#they tell him he's not A Real Doctor and he goes yeah! sure! i am not gonna try to be your definition of a real doctor either

[dylanlila]

what i mean when i say that cameron is a better wilson to house than wilson is that house and cameron make better narrative foils because fundamentally they are the same and wilson and house are very different people. i understand this is a hot take.

[scrubbinn]

Mimic HRT: month 21 “Mended patience”

“Mx, are you alright? Is there something I could get you, water, earmuffs? You can ask if there's anything you need.”

“Huh? Oh, no water please. And I'm fine. It's just…”

“It's scary, right? Dealing with doctors I mean. I'd imagine being here is scary enough. Don't worry, everything will be ok. Now let's see… You're Jasmine, right? Jasmine Elwood? You use Gard/Graden neo pronouns, yes?

“Y-yes, that’s right.”

“It's a lovely name. You're a bit early, but I'll page Erian to check if he can see you now. You can take a seat if you like, and be sure to ask if you need assistance with anything.” 

“um, are you a therian? I'm in the right clinic, yeah? it's just, I thought there would be others working here.”

“I'm an otherkin. A mimic. Almost two years in at this point. I just like using my human form when I work. It's tough to maintain but it's harder to work a computer otherwise. I'm currently an assistant to Dr. Erian, and also the receptionist for the next few months after the last one suddenly quit. I swear the more I work here the more I wonder how this place managed to stay afloat for so long. Sorry, I don't mean to make this place sound bad or cheap. It's helped me quite a lot with becoming who I was meant to be. I'm sure you'll find exactly what you're looking for here.”

“...Thanks.”

“Oh, looks like the doctor will see you now. But one last thing before you go in. You can choose if you would like to meet Dr. Erian alone, or if you wish for an assistant such as myself to sit in with you to make sure everything is more comfortable-

“Yes. that. Please. Uh, if that's ok.”

“Sure thing! Please follow me.”

* * * 

“Hello. I'm Dr. Erian, and you would be Ms. Elwood, correct? Is that your actual family name? You'll need to use your real name or else there could be legal trouble. Eitherway, I’ve taken the time to read through most of the files that were transferred from your old provider. It seems you just entered your first year on a normal HRT which is good, we wouldn’t be able to give you this treatment otherwise. Now then, let’s take a look at the documentation you filled out for me. You should be grateful that we’ve now moved to an informed consent model due to certain clientele. Ahem, anyways, it says here you’re looking to become a golem? Odd, with your name I assumed you-

“Doctor. Please focus on the client, and don’t make assumptions.”

“Right. Well, switching from a carbon based lifeform to silicon is tricky and involves crossing not just a species threshold but also a biological one. Not to mention there could be a lot of damage to your body if anything goes wrong. Perhaps you could explain why you think you're a golem?”

  “I, um, I- I’m sorry. I’m just a little nervous right now. I have trouble speaking sometimes.”

“Speak up Ms, I couldn't make out what you were- ow. Mayday! May I remind you that-

“Sorry about that Jasmine. You can ignore him for now. Focus on me and let’s take some deep breaths together. In and out ok? In and out, there you go! Do you think you could tell me what being a golem is like?”

“Um, it’s just, it’s just who and what I am. I can’t really describe it. It’s the only thing I can see myself as. There's some days where I just lie outside completely still and let nature move around me. It's peaceful.”

“Ok! Did you get that doc?”

“Sigh, alright fine. At least it sounds like you've been living as your preferred species for a while now. I suppose we can move on to other topics. It will take some time to formulate the proper medication for something like this, but through modern magic and medicine, it can be done. Now, we'll need to go over some paperwork, mostly an acknowledgement of potential risk. You could no longer be considered human depending on legal changes. I'll give you time to look it over.”

“Um, do… Do you know what I might look like if I took this medication? I know what I am but I'm a bit scared something is going to happen.”

“I could show you if you want, I have an idea of what you might want based on what you've told me…

…Well, what do you think? Oh! Please don't touch, I'm not actually made of rocks and you might poke a tooth.”

“Sorry it's just. You look like me. The real me.”

“Well doc? Think we can make something like this?”

“I suppose so, it won't have the specific details, but the general shape is possible. Let's continue the discussion on your treatment first, and if you agree, then we can have a prescription ready in a month.”

* * *

“You performed Adequately Ms. Mulberry. Perhaps you'll actually make a decent assistant, and it seems Ms. Elwood will have a bright future thanks to this clinic. There aren't any other client meetings today, so I'll have you handling prescriptions to send out to pharmacies. Before that though, how has the progress gone on documenting your species?”

“If you mean my mimicry in general, it's going well. I'll have my findings on your desk next month. If you mean learning about the other voice I've been hearing. No luck there. It doesn't show up unless I'm feeling some kind of extreme emotion. Looking back it feels like it wasn't just one voice, but several. It's hard to figure out, some of the others in the THEMS group have some ideas as to what it could be.

“Being influenced by the thoughts of a third party with no medical experience isn't going to solve anything. Please look into it further on your own. I can't move forward with patenting this medication without knowing if this is a potential side effect, or if it's just something in your head..”

“That certainly didn't stop you with me. Look, I'm still going to work with the support group if they can help. Plus when I start my therapy sessions it's going to be something that'll have to come up at some point. Someone else is going to be involved in this. What you should be focusing on right now is Jasmine's treatment.”

“Yes I really should start working on her tre-

“You mean garden treatment. And stop saying Ms. It's Mx. Gard listed garden gender as a non-binary option.”

“Yes, whatever. I have a lot of things to keep track of. Can't keep up with every little detail about a patient. That's your job now, and don't go forgetting who's in charge here! Your little blackmail attempt amounted to nothing. So don't go cutting me off again! Not now, and especially not during client meetings! I have the power to fire you if I see a single slip up. Remember which of us is the doctor and which of us is the assistant. Now then, I expect a report of your mimic status by next week and you should hurry along to fulfill your duties to our clients.”

“What do you mean it amounted to nothing?”

“Excuse me? What are you saying?”

“I'm saying that I'm here right now aren't I? I don't mean that you gave me this job, I mean you gave me legal access to all those files I wanted. It's kind of crazy you didn't realize. I guess I hit the nail on the head when I assumed you'd see me as an opportunity to show other therians that you're on our side. But now, I have complete access to everything and I can legally be a whistleblower to the public here. If you ever hurt me again, I'll send out everything. And I won't even be affected. After all, I'm just an innocent assistant concerned for the safety of the general public. I'm sure with your reputation completely sunk, it wouldn't be hard to replace you. There's a number of other doctors that would kill to have your position. You wouldn't survive.”

“You're implying I still have a reputation to lose. I felt pity for you when you fought for the last spark of hope in your life, to see you squandering it on threats like this… Are you truly so vain that you feel the need to pretend your bluff had weight.”

“Erian, I'm saying this for your own benefit. If people knew what kinds of things you did in this clinic. I don't mean you'd lose your medical license or be run out of town. I'm pretty sure they'd come after your life. This isn't a threat, this is a warning. We're equals here now, whether you like it or not. I could be much worse, but I've decided to play nice.”

“...I see. Sigh, I'll die of stress from you at this point. Why even work here if you hate it and myself so much?”

“Mayday, the actual Mayday, wanted to work here before she forgot everything. She wanted to learn how to help people. I feel like I owe her that much. I don’t care if I have to step over you or any other bigot to reach that goal.”

“Of course you’d say something hokey like that. Always painting your actions as the only noble ones around you. You really are a monster the media made you out to be.”

“You're the one who made me like this. I had to relearn everything about playing human. Besides, you should have known something like this would happen eventually. If not me then someone would have found enough dirt on you. You're kind of sloppy when you hide evidence… Huh, I thought this kind of conversation would make me more angry, but this has been oddly calming. I suppose it's me no longer recognizing you as a threat. Congrats, now we know others mimics won't inherently hate you. At least not always. Now I just see you as potential food.”

“Food? Tell me then Ms. Mulberry, Did a part of you enjoy the taste of flesh?”

“Don't push it. How about you get back to work, I have patients to care for.”

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[renecdote]

the tide comes (and goes and goes)

yes this is my third fic in two days. no I am not okay.

@nymika-arts this one is for you 💛

It’s almost funny that Eddie brought him to the beach today. To the ocean. He doesn’t know—can’t know, Buck hasn’t told anyone—but Buck feels unbearably seen by it anyway. He almost wishes Bobby was here too, so he could let his captain wrap an arm around his shoulders and say, “See? It didn’t take either of us.”

(That’s not true though, is it? It took them, it just didn’t keep them.)

Buck, Eddie, the beach, and conversations about okay.

For BTHB: hyperventilating

[Read on AO3]

The water is calm. Too calm for surfing, Buck thinks, not that he’d be allowed to do that anyway. He’s pretty sure surfing comes under the no strenuous activity rule. Swimming, too, so he’s not really sure why Eddie dragged him out to the beach this morning when all he can do is sit in the sand and watch the water creep closer.

“Relax,” Eddie tells him, reaching up to poke at his shoulder. He’s lying on his back, eyes closed behind his sunglasses, and Buck has been trying and failing not to look at the way his tank top has ridden up slightly over his stomach, or the glow of morning sunlight across his skin, or the way his swim trunks stretch over his thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination.

So no. He can’t just relax.

He’s telling himself that the Eddie of it all is the only reason why.

“Why are we here?” Buck asks, dragging a finger through the sand. He draws a heart, then another, then another, then sweeps them all away with a flick of his hand.

“It’s a nice day.” Eddie doesn’t shrug, but Buck hears it in his voice anyway. “Why not?”

Buck frowns down at the sand between his fingers. He wonders whether he’ll ever be able to say, “you know, I’m pretty sure you jinxed me that day when you said you hoped the lightning wouldn’t strike twice,” without the joke falling flat.

“Why didn’t we bring Chris?” he asks.

An eyebrow raised over Eddie’s sunglasses. “It’s a school day.”

“Yeah, but…”

This is starting to feel like an ambush. Buck glances over his shoulder, half expecting Bobby to come walking down the beach towards them. Maybe Maddie and Hen and Chimney as well. He’s barely had a moment alone in the ten days since he was released from the hospital, someone always at the loft, someone else always calling or texting to check in. It’s unnerving that his phone is so silent now. So unnerving that Buck has to pull it out of his pocket just to check that it’s still on (that it’s still real).

Out over of the water, a seagull swoops down to the surface and arcs back up with a fish gleaming in its beak.

“Relax,” Eddie says again, quieter, and his hand is flat against Buck’s back this time, the kind of steady pressure that makes him take an automatic breath and lean into the touch. Eddie smiles. “There we go. Will you lie down now? You’re blocking my sun.”

Buck huffs. “Well if I’m blocking you sun…”

He lies back on the towel, legs stretched out in the warm sand, so close that he can feel the heat of Eddie’s body next to his own. His turns his head, watching his best friend’s chest rise and fall as he breathes, imagining how easy it would be to reach out and feel it.

I didn’t dream about you, he thinks about saying. I dreamed about everyone else but I think I was too scared to dream about you.

He takes a slow breath and holds it, holds it, holds it. Lets it out in a gust. He hasn’t told anyone that he wakes up in the night sometimes, the memory of feeling like he couldn’t breathe so visceral he thinks his lungs have stopped working again. Maybe he should, that seems like the kind of thing Maddie would tell him a doctor needs to know, but if he talks about it, then he has to talk about all the other shit going on in his head as well.

It’s almost funny that Eddie brought him to the beach today. To the ocean. He doesn’t know—can’t know, Buck hasn’t told anyone—but Buck feels unbearably seen by it anyway. He almost wishes Bobby was here too, so he could let his captain wrap an arm around his shoulders and say, “See? It didn’t take either of us.”

(That’s not true though, is it? It took them, it just didn’t keep them.)

Buck props himself up on his elbows, watching the waves race up the sand, then just as quickly retreat back to sea. He doesn’t know what time high tide is, but it’s pretty high now, surely it can’t get much higher. He glances down the beach, both directions, a crooked line of seaweed and driftwood dark against the sand.

(“It’s called a wrack zone,” Monica told him long ago, Virginia Beach bathed in golden sunset around them. “It marks the high tide line, where all the seaweed and other crap from the ocean has been washed up.”

“Why is it called wrack?” Buck asked, tracing a finger down her spine, drawing shell patterns on her suntanned back.

She laughed, a surprised kind of sound, like she couldn’t figure out why he would ask. “I don’t know, Evan. It just is. Why is anything called anything?”

He went to the library the next day, looked it up in a book and came back with the answer, and he told himself it didn’t sting when Monica didn’t care.)

“You’re thinking.” Eddie’s voice cuts through his eddying thoughts, his eyes still closed. “Stop it.”

Buck flicks sand at him. “I’m not allowed to think?”

“No.” Eddie opens one eye to look up at him. “I know what you’re like.”

Buck isn’t sure why that makes his heart stutter the way it does. He almost presses a hand against his chest, just to check that it’s still working right, but stops himself at the last second.

“Did you know that seagulls mate for life?” he asks, the first thing that comes to him, because he’s pretty sure Eddie is going to ask him if he wants to talk about what’s bothering him if he doesn’t say something, and Buck really, really doesn’t want to talk about what’s bothering him.

“Yes,” Eddie answers, surprising him. “You shared all your seagull facts after that call with the hang glider a while ago. They also have excellent memory.”

Buck barely remembers that call, it must have been… two years ago? Three? He can’t believe Eddie remembers it so well.

“What else?” he asks, curious.

“They’re omnivores,” Eddie recounts. “They fly in erratic patterns to avoid predators. They drink both salt and fresh water. And they’re symbols of healing and tranquility.”

Buck rolls his eyes, slumping back down on the sand. “Yeah, okay, I get it. Healing and tranquility.”

Eddie’s teeth poke out of the corner of his smile. “You’re the one who asked.”

He did. And he kind of wants to ask Eddie to keep talking forever, his voice drowning out the sound of the waves, but Buck bites his tongue and holds the words inside. Asking Eddie to talk to him now feels too much like the start of a slope, steep and slippery, ending in a rocky why didn’t you talk to me while I was in the coma?

The sand under his back is lumpy, something hard under his right shoulder than might be a shell, or an ocean-smooth rock, or just the nub of stick buried in the sand. Buck shifts to get away from it and ends up closer to Eddie.

“Sorry,” he mutters, starting to move away, but Eddie’s fingers brushing against the back of his hand stops him.

“’S’okay,” he says, and when Buck settles back down, he doesn’t move away. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

Getting there.

Buck closes his eyes, and doesn’t reach out to hold Eddie’s hand properly, no matter how easy it would be to do.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep.

Wakes with a start to Eddie shifting beside him, his heart suddenly pounding, his breath sticking in his chest.

“Sorry,” Eddie is saying, his shadow cast across Buck’s face. “Sorry, I was just—Buck?”

Buck swallows, and tries to breathe, and finds that he can’t do both those things at once. Should he be able to? He can’t remember. He can’t remember how his body is supposed to work. He shoves himself up to sitting and tries to suck in more air, but his lungs burn like they’re full of smoke, suffocating him from the inside out. There’s a part of him that always thought he’d die in a fire. That he’d die doing something reckless to save someone. It wasn’t supposed to be lightning. Wasn’t supposed to be a freak fucking accident.

“Hey,” softer, closer, Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, “you’re okay. We’re at the beach, remember? Can you breathe with me?”

He takes Buck’s hand and holds it against his own chest, skin and cotton both warmed from the sun, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. Inhale, hold for one, for two, for three, and exhale. Inhale, and hold, and exhale, and hold.

They’ve done this before. It was Eddie, then, wild-eyed and gasping after a nightmare, his back pressed so far back against the wall that Buck had to crawl onto the bed, practically on top of him, to pull his hand away from clawing at his chest and press it against Buck’s own instead. He’d been terrified, then. Is something close to terrified now. But this time it’s not Eddie he’s afraid of losing, it’s himself.

He makes himself take a breath. And another. And another. He focuses on the movement of Eddie’s chest, the beat of his heart under Buck’s fingertips, the warmth of his fingers around Buck’s wrist.

“That’s it,” Eddie murmurs, and his voice is low and steady, but when Buck meets his eyes, there’s a wild edge to them that he wasn’t expecting. A blurriness that he thinks is his own tears for a moment, until he blinks and they run down his cheeks, and he finds the blurriness still there.

Buck takes another breath and it trembles, rippling through his chest, his legs, down his arms. A gull caws and he flinches. The sun flashes bright on the water. A lightning flash. Half a memory. Sea mist like rain on his face. Eddie squeezes his wrist, pulling him back before he can get lost in it.

His other hand is tight around his phone, Buck realises, three numbers typed out on the screen ready to hit call: 9-1-1.

He takes a deep breath.

Another.

“I’m okay,” he makes himself say. “Sorry, I’m—I’m okay.”

He has a sudden surge of memory:

What’s wrong with him? Why didn’t you call 9-1-1?

Because he wouldn’t let me, so I called you.

And he’d thought then—must have thought, because Chimney said—

Maybe he’s just having a panic attack.

“How do you feel?” Eddie asks, and Buck knows he doesn’t mean emotionally, although they’ll probably get to that later. He means it the same way he means it on calls: what are your symptoms? where is the pain? what do we need to treat?

Irritation licks up Buck’s spine. He’s so sick of being a patient. Sick of resting, sick of everyone being worried all the time, sick of not being fine. He tugs his hand free of Eddie’s grasp to scrub roughly at his face.

