#it would not have been received well upon launch

[audreyinajam]

Comic Markets And Cute Girls: The Seismic Influence Of Japan's Indie Developers

The year is 1975. The venue is Japan, the event is Comic Market. In a time when smaller studios, local artists, and producers of indie projects were turned away from conventions and expos, three students of Meiji University banded together to inaugurate a fan event where these creators and their works would be celebrated, rather than shunned.

Today, Comic Market is more commonly known as Comiket (コミケット, or コミケ—Komike—for short) the largest fan convention in the world. Hosting almost a million attendees in the year 2019, Comiket’s draw is that it is the biggest physical marketplace for doujinshi: self-published works of manga, anime, and video-games/software, produced by small studios, local artists, and in many cases, hobbyists.

Don’t believe the numbers? Well, see for yourself! Here’s a photo of the crowd in attendance on Day 1 of Comiket 97, held in Winter of 2019! (Picture from Petrit Elshani. (2019). Comiket 97 Day 1: The Calm Before the Storm. Otaquest. https://www.otaquest.com/comiket-97-day-1/)

For Japanese indie developers, Comiket functions in much the same way as does itch.io. The developers bring the game, and Comiket brings the storefront. And indeed while each Comiket event hosts the distribution of hundreds of Japanese indie games, it is to a highly receptive audience that these games are sold. Several indie titles first launched at Comikets of years past have since gone on to develop dedicated playerbases if not cult followings. But just how much of an impact have these Comiket releases ended up having on their players, and even on the industry as a whole?

Before the advent of Steam Marketplace and itch.io, in-person on-location marketplaces were by and large the only way to obtain media published by indie studios and small artists. In Australia, the United Kingdom, and America, the majority of these markets were zine fairs, which specialized in the distribution of zines.

In Japan, the biggest indie market has been Comiket since its inception and it continues to be exactly that to this day: thousands of small publishers and local creators set up stalls from which they sell their doujinshi, or self-published works, to an audience of fellow creators, players, and general fans alike. These doujinshi can be anything from transformative works—such as fanfiction and fanart—to completely original works featuring characters, settings, stories, and ideas entirely created and coded by the artist selling the work.

In spite of the superlative turnout it receives each bi-annual, Comiket as an event has yet to receive the same international recognition as commercial conventions the likes of San Diego Comic-Con (SDCC), Gamescom, and Penny Arcade Expo (PAX). For all that it has yet to become a household name, however, Comiket is no less one of the most significant events in the ongoing history of video-games as a medium. It was at Comiket that two pivotal video-games were first released for public engagement; it was over the span of several Comikets (held during the late nineties and early ‘aughts) that these two choice games began to lay the pavement upon which many successful indie franchises walk today.

One of the most notable, and certainly the most influential, original doujin games first sold at a Comiket was a little PC-98 title known only as Touhou Reiiden (東方靈異伝 in the original Japanese—which literally translates to ‘Wondrous Tale’, but which most fans tend to refer to as “Highly Responsive to Prayers’’).

A ‘bullet-hell’-style shoot-em-up, Touhou Reiiden released at the 52nd Comiket held in the year 1997, developed in its entirety by one mathematics student by name of Jun'ya Ota, who traded at Comiket by handle of ZUN, sole developer of the development team ZUN Soft. The game was published by Amusement Makers, a student-run video-game development club of which ZUN was a member. Development for this title had begun in 1995; an early build of the game was first shown off in 1996, at a campus festival held by ZUN’s university.

The original cover of the doujin game Touhou Reiiden, featuring series protagonist Reimu Hakurei. (Picture from Amusement Makers/ZUN. (1997). Touhou Reiiden. Touhou Wiki. https://en.touhouwiki.net/wiki/File:Th01cover.jpg)

According to ZUN himself, and as catalogued in Szczepaniak's The Untold History of Japanese Game Developers: Volume 1, thirty copies of Touhou Reiiden were sold at Comiket 52. ZUN would release a sequel shortly thereafter, titled Touhou Fuumaroku (‘Demon-Sealing Record’ literally, but more commonly known to fans as “Story of Eastern Wonderland”). Touhou titles #3, #4, and #5 were released over the span of the following year, and thus was formed a series of games that would come to be collectively known as Touhou Project. Correlating with ZUN’s graduation in 1998, the fifth game in the Touhou Project series was to be the final. ZUN was hired by the commercial game development studio Taito Corporation following his graduation, however he continued composing music for Amusement Makers in his spare time. Finally, in 2001, ZUN would establish Team Shanghai Alice, a doujin group all of his own.

It is worth noting that while Team Shanghai Alice is categorically a group, it is in fact comprised of only one person: the ZUN himself. All the games that Team Shanghai Alice have gone on to publish, therefore, are games that you could validly argue were self-published by ZUN and ZUN alone. A sixth Touhou Project game, titled Touhou Koumakyou—“The Embodiment of Scarlet Devil”—would be published by Team Shanghai Alice in 2002, functioning both as a sequel to the fifth Touhou Project game and a series revival, given the period of dormancy that had followed the series' last release back in 1998.

The original cover of the Touhou Koumakyou CD-ROM, featuring a silhouette of series antagonist Flandre Scarlet. (Picture from Team Shanghai Alice/ZUN. (2002). ~The Embodiment of Scarlet Devil. Touhou Wiki. https://en.touhouwiki.net/wiki/File:Th06cover.jpg)

Touhou Koumakyou was a seminal addition to Touhou Project. Not only did it introduce gameplay elements that would go on to become Touhou Project staples, it also introduced characters who would go on to be some of the most iconic in the series. The rest is history, as they say: since 2002, the Touhou Project series has more or less seen a new mainline release each year, with the series itself having grown in popularity and renown in kind. In Japan today, Touhou Project is a landmark series with staggeringly huge cultural presence.

But 2002 wasn't a pivotal year for Touhou Project alone. On the other side of Comiket, in that very same year, was launched the first entry in an altogether very different series of doujin games, a series that would go on to forge a legacy all of its own.

Higurashi no Naku Koro ni (ひぐらしのなく頃に—lit. “When the Cicadas Cry”, officially translated as Higurashi When They Cry) is a doujin game of the ADV genre that is known to English-speaking regions as the ’visual novel’ genre. To be precise, Higurashi no Naku Koro ni is a kinetic sound novel: the type of visual novel which contains a single, linear narrative with little to no gameplay, the sole player input being a click of the mouse or space bar in order to advance the on-screen text and therefore the story.

Rather than creating immersion through frenetic gameplay as do games in the Touhou Project series, Higurashi no Naku Koro ni (hereafter referred to as simply Higurashi) creates immersion through soundscaping, music, and sound effects, engaging the players’ imagination in much the way a novel might engage the imagination of its reader. A sound novel in eight installments, Higurashi no Naku Koro ni was released in parts, with the first of these—titled Onikakushi-hen (鬼隠し編—lit. “[the] Demoned Away chapter”)—having been released at that very Comiket of 2002.

The original cover of Higurashi no Naku Koro ni: Onikakushi-hen, featuring the characters (left to right) Mion Sonozaki, Satoko Houjou, Rena Ryuugu, Rika Furude, Jirou Tomitake, and Kuraudo Ooishi. (Picture from 07th Expansion/Ryukishi07. (2002). Onikakushi-hen. whentheycry.fandom.com. https://whentheycry.fandom.com/wiki/Onikakushi-hen?file=Higurashi_original_doujin_game.jpg)

As with the games comprising the Touhou Project, Higurashi was headed by one developer, an ex-social worker known only by his handle, Ryukishi07. Unlike ZUN with the Touhou Project, however, Ryukishi07 developed Higurashi with help: his friend BT assisted with coding, and BGM was sourced from a provider of royalty-free music. Ultimately, Ryukishi07 published Higurashi through the doujin group 07th Expansion, a team initially comprised of three individuals: Ryukishi07, Ryukishi07’s brother, and the aforementioned friend BT. In 2004, the group would gain a new member: the composer known only as “dai”, who would write the music for the fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth installments of Higurashi, as well as later sound novels released by the 07th Expansion team.

Of all the songs composed by dai for Higurashi, most notable is composition “you”, which has become a series anthem of sorts, popular among fans, and used as a motif in the anime adaptation of Higurashi, produced by Studio DEEN in the year 2006.

Higurashi's final installment was released in 2006, titled Matsuribayashi-hen (祭囃し編 “[the] Festival-Accompanying chapter”). Higurashi has since seen numerous manga and anime adaptations including the aforementioned, as well as a television drama, two feature-length films, various spin-off doujin games, and—most uniquely—a larger-than-life-size monument built in the rural Japanese town of Shirakawa-go in commemoration of the series’ tremendous legacy.

The monument in Shirakawa-go, featuring Higurashi characters (left to right) Keiichi Maebara, Satoko Houjou, Rika Furude, Rena Ryuugu, and Mion Sonozaki. (Picture from Lethargic Yuki Co. (Year unknown). Statues of The Club on a farm in the village. whentheycry.fandom.com. https://whentheycry.fandom.com/wiki/Shirakawa-go)

Now, the list of things that Touhou Project and Higurashi have in common is a short one; you could probably count them on one hand. One similarity is, naturally, that both games were first distributed at the Comiket convention by small video-game publishers and even smaller development teams. Another is that both series have, since their initial releases, gone on to be commercially rereleased both in Japan and in the West on platforms such as Steam, home consoles, and mobile app stores.

Though radically different Touhou Project and Higurashi may be in terms of gameplay, both series feature similar themes in terms of storytelling—where Touhou Project tells of one shrine maiden’s adventures with supernatural forces based on Japanese folklore, Higurashi is the tale of a shrine maiden struggling against her own fate in a world dictated by antiquated superstitions, a world trapped by traditional customs, a world sealed within itself by forces both supernatural and human. In Higurashi, this shrine maiden is a young girl by name of Rika Furude, miko of the Furude Shrine—in Touhou Project, the lead shrine maiden is one peace-seeking Reimu Hakurei, miko of the Hakurei shrine. Both protagonists play what is fundamentally the same role within their respective games, and so too is the player's role the same across both games. Whether you’re playing as Rika in Higurashi, or Reimu in Touhou Project, your task as either character is to close the rift between the paranormal and the normal, to bridge the world of demons (youkai in Touhou Project, oni in Higurashi) with the world of the humans in a way that harms nobody and saves everybody.

For the most significant similarity between Touhou Project and Higurashi, however, we need to look at the broader cast of characters that occupy each series. Not only do both Touhou Project and Higurashi star a large cast of characters, but both games star a large cast primarily comprised of what most players would call “cute girls”. Both series emphasize—and have in turn become famous for—their largely female casts, the girls of which are designed to be big-eyed, short-statured, and overall overly cute.

Touhou Project—preceding Higurashi by several years—technically did the whole ‘cute girls in supernatural situations’ thing first, but when Higurashi entered the scene in 2002, it took this basic setup and added to it a heavy helping of horror conventions. While Touhou Project did contain its own share of supernatural themes, it always handled these with a light heart and a tongue in cheek, never treating these themes too seriously, but rather toying with their cultural significance for comedic effect.

The very first instalment of Higurashi, on the other hand, would use supernatural themes as the basis for scenes of horror: brutal murders, stalking, characters being possessed by evil spirits, and demons stealing people away never to be seen again… Higurashi paired its cute girls with supernatural forces and played it not for laughs, but for scares, attracting notoriety—and therefore popularity—as it did so. Higurashi's coupling of cute girls with horror themes was considered especially novel at the time of its release. Not only was it a selling point for the series, but it would end up becoming the very basis of the series' persisting identity: to this day, it isn’t uncommon to hear Higurashi referred to as the one about the “killer loli[s]”. Higurashi's influence, accordingly, has not been endemic to its country of origin. We can see this if we turn to look at one of the most successful indie OELVNs (original English-language visual novels) of recent years: Doki Doki Literature Club, hereafter referred to as DDLC.

The cast of Doki Doki Literature Club! (left to right) Sayori, Yuri, Natsuki, and Monika. (Picture from Team Salvato. (2017). The Doki Doki Literature Club! splash screen. store.steampowered.com. https://store.steampowered.com/app/698780/Doki_Doki_Literature_Club/)

Featuring characters who echo archetypes first seen in Higurashi (parallels can be drawn between Higurashi’s Rika and DDLC’s Monika; between Rena and Sayori; between Shion and Yuri; between Satoko and Natsuki), DDLC does to its cute girls what Higurashi did to its first. DDLC sets up its majority female cast in a mundane environment of the bright and stakesless kind before introducing elements of horror that render the entire cast untrustworthy to the main character, turning the everyday setting into one stained with betrayal, murder, and so, so much blood.

In the West, Doki Doki Literature Club , but Higurashi did it first, and Higurashi arguably could not have done it first had the Touhou Project not primed audiences to be receptive to stories about cute girls in supernatural situations.

This is by no means the extent of the Touhou Project’s influence, however. Unlike Higurashi, which saw commercialization through its successive adaptations, Touhou Project has famously remained an indie work. Where the majority of Higurashi fans today were introduced to the series via its commercial adaptations (the Higurashi anime in particular was a point of entry for many), Touhou Project remains a series made ‘by fans, for fans’—today, the series is just as famous for its fanworks as it is for its core games.

Touhou Project merchandise for sale in a shop in Ikebukuro, Tokyo. (Picture from FuyuMaid. (2023). Touhou dedicated shop in Ikebukuro, Tokyo!. reddit.com. https://www.reddit.com/r/touhou/comments/16oa27n/touhou_dedicated_shop_in_ikebukuro_tokyo/?rdt=45365)

The influence of the Touhou Project on Japanese video-games (and, increasingly, Western video-games) is almost unquantifiable. Every year, hundreds upon hundreds of Touhou fanworks are produced by its fanbase, ranging from fan art, to fan comics and fangames, and even to fanmixes and -remixes.

Comprised of themes, leitmotifs, and recurring melodies, Touhou Project’s soundtrack has been mixed and remixed into near-infinitum by its fans. Historically, it's been tradition (however unspoken) to publish these remixes via the video sharing site Nico Nico. But many fanmixes are becoming increasingly available via mainstream platforms like iTunes, Spotify, and Apple Music. Some even see publication in CD form, and these CDs in turn may be distributed at fan-run events such as conventions, or on the shelves of commercial music shops.

In short, the Touhou Project isn’t ZUN’s and ZUN’s alone—it is a fan project, and indeed without its bafflingly prolific fanbase, it never would have achieved the status it proudly holds today. It may never have received the same degree of commercialization that Higurashi did, but Touhou Project has nonetheless become so popular as to become commercially available: Touhou merchandise, CDs, artbooks, and other paraphernalia features regularly in such commercial stores as AmiAmi and Animate, and big-name brands such as GoodSmile routinely release figurines, statues, Fumos, and Nendoroids featuring fan-favorite members of the Touhou Project cast.

This is absolutely comparable to—and, I would argue, the precursor of—the kind of widespread success that certain Western indie video-games would see in later years.

Five Nights at Freddy’s, much like Touhou Project, began as a small indie release which was quickly latched on to by fans and was thence fan-worked into perpetuity. As of 2024, countless FNAF fangames can be found on itch.io and Steam (the latter of which is, incidentally, also a prominent hub for Touhou fangames). Further, FNAF’s uniquely- and recognizably-designed cast of characters was of immediate interest to fans at the time—so much so that these FNAF characters have received comparable quantities of fanart to what has been given to the cast of the Touhou Project over these past twenty-five-odd years.

From left to right, Bonnie the Bunny, Freddy Fazbear and Chica the Chicken as seen in Five Nights At Freddy's. (Picture from Scott Cawthon. (2014). Five Nights At Freddy's. store.steampowered.com. https://store.steampowered.com/app/319510/Five_Nights_at_Freddys/)

Though radically different these video-game series may seem, neither of them would have risen to the same success they have were it not for the efforts of their fans. FNAF and Touhou Project are successful indie games even without the backing of commercialization because they are carried just as mightily on the backs of their fans.

Undertale is another Western indie game of relative recency whose fanbase echoes that of the Touhou Project. Just as the musically-inclined contingent of Touhou fans have taken the melodies present in the series’ soundtracks and remixed them ad infinitum, a similar phenomenon has emerged in response to Toby Fox’s Undertale. Fans of Undertale have taken its themes and remixed these with such prolific fervor as to render these themes recognizable to even those who haven't played the game in question.

You can even draw parallels between ZUN’s work on Touhou Project and Toby Fox’s work on Undertale, what with ZUN's writing the characters, the game code, and every musical number himself, just as Toby Fox has done for his own Undertale and deltarune indie projects. In fact, you might even say that Toby Fox’s ‘do-the-whole-thing-yourself’ ethic was directly inspired by the developer ZUN’s work on Touhou Project—and Toby Fox himself might even agree, going on the record as he did to cite Touhou Project and ZUN as a huge inspiration for his work!

@tobyfox on Twitter. (Fox, 2018). https://twitter.com/tobyfox/status/999210405959426048

Thus we see that not only did Touhou Project’s persistently productive playerbase pave the way for Undertale’s similarly-prolific playerbase, but that Undertale itself just mightn’t exist today as it does—were it not for ZUN and the work he did on Touhou Project.

There is so much more I could talk about in terms of the effect that Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni and Touhou Project both have had on indie games—certainly more than fits into the parameters of this essay!

But the TL;DR of all of the above is that many of the biggest Western indie games of this day and age take their influence—both incidentally and consciously—from some of the biggest indie titles to come out of Japan in the late nineties and the early ‘aughts.

Games such as Touhou Project and Higurashi no Naku Koro ni may be unknown to the average Doki Doki Literature Club or Five Nights at Freddy’s fan, but neither game would be as they are today were it not for Touhou Project, Higurashi, and the trailblazing work of such Comiket developers as ZUN and Ryukishi07.

Though their games were coded in small studios by even smaller development teams, their influence has reached across both countries and time. To this day, Higurashi no Naku Koro ni and Touhou Project continue to inspire media and fanbases on the other side of the world.

[northmarch]

If I had a nickel for every time a popular, story driven LEGO theme introduced a new continuity, met with mixed to mediocre reception. Only to later share a radically different, earlier iteration of the story which involves TIME TRAVEL and sticks closer to the lore of the original series. Immediately hailed as a far superior concept which should have been moved forward with. Ignoring the fact that most of the criticisms levelled toward the final product were more a consequence of the new stories execution than its concept.

I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it’s happened twice.

[franzis-frantic-thoughts]

Who’s Afraid of Alex J. Newall? by Newt Schottelkotte is definitely worth a read to everyone who’s a fan of Rusty Quill Productions.

I count myself amongst those. Which is why I want to add to something mentioned in the article that I, alongside @nossorgs​ have special insight into:

The Transcripts.

In light of everything that has happened this year, the way people inside of RQ have been mistreated, abused, and exploited, the transcripts appear to be a minor issue. But as Newt has pointed out beautifully: They’re a symptom of something much bigger, namely disregard, miscommunication, incompetence, reliance on free fan labour and pretending to be something they’re not. In this case the producer of inclusive and accessible content.

The official RQ transcripts were launched early this year and it was immediately clear how terrible they are. Countless fans have surely reached out to RQ to let them know. After all, there’s a handy feedback form. A feedback form which, incidentally, is neither up-to-task, nor easily accessible as it isn’t linked anywhere near the transcripts, but only in the 26 January 2022 “news” update.

However, Nossorgs and I, as professionals in the language service industry, had concerns that couldn’t be addressed in the feedback form. So we sat down together and wrote a very long email, which we sent to RQ on 22 February 2022. We have received no reply.

I’m now, after checking with Nossorgs, publishing the email here, because I don’t want anyone to say “well maybe they didn’t know”. They knew. They just didn’t care.

They didn’t even care enough to fix these issues by today.

Here’s the email and all the exemplary screenshots are below a cut.

Dear Rusty Quill Team,

congratulations on launching your new website and releasing the transcripts for the RQ original shows.

Upon review of several transcripts (in particular the ones created for Rusty Quill Gaming), we wanted to voice some concerns with the company or software used to generate the transcripts, since there appears to have been a grievous lack of quality control and a large number of errors have made it to the released transcripts. Screenshots are attached and a list of general concerns can be found below.

As professional linguists, who variously have been or are currently employed as editors, translators, transcribers, or project managers in the language service sector (each with QA responsibilities), with over a decade of experience, we would highly recommend requesting a partial or total refund from the companies involved in generating these transcripts. As provided, the transcripts lack any form of serious quality control and may even indicate that the supplier(s) you have partnered with are fraudulent.

With the professional experience we have, we understand the difficulties that come with transcribing audio of this type. One speaker having multiple voices, crosstalk, and "unusual" turns of phrase (i.e. Pathfinder mechanics and terminology) being used pose great difficulties. However, the concerns we would like to voice are unrelated to the content of RQG, but basic issues that any professional linguist should have been able to avoid.

Many of the concerns we have can be traced to a lack of consistency, which could have been avoided by the simple creation and adherence to a style guide. Did your transcription supplier provide or request one? With a project as big as this, it would have been standard practice.

Please find a list of general concerns below, the file names of relevant screenshots have been added in brackets:

Many spelling and grammar errors, which indicate a lack of language skill (Spelling001 to 005). Professional linguists should only ever work in their native language to avoid such issues. There are official ISO guidelines regarding linguistic qualifications, which any agency of worth is aware of and regularly audited on.

Misspelling of player and character names and misattribution of lines (Spelling001 to 005). We do not know whether RQ provided a list of cast and character names to the transcription provider, but they should have realised that many unusual names are included and references are needed. They should have reached out and requested a list if it hadn't been provided. If it was provided, it was clearly not consulted.

Lack of organisation: The very first episode is mislabelled as episode 25 in the transcript (Episode1_mislabeled). Episode 25, in turn, only seems to be available in a word format, not as a pdf (this also seems to apply to other episodes, such as 203). The transcripts are not labelled in a consistent pattern, meaning that they are not sorted consecutively by episode number in the RQ Sharepoint, making browsing difficult (Filing001).

Lack of consistent speaker tagging: In most transcripts, the players are not distinguished from the characters they are playing, and the formatting is inconsistent in the episodes that do note in-character speech (Characters001 to 003). This is probably due to your transcription provider splitting the work over multiple people. This is a common and reasonable approach to spread the workload. However, the linguists should have agreed on a common system, or the central project manager should have dictated one. Lack of cast/character distinction renders the transcripts as good as unreadable.

Lack of basic QA regarding completion: Episode 183 includes internal formatting remarks of the supplier, which should have been deleted by them prior to delivery (CW001).

