#was a little concerning from the outside. (i was fine!) and he started drawing lines that weren't there.

[hawnks]

Takami Keigo doesn't want to see you.

Of course, he's too well trained to say it in so many words, but when he 'forgets' his session this afternoon, you get the message.

Unfortunately for him, you're stubborn. You show up at his apartment in the dormitories, ring his bell until your fingers numb.

Only then does he crack open the door, just enough for you to catch his forbidding smile, a caustic gleam to his eyes. "What can I help you with, this fine evening?"

"You missed our appointment," you say pleasantly. "This is the third time."

"Oh, must have just slipped my mind," he says with a dismissive little wave. "I'll catch you next time."

The door slams in your face.

Being so curtly dismissed by a top ranking officer should probably send you into a panic, but the stats you pulled up for him after his no-show are even more concerning. This is quickly turning into an emergency, and unfortunately it's your job on the line if he succumbs to corruption.

Who would blame the second most powerful Sentinel alive, when there's a feckless guide as a scapegoat.

"I'm going to ring the bell again," you say, loudly.

After a moment of silence, you think he must not have heard you.

Then the door swings open. "Fine," he snaps.

You follow him to the living room, watch as he drops himself on the couch with a sigh, eyes squeezed shut.

You'd never known guiding to be this much of a chore for Sentinels. Most of your roster is rather clingy and covetous of your time. None of them has ever been late to an appointment with you.

"Well?" he prods. "Get on with it."

You hesitate. The tension he seems to be holding will make this a lot more difficult, strenuous for you both. "Do you maybe want to talk for a bit? Or I could put on some white noise."

He opens his eyes just enough to give you a cutting look. "No."

You surrender with a sigh, coming to sit next to him on the couch. Every Sentinel prefers contact a different way; some want you to hug them, pet their hair, a few have even asked you to kiss them, fuck them, though you've never fulfilled that type of request, your boundaries in this job too firm for it.

You want to ask him what would make this easier for him, but you're sure waiting any longer will only set him off. So, delicately, you take his hand.

The first draw is always the hardest, the corrupt energy being nullified by your own. Some outside force reaching in, invasive despite the relief.

Takami flinches.

You go slower, a soft steady ebb, pulling the poison from him in silken thread.

His hand relaxes in yours.

You reach deeper, welcoming the full flood between you, warmth and light suffusing you both. And it feels how it's supposed to -- natural.

When your watch chimes, signaling the sessions end, Takami blinks out of his stupor. He'd melted during the thirty minutes you worked on him, body curled toward yours, face falling onto your shoulder.

He pulls away swiftly, shocked by his own willingness to lean on you.

You rise, marking off the details of your appointment on your tablet. "I can come back tomorrow, to finish up. You haven't been guided in a long time, so I couldn't get it all in one session. Does 2pm work for you?"

He's not prepared for the question. "Um. Yeah?"

You mark that down as well, then see yourself out.

It takes three more sessions for you to fully clear the corrupted energy from his body. In his haze he admits to you the reason he's so standoffish to Guides, why he dodges his sessions with such fervor.

"It's never felt good. Always felt like I'm being held down, trapped. Made me feel antsy, nervous." He buries his face against your throat, inhaling deeply. You'd started off just holding his hand again, but now he hugs your entire arm against his chest, your fingers twined. "It's not like that with you."

"I'm glad, Mr. Takami," you return. "Please don't ignore my emails from now on."

As you make your notes, you ask him his availability for next month.

He blinks at you. "You're not coming back tomorrow?"

You check your calendar. You'd had to push back several of your regular appointments to make room for the past few days. "I'm booked solid for the next two weeks, at least."

You glance at him, taking in his appearance, his general well being. You reach a hand out to cup his cheek, urging him to meet your eyes. He startles, first, before leaning into your touch.

"You seem fine," you decide, pulling away, already heading for the door. "I'll contact you later about our next session."

He trails after you, linger at the precipice as you take the elevator back down to your floor.

...

He never ignores you emails, after that.

In fact, he sends many of his own. He gets your phone number, somehow. Some days he shows up with coffee, or snacks, sits with you on the couch while you eat.

He's always touching you during those times, brushing hair behind your ears or straightening your shirt collar. Mostly he just holds your hand, playing with your fingers or clutching it in his own lap.

You don't guide him during any of these impromptu visits, too weary from the rest of your overfull schedule -- but you've heard of this type of attachment from other Guides.

Sentinels tend to imprint on guides they have a decent connection with. Part survival instinct, part status seeking. A Sentinel without a guide is doomed. A Sentinel with a high match-rate is likely to be stronger than their peers.

But that's the thing about un-bonded Sentinels, they're always on the lookout for a better Guide, their perfect mate.

Takami is overly attached to you now, but it will pass.

...

Or so you thought.

You're sent out into the aftermath of a battle that rocks the city. Dozens of Sentinels pushed themselves to the breaking point, on the brink of corruption, about to turn into the very monsters they fight to suppress.

You spot Takami in the midst of the wreckage. Exhausted, but giving you a shakey smile when your eyes meet. He limps toward you, so glad to see you, so ready for the safety and warmth of your arms--

Someone calls your name. Urgent, an emergency. Another Sentinel with no one to take care of them.

You turn away from Takami, and you go.

He'd fought hard, but his body has grown used to the abuse over the years. He's in bad shape, but it's not life-threatening like some of the others you help today.

It's hours before you can see him.

Slumped on a curb, hands folded neatly in his lap. Like he's been waiting so patiently for you this whole time.

You come to your knees before him, letting him take your hands, draw you closer. "Why didn't you go to another Guide?"

Surely he could have found someone else, despite the chaos of the scene. If not you, one of the high ranking Guides, slotted exclusively for S-rank Sentinels.

He looks at you, trembling, confused. "I don't want another Guide."

When he asks if you'll hold him, you do. You take him in your arms, let his weight settle on you. Feel his warmth all around you, his breath against your shoulder.

"And I don't want you to guide anyone else," he murmurs.

You stroke his nape. "I know. I'm sorry. You'll find your Guide soon enough, and then you can have each other all to yourselves."

His grip tightens. He braces you against him -- instead of a heady tightness, you're constricted.

"I already found my Guide," he whispers into your throat.

Then he bites.

[ily-fictional-women]

Bloody but Beautiful

Summary: The night can bring in many dangers, many monsters, and many realizations. 

Pairing: vampire!Kate Bishop x fem!reader

Warnings: Talks of blood, minor implications of abuse, and a small dash of spice

Word count: 1448

a/n: Been gone for a long time lol. Was at a mental health low, got good, had my birthday, and got broken up with. Anyways, I’ve been obsessed with Interview with a Vampire so ya’ll are getting a vampire au! (Reblogs are welcome and critiques/advice are heavily encouraged, but please no translating.) 

Kate stands at the top of the rooftop listening for any type of commotion. But the thumping hearts coursing with rich red blood are too distracting. It’s been over a month since she treated herself to any good blood. Animal blood works. But it can only keep the urges down for so long. Tonight is the night, she's sure of it. 

Or, that is until she smells a familiar scent. “What are you doing here Y/n?” Y/n lets out a dramatic groan before laughing a little, “I swear Kate, I’m gonna be able to jumpscare you eventually.” Kate keeps her view on the city, “You are welcome to try. Again though, why are you here Y/n?” 

Y/n moves closer to Kate, wrapping her arms around her neck from behind and resting her chin on her shoulder, “Before Clint left he emphasized it was good to not go on patrol by yourself. And you weren’t at your apartment.” She’s too close Kate thinks to herself. 

It’d be so easy to do a quick turn and take a drink from her pretty neck. But her phone buzzes with a police alert before she can give too much thought to the idea of draining one of her closest friends. Y/n moves her gaze to Kate’s phone, “What is it?” 

“Hostage situation not too far from here, the tracksuit mafia is holding a few girls. Did you bring your knives?” Y/n lets go of Kate quickly flashing one of her many daggers with a grin, “Did you bring enough arrows?” Kate rolls her eyes at the tease, “Always.” 

//

Y/n takes out an electric arrow drawing it back and releasing it to take one of the guards at the front entrance. “That should be the last one on the outside, you ready to go in?” Y/n gives her an affirming nod. Kate takes another arrow shooting it to create a zip-line. 

Making it across the way the two observe the scene through the glass rooftop. If it weren’t for Y/n being here this could be quick for Kate. She could use her strength to easily knock out all the men. Then used her speed to bring the girls to safety, leaving her enough time to drain at least three of the men and dispose of the bodies before any police would find the girls safe. 

But, she also does love a challenge. “Looks like there’s about seven of them on the inside, three with guns all aimed at the girls. Four with bats or crowbars. How do you want to do this Kate?” 

“I’ll use a few of my smoke arrows giving us enough time to get in. You take out the ones without guns with your knives, I’ll use my arrows to get the ones with guns. But I’ll need you to get the girls out of there before I tie them up just in case one of them gets up. Just in case any backup arrives.” 

Y/n looks at Kate with slight concern, “Are you sure you can handle them all?” Kate grins assuringly, “I’ll be fine, are you ready?” With Y/n nodding Kate breaks the glass of the rooftop the sound already triggering the tracksuit mafia to look up. Quickly shooting a few smoke arrows though and their vision is compromised. 

Y/n drops down first based on the memory of where each man was she throws her first knife in the direction of a man with a crown bar. Hearing a loud yelp once the knife made contact she ran in the direction being able to see him from behind she put him in a chokehold long enough for him to pass out. 

With Y/n now occupied Kate aims from the rooftop as the smoke starts to clear. Before the men can start shooting she draws her arrow making sure to not aim at any lethal areas for the men. She shoots two in the shoulder with tranquilizer arrows. Then the last in the foot with a glue trap arrow. Using another arrow to knock the gun out of his hand. 

As the smoke fully clears Y/n looks up at Kate as she begins to untie the girls, “Everyone’s out like a little kid. You can come down.” Making her way down Kate gives Y/n a serious look as she unties the last girl, “You should go right now. They probably already called for backup. Get them as far away as possible, okay?” 

Y/n hesitates for a moment, “Fine.” As she leaves with the girls Kate knocks out the man she stuck with the glue trap. Beginning to pile them up so it would be easier to tie them together Kate pulls out a knife from one of the men Y/n took down licking the blood clean off of it. 

The rich taste was definitely something incomparable to animal blood. She can feel her fangs start to slip out, but she manages to control herself tying up the rest. Making her way outside she hears some yelling in a nearby alleyway. Taking a quick peek she sees a man yelling at a woman. Then he slaps her.

Wasting no time Kate uses her speed to take the woman a few blocks away noticing bruises all over her. Some old. Some new. Making her way back to the man before he could even notice the woman was gone she used her strength to toss him so hard into a nearby dumpster it leaves a dent in it.

She picks the man up by the jaw lifting him to his feet. He groans in pain, “What the fuck are you.” Kate slams him down on the ground, “Someone just trying to good. You on the other hand. You’re a monster.” She draws out her fangs, “I don’t like monsters.” Lifting him up again she sinks her teeth into his neck sucking out his blood, draining him dry. 

As she drops the man feeling satisfied she looks up to see Y/n her mouth agape. Panic immediately rises in Kate, “Y/n I- I can explain. Just don’t-” Y/n cuts her off. “You’re beautiful.” Y/n looks at Kate admiringly. Covered in blood, the moonlight giving it a slight shine. Y/n repeats again moving closer to Kate resting a hand on her bloodied cheek, “You are beautiful.”

Kate leans into Y/n’s touch, “You’re not scared?” Y/n leans closer to Kate her lips only a breath away from hers. “How could I be afraid of a beauty like yours?” Kate closes the space between them the kiss slick with blood. As things became more heated Kate pulls away looking at Y/n, her lips now tinted with red. 

“So you knew? And you don’t care?” Y/n wraps her arms around Kate once more, “No I don’t care, and I assumed you were either a vampire or a narcoleptic recluse with a hobby of archery.” 

Kate giggles kissing Y/n again, pulling away for a breath Y/n smiles. “How about we clean this up,” she gestures to the man on the ground, “then you take me back to your apartment.” 

“Deal.” 

//

Tossing their gear on the floor not wasting any time getting into the apartment Kate pushes Y/n against the entrance door kissing her like she needed it live. As Y/n’s hands move to grip at Kate’s waist Kate's hands wander up to the zipper of Y/n’s jumpsuit. 

Tying the top half around her waist her sports bra exposed, but more importantly, her neck exposed. Y/n pushed Kate away for a moment, guiding her to sit down on the couch. As Kate sits she watches as Y/n takes a seat on her lap. She rests her hand on Kate's cheek again lightly brushing her thumb.

“You can take a small drink, if you want.” Kate squits her eyes for a second, “You trust me enough for that?” Y/n nods and Kate begins kissing her again. But slower this time, as her hands move across Y/n’s body she moves her lip’s attention from Y/n’s lips to her cheek, then her jaw, but as she reaches her neck she pauses. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure.” At the confirmation, Y/n can feel Kate’s fangs slowly enter her neck. The feeling causes a sense of excitement to swell inside her. This blood was different for Kate though, it was so much better. Blood always tasted good, but blood with lust– no. Love, rushing through it. It’s a rich delicacy. A delicacy Kate could get used to. 

[splitster]

answering more asks!!

featuring pom wraith, pingo, ocs?!, and older art check it out (three's some art 💖)↓↓

THANK you!! ohhh i do have old pikmin ocs... i actually revamped my old captain a while back, i can share him:

i had a whole crew of pikmin ocs who were a part of the S.S. Harmony, they were gonna be SUCH a nuisance to everyone they ran into...

i thought about making a rescue corps oc for fun. hrmm! maybe...

AHHH thank you!! i've seen a shocking number tags and asks from people saying that I'm apparently the reason they like Dingo now? and i have to say that is so mind boggling to me, because when i first played Pikmin 4 I didn't care about him at all!! he was a nothing sandwich to me... but then i drew him a few times... and started thinking... and then things went downhill and now i REALLY like him...

(referring to this post) i think dingo is better when he's withered

(referring to this comic) I HEAR YOU... I HEAR YOU... but if any tear at all would cause oxygen poisoning, i wouldn't be able to draw them all battered and cool :(

i imagine that there's a seal around the neck in case there's a breach in the suit's lining. so as long as their backpack (life-support) works and is connected to their helmets, then they can breathe✨

(referring to this post) Olimar would be horrified because he knows Louie, and if he sees that note there's only one thing it could mean! his coworker tried to eat pom!! if pom hasn't been outed as wraith and Olimar is questioning her, she'd just say Louie bit her and then refuse to answer any follow up questions 💖

Shepherd would be... concerned. she might think they have a weird fling going on and louie's talking about a kiss? she probably wouldn't realize Louie quite literally means he ate something from pom. oops!

that's a really good question... I'll be honest, with a lot of the "when and how did x happen" questions, there's not an official timeline or anything; the pom wraith au is sort of an umbrella with a bunch of different stories and what-ifs underneath it. although there was one story where louie does find out her secret!

louie and pom end up bridging their differences (with the help of olimar), and become good friends while pom is continuing the rescue effort. then there's a very unfortunate incident where pom and louie are away from the base and they're attacked... pom has to reveal herself to defend them and she accidentally hurts louie :(

its fine though, louie doesn't care what pom is. they're both freaks in his mind and that's all that really matters. he does end up having to defend pom from olimar (who's been made vindictive through his trauma with the plasm wraith) sometime later!! here's some older art:

sure

me too! they do NOT get along... louie's kinda pissed at her for chasing him around on PNF404 and beating him in dandori battles when he just wants to stay there and vibe. pom meanwhile doesn't understand him, he pisses her off too! she likes olimar a lot, and as an outsider it looks like louie doesn't appreciate the friendship olimar offers him. to someone who's trying to understand and participate in this whole friendship business, she thinks he's ungrateful and weird. they do not get along!! at the beginning at least...

AHHHH!!! THANK YOU!!! WAHH...🥺💖💖 i'm very glad you enjoy my silly little art style!! i want to make things very squishy so i appreciate that 💖

i don't think that man is going to live!

wait actually if you eat enough maybe you just turn into a wraith. that'd be scary! hopefully olimar's there to stop him

that's a fun thought! he would probably be able to sense that something is off about her. but he'd also probably just think "she's weird like me." honestly, the whole wraith thing doesn't really matter much to him -- the only thing it changes is that pom can now offer her tendrils as a skewer for his cooking at any time and location!

i think i'm gonna call her rose wraith!! and ohh, i didn't know that... i was just gonna call her rose wraith since she has a rose head. i'm creative i promise

(referring to this post i think) AHHH hehe... honestly, when Pom first learns about Dingo's fear of blood, she only tries to keep him from it because it's really annoying dealing with your coworker when they faint. he's like a sack of potatoes when he's knocked out. but yes, as they become actual friends pom will (subtly) do her best to keep blood away from dingo. it's fortunate she doesn't have any!

she might not get phobias, but she understands what its like to have a crippling fear, so she's empathetic!

THANK you. he has sunglasses. he's pretty cool

AHH THANK YOU... i like them a lot... 👉👈

let the marching pikmin give you the energy you need to practice🫡

[duskspring]

Comfort From The Storm - Phantom&Rain

Domestic December - Day 9

Summary: Phantom has never experienced a topside storm before, Rain comforts him

Content (do let me know if I forgot anything!): Traumatised Phantom, panic attack, hurt/comfort

Word count: ~1.2k

A/N: I didn't really feel inspired the day 9 prompts, so I used the one from day 8 I hadn’t yet

Phantom awoke with a startle. His first thought was that some of his new found packmates may be fooling around and accidentally got too loud. But that’s not what it sounded like. Strong continuous drumming assaulted the world above.

He tried waiting, seeing if it may quiet down by itself. Of course it didn’t. It only worsened with a banging loud enough to be caused by a bomb, at least he thought it was. The quintessence in the air felt erratic, out of balance.

A soft mewl left his lips involuntarily. The chaos of the sounds and feels was reminiscent of the pit. There were certainly good parts of hell, but also very, very bad ones. Cold, loud, lonely.

