#i am providing this service

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 14

Synopsis: The Reader gets a potential glimpse into her future. She also makes an enemy.

A/n: yeaaayyyy. More fun. Fuckery world building. Thanks to all my readers. I should probably do a tag list instead of zapping ur inboxes. Uhhh....yeah. to my mutuals who have to deal with me and aren't attached to this, I am sorry. I love you and I would donate my organs to you.

Grades were posted. Most were good, nothing to really write home about. You did far better than you expecting. The self-doubt really was deep-rooted, wasn’t it?

Except one. That stupid alien gave you a near-perfect. Just one point shy of an absolutely perfect one-hundred percent.

So much for no favoritism…

You’d take it anyways. And not bring it up…

Work was slow but it was steady.

He even met you between shifts at your park.

You started feeling a tad insane without him. Did love feel like this? You admitted you had little experience with love. Just what you attempted to create in the past. And trashy books and television shows and movies and songs…

You needed him like you needed a cigarette and a stiff drink after a long day.

Bella Swan would be so proud of you, you degraded yourself in your mind.

“How is work going?” The Doctor asked with genuine shine of curiosity in his tone and face.

“The amount of professors in now…I have to dodge them! I do think the statistics professor I had two terms ago recognized me!” You spoke in a shocked, scared tone. You didn’t need that getting out. Could ruin your future plans.

“Oh no!” He chuckled, as he handed you a bit of sandwich.

“You aren’t forgettable.”

You skeptically glared over at him.

“Any who. How was your gig at the student union?”

“No one appreciated the irony of Pink Floyd.”

“And?”

“Everyone loves Doctor Disco!” He flourished then played air guitar.

You burst out laughing. With a quick roll of your eyes, you shook your head.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“I invented the concept!”

“Probably true!” You let yourself think of his time on Earth. Who knew what funk he has spread? You weren’t going to delve into it much more.

Yet.

One day, when you felt brave enough.

“I have to go to London for a while in two weeks. Just maintenance of the Black Archives…I need to streamline some stuff for making it easier for my next few regenerations. And update some things about a plan for proxy since another organization is down to a woman named Gwen and her husband and she’s thinking of retiring the entire engagement. Her…leader hasn’t returned to the planet in ages. I doubt he ever will. This planet has caused him too much pain. Which, ironic, since his ancestors came from here. Talk about mother wounds! Just upload all the databases for UNIT to deal with.”

“Inviting me?” You clarified.

“Yeah…I think it’ll take a week. Especially with the layers of bureaucracy that is in place these days.” He looked over, his hair caught in the wind. “Could you spare a week? No TARDIS, no time travel. Just hop to, hop out, the slow way around.”

You licked your top row of teeth and scraped it back into place.

“Sure?”

“Perfect. I’ll have them ready a room, a better room for us.”

“One with a window?”

“If they do have those.”

You nodded.

“It’s a date!”

“Fantastic.” He smiled but seemed to flash in his eyes some hidden response from just the one word…

You chewed your shared sandwich and sipped your can of Coke Zero. The weather was getting warmer and the sun was actually shining in one of those perfect, photo-ready days.

“The vitamin D feels good, doesn’t it?” You turned your head to face the sun. The heat felt too good on your skin. You let a little moan slip through your lips.

“Perhaps. I might need a sun crème soon.” He replied.

You snorted. He was bone pale, but you didn’t know how alien skin worked yet.

“Yeah, you are pretty pale.”

Your alarm went off and you had to go.

Final good-byes said and you stalked off.

You had to plan out your little London escape. If it was hard work for him, you wanted to kill time in comfort. Do some sightseeing. Nothing major. London had tons of viral cafés and pop-ups.

The time flew by…

And suddenly you were off and away in another fancy armored Range Rover with armed escorts.

He did do you a bit of justice and got you a room with a view. Just not a particularly stunning one…

He went off, rather rapidly if you did say so yourself, because something needed him to submit his DNA and he couldn’t have any radiant interference. Petronella needed to be with him to get her DNA analyzed or something. You were not going to try to comprehend.

Fine by you, you’d nose around. There were so many floor and he gave you some sort of weird blank paper he said would get you through anything you needed.

“It’s psychic paper!” He said, smile up to his ears.

“Looks like a piece of printer paper shoved into an old wallet to me.” You replied as you regarded the object.

Fine by you, you stuffed it in your jean’s pocket.

You found yourself on the first floor, and saw a door open. There was a sign posted on an easel. ‘Companions and Surviving Family Support Group’, it proclaimed.