Content warnings: Listing of content warnings is inconsistent, if present at all, with one remark noting that content warnings were unavailable because they were not listed in the (fan-made) wiki (CW002). It is concerning that the transcription provider would refer to a fan-made, unofficial source, when RQ provides content warnings with all episodes in the episode notes. Surely, these are also available at RQ internally in a centralised document which could have been requested by the supplier.

We understand you are probably very busy creating and promoting your new shows and troubleshooting your new website, but transcripts of this quality actively harm your reputation as an accessible and inclusive company. The mantra "better than nothing" only applies to a certain extent here. Low-quality transcripts, such as these, are of no help to those who rely on them. Clear labelling of actors vs characters is needed in order to follow the podcast, and content warnings should have been included whether they are available on the fan wiki or not. Even if these transcripts are intended as first drafts, to be revised and polished at a later stage, they are at best unuseable and at worst dismissive towards those members of the fan community who are hard of hearing or have auditory processing issues.

Professionally, we recommend that you reach out to your supplier with the list of concerns and screenshots we have collected and request corrections. Whether or not you also request a (partial) refund is up to you, but we also recommend you do. If you do not trust your original supplier to take care of the required corrections accurately, it would be standard practice to request a quotation from another supplier and contact the original transcription provider with this quotation in order to bill them for the additional financial burden. Before choosing a (second) supplier and contracting them for all 200+ reworks, it would be advisable to do a small batch of transcripts first, in order for you to get a feeling for their quality, as well as allow them to make an accurate estimate of the effort involved and ask any questions that may already have come up.

In the language service industry, it is not uncommon to have to rework one's deliveries. Language is subjective and linguists are people. Mistakes happen. We understand this better than most fans. However, no professional, qualified linguist would have signed off on these transcripts with the feeling of a job well done. There are human errors, and there is a gross lack of basic quality assurance. Unfortunately, the RQG transcripts, as they are, fall into the latter category.

If you would like to get in touch, we would be more than happy to share our professional knowledge and experience regarding linguistic projects such as these, in order to help you avoid such problems in the future, for instance if and when you decide to add transcripts for side quests, specials, and bloopers. We are aware that you don’t usually work with fans and understand and respect the reasoning behind the decision, however, many linguists in the fan community are prepared to offer their own services as transcribers. You have a wide range of professionals in your fan community, and all of them come with the additional benefit of being familiar with the source material and understanding what format these transcripts should take in order to be of use.

With kind regards,

Spelling001

Spelling002

Spelling003

Spelling004

Spelling 005

Episode1_mislabelled

Filing001

Characters001

Characters002

Characters 003

CW001

CW002

[hesthermay]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 (𝐏𝐓 𝟏)

PAIRING: sergeant hunter x fem!oc reader

SUMMARY: the assignment of miri rocksled to clone force 99 brought an even higher success rate than the two groups presented on their own; in the times of the clone wars a well working and formidable team was necessary for the republic, but little did it know that the decision would become the biggest thorn in the empires side. master rocksled had never been like other jedi, and the bad batch had never been like other clones, and as they navigate the end of everything they had known and the beginning of something dark those traits are put to the test. rules no longer exist, lines are blurred, and forbidden waters are tread as the bad batch fight the great fight for everything they deserve.

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

RATINGS + WARNINGS: general audiences, mature themes, angst. female oc, use of she/her, mentions of death and order 66. eventual series. follows the bad batch timeline.

NOTES: bada bing bada boom another one?! what?! im just fuckin good like that (im really not this has taken me a bit but im done and now im ready for you all to see it)

STAR WARS MASTERLIST THE GREAT FIGHT MASTERLIST

The scene that Clone Force 99 and their General walked into was familiar to them at this point. 

Chaos, in its entirety, had consumed Kaller as Republic forces fought off Separatist battle droids coming from every direction. The ground, covered with snow, was black with ash from the repeated firing of weapons; this battle had been long, and it was not over yet. 

Depa Billaba had requested backup, and though these were not the fighters she had wanted, they were all she was going to get. The Republic was stretched thin, it had seemed they had reached the climax of the Clone Wars and though it was only an inkling, it felt as if something was just over the hill. 

“Master Rocksled!” Someone called from the treeline. The young Caleb Dunne, sent to retrieve said backup, watched in awe as the stories he had heard came true right in front of him. 

Miri Rocksled was not like other Jedi, and in very fitting fashion, her troopers were not like other clones. Master Billaba had told him that was why she was assigned to them, and together they were the odd ones out of the GAR. 

Caleb’s words had been lost in the noise, but eventually the last droid had been smashed and all attention was on him. “Master Rocksled,” he repeated, breathing slightly heavy. 

“Commander Dunne, it looks like we’re your reinforcements,” she replied, grinning slightly as she walked closer towards him, the clones following suit. “What’s it looking like down there?” 

After a plan was devised, the padawan was sent back to his master with the promise that they were right behind him. There was doubt, and a lot of it, upon his return. It did not look promising, him showing up empty handed with talks of five clones and one Jedi, but he asked for trust anyways. And it was not in vain, as the giant boulder that had caught the attention of the droids came crashing into view, making for a grand entrance. 

Clone Force 99 made quick work of things with detonators, blasters, their very skilled sniper, brute force, strategic maneuvers, and one orange bladed lightsaber.

“I don’t believe it,” Captain Grey started, lowering the binocs as he watched. “That’s Clone Force 99.”

The two Jedi turn their heads to glance at him, and then one another. “And that’s Miri Rocksled,” Caleb whispered to his master, eyes blown wide. 

……..

“Master Billaba,” Miri greeted, sheathing her lightsaber and clipping it to her waist. For a split second she gave thought to the second saber she was set to receive soon and the excitement to have an addition to her signature handle.  

“If you’re done hiding down there, I suggest you launch a counterattack,” Hunter interjected, helmet under his arm. “Another droid battalion’s approaching.”  

Grey stepped forward, on attack mode in the presence of clones who regarded the protocol he was held to as merely a suggestion. It was even evident in the way they had just addressed a Jedi General, someone who outranked them all as an army. “The General is the one who gives the orders around here.”

Billaba held out her hand, an effort to ease the clone's frustrations as they were not needed, nor helpful.“He’s right, Captain. This is our chance,” she nodded her head slightly, sure of her words. “Launch the counterattack.” 

With that, the men were sent on their way and Master and Padawan came out into the open. “There you are little Jedi,” Wrecker stated, pushing his way to the front. “You missed all the fun.”

Caleb, who pulled his hood off, grinned. “Watching your team in action was all the fun.” Miri was reminded of being a padawan and being in awe of some of the Masters when she watched them spar, or went on assignments with them. 

Billaba stepped forward, placing a hand on the young boy's shoulder. “Care to introduce your new friends, Caleb?”

“Yes, Master. This is Wrecker,” he gestured to each one as he named them off. “Hunter, Echo, Tech, and Crosshair.” He turned back to her when there was only one left. “And, you know Master Rocksled, don’t you?” 

“Yes, I do,” she affirmed with a slight smile before turning her head back to the rest. “While I’m not sure ‘fun’ is the sentiment I would express, I agree with my Padawan. Your exploits were quite impressive. The Council was right when we assigned you to them,” she directed at Miri, who only shrugged one shoulder. 

“Exploits?” Wrecker questioned, confusion written all over him as he looked around. 

Behind him, Crosshair walked by with his rifle propped on his shoulder. “Don’t overthink it, Wrecker,” he commented, as snide as ever. Crosshair had been an acquired taste, but his attitude was tolerable with some time. 

“Thank you, General,” Echo stepped up, almost as straightlaced as ever. As a reg, Echo expressed different traits than that of the experimental unit when it came to working with others, but that was not a testament to his place within the Batch. Echo had found a home in Clone Force 99, one that he had not thought he would get a chance at after the Citadel. 

Master Billaba’s inquisitive eyes were once again on her fellow Jedi. “Would you care to explain where my actual reinforcement are, Master Rocksled?” 

Miri sighed ever so slightly, for her answer to that question was not a good one, nor a helpful one. “Rerouted to the capital. I’m afraid we’re all you’re getting, my friend,” she replied lowly. 

“Ha! We’re all you need,” Wrecker boasted, hands on his hips. And for almost the first time since this interaction had started, Tech looked up from his device. 

“Actually,” he held up a finger, a signature pose for the brainiac of the group. “If my intel is correct, the General will not need any of us. The Clone War may soon be over.” 

Intrigue trickled down from the crown of Miri’s head at his words. Her feeling, the one that had been nagging and nagging, that something was to come entered the forefront of her mind. She did not hear the responses to Tech’s statement, but she did hear him begin once again, more information to unload. “I am referring to the encrypted comm chatter. Clone intelligence is reporting that Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi has found and engaged General Grievous on Utapau.”

“No way,” Miri whispered. This had been something her, Obi-Wan, and Anakin had been trying to chase for ages now, and it would seem one of her friends had finally reached their goal. General Grievous was the answer to ending the droid army that upheld the Separatist’s defenses. 

“If he captures or kills Grievous, the Separatist command structure will collapse,” Echo affirmed her thoughts. 

“And most likely the droid armies along with them.”

“A fascinating theory,” Master Billaba cut in, “yet unfortunately not something we can control from here. I suggest we focus on the task at hand.” 

Hunter glanced at Miri before looking back at Billaba. With a shrug of his shoulders, he stepped forward. “Any orders? Or shall we do what we do?” Helmets were placed on heads, and Wrecker cheered, boisterous voice filling the space around them.  

“Let’s blow something up. Yeah!”

Caleb had watched them this entire time with a smile on his face, and it made Miri feel giddy. She always got a kick out of impressing the younglings and padawans. “Well, Caleb, shall we let them do what they do?” Master Billaba questioned, as if she had seen the same thing. It was nice, to see her Padawan smile in these trying times he was forced to grow up in; a welcome change when circumstances permitted. 

“Only if I can go with them,” he countered eagerly, looking up at his mentor. 

She glanced over at Miri, who only nodded before the woman grinned. “Very well,” she conceded. 

“Hey, kid, you ready for this? We move fast,” Hunter emphasized, deep voice coming out gravelly through the modulator.

“Good,” Caleb shot back with a quirked brow, “that’s the only way I know.” He earned a laugh from Wrecker before they started to dart off, but Miri remained where she was. It was Hunter who shot her a look over his shoulder, a silent question. 

“I’m going to speak with Master Billaba for a second,” Miri answered, playing off the heaviness on her shoulders. “Go on, Sergeant. I’ll catch up,” she smiled, hoping it would be enough to send him off. She was his general, and technically she had given him an order that he could not go against, but things were different in the Batch. 

Things were different between Miri and Hunter. 

As inappropriate and forbidden as it was, the pair had found themselves harboring something of a romance. It was not spoken of, it couldn’t be spoken of; but it did not need to be. Miri knew she was special to Hunter, and he knew he was special to her. It was as simple as that, for the Jedi Order would only let it be so. 

It had worked, however she knew she would be questioned later. The pause before he nodded told her he had picked up on whatever it was she was trying to keep at bay, and even though he ran off after one final salute she still felt his presence as she turned to her colleague. 

“What is it, Master Rocksled?” Billaba questioned, eyes still trained on her padawan in the distance. 

“Do—” she started, but had to rethink her wording once again. “Do you feel like something is about to happen?” She asked, sincerity written on her face because she was desperate to know why she had grown heavier by the minute. Billaba’s focus had now moved to her, squinted eyes watching the young woman as her question hung in the air. “Like…like we're at the top of the hill, but what’s on the other side isn’t what we’ve been expecting?”

“Miri…” She whispered, shaking her head ever so slightly as her mind registered and her thoughts raced. She never got to continue, however, as behind her Captain Grey received a message through the commlink in his helmet. As Miri’s eyes watched him turn away from them, she grew ominously cold. Dread poured over her body, and in her peripheral she saw Master Billaba cautiously look over her shoulder, as a hologram activated. 

A cloaked figure, hunched over with a voice almost familiar to them, spoke directly to the clones. “Execute Order 66.” 

Captain Grey did not respond verbally, but he did comply by putting the holo device back on his belt and staring at the Generals before him for a moment longer, before drawing his weapon and firing two shots off, both aimed at their heads. Lightsabers were drawn as the pair dodged the blaster fire, but more troopers were closing in. 

Depa Billaba and Miri Rocksled found the same weapons their soldiers used against their enemies aimed at them instead. In the back of her mind, Miri knew this was it. The crest of the hill they’d been climbing for three years, the cause of the sick and twisted feeling in her stomach, and the ultimate demise of the Jedi Order as a whole. 

In the distance, it would seem that the same feeling had reached Caleb; the dread had stretched through the air and clouded around him through the Force, and he slowed his pace until he was still. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he heard the sounds of saber blades deflecting blaster shots, and he slowly turned. 

Troopers, his troopers, drawing in on the two Masters, shots aimed to kill. His ears began to ring and he sprinted toward them, drawing his own saber. “Master!” He shouted, a desperation in his voice he knew would raise brows, but he didn’t care. Horror filled his body Billaba and Rocksled were separated, and the distance between the troopers and the Jedi was growing smaller and smaller. He stopped in his tracks as his master risked a look at him. 

“You must run!” She screamed, hand held out in a desperation she knew would be frowned upon, but she didn’t care. As his feet remained glued to the ground, her eyes remained on him. With her back exposed, a shot landed on her shoulder that rendered her arm almost useless as she tried to defend herself. “Run, Caleb!” She cried out, words echoing as her padawan turned and followed her orders. 

Miri had been pushed far enough away that the Bad Batch couldn't see her when they turned and watched the kid run towards the brutal scene, but she was close enough to still see the fall of Jedi Master Depa Billaba, and every emotion that she had been warned about filled her to the brim. Fear, horror, anger, grief, they washed over her until her limbs felt like they were made of stone. Sweat covered her face despite the snowy climate of Kaller, and she felt every burn from a grazed blaster shot, every bruise from trying to fight them off, and when the first successful shot landed on her left thigh, she fell to the scarlett stained snow. As they drew in closer, like predator hunting prey, one hand reached out on instinct. The Force, a power not to be trifled with yet one she was not even sure one would come to her, pushed them back but did little to stop them. 

One opportunity, that she was lucky enough to have given herself, to escape. To where, she did not know. With whom, well, she knew it would be nobody. She was on her own, and she deliberately pushed the existence of Clone Force 99 out of her mind. She could not afford to think of them participating in this betrayal, could not afford to feel the debilitating heartbreak of her boys turning on her. Instead, she grunted as she struggled to rise from the ground, the cold seeping through the gaps between the bits of armor she wore as she held a hand out towards where her friend lay. Depa’s lightsaber flew to her and smacked against her palm, and she grasped it with a tight fist as she retreated. Pain radiated from the wound on her leg, and her skin stung as it rubbed against the fabric of her clothes, but she used it to push her forward, to fuel her escape as she attempted to form a plan in her hazy mind. 

The treeline was the obvious choice, more things to hide behind, more things to block their view as they aimed at her. She skirted through the woods, not caring for the prints she left behind; she was too weak to hide in the treetops to avoid the snow so she did the best she could to make up for the trail leading them right to her. Trickery.

They would find her, and they would shoot at her, and to them they would succeed. Miri Rocksled would fall at the hands of the Cone Army, and it would be logged somewhere for someone to keep track of.

But this would not be so, as the drop off before her filled in the gaps of her plan. She would need to pull out some theatrics, rather unconventional for a Jedi but she never claimed to follow the grain, and perhaps she could pull off this scheme. 

And so, when the shots started firing in her direction once again, she did not dodge them. She ran towards the drop off, feeling the heat from the blaster fire as it got closer and closer, and once the edge was in sight she drew Depa’s saber, turning as if she was cornered and this was her last chance to fight. Convincing, as the troopers took her bait and opened fire directly on her, and she only put up as much of a fight as she needed before the real test began. Her focus drifted from the men before her, and the outside noise drowned itself out. The Force, as present as ever, was all around. It was one with her, and it was always with her. 

Her heart slowed in her chest, and it seemed as if things moved in slow motion as she let Captain Grey shoot her in the abdomen, the pain harsh but dulled with the rest of her senses as she used the Force to put her body in a state of comatose. She dropped the lightsaber, using the momentum from the shot to send herself over the edge. She let herself plummet towards the snowy abyss below, slowing herself slightly. When her body collided with the ground, clouds of powdery snow erupted around her, almost shrouding her as the clones looked over the edge. 

Her eyes weren’t quite shut, lashes touching as she lay with her head rolled to the side, arms splayed out. Her heart was barely beating, her body mimicking all signs of death in the very name of preservation. In her mind, she thought of her own clones as the ones above confirmed that they had taken out both Jedi Generals. They scooped up the lightsaber before retreating, the presumed dead woman left to freeze on Kaller only a small blip in their minds.

Memories of her squad replayed in her mind as time passed, the coast long since clear as she remained stuck in the icy hold of the world around her. Memories of Hunter, of how beautiful he really was to her, how much he wanted to protect her. 

If you don’t move, you’ll die. 

His voice, just a whisper of him, echoed in her ears when all noises had been blocked out by the ringing silence. 

You are going to freeze. You are bleeding out. 

Wake up, Miri. Wake up. 

It was with the last snap of his words that all her senses rushed back to her at once, jolting her from her stupor. She gasped, eyes wide as her body worked to resume its normal functions after such a pause. Pain seeped in as much as the cold, and she reminded herself that she was fighting the great fight; she did not have time to dwell on such things. Escape was imperative, and time was dwindling. She had been trained for this, her whole life had been learning how to survive against all odds with the gift she had been given, and this was not going to stop her. 

all works on this blog belong to hesthermay.tumblr.com: do not copy, repost onto other sites, or claim my content as your own.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Human Politics

“Session is called to order,” the human speaker announced in a booming voice, “prepare to seal the hall.”

Xindi took note of how quickly the human senators rushed into the room and took their seats as pairs of guard took up station at every entrance to the chamber. He had expected one or two of them at least to argue or ignore the speaker as he was technically of a lower status then they were, yet all of them finished whatever they were doing and rushed to their seats like children in a school.

The speaker slammed the butt of his staff into the ground three times and in unison the guards began closing the doors. A few senators who were unlucky enough to still be outside tried to force their way inside but the guards would not let them. Xindi could hear them arguing and pleading with the guards but still they remained unmoved until one by one the doors closed shut.

“Those absent will be noted and chastised in the following session.” The human speaker announced as they quietly scanned the room and wrote down those missing from their vacant chairs. When this was finished they looked towards Xindi and motioned for him to stand.

“This emergency session has been called to hear the proposal for assistance by the Drenari Federation delegation.” The speaker then motioned to the opposite side of the chamber where another group sat waiting. “We shall then hear the Ken’dar delegation’s response before beginning open debate.”

Xindi glared towards the small group opposite him in the hall. He had not been aware that the Ken’dar would send a delegation as well, but he imagined that they had learned of the Drenari’s plan to seek assistance from humanity and sent the delegates to block any hope for an alliance between the two powers.

With this the speaker stepped down from the central podium and Xindi walked over. He could feel every pair of eyes in the room locked on him as what should have been a short distance suddenly felt like an eternity.

He took the podium in stride and felt the warmth of the lights bearing down upon him. The heat made him wince in pain as his people had evolved deep underground and were averse to intense light sources. He could have made a comment to the speaker to adjust the light, or worn thicker clothing to dull the effect; but he wanted to show the humans that he and his people were not so fragile that light alone could break their resolve.

“For the last month,” Xindi began, “my people have endured a series of constant attacks from the Ken’Dar fleet along our borders.” He removed a small holographic display unit from his robe and placed it on the podium. With a few short key entries it hummed to life projecting a large image at the center of the room.

The hologram showed a territorial map displaying the systems controlled by the Drenari in green, and the Ken’dar in red along an extensive boarder. Markers appeared at several points to highlight the border skirmishes between the two powers.

“These attacks we were able to contain with little effort but within the last week the nature of the conflict shifted drastically.”

Entering a new set of keys the hologram showed a long stretch of red suddenly appear and carve its way through the green territory nearly cutting it in two with how far it expanded. “The Ken’dar launched a massive invasion force that overwhelmed our fleets and put to siege several of our primary worlds.”

Several of the human senators murmured amongst themselves and those around them as they took in the new information. “While this attack was sudden and unexpected, this is not the reason I stand before you.” Xindi continued.

“On each and every world the Ken’dar have set foot on we have received reports, both transmitted and carried first hand by survivors, of the brutality and senseless destruction they have carried out against my people.”

Yet again the hologram changed from a star map to playing hastily taken footage. From behind chest high cover the camera holder watched as Ken’dar soldiers kicked in door of hab units only to then fire wildly into them before moving on to the next one and repeating the horrific process. Screams could be heard from inside each unit that sounded like women and children.

The feed cut away to another scene of horror as Ken’dar soldiers lined up several Drenari civilians against a wall and executed them one by one. The backs of their heads exploding out like popped balloons before slumping over into a pool of their own blood.

Xindi didn’t have to look at the faces of the human senators; their gasps and more vocal bodily movements were enough to tell him that they were equally surprised and disgusted at what they were seeing. Precisely the reason Xindi had chosen those records for viewing out of the collection of gathered intelligence. He knew that humans were visual creatures, and seeing such horrors would do far more to reinforce what he was going to ask.

“I come before this august body and ask for the Terran Alliance to intervene and end this senseless violence that has been unleashed upon my people.”

There was no thunderous applause or cheers at the end of his speech; only the hushed murmurs of conversations. Xindi let his eyes wander over the gathered senators but only saw their undecided eyes looking back. From the side of the room the speaker struck his staff three more times and Xindi stepped down and returned to his previous spot.

“We will now hear the Ken’dar delegation.” The speaker announced as the Ken’dar stepped forward to the podium. Their robes were elaborate and richly designed, highlighting a certain level of status and nobility.

To Xindi the delegate looked like a sofa had learned to be a real biped and decided to walk.

Just like Xindi, the Ken’dar delegate pulled out a holographic projector and activated it. To Xindi’s surprise the footage shown was the exact same he had just played to the delegates.

“This footage,” the delegate said as the feed of the soldiers kicking in doors played, “was taken during a raid of a suspected Drenari resistance cell that was responsible for twelve bombings; many of them civilian targets of those that supported our occupation.”

Moving along the images showed the same soldier kicking in the door, but this time the sounds of screaming women and children were oddly not present. Instead, there were the angry shouts of man Drenari before the soldier opened fire again. “As you will have noticed, this is the original audio from the raid; not the manufactured material that my Drenari opposite has played for you all.”

“That is a lie!” Xindi shouted as he stood to his feet. Before he could say another word the speaker struck his staff again and Xindi fell silent.

“The Drenari delegation will remain silent.” The speaker announced. “You were allowed to speak uninterrupted; you will provide the same curtsey to the Ken’dar.”

