#i always welcome the doctor who dreams though. they are fun

[rainylana]

“Why the hell would you say something like that?”

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: instead of the shitty ending we got, he’s gonna live in this fic. you’re welcome<3

warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, crying, trauma, major angst and fluff, language.

a/n: writing is something that is so fun and spectacular. you can create and imagine anything you please. so for me, eddie lives on! and I’m going to continue to dream and write about him! you were a hero eddie, it was your year. thank you for making my life brighter. we love you big boy❤️

“Just promise- promise me y-you won’t lose your- yourself, okay? You have to- live. You have to live, y/n.”

“Shut up! Stop talking like that! You’re going to be fine, Eddie!”

Dustin squeezed your right hand, the slow beeping of Eddie’s bedside vitals being the only thing heard. The room was crowded, everyone slumped in seats, Steve and Robin crouched on the floor. Everyone had tears going down their faces, but you couldn’t shed any.

“We have to get him to a hospital! Dustin- Dustin help me! Steve! Where’s Steve we need him!”

Living in Hawkins was not easy, it never was. You always bounced back, though, whatever the menace that decided to curse the town that season. But this, vecna, everything. It was different this time, and not just for you. Your eyes were glued to the floor, your lips parted as you breathed. There was a feeling in your body that you didn’t understand, a heaviness in your heart.

You were completely traumatized. You’d never seen so much blood, his wounds ripped open from violet claw and teeth marks. His beautiful, shiny white teeth had been stained red. You couldn’t get his face out of your head, smiling up at you from your lap.

“I love you so- so much. You- you’re so beautiful.”

“Dustin, help me carry him! Come on, Eddie, you’re gonna be okay! Shh, it’s alright.”

Violent coughs had smacked you in the face, his mouth spewing blood that made you sob. It had all happened so fast, as cliche as it sounded. You kept replaying every moment in your head, thinking maybe, if you pinched yourself hard enough, you’d wake up from the dream you were having.

He had screamed in pain as you and dustin dragged him to the doorway to your world, and you cried and cried, apologizing profusely. But, you had been running on adrenaline, both you and Dustin, and it made carrying him easier.

No one had spoke for nearly an hour, and despite the glum faces, there was reason to celebrate. Eleven had defeated Vecna. Joyce and Hopper were back. Hopper was alive. Max was hurt with several injuries, but she would be okay. Her and Lucas would be okay. You glanced over to Mike and Eleven, where she rested her head on his shoulder. God, everyone had gotten so much older.

And despite all this happiness, Hawkins’s victory, Eleven’s victory, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“I’m not g-going to make it, y/n. put m-me down, you can’t carry me. dustin make her-”

“No, I’m not leaving you here, dammit! I won’t! We’re almost there, Ed’s, just hang on, honey.”

You had physically exhausted yourself with your strength, Dustin too. You gulped, your eyes going up to his bed. He looked so pale, so cold. His hair was wet and matted with his blood. The nurse had cleaned him some, but it didn’t help much. He was going to be fine, the doctor said, and it was all because you had gotten him to the hospital just in time. He was near bled out when you had arrived. But you wouldn’t believe it until you seen his opened his, his pink lips curling into a smile.

And it wasn’t like you were trying to take away the spotlight from everyone, but they hadn’t seen it, besides Dustin, who still clung tightly to your hand. They didn’t hear his screams, how terrified he looked despite his smile. Their hearts didn’t break, yours did. Eddie was still alive, yes. Your best friend, your lover, and it was the greatest gift god had ever given you, but your heart was shattered by agonizing trauma.

“You hungry?” Dustin’s voice dragged you away from your thoughts, and you blinked tiredly as you turned your head to look at him.

The poor kid was exhausted, and you seen the look on his face that yours held. No one else’s had it, just you two. You shook your head. Eating was the last thing you wanted. “No.” You whispered.

“Me neither.” He sighed, looking at his friends. “You think Eddie will need anything from the trailer?” He spoke to everyone, gaining their attention. “I mean, he’s going to be here for a while.”

“I could go,” Nancy spoke up, her bushy hair wild and bright with crimson colors. “What should I bring, y/n?”

The attention was on you then, and you pushed out a squeaky breath. “I, uh-” You looked over at Eddie, your sweet, sweet boy. You blinked tiredly, a lump building in your throat.

Dustin’s eyes bore into yours, and he patted your knee, letting go. “I’ll go with you, Nance. I know what he’ll want.”

It wasn’t till a half hour later, did Eddie make his sign of life. The room was dead quiet, and you heard it, that little whine that was undeniably his. Everyone’s eyes snapped up to him, and you sat up, your breath in your throat.

“Eddie?” Mike shot up, going to his side. “Eddie, can you hear us? It’s me, Mike!”

You stopped breathing, your fingers squeezing the arm wrests as everyone watched with anticipation. Another groan, a twitch of his arm, and then- “Wheeler?”

Everyone cheered at the sound of his cracked, hoarse voice, going to his side. You watched as his eyes peeled open, those beautiful brown eyes that you loved so much. You seen how quickly life replenished in his face, the color already coming back to him, and Steve helped him in a comfortable sitting position.

But you couldn’t get up and run to him. You couldn’t cheer along like they did. You felt like fainting, truthfully. Your face contorted into tears, your body hunching over as your hands covered your face, your elbows resting on your knees. The relief you felt was too overwhelming for you to do anything else, so you just sat there and cried.

“Where is she? My girl?” Eddie beamed, looking up at everyone’s faces. “Y/n, is she here-" He was interrupted by a sob, your sob, and everyone quickly followed the sound. He cocked his head to see around everyone, and then, he saw you. You were in the corner of the room, your hands covering your face, and you were unapologetically sobbing to yourself.

His bright eyes creased at your figure, and he awkwardly tried to set up, biting his lip as a sharp pain went through his stomach. Robin was the first to read the room, and she softly patted Steve’s shoulder, and the quietly ushered everyone out of the room.

“Y/n?” He smiled softly, his voice full of love. He wanted to see your face so badly. You kept crying though, steadily in your hands as you listened to his voice.

“You gonna look at me, sweetheart?”

You sniffled loudly, your hands shaking as you peeled them away from your face. His eyes softened even more at you. You looked at the ground for a few more seconds, and then you batted your eyes up to him. Your heart soared at his beautiful face.

“Hey, you,” He said playfully, tilting his head. He wasn’t clueless to realize you were crying tears of joy, even though there was much more to it.

You could only look at him, your chest heaving as tears fell down your face. You felt on the verge of a panic attack.

“You know,” He raised his brows. “If you really wanted me gone, you could of pulled the plug.” He chuckled, teasing as he nodded to the electrical wires around him.

You choked on a sob, turning to face the window as you shook your head. “Why the hell would you say something like that?”

His smile dropped at the sound of your voice. It wasn’t just tears of joy, you sounded legitimately upset. Your voice was about as hoarse and cracked as his was, and he noticed the tear tracks that fell down your neck. “Sorry, I shouldn’t of said that.” He licked his lips, frowning when you didn’t look any better. “Hey- hey, honey, come here.” He rushed smoothly, wincing as he sat up.

You obeyed blindly, sniffling and whimpering as you shuffled to his bed. You stilled right beside him, and he looked up at you. “You can touch me, you know,” He said slowly, acting as if you were a baby deer. “I won’t disappear, kiddo,” He chuckled, reaching out to brush his hand against your arm.

The touch was enough to melt you. You nearly fell atop of him, your face burying itself in his chest, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, knees smacking against the floor.

“Whoa, hey,” He wrapped his arms around you. “It’s okay, I’m here, baby.” His muscles aches and spasmed at the weight of you, but he held you tightly anyways. You cried into his chest, your hands fisting his shirt. You reached up and grasped his face, sobbing as your eyes locked into his.

“God,” You cried, resting your face against his. “Oh, god, Eddie.”

“I’m alright, y/n,” He grabbed your chin. “Calm down, take a breath. I’m fine.” It was alarming how much you were crying, how upset you were.

His other hand softly petted the back of your head, his thumbs circling your cheek. “I’m alright.” He pressed a soft kiss against your lips, drinking in your whimpers.

“I’m guessing you missed me then?” He chuckled, closing his eyes.

“I want us to leave, Eddie.” You sniffled, grabbing his face, whimpering at his features. He was still alive, you told yourself. “I can’t- we can’t stay here, Eddie, please. Please-”

“Woah, woah, what?” He sat up, looking up at you. “What are you talking-”

“I can’t.” You sobbed, your voice cracking heavily. Your hand clasped over his heart, shaking your head. “No more, Eddie. We can’t keep- I don’t want to live here anymore! It’s too dangerous, and I can’t-”

He looked at you with wide eyes, his hands resting on your arms. “Y/n,”

“I can’t live without you.” You said more quietly, voice coated with traumatized tears. “Eddie, I was so scared. I still- I’m still scared, I don’t wanna l-loose you! Please, tell me we can go! Please,”

“Okay, okay, shh,” He grabbed your face. “Calm down, shh, it’s alright.” He pulled you close, holding you as tight as he could. He realized know just how traumatized you were. Really, he had trouble remembering all about what happened. He remembered the pain, and the sound of both your screams. He remembered how stubborn you were as you dragged him through the upside down with Henderson. “Y/n, I’m alright, you hear me? I’m here, you’re here. We’re alive, sweetheart. We’re okay.”

You sobbed into his chest, your hand resting at the back of his neck. “Don’t ever leave me.” You cried. “Swear it. Swear you won’t leave me again.”

Despite all of this, he’d never felt more confident. Finally, in his life, he didn’t run. Sure, he got torn up in shreds, but he didn’t run. He was a hero, and it was his year. You made it his year. “I swear it.”

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson fluff

[m1d-45]

welcome to my masterlist!

if there’s anything you’d like to see, please send in an ask here!

here’s my original take on the logistics of sagau, as well as an update after some more information, and here’s my thoughts on how nations worship.

1k event m. list!

warnings [⏵] : yandere / heavy cultish || obsessive

genre [title] : angst || fluff || hurt/comfort

[ under maintenance ! might be a bit messy ]

traveller from afar — aether

‘I'm saying that I'm having a lot of fun traveling with you… It'd be nice if we could just go on like this forever.’

⏵ a new tomorrow

—⏵ my love, my god

the dark side of dawn — diluc

‘Diluc, of Mondstadt. Not interested in idle chit-chat. If you have things you want to get done, let me know.’

⏵ fallen through

⏵ a fault in the heart [red!]

⏵ tongue tied

windborne bard — venti

‘Perfect timing, Traveler! I was about to ask you — what is your greatest wish?’

⏵ unnamed poem, unnamed bard

⏵ in sickness and in health

⏵ (what about me?)

⏵ stella fortuna

beyond mortality — baizhu

‘Even though I'm the doctor, I've still had to trouble you with my health. How shameful... But don't worry. From this day on, I will take care of you.’

⏵ second chances

leonine vanguard — ga ming

‘If I can guard shipments, I can guard people. Since you seem to trust me, how 'bout I be your bodyguard from now on?‘

⏵ vanguard’s fortune

childe — tartaglia

‘Today was great. See you tomorrow, comrade!’

⏵ under duress

⏵ brainrot

⏵ duality of man

—⏵ inversion of fate

vigilant yaksha — xiao

‘I deal in death. If you cannot bring yourself to kill — speak my name.’

⏵ repentance

⏵ burden to bear

⏵ bird xiao things! (split links)

—⏵ and again, and fanart, and again, and again, and fanart, and fanart, and again

⏵ he who is without sin

—⏵ once more, and again, and again, and again, and again, and fanart, and again, and fanart, and fanart

⏵pari!reader tag

vago mundo — zhongli

‘The market is closed and the port has settled. Go get some rest.’

⏵ sagau!zhongli

⏵ a dragon’s gems

⏵ to dream of the divine

⏵ adorned

pillar of fortitude — ayato

‘Good morning. A little sword practice while the day is young is good for the body and mind. I tend to avoid having anything scheduled during these hours... What do you say? Fancy crossing blades with me?’

⏵ words left unsaid

analytical harmony — heizou

‘Ooh, my goodness, life's really put you through the wringer recently, hasn't it? I can tell. Here, why don't you take a seat, tell me the whole story.’

⏵ the scars, the wound

—⏵ (old) first encounters

⏵ upon a hair-thin wire

scarlet leaves pursue wild waves — kazuha

‘Ah, you'd like to learn the art of the sword? Let me see... Alright — here, take this. It's a bamboo blade I just made. With these, we can practice sparring without having to worry about getting injured.’

⏵ remorse

⏵ in a flash

⏵ the wind knows

⏵ judas

protector from afar — thoma

‘I've figured out what I want to do now. My strength is your shield, and I will always be here to protect you.’

⏵ rain or shine

admonishing instruction — alhaitham

’Don't be offended if you try to greet me on the street and I don't respond. It's simply because I'm wearing my soundproof earpieces, that's all.’

⏵ divine permanence

verdant strider — tighnari

‘What, so this sort of thing needs official documentation now? Okay then... Well, hand over your "friendship certificate." I assume it'll need my signature.’

⏵ opportunities arisen

—⏵ prime fortune

eons adrift — wanderer

’Ask me anything if you want. If a question is interesting enough, I may give you an answer.’

⏵ wandering

⏵ rest

ordainer of inexorable judgement — neuvillette

‘Good evening. I hope you have not encountered any unpleasantness today.’

⏵ for all to see

emissary if solitary antiquity — wriothesley

'Want a tip on how to escape from the Gardes? Just give yourself a name that's really long and difficult to pronounce. They'll be stumbling over your name as soon as they try to announce that you are under arrest.'

pankration

pantalone — regrator

‘Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa is actually a gentle soul. Too gentle, in fact…’

⏵ ink, ink, ink

miscellaneous / multiple

⏵ in excess (ft. zhongli + xiao)

⏵ new hopes (ft. the arataki gang)

⏵ emotions (ft. mondstat)

⏵ the young (ft. your main!)

—⏵ still too young (ft… a lot of ppl)

⏵ plagued (ft. diluc + kaeya)

⏵ reverse isekai drabble (ft. your main!)

⏵ slapfight (ft. a lot of people-)

⏵ mea maxima culpa (ft. zhongli + barbara)

⏵ in the stars (ft mona + your main!)

⏵ replacement (ft. kaeya + venti + albedo + xiao)

⏵ discretion advised (ft. mondstat)

⏵ warmth (ft. every pyro character as of 3.4)

⏵ a soft place to land (ft. zhongli + kaeya + diluc + alhaitham + tighnari)

⏵ constellations (ft. barbara + thoma + heizou + collei + kujou sara + sucrose + candace +ganyu)

⏵ connection (ft. diluc + kaeya + kazuha + albedo + kaveh)

⏵ your shield, a sword (ft. thoma + tighnari + zhongli + alhaitham + cyno + albedo)

⏵ divine favor (ft. yae miko + itto + kazuha + kaeya + chongyun + noelle)

⏵ dead leaves (ft. ..people)

—⏵ new sprouts (ft. chongyun)

⏵ the rule of threes (ft. albedo + his brother)

⏵ darling, my dear (ft. diluc + tighnari + childe + xiao + kazuha)

⏵ sandy refuge (ft. nahida + wanderer)

⏵ dancing soldiers (ft. aether)

series!

⏵ dearly beloved — complete trilogy

—⏵ on broken bones

—⏵ death, rebirth, new life

—⏵ the scottish play

⏵ abiogenesis — complete duology

—⏵ from soil…

—⏵ …was birthed chalk

⏵ secret contributions — complete trilogy

—⏵ small miracles

—⏵ hidden blessings

—⏵ silent conclusions

⏵ spoken across stars — episodic

—⏵ kaeya, diluc, thoma ft. noelle + candace

—⏵ kazuha, wanderer ft. tighnari + baizhu

—⏵ zhongli, ayato, heizou ft. xinqiu + chongyun

that’s all for now! i hope you’ve enjoyed your stay, and wish you the best. if there’s something here you particularly liked, consider letting me know with a reblog or comment; i read every single one and they mean the world. whatever the case: i bid you farewell!

(p.s.: if you spot an error like a link leading somewhere it shouldn’t, a missing post entirely, etc., please leave a reply/ send in an ask to let me know as chances are i will not notice it. thank you!)

— midas

#genshin sagau #sagau #zhongli #sagau zhongli #zhongli x reader #kaedehara kazuha #sagau kazuha #sagau kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #shikanoin heizou #sagau heizou #heizou x reader #tighnari #sagau tighnari #tighnari x reader #childe #sagau childe #childe x reader #xiao #sagau xiao #sagau kuki shinobu #sagau arataki itto #sagau thoma #thoma x reader #sagau kaeya #sagau ayato #sagau ayaka #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayaka #sagau venti

[blingblong55]

If I didn't know better- 141

Based on a request and a personal need:

hi! i was wondering if you could do heavy angst for a fem reader? i’m not sure what but uggg i love angst

Angst, F!Reader, death of character, Platonic!Relationship

A/N: I recently cried over Marjorie by Taylor Swift and this request came up at a great time.

If I didn't know betterI'd still think you were talking to me now If I didn't know any better I'd think you were still around

Grief (noun) deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone's death.

They say people can die from a broken heart and maybe that would be the best option for you at this point. They also say that at some point when you lose someone you love, perhaps just maybe you would start to hallucinate. And at the funeral, where now he lies, dressed in his best suit, you might begin to think this was just some imposter, that maybe he was alive. Some kind of dream.

-------

Three days ago, the task force was assigned to make the most challenging decision. Infiltrate into a Russian base. It was meant to be easy until Ghost and Gaz were ambushed and safe, but the trio in which you found yourself had much different luck.

You had told Price you had a bad feeling about this mission. You wanted to pull out of it, felt something in your gut, telling, no, begging you to stay at the base.

Communication systems broke down. You were stuck in a confined space, limbs weak. Price and Soap trying their best to get them and you out of that space.

"It's okay, Bonnie, I'll get us out, just wait and see." He reassured you, Price trying to push the vast wall that collapsed on you three, Soap holding your hand. You, well you see you had gone through something similar as a child, except, you were surrounded by other children, 12 trapped, 3 survived.

Soap was the one who knew the whole story, Price knew bits of it. That's why they fought hard to get you out, not them, but you. After 13 hours of continuous struggle, you all got out, "Told ya, Bonnie" he kissed your cheek.

It was hell after that though. Ghost and Gaz are back at base, stuck in the hard bed of the med-bay. Nurses and doctors had to tame them, they would wake up, screaming and fighting. Took many soldiers to put Ghost back into that bed.

They hadn't heard from any of you since their ambush. At some hour, Ghost feared for the outcome. Gaz on the bed next to his, "They'll be a'right mate, I know it." he tried to reassure his teammate.

Once the three of you reached a safe house, things were calm, for a while. "Think Gaz and Ghost are doing well?" Soap spoke first, breaking the silence. You all three sat on a sofa, staring into nothing.

"Maybe" you softly answer. "Better be." Price spoke next.

After that, you snuggled into soaps side, resting as he watched over you. Always your guardian angel.

Three hours into your sleep, you wakened up by an alarmed Price. "GET YOUR WEAPONS, ITS TIME TO MOVE!" He yelled over a loud sound, possibly a bomb.

Soap took you by the hand, guiding you out, you coughed through the smoke. Bullets being shot at what you thought was the enemy. You all ran, gaining bruises as you passed by rocks and tree branches. At some point Price signals you two to run faster, guns in hand.

Smoke and fire surround you. Enemy soldiers rushing at you three. Price and you start to shoot at the enemy, taking some down. Soap is being protected by you two, he builds an explosive strong enough to take a few of them down.

"GET DOWN!" He commands, Price and you obey, the bomb goes off, and at least 7 enemy soldiers scatter to bits from it. Blood falling from the sky. 19 more to go.

Mud, so much dust and blood on your uniforms staining your soul. And it's true what they say, war is never fun, kind or welcoming to those who fight it. It's not even rewarding, it leaves you scarred and nearly dead every time you pick a gun up. You die with each bullet you fire, not physically but mentally you do.

It's war and it will never be fair.

"GO, GO, GO!" Price commanded, he ran behind you two, leaving no one, at least you two, behind.

You hide by some creek, and you all sit there, waiting for the next attack and listening to the water flow down. You took some of the water, cleaning your face which was full of nothing but mud and some blood. "Think Ghost has been tranquillised, by now?" Soap never fails to know his teammates. Price chuckles, "No doubt that kid is giving 'em hell."

"19 left," you softly say.

"What's that about, Bonnie?"

"19 more enemy soldiers," you look up at them, the cold wind now hitting your face.

Long limbs and frozen swims You'd always go past where our feet could touch And I complained the whole way there

"I told you Price, this one would be hard, I knew it'd be."

"Look kid, this is war, nothing will be fucking easy, we are soldiers, we follow orders and execute them to absolute precision."

Soap gave you a kind look. He was always the one to trust your gut, knowing you had a reason to feel this.

For hours after, you all walked in silence. Boots making the noise, it was now around 2am, so close to the base, yet so far. At some point you find yourself in the cold mountains of the country, only surrounded by the snow and stones.

You all sat down, looking at each other, not saying a word. "Shit couldn't get any worse for us." he chuckles,

Soap and you chuckle with him. You all start to tell stories, about the days of your young years in the military. These were the conversations worth keeping for years to come.

The car ride back and up the stairs I should've asked you questions I should've asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

An hour passes the cold stormy weather, messing with your vision. "This is the plan, we go south for now, try and avoid attention, understand?" Price asks, looking at you both.

For the next thirty minutes, you walk, jog and run. Desperately wanting to find some ally to help you. Unfortunately, one met their demise.

5 soldier,s left to just three of you, an easy task. What happened next left the two of you empty.

Price took out two, you one. Only two left, Soap and you take out another, the scope in his gun finally being of good use. One left, what's more, to ask.

All your closets of backlogged dreams And how you left them all to me

"Bonnie!" Soap pushed you to the ground, and a gunshot echoed around. "Enemy down!" Price walked to the two of you. The three of you now stand there, breathless yet victorious.

"Soap?"

You asked once his smile was wiped off. Blood gushed from his mouth. He fell on his knees, looking up at you, you kneeled down, holding him close. Price shot the actual final enemy. "Soap, stay with me, c'mon, don't do this!" You panicked, all he could do was look at you. With the ghost of a smile on him, he cups your cheek, "I always did love you, r/n" he barely let out. He fell on his side, Price and you trying to stop the bleeding and trying to keep him warm.

"Soap? please don't leave us...don't leave me," you whispered, there was nothing more to do, but watch him die.

