up Mberle! They’re good people. The best thang Rick ever did was leaving ya’ up on that roof to rot!” Daryl spat in the older man’s face, drawing a patronising laugh in return. 

“”Fine, you keep tellin’ yerself that little brother.”” The gruff man started to walk away, before finding another reason to tear the hunter down. “”Oh yeah, when were ya’ gunna tell me you and Deputy Rick Grimes had gone all Brokeback Mountain? Never picked that one as a fudge-packer!”” He chortled at his own offensive joke, only stopping when an enraged growl escaped from the shivering man at the base of the tree. “”You though? I always pegged ya as a pussy lil’ faggot!”

“You fucgkin’ sond of a bitch!” Daryl's voice broke and made to lunge at his older brother, only to be pushed back down by a heavy boot on his chest. Tears escaped down his ruddy cheeks. ‘This cannot be happening.’

“”Hee hee! There’ya go again with the blubbering ya fuckin’ sissy! I thought dad would’ve beat that crap out of ya.”” The shadow of Merle took his foot from the middle of his brother's chest and stared violently down at him, ready to spew out another onslaught of vicious words. “”You even love Officer Friendly? Or is he just another distraction from yer miserable little life?””

“Fucgk! ‘Course I do!” He spat back, too upset to wipe the tears and snot that were pooling at the bottom of his chin.

“”Why aint ya said it yet ya measly shit-stain?”” 

It was a reasonable question from Daryl’s psyche. Why? Why couldn’t he just say the words that were unwavering true to the deepest recesses of his soul? He loved Rick Grimes more than he ever thought possible. He did. He did. He fucking did. Why couldn’t he just grow a pair and fucking say it? He tried to convince himself that Rick hadn’t either. But he had. One night several weeks ago, Daryl lay upon his partner’s bare chest on the verge of sleep, when a small voice whispered ‘I love you.” He could’ve said it back. He could’ve kissed the man in a show of reciprocated feeling. But he feigned slumber, visceral shame penetrating his heart. If he finally spoke the words out loud they would be real, and leave the hunter open to the inevitable: ‘everyone fucking leaves anyway.’ Daryl Dixon wanted to shower his partner with affirmations of devotion and affection, but it was impossible when he deeply believed he was not worthy of such euphoria.

Salty tears dripped to the ground as the sick man held a leaden head in his hands. Sniffling hard and trying to compose himself, he looked up to give Merle Dixon one last taste of his rage. But he was gone. A hallucination of fever that left as silently as it arrived. He felt like an idiot, sobbing loudly in the forest, arguing with a ghost of a brother long gone from the world. Almost about to succumb to another emotional tidal wave, a loud rustling from Daryl’s left brought him out of the emotional stupor. 

Sharp blue eyes narrowed as reality set in. The hunter reached for his gun and waited with cat-like readiness, ready to prove himself at any cost. 

[drahdoutcosmeticdentistry]

Preventing and Managing Complications With Dental Implants - Tips for Dental Care

Preventing and Managing Complications with Dental Implants: Tips for Dental Care

When you get dental implants, you should know what to expect so that you can ensure your new teeth are healthy and long-lasting. You should follow a routine that involves regular oral health checks, proper hygiene, and maintaining a healthy diet.

X-rays and 3D imaging are helpful tools in evaluating the bone structure that supports dental implants. They allow your dentist to identify a variety of issues, including whether there is enough bone available to support the implant, and what size and shape implants should be placed.

In addition, X-rays can also help your doctor detect any signs of infection that could lead to implant failure. They can also indicate when your abutment (the piece of metal that connects the implant to your natural tooth) is loose, or if it has come off.

Your dentist will provide you with detailed instructions for aftercare and recovery after your surgery. This includes how to care for the surgical site, which will likely be swollen for a week or two after your procedure. You should drink lots of water during this period, ideally five to six 8 oz. glasses a day. Avoid hard or sticky foods, such as hard candies or ice, because they could chip the implant and cause damage to your natural teeth.

Brush and floss regularly with a soft-bristled toothbrush and non-abrasive toothpaste to keep your mouth clean and prevent gum disease from spreading to the implant. This is important to avoid infections and reduce the risk of peri-implantitis, which can be just as painful as gum disease.

Rinse your mouth with a salt-water solution after every meal to remove food debris. This will also keep your mouth moist and promote healing after surgery.

