#timeline fanfic

[theothershin]

Timeline was supposed to be a tiny little project, in and out no problem. But of course this has been going on for months and while I struggle to navigate my shifting teenage interests and focus on one thing(yes I'm a teen so what), alongside graduating, spirituality, and academics, this project is just not growing on me.

When I come back to the prologue, the one with Tyler in jail with his cellie Luke Freman(who, fun fact, was actually framed for killing his son), I always feel so proud of what I've achieved(abundant kudos to @lambjock, who advised me when I was stuck and pushed me towards this beautiful prologue). So much research went into that thing, and I loved doing the research and putting it together, and, not to toot my own horn, but I just love how it's written. But the chapters after that, with chapter one being okay and chapter two(already published) + chapter 3(in my garbage can) being a descent into madness(maybe an exaggeration, but they're no Timeline Prologue), I just right about descend right into stress and murderous garbagery, a taunting mockery of the skill I try to pride myself in.

There are about ten days until I graduate, starting after the weekend, and sure, I can take a break and come back when it's done, but it's taken up so much of my time and consumed my desire to write it, it's taken up the space of works I really did want to write. And when I look at Timeline, I think, ugh, subconsciously. Like I genuinely wish I wanted to write it more than I don't, but that's not how it was. I wish I fit in amongst those of you who love ADF way more than I do.

I won't make this a mental health recollection or what have you, but I am going to say, I won't be writing Timeline. I'm done with it, finished. Sorry. I honestly don't know what to say to apologise, but what I feel is mounds of regret. Sorry to myself and sorry to you all.

This isn't only to drag you all down to my levels of misery, though, because despite the fact that I know I'm a terrible writer and person in terms of actually getting something done, but there's an idea in the back of my brain that I'm going to explore, something to do with the messed-up Arizonian prison systems, sociopathic guards, and Tyler and Mr. Freman themselves. Now, there's this other project I'm clinging onto, and hopefully with literally nothing else to do(or stress about), I'll get to enjoy writing it. Then, years later, when I'm satisfied with it for the time being, I'll come back here.

More on that some other eternity.

In the time being... see you all some other century?

[chatonfils]

Starting off by saying I hate “mom Danny” bc it tends to be p transphobic and misgendering, so if anyone adds it to my post I’m blocking them.

Tim making his Kon clone baby, but the cloning chamber isn’t stable enough for the fetus. He’s desperately trying anything that he think might work, when he comes across Phantom. Phantom who has experience with stabilizing clones.

Danny had heard whispers through the grapevine (Ellie who’d joined the Teen Titans as Phantasm) that there was someone attempting to make clones. He’d only meant to snoop and see if it was a Vlad situation. If any clones had been made and needed liberating. What he found was a newly minted Red Robin crying over a red blinking message on a cloning chamber. He warbled a quiet “please, Kon, I don’t want to live without you.”

Danny quickly realizing this wasn’t an attempt to replace and destroy, but actually someone grieving, in probably an unhealthy way, but who was Danny to judge, he’d once replaced Sam and Tucker with robots for less. So he decided to help Red Robin out. Sure, he hadn’t dealt with kryptonian dna before, but he was at least 89% sure halfa dna was way more complicated. And Red Robin had already figured out ways around the dna shenanigans, it was just the stability that wasn’t going well. Honestly, he didn’t think it would be as easy as an ecto dejecto like it had been for Ellie. But his parents had a lot of inventions that they’d started making to help out ghosts, once they’d realized Danny was Phantom. Maybe telling Red Robin about ghost IVF wasn’t his most thought through plan.

“I think what might help is an incubator.” Phantom had suggested.

Tim could only gesture at the cloning chambers that had failed him thus far. They were essentially huge incubators.

Phantom awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “I meant, like, a living incubator. Like a surrogate.”

“Where am I going to find someone that I not only trust to carry the baby, but also would volunteer?” Tim raised an eyebrow at him. Hell, had Tim had the equipment to do so, he would have carried the baby, everything else be damned. He just didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Phantom blushed green and looked away. “It might take a little tinkering with the embryos to work with the physiology, but…. I could carry the baby for you. I mean, I’m trans, and even if I wasn’t, ghosts are kind of malleable in a reproductive sense. And there are options for IVF in ghost science. And like, my own clone is like my little sister. I’m also a protection spirit, so I would protect the baby with my entire afterlife. And I’m kind of rambling so you should say something before I embarrass myself.”

“You would be willing to carry a baby for me?” Tim was shell shocked by the offer.

“I mean, yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not cloning him for a malicious reason. You’re just trying to bring back a piece of your friend because you love and miss him. Dedication that strong for someone who has left the living plain, is admirable. You realized early on that you wouldn’t be able to increase the speed in which the clone grew. You’ve been trying despite knowing that this clone will be a baby that’s going to be your child, and not just the friend you lost. And I wouldn’t mind giving up my body for a little bit so you can make your family.”

Tim certainly hadn’t meant to surge forward and kiss Phantom. “Thank you.” Tim pulled Phantom into a fierce hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

It took about a month for them to work out the kinks of making the baby safe for Danny’s body. In this time, Danny showing Red Robin his human form, and Tim revealing his own identity. It felt kind of wrong to keep his name from someone he intended to get pregnant with his child. Tim and Danny got close as they worked together on the baby. And there may have been a few more kisses shared between them. In the end, the baby ended up spliced with mostly Kon’s dna, some of Tim’s (to stabilize the kryptonian dna), and some of Danny’s (to keep the baby safe in the womb).

Once Danny was well and truly pregnant, he encouraged Tim to find Bruce. “I’ll keep the baby safe. You find your dad. If you need me for anything, I’m only a call away.” Tim hadn’t forgotten about Bruce, he’d just never thought it would take so long to set up cloning Kon. So much of his hurt and loneliness had fallen away in Danny’s presence, and Danny had let him hyper focus on making their baby.

“Probably terrible timing, but I’ve got to ask,” Tim swallowed nervously. “Be my boyfriend?”

Danny’s lopsided smile, thawed Tim’s nerves. “I think I could work with that. I hope you don’t mind kids though, I’m kind of pregnant.”

Tim huffed a laugh. “I’ll keep in touch while I’m away. Please keep me updated on the baby.”

Danny pulled him into a proper kiss, “I will.”

I’m mostly imagining Tim getting bump update photos and falling in love with his increasingly pregnant boyfriend, while he finds Bruce.

I’m also imagining after Bruce is back, Tim being like, “anyways gtg, my boyfriend is in his third trimester and I don’t want to miss the birth of our baby.” And peacing out before any bats could react, let alone stop him.

And also maybe when Kon comes back, there’s maybe a poly relationship started.

Also thinking about Tim getting Danny pregnant without the science.

Danny gets Dad, Tim gets Papa, and if Kon joins, he gets Poppy.

[fluffyartbl0g]

Holy crap this is like world record breaking pace guys

Speedrun/Time Travel AU masterlist

[delsinsfire]

Gee Powder, how come this universe lets you have TWO dads?

[mulchwave]

I've been stressed out of my gourd so The Silliness Must Intensify, therefore behold my fanart of lupin iii fanfic, Supermassive Retinol Overdose! by @crimetimesteadicam, a fic i really cannot recommend enough

[literaila]

I seriously love the relationship between Megumi and reader. He is in fact, a mama's boy lol

But Dadgojo and Megumi moments are cute as hell too

So herw you go a small oneshot: Little Megs would always go to reader's or Tsumiki's bedroom when he has nightmares. He already trusts you enough to see him vulnerable and goes to seek for your protection, and of course you never complain and comfort him.

But this time is different. He had a nightmare and you were on a mission and Tsumiki is staying at a friend's house.

There is only one person left in the house: Gojo.

So, with the greatest shame and irritation in the world at having to depend on his annoying and childish dad, he goes to Gojo's room because at moments like these he can't stand being alone. So he eats his shame and goes to seek for him.

You can imagine reader's surprise when she comes back home in the morning and finds Satoru and your son cuddling together on the bed, Megumi's hold on Gojo's shirt tight as both sleep peacefully.

You swear you are not like Satoru, but you can't help it but to pick up the phone and take thousands of pictures of this rare moment, knowing it wont happen again (because Megumi won't do it twice after Satoru didn't stop mocking him about it.)

honestly you might as well just write the series for me. like do you wanna look in my inbox? you can write all of the one shots currently rotting away (i’m not asking im pleading)

this is so correct though.

megumi’s just not used to not having you home. when this arrangement first began you took some time off, let satoru handle everything (as per usual) so you could take care of the kids. adapt.

when you resume your former busy schedule, both of the kids are slightly thrown off. and satoru too—because he misses you. he’s known the caress of your absence and isn’t fond of the feeling.

and now it’s megumi’s turn.

but the boy doesn’t start having serious nightmares till around seven or eight (despite the…lack of an upbringing, the rotting apartment and cuddling with tsumiki in bed so neither of them froze in their sleep).

when it happens the first time, he sits there, waiting for some answer to come. he’s a quiet, stoic kid—and he doesn’t get scared. he’s not like his soft, kind sister. he doesn’t even flinch when others would jump.

he lays there until he falls asleep again. and he won’t mention it. megumi doesn’t need to worry you or satoru (mostly you) with this.

then it happens a second time.

this time he’s woken up on the verge of tears—already passed that breaking point—and he can’t stay in bed. he can’t lay there and recall images of monsters no child should understand.

so he gets out of bed—but just for a glass of water. he’s still not scared.

though it just so happens that you’re already in the kitchen when he gets there, and it just so happens that you know things about him—just because you know—so there’s nothing he can do to hide any of it.

still, you’ll only tilt your head at him, giving him a half-sleepy smile. “hey, megs. you okay?”

“i’m thirsty.”

so you get him his glass of water and you watch while he takes tentative sips.

again, somehow you just know. the same way that megumi knows that you know.

“are you having a hard time sleeping?” you ask him, after a minute of silence.

megumi shakes his head on instinct.

you’re still smiling. “bad dreams?”

and he could lie—he’s so very used to lying about things like this. megumi doesn’t want people to see him as this little boy who needs their help. he wants an equal playing field, and he doesn’t want to be scared.

but he is.

and when it comes to you, and only you, megumi is a terrible liar.

so he nods, and your smile remains—sure as always.