“My lungs are fine,” he says, and it comes out more shaky than sharp. “My heart is fine, my—my hands, and my knee, and everything else is all fine. You can stop looking at me like that now.”

“Like what?” Calm. Even. Always so in control.

“Like I’m going to fucking break,” Buck snaps, and the rush of anger steals his breath again, makes him cough, one hand pressed against his chest, the other held up to hold Eddie back.

It doesn’t matter. Eddie doesn’t reach for him this time. He doesn’t let go of his phone either, though, 911 one finger tap away.

“Fuck,” Buck manages, when he has caught his breath again. He squeezes his eyes shut, curls over his knees and grips his hair, like maybe he can hold himself together. Maybe all he needs to do is hold, and hold, and hold. He wishes desperately that Eddie would touch him and is absurdly grateful that he doesn’t.

Somewhere down the beach, a child shrieks. Another laughs. A parent calls for them to come out of the water and Buck feels a shot of adrenaline straight to his heart. It’s so sudden and visceral he thinks he’s going to be sick, the world tilting on it’s edge, reality spiralling away from him. He has to put a hand down in the sand, warm and almost-smooth and real real real against his skin, to try and steady himself. Fuck. Why the hell did he let Eddie bring him to a beach?

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Eddie says eventually. “I promised your sister I’d have you back for lunch.”

Lunch is still hours away, but Buck only thinks about fighting it for a second.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and he’s suddenly too tired to care how tired he sounds. “Okay.”

They’re silent as they pick up their towels, shaking the sand out before throwing them over their shoulders, the cooler bag Eddie brought hanging from one arm, beach umbrella tucked under the other, flip flops carried to the grassy edge of the beach before they put them on. Buck’s skin feels itchy, gritty from more than just sand, and the water from the makeshift shower at the edge of the carpark does little to rinse the feeling off.

“Your hands are shaking,” he realises when they’re sitting in Eddie’s truck, the engine on but the car still in park. He reaches out, but Eddie pulls his hands away, wraps his arms around his chest and tucks them under his armpits, out of reach.

Time stretches, the engine ticking, cold air blowing through the vents. Buck shivers, then shivers again, and when gritting his teeth doesn’t work, he gives in and reaches under his seat for the hoodie he abandoned here earlier. 

“I’m okay,” he tries again, fiddling with his cuffs, watching Eddie out of the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Eddie opens his mouth, probably the start of an automatic denial, then closes it again, his jaw tight.

“You don’t have to apologise,” is what he finally says, and Buck hears you’re right, you did scare me. It leaves a strange, almost salty aftertaste in his mouth.

“Do you want me to drive?” he offers.

It gets Eddie to look at him. Whatever he sees makes him frown and he reaches for the fan dial to adjust the AC. Then he sighs, looking back at Buck while he slowly stops shivering, and the last thing Buck expects him to say is, “Maddie is going to kill me.”

“Maddie likes you,” he protests, even though he’s not sure what he’s really protesting. “Why would she kill you?”

Eddie gestures, up and down and then up again, as if to say look at you, you’re a mess. Buck glares, and hugs himself a little, and tells himself it’s not sulking.

“I knew you were conspiring,” he mutters, because this whole trip was definitely an ambush.

“We weren’t—” Eddie starts, and then he bites off with another sigh, frustrated this time. “How long have you been having panic attacks?”

Buck doesn’t say anything, taking his own turn looking out the window to avoid his best friend’s gaze.

“What happened to ‘you need to talk to me’?” Eddie pushes. “I’m pretty sure that goes both ways, Buck.”

“Because you’re so good at talking,” Buck shoots back, and he hates himself a little for the way that Eddie flinches.

He used to argue with Bobby like this too. Used to push them right to the edge, right to the cliff top of regret, and wait to see if Bobby would throw them both over it.

He waits now, braced against the free fall, adrenaline sharp at the back of his tongue.

“You died,” Eddie says abruptly, and it’s not the push Buck was expecting but it almost sends him into free fall anyway, the ground taken out from under him. “You were dead, Buck, for seven fucking minutes before we got your heartbeat back, and it almost killed me too. Is that what you want to hear?”

No.  The recoil presses Buck back into his seat. He’s got a hand against his chest before he realises it hurts, pain sharp and sudden, his heart screaming and his lungs seizing. There’s wind whistling in his ears. Everything has narrowed to dead and seven fucking minutes and the smell of ozone in his nose.

“Shit,” Eddie mutters, and then he’s unclipping his seatbelt and throwing open the car door.

Wait— Buck wants to say, another surge of panic sweeping through him, but then Eddie is circling the front of the truck and pulling open his door as well.

“You’re fine,” he says, stumbling through the words like he’s trying to reassure both of them. “Deep breaths, Buck, come on.”

Fingers around his wrist again, hand on Eddie’s chest. It turns Buck towards him, sitting sideways in the seat with one leg almost on the ground, Eddie pressed in close while he coaches him to breathe. Inhale, hold for one, for two, for three, and exhale. Easier this time, but that might just be because Buck’s lungs are too tired to keep up the panic. He feels greyed out and rubbery by the time his breathing is evening out, exhaustion rushing in where the panic drains away. He sags, forward instead of back, and Eddie catches him in a hug before he can slide right out of the car.

“I’ve got you,” he says, almost a whisper, the words muffled against Buck’s hair.

Buck lifts his arms just enough to wrap them around Eddie’s back and return the hug, and then he’s just—done. Can’t fight it anymore. Doesn’t even know what it is he’s supposed to be fighting. All he can do is hold on and hope that Eddie doesn’t let go. He doesn’t even realise he’s crying until Eddie is pushing him gently back and wiping the tears away.

“I’m gonna take you home,” he says. And when Buck makes a half-formed sound of protest, he adds, “My place. I’ll tell Maddie you’re not up for lunch.”

“No,” Buck tries, and god, is that his voice?

“Sorry,” Eddie apologises, and Buck knows it means you can’t get out of telling your sister about this. Probably also I’ll be calling Bobby too.

He wants to fight it. Wants to insist that he’s fine—that he will be fine—but.

But.

Buck gives in. Lets himself be driven home—to Eddie’s house—and shuffled from front door to shower to couch. He’s starting to hurt, even though he doesn’t feel like he’s done anything that should make him hurt, but that’s pretty much situation normal these days. He doesn’t say anything about it, but Eddie knows him well so he doesn’t really have to.

“Here,” he offers, holding out Tylenol, then water. “Do you want tea?”

“I want coffee,” Buck grumbles, swallowing the painkillers. A headache is setting in and it shows no sign of letting go easily.

Eddie shakes his head, more fond than exasperated. “When the doctor clears you for coffee, I’ll be the first to buy you a cup. Is that no to tea?”

Buck shrugs, hunching down in his corner of the couch. “Tea is fine.”

He closes his eyes, then opens them again a moment later because Eddie hasn’t moved. He’s still perched on the coffee table, worrying at his lip while he watches Buck.

“What?” Buck asks, rubbing self-consciously at his birthmark

A slight head shake: nothing. Eddie stands up, takes half a step towards the kitchen, then turns back.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he says, and Buck feels the words in his chest, lodging somewhere around his heart. An affirmation. A promise. A fuck you to the universe and whatever it wants to throw at them next.

“Yeah,” he agrees, offering Eddie a smile. “‘We’re gonna be okay.”

And when he’s alone—when he’s lying back on the couch with the muted sound of the boiling kettle like a shell held up to his ear, the ocean rushing through him—Buck takes a deep breath—and another and another—and finds that he believes it. Not today, not tomorrow, but one day—whenever one day comes—they’re gonna be okay.

[fiddleturnips]

Bonding

This is an excerpt from a larger, incomplete chapter.

Stanley slammed the door on his way out. He didn't really have anywhere else to go, though, so he didn't go anywhere. He sat on the porch and smoked, staring at these unfamiliar Northwest mountains and thinking about how stupid it was that this dumb argument had apparently lasted decades.

Stan was on his second cigarette when Fiddleford came out. Stan didn't turn around, but he could tell it was him. His steps were trying to be heavy, but he probably weighed half what any Pines did including their Ma, and was barefoot besides. He stomped unmenacingly over and sat on the stair beside Stan.

"Can I bum one of those," he said. He was glaring out at the woods like he wanted to punch the whole mountain range in it's big stupid face.

Stan tapped one out and passed it. He shared his flame. Fiddleford took a huge drag that doubled the volume of his chest and hissed it out.

"Trouble in Paradise?" Stan joked.

"Thought I'd finally talked some sense into that man," Fiddleford snapped. "Always gotta be the smartest in the room, with his twelve cotton-pickin doctorates and his one man research grant, don't he get you can't solve everything with just smarts."

Stan suddenly decided he liked this guy. "Yeah. Yeah, it's always, oOooh, if I'm the biggest genius they ever saw then they have to crown me the king of fucking France or whatever. Everything that goes right, it's 'cause he was just better. Anything goes wrong was a fluke. Like, geeze, man, maybe if your entire future rested in a seventeen year old's ability to break the laws of physics it's the system that's the problem, y'know?"

"EXACTLY!" Fiddleford flung his arms out. It almost hit Stan in the face. "He did good in school, and I'm real happy for him, I really am! But it's like, we were in the same classes, and goshdurn it, I was better than him! So what's this magical force what makes him think everyone who didn't get where he did just didn't try hard enough?"

Fiddleford was starting to lose him now, but Stan got the impression the guy needed to vent from how loud it was coming out, so he didn't say anything.

"I tried, Doctor Stanford Pines, I tried till it almost killed me, and then I help you try til that almost kills me too! Maybe your dreams ain't worth all that!"

"Oh, yeah. And, like, maybe your dreams ain't everyone else's dream, too," Stanley said. It probably wasn't a fair thought, but it was one that came on him all the time in motels and WalMart parking lots: what the hell were dreams worth, if you went one way and he went the other and neither of you ever got to see each other again?

Fiddleford glanced over and huffed a smokey laugh. "Truth. Not sure how many daddies and doctor types need to hear that." Fiddleford wrinkled his nose. "Ack, forgot how foul these are."

"Then why'd you bum one?"

"Hoping to trick myself into thinking it was something stronger, I guess," he said, scraping out the lit end on the porch and leaving it in case Stan wanted the other half.

Stan side-eyed him. "You payin'?"

Fiddleford looked over at him in surprise. Then down.

Stan was peeking a baggie out of his inner coat pocket. It wasn't much, maybe half an ounce, and it was cheap shit. But hey. A sale's a sale.

Fiddleford didn't even ask. He just pulled a fifty, threw it at Stan, and snatched the bag. Stan passed him a box of rolling paper, and Fiddleford rolled first one, than a second, out with astonishing dexterity.

"Shit, you know your stuff."

"I had a social life in school."

He offered one to Stan, who lit them both up. Fiddleford lay back on the porch and sighed deeply.

"So. What's the story here?" Stan asked.

"Oh, Stanford's my best friend," Fiddleford said. "And as much as I hate to say it, your brother really is all that. Not only the biggest genius I ever met, but one of the best academics to boot. Brains alone don't get degrees."

"And now, uh, what's going on?"

"Oh, right. Sorry, we've been awful." Fiddleford sat up and occipied his hands by making more joints, resting his own on the stair between tokes. "Doctor Pines is here on grant money he got after groundbreaking solo research and a very impressive proof of concept at a conference a few years back. Now, I don't suppose you'd know much about academic politics, Mister Pines, but that is what we call a very big deal, especially when you look at what they gave him. And if I'm being completely frank, it's not primarily the work that's good. The man could convince the board to dig a canal in Arizona."

"What? Sixer?" Stanley laughed. He noticed, but didn't quite register Fiddleford's flinch at the name. "Guy never took a date to a school dance in his life."

"Maybe he ought've asked more funding admins."

Stanley chuckled. The weed was definitely helping.

"Anyhow, part of what he was doing here was building this big -" Fiddleford sucked from his joint, gestured lamely, lost his words - "I don't know how to describe it in plain speak. It's a doohickey."

"A doohicky."

"Portal, let's say. Real spaceman bullhockey. Let's just say, me'n him are close on the only ones as could do it, this stuff is mathematically on the edge of impossible."

"You an him, huh?"

"Oh, alright," Fiddleford said, grinning, rolling out the last of his little arts and crafts project. "Me. I'm the only one could build it. I weren't lying when I said I'm better'n him."

Stan coughed laughing. "Got a big head on your shoulders?"

"Hardly. I'm an engineer. Not an academic."

"Yeah, yeah. Smart guys. Look, I'm just a schlub."

Fiddleford's face fell. "Sorry, I don't mean that- oh, shucks, my wife always warned me I gotta watch what I say about that sort of thing. I didn't mean nothing by it. Having brains don't measure a man's worth, I know that more'n most."

"Aw, it's nothing," Stan said, made big-hearted and quick to forgive by the drugs. "You're good in my book."

Fiddleford was out of weed. He tucked what he'd made back into the bag and sealed it. When he gazed out at the woods this time, his anger had softened to irritation. "Anyway, I come out here to help him with his work. And believe me, it's good. He's got a one-of-a-kind opportunity here. But Stanford Pines is one of those Victorian types says discovery is all about taking risks, and let's just say when he takes risks I always seem to be the one who ends up with something broke."

"Aw man. I'm sorry. Seriously."

"First there was the Grenloblin, which is a horrid creature, by the way, then that cat-tannin' shapeshifter he kept as a pet even when it began to talk to us-"

"Wait, what?"

"And the gnome debacle keeps coming back to bite us, can't keep the windows sealed tight enough,"

"Gnomes?"

"And then that FUCKING demon."

Fiddleford abruptly stopped talking. He took another toke. His free hand was clenched into a shaking fist. Stan stared.

"What do you guys research, exactly?"

"Anomalies," said Fiddleford.

"Like, what, two-headed calves and shit?"

"That'd work. But Gravity Falls has gnomes."

"Little men in red hats."

"Little men in red hats."

"You're shitting me."

"I swear to you I am not."

"Don't suppose the bud went bad..."

"You'll see in the morning. I'll show you."

"You just described a bunch of dangerous shit. And also gnomes, I guess. Do I want to see it all?"

"Believe me, the most 'dangerous shit' is in this house."

Stanley, being an idiot but not that much of an idiot, was about to press him further. They were interrupted by the door, though, and his dumb brother's disapproval.

"Are you two smoking cannabis?" Ford demanded. Stanley chuckled at how much he sounded like a pearl-clutching old woman.

"Yes we are, and you're partaking," Fiddleford said, pulling out a joint. "We're making up for lost time, come on."

Stanford glared daggers. "I am not."

Fiddleford fell back on the porch, stretched his legs out in front of him, and stared upside-down up at Stanford.

"You owe meeeeeeee."

Stanford kept glaring. Then he glared at Stanley, who shrugged.

"Did you bring this?" Ford snapped.

"Technically, but I didn't offer. He asked."

Fiddleford wiggled the outstretched joint.

Stanley had no idea the look on Stanford's face was, aside from uncomfortable, but the guy relented. He stepped forward, sat as far as he could from the other two, and gingerly picked up the joint. Stan tossed him the lighter, knowing very well that he wouldn't have his own. The other boys laughed at him when he struggled to get it lit right.

"Don't worry, Doctor Pines, I'm here for you," said Fiddleford in a fond, dreamy voice.

"Very reassuring, thank you," Stanford growled.

It was endearing. It was, hell, it was cute. Despite the blow-up inside, Stan was kind of... glad? that Stanford had apparently made an actual, honest-to-god friend.

[jxtina-86]

We'll Be Okay

So many decisions, so little time. I thought I had my mind made up, but now I'm not so sure. RomanReigns/Alexia. See here for the rest of the series/order to read.

Warning: Language/Hints of smut

Rating: MA

Italics = flashback

I flick through a magazine, barely noticing the photos or articles as they all blur into one. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, I realise I've still got another ten minutes till my appointment. Ten more painfully slow minutes.

Fumbling in my bag, I tug out my phone and stare at the time again, as if the clock on the wall is lying to me. It isn't. Unlocking it, I head straight for my messages even though I know there are none. The same goes for missed calls and emails. I chew my lip, dropping the phone back into my purse before crossing my arms over my now obviously swollen belly.

A small smile tugs at my lips as I stare down at the round bump protruding from my lower half. My shirt is snug, a reminder that I need to start purchasing some proper maternity clothes before I start to bust the buttons in my shirts and pants. My weekends are currently spent in stretchy pants and one of Roman's shirts, the cuffs rolled up to my elbows as I spend a few hours running errands and the rest of the time sparked out on the couch, exhaustion now a consistent factor in my life.

But I wouldn't change it for the world. No way. My hand sneaks down, resting on my bump as I re-call the shiny-eyed smile that broke across Roman's face when I told him. I could relive that memory a thousand times and not get bored. In fact, I do relive it, every time he comes home or wakes up next to me or just walks from the kitchen to the lounge to find me. That smile is a permanent fixture and every time I see it, my heart threatens to burst with love.

Love for him.

Love for Pumpkin.

When I found out, I was in shock. Mainly because I didn't want to believe it after what had happened before. I couldn't put myself or Roman through that again. I was so cautious, refusing to believe the test until Dr Ash confirmed it herself. Telling Roman made it all so real. Before that point, it still felt like a figment of my imagination. And to be honest, even when I watched him caress my stomach and we joked about a nickname for my then non-existent bump, it still felt too good to be true.