You put two and two together. It was probably in reference to the man doing who-knows-what.

You weren’t a companion per say. The Doctor assured you as much.

Did you invade? Did you go look at your future? Or a potential future? It mentioned family members…

Your curiosity got the best of you. Like that damn cat!

You walked in, it was set up like a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. Coffee, sweet treats, chairs all in a circle.

There were already a crowd of people.

And your entrance wasn’t exactly planned.

You slid onto the chair that was closest to the door. An east exit if this was too much.

“Oh! A new face!” A woman with a lot of life etched into her face with a kind smile and a mop of white-shock hair, her lips as red as blood.

“Does, is…am I late?” Was the best you could choke out. You could feel your eyes start to bulge. You swallowed hard. All eyes were on you. You didn’t like it. You preferred anonymity.

The mistake was already clear in your mind.

“No, dove. Right on time! We’re still waiting on Ian! I’m Jo!” She scooted her chair closer to you.

You thrust your tongue out and bit it’s side.

“I’m (y/n).”

A short woman with a leather jacket and all the authoritarian air of something that placed your hairs on the back of your neck at attention glared at you and Jo. “Why don’t we save it all for introductions…”

You got up and grabbed a bottle of water and sat back down.

An ancient man wandered in and sat down.

“Oh! Ian, love! We got a new straggler!” Jo said to him and gave him a hug that seemed too strong for her aged body.

The bossy girl cleared her throat. “Now we can start.”

You hated her already. She clearly ran this group with an iron fist.

There was Jo, Ian, the bitch’s name was Yaz, Martha, a woman who called herself Ace, a married couple named Nyssa and Tegan, a grandmother and grandson duo named Graham and Ryan, a Mel, and some young man named Luke…

Quite a big group.

It came down to you, you introduced yourself. And were supposed to give some brief synopsis of your relationship with the Doctor.

You stared off into space.

“Yeah, he’s here…doing something. I don’t know. I’m his…girlfriend. He’s also a professor at my university.” You stared at your left palm and gauged the reaction. “Nothing major. I’ve got his promise that he’s not going to get me in the way of death.” You finished with a shrug. “He introduced me to his…ex recently. Some milf named Missy. Have you lot met her?”

Yaz’s eyes could have make entrails out of you…

“What? Did I not brush my teeth correctly?” You pointed that faux-question towards her.

“She told me she didn’t do relationships.” She spoke in a tiny voice eventually.

“Well, maybe I’m special.” You shot Yaz a shit-eating grin masked as an innocent smile.

“Oh! I heard the Master went female!” Jo broke up your brewing tiff. “He was such a softie towards me! I enjoyed our little battles.”

You laughed and covered up your palm.

The conversations went on. Mainly centered around Missy now. Apparently she was the prime minister and tortured Martha and her family. Also, body-snatched Nyssa’s father. And became a cat. She’d certainly done her fair share of damage. No wonder she was chained up in a basement in Bristol of all places.

That explained her feline nature.

“Which Doctor are you with?”

“I don’t know. Tall? Thin? Scottish? Severe face? Plays guitar? Wild grey hair. Dark roots, too handsome…yeah.” You didn’t know how many or what the Doctor looked like previously.

“Oh. So the one before Yaz and Graham and me!” Ryan piped up. “She mentioned being a grey-haired Scot right before we met her.”

“Oh, so he got his wish of being a chick next.” You affirmed.

“Wonder what happened to you!” Yaz said, venom starting to leak into her voice.

“Nothing I need to know about, okay?” You pressured back. Two could play this game.

She clearly had sour grapes over you getting chosen and not her.

More conversations broke out, more story-swapping. You started to feel beyond way out just out of your depths. You had to keep your calm. Especially in front of your new foe. Any weakness and you were going to be either throwing down with her or she’d do something unspeakable.

She was apparently a police officer, after all!

“So you’ve never gone on an adventure? To space? Not even back in time? Or forward?” Ace spoke incredulously.

“No, I’m not going to put my life at risk. I made him promise to not. He’s retired. He just needs to help UNIT and rehabilitate Missy.”

“She doesn’t stay good!” Yaz spit out. She then told her tale of him and how the only way to break free from him, the Doctor had to hand Missy over to the Nazis.

“Not my problem.” You said, after finally scraping your jaw off the floor.

“And wow, what the fuck happened between now and when? Handing over someone to the literal Nazis?” You shot up an errant hand and glared. “And hanging around cops. No offense. It’s like historical Jesus versus American Jesus.” You made the decision to bite your middle finger nail in a covert attempt to flip her off.