“i get ‘em too,” you whisper to him. “even when i was a kid. especially then.”

“you do?”

“yup. all the time.”

“what…” megumi furrows his brows. “what do you do?”

“hmm…” you go and stand beside him at the counter, leaning your chin on a hand. “well, it depends on the dream. sometimes they’re… smaller. and i can usually sleep through those ones, but i always remember them in the morning.”

megumi nods; he has all sorts of dreams.

dreams of running around with tsumiki, of going on missions with gojo. he dreams of you in the kitchen, you telling him to keep going. and he dreams of the dark. of a house that could never be a home.

he dreams of being all alone, and when he wakes up, it feels so real that he can’t help it.

he begins to believe that it’s true.

“when i have bigger ones, though, that i can’t sleep though… well, usually i just wake satoru up.”

megumi frowns. “why?”

“he’s so irritating that i forget all about the dream.”

“oh. yeah.”

you laugh. “or i just ask him for a hug. he always says yes. or i wake him up and we steal a car and drive around for a bit,” you add, almost absentmindedly.

megumi blinks, about to interrupt, but you continue.

“sometimes i just lay in bed until i fall back asleep. or i get up and do something else—get some water,” you give him a pointed look, “so that it feels less real.”

“does it work?”

“most of the time,” you answer, so softly. and you’re right there next to him, still smiling. “wanna watch a movie or something? i’ll let you pick.”

megumi frowns. you don’t like to let them stay up late (despite satoru’s many attempts to go out for gas station ice cream at three in the morning). “really?”

“sure.”

and you sit with him on the couch, not cuddling, but close enough.

megumi listens to you laugh at the random movie he put on—something tsumiki likes—and it feels a little bit better. he feels a little less alone.

and later on, just when he’s falling back to sleep, almost slumping on you, you’ll whisper to him: “the thing about nightmares, megumi,” your hand is in his hair and your voice is almost a lullaby. “is that you can always wake up.”

so megumi gets in the habit of looking for you when he’s had a nightmare—the bad ones, like you mentioned. he doesn’t ask you for a hug, or ask you to sit with him, but you do anyway.

and somehow the two of you will end up on the couch, or in his bed, so close together that megumi can’t have another bad dream (because he’s suffocating).

but on this night—the one night where you’re not home—megumi isn’t sure what to do.

because he doesn’t want to be alone. he doesn’t want to feel trapped in his room, and there’s no way he’s falling back asleep now, and why did he forget that you weren’t going to be home tonight, and—

“psst,” a voice says, a little bit amused. “why are you awake, kid?”

almost immediately megumi straightens. his arms cross like it’s a habit. and when he looks to gojo, he’s already expecting the grin. “why are you?”

“i was calling y/n. or she was calling me. it’s hard to be away from me, you know,” gojo is sprawled out on the couch, taking megumi’s spot.

“it can’t be that hard.”

gojo shakes his head, pouting. “are you awake because the guilt from all of the cruel things you say is keeping you up?”

megumi rolls his eyes. says a curt: “no,” and then pauses.

if you’re not here then what…

“what else could it be?”

“nothing,” megumi answers, immediately defensive.

gojo purses his lips, considering megumi. “why do you look weird?”

“why do you?”

“is that the only insult you’ve got?”

and finally, the boy gives in. he steps over to the couch, sitting down next to gojo (ten feet away) with his arms still crossed. “it’s late.”

“that’s no excuse, young fushiguro.”

they both sit there for a moment, staring off.

then gojo speaks up: “you know y/n would kill you if she knew you were awake, right?”

“no. she would kill you.”

“that’s…” gojo huffs. “true.”

at this, megumi lets out a grunt—it could be a laugh, could be a cough.

he doesn’t want to tell gojo about the dreams, he decides. because he doesn’t want to be ridiculed, and he doesn’t want gojo to tell you and then—

he’s not even scared. you’re gone, tsumiki is sleeping, and gojo is… staring at him.

“are you going to answer my question?”

megumi merely grunts again.

“c’mon, don’t make this awkward.”

“can’t. you already have.”

gojo scoffs, leaning back again, crossing his arms in a poor mimic. “we’ve been letting nanami watch you too much,” he says, but continues. “fine. don’t tell me. i can call y/n back right now and you can talk to—“

“no,” megumi looks over to him, wide eyes.

“then speak, kid.”

he sighs, annoyed. at least you’re right about one thing. it takes a moment, but megumi relents because he has to. “i had a bad dream.”

gojo’s face goes slack. “oh.”

megumi feels like crawling into himself, for just a moment, and then: “do you want to talk about it?”

blue eyes meet blue, and megumi frowns. “what?”

“do you want to talk about it?” gojo repeats, but… weirdly, this time. awkwardly.

“um..” is all the boy says, feeling like he should move away. like to his room away. like he should probably find someone else to live with, a random stranger, even, because that would be easier.

“i don’t know, okay?” gojo blurts out, like it was killing him not to. “that’s just what y/n asks me when i have a nightmare.”

“you have nightmares?”

gojo is running his hands through his hair, looking like he’s about to go on a tangent. but when megumi asks his question, gojo pauses. he gives megumi a look. “doesn’t everyone?”

megumi scowls. “i don’t know.”

“huh. well, i have them. sometimes.”

“and you tell y/n?”

gojo snorts, shaking his head. “there’s no telling y/n anything. she just—“

“knows.”

gojo nods, giving megumi a small wink that makes the little boy want to throw up.

“so…” gojo taps his fingers on the couch. “do you want to talk about it?”

“why would i want to talk about it with you?”

“well you came out into the living room looking all… surly.”

“surly?” megumi repeats, with a face.

“down. upset. sad.”

“i’m not sad.”

“people who aren’t sad don’t need to deny that they’re sad.”

“y/n isn’t here,” megumi says, shaking his head. “i could hit you and be fine.”

gojo laughs, again, relaxing once more. because the man cannot be serious for any longer than three minutes. it’s biologically impossible. “i’d like to see you try,” he whispers, and it’s just enough.

megumi falls asleep on the couch that night. he spends another half hour arguing with gojo about whatever he says—forgetting about his dream, the reason for coming into the living room in the first place.

and when you get home, you open the door to the sight of two boys, both drooling.

megumi has his head pressed against satoru’s shoulder, hair smushed against his face. satoru is crossing his arms, face tilted towards the ceiling as he snores.

…it’s pretty obvious what happens next.

[samandcolbyownme]

Could you do the one bed trope and make it so smutty even god satan would blush if he read it 😈

Timeline | Zach Justice

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, swearing, unprotected sex, hair pulling, choking, biting, scratching, teasing, oral (both), squirting, creampie, consented picture taking, Zach being Zach, jokes, some fluff and heavy filth

Enjoy!

１１：３４ ＰＭ

You were excited to join Tara on the East coast for her live Dropout shows.

You weren’t excited about always being in close proximity with Zach. He just got under your skin and annoyed you in all the wrong ways, and he fed off of that.

Always getting you going to the point you end up bitching at him, rolling your eyes and shaking your head when he hits on you.

Although, you did find yourself liking him the longer you were around him, and it was getting harder for you to deny that you thought Zach was attractive - because come on, just looking at him is enough to make anyone wet.

“Do you want me to take your bags?”

You look at Zach confused, “Um, no. Why?”

He furrows his brows and then sighs, “Oohh, right yeah. Okay.” He looks around before he looks at you, “You were left the odd man out, so you’re with me for the night.”

Your arms drop limp at your sides, “You waited.. until now to tell me?”

You turn and look at Tara and she raises her brows, giving you a, you’re welcome, bitch, look because you drunkenly admitted one night that you thought Zach looked good, so she took it and ran with it.

A little too far, you thought.

But you were tired. You flew all day, you just wanted do shower and go to bed.

“Fine. Here.” You give you bags to Zach and he smirks, “Dibs on the bed.”

“Ooo.” You press your lips together, “Fuck you.”

He shrugs, “Hey, catch me at the right time and I’m open to anything.”

You roll your eyes, fighting back a smirk, “Why are we stuck on this side of the hotel?” You ask as you step onto the elevator.

Zach shrugs, “I think these are the only ones they had in a row, ours starts a new floor.”

“That’s weird.” You shake hour head, “Whatever. I’m tired. I call dibs on getting a shower first.”

“We could just get a shower together.” He smirks and you roll your eyes, “You say that to every girl.”

The doors to the elevator open with a ding and Zach shrugs, “Would it make a difference if I told you I made Tara put you with me?”

You scoff, looking over at him, “Why? You think I hate you.”

“Do you?” Zach asks as he unlocks the door. You swallow as he looks back at you and you laugh, “Well, I don’t, love you.”

Yes I do, You think as you walk in, turning around to wait for him to set down your bags. The door closes behind him and he looks down, “Oh, I think you do.”

Fuck.

You go to take your bag, but he holds onto it and you huff, “I swear to god Zach. Just let me go-“

You stop, biting down on the inside of your cheek as you purse your lips, “Fine. If you want to play this game. Two can play.”

He shakes his head, giving you a confused look until you slip your sweatshirt up over your head, revealing your bare chest and skin Zach has only ever dreamed of seeing.

“Did I finally shut the Zach Justice up? Wow.” You tease as you walk to the bathroom, “That wasn’t an invite by the way.”

You leave him out there speechless as you close the bathroom door fully before you go turn the shower on to allow the water heat up as you take off the rest of your clothes.

You get in, allowing the hot water to wash over your body and you can’t help but let out slight groan.

After flying all day, this felt so good.

And you were going to sleep in that bed, too.

１１：５４ ＰＭ

As you finished up, you turned the water off and opened up the door. You reached out grabbing the towel and drying off some before stepping out.

You slipped the robe on from the back of the door and twisted your hair up in the towel before walking out, “Shower is free.”

Zach looks up from the chair and nods.

You can’t help but smirk, “hm.”

“What.” Zach snaps as he walks by, stopping right behind you. You glance over your shoulder, “Nothing, it’s just so weird when you’re not running your mouth. I mean.”

You turn around, looking up at him, “It’s soo peaceful, don’t get me wrong but still.. weird.”

He rolls his eyes, “Mm, well maybe if I wasn’t distracted by figuring out what that whole ordeal before your shower was.”

