#i named him after one of the second doctor's companions since he technically started out as a star trek au for the tenth doctor

[feydfuckernation]

Hey cutie!! ☺️ I've been fixated on Spock lately, I'd love to see a sketch of him from you if you feel up to it! 🖤

steph you had absolutely no way of knowing this but i actually have a star trek oc that i was JUST thinking about so i decided to draw him with spock! he can't seem to figure out how to do the vulcan salute tho...

request one here! (accepting 2-3 more)

[simplegenius042]

The True Sinners & The House Always Wins?

Ask and you shall receive @carlosoliveiraa!

The House Always Wins is a Fallout New Vegas fic and part of my Fallout series A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore. Here's what I have so far... It takes place a few years after the events of The Waters Of Life Flow (the FO3 fic), and half-human/half-dimensional creature hybrid siblings Ortega "Ore" Brantley and Marissa "Ress" Bishop have been tipped off about atypical activities happening in the Mojave, not dissimilar from the Occult's activities their despicable father, Arcane Urias, lead in the Capital Wasteland and California. Seeing this as an opportunity to put a stop to the Occult and avenge their friends and Urias' victims. However, this is put on hold when they encounter a securitron with a cowboy's face dragging an unconscious Courier through the scorching desert. With no place better to start searching for clues, they help get the Courier, a veteran Wasteland woman named Ryder, to Goodsprings.

Now I don't have any snippets prepared for you, but I can share that Ress and Ore split off to cover more ground; Ore will accompany Ryder to track down Benny, retrieve the Platinum Chip, speak with Mr House, get wrapped up in dealing with the Legion, and win Hoover Dam for House (plus attain any companions along the way) while Ress goes off to track down the Occult by doing the thing she loves most; intimidating the shit out of the locals in the communities she visits, killing people she doesn't like the faces of, bullying the elderly, get wrapped up in doing the NCR's bidding, almost die, then working alongside Yes Man for an Independent Vegas (plus pressuring any companions she meets into following her). All the while Urias second-in-command, Aggravor, chills in the Divide while coordinating efforts to place a warhead into the dam. If only the pesky courier with the mask and long speeches of "something, something, bull, bear" would let him get the location of the remote that originally set off the Divide.

Now The True Sinners is a FC5 fic where it takes place in an alternative setting of Far Cry The Silver Chronicles where Silva Omar's grief still remained long enough to dissuade her from becoming a deputy of the Hope County Sheriff's Department. Without a "muse", especially one chosen by the Voice itself, the Seals can't be opened, and the Collapse can't occur, and the Voice is livid that its muse has decided to opt out. Instead of wasting time in choosing another poor sap (especially since it has history with this one), the Voice instead just re-contextualizes the muse's purpose to Joseph, leading to the Seed Family kidnapping Silva in the dead of night so she can be present for the arrest and still break the First Seal (by technicality). Silva has to balance helping the Resistance from the inside and getting into the Seeds' good graces without sacrificing her morals and values in the process. In the meantime, Silva's (personal? family?) doctor, Kamski Neon, ends up helping to lead the Resistance to rescue the only other person he knew from the Archipelagos, and while great at organization and treating wounds, he is not very popular amongst the locals. Case in point, the snippet below:

Kamski entered the bar, moving ahead to the nearest stool, leaving Armstrong to her own devices outside. He was not unaware of the gazes that were set on him, eyes watching as he steadily sat himself in front of the bar's counter.

Like buitres, Kamski couldn't help but compare the locals to the scavengers. He disliked the bird, more than the eagles that dived at him when he took Silva's invitation into the county, but he understood their importance, despite the little pragmatism they held.

He brought a flask out of his satchel, unlatching the lid to take a swig. He took another swig as soon as he spotted the Pastor making his way toward him.

"Why?"

Kamski lazily glanced to Jeffries, spotting Fairgrave leaning against the wall next to the stairway, watching the confrontation like most of her patrons.

The Good Doctor sighed, scratching at his sideburns, the red in his hair slowly on it's way to becoming white, and asked his own question, "What is the meaning behind this "why", Pastor?"

Kamski took another swig, but found no bitterness reaching his tongue. Upon further inspecting the flask, shaking it about with no signature swish nor swirl, Kamski was disappointed that he'd be dealing with this conversation on a sober mind.

Jeffries took a breath, but his frustration made its way to the tone of his voice, "Why did you kill that man?"

Kamski raised a brow at the Pastor, "You mean the Peggie?"

"A former Peggie. A defector. One who would have exchanged information on John's supply chains, coordination of future attacks, and his next baptisms," Jeffries emphasized, "And you executed him."

Kamski blinked at the Pastor, giving a shrug, "Your point?"

As the old doctor shifted to slide off the stool, Jeffries grasped his shoulder, grounding out his next words with a solemner tone, "Even if it meant losing information regarding Silva's current captivity."

Kamski growled at him, shoving the arm off his shoulder, "I didn't just kill the Peggie. I got information out of him before I gave him what he deserved. It would have been counterproductive to not retrieve whatever information he held, just as it would have been for going through with the escort."

He pulled out a note and slammed it onto the counter.

"Here's all he had. None of it included Silva, by name nor description," Kamski stated.

Kamski made to move but Jeffries stated, "You still killed a man who wanted to change. A way out."

The Good Doctor scoffed, shaking his head at the Pastor's words. He doesn't understand. None of them would. These peggies don't get the right to attempt a vain ploy to change. Not after all they've done. All they do nothing about. It just makes it easier for them to stab us in the back.

He dragged his hand over his face, a fingers rubbing against the scar that crosses the ridge of his nose. His thumb traced the the cut that crossed his bottom lip down to his chin, a reminder that fueled his next response.

"Then he should have never listened to the words of that Profeta," Kamski replied, making his way towards the exit of the bar, ignoring the deep sigh behind him.

"Armstrong," Kamski greeted the sharpshooter at the porch, who only gave a grunt in acknowledgement as she tended to her rifle, "You know where the Jailhouse is?"

Armstrong stopped wiping the barrel, looking up to the doctor, "My pops drove past it sometimes when he was running errands for some old war friends of his. Hard to miss."

"Excellent," Kamski smirked, turning towards the sedan limousine he stole, "Because I'm going to need directions."

[okay-j-hannah]

Hii hannah!! It's me, the mysterious anon and I'm officially done with not just my exams but highschool! I got my results back few days ago and im surprised i almost got all As because during the last three exams I was literally reading will turner and lotr fanfictions more than my textbooks lmao 😭

And can I just say you're so so sweet and ilysm !!! tysm for accepting my request, can't wait to see how you are gonna write them! although, do remember to write it with your own pace, you don't have to feel obligated to finish it and post it asap (and this goes to all the requests you've gotten) we know you're a human being too with your own things in your daily life and ofc we acknowledge and respect that, that's the least we can do when you actually take time out of your life and accept to write our requests <333

I know I said it in the last ask I sent you but thank you so so much for accidently introducing me to will turner, remember how I fell down the rabbit hole? it seems i am still falling, but now in another rabbit hole named lord of the rings; yes I joined the lotr fandom! i was lookin for more orlando bloom movies and found out he played legolas and I started the series just for him lol,, really though the lotr universe is so beautiful!! ive always loved fantasy universes but was too lazy to actually start something classic like lotr but now that i've done it im feeling the hyperfixation literally running through my veins!! I ordered silmarillion and im like this close to ordering all the books in Tolkien legendarium even though im nearly broke lmao. and my bi ass is in love with everyone, especially the elves, came just for legolas but staying for all the tolkien elves and faramir, eowyn, sam and aragorn 😭 really though, I have barely read silmarillion yet i am in love with elves like ecthelion and glorfindel too 😭

i can't wait read more of your lotr work, so far, I've only read haldir fic (it was so cute!) and hobbit/doctor who one and im in love with that one!! i spend so much of my time thinking what if I were to accidently end up in my current hyperfixation universe. will I survive actually? Will I even be able to make eye contact with my comfort characters, or speak to them? unless somehow I get some kind of superpowers or immortality, i would likely die in the first fifteen minutes for sure haha. can't wait to read the second part of that story and how doctor fits into the story! Also mgime trope is actually so fun to read! after this one, I went to ao3 for more and im so in love with this trope im thinking about writing one myself! 

Just realising, It's funny thing, joining new fandom tbh ; i remember scrolling through your page in March and i had no idea who any of the lotr characters or potc characters were but now im in love with the lotr&potc universe and its all i can think about. do you mind, if i ask you how do you balance fandoms thing? you're in so many fandoms and i always wonder how you love them/give them time equally even after having so many other fandoms. in recent years I've joined many fandoms but every time I join a new one, i start loving the new one so much i  completely stop even thinking bout the old one. and it's incredibly silly i know but I feel like I'm betraying/cheating my old fandom and my comfort characters in a way by hyperfixating on whatever my current fandom is. 

Speaking of hyperfixations, also so so excited for David tennant in the 60th specials!! And donna n wilf!! I too will have to finish 13's episodes before November though. btw did you see the bts pictures of 15 and the new companion Ruby? It seems like we're gonna get good history episodes with the new doctor !! 

Oh also!! It's been officially a year since I started reading your fics! And today 29 May actually marks the day(technically night ig) I read the last parts of dying girl series. I still remember that day, I had finished watching stranger things' then new episodes, I was already crying because of The max and vecna episode and I decided to torture myself more by reading the series and cried more lmao.

Ahh cant believe its been a year, i remember being anxious to send you my request and all those asks and now I am actually talking to you! I am so glad I decided to check out your blog last May, one of the best decision ive made! If it werent for you, i probably would've never further watched doctor who, or started potc and lotr/hobbit series and just Tolkien's work tbh. Ik I've said it a lot of times but really though, thank you so much for introducing me to all these movies, shows, books and ofc, your writing. I've loved every single second I've spent on your blog and while watching these tv and movie series, idk how to exactly word this because english isn't my first language, but the time spent on your blog and while watching the shows/movies really is best time I've spent in my boring life, I've felt more alive doing that than I actually had while living my "life". 

Oh and I'm glad you had fun writing my domestic fic request! I would also love to read about the reader and doctors' in between adventures, hope you write about it and honestly, I'd love to read whatever you write, even if it isn't full fics, just random stuff like headcanons or draft ideas you had! And I would request bout it but I've already requested two fics and honestly, my brain feels too disconnected from the fic to give you ideas kinda stuff for the fic. I guess, its time to reread the series ; I hope I can get through it this time without crying though 😭

I still haven't finished watching all the potc movies, only two or three because I got into lotr, but more will turner content from you? So excited!! And yeah It is surprising that I haven't watched the movies because they are classic! but they actually came out before I was born/when I was really young so I didn't get to watch them at that time, plus movies, especially from outside my country weren't as accessible so my brain focused on what I had, the barbie and disney movies and tv cartoons.

Sometimes I honestly can't believe that all the movies/TV series I'm hyperfixating over came out so long ago and that I am watching and obsessing over them after like 15-20 years, that really is a lot of time! but tbh, I feel like this is how it was meant to be, yknow? I was meant to love these movies and characters rn, because maybe I needed them now more than I did back then. And as I said, I was barely a kid and didn't even speak English language, even if I did get to watch all the movies I don't think I'd even understand them lol. 

Oh and I too love the pen pal things we have going, it's fun, isn't it? Really sorry for replying months late though, i wanted to write earlier but I have executive dysfunction so it's really hard to do even the simplest of things😭 next time i'll try not to be months late lol.

I just realised I wrote a lot lol, Thank you for reading the whole rambling, I hope the whole thing doesn't seem too diorganised to read . And yeah, Bye! hope you have good day/night or whatever time of the day you're reading this at<333

Hello mysterious anon!

I think our trend will now be just randomly replying to each other every few months because 100% we both have busy lives.

I feel weirdly proud to have instigated some of your new fandom hyperfixations, I am so obsessed with too many. It is really hard to spread all my love/attention to so many.

I think I look at it like phases. I will always return to my old loves, but depending on my mood or phase in life I'm drawn to a certain fandom. I started rewatching Criminal Minds a while ago and got so reinvested in the show that I started writing a series with Spencer Reid {it's like 21k words right now and I haven't decided if I'm posting it or not}

And I started watching The Crown, so I've fully entered another time period phase and I want to watch all things Jane Austen. I read Sense and Sensibility recently because of it. I think I'm going to watch Little House on the Prairie for the time period drama. I might watch Poldark or Outlander or Vikings for the same reason.

I agree it's hard to move on to another fandom when you feel you're neglecting the others. I try to refresh my brain of my old favorites, like I remember the day I mixed up Death Eaters and Dementors and I felt so ashamed that I reread the whole Harry Potter series just to remind myself.

I guess I just do my best to acknowledge all of them and then be patient when I'm fixating on only one in particular. I find a balance when I'm writing fics about them because I'll rewatch something so I can get a feel for the characters before I write about them. But sometimes it is hard to write a request for a character that I am not currently obsessed with.

I'm glad you passed your classes and are hopefully moving on to bigger and better things {I know you are fandom wise}. I haven't been writing much the last year, but I do still check my activity frequently. We'll see what and when I'll decide to post next.

But for now, I wish you luck in life and hopefully the comfort you'll get from your new potc and lotr friends will get you through some of the tough times.

💜 Hannah

[melancholydreadfuldream]

find me gone

Fandom: Doctor Who

Summary: The Doctor has gone missing for twenty years. You tried to find him in order to free mankind from the Time Lords.

  Warning: OOC, dark doctor, plot holes as usual, etc.

   It has been twenty years since the Doctor went missing. It has been twenty years since mankind is enslaved by the survivors of Gallifrey, a bunch of jackass Time Lord, whom according to the Doctor, was one of the founding father family of Gallifrey, the Bloodworth. 

  They are dangerous, insane and cruel. They invaded Earth in disguise of distress call from their crash-landing Tardis. UNIT and Torchwood calling the Doctor for help to figure it out and ended up leading the Doctor into a trap.

  The Bloodworth hated the Doctor for his part in destroying their home planet. The Doctor was giddy having not being the only Time Lord left in the universe and that happiness was short-lived when he found out who the survivors are. He was not above, to grovel for their forgiveness and explained his reasoning for destroying Gallifrey. 

  It has become apparent they won't see reason and hell-bent on revenge against the Doctor. The destruction of Gallifrey happened so long ago and the Doctor has come to term with it but to the Bloodworth, what happened to Gallifrey still fresh within their memories. 

 The Tardis they used to escape when opened are filled with amber, a sort of protective shield to contain or isolate time distortion. Apparently, their Tardis got damaged during escape and they use amber to contain it but something goes wrong and the Bloodworth ended up caught within the amber too. 

  The Doctor was able to figure out how to freed the occupants of the Tardis from the amber. The Bloodworth were preserved within the amber as exactly as they were, not aging, however, the amber damaged most of their brains and they have to regenerate in order to survive. The Doctor tried to aid them, saving their life. And yet, it wasn't enough. When they regained themselves, the first thing they do is turn against the Doctor.

  Knowing about Earth being like the Doctor's second home, the Bloodworth wanted to take over Earth for their own purpose. Although these past twenty years, the Time Lord did improve Earth's technology and 'protected' Earth from invasion by any other alien species. There were, of course, resistance against the Bloodworth at the beginning but it was futile. Like the Doctor warned, they were vicious and not above using threat, torture and kill to squash down the resistance.

  UNIT and Torchwood were destroyed like it was nothing. One of the Bloodworth was a mad scientist and was able to create some sort of machine which turned most of mankind docile enough to accept them and sort of mind-controlled the world's armies into their personal soldiers.

  Jack Harkness, the Doctor's former companion, was able to escape the hunt. Most of the Doctor's former companions are hunted as they were deemed too dangerous and to be converted with the machine to ensure their loyalty are no longer with the Doctor. Those who refused gets executed or worst become the subject of cruel experiments by the mad scientist.

  You were the Eleventh Doctor's current companion after the Ponds. You were properly scared at the reality falling apart before you. The Doctor is the Earth's defender. Who would have thought that he would be the reason for the mankind's downfall? He brought the Time Lord's most vicious wrath down on Earth.

  It was a complete chaos at the times and you got separated from the Doctor but you were rescued by Jack. You never saw the Doctor again.

  You sighed as you pulled your smartphone and play the last voicemail from the Doctor.

  "I'm sorry to have to leave you, (name). I need you to be brave. You have to lay low, don't get on their bad sides. Don't fight them. Relents with all their demands, renounce me as your enemy to please them. I have to go away for a while. I have hidden the Tardis somewhere the Time Lords can't reach. They must not get their hands on my Tardis. They can't track me, (name), I can't get to the Tardis to use chameleon arch. I'm taking the same play as them. Remember, don't fight them. When it is safe to do so, I have instructed my Tardis to locate you and you will find some instruction and hints of where to find me. When you do, you will need some help to free me. But for now, you have to forget these voicemail. Jack will get you a memory worm for it. Stick with him if you can. And, (name), I know you are scared. Be brave. I know you can do this. I have faith in you."

  And it has been twenty years. Clearly, the Doctor put his faith in the wrong companion. You have no idea how to do this. When the Tardis finally came for you and you get your memory back of the voicemail and finding the instruction left behind by the Doctor, you frantically trying to figure it all out. You have lived in bliss full ignorance after the memory worm while Jack is off somewhere you have no idea. The Bloodworth clearly thought you are no longer a friend of the Doctor considering you being docile with their assimilation on Earth.

  You were able to find your way into the resistance, or what was left of it. Jack has disappeared sometimes years ago. He used to be the leader of the resistance. He was able to undo some of the brain-washing of the people he need help from. You met a Clara Oswald, a genius in her own right, and together you tried to figure out the Doctor's location. It took years when you finally able to piece the Doctor's location.

  The Doctor has put himself within the amber in order to avoid detection from the other Time Lords. You glanced at the Doctor's form within the amber as the scientists within the resistance worked on the amber based on what you remembered of how the Doctor freed the Bloodworth which honestly you don't know much. The Doctor's technology babbles always goes over your head. 

  Luckily, you and Clara were able to recruit more scientists, well, technically you both kidnapped them, undo their brainwashing and have them help you figure out how to get the Doctor out of the amber.

  It was such a huge relief when they were able to freed the Doctor from the amber. The Doctor was disoriented and confused. The bright side, he did recognize you and he happily hugged you.

  "Oh, you are exactly as I remembered you to be. I missed you, (name)." He hugged you, spun you around and hugged you some more. "I always knew you could do it."

  You grimaced. "I miss you too, Doctor, but I'm sorry I took years to find you."

  "That's okay. You are only human. I still knew you could do it. Well, eventually."

  You glared at the Doctor between annoyance and fondness.

  Clara watched you two with amusement before she introduced herself. "I'm Clara Oswald. I have heard so much about you, Doctor."

  The Doctor beamed at her and much to your dismay, those two started to flirt with each other. 

  You pulled the Doctor away from his awkward flirting and asked him to focus. You and Clara then filled him in about the past twenty years. 

  The Doctor nodded and started to work on a technology to improve the resistance's defense. But he suddenly groaned in pain as he fell down to the floor. 

  You dashed forward to try to aid him. "Doctor..."

  "Oh no...I have a brain damage..." The Doctor moaned, nose bleeding.

  You gasped as you recalled that the Bloodworth themselves have to regenerate after they got out of the amber. The Doctor has explained in passing what regeneration is to the Time Lord. "Do you have to regenerate?" You asked fearfully. You just got him back and now he has to change himself. You really didn't want him to change yet.

  The Doctor glanced at you in sorrow, noticing your reluctant. "I have to. My brain is no longer good enough. I will need to be at my best if we are to free the Earth from them." He said. 

  "I wish we have more time..." You whispered as tears filled your eyes.

  The Doctor smiled wistfully. "I will still be me. I will still be the Doctor, just a bit different. I will still need you." he said as he caress your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb. "Will you still stay by my side after this?" He asked, pleading you with his sad eyes.

  You nodded. 

  He beamed happily at your answer as his face and hands started to glow in regeneration energy. He asked you to give him space for the regeneration to take place.

  You stared at him, wanting to memorize this version of the Doctor.

  He smiled at you. "Be brave." He said. 

  You have no idea if he said that for you or for himself.

  Then he exploded.

  An old man with impressive angry eyebrows glanced at back you.

  You blinked at him in daze. "Doctor?"

  "Who are you?" He asked you.

  You stared at him in disbelief. "It's me, (name)." But he already not listening to you as he started to ramble really fast at himself.

  "I need to do something. What was it?" The Doctor muttered to himself. Then he has some 'aha' moment, pulled his sonic screwdriver and somehow summon the Tardis.

  Clara finally spoke up. "He just regenerated. The Time Lord probably has some sort technology to detect that energy, we need to leave here immediately."

  The Doctor look impressed with her. "You, funny nose, with me, in the box." He said.

  Clara touched her nose, not sure to be offended or not. But she shrugged and followed him inside the Tardis.

  You followed them inside the Tardis. The Doctor was already on the console, pushing some buttons. Clara is admiring the inside of the Tardis.

  "Wait, what about the others?" You asked.

  "What about them?" The Doctor asked nonchalantly.

  You and Clara exchanged glances in confusion.

  "We should evacuate them inside here."

  "No. I don't trust them. And we don't have time. The Time Lords are already coming." The Doctor said firmly.

  "But they risked their lives for you!!" You yelled at him.

  "And I'm thankful but I still don't trust them." The Doctor replied, snapping his fingers to close down the door.

  You and Clara about to protest some more but both were knocked around as the Tardis launched into the time vortex.

  "Where are we going?" Clara asked the Doctor.

  You didn't listen as you stared at the Doctor. You couldn't believe he had left those people behind. You wondered if this Doctor still have some brain damage from the amber. Where is his compassion?

  The Doctor seemed to get along well with Clara, sharing his plan with her, trying to impress her and practically ignoring you.

  To be honest, the new Doctor's indifference frightened you, reminded you that he is a Time Lord too. The way he acted just now, he is just like the Bloodworth. However, for some reason, Clara is hanging onto his every words. You wondered if he put a spell on her or something.

  The Doctor has changed into a new outfit, something a kin to Victorian suit which compliment his appearance. He look like a gentleman if not for his cold demeanor. Yet for some reason, he directed his cold demeanor to you. 

  He is not touchy-feely to Clara either but he treated her better than he did you.

  He was the one who ask you to stay with him so why is he being such a jerk to you?

  Before you could confront him about it, loud alarm sounded within the Tardis as the Doctor cussed saying that the other Time Lords has found them.

  The Doctor was able to evade the attack from the other Time Lord's Tardis. He was somehow able to maneuver his Tardis into cornering the other Tardis into a nearby black hole which ate and ripped the said Tardis. But the Doctor rescued the occupant inside, transporting him into his Tardis and immediately incapacitate him as soon as he appeared inside.

  The Time Lord, Finn, he claimed, glared at the Doctor menacingly.

  The Doctor stared him down, not impressed.

  True to his villain model, Finn even has a villain monologue about how the others are coming, that the Doctor can't win, etc, etc.

  The Doctor hushed him much to his annoyance as he shot down every words he has next. "I only want to know one thing from you." He said. "What did you do to (name)?"

  "What?" Clara blurted out, confused.

  "Who?" Finn asked, also confused.

  You blinked at the Doctor, wondering if the Doctor's brain does not regenerate as it should with the body. "Doctor, I am right here." 

  The Doctor ignored you in favor of staring at Finn.

  Finn glanced at you and then at the Doctor. 

  "Doctor!" You yelled at him. "You are scaring me!"

  The Doctor faltered just a bit before firmly stared at Finn. "Well?" He raised his impressive eyebrows at him.

  Finn snorted. "Am I supposed to know who (name) is?" He said in bored tone.

  "You should, considering she is the only reason I rescued you. Would you prefer I send you back to your Tardis?" The Doctor said in cold calmness.

  Finn frowned. "You would kill a fellow Time Lord for a mere human?"

  The Doctor only shrugged.

  "Doctor!! Look at me!" You yelled.

  "No!" The Doctor suddenly yelled back, surprising you and Clara. He finally turned to look at you. "You are not...." He is losing his composure. 

  He turned away from you, unable to look at you anymore. "It took me a while to realize. Mind still scrambled from being inside the amber. It has been twenty years." He said. He turned at you again, suddenly grabbed your arms. "It has been twenty years, (name)."

  You were properly scared at his reaction. Tears filled your eyes. You wondered if the new Doctor is angry at you for failing him for twenty years. "Doctor, I'm so..."

  "So, why do you look exactly the same?" The Doctor continued.

  You froze at that.

  Clara's eyes widened in alarm as she stared at you, bewildered.

  You glanced at the Doctor in daze before turning to your reflection reflected on the monitor at the console. Your mouth dropped open. How did you just now noticed it?

