#objective C to swift

[mobcoderr]

Swift vs Objective-C: The Guide for Your iOS App Development Project

In the diverse landscape of iOS app development, the foundation of your success often lies in the programming language you choose. Whether you're an established iOS app development company or an ambitious entrepreneur seeking top-notch iOS app development services, the choice between Swift and Objective-C is pivotal. Each language boasts a distinct personality and a set of advantages tailored for different scenarios. Swift, Apple's modern prodigy, entices with its sleek syntax and performance prowess. Objective-C, the seasoned veteran, offers stability and legacy compatibility.

Original Source - https://blog.mobcoder.com/swift-vs-objective-c-the-guide-for-your-ios-app-development-project/

[sabelacarsonsblog]

Native Mobile App Development vs Hybrid App Development. What You Should Choose for Your Next Project?

Explore the pros and cons of native mobile app development and hybrid app development in this comprehensive guide. Make an informed choice for your next project based on factors like performance, user experience, and development efficiency.

[folkwhoreberry]

can u pls write some luke castellan smut where the reader is overstimulated but he won’t stop? pretty pls?

Love On The Brain

luke castellan x reader

or... the one where he’s doing his thing

word count : 564

warning : pure filth lolsies, oral (f receiving), piv, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, tummy bulge, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : love on the brain by rihanna

🗡️🪽

luke doesn’t eat pussy.

nah, he fucking devours it.

as of right now, his tongue was plunged deep inside you, nose hitting your over-sensitive clit with each move of his head.

“agh… l-luke, fuck…” you muttered under your breath, your back arching off the mattress as your hand tugged on his hair. you felt him smirk into your core before his chuckle vibrated through you from your cunt.

“want more, baby?” he asked you in that low, teasing tone that always made you shiver. looking down at him from where he was between your legs, his mouth and chin glistening with your juices from previous orgasms, the sight making you nod absentmindedly.

his smirk only widened at that, quickly sitting up on his knees and grabbing your hips, flipping you over to lay on your stomach with your face in the pillow and hips raised to his liking, making you yelp at the swift motion.

without any warning, you felt him entering you, his tip hitting your deepest spit in one thrust. “l-luke!” you tried to object, your words coming out muffled into the pillow. “ssh… just let me do my thing, yeah princess?” he said before thrusting back inside you, his hips hitting yours with each one, the sound of skin slapping filling the room.

one of his hands moved over from your hip to between your legs, snaking around your waist and reaching down to your clit, rubbing it with his fingers in a speed that made your curl your toes.

you couldn’t even properly speak at this point, too overstimulated to be able to think coherently, plus the pillow your face was shoved into muffling your voice.

you soon came, legs shaking as he rocked his hips slowly as you went down from your high. just as you sighed in relief you felt his hips snapping back into you, his still hard dick hitting your g-spot easily once again.

“n-no, c-can’t…” you managed to mumble out, a quiet plea that was quickly followed by luke’s soft cooing and yet another hard thrust. “no, ‘s fine, baby’s you can for me, princess.”

you couldn’t help but moan into the pillow, his hips continuing to rock into you, his tip grazing your cervix and probably bruising it. you came again after less than two minutes, his movements slowing down again to sooth you before he went right back into it again, making you cry out into the pillow at how sensitive you were down there. at a moment of pity, luke stopped rubbing you clit and instead rubbed your hair gently, trying to sooth you after the intense orgasms he put you through.

“aww, poor baby… I promise I’ll stop, yeah? but just one more for me…” he said before yet again starting to thrust into you, his hand leaving your hair in favour of holding your lower tummy instead, were his cock was bulging from inside of you. he let out a groaned at that, feeling himself through you as he rocked himself in and out of you in a fast pace. “feel that, princess? that’s me,” he said teasingly, his voice low as he pressed his fingers against the bulge in your abdomen, the extra stimulating being way too much for you to bare and made you moan loudly and cry out again into the pillow.

yeah, he’s a fucking menace.

————————————————————————————

© all rights reserved to folkwhoreberry. no stealing or copying will be tolerated.

a/n : whoopsies I got a little 🤏 too into this haha 💔

[starkspondwater]

I Want To Know You- Kyle Broflovski x Insecure!Shy!Reader

Part 1 x , Part 3 x, Part 4 x

It's the Monday after the party, and all Kyle wants is to talk to the girl that's been on his mind all weekend

a/n: Hey hi! This is a fluffy continuation of Party Game Kisses, also manically written during a boring day at work.

Spanish translation by @glitterycollectivestudent here on wattpad

SFW and a little fluffy!

Walking through the hallways of school that next Monday felt…odd to you. You had attended your first (and probably only) party and had not only spoken to the object of your little heart’s unsung affection, but had your first kiss with him too! All of that you could allow yourself to feel good about, it wasn’t as though anyone would actually be able to know or tell that all of that had happened. You were pretty sure those among the circle spinning the bottle were too drunk to care anyhow. Today, however, you felt as though there were eyes on you, despite the fact that glancing around showed no one’s stares. Taking a swift detour into the bathroom, you peered into one of the mirrors looking for anything that might be cause for concern.

(H/C) shoved into a clip and a mostly bare face stared back at you. Eyes looking down, you saw that your clothes looked fine as well. As far as you knew, there was nothing out of place. Perhaps you were growing paranoid with all the increased activity, which means surely it would go away as things settled.

Walking into homeroom and slinging your bag down by your seat, you settled in for the morning. Chatter filled the air as student’s filed in with the warning bell ringing overhead, one in particular caught your eye of course. Strolling in with his group of friends was Kyle Broflovski, his familiar green hat perched atop his head and a stray ginger curl poking out at one side. This was normal, seeing him in the mornings and getting the usual butterflies. What wasn’t normal was him looking directly back at you, a small smile on his face nearly causing you to choke on your own spit. A warm flush crossed your cheeks as you quickly looked away. To your horror, this did not just happen once, but three separate times throughout the half hour you spent there. Every time you glanced over, you were met with green eyes looking back. ‘What in the hell is happening?’ you thought, trying to keep your cool.

Alternatively, Kyle felt over the moon! The morning after the party he had decided to look up the shy girl that had captured his interest, surprised to find that you both were already facebook friends. ‘I might have a little social media problem if I can’t even recall who I'm friends with…’ but the thought quickly got shoved to the back of his mind as he clicked on your profile. 

Your profile picture was a simple shot of you at some family event, he assumed, smile pointed at the camera waiting to be captured. Scrolling, he saw a few pictures you had posted of books you were reading, good food, and of some things around town, normal things one would expect on any profile. To his growing surprise (which really, he knew little to nothing about you. Everything is a surprise at this point) he saw a few game related memes shared with you as well as some of your comments on them. So you liked games, he smiled at the thought, happy to find something in common with you at least! 

This Monday Kyle had a mission. He really wanted to talk with you and maybe possibly sort of gauge your interest in him. After all, it wouldn’t do to just humiliate himself in front of a girl he liked…again. He found you easily that morning, his tall form allowing him to see you flitting between bustling students as you made your way around. He really could not understand how he hadn’t noticed you like this before, at least to this extent. Your hips swung as you walked, bringing out curves that you seemed to try to hide behind a baggy jacket. He quickly recalled just how those curves felt under his hands days before, he knew just what you were hiding. Following the rest of his classmates into the room, he met your eyes, and to his glee, you blushed.

He didn’t even care about the guys ripping on him later, he was enamored. In between times he did manage to meet your gaze you looked so thoughtful, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth and bringing back memories of how plush and soft they felt against his own. When the bell rang he stood and turned with the intent to hopefully speak to you, only to see a completely empty seat. This…might be harder than he thought.

Despite having short legs, you made quick work of getting to your next class. With every breath, embarrassment filled your lungs as you tried to calm down. You had been caught more than once staring, and each time a smile graced his lips. He must’ve thought it funny, you were sure, kissing the little invisible girl and then catching her making eyes at him in class was sure to bring a laugh to any of those guys. Shame wanted to rise up into your belly but as the bell rang and the teacher began to speak, you buckled in for 45 minutes of history and shoved down your anxious thoughts.

“So are you going to tell me why you were practically gawking at (Y/N) this morning?” Kenny sat beside Kyle in 3rd period and was not about beating around the bush. Kyle, for all his confidence in dealing with his friends, actually looked bashful, scratching the back of his neck.

“I just thought she was pretty is all-”

“Oh yeah, those sweater puppies are something, huh! What do you think, she a double D or something?”

“Kenny!” Kyle’s red face shut up the blond who was midway to cupping his own hands to his chest. “We talked a bit at Clyde’s party and I just think she’s nice…”

“Who?” Stan leaned back in his seat, head tilted to better see the other two. Despite the warning glare from Kyle, Kenny put on his best shit-eating grin and answered the raven haired boy.

“(Y/N), that girl Kyle keeps trying to penetrate with his eyes-” “Kenny!” Kyle slammed his head down on his desk as his two friends laughed, lightly chatting across his head.

By lunch, Kyle was beginning to think you were avoiding him. Being tall has its advantages, and searching over a sea of people flooding the hall he spotted you quickly. Yet, within seconds, it kept seeming as though you were…actively fleeing? Everyone had to eat, though, and his gaze wandered over the cafeteria with purpose.

“She won’t be in here.” Stan’s voice broke his concentration.

“Huh?” Kyle felt his ears heat up at being caught. Stan knew he might be chewed out for helping his friend and ‘telling his business,’ as the red head would put it, regardless of how good the information was. So be it, he thought.

“I just thought you might want to talk to her is all, so I asked around. Wendy said she normally eats in the library.” Kyle said nothing, stuck between betrayal at Stan and excitement to see you. He sighed, it wouldn’t do to lose his temper at this point, no matter the reason.

The library was silent, devoid of the usual light chatter of students studying or hanging out. Kyle kept his steps light, something telling him that you were easily spooked like a deer. The tables that sat in the open area of the large room were completely empty as well as the small closed off computer room attached to one wall. Disappointment was an understatement for how he felt. He at least wanted to say a simple “hello,” or “how are you?” but he messed that up entirely. Just as he passed the last row of shelves, something caught his attention, making him back pedal a few steps. There, sitting on the floor in the corner, a book in one hand and a small sandwich in the other, was you.

Kyle slowly approached, though it became apparent you would not notice him at all, too engrossed in the bound world in front of you. He observed you for a minute, taking in every detail from your small hands that somehow deftly maneuvered your book as you ate, to the way your eyes devoured the words on the page, and again how you kept biting your bottom lip. Crouching down, he softly said “Hey.”

You yelped, dropping both your book onto the floor and your sandwich into your lap. Eyes wide, you stared at the boy in front of you that looked just as shocked as you with your outburst.

“Oh God, shit, I- I didn’t mean to scare you!” Kyle looked panicked as he tried to fix the situation. Looking down, he picked up the discarded book, his own hands making it look much smaller than it had looked within your own. He briefly thought about how it may feel to hold them before he took a big breath, gingerly offering you the book. “I just wanted to say hi.” 

“Hi,” you gently took the book, hugging it to your chest. “I’m sorry, I just don’t normally, uh, see anyone in here at lunch.” You fiddled a bit with the edges of the pages as you spoke.

“It can get pretty noisy in the cafeteria, I get it,” Kyle chuckled, and a pleasant feeling filled your chest. “What are you reading?” He sat back, crossing his legs. This startled you for a moment, he could see that, but thankfully, you kept speaking.

“It’s just an old fantasy book, like one of the cheesy ones from the 90’s or something,” you said, holding out the cover for him to see. It honestly looked like something one would find painted onto the side of a van, making him grin. “It’s not bad though, just kind of a fun read.”

“It looks fun,” Kyle said, trying to wrack his brain for what to say in order to keep you talking. “Do you…Do you normally read fantasy?” At this you perked up.

“I do, but I like to try other genres when I can…” and to Kyle's delight, you spent the rest of lunch talking to him.

At the end of the day, the green capped teen cornered you at your locker.

“Hey, I really enjoyed lunch,” he said shyly.

“I did too,” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and flushed. “You could eat with me again…if you’d like?” You swore your heart stopped beating as he beamed at you.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something…” glancing back at his friends Kyle saw Stan give him a quick thumbs up while Kenny wildly motioned for him to keep talking to you. Cartman, to his credit, just raised an eyebrow instead of shouting something to embarrass his ginger friend. “I was going to get tickets to that new movie for Friday…would you want to see it with me?” With each word his face grew more and more red, and by the end was just starting to hide the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

It took you a moment to realize that he was asking you on a date. A funny feeling settled on the bottom of your stomach and all you could think was Why?  He was leagues above you, which you thought you established with him the other night. You weren’t anything special, you rarely talked to anyone in class, and hell, you didn’t even think he knew your name before Saturday night. 

“Why me?” your voice felt small, as though trapped in a cage within your throat. At his confused expression, you pressed on. “I’m sure you remember what I said at the party…when we were in the closet, y’know, when we…” you trailed off. Understanding filled Kyle's features before he took on a look of determination.

“I find you incredibly interesting…and pretty. Really, really pretty. I was actually looking for you at lunch, that’s why I was in the library. I wanted to get to know you more…” You looked up with wide eyes. The tall boy in front of you just called you pretty. This boy, who played sports, who had so many friends, who was funny and witty, who could have any girl here, wanted to get to know you.

“Uh, then yes!  Yes I would like to go out with you.” Your face might have felt on fire, but it still split into a wide smile, matching Kyle’s.

“Awesome! I’ll pick you up at 7!” and with that he turned and sauntered off to his friends.

“Nice, dude!” Stan patted his shoulder while Kenny whooped, muffled by his parka. Kyle felt on cloud 9 until Cartman spoke up.

“Did you even get her number, Jew?” he said with a smirk, causing Kyle to immediately freeze. “Thought so, dumbass.” The other two boys laughed as Kyle sheepishly made his way back to you, rectifying his mistake. He couldn’t feel too bad though, he had a date!

[sc0tters]

Flights and Fights | Matthew Tkachuk

summary: after a week of radio silence Matthew wants to show you how much he missed you.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, oral (fem receiving), p in v, swearing.

word count: 1.94k

author note: okay so soft couple sex is officially not my thing. But this was actually sort of cute. Let’s keep Matty requests to a minimum though until he learns how to use his mouthguard 🫶

This week was rough on the both of you.

It was stupid but after the fight you two had just before his week long road trip started. Usually you two would have communicated during his time away but you were both stubborn and swore that the other was wrong. You had a business trip to Kenya coming up in July and wanted your boyfriend to come with you. But Matthew wanted to stay home and spend that week at his families lake house, when neither one of you backed down it caused the biggest fight of your three year relationship to come out with Matthew walking out of the front door and he hasn’t been home since.

You were both far too stubborn to call once during the week so you were stuck in radio silence until he got home.

The apartment was quiet was the soft sounds of Taylor Swift came from the kitchen. Matthew dropped his bags by the door as his feet took him to noise where he was met with the sight of you swaying your hips along to the music.

A total sight for sore eyes as your back continued to face him as you wore his old shirt that looked like it should have been a dress.

He leaned against the doorframe taking in the view before he made his way in smiling to himself “hey baby.” Matthew mumbled wrapping his hands around your waist.

You kept quiet as you continued to focus on your lunch that you were cooking “please acknowledge me.” He whined leaning down to kiss your neck but you stopped him as you picked your shoulder up pressing it against your neck.

It began to frustrate the boy as he furrowed his eyebrows “I’m cooking Matty.” You reminded him in an irritated tone.

You were trying to put up a strong suit and that worked until Matthew placed his hand on your chin forcing it up as you stared at him. The hockey player leaned down to kiss your lips quickly forcing you to forget about why you were still irritated with him “Matty.” This time it came out airy like a needy moan.

The hockey player didn’t waste any time bringing you onto the empty space on the kitchen counter as you now faced him “missed you baby.” Matthew mumbled as he kissed your lips again with his hand on the back of your neck.

He smiled seeing your shirt as it was his old USA camp shirt from years ago “you look so fucking pretty.” The boy blurted out as he dropped to his knees lifting the shirt up to see your bare pussy staring back at him “no panties?” Matthew smirked as your face turned red.

You nodded watching with anticipation as the boy blew his warm breath against your core “you know I don’t like sleeping with them.” Your voice was shaky as he nodded wrapping his lips around your clit “shit Matty!” You groaned locking your fingers in his hair.

If there was one thing Matthew was good at it was using his tongue to get you off “please M,” you began bringing your hips up to meet his tongue “you liking this baby?” He asked smiling as your eyes locked with his “s-so much.” You nodded trying to force your thighs shut but the boy took it as a challenge wrapping his arms around your legs as he forced you closer to him.

His tongue trailed down to your core sliding in as you cried out in pleasure “don’t stop.” The smell of your burning food didn’t seem to phase either of you as you two sat there with his main objective being to get you off.

