#so a love confession in that condition? with her medical background?

[randomfoggytiger]

Tiger! Curious, what are your thoughts on Scully’s “oh brother” after Mulder’s “I love you” in triangle?

I took it as her being frustrated over Mulder almost getting himself killed and it was the wrong time for a proclamation of that kind.

I’ve also heard that he was on pain meds and Scully knew he wasn’t in his normal state of mind, but I don’t buy that.

Thanks!

I think I sit on the drugged side of the fence, personally; though I might change my mind in future if given more thought.

Scully was frustrated-- mad even-- at being ditched; but Triangle focuses solely on her determination to save her partner. TLG thought Mulder was in trouble, and she took it as a matter of course that he would be (hence her FBI shenanigans.) We are led to assume she found Mulder face-down in the water; but even so, the end of the episode concludes with her talking gently and calmly at his bedside while fondly bossing him around.

In Mulder's past hospitalization scenarios, Scully was prone to take a careful, soothing approach (even when she assumed he was in the wrong.) This episode is relatively the same... except: she addresses Mulder as if he were high, stating "Mulder settle down, that's an order"/"Yeah, yeah I did"/"I want you to close your eyes and repeat, 'There's no place like home'" (all loosely quoted.) She says these statements while listening to her partner ramble on about the Queen Anne or Thor's Hammer or her saving the world. Although she's not the only one who thinks he's high-- Skinner and TLG are convinced, as well-- she's the self-appointed, rational one there to talk him down. (Skinner prefers sarcastic Toto quips instead.)

As realistic as it would have been for her to be frustrated with his foolhardiness or tangled up in lingering Diana Fowley emotions... Triangle doesn't conclude with either of those. (Diana Fowley, for example, is entirely forgotten until One Son by both agents; and is forgotten again after a quick "look, they made up" moment at the end of Agua Mala. Yes, that is a writing problem; no, I am not complaining.) It's up to the audience to inject more into this scene than the writers or actors or directors intended-- complicated emotions weren't a part of Triangle's vision. (But are we surprised, with The X-Files?)

In Triangle's conclusion particularly, Scully isn't angry or closed off, nor does she shut Mulder down like she would if she were frustrated (or took his words or the intent behind them seriously.) Instead, she thinks he's just high; and sighs (at the wall-- a Jim in The Office moment, before it's time) the infamous "Oh, brother" before turning heel and walking away. In her mind, Mulder's too high to take these actions personally, or even to remember them. She's so convinced that she walks away exasperated and just a smidge humored (e.g. her exaggerated posture, shoulders, and expression.) It's so... Mulder to acknowledge and proclaim their love openly at the strangest time while basking in, as Scully sees it, the high of her "saving" the world (i.e. saving him.) It's endearing, perhaps, but it's also so ridiculous (to her) that she automatically doesn't give his confession the time of day.

Why didn't Scully continue to dissuade or reason with Mulder, as she was doing up to this point? Scully wrestles through the last scene trying to get Mulder back to sleep: she sweeps in, tries to calm him down; then spends the next few minutes fruitlessly attempting to untangle his logic so she can get him to unwind and drift back to dreamworld. But, after achieving practically nothing, she ends the interlude with an injunction to close his eyes and go to sleep. Mulder obeying then popping back up is so Mulder that she comes back and tucks in her chin, expecting another line of unimportant, sleep-stalling rambles. So when he says, "I love you", she takes it as the height of drug-induced delirium and walks off before he can embarrass himself further. Almost-- but not quite-- the attitude of a parent being called back by their child on a sugar high and hearing such a string of jittery nonsense that they regret their decision, and strictly reinforce bedtime rules.

The humor, for the audience, is that Scully doesn't doubt that Mulder loves her-- that's not a question; that understanding, in fact, fuels her early, mid, and latter Season 6 decisions-- but that she can't believe he's devolved into such lovey dovey delirium that Mulder's willing to (potentially) embarrass himself when he remembers later. He just confessed his feelings that summer (after five plus years), and didn't drop the L word then, even in the midst of heightened anxiety and mutual misery. Here, to her knowledge, he is in no state to own up to or confess the depth of his feelings, either. And yet, it's such a Mulder thing to do-- to do it anyway, and like this-- that she's left with a bone-deep sigh ("Oh, brother") and a determination not to feed into this delusion.

Still. She keeps this confession in mind as the season progresses (or, more truthfully, the writers do), testing the waters and pushing the boundaries to see how deep Mulder's reticence or repression goes (classic examples include Dreamland, Arcadia, Alpha, Milagro, The Unnatural, etc. etc.) It's why Season 6 is so fun to me... but that's another topic for another time.

Those are my thoughts, anyway! Would be interested to hear yours¬.

[downtonabbeyrevisited]

Season Two Episode Four

A 1918 timestamp ushers us into one of Downton’s more slow moving episodes where three parts painful banality has been mixed with one part life-or-death peril.

Providing more interesting political and cultural conflict than WW1 (at least at Downton) is Isobel’s ongoing grating at Cora’s very soul. Cora has had the temerity to ensure that the staff don’t collapse on their feet and has done something with the linen that I can’t quite fathom which, of course, Isobel takes as a slight upon her medical knowledge. Isobel makes the fatal error of calling Cora’s bluff threatening to ‘seek some other place’ if she is not appreciated at Downton. Major Clarkson also takes sides with Cora and Isobel now has no choice but to throw herself and her messiah complex upon the Red Cross in Northern France. I am sure they will be thrilled. 

With Isobel’s departure, Moseley and Mrs Bird find themselves at a loss having deep cleaned the house and moaned about their employer’s eating habits. Turns out that one thing they forgot to do was deploy any semblance of a security system as a random man with a drama school limp wanders into the house looking for food. In a manner that would make the current Conservative front bench recoil with horror, Mrs Bird starts up a soup kitchen out of her own (presumably rather small) pocket. In her latest attempt to not do her job, Mrs Patmore drags Daisy out for some fresh air and in the process uncovers this particular bit of well meaning but financially unsustainable charity. Mrs Patmore scales up the operation, creating a “special storage area” to squirrel away surplus from the army’s stock, which O’Brien conveniently overhears (but to be honest, it’s not that much of a coincidence. I imagine most of the kitchen heard it considering that Mrs Patmore practically yelled it). In an effort to try and inject a bit of actual drama into this episode, O’Brien reports this to Mrs Hughes but (un)fortunately, Mrs Hughes could not care less. But after watching the world’s most appalling secret handover of goods in the village, O’Brien rallies and this time is successful in bringing Cora to the nefariously compassionate Bird-Patmore coalition. To absolutely everyone’s surprise (viewers included) Cora orders food to be taken from the house stock rather than army and with all the over-confidence of a consultant sets about re-arranging tables and streamlining the workflow. 

Feeling much less charitable than Mrs Bird, Moseley heads to the Abbey and attempts to make himself indispensable and reach the dizzying heights of ‘Valet to the Earl of Grantham’. But not long after the peels of laughter that such a notion invites have died down, Bates returns and takes Mr Molesley’s shoehorn which one can’t help but think is emblematic of something. The return of Mr Bates is, naturally, a painfully protracted process that involves key protagonists not talking to each other, Thomas smoking on a wall, and the obligatory invocation of Kamal Pamuk. Robert invites Bates back to help him through the ‘veil of shadow’ and as such I was intrigued to learn that he is a World of Warcraft devotee. Bates reappearance downstairs also allows for the return of two other key Downton Abbey tropes: Anna and (John)Bates having a heart to heart under the cover of darkness, and Thomas and O’Brien’s irrational loathing/scapegoating of Britain’s most infuriatingly lovelorn character (outside of Thomas Thorne) to resume with aplomb. 

Less happy to be within the confines of the Abbey is Edith who continues to signal that all of this is really a bit beneath her (certain elements quite literally). Ever the teacher’s pet, Mr Molesley reports the sighting of an Officer by the maid’s staircase to Mrs Hughes who hears that there have been lots of rumours on the timeline tonight and comes out to say that she does not live in a sack. Unfortunately, Major Bryant does not live in one but definitely frequents one and, as such, it is of course Ethel is dismissed. As she rapidly packs all her belongings, Anna pleas to Mrs Hughes on her behalf confirming that she is indeed the friend we all want but probably don’t deserve. But Mrs Hughes can’t get rid of her that easily as Edith (and passenger) skulk back to liven up the end of the episode with news of an oncoming baby *Eastenders drums intensify*. 

Talking of undeserving relationships, Sybil and Branson receive more air-time than usual, providing the latter the opportunity to demonstrate that at times he really can be a muppet. And a slightly malevolent one at that. Sybil is firmly under the cosh this week with Violet making thinly veiled references to inappropriate alliances and Mary asking probing questions whilst she tries to get on with her job. Mary thinks that she has spotted her sister and Branson having some kind of romantic exchange but in reality, all that she has seen from afar is Branson telling Sybil that she is in love with him which when you think about it, is all kinds of awful and hardly the basis for a healthy relationship. After a long walk through the grounds where I am half expecting Branson to appear on a horse Willoughby-style, Sybil eventually caves and confesses to Mary that she doesn’t know if she likes Branson despite his eminently creepy voice over. Sybil then relays her sororal confidence and rather than taking this as an opportunity to ingratiate himself, Branson for whatever reason attempts to coerce Sybil into a relationship but not before he belittles her job. Sybil looks rightfully outraged as some equally emotionally manipulative strings wail in the background in an attempt to try and make us think that anything that has just happened was evenly slightly dreamy. 

Threaded through this glacially paced episode has been the looming threat of a both a concert and the death of Matthew and (to a much lesser extent because that is how class works) William. In an effort to break the monotony of walking around the exact same bit of French trench (see previous re-caps for further details), William and Matthew take to wandering across some largely unadulterated land and into the path of some nonchalant Germans. Daisy’s lack of (presumably fawning) letters from William starts off a chain of enquiry which confirms that the War Office has declared Matthew and William missing enabling Mary to once again deploy her signature move: weeping into her gloves. But only one hand this time because she needs to keep a bit of composure for the show must go on! Apparently. Following some abysmal piano playing (I grew up in an appallingly musical household and we all had to endure the torture of other people at the early stages of learning an instrument. It was of course blissful when we got good but, heck, I was thrown straight back to the horror of it all with that ‘accompaniment’ and had an odd sort of stress response which I won’t describe here), Mary and Edith do a rendition of If You Were the Only Girl (In the World) as everyone looks on stony-faced before participating in the millenia’s most morose sing-a-long. With a very good sense of drama, Matthew and (to a much lesser extent) William make their return. Matthew takes his place at Mary’s side and joins in the signing to what is now presumably quite a bewildered audience. Ah, Downton. 

Romantic declaration of the moment 

Violet raises reasonable concerns about Richard Carlisle but Mary is more interested in expanding her real estate portfolio and agrees to throw her lot in with a fiscal agreement disguised as a marriage. Upon his ‘miraculous’ return, Matthew gives the union his blessing on the condition that Richard remains deserving. Not that he ever really was. But the sentiment is what matters here and what is more loving* than putting another’s presumed happiness before your own.

*there are actually a lot of other more loving things but in the interest of formatting, we’re going to sweep those under a very large rug for now. 

Expressive eyebrow of the week 

Rather than training as a nurse or being actually pretty useful in a convalescent home, Mary’s contribution to the war effort is being amicable with Edith. Violet declares that she has now “seen everything” as the spirit of Mrs Adelman moves on. 

Wait, what? 

“I wish we had a man” Presented without comment 

“If I am not appreciated here, I will seek some other place” Yes. PLEASE. 

“What must he do to persuade you he is in love with Lavinia? Open his chest and carve her name on his heart” No, Mary. Matthew merely needs to carve her name with a compass on his forehead to prove that… 

“I hate the word ‘missing’. It leaves so much room for optimism.” Robert is a bit emotionally weird isn’t he? 

“We haven't kissed or anything. I don't think we've shaken hands. I'm not even sure if I like him like that. He says I do, but I'm still not sure.” And lo, another red flag is raised. But because Branson is Downton’s version of a Bolshevik, both Mary and Sybil view this not as a warning about the boy’s behaviour but rather a symbol of his political leanings and such signals are duly ignored.

“He always seems a romantic figure to me” Daisy Robinson writes fanfic. Pass it on. 

“Sometimes in war, one can make friendships that aren't quite…appropriate. And can be awkward, you know, later on. I mean, we've all done it.” Once again, Violet, tell us more! 

Bates says that he has returned to “Downton at war” which sounds like a lucrative exhibition name if I ever did hear one. 

Despite Mary’s most valiant efforts, no musical performance had ever gone out to such an impassive audience until Rosalind came along 

Matthew of course is used to a much better quality sing-, sorry, song-a-long 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph!! I was wondering if you knew of any really long fics (like 25k or more) that are only one chapter, I travel a lot sometimes and some places don't really have good enough internet for multi chapter fics. So yeah, any really long one chapter fics about John and Sherlock would be appreciated. Thank you!

Hey Nonny!!

LOL OKAY FUNNY STORY. I almost replied to this with “oof I’ll have to read EVERYTHING so I’m sorry.... and then... I remembered.......

I put chapter counts on everything 🙃😐 

I’m not the brightest crayon in the box. 🖍 

Anyway, so yes, I can definitely rec you some fics! BUT I should also offer you two suggestions you can totally do to read ANY fic!

On Ao3, you can click on the “Entire Work” button to load ALL chapters of a fic (it’s the very first button along the top) and in turn you can then just read it all there! 

And the very last button along the top, you can Download copies of the fic to your phone or computer with eBook file types (AZw3 for Kindle, ePub for iPhone’s Books app, and MOBI is for other mobile devices and e-readers), the HTML if you want to read it as-is in a web-browser, or the PDF format which is a universal file format that is supported by everything, even web browsers, so it’s a good one to download if you don’t know what format you need :) If you read on an eReader, though, I can’t recommend enough just downloading the format for your device. You get to keep a copy of the fic AND the eReader keeps it nicely formatted. It’s a BRILLIANT, BEAUTIFUL feature that Ao3 gave us, because I like downloading all my fics and read them later in iBooks. Once you start that, Nonny, you can’t do it any other way. AND at the VERY END of the fics, it links BACK to the original post so you can bookmark, kudos, and comment on it!! <3

So yeah, two options you can do to solve your poopy internet and still read long fics hee hee! <3

ANYWAY EXCUSE FOR A NEW LIST LOL. 

ALSO, side note, check out @silentauroriamthereal; a large chunk of her fics are both long AND one chapter, so it’s a good place to go and she’s a brilliant author so I don’t think you’ll be disappointed! <3 Plus a lot of her fics are on this list, so I am sorry hahah.

AND I wanted to make the list a bit longer than I had, so I picked fics over 20K, if that’s alright :) As always, if you wrote a 20k+ single chapter fic, let us know!

SINGLE CHAPTER FICS OVER 20K WORDS

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

The White Lotuses by SilentAuror (E, 20,340 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Burn, Domestic, Romance) – One day John realises that he just isn't where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

Love Is by SilentAuror (E, 21,508 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, UST / URT, Post HLV, Romance) – At Mrs Hudson’s urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him. Part 1 of Love Is

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Past Abuse) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Shallow Grave by SilentAuror (E, 31,672 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, HLV Fix It, Infidelity, Pining Sherlock, First Person POV Sherlock) – Starts as Sherlock's plane is taking off at the end of His Last Vow. When he finds out that Moriarty is alive and that he's being recalled from his mission, Sherlock decides that he should have told John how he felt before he left. So he walks off the plane and kisses him.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism || John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It's a lot less cracky than you're probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, H/C, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Bedtime Stories by Liketheriver (M, 34,388 w., 1 Ch. || Emotional H/C, Romance, Angst & Humour, Bed Sharing, John First Person, TRF, John Whump) – John's POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. Part 1 of Bedtime Universe

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

Act IV by SilentAuror (E, 39,707 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV Sherlock, HLV Fix-It, Infidelity, Angst, Drama) – After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

[love-bokumono-fics]

WIP Wednesday - Tale of Two Towns

Let's take a look at some of the WIPs in the Tale of Two Towns tag!

The Language of Flowers - by spoopybat; WIP, 69/?, 161k

Rating: Explicit; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandoms: The Tale of Two Towns Relationships: Cam | Kamil/Lillian the Farmer | Sato; Chelsea/Vaughn | Waltz

Additional Tags: **Some tags redacted to be SFW** Tags Contain Spoilers, POV Alternating, Background Relationships, Starting Over, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Minor Character Death, Background Character Death, Minor Violence, Minor Injuries, Physical Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Socially Awkward Characters. Cliche, Mutual Pining, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Emotional Baggage, References to Depression, Dysfunctional Family, Melodrama, Family Drama, First Love, First Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Loss of Virginity, First Time, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Morning Sickness, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Constipation, Arguing, Medical Conditions, Medical inaccuracies but I'm gonna do my best, Panic Attacks, Engagement, Wedding Planning, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, Honeymoon, Body Worship, Making Love, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Mental Anguish, Spa Treatments, Fights, Making Up, Mental Health Issues, Depression, Language of Flowers, Emotional reunion, Therapy

Summary: Lillian, a young woman from the Sunshine Islands, left her home and moved to Bluebell. In hopes that moving to this rural farm town to escape her troubled past and find the happy life she had always wanted.

.Bouquet of Flowers. Cam|Kamil x Italian!Reader - by Chibichibiichigo; WIP, 5/?, 6k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandoms: The Tale of Two Towns, Story of Seasons

Relationships: Cam/Reader, Kamil/Reader, Ash/Laney (Implied); Characters: Ash, Kamil | Cam, Reader, Laney

Summary: A series of oneshots revolving around Cam from HM: ToTT and SoS, falling in love with you/reader-chan who in this case, an Italian foreigner who moved to their area. With the help of his knowledge of flowers, different methods of confessions and each were shown as a chapter. I am not Italian and I'm merely relying on an online translator correct me when you can or feel like it. Feel free to suggest a flower I should do next.

Roses and Sonatas - by HalcyonEve; WIP, 2/?, 2k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Categories: F/M, Multi

Fandoms: The Tale of Two Towns

Relationships: Lillian/Cam, Lillian/Mikhail; Characters: Lillian, Cam, Mikhail, Ash, Kana, Original Characters, Georgia, Laney, Eileen, Ayame, Hiro, Dirk

Additional Tags: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangles, Reconciliation, Lost Love

Summary: A young farmer arrives to claim her inheritances in two feuding towns on opposite sides of a mountain. While settling into her new life, can she reconcile the rival villages? And when someone from her past finds her, will she be able to choose between rival loves? Told primarily as a narrative from the main character's POV, the main character (Lillian in the game) has been renamed Alice here.

The Life We Live - by ginnekomiko; WIP, 5/?, 3k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Categories: F/M, Gen

Fandoms: A New Beginning, The Tale of Two Towns, Animal Parade, Story of Seasons

Characters: Neil, Original Female Character(s), Cam

Additional Tags: To be redone

Summary: The story of three sisters. Anora from Echo Village, Ingrid from Bluebell, and Sia from Harmonica town.