Xindi gritted his teeth and returned to his seat. “My thanks to you, honored speaker.” The Ken’dar delegate spoke before resuming the feed. It switched to the Drenari being lined up and executed.

“What you see here is indeed as it seems.” The Drenari said, much to the surprise of everyone. “We have recently learned of this incident were one of our officers went against military orders and began executing civilians.”

More murmurs as the Ken’dar delegate continued. “Once our military was made aware of this horrible outrage, the commanding officer was immediately arrested and will be brought up on charges of war crimes.”

Xidni observed the gathered humans. Some nodded in agreement; others looked unconvinced, and many remained neutral and allowed the Ken’dar to finish.

“I am sure many of you today view the Drenari as the victims of this sudden and seemingly unprovoked act of aggression; yet they have carefully forgotten to inform you of what truly drove us to this conflict.”

“Delegate Xindi makes special mention to the last month, and yet he fails to mention that within the last year his people have conducted numerous raids on our shipping lanes in open acts of piracy.”

This time the projector shifted to show what appeared to be an exterior camera feed on a Ken’dari freighter. Several bright flashes shot past the camera before it turned to show a fast approaching vessel bearing down on it. As it drew closer the design could clearly be seen and it was of Drenari design.

Firing another volley, the freighter took a few hits and multiple cargo containers were blasted off the ship. The freighter began to trail a thick trail of smoke before the feed went black and terminated.

“That ship was the “Comoto” and was carrying food stuffs to Milon III that was experiencing a food shortage.” The Ken’dar finished. “It was destroyed enroute and the death toll on the planet skyrocketed.” With that the holographic projector shut down and the light was focused on the Ken’dar delegate as he gave his final statements.

“What my Drenari opposite will call “senseless violence”, is actually the result of countless unprovoked strikes against the Ken’darian people by their own forces; and now that we have finally stood up and said enough is enough they have come before you crying foul.”

“We ask you to not to be swept up in a wave of misguided emotion and join us instead to put an end to Drenari threat once and for all.”

Xindi had heard all he could stand and rose to his feet to denounce the Ken’darian when the speaker took the podium once more.

“We thank both delegations for their petitions and information that has been laid before us.”

The speaker pointed his staff towards a set of doors at the end of the hall which slowly opened to the outside waiting area. “You will wait outside until we have finished our discussions. Please take care that we will not end this session until a resolution has been reached.”

Human guards ushered the two alien delegations outside and Xindi watched as the chamber doors closed behind them. --------------------

Several hours passed before the doors opened once more and the delegations were allowed back in. Both groups were led to the center of the great hall once more were the speaker resided.

“After going over the details from both parties and examining the information each has provided before the hearings began, we have decided...”the speaker paused for dramatic effect as the tension in the room built up, “that we shall reject both proposals.”

“What?!” both delegations let out at once.

“It is the determination of the senate, that both delegations have provided altered facts to suit their own needs rendering any information you provide us questionable and unreliable.”

“But-“ Xindi began before the speaker banged their staff three times to interrupt him.

“We will continue with new fact finding missions, but we will not send our forces to aide a cause that has misled us.”

With that the senate doors opened once more and the senators shuffled out signaling the end of the special session. Both alien delegations stood dumbfounded at this turn of events; unable to grasp the outcome they had just been dealt.

Both had been so sure of themselves that they could manipulate humans into helping them by preying on their nature, and yet each one had been outdone by the very nature they sought to control.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

October 2023 WOTM: peonierose

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @peonierose. We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: peonierose Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Peonie or PR is fine 🥰

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

Way back when Choices first launched. My first book was The Freshman Series - book 1. It was so fun to play the books and get super excited for new chapters. I was waiting until midnight for new chapters. It was the first time I’ve played an app where I could make decisions and use diamonds for VIP scenes 😍

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the Choices fandom back in 2021. I really missed Open Heart after book 3 ended (and left me wanting more) So I wanted to see if there were any more stories I could binge, and that’s how I stumbled upon Tumblr 🥰

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

It may sound weird but it just came to me. Peonies are my favorite flowers. As soon as I thought peonie I quickly added rose and I was like that sounds so cool and it’s unique which I love 😍 And that’s how peonierose was born. 

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

Gosh. This feels like forever ago. When I first came on tumblr I didn’t post or reblog much 😅 (too shy to interact with anyone 🙈)

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

It has been 2 years in August this year since I’ve actively started writing fanfic 🥰 (I still can’t believe I actually made the leap and decided to post any of my stories). 

6- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

You’re really going to make me choose? There are so many good ones 😱

I love to write for two of my favorite books which are Nightbound and Open Heart. Those are the ones I feel most connected to 🥰 Though I’d love to venture out and make edits or social media posts for other choices books too. 

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

I wrote Robin‘s Tell-All from TNA, and it was the first fic I’ve ever shared. I really wanted to write a story from Robin‘s POV and how all that happened in TNA affected him and all the mistakes he made. 

I wanted to showcase his inner struggle. 

I remember how nervous I was to post something that I’d written. I thought to myself, will people even like my story? And if they do like it, then what? It was a great rush to see the reblogs, and the love for my first-ever posted fic. 

If I could change one thing, it would probably be the moodboard 😅

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

That is a tough question, because to me every fic I‘ve written has a special place in my heart. So every story reflects the feelings I’ve felt while writing my story. 

Buuuuut if I had to choose: It would be a tie between By a Landslide (Bryce and Luna), the 3rd chapter of my Nightbound series - Unexpected and Go with the Flow (Luna & Bryce) 

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

I actually didn’t think I’m a sucker for you, A Pinch of Pink and Blue…This one‘s for you,  Cinnamon Sugar and Wildflower, to be as well received as they did. 

However, I think Bittersweet Symphony and Losing Game (1 / 4) could use some more love. 

Both stories are amazing and I think you’ll love both my pairings. Luna & Bryce and of course Maxine and Adam. 

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

I am by no means a smut writer 😅 Maybe I’ll get there 😅 But I’d go with a mix between angst and fluff. I think a nice balance between these two would be good. 

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yeah. Tons of times. Take Luna for example. She has anxiety like me, and her appearance, such as her blue-green eyes and dark blonde hair, are like mine. But character wise we’re complete opposites. I wish I’d be more artistic like her 🩷

And Bryce is an Aries like me, and so many things he says or does make me go back, and I’m like, yeah, I would say something like that. Other than that, I’ve learned to give my characters real flaws and make them human, if that makes sense. But it does happen that they end up with character traits that are mine, and then I lean back and realize I’ve given my characters some of my weird and quirky character traits 🤣

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Damn. Umm…I struggle with a lot of things. Finding the right words sometimes because English isn’t my first, not even my second language. I speak six languages, so it's sometimes hard to find the words to describe things. 

Showing, not telling that’s another thing I struggle with. 

That and if I have to keep a deadline to post something 🤣 Because it takes me forever to post anything I’m not 100% behind and happy with. 

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

How much time you’ve got? I have over 30 wips, that want some desperate attention, and I always keep adding new wips, whenever something inspires me to write 😅 

I’ve found some new inspo for Somewhere Only We Know 🥰 Apart from that I’d love to take another look at my two AU‘s Amber & my Nightbound series. So we’ll see what wips I can manage to finish 😅 

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first? 

Sure. I’d love to get an outside opinion of my work and my characters that are so beloved and close to my heart 🩷

I actually tell people that I write fanfic and original work. And I’ve sent some samples their way and they liked it. Which makes me feel more confident in my writing (not saying it’s perfect, there’s always room for improvement, but it’s getting better). 

As for which story to start? I’d say start with Only Love for Bryce and Luna. That was my first story of them and I consider it their start. 

Then continue with Always & Forever and Go with the Flow. 

Those were my first posted stories about Luna & Bryce and I think you’ll like them. It would give you a good understanding of my storytelling and my characters. 

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing? 

There are a couple of authors I admire - Chloe Neil, Elise Kova, Nalini Singh, Rachel Caine (R.I.), Rebecca Yarros, and many more. They have influenced and shaped my writing, my fantasy world-building, and, of course building my characters. These authors know how to tell great stories, which makes me admire them so much. 

As for fanfic writers who’ve inspired me? I’d love to give a special shoutout to one of my closest friends who’s been my beta reader for almost anything @annieruok She’s an amazing person and writer. Thanks so much for all the times listening to my ramblings about scenes and characters 🩷 

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

My Nightbound series hands down. That is a story that really deserves to be on the big screen or as a Netflix show. I’m not picky. 

I’d love to see Grey, Gretel and Hänsel kick some ass. It’s a unique enough story to garner some attention 🥰 I’ve worked really hard to write it and it took me a year to come up with chapters, character names and so forth. 

Also Somewhere Only We Know would be cool to see on the big screen. I’d probably weep from joy if any of my stories were ever developed as a movie or series 🥰🥹

17- Do you write original fiction? 

Yes, I actually do. I have several original works in my Google docs. And just recently, I had an idea for another original story (I don’t feel comfortable sharing it yet) 🥰 But let’s just say it’s fun to come up with the characters and world-building and everything in between. 

18 -  What other hobbies do you have?

Reading books, trying out new recipes in the kitchen. This also reminds me I need to exercise more 🤣 

Taking walks & going shopping. 

Hanging out with friends and binge watching shows and movies on Disney+ and Netflix. Just trying to  enjoy every single moment that every day has to offer 🩷 

19 - What’s your favorite emoji? 

It’s a toss between these three 🥰😍🩷 (What can I say I love pink 🩷 not just because of the new Barbie movie and the pinkmania 🩷) 

20: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

First, I wanted to say thank you to everyone. For being picked as writer of the month is a huge honor 🥰 Thank you to everyone who has ever taken the time to read my stories, reblog them, and leave some unbelievably nice words. 

I’m very grateful that you guys took the time to shower me with love. Sometimes, I wonder what I did to deserve some of your nice words and love. I also wanted to give a special shoutout to some of the people who are very dear to me. 🩷 

Thank you guys for supporting me. Being there for me - through great and not so great times - I‘ll never be able repay your kindness 🩷 You guys make me strive to be a better version of myself and I couldn’t be more happy to call you my friends 🩷

@annieru0k @cariantha @txem @doriopenheart @mysticalgalaxy @aallotarenunelma @inlocusmads @heavenssexiestangel @socalwriterbee @secretaryunpaid @ofmischiefandmedicine @starrystarrytrouble @the-pale-goddess @takemyopenheart @quixoticdreamer16 @princess-geek @eleanorbloom

[is-the-primate-vid-cute]

hi! this is not meant to be doubtful about Neuralink’s unethical treatment of primates because it’s horrible either way, but are there any sources on the number being in the thousands? everything i can find says there have been around 20 that were tested on. it’s a disgusting useless thing no animal should suffer for but it seems that number has been inflated.

Thank you for sending this! As it happens upon double checking, the article stating numbers in the thousands as well as the 98% death rate was faked. This is my bad and I should have checked more carefully to ensure I was upholding our commitment to accuracy.

The actual story is more complex, with both Neuralink and the university carrying out the testing claiming that animal welfare and ethics standards are being firmly upheld. However, in the statement released Neuralink stated "two animals were euthanized at planned end dates to gather important histological data, and six animals were euthanized at the medical advice of the veterinary staff at UC Davis.”

There is currently an ongoing investigation and lawsuit against Neuralink for animal cruelty. This article which cites testimonials from former Neuralink employees and lab workers that expressed concern internally over aspects of the experiments, but their concerns were dismissed in order to meet deadlines. From Reuters:

"Five people who’ve worked on Neuralink’s animal experiments told Reuters they had raised concerns internally. They said they had advocated for a more traditional testing approach, in which researchers would test one element at a time in an animal study and draw relevant conclusions before moving on to more animal tests. Instead, these people said, Neuralink launches tests in quick succession before fixing issues in earlier tests or drawing complete conclusions. The result: More animals overall are tested and killed, in part because the approach leads to repeated tests.

One former employee who asked management several years ago for more deliberate testing was told by a senior executive it wasn’t possible given Musk’s demands for speed, the employee said. Two people told Reuters they left the company over concerns about animal research."

The Reuters article estimates that the total number of animals killed (not just monkeys) is in the neighbourhood of 1,500, but it is impossible to know an exact number due to records not being kept indicating every individual.

Musk purportedly did not want to cause suffering in animals and built the monkey facility to be a "monkey Taj Mahal", prioritizing quality of life. This goal is admirable and even potentially achievable for someone with as much money as Musk, but the haste to begin human trials have resulted in rushed experiments where unecessary suffering occurs.

Competitors such as Synchron have managed results similar to Musks goal with far fewer animal deaths. Synchron received clearance to begin human trials in 2021, and their implant has allowed paralyzed people to type without moving.

TL;DR: the previous post on Neuralink was inaccurate, Musk had good intentions and even a potentially good set up for animal welfare but ended up causing unecessary animal suffering due to rush demands to get results so clearance for human trials could be obtained.

[tamurilofrivendell]

Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 10

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9]  Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the ‘lost’ daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Taglist: @hufflepuff1700​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jinlizz-dragondrama​​​​​​​​​​​​ @firelightinferno​​​​​​​​​​​​ @bubbleyukismile @coopsgirl​​​​​​​​​​​​ @achromaticerebus​​​​​​​​​​​ @sleepyamygdala​​​​​​​​​​​   @smalltownbigheart​​​​​​​​​​ @qmabailor​​​​​​​​​ @genderfluid-anime-goth​

The very next morning, Radagast sat down at his wobbly desk, quill in hand, and scribbled out a letter to be sent to the Elvenking’s Halls. He had suffered a very sleepless night, going over and over in his head what he could possibly say, how he could explain it. All he knew was that he could no longer afford to wait. Now that the Enchantress had made contact with you (and he knew that she had, despite your denial of there having been anybody else in that clearing) Radagast could not waste a single second.

He could not keep you here in his cottage any longer. He could not shield you properly, in the way that would be necessary. The Enchantress may very well launch an attack upon him and he would rather that you were safely out of the way. Inside Thranduil’s Halls would be the best place for you, for a time at least. The Enchantress would not be able to penetrate their defences. Radagast knew that Thranduil would not let her.

Yes, you would be quite safe there, though moving you to the Halls would mean that he would have to tell you everything. He would have to shatter the only world you had ever known. He was loath to do it. He was so very fond of you and he did not wish to hurt you. However, there was nothing else that he could do, not like this, not without help.

So, after much hesitation and scratching out of words, Radagast placed his letter safely into the claws of a raven and sent the bird winging its way to the Woodland Realm, where it was received and taken to the king.

To Thranduil Oropherion, Elvenking. From the hand of Radagast the Brown. It is with deep regret that I must inform you of a very large secret which I have kept from you. The keeping of this secret was not done to slight you. In truth, it had nothing at all to do with you and everything to do with the safety of the one that I was sworn to protect. The daughter of Gil-Galad lives, Thranduil. She dwells within this very forest and has for many years, under my strict supervision and care. The High King begged me to keep her hidden from the Enchantress to save her precious life and, until very recently, I had managed to do so. With the Enchantress now prowling beneath these trees, I fear time has run out and the Princess is in grave danger. The Enchantress has come too near and I can no longer protect her as I once could.

I write to you seeking sanctuary for her within your halls. Please respond with all haste.

When it fell into his hands, Thranduil read the letter and immediately began to fill with rage. The little girl had survived? She lived? All these years, he had been led to believe that she had died. No... no, not led to believe. He had seen her die! Witnessed it with his own eyes!

What was the meaning of this? Nothing made sense!

If she was alive, then that meant the curse was still in effect. It meant that perhaps this was the reason the Enchantress had come here, had darkened his forest with her presence. He had asked Radagast point blank if he knew why she had come... and the damned wizard had told him that he did not.

Thranduil paced angrily around his office like an unsettled wolf until he finally forced himself to sit down and respond, glaring at the paper the entire time.

To the Wizard Radagast. From the hand of Thranduil O, Elvenking of the Woodland Realm. I fear you must have hit your head upon a low-hanging tree trunk on the journey home! For the last time I saw you, you said nothing of this despite the topic of conversation which we were engaged in.

Even before this, ever since that witch set foot in my forest, you have said nothing many times over if I recall correctly - and I am not in the habit of doing otherwise. This girl you speak of. How am I to know she is truly the princess? I witnessed that elfling die as I witnessed hers and my own mother meet the same fate. Do not come to me now seeking aid, for I do not house nor have the patience for liars.

Radagast had not expected this to be easy.

Truthfully, he had expected Thranduil’s response to be littered with much more anger than it actually was, so he supposed that was a small mercy. Though he had no doubt that the Elvenking was angry enough and was just keeping it all close to his chest, silently seething as was sometimes his way.

Radagast lifted his head and watched you pottering around the kitchen for a while, a deep sadness in his heart, before he picked up his quill and scratched together a messy reply.

Unaware of any of this, you continued to pad around the little cottage, seeing to your chores and thinking about Thranduil, wondering when he would next travel this way. Radagast had been keeping quite a tight leash on you the last day or so and you were quite frustrated, though at least the birds and beasts came and visited you here.

My lord, I understand your anger and your hesitation. The events of the past still affect us all and you witnessed so much that day that it does not surprise me that it brings out unsavoury emotions. Regardless, I implore you to put aside your grievance with me and think of the poor girl. This is not her fault. Should she pay for the mistakes of others? In all truth, she has no idea at all as to who she truly is. She does not know who her father was or what happened that day. I have told her absolutely nothing about any of it so as to keep her safe.

This had raised Thranduil’s eyebrows indeed, because he had not expected that the princess would not have any idea as to her heritage. Her past, her parents, her history. The history they shared in a way.

How the wizard had hidden her away all these years also surprised him. Thranduil had passed that cottage many a time, had sought brief counsel from the man even, and not a whisper or an inkling that anybody else resided there had ever crossed his mind. He wondered if the wizard had perhaps placed some sort of spell upon her.

Then again, he supposed that if you could live without being discovered in his forest, then perhaps he was not quite as attuned to every little going on beneath the trees as he might like to think that he was. Thranduil did not yet connect you and this princess as being the same, for he knew the princesses true name and it was not Lothíriel.

I am unsure how to proceed.

The wizard sighed as he looked down at the one word answer he received from the Woodland Realm that morning. This was taking too long and Thranduil was too stubborn.

Radagast glanced out of the window he was sitting beside, watching you laugh with the birds in the garden. Your life was so important, he thought, and you were too precious a soul to be lost... especially after all the years he had spent raising you, almost as if you were his very own.

He turned back, nodding to himself. He had to keep pushing. In fact, he had to push harder. So, picking up his quill again, he scratched out his own one word reply to Thranduil and sent it winging its way through the forest with his trusted raven.

I beg of you to help her as your father would have wanted - as your mother would have wanted.

This had, of course, sent Thranduil into a mighty anger.

Feren had come running through to the room at the sound of a chalice shattering against the wall.

Thranduil turned to look at him, gritting his teeth. “That damned wizard!” He cried, throwing the letter to his desk and rolling his eyes. “Arrange a reply. Tell him I will do as he wishes.” Thranduil told Feren even as he was sweeping past him to storm off down the hallway and out to the stables.

He needed air.

[zablife]

Wounding Words

Alfie Solomons x wife reader

Summary: You overhear Alfie talking about gypsy scum with Darby Sabini and it hits a nerve, sparking a fight between you and your husband. 

Author’s Note: This is a combination of two requests I received for Alfie. The first was a request for Alfie and the reader getting into an argument over something Alfie has done. The second request was to make the reader a Birmingham gypsy who feels betrayed by his conversation with Sabini. She confronts Alfie about his hurtful language before ending in fluff. 

Warnings: language, ethnic slurs 

“You have to admit, they’re out of control, Alfie. Now, you and me, we been friends since school. How much better is it when we’re friends?” Sabini asked clearly expecting confirmation of the fact.

“Oh, much better, yeah,” Alfie quickly replied. 

“Well, we need to discuss the future of our partnership then,” Darby said plainly.

“Alright, talk... I genuinely want to hear you,” Alfie replied calmly in a way you recognized as his tone for appeasing people. However, Sabini must have taken this as a sign of indifference and quickly launched into a livid tirade.  

“You fucking invite a tribe of savages into the city and unlock the fucking gates and that’s all you have to say?” he yelled. You could practically hear the spit flying from his mouth with the intensity of his hatred. 

No one in the room spoke for a long moment. Then you heard Alfie clear his throat, breaking the silence. Sabini raised his voice once more with a demand, “What do you plan to do about it?”

You pushed your body against the rough surface of the wooden door to hear them better without being seen by Alfie’s men. You were too curious to walk away at that point, intent on finding out who they were discussing. Nothing prepared you for what you heard come out of Alfie’s mouth next, however.  

“Yeah, I admit, these gypsies are a problem. A fucking plague more like it. Came down the canal and spread like the fucking clap they did,” you heard Alfie affirm. You stood completely still, unable to breathe at the hateful language you heard him using. Was this really how he felt about gypsies….about you?

“So you agree, we need to rid the city of this gypsy scum?” Darby said sounding less angry with Alfie now in agreement. 

“Let’s clean out the pikeys, mate,” Alfie said sounding determined. 

That was all you needed to hear, pulling back from the door where you had been eavesdropping to cover your mouth in shock. You might have cried right there if it weren’t for the men on the floor. You never showed emotion in front of them for fear you’d lose their respect. 

You threw your apron at Ollie as soon as he made his way out of the meeting. “Are you alright, y/n?” You didn’t answer, turning on your heel to rush out of the bakery.  “What should I tell Alfie? He’ll want to know where you’ve gone,” Ollie called after you.

“Tell him this gypsy is going back up the canal where she belongs,” you called out over your shoulder, voice beginning to break. 

“Y/n….Wait! I don’t understand?” Ollie said scratching his head in confusion. It was all he could do to keep his own wife happy much less keep track of your wants and whims. He decided to let you leave, hoping your strange mood would lift and you’d come back soon. 

As the day wore on you stayed true to your word, digging out an old suitcase and tossing it on the bed with a bounce. If Alfie really felt that way about you and your kin, you didn’t want to be married and have children after all. He had never spoken with such vitriol and you wondered if you knew him at all.

When Alfie realized you were gone he had given you time to return, thinking you were taking a long lunch break. The later it got, the more worried he became. Unable to continue working with your well-being on his mind, Alfie headed home. 

Upon his arrival, you didn’t answer his calls for you. However, he did hear a loud commotion coming from the bedroom of doors banging and dresser drawers being opened and slammed shut. It sounded as though you were ripping the house apart and he climbed the steps two at a time to get to you.

“What are you doing, pet?” Alfie asked walking into your whirlwind of activity, watching as dresses and stockings flew all around you.

“What the fuck does it look like, Alf?” You replied in anger, stuffing shoes into your suitcase haphazardly.