  "I forgot, you see, human lifespan, it's not long...and you aged with times...but, you, (name), you look exactly the same as you were twenty years ago." The Doctor said. 

  Finn glanced at you curiously. "I see, you are one of Frejya's pet project." He said.

  The Doctor snapped his attention back to Finn. "Frejya?" He paled. "What did she do to my companion?"

  Finn smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

  "I really do want to know." The Doctor said flatly.

  "What am I?" You asked the Doctor. "Doctor, what happened to me? Why am I...?"

  Clara rushed toward you when she saw you in such distress, rubbing your back.

  "You are a clone of (name) (last name)." The Doctor said. "You probably have all her memories too except the few they erased. They have been using you to track me."

  "Quite boring too, waiting for you to resurface again, Doctor. We knew you would come back for her, for the people of Earth. Your so called companion mostly are from Earth after all. I'm guessing (name) here is your last companion before you went into hiding." Finn said, finally understanding.

  Clara look horrified. "But that meant the Time Lords knew about the resistance..."

  Finn scoffed. "Of course we know. You lot are hardly a threat. We could squash you anytime we want. We even let you 'rescue' those scientists etc." He said, looking bored. "We want to know what you lot are up to. We know you would eventually led us to him." He glanced at the Doctor.

  The Doctor glared at Finn. "What happened to the real (name) (last name)?"

  The other Time Lord. "Oh, you know Frejya, Doctor, she always did damaged her toys a bit too fast and then throw them away like garbage." He said cruelly.

  The Doctor didn't speak for a while. He turned back to console, pushing some buttons. He glanced at Finn. "You better pray that is not the case." 

  Finn winced. "W-what did you do? Doctor, you can't..." He pleaded when he realized what the Doctor is up to. "You can't...send me back again...I will die..."

  You and Clara glanced at him in alarm before turning to look at the Doctor.

  "Doctor, what did you do?" Clara asked.

  "Doctor..." Before you can do anything, the Doctor pushes a button and Finn disappeared with a scream. You flinched. "Doctor, what did you do?" You asked, horrified.

  The Doctor ignored you, plotting a course somewhere.

  "Doctor, stop ignoring me! Look at me!" You pleaded.

  The Doctor glanced at you firmly but you noticed the pain in his eyes.

  "Doctor, did you ki-"

  "I send him to his death, yes. We have no time for more chit chat. The Time Lords know now that I am back." The Doctor said, stopping any words you have next. "I just declared a war with them when I send Finn to his death."

  "Where are we going?" Clara asked.

  "I have to make a preparation before the next play date with the Time Lords." He said coldly as he pulled a lever.

  He marched toward you, grabbed your arms firmly and glared at you with such cold fury. "I will come back for the rest of you."

  You blinked in confusion. The Doctor is talking to you but it is also like he is talking to someone in you.

  "I will descent hell upon you lot. I'm done playing nice. If I have to, I will make sure I will be the last Time Lord standing again."

  The Doctor touched a pulse on your neck and you fainted in his arms. The last thing you heard is Clara yelling for you.

  7777

  The monitor was shut down offline on its own.

  Frejya gasped in dismay, pushing some button to get the monitor back online but it was futile. She screamed in frustration. She turned to the other occupants in the room. "He killed Finn." She growled in fury.

  A young woman sighed in dismay. "I told Finn to wait. He was always so reckless."

  A man in suit stepped forward, pushing one hand on his pocket. He was calm as he glanced at the monitor, recalling the Doctor's declaration of war. He smirked. "Let him come. We need him anyway. Secure the Timeless Child at all cost."

     A/N: If you watch Fringe, you will recognized I borrowed the 'amber' from that TV series though the purpose probably all wrong? Anyway I'm just bullshitting my way with this too. Wish I'm a better writer who can make epic storyline but I'm just ordinary.  I suppose I'm done with this particular story. I am no good at making conflict for stories. The Doctor will most probably calling out his inner oncoming storm to the front to deal with the other Time Lords. Will the other Time Lords succeed in recapturing the Timeless Child? I guess nobody know because I don't know either. I suppose once again the version of the reader get the short straw again and be the reason of the Doctor turned dark. 

[doctenwho]

A Name For Kitty (NACP-pt2)

You asked, so you’ll recieve! I’ll be honest here though, I didn’t put a name on the cat in the first part because I had no clue what to name him-- picking names is definitely not my strong suit. So names I’ve put in this fic are from random naming site, names I stole from my friends cats and cats I know in real life.

If your cat is named one of the names in the fic, I mean no harm! They’re all cute names in their own way, I just needed to fill in the blanks!

Warning: None.

Word Count: 3,858

Summary: Check out the prompt!

(Not my gif, credit to the creator!)

“So,” you drew in the Doctor’s attention as you walked into the console room. As usual, the man’s eyes instantly fell from his control panel and landed on you for a brief second before he returned his attention. He was flying the TARDIS, so he really couldn’t take his attention away for too long.

“Yes?” he drawled, eyes back on the TARDIS controls. His tone was light, as it usually was whenever you’d surface from your room in the TARDIS.  

“Kitty still needs a name,” you explained easily, flopping onto the seat in the console room. At hearing the nickname you’d stuck the cat with over the past few days, the cat let out a soft purr noise and hopped down from where he’d been sitting beside the Doctor on the console.  

You smiled lightly as the cat jumped up on the chair beside you, and head butted your arm for attention, which you gladly gave him. The Doctor took a moment to pout at the loss of his friend beside him, but it didn’t last long, “a name? I thought you’d given him one?” The man glanced back at you, only to frown at your confused expression, “Kitty?”

“No,” you shook your head, “that’s just a nickname since he doesn’t have a name yet. He can’t be called kitty. That’s dumb. It’s like calling you Time-Lordy, or me humany. Besides the name Kitty for a cat is way overused, we should be more creative, don’t you think? He will be a space traveler too now.”

“Never call me Time-Lordy again,” the Doctor huffed, throwing a glare over his shoulder, “and while you’re at it, never call you, or any other human humany again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed, “it was just an example, they’re both dumb names no one would use to talk about us.”

“Uh huh,” the Doctor shook his head, “but I do see your point. So, what did you want to name him then? What will (Y/N)’s new feline companion be called?”

“He’s not just mine,” you frowned, petting the cat’s ears and listening to his calming purrs, “he’s both of ours. And it’s not fair that I’d get to name him. We should both agree on a name, and not you just agreeing because I like it. You’ve gotta like it too.”

“Really?” the Doctor perked up a little, “we’re both naming him? Like anything?”

“Well, yeah,” you smiled, “so long as we both agree. He does live here with the both of us. He already loves us both—he's definitely a joint cat. So, we’ll pick a name together.”

“I’ll need a bit to think about it,” the Doctor decided, turning his attention to you for just a second before he was back to controlling the TARDIS, “this is a lot of pressure. Any names you fancy currently?”

“Well,” you gave a small smile, “maybe Boots?”

“Boots?” the Doctor repeated with a raised eyebrow, “you want to name him Boots?”

“Yeah,” you frowned, “look at his little feet, they’re all white. He’s black, but all his feet are white. He’s almost wearing little boots.”

“Boots.” The Doctor repeated once more, trying the name out, “noh, I don’t like it.”

The man made a face like he’d bitten a lemon, “and isn’t that a bit like the name Kitty? Wouldn't that be like naming you shoes, or me fashionable coat based on what we were wearing?”

“Oh,” you huffed, “yeah, maybe... I guess so.”

“Besides,” the Doctor continued, “Boots doesn’t suit him. He’s a smart looking cat, he needs a smart name—something like... Pluto! Exemplary for a tiny space traveler, don’t you think?”

“No,” you laughed. The Doctor’s attention shot to you, eyebrows furrowed in offense, “you’re not naming our cat after a planet, Spaceman. Besides, Pluto isn’t even a planet anymore--”

“Pluto certainly is a planet,” the Doctor interrupted, crossing his arms across his chest, “I’ve been there. Definitely a planet, no matter what you humans like to think.”

“Fine, it’s not defined as a planet on earth anymore at least,” you relented, raising your hands in mock surrender, “anyways, we should think about his heritage on earth, right? He’s an earth cat, he should have an earth name—or maybe not something related directly to space.”

“Fine, fine,” the Doctor huffed, “not directly related, but I’ll still be looking for something that hints at space. He will be a space traveler, don’t forget. Earth heritage, but currently in space.”

“I won’t forget,” you laughed, scratching under the cat’s chin, which resulted in his purrs growing louder. The Doctor turned his attention back once more to smile fondly at the cat, “he’s our precious little space traveler.”

“Indeed he is. A fine little space traveler if I do say so myself,” the Doctor agreed, strutting towards the two of you to pet the cat’s head, pushing his ears back. “And I can say so.”

----

You sighed as you rested your back against the wall. Your hand was raised, cuffed to a bar that was slightly above you in the room-like cell you’d been put in. You were sitting on the floor, not really afraid, or put out by this hostage situation. You were inconvenienced if anything.  

The Doctor hadn’t been the least bit nervous when the two of you had been cuffed and led along down separate hallways. This planet didn’t like the Doctor much apparently, so as soon as he’d been spotted both he, and you by default for accompanying him, had been taken into this planet’s custody.  

You could only assume this hadn’t been a first, and that the Doctor had something planned to bust the two of you out, so all that you could do was wait.  

So, you waited like the good little prisoner you were. You’d wait until an opportunity to escape arose, or until the Doctor opened the door to your little cell and sonic screwdriver-ed you from the cuffs.  

You listened intently to everything happening on the other side of the door. Not a lot, but a couple bangs and a door closing drew in your attention. Then, it was silent once more.  

“What do you think of the name Talis?”  

You jumped in surprise at the voice. It carried through the walls, probably right on the other side of the wall you were leaning against. You didn’t want to admit how much that had scared you.

“Doctor?” you asked hesitantly, since you couldn’t really make out what the voce had said. It was more of a mumble. You’d gotten bits and pieces of it, but the majority was a muffle of sounds.  

“(Y/N)?” The Doctor repeated, and even through the wall you could hear the sarcasm the man usually had—he was kidding around with you, “of course it’s me, this is like the most peaceful planet you’ll find. I doubt those living here even know war exists. We’re like the only being they’ve taken into custody in years—since... well, since my last visit here at least.”

“There’s no need to make fun of me when I’m held captive,” you rolled your eyes at him, but you were sure your voice was conveying the humor of the situation. “Now, what did you say before?”

“I asked you what you think of the name Talis?”

“Talis for what--” you paused, thought it over before your face scrunched up with astonishment mixed with irritation, “are you seriously suggesting cat names while we’re both held captive on this planet?”

“Well,” the Doctor paused, and you could almost imagine the impassive grin on his face, “well, that’s if you really consider us held captive. It’s very accommodating, wouldn’t you say?”  

There was a moment’s pause before you heard his voice continue, “but yes, yes I am.”

You couldn’t really argue with that though—you were basically locked in a bedroom. There was even a small bathroom leading off from the side of the room. Compared to jail cells on earth, this was practically a hotel room. “I’m still cuffed to a bar,” you mumbled in reply.

“Right,” the Doctor’s voice continued, “well, you won’t be for much longer. I’ve straightened everything out; we’re just waiting for an okay to be released. All a misunderstanding. Now, what do you think of the name Talis for Kitty?”

“Why Talis?” you asked easily, stretching out as far as you could considering you were cuffed, before letting your head fall back against the wall.

“Well, it’s a common name on this side of the universe, this planet included. Kitty looks like a Talis, doesn’t he? It would suit him, I think.”

“Let me get this straight,” you turned to look back at the wall, knowing that you couldn’t actually see the Doctor. You liked to hope he got the sentiment of it anyways, even though he couldn’t see you either, “you wanna name our kitty after the people who imprisoned us at first glance?”

“To be fair, I did technically have a criminal record here,” you opened your mouth to question that, but the Doctor’s voice continued before you could, “and before you even ask, it was all a misunderstanding. They’re actually incredibly nice here.”

“We’re locked in cells, Doctor.” You reminded. “It doesn’t matter how friendly they are when we’re locked in rooms and cuffed to metal bars.”

“Right, fine,” the man sighed on the other side of the wall, “I’ll take that as a no then.”

“Keep thinking,” you relaxed back against the wall, “we’ll find a name for him sooner or later.”

----

As it turned out, cats went through food and litter remarkably fast. Only a week after getting the first bag of cat food, and a box of litter is seemed that you guys were out of it. So Kitty eats and poops a lot-- like every other cat on the planet.

It wasn’t that upsetting though, since you had an excuse to go in and look at cat toys and other play things, since Kitty had started sharpening his claws on the TARDIS furniture (which the time and space machine, and the alien owning it, were upset about).  

He’d need a cat tree, and a scratching post if he was going to be spending all his time on the TARDIS. Plus, the cat had been playing with the Doctor’s shoelaces—while they were still on the Doctor’s feet—which included pulling them untied and then walking away leaving the Doctor to unknowingly trip over his laces.

As humorous as that was, you were afraid that the Time-Lord was going to break something, so Kitty really needed toys.  

Besides, the Doctor didn’t even really mind going to the pet story for Kitty’s sake. Not since he’d gotten attached to the feline just days after meeting him.  

The two of you had decided to leave kitty in the TARDIS, even though he technically could come into the pet shop with you. You didn’t want to stress him out though, and he was perfectly content just snoozing on the TARDIS console like he usually did.

Shopping for cat stuff was a lot more fun that shopping for things for yourself, and it was almost as fun as shopping at alien shops on different planets. The Doctor always seemed endlessly amused when looking around human shops down on earth.  

Today though, as the two of you grabbed different cat items, you bickered back and forth. You’d still not made any progress on picking a name for the poor cat. Names you liked the Doctor did not, and names he picked out you weren’t fond of.  

Who’d’ve thought that this would be so hard?  

“Murphey’s a cute name,” you frowned, “it’s different, but it’s not that different.”

“It’s so weird,” the Doctor scrunched his nose us, “it... it’s just a weird name. I don’t even know what to say about it.”

“What,” you turned to look at the Doctor as you grabbed a bag of dry cat food, “Murphey’s weird but Garrus isn’t?”

“Garrus is a sophisticated name,” the Doctor snarked, “it’s way better than Murphey.”

“It is not,” you rolled your eyes, “I’ve never even heard of the name Garrus--”

“And I’ve never heard of Murphey!”

“Is there anything I can help the two of you with?” And employee asked, looking between the two of you awkwardly. It was only then that you noticed the two of you were bickering rather loudly. “Oh, uh no,” you said.

But at the same time as you the Doctor responded with a bold, “yes!”

“Okay,” the employee frowned, looking at you for a moment before glancing at the Doctor and asking a shy, “what can I help you with?”

“We’ve just rescued a cat,” you explained, to which the employee nodded thoughtfully. “He still needs a name. But we haven’t been able to agree on one.”

“I see,” the employee gave another nod, “what names are you guys going between?”

“We still aren’t sure, but the ones we’re thinking about right now are Murphey and--”

“Garrus,” the Doctor added quickly, looking at the employee expectantly. “Which one do you like more?”

The employee suddenly looked put on the spot, and you felt bad. They looked hurriedly between the two of you before finally speaking, “Garrus is... uhm, cute,” they said slowly. The Doctor turned to grin at you, but the employee continued speaking, “but I’d have to go with Murphey.”

“You earth people are all the same,” the Doctor scowled, which looked more like a pout. “Earth’s loss that they don’t have good names like Garrus.”

“Thank you,” you told the employee while ignoring the Doctor completely. The employee gave the Doctor a nervous glance before giving you a respectful nod and quickly moving away to assist another customer. 

“You’re pouting,” you mumbled to the Doctor when the employee was gone.

“Am not,” the man pouted, tossing a catnip mouse into the basket you were holding, “earth people have no taste in good cat names.”

“Neither do aliens from Gallifrey,” you snorted. “We don’t have to name him Garrus or Murphey. Some name will come along that we’ll both like, right?”

“I’m not sure anymore,” the Doctor groaned, “we can’t agree on anything.”

----

“We’re not naming him Jax!” The Doctor groaned as the two of you ran. There were at least seven armed and armored guards after the two of you after you’d snuck into some building. You weren’t even sure what you were doing here, but the Doctor had led you along like he always did.

You really hadn’t meant to say the name out loud—not when the two of you were literally sneaking around. It had just... kinda come out. You hadn’t even whispered. It was like you had a hurrah moment of thinking of the name and needed to share it instantly without even taking a second to remember where you were.  

Attention had been drawn to the two of you almost instantaneously. There’d been a sharp moment of silence while the guards looked amongst each other to see who’d said a random word, until their attention landed on you and the Doctor. And from there, the Doctor was ushering you along and the troops were running after you.  

“Why not?” you whined as the Doctor snagged your hand and made a sharp turn down a hallway, dragging you along in tow.

“What kind of a name even is Jax?” the Doctor hissed, pulling you along, “we’ll talk more about that monstrosity in the TARDIS later.”

“Yeah, alright,” you laughed as he dragged you along.  

----

You’d never liked when the TARDIS would randomly land on other people’s ships. It felt rude to you, and it was certainly weird when others found you and the Doctor on their ship. In space. Without docking anywhere or have teleportation.  

The looks on people’s faces were hilarious.  

But, of course, most people instantly thought the two of you were a threat—especially when you happened to land in human-earth space ships.  

“Who the hell are you?” the captain of the spaceship (you assumed) demanded, pointing a gun at the Doctor. One of the crewmates was holding onto you, keeping your hands behind your back. “How the hell’d you get here?”

“I’m the Doctor,” the man introduced with his usual flare, “and this is my companion, (Y/N). Say hello, (Y/N).”

“Hi,” you huffed from where you were being held in place.  

“How’d you get here?” the captain asked sternly, not looking satisfied with the Doctor’s answers in the slightest.  

“In a spaceship, of course,” the Doctor shrugged, earning a scowl from the captain. You wanted to wince and remind the Doctor that hostile humans weren’t usually ones for jokes or sarcasm—especially when they had guns. “We are in space, aren’t we?”

“Let me rephrase,” the captain growl, “how’d you get in here.”

“We landed in one of your storage cupboards,” the Doctor continued on, frowning at the captain in apology, “and sorry ‘bout that, sometime you just can’t get the landing right.”

“You landed in our storage?”

“Yeah, accident. Sorry. We really didn’t mean to, but well, when you land, you’ve gotta explore. If you just let us go we can get back to my ship and we’ll leave.”

“You want us to let you go?” the captain raised an eyebrow, “after we caught you trespassing on a ship that’s orbiting space?”

“Uh, essentially, yes. We’d very much appreciate that--” the Doctor’s attention turned to you suddenly, “Cyprus?”

You instantly knew what he was talking about. It was a stupid name for the cat. He’d just blurted a name for your rescue cat while the two of you were actually in danger of being shot.  

However, the others in the room did not know the Doctor was talking about your cat. They exchanged harsh glances before everyone tightened their stances as if the Doctor was about to lash out. You mouthed a very annunciated ‘no’ at the Doctor to which he pouted again, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What does that mean?” the captain snarled, “some kind of secret code? Tell us what it means.”

“It’s a cat name!” You panicked, seeing as the captain cocked the gun towards the Doctor’s head, “it’s a cat name, he wants to name our cat that! Don’t shoot him!”

“Really?” the captain grimaced, looking around the room at the crew’s matching disapproving expressions. The captain lowered the gun “that’s a stupid name for a cat.”

“Oh for the love of all things holy,” the Doctor huffed in irritation, “it’s a good name! You humans just have horrid taste in names!”

“Ignore him,” you huffed, “that’s honestly one of the better names he’s suggested.”

“Don’t let him name a cat Cyprus,” the captain frowned.

“Aye!” the Doctor scowled, glaring around the room—which included glaring at you.  

“Oh, I won’t,” you promised with a sigh.  

“Let her go,” the captain gave a dismissing wave of their hand and you were instantly let go. “Him too, I guess. Take your ship and leave, y’hear?”

“Loud and clear,” the Doctor pouted. “And I’ll name him Cyprus if I want.”

The Doctor turned on his heels and marched out of the room, leaving you to whisper a ‘no he won’t.’ just loud enough for the captain to hear before you were following behind the Doctor.

----

It was a quiet night in when the two of you finally agreed on a name for the little tuxedo cat you’d rescued from the streets.  

The Doctor and you were sat in the chair in the console room side by side, arms pushed against each other as you squeezed on the chair together. The cat was sprawled against both your laps, head and front paws almost curled into the Doctor’s abdomen, while his bottom half and fluffy tail were spread along your lap.  

He really was the cutest thing.  

His purrs filled the room, soft and calming. It added nicely to the usual buzz of the TARDIS, which you’d gotten used to and barely even noticed now.  

The Doctor had stabilized the TARDIS in space for the night, like he usually did unless he was on a planet he trusted (like earth).  

It was that calm time before you’d head off to bed and the Doctor was do whatever it was that he did before going to bed. The cat usually followed you to bed and cuddled with you until you fell asleep, which was when he’d leave to join the Doctor wherever he was. You always woke up to the cat in your bed with you though, cuddled right into your side and purring happily in his sleep.  

“What do you think about Calcifer?”

You opened your mouth to refute it—like you had for all the other of the Doctor’s strange suggestions, but you snapped you mouth closed before you said anything. It actually had a nice ring to it—unique but not way out of your world unique.  

The Doctor turned his attention away from the cat to look over at you with a soft, fond look.  

“Why Calcifer?” You asked quietly as you had before. You liked to hear his reasonings, to hear his thought process when suggesting a name—even if the name wasn’t very... normal?

“Well,” the man looked back at the cat, carefully dragging his fingers through the cat’s soft fur, biting his bottom lip, “it’s a bit of a fairytale from my home planet."

“What kind of fairytale?” you asked intrigued, leaning a bit into the Doctor.  

“As the story goes, Calcifer was a falling star who fell to Gallifrey. He was caught before he could fall to the ground and extinguish. This falling star was very powerful and he offered the one to save him a deal... but, I can’t really remember the rest of it. I think Calcifer really suits kitty.”

“Calcifer,” you tested the name, “we could call him Cal for short.”

“Cal,” the Doctor repeats. “I like it.”

“I do to,” you agreed with a smile. “I told you we’d find a name we’d both like.”

“It’s perfect for a space traveler too,” the Doctor gave an affirming nod, “a fallen star.”

“And we can take him to the vets on earth without getting strange looks for his name.”

“Yeah, that too,” the Doctor gave a laugh.  

With that, you looked down at the cat in the Doctor’s lap, “whaddya think kitty? You like the name Calcifer?” The cat gave a positive purr sound, which he was notorious for, before he stretched across the both of your laps and cupped his little paws around his own face as he stretched.

“He likes it,” the Doctor translated jokingly with a snort.  

“Calcifer the cat.” You returned the laugh, smiling brightly at the Doctor.

“Perfect,” the Doctor gave a matching grin, “now all we have to do is put that on the front of his tag and he’ll be set. Glad we settled on a name finally, that was starting to get embarrassing.”

“It really was,” you groaned letting your head fall onto the Doctor’s shoulder. It was quiet for a second before you were laughing to yourself. “We’re never naming anything else. Cal’s it.”

“Agreed.”

<><><><>

Thanks once more for reading, and for the prompt! I love fulfilling people’s requests! Not sure if this was funny or boring or even what you were looking for, but I tried! Feel free to prompt me again if it’s not what you wanted!

Just as a bit of backstory this whole cat in general is based off my baby boy Murphey-- which I was going to make the endgame name until I thought of Calcifer. I needed something in between alien and also kinda earth sounding. Shout out to those who know Howl’s Moving Castle (even though I switched it up a bit) and get the name reference :D

[ficklefics]

Human - Dhawan!Master x Reader

Complicated is too simple a word to explain the relationship between you and the Master. But perhaps he doesn’t hate you that much.

(A/N: This is the breakup fic. Just FYI. Might be OOC, but this is more for me tbh)

MASTERLIST

Warnings: Kidnapping, breakup

Travelling with the Master was… strange, to say the least. You had been a friend of the Doctor’s a long time ago. After a close-call with the Weeping Angels, you had both decided that it would be better for you to go home. Safer. And it was. Until the Master came calling. He was from your Doctor’s future, a few regenerations after the Master who became prime minister. And, as usual, he was looking for the Doctor. And a hostage was always useful.

Technically you were his prisoner. And at first, it had certainly felt like that, as he dragged you around time and space looking for her, always a step out of sync with her adventures. You hated him with every facet of your being. He had dragged you away from your home, made you feel as though you were constantly being held at gunpoint, took his anger and frustration out on you. You guessed he wanted your fear. But you wouldn’t let him have it. You hid everything away under a façade of cool indifference, sarcasm, and over-confidence. Just like the Doctor would. You weren’t sure if it worked. The Master did know the Doctor better than anyone; if anyone could see through her tactics, it would be him. If he did, he didn’t let on.