He’d seen it when he was but a kit. Separated from his pack, lost and afraid he’d never find his way back.

In present time he almost felt like he was back there. The panic was so reminiscent of that time. His chest tightened, his breath short. He was able to see but couldn’t register anything in his line of sight, preoccupied with his fear.

Outside in the hall, Rain had been prancing around the abbey all night. Storms always gave him huge energy boosts, making it hard for him to sleep. He was just on his way to get something from his room, when he heard the distressed sound beyond Phantom’s door. He came up to it and listened carefully, hearing it again.

“Phantom?” The call sounded garbled to Phantom’s ears, ignored by his lacking focus. After a second the door softly creaked open, revealing Rain’s concerned gaze, “Thought I heard you cry. Are you alright?”

The younger ghoul looked up in a combination of shock and confusion. He didn’t know how to respond, couldn’t even begin to think about it. It didn’t help his growing panic at all. His chest heaved with hyperventilations.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s ok. It’s alright,” Rain rushed to his side on the bed, rubbing soothing circles into his back, “Breath with me. Come on, in… out… in… out…”

Phantom tried his best to follow along, getting better but not by much. He started shaking like a leaf.

“I know it’s hard, but try to keep talking to me. What’s wrong?”

He tried. But he was nearly unable to draw in a breath. It felt like all his energy had been drained at once. He breathed in as much oxygen as he could, which was barely anything, “Have we… reached… the end?”

“The end?” Rain didn’t understand, “Of what?”

Phantom finally looked up into his eyes, “Earth.”

The water ghoul’s eyes squinted in thought, trying to decipher the other’s thought process. Then it dawned on him, “Is this your first topside storm?”

“Storm…” Phantom responded, not quite a question but also not understanding.

Rain nodded to himself, “I know it’s probably hard, but do you think you can get up? Everything is perfectly fine, I can prove it.” He stood up himself, keeping an arm out for support. His intention was to bring him up the stairs to a window. Show him that it was just a bit of water.

Phantom stared for a few seconds before moving a shaky hand forward. He grasped onto Rain’s arm tightly. The water ghoul carefully pulled him up a little, slinging an arm around the smaller ghoul’s shoulder for support.

“We’ll go slow.” He said, starting to take small steps towards the door, “Have you slept at all?” He asked, both wanting to know the answer and needing to keep Phantom talking.

Breathing got a little easier, but Phantom’s legs were so heavy he would’ve toppled over if it hadn’t been for Rain’s support, “Yes… Woke up… with the sound.”

“Have you felt this way before?”

His steps staggered, the memories coming back to the forefront of his mind. He winced again, clinging onto Rain a little more.

“I’ve got you.” Rain smiled kindly, his eyes genuine.

The further they walked, the louder the beating of the heavy rain drops on the abbey sounded. The water ghoul understood why one might be scared of it, even without the knowledge of Phantom’s trauma.

A clap of thunder took him out of his thoughts, but only pushed Phantom further into his. He let out a sob, collapsing onto the ground. His arms came up to cover the side of his head, his chest spasming in hyperventilation.

Rain was half pulled to the ground as well. He let himself fall to his knees in front of his companion, putting his cool hands on his cheeks.

“Phantom, hey. It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m here. It’s just the thunder, it can’t hurt you.” He kept going, “Can you look at me?”

Phantom shook his head violently, curling up on himself even further.

“Phantom. You’re safe, I promise. I…” Rain trailed off. A very hard, but possibly very helpful idea in his mind. He needed to do it. He needed to try. For Phantom.

He sat up a little more upright, his focus shifting to the storm outside. He visualised all the raindrops, the darkened clouds and raging wind. He couldn’t control it all, but he could at least try helping as much as he could.

Phantom panicked when the sounds settled down. Was the fear making him deaf? He finally looked up again, searching for any sign from Rain that he wasn't completely losing his mind. He was met with perhaps the most majestic sight he’d ever seen.

Rain sat cross legged with full focus, his eyes closed, tail swishing over the floor rhythmically. His jaw, as well as most of his muscles, were clenched, causing him to shake lightly. Phantom knew exactly what he was doing. He was stopping the rain from hitting the building, greatly decreasing the noise.

“Rain…” He didn’t know what to say. His shock at the amount of power and control over Rain’s element being displayed shook him out of his panic for a moment. He was bewildered, caught in an admirational state.

The silence lasted another minute before Rain dropped to the ground with a harsh breath, all the water coming down again. But Phantom wasn’t focused on that anymore, only worrying about the amount of energy his friend had just used for him.

“Why would you- Are you ok?” The Ministry knew some strong ghouls, but never had he seen such a display in person.

Rain waved his hand dismissively, though his upper body still leaning on the floor in exhaustion, “I’ve got it,” He exhaled, reaching over for Phantom’s hand, “What about you?”

“I… don’t know?” He responded hesitantly.

“It really won’t hurt you,” Rain explained again, “It’s just water and sounds. I’ll keep you safe.” He finally looked up again, that same genuine smile back on his face.

Phantom started shaking again, but not in fear this time. He was so grateful, nearly jumping Rain in order to hold him in a hug. He buried his face in Rain’s chest, enjoying his smell and cool skin. The water ghoul’s arms wrapped around him tightly.

“Are you ready to try and sleep again?” He asked, dismissing his original plan to find a window. Phantom whined again, “I can stay with you.” Rain proposed in response.

Phantom held onto him even tighter at the suggestion, wordlessly nodding into his chest.

“Of course, baby ghoul. Let’s go, you need the rest. I’ll stay right by your side.”

[My Main Masterlist | Domestic December Masterlist]

[beeseverywhen]

The site manager (volunteer lackey for landlord) (usually acts like he hates me tho I strongly suspect he doesn't and has no idea that he rubs everyone up the wrong way.) came to talk to me (even tho I'd done a circuit of the nearby park after I saw him at the gate when I arrived). I'd successfully avoided him for over 6 months so was gonna happen eventually I guess lol. And he was surprisingly nice! He was still passive aggressive and kinda rude but he was only at the level he shows to everyone else and had left off the extra level he usually reserves for me.(He's harsh to everyone but usually has a special axe to grind where I'm involved.) He didn't even threaten to evict me! Just kept congratulating me on 'finally doing what needs to be done.' He did tell me about all the other ppl he's intending to evict which I suspect was an attempt to remind me that eviction is always on the table but hey! No direct threat!

Him being so nice kinda gave me whiplash tbh. First of all he's let me avoid him for months which??? Suspicious. And now he's being all nice???

Ugh very possibly overdid it at the garden today and concerned about the energy payback next week. But!!! Made massive progress in the war against the veg patch returning to grassland. Managed to water as well so hoping next batch of strawberries might be a bit healthier (at first they were the usual size but tasted pretty bland but recently they have been growing absolutely miniature and lumpy. I strongly suspect its cause they are dehydrated cause we've had no rain!!! and I've been too tired to water them at all (any watering I do manage has been going on the establishing plants and those that won't grow at all without it))

I've got celery, squashes, corn and beets all doing well and tomatoes, cucumber, celery and kohl rabi doing less well, but yes! Hopefully some will survive till harvest. No strawberries to pick this time (I didn't look tbh. They are overwhelming me lol) but loads of raspberries! They are strangely thriving this year. And I've got multiple varieties doing well (3 different colours!!!)

Thyme and rosemary are doing very well too

Flowers pretty much all died this year but there's a few that have come up themselves in the beds

[inamindfarfaraway]

I can perfectly picture a Batman: Wayne Family Adventures two-partner that properly introduces Harvey Dent, Two-Face, their relationships with Bruce and vice versa. But I can't draw in the slightest. So I'm going to script it and you'll have to use your imagination. It’s a little longer than the average WFA two-parter. But given how many thoughts and feelings I have about Harvey, I’d say it’s impressively concise. For me. If you like how I write Harvey, I recommend my fanfic spotlighting him as a teenager, compared to which I must warn you this script is positively fluffy. Read it on AO3 here! If you want to draw any of this, please tell me in advance and use the updated original post or the AO3 fic, not necessarily your reblog.

A Second Opinion

Part 1

[Panel one. Vertical rectangle, full screen. Nighttime. The exterior of an abandoned building that is notably more decrepit on the right side, Two-Face's current base of operations, from a distance and high angle. The Batmobile is parked outside. Bruce as Batman is seen on the rooftop from behind, striding stiffly toward the skylight. A speech bubble floats in the air above him.]

Barbara: Are you sure you don't want backup?

[Panel two. Barbara as Oracle watches with a frown of wary concern at her desk in the Clocktower.]

I know these confrontations are very personal for you -

[Panel three. Bruce leans over the skylight seen from below it, about to kick it in. His fists and jaw are clenched, teeth gritted and eyes narrowed sharply; even for Batman on a mission, he's in a bad mood.]

Bruce: I'm fine. I have him right where I want him.

[A speech bubble floats in the space below the panel.]

Harvey: I have him right where I want him!

[Panel four. Fade into a flashback. In stark contrast to the dull and dark blues, greys and blacks of the present scene, the flashback panels are full of light, saturated and warm colours. Harvey Dent stands at a round red table outside a café on a sunny day, beaming. He's a handsome, sturdy man with neat, short black hair, a semi-formal brown suit and wide brown eyes. He was seated, but has risen and slammed his palms down on the table in his enthusiuam. Slightly low angle, like the camera is on the table, and to the right so we have a better view of his left side. A gold wedding ring gleams on his finger. His introduction box reads: ‘Harvey Dent, District Attorney. Gotham’s best lawyer, technically and morally.’.]

And think of the implications! If the Salvatore Maroni can face justice, so can anyone.

[Panel five. He paces a little behind his chair, gesturing animatedly. Motion lines trail and curve around the other way behind him. His right side is now in profile. Same angle, but pulled back to see over the shoulder of a younger Bruce wearing a nondescript black shirt.]

If his empire can crumble, so can any criminal organization or corrupt institution, no matter how powerful. This trial could be a beacon of hope for Gotham. Proof that the law can actually help people, that the spirit of it is alive.

[Panel six. Opposite Harvey, Bruce is sitting comfortably. He has notable eyebags and less light in his eyes than Harvey, but smiles in earnest admiration.]

Bruce: I think you're right. Maroni used to own the city, but ever since you, Jim and Batman started working together...

[Panel seven. Side shot of both of them from Bruce's right and Harvey's left, showing them down to their legs. Bruce leans forward. Harvey has sat back down. In the background, their memories conjure a vision of Batman and Harvey shaking hands before the Bat-Signal. The figures' lower halves fade to translucent above and behind their real counterpart's heads. That Harvey is smiling too and the one leaning forward, while Batman's mouth is a flat line but his eyes are soft.]

things have changed more than I could have imagined.

Harvey: I just hope we can keep it up. Maybe in a few years, Gotham won't need a Batman.

[Panel eight. Close-up on the right half of Bruce's face, a narrow vertical box in the upper left section of the screen. His expression is of shock and vulnerability, although he isn’t offended. He has simply never considered being able to end his crusade before. Panel nine. A bigger square containing his entire face and taking up the rest of the screen.]

Bruce: Do you really believe that?

[Panel ten. Closer front shot of Harvey at eye-level. We can now see that he actually does have bags under his eyes. He's more pensive and his smile drops.]

Harvey: Yeah. I mean, Bats is a great guy. I don't want him to just disappear. But his methods...

[Panel eleven. Deep shot. Two petty crooks run through an alleyway at night while Batman looms behind them atop a ledge, a huge, hulking silhouette crouched animalistically with piercing white eyes and clawed fingers raised to pounce. The scene is somewhat abstracted to highlight the criminals' emotions. The alley walls seem to be closing in on them and Batman's curling cape flows into the surrounding darkness. Angle is above the very small-looking criminals, but below Batman such that his striking, soulless eyes glare right at the reader. Harvey's speech bubbles are in the top left and bottom right corners, framed by the blackness.]

fighting violence with violence and terror with terror... they're hardly ideal, are they?

[Panel eleven. Harvey places his right hand on Bruce's left arm in pride, who is too busy processing to return his smaller, softer smile of personal affection. Side shot from Harvey's left and Bruce's right that cuts them off at the torso.]

In my opinion, the work you're doing with the Wayne Foundation does better at lowering crime rates in the long run.

[Panel twelve. Over-the-shoulder shot again, Harvey's this time to show Bruce full of love, relaxing and leaning into the touch.]

Bruce: Well, in my opinion, you're a better person than me or Batman.

[His second speech bubble descends into the empty space.]

And I’d love to see the day Batman can retire.

[Panel thirteen and fourteen occupy different vertical halves of the screen and the same horizontal space for half of their lengths, the former higher, the second lower. The first shows Harvey from the right cut off at the thighs, in a courtroom, delivering some kind of unwritten passionate declaration; on his left and in the background, the defendant, the aforementioned crime boss Maroni in a nice black suit, holds an opaque bottle labelled as cough medicine and smirks viciously. The second is a close-up of Harvey’s head on the floor. Only the right half of his face is visible, the left turned away, and he is howling in unfathomable agony, tears streaming down his cheek. The stem of his speech bubble reaches down to the top of panel fifteen. This is a straightforward frontal shot of Bruce in the present. He stands tense and grim, poised to throw a Batarang with his right arm. Silver moonbeams shine through the broken skylight. Layered in front of the panel’s top border and behind Bruce, Harvey’s scream appears to ring through the cowl’s bat ears and extends continuously offscreen in extra large, blood-red lettering. The bubble fades around it to make it stand against the background.]

Harvey: ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Bruce: Two-Face.

[Panel sixteen. Same angle of Harvey and Two-Face. The left half of their face is ravaged by raw, pink chemical burn scars and has a bloodshot eye with burned lids; even their right eye is sunken and shadowed with a menacing glint; their hair is the same on the right, but bleached white, longer and wild on the left; they wear an angular, elegant suit divided vertically in alternating black and white. They’re smiling smugly, posture calm, confident and commanding. Their right hand aims a pistol at Bruce, and the camera. The other hand, bereft of a ring, holds their two-headed coin. Their introduction box reads: ‘Harvey Dent & Two-Face. All the drive. Fractional sanity. Half the morals, or less.’. The outlines of their speech bubbles are smooth as usual on the right and rough and scribbled on the left when both alters in the system are in relative cooperation - a dual consciousness referred to as ‘H/TF’ in the script - completely smooth when the still goodhearted, but deeply troubled Harvey is speaking alone, and completely irregular for the much more merciless, callous Two-Face personality alone.]

H/TF: Bats! Let us guess: you didn’t bring any backup because you have a self-righteous hero complex about us in particular?

[Panel seventeen. Closer frontal shot of Bruce scowling and hunching his shoulders in shameful concession.]

Two-Face: Good. Those Robins are nothing but trouble.

[Panel eighteen. Long rectangle panning down the room. Bruce and H/TF are in the background as H/TF gesture with their left arm to two men dressed like high-level businessmen in the foreground, tied to chairs with a gun pressed to each of their heads by H/TF's identical twin henchmen. The captives are bruised, cut and slumped in exhaustion.]

H/TF: Now, take one step toward us and the hostages get it. Don't go feeling sorry for them. They work for Oswald Cobblepot. His reform is fake -

H/TF and Bruce: Obviously.

H/TF: And they've already told us everything.

[Panel nineteen. Horizontal side shot from Bruce's left and H/TF's right, to frame the hostages between them.]

H/TF: But if you go after us, you'll lose your best lead on his criminal activities.

Bruce: And people will be dead.

H/TF: Yeah, whatever.

[Panel twenty. Close shot of H/TF from the left. They look left, contemplating their coin in their open hand. One face is corroded and blackened by acid, the other shiny and clean, both visible as it's drawn in a motion frame while spinning.]

You say that making our decisions based on chance is irrational and unhealthy, but believing in free will isn't all roses either. So many tough choices.

[Panel twenty-one is small box in the middle of the screen capturing the impact of the Batarang knocking the gun out of one of the henchmen's hand. H/TF's speech bubble floats in the space below it.]

There's never a win-win, is there?

[Panel twenty-two, a vertical rectangle. In the lower foreground and to the right, a gleeful H/TF bolt to the slight right of the camera, relishing both their escape and how unhappy their enemy is. In the background, Bruce restrains the armed henchman with a bolas while knocking the unarmed one out behind him with a backhanded blow. His cape billows with his rapid movement.]

At least the coin lets us be unpredictable!

[Panel twenty-three. Angle is essentially Bruce's POV. H/TF glance over their right shoulder, showing their unscarred features twisted in mockery, and sarcastically wave with their gun. They're just beyond the doorway.]

By the way, we're very good at getting two things done at once. You might wanna check your car.

[Panel twenty-four. Outside. Bruce's shadow falls from below the border diagonally over the Batmobile. Its tyres are slashed. Its fuel is leaking out into a puddle underneath it. In the next panel, we see him at eye height past the front end of the car. He has fallen to his knees, head hung.]

Bruce: Oracle? You were right. I need help.

[The black sheen of the Batmobile fades into a flat black background below. But then, within the darkness, floats a speech bubble.]

Barbara: You've already got it.

[Panel twenty-six. The first two sentences are in a bubble at the top, connected to the final sentence’s one dead in the middle. She's viewed from behind at a low angle looking up at her computer monitor. Her shoulders are assertively squared. Her security camera footage is split in two; Bruce and the crippled Batmobile are in the left window and H/TF's getaway car (also black on one side and white on the other) racing along a road in the right.]

We've been gathering intel. We know where Two-Face will strike next - and you know him as well as he knows you. Let's make a plan B.

Part 2

[Panel one. Distant establishing shot of a brightly lit black-tie gala in a vast, ornate hall, the tasteful decor dominated by white, light blues and silver. A caption informs us that this is 'The Cobblepot 'Charity' Gala'. Oswald Cobblepot is in the heart of the crowd, shaking hands with some official. Bruce Wayne is within earshot, but nearer the double doors. Panel two is a lower, tighter horizontal rectangle where Oswald and his guests are staring at the camera with tiny black dots for eyes in alarm at the doors slamming open. H/TF’s shadow falls over the floor. Panel three shows that Harvey and Two-Face have invited themselves, holding an assault rifle in both hands. Three smaller vertical panels on alternating sides of the screen show the doors being locked by pairs of Two-Face's minions in contrasting, complemetary outfits and wielding guns. The bird’s eye view of panel seven makes it clear that the guests are surrounded and trapped. Panel eight cuts back to H/TF.]