Matthew’s noise hit your clit making you jump “is my pretty baby gonna come?” The hockey player smirked replacing his tongue with his fingers as you nodded “please Matty,” you forced his head back down.

The boy focused his attempt on your clit as his fingers formed a come here motion thrusting into you “I’m going come fuck.” You announced legs shaking as they wrapped around his head almost squeezing the life out of his head.

His free hand tapped your thigh motioning to you that he wanted you to let go. Your orgasm came thick and fast as your eyes screwed shut painting your eyelids with white stars as your body shook when Matthew didn’t let his tongue slow down on your clit “Matty no,” you shook your head trying to force his face up to meet yours.

Deciding to go easy on you Matthew listener bringing himself onto his feet “so sweet.” He groaned shoving his fingers into your mouth so that you could taste what he was talking about “see?” Matthew asked as you wrapped your lips around his fingers sucking them like it could have been his cock in your mouth instead.

The hockey player felt his pants grow tight as his cock hardened “think we should move this to the bedroom?” Matthew proposed as he slipped his fingers out of your mouth.

Before you could nod the smell of burning food invaded your nostrils “the food!” You gasped pushed the boy away as you got off of the counter quickly pushing your attention to your pan of food that was now fully burnt.

It made Matthew groan “you can’t save it now baby.” He pointed out moving the pot away from the live hob before he turned the stove off.

For some reason your lips formed a frown as you looked up to your boyfriend “but I made it for you.” You mumbled breaking his heart in the process “we can make something new?” He proposed before he realised that you had made his favourite dish for lunch “c’mere.” Matthews voice was soft as he wrapped his arms around you pulling you into a hug.

You looked up to see his face full of concern as you smiled “I love you,” you blurted out leaning up to peck his lips.

The action was repeated two more times before he gave you a deeper kiss “I love you too,” as your feet went flat on the ground you realised that his bulge was against your stomach “let’s move this to the bedroom.” You nodded watching him cock his head “you sure?” He asked thinking that your sadden state sort of ruined the vibe.

You leaned up again as you placed your hands on either side of his bed “take me to bed and fuck me like you missed me Matty.” You ordered kissing his lips.

Matthew took less than a second as he picked you up hooking his hands under your legs “fuck baby.” He groaned as you moved your lips to his neck as you began nipping at the area of skin.

The boy smiled as you looked back up at him as you formed your lips into a kissy motion as he walked you two back into your room “miss me baby?” Matthew smirked as you nodded making him listen to your request before he placed you onto the bed “I think you missed me more.” You motioned to his bulge that was now eye level with you.

He took his jacket off throwing it somewhere in the room as the boy began undoing the buttons of his white shirt “can’t blame me for that.” Matthew smiled as he hooked his fingers under your jaw “looking so pretty like that,” he added as your eyes took in the sight of his abs “you like what you see?” The boy asked as you nodded.

Your fingers ran over his belt undoing it in the process “I’m not gonna last long baby and I wanna come inside of you.” Matthew confessed as your fingers hooked into his boxers pulling both down as he kicked his shoes off with both pieces of clothing “now it’s not fair that you are still in clothes is it?” The hockey player asked leaning down in between your legs as his nose hovered over yours.

A smile formed on your lips “what are you going to do about it then?” Shivers were sent up your body as his cold fingers drove up your stomach bringing your shirt off of your head in one movement.

It didn’t take long for Matthew to bring your body further up your bed so that he could properly have his way with you “can I put it on?” You asked motioning to the condom wrapper that was in his hand.

Matthew always loved watching you do that “sure thing baby,” he nodded ripping the wrapped open as he held out the condom for you to grab.

Watching you innocently smile as you rolled the latex material over his cock was something Matthew didn’t think he would ever get tired of “fuck y/n.” The boy groaned as you brought his cock over your clit “want you Matty.” You mumbled onto his lips letting him kiss you as he let your cunt swallow his cock.

It was hot watching your mouth form an o as you adjusted to his sheer size “move please.” You ordered as he nodded pulling his hips away before he brought them back to meet yours “missed this god.” Matthew reached out to lock his fingers into yours “just me in this room baby.” Your giggle was quickly cut off as his hands brought your legs up around his waist allowing his cock to slide deeper into you.

Matthew couldn’t help but smirk “not so strong now are we?” He cooed as you picked your hips up to meet his “let make you feel so good.” It almost sounded like he was asking you as he slipped his hand between your bodies so that he could rub your clit.

The room was hot as your breaths were panting “want to be good for you.” You cried at the new level of pleasure that shot through your body.

His lips were down on your neck as you dug your head into the mattress “you always are.” Matthew mumbled making sure to suck on the skin to the point where he knew that you would be having large hickies on display within the next few days.

Sounds of skin slapping and moans bounced off of the walls of the room as you both edged closer to your highs “I’m gonna-” you cried clenching around his cock.

The boy nodded “let the whole floor know about it.” Matthew ordered as he moved his head to kiss your jaw.

Your second orgasm of the afternoon hit you harder as your whole body shuddered under Matthew’s “shit shit right there oh!” You moaned face scrunching up over the sheer pleasure that you felt as your cunt sucked the life out of his cock bringing his orgasm out “so good baby.” The hockey players words were short as he kissed you.

As you both recovered from your orgasms he smiled letting his cock slide out of your cunt “I’m gonna go get a wash cloth.” Matthew got out of bed drawing your attention to the white piece of paper that was sticking out of his suit jacket.

You let your curiosity get the best of you as you leaned down and grabbed it reading the information over as you quickly realised that it was a flight ticket “you’re coming with me?” You asked with a smile forming on your face as you looked up to see your boyfriend nod.

Matthew sat next to you as his grin matched yours “can’t let you see those elephants without me now can I?”

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Six

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau and Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour.

W/C: 1,560

Ben sat sulking, staring out the window as you drove. A cover of a well-known song by a British girl group came on the radio. You nodded your head, fingers tapping against the wheel as you drove.

“Now, I won’t lie, I’m impartial to some Taylor Swift and some of them newer artists from time to time, but this…it’s hurtin’ my ears.”

Beau reached out to change the radio station, and without looking, you lightly smacked his hand.

“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

You said it automatically, not even thinking about it.

Beau quirked his brows, shaking his head lightly. From the mirror, you saw Dean smirk.

“House rules…” He said quietly with a slight smile on his lips.

Ever since Dean uttered those words in the first Supernatural episode, you’d taken the motto as your own. Your ex hated it whenever you’d reprimand him for wanting to change the radio station. He got so sick of the motto he almost banned Supernatural. He hated Dean, but most of all, he hated the motto coming from your mouth. Whenever he drove, he’d try to get a rise out of you, taunting you, using the motto to his own advantage, but he’d get more pissed off when it didn’t bother you.

“Why is it so…quiet?” Ben asked, with a distasteful expression on his face.

You frowned. It wasn’t quiet. The radio was on. Then it occurred to you that he didn’t mean the sound from within the car but rather the sound under the hood.

“It’s electric.”

“Electric?!” Came from all three.

From the rearview mirror, Ben’s distaste soured.

Dean leant towards the middle console, hand on the back of Beau’s headrest. Ben barged his way forward, shoulder to shoulder with Dean.

“The fuck you mean It’s electric?!” He barked.

You sighed and rubbed your temple.

“Oh, darlin’…don’t tell me this is one of those Musk contraptions.”

Beau sounded so disappointed.

“No. No, God, no. It’s just an electric car. Not everyone wants a gas guzzler, y’know. And it’s environmentally friendly.” You added pointedly.

It wasn’t aimed as a jibe, but that’s how both Dean and Beau felt about it.

“Baby gets me anywhere I gotta be. She’s gotten me across the States and back more than I can count. I tell ya, she’ll always be more reliable than this tin can, and there’ll always be gas stations.”

You rolled your eyes. Dean would protect Baby to the ends of the earth and through different dimensions. You loved Baby, too, but his love for her went above and beyond, rivalling anyone’s love for a car.

“If Pedro heard you talking that way ‘bout him, it sure would hurt his feelings.”

Pedro was a damn truck. An inanimate object.

You steeled yourself, gritting your teeth and tightening the grip a little on the steering wheel.

“Jesus Christ…” You muttered under your breath. Men and their cars.

You steered the car into the busy mall parking lot.

“I get it. You love your cars, and being in an electric vehicle is some type of violation against your manhood or whatever, but get over it. Henrietta’s got me through thick’n’thin, and I won’t have you trash-talking her.”

Dean and Ben retreated to their seats, and Beau looked out the window. You slowed as you drove through the lot, looking for a space.

“You called yours Pedro? You gay or something?” Ben asked right out of the blue.

Beau sighed, “No, I’m not gay. And I don’t know, the truck seemed masculine, so…. Pedro….”

Ben huffed but stayed silent.

You steered the car into a spot in the mall’s huge parking lot and cut the engine. You took a breath to collect yourself.

“What kinda name’s Henrietta anyway?”

You twisted around, shooting Ben a death glare.

“Don’t you besmirch the name of my car otherwise, you’ll be walkin’ back. Got it?”

Ben smirked. “Oh, please, sweetcheeks, you wouldn’t.”

You held his stare, deadpan.

“Wouldn’t I?”

You challenged him. Daring him to rise above you. He scoffed, huffed, rolled his eyes, and mumbled, “whatever”, only to stare back out the window.

You sighed, scrubbing a hand down your face.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

*

Ben made you the most nervous as he walked through the mall with you, Beau, and Ben in his Supe suit, minus his shield. This man needed clothes and stat. Your concern was that they would be recognised, and the secret would somehow be out. What secret? That somehow, three fictional men were out in the real world. And it scared you.

But Harmony wasn’t a big city, and you didn’t know many who were as mad about Jensen Ackles as you were. Still, you couldn’t shake the angry buzzing in your belly as you white-knuckled the shopping bags.

“You alright there?” Beau nudged your shoulder gently. “Ya seem to be gripping those bags like your life depended upon it.”

You looked up. He was so earnest, so caring. Your heart squeezed in your chest.

“Maybe I should’ve left you guys at home. What if someone sees you? What if Ben’s right and people don’t believe you’re triplets? What if—”

“Woah, woah, darlin’, it’s like you said, we look more like triplets than the set down the road. It’ll work. Trust it. Just relax a little. You’re more wound up than weasel about to pop.”

He squeezed your shoulder, and the buzzing inside eased. You released a breath, relaxed your jaw, and loosened your grip on the bags.

“There ya are. Now, what’s the plan?”

Ben scratched his chin, then folded his arms over his chest.

“Just to get a few clothes. Enough for, say, a week or a couple days. I got the money. It’s no big deal, so don’t worry about it. Then we’ll go get groceries.”

“Okay, dokay.”

You ignored all the clothing stores heading to the big Walmart superstore at the back of the mall, but something must have caught Beau’s eye as he veered off into a store. Boot Barn.

“Oh, ho. Looky here.”

You grabbed Ben’s arm and steered him into the store, pressing a light hand to Dean’s back. Ben grumbled about being manhandled like a child, but you knew he would have walked off.

You saw Dean perk up at the cowboy hats on display.

Oh boy.

Ben took control of himself and mumbled something about being in “Cowboy country.”

Beau picked up a boot on display.

“Now, these are a beaut.”

“So, get them.”

He looked at you and tilted his head with a bashful smile.

“Nah, I couldn’t…”

“Why not?”

“They’re upwards of three hundred bucks, darlin’. I couldn’t take advantage of you like that.”

“Nonsense. You like ‘em, so get ‘em.”

You grabbed a box and pushed it to his chest.

“Try them on.”

You then left Beau to his own devices and went to find Dean. On your way, Ben nudged your shoulder, lowering his head to your ear.

“Hillbillies and their moral codes, amiright?”

He sniggered, and you glared at him. “Don’t be mean. He’s got more decency in his pinky finger than you’ve got in your whole body.”

Ben huffed and wrapped a hand around your arm, tight, yanking you close. The air whoosed out from your chest, and you stared at the anger directed at you. It left you speechless, even more so when he gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, locking his intense green eyes with yours.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but I don’t appreciate being treated like a fucking child. It’s degrading as fuck. I’m a goddamned Supe. I deserve some fucking respect, so treat me how I deserve.”

His words came out in such a vicious hiss tears stung the corners of your eyes.

He dropped his hand from your chin. But he was right. He deserved the same treatment you were giving Beau and Dean. He didn’t deserve to be treated like a child.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know how to act around you. You’re a wild card, and it makes me nervous. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt from now on. I promise.”

Ben peered down, face so close to your own. You swore you could count the freckles smattering across his nose and cheekbones. His feet nudged yours as he shifted closer, his body brushing your chest.

His proximity had your heart thumping hard, banging against your ribcage. His lips spread into a sinful smirk. The air charged and fizzled.

“I do really make you nervous, don’t I?

Under your skin, your blood rushed, and your pulse quickened as he leaned closer, lips to your ear.

“If you wanna fuck me, all you gotta do is just say.”

Shock and lust slammed into you, taking the breath from you. White-hot heat bolted from your chest to your groin, sinking deep into your core, and last night’s images came flooding back. Your skin flushed, and heat rose from your neck to your cheeks.

He pulled away, chuckling lightly.

“Oh, darling, I’ll behave if you do.” He winked, with that cheeky smile on his face and walked away, leaving you stunned and horny in the middle of Boot Barn, wondering if you could get away with rushing to the restrooms for a quick skittle diddle.

Tags:

@yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch, @ashdoctor, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-number-one-fan.

[moosekateer13]

Glitch

Jared Padalecki x Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader, Cordell Walker x Reader, Camden Casey x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex, Angst, Fluff, Implied magic

Summary: Y/N finds a magic typewriter and now everything she writes comes to life. Suddenly she finds herself caught between a mess of people: Jared Padalecki, Sam Winchester, Cordell Walker, Dean Forester, and Camden Casey. How is she going to get her life back to normal or does she even really want to?

Inspired by Taylor Swift's Song Glitch

I think there's been a glitch, ah-yeah Five seconds later I'm fastening myself to you with a stitch, ah-yeah

And I'm not even sorry. Nights are so starry

Blood moonlit. It must be counterfeit. I think there's been a glitch, ah-yeah

The ambiance in the house today feels different, a subtle shift that I can't quite pinpoint. As I sit down to type on the new typewriter, I bought from a local shop, the soft click-clack of the keys fills the room. The scent of fresh ink and paper lingers in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of pasta and iced tea that suddenly materializes before me. I hear a gentle voice and feel a hand brushing my cheek. I look up to see Jared Padalecki wearing one of my favourite blue sweaters that he owns. Yeah, I’ve been writing too long. There is no way he is here.

Distracted by his presence, I try to focus on my work but he won’t let up. Jared tilts my head to look at him. His warm gaze meets mine as he urges me to take care of myself, offering me food. Reluctantly, I indulge as he stands before me, pushing the typewriter aside with a soft touch.

"How the hell are you even here?" I exclaimed, the aroma of food lingering in the air.

We look at each trying to figure a logical reason for this situation. 

 "It must be a dream," I said, savouring each bite. "I'm not sure about that, Y/N. Since I'm here, why don't we make the most of it Darlin'?" Jared replied, his voice echoing softly.

After the meal, he leads me to my room, his actions silent yet filled with intent. 

“You may Jared,” I said with a smile.

After I granted permission, he undressed me with care, guiding me to the bed. The intimacy that follows is slow, tender, and just as I had envisioned. His words are reassuring, and calming, and it dawns on me that this is my first time.

“That's it darlin. I've got you now let go.” Jared said.

 The sensations wash over me, a blend of emotions and physical pleasure. At that moment, I let go, fully immersed in the experience.

His arm envelops me in a warm embrace, lulling me into a peaceful slumber. Just as I start drifting off, a sharp knock startles me awake, jarring my senses.  

Y/N Y/M Y/L/N. How many times do you have to tell you to check the object's history before buying them? If you don't come out, I'm going to pick that lock.

I look over to Jared.

“Jared, Sam isn't going to really pick that lock is he?”I said.

He gently pushes a loose strand of my Y/H/C hair behind my ear, his intense multi-spectrum hazel eyes meeting mine. 

“Knowing him he just might,” Jared replied

The sound of the door opening breaks the moment, and Sam swiftly lifts me from Jared's arms, hoisting me over his shoulder.  We reach his intended destination my office.

“Samuel Winchester you know I don't like you going all caveman on me now put me down. For god’s sake, you didn’t even let me get dressed.” I scolded. He happily obliges and sets me down on my feet.

I take a  once over to assess his appearance.  He looks good as always. Sam is in his usual fair, a blue plaid shirt and denim jeans.

Okay now is not the time to think about how good he looks I mentally scolded. You are supposed to be mad at him for his behavior.

He takes a seat in my desk chair.

“Y/N what's the point in that huntress? You know I want my turn with you.” Sam replied as he Sam swiftly pulled me closer, the rustle of clothes as they came off. With a swift movement, he lifts me, our bodies entwined, the sensation of him holding me close. The snap of the chair interrupts us, ending our intimate moment abruptly.