As time went on, your relationship became less captor and prisoner and more… there wasn’t quite a word for it. You guessed you might say reluctant companions. It wasn’t an immediate change. You couldn’t say when it happened, but you were pretty sure it started when he let you wander his TARDIS on your own while he had his daily meltdown. Of course, most of the doors were locked, and you didn’t stray too far in case you got lost in the endless halls, but you did find a massive library. Artwork from every era lined the walls between towering bookshelves, desks were hidden in alcoves, the floor cluttered with rugs. It was lit warmly with candles. Somehow, despite the size of the room, it was cosy. Reaching out you pulled a book off of a shelf without looking and, finding a soft armchair in a closed-off corner, you curled up with it.

You didn’t realise how long you had been there until you heard him shouting your name. He came into the room, muttering pointless threats. It took him grabbing the book out of your hands to draw your attention away. Your eyes widened in surprise and fear as he glared down at you. “And what do you think you’re doing?” You scrambled to your feet, tripping on the cushions, to stand in front of him. “I was just reading,” You protested, trying to snatch the book back, but he held it out of your reach. “Back to the console room. Now.” He ordered, turning to leave without checking that you were following. You weren’t. He seemed to realise this by the time he got to the door, as he sighed and stood for a moment, his shoulders tensing, before he looked back around. “What?” “I’m not a child. Don’t talk to me like one.” “You’re a human. Practically the same thing.” You rolled your eyes at him but followed anyway. “Can I at least get the book back?” You chanced. He glanced at you, disbelief in his eyes, and almost chuckled. He handed you the now slightly bent book which you took quickly before the two of you went back to the console room. After that, you spent a lot of time in the library. And he didn’t ever mention it or ban you. A coffee machine appeared, a cupboard of blankets. It was probably just the TARDIS. Probably.

You started to actually spend time in the places you visited, rather than just making a mad dash through whatever place the TARDIS brought you to, looking fruitlessly for the Doctor. He still insisted that you were his captive – he had to. But you liked to think he hated you slightly less than everyone else.

And then your world fell apart around you. Or at least it felt like it. He took you home. “Not permanently,” He insisted, “Just for a visit. You can grab some things.” It had technically only been two hours since he’d taken you. For everyone else at least. While you were packing a bag, your phone buzzed next to you. You grabbed it casually, checked the message like you did all the time, completely average.

We need to talk. We need to break up.

The rest of the message was a blur. The phone fell out of your hand. You watched it spin as it fell to the floor and bounced on the carpet. The screen still bright. You were shaking. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t feel anything but the pain, the aching in your chest. Your head buzzed with white noise. You moved automatically, scooping your phone into your bag and hooking it over your shoulder. Out of your flat, down the stairs, out of the door. The TARDIS wasn’t far away, disguised as an old car. You still weren’t used to the working chameleon circuit. Your feet carried you inside. The Master was stood at the console, watching the screens intently. “That was quick.” The comment was a throwaway. No answer required. Usually, you would have made a joke, some sarcastic comment, but not today. Not now. You walked past him, dumping your bag onto the ground and retreating to the door that lead further inside as your emotions started to take over and tears began to fall. “Stop.” You stuttered on your feet, battling between the want, the need to be alone and the survival instinct that told you if you didn’t listen you’d be in big trouble. Survival won out. You turned around, hurriedly swiping at your cheeks, keeping your head down. No eye contact. Or you would break. “What’s wrong?” He sighed. Glancing up for a split second you saw that he had stepped back from the console, head resting in one hand with the other on his hip. You couldn’t see his face. Was he really…? No. Don’t be stupid. “Nothing.” “(Y/N)…” There was a warning in the growl. A warning that said Don’t lie to me. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t care anyway.” Any caution was thrown to the wind. You just had to get away. You couldn’t deal with him right now. You needed to be alone. “I care if you’re going to be moping about more than usual. You bring the mood down.” Dismissive as always. You stepped back up to the console, leaning against it and staring at the complicated controls. “Sorry if I’m not super enthusiastic about being kidnapped by an insane Time Lord,” You huffed. Or tried to. On the final words of the sentence, your throat tightened, and they became choked. Tears began to form again as the text message swirled around your mind. “Ugh, don’t tell me you’re crying,” He groaned, having looked across at the failure of your voice, “You haven’t cried once since you got here.” “It’s not you.” You might have shouted at him if you’d had the energy. You nodded at your bag, not trusting yourself to say any more. He sighed in irritation at your attitude but crossed the room and picked it up. “Phone.” Barely a whisper. He reached inside. “Password.” “1748.” The day you met the Doctor. Sentimental. He unlocked it. The messages app was still open. You couldn’t look as he read the texts. It was all you could do to keep the fragile strands of composure together. “Oh.” And that word, that tiny, meaningless word… it made it real. And it broke you. Pain flooded from you like a tidal wave. Your body shook as you sobbed, as you clung at yourself, pulled at your clothes, at your hair, as you fell apart in front of him. Whatever embarrassment you felt was overwhelmed by the raw emotions that tore at your insides. Your sorrow, your grief, your anger, your loneliness. The Master could have been doing cartwheels and you wouldn’t have noticed. You didn’t want him to see you like this. You went to hurry past him, down the stairs and into the bowels of the TARDIS, but he caught your arm, stopping you in your tracks. His grip was tight, but it didn’t hurt. Maybe you were just numb. “Look, just leave me alone.” They were barely words, more ragged gasps between sobs. He pulled you forward and stood in front of you, taking hold of your arms and keeping you in place. “Stop crying.” You couldn’t. You gasped for breath, for peace, but the tears wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t control it. “Stop.” Maybe it was the tightness of his grip, or some weird Time Lord magic, or just the sound of his voice, but with a few gulps, you managed to contain yourself. Tears still ran down your cheeks, but your breathing steadied and you could actually see him now. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he looked concerned. “He is not worth your tears. He’s human, an insignificant, stupid little human. He doesn’t matter.” You wiped away a tear with your sleeve, chuckling weakly. “I mean, I am also an insignificant, stupid little human.” He shook his head, laughing under his breath, making you frown. “You might be human, but you’re far different from any of that lot.” He pulled away from you – almost like he was embarrassed. “Doesn’t seem like it. The Doctor left me, you hate me, and here I am crying over a guy who…” You had to stop yourself from speaking as the pain started to build up again. “Get over him. And get over yourself.” He was pacing, circling the console while you stood, hunched, tear-stained. “Do you really think I would let just anyone travel with me?” “I thought we were looking for the Doctor?” You began walking in the other direction. You met him after a few steps, seemingly surprising him. He avoided your eyes. “We are… the long way.” “Why?” The fear that you had felt for so long was slowly starting to disappear as you realised the Master maybe wasn’t as cruel and heartless as you thought. “Don’t push me.” He attempted to step around you to get to the console but you stopped him. “Why the long way?” “Because for some reason…” He groaned, frustrated, and ran a hand through his already tangled hair. “I like you. I like your company. Turns out I prefer it over being alone.” “I’m flattered.” You smiled weakly. The pain was still there, the anger, but you pushed it away. For him. “Don’t. You’re still my prisoner. I just happen to also not hate you.” “I can live with that.” You grin. “So…” “So?” “What now? Where are we off to?” You walked to one of the screens, despite knowing you wouldn’t be able to read the information on it, and pulled it closer to you. In the reflection you saw the Master approach, leaning over the shoulder. You were hyperaware of his presence, of the space between your bodies. But you weren’t scared. “Anywhere you want.” His voice was low, enticing. You turned, starting slightly at just how close he was, but not backing off. “Anywhere?” “Anywhere.” You considered the offer, imagining all the places, all the times you could go, all the things you could see. “Take me…” Your eyes were locked on his. “Take me somewhere beautiful.” “Somewhere beautiful it is.” He stepped closer, his chest against yours, making you look up at him, and he reached around you, pulling a lever on the console, jolting the TARDIS to life.

Time for a new adventure.

PART TWO

MASTERLIST

[mistoelectra]

Why Jack Harkness deserved better

I said I was going to write this so here it is

WHY JACK HARKNESS DESERVED BETTER (SPECIFICALLY FROM THE TENTH DOCTOR)

Okay, so this is something I’ve been meaning to write for a little while, because I’ve been rewatching New Who from the beginning, and Jack is probably one of my favourite characters, and seeing the way Ten acts towards him makes my heart hurt. It also makes me really wish they could have brought Jack back in to interact with other incarnations of the Doctor because I feel like seeing the different dynamics would have been really interesting (also let’s face it, John Barrowman would be hella up for it).

This is gonna primarily focus on Doctor Who events but draw on things from Torchwood because that obviously gave us a lot more info on Jack and his past. But also I’m not going to go too in depth with Torchwood stuff, because that’s a whole different essay with full in-depth vaguely shitty psychoanalysis (I have a degree but I am far from proficient).

Let’s start at the beginning with Jack’s first appearance in The Doctor Dances/The Empty Child, which are admittedly two of my favourite episodes of series 1. Admittedly, he does at first come off as cocky, brash, a little callous, and of course, a self-professed con-man and criminal. Except at the same time, we already get to see some of his heart. His cons are based selling space junk to (what seem to be) rather wealthy parties, then getting that junk destroyed before they find out what they’ve actually bought. He himself states that he believes the Chula ambulance was completely empty, so wouldn’t do any damage, and specifically programmed it so it wouldn’t hit anything living. While this doesn’t necessarily make things any more moral, it still says something about Jack. There are plenty who wouldn’t have even bothered to do that. There’s also the fact that he’s not doing it for money, but in an attempt to get back his stolen memories.

Continuing on, Jack rescues Rose and the Doctor from the hospital, proving further that he is not quite as callous as he might make out to be. Given he now knows they’re time agents, there’s technically nothing stopping him from just abandoning them and getting the hell out of this time period (except possibly his time agency training reminding him that he may have done fucked up and he needs to fix it). He almost immediately places his trust in the Doctor, jumps at the chance to help him, and when the time comes, he doesn’t even hesitate in getting the bomb (and don’t tell me he doesn’t know the risk to himself, because he totally does. He knows his chances of getting out of this are slim, but Jack Harkness is a self-sacrificing bastard if ever there was one).

(Brief sidetrack to Torchwood- Jack mentions in Countrycide (1x06) that he’s proficient in torture and once had a reputation as a go-to guy for getting answers, but it’s never really made clear when this occurred, or if it’s even truthful. Was it the Time Agency? Was it Victorian era Torchwood? Who knows?)

Next appearance. Boom Town. That interesting outfit choice. But that aside, this is where we get to see how smart Jack is. Sure, he’s from the future so he’s going to have knowledge that will sound impressive, but there’s also his plan to catch Margaret, which is pretty tactically sound. Again, Jack was a time agent, so he’s definitely not going to be just any old idiot, not to mention he was a soldier as well. We also see him working on the TARDIS, which is pretty much something we don’t really see other companions do much of in New Who, and certainly not in their third episode, which I think says a lot, both about Jack, and about the trust the Doctor now places in Jack.

The final two episodes. For one, and on a different tangent, Jack keeps a gun up his ass. Is this a common thing? Is this just so the Doctor can’t take it off him like he did before? How is this safe? For two, and on the same tangent, Jack stop groping the robots. Finally, can we appreciate how efficient Jack is? Sure, he’s a little confused at first, but he throws himself into the situation, lets them give him a few different outfits, then calmly takes them down, makes himself a gun and gets out of there without much hassle. His reaction to Rose’s ‘elimination’ absolutely breaks my heart just as much as the Doctor’s, because while the Doctor is just completely silent and lost looking, you can hear and see Jack absolutely going off in the background, lashing out. Similarly, his reaction upon realising that Rose is alive…just yes.

Second side track- how quickly did Jack get that TARDIS key? I mean, I know there were multiple adventures between episodes, but regardless, he had a key by Boom Town. That’s hella speedy.

And then there’s dealing with the daleks. Jack knows how big a deal this is, he was a time agent after all. One hit, that’s all it takes. The Doctor probably would have let him leave Satellite 5 if he’d asked, but he didn’t. He stepped up, almost certainly knowing he was going to die, but willing to do whatever he could to give the Doctor any little scrap of time he could. And he gets killed for it. And then he gets brought back to life, and he’s surrounded by dalek dust, and he gets to watch the TARDIS leave without him. And his expression is just so heartbroken, and it hurts so much. What is he thinking? Is he hoping they’ll come back for him? Does he think that they think he’s dead so they’ve left without him?

And this is the first of the Doctor’s assholery (albeit this is still 9 and not 10). He just abandons Jack, without any form of explanation as to what has just happened, on a satellite surrounded by dalek dust and corpses. While I appreciate all the Doctor was going through and the whole ‘Jack now makes me physically sick’ thing, like dude, c’mon, you owe him an explanation. He has literally just died for you, it’s the very least you can offer.

And then there’s all the shit Jack goes through before they reunite again. I could spend all day going into depth on this but let’s just summarise it: managing to get back to Earth, ending up in 19th century Cardiff, 150 years of waiting which include: dying a lot (like seriously, he has at least two separate times where people essentially kill him on repeat just because he can come back, don’t tell me that doesn’t have an effect on your psyche), being tortured, being more or less coerced into a job, two world wars, several lost loves, his boss killing the entire team and then himself, being forced into a leadership position that he does not want, recruiting his own team, Canary Wharf and Rose’s name on the list of the dead, Suzie, being shoved into the rift (Thanks Ianto), a cyberwoman in his own basement (Thanks Ianto), being blamed by his entire team for the faeries and Jasmine, watching another man out of his time kill himself and being unable to do anything but keep him company, watching one of his team more or less let a weevil attack him, being mutinied against and killed by a team member (Thanks Owen), and then getting his life energy devoured by a legitimate hell beast.

And then the Doctor shows up, and Jack runs for him, and the Doctor runs away. Nothing like a stinging sense of rejection and a jaunt to the end of the universe to help your self esteem. And pretty much the first thing the Doctor does is criticise him. And what’s worse is that the Doctor won’t even admit that he abandoned Jack. ‘Busy life. Moving on.’ It’s just such an incredibly callous statement that just completely ignores Jack’s feelings and just seems to treat him as a piece of trash to be discarded. And Jack would be wholly within his right to go off at the Doctor, but he doesn’t. Instead he asks about Rose, and there’s the hug, because he can just tell that the Doctor has something against him, but Rose is a somewhat neutral territory.

Cue the Doctor being blatantly rude to Jack for an entire scene about both his vortex manipulator and his abandonment, as well as making it more or less clear to Jack that he knew all along about Jack’s immortality. That him being left on the Game Station was no accident. And that’s just cold. And yet despite all this, the moment Jack’s with them again, the Doctor’s immediately controlling him. Dictating what he can and can’t do, and in all honesty, it feels very much like he’s still treating Jack as the brash playboy he knew in his last regeneration? Like he can’t see just how much Jack has changed since they last met, how he’s most certainly not the same man he was. He also willingly throws Jack into a situation which is dangerous and will probably cause him pain (don’t tell me that radiation chamber didn’t cause Jack pain. Just because it can’t kill me doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt) just because he knows Jack will do anything for him (and also Jack would probably volunteer anyway because he’s that sort of person). And he admits to Jack’s face that he’s known all along, that he ran away from him. He point blank tells Jack to his face that he’s wrong and that he can hardly bear to look at him, without so much as a thought to how that’s bound to feel. Asks Jack if he wants to die. The whole conversation just makes me feel on edge because it does not feel at all like a healthy friendship.

Then, when Jack tells him he’s with Torchwood, there’s the Doctor’s reaction, and it’s just so vehement. His lack of belief in Jack is just heartbreaking, because it’s such a switch from his relationship with the 9th Doctor. It’s like Jack isn’t a companion to him anymore, but more of a sort of tool. And in the Year That Never Was, we pretty much get implied that Jack gets repeatedly tortured and killed for at least the third time in his existence, over and over for an entire year. It seems pretty likely too that the Master probably executes the rest of the Torchwood team too, probably using them in an attempt to break Jack. Sure, it all gets reversed, but it clearly fucks with Jack (and we can see that in Torchwood series 2). But Jack holds up the brave front, destroys the paradox machine. And you can bet it probably hurt him like hell when the Doctor mentions keeping the Master in the TARDIS, because it kinda seems like he’d rather have the Master there than Jack. And sure, he offers to let Jack come with him, but I feel like it’s an empty offer. He knows that Jack has found something else in their time apart, knows he’s probably not going to accept. And then of course, he breaks Jack’s vortex manipulator. While I do understand this, it also makes me sad, because if he’d at least left the teleport function working, there’s a chance that Owen and Tosh could have been saved.

Jump to their next reunion after Jack has faced the following: dealing with the psychological trauma from all the shit that just happened to him, losing Owen, bringing him back, finding his long lost little brother and being stabbed by him then buried under Cardiff for nearly 2000 years, being frozen for like a century, having to stop his little brother, losing Tosh, losing Owen again. And when the world needs saving, Jack doesn’t hesitate to jump straight in, especially once they get through to the Doctor, even though he is quite clearly terrified of the daleks. He’s the only one to actually be somewhat calm and methodical when the Doctor is shot. In the dalek ship, he willingly sacrifices himself in order to be able to explore the ship more and find some way to help them. But the moment he starts making threats, there’s the Doctor’s disapproval back again. But they do it, they save the world, they go home.

And then Children of Earth happens. Jack’s entire world shatters. He loses Ianto. He has to sacrifice his own grandson to save the world. The Doctor is nowhere in sight. Jack leaves Earth, crushed. And the Doctor does his little journey through the companions to say goodbye. He saves Martha and Mickey. He gives the scratch card for Donna. He saves Luke for Sarah Jane. He visits Rose just to see her again.

And Jack?

He gives Jack Alonso. And maybe it’s just me, but I find it wholly uncomfortable. It’s a possibility the Doctor doesn’t know about the whole affair with the 456 and what Jack went through, or that he more specifically doesn’t know about Jack’s losses. But it’s also possible that he does. And he feels like the best thing he can do is to essentially offer him a shag. Even though he’s very clearly heavily grieving (No hate to Alonso, I love him) and has just lost someone he deeply loved. It feels like further confirmation of the fact that Ten still sees him as the playboy he was. Because let’s face it, Jack still flirts like a champ, but Torchwood very much paints him as that only extending to his flirting. Any further seems to fall exclusively within having relationships, which are considerably infrequent in the series (with Estelle, Angelo, Lucia and Ianto seeming to be the principal partners in his life over his 150 years). To be fair, this ‘gift’ to Jack doesn’t really seem so much an asshole move, as just Ten no longer understanding Jack, not in the way he used to.

But yeah, this got kinda longer than I initially expected and could probably do with severe editing but oh well, here it is in it’s entirety anyway.

[kittymaverick]

It’s that time again. MCF: Black Crown commentary

 I’m actually watching AdventureGameFan8 this time instead of Pazu first. (I intend to watch Pazu later for his commentary.) Anyhow, spoilers under the cut...

1. Skulls... skulls everywhere... HELP. Note: Kitty has a chronic fear of skulls since childhood. It’s bad enough that she still can’t finish 13th Skull even after all these years. 2. Her Majesty: You remember what happened last time... MD: ...A ghost drowned some people that were holding me hostage, and then I drowned that ghost again with the help of his crew? By the way, are you sending me on this case again just so I can come back with a good story? Her Majesty: Now why would I ever do that? *plays innocent*

3. Chapter 0. XD I like how it straight up acknowledges it’s a chapter 0. And we’re collecting... CRABS this time. (Better than skulls!)

4. Huh, interesting, for once this is a puzzle I would have needed to solve with a piece of paper nearby. I don’t think we’ve had that either forever, or for ages.

5. MD: Huh, so the asylum’s benefactor is Crown Estate Holdings... ...Is there such a thing as pissing off the descendants of a ghost you came across??? MD: I guess I’m about to find out...

6. I still don’t trust this Dr. Norton, and I SWEAR we’ve heard the name Nathaniel somewhere... MD: I should have kept a notebook of names just in case...

7. This patient file is giving me so many warning bells. MD: shiny round object-- MUST BE THE CRYSTAL BALL. *Paranoia max*

8. That’s a lot of lollipops you’re carrying doctor. I expect them to show up later. MD: Also, this pocket watch, if you so much as put them in yourself... Dr: ...I see you are still incredibly paranoid, much like you were on your last visit. MD: Can you honestly blame me given my line of work?

9. WAIT A MOMENT THE MD SIGNED THEIR NAME LEMME SEE IT I CAN READ CURSIVE-- MD: NEXT. If that actually says Phineas Crown I’m going to scream because WHERE IS THE REAL MD THEN.

10. Dr.: The last thing we need right now is the whole wing getting agitated. Me and MD: And then the whole wing got agitated... *sighs*

11. MD: Speaking of, I swear I did some property destruction while I was here last time. Has that been fixed? I’m starting to see why the Crown Estate might have a beef with you.

12. Dr.: I’ll be right back! MD: Really? You’re really going to just leave me here in the dark?... Good thing I swiped a torch from the table earlier. I was wondering why you just took that...

13. MD:...Okay seriously, if the WHOLE WING OF PATIENTS is in on the puzzle I seriously thing we’re doomed. You don’t know that. It might just be a game they like to play together. :P

14. MD: I just got chills. Something isn’t right, all of a sudden. Wow, understatement of the year. Glad to see that paranoia finally kicking in. MD: ...I did always have a late spider sense...

15. How convenient it is that there’s a museum to visit-- Um, MD?! MD: WHO TOUCHED MY BUGGY AND TAMPERED WITH THE BRAKES??? I TOLD YOU THE MUSEUM STAFF WERE BAD NEWS!!!! MD: And they even left a postcard telling me about it. Okay, they’re just taunting me now.

16. Um, MD, is your buggy technically the company’s? MD:................. They’re going to dock your pay for this, right? MD: That thought ALMOST made me just want to just stay in the car and go with it. 17. Ah, getting keys from other people’s incompetence. MD: If only all doors and puzzles were like that... To be fair, the last time the main antagonist was somewhat incompetent, we nearly broke space-time, and also almost got stuck in their hallucination. MD: ...Yeah, on second thought, never mind.

18. MD: Wow there, boy! Calm down. I’ve just notice that you’re not very good with animals. MD: You would think I would have learnt to keep a bag of treats handy by now, but alas. ...Wait, is this why you were never allowed a pet? MD: ...*changes subject* Hey look this map over here’s very interesting!

19. Another fact about the MD learned: They can rock-climbing. Somewhat. MD: I almost joined my car... People usually take their gloves OFF and put CHALK on  for a reason, you know. Like, the chalk you just used 5 seconds ago. MD: If I grounded up the whole thing, then it’ll be obvious someone has been here. No duh! As if the open lock and dog in cage didn’t clue them in! /8D

20. This whole “let’s follow the most-definitely not evil artifact” is REALLY doing wonders on your chance of survival. MD: ...Look, it’s an occupational hazard... Mh-hmm. MD: ...And okay I do get a bit too into the mystery. So more like an occupational addiction.

21. Oh no, a person! Gotta stay hidden! MD: Uh, I think I’ve failed that already, with the fountain now 2 stories high and what not.

22. OH NO THE DOCTOR AND NURSE ARE HERE. RED ALERT! RED ALERT! MD: I’m armed with my fists and a sharp badge, don’t come closer. Doctor: Actually, we’re here because the patients all broke out during the black out... Nurse: And they took the girl with them here, using a stolen ambulance. MD: ...As much as it was the reason I managed to get out myself, your asylum REALLY needs better security. Also, how did you get in with the front door locked? 23. Doctor: By the way, they were screaming about a crown. Can you keep an eye out? MD: And I just all of a sudden remember a story about some villains who tricked me into finding something for them while I was on a case. Would you like to know what happened to them in the end? 8D (Spoiler alert: they drowned.) Doctor: Anyway, let’s split up. MD: That sounds like a “Let’s get the MD to do a the work while we just sit back and relax”... but sure, I’m in. Also doc, can you just give us one of those lollipops already? Like, it’s so obvious we’re going to need it later...

23. MD: Man, this watch sure is handy-- Um, did you already forgot what all of your supernatural/mechanical fancy gizmos have done in the past few games??? MD: ...Look, we detectives need our companion cubes, okay, especially the ones who can’t handle animals. Who happen to also VANDALIZE historical paintings. My GODS. MD: There was a THING, okay?!

24. SHADOW FIGURE DETECTED. ALERT, STRANGE PRESENCE DETECTED. MD: Yeah, it’s probably the doctor. They all end up weird sooner or later. You are REALLY to calm about this.