You shrug, “You continuously get under my skin.. I wanted to have a turn for once.”

You turn around, bending down to dig your pajamas out of your suit case. Zach watches as you stand back up, shaking his head as he turns to walk towards the bathroom.

You turned around, staring in the direction of the bathroom wondering to yourself why that didn’t get him to touch you.

Even when you said it wasn’t an invitation, it really was and he should have known that, well. To you at least.

You roll your eyes, undoing your robe before you take your hair out of the towel. You bend down, pulling a pair of lace panties up your legs before taking off your robe and replacing it with an oversized tee.

You set your towels on the floor and grabbed the tv remote before crawling into the bed.

As you were clicking through the channels, Zach comes out from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist as he stares at you. You glance over at him and you don’t realize you’re staring at first, but how could you not.

His hair still wet and slightly dripping down onto his skin that was still hot, he had steam rolling off of him.

He smirks and you blinked a few times, looking back at the tv, “It’s a big bed, Justice. You can share for one night.”

You hear him chuckle, which causes a smirk to raise the corners of your lips. You clenched your jaw as you notice Zach drop his towel in your peripheral vision, “Mm I see. Taking notes from the better player huh.”

He pulls up his shorts and turns around, flicking the light off as he walks over to the other side of the bed, “You seemed to enjoy it, might as well see what the hype was all about.”

He pulls the blankets back and gets in, moving down to get comfortable.

“Uh huh. Okay.” You reach over, your shirt riding up as you set the tv remote down. Zach glances over, catching sight of the slight lace sticking out and he fights back a groan as he looks away when you lean back over.

１２：１０ ＡＭ

You let out a sigh as you cuddle up into the bed, facing away from him, “Goodnight, Zach.”

Zach keeps his eyes on you for a few seconds, and you can feel it, “Mm, goodnight, sweetheart.”

Your stomach does the little flip and all you can think about is how he is right fucking there.

No, no.

At this point, you’re in a game of cat and mouse, basically waiting to see who cracks first.

You lay there, pretending like you’ve fallen asleep until you actually do doze off.

１２：４７ ＡＭ

Zach laid there, staring at the back of your head while he half listened to the tv in the background.

He wanted to so badly move over and pull you away from the edge of the bed and into his chest, and even though you wanted him to, he still didn’t know that.

His mind kept bouncing back and forth at how you acted before your shower and getting into bed with him, especially dressed like that.

He let out a quiet sigh and moved a few inches across the king sized bed towards you before closing his eyes and falling asleep.

０２：２６ ＡＭ

You lift your head, looking around slightly confused before you turn your head the other way, catching glimpse of a, slightly closer Zach, snoring quietly in the tv light.

You bite your lip, moving just a tad bit closer to him, shuffling the blankets around your body before you fall back to sleep.

０３：０９ ＡＭ

Your eyes fluttered open, moving around the darkness of the hotel room.

You could tell Zach was closer to you, but you couldn’t tell how close. You slowly rolled over, reaching over to blindly feel around for the tv remote.

As soon as it’s in your grasp, you move to switch the tv back on. Your head snaps over at Zach who starts to stir around, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You whisper, reaching over to set the remote back on the nightstand, “I can’t sleep without tv, I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine, sweetheart.” He mumbles in a sleep yet sexy raspy tone that makes your heart flutter.

You nod, even though he can’t see you, in response and try to subtly move back down to get comfortable.

After tossing and turning for a minute or two, Zach shifts around and lays on his side to face you, his arm stretches out over your thighs, “C’mere.”

You stare at him for a few seconds and he opens his eyes, squinting one of them to block out the bright white light from the tv, “Am I going to have to drag you over here?”

You shake your head, scooting over to slip in against his body.

Your back to his chest.

His arm resting under your head as his other arm lays over your waist, securing you against him and it’s not long before he’s back to snoring softly.

０３：３２ ＡＭ

Your eyes move over the city lights out the window, once again. You move your head, letting out a sigh as you try to sleep again.

For the last 20 minutes or so, you’ve been unable to sleep. One thing on your mind and you were now itching to get it.

You bit down on the inside of your lip as your hips slowly moved back to grind against Zach’s crotch.

Nothing.

You pouted slightly as you decided to give it another go, this time a little bit harder.

No response.

You pushed your ass against his crotch once more, rolling slightly until you felt his cock rest perfectly on the line of your asscheeks.

Your bit down on your lip, slowly grinding your ass up and down harder as you rest your head on the pillow, fighting back an impatient whimper.

Right when you’re about to stop, Zach’s hand presses down onto your waist, “Don’t start something you can’t finish, babe.”

You smirk, turning your head slightly when you feel his cock twitch against your ass, “Did I catch you at a good time?”

Zach rolls you over and your lips are instantly on his as you lay a hand on his neck, “Anytime is a good time for you.”

His hand pulls your leg over his hip and his hand slides around to push your hips to meet his, letting out a groan when he grinds up against your lace covered pussy.

You gasp, “What took you so long?”

Zach chuckles, “Wanted to see if you’d break first.”

You roll your eyes, smiling as you lean in, “Well, looks like you won.” you peck his lips, dragging your nails down his chest and torso.

Zach pulls you onto him, making you straddle his lap, “I knew you loved me.”

You grind down onto him as you lean down to kiss up his neck, “The flirting with the other female guests stops now.”

“Stopped the minute I saw you.” Zach smiles and smirk down at him, “As it should have.”

He rolls over, pushing your shirt up and kissing the, still new to him, area of skin, groaning as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

You gasp out, fingers lacing through his hair, “Zach.” You look down at him, watching him suck on your boob before he moves over to the other one, giving it the same treatment as the other.

Moans escape your lips and you tug on his hair, earning a groan from him.

０３：４８ ＡＭ

He kisses up between your boobs before skipping over your bunched up shirt to attack your neck. His hand slides down, caressing your hip before he slips a finger in and drags it across the waist band of your panties, “Did you put these on specifically for me?”

You bite your pointer finger, looking up at him as you give him a shrug, “Maybe. Do you like them?”

Zach smirks, leaning down to kiss down to the hem of your panties, “They really are sexy.” He pulls them down your legs, “I’m more interested in what’s under them at the moment.”

You smirk, spreading your legs as soon as they are over your ankles. Zach slides his hands up the back of your thighs, pushing your legs back before he moves down and leans in.

You gasp when you feel his tongue slip inside of you, hand moving to slap onto the back of his head, “Fuck, fuck.”

He groans against you, fingers digging into the back of your thighs as he indulges in the taste of you for the first time.

Your back arches off the bed, hips trying to roll as you feel like you need more, “M-more.” You whimper out, “Please.”

Zach lifts his head just as you look down at him and you let out a moan, pulling him up for a kiss.

He crawls up, plopping his body down on yours as he lets you attack his lips. His hand slides up your side, coming to a stop as he grips your boob.

You bite down on his lip, earning a groan from him, “I’ve thought about you..” You whisper, catching his attention.

He lifts his head, breathing out, “When?”

Your eyes bounce from his lips to his eyes, “When I wanted you but couldn’t have you.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, “Please, that was your fault for not calling me.” He look at you, “I would have even settled for a random picture.”

“A picture, huh?” You lean in, “Still want one?”

He looks at you, a look of shocked excitement on his face, “of course I do.”

You bite your lip, “My Polaroid camera is in my suitcase.”

“That picture is going in my wallet.” Zach pecks your lips before scurrying off to get your camera. He pulls out the lenses to turn it on as he climbs back over top of you.

０４：０２ ＡＭ

He straddles your thighs and leans over slightly to allow light from the tv to guide him on where to hold the camera.

You bite down on your lip, holding your shirt over your chin. You blink as the flash quickly illuminates the room and you look up, watching as Zach takes the small picture and shakes it.

He looks down at you and as soon as his eyes meet yours, it’s like something switches within you both, and both of your little devils have come out to play.

You slip your shirt off over your head, grabbing the camera to take a picture of your boobs, your arm loosely holding them together.

“Goddamn.” Zach groans as his eyes scan up and down your body, “I should have just cracked, dammit.”

He his slide up your body as he leans down, kissing up your naked body beneath him, “Could have had you like this sooner.”

He kisses up your neck, “Could have known that you taste so much better than I ever fucking thought.”

Zach swearing is such a turn on.

You slide a hand up to his neck, squeezing gently as he pushes his shorts down his thighs and in one swift motion, his cock is slowly slipping inside of you.

０４：１１ ＡＭ

He groans lowly as you gasp, your walls squeezing his cock in a tight welcome while your hand squeezes harder.

“I could cum right now.” Zach mumbles, jaw going slack as he pulls out and slowly thrusts back in. You let out a whimper, smirking at how he brings his hand up for you to squeeze harder.

Now your jaw is slack, watching Zach melt into your touch, “I knew you were a slut.”

He furrows his brows, shaking his head slightly, “That’s crazy.” He brings his hand up, pinning you down by your throat, “I thought the same thing about you.”

You smile, eyes rolling back as his thrusts speed up, “Fuck, yes yes yes.” You whine out, back arching off the bed as you feel yourself growing closer to orgasm, “S-so close.”

Your hand drag down his chest, leaving red lines on his skin from your nails. He pulls out and your eyes snap open, words flying from your lips from the sudden loss, “You could have came in me!”

０４：２６ ＡＭ

Zach raises his brows, “I’m not done.” He moves his hand, indicating for you to roll over onto your stomach, “But it’s good to know you want me to do that.”

You feel your cheek heat up at the thought of what you said, but you loved the idea, “Just as long as we have time to get another shower before we meet everyone.”

Zach delivers a smack to your ass and you let out a slight yelp, looking back at him over your shoulder, “A simple yes would have worked.”

“Didn’t you like that?” He tilts his head and as you go to answer, another quick smack is delivered but to your other ass cheek, giving it a matching print as the other.

“Just shut up and fuck me.” You roll your eyes and within a second, Zach’s hand is around your neck and you’re gasping for air, “I guess..” Zach chuckles and presses a kiss just below your ear, “I can tell you that I absolutely hate when you roll your eyes at me.”

You part your lips to try and speak, even though you know it’s useless, but Zach’s cock thrusting back into you cuts off every thought you have in this very moment.