You should also keep a supply of dental floss in your purse or car so that you can access it whenever you need it. It is easy to forget about flossing, but it’s one of the most effective ways to keep your dental implants and natural teeth healthy.

https://milissana321.medium.com/the-role-of-cone-beam-ct-in-dental-implant-planning-and-placement-a45b73137e83

Eat a healthy diet, and make sure to get plenty of fiber. This will help to keep your implants strong and healthy, and it will also improve your overall health.

Avoid smoking and drinking alcohol, which can inhibit healing and increase the risk of infection. They can also lead to gum disease, which will reduce the life of your implants and make them more susceptible to failure.

Eating soft foods is also a good idea, as it can help to prevent irritation to the surgical site and make it easier for your mouth to heal. You should also take pain medication as directed by your surgeon.

See your dentist regularly for checkups and cleanings to monitor the health of your implants. These appointments will help your doctor spot any signs of infection that could affect your implants, and they can provide treatment before they become more serious.

[lupine-publishers-juns]

Lupine Publishers | Robot-Assisted Radical Prostatectomy our Technique Description

Abstract

Objective: To describe step-by-step technique in Robot Assisted Radical Prostatectomy of our transperitoneal posterioranterior technique for prostatic dissection with preservation of the endopelvic fascia, preservation of the puboprostatic ligaments and dorsal venous complex.

Materials and Methods: Description of our surgical technique over 80 patients who underwent RARP and the characteristics group from 2016 to 2019 excluding the rest of cases who went to different surgical approach and technique for robot-assisted radical prostatectomy.

Results: The mean age was 63 years old, 7% of patients were overweight and 7.5% had obesity. The mean pre-operative prostate volume was 42.620 cc, mean prostatic specific antigen (PSA) of 10.414.8 ng/dl. The mean console time was 198±47. The surgical margins were positive in 13.75% of the patients. Complications were recorded in the peri-operative period, five (6.2%) Clavien-Dindo I and six (7.5%) Clavien-Dindo II.

Conclusions: After 8 years of experience in our center we have modified our technique of robot assisted radical prostatectomy, improving our results, following different worldwide concepts in the prostatic dissection. Even if necessary, to increase the number of cases we have find an easier way to reproduce with acceptable results.

Keywords: Robotic Radical Prostatectomy, Prostate Dissection, Transperitoneal Approach

Introduction

In the past year’s robot assisted laparoscopic surgery is becoming more easily available in Latin America, in México was introduce by our department in Mexico, City in 2013 we accomplished the first robot assisted radical prostatectomy. At the beginning we started performing an anterior technique, which is, in most centers the standard of treatment for localized prostate cancer. The technique varies depending on the place of learning or according to initial proctoring and preferences. Twenty years ago, was introduced the laparoscopic approach, at that time was usual the retrograde dissection starting with the apex. Guillonneau et al., described the mixed technique modifying the Mountsouris technique where they used and antegrade and retrograde approaches in 7 standardized steps. [1]After in 2003 following several years of evolution in the robotic radical prostatectomy technique the Frankfurt group published a case series of their robot-assisted technique using ascending and descending techniques for prostate approach [2]. In 2012 Asimakopuolus et al., described their intra fascial dissection of the neurovascular bundle [3]. Several approaches since that time have been created. In this article we describe our technique, which has been modified since our initial experience from 2011, after learning the lateral anterior approach in France, and then modifying to a mixed technique in between anterior and the Bocciardi approach[4].

Materials and Methods

Description of our surgical technique over 80 patients who underwent RARP and the characteristics group from 2016 to 2019 excluding the rest of cases who went to different surgical approach and technique for robot-assisted radical prostatectomy at the same time.

Technique step-by-step

We include a single surgeon experience over 80 cases from January 2016 up to December 2019 of Robotic Assisted Radical Prostatectomy, following the next description of the technique.

Port placement and Docking

The trocars placement starts once needle Veress insufflation of the cavity is performed. We use a four-arm X da Vinci robotic system (Intuitive Surgical, Sunnyvale, CA, USA). First robotic trocar is placed one centimeter higher to the umbilicus, two da Vinci X ports on the left side, first one, four cm to the left of the camera trocar and the second one, four more centimeters according to the anterior axillar line. On the right side, one more robotic port (8 mm) four centimeters from the camera port in a horizontal line. Two more accessory ports for the assistant are placed, one 12 mm port in a triangle between the camera port and first robotic port on the right, and a 5 mm port down and 3 centimeters upper the iliac crest (Figure 1).