Moonlight - by Tails_Is_FLUFFY; WIP, 4/?, 4k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Category: F/M

Fandoms: The Tale of Two Towns

Relationship: Dirk/The Oracle; Characters: Dirk | Dirka, The Oracle, Lillian the Farmer | Sato

Additional Tags: Romance, Mystery

Summary: A mysterious mountain dweller captures Dirk's curiosity.

The Florist and the Nurse - by Insomniacghostie; WIP, 2/?, 1.7k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply, Category: F/M

Fandoms: Friends of Mineral Town, The Tale of Two Towns

Relationship: Elli/Cam; Characters: Elli, Cam | Kamil, Doctor Trent | Torre, Claire

Additional Tags: Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, tooth rotting sweetness

[tartagilicious]

when we die, where do we go? [gavin]

+ this fic is for an anon that wanted an angsty Gavin fic, and also @queenvking​ and their request of a halloween karma inspired imagine! They don’t really figure out what Gavin’s circumstances are, but his shift still plays a big part! In addition, it was inspired by this call, gained from the evolution of Gavin’s card ‘fierce battle’. And because i took so long to write this, it’s also a semi-christmas themed one too~

→ pairing | gavin x reader (mlqc)

→ genre |vampire!au, angst w/ happy ending (ish 😳), someone’s heart is broken the usual, the mc actually trying to put her emotions aside for once in her goddamn life

→ word count | 8294 (22 pages of blood sweat and tears with a 30 minute-average reading time lol)

→ song rec | talking to the moon by bruno mars

→ note | it’s your local gavin stan here again with some hearty angst 🤠 also, originally gavin was supposed to die and then come back as a vampire (ikevamp style), but then I changed it to a coma because i’m a baby. and to make it better I did absolutely zero editing because I’ve been writing this for 2 months and just didn’t want to look at this doc any longer!! so, I’m sorry if there are any mistakes or inconsistencies~

“What are you up to?”

Gavin’s voice comes through the speaker with pressed difficulty, but his words still send relief flooding through you. From the moment you pick up the call, it marks almost a week since you’ve said even a word to him. He had left quite suddenly then, after all, and only with a vague warning that he could possibly be gone for longer than usual.

“Gavin! You finally called! Is the mission over?” You can barely describe the emotions in your chest upon hearing your boyfriend’s voice again, your smile widening as you hear him chuckle on the other end.

“It’s over.” His laugh morphs into something greater frighteningly quickly, as if he’s sighing, or even groaning.

Your brows go taut as your smile begins to falters. “You sound kind of off…”

“It’s just because I’m coming off a mission.” There’s still at least a smile hiding in his voice, but it does little to ease your arising gut feeling. “I’m tired.”

“...Am I the first person you called?”

“It’s getting really late, you’re probably anxious. So I thought, I’d call you to-”

Gavin’s voice cuts off over the line with a sharp static noise that indicates a harsh cough. The reception is bad enough that the already unclear audio is painfully fuzzy, and the combined roadblocks have worry settling deep in your stomach before you can catch it.

You bite your lip. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

His gentle laugh is tired, but portrays all the emotions he can’t voice just yet. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. Really wanna sleep all of the sudden.”

“If you’re tired, tell me where you are and I can go there right away.” You say, your worries suddenly besting you before you can even think about the words that escape your mouth.

“No, dummy.” He laughs with a familiar adoration lining the gentle sound. “It’s classified, I can’t tell you where.”

Your expression twists slightly, worry settling firmly within your chest again. “..What are you going to do?”

“My partner is close. Relax. So just, talk with me awhile. I wanna hear your voice.”

“O-ok,” Your voice falters slightly, and you try your best to cover it with a cough. “What do you want to talk about?”

The line goes quiet for a few moments, but the stillness carries a silent meaning you aren’t yet sure that you want to decipher. There’s something you aren’t picking up, you’re sure, but you have nothing but the worry of a concerned girlfriend to back your thoughts up. You quickly tell yourself it’s only natural to be nervous for Gavin, so it’s completely possible you’re just imagining things after all.

“I was wondering, are you worried about me?” He asks, earning a small and very stupefied quirk of your brow.

“On a dangerous mission like this?” You whisper, sighing softly before continuing, “Of course.”

“You know…” He pauses, the faintest sound of a grunt filling the speaker before he continues. “Ah — forget it.”

“…Forget what? Why do you always stop halfway through? Don’t you know that worries me even more?”

A moment of silence ensures before he begins again, more hesitantly. You strain your ears trying to decipher if it’s for you or for himself, but begrudgingly give up when his voice returns to normal.

“This is the first time I actually… got afraid. Doesn’t that sound ridiculous? When a bullet whizzed by my ear, all I could think of was... I haven’t returned your calls yet.”

Tears pool at your lash at your boyfriend’s confession. “Oh, Gavin…”

“Are you crying..? Don’t cry. I’ll be back soon.”

You wipe away your warm tears before they can fall, but they still peek through in your voice as you say, “I’ll be waiting. We’ve still got a lot of things to do together.”

“I’ll take you to the movies, or maybe even karaoke.” He pushes out a strained snicker, admitting more of his condition than he has since you picked up the call. “I bet you’re dying to find out how tone deaf I am.”

You laugh along through your tears. “Nonsense! You’re obviously a good singer!”

Gavin is silent yet again for a few painstaking moments before he begins to whisper, his voice cracking slightly under change as he says your name. “___, I might not say it often, but I just want you to know that you matter so much to me. I’m so glad to have met you again. ``I love you.”

Looking back on that call, you don’t know why you refused to believe what you already knew was true. Maybe if you had, things would have gone differently. But even in the end, it seems that he was only trying to keep you from worrying, granted that this time, it may have almost cost him his life in return.

Gavin goes quiet a mere few minutes later, his phone slipping straight out of his hands to hit the ground hard. And yet, even as you already know what’s probably become of him by then, you still can’t bring yourself to hang up. His shallow breaths have almost completely ceased, and there’s barely an intelligible sound coming from the other side of the line save for the quiet echo of the blowing wind.

You let out a shaky breath as you continue to strain your ear for even the littlest signs of life, but can’t even find relief in his slight breath in and out.

He’s close to death and it kills you that you can’t do anything about it.

You soon hear footsteps rushing over on his side, and quite suddenly, you’re put to the ear of Gavin’s partner and good friend, Eli. You’d only met him briefly before, having barely managed to share even a single conversation back then because of your business with the STF. And because Gavin has never particularly been one to put you in any unnecessary danger, that was the last time you talked to him.

It’s depressing that your second meeting has to be in such gruesome circumstances.

“Sir, it’s still on.”

A voice you don’t recognise says these words faintly, and after a few seconds of radio silence, they wordlessly pick Gavin’s phone up and hand it over to Eli.

Eli mumbles briefly and unidentifiably before putting his mouth to the phone’s speaker

“___. I probably shouldn’t have expected anyone else but you to be the person he’d call in a time like this.”

You appreciate his attempt to lighten the atmosphere, but that’s far from what you need right now. You just go quiet in response, trying your best to gather yourself before speaking. “...Is this Eli?”

“It is.” You hear him swallow tighty as shuffling presumes in the background. “I’m so sorry, ___.”

Nothing but meaningless background noises fill the room, and your attention mixes with it. You can’t help but zone out of Eli’s consoling words and rather go to focus intently on keeping your sporadic heartbeat still.

“Please help him, Eli. He’s still alive, I know --”

“Ok.” He interrupts, inferably for your sake as words freeze in your throat. “I’ll try my best, ___.”

Your breathing is laboured and tears are streaming down your cheeks, but you don’t dare to try and stop them altogether. There’s only one thing — one person — that could manage to make you feel better right now, and that’s hardly yourself.

But for the time being, it’s impossible.

Gavin’s unit almost immediately decides to bring him into intensive care for fear of the possibility of his evol losing control under his fragile state of comatose. It’s rare for such things to occur in those stages, but everyone is in a silent agreement that it isn’t necessarily wrong to take precautions; especially since Gavin isn’t exactly typical. After all, his long years of being an evol agent have made his powers finely developed and too powerful to run freely when he’s in no place to control them.

You’re allowed to see him again around a week later.

You’d been given no specific date for the event upon your chat with Eli that day, but the time still comes faster than you thought it would. The organisation is a complicated web that you still don’t completely understand, so for all you know, those complications could have very well taken much longer.

Eli is the first to greet you when you go to the STF that day, and only silently leads you to the medical ward Gavin is being supervised in. There isn’t much for him to say, but it’s not like you necessarily have the capacity to ask about the details of your boyfriend’s death yet anyway.

“Be careful with him, okay? I know it’s a given, but we’re trying to make sure he’s stable before we make any other moves. So, just make sure not to touch the equipment.”

You give him your best smile in response. “Okay, I won’t. Thank you for everything.”

He nods, opting to give you some space as he retreats in the opposite direction. You aren’t sure that it would matter either way, though, as you stand there long after Eli had rounded the corner. It’s not like you can help your hesitation — your fear — but you still feel tense ignoring the very thing you’ve been pining after for days when it’s right in front of you.

You have no idea what to expect beyond that door.

Are his signs of stupor visible even after such a short amount of time? You hope to god that isn’t the case, praying that you’ll be able to look at your boyfriend again as someone who only looks as though they’re in a deeper sleep than usual.

But you’re afraid that you’ll open the door and find his body to be like the movies: pale, cold, and utterly lifeless without a shadow of a doubt. This the real world — your prayers certainly don’t have to be answered, and your fears won’t always be catered to. That’s what scares you the most.

And the very moment you finally gather enough courage to grip the door handle with your clammy palms and push it open, you know the world is too unforgiving.

The steady beeping from the heart monitor is barely noticeable over the heavy silence of the room, only a select few devices working actively to keep your lover alive. He is indefinitely stuck in a place of stagnicity, but there’s not even so much as an audible sound from the unit to tell you so. There’s only a slight buzz from the machinery aiding him, because sadly, there is so little left of Gavin to aid.

Your footsteps are heavy and rushed as you make your way over to him, but you still hesitate to touch him for a few fleeting moments. His skin is indeed frigid on the eye, yet it feels much colder to your warm touch.

Gripping his hand tightly as tears threaten to spill, you reach out to gingerly brush the bangs out of his eyes. You find that usually, due to the stress of his never-ending list of responsibilities, Gavin’s brows are usually slightly pinched. And yet, he looks uncharacteristically calm in the absence of consciousness.

You sweep a thumb lightly over his brow, swallowing harshly as you breathe back hot tears.

Gavin’s lying in front of you once again, yet, you still felt helpless. That didn’t change — it never had.

He’s alive in your memory, taking leaps and bounds into the past that only pushes the despair deeper into your stomach. You touch over every aspect of him in your head: every time he protected you, every time he sacrificed something for you, every time he kissed you—

It takes a lot to shake away the memories as your tears finally begin to spill.

You would do anything to rewind time. Anything to see him smile again, anything to have him next to you, alive and well again. Because that night he had called you, he was right: there really was so much you hadn’t experienced together.

Your eyes flit up to his face again, and you bite your quivering lip hard. The sobs that leave you aren’t languid nor graceful, and rather show the depth of your grief much better than any action does.

The reality of the situation is harsh, and unlike the movies, it doesn’t help you grow; it’s not a moment of staggering realisation. Instead, it’s despair clawing at your chest like a caged animal, and your headache blooming into a thorny flower that can hardly be called touching.

“Gavin,” You whisper this gently, your hand falling down to his cheek to tenderly brush your fingers over his cold skin. Placing a final kiss on your forehead with blurry eyes, you whisper to him.

“I love you.”

When we die, where do we go?

It’s certainly an abstract thought, one you’re not even quite sure you want to delve into, but continue to anyway upon the striking memory of Gavin’s cold skin under your fingertips. Though there’s hope for him to wake, of course, the awful possibility of death still looms over your head as a constant grim reminder.

Some describe the place after death as a paradise, where you’re gifted a golden halo and luxuries on the condition you lived an innocent life. While on the complete opposite side, it’s depicted as an inhumane switch over to a ghastly figure: ghosts, demons, put it how you will, all are perceived the same.

But you don’t want to think about what you believe, because to you, there’s no reason to.

Months go by where your angel is still absent, stuck in the dreadful place beyond life and yet still below complete death. His indefinite state of stagnicity continues to keep him well under surveillance at that time by not only the STF but also yourself -- all in hopes of a miracle bringing him back to you all.

His evol aiding him, his body finally healing, even a deity in the sky deciding that they’d made the wrong choice in taking him away: every single possibility is counted by you. And foolishly, it gives you hope.

To lean on the power of prayer alone is half witted and you’ve been made aware of that many times, but sadly, it’s the only chance you have, so you won’t let it slip through your fingers for small reasons like that.

You’ve been through so much with Gavin — from the time you’d reconnected to the last day you’d talked to him, you would take little of it back. He’s your partner partner in life that you feel proud to stand beside, and maybe it’s selfish, but you wish for his return more than anything else in the world.

Only, you know that you’ll have to prepare for the inevitable fate of the world turning a blind eye to your wishes once again.

It’s hard to continue on when such a huge piece of your life is suddenly missing, and in those months, you find yourself struggling more than you thought possible. But you’re grateful for the people that have chosen to stay by your side throughout the hard times, even if someone in particular was largely unprecedented.

But Victor’s help still means a lot to you.

In a way, he doesn’t change much from his usual self. He softens under your difficulties still, but continues to be his usual demanding and headstrong self for as long as it’s good for him. Yet Victor’s normally irritating traits are still surprisingly easy to repurpose to get you back on your feet, and they effectively act as a healthy buffer between you and reality for as long as he’ll allow it.

And with his help, you find yourself slowly clawing your way out of the hole you’ve been buried in for months. Slowly but surely, every hand he offers you eases you out of your pain with more success each time.

Winter rolls around and you’re feeling the best you have in a long time. Granted, it’s not amazing, but it’s still progress. You’re noticeably healthier, looser, even — and yet you still can’t help but hide the sadness and regret you feel. Because no matter what, you know that the one who’s given you so much will never live up to the person you’ve lost.

The upcoming holiday season is only another reminder of that, your nerves spiking at the thought of your first Christmas without Gavin. Though Victor is there to help, of course, you’re afraid that you’ll end up taking the change too hard.

After all, your hope for Gavin to wake is just as bright as the day you had shared that short call with him, but even more so now upon the timing. Because along with the season, it’s also been almost an entire year since then. Your longing for your boyfriend’s healing is stronger than ever as a result, and even beside others, you find yourself to be as lonely as can be without him.

Being healthier, being happier on the outside, all of it only hides what you can’t help but feel on the inside. The depressing situation leaves a bitter taste on your tongue that only grows with each passing day — and your grief turns into a monster you find yourself battling every single day.

Truly, you continue to believe that you’re at your limit every single day.

But then something changes. Something in the heavens, something in the deity that you’d pictured giving Gavin everything he wanted in the afterlife, something in fate. And slowly, the course of life starts to change, too.

The days have always tended to go by faster when you’re afraid of something. You’ve known that for a long time after being nervous for school presentations, job interviews, and even plain-old events throughout the years. But you think that nothing you’ve ever been through compares to now, when Christmas is suddenly only a few days away and there’s not even a single word from Eli on Gavin’s condition changing.

The sight of festivities is enough to make you nauseous with so much as even a glance. Yet still, that doesn’t stop your oh-so gracious caregiver from decorating his house on his own, stringing every light and hanging every ornament by his hands alone.

Tapping your fingers on the mahogany of Victor’s dining table one night he invites you over, you’re quickly broken out of your thoughts by a loud sigh.

“You know, you’re going to wear a hole in the table if you keep doing that, and it’s coming right out of your paycheck.”

Maybe you would have normally laughed, but his joke only harmlessly bounces off of you as you retract your hand and let it fall to your lap. “Oh. Sorry.”

SIlence ensues before Victor sighs again.

“...Is there something wrong, ___?”

His voice is a gentler one, the same he’d used when he’d found you trying to piece a glass back together with bloody hands all that time ago. It’s the voice that once gave you comfort, but now only offers guilt.

Your eyes shoot over to where he’s sitting on the couch across the room, slowly taking in the way he’s shut his laptop and now directs his full attention to you.

“It’s almost Christmas.” You say vaguely, forcing a smile as Victor’s brows go slightly taut. Thankfully, you don’t have to explain any more than that.

“I’m sorry, ___. It’ll be hard, but I know you can get through it.”

“Maybe,” You pick up your head as your smile drops. “But that’s not what I want to hear anymore.”

Victor returns your gaze, and under that action, you helplessly avert your eyes. Even with his limitless kindness over the past few months, you still can’t help the inexplicable wall between the two of you. Maybe it’s your own fault, or maybe it’s just a difference in viewpoints -- but whatever the case, your methods of fixation almost always seem to differ.

His voice goes uncharacteristically soft as he busies his hands with the computer sitting in his lap. “I’m sorry that I can’t help you as much. If there’s anything else I can do—“

He trails off when you blink in response, your adam’s apple bobbing as you fold your arms on the table in front of you.

“No, whatever I do in this situation is up to me. I’m grateful for your help, but you have nothing to do with what happens to me.” You sigh. “I can’t rely on you forever.”

You can’t see his eyes, but in a fleeting moment you do, you swear that they almost beg for your opinion to differ. It’s a kind gesture, you think, yet it’s unfortunately not something that’s very realistic.

Victor doesn’t push it, just standing up and nonchalantly walking past you to the sink. He’s never been very persistent to you, and though that might’ve bothered you before, you’ve never been happier about his weird quirk than you have in that moment.

“Dummy,” he mumbles, his quiet words lost to you above the sound of the faucet running. You sit there in comfortable silence as he washes off his dish, and almost jerk in surprise when he starts speaking again a few minutes later.

“Celebrate Christmas with me this year.”

It’s blunt, and the wording doesn’t make it sound like an offer as much as it does a demand. But only because you’ve come to know Victor, you know his words are as genuine as they come.

“...I couldn’t impose on something like that.” You shake your head.

“You wouldn’t be imposing on anything,” He says, reaching casually for the towel next to him as he dries his plate off. “I have a function to go to that day, and though I was originally going to go alone, I thought it sounded like something you might like.”

You process his words for a few moments. He thought it sounded like something I’d like? Is Victor not feeling well?

“Are you sure…?”

“If I wasn’t sure, would I have asked?”

Ah, there he is.

The days after that seem to tick down faster and faster until before you know it, you’re waking up alone in bed on Christmas morning with an entirely new sensation running through your chest. As you force your eyes open to meet the forenoon sun, the change in atmosphere the occasion has warranted suddenly makes you hyper-aware of the empty space next to you.

Sorry Victor, you think tiredly, but now begins the start of what will probably be the most awful day ever.

You drag yourself out of bed after a few minutes and walk through your sparsely decorated apartment to the kitchen in favour of caffeine over anything else. But unfortunately, even when partaking in such a mundane action, Gavin manages to be everywhere. The hand you reach blindly into the cabinet comes out with a pretty cerulean mug -- only one of the many things he had gifted you last christmas.