“Well I can see you’re packing innit, but you want to tell me why?” He asked studying you with a furrowed brow. 

“As if you don’t know…” you said temper flaring. Without thinking, you turned quickly and tossed a shoe at his head.

He ducked in the nick of time, but struggled to rise back up from the floor. He groaned out in pain with a hand to his back.

Holding one hand up in defeat he implored, “Pet, you’re gonna have to call a cease fire and help me up because my back has gone out,” he informed you with a groan.

Your anger subsided, afraid you’d actually hurt him. “Alfie, are you alright?” you asked sheepishly. You hadn't meant for things to escalate like this. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you said coming to your senses and rushing to help him.

You struggled under his weight getting him to the armchair in the corner of your bedroom. After the exertion, the fight had left you and you confessed, “It was your meeting with Sabini today that started it.”

Alfie sat back in the chair and scratched his beard trying to recall what had been said. Darby was full of hot air and he had already forgotten most of their conversation in order to have a pleasant evening with you.

Before you could allow yourself to get worked up over his ineptitude, you reminded him of his words. “How could you sit there and say nothing while he spoke those hateful epithets? And worse, you agreed with him!”

He raised a finger in the air as he suddenly recalled. “Ah, you mean the gypo stuff?” he said tactlessly, not actually meaning any offense. His comments to Darby hadn’t meant anything to him. He was only trying to finish the meeting by agreeing with the unpleasant little man. Looking at your hurt expression he could tell he had made a grave error though.

“Is that how you really feel, Alfie? Because if so it’s going to be a problem being married to a gypsy, you know,” you said with watery eyes. 

At the sight of your tears, Alfie pulled you onto his lap with another wince of pain. He turned your chin toward him gently to look you in the eye sincerely.

“Course I don’t, pet. I love everything about you. What you witnessed today is called a bluff, right? Cause I’m a strategist,” Alfie said tapping a finger to his temple.

“So it was all just lies? You sure you aren't playing for their side?” You said hesitantly, wanting to believe him. 

He sucked in a breath before asking, “What kind of world is it to bring up children when your own missus can ask you a question like that?” A playful smile danced across his lips before he turned serious again. “I am truly sorry though. Do you forgive me for hurtin’ ya, pet?” He asked scared the fight might not be over. When you didn’t immediately yell at him, he took that as a positive sign.

Alfie leaned in for a kiss to be sure, but you pulled away. “That depends on whether or not you’re going to make babka as an apology?” you said donning a mock serious expression.

“If that’s all it takes to get back in your good graces, darlin', gladly,” he said running a hand through your hair. You closed the gap between you and gave him a long, passionate kiss thankful for a distraction that would keep you from picking up the clothes strewn all over the floor. “And no more “gypo” stuff, yeah?” You asked. “I swear, dove,” he said looking at you with nothing but love and adoration. 

-----------------------------------------------------

Tag list: @julyzaa, @tommydoesntpayforsuits @shelbydelrey, @alanadetigy, @wandawiccan60, @solomons-finest-rum, @theshelbyslimited

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 36

Chapter 1     Chapter 35

The sound of the alarm rang through the visiting room, disrupting the inhabitants’ already fitful rest.  Groans and scuffles from the majority of the people sounded throughout the room, but Conner jumped up immediately, his head whipped around for the source of the alarm. His body immediately, naturally eased into a defensive stance while straining his super hearing, trying to figure out if it was in their room, Adrien’s room, or Roy’s apartment, which he was also trying to keep a watch on.

Bruce joined him just a few beats slower, jumping up and scanning the room with an intense gaze, brain immediately launching into action to isolate the source of the Code Red that awoke him, heart pounding in his chest at the thought that it might be Marinette’s room.  He quickly furrowed his brow and when he could no longer hear the noise, his brain still running too slowly to process what was happening despite the massive surge of adrenaline flowing through his system. Surely, a code red doesn’t just shut off so quickly.

His entire body lurched when the noise sounded again and realization hit a second later, allowing the rigidity to ease out of his frame.  He groaned deeply and dragged his hand down his face, before clumsily grabbing his phone with one hand and massaging the kink in his neck with the other.  The rigidity that had just left his muscles rapidly returned upon seeing the name on his screen.  He mentally cursed.  He was definitely not awake enough for this conversation.  “Sabine, good morning,” he offered, his voice still gruff with sleep.

“Good morning, Bruce… how are you doing this morning?”

The saccharine tone in her voice immediately set him on edge. “Exhausted,” he admitted cautiously. He quickly scanned the room for anything out of the ordinary with a bit more care than the first time.  “Been up all night working with police and waiting for an update, which I have not received yet.  You?”

She chuckled mirthlessly.  “Rather stressed myself, actually.  I haven’t heard a word in hours, Bruce.  This is a bit more severe than just breaking an arm.  I need to know what is going on.”

“I’m sorry, Sabine,” he sighed heavily, his hand resuming his neck massage as he tried to work the kink out.  He was getting too old to sleep in chairs like the ones he’d spent the night in. Probably too old to continue to be Batman as well, but that was not the point at that moment.  “I don’t have any news to give you.  We don’t know more than when we last spoke and even that was just what Alfred was able to uncover.  We haven’t even seen a doctor yet.  We’ve been letting Marinette rest and Adrien is still building up strength.”

Damian pursed his lips and looked away from him, accidentally meeting Chloe’s amused eyes.  He shot her a glare and returned his eyes to his father with a huff.

Sabine was quiet for a few moments before finally blowing out a reluctant breath. “That’s good, I suppose.  I have a few questions, but first, I was hoping you would please tell me where exactly our child is resting.”

“Just down the hall from us here at the hospital,” he answered confidently.  “Did you need the room number?”

“No Bruce dear, I know where Adrien is and I have a lot of questions about him, since the front desk won’t tell me anything other than he is, in fact, there.  I meant my child who isn't in the hospital.  Our child.”

Bruce froze, his hand mid neck massage and his eyes darting to the doorway suspiciously.  “Yes, she is,” he forced out slowly.  “I'm right outside her door.  Well, down the hall from her door, anyway.  We have been all night.  She hasn’t been moved.”

“No, she isn’t,” Sabine repeated just as slowly, but with significantly more confidence.  “They refused to give me Adrien’s room number because I’m not his legal guardian, but they were able to tell me they have no record of Marinette Dupain Cheng or Marinette Wayne.  I thought I’d check both names just in case, because I couldn’t imagine why she would be somewhere else and you wouldn’t have told me.”  Her voice gained a cold edge before continuing, the next words coming out harsh and clear.  “So, I’ll ask again.  Bruce, dear, where is my daughter?”

Bruce dragged his eyes from the doors to Chloe, Max, and Conner, his eyes narrowing as they moved until they settled on them in a cold accusatory glare through nothing more than slits.  “I was told she was here,” he growled.  Dick and Damian stood quickly to join him in his glare.

Chloe raised an unimpressed eyebrow and shifted slightly in her seat, out of her more comfortable dozing position, to face him better.  “I merely said Marinette was sleeping and I wasn't going to let you bother her,” she shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance.

“You said, ‘Marinette is in there’,” Dick hissed, motioning harshly toward the doors.

Chloe cocked her head to the side and pretended to think, her perfectly manicured finger tapping her chin lightly.  “That doesn’t sound like me…” she pointedly ignored Max’s scoff.  “Dupain Cheng would not approve of lying, especially when talking about her.  I believe what I said was that Dupain Cheng was in there.  I never said Marinette was.”

“Who did you mean then?” Dick cut in is ice cold and scathing.

Chloe opened her eyes wide info in faux innocence.  “Adrien, of course.  He hates his last name.  None of us refer to him by his old last name.  He’s essentially Marinette’s sibling anyway, so we all call him Dupain Cheng. What?  You didn't know?  Surely whatever background check you ran on him showed he was in the process of changing his name.”

Markov’s display switched to a furrowed brow, and he bobbed forward, but before he could comment on the inaccuracy of her statement, Max reached up and pulled him back with a quick shake of his head.  For the first time, he didn’t believe facts were an asset. He finally understood Chloe’s philosophy; some conversations were better with fewer facts and more emotions.

“You lied,” Damien growled at her, a flash of something that almost looked like hurt appeared in his eyes so quickly it was almost like it never happened.  

"Told you,” Chloe jerked forward in her seat and pointed to her chest, letting her nail dig into her clothes slightly, “bitch who protects her family. And I might not be blood, but they’re still my family.  We chose each other.  We wanted each other.  We protect each other.  And you all can fuck off."

“She hasn’t been here all night!” Bruce roared.

“Obviously,” Chloe scoffed as she examined her nails, unimpressed and unthreatened.

“You knew,” Dick hissed at Conner, betrayal and fury clear in his tone and stance.

Conner shrugged and kicked his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles as he brought his arms behind him, not remotely remorseful at the accusation. “Nobody asked me.  I tried to tell you that you should go home, there was no reason for you to stay, but nobody would listen to me.  So don’t come at me.  I’m just here for my boyfriend, not your family drama.”  He paused and blinked a few times as the words hit him. His arms quickly dropped as he stood up straight.  “Kind of boyfr… we haven’t defined… Adrien,” he amended quietly, his gaze drifting to the floor.

Sabine cleared her throat loud enough to grab the attention of everyone in the room even without being broadcast.  “Bruce, dear, could you put me on speaker, please?”

Bruce’s lips pressed together so tightly his lips turned into a barely visible white line, but he obliged with an aggressive punch of his finger. “Done,” he barked, hostility clear in his voice.

“Thank you, Bruce.  First, young man who has an undefined relationship status with Adrien but has clearly been there all night, we’ll talk later.”

“We can discuss cake flavors!” a new voice boomed over the phone.  “Or will it depend on the time of year you get married?”  Conner looked over at Max and Chloe wide eyed, not at all feeling relieved by their snickering. Conner opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted.

“Oh, sweetie, it gets so much worse,” Chloe assured him with an unrepentant, saccharine smile.

Max glared at her quickly but turned back to Conner with a reassuring smile.  “They’re a lovely couple.  You’ll love them,” he added quietly.

“I know some people prefer richer flavors during the fall and winter and lighter flavors during the spring and summer…” the voice continued unperturbed.

“Not really the time, dear.  We can get to know him later,” Sabine’s voice cut in. “Chloe, sweetheart, there’s no need to lie to make your point.  Now, where is my daughter?”

“Good morning, Mdm. Cheng.” Chloe addressed the phone with a frighteningly polite, respectful tone that no Wayne had heard from her before.  “We sent her home to rest.  She was pretty exhausted.”

There was a moment of silence before Sabine sighed again.  “So, she’s in her home there?  And I still can’t get her on the phone because?  Isn’t her phone there and charging.  Surely, it’s fully charged by now.”

“She may have forgotten to turn it on,” Chloe answered quickly with a glance toward Bruce so quick it could easily be missed or dismissed as another glare.  “She was pretty dead on her feet, that’s why we forced her to leave, she may have forgotten.  Or it may still be off so she can sleep.”

Sabine let out a grunt of annoyance followed by a few more long breaths before speaking in a resigned tone.  “Yes, I suppose worrying about Adrien would be exhausting for her.  Thank you for making sure she got rest.  Next time please inform me of her location and make sure she turns on her phone.”

“Of course, Mdm. Cheng,” Chloe agreed immediately, relief clear in the easing of her shoulders, but short lived.

“It wasn't the worrying that exhausted her,” Bruce growled, ignoring the way Chloe scowled at him.  “She went after the rogue herself.”

“She what?” Sabine shrieked.

“And survived,” he continued with a hiss.  He walked to the far corner of the room for a semblance of privacy he was well aware he wasn’t going to receive. “You told me she couldn't fight,” he seethed, not bothering to hide the accusatory tone.

“She ca...” she started but stopped short with a long, resigned sigh.  “I suppose she didn't do it alone then?”

“So it would seem,” he agreed harshly.  Kon tried to ignore the way Chloe’s heart raced at the statement, but the look she was giving Max from the side of her eye was hard to ignore.  He raised an eyebrow at them but they were ignoring him, very intentionally so, if he knew how to read their strained muscles, and he usually did.  “So, you knew about her association then.  Why didn't you tell me?”

There was a pregnant pause that dropped the temperature a few degrees.  “I didn't realize having a superhero crush warranted a call but breaking her arm didn't,” she retorted.

“Of course it did,” Bruce groaned in frustration.  “They both did.  What do you mean cr…”

“That’s definitely not what I recall,” she cut in before he could finish.  “I recall getting snapped at that you had more important things to deal with at the time. I recall calling you every time something happened and getting brushed off.  I recall my updates only getting received on your schedule.”

Bruce groaned and dragged his hand down his face. There was nothing he could say to defend himself.  He knew it then and he knew it now.  Nothing had changed.  He almost flew to Paris the next day but had stayed home because Jason had been hurt and needed him.  And he couldn’t tell her the call came in the middle of foiling the Joker’s plan to blow up a chemical plant.  “But I called you back the next day to check on Marinette because it did matter.  I know I did because I always did.  I always called back as quickly as I could. There are things in my life I can’t just brush aside…”

“Marinette should be one of those things,” Chloe whisper hissed to Max, intentionally loud enough for her voice to carry across the room. Bruce let out a drawn-out breath, determined to ignore her, but Damian narrowed his eyes at her and growled. Chloe glowered right back but quickly relaxed her face, massaging the skin between her brows before it could wrinkle. Damian used every bit of self-control to force his body to turn away from her.  She was not the focus.  His father’s discussion of Marinette was.

“But, as I was saying,” Bruce gritted into the phone, “what do you mean crush?  It was more than a one-sided schoolgirl crush that got superheroes to cross an ocean help at a moment’s notice.”

Sabine scoffed.  “I never said it was her crush on him…”  She paused for a moment to let her words sink in.  “It might have started with her crushing on him, but that’s not how it ended.”  He could hear her smirk through the phone, which he did not at all appreciate at that particular moment.  “But, yes, it was more than a crush and it was more than just Chat.  It was the whole team really.”

“Excuse me!” he bellowed.  His voice echoed throughout the room, startling everyone from pretending they weren’t eavesdropping, other than Chloe who hadn’t bothered hiding it.

“They’ve made a point of helping Adrien and Marinette, during the fights and after.  I would call them friends.  Maybe something more.  All the heroes helped,” she clarified.

Bruce fought to process the words.  What the Hell had been happening while his back was turned?  He’d relied on Sabine to keep her safe.  To protect her.  And she’d allowed this association, these associations.  Multiple.  Each one capable of putting her in danger.  Each interaction threatening to drag her into their rogue’s focus.

His inner torment was abruptly interrupted by Sabine’s voice.  “What is your problem with this?  I was under the impression you had a rather close association with superheroes yourself.”

Dick froze and leaned back as casually as he could manage, flicking his eyes toward Chloe and Max to determine how much of the comment they were cataloging. The way Chloe narrowed her eyes fractionally and clicked her tongue was incredibly concerning as was the way Max flicked his eyes up to Markov who bobbed slightly closer to Bruce.

Bruce straightened to a dangerously rigid degree.  “It’s dangerous,” he barked out louder than he meant to, but didn’t feel remotely guilty for.  “They endangered her.”  He seethed in righteous indignation, starting to pace in anger.  “I am heavily guarded and can defend myself.  She is innocent and had no way to protect herself and they didn’t care.  They pulled her in without regard for her.  They only cared about themselves.  Who knows what could have happened because of them.”

It took a moment for Sabine to speak up.  Whereas Bruce’s voice had gotten louder and hotter in his anger, hers had gotten quieter and colder.  Each word was a knife’s edge, cutting unobstructed like slicing through water.  “Marinette got kidnapped a week ago because she is your daughter.  Adrien almost died because of her affiliation with your family and you're going to get mad at our heroes?”

“And I stayed away!  I recognized I was a danger to her and stayed away and I made sure she was protected when she was here,” he thundered, throwing his arms out in fury.  That was the entire reason he’d cut himself out of her life.  He’d lost her entire childhood to prevent exactly what happened as soon as they reconnected.  He’d suffered for twenty years, cut out a part of his soul for her, to keep her safe, and they’d just sauntered in and put her in the middle.  “They put her in danger and didn’t care.  They kept doing it.  They keep doing it.  They call themselves heroes.”

“They are heroes.  Heroes that saved Marinette and Adrien time and time again, physically and emotionally.  Heroes that took time to make sure Adrien was okay and not harassed after his father was taken down for crimes Adrien knew nothing about.  Heroes that stopped to make sure Marinette was smiling more times than I can count.  Heroes that put more time…”

“Supposed heroes that allowed my daughter…” Bruce cut in.

“Our daughter…” she corrected coldly.

“…to saunter into the den of one of the most deranged criminals in the world…” he continued without stopping to give her a chance to redirect his justified anger.

“And clearly kept her safe and saved Adrien while doing it,” Sabine argued pointedly, unwilling to give into him in any way.

“So they got lucky,” he dismissed with a grunt. He waved his hand like shooing away a fly.

“Well, that is Ladybug’s power,” she chuckled mirthlessly.

“She wasn’t there,” he insisted.

Dual scoffs sounded over the phone.  “Just because you didn’t see her doesn’t mean she wasn’t there.  There’s no way Marinette walked into danger and Chat wasn’t there watching over her. And where Chat is, Ladybug is,” Tom chided.

Bruce gaped at the new information, his mind reviewing the video they’d watched earlier in the night, scouring for any sign they’d missed, but there’d been no unexplained destruction or creation, no indication of other powers.  He’d have to review it again when they returned home, or ask Marinette when he found her.  His mind raced to reassess the situation with his new knowledge, trying to pin down how Ladybug and Chat’s presences changed their interpretation.

He tuned back in after a few moments, catching her mid-sentence.  “…don’t like it either, obviously.  I hate it. But I will not let you make them into the bad guys when they’ve never done anything but watch out for and protect our daughter.”  She paused for a few seconds, long enough that he almost started speaking again but she started before he could.  “And they are not the subject right now.  I couldn’t care less right now about the heroes.  What I want to know is how she got that far anyway?  I thought you said you were protecting her.  I can’t imagine letting her go somewhere without protection was part of your plan.”

“It wasn’t!” he insisted offended at the very idea he’d allow his daughter to get herself into danger.  “But she seems unable to stick to a well-defined plan.”  He ignored the loud, offended squawk that Chloe let out and the arm Max threw out to keep her in her seat.  “We were trying to keep her out of it.  She snuck out of a locked room.”

A weighted silence settled after a quiet intake of breath.  The air seemed to turn into ice, freezing everyone in their place, not even able to shift their gaze.  “You locked up my baby?” Tom implored with an eerie calm. His voice rang through the waiting room in a clear contrast to Bruce’s, crisp and demanding without being harsh.

“To protect her,” he clarified indignantly, seemingly the only one in the room who wasn’t heeding the warning tones in Tom’s voice.

“While Adrien was in danger!” Sabine demanded. Deep, drawn-out breaths could be heard for a few moments before.   “And how did she sneak out when you were with her?  Or did the Miraculous Team help with that as well?”

For the first time Bruce’s voice showed a hint of uncertainty.  “I… wasn’t.”

“You weren’t?  Who was?” her voice now repeating the eerie calm her husband had employed moments before.

“Nobody,” he admitted hesitantly.

“Excus…”

“We had someone coming to stay with her.  She wasn’t meant to be alone for long,” he cut in quickly in an attempt to stem the fury clearly building in her voice.

“Someone?  Where were you?  Her father. The one that was supposed to protect her.  The one that was so adamant about being there for her from now on.  Where the FUCK were you?”  Her voice echoed throughout the room, making even the eavesdroppers on the other side of the room shrink back except for Chloe.

“Yes!  Thank you!” Chloe exclaimed loudly, throwing her hands up in relief.  “Fucking finally.”

“Are you incapable of shutting up?” Damian barked. He lurched toward her, aching to continue their previous conversation at the same time Conner leaned in front of her, prepared for the moment Damian launched at her, but Dick held him in his seat, preventing the attack.

“Many akuma have tried,” Max shrugged tiredly. “Very few had succeeded.  I calculate a less than 5% probability of success on your part.”  Chloe glared at him, but it lacked the heat she had unleashed on the Waynes.  She eased back into her seat with a smug uptick to her lips.

“I’ve succeeded with lower odds,” Damian hissed.

Bruce continued with his argument, ignoring the children. “I was trying to save Adrien!  I was working my ass off to find him.  I was working with the police!  I was out there checking out leads.  We wanted to find him as quickly as possible for Marinette so she wouldn’t be so terrified.  We wanted to keep her out of it so she was protected and we could wrap it up quickly.”

Chloe quirked her head to the side at his phrasing. Her eyes slid over to Damian, her mind replaying the almost identical words he had used shortly before.  He was watching his father with rapt attention, almost desperate in his focus, like the outcome of the argument meant more to him than just whether his father was offended.  She scoffed at the proud look on Damian’s face as he nodded in agreement.

“Without her,” Sabine seethed.  “You froze her out… again.  You went and did what you wanted.  What you thought was best for her without asking her.  Without knowing her.”  The silence following her words was electric.  “You know what your problem is?

“You're insinuating there's only one?” Chloe scoffed.  She raised her voice to be heard while she batted away Max’s hand as he shoved her shoulder lightly, more a show than actual objection.

“I was under the impression I had more than one,” Conner agreed.  He determinedly ignored the betrayed glare Dick shot him and the growl Damian aimed at him.

“Beyond not being completely useless in the search,” Bruce asked bitterly.

“Yes, beyond that.  And beyond the whole egotistical, fear-driven, distant bastard thing,” she amended unabashedly.

“I thought that covered it fairly well,” Conner nodded.

“I didn’t,” Chloe scoffed.

“That’s more than one,” Bruce pointed out.

“You are uncompromising.  Which sounds better in theory than it is in practice.  You make these decisions and force them on other people without their input or consent. You refuse to adapt or give at all, no matter how it affects them.  You are so certain, with no evidence mind you, that you know better than everyone else.” Her voice dripped with distain as she addressed him.

She’d wanted him to make an effort, but she wasn’t convinced that was the right choice any longer.  Not if this was the result.  He couldn’t see Marinette.  Not really. He was too caught up in his head. She chuckled to herself bitterly. That was probably where Marinette got it from.  But where Marinette’s inability to get out of her head destructed herself, his was destructing those around him, in this case, Marinette.  They were so similar in so many ways.  That was the potential beauty and strength of their relationship. But it was also the potential devastation of it.  “It's going to bite you one of these days... more so than it already has.  You screwed up.”