The first scan changed all of that. I can remember how tightly his hand squeezed mine as my breath caught in my throat as the sound of our baby's heart echoed out of the speakers. And there, on the screen, the fuzzy outline of what we'd made. There was no denying it anymore, no need to think that one day I would wake up and find out it was all a dream. I remember looking over at Roman, my eyes stinging as I saw the unshed tears in his eyes, his hand still tight around mine as he drew a shaky breath and the doctor made her excuses to give us a moment.

“You okay?” I murmur as the door clicks shut, my eyes still on him as I watch him stare, transfixed.

“Yeah.” His voice is soft, barely a whisper.

I squeeze his hand and his gaze drops down, to stare at our intertwined fingers. And then glistening dark brown orbs meet mine and I'm tugging him towards me, my fingers releasing his so I can raise both hands to brush away the tears that start to slide down his cheeks.

“Hey,” I choke, my own emotions taking hold. “This is supposed to be a happy moment.” I try to grin, but my own tears are now spilling free.

“Then why are you crying?” he shoots back as he cups my face and presses his forehead against mine.

“Because I'm happy.”

“And so am I,” he tells me, his lips brushing over mine again and again. “Thank you.”

I stroke the back of his neck, my face twisting from his to stare back at the frozen image on the screen.

“Thank you,” I breathe, but I'm not sure who I'm thanking. Roman for giving me Pumpkin, or Pumpkin for giving us something we never realised we wanted so much. Maybe both, who knows. All I know is that I am beyond grateful for this moment and for all future moments to come.

We took multiple copies of the scan photo, one for each set of parents and family and two for ourselves. Mine is carefully placed in the folds of my diary, the white edge always peeking at me, begging to be looked at every time I pull the book from my purse and every time I give in, a jolt of excitement passing through me as I run my finger over the image.

Roman's is wedged into his wallet and I couldn't help but grin when I caught sight of it one day and noted how worn the edges were, how the white had started to lose its colour. My heart swelled at the thought of him tugging it loose and staring at the image of his child in countless cars, airports, arenas and hotels.

So I decided to add to that one image. A selfie of Pumpkin and I each week, my face pulled into variety of comical expressions as I clutch my forever growing belly. I started to snap them on a Monday night, something for him to find on his phone after RAW, along with a little note about how proud we both are of him and more recently, about the small fluttering sensation I've been feeling in my stomach when his voice echoes through the TV.

He called me the first time I mentioned the latter. I could hear the raw emotion in his voice as he asked me to tell him exactly what happened and then there was a short gasp of silence and I heard him sniff and all I wanted to do was reach out through the phone and pull him back to me, close to me. I wonder sometimes if I'm doing the right thing, if telling him all of these things and sending him photos is doing more harm than good. All I want is for him to feel like he's right here with me, living every moment of this incredible journey we're both on. But at the same time, I realise how difficult it must be for him to watch from afar. And this is only the beginning and I worry, fuck, I worry so damn much about what it'll be like when Pumpkin is born and the changes in development will be coming thick and fast and Roman will miss most of them.

It's something that I've been meaning to talk to him for a while now, but I can never seem to find the right time. When he's home, we're too preoccupied in catching up with each other, rather than delving into anything too deep and scary such as how he'll rarely be home to see his son or daughter grow up. But I know it's a conversation we need to have. He's promised me a thousand times that nothing will change between us, but what we have is something that we have worked at tirelessly for years now; I have no doubt about our strength as a couple. Yet it doesn't stop the nagging fear about the strength of the bond between him and our baby. There is no doubt in my mind that Roman will be the best father any child could ask for, but I'm terrified that the long periods away from home will somehow have an adverse affect on him or her, that Roman will become some secondary figure in their life. And that is the last thing I want to happen.

I want our baby to know that their father loves them so fucking much, that they are the best thing that could ever happen in his life, that his life is complete now that they are in it. I want our baby to know how hard their father works to make sure they never go without, that he's fortunate enough to do something he loves in order to support all three of us. I want our baby to be as proud of Roman as I am, to know he does everything in his power to make sure we're happy, even if he's on the other side of the country.

Something bumps against my leg and I blink to see a blonde-haired boy staring up at me. His eyes are a piercing blue, a curious look playing on his face as he studies my own features before his gaze drops down to my belly. With a tentative hand, he reaches out and pats my bump and I can't help but let out a giggle as he frowns.

“Nathan!”

I glance up to see a heavily pregnant woman approaching.

“What did I tell you about running off like that?” she scolds, reaching for his hand. “I'm so sorry,” she tells me with an apologetic smile. “His little sister has been kicking up a storm recently when he touches my bump, but he can't understand why the same doesn't happen when he touches strangers bumps.”

She turns to Nathan, whose face is still scrunched up in confusion. “What did we talk about, huh? You can't go touching other ladies bellies, it's not polite, is it? And your sister is in here,” she points at her own incredible bump. “Nowhere else, right?”

She takes a seat opposite me, heaving Nathan up onto the chair next to her. Her eyes flicker down to my bump. “How far along are you?”

“22 weeks,” I reply with a smile.

“Your first?”

I nod.

“Boy or girl?” she asks and then she grins. “Or are you here to find out?”

“Perhaps. I'm not sure.” I rub my hand over my bump.

“What about your husband?”

“He's not sure either,” I chuckle and she smiles widely in response.

“Isn't he here?”

“He travels a lot. I had to cancel my last appointment as he got called away at short notice.” I have no idea why I'm spilling all this detail to a stranger in a waiting room, but it feels good to talk to someone who doesn't know mine and Roman's situation. “But his flight today has been delayed, so I'm not sure if he'll make it in time.”

She smiles sympathetically. “Mine missed the birth of this one,” she reaches out and ruffles Nathan's hair. “By minutes too. He was stuck in traffic and crashed through the door just as they were cleaning him up.”

“How far along are you with your second?” I ask as Nathan's hand creeps onto his mother's stomach. She grins down at him and I watch incredulously as her belly moves, her baby jolting into action.

“37 weeks. Weekly check-up time.”

I'm about to respond, when my name is called out.

“That's me,” I say as I get to my feet and grab my purse. “Good luck with the next few weeks,” I tell her, smiling at Nathan.

“Thank you. You too.” Her eyes flicker to behind me. “Is that your husband?”

My head instantly whips around, my heart pounding as my mind fights to keep my cool, to not believe it until I see him with my own eyes. But there he is, towering in the doorway as he waits for a young couple to exit. He flashes them his trademark smile before manoeuvring himself and his bags through the door. Casting his gaze around the room, his face breaks into a far more genuine smile when he spots me.

“Damn, your baby's gonna be super cute,” my new acquaitance pipes up.

I glance back at her with a shy grin. “Thanks.”

She winks at me with a knowing smile, her eyes darting to behind me and I look around to see he's in arms length. It takes all the strength I have not to fling myself at him. It's been a shorter stint apart than usual, but it doesn't change how much I miss being curled up in those arms of his.

“Alexia Reigns?” The nurse is calling again.

“Just in time,” I tell Roman as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close, his lips instantly finding my forehead.

“Baby girl,” he breathes. “I'm so sorry.”

“What for?” I smile up at him as we pick our way towards where the waiting nurse stands, ready to show us the way to the consulting room. “Like I said, you're just in time.”

“I know. The taxi queue was insane at the airport and then the traffic...”

I reach up and squeeze his hand that rests on my shoulder.

“And I just wanted to be here to wait with you. We didn't get a chance to–” he starts, but the nurse soon interrupts me to tell me to get comfortable on the examination table and to roll up my shirt ready for the scan.

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she tells us with a brief smile before leaving us alone.

Roman takes my purse, placing it on top his bags as I ease myself onto the table and start to unbutton the bottom of my shirt.

“How you feeling?” His fingers brush against my arm.

“Good. Although I don't think you're gonna appreciate my new sleeping position.”

He chuckles. “You hogging all the pillows now?”

I nod. “One under the bump, one between my legs, one against my chest and the usual two under my head. I mean, I tried that one your mom got me, but it honestly just wasn't as comfortable.”

Cool air hits my skin as I ease up the tank top under my shirt, before fumbling with the waistband of my pants, pushing them down to rest just under my bump. I smile as Roman's hand carefully caresses the exposed skin, watching how his face seems to shift into an expression that only appears when his attention is purely devoted to Pumpkin. The first time I saw this look in his eye, of pure unconditional love, I knew that this worth all the agony and waiting. I never quite realised how different a love for a baby could be. I love Roman with all my heart and I would do anything for him, but that's a love that we've worked for and nurtured for years now. We haven't even met our baby and yet, we are already both head over heels in love and that love is only going to become stronger as time goes on.

“Lex,” he murmurs, his eyes flickering back up to meet mine. “I was thinking... Does it matter if we find out now or in a few months time?”

It's the question we've been asking ourselves since the beginning. Do we want to know or not? Does it matter if we're having a boy or a girl? Whilst we joke about the supposed benefits of each sex, when it comes down to it, we'd be happy, more than happy, either way. But we've both admitted the overwhelming urge to find out now, to be able to announce it to our families and friends, to help us make decisions on nursery colours and to buy toys and clothes in preparation for his or her arrival, along with the most important decision of all – a name.

For a while, I've secretly wondered if Roman wanted to know so he could prepare himself for how he should be as a father. A boy would naturally instigated a passing on of not only a family name, but of responsibility when he was older, becoming the man of the house so to speak in Roman's absence. Yet a girl would call for a more protective stance and I wondered if that's what he wanted to prepare for, the thought of leaving his girls every week and a fear that a girl would align herself with me more, creating that snag in the bond between him and her.

He has never vocalised these concerns, but the questioning look in his eye does little to ease my own worry. 

“It's up to you,” I tell him softly, my hand reaching for his. “I don't mind if we find out now or later.”

“No way,” he says with a wry smile. “You can't put this all on me.”

“I honestly don't mind.”

He narrows his eyes as he studies my face. “Yes, you do.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. I don't want to know. I'm quite looking forward to finding out when Pumpkin finally arrives and the doctor announces the sex. I want that to spur me on in those painful moments that I have to do this, because not only am I going to meet my baby, but I'm going to find out if I've been given a boy or a girl.”

“But you said yourself it would make loads of decision a lot easier to make if we found out today.”

“Sure, but then I saw this cute idea online of a yellow and grey nursery...”

Roman chuckles, his hand pulling mine up to his lips. “And names?”

“It's not like we're any closer to choosing any for either sex. I think finding out would make it a lot harder.”

His mouth opens to respond, but the door is suddenly pushed open and Dr Ash enters with my file in hand.

“Alexia, good to see you again. And Roman, I see you made it in time,” she greets, reaching out to shake our hands.

“Just about,” Roman grins in response.

“Good...” she takes a seat next to the table, switching on the sonogram machine. “So, Alexia, are you still having trouble sleeping?”

“It's getting better,” I tell her. “Still a little uncomfortable, but I'm working on it.”

“Good... And the nausea has completely gone now?”

“Yes, at last.”

“Any changes since I last saw you, aside from the obvious?” She smile as she nods at my bump.

Roman almost manages to muffle his snort of laughter and I scowl. “My hormones are a bit up and down.”

“Understatement of the year,” he mutters under his breath and I squeeze his hand hard in response.

Dr Ash nods. “That's completely normal, Alexia. Your body is changing in more ways than one, it's natural for your emotions to change as well. And I'm afraid it's probably going to continue this way right up until the birth.”

“Great...” I mumble. “So completely natural to go from crying to horny in a matter of minutes.”

Dr Ash raises her eyes to meet mine, with a small smile. “Sounds strange, but yes.” She makes a note in the file and then reaches for a bottle of ultrasound gel. “I apologise if this is a bit cold.”

She squirts the gel onto my stomach, the coolness making me flinch slightly.

“So, I'll take some measurements, make sure growth is on track and check the heartbeat. Now, depending on position, I might also be able to tell you if you're having a boy or girl.”

“Yeah, about that...” I glance up at Roman.

The doctor pauses. “Is this something you're yet to discuss?”

“No, we've discussed it,” Roman starts.

“Many times,” I chime in. “We're in two minds.”

“It's not a problem. Lots of couples find it hard to decide.” She smiles as she adjusts the monitor, moving closer to place the scanner on my stomach. “I can always make a note of it and if you want to find out later, you can give me a call?”

Roman catches my eye. “Lex?”

“I guess...”

“I once wrote it down and sealed it in an envelope for one couple who weren't sure either,” she comments as she studies the screen. “They eventually decided to find out, but gave it to a cake-maker and told them to make an iced cake with either blue or pink sponge inside.”

I'm about to respond when I see a familiar blurry outline appear on screen. My breath instantly catches in my throat, just as it did the first time I saw this very same image. Only this time, it's bigger, more defined than 10 weeks ago. The outline is more distinctive, more recognisable as a baby. Roman's hand squeezes mine again as the doctor makes more notes in my file.

“Baby looks good, growth is on track. Heartbeat is normal too, so progress is as expected.” She turns back to us. “So, I have to have a closer look and this is the point where it's going to be obvious if you are having a boy or girl. If you're still unsure, I suggest averting your eyes for the next few minutes.”

I look up at Roman. “Hey, no peeking. We either find out together or we both wait, right?”

“Right.” He tears his eyes away from the screen and looks down at me, his gaze steady. “So grey and yellow, huh?”

I smile. “I picked out a cot and some other furniture too. Although I don't know how much of it I can put together-”

“Don't even suggest it,” he frowns. “I'll do it.”

I raise an eyebrow. “First off, when? And secondly, I remember very clearly the fiasco when it came to putting together our wardrobes.”

“That was all Dean and Seth.”

“They did a far better job than you did,” I remind him.

“I was distracted,” he winks and I feel my cheeks flushing, my skin prickling with heat as his eyes glow at the memory. Fucking hormones.

“Excuses, excuses,” I manage to muster up, desperate to look away but I can't. If I look away, I'll see the screen, but if I hold his gaze, I'll give myself away. Although judging by the smirk that's gracing his lips, I already have.

He leans down until his mouth is next to my ear, his voice a low whisper. “Nah, baby girl. Just the truth. And you still know damn well that was your intention all along.”

“I ain't that kinda girl,” I murmur haughtily, my eyes flickering closed as I feel his breath on my earlobe.

He chuckles as he stands tall again, his fingers gently pushing back a strand of hair. I watch as his tongue wets his lips.

“Right, all done.”

My eyes flicker back to the doctor and the screen, my heart sinking as I note the blank screen.

“I'm pleased to say that your baby is looking very healthy indeed. No need for any additional check-ups, but when we see you next time, we can re-assess if anything changes. And of course, if you notice any changes that don't seem to be in line with what we have already discussed, please let me know.” Dr Ash closes the file and hands me a tissue to wipe the leftover gel from my belly. “Any questions?”

I shake my head as I roll the waistband of my pants back up and start to move my tank top and shirt back into place.

“You said you could write it, the sex I mean, down for us,” Roman blurts out. “In an envelope?”

Dr Ash gives me a brief look. “Alexia?”

“I...” I look up at Roman.

“We don't have to decide right now whether to open it or not. I just want to know that if we decide to find out, we can find out right then and there, rather than waiting to make a call.” He holds out his hand to me as I ease myself down from the table. “I'm not gonna find out without you wanting too as well. I just think we need to talk about it more and having the envelope with us there and then, well it means we can do it before we change our minds again.”

I bite my lip. The thought is tempting, the small and ever so fickle part of my brain is softly nudging my more rational headspace, willing it to accept the envelope, promising to listen to all arguments for and against finding out.

“Lex, I'm not going to pressure you into finding out if you don't want to. I'll accept if that's what you want to do, I promise.”

I turn my gaze back to Dr Ash. “Can you write it down, please?”

She smiles. “Of course.” She reaches behind her for a notepad, rustling through a desk drawer for an envelope.

“Thank you,” Roman murmurs, his arm wrapping around me.

And strangely, it's not only his hand that's shaking when he reaches for the sealed envelope a second or so later. Mine is trembling too.

**

“You said you wanted to talk,” I mumble against Roman's chest as we curl against each other on the couch.

His hand trails down my back, lazy and soft. “We've got plenty of time for that, baby girl. No rush, remember? We can find out whenever we want.”

The envelope is propped up on the mantlepiece, 'Baby Reigns' scrawled across the front, a constant reminder of what we could be minutes, seconds even, away from finding out should the mood take us. It's been almost 24 hours since we left the doctor's and we are yet to have a proper conversation about the possibilities that lie before us. My eyes have been constantly drawn towards the envelope, but every time, I force myself to look away, to remember what I so adamantly stated yesterday. I want the surprise. I want the unknown.

My eyes haven't been the only ones that have been playing an endless game of cat and mouse with said envelope. I've noticed Roman's eyes linger on the mantlepiece more than once and each time, I held my breath, waiting for him to commence his opening statement as to why we should tear it open and see what lies inside. But he's said nothing, not a word. Not even when we were lying in bed last night, his fingers drawing endless circles across my belly as he nuzzled into my neck. Not even this morning as he wrapped his arms around me whilst I waited for the kettle to boil or when he joined me in the shower for a few brief moments, his kiss long and sultry, almost convincing me to call in sick just so we could finish what we started.

“You're back on the road tomorrow,” I point out softly. “And you know that we'll never get a chance to talk for long enough about this until you get back.”

“I thought you had your mind made up?”