TransperitonealPosterior Dissection

Sigmoid dissection is performed to allow enough space in the rectovesical area. Upper traction is done by the prograsp instrument in the middle line in between bladder fatty tissue and the line of the rectum. We follow the vas deferens reflection to start the perineotomy through the pouch of Douglas. Reaching the vas deferens we transected, we follow them laterally for each side preparing the seminal vesicles, as the description of Montsouris technique. The next step is to dissect the full posterior base of the prostate, opening the Denonvilliers fascia reaching the apex of the prostate area where the urethra can be visualized, once we finish the medial space in between the prostate and the rectum, we start the nerves bundles preservation. By manipulating the right vesicle with the fourth arm, we expose the angle of the vesicle tip and the base of the prostate. The inferior and superior portions of the lateral face of the prostate are dissected. Then we reproduce the same on the left seminal vesicle, up traction to expose the base of the prostate and we perform the nerve sparing on an antegrade way, if necessary we place 5 mm clips coming from one of the assistant ports to avoid the bleeding from the capsular arteries going through the prostate and to control the prostatic pedicles. We can reproduce different degrees of preservation, intrafascial, inter or extrafascial [5,6] (Figure 2). Once posterior base and lateral walls of the prostate are finished, we tract the seminal vesicles and perform a forward an up dissection in direction of the bladder neck, leaving the most anterior prostate bases (left and right) the closer to the start of the bladder neck, at this time we release the seminal vesicles and we move to the lymph node dissection, once accomplished the approach goes anteriorly.

Transperitoneal Anterior Dissection

We go traditionally anteriorly to create the Retzius Space with a parietal peritoneum incision, down the level of Cooper Ligament; we identify all the anterior prostate suspension structures by removing the fatty tissue that surrounds it. The bladder at this time has been pull up by the forth arm, we perform and incision at the lowest medial level of the puboprostatic ligament without opening the endopelvic fascia but very near to the lateral prostate capsule, we do respect the maximum length of the puboprostatic ligaments [7]. The endopelvic fascia is preserved, we go laterally to the prostate capsule from the initial incision up to the level of the bladder neck anteriorly and laterally, because of the previous down to up dissection and nerve sparing form the posterior dissection we can easily visualized the nerves already spared. The same steps are reproduced in the right side, sparing the endopelvic fascia, and the maximum length of puboprostatic ligament, going down till the bladder neck shape appears (Figure 3). Once both sides accomplished, we do a close traction by the fourth arm Prograsp and decreased the bladder catheter balloon to 5 cc. A U inverted incision on the anterior wall of the bladder is done, a very spare bladder neck is accomplished by cutting the posterior bladder neck area, following deeper to a fully access to the previously dissected seminal vesicles, this step allows a very well neck sparing technique [8].

Lateral Prostate and Apex

Next step is to move the prostate lateral dissection toward the apex, going close and down to the dorsal venous complex, without cutting it or suturing it, we follow the angle going down to the level of the urethra respecting the anatomical position of the plexus over the urethra, the plexus stays at the level of the respected puboprostatic ligaments and rounded endopelvic fascia. We correctly identified the urethra diameter and transected with the maximum length possible. The Denonvilliers fascia bellow properly dissected avoids posterior reconstruction. For the urethral – bladder anastomosis a van Velthoven technique is perform using a 3-0 V-Loc [9]. Finally we use the same V-Loc suture from each side of the anterior line of suture to recreate a suspension-like hammock stitches; this is accomplished by using the end tip of the suture from the lateral portion of the neck bladder to the previous position of the puboprostatic ligament, with this we enhance hypothetically, better continence. A Foley 18 fr catheter is placed with 15 cc inside, finalizing the procedure. Prostate is removed through the camera incision port.

Results and Discussion

The patients were aged between 44 and 86 years old (mean: 63 years old). The most common co morbidity was high blood pressure (n=17), seven percent of patients were overweight and 7.5% had obesity. The mean pre-operative prostate volume was 42.620 cc (range: 9.3-115), mean prostatic specific antigen (PSA) of 10.414.8 ng/dL (range: 0.9-131) and mean positive cores per biopsy were 4.93 (range: 1-12). The mean console time was 19847 minutes (range 120-400) and intraoperative blood loss was 368263 (range 50-1300). The uretro-vesical anastomosis was performed with the van Velthoven technique in 80 patients (100%). In 17 (21.3%) patients a closed suction drainage was placed. [10] Five (6%) patients required blood transfusion, and none required conversion to an open approach [11] (Table 1). No major complications were recorded in the peri-operative period, five (6.2%) Clavien-Dindo I and six (7.5%) Clavien-Dindo II.