She sighed deeply and for a moment it seemed like she was going to say something more, but Tom’s voice came through instead.  “I know you still look at her and see that bright-eyed baby looking up at you like you have all the answers and still needs you to do everything for her, but she's not a baby anymore.  Still bright-eyed, but no longer a baby.  And no longer dependent on you for everything.   You missed those years, Bruce.  You chose to.  She's an adult now.  One you don’t know.  One who can make her own decisions.  You need to learn to respect that, or you are going to lose her before you even have her. And believe me, Bruce, she is worth having in your life.”

The enthusiastic, hopeful tone of Tom’s message was quickly replaced by Sabine’s firm, cold, harsh tone.  “And in case I’ve been in anyway unclear up to this point, you are fucking this whole thing up.  If you do not change, the interactions you’ve had so far will be your last with her.”

“Right, I’m going to go check on my daughter,” Bruce growled, already halfway through the exit doors.  “Goodbye, Sabine.”  He hit the end call button before she had a chance to reply, decidedly ignoring the “Well that was rude,” that followed them out in a sarcastically feminine voice. He was not going to commit murder that night.  But at this rate, it may be soon and at present there were multiple potential targets.

His footsteps echoed through the hallways until he stormed through the hospital emergency doors, quickly making his way to his car.  “Why didn’t anyone know she wasn’t here!” Bruce barked into his com.

Alfred was quick to respond, his voice calm and detached.  “Oh, I must have forgotten to check her tracker… and the hospital records.”

Bruce took a few deep breaths before he was able to respond.  “I've only ever known you to forget things on purpose,” he gritted through clenched teeth.

“Very astute observation, sir,” Alfred acquiesced.

“Ms. Bourgeoise said she went home, but I do not trust her.  Turn the tracker on now and tell me where the Hell my daughter is, please,” he spat out the last word like it burned his mouth as he said it.

“The language is rather unnecessary, sir,” Alfred chastised.  His unimpressed tone coming through clearly and, as Bruce noted angrily, not over the sound of buttons being pushed rapidly on his end.

“It is beyond necessary!” he bellowed as he dropped into his car, barely waiting for Damian and Dick to join before shifting it into gear and pulling away in a random direction, the need to move overriding the logic of knowing which direction to move.

“My daughter is somewhere, unprotected after Black Mask tried to torture and kill her.  Which is what happened after the last time she snuck out.  So, you will have to forgive me if I’m not predisposed toward tranquility just right now.  Or don’t, currently I don’t fucking care.”

He turned so sharply Damian’s head knocked into the window with a loud thud.  Dick craned around to check on him.  He raised an eyebrow and nodded toward his head in silent question. Damian waved him off with a frown but continued to lightly rub his head.  He barely grabbed the grab handle in time to stop himself from being thrown across the backseat when Bruce took another sharp turn at full speed, his seatbelt not even enough to keep him in place.  He caught Dick bracing himself with his arms and feet and quickly emulated the position.

“She is a civilian.  She is untrained.  She is weakened.  And she is a target.”  Bruce’s voice raised with each point but never lost it’s dark, hard edge.  “Highly trained heroes have been beaten into comas they barely survived after getting taken.  Highly trained heroes have been tortured into madness after getting taken. Highly trained heroes have died after getting taken.” He paused a moment to let his words soak in, to let the memory of each devastating loss infiltrate each and every one of them so they could remember what he was trying to avoid, what haunted him at night.

“She doesn’t even have the training they had to defend herself.  She could have died!” he barked again, his voice straining at the edges.  “She could have died tonight, and we would have gotten there too late.  I will NOT bury another child.”  He lowered his voice to barely audible, yet still managed to sound more dangerous than his previous screaming.  “I need to know where my daughter is and I need to know now.  And Alfred, so help me, if something has happened to my daughter, I will fire you.”

There was an audible gasp in the car at his words. When Alfred finally spoke again, his words were as professional as ever but somehow colder than anything Bruce had ever said.  “I’ve been monitoring the situation, sir.  If she gets hurt today, it won’t be from taking a step back to rest away from drama and stress, which is surely what she would have encountered in the hospital.  Mr. Harper has taken her to his home to recuperate and Master Jason has been watching over them all night.  I also believe Mr. Kent has been keeping an ear out for her while he was waiting at the hospital.

“She is safe and protected.  I would never have allowed anything else,” he continued indignantly. “You are not the only one who realizes the stakes and cares for Miss Dupain Cheng.  There is more than one way to protect someone.  There is more than one way to keep them safe, sir.  She is safe,” he repeatedly resolutely yet with disappointment coming through enough to coat the entire car in it until Dick and Damian squirmed uncomfortably.  “And she is safe on her terms.”

“She had better be,” Bruce fumed, punching the accelerator.

Chapter 37

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[ambiguouspuzuma]

Spores

They didn't leave us enough time. It feels ridiculous to admit it, but we really thought the end of the world would come more slowly, or with more warning in advance. A meteor tumbling carelessly through space, its progress tracked a million miles away. The eruption of one of our own supervolcanoes, its bowels having been monitored for centuries. Even nuclear desolation would surely have come with some degree of political posturing first.

It came as spores. A smothering smog of space-dust, each particle too small for our scanners to detect, the total miasma too vast to escape. The mists were upon us before we knew it, drifting across the solar system like the tendrils of some toxic jellyfish, and their arrival caught us entirely unprepared. By then, it was too late to do anything but flee. In truth, it was too late for that as well.

We evacuated what we could, and launched those vessels that we had available. There was no time to build more: with warning, we could have constructed a refugee navy to seek asylum amongst the stars, a colossal ark of humanity, seeking a new Ararat upon some distant rocky sphere. We could have left in time to get clear, to change course, to lose the stormclouds to our stern, to sail onto horizons new.

There was no escape for those who fled the fog with only months left to spare. The spores were faster than our ships: we couldn't outpace them, only raise our shields, institute lockdown between vessels, and do our best to keep them out. We could only watch as they consumed Earth in our wake, and then hang endlessly adrift, their poison clinging to our hulls, awaiting our salvation.

We conserved our limited reserves of fuel, as if expecting they might fill a future need, but if so I couldn't name it. The engines had been primed to allow us to change our course, to enter the orbit of our destination, but that was no longer a possibility: we could not, would not be the vector to further spread this poison, but nor had we been given the choice. We'd passed potential targets for settlement, dwarf planets and giant moons, but all were tainted before we could reach them. The spores were ahead of us now. We were merely one cloud in their galactic storm.

It had been a failure of priorities. We had invested in weaponry, our ships equipped with radioactive rays and laser beams, prepared to ward off an alien host - but not focused enough on speed. In the case of fight or flight, we hadn't expected the latter to be an option - for a whole planet to need to flee, for that to be the better choice. But here was a problem we couldn't blast our way out of. Here was an enemy we could only have tried to escape, and all of those guns only served to weigh us down. If only we could go back in time, and make those choices differently.

"Ready the lasers," I called, struck suddenly with an idea.

"It does nothing to stop them," the second-mate replied, as if we hadn't all seen those initial, pathetic attempts. "Like a bolt of lightning through a cloud."

"Ready them still," I said. "We can't stop them, I know. But think of the number of lifeless planets which would have been consumed in this way, and the number of unsuspecting worlds that lie in this storm's path. We can't stop it happening to us, but we can try to stop this happening again."

We had looked ahead, when there was still a chance of seeking refuge, and found no welcoming planets in sight - but then we had realised that we were actually looking behind, into the distant past. Telescopes from distant civilisations might likewise train themselves on Earth and see no signs of life, receiving images from long before it became habitable. Who knew how the other barren rocks might have developed in that time? Waiting on the sluggish rays of their alien suns, who knew what they might look like now?

"What would you have us do?"

"We have to leave a warning. Deface the Earth, carved like a pumpkin into a pictograms, depicting what has happened to us. The nature of this threat. The spores travel fast, but not faster than light. If there is a future civilisation out there, looking back at us, they should see it before their turn arrives. They might have, or develop, the technology to do something about it. To save the universe, before it's all too late."

[dragonnwriter]

Inviolable Bindings

Aemondxfem!OC and Aegonxfem!OC

All Chapters Here!

Chapter 28

The hot water enveloped Viserra’s body as she sank down deep into the large tub. Her hips still carried a pleasant ache from the hands that had held onto her just moments earlier. The oils infused in the water carried the familiar scent of her distant home, evoking memories of the spacious soaking tubs she had enjoyed since she was young.

Her thoughts wandered to the land across the Narrow Sea, contemplating the lack of any response from the Triarchy regarding their request for support. She had also sent a letter to her father and had yet to receive word from him as well. Nonetheless, news of their endeavors would inevitably spread, and he would learn of their accomplishments as they happened. The anticipation of it all weighed heavily on her mind as she soaked in the warm water.

“Aemond,” she spoke, finally escaping her mind.

Turning, he looked to her, having also been deep within his own thoughts. He was sitting close by, his lithe form reclined delightfully in a chair. The sparkling of his eye that caught in the candlelight gave way that at some point he had also set aside his eyepatch.

“If you hear any word from my father, please let me know.” She tried to relay her words without too much emotion and leaned her head to rest on the back of the tub.

He regarded her with curiosity. “Do you worry about him?”

She shook her head, looking then to the ceiling. "I do not," she responded. "Though it is not unusual for us to go long periods without hearing from one another. It's just..." she paused, searching for the right words, "I would like for him to be aware of my doings here in Westeros."

“You still desire his approval.” Aemond stated bluntly.

Viserra's eyebrows furrowed at the accusation. "No, it is not that," she defended herself. "He deserves to know that letting me pave my own path was not for nothing. There were many who criticized the choices he let me make, stepping far from becoming a traditional woman, wife, and mother."

"As I said, you seek his validation," he reaffirmed, his opinion unwavering.

She sat up in the tub, her irritation obvious. "It's not about seeking approval," she reasoned. "I only wish for him to feel that he did not make a mistake with me. I do not expect you to understand that."

Aemond pursed his lips together and looked away. For a moment she was not sure that he would respond to a jab at his own upbringing. However, after a few seconds of tense silence, he turned back to her and replied.

“You are correct, I cannot comprehend the struggles of having a father who unconditionally supports his children," his words carried a trace of bitterness, which he hid well, "but these accomplishments you wish him to take pride in have not yet happened."

They locked eyes, both harboring a sting felt by the exchange. But before either of them could launch into another insult, a series of knocks sounded from the front door of the adjacent chamber.

“The girls will answer it eventually,” she insisted, still listening intently “That is if it is important enough to keep knocking.”

Another moment passed as it went unanswered before a second round of knocks began. Then came the obvious sound of the door being opened. Though she did not hear the chambermaids in the next room, Viserra had assumed it was one who had finally attended to it. Her assumption was disproven as she heard a voice that could not be mistaken for another.

“Viserra?” the voice called out as she closed her eyes and let out a realizing sigh.

Aemond remained in the chair but his previously relaxed demeanor was now laced with tension.

“In here,” she responded, bracing herself for the interaction that was about to take place.

The footsteps approached leisurely and soon Aegon emerged through the archway. His initial gaze fell upon Viserra in the tub, but his attention was promptly drawn to his brother seated in the chair.

“Aemond,” he said perplexedly, pausing to take in the scene in front of him before carrying on.

“Brother.” Aemond responded, his tone sharp.

Taking a deep breath before clearing his throat, Aegon looked back to Viserra.

“Did you get the chance to try out your new ensemble or have you been busy with other matters?’ He asked, the implication in his words were unmistakable.

Catching a quick glance at Aemond, she observed him as he watched his brother with a cautious eye. He seemed as if he might jump at even the slightest provocation. In contrast, Aegon skilfully ignored his presence, attempting to maintain a certain level of indifference towards him.

“We spent the entirety of the afternoon in the training yard,” she recalled, hoping that this would not turn into some degree of interrogation, “The weight and maneuverability of the armor will take some getting used to, but it is crafted extremely well.  I am glad I could trial it out before leaving on the morrow.”

“Excellent,” he nodded, looking once more to Aemond before quickly directing his eyes back to her.

It was clear that Aegon had come with a purpose greater than asking about her armor, but the tension that hung in the air seemed to tie off his lips. She thought a discussion would most likely go better if she were not sitting naked in a bath before the both of them.

Despite the overall tension, Viserra managed to find a bit of amusement from it all. She placed her hands on the side of the tub and pushed herself up to stand. Both brothers reached forward instinctually as if wanting to help her before the other did. However, the paralleled movements left them both uncertain how to proceed.

A series of glances were exchanged between the three of them and Viserra couldn’t hide the smirk teased at her lips. She did not know why she found humor in it all, but seeing both of them hesitating and uncertain about how to interact with her was quite entertaining.

Stepping from the tub, she turned her attention to the terry cloth folded neatly on the nearby stool. The soft fabric wicked the moisture away from her skin as she wrapped it around her body. It had been easy to ignore the chill of the air when she was submerged in the hot water, but now that she was out, it was unmistakably present.

When she looked back in the direction of the men, she saw that Aegon’s face had softened into a smile. In contrast, Aemond was now averting his eye, his eyebrows furrowed as he fought with himself to remain unruffled in this situation.

“Have you spoken with your Hand?” Viserra inquired, taking the initiative to start the discussion she assumed Aegon had come to have.

Aemond looked back in her direction but he did not make an effort to turn her way. The topic of battle plans clearly had peaked his attention but he did not yet choose to interject.

“Yes.” Aegon answered, following Viserra as she walked past him to fetch something to wear, “The last ship of sellswords arrived this morning giving us over two-thousand men. You will help lead, alongside the one-hundred knights that have prepared to fight.”

“Hm,” she hummed, her hands sorting through her wardrobe before settling on a plain chemise. “Alongside the men?” She questioned, knowing she did not enjoy spending time on horseback like a regular soldier.

“You would not have her patrolling the skies? Is that not half the reason behind bringing a dragon?” Aemond butted in, the irritation evident in his voice.

“She will be patrolling the skies periodically but the men can only move so fast on foot,” Aegon did not lose his composure to his brother’s temper.

“That is what we decided the dragonrider’s responsibility would be when discussing it in the council meetings,” she quimmed, discarding the towel from around her body. Neither of the men spoke until she had slipped into the new fabric and turned back to face them. “You would not have me tire my dragon before battle by flying in hundreds of pointless circles around the army.”

Aemond straightened his posture at her witty comment and she cocked her head to the side in anticipation of some sort of retaliation. However, he did not respond so she approached him to place a hand on his arm. The contact seemed to ease the tension some.

Without the support of a bodice, the chemise dipped low on her chest. The fabric rested loosely over the natural curves of her breasts and did little to hide what was underneath. Aemond made a conscious effort not to acknowledge her bareness but his brother made no attempt to hide it.

“Cole and I have finalized plans this afternoon. Not much has changed since we discussed this in the council meeting yesterday.” He paused briefly before finding his train of thought again, pulling his wandering eyes back up to meet hers. “You will first arrive at Stokeworth, moving swiftly to Rosby to verify their allegiance to us still. It will take another few days to reach Duskendale, in which you will take the city as quickly as possible.” Aegon took a breath, his eyes briefly running back over her body. “We will then move further north to take Lord Staunton at Rook’s Rest.”

Viserra ignored the way he looked at her, listening carefully and with great interest. “We?” She asked, curious about the plural pronoun. The plan up until then was for only her to leave with the army.

Aegon realized he had given away more than intended, quickly redirecting his focus to her face. “Yes, we,” he confirmed, looking to Aemond as if anticipating that he might object to this change in their plans.

“That is not what we discussed this morning.” Aemond growled, pulling his arm from Viserra and taking a step towards Aegon.

“A King must show his face in the first of the battles,” he explained. “Cole agrees that my presence will send a strong message.”

“And what do you suppose you will contribute with all of the years of training you traded for cups and whores?” Aemond retorted. He was beyond irritated, though it was unclear whether it was due to his exclusion from the new plan or the idea of Viserra flying into battle alongside Aegon, rather than him.

“Watch your tongue, brother.” Aegon cautioned. His face now showed a flicker of warning as his brother seemed to disregard his position.

Viserra did not wish for there to be quarreling the night before departure, and in truth, she was not opposed to the company of another dragonrider on the battlefield. Stepping between the two, she turned to face Aemond.

“Hear what he has to say before lashing out. You do not fully understand his reasoning behind this choice.” Once again she reached up to place a hand on his chest in an attempt to bring his heat down to a simmer.

“Cole does not think it will take long for word to reach Rhaenyra after we lay siege to Duskindale.” Aegon continued, unbothered by Aemond’s temperament. “We will fly back with word of our progress and next plan of action. You will then join me at Rook’s Rest while Viserra takes her turn in safeguarding the Keep.”

The plan started to become clearer as Aegon provided more information than was discussed during the council meeting. She was impressed by the level of detail, realizing that the new Hand and Lord Commander had wasted no time in exercising his expertise and strategy.

“You plan to besiege Rook’s Rest with both Sunfyre and Vhagar,” she said, relaying her thoughts out loud, “In hopes that Rhaenyra wrongly assumes that your forces will be weak and numbers small? With Daemon holding Harrenhal, it would likely be only Rhaenyra to fly to Lord Staunton’s defense. ”

A smile flashed across the king’s face and he appeared pleased that she understood the strategy. “Clever girl,” he praised, “But no one else besides Cole knows of these details in hopes that the plan can be carried out without any leaks.”

Viserra glanced back to Aemond whose tension continued to ease as he processed the information. Although he did not immediately respond, it was obvious that he was deeply contemplating it all.

When he finally spoke, he was notably less irritated. “I do not wish to be excluded again from the discussions of such matters. Especially if you intend to involve me or my dragon.”

Letting out a small sigh, Viserra shook her head. It seemed difficult for Aemond to admit that his brother had come up with a good plan. To lure Rhaenyra out and hope to attack without other dragonriders coming to her defense was of ingenious tact.

“Aemond,” she chided, bringing her hand up to join the other on his chest. “I think this plan is quite brilliant and I know you are intelligent enough to see it the same.” She turned her head to look at Aegon as she spoke her next words. “I am certain Aegon will make an effort to include us in such discussions from this point on, but if you cannot manage your bitterness in this moment, it will be even less appealing for him to do so.”

She had begun to notice a pattern in which Aemond struggled to maintain his composure. At the top of that list was anything to do with her and Aegon’s relationship, where even the smallest thing seemed to provoke a different side of him. While she understood that he would never be as indifferent as Aegon on the matter, she had hoped that with time, it would become less of a trigger.

“At least listen to her, if not to me,” Aegon spoke. “She speaks wisely. I often find that she helps me see reason when I am having difficulty navigating my thoughts.”

The look on Aemond’s face twisted through several different emotions, but he quickly composed himself and settled with a hum. He knew that Viserra had significant influence on Aegon behind closed doors and couldn’t deny she was a large part of the reason he had the confidence to stand in his role as King.

Aemond lowered his eye to meet hers and let out a sigh, seeming to finally let the remainder of his irritation go. His hands came up to cup her face and she could see his own expression soften. “It is a good plan. An excellent offensive ploy on our behalf. No doubt the Warrior will lead us to victory,” he sighed. Catching her off guard, stole a kiss from her that was both intense and possessive. After taking his time on her lips, he eventually pulled away.  “There are a few loose ends that I need to tend to before the morning comes.”

The force of the kiss had left a lingering pressure of his lips on hers. “Are you leaving for the night?” she asked. Part of her was surprised he was willing to depart without dragging Aegon out of the room with him.

“I will see you off first thing in the morning,” he promised, releasing her face and bringing his attention back to his brother. “This is the last night for her to sleep before setting off to battle, do not linger long.” His words were calm on the surface, but she could sense there was more underneath.

A smirk tugged on Aegon’s lips in response to the veiled warning. “You need not worry, brother. I will see the visit short.”

Aemond scoffed at the remark and then swiftly made his way out. As the door closed behind him, the room was left in a moment of silence. Viserra brought her attention back to Aegon and realized he looked like he was on the brink of laughter.

“What could possibly be so amusing?” she asked, somewhat irritated at his playfulness.

“You bring out an absolutely vexing side of him,” he observed. “I have not seen him so bothered over minute things like that for a great number of years.”

With her expression unwavering, she placed her hands on her hips. In all honesty, Aegon’s acceptance of the complex dynamic they shared with each other made his behavior rather unusual. However, she chose not to voice that thought, not wanting to influence him in the other direction.

“You each have your flaws,” she pointed out, choosing a vague response in hopes to diffuse it all.

Aegon drew closer, the playful smile now turning into one with more sincerity. “Though I can’t seem to find any flaws with you,” he confessed.

“Aegon,” she groused, unamused at being spoken in such a way.

He brought his thumb up to trace the bottom of her pouty lip and she closed her eyes while taking a moment to revel in the tender gesture. When she opened them again, Aegon’s face had grown more serious. His eyes showed a hint of concern as he tilted her chin up with his fingers. He had come to the realization that leaving on the morrow to head into battle was a somewhat unsettling thought.

“When this is all over, we will come back and live as we please,” he vowed. The way he spoke the words was almost as if he were trying to convince himself of it. “Promise me, each time you leave me to go to battle, you will make it back.”

The continued concern for her wellbeing was endearing but it was not in her nature to dwell on such dangers. “This is everything I have ever trained for, Aegon. I promise I will come back to you both in one piece.”

Aegon looked relieved to hear it and chuckled. “That is more than I can say for myself.”

She gave him a genuine smile, the comment had as much truth as it was a jest. “You only need to sit atop your pretty dragon with your pretty self, and we will do the rest.”

“That is not fair,” he rebutted, his eyebrows slightly furrowing. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close before leaving a quick kiss to her temple. Though he quickly changed his tune as he brought his voice down to her ear. “I may not have trained as you and Aemond have, but I will still be a Targaryen on the back of a dragon.” 

He did indeed speak the truth. Any man who rode a dragon to war had an advantage that others could only dream of. She had watched Aegon interact with Sunfyre and had observed the close bond they shared. Regardless of training or experience, he would still be an asset to their forces.

Aegon gently combed his fingers through her hair realizing it was still damp from the bath. “Best not to catch a chill the night before a long journey,” he suggested. “Shall we sit you by the fire until we are sure you have warmed all the way through?”

She nodded. There was something comforting about sitting by the flames after a bath, letting the heat seep into her body and chase away any lingering chill. They settled themselves in front of the fireplace, Viserra wrapping her arms around her shins and let her chin rest atop her knees. Aegon reclined on his back, mindlessly spinning the rings on his fingers while the glow of the fire flickered around them.

“If our plans are implemented successfully and we are able to eliminate the pretender queen, the victory will be ours.” He thought out loud, taking a moment to look to her for her approval.

“Mayhaps it will shift the war to our favor, but those loyal to Rhaenyra will continue to lash out until they have all been struck down.”

Aegon sighed. “Do you speak of my uncle?”

“I speak not only of Daemon but the rest of those that support Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne,” she opined. “Even if we eliminated their queen, they would just implant her heir in her place.”