“Such a shame. Our activities got cut short Huntress. Looks like I have to order another chair. One that will withstand more weight in the meantime. I'll let you get some much-needed rest.” Sam said as he pulled out. Before leaving he places me on the nearby stool.

He didn't even bother to put his shirt on just his pants. I make quick use of it and put it on myself.

Cordell's voice interrupts my thoughts as he pokes his head into my office, beckoning me to follow him. I lick my lips at the sight of him in his ranger uniform. "Baby girl, can you come with me? I've got something to show you," Cordell said. 

"Uh, yeah, but my legs are jelly at the moment." At those words Cordell scoops me up and places me onto his back, carrying me as we make our way.

As we reach our destination, I take in the sight of the stunning stable around me, feeling a sense of awe. "I remember you wanting to learn to ride horses. So I built this for us. The horses will be here this week," Cordell explains. "This is amazing, you've outdone yourself. I look forward to taking riding lessons from you," I said with a smile.

"You can ride something else in the meantime," Cordell suggests, his words carrying a hint of playfulness. He gently unbuttoned my borrowed shirt, letting it fall to the floor before leading me over to a nearby haystack.

He settles in, patiently awaiting my touch, the room filled with a sense of anticipation. I gladly comply, feeling the fabric slide off his skin. Cordell swiftly turns me over, his firm grip sending shivers down my spine. "You're mine for now, baby girl," his voice echoes in the room. His touch leaves a trail of warmth and desire on every inch of my body. I let out a soft moan against his lips, savouring the moment. "Your voice saying my name sounds like music," Cordell whispered.

As the hour passes, a sense of fatigue creeps in, palpable in the air. "Let's move you to the bath, your tired muscles need some care," Cordell suggested. In the bathroom, the sound of running water fills the space as Cordell prepares the perfect bath. With gentle guidance, he helps me into the warm water, leaving me to unwind in solitude.

An hour later, I'm startled by the thunderous bangs on the bathroom door, the sound echoing through the quiet house. Quickly, I slip into the black undergarments left by Cordell, feeling the smooth fabric against my skin. As I hastily drape the pink silk robe over me, the soft scent of roses wafts from the delicate fabric.

Camden Casey emerges, clad in his firefighter gear, the reflective stripes gleaming in the dim light. "Ma’am, there's an emergency. I'm going to need you to come with me," he said urgently, his voice a mix of concern and authority. I'm pulled along, the urgency palpable in the air as we rush towards the unknown.

Standing in awe, I take in the sight of the fully equipped fire station before me, the bright red trucks gleaming under the fluorescent lights. "Come on, are you just going to stand there or help me with the situation at hand?" Camden's voice breaks through my daze, his eyes silently urging me to assist him. 

I observe the source of the issue, even with gear on, the bulge in his pants is visible.

With trembling hands, I help him remove his gear, the heavy fabric sliding off with surprising ease. A smirk plays on Camden's lips as he stands before me, his gaze warm yet intense. "You're sweating, let me help you with that," he murmurs, his touch gentle as he undresses me, the cool air sending shivers down my spine.

As he guides me into the firetruck, the metallic scent of machinery surrounds us, the engine's hum filling the air. I lay on my back, the leather seats cool against my skin as Camden's touch ignites a different kind of fire within me. "That's it, let me keep stroking that fire," he whispers against my neck, his breath sending a shiver down my spine.

With a sudden movement, he flips me onto my front, the urgency in his actions palpable. "Checking every area, Captain," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "You bet Y/N wouldn't be doing it right if I wasn't," Camden replies, his tone firm yet filled with desire. He flips me back onto my back.

In a rush of sensations, I feel him pressing against me, his movements sending waves of pleasure through me. The hours blur as he marks every part of my body, leaving us both breathless and spent. As he carries me back to my room, I feel the exhaustion settling in, the need for rest overwhelming.

"Get some much-needed rest, Y/N. I'll be around to check on you later," Camden's voice echoes in the room, the concern clear in his tone. As I drift off to sleep, the lingering scent of cologne and desire still lingers in the air.

2 hours later

I woke up to the gentle moonlight filtering through the curtains, the faint aroma of homemade pizza teasing my senses. After a refreshing shower, I felt more awake as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. The scene in the kitchen confirmed it wasn't a dream: Jared bustling with pizzas, Cordell setting the table, Sam preparing veggies, and Camden ensuring my chair is comfortable. Jared's inviting smile led me to the cozy living to relax. Before dinner, which would soon be served in the dining room. Just then, a knock at the door interrupted the tranquillity. Dean Forester, clad in the iconic Doose's Market apron, stood there with groceries and a king-sized bed. I greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, causing a blush to spread across his face. Guiding him to the kitchen, he efficiently stored the groceries and placed the bed in the designated room.

Dean's tired voice filled the room, "Okay if that's all Miss I should be going." I could see the fatigue in his eyes. "You must be tired, come have dinner with us," I offered warmly. The scent of pizza filled the air, making my stomach growl. "I wouldn't want to impose," Dean hesitated. "You aren't imposing. I wouldn't offer it if you were," I reassured with a smile. As we entered the dining room, the sound of chairs scraping against the floor echoed. Jared gallantly pulled out my chair, and the clink of plates being set on the table followed. The sight of the pepperoni pizza made my mouth water, and I eagerly took a bite. Their smiles were heartwarming as I quickly finished the pizza and moved on to the fresh salad. "This is amazing guys, you've outdone yourselves. Thank you," I praised gratefully. "You're welcome. We just want to make sure our queen is taken care of," they replied in unison.

Six months later, as I sit at my desk, the aroma of freshly steeped tea fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of cologne. I take a sip from my favourite mug; the words etched on it a reminder of Sam's playful humour. Please Do Not Annoy The Writer She May Put You in a Book and Kill You. The clacking of keys on my laptop fills the room, a stark contrast to the once familiar sound of the typewriter. Which I don’t use anymore for fear that it would change my reality yet again.

 My brown tabby cat, Ms. Delicate, rubs against my legs, her soft fur tickling them slightly.

Suddenly, Jared bursts into the room, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. 

“Del let your mom finish writing and let me give you a bath,” Jared said as he coaxed her away from my feet.

He gently lifts Ms. Delicate into his arms, her purring a gentle hum in the background. The sight brings a smile to my face, knowing she's become a daddy's girl in such a short amount of time. 

The piercing sound of the tortured poet's department ringtone jolts me from my deep thoughts. "Hey, Holy. How's everything going?" I inquire. "Not good. I ordered a fountain pen from Pretty Hourglass. Now there are Jensen's characters all over my house. Thank goodness I ran out of ink. How do I get rid of them?" Holy's voice trembles with panic. "I accidentally bought a typewriter from a local store of the same name 6 months ago. I guess it went worldwide. There's no way to get rid of the new reality. Why would you want to? Just enjoy it. Okay, I've got to go, Jared is calling me." The call ends abruptly as I hang up on her, silencing her words.

As I glance around, I notice my men engrossed in various activities. The living room is a hive of activity. Jared's intense concentration on the Nintendo 64 is accompanied by the sound of button mashing. Del sits beside him, occasionally meowing. Sam's quiet rustle of pages from his old mythology book fills the room. The faint glow of the computer screen illuminates Cordell's focused expression as he reads about recent cases. In the background, the crackling static from Camden's local emergency scanner adds a sense of urgency. The faint aroma of something cooking drifts from the kitchen, where Dean is diligently preparing something.

I wouldn't trade the love and appreciation they show me for anything. I adore my harem; there is not a thing I would alter about it. It all began with a glitch from a faulty typewriter, but it blossomed into something extraordinary.

[bloo-the-dragon]

Run Boy Run

A bit of an experimental one shot focusing on Bloodmoon (sams) and FC set when Bloodmoon was under Foxy and Monty's command many months ago, which is actually when i first drafted this lol. Woke up in a cold sweat and wrote most of it before forgetting about it until today.

So basically it's a what if situation where Stitchwraith shows up and Bloodmoon fulfils his command to protect FC. It's really not a redemption thing, more a what if they obeyed their command kinda deal. About 2.7k words!