“Maybe you had something to do with it.” She accused.

“Oh, yeah. Blame me.” You said.

Others attempted civility between the two of you.

Martha seemed between two minds here.

“Just remember how powerful your emotions are!” Ian called out. “Especially how deeply the Doctor evokes them in us!”

It dawned on you, and you decided to take the highest of roads. “Yeah, were dealing with some alien. Like…damn. We really are out here getting….cut up over an alien. He’s our weird alien. But yeah.” He was your alien. And you were going to defend your man, but you didn’t want Yaz and her feelings to make you any less powerful. “His body count has got to be in the millions.” You used the term in a way to dig in that the Doctor picked you for the mainstream meaning and not Yaz. But it worked for companions too!

“Who knows how many of us he’s taken a shine to!” Suddenly you felt yourself heart plummet. You knew you weren’t special as part of a group, but you decided to soothe yourself with your marked differences. No magical abduction story. Just a normal, morally-grey student and teacher relationship. Only it was your luck to end up with the most ran-through alien.

And, it did suit you. You too were ‘ran-through’.

You wished he was free and you could get some comfort here…

You felt yourself return to normal, and decided to pass the ultimate catch.

“Sorry for getting heated. The past month or so since he’s revealed his double life to me, has been…shattering. I’ve only recently discovered that he was…you know, not some man I hang out with. I only recently started calling him Doctor. Not Professor Smith.”

The though of him not taking anyone else as a lover after you did fill you with a sense of pride. Whatever impact you had, that was a mark in your favor. Loyal to you…even if you were dead or broken-up or whatever your fate was to mess around with anyone else.

A permanent (y/n)-shaped hole no one could even get close enough to fill.

When he was done with his task you’d have to slap him and then suck him off.

Martha finally put in her two cents.

“Just don’t get hurt. The last time he was in love when I was with him…so bad. The ending was enough to destroy me.”

“Thank you.”

The conversation went back to normal. You really enjoyed Jo’s stories. Apparently he was a white-haired debonair sort for her. You were curious to see what that had looked like. You doubted it could compare to your particular Doctor, but it was probably very close.

You found yourself laughing and getting along with most. Except for Yaz. You both kept finding yourselves shooting daggers at each other.

You tried to rise above it.

However. You were only human…

You heard a sharp rap at the door and turned at the noise.

It was your Doctor.

“Sorry. I was going to the toilets. Heard some nice familiar voices. Smelt the coffee! I love a cup of coffee after genetic sequencing…Hello!”

There were nary a word as he strode over and made a cup, dumping about a dozen sugar packets in.

“I’ll let you all talk amongst yourselves. Oh, and (y/n), I have tickets to walk through the Chelsea Physic Garden at three. Will you join me? And Martha, I am so deeply sorry for all I’ve done to you. It’s weighed on my conscience since I was a young man in a bow-tie. Truly. From the bottoms of both my hearts. And, oh, faces I don’t know yet, catch your laters.” He shot a quick peace sign.

He breezed out with the same ease that he came in with…

You flushed hard and felt yourself wanting to kick your legs hard. The smile that crept up around your face was probably very goofy. You felt suddenly very giddy and lovesick. And embarrassed.

You swore you heard Yaz mutter something about “Daddy issues”.

You wanted to snap and fight her on the floor.

Jo and Ace heckled. “Oh, he’s back to being a groovy gentleman.” Jo said. “I recognize that red jacket!”

After a while, everyone seemed to wrap it up.

You received quite a few warnings about how passionate a relationship with the Doctor is, and how it would eventually run it’s course.

You didn’t know whether to heed it, or believe him. You were airing on the side of him. After all, he could have popped down here in his TARDIS, but he was following your regulations down to the letter. Changed behaviors, and for whatever reason, when you were long gone, and he was a she, the Doctor didn’t take Yaz up on her romantic offerings.

You felt ashamed of your ‘I can fix him’/’I am the only exception’ mindset. You were a rebel to the idea of monogamy usually. You also didn’t believe in true love. Not after all that you’d seen at work and even experienced in your personal life. However, the beating of your heart and the ache in your soul and the throb of your cunt interfered…

You felt like you were his favorite.

Maybe you were.

You were delusional enough, you decided.

With final hugs and you swore you’d get down and learn more about your shared alien, you’d exited to go and text him that you were out front, smoking.

“You know, maybe you died from lung cancer.” Yaz materialized, carrying some stuff to her car. “Or emphysema.”