“Aemond will handle our uncle,” he said with confidence. “Without Daemon, the Blacks will fall apart.”

“Aemond has never been to war,” she pointed out. “Your uncle and his dragon have recently spent many years engaged in real battle.” Viserra furrowed her eyebrows at Aegon’s overconfidence. “Underestimating him would be incredibly dangerous.”

She thought about the way Daemon had looked at her on the first night of her arrival in King’s Landing. His presence was chaotic and intimidating and she knew that he would remain a significant threat until his death. She had heard so many things about him over the years and if only half of them were true, he would still be their biggest challenge.

Aegon stopped spinning his rings and looked over to find her worried expression. He seemed to process her words and take its truth into consideration. Shifting himself into a seated position, he reached out to tousle the hair on her head.

Viserra swatted his hand away and perplexedly stared back. His playful nature often caught her off guard when they were engaged in more serious matters.

“I speak the truth,” she asserted, hoping that he had taken her seriously. “We must not let our guard down.”

“And this is just one of the reasons you are most valuable at my side,” he reasoned. “To keep me humbled.” He was again smiling at her and she noticed his eyes were intermittently darting to her lips.

“This is why you have experienced advisors, Aegon,” she reminded him, not entirely comfortable with the extent of her influence over him.

“Indeed,” he agreed.

Her eyebrows remained furrowed as she watched his gaze now fall down her body. Aegon’s soft features were haunted by his dark undereyes, evidence that the strain of his responsibilities weighed heavily on his shoulders. Though beneath it all, she found appreciation for the youthful spirit that still lingered there.

She sat patiently, choosing not to respond until he had snapped himself out of his trance. Once he raised his eyes back to hers, she softened her expression.

“You are a handful,” she playfully accused as his smile transformed into a smirk.

He moved closer, pulling her in by the nape of her neck and pressing his lips gently to hers. She enjoyed the pleasant union, noting that his soft lips carried a faint taste of wine. As the warmth surrounded them, she felt an overwhelming sense of contentment there.

“I will admit to agreeing with Aemond on one thing…” he began, “it would be irresponsible to keep you up all night.” The overall teasing manner of his tone was not completely free from a hint of disappointment that suggested he would have preferred otherwise.

Leaning her weight on one arm, Viserra gently tapped him on the nose with her finger. “I assure you, I can manage my own best interests. I have been taking care of myself quite capably over the past few years.”

He raised his eyebrows at her words. “Has it occurred to you yet that our concerns do not mean we feel you are incapable? I cannot speak for Aemond, but I only worry in your regard because I care for you.”

Viserra thought over that statement, finding it rather puzzling. She had, in fact, assumed that their concerns for her was a reflection of their doubts regarding her capabilities.

“Hm,” she mused, continuing to contemplate it carefully. It did make sense in a way but giving weight to that reality was something she did not want to admit.

Viserra had vowed to avoid such liabilities when committing her life to training and combat. She had given up the idea of marriage and children from a young age, knowing that they could potentially be used as a strategic weakness by her foes.

The revelation suddenly hit her that she had unwittingly placed herself in the very situation she strived to avoid. Not only had she opened her heart to one person, but to two. Even worse, these very men would be standing at her side on the battlefield and that weakness would inevitably be exposed.Recognizing that her judgment and priorities could be compromised due to these relationships was of significant concern. But the most frightening of all was the realization that she had become a vulnerability for them both as well.

[ukrfeminism]

An ‘evil’ sex predator who raped two 15-year-old schoolgirls has been jailed for 11 years. 

David Berbers, 21, attacked the first teenager several times in London and the second 50 miles away in a park in Hove, East Sussex after contacting her on Instagram.

Detectives believe there may be more victims of Berbers, of Richmond-upon-Thames, and urged anyone with information to come forward.

The initial victim, now 16, contacted Metropolitan Police officers in May 2019 to report Berbers had raped and sexually assaulted her on many occasions between December 2017 and March 2018.

Intelligence records were scanned and uncovered another offence where Berbers was suspected of attacked a girl in Hove. 

He had arranged to meet her after communicating on social media.

After suggesting they walk through St Ann’s Well Gardens, he raped her before fleeing the scene, leaving her to seek help from members of the public nearby.

She was supported by medical professionals and specialist police officers, while an urgent investigation was launched.

Berbers, of Byatt Walk, Hampton was identified through his Instagram account and the phone number he used to contact the victim, as well as a detailed description she provided.

Met and colleagues in Sussex Police put together a compelling case against him.

At Kingston Crown Court, a jury convicted Berbers of three counts of rape and he admitted possession of extreme pornography. 

When released, he must serve a further three years on licence with the threat that he will be returned to jailed. Berbers also received a 10-year sexual harm prevention order.

Detective Constable Hannah Saunders, of the Met’s public protection unit in south west London, said: “These young women have both been through a terrible ordeal. 

“I would like to commend them for their courage and resilience. 

“It is because of their testimony that this evil man is now behind bars and I hope this will bring them some closure.

“Unfortunately we cannot be sure there are not more victims who are yet to come forward. 

“I would encourage anyone with information to get in touch so we can give you the support you need and investigate any further crimes.

“We take all allegations of this nature very seriously and you will be listened to and supported.”

Kent Police Detective Sergeant Kerri Bartup said: “David Berbers is a predatory offender who has proven time and again to be a danger to women and girls.

“His young victim has shown incredible courage and resilience to first report the offence, and then to support the investigation through to its conclusion.

“I would also like to commend the quick-thinking members of the public who brought her to a place of safety on the day of the incident.”

Anyone aware of further offences, can call police via 101 or Crimestoppers anonymously on 0800 555 111.

[deepspacedukat]

Unravel

Inspired by this ask by @romulanhorsegirl and written with their permission. My god. This has been living in my brain for SO MANY DAYS. PLEASE ENJOY THE FRUITS OF MY LABOR. This is just under 11,300 words. Enjoy!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

T’Kosh (ST:ENT) x Reader

[A/N: This is angsty, fluffy, and smutty, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies sex, Human/Vulcan sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, making out in a sacred hallway, blasphemy, oral sex (female receiving), oral sex (male receiving), fondling, biting, marking, dirty talk, innuendo, mild choking kink, frottage, mild d/s dynamics.

~*~

**2151 - P’Jem Monastery**

The monks of P’Jem were all meditating quietly in the large room where the Andorian officers had corralled them. There was little else to do. As their order was pacifistic in nature, they would not commit violence, and there was no way to convince the Andorians to leave. At T’Kosh’s urging, the monks simply tried to bide their time. Their heads lifted, though, at the sound of the door banging open. The Commander of the Andorian officers stood fuming in the doorway.

“We’ve detected a vessel in orbit,” he growled as he and one of his Lieutenants walked farther into the room. “We don’t recognize its configuration, and they’ve launched a shuttle. One of you will come to the entryway and get rid of them.”

As T’Kosh was the eldest monk present, he stood and clasped his hands in front of him, carefully ignoring the weapon being pointed in his direction.

“Allow me,” he said taking a small step forward as he spoke. The Commander strode over to him, moving well into his personal space.

“If you alert them to our presence in any way, you’ll experience the emotion of wrath firsthand as I rain it down upon you and the others. Got it, old man?”

“I understand, Commander,” T’Kosh replied, and he was ushered out of the room with a weapon pointed at his back. Dutifully, he took up the correct position in the atrium and waited for their unexpected visitors. Soon, someone pulled at the bell rope, as was customary, however, the Andorian soldier hiding behind the wooden divider shook his head at T’Kosh mutely. The Vulcan remained where he was. He had little choice when an armed soldier was mere feet from him just looking for an excuse to kill him.

Eventually, the visitors pushed the door open and stepped inside the monastery’s atrium. T’Kosh recognized the first two as Human males. The third was a Vulcan female in a military uniform, and the fourth was - there was no other word for her but beautiful. Were all Human females that...arresting? The young woman met his eyes for barely a moment, giving him a shy smile before averting her gaze. T’Kosh had never seen a Human in such close proximity, and he regretted that his only opportunity to encounter them was under such unpleasant circumstances. They were intriguing by appearance alone.

He turned his attention to the Vulcan officer approaching him and listened as she communicated her crewmates’ desire to see the temple. With great reluctance, he knew that he must do as the Andorians had ordered him. He wanted to show the young Human female around and answer her questions - judging by the curiosity in her expression, she would have many - but his first priority had to be protecting the members of his order. She would be protected as well, if he did his job sufficiently. The Andorians would have no reason to harm or detain her if he kept her ignorant of the present situation.

The lie fell from T’Kosh’s tongue as convincingly as he could manage.

“This is the time of kolinahr. The order must remain in silent reflection throughout the duration of the lunar cycle. Forgive me, I must refuse you,” he said, and the Vulcan officer nodded her head, returning to the three Humans to deliver the news. Of their own volition, T’Kosh’s eyes returned to the young woman who was examining a small statue of Surak that was poorly placed. He wished to straighten it so that his order would not seem slovenly to her.

That impulse startled him. Oh no. Perhaps it was best that he’d refused them entry. She threatened his decades long work in the art of kolinahr. His logic was as tightly woven and carefully structured as a tapestry, but she was pulling quite insistently at one of the threads. If she pulled any harder, he suspected that he might unravel completely.

“Your service honors us. Before we leave, may I request the offering of the J’Kah stone for my distinguished guests?” Such an offering had never been made to Humans. Nevertheless, T’Kosh nodded his head and requested for them to wait before turning to retrieve the stone. He knew the Andorian Commander would not be pleased if this took too long, but it was better to honor the request. To refuse would be illogical and would raise more questions than would be acceptable to his captors.

When he returned, T’Kosh allowed himself a small personal liberty. He carried the box containing the J’Kah stone over to stand in front of the young woman who had so easily caught his attention. She looked up at him with wide eyes as he approached. He knew the Vulcan officer would wonder why he chose her in particular to receive the honor of the litany, but he had no doubt he could explain it logically should he be questioned.

Before he could begin, however, the two Human men began commenting on other monasteries they’d visited, and the one with the odd accent paused by an upended jar as he remarked about the potential cleanup time.

“Forgive the disarray,” T’Kosh began. “Kolinahr encourages the members of our order to face their vestigial emotions. The repercussions can sometimes be violent. Please. This is the stone of J'Kah, which represents the foundation of all we believe. A life of order and control through logic.”

At his explanation, the woman stood a little straighter and watched him open the box in awe. Odd. T’Kosh had heard that Humans had little respect for logic. Yes, he had chosen wisely. She was clearly special. Once she placed her hand delicately on the carved stone, as was customary, he began the litany.

“Ishtaya kulah. Vestal ma etak J'Kah,” he intoned as clearly and with as much reverence as he could. Mentally, he chastised himself for being a hypocrite. How could he recite such sacred words when she had already inspired emotional desires within him?

The silence after she opened her eyes was a breathless one for T’Kosh. He knew what was happening. Mere minutes and one woman had already begun to destroy over fifty years of painstaking meditation and work all without saying a word.

The jarringly out-of-place voice of her Captain broke the almost-trance that the Vulcan Elder had fallen into. Coming back to himself, T’Kosh closed the box, turned, and listened to the idle conversation between the Captain and the Commander before urging them to leave. He did not wish to send her away, but for her own safety, he knew that he must. She must not be dragged into this.

He was still trying to work out why one woman had inspired such strong reactions in him when he realized how far into the room the men had moved. Both ended up alarmingly close to the Andorian officer’s hiding place - Thon, if he remembered correctly - and T’Kosh was able to do no more than watch as the Humans broke down the wooden barrier. The lady by his side moved to help them, but reflexively, T’Kosh caught her arm. The less she was involved, the easier it would be for him to protect her from the Commander’s anger.

“Wha–”

She broke off when the other three Andorian officers entered with their weapons aimed at them.

As the five of them were herded into the room where the monks were being kept, T’Kosh ensured that his body blocked her from the officer just behind them.

An illogical action. She is an officer. She can protect herself.

But she is innocent. It is logical to protect the innocent. She is no threat to them. She is gentle and curious, nothing more. It is logical to protect her.

His mind argued back and forth with all the violence of his long-repressed emotions; logic and emotion warred silently within him, but all he showed outwardly was a minutely furrowed brow. The members of his order would likely realize something was wrong, but none of the visitors would be the wiser, just so long as he was careful.

The Andorian Commander shoved the Humans to one side of the room, including the woman T’Kosh had been attempting to protect, then he got right up in his face.

“Why didn’t you tell us one of your people was aboard?” He practically snarled, but T’Kosh remained as calm as before.

“It’s an Earth vessel, I didn’t know.” The ensuing conversation was a mass of Andorian posturing and poorly-timed comments from the Human Captain. Once the latter was on the floor gasping for air, the soldiers finally left their prisoners alone. The Vulcan science officer began to explain who their captors were to her superior officer, and despite his better judgment, T’Kosh made his way to the Human woman’s side again. “In order to alleviate tensions, we negotiated a treaty, but some Andorian factions still believe we're bent on conquest.”

“What do they want with a three thousand year old temple?” The man with the odd accent asked from the Captain’s side.

“They believe we are hiding a long range sensor array,” T’Kosh explained. He hated that these outsiders had been dragged into the middle of their conflict. He hoped that the Andorians would simply allow the Human crew to leave so that she - they - would be safe. Though he did not wish to lie, he knew it was for the good of Vulcan. The needs of the many... “This is a place of introspection, Captain. There are no spies here, and no technology.”

He could not look at her as he spoke for fear that she would see his deception and think less of him for it. There were many spies below the catacombs harboring and utilizing sophisticated technology to spy on their neighbors. There were not many choices T’Kosh made that caused him true, deep consternation, but allowing a spy station to exist beneath a place of introspection and pure logic which he held so dear...that was one of them.

Glancing over at the young woman, who was helping her Captain to his feet, he felt the beginning spark of an ire stronger than he had experienced in decades. Why should he allow a woman as kindhearted as she was to be caught up in conflicts that should not even begin to touch her?

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” the Captain murmured, and she gave him a respectful nod. The Human Commander looked at T’Kosh and the others in confusion.

“So what are ya going to do, just sit here and let ‘em ransack the place?”

Sulok, one of the initiates, spoke up before T’Kosh could.

“Typically, they make a great display of their indignance. When they find nothing, they leave,” he explained, and he was essentially correct. There was obviously a large mess to clean up each time, but that was to be expected where Andorian commandos were concerned.

“The Andorians were here twice before and both times left within a day,” T’Kosh said. “Unfortunately your arrival has amplified their suspicions.”

Before the Elder could stop him, Sulok spoke again, this time with discernible bitterness in his tone.

“You've endangered us all,” he said looking directly at the Lieutenant, and at the look of horrified regret that crossed her features, T’Kosh bristled. This was not her fault. He could tell she was motivated by curiosity alone. Malicious intent was not to be found in her, especially not in this situation.

Placing what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder, T’Kosh herded the initiate and the rest of the order closer to one end of the room and encouraged them to attempt meditation. They would be engaged in communal kolinahr at this time, anyway, so it was only logical that they meditate while they had the opportunity.

--

As Captain Archer was taken from the room for questioning for the third time by the Andorians, T’Kosh noted the troubled look on his beautiful, unofficial charge’s face.

She is a Lieutenant. Though you may only be thinking of her, show the proper respect by acknowledging her rank. She must have exerted much effort to attain her position.

He knelt beside her and regarded her quietly. She had been questioned earlier, but unlike her crewmates, she’d returned unharmed. There was something special about her. T’Kosh couldn’t quite identify it, but whatever it was, the Andorians had obviously seen it too, or she would’ve come back bloody and beaten just like the others. She still looked rather nervous, though.

Of course she’s nervous. She is a prisoner.

“I realize that we are being held here just as you are, but if there is any way that I can assist you in feeling more comfortable, please do not hesitate to inform me,” he said, and she gave him a small smile that made his heart flutter in his side. What an alarming sensation.

“Thank you, mister...?”

“My name is T’Kosh, t’sai,” he supplied giving her a polite bow of his head. Fetching one of the blankets from the pile at the side, he offered it to her. He regretted that it wasn’t softer, but it would provide quite a bit of warmth. “While I cannot offer many amenities, I must suggest you use one of these. Our sanctuary can become quite cold at night.”

“Thank you for your generosity. We’re the ones who put your people in danger, yet you’ve been kind to me. I’m very grateful,” she said as she accepted the rough cloth from him. Her fingers brushed his for barely a second, and T’Kosh’s breath caught in his throat. “Forgive my curiosity, T’Kosh, but may I ask a few questions about this place? I’ve never seen a Vulcan monastery before.”

“Certainly. What do you wish to know?” For nearly the next hour, the Vulcan Elder answered her questions in as much detail and with as much clarity as he could. She hung on his every word as if transfixed by a tale of heroics he was spinning with the history of his order. Perhaps, to her, he was. Vulcan’s history was not Earth’s, so, logically, everything he told her could have been entirely new to her. Based on the High Command’s information, intellectual curiosity was not what he expected from a Human, but his ashaya apparently had it in abundance.

What right do you have to even think of her as yours?

Before he could ask about her culture in return, though, the door opened, and Captain Archer was tossed back inside with a bloodied, bruised face. She and Commander Tucker immediately moved to help him, and she began to wipe away the blood dripping down his cheek with a small, damp cloth. She was compassionate, too?

Gentle, caring, tender mate!

His emotions roared within him with an almost startling urgency. He felt his cheeks heat up for a moment before he forced his physical control back into place.

“These guys are serious,” Archer rasped as he took the cloth from the Lieutenant’s hand and started dabbing at his split lip. “They're going to start killing you people if they don't find what they're looking for.”

“There is nothing to find,” T’Kosh insisted, though each lie made him feel less and less worthy of his position in the order...and less worthy of her. Archer and the Commander started talking about other options, and T’Kosh dipped into his courage. They were all in a rather desperate position, after all. He explained about the old, possibly non-functional transmitter down in the catacombs, and Sulok led the Commander into the passage to locate it.

Would that be enough? If the transmitter worked, would this be enough to keep the Lieutenant safe and assuage his conscience?

And why was he feeling guilt in the first place? He’d spent years mastering his emotions. He was reacting logically to each situation that was presented to him. Why was all of his training crashing down around him in a smoldering pile of rubble?

Fool, you know why. She’s standing mere feet away. Open the door to one emotion and the rest come rushing in, too. Your regard for her started this descent into chaos. You know the choice you must make.

Indeed, he did, but...he did not want to. His logic was precious to him, but the urge to protect her, to win her over, to be hers...that was stronger than anything he’d felt before, save the pon farr drives. How had she captured him so fully? She’d decimated his kolinahr training, and she was not even aware of the effect she was having on him.

While Sulok and the Commander were gone, T’Kosh took a deep breath and attempted to meditate. He knew it would not be deep or particularly productive, but he hoped it would be just enough to bring him closer to regaining his equilibrium.

He had no idea how long his focus lasted, but when he opened his eyes he saw that both men were back and that he wasn’t alone. The Lieutenant was sitting beside him huddled quietly under the blanket he’d given her. The sun had begun to set and the temperature had dropped several degrees. In spite of her covering, she shivered slightly as she looked out the window at the changing horizon.

“Are you cold, t’sai?” His voice seemed to surprise her, but she smiled softly up at him.

“A little chilly, maybe, but I’m fine, T’Kosh, really.”

Allowing himself a skeptical raised eyebrow, he made it quite clear that he didn’t believe her polite demurral.

“It would be illogical for a host to allow his guest to freeze, even if we are both hostages,” he stated as he moved closer to her and opened his arms. She took the hint and leaned against him, allowing him to wrap his arms around her so she could share his body heat. Protect, provide, keep her warm. Several members of his order looked scandalized by his behavior, but T’Kosh’s only focus was on the woman nestled in his arms.

“What are sunsets like on Vulcan?” T’Kosh blinked at her murmured question. “I’ve never had the chance to go there, but I’ve always wondered what Vulcan must be like. Earth only has one star and the sunsets are beautiful. How much more exquisite must sunsets look on a planet with two stars like your home has?”

“I must admit, I have no frame of reference with which to describe the differences. I have never been to Earth,” the Vulcan Elder said as his gaze skimmed slowly over her face. “However, as this monastery is in a system which has one star, can I assume that what you are watching now is similar to your own sunset?”

“Yeah, it is, actually.”

“In that case, you might be interested to learn that Vulcan’s sunsets are more prolonged, and the colors are more vibrant.” Her eyes lit up in wonder, and T’Kosh nodded his head in confirmation. “Another contrast to your planet’s night is that Vulcan has no moon...”

He answered several more of her questions before she began yawning. Ah, yes. He’d read somewhere that Humans required more sleep than Vulcans.

“Rest, Lieutenant. I will keep you safe,” T’Kosh promised, and as he trailed his fingers lightly through her hair, she nuzzled into his robe.

Gentle...precious...

He was acutely aware that his behavior toward her was much too familiar to be proper. It was inappropriate, yet as she drifted to sleep with her head on his chest, T’Kosh couldn’t bring himself to move away. He would gladly allow her to use him as a pillow anytime she desired. Subtly, he sniffed the air and found his senses clouded by her pheromones. How had he missed them before when she smelled so sensual? He’d always heard that Humans had an unpleasant odor, but her scent was delicious.

Beautiful, fragrant, compatible mate! His instincts screamed at him with a passion and urgency they had not attained since before he began studying kolinahr. She was truly dangerous, but all he had to do was restrain himself until morning.

The night hours felt slower than they ever had before, but T’Kosh didn’t dare attempt to meditate. He knew his time with the Lieutenant was likely to be limited either by her crew’s escape or by the Andorians killing them all. He didn’t want to miss a single second with her, even if his control was tenuous at best in her presence. She looked so peaceful sleeping against his sternum. Had she any idea how much turmoil she’d inspired within him?

When morning finally came, Archer and Tucker awoke easily. T’Kosh allowed her a few minutes more of merciful rest before he carefully attempted to wake her. He murmured her name and ran his fingers gently through her hair. When she let out a small, discontented noise, the Vulcan Elder felt a surge of regret. He wished more than anything that he could soothe her back to sleep and allow her to escape the reality of her situation a while longer, but the Captain was watching them expectantly. He refused to be harsh in awakening her, though.

“Forgive me, Lieutenant. You must wake up. Morning has arrived,” he murmured, and when she blinked sleepily up at him disoriented and disheveled, T’Kosh realized he had never seen such a lovely sight in all his life. “Good morning.”

“G’morning.” Her voice was rough with sleep, and she smiled up at him before her situation came back to her. Her eyes widened and she clumsily extracted herself from his arms. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean–”

“Calm yourself. You have committed no offense,” he soothed looking into her eyes. She seemed surprised that he wasn’t angry, but ultimately her relief allowed her to let out a breath.