“The only time I ever want you rolling your eyes is when I’m making you feel good, understood?”

You were caught off guard by Zach’s sudden dominating demeanor.

Yeah, you have thought about it, and you mainly could only bring yourself to believe that Zach was goofy and had the occasional moments of seriousness.

But fuck, was this better than you could have ever imagined.

He groans lowly in your ear, your eyes fighting to stay open as you feel him push his hips fully against you, his cock pushing in as deep as it can go, “Did you think of me when you touched yourself?”

He loosens his grip and you squeak out a weak, “Yes.”

He drags his hand down to your hip, giving it a squeezed, “Tell me what you thought of.” Zach continues to slowly thrust his hips and you whimper out, “I-I.. you, me.”

“C’mon baby, you can do it.” Zach whispers as he brushes hair from your neck, “I know you’re not shy with me.”

“Fuck, Zach.” You moan out, trying to push your hips back to meet his, “Us, having sex, doing this.” You turn your head towards his and he presses his lips to your cheek, “that all?”

Zach’s thrusts were painfully too slow for you at this point, “N-no. No.” You squeeze your eyes shut, fighting then urge to roll your eyes, “I think about your hands, especially when we’re on set and you grab that mic.. I think about your hands on my body instead..”

You gasp at the sudden change of pace, gripping the sheets as you realize your dirty talk is getting you what you want.

“You think of me like that on set?” Zach asks, shocking surprised.

You nod, furrowing your brows as you squeeze his cock, “I think of how they would feel inside of me.” You bite down on your lip, “Mouth or pussy.”

“Fucking Christ.” Zach groans lowly, slipping two of his fingers into your mouth.

04:45 AM

You moan as your tongue swirls around them, bringing your one hand up to lay on his wrist.

His thrusts pick up before stopping abruptly. You’re rolled into your back and the fingers that were once in your mouth are shoved into hour soaked cunt.

You gasp, arching your back as Zach’s fingers immediately curl upward, “Doin’ so well for me. Look at you.”

He reaches up, fingers gripping your chin. You pout slightly, moaning loudly as you feel yourself getting closer than you’ve been to your peak and you needed it so bad.

Your lips part and Zach takes the opportunity to slip his thumb between them. You wrap your hand around his wrist, moaning around his thumb as you suck.

“Good girl.”

Your eyes open at his words and he smirks, his head shooting down to your pussy as you feel a sudden, and literal, gush of pleasure.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” You tense up, Zach’s hand sliding down to your neck as he returns his gaze to you, “That was the hottest thing I have ever witnessed with my own eyes, holy hell.”

You bite down onto your lip, smiling shyly as he spread the new wetness over your pussy. You sit up slightly and he meets you halfway, attacking your lips as his fingers slip back inside of you.

“My turn.” You breathe out, moving to sit up onto your knees. Zach’s hands find their place on your hips, pulls you into him as he squeezes.

You slide your hands down, pushing him back to break apart the action, “Lay back.”

Zach moves to lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head while his other rested on the bed next to his thigh.

He pulls his lip between his teeth as his eyes follow you, watching as you lay between his legs as your eyes ogle his cock that’s resting against his stomach.

You flip your hair from your face and a sharp breath exits Zach’s lips as you gently move to wrap your hand around him, slowly pumping your hand as your swipe your thumb over his achy and leaky tip.

You lick your lips before parting them to accept his cock between them. You close your eyes as Zach’s low groans fill the room.

You feel him brings his other hand down to gather your hair for a makeshift ponytail before it returns to the spot behind his head.

A sudden jolt of his hips causes you to gag and Zach can’t help but chuckle, “Taking me so well.” He breathes out, panting as you work up a solid rhythm for bobbing your head.

He gasps, whimpering slightly as your tongue laps at the underside of his cock, “F-fu-“ his grip tightens on your hair, earning a muffled whimper from you.

“Shit.” Zach throws his head back, back arching slightly off the bed before his hands are moving you off of him.

He leans forward, crawling down to meet your lips, “You’re so fucking good at that, too.”

You smirk within the kiss and next thing you know, you’re bend over again.

His hands on your waist, pulling you back into his cock with a groan. Your fingers gather the sheets and you grip them hard as Zach’s thrusts aren’t soft and sweet.

They’re rough and dominating, he practically has you screaming into the sheets you’re holding onto for dear life.

He slides his hand against your scalp, gathering as much hair as he can before yanking your head back, “Let me hear how good you feel, sweetheart.”

All you can do is moan, and loudly at that.

You push your hips back into him, clenching around him as you feel yourself working on your next, and hopefully your last orgasm - you were getting tired, and you most definitely needed sleep after this.

０５：２５ ＡＭ

“Almost there.” Zach groans as he leans forward, forehead resting on your shoulder as he continues to jolt your body forward with each one of his thrusts.

Zach’s head leaves your shoulder, but only for both of his hands to slide around to the front of your neck. You moan as you tilt your head back, allowing him more room to grab.

He pulls your upper body up, railing into your as your back arches from the overwhelming pleasure. His hands on your neck tighten, cutting off your moans which turn them into weak whimpers and squeaks.

You feel that tightening band in your belly snap and your body falls as far forward as Zach will allow.

He moves his hands to your shoulders and you gasp, head falling down as he uses the grip on your shoulders to pull your body back into his. He groans, hips stuttering as you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You moan at the feeling, whimpering when your body is laid on the bed.

You keep your eyes closed, trying to steady your breathing and you feel the bed dip down beside you. Zach leans down, pressing a kiss to your temple, “Let’s go for a shower, sweetheart.”

Zach’s voice is soft and gentle, along with his touch.

He slides his hand up and down your back, “You alive?”

You laugh, pushing yourself to roll over and look up at him, “I’m just shocked.”

“Shocked?” He asks pulling you to your feet.

You nod, “I never thought you had that kind of side to you.” You bite your lip, tilting your head, “Kinda makes me want to roll my eyes at you more often.”

He laughs, wrapping his arm around his waist before he goes serious, “Better make sure we have nothing planned a day or two after.”

“Why?” You ask as you flick the light to the bathroom on. Zach walks in, turning on the hot water as you close the door. He turns around, walking over to pin you up against it.

His lips moving against yours as his hands squeeze your wrists, “because, we’re just getting started, sweetheart.”

You laugh and shake your head, following him into the steam filled shower.

You expected round two to happen, but instead, you both seemed to just want to enjoy each other’s wet and soapy company.

“You really are beautiful.” He whispers as his hands drag bubbles over your body.

You smile, laying your head back to rest it against the front of his shoulder, “Yeah, you’re beautiful, too.” You giggle as you look over at him and he smirks, shaking his head.

You regretted labeling him as an annoying asshole, well. He is, but just not to you anymore.

“Alright.” You sigh, turning to rinse the soap from your body, “I don’t know what time is it, but I need a nap before we go for breakfast with the group.”

Zach nods, “Yeah, someone kept using their ass to try and wake me up. How weird is that?”

You wrap the towel around your body and your mouth drops, “So you were awake those first two tried?” You hand him a towel as he gets out, nodding, “Oh yeah. I wanted to see how long it took before you gave up.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You look up at him and he smirks, walking over to you, “No.” he pecks your lips, “I’m yours.”

You watch as he walks out, giving you a quick wink before he walks over to the bed. You’re standing there, taking everything that happened with Zach tonight, in.

“Um, babe.”

You smile at the nickname, walking out to see what’s going on, “Yeah, baby?”

He looks at you, “We’re going to need a Red Bull.. or two.” You look at him confused before he holds his phone up.

０６：３６ ＡＭ

“It’s almost seven?” You walk over to him, resting your head on his bare chest, “Why do we have to do things early?”

He runs his hand over your wet hair and sighs, “I ask myself that everyday and I still don’t have an answer.” He presses a kiss to your head, “If you want to nap quick, you can.”

You shake your head, “It’s fine. I’ll just.. stay up.” You laugh and look up at Zach.

He smiles, tucking already dry strands of hair behind your ear, “Well, we do have a little less than an hour, or so and I have an idea at keeping you awake.”

You look up at him, “As long as you promise to take it easy on me.”

Zach nods and presses his lips to yours, “Oh I promise.” He pushes you back to the bed, getting rid of your towel before you fall back onto it.

“Now.” Zach reaches up and turns your face to fully face his, “Eyes on me, baby.”

——

I’m actually screaming at this one. I kept thinking about this even when I wasn’t writing it. Please let me know what you thought. Thank you so much for reading and as always, I love you all so much!! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[paintedkinzy-88]

Let's take a step back (or rather, forward) and indulge my wandering mind. Behold! Bad Future Dragos!

I want it to be clear that these are at the... latest point in their lives (AKA, before they die) rather than all at the same time. The design choices are very deliberate in that case.

As always, off I ramble---

Raphael was often called the "Umbrella" of the Resistance, due to his habit of shielding those around him with his wings. He's always done this, ever since he was a dragonet, but the danger is much more real now, and he has a lot more people to protect. As it is, his wings are torn beyond repair. Unless he uses his Ninpo, flying is no longer an option. It's also because of this tendency to constantly throw himself into the front lines that he lost one of his legs. Lucky, Donnie was able to craft multiple prosthetics for him, as his size grew bigger and bigger each day, at a much faster rate than his brothers. Unfortunately, this also made him a bigger target, as he was the first Hamato casualty.

Speaking of Donnie, that serpent held the Resistance together, no doubt about it. He wasn't often put on the battlefield, as his skills were much more needed within their bases building defenses, weapons, armor, indoor gardens, and so much more. He was essential to their survival, working the hardest out of the group of engineers and construction workers they were able to recruit. However, after loosing his tail, back leg, and, temporarily, his voice to Krang hounds, he was kept strictly on base only, much to his dismay. With his focus so narrowed down to just build build build, Donnie created more and more pieces of tech to help him do so, like multiple Shelldon bodies and a constant supply of robot arms (that could of course be used as weapons in a pinch). In the end, keeping him so guarded didn't matter. When one of their hideouts was ransacked before they could escape, Donnie stayed behind to initiate a self destruct. He took out the sister Krang in the blast, as well as a sizable chunk of their army.