The mug almost seems to mock you in your hand, but you mentally push it away and just put it beneath the coffee machine’s filter without another thought. You’ve gotten horridly good at ignoring your emotions over the period of time you’ve been left alone, and though you’re certain it’s not a good thing, at times it proves to be one of your greatest assets.

Because the more you can ignore the sinking feeling in your chest, the more you’re used to being without it.

You know undoubtedly that Christmas morning for most is a happy occasion -- children rush downstairs to a heartily decorated tree with their parents in wait, screams of delight from people of all ages when receiving a desired gift, and especially gatherings for family, friends, and lovers alike. But for the first time, Christmas means something horribly new to you.

Sipping your coffee and trying your best to ignore the scorching feeling of it, you sit on your couch and imagine yourself sinking back into the cushions. Maybe if you did, the day would pass by unnoticed. But then again, that would also mean that you would miss Victor’s invitation, and you were admittedly curious of the man’s vague offer.

Along with the upcoming holidays, a large part of your attention in the past weeks has been on what Victor said that night at his house. He had refused to tell you specifically what it was, only choosing to disclose that it seemed like something you would like and dismissing the conversation from there. It was a very characteristic thing of him to do -- and if you weren’t already up to your knees in his antics, maybe you would have dived a bit deeper into it.

You sigh out a breath of warm air at the thought, the coffee’s previously sweet aroma coming out half-baked. But the strange smell doesn’t even so much as vex you anymore as you cradle the warm mug between your knees, pulling your phone out of your pyjama pocket in hopes to distract yourself in the few hours you have until Victor comes around.

“You’ll be cold if you only wear that. Put on a hat or a scarf, if you have one.”

You shake your head and put on a smile as you shrug on your jacket later in the day. “No, I don’t need to. I’m used to the cold, don't worry.”

A small sound of discontent escapes Victor’s lips.

“You know, it doesn’t matter how used to it you think you are,” He says firmly, his hands instinctively going up to grip the lapels of his own coat. “You’re still going to be cold where we’re headed.”

You give him a suspicious look as you reach for a hat hanging on the hook by the door in your apartment, not breaking eye contact even as you pull it over your head as far as it can go.

When your eyes are momentarily covered, you swear you hear him chuckle.

“Is this good?” You ask.

“No, too much,” he mumbles, not caring to hide the laughter lining his voice as he reaches out and softly tugs it above your eyes.

The moment the soft fabric comes up into its rightful place, you’re met with Victor’s eyes awfully close to your own. And though you can’t fight the embarrassing heat that rushes to your cheeks, you just smile as if unaware of it.

“Fine, Mr I Know Everything, is that suitable for you?”

Something begins to shift in his eyes. but it’s barely for even a second, so you have a hard time catching it before it goes away again.

“You can let yourself think that,” he answers vaguely, a small smile curving on his lips as he turns back towards the door. “But we’ll know for sure later.”

You swallow back any thoughts daring to jump out and just nod, plastering on the same smile that you’ve been refining for months.

“I swear I won’t be cold! Now let’s go, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

Going ahead of him to reopen your apartment’s door, you take a quick look behind you again and usher him forwards. Victor gives you a slightly scrutinising look, but well accustomed to it, you only stare back as he ignores you and goes past you.

Where you’re going -- the very place he’d so dutifully refused to tell you -- is a mystery to you up until the moment he gets started on the route.

“Wait, you’re taking me there?” You blurt out as soon as you put what you think are the pieces together, looking over at him from the passenger seat. Victor gives no response but the slight twitch of his lips, but that’s answer enough for you.

LFG is almost notorious for hosting elaborate Christmas parties each year: events that are raved about by the men and the women who attend, though still second only to the CEO’s judgment. You don’t know the specifics, but Victor has never particularly seemed to enjoy the holiday season, even when you tended to be more enthusiastic about it in the past.

But even if the yearly Christmas event had been one of your guesses when Victor originally mentioned his offer back then, it was still impossible to guess any further as the event tends to vary drastically per year. And since that’s still the best your guess can do, you opt to stare out the window and try to clear your head instead. Because right now, at least you’re in a suitable headspace to distract yourself from strong sense of loneliness that’s taken great care in hiding itself.

Gavin has been off your mind since this morning, but you know that the sensation will be short-lived. It always is.

Victor catches your attention again by turning the key in the ignition, effectively tearing you away from your thoughts as you go to look out the window. And you can’t help your jaw dropping at the sight in front of you.

This year, LFG has revamped the entire park to look like some kind of winter wonderland. Festive decorations make the scene merry, booths look like they’re filled to the brim with goods, and not to mention the main feature -- the beautiful frozen lake designated specifically for ice-skating. It’s wonderful, and for a few moments, an overwhelming sense of joy comes over you.

“Victor!” The pitch of your voice goes slightly higher when you turn around to look at him. “Your company did all this?”

Victor only stares at you for a few moments, as if not anticipating your reaction, and just chuckles.

“Of course, dummy. Who else would’ve?”

You ignore his snide comment and turn towards the window again, sighing slowly in relief as you take in the scenery yet again. You thought that having a good time today would be impossible, but now looking at everything from a different perspective, you think that maybe it’s your duty to have as much fun as you usually do -- if not for yourself, for Gavin.

“Are you ready or what?”

“Yes!”

On Victor’s cue, you get out of the car and walk ahead of him, peering inside booths and sizing everything up as you go. Just as you first predicted, the booths are overflowing with everything ranging from traditional ornaments to steaming baked goods, only, they seem to have everything in between in addition.

“You really prepared this well,” You say, phrasing it as a compliment as you lean slightly in front of a booth to pick up a small stuffed polar bear. “Everything is so nice.”

He’s quiet from behind you, but you can almost see his small content nod in your mind’s eye.

“Good. See anything you like? Consider it a present.”

You whip around at his offer, brow quirked.

“And it won’t come out of my wage this time?”

His mouth curls up, his expression almost sour. “What do you mean this time? You think I’d do that? Or in case you didn’t realise, it’s Christmas, ___.

“I know, I’m sorry!” You can’t help but laugh at his reaction. “It was only a joke.”

Victor grumbles about it but doesn’t look unhappy.

“But, Victor, I think I know what I want.” You say, gripping the little polar bear in your hands and turning around to him. His eyes don’t meet the stuffed toy right away, but when they do, he doesn’t look very surprised.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “It’s only been a few minutes.”

You nod, looking down into the toy’s familiarly amber eyes with a small smile twitching on your lips.  

“I’m sure.”

You hand it over to Victor, but as the cashier notices him walking up, she freezes. Her face heats up as recognition flashes through her eyes, but he promptly ignores her and goes to reach into his coat pocket.

“Sir,” She sputters, shaking her head as a nervous laugh escapes her throat. “There’s no need for you to pay.”

He ignores her yet again, pulling out a leather-bound wallet.

“No matter who I am,” He begins, his voice dropping into a brusque tone. It’s oddly chilly compared to his voice only moments before, but why, you don’t know and don’t ask. “It’s irresponsible to assume I don’t have to pay.”

Her face gets redder as the presumably kind thing to do blows up in her face. And after she apologises, they continue the process in painful silence that’s hurtful to even you, someone who’s not inherently in the conversation.

“Thank you for the offer,” You say this from beside Victor, smiling in what you hope is reassurance. “It wasn’t wrong of you to do that, and I appreciate your thought a lot.”

The young woman seems grateful for your interruption, and nods before bowing her head slightly. But, you don’t catch the curious look in Victor’s eyes as she says, “Please have a good rest of your night.”

Victor leads you away from the booth in what would look like a normal saunter to any onlookers, but knowing him as you do, you see the things no one else does. It’s definitely not something you see from him often, but that only means that you have the sight of it deeper engraved in your memory:

Something has just surprised him.

“Victor?” You reach over and put a hand on his arm as you walk, quirking a brow when he looks over at you with a slightly conflicted gaze. “Are you okay?”

You both stop near the middle of the makeshift square, and seeing your expression clearly under the lights now, Victor only sighs.

“I’m fine.”

And that’s about all you get out of him, but you know not to push it any further.

Soon enough, his mood swings are the least of your concern anyway. Because as you go around with the bag over your arm for the rest of the night, you feel a sudden yet horrible sense of nostalgia washing over you. It’s the same issue every year during the holidays, good memories calling up deja vu that still lead forth fulfilling nights, but this year, it’s different.

Your nostalgia is a constant cycle instead of a straight feeling, wherein the twisting memories are replaced by sadness further on. But for what feels like the first time, that same melancholic feeling is being accompanied by an out of place rush of happiness.

And for the first time, genuinely, since you were told that Gavin might not wake, you feel happy.

You feel nothing but triumph as Victor is dumbfounded by your laugh, like the sound itself is foreign to him. You enjoy things that you couldn’t before because of pressing memories, and like that you’re able to see everything with a clearer gaze again. You don’t have such a foreboding force crushing down on you, and it feels amazing to live without as much grief, even if it might only be for one night.

But then, going later and later into the night and finally having to acknowledge that it’s all good as over -- well, that’s a different story. There’s the same kind of purpose in each step that you’d been gifted hours before, but they come with less strength now. They’re dull, almost as if because the night is coming to an end, the effects of everything are suddenly beginning to wear off, too.

It’s a shame, you think, because you really could get used to a feeling like that.

You and Victor are some of the only people left in the park when you look at your watch, but you don’t mind much. Actually, even if you have to be here alone, you’d probably still choose to stay a bit longer. Because, maybe it’s selfish, but you don’t want to be sad again.

Surprise jolts through you as a hand comes down to land on your shoulder, effectively breaking your thoughts,but you relax again when your eyes shoot up to meet Victor’s.

“Stay here for a minute. I have to discuss something with a park manager.”

Not able to find the words to respond, you just nod.

And soon enough, you’re alone just as you wished. It’s not exactly what you’d imagined, and if anything, you only feel desolate standing in what’s supposed to be such a happy place by yourself.

Quite fed up with all the twists and turns the emotions in your chest are doing in those moments, you stuff your frozen hands into your coat pocket with enough force to send a small shiver through you. But while doing so, you remember your phone, still remaining dutifully in the same pocket you’d put it in at the beginning of the day. The surface is fairly cold, having been off for so long, but you still feel some sort of silly peace when the screen flashes to tell you it’s powering on again anyway.

You lose that sense fairly quickly.

The phone screen turns on almost immediately, signified with a small vibrate at the palm of your hand. And when it does, you’re met with a sight you never thought you’d see. The lock-screen, which would normally be a cute picture you’d taken while in the mediterranean with Gavin, was now completely covered by a mass of missed calls and texts from Eli.

Your breath freezes in your throat as your eyes take in the contents of the screen, and for a moment, it seems like all of your senses are gone. You want to assume the best, you want to assume the worst -- but at the least, you want to assume that everything is okay. It’s only been a couple hours since everything was made, and you hold on tightly to the belief that whatever happened, Eli handled it.

With trembling fingers and an equally trembling heart, you call him back.

“___!”

He picks up on the first ring, and you feel horrible immediately thinking that you have to prepare yourself for the worst. You’ve only been conditioned to feel that way, after all, and it’s admittedly a hard habit to break.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, a little more frantically than you’d meant to. “My phone’s been off all day.”

Eli only sends a breathy laugh coming through the speaker, leaving your nerves to hang for a few more seconds before delivering the final blow.

“___, I’ve never believed in Christmas miracles, but he’s awake. Gavin’s really back for real this time.”

Your heart stops.

Turning the words over and over in your head, you can’t help but feel surprised when you come up without a single clear explanation. There’s an indescribable type of joy that clouds your thoughts, but even so, you still know bright as day -- your prayers, albeit late, have finally been answered.

“...Are you okay?”

You snap out of the haze you’re in to Eli’s curious voice over the speaker, and quickly apologise as you wipe the tears from your eyes.

“I’m fine.” You croak, sniffing as you try and wipe the embarrassed tint from your cheeks. “Thank you so much, Eli. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Able to hear the man’s bashfulness in his response, you find it hard to hold back a smile.

“Would it be okay for me to come and see him? I know there’s probably still complications--”

Eli interrupts you before you can so much as get the meat of your sentence out. “No, yes! Please do! The guy’s been asking about you since the moment he could form complete sentences!”

You pull your lips together in an attempt to stop the noise raising in your throat, although it doesn’t work very well. So, you just nod and nod silently in hopes that will convey your emotion enough, and then inevitably realise how much of an extreme sport it is to keep from crying when you really, really want to.

“___?”

Another voice calls your name from behind you, effectively startling you out of your thoughts. So, you quickly finish your conversation with Eli and try to at least make yourself presentable before turning around.

Once you do, you’re met with Victor, who stands there patiently with his arms crossed over his chest. But his calm expression melts into one of confusion once he glimpses at your face.

“Are you okay?” He quickly walks over to you as you curse yourself inside your head for not doing a better job of cleaning up. “Why are you crying?”

You stumble over your words, looking up at him with teary eyes and a wide smile you can’t seem to wipe off your face. “Victor--”

He puts a hand on your shoulder, still hesitating slightly after all these months.

“Yes?” He whispers quietly, prompting you on.

“He’s finally awake.” You laugh through tears, sniffing as you wipe your eyes. “Gavin’s finally awake.”

You feel as if he’s happy for you, but because of your hands obstructing your eyes, you don’t see the depressingly blank look on his face.

But, he thinks, maybe it’s better that she doesn’t.

“If he’s awake,” Victor hesitates again before taking his hand off your shoulder and stepping past you. “Then let’s go. I’ll bring you home so you can change and go wherever you need to.”

Nodding gratefully, you go after him and decide that you’re ready to face whatever comes your way from then on.

“Thank you so much, Victor. For everything” You offer a smile to him as you walk back to his car, but yet again, don’t notice the pain in eyes as he smiles back.

“Anything.”

Eli runs up to you the moment you set foot in the STF around an hour later. A healthy time, you think, but not nearly quick enough for your racing thoughts.

Things like ‘what if something happens before I can get there?’ or ‘what if he goes under again while I’m stuck in traffic?’ rush through your head, but luckily, Eli’s there to cajole you otherwise.

“How is he?”

You ask this tentatively as Eli punches in a passcode for the medical ward. He doesn’t so much as look up from what he’s doing, but you still see his eyes soften with your words.

“He’s fine, apart from the obvious.” Eli laughs at his own dry joke, and  “It’s just strange, how he’s awake all of the sudden. I guess I’m not really supposed to be talking about it, but it’s only you.”

You try to push him along with your eyes, and catching your gaze, he does.  

“When he woke up…” Eli trails off as his finger hovers in the air, as if just over the last needed number in the keypad. “His injuries were almost completely healed.”

Your brows knit. “What? Healed?”

Eli shakes his head as the door gives an affirmative beep and slides open.

“Yeah. It’s weird, isn’t it? He was still wrapped up in those awful bandages and hanging onto life support a few days ago, and now he’s awake with barely any side effects.”

You don’t know whether to be curious or concerned at the information.

“What side effects does he have, then?”

Assuming the worst, you can’t help but be surprised when Eli just shrugs, talking as he turns a corner. You follow in haste, but are stopped almost as quickly at the sight in front of you.

It’s not like you haven’t been in the medical ward before, but the sight of various officers unconscious makes you slightly sick to your stomach. Some are having their last days, some their worst -- it all stirs something in you. You can only be glad your boyfriend isn’t one of them.

“He’s a little drowsy, so we can’t get much more than that.” Eli gets your attention again, to where you realise that he stopped to wait for you. “But for right now, it’s only a matter of expecting the worst so nothing else happens.”

Quickly apologising, you pick up walking next to him again, where he calmly and understandingly resumes.

“Whether it has something to do with his evol or another thing entirely, at least he’s making progress.” He muses, his lips twisting slightly in thought.

You can only nod in silent agreement.

Something doesn’t sound right to you, but it wouldn’t do any good to point out what everyone already knows. Gavin is awake, and maybe Eli’s right: perhaps that’s all that should matter for now.

Eli stops before you even realise it, and in mere moments, you’re staring up at the door to the very room that months ago you never wanted to set foot in again. But noticing your repetitious reluctance, Eli vouches to say one last thing before walking off.

“He’s been really stressed out, asking if you were okay like that. Treat him well, ___.”

Your insides melt at his soft words, and with tears blooming, you nod and turn back to the door. You’re alone in the hall again, almost as if you had travelled back 8 months in time, but this time it’s different. You’re here to see your lover alive.

So, for a change, you push the door open without a second thought.

“Be careful when eating, it seems your teeth have shifted a bit more.” A nurse chastises Gavin while she replaces an IV. “We don’t want any long-term side effects.”

You try not to draw attention to yourself, but the natural human instinct for eyes to be drawn towards motion sells you out first.

Gavin is frozen where he sits, but the nurse standing above him only sends you a patient smile. She’s an older woman close to what looks like salt and pepper hair, with faint lines decorating her face to show years of passing emotions.

The nurse hums. “Miss ___? I was told to wait for someone.”

You can only nod, forcing your eyes away from Gavin to acknowledge the woman for even just a second.

She gives you a once-over and smiles again, as if silently sharing a secret with you. But, you’re not nearly paying enough attention to give it much thought. Still, you hope it’s in good graces as she whispers her wishes for you to have a good holiday when walking past you to the door.

“...Gavin?”

You can only force out his name as the door clicks shut behind you.

“___.”

He sounds breathless, almost yearning, and the sound of his voice alone brings lost tears crashing over your cheeks.

Gavin isn’t one to show many emotions unabashed, but in that moment, you swear he doesn’t hold anything back any longer. Unsaid words flood from his eyes just as easily as tears come from yours, and in a moment, you’re next to him again.

Touching him again is rejuvenating.

It feels silly to think, but you swear that you can feel everything falling back into place again when he wraps his arms around your waist. It’s as if his touch is somehow forcing bad memories away: the bad memories of crying yourself to sleep; the bad memories of missing him so badly that your chest would hurt; and the horrible sinking realisation that you might not ever see him breathing again -- it all pacifies when you felt his breath on your skin.

“Are you okay?” He asks this softly, his voice slightly muffled by your jacket. You can’t do anything but shake your head.

“Always worrying about me,” You try to click your tongue through your whispers, although the action is just sad. “Even until what I thought was the end. Worry about yourself first, would you?”

It should be a joke, but neither of you laugh. He only sighs into your chest in a silent apology as you pull him closer, and you try to find pride in the possibility that just maybe, you’re giving him the same feeling he’s giving you.

“What about you?” Your teary mumble is lost along with your fingers in the tendrils of his hair, but the words still manage to reach him perfectly anyway. “Eli told me that you’re quite the superhuman.”

He doesn’t answer you with words, only nodding in confirmation. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to talk about it, but even if that is the case, you still understand. It’s likely that he knows just as much as everyone else does about his condition, but that doesn’t make it any less of a touchy subject.

“I hope everything is cleared up soon.” You say this softly in retraction. “It might be selfish, but I really, really want you to come back.”