You blew out a puff in her general direction.

“I don’t need a lecture. He’s already on my ass enough to get me to quit.” You played back.

“So, lady Doctor. What does she look like?” You asked. Curious. You tried a friendly route. “Still Scottish?” The two incarnations of Time Lords you had met had been. It was an honest question. You even tried a cordial laugh.

“No, definitely not Scottish.”

You nodded.

“She’s blonde and has the most amazing eyes! I took her to get her ears pierced. She’s the most incredible and infuriating person I’ve ever met.”

“Apparently that’s par for the course.” You agreed.

She gave you some agreement.

“Does she still play guitar?” You offered an opportunity to bond, girl to girl. You may have hated her, but a cop on your side may come in handy. One day. And you both were tied to each other now.

So…you had to act your age or whatever.

She was a little younger than you. You could remember being her age. Empathy.

“No, she can’t even carry a tune. She sings all the time.”

You had to let a small snort escape.

“He can sing really well.” You cupped a palm to your mouth. “It’s a bit annoying at times, you know. He frequently does during his lectures.”

“So…that hadn’t changed.” You could see the gears in her brain turning.

“Wait, he’s your professor?” She exclaimed.

“Not currently.” You shrugged, as his text saying that he was coming down popped up, absolved of guilt.

“That’s so wrong!”

“Honey, the Doctor abducts barely legal girls with a degree of regularity. I think a tame affair with a student who started uni later than most is the best-case scenario. You included.” You flicked a bit of ash off your cigarettes end. “No offense.”

“Yeah…” You clearly won.

He swanned into the little front garden at the entrance of UNIT. He changed to a hoodie and simple black blazer and a relaxed pair of checked trousers.

It made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey. I was thinking Italian for dinner. Or Thai. In the fifty-second century there’s a great collision of their flight colonies.”

You smacked your teeth together and let out the final puff of smoke.

“You’re the Doctor before my Doctor.” Yaz gazed up, a look of pre-mourning in her eyes.

“As my wife, River, would say, ‘Spoilers, sweetie.’ It’s nice to meet you early. I’ll try to wipe you from my memory to make it easier for my future self.” He gave Yaz’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Yeah, good luck. See you soon?” You called out as you let yourself be swept off your feet by your particular Doctor.

“Sure?” You heard her say.

A few blocks later and going on the Underground, you pulled him close by the lapels. You gave him a firm kiss and slapped his ass. It was a ‘thank-you’ in a small, simple way. You’d never end up, all things go as planned, like any of those perfect victims. Who knew, maybe you’d dump him. It was all open-ended.

You had your entire life ahead of you. More or less.

For now, it was just you, the Doctor, and a walk in a garden with a fabulous dinner date.

“What was that for?” He looked at you quizzically.

“You’ll never know…” You grinned immensely and a little psychotically. You felt your nose crinkle a bit.

“Oh?” He replied back, skeptical in tone.

It was a start.

“Yeah…” You breathed, inhaling this moment. Inhaling the scent of him, you felt sane, safe, stable and most importantly- in love and loved back.

The train pulled up.

A perfect start to a perfect week.

He snaked out the psychic paper and tapped it like it was an oyster card. You entered the platform and smiled up at him...

Yeah, life was beyond awesome.

[thelastharbinger]

Tenoch Huerta on why the idea that “hard work always reaps its rewards” isn’t true. Talent and hard work alone doesn’t guarantee entry into certain spaces (you’ll always be sidelined even when you’re included), but it will determine your longevity once you force your way in.

[wizzard890]

I give my cat a pill crushed up in a little cat bisque every day and mostly she eats it just fine, but some days she absolutely refuses unless she can lap each individual bite off her maidservant's (my) fingers.

a baby who can only be fed by the delicate touch of a lesbian.

[demilypyro]

REAL

[fireis-catching]

a lil monday work selfie 🖤

[dalkyum]

bf shaped ♡

[uncanny-tranny]

I think I've cracked why it makes me so irate when customers have this expectation that workers not only offer service to them but to Do It With a Smile.

It's this sense of entitlement that it isn't enough to have a service offered to you, but that it must never remind you why workers might not be chipper.

What people mistake is that this country is built off freedom that makes us All Happy. What they miss is that this country was built on façades and platitudes - the comfort of being shielded from any uncomfortable reality.

[starpirateee]

For drabbles, may i request an alternate universe where Curt fell instead of Owen in SAF?