Leo was the seemingly fearless leader of the survivors, his way of words convincing countless people of all kinds to join their forces. He actually only took charge after Draxum's death, since the yokai had previous experiences in mass wars and lead them as well as he could prior to Leo. His fins have certainly seen better days, but swimming wasn't much of an option after a few years anyways, as the Krang eventually made the oceans far to toxic to be in. Eventually, with his fins so torn up, Donnie did make him prosthetic wings, as attacking from the air was such an incredible advantage. He also ended up taking one of Raph's old arms after a wound left them having to amputate, and resources to build a brand new one were slim pickings. Sadly, after Donnie's passing, there wasn't anyone with the same knowledge to fix and manage the wings, leading to them eventually just breaking off. Leo mostly uses them to stab aliens now.

Mikey gained a growing group of worshippers rather quickly. He hates it immensely, but his family finds it hilarious. With his mystic powers only gaining strength, and getting increasingly flashy as well, it wasn't too much of a surprise that people would see him as an angel, godlike figure, or deity. He was the heaviest hitter of the Resistance, even before Raph's passing, and spent any free time he had either speaking to their ancestors or helping people nurture the little remaining hope in their base. Despite being almost constantly on the frontlines of the worst battles, Mikey has the fewest scars.

AND, FINALLY: Heights. With a quickly added April to help out. Again, these are at the latest stage of their lives, because Raph would definitely have been Much Bigger Than That had he lived to be Leo's old man age.

(And Donnie has always been the taller twin. It's not his fault Leo had more time to gain a few inches on him.)

[piscespetals]

summary: in which sevika becomes your roommate. click here to view all parts.

content: gay pining, angst, thought spirals, fluff

word count: 4k

this is the final part. thank you so much for all your support! very sorry for the delay, I honestly had this sitting in my drafts on here for WEEKS y'all. this was supposed to have already been uploaded and silly me never logged back on to double check.

Chapter Five

When you wake, your muscles feel like jelly. You're hyper aware of the sheets underneath you—how warm they are. And how your duvet swaddles you just the right way…Your pillow smells good. Like coming home after a long day of work. Like Sevika. 

Suddenly, there's movement behind you.

And that's when you realize it's her breath. It tickles the back of your neck, stutters momentarily while she shifts, then resumes. A chill runs down the slope of your back as you feel pressure around your waist, which happens to be her arm. She pulls you closer to her as if she's afraid of you getting up right then.

“Sev?”

But there's no answer. The only sound that echoes is a soft snore and grinding teeth.

You bite back a smile while your muscles relax, and you lean into the inviting embrace of the woman behind you.

“You’re staring,” Sevika mutters. Her eyes remain downcast as she dries off a freshly washed knife. You admire how strong she looks in that moment; how she’s handling such a thing with the utmost care.

Sevika standing there with a sparkling knife shouldn’t be an image that you welcome. Yet you do. 

“Am I?” You mutter. Your lips barely part as you get lost at the sight of the woman before you. 

She peers at you under the lids of her lashes, eyebrows raising with sparkling pools of grey. 

“I don’t mind it.” She says quietly, almost sweetly. Her gaze readjusts quickly back to the task at hand–the knife–despite it already being completely dry. “I never do.”

Your eyes follow her slow and careful movements, towel in her right hand and utensil in her left. Your heart flutters.

Softly, you smile and manage only then to look away. 

Alicia bends over, hand gripping the porch handrail as a tear trickles down her face. She’s laughing, which you usually don’t mind, but this time it’s at your expense.

“It’s not that funny,” You mumble, which only makes her laugh harder.

“Hun, it’s known to all of mankind,” Mel chimes in. “That you’re quite dramatic.”

“Am not!”

Another round of guffaws. 

That’s when you glance towards Sevika, who’s relaxing in a rocking chair across from you. She somehow thought that today was the perfect day to tell Alicia and Mel about your waxing incident a few weeks back. Maybe you should find some sort of humor in it; after all, it turned out fine after an application of aloe vera. 

But still.

It was embarrassing.

“What about the night I told you that I’d be moving in with Alicia?” Mel’s eyes shine from the distant memory. “You were hysterical.”

“Okay, now you’re overexaggerating.”

“Remember when you said that me moving out was the beginning of your end? That you were doomed to grow old and die alone in a nursing home–”

“Mel.”

“While Alicia and I had to explain to our kids what happened to their Aunt-”

“It was a rational fear.”

At this point, Alicia is struggling to breathe. She grips the sides of her ribs, eyes squinted shut and jaw slack from silent laughter. She crouches down to the floor, hands stabilizing themselves on the arm of Sevika’s rocking chair. You notice Sevika’s amusement seconds later; how she coughs fakely into her inner elbow while her forehead crinkles. Mel giggles when you playfully shove her.

“I hate you guys.” 

For a split second, you peer at Sevika to find that she’s already regarding you. Her pupils are dilated and her full lips have stretched into a lazy grin. Her cupid’s bow looks exceptionally prominent, reminding you of how warm her mouth felt when pressed against you this morning. 

She winks and manages to pull you from the memory. 

Mel rolls her eyes, sending you a cheesy grin. “You love us.”

You open your mouth to object, but nothing comes out. You can’t fight it. Because Mel is right.

You do.

When you wake up, the first detail that you can pinpoint is the smell of something warm and sophisticated. Your eyes flutter.

“Careful.” The murmur is low. Gentle. Sevika. “You’ll wake her.”

“Sorry,” The distinct lilt of Mel’s voice. “Do you need help getting her into the car?”

Shifting, “No, it’s okay.”

Then there’s movement. Is it you? Is it Sevika? You’re too drowsy to be able to fully tell. You try to open your eyes, but the pull is too enticing.

“Thank you for always looking after her…” Mel’s voice draws closer. There’s the warmth of another body now, and a gust of Mel’s signature fruity perfume. You struggle to register the feeling of being smothered by two people. Is Sevika carrying you? “She may never tell you, but she appreciates you so much.”

Mel pulls away, squeezing your arms briefly. When you try to open your eyes, your vision can only make out the edge of a jawline that curves into a neck. Sevika’s neck.

Arms hold you with a strength you hadn’t thought possible. Fingers press into your skin when you shift your weight–or try to. 

“We’ll be home soon,” Sevika says. Her voice has dipped down to an incredibly low volume, much closer to your ear than before. Her skin–at least, that’s what you think it is–brushes against your cheek for a few seconds. Lingering there before disappearing again. “Just rest.”

If you were fully awake, you’d probably be absolutely embarrassed by the thought of Sevika carrying you to the car. You must have fallen asleep after dinner, since your last memory is sitting around the fireplace with Sevika, Alicia and Mel. 

But you’re too tired to feel embarrassed.

And you’re too comfortable.

There’s a hand that touches your shoulder, a gentle caress before it pulls away and then, “She looks exhausted,” Mel whispers. 

Sevika hums. The voices begin to drift away again. You catch the end of a sentence, very specifically the words, “...Haven’t told her yet,” before you succumb to a restful sleep.

It’s only when your neck is sore from being craned, forehead resting against the cool glass of the passenger window, when your eyes flutter open. You see flashing lights and blurred buildings, and for a second, you're incredibly disoriented as you try to register the passing world. But then there's a hand that rests on your thigh, the slight caress from a thumb, before you're being gently squeezed.

“Almost home,” Sevika mutters.

You blink slowly and gaze at her side profile. There’s certain parts of her that are beautifully accentuated in the dark of the night. Her grey eyes glow as they shift from streetlights to traffic, always alert and ever-watchful. Her full lips move discreetly as she hums along to the car radio. There's something sweet that settles in your mouth then, a new flavor that you're not quite used to. After walking around the world with a bitter-aftertaste for so long, you almost convince yourself that anything else is wrong. But you know, deep down, it’s completely the opposite.

This couldn't be anymore right.

You're at a red light now and Sevika does not hesitate to flick through the radio channels, frowning in distaste at some of the songs. Your heart dances at the sight. 

“Thank you,” You find yourself saying.

Her gaze remains on the radio and she allows the silence to be enveloped by a commercial before she replies. “For what?”

“Being you. And lovi–” You swallow thickly. “...caring for me.”

You can tell that melts through to her. Your words have found a way to pierce that shell of nonchalance she always carries. Her lashes flutter and you swear you hear the slightest hitch of her breath. 

But then the light turns green, the car jolts forward and she glances back towards the road. 

The moment passes and so does the rest of your courage. 

You can’t seem to find your courage around Sevika anymore. 

The next morning, you wake to the smell of bacon lingering in the air. A cloud of fatigue hangs over you whilst you make yourself presentable. Even after splashing ice cold water on your face–and brushing your teeth twice–you barely manage to keep your eyes open when you approach the kitchen. 

Sevika stands at the island, dressed in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants. A few strands of hair sweep the sharp lines of her jaw as her gaze remains on the task in front of her. With deep concentration, she slices through a strawberry. Several pieces of said fruit sit in a bowl to her left. 

It’s ridiculous that the mere sight of her is enough to wake up every atom in your body. Within seconds, your drowsiness has dissipated, and you stand before her with your teeth working into your bottom lip. 

Her head snaps up upon your arrival, grey eyes alert before softening (a telltale sign that she was deep in thought) when they land on you. 

“Strawberries?” Is all that you can say.

Her eyebrows fret together–lips parting, “They’re your favorite right?” She appraises your forehead, then your nose, before returning back to your eyes. “Or do you not like them anymore?”

She remembers. 

Your ears ring and for a split second, you’re convinced you’ll become a puddle on the floor.

Behind her, on the opposing countertop, sits a platter of bacon and prepared scrambled eggs.  

It’s a simple gesture–but the emotions that said gesture ignites feel dangerous. Scary. All encompassing. 

Lines of worry etch themself onto Sevika’s forehead as you struggle to respond.

You want to tell her. You need to tell her.

But how? 

Is it not too soon? Will it scare her away?

To jump or not to jump is the true question that you find yourself wanting to answer. How do people take the plunge? Put their hearts on the line with a possibility of it being crushed?

“Is this too much?” She asks, voice much quieter now.

If you look close enough, you’d almost believe that there was a cloud of desperation swirling in Sevika’s grey irises. Your head shakes slightly as you try to recenter yourself. 