“I do. But that doesn't mean that I'm not willing to hear you out. We have to decide together, right?”

“Right,” he agrees, his hand slides over my shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. “My previous point still stands though. What difference does it make if we find out now or later? It's still going to be either a boy or a girl, no matter when we find out.”

“Not true,” I look up at him. “What if Dr Ash got it wrong?”

“What the are the chances of that happening?”

“Not likely, but it can happen. What if the envelope reveals it's a girl, but it turns out that our son was just feeling shy yesterday? Or if it says it's a boy, but it just so happened our daughter's hand was scratching an itch?”

“We don't have to tell anyone else, Lex. It can just stay between us if you want.” His fingers brush against my cheek. “And we can still pick out names for both, just in case, still decorate the nursery in neutral colours if that's what you want. Nothing has to change.”

“But it will. Pumpkin will become a he or a she. I kind of like that I could be speaking to either.”

He chuckles. “You speak to Pumpkin?”

I blush. “Yeah... The pregnancy books suggested it.”

“What do you talk about?”

I shake my head. “I see what you're doing, you're changing the subject.”

He chuckles, ducking his head down to brush his lips across my forehead. “Never. I'm interested.”

Glancing down at my bump, I smile softly. “I talk about you.”

“Lex...”

“I talk about how much their Daddy loves his work, how he has to be away a lot but that doesn't mean he doesn't love them any less. I talk about how much he already cares for them, how he can't wait to meet them.” I raise my head again, my voice threatening to crack when I catch Roman's eye. “I talk about how proud I am of you, how much I love you, how much you love me too, how happy you make me, Ro.”

I reach up to stroke his cheek, cupping his face and pulling him down to me. Our lips brush against each other, tentatively at first, tender kisses ensuing until he wraps his arms around me and holds me to him, sucking firmly on my bottom lip before delving back for more. I gasp for breath as he lets me go for a second, only to moan into his mouth as he tugs me back for more, fingers in my hair, anchoring me to him. Not that I want to move away. No way. I want to stay here forever as he shows me how much he loves me in the way he holds and caresses me. There's no need for words, only actions, only the warmth of his mouth and the strength of his soul.

“Lex,” he breathes as he pulls back. “You're the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I don't want to spoil that by doing something stupid.”

I shake my head. “You would never–”

“But I am,” he continues, cutting me off. “I'm being selfish. I should be thinking like you, about how exciting it will be to not only meet our baby but to find out then and there if it's a boy or a girl.”

“Ro... You're not being selfish. You could argue that I'm the selfish one for not wanting to know.” I close my eyes and pray that I'm not about to realise my worst fears. “Why do you want to know? Tell me. Please.”

“I...” he stammers, falling into a brief silence before my heart starts to sink. “I want to know how to feel.”

I look up and fuck... His face is full of trepidation, his eyes aglow with something that looks like... Fear.

“You know I love you and you know I love Pumpkin,” he places a large hand over mine on my belly. “I'd do anything for either of you, I swear. But at the same time, I haven't got a fucking clue what I'm doing.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, but I think I already know the answer. 

“Lex, I have no idea if I'm the right person to be a father.”

Even though my worst suspicions have just been confirmed, it doesn't stop his words from stunning me.

“I've seen first hand what this industry does to families, it can tear them apart. It means that I'm going to end up spending more time away from my family, from you, from Pumpkin than I will here with the both of you. How the hell am I supposed to be a father when I'm never here?” He draws a shaky breath. “What if by not being here, our baby grows up resenting that? Resenting me...”

He trails off and I stumble over myself to correct him.

“That's never going to happen,” I tell him firmly. “We both know that you do what you do to provide us, to make sure we never go without, to ensure that we will always have a roof over our heads. Those are things that already make you a great dad, Ro. No child of yours is ever going to resent you for providing for them.”

“I spent a good few years as a teenager mad at my dad,” he murmurs, his hand still on my bump, his eyes down and avoiding my gaze. “He was never around when I needed him. My mom had to play both roles in my life and it was tough. I used to hate how he'd just come back after being on the road and expect everything to fall back into place, as if it was as simple as that. I watched my mom work to keep us all in check and for a while, it felt like he did nothing to contribute to that.”

“That's only natural,” I comfort. “You were a kid, you only saw one side of things. And you appreciate what your dad did for all of you now.”

“Of course. But I didn't see it then. It took me a long time to see it that way and sometimes I look back and realise that perhaps the only reason I changed my view on his decisions was because I'm where I am now. When I started on the road, I realised what he was putting himself through to provide for us.” He pauses. “What if our son never sees it like that?”

“And what about our daughter?” I challenge. “You don't think she'll see it like that? My mom raised me and my brother single-handedly. I sure as hell had a whole arson full of resentment for my dad.”

He frowns. “That's not what I mean.”

“I know,” I soften. “I do, honestly, Ro. But what I'm trying to say that if that's your reason for wanting to find out, I don't think those feelings are exclusive to just boys.”

“I just want to know how I'm supposed to react.”

I cup his cheek, my fingers brushing against his temple. “I'm scared too. I can read all the books I like, but nothing is going to prepare me for when they hand me our baby for the first time. I have no idea how I'm going to feel then. I hope I feel the same love I feel right now, but who knows? I'm petrified that I'm in love with an idea of what it's going to be like, rather than the reality. I'm terrified that I'm going to be a bad mother, that I'm going to do everything that I'm not supposed to.” I shift further up on the couch so that I can press my forehead against his. “You're not alone in this, Ro. I'm right there with you.”

“You make it look so easy,” he tells me. “You're a natural at this, Lex. Some days I still can't get my head around the fact that you're pregnant, yet you take it all in your stride.”

“I cried when I first realised my bump was visible,” I confess and his eyes widen. “It all felt too real and I didn't know how to handle it.”

“Baby girl...”

“And then,” I continue with a smile. “You came home a few days later and you were in such awe of it, touching it, kissing it. All the anxiety and insecurities that I was feeling just vanished in an instant. You made me feel proud of how my body was changing, excited for all the changes to come.”

His lips brush against mine briefly.

“You make me realise I can do this, Ro. You make me stronger by doing and saying things that make me feel a thousand times better, no matter what baby-related, fear-inducing moment or thought I've just had. And I want to do the same for you. I want to make you realise that you can do this too.” I pause. “Because I can't do this without you. I really can't. And that doesn't mean you always being in the same city or even the same house as me. You do plenty to make me feel like I'm not alone when you're on the road. And I just need to know that's not going to change.”

“Never, I promise.” He holds my gaze steadily, his thumb stroking my cheek gently before he cups the back of my head. “I got you, you got me.”

“Exactly,” I smile. “And I totally got you, Ro. Boy or girl, you can do this. I know you'll love whatever we have, I know you'll always do what's right for our family, whether you're here or in a city on the other side of the country, because that's what you've always done for me and I know that's what you'll do for Pumpkin.”

I rest my hand over his and then we both freeze.

“Was that...?” Roman starts, trailing off as there's another, barely there kick.

“Yes,” I giggle.

“Have you ever felt that before?”

“No,” I whisper, staring down at our hands before raising my eyes to meet his.

“Shit,” Roman murmurs. “That felt–”

“Weird,” I grin. “That was definitely not a flutter like I've felt before.”

We're both quiet for a few minutes, our hands still on my bump waiting for more, but it seems that the show is over.

“Looks like that was reserved just for you,” I tell him as I slowly start to get off the couch, a yawn taking hold of me as I notice how late it is. I hold out my hand to Roman. “You staying up or coming to bed?”

But he doesn't answer me, instead he captures my hand and tugs me to him, until I'm stood between his legs as he stares up at me. I watch with a small smile as he brings his face closer, his lips brushing against my swollen belly.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his eyes flickering closed as he wraps his arms around my waist and holds me to him. I can feel his lips moving, the soft vibration of his voice, but the words are lost against my shirt.

But I don't need to hear them to know what he's saying. My hand runs over his head, softly tugging at his hair until he raises his eyes to meet mine.

“We'll be okay, Ro. You'll be okay.”

**

Warm breath on my neck stirs me awake, a hand sliding over my hip, fingers teasing my inner thigh. I stretch, my back arching, my ass hitting something hard.

“Lexi...” Roman's voice is thick and gravelly. His hand moves back to my hip, gripping firmly as he holds me in place, slowly grinding his obvious arousal against my backside.

My fingers scrape against the pillow as I bite back a moan, my body awakening at a faster pace than my mind as I press back against him. He growls his approval, his hand slipping back to my thigh, his fingers teasing once again and my head rocks back, my eyes slowly opening.

Deep brown eyes greet me, full of a beautiful combination of sleep and lust. Gone is the timid nature that he used to approach me with in the early days of pregnancy, when he'd fight to handle me like precious china until I begged him to give me what I wanted. Now I don't have to ask, I don't have to plead. My wonderful, handsome, sex-on-fucking-legs husband is back, showing me exactly what he wants right now as he grinds purposefully, a wicked glint in his eye.

His fingers pluck at my panties in frustration and I'm right there with him, wondering why I made such a stupid decision when getting ready for bed last night. Roman, on the other hand, made the wise choice to wear nothing to bed as usual and I can feel the full length of his dick nestling against my ass cheeks, slipping back and forth with every movement. I grunt impatiently as his fingers slide inside the waistband of my panties for a split second and then retreat to tease me through them instead.

“Patience,” he mumbles, ducking down to capture my lips as he rubs his thumb in soft circles across my clit and then dips a finger further south, tracing my entrance through the material. I can already feel my skin prickling with heat as his tongue pushes languidly into my mouth and I greet it with the same ease.

“Please...” I gasp as he release me, his thumb continuing to tease, his fingers still exploring at a slow and steady pace.

He eventually gives in and I help to push my panties down my legs. I reach for him, pulling him back to me, but he shakes his head. Nudging the sheets away, he reaches for the pillows which have cocooned me for most of the night, but now lay strewn across the bed. He tugs one towards us, easing it under my side.

“Comfortable?” he asks, his hand stroking my hair, sending shivers up and down my spine. I nod, desperate to feel him against me again, but grateful for the way that he continues to make sure I'm okay. He smiles as he settles back behind me once again, gently rocking me so that my belly rests against the pillow, allowing me to move my upper leg higher on the bed.

Mornings have always been my time and pregnancy has just added to that. Even when he's not here, I wake up horny as hell, my mind having to do all the work to transport Roman back to our bed, whilst my fingers touch and tease until I'm screaming his name into my pillow. But today, I don't need to imagine.

He pushes my hair up, blowing warm air on the back of my neck as his fingers run from the top of my spine to the bottom, over as my ass and back between my legs. I hum in approval as one finger slides against my entrance and his corresponding groan tells me everything I need to know. I can feel it too, an intense warmth slowly brewing in the pit of my stomach, my thighs starting to ache as he swipes his finger back and forth. 

“Damn, baby girl... You get wetter every time...”

His words make me swallow hard, my head starting to spin as his finger dips inside me for a brief second.

“Ro...”

“That's it, Lexi... Fuck...”

His finger lingers this time, curling inside me until I cry out and he chuckles in satisfaction.

“More?” he questions with a groan and I nod jerkily as his thumb circles my clit. “Slow? Hard? Tell me, Lexi. Tell me what you want.”

“You,” I gasp. “Slow...”

He nuzzles my neck, my head rocking back again so he can kiss me again, swallowing my inevitable moan as his finger pushes back inside me and he starts to side in and out at a glacial pace. I can hear how wet I am, the sounds of my slick pussy filling the room along with my muffled moans and gasps for breath.

His other arm curls around me, his hand seeking out a breast, cupping it softly at first. His thumb takes a gentle swipe at my nipple and I flinch at how sensitive they've become.

“No,” I groan as he lets go instantly. “Just... Gentle...”

I need him, I need him like I've always needed him. I want to crash and burn in his arms. I want to scream out his name and feel him pull me close, holding me until I can catch my breath and open my eyes again. I want to feel him take my body and conduct it in the way only he knows how. His instincts always set me on fire, his hands, his mind, his whole being knows me inside and out and I never want to lose that.

“More,” I hiss and he obliges, two fingers pushing back inside me and I automatically clench them tightly. He growls, his dick jerking against my ass still and I feel light-headed at how full I'm going to feel when he's buried deep inside me.

“More?” he asks again, his thumb soft and slow on my clit.

I nod, my own hands clutching at his arms, afraid that he's going to drag this out. I can't take it. I can't take the teasing. I can feel my chest tightening, my eyes squeezing shut as I grind down on his fingers, hissing as they slide deeper inside me. My breath comes in short, rapid gasps as he pushes me closer and closer, his mouth at my ear.

“Fuck, Lex... Ride my fingers, baby girl. Squeeze 'em... That's it... Harder...”

I'm unravelling quicker than I ever imagined, my body shutting down, numbness creeping from my toes up my legs, taking hold of my entire being. All I can focus on are his fingers, between my legs, inside me, on my nipple, tugging it gently as I whimper and then howl, my lungs burning with the effort as my orgasm slams into me.

Roman's fingers slip from me and I watch in a daze as he licks them clean with a grin.

“Better every time,” he tells me, kissing me softly and letting me taste myself on his tongue.

And then I'm rolling, eased onto my stomach, pillows bundled beneath me as he tugs my hips up. I turn my head to the side, smiling as he reaches down to push the hair from my face.

“You okay, baby girl?” He asks, his voice rough with desire as he fists his dick with one hand, the other sliding over my back, down to my ass where he squeezes firmly.

“Yeah... Ro...” I lick my lips, watching his dick slide back and forth in his hand. “Please...”

He grins. “Ssh, you know I got you.” Leaning forward, he presses the tip against my entrance, slipping back and forth and then pulling back so I can see his dick shining with my juices. “How'd you want it? Slow? Fast?”

I shrug. “I just want it.”

He chuckles. “That's my girl.”

My hand reaches forward to grasp at the sheets, to hold myself steady but I still lose my balance as he pushes inside me. He's quick to correct me, his hands on my hips as he pushes further in, slow and steady, fighting to keep himself in check. He feels bigger than ever, my walls tight around him and I can tell from his muttered curse that he can feel that too.

He stills for a second, but I rock back, groaning as I feel my ass press against his pelvis.

“Please,” I choke out, my final plea before he gives me what I want.

His fingers dig in painfully hard as he struggles to keep it slow. But I don't want it slow. I want him to take what he needs as well. I need him to lose a little control, because when he comes undone, when he lets himself get taken over by his animalistic tendencies, that's when my own body lets go too. And I need that. I want to let go.

“Harder.”

He grunts, his hips rocking a little faster, a little rougher. But it's not enough. I twist my head back to face him, my hand moving to brush over his wrist.

“Harder,” I tell him through gritted teeth as I feel a hand slide over the base of my bump and sink south. “Aw, Ro... Fuck...”

His thumb rubs soft circles around my clit, moving closer and closer until I'm panting and begging. And then his arms are scooping under me, pulling me up right and I crash back against his chest.

“Fuck my dick, Lex,” he growls in my ear, a hand on my thigh, gripping firmly as the other seeks out my breast, finger and thumb working at my nipple until I'm fighting back the urge to cry from the onslaught he's currently inflicting on my body.

“Yes,” I manage to squeak out as he grabs my hand and pushes it between my legs. I let my fingers dip down, groaning as I feel his hard, slick length moving in and out of me at a fascinating speed. My back is sticking to his chest, sweat starting to cover my body in a thin sheen as he lets go of my breast and grabs roughly at my hair, pulling my head back so he can attack my neck.

It's fast and furious as we push and pull each other closer and closer. Words slip from his lips, spurring me on as he groans his appreciation for my pussy, my ass, my breasts. His hand slides over mine, pushing my fingers hard against my clit as I cry out, so fucking close to the edge.

And then I'm falling, tumbling into oblivion, my body freezing as another howl rips through me. He keeps thrusting hard, grunting against my neck, his teeth scraping against my skin as he holds me just so, until he starts to pulse inside me.

Still.

A hand on my bump. His lips on my shoulders. His hand dancing over mine, pulling it from my legs and up to his mouth where he kisses the tips of my fingers.

He grumbles softly when I finally pull away, turning to face him so I can kiss away his frown. But he lets me go, sighing as he sees the time and watches me rise on shaky legs and make my way to the bathroom.

When I return, the bed is empty, his shorts from last night gone from the floor as well. I dress and wind my hair up out of the way for the moment before heading downstairs. I can hear the low hum from the radio in the kitchen as I make my way through the lounge to grab my phone from my purse.

I pause at the mantlepiece, fighting the urge to look at the envelope. I take a step forward and then pause again, this time turning until my eyes are fixed on the scrawling handwriting.

Am I being selfish?

Is Roman right?

Would it make this easier if we knew?

I pull my eyes away, head for my purse, pull out my phone.

“Lex?” Roman calls out. “I made you pancakes.”

I grin, heading back past the mantlepiece.

It's only when I'm standing in the doorway of the kitchen that I realise that I'm holding the envelope in my hand.

“Lex?”

I look up, Roman's gaze flickering from my face to my hands.

“We... We don't tell anyone.”

His eyes widen. “No, Lex. You wanted to wait, you wanted–”

“We don't tell anyone,” I repeat, stepping forward, holding out the envelope. “Not Shiv, not Seth, not Becca, not Dean. Not even our parents. No-one.”

I press the envelope into his hands and he grasps it tightly.

“Lex–”

“Open it.”