(Also on AO3!)

~~~

Bloodmoon was guarding FC at the daycare. They did not want to be here. They would rather be anywhere else than stuck in this accursed place. Perhaps it would not be so bad if there was human children running around, but it was well after hours and it was just them and the little fox brat here. And he was under very strict orders not to harm the child lest they find theirselves swifted wiped from existence.

So here they sat, grumbling and clawing at the playmats as they were co-erced begrudginly into playing a game of castles by FC who wanted them to be the monster in the loch that surrounded his mighty castle made from those stupid barrels.

Admittedly the sight of the spherical objects made the twins a little uneasy, memories in the back of their shared mind of being faced with one held by a certain yellow animatronic, a flash of light and then nothing. But the barrels were supposedly safe now and no longer a danger. They remained skeptical of this, and so chose not to touch them leaving the fox child to stack them as he wished while they lay sprawled out on the ground, tearing fresh holes into the gross blue mats.

They wondered how much longer of this hell they would have to endure. One half was consistently egging the other to make a break for the doors, they could so easily clamber up the woodwork and squeeze between the gap toward their freedom. Multiple times the more logical half had to remind their erratic twin of the bomb planted so neatly into their head. And more so again as FC bonked them with a barrel to get their attention. They did snap their jaws in warning though, which ceased FC's actions and they snickered as the little fox suddenly startled and fell backwards.

However they quickly realised it was not them who caused FC to startle so. Hearing the sounds of uneven footsteps, they snapped their head around to see the Stitchwraith making it's way toward them.

Immedietely Bloodmoon was on their feet, teeth bared and claws out ready to attack. But experience had taught them to not immedietely jump and to be wary of the abomination as they knew it had many foul tricks up the cloak it wore. They made the mistake of jumping into action against it once, they would not do so again.

'FC' The Stitchwraith called out, drawing out the C' in a sickeningly soft voice. 'Come here, come to me.'

FC did not respond. He appeared to be too frightened, crouching behind the barrel that he had been hitting Bloodmoon with not a minute ago. Stitchwraith took another step forward and Bloodmoon growled, snapping their jaws in warning. The command to protect FC was starting to kick in in full and despite how much it sickened them, in the end they hated Stitchwraith more than they did the fox and his brat.

Stitchwraith seemed to notice their presence, and it called out to them next. 'Bloodmoon. Bring him to me. Now.'

Bloodmoon twitched at the command. They almost complied, the accursed instincts to follow orders activating. Plus it being Stitchwraith, someone they had unknowingly followed like an obediant dog for months.

But Stitchwraith was no longer their ward, their master. They had none.

Was Foxy their master? Coding said yes but Bloodmoon aggressively disagreed. 

The old fox had treated them well though, better than the others. While they were forbiddan to maim people they were still provided sustenance as meager as it was. Animal blood couldn't compare to human blood afterall. It was less sustaining. But it was something.

FC whimpered, as Stitchwraith called for him again. This time Bloodmoon recognised the voice, the so called 'nice' one. They knew it to be a lie. They knew that one was more a snake than the other.

The twins considered briefly their next course of action. One side, the more angry one wanted to follow as they had been told and to lunge, kill the Stitchwraith as was their command.

Attack ATTACK it is weak, we shall maim and tear and feast!

No.. Something is wrong brother. Surely you feel it too. Weakened as it is, i sense something is amiss.

Their spiral eyes narrowed, and they growled menacingly as they lowered themself to the ground ready to pounce or bolt. Yet there was something... off about the Stitchwraith. When they first spied it they immedietely noticed it appeared to be more damaged than it had been the last time they'd seen it. The steps it took were uneven and it walked with a heavy limp. They could hear a sickening grinding noise with every movement almost as if it were forcing itself to move. It did not sound comfortable. It sounded like it was in a great deal of pain.

And that meant it was weak. Less of a threat, easier to take down.

But still they'd held their ground. Past experience aside, the closer it got the more the twins sensed that it seemed to be almost more.. powerful than before. Despite how badly damaged it was, the red core that sat in the center of the mangled robots chest thrummed with such potent energy that even they could sense it.

The abomination's patience appeared to wane, as with a sudden burst of energy it took a couple of quick steps forward, claws outstretched toward FC.

'Come here. Now.'

Bloodmoon saw red. Quite literally.

The red core in Stitchwraith's chest began to glow and Bloodmoon reacted on pure instinct. Twisting their head, they clamped their teeth onto the scruff behind the tiny fox's neck elicting a startled yelp from the child before turning and bolting out of the daycare on all fours.

There was an angry shout, something that sounded like a 'No!' But Bloodmoon didn't dare look back, didn't slow down. They scrambled up the wooden doors and squeezed through the gap at the top just as one half had been pre-planning prior to this. As they lept down, the wooden doors cracked and splintered before bursting open with a looud bang behind them.

But the twins and the little fox within their jaws were already up the stairs. They ran faster, running in an erratic zigzag as bolts of red electrical like energy struck the ground on either side of them.

They dashed out of the daycare, their claws scrabbling to find grip on the marble floor that led toward the main entrance. They began making big leaps and bounds, almost like a bunny and at one point they even ran briefly across the wall before finally making it to the double doors leading to the pizzaria lobby.

They burst through the doors, nearly snapping one off its hinges in the process. They stop briefly to finally check behind them, to see how close the Stitchwraith was. They couldn't see it, they had managed to outrun it. But they knew better than to hang around in such an open space.

They looked around, the little fox swinging in their jaws as the red and blue animatronic searched frantically for a place to hide. One side pointed their shared view to a specific hole in the ceiling, meant for the elevator that sit broken by the escalators. It could work to hide them if they could get up there.

Wasting no time, they darted toward the giant glowing pillars that connected the elevator to the ceiling. They lunged and grabbed onto one, grunting and hissing as the bright light hurt their sensitive eyes. But they scrambled their way up it regardless and into the gaping space above.

They were able to only get up so far though as there was a metal barrier of some kind blocking the rest of the way. A safety measure should anything fall in from above they would assume. But they were up far enough that they should not be so easily spotted.

Bloodmoon adjusted theirself, finding purchase with their claws and supports for their feet to keep theirselves in place. FC remained scruffed in their teeth, and the little fox whimpered as he hung almost precariously, his eyes closed tight as to not look at the high distance between them and the ground below.

The red and blue jester hissed a low and dangerous 'quiet' just as the Stitchwraith appeared, slamming the daycare entryway doors aside and completely snapping the already broken one off the hinges.

Both Bloodmoon and FC went very still. They couldn't directly see Stitchwraith at this angle but they could hear as well as sense it. The eerie energy that radiated from it was all too hard to miss, as were the uneven footsteps and sounds of broken machinery as the mangled animatronic prowled below them.

'FC? Where are you buddy? If you hear me just call out! Did Bloodmoon hurt you? I'll come rescue you, don't worry'

FC didn't make a sound but Bloodmoon could feel him tremble, how the tiny fox curled in on himself even more tucking his legs and tail close. The smell of fear was strong and it took all of their effort to not give into the sudden urge to bite down fully.

More accursed mechanical noises, more soft calls carrying false words of encouragement and poisonous promise. At one point Bloodmoon spied the Stitchwraith as it moved below them. Their spiral eyes fixed on it immedietely following its every move with intense focus, their body completely still and tense and ready to lunge the moment the mangled robot turned its hooded head up toward the two.

But it did not. Instead the calls fell quiet and Bloodmoon could barely hear the angry hushed whispers to itself. With a sudden angry snarl accompanied by crackles of more red energy that had FC flinching harshly, Stitchwraith turned and stormed off in another direction once again leaving their line of sight.

However Bloodmoon dared not move, remaining completely still. Both sides were silent even in their mind, both being completely hyper focused with one side listening and looking out for the looming danger below them and the other holding back the bloodlust being triggered by FC's terror.

Even as the sounds grew softer and eventually disappeared entirely they did not dare to move. For all they knew, the Stitchwraith could still be nearby, waiting for them to come out of hiding so it could ambush them. They wern't taking the chance.

They knew not how long they stayed there. Could have been an hour, could have been ten minutes. Either way, FC started to whine softly the events taking its toll on the little fox. Bloodmoon growled a warning and that shut him up quick. But not a minute after, there were sounds of footsteps approaching which had both tensing up once again before a familiar voice followed.

'FC? FC Where are you? Bloodmoon? Either of you are you here?'

It was Foxy. FC perked up instantly, and with only slight hesitation called out to his dad.

'I'm here father!'

With that, Bloodmoon finally moved from his position, grabbing onto the accursed glowing pillar and sliding down it to where Foxy was waiting for them.

Bloodmoon released FC from their jaws, and the little fox instantly bolted away and over to Foxy. Bloodmoon twitched in a barely restrained effort to not automatically chase after him, but otherwise remained where they were, flexing their claws as they fought to calm their bloodlust as well as their own nerves.

Meanwhile Foxy checked over his son frantically. 'Are you alright? Did he hurt you?' Foxy immedietely shot Bloodmoon a glare as he noticed the faint bite mark on the back of his sons neck. While the faux fuzz skin was not torn, there were clear puncture marks.

Bloodmoon notices his glare and they let out a scoff, turning their head away. But FC is shaking his head drawing the older fox animatronic's attention back.

'No no! I am not hurt they... Bloodmoon saved me from the Stitchwraith!'. 

'I.. see' Foxy couldn't help the slight skeptisim from entering his voice but. 'Well.. Good. Glad to see you're capable of following orders then' Foxy directed his voice over to Bloodmoon. The red and blue jester shot him a snarl but they did not answer, instead plopping theirselves onto the floor and clawing halfheartedly at the carpet.

Foxy sighed, and turned back to his son. Aside from the bite mark he looked to be ok just a little shaken. 'I saw the Stitchwraith on the cams. Came here fast as i could. I'm sorry you had to deal with that but you're safe now.'

FC fiddled with his hands. 'Can we go home now?'

'Yeah kid, we can go home. Won't be back here for a while. I already gave Monty a call on my way down here so. He should be here soon, so just hang tight for a bit alright?'

'What if the Stitchwraith comes back?'

'Then we'll deal with it should happen. But i think it's gone for now and we won't be here for much longer.'

'Ok father..'

Foxy ruffled his sons head. 'Atta' boy.' He then stood and turned his attention to Bloodmoon, considering his options. They had done exactly as they were commanded which was... surprising honestly. Foxy had assumed they would have been torn apart by the Stitchwraith. Afterall their main purpose was to hold them off long enough for him or Monty to get down there. They had surprised him today.

Foxy hummed. He wondered.

While Foxy and FC were talking, Bloodmoon had tuned them out. They were starting to feel weary. The effort it took of holding back their bloodlust combined with the sudden burst of energy that had them bolting across the plex was starting to take its toll. The twins were tired and hungry and their arms and legs beginning to feel a little sore. Conflicting emotions swam within them from both sides. The satisfaction in their code of fulfilling their order to protect FC conflicting with the command denied to bring FC to the Stitchwraith as they were told to.

They hated this. Hated being stuck like this. Hated that they were bound to the commands of two masters. They knashed their teeth, wanting nothing more than to feast on soft flesh and warm blood before curling up and going to sleep.

They flinched as their name was called, flinching back as they realised the old fox was suddenly standing next to them. One half of them automatically hissed and swiped but the other half held them back as they processed a question that had been asked to them.

'What?'

Foxy had his hands held up in a non threatening manner. A difficult feat to accomplish when one had was literally a hook. 'Negative O. That's your favourite right?'

Bloodmoon tilted their head in a confused manner, but they warily nod. 'Alright, ok good got it' Foxy replies, 'listen you did good today so tell you what. I'll get you one blood bag as a treat. Maybe two if you behave between now and when we get home. Sound good?'

The twins do not answer, squinting at the old fox in suspicion. Was this a trick? Some kind of ploy? For what reason would he do this? They did not believe for a moment this 'good behaviour' shit he was spewing. They had simply done what they were commanded to do, nothing more.

However, the prospect of having actual human blood, and their favourite type no less was too good to pass up. They inwardly agreed with one another they could play the little nice nice game for a little longer too if it meant getting an extra bag so they nodded their head again.

'Alright good' Foxy nods mostly to himself before turning to FC. He had noted Bloodmoon looked tired and FC was looking increasingly like he could use a nap, the stress finally starting to take it's toll on the little fox. Bloodmoon too, as they stopped clawing up the carpet and resorted to curling up on the floor. Nasty place to lie down Foxy mused but he wasn't gonna tell them otherwise.

Eventually Monty did arrive and set up the portal back home. Foxy sent Bloodmoon and FC through first, and quickly passed on his request to Monty to grab the two negative o blood bags for Bloodmoon to which the gator agreed. As he passed through the portal himself Foxy wondered if perhaps he could use this as a consistant reward for good behaviours in future to keep Bloodmoon in line.

[theetherealbloom]

WHERE DO WE GO NOW? - CH. 2 | 14th Doctor

Chapter Two: All Our Best Years Are Behind

Summary: With the TARDIS out of control, you three end up stranded on a spaceship. Unbeknownst to you all, you're not the only one on board.

Pairing: 14th Doctor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt-to-Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Possible Plot Holes, Vague Background, Aliens, Mild Horror, Violence, Past Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, Timey-Wimey Stuff, Star-Crossed Lovers, Second Chance, Character Death, Mention of Su!c!de, 

Word Count: 11.7k

A/N: Tbh, this chapter took a while for me to write because of all the holiday shopping I needed to do tehe! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter and as you know I thrive for feedback, reblogs and comments. Thank you for all the love you've given so far to this series and I can't wait to start writing the next chapter because I have a bunch of ideas swirling around in my mind hehe. Also, please note that English isn't my first language, please forgive me for any grammatical errors or wrong spelling etc. Love you loads!

Song: anything (demo) by Dodie

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Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

ENGLAND, 1666 — MORNING

The TARDIS collides with an unknown object, sending you and Donna tumbling through the room. Donna clings to the railing for stability, but you, unfortunately, lose your balance. As you teeter on the edge of falling, the Doctor swiftly intervenes, grabbing your waist and pulling you close. Your bodies collide in the chaotic scenario as flames and sparks whirl around the console.

The Doctor gently cradles your head with one hand, conducting a swift but thorough assessment for any injuries. Satisfied with the examination, he presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. With a determined look, he retrieves a piece of the console, swiftly making his way to the TARDIS doors. His focus shifts to triangulating your current location and time, a sense of urgency evident in his movements.

You, the Doctor and Donna pop your head out the TARDIS and you can see a bright blue clear morning sky and it seems that you have crashed into an apple tree. You look down to see a man holding an apple while looking up at the three of you in disbelief.

The Doctor, with a quirky smile, introduces you and Donna to the stranger he's just encountered. His charm radiates as he explains, "Oh! Sorry, we’re just slightly out of control. This is my fiancée, Stargazer. My friend, Donna..." He playfully gestures towards Donna, who greets the stranger with a friendly grin, "This is Donna. Donna Noble."

"Hi!" Donna chimes in cheerfully.

The Doctor, ever the quick thinker, continues, "Just dropped some coffee into the console." Donna interjects with a light-hearted assurance, "But don’t worry. He’s got a time machine, which means he can blame me for all eternity."

Ignoring Donna's quip, the Doctor turns to the perplexed man and earnestly asks, "I just need to triangulate. Could you tell me what year this is?"

The man, clearly taken aback, responds, "It’s 1666."

You and the Doctor exchange puzzled glances, your lips puckering in unison as you simultaneously warn the stranger, "Oh! Stay away from London."

The Doctor proceeds to input the year into a device, then has a sudden realization, exclaiming, "Wait a minute. Apple tree. Apple. Man holding an apple in 1666. Are you Sir Isaac Newton?"

"Sir Isaac?" to which the man reveals himself as the renowned figure who discovered gravity.

The Doctor, correcting his error, teases, "Oh! Not yet. Spoilers."

Donna, injecting some humor, remarks, "Have you got the controls set to famous or what?"

The Doctor, with a hint of exasperation, retorts, "If I had controls. Thank you."

Donna playfully engages Isaac Newton, saying, "But it's got to be said, Mr. Isaac Newton, that you, above all others, can appreciate—"

The Doctor interjects with a cautionary, "Oh, no, don't."

Undeterred, Donna persists, "You can appreciate—" and you join in, emphasizing, "Really, really don't." Donna groans and urges, "Oh, come on!"

Turning back to a bewildered Isaac Newton, she asserts, "You can appreciate—" and in unison, the three of you declare, "the gravity of the situation."

A loud bang and fire erupt from behind the three of you, prompting a swift turn to witness the chaotic scene inside the TARDIS. The Doctor hastily tells Isaac Newton, “Oh! Sorry, gotta go. Bye!” You and Donna join in, adding your farewells, “Bye!”

UNKNOWN SPACESHIP — ???

As the TARDIS crash lands, Donna steps out of the TARDIS, beginning to say, “I am never ever—”

After hastily evaluating the impending disaster at the TARDIS console, you and the Doctor realize it's on the verge of erupting in flames. The Doctor seizes your wrist and swiftly ushers you outside, shouting to Donna, "Out of the way!"

Both you and the Doctor hit the ground, Donna in tow, as flames erupt from the TARDIS doors. Strangely, the U.S. Air Force song plays in the background with audible lyrics:

"Here they come

Zooming to meet our thunder

At ‘em, boys, give ‘em the gun"

Lying on the floor, the TARDIS abruptly slams its doors shut, bringing an unexpected end to the song. The three of you are panting on the floor in shock and confusion plastered on your face.