The RARP Gleason score were 6 in 36 (45%), 7 in 26 (32.5%), 8 in 7 (8.8%), 9 in 9 (11.3%) and 10 in 2 (2.5%) patients. The T clinical stage and D’Amico risk group is described in Table 2. Pelvic lymph node dissection was performed as follows: 9 (11%) standard/ obturator, 23 (28%) extended and 11 (13%) super extended. The surgical margins were positive in 11 (13.75%) patients. The most common positive surgical margin was at the level of prostatic apex. [12]We found a positive Pearson correlation between RARP Gleason score and positive surgical margins (r=0.539, p=0.01). The mean hospital stay were 3 days (2-7 days), and the urethral catheter was removed in a mean period of 51 day (5-10 days) [13,14].

Respecting, as other authors, the puboprostatatic ligaments and the santorini complex as well as the endopevic fascia we can spare much more the prostate fossa, avoiding too much invasion on the pelvic structures. [15] Our final stich for an anterior suspension, keeps part of the anatomy form the bladder to the ligaments. As demostrated by Galfano et al., we bealive that starting the radical prostatectomy through the pouch of Douglas is an easier way to improve later during the procedure a most precise definition to the bladder neck as also a better definition of the anterior anatomical structures, and maybe is also a proper start if we want to fully perform a robotic retzis sparing radical prostatectomy [16].

Conclusions

We decide after four years of performing transperitoneal anterior dissection approach and base in different worldwide leaders and techniques for robotic radical prostatectomy, that some of the steps in the learning curve could be challenging, we started posteiror dissection with good overall outcomes and a good reproducible technique. Due to hight evolution in the technique we decide to follow steps to simplify the bladder neck approach. With posterior dissection, we can reproduce, from the vesicle tip and going laterally up to the body of the prostate a very fine neurovascular bundle dissection. Going thought the Retzius space with the previous posterior dissection gives a clear anatomical landmark to define a proper bladder neck sparing and to approach the Santorini plexus from behind and below avoiding anatomical damage and excessive blood loss. Different techniques have been described for robot assisted radical prostatectomy, and the preference and expertise of surgeon allows making different possibilities to the surgical robotic approach.

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[shebeafancyflapjack]

Peri: Friends help each other! Just like I keep helping you, in spite of your constant mockery!

Six: iN sPiTe oF yOuR cOnStAnT mOcKeRy!!!

Peri:

Six: Whatever, you love it.

[drwhoboards]

Doctor Who moodboard update: Perpugilliam Brown/Sixth Doctor

[heckyeahcolinbaker]

Heyooo! Guess who had to edit and republish her fic? Yep, that be me!

Love After Varos is a SixPeri fic set after, you guessed it, Vengeance on Varos!

Cover designed by @pipfields 💜

What starts off as the Doctor comforting and pampering Peri after the whirlwind of events on Varos, turns into confessions and much more. Peri sees another side of the Doctor that she never thought she would see.

Content warning; some chapters will contain mature language and scenes of a sexual nature. 18+

Two chapters are up now, I hope you enjoy! ❤

[unimportant-ramblings]

Six and Peri were in love

[inthisformiambadwolf]

Requested Anonymously by Multiple Flubbles

Hello, flubbles. I'm home.

Brown hair, brown eyes, brown suit. Pinstripes, for Pete's sake. So different from any of the Doctors you had known, and he was looking at you like you were the center of the universe. ‘Practically a baby!’ he had said when he saw you, and then he kissed you like you had never been kissed, and it was perfect.

“Don't you worry about a thing, sweetheart! You and I are gonna be brilliant!” he promised, and then with one last kiss, he left before you could get a word in edgewise. “Allons-y!”

Well, that was a load of lies, you thought, trying to forget the strange version of the Doctor you had encountered. Nothing seemed brilliant anymore, especially not you and the Doctor.

Rescuing the Doctor from himself had become a part of your day-to-day life ever since he regenerated. You rarely had to rescue him before. Four hardly ever had to be rescued, except from his own scarf, and even Five, that softy, usually held his own just fine as long as you helped him keep track of his plethora of companions. And Six? Well, Six was a surprisingly tough little marshmallow, you would give him that, but being tough didn’t get him out of botched political situations. You did.

Because Six couldn’t just shut up.

You had been traveling with the Doctor for a long time, and you had, more than once, considered leaving. But it was never a serious consideration. You never actually believed that you would quit. Sometimes you got frustrated or depressed or even injured, yes, and those multiple occasions of nearly dying had really set you off, but you had never thought that you would actually leave.

Until the Doctor regenerated, that is.