Oh anon this one's MEAN, straight up. I'm more than happy to oblige, though!

tw for blood, injury and death (your canon typical act 1 part 1 nonsense 😔)

"Hands up, both of you!"

Owen subtly slipped his pistol into the inner pocket of his jacket as he and Curt backed off so far they ended up backing into each other, and raised his hands as a point of surrender. They had been on a rather impressive chase through the halls of the facility, to the point where there had been a second where Owen had thought they were going to get away.

But, typical to their luck, that wasn't the case. Someone was pissed about the plans that Curt was about to steal, and perhaps the fact that Owen had offloaded into a guy's kneecaps didn't exactly help their case…

Feeling Curt pressed against him brought a little bit of calm to the storm, he supposed. The two of them were in this together, after all, and it was a comfort to know that included going down together when something went wrong.

The Russian agents began to advance, forcing Curt and Owen that little bit closer to one another. Owen counted six on his end, all holding various firearms. They weren't messing around, one of them would likely shoot if they so much as moved in a way they didn't like. He felt Curt take a heavy breath against his back, his shoulder blades rising and falling like he was trying to pull himself together. He dared to try and shoot him a glance over his shoulder, and then the entire building shook beneath their feet.

"Curt?" Owen's eyes widened, watching the agents fall to the ground one by one. He and Curt had built such a sturdy support system by accident that they managed to remain the only ones upright.

Curt looked around frantically, eventually meeting Owen's gaze. "I lied! I set the timers for three minutes!"

Owen decided he would think about that at a later time, when there was less chance thay were going to be actively killed. "Oh god… Curt, you're gonna be the death of me, I swear to-"

"We don't have time! Kill me later, we gotta go!"

The pair of them started running again, Owen only a few steps ahead of Curt. he gripped the railing as tight as he could manage, pushing himself up and trying to work out their next move before it happened. They needed to stay ahead of the game, and it helped that he already knew the layout of this place a little.

Curt was trailing his path. His footsteps clattered against the metal staircase, keeping good pace-

Until they came to an abrupt stop.

"What're you doing, old boy?" He asked, slowing his pace a little.

No response.

Panicked, Owen glanced back, at the exact moment he heard a piercing scream rip through the air. When he turned around, he just about managed to catch Curt slip through the gap in the railing, caught on the tail end of…

Of the banana peel that he'd left on the ground not a quarter of an hour before.

Owen gasped, rushing forwards and reaching out for his hand. "Curt! Hold on!"

Their fingertips brushed together. Owen made an effort to lean forwards as much as he could, but he couldn't get there fast enough. Curt fell through his grasp, through the balcony…

Owen's body carried him away from the balcony until his back slammed against the wall. He breathed, his eyes wide, and then scrambled away from the scene. He didn't have the time.

He raced out of the facility, hearing the vague sound of pursuit behind him. There was one thing on his mind, and that was escape. Escape before the two of them succumbed to the same fate. Escape, so he still had the chance to go back and look for Curt after-

There was another violent rumble that shook the ground and forced Owen to sturdy himself against the nearest wall. God only knows he was powering himself on pure adrenaline alone, and he was well aware of the mere seconds he had left before the whole building caved in on itself.

This rush of adrenaline carried him out, and in the moment, he'd almost completely forgotten that he was running alone, that he was no longer clearing a path for another man.

As the blasts became more frequent, he turned, instinctively checking for Curt. But, there was nobody following him, neither Russian or American… What the hell did Curt think he was playing at? Where was he?

Oh.

Of course.

Curt had fallen from a sizeable height off the balcony, and he wasn't coming back. All logic dictated that he was already dead, though Owen's better instincts begged him to believe that wasn't the case. While there was nobody to blame for Curt's fall but Curt himself, it still hurt to think about how he was almost not the first one up the stairs, or that Owen had not bothered to protest when Curt refused to lock in the saftey barricades. He had set his timers for three minutes. He'd blatantly lied… Now look where he was.

Owen didn't have the time to curse him out, because just as he turned and went to carry on running, the building started to come down just beside him, and he was thrown back into the air. A sharp fracture of broken brick hit him square in the face, tearing the skin of his cheek, and he was unconscious before he hit the ground. He didn't know how long it was before he regained himself, but it was darker than he remembered when he finally opened his eyes again.

Immediately, he was hit with a wave of something that was in equal measures pain and nausea, and winced, bringing a hand up to his face. His forefinger brushed against his cheek and he winced, drawing back slightly. When he tried again, forcing himself through the pain, his fingertips came back bloody. Brilliant. One more thing to deal with… And he knew for a fine fact that he didn't bring the usual amount of supplies with him, because this was supposed to be an in-and-out job.