“Are you–”

“I'm sure.”

His fingers tremble as he tears at the envelope. He holds my gaze as he draws out the slip of paper before lowering his eyes, a wide grin cracking his face in two.

“Boy or girl?” I whisper, but he doesn't answer me. He just hands me the slip of paper.

I stare at it, my brain barely recognising the letters that form the word. But slowly, it clicks into place and I can feel my own face breaking into a smile.

I look up and Roman is staring back at me, his eyes shining.

“Lex,” he breathes. “It's–”

“I know,” I tell him, as he pulls me into his arms. “I know.”

Fin x

[klm-zoflorr]

Incorrect quotes..... Parthogenesis

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: This revenge shit is very unrewarding it turns out. I have lost all my friends and am devoid of the sweet sweet burn of anger now that I've accomplished my goal. Everybody hates me. I'm not allowed less than 50 meters from a government building. Help.

Armin: I TOLD YOU SO!

Eren: Well, good for you!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Commander Magath: *driving down the road*

Hange, driving up the same road: *yelling out the window as she passes him* PIG!

Commander Magath: *yelling back at Hange* BITCH!

Commander Magath: *rounding next curb, he crashes into a hug pig in the middle of the road and dies*

Ymir Fritz, watching on: Ah, if men would just listen

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sasha: "sex" literally isn't real. "ohhh i just had sex" you "had" sex? where did it go? did it grow legs and run away?? idiot

Marcoco: Stop saying sex when what you mean is gender!!

Connie: I had gender with your mom

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mikasa: Are you sure this is legal?

Annie: Why, are you taping this?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hange: God I do not like a single thing about you

Zeke: Tell me more

Hange: This isn't sexting

Zeke: It's better than sexting tbh

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Mikasa getting ready for her date with Eren*

Levi: Tell him if he breaks your heart, I'll nail gun his.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: Your future self is talking shit about you right now.

Annie: Joke's on her. I'll ruin her fucking life.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Jean: Connie, Sasha! How could you possibly have gotten into this much trouble in one day?!

Connie: It... It didn't take us the whole day...

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hange: The bad news is you've lost a lot of blood

Sasha: What's the good news?

Hange: Well we've found most of it!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Grisha: *Calling the doctor* My wife is going into labor what do I do I have forgotten all of my medical training

Doctor on the other end of the call: Is this her first child?

Grisha: No this is her husband

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Kuchel: You are so incredibly full of issues, you should do something about it! Go see a shrink, I don't know!

Kenny Ackerman: Oh yes!

Kenny: I've always been a big fan of head shrinking!

Kuchel: That's not-... That's not what it means...

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Falco: Why is "dark" spelled with a K and not a C?

Zofia: Why not?

Falco: Because you can't "C" in the dark...

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Kenny, at the therapist: Well, that is disappointing

Therapist: What is?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Levi, at Mikasa's funeral: I need a moment with her... Alone. Please.

Everyone: Of course. *They leave*

Levi, leaning over Mikasa′s coffin: Okay, listen here you little shit. I'm not fooled by your cadaver palor and unnatural stillness. I know you’re not dead.

Mikasa: Yeah, no shit.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Connie: Me and Annie, we get along fine in my beat up honda civic. We just don't have room to disagree.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sasha: It's been hard not having Ymir around. I never thought I'd miss being waterboarded so much.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Annie and Porco on their first day as coast guards*

Boss: 7 people died on your watch today

Annie, looking off into the distance: Yes but the coast is fine

Porco:

Boss:

Porco: They were all very mean and refused to tip. So, we just threw them back in the water.

Annie: Also you only found seven. We killed a lot more.

Porco: Yeah, but you didn't have to mention that tho

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Therapist: Kenny, you have a problem verbalising your emotions

Kenny: Can't say I'm surprised

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hange: Love the train so much.... ...... I sit... ..... It goes........ ........ We arrive!!!!!

Connie: I understand that, but it still doesn't explain why we get to carry all the rails in 40 degree* weather while you sit in the shade and drink a monster energy on the rocks

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Carla: Can I have a private talk with you?

Grisha: Sure, as long as it’s not about tampons, because I just don’t understand them.

Hannes, wearing tampons as earplugs: How? It's so obvious what they're used for!

Carla: I asked for a PRIVATE talk with him!

Grisha: Oh, you just can't separate me and Hannes. We're a package deal!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: Don't you think you're being a little dramatic about me letting your cactus die?

Floch: Dramatic? Perhaps a little.

Floch: Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to look out the window with a grimly satisfied expression.

Floch: I paid this skywriter a lot of money to write “Eren likes pineapple on pizza” in the clouds.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Levi: The sexual tension between me and self-destruction

Kenny: Nothing has sexual tension with you, kid

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: You can diffuse any situation by saying, "are we about to kiss, right now?"

Historia: Eren, not only is that completely false and a ridiculous concept, but it's also not appropriate at all, we are at your trial for global genocide for fuck's sake-

Eren, leaning towards her: Are we about to kiss, right now?

Historia:

Historia, beet red: Nevermind.

Gabi: Can we PLEASE find another judge for this?!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Jean: I've got a joke for you. What's "Ereh" short for?

Armin: What for?

Jean: He's got little legs

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Annie: Im a lesbiab

Annie: Lesbiam

Annie: Less bien

Mikasa: Its okay take ur time

Annie: Girls

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mikasa: Annie and me buried the hatchet, figured you could try doing the same?

Ymir: I don't bury hatchets

Ymir: I sharpen them.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: I don't like being an adult

Carla: Yup I told you

Eren: You remember how you told me you put me in this world and you can take me out?

Eren: Take me out.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mikasa: So, you want to be the Sun in my life?

Jean: Yes.

Mikasa: Good, then stay 92,935,700 miles away from me

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mikasa: Eren, stop! This isn't you, you've gone mad with power!

Eren: Well of course I have.

Eren: Have you ever tried going mad without power?

Eren: It's boring.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ymir: Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves. One for your foe, one for yourself.

Zeke: What a stupid fucking quote. I'm killing way more than two people idiot

Eren: Don't even bury them. Let them rot.

Zeke: Plus it's not like I'm gonna bury myself anyways? Why would I provide free cleaning labor like that

Eren: Maybe you're supposed to die in the grave?

Zeke: I'm not gonna dig myself a grave so someone can push me in and I can die as the biggest idiot that ever walked this Earth

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Udo, watching Gabi: If you were religious, that would be straight-to-hell behavior...

Gabi, putting scorpions in Zeke's dresser after he called her a shitty little kid: I don't believe in heaven or hell, but I do believe in Revenge

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Armin, about Eren: If karma doesn't hit you real quick, I fucking will.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Falco: You know how in greek myths the people that die tragically sometimes get placed among the stars by the gods?

Colt: Yeah?

Falco: Call that a constellation prize.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sasha, taking care of Reiner after he got injured: It's okay Braus, stay calm, stay calm

Reiner: My name isn't Braus, it's Braun

Sasha: I know, I'm talking to myself.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Pieck sliding $5 to the zookeeper*

Pieck: Maybe one of those penguins ends up in my car?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Historia: Fun fact: Blueberries are the only fruit named after a color

Armin: Starfruit

Historia: So close! That's a shape <33

Mikasa: Orange

Historia: Try again! <3 The color orange is named after the fruit.

Connie: Grape! "Gra" for gray! 🍇🤲😊

Historia:

Jean: You also forgot blackberries

Sasha: You idiot, black isn't a color.

Gabi: What about raspberries

Ymir: Green beans?

Falco: Lemons!! ♥️🥰☺️

Reiner: Wait aren't berries not fruit?

Historia: You all are so fucking stupid.

Zeke: What about dragon fruit

Historia: I am going to stone you

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mikasa: Are oranges named orange because oranges are orange or is orange called orange because oranges are orange?

Connie: Which came first, the orange or the orange?

Historia: Orange was first used to refer to the fruit 1280 years ago but was not used as a color until around 1000 years ago.

Eren: What was the color called before then?

Sasha: There was no color, duh! Everything was black and white!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hitch: "I'm kind of in a weird mental place right now" I say, as if there are times when I am not in a weird mental place

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Erwin, bleary eyed at 7am: Why are you opening all the windows?

Levi: We have to let air in

Erwin: But it's raining!

Levi: You're not made out of sugar, are you?!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Eren getting into Mikasa's car*

Eren: Let's go

Mikasa: Uh... Uh... Hi? Nice to see you too?

*Armin getting into the backseat*

Armin: Wait, she's our Uber driver?

Mikasa: Uber driver? I thought we were going on a date, Eren!

Armin: I thought this was a guy's night out!

Eren: There's been a change of plans.

Mikasa: You could have just asked?? You didn't have to trick us?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Porco: I'm not a 🚩 i'm more like a ⚠️ cause I do warn you, you just don't be listening

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Pieck: I'm not a 🚩 I'm a 🏁 cause you winnin' over there

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hange: I don’t know the first thing about fashion. Pretty much all I can do is look at something and tell you if it’s clothes or not. This titan? Not clothes.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Thru the phone*

Erwin: Hey, I need your help, can you come back?

Hange: Uh, I can't, I'm buying clothes.

Erwin: Alright, well hurry up and come back to base.

Hange: I can't find them.

Erwin: What do you mean you can't find them?

Hange: I can't find them, there's only soup.

Erwin: What do you mean there's only soup?

Hange: It means there's only soup!

Erwin: Well then get out of the soup aisle!

Hange: Alright you don't have to shout at me!

*Silence*

Hange: There's more soup!

Erwin: What do you mean there's more soup?

Hange: There's just more soup!

Erwin: Go into the next aisle!

Hange: There's still soup!

Erwin: Where are you right now?

Hange: I'm at soup!

Erwin: What do you mean you're "at soup?"

Hange: I mean I'm at soup!

Erwin: What store are you in?

Hange: I'm at the soup store!

Erwin: Why are you buying clothes at the soup store?!

Hange: Fuck you!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zeke: And then we'll be transported to the Paths dimension, and we'll meet Ymir Fritz, that's our long-dead ancestor...

Eren: I can barely tolerate the living, why would I want to commute with the dead?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Armin: Does necromancy only work on animals? What do you do if you accidentally necromancy a fence and then it starts growing branches?

Armin: WHAT DO YOU DO IF YOU NECROMANCY A BOTTLE OF SHAMPOO AND IT TURNS INTO AN ENTIRE PILE OF LIMES?

Armin: What if I accidentally necromancy a vaccine and then someone gets an armful of very live pathogen?

Armin: WHAT'S THE LIMIT ON DEADNESS? HOW RECENTLY DOES SOMETHING HAVE TO BE DEAD? COULD I NECROMANCY A DINOSAUR FOSSIL? WHAT IF I NECROMANCIED THE GROUND AND THEN DINOSAURS STARTED APPEARING?

Armin: WHAT IF I NECROMANCIED A LIMESTONE WALL AND IT JUST TURNED INTO A PILE OF MOLLUSCS? WHAT IF I MOLLUSCED A BUILDING? A MOUNTAIN?

Annie: Armin.

Annie: are u ok

Armin: NO

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Colt's contributions to meetings: What about the impact on civilian populations? Do we have enough ammunition, provisions in storage to not rely on outside help?

Falco's contributions to meetings: Do you think stars have feelings?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Grisha: It's been ten year since my beloved son Zeke died...

Zeke: I was never your beloved son! And quit telling people I'm dead!

Grisha: Sometimes it feels like I can still hear his voice...

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Historia: *wearing a shirt reading "cunt era"*

Eren: *wearing a shirt reading "I'm high as fuck and have a gun in my backpack"*

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Grisha: The bad news is that you have a really rare disease

Rod Reiss: Oh, no. What's the good news?

Grisha: Well, you get to name it!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: What's a good starter vice for someone who wants to get into ruining their life?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Gabi: Smarties

Yelena: Heroin and mass murder

Levi: You're both at very different ends of the spectrum yet I don't think either of you understood the question

Levi: The real answer is Erwin Smith

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zeke, getting up in the middle of a meeting: Pieck and I are not longer dating

Pieck: Zeke, that's a horrible way to tell people that we got married

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zeke: My mother and I spent some quality time together. Got our hands dirty.

Pieck: Gardening?

Zeke: Grave-digging.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Historia: Food trucks but instead of food, it's therapy and they're called automofeels

Rod Reiss: I know you're my last living descendant but with that kind of suggestions, I feel like I'd be better off picking a manged rat off the street

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Floch: If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're impressed.

Yelena: But you do know better.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: I wanna be a reverse tooth fairy where I rob people and then scatter human teeth on their bed

Sasha: a dentist

Eren: I don't know what your dentist is doing to you but I think you need to go to the police

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Pieck is coming back with McDonalds*

Zeke, reaching for his happy meal: Sorry, but there's no "we" in "fries"

Pieck: But there is an "I" *she steals all of his fries*

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Jean: Well, if you're not at least a little bit gay for your friends, then what kind of friend are you?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mikasa: The feminine urge to be ominous & terrifying...

Hange: Mood

Mikasa: You are like if a moth was wearing clown shoes.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: A fun fact about me is i have never forgiven anyone for anything

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Bertholt: Have you ever been told you can be a bit intimidating?

Annie: Yes, every day of my life since kindergarten.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sasha: Being alive is great because there are so many different great vegetables you can sauté. But then there are also The Horrors

Falco: So true

Falco: Actually no. This is weird.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Uri Reiss: What is a sex drive where is the sex going does it even have a licence

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Levi, to Erwin: You're gay because you like men

Levi: I'm gay because I hate women just a tiny bit more than I hate men. We are not the same.

Hange: Yaoi vs shounen

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Annie: What’s it like being tall?

Historia: Is it nice?

Armin: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

Reiner: I live in constant fear of the short people, who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eren: I don't know whether to bail you out, Mikasa, you've been in jail three times.

Zeke: Dad, Eren is cheating.

Grisha: Calm down, son.

Zeke: You are supporting him just because he bought you a hotel on Park Place

Eren: Someone has to take care of him in his old age? Who is going to do it but me? You?

Mikasa: *slyly knocks the Monopoly board off the table😼*

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner: Hey girl ive been yearning for you the normal amount

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Grisha: Great. Here comes the woke mob to cancel me for killing and eating several people.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The 104th, Hange, Erwin, Levi, Grisha, Carla, Hannes wearing party hats, popping confetti cannons and cheering: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Eren: Uh. Thanks I guess?

Historia: You don't like being celebrated?

Eren: I prefer to be villified, my name invoking fear over a great cloud of darkness...

Carla: Muffins, Overlord?

Eren: Thamk you

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Connie: I like you lets go to hell together

Sasha: Hell? More like HELL P!! Ahah

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Rod Reiss: We need back-up with the military police!! Are you free?

Kenny: No actually, I am very expensive.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Connie: Since when are drapes flammable?

Historia: Since always, Connie! Drapes have ALWAYS BEEN FLAMMABLE!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mikasa: I have yet to encounter a problem where a sword didn't factor into the solution at least in some way.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Parental figure: Don't go into the forest, it's full of lemon-stealing whores!

Teenage Hange: Ooh, spooky!

Teenhange: What specific parts of the woods are they in, so I can avoid them extra hard?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner, in front of Sasha's grave: Rip i was always into you

Sasha, popping out from behind a tree: ? Worst confession ever

Reiner: You're not dead??

Reiner: I lied

Reiner: You are nothing to me

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Gabi and Falco looking over the bones of Rod Reiss*

Falco: What happened to him?

Historia: Ah well, he tried to outpizza the Hut

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Falco: I heard it's supposed to rain

Colt: Oh, yeah? But look at this sun!

Zeke:

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Pieck: Brr, getting a bit cold, uh?

Gabi: Yeah, it's supposed to rain later

Zeke:

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Zeke passing through next to Magath adressing the kids*

Commander Magath: We're not gonna do the lesson outside today, it's supposed to rain

Zeke:

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Annie: Galliard, mind helping me set up the tables outside for my mind reading scam?

Porco: Don't start this now, it's supposed to rain this afternoon!

Zeke: I heard it's never going to rain again.

Porco: What is the fucking matter with you

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Pieck: I decided I'm actually not gonna break up with you over your corny jokes, Porco convinced me otherwise.

Zeke: What a re-LEAF. I should get you flowers. I know it STEMS from a place of love, now our relationship can BURGEON out of bounds.

Pieck: I changed my mind.

Zeke: Ok, but Porco avocated for me?? Really?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Annie: Zeke? What was that message you sent me?

*Shows him the phone, with a garbled texting mess on it that reads as follows: pleusr bereing qi 2 auffce chabi goht pik 🏹. shi went hair glleiteur pin. kiuk houry aim worrded*

Zeke: "Please bring the key to the office back, Gabi is threatening Pieck at gunpoint, she wants her glitter pen back and I seem to be the only one worried about it."

Annie: I read serial killer diaries with better punctuation than this

Zeke: But do you have the keys?

Annie: No.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Annie: What about the bow emoji?

Zeke: They censored the gun on my phone

Annie: No, look there's the little water gun...

Zeke: It doesn't convey the urgency of the situation

Annie: Nothing in your message conveys the urgency of the situation since you need a degree in foreign languages to understand it

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Commander Magath: Do you have any children?

Dina Fritz: Yes, I have one that's just under two.

Commander Magath: I know how many one is

Commander Magath: Is he big enough to man a cannon yet

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Yelena: Blackmail is such an ugly word. I prefer extortion. The X makes it sound cool.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Reiner: Be myself?? The person who got me into this mess???