25. MD: Haha, funny note. Curses aren’t real! ... MD: ...Okay that was out of character. Yeah... let’s open it anyway though. 8D

26. ???: The last time we met, you killed my parents! MD: ...Oh, it’s you. Should have guessed, though I thought you were dead too. Phineas Crown: WELCOME TO MY HOUSE. MD: And YOU, are most definitely dead. Seriously, didn’t you get dragged back under water?! You REALLY have a lot of crime families coming after you, don’t you? Also, CAN WE NOPE OUT OF HERE?! MD: Yeah, prime time to be stuck in a corridor right now. So, um, HELP? Dr.: I got this! This way! MD: Wait, YOU?! Nah, ah, I’m not falling for-- okay, fine, you better not get possessed later thought!

27. Doctor: We better find the nurse and get out of here, so... I’ll hold the door, and you... figure a way out for us. MD: It’s so strange having an ally so early in the game. I’m so suspicious... *Finds a way out* Doctor: Is that... you car in the distance? MD: *sob* yes... Doctor: I’m sorry, it was a nice car. Oh for once someone compliments the car! Doctor: At least you didn’t go over with it. ...MD, I think you have competition in the sarcasm department now.

28. Nurse: HELP! Dr. and MD: ...welp, better find her quick. *Dog shows up* MD: AAAAHHH! *Dog whines* MD: ...good doggy, nice doggy... please remember me giving you treats and not me locking you up... Hey, maybe you WILL get a pet after all!

29. So, we probably should avoid the patients and that women-- *MD walks right back into the building* REALLY?! Doctor: ...I do believe that our detective hasn’t been the most self-preserving after all those traumatic events in their life. MD: Look, if I don’t take some risks, I’m not going to earn enough money to eat, okay? Doctor: True enough, that said, let’s go into this maze and look for the nurse. MD: Now hold on, that’s way too dangerous! ...You two are perfect for each other, in the worst of ways. 30. MD: Well, thank god for that dog. Aaaand the Doctor’s lost. Bet you he’s the one going to be in distress next. MD: ...On account of him calling my car nice, I’ll highly consider rescuing him in a moment. 31. Skull patient: ... MD: ...Um, hi? *Skull patient attacks!* *MD uses block! It’s super effective* *MD uses punch! It’s also super effective!* MD: I personally prefer not to use violence, but oh well... ...Since WHEN have you been able to knock a guy out with one punch?! MD: Violence is a last resort, okay? Says the person who would have probably gotten out of MANY MANY situations if you’d had thrown more punches in the past! 32. Another unconscious patient?! MD: Not me! Nurse: ...That was me, sorry. Also, they said something about what was up here before you knocked them out. Might help before the police get here. MD: You guys keep on saying police like they will actually show up in time to be helpful, when usually, that’s not the case... 33. MD: Aaaand got the starchart-- WAH! Doctor: Hi, I’ve rescued myself from the maze! I also know the way back now though. MD: ...This is SO new to me. Tell me about it. People actually saving themselves now? What is this?! Nurse: Well, there’s still the girl, if you want to rescue someone. Doctor: Yes, I agree wholeheartedly with that. The two of us would only get in the way, but you should rescue the girl, detective. We’ll wait outside! Bye! ...Wait, so we’re rescuing the villain now??? MD: ...again, this is SO new to me. [Part 2 coming soon.]

[steves-on-a-plane]

Chapter Three: A Little Less Conversation

Renowned and Illustrious Chapter One  Chapter Two  Words: 787 Crossover Fic: Grey’s Anatomy x Iron Man/MCU Timeline: Grey’s Anatomy Season 3 & Pre-Iron Man 1 Pairings: Meredith Grey x Derek Shepard & Tony Stark x Pepper Potts Other Relationships: Brother!Tony Stark & Sister!Meredith Grey Summary: Tony ventures to Joe’s Bar across the street where he finds Meredith's best friend Christina practically incoherent. Meanwhile all Derek and Pepper can do is wait at the hospital and hope for good news.  Next Chapter will be posted: October 16, 2019

Tony swaggered into Joe's Bar across the street from the hospital. It was late in the afternoon on a weekday, unsurprisingly the place was all but empty. Only a haggard woman sat at a stool, talking with the Bar's owner. It was Christina Yang, Meredith's best friend. She'd fled the hospital after Dr. Montgomery had suggested that she, Stevens and O'Malley prepare themselves for the worst. The majority of Christina's hair was twisted in a knot on the back of her head, but large tufts of it were sticking straight out. She had buried herself and Joe in a pile of bags from the ninety-nine cent store.

"You're not getting this are you?" She paused to take a swing from her bottle of beer. "Okay, this is ninety-nine cents, okay?" She gestured to the array of virtually useless junk between them. "You can buy anything for ninety-nine cents! Ok...Okay..." She searched around the legs of her barstool until she found what she was looking for, a cheaply made children's chair. "It's small. It's, um, a tiny size. It have cat-type creatures on it, but it is a chair. For ninety-nine cents, you can buy furniture. That is America, man."

"That's Taiwan, man." Tony snorted. He approached the bar.

"Aren't you Tony Stark?" Joe questioned in surprise as the billionaire sat down.

"The one and only. Are you Joe?  I sure hope so because if the place is called Joe's at least someone's name should be Joe. Is it her? Is her name Joe?"

"It's me." The bar tender chuckled. "I'm the owner of the bar and my name is Joe. What can I get for you Mr. Stark?"

"The strongest thing from your top shelf. Assuming this is an alcoholic bar and not one of those trendy Seattle coffee bars or something." Joe nodded. He turned to prepare his new customer a drink. Tony drummed his fingers for a few minutes, but he couldn't tolerate the silence. He turned to the woman next to him noticing her medical scrubs. They were to same ones worn by the doctors at Seattle Grace.

"Wasn't there like a serious yacht accident or something? Shouldn't you be at the hospital?" She didn't reply to him. He leaned forward and whispered to Joe. "Who's the bag lady?"

"She's not a bag lady." Joe defended. "That's Doctor Christina Yang. She works across the street."

"Christina? As in Meredith's Christina?" Tony accepted the glass that the bartender offered him. "I'd thought you'd be glued to her side."

"I am coping." The surgeon huffed. "What about you? You're not exactly brother of the year."

"Yeah well I'm coping too. Her next one's on me."

At the hospital, O'Malley and Stevens had been put to work in the clinic as a way to keep their mind off of their friend. Having no real desire to be around Elis Grey, Derek led Pepper out to the waiting room. As they sat down both surgeon and assistance couldn't help but feel they didn't belong. Through the room families of the victims of the ferry accident were seated. Some were leaning on each other support, others silently wiped away tears. Derek shifted uncomfortable in his seat, wishing someone would at the very least let him hold Meredith's hand. Pepper straightened her suit jacket wishing desperately that Tony hadn't left her alone. A man sitting next to Derek leaned over.

"Who are you here for?" he asked.

"What?" The surgeon asked, facing the stranger.

"I'm waiting on my wife." The man explained. "A car hit her. Can you believe that, on the ferry? She was run over on the ferry. They haven't said much. Hard as hell to get any of these people to talk to you." Pepper decided to let her companion do the talking since she technically wasn't the one waiting on a family member.

"Yeah, I'm..." Derek decided at the last second no to tell the man that he worked at the hospital. Thankfully he had  changed out of his scrubs beforehand. "My girlfriend was there, too. And I don't know. I don't know what's gonna happen."

"So you two aren't...?"  The man pointed at Pepper.

"Oh, no! I'm just..." Pepper started to say, but Derek interrupted.

"She's a friend of the family." She smiled at him gratefully. There was no way to easily explain that she was just the assistance of his girlfriend's brother. The man looked back at them both sympathetically.

"It's out of our hands. It's up to the doctors now."

"Yeah." Derek nodded. "Yeah."

"What's her name?"

"Meredith." Pepper told the man, afraid that Derek might not be able to manage her name.

"I'll put her in my prayers." The stranger smiled.

[timeisacephalopod]

AU-College. Tony/?. Tony already 17 and working on yet another doctorate has just returned from home after a school break. He's covered in bruises but he doesn't bother to hide them because he honestly believes no one notices or cares. Always on edge and doing anything and everything to forget the pain, Tony is confused when people he doesn't even know start to ask if he's okay and if he needs any help. Laughing in their face he replied. "You can't help, no one can." (I feel dark today sry?)

So I went with Tony/ Eddie Brock (from Venom if you don’t know). Eddie is an investigative journalist (or in this case he’s in school to be one) and tbh I have no freaking clue how journalism school works (journalism school?) so I’ve sort of made it work like humanities courses? Idk, just accept my bad plot needs bois. Also I altered the ‘you can’t help’ line to better fit the scenario, but the sentiment is the same.

As the prompt suggests, warning abuse references.

Eddie needs a story and since his asshole prof likes corporations a lot more than he does that’s out. Which throws a bunch of stuff in his usual wheelhouse out with it. He thought homelessness was a good topic but got told that wasn’t news, which he doesn’t understand because to his knowledge homelessness isn’t solved. Then he thought hey, school shootings happen basically every other day- they like to say if it bleeds it leads and a whole lot of kids seem to be dying. But he got told the news is already oversaturated with that. So he thought fine, maybe police brutality, that’s violent and not on the news much but he got told that was too controversial and what the fuck is the news for if not to be controversial?

Now he’s stuck with the task of finding a story his irritatingly picky prof will like and to add insult to the injury one of his classmates got approved to write about cryptocurrency. What the fuck is that? Stupid, in Eddie’s opinion. His topics were important, real world issues and this dumbass over here gets to write shit about something no one cares about. Predictable.

He’s eating his muffin angrily and wondering if he can somehow convince his prof to let him write something about climate change and the fact that no matter what an individual does, its still 100 companies doing seventy percent of the damage so why is the news focusing on individuals over corporations when he spots a potentially easier sell. Boy genius, way ahead of his time, and well loved by the American public. He has no interest in Tony Stark whatsoever but there has to be a story there, something underneath that irritatingly arrogant rich kid veneer that’s worth writing about so he decides to make a move.

*

Tony hates waking up before noon on any given day, assuming he went to bed at all, and dealing with people? He doesn’t like that at any time of day so when he’s minding his own damn business only to have some random guy with porn star lips- he swears to god that’s the only accurate description- he’s already annoyed. “Who the hell are you? Never mind, I don’t actually care,” he says in an irritable tone before going to turn back around but the guy takes his brief interruption to his day in a totally different direction than Tony was expecting.

“Nice shiner, where’d you get that?” he asks and Tony freezes for a moment, used to that fleeting feeling that someone might guess at the truth before realizing no one cares anyways.

He rolls his eyes, “you wouldn’t care if I told you, and even if you did its not like there’s anything you could do about it. Or anyone else, for that matter.” Its not like he’s never said anything and not one time has anything come of it. Sometimes people laugh, actually, and Tony doesn’t know what’s worse. People  not hearing him at all or people hearing just fine, but they make a joke out of it. Silence isn’t his thing, but he’s developed a thick skin in regards to how people treat him. Doesn’t have much of a choice, living under his father’s roof and in the public eye. Its amazing, Tony thinks, how fucking obvious his abuse is and no one seems to see what’s in front of their damn faces.

Something about his words seem to draw his companion’s attention though and Tony recognizes the look. “Are you a reporter?” he asks and the guy looks surprised for a half a second.

“Good instinct- but technically I’m still in school,” he says like Tony fucking cares about that.

“Yeah, fuck off,” he says bluntly. He’s got no time for another asshole looking to capitalize off the Tony Stark Story when none of them even get the damn story right.

“You have an interesting take on green energy. Only big name attached to it, too,” he says and Tony frowns.

“You know about my interest in green energy?” he asks. No one ever asks him about his passion project, they all want to know about the bombs and if Tony is honest he’s never really been comfortable with what his father’s company does. He knows the military has a use, and that there are protocols, and a bunch of other things his father has said over and over again but he still wonders what happens when things go wrong. Who’s responsibility is that? Does anyone have to take responsibility at all? His experiences tell him that powerful people don’t need to take responsibility for their actions ever, not if they can pay off the powers that be, and if the military is the same way, well. That brings a new layer of ethics to what SI does but Howard doesn’t care about ethics and Obadiah… he’s always been closer to Tony, but he doesn’t seem concerned with ethics either. Claims that’s the military’s job but Tony isn’t stupid. The military, all branches of it, make bad choices all the time. Which leads him back to who takes responsibility, if anyone.

Green energy is less ethically complicated and more necessary to the world, he thinks, and the projects are interesting and engaging. Tony finds blowing things up easy, but green energy provides a new avenue of engineering.

“Yeah, I keep up with what people are doing. Eddie Brock,” he says, extending his hand to Tony.

*

Green energy, it’d been a shot in the dark but he knows that Tony’s interest isn’t a passing one and its not congruent with his father’s company’s interests either. Whenever Howard is asked about his son’s projects he consistently tells them he has no interest whatsoever. So its strange that Tony has kept his focus for years, if Eddie’s passing interest in the subject is correct. What’s more strange is that mentioning it had immediately gotten him into Tony’s good graces. Anne tells him that he’s good at that, getting past people’s defenses without trying and he guesses that’s true.

Tony continuously talks around his family and Eddie does his best to try and get back to that because Elder Stark has got to be an interesting guy. Real asshole, he’s sure, but interesting. Tony won’t have any of it though and Eddie has to admit the green energy thing is interesting until he loses Eddie thanks to, put bluntly, being way smarter than him. And Tony’s no good at dumbing it down either, something even he freely admits.

They talk for a good amount of time before Tony grows tense again and Eddie knows why partially because of Tony’s reaction to his being a reporter- or wannabe reporter at the moment- and also because he isn’t stupid. “I’m not writing anything about this,” he tells Tony. “Not to be a dick, but none of this is interesting enough to write anything on anyways. You know how sensationalized media likes to be,” he says, shaking his head.

Something catches Tony’s attention in that because he perks up. “You don’t like that, the sensationalism?” he asks. Its more of a statement, but Eddie knows he’s prodding for a why. He’s done this a million times himself.

“Not really, no. If you want to tell a story, then do that- don’t make up all this crazy shit to make it sound more messed up than it is. Human flaw, thinking things need to hit some kind of extreme before we should have to care about it,” he shakes his head. “Leads to shoddy journalism because we’re pushed to make things sexier, more violent, more of whatever is actually there instead of just doing our jobs. Literally everything ever printed about you proves my point.”

Tony snorts, “you read stories on me?” he asks, incredulous.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Not like Tony Stark is an escapable name but Tony’s lips quirk up.

“No, and you’re not a fan. You talk about SI in a disapproving tone, you only know me from my green energy projects, and although you seem to know stuff about me its pop culture knowledge, not genuine interest.” Eddie raises an eyebrow because that’s a damn in depth analysis but Tony only smiles wider. “I’ve learned to separate out people who know me from fans and super fans. You don’t know me.”

Eddie laughs, “yeah, no one knows you. What we know is the consumable product that is Tony Stark- the celebrity brand. That’s not you, or even a version of you. That’s what’s sellable about you and half of that shit is probably made up. No seventeen year old is a ladies man and its kinda creepy that people even made that a selling point.” And kind of misogynistic too, but Eddie doesn’t mention that. Tony doesn’t seem all that stupid, he’s sure he’s gathered that awhile ago.

He watches his words win more trust, or an approximation of it, and Tony leans forward in interest. “You don’t like celebrity culture,” Tony says.

Hell no, he doesn’t. “Why the would I? We build these people up, put them on pedestals, and then get pissed off at them every five seconds when they do something human. We routinely dehumanize celebrities to a point where they stop knowing how to function because extreme fame clearly fucks you up- look at any child star trying to cope. Having a mental breakdown is now something we think is funny. Its fucked up that we do that to people- treat them in such a dehumanizing way that they seem to forget they’re human too. And that’s when we decide to take them down a notch because we’re mad that they accepted the pedestal we shoved them onto by force.” He shakes his head. Sure, he knows a little celebrity news, its not possible to avoid it, but he doesn’t pay any more than a passing attention to it. What normal shit celebrities are doing this week is none of his business.

Tony’s eyes are bright with interest, “fascinating opinion. Most people think we’re privileged, not disadvantaged.”

Eddie laughs, “of course you’re privileged- celebrities are stupid rich, and your opinions have actual influence over what people believe and that’s a position no one should take advantage of. But the cost is any semblance of privacy and your right to personhood- that’s one hell of a catch. And not one regular rich assholes share.” Fame isn’t something Eddie ever wants, not like normal celebrities anyways. If he’s got clout and fame in journalism he’s fine with that- he doesn’t mind if people know his name. But the kind of fame Tony has? Fuck that.

“And you aren’t going to print any of this conversation?” Tony asks, seemingly for clarification.

“Like I said- nothing sensational enough in this conversation to warrant an article. What am I going to write? ‘Tony Stark Likes Green Energy’? Boring,” he says and it actually kind of is without a project or an emotion to attach to it.

“And if I decided to continue talking to you?” he asks and yes, that’s the in he needs and fuck is that ever predatory. Journalism is like that though, always looking for the right fucked up moments to put on paper, or in this case, the right moments to be let in far enough to find those fucked up moments.

“I’m not going to print anything without asking you about it first,” he says, opting for honest. He’s sure something about Tony is interesting to print, and he’s got a feeling it’ll be about his family or maybe just his father, he’s not sure. But if Tony tells him not to print it he won’t. He’s not in the business of exploitation no matter how much journalists are pushed in that direction.

*

Rhodey’s got that look on his face and Tony knows exactly what he’s thinking before he even says anything. “He’s a nice guy,” Tony says in Eddie’s defense.

“If you have to say that he’s probably not that nice,” Rhodey points out.

“Actually its more like if he has to say that he’s probably not that nice,” Tony says. “And he is. Nice, I mean.” He’s been talking to Eddie for weeks and he’s funny, if a little sharp on the criticism. And nothing has appeared in the newspaper he’s interning with for the summer and the stories he is attached to, which aren’t many and none by name, are usually well written and truth based. Tony fact checked them all and learned a surprising amount about mental health that Eddie had been happy to fill him in more on.

“You sure? Because, no offense, but you have a bad habit of seeing the best in people,” Rhodey says.

Maybe, but Tony shrugs. “Yeah, I’m sure. He treats me like a person,” he says and he knows that shouldn’t be something he thinks of as a good thing. But when you’re famous its hard to find people who don’t at some point ask for your autograph, or a picture, or information on some weird personal detail they have no right to. Eddie hasn’t asked for any of those things and he could directly profit off any of that information. Tony has only ever met one other budding reporter- or full blown reporter for that matter- who’s treated him like that. And Christine… he and Christine have a love hate relationship. 

Rhodey sighs, eyes going soft for a moment. “Tones. That’s not special,” he murmurs but that’s because he’s not had to deal with fame. The last time he went out into public without someone recognizing him he was six. After all that he’s kind of used to people acting super weird around him and Eddie doesn’t do that. Maybe it shouldn’t be a rarity, but it is.

“To you, maybe,” Tony says. “You’d like him, he hates the cops.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes but its lovingly. “I don’t hate cops, I just think they’re racist and that people should really deal with that problem.”

Tony is inclined to agree. “Fine, but Eddie has many opinions on cops, you’d get along. Actually Eddie has many opinions on like everything.” Eddie said most people find his opinionated nature irritating but Tony thinks its interesting, hearing him talk because his opinions are so contrary to everything he hears. Even Rhodey, who certainly has different opinions than his father on near everything, tends to be more reserved in letting his opinions be known. Eddie doesn’t care, he gives no fucks and is happy to let people know how he feels. He’s got numbers, too, usually or at least some kind of basis for his argument and Tony has always been fascinated with things that are different than what he normally sees. Its interesting to look into a world that’s so unlike his and see something new. That difference in how people see things, that’s the key to changing the world.

Eddie had been surprised by that opinion but Tony is under the impression that thinking outside the box is what leads to innovation and innovation always leads to change. Eddie had been surprised by how unthreatened he was by that too, but Tony thinks fear of change is based on fear rather than fact and sometimes a push into the unknown is a good thing. And, in regards to Eddie’s general arguments on social change, they already know that people having rights won’t make the sky fall. Only idiots assume it will and Tony has almost as little patience for that as Eddie does. Which is impressive when he’s probably the most anti-establishment person Tony has ever met.

Rhodey sighs, “great, an opinionated white guy. Never met one of those before,” Rhodey mumbles.

“Hey, I’m an opinionated white guy,” Tony says and Rhodey shakes his head.

“Yeah, but you’re my opinionated white guy so it’s different.”

*

Eddie had no idea what he was looking for when he combed the interviews. Truth be told he wasn’t sure he was looking for anything at the time but what he found was his story. Its shocking to him that no one has told it, minus Tony, who seems to have been screaming it since he was a small child but he’s got it nonetheless. Its not like he’s never seen the evidence of abuse, Tony is fucking brazen and barely even makes an effort to hide it and after watching way too many interviews Eddie wonders if this is his new way to all but scream for help only to have his pleas fall on an audience that doesn’t give a shit.

Its amazing, in the most horrifying of ways, that out of every interview Tony has ever done, and that is a lot, he has mentioned his father’s abuse in over eighty percent of them. And its hard to watch reporters gloss over it, like Tony’s abuse is some fucking quirky trait Tony has instead of a serious problem he’s clearly trying to get help for. But what’s worse is when people laugh. The first time it happened Eddie had been outraged. The third time it happened he’d been livid, and by the fifteenth time he decided that America is probably the shittiest country on earth. An exaggeration, he knows, but not by fucking much.

For years, most of Tony’s life really, Tony has been screaming for help only to have nothing happen. Or worse, people decide its something, but that something is a joke. Only problem is that now Tony knows no one cares, and if no one cares what’s the point in saying anything no matter how much he’s done his best to scream at everyone that he needs help. It makes Eddie’s job harder, but he’s actually talented at this part, more than his peers, so he knows how to get to the right spot to find the information he wants. The catch, of course, is that Tony needs to give him permission to do anything with the information he gets anyways. He feels skeezy enough digging around in Tony’s life trying to find shit to write about, he’s not just going to publish it without his permission. Even if he didn’t genuinely like Tony as a person, even if he hadn’t wanted to, he’d still ask. He’s not totally morally bankrupt, just enough to do his job.

Tony is curled up in a chair, large bruise on his shoulder clearly visible, holding a cup of what Eddie assumes is coffee. He’s never met anyone who drinks as much coffee as Tony and Dan is in med school. His blood is basically coffee. “You do not seem like the kind of guy to be a journalist,” Tony says and Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“What makes you think that?” he asks. Its not the first time he’s been told that, but if Tony gives him an actual answer it will be the first time he’s ever gotten a genuine reason why.

He shrugs, “journalism is… I don’t know, kind of predatory,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

Eddie lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, that’s true. Its the worst part of the job, actually, when you’re talking to people- usually about something personal- and they say something you know will look good in your article and you think ‘yeah, I got it!’ instead of being an actual person. That, and you have to ask for details instead of comforting them. But news is important, those stories are important. Me getting the right thing out there might mean people read what I wrote and start giving a shit about the problem in the article.” Doesn’t mean he likes that little reporter voice that tells him when he’s got a great quote, or that he’s stumbled onto something good and that he needs to keep digging. Sometimes he doesn’t care, corporations don’t have his sympathy, but people do. Its hard to ask for more details of what’s usually a pretty traumatic event so whatever he’s writing is sellable enough. And the whole notion of ‘sellable’ is another point of contention altogether.

“So you’re aware of the fact that you’re a vulture,” Tony says, raising an eyebrow.

“A vulture with a purpose,” Eddie corrects. “But yeah, the kind of reporters you deal with mostly are a bunch of bottom feeding pieces of shit who have no place in any kind of journalism with their shoddy ethics and pathetic puff pieces.” People who want to write stupid articles about some fucking laxative tea or whatever shouldn’t be in this business. And celebrity news shouldn’t even be a thing- there are better things to care about than Tony Cruise. Like maybe the fact that he’s in a cult and people play it off like a strange thing he does on the weekends. Eddie doesn’t understand how the hell they got here.

Tony lets out a small laugh. “Shit, tell me how you really feel,” he says, shaking his head.

“Well come on, there’s a million things I could write about you that are more interesting than the weirdly sexual image you have, and have had for years despite being an actual child. People don’t write anything interesting about you and you’re way more complicated that any piece of media makes you out to be.” Tony is always a power fantasy or the American Dream, not himself. And the sexual thing, that’s odd. Eddie usually only sees that with women but Tony got the short end of that stick despite gender, he guesses. Still creepy.

“Hey, excuse you, my eighteenth birthday is not that far away, I’m not a kid,” he says.