"It's time for me to go home, Bonnie"

You shook your head, trying to cancel out his words, "No, not yet, you stay here, with us...me....please Johnny, please." you begged knowing damn well all was lost.

Price took his hat off and rested it over his chest, looking at his comrade.

"Rest, you have earned that, son"

Soap sighs, his hand holding yours, grip loosening. He looks at you, with a small smile as he closes his eyes.

What died didn't stay dead You're alive, you're alive in my head

"I love you Johnny, my favourite friend." You kiss his cheek, and he finally let go. Finally met peace.

It's been now three days since his death. Only Price has seen you since then, you have been sleeping in Soaps bed. Wearing an old jacket, but not touching the rest of his stuff. Although the love you two had for the other was platonic, you kept thinking of the what if's.

Maybe if you loved him more than just a friend, maybe he could stay just a little longer. If you didn't know better, it was him humming you to sleep each night.

His ghost dances with your shadow, kissing you good night, wishing you could stop crying and blaming yourself. His favourite girl in the whole world. The one he could never stop loving.

Even in his last moments, he loved you.

At his funeral, you sobbed into the arms of the three men. You swore he was there, and felt some weird warmth on your shoulder when you looked down at his grave.

What died didn't stay dead You're alive, so alive

He was alive, in you, he is alive. He still tells you his jokes and makes comments on Ghost's stupid masks. Right now, he is right there, hand on the small of your back as you put a white rose and an orange tulip on his coffin. The Family walked away, but you stayed there. You grabbed some of the dirt and threw it at the coffin once it was lowered.

Sat by his now grave, been a full year now. Some moved on, others didn't.

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were singing to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around

"Hi, Bonnie, how are things at the base?" he sits beside you, playing with the grass and flowers.

"Price let his beard grow a little more. We have a tattoo of you," you chuckle, "Gaz got it too, you know how he hated tattoos" You look at him.

"Can't believe it took my death to get a bloody tattoo" he laughs a little, hand on your back, his head resting on your shoulder.

"Ghost and I are getting more along now, he talks about you a lot" You too play with the grass underneath you.

"Hey, you better not replace me"

"But not to worry, I'll never replace you"

"How are you?"

"It's been hell, Johnny, I forgot your voice" Your voice cracks, tears running down your cheek. His hand wipes them away, and you feel a cold breeze pass by.

"I'll be waiting for you, Bonnie, and I bet you'll get tired of my voice."

"You'd be 29 now, Happy birthday Johnny." You kiss the tips of your fingers and place them on his stone.

He kissed your cheek, another cold breeze you feel.

I know better But I still feel you all around I know better But you're still around

------

Tags: @screamonic

A/N: I think I had a mental breakdown as I wrote it, so...yeah..if it's shit...sorry

#cod mw2 #cod 141 #cod x reader #cod #mw2 141 #task force 141 #ghost cod #mwii #141 x reader #141 #soap x reader #cod soap #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #cod mw soap #soap mw2 #ghost x soap #soap call of duty #mw2 #johnny mactavish #john mactavish #soap modern warfare #soap fanart #soap x you #soap angst #cod angst #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod price

[artificial-transmutations]

Alpha Firefighting

Reece felt bad about his job. It was not that it was particularly hard to do or that he was bad at it. The colleagues were reasonably nice (although they were often a particular kind of person that Reece didn't like very much in general). The pay was good, fantastic even for the kind of work he had to do.

No, that wasn't the problem, really. It was just that Reece sometimes felt like his job was useless, in the grand scheme of things.

He worked as a financial account manager for a big insurance company and more often than not, Reece felt like he the world in general could very much do without his job, or the company he worked for. On some occasions, he even asked himself if society wouldn't be better off without greedy capitalistic companies like the one he worked for.

Even though he always tried to do the right thing, this lack of sense troubled him a lot. He donated money and blood, didn't eat meat and tried not to fly too much, but this kind of central pain point in his life kept nagging on him.

In the nights, he often dreamed of a more fulfilling live. He pictured himself as a doctor, or a nurse. Perhaps a paramedic, or a firefighter. He even could imagine himself as a social worker or a veterinarian. But every time he woke up, he was still the same old balding office worker.

Reece wasn't too young, and he had his fair share of bills to pay, so as much as he wanted, a job change would have been a really bad idea at this point in his life, however unhappy his job made him.

One evening, when he came back from work, he passed a carnival that was still under construction. Reece was a big fan of these kinds of events. They provided fun and distraction for people who needed it most. There were many different reasons why someone might feel depressed, and there was nothing wrong with having fun to forget about them. Besides, the bright colors and colorful costumes always brightened his mood.

Strolling over the place, Reece watched the busy people erecting tents or shacks. One tent was already finished, and when he passed it, he heard someone calling from inside. It was a raspy old woman's voice asking "Do you want to know your fate?"

Reece stopped. A fortune teller's tent! Reece didn't really believe in that, but he admired the acting skills of fortune tellers, as well as the ambience, so he didn't mind to indulge in this kind of event from time to time.

He had nothing better to do this evening, so he turned around and entered the tent, and said: "Why not?" in his usual soft and friendly voice.

The lady sitting behind the table looked up at him. She was an older woman, probably in her fifties, with long black hair and dressed in a red robe. On her head was a kind of turban. In front of her was no crystal ball or deck of cards, but a single burning candle.

She regarded him with a mysterious smile and said: "Welcome! You are my first customer in this city, so I will give you a special reading."

The air in the tent was heavy with incense and Reece was happy like a young boy. He liked it when the show people were in character like that.

He nodded happily and said: "Okay! Tell me everything, please."

The lady looked into her candle and moved back and forth, like she was in a trance, before she said: "I see your fate... You are a good man, perhaps one of the best that walk the earth. But the thing that pains you... your job... you won't escape it until you retire. Your fate is to be unhappy for all of your working life."

Reece blinked. That was both unusual and sad. Normally, fortune tellers made a show of telling you unspecific good things that were coming his way. This prediction... was hitting too close to home. His unhappiness with the situation must have been so obvious that the old lady picked up on it.

Without thinking too much, he answered: "But... I don't want that. I want to have a job that's important!"

The lady opened her eyes and stared at him, before she answered: "The fate that is read is what life has in store for you. You can, however, change it. But it will cost you dearly."

"How much do I need to pay?"

"You don't have to pay in money, but in what makes you special. Do you want that?" The question sounded genuine and unjudging.

Reece didn't need to think about his answer much:

"Yes, I think I would gladly pay anything to be able to help people in my job."

The old lady smiled and blew out her candle. "Then go on and do so!"

From one moment to the next, there was pitch black darkness in the tent.

"Uhm... hello?" Reece called but stopped again at once. His voice didn't sound like it was reflected from the fabric walls of a tiny tent, but more like he was in a bigger room. He stood up and felt around until he found a light switch. After he flicked it, cold neon lights came on.

Reece was astonished. He wasn't in the tent anymore, but he was standing in some sort of locker room. It wasn't hard to discern what kind of locker room, either, since there was a lot of equipment and uniforms hanging around that pointed to one particular job.

"A firefighter?" Reece mumbled as he looked around.

"Reece, hurry up and get changed!" yelled a voice from outside.

What kind of magic was this? Did the old lady somehow made people think he was a firefighter?

Nevertheless, almost automatically, Reece disrobed. The moment he put away his suit into one of the lockers, it became a more casual attire, jeans and t-shirt. However, Reece was more concerned with the clothing still on his body, his underwear. He was sure he put on a comfortable pair of boxers this morning, but he was wearing a loose jockstrap. That didn't make sense! He didn't even own such a piece of underwear!

To make matters worse, the jockstrap was quickly changing, getting tighter and... No. No, that wasn't what was happening. It was filling up! His junk was getting bigger, mightily though. He wasn't getting hard, it was just his flaccid dick getting longer and girthier, alongside with his balls that swelled with masculine seed.

The changes didn't stop there, quite the opposite. Reece watched in amazement, as his body transformed, from his groin outward in all direction. His ass grew fitter and firmer, and his belly sucked itself in, revealing clearly visible ab muscle that stretched a bit, giving him some centimeters of extra height.

At the same time, his calves firmed up with muscle. They didn't change size a lot, but his fat melted away and was replaced by dense muscle.

As the changes reached his knees on the one end, his chest began to itch, as hundreds of small hairs sprouted on the changing flesh. It went a long way from the pudding-like consistency to two hard slabs of muscle, coated with manly hair. The changes continued down his lower legs and his arms. Biceps and triceps filled with mass, two strong arms that were made for breaking doors with a fireman's axe. His muscular legs gave him the necessary stability to do so. His feet enlarged a good one or two numbers, which would certainly help him keep his balance. Finally, the changes reached his head. Stubble formed on his chin and his hairstyle became a stylish, yet douchey cut. With his face squaring into the perfect male form, Reece’s personality changed.

Damn, was he looking good today. He gave his ample cock a last tug before he quickly changed into his uniform, ready to do his job.

Finally, he put on his sunglasses, grinning at his handsome reflection. He didn't have a particularly deep connection to his firefighter job, but the uniform looked awesome on his alpha male body, and he got to spend time with his bros. Besides, a lot of chicks and fags looked up to firefighters, which gave him plenty of material to stick his dick in.

After the operation, he needed to snap some new tinder pics and wait for the inevitable stream of thirsty comments from which he could choose from for tonight. He didn't discriminate if it was a boy or girl worshipping him, unlike most of his bros, but he got them all. He was, after all, a true alpha.

Be sure to check out my riot page for more stories, pictures and early access!

#male transformation #muscle transformation

[glazedtrash721]

Beware, this is a LONG post!!

TW: a lil' scopophobia perhaps

So, you know how there's a boat load of Welcome Home AUs floating around?

Well, now there's one more!! (And even more given some time!)

Let me introduce you to my first Welcome Home AU:

Children's Hospital AU!!

In this AU, all of our lovely neighbors are staff at the town's local Children's Hospital, which is officially titled the "Healthy Home Children's Hospital", or HHCH for short! This AU doesn't really have any spooky or funky elements to it, as I was pretty desperate for ideas that haven't already been done when I thought of it. Although, this AU does serve its purpose in being very cute and wholesome, and I'm sure that it could make for some fun content!

Characters and more info can be found under the break!

By the way, these drawings are not to scale! I just made them so that they would fit on the page :/

Anyways...

Let us first start with the Doctors!

Doctors Darling, Joyful, and Frankly have bested too many years of medical school and are now here to take care of their young patients! Both Dr. Wally Darling and Dr. Julie Joyful are physicians, and they can be found buzzing around the hospital, tending to whoever needs it! Dr. Darling, with his calm and cool energy, is more often assigned to older and more anxious kids. Dr. Joyful, on the other hand, is often tasked with the care of younger children and babies with her more energetic and sweet personality. Dr. Frank Frankly is the surgeon of the group, and he excells with his steady hands and his thirst for knowledge and for solving problems! Dispite his grumpy appearance, the children find him a joy to see when he checks up on them before and after surgery!

Next, we have the Nurses!

Nurses Sally, Barnaby, and Howdy help make up the back bone of the hospital, and they are always on their toes helping those in need! Nurse Sally can typically be found in the ER, where her quick feet and her sunny disposition are a must have, though she can be found bouncing all over the hospital! Nurse Barnaby never fails to put a smile on a patient's face with his funny jokes, and he is a dream when someone needs a distraction from a needle or anything else that may be frightening them! Nurse Howdy is extremely handy with his four hands and arms, making him an amazing multi-tasker! He is also a master of hugs, and he is wonderful with calming down particularly upset patients. He and Barnaby are also often called on the occurrence where a patient (or even parent!) needs restrained, thanks to their size and even tempers!

Lastly, we have those with more miscellaneous jobs!

Mr. Eddie and Ms. Poppy also have important jobs that help the hospital and its patients! Eddie is the HHCH's trusty mailman! He takes gifts and letters from the mail room and gift shop and delivers them to their recipients. As he knows the hospital's layout like the back of his hand, he also often accompanys visitors and volunteers, such as those who bring therapy dogs and such! He also takes extra care to dress up on holidays and other occasions! Ms. Poppy is an Emotional Consultant, and she is there to help patients and their families make difficult decisions, usually regarding treatment. Still the nervous bird that she is, she still tries to put on a brave face and a warm smile to those who need a little extra guidance or reassurance.

They're all colorless now, but I'll probably add that soon lol.

Also, I haven't designed Home yet, but I imagine he'd be the Headmaster of the hospital or something similar? I may give him a design later on.

Anyways, that concludes my first Welcome Home AU! Feel free to ask for any specific info that you want me to elaborate on, and feel free to use these silly dudes in your own fan content, given that it's not sussy (NSFW in the sexual way), and that a lil' credit is given! Otherwise, go ham!

#welcome home #welcomehome #art #welcome home arg #welcome home au #au #my art #wally darling #julie joyful #frank frankly #welcome home wally #welcome home julie #welcome home frank #sally starlet #barnaby b beagle #howdy pillar #welcome home sally #welcome home barnaby #welcome home howdy #eddie dear #poppy partridge #welcome home eddie #welcome home poppy #these little sillies are in charge of your healthcare #your health is in their little puppet hands #imagine how many jokes howdy could charge you #man healthcare is so expensive I have to tell this caterpillar 105 498 knock knock jokes #welcome home children's hospital au #this is so many tags my golly

[art-of-secret-dark-heart]

If MBTI types were yandere dudes #3 (ENFP)

Note: just in case… the mbti types as Yanderes are just for fun and I’m not an expert in mbti. It’s exaggerated so… I hope this doesn’t offend anyone. Lol… also this is more of a ramble for me to de-stress. DNI if you’re a minor.

Content Warnings:Highly obsessive and desire to murder

——-

✨ENFP✨

Dude will be constantly thirsting for your love. From day one, he’ll be the enthusiastic guy who welcomes you to whatever community you’re trying to fit into (whether it’s a town, school, workplace, etc). Most likely throws a welcoming party for you.

He’ll make sure there’s nothing wrong, that you have no hardships/injustice to deal with. If there is something wrong, he will fight for you. It’ll become a whole big thing in the community. He loves you too much to see you get hurt or get disrespected on.

Would like to go to places with you to discover new things. Probably would be taking pictures of you with whatever beautiful sight you guys will encounter. Don’t go out of frame. The beauty of the scenery wouldn’t be complete without you.

Really good at picking up subtle shift of mood. So as hard as you try to cover up whatever you’re truly feeling, he’ll be able to see it all. And if you’re not happy, he will do his best to cheer you up. (Just don’t leave him). But this can be dangerous…if he sees you’re unhappy with someone like a friend or family of yours, he might think you have been hurt by them. Even though it might just be that you had a bad day, or something as simple as being too late to buy your favorite snack, so you’re a bit grumpy. To him, you’re everything, thus he might find a way to hurt that friend or family. And if he’s under stress and has been hurt by you… he might just skip to killing them instead.

Your “lover” would want to share his enthusiasm on whatever inspires him with you. His infectious happy personality might even rub off on you. But this strong positive mindset might become irritating when you’re trying to tell him what he’s doing is wrong/bothering you. Yet somehow he’ll spin it into something positive. Like if you want to be left alone and not always having to hang out with him, he’ll just smile and say, “Aww… honey, you’re such a romantic. They do say, “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.” Alright then, I’ll see you later. In the meantime, I’ll plan and get everything ready for our next rendezvous !” But if this becomes the norm, where you just keep going against what he wants, then he can get judgmental about your life choices. Then making it sound like being with and loving him, will be full of happiness. So why go against his love for you?

Hate surprises? Well too bad, there will be many spontaneous “fun” to be have (most likely romantic/ and something creative/unique) from this guy. But he does enjoy the small moments too. So it won’t be all crazy hectic (Good luck to the introverts).

He will love it if you open up your heart to him. Definitely will slowly share what’s in his heart with you. He’ll fall in love with you hard and pretty quickly, but won’t propose just yet. Trying to instead figure out ways on how to make you “happy” everyday. He’s even fine if you’re away for awhile… when you guys are dating. If married… maybe not.

If you’re doing some good for the world, or just listen and understand his goals/dreams etc, as well as somehow inspire him (with something creative), he will be in love with you. If you’re the curious type and share the same sense of humor with him, then even better.

Always the friendly outgoing guy who helps others, he would have a ton of friends. They’re just everywhere; in the town, your neighborhood, your doctor’s office, wherever you go, even where you are online, and probably even among your personal social circle like family.

Although he’s a guy with a positive outlook, always keeping up a facade of happy sunshine. He will feel hurt and lose sleep, if you say you actually hate him (the same applies if you really criticize him). Will be thinking up all night on how to make things better with you.

He loves making plans with you, but if the plan involves something that he has never done before, he can sometimes lose focus. Maybe too caught up in your beauty. Unless he feels the plan can benefit his relationship with you (like maybe you have been so “mean” to him. So he will push his focus into doing something together, something that you have always enjoy doing. Or some kind of “bonding” activity.) Too bad he’ll never lose focus or interest in you.

If he does kidnap you (maybe more like marry you and has a way to keep you with him without actually locking you up), then be prepare for a chaotic mess. Sometimes chores would hardly be done, so the mess will pile up, especially if he’s feeling hurt by you. It’ll just be a dumpster/land fìll mess. So you gotta push him into doing them, maybe by suggesting that you guys can “bond” over doing chores together…. Although do be careful, he’ll somehow turn doing chores into something romantic.

He actually wants to help others, but he would drop everything to help you, you’re his number one priority. Even if you just say you’re bored.

As it was said before, he falls in love with you pretty quick. Hardly even knows you, but he’s already thinking you’re the one. Find some way to make it sound like you’re connected to him. Like maybe a string of fate sort of thing. And oh boy, he would so whole heartedly believe it. Your “love” gives him life. So strong is his belief in this “love”, that he might burn down the community that you guys are in, if you ever try to completely leave him….

But after some time, if you don’t shower him with love like he does with you, he might get a bit more needy. Maybe feeling down and thinking that he’s not doing enough to prove his love to you. If you push him enough (being “mean” towards him), he will be controlling in what you do and where you go. Maybe even control what you like. Judging you, and maybe surprising to you, being cold. No more sunshine. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

Fantasy or isekai whatever: maybe a religious leader. If not, maybe a rich philanthropist, or just head of an organization that does good in the world. Will always have open doors for the people. And open arms for you.

More of a horror touch (based on popular media): maybe a film director who makes happy romantic fantasy movies, but his films are slowly becoming darker… and there are strange rumors on the set. Or maybe an event planner for… special (deadly) events, that may require him to organize a heavy bloody painstaking clean up by the end of it (Probably only plan all of it for your sake). Or could maybe be a special (supernatural?) consultant??

———

Okay, that’s all for today. Went overboard, but that was fun. I might post again tomorrow (If not busy). If I do, then it’ll likely just be one. Again, if you got a type you wanna see next, kindly just let me know. Hope you guys have fun reading!

(Also, I hope to soon reblog some yandere stories from other writers again. Plus maybe post some of my art and maybe plan for a game. All yandere.)

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere male x reader #yandere x gn reader #mbti #tw: toxic relationship #yandere male #male yandere #ENFP #rambling #my stuff #tumblr format for posting is a pain

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Doctor Who: The Star Beast- A Reasonably Watchable Mess

You may have noticed that, despite desperately positive, brittle reviews in the mainstream media, the last few years of Doctor Who went down like a lead balloon with actual fans and ordinary viewers. Turns out that a patronising gender-flip that served no plot purpose followed by a series of episodes in which the Doctor shilled for Space Amazon, murdered innocent giant spiders and delivered completely unearned straight-to-camera speeches like a fucking after-school special weren’t popular moves. The show’s viewing figures plummetted (despite contrary claims from the BBC that turned out, very simply, to be lies) and its review score aggregate on Rotten Tomatoes plunged, at one point, to literally 0%. Hilariously, the review aggregate from the mainstream media was around 90% at the time, once again demonstrating that the average critic can be bought for less than I spend assuring the silence of my past victims (the joke is that all my past victims are dead and I don’t spend a fucking thing on their silence). The abject failure of the Whitaker/Chibnall era was inevitable and any normal person could have predicted it. The BBC, however, didn’t and had a bit of a panic when they realised just how fucked their ratings were. Not that they admitted that, of course, but the fact they brought back the dream-team of showrunner Russell ‘The’ Davies and David Tennant for the 60th Anniversary Specials instead of letting the current incumbents stick around until after the anniversary kinda speaks volumes. So, now we’re getting three Anniversary specials, starring Tennant and helmed by Davies. The first one’s out, and it falls on me to review it as fairly as possible. So… how is it?

Well, put it this way: it’s not terrible, but it’s not the confident, unapologetic return to form I was hoping for either. It concerns a minor villain from the old DW comics called Beep the Meep who poses as a cute, furry critter while secretly plotting the genocide of the entire universe, a reunion with Catherine Tate’s always-delightful Donna Noble and a resolution to the Human/Time Lord meta-crisis that nearly straight-up killed her last time she was on-screen. And, in fairness, the stuff that works works pretty well. The jokes are funny, Tennant and Tate are excellent in their respective roles, the Meep is gloriously fucking psychotic (though the voice actor does sound like they’re phoning it in a bit) and Yasmin Finney, playing Donna’s trans daughter, is a lot less insufferable than she would have been if Chibnall had written her lines. I actually thought the bit where Donna threatens to “descend” on some kids who dead-name her in the street was well-handled and pretty accurately captured the protective instincts of a parent with a trans daughter. Mainly, she’s just there for the representation, though, and does the square root of bugger all to advance the plot. That’s probably a mercy, since I suspect the show would have had a hard time disguising the fact that this fifteen year old kid is being played by a twenty year old woman (who seems to have borrowed David Bowie’s cheekbones) if her part was any more prominent. But yeah- it’s a fun, knockabout adventure that doesn’t overstay its welcome and doesn’t try to outdo the entire show up to that point just because its been a completely arbitrary 60 years since the first episode. It’s basically fun and basically fine. It’s destined to be lauded to ludicrous excess by a mainstream media who are terrified of offering a proper critique because it’s got a trans person in it, while simultaneously being shat upon by online reviewers who know they can win easy points with the fans by challenging the suffocating ubiquity of the Standard Approved Opinion. In truth, though, it’s neither great nor awful- it’s just an hour of television that’s worth watching once but only once. It contains some good stuff… and some shite stuff.