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ymir: Will I find a purpose?

Annie, posing as a fortune teller: No.

Ymir: u didn't do the thing with the cards

Annie: *flips one card, maintaining eye contact* No.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Pieck: *unbuttoning shirt* Oh my god, it's hot as hell in here.

Yelena: Yes, but why are you unbuttoning my shirt?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Connie: You into cars?

Ymir: Yes, it truly was a masterpiece of a film

Connie: No i mean are you a cars person

Ymir: I'm a human.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Connie: I tried making my own Red Bull with crushed up caffeine pills, twenty-one shots of expresso, carbonated licorice water and gummy vitamins. The doctor said I'm lucky to be alive.

Connie, 24 hours before: I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and am fighting my own soul. I'm winning by the way.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Levi: i am at a loss for words to describe how absolutely stupid this plan was!

Sasha, narrating: Despite being at a loss for words, the Captain yelled at us for the next thirty minutes.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Hange getting ready to go on an expedition in the titan forest*

Hange: If you hear me screaming bloody murder, there's a good chance I'm enjoying myself.

Levi: ...figured that one out

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mikasa, when Eren leaves for Zeke's side: You're leaving me? I'm coming with you.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Gabi: What's the difference between Reiner and a magnet?

Gabi: A magnet has a positive side!

Reiner: Ah-Ah. Very funny.

Falco: A magnet would have laughed at this quality joke!

Reiner: I wish I were an household item

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hange: You know, you look pretty fit yourself. What do you play?

Erwin: Anybody that gets close enough.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mr. Xaver: I'm sorry Zeke, your dad was pronounced dead

Zeke: *tearing up*

Zeke: I've been pronouncing it wrong this whole time??!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Historia: I tried your "salad" thing today, and Ew. I only ate one of those red and white nasty apple things, and I couldn't handle it after.

Pieck: Radishes, Historia

Historia: Mini dirt apples

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Kenny the Boomer, looking at his dead phone: How do we bring this thing back to life? Magic? Live sacrifice? I know a guy in town-

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Floch, lovingly, to Eren: You inspire me to be so much worse

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Floch, interviewing people: What do you want for Christmas?

Annie: Uhhh... for me to be alive

Levi: You know those microfibers cloths they have at big stores?

Historia: I just want Captain Levi to have a great time. Cause, he's been really really sad and angry lately. And you know, that's all I really need, more happiness in the world.

Connie: I'll say I want a big booty hoe, sitting on my face right now. Blrrr!

Sasha: Free weed!

Eren: Uhhhh.... World peace

Mikasa: Dick

Hange: *Pouring everyone a big glass of her special cocktail* Mental stabilityyyy baby!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Jean: I'd roast you, but my mom says you can't burn trash.

Jean: *moon-walks out of the room*

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Annie: I'm not sure whose twisted idea it was to put hundreds of adolescents in underfunded dilapidated training camps, taught by people whose dreams were crushed years ago, but I admire the sadism.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Yelena: I've tried some eyeliner, thoughts?

Floch: Sorry but someone already has swag in this enimity and it's ME

Yelena: You? Cool? You are like if a moth was wearing clown shoes.

Floch: Where did you even hear that expression

Yelena: Idk

Floch: Well you look like you could stab someone with these anyways

Yelena: The clown shoes?

Floch: The eyeliner.

Yelena: That's the goal

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Zeke organising a play about his life: Porco, I think you should play the role of my father.

Porco: I don't want to be your father??

Zeke: That's perfect, you already know your lines!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Marcel: I don’t know why I do the things I do. Never did. I’m a damn mystery to myself. It makes my existence... Exciting, you know. You never know what's gonna happen. Am I going to jail, am I getting a medal for bravery? Am I driving on the highway at three in the morning to ruin my life and everybody in this town's again??

Ymir: Are you gonna get caught, cooked and eaten by a random girl in the woods?? Who the hell knows.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

*Porco, in his jock attire, yelling at the tv*

Bertholt: You're yelling like the players are actually gonna listen to you

Porco: You're in love with a girl who doesn't even know you exist

Bertholt:

Bertholt: Never talk to me again

*Bertholt goes to his room to try and glue back the shattered remains of his ego*

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Historia: I think my dad never loved me.

Zeke: HA! Loser. I always KNEW my dad never loved me.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sasha, leaving the Training Corps in s2 to go save her family: There I go side questing again!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Flight attendant: Is there a doctor on the plane?

Armin: Yes, but I'm not that kind of...

Flight attendant: The pilots are debating the merits of the terminologies of "the dark ages" vs. "late antiquity" vs. "the early middle ages".

Armin: Okay. I'm here.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Bertholt: Annie... I need to tell you something.

Annie: Alright?

Bertholt: You're hot then you're cold, you're yes then you're no, you're in and you're out, you're up then you're down, you're right when it's wrong, you... I guess what I want to say is you're incredible and I care about you. You're so good... At everything. I deeply admire you. I could get lost in the blue of your eyes, I feel like I'm flying when I look at you. Your hair is a golden crown, which you deserve because you are a queen. Your laugh is rare and dry like an oasis in the desert, it's the only thing in the world that can quench my thirst. What I'm trying to say is... I love you.

Annie: Alright.

Bertholt:

Annie: Thanks. You... Uh... You always fill a room with your presence... Like a stately sequoia tree.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sasha: *sees a ghost* omg are you dead

Ghost Gabi: Of corpse

Ghost Gabi: The other ghosts said they'll beat my ass because of this joke. Grave mistake.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Levi: Oh yes, my uncle is out of town, said something about tying up loose ends?

Uri Reiss:

Kenny: *tying up the ends of a black bag filled with a dead body*

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Falco: Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

Gabi:

Gabi: I don't think you know what this sentence means

Gabi: But yes, it's a gun.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Connie: Are you alright?

Historia: I'm fine.

Connie: No, but really?

Historia: I mean yeah i carry around an immense sadness that destroys my will to live more and more everyday but like im fine

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Erwin: I rarely find cocaine jokes funny.

Erwin: But occasionally, an one-liner makes me snort.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Annie: We have an issue. Most of your bleeding is internal.

Marcel: Well, isn't that good news?! That's where the blood is supposed to be anyways!

Pieck: I don't think it's in the benefit of humanity as a whole to try to save him...

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mikasa: I act as if I don't care if people dislike me. But deep down? I secretly enjoy it.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Yes, do believe good cop/bad cop is the essence of the MikAnnie dynamic

Yes, I know titans aren't supposed to leave bones behind. I'm gonna need you to get allll the way off my back about this!

Yes, I did watch the Wednesday series recently. It's a good show, innit? Full of punchy one-liners!

Yes, this end note is getting entirely too repetitive.

Yes, there's more?

*: 104° F for you eagle people

[lunar-years]

i think roy’s the first person jamie’s ever told about his trip to amsterdam, and i know some people think he’s told georgie about it or at least that georgie knows something bad happened. but. now i’m curious about what jamie talked about in his session with doctor sharon. do you think he only went the one time? maybe focused on his dad’s physical/emotional abuse?

on the Amsterdam & Georgie front: I do have an explanation/reasoning for why i don't think he's told Georgie. I was just messaging someone about it yesterday! But in any case I am pretty convinced Roy was indeed the first person Jamie told. (However there's a really good alternative take in the fic I recommended about Jamie and Amsterdam, in which he does tell Georgie and it pans out in a specific way. That's the one argument for him telling Georgie that I've seen so far that really makes sense to me within a canon context, lol)

it is super interesting that you would bring up Jamie and therapy and Dr. Sharon though, because i was genuinely JUST thinking about this!!! I think a fairly common consensus is that the "don't speak to me like that" language we see in the Wembley locker room is a line direct from Dr. Sharon, and/or that Jamie is king of therapy etc. idk...I'm not convinced on either front. I'm not NOT convinced, either. I don't have a super strong opinion on it one way or another because I don't think there's really enough evidence to support either conclusion, but.

I will say, I personally think the one scene we get of Keeley taking Jamie down to Dr. Sharon's office is not enough to indicate Jamie loves therapy and keeps going back. Like, with Colin we get several small lines/details to show he's consistently seeing her, and we do not with Jamie, which is notable I feel. Yeah, he's shown to be all pleased to be talking about himself in the 2 seconds we see after he sits down with her, and it's a funny moment but... it's very superficial. Jamie likes talking about him in a certain surface-level way for sure, but he definitely keeps personal things about himself and his past close to his chest IMO. So to answer your question, yes I think it's a real possibility that he only went that one time.

As for what they spoke about...the reason Keeley brings him down there is very explicitly because he's complaining that no one on the team likes him, and I do thing that's what they discussed. That's also a problem that get resolves in the very same episode, and I'm not sure Jamie would have the self-insight at that point to be like "hmm maybe I should keep going back to therapy so we can dive into my Dad Trauma." Personally, I think when Jamie isn't immediately dealing with his father he is extremely good at putting him out of his mind and telling himself "that doesn't bother me anymore." He strikes me as generally being like, "Oh yeah i'm totally over everything bad that's ever happened to me! It's so not a big deal 🤪" deflection behavior. That is, until something happens that triggers him or he has another encounter with the man and then it's like...actually yeah that problem has never gone away and I've never actually dealt with any of it! So maybe he goes back for a session or two after Wembley, I could definitely see that. But I don't really think he keeps up with it once Dr. Sharon leaves.

I certainly do hope he returns to it after s3 though!

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

I really liked this chapter!! It was angsty but not in like a bad way??? Like it was a hopeful angst hahaha!

This definitely makes up for Dieters behaviour! I hope Talia doesn’t blame herself too much tho because while yes, she could’ve helped him earlier. But it’s also not her responsibility to make sure his doctors are doing the right things? And she also has to take care of her own mental health. So I don’t blame her for not doing anything. It’s a complicated situation!

tbh, I think this was kinda the worst time to really introduce Lauren and Alex’s relationship because with everything with Dieter, I just don’t really care about them? lmao it’s kinda like “yeah good for them but is Dieter okay?????”

That moment with Talia and Dieter just made me 🥺🥺😭😭 he just wants to come home 😭😭 like actually broke my heart. I just wanna wrap him in a snuggly blanket and hug him. (Can we make him a mental health hospital basket? Like fluffy socks and chocolates and a little stuffed bear that smells like home…🥺😂)

And it suuuuucks that all this happened and that Dieter will have to go through all this now but it’s also good because he needs this and sometimes the good things are so fucking hard. But they’ll be worth it in the end and Dieter (and Talia) deserve all the good things 🥺

I can’t wait to see Dieter learning all the healthy coping mechanisms and therapy tricks (i feel like he’s gonna be so proud of himself that he’s shyly gonna tell people the things his therapist said helps. 🥺)

Aaaaaaaah I’m just so freaking soft for him and I just want him to be happy and healthy!!!! I already can’t wait to read the next chapter, I love this story sooooo muuuuuuch!!! (thanks for the update and we love you!!)

Thanks for the message Anon!

I am happy to hear you enjoyed this chapter! It was indeed a rough one. It defiantly brought back some not-so-great memories for me. The conversation between D and Talia was loosely based off real conversations I have had with two people in my life. Neither of which were easy. So, if you felt some realism to it, that is most likely why.

More after the cut... (contains spoilers for Chapter 25)

Oh you know Talia is totally going to be hard on herself about how she handled the whole situation. Especially now that she admits she hasn't been handling her emotions well either. Everything she has kept locked away is about to bust out with a vengeance, forcing her to finally deal with her issues too... and I do mean everything. Not just the things related to D. So, here is my thinking behind the Lauren and Alex reveal...Was it ideal? Absolutely not, but neither is life. Alex was obviously going to be there for his brother. It's inevitable. Alex & Lauren were already together when Gabby called, and they came to the hospital together. Lauren, of course, wanted to be there to support D, Talia, Gabby, and Alex. It's hard to support the person you are in love with while pretending you are not a couple. In my mind, during situations like this, all of the trivial stuff like that kind of goes out the window so that you can be there for the people you love. Honestly, their relationship was probably the last thing on their mind in the middle of the panic that Gabby's call would have brought on. To be fair, they didn't announce it...Gabby and Talia just kind of figured it out. It really was a heartbreaking moment... and it isn't even that he wanted to go home. He wanted to be with Talia, wherever she was. He just wants them to be together again in their little bubble. She is home to him.

It does suck that he has spiraled so hard. It helps to see the good in it though. It is going to force both D and Talia to get the help they need so they can have their happily ever after.

Given that you feel that is how he will be about his recovery, I think you will enjoy the ending that I have planned for these two. 😉 At this point, I think we all want to hug and snuggle D. I am sure he wouldn't be opposed to a gift basket. Maybe a stuffed raccoon (that smells like Talia) and some kit-kats would make things a little easier on him? Thanks for reading! I love my anons and readers too! 💜😘

🌛Mysterious-Moonstruck-Musings

CC: @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @for-a-longlongtime @hisandsnakes @chaoticfestninja @survivingandenduring @partyofone3413 @wannab-urs @cakipy-blog @titlee78 @poodlebae @guelyury @missladym1981 @maried01 @alokaerza @samiamproductions @misstokyo7love @themonadiaries-blog @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @avastrasposts @weho2kcmo @harriedandharassed @tkchaos @girlofchaos @yghuibt @musings-of-a-rose

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Vampire!Peter + Martin Whitly, Who Is The Real Monster, discussion prompted by rewatching Frankenstein because I am thinking many frankenstein thoughts always these days?

Absolutely hilarious that you sent me a prompt involving Frankenstein cause I was gonna rewatch a video tonight discussing the novel/Junji Ito manga version of it cause it's October and that means horror classics.

But I'll watch that later, I've got a one-shot to write.

On with the fic!

--

Peter shifted about on the couch, trying to make himself more comfortable without spilling his drink. Sure, he could put it on the table, but... nah. He just gave up and flopped on Martin's thighs and wiggled a bit.

"Really? All that for you just picking my lap, as usual?" Martin asked, though not sounding all that offended.

"Yep." Peter replied, loudly sipping from the silly straw in his cup. His attention was on the screen, watching as Victor Frankenstein moved about, talking about his creation, which was going to be brought to life shortly. "Hey, Martin, I've got a question."

"I'm sure you do."

"Why do people always call Frankenstein a doctor when the idiot never actually finished school?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like," Peter shifted to make himself more comfortable, "the book has it where he's still in college, basically. And this is a project he's working on in his fuckin' house, that he shares with other people!"

Martin chuckled, carding his fingers through Peter's hair. "Well, many medical professionals have done experiments at home."

"Not recreating a human body!"

"Not that you know of."

Peter turned up at him, giving him a stare. Martin laughed at this. "No, I'm not included. There would have never been a good time to have a reconstructed corpse in my busy home! Jessica would have found out the moment I brought in the first body part!"

"Or Malcolm would have."

This made Martin scoff. "Oh, possibly. I bring one girl home and suddenly I find myself in a cell for twenty years because my son was a little too curious."

Peter rolled his eyes and slurped his bloody mary that contained real blood. "Still though, why do people call him Dr. Frankenstein if he never even earned that title?"

"Well, I assume it's to separate him from Frankenstein the monster."

"I guess, but that's dumb."

"How so?" Martin asked, attention now on Peter rather than the movie where the monster's body is currently being brought to life. Peter had seen this scene enough times to not bother looking at the screen.

"It's... ya know, I mean. The monster is his own person, he's not Frankenstein! He learns to speak and read later in the novel through his communications with a family, before everything goes to shit cause, whoops, he can't have anythin' nice, no thanks to that bitch Victor. He even tells his creator that he is basically his Adam. Probably why people call him that when they talk about these two."

Martin shrugged. "I suppose so, he is a rather smart human-like being, even though the movies tend to not show that."

"Ehhh... I think Van Helsing did? Can't remember, it's been ages since I've sat down and watched that one sober." Peter finished off his drink, setting the cup aside to cross his arms. "But anyway, it's so weird that the movies kinda fuck up his character."

"The monster?"

"Yeah! He's smart, he's caring, but he is also angry, which they get right. I mean, I'd be fuckin' mad at my creator for bringin' me to life and then abandoning me. Oh wait, I have! Fuck my sire! Killed that bitch. Still, like, he's human, in his own right! No need to call him the monster."

"Ah, but does this play into the common question people have about him and his creator? Who is the monster and who is the man?" Martin asked, smiling. "I remember having a discussion about this once with Malcolm, he had been reading the book in school and it had him thinking about me."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "About you?"

"Well, at this point I was in my cell, so he knew that I was the Surgeon. But at the time, Malcolm had explained to me that he saw that how I presented myself to the world and the person hidden from it, the one that was dangerous, were like Frankenstein and the monster."

"Thought you'd be more Jekyll and Hyde."

"I thought so too, but he explained it as... oh..." He tapped his chin. "Ah, yes, he said that I presented myself as this brilliant scientist, who tried to keep up a normal life, and yet I hide from the world a creation made of horrible deeds through the pursuit of knowledge. And, like Victor Frankenstein, to deal with troubling thoughts. This 'creature' I created, the Surgeon, could pretend to be human, but was still a monster, even if he knew the right ways to be human, he just wasn't one due to who he was."

Martin then leaned back, smiling. "I think my boy was overthinking it, believing that I am both the man and the monster, as both of these characters are in their own right. It still sounded Jekyll and Hyde to me, but then again, Malcolm always did find ways to relate me to more conflicting philosophies and thoughts. What a clever boy."