You had met all of the Doctors up to this point, thanks to timelines crossing and meddling Time Lords and a whole lot of other temporal quackery that would never make sense to anyone except for a Time Lord. It was Four who you had traveled with first, though, and then Five after that, and after you accepted that all of the Doctor were the same man, you decided that you were quite fond of all of him. Quirks and all.

Fondness very quickly evolved into something much stronger. It was there with Four, most definitely, but when Four became Five, if got much more difficult to ignore. Maybe it was Five’s youth that made him seem less untouchable, more available, but you kept reminding yourself that the Doctor was the Doctor no matter what he looked like. He was a centuries-old genius alien and just because he was willing to be your friend and show you the universe did not mean that he would ever actually lower himself to… to stronger feelings. Especially not towards you. No, certainly not. He could have his pick of anyone he wanted in the universe, if he wanted anybody (which Five didn't seem to, but that was that, wasn't it?). You knew it, too. But that was… okay. No, it wasn’t ideal, and if you could have your wish, it would be very different, but it was still okay. So, you loved him. Alright. A lot of his companions loved him, but they didn’t love him the same way, because they managed to leave him. You could do better than that, for his sake, if not your own. You could love better, or differently, or whatever it took. You could stay. It would hurt your single heart, but you would do it for him, because he needed someone to stay.

When you made that decision, it all seemed very brave and self-sacrificing and noble. Maybe you didn’t think about it that way, simply because you weren’t that arrogant and the Doctor would have found a way to get rid of you long before now if that were the case, but that was how it felt. Sort of. But that was all quite a while ago, and Five was gone. Now it was Six, and you were starting to regret just about every decision you had ever made in your life. Ever.

“I was doing quite alright for myself without your assistance!” the Doctor snapped at you as you dragged him by his lapel into the TARDIS. The door slammed behind you; the TARDIS was angry too, although not at you. "Your interference was completely unnecessary!"

“They were going to have you beheaded,” you deadpanned, letting go of his lapel like it was something slimy. “Regenerate that.”

The man had insulted the king. Not of a country, no. Not of a union, or even a planet, or even a solar system. No, Six had insulted the king of a whole bloody intergalactic empire, and that smug little sass in a Technicolor Dream Coat had the gall to pretend he didn’t think there would be consequences.

The Doctor crossed his arms, his angry expression bordering on a pout, and you had to notice that… well, he was sort of cute. He didn’t have Five’s angelic features or Four’s sharp, wild look, but with that mop of blond curls made a nice frame for a… nice-ish… face. He had pretty eyes, anyway, and a handsome enough smile. Now if you could find a way to burn that coat when he wasn’t looking, maybe he would be fashionably salvageable. Actually, he could keep the coat, if only everything he wore under it was less offensive to your eyes. The striped trousers really needed to be burned. Would it kill the Doctor to regenerate into someone who was willing lower themselves to wear jeans, like the common mortals did?

“I had everything well in hand,” he said, chin up and lips firmly pursed. He was all puffed up like a bullfrog. An angrily blushing bullfrog with really nice pouty lips. His cheeks were red and his curls quivered with rage.

That shouldn't be cute.

“Uh-huh.” You didn’t want to argue. You wanted to remind him that he wasn’t actually immortal, that there were consequences, that he couldn’t run around acting like the rules didn’t apply to him, that it was possible for him to die and not regenerate, but you didn’t say any of those things. Because you didn’t want to argue.

Bossy, you thought, trying and failing to reconcile the man in front of you with the Doctor you had come to know. Rude. Controlling. Arrogant. Impatient. Irritable. Insensitive.

The Doctor could be all of those things. You knew that. But never before Six had he been all of them at once. How had he become this? Where was the Doctor you knew, hiding underneath all that bluster and bad dress sense? You knew it was still him, but… you were having such a hard time seeing it. Where was he? Where was the kind stranger who had taken you in when you were lost and alone? Where was the explorer who was so full of wonder when he showed you the stars? Where was the gentleman who called you beautiful and taught you how to dance? Where was the sweet boy who convinced you to play cricket with him even though you swore you wouldn't?

The Doctor was glaring back at you as you examined him, but some of the fight went out of him when he saw your eyes soften. What did you see when you looked at him? He had to wonder. What were you thinking right now? Ever since he had regenerated, you had stopped talking to him about how you felt. You stopped saying 'I think’ and 'I feel like’ and 'Do you ever..?’ Six knew that he wasn’t as approachable as his previous bodies (even One, who was a real grump at times [almost all of the time], had been friendly enough in his own way). Was that why you hardly talked to him anymore? He was trying to catch your attention, but it seemed like all he could ever do now was make you angry or hurt your feelings. It was like you had regenerated along with him, and not for the better. But now… you were looking at him… almost like you used to, with such a soft expression and that almost-smile that had made Four grin and Five feel bashful and Six… well, it just made Six miss how things used to be.