H/TF: Good evening, scum and enablers. We're -

[Panel nine takes us closer to focus on their - or rather, Harvey's - surprise.]

Harvey: Bruce? What are you doing here?

[Panel ten is a frontal shot of Bruce, like the camera's been reversed in the same position. His confusion is an act, but his concern is real.]

Bruce: I'm the richest man in Gotham and this is a high-society gala. What are you doing here?

[Panel eleven. Side shot that doesn’t show the scarring. Harvey lowers the gun, eyes softening as Bruce reaches out to him.]

I thought we agreed that you still needed treatment.

Harvey: I…

[Panel twelve. Frontal short. Remembering his mission, Harvey loses a degree of control and the two embittered alters lightly push Bruce away and point the gun straight ahead at Oswald with a glare. Motion lines trail from their arm.]

H/TF: That doesn’t matter! What matters is taking down the Penguin!

[Panel thirteen. Oswald presses a hand to his chest, somehow at once mortified and supercilious. You can hear the melodramatic sad violin. Beside him, his associates are cowering and aghast.]

Oswald: Why, everyone knows that I’m reformed. Attacking me when I’m doing good just proves how far you’ve fallen.

[Panel fourteen. H/TF snap at him furiously, and their speech bubble is large, spiky (still with the different texturing) and has a red outline for emphasis. Their eyes are stylized as flames; their right eye’s flame is orange and the left’s blue. Bruce is giving Oswald an intense sidelong glare. His lettering is smaller and his bubble's outline dashed to indicate that he's speaking under his breath.]

H/TF: SHUT UP!

Bruce: Shut up.

[Panel fifteen. Wide low angle shot up into the shadowy rafters. Damian, Dick and Tim are hiding in their vigilante identities and watching the scene below intently, at the ready. Their speech bubbles are dashed as they’re whispering. Damian is tense like a coiled spring, hand is on the hilt of his sword. Dick’s facial expression is blatantly disdainful of the villain in question, but his position and body language are calmer. Tim is all business.]

Damian: Shouldn’t we -

Tim: Not until the signal, remember? We don’t want to escalate and endanger the civilians.

[Panel sixteen. Close-up profile shot of Dick.]

Dick: Yeah, I hate Two-Face, but Bruce has got through to Harvey before.

[Panel seventeen. H/TF aim their gun with their right hand as their left reaches into their pocket to take out their coin. Their jaw is tight in composed ire. Diagonal angle to show Bruce on their right, overlaid by the gun. HT/F's speech bubble is near their head, but Harvey's is under the panel-dividing horizontal line of the gun.]

H/TF: You have the right to remain silent, forever.

Harvey: Bruce, get out of here.

[Panel eighteen, a square. Bruce is alone in the frame. He folds his arms, Batman's stern, steely presence creeping into his expression and posture.]

Bruce: Whatever you're willing to do to those people, you can do to me.

[Panel ninteen. Same composition with H/TF. They frown, the unscarred features looking regretful while the scarred ones look annoyed and disdainful.]

H/TF: Fine. Just stay out of our way.

[Panel twenty. Close up as they flip their coin. We get the blurring motion displaying both sides again. The next panel is a repeat shot where Bruce’s right hand snatches the coin in midair.]

H/TF: HEY! Give it back!

[Panel twenty-one. Extreme close-up, narrow horizontal parallelogram focused on Bruce's defiant stare. His speech bubble floats close underneath.]

Bruce: No.

[Panel twenty-two. He holds the coin out of reach. The camera is angled over and to the side of Bruce's left shoulder, to put as much visual distance between his outstretched right hand and H/TF as possible, Bruce's body in between them. H/TF’s left hand is balled into fist around the lowered gun while their right gestures like they’re arguing a case in a courtroom. They look resentful, but also coldly resigned. The speech bubbles can extend out of the panel. In the backgroud, some of the guests are depicted as simplified, featureless figures.]

H/TF: They aren’t worth sticking your neck out for. Nobody in Gotham is -

Harvey: I learned that the hard way.

Bruce: And I’ve learned otherwise. This won’t make things better, Harvey.

[Panel twenty-three. Two-Face fixes the gun on Bruce with a sadistic, unhinged snarl that’s distinctly his own.]

Two-Face: Listen, Wayne, I don’t care for you a bit. Give us our coin back or I’ll -

[Panel twenty-four. Bruce raises an eyebrow.]

Bruce: But what if it’s good heads?

[Panel twenty-five. Two-Face freezes. A ‘Twitch’ sound effect is at the corner of his right eye. Panel twenty-seven. A henchman aims his own gun with nervous eagerness.]

Henchman: I'll get your coin for you, boss!

[Panel twenty-six. The vigilantes leap down from the rafters. Dick's already thrown a Wingding to disarm him that flies downward rotating and seems to cut the shape of the panel, which has a tapering lower end.]

Dick: No!

[Large red 'BANG!' sound effect between panels. Panel twenty-seven is a small box in the middle of the screen showing the Wingding knocking the smoking gun away a split-second too late. Panel twenty-eight. Bruce and Harvey in the background and the bullet in the foreground are centred. Harvey slams into Bruce and knocks him down with his full weight, briefly putting himself in the path of the bullet.]

Harvey: Bruce!

[Panel twenty-nine. Long, vertical rectangle panning down from above the vigilantes standing in dramatic heroic landing poses at the top of the frame, wearing varyingly emotive expressions of shock, to Bruce lying propped up by his elbow and Harvey on his hands and knees at the bottom. The discarded assault rifle hits the floor between Harvey and the vigilantes with a 'Clatter' sound effect in yellow, uneven text. The coin slips out of Bruce's hand with a motion line to rest between him and Harvey. Panel thirty. Angle at eye level with Bruce and Harvey. Bruce sits up. He stares at Harvey with shining eyes and the beginnings of a smile as he processes what just happened, and what didn’t precede it.]

Bruce: You saved my life.

[Panel thirty-one. Angle is behind Bruce’s head. Harvey avoids eye contact, showing Bruce his unscarred profile. He’s solemn and though he too has a relieved hint of a smile, it doesn’t reach his eyes.]

Harvey: You never stop trying to save me. It was the least I could do.

[Panel thirty-two. Harvey’s POV. Low angle, tilted up at Bruce on his feet, offering his hand to help him up. We can tell that it’s Harvey’s perspective with both eyes because the left half of the image is dim and blurry due to the damage the acid did to his left eye. The speech bubbles are exclusively on the right.]

Bruce: It isn’t too late, Harvey. You can still heal. You can get better, be better.

[Panel thirty-three. Close-up on the right half of Harvey’s face, a narrow vertical box in the upper left section of the screen. His expression is of tentative, wary hope and raw vulnerability. He has wanted to end his crusade throughout its duration, but never been able to. Panel thirty-four. A bigger square containing his entire face and taking up the rest of the screen.]

Harvey: Do you really believe that?

[Panel thirty-five. Side shot that now only shows the side shot of Harvey’s face. Bruce kneels down be closer to eye level with him.]

Bruce: Yes. Always, I’ve been where you are. Feeling like you can never be more than all your pain and anger. But if you want a second opinion, I think you’re a better person than you know.

[Panel thirty-four. A square in the middle of the screen. Harvey’s right hand reaches out to Bruce’s waiting one, but lingers, tense and trembling, above the coin. Panel thirty-five. Vertical rectangle. Harvey shrinks in on himself, hunched over with his face buried in his arms and hands clutching his hair; perhaps he doesn’t trust himself not to pick up the coin and give Two-Face a means to make harmful decisions, just can’t make another choice of his own or both. Around him blackness with spiky, scribbled inner edges consume the screen like reality is fracturing or dissolving, or some all-consuming destructive force is coming for him.]

Harvey: Just… just take us to Arkham. We deserve it. We need help.

[The black extends, replacing the white background. But then, within the darkness, floats a speech bubble.]

Bruce: You’ve already got it.

[Fade into panel thirty-six. Horizontal rectangle. Distant, high angle. The black lightens to purple and becomes the night sky, which is warming to pink at the first moment of dawn. Harvey is handcuffed, about to enter a police car on his right. A cop is escorting him. However, Bruce has his left arm around his shoulders and they’re both in relatively good moods, similar to how they were in the flashback.]

Harvey: When did you get so optimistic, Mr Gothic McBrooding?

Bruce: Someone has to be. And hey, I had a good teacher.

[reigenkills]

girl why is there plot

ao3 | PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | 7 | 8

You keep an ear out for news of the old man and his cursed son Elrick. Being a cursed creature yourself, you've have some sense of solidarity for your fellow unfortunate bastards. And while you don't trust yourself not to go into a depression nap if you try only to fail to save this kid, you still hold on to some hope that he's somehow gonna pull through with this.

A day and a half after the incident at the bar, you hear from local gossip that Elrick is still holding on. Somehow. Whatever's going on with him, ol' Wolfie himself hasn't come to collect yet.

Maybe it's not his time. Death had said something about not meddling with the affairs of life unless it concerned him, and for all that you've bit him, he's refrained from hurting you too badly even though you know full well he could. You don't know all the rules and regulations of being death incarnate, but there must be some line in the sand he can't cross.

You crack the Evil Witch's spellbook and start hunting down whatever you can find that can counter a sleeping spell. 

By the afternoon, you've got little scraps of notes bookmarking possible answers. There's, of course, the classic cure-all - True Love's Kiss; there's the Fountain of Youth, where someone gives a part of their lifespan to someone else, but it won't break the sleeping spell, only buy time until you find another solution; there's a Crossroads Deal, where for a price, any spell can be broken; and there's, of course, finding the original spell caster and having them break the curse.

Things aren't promising, but at least you've got something.

You ask Muffet for directions to Elrick's house. She draws you a map on a napkin and tells you to mind the potholes on the way.

The boy's family lives in a farmhouse in the outskirts of Poisonapple. According to Muffet, the father is a farmer, Elrick's older brother is a Huntsman, and Elrick himself is a shepherd boy. Less than ideal for whatever his beau's family's status is. You can see why he'd get screwed over.

You trudge down the pathway to the farmhouse,  pulling your hood up as a cold breeze blows by. The sky is heavy with clouds tonight, and you can hear the rumble of thunder in the distance. Hopefully you won't get caught in the storm on your way back to your inn.

The lamps hanging from the farmhouse creak and rattle in the wind. You eye them warily, stepping away from them, and raise your fist to knock on the front door.

A tall, burly, man with tired eyes opens it for you. He looks like he hasn't slept in days, and it shows in his voice when he croaks out: "Yes?"

"I don't have a clear cut answer for how to wake your brother up, but I might have some things that can help," you say. 

The Huntsman narrows his eyes at you, studying you from head to foot. "You don't look like no witch."

"I'm not, I just know some magic." Just like you know how to hit a drum. No training and no intricate knowledge of tips and tricks, but you know you have to hit it in order to make a noise. It's not the best method for magic, but as long as you follow the instructions, you should be fine. It's worked for you so far.

The Huntsman grunts. After a moment, he steps aside and lets you in.

You pull your hood off and let out a sigh of relief, realizing you'd been freezing in the cold outside once the warmth of the house hits you.

"What do we do?" The Huntsman asks.

"I was told you live with your father," you say. "I think we should discuss this with him."

The Huntsman grunts again, but he leads you to the living room and ushers you to sit. He disappears into a hallway right after, and you hear a door open; he's in the backyard, probably. As you wait, you pull out your spellbook from your satchel, arranging the notes you've pinned between the pages on the table.

The Hunstman returns with his father a few minutes later. The old man's eyes widen as he recognizes you.

"Witch," he says.

"I'm a mercenary, not a witch," you say. "I just have some knowledge from dealing with witches."

"You can help us?"

"I have some terms, first."

The old man nods, quickly moving to sit down while his eldest son eyes you with suspicion and remains standing.

"When you address me, please say can you, or may you, or please," you say. "I am not a dog. Don't tell me what to do so flippantly."

"...and?" the Huntsman asks.

"That's it. Overstep and I'm out the door." You smile thinly. "All I ask is some politeness."

"Huh." The man lets out a huff and takes the seat beside his father. "Okay, can you help us?"

You nod, and present to them your notes, turning the papers around so they can read it, as they're both sitting across you. "Obviously, there's True Love's Kiss, but we have no idea how we can contact your son's beloved, and we might not have enough time to save him if we kidnap her. The Fountain of Youth can buy us some time, but it swaps a portion of someone's lifespan for someone else's."

"That wouldn't wake my brother up, would it?" the Huntsman asks.

"No, it's a transference spell. Nothing to do with breaking curses, but it'll reset our clock." You push a sheet of paper towards them. "This one isn't the most optimal, but I've worked many a job concerning Crossroads Deals. As long as you pay up, you can just about ask for anything you want."

"How much is the payment?" the old man asks, wringing his hands together. 

You glance to the Huntsman with some pity. He, at least, seems to know what a Crossroads Deal entails. "It's a what. It's demon magic. They ask for your soul."

The old man sags back in his seat. Alarmingly, a deep look of thought passes over his face. The Huntsman flips the page over to hide the instructions on a Deal away. "You got anything else?"

"We can find the original spellcaster and get them to undo the curse," you say. 

The Huntsman's face falls. There are barely any witches in the area, so if the aristocratic family that's cursed his brother got a spell from one, they probably live miles from here. Maybe they're from a completely different island, even. 

"Could you find the spellcaster?" he asks.

"I could try, but your brother doesn't have enough time," you say. He nods jerkily, frowning down at the table in silence. You lean back in your seat and turn your attention to the window, watching the storm and giving the father and son some privacy.

The Huntsman clears his throat. "Can you…give us some space?"

"Of course." You rise from your seat, taking your spellbook and your notes and tucking them under your arm. "I'll be outside."

Outside is cold and windy, and half of the lamps have already blown out from the chilly draft around you. You draw your hood up over your head again and stuff your spellbook back in your satchel, drawing the rest of your cloak closer to yourself.

A gust of wind snuffs the rest of the lamps at the front of the house out. In the dim light, you can barely see anything. 

There's a flash of lightning to your left. You turn, attention instinctively caught by light, and find yourself looking up at the tall shadow that looms over you.

Twin pinpricks of red stare down at you. In the cold and the dark, you remember exactly how menacing Death can be when he wants.

"Mercenary," he greets.

"Señor Muerte," you say, because you've got manners and he's probably on duty and not in the mood to mess with you, if he's so serious. "So the boy dies, then, after all?"

He chuckles, a low throaty sound that comes out more intimidating than mirthful. "We'll see. His brother's still thinking things over."

"So you're…waiting to see if he does?" you ask. "And then you're scaring the dad into a heart attack?"

"They can't see me, Mercenary. You only can because I want you to." he says. "And Death is patient. I always wait."

"I thought that was supposed to be Love is patient." You snort. "So the kid's either gonna live or die tonight depending on what his brother decides?"

"Yep," he says. "Would have been a straightforward visit if you hadn't come here telling them about the Fountain of Youth, but, look at you. Altruistic little thing that you are."

Ah, shit, is he here to kick your ass for meddling with death or something?

"At ease, Mercenary," he says, laughing slightly. "I'm not going to collect your soul just yet. You didn't completely overturn the balance of nature, don't flatter yourself like that."

"I thought you just, like, knew when it's people's time."

"I do. Every action has its equal opposite reaction, and when people make certain choices, they shape and change their paths," Death says. "Sometimes those paths get them killed, sometimes they don't. When they're on track to kick the bucket, I come fetch them."

"So is Fate, like, bullshit?"

"No, my sister's very real. She's a lot less complicated than you people think she is, though."

You hum, nodding. That…makes sense, you suppose. And it's somewhat comforting to know free will does exist, to some extent.

There's a clatter behind you. You look up just in time as the breeze bangs a lamp against the underside of the overhang. Ugh. It'll be a strong storm tonight.

"Don't suppose I can hitch a ride for when you do your whole disappearing act," you say.

"Hah, tough shit," Death says. "Walk in the rain on your own; maybe then I can snatch you off this mortal coil a little earlier."

"Pipe dream if I've ever heard one, lobo." You chuckle. "You're not getting my soul until I wring every ounce of misery from it by my own damn hands."

"Eh, your lifespans are barely anything to me."

"Yeah, yeah, flex being the grim reaper or whatever." You turn around to glance in the house, and smile as you spot the Huntsman by the window. You know he probably can't hear you over the wind, but you ask anyway: "Well?"

The man blinks, like he's waking from a trance. He moves away from the window and opens the door, beckoning you back inside. Behind you, you can hear Death move, but just as he's said, the Huntsman doesn't appear to notice him.

He steps in with you, ducking under the doorway carefully. You have half a mind to ask if it's possible for him to bump into it if he's somewhat incorporeal, but you'd probably look like you're talking to thin air in front of the Huntsman.

"So?" you ask the Huntsman instead.

"Uh - my dad and I talked," he says, motioning to where his father was still sitting on the couch, his hands wrung together and a concerned, but resigned look on his face. "We want to buy some time for Elrick first."

"Fountain of Youth, then?"

"Yes," he says. "I'll swap a week of my life for Elrick."

"And after?"

"We want you to find the one who made his curse," he says. "But - we probably can't pay you in money, but we can give you our harvest - "

You raise a hand, motioning for him to stop. He does.

"Even I don't know if I can find this spellcaster on time. Think about that if I'm successful," you say.

Death leans over to you and says: "Not really selling your services as a mercenary there."

"My skills are more suited for clean-up," you say, both as an answer and a clarification for Elrick's family. "Not detective work."

"That's fine," the old man by the couch says. "Please just help us."

"I'll do what I can." You turn to the Huntsman. "Now, the Fountain of Youth?"

He nods. "Tell me what to do."