“It’s not selfish,” You can feel his quiet laugh as he speaks, and it’s almost as if the heavy atmosphere from only a few seconds ago dissipated with his smile alone. “I missed you, a lot more than I should have been able to while I was like that.”

You finally pull back to look him in the eye, and he takes your hand in his with a such a swift motion that it shouldn’t even be possible for a man that was on the brink of death not even days ago.

But you don’t dwell on it. You don’t want to dwell on it. It might be strange, supernatural, even, but all that matters to you in that moment is that your lover is finally awake in your arms again.

And you hope with all your heart that it will stay that way.

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Twelve - You’re a Tree

ATTENTION: REFERENCE TO DOMESTIC VIOLENCE -  I tried to keep it soft as much as I could, but some people may be triggered.

Despite Victor’s insistent protests, I didn’t go to the hospital, compromising with letting him drive me home. Victor followed me to my apartment, his hand steady on my back. He didn’t wait for me to invite him in, getting in the moment I opened the door and going straight to my kitchen.

“You have an upset stomach. You should have some tea and a light meal to comfort it.” He stated, rummaging my cabinets.

“I’m going to need something stronger than tea, I’m afraid.” I said, going for the cabinet where I kept my liquor. I took a bottle of tequila. “Bring me two glasses from the cabinet, please.”

“It’s not even noon”.” Victor scolded me. I rolled my eyes at him.

“Like they say, it’s five o’clock somewhere.” I bitterly joked.

Victor gave me a steely look and sighed to show his frustration. With a dictatorial attitude, he walked to me and tried to take the bottle from my hand. I quickly moved my arm behind my back, my eyes daring him to try again.

“Look, I said I’m fine already. I’m an adult and I can take care of myself, and I think I know better than you what I need, and I definitely do not need a babysitter. So either you sit and drink, or you leave. I’m fine with either of them.” I said, defiantly placing the tequila bottle on the table with a thump.

Reading his expression, I could swear he was going to leave, which was exactly what I intended. To my dismay, he sat down and poured both of us a drink. He slumped on his chair as he took a sip of tequila.

“I'm worried about you.” He confessed softly.

“You don’t need to be, I’m fine.” I retorted.

“Right. Because pouring alcohol on an empty stomach shows me exactly how fine you are.”

“Why exactly do you care so much, Victor?” I knew he meant well, but I was in a bad mood, and he was getting on my nerves. I took another sip of my drink, feeling the burn in my chest numb me just a little.

“I told you I called your previous employees to inquiry about your performance, do you remember?” He started softly.

“Right, the “golden child” speech. How could I forget?” I answered bitterly.

“I also asked Goldman to pull your criminal and medicals files.” He paused. “It’s a legal requirement for immigrant employees.”

I felt the floor moving under me. He knew about the abuse.

“I’m such an idiot…” I said, holding my head with my hands. “Of course you’d do a background check.” I couldn’t even look at him, I was mortified. “How much do you know?” My voice wasn’t much louder than a whisper.

“Just that you filed a domestic violence complaint and were hospitalized for about a month.” His voice was deep and low, almost like he was sorry for knowing.

“My case was all over the Portuguese media. Did you see that too?”

“A newspaper article saying you had dropped the charges.”

I sighed, trying to keep my tears at bay. I felt vulnerable, naked, exposed. Worse than that, the person I had feelings for knew how helpless I was, and that rose the worst feeling of them all: pity.

“Is that why you’ve been helping me? Because you feel sorry for me?”

“No.” Victor said, looking me in the eyes. “What happened to you doesn’t make me think any less of you.”

“Bullshit.” I said, not believing him one bit. “There’s a stigma. When something like this happens to you, people look at you differently. That’s why I left Portugal in the first place. They wonder, Victor, they wonder a lot. Their fairytale illusion shatters on the ground and they take offense. They feel they have the right to ask. How can a girl like you end up in such a situation? You could have any other guy! or, How come didn’t you look for help right away, if he was so bad to you?, or, my absolute favorite of all time, How come an educated girl like you, with such loving parents that raised you so well, ends up so helpless in the first place? And you know, I wouldn’t hold it against you if you thought I was an idiot. I think I’m an idiot.”

I filled my empty glass with more tequila, and swallowed most of it in one go.

“It’s not like he had it written on his forehead, you know. I wish he had some kind of sign saying I’m going to put you in a coma one of these days. That would’ve been helpful. Truth is, he was a gentleman. He was kind, and loving, and caring, and sweet. Damn, he was the love of my life. He was the man I thought I was going to love my whole life, no one after him, no one before him. He was my eternity. When he said, date me, I did it without thinking. When he said, move in with me, I jumped in without hesitation. I did all that he wanted, started working for his family, started building a life with him, lost in my own fairytale illusion, not really realizing that he was fencing me in. When he had me right where he wanted me, away from my family and friends, totally under his dominion, the violence started. First, it was because I came home late, and there would be an ugly argument. Then because he didn’t think my blouse was appropriate, another argument. The first time he slapped me was because I went to the supermarket and didn’t tell him. He thought I was cheating.”

I emptied my second glass and filled it again, filling Victor’s too. I drank in silence, not really caring to look at Victor, feeling ashamed, humiliated, infuriated.

“From that moment on, every single argument we had would pretty much end with me bleeding on the floor.” I paused and laughed bitterly, the whole scene playing inside my head. “Then he would come to take care of me, icepack and painkillers in his hand. He would care for my cuts and bruises, tears rolling down his face, apologizing over and over. He used whatever circumstances he was in to justify his actions: his job was taxing and his father was always breathing down his neck, his mom was smothering him and trying to interfere with every decision he made, my family didn’t like him and he felt unwanted in my life. He would say he couldn’t take it anymore. He would say he felt beneath me, that I made him feel like he wasn’t enough, so he was afraid I would leave him, and that was why he was so possessive.”

“Sick bastard.” Victor gritted through his teeth, shaking his head in anger. His grip on his glass was so strong I expected it to break.

“Do you want to hear something even sicker?” I said, looking Victor in the eyes. “I fell for it all. Believed every word. Forgave every punch. The piece of scum was treating me like his punching bag, breaking every little piece of self-esteem I had in me, and I loved him more than my own life. I actually felt guilty for not making things easier for him, for being unable to understand him like he deserved. I thought that, if I could change myself enough, I could change his behavior. Maybe if I could be a little more patient, he would see the light. To this day I can’t understand how I could be that stupid.”

“You thought your love was so strong that it could change it all.” Victor almost whispered, like he knew where I was coming from. “What made you leave?”

“I thought I was pregnant. I wasn’t, it was a false positive. But at the time I was convinced I was going to have a child, so I called my mom. She told me to just pack and run home, and I did. I couldn’t possibly have a child with him, in such an environment. But he came home before I got the chance to leave. Saw my bags on the floor and went insane. Next thing I know, I’m waking up from a coma two weeks later, my mom by my side, her eyes so swollen from crying she could barely open them.”

I felt a tear roll down my face. I took a deep breath, trying not to cry harder. That tear was the only one I would allow myself.

“He told me that I would never have a child, his or anybody else’s. He kept his promise. I had a massive uterine bleeding, and they had to perform a hysterectomy. I’m infertile.”

And there it was. My story, out in the world, for display. I was stupid enough to think I was overcoming it. I wasn't, not even by a long shot. It was still there, very painful and very real.

“Why did you drop the charges?” I heard Victor again.

“When my brother heard of what happened, he went insane. He found Daniel and gave him a massive beating. Of course, his parents went straight to the police, and my brother was facing charges that would put him in prison for at least two years.” I let out a ragged breath. “Josh had gotten engaged, I couldn’t let that happen to him. He was going to be punished for my mistake. I dropped the charges on Daniel on the condition they would drop the charges on Josh. I told the police I didn’t recognize who attacked me, but it wasn’t Daniel.”

“Your mistake? How could that be your mistake?” Victor’s anger was starting to show, his voice a little louder than usual. “The guy tortured you, beat you, almost killed you, and you willingly take the blame?!?”

“It is my mistake!” My throat tightened as I spoke. “I allowed that turd into my life, I welcomed him! And I was stupid enough to love him, and even more stupid to hope I could change him! I was an imbecile to believe I had a chance of happiness with him! I turned my back on my family, I hurt the ones that were actually trying to help me, the ones that actually loved me. I brought them nothing but pain, I almost put my own brother in jail, all because I was deluded with this romanticized dream that was never going to happen!”

And with that, the tears I was trying so hard to keep at bay came in full force. I held on to the table, trying to steady myself as I sobbed hard, looking down, unable to face the world. Strong hands held my shoulders.

“You don’t need to do this.” I felt like begging him to stop. “You don’t need to comfort me, or be here for me, or feel sorry for me. This is my story, this is who I am. And no matter how much it hurts, I have to somehow make peace with that.”

Victor turned my body to face him.

“Just so you know, I don’t pity you.” He said, matter-of-factly. “I admire you. I did before, and now I do even more. You went through so much, been hurt in so many ways, and I can still hear your laughter in the coffee room. You moved to a different country, started working in a very demanding company, faced every setback, and when a guy pointed a gun at your head, you broke his nose. That’s not weakness, Andrea.”

“No, it’s stupidity.” I half-joked, trying to stop all my crying. Victor took my face in his hands, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“It’s strength. You are not a puny flower that someone stomped on, you are not flat on the ground, trying to grow back again. You’re a tree.”

“Victor, stop it.” I said, looking down. Victor lifted my face so I could meet his eyes again.

“You are a tree.” Victor spoke almost in a whisper. “Autumn may take your leaves away and leave you barren, Winter snow may freeze your branches and your roots, but you’ll still be a tree, standing tall through it all. And when Spring comes, you will have leaves and beautiful flowers again, and someone will enjoy your shade, and admire how bravely you stood up to the elements."

He took me in his arms again, steady and strong. He wasn’t mine, but his embrace made me feel like he was, his warmth available and consistent, letting me wash my sorrows away. My solace. Maybe Victor’s picture should be in that restaurant too.

And I wasn’t crying from sadness anymore. I had never heard anything so beautiful. The ogre was a prince, trapped in a spell I didn’t quite know how to break yet, but once in a blue moon I could see the beauty within. The beautiful light inside him, that had me drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

[in-tua-deep]

Pt1) My heart is breaking at the thought of clone Five just wanting a family and not being allowed to be close to anyone. Five learning about people in his private lessons and discovering that families have a mother and a father. Their isn’t anyone who could resemble a father but the Handler is kinda like a mom and she is there for all of the Boy’s big moments. I have this image in my head of The Boy tugging on her skirt saying ‘Mama’ and making grabbing hands cause he

okay I’m fully aware that this is a good and heartwrenching ask from babyboy’s days with the Commission but all I can think of is like. A conversation that happens with the rest of the family? bc like while the Boy might be peripherally aware of the existence of parents I’m not sure if he would know what they were besides “in charge of children” which does mean he might automatically assign the Handler as his ‘parent’ but he probably does the same for like. the scientists in charge of his health, or the adults who train him. 

So in this au the Boy was punished for speaking out of turn (he’s much quieter than your regularly scheduled Five for this reason but he’s slowly learning) so hMMM i’m not sure if he would ever actually bring this conclusion to the Handler’s attention? And if he did he would have absolutely been punished and probably told simply “I am the Handler. I handle you. I’m in charge.”

so he’d probably just kind of be like “okay, I guess she’s not my parent? unclear”

and maybe he asks one of his Commission partners what a parent is and his partner gives him some bullshit about the people who share blood with you and made you? So the Boy is just kind of like “okay so? The Scientists are parents but not the Handler, maybe?” and leaves it at that

except then he goes to the Umbrella Academy and finds himself a brand new family and their mother is a robot - who neither made them nor shares blood? And he’s confused all over again

“How come Grace is your mom?” The Boy asks one day, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, “She’s a robot, right?”

Diego shrugs, “She raised us. She took care of us. She was there for pretty much every birthday. She got us ready for missions. She waited up to check us over after them. She made sure we were fed and clothed. I dunno, she’s just Mom.”

The Boy considers that for a minute and then tilts his head. “Is - is my mom the Handler?”

Because he thought she wasn’t - she didn’t make him after all, but Grace didn’t make his new siblings so? She was there for every birthday. She gave him his missions. She waited for his reports. She marched him down to medical for check ups back when he was too little to go by himself. She made sure he was fed and watered, except for when he was being punished of course. She provided him his mission clothes. That was why Grace was their mom, so did that make the Handler his?

“No.” Came the firm voice of Five, who jumped over at the question. “No, she’s not.”

“But Diego said - ”

“Diego’s an idiot.” Five waves him off, and Diego sputters in the background, “He left out the most important thing that makes a mom. She loves us, and we love her. She comforted us, and held us, and she’s there for us no matter what even now. Unconditional love is what makes a mom, and I don’t think the Handler is even capable of that.”

The Boy considers all of that. Diego is still standing there looking oddly touched by Five’s little speech. 

There’s only one adult who has readily proclaimed their love for the Boy and eagerly held him and tried to make sure he was settled.

“Is - is Klaus my mom?” The Boy asks, a little incredulously. 

There’s a pause, and then Diego is doubled over, laughing so hard he’s wheezing. The Boy is very confused. Even Five looks fond, albeit a little surprised. 

“No bonehead, he’s your sibling. Unfortunately, also about unconditional love.” Five rolls his eyes, “Trust me, if it was conditional I probably would have ditched these idiots eons ago.”

“How do you tell the difference, then?” The Boy asks. In his experience, it was adults who were moms and dads to the children. And then the children who had the same experiences were siblings. He wasn’t so convinced that adults and children could be siblings, but Five seemed awfully sure of himself. 

“Does it matter?” Five asks simply, with a shrug.

The Boy tilted his head in silent question.

“They’re family.” Five answers, “Family is family. Parents and siblings and cousins and grandparents and everything in between. You don’t have to assign everyone a specific role. All you need to know is that you love them, they love you, and even though they might all be assholes they’re your assholes. Family.”

The Boy considers that carefully. Diego is wiping tears away from his earlier laughing fit but is looking at them both with surprisingly soft eyes. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a family before.” The Boy finally confesses, “What if I’m not good at it?”

Five snorts, “Like we’re the picture of a functional family as we are. Look, no matter what you do, no matter how bad you mess up or goof off or irritate one of us, at the end of the day that shit doesn’t matter. You’re family, and family doesn’t just dump you when you do something wrong. Unconditional love.”

“But - ”

“Unconditional.”

“I’m telling everyone you said all that.” Diego declares, a smile that could almost be described as goofy if not for the hint of mischief.

“Not if you want to keep your internal organs where they are.” Five deadpans back, and the Boy is constantly surprised by these threats-that-aren’t-threats? It’s still weird and makes him dart his eyes between the two, but Diego doesn’t seem very concerned for someone threatened with being disemboweled. 

Honestly I think that Five heals a lot through helping the Boy, because sometimes you just need to say stuff out loud and mean it. So while Five might have been overly worried about being a monster, an assassin, someone completely unlovable - if he ever voices those doubts then the Boy will probably be pretty firm in shooting him down with the reminder of unconditional. 

honestly the worst thing for the Boy is that he’s perfectly functional in the Commission. He doesn’t stutter or stumble over his words. He’s never unsure. He knows the rules, and the consequences for breaking them, and the expectations. The reason he’s such a mess is because he’s lost all that structure and stability.

He has no idea what the rules are, or what the consequences for breaking them are, or what expectations the family has of him or even what the hell a family even is. He’s nervous and anxious and afraid of making the wrong move 

so in a lot of ways he feels more broken now that he’s free than he ever did in the commission and it’s really hard to deal with that but like. also he’s not hurt where he is and even though he feels stupid and broken tbh it’s worth it because for the first time in his life he also feels?? safe? for the most part? and loved? 

also like the whole family gonna be down to throw down when it comes to the commission after this tbh

[loyalflutist]

Nightmares (F!Byleth x Dorothea)

Challenge: Bylethea Week 2019 (Twitter) Day 5: Nightmare

A/N: RIP Dorothea. That’s all I’m going to say. 

------

Nightmares had plagued Dorothea for years. It always had been. Since the time of abandonment, the young girl would be clawed by the darkness. Horrifying imagery and sickening faces blew up before her. It had only gotten worse the older she got. The dreams would evolve to that of assassination attempts, rapes, and failure as an opera singer. They eventually morphed to dead soldiers and brutal deaths experienced by her old classmates.

Compared to someone as strong as Edelgard or Caspar, Dorothea was one of the few students who came to the Officers Academy for a purpose other than warfare. And she wanted to keep it that way. Yet fate decided otherwise. She was pulled into a tragic three-way conflict between the Adrestian Empire, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and the Leicester Alliance. Three ideologies, three rulers, three factions, and none willing to find a compromise.

“…”

These hands… Dorothea stared at their callouses. They were meant to gracefully touch and lovingly comfort her significant other. Scribbled with lacerations and scars, her palms and fingers had killed instead. One glance upward foretold the future she would be burdened with.

Just like in her nightmares.

“I’m never going to find someone to fall in love with,” she laughed during a tea session with her neon professor. “I’ve killed so many. They’ll think of me as a killer.”

Byleth watched onward with concern as the songstress simmered down. Since her revival from the coma, the instructor had not only relinquished her title as the powerful Ashen Demon, she regained her grown alumni. Not all of them had safely transcended into adulthood. Many of them possess varying internal and external scars in this five-year war. Byleth sipped on her teacup, her gaze never leaving the young woman.

Dorothea was an unfortunate student caught in the tragedy. Those weary eyes glossed over the barely touched drink despite speaking about the mundane topics. None of the snacks were bothered with too. She couldn’t even swallow those dry crackers and cookies with her favorite tea.

Another sip. Byleth then lowered her cup, a faint smile blooming on her face.

“Dorothea… Have you ever considered that someone might fall in love with you from the academy?”

The alumni lightly scoffed. That was a comedic suggestion. Outside of those who allied themselves or worked under the flag of the Adrestian Empire, they were sworn enemies, never meant to be on the same level from mere allegiances. As for those who are, they were either already taken, were not interested, or had died on the battlefield. Dorothea intertwined her fingers and forced a smile.

“I have, but they died. Or… they were a little too… crazy for my safety.”

“…”

She chuckled. “I know, right? Shocking.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.

Byleth instantly shot up to her feet. The chair’s feet skidding on the stony pavement screeched loud enough to startle Dorothea from her daze. By the time the young lady looked up, she saw her professor standing by her side. Her hands were snatched up by Byleth’s, the warmth enveloped her chilly fingers. Dorothea soon widens her eyes once Byleth proclaimed,

“What would you say if I told you that I’ve fallen for you?”

An audible gasp came from Dorothea. Out of everyone that confessed, she did not expect it to come from the mouth of her teacher. Byleth was a mercenary, a teacher, and a confidant. But never was she ever thought of as a lover. It never crossed through Dorothea’s mind that Byleth would ever hold feelings that transcend beyond mere friendship. It was from that day she also realized just how much her professor meant to her.

Did she accept the proposal?

“I… I need some time.”