You looked away when you felt your eyes start to sting. The truth of the matter was that you had been scared for Six. You almost hadn’t managed to save him. He was very nearly beheaded, and he was acting like- like-

Like you hadn’t come so close to losing him.

“Just….” You sighed heavily. “Just don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

“Scare you? Scare you? May I remind you that I was the one who nearly-”

You snapped.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” The burning in your eyes pushed tears up and over, spilling hotly as the Doctor recoiled from you. "I nearly lost you, Doctor! I thought that I lost you! Do you have any idea what that feels like? I turned a corner and you were gone and I thought you were dead and I’ve never been so scared in all my life! I can’t lose you, do you understand? I can’t handle that! You could have died and you would have been gone and I never would have forgiven myself and I- I-"

I love you, you git, even like this. No, there's no 'even' about it. I love you and that is all. That is everything. Why can’t you see?

The Doctor blinked in confusion, taken aback by your outburst. You had never shouted at him before, not like this. "You…”

You wiped the tears from your face, breathing deeply to calm the onset of pathetic sniffles that always came with crying. You didn’t want to cry in front of the Doctor - not this Doctor. He wouldn’t understand. Four might have told you to cheer up and Five might have said “brave heart, my dear,” but Six? You couldn’t quite imagine. He would probably tell you to get a thicker skin and stop sniveling, the prat.

"I..." His eloquence had fallen away in the face of your anger... and your tears. Oh, he couldn't stand this. He couldn't stand to see you crying; none of his bodies ever could. You had known One for all of five hours and he had been immediately enamored with you, quick as lightning to offer comfort and a neckerchief when you were upset. Six didn't stand a chance. "I didn't know that you..."

“Cared?” you finished for him, getting angry again. “Doctor, after all we’ve been through, you don’t think I’d be completely devastated if I lost you?”

The Doctor cringed. He hadn’t known, no. He had thought you were like the rest of his companions, and that you would eventually want to go home and probably never see him again. It would be beyond the best of hopes that you would stay. He had fantasized that it might be otherwise, but he had never thought that there was any truth to it. And the hopes that he had had when he was Four all went down the drain when he became Five and all of his aggression and drive and passion got tucked under the bed for the sake of being polite and sensitive, because poor widdle Fivey couldn’t handle anything. And he hated it.

“You know I met a future version of you?” you asked, seemingly out of the blue. The anger was still there, simmering, demanding that you speak all the words that you had been holding in.

The Doctor balked. “What? When did this happen?”

“Almost a year ago. You were out in London trying to track down the source of that mauve alert and another you came running in here, thinking it was his own TARDIS. You told me I was practically a baby.” You snorted. "I guess that means we're sticking together, eh?"

“Why didn’t you say…?” the Doctor trailed off, because, now that he was thinking about how little you had been saying to him lately, and how little he knew, it wasn’t half as much of a surprise as it should have been that he hadn't known about this.

“What would I have said? You ran in, chattered a mile a minute, realized that you were in the wrong TARDIS, and ran out.”

No, the Doctor thought. You were lying. Well, maybe not lying, but omitting information, at least. Something else happened. He could tell.

“What really happened?” he demanded, puffing up again.

Your lips tightened. “What I said.”

“There’s more to it than that; I know there is. Don't you lie to me.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, no?”

Yes. No. I don’t know, Doctor. I really don't. Do you even want it to be?

You were dying to find out if this Doctor kissed as well as the future one did. You wanted to know if his lips were as soft as they looked, or his hands as strong. More than that, you wanted to know if he cared anymore. You weren’t sure.

“No,” you said. “No.”

It doesn't matter if he kisses well. Future him? Kissed like a dream, made me see stars, but nobody kisses that well unless they've kissed a lot. Practice makes perfect, remember? Who had he been doing all of that practicing with? Hmph. Not with you, that was for sure.

It didn’t matter. The Doctor kept telling you that you couldn’t rewrite time, but he was always doing it, wasn’t he? So, it didn’t matter. What happened wouldn’t happen at all. The Doctor had kissed you, but he would never do it. If you never told him, then he wouldn't have the knowledge to create a paradox, would he? So, it didn't matter.

You were too tired to think about it.

"Tell me..." the Doctor began, and you prepared yourself for another ham-fisted attempt to extract information, but then he said, "what you want from me."