You've packed spell ingredients in your satchel just in case they chose to do the Fountain of Youth. You wouldn't have brought it up if you didn't think there was a possibility they wouldn't bite. So you spend the next few minutes throwing yarrow, lavender, and dragonfly wings into a bowl and mashing it all into a poultice. Afterwards, you pull out a dagger from your boot and motion for the Huntsman's hand.

"I need you and your brother's blood," you say. He warily offers you his palm, and you pull it closer so you can get to his lower arm, cutting a thin line near the elbow and catching the dribble of blood in the bowl. You do the same to the unconscious Elrick, mix everything again, and pour the mixture into two different glasses. 

The blood-mash-potion is barely a few centimeters from the bottom of the glasses. The Huntsman looks at you skeptically.

"You said a week," you say. "You underestimate how human lifespans can be."

Behind you, leaning on the wall, though nobody else can see him, Death chuckles.

The father lifts the glass up to his unconscious son's lips while the Huntsman, though grimacing, knocks the whole thing back. A flash of cold sneaks up behind you, and the candles in the room flicker. You look up just in time as Death approaches and reaches a claw out.

As both Elrick and the Huntsman drink, a faint, thin line of gold loops around their necks. Your eyes widen, though neither the Huntsman nor his father seem to see the glowing string. Death slowly, carefully, grazes it with the tip of a sharp nail, and the color melts into bright, searing red, before it vanishes from existence.

"I honor this exchange," he declares. The candles in the room die out, and in the next instance, spring back into brightness, strong and steady.

Oh. Oh. That's why he stuck around. Because an exchange of lifespans means someone's trading in death for that missing life.

"There," you say. "It's done."

"And…Elrick's got a week?"

You glance towards Death as discreetly as you can.

"About a week and two days, you flubbed the amount of blood," he says.

"About a week and two days, made sure to give us a bit of wiggle room," you say.

Death lets out a bark of laughter. "Hack."

"I'll get to looking for that spellcaster as soon as I can," you say. "I'll try to get correspondence sent in a few days."

"Thank you," the father says, the most relieved you've seen him. "Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me yet," you say, eyeing Elrick's sleeping form. He looks way better, less starved, but it'll only be for nine days.

You have to work fast.

[igotanidea]

Toxic : Dick grayson x reader pt 2

Just FYI: As I mentioned I changed the readers proffesion (forensic scientist and tech expert) and her alias - to Flux (you'll figure it out), but everything else is the same.

I made a life for myself outsider of Gotham. Leaving the past behind hoping it would never come running after me. Since I was always interested in science and criminology (no surprise given my adoptive father’s side job) I became a forensic scientist and technician for the LAPD. I worked hard to become to best in my profession and the one people relied on. What was funny, despite my rather reserved outside and dislike of any office gossip I was also known as the one who gave the best advice. Maybe it was because of my abilities. Oh, and speaking of that other part of me, I tried to give up on them. Being Ghost just did not work out anymore so I made a choice of being ordinary, no-super-enhanced YN. Funny thing was that despite my quitting they developed. After year one I discovered that apart from being an empath I could also draw people’s energy and use it to form some sort of shields and protections. Shit. Is that what you get when you try to bury the past?

But this, this was fine. I was still able to make it work in line with my normal life. I got back in touch with an old friend, Donna Troy aka Wonder Girl, who used to be my best friend back in the titans day. We worked quite well together, her extravert nature filling well enough for my introversion and vice versa. We met from time to time, keeping our friendship afloat. Once she made a mistake of asking me about what happened in Gotham that made me run away and whether this concerned Dick (after all he was her friend too), but I shoved her off, probably a bit harsher than intended. But I knew she understood my motives.

Life was good for a couple of freaking years. And then all Hell broke loose. By some crazy accident I came to the information that our department will be energized by the new detective. Normally I would let this news pass me by without giving any more thought into it, but when I got the notification of the upcoming employee I could not believe my own eyes. We would like to inform you that starting today we will have another detective on board. Please give warm welcome to detective Dick Grayson. Fuck! What the hell was he doing here? Was it some undercover mission for Batman? Surely he did not know I was working here as well. It’s been such a long time and I thought I was over feelings for him. Ha, ha, ha….. Good joke apparently. Thank god I had my lab on the other side of the floor so, luck help me, we would not be seeing each other too often. Knowing myself and knowing Dick, this could got awkward.

Thoughts and memories started bombarding my head up the point where I forgot about “starting today” part of the message and if it wasn’t for some other detectives who saw me sitting and staring at the wall I would just miss this warm welcome. Not that I would complain if it were to happen. But they were reluctant to all my excuses starting from the pettiest one like “I got a lot of work to do” ending on the most unbelievable one’s like “I got an old injury in my leg back and I can’t move.” Damn detectives. They just dragged me out of the office into the conference room.

“What is this? A kindergarten party?” I muttered crossing my arms and trying to stand in the back

“Oh, come on YN, don’t be grumpy. You are going absolutely wild in this solitary lab of yours. Aren’t you at least a bit curious about the new meat?” detective Todd Carson asked me

“Nope. Not even a little.”

“I’ve heard he is hot, you know. You could use some distraction” Amanda, the secretary winked at me.

“Leave the girl be, guys.” Captain Sarah Anders cut them off, as always when situations get a bit more serious. “we are still at work and you know the  HR policy on the matter of relationship between coworkers.”

“Thank you captain” I sighed “can I just go back to the …..?”

“Absolutely not. Despite everything you need to act nice towards our new colleague. Or at least, appropriately. And that requires meeting him”

“Believe me, I already had the pleasure” I mumbled almost inaudibly

“What were you saying?”

“Nothing. Sorry boss.”

“Good. Here he comes apparently.”

Fuck! He did not change a thing. Maybe brazened a little bit but apart from that he still got those messy, soft hair, smart, glistening eyes and straight posture. His energy was buzzing and it did not take my powers to see and fell that. I could not help the slightest blush that came onto my face.

“Changing your mind already, my dear?”” Amanda smirked at me “he is hot, isn’t he?”

I simply stayed silent since I couldn’t really deny and agreeing was not an option. At this moment I wished I could just turn invisible. Oh, wait….. Everyone was so busy with the introduction, captain Anders included that this might as well work out. I took a step back, towards the door to test the waters. No one noticed, so I took another one and then another and another. And just as I was about to cross the threshold Dick’s super-sensing made him turn head in my direction. It was …. Well, I don’t even know how to describe it. The way light froze in his eyes, but his facial expression did not change. The way his pupils dilated as he saw me, showing so many different emotions ranging from disbelief, though surprise, guilt and pain. It was physically hurting me, feeling all the same as he did. It was mere seconds before we both regained our cool attitude. Years of training made our reflexes and adapting abilities better than most people. He got back to greeting his teammates and I fled back to my safe space, my glass cage, controlling my breath and heartbeat in desperate need of something to focus on.   However, I couldn’t stop wondering what will his next move be.

***

He didn’t come to see me. Obviously, I did not come to see him either. Like I mentioned my lab was on the other side of the floor so most likely he got too invested in whatever case was assigned to him to take any sightseeing tour. Was this a relief? Yes. Really. But for how long?

***

He broke three days later. I was sitting in front of the files and samples with headphones off but I still heard the knocking and instantly knew. Everyone else just busted through the door.

“Come in, detective” I sighed turning around.

“Are you hiding from me?” he cut straight to the chase

“Is that even possible? Given all you can do? All your trained skills?”

“YN….” He sighed and plumped down onto the chair next to me

“Sorry.“ I mumbled looking down “been a while. How you’ve been?” I tried acting cool, keeping all my questions at bay. Are you just passing by? Are you on a mission? Are still with…

“Small talk, YN?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just trying to be warm and welcoming, but might as well go big right ahead. Why are you here?”

“I quit.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I quit being Robin.”

“What happened?”

“I was becoming too much like Bruce. And I never wanted that. So I….”

“run away?” I asked eyeing him carefully

“yes.”

“Seems like we have something in common.”

“You had different motives for that.”

“I guess. But the results turned out to be the same.” I hesitated before speaking again “are you going to stay?”

“I left almost right after you. ” He spoke at the same time and it made us both go silent

“Um…. Do you need any help with your cases?” I swiftly changed the subject but it was already awkward.

“I might, if you are willing to give me a hand. Everyone speaks so highly of you.”

“It’s just the job, Dick. I try to do my best.”

“You always did.”

“Apparently not good enough in some matters.” I just couldn’t stop my bitterness and reminiscence of the past from getting out.

“I’m sorry.” He said after a while

“I know. The past is in the past.” I was terrible liar and he knew that “how can I help you? With work of course?”

 

***

It’s been a couple of weeks during which we worked together a couple of times. It was strange at first but soon this tension between us just went off and we were able to work without any inhibitions. It was clear to see he has changed. Definitely trying his best to not be like Bruce and move past all the aggression and pain he was raised with. So yeah, we were back to being friends or at least working it out this way. That was until a very special and very scared girl showed up at the precinct.

“YLN, there’s a call for you.” My solitary work was interrupted by fellow detective named Anderson

“Is it urgent?” I frowned, not used to being summoned this way.

“Apparently. Otherwise no one would dare interrupting you.”

“Who’s in need?”

“Grayson.”

“I’m not even surprised.” I sighed “I’ll pick it here if you don’t mind” I motioned him towards the door and he was quick to get out “What’s up Grayson?”

“YN, I might need a bit of your help in the interrogation room.”

“Interrogation room? I think you are mistaking my roles in this office, Dick. Unless….” I cleared one’s throat “who’s help are you seeking exactly?”

“I think you already know.”

“No.”

“YN….”

“No, Dick. We’ve talked about this. I gave up that part of me.”

“Did you?” he mocked

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Look YN, I’ve got a kid…..”

“Well then congratulations daddy” I could almost feel his blood boil at this word.

“Stop it! She’s scared. There’s something …. Different about her. I’ve never seen her before and she knew about the circus and the accident and all the history….. YN, I really need your help here.”

“What’s her name” I sighed standing up and getting ready to get to the second floor where the girl was.

“Rachel.”

“I’m on my way. But I don’t like it, Dick. At all.”

 

***

“Rachel?” I walked through the door where black-dressed teenager was sitting

“Are you Dick’s friend?” she looked at me with eyes filled with terror

“That’s the word he used?” I smirked “I guess you can say something like that. He mentioned some…. things about you…..”

“There’s something inside me….” She shook in fear

“Ok. We can work that out” I felt so much pain and struggle coming from inside “I’ll help you. We will help you.”

“How?” she looked me straight in the eyes “I don’t think you can do this.”

I sighed. Rachel was clearly something more than human. More like…. Me. But how do I explain to her the range of my abilities without compromising my work here. Been there, done that. Once you start again it’s like an addiction creeping inside your mind and craving more. Damn you, Grayson! You couldn’t just leave me be.

“Give me your hand, will you?” I put my palm forward but she was hesitant to grab it “don’t worry, you won’t hurt me. I know how to protect myself, ok? You have to trust me on this.”

The girl just nodded and gently touched my hand. None of us expected what happened later. Sudden splurge of invisible energy made us both gasp in pain. It was only a couple of seconds but I felt everything that was inside her coming at me and drowning me in. I immediately put an internal force field to save myself from being consumed but damn it was harder than everything I ever dealt with before. I could also sense she saw something about me.

“What just happened?” her eyes was wide with fear

“What did you see?” I panted breaking the contact “how much?”

“A couple years in the past. You and Dick and how you used your powers…..”

“Please keep it to yourself, will you?”

“Sure. What did you see?”

“I felt. What’s inside you is bigger than we can deal with ourselves. I will help you, Rachel, I promise. Just…. Stay here for a while, ok? I’ll get Dick and we will figure the rest out.”

“Please don’t leave me here” she sobbed

“Rachel, hey, don’t crack. What we are dealing with is not normal, but in case you didn’t notice neither am I. We will work it out.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise” I smirked “that’s still a thing, right?”

“Yes” finally the faintest of smiles showed on her face.

“Good. I thought I was getting out of touch with teenage slang. Wait here, I will put a force field on, all right. No one will hurt you.” I turned towards the door

“YN?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

I just nodded without a word. Now, I had a problem. And by saying I, I meant Dick had a problem as well.  

to be continued

@somest1 @pinksirensong @deadpoolgirl23 @bearly-koalafied @vanessa-boo @shadowmarvelartist

[lucienarcheron]

Tales of the Fox & the Fawn - X

Season I - A series of short snippets to fill my Elucien heart.

Masterlist

Team Ginger

It was early morning. The sun was peeking in, giving the room a nice light and warmth that had Lucien relaxing against his pillows, reading in bed. It was peaceful, calm, and quiet with Elain outside in her garden.

Until she burst back into the room and came bouncing on the bed. She crawled in his lap, immediately straddling him with a wide smile, and moved the book out of the way.

“Hi.” She greeted Lucien, leaning in to kiss him and he smiled amusingly.

“Hi. Something exciting happen?”

“Yes!” She practically squealed. “Guess what I found in the garden?”

Lucien’s brow furrowed and he held back a laugh. “I’m going to go with a wild and unpredictable guess and say, flowers?”

She swatted him gently then bounced again excitedly.

“No! Guess again!”

“With the way you’re bouncing in my lap, bunny, it’s a little difficult to think of anything.”

She rolled her eyes but stopped then grabbed his face and brought it close to hers. “Guess again!”

“Did you find an actual bunny? Because I’m not going to get attached to one and then Cassian will just take it from us again.” Lucien complained and Elain laughed.

“No, but close!”

He pursed his lips and squinted. “Is it another animal?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re using this moment to join in on the fox jokes that everyone else keeps using –”

“No, no not a fox!” she said with a laugh, cutting him off. “I wouldn’t do that!”

“Smart answer.” he replied and flicked her nose. “Then what is it?”

“A kitty!” She said with a squeal. “I found it hiding in one of the bushes! The poor baby is so small and was shivering! And oh, I just had to take her in, Lucien. We have to take her in!”

Elain gave him her best pout, eyes wide in a pleading look and he snorted.

“You already seem to have adopted the kitten. I don’t see why you’re concerned about whether I’d agree or not.” he replied playfully and Elain lowered her gaze, the pout still there.

“I understand if you don’t want the kitty. I’ll just leave it out on the street where it’ll probably starve to death and be unloved and lonely and –”

Lucien put a finger to her lips, silencing her with an exasperated look.

“You don’t have to guilt me. I am more than happy for us to adopt this kitten if you really want to.” he said with a chuckle. Elain squealed in delight, giving him a quick kiss then slipping off him and dragging him off the bed.

“Then come meet her! She’s so cute!”

Lucien stumbled after his overly excited wife as they made their way to the kitchen and his eyes fell on the little furball curled up on the counter. He blinked.

“A ginger cat?”

Elain beamed.

“A ginger cat?”

“I know! It’s fate, isn’t it?” Elain replied with a laugh, scooping up the small kitten and handing her over to Lucien. “What should we name her?”

“If you say Ginger, I’ll start screaming.” Lucien immediately responded and Elain laughed again.

“I was thinking Buttercup. Or Butterscotch. Or oh! Tigger?”

“Let’s call her Nacho.” he replied with a grin and Elain shot him a look.

“No. It has to be a sweet name! Because she’s a sweet little kitty!” Elain cooed, a finger rubbing behind the kitten’s ear. The small kitten purred and then met eyes with Lucien who squinted.

“Carrot?” he offered and chuckled when Elain glared at him.

“No!”

“Okay. Tangerine?” he offered again and Elain swatted him, causing him to laugh and the small kitten to meow. “See? She likes it.”

“Those are not cute names!”

“What about Peaches? Or Mango?”

“Are you hungry, Lucien? Because that’s your only excuse for these names.”

He laughed again then looked down at the kitten who was looking up at him. “What should we name you then?”

“How about Blossom?”

“Oh, flowers are fine but food is where you draw the line?”

“Flowers are always fine.” she said firmly, pointing a finger at him in warning and he sniggered.

“Okay okay…how about Cinnamon?”

Elain pursed her lips then lowered herself to meet eye-to-eye with the kitten. “How about that, Cinnamon? Is that a name you like?”

The small kitten gave a soft meow and extended a paw to Elain and she squealed, taking the paw.

“It’s settled then.” Lucien said with a chuckle, then held Cinnamon up. “Welcome to the Archeron-Vanserra household. Behave yourself and only pee on Cassian when you see him.”

Elain snorted, nudging him lightly. “You really want Cassian to be the first to meet Cinnamon?”

“Actually, I want Cinnamon to stay as far away from him as possible. I will not let him steal this pet too!” Lucien grumbled and Elain giggled.

“Fair enough…we should go shopping later and get some things to settle her in.” she said, her eyes gleaming. “I’m going to get her some milk.”

Lucien nodded and watched as Elain excitedly bounced around the kitchen then held the kitten up to eye level, squinting at her.

“Just so we’re clear,” he began in a soft voice. “There is a hierarchy among the gingers in this household. You’re cute and all but second place is all I’m offering.”

The kitten only meowed in response and Lucien nodded.

“Glad we are in agreement."

[bunnakit]

Hold Me (Like a Knife) Preview

my changun fic finally broke 3k words and i finished what i kinda consider the first act so here's what i've got so far, enjoy (or don't idk your life or preferences)

Chan swallows his nerves and his guilt as he approaches the compound. The guards nod, some even give him a small wave, as he passes through the halls. He keeps up the pretense of propriety; there are expectations for a main family guard and he means to uphold them. He’s still fairly new, only finished his training a year ago, and he tries his best to keep from stepping out of line. There’s just one vice he can’t resist. 

He stops in front of the vibrant green door, shaking his head with a small smile at the gaudy color. His knuckle has barely tapped the wood twice before he hears an answering call. 

“Come in.” 

He shares a look with the guard posted outside who offers the smallest shake of his head in response to Chan’s lifted brow. A bad day then. That's fine, Chan is good at calming Gun’s ire and keeping him distracted. 

He slips into the room quickly, shutting and locking the door behind him with a soft ‘click!’ that draws Gun’s gaze just the way he had hoped. He has that little wrinkle between his brow and his face is set into the scowl he makes when he’s ruminating over something that will inevitably piss him off. Chan takes a few large strides and sits in the armchair across from Gun’s. He doesn’t reach out to touch him, knows it wouldn’t be appreciated, so he sits with one leg crossed over the other and hands folded in his lap patiently. 