Well… only after the war had ended… and only when she had almost lost Byleth.

Injuries tattered their figures as the battlefield roared in flames. From the background, many of their comrades gathered and retreated from the burning environment. Some on wyverns and Pegasus took the sky to douse the premise with water. Edelgard and Hubert rushed to the two females. To their horror, they’ve witnessed the close death of their beloved professor with the magus by her side.

Dorothea profusely wept into the girl’s chest when Byleth barely managed to crawl back to earth.

“I love you,” Dorothea croaked as she tightened her hold. “Please, don’t ever leave me.”

The songstress felt like the whole world would crush her if she were to lose her professor. She’s never felt anything like this before. Death was a concept she was not unfamiliar with anymore, but the thought of losing Byleth… She would be unable to live if Byleth were to die.

Byleth’s eyelids were barely lifted. Soft groans were inaudible as she reached to Dorothea. The instructor slowly patted the back of Dorothea’s head as she croaked, “…I won’t.” It was unfortunate that she was left with permanent handicaps and damages, but she was alive at least.

Fast forward to the present time, it has now been two years since the Immaculate One had been defeated by the hands of Edelgard and Byleth. Unlike Edelgard, Hubert, Caspar, Bernadetta, and Ferdinand, Byleth and Dorothea, alongside Linhardt and Petra, took their leave and went their own ways within the unified Fodlan. The two girlfriends thought it would be best they retire from serving under a ruler. Dorothea refused to commit any more killings. Her time of being a soldier was over the instant the war had concluded. Byleth had a slight limp and a frail heart. She was not back to her full strength and it’s unlikely she ever will be.

“Should anything happen, please, don’t hesitate to find me,” Byleth immediately pulled the old house leader into a strong hug. “I’m always here for you as your teacher.”

“My teacher,” Edelgard laughed once they parted. For once, she genuinely smiled. After all of the tragedies and anguish the noble had to go through, she finally broke into the cheerful disposition she once had as a little girl. “I will take up your offer for the future. But for now, I think you’ve earned your rest.”

Eventually, Dorothea and Byleth didn’t move too far from the castle. Hubert poured his resources to relocating the two females into a wealthy empire’s household fit for their statuses. The interiors were simplistic in contrast to the exterior designs, both women not bothering to purchase more than necessary, save it for some handmade clothes. Finance was never an issue as Ferdinand provided monthly allowances to them.

They’ve lived a lifestyle full of luxury. Dorothea finally found her peace and so has Byleth.

Sort of.

“You have another assignment?”

“Yeah.”

It was early in the morning when a thin mist hung in the air. Byleth stood by the doorway, the Sword of Creator snuggled on her waist. Within the living room was a retired Dorothea who occasionally performed live performances once in a blue moon. She approached the warrior with solemn features. Then, without hesitation, the songstress embraced her wife.

“Come home soon, honey.”

Byleth’s dulled eyes softened. She wrapped her arms around Dorothea and kissed her forehead.

“I will.”

Retirement may have come for Dorothea, but it didn’t for Byleth. Edelgard and her working companions sought to defeat and eliminate Those Who Slither in the Dark. The announcement of their plans to bring them down eventually invited Byleth back into the frontline, much to Dorothea’s dismay. How could Byleth volunteer to fight them? She wasn't as strong as she was before! Whatever strength she had before was hindered by incurable medical conditions.

They argued about the matter. They debated. They cried over it. But in the end, Byleth’s stubborn nature won, and there was nothing Dorothea could do.

“…”

Dorothea laid in bed once nightfall descended. She laid on her side, her hands resting upon the empty spot on the mattress. For the third time this month, Byleth was sent out on a task only she could complete. She wasn’t sure when her wife will return either. Some days, it took less than a few hours. On other days, she would come back after two months. What will it be for this assignment?

“Byleth…”

Dorothea curled into a fetal position and felt hot tears soak the white fabrics. She quietly whimpered, the negative thoughts slowly eroding bits of her hopes. Though she was lulled to sleep due to mental fatigue, she was greeted with a familiar set of dreams.

Nightmares. Those nightmares that had been sitting in the backburner made its return to the opera singer since the day Byleth returned to duty. This time, she watched the scenes unfold of when Byleth would never return home, of when Byleth went insane from PTSD, and of when Byleth proposed divorce to continue her occupation.

Just when will it end?

When will these nightmares be put to rest?

And most importantly… will these nightmares soon become a reality?

[trade-baby-blues]

Feint

Pairing: Bones x Reader

Word Count: 1934

Warnings: minor swearing

A/N: Based on a request by an anon! The title is a pun bc the reader faints but also because reader and Bones have kind of rude attitudes to each other so it’s a little like feinting (and also I’m super tired so maybe it’s only funny to me lol). Hope you enjoy!!

Nervous was the best way to describe how you felt around Leonard McCoy. The strong jaw, piercing gaze, terrifying medical equipment -it was a mental recipe for disaster, sending you into a panic every time you were near him. Unfortunately, your fight or flight response was biased to fighting (too many years with Jim, Bones always said) and you came off rude every time you spoke with him.

Bones, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong. He’d been smitten from the moment you first got wheeled into Medbay. You and Jim had gone on an away mission and decided to race to the bottom of a hill. In a spark of what you called genius, you grabbed an emergency inflatable raft from the transport ship. Needless to say, neither of you realized the hill ended abruptly in a shallow cliff, and you tumbled out of the raft onto the quarry floor below. Luckily for Jim, you broke his fall. The whole ordeal was so stupid it actually endeared you to Bones as you explained it.

The scoldings, on the other hand, were much less endearing. They became more frequent and more intense as Bones fell harder for you. While he was glad to see you so often, he hated seeing you injured in whatever idiotic shenanigan you and Jim had gotten yourselves into this time. It was a waste of his time and yours.

“Can you believe it,” you shouted to Jim, who was in the shower, while you hung upside down from the side of his bed. “He said I was ‘wasting his time.’”

The water shut off. “Yelling is just how Bones shows he cares,” Jim called from the bathroom.

You scoffed. “Then I’m surprised he hasn’t proposed by now. He yells at me for everything. God, did I tell you that he yelled at me for taking a nap in the conference room chair yesterday? Said it was ‘ruining my posture’ and he wouldn’t help me when I started having back problems.”

Jim poked his head out from the bathroom, wet hair sticking up at odd angles. “You took a nap in the conference room yesterday? Weren’t you on shift?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point Jim. The point is Bones has a stick up his ass the size of Georgia and -.”

“And I think that’s enough,” Jim said ducking back into the bathroom before emerging with a towel draped around his waist. “I love a good shit-talk, but Bones is my friend, too. I don’t wanna get in the middle of whatever this is. It’s weird.”

“So is seeing you walking around in a towel, but that hasn’t stopped you.”

Jim turned around on his way to his closet. “Because it’s my room. Trust me, I would prefer to be naked.”

“Aw, thanks for saving me the nightmares.”  

“Get out,” Jim laughed. You acquiesced, bouncing up from the bed so fast you felt a little dizzy. You brushed it off and made your way back to work.

Bones slammed his breakfast tray down on the table. Stabbed his food. Chomped as if his teeth were grinding down rocks instead of pancakes. Jim watched, bagel halfway in his mouth, before dropping it back to his plate with a sigh. “What’s got your eyebrow twitching today, Bones?”

“Nothing.” He stabbed his food again. Stab. Chomp. Stab. Chomp.

“You sure about-”

“I just don't understand what I did wrong,” Bones cut in. “I've gone out of my way to ensure Y/N gets the best treatment and knows how to take care of herself after whatever stupid shenanigans the two of you have gotten into and she acts like I’m some dictator trying to control her life when all I’m doing is trying to show her I care, you know?” Jim nodded along, trying to respond but being cut off again before he could say anything. “I’ll be damned. That’s the problem, isn’t it? I care about her so much I’ve been smothering her. I’ve got to find her.” Bones shoveled the last few mouthfuls of food into his mouth before practically sprinting out of the mess hall.

Jim stared at the empty space in front of him and sighed. “Thanks for the talk, Jim,” he muttered to himself. “You’re a great listener and a great captain. You’re the best, Jim.”

You threw your wrench to the ground, sending it clattering across the engine room floor. Sweat felt like a permanent accessory on your skin, and you weren’t sure which was louder: the roaring of machines or the roaring of your own heartbeat. When had you gotten so out of shape?

“Maybe it really is time for a physical,” you told yourself as you clambered back down to collect your tools for the day. The floor seemed to shift as you bent forward, barely managing to catch yourself before your face hit the metal floor beneath you. “Hm. Weird and not at all terrifying,” you whispered, keeping your hands and knees firmly planted as you waited for the dizziness to fade. “Probably dehydrated, which would also explain why I’m talking to a wrench.” You pressed your forehead against the floor, hoping the coolness of the metal would help abate the heat and lightheadedness plaguing your body.

The noise around you grew quieter as you focused on your breathing, on the solid ground beneath you, on anything but the overwhelming pounding in your chest. You came to realize your body wasn’t hot - your chest was. It felt like your heart was ready to burst out of it, pumping as if you’d run a marathon rather than climbed a ladder. You fought past the ever encroaching whiteness at the edge of your vision to fish through your toolkit for your Comm, hoping to reach Scotty or Jim or anyone and tell them where you were, but you could feel your arms get heavier with each move you made. Your fingers wrapped around the Comm like a life raft as you slipped past the edge of consciousness.

Bones tried to pretend like it didn’t upset him that you were avoiding his calls, but he’d always been one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, and right now his sleeves were pushed to his elbows, crushed and wrinkled, as he buried himself in paperwork to forget about the messages he’d sent you hours ago. Of course, he’d wanted to confess his feelings in person, but, when he couldn’t find you, Bones had to settle for a Comm call. When you didn’t respond, he was forced to settle for a bottle of whiskey and the realization that maybe you simply hated him after all. It was all the same. He’d gotten used to being alone.

That didn’t stop him from jumping from his seat the second his Communicator started ringing. He tried to remind himself that he was an adult, but the mix of alcohol and nerves made Bones damn near drop the Comm half a dozen times before he finally answered.

“Hello.” Bones made a note to not sound so breathless. There was no answer. “Anyone there?” There was a buzzing of machinery in the background but no voice, no sounds of movement. Bones pondered his next move before hanging up and dialing your Comm. It rang and rang but you didn’t pick up. Bones shifted gears and called Jim, asking him to call you before Jim could get a word in. Then, he paced impatiently around his office waiting for Jim to call him back.

“Did she pick up,” Bones started as soon as he answered the call.

“You know,” Jim said, “I am the captain of this ship. I have a job to do. Responsibilities. Plus, I’m technically your boss, so you shouldn’t be so rude to me.”

“Damn it, Jim, I think something might be seriously wrong with Y/N. Did she answer or not?”

“No, she -”

“Meet me down in Engineering.” Bones ended the call as quickly as it started, leaving Jim on the other end, staring into deep space wondering if his being captian meant anything to anyone besides himself.

Everything was bright. Everything was loud. The cotton sheets scratched at your skin, but you were unable to move. Your limbs were lead. Your eyelids like cathedral doors you had to pry open. You tried to focus on the face hovering above you.

“Is that you God? Odin? That cute delivery guy who brought us pizza on our last shore leave?” Your voice came out muddled, but Jim’s laughter hit your ears crystal clear.

“Yeah, I’d say she’s gonna be just fine, Bones.” Jim clapped him on the shoulder.

Bones scoffed. “Just fine? She’s got a heart condition, Jim. There’s nothing fine about that.”

“Someone’s in a bad mood,” you mumbled as you pushed yourself up on the bed. “You’d think you’re the one who got diagnosed with a heart condition.” “As often as the two of you wind up in here, I’m surprised I don’t already have one. God, do you have any idea how dangerous it is to work under the conditions down in Engineering with an arrhythmia?”

You furrowed your brow. “Arrhythmia?”

“An irregular heartbeat.”

“That explains so much…” you whispered in response. Silence fell as Bones glared at you.

“How long have you been having symptoms?”

You avoided his gaze, staring at the hem of the sheet you were lying under. “I don’t know. Not super long. Maybe a couple weeks.”

“A couple weeks,” Bones yelled louder than he intended. He reigned himself in again. “You didn’t think it was something you should mention? I mean, the dizziness, the heart palpitations - they’re all pretty noticeable symptoms.”

“I’m not a doctor,” you said defensively. “I didn’t know what it was! I thought it was just because I have a stupid crush on you and I was nervous or something.” You clapped your hand over your mouth, eyes wide, heart racing again.

“This ain’t a romance novel, sugar,” Bones laughed, which made your cheeks redder than they already were. “Your heart’s not supposed to flutter.”

“Yeah, well I realize it’s not a romance novel or I wouldn’t be lying in a paper gown covered in dust and engine grease in front of a smoking hot doctor.” You crossed your arms over your chest, sinking back into the pillow and wishing, more than anything, that you could sink through the bed and drift off through space to a planet a few systems away from here.

“I like a girl who’s not afraid to get dirty,” Bones teased.

“Aaaaand that’s my cue to leave,” Jim interrupted. “You crazy kids have fun.”

You watched Jim go, hoping he could feel your eyes on his back begging him to stay or at the very least smother you with your own pillow. Either would do. Sadly, he kept walking, leaving you with Bones and a heavy silence as you were both reduced to grade schoolers tugging nervously at your shirt sleeves.

“So,” you started. “Are you gonna...take care of my heart?” You cringed at how cheesy that sounded. “No, that’s. I’m sorry. Can you fix it?”

Bones couldn’t help but laugh. He’d never seen you nervous before. It was a cute look on you. “I’ll take good care of you, doll.” Bones pressed his hand over yours and everything clicked into place. The tornado of thoughts whirring around your brain finally calmed as you focused on the pressure, the warmth of Bones’ hand over yours. It was a feeling you wanted to hold onto forever.

Tags: 

@outside-the-government @martinawalker @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @thefanficfaerie  @feelmyroarrrr @brooke-taylor0323 @slither-in-a-half @cuddlememerrick @8bit-arc-reactor @jimtkirkisabitch @sjlovestory @kristaparadowski

[funtryandthepaladudes]

Previously, I made an observation that there’s a possibility that the Voltron Movie that’s currently in development hell would be the true ending to this version of the Voltron property. And then what was supposed to be a summary of the kind of movie I would like this to be turned into this monstrosity. Despite it being essentially just my rambling thoughts without any proper structure, people seemed to like it, and many even said they would be willing to watch this if it were made into a movie. Sure, there’s only a bit over a Hundred notes, but that’s almost enough to fill a small Cinema room, and isn’t that all you really need? But seriously, thank you all for being sweet. I really expected more criticism, but everybody who has reacted to this had lovely things to say. Here’s to you all! Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you @sillygurl1021. Let’s do this!

Edit: Here’s a link to the Next part.

Allura is asleep in the medical bay of the Space Craft (Battle Ship?) looking every bit the fairytale princess that she is. ‘She hasn’t aged a day.’ you hear Lance say. We pan out, and the former Paladins are all gathered in Hunk’s restaurant again, but the mood is less festive than it was earlier. They are watching a livecast from some kind of telecommunication device. ‘I know.’ Keith responds on his end. ‘I’m right here. I’ve touched her heard her voice, and I can still scarcely believe it.’

‘I’m not sure I do, I mean, people don’t just come back from the dead. Right?’ Hunk comments, trying to process everything.

‘To be fair, she didn’t die so much as merge with all of reality. And face it, we don’t have a clue how all that mystical stuff works. Not for the lack of trying.’ Pidge mutters the last sentence. ‘And come on, Hunk. This entire Galra Galaxy Conquest started because two people refused to die.’

‘Oh right. I keep forgetting that.’

‘Be that as it may, I must confess I have my doubts as well. I may not have been as well acquainted with her as you all, but if I were some kind of malevolent entity, disguising myself in a form you all trusted.’ Acxa, who is also there, comments. 

‘If she was the entity, why would Voltron be protecting her? Why would I have had these dreams that lead me here?’ 

‘Wait, dreams? You’ve been dreaming about Allura? Since when?’ Lance speaks up again. (In the background, you can see Pidge visibly deflate.) 

‘Since a little after last Allura Day. It’s not what you think!’ 

 ‘What? Dude! Nobody, cares about your weird subconscious! We’re your friends, you should be able to tell us if you’re having cryptic dreams about our mutual friend.’

‘I told Shiro about them. I - I just didn’t know if they were really anything.’

‘Well, that tracks.’ Lance states, satisfied with Keith’s response. 

‘Either way, the fact that she was protected by a fully formed Voltron, sans Paladins, makes me optimistic. Just out of curiosity, are they still in formation?’ 

‘Not as far as I know.’ Keith answers, as he moves a way from the Medical Bay, Acxa right behind him. ‘The disengaged once I pulled her into my cruiser. Our Craft is not the largest, so we didn’t have any space in our Cargo Hold. They’ve just been flying alongside us since.’ 

‘Have you told Coran and Romelle yet?’ Shiro asks.

‘I, didn’t know if I should say anything yet. When she passed, they didn’t get to say goodbye, and I just wanted to make sure.’ He admits meekly. 

‘Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but if both the return of Voltron and Allura is any indication, then we have got to get on top of this. Let’s rendezvous at New Altea, ASAP. And tell them about this, man. They have a right to know. Plus, Coran knows her better than anyone. If anybody should be able to tell Allura from a cosmic demon, it should be him.’ Hunk adds. 

‘Sounds like a solid plan. I’ll see you then.’ And he hangs up. The Paladins discuss who is willing to go on this impromptu road trip. Shiro declines, but everybody can tell that he wants to go, but they don’t say anything because they don’t want to make things more awkward. Pidge talks about having to work on lesson plans with Chip, and sighs about the fact that she’s not going to shake her reputation as an absentee professor this year either. During all this, she makes it a point not to even look in Lance’s direction, and this visibly frustrates him. Hunk is frustrated that he has to put up with all this, and tries to cut the tension by dismissing, because it has been an eventful day, and he would like to go home to his wife. (Sorry, the wedding happened off-screen. Maybe in another draft. And yeah, I’m scrapping the Romelle vs Vrepits Sal rivalry subplot, because it was kinda dumb.) Everybody goes their separate ways.

We are back in space. Keith is just finishing off a conversation with Coran and Romelle. It’s very emotional, and they promise to be ready for everybody’s arrival. Once the conversation is done, Keith and Acxa start heading somewhere (It doesn’t really matter because they never get there. You’ll see why.). At first they’re quiet. Then, surprisingly, Acxa speaks first.

‘What happens now?’

‘We’re going to New Altea, I thought that was obvious.’

‘I meant with you. If this is Princess Allura, are you going to tell her.’

‘Tell her what?’

‘What you told me two Allura Days ago.’

Keith is visibly out of sorts. I just realized I use the word ‘visibly’ a lot. He rallies, and tries to play his reaction off. ‘That’s not important right now.’ 

‘So you’ll tell her once this ordeal is over?’

‘Acxa.’

‘What if she doesn’t stay?’

‘Then that’s all the more reason not to bring it up.’