Ah yes, the shite. That’s what you came to read about, isn’t it? Nobody in their right mind shows up at my blog-step for kind words and understanding: you come here because you know I have the pithiest insults and pissiest hot-takes. And yes: there’s some real fucking garbage to dunk on here. First of all, the Human/Time Lord meta-crisis gets resolved in the dumbest fucking way possible. For those of you who don’t remember, the ending of Modern Season 4 of DW was one of the most heartbreaking things ever attempted in a show designed for family viewing. Donna took on the consciousness of a Time Lord in order to save the universe but nearly burnt out her synapses in the processes. The Doctor wiped her mind to save her life, and then had to leave, because if she ever remembered him or the adventures they’d shared together, the crisis would reassert itself and her brain would overload, killing her. And the way they get around this, initially, is alright. Because Donna had a child, part of the meta-crisis got passed onto her, allowing two minds to take a strain that would kill just one. It’s a sweet and perfectly acceptable way of sorting a complex problem and something that legitimately wouldn’t have occurred to the Doctor at the time, because he had to come up with a solution that would work in the moment, not something that would require a nine month gestation period. But then, for some stupid fucking reason, they took it one step further and had Donna and her daughter simply relinquish the power of the meta-crisis, handwaving the obvious bullshit-ness of this move by claiming it just wouldn’t have occurred to a male-presenting Time Lord. The Doctor’s not an idiot. If that was an option, it would have occurred to him. Fuck, it did occur to him that one time Rose Tyler absorbed the Time Vortex and he had her give it up, channelling it into him to save her life at the cost of forcing a regeneration. It’s simultaneously contrived and slap-dash- a hasty right-on girl-power moment that fails miserably to play by the rules and cheapens the original story of the meta-crisis retroactively. It also brings us, neatly, to the phrase ‘male-presenting Time Lord’.

There’s a line in the excellent It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia wherein Charlie describes himself as “a straight man who poops transgender”. The phrase ‘male-presenting Time Lord’ sounds weirdly similar to me. It’s too specific and technical, while also including a wildly silly element (‘Time Lord’ is a vaguely ethereal, grandiose title that doesn’t gel with earthly, human discussions of gender identity). People just don’t talk like that. Sometimes people write like that, seeking an economy of phrasing that looks good on the page… but nobody actually talks like that. I mean, the context in which it’s used is stupid, but the phrasing itself is stupider. It’s also emblematic of a problem with the script as a whole. It feels like a first draught.

What do I mean by that? Well, there’s just a lot of instances where conversations feel slightly stilted or opportunities are missed. Case in point, there’s a bit where Donna’s discussing her kid growing up with her own mum, and it feels like it was meant to be a poignant discussion of the trials and tribulations of raising a child and then realising that they’re not what you were expecting but their own, completely separate person. What we get is just a placeholder where a couple of jokes occur but nothing of import is really said. Similarly, there’s a line where the Doctor muses that he doesn’t know who he is any more, which feels like it was meant to be developed into a meditation on his sense of identity after so many regenerations, metatextually addressing the show’s loss of a coherent, inter-regenerational identity for its lead character. Absolutely fucking nothing comes of it. There’s even a bit where a UNIT scientific advisor in a wheelchair encounters a flight of stairs and the way it’s shot makes it feel like there should have been a joke there. Maybe there could have been a really slow lift that she has to use while her soldiers rush up the stairs, or maybe she could have made one of them carry her. I’d have taken a lazy, low-hanging quip like “stairs…. My old nemesis” to be honest. But all we get is “sorry about the stairs,” and that’s it. My point is that there’s a superficiality to a lot of the scenes and lines that yells ‘PLACEHOLDER’, and areas that desperately need polish.

Speaking of polish: London is once again too fucking clean. I wish TV shows would stop doing that- making London look like the MCU’s version of fucking New York- all glass skyscrapers and clean streets. The real London is a bizarre, dystopian mix of impersonal steel monuments to capital, crumbling baroque architecture from the middling-glorious past and slumping, poverty-stricken housing from a fucking Dickens novel. The city has a really specific, slightly nightmarish character that most telly shows and films fail miserably to capture. It’s inexcusable in this case, because Doctor Who actually used to do a pretty good job of showing London as it is. Which is mental, since it used to be filmed in Swansea in cocking Wales.

But I digress. My final major issue is that the message of the show’s text is wildly at odds with the metatextual message of the specials’ mere existence. The whole reason the BBC re-hired Tennant and Davies onto the show was to announce a return of the Who everyone loved; a tacit admission than the last few years of lazy virtue-signalling and shoddy script-work had been a mistake that they were keen to move on from. There is literally no other reason to take such an obvious backward step in the show’s development. Yet the episode The Star Beast keeps bringing up Whitaker’s tenure as the Doctor as though it’s something to be celebrated. We get lines like “The Doctor’s a man and a woman. And both. And neither. And more,” (again, nobody fucking talks like that) that feel like an attempt to fold the previous three years into the acceptable canon, when the whole reason the specials are happening is to renounce them and leave them in the cold. Then again, that’s the Beeb for you- it's amazing if the left hand knows what the left hand's doing. If someone's bothered to inform the right hand, it's so surprising as to be frankly suspicious. Add to that the extra layer of complexity that comes from getting Disney to part-fund the show and you’re bound to end up with a confused mess. Also, why did they bother getting Disney to part-fund this? The Special Effects look like something a fourteen year-old could whip up in his bedroom. Which is fine- I never mind the sets wobbling in Who: I just can’t figure out where all the fucking money went.

I think the root problem is two-fold. First, as much as I loved Russell T. Davies’ original time as showrunner, it’s really obvious he’s gotten old. It’s only been fifteen years since his time in charge ended, but sometimes, the ageing process kicks a guy’s arse really suddenly (ask me about waking up one day to discover I now have man-boobs sometime). There’s this interview he did recently about how Davros represents an offensive portrayal of wheelchair users, and it’s clearly just the ramblings of a confused old man. Nobody looks at Davros, creator of the Daleks, and thinks ‘yup- there goes a typical wheelchair user’. Part of the point of his character is that he’s kind of admirable on paper, overcoming age and sickness to achieve the impossible… but he perverts and subverts those expectations by doing something fucking appalling. It’s a nuanced, complex take on the way pain and suffering can make a person sympathetic without necessarily redeeming them. And Russel T. Davies, a once-talented writer who should understand this stuff, just doesn’t get it any more. He’s well-meaning, but he’s clearly just not up to the job any more. I mean, he still has talent- his renewed tenure will be better than Chibnall’s… but maybe it would have been a better idea to let the poor schmuck retire on a high note.

The other problem is deeper and more intractable. The world has changed since Doctor Who was the best thing on television, and it might be that it just can’t work any more. The modern era of Who was born from a place of hope yet, also, a place of marginalisation. It was 2005. The government of the day had dome some pretty fucked up things, but they were nowhere near as evil as the governments who were to succeed them. Sci-fi was still a niche thing allowing for experimentation and weirdness. There were definite good guys and bad guys on the world stage and in domestic politics: there were genuine victims on one side and hateful bigots on the other, and it seemed like it might actually be possible for the underdogs to win for a change. 2023 is a different world. We’ve seen the worst UK governments since Thatcher in the 80s (and people kept voting for them) and the worst US President in history (a Savaloy-orange freak with the hair of a sexually-confused Nazi). On the cultural level, the lines between victims and villains have blurred, with the arrival of the never-ending Oppression Olympics birthing a generation of dead-eyed bullies who hide behind nominal ‘oppressed’ status in order to tear down genuinely nice people (like that time a load of wankers piled onto a scientist who landed a probe on a moving comet FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HUMAN HISTORY because he did while wearing a T-shirt with a stylised naked lady on it). Identity has replaced solidarity as the go-to discussion in progressive (or allegedly progressive) circles. The sci-fi genre itself has become popular- meaning it’s infested with normies who don’t understand it but do want to own it. Doctor Who was never built for this world. The change in culture and society over the last just-under-twenty years is more significant, in some ways, than the changes that occurred between its original outing in the 60s and its reboot in 2005, and I don’t know if it can survive those changes. We inhabit a world where actual heroism and even basic decency seem less important than the performance of those qualities in ways that a mass audience can understand and where nuanced solutions, informed by kindness, are verboten because everyone’s supposed to pick a side. There’s no room for a genteel, British/Alien gadabout with two hearts and a silly sonic screwdriver in a world where the battle-lines are drawn and performative virtue has become a universal aspiration. In order to fit our tawdry world, Doctor Who would have to stop being Doctor Who. And, to be blunt, our culture doesn’t really deserve any form of Doctor Who at the moment.

So yes, The Star Beast is pretty good. It’s a nice slice of television that fails on many fronts, but still manages to entertain. But what next? Where can we possibly go from here? Personally, I intend to watch the specials and- if they’re okay- Ncuti Gatwa’s era after that. Then I think I’m done. By rights, the show should face cancellation while it’s still strong enough to bow out gracefully, but if that doesn’t happen, I’ll still have to pick a point to stop watching. Sooner or later, all good things must come to an end, and if the BBC isn’t big enough to admit that, at least I am. I suggest you pick somewhere to draw a line, too.

#Doctor Who #The Star Beast #Review #TV review #Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #Secret-Diary-of-an-FA

[kimbap-r0ll]

Twisted cast(of your choice)with quirkless reader who is from BNHAverse, and reader wanted to be a hero until the doctor confirmed that they were quirkless, their old friends left them and they got bullied for having no quirk. Present day, they are bitter, cynical and view Twisted Wonderland as no different from their old world(magicless) and they start to talk about their old dreams and world after they started to open up and allow themselves to be vulnerable for once(can also be hurt/comfort).

Hello! I’ll try my best with this one! I decided to go with Kalim for this one. The reader’s going to be in high school in their world too, just a regular one unlike UA :)

Kalim x Quirkless!reader

You were always upset that you couldn’t join the revered UA because you were simply born different. You were told from a young age that this difference was a hindrance to people, though your parents tried to tell you otherwise. Kids would pick on you for not being able to fly or grow wings, and teachers were always worried about your career path. You grew up jaded, upset at the world for this unfortunate outcome.

That is until you somehow ended up going to a world that was totally different from yours. You woke up and the next thing you knew you were surrounded by “magic” users along with a talking cat that could also breathe fire.

You soon find out you’re in the prestigious Night Raven College, and that you now have to be a prefect for a rundown shed of a building (courtesy of the “kind” headmaster). It wasn’t the best, but in your head you thought maybe it would be better than your high school where people made fun of your quirklessness.

Spoiler alert: no

You ended up still feeling like an outcast because you didn’t have any magic. A dorm leader even sneered at you in the beginning, saying he could smell you weren’t a magician and how you could be torn apart easily by the students. A welcoming message of course.

Not only that, but you had to deal with students “overblotting” and causing all kinds of other trouble. Yes you were worried about missing your high school but thjs was way too much.

But then, when all seemed lost, you met Kalim. He was an energetic boy who was wayy too interested in how your world was like. He would ask you about the quirks and heroes, exclaiming how cool it would be. He eventually asks you about your dreams

You pause. You had come to this world thinking of nothing necessarily hopeful, and most of the time you were plotting a way to get out. But he made you stop, think for a moment what you really wanted to do other than run away.

“Well, I wanted to be a hero for a while, but I can’t do anything because I’m, well, quirkless,” you reply, not looking at him and instead choosing to stare at the ground.

He nods, he looks serious.

“But, you said heroes are people that help others out right? Like stop crime or just be there to comfort someone?” He asks, you look at him from the side and notice how bright his eyes are.

“You came all the way here to a world you’re not familiar with. You didn’t just save two first years from getting expelled, but you also stopped multiple overblots from going worse. You saved people’s lives y/n, I think that’s more than enough to be a hero.”

He pulled your heartstrings, causing some tears to prickle the corners of your eyes. “No, it’s not that easy Kalim, it’s not just make believe-!”

He stopped you by hugging you all of a sudden. It was a soft yet squeezing one, a very loving one at that

“You said magic’s make believe too, but here you are standing in a magic school where we fly on carpets and broomsticks. I think you’re a real hero, and that’s that. You know what?” He suddenly stands up, letting go of you. He looks out at the balcony you guys were at and inhales deeply

“Y/N IS THE BEST HERO!! WOOHOO!!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a laughter that was filled with happiness and one that you forgot you could muster up after all those years of bullying and neglect. Kalim’s enthusiasm was rubbing off on you.

“Ok ok, you can stop, thanks Kalim,” you pat him on the shoulder. He beams at you with a bright smile in return.

The two of you went carpet riding later, and you couldn’t help but remember when you were little and you admired how heroes like Hawks could fly. You thought you would never do it, but here you were, with someone that made you feel like a hero you dreamed of becoming. Maybe magical moments could exist in your life too.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst scenarios #twst x reader #anon ask #bnha #boku no hero academia #twst kalim #twst kalim al asim #twst kalim x reader #kalim headcanons

[alfvaen]

Novel Madness

Still reading, and apparently still blogging about it.

So this is what I read in March. Possible spoilers for the Vorkosigan Saga, and the Mercy Thompson and Peter Grant series, among others.

Jeffrey Cranor & Janina Matthewson: You Feel It Just Below The Ribs, completed March 2

So as you may recall, back in February, I had given up on Ruth Ozeki's A Tale From The Time Being, wasn't fond of Kristen Painter's Flesh And Blood, and was also not really liking the nonfiction book on Reddit I was reading.

I was somewhat tempted to just skip ahead to my reread of Memory, my favourite book in the Vorkosigan series. I mean, when I had started doing more frequent rereads, it had been after just such a string of subpar books, and I wanted to retrench and remind myself why I loved reading. Looking back in my records, I can't actually find that string of subpar books, but I can find about when I started doing the rereads--the fall of 2007, when I started doing a Wheel of Time reread, where every second book was a reread; it was the first time I reread the entire series (up to that point, which was Knife of Dreams). After that, my rereads went back to their more sporadic pace, until the spring of 2008 when I did an every-second-book reread of the Vorkosigan saga (the first of three such rereads in the next few years). And I kept doing every-second-book-a-reread for two years, at which point I slowed down to mostly every third book. By 2012 this was down to every fourth book, and there it seemed to stabilize. So it wouldn't be unprecedented for me to do my rereads more frequently, but the cycle has been stable for a while--I added in the alternation of author gender, the diversity slot, the trying-out slot…it would throw my cycle off now if I did the rereads more frequently. But don't think I wasn't tempted.

Anyway… I was looking for a male author, something that wasn't urban fantasy (because of the Kristen Painter), probably something that wasn't space opera (because Memory was still coming up)… I toyed with the idea of selecting something that might be "fun" (like John Scalzi's Agent To The Stars or the Doctor Who And The Krikkitmen book), but there were also books that I had been thinking "maybe" on for some time and hadn't yet picked up. And You Feel It Just Below The Ribs was one of them.

Many of you are likely familiar with Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor's "Welcome To Night Vale" podcast, which I discovered relatively early (by current standards--maybe around the "Sandstorm" episodes?). I've see the show a couple of times when it came through (or near) Edmonton, I try to keep up on the podcast (though mostly I fail because I can't keep up with a bimonthly podcast schedule any more), and I have read all of the tie-in novels and the script books. The novels are decent, not great, but okay. And I have also tried out a lot of the other related podcasts--"Alice Isn't Dead" and "Within The Wires" are the ones I stuck with.

"Within The Wires" was always weird, and not every season was great, but it was an interesting combination of two conceits--one, that every season was done through "found audio", which included relaxation tapes with hidden messages, dictaphone recordings, answering machine messages, and museum audio guide recordings, among others. And two, that this all took place in an alternate history where, due to an early-20th-century upheaval called The Reckoning, the new regime had taken the drastic step of abolishing the family: breaking the emotional links between parent and child by altering their memories and raising the children in communal creches. (There's also a distinct shortage of male characters in the podcast, which is fine--at some point I'd even thought that men had been wiped out entirely, but there are occasional male characters mentioned now and then. And the new season features a male voice actor for the first time.) But we've never really gotten much detail about the Reckoning, because it was too far in the past, and nobody needed to talk about it much because it was just part of their common world. (Maybe in the season where we were following a woman who was part of a secret rebel group that did raise their own children, but even then we didn't get much.) So I was very interested in the novel that they came out with, in hopes that we would find out more about what the Reckoning actually was and how the change in society came about.

It's a bit of an odd novel--it has a sort of framing story of it being a found document, and has frequent footnotes. But I'm not clear why it was done like this. The document is the memoirs of a woman who was orphaned during the Reckoning--which seems here to have been a worst-case version of World War I that lasted until 1941 and did literally engulf the entire world, possibly with a worse flu pandemic as well. (This was published during Covid so that may have affected things a little.) The author, Miriam Gregory, ended up being influential to the whole post-Reckoning New Society practice of editing memories to remove parent-child bonds. She later got involved with the mysterious Institute from the first season, and there were some hints of the plot from the third (the political thriller told through dictaphone recordings). The footnotes mostly seem to be there to try to point out places where the editors of the document found stuff they were pretty sure was inaccurate. They quoted information from the official record and mentioned when there was no evidence of something existing or having happened at all. Which, okay, maybe this was people parroting the official history even with all its inaccuracies, as a method of showing how the truth had been hidden. But supposedly the publication of this document was being done by a group which was already not following the New Society party line, so why would they be so certain that this was wrong whenever it contradicted the accepted source of truth? It's not clear, and so it seems like they're just there to undermine the story whenever it gets too dramatic. It doesn't feel like an effective technique.

Overall it was a decent book, but flawed, and I felt like it could have covered more of the world than it did.

Lois McMaster Bujold: Memory, completed March 5

I have probably mentioned before that Memory is my flat-out favourite Bujold book. It's not an easy one to recommend to other people, though, because it may only work (and certainly works much better) if you've read all the previous books first. Jo Walton has talked about the "spearpoint theory", where a tiny sharp point can be made much more effective if you've had a lot of buildup to it. This book has a shaft consisting of all the Miles books and stories that came before. Obviously Mirror Dance, of course, the immediate prequel, but it has an especially poignant revisiting of "The Mountains of Mourning", as well as the reappearance of Duv Galeni from Brothers In Arms, and robust roles for Emperor Gregor Vorbarra, Delia Koudelka, Ivan Vorpatril, and Simon Illyan, who is central to the plot. It also has one of the dullest titles in the series, though it is relevant, not least because of the reference to Simon Illyan's eidetic memory chip.

The first part is the most painful, as Miles manages to lose most of what's important to himself through an attempt to keep it from slipping away. But I love almost every scene that takes place on Barrayar. It's such a treat just to see Miles coping with day-to-day life there (my favourite bit is still the convenience-store "Reddi-Meals!"), plunged back into a life he's been neglecting for years, that it doesn't even feel disappointing when it's over a third of a way into the book before the "real" plot really gets going. Because the shaft of that spear is still building up.

In later rereads, there are some bits I find fascinating. Like the worldbuilding details about the existence of Imperial Auditors, special investigators answerable only to the Emperor himself, that actually were never mentioned before in the series. But the way the native Barrayarans explain it to one Komarran feels completely organic, and they've known it all along, so surely these Auditors have been mentioned before? Nope, they're probably something that the author pulled out of her hat for this book (there were "auditors" mentioned in the framing story of Borders of Infinity, but I think they were just regular auditors, not Imperial ones). But if feels like they've always been in the background. (Maybe, if they were, they should have been mentioned in Barrayar somewhere? Well, whatever. Good enough.) Also, there was one relationship that blindsided me first time through, but now I can spot all the groundwork being laid for it all the way through. Very deft.

Steven Barnes: Zulu Heart, completed March 12

Next, according to my cycle, it was time for a book by a "diverse" male author. As I may have mentioned before, I seem to be much shorter on those than I am on female diversity, particularly on the black authors.

I first read Steven Barnes many years ago, at least in collaboration. His book with Larry Niven, Dream Park, has long been a favourite; I recall one day, after a stressful move between cities, that I spent just rereading the book from cover to cover. The sequels never hit quite the same spot, though, which may be why, although I did occasionally buy a Barnes solo book in a second-hand store, I had never actually gotten around to reading any of them. But they were there when I needed to draw from them for this slot. A couple of years ago I read his Lion's Blood, an alternate history novel about a world where African (and mostly Muslim) nations colonized the New World (which I believe they called Bilalistan), and they enslaved Europeans. (I don't recall if there was an in-universe explanation for the change in dominance--maybe the ever-popular Hyper-Virulent Black Death--or if it just turned out that way. There was something about Alexander The Great maybe going to Egypt…) One of the main characters was an Irish man named Aidan who was enslaved as a child near the beginning of the book, and separated from his sister; the other one was a black Muslim named Kai, son of a Wakil in Bilalistan. It probably covers a lot of slave-story tropes, but race-swapped, plus there's also drama an intrigue centered around Kai's family. It was an okay book, but I wasn't particularly planning on searching out the sequel; however, last summer at the When Words Collide convention in Calgary, I saw it on a table of "free to a good home" books, and decided to pick it up. And having basically exhausted pretty much all the other possibilities, I was perforce reading it next.

Once of the principles I mostly stick to with the diversity books is that I don't give up on them. (Maybe I should have done this with the Ruth Ozeki book last month, but I guess I didn't.) It's supposed to be about broadening my horizons, approaching different kinds of stories, etc. I've always been a little hit-or-miss with alternate histories; my perception, at least, is that a lot of them tend to focus on the same things--the American Civil War, the American Revolutionary War, World War II--all American stuff. This one is, at least, a little more creative, and is very black culture focused in a way that, frankly, Barnes's other books I read really weren't.

Plotwise, though, it's only okay; some threads are interesting, some I'm less interested in, and some seem to be a little rushed, as if he was trying to squeeze in plots from a third book the publisher had nixed. The back cover blurb seems to imply that the book is going to cover this world's version of the Civil War, but given that they're still colonies of overseas nations (Egypt and Abyssinia) it's really more like a Revolutionary War. And, spoilers, what there is of it is not a major part of the story. In that sense it's almost more like Diana Gabaldon's later books where the (American) Revolutionary War is going on, and it affects our characters, but it's not primarily about the war itself. And maybe this book would have benefited from being even longer to have that increased scope.

I do worry a bit about the reversed slavery idea--on the one hand, maybe it'll give some of us white people a better feeling for what the Africans suffered under slavery if we replace them with Europeans. The concepts that stuck with me were things like having white slaves given Arabic or African names rather than names from their own culture, and also all the African cultures being treated as distinct things while all the European cultures get jumbled together. But I also picture some people pointing at this and saying, "See? They'd do just the same as us if they were in charge!" Which may be true, but of course it doesn't say that, in our world, the slaves in America didn't suffer, and we're not living in that alternate world. It means that one group may not be inherently nobler than another, but that doesn't mean that they're not deserving of justice, or equity, or reparations. (I can also picture frothing white supremacists screaming that this the what the blacks want, and turning it into a story of white victimhood. Well, I guess we can't control what white supremacists are going to froth about.) It's not a bad thing, but it seems like it can be mischaracterized. (One novel I was working on, I have a setting with an area's native inhabitants being oppressed by intrusive colonials, and I was toying with the idea of having the natives be white, but I'm afraid it'd get read as anti-immigrant rather than anti-colonial, so I probably won't.)