“I thought you couldn’t get away.” Gun gestures with his chin towards the pager sitting at the corner of the coffee table. 

“Khun Korn allowed me the rest of the evening off after a successful mission last night,” He explains, watching Gun’s jaw tick before his tongue rolls around in front of his teeth. If he’d had any doubts on what had soured Gun’s mood they were all now laid to rest. 

“How generous of him.” Gun practically spits the words with all the venom in his body and Chan closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to do this again, doesn’t want their little time alone soured by a war of attrition between brothers and blood rights. He knows things aren’t easy for Gun, he’s had to fight tooth and nail for every scrap of success he could eke out from under his brother, and Chan’s guilt grows each time his loyalty teeters perfectly in the center. 

He remembers their conversation a year and a month ago, sat under the dim lights of a noodle shop at three in the morning. 

Chan’s knuckles were bruised, a cut bisected his lips, and there was a distinct imprint of a boot outlined against his dark shirt. He pressed the frosty glass of beer to his cheek which was already swollen and mottled a rainbow of different colors. He glanced up as Gun returned from the pay phone outside, hating the concern he saw in his eyes. 

“Don’t start.” He mumbled, lowering his glass to take a long drink before licking away the foam on his upper lip. Gun made a soft ‘tch’ sound as he sat back down, drinking his own beer and digging into the steaming bowl of noodles that had arrived in his absence. 

“You can’t keep doing this shit, Chan. I think it’s time to consider my offer.” Gun gave him a pointed look before diving into his food. 

Chan lifted his glass to his cheek again, watching the broth of his soup cool and separate. He watched the little globules of fat dance around on the surface before heaving a large sigh that irritated his bruised ribs. 

“Fine.” He knew he sounded defeated but there really wasn’t any other way around it. If he continued fighting his brother’s debtors like this he’d end up dead in an alleyway somewhere. Who would miss him, anyway? He had no one left that would even know he was gone – no one except for Gun. 

“Good. I’ll pick you up in a few days and we can get you settled in at the compound.” Gun had that pleased little upturn to the corner of his lip and suddenly Chan couldn’t remember why he’d been fighting this all so hard. 

But Khun Korn had ruined that as well. Chan had been cornered the very next day and made an offer to join the latest batch of recruits for the main family. He hadn’t been in a position to decline if the gun held by the head of the guards was any indication. Gun had been apoplectic, storming the halls of the tower with teeth bared and accusations loaded. Chan hadn’t been there for it, but he’d heard the rumors and seen the way the other guards looked at him. 

All his free time had then been monopolized by Khun Korn and the rigorous training planned for the new recruits. He’d excelled at firearms training but struggled with escaping his bonds underwater. His only skills were what he had learned in back alley brawls and schoolyard tousles, far removed from the ex-military and gang-born men that had been around him. 

He blinks back into the present, watching as Gun anxiously rubs at his outgrown stubble and tosses a stack of papers onto the table. Chan decides to rise from his chair, feeling Gun’s eyes on him the entire way to the drink cart where he pours them each a few fingers of whiskey – the good stuff. 

“He was pretty upset you managed to solidify that drug deal with the Italians.” It wasn’t leaking information if it was obvious, merely an olive branch. It is worth it when he hands Gun a drink and watches his lips curl into a smile. 

“Come here.” He stops when Gun gently tugs at his wrist and guides him to sit beside him on the sofa. Little moments like this have a way of bringing a flutter to his chest and relaxing all his bones. He misses his best friend in the tower, misses these scarce days when they can shed their roles and settle back into what they were before they became entangled in the dichotomy of the major and minor families. 

They clink their glasses and each takes a sip before settling against the cushions at the back of the couch. Gun’s hand falls to rest on his thigh and Chan hides a smile behind the rim of his glass at the sensation. It’s grounding; draws him back to the now, and pushes away his guilt and his worries. 

He turns his head just in time to feel Gun’s lips press against his, his stubble scraping against the corners and the hand on his thigh tightening its grip until it almost feels like he’s extracting the tendon from his flesh. Kissing Gun is something like pouring gasoline on a house fire; explosive, volatile, untamed. He wishes he wouldn’t get swept away in it each time he feels the flames lick up the walls of his ribcage. He doesn’t think a tidal wave could cool the burning longing in his chest. 

It’s sweet agony when Gun shoves him backward onto the sofa, glass tumbling from his hand and rolling across the floor. He can't remember if it had been empty but he knows he doesn’t care as Gun’s hands spread the flames across his hips, his waist, and his chest; fisting the lapel of his coat and almost tearing it from his shoulders. His arms are caught behind his back, chest forward and shoulders straining as his mind flickers back to hours of training to escape his bonds. He feels Gun’s tongue lick a molten stripe from his collar to his jaw and he can’t help the way his mouth falls open in a ragged groan. 

He knows the guard outside the door can hear them, knows he can probably pick up the sound of his belt hitting the floor, but that’s just something else he can’t bring himself to care about at this moment. His eyes roll back and he arches into every touch on his bare skin, a moth to a flame that he knows will inevitably leave him a pile of ash. 

“Good, you came prepared.” Gun’s voice is low, a deep timber that has Chan moving his shoulders, desperate to reach out and embrace him, but Gun seems disinclined to remove him from his makeshift bonds. He swallows the whimper rising in his throat at the feeling of long fingers crooking inside him, prodding and stroking and teasing until he’s panting open-mouthed and dappled in sweat. 

It wasn’t always like this. They used to take their time to pull each other apart piece by piece. They used to lay in bed together after, teeth clicking as they tried to kiss through their smiles. They’d spent hours upon hours basking in the afterglow and tracing gentle patterns across flushed, sweat-soaked skin. He used to linger in bed, watching Gun dress in the fragile hours of the morning, before stealing a kiss and whispering goodbye. 

Now, he pulls his belt off the floor and threads it through the loops of his trousers. Gun is pouring himself a drink, half a room away at the drink cart, and he knows he’s been all but dismissed. He smoothes out the wrinkles in his jacket and touches the raw skin of his neck. “You left marks.” He tries to keep his voice from sounding accusatory but he can’t tell if they’re bites, bruises, or beard burn. He presses his fingers into the sting just a little harder before dropping his hands back to his sides. 

“You’ll figure something out,” Gun replies and returns to his seat on the couch. He picks up the papers again without a second look at Chan and he swallows down the disappointment. There’s no second glass offered, no invitation to stay, and Chan knows it’s time to leave. He’s fulfilled his purpose today and soaked up any attention he was allotted. 

“I always do,” he mumbles under his breath, turning towards the door and stepping through without a goodbye. His mind digs up a memory of Gun pressing him to the very same door, refusing to let him leave before he’d pressed a kiss to his brow, his cheek, his nose, his jaw, and his lips. He clenches his hands in his pockets as he nods a farewell to the guards at the gate and climbs into his car. 

He makes it two blocks before pulling over, tucking himself away down a residential street and pressing his forehead to the steering wheel. His hands are clenched in a white-knuckled grip and his stomach roils with self-loathing and guilt. He is a traitor in every sense of the word; to Gun, to Khun Korn, and lastly (always lastly) to himself. 

His skin feels like it’s crawling and he tells himself it’s just the sensation of putting himself back together. Each time he grabs the pieces of his humanity from the ashes they fit together less and less; edges worn away and ill-fitting. He should be tempered to the flame by now but as with all things he files it away as a personal failing to ruminate on in the quiet hours of the night. 

After a few more moments he pulls away from the curb, continuing his way to the tower and pulling into the parking lot beneath. He returns the keys to the peg board next to the elevator and steps inside, jamming the button for the dorm rooms a little too hard. He is grateful it's late, too late for many other recruits to be outside their rooms. He doesn't have to deal with the sideways looks and backhanded comments questioning his loyalty. 

Chan counts the doors just like he used to the first few weeks here until he reaches the fourth door on the right. The key in the tumbler sounds overly loud to him, but he knows he’s just on edge. He strips out of his suit on the way to the bathroom and doesn’t pay attention to how hot he turns the dial. It will never be hot enough, anyway, not for what he wants to accomplish. 

The constant spray turns his skin a mottled red but even still he stays leaning against the tiled wall. Chan keeps his eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and arms braced despite the slight tremble throughout his frame. His skin feels dirty, tainted, and he can almost imagine a viscous ichor dripping from every pore. No amount of soap or scrubbing wipes it clean, no matter how hard he tries or how many layers of skin he digs away. The sensation lingers even as the water runs cold and trembling turns into shivering. 

The tap squeaks as he turns it off and dries himself off with stilted, automatic movements. Chan doesn’t bother drying his hair as he walks to his bed and all but falls in, curling himself around his duvet and spare pillows. It didn’t used to feel like this and he doesn’t exactly know where it all began to go wrong, but he knows it’s peeling him apart piece by broken piece. He misses his best friend. He misses the lover that used to touch him gently and beg him to stay. He misses when his heart felt like a functioning organ, bursting with affection, and not a withering plant deprived of sunlight. 

He falls asleep with damp eyelashes and memories of open-mouthed, laughing kisses by the river. He dreams someone is bandaging his hands and kissing his knuckles, asking him to be more careful next time. 

The next time they meet is better; Gun’s eyes are bright and crinkle at the corners in the way Chan loves. They retreat into one of the sitting rooms, away from the pressures of Gun’s office, and settle in close. There are no immediate, demanding kisses or groping hands. They sit beside each other, sip their drinks and talk about their days (as much as they can.) Chan feels that familiar bubble of warmth in his chest and feels like he draws in a full breath for the first time in months. Maybe things aren’t irreparable, maybe they just needed time to settle into their new roles with one another. 

They kiss, slow and languid in a way that says they still love each other and it slowly heals the cracks at the walls of Chan’s heart. Gun touches him so gently, so reverently, that he feels like he’s picking up the cracked porcelain pieces and slotting them together as if they’d never been broken in the first place. He shudders at the sensation of calloused palms sliding up and under his shirt, spanning across his ribs and shoulders and coaxing him into his lap. He swallows the words he wants to say and stifles the ‘I missed you’ he knows would only dampen the mood. 

They take their time undressing each other like they have all the time in the world, and they each pepper kisses over every expanse of skin they uncover. Chan feels like molten metal when Gun finally ushers him to the bedroom and pours him against the sheets. He can’t remember the last time they’d taken enough time to make it here and he inhales deeply the scent of frankincense and jasmine. 

He knows he’ll have stubble burn between his thighs but he can’t bring himself to care as his back arches tight like a bowstring. There’s that telltale pull in his stomach - a little trepidation and a little anticipation - and before long he’s exhaling all his passion and arousal in a low, drawn and breathy moan. Gun’s touch borders on too much, his skin humming with oversensitivity, but Gun knows exactly how long he can bear it before he draws his way back up and captures his lips in another slow kiss. 

It takes a few moments before he feels the synapses in his brain connect again and he’s running his hands down Gun’s chest, his lips are traveling across his jaw, and his teeth are gently scraping against the shell of his ear. He takes a moment to spit into the palm of one hand; it’s inelegant and crass but it will do. He’s never been a selfish lover a day in his adult life and he’s not about to start now, not with how weightless and right he feels again. He strokes and twists his wrist the way he knows Gun likes, his thumb swiping and pressing in just the right spot. It doesn’t take long, a few gentle bites against his ear, a few more strokes with added pressure each time, and he feels the familiar bite of nails against his upper arms and warmth wash across his fingers and palm. 

Chan wipes his hand on the sheets, knowing Gun will have someone change them later, and lays back against the pillows in liquid contentment. He can’t help the small smile that stretches the corner of his lips as he’s pulled over, head cradled against a strong shoulder and a stubbled chin resting against his hair. The words threaten to bubble up again, ‘I missed you,’ but he swallows and forces them down with the bob of his throat. 

“We can’t linger long, I have a meeting soon.” Gun breaks the carefully crafted silence, but his hand is still stroking gently up and down Chan’s arm so he can’t bring himself to mind. Besides, he likes the way his voice rumbles beneath his ear. 

“They’re expecting me back for some additional training later, anyway,” Chan replies and turns his head to press a feather-light kiss just above a dusky nipple. The sun is peeking through the shutters and casting scattered rays of light on their tangled bodies. He feels warm in a way he hasn’t in so long and he’s perfectly content to spend the few moments they have left silent and absorbing the attention he’s craved for months. 

Chan sighs when their time comes to an end, as it always does, and he reluctantly extracts himself from Gun’s embrace to begin pulling on his shirt and redoing each button with a methodical patience he wouldn’t have previously had before joining the Family. Gun is an obstacle the entire way, pressing gentle kisses to his shoulders until Chan has to shrug him off, hands spreading across his thighs until he has to tug up his trousers. Getting dressed becomes something of a battle between them and by the end of it, Chan is laughing and pressing a quick kiss to Gun’s waiting lips. 

He waits until Gun is dressed in his preferred florals and saturated colors that never cease to make him question everything about his lover’s fashion taste, but he supposes he isn’t much better in his grayscale wardrobe or the faded band shirts he'd once favored. Gun walks him to the door with a final kiss and a promise to reach out to him later. Chan lingers for a moment, stealing one more kiss, then two, before he seems to have withdrawn his limit and Gun is pushing him out the door. 

Chan catches himself just before he runs into a figure taking long strides down the hall, but he can’t help the way his brow creases and his head tilts at the sight of them. He’s never seen her before, a petite woman with a figure that must be sculpted with the best of self-restraint and work. She peers up at him with large brown eyes and he feels it like a punch to his gut, the way her look is almost knowing, and he can’t help but wonder if she’s judging him. 

Unconsciously, he smooths his palms down his suit and offers her a nod before taking a step away. 

“There you are, dear.” He turns at Gun’s word, feeling his chest and his stomach bloom with affection and love. That warmth quickly turns to frigid tendrils of disbelief as he watches Gun place a hand on her waist and draw her close to press a kiss to her cheek. Once again, he feels it like a punch to his center and he nearly doubles over with it, only rigorous training and determination keeping him upright. 

Gun spares him a parting glance and a raised brow over her shoulder and Chan can only duck his head and hurry his way down the hall, a hot wash of mortification turning the back of his neck and his ears an unmistakable shade of scarlet. He hopes he’s imagining the looks of pity some of the guards are giving him, but he’s sure at least a few of them are real. He wonders if they tell stories about him, the foolish street thug turned bodyguard reaching far beyond his station. He should have known better.

tagging my beloved cheering squad @porschesbabydaddy @haahka @bottomvegas

[riversofmars]

The penultimate chapter...

Chapter 24: Climax

Eventually, in every story, there comes a boiling point. The moment everything has been working towards. The plot lines come together, the protagonist’s goal, the resolution to their quest, is within arm’s reach but not without a final push. One last, seemingly insurmountable obstacles in their way. More often than not, it will take everything the protagonist has to overcome adversity and likely demand a great sacrifice. I, for my part, wasn’t sure I would be willing to make the sacrifice asked of me.

“We mustn’t waste any time,” River attempted to evade my question, she didn’t look at me, but I refused to back down. With the physical discomfort having dispersed once we’d broken out of the bubble, I managed to pull myself up, scrambling to my feet so I could make my demands clearer.

“River, answer me!” I exclaimed.

“Liv, really-” She was focused on flying. Through the windscreen I could see the Dalek control ship looming and wondered if they had seen us too. Surely if they had-

“They can’t flip the switch now,” the Doctor stated as if he had read my mind. 

“What?” I frowned, confused. 

“They can’t. We’re out of the bubble,” he explained at the sight of my dumbfounded expression. “The time loop is unstable now. It’s a little bit like the TARDIS. It can’t take off while something that’s meant to be inside is outside and the doors aren’t closed, remember?”

”With you so far-” I nodded though my eyes remained on the Dalek ship. Slowly, its shutters were opening and Daleks started spilling out. Regardless of whether or not they could reset the time loop, we were about to be in big trouble. 

“We are elements that belong inside the loop, while we’re out there, they can’t simply reset without ruining the whole process,” the Doctor carried on. “They either have to return us or-”

“Kill us,” River interjected grimly and up ahead, the Daleks started shooting towards us. 

“Right.” I felt the rush of adrenalin kick in. 

“Would you be willing to take over now?” River urged and I nodded, putting aside my questions and fears for the time being. There were more pressing life and death concerns. 

“Fine.” I grabbed hold of the joke and River relinquished the pilot's seat without further ado.

I forced my mind into singular focus. It was a reprieve, in a way, not to have to think about the effects of everything and simply fly.

“We need to get aboard that ship,” the Doctor mumbled, hovering right behind me.

“Can’t we just use your Vortex Manipulator now that we’re outside the bubble?” I shot a quick look to River who remained at my other side. 

“With the temporal interference? Not a chance. Besides, I doubt it would carry all three of us,” she shook her head but went to the trouble of checking it through regardless. 

“I don’t think these weapons will do much.” The sheer amount of Daleks that were barring our way made shooting our way through almost impossible.

“No, but they won’t need to. We have luck on our side. Just fly, Liv,” River instructed, producing the Quantum Crystallizer from inside her coat. 

And so I did. I don’t know how much of it you can attribute to my flying skills and how much of it was sheer dumb luck, but I dove and spun, the ship was incredibly responsive and I made a note to congratulate Osgood if I ever got to see her again. Thankfully, the nausea and discomfort from the temporal fallout had significantly lessened but it wasn't gone entirely. It was still there at the back of my mind, as were the nagging questions of how all this would end if we succeeded.

“There is a gap!” The Doctor shouted suddenly and I could see it, just to our right. There was a way through if we were fast enough.

“We need to be quicker!” I ground my teeth together. The Daleks had spotted my change of course, drawing together and forward. 

“I’m rerouting everything we’ve got to the engines!” The Doctor announced and even as his sonic buzzed, I felt a surge forward and could barely react fast enough. Suddenly, there were Daleks right in front of us. I dove underneath but only just. The Control Ship was fast approaching now. I had to find a place to land.