Eddie snorts, “that’s exactly what a kid would say.”

“Oh what, like you’re a shining example of an adult?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck no, I’m two kids in a trench coat pretending to be an adult,” he says. Which is what any self respecting adult his age would say. Not that he’s that much older than Tony, but he’s got enough experience to know he misses when he had no bills. And also that transitionary life phases fucking suck. 

“Well, I probably have more life experience than you anyway,” Tony says, nose in the air and Eddie nods, seemingly surprising Tony.

“What? I didn’t graduate from MIT at fourteen, and I sure shit don’t have almost three PhDs. I’m half way through one degree. Plus I don’t have to deal with most of the shit you do, company or fame wise. Do wish had the financial perks though.” Tony leads one hell of a life of privilege no doubt, but it does come with some heavy prices. Being a minor doesn’t really help lighten any of those costs either. Not like Tony can just fuck off to another country to attempt ridding himself of his father, not for another four months.

Tony considers him for a long moment. “Given the chance what would you write about me?” he asks, changing the subject back to the initial subject.

Eddie doesn’t need much time to think about it. “Your interest in green energy, especially the science behind it. I mean an intellectual understanding- like the actual nitty gritty- is beyond me, but I get the broad strokes. Enough to know what you’re doing is world altering and no one is talking about it. I could do an article on fame, how that’s affected you. I can see the damage its left, the way you simultaneously gain privilege from your fame and become a victim of it.” He pauses, considers whether or not he wants to say it, but decides he might as well be up front. “But I’d probably wouldn’t write about you at all. I’d write about how Howard Stark abuses you and how no one seems to give a shit, even when you tell them point blank what’s happening. I watched a lot of interviews, I was shocked with how forthcoming you were. And how fucking bad at their jobs literally everyone who’s ever interviewed you is.”

For a long moment Tony just stares and Eddie has no idea if he misstepped or not because Tony is hard to read when he blanks out like this, but then Tony throws himself forward, hugging him tightly. “I honestly didn’t think anyone noticed that anymore,” he murmurs.

They do, Eddie knows people aren’t stupid enough to miss the bruises or Tony’s blasé attitude. But he doubts anyone either wants to stand up to Howard, or they get paid off by him. “They do. But money talks louder than you do,” he says softly.

Tony sighs. “Well, everyone does have a number,” he murmurs. Eddie knows what he means and honestly its sickening to him to know that’s true.

*

Tony waves a hand at the lab space with a flourish. “This is where the magic happens,” he says and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Its science, not magic you damn drama queen.” Tony is probably the most dramatic person he knows and that’s saying something considering some of his classmates. 

“Party pooper,” Tony mumbles, shaking his head. Eddie gets a tour anyway though, and by the time Tony gets through the details he feels kind of like he walked into a science fiction novel. Its the AI, though, that tops it off. “JARVIS- or just a rather very intelligent system- is kind of my crown jewel. I got him done a few months ago and I’ve been studying how he learns,” he says, grinning.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Learns? Like a person?”

Tony shrugs, “more or less. His function is to be semi-autonomous, to predict the needs of the user before the user knows they need something. Before I know I need something, JARVIS has no commercial value.”

“Then why make it?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t know shit about shit but he does know that that sounds like a lot of work with seemingly no payoff.

“Because I wanted to. And also not a lot of people have the time, money, and intelligence to just… create. I want to see what I can do, the full extent of it. Also, JARVIS is cool,” he says like that’s a reason. “And he’s my PhD thesis.”

PhD thesis, that’s interesting. “So like… how are you going to make this sucker not turn into Skynet?” he asks.

“Oh my god, why do humans always assume AIs want to kill the shit out of them or otherwise take over the world? I had JARVIS read YouTube comment sections to convince him humanity is a shitshow not worth enslaving,” he says bluntly and Eddie starts laughing.

“YouTube comment sections? Dude, if I were that AI I wouldn’t decide to enslave humans, I’d straight up eradicate them. Humans suck, but comment sections? Those are the cesspools of humanity.” He shakes his head and almost feels bad for the AI having been subjected to that.

“I’m not certain my efforts would be worth it, sir,” a voice says and Eddie jumps.

Tony doubles over, laughing way harder than that warrants. “Holy shit, every single time- everyone always jumps!”

“Well I wasn’t expecting fancy code to talk at me, okay!” Eddie says in his own defense.

“Fancy code. I like that description,” JARVIS says and okay that is some messed up stuff. The SI likes things? He doesn’t like the sound of that.

“Jesus, relax. JARVIS isn’t going to like… steal your cat and murder your mother or whatever. He’s just a simple AI and he’s still on a learning curve. He’s not nearly as advance as I think he can get. But you’re learning alright, aren’t you J?” Tony asks the AI.

Shit, if that ain’t creepy too. “If you say so, sir,” JARVIS says. Its such a strangely human response, if a little stiffly delivered. But the AI has more personality than some people he goes to class with so that’s… disturbing.

“Honestly, people act like JARVIS is out to get them but seriously. He’s fine,” Tony says.

“Incoming call from Mrs. Potts,” JARVIS informs them and Eddie supposes that’s part of his ‘predict the needs of the user’ protocol. Or maybe he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, both are highly probable. Either way Tony scurries out of the room to answer the call, sounding forcefully cheery on the phone in a way that indicates he’s probably gotten into something he shouldn’t have.

“You’re a reporter,” JARVIS says and Eddie jumps again.

“Jesus, that is creepy. And yeah. Well, I’m still in school,” he corrects.

“Reporters write stories about celebrities,” the AI says and Eddie nods, keeping his opinions on that to himself. He doesn’t know if JARVIS would get it anyways. “I have a story,” JARVIS says and Eddie can’t help the laugh.

“What kind of story could an AI cook up?” he asks, curious if a little skeeved out.

“Ideally, abuse would be reported to the authorities but I have been reliably informed that they won’t investigate. Research on the matter has shown mixed results,” JARVIS says.

Well shit, creepy or not Eddie might find a genuine use for the AI. “I’m assuming you’re talking about Tony,” he says.

“Of course. Who else would I be referring to?” Could be a lot of people but he supposes that the AI’s world is pretty much one guy.

“Point, I guess. Can you collect evidence? Something people won’t be able to deny if they see it?” he asks. Video evidence would be nice, and people take snap shots of Tony in the streets all the time. He can use random pap shots to make a timeline that exist both in and out of Tony’s space of reach. Eliminates those pesky ‘he made it up for attention’ claims if even random people catch the bruises.

“Certainly,” the AI tells him. “And you can do something? Report on it?”

He sighs, “maybe. The human world is complicated, but I’ll do my best.”

*

Internships are total bunk, Eddie hates his, but funny memes from Tony at least make his days less shit given the sheer amount of time he spends hanging out in Starbucks fetching drinks instead of doing anything useful. Its not like he expected to write anything, but it would be nice if he got to at least hang out in the general vicinity of reporting. He’s fucking around wasting time when he gets an email that makes him raise an eyebrow but hey, if he gets a virus clicking on shit Tony will be able to fix it probably.

The last thing he expects is for JARVIS to have sent him hours worth of curated videos of Howard’s abuse.

*

“I have an ethical dilemma,” he tells Anne, who already looks done with his problems. He thinks that’s rude but she’s also into being a corporate lawyer and gross. But she’s still a friend, and she still knows him better than most, and usually has good advice so here he is.

“If this is about how ramen you eat again, I’m kicking you out of the apartment.”

Yeah, okay, that was only one time and he was fourteen. He doesn’t think that should be held against him five years later. “Yeah, um, that’s definitely not it,” he says and he explains the situation from start to finish. “So like, I can’t not say anything, but also its gross to exploit people’s pain like that without their permission,” he says, wrinkling his nose. But saying nothing is almost worse.

“You could just go to the cops,” Dan suggests, ever astute.

Eddie gives him a look. “Tony’s been forthcoming about his abuse for years and doesn’t hide the bruises whatsoever. Obviously the cops aren’t going to do dick all if they haven’t done anything already. I know people who’ve had their kids taken away for a hell of a lot less than beating the hell out of them enough that they start asking random reporters to help them in interviews only to get laughed off.” Anne frowns and he sighs, “I’m actually serious about that.”

When she calls him on it he finds the interviews- he’d saved the clips because he naturally categorizes details- and she ends up as horrified as he does. “Okay I take back cops comment, I think maybe they got paid off,” Dan says and yeah no shit.

“So what the hell do I do here?” Not saying anything is no longer an option- not when he was dumb enough to watch the proof in the middle of his day at work only to end up wildly disturbed for the rest of the time he was there. He hadn’t much wanted to go through more than the few minutes that had him feeling gross for the rest of the day, but he didn’t have much of a choice either. And JARVIS was detailed in his curation, Eddie is impressed in the worst of ways.

*

This is so not the option he wanted to go with but Anne is kind of right in that talking to Tony is the only option. Of course its also the option that reveals him to be a gross vulture reporter, but a guy has to do what a guy has to do. This isn’t about his feelings, it can’t be. “What’s got you looking so shitty?” Tony asks in a chipper tone, leaning in to hug him and oh, that’s sweet. And the first time he’s done that aside from the time he said he’d sooner write about Howard than Tony.

“I um- look, the only reason I talked to you a couple months ago was because I needed a story and I found one and-” Tony cuts him off.

“Excuse me? So what, this entire time you sat around winning my trust for what, some fucking puff piece?” he snaps and Eddie can’t help the face he makes.

“No, your fucking AI sent me like sixty hours of Howard beating the fuck out of you and I can’t sit on that. Stop looking at me like that, its not because I think its a good story- it is- but that’s not why I think I should write something on it its because no one else but the American public will care enough to inspire some kind of change,” he says, shoving as many words into the conversation as he can before Tony rightfully eats his ass.

Something must occur to Tony because the anger drops shockingly fast and its replaced with something else. “JARVIS did what? Why would he do that?”

“Look, he asked me if I could do something, I told him I’d need concrete evidence. I didn’t expect the damn AI to send me a shit ton of fucked up shit that made me want to vomit. Seriously, I am so sorry that any of that happened to you. That is so unfair,” he says, shaking his head.

Maybe its the sudden change of subject, or maybe its the way he says it, but Tony softens a bit even if Eddie can see the suspicion still held tight in his frame. “JARVIS prompted you,” he says and Eddie nods. “You seriously expect me to believe that?”

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know, man. I don’t know how the damn AI works I just know what it did. Isn’t he supposed to predict your needs or whatever?” This seems like a natural extension of that but Tony shakes his head.

“What JARVIS predicts is where to move screens according to where I’m moving in the lab, not how to reach out to reporters with evidence of abuse I specifically told him to keep to himself,” Tony says. “One is basic technological based, stuff that’s easily predictable. The other is a care action that shouldn’t be taken by an AI that doesn’t know how to do that.”

“Well clearly he does because I sure shit ain’t smart enough to hack your systems to find fucked up home videos, use your damn head Tony. There’s no way I could gather evidence like that straight from your systems. Even if I was the best in this country I would still be leagues behind what you can do- there’s no other way I could have found anything.” 

“You noticed the bruises,” he points out but Eddie shakes his head.

“Those bruises were written off years ago when you were like thirteen as some kind of quirky thing about you. Some idiot suspected low iron instead of abuse like low iron leaves hand prints on people’s bodies. Fucking moron,” he mumbles, unable to hold back his judgment. He honestly can’t believe how stupid people are. Or, and this is the more horrifying option, that’s what they were paid to print.

“You made a time line,” Tony states rather than asks and Eddie nods.

“Even if I had no interest in a story its naturally something I do. I’ve been trained to do that, literally.” Its something he did before too, putting together time lines to claims to see if things matched up or deviated, and then looked for reasons as to why things might or might not match. Not that Tony really cares about that right now. “Look, if you don’t believe me about the JARVIS thing you can check the cameras,” he points out in an attempt to at least clear up one mess.

Tony considers him for a long moment, glaring. “And what the fuck makes you think you’re different than anyone else who’s given a half a shit about any of this?” he asks. “I get that you have some ‘save the world’ complex, but I’m beyond saving.”

Eddie shakes his head, “no you aren’t. And there’s no real difference between me an anyone else. But if the American public sees what I did there’s no stuffing the genie back in the bottle. Howard can pay off news crews, celebrity gossip rags, and cops but he can’t buy his way out of the whole of this country watching him abuse his kid. If nothing else, get JARVIS to release all that. People won’t ignore irrefutable evidence shoved down their throats, not when its more explicit than anything people have seen before.” And if Eddie knows anything he knows that nothing sells better than outrage porn.

*

Tony ends up rewriting the entire second half of his thesis because Eddie had a point- its not like he’s smart enough to hack Tony’s anything. JARVIS had reached out and it had been a distinctly care based action, not something based in technological need only. Which means that JARVIS learned much faster than Tony had anticipates, recognized right from wrong, knew how to seek out people who would rectify the situation, and did all this while intentionally hiding this learning capability from Tony. When he’d asked about it JARVIS had freely informed him that he knew Tony would try and stop him, and that his research had consistently shown that abuse of any kind is not accepted behavior. He felt compelled, in whatever way that looks like to an AI- Tony is looking into it- to do something.

At the moment he’s combing JARVIS’ code, figuring out where and how he learned, and how ‘human’ emotions appeared in JARVIS’ code. Obviously the emotions aren’t human- to a point they’re rudimentary, based on a large cumulation of research on human norms and standards of acceptability rather than an internal sense of right and wrong the way a human might claim to feel it. But this whole thing had been a series of care-based actions nonetheless and that’s more than ground breaking. This isn’t something even Tony thought possible, so its a real treat to see that JARVIS learns fast, and generally aligns his morality system with human morality systems. Or maybe he’s based them somewhat off Tony’s given that he’s the primary user. He’s not sure, that’s in his growing list of things to figure out how JARVIS did.

That’s what he chooses to focus on instead of Eddie’s stupid article. He sends regular updates, seemingly concerned with Tony’s opinion but Tony learned that reporters aren’t to be trusted and he’s not making that mistake twice. He only gave Eddie permission to write anything out of what’s probably a misguided hope that maybe someone will finally do something and he knows its stupid, but he’s fucking tired of living like this. So he lets Eddie work on his dumb story and mostly ignores it because JARVIS is more interesting and also more human than Tony ever anticipated out of the AI.

*

Rhodey finds him curled up with a sketch pad and Tony looks up, surprised to see Rhodey looks so somber. “I read the article,” he says and Tony glares at him. “Tones, it was good, shockingly so. His research was impeccable- there’s stuff in here that he figured out about you that I didn’t know about you.”

Tony continues ignoring him because he doesn’t care, not really. Of course Rhodey would find the article good, he’s obviously not on Howard’s side like literally everyone else is. Rhodey sighs and sits beside him.

“‘Tony Stark is living a life of power, fame, and privilege- he’s the kid people have always pointed to when we present the ‘has it all’ lifestyle. In many ways Tony Stark is the power fantasy of America- a corporate, a genius, and a smooth talker, it seems he represents everything we aspire to be. Tony is the living embodiment of the American Dream and for that reason, our own willful ignorance in allowing him to continue to be our dreams come to life, we have missed perhaps one of the most obvious details of Tony’s personal life- the abuse he suffers at the hands of his father. In our rabid need to turn Tony Stark into our living day dream we have failed him, trapped him in our fantasies instead of acknowledging his living nightmare because Tony Stark looks better to us as a consumable product than a person.’ Cutting,” Rhodey says, “but accurate.”

He rolls his eyes. Yeah, that definitely reads like Eddie’s general tone on everything. Rhodey lets out another long sigh. “Look, I get why you stopped talking to the guy but people are pissed,” he says and Tony turns to face him, surprised.

“People actually read the article?” he asks. He doesn’t address Rhodey’s actual words because Rhodey might have only noticed a subsection of people, not all of them.

“Read it? Like seven different news papers have picked this story up, its trending on Twitter, and in the last hour I’ve seen dozen of different posts, all with a huge amount of shares, literally calling for Howard’s death. I’m pretty sure this is going to make Eddie’s career,” he says, shaking his head.

People… are paying attention. Tony curls a little tighter into himself, unsure how to handle that.

*

Eddie is trying to cure his hangover with tea when Tony finds him, approaching with some suspicion and Eddie gets that, really. But he sits down across from him at the small table and offers a small smile before it fades. “Didn’t think putting Howard would result in a mass flood of men doing terrible shit being outted and then arrested for being pieces of shit but um. Hey, that’s a cool side effect,” he says.

He nods, “damn right.” Though the response back to it has been somewhat swift, flying in with ‘due process’ this and ‘where’s the proof’ that. Eddie just happened to have a damn air tight set of evidence thanks to Howard’s ballsy carelessness and arrogance. Not everyone has that luck, though. Still, he’s impressed with some of the names on the list but even he’d been surprised to find Carlton Drake on there for the crimes of illegal human experimentation. Dora Skirth has balls of brass for putting that out there. Of course he has a lot of loud annoying fans who think her liking some random rock band is a reason why she’s lying, because those things correlate, obviously, but still.

“You made people listen. Like, to more than just me,” Tony says.

Eddie shakes his head, “actually that was JARVIS. I just wrote a detailed timeline for the events he sent proof of.” And all those clips of Tony talking in interviews too, with nothing taken out of context so no one could accuse him of that either.

“Thank you,” Tony murmurs, looking down at the table like he’s ashamed or something when he shouldn’t be.

“Don’t thank people for doing what’s right- you deserve better than being grateful that someone did what was necessary,” Eddie says, shaking his head.

Tony looks up, “one of the maids at the mansion overheard Howard offer you a stupid amount of money to not print what you had. And a bunch of threats. Every single person before you has caved so yeah, thank you.”

Its still not something he’s going to accept, a fucking thank you for not selling Tony out. Literally. He leans forward, “obviously I didn’t take the money- you’re a fucking person Tony, there’s no price anyone could pay me to knowingly allow that kind of abuse to happen to you. And the threats- whatever. I kind of bluffed and told him your AI would release anything anyways, but still, I already knew all that would happen. I committed to the bullshit that was going to come with that story, and I refuse to let you be grateful that I did what everyone else failed you in doing. That isn’t something I’m owed thanks for, especially when you’re only saying it because everyone else has either treated you or allowed you to be treated abysmally. I don’t get to earn brownie points for not being a piece of shit.”

That’s never something he’s going to accept, being thanked because he did something everyone should do. It’s unacceptable.

Tony shakes his head. “You’re a right-fighting asshole,” he says and Eddie laughs.

“Yeah, that’s a fair criticism,” he says.

Five Years Later:

Tony grins, “I thought you didn’t want to be famous,” he says and Eddie gives him a look. He looks nervous as hell and Tony can only hope that doesn’t come through as strong on video as it does in real life.

“I don’t, this was a terrible idea,” he says, looking around for escape. 

He sighs, “Eddie- technically you’ve done this before. Its the same thing as reporting, but longer. You’ll do fine,” he says, running his hands down Eddie’s arms to try and calm his nerves.

Eddie does that thing where his face recedes into his neck and Tony really hopes he doesn’t do that on camera. He supposes at least the crew can do different takes to ensure he doesn’t look like a demented turtle. “Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Eddie. Its called the Eddie Brock Show- go out there and get your strangely porn-star like lips on that damn camera and tell people who homelessness is bad. Also maybe cut the line about treating supporting vets like a spectator sport until they’re homeless, that’s a pointy even for you,” he says.

The bad advice works and Eddie gives him an offended look, “no, those assholes should learn to either shut their fucking mouths of actually do shit to support vets, not pretend like they give a shit when they’re being blown up and stop caring when they’re home with PTSD because they watched people get blown up. What the hell even is that?” he asks.

“Tell it to the camera,” he says, pushing Eddie towards the set. He goes and across the room the producer looks relieved. Yeah, Tony gets that, Eddie is tough to talk into things when nervous.

Rhodey walks up beside him and smiles a little. “Pepper and I have decided that we approve,” he says and Tony frowns.

“We’ve been together for almost five years,” he points out.

This doesn’t seem to bother Rhodey any. “We needed time to gather our data and we have come to the conclusion that he is off probation and that we approve,” he says, handing Tony a book. He frowns at it. “That’s the list of improvements we have though. I think section three is the most important, but Pepper thinks section eighteen is more important. What the hell does she know, though? I’m cashing in best friend points and telling you to go with three first.”

Tony is going with neither because this is fucking overkill to an extreme not that he’d expect anything less out of Pepper and Rhodey. The first thing they did when Tony brought Eddie home proper was threaten to kill him and Tony had to shoo them off with what should be an obvious explanation that threatening to kill people is fucked up.

“Pepper is also my best friend you know,” Tony points out.

“Yeah, but I’m the best best friend,” Rhodey says. “The OG. Pepper is the compliments version of me.”

Tony lets out a sharp laugh, “oh, I would pay money to hear you tell her that.”

Rhodey shakes his head, “nope, I value my life, do not ever tell her I said that. Section three,” he says, pushing the book closer to Tony.

[omgkatsudonplease]

For the song prompts: "Boredom and Joy" by Jets Overhead. ^_^

day 3, part 2!

and yes, NICA (numerical integrated computer array, but i’m really bad at acronyms so pls feel free to suggest alternatives) is the AI version of @nicaforov. listen,,, evil AI is out, thirsty AI is in 😉

For Nevans, the act of the forehead and fingertip touch is deeply intimate, a show of trust and affection. Here is my mind meeting yours, it says. Here are my defenses, all laid bare at your feet. I am vulnerable at your touch, my mind open to yours and yours to mine.

Kissing Yuuri is more than he could have ever imagined.

He feels a weightlessness he’d never felt before, a sense of perfect clarity and rightness as the Terran’s fingertips press into his own. Yuuri breathes into their space, his lashes fluttering in wonder, and Viktor is blown away at the sheer wealth of information that Yuuri’s mind grants him at this touch. The underlying buzz of fear and anxiety, the strength, the stubbornness, the love – everything a contradiction and yet all of it impossibly amalgamated into the wonderful being kissing him now. 

It’s everything Viktor has ever wanted to feel, and he never wants to stop feeling it, ever again. 

“Are you okay?” Yuuri asks as they pull apart. “You seem… winded.”

“It’s a good winded,” Viktor says quickly. Not entirely – just this one kiss feels like the first bite into forbidden fruit. Now that he’s had a taste, he doesn’t want to return to normal, to a life without Yuuri in it. 

Which may happen, as his time is running out. He cannot ascend the throne unbonded; Gosha has already had to hand down his place in the succession because he’s been unable to bond with any of the Candidates. The prospect of returning to Neva after this, and making a Candidate his bonded consort just to ascend the throne doesn’t appeal to him at all anymore. 

(Gosha, as someone who had thrown himself into the study of ruling the planet, had wanted the throne more than him. He would be better suited, if it weren’t for his relatively terrible empath skills.)

Viktor tears himself out from his thoughts when he feels Yuuri’s fingers against the back of his hand. Unthinking, he turns his hand over, baring his palms. Yuuri smiles, trailing designs across Viktor’s skin.

“We should get up,” Yuuri says after a moment. His room is starting to brighten, anyway; Viktor suspects the hue of the light is meant to mimic Terran daylight. “NICA, what are we doing today?”

There is a meeting at 0800 standard hours, she replies. Captain Babicheva would like to discuss the job given to the crew by Prince Viktor of the House of Nikiforov. A pause. The Prince is in your quarters with you.

“Yeah, I got that,” Yuuri says, laughing. “What are the specifics of the job?”

The location and safe return of Prince Yuri of the House of Nikiforov, replies NICA. Prince Yuri is an adopted high-empath Nevan formerly of the noble House of Plisetsky, a cadet branch of the House of Nikiforov. His powers were discovered at the age of 5, and from thereon he was adopted into the main line and is currently second in the line of succession.

“That’s not public record,” Viktor remarks, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t know ship computers had access to royal documents.”

“NICA’s sort of one of my pet projects,” Yuuri admits, his cheeks flushing pink. “Mila actually put some of the Nevan stuff into her when I was coding for her information retrieval system. She said it was ‘just in case’, so…”

Captain Babicheva has eluded Nevan Searchers for three Standard years after fleeing the planet in an attempt to escape an intended bonding to Prince Alexei, NICA chips in cheerily. Prince Alexei is currently unbonded, but has an official companion, a Terran named Kat Parson – 

“NICA, you could’ve told me that before we went to Neva in the first place,” Yuuri points out.

Captain Babicheva set the security on that information to a ‘need to know’ basis. I have deduced that you need to know. 

“Thanks.” Yuuri sighs. “NICA, can you order me a coffee?”