Natalie Zina Walschots: Hench, completed March 16

After the long and somewhat topically heavy slavery book, I decided I was in the mood for something maybe a little lighter, and it was time to get back to a female author. My wife had recommended this Hench book to me, and nudged me about it a couple of times, and I decided to give it a go. I know that technically I do have my special slots for new authors (with the "try but feel free to give up if it does not spark joy" parameters), but if I never tried a new author outside of those slots, then it would take forever me to try all the ones I'm interested in, so I decided to let myself read this one.

The book is clearly set in a world with superheroes, and of course supervillains. I've read a lot of comics--mainly Marvel comics from the 60s through to the 90s (my attempt at a comprehensive read-through on Marvel Unlimited has just inched its way to the end of 1993, so I may be a little behind on the current state of the superhero genre, apart from the MCU stuff) but fewer actual prose novels. I suspect that the modern superhero novel, with its narrower focus, is more prone to examining superheroes in more depth, and frankly most of them tend to come out on the anti-superhero side of things, and at the very least turns them into more complex, flawed characters. The Annihilation Score tended to treat them as problematic; Brandon Sanderson's "Reckoners" series treats them as existential threats (admittedly, in that setting their powers literally drive them insane); and at best, they are severely flawed people who just happen to have powers, as in James Alan Gardner's "Sparks Vs. The Dark" series. Maybe it's a generational thing--in an age where the status quo is far from kind to the vast majority of those who are Millennials or younger, who are your sympathies with--heroes who fight to uphold the status quo, or the villains who subvert it? (Which is not too far off from the logic from that gets people to vote for Trump…)

Hench shows us mostly the villain side of the story, with superheroes mostly shown as overpowered thugs and walking disasters. We're mostly concerned with Supercollider, an example of the former, whose every brush with our protagonist leaves her damaged, and his longtime nemesis Leviathan, who lifts her up and makes her feel valued. I keep wanting to draw analogues with the heroes I'm familiar with--is Supercollider basically Superman? Leviathan seems more like Doctor Doom than anybody. Supercollider's partner Quantum Entanglement (a bit of an awkward name) seems more like a combination of Invisible Woman and Shadowcat than anything else. (I'm always low-key amused at superhero naming where they just silently have to avoid the names of real Marvel or DC characters, without seeming to. In my superhero stories I mostly tend to think that the real heroes are afraid of getting sued by the corporate juggernauts who own the trademarks on the fictional ones…) It got a lot darker than I was expecting, actually, but it was absorbing and I liked it a lot.

Patricia Briggs: Silver Borne, completed March 19

I had originally been thinking of something like Ann Leckie's The Raven Tower for my next book, but after Hench I wasn't feeling like it; instead I thought it might be time for another urban fantasy. I have started so many, and finished (or even caught up with) so few--the Dresden Files, for sure, and the Kelly Meding might be the only one. I find a lot of them appealing in the abstract, but it seems like they appeal to my wife more, so she's the one who reads then, gets hooked on the series, stays caught up, buys them in hardcover, etc. She has always been more of a fan of romance, and a lot of the female-authored urban fantasy seems like it's on a spectrum to paranormal romance. (The main difference, of course, is probably whether there's a single continuing protagonist, or a different romantic pairing every book.) Anyway, I'm in the middle of a lot of series, and it seems to take a lot to get me to the state where I get hooked and have to start reading them faster, so it can be years between books for me.

Patricia Briggs has, like many, split off a side series--her main series follows Mercedes "Mercy" Thompson, but there's also a "Charles & Anna" series which crosses over, and after the last Mercy Thompson book (Bone Crossed) left me a little underwhelmed, I had started those books, so the last Briggs I read was actually side series novel Cry Wolf. Apparently reading them in alternation is not a bad idea anyway, so I went back to Mercy for this one. I even remembered most of the characters, or at least was satisfied with the author's descriptions of them (a lot of minor werewolf pack members showed up, and I couldn't tell you for sure which ones we'd seen before or had character traits before this book).

The pacing was a little weird--there's basically three plot threads which show up at different times, which aren't really connected causally but do interact with each other, and the balance doesn't always work (like pack politics dominating everything else for a few chapters until we get back to our other plots), but it was better than Bone Crossed, at least. It's unfortunate, given how much urban fantasy I read, how little I enjoy the dominance politics of werewolf packs, and particularly the touchiness of Alphas. (Oh, no, we can't meet their gaze or undermine their authority or it's a challenge and they'll have to kill us. And they can't show any weakness or others will try to kill them.)

Next book in the series will be back to Charles & Anna, anyway. I am not yet really hooked on the series, but I'll keep going for now.

Lois McMaster Bujold: Komarr, completed March 22

Back to the Vorkosigans again, for Komarr. Like her other planet-named books, it takes place entirely on the planet in question (if we allow space stations in the same system to be close enough, anyway), the troubled vassal of Barrayar. Because the only current access to Barrayar comes through a wormhole in the Komarr system, and the earlier Cetagandan invasion of the planet was abetted by the Komarrans, Barrayar ended up conquering Komarr to secure its interface to the rest of the world. (I always wondered if it was only upon conquest of a second planet that Barrayar became a true empire, but I think they had emperors before that so probably not.) They've tried to be benevolent rulers since then, but we already saw in Brothers In Arms that there are those, like Ser Galen, that want to get rid of the Barrayaran yoke. And Aral Vorkosigan acquired the sobriquet of "The Butcher of Komarr" when a group of prisoners in his custody were executed--supposedly on his orders, but in fact it was an overzealous subordinate who Aral later killed.

Miles comes along to investigate a bizarre act of destruction--accident or sabotage, we don't yet know--where the "soletta array", a group of orbiting mirrors reflecting additional sunlight onto the cold, still-being-terraformed world (the world's population still lives in domed cities), has been damaged through collision with an off-course ship. He's mostly just shadowing older Lord Auditor Vorthys, the engineering professor who's analyzing the debris, and they end up staying over with Vorthys's niece Ekaterin Vorsoisson, who is our other viewpoint character in the book. Ekaterin has a highly unsympathetic husband, Tien, who has a secret shame, a hidden genetic disease called Vorzohn's Dystrophy. He also happens to be in charge of a small department of the terraforming effort.

I guess my biggest problem with this book is just that Tien and his department turn out to be directly related to the soletta disaster. I mean, think of it--the disaster happens, and an auditor is sent to investigate it. If it hadn't happened to be someone connected to Tien, the investigation might have gone nowhere, or taken a lot longer, because they wouldn't have had that extremely gratuitous link. It bugs me every time.

So the best part of the book is probably the introduction of Ekaterin, and her growth as a character through to the end of the book, where she strikes a decisive blow. And without it, we wouldn't have A Civil Campaign (or would, at least, have a much different book). But it is a dip in what would otherwise be a five-star run from Mirror Dance.

Shaun Barger: Mage Against The Machine, completed March 27

Catchy title, eh? That's probably part of why I picked it up in the first place, though I don't remember for sure. This is in my actual "trying a new author" slot, generally with permission to give up if the book doesn't grab me.

Essentially, it seems that the world ended at some point (2020?) when the machines/AIs rose up against the humans. The mages, who had been living in secret veiled communities for centuries, were hidden and thus not affected by this, though they're pretty sure that the humans were all wiped out. At least, that's what Nikolai, a young magically-talented officer (with a traumatic past) in the year 2120, has always been told.

Meanwhile, outside the veil, a young human cybernetically-enhanced woman named Jem, who remembers the machine uprising ten years earlier (she has her own tramatic past), and who mostly escaped because they were on the way to a colony on Venus at the time, is working as a courier, escorting a rare pregnant woman (unaffected by the fertility plagues the machines spread) through the fringes of Philadelphia.

The two stories go back and forth for several chapters in what seems like an attempt to sow confusion in the reader about the inconsistencies between the two versions of the timeline, which mostly led me to conclude that either these are literally parallel worlds, or that the mages are severely misinformed about the last century of history outside the veils. Or, presumably, most of them are misinformed but the ones at the top are all in on it and keeping the secret for their own reasons.

It seems like a bit of a hodgepodge. Part The Matrix, part Harry Potter (the mages have a sport named "flyball" that seems a lot of like Quidditch without broomsticks), part Brandon Sanderson/Brent Weeks (the flavour of the actual magic system), part Children of Men, part Wool (for the sheltered society ignorant of the world outside)… But I guess that means it's not too derivative, because of the variety of sources?

The biggest problem with it, really, is that the story clearly is not finished…but, in the five years since its release, no further books have come out. The author still seems to be actively posting on Instagram, and I found a Reddit post which said that as of two years ago the sequel was finished (and apparently there are supposed to be four books total), so I hazard a guess that the roadblocks are publishing-related. Like, his editor, Navah Wolfe, bought the first book for Saga Press, but moved on, so he might be editorially orphaned, leading to Saga passing on later books, so he'd have to be looking for a new publisher, or giving up and self-publishing (or just giving up). Always awkward--ask my wife who has two self-published sequels to the books that Scholastic published twenty-some years ago, because no other publisher would take them without rights to the first two. (Diana Rowland managed it somehow, but mostly it just doesn't work.) So I may hang on to this one and await further news (which presumably he'd post on Instagram or something…)

Ben Aaronovitch: Whispers Under Ground, completed March 31

Most of the urban fantasy series out there had female authors and female protagonists; I tend to call this the "post-Buffy" wave--before that, it felt like "urban fantasy" was more like Charles de Lint, with people in and around cities coming into contact with fairies and the like. Although stuff like Tanya Huff's "Blood Ties" series was also around back then, and that's clearly very close to what we call urban fantasy these days. Anyway. There are a few male authors as well, Jim Butcher the most famous, and Kevin Hearne, but they have a different flavour to them. And then there's Ben Aaronovitch, which is different again, being very British. Which is all just a way of saying that, while I normally try not to read too-similar books too close together, this doesn't really feel very much like the Patricia Briggs book I read a couple of weeks ago.

I'm a bit behind on this series--I read Midnight Riot (the North American retitled version of Rivers of London) some time ago, and Moon Over Soho more recently but still a while ago. But my wife was just reading the latest, Amongst Our Weapons, from the library, and apparently it's full of Monty Python references (in the chapter titles, if nothing else), and my eldest son was just reading Midnight Riot (apparently he'd heard that this series's magic system is vaguely similar to the system from the Ars Magica RPG we've been playing recently), so it felt like time to revisit it. My memory is of course a little fuzzy, but my overall impression is that this book is a little more police-procedural murder mystery than the previous two. Definitely there is a murder to solve, and there is a lot of interaction with other police (and an American FBI agent). Definitely a certain amount of underground (including sewers), as the title implies (so it's not just the London Underground). I enjoyed it and will have to try to revisit the series a little more frequently.

And that's it for the prose fiction books for March. For completeness I can also add in a graphic novel I squeezed in (literally just finished it before midnight on the 31st). See, one of the podcasts I've been listening to for a while is the "Endless" podcast, about the Sandman, cohosted by Lani Diane Rich and Alisa Kwitney. Kwitney, who was a former DC editor, particularly on Sandman itself, also apparently did a series for Ahoy Comics called "G.I.L.T.", which they were shilling on the podcast, so I thought I'd give it a try. I got my library to order what turned out to be a collection of the first five issues (I guess I'm not sure if there are more, but I wouldn't be surprised). "G.I.L.T." apparently stands for something like "Guild of Independent Lady Temporalists", though I'm not sure such a guild actually turned up… Anyway, two women, 70ish Hildy and 50ish Trista, get sent back in time to 1973, though Trista wasn't supposed to come along; they try to deal with their respective pasts, linked by a creepy cult-leader type that Hildy was engaged to and Trista's mother was a follower of. They're not supposed to be able to change anything, but they're also not supposed to both go back at once, so things get a little screwy. I wasn't 100% sold on it, but it was interesting.

And now I am actually reading The Raven Tower, but that'll be for next month's post.

#Lois McMaster Bujold #Vorkosigan #Ben Aaronovich #Patricia Briggs #Steven Barnes #Shaun Barger #Natalie Zina Walchots #Jeffrey Cranor #Janina Matthewson #Within The Wires #books #reading #Alisa Kwitney

[legends-of-time]

Thorn Bush (Doctor Who Story)

Chapter 3: The Girl Who Died

Masterlist

Life back in the century, Kathy had gotten used to so life went back to a relative normal. No one had noticed that she had left!

Kathy gave birth to a beautiful little boy, who they called Carlyle. As she stared at him in her arms, she wondered how much like her he is. She checked his pulse as soon as she was alone with him and found the beating of two hearts. It made her happy that while she'll lose this family due to their human life span, she knew, and know, she'll still have him.

When Kathy's son reached 8, her mother handed her a box that belonged to her biological father, who had gifted it to her just before he left. When seeing the box, she then remembered having seen it before but clearly, something about it had made her forget. Was it possible it was one of those perception filters or something even stronger? Anyway, she now remembered that when she was 8, her mother had given her the box. It was only when it opened did, Kathy finds a chameleon circuit or something similar and when she opened it, she was looking into a fraction of the untempered schism. It explained how Kathy gained her apparent ability to regenerate though not in the same way a Time Lord would. It also gave her son the same ability.

Barden, her husband, in case you have forgotten, does early when Carlyle is only 14 and she's '39' though she physically looks like she's still in her 20s. With the knowledge that she won't continue to age and so will Carlyle at some point, and this will become suspicious, she took the opportunity to take them away as soon as Carlyle turned 18 to protect them. This is so as not to take Carlyle away from his extended family too soon though she didn't think his not biologically related grandfather would miss him. He seemed more verbally abusive towards him than he did to her.

Kathy checked on her half siblings and their own offspring as well as her parents as they lived out their own lives to make sure they were okay. She hoped that she would be able to check in on their line in the future.

The first time Kathy needed regeneration to save herself was for the stupidest reason, one she will never tell anyone. She had been alive for a century in this world now when she's on a walk and she trips and falls down a hill. Not one of her finest moments.

Kathy and her son are not always together as he often likes to live out his own life, which means that at times she's going off on adventures on her own, sometimes it's together.

It was the beginning of the 9th century and after the invasion of the Vikings onto the English shores where she had re-lived, she decided to go off and explore Scandinavia, particularly in an attempt to find a village with a future immortal.

Kathy searched for years until she found the correct village. In the meantime, she had been darting around the different Scandinavian countries exploring and learning about the people. She had to learn the language for real. Learning Old Norse was fun and weird.

Eventually, Kathy found them in a remote part of Norway. They found her odd but because she spent time assimilating into similar cultures to theirs, they welcomed her in. Kathy intentionally grew close to Ashildr as she knew that she could help her and keep her company in the future years.

——

The fighters of the village had headed off pillaging and exploring but it was not long before they return. In the village, the horn blasts causing the residents to start clamouring, yelling and cheering.

Kathy hurries behind Ashildr to see them enter the village.

"See it's okay," Kathy says to her, she's been worried. Ashildr nods as her face breaks out into a smile.

"You're back! All of you! Are all of you back?" Ashildr asks Nollarr as she runs up to him with Kathy still following.

"I suppose so, I haven't counted." The man says.

"I'm back!" Hasten cries grabbing onto Ashildr and Kathy.

"I had a dream you'd all died. It was so real, I thought I'd made it happen." Ashildr says.

"Well, if it ever does, I'm sure you'll a find some way to blame yourself," Nollar says, chucking something into her hands. Kathy looks over her shoulder, her eyes widening.

Kathy pulls it out of Ashildr's hands as she says, "I wish none of you had to go!"

Kathy analyses it and realises, yes, it is Twelve's sonic glasses or some of it anyway. So, this means that he and Clara had finally arrived, and the episode will begin. She glances over her shoulder to see if she can spot them.

She notices them then in the middle of the crowd wearing chains and Clara in a spacesuit. The Doctor's appearance, Kathy recognises, is his casual look he took on in season 9. Him embracing his 'idiot in the box' revelation he had at the end of the season 8 finale. His hair is longer, his clothes are less formal and in the episodes of this season, he shows his sillier side more. Rediscovered who he is.

Kathy catches eyes with the Doctor, whose face breaks into a smile causing Clara to look and have a similar reaction as they go past. Well, it's good to know that he still likes her further on and Clara does as well. She feels the familiar faint pull of the mental link she shares with the Doctor.

The Doctor's smile drops as his eyes trail over to Ashildr and he stares at her in confusion.

"Who are they?" Ashildr asks Kathy as they follow the crowd further into the village. "Have you met them before Arantxa?" Kathy had decided to go by the name she was given in this life as she felt her other one would sound too odd to them.

"No, I've never met them," Kathy replies, which technically isn't a lie. She hands the broken glasses back to her.

Kathy goes over to them, catching the last of their conversation.

"We meet the boss man and we do the usual." The Doctor says.

"Which is?" Clara asks.

"Replace him."

"Sure, that's a good idea?" Kathy speaks.

"Kathy! How did you get here?" Clara exclaims with a wide smile.

"Wandering around, here and there. Got curious about Vikings. Here I am." Kathy explains with a smile excited to meet them.

"It's good to see you again." The Doctor says with a kind smile.

"Well, it's the first time I'm meeting you," Kathy speaks. Their smiles dim but they look understanding.

"Well, you can help with our plan." The Doctor says. All this while Nollarr has been talking in the background.

"How do we replace the leader?" Clara asks.

"Yes Doctor, do tell us," Kathy says with a smirk.

The Doctor gives an 'I'm not impressed look' before explaining, "To the primitive mind, advanced technology can seem like magic."

"It's going to be the yo-yo again, isn't it?" Clara says.

"Yeah. It's in my pocket somewhere." The Doctor then shows the removed handcuffs.

Clara gapes at him in shock, "How did you do that?!"

"Magic."

"Miracle, and much treasure." Nollarr continues but the Doctor then chucks the yo-yo towards the Chieftain, hitting him on the chest causing shouting and jangling, swords are drawn.

"How dare you attack our Chieftain!" Nollarr cries.

"I am very, very cross with you. I am very disappointed. I have taken human form to walk among you." Kathy covers her eyes and cringes at the Doctor's performance.

"Who are you, old man?" Nollarr asks.

"Do you not recognise the sign... of Odin?" The Doctor says as he parades around.

"You are not Odin, and that is not Odin's sign." Millard dismisses.

"Oh, and you would know that how, exactly? Have you met Odin? Do you know what Odin looks like?"

It is then that we all hear thunderclaps causing most around Kathy to whimper. Then there is the sound of a heavenly choir and a giant face appears in the sky.

"Oh, my people." The man in the sky booms. "I am Odin. And now your day of reward has finally dawned."

"Do not believe this foolish trickery!" The Doctor tries to throw his yo-yo again but it flops. "It's supposed to do that." Oh, dear.

"Your mightiest warriors will feast with me tonight in the halls of Valhalla." Suddenly some robots with massive helmets are teleported to the ground, the Mire. Those with weapons form a battle formation as they cry in confusion. They charge forward as the Doctor, Clara and Kathy hide behind them. The Mire charge with guns toward the crowd.

"Stay still. Stay very, very still." The Doctor mutters.

"That's not really Odin, is it?" Clara says in more of a statement.

"He hasn't even got a yo-yo." The Doctor replies.

"Oh yeah, that's how you know," Kathy says sarcastically.

Both sides meet in the middle.

"So, this is an invasion." Clara suspects.

"Shh. No, this is a harvest. The strongest, the fittest... The weak and young, they'll leave behind." The Doctor realises.

One Mire pushes away some members of the village to the floor before teleporting up some of the more 'fitter' members.

"Any hints?" The Doctor asks. This seems to be their thing.

"Uh... well um... Ashildr – that girl – is important." Kathy replies. He nods.

"We have to help them," Clara says.

"We have to not get chosen." The Doctor says.

"Bide our time," Kathy adds. Clara doesn't listen and rushes over to Ashildr, who's cowering. Kathy tries to grab her but she slips away so she feels she has no choice but to follow her.

"Clara. Kathy. Clara, Kathy, no!" Kathy hears the Doctor hiss.

"Have you still got the eye-patch thing?" Clara says crouching by her. Kathy tries to give Ashildr a reassuring smile.

"Clara, maybe this isn't the best way. There's nothing we can do, maybe we should wait." Kathy tries. She knows that if she follows this route then Ashildr will be living forever.

"It'll be fine." Clara holds half of the sonic glasses up to Ashildr. "Point it at my chains and think the word open. Say it with your mind." She explains. More people are beamed up.

It is then Kathy sees the Mire take notice of them. She was stupid to think they wouldn't and before she can alert the other two, they are beamed up themselves.

——

Kathy looks around and notices they are on the ship.

She hears Hasten say, "Welcome to Valhalla, my ladies." And she looks up to see the warriors surrounding them.

Kathy hears grunting and straining and she sees a door being pried open by Nollarr with an axe.

Clara turns to her. "I'm assuming it's a bad idea to go in there."

"Yep."

"No, wait! Wait!" Clara cries when seeing Nollarr step through.

"There's nothing to fear, strange maiden," Nollarr says as Kathy hears propellers whir. "We are Odin's chosen."

"Please Nollarr come back!" Kathy cries.

But it is too late and electricity seems to shoot out of the shields in the wall and zaps him and he evaporates. The others cry out in fear and horror. Then there's creaking and the wall behind them begins to move.

"The wall, it moves!" Hasten cries. The warriors try to push against it to no avail.

"Odin! Odin!" Ashildr cries.

"Use your blades, try to jam it!" Clara orders them and they listen.

"We need to try the other door as well!" Kathy yells. She pulls on Clara and Ashildr's arms towards the other door past where Nollarr had been. "Come on! Come on!"

"Quick! Pull!" Clara says as the three of them pull at the door.

"I'm trying!" Ashildr replies.

The warriors give up and begin moving into their section and Kathy hears the propellers begin to whir again.

"Quickly!" Kathy cries.

——

Kathy wakes up to see three of them are now in a different part of the ship.

"Ssh!" Clara says to Ashildr as she wakes up. There is hissing and bubbling around them. Kathy ventures forward and she sees tubes full of liquid. She cringes remembering what this means. When they all spot the helmets of the warriors, Ashildr asks the obvious question, "Why are we still alive?"