As you three pull yourself up and stand, Donna asks in disbelief and unsureness, “Is it… Is it all right? Is it broken? Is it knackered?”

With a frown, the Doctor strides toward the TARDIS doors and pushes them open. "Uh..."

Ducking your head from underneath his shoulder, you peer inside to assess the damage. The hiss of fire and creaking of objects reach your ears amid the billowing steam surrounding the TARDIS. Both you and the Doctor frown at the sight, and he utters a small, "Ooh."

Gently closing the TARDIS door, the Doctor grips both sides of the time machine with his hands. You take a step back, and Donna softly and sheepishly asks, "Is it bad?"

The Doctor presses his forehead against the blue doors in defeat, groaning, "It was brand-new."

Donna softly says, "Sorry."

The Doctor composes himself, taking a deep breath. He spins around and addresses Donna, saying, “Not your fault.”

“Yes, it was.” Donna responds matter-of-factly, accompanied by an awkward smile. “But can we fly? Can you fix it? Can we get back home?”

The Doctor grins, “We can do anything.” Donna laughs in delight.

The Doctor brandishes his sonic screwdriver and says, “Sonic screwdriver,” then pulls out a regular screwdriver, “and a non-sonic screwdriver.”

You and Donna share a laugh, and you playfully point out, “I think a non-sonic screwdriver is just called a screwdriver.”

The Doctor nods, giving you an adorable smile, “Thank you, love.”

“But if I can just reconfigure…” The Doctor starts as he fiddles with the keyhole of the TARDIS, “'Cause this old box can regenerate itself if I can just click it into gear.”

“Am I going mad, or did the TARDIS play ‘Wild Blue Yonder’?” Donna asks both you and the Doctor. He frowns and furrows his brows, “Yeah, it did, didn’t it?”

“What for?” Donna asks, and you reply, “I wonder.”

“We sang that in the choir in primary school. We’d have a little concert every Christmas, but gramps complained. He said, ‘You shouldn’t be teaching children that.’ It sounds all jaunty and fun, but it’s not. It’s the military going to war.” Donna shares as you stand next to her.

“Yeah. It’s the Air Force. The words are ‘wild blue yonder,’ which means the TARDIS played us a war song.” The Doctor frowns in contemplation but then manages to remove a portion of the keyhole. He inserts the end of his sonic screwdriver into the keyhole and clicks a button. The sonic emits a sound as the Doctor continues, “There, now... it can rebuild.”

The Doctor leaves the sonic screwdriver inserted as it continues to hum. The three of you take a few steps back as you hear the TARDIS clattering inside, shifting gears. The Doctor makes a face as he says, “Ooh. Okay? Yes?”

The TARDIS suddenly groans, and you three lean a little backward. Donna then asks, “Is it working?”

“Think so. Strange.” The Doctor comments. After a few seconds, the light atop the police box lights up blue and emits a small ding. The Doctor smiles and clasps his hands together, “There you go! Mending, mending, mending. Give it a bit of time.”

The Doctor then looks around the space you had landed, bends his knees up and down as he says, “So, now. I wonder where we are. Feels like a spaceship? Yeah?”

Donna concurs, “Yeah.”

The Doctor remarks, “Flight.”

Donna then adds, “Spaceship.”

The Doctor scrunches his nose as he shrugs, “Let’s just see.” He moves to what seems to be a door and presses the button on the side, leaving you and Donna to follow him.

“Wow! Nice!” The Doctor remarks as you enter the large, long corridor of the spaceship. Multiple shapes and sizes of grey panels surround the interior walls, while large mechanical beams hold the roof, leaving you in awe of the immense size of the entire spacecraft.

“Big!” Donna comments as she looks around, and The Doctor adds, “Very big!”

“I’d hate to be the cleaner,” Donna says as she gazes up at the high ceilings.

You then spot something in the distance, a small, white figure standing still. Squinting your eyes, you try to make out its shape and say, “Is that—”

The Doctor begins to wave his hand in the air, yelling, “Hello! We just landed. By accident. I hope that’s okay.”

There’s no response from whatever is at the end of the long corridor. Donna leans a little closer and asks, “Is that a person or a thing?”

The Doctor can’t help himself as he looks at the two of you, his tone suggesting, “We could take a look.”

Donna scoffs and points out, “Or we could stay here, wait for the TARDIS to mend itself so I can get back home. My family is waiting for me.”

The Doctor makes a face as he hums and points with his thumb, “Mmm?”

You shake your head while looking up, knowing his curiosity will always win. Eventually, Donna relents, “Yeah, all right.”

The Doctor smiles and shoves a hand down his pocket as he takes your hand in his, and the three of you walk down the massive, long corridor. Donna begins to say “Still, wherever we are, could be worse. We’ve got air. We’ve got lights. We’ve got mavity.”

You and the Doctor glance at each other before nodding along with Donna. Both of you hum and agree, “Yeah.”

“Was it me, or was Isaac Newton hot?” Donna says, and you grin wildly as you nod your head in agreement, saying, “Oh, thank the stars someone said it! 'Cause, yes, he was very hot.”

“He was, wasn’t he? He was so hot.” The Doctor said before realizing, “Oh, is that who I am now?”

You give the Doctor a reassuring squeeze as Donna says to the Doctor, “Well, it was never that far from the surface, mate. I always thought—” She’s cut off by the sudden sound of the TARDIS engine whirring, and the three of you race back to where you had landed to see it disappear.

The Doctor exclaims in panic, “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!”

“But— What?” Donna says as she takes a small step back in disbelief. You're by the Doctor’s side as your mouth slightly opens in shock, feeling a tightness in your chest of uncertainty.

“You’ll get it back though?” Donna asks, “Doctor, you can get it back.”

The Doctor has wide eyes and a mouth agape as he doesn’t reply. Donna steps in front of the two of you, saying, “Doctor, you can get the TARDIS back, can’t you? Use the sonic.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows dip in the middle, a visible annoyance and frustration as he replies, “It was in the keyhole.”

Donna’s eyes widen, and she stammers as she tries to gather solutions to the problem you three were in. She says, “But you can whistle. You could snap your fingers. You could summon it. Just use that stupid head of yours and get it back.”

The Doctor gives her a look as he grits his teeth in slight rage, and Donna shakes her head at him, pointing a finger as she says, “Oh, don’t you look at me like that. It’s your fault.”

To which you and the Doctor give her a more pointed look, and Donna continues on, “I said, ‘Let’s stay here’. But you two had to wander off.”

You raise your voice as you say, “You wandered with us!”

Donna retaliates with her voice high-pitched, “Oh, like I could stop you both!”

The Doctor adds fuel to the fire, his voice raising, “You spilled the coffee—” He stops himself, not liking where all the blaming and pointing fingers were going. To him, there was no point, so he threw his hands in the air as he turned around, saying, “No.”

The Doctor places both hands on his hips as you let out a deep sigh through your nose as you cover both your eyes with the palms of your hands, rubbing them out in frustration. 

Donna fiddles with the lapels of her coat as she nods and agrees with a soft note, saying, “No.”

The Doctor briefly raises both of his hands in surrender as he softly says, “Sorry.” To which you also add your own, “Sorry, Donna.”

Donna steps back, and her voice shakes as she says, “No. Okay. Fine.” Then you see panic seep through Donna. She begins to pant, her eyes slightly water and rim her eyes, and her lower lip begins to tremble. “Oh— Oh, my God. Where are we?”

You and the Doctor move towards her the moment her lower lip begins to tremble, and Donna has an outstretched hand, trying not to let you two get close, but it’s no use. The Doctor grabs her hand and gives it a small kiss in reassurance. Then you hold on to grab her other hand in support as she whimpers, and she sniffles out, “Rose is waiting.”

The Doctor looks directly into Donna’s shining blue eyes as he says, “I will get you home.” Donna shakes her head, “How?”

The Doctor is serious as he says, “There is one hope. A mechanism on board the TARDIS called the HADS. Hostile Action Displacement System.” He then lets go of Donna’s hand and continues, “If the TARDIS is in danger, it goes away.”

“Goes where?” Donna asks.

“Anywhere. And it only comes back when the danger is gone. I turned it off years ago. I mean, I’d never land anywhere. Once spent three years with the Stargazer in orbit, and I thought, ‘Oh, mmm, turn off the HADS’, but if the TARDIS is rebuilding itself, maybe it clicked back on.” The Doctor explains, and Donna realizes, “But that means we’ve landed in the middle of hostile action.”

To which the Doctor replies with a somber tone, “Yeah.”

In moments like these, you remain silent, your mind kicking into overdrive as it gathers as much information as possible, desperately searching for a solution to the chaotic situation around you.

“There’s something on this ship that’s so bad the TARDIS ran away?” Donna asks, a slight quiver in her voice. The Doctor stammers, “Y-yes.”

Donna takes a moment before declaring, “Then… we go and kick its arse!” She moves to slam the palm of her hand on the button on the wall that opens the door and strides down the corridor with determination. You and the Doctor exchange a look before trailing after her.

“She was very put out. Mrs Bean,” Donna says as the three of you stroll down the long spaceship corridor. The Doctor, intrigued, asks, “Mrs Bean?” Your hand is in his, swaying with the movement of your bodies as you walk. He never wants to let you go again, now that he has you back.

Donna recounts her memory, “Head of the choir. She said, ‘It’s not a war song. It’s jolly.’ That’s what she said, ‘It is jolly.’”

After a brief moment of silence, you turn to Donna with a silly expression, “Mrs Bean?” The three of you burst into laughter at the absurdity of the last name, wondering just how unlucky someone must be to carry a vegetable as their surname for the rest of their life.

“Fenslaw.”

An automated voice echoes through the speakers of the spaceship, causing the pillars and panels to click and clatter as they shift and move around you three. You, the Doctor, and Donna stand still in concern, watching as everything unfolds before settling back into place.

“What was that?” Donna asks with narrowed eyes.

The Doctor frowns as he tries to understand, “Like circuits moving. Or it’s reconfiguring to become…”

“But what was that word? Fenslaw. What’s that mean?” Donna asks.

The Doctor shrugs, “I don’t know. The TARDIS translates, but now it’s gone.”

“No, the TARDIS translates for me. I thought you knew twenty-seven million languages.” Donna points out.

“I know fifty-seven billion two hundred and five, but not this one.” The Doctor says matter-of-factly, and you roll your eyes at his subtle brag. Then he tilts his head slightly, “Unless it’s Mr Fenslaw saying his name?”

Donna shakes her head, “It wasn’t that.”

The Doctor nods and agrees as he parrots back, “It wasn’t that.”

Donna turns and places her hands in the pockets of her coat, jutting her chin out in the direction where the unknown species or object stands from a distance and says, “Jimbo didn’t move. What is that?”

The Doctor begins, “Oh, wait a minute. If I’m right…” Then he steps on a button on the floor with his grey converse, and a mechanism hisses before popping up a small orange hovering transport vehicle. Donna chuckles in amusement as she moves to sit in the passenger seat on the far end.

The Doctor gives you a cheeky grin and exaggerates his accent as he says to the two of you, “Your car, milady.”

“Thank you, Parker.” Donna says with her own exaggerated accent. You sit in between them as the Doctor drives.

After a few meters of driving, the object comes into view, and you say with realization, “Oh, it’s a robot.”

The Doctor pulls the vehicle to a halt, and you three exit the cart as you stand in front of the white, round, and old robot. The Doctor then says, “Hello, Jimbo. Can you talk?” The robot doesn’t move or make a single beep, and the Doctor continues to try to talk to it as he bends down to its height, “You got basic communications, Fenslaw? Fenslaw. No?” He moves an inch closer as he slowly speaks to it, “Fenslaw.”

With no response, the Doctor resorts to knocking on the white metal of the robot’s head, and a hollow echo sounds out. The Doctor waddles a little backward as he continues to ask, “Have you got controllers listening? Hello, I’m the Doctor, this is my soon-to-be-wife the Stargazer,” you interject him by saying, “Haven’t agreed to anything, yet.” He ignores it and continues with introductions, “This is Donna. We need help. We need to—”

He’s cut off as the Doctor takes a slow and mechanical step forward, causing the three of you to jump and take a step back. “Is that it?” Donna asks, wondering if there’s more to it than the robot.

“One step at a time.” The Doctor says, and Donna spirals, “What is it? Maybe it’s an invader. Maybe that’s the hostile action.”

Then you look around the robot, observing it, before remarking, “I think it’s just old. See, look at the rust.”

“It’s primitive if you don’t mind me saying so, Jimbo. Someone got a very old robot out of storage to walk very slowly down a very long corridor.” The Doctor says before taking a long inhale, “Why?”

“Maybe… time slowed down.” Donna guesses and you and the Doctor shake your heads. You then say, “No. We’d feel it in our bones.”

The Doctor points at the robot while saying, “Stay there, Jimbo. No sudden moves.” He then tilts his head back on the cart, “Onwards?” You and Donna hum before following the Doctor back to the cart.

Donna lifts her hand and tells the Doctor, “Uh, I’ve got it.” As you climb into the cart, Donna says, “Allons— as the idiots say— –y!”

She steps on the gas, and the car moves forward, zooming along the corridor. Eventually, you reach the end of the corridor, revealing a door. The three of you move to the door, which slides open.

The door behind you slides down shut as the Doctor calls out, “Hello? Is anyone home?”

With no response, the three of you push forward. The entire room glows in cool blue light, leading you to the front of the ship where you find an empty captain’s chair and two monitors attached to the front.

“Well, definitely a spaceship,” Donna comments as she steps forward to look out the large window in the front, continuing, “If that’s space.”

The Doctor hops into the pilot’s chair, saying, “We’ve got a chair. That’s a good sign. It’s a life form with a bum.” He presses one of the switches on the control panel, adding, “If I can translate their basic one to ten, I can find out where we are. And when. And why.”

Putting on his glasses, the Doctor reads out the screen, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Now I can read the base codes. So, life signs?” After pressing a few buttons, the computer whizzes and chirps, and the Doctor frowns, “None. Just an empty chair.”

“Where have they all gone?” Donna asks, leaning forward, and you feel something shiver up your spine, as if you’re being watched around the corner.

The Doctor hums, “The spaceship seems to have powered down. Basic functions ticking over.” Then something catches your eye, and you point out on the monitor, “Oh. Someone opened an airlock door three years ago. And then it closed.”

“What for?” Donna asks with wide eyes and continues, “This whole ship has been empty for three years?”

“Don’t know,” the Doctor mumbles as he reads the symbols on the screen. Then he realizes and says, “Those numbers are lenses. There’s a camera.” As you lean a little closer to see what the Doctor is saying, you feel him tug you closer and suddenly let you sit in his lap, your entire body flooding with warmth.

You squirm in his lap and playfully smack his shoulder as he lets out a yelp, “Ow!”

You look at Donna apologetically, and she gives you a knowing smile, not letting the display of affection affect her. She hasn’t seen the Doctor this happy in ages.

The Doctor flips a few switches while explaining, “Like a drone. We can see where we are.” As the drone activates, you see what it’s seeing on the screen in front of you, and the Doctor chuckles in excitement, tightening his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he mumbles, “Well, it’s definitely a spaceship.”

Donna asks, “What kind of spaceship?”

“Don’t know,” the Doctor replies honestly. Then the drone appears from the front of the ship, shining a bright flashlight in your direction. The Doctor moves his head to the side and uses a hand to wave, “Ah! Hello!” which you see on the monitor to your left.

“But if we’re in space, there are no stars,” Donna points out and then asks, “Where are the stars?”

“We could be inside a dust cloud or a mavity well, or—” The Doctor pauses suddenly as he reads the screen to his right, “Oh.”

“What?” Donna asks with concern in her voice, and the Doctor shakes his head, “No, it’s fine. The ship is lost. It fell through a wormhole.”

“Ending up where?” Donna inquires, and you frown as you try to translate the rest of the symbols. The Doctor sighs, “I’m sorry, Donna. The TARDIS was out of control. It’s taken us…”

“To the edge of the universe,” you say, finishing the Doctor’s sentence. The drone moves away, and Donna takes a step forward toward the glass, where a void of pitch black is on the other side.

“So, what’s out there?” Donna asks with a subtle shift in her tone, a little scared. The Doctor taps your hip to stand, which you do, and the two of you follow Donna to look at the view of the edge. The Doctor removes his glasses and pockets them as he begins to say, “Well, that’s difficult… for you because if the universe is everything, then the concept of everything having an edge is, mmm, kind of impossible. But that’s the language of 21st-century Earth, and you don’t know anything yet.” The Doctor pauses and adds, “Not being rude. You just don’t. When you discover Camboolian Flat Mathematics, you’ll discover it’s possible.”

“What?” Donna asks softly, and the Doctor replies, “That. The nothing. At the edge of creation. Absolute nothingness.”

Donna then says, “But starlight travels. You can stand in my garden and look at the light from stars a billion miles away. So, where’s the light?”

You nod to the corner and say, “Over there. It just hasn’t reached us yet.” You then point and explain, “If we flew in that direction, it would take a hundred trillion years to reach your house.”

You see Donna’s eyes glaze over and water, “That’s my family. Over there.”

The Doctor comments, “I’ve never been this far out.” He then places a hand on the glass, “To stand here like this.” He begins to softly say, “Physically. Unprotected. Right on the edge.” He then places his other hand on the glass and leans forward to observe the empty void. Absent of stars and light. He continues, “No one ever has. Not ever. Till us. And this ship.”

“And an airlock that opened three years ago. And closed,” Donna says, and the Doctor pushes himself off the glass and inhales, “Yeah.”

Suddenly, a loud metal clang reverberates throughout the ship, causing the three of you to whip your heads around to see the source of the noise. You rush out of the pilot’s room, and the door slides up and opens, revealing nothing.

“Must’ve been just settling,” the Doctor says, and Donna looks around skeptically, “You said no signs of life. Are you absolutely certain?”

“Coliss.”

The deep automated voice echoes, and you watch as the hexagonal panels and large pillars begin to flip and switch, clicking and clattering before coming to a stop.

“It said fenslaw and coliss. Like a list. Or a solicitors. Or a countdown. Or instructions.”

“Or a warning,” Donna adds.

The Doctor’s brows furrow, and he puffs out his cheeks. “Slow warning,” he says as he turns around back inside the pilot’s area with you two following him.

“I think this way,” the Doctor says, spinning to the far right end of the room before entering a different section and saying happily, “Yes! Base plate repetition filaments.” He pats both of the drawers that glow a bright orange before pulling a drawer while letting out a small gasp, “Huh.”

He then pulls one of the filaments out, and it creates a squelching sound as he does, vocalizing, “If we move one up…” It drips out goo as he inspects it, and Donna asks, “Is that stuff dangerous?”

“No. I don’t think so,” the Doctor says. He moves to sniff it before sticking his tongue out on the filament, licking the goo, and you and Donna make gagging noises as you groan in disgust.

Then the Doctor shakes his head, “No.”