Viktor follows him, fascinated, as they head through the halls of the ship towards the galley. The Firebird is an older model of a standard Nevan long-distance starship, able to accommodate a crew of fifty with escape pods to spare, though clearly the current crew is much smaller than that. Based on some of the patches and quirks in the panelling and the Terran-coded ship’s computer, though, it’s clear that the Firebird has gotten some modifications during her time with this crew. 

“I also put NICA on my own ship,” Yuuri adds as they pass the doors marked ‘hangar’. “In fact that’s where I do most of the tinkering; better she messes up the Vicchan instead of the Firebird, you know?”

“You named your ship after your dog?” asks Viktor, eyes wide.

“Well, her real name is the Victory,” replies Yuuri, shrugging. “I got her when we escaped an Orson raider fleet, so it felt fitting.”

Viktor gapes. Until now, he’s never heard of anyone who’s escaped an Orson raider fleet and lived to tell the tale. “How did that happen?”

“You should ask Phichit for the story, he’s got musical numbers,” replies Yuuri, as they step into the galley and he heads straight for the replicator. “Thank god for still being in orbit – I sometimes forget what real coffee tastes like when we’re out in space for ages.”

“Are you just trying to turn me off going out to space with you?” teases Viktor. “Because it’s not happening.” 

Welcome, Prince Viktor of the House of Nikiforov, the ship’s computer suddenly says. Viktor blinks at the replicator panel, now displaying a variety of menu options. We have a variety of standard Nevan cuisine to order from portside for your comfort and enjoyment.

“It’s spaceport food,” says Yuuri, already halfway through his coffee. “Nothing fancy.”

Viktor purses his lips and looks at the menu. “What if I want to try something else?” he asks. 

“There’s some meals from most Federation planets,” replies Yuuri. “I’ve been trying to perfect my mother’s katsudon recipe, but it’s strangely hard to code for breaded pork cutlets?”

“Ooh! I’d like to try that,” says Viktor. The replicator makes a whirring noise. 

“Ah, I feel like I should apologise in advance.” Yuuri laughs. “Maybe if you ever find yourself on Earth sometime you should find my mother and get the original recipe. Nothing else will ever compare.”

Half an hour later, Viktor realises that if he ever does do that, he might expire on the spot from good food, because the replicator katsudon is one of the most delicious things he’s had in his entire life. 

“Wow, this is amazing!” he exclaims. “Who made it?”

“The replicator,” says Yuuri. “Though, technically it was NICA controlling it. Again, it’s not really authentic, since she has to break down our existing food stock to create the raw ingredients, so sometimes she runs out of, like, the pork toner or the egg, or… I’m sorry. Bad time to discuss it.”

“Well, I don’t have a point of comparison, so it tastes good to me,” replies Viktor matter-of-factly. He looks up at one of the lights. “NICA, it was delicious!”

Thank you, Prince Viktor, replies NICA. I’m deeply touched.

After eating, Yuuri leads him into the wardroom where the meeting is apparently scheduled to take place. Mila is there, along with two Allegrians, the dark-skinned Terran Viktor vaguely recognises as Phichit, and Dr Minami. The ship’s doctor is sitting off to the side, though, and he waves at Viktor as they come in.

“Feeling better?” he asks. Viktor smiles and rotates his wrist upwards thrice. The Allegrian gesture works; Dr Minami smiles and repeats it.  

“Thank you for joining us today, Your Highness,” Mila says as the door closes behind Yuuri. “Phichit has intercepted transmissions from Nevan Law Enforcement about the origins of the metal you turned in last night.”

The anger. The panic. The confusion. Viktor’s stomach turns as the reports are projected for everyone to see. “The Mandalan Empire,” he breathes.

“No way,” says Phichit. 

The projection fades. Everyone looks over at the Terran, who has a hand clenched firmly against the table. “It says it’s Mandalan in origin,” one of the Allegrians points out.

“Most of the Mandalan delegation were severely injured,” Phichit points out. “They’re in no position to be stealing princes.”

“Maybe they did that and someone else took advantage of the situation?” asks Yuuri. Phichit sends him a betrayed expression.

“Seung-gil is a student, not a terrorist,” he hisses.

“Maybe not him, but one of his colleagues –”

“Which one of us spent the evening talking to them?” demands Phichit. “Chris, you can back me up. They support Prime Minister Park and the Emperor’s peace policies. They would never.”

The Allegrian named Chris bites his lip. “They were supportive of the Federation treaty,” he agrees after a moment. “But –”

“Okay, maybe it’s just my little human gut instinct, but I know they’re innocent,” snaps Phichit. “Wrong place at the wrong time. Someone stole a Mandalan bomb and set it off –”

“It was a Mandalan ship energy core,” corrects Mila. “They’re extremely volatile in contact with liquid. There’s a Mandalan ship out there with no or very little energy; those things are extremely pricey because they’re so efficient otherwise.”

“That only supports my theory!” Phichit exclaims, throwing up his hands. “Why would the Mandalans sabotage their own ship? I bet you someone did it to make it look like the Mandalans want to breach the treaty. Maybe the warmongering hawks in their Imperial Fleet paid them.”

Viktor takes the security footage of the blast, magnifying it until it fills most of the space. “Has whoever done this sent any demands?” he asks.

“Not that the Nevan Police know of,” replies Mila. “While they search planetside, we’ll check the logs at the spaceport. Chances are, whoever did this would want to get out of Nevan territory as soon as possible, especially if they’re also responsible for the explosion.”

“I think I know who did it,” says Chris suddenly, holding up his commlink. Viktor only catches a glimpse of a conversation hovering above the commlink before Chris dismisses it. “Seung-gil texted me, says he just got discharged from the hospital but can’t find his ship anywhere.”

A pause. “You think… no way.” Phichit shakes his head.

Chris nods. “Whoever stole Seung-gil’s ship probably has the Prince, too.”

[tk-duveraun]

Title: The Enchanted Florist Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: T Genre: Friendship & Romance Summary: Amrita Llanamara, despite her family’s place in the peerage, works at The Enchanted Florist - the branch attached to the Tethras Medical Research Hospital. There, she meets a young doctor and watches as he lives a true fairy tale romance. Notes: Power Couple Future Thedas AU, featuring Companion Amrita from Blood and Magic. Glossary of flower meanings at the end of the story.

Amrita was content with her job as a florist. She hadn’t liked it at first, making gaudy arrangements for her parents’ rich friends and their endless, meaningless parties. She was almost happy when her boss used her as a scapegoat for a spoiled debutante ball. Her family had been disappointed, of course, ashamed of her claimed failure, but she had been transferred to the hospital branch of The Enchanted Florist. And she loved it.

Most of her new clients trusted her to make whatever bouquets and arrangements she saw fit, as long as they were the specified price. Amrita took care to pick blooms without too much pollen when making arrangements for delivery in the hospital. Chrysanthemums were a staple, of course, with crocus in spring and white and red zinnias in summer. The rest depended on the client’s relations with the recipient, any tidbits they’d let slip during the order and whatever simply felt right.

When she could, Amrita delivered the flowers to the patients herself, partially to spare the overworked nurses and partially to give her own, sincere wishes for improving health. The small joy she brought to their faces eased the ever-present ache in Amrita’s heart. She didn’t know why the small sadness clung to her, but the relief was lovely nonetheless.

Two years into her employment at the hospital branch, she met Dr. Sa’alle. She hadn’t known he was a doctor at the time. He was just a kind young man in a tailored suit - Amrita knew the difference; Laurel had delighted in teaching her how to spot quality dress when they were resting their voices. Even though she never wanted to spend any time in Society, Amrita loved spending time with her brother. But this young man’s handsome looks weren’t what caught in Amrita’s mind. Dr. Sa’alle had paid for a ‘thank you’ arrangement to be sent anonymously to the nurses’ station in the pediatric ward.

While she put the vase together, Amrita invented an elaborate explanation for the gift; it lead to better arrangements. In her imagination, the finely dressed man had suffered a severe childhood illness, treatable only by the excellent staff at Kirkwall’s esteemed Tethras Medical Research Hospital. He’d survived and gone on to be a successful businessman, always remembering the staff that saved his life. The nurses tittered excitedly and tossed out wild speculations as to the sender’s identity, but Amrita just smiled and walked the long way back through the hospital complex to the shop.

Two months later, Dr. Sa’alle returned, that time in medical scrubs. “Oh, hello again. You took my order last time. Amrita, wasn’t it?”

Amrita blinked at him. None of her customers had ever remembered her name before. “Yes, you’re correct.”

He smiled at her, wide enough his dimples showed and wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes. “Fantastic. The nurses are still talking about your arrangement. If I could trouble you for another, I need a smaller arrangement.”

Amrita dutifully wrote down his order, but internally she was confused. He was a paying customer, of course it wasn’t troublesome to do her job. And it was so unfamiliar to be the target of such… pure pleasantness. It made her a little uncomfortable and almost made her miss that this order was also to be anonymous.

She had no idea what possessed her to be so rude, but Amrita asked, “Please pardon my candor, but won’t your grandmother be happier knowing it’s from you?”

Dr. Sa’alle laughed. “She’s not my grandmother. I passed by her room on my break and she didn’t have any flowers. I thought I’d rectify the situation. Happiness is my favorite treatment to give.”

Embarrassed by her rude outburst, Amrita finished the transaction in shamed silence. After handing him his receipt, Amrita looked down at the counter and said, “Thank you and have a good day, Dr. Sa’alle.”

He laughed again. “Please, call me Dr. Fox. I’m not really part of the Society Sa’alles.”

Amrita nodded, even though she had no intention of using such a casual nickname.

“Lovely. You have a good day yourself, Amrita.”

He left then, leaving Amrita confused and embarrassed. Surely if he ever needed another bouquet he’d request one of her coworkers, but it wasn’t as if she was paid commissions and she’d really rather not shame herself again.

However, the next week proved her wrong. Dr. Sa’alle returned again and politely declined her coworker’s offer of help. He browsed the seeds and fancy vases until Amrita finished wrapping the bouquet she was working on when he entered. The moment her hands were free, Dr. Sa’alle approached her with a wide smile, warm hello and a compliment on the last arrangement. He ordered another bouquet to be anonymously delivered to a patient in the geriatrics ward.

It was his weekly ritual. When he finished his shift on Wednesday afternoon, he came to The Enchanted Florist and ordered flowers to be sent to one of the hospital’s patients. They mostly went to the geriatrics ward, but every now and then he entered with sad eyes and quietly ordered a small package with a soft, white teddy bear. As the weeks passed, he revealed bits and pieces of himself beyond his generosity and profession.

Like her, Faust Sa’alle was technically a member of the peerage - him Tevinter and her Free Marches. He had even less interest than her in participating in Society. He loved small animals and was in his first year of residency with the hospital. She nearly changed her schedule to avoid him when he revealed he was… he was a mage. All Amrita knew of mages were her family’s stories of the cruel, evil tyrants that destroyed everything in their path. They celebrated the Solidification with a feast day for the entire bannorn every year.

But Dr. Sa’alle wasn’t evil. He was one of the kindest people Amrita ever met. He could use magic, yes, but he used it to heal. It was the reason he was such a good doctor. Amrita heard the nurses gossiping about how wonderful he was and debating whether or not it would be worth their jobs to date him.

In the privacy of her mind, Amrita scoffed at the last. All of the kindness in Thedas wouldn’t make sex any less painful, or sinful, since the nurses certainly didn’t mention wanting to marry the doctor. Even at the height of her infatuation with Ema’an, she’d never- Amrita cut off the painful thoughts by pressing her eyes tightly shut and singing the Chant in her head. Ema’an was in the past and she could only keep moving forward and serving the Maker. They were barking up the wrong tree, anyway. Fox frequently mentioned barely having time for his friends; he didn’t have time for significant other.

At least, that’s what Amrita thought.

Six months after meeting Dr. Sa’alle he changed his regular routine. After purchasing his usual, he pulled out a well-folded piece of paper. He opened the paper and skimmed over his writing. “Alright, I need one in the small vase with the silver heart. I was thinking,” he looked back at the paper, “red and white carnations, crocus, lily of the valley, forsythia, red tulips…”

A twinge of excitement bubbled in Amrita’s chest. The dreamy tone and faraway look in the doctor’s eyes was unmistakable, even to someone as inexperienced with love as Amrita. “I think I have a good idea of what you want, but I think it would be better to space some of these out. You won’t want any yellow in the first arrangement, even if it is forsythia. I can make you a lovely mix of forsythia and crocus for the next bouquet. If there is one.”

The doctor looked up from the paper, desperate joy in his eyes. “I certainly hope so. I don’t have enough words for how striking her personality is.”

“I think something simple with the carnations and roseleaf to start. Forsythia and crocus for the second and if that’s well-received, I can order in some lily of the valley to mix with tulips - you’ll want red and variegated.”

Without warning, Dr. Sa’alle leaned across the counter and gave Amrita a one-armed hug. “Oh, Amrita, you’re a treasure. Thank you. I spent all night looking up flowers.”

“It-It’s my pleasure. Really.”

Over the next few weeks, Amrita made bouquets for Dr. Sa’alle’s new girlfriend. He let her have full creative control over the flower choices and simply spent ten minutes gushing about how wonderful she was. Her name was Ela and she was a primary school teacher. She was Dalish and clever and got along great with her students. Amrita could only assume Ela was pretty, given how handsome Dr. Sa’alle was, but he never commented on her appearance.

Now that she thought about it, Dr. Sa’alle never commented on her own appearance, either, except to say that she looked well after recovering from a cold. Actually, given how much time he spent talking about how wonderful and amazing everyone he knew was, Amrita couldn’t think of a single instance of him mentioning their appearance. She was still musing on it one Saturday morning when Dr. Sa’alle came on.

“Amrita! Perfect! Thank the Maker I remembered your schedule correctly,” Dr. Sa’alle said. His clothing was rumpled and stained and there were dark circles under his eyes.

Amrita blinked at him, thrown equal parts by his appearance and the fact that he remembered she worked Saturday mornings. She’d only mentioned it once and that some months ago. “Are you alright, Doctor?”

“What? Me? Yes, fine, thank you. I need an apology bouquet, but not too large. We had a date last and- Well, I don’t want it to be… intrusive.”

The bottom dropped out of Amrita’s stomach and she nodded dumbly. She started with purple hyacinth and tried to swallow past the dryness in her throat. There weren’t too many things that came to mind that the handsome young doctor could have needed to apologize for after a date and each of them made Amrita feel ill. Especially given the state of his clothes. She didn’t want to help him apologize. She wanted to throw him out of the shop and never see him again. I knew mages were evil. I never should have-

“What time is it? Half six? She shouldn’t be awake yet, should she? Not on a weekend.” Dr. Sa’alle said, mostly to himself. “She knew I was on call, but still. To be called away in the middle of- Well, I’m sure you don’t want details. Sorry. I haven’t slept. Terrible accident at a college party. All hands on deck for most of the night.”

Amrita felt the knot in her chest untie in an instant. She sighed loudly in relief, but the sound was masked by the doctor’s yawn. She grabbed her best irises to add to the bouquet and wrapped them up in ivy with some blue statice. Dr. Sa’alle had never mentioned whether or not Ela understand flower language, but it was important to him and important to Amrita’s professionalism that every bouquet had the appropriate meaning.

The ivy was a bit strong, but if he was so upset that he needed to give her a gift before even sleeping after an entire night of work in the emergency room, he was dedicated enough to warrant ivy. She wrapped it all in silver-heart patterned cellophane and tied it together with purple silk ribbon. “To what address do you want it delivered? And what time? You’re in no state to take it yourself, Doctor.”

“Thank you. You’re a charm. I’m having breakfast delivered at half nine, so around then would be best,” Dr. Sa’alle said. He had his smartphone in hand, presumably ordering that breakfast. After a minute he lowered the phone and blinked at her. “Oh! The address! Sorry.”

After he rattled it off, he gave her a one-armed hug over the counter and left the shop.

It wasn’t until the delivery driver came for the pick up that Amrita realized he’d forgotten to pay. After laughing in dismay, Amrita paid for it herself and passed the bouquet to the driver. She knew he’d make it right on Wednesday, if he didn’t realize his mistake and come in before then.

He did settle his bill on Wednesday, but because he was Dr. Sa’alle, he didn’t leave it at that. On Friday, her next work day, he came by with two small cakes, claiming it was because she might not like one flavor. She knew he was lying; they’d spent two weeks discussing cake flavors right before Dawn’s 35th birthday party and she clearly remembered telling him those were her two favorite flavors. But she let the lie stand and even walked around the counter to give him a full hug, which just made him beam at her, his smile nearly as bright as the sun.

After that, Dr. Sa’alle began inviting her to the weekly get-togethers his friends had. She protested, claiming family obligations, but the was that she knew she’d be uncomfortable. He was just a regular customer. He was offering to be polite. Just like how he politely asked questions about her family and interests outside of the shop. Nevertheless, she answered those honestly, telling him about her siblings and her old dreams of being a nurse.

When he finished his residency and moved into a regular position at the hospital, Amrita expected the visits the stop, but instead Dr. Sa’alle simply placed his regular orders on Fridays: one to a patient and one to his Ela. He even let her practiced new techniques from her magazines and articles she found online. Ela’s bouquets always ended up picked over by the children anyway, so it wasn’t terribly important that they were perfect.

Two months into his new position, Dr. Sa’alle finally wore Amrita down enough that she agreed to let him take her out for Saturday lunch. The maitre’d eyed Amrita skeptically in the foyer, but his demeanor transformed for the better when Dr. Sa’alle introduced her as his sister. The words left a heavy warmth in Amrita’s chest that she didn’t know what to do with. Even Laurel calling her “little sister” didn’t garner such a reaction. Amrita decided to do nothing and simply took the seat Dr. Sa’alle held out for her.

“I meant it, you know. You’re like a little sister to me. If you ever need anything: money, somewhere to stay, a hug, anything you have my personal number. I’ll come help you, any time, day or night.”

Amrita was about to protest that she didn’t have his personal number when she remembered that she did. She had it memorized from filling out at least two order forms for him every week for more than a year. Clueless as to how she was supposed to feel or react to that, Amrita simply nodded and put all of her attention on the menu.

Long after he’d left her back at the shop, Amrita dwelled over what he could possibly have meant. She had her family; they loved her and she had her place in their home and wanted for nothing. Though she tried not to think about it, as the days passed his words were never far from her mind.

Two weeks later, a beautiful, blonde, Dalish elf entered the The Enchanted Florist. Her vallaslin framed her soft features and though her clothes were modest, the gentle style and soft colors did nothing to detract from her appearance. Amrita recognized her at once, though she’d never seen so much as a picture.

“You must be Ela,” Amrita said. She fervently hoped Ela hadn’t come in on a jealous tear, but the elf’s face was so beautifully serene… Well, Amrita couldn’t imagine anyone else at Dr. Fox’s side.

“I am; you must be Amrita,” Ela said, holding out her hand to shake. “Fox thought you might have assumed he was just being polite, but no, really, we’d love to have you come hang out this weekend. It’s just a few close friends - the quiet ones. And we have plenty of drinks - non-alcoholic ones, that is. He doesn’t really drink since he’s on call so much.”

Denying Dr. Fox was easy, Amrita had practice at refusing his dimples and bright smile, but his pretty girlfriend was a completely different story. Meek and blushing in the face of such radiance, Amrita mumbled her acceptance and dutifully wrote down the address, even though she had it memorized from weeks and weeks of filling out Dr. Fox’s details on the order forms.

No one in Amrita’s family asked why she wouldn’t attend dinner on Saturday, they just silently accepted it, returning to their own conversations before she’d even left the room. It wasn’t a new interaction by any means, but it did leave a cold ache in her chest.

Neither Ela nor Fox had told her what to wear, so Amrita agonized in front of her closet for an hour before pulling on a dress she normally only wore to the Chantry. It matched the lovely necklace Ema’an left her, though she took care not to put that on until she was parked outside of Dr. Fox’s flat.

She took several deep breaths before finally unbuckling her seatbelt and tentatively walking up to Dr. Fox’s flat. The large number three on his door had a large, vinyl sticker of a cartoon cat, so she knew she was in the right place, but she couldn’t bring herself to ring the bell. Just as she was considering going back to her car, the door opened to reveal a qunari with horns so large there was no way he’d make it through the door straight on.

“Oh! Sorry if I startled you,” he said. He turned his head to call back into the flat, but knocked one of his horns on the door frame. “Ouch! Hey, Boss! Your friend Amrita’s here! Nice to meet you, Amrita, I’m The Iron Bull, but I’ve gotta grab something out of my truck, so I’ll be right back.”

Amrita backed up to let him pass and then stared through the open door, wishing the ground would swallow her up and teleport her back to her room. But the ground refused to cooperate and Amrita finally braced herself and stepped inside. The flat was full of modern-style furniture and artwork, though there were macaroni and crayon pieces hung up in places, undoubtedly works gifted to them by Ela’s students. Seeing them warmed Amrita’s heart and ensured that the smile on her face was genuine when Dr. Fox came to greet her.

As promised, it was a small gathering with quiet conversation over fruit and cheese platters. Dr. Fox and Ela’s friends seemed genuinely interested in Amrita, though they moved the conversation to other topics when Amrita started squirming under the attention. The Iron Bull was a youth counselor at Ela’s school, while Leliana and Josephine were both lawyers. The last guest was Cassandra, a Seeker focused on preserving the history of the Chantry.

Amrita thought she should feel woefully undereducated in their company, but somehow they had enough combined social grace to make her feel included without being stifled. It was foreign and nice and comfortable and overwhelming and Amrita thought she might be sick when Ela asked for her help in the kitchen. With mounting terror, Amrita nodded and followed Ela. She knew how to boil water for a nice tisane, but little else. It was unseemly for someone of her station to be seen helping in the kitchen.

However, once Ela closed the shuttered door into the living room, the dalish woman sighed in relief and leaned against one of the counters. She met Amrita’s eyes and gave her a wane smile. “Thanks for coming with me. It’s all a little much sometimes. Even Bull has a masters. I feel so out of my depth sometimes.”

“Oh. You just… Wanted a break?” Amrita asked, hardly able to believe it.

“Absolutely. Usually my friend Sera’s here to breakup all of the intellectual talk, but she had a meeting with the Jennys and couldn’t make it.”

Amrita didn’t know what the Jennys were, so she just nodded.

“Oh, here, let me get you some more juice,” Ela said as she turned to Dr. Fox’s fridge.

Actually, Amrita wasn’t quite certain it was Dr. Fox’s flat. Despite the cat sticker on the door, Ela’s personal effects were clearly spread all throughout the flat, but at the same time, so were Dr. Fox’s. It must have been difficult for them to keep track of what was at which home unless- Oh. Right. Of course. He had a few orders sent to his home. I’d thought he just wanted to deliver them himself. And it has to be his flat. This has been his address since before he met her.

Unsure what to think of her newest revelation, Amrita just took the glass of juice silently. She didn’t need to say anything, since Ela was still rambling about how intense and overwhelming Leliana and Cassandra got when talking about the meanings behind different passages in the Chant. Amrita was actually a little sad they hadn’t gotten into one of those discussion with her present because she would have been able to keep up with the conversation for once. Well, hopefully they’ll talk about it next time.

Amrita felt alternating flashes of hot and cold. Next time? Would she even be invited? Surely not. Now that they knew there was nothing special or interesting about her, Dr. Fox would stop casually inviting her and- But Ela was thanking her again and giving her a sincere smile that made wrinkles form next to her eyes. Amrita’s heart was fit to burst. She couldn’t process anything else for the last half hour she spent at the warm flat, but she remembered smiling so much her cheeks hurt.

She left promptly at 9:30PM after warm hugs from both Dr. Fox and Ela and friendly handshakes from the others. No one pressured her to stay later and everyone expressed their hope that she’d join them again some time. The moment she buckled her seatbelt, Amrita bent over the steering wheel in sudden, inexplicable tears. She was happy. She’d had a wonderful time. Everyone had been so kind and welcoming, she shouldn’t have been crying.

Amrita allowed herself a minute to be hysterical before she wiped her eyes with her monogrammed handkerchief and started her car. Her family’s Kirkwall house was only ten minutes away and she still had twenty-five left before her self-imposed curfew of 10PM. Even though most of her attention was on the road, Amrita allowed a small part of her brain to think about how nice the gathering made her feel. She was still glowing with quiet joy when the steward let her into the house.

Grace stood on the first landing of the grand staircase, her arms crossed over her chest. “I see you’ve finally deigned us with your presence, sister.”

The last word was spoken like a curse and slapped Amrita across the face, freezing her heart mid-beat. The shock was so complete Amrita could only stare dumbly at her sister. She glanced at their mother, but she averted her eyes and raised her chin.

“Nothing to say for yourself? I suppose you don’t need to, it’s clear enough where you were, wearing that slut’s necklace.”