"Because of this." A voice says. They all turn to see 'Odin' there with two of the Mire. Kathy sees he holds the broken half of the sonic glasses. "Explain."

Clara pulls herself and steps forward. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you afraid."

"I have no reason to fear you."

"Except you've already analysed that and you know it's a technology from a civilisation vastly more powerful than your own. And er, you will have also noticed that... I'm wearing a space suit. So, I'm not from around here, and it's highly unlikely I will have come alone. You see, you haven't killed us because killing us would start a fight you didn't come here to have... and you're not sure you can win." Clara is acting too much like the Doctor and it is making Kathy uncomfortable.

A robot then walks past them with a tube that he hands to 'Odin'. "Ooh, hello. Time for your medication?" Clara remarks.

"Adrenaline. Testosterone... extracted from the finest warriors." He drinks and exhales. "Ah! Nec...tar."

"OK, you mash up Vikings to make warrior juice, nice," Clara says.

"They what?" Ashildr asks, sounding close to tears.

"Clara, maybe you should stop." Kathy tries but she's ignored.

"Why play God?"

"What is a god but the cattle's name for farmer? What is heaven but the gilded door of the abattoir?" 'Odin' replies.

"You're not a farmer. You're a thief, caught in the act."

"I don't understand. "Mashed up"? What are you saying?" Ashildr tries to ask again.

"It's nothing, Ashildr." Kathy attempts, trying to avoid what is to come.

"Hush!" Clara hisses at her before turning back to 'Odin'. "Go, now. Go and find Vikings on other planets. The universe is full of testosterone. Trust me, it's unbearable. We won't follow you, see? We don't need to fight."

"War is our way."

"Ask yourself, is this a war you really want?"

"Yes!" Ashildr exclaims. "You'll pay for what you have done here today. I am a Viking. Ashildr, daughter of Einarr. You have mocked our gods. Killed our warriors. And we will crush you on the field of battle."

"That's better!"

"Look what you have done Clara!" Kathy snaps. "You really shouldn't have said anything."

"We were about to leave," Clara says.

"You almost had me talking. Talk is for cowards." 'Odin' says.

"No, no, no, listen to me." Clara says but is ignored.

"I accept your challenge."

"We will crush you!" Ashildr declares.

"Oh, please. Shut up." Clara says.

"Shall we say this time tomorrow? Ten of my warriors versus the best of your village." 'Odin' offers.

"You will beg for mercy!"

Odin laughs. "I will send you back. You can inform your people of their impending destruction."

"Why are you doing this?" Clara asks.

"Why else? The joy of war! Can't you see it on my face?" He presses a button on his arm to reveal his true gruesome face.

——

Ashildr, Clara and Kathy are then teleported back to the village.

"My child!" Einarr says and Ashildr runs into his arms.

"Clara! Kathy! Clara! Kathy!" The Doctor calls as he runs over to them. He suddenly stops. "I'm not a hugger... Ahh! Let's hug!" He then grabs Clara causing her to cry out in surprise before doing the same to Kathy. Considering this is the second time she's met the Doctor and the first with this face, she feels a bit surprised when he grabs her.

"Where are the others?" Einarr asks.

"I'm sorry, Father."

"I looked them up in my two thousand year diary." The Doctor says flicking through said book not realising that they are trying to tell him about what happened.

"OK."

"Doctor..."

The Doctor continues, "They are called the Mire."

"Listen..."

"They are one of the deadliest warrior races in the entire galaxy..." Oh, she didn't remember that.

"OK."

"...but they're practical. They get what they want and go. You persuaded them to go, didn't you? I knew that you would!" The Doctor beams.

"The deadliest warrior race in the galaxy?" Clara says.

"One of them, yes. Why?"

"Cause this village just declared war on them," Kathy speaks. The Doctor's face drops.

——

Everyone who's left in the village gathers in the Meeting House to get the rundown.

"They're coming here tomorrow, ten of them, to kill everybody in the village," Clara explains.

"Ashildr, Arantxa... is this true?" Einarr asks.

"It's my fault," Ashildr says.

Kathy sighs. "No, it isn't."

Her father agrees. "Not every misfortune that befalls this village is down to you." He sits next to her. "She thinks she brings us bad luck," Einarr says to the Doctor.

"What bad luck? You haven't had any bad luck. You're fine." The Doctor mutters.

"We are about to be attacked by..." Limpy, though that's not his name, it's just what the Doctor has been calling him, says but gets interrupted.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes. With a whole day to spare! So, leave! Hop it, take off! Into the woods, split up, hide. Hang about there for a week, come back home, make puddings and babies; that's basically what you do, isn't it?"

Einarr stands. "We cannot leave this village."

"Yes, you can. Just pick a direction. Fly like a bird, run like a nose. That's probably a Viking saying, I haven't checked that." The Doctor remarks.

"No. We will fight!" Not Limpy declares.

Everyone around Kathy clamours and yells, "Aye!"

"Really? Well, I don't know if you remember, but they actually took away all your fighters. So, what are you? Farmers, fishermen, web designers." The Doctor rattles.

"Maybe not that last one," Kathy tells him, taking in the confused looks around her. The Doctor shrugs and throws swords on the floor causing them to clatter.

"We are Vikings!" Einarr cheers. They cheer.

"OK... tell me this. How many people here have actually held a sword in battle? By a show of hands? Mmm hmm. Yeah, baby." There's silence in the crowd as no one raises their hand except Clara and Kathy. The Doctor raises his hand and looks around smugly before noticing them. He frowns for a moment before shrugging.

The Doctor picks up a sword and starts pointing at the crowd as he talks. "The Mire are coming for each and every one of you. So, what you going to do? Raise crops at them?"

"If necessary." Not Limpy says.

"I think he was being sarcastic." Not Heidi murmurs to him.

"We're not cowards. We do not run. A death in battle is a death with honour." Einarr announces.

"Aye!" They all yell. A baby then begins crying.

"Do babies die with honour?" The Doctor questions. He walks away and closes his eyes. He then begins translating, ""I am afraid, Mother. Hold me, Mother... I am afraid.""

"Um... he speaks Baby," Clara tells them awkwardly. Kathy had forgotten that but that doesn't stop her from cringing with mild embarrassment.

The Doctor continues, ""Turn your face towards me, Mother, for you... you're beautiful. And I will sing for you. I am afraid... but I will sing." Babies think that laughter is singing. Did you know that? I applaud your courage, but I deplore your stupidity. And I will mourn your deaths, which will be terrifying, painful, and... without honour." The Doctor walks to the door.

Ashildr follows him. "Stay. You could help us. I know you could."

"I told you to run. That's all the help you need. And that's all the help you're getting." The Doctor says and walks off.

——

Clara and Kathy follow him outside.

"The earth is safe; humanity is not in danger. It's just one village." He speaks.

"Is it ever only "Just one village?"" Kathy remarks. She just needs to make sure he stays now that they are on the course to fight the Mire.

"Suppose I saved it... by some miracle. No TARDIS, no sonic. "Just one village" defeats the Mire. What then? Word gets around. Earth becomes a target of strategic value, and the Mire come back. And God knows what else. Ripples into tidal waves... until everybody dies."

The baby's cries can be heard when he finishes talking. Clara and Kathy walk to stand by him.

"What's it saying?" Clara asks.

"She. She's afraid. Babies sense danger. They have to." The Doctor replies.

"Tell us," Clara demands.

Kathy couldn't help but be quiet, not wanting to take away from Clara's role. Maybe it's a confidence thing.

""Mother, I hear thunder. Mother, I hear shouting. You are my world, but I hear other worlds now. Beyond the... unfolding of your smile... is there other kindness? I'm afraid. Will they be kind? The sky is crying now. Fire in the water." Fire in the water?" The baby stops crying suddenly.

Clara puts her hand on his cheek, "You just decided to stay."

The Doctor looks at Kathy in question, "The baby stopped crying." She shrugs.

——

The training began the next day and people were lined up with wooden sticks. Clara, Ashildr and Kathy stand at the side watching.

The Doctor paces in front of them. "So, when I say "Move", you move. When I say "Jump", you say "How high?" Unless it's across a gap of some kind which, of course, means you jump horizontally. Yes, what is it, Lofty?"

"Sorry, my name's not actually Lofty, it's Bro..." Not Lofty tries.

"No, it's not, it's Lofty." The Doctor dismisses. "I've got too much to think about without everybody having their own names, so it's Lofty. You're Lofty, you're Daphne, you're Noggin the Nog, ZZ Top... and you're... Heidi. So, we'll try that again. Lofty, what is it?"

"Sorry, sir, it's just... why aren't we practising with real swords?" Not Lofty asks. Kathy has taken quite a liking to these new names.

"Yes, perhaps you'd like to field this one, Limpy?" He points to the man sitting behind him.

"Because we can't be trusted with them."

"That's right, yes. You'll be given your real swords back when you can prove that you can wave them around without lopping bits off yourselves. Heidi, why are your eyes closed?"

"Sorry, sir. Just not that good with the sight of blood." Not Heidi replies.

"No... of course, you're not." The Doctor's tone is exasperated.

"Swords against those creatures. That won't work, will it?" Ashildr says to Clara and Kathy.

"He's just warming up. He hasn't got a plan yet. But he will have... and it will be spectacular." Kathy gives Clara an odd look at that. The amount of faith she has in this man. It reminds her of how reckless she is in this season, after the loss of Danny. Would she be there for that?

The Doctor whistles loudly. "Enough theory. I'm handing out the real swords." They all rush forward to grab just that. Kathy winces knowing what's coming.

——

The difference between experiencing an episode and watching it on a screen is seeing the lead up to the running and screaming, the rush to throw buckets of water onto burning buildings.

The Doctor mopes as he sits down on a box. "Well, that could have gone better."

Not Heidi groans as he wakes up from being unconscious. "Morning," Kathy says to him walking over.

"What happened?" He asks.

"The Big Bang, dinosaurs, bipeds, and a mounting sense of futility." The Doctor rattles off.

Kathy rolls her eyes at him. "Anyway... more recently, Not Chuckles hit Not Lofty over the head, on his helmet, with his sword, which knocked him out. There was a little blood, which you saw and... did that." Kathy vaguely gestures to him as he flips over once again. "But don't worry it gets better as the first time you did it, you knocked a torch onto some hay, which spooked a horse, who kicked open a gate, and er, I'm... sure you can fill in the rest."

——

Everyone is inside eating except the Doctor so Clara and Kathy join him outside. They reach him when an odd thunderclap goes off.

"Weird sounding thunder." Clara remarks.

"That's not thunder," Kathy explains. "It's the weapon forges of the Mire. They're being noisy on purpose."

"Well?" Clara questions after a moment.

"Well, Heidi faints at the mention of blood, not just the sight anymore. He's actually upgraded his phobia. Chuckles... he questions every single order you give him, which is going to be a little bit difficult, a little bit tricky, in the heat of battle." The Doctor lists.

"I keep waiting to hear what your real plan is," Clara says. "Kathy won't tell me. She says he doesn't know yet. That and spoilers."

"Yeah, drag me into this," Kathy mutters. Clara nudges her with her elbow at her comment.

"Because teaching them to fight is the only plan I've got." He replies.

"Turning them into fighters? That's not like you." Clara says. Kathy sits there uncomfortable, not really sure what to say as she doesn't know either of them well. Don't know the Doctor well enough personally to weigh on his morals.

"Yeah. I used to believe that too." The Doctor remarks.

Clara chuckles, "What happened?"

"You. Oh, Clara Oswald what have I made of you? Katherine Davis over there is all brand new." Kathy blinks in surprise when he points at her.

"It doesn't matter how well you train them; it's not going to make difference," Clara tells him.

"They'll die fighting with honour. To a Viking, that's all the difference in the world." The Doctor says.

"A good death? Is that the best they can hope for?" Clara says doubtfully.

"A good death is the best anyone can hope for unless you happen to be immortal." Kathy frowns at that comment, even after a few hundred years she wonders if immortality has really hit her yet.

Of course, Ashildr walks by at this moment. "Sorry."

"No problem," Clara says.

"Night." The Doctor calls to her.

"Night night," Kathy adds. Ashildr walks away to her home.

"You've made an impact there." Clara quips.

"Stop it."

"Well, she is nice," Kathy speaks. That's safe to say, doesn't give too much away, well done Kathy.

"Fight you for her." Clara jokes.

"The human race, you're obsessed. You all need to get a hobby." The Doctor complains.

"I've got a hobby, thanks. It's you, by the way." More like a lifestyle.

"Well, get a new one." He then moves and Kathy knows he's going to try and get her to leave.

"Not this," Clara says before he can start.

"Tomorrow it's going to be a bloodbath." He reminds her.

"Don't even ask."

"These people all died hundreds of years before you were born..." Kathy's eyes dart between the two of them.

"I'm not running."

"I have a duty of care." The Doctor tells her.

"No, you don't, because I never asked for that," Clara exclaims. Kathy really feels like she's intruding here.

"Every time we do something like this, I keep thinking, what if something happens to you? I know Kathy will be fine but..."

"Well, stop thinking about either of us and start thinking about them, because you're missing something. The plan Kathy says you don't have yet." Clara says.

"What?"

"How you're going to win. You always miss it, right up until the last minute. So put down your sword, stop playing soldier and look for it. Start winning, Doctor. It's what you're good at." Clara walks off.

"You should go to Ashildr," Kathy tells him once she's left.

"Ah, your hint. Why?" He frowns with those huge eyebrows.

"Cause she's important, you know that." Kathy then follows Clara.

She catches up with her, turns to her, and says, "Nice hair, you know."

She laughs. "Random but thanks. You told me how I had it."

"I did? How long do I have to wait for that?" Kathy asks.

"About 700 years?" She speaks.

"Oh right..."

——

The Doctor is soon yelling across the village from the boathouse for Kathy and Clara so they run over to see what is happening.

"We hear, we hear," Kathy says bursting in to find the Doctor, Not Loft and Not Lofty's baby. "You figure it out then?"

"So, he hasn't trapped his finger in something again?" Clara wonders.

Kathy laughs. "No." Einarr and Ashildr appear as well.

"Chuckles, bedtime is cancelled. Everybody, off the hard stuff. We've got a long night's work ahead of us. I need a blacksmith. Who's the blacksmith?" The Doctor rambles.

"I'm the blacksmith." Not Lofty says.

"You're the blacksmith and you've got a baby too? He's been at it hammer and tongs." The Doctor remarks.

"Doctor, Kathy, explain. What's happening?" Clara demands.

"There's going to be a war tomorrow." Kathy sees more of the village filter in. "And here's some news, this just in: We're going to win the hell out of it."

"How?"

"Ashildr, this is your village, and you will never have to leave it, I swear." The Doctor says.

"Seriously, how?" Clara asks again.

"I told you that we were basically doomed. Did no one in this two-horn town think to mention that you had... eels? Why didn't you tell me, Kathy?"

Kathy shrugs. "Cause I knew you would figure it out."

"Eels?" Clara questions.

"I give you... fire in the water!" The eels light up and the sounds of electricity zap. "Electric eels!" Baby cries. "Yes, yes! I know exactly how you feel. Well, not exactly. She needs changing."

"Plan, then?" Clara asks.

"And it is a doozy!"

——

They all move to the Blacksmith's Forge. The Doctor begins talking as everyone goes around doing their job.

"We need to pull that silvery stuff out of Clara's space suit. We can use it to magnify the electrical charge. Stop looking confused! Look happy! Winning is all about looking happier than the other guy..."

"Always walk briskly. Makes you a moving target." He gets handed a sack. "Oh, that's for Lofty. Lofty! And talk with confidence, even if you're terrified. Act as if you know their plan, and sometimes, if you're very lucky, they'll actually tell you it." He picks up a cloak. "Ah, this is for Ashildr."

They are then in the Meeting House where the Doctor finishes explaining his plan. "Then we deploy the anvil. Now, at this stage, getting me one of their helmets is key. We get a helmet, and this is over. Then we can mop up the rest using Ashildr's monstrosity."

The girl smiles and reveals what she has built.

"That is rubbish." Clara comments.

"That's the point!" Kathy replies.

——

Morning dawns and they all gather in the Meeting Hall to begin the plan. Kathy is excited and scared for what is to come.

When the Mire come through the doors, they are greeted with a party with upbeat music playing and games.

The Doctor, Clara and Kathy all slip down the middle to face 'Odin'.

"Hey, hello, hey! I'm the Doctor. It's lovely to meet you face to... convincing hologram. You could always go "bzzz" and get rid of it, no? No, on second thoughts, don't. That, that, that suits you."

"It is time to fight." Comes the reply.

"No, no, no. We decided against that. We thought we'd just have a party!" They all cheer.

"Let me put it another way. You fight or you die."

"We're unarmed. There isn't a single weapon in this room. Is there Kathy?"

"Nope," Kathy replies. "I'm sure your systems are telling you this."

"You wouldn't open fire on unarmed civilians, would you?" The Doctor says.

"It wouldn't be the first time."

A clunk echoes as Not Lofty had 'accidentally' thrown a hoop at one of the Mire's helmets. There's silence as the that was Mire hit sees a wire that is attached to the hoop dangling from the ceiling.

"Chuckles, now!" The Doctor yells. Electricity zaps from the barrels where the eels are to the wires across the room, eventually reaching four of the Mire and causing them to shake and malfunction.

"Run, run, run-run-run-run!" The Doctor orders and everyone runs to the sides of the room. "That's four down, six left."

"Go!" 'Odin' cries.

"Chuckles, switch!" There is more electricity zapping, but this time to the wires attached to the magnets. This causes the Mire to lose their weapons and helmets, revealing their horrible appearance. "Chuckles, off!" Then everything falls back down and the Doctor catches one of the helmets.

"Don't move." Clara orders having picked up one of their guns. Kathy stands next to her doing the same.

"Go!" 'Odin' orders. The Mire begins shooting.

"How's it coming?" Kathy asks the Doctor, who is fiddling with the helmet.

"Reversing the polarity of the neutron flow. I bet that means something. It sounds great. Ashildr!" The girl goes over and sits in a chair. "Are you ready?"

"I'm scared." The young girl confesses.

"You were born for this. Show them a story they'll never forget." The Doctor places the helmet on her head. Kathy watches her sadly; was what to come worth it to save a village?

The door falls down and Ashildr's construction appears through the door though Kathy knows that it looks different for the Mire.

"What is this beast? It's impossible!" 'Odin' cries in panic.

"Withdraw. Withdraw."

"Stand and fight!"

"Withdraw."

"See how they run." The Doctor mutters. Clara and Kathy share a smile.

"Withdraw." The Mire begins teleporting away.

"Cowards!" 'Odin' yells.

"Withdraw." The last of them leave.

"That's enough, Ashildr," Kathy calls to her. "Story's over. Happy ending."

"What trickery is this?" 'Odin' demands.

"Ha! Says the man with a fake face." The Doctor says. "But you see, that's the trouble with viewing reality through technology: it's all too easy to feed in a new reality. A story to save a town, and a puppet from a nightmare. You see, you've just seen the world through the eyes of a storyteller. The mighty armies of the Mire... Brutal, sadistic, undefeated. Even I believed the stories. But after today, no one will again. An army like yours, it lives or dies on its reputation... its story. And today, you were sent packing by a handful of farmers and fisherman. Not to mention the whole "wetting your pants and running away from a puppet" debacle." Everyone lets out their own chuckles.

"See, that was really funny," Clara says laughing.

"That was hilarious. It's just lucky that nobody recorded that." The Doctor.

"No, no wait, Doctor. I think we did do that." Kathy jokes.

Clara plays the recording on her phone. "See, all it needed was the Benny Hill theme."

"The Benny Hill theme, yes." The Doctor says. "Now, you see, we could just keep this as a funny little film and play it every year at the Christmas party, or... I could upload it to the galactic hub and get a second opinion. So, the question you need to ask yourself is this: Just how important is your reputation to you? Here's a little sneak preview, piped straight into your helmets, free of charge."

Benny Hill theme plays with the video.

"If you don't leave right now, I'll put it out there for all to see and no one will fear you again." The Doctor finishes.

"This humiliation will not go unpunished. We will meet again." 'Odin' teleports but it appears distorted.

"Oh, I hacked your teleporter. Sorry." The Doctor remarks.

Everyone begins cheering and hugging. Kathy lets out a shriek when she's lifted in the air by a few people.

"You did it, Ashildr. You did it. You saved us all." Einarr says running over to his daughter but he then realises something is wrong. "Ashildr... Ashildr? Ashildr!"

"Get the helmet off her." Kathy quickly orders. "Get it off, now."

Einarr takes it off and his daughter falls into his arms. "Ashildr?"

"No pulse," Clara says. "I think. Doctor, is she dead?"

"I'm sorry. I'm really terribly sorry." The Doctor murmurs. Einarr cradles his daughter in his arms as the Doctor flees the hall.

——

Kathy tells Clara to just let her follow him into the Boathouse. She cautiously walks inside, scared of his reaction.

"Why didn't you stop me?" He asks quietly. She doesn't know what's scarier, him yelling or being quiet. "You knew that when I plugged her into the machine, I was going to use her up like a battery."

"I didn't know another way to succeed," Kathy replies at the same level. "I wish I could have but I didn't know how."

"It's not your fault." The Doctor pauses then exhales. "I'm so sick of losing."

"But you didn't lose. Not completely, you saved the town." Kathy argues though she knows it is pointless.

"I don't mean the war. I'll lose any war you like. I'm sick of losing people." The Doctor says. "You haven't been through it all yet but one day- one day you'll get as tired as me. But unlike me, you've always stayed; not me. No, I do what I always do. I get in my box and I run and I run, in case all the pain ever catches up... and every place I go, it will be there."

"You did your best. She died. There's nothing you can do. But what you can do is realise what has been staring in your face ever since you got it." Kathy replies.

"I can do... anything. There's nothing I can't do. Nothing. But I'm not supposed to. Ripples, tidal waves, rules. I'm not supposed to—" He suddenly cuts himself off when it dawns on him. "Oh. Oh!" He grabs his face and runs over to one of the containers of water.

"Realising now, are you?" Kathy remarks with a smile.

"My face." He says looking at her before looking back at his reflection.

She smirks. "Yeah, your face." He gapes at her again with his hands back on his cheeks again.

"I think I know why I chose it." He whispers. "I think I know what I'm trying to say." His face then picks up. "I know where I got this face, and I know what it's for."

"Go on, tell me then," Kathy says beaming.