There it is again–that ear ringing sensation that makes you want to jump into her arms while simultaneously collapsing onto the ground. The pull towards her–the one that’s always there–no matter how many times you try to wish it away.

You shake your head, only managing to croak, “I love strawberries,” with a pounding heart.

I love you.

“It’s not too much,” You add. 

You could never be too much. 

Sevika doesn’t move–doesn’t blink. Barely breathes.

Your lips part and she watches you with a patience that’s warm enough to console you even during the coldest winters. She’s waiting for you to say something more. 

But you can’t.

You fucking can’t.

“Come here,” Her command is nothing more than a whisper. 

Your mouth goes dry when you watch her set the knife back down on the chopping board. She side-steps, strawberries long forgotten, as her hands stretch for you.

It doesn’t take much effort for you to close the distance. Despite your tongue being tied, and despite that god-awful lump in the back of your throat, your body doesn’t hesitate in following her. It never will.

Her hands, as tender as they can be, cup the apple of your cheeks. “Are you sure this is okay?” Her breath fans your skin, nose nearly inches from yours as her head bows to meet your gaze head-on.

You nod, boneless and vulnerable. 

“This is okay,” Is pretty much all that you can manage to respond. “More than okay.” 

And that seems to be enough for her. Her shoulders relax and she dips down to meet you with a kiss.

You can feel the beads of perspiration dripping down the nape of your neck. Your chest heaves up and down as you step into the lobby, eyes immediately landing on two receptionists sitting at the front desk. 

One of them sports auburn ringlets and hazel eyes. Small rectangular frames sit on the edge of her nose, and she’s dressed in all black with a large scale spider tattooed onto the front of her neck. 

Two people sit in the lobby chairs positioned against one of the walls. One of them is deeply attuned to their smartphone. The other is asleep.

The receptionist with the spider tattoo, follows your movements with acute focus. You shoot her a lazy smile, slightly dazed from rushing two blocks and also stressed about the time. 

Your eyes dart to the watch on your left wrist as you reach the receptionist desk.

4:17 PM.

You’re late.

“Hi,” You breathe, before taking a long gulp of water. Your purse is barely hanging off of your shoulder, chest heaving up and down as you struggle to breathe while simultaneously inhaling half of the contents in your hydroflask. 

The woman stares at you tepidly, the corner of her mouth twitching as she blinks. That’s when you notice how striking her hazel eyes are, which happen to be coated with a thick layer of black eyeliner and mascara. Her name reads:

Sage

She/her

Sage’s coworker, a muscular brunette with a buzzcut and two industrial piercings, finally glances up from their book. Their name tag, much more shinier than Sage’s, reads: 

Mav

He/him

Mav is friendlier, greeting you with a wide grin. Wrinkles appear around his eyes when he does so. “Hey! Are you here for an appointment?”

Your eyes dart to Sage, who is still appraising you with a harsh stare. She plays with the lanyard around her neck as her head slightly tilts. 

You shift your weight nervously, “I’m actually visiting Sevika. Um,” You redirect your gaze back to Mav. “She’s my…” A heatwave flashes through you as you try to form a comprehensible sentence. “I’m uh, like, her…” God. This is awkward. “I was originally supposed to be here at 3:45? I don’t know if she told you. Um-”

“Oh!” A hint of recognition flashes across Mav’s face. His smile widens and his gaze travels to every detail of your face. “You're Sev’s girl? It’s nice to finally meet you! I swear to God, it’s been ages of us asking,” Mav pauses, glancing over to Sage for reassurance. “...About when we would finally see you. We were beginning to think that Sev has just been lying all this time. Or that the whole love triangle thing between you, her and Monica was just a big story she made up t-Ow!”

It almost looks as if Sage kicks Mav. Mav winces, reaching underneath the desk to check on–what you assume to be–his leg. His eyes narrow as he sends a side-long glare in Sage’s direction, but the deadpan woman ignores him. 

Instead, Sage glances at you, humor dancing in the swirls of her hazel irises as she stands to her feet. “I'll let Sevika know you're here,” She murmurs.

“Thanks. I texted her a few times but she hasn't responded so I figured she’s probably busy with,” You clear your throat. “Tattooing and… stuff.”

One of Sage’s eyebrows quirk up in amusement. She doesn't say anything more, turning on her heels and rounding the corner that leads to another room. When you return your gaze back to Mav, he’s already nose-deep into his novel; your presence long forgotten.

A few minutes later, you hear footfalls echoing from the hallway. It sounds like multiple, which causes your shoulders to tense and back to straighten. Subconsciously, you wipe your palms against the denim of your jeans. A worn pair of black boots rounds the corner, clunking against the marble floors. Your eyes travel up the fitted dark-washed jeans and stop on Sevika’s exposed shoulders—thanks to her sleeves being cut off.

You aren’t able to get much ogling done before she speaks.

“I thought you weren’t gonna make it,” Her voice is low. A bit strained but laced with an undertone of satisfaction. Sage quietly trails behind, eyeing the two of you before sitting back down in her seat. 

You aren’t quite sure how to greet Sevika; at least, not in public like this. Especially since you’re at her workplace. Surely, kissing would be inappropriate?

Thankfully, she doesn’t give you a chance to truly decide. Instead, her arm drapes over your shoulders as she pulls you into her side–a half hug, to your surprise–while something warm presses against your temple.

Her lips.

The kiss is too fleeting for you to register it at that moment. It’s only when she pulls away, squeezing your left shoulder and urging you to walk with her when the gesture dawns on you.

“Are you hungry?” Her lips brush against your right ear, voice low. “I ordered food. It got here a while ago though so we’ll most likely have to microwave it.”

Your skin is warm. Every inch of it. 

Blinking through a daze, your head tilts in her direction as you nod. “That's fine with me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you still feel the heavy stare of Sage. You wait until you’re further away and out of sight from the receptionist desk when you add, “The woman…Sage? She’s kind of, uh, intense don't you think?”

Sevika doesn't necessarily laugh at your statement but her lips do stretch into a small grin as she exhales shakily. “Yeah, she is. Mostly nosy, is all. And she’s not really a people person—her apprenticeship starts here soon though. She’s one hell of an artist. So we’re keeping her at the front until then.”

You hum at the thought, Sage quickly fading from your brain as Sevika’s arm drops from your shoulders. Instead, you feel a loose grip around your waist–her fingers rest around the curve of your hip and gently urge you to move closer to her. The pair of you have long passed the piercing and tattoo stations, nearing the tail end of the building where a staircase leads to a second floor. Silently, she gestures for you to begin climbing.

Your eyebrows raise and you glance at her, “Up?” You ask, not bothering to mask your surprise. Your index finger motions towards the second floor.

“Where else?” She gives you a quizzical stare.

You suppose it was a bit silly to think that the pair of you would be anywhere else. It’s not like it’s sanitary or professional to be lounging around the tattoo stations, especially if you’re eating food soon. 

It was early this morning when Sevika proposed the idea of having a meal together. She mentioned that it could be at her job, since you haven’t seen the inside of her building (and it’s also geographically convenient since her tattoo shop is closer to home than your office).

The moment you heard the words food and tattoo shop, you immediately said yes. Spending more time together has especially been on your mind lately (and you’ve always had a nagging desire to see this side of her). 

However, you hadn’t actually thought through the logistics of the plan. Not until now. 

“Will it be too taxing for you? I’m sorry–I didn’t even realize–” She points in the direction you just came from. “...The elevators are in the lobby. We can walk back if you want. Are you hurting badly?”

What?

Oh. 

Oh.

The car accident.

You were sore from time to time, but not as bad as before. Quickly, you grab her hand and begin to climb the stairs. “No, actually–” You struggle to hide your smile. “...I’m okay with taking the stairs.” 

You lead the way, with the help of a few directions from her.

Sevika’s office is heavily decorated with all things that describe her. Hundreds of sketches are pinned to a wall while three signed basketball jerseys are hung up on another. There's an incense burning, per usual, when the pair of you walk into the room. A window is slightly propped open and gives you a perfect view of the city. Art clippings and photographs are sprawled across the desk, and a tall lamp is positioned in the corner of the room. To your right is a couch, with a folded blanket and what looks like-

Your head whips back at her. “Chinese takeout?”

Sevika still stands by the door threshold, balancing her weight against it as she rests her hands in her pockets. “Your favorite.” A small smile falls upon her lips.

You don’t know what to say. Thankfully, she continues talking. “I don’t have a TV though. So we’ll have to do without one of your romcoms.” She motions her head behind you. “I hope the window is enough entertainment.”

You laugh and make your way towards the couch. “This is perfect.”

Today is perfect.

She is perfect.

But the feelings are too powerful for you to allow yourself to linger on them. Instead, you make a beeline for the couch, opening up the takeout bag and retrieving  one of the containers. You’re well aware of Sevika’s presence–the waft of her cologne and muted thuds of her boots. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her grab the takeout bag, sitting down in place of it before placing the bag on a coffee table that's a foot away. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, mouth full of egg fried rice and skin buzzing. If you were to scoot father right, your leg would press against hers. 

But you don’t.

A few beats pass before, “Is everything okay?” She mutters. Her voice is low.

That’s when you force your head to lift, meeting her eyes for a fews seconds. She remains calm. Steady. Her expression is clear–gaze never leaving you. 

“You’ve been distant for a little while now,” She pauses, lips parting. You can tell she’s thinking deeply about what to say and how to say it. “...For the last week or so. And I just want to make sure it’s not because of anything I’ve done or–”

“No.” Your eyes are widening. “You haven’t done anything at all. You’ve been good to me, Sev.” Blinking rapidly, you refocus back on the food in front of you. “I have no complaints. I’m happy with you.”

Hesitation. Then, “Are you sure?” 

And when you catch wind of her face again, you notice that she’s sporting an expression of genuine curiosity. A hint of quiet longing also seems to be staring back at you, and it’s apparent that she's truly–completely–surprised. Have you not been obvious about how much you care for her? Is there really a chance that she thinks differently?

A wave of courage greets you and you decide, right then, that you have to stop denying yourself.

You deserve to take a hold of this–to firmly grasp this time with her–no matter how badly you want to listen to the fear that is nagging in the back of your mind.

You deserve to let yourself fully enjoy this–to fully enjoy her.