‘Keith, you know keeping that to yourself is not doing you any good. You didn’t even tell Shiro, and I’m aware that you probably wouldn’t have told me either if circumstances weren’t what they were.’

‘Why are you bringing this up now? These past two Deca-Pheobs you didn’t so much as allude to that conversation, so why is this a topic now.’

‘I was waiting for you to speak on your own terms. But the situation is different now that she is here. I just don’t want you to make your regrets any deeper than they already are. This is me talking as a friend. Don’t keep this to yourself too long. You’re only going to hurt yourself.’

‘I just don’t want to...’

‘Uh, Boss?’ Ezor interjects from a communicator.

Keith, eager to get out of the current conversation, immediately turns his attention to her. ‘What do you need?’

‘Well, you told us to let you know if there are any changes in the Princess’ condition.’

‘Did she wake up.’ 

‘Actually, it’s more like she’s...missing.’

‘What do you mean, she’s missing?’

‘I mean her bed is empty and we can’t find her anywhere on board. Even your teleporting doggy can’t find her.’ 

‘Keep looking. We don’t know what condition she’s in, so we need to find her fast. Spread the word out, this is our number 1 priority. Have everybody keep their com-links open, I want to hear about it as soon as she’s found. Over and out.’ He’s about to rush off himself, when Acxa grabs his shoulder.

‘Keith!’

‘Acxa, I’m pretty sure we can agree that now is not the time to have this conv...’

‘Look outside the window.’

Confused he obeys her and almost has a heart attack. Allura is floating in deep space along with the Lions, and doesn’t seem to be wearing a spacesuit. 

‘Quiznack! How did she get out there?’ he turns the com-link again. ‘I’ve found her. I need whoever’s closest to the hanger to prepare my spacesuit and jet-pack. I’ll be there in a few ticks. Over.’ 

We focus on Allura, who despite not having any protective gear, seems to be doing fine. In fact, she looks blissful; you’d think she was just swimming in a peaceful pond and not the cold vacuum of space. A panicked Keith collides with her, upsetting the calm mood, but she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seems like soundless giggles have escaped her. When she looks at Keith, she sees that he seems to be talking at a frantic speed, but she can’t hear him. She then notices that he has an extra helmet in his hand, and casually slips it on. She is barraged with Keith’s concerned yammering.

‘...how was I going to face everybody, if I had lost you right after getting you back. They wouldn’t be able to handle it. I wouldn’t...’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you. It slipped by mind that lifeforms typically need equipment to breath out here.’

‘...You...what?...’

‘It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it? I’ve experienced so many things lately, but it’s quite different from this perspective.’ 

‘...You are Allura, right?’

‘I, I believe I am.’

‘Do you know who I am?’

‘I know you’re important. And I think we did something like this once before.’ 

Keith smiles a bit as he thinks back to that memory, but then frowns. ‘You can’t remember?’

‘It’s hard to explain. I have so many things in my mind, they feel less like thoughts and memories and more like a strange and beautiful dream someone shared with me. I’m not sure of anything, but I know once I find the Catalyst everything will make sense.’ 

‘What’s the Catalyst?’

‘I’m not sure of that either.’

‘...Would it help if I told you what I remember?’

‘Perhaps, it couldn’t hurt to give it a try. The sooner I sort out my memory the better. I don’t know why, but something inside of me tells me it is immensely important now.’ 

‘I’ll do whatever I can.’

‘Thank you,...’

‘Keith.’

‘Keith. It suits you.’ She readjusts her grip on him, winding up closer. ‘Do you mind if we stay here a bit longer? I’ll keep the breathing device on if it will but you at ease.’ 

‘Sure, but are you sure you want me to stay? If I’m disrupting your, uhm, space appreciation, then I can wait for you inside.’

‘No, it’s fine. I don’t know for certain if it was the same for the Allura you remember, but I enjoy your company. It’s...soothing.’ Keith looks surprised at this comment, but that soon melts into a very soft look. 

Well, that was considerably shorter than the last one, I think. Though still very long nevertheless. Hope you all enjoyed this. I’m going to keep updating this regardless, but if you shower this post with notes--likes, comments, or reblogs. I’m not picky.--that will make me want to update sooner. And if you want this to be turned into a movie, share this with your local Dreamworks Execs! This is joke, please don’t actually do this! It will only make everybody involved miserable. I’ll see you when I see you. Funtry.

[bakugou-tm]

Hm what about “I thought I lost you” Kisses?

Ahhh angst is my worst enemy, because I absolutely suck at writing it, but I will try my best to make it good!

“The Battle of Musutafu is finally over people of Japan.”

“The long and enduring war of heroes vs villains seems to have come to and end.”

“This battle may prove to be the most bloody battle in Japanese history.”

“Over two hundred pro-heroes remain on the scene, almost half of them injured or on their way to the hospital.”

“According to the latest thirteen heroes have been confirmed dead, about twenty others in critical condition.”

Hundreds of voices could be heard in the wrecked city of Musutafu; heroes, paramedics, news anchors, law enforcement, captured villains, and injured civilians swarming the chaotic scene. But even with all of these massive distractions, Bakugou had only one repeating voice in mind.

“I don’t think (s/o) made it.”

flashback

“How the hell do you not know if she’s okay?!” Bakugou screamed to his red headed friend while the two of them were forced to be checked by the medics.

Just seconds ago the two had been fighting for their lives, but once the grand leader of The League of Villains had been killed, all seemed to fade to an end.

Kirishima grimaced, his shark like teeth gritting in anger and sadness, “The last I saw her she was trying to defend Ochako because she had been knocked unconscious, Momo was trying to help Ochako quickly but then a building came crashing down a..and…”

“AND WHAT?!”

“I..I don’t know dude! I had to save Mina from being stabbed!” Kirishima confessed, his guilty eyes meeting the raging crimson ones, “She might of made it but with the building… I don’t think (s/o) made it.”

end of flashback

The ash blond was well aware the medics would be furious that he tore away from them once he heard the news, but he didn’t care. All he had were a few scrapes and bruises, that was nothing compared to the possibility of you being dead.

Letting out a growl the pro-hero shoved people out of his way, ignoring the outraged huffs, confused yells, and questioning shouts; all he cared about was you.

A small part of him wanted to believe you were okay. There was no way you died right? Those adorable (e/c) eyes wouldn’t just die. That adorable laugh of yours every time he held you close couldn’t be gotten. There was just no way.

As Bakugou ran he hadn’t even noticed the warm tears falling from his cheeks, at this point he didn’t feel anything but the intense worrying through his body. His heavily beating heart felt like it was going to explode in his neck, his chest burned from the rapid breathing he was experiencing, even his body shook in an uncontrollable fear of the burdened truth.

You can’t be dead. You can’t be dead! There’s just no way… were you dead?

“Katsuki!” 

The ash blond’s entire body froze except for his head, his neck whipping around to the sound of the familiar voice to see your (h/c) locks pointing out of the crowd.

Your hero uniform was torn, barely hanging on by a thread. Your normally smooth (s/c) skin was scared and bruised all over. Your angelic face that he loved so much had blood dripping all over it. But most importantly, you were alive.

Your adorable eyes were open, your small chest was raising up and down signaling the only thing that mattered to him, you were alive.

“(S-S/O!)” Bakugou screamed while making a mad dash towards you, he shoved aside any object or person in the way of his path to you. Your form was mocking his actions as well, while you were more polite in your moving of people out of your way, you still ran to him as fast as you could until you were both smashed against each other.

Even with the breath that was knocked out of both of you from the shear force of colliding with each other you still both felt as if you could breath again, having each other in your arms safe, breathing, living.

Bakugou wasted no time in forcing his lips on yours, his scraped up hands gripping onto the back of your uniform for dear life as he kissed you with every ounce of passion he had in his body. Meanwhile your own fingers traveled up his tight shirt to grip onto the hemmed X around his neck to pull him closer.

The warm feeling of the two of you pushed against each other was something neither of you would ever forget, it wasn’t until more sirens were heard in the background when the two of you split away with heavy breaths.

Your bloody fingers latched onto his neck desperately while you looked up to him with warm tears flowing from your eyes, causing the ash blond to quickly bring his ash covered fingers to your cheeks, his thumb wiping at the sudden flows of tears leaving your eyes.

“I..I thought I fucking lost you (s/o).” Bakugou said breathlessly, his warm palms digging into the soft flesh of your cheeks while you shook in his embrace, your (e/c) orbs filled with hundreds of different emotions as you looked up to your beloved.

“I..I was so scared Katsuki,” You whispered shakily while you hiccuped in his hands, a wave of guilt, anger, and joy washing over the body as he gripped onto you tightly, “The building just came crashing down a..and I almost didn’t dodge it with Ochako and Momo in time… I thought I would never see you again!”

The ash blond interrupted your heart tugging words by softly placing his lips on your own, the taste of the crimson blood from your lips and the salty tears filling his mouth while he softly ran his free hand through your tangled locks.

“I’m here (s/o), I’m here.” Bakugou whispered in your ear soothing while you sobbed in his chest, “I would never let anything happen to you, I swear it.”

For a moment it was somewhat peaceful, your desperate cries quieting down and both of your heavy breathing now slowed into one synced breath.

After all of this turmoil and close heartbreak Bakugou learned one thing that he would never forget or falter from…

For as long as he is alive, he will never ever let you go.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Seventeen: Interlude

A/N  You ever make a list?  A way to compile all the missed opportunities, the transgressions, the warning signs telling you that you’re on the wrong path?  Of course you have.  Part 15 in the series, but actually not about a sexual partner.  I just needed to get all this early season groundwork down before forging on.  Part 1 and links to other parts are here. Rated NC-17. 

He stayed at Elizabeth’s for three days, patching his shaky foundation with comfort food, halting revelations about his state of mind, and restful oblivion in the double bed of her spare bedroom.  He dreamed he was adrift on floating wreckage, trying to navigate to some ever-changing point without a map, with only the stars for company.  

It turned out there was no need to worry about what Elizabeth’s husband thought of him - they’d divorced ten years before.  Still, they didn’t rekindle their affair, and for that he was thankful.  This was how he explained it to her:

“People want to borrow things from me: my mind or my heart or my body, and they always hand them back to me more damaged than before.  They use me, and I feel like I’ve failed them.  How fucked up is that?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking away to hide a stricken expression.

“Wha? No.  I wasn’t talking about us, Elizabeth.  You gave me so much in return.  I was a lost kid, and you set me on my feet and reminded me that an ugly world had room for beauty in it as well.”

“That’s a pretty generous read of my motivations, Mulder.  I came onto you like a mare in heat.”

He smirked, but didn’t deny it.

“I think you need to talk with a professional.  And no, chatting with me over waffles doesn’t count,” she argued before he could interject.  “You’ve got years of buried trauma to excavate.  And since you’re a brilliant behaviouralist yourself, you know just where to hide the bodies.”

He swallowed a ball of fear that rose up in his throat and whispered, “What if I don’t like what I find?  Maybe sticking my head in the sand and coping is the best I can hope for.”

“I don’t think you really believe that, or you wouldn’t have come looking for me.  I don’t deny avoidance is the easier approach, but since when have you done anything the easy way?”

He grinned in acknowledgement.  If Scully came back, he bargained with himself, he’d find himself a therapist who wasn’t a call girl and give the psycho-analysis thing a try.  It couldn’t be any worse than fucking a suicidal vampire in the vain hope that he could save her and by extension every woman he’d ever failed.

***

He might have bargained with himself in bad faith, however.  Missing for over three months, it didn’t take an actuarial table to figure out that Scully wasn’t likely to be found.  But he didn’t give up on her.  His life’s work was one abandoned cause after another.  It was no time to be making exceptions.

So when Scully emerged from her coma in Northeast Georgetown Medical Center, to say that he felt a lot of conflicting emotions was an understatement.  He was thrilled she was alive; incredulous his pleas were answered; guilty for his role in defying her family’s wishes; humbled by her physical and mental fortitude; and utterly terror-stricken that he now had to follow through on his silent promise.  

The one pre-condition he set for his pursuit of mental wellness was that it had to take place in a world that contained Dana Scully.

***

Dr. Ian Turner was a good friend of Elizabeth’s who practiced out of his home in Chevy Chase.  The Gunmen ran him through every background check they could conceive of, and Elizabeth called persistently to find out if he’d made his first appointment.

“Trust me, Mulder.  Ian is exactly what you need.  He’s unflappable, quick-witted, and he’ll extract ugly truths from you like an iron gimlet.”

“That doesn’t sound like very much fun at all,” he quipped nervously.

“It’s what you need.  Make the call.”

And he did.  Two days after being released from quarantine after Mount Avalon, he parked in front of a mid-century home with well-tended gardens and tried to calm his racing heart.  A slight man in his early fifties with wire-frame glasses answered the door and extended his hand.

“You must be Fox.  I’m so glad to finally meet you.  Please come in.”

***

It wasn’t what he’d imagined.  They didn’t progress methodically through his childhood, assigning a Freudian paradigm to each of his manifold issues and perhaps indicting a family member or two along the way.  He didn’t leave each session feeling lighter, as though he’d left behind some heavy part of his past.  In fact, on the days he met with Ian, he dragged his feet and felt like he’d been beaten mentally and emotionally with pipe iron.  

He grew angrier, and even more isolated as he revisited his long line of broken or dysfunctional relationships.  He lashed out at those around him who cared enough to try to save him from his recklessness, including Scully.  But he also started to see this behaviour for what it was: years of sand bagging against future pain.  Life was easier when no-one was on his side, because then there was no-one else for him to lose.

Scully was on his side, though.  She was staunchly, steadfastly, infuriatingly on his side, even when he wasn’t.  Especially when he wasn’t.  She was his dauntless and enduring counterpart, reflecting back radiance and reason from her side of the mirror.  

Just last week, he’d pulled a gun on her and nearly shot the one person to ever stay true in his shitshow life, and she still held his hand and led him from Modell’s hospital room afterwards.  He sat in Ian’s living room and spat out the five scariest words of their eighteen month patient-therapist relationship:

“I...uh...I think I love her.”

He snuck a look at Ian’s face, hoping his pronouncement would be seen as evidence of his progress.  He was well enough to put a name to that tightrope terror that bided in his soul, every time he imagined Scully gone.

Ian didn’t look happy.

“What?  Ian, what?  I would have thought... I mean, loving somebody is a good thing, right?”

“Of course.  But... and this is where I lay those hard truths on you like you pay me to... I don’t really think you love her.”

His lips flattened into an angry snarl.  How dare he?  How dare Ian question what he knew he felt?

“Stop scowling and hear me out.  Scully is your FBI partner, and from everything you’ve told me about her, she’s also a loyal and honest friend the likes of which you life has been sadly lacking.   And she’s an attractive woman, I’m guessing?”  Here Ian stopped until he acknowledged his statement with a nod.  “And you’ve no doubt flirted with her and laid on that patented charm, because that’s what you do to deflect suspicion away from the fact that sexual attraction terrifies you.  And now you confess to me, in practically the same breath, that your greatest fear is losing her and that you love her.  Come on, Fox.  Put that Oxford doctorate to good use and tell me what I’m seeing.”

He blew air through his pursed lips, jaw muscles clenching in upset.

“That she’s a surrogate,” he finally voiced, defeated.

“Very good, Fox.  A surrogate for whom, do you think?”

“For my professional colleagues, whom I’ve alienated or ignored.  For unshakable parental affection, which I never felt.   For my sister, whom I couldn’t save.”  Every sentence rang like a nail in the coffin of his fragile hopes for a normal future with someone.  Someone like Scully.

“Don’t despair, Fox.   I’m not saying that you aren’t capable of romantic love.  And maybe that love will be for Scully, who’s to say?  But your last two sexual relationships were with a hooker and a woman who lit herself on fire mere hours after sleeping with you - I don’t think you’re quite ready for happily ever after yet.”

He sighed.  Elizabeth was right.  Ian didn’t pull his punches.

“A word of advice, Fox?  As someone who has hundreds of hours invested in your mental well-being: until you’re absolutely certain that your feelings for Scully are real, for the love of god please don’t fuck her.”

Go to Seventeen: Marita.

[smokescreen24]

21 Asks for D&D Characters (and OC’s)

My Character - Liander Tristram (Half-Elf Rouge) 

1. What influenced or inspired the creation of this character? I read the name Liander somewhere, and I fell in love with the name. I’ve always wanted to use that name, but never really had a reason to until I started playing D&D. 2. What is your character’s relationship with their family? Family is a word which here refers to biological relatives, close companions, and/or the individual(s) who raised them. Liander’s family is hard to pin down, largely because she’s got one of those Tragic(TM) backstories, but her relationship with her surviving family is good. As for her travelling companions, they’re starting to fall into a groove.  3. Who is the closest person to them? Her cousin, Killian. She doesn’t see him much anymore since she started wandering the country.  4. What were the conditions surrounding their formative years? Not great, which is to be expected when faced with such a background. But she likes to think she’s turned out okay.  5. What creature would they like to have as a pet? She has a cat and she loves him to bits, but I’m concerned because my DM has plans for him and he won’t tell me what they are.  6. Do they have any bad habits? She’s a shameless eavesdropper, and she’s always up for a fight or some light theft. Which works well with her current party, since it consists of a murder hobo, and a morally gray fighter. Oh, and a scholar, but we don’t really count him.  7. Is there anyone they’d die for? Kill for? She’s killed for most everyone in her party at one time or another, not that she’ll admit it to them. She’s fond of them, and isn’t in a hurry to watch them die.  8. Who was their first love? She hasn’t had one yet - she’s been too busy exploring the world.  9. How would this character react to someone confessing their love for them? She’d honestly be shocked. She’s not looking to attract anyone, so if someone were to admit something like that, she honestly wouldn’t know what to do.  10. How old is this character? She’s not that old - late twenties.  11. Are they normally peaceful or aggressive? She’s fairly laid back - she likes to watch and listen. She won’t get aggressive unless you piss her off.  12. How does this character handle stress? Not well. She doesn’t like being stressed out, so she goes and works it off. Usually by training.  13. Does your character consider themselves lucky? Not particularly. Hard to consider yourself lucky when most your family is dead.  14. What is their favorite holiday? She doesn’t really celebrate holidays. Hell, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know what holidays there are. 15. What is the best gift they could receive? Treats for her cat. Apparently he’s likable, and lots of people want to pet him.  16. If they could instantly kill one person in the world without consequence, who would it be? The man who killed her parents and the hunting party they were part of. The man is still out there, and she’ll find him. 17. If they were in possession of a trio of wishes, what would their three wishes be? Liander’s turning out to be the medic of the group, so 1) unlimited medical supplies, 2) unlimited gold because shit’s expensive, and 3) probably a magical item of some kind.  18. What is their favorite spell or method of attack? She’s an archer, so she starts with her bow and arrow, but usually winds up being up close and personal with the guy she’s trying to kill.  19. What are their guilty pleasures? She has a sweet tooth. Zulth discovered this and stole a bunch of doughnuts from a pastry vendor. They’ve been splitting them ever since.  20. What is something this character is or could be addicted to? She has a very minor drinking habit. It’s nowhere near as bad as Zulth or Chancel’s, for which she’s very proud.  21. Have you actually played this character yet? Yes! I’m actually waiting on the campaign to start again - our DM needed a break. 