His gaze landed on the wreckage of the facility that he'd just escaped from. Part of him seemed to have some instinct to look for survivors, but he knew that, unless they'd escaped like him, there wasn't a chance they'd survive under that much debris. He hauled himself to his feet and started to run a survey to the best of his ability, while trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the way his face muscles were twitching in an attempt to alleviate the tension caused by the wound.

"No…"

A building in shambles, barely identifiable beyond the rubble. Owen could do nothing but stare at it, as he forced himself not to cave. His knees were shaking, his eyes stinging from the anger, the guilt and the grief that racked him all at once.

He was alone.

He was the only one to have made it out on time.

Upon the realisation of that fact, he screamed into the echoing mess of the old facility. His nerves won over, and he collapsed to his knees, gripping the sleeves of his jacket like his life depended on it. Nobody else survived. Nobody could see him right now, taking his pain out on a pile of broken bricks.

"NO! CURT!"

But still, there was no response to his cry. The world breathed in Owen's stead, for he was struggling to keep his in check. This wasn't like him at all. He was supposed to know how to keep himself together. He was supposed to stay composed; god forbid that's how everyone saw him anyway.

Owen Carvour, who never lost his cool under pressure. Owen Carvour, who had a comment for everything and a cool head to combat trouble. Owen Carvour, who didn't know how to break.

"Fuck-" A sob left him, desperate and torn. His eyes met the rubble, the facility that had blown from the ground up, the place where Curt was lying dead. "FUCK! Mega, you're such a FUCKING IDIOT!"

He felt the heat in his throat. He'd ran himself hoarse in complete futility, screaming at the air, over something that he still hadn't begun to process.

For god's sake, he had to pull himself together. Where could he go from here? How did he declare to the Americans that their mission was a total failure, not only because they lost the blueprints they were supposed to acquire, but because their best agent just died in the field? This wasn't his mission, thank god. He was here as backup, it wasn't even fully under MI6 jurisdiction. All that meant was that he was lucky it wasn't him in that rubble… He'd have to pray that the fall would've killed him, or he knew for a fact that his agency would.

Hadn't Curt's scientist associate said she wasn't far away? A few miles… What did that give him?

There was a port a few miles away…

Without trying to think about any other alternative there might be, he let himself start running. He ran down the street, knowing only the vague direction that the port was in. The only reason he'd known about it's existence at all was because he'd caught a glimpse of it as he came into town.

Eventually, the paved road gave way to something less level, and he paused, looking past the high walls and straight into the marina. That had taken… Longer than he'd expected, but he had never had the reason to fault his sense of direction before, and he'd been right in trusting at least that part of himself this time too.

Thing was, he only knew this woman by her surname. Apparently, he was driven enough that he didnt care, and he walked the length of the marina trying to call after her.

"… Agent Carvour?"

A voice drew him out of his search, and completely startled him in the process. He turned around, wide eyed, and laid eyes on a short, blonde woman standing a couple of feet away from him. But her voice sounded familiar enough that he was able to recognise her without ever having seen her face.

"Oh my-" He breathed, beyond the point of pretending that he wasn't afraid, or heartbroken in equal measure.

"You were asking after me?"

"Doctor Larvernor…"

Her brow furrowed. "What happened to you? You sound… Rough. And… where's Curt?"

"I sound what-" He blinked. Just saying those words out loud had made him realise exactly what she was talking about. "Shit. I didn't even realise…" But it was true. Through his hoarse voice and the absolute multitude of stress that had piled on his shoulders in the last minutes, he had barely noticed that he had slipped back into the accent he'd upheld until he was a teenager. He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. It's fine… I'm fine- I'm still bleeding…"

"At least stay for long enough to let me look at that for you?"

"Oh- uh, you don't have to, doctor…"

"Call me Barb, Agent… Everyone else does," She smiled a little, maybe offering a slight of comfort along the way.

"Barb…" He nodded. Then he met her gaze, and in return, offered, "call me Owen. Please."

"Come with me, Owen."

She led him to where she'd been staying for the duration of Curt's mission. He had to duck to get through the door, but it was considerably roomier on the inside. She motioned for him to make himself comfortable, and he took a rather awkward seat on the first chair that he saw. Immediately, she busied herself with getting some supplies, and he brushed his hair back from his face so that she could have as much access as possible to the gash on his cheek.