And she deserves that too.

“I love you,” You say it as faithfully as you can, because damned if you don’t surely sounds worse than damned if you do. Your hands are shaking, but you don’t allow yourself to think twice because you’ve already said it. You can’t take it back. “God, I love you.” It’s becoming harder to see her. Your line of vision is blurry and your throat hurts. “Sorry I-” You swallow deeply. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you, or even if I should. I don’t want to scare you off. I know it’s soon and we’re still trying to figure this out but…” You’re at a loss for words, shrugging as you try to contemplate what else to say.

She grabs your hands, tugging you towards her. 

“I…” The sound of her exhaling softly is all you can hear. She tries to speak again, “You…” But her voice trails off again.

“I know you’ve expressed to me how you feel and I know this is a lot considering your divorce, then Monica and now me. I want to be with you and I want to give you everything I can, even if that includes taking things slow.” You wet your lips and that’s when you taste tears. You’re crying. “Whatever you need...I’ll be that. I don’t mind. I’ve just been trying to process it all. How I feel for you–it only seems to grow stronger each day. My love for you…” You shake your head, trying to recollect yourself. “...Becoming distant…Making you worry–that wasn’t what I intended.” 

She lets go of your hands. Air leaves your lungs when you feel her coming closer…closer…closer. Her mouth is hot, pressing against yours without any hesitation. That feeling alone makes your muscles turn to mush. But then she deepens it, leaning further into you as if none of this is enough. The urgency she exudes, combined with the swiftness of her tongue, makes you feel as if you’re running out of time….like kissing you is the most dire thing she could be doing right now. 

She wraps her arms around you completely and you allow your body to relax. 

All you can think about is her. Her lips and her taste and her smell and her hair.

All you can think about is how much you loved her when you were inside of her last night, and how much you loved her when her arms were wrapped around you this morning. How much you loved her even when the two of you bickered over the broken tea kettle last week, and how much you still love her right now. 

And that love, you're completely sure, will just keep growing and growing and growing…

You need her, in every aspect. You believe that you’ll always need her.

The tip of her nose brushes your cheek, then grazes against it when she tilts her head in the opposite direction. You feel yourself arching when her hands slide to the small of your back. Your fingers dig into her hair and tug at her scalp. Her quiet hum of satisfaction falls directly into your mouth, chest pressed against yours, body sliding in between your legs.

The salt of your tears fall onto your tongue, but she doesn't seem to mind. When she pulls away, gasping for air, her arms tighten around you even more. Her lips are swollen, eyes misting over as they stare back at you, and forehead merely inches from yours, “Don't you get it?” She whispers. “I'm yours,” Her voice strains with desperation. “You could never scare me away by telling me this. Ever.” 

“And if it isn’t obvious already,” She adds, nose brushing against your cheek. She leaves a trail of her burning touch as she inhales deeply; breathing you in. Your eyes flutter shut and the feeling of her lips pressing against your neck causes your breath to hitch. “I love,” And she pulls away to kiss your other side, “Love,” You shiver when she practically drags her face against yours before halting your anticipation with a tender peck against your lips. “...Love you. More than you’ll ever know.”

And you’re kissing her again, still needing more, but this time allowing yourself to have it. At this point, you’re pretty sure cartoon birds are circling above your head. You’ve never felt so blissed out and completely flustered at the same time. This moment is full of mirth, and promises, and undeniable love.

This is what it means to be alive.

Sevika is smiling now, laughing when you press into her for more, more, more. You’ll always want more of her and more of everything with her. 

“Take me home?” You whisper.

She’s laughing again, eyes misting over, but doesn't miss a beat standing up.

She understands. She feels it too.

Grabbing your hand, she manages to collect the food and her keys in one sweep. “Okay,” She answers, seemingly happy to grant you such a wish.

With your chest aching something fierce, you follow her without question. 

You love her.

And she loves you back.

Tomorrow, you’ll wake up and spend your morning eating toast and drinking tea, loving each other just the same. 

There’ll be days where you two will hang photos that haven’t been taken yet, loving each other just the same.

You’ll spend more dinners together, more holidays, and weekends and years–loving each other just the same. 

Your new life, the one you have been so afraid to accept ever since Mel moved out, is waiting for you with the door wide open.

Now is when you decide to take the leap forward, hand in hand with Sevika; promising yourself that you’ll never look back. 

[nevertheless-moving]

unable to stop dwelling on the discworld trouser leg of time where, in the penultimate fight scene in Nightwatch, Carcer manages to kill teenage Sam Vimes.

Which means that the future that Duke Vimes came from can no longer exist, which means he can’t go home. Meanwhile you’ve got a bunch of history monks with stored up temporal energy, a prepared space outside of time, and the need to do some desperate damage control before the Auditors get involved. Death shows up, reality is unweaving, Sam is reading Carcer his discworld miranda rights because what else is he supposed to do.

and finally, with little other option, the monks de-age Sam so he fits the time period and send him back out into the fray.

(they didn't call it deageing of course. His memory is hazy, splintered during that terrible in between moment, They....took the time out of him? Sanded away the edges of his self for a terrible, workable fit? It...wasn't a good feeling.)

Just—damn. Sam Vimes having to live his whole crapsack life over again, but this time as his disillusioned-reillusioned, unwillingly-character-developed, noir-epic, Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes self. 

Younger (Older? He's never felt so Old, His steps so Childlike, reality twisting in his gut like one of Dibbler's pies) Sam Vimes walking around in a haze after the revolution. Desperate to go home, knowing he can’t. Wanting to drink. Knowing he can’t.

The whole precinct feels pity, he really took Keel’s death hard, hardly speaks except to do his job. Eventually he has to grit his teeth and start being present, because what else is there to do?

Resists the urge to drink until Colon takes the whole watch out to celebrate because -he’s going to be a father!

Come on Sammy, one drink won’t kill you— and after the first drink he’s cracking jokes and after the second hes smiling and after the third hes honestly the life of the party and sometime after that he’s crying about how he was going to be a father and my wife would be ashamed if she saw me drinking like this and— 

Oh shit, Did anyone else know he had a wife?? A PREGNANT wife??? What—aren’t you like 12—no you're 17 now aren't you but when did—

You guys n’ver met ’er—oh gods none if you ev’n know ‘er, is jus’ me...

What—when did you lose—

I lost her the same damn day I los’ ev’rythin else, whadya think...bleeding Carcer...the fuckin revolution...

So! That! Sam only vaguely remembers the night, but rumors travel faster than light on the disc, so by the next day the whole damn city knows about poor Sam brung low by the loss of his poor, tragic, pregnant wife, so young to be a widower, and the Seamstresses nod because they already knew, don’t ask them how, somethings you just have to know in that trade.

And his mother—I don’t know, sue me, I’m a time travel fiend but there’s something deeply intriguing about a man meeting his dead parent, who is somewhat younger than him, and stepping into the old relationship like a badly fitting thing that's supposed to fit well. She would know, right? How would she deal with her son’s impossible grief? Maybe she wouldn’t know—he spent most of the time out of the house, running with different street gangs, maybe he avoids her until she dies and lives with the guilt twice over. God, we don’t even know her name. There’s just so much narrative and emotional potential that I don’t even know where to start.

When he’s on duty, which is most time - it’s agonizing because at first he remembers cases, saves lives that would have been lost. But the more time passes, the hazier his memory because in the original timeline he was becoming an alcoholic. Fuck! A kid dies and he could have saved her if he hadn’t been such a drunk, if he had just remembered where the asshole lived, but it’s all a haze, and he wants to drown out his guilt, but that’s what caused this in the first place.

Good young Sammy, who spends his rare off-time in dusty libraries (and yes, the irony that he’s apparently Carrot now is not lost on him) reading gods-only-know.

It’s not like he can ask the wizards for help, cutthroat and vicious as they are now in the not-so-distant-past.

Good young Sam, who...talks to the Broken Drum’s pet Bouncer like he’s a real person and not a dumb rock? That’s a bit weird, but he’s a bit of a funny guy.

Good old Sam, who believed the testimony of the dwarf who said the humans were trying to rob him and let the dwarf go??

the PROBLEMS this man would cause, good grief. Can you imagine a moderately progressive middle aged man with some degree of begrudging diversity and equity training that he did, for all his sins, pay attention to, suddenly going back to like, 1990, going back just 30 years, and going...oh damn this is kind of fucked up, no man you can’t say that, holy shit.

Except Sam’s lived through even more rapidly shifting social moroes! There’s no seamstress guild, there’s no women allowed inside the university, there’s no black ribboner’s society. People hunted trolls for their teeth! But Sam can’t just unlearn everything, and he can’t shut up, and he has no real luck and anyway he would absolutely get himself (temporarily) fired.

FUCK. Sam has no idea what to do with that. None. Zero clue. Wanders around in a haze until that dwarf he saved from police brutality finds him and insists on repaying the debt. No, he insists, do you have any idea what debt means to a dwarf?

“Sort-of?” he replies hesitantly, and that honest admission of incomplete knowledge shows a hell of a lot more respect and understanding than any self proclaimed dwarf-expert ever did.

Gets a job as a surface man, hauling rocks into the city. It’s backbreaking work, but, in true Discworld fashion, it’s also one hell of a workout (again the irony of being Carrot is not lost him. he freezes for a minute while hauling a rock cart, when he remembers he's technically Lost Nobility too, in a strict sense, but someone curses at him in the street and he's comfortingly grounded)

And here is where this au slides into a SPECTACULAR romantic comedy, BEAR WITH ME. Because in his time on the Watch he’s already done noir, action adventure, war story, detective who dunnit, psychological horror, but guards guards only allowed him to be a romance protagonist in an extremely limited context.

Give me righteous, twenty-something-looking, can’t-say-he-doesn’t-have-style, young Sam Vimes, not an alcoholic,  being fed three square meals a day by his dwarven forced found family, hauling rocks. He is startled to find him bumping his head on a low hanging bar that he doesn’t think used to be there, eventually realizing that he’s an inch or two taller than he remembers. Huh. Guess all that bearhuggers really did stunt his growth.

Still doesn’t get what some of the looks from women he’s getting are about, sure, he’s dirty but so is everyone else. Fine, he took his shirt off, but it’s hot out, there’s far wrinklier than him hauling heavy loads, get a life. 