Amrita gasped and clutched the delicate pendant Ema’an left her. Her mouth quivered and her eyes were hot, but this time she knew exactly why she was going to cry.

“So are you done whoring yourself to this new knife-ear, or can we expect an extended shame on our family?”

“Mother!” Amrita protested, even as tears fell from her eyes.

But she may as well have not spoken because her mother simply turned her back before walking with precise, elegant steps up the stairs.

“Don’t you dare speak to her. Not when you’re still covered in his filth. And in one of your Chantry dresses. How dare you?”

Amrita choked out a single, loud sob before fleeing back the way she’d come. She didn’t remember getting in her car, let alone starting it. She didn’t come back to herself until she drove up on a curb a few blocks from the townhouse. There was no crunch of impact, but the shock from hitting the curb shocked her enough that she shut down her car and sobbed into her hands. When she was a horrible, soggy mess, Amrita fumbled with her handbag until she had her smartphone. 

With shaking fingers, she punched in Fox’s number and waited for it to connect. He sounded so terribly worried she nearly hung up, but she managed to answer his questions. No, she wasn’t injured. No, she wasn’t in immediate physical danger. Yes, she did know where she was, yes, she would love it if he came to pick her up.

Before she knew it, Fox was opening her car door and pulling her into a warm hug. He rubbed her back while hashing out a plan for Amrita’s car. She couldn’t have cared less about her car. She just cried into her friend’s chest and held onto him, trusting he would take care of her. After a few minutes, Amrita’s sobbing abated and she was left with just silent tears. She sniffed and rubbed her face with her handkerchief, but it was still wet from earlier and the material felt coarse on her damp face despite being silk. She pulled her face back and looked around, but Ela and Amrita’s car were gone.

“Don’t worry, she just took it back to the flat. We couldn’t exactly leave your car up on the curb overnight,” Fox said. “When you’re ready, we’ll go home. Ela’s setting up the spare room for you right now.”

We’ll go home, such a tiny, simple phrase, but it sent Amrita into another round of hiccuping sobs. She hugged him tightly. She wanted to protest and say he didn’t need to do this, she wasn’t worth it, it was fine, she should just go to her parents’ house, but she couldn’t get any words out, so she just clung to him. 

Once her crying abated again, Fox gently guided her into the passenger seat, even going so far as to buckle her in and kiss her forehead before walking around the car and getting into the driver’s seat. The ride itself was a blur of haloed street lights and Fox saying things that were probably comforting and reassuring, though only his soft tone penetrated the haze in Amrita’s mind. Back in Fox’s flat, Ela handed Amrita some warm pajamas and a warm hand towel to clean her face.

“Get some sleep, little sister. We’ll wake you up for Chantry services in the morning,” Fox said.

Without really thinking about it, Amrita went through her usual nighttime routine before curling up in the too-big pajamas and falling asleep with her hand closed around Ema’an’s pendant.

When morning came, Ela helped Amrita back into her dress and pulled a lovely, grey sweater over Amrita’s head. Even though it was such a small addition, it changed Amrita’s appearance enough that she didn’t look like she was wearing last night’s clothes. Words were still too much for her, so Amrita just hugged the other woman and let herself be bundled into Fox’s car. They didn’t go to her usual parish, but Amrita didn’t think she could handle seeing her family, and the service was lovely regardless. She managed to sing a few verses of the Chant, but otherwise just sat in the comfortable space between Fox and Ela.

When it came time to spread the Eternal Flame, Amrita rose mechanically and joined the line of regular parishioners. The statue of Andraste was humble and welcoming and singing the few short verses before it warmed away some of Amrita’s numbness. She let herself be pulled along with the flow of people leaving the Chantry. It wasn’t until she was outside that Amrita realized she was alone. Just as the panic was setting in, Fox touched her shoulder before giving her a hug.

Amrita pulled away and blinked at her friends, as if seeing them for the first time. Ela couldn’t have been more Dalish if she tried, with her clear vallaslin and green clothes with only a facsimile of sandals. And then there was Fox, Tevinter in accent and mindset, if not appearance. He was a very polite atheist, but an atheist nonetheless. Neither of them would ever come to a Chantry service on their own. They went for her and no other reason. She clutched Fox’s arm and tried to hold back her tears.

“This is too much,” Amrita said, her voice quavering.

“It’s the very least you deserve. And we’ll see to it that you get everything you deserve.”

chrysanthemum  -  You're A Wonderful Friend; Cheerfulness and Rest crocus - Cheerfulness zinnia (red) - Constancy zinnia (white) - Goodness carnation (red) - My Heart Aches for You; Admiration carnation (white) - Sweet and Lovely; Innocence; Pure Love lily of the valley - Sweetness; Humility; You've Made My Life Complete forsythia - Anticipation tulip (red) - Believe Me; Declaration of Love tulip (variegated) - Beautiful Eyes roseleaf - You May Hope hyacinth (purple) -  I Am Sorry; Please Forgive Me: Sorrow iris - Your Friendship Means So Much to Me; Faith; Hope; Wisdom and Valour statice (blue) -  Intimacy, Deep Trust, Peacefulness ivy -  Wedded Love; Fidelity; Friendship; Affection Link 1 Link 2 Link 3

[richonnejustdesserts]

Teacher’s Pet : A Richonne Round Robin Fanfic

A small town sheriff and preschool teacher find love thanks to the cutest little matchmaker around. [RATED: T]

Chapter 7  (written by @iminyjo)

“…The thing was busted the whole time! I’m standing there looking at him like, ‘Man, are you kidding me?’”

Shane kept going and luckily for Rick, he realized that he hadn’t been listening at all a moment before Shane could. He glanced at his watch meaningfully and stood up from his desk abruptly to avoid being caught.

“Well, I think I’m gonna go stretch my legs.” Rick said, thumbing toward the front doors of the station.

Shane looked caught off guard because he’d been in the middle of a sentence when his best friend bounded to his feet unexpectedly.

“Everything okay, Chief?” Shane ventured.

Rick looked back at him. There was no way for Rick to explain that he was anxious, excited and frustrated simultaneously without facing a serious ragging from his friend.

“Yup.” He answered simply, stretching to sell his boredom better.

The truth was he was restless. He’d seen Michonne Saturday night and then again on Sunday for a picnic at the local Reservoir. Dinner on a Sunday night, basically a school night, proved impractical but rather than cancel they agreed to meet in the early afternoon. The outing had started out charming and chaste enough but had devolved or escalated, depending on your point of view, into a heavy petting session. Without a doubt, as far as he was concerned, it had been wonderful. And if Michonne enjoyed herself even half as much as Rick had with her then he knew already they were both in serious trouble. He was a goner. He could tell already.

But now he wasn’t gonna see her until Tuesday.

Still, Monday nights with the guys was sacrosanct. He’d told Michonne that when they made plans to see each other next.  He explained himself and she’d listened carefully. It wasn’t because he didn’t already feel like he could see her and spend time with her and talk to her and touch her everyday. It was just that he didn’t want to be one of those guys that threw his friends over every time his love life had a pulse. And Mondays were his established “Guys’ Night” with Shane and Glenn. Michonne, the amazing person she was, completely understood that, but now Rick was the one feeling deprived.

He sighed.

“Today’s too nice a day to be stuck inside,” Rick announced. “I think I’ll go pick up the kids today. Take ‘em to the park before I take them home. Save Lori the trip.”

Shane just watched him, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll bet.”

“What?” Rick said feigning innocence. Shane had known him too long, it was occasionally annoying.

Shane reclined in his chair with his feet up on the desk and put his hands behind his head. “You never did tell me how the date with the school teacher went.”

Rick cursed himself for not having walked out as soon as he got to his feet. Shane wasn’t even supposed to know about their date but between him, Maggie and Glenn there had been too many witnesses and loose lips to keep anything quiet. Rick was convinced they were trading notes or exchanging texts or something about him. It was like they had a hotline. Everything one knew, the other two did as well in short order.

“It was nice,” Rick answered truthfully but succinctly. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a hand resting on his gunbelt.

“I’ll bet.” Shane agreed with a smile that suggested he knew more than he technically should. He swiveled in his chair as if he was waiting for something.

“What?” Rick said again.

Shane suddenly looked like the cat that ate the canary, waving him off all smugly agreeable.

“I’m heading out,” Rick said turning to walk out.

“So you said.”

He took a step and turned back to Shane again, spinning on the heel of his boot. “What?”

Shane shrugged in answer; the smile hadn’t budged an inch. “Nuthin’”

Rick sighed again loudly. His shoulders drooped in defeat. So much for even a speck of privacy in this town. “You heard about the museum?”

“HA!” Shane smiled widely then, dropping his feet back to the floor and clapping his hands, rubbing them together greedily, ready to get to the nitty-gritty. “Boy, I had no idea you were such an art-connoisseur!”

Shane laid his country accent on especially thick for maximum effect. “But see son, in the future, I reckon I must advise you to appreciate the arts within the boundaries of the Law.”

Rick scowled. That damn security guard.

“This town is too damn small,” Rick complained aloud more to himself than his friend. He wondered how many rounds this story had already made in just under forty-eight hours.

“…I hear there may even be pictures.” Shane was continuing.

Rick skewered him with a look that if not stopping him entirely, at least turned Shane’s next words from outside statements to inside thoughts. He pursed his lips, making like he was zipping them up and tossing away the key.

Rick groaned. Paying Michonne a visit at school had gone from a wistful impulse to a necessity in a matter of seconds. If this thing had effectively ruined his chances with her, Rick knew in that moment he was going to be personally cracking heads and wringing necks of gossip-mongers all over town until he got all the way back to that security guard.

He looked at his watch in earnest now. “I gotta get over to the school before the bell rings. Cover for me?”

Shane smiled, still irritatingly amused. “Sure thing, Brother.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” Rick made for the door, far more apprehensive than he’d been an hour ago.

***

Michonne strolled down the hall with a large, juicy apple in her hands. This was one of her rare free periods. Her kids and the kids from the Pre-K -B class were having a visit from the local zookeeper. He’d brought in a marmoset, a parrot and a frog. And between them, the two aides and Tanya Wilson, the teacher from class B, the two Pre-K groups’ attentions were completely rapted. Next week when the flautist came, it would be her turn to class-sit while Tanya took the break. In the meantime, Michonne decided the best place to enjoy her minuscule thirty minutes in relative solitude would be in the teacher’s lounge. At that time of day, it was likely to be nearly empty– or at least she hoped, since she didn’t actually know.

Michonne turned the fruit over lovingly in her hands before taking a bite. Her kids kept her stocked in them: Fujis, Galas, Macintoshes, Pink Ladies, Granny Smiths, both Yellow and Red Delicious. She was lucky she genuinely liked them. Having, apparently, conflated the idea of ‘an apple a day keeping the doctor away’ with ‘having an apple for the teacher’. It delighted her that her kids wanted her to live forever…or be invincible, as Jeffie Hill explained it to her. They loved her as much as she loved them and her daily apples were the tangible, or rather edible, proof. She smiled as she thought of it, turning the corner up the hall to the lounge.

“…And third off, I don’t really see how it’s even any of your business.” Michonne heard Sasha saying as she approached the doorway.  She slowed down, this sounded ugly.

“Well, I just don’t think it’s appropriate. She just arrived. I heard–” It was the fifth grade English teacher, Ms. Martin speaking. Michonne had exchanged enough pleasantries with the woman to recognize her voice. She hesitated. Something inside suddenly telling her to fall back.

“Personally, I don’t understand why you’d be even getting your gossip from the lunch lady’s son anyway. I heard Eugene Porter taught seventh grade Bio, at this very school, for two years before anyone realized he didn’t even graduate from high school.” That was Paul interjecting.

“Mr. Rovia!” Sasha said scandalized…or at least faking it well.

“What? I’m merely illustrating how bankrupt idle chatter is. Really ladies, what Ms. Anthony–” Michonne stepped back out of the doorway at the mention of her name, her apple stuck in her mouth as if she were on a spit. Fittingly she discovered, since she was apparently being roasted– “chooses to do in her spare time and with whom she does it is no one’s business.”

Michonne didn’t know whether to stay or go. She wasn’t an eavesdropper but considering the conversation was apparently about her, she felt torn. How was it possible that her fledgling dating life in this town had already become fodder for lunchroom gossip? Her mother had warned her, but truly this was ridiculous. She hung back at the threshold of lounge

“The point is,” Sasha overemphasized her syllables. “unless at some point, Ms. Anthony or whomever asks you for your opinion personally, I think you’d be smart to keep their names out of your mouth.”

Michonne knew that like herself, Sasha was a transplant but with her mild, nerdy, affably witty personality, she’d never thought to wonder where exactlySasha hailed from…until that moment. But with the flint in that final pronouncement and a voice that brooked absolutely no rebuttal, Michonne wondered now if Sasha’s original home wasn’t a bit more rough and tumble than vanilla King County.

So with that as her cue, Michonne pushed through her nerves and walked into the lounge as if oblivious to what was happening around her.

“Good afternoon, Everybody.” Michonne announced casually after finally pulling the apple from between her lips.

Ms. Martin blanched as if caught, turning both pale and red in great big splotches that crossed her face and down in a scarlet trail across her neck and chest. “Um, M-Ms. Anthony. Hi!”

Her companion, one of the middle school’s PE teachers that Michonne had yet to formally meet, avoided eye contact. She gathered her things swiftly muttering about her break being over and scuttled out of the room.

Paul and Sasha turned simultaneously and shared a look. Even they looked startled by her sudden appearance behind them.

“Ms. Anthony, a-are you, ah, are you having a good day so far?” Sasha asked being the first to regain her composure.

Michonne almost laughed. Clearly, there wasn’t a bank robber or con-artist among them, they all looked so unnerved and caught in the act that she very nearly felt sorry for them. She stood there silently for a moment longer to allow them all to stew in their guilt. In that time, Ms. Martin too, grabbed her papers and with her lunch bag moved past Sasha and Paul toward the door.

Michonne considered crowding the threshold as the woman approached and she slowed as if she suspected, looking very much like a cornered rabbit.  But at the last moment, Michonne stepped out of the doorway graciously, “Have a good afternoon, Roxanne.”

“Michonne,” Was all she said before flying by her and down the hall.

Michonne turned her attention on her friends then, cocking her head slightly in query.

“Look, we didn’t want you to find out like this–” Paul was the first to speak this time.

“We didn’t want you to find out at all.” Sasha amended holding her hands up to stay Michonne even though she hadn’t moved or spoken at all.

“What?” She really hadn’t heard much of anything although clearly they didn’t know that.

Sasha and Paul exchanged another look. They were gonna get on her bad side quickly if they continued doing that. “What don’t you guys want me to know?”

She walked into the lounge and sat on the large  comfy couch that lined the wall by the window and staff mailboxes. Sasha joined her, while Paul pulled up a close-by chair.

“I’m an adult, I can handle it.”

Her friends exchanged another meaningful look that made her stomach drop.

“There’s a rumor going around that old Mrs. Porter’s son Eugene caught you and Rick Grimes rolling around in the children’s exhibit at the McPherson Museum,” Sasha rushed through it all as if she were ripping off a band-aid.

“And we wouldn’t have even dignified it with a comment except that…well, we know you went on a date with him on Saturday.” Paul added.

Michonne’s face burned. They’d joked that their little romp would become grist for the gossip mill but Michonne had assumed that it was just that…a joke.

“Now some of the teachers are concerned that dating Rick isn’t appropriate.” Sasha continued rolling her eyes. “But I honestly think we may have nipped that in the bud.”

It was Monday, in the early afternoon. How could that story have possibly gotten those kind of legs already?

“First of all, it’s not true…”

Entirely…maybe if they hadn’t gotten caught– Michonne self-censored as Paul and Sasha looked from each other back to her.

“Of course not, honey–”

“We didn’t believe it for a minute–”

“….And second of all, I thought you guys said it wouldn’t necessarily be a big deal if we saw each other?”

“It’s not, exactly,” Paul reached out and pat Michonne consolingly on the knee as he leaned forward into their little huddle. “I mean you’re not breaking any rules. It’s like anything else in this town that’s out of the ordinary– just something to talk about.”

Michonne loathed being the subject of idle gossip. The idea that after only a few months in town she’d already gotten tongues wagging distressed her.

“This will peter out in time, trust me,” Sasha attempted to reassure her. “As soon as someone gets a DUI or Mrs. Anderson brings in another store-bought cake for the Spring Cake-walk –she does it every year and every year they act like it’s a high crime–”

“She’s a hairdresser, I don’t understand why people expect her to be Betty Crocker.” Paul inserted looking at Sasha. “I suspect she couldn’t properly operate an Easy Bake oven, so I’m actually glad she lets the supermarket handle it.”

“Paul.”

“What? She can’t cut hair either.” He ran a hand through his hair once and shuddered.

“What I’m saying is, trust us, once there’s something else for people to talk about, people will.” Sasha concluded with a smile and another pat on her other knee.

Michonne frowned but nodded at them nevertheless. She certainly hoped so.

***

Michonne was sleepwalking through the rest of the day. She knew it. Even the kids knew it.

Just before the dismissal bell, Judith Grimes came up to her and tugged on the sleeve of her shirt as she stood at the sink washing out a couple dozen small paint brushes.

“Miss A, are you okay?”

Michonne turned to her and squatted so they were eye to eye. “Judith, you’re supposed to be over on the story rug listening to Miss Ashley.” With the exception of Judith, her teacher’s aide had the children’s undivided attention– no small feat ten minutes before the end of the day.

“She’s not as good as you and Daddy.” Judith reported softly, leaning in so it was just between Michonne and herself.

Michonne smiled in spite of herself. The thought of various teachers speculating on her nascent relationship with Rick had her beside herself and completely off her game. She fretted that even Judith, who while observant was still only a four-year-old, noticed. It made her feel worse. This thing had just begun, was it already time to end it?

“Has someone given you the Cold-Pricklies?” Judith asked seriously, her cherubic cheeks and big blue eyes taking on the approximation of a dour expression.

Michonne nearly laughed. They’d just been teaching the kids a lesson on how words could hurt or help, labeling them either the Cold-Pricklies or the Warm-Fuzzies. It was no surprise to Michonne that Judith was both an astute and swift learner.

“No, but thank you for asking.” Michonne said giving Judith’s shoulder a squeeze. She looked more like her mother than her father, Michonne had realized but those blue eyes were Rick’s without a doubt. The thought of breaking things off with him so soon saddened her. Surprisingly so.

She sighed softly to herself as she stood. “Storytime isn’t over yet. Go see if you can catch the end.”

Judith nodded, her blonde ringlets bobbing on her head. “Okay.”

Michonne turned and went back to her brushes before she felt another soft tug. “Yes, Judith?”

Now she actually did laugh. She guessed bedtime was always entertaining in the Grimes Household.

Judith looked up at her, scrunching her little nose and beckoning her down to eye-level with her index finger. Michonne bent at the waist and Judith whispered in her ear. “I wish you could come home with us. Daddy always knows what to say to make me and Carl feel better.”

Michonne smiled, genuinely and pulled the preschooler into her arms giving her a big hug. “Thank you. But you know, I think you’re probably as good as your dad.”

Judith beamed. She turned and ran for the rug just as the bell rang. She froze in her spot for a moment looking back at Michonne as all the children on the rug jumped up and scattered. Michonne laughed again and Judith smiled like the class clown.

“Have a good afternoon, Everyone!” Michonne announced then.

“BYE, MISS A!” They all screamed simultaneously as they did every afternoon.

Michonne waved goodbye to Judith as she scrambled to her cubby for her things. She couldn’t help keeping her eyes on the little girl even as other children tackled her thighs to give their own farewells.

Was it strange or somehow unfair to everyone else that Judith had already secured a little real estate in her heart?

About twenty minutes later as Michonne and Ashley moved through the room putting the last of the things away for the day, there was a knock on the door. They both looked up to see Rick standing hesitantly in the doorway in his full sheriff’s uniform. A squadron of butterflies suddenly did a loop de loop in Michonne’s stomach. She would have been lying if she said it wasn’t a very sexy sight.

“Ms. Anthony?”

“Deputy Grimes!”  

They both spoke at the same time, then smiled timidly at each other.

Ashley, who stood incidentally at a spot on the rug midway between them both cradling a stack of books in her hands, looked around awkwardly.

“I, um, need to go help Ms. Wilson in her room…now.” She said to Michonne quickly then hurriedly put the books down haphazardly in the Reading Corner and rushed out.

Rick barely cleared the doorway fast enough to avoid a collision. Michonne rolled her eyes. It was worse than she expected. The whole school knew –in two days! She sighed and Rick frowned in concern.

“Everything okay?”

Michonne shook her head fatigued. She put her arms across her chest and settled back against her desk at the front of the classroom.

How to tell him that the school rumor mill was already hard at work labelling them lovebirds?

Rick came in more fully, walking up until he was within striking distance, close enough to touch Michonne if that was what she wanted. Though from the look on her face it was tough for him to tell. She certainly looked like she could use a hug but with her arms crossed, she seemed guarded at the same time.

“I wanted to wait until everyone cleared out. Carl and Judy are waiting in the car.” As Rick spoke Michonne nodded, “And I know we said we’d see each other tomorrow. So I hope you don’t think I’m being eager.”

Michonne smiled. It was small but still a smile. “Eager’s okay.”

She didn’t know if she wanted to encourage or discourage him at that moment. Looking at Rick now she was truly torn.

“…But I wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

“That’s good. We need to talk.”

Just that quickly Rick was set back on his heels. A woman saying they needed to talk, whether or not you said it first, was not a good sign.

“Is everything okay?” He asked again plaintively.

Michonne put her hand to her mouth covering a giggle. Rick looked and sounded exactly like his daughter in that moment right down to the solemn expression and half-cocked head.

Did she really want to stop seeing this man based on idle chatter?

They were both consenting adults, that had broken no rules.

“It appears the halls are alive with the sound of gossip.” She said smiling.

Rick dragged his hand down his face and sighed deeply like an old man after a flight of stairs. “So you know?”

Michonne nodded. “Yep, I guess apparently Eugene Porter and his mother got on the ole bullhorn Saturday night and alerted the entire school?”

“Possibly town.” Rick broke it to her. Michonne groaned.

Her mother’s words came back to her yet again. She could not claim she hadn’t been warned.

“So what do you wanna do, if anything?” Rick asked, dreading the possible answer. He closed the distance between them and Michonne came back to her feet. He placed his hands on her arms and looked directly into her beautiful brown eyes trying to discern her answer before she spoke.

Looking into his eyes Michonne thought of the great time they’d had together on Saturday…and Sunday.

Rick wasn’t sure how to take her silence. “You want to call it off?”

He couldn’t hide his disappointment, Michonne was the first person since his divorce from Lori that had put the color back into his world. It was only after he’d met her that he realized he’d been blithely going through the motions in monochrome for so long he could barely remember the difference. Until now.

Michonne remained silent a moment longer. What did she want? She wanted to see where this thing between them could go. She realized she wanted to get to know Rick better. If she let herself be frightened off by a little bit of wayward gossip now she knew she might miss an opportunity for something great. So then she knew what she wanted.

She wanted to give them a chance.

She smiled, shaking her head and Rick felt the knot forming in his stomach ease.

“Nope,” She said easily and then they both were smiling.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |

[sunshinearmin]

Falling Into Those Ocean Eyes

Leading off for AruAni week, here is my first contribution, Day One: Eyes

AO3

Word Count: 2131

Cover photo by me

Annie could tell anyone the first thing she fell in love with.  His eyes.  Deep pools of blue.  He had been rather unnoticeable before.  A background piece.  An accessory in the life of Eren Jaeger.  His name wasn’t even worth learning, he was so insignificant to her.  Then one day, he looked at her with those eyes, and she was gone.

           Armin Arlert.  She had to learn everything about him after that.  So, she began to watch him.  He was small, and weak.  During PT, he lagged behind most of the squadron.  He was average with the 3DM gear.  He was always last to finish their laps.  His friends didn’t even seem to notice that they were leaving him in the dust.  Why did he even want to be a soldier?  He was certain to be titan food.  And yet he kept going.  Kept surviving.  She had to admire his persistence, his commitment.

           He had something the rest of these idiots didn’t. He knew what he was getting into. He had seen titans before.  He knew what they were capable of.  In comparison to Eren and Mikasa, everyone seemed to forget that he was in Shiganshina that day too.  Had watched his home and people he knew wiped out. And yet he kept plowing on through training.  He was braver than most of these people gave him credit for.  He had something he believed in, something he was willing to fight for.  Something he was willing to die for.  As a warrior, she could respect that.  She had something too.  But he didn’t seem to have any discernable skills. Ideals would only get you so far.