Peter wasn't sure what to say to that, so decided to change the subject. "Did you know only one adaptation of Frankenstein actually brings up that the eight-foot tall man is hung like a fuckin' horse?"

"Only you would go from deep thoughts of humanity to thinking about someone's groin."

"It's Young Frankenstein, in case you're wonderin'." Peter grinned.

--

Personally, I have no idea who is the monster and who is the man, both are so very, very human and I think that's the point.

*jazz hands*

And yes, Peter is correct about that last fact. Also, apparently, the Universal movie is based on a play adaptation that changed so much of the original plot.

Just some fun facts right there.

[gwydionmisha]

The Damages

So it turns out everything the PT said to me except the part about how to put on a shirt post injury was misinformation. We went to the appointment so they could show me how to wear the real sling and I showed him the angle she had me where the Special fat people torture sling and he was like: That's not how you wear a sling, but they do it that way on TV a lot. O.o I'd had my entire arm in a stress position for two weeks while healing from shoulder replacement because the PT taught me to torture myself because she had no idea how slings work.

At some point late last week I started thinking of the way little kids play being a Doctor with stuffed animals. The way the PT handled my arm was about as accurate to medical practice as my sister when she was small taping up a stuffed animal's arm pretending it was broken.

She was so very, very confident in her ignorance.

All that dance and martial arts training I had made everything worse. My body is an absolute ruin that literally eats itself, but there is a particular kind of physical self discipline that is so ingrained it never goes away.

You tell me to hold a position or do a particular movement no matter how weird or awkward, I will study it and then work persistently until I get so I can do it over and over and over correctly or hold it as long as you need me to or whatever. I will work up slowly as I need too, but I do the thing over and over for longer and longer day after day after day.

This is why I did so well at pre-op physio. Doesn't matter if I hurt. Doesn't matter if I'm exhausted. I kept working the program right up to the edge of what I could do without doing damage that would slow progress. All those years as an athlete I'm good at telling pain that's just pain from pain that means stop.

You tell me it is essential to hold these incredibly difficult and painful positions to speed recovery, I slowly, persistently, relentlessly do terrible things to myself, which is a problem if the person giving orders has no idea what they are doing and is telling me the opposite of the correct things.

So then we go to the post surgical doctor appointment and have to explain it all again. The face of the PA and the little sound she made when I said the PT had confiscated the sling they'd put on me for a generic XL. The way her mouth went thin and expression hardened when I explained the PT had made very clear we had to do this because of my size and her fast and furious typing. The tone in the Doctor's voice when he said, "They took your sling?" (I used to sound like that when I was teaching and about to bring the hammer down on one of the instigator kids.) All the other careful questions from the Doctor.

I should be ready to do serious PT now. Instead I'm having to work my ass of with the goal of getting my arm back to as undamaged as it was three or four days after surgery.

I am furious. I did everything right and did my damnedest to do everything they told me until I physically couldn't because of the exponential damage. I endured two weeks of extreme sleep dep and stress positions on wounded limbs and blood circulation restriction for nothing. I could have been sleeping and resting the arm between short gentle physio exercises they didn't even hurt until the arm got too damaged to do them.

She stole all this from me and the time and effort it's going to take to get me back to where I could have been if the hospital had just handed us printed directions and sent me home instead of sending a PT to misinform me and make me wear the wrong sling.

So yeah, that sure is fun to live with.

I did tell them that I'm worried it could happen to someone else because they do a lot of shoulder replacements at the hospital. Problem is, I don't know her name. They did keep asking, because they also clearly don't want this terrible thing. Surely there must be records of who was on shift that day, mustn't there be?

They think there won't be real permanent damage, but Squirrel took me for an x-ray today to see if there is anything needing fixing because of Missinformation PT. I am worried about the possibilities of more procedures because I'm not convinced I should take even tramadol for a few months, and I need to let my stomach recover from all that tylanol.

The arm hurts of course, but I'm used to pain and am very, very good at enduring it. Which worked against me the last two weeks, of course, but in the ordinary run of things lets me function with daily chronic pain that would lay ableds flat. I have one of the best non-narcotic prescription arthritis meds, one not normally covered by medicare, but which my allergies give me access too. The Doctor was a little alarmed that my ordinary daily meds are my entire pain management plan at this stage of post surgical recovery, but while unpleasant, this is fine. Like within my normal range of how much pain I randomly wake up with and significantly less pain than say the week before surgery.

I think it's hard for ableds to conceptualize just how hard this level of chronic pain/illness is to live with. I think the permanence and extremity of it is hard to conceptualize if you don;t live with it and never had say cancer of a really bad accident with a long recovery.

So I'm back to slowly, persistently, relentlessly working the program. I can already straighten my arm and am back on pendulums. My arm, shoulder, hand, etc. have forgotten what natural resting positions, feel like, but I'm working on it. The stiffness and mild numbness in my hand are annoying, but supposedly temporary. The flexeril is really helping with the contracted, spasmed muscles in my back neck and shoulder and not having to prop the injured arm into a painful stress position during sleep is a lot easier. I am cleared to side sleep, but it pulls the incisions and the damaged shoulder too much, but soon, soon. I've already worked out a prop system for back sleeping that mostly supports the arm in a natural angle. I could have been sleeping like this this whole time. Makes me want to weep.

I'm still having to type with just the off hand. I'm better at it than I was, but it tires easily. I write a while, but need to rest it, and how much I can do at a time varies. This means it may still be a little while until regular service on things like the aggregate will resume. I will let you all know how it goes.

[banannabethchase]

Not Really a Dick Pic - also on AO3

~

Pairing: Danny/Yuta

Rating: T, for excessive discussion of boners

For @wrestleprompts Week 4: asking permission to send a dick pic. This is a crackfic. This is chaos and nonsense and...I almost feel the need to apologize. Warnings for: excessive use of the word dick, mildly horny medical concerns, and bromoerotic interactions.

~

Wheeler blinks down at the phone. He closes the text app, and opens it again to make sure he’s reading it right.

Yup.

dude I think u broke my dick can u check

Wheeler sighs. He’d been hoping he’d been struck with an acute case of wishful thinking or word-based hallucinations, but nope. This was Danny Garcia, who he had just flattened in a tag match, asking him to check his dick.

Am I really the one to ask? I’m not a doctor.

yah but ur the 1 who did it so

Wheeler is sure he’s going to regret this. Go ahead and send me the picture.

He braces himself and tries to convince himself he won’t be a creepy combination of unprofessional and horny. It’s not really a dick pic. It’s a medical concern, possibly medical emergency, that his colleague is asking for help about. A boner is inappropriate. His, or Danny’s. He’s about to see Danny’s boner.

Oh boy.

His phone dings and Wheeler’s hands are, to be fair, a little shaky. It’s not because he’s into it. He’s not anticipating anything. He’s concerned for the wellbeing of his colleague.

Exhaling slowly, he opens the photo.

“Huh.”

It’s clinical, he tells himself, the way he examines the image. He notes a gentle curve to the left, a red-purple color, and thinks about the gory parts of Grey’s Anatomy to remind himself he’s here as a clinical support.

What’s the issue?

its bent it doesnt usually bend

Yeah, go to the doctor, man. This is not my area of expertise.

There’s a few minutes, and then there’s a phone call. “Why’d you land on my dick, anyway?”

“Hello, Daniel, nice to speak to you,” Wheeler grumbles. “Your dick looks fine.”

“But, like,” he huffs on the other end of the line. “You fell on my dick during the match. Why’d you fall on my dick?”

“I don’t know, man!” Wheeler finally says, throwing his free hand in the air. “Jesus, you can’t send a guy a dick pic and expect him to know how to deal with it.”

The other end of the line is quiet. “It wasn’t really a dick pic, technically.”

“It was close and I got flustered,” Wheeler retorts. He takes a deep breath. “Okay. I don’t notice anything wrong with your dick, okay? But, I, uh. I might not be the best reference, since I’ve never seen your dick before.”

“Would you want to?”

Now it’s Wheeler’s turn to go silent. “What?”

“Ignore that,” Danny says. “Fuck. I don’t know. I’m gonna, like, go to urgent care, get this checked out. And then next Wednesday I’ll come find you and – and apologize for the dick pic.”

Wheeler can’t fight a smile. “I thought you said it wasn’t a dick pic.”

“It wasn’t!” Danny says. “Stop – you broke my dick, and you’re making fun of me.”

“Wait a second,” Wheeler says, “does that mean – did you have a boner during our match?!”

“You and Claudio were – I had to – shut up!”

“Danny,” Wheeler says, “do you wanna get railed by Claudio?”

“No!”

The only other option hits Wheeler like a train. “Um. Do – do you want to –”

“Signal’s going out,” Danny says, “can’t hear you. Talk to you next week.”

Wheeler is left, baffled, staring at his cell phone. When the call closes, it goes back to the photo of Danny’s dick.

He allows himself to look at it, for real this time. “Goddamnit,” he mumbles. “This is the best dick I’ve ever seen.”

~

Full disclosure, this started as a HangMox fic, and then I realized that Mox isn't quite this much of a dumbass. But you know who is? Danny Garcia.

[stewardofningishzida]

Chapter 1: First Meeting

All right, guys. This is just for fun because it popped into my head and I wanted to amuse myself and maybe see where it goes. If someone likes it, maybe I’ll continue. If not, then eh. Since I’ve been a fan of Doctor Strange for a while, it might be funny to see/read what would happen if he landed here in our world. In this case, since I’m already a magnet for weirdness (please read my real life stories), he accidentally landed in my house. To avoid the whole “incursion” thing, let’s go with “this universe doesn’t actually have a Stephen Strange variant” or maybe “this universe has slightly different rules to it so an incursion wouldn’t really happen”. I’ll keep it ambiguous. Anyway, have fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *I’m browsing on the internet while sitting on my bed, half-asleep and bored out of my mind. Out of nowhere, I see a ring of golden sparks appear in front of my closet and look up, startled. Within 2 seconds, I’m on my feet and see a man fall through the portal onto my floor.*

Me: What the hell is this?! *I grab my replica of Sting from the wall and hold it threateningly.* Who are you and what do you want? You have 3 seconds to start explaining and it had better be good! *I’m trying to be intimidating just in case. He LOOKS like Doctor Strange and the portal was there a second ago, but things don’t work that way in this universe. So, how would this be possible. I’m silently questioning my sanity while trying to keep track of the potential home invader.*

*Stephen looks up at me, both confused and irritated by the experience. He gets up.* Stephen (sarcastic): Nice to meet you too. Where am I, exactly?

Me: Well, you’re sure as hell not supposed to be here. *I’m on the defensive.*

Stephen: First off, rude. Second, could you at least lower the movie prop? I’m not happy about this situation either.

Me: I will when you tell me who you are and what’s going on.

Stephen: Fine. I’m Doctor Stephen Strange and I just got shoved through an interdimensional portal by the guy I was fighting before I ended up in this mess.

*I stare at him, processing this. It looks like my brain is about to short-circuit.*

Me: H-How? Sorcery isn’t a thing here. You literally just broke the laws of physics…Okay…I’m clearly awake…So…Am I insane?

Stephen (snarky): I don’t know you, so it’s possible.

Me (glaring): Fine…Show me some more proof. Otherwise, I’m not going to believe some comic book character landed in my bedroom.

Stephen: Comic book character? *He gives me a weird look* Never mind. You want proof? Here. *He uses the Crimson Bands of Cittorak to grab one of my action figures across the room and drops it at my feet. I’m stunned into silence and lower my weapon.*

Me (small voice): Okay…

Stephen: Now will you tell me where I am?

Me: Y-Yeah…You’re not in your universe anymore. It’s still *an* Earth, though. Heck, you’re not even in New York either. *I explain where we are. Stephen listens.*

Stephen (sarcastic): Well, this has been fun, but I’ve got to get back to my world and deal with the latest unspeakable evil. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my…Shit…*He looks at his hand and feels around his robes.*

Me: Your Sling Ring’s gone?

Stephen: Yeah. I-How do you know about that?

Me: Told you. In our world, you’re a fictional character from a comic book. We even have movies about you and others. A lot of people have read about your life and adventures.

Stephen: …Somehow, it’s not the weirdest thing I’ve come across, but it’s definitely not a pleasant piece of news.

Me: So…What do we do, then?

Stephen: We?

Me: Well, it’s not like you can just waltz outside with your outfit, magic blazing. Plus, you probably don’t have any documentation or anything for this universe. So, you’d have to create a whole new existence here. You’re not on record or anything besides in the movies and comics.

*He sighs, defeated for the time being*

Stephen: Fine…I’ll have to think of something.

Me: Sure. Meanwhile, I guess you can stay here. It’s probably your safest bet until things can be sorted out.

Stephen (begrudgingly): Thanks.

Me: Maybe Wong will find you or something.

Stephen: Hope so. What’s your name again?

Me: Steward. (I’m just going by my tumblr name.)

Stephen: Thanks for your hospitality, Steward. I’ll try to make this stay brief.

Me: Just don’t blow up the neighborhood, okay?

~~To be continued?~~

[heckinconfusedparade]

Prompt movie Sonic gets a sword

Never let Sonic have an Amazon account. Not even EBay or Wish. He will find a way to impulsively spend his good boy grandma money on random things.

He saw that sword and went “oh that looks cool! Gimmie!” And a week later a package arrives for him on the doorstep while his parents weren’t home.

Sonic unboxes it, his brothers watching in anticipation for whatever their beloved blue bro spent his money and had shipped to their house this time.

The shiny case glistens in the attic light, begging to be opened. Sonic opens the case and finds the most beautiful silver sword, with a royal blue handle and golden linings. He carefully lifts it out of the case.

Tails and Knuckles stare in awe.

“Wait..Sonic? That’s not real, is it?” Tails asks, suddenly concerned.

Sonic laughs “no! I don’t think so!” Knuckles gives it a better look “SONIC THAT IS A REAL SWORD”

“what?? No..” the hedgehog in denial runs his fingertip on the blade, accidentally slicing his glove and a bit of his finger. He’s so glad he didn’t press harder, or that would’ve been a trip to the doctor for sure. He hisses in pain and takes his glove off “..well that hurt!”

Tails rushes to find a first aid kit. Knuckles is inspecting the injury “you stupid hedgehog look what you’ve done! You have to be more careful.”

“Chill out, Knux! I’m not dying!”

Tails returns with some bandages and wipes. Sonic patches himself up.

The sword is put back in its case.

For now.

Knuckles gets a text from his friends asking him to hang out. He goes to the door and puts his shoes on “I am going to meet my friends. Do not do anything stupid.”

“Ok!” Says Tails.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Sonic waves his brother off. Knuckles growls “Sonic I am serious.”

Sonic makes eye contact “yeah, I heard you! It’s gonna be ok.”

Knuckles leaves, unsure. He has a bad feeling.

That feeling was correct.

As soon as he’s out the door, Sonic is taking his sword back out. Tails snaps to look at Sonic “what are you doing?? He said not to do anything stupid!” “He’s not our mom! Or dad!” Sonic says handling his sword with much more care than he was before “hey Tails.. let’s set some things up in the backyard. Let’s see how powerful this thing is.”

Tails jumps at the opportunity for any experiment. He sets up hanging sheets of papers varying in density and toughness. He also sets up a couple dummies who have a clear soft shell protecting them to substitute flesh. Don’t ask where he got these.

Tails also gives Sonic some tougher gloves so he won’t hurt his hand again. Tails gets his clipboard to record his findings.

Sonic swipes at the thin paper. The cut is clean and had no resistance to the blade.

Then the medium density paper. Again, the cut is clean with no resistance. Sonic and Tails look at each other. This is impressive!

Then the dense paper. Clean cut, and very little resistance. Sonic looks towards the dummies. He wonders how this will affect him mentally. Oh well!

He slashes the first dummy. There’s resistance, but the blade cuts through the “flesh” easily. Sonic delivers a few more slashes, nearly beheading the thing, and making its chest look like a bear got to it.

Sonic exhales. So this is what a rage room feels like!

Tails tells Sonic to slash the second dummy while running.

Sonic charges at full speed, seining the blade.

The dummy is cut in half.

The brothers are in shock. “Sonic, you..” “TAILS I KILLED THE DUMMY.” “THATS WAY PAST COOL” “RIGHT??”

“SONIC!”

The brothers look at the gate. Knuckles stands there looking pissed.

Sonic gives a sheepish smile “uhh… h-howdy-doo, Knuckie-poo?”

“Sonic what did I tell you?”

“Not to be stupid? We weren’t being stupid. We were being smart and experimenting.”

Knuckles holds his temples. The sword is now taken away and put back in its case. Knuckles is going to hang onto it.

Tails and Sonic are upset the fun is over, but meh, it was fun while it lasted.

When Tom and Maddie come home, Sonic hands Tom his glove “dad, can you sew the finger back together please?”

“Sure. What happened?”

“I accidentally cut my glove with a sword.”

“you did W H A T-“

[digital-corruption]

Unrecognisable Part 57

“Maybe you got the wrong building,” Dan commented.

“No, this was definitely the place! I know it because we had come here before!” I exclaimed.

We were standing in the middle of the abandoned warehouse, the one that sat across from Cyan’s old hideout, the one that we watched the police raid from, the one I had followed Jake to the night before. Everything was the same as I remembered, except for the fact it was completely devoid of any crime. I spun around in circles looking for any evidence that either Jake or Richy had been there, but it was seemingly untouched.