“Lieutenant,” the Captain called out to her with an amused smile on his face. Could he tell what feelings had been building between them? Could he see the evidence of T’Kosh’s failure to retain his kolinahr training in the face of a single, breathtaking woman?

Creating a map of the catacombs on the floor using old coins, T’Kosh watched as the Starfleet officers attempted to construct a plan in the early morning light.

“Do any of these tunnels lead to the outside?” Archer asked, but the Elder was forced to disappoint him. “What about this reliquary?”

“No one has entered it in years,” Sulok replied.

“To do so would be blasphemy,” T’Kosh said firmly, hoping that would be enough to keep them away from the underground spy station. If his ashaya found out that he had lied to them...to her...

Stop. She is not yours.

“I saw an old stairwell down there, maybe a meter wide. It was right about here,” Commander Tucker said. “There were three dim lights coming from the top. It looked somethin’ like this...”

He trailed off as he arranged three extra coins into the shape of a triangle.

“The face in the atrium,” the Lieutenant murmured as she looked up at the Captain. “If those two connect–”

“–We might have an opportunity. Great job you two.” The Captain praised his officers, and, foolishly, T’Kosh felt a swell of pride at her cleverness. “Alright, I’ll get myself in there and toss something in the mouth. One of you needs to wait in the tunnel and see if we’re right.”

“I’ll do it, Captain,” the Lieutenant volunteered, and at a nod from Archer, T’Kosh came to a decision.

“Then I will accompany you. You have not been in the catacombs yet and will, logically, require an escort.” The Lieutenant gave him a grateful smile that made all the judgmental looks from the rest of his order fade into nothingness.

“Alright. You two stay here until the Andorians take me. As soon as I’m gone, make your way to the catacombs,” the Captain ordered. Quickly, they all cleared away the evidence of their plan, and Archer started yelling for Commander Shran to let him out. T’Kosh felt the Lieutenant’s hands take up residence on his arm, and he took a deep, slow breath to keep himself calm.

As soon as the Andorians dragged the Captain out, T’Kosh and the Lieutenant grabbed torches and went into the dusty, old tunnels. En route to their destination, he heard her ask a question just above a whisper.

“Is there...? I mean, I know you said that entering the reliquary was blasphemous, but is my presence here in the tunnels...allowed?” She sounded tentative, as though she was truly afraid of accidentally desecrating sacred ground by merely existing. Considerate, respectful mate.

“You are not committing an offense, ashaya. Were you to come down here alone, I could not say the same, but so long as I am with you, you have no reason to fear,” T’Kosh assured quietly as he cleared away a cobweb and hung his torch just before the final turn. She did the same with the hook on the other side of the tunnel. They would have to go the rest of the way without the additional light. “Be careful. The ground is not flat here.”

He allowed her to go first in the final stretch. The lighting from their torches stretched just far enough to allow them to see where they were going, but a few feet from the spot where they needed to wait, the Lieutenant tripped on a hidden root. T’Kosh didn’t think, he simply reacted. His arms shot out, catching her and pulling her back against his chest.

“Are you alright?” He whispered against her ear, and she nodded her head. Turning in his arms, she looked up at him with wide eyes and thanked him. Despite his training and his decades of flawless control, he became lost in her eyes.

The sound of angry voices pulled them both from their reverie, and they walked closer to the alcove to wait. Quietly, the Vulcan Elder watched the Lieutenant lean against one of the wooden supports in the wall. She wasn’t staring at the three points of light, however. She was observing him. Did she feel it, too, this building attraction?

Taking a slow step toward her, T’Kosh took a chance. After being in such close proximity with her, smelling her pheromones all night, his control was hanging by a thread. He reached out carefully so as not to startle her, and he brushed two fingertips lightly, tenderly over her lips. The receptive, encouraging spark of desire in her consciousness that he felt during that brief moment of contact lit his passions aflame.

Swallowing heavily, T’Kosh stepped closer to her and brought both hands up to caress her cheeks, her forehead, her neck. She arched into him, and before he could register what was happening, the Lieutenant had tugged him closer by the front of his robes and pressed her lips against his.

Her lips moved tentatively against his, and when he attempted to reciprocate, she let out a pleased little sigh against his mouth. Had the situation been any different, T’Kosh would’ve taken her right there amidst the ancient, dust-covered relics. Oh, to hear her pleas for his seed echo through the sacred catacombs!

As his fingers laced with hers to begin a seductive dance, he trailed his lips downward, and she breathed his name with such lust that T’Kosh growled. Without conscious thought, he bit the corner of her jaw. Her fingers squeezed his, and a rush of her pheromones flooded his senses. 

Bite, mark, keep, MINE! Responsive mate!

She would not be able to hide that from her crewmates...from the rest of his order...

Good! She is mine, mine, MINE! No others shall touch her! No others shall please her with their bodies! Only me! Only mine!

Her free hand wove its way into T’Kosh’s hair, encouraging his inappropriate behavior. And it was inappropriate. The two of them being in the tunnel was one thing, but to behave so lustfully in such close proximity to sacred relics and the remains of honored kolinahr masters? Nothing else he’d ever done had even remotely approached this level of sacrilege and dishonor.

Alarmingly, it occurred to him as his lips reconnected with hers that he didn’t care. If this was wrong, then he wished to be wrong for the rest of his life, so long as she was there to share in his blasphemy.

A dull thunk a few steps from them made them pull apart in surprise. The spell had been broken. With an apologetic look, she stepped away from him and bent down to pick up a small figure.

Ah. The Captain. The plan. Of course. Forcing his control back into place, T’Kosh attempted to breathe more slowly and to resist the desire to tug her back into his arms and unclothe her.

The Lieutenant smiled up at him and pressed her lips against his cheek one last time before beginning to head back toward their torches. T’Kosh swallowed reflexively and took a deep breath. He needed to force his physical reaction away. Her pheromones coating his robe and the mark he’d left on her would be damning enough without him appearing to be in rut like an undisciplined sehlat. The very least he could do was compose himself before they returned to the others.

Fortunately, by the time they reemerged, the tenting in his robe had disappeared again, but that did nothing to stop the surprised looks from the others. Her Captain was clutching his side and dabbing at another wound, but when he saw the drip of blood that had trickled down her neck, his brow furrowed.

T’Kosh hadn’t even realized that he’d bitten her that hard. Did he have her blood on his lips? Was that why he’d tasted a burst of copper? Commander Tucker walked over to her and traded her a clean cloth for the little figure they’d been sent to retrieve.

“Looks like y’all had fun.”

‘Fun’...What an inadequate descriptor for what T’Kosh had felt when he’d indulged himself in her...

--

“I don’t have to tell you, Captain, we don’t condone the actions you are about to take,” T’Kosh stated. He knew that his ashaya would understand - she seemed to understand his culture better than the other two Humans - but Archer seemed hellbent on taking rash action. He knew she had little choice but to obey her commanding officer, but he disliked that she was forced to do something so dangerous.

And it was all because she was caught in the middle of a conflict that had nothing to do with her.

T’Kosh realized that his feelings for her were not the only strong motivators he had to seriously consider leaving the order. Logic had once held a lofty appeal for him. It could be used to explain noble actions, to remove the emotion from heroics, to remove one’s ambitions and fears, leaving only duty and reason in their place.

But it could also be used to justify misdirection, deception, and blatant lies. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Wise words, but even wisdom could be twisted when logic was applied with ill intent. This was not the first time T’Kosh had held this debate within himself.

What good was logic when it was being twisted and used for illogical, non-peaceful purposes?

“No, you don't have to tell me. Just try and stay out of the way and everything will work out fine.”

The Lieutenant gave him an apologetic look at her C.O.’s rude words. Quietly, T’Kosh reached her side and let the backs of his fingers brush against hers.

“Be careful,” he breathed, and she gave him a smile so disarming that his cheeks burned. The mark he’d left on her had begun to go dark around the edges. Humans bruised quite easily. At least the bleeding had stopped.

“I will,” she murmured, and he did as her Captain had instructed, moving to stand with his order against the far wall. As soon as the officers who beamed in had entered the passage, the Andorians burst in, guns at the ready and talking about an energy surge.

The Commander began to leave one of his men in charge when he caught sight of the Lieutenant’s injury. T’Kosh relied on the last of his restraint and control not to snap the man’s neck when he lightly grasped her jaw.

“Did one of my men do this to you, Lieutenant? You can answer truthfully, I promise you. We are not in the business of sexually assaulting people, even those in league with the Vulcans,” he said with surprising gentleness.

“No, sir. I wasn’t assaulted,” she answered quietly. With a glance at Archer, Shran raised an eyebrow.

“I take it this is your work, then, Captain? Do you often take...liberties with your officers?”

“I would never behave inappropriately with those under my command,” he said firmly. “I’m supposed to protect my officers, not take advantage of them.”

Tucker denied it too, and Shran turned back to the young woman curiously.

“Then who...?”

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell, Commander,” she said with a smirk. Kiss? Was that the name for what they’d done? The Andorian looked over at the Vulcans, staring each one down until he reached T’Kosh. Foolishly, he lifted his chin in pride.

She is mine, Andorian. I have claimed her - marked her and felt her lust - which is more than you could ever do.

Eyes widening in surprise, the Commander blinked in disbelief and glanced between the two of them.

“The Vulcan Elder? You have poor taste in men, Lieutenant, but I must say I’m impressed. I’ve never known a Vulcan to express such...passion. You must have provoked him severely. Stay with them, Tholos,” he ordered before he and the others walked out. Now there was only one officer to fight. Those odds were better than what Sub-commander T’Pol had assumed. She thought two would remain in the chamber with them. One was much easier to overcome.

However, that officer was much too close to his ashaya. Protectiveness roared within him as Tholos began to walk a circuit around her.

“Was he good for you? Or would you prefer a truly passionate mate?” He muttered, and T’Kosh felt his rage simmer. The Lieutenant seemed calm, though, so he restrained himself. “I doubt he could appreciate your scent as I do.”

“Somethin’ sure smells,” Tucker muttered, and Tholos turned to him with ire.

“Did you say something, pink skin?” After a few moments, the Andorian returned to his pacing. “I wonder how different your mating rituals are? Vulcan women force their men to fight to the death for them. Would you like me to kill someone for you?”

A dark, instinctive part of T’Kosh screamed for him to tear Tholos’s head off. He hadn’t even realized he’d taken a step forward until a member of his order grabbed his upper arms and held him back. Tholos gave him a dark smile before turning back to the Lieutenant.

“Would you like me to kill him?”

“To be honest, I’d rather you shut up,” she said, but when the Andorian went to reply, an explosion sounded from the atrium. Without hesitation, the Lieutenant hit him in the jaw with a right hook that knocked him flat on his back. She then kicked his weapon from his grasp, allowing the Captain to pick it up and stun him. Strong, protective, fierce mate!

While the Captain, T’Pol, and the Lieutenant went to the catacombs to chase the Andorians with Sulok in tow, T’Kosh realized that if they were successful he might not have much time left with her. There was no way that he could go with her, and her staying at the monastery was equally impossible. With an ache in his chest that he’d not felt so intensely before, T’Kosh retrieved a piece of paper and the blanket the two of them had shared the night before.

Tucking the note and one other small item into the blanket, he enveloped them securely so that they would not fall out during the trip back to Enterprise.

Then he settled in to wait for the Humans to reemerge. As he did, one of the monks stood by his side. Another Elder like T’Kosh, but his junior in relative rank.

“I assume you realize what you have done, osu?”

T’Kosh nodded his head ruefully.

“I do. I regret nothing but the necessity of my departure,” he murmured. “I will remain for a few days to settle you into my position...and to attempt to regain my balance, but...I will do what my transgression demands.”

“Vulcan will be much improved by your return.”

“No. I will be nothing more than an added disgrace,” T’Kosh said quietly. “But...she is worth the sacrifice.”

“We have known each other many years, and I believe you are overlooking something crucial,” the monk began, and T’Kosh looked at him with a single raised eyebrow. “To leave for hatred or ambition is to leave in disgrace. To leave for love? For that, you cannot be faulted. If she is the one who finally gave your katra its missing piece, then you are to be congratulated.”

Kind words did nothing to change the situation. In a few days, T’Kosh would be back on Vulcan having broken his vows. Even in disgrace, though, he could never regret being in such intimate contact with such a lovely woman. And he wouldn’t simply shove aside his feelings, even if he might never see her again.

--

By the time the Andorians had left and the Captain had led us back to the surface, I’d gained a few new bruises and scrapes. Not to mention the guilt roiling in my gut about having been forced to enter the reliquary when it was so obviously off-limits. T’Kosh would understand, though, wouldn’t he? After all, if he knew about the sensor array and had lied about it for the good of his people, then surely he’d understand why we’d done as we had...right?

If he didn’t, then would he regret what we’d done in the catacombs because of this?

When we reached the room we’d been kept in, though, it was almost empty. The majority of the monks had already left, presumably to resume whatever they had been doing prior to the Andorians’ arrival or to bathe or something. All, except T’Kosh. The Vulcan Elder stood a little straighter when he saw us.

“You people have a lot of nerve,” the Captain groused as he stormed toward the atrium. I knew there were only a few precious seconds that I could steal before I had to catch up on the way to the shuttle. I took up the rear of the group and paused in front of T’Kosh.

“Lieutenant...ashaya, I apologize. I was bound to secrecy. The needs of the many–”

“–outweigh the needs of the few,” I finished with a smile. He looked as though I’d stunned him. “I do know something of Surak’s teachings even if I’m not Vulcan.”

“Is that why you were selected to come to the surface?”

“Among other things, yes,” I murmured as I took a step closer to him. Why was I so nervous? I’d made out with the man in the middle of a dusty tunnel filled with relics and decaying corpses, so why was it that being this close to him in the daylight was making me shake? “T’Kosh, I...I know that Vulcans don’t view attachments the same way that Humans do, but...”

I trailed off and blinked away a few tears. How the hell was I supposed to convey what I needed to in such a short time span?

The tunnels. We hadn’t needed words in the tunnels, yet he seemed to understand every movement I made better than I understood it myself. Throwing caution to the wind, I closed the remaining distance between us and kissed him. Skimming one of my hands down his arm to grasp his fingers, I felt that same warm jolt at the contact that I had before. The quiet moan that he let out against my mouth assured me that he understood. I wasn’t alone in this feeling.

When we finally broke apart, T’Kosh touched his forehead to mine and took a breath as shaky as I felt.

“I wish for you to take this with you,” he said after a long moment, pushing something soft into my hands. “The blanket we shared. Ashaya, though we have not had much time together, every moment with you was a pleasure I thought I would never experience. You are everything I could have ever desired.”

“You’re better than even my best dreams,” I admitted feeling my heart shatter in my chest. I didn’t want to leave him, but I knew I had to. “We’ll find each other again.”

“Of that I have no doubt. Be safe, ashaya,” he looked into my eyes one last time and struggled for the right words. “I...lo...I will miss you.”

What he didn’t say was just as important as what he did. Leaning in and pressing a final soft kiss on his cheek, I gave him a smile.

“The feeling is mutual, T’Kosh.” With that, I released his fingers and clutched the blanket he’d given me close. I expected to be alone when I got to the outer door, but Trip was leaning against the doorframe. “Commander?”

“Cap’n’s pissed off with the Vulcans. Didn’t wanna give him a reason to lose his temper at you just because you wanted to say goodbye,” he said as we both walked quickly toward the shuttle. “I know he’ll be angry at me too, now, but I figured it shouldn’t just be you gettin’ yelled at, y’know?”

I didn’t find T’Kosh’s gift until after we’d dodged the Captain’s temper and returned to the ship. Wrapped carefully in the center of the blanket he’d given me was a small statue of Surak - one that looked old enough that it had to be a relic of some sort - and a handwritten note. The script on the page was in Vuhlkansu, so I went straight to Hoshi’s quarters. She’d looked at me with a mischievous little smile when I explained where it came from, but, mercifully, she didn’t comment.

“Whoever that monk was, he has beautiful handwriting. He couldn’t have made this any easier to read even if he’d typed it up on the computer,” she said as she skimmed it over and typed the translation up on a data PADD. She passed both back over to me a moment later with a smile. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Taking a seat on the sofa beside her, I looked down at the PADD that held what might be the last I’d ever hear from the Vulcan monk I’d...befriended. Was that really the right word for someone I’d fallen asleep on top of and made out with in an ancient tunnel?

Lieutenant, I haven’t sufficient space to convey all that I wish after such a singular experience, so I will be brief. May your curiosity take you far, may logic keep you strong, and may we meet again. When you visit Vulcan, I recommend a hillside half a kilometer west of Mount Tar’Hana. There is a single tree that grows atop its summit. I have watched many sunsets there, and I believe you would find it pleasant. Live long and prosper, my lady. Stay warm. - One Who Wishes To Be Remembered

I didn’t realize I’d started crying until Hoshi wrapped her arms around my shoulders in a gentle hug.

“Yep, I thought it was something like that,” she murmured sympathetically as I hugged her back and sniffled.

That’s when I realized why I wouldn’t forget him. I couldn’t, even if I tried.

**2154 - Three Years Later - Near Mount Tar’Hana, Vulcan**

T’Kosh had a well-ordered routine. He awoke, he meditated, he tended his gardens, and every day at sunset he looked toward the hill not far from his home. The former monk realized that it was most likely an illogical endeavor. There were dozens of reasons - entirely logical reasons - why the Lieutenant might never come to this hill.

He’d only known her for two days. She may not have been able to read the note he’d given her. She might have perished in the Enterprise’s search for the Xindi, despite her name not being registered on the casualty list. But, perhaps the most painful reason of all and, unfortunately, the most likely of them all, as well, was that she’d simply forgotten him.

T’Kosh would never be able to forget her, though. Decades of work in the art of kolinahr had been entirely undone by her in a matter of hours. In the days after the Enterprise’s departure from P’Jem, T’Kosh had attempted to regain control of himself - of his newly-raging passions - but he was right back where he’d begun fifty years before.

This time, though, the primary emotion causing him trouble was not anger as it had been before. Now, it was affection...desire for a woman he would likely never be fortunate enough to encounter again. Obviously, that did not bode well for his next pon farr.

Every time he laid down to rest, he recalled the serenity he felt when she was curled up against him, nuzzling softly into his robes. The soft, sleepy sigh she let out when he placed a steadying arm around her unfailingly sent a sharp, hot pang of longing tearing through him. Even the memory of her scent never truly left him.

Had she ever thought of him the way he thought of her? If she did, was the memory of him as comforting to her as she was to him? Did she dream as sweetly of him as he did of her?

Fool. She is likely mated to a member of her own species by now...one who can offer more than a disgraced former monk ever could.

Despite those doubts, T’Kosh staunchly kept to his evening vigil. He would kneel in his home in the spot where he conducted his meditations, look out the window that faced the hill he’d described to her, and wait. When night fell and darkness blanketed the land again, he would close his eyes and meditate.

This evening was no different. Taking up his usual spot, the disgraced monk knelt and turned his gaze to the hilltop. Patience had always been one of his strengths. That was one of the reasons he’d succeeded at his studies in the art of kolinahr for so long.

Fate, it seemed, had decided that he’d been patient long enough. Just as the sky began to change colors, T’Kosh became aware of a figure ascending the ancient slope toward the gnarled, old tree that grew stubbornly atop its summit.

T’Kosh blinked once, twice, just to ascertain the truth of what his eyes were reporting to him. Someone was there!

His heart raced in his side as he got to his feet. Pulling a robe from its hook by the door in case she became cold in the night air, he hurried out the door and made his way to meet her.

Do not leap to conclusions. That could be anyone in the galaxy. She is not the only one who would climb a hill.

But what reason would anyone else have to visit such a secluded spot as this?

As he followed in the person’s path, he saw that his doubts were unfounded. The visitor was clearly Human, and her pheromones drifted to him on the wind.

The visitor was her.

Ashaya! Parted from me, but reunited!

After three years, she had made it to Vulcan to watch the suns set from the hill near his home. She’d taken a seat beneath the shade of the tree’s branches, clutching gray fabric to her chest. The blanket! She reached into the bag hanging from her shoulder and pulled out a small square frame.

She seemed not to hear his approach. Attempting to make his footfalls louder so that he wouldn’t startle her, T’Kosh approached her, stopping several feet away and sitting in the grass, laying his robe beside him.

He couldn’t take his eyes from her. She was his most impossible dream. When they bid each other farewell in the monastery that day, he knew that though they hoped to see one another again, the chances were slim to none.

But now she was here! T’Kosh was acutely aware of the affection that must be evident in his expression, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when he’d found the one who completed him again. Illogically, he was almost afraid to reach out and touch her. Would she shatter into a million pieces as in his dreams?

Was this a dream? Was he truly awake, or was his subconscious torturing him with what might have been?

After a moment, the Lieutenant wiped a tear from her cheek, sniffled, and looked to her side. Immediately, her eyes widened when she realized she wasn’t alone.

“T’Kosh?” She breathed his name like a prayer as her eyes filled with fresh tears. Sadness? That was not at all the emotion he had hoped to inspire in her. Should he have remained in his home? Before he could react, though, she’d set the frame aside, scrambled over to him, and flung her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder as she wept. Had he been any less in control than he was, the former monk would likely have allowed a few tears to escape as well. As it was, though, he held her securely and nuzzled the side of her head. “I thought I’d never see you again! After the monastery was destroyed, I tried to find out what happened to you, but all Ambassador Soval would tell me was that you’d left the order two months before the attack.”

“You...did not forget me...” he observed rather obviously as he held her close. Gentle, caring, affectionate mate, his emotions screamed, and this time he didn’t silence them immediately. He allowed himself to savor the comfort that her presence gave him. She’d asked a prominent Vulcan about him as if he was a person of importance. She had worried over him. Compassionate, surprising, wonderful, perfect mate!

“Of course not,” she replied with a damp little laugh. Pulling back just far enough to look into his eyes, the Lieutenant gifted him a soft, loving smile. “How could I forget someone who so clearly wished to be remembered?”

His breath caught in his chest. She had been able to translate his note then. Of course she was able to, or she would not be here now to confound you, old fool. T’Kosh swallowed nervously as his arms tightened almost imperceptibly around her.

Don’t let go. Can’t lose her again. Mine...

“The Xindi...I was relieved that your name was not listed amongst the casualties. I grieve with your people over your loss, and...I am proud that you and your crew were able to resolve the situation,” he murmured, and she thanked him quietly. He noticed, then, that she was practically seated in his lap. Lifting her easily in his arms, T’Kosh adjusted his legs to support her more fully and set her back on his thighs, content with how steady she felt now.