As he goes to put the filament back, he begins to gag and groan, clutching on your arm and you and Donna begin to panic. “Doctor! What—” You begin to say but then he suddenly stops and stands straight, “No.”

You and Donna whack him on the arm in annoyance with his little joke. He pulls the top drawer and, placing the filament on top, he says, “Clip it into the fold back. Can you do that? Take all the rectangles, move them up there.” The Doctor asks Donna, and she replies, “What does that do?”

The Doctor then explains, “The ship's on neutral for some reason. It’s just idling. We need to get it back on full power.”

He then grabs your hand and begins to drag you away from the room, and Donna calls out, “Well, don’t leave me on my own.” The Doctor spins around with you in his grip as he says, “Donna, there is no one else on board this ship.”

Donna retorts with, “Hostile action, remember?”

As if on cue, a metal clang thumps and creates an echo throughout the room, and Donna asks, “And what’s that?”

The Doctor shakes his head, “A noise.” Donna scrunches her face as she sarcastically replies, “Oh, well, you’re very helpful.”

The Doctor takes a step back with you, and Donna says, “Go on then. And hurry back. You little streak!”

“I need to find the spindle. That’s not like wool. It’s a water pivot.” The Doctor says, and you look back at the Captain’s chair. You tell him, “I’ll try and see if I can access any of the logs.”

The Doctor nods, and you walk off to sit in the pilot’s seat. You hear the Doctor exclaim at the end of the hallway, “That’s it! Can you still hear me?”

You hear Donna yell out, “No,” as you let out a little hum of acknowledgment.

“Good. Good. Won’t be long.” The Doctor says from the spindle room, and you tap the monitor, trying to understand each symbol to see if you can find out what happened during all those years this ship was lost.

You exhale in frustration, conceding defeat in your attempt to access the logs. Slouching back into the chair, you cross your arms, and a visible puff of warm air escapes your mouth with each breath. A slight shiver courses through you, prompting a tighter embrace of your own body, as you curl into a small ball. Surveying the vast empty void at the edge of the universe, there's a profound absence of light, sound, or anything discernible.

Donna enters your field of vision, and you inquire, "You alright? It suddenly got colder." She responds with a nonchalant, "Yeah, 'm fine."

"Already done with the filaments?" you ask incredulously, and Donna hums in affirmation, "Yeah."

Raising your eyebrows, you nod, "Alright then." Donna moves to stand with her back to you, gazing into the abyss. After a brief silence, she asks with a tone void of emotion, "Did you ever miss it?"

"Miss what?" you seek clarification.

"Running away with the Doctor?" She clarifies, and you lean your head back, looking up at the ceiling as you hum in contemplation. Eventually, you settle on, "I did, sometimes... The thrill, the chase, all the excitement... because I often thought to myself, 'What would I give for another run with the Doctor?' or even just to catch a glimpse of him. Then as the years went on when I..." You release a deep breath before continuing, "I realized I didn't miss any of that... I just... I missed him."

"But I couldn't... even the thought of my desires versus the entire universe collapsing. I just— I never thought I would ever see him again." You say and Donna lets you continue, “Now he’s back and… it all feels so surreal. And I fear that there’s going to be a price to pay.”

"My arms are too long," Donna suddenly declares, and you frown, "I don't think so."

"No, seriously, look!" Donna insists, and you divert your gaze from the ceiling to see her facing you. Your eyes widen as her arms appear unusually long and huge in front of you. You jump out of your seat, taking a step back, "What—"

"Star! Star, are you there?" you hear the Doctor call from behind you, and you shout, "Yeah! What about Donna? Is she there?"

Turning around, you rush to the middle of the room to find the Doctor. Donna does the same, and you both clutch each other as you watch the three duplicates move toward you. Fear laces Donna's voice as she asks, "What are they?"

“They’re us,” the Doctor says, and Donna denies it, not wanting to believe as she says, “They’re not us.”

You watch as your clones walk into the room. The Doctor's double says with zero emotion, “The notion of shape is strange.”

Your doppelganger remarks, “It limits. It is limiting.” As it waddles from the other room where Donna once was, a consuming fear sets in. “It limits. Limits everything,” you hear the Donna clone say as it walks forward. The Doctor tries the friendly approach, “Whatever shape you want to take, that’s fine. You can do whatever you want. I just want to say it’s very nice to meet you. I’m the Doctor, this is the Stargazer, and this is Donna.”

Donna chimes in, “So are they.”

As the unknown creatures move a step closer, you three take a step back to the door that leads out to the corridor. The Doctor raises his voice, “If you can just get those bodies to calm down, we can talk. That’ll be nice, don’t you think?”

“They’re looking at us like food,” Donna says, and the fake Doctor says, “Food is interesting. Because once I sort out the arms…” You watch as it stretches back to a normal size, and then it continues, “then I have a problem with the jaw.” The creature-like-Doctor’s jaw stretches down to the floor, and the three of you are wide-eyed in shock, confusion, and fear before it clicks back into place.

“It’s the knees. How many knees?” The other-Donna asks, and your non-Doctor replies, “Two.”

“Two in total, or two in each leg?” The non-Donna asks, and you hear the sound of cracking as it adjusts its knees.

The three of you take a few steps back, and the door behind you opens. The Doctor asks, “Where did you come from? You’re not part of the ship, are you? Did you come from outside?”

“We came from the nothing,” your doppelganger says as it twitches and resets her wrists while stepping forward. “We are No-things,” the Not-Doctor says, and the Not-Donna adds, “But you. You are not nothing.”

The Doctor replies, “Oh, I think you’ll find we’re quite something.” The three of you hastily jump into the transport cart, the Doctor seizing the driver's seat while you and Donna squeeze into the passenger seat as the No-Things pursue you.

Then, a menacing growl echoes from behind. You and Donna glance back to witness the No-Things crawling on all fours, steadily growing larger. Donna exclaims, “Oh, my God, they’re growing!”

“Come on!” The Doctor urges, stepping on the gas and shifting gears. Donna raises her voice, “Go faster!”

“I know!” The Doctor responds, and you feel a slight tug on the back of the cart. Turning around, you see the Not-Doctor gripping it as he crawls. You and Donna grab tools from the back as the redhead declares, “No, you don’t!”

You two start to strike the Not-Doctor's hand, and your Doctor announces, “I can’t control it!”

“You stupid big hand!” Donna yells out in anger, and it eventually releases its grip on the cart, flinging you and Donna forward. The Doctor shouts, “No, no, no, no, no, no!” The cart crashes into a hydraulic pillar but manages to regain control, only for the Not-Donna to throw its hand at the side of the cart, causing you to spin out of control.

The Doctor rips out the steering wheel, and Donna screams as the spinning comes to a halt. You watch as the three No-Things expand and become entangled in each other’s limbs, hissing and growling at you three. The engine sputters as you sit there in shock. Donna then asks uncertainly, “What are they?”

Exiting the vehicle, the cart's frame falls apart, causing a loud clatter. You turn around to see the Doctor approaching the chaotic mess in front of you, and you groan, “Oh, no, don’t!”

“We’ve got to see,” the Doctor says, walking a little forward. The metal groans under the weight of the twisted limbs and squished faces. The Doctor mumbles, “It’s strange enough my face coming back, but not this big.”

“The airlock door three years ago. That’s when they got in,” Donna states with a nod, and the Doctor adds, “No-things. No control of shape. No concept of shape or size.”

“How can they get bigger? ‘Cause you only get a certain amount of mass, don’t you? Shaun used to complain about that watching Venom films. He said, ‘Where’s the extra mass come from?’”

You then recall the chill you felt as you sat in the pilot’s chair, pointing out, “It got colder.”

Donna agrees, nodding as she announces, “Oh, yeah, it got colder for me.”

Glancing back at the No-things, you conclude, “Heat into mass.”

The Doctor builds on that, saying rapidly, “But they’re not just physical copies. They’ve got our thoughts, too. That other Star, she mentioned Gallifrey and Mars.”

“The other Stargazer said, ‘Wilf’,” Donna remembers, pointing to your copy.

“The Not-Donna asked me if I missed all the adventures with the Doctor,” you add with disbelief.

“So they’ve got our memories,” the Doctor concludes, and Donna shudders, “Okay. So they’re copies with memories and mass, but what I don’t get is why do they hate us?”

Suddenly, one of the hands drops onto the metal floor, causing a loud thump, and the three of you jump back, letting out yelps. Donna looks at it with a concerned tone as she says, “That’s my hand.”

The metal begins to creak, and you look around as the Doctor points out, “They’re getting free. We should reason with them. Try to make peace. Welcome them to our side of the universe.”

The No-things roar in anger and disgust, and you flinch. The Doctor takes a step back and remarks, “Maybe later.”

As the three of you turn to run, the Doctor points out the three hexagon panels with steps on them, exclaiming, “I know, I know. Ladder. Do you think? Maybe up there?” You see a small exit hexagon, and Donna shrugs, “Let’s go!”

The Doctor climbs first, leading the way as you and Donna follow him up. But you hear the familiar automated voice resonate throughout the speakers of the ship, “Brate.”

The Doctor groans, “Oh, not now!” The triangle panels begin to flip, and you feel each hexagon shape slide opposite sides. You hear Donna exclaim, “Doctor! Star!”

“It’s okay. I’m right here!” the Doctor says right before the panel flips inwards, and he’s out of view. You watch as Donna slides down from the ladder and into a different area of the ship. Your hexagon moves upwards and flips inwards, flinging you into the interior of the spacecraft. You let out a yelp as you land on your bum, and suddenly the three of you are separated.

Fatigue etches lines of frustration across your face as you wearily rub your eyes with both hands. With a sigh, you push yourself upright, casting a glance down the dimly lit corridor. The soft hum of glowing pipelines provides the only illumination as you traverse the hallway, the occasional hiss of escaping air and steam accompanying your footsteps. Abruptly, a door slams shut behind you, prompting a swift turn of your head. Shaking off the interruption, you continue walking forward in the eerie silence of the spaceship's metallic passageway.

You discover a ladder and descend, the metallic clangs echoing in the confined space. Moving forward, the whirring of systems shutting down and rebooting accompanies your steps. The flickering lights above cast erratic shadows, and as you exhale, your breath materializes in the cold atmosphere.

Finally, you reach a door, stepping out just as the Doctor emerges simultaneously. A moment of uncertainty hangs between you two.

You cautiously take a step back, asking, “Are you—”

The Doctor interjects, “Is it—” A shared pause ensues, and you murmur, “But it got cold.”

“I know I’m me,” you assert with narrowed eyes, and the Doctor affirms, “Well, so am I.”

Frustration flickers across your face as you lick your lips. The Doctor initiates, “Tell me, how did we meet?”

“When?” you inquire.

“The first time we met, how did we meet?” the Doctor specifies.

"At the Academy. What was the color of the sky back on Gallifrey?" you respond, then throw a question back at him.

“Orange sky and trees with silver leaves. That reflected the morning sunlight, making it look like the forests were on fire. You and I would have picnics outside of the Capitol when we didn’t want to show up for class… your eyes would shine like starlight, and I… I knew then that I loved you.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and your bottom lip trembles as you say, “You didn’t say it then.”

“I can say it now,” the Doctor pleads.

You purse your lips, feeling a wavering resolve, and shake your head, “You also hated me back then.” The Doctor shakes his head, attempting to step forward, but you take two steps back, edging closer to the door. “After what I had done. When you found out who I was and where I came from. A rift in time. A supposed observer who interfered with fixed points in time when I had to save everyone. I had to save… you.”

The Doctor begins, “You and I both know it wasn’t your fault. After the Rift, the Time War, and Mars…”

You shake your head, swallowing down your guilt as you take in the way he looks at you. It wasn't him, but the weight of the past bears down on you. Another step back, and this time the Not-Doctor grimaces and says mockingly, “You and your sad backstory. ‘Oh, woe is me! I started an entire war! I altered a fixed point in time! Boo hoo! I should have died.’ Blah, blah, blah. No wonder the Doctor left you on Earth! You are annoying to be with. And you are right about one thing, you should have died! Why didn’t you die? Hmm?”

Gritting your teeth, you head out the door and slam the button shut, running down the corridor. The echoes of harsh words linger in the cold metallic passage. Exhausted, you eventually stop to catch your breath. Sliding down one of the walls, you can't contain the streams of tears flowing down your cheeks. Quiet sobs escape, and you cup your mouth with your hand, trying to muffle the sound, the weight of emotions overwhelming you in the dimly lit corridor.

Taking a deep breath, you try to settle yourself down, a skill you've honed over years of navigating the guilt within. You've learned not to be ashamed of your survival. You did what you had to do, continuously clawing your way out of the ache, cutting through the pain to the bone. It was never going to be pretty, but deep down, you know it will always be worth it.

You bury your head in between your curled-up knees, seeking solace as you take another breath and sniffle. Suddenly, loud banging echoes from a few meters down the hall, and amidst the clamor, you recognize the voice shouting. The Doctor's frustration is palpable as the grunting and banging continue. You remain still, waiting in the silence that follows. When the noise subsides, the Doctor notices you. He comes to a stop, and as he meets your tear-stained gaze and red-rimmed eyes, you say nothing.

Anger seems to cloud the Doctor's expression, evidence of the harsh words exchanged with the Not-You or Not-Donna. Yet, his demeanor softens as he kneels to your level, whispering, "Is it you?"

Weakly, you mumble, "I think you know."

He draws you close, his arms enveloping you, and his warmth provides a comforting embrace. Placing your head on his chest, you admit, "I should have known the it was the Not-Doctor I was speaking to, but I—"

The Doctor shushes you, planting a gentle kiss on the side of your head. "I was tricked too. I'm here now, love. Wasn't your fault." Gently rocking the both of you back and forth, he eventually stands up, offering a hand for you to take and pull yourself up. Moving through the hallway, this time, he doesn't let go.

“Gilvane.”

You find another door, and upon entering, you are met with the peculiar sight of your doppelgangers and potentially the real Donna. As you and the Doctor survey the two sets of clones – one set of you and the other Donna not holding hands – the two Donnas exchange uncertain glances. One Donna breaks the tension with a comment, "I’ve gotta say, this is the biggest nightmare of my life, but… I look quite good."

"I can’t argue," the other Donna adds. The Not-Doctor then points at your Doctor, demanding, “I want to talk to you. You Not-Doctor. I know you’re a fake. I know for a fact. So I want to know why you’re doing this.”

Your Doctor frowns, “That’s what I was gonna say!”

“You should have been faster. ‘Cause that’s me, isn’t it. Fast. Am I fast? Do I talk fast? Yes.” The Not-Doctor rattles off rapidly. Your Doctor retorts, “But you’re a copy of me! You’re only fast because I am.”

“You seriously want to marry this one?” The Not-You asks, and you nonchalantly reply, “Of course you’d know. Spent almost my entire life with him, might as well.”

“Oh, well, I can’t follow any of this. And that is proof. ‘Cause let’s not pretend. I’m the stupid one,” the other Donna interjects, prompting the Doctor to squeeze your hand as he questions, “You think you’re stupid?”

The other Donna replies, “Of course I do.”

“That’s very Donna,” your Doctor says, and the Not-Doctor chimes in, “That’s so Donna. That’s my Donna.”

“Except Donna does not think she’s stupid,” you point out, and the two Donnas say, “Oh, but I do.”

You shake your head, “No. Donna thinks she’s stupid, and sometimes she thinks she’s brilliant. She thinks both. Because that’s the astonishing thing about people from her planet. They can believe two completely different things at exactly the same time.”

After a moment, Donna looks at the both of you with your intertwined hands, grinning, “Brainbox and Stargirl!”

“Earthgirl!” You and the Doctor say in unison as the three of you reunite, sharing a group hug. Suddenly, the sound of cracking fills the air as the No-things begin to stretch. The Doctor swiftly whips out a salt shaker, exclaiming, “But salt! You can’t cross salt. In our universe, it is said that vampires, demons, and ghosts cannot cross a single line of salt until they’ve counted every single grain.” He starts drawing a line of salt in front of you before lifting the shaker up, “You’ve got no choice!”

“But that’s a superstition,” the Not-Doctor says, and your doppelganger adds, “Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“It’s a superstition, and it’s true. Two things at once,” the Doctor asserts, and the Not-Doctor attempts to call him out, “You’re lying.”

Challenging him, the Doctor exclaims, “Then walk towards me. Come on. Stop copying and make your own minds up. Cross the line!”

The Not-Donna glances at your Donna and says, “She doesn’t believe him.”

“But you said I’m stupid,” Donna points out, to which the Not-Donna retorts, “And also brilliant.”

Your Donna sneers at her copy, “Then which one is it, Donna? Cross the line. Or count.”

As if the Not-Donna couldn’t help herself, like an impulse, she gets on her knees and begins to count each grain of salt, mumbling numbers as she does. Now all that stands is the Not-Doctor and the Not-Stargazer who stands there staring at the three of you.

“So tell me. What do you want?” The Doctor asks, to which the Not-Doctor responds, “You tell us.”

“It didn’t get cold this time.” You point out, and Donna agrees, “No, it didn’t, did it?”

“Which means you’re acclimatizing. Your arms are a bit too long. Your mouths are a bit too wide. But are you stabilizing?” The Doctor inquires, and Donna adds, “Like they’re becoming us properly.”

“I just wonder why.” Your Doctor says aloud, and the Not-Stargazer singsongs, “Why?”

Donna realizes something as she says, “Because the TARDIS will come back for us. They know that. So if they become completely us, the TARDIS will come back for them.”

“Is that what you want? Escape?” The Doctor asks with his hands in his pockets. Suddenly the tone of the Not-Doctor shifts and explains, “We drifted here. In the lack of light. Passing no-time.”

Your copy continues, “But we would feel it. From so far away. Your noisy, boiling universe.”

“We want to travel there. To play your vicious games and win.” The Not-Doctor says with a grave tone.

You frown as you say, “If you existed here with no shape, no form, no purpose, then what’s made you so bad?”

The Not-Stargazer replied with eyes devoid of emotion, “The things we felt, they shaped us. Carrying across the dark. We could hear your lives of war. And blood and fury and hate. They made us like this.”

“We are more than that.” Donna spits out, and the Not-Donna says, “Love letters don’t travel very far. And neither do your lies.” She then blows the line of salt away, and you three step backward as your clones begin to have sharp teeth as they hiss and growl at you.

You feel your back against the wall, and suddenly the automated voice can be heard once more, “Stond.”

The lights flicker as the panel behind you begins to flip you three around, clicking and clattering, and Donna remarks, “That’s lucky.”

But the panel flips you back to where you were, and Donna whispers, “Or not.”

“Run?” The Doctor asks, and you and Donna agree, “Run!”