"What happened there?"

"Debris, I think. Somethin' hit me in the face. I am fine, you- you needn't worry…"

She waved a hand dismissively. "You get used to patching up agents when you do it as a side job… It's nothing."

"You- uh- you asked about Curt… That's why I came looking for you, actually."

Barb stopped mid way through picking up her supplies from the table where she'd laid them, and frowned briefly. Her silence was a good indicator for him to continue, and he chose to do so as an ample distraction for the gravel he could feel delved into his skin.

"First of all, the blueprints are gone. They were- god" He winced involuntarily, and Barb's hand drew back.

"Sorry, sorry…"

He screwed his eyes shut. If he had a reaction after that, it wouldn't be so severe. "They were destroyed when the facility went up…"

Barb frowned. She knew that it had been a risky move to let Curt off with blowing up the facility, that man was too reckless for his own good sometimes…

"… Along with him."

The world went silent. Barb felt her chest ache, and realised she'd been holding her breath. "What?" She prayed he didn't mean what she thought he meant.

Owen hadn't come to terms with it yet, and at the rate things were going, he wasn't sure if he ever would. But, he had to admit it one way or another. It wouldn't be awfully fair if he was the only one who knew of Curt's fate, and then he went off the grid too… He heaved a sigh, trying not to let his reactions break the mask that hid his true feelings. He couldn't handle the weight of the world if they knew about them.

"Curt, he's… He's dead, Barb. He fell. I didn't- I couldn't- save him in time."

[captain-lovelace]

Leaked still from upcoming found footage horror movie The Haunting of Jeremy Elbertson REAL NOT CLICKBAIT

[okayto]

I'm in a reference class right now and I just get so irrationally angry about the requirements.

Like, obviously, the purpose of the class is to make sure all the theoretically-future (or sometimes current) librarians know how to actually look things up AND verify sources AND in a wide variety of subjects and topics. Yes, good, valuable, important.

BUT I hate it so much. I hate questions that sound like they came from an alien whose best human impression comes from old chatbots: "Who is Zora Neale Hurston? What is she known for? Does Sparkle Library have any of her books?" why are you asking the first two questions if you clearly know them enough to ask the third "What's this geologic feature I saw in town? What's its history? Where is it?" can I point you to Google Maps please "What is the meaning of the word fandom?" why am I required to find you four verified resources on a dictionary definition "Can you help me find articles about this topic" yes but our professor hasn't actually given us examples of how they'd 'verify' articles so IDK if this will work even though it's literally exactly how I'd do this in my actual library job where I provide reference services to college students.

[blackbackedjackal]

I hate this new wave of impossibility with shelters

When my cat cookie had her last oops litter we tried to surrender them to the local shelter cause we figured theyd find homes easier that way BUT the shelter wanted $400 per kitten plus several "interviews" with the kittens over the course of like 3 months before they would even think of taking them, and if they decided against taking the kittens you were down $400x however many kittens (in my case it would of been $1200) and the kittens would be like 6 months old and at that point you might as well just keep them all and get them all desexed instead of taking them to the pound to surrender them at all

We ended up rehoming them via facebook and two of them went to the same home a week apart

They...wanted you to pay $400 to surrender animals to them??? That alone is insane but an extended interview period with the kittens as well? Are they applying to work there like what the fuck?

[sailforvalinor]

Winry: “All this time…have I been…falling for him?”

Me: *apparates in the train car next to her* *shaking her by the shoulders* “YES YES GIRL YOU HAVE”

[trans-axolotl]

What is harm reduction outreach? I saw you mention it in a post.

Sure!

So I do outreach through an org in my city that provides harm reduction services to people who use drugs and sex workers. We have specific areas of the city that we go to on specific days, and also do deliveries. We also do at least one overnight shift a week to be able to better provide services to sex workers. For outreach, we hand out safer use supplies including needles, sharps bins, tourniquets, cookers, sterile water, stems, Narcan, fentanyl test strips, condoms, lube, bad date sheets, wound care supplies, food, water, etc. We also try to help provide people referrals to services like HIV and Hep C care, share what resources in the city are trans friendly and how to navigate social services with the least bullshit, and also provide peer support and harm reduction education to help people have all the information they need to make choices, and help reduce risk.