“One of the hangers!” River pointed out the opening from which the Daleks had emerged and I nodded feverishly. 

We drew closer and spun through blaster fire that only grazed us. It was remarkable. I had never flown as well as that, but I suppose when you have luck on your side, your skills become less important.

The Daleks must have read our intent as the shutters started descending.

“Any more power going?” I asked and the Doctor was already at it.

“Hopefully we won’t need life support much longer…”

There was a violent jolt, too forceful to properly control, but our trajectory was right anyway. I scraped a Dalek or maybe three. The skimmer shuddered as part of the hull was ripped away. 

“Through the shutters!” River yelled and I barely managed to pull up the nose of the glider into the narrowing gap. 

We made it by the skin of our teeth. The glider skid across the hanger floor, ripping apart the underside of the small craft, and thankfully came to a halt before knocking into the wall. All the systems gave out with sparks shooting off and fizzling out. We would have to find alternative means of transport for the way home, the glider wasn’t going anywhere else ever again, but it didn’t matter. We had made it!

“Nice flying,” River complimented into the silence that was only interrupted by the sizzling of the ship’s electronics. 

“Yeah that… wasn’t the first time,” I released a shaky breath, reminded far too keenly of my escape from the Space Service vessel many years ago. Only this time I wasn’t running away from something, I was heading towards it.

“Let’s get out of here before we get visitors,” the Doctor instructed and I didn’t argue, keen to get away from the controls that I feared might blow up in my face at any moment. 

We forced our way out of the glider. The craft was a complete write-off and the doors had warped in the crash. It took a combined effort of all three of us to push it open.

“Right, which way?” I asked once we were free of the wreck. I looked around the space we had crashed in. It likely was one of many launch bays and currently - mercifully - empty. Surely it wouldn’t be for long. The Daleks were bound to be on their way back here, and those aboard were likely already responding to our break in.

“We need to get to a computer, any computer, to set off a self-destruct of the ship,” the Doctor explained, heading towards the one door that leads out of the bay and onto a corridor.

“Let’s see if we can find a shuttle for the return journey first, shall we?” I suggested, slightly unnerved by the realisation that Daleks rarely used shuttles as they could fly in space themselves. When neither of them answered it gave me pause. I knew that sort of silence. “We are going to get out of here, right?”

“Not much point when-” The Doctor started but was interrupted by the familiar, unwelcome screeching noise that we would all do without. “Oh no-”

“Damn it, that was quicker than expected,” River groaned, inching backwards.

“INTRUDERS!” The Daleks chanted. “YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!”

“RUN!” The Doctor yelled and I didn’t need asking twice. There was only one way to go in the corridor cut off by our enemies and we rushed in the opposite direction.

“This way! The bulkhead!” River pointed out a heavy door to the right at the end of the corridor.

“Doctor!” I looked around to find him falling behind.

Keep going, I will buy you some time!” He called back, ducking an energy blast. And I reached the door, nearly knocking into River who was struggling with the locking mechanism. 

“YOU ARE THE DOCTOR. YOU ARE AN ENEMY OF THE DALEKS!” The Daleks screeched, advancing on him.

“Doctor! Come along!” I yelled as the heavy bulkhead door opened. I yelped when an energy blast hit the wall right beside me. I looked around to see the Doctor having pulled out his screwdriver, shooting sonic waves at the advancing Daleks, momentarily disabling their weapons. It couldn’t last long.

“Liv, through here!” River grabbed my hand and the Doctor looked around. Our eyes met and he gave me a smile. 

“GO! You can do this! I believe in you!” He called, giving another blast with his sonic but that time, the Daleks had adjusted their weapons to his frequency. They fired and struck him right in the chest. 

“NO!” I screamed and didn’t even recognise my own voice. It seemed to come from very far away as my field of vision shrunk and all I could see was the Doctor, crashing to the floor, lifeless.

“LIV, COME!” River ripped at my arm as the Daleks advanced towards us. 

“But the Doctor, we can’t leave him! He will regenerate!” I yelled, fighting her and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me along. She was stronger than me. 

“No, he won’t,” she told me but I wasn’t really listening.

“DOCTOR!” He wasn’t moving. No hue of gold, no whirl of energy. His features lay slack and pale. And then, another energy blast hit him, and another, as the Daleks seemed to want to be sure he was indeed dead. And he was. I could feel it in my soul. The Doctor, my friend through so many years and adventures, the person who had shown me all the wonders of the universe and brought me to the love of my life had been killed. And the universe became a much darker place.

River dragged me through the bulkhead and slammed the deadlock before any of the Daleks could follow. The heavy door fell and there was silence.

“No! No no no, this can’t be happening!” I sobbed and River released me. 

A tremor ran through the ship.

“What was that?” I exclaimed, alarmed. 

“The effects of the the deterioration of the time-line just kicked up a gear,” River answered as if it was an obvious explanation and reeling with grief, I yelled at her:

“WHAT?!”

“Another paradox, a big one. The Doctor is dead. But he doesn’t die here. He is down there too! The paradox is beginning to rip things apart,” River answered and was unnervingly calm about it. 

“Did you know this would happen?!” I yelled, bracing myself against a computer console. The ship was shaking. 

“That the Doctor dies? No. But this is what we were planning on doing. This is how we defeat the Daleks,” she answered with an apologetic smile. “The only way this was ever going to work is by erasing everything that has happened. Paradox upon paradox upon…” Her eyes returned to the bulkhead and the pain of her loss furrowed into her features though only for a moment. She pulled herself together and carried on defiantly: “If he dies here, he can’t possibly be down there. This will work. Everything will be undone, the time-line will reset to before I intervened. The Doctor will live and-”

“And I’m going to lose everything!” I snapped . “All this time, everything that Helen and I went through to finally work things out. It’ll be reset!” The prospect was terrifying.

“I told you. Whatever happens, you two find each other. Every time,” River countered sympathetically but I just shook my head.

“Every time the Daleks intervene,” I shot back. “If there is nothing to force us together, if it’s just boring day-to-day life, we wouldn’t-” All things considered, it had been our trip to the future that had kicked things into gear. Only because I had seen a future in which Helen and I had been together - regardless of the painful outcome - had I attempted to kiss her. It had been the snowball that had started the avalanche of what had happened and developed between us.

“You don’t know that,” River tried to calm me. She stepped closer, reached for my hands and I hung my head. I already knew there was no way around it and my vision blurred with tears. Her words were kind and considerate as she carried on: “I’m asking you to take this chance. Make this sacrifice if needed to put things right. Restore the planet. Defeat the Daleks.”

How was I to refuse that? How could I? How could anyone? For the sake of so many lives. So that good might prevail. For justice… 

And what would be the alternative if I refused anyway? How could I even hold on to what Helen and I had? Reality was shaking apart around us and if that didn’t happen, one or both of us would be killed by the Daleks without a doubt. Perhaps if I used the Crystallizer, I would grab a shuttle, rescue Helen, and be on my way but- Even if that were possible, neither one of us would be able to live with the guilt. And of course: the Doctor. The reset would bring him back to life. There was no decision to be made. It was simply a matter of accepting the facts of what would happen: Our one and only option.

I nodded mutely without looking at River.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more straightforward with you but this… this is the only way,” River carried on gently. I suppose she wanted me to understand rather than just agree. “In a way, this was always the plan. My intervention giving you the notebook started the whole thing. Then I broke into the time loop which shouldn’t have been possible… it was a slow process at first but the arrival of your past selves now, that’s what’s done it. And now the Doctor’s death…”

Another tremor ran through the ship and it felt as though the very space around us was beginning to strain. The air became charged with energy.

“While not planned, it’s certainly helping…” I mumbled, and River nodded.

“And Helen’s survival is too…” 

“What?” My eyes shot up to her at the mention of Helen’s name. 

“Another huge difference to last time… she died too,” River revealed with a sad smile. “Right now she’s still alive and well with the Doctor and your other selves, is she not? At least for now.”

“What do you mean she died that time?” I asked, unsettled.

“After you died… remember what we were saying about it also having been the closest the Daleks got to winning? The reason the Daleks had to reset the time line was because grief-stricken Helen killed herself in a suicidal stunt that brought the Daleks down…” She explained softly.

“I see…” I didn’t need more details than that. The thought alone turned my stomach and my tears started to fall. It wasn’t fair. None of it. 

“All these things, these paradoxes, they’re what’s going to make this time-line collapse in on itself. There’s just one thing left to do-” River looked around and I took her meaning. 

“Destroy this place, yes…”

“If the source of the time loop is gone, that’s another contradiction when all the paradoxes are a result of it-” She carried on explaining but I had heard enough. I didn’t want to discuss it any longer.

“Yes, I get it, you don’t have to explain anymore… besides, the sooner I blow this place sky high, the less chance there is for those Daleks down there to kill Helen. I’m not letting her die again.” Even if things would be reset, I wouldn’t let her come to harm, be injured or die. Even if she wouldn’t remember it, it would have happened. It had happened far too often already. 

As mad as I was with River for keeping her cards close to her chest, I understood why and that there was no other option.

“But you… you have to go,” I told her, when I realised there was one thing still within my control.

“I’m not letting you do this alone,” River almost laughed and she let go of my hands. The time for sentimentality was over. We had agreed what had to happen, it was time to get on with it. She turned to the computer terminal. 

“At least I have a chance of coming back. You were outside of the time loop. You would stay dead!” I observed something that should have been obvious to her. 

“I’m quite prepared for that. I knew what I was getting into. And I know what I’m asking from you so-” She started working the controls and I could tell what she was doing. I had rigged up a self destruct on a ship myself before, more or less… 

“But River, I can do that, why would you-” I interjected but she wouldn’t let me finish.

“I haven’t got anything left. I told you. My time with the Doctor is over,” she shot back, her fingers flying across the controls.

“I’m not willing to accept that,” I grabbed her arm, tried to pull her away from the computer but she shook me off.

“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” she countered.

“It’s not up to you,” I argued. “You’ve been telling me there is no way of knowing what will happen in the future or that some people are meant to be together. Well, if that’s true, apply the same logic to yourself!” One thing I can’t stand is defeatism. There is always hope. You just have to believe it. Despite everything, I was not giving up. I was choosing to believe that Helen and I would still have a chance, even if our current relationship was wiped away, we would rebuild. I had to hold on to hope, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the strength to follow through with what had to be done.

“The Doctor and I have had our time,” River’s voice broke and so did her façade. This close to the end, there was no point in pretending. Her eyes filled with tears but she continued working regardless.

“There will be more time. You’re both time travellers,” I tried to reason with her and this time, I managed to get her attention.

“Truth is, Liv, I don’t know how this will affect me!” She burst out, frustrated. “Did I ever come to see you that New Years Eve?”

I blinked as I tried to recall and a sinking, nauseous feeling spread through my gut when I realised I couldn’t remember.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, delivering proof that the time-line was indeed unravelling but I decided not to let it deter me. “I don’t care. You are not just giving up! If there is a chance you have to try and leave. Don’t choose death!”

“Liv, it’s a billion in one chance that-” She rolled her eyes at me. “With this temporal interference, my manipulator will never work! At least, if I stay, I can do something useful and neither of us will be alone.”

“You have the crystallizer, it’s in your pocket!” I exclaimed when I realised the solution was that simple. Regardless of how poor the odds were that she could make it out of here. She would be fine!

“What?” Her face fell and I couldn’t allow her time to contemplate what would come next.

“Thank you, River, without you, I never would have had this time with Helen,” I smiled, then lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. 

“Liv, NO!” She shouted, trying to fight me off but it was too late. I slammed the launch button on her Vortex Manipulator and released her just in time. There was a snap of energy and she was gone. I don’t know where she went, what sort of destination had been set, but I knew she would be okay. She had the Quantum Crystallizer and even if my own chances at a positive outcome were significantly diminished, I knew I didn’t need luck at this point. Soon, everything would end. I could only hope River’s reasoning behind the reset was sound.

“Liv, yes…” I mumbled to myself. “Because there is a chance you will remember what happened…” And that, to me, was the most important thing. If River survived, at least someone would have borne witness to what had happened in this aborted time-line. 

I took a deep breath. I could hear the Daleks screeching on the other side of the bulkhead but they couldn’t get through, not in a hurry. Their own constructions were far too steadfast against their own weapons.

“Now, let’s see what…” I looked around the place that shook with another wave of temporal radiation. It was a sort of maintenance or engineering area. Perhaps it was the Dalek equivalent of a medical bay as there were parts of travel machine shells and even neurosurgical equipment around. I considered the irony of it all. Of all the places I could have ended up… And then, a thought struck. Perhaps one last favour the Quantum Crystallizer had offered without me even realising it initially. 

Rigging the self destruct was easy so I finished the job River had started and then, I picked up a neural relay device. The Daleks were no closer to breaking through and the temporal side-effects were manageable still. I could set off the self-destruct manually in the end. For now, I would allow myself a little more time, hopefully enough to record my story. 

And I will tell you now, at the end: Ceasing to exist is not as painless as I imagined it to be. It’s as if time is slowing down and my memories are being pulled away. Little by little. Suddenly, I can’t remember what Tania and I talked about when I last saw her. I can’t remember the sort of plane I flew to Africa. And I can’t remember my first kiss with Helen. It’s all becoming abstract. I know that it happened but not how. The details are blurring as time is spiralling, small fractures and big breaks, and time and possibilities spilling through the gaps. Alternates and doubles, back and forth, variant upon variant, all existing simultaneously. I am both alive and dead and my heart aches as I can’t remember if Helen told me she loved me or if it was just a dream. 

I think I ought to set a countdown now, as I can’t be sure how much longer I will be able to remember what I have to do. It’s time. I have told you all I needed to say. 

I was reminded of the Orpheus journey and the way things played out once we came to 900 years after we set off from the Frontier Colonies.

The Doctor had been there at the edge of everything and it had seemed like such a cruel twist of fate at the time. In many ways he had been the reason why I had fled Nixyce VII and was responsible for the hardships I had encountered along the way. To meet him again after everything that had happened, running away from my past and trying to forget, had been a slap in the face. 

And yet, I had learned to trust him through it all. In a strange way, even though the Doctor I met on the Orpheus hadn’t experienced the events of Nixyce VII yet, it felt like coming full circle. 

I couldn’t run away from my past. That was what I came to realise. It was a part of me, regardless of how I felt about it. It had to make peace with it and I tried to. I tried when at the end of our fight against the Eminence - the mysterious gaseous being we encountered at the edge of the universe - the only option appeared to be for me to sacrifice myself so it might be stopped. 

I was dying anyway, so it seemed oddly fitting and I found the decision far easier to make than I would have anticipated. I had nothing left to live for, all my loose ends had been tied up, and I had something to die for: the safety of the human race… 

Perhaps, right about now, you can sense a pattern…

Back then, as I was sitting in the small escape pod, starting a countdown to blow it up, I tried to make peace with myself and my past. It felt like a fitting end: to repent for my failings on Nixyce VII by sacrificing myself then… And I accepted it as I didn’t think I had anything to gain by holding on to my life.

I didn’t die. The Doctor found another way and saved me. And if I’m being quite honest now, I didn’t see the point at the time. I was still terminally ill and was faced with having to work out if I could truly trust the Doctor in spite of the things I blamed him for… 

Things changed. I was cured of the Theta ray poisoning and followed the Doctor, aiding him in his quest to fight the Daleks and the Eminence and somehow become worthy of my new lease of life. I made a friend in Molly O’Sullivan who was travelling with the Doctor when we met, and I bore witness to her own sacrifice for the greater good, wondering why I had been spared and she’d had to die.

It wasn’t until later that I started hoping and planning for the future again. I found joy again and something to live for in the most unlikely of places: Earth, 1963, at the National Museum, where a beautiful language scholar caught us snooping in her office… 

How ironic that she is what I am to give up now.

Among the confusion and my swilling memories of events long passed, I remember one thing very clearly, words the Doctor told me a long, long time around. They feel so important now that I consider all the things I’m losing.

“It’s not a numbers game, Liv. It can’t be a numbers game.”

But it was. Seven billion people on planet Earth. What is one love story, one happy life to that of seven billion? Maybe, now, I will never again know the joy of being in Helen’s arms. Maybe, I will never find out what it’s like to kiss her. Maybe, I will never hear her tell me that she loves me... 

But it doesn’t matter. Not now. We’ll be lucky if we all make it through the reset. The devastation of the planet will be undone. The Doctor will live. And we will be back at 107 Bakerstreet, looking for a way to fix the TARDIS. It’s not ideal, but it is right. 

I hope you understand that I had to tell someone. Even if it will never have been real. You listened. You know and I hope, understand, what I’m giving up. I don’t know if River will survive. I hope so. I don’t know if I will survive. This version of me won’t but another might… And I don’t know if anyone will ever find this and listen to it but if you do: thank you. 

I’m going to chuck this out of the airlock now and if it drifts forever like the Orpheus, so be it. Perhaps after nine hundred years, someone will find it and listen to our story. It’ll likely be too late for us then. I doubt you’d find us and be able to tell Helen and me what we’ve missed out on. But you knowing will have to be enough. 

The countdown is almost zero… 

My name is Liv Chenka, I'm a med-tech from Kaldor from the 30th Century and I hope you understand why I made all the choices I did. I hope, in the end, I did the right thing. Thank you for listening to my story. A love story that never was.

[renee-writer]

Out of Time Chapter Seventy-four

AO3

The honeymoon period ends with wee Alex. Mary’s cry rouses all. Jamie, sleeping in a room beside them, gets there first. Jenny and the children aren’t far behind.

 

“What?”

 

“Jamie! He is hot, feverish.” He takes the lad while his sister and the children stand mute outside the door.

 

“What is wrong?” he coos, even as he, unbundles him and goes to take his temperature. He finds Mary is right. He is feverish. Now to find out why.

 

“Jamie?” his sister, Maggie in her arms and the lads around her, looks at him.

 

“38.8°” He reports. Not to high for someone Maggie ‘s age but for Alex, it is scary.

 

“I will get these guys resettled and come help.” He nods, thinking. Blood, urine, does he want to try and reduce the fever? They are helpful, up to a point. Has that line been crossed yet?”