"To remind me. To hold me to the mark. I'm the Doctor, and I save people. And if anyone happens to be listening, and you've got any kind of a problem with that, to hell with you!" He runs out of the Boathouse back to the Meeting House with Kathy close behind. She had been working on her fitness ever since she saw him the last time, she knew there would be running.

——

They return and while they had been gone, Ashildr was moved to lay on a table covered in fur. The Doctor begins fiddling with the helmet.

"What's he doing?" Einarr asks.

"Saving her... I think." Clara replies.

"He is," Kathy confirms.

"It's from the Mire helmet." He holds out a slim square object in his hand. "Battlefield medical kit. I've reprogrammed it for human beings." He places it on Ashildr's forehead and it's absorbed by the skin.

"It's gone. It's inside her." Einarr says.

"It's repairing her. It will never stop repairing her, if it works. Come on, Ashildr. Come on. The story's not over yet." The Doctor whispers to her.

"Daughter..." Einarr tries, his voice is all watery. "Listen to me. This town has lost so much. If we lose you too... there'll be nothing left." There's nothing until she gasps awake. "Ashildr!"

Everyone gasps in relief. Ashildr stays groggy and barely conscious.

"She'll be conscious in a day, up and about in three. No swimming for a week. Now, we're going to need a longboat and some of your best rowers. We're two days' sail from the TARDIS. Come on, Clara." Clara goes over to The Doctor, who turns to leave.

Einarr stops him. "Wait, no. She'll want to see you when she wakes."

"Oh, no. Well, she'll, she'll see me often enough once she understands." Kathy knows he probably doesn't want to be there when she realises, to deal with the consequences of what he's just done.

"Understands what?"

The Doctor hands another medkit to him. "Second dose."

"Will she need to take this?" Einarr asks.

"No, no, no, it's not for her." The Doctor replies.

"Then who's it for?" Clara questions.

"Er, whoever she wants." The Doctor explains.

"Doctor... thank you." Ashildr gasps.

"Oh, don't thank me yet, Ashildr. Not yet." The Doctor and Clara leave and Kathy quickly follows after them.

"So, this is goodbye again?" Kathy says to them.

"Yes, it is." The Doctor says.

"It's nice to see you again," Clara says, she gives her a hug.

Kathy gives her a squeeze back. "And it's nice to meet you." Clara laughs at this and steps back.

The Doctor goes over to her then. "You understand why I gave the second one." Clara frowns confused but Kathy knows that the Doctor will explain to her later.

"Yes," Kathy replies. "I'll keep an eye on her."

"Yes, that's smart." The Doctor says. "Anyway, good luck till the next time."

"Till the next time."

——

A/N: Autocorrect with these Vikings' names was annoying let me tell you.

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

#doctor who

[agreenseil]

Fic Idea:

reincarnation cycle with a pair (or group, but pairs sounds easier to organize), but instead of dramatic tragedy until the Canon life, they're just being besties and picking up hobbies that carry on to the next life

for example, zosan (not in any chronological order):

rivalry on sight (obviously)

sanji learns to cook because he met zoro in an alley eating a yellow thing that definitely shouldn't be fuzzy like that

zoro's the feral bodyguard bc while pretty boi Sanji can hold his own, should he have to???

crap, I cant think of anything else. this all came from that one YT short about past lives but it wasn't fancy or dramatic cycles

they're just hanging out in a yard, harassing chickens and squirrels

sanji keeps his knives hidden away after the doctor tried to use them to "treat" zoro's dying via plague (yoinked scene from the Short)

is that dramatic? yes, but it kinda suits them lol

also example, nami and usopp:

disaster lesbian nami, disaster bi usopp

usopp talking bout a girl he met and rejected and nami asks why and lists all the good things and usopp's like, "why don't you date her then??" and nami's like "wait, I can do that?" bc historical whatevers and usopp's like, "yeah." and nami's like "okay, bet" and then usopp regrets it bc nami cant stop waxing poetic about her partners but also he doesnt regret it bc bestie happy = you happy

and then he finds a hot guy with great muscles and oh, how the turns have tabled

also art buddies

be gay, do crime. nami does the thieving thing with usopp sometimes

isnt it nice to have someone so resourceful?

Also I think Robin should be in one too but idk who with.

Mayhaps Brook. I rlly liked that one fic where Robin dreams of Brook's ship while on the run and Brook sometimes gets this kid on his ghost ship and he cant tell if he's hallucinating and they do the friendship

Robin and Brook at a fair, robin stops to listen to his street performance after they reached for the same book at one of the stands

they don't even know each others names yet but they had a nicer day after meeting each other

in the next life, Robin listens to violin and piano music while she reads, though she can never find the same jaunty tune

brook performs in all the book related events he can find, tailors his style into something fun, but chill enough not to distract you from your book

maybe in canon he visits ohara to perform accompanying music? 👀✨ and robin finds her friend sooner

franky and chopper:

franky, who makes himself into a type of monster

and chopper, who didnt want to be a monster, but learns to accept it

idk how this will work, actually, I just think they complement each other

forgive me, I know nothing about jinbei ;w; I welcome your thoughts about him

and luffy seems to be someone who would be in all of their lives, but he's so bright I think that would make a big impact in their lives

oh! what if he is always there but hinted in the background details because he's not in the pairing

and then he gets his pov scenes where it ties all those hints together and does the fluff and his crew realizes that he had always been there and ahhhh I'm very happy and definitely not going to be writing this anytime soon.

anyone who wants to adopt this idea is free to do so :] pls call me over when you do so I can read it ✨

or if it already exists and you have the link 👀

#one piece #fanfic

[ciaossu-imagines]

I definitely ran overly long on the last prompt and Tumblr's word limit cut me off! Because of this, I'm going to finish up the prompt here!

Cashew ��� Okay, I’ll openly admit Cashew’s my favourite of the phone flings! And nobody, not even the creators themselves, will ever convince me this good, bookish boy is not studying Library Sciences to become a librarian! Which is why Librarian by My Morning Jacket is the song I really associate with him.

Boss – I can’t place quite why because by all extents and purposes, his phone fling was the silliest out of all of them, but Boss seems like a really, really stressed guy. Like the kind of guy who is a workaholic and has indigestion from chronic stress but can’t let go of any of it really and can’t seem to ask for help even though it’s obvious he needs it. When I was thinking of songs for him, even though it initially doesn’t seem like it should fit, Help! by The Beatles really kept popping back into my head and that’s the one I decided to go with!

Felix – Felix is the quintessential bad boy that your parents would hate but you just can’t stay away from. Is it any wonder I chose Bad to the Bone by George Thorogood for him?

Reece – As with a lot of the others on the list, gotta pay homage to the obvious inspiration while also trying to fit the character. Couldn’t resist and definitely had to go with the upbeat, energetic, and then strangely mysterious, seductive, and almost dangerous Boom Town Suite from the Doctor Who soundtrack!

Ace – My second favourite baseball boy! This man just…yum, yum, he looks good with that bat in his hand and he’s just got this bright, welcoming demeanor! Is there any doubt I think of the good, old classic Take Me Out to the Ball Game?

Ferris – My poor, poor Ferris. This boy needs a cup of coffee, some Advil, and more than a few days off! He’s definitely stressed out, burning the candle at both ends, and so overworked. He can definitely sympathize with and deeply connects to Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5!

Poe – So, to reference a chat between Poe and Marshmallow, and because, let’s be honest, this little emo boy absolutely adores Marilyn Manson, I had to use Sweet Dreams by Marilyn Manson. Also, fun fact about the writer but this is one of the few songs where I love the cover version more than the original!

Logan – He’d hate it. This song actually, in my headcanon, makes him irrationally angry any time someone so much as hums it. He takes firefighting so seriously, after all. But I definitely think of Burning Down the House by Talking Heads every time Logan shows up on my screen!

Finn – Again, playing into obvious associations and inspirations, but it’s always Song of Storms from Zelda for the cutest Link expy! That and this is a solid song and always pretty enjoyable…nothing amazing, honestly, but solid and that’s about my thoughts on Finn. Oh, and if I remember correctly, can’t you actually make him play this song or something really similar?

Leo – The Cyborg Fights from the One Punch Man Soundtrack, of course! Aside from the obvious Genos inspiration, Leo is a cyborg…and he fights. Pretty damn explanatory, haha!

Seth – Stirling is a devil…literally. That’s what he is, he’s canonically from hell but honestly, a pretty stand up guy. Charming, slightly manipulative, not much in the way of morals, but overall still a damn good guy! I think Sympathy for the Devil from The Rolling Stones definitely sums Seth up pretty nicely (saying this without fully getting him levelled up so I might be proven wrong!)

Jaxon – Going with the very natural, obviously Australian vibes here. This is upbeat enough, has got a sense of adventure to it while still hinting at some melancholic touches so I had to go with Dabo’s Tales of Goapan for Handpan and Didgeridoo! Jaxon is an outdoorsman, an Aussie, and with the fact he’s mourning some things, I do feel this is such a great fit for him.

Drake – Okay, but Drake is at a magic school where the uniforms are very Hogwarts-esque (not to mention the school is actually named Snogwarts). He needs to practice magic, and he’s got this thing with a figure called He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Referenced? You’re damn right I can’t help but use a Harry Potter song! In this case, I thought The Dueling Club from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets soundtrack was really the right fit for Drake!

Theo – Theo’s this fun, happy, charismatic gamer boy who’s just super easy to talk to. Gaming is something he’s really into, so I associate him strongly with video game remixes, but particularly the Animal Crossing Title Screen Synthwave Remix!

Basil – Again, playing to theming here. Basil looks a lot like Sherlock Holmes and even has you solve a mystery in his chat with you. He’s a master detective, with sharp analytical skills and keen observational skills. I can’t help but fall into the trap of thinking Sherlock for him, so the song I strongly associate with him is Spark’s Sherlock Holmes!

Fabian – Ariel ain’t got nothing on Fabian! Arrogant and confident that everything under water is so much better than on land, I can’t help but sing the opening notes to Under the Sea from The Little Mermaid soundtrack.

Nico – Nico loves music, especially music you can dance to. A DJ by trade, I definitely think any song that suits him has to be something you could find him playing in the club. I can’t explain exactly why but dubstep is definitely something I associate strongly with the character so that was the direction I went in. Flux Pavilion’s Bass Cannon is the one I settled on – it’s just impossible not to move to!

Mikey – Mikey’s whole shtick is food, and I just couldn’t resist – it’s definitely Weird Al’s Eat It for me!

Alfie Alfalfa – Given the obvious inspiration for the character, the catchy, energetic beat of the song, and how much I think Alfie would love the song, I went with Driving with the Top Down from the Iron Man soundtrack!

Sascha Ton van Twilhaar – Given his princely nature and his clothing and theming, it definitely had to be something with a sort of Persian theming. It had to be slow and sensual and charming so I kind of am heavily leaning towards Babak Afshar’s Ghesseh Dou Mahi for Sascha!

Sven – It’s the Sonic the Hedgehog theme, in particular the Sonic X theme, and we all know why!

Cole – Cole is yandere to the highest degree. He’s more than a little unhinged and so fixated on Marshmallow. It’s confirmed in game he stalks Marshmallow and everyone around them and I definitely have to go with Every Breath You Take by The Police, even if it is super obvious!

#fandom prompt #tumblr word count sucks!

[nbundarin]

Acceptance (Fanfic)

Clark Kent strummed his fingers on his knee. He could count on a few of them the amount of time he had ever had a butterfly and now he could add a pinky. For Gotham, Leslie Thompkins’s apartment was a stark contrast to the gothic, brutalist and Tim Burton fever dream outside. It was a two bed, two bath, accented in Alice blue and Roux white. The decor had a modern sensibility but the paintings lining the walls and photographs spotting here and there made it homie. On Zillow it would make a great steal, if Zillow dared to list anything in Gotham. Clark had particularly smiled at a picture of Leslie, standing between a beautiful red-headed bride, in a decked-out wheelchair, lilac, laced around her spokes, and a sharp-looking groom, his Biscayne blue’s elevating his boy next door smile.

            “You made a very handsome usher,” Leslie stood between the linoleum of the kitchen and the hard wood of the living room. She was a petite woman, with silver hair, sloppily bundled on her head, and chocolate brown eyes framed in cat rimmed glasses. She could be the aunt who tells you a bawdy joke at the family Christmas party or your mom’s best friend whose advice you take even when your parents said the exact same thing

            “That was a fun night,” Clark started. 

“For the world’s greatest introvert, Bruce knows how to throw a party.” The kettle whistled for attention and Leslie called over her shoulder.

“You and Lois certainly know how to cut a rug.”

“You and Alfred were no slouches either, Doctor Thompkins.”

“Clark.”

“Sorry. Leslie.” She returned with twin mugs of tea.

“You Midwestern boys and your politeness. It’s a warm welcome from, GET OUT OF THE WAY OR ALL BLOW YOUR HEAD OFF!”

“Rush hour in Metropolis has its fair share of angry drivers too.”

“It was the Supermarket.” Leslie placed her mug on a coaster and as she handed the other to the former journalist,

“Careful it’s ho—” She remembered,

“Sorry, forgot who I was talking too.” Clark thanked her as he laced the tea in his hands. Leslie situated herself, the coffee table dividing them.

“You don’t take notes?” Clark asked.

“No. I find it too distracting.”

“I wouldn’t X-Ray them if you did.”

“Saves me from buying led lined note pads.” She winked at the farm boy.

“Just a reminder; Nothing is off the table. No emotion is unwarranted. I do have insurance, so if you want to start zapping things, please direct it at the ugly string art my cousin Dorothy got me from Tucson.” Clark spotted it, across the room.

“It must be really, interesting, being the Superheroes’ therapist.”

 Leslie laughed.

“Thinking about maybe getting my own costume. But seriously, behind the capes and the superpowers your people too.” 

“Even if you come from another planet,” she added.

“Having teenagers, I feel the same way, Usually I would go to my mom or Bruce for advice, but he said you would be a better fit.”

“You and Him became very close,” Leslie observed.

“Almost twenty years. I always hate it when people call us frenemies. Bruce is one of my best friends, he would technically be Jordan’s Godfather, if Me and Lois were the religious type. I wasn’t always thrilled with his choices, especially when he brought Dick into the fight, but the kid turned out great, as did the others.”

“I think it would be fair to say you helped keep the rosy in that boy’s cheeks. You came up with Nightwing didn’t you?” Clark chuckled at the Question.

“Yes, like you said though I just helped. But I have two boys full time and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” Clark caught the H word. Rarely would he use a damn but it felt honest.

“Once again Clark, you are no different than any parent today. Bruce has definitely not been perfect. But we’re not here to compare the Dark Knight and the Man of Steel, we’re here to talk about you.” Clark took a long sip of hot green, choosing his next words.

“I wasn’t around as much as I should have, with the boys I mean. Between the Planet, Metropolis and the literal planet. I remember missing their seventh birthday. I had to lie and tell them I had to work on a scoop out of town.”

“What were you actually doing?” Leslie asked.

“Stopping a forest fire in California. But let me tell you, the disappointment in their faces was a lot more scorching. Especially Jordan.”

“Jordon is where you’re finding the most contention?”

“Yes and No. I don’t want to minimalize Jonathan. I took him from the only home he knows, he and his girlfriend broke up and theirs a huge possibility he may never have powers. He called Smallville his Kryptonite.”

“And what did you do?”

“I pulled the typical parental platitudes. You tell yourself you’re going to be different from your folks and then you open your mouth…” Leslie nodded.

“And Jordan?”

 The former journalist sat back.

“The kid is dealing with social-anxiety, he’s developing powers and there’s no telling what he’s capable of. I feel like I’m making it worse and Jordan confirmed it, loudly.” Leslie pressed on and Clark explained to her about everything, including taking Jordan to the Fortress, how his father made the kid feel inadequate, how he was struggling with the heat vision, the strength, Jonathan’s passive aggressive resentment, not to mention puberty was in the periphery.

“Elsa’s Ice castle?” They both shared a smile.

“I sent him to his room. Standard procedure in our house.”

            “No, it’s a good way to diffuse tension. It allows you to compartmentalize and figure your next move. I assume you talked after?”

            “Yes. And it was great. I got a smile out of him, until he got mad for something else and it feels like the entire board gets erased.”

            “He’s a teenager Clark. Not excusing any rudeness, but I think it’s great you give both your boys a little grace when expressing themselves. Some parents are too quick to jump at the smalless inflection in the voice or movement in the face.”

            “My parents were good about those things to. I can lift a submarine, break the sound barrier and kick Kalibak’s backside across Metropolis but Jordan…” He trailed off.

            “Jordan doesn’t need to be saved, Clark,” Leslie finished.

            “I didn’t say that.”

            “But that was where the bus was stopping. When you speak of Jonathan it’s more typical teenager. Having to move, new school, new football team—”

            “Jordan’s powers—”

            “You keep saying that too. I have a question for you.” Clark nodded.

            “Would you have preferred that Jonathan had the powers instead of Jordan?” she caught his hesitation, but waited.

            “I don’t have a favorite Leslie.” It came out more forced then intended but the therapists resolve did not waver.

            “That’s not what I asked Clark. I’ll rephrase, would it have been better If Jonathan had the powers.” Leslie hit a nerve, no small feat. He wouldn’t look into her eyes, just staring down at the tea bag at the bottom of his mug.

            “Jonathan, he has his flaws and like I said I have my short comings with him but, I get him. That sounds horrible. “

            “No, it doesn’t Clark. It sounds honest. Keep going.”

            “I suck at articulating myself.”

            “You’re doing fine. We’ll get every piece in the puzzle in its place.”

            “When I told them my secret, Jordon accused me of wanting John to have the powers instead of him. I take responsibility for not considering, it was just the hurt in his eyes, the hurt in both their eyes. Honestly, I was hoping neither of them would have them. These abilities come with a price. I’ve lost a lot along the way. You have enough on your plate in life without putting on a costume.”

            “Clark, I can tell you for a fact you don’t have a favorite. You just have a different relationship, no more no less, just different,” Leslie sipped.

“It’s not like Jordan and I have nothing in common. We have the same sense of humor, we share the same favorite flavor of ice cream, both love Stephen King novels, I can go on but the older he got the more separated we got and now we share this huge thing.” Clark paused for a moment. Lesley waited with a saint’s patience. 

            “I’m not worried Jordan is going to level a town or become a supervillain. Lois has always been his anker when it came to his mental health. She was able to quell every tantrum and talk him through every anxiety attack, I was lucky if I could make it to one of his therapy sessions. His brother even has a better grasp of what’s going on.”

            “I’m sure your, well maybe training is not the best word, but coaching him with these abilities?”

            “Yes of course, and it’s helped us get closer actually, it’s just…”

            “The unpredictability. I’ll repeat Clark, he’s a teenager. They are figuring things as they go along, they aren’t in the eye of the storm, they are the storm, social anxiety, super powers or not. You are capable of such great feats Clark. You can stop a building from burning with your freeze breath and weld the beams of broken bridges with your fire eyes…” Clark nodded while cracking a smile.

            “But Jordan is not a burning building, or a broken bridge, not even a cat in a tree. He’s a young man like you once were figuring out his place in the world and good fortune to him has a more developed support system.” Clarks’ brow lifted.

            “Don’t get me wrong, your parents were the gold standard. They took a baby and not just any baby, one that fell from the sky and raised him with unconditional love and helped him develop his gifts when they didn’t know what the heck they were doing and when you became a man, they supported you becoming a hero. Your mother made you your first costume. You won a lottery anyone would dream to cash in.” the farm boy shelved his brow, taking in this information as easy as his cup of tea.

            “From what you’ve told me, the boys are acclimating to small town life. Jonathan has made new friends and met a new girl and Jordon is coming out of his shell and through his abilities as well. You teaching him it’s actually bringing you two closer together, not further apart. You told me your powers are driven by emotion, that’s something you can relate to with Jordan, that’s your way in and you both can bounce off each other.”  Clark was about to respond—

            “But what if—”

            “Nope. What if Jordan zapped someone on the field? What if Jonathan blew up in that trailer? What ifs are bread and butter to intrusive thoughts and I sympathize with you having them, we all do. My understanding Clark is that a lot of these insecurities you have stem from Kara and not to be to blunt, Loise’s miscarriage.” That caught the Man of Steel off guard but remembered that Lois did talk to Leslie years ago.

            “I feel like I abandoned her.”

            “You were a young man in his early twenties, finding his place in the world. Not to mention introducing yourself to that world as Superman. No one could expect you to take care of a ten-year-old girl. You gave her to a family that helped her thrive and she has become a remarkable young woman and hero in her own right, regardless of sharing the same crest as her cousin and it wasn’t as if you flew away from her life, you still visited and kept in touch.”

            “And Lois?”

            “You both went through something that many have gone through. It is horrible and immeasurable painful and though you both may never heal completely from such a loss, you and Lois have been fantastic parents to those boys despite the fact you are not going to always get it right.” This was a lot for Clark to process and he could see the session would soon be up on the clock.

            “I know I’ve given you the cliff notes version and this has been a lot for a preliminary consultation, but I promise you if you come see me Clark, with an absolute understanding that you have two lives to juggle, I will help you navigate both sides to the best of my ability.”

            “I would really like that Leslie, I’ve never been this open with someone, except for Lois and I keep having these feelings of inadequacy.”

            “Clark honey. What you need to learn is acceptance. You see, you’re trying to solve everything with Superman, instead of Clark Kent, the husband and father. You have a secret identity for a reason. Jordon is going to be working with his anxiety for the rest of his life, it isn’t going to go away. You can’t protect him from it, like you protect a civilian from criminals. Same goes for Jonathan.” He nods.

            “You think you’re so alone Clark, another thing you and Jordon have in common. The truth is you are going through what so many men, parents, all together human beings have gone through. Trust me, I worked in Arkham. I have had sessions with nuisances like Condiment King all the way down the abyss with that evil fucking clown. I have seen hell in human and it wears a tacky purple suit. You have seen the embodiment of greed and xenophobia and you’ve come out on the other side a better person, but you have to accept that you can’t be invincible all the time and put away the cape when you need to.” Clark wiped his eyes as the clock chimed.

            “Now that I’ve talked your ear off. We will schedule are next session during the week and we will continue discussing all of this as much as we need to.” They both stood.

            “Thank you, Leslie.” Clark hugged the tiny woman and she hugged just as tight.

                                                                        The End

#superman and lois #dc comics #tyler hoechlin #paula pell #fanfiction #fanfics #therapy #humor #fluff #whump #supergirl #arrowverse #time jump arc #meshed superman and Lois and Arrowverse #fandom #wrote this before season 2 came out.