You sprint through the corridor, timing it perfectly as one of the doors manages to stall them before you re-enter the captain's area. The Doctor gestures a hand and says, “Come on!”

After pressing a few switches, a glass panel slides down from above, dividing you three from the No-things. As they stare at you three, Donna asks, “Why? I don’t understand why. What are they scaring us for?”

“Problem is, ten minutes ago they’d have ripped that door off its hinges. Now they’re just standing there. Locking into shape. Almost complete,” the Doctor comments, and Donna presses, “Yes, but if you just listen to my question, thank you very much. Why are they making us so scared? If they wanna copy us, why don’t they just sit in a corner and do it? Why terrorize us?”

The Doctor’s face lights up and says, “That’s a very good question.”

“Yes. I’m brilliant.” Donna says while bouncing on her tip toes.

“Why provoke us? Unless… that’s how it’s done. The more scared we are, the more blood pumps. Hypothalamus. Adrenaline. We think faster and faster and faster.” The Doctor says as the pieces begin to click.

“It makes us easy to copy.” You remark, and the Doctor takes a step towards the glass as he says, “Goosebumps, like braille. You’re reading us. Is that right?”

“Well, what do we do? How do we stop ‘em? Stop being scared?” Donna asks urgently, and the Doctor says, “Like the ship all ticking over in neutral. Donna, stop thinking.”

Donna laughs nervously, “Well, that’s easy for me. What about you two?”

You look at the Doctor as you pull your lips to the side, “Took up meditation for a bit, so the only one with that problem is him.”

The Doctor takes a deep breath and says, “Just calm. Just cool.”

“Yeah, I’m calm.” Donna says with a deep inhale, and the Doctor comments, “Even calmer.”

“Well, you do it too.” Donna says, and the Doctor exclaims back, “I am!”

Donna grits her teeth, “Mmm. Stop rattling me!”

“Will you two just shut up!” You say.

The Doctor softly says, “Slow. Slow heartbeat. If we’re slow, they can’t read us.”

“Okay.” Donna says, and the Doctor replies, “Good. Shhh.”

After a few moments of complete silence, Donna asks, “For how long?” And the Doctor replies, “Uh, there’s a flaw in the plan.”

The Not-Doctor decides to bait him by asking, “How can you not think on a ship full of questions? Why the empty chair?”

Not-Stargazer adds on and asks, “Why do the walls keep moving?”

Not-Doctor asks, “What are the words in the air?”

Not-Donna asks again, “Why did the airlock open and close three years ago?”

You and Donna say simultaneously, “Don’t.”

Your Doctor begins to protest, “But—”

Both of you are firm as you say, “Don’t. Stop it.”

Then a sudden loud metal clang rings out once more, and the Not-Doctor asks, “And what is that?”

“Doctor, stop thinking.” You warn but eventually the Doctor relents and groans as he says, “Let me think. Let me think.”

The No-things begin to chant creepily, “Think! Think! Think! Think!”

The Doctor moves to a few switches and buttons on the wall and begins to press and pull each of them as he says, “What is making that noise?”

The rooftop panel whirs as it slides open, revealing a glass roof, and the three of you look up, and the Doctor says, “There.”

You watch as a creature in a spacesuit floats in space with no helmet, the skull of what once was. You frown, and the metal hook clangs as it thumps against the glass. “The Captain of the ship.” You say somberly, and the Doctor adds, “Circling round and round forever. Caught in the gravity field.”

“Caught in the what?” Donna asks, and you quickly clarify, “Mavity field.”

“But why? Did they throw him out? Her out. Them out.” Donna says with a breathy voice, and the Doctor says, “Her. I wonder. Why is the captain outside? Why is she in a spacesuit with no helmet?” He turns around to face the No-things and catches their expressions, he says, “And why don’t you know?”

The Doctor moves closer to the glass as he looks at the Not-Doctor; he growls as he says, “I know that face. I know my expressions very, very well, and you don’t know. The captain did something you don’t understand, but what?” The No-things begin to say, “Tell us! Tell us! What did she do? What did the Captain do? What did she do?”

You move to stand next to the Doctor as he says, “They don’t know. They really don’t know. The questions aren’t a test. They need the answers. We’re all stuck in a system because of the Captain.” He groans as he jumps up and asks, “What did she do?”

Donna shakes her head and points out, “Well, if they want the answers, don’t tell ‘em!”

“You know what my head’s like, Donna, once I start having ideas.” The Doctor explains, and the Not-Doctor interjects, “Then I have ideas. So the captain…” Not-Donna looks at him and finishes, “Tried to stop us. But how?”

“Wait a minute.” Donna begins, “If they don’t know why the Captain’s outside… The airlock door three years ago wasn’t them coming in. That was her going out. She killed herself.”

“But what for?” The No-things ask in unison from behind the glass.

The Not-Doctor says, “She hid her thoughts.” And the Not-Stargazer explains, “So we couldn’t see.”

You watch as the Doctor’s expression turns to understanding, the final bits of information making sense in his head. His mouth opens in a silent gasp as he exclaims loudly, “Maximised automatic brain function! Oh! Well done, Captain. Because she knew. Even with a lost ship, if you were found one day, if you three ever reached the universe, you’d run riot across the stars!”

Your eyes widen in realization, adding, “And you were already becoming copies of the captain. You’d have owned this spaceship. If you’d copied her perfectly, you could’ve flown the ship home and started your war!”

The Doctor points out, “So, she ended her life to hide whatever it is she left behind. Because when she died, you hadn’t completed her. So you lost everything she knew. Gone.”

The lights flicker as clicking and clattering sound throughout the ship, and Donna asks, “What is that?”

The Doctor runs around animatedly, beginning to explain, “That captain, calm as a Zen master, set in motion to stop those three. And she took her own life so they couldn’t work out what she’d done.”

The Not-Doctor grins, “But you’re working it out right now.”

The Doctor shakes his head as he denies it, “No, I’m not. Mm-mmm.”

The Not-Stargazer smiles as she tilts her head, “Yes, you are, and so is she. Therefore, so am I.”

You bite your lip and try to calm your racing thoughts, standing next to Donna for support. Then you hear the Not-Doctor begin to say, “It’s all about slow. We don’t understand the slow, so the captain set out to slowly stop us. So the ship is slow. The robot is slow. The words are slow. Is that it?”

You see the Doctor holding it in as he bounces out the energy, and he shakes his head, “Nope.”

The Not-Doctor continues, “The words move the walls, so the ship is slowly reconfiguring to become a very slow…” The Doctor finishes the sentence for everyone, “Bomb.”

“What?” Donna asks with a high-pitched tone, and the Not-Doctor explains rapidly, “The captain set the self-destruct slowly so the words are a very slow… countdown.”

The Doctor groans out in frustration as he throws his arms up in the air, “I said so! I said countdown straight away! It’s that simple.” He sighs, “I translated the numbers. I’d never heard them out loud! ‘Fenslaw, coliss, brate,’ means ten, nine, eight.”

The Not-Doctor turns to the Not-Donna and says, “The robot.” The three of them move to the door that leads to the long hallway, and as it opens, the Doctor flicks a switch to lock it.

The Not-Doctor glares at you, “We’re as clever as you now. That robot won’t stop us!” It begins to flick a few buttons and switches by the nearby control panel next to the door. You and the Doctor move about the area, flicking switches to try to override the system they were trying to break.

Donna quickly asks you two, “So, what’s the robot?” And you reply, “The robot is the trigger. A primitive mechanical brain that those two couldn’t read, taking three long years to walk a very long corridor with one slow instruction.”

“Kaboom.” The Doctor finishes as he twists a few knobs before pressing a button, and Donna says, “Countdown. What number are we on?”

“Ratico. That’s five.” The Doctor says as he slams his palm on the button, closing the door once more, “It’s been counting down for years, but the TARDIS brought us here just in time for the final sequence! We can’t let them reach that robot. There’s only one way we can stop them.”

You move about to flick a few more switches and rapidly slam your palm against a few more buttons as the Not-Doctor, Not-Donna, and Not-Stargazer begin to rip out different wires. “What’s that?” Donna asks, and you hear the Doctor say, “I’m sorry, Donna. But the countdown needs to speed up.” The Doctor then slams his palm on the button, and an alarm begins to sound along with the automatic voice, “Vandeen.”

Donna begins to panic as she yelps, “That’s number four!”

“We know!” You and the Doctor say, and Donna shrieks, “But we’re still on board!” To which you both reply in unison once more, “We know!”

But then the No-things manage to get the door open, you hear the Not-Doctor say, “Stop that robot!” To which your Doctor says as he presses a button that lifts the glass divider, “Don’t stop that robot!”

“Could the robot just wait!” Donna says as she runs after both of you.

“Blinss.”

“That’s three!” Donna says as she pushes her legs faster to try and catch up to you. Suddenly, the Not-Stargazer turns around and hisses at the Doctor, throwing herself on him to try to stop him, but he shoves her aside only for her to attack you.

Donna slows down a moment as you wrestle with your double, and you yell to Donna, “Keep going!” The redhead nods and keeps running, following the Doctor. You manage to get the upper hand as you maneuver your weight and lock your knees to her waist, saying, “For some odd reason, this is going to be theraputic.”

You smack her across the face, tumbling off the No-thing, and proceed to run after the Doctor and Donna.

“Sensill.”

“That’s two!” Donna announces from in front of you as you feel your lungs expand and deflate while running after them. But then, you're taken down by the Not-Stargazer from behind, and you shout out in pain as you roll on the floor with her.

As you wrestle yourself to the ground, you hear the TARDIS whizzing as it floats down, playing the song Wild Blue Yonder. The lyrics and the music echo, “Off we go into the wild blue yonder. Climbing high into the sun.”

The Doctor snatches his sonic screwdriver from the keyhole and steps into the TARDIS with Donna climbing inside, pushing it forward with his foot like a scooter towards you and your double. As the Doctor and the TARDIS are in front of you, you hear the automated voice echo, “One.”

The Doctor's voice reverberates, urgent and probing, “What was my nickname at the Academy?”

“Theta Sigma.” The simultaneous reply from both you and the Not-Stargazer hangs in the air. The Doctor scrutinizes both of you, his keen eyes flickering between your faces. His next question pierces the tension, “What happened on Trenzalore?”

“Nine hundred years of battle and that’s where you were buried,” The Not-Stargazer asserts confidently, a sense of triumph coloring her words. However, your gaze remains distant, memories of Trenzalore flooding your mind, and you avert your eyes from the Doctor's penetrating gaze. He swiftly ushers you into the TARDIS, slamming the door shut.

As the flames engulf the three No-things, their screams echo in the air. The TARDIS whooshes away, leaving behind the burning remnants. The three of you huddle on the floor inside the time machine, wrapped in a comforting embrace.

THE TARDIS — SPACE

After the intense ordeal with the No-things, a collective decision is made to refresh and rejuvenate. In the soothing confines of the TARDIS, you find a moment to cleanse yourself from the recent events. The warm water cascades over you in the shower, washing away the remnants of the unsettling encounter. Drying your hair, you change into a fresh set of clothes, embracing the renewal that accompanies the change.

Exiting the room, you traverse the winding corridors of the TARDIS, making your way to the control room. The Doctor, having already cleaned himself up, is engrossed in the myriad buttons and switches that adorn the console. As you approach, he turns, a warm smile gracing his features, “Hello, love.”

With a hum, you encircle your arms around his waist, and he reciprocates by wrapping his arms around you. A tender exchange of glances unfolds as you gaze up at him. Offering a small smile, you inquire, “How did you know it was me?”

“You could never bring yourself to talk about what happened that day. Not once after that, you never mentioned it again,” he replies. Pressing your forehead against his chest, you take a deep breath, absorbing his freshly cleaned scent.

“I know you were the one who saved me and brought me to Earth after the Time War,” you admit. He furrows his brow, “How did you figure that out?”

Sighing, you recount, “The No-thing appeared as you when we got separated and said some really hurtful things... but he also mentioned you were the one who brought me to Earth. You saved me. All those years ago…”

The Doctor exhales before planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head, “You saved me. It was only fair.”

“I love you,” you declare, feeling his smile against your forehead. “I love you too.”

"She'd almost completed you," the Doctor shared, his gaze fixed on Donna as she joined them at the console. "The other Donna was a 99.9% copy. Except I thought, 'What's wrong?' Turned out her wrist had an extra 0.06 millimeters. Obvious, really."

Donna, hands resting on the controls while you expertly pilot the TARDIS, quipped, "The devil's in the details," and the Doctor agreed with a nod, "Yeah, isn't it just?"

After a brief pause, he mused, "Oh, I keep thinking, 'I wish I hadn't done that thing with the salt.'"

Donna shook her head, dismissing it, "What, the bad luck thing? That was just a lie."

"Normally. Except I invoked a superstition at the edge of the universe, where the walls are thin and all things are possible," the Doctor explained with a slightly shaken tone. "I just got this feeling."

“What?” Donna inquired, and the Doctor, after a momentary space-out, shook it off, saying, “Which is gone. Fine. Good. Onwards.”

The Doctor moved to pilot alongside you, adjusting knobs as he continued, “So anyway. I was wondering, she said on the spaceship— That other Donna had your memory. She could remember us as the DoctorDonna. So she could see my life and my mind and my thoughts for the past fifteen years. All the time we’ve been apart, she could remember it. Can you?”

Donna blinked, contemplating, and replied, “No. It’s too much. It’s like looking into a furnace. But I suppose she had a great, big, outer-space brain. She could make sense of it.”

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Why?” Donna probed, and the Doctor mumbled, “Just wondering.”

“What did she see?” Donna persisted, and the Doctor, puffing out his cheeks, evasively said, “Ooh. Things.”

“Like what?”

The Doctor remained silent, prompting Donna to push further, “Come on. Where have you been since I last saw you? What’s happened?” Attempting to shrug it off, he nonchalantly said, “Oh, you know, the usual. Robots, chases, waterfalls.”

Donna mockingly nodded, “Oh, okay,” before giving him a scrutinizing look and asking, “But what really happened?”

The Doctor's expression turned sad and tired as he admitted, “A lot.”

Donna nodded in understanding, then turned to her friend and asked, “You okay?”

The Doctor, opting for candor, grasps your hand, affirming, “I will be.”

“When?” Donna inquires, tilting her head, and the Doctor responds, “A million years.”

The TARDIS emits a pleasant ding, signifying your arrival as it materializes. The Doctor, wearing a contented smile, notes, “Ah. There we are, back home.”

Donna strides towards the TARDIS doors, commenting, “You timed that to get out of awkward conversations.” She then rushes down the bridge, calling out, “Where are they? Where’s the family?”

As you prepare to step out, the Doctor playfully pulls you back, encircling your waist with his arms, prompting a delighted squeal, “Doctor!”

“Wait, I have a present for you,” he announces, positioning you by the console. With a gentle push, a concealed compartment reveals a new sonic screwdriver—silver and gold with an ergonomically designed handle. Overwhelmed with excitement, you bounce up and down, unable to contain your joy. Seizing the Doctor's face, you plant a passionate kiss on his lips, and in that moment, the Doctor melts into the warmth of the affectionate embrace.

“My own sonic screwdriver. Thank you.” You say to him as he gives you a grin, “Consider it as a wedding present.”

You lightly smack his chest and say, “I expect a proper proposal, Doctor.”

He kisses your cheek, “Of, course dear.”

CAMDEN MARKET, LONDON — MORNING, 2023

Intertwining your hands, you and the Doctor emerge from the TARDIS, greeted by Donna and Wilf. Donna beams triumphantly, exclaiming, “I said so!”

Wilf gasps, hand covering his mouth in shock, while the Doctor grins, “Wilfred Mott. Oh, now I feel better.” Wilfred erupts in delighted laughter as you and the Doctor approach him, enveloping him in a warm hug. The Doctor affirms, “Now, nothing is wrong. Nothing in the whole wide world.”

Stepping back, the Doctor smiles broadly, addressing Wilf, “Hello, my old soldier.”

“I never thought I’d see you two again after all these years. Oh, the Doctor, that lovely face. It’s like springtime,” Wilf chuckles, and the Doctor nods to Donna, remarking, “And Donna’s got her memory back.”

“Without dying, which I recommend,” Donna adds with a smile. However, you hear distant sirens, not giving them much thought. Wilf grins, “Yeah, well, I knew it. I never lost faith. I said, ‘He won’t let us down. He’ll come back and save us.’”

Both you and the Doctor frown, and he questions, “Save us from what?”

Donna asks anxiously, “And where’s the family? Where’s Rose? Are they all right?”

Wilf reassures Donna with animated gestures, “Yeah, they’re fine. They’re safe. I’ve told them to bunker down, and I’ll keep watch. I said, ‘You save yourselves.’”

Your eyebrows knit in concern as you ask, “Why? Is there something wrong?”

Right on cue, the food truck in the background erupts in flames, people shouting and screaming, chaos ensuing. More people join in the madness, hitting each other, and the Doctor queries, “What’s going on?”

The tumult intensifies, with people shouting and cursing, and Donna implores, “What is it? What’s happening?”

Wilf attempts to explain, “It’s everybody. It’s everything. They’re all going mad. Listen, you’ve got to do something, Doctor! The whole world’s coming to an end!”

As an airplane approaches, its engines emitting smoke, people scream and clamour. The plane crashes in the distance, prompting the Doctor to swiftly move Wilf's wheelchair to the front of the TARDIS, shouting, “Quickly!”

Taking cover, the four of you shield yourselves from the ensuing blast, and amidst the chaos, you can't help but wonder if the kiss was somehow connected to this impending disaster.

TAGLIST:

@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @matthew-lilards @a-dash-of-cinnamon @imthedoctorlove @scoliobean @allophonicmess @mirkwoodshewolf @jaziona92 @melloww-akira @crowleythesexydemon @pedrettilov3r

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Choices in Silence

Author's note: Catius's next chapter. Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric.

Past =-= Next

Warnings: A Bit of A Panick Attack From Ramiel, Let me know if I need to add anything.

Summary: Catius gets back to base. Warns Cedric, and they split up to warn the rest of them. Catius doesn't realize that Hura's listening in to their panicked worry. He offers a solution; come to the Chaos Base and hide out there until Chaplain Captain Petras leaves. For it's likely the Chaplain Captain and his war band will visit the base for various reasons.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Catius had returned swiftly from the city back to the base, with only about half of the things that he was ordered to requisition from the base line human city.

He checked in and did the proper procedures to make sure that the items were in inventory and then headed in to check in with Captain Ash’val before being told to stay in the base.

He nodded and then practically ran towards where he knew Cedric was, his helmet off and eyes wide with fear as he warns Cedric about Chaplain Captain Petras being in the city. Again.

Cedric’s reaction is understandable, Catius catches the object that he had in his hands and informed his fellow Apothecary that he was going to inform the rest of the Primaris Marines that they knew of about his presence.

Cedric recovered with admirable swiftness and he says shakily, “I will tell Ramiel.”