You looked at him, brow drawing tight in confusion. "What?"

"What do you want from me?" His hand twitched to grab yours, but you were out of reach. "I cannot say I know how you feel, but I know how I feel. You have stayed with me for longer than any other companion has dared and you have done so with the most exemplary courage."

It was probably the most honest thing he had said to you without being rude for awhile. You didn't know if you were relieved or horrified that he had asked.

"I want you to stay," the Doctor continued, "but I cannot force you."

"I didn't go anywhere," you told him, trying and failing to use the tone of your voice to soften the accusation made plain by your words. "But it's not your fault. I haven't given you a chance."

"No, you have not. And it wasn't as if I wanted to regenerate, but I am the Doctor, whether you like it or not," he snapped, but the bravado of the statement didn't stay with him. His posture fell again, as did his expression. There was something there, flickering in his eyes and the unhappy twist of his mouth, that made you think of Five. "It was for Peri. Was it wrong of me, to die for Peri?"

"No." You shook your head. Oh, poor Peri. She had left, finding the new Doctor intolerable. She wasn't used to regeneration, not like you were, and she didn't have the patience. Or the love. She liked the Doctor very much, and if you hadn't been there to assure her that you would take care of him, she might not have left. She might have stayed, to watch over him. But she didn't get the chance to learn to love him, and there was nothing that demanded that she stay. And that was the real clincher, wasn't it? It would have been easy for you to be like Peri and leave, if only you didn't love the Doctor. But you did love him, so you stayed, and you were patient beyond belief. "I'm proud of you for doing that, Doctor. I'm so proud of you."

His mouth quirked into a smile for less than a second at your confession of pride in his actions, but there was still a serious conversation at hand: "Then, what?"

Then what, what? Oh. He was asking you what you wanted. You weren't sure what that meant, but...

"The other you said..." You grimaced. "He said..."

The Doctor's hands lifted just slightly, reaching for yours but not daring to make contact. "What did he say?"

You sighed. "He said not to worry, because we'd be brilliant. And then he-"

How were you supposed to say it? You couldn't. He would get mad or something. Or- well, who knew? This Doctor was as fresh and as raw to you as if he had only regenerated yesterday. You didn't know him. You hadn't let yourself get to know him, hadn't given him a chance in the face of his unpleasant new personality, and now you were regretting it, because you didn't know what to do.

"He kissed me," you blurted out, not looking at the Doctor's face for fear of his reaction. "Twice, actually. Called me sweetheart."

The Doctor's breath caught in his throat and his respiratory bypass fluttered uselessly in his chest. But he didn't say a word.

Blast, you thought. All this time of him loving the sound of his own voice, and now he didn't have anything to say? Typical. And now he was probably going to throw you out of the TARDIS, or at least pretend this conversation never happened. But you had just opened Pandora's box. There would be no getting that information back into the privacy of your brain.

Well. In that case.

"Fantastic kisser, by the way," you said. "I mean, really great. Nothing's going to beat that. But, y'know, it was wonderful while it lasted. Something you get to look forward to, right?"

The Doctor just stared.

"It doesn't matter." Sure, your heart was stretching with the effort of taking on all this pain and humiliation, but it didn't matter. "I'll, um... I'll just... do something-"

"No," said the Doctor, soft and slow, "no. Don't run. Stay here."

"Forget it," you said over your shoulder, because you were already halfway across the room, ready to escape into the TARDIS's halls, ready to escape from him and whatever he was about to say and–

But the Doctor moved too, and he grabbed your hand, pulling you back to him. You yanked your hand away immediately, humiliation turning into painful, searing anger.

"You don't get to do this," you hissed. "You pushed and I answered you and now you don't get to do this. Leave me alone."

There was fire in your eyes and the Doctor was in awe.

"I can't," the Doctor told you, still soft, still slow, with a sinking gravity that took the very air between you and pulled. "I can't do that."

"And why the hell not?"

He reached for you again and you were too heavy and too tired to pull away this time. His fingers brushed over your cheek to wipe away tears, so sweet and gentle– so like he used to be– that all the anger crumpled within you even while your eyes still stung.

"Because I'm going to kiss you," he said, cupping your face in his hands, "and we're going to be brilliant."

And so he did. And you were.