[mellowswriting]

I saw that requests are open! would it be possible for you to write a follow up to Second Chances with javi and reader? Maybe you have another kid and this time javi is able to be there for you throughout the whole pregnancy, and get to experience the first kick, you giving birth, etc (I am a sucker for domestic!javi if you can't tell haha) I think it would be really cute!!

From the Beginning

pairing || Javier Peña x afab!Reader

summary || Javier gets to experience the chaotic excitement of welcoming a new baby to the family.

word count || 6,466 

warnings || kid fic, pregnant reader, non-graphic childbirth, some spiciness but no smut, dad!Javi being adorable 

a/n || I can’t even express how much I love writing about the boys as dads, especially Javier! I really hope you all enjoy this, it was so very much fun to write.

Main Masterlist  |   Join the taglist!

Early spring mornings always had a special quality about them. The air was never too hot, pleasantly warm with a hint of a cool breeze that still lingered from winter’s sharp grip. Plants were beginning to bloom, the trees regaining their bright green foliage that ruffled in a symphony with every pass of the wind. Spring was the bringer of warmth after the ice and snow, the nurturer that coaxed seeds to sprout and flourish, the guide for new life and hope.

Ironic, then, that those very qualities you had grown to love were the ones causing you so much inner turmoil that you couldn’t even enjoy the gorgeous morning happening around you. You hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. Mother nature hadn’t exactly gifted you with a cycle that could be easily followed and predicted. Instead you had the supreme pleasure of having to carry around menstrual products everywhere you went and having to replace your underwear far more often than usual. So when you went two months without the waves of cramps and frustration of your period, it wasn’t all that remarkable.

It was when you were doing some last minute grocery shopping the night before that you realized something was off. Well, more off than usual. The sight of the shelves of tampons made your stomach bottom out with realization. You must’ve made quite a sight as you stood in that aisle with a cart half full of food, just staring at tampons with dread. Two boxes of pregnancy tests got tossed in with the various other items in your cart and you hoped that Javier was too tired from work to insist he help you put away the groceries.

For once, the universe appeared to be on your side. Your husband was sitting on the floor with Elianna, a spread of coloring books and crayons scattered on the living room carpet, and he actually listened to you when you waved him off to carry the bags in yourself. The tests were tucked away in the bathroom behind your tampons - ironic, yes, but it was the one place Javier really wouldn’t be poking around.

Honestly, a part of you felt bad for not telling Javier right away. He had more than proven himself as a great father and husband in the nearly two years since he returned to your life. Those irrational little fears of him leaving you and little Ellie had been crushed into nothing in the wake of the role he readily took on with his daughter, but this was different. Maybe it was pretty naive of you to not have that conversation with him, but it was something you thought you still had time for.

The plus sign on the pregnancy tests told you the time for that conversation was now, apparently. You were grateful for the timing of your little realization. Saturday mornings saw the standing trend of your sister whisking Ellie away for some ‘auntie and niece time’, and you really didn’t want her to feel the tension you were carrying. She was such a perceptive little girl that had an eye for everything.

Javier was still asleep. You usually slept in with him on the weekends, but you were restless to find out if your period was just pulling a fast one on you or if you actually were pregnant. Now you had four positive tests sitting in front of you and a sleeping husband who you couldn’t decide whether or not to wake up. Luckily, you ended up not having to make that choice since two sharp raps of his knuckles against the bathroom door snapped you out of your trance.

The door opened a millisecond after you snatched up the tests and hid them behind your back, not so unlike Ellie when she was hiding a treat she wasn’t supposed to have yet. The difference was that you didn’t know if this would be a treat to Javier. He was still half asleep, his thin pajama pants slug low on his hips and his eyes squinted against the bathroom light.

“G’morning,” He grunted as he moved to shuffle past you. “Move over, I gotta piss.”

You were rooted to the spot, though, your brain floundering to gain control of your muscles. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Javier slowly perked up through his sleepy haze at the realization that you looked downright terrified. He put his hand on your bicep and squeezed slightly. “Is Ellie okay?”

“What? No, yeah, Ellie’s fine. She’s with Amelia.” You spluttered, cringing at your inability to function.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Javi pressed. There really wasn’t any hiding things from him. Ellie must get that sharp eye of hers from her father. “What are you holding behind your back?”

You tried to swallow down the thickness that enveloped your throat to form some sort of words, literally anything to convey to him what the hell was going on, but your body was seized with fear. So you held out the tests wordlessly. His eyebrows furrowed as he took the bundle of tests from your hand, staring at them with a split second’s confusion before it dawned on him. “This…? You…?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. The worry in your voice must’ve been obvious because Javier was on you in a second flat, his arms crowding you into his chest with a crushing strength.

“You’re pregnant?” Javier croaked into your neck and the dam of emotion in your chest crumbled. His voice was full of excited disbelief, and relief crashed over you.

“Yeah, I am.” You said with a tearful chuckle, winding your arms around him to burrow yourself even further into his chest. “I know we never really talked about having another kid but… is this something you want, Javi?”

“Fuck, this is ironic.” Javier laughed quietly and when you looked up at him, he avoided your eyes with an almost bashful look. “I was gonna ask you today if you ever thought about it. Do you have any idea how many times I went over it in my head?”

You couldn’t help it - you cracked up laughing. The whole thing was almost ridiculous - the both of you worrying despite wanting the exact same thing. Tears of relief and laughter soaked into his t-shirt as you both broke into chaotic laughter, fingers clutching at each other’s shirts as you tried to catch your breath.

“So, uh… are we doing this?” Javier sounded nervous, his hands rubbing up and down your back as if to reassure himself. “You really wanna have a baby with me? Again?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was choked with a tense mix of emotions, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t believe you - you’d… thank you.” He babbled, nearly unintelligible in his scramble to convey how fucking grateful he was, but you knew. It wasn’t the first time you had heard the desperate need to spit words he couldn’t really find, the words that matched the swell of emotions in his chest that still wasn’t used to voicing. “Fuck, Ellie’s gonna be such a good big sister.”

That choked you up more than you expected. She really would be, you knew that for a fact, but it was a dream you had boxed up and shoved on a shelf with all your other unrealistic dreams for your future. Never in your life did you let yourself really think you could have the whole package deal - the loving (albeit gruff) husband, the big house, the sound of little feet chasing each other through the halls…

“Wait, how long have you been…? Or do we have to see a doctor first? Oh shit, we have to find a doctor for you, what the fuck are they called..? A fucking... obstetrician!” Javi rambled in a mix of nerves and excitement, breaking from your embrace to pace the length of the bathroom. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help, because -”

“Javi, breathe!” You calmed him with both hands out to stop his walking and braced your hands on his shoulders to rub at him firmly. “We have plenty of time, okay? Let me go make some coffee for you and we can sit down and make a plan. First, didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh… yeah.”

----------

Javier couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It was a subconscious thing, something he stopped the moment he realized but soon found it moving of its own volition all over again. He really was trying not to let his nerves show even though he knew that you could tell. It was all so new to him, which wouldn’t be a problem if the reminder didn’t gut him every goddamn time. He couldn’t imagine how alone you must have felt the first time around when you were pregnant with Elianna, especially in these cold, sterile doctors offices.

His grip tightened on your hand. The feeling of your fingertips pressed against the top of his hand kept him grounded, helped him remind himself that there was no going back and changing everything else that happened. All he could do was be there this time around, be the best version of himself that he could be for you and his kid - well, kids now. Plural. The excitement was almost enough to drown away the guilt. Javi really could barely believe that he was getting the privilege of experiencing this with you.

“I’ve seen files on drug lords shorter than all that.” Javier nodded at the pile of forms and paperwork you held in your lap and you laughed brightly. He preened a little at the sound. It was something he could never get enough of, that laugh of yours. “I love you.”

You looked up at him, the pen in your hand stopping its constant scratching for the first time in forever, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no way he wasn’t going to kiss you after that adorable little display. Your cheek felt soft against his palm and the little sigh of relief you huffed against him was addictive. Just knowing that he was an anchor for you made Javier feel so incredibly loved and important and all he wanted to do was imbue you with that same sense of security. He held you close, his hand slipping back to the back of your neck to keep you right where he wanted you, and gave you those soft little kisses that never failed to make you melt.

“Mrs. Peña?” A nurse called out and he had no choice but to let you go with one last peck against your lips. He followed you and the nurse into the exam room, nerves and excitement soaring even higher in his chest.

It was kind of fascinating, watching you answer the nurse’s barrage of questions. Questions about your medical history, how many pregnancies you’ve had, all about your menstrual cycle. The two of you went back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, tossing questions and answers back and forth like a tennis match. The nurse left with the promise of the doctor being in momentarily for an ultrasound.

“Come hold my hand?” You asked, and how could he deny such a sweet request?

“Of course,” He pulled a chair from across the room and settled himself next to the exam table, both of his hands wrapping around one of yours as he brought it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “So what happens now?”

“The doctor will give me an ultrasound. She’ll probably want to run some blood tests, too.” You sighed, obviously uncomfortable at the thought of needles.

“I’ll hold your hand then, too.” Javier promised.

“It’ll be good practice for you, ‘cause once I’m in labor I’ll probably break your hand.” You teased and yeah, broken fingers didn’t sound all that great but fuck, he was more than ready to let you do just that. Javier wanted to be your rock, wanted to support you through it all - especially since he couldn’t the first time.

Two quick knocks sounded against the door made Javier straighten up hastily. The doctor came in with a smile and a large machine wheeling in behind her. “Good morning, mom and dad! How’re we feeling?”

“All good here, Dr. Hall. A little nauseous, but still… good.” You gave Javier’s hand a little squeeze before letting go to unbutton your jeans and fold the waistband down, followed by pulling the hem of your shirt up. It was hard to believe that the beginning of an entire new life was right there between your hips.

“Good to hear!” Dr. Hall fiddled with the ultrasound machine for a moment before turning to you. “So today we’re going to take a look and find out how far along you are, make sure mom and baby both look healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” You and Javier said in unison, and he took your hand again, needing to feel you there with him.

The gel must’ve been cold based on the way you hissed slightly. Javier watched the screen as Dr. Hall trailed the wand over your belly, lips parting at the sight of the black and white image. It was hard to make out what exactly he was seeing at first, but the image shifted slightly and he could make out the tiniest, vague shape of the newest edition to his little family.

“It looks like you’re about ten weeks along.” Dr. Hall murmured without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Baby is about the size of a plum.”

Javier squeezed your hand lightly, the both of you sparing a glance at each other before staring back at the screen in wonder. The doctor pointed out the baby’s head and a little foot as she took her measurements, reassuring you both that everything looked perfect. He gave a rushed “yes, absolutely” when she asked if he wanted the ultrasound photos - there was a spot in his wallet that he had in mind for it already.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in situations that left him shocked before. This was Javier Peña, after all. Life and career experiences had given him plenty of moments where his mind was completely washed blank with surprise, but never had it been such a good thing. There were so many times that the shock was accompanied by grief or anger, but excitement? Gratefulness? That was new to him, left him reeling the entire drive home, all throughout dinner. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him that he couldn’t be like this when Ellie got home the next day. She was smarter than he could’ve imagined any kid being at three years old and even though he agreed with your assertion that no one should know about your pregnancy for a few more weeks at least, Javier was certain his daughter would be able to needle it out of him.

Those expert interrogation skills must be hereditary.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that it really hit him how real it was, that you really were sitting in the bed you shared with him, pregnant with his baby and making plans for the usual Sunday brunch and park visit you all did every week. As he set his wallet on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but pull out the little ultrasound picture. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot, especially when the new cadets were driving him crazy at work. It all swelled up in his chest, the appreciation and excitement and disbelief, because holy shit, how did he get so lucky? One finger traced the little image in his hand, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Thank you.”

The confused look you gave him made him flounder for the words.

“I just… I know everything was fucked up the first time around but I swear, it’s going to be different this time. I am not going anywhere.” Javier slid closer at the sight of the tears in your eyes, easily welcoming your arms around his neck as you practically drug yourself into his lap. He held you close to his chest, trying to instill the certainty and promise of it all. “God, fuck, and I thought I couldn’t get enough of you before…”

“Javi…” You croaked, laughing wetly into his neck.

“I’m serious! You’re gonna have to tell me to fuck off when you want space because I can’t keep my hands off you.” Javi teased, relief washing over him at your seeming acceptance of his promises. “And now like this, growing my baby… fuck, I am in this with you. Me and you and Ellie… and our little plum.”

That night, Javier fell asleep with his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, and his hand tucked into the waistband of your sweatpants to cradle that precious space that held his newest child.

----------

Ellie couldn’t stop touting her new title to anyone who would listen.

“I’m a big sister!” She told the cashier at the grocery store, the other kids at the park and their moms for good measure, and even the mailman when they came by each morning. The brightness in her eyes when she said it made your heart flip in your chest. You had expected some sort of confusion or even for her to be upset at the idea of a new sibling, but she launched right into a story about how her friend from playgroup has a baby sister, and you knew that she would be just fine.

With your sixteenth week rapidly approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful that Ellie was excited for the new addition to the family. It was one less thing for you to worry about amidst the chaos of bringing a new person into the world. The fatigue was something you definitely didn’t miss about pregnancy - it washed over you without warning, left you nodding off wherever you sat. Thank god Javier was such a hands on father. He had no problem herding Ellie off into the backyard or off for a walk to let you get some much needed rest.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a hands on husband, though. Sure, you knew he was excited and you knew he already loved everything about your body, but he really wasn’t lying when he said pregnancy made him want you even more. Every night, Javi’s hands gravitated to your body to ease the kinks out of your muscles, to rub your feet until the aches went away, to cheekily offer you an orgasm if you were up for one. It made you feel cherished, something you sorely missed the first time you were pregnant.

“Thank you, Javi,” You groaned lowly as those strong hands of his worked at your lower back. He easily hitched your thigh up slightly to ease some of the pressure on the new swell to your belly. There was a slur in your voice when you said, “Feels so good.”

Javier chuckled behind you, moving on to rub your feet. “Be quiet, you don’t want to wake Ellie.”

“Did you ever see this being our life?” You murmured though your voice was muffled by the pillows you buried your head in. “Telling each other not to wake the kids, making bacon smiley faces for a toddler’s breakfast?”

“I didn’t think I’d actually get it, but I wished for it. Dreamt about how pretty you’d look all full of me.” Javi placed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh. “The real thing is so much better.”

You could only groan under his praise. His thumbs dug into the arch of your foot and rubbed in methodical circles, drawing another pleased groan from you that you muffled in your pillow. The pain slowly melted from your tired muscles under his thorough ministrations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his wake that made you all pliant and drowsy beneath him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Javi asked as he rubbed his hands up your calves and you smiled. You knew exactly what he was gunning for.

You eased yourself onto your back and reached out for him with both arms, bringing him forward with grabby hands that he could never refuse. Javier settled between your thighs, a knowing smirk on his face, and leaned down to kiss you deeply. “‘M feeling good, Javi.”

“You know I love making my girl feel good,” Javi murmured as he kissed down your neck, one hand trailing back and forth over your hip and thigh lovingly. “Can I make you feel even better?”

“Please?” You asked breathily and your husband was more than happy to oblige. The loose tank top you wore was the first to go, followed quickly by your shorts and underwear.

Javier set about lavishing your neck and chest with affection, his touch more gentle than usual on your oversensitive breasts, and once again you were struck by the surrealness of it all. The fact that this had begun in Colombia all those years ago as two coworkers using sex for stress relief and had blossomed into this beautiful life you shared together was a thing of dreams. But there you were, with Javier Peña making love to you, quietly as to not wake your daughter and gently as to keep you and your baby safe and happy, and you could barely believe it.

“I love you,” You choked out through the tears that sprung into your eyes and Javi sat up to look at you with a concerned expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes roaming all over to find the apparent source of your tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to pull him back down to you but he didn’t budge, the concern unwavering.

“Then why are you crying?” Javier brushed a thumb under your eyes to wipe away the evidence of your strong burst of emotion.

“Because I love you,” You chuckled as you held his hand close to your cheek and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. “And I’m pregnant, so everything is a thousand times more intense and you don’t get to tease me for that.”

“I would never,” Javi muttered but the mischievous grin on his face betrayed him. “Let me make you feel better, baby,”

“I’m already better, Javi - oh,”

----------

Two o’clock in the morning was not an ideal time to wake up, especially since Javier knew that Ellie would be awake and full of energy by seven, but something felt off. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the absence of you in bed and his mind nagged at him to get up and find you. The hardwood was cold beneath his feet as he wandered from the bedroom, finding the bathroom empty before he made his way down the stairs. You often would rest on the recliner in the living room when your back was bothering you particularly bad, especially since your center of gravity had so drastically changed the further along you got in your pregnancy - but you weren’t there either.

Before Javi could start really worrying, he heard the refrigerator open and found you peering into the illuminated fridge in search of… something. A pint of ice cream was already in your hand, a spoonful of it hanging from your lips as you browsed with a frustrated look on your face, and honestly… Javi loved how you looked. It was so domestic and sweet, the sight of you in your pajamas that barely covered your belly as you raided the kitchen.

Thirty-six weeks and four days. He could barely believe how much time had passed since he saw those positive tests. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time, and he was beyond excited to meet his newest little one.

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” Javi asked after a moment of watching you helplessly search around.

The sheepish smile you gave him made his heart swell in his chest and he automatically opened his arms as you shuffled over to bury your face in his chest. “Your kid is driving me crazy with the cravings.”

Javier hugged you tightly, relishing in the way you relaxed against him. “Well, if they’re anything like me, they probably want those barbecue chips, then.”

It didn’t take long for him to get you herded back up to bed with the chips in hand and the sight of you sleepily munching away while burrowed in the blankets eased an almost innate need Javier had to see you safe and happy, all nice and taken care of in his bed. He climbed into bed once he was sure you didn’t need anything else, settling on his side with his head propped up against his hand to watch you despite his own sleepiness.

“Let your mama sleep, troublemaker.” He murmured to your belly as he rubbed gentle circles over the spots he could feel the nudges of his little one retaliating to their father’s stern words. “Need some lotion?”

“Hmmm, please?” You hummed.

Rubbing lotion into your skin was something Javi had taken a particular liking to. The first time he had seen you doing it yourself, he was quick to take over. That was the first time he felt his little one kick at his hands and he fell even more in love - something he hadn’t thought was possible. It was a good way to feel closer to you both, to his wife and the baby you were bringing into the world, and the way you dozed slightly as he helped you relax made him feel needed, like he was doing right by you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

A nudge to the edge of his hand made Javier glance back down to where his hands were running all over your belly, but it was the sight of the baby rolling that made him do a double take. “Holy shit,” He whispered, hands frozen as he saw what had to be the imprint of a little foot or hand poke out before disappearing. “There really is a whole person in there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” You grumbled, grimacing slightly at the feeling. “It’s aerobics hour, apparently.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Javi tentatively resumed massaging the lotion into your skin. It was hard to fathom, the idea that your body was so capable of creating and nurturing a brand new life, and for the millionth time he found himself thanking the universe for letting him have this second chance.

----------

Gabriel Peña came early, quick, and with a sharp cry you were sure could be heard throughout the entire hospital. His little nose was scrunched up, his face all red from his wailing, hands curled into angry fists over his sudden eviction from the warmth and darkness he was accustomed to. It was a short labor, so very different from your first with Ellie for so many reasons but the biggest being the strong presence of Javier at your side. The moment the contractions began at the crisp hour of six a.m., he was alert and full of nervous excitement.

True to his word, Javier let you clutch onto him through it all - every contraction, every push, every angered grumble you threw his way for getting you pregnant in the first place. That sharp mind of his kept up under the pressure. He spoonfed you ice chips and let you use him for support as you rocked your way through particularly bad contractions.

There were tears in Javier’s eyes as he carefully set his hand on his son’s head, carefully musing the shock of dark, wispy hair on his head. You leaned your head against Javi’s shoulder, exhaustion, relief, and happiness warring with each other after hours of labor. You felt his lips press against your temple before he sniffled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Javier stayed by Gabriel’s side the entire time the doctors checked him over and cleaned him up, per your instructions, and he was the one to return your son to your arms. It was the most careful you had ever seen him, his movements slow and deliberate, eyes on the baby’s adorable, chubby face.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces,” Javi murmured as he drug a chair as close to your bedside as possible and settled in, his hand resting on your thigh. A disgruntled whine came from the baby wriggling in your arms and you smiled, knowing he was hungry and could probably smell the milk your body had been preparing to make for his arrival. You pulled the gown down to expose your breast, propping your arm with a pillow to better support him, and adjusted his latch to settle in.

“Nice latch, mama,” One of the nurses said as she finished settling the blankets around your feet.

“Not my first time at this rodeo.” You chuckled quietly. It had been a while since Ellie weaned but you still remembered the struggle of figuring out how to get a newborn to latch properly when you had no idea what you were doing. You set your hand over Javi’s, smiling at him when he blinked sleepily up at you. Neither of you had gotten much rest before Gabriel decided to make his appearance into the world. “Can you hand me some water, honey?”

“Of course,” Javi perked up with the small task you gave him. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, but you wanted him to feel involved, to feel like he was helping you, and even though his mere presence helped you relax, you knew he was an ‘action’ kind of man. He needed something to do to feel useful. He held the straw steady for you and everything, your sweet husband. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” You answered honestly, leaning into his hand when he brushed stray hairs from your face.

“I know this wasn’t easy. I’m proud of you.” It was a simple statement but it hit you right in your chest. As excited as you were to have another baby, it was hard. Exhausting. He could see it all, how tired you were and how hard you were working just to carry on like normal through your pregnancy, and while he did everything he could to ease some of that burden, the plain acknowledgement of how hard you worked felt good.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pulling his hand close to kiss his palm.

“I love you, too.” Javier leaned over the side of the bed and kissed you softly, careful not to jostle his son where he sleepily nursed against you. “How are our kids so damn cute?”

You huffed a laugh, which made Gabriel shift against you before settling back down, sighing suspiciously similar to his father. “It helps that their dad is incredibly good looking.”

“True,” Javi said, trying for that cocky tone you loved but you didn’t miss the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. Compliments always got him like that, all red-faced and adorable - though he would never admit it.

A short nap later and you had one very excited Ellie fidgeting in the chair next to your bed, impatiently waiting to meet her baby brother. Javier stood behind her, quietly reminding her to be careful as you helped keep the squirming newborn steady in her lap. Your heart damn near exploded when she began cooing at her brother and very gently touching his soft cheeks. She was enamored by him, asking so many questions that you and her father could barely keep up.