Happens to glance in the Ankh one day when it’s particularly slow and shiny and is startled to realize that he might be turning heads for a different reason. Oh. Right, not that he was ever a heartbreaker, but he did alright for himself... when he was a younger and his face hadn’t been broken so many times. Which...it isn't now.

Is mildly disturbed by the revelation.

Especially once things blow over at the precinct and what with high mortality rates, he ends up with getting hired again. The boys are delighted to have him back, nevermind that he’s an odd one, noone is ever quite in your corner like Vimsey, absence makes the heart fonder, no one else works that hard, and he’s not even competition for promotion. All around great guy, we should set him up with somebody and just, no.

It just keeps getting worse! He’s literate! He’s a feminist! He believes abuse victims! He’s got a tragic backstory! He’s unreasonably good in a fistfight! He’s kind to animals! Word gets around that there’s a good man on the watch and he’s just waiting for a good woman to come snap him up. The widower excuse doesn’t hold people off completely, and for some it’s its own sort-of appeal. 

Things REALLY become stressful after he rescues that carriage full of noblewoman.

What’s he supposed to do? Let them get robbed? Or worse? Chasing down and beating up 10 goons is as easy as beating up one, when they’re that stupid, getting separated like that, drunk and distracted, and he knows these streets better than anyone, really it’s nothing. And oh lord he’s Modest too.

I mean, they were genuinely greatful, as genuine as people like that are capable of being, the skill having grown rusty. And then there is something...magnetic about the man. An air of command.

So, soon enough you get Lady Marigold of Marigrave calling on Treckle Road for that gallant young officer who rescued them, she really needs to thank him. And Viscountess Elanor Thitzferal specifically requesting that he guard her at her next soiree. And Baroness Julieta van Shoeholten insisting that he come to her home while her husband’s away, for... manly protection.

Aaaah just zero sympathy from the guys. None. 'It’s become a competition, they’re just trying to see who can get me into bed first, it’s like I’m a piece of meat, you can’t send me sir, the Marquess greeted me in a nightee last time you made me go to—' and 'small gods Vimes are you even listening to yourself, shut the hell up'.

Simultaneous to this, (again this is several years into the timeline) swamp dragon accessories come into style. Which means abandoned swamp dragons scrounging on the street. Vimes takes one back to his apartment, blows his paycheck on dragon medicine, and eventually, heart in his chest, brings it to the Ramkin estate. The sunshine orphanage doesn’t even exist yet and he’s just standing outside the gates like an idiot, what is he thinking. Turns around, but her carriage is pulling up and—

well. they meet. it's cute. he's never felt so young. he's never felt so old, too old for her, too poor—

and certainly her thoughts linger too long on the awkward, kindly, handsome young commoner, but is it any wonder she doesn't quite connect it to the stern, dangerous, sexy young guard the ladies seem to be in some quiet, cuthroat competition over?

i have this gorgeous, absurd scene in my head in which Vimes is strong armed into standing guard at some high society soiree and one of the pushiest ladies insists he dance with here, or, if he prefers, if he's not confident about his skills, he can dance with her in-private at her home and he’s like [grinding teeth, looking for a way out, seeinf one] “I would be honored to dance with you.”

Steps right into some ultra-complex dance with multiple partner swaps (she never thought he'd pick this one, devilishly intimidating to one not strictly trained, and you barely spend anytime with your first partner).

But he does alright. Better than alright, for a common man, sometimes misstepping but his hands and feet always end up where they need to be. Raises several eyebrows part way into the song because he's throuwing in some slightly scandalous, no innovative, extra lifts and twirls that wouldn't become fashionable for another decade or two. Who even is that guy? Some out of towner? No, no he's in a guards uniform...how very strange.

Gets to Sybll and she's used to embarrassment during these dances, she tries to get out of them when she can... but can't always. Men awkwardly skipping the lifts, or worse, trying and failing. But him — oh it's him, the one who helped little Erold, and looked at her like—like—well like she was someone beautiful. And he's doing it again, and he's strong and there's a quiet moment where she's in the air, they lock eyes, and the rest of the room melts away.

And then the partners change again, the moment ended.

Just...living throught it all again. To the left, a dance he almost knows the steps to, throwing others off balance with erratic moves , honest mistakes, and delibrate stepping on toes. Improvising. Ruining. Improving. Getting far, far too much attention.

Hes almost excited when the first assassains start coming after him. It's like a hobby.

Everyone tells him he should get a hobby.

Interactions with young vetinari...I don't have the energy to write it all down, the slow circling in on each other, both burning with the need to fix the city, save it, their city.

needless to say he ends up fired again, life under real threat after offending some high lord.

Conveniently enough he has an employment opportunity- bodyguard to fucking Vetinari on his 'grand sneer.' The bastard knows vimes isn't what he seems, though sam is pretty sure that he doesnt know the exacts.

Vetinari hypothesis:(the ghost of keel? Keels son, with some hereditary curse? Or a larger spirit of justice possessing a string of unrelated souls? He knows things he shouldn't- mind reader? Fortune teller? Havelock once arranged for a wizard to bump into him on the street, the magical fool gave an odd double look and then muttered something about destiny looping in on itself giving him a headache. Destiny? Lost noble? And hes far too familiar with sybyl, one of the few bearable noblewomen in this city. And his thoughts on guilds, when havelock can trip him into speaking... Most of all, if hes reading him at all correctly (for all the mystery hes not that hard to read, unless thats a very clever cover) then it seems that behind those dark haunted eyes is Respect. Loyalty. For vetinari. What an interesting man. A puzzling asset. An intriguing threat. )

Did I mention the timeline is changing, healing slowly around the place where it was torn? Healing enough around scars to perhaps get some flexibility back, with some painful stretches and...massaging of said scar tissue?

And hes heading to unresting uberwald, a place where a werewolf pack still hunts humans and, truely unrelated but perhaps equally exhausting, an eldritch spirit of vengeance just might be looking to stretch its legs in a hapless vessel?

Opening drabble Vimes Vetinari Meta (Unwell) Scene from the Uberwald Grand Sneer

[theothershin]

Taking a break from writing. The real writer's-bore has set in, and I think maybe I need a break to simmer or I'll really boil over. Either way, I look forward to returning to writing Timeline chapter 1 on December 22nd, 2023, right at the beginning of the break! If I still can't write then, I'll contemplate some more and possibly extend my break. I'm feeling the pains of not writing in tiny bursts here and there already so probably not. I think things will go back to normal when I give my brain a break. I hope so, too.

Give yourself time to relax. I know we all love to write for long hours, and there's nothing wrong with that. That's one of the best moments of my days, second only by worshipping God. But sometimes it can be tiring and too much. That doesn't mean there's anything wrong with what you're doing currently. There's always a break from something. Just let yourself wait for a few days - or however long you need - and then come back brand new.

Honestly I hope my own advice works for me. Pray that it does!

[somerandomdudelmao]

Besides the movie (if there is), was there anything else that made you create this amazing comic?

Actually..ahahfjgj aCTUally, the movie wasn't what inspired this comic at all.

Fanfics and comics, however....

[cartoonfan21]

💀The Multiverse Pines Twins Bad End💀

Gnome Queen Mabel (In this timeline, Mabel accepted to become the gnomes new queen. She never had the chance to meet Waddles, Mermando, Candy, and Grenda.)

The Wet Pines Twins (During their hunt for the "Gobblewonker" who was actually Old Man Mcgucket, they drowned while escaping from him.)

The Wax Figures Pines (If the wax figures didn't kill the Pines Twins, but instead turn them into wax figures too.)

Impaled Dipper (If Mabel didn't come in time to find Gideon about impale her brother.)

Smile Dip Mabel / Possessed Mabel (Apparently in this timeline, Mabel died of an overdose from eating too much expired Smile Dip. Which eventually led the ghosts of Ma and Pa Duskerton to control her body.)

Tyrone Pines (Probably Tyrone's ghost returning to threaten Dipper's family and friends to make Dipper comply🤔)

Erased From Existence Pines (By using the Time Tape too many times it caused them to be erased from existence.)

16 - Bits Pixels Dipper (If Dipper actually succeeded in defeating Rumble McSkirmish, he'd be the one suck back into the arcade game. )

Pocket Sized Dipper & Mabel (If Gideon accomplished in capturing Mini Dipper and Mabel.)

Digested Pines Twins (If the Summerween Trickster ate Dipper and Mabel.)

Frozen In Amber Pines Twins (If the twins didn't save Waddles in time or....)

The Zombie Pines Twins (If Dipper and Mabel didn't get away from the zombies in time! Or if Stan didn't save them in time.)

Bipper and Lost Dipper (If Bill succeeded in destroying the journal, he could've made Dipper's body died by suicide! Which could've made Dipper lost in the astral plane for eternity!)

MaBill "Mabel & Bill" (If Mabel actually gave the journal to Bipper, she could've become super depressed, blaming herself for her brother taking drastic measures! Which could've allowed Bill to manipulate her!)

The Blind Eye Pines Twins (If Blind Ivan succeded in erasing the teams memories of their summer, they could've joined the Blind Eye Society.)

Wood Dipper (If Pacifica didn't pull the lever and allowed the townspeople into the mansion's party. The ghost of Archibald could've burned Dipper, Mabel, Pacifica, and everyone else in the mansion!)

The Statue Pines Twins (If Bill captured the Pines Twins he could've killed them way faster and use them as toys to bribe Ford.)

[angelpuns]

When Leo tells Donnie about the dream, will he only tell him about the parts Donnie was in? Or would he also say how Raph showed up and scared him awake?

Cuz I think hearing about Raph would tell Donnie just how bad the dream was tbh since it would be unmistakably Krang maybe

I like to think that he'd tell Donnie EVERYTHING- he would tell his twin everything, even if Big Donnie i different.

and ofc Donnie is gonna panic about it :)

Kid Leo Au Masterpost | First

[veryphi]

So like- Jason's eyes apparently turn lazarus pit green when experiencing pit rage.

Sleep deprived Tim Drake seeing it: That's so brat.

[thienvaldram]

The Doctor's Timeline (v14)

v1-v13 were somewhere else

Not Authorial Confirmation of Anything done as speculation only

(Full res version)