 

“Mary, is he nursing?” He prepares to draw blood.

 

“Off and on. It was what first concerned me. He would nurse for a bit, fuss, nurse some more.”

 

Ears and throat, he thinks. The lad takes the blood draw without complaint. Jamie wishes he would fuss. His quiet acquiescence concerns him more then the fever.

 

Jenny returns. “What can I do?”

 

“We are going to give him a full exam. I will check his ears, throat, chest, and wame, after I start testing his blood. Will need to catch him for urine and may need to tap him.”

 

“What him?”

 

Jamie stops and reminds himself that she is an excellent help but not a nurse. “Spinal tap, but only if I fail to find anything else.” He assures both women, who both grew pale at the idea.

 

He caths him first. His urine will tell him a lot, including if he is dehydrated from the off and on feeding. He listens to his chest and back, checks his ears and throat.

 

“Are you going to give him paracetamol?” Jenny asks.

 

“Debating. Fever, as you know, jump starts the immune system.”

 

“Aye, and makes little ones miserable.”

 

“A bit of redness in his ears. It could be Otis media, a simple ear infection but, I also hear a deep congestion in his chest.”

 

“How did he get so sick, so fast?” Mary holds her baby, stripped down to just a nappy, against her chest.

 

“With little ones, it happens that way sometimes. Their bodies aren’t as able to fight off the germs.”

 

“I thought nursing…”

 

“Breast milk is best, no doubt, especially with his prematurity.”

 

“What do we do?”

 

With an older baby, or even one at term, he would wait. The risk of antibiotic resistant being so high but…”I will treat him with broad spectrum antibiotics. Unless his fever gets higher or interferes with his ability to feed, I am leaving it untreated. It boast his immune response. He has a slight UTI and is a bit dehydrated so I am also starting an IV and giving saline .”

 

She nods, rocking him. “He will be alright?”

 

“He will be a bit miserable for awhile but, he should be just fine.”

[evermoresversion]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS, CONRAD FISHER.

PAIRING Conrad Fisher x Fem!Reader

TW/TAGS Angsty, cheating.

SUMMARY Although Conrad has been in love with you all his life, he had to make a decision that put you in a compromising situation that you accepted even if it was not entirely what you wanted.

SONG Illicit affairs by Taylor Swift.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN | CONRAD'S MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Conrad had always wanted to make his mother happy. That had always been his purpose ever since he found out her cancer had returned. And even before that.

And he knew how close she and Belly were, so to please them both he began a relationship with Laurel's youngest daughter.

Conrad liked Belly, of course he did, but he didn't love her, at least not like you.

He had always liked you, he had always been in love with you.

Everything he heard, saw, or did reminded of you. He was out of his mind in love with you, he couldn't help it. You were the most beautiful girl, both inside and out, that he knew.

At first you didn't know what he had with Belly, so you reciprocated the insinuations he sent you or the moments when his hand touched yours or passed one of your locks of hair behind your ear, you couldn't help but feel the famous butterflies.

The first time you kissed was one night where he had gone outside your house in the middle of the night, since he hadn't been able to see you all day. You talked for a while and at the end of the night he kissed you. And you swore that it had been the best kiss of your life.

The kisses began to be more constant in your casual encounters. And his displays of affection little by little intensified, to the point that you thought you both would soon formalize everything.

Until you found out about his relationship with Belly. To say that he broke your heart was an understatement.

"y/n, let me explain." he said in the middle of the night, anxious and worried about what would happen to what you two had.

You denied biting the inside of your cheek. You didn't even know why you agreed to see him.

"No, I… I need some time, Conrad." you answered looking into his eyes, his brow was sunken with concern but he nodded understanding.

"Okay, that's fine."

"Well." You nodded walking away from him to return inside your house.

A week was what you stopped talking to him completely. You considered it well and in the end your decision was that you would rather have him as an illicit affair than not have it at all. So you talked to him to tell him you'd stick with what you had.

"Believe me, I want everything with you but we can't do more than this right now." he murmured caressing your cheeks, keeping you close.

"I know." he had explained the matter of his mother to you and you understood it perfectly, just for that reason you settled for only having an illicit affair with him.

One day you were with a group of friends that you and Conrad had in common, you were all watching a movie at one of the girls' house when a message lit up your phone screen.

"I'm going to the mall, see you in the parking lot?" said the message Conrad had sent you.

What had started in beautiful rooms ended in meetings in the parking lots of any place at night.

You got up from the couch, drawing the attention of most of your friends. You made a line with your lips, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break out at the thought of seeing Conrad.

"I forgot I haven't done my night run." you excused yourself walking towards the door of the house.

"Oh, okay, are you coming over later?" asked one of the boys and you just nodded leaving the house on the way to see you with the boy you loved, that you could only love in secret.

Even though you knew it was dangerous, you took the road less traveled while telling yourself that you could always stop.

But you couldn't, even if you had to see him secretly with the danger that someone would recognize one of the two and Belly would find out about you two.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs, clandestine encounters, and longing stares.

That kind of thing can be born from a single glance but it dies and dies a million little times.

There was a time when you were in Conrad's room, arranging the perfume on a shelf that you had given him and chosen just for him.

He said that he had bought it, to leave no trace behind, as if you didn't even exist.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs, clandestine meetings and stolen stares.

In his he shows the truth when he looks at you, but then he lies and lies when he looks at Belly, pretending to love her.

And then one day you got tired of it, of being just a secret, of being an illicit affair for him.

You were both in your room while he was sitting on your bed and you were pacing here and there in front of him, your gaze lost on the floor and biting your thumbnail out of anxiety.

"Baby..."

He started to talk and you squeezed your eyes shut from the nickname, you wanted to scream at him not to call you that, and out of the overwhelming emotions you did.

"Don't call me baby!" Little by little your breathing became more agitated by the annoyance and sadness that you were beginning to feel, or perhaps you had already felt for a long time. "Look at the godforsaken mess you've made of me."

He knew what you meant, he knew that at some point you would get tired, but he didn't think it would be so soon.

"Just listen to me, I—"

"No, you've shown me colors that you know I can't see with anyone else." Tears began to gather at the corners of your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by your emotions. You hated when people saw you cry but you couldn't help it. "Look at this idiotic fool that you've made me."

The sadness in Conrad's eyes was more than visible, he hated that because of the happiness of the woman who gave him life, he is losing his happiness and dragging the person he loved with him along the way.

"You taught me a secret language that I can't speak with anyone else." You shook your head and watched as he stood up, cupping your cheeks in his hands, and he dragged his thumbs under your eyes to wipe away your tears. "You know damn well for you I would ruin myself a million little times." You finished in a low voice looking at him, as if it were a secret between the two of you and he put his forehead against yours, being able to feel the pain that you felt, because it was the same as he.

"I'll fix this, I promise."

disclaimer ── evermoresversion © 2023.

[dontstareatgorgons]

NTA

in many places in the US (not sure if you are in the us, pub suggests UK so idk if this law applies there, but its worth thinking about) if a dog draws blood on a child, or has a certain number of incidents, the state and/or a court can MANDATE that the dog is put down. You were completely correct- if that muzzle fails, THEY MAY HAVE NO CHOICE. They need to realize that not only are they gambling the safety of strangers, but they are gambling the safety of their own dog. A reactive dog needs to be trained carefully and specifically to successfully no longer be dangerous. Dumping them in public with little warning is NOT THAT. There are ways to safely start taking blue into public- this is not one of them. Blue sounds like he needs a more intensive evaluation and specialized care in order to be safe outside of groups of people who are experienced with dogs like that. Eventually, with enough work he may be ready for casual outings. Emphasis on enough work. Yes, you hate the dog. Tbh I would too in that situation, even though its honestly not the dogs full fault (dogs don't have the same grief empathy processes people do). That's fine; he's not yours, its not your responsibility to love him. If he was your dog id say you need to get over it, because the dog doesn't deserve hate from its primary caretaker, but you aren't the one who cares for the dog. As long as you don't actually attack the dog/rile up the dog/sabotage the dogs behavior, which given your concern for the populace sounds unlikely, its fine to dislike and even hate the dog. Even then, you still spoke up for him, pointing out that if he truly harms someone, it may be his own life that pays for that. Despite hating this dog, you still seemed to be the only person actually concerned about one of the most pressing threats to its safety.

not to mention, it sounds like Alice either isn't improving and/or may be getting worse. Her welfare is an additional concern.

Your relatives needed a wake up call, because at this point its not just their feelings on the line. Its the life of both of their dogs. If Alice picks up this behavior, she too could end up in this situation. It also sounds like she cant recover with Blue in the house. Sure, it was harsh. similar statements in different circumstances would be YTA behavior. But not when animal welfare is involved. Your aunt and uncle are endangering beings that had no choice in this. Tl;dr:

Your aunt and uncle are setting this dog up to fail. If nothing changes the law may force your aunt and uncle to have him put down. Despite hating the dog you are the one person pointing out the very real threat this dog is under if nothing changes. It seems like you are looking out for this dogs actual long-term welfare better than your aunt and uncle are.

side-note: Its ok to simply want the problems caused by the dog to cease. Thats a completely normal desire. If, by some miracle this dog does get the help it deserves and is able to recover, I recommend trying to forgive it for what happened. But if that day never comes, feel no guilt. Because even in the depths of hate you never did more than tell the cold truth, and never in a way that truly harmed this dog. Refusing to mention the real risk of mandatory consequences as a result of a dog bite doesnt make them go away.

Are my parents and I the assholes for insinuating that my aunt and uncle's dog should be put down?

I (21F) hate one of my aunt and uncle's current dogs. They rescue old racing dogs and have done for like 15 years now. Their first two dogs I loved. First one was a bitch in both senses of the word, but she was funny and well behaved when it was important. Second one was a true gentle giant and a lovely boy. The second pair they've adopted though are a nightmare.

Alice, the current bitch they have, has suffered some form of trauma in her past. There are three years missing from her medical history and she's got some scars, so we'll never know exactly what happened but something did. She's a very nervous dog. She can be a sweetie, and they were making progress with her until they got the new one. Alice, however, does what more dominant dogs around her do, which has become a problem.

Enter Blue. Blue is genuinely dangerous. Blue snaps with no previous warning and tries to kill things. My family all know about dogs, this isn't us misreading his body language, he is giving no warning then going for the throat. He's taken a particular dislike to mum (who is usually a bit of a dog whisperer) and has got her in the hand a few times. Blue also tries to kill any dog who doesn't share his breed. We were in a restaurant, sitting outside, Blue saw a Beagle and before any of us could do anything he'd pulled my uncle backwards off of his chair and dragged him towards this poor dog. My uncle is a big man, 6" and not thin, so you can imagine the strength it took for Blue to drag him like a doll (the Beagle and owner got away DW).

I've disliked Blue for a while, but what made me actually hate him was that, when my aunt and uncle came to see us just after our own elderly dog had passed, Blue walked into our sitting room and pissed on the carpet. He's house trained and has never done this before. I think he was doing it territorially because he could smell that our dog was dead. I've never wanted to kick an animal before, but I did then and had to excuse myself before I caused a scene.

Cut to yesterday. We were in the pub having a family meal. Blue is muzzled now in public after the last restaurant incident. There was a family sitting across the room from us with a very little girl, 3 or 4 years old I'd say. She was looking at Alice and trying to get her attention from across the room. As her mum got up to take her to the toilet, the girl pointed at our table and asked to see the dogs. Her mum asked us if it was okay. My aunt agreed. The little girl came over. Alice immediately hid under the table.

My aunt was like "ooh sorry, she's shy, why don't you say hello to Blue".

Blues head pops up. The mum sees he's wearing a muzzle and tries to pull her daughter away from him but the kid was too quick and went to pat him on the head. He was super chill with it, pressed into her palm like he wanted harder pets, then with no warning growl, no tensed up body language, nothing, just lunges for the kid.

Obviously she's terrified. The mum is terrified and pulls her away. My uncle grabs hold of Blue's leash and my aunt is ineffectually going "oh no blue bad boy" over and over. My parents jumped up to help the mum and the little girl. I grabbed Alice so she couldn't start copying Blue. We all got kicked out of the pub.

We were standing on the street outside when my parents and I started laying into my aunt about how irresponsible that was. She is like "he'll never become accustomed to humans if he's locked away". Dad shouted that he doesn't get to maul someone to learn that lesson. She scoffed and said he had the muzzle. I said it takes one piece of brittle plastic before he gets put down. My aunt told us all to fuck off and stormed off in the opposite direction. My uncle took Alice from me and followed her.

My aunt made a passive aggressive series of Facebook posts about how all dogs deserve care, and how everyone lashes out when exposed to trauma, then blocked mum (only Facebook user in our house).

I don't think we're the assholes, but I know I'm very biased, because I genuinely hate that dog and would be quite happy to hear it had moved on, whether that be to a different home or the afterlife, I'm not picky.

So awta?

What are these acronyms?

[civilgroupie-gvf]

The Boy in The Band

Chapter 8: Breaking News 

Josh Kiszka X Reader 

Summary: Josh flies you out to Hollywood for the band’s appearance on Jimmy Kimmel Live! You get some test results back from your doctor that change you and Josh’s relationship forever. Fluff the house down. I’m living my fan girl fantasy.

“Baby?” 

Josh’s voice sounded muffled outside the bathroom door as you stared into the porcelain toilet. 

Before you had a chance to respond, you were sick again causing a magnificent splash into the toilet water. Josh busted through the door. 

“I’m ok. Maybe the sushi last night was bad.” You looked up at him through teary eyes. 

He handed you tissues, and paced in concern. You’d been feeling nauseous all morning, and you looked pale. 

“Josh, it’s ok. People throw up sometimes.” 

“I just don’t want to leave you like this.” 

Josh was packed and ready to get back on the road. By now, you both learned how to navigate a long distance relationship. Saying goodbye wasn’t necessarily easier, but it was a routine. 

“I’ll be ok. Promise.” You smiled and walked to the sink to brush your teeth. 

You walked Josh out to his Uber, carrying one of his duffels and his jingling tambourine.  

Before getting in the car, Josh turned to you. He looked just as concerned as he did inside the house. 

“Stop...” You pleaded. “I’m fine!” 

“Ok.” He said, kissing you on the forehead and then on your lips. 

It hadn’t even been 15 minutes since Josh left, when your phone started to buzz in your back pocket. It was your mom. 

“Hi mom.” You said.

“What’s wrong? What’s this about you throwing up? Do you have the flu?” She demanded. 

“HI MOM!” You emphasized. 

“Hi.” She said shortly. 

“So a little curly haired bird told you huh?” you asked.

“Yes and he requested I take you to the doctor if you don’t get better.” 

“Oh my g-” 

“Y/N you need to take care of yourself.” 

“Ok. I’ll let you know how I feel in the morning.” You rolled your eyes, but found it kind of endearing that Josh called your mom. You sent him a text: 

“Well played.”

The following morning you woke up feeling worse. You went to the doctor as requested. 

~~~

Later that week you found yourself walking aimlessly around the mall with Ronnie who had become one of your closest friends. You talked about life, and Ronnie talked about the dating scene and how men weren’t interesting in this town. You held a big yellow tub full of cinnamon pretzel bites and popped one into your mouth before saying with a full mouth, 

“Maybe you need to explore other places.” 

“Like where?”

“Like when you move for college.” You said smiling. 

“I don’t know if I can leave home...” She trailed off. She resembled Jake so much you had been stopped twice by Greta Van Fleet fans. One of them was crying, and did not hide her disappointment when she realized Ronnie was in fact, not Jake. 

You found yourselves in line for a smoothie when Ronnie pulled out her phone as it rang with a FaceTime call. It was Jake himself. 

“Hi twin!” Ronnie said cheerily. Jake just laughed his raspy laugh. 

“What’s up?” She asked. 

“Hey I just wanted to tell you we’re going to be on Jimmy Kimmel on Tuesday.” 

“What?!” She beamed at you. Ronnie pointed the camera at your shocked face. 

“Hi Y/N!” Jake said as he waved. “I’m glad you’re here! Josh was gonna tell you later today.” 

You and Ronnie tried to be cool but were overtaken by the fangirls in you. 

“This is a big fucking deal!” Ronnie whisper-shouted at her phone screen.

“Yeah...I suppose it is.” Jake laughed “That’s why we want to fly you all out here.” 

That only made the two of you more giddy and beside yourselves. You toned it down, however, so as to not draw too much attention. 

“You’re going to Hollywood!” Jake said in a British accent, imitating Simon Cowell.

~~~

Your frozen finger tips tapped on your phone, looking for your doctor’s contact, as soon as you sat down in the plane next to Ronnie. The air conditioner was stuck on high and you already knew this was going to be a long flight. The unexpected trip to LA conflicted with your follow up doctor visit, but you wanted to get an update.  You put your phone to your ear and held it up with your shoulder. You grasped at opposite sides of your thin hoodie, wrapping yourself tighter as if that would somehow make you warmer. 

“Dr. Cordova’s office, how can I help you?” The cheerful receptionist chimed. 

“Hi, my name’s Y/N. I’m calling to get some test results.” 

After giving the receptionist all your information she paused before speaking into the phone in response, “Is there any way you can come into the office this week? Dr. Cordova would really prefer to speak with you in person.” 

Your mouth started getting dry and you began to wonder what terminal illness you contracted, and how long you had left to live. 

“I’m going out of town and I really don’t want this hanging over my head the whole time.” You said taking a deep breath. “Can’t he come to the phone now?” You pleaded. 

“Unfortunately he’s booked until the end of the day, sweety. He’s usually able to send the results via email in situations like these.” She offered. 

“Okay. That would be great.” You said before thanking her and hanging up. 

You stared at your phone, waiting for it to glow up with a new email notification. You were so focused, Ronnie had to snap in your face to get your attention.

“Sorry”, You laughed, “My doctor’s sending me some test results to my email. It’s freaking me out.” 

Ronnie simply rubbed your shoulder and nodded at you that she understood. 