[impalaanddemons]

Ad Astra - Chapter 2

A/N: Keva has a very bad day Story: Keva Scofield is a young member of the relatively fresh Department of Temporal Investigations and prides herself in being a temporal agent. She is sent with Junior Agent Lorilee, temporal agent in training, to investigate the destruction of the freighter Mercury and the vanishing of its Captain and First Officer. It is there at a time rift she makes first contact with an entity that calls itself Q. around 3500 words This Chapter is on Ao3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Unless acted upon by another Force

Uneasiness became fright at the look of his wicked smile. Fright became fear at the whisper of his voice. Fear became terror at the inevitable.

Gravity gripped down at her body. A force that clenched down on her flesh, crushing and squeezing until she howled with pain - tears streamed down her contorted face, teeth bared in pain and hate and utter terror. Something poured liquid lead into her mouth. The rift burned as it swallowed her whole. It bit down on her, chew, ground her body with forces that were never meant for a human to be endured in just a suit. The gravity well of the temporal rift crushed her bones. The rift and darkness swallowed her, eradicating what it meant to feel warmth and light and human touch. She screamed and whimpered and begged, defenselessly tossed around by an uncaring universe. And then, mercifully, thankfully, graciously - she lost her consciousness, surrounded by nothing at all.

Her temporal tricorder blinked red.

Stardate: Unknown

Gravity was a curious thing. It was the great actor of the universe. That what was and moved and caught and let go. In sufficiently empty space anything could be enough mass to attract another object. Be it an asteroid on it’s lonely journey through the universe, or a lost human in it’s space suit. Kevas Life support systems were glowing orange with the soft hum of an early oxygen alert. Were the inhabitant of the suit awake, she would have been able to read instructions on getting back to the nearest shuttle immediately to replenish her oxygen reserves. But Keva Scofield was unconscious, mind and body exhausted and twisted from a trip no human should have survived. Yet, here she was - one object among million floating in endless space. Lost and forgotten to humanity. Only attracted by the next source of mass, like any other object. Driftwood in an ocean designed to kill her. Sooner or later.

She would have died - forgotten and frozen for future explorers to find her, nothing more then a footnote in the books of history - if she hadn’t been dropped in this particular part of space, at this particular moment. She would’ve died if the rift had transported her there two weeks earlier - or two weeks later. She would’ve died in any other part of the delta quadrant.

But here at this time and place she showed up as a blip on the sensors of an Intrepid Class starship. The ship was nearly as lost as she was, thrown into this part of the galaxy by chance and bad luck. Ensign Harry Kim at first thought the blip was just a fidget of his mind, an imagination brought upon by lack of sleep or something he ate at Neelix’ canteen. „Captain, short range scanners have registered an organic object.“ „Really?“ Janeways voice perked curiously at the notion. „Ensign, run a deep scan on the object.“ Turning her head to her number one she smiled an agitated smile. „A mystery. How Lovely.“ „Second scan …“ Kim did not finish his sentence. Instead he stopped himself, did a double take at the results and only then spoke again: „Permission to run a third scan for confirmation, Captain.“ „Ensign Kim, please report and rerun second scan for confirmation.“ she commanded raising her eyebrows ever so slightly. „It’s… I’m sorry Captain, but sensors confirm the presence of a humanoid floating in space approximately one hundred clicks ahead of us.“ A murmur rose on the bridge, ebbed from Ensign Kim away much like the tide and came to a sudden end when the Voyagers Captain rose her voice again. „Ensign send coordinates to the transporter room.“, she touched a button on her commanding chair. „Transport room, are the coordinates I just send you within range?“ A moment of silent followed. Swift fingers scurried over control panels and recalculated energy output, distance, guessed the approximate weight of the object before answering.

„We can beam aboard, Captain.“ - that was B’elanna Torres voice. Sharp and all business. „Prepare for transport in one minute.“, Captain Janeway touched another button on the display of her chair. „Bridge to Sickbay, prepare for emergency transport of unknown humanoid and medical assistance.“ „Aye, Captain“ - it was Kes, gentle and soft immediately mediating the Captains message to the Doctor. Expectant eyes lay on Janeways back. She felt the tense atmosphere on the bridge. Every day another adventure, she thought. Whatever they encountered here, whatever they found - they could never be sure if it would prove a simple distraction or a direct threat to the ships and crews safety. „Transporter room to bridge, we are ready for transport. Class two containment field is in place.“ „Beam abord, Lieutenant Torres.“

Silence fell in the transporter room when the object was beamed aboard. Janeways voice had to pierce through the confused haze that had befallen the crew in engineering twice before B’elanna managed to answer her. „I’m initiating an emergency transport to sickbay, Captain. It’s … you better have a look for yourself.“ „Quite a mystery“, Janeway said as she got up. „Number One, you come with me. Tuvok you have the bridge.“

The Doctor and Kes were already at work when Janeway and Chakotay arrived in sickbay. The captain immediately felt her brows furrow in confusion - much like the expression of her Number One. „Now, what do we say to that?“ „You know what I have to say about chance, Captain“, muttered the dark haired man, his eyes practically glued to the form in front of them. „Doctor?“ Janeway lifted her voice and the medical hologram didn’t even bother looking up from his patient. „All our scans confirm her as a female human.“ he simply stated. „I assume that you will want to keep her equipment for scan and research?“ „You assume correctly, Doctor.“ Janeway answered. She would’ve sounded bemused were it not for the figure on the biobed before her - the spacesuit she wore was not old-fashioned, it was antiquated. She had seen a thing like that in starfleet academy archives. And the women within. She sure wore a uniform of the United Federation, but the overall impression was that of a person that had stepped right out of a holo novel. The Doctor transported the body of the human out of her suit onto another biobed. His assistance began immediately to carefully remove the clothes from her body.

„She looks bad“, sad Chakotay close to Janeways right side and she nodded along in confirmation of his assessment. The body in front of them was covered in bruises - dark blue and red splotches on her skin, almost giving the impression of someone only related to modern humans. Where she was not bruised, petechia covered her, giving the distinct impression of her skin glowing. Her right ankle was twisted in an unnatural angle and dried blood covered her face and had her short hair in dirty tangles. The list of visible injuries didn’t end there - in short, she was in a miserable condition. „Can you say what has happened to her, Doctor?“ „Massive trauma“, he answered - which was more then a bit vague. „I must confess I am not quite sure what would cause such a massive trauma. Her body must have endured extreme pressure.“ he continued calmly while directing Kes at the same time. „It will take a few days, but I expect her to make full recovery.“ was his last addition after which he focused back on his patient. "Looks like we’ll have to quell our curiosity for just a few days more. Mr. Paris will collect the suit and her equipment later, he has a knack for antiques. Maybe he can tell us more.“

It was loud outside her mind. She didn’t want to wake, not yet. As soon as she had passed out what was left of her awareness had fled from terror and pain into the relative comfort of her memories. She was sitting on a large boulder, overlooking a red skyline with Junior Agent Lorilee at her side. Silver trees littered the horizon. Were they on a training trip? She couldn’t say with certainty. But the lights and the voices outside her mind were so loud, so intrusive, diluting the peace of her deep sleep. Maybe she was dead. Maybe she was hallucinating her last seconds, her scared consciousness stretching moments into eternity to avoid the inevitable.

„Elevated alpha waves indicate she’ll awake within the next few minutes.“ „We’ll learn more about our mysterious Jane Doe.“ Two male voices, discussing. One of them very matter-of-factly, the other almost … cheerful. And a female voice, one that demanded respect, a dark timbre in contrast to everyone else. Keva shifted slightly. A faint trace of pain shot through her leg and she groaned. Could she be alive? There was no way she could have survived that and yet … here she seemed to be. Surrounded by voices and light and life. „Gentleman, give her room to wake up. Everyone that is not my Number One, Tom Paris and the sickbay crew is dismissed.“ So a ship had picked her up. Her mind started to pick up speed. Slowly. Very slowly in fact, but better then never again. „Her breathing indicates that she is awake.“ „Thank you, Doctor.“ the female voice said, maybe a notch too pointedly. Feet shuffled in the background. God, it was so bright. Carefully, slowly she pried her eyes open, lifted her right hand in an attempt to block out the light. Another moan escaped her mouth involuntarily. Every muscles hurt and ached as if she’d run a marathon that had ended with her in a junk press. How was she alive. That was impossible. A gross violation of the laws of physic. Her eyes took their sweet time to adapt to their surroundings and she blinked for a long moment until the shapes and colors in front of her fell into a sensible form. There was a woman in a red uniform - a sleek design, fitted tightly around her slender body. Next to her a man with short black hair, a tattoo covered part of his face and his inquiring eyes followed every moment closely. He stood close to the woman. Kevas gaze hovered further - another man, clad in a blue uniform of the same design, almost bald and checking the readings on what was perhaps a PADD. Her doctor, she thought. Next to her bed was another woman - a small delicate creature maybe a head shorter then Keva herself was. Something about her was odd and she made a mental note to enquire about her species later. Maybe some Vulcan hybrid. Lastly there was another man - taller then the other two with light blond hair and a confident, no, cocky expression to himself. She blinked a few more times, looking back to the woman who had her arms crossed in front of her chest, head cocked lightly in an expression of restrained curiosity.

„Welcome back to the living and aboard the USS Voyager.“ her voice was pleasant to listen to, if a bit unusual at first. It was a voice that was used to the burden of command and it made her feel at safety almost immediately. Starfleet, the young agent concluded and suppressed a groan. „USS Voyager…“ Kevas voice croaked hoarsely. She coughed a few times and almost at once the petite young woman handed her a glass of water, which she eagerly drank.„I am Captain Janeway. My Number One - Chakotay and Mr. Paris. The Doctor and Kes have been attending to your health over the last week.“ Keva nodded to each of them, only pondered a second over the  strange introduction as ‚The Doctor‘ and then looked around some more. Everything was off. Uncertainty settled in her gut. Everything here was polished. The uniforms strange. Had she been picked up by an experimental vessel? „Is this …“ the young woman stopped herself to remind herself of manners. „I am sorry, Captain. I am Keva Scofield.“ she said then and offered a weak smile as an excuse for her near Faux Pas. Should she disclose her affiliation just yet? She couldn’t remember protocol. Everything she knew and held dear was still in that heavy fog surrounding her. „It is our pleasure to have made your acquaintance.“ the Captain smiled kindly in return. It was almost motherly. „I am sorry to intrude upon your ship and have taken up a place in your sickbay.“ Keva continued, now very careful, her eyes once more wandering through the unsettling room. Everything was off just enough to make her wonder. „Are you…“ taking a deep breath, she collected herself once more. It was difficult to decide which question to forward first. „Can you provide me with a secure channel to federation headquarters?“ she then asked and provided her most convincing smile. „I’ll gladly explain everything afterwards.“

There was little more as unsettling as a group of people exchanging knowing glances without being part of said group. The woman actually sat down on the edge of her bed now, her grey eyes searching Kevas face with caution. „I am afraid that won’t be possible, Mrs. Scofield.“ „Agent.“, the young woman snapped and almost immediately regretted it. There was no reason to be irritated at the Captain, she told herself. „It’s .. Agent Scofield, Captain.“ Great. Another starfleet captain with whom she was off to a very good start. Before the captain, or anyone else really, could open their mouth she spoke up once more: „Captain, are you on a five year mission? Where is the next communication relay?“ „Relays?“ the tall young man muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Keva to hear. „There is no contact to the Federation or Starfleet command. It must sound strange to you, but we are stranded in the Delta Quadrant.“ Keva blinked once. Keva blinked twice. Stupefied silence was all that left her lips. The delta quadrant? Impossible. „Delta“, she muttered then and eyed them all once more, with more suspicion then before. The hair, the uniforms, the room that was somehow off. Her breath quickened enough for the Doctor to look over to her. „This must be very difficult for you to process.“ the Captain continued with a soft voice. „Delta Quadrant.“, the agent muttered once more, pressing her lips together until all that remained was a thin white line. She drew a couple of heavy breaths through her nose. „Doctor, her heart rate is elevated, oxygen levels are dropping.“ Kes whispered to the Doctor, her face concerned now. Keva took another deep breath, her nostrils flaring. „Captain… starfleet has not advanced to the Delta quadrant.“ And then she looked around again and slowly the pieces of this puzzle fell into place. It struck her, right into the chest, like a phaser hitting her in full force. „Keva… what stardate is right now?“ the woman with the grey eyes didn’t even mind the use of her first name right now. The young agent knew what was coming next. She dreaded it. „Doctor…“ the blonde alien began again, but the Doctor lifted his hand to cut her off, shaking his head. He knew and monitored the castaway closely. Keva drew on her training. Deep breaths. Counting. Her hands shook and before she could do something about it the older woman put a hand on her shoulder. The weight of it was comforting. Anchoring her in reality. „It’s August the 15th.“ Another deep breath. „2271. A tuesday.“ Another exchange of looks between the group. How far uptime was she? Ten years? Twenty? The Doctor walked over to them. God, they knew. They knew. She looked up into the Captains eyes, into those warm eyes, barely hiding the pity she felt for her. She counted to four while breathing in. Held for a second. Waiting for the final blow. And then slowly counted to eight while breathing out again. „I am so sorry … Agent.“ the Captain paused for a second. Sorry. She wanted to spew the word back to the captain, but what had that woman done to her? No. It was a job hazard. Came with the description of her position. Thirty years? The thought crossed her anxious mind completely uninvited. „But the current year is 2372.“ A hundred years.

„Oh.“ she could feel her heart skip a beat. „Do you remember what happened?“ A hundred years uptime. Scofield burst into a humorless barking laughter that nobody joined into. The contraction of her muscles was painful to endure and tears welled up in her eyes, real but involuntarily. She was temporally displaced. No. Not only that. She stopped laughing as suddenly as she had started and looked into all those concerned faces around her. The pain that lingered in her bones and muscles despite the medication she had undoubtedly received felt strangely real and comforting. She was also displaced in the most traditional sense of the word - completely cut off from her friends and family, from her home, her planet - her quadrant even. A hundred fucking years uptime. Still owing the Captain an answer, she began to explain. „I am from the Federation Department of Temporal Investigation.“ A few eyebrows were raised, which was oddly reassuring as it probably meant that the DTI was still kicking about. „Me and my partner were sent out to investigate a time rift a few parsec from vulcan space. The freighter mercury was destroyed and it’s Captain and First Officer were missing.“ She carefully watched the expression of her listeners, but nobody seemed to recognize the name mercury. Which probably meant that they were displaced somewhere else. An unstable rift? She filed the information back for later, threw that bit onto the ever growing pile of thoughts demanding a closer inspection. „I collected the telemetry logs from mercury and then went out to … deploy the monitoring drones to get chronitonic readings on the rift.“ „You got too close to the gravity well of the rift?“ the tall blonde asked, a little bit too eager for her taste. Keva gasped, as if she just remembered herself, feeling the shock once again. „I was pushed.“ The Doctor cleared his throat pointedly. „Pushed?“ Chakotay raised his voice now in surprise. „Pushed“ confirmed the agent once again and rubbed her temples. „By a man. There was a man on the ship.“ The Doctor cleared his throat once more. "I think it is time for my patient to rest.“ he put a heavy emphasis on the ‚I think‘. The captain rose from Kevas bed unwillingly. „Yes, I think that should be enough for today. Tomorrow…“ she exchanged a look with the Doctor. „I’ll be back tomorrow. Rest well, Agent Scofield. If you have any questions … we’ll answer all your questions tomorrow.“ The Doctor scooted them all out of her room now, looking thoroughly disapproving of the whole situation and the additional stress everyone had put his patient under. But Keva Scofield had already fallen back into a deep, dreamless sleep. A hundred years.

„Mr. Paris.“ prompted Janeway once they were outside. „I understand you had no luck in extracting any information from her equipment?“ „It was pretty beat up, Captain.“ he shrugged apologetically. „Which does not surprise me any more, to be honest with you.“ „Hm.“ Janeway nodded and glanced over to Chakotay who seemed to be waiting for her to make a decision. „Go over her equipment again with Lieutenant Torres. See what you can salvage. I have a feeling we’re not through yet.“ „I will get right to work.“ With Mr. Paris gone, Chakotay seized his captain up once more. „You think someones intervening here?“ She nodded grimly. „She’s from a hundred years in the past. And conveniently drops in the delta quadrant right in scanner range? A little too convenient for my taste.“ „You’re right“ he conceded. They both walked down to the bridge in silence for a moment. „This is going to be tough for her. Keva. She looks like she's barely out of her twenties.“ The dark haired man sounded thoughtful. „We'll have to be gentle.“ Janeway bowed her head in agreement, sounding equally thoughtful. „How should we tell the crew?“ She turned her head to look at him. „We had Tom in the room and nothing was declared confidential yet.“ Chakotay mused. „If you don’t intervene, Neelix will want to interview her for his news program come tomorrow morning.“ The captain chuckled at the thought. „We should prevent that.“ „Yes. Yes we should.“ Both laughed for a moment and then entered the bridge.

„Tuvok, to my ready room please. Chakotay, take the bridge.“

TAG LIST! LEMME KNOW IF YOU WANT ON OR OFF!

@flowerbunbunny @winterknightdragon @poetictrekkie @foxyverse @meganlpie 

[calzona-ga]

Showrunner Krista Vernoff and out trans actor Alex Blue Davis talk with THR about how they'd like the ABC medical drama to advance the storylines for trans characters and actors.

There's a line of dialogue in Thursday's Grey's Anatomy that showrunner Krista Vernoff rewrote more times than she can count. But the impact of the line — from out trans actor Alex Blue Davis (who plays new intern Casey) to his boss, Bailey (Chandra Wilson) — was worth reworking a million times: "I'm a proud trans man, Dr. Bailey. I like for people to get to know me before they find out my medical history."

The moment comes after Casey has just saved Bailey and all of Grey Sloan Memorial from a hacker who, having taken over its computer systems and air conditioning, left several patients in jeopardy and pushed the hospital to the brink of closing. The episode also followed Casey's very personal reveal, having let both his new colleagues and viewers alike get to know him as a person before they learn something deeply personal about him.

"We worked very hard and very closely with Alex and [LGBTQ advocacy group] GLAAD on this storyline," Vernoff tells The Hollywood Reporter. "The scene in which Casey disclosed to Bailey that he was a 'proud trans man' was rewritten more times than anything else — we wanted it exactly right."

Inspired by President Donald Trump's proposed (and since blocked) ban on transgender individuals serving in the armed forces, Vernoff set out to tell a story about a trans veteran. Vernoff then intentionally cast a trans actor for the role of Dr. Casey Parker, one of the long-running medical drama's six new interns for season 14.

"We wanted the audience to get to know this character before they knew his private medical information; we wanted his disclosure to not feel like an 'A-ha!' shock but a genuine unfolding of this character's truth when he felt safe with someone," Vernoff says.