“Can we share my bed?” “No, he can’t sleep in your bed, baby. He has to sleep in a special bed in mommy and daddy’s room.”

“Does he get a special seat like me?” “Yep! Daddy’s putting his carseat in next to yours right now. You’ll get to talk to him the whole way home.”

“Is he gonna cry a lot?” “Yeah, he will. That’s how babies let people know they need something since they don’t have words like we do.”

“Can I share my crackers with him?” “Not yet! Right now, he only drinks milk.” “Milk? Like for cereal?” “Kind of, but it comes from your mommy.” “What?!” “You ate the same thing when you were a little baby, too.” “What?!”

The entire drive home was full of little Ellie chatting away at her baby brother, mostly about the stuffed animals she had at home that she promised to show him the moment they got home. There was a small smile on Javier’s face as he drove, his hand curled around yours on the center console. He practically radiated contentment and damn did it look good on him.

----------

For what felt like the millionth time, you woke before the sun had a chance to rise. Though this time, it was to the feeling of a full bladder rather than the sound of a hungry baby, so that could be counted as a small win at the very least. You tried to ignore the ache in your healing body as you stumbled your way to and from the bathroom, near silent in your movements even though you were half asleep. It was a well practiced dance, getting out and back into bed without waking your sleeping children.

But something was off. The sheets were cooler than usual, missing the fire-like heat that Javier radiated constantly. You sat up, blinking against the drowsiness and darkness to see your husband passed out on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Gabriel curled up on his bare chest. Skin-to-skin contact was something Javier couldn’t get enough of. He told you how close it made him feel to his son and you couldn’t complain. It was a precious sight. Avoiding the creaky floorboards, you carefully covered Gabriel with a soft baby blanket and smoothed it down his back.

“S’wrong?” Javier mumbled, words slurred with sleep, his eyes barely cracking open. On instinct, his hands shifted over the little baby asleep on him to hold him closer, even more secure.

“Shh, nothing’s wrong.” You soothed as you gently tucked his curls back away from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” And with that his eyes were closed, back to dozing like he was never interrupted in the first place. You were glad. Tomorrow was an early morning, and paired with all of the midnight feedings and diaper changes, you all could use some rest. So you laid back down, sleep dragging you back under swiftly.

Javier was practically bouncing with nerves just hours later, even though he was trying not to show it. It brought you back to that first appointment when you were pregnant, only this time he held a sleeping one-month old who he was trying not to wake up with his nervousness.

“I just want it to go well.” He grumbled when you asked if he was okay.

“It will.” You reassured him, rubbing circles into his knee. “They’re both perfectly healthy, the pediatrician will tell you that, too.”

You were right - then again, when weren’t you? Gabe was a healthy nine and a half pounds, strong heart and lungs, and good reflexes. Javier was hooked on the pediatrician’s every word, nodding along and giving you a relieved smile with each positive statement. And of course, Ellie’s rambunctiousness had the pediatrician and nurses completely captivated as she told them all about her preschool and the antics she got up to while they checked her over.

The pride on Javier’s face with every positive comment and reassurance that both of his kids were on track developmentally made your heart flip. You felt so beyond lucky to have this little family of yours, with two beautiful children and the man you always loved. It felt too good to be true sometimes, especially when Javi pulled you close for a tight hug and a kiss to the side of your head before he worked to get one wiggly Gabe back into his onesie.

One impromptu trip to the park later and you and Javier had two very tired kids on your hands. Ellie was already passed out by the time Javier pulled into the driveway but Gabe was quickly venturing into ‘overtired’ territory. He was grumpy, wriggling around in your arms like he couldn’t get comfortable, all the while giving little whines and grunts that threatened to turn into full on wailing. He didn’t want milk, he didn’t need a diaper change, he just wanted to sleep but was too frustrated to let a nap take him.

“Give ‘em here.” Javier offered and you freely handed him over. The postpartum fatigue was no joke, and even though it was lessening with each passing day, you were damn tired so you had no issue with letting your husband put the baby down for a nap. You curled up on the couch, not quite going to sleep but still letting your mind and body rest as you listened to Javi try to negotiate with Gabriel as if he were some sicario and not just a particularly stubborn baby.

“C’mon, little man. Just go to sleep. All of your problems if you went to sleep right now? Solved. Completely solved. Instead of crying you could just… go to sleep.” Javier whispered over the cooing and grunting of his son. “Oh, don’t give me that face, mister.”

You snorted a laugh - you knew exactly what face Gabe was pulling. His nose and eyebrows would scrunch up, lips pursed as he huffed angry breaths like a little baby bull. It was an exaggerated copy of the face Javier pulled anytime he was frustrated, which you found ridiculously adorable. Slowly, the grumpy grunts became more and more quiet until they disappeared completely, and a few moments later, Javier flopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“Got him down.” Javi said as he pressed close to you, burying himself between the back of the couch and your body to press his face into your neck. A blanket of drowsiness must have settled over the entire house as both kids napped peacefully in their beds and you cuddled up to your husband in the living room. The both of you would doze until the sound of little feet on the hardwood or the sounds of a hungry baby woke you, and then it would be back on the grind of parenthood, but you knew… with Javier by your side, you could do it.

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @i-ship-it-ironically @artsymaddie @mrsparknuts @wyn-dixie @notabotiswear @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @lemonlime09 @la-lunaluna @andruxx @greeneyedblondie44 @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @paintballkid711 @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @xgoldenjenny @mummifymecaptain @cjbtw @a-skov @himbotroy @xjsteph @marvelousmermaid @over300books @castleamc @darnitdraco @janebby @cannedsoupsucks @itssmashedavo @mtjoi @triggerhappyflygirl 

#javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #narcos

[marsbutterfly]

Hey ! How are you ? Can I request an imagine for Hanji x f!reader where they both get reincarnated in modern time ? They both died side by side during the rubbling and when they get reincarnated they both have memories of their past life (they were already lovers). Reader thought she was never going to see her girlfriend again but one day she finds her by chance.

Take care and have a nice day !

Note: Thank you so much for requesting this. I had fun writing it and the prompt was *chefs kiss* so I really hope you like it.

In Another Life

Summary: Reincarnation is the doctrine or belief that the soul reappears after death in another and different bodily form.

                               Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version!                                                      |◁ II ▷|

Cold sweat drips down your face as you bolt awake, digging your nails into the bedsheets. The same nightmare has been waking you up in the middle of the night since you were a child.

In your dream, you are a soldier who battles to save humanity in the fight against titans. Somehow, you always manage to kill the gigantic beings and return safely to the world inside the walls.

Always by your side is a brown-haired woman with glasses, her left eye is missing in most of the dreams. In all honesty, you have never seen anyone so beautiful before and, somehow, you remember her name.

Hanji Zoe.

One day, you stood by her side as the world you’ve once known was being left behind, turned into dust. She held your face in her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks, the feeling of her lips against yours is vivid and you can even smell the apple she had earlier.

The scream of your comrades echoes through the plane and into your brain but all you can focus on is the image of Hanji’s body catching on fire as the same flames burn down your back.

She hits the ground seconds before you do and somehow you manage to land by her side, hand touching hand as her lifeless body begins to cool down. You don’t have much time to think before a titan’s massive foot squishes your bodies at the exact same time.

That’s usually when you wake up, when your lungs and heart explode inside your chest due to the pressure of the step. When every blood vessel in your body gives in to the pressure and bursts inside you.

You grab your phone, only to realize your alarm was about to go off anyway. So instead of trying to go back to sleep, you simply push the covers aside and begin to drag yourself to the bathroom in hopes of getting your day started.

Not every dream you have is a nightmare. Some of them are about a life you don’t remember living: The combination of joy and fear after joining the Survey Corps, the warmth of Hanji’s naked body against yours, the delicious smell of freshly made apple pie coming from the kitchen in the middle of the night.

At nights where you don’t dream about that life, you miss it. You miss being around your friends, being able to move around the trees as if you were flying, you miss her. Her deep, brown eyes are all you can think about and time slips away from you.

Once your morning routine is completed, you decide to go for a run in the park behind your house. Since the sun has been out for less than an hour, it shouldn’t be too busy and you’ll be able to enjoy some quiet time.

As the armband slides up your skin, a chilling sensation travels down your spine and nearly every particle of hair in your body rises, even though you can’t understand why. So you simply shake your head and push the feeling down.

Carefully, you select your favorite playlist and check to make sure your laces are tied but before you can actually look, your phone rings loudly in your ear nearly giving you a heart attack.

Without a second thought, you decline the call without even checking to see who it is and you make your way outside.

The cold breeze welcomes you and the sweet smell of the food cart in front of your house hits your nose. Usually after a run, you reward yourself with one of their delicious crepes and that is enough motivation for you to finish your jog.

At this time, the park is the most peaceful place in the city. No crying babies in their strollers or loud business men walking around on their phone, there is only you and maybe three more people.

Your favorite song comes on and you feel the energy pumping through your veins with every beat. It’s the perfect weather for a run and you silently enjoy the calm that washes over your body.

Your mind wanders back to your nightmares and you start to remember the better part of it. The times Hanji would take you to a secret picnic after she became commander or the makeout sessions in the janitors closet.

In some ways, you could even feel her warm skin against yours, her kiss-swollen lips attached to you by a string of saliva. It nearly feels as if you had lived throughout all of it, but it couldn’t be possible.

You’re so deep into your thoughts that you don’t notice the stick on the floor and, when you do, it’s too late and you’re already halfway towards the ground so all you can do is protect your face from the concrete.

The impact itself isn’t too painful but the humiliation is what stings the most. If only you hadn’t gotten that call before leaving your house, you would’ve remembered to tie your shoelaces and therefore they wouldn’t have gotten stuck on the stick on the floor.

This isn’t the first time the woman in your dreams has caused you trouble. In a few of your memories, she would make too much noise when you sneak out and the Commander would eventually catch you.

Ever since you were young and these dreams first started, you’ve been going to a therapist after the other in hopes of understanding what all of this means and why is it happening to you but all came to the same result: inconclusive.

No matter how many doctors you see, no one can understand why you have such vivid dreams about a war nobody has ever heard anything about or creatures that have never once been proven to exist.

With your ass on the ground, you notice you used the word “memories” instead of dreams and for a second you feel as if all air has been sucked out of your lungs by a massive vacuum.

You shake your head, pushing those feelings deep down inside of you and getting on your knee, preparing to tie your laces when a familiar perfume rushes by you.

It’s faint and quick, probably carried by the wind but enough for you to snap your head backwards. A comforting feeling settles in your chest, warm and fuzzy if you could describe it. That’s exactly how the woman from your dreams smelled like.

You notice a brunette in a bright yellow sports bra turning around a bush not too far away, but you can’t see if she’s wearing glasses or if she only has one eye, like Hanji did.

“Y/N don’t be ridiculous!” You say to yourself, standing up and brushing away the dirt from your clothes, “Hanji is not a real person, she’s like an imaginary friend.”

Forgetting all about your fall, you decide to resume your run. The pain in your foot forces you to go a bit slower than you are used to but nothing too serious.

Once you are done running your laps around the park and begin to make your way back home, a few drops of rain begin to fall on your skin, forcing you to rush home.

As you are eagerly awaiting for the crepe you’ve been dreaming about for hours, the owner of the small cart has a sad expression on his face.

“I’m fresh out of batter. My husband just went to grab some more, it should take a little longer than 45 minutes, I am so sorry Y/N.” He says and you sigh, a compassionate smile on your lips and you nod.

“You will save me the first one you make when he’s back right?” You ask and the man eagerly nods.

“Of course. With banana, strawberry and chocolate, right?”

And you laugh, knowing that the only reason why he knows your order so well is because his crepes have been your breakfast each morning since you first moved into this apartment.

Once you are done with the conversation, you rush up the stairs and immediately into the shower. With a washcloth you gently brush the dirt out of your bruised knee, quietly hissing as the burning sensation takes over.

Even though you know you aren’t supposed to do so, you pour hydrogen peroxide on top of the wound and a scream leaves your throat at every step of the way.

“Today really isn’t my day.” You say to yourself as you begin to wash your hair. A few specs of dirt fall to the ground and a prolonged sigh escapes your lips. Everything just seems to be going wrong: rain, no crepe, fell during a run, what’s next? Waiting in line at the coffee shop for over an hour?

As you stand in line, you realize you should have kept your mouth shut. Even though you ordered online, the amount of people surrounding the pick up area was beyond ridiculous and you were definitely getting late for work.

Once your turn finally comes, you thank silently in hopes that you will be able to actually make it in time. So with your chest out and happiness on your face, you loudly say over the many other voices, “Order for Y/N!”

The guy behind the counter looks confused as he checks every cup individually and you watch over him as he does so. He shoots you a sadden and a little annoyed look and you realize that the “Order” button never got pushed.

Your eyes fill with tears of frustration but you brush them away and take your phone out, repeating your online order to the barista on the register and they write it down perfectly.

Your eyes are glued to your phone’s screen while you wait for a message from your boss but the same comforting sensation you felt this morning is back again. Maybe it’s the smell of coffee that reminded you of the trips to Marley or the crowds of different people around, much like eldians and marleyans.

“I have to get this shit out of my brain.” You say, shaking your head and focusing on typing out a message to your friend, complaining and hoping that you won’t get fired today. You worked too hard to get this job and if they let you go over some 20 minute wait, you’ll raise hell on Earth.

“Order for Y/N?” A familiar voice says but you can’t identify from where.

So you walk to the counter, finally putting your phone away and counting the coffees. Your eyes land on the barista’s hand, who carries your regular order. You reach for it and in a split of a second, your hands touch.

The world around you seems to stop and so does your breathing. When you look at her, you realize she is the part of you that has been missing all along. She’s a real person and not a dream. You look at her nametag, just making sure you aren’t going insane and there it is. “Hanji Zoe”

In that minimal touch, you are bombarded by the emotions of a lifetime ago. The first day you met, the first titan experiment you had done together, the first kiss, the first time you’ve had to kill a titan because she would always get too damn close to being eaten alive.

But you are also reminded of the last meal you both ate, the last nose rub, the last time her lips touched yours, the last hand holding, the last breath you both took before you woke up where you are now.

And just like that, feelings you didn’t know were possible for you to have emerged from deep within your chest as if a box that has been sitting deep inside the closet has now just been opened. It even seems like the world has just gotten a bit more colorful.

Tears shine in your eyes as the coffee you just waited so long for hits the ground. With a smile on your face, you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her over the counter. It doesn’t take her more than a second to seal your lips together.

Her breath tastes like the hot chocolate she had earlier that day but it still manages to awaken butterflies that laid dormant in your stomach throughout your entire life. It’s not until your phone rings in your pocket that you are brought back to reality.

“I’m so late for work!” You smile at her and rush out of the store, the container with the other cups in your left hand.

“Wait!!” A voice screams from just outside the coffee shop and you immediately turn around to see Hanji, her hat in her hand as she comes closer to you. “I knew something was missing my entire life and….”

“And now I realize it was you.” You two say in perfect unison and she nods.

“Why don’t we start over? This time, without any titans around.” She asks and you smile.

“Hey, I’m Y/N.” You say, extending your hand.

“I’m Hanji Zoe and I would love to take you on a date sometime.” Hanji meets you in the middle, shaking your hand.

“I really have to go.” You say and a frown appears on her face, you have to fight the will to quit your job and start a nice, little life in the woods with her. Something you’ve always talked about but sadly never got to have.

“I’ll wait for you right here then.” She says, letting go of your hand slowly and you immediately touch the back of her head and bring her in for a long kiss while still managing to keep the cups in your hand still.

This time it was not a goodbye kiss. It was simply the second first kiss you’ve ever had with Hanji and hopefully, it will not be the last.

#hange zoe #hange zoe x reader #hange x y/n #hange zoe/reader #hange zoe imagine #hange x reader #hanji zoe #hanji x reader #hanji zoe x reader #hanji zoe imagine #hanji zoe/reader #attack on titan #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfic #aot #snk #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk imagine #aot imagine #attack on titan imagine

[dracosathenaeum]

Try | D.M.

Summary: Arranged marriages don't always work.

Warnings: mentions of sex, cheating, alcohol, violence, pregnancy, murder/suicide (touched upon briefly in one sentence) 

this is kinda a dark towards the end, reader is very self deprecating so only read if comfortable with all things mentioned xx

Word Count: 1.4k

 #A/N: I HAVE AGED UP ALL CHARACTER FOR THE PURPOSE OF THIS FIC. (fun fact: half of my year group were professional drinkers by 13 and had lost their virginities by 15, UK schools are something else I tell you)

You don’t love him.

He doesn’t even try to.

You had known who Draco would be to you by the time you were old enough to form thoughts. It wasn’t something your parents had ever tried to hide, nor was it something the either of you particularly held opinions for. It was your duty as a pureblood witch; that much had been drilled into you the second you had come out of your mother’s womb, knowing Draco would’ve been through the same had been little solace.

You had spent the years up until your 18th birthday getting along with each other for your family’s sake, a civil understanding between the two of you, but neither of you fully acknowledging what the other meant to them. You had tried. Once. He had looked at you with murder in his eyes and you had never tried again.

The summer before 7th year however, you had shared a bed every night. Protection charms were cast so that you remained pure of course, but they weren’t ever even really needed; you had both been in the same bed, but the distance between you had never been greater. You would both climb into bed, you facing one way, him reading a book until his eyes got heavy and turned to face the opposite way of you. You both pretended as though the other did not exist, something that would become a habit in the years to come.

//

He was always gone. The first 6 years of Hogwarts you had seen him constantly; you shared the same group of friends after all. They all knew of the betrothal too, no one daring to bring it up infront of the two of you, but you knew they gossiped behind your back. These ‘friends’ of yours were simply pureblooded heirs who would do anything to tear you away from Draco so they could dig their claws into his family fortune. And they were welcome to, you never once stopped their advances on him; no that was his own doing.

For years you had thought that had meant he had respect for your arrangement, for you, but in 7th year you had started finding him with random girls in hallways, skirts bunched up at their waists as he mouthed at their necks. Both too indulged in pleasure to even notice you standing just a mere few metres away. It didn’t matter that they didn’t see you, your face didn’t betray your emotions, you were above that after all.

It hurt at first; not the jealousy kind of hurt; more of the my-arranged-fiancé-who-I-have-no-feelings-for-is-shagging-other-girls kind of hurt.

You didn’t love him, and he sure as hell didn’t love you. Perhaps you were just too naive to think a snake could have an ounce of loyalty in them. That would be the last time you would put faith in him; something you had found rather useful in preventing further unnecessary feelings.

You had spent the next day’s inside of your own head; debating on whether this would be your ticket out of the marriage, or simply be a thorn in your back. You had found him with 6 other girls over the course of a week, all being fucked into oblivion that they hadn’t even noticed you.

Draco had though.

He had seen you the last 3 times, perhaps he had seen you all along, only acknowledging your presence the last few occasions.

Eyes holding their gaze on you as he continued to rock his hips into the girl against him, a smirk on his face. He had wanted you to find him. He had wanted to hurt you. Your expression did not falter once, you held onto his gaze, waited until he was bored of trying to break you and broke eye contact himself.

You had wanted to retaliate; you even went as far as crawling into Theo’s bed after a Slytherin party that had ended with everyone being too drunk to think. But even when you were 7 shots of firewhiskey in, you couldn’t bring yourself to give yourself to someone you didn’t love. Thinking back on it now, you wondered if you even would’ve been able to, given the protective blood charm your father had placed on you to protect your worth.

You had been in hysterics, not over Draco, but upon the realisation of how powerless you were that you couldn’t even hurt someone back that didn’t so much as care about you. You were trapped, this would be how you would feel for the rest of your life and you couldn’t as much as rebel even when only betrothed. You knew that once you were officially married there would be no way out, but you still couldn’t do it. You couldn’t betray your bloodline, and its traditions that had been grounded into you from the moment you were born.

You were pathetic. Harry Potter defeated Voldemort as a baby, yet you at 18 couldn’t do so much as make your own life choices.

Theo Notts did what anyone else would’ve done and dragged your fiancé in to quell your sobs. In hindsight, dragging in Draco whilst his fiance was naked and sobbing in another guy’s bed probably wasn’t his greatest idea as Draco had punched him clean across the face, his pale skin turning an angry red.

A turning point was what you let yourself believe as he held you for the first time. You had spent more time alone that night then than you had ever done (awake anyways). For the first time in 17/18 years he had willingly stayed in your company for more than 2 seconds. He had let you sob into his neck until they turned into quiet hiccups and eventually soft snores. He had fallen asleep with you and woken you up with a cup of tea, a tense but somewhat comfortable silence between the two of you.

Naive. Stupid. Ignorant.

One moment of weakness could never have changed years’ worth of indifference, perhaps even hatred.

Nothing had changed. And why would it?

Sure he no longer pretended as though you didn’t exist (although the both of you pretended that night hadn’t) but he was still finding a different witch to fuck each night. You never saw them again, but you knew. Everyone did.

That had been 3 years ago.

Nothing had changed in that time.

Well; other than the wedding band on your left hand.

He would still see other women; you just hadn’t caught him. He would never bring them home and risk the wrath of his parents after all. He wouldn’t dare risk anything that could harm his reputation.

No, you just smelt their sickly-sweet perfume on him after he crawled back into your shared bed at ungodly hours.

You would dispose of their hairs left on his clothes before the house elves found out and reported it to his parents. You would make excuses as for why he was late to important gatherings and doctors’ appointments. You kept up the image of happy wife so that they wouldn’t know of your misery and label you both as a failure to the bloodlines you held the futures of.

You would always wake just as he climbed back into bed, he had as much consideration for his wife as he had for house elves.

It was the same every night. You would pretend to be asleep, wait for his tell-tale change in breathes before you turned to hover over him, knife in hand, unsure of who to kill; yourself, your precious husband or the both of you.

But every night you would place the knife back in your nightstand, turn over, and fall asleep again; and let the day repeat itself.

You had tried to love him. But Draco Malfoy was impossible to love.

That was how it had been for the first 3 years of marriage.

It had changed just a few weeks ago.

Now, he would still come back, just not as late as before, but still covered in perfume that would make you instantly nauseous. You would still feign sleep but this time, he would press a hand to your stomach before turning over and falling asleep. You still had the knife in your bedside drawer, you just hadn’t reached for it again.

Draco Malfoy was still impossible to love, but the child inside of you wasn’t.

After thoughts/headcanon continuation 

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#Draco x reader #Draco Malfoy x reader #draco x reader angst #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x y/n #tw alcohol #tw cheating #tw pregancy #tw violence #tw knife #tw pregnancy #tw sex #tw mention of suicide