It's really important to us that we are not acting like exploitative nonprofits that come in, hoard resources, and expect people to be grateful. outreach is pretty much done entirely by people who are also drug users and sex workers. We are also really involved in local advocacy--we participate in a decriminalization campaign, a drug users union, and a sex work advocacy coalition. and i think nonprofits and government attempts to coopt harm reduction are so fucked up and actively harmful--you can't do harm reduction without also fighting to abolish the oppressive systems that are targeting drug users and sex workers. we have a lot of ties to the community that we're doing harm reduction in--for most of us it just is our community + neighborhoods lmao, and we make sure that we're always getting feedback, respecting autonomy and consent, and building mutual relationships. we've been around for a while and do have a lot of community trust, but we always want to be making sure we're respecting what people want and need instead of coming in with ideas about what services + supplies they want.

anyway. harm reduction is so fucking important to me and it's not just like, something i do to like, build my resume or to try to "save people." i'm a former sex worker and when i first started doing sex work, i didn't have any information, community, or access to anything that would have helped me to be able to work safer. it fucked me up pretty bad and i survived a lot of violence. i wish so fucking badly i had all those things, and it's super important to me to try to build community, care for each other, resist fucked up systems and protect each other.

[febuwhump]

Saw the prompt list from a mutal and didn't even consider the "bees" prompt was not 100% serious until I visited this blog as I have apiphobia/melissophobia(fear of bees) so bees are a geuinely horrible and scary thing to me. Also if you want to see a really fucked up story about bees, watch the black mirror episode "hated in the nation". It gave genuine nightmares for weeks and still gives me chills to this day.

lol i think i assosciate bees with good! cute! makin honey! and so i always thought it was silly, but i've seen a lot of people come out saying how serious their fear of bees is and how its a serious prompt like the rest

which is great!

i think i saw that a kajillion years ago but the admin of the blog has a controversial opinion which is like....... most black mirror episodes aren't interesting lol

[spottedenchants]

**CR C3 Spoilers** So I was just reading “Just a Little Bit Longer, Love” in your TS series and in Chapter 3, when Essek’s teasing Caleb with all the names of his many aliases/disguises, you included: “Maybe Journey, or Seth?” Did you… did you somehow PREDICT his Cobalt Soul disguise???! 👀

okay short answer: no, not really xD

Seth (the name) is 100% from C3 ep94, and TS!Essek has had a Cobalt Soul persona in the bg of the the series for (irl) years. 'Prediction' feels like it requires some narrative foresight- I just wanted to make Essek do some community service xD

long answer with its own tl;dr:

One thing I like about fanfic is that it's a very fluid medium. One thing I like about writing TS as a non-chronological series is that fluidity is inherent to the 'overarching' story I am telling- it's like revisiting and revising memories. I'd like to think of TS as being canon-adjacent or canon-compatible, and I do on occasion edit minor details when something comes up in CR canon that I would like to include in the series. For example, the Nein Heroez is destroyed in Mighty Nein Reunited, so I went back through the series and renamed the ship to the Nein Heroez II because I thought the original getting destroyed was interesting while also still being very fond of its name.

'Seth' is not a name I came up with as an alias for Essek- that 100% came from C3 ep94. In fact, the original name I had there in Just a Little Bit Longer, Love was 'Tristan', an alias I have never used in TS save for that singular instance and thus far have not even drafted/planned anything for beyond a rough concept you can find on this post here.

THAT SAID (<- getting excited)

For the longest time, I have had TS!Essek doing Cobalt Soul work alongside Beauregard and Caleb in the background of the series (in the bg because idk how to write the work he is doing in an interesting way yet) and I am absolutely thrilled that Essek might be pursuing a similar path by 843 PD in CR canon AND that other people seem enthused about the idea too!

'Seth' as a concept (divorced from Cobalt Soul things) has helped me work through some open-ended tangles I've been picking at in my WIP pile for ages, such as Arc 2 TS!Essek being displeased when maintaining his persona of Phillip Sommer for prolonged periods of time. Phillip Sommer was drafted to be TS!Essek's main face in the Empire and thus his Cobalt Soul persona. However, all of TS!Essek's personas are gifted by his friends, kindly, yes, but gifted just the same, and that means none of them are Him- they don't look like him, their names don't sound like his, they are Different People. So 'Seth' slots in very nicely and I am Very excited to carve into TS!Essek's sense of self as it relates to 'Seth'.

TL;DR: While I do edit minor details like Tristan -> Seth, I am and have been a staunch supporter of Essek working with the Cobalt Soul for A While and I am so very excited to see others warm up to the concept so readily :D

[vigilantejustice]

need to dust + declutter my room in a major way but have not been able to come up with even a crumb of motivation to do little else but bed rot :(