[nostalgia-tblr]

Attack of the Cybermen (Episode 1)

I didn't own The Twin Dilemma FOR SOME REASON (don't worry, I immediately ordered if from Amazon when I realised my terrible error) so I had to settle for Attack of the Cybermen, which (in)famously is *not* one of the few Dr Who stories to be written by a woman even though it claims to be. Uncle Eric's fingerprints are all over this thing, and weirdly the DVD is rated 'U' despite relatively massive amounts of violence and some deaths. Weird that it's not a PG, I wonder what the reasoning behind that was.

It's full of mercenaries and bank-robbers, and it takes the Doctor almost 40 minutes to stumble into the Cyberman plot. Though to be fair to him we don't know what the plot actually is yet, only that it involves Cybermen and Telos, a name which would mean nothing to about 98% of the audience at home. I'm guessing they want to re-open the tombs? Maybe?

Six and Peri continue to bicker and she thinks he's unstable. He promised not to hurt her again and then immediately got her into danger. That's the thing about the Doctor, he'll go to extremes to protect his companions but he doesn't really do that much to keep them safe himself. He could just leave them in the TARDIS with a good book and a cup of tea. Peri is very scared, and about to die on the cliffhanger but spoiler she doesn't leave in this story so she'll probably be fine. I hate her clothes and have no idea how she can run in those shoes. She pointed out that he Doctor doesn't exactly fit in when he's wearing that coat, but her own fashion sense is just as bad as his. Hers is a bit more average, though, I have to admit. You can sort of see her nipples.  

I think the 45 minute episodes aren't very well-done as a thing. The running-down-corridors type of padding becomes a lot more obvious, and it's not like there's actually any extra time for the story to develop plot and characters and etc. Six'n'Peri are entertaining enough, though she tends to come across as a bit whiney if only because she has a lot to complain about and he just brushes it off because his ego has it's own gravity well. We saw Halley's comet briefly, and she was worried that they'd bump into it. This did not seem all that likely even when Sexy's not behaving, so it made her look a bit scared of her own shadow. Damn but Peri gets some bloody bad writing, I feel sorry for Nicola having to try to turn that shit into diamonds somehow. She gives a performance that makes Peri fairly convincing as an actual person, but there's not much potential for getting to play an awesome character. Peri is possibly the worst-written companion of the 80s (though Mel was badly underwritten as well and ended up being almost entirely based on Bonnie's ability to scream really loudly), possibly in all of Doctor Who. Like the whole 55 years of it.

So anyway not much has been explained yet so I feel like I have no real spoilers in this "review" but I expect that will change in episode two. There are two dudes wandering about on Telos who will no doubt be Important Later on, and the Cyberman no doubt have an evil plan of some sort. I wonder which rough-bitten erstwhile baddy will heroically self-sacrifice at the end to help tidy things up.

Meanwhile Sexy changed her outer appearance after the Doctor fixed her chameolen circuit. She doesn't seem to be very good at it, I suspect she is just trolling him by turning into stupid objects until he agrees to let her change back into the blue dress. Also someone shot her by accident.

[plxviophile]

Noooooo!!!! I am slowly becoming a twelve x Clara shipper. I did not need any more ships to take over my life, yet here I am. Btw, thanks. :) you have great skill in getting people to ship things.

Welcome to multishipping beautiful nonny

It is Way More Fun.

[iyeonjuni]

pairing: choi soobin x f!reader

genre: social media au + written au, life is strange: true colors!au, fluff, angst, humor (im trying)

synopsis: ever since he was born, soobin had psychic empathy powers. he has the ability to read, manipulate and absorb other people’s emotions as his own based on the colors of their auras. but what happens when he meets y/n, who’s emotions he cannot read, manipulate or even take from at all?

warnings: profanity (please refer to chapter warnings)

featuring: ryujin from itzy, sieun from stayc and jungwon from enhypen

start date: april 4th, 2022 (ongoing)

updates: whenever i can 😭

note: life is strange ALEX BUT ITS SOOBIN!!! after my two week break this would be my next smau and the last one of my one smau per txt member series so i hope you ENJOY this one ^^

taglist: open! send an ask to be added

profiles: MOA PRODUCTION / IT-C COMPANY

one: very peri

two: ultraviolet

three: honeysuckle

four: blue iris (written)

five: rose quartz

six: marsala (written)

seven: emerald

eight: tangerine tango

nine: chili pepper

ten: tigerlily (written + smau)

eleven: turquoise (written + smau)

twelve: serenity

thirteen: mimosa (written)

fourteen: greenery

fifteen: illuminating

sixteen: sand dollar (written)

seventeen: fuschia rose (written + smau)

eighteen: true red (written)

…

© iyeonjuni all rights reserved. - do not translate, take it as your own and repost on tumblr or any other platforms.