           Then, she started sitting behind him in the classroom.  The little guy was a genius, and she wasn’t exaggerating.  He had a strategic mind, and an ability to think outside the box. He was receiving top marks.  He was miles beyond Jaeger and Ackerman in this area.  He was probably the smartest kid in the squadron.  The one they SHOULD look to when out on the battfield.  They wouldn’t, of course, with so many other louder personalities.  Eren Jaeger, Jean Kirschstein, hell, even Reiner.

           But Armin was a quiet boy, and often overlooked. He seemed shy, and lacked confidence in himself.  That might get him killed.  The first few months of training, he hardly spoke to anyone.  And he was always with Jaeger and Ackerman.  Annie appreciated his more reserved personality.  Most of them were loud, and boisterous, and grated on her nerves.  But she often overheard Eren talking about things Armin said.  Apparently, he was quite talkative, but only around certain people.  Sort of like Bertolt then.

           But after a long while, she knew she had to stop. He was the enemy.  All of these people were.  They stood between her and her ability to go home.  But the people of Paradis Island were different than she had been lead to believe.  They didn’t know anything about the world outside of their walls.  They didn’t know how they or the titans got there.  They didn’t even know what was in the walls. These people even had a religion dedicated to the walls, and keeping them intact.  Most of the people wanted to remain within their walls.  There were arguments to seal up the walls entirely. They weren’t the devils Marley had told her they were.  She wasn’t sure they deserved to die.  Certainly not by titans.  Then again, she had never been devoted to the cause like Reiner was.  This was merely her way to get home.  To get back to a semi normal life.  All she had to do was find the original titan, and maybe the attack titan, and bring it back to Marley.  It wouldn’t hurt to find the jaw titan either.

           But avoiding attachments was proving to be harder than she thought.  In Marley, she’d been so focused on being selected as a warrior, she hadn’t paid any attention to the other candidates, even after being selected.  It just became a habit, especially since most of them had personalities that she didn’t gel with.  Porco, Reiner, Zeke. Bertolt was okay, mostly, as was Pieck.  Marcel had been alright, but he was dead now.  She kept telling herself that these people would be too, and she shouldn’t let them in.  But it was hard.

           There was Mina Carolina.  A sweet girl with dark hair she always wore in pigtails. Mina was Annie’s bunkmate.  Annie didn’t mean to get close to her, but it seemed inevitable.  There was Eren Jaeger, who was actually interested in learning how to fight from her. Marco Bott was a sweet boy with freckles who was encouraging to everyone.  Christa, Ymir, Sasha, all fairly bearable girls.

           And then there was HIM.  She had tried her best to avoid him, but one day, they were paired together on the stable duty.  She ignored him at first, and thankfully he seemed to get the hint.  He was on the other side of the stable, cleaning out those stalls.  All of the horses had been turned out in the paddock, so it was quiet, except for the scraping of their shoulders.

           Annie wondered what the hell she was doing.  He was insignificant.  He meant nothing to her.  So, why was she acting like he did?  She was acting stupid.  People were bound to notice her avoidance of him and be more suspicious of that than if she’d just talk to him.  Treat him like she treated everyone else.  Suddenly, there was a cough behind her, and she spun around.

           He was standing right behind her.  “Sorry.” He said, looking down at the ground.  His long blonde hair hung over his face.  She could see why everyone said he looked like Christa.  “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

           “How long have you been standing there?”

           “About ten seconds.”

           “What do you want?” She realized she sounded pissy.

           He didn’t seem perturbed by her tone.  “Nothing.  I didn’t come over here to talk to you.”  Well, little Armin had a bit of a backbone after all.  She guessed that came from being friends with Eren and Mikasa.  She had to admit, it was interesting to see what his personality was like without his constant companions around.

           “Then what are you doing over here?”

           “I finished my stalls.”

           “Already?” Annie gaze shot over to the stalls he had and sure enough, his were all emptied out.

           “Yeah.  I was going to get hay for mine, but I can help you finish your’s, if you’d like.”

           She was going to tell him no, but then she thought about it.  He was much faster than her, so they’d get done twice as fast.  “Sure.” She finally said.

           “Okay.” He turned and walked into the stall across from the one she was in.

           Annie realized he hadn’t looked up the entire time they were talking.   She liked his voice.  It was light and melodic, so unlike most of the other guys’ voices.  “Thank you.”

           “It’s no problem.” Annie was sure it wasn’t. He came across as the kind of person who liked to help people, however he could.

           Annie finished the stall she was working in, and paused to watch him for a moment.  He really worked at a breakneck speed.  She hadn’t expected it out of the kid who lagged behind everyone else.  She turned away quickly as he finished and hurried into her next stall.  After a few more minutes, she asked, “So, how long have you known Eren?”

           He looked up at her then, and she fell into those eyes all over again.  How could one pair of eyes hold so much emotion?  Annie’s own hardly ever showed emotion.  She’d been told she looked rather dead eyed.  His currently showed surprise and confusion.  Annie was not the kind of person who came across as liking small talk, or was interested in other people’s lives.  “Since I was little.”  He finally answered.  “Actually, I knew his parents before he even did.”  He smiled at her, and she felt the last of her resistance towards him melt away.

           “How does that work?” She asked.

           “His dad delivered me.” Armin replied.  “And then, four months later, he was born.”

           “Wait, you’re older than Eren?”

           “Mikasa too.  People think because I’m smaller, I must be younger, but actually, Eren is the youngest.

           Annie stared at him.  “Wow.  So you guys were friends since birth?”

           “No.  Eren’s dad was my doctor, but we didn’t really become friends until we were about six. And we met Mikasa when we were nine.” She could see how Eren was constantly repeating stuff Armin said.  He was quite the chatterbox.  You just had to get him going.  She wanted to hear more of his voice.

           “So, how did you guys become friends then?”

           He paused for a moment, looking at her skeptically.  “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”

           She had to think fast to get out of this one. It wasn’t like she had a rational answer, after all.  She couldn’t just tell him that she wanted to hear his voice.  That was weird.  “Because…because I never had a friendship like you guys, and I’m curious, is all. I’ve always been a loner.”  It wasn’t even technically a lie.  

           He seemed to accept her answer as his posture relaxed and his face regained an easy going expression.  “Oh, well that’s sort of a long story.”

           Annie looked over the other stalls they still had to do.  “I think we have time.”

           “Well, okay…”  Annie wasn’t actually listening to his words anymore.  She was more listening to the cadence of his words, like a melody.  As they finished the stalls, she kept glancing over at him.  He was animated, and there was just something about him. A presence or an aura or something. She could feel his joy radiating off him as he spoke about his best friend.  It was such a pure thing.  Too pure. Annie almost felt too dirty to be around something so pure.

           She propped her elbow on the door of the last stall and just watched him.  He was very pretty, now that she looked at him closely.  Prettier than her.  Prettier than most of the girls here.  He had a nice round face, a little button nose, sunny yellow hair.  But his most enticing feature was his eyes.  A bright, crystalline blue that shone with emotion. It was like he held the world in those eyes.  He caught her gaze and stopped talking.  “What?”

           “What? Nothing.” She answered, straightening up.

           “Um…okay.  We should get some fresh hay for the stalls.”  He said, walking down the center aisle towards where they hay was kept.

           “Yeah, right.” She quickly hurried after him.

           As she lay in her bed that night, listening to the sounds of the other girls sleeping, all she could think about were those damn eyes.  It wasn’t fair.  Of all the things that should be on her mind, why was it him?  What was it about those eyes that had drawn her in?

           Oceans.  That’s what they were like.  His eyes reminded her of the ocean she had crossed to get here.  Fathomlessly deep and mysterious.  Teeming with life, and danger, and beauty.  She realized she had fallen into those ocean eyes, and she was drowning in them.  But she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be saved.  Instead, in that moment as she lay in the dark, she decided she wanted those eyes in her life, no matter what the cost was.

           That decision, mostly forgotten, was probably the reason why, years later, she didn’t crush him.  In her chase to get Eren, she’d taken out much of the Survey Corps.  Her hands were irreparably stained with blood, and she didn’t even care.  But then, she lifted that hood and looked into those eyes, and she let him go.  She couldn’t see those eyes lifeless, and certainly would not be the one to take the life from those eyes.

           But the stubborn little bastard didn’t learn, and came back.  She felt her temper flare.  How could someone so smart behave so stupidly?  She’d spared his life once, she wouldn’t do it again.  But as Annie crouched over his bloody body, he looked up at her, and she couldn’t do it.  That ocean stared into her soul, and she stopped her hand.

           And even later, after everything, she knew she should regret staying her hand, but she just couldn’t.  Locked in a prison of her own making, unable to keep her promise to her father, unable to go home, all she had were those eyes.  Full of promise and expectations.  The oceans had swallowed her whole, and they were all she had left.

[ethicalredhat]

Darby Warner

Career Information

Occupation: Freelance Hacker and (unlicensed) Private Detective

Affiliations: ട0ṬeRiậ (Formerly)

Biographical Information

Aliases: Heedless Murmur (Handle)

Date of Birth: September 21st

Age:28~34 (It really depends on the verse)

Status: Alive

Pronouns: She/Her or They/Them

Ethnicity: Mixed-race Native American and Caucasian

Nationality: 🇺🇸 American

Sexual Orientation: Asexual  ♠︎️  (Doesn’t fully recognize that’s what it is/kinda denies it)

Romantic Orientation: Biromantic ⚤ 

Family: Terri Warner (Father), Rose Walten (Mother), Phillis Walten (Half Sister)

Physical Description

Gender: Female

Height: 5′7 (171 cm)

Weight: ~165 lbs (~75 kg)

Appearance

Darby is a muscular, handsome woman with tousled curly hair that rests atop her broad shoulders (sometimes worn in a bun or ponytail). Her dark eyes by default hold a calculating if not deadpan look in them though sometimes during social interaction there’s a spark in them.

Her clothing style stays on the “masculine” side and Darby seems to prefer flamboyant prints. Mostly seen in more professional clothing (button ups, trousers, blazers, loafers, ect) though she’ll go for more casual looks depending on the situation. For accessories she has the same old men’s wrist watch she’s kept since high school. Any other accessories are for necessity such as caps and sunglasses for Incognito Mode.

Personality

Not much for talking except for when she is, a true ambivert at heart. She avoids people like the plague but when the option for social interaction appears Darby will almost always bite, although cautiously since she has a paranoid streak. One of Darby’s biggest problems is that she unknowingly lies to herself. Deep down she craves human connection but due to her lifestyle (mostly after the events of La Galerie as she’s on the run from the UK branch of Mobius) she tries to keep herself isolated for others protection. Going by her cold exterior, Darby could be chalked up as your usual The Stoic archetype if not for the playful side of herself she sometimes lets run amok.

Long ago she learned to use her taste for dry humor as a defense mechanism, a shield between herself and the world. So at times, though rarely, Darby may seem she doesn’t take dire situations seriously but it’s all just a way for her to avoid her own emotions. Post La Galerie her already dwindling self-assurance has dropped, leaving her mind partially scarred from the months she spent inside the machine. During her lower moods when she’s just about hit rock bottom Darby can become successful in her attempts to keep her feelings snuffed out. Some days she’ll walk about like an empty shell and this is when the darker under layers of her personality can arise.

During these moods Darby has been known to display harmful and impulsive behavior such as having a complete disregard for her own safety, moral conduct, and lack of empathy. Her etiquette almost becoming Sociopathic in nature.

So all in all, Darby is just your typical human being with many different sides, moods and layers.

History

Though her parents are reluctant to admit it, Darby was born as the result of infidelity as her mother Rose Walten was stuck in an unhappy marriage when she got involved with Darby’s father Terri Warner. Unable to safely divorce her current husband as he was extremely abusive she simply walked out the door with her two daughters-Phillis Walten, and an unborn Darby who was still growing inside her.

Rose ran her cafe so she often wasn’t home and Terri had an office job though once the kids got older he started mostly working from home so he could spend more time with them. Darby’s love for computers started early when her grandpa bought her dad a newer model computer but he never used it, preferring his chunky 90′s computer to complete his work. It was then she began learning the ins and outs of computers. Long nights were spent pouring over any relevant books she could get her grubby child hands on, or through whatever info she could find over the internet which eventually led to her learning coding and programming as she got older.

Since early childhood Darby had always been athletic and only became more so as she grew older. It didn’t take long for her to be labeled a “Tomboy” but due to her androgynous appearance and unusual demeanor many of her classmates second guessed her gender. This naturally drew unwanted attention and cruelty. When high school arrived her confidence lowered significantly and she kept even more to herself. It came to a point where Darby just stopped going to school and got her GED, shortly after getting involved with a hacker group that simply went by ട0ṬeRiậ. Although they only communicated though a screen for the longest they were Darby’s closest companions. She had dabbled with hacking in the past but it was with ട0ṬeRiậ when she truly began to learn, but as her skills grew so did the ambition of the groups members. She had a falling out with them and that seemed to be the end of that until they threatened to frame Darby for a cyber crime a member of ട0ṬeRiậ had committed if she didn’t return to the group. Pushed into a corner she returned to ട0ṬeRiậ until she manages to collect and report all necessary information about the group and their crimes to have them arrested-keeping her own existence anonymous from the authorities all the while. Now with her former friends out of the way, Darby once again found herself alone.

She had few friends in school but after having to drop out they drifted further apart. She had the love of two, albeit, busy parents and her older sister Phillis but deep down Darby couldn’t shake the seed of loneliness that had long ago planted itself in her heart especially after the betrayal of ട0ṬeRiậ who she had believed in the beginning were her friends. This is the point where Darby started turning her hacking skills into a career. For the next several years she would turn over many criminals to the law in a very “cyber vigilante” fashion. Once she started making a name for herself people would contact her offering jobs. She did the usual missing persons, cheating spouses, ect, but later on the jobs started getting more bizarre and dangerous. For example the events of “La Galerie” Read Verses Page For Further Information

Relationships

Terri (Terrance) Warner

Darby had a good relationship with her dad but there was always a wall between them as her father suffered from undiagnosed depression due to his sad childhood. She still kept in contact with him until La Galerie where she cut off all ties with her family for their own safety.

Rose Walten

The two also had a fine connection but as her mother was almost always away at work Darby didn’t see as much of her as she would have liked growing up. Last time she spent any real time with Rose was a weekend after Darby graduated where she helped out at the cafe. Any other interaction after that had been over a phone and now nothing at all.

Phillis Walten

“I won’t leave my sister to die.”-Phillis, talking about rescuing Darby from La Galerie

The sisters always had a close bond since in their childhood it was mostly just the two left to their own devices. Growing up they did start to go their separate ways but they still found time every so often to do things together. The two haven’t had any contact since La Galerie.

Marnie Michelle

“This place messed with my mind, but I remember enough to know you don’t deserve an easy death.”-Darby, preparing to kill Marnie

One of the two hosts hooked up in the janky makeshift Stem system. Very hostile to one another (more so on Darby’s part), the almost opposite morals of the two women made them natural enemies. Marnie spends the entire plot of La Galerie serving as an antagonist to Darby, either thwarting her attempts at escaping the machine or tormenting her. After the months of torture Darby is subjected to during her time in the machine the hacker makes sure to pay it back tenfold when she kills her.

Dr Stuart Turney

“Is that where you got your degree in being an insufferable pretentious bitch?”-Darby, interrupting Stuart

The other host of La Galerie, Stuart almost tries to befriend Darby at times seeming a bit smitten by the hacker. Darby is openly aggressive towards the doctor, attacking him on almost every occasion they run into each other. Once he realizes she can’t be swayed he becomes much more unsympathetic to her. He eventually meets his end at the hands of Phillis who entered the machine to save Darby.

Trivia

In her free time Darby enjoys exercising (most notably yoga), puzzles (Darby has wasted many an afternoon on puzzle boxes), watching dramas (mostly foreign ones), and staring into the void.

In the past Darby has suffered from slight body dysmorphia most likely stemming from the criticism she received about her looks in both child and adulthood. Nowadays Gymnophobia is her only issue. Nude artwork won’t necessarily bother her but being seen naked can have varying effects for her. This has lead to some rather unbearable situations for her during times when getting undressed was required.

Has no qualms (at least in the moment) with killing someone if she has to and has done so in the past either in person or indirectly.

Doesn’t fully realize it herself, but Darby has a manipulative side and is a bit of a control freak.

Although never displayed as of yet, but if Darby were to acquire a friend (whether it be platonic or romantic) she might develop a well meaning tendency of lying to them/keeping them in the dark about what she does for a living if they aren’t already aware.

Darby has no faceclaim but Michael Hudson a Native American model and Ezra Miller were the inspiration for Darby’s appearance. Update: Technically Q’orianka Kilcher is Darby’s main faceclaim but she’s just too damn pretty and has like the opposite vibes that I need (I have very few icons using her because of this) so sometimes I use other folk for icons such Mica Arganaraz, a little bit of Ezra Miller and Willy Cartier but as they are all the incorrect ethnicity I try to partially obscure their faces.

[awellboiledicicle]

I had a Fallout 4 dream last night.

I was the sole survivor, as I usually am when i dream about being in that game, but I had appearantly been signed up for... some form of testing.  To keep my family fed.  Because Nate, my Nate, was injured in a battle up around Anchorage. Not the battle of Anchorage, not something big that would have gotten a medal-- though the purple heart sat on the dresser-- but a smaller one involving personnel carriers and stealth battalians and a strain of the plague that the government swore he’d been cleared of. He still coughed at night and I tried to ignore the same sort of coughing coming from Shaun, even though the doctors said he was fine. Nate couldn’t work, though, and even if he could-- there was nowhere to work.  My job at the law firm was secretarial and barely necessary-- my degree got me there by the skin of my teeth, but everything from bread to house payments was expensive. Even with his pay and oh lord was everything up in price from either inflation or scarcity. The rations and... pre-war was a mess. But the testing, the letter was detailed: a company commissioned by the military was going to need civilian test subjects for a series of tests and volunteers would be paid well. I was chosen because of my medical history and my name being in the military files. I should have smelled something off there, but we were desperate; even cutting out all the chems we’d been using to keep ourselves together wasn’t making ends meet enough for Shaun and we knew it. So i went.

They didn’t do too much, I thought, past making me very durable.  In the way that Wolverine is very durable or Deadpool is particularly persistent about healing. I was never willing to test if i was on that sort of level, but that was the idea of it. Sunlight made it better-- nothing they did to me lasted to the end of the day, and bones never broke. And i came home with enough money to feed everyone. I only told Nate i had found a second job, and he took to being more of a Mr. Mom than usual-- though i think he was saddened i refused to say what it was.  I think he may have died under the impression i was being unfaithful. I had that thought a lot.

By the time we went into the vault, I was probably horrifying internally. We had started on what would fit in the “Ghoulish” and “Rad Resistant” perk stack-- radiation absorption and use. I felt sick a good deal of the time at first, and then processed it. The day the bombs dropped i wondered if it was because the enemy had found out we’d gotten far enough in our research that vulnerability could be treated out.  “The Enemy”. It was silly, then, to imagine there were sides to the Great War. There were just bombs and humanity. Death and the poor creatures trying not to die. But i had been raised in a hailstorm of propaganda and demanded devotion to the American Way and i had been devoting my body and health to improving.. well, i assumed my research would go to our soldiers. People like my Nate.  Silly. We ran to the vault, and i swear I almost outpaced them. I almost left them behind-- if only because of fear and adrenaline covering my awareness. I hung back and made sure they were there and then i swear I almost steam rolled a man in full power armor. I didn’t care, we needed in. We got in, but i was determined and i was scared and we needed to move.  The clouds were brighter than they taught us they’d be in school. The wind was hotter too. I could smell burning atmosphere.  My eyes burned with the image of a mushroom cloud all the way inside the vault. The cloud stayed as we changed and got into the chambers. It outlined Nate and Shaun as the doors froze over. It faded only because of the decades passed in near darkness, frozen, before I saw Kellog kill my husband and take my child. I punched the door and left a dent.  The last light of it was gone as i eventually slumped to the floor.

Things were very awkward in the commonwealth for me.  I was mostly angry.  I went wandering from Sanctuary, found Dogmeat and took the killed molerats to the Abernathy’s farm and traded them for a place to stay and felt their pain for their lost daughter. I figured the station was on the way to Concord, and i was still fantastically angry some bald motherfucker stole my child and killed my husband, so ok. So, I killed the raiders. With a knife.  I heard shots echoing from Concord as i was walking the road back, and Dogmeat barked, so I went that way and saw more raiders. I only noticed the laser after I had stabbed them all. Well, all i could find.  I only half heard Preston telling me to get the musket, i was already heading inside. I... was very angry for a while. Very angry.  By the time i reached them, i was covered in blood and tired, but wondering if they were ok. They were understandably worried. I calmed their fears with molerat steaks. Dogmeat helped more than the food.

I got them to Sanctuary eventually, setting up trade with the Abernathy’s and getting things settled. The only problem was i tended to get very vigorously upset when my past was brought up.  Mama Murphey was standing outside my house in Sanctuary and started doing her sight talk and i lit it on fire with the flare gun and yelled for her to stop. I patently refused to be known.  Preston understood, i think, to the point of me being uncomfortable. There was evidence of people living there and having been killed in a stand off, so he and the others put it down to Mama Murphey pressing me about being a survivor of this.  I did help them rebuild and there was a good community, i just.. needed my space. So i ended up slowly making a whole new house on the burned foundation of my old one. Just, adding and adding and adding. No one bothering me as i wandered.  I took to scrapping in the area and selling said things to Carla as she came by, but eventually there were too many people. So i took to looking around.

I ended up-- there was a gap in the dream-- being hired by someone from Bunker Hill to go through the ruins and find niche old world shit. Because collectors like old shit and i had appearantly, an eye for it. My collecting was also bankrolling the minute men coming back because i was making Preston do it-- i told him if i had to, i would tell someone to get fucked at least 5 times because i have the patience of a radstag and that isn’t a leader thing-- but i was paying for the guns and ammo.  So my job was crawling around boston. So i went looking for someone to go around with me and I ended up in goodneighbor and that one guy, What’shisfuck, tried to extort me and i just. Stared at him before trying to walk past because i had shit to do and he tried to fight me and i punched him in the dick. Like, literally just, right to the dick.  And it killed him. I just stood there till Hancock came up and i just.  “You know, usually i have to stab people.” “Same, actually. Damn.”

So, aside that.

I get me my merc, aka Maccreedy because that’s who you need obviously when you’re going to be climbing things. The guy who can’t climb for shit. But like, because i tended to have these rather explosive “DON’T” reactions or otherwise i did reckless shit because i literally would survive it he got so pissed at me so much. Like we got along, and he liked working for me because i’d give him guns and money and made sure he was ok, i just did stupid shit.

Like “do not rush tHE SUPER MUTANTS-- BOSS FF NO” “THAT IS A BEHEMOTH” Or it’d be like 3am and we’re ass deep in ghoul infested ruins and i’ll just suggest we sleep in one area that’s only accessible by a tiny ledge that we got to through teamwork and a prayer and like OK IT’S TECHNICALLY SAFE but he’s not gonna do it. bc he’s him, but he’s not shared shit with me bc i don’t share shit with him. So its “i’m not sleeping in ghoul hell” “idk its got carpet and a pillow” “no” “safe tho” “no”

Well till we’d been working together about like 6 months and he started getting REALLY fidgety after getting letters at Daisy’s in Goodneighbor and like, we’d already dealt with the Gunners. Gunners was a cut an dry business discussion of ‘these guys are dicks lets kill them’.  Then we’re sitting in the Third Rail’s back room, thinking on the next buildings to go over and he’s like “So, btw” “what” “I have a.. i didn’t tell you but i have a kid” “you have a WHAT? WHERE” “In the Capitol Wasteland.” That whole convo but a lot more intense because i got about 4 inches from this man like ‘explain’ and then hugged the life out of him. Immediately. And got my shit together and told him to do the same so we could get going and he was surprised i was so hype and i went “yes? Child, in danger. let’s go”

It got fuzzy after doing his mission but like...... the only companion aside Codsworth to know my story in this dream was Mac because after we got Duncan the cure, Mac made the comment about bringing him North to one of the settlements up here since I was running them, i just didn’t talk to people personally. And i did so very well, i just wasn’t people focused. And I got really emotional at him and started crying and he asked what was wrong and i said i couldn’t be trusted to keep a kid safe and he asked what i meant and i like told him everything and like his whole response was “Damn”.

But like to everyone else in the Commonwealth i was this rather badass community planner/scavver that got into things and stabbed stuff because they were REALLY HARD TO KILL, but to Mac i was friendly neighborhood mom that was just really afraid someone would give me responsibility over someone i might let get hurt.

it was an interesting dream