“To be honest with you, I would’ve thought that you would have forgotten me a long time ago. Or that you would’ve at least wanted to forget me. After all, everything that happened was our fault. P’Jem is gone because of us, and you...I thought...Soval explained that I’d ruined everything you worked for. I thought you’d hate me...that you wouldn’t want me to come here,” she said looking away with shame and guilt written on her features. T’Kosh couldn’t let that stand. Tilting her chin up as gently as he could muster, he looked into her eyes.

“You and your people could not have known what you’d stumbled into. The High Command should have warned you of our conflict with Andoria. In regards to my kolinahr training, you were not the only reason I left, and...I would not wish to forget you even if you had been sole motivation for my withdrawal from the order,” he admitted, “though, you were the most pleasant reason. I have...ached to hold you since the day we were parted.”

Her eyes widened as if he was a marvel.

“You don’t resent me?”

“Why should I resent the one who completes me?” T’Kosh asked nudging her nose lightly with his. Her lips met his, and he blinked in surprise before allowing his eyelids to flutter closed. He hadn’t experienced this gesture since they were alone in the catacombs, but it was just as pleasant now as it had been three years ago. Memories of the sweet, secret sounds she’d made for him that day flooded T’Kosh’s mind, and he couldn’t hold back a low, rumbling hum of hunger.

Mine...

The moment he pulled back, he missed the contact, and his instincts howled for him to kiss her again. He would - oh he would! T’Kosh would kiss her until she was breathless and dripping, positively aching for his touch, but first he had something important to say. Something that he hadn’t the chance or the right to say all those years ago.

Lifting her hands to cup his cheeks, the Lieutenant looked at him with such open, blinding affection that T’Kosh felt a surge of desire equal only to that which surfaced during the height of the blood fever. She was going to consume what little remained of his logic until all that remained was the beast that all Vulcans struggled so hard all their lives to control. His voice came out as a rough, bedraggled whisper when he finally spoke.

“Taluhk nash-veh k’dular. You...precious being who has stolen my logic from me...I cherish thee with all that I am. My homeworld is made brighter with the addition of your presence. I wish never to be parted from you again.”

She looked surprised, but pleased at his declaration. How could she possibly be surprised? Did she not know that it was entirely logical for him to be so fully devoted to her? Her gaze pierced straight into the center of his being. Could she not see that she was the only one who had ever inspired such strong desires within him? That he would drop to his knees and worship the ground upon which she walked even if it only earned him a moment of her attention?

“Disgraced though I may be, I wish to protect you, to provide for you...to be for you,” he murmured looking into her eyes with reverence. “I am yours, if you will stay...if you will have me.”

He’d barely finished speaking when her mouth met his. Her tears dampened his cheeks as she clung to him.

MINE.

“I want you, T’Kosh. I’ll have you for as long as you allow me to be yours,” she breathed, and his control shattered. Flipping her onto her back in the soft grass, he tangled his fingers with hers, pressed her hands into the grass on either side of her head, and kissed her as well as his lack of practice would allow.

He reveled in the simple, overwhelming pleasure of his mate’s affection.

She is mine! She is finally mine! Cherish her, protect her, mark her, keep her! Mine forever!

She pulled one hand free and buried it in his hair as she had three years prior, and this time, he allowed himself to moan as he kissed his way down her jaw. Pausing over the spot he had marked before, T’Kosh lavished the area with gentle licks and kisses. Soon she would be covered in marks. No one in the galaxy would be able to deny that she had an attentive, devoted mate.

Her hand slid down to his tunic, fumbling with the fastening.

“Every time I looked out at the stars I thought of you...I ached for you,” she admitted as she managed to pull the fabric around his torso loose.

“I am here with you, now. I will give myself to you as many times and in as many ways as you will allow,” he murmured as he sat back on his heels just long enough to finish removing the garment she had so clearly desired off of him. Before the fabric hit the ground, though, she sat up, placing searing kisses down his neck and chest as she grasped his bare shoulders. T’Kosh’s mouth dropped open in a silent gasp.

This was certainly not his first sexual encounter, but after being immersed in his studies of pure logic, her every touch felt like fire swirling through him and settling squarely in his throbbing lok.

Cupping the back of her head, T’Kosh slipped his fingers into her hair and gently pulled her back. Her pupils were dilated in hunger, and she was looking at him as though he was a meal. How could such a simple, animalistic expression rob him of his thoughts? His breathing was heavy and labored from the effort of forcing himself to go slowly. He would go carefully. She deserved–

“There were nights where I dreamed of the catacombs. I wandered alone, and the bodies came alive, but you...you saved me every time,” she murmured as if confessing to a crime. “And I’d try to thank you...to show you how grateful I was. You’d kiss me and bite me just like you did three years ago, and each time I woke up so close to an orgasm that I had no choice...”

“Tell me,” T’Kosh ordered, but he knew what she was going to say before she replied.

“I used my fingers...I thought of you...” Her voice was barely above a whisper as her hands slid down to the front of his pants. She didn’t dare continue without his permission, though.

“And did thinking of me bring about a pleasurable conclusion?” When she whispered ‘yes, osu,’ T’Kosh dipped his head and rewarded her honesty with a kiss. As lovely as it would have been to be there to hear her moan, he was about to make her scream for him. “I will satisfy your every desire. Every millimeter of you will be surrounded by my love for you.”

He had not been able to say it when they parted, and his lack of expression had haunted his nightmares. He had been afraid that they would not meet again - that he would not have an opportunity to rectify that mistake.

That she would live the rest of her life unaware of how much he adored her.

Looking into her eyes, T’Kosh cupped her cheeks. She was as breathtaking as she had been before. He could see how exhaustion and fear had weighed upon her over the years, but he intended to smooth her worries away and replace them with pleasure. Turning to the side, he spread his extra robe over the ground then lifted her easily onto it. Their fingers went for her shirt at the same time, and both their remaining clothes were soon no more than discarded fabric littering the hilltop.

He was busy nibbling a mark onto her neck when her nimble little fingers wrapped around his lok and made him snarl against her skin. He caught her wrists and brought them to his lips, giving her a dark, hungry expression. Instead of fear, though, he found desire that matched his own.

“I wish to be gentle, but I am not above claiming you in the manner which you are attempting to provoke.” A mischievous smirk crossed her lips at his warning, but she nodded her head. Laying on his back atop the spare robe, T’Kosh pulled her over him and urged her forward so that her dripping center rested above his mouth.

“T’Kosh, wha-oh!” She broke off with a yelp of pleasure as he began feasting upon the sweetness that had spread down her thighs. The sharp memory of the catacombs flashed through his mind, and he realized that this was the gush of pheromones he’d detected when he’d bitten her.

She’d been dripping on sacred ground with Andorian soldiers mere feet away.

For him.

Because of his actions.

With a growl, T’Kosh abandoned any delicacy he’d been able to retain and pulled her thighs down harder over his face. If he was smothered this way, he would be content to drown in his lady’s pleasure. The Lieutenant moaned, making his lok throb where it rested hard and ready on his stomach. She tried to brace herself with one hand on his chest and the other tangled in his hair, which suited T’Kosh’s inner beast perfectly.

Yes, fall apart for me, become weak for me! I will take care of you! I will look after you and ensure your pleasure!

Within moments she shattered over his tongue, and a fresh wave of her slick covered the lower half of his face. With her scent marking him as hers, T’Kosh luxuriated in the feeling of her trembling above him and whimpering his name.

With a final long stroke of his tongue between her folds, T’Kosh carefully flipped her onto her back and lifted her legs in his grasp. He knew that he must look utterly savage with his hair all mussed and her essence dripping down his chin onto his neck and chest, but he was on a mission. Admiring how her inner thighs glistened while she was spread open for him, T’Kosh met her blissfully pliant gaze with one of hunger.

“You seem quite prepared for me, little one,” he murmured turning his head far enough to nip at her ankle. “Would you prefer that I take you now or shall I give you a demonstration of my prowess?”

“Do as you wish, my love,” she crooned, and the former monk pressed her legs together, laying her ankles against his shoulder. He rubbed the tip of his lok against her dripping cleft then moved upwards just far enough to push himself between her slicked up thighs. His length was squeezed deliciously between her soft skin, pulling a moan from deep in his throat. When his hips rested flush against the backs of her legs, T’Kosh looked down to see his tip peeking through the other side of her limbs. “Fuck...you might split me in half.”

Her awe-filled whisper forced his hips into movement. He had imagined what it might be like to give her a show like this, but he never thought he’d actually get the chance. He’d been so tightly wound for so long that he assumed he’d lose control much earlier. Thrusting slowly, T’Kosh gave her a molten stare.

“I will endeavor to bring you as much pleasure you can take and more,” he promised before biting her calf muscle. The sound of wet skin slapping together filled the air, and after a few moments of this exquisite torture, the Lieutenant pulled away.

Fear gripped T’Kosh’s mind. Had he done something wrong? He’d just opened his mouth to ask when she laid on her stomach in front of him and took his lok in her mouth.

A devastated groan escaped him as her eyes met his. Such innocence didn’t belong in the expression of someone so adept at giving pleasure. He could feel her dexterous, devious little tongue swirling around his tip and pressing against his veins as her hand massaged the rest.

He didn’t want her to overtax herself with this - he should be the one worshiping her - but as he watched her, he realized that she was enjoying this. There was no sign of strain in her countenance, only pure, sensual bliss.

“You are making it very difficult for me to restrain myself,” he warned. Her hands took the place of her mouth, stroking his length as she looked up at him with mischief dancing in her eyes.

“What if I don’t want you to?”

“Do not tempt me,” T’Kosh ordered, but it felt like more of a plea. He wanted to be rougher - oh, he wanted to - but she deserved his tenderness and devotion after waiting so long.

“Please, T’Kosh...osu...”

Something in him snapped, and he flipped his lover onto her hands and knees. He tried to be careful as he penetrated her for the first time, and once he was in to the hilt, he set a fast, merciless pace. His ashaya shouted in pleasure, rocking herself back to meet his thrusts as one of his hands settled lightly around her throat.

“Perfect mate! I can feel you stretching to accommodate me. Yes, take me!”

The two lost themselves in the sensation of filling and being filled. Time was no more. The universe was narrowed to the two of them and the intimacy of their joining atop a hill in Vulcan’s remote countryside. She called for him countless times, and he was there to answer every one without fail. He was with her. He was hers. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

“T’Kosh, please...”

Her voice was high and breathy, making his beast sing.

“Anything you wish...name it and it’s yours...” he crooned nuzzling the nape of her neck as he pounded into her. She was close. They both were.

“Fill me. Let me feel you come inside me. Please,” she whimpered as her walls fluttered around him. T’Kosh groaned in pleasure and gripped her hips hard enough to bruise as he thrust into her. His composure abandoned him entirely as she screamed his name for all of Vulcan to hear. The former monk was no more than a wild man as he frantically chased his own end inside his mate. With a roar, he spilled inside her feeling complete for the first time in his life.

Wrapping his arms around his lover’s waist, he felt words slipping past his lips.

“Parted...from me...but never parted...never and always...touching and t-touched...” His forehead rested against the back of her neck. Pulling carefully out of her and easing her into his lap, T’Kosh spoke quietly. “Ashaya, I wish to be bonded with you...to pledge myself to you for the rest of my life and swear that my katra will seek yours when that life has ended.”

Exhausted, she laid soft kisses across his jaw.

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll be bonded,” she said as easily as if she was commenting on the suns which had now disappeared to reveal the dark swath of night sky that T’Kosh loved.

“You’re certain that you wish the same thing?” A quiet, gentle laugh poured from her throat at his question.

“Of course I am. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me, remember?”

Oh, did he remember. They stayed there a few moments longer - just until T’Kosh’s legs could support them both. Then he gathered their clothes and placed them in her bag. Picking up the blanket and the little frame she’d been holding, he paused.

“Was a hastily scrawled note truly worth the expense of a frame?” He asked as he saw his own handwriting glaring up at him from beneath the glass. Soft arms wrapped themselves around his still-nude waist.

“It was, because it was from the man I love.”

The sweet earnestness with which she spoke brought tears to T’Kosh’s eyes. He blinked them back and turned to kiss his soon-to-be wife.

“Come, ashaya. Let us go home.”

~*~*~

Vulcan Words:

t’sai = lady (polite form of address)

ashaya = love

osu = sir (polite form of address)

[pers-books]

Canceled Doctor Who Series Makes The Best Disney+ Spinoff Idea Way More Likely

BY MARK DONALDSON

The cancelation of a long-running Doctor Who series on expanded media makes a popular Disney+ spinoff idea an increasingly likely possibility. Since Doctor Who's global streaming deal with the Walt Disney Corporation was announced, fans have eagerly anticipated a raft of spinoffs to rival the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Russell T Davies has repeatedly stated his own vision for Doctor Who in a post-MCU world, seeing the show's potential as a big sci-fi franchise comprising the parent show and multiple spinoffs. There is a persistent rumor that a UNIT spinoff led by Kate Stewart (Jemma Redgrave) will follow Ncuti Gatwa's first Doctor Who season and now another beloved character could also get their own show.

Audio production company Big Finish has announced that the Alex Kingston-led The Diary of River Song will end with season 10, released in August 2023. The series began in 2015 and has depicted Professor River Song's adventures through time and space, pairing her up with past incarnations of the Doctor and various old enemies, too. It's been a well-received series for Big Finish which begs the question of why it's ending. It could be something as simple as former E.R. star Alex Kingston's work commitments, or it could hint that a River Song spinoff is in the works for Disney+.

River Song's Series Ending Teases A Doctor Who Spinoff On Disney+

The Diary of River Song season 1 was released on Christmas Day 2015, just minutes after her final appearance in Doctor Who. While it could be purely coincidental, River Song's Big Finish series ending just months before Doctor Who begins streaming on Disney+ feels important. In terms of the modern series, Big Finish generally uses Doctor Who characters after their time on the show has ended. For example, they'll launch spinoff series for both The Fugitive Doctor (Jo Martin) and The Master (Sacha Dhawan) later in 2023. Having characters' audio adventures run concurrently with their on-screen counterparts is generally frowned upon as part of Big Finish's deal with the BBC.

During Russell T Davies' first Doctor Who era, he was in regular contact with Big Finish as they tried to avoid overlaps with story ideas and monsters. It's likely that this relationship will still be the same in RTD's new Doctor Who era, raising interesting questions about the timing of the River Song series ending. The best River Song episodes always feel like the Doctor is guest starring in somebody else's show, so her own TV series is long overdue. The new Disney+ era of Doctor Who could finally realize this long-held dream of River Song fans, and the ending of her Big Finish series feels like a cleaning of the slate.

A River Song Spinoff Must Avoid The Biggest Mistake With Her Character

Although it was the idea of River Song's creator Steven Moffat, The Diary of River Song's reliance on her interacting with past Doctors reduced the character slightly. Rather than being a time traveling archaeologist with dubious morals, River was defined as being the Doctor's future wife. Later entries in the series addressed this problem and sent River to investigate archeological mysteries and stride out in the universe on her own. This is exactly what the tone of a River Song-led Doctor Who spinoff on Disney+ should be.

A gun-toting, time traveling archeologist adventuring through time and space is a great pitch for a TV show. It's rumored that Steven Moffat is back for Doctor Who season 14, so it wouldn't be at all surprising if he and Russell T Davies has discussed the prospect of what a River Song spinoff would look like. This, combined with the surprise ending for her Big Finish series hints at exciting times to come for River Song.

[coffeeheartaddict2]

Who are you?

Book: Open Heart (Pre-series AU)

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Harper Emery, Ethan Ramsey F!OC Estelle Campion

Word count: 1205

Warnings: sexual content, language

Category: Angsty smut

Rating: Mature

Summary: Ethan reconnects with an old flame at an event for his book, for one night, upon his return to Edenbrook he takes things further with Harper, only to have things change on a dime.

Disclaimer: Some Characters belong to Pixelberry. Part of this story is based on the Addison Shepherd scene from Grey’s anatomy.

Authors note: this is another submission for the @choicesprompts rewrite event. This is based on the scene where Dr Addison Shepherd makes herself known and we find out Derek is married. There will be some differences.

😮😮😮😮😮😮😮😮😮

November 2012 New York.

Dr Ethan Ramsey was exhausted. He had a successful launch of his book in Boston but now there was a tour. He was surprised at how well the book had been received. He had only being an attending for a relatively short time so he was expecting some blow back from that but it never came. He was about ready to leave the party when a familiar voice from his past said

“My my, some things do not change.”

“Estelle?”

He turns around and it is her. She had not changed since she graduated from Hopkins.

“Good to see you Ethan and congratulations on the book” she said giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Good to see you Estelle, I must admit I am surprised to see you.”

“Why, I know we have not seen each other since Hopkins…”

“Well when we broke up, you were angry at me.”

“I was but I did feel you were letting your past dictate your future. I understood why but I was still annoyed.”

“And if I persisted and we did not work out?”

“Yeah I can see how you think that would be worse.”

“It did not help that you dated Tobias so soon after too. I did doubt if you did truly love me.”

Estelle winces, the memories of even more fights and what ensued with Tobias after flashed through her mind.

“That was purely rebound on my part.”

“And yet Tobias refused to believe that, he blamed me for you not loving him.”

“I did not mean for it to be messy.”

“I do regret some of what I said to you. Tobias’s actions were not your fault or mine.”

“I heard about the final year.”

A flash of anger flashes across his face. “He took the whole if I can not have it nor can you routine too far. Thankfully his behaviour did not cost me Edenbrook.”

“And look how well you flourished.”

“You have done well too.”

“Langdone is treating me well. Surprisingly.”

“I was surprised you went to New York given the proximity to some of the family members.”

“I know right but Langdone was what I wanted to do most.”

“I am happy for you Estelle. Truly”

“Me too Ethan.” Says Estelle as she puts her hand on Ethan’s.

Ethan smiles and they decide to go to the Hotel Ethan is staying at for a night cap. One drink turned into a couple and subtle hand touches turned into a yearning for something more. They got up and when they hugged they instead kissed.

“Did you want to come up to my room?”

Estelle kisses her answer. They catch the lift up, the trip up is mercifully quick and they make their way to his room.

The kisses by now are hot and heavy and once they are in the room Ethan slams the door shut and pushes Estelle against it. He unzips her dress and kisses his way down her body, laying waste to her bra, he lavished attention to her breasts. His hand moves to her centre and Estelle is drenched. She moans at the contact. Ethan makes his way down. He teases her and then he slowly runs his tongue around her swollen numb before entering.

“Fuck, how have you improved” moaned Estelle.

Ethan grunts his approval at that comment and that sent yet another pleasant sensation through her. Before long Ethan has her on the precipice. With a final flick of his tongue, Estelle falls screaming.

After she recovers she walks Ethan to the bed.

“This is only for tonight yeah?”

Ethan nods in agreement.

“Now that is sorted, how about we fuck each other into oblivion?”

Ethan kisses her hungrily. They enjoy multiple, euphoric rounds and both fall into a very blissful sleep.

Estelle wakes first, wondering if the night before was a dream but when she turns her head she sees Ethan there. She had always enjoyed sex with Ethan but last night was next level, maybe because it was for one night only. A part of her always wanted one last night with him before she graduated. Ethan stirred.

“Good morning” he says, his voice still laced with sleep.

“Thank you for last night.”

“It was fantastic wasn’t it.”

Estelle blushes. We may never work out romantically but at least we will have some much better memories to remember us by now.”

“I agree,” says Ethan as he gets up and puts on some pants. “I had always hoped we could be friends.”

Estelle smiled. “Me too. So despite last night, friends then.”

“Most definitely.”

They got dressed and had breakfast, thankful for the closure and new friendship.

The book tour ended and he was back in Boston. Work was busy but he was sure to make time for Dr Harper Emery. Neurosurgeon fellow. They had enjoyed a great friendship but both were apprehensive of taking that next step. Buoyed by the confidence of his encounter with Estelle he asked Harper on an official first date. It was a lovely night and they decided to be a couple. Things were great, their friendship creating a solid foundation for a romantic relationship.

About eight weeks after that encounter Estelle was at home, again exhausted. She had been more exhausted of late and now she was concerned. Concerned that her “one final night” with Ethan had consequences. She did the test. It was positive. She did not know what to do. They had agreed to be friends sure, but being pregnant. This was a game changer. She knew Ethan had a right to know but decided to wait a little bit.

Meanwhile things were going great between Harper and Ethan, even being public was enjoyable. Naveen was happy that Ethan had not closed himself off to a romantic relationship and he really liked Harper too. He was sure that they would be a long term item and that both of them would still go on to do great things with their careers.

A few weeks after doing the test and getting up the courage Estelle makes the trip to Boston. She was anxious. She kept an open mind, any choices at what was to happen. She felt it unfair to have no input from Ethan and he was the father, it seemed callous to not include him. So she made the journey to Boston and to Edenbrook to break the news.

Ethan was waiting in the Atrium. He had finished his shift a few hours ago but he stayed back, waiting for Harper. Harper made it down, she greeted Ethan with a kiss. They were about to walk out, arm in arm when Ethan heard his name. Ethan stopped and looked around. Then he saw Estelle.

“Who is this?” Asked Harper

“I am Dr Estelle Campion. A friend of Ethan’s.”

“Dr Harper Emery, Dr Ramsey’s girlfriend.”

Estelle was shocked and felt her resolve waiver, she did not want to hurt this woman or Ethan but her desire to allow Ethan sat in this matter won out.

“I am also carrying Dr Ramsey’s unborn child.” She said.

The colour drains from Ethan’s face. Whilst Harper looks on in shock.

———

Authors note:

Not even sorry for ending there but the scene I rewriting for the event ends on a cliffhanger so why not written form?

A note: most of you are aware that Hopkins girl in my world was very different with neither Ethan nor Tobias being friends with her. In this reality Estelle liked Ethan from the get go and was patient given how he was reluctant to enter a relationship. Tobias fell hard and was jealous of their relationship. They have. Discussion about Residency as Estelle is in the year above them. Ethan was not sure what he was feeling so when Estelle said I love you he could not say it back. Estelle was understanding but Ethan ended it, stating if they persisted then it would be messy. Estelle was upset. About a month later at a party Tobias shoots his hot and scores, Estelle was looking for nothing serious. Tobias seemed to accept it but wanted to change her mind which he was unsuccessful at. Estelle still spoke to Ethan and he was pissed that she was with Tobias but as time went on she ended it and was on better terms with Ethan. Tobias was ropable and blamed Ethan for the break up, even though the break up was because they both wanted different things. This caused a schism and the final year toxicity that marked the end of Ethan and Tobias. Estelle was not lying, she wanted to be friends with Ethan but kept away as she did not want to get caught up anymore in the drama that was them.

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