Thursday's episode resolved the hospital's cliffhanger from last year's midseason finale as Casey confides in Bailey that he was arrested for hacking into the DMV's computer system. Bailey is initially stunned as her background check on her new intern didn't catch that very important fact. That's when Casey discloses that there was a mistake on his driver's license that wasn't a typo: his local DMV declined to issue him a new license with his proper gender after he transitioned so he hacked into the system and fixed it himself.

"A lot of people don't understand what you mean when you say 'mistake' on a driver's license — they think it's a typo," Davis tells THR. "It wasn't enough for people to understand what female-to-male is and it's hard to have that changed [on your driver's license] in a lot of states. It's a serious issue."

Davis, whose previous credits included episodes of 2 Broke Girls andNCIS: Los Angeles, says he knew when he was cast that he'd be playing a character with comedic sensibilities that come from a Sandra Oh-like level of directness — who also was transgender. "What's cool about the show, the episode and Krista's vision for this character is he's about way more than being trans," Davis says, noting that he sees Casey's story as unexplored territory on the small screen. "I cried at the table read, it was very moving for me. I've been waiting for a moment like this on TV my whole life. I am so honored I got to say that line on TV because it's a long time coming."

Indeed. Just like Ellen's coming out on her ABC comedy in 1997 proved to be a landmark moment in television and pop culture, transgender characters have become more common on the small screen: Showtime's Shameless features trans actor Elliot Fletcher (who also played trans characters on Faking It and The Fosters) in a romantic storyline with a gay character; Orange Is the New Black star Laverne Cox made history last season as broadcast's first openly trans actress playing a transgender series regular character (on CBS' short-lived Doubt) and multiple trans actors have had roles on Amazon's Transparent. But what Davis and Vernoff hope Grey's can do is advance the types of storytelling featuring trans characters and actors.

"Trans people for years have been represented as punchlines, victims and villains and not as whole people and I was not aware of that until I went through the experience of my friend's son disclosing that he was transgender," Vernoff says.

Those (married) friends were former Grey's Anatomy showrunners Tony Phelan and Joan Rater (whose son helped inspire Cox's character on Doubt) and whom Vernoff remains close with after working with them as far back as season two of the Shondaland medical drama. (Phelan and Rater's son, Tom Phelan, played a trans character on Freeform's GLAAD Award-winning drama The Fosters.)

"When Tom transitioned, I found myself confused, frightened and bewildered by it all because I had never personally known a trans person or understand what it meant for Tom," Vernoff confesses. Rater, Vernoff recalls, at the time sent a lengthy email to friends and family in which she posed questions and answers that they might have about her son. Vernoff was moved by the experience and never forgot the feeling of love and acceptance she saw for Tom from Phelan and Ratner and those around them.

"Realizing that a trans person is like any other person with a journey in this lifetime — they are not victims, villains, weird or wrong; they're none of the things people believe when they support laws like the one that Trump put forward," Vernoff says. "My goal as a storyteller was to help illuminate that experience as an ally. I reached out to GLAAD for help in doing that because I am only an ally and not a member of LGBTQ community. They were more than happy to help."

For the L.A.-born Davis, also a singer-songwriter whose music has been featured on shows including MTV's Pranked, seeing more inclusive storytelling in which trans characters are not sensationalized is a welcome change.

"TV is opening up a greater range of roles [for trans characters]: Laverne played a lawyer on Doubt, and I'm playing a doctor — both roles haven't really been seen before [for trans characters]," Davis says. "People can see trans folks in a new light: these are people who walk among us and are human beings who have lives. They're not defined by being trans." And just like the gay actors playing straight roles debate that has (thankfully) come and gone, Davis and Vernoff hope the next frontier is seeing trans actors playing characters in which their gender is not the central storyline as well as trans actors playing heterosexual characters where their trans-ness also has no impact on the role.

"What's important for me to remember is there are opportunities out there where I don't have to play trans," Davis says. "I'm an actor. I love acting. I do love that I'm also representing a group of people who have been underrepresented, and that's awesome. But being trans is not my identity; I identify as male. There are male roles out there that I want to play. And being an actor who happens to be trans, it'd be awesome if all those roles opened up for me because people see me and how I define myself."

As for what comes next for Casey, Vernoff says the writers have talked about casting a love interest for Davis' character. The showrunner also hopes to reunite with Fletcher, with whom she worked on Shameless, and cast the actor as "just a dude" on Grey's.

"There's so many beautiful stories to tell and representation changes minds and hearts," Vernoff notes of the impact of art on society. She pointed to Grey's creator Shonda Rhimes adding characters like Arizona (Jessica Capshaw) and Callie (Sara Ramirez) at a time when it was still considered a rarity to put gay or bisexual people on TV and having audiences fall in love with them before revealing their sexuality. "When there's bigotry in the world, people can point and say, 'No, I have a friend who is gay and it's someone you know' — and you realize that it's a character you love on TV. That's how we influence people to open minds and hearts."

That's part of the reason Vernoff wants to try and avoid telling a story in which Casey faces any backlash just because of who he is. "One of the things we talked about with GLAAD is wouldn't it be revolutionary to just tell human stories about trans characters? There's a fair amount of hate that's already depicted and hate feeds hate. I just wanted Casey to be a whole person who is an Army veteran, a good doctor and one of the gang — who happens to be trans. I didn't want to do hate," she says.

That's not to say that Casey won't disclose his medical history again in an upcoming episode as Vernoff and the Grey's writers have yet to break the last third of season 14.  

"We talked about how, when and why trans people disclose their private medical history to their community. Casey might disclose out of advocacy, if we had patient who was trans or doctor who was insensitive to patient but I imagine Casey has disclosed to some of the interns," Vernoff notes. "My goal for Casey was to gently disclose his private medical history to Bailey and, by extension, to America and then keep him in our world as the doctor he is becoming. I told GLAAD and Alex that I'm open to continuing to talk and work with them if there are more stories that would be helpful or ways that I can be an ally."

[myhappyendings32]

Life Altercation’s

Chapter 9

Calzona AU: Callie Torres had it all, popularity, captain of the cheerleading squad, dating the starting Quarterback of Seattle Grace Mercy West High School football team, a straight A student, and with the love and support of her family she is one her way to a full ride scholarship to medical school at Johns Hopkins. What happens when tragedy hits? Will a blued eyed blonde-haired fire cracker be able to lead her back on track or will she be forced to give it all up?

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or phrases of Greys Anatomy, if I did Callie and Arizona would still be together.

__________________________________________________

‘Hakuna Matata!

What a wonderful phrase

Hakuna Matata!

Ain’t no passing craze

It means no worries, for the rest of your days

It’s our problem-free

Philosophy,

Hakuna Matata!’

Thanks to the Oxycodone that Callie was prescribed for her routine meds, the little dance party to Hakuna Matata, that the girls and I have going on is not affecting the beautiful brunette sleeping in the bedroom across the hall one bit.

“I want dance with Nona, Emma!” Ashlyn pushes Emma out of the way to get closer too me.

Emma than retaliates and pushes her back. “Nooooo. She my sissy.”

These 2 have been spending way too long with each other, they are starting to fight like sisters. “Girls, no shoving, we need to have nice hands. Now you both can dance with me on each side.”

Apparently neither of them liked my solution to the problem. “Zona, we dance you me.” Emma looks directly at Ashlyn, glares at her and says; “Not Ashwin!”

“Emma, we can all dance together.” I say, and with that the water works are full on display.

“You don’t love me no mores.” She is lying on the ground arms and feet flailing up and down throwing a temper tantrum. “You like Ashwin more den me.”

2 almost 3 months ago Emma was diagnosed with Autism. Autism, or autism spectrum disorder, refers to a broad range of conditions characterized by challenges with social skills, repetitive behaviors, speech, and nonverbal communication, as well as by unique strengths and differences. We now know that there is not one autism but many types, caused by a combination of genetic and environmental influences.

Flashback

Dad, Emma, and I are sitting in the waiting room anticipating the arrival of a nurse to call us back. Today is the day we are going to find out why Emma is so quiet and standoffish at times also we would like to find out why her temper tantrums have gotten worse instead of better.

“Emma Robbins” The nurse calls out.

“That’s us” I respond, as far as asking and answering questions about Emma my father has left that up to me. He is there because of the adult factor, but knowing what to say and what to ask has never been his forte. Which surprises me because of his military background, nonetheless I don’t question it.

We are led out of the waiting room and into a room with Disney characters in lining the walls and medical supplies throughout the room. “I’m Mackenzie” Mackenzie gets down to Emma’s level and asks; “How are you doing miss Emma?”

Silence

“Hi, I’m Arizona, I am Emma’s older sister.” She is never going to get anything out of Emma. The only adult I have ever seen her talk to besides our dad is Calliope. “I’m sorry, but Emma is a hard person to get to talk.”

The nurse nods at my response. “I completely understand, a lot of kids are not a fan of the doctor and getting them to say anything is nearly impossible.”

“No, you don’t understand, her not talking is why we are here and her temper tantrums.”

Nodding, the nurse goes about taking Emma’s vital signs, and weight, at which Emma surprisingly abides to. After Nurse Mackenzie leaves we wait about 20 minutes, (but with Emma’s impatience it seems much longer) for the doctor to appear. “I am doctor Higgins M.D.” Smiling at Emma and then looking at my dad she inquires you must be Mr. Robbins?” She puts her hand out to shake.

My father being my father clears his throat and states; “That’s the Colonel” All I can do is roll my eyes. He is so embarrassing sometimes. I get his position in the military I really do, and I couldn’t be prouder of him, but don’t correct someone who calls you mister.

“Excuse me, my apologies Colonel.” He sits back down, and she looks at me and asks; “And you are?”

My hand flies out in front of me to shake her hand. “My name is Arizona Robbins, I am Emma’s sister. Also, if you could direct all your questions to me and if its all right with you I would like to be able to tell you what’s going on with Emma?”

The look on her face is filled with both amusement and concern. “Sure of course if that is what The Colonel wants?” Her gaze goes to my father and he gestures his head in a up and down motion. “Ok then, what is going on with Emma?”

“The last couple of months we noticed some drastic changes in her behavior. She goes quiet for a long period of time and when she does talk it’s very minimal. Within the last month she has started throwing temper tantrums and they only get worse each time.”

Dr. Higgins looks back to dad and again nods a yes in confirmation. “How has her eating habits been?”

“She eats’ as well as a normal 2-year-old eats. She is a meticulous eater will only eat select foods like Macaroni and cheese, she loves peaches, banana’s, and oranges, and sometimes depending on her mood I can get her too eat some meats such as chicken or turkey.” My sister comes walking up to me and puts both arms out for me to hold her. “Would it be ok if Emma sits on my lap?” She says yes and writes something in her notepad.

“Her weight is normal, vitals are normal.” Then why did she just ask me how her eating habits were? “I’m going to ask you a series of questions about Emma and I would like you to answer them as honest as possible.” I shake my head yes in agreement. “Question 1: How is Emma towards others outside of your household?”

“She won’t talk to anyone except for a friend of mine that I recently have been hanging out with.” My blue eyes sparkle just mentioning her.

Dr. Higgins follows up with another question. “Why do you think that your friend has that effect on her?”

“Honestly… I think it has more to do with her sister than anything else. She has a sister Emma’s age and they have really connected and I think that might have a lot to do with her liking Callie, but Callie is a great person in my opinion.”

The red headed Doctor continues on with her assessments and I happily answer all of them as truthfully as possible until she makes a diagnosis. “Sounds like she has Autism to me. Now it looks like she almost 3 which means that she will be eligible for school here soon? First, I would like you too to take her to another Doctor one who specializes in Autism at Seattle children’s Autism Center, just to confirm my suspicions, then if they confirm it I would like you too sign her up at Academy of Precision Learning.”

End of Flashback

Of course, it was confirmed that she has Autism, since then my dad signed her up for The Academy of Precision Learning and we have toured the place. I think this will be a good experience for her.

Picking Emma up off of the floor and carrying her over to the couch she is still wailing over what she believes is the word, but really its nothing. “Emma, you know I love you so much. Do you want to know how much I love you?” Her head pops up and she looks at me with my arms extended out to both of my sides. “I love you this much.” I extend wider to prove my point.

Her dimples pop out and her crying succumbs to sniffles. “Really?”

“You better believe it baby girl. I just think that Ashlyn should be able to dance with us too.” Her sniffles turn into a whine and her lips start too quiver. “How about we not dance and maybe watch a movie?”

Both Girls shout yay. Thank god, they like that idea. I am hoping that popping in the Lion King will put them to sleep and allow me to get the house cleaned, I also am hoping that I can put my plan into action to help relieve Callie’s stress.

It’s been a week since Calliope confessed about her mom and what happened. I cannot begin to fathom the hurt and agony that Calliope has gone through. Put that on top of losing her father, and now raising her little sister… how has she gone this long without help and not cracking?

The girls were pretty worn out from the dance party so not even ten minutes into the movie and both of them are out, now its time to get into action. Callie has been sleeping for an hour and will probably be waking up here soon, so I need to hurry in my restraint of time. __________________________________________________

“Wow, you got both of the girls asleep and the house looks amazing Arizona.” Callie says as she strides up towards me.

I help her over to the love seat and sit right next to her. After her heart felt confession, her and I have gotten very very close, both personally and affectionately. She trusts me now. Well… as much as she can. There are still times where she still tries too push me away, but I pull out my Robbins charm and bedazzle her with kindness. “Hey beautiful, how was your nap?”

Her hand ends up on my thigh and she starts to rub it as she gazes into my orbs. I really don’t think she knows what she does too me when she does that. Her eyes are glazed over, probably from the medicine, but it almost looks sexual. Callie had her first doctor’s appointment yesterday and where everything is looking great are hormones on the other hand have to be contained for at least 6 to 8 more weeks. I can’t wait and neither can she. She goes into give me a peck, which one peck leads to another peck, which leads to another and before I know it her tongue is invading my mouth, her hand that was messaging my thigh moves further towards where I would love her too be and right there I have too stop her. My hand moves to hers and halts it. I then make a stop too the kissing and growl at the loss of her lip.

“Wh-why did you stop?” She asks me confused. “It was getting good.”

I smirk she is almost as bad as a horny boy. “You know we aren’t allowed to do anything while your still in recover Calliope and it would look pretty bad if I was making you scream my name while the girls were right there.” Looking down at the precious sight I continue. “Besides I want too woo you take you out on an official date before you and I go all the way.”

“Okay… I guess you are right. It’s just kissing you feels so good I can’t help myself sometimes.”

I know what she is talking about. Pulling back is getting too be harder and harder every time. Instead of answering her I change the subject. “Christmas is a few days away what are your plans?” When I say a few days away I mean 5 days. I love this time a year.

She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m not sure.” The lust that was in her eyes dissipates into tears and sadness. “I haven’t even gotten Ashlyn her presents, not even sure I will have the money for Christmas presents for her. I’ve been out of work for almost 3 months and I only had not even a week of vacation and sick time. The last time I got paid was a month and a half ago.”

Now I’m confused. “I thought that you were getting your parents inheritance?”

“I am, but not for another 7 months when I turn 18.” My dimples beam out as I am about to give her the surprise of a lifetime. “This is bad news Arizona. How can you smile?”

My hand finds hers and I start. “Calliope, I have talked to Dr. Richard Webber and a couple of approved staff that he told me that knows your situation and they are all doing a what they call an Angel tree. Usually the people that are doing the Angel Tree would go out and get the presents, but none of us was sure what exactly you or Ashlyn wanted or needed, So Dr. Webber pulled anonymously a pool of money and half is going towards you presents for you and your sister and the other half is going towards living expenses. To help out.”

She still has tears in her eyes, but I have a feeling that those tears are tears of joy. “Th-th-thank you.” She chokes out. “I L-llo love the Idea of that, but I can’t take someone else’s money. That’s not who I am.”

“Calliope Torres. You will take the money offered to you.” I get my bookbag that has a lock box and key that is capturing the money and grab the black metal box to retrieve the green bills hidden within the said box.

When I open it, her eyes nearly bug out of her head at the sight of all the bills. “There’s got to be thousands of dollars in there. I definitely can’t take that much…”

“You can, and you will Calliope. I have non-refundable money with me and the only person who is aloud to spend it is you, so you might as well start thinking of what you want to buy Emma for Christmas, because again you only have 5 days.” She gets up and heads into her room. “What are you doing?” I ask

“Bringing out the baby monitor so that I can take you to my bed and show you how much I appreciate you.” My mouth begins to move, and she puts her hand on it. “There is no rule that says we can’t have a good old fashion make out party.”

There isn’t any rule that says that. With a sultry whisper I state. “I will agree to this as long as there is no funny business” With that she is dragging me onto her bed.

__________________________________________________

Emma and I had to go home for more clothes and we needed to see what’s going on at the Robbins front. Emma had woken up first and, so I decided that taking her now was as good as any. I volunteered to bring Ashlyn, but Callie said that she was more than ok with keeping her there.

“Dad.” I bellow. “Emma and I are home.”

My dad is in the living room watching football. He is a big Seattle Seahawks fan and when he got transferred here he was the most excited I have ever seen him. Men and football, I tell you. “Hey pumpkin, I wasn’t expecting you home so soon?” Emma runs up too him and gave him a big hug with a daddy for extra. She may not show it much, but my dad has always been her favorite. Sometimes it takes being away for a while to realize that. “Hey peanut, how’s my favorite girl?” He asks as he tickles her tummy. He brings out a giggle that has been hidden away for a long time.

Even though I really want to be mad at the favorite girl, her giggling makes it hard. “We have run out of clothes and was just making sure that all was ok here. How’s Timmy doing, I haven’t seen him in almost a week?”

“He has been spending every waking moment with that girl he’s been seeing. I think her name is Tanya… no that’s not it.” He scratches his head.

“Teddy dad. You’re looking for Teddy and she is amazing I am glad that their relationship is working out. I do have a question and I need you to have an open mind about it?”

His face straightens up and he puts Emma down. “What’s going on?”

“Calliope and Ashlyn don’t have anywhere to go for Christmas and if you say no, I will understand, but I will have to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas with her and Ashlyn…”

My dad drops the magazine he had on the coffee table to get my attention. Damn, I have picked up her rambling. “What is your point sweetie.”

Taking a deep breath and spit out. “Can Callie and Ashlyn stay over at our house for Christmas eve and Christmas?”

He smiles picks up the remote to turn off the tv and says; “Of course they can stay with us. On one condition?”

“What’s that?” I question

“She has too sleep in a separate room.”

I think that can be arranged __________________________________________________

Thoughts?

AN: Wanted to post this on Christmas, but fanfiction was down and wasn’t letting me post. I will try and post today.

Guest that said that they wished there was more smut. I was thinking about that and if anyone would like to assist me with it that would be great.

Next, I do have quite a ways too go, but if anyone has anything they would like to see let me know.

AN2: Thank you everyone for the follows, Reviews, and favorites.

P.S. again if you want to give me a Christmas present hit that review button.