You knew it was just a matter of time before the flight attendants asked you all to put your phones on airplane mode. You really didn’t want to spend the entire flight wondering what the heck was in those results. You were convinced if it wasn’t anything bad, she would have just told you over the phone. Just as the intercom interrupted the chatter with a request to put your phone on airplane mode, a loud ding came out of your phone, making you jump. It was a text from Josh.

“I can’t wait to see you. Have a safe flight. I love you.” 

You responded and put your phone on airplane mode. You really wanted to let Josh know everything went well with the doctor visit and there was nothing to worry about. You weren’t too sure that was going to be the case. You started feeling sick to your stomach again. As the plane took off, you put your sunglasses and your hood on, tightening the string around your face, before adjusting yourself for sleep.

Turbulence woke you up as the plane began to descend. You yawned and rubbed your eyes. 

“We’re about to land.” Ronnie said without taking her eye mask off. She looked kind of funny leaning back into her neck pillow. 

The wheels had barely touched gravel when you had your phone out and ready to check your email. They finally gave the signal, and you turned the airplane mode off. 

You sat patiently waiting for your phone to turn all the way on, giving it time to catch up on notifications. Multiple Instagram messaged from Beverly, and a text from Josh. No email. You felt your heart sink until suddenly a Gmail icon popped up at you. You never clicked on something so fast. Everyone around you began to stand up, gathering their belongings, and making a line going nowhere since the door was still closed. Ronnie took notice that you were about to open the results. She wrapped her arm around your arm and smiled at you reassuringly. You couldn’t help it. Your heart rate was up and your breathing became shallow. 

“According to the blood and urine sample you provided at your last visit, you are 5-6 weeks pregnant.” 

You read it over a few times but the words made no sense. You put your phone down and looked at Ronnie wide-eyed. 

“Can I look?” Ronnie asked. She looked very concerned. 

You watched as Ronnie read the email. To your surprise her eyes became misty. She put your phone down and put a hand over her mouth. 

“Congratulations!” She suddenly let out. She wiped away a couple of tears and hugged you so tight, you thought you were going to faint. You felt frozen. The shock still coursing through your veins.

~~~

“What if he’s disappointed? I’m just so scared...” Your voice trailed off into silence. 

“Scared of what?” Ronnie asked. 

You had managed not to talk about it on the Uber ride to the hotel. You made chatty conversation with the driver about his main job as an APP designer, and his wiener dog Chancho. As soon as you arrived at the room, however, Ronnie had given you a stern but loving look that said, “Enough stalling.” 

“Scared of what? I’m scared of everything! A baby now? Greta finally has momentum. I don’t know if I’m ready for that type of commitment. What if our parents are disappointed in us? I’m scared this will break us, or worse, I’m scared he’ll see how much I want this that he’ll sacrifice his true desires and settle to a life he never planned just to make me happy.” 

Ronnie’s eyes laid gently on you. She was just listening. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” You slumped your body into the hotel chair, and cupped your face with your hands. You kept the sobs inside but you could feel the tears welling up in your hands before they seeped through your fingers. Tiny drops made dark blue circles on your jeans. Ronnie rushed over to you and held you for a few minutes before saying, 

“Josh has never been someone that cares what our parents think. He’s always carved his own path. Don’t count him out just yet.” Ronnie squeezed you as you sniffled. You let yourself melt into a puddle of feelings in the safety of your friend’s arms. 

~~~

After a much needed nap, you and Ronnie showered and got ready to meet up with the rest of the family. You spent a lot of the time putting ice to your eyes to reduce the puffiness. Josh could always tell when you’d been crying and you didn’t want to distract from the band’s big moment. 

You and Ronnie sipped silently on some coffee as you sat on the comfortable hotel lobby couches. You both looked up at the sound of a familiar cackle. It was Karen who was accompanied by Danny’s mom, Lori.

“Hey!” Ronnie said greeting her mom, and Lori. You got up and hugged them both. 

“Ready to rock and roll?!” Lori said enthusiastically. 

“Ready Freddie!” You said, following them out to the car. 

~~~

The green room was packed with Greta’s team, their friends and family, and other random people you’d never seen before. The whole room was electric with excitement. As the four of you walked in, Jimmy Kimmel was on his way out. You all looked at each other in disbelief, Karen silently mouthed “Oh my god!” You all finally made it to the corner where the boys were hanging out. Sam was sitting on a chair with his eyes closed as a make-up artist patted powder onto his T-zone. His mouth kept moving as he still tried to be heard over everyone else’s voices. Jake was sitting on a velvet couch with his girlfriend, Jita, sitting on his lap. You could tell he was teasing her about something by the smile on her face. Danny’s back was to group as he poured what looked like 20 shots of tequila. You couldn’t see or hear Josh. Your stomach flipped as you realized you couldn’t say anything until after the performance. You had no idea how Josh would react to the news, but you knew you didn’t want to ruin this moment for him. 

“Hey you!” You heard him say. You felt at ease again. You turned to face Josh who was dressed in a mauve-pink silk jumpsuit with silver gem stones around the neck line. You could tell he had just trimmed his facial hair. 

“Look at you!” Josh exclaimed as he examined your look. 

“Look at you!” You said back. 

“You’re glowing.” You said before he gave you a warm kiss on the lips. 

You spent some time with Josh as he introduced you to the people around him. You were so happy to see him again but at the same felt like you were lying to him. After a few “nice-to-meet-you-toos’ you excused yourself to get something to drink. You walked over to the catering table and found Ronnie and Jita talking by the refreshment table.

“Oh there you are!” Jita greeted you warmly. She always gave the best hugs.

The three of you caught up and bonded over how surreal it was to be in Hollywood in a studio lot. In the midst of the banter and laughter Danny walked up to you somehow balancing 3 shot glasses in his two enormous hands.

You each grabbed one and thanked him before he went back for everyone else’s shot.

You awkwardly put the overflowing shot glass onto the table and instead reached for your water.

“Are you pregnant or something?” Jita asked you with a twinkle in her eye. Woman’s intuition.

You and Ronnie stared at her incredulously.

“Someone say something!” Jita said in a loud whisper.

Danny made a toast, and everyone gulped down their tequila. Everyone but you of course. 

You managed to catch Jita up before the TV producers rushed in and rushed you all out into the audience.

Before the performance began, Jita leaned in to congratulate you. There was genuine excitement on her face. She had known the Kiszkas a lot longer than you, so it made you feel better about what Josh’s reaction would be. The boys preformed their single. It was the song Josh had confided in you was inspired by an idea of a baby listening to the world from inside the womb. You spent the whole time thinking about how, no matter what, everything between you was about to change forever. 

~~~

~~~

As expected, the boys rocked the house down. After the show, Karen and Lori said goodbye to everyone. They had to take the red eye back to Michigan to help with some sort of charity walk.

The boys had planned to go out for drinks in celebration, but you managed to pull Josh away for a moment.

“Is everything ok?” Josh could read you like a book.

“What did the doctor tell you?” 

“Can we talk about it in private?” 

Your heart was thumping out of your chest. 

Josh agreed and let the boys know you would catch up with them later. Josh wanted to change into his civilian uniform anyway so you both headed to the hotel.

You were happy to see Charlotte again, who gave you both a ride in the SUV rental. You were relieved that you had more time to think about how you were going to break the news to Josh. 

Once inside the hotel room, Josh sat you down on the bed and he knelt down in front of you, holding your hands. 

“Ok what is it?” You could feel Josh’s pleading eyes but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at them. You stared down at his hands trying to find the words without choking up. 

“Y/N no matter what it is, it’s going to be ok. We’re going to get through it together.” He assured you, and you tried to believed him. 

“I’m pregnant.” You said finally. You didn’t see any reason to continue beating around the bush. The silence was deafening, and you mustered the courage to look at Josh if only to get a clue as to what he was thinking. 

Josh’s eyes and nose became pink, and his eyes became tearful the more he blinked. He was still holding onto your hands. He didn’t look upset, or scared. It was a mix of shock and genuine emotion. 

“Are you sure?” Josh asked looking straight into your eyes. 

“I’m 100% sure. The doctor did blood and urine tests.” You responded. 

“This is the happiest day of my life!” Josh shouted suddenly. He bear hugged you, lifting you from the bed and kissing your face over and over. 

“I didn’t know how you would react.” You said laughing as you felt relief wash over you as well as his wet lips. 

“Y/N, I love you. I know you must be scared but we can do this. I thought you had a terminal illness! Turns out we’re having a baby!” Josh choked back tears on the last sentence. You embraced each other, allowing the tears to flow for several minutes. Finally, Josh pulled away and wiped tears from your face. 

“Does anyone else know?” Josh asked still sniffling.

You explained how you got the results while you were with Ronnie, and told him that Jita pieced it together with what seemed like psychic abilities. 

“I haven’t even told Beverly.” You said surprised at the sudden realization. “She’s gonna be pissed I didn’t call her right away.” You considered calling her then but decided against it. You just wanted to enjoy the moment. Just you and Josh. 

"How about we celebrate with room service?” Josh offered. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out with everyone?” You asked. 

“Nah. I’m good right here. With my little family.” He said rubbing your stomach. “We’re now eating for 3!” Josh said and he flashed his white teeth and tooth gap at you. 

You both changed into pristine white bath robes, and feasted on a freshly made breakfast as well as little pastries topped with fresh fruit and interesting shapes made out of white chocolate. 

You were both stuffed, and cuddling each other in bed, watching The Martian on HBO. Josh turned to look at you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked. 

“Never been better.” You said. You meant it, too.

[djarrex]

Pretty please can we have something where Echo and TBB find out Rex and reader are expecting? Bonus points for Omega's reaction cause I wonder sometimes whether she knows much about the natural way babies are made? I figure she wouldn't have need of that information in the Kaminoans' eyes.

I wanna preface this by expressing the joy I feel and the appreciation I have when you guys come into my inbox asking or wanting to talk about Post-Order 66 Rex and fam. I love it SO MUCH you have no idea :’)

So, if you remember, Hunter was briefly in Insatiable and has a couple lines of dialogue - he even congratulates them on the pregnancy and wishes them well in case he doesn’t see them soon - which is shown during Rex + reader + Hunter’s short interaction. The squad is told the happy news before the events of that particular installment, and I’m thinking that it happens when Rex contacts them to ask if they would be able meet him on [planet] for a little help with [mission].

Find the rest of the series and related works in the Post-Order 66 Rex ML

Let’s go back in time when Rex makes contact with TBB, which preludes the events of Insatiable: (pregnant!reader, TBB + Omega finds out, about 1.6k words)

<<<>>>

"We’re being hailed.” 

All members on board the Marauder drop what they’re doing and turn their attention to Echo, who had just called out and is signaling for everyone to congregate in the cockpit. Hunter sheathes the knife he’d been twirling in his fingers and nods before stepping towards the rear of the ship and calling for Omega, while Wrecker sets down Gonky and waves her over. Tech and Echo are already sat in the cockpit, getting the signal steady for the incoming transmission to come through.

"What is it?" Omega jumps down from the gunner's nest - now her room thanks to Wrecker's kind heart and creativity - and joins her brothers in the cockpit. The pilot seats are swiveled around and facing the small space in the center of all of them - the bust of a familiar captain popping into view. "Oh, it's Rex! Hi Rex!" She waves at his translucent blue form with a giddy smile plastered on her face. “Where is-”

"Hello Omega," you chime in with a smile as your head pops into the perimeter of the holo. Her sweet face lights up even more, and her eyes move back and forth between you both, unsure of whom to focus on. From the room you’re still staying at in a high-rise located in Yerbana City, the two of you exchange quick greetings with the five who are currently traveling through hyperspace.

“What’s goin’ on, Rex?” The gentle giant asks with a grin and hands placed on his hips. The captain straightens his stance and crosses his armored arms across his chest plate, and instead of directing his impending response to Wrecker, Rex’s attention turns to Hunter, who’s leaned against the frame at the threshold of the cockpit. A moment passes as the two share a nonverbal understanding before Rex opens his mouth - the focusing pairs of eyes on one another.

“I wanted to see if your squad would be available to help me out.” You quietly observe each individual who are all appearing on your end as full-body projections, landing on Omega to where she’s sitting on top of their Gonk droid - her hands folded neatly in her lap, legs swinging.

“Name it.” Echo is quick to respond with a affirmative nod as he meets the eyes of each member - cutting off Hunter before the sergeant can get a word in. Rex’s oldest friend found himself caught at the receiving end of a very slight glare coming from directly across from him, and begins to backtrack. “I-”

“What is it, Captain?” Hunter interjects.

You sort of tune out the rest, having already been given the spiel by Rex long before you’d suggested for him to contact Hunter for some much-needed assistance. It’s a simple mission: scouting out an abandoned base in hopes to obtain supposedly valuable information from the obsolete Republic database and perhaps to also restock on munitions if there’s anything left there. Normally this would be something Rex could manage on his own, though his thoughts have been a little busy since the start of your extended stay in Yerbana. The two of you ended up taking a little much-needed ‘vacation’ in the repopulating capitol city after receiving the incredible news, and you’re just now getting back into the swing of things. Well, for the most part. Rex doesn’t quite trust his focus as of late with far too many other important things swarming around in his mind, and is worried that he'd make a mistake doing the mission solo, no matter how simple the objective appears to be.

Hunter accepts without resistance, and confirms that they'll meet the two of you just outside the abandoned base immediately after they’ve finished their current objective for Cid, which will probably be in another eighteen hours or so. Rex transmits the coordinates, and it falls silent; the awkward clearing of the throat coming from Rex crackles through the air on their end.

“Somethin’ else, Rex?”

“Actually, yeah. We have some news.” Rex grins and rubs at his nape, and you can't help but to smile wide at him from your position at his side. The squad members all share a glance - a mixture of raised, inquisitive brows and narrowed, concerned eyes. Hunter steps closer to the projection, caution engrained within the features of his half-inked face as he crosses his arms.

“Tell them, love,” your sweet voice of reassurance crackles with the brief wavering signal - your hand laying to rest on his pauldron. Rex chuckles down at his feet and grabs your hand to bring it up to his chest, squeezing gently as he begins to acknowledge the others.

“Everything okay, you two?”

“Based on their lifted expressions and display of affection towards one another, it appears that this ‘news’ is of a positive, exuberant nature.”

You can’t help but laugh at Tech being Tech, which results in mixed reactions at the other end of the call. Rex inhales deep - the air quietly seeping through his nostrils on the exhale. “We’re, uh- we’re gonna have a baby.” His lit up eyes drop to his boots and he’s smirking at his feet as soon as the words leave his lips. You watch as the multiple pair of eyes widen with smiles creeping their way onto each member of the squad’s faces, but the first person to audibly respond is Tech - his focus not lifting from the device held in his hands.

“Are you certain?” All heads snap in Tech’s direction to where he’s leaned forward in the pilot’s seat, elbows resting on his thighs, continuing to tap away at the datapad. Smacking his bother’s knee, Echo squints at Tech and shakes his head.

“Yes, Tech,” you giggle as your hand releases from Rex’s and moves to rest against the beginnings of your baby bump, though you’re unsure if they are able to see either one of you from the chest down. “The bun has been confirmed as baking in the oven. We risked a brief visit to the local med center here, so, we’re certain.”

“Well then.” Tech’s brows lift above the rim of his goggles as he readjusts the spectacles with a finger pushing between them. “Felicitations to you both. That is quite extraordinary news. It seems that I was correct in-”

“That’s so wonderful!” Omega exclaims with the largest grin - hopping off the GNK and clapping her hands excitedly as she approaches you. “When are you getting the baby? Are we going to see the baby when we meet them at the rendezvous, Hunter?”

“Of course you're going to see the baby, Omega,” you answer softly for Hunter, giving him a quick smile and nod, saving him from having to explain. “It won’t be for quite a few months, though. Not until after the baby is born.” Omega’s brows pinch together in confusion, and you cautiously elaborate, unsure of what she already knows as far as what the natural-born process entails. “The baby has to grow inside of me first, and that takes a little while.”

"Inside of you?" Her curiosity is absolutely adorable. She turns to her brothers - soft eyes flickering to each one of them.

"You see, Omega, when-"

"Uh, Tech?" Rex clears his throat, and the intelligent trooper is quick to get the hint - closing his mouth and resuming to silently tap at the datapad. Echo is next to chime in, and he’s smiling like a fool, eyes wide.

“You’re gonna be a dad, eh? Wow... that’s- that’s just incredible, brother.”

“I’m gonna be an uncle!” Wrecker very loudly exclaims, and Omega and you share giggles at his enthusiasm.

“Technically, Wrecker, we are all going to be ‘uncles’ since Rex is our brother, genetically speaking. Therefore, any offspring he may produce would be considered as our nieces and nephews. That is how the nat-borns conduct their family trees.” Tech punctuates his statement with a sure nod - speaking with his finger raised in the air so as to draw attention to his point.

You’re so lost in the way Rex’s eyes continue to positively sparkle with pride and adoration as his brothers and Omega shower the two of you with congratulatory praises that you’re forgetting to respond to all of them.

“We appreciate it, everyone,” you say with an ear-to-ear grin - beaming at Rex. 

“We’ll see you all soon,” Rex concludes, “Stay safe out there.” 

The holo vanishes as the transmission disconnects, leaving the squad on board the Marauder to go over some more details of their next objective as well as to process the news.

“So...” Wrecker turns around and leads Gonky back to where he was benching the power droid before the call. “What do ya think Rex is gonna do?”

Hunter raises the brow bordered with dark ink. “What do you mean?”

“Are they going to keep this up, now that they’re going to have a kid? You know, the missions and stuff?”

“We have Omega,” Tech inputs matter-of-factly as he prepares the ship for exit from hyperspace. “And we are managing just fine, barring our dwindling ration supply.” Omega smiles sheepishly, but nods with confidence.

“Rex is a good man.” Echo swivels his seat around and sits up straight, meeting the four pair of eyes now gazing back at him. “Always tried to do what was best for his men, his brothers, and still does, even if it's beyond his control or out of his hands. Now that Rex is... free,” Echo puts the most stress into that word as it’s spoken - glancing down at his feet and chewing the inside of his cheek before continuing, “He’s in control of his life, and is able to choose his own path. And that path will lead to what’s best for his family.”

<<<>>> 

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