“I don’t understand! I definitely followed Jake here last night and Richy was over there tied to a chair!” I pointed in the general direction where Richy had once sat.

Alan walked over and examined the ground for any evidence. “There’s no blood,” he shrugged. “Wait a second…” Alan crouched down and ran his fingers over the concrete surface. “Something was recently bolted here. There are fresh holes in the concrete.”

Like a flash, I suddenly remembered, “Richy’s feet!”

“His feet?” Dan looked at me confused.

“Jake had bolted his feet to the ground to keep him from escaping,” admitting that out loud was more difficult that I could have ever imagined.

“MC,” Alan frowned, obviously still struggling to accept not arresting him.

“We don’t know if that’s true,” Dr. Cumming interrupted.

“What, are you his lawyer or his doctor?” Dan glared at the doctor.

“I am just saying if Jake used heavy drugs on MC we don’t know for sure whether what she saw was real or a hallucination or a misinterpretation based on a series of suggestions,” the doctor explained. “No offense, MC.”

“None taken,” I shook my head.

“But that’s not really the sort of thing people just hallucinate, right?” Dan raised his eyebrow. “It had to come from something.”

“Oh sure, but she could have misinterpreted something someone said or how Richy behaved as if he actually had his feet bolted to the floor,” the doctor continued. “And truth be told, any lawyer assigned to Jake would tear MC’s testimony apart, should she appear in court that is.”

“He’s right,” Alan sighed. “Especially since MC was intended to be under the effects of a drug in the first place, a lawyer could argue that MC had been struggling to sleep at night so Jake gave her a sleeping aid that didn’t agree with her. Everything after that point could be considered nothing more than a very convincing dream. Especially with the lack of evidence in this building.”

“Yeah, but maybe he just cleaned it. Can’t you call in a team that do that sciencey stuff with the light to find blood,” Dan suggested.

“This isn’t my jurisdiction, Dan. I would need sufficient reason to convince my friend at the Colville PD to bring such an expensive resource out here and I’m not sure MC’s testimony will suffice when there’s no visible evidence and no… victim,” Alan rubbed his head.

“But we do have a victim,” I pointed out.

Alan winced, “He hasn’t been found yet. I can give it a try though. Who knows, maybe it’s a slow crime day in the city.” Alan pulled out his phone and walked to the side to make his phone call.

Suddenly my phone started ringing. Confused I pulled it out and saw <<???>> on my lock screen. My blood ran cold.

“It’s him,” my voice shook.

“MC, you don’t have to answer if you are not comfortable taking the call,” Dr. Cumming assured me.

“No, I’m good,” I nodded and pressed the accept button on my phone. Dan looked at me like he expected me to put it on speakerphone. I instead lifted the phone to my ear. “Hi.”

“Did you sleep well?” Jake asked with his voice modulator turned on.

“You know, my mind’s been foggy all day, but it’s becoming clearer as the day goes on,” I admitted, trying to contain the anger. “Where is he?”

“Last I saw him was this morning. He could be anywhere by now,” Jake said vaguely. “Let’s not waste time with that. Tell me what it is you want of me.”

“You know what that is. It’s time to accept the doctor’s offer,” I glanced over at Dr. Cumming, who nodded at me.

Jake laughed, “I have to admit I started to doubt whether you would still give me that option.”

“And if I didn’t?” I questioned.

“Let’s just say I’m not going to prison,” Jake answered ambigiously.

“You’ll come willingly then?” I asked.

“I will give you my current location. Know that any attempt at arresting me will likely lead to casualties. I surrender myself to you and to you only,” Jake dictated. “Tell Dan if he so much as touches me, I will break all of his fingers.”

“I will tell him,” I had to smile at the last request. “To be honest, I expected more of a fight out of you.”

“Losing you has hurt more than I care to admit,” he said solemnly. “To fight now would be pointless. It is either this or going into hiding again.”

“Well I am glad you’re putting a priority on your mental health rather than taking the coward’s way out,” I commented honestly. “I just wish you had thought of that before you drugged me and kidnapped Richy.”

“I had gifted you the luxury of ignorance. I knew your naïve sense of righteous would interfere with the justice I was going to deliver,” he explained.

“Maybe because it was wrong,” I narrowed my eyes. “And you knew it.”

“I don’t expect an angel to understand the work of a devil. It had to be done,” he insisted.

“Then why are you surrendering?” I questioned. “If you feel that you had to.”

“I do not deny that I wronged you. I cannot evade you. If I run, you will haunt my waking dreams,” he spoke quietly. “I surrender to you and accept your judgement.”

I closed my eyes and could see him kneeling before me in my mind, begging for forgiveness while still not acknowledging everything he had done wrong.

“We both know I am a monster,” he admitted.

“You sound like you would accept death,” I frowned.

“If that’s what you decide is best,” he said grimly.

“Death is too easy. No, you need to wake up to your wrongs and see them for what they are,” I gritted my teeth. “Psychiatric care is the only way you can get that clarity.”

“You think I can still be healed?” he asked.

“Now is not the time to be asking me that,” I bit my lip as I opened my eyes again.

“Understood. See you soon, angel,” Jake hung up before I could respond.

The others looked at me in an awkward silence as I considered what to say. “Well?” Dan pushed impatiently.

“He’s sending me his current location soon so we can pick him up,” I announced.

“You’re not serious,” Dan frowned. “That is most definitely, positively, one-hundred percent a trap!”

“I don’t think so,” Dr. Cumming interrupted. “During my few sessions with Jake I found he is quite remorseful. What’s more, his utmost concern is of MC’s wellbeing. He recognises that he is a danger to her, but he considers his pursuers to be a greater threat of which he feels he’s the only one that can protect her from them. If he says he’s willing to surrender, then I believe him. He would not make that decision lightly.”

“Really? He revealed that much to you?” I asked surprised.

“Oh, there is a fair amount of reading between the lines when it comes to Jake, or I suppose in this case, listening between the phrases? In any case, he is highly defensive of what he considers are his weaknesses, which makes them easier to spot. You just need to look for distractions and deflections,” Dr. Cumming explained.

“Huh?” Dan looked at him confused.

“Jake doesn’t like talking about his past killings,” Dr. Cumming responded plainly for Dan.

“Wait, why are we not arresting him?” Dan frowned.

“Because all of those killings were done during a heightened state of fear for self-preservation. In his eyes it was always kill or be killed. It’s really no different to my patients with combat PTSD,” Dr. Cumming continued. “However, unlike our soldiers returning home from combat, Jake is still at war.”

“You did not just compare him to our nation’s heroes,” Dan glared.

“Isn’t he though? Does he not fight for the individual’s freedoms and rights?” the doctor questioned.

“He does so with bombs and guns!” Dan objected.

“So do our soldiers,” the doctor pointed out. “I am not saying each killing was justified or within reasonable grounds for self-defence. Just that Jake perceived no other option available for survival, his or MC’s. Not a single killing was made for malicious reasons.”

“He told me he enjoyed killing,” I commented.

“He loves the thrill of the battle and the feeling of victory, which he confuses for a love of killing. If a person poses no threat to him, he feels no joy in taking their life and is unlikely to waste the time or energy to kill them. He is quite capable of rendering a person unconscious,” Dr. Cumming detailed.

“Or he just didn’t tell you about the ones he killed for pleasure,” Dan proposed.

“How does Richy fit in?” I ignored Dan.

“In his eyes Richy had escaped his just punishment. Jake had a hard time coping with his parole. He honestly felt a deranged monster was being let loose on the streets,” Dr. Cumming replied.

“He’s not alone in that,” Dan interjected.

“I suspect he felt he was both protecting MC and delivering a more adequate punishment,” Dr. Cumming continued. “It is certainly a line I would have rather not seen crossed. This means he is jumping from being reactive to becoming proactive in his perceived sense of self-defence.”

“Does that change our agreement?” I asked.

“No, not at the moment,” Dr. Cumming shook his head. “Richy was a bit of an exception given their past. No matter the breadth of Richy’s remorse for what occurred, Jake sees him as an aggressor who may still try to complete his failed objectives.”

My phone beeped in my hand. I looked down and saw that Jake had sent me his location. It was only a few blocks away, “Ok, I received his location.”

“What location?” Alan questioned as he finally rejoined the group.

“Jake is surrendering to MC. I’ll have my staff ready to pick him up,” Dr. Cumming filled Alan in roughly.

“Tell them to bring your best straight jacket,” Dan joked.

“I rather hope it doesn’t come to that. Still we must be cautious and approach him overtly. Any attempt at subterfuge may result in drastic defensive action,” Dr. Cumming warned.

“I’ll take the lead,” I confirmed.

“No, you won’t,” Dan glared.

“For once, I am actually with Dan on this one,” Alan sighed. “Sorry, doctor, but I’ve seen far too many people suffering psychotic breaks decide to take themselves and their loved ones out in a final act of defiance.”

“Yeah and I actually know Jake and what he’s capable of. There will most definitely be traps set for anyone other than me,” I folded my arms, unimpressed by the men’s attempt of chivalry.

“How did he sound on the phone?” Dr. Cumming asked.

“I don’t know. He wasn’t angry or anything. More like he expected it. Surprised even that your offer was still on the table,” I replied honestly.

“He’s accepted whatever fate you’ve chosen for him,” Dr. Cumming nodded. “I recommend MC takes the lead. She is the only one he genuinely trusts. She is the only one he’ll surrender to.”

“By all means, doctor, I don’t know if I trust your judgement given his breakdown began curiously after he started seeing you,” Alan frowned.

“Is that what you think? No, I was trying to calm an already developing breakdown. If my advice had been followed, he would already be in my facility,” Dr. Cumming defended.

“Dr. Cumming is right,” I sighed.

“Just because someone yells fire doesn’t mean they didn’t start it,” Alan commented.

“Do you know how often we in the medical profession are blamed for causing underlying conditions simply for diagnosing them?” Dr. Cumming said unamused.

“Is it just me or is it getting tense in here?” Dan whispered to me.

“I wouldn’t know, doctor. I only hear of the times people in the medical profession get a diagnosis so incredibly wrong and it’s cost an innocent their life,” Alan folded his arms.

“Well let me put it this way. I have the location. You all don’t have the location. Either I take the lead or you don’t get the location,” I said decisively.

Alan shrugged, “You know how to drive a hard bargain, MC, but know I could have you followed.”

“Yes, but my threat sounded… threatening, didn’t it?” I mused.

“You had me convinced,” Dan smirked. “But I’m going to be right behind you.”

“No, Dan, you’re going to stay out of my line of fire,” Alan frowned.

“Wait what? Don’t sideline me, coach!” Dan objected.

“Jake did warn me that if you touched him he would break all your fingers,” I giggled.

“I still need my rematch with that cockroach!” Dan exclaimed.

“Dan, you will help cover any back exits,” Alan commanded.

“Look at that! Sidelined!” Dan said dramatically.

“Alright, Alan, Dr. Cumming, I’m forwarding the location to you now,” I announced. “Let’s bring in Jake.”

[starlightshadowsworld]

Okay quick question about Behind the Hockey Mask, how come Angle hasn't told anybody about her dad? Did Casey tell her not to, or did she learn not to tell?

The reason Angel hasn't told is mostly for the reasons Casey's never told anyone.

Both of them are used to this.

Angel was 2 when her mother died, now she's 7.

She doesn't remember life being any different.

To Angel her dad is sick.

That's what Casey believes and told her.

This what happens when dad is sick.

If anyone asks about him that's what she says.

Do people have speculations, especially say teachers when Casey goes to her parents evenings and school plays and is the one to pick her up?

Absolutely.

But Angel doesn't have so much as a scratch on her.

Arnold has never hurt his daughter.

And so their is no proof.

Casey has tried his best to sheild her from knowing about any of this.

But she knows.

But it's what happens sometimes when dad is sick.

He gets confused.

He gets angry.

She has to let him rest.

But... Their have been occasions when Casey has gotten hurt and Angel has witnessed it.

She froze.

A bloodsoaked Casey crawled over and held her in his arms.

Hushing her, rocking her in his arms that it's okay it's okay.

She's scared for him and no your hurt Casey... Dad hurt you.

And Casey smiles, he's missing a tooth and kisses her head that "dad's having a bad day today, but he's okay now."

"Are you okay?"

"I've got you hear Angel cake, your all I need." He says with a pained smile, using his non bloody hand to ruffle her hair.

"But you can't tell anyone about how sick dad is okay? That he gets like that."

"But why? Than they get dad to a doctors, that's where you go when your poorly and than you won't get hurt anymore."

"Your a real smart cookie aren't you? But, if that happens they'll take us away from each other. You'll have to go live with some other family, dad will be sent somewhere we can't find him and I'll be off somewhere else."

Grabby hands clench his hoodie.

"No!"

"So I need you to promise me you won't tell anyone."

"... Even Mr hippo?"

"Heh, okay you can tell him but no one else. And keep an eye on Mr hippo, I've seen him talk to Lady Jezebel at tea parties he loves to gossip."

Giggles "okay, I pinky promise."

I imagine the day the turtles find out, Angel grabs Casey's phone and calls April for help.

Because she's scared.

Because she doesn't know what to do because her brother isn't moving and her dad's left and Mrs Smith down the hall is out.

And she's met April, April's kind and sweet and makes Casey smile and he calls her Red and there best friends.

And friends help friends, right?

"Casey! Please tell me you changed your mind and are coming to movie night."

"...."

"Mikey wants you to know he even bought mint chocolate ice creams just for you."

"... I..."

"Casey? You there?"

"April...I'm Angel"

"Angel? Hey, what a suprise... Hey, hey what's wrong?"

"He won't wake up."

"Who won't wake up?"

"Casey. He won't get up and he's hurt and dad went out and I don't... Crying"

"Angel, where are you?"

"His room"

"Okay, okay I'm coming as fast as I can okay. You stay with him, is Casey breathing?"

"Y-yeah, your really coming?"

"Sure am"

She sees the others all getting up, no words are needed.

"I'm gonna bring some friends too. But he's going to be okay, I'm going to make sure of it."

"Please hurry."

[thegeminisage]

tng update time, brief because i am BUSY. two nights ago we caught "contagion" together, yesterday i watched "the royale" on my own, and just now i finished "time squared."

contagion: don't know why this one was recced by so amny people because it was VERY boring. because it had romulans in it? it's not even unwatchably bad or anything, i just...didn't care

did like that the romulan commander was a woman though. just like the enterprise incident. where's spock when you need him

the archaeology angle was stupid. "oooh i have to go i've been studying them since i was a lad" you literally do not have to go "well china was thought to be only a myth until marco polo traveled there" bitch, not to the fucking chinese. get a grip.

the fakeout data death...girl we know he's going to be fine! i did like him throwing geordi around though he made the little faces <3 and i was very proud of him for continuing to work when he had a little computer virus. aw. maybe less glad that picard didn't give him any extra priase for doing so but whatever we can't have high expectations for this ep

anyway it was all just very overly contrived. and i was bored.

the royale: this had a great setup because i love when star trek talks about nasa. that made me really excited for what turned out to ultimately be a holodeck episode

played this one on 2x speed genuinely (my deepest dishonor - bad ones get 1.25x, really bad ones get 1.5x, and horrible ones alone get 2x speed)

like, if you changed it a little, you could say the holodeck is broken and won't let you out until you pretend to be investors and win big in the casino! it's the same thing. i guess they didn't want people thinking the holodeck was dangerous and unreliable, which it is

anyway, i liked data blowing on the dice. that was all though

time squared: this one blew my tits clean off. amazing. 10/10. it's like the immunity syndrome, enemy within, and doomsday machine had a time traveling baby

there is like a little bit of time travel technobabble that makes no sense whatsoever. and i did get the final twist spoiled for me. but it doesn't MATTER. neither of those things mattered because i was still sitting there with my jaw on the ground after the end

like, one website called this one confusing. sure yeah a little bit. they were playing very fast and loose with both their own rules established in the episode and the greater rules of the franchise as a whole. but the point is the character arc

like. picard sees himself make a decision that will destroy his ship. he sees himself fail utterly to do everything he holds sacred - he did not even GO DOWN with his ship. he is facing a matt decker doomsday machine of a situation. remember when kirk pitied matt decker because he saw his whole crew die and was helpless to stop it but was also a little put off by him because he couldn't possibly imagine himself in that situation? but with picard IT IS himself. it's green shirt john crichton and black shirt john crichton. they're BOTH the real picard but one of them has been through something unimaginably horrible

AND WHEN THAT PICARD. ENDANGERS THE SHIP. like. IN COLD BLOOD our picard chooses to kill him. and in my personal interpretation he thinks of it as mercy. but like he still shot him while looking directly at him and NO ONE knows what he did because he DIDNT TELL THEM except he called the fucking doctor for some reason

like at the end he's just staring out of a window. and riker is like hi im here to let you talk about it! and picard doesn't talk about it and riker goes away and in the end he is just staring out of the fucking window and they just ROLL CREDITS a real "anyway! these are the voyages of the starship enterprise" of a situation aka what i always loved about tos episodes (honorific)

i THINK this is a cross-section of drag me to hell and there was no laugh track but further contemplation required. straight banger i fucking loved it

i still have to do "the icaurs factor" and "pen pals" alone, but then we get to do "q who" together WHICH IS THE BORG EPISODE i cannot wait. nobody tell me ANYTHING.