“Okay, I’ll tell Jophiel and Claude then,” Catius says as he carefully sets down whatever finnicky Apothecary thing he’d caught as Cedric’s hands had shook and understandably grown clumsy with terror.

Cedric had been the one to find Ramiel as the other was murdered by his Mentor for the crime of being a Primaris Marine. There is much that they haven’t spoken of to their elder cousins and brothers from different Eras about what things are like in M42. Mostly because whatever they do tell them, seems to upset the lot of them. Catuis gently squeezes one of Cedric shoulders as he tugs the other in for a brief hug, gently tapping their foreheads together.

“Claude will have hiding spots in mind for us, whether we are all together or split up,” Catius said. “He… he’s with one of the Feral Warbands of Black Templars. They don’t tend to stay in base line cities in Ancient Terra for long. I... informed Captain Ash’val of- of… him and the danger he represents to you and Ramiel specifically.”

“He’s a threat to all Primaris,” Cedric points out quietly.

“Yeah,” Catius says with a nod, “But, per The Rules, if he goes after non-chapter loyalists for no good reason it will get him and his War Band into an amount of Trouble that he likely won’t want to deal with.”

“… He Challenged Lord Helbretch on his decision to allow us to live,” Cedric argues.

“And he suffered the consequences for it,” Catius pointed out with a hopeful ting to his voice.

What Catius did not notice when he’d bolted into the storage room that Cedric was in, was that another Apothecary had been with Cedric. An older Apothecary. A Chaos aligned one. Hura had paused in what he was doing when the Scout-ling Catius had burst into the room wild-eyed and spooked. Wondering if he or one of the others had found yet another wounded Primaris Scout-ling.

What he learned of, at least vaguely was about some Schism that happened within the Loyalists of The Black Templars. About a Loyalist Chaplain Captain who murdered a Loyal Scout-ling. One he specifically chose to train. Hura’s hands slowly clenched into fists. How wasteful! He’d met skittish young Ramiel, who was a quiet, and dutiful young man.

He’s quite frankly impressed that the youngster hadn’t decided to go ‘fuck it, I’m going Renegade or Chaos’ for such a betrayal. First Born brothers had done so for less. Apparently the psycho-indoctrination in M42 is far more advanced. Not that he’s surprised.

“He might come to this base,” Hura pipes up.

Both youngsters jump and whirl to face them, eyes wide. He stops himself from chuckling, youngsters occasionally forgot to check their surroundings when so upset. Which was fine, he’s honestly pleased that he didn’t register as A Threat, at least for the moment.

“As he’s a Loyalist, and even the Feral War Bands have to come to base occasionally when they are in the city for check ins on what they have seen, and medical checkups,” Hura says honestly. “Among other, various things.”

The way the Scout-lings curl in on themselves, recoiling in horror at the thought of that. The despair on their faces and mounting panic as they look at each other. Even if they do hide in this base. They have a higher likelihood to be found by him or his war band mates, simply by being in the same space.

“I have a proposal,” Hura continues, after pausing to see the impact his words are making, “You could come visit the Chaos Base in the city, for a while, once this… Petras leaves, you would be free to come and go as you please. Not that you wouldn’t before, of course.”

The Base Commander, among many other Chaos Marines had heard of Primaris Marines, but very few of them had actually ever seen, much less met a Primaris Marine. Also, he’d be stealing these adorable, competent youngsters from the Loyalists for a while.

“We will think on your offer, sir,” Catius says diplomatically. “It… your offer is appreciated?”

That sounded more like a question, but he nods generously to the youngster. It’s understandable, after all, they will have to decide, whether individually or as a group what they feel is safer. Stay in the Loyalist base where a known murderer of one of their Friends is coming. Or go to the Chaos Base, and all that entails to hide out in for a while.

“Let me know either way,” Hura says with a patient nod. “There are plenty of options. I know there is a Blood Angel and Lamenter base nearby that would be happy to take in Jophiel, and likely the rest of you as well, for a time at least.”

Catius and Cedric make complicated faces at that. Which Hura notices and tilts his head a little. Interesting reaction. Especially since young Jophiel is in Blood Angel armor, and has a very rare blessing for a Son of the Great Angel. His holy wings, and a Psyker’s power, well trained in Loyalist fashion.

“The Blood Angels do know about Jophiel… right?” Hura asks, brow furrowing.

The looks they give each other, and the suddenly placid masks on both of their faces. “What they do or don’t know isn’t something I’m aware of. Sir.”

Ah, that was from the young Ultramarine, in that smooth tone of bland nothingness. Which likely meant that no. Jophiel hasn’t reported into the Blood Angel and Lamenter base yet. Which is interesting since the youngster has been here for several months. That speaks of… something. Sons of the Great Angel, no matter the chapter tend to flock together and are quite a tight knight lot.

From what Hura knows of the Ninth Legion they are particularly protective of their Psykers, and of their brothers who have more of the Great Angel’s rarer traits. Perhaps the lad doesn’t want to be smothered for being the only winged one of his brothers in this hemisphere? Or does it imply something else about M42, something darker, and grimmer.

[nixwriteschaos]

Hello! Can you do a part two to the Aizawa fic where the merchant reader accepts and moves on, and then a few years later he barely recognizes aizawa when they see each other again? Thank you!

Troubles Coming Back

Street!Rat!Aizawa x Merchant!Male!reader [Aladdin AU] Summary: Years went by without a hitch. Y/N had gone his separate way, forgetting Aizawa and getting caught up in all his traveling and selling work. When he came back from a long trip after his quarrel with Shota Aizawa 5 years ago, he was unexpectedly robbed. Who’s the robber?

★☽A/N: Oooo! This will be interesting! I didn’t exactly plan to have this to have a part two so I will try my best!

Contents: SLIGHT ANGST - FLUFF

════❖════

“Y/N! It’s so great to see you!” A black-haired woman greeted the H/C-haired man with a smile and open arms. Y/N smiled gleefully and embraced Jasmine in a tight hug. “It’s been too long! You didn’t even write a letter!” Jasmine laughed.

Y/N also laughed in response. “I know, I know! I’m so sorry!” He apologized. The rest of the day was spent talking about their life while the other was gone.

The 36 year old man was shocked to hear that Jasmine had married Aladdin, a streetrat. But it made sense to him after she explained the whole story from her perspective and from Aladdin’s. He had to admit, the topic about Aladdin made him think about Aizawa…

He couldn’t believe it… He missed him?

The memories of how they ended things flooded his mind. He had shivers down his spine just thinking about it. He wished he hadn’t said all those things to Shota.

Though, it was too late to go back from what he said all those years ago.

════

He was taking a stroll in the marketplace. He wanted to buy some things that he needed for his next trip next year, like ink and paper. It was safer to prepare objects such as that since it might increase in worth when it is less in stock and more in demand.

Y/N had lovely talks to familiar faces who were glad to see him after all those years. He was quite shocked that they still remembered him. L/N had a bad reputation as a kid, always running around and giving people death glares.

The only people who actually liked him when he was still a child and teenager were the old librarian, the king, Jasmine, Aladdin, and…

Shota.

He stopped in his tracks.

He couldn’t believe he was thinking about Aizawa again. After all these years, he didn’t expect himself to think back to his quarrel with the black-haired man.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

The H/C-haired man did not want to think about the man anymore. All he wanted to do was to work on his work and not to work on his past broken relations. Everything that happened 5 years ago, should stay in the past, not in the future and bothering him with guilt.

“Y/N!” The man turned to find Aladdin, dressed in much more cleaner clothing than he last saw him in. He couldn’t help but snicker. “Can’t believe you’re wearing cleaner clothes! Hah!!” He laughed. Aladdin laughed along, patting his back like he used to do.

“Now, that’s just mean!” He laughed back.

The pair ended up talking about their lives when the other wasn’t present, just like Y/N did with Jasmine. Suppose the two of them were too loud, because some passersby looked at them with strange looks.

Later, Aladdin had to do something else so he said his goodbyes to Y/N and walked the separate way.

════

Finally, he ended up finishing up his shopping and got what he needed. It was all in his traveling bag.

He was walking past the alley, bright with street lights. Y/N definitely wasn;t expecting his bag to be taken away from his bag in one swift move by a passing person. But he was quick with his instincts and grabbed the bag before it was out of view.

His action caused the robber to stumble back and fall to the ground. Y/N wore his bag again and bent over the fallen robber. He wanted to memorize the face and dragged the robber to the police to report him for the thief.

He took a closer look at the face and entire look.

Long black messy hair, half of it was tied in a messy bun. Sharp cat eyes with dark circles under, black eyes staring right back at him. A dark scruffy goatee on his chin that seems to be maintained well. A single scar across his right cheek, underneath his eye.

“Shota..?” Eyes widened and mouth agape, he looked over with shock. The dark-haired man was also shocked to see a familiar face. “Y/N! I didn’t realize it was you–” Aizawa rushed to say his words, trying to pick himself up.

Y/N gave him a hand and pulled him right back up. “I nearly didn’t recognize you! Your hair gotten longer!” Y/N smiled. He didn’t even realize how much he missed his hoarse voice. He always found it annoying back then, but now… he had a whole different feeling about it.

Aizawa blushed at his comment. “Yeah… It’s a bother to cut it..” he answered, twirling a strand between his fingers. He couldn’t believe that he was seeing Y/N again! Last time he saw him, he looked messy. Now, Y/N looked much cleaner. He looked mature and wise.

The two of them just stood there in silence. In their heads, they had no idea how to talk to each other. Afterall, they end things in a heated arguement.

With a deep sigh, Shota turned to Y/N with a frown on his face. “Look,” He took a step forward. “I’m really sorry for how things ended. I know it’s too late to say this, but– I love you and I’m so sorry I said all those words to you. I never mean to say them, they just came flooding out-”

He was suddenly pulled into a deep and passionate kiss. His eyes wide and his back arched as he was pulled into a kiss by his past lover. His eyes closed and his hands rested on the side on his neck and on his hip.

The two of them pulled apart, a long string of saliva connecting the two of them, their faces flushed and colored a deep red. Shota didn’t realize Y/N was crying until a few drops of water feel to the ground. He looked up at Y/N’s pitiful face.

His eyes were staring at the ground, tears flooding his vision and falling to the ground like rain. His whole body was shaking and hiccups and sniffles could be heard from the older man. “Hey, hey–” Aizawa lifted his head with his hand, revealing his bloodshot eyes from how much he was crying.

“I’m so sorry we ended things like we did. I didn’t want to say all those things– I swear, I-I didn’t mean to!” Aizawa slowly shushes him with a soft smile. “You shouldn’t apologize. I know life must’ve been hard on you.” He pressed his forehead against L/N’s, trying to soothe him.

The two of them ended up staying in that position for a long period of time.

Both relieved the other still loved them just the way they are. Just like old times.

════❖════

★☽A/N: HAHA, I’m not so good at making endings!! Let’s just hope this one goes well!

[naffeclipse]

Apex Polarity Personality Quiz

This is a small little thing for fun I made in order to have an excuse to make more things for Apex Polarity and its wide aurora of AUs and variations on setting and Y/Ns.

1. Claws, teeth, ravenous appetite, equally as devouring gaze.

To you these qualities describe -

A. A dangerous wild animal

B. Potential husband

C. The stalker who keeps leaving dead things at your address

D. All of the above

E. Are you in danger?

F. Circle if you need help

G. Yes

2. What you look for most in a partner

A. Obsessive feral devotion

B. Good with kids

C. Humble

D. Passionate

E. Good hunter

F. Bear trap level cuddler

G. Serial mental note taker on everything you say and do

H. Overprotective to a fault, perhaps very much at a fault.

3. Your favorite pastime.

A. Immersion in nature and being out in the wilderness

B. A cold dip in the sea

C. Basking in the sun

D. Acting like you're a dolphin

E. Curling up in a warm space

F. Spending quality time with your loved ones

G. The joys of parenthood

4. Your preferred superpower (totally not escape methods)

A. Teleportation

B. Super speed

C. Invisibility

D. Shapeshifting

5. Your favorite animal/animal you resonate with the most

A. Arctic fox, phantomlike and swift, hiding behind snowdrifts when danger stirs. Your instinct is to avoid the grip of vices no matter how tempting, except perhaps if your stomach is involved.

B. Penguin, despite the cold weather and unforgiving ice, you are soft at your epicenter, from inside it radiates, and like a mirror you are equally as besotted by that which is as innocent and gentle.

C. Beluga, spun sweet and melodic, on your voice is carried the play of heartstrings like the gentle waver of quivering arctic waters and dancing sunlight. You sing and although it is fearless, the depths do not murmur in vain.

D. Seal, eccentric and woven into everything you do, you tend to stumble over your nerves but when in your element you are freed from all anxieties. The world may have taught you caution but In time you may learn to embody this grace wholly.

E. Narwhal, reclusive but mystical at the same time, perilously shy, and gentle but possessing fierce zeal in dire situations. Unfortunately, your likeness to a unicorn is reflected in others and far from many intentions are pure.

6. What is the most valuable in your eyes

A. Sentimental things even long years after they've run dry of their practical use

B. Shiny objects like rocks and trinkets

C. Natural wonders and displays of the world's phenomena

D. Food and guaranteed survival

E. Companionship

Score

Count how many like numbers you get (aka, all 4s, 2s, etc) and group them to find how many you got each. The highest quantity number is the winner.

(Important!) - Some answers can have multiple numbers assigned to them, in order of most indicative to least. Add these as well, their order has no meaning or weight on the score itself unless a tie occurs.

Further Explanation Guide

- Totaling - Count the amount of each number separately to see which one got the highest amount, if you get 7 4s, 2 3s, 4 1s and 6 2s, 4 is the winning number because there are the most 4s.

Example - Answered D on 1, D has the numbers 1, 4, and 3. Therefore you would add each a 1, 4 and 3 to the pool of numbers for your result.

- Ties - If you get a tie you use the highest favor number of each answer to settle it, or you can enjoy your multiple results. The most favored number is always the first listed.

Answer Guide

- 1. Claws, teeth, ravenous appetite, equally as devouring gaze. To you these qualities describe -

A - 4, 3 | B - 3, 4 | C - 2, 1, 4 | D - 1, 4, 3

E - 4, 1, 2 | F - 1, 2, 4 | G - 4, 3

- 2. What you look for most in a partner

A - 4 | B - 3, 1, 4, 2 | C - 3, 2, 4 | D - 4, 1

E - 3, 1, 2 | F - 3, 2 | G - 4, 1 | H - 2, 1, 3

- 3. Your favorite pastime

A - 4, 3, 1, 2 | B - 3, 2 | C - 2 | D - 3, 1

E - 4, 2, 3 | F - 3 | G - 3

- 4. Your preferred superpower (totally not escape methods)

A - 4 | B - 3 | C - 2 | D - 1

- 5. Your favorite animal/animal you resonate with the most

A - 1 | B - 3 | C - 1, 2| D - 2 | E - 4, 1

- 6. What is the most valuable in your eyes

A - 4, 3 | B - 1, 3 | C - 4 | D - 1, 2, 3 | E - 3, 2, 4

Results

📷 Polar Y/N - Mostly 4s

🐧 Harpy Y/N - Mostly 3s

🦭 Selkie Y/N - Mostly 2s

🧜 Siren Y/N - Mostly 1s

Let me know if anything felt inaccurate or incorrect. I tried my best while still not reading much of AP because of mental health issues making it really too taxing to read a lot like as in books or fanfiction etc. Most of this is based on the various AU posts for Apex Polarity. You can adjust stuff if you feel like it doesn't fit.

[justicegundam82]

3.5 to PF1e Conversion: Waterveiled Assassin

Welcome back! This is a conversion I've honestly been eager to do someday.

Back in the good old 3.5 days, there was this evil god, Tharizdun, who was basically like a previous version of Rovagug, in that it just wanted to wreck everything and had suckered the four evil Archomentals (Ogremoch, Yan-C-Bin, Imix and Olhydra) into working for his agenda. Each evil Archomental had some favored avatars for carrying out their will, which were appropriately called Avatars of Elemental Evil.

Since I liked those creatures well enough, and I thought they can easily be incorporated in the Golarion setting with only a few changes... I'd like to try my hand at converting them, starting with the Waterveiled Assassin. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think and where I can improve!

WATERVEILED ASSASSIN

Image (c) Wizards of the Coast, from Monster Manual IV, author Daarken

Before you stands a monstrous, vaguely serpentine shape made of water, with hateful eyes and a mouth turned into a wicked sneer barely visible in what passes for its face.

WATERVEILED ASSASSIN       CR 15

XP 51’200

NE Large Outsider (elemental, evil, extraplanar, water)

Init +12; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +22

DEFENSE

AC 28, touch 17, flat-footed 20 (+8 Dex, +11 natural, -1 size)

hp 225 (18d10+126); fast healing 5

Fort +18, Ref +19, Will +12

Damage Reduction 10 / -; Immune elemental traits

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft., swim 60 ft.

Melee 2 slams +25 (4d8+8 plus grab)

Space 10 ft.; Reach 20 ft.

Special Attacks churn, drench, engulf (DC 27, 4d8+12), grab, water mastery

STATISTICS

Str 26, Dex 27, Con 24, Int 10, Wis 19, Cha 15

Base Atk +18; CMB +27 (+31 grab); CMD 45

Feats Cleave, Combat Reflexes, Engulf Revulsion, Great Cleave, Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Lunge, Power Attack, Skill Focus (Stealth), Vital Strike

Skills Acrobatics +22, Bluff +16, Intimidate +16, Knowledge (planes) +16, Perception +22, Sense Motive +20, Stealth +32, Swim +36

Languages Aquan

Special Qualities liquid body, malleable form, one with water

ECOLOGY

Environment any (Elemental Plane of Water)

Organization solitary

Treasure standard

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Churn (Ex): As a swift action, a waterveiled assassin can batter opponents it has engulfed with mighty currents that it creates by controlling its own shape. All creatures currently engulfed within the waterveiled assassin’s body take 4d8+12 points of bludgeoning damage as the currents try to tear their bodies apart. A successful Fortitude saving throw (DC 27) halves the damage taken. The save DC is Strength-based.

Drench (Ex): The waterveiled assassin's touch puts out nonmagical flames of Large size or smaller. The creature can dispel magical fire it touches as dispel magic (caster level 15th).

Liquid Body (Ex): A waterveiled assassin exercises supreme control over its watery form, allowing it to flow around attacks, flatten itself against the ground to avoid a spell’s blast, and so forth. Any effect or spell that allows a Reflex save for half damage has a 50% chance to have no effect on a waterveiled assassin. Even if it is affected, the waterveiled assassin can still attempt a saving throw against the spell’s effect as normal. This ability also gives the waterveiled assassin a greater reach on its melee attacks, effectively increasing its natural reach to 20 ft.

Malleable Form (Ex): A waterveiled assassin’s control overits form allows it to flow through tiny cracks in objectsand move through the earth, walls, and other obstacles.The assassin moves at normal speed through terrainthat slows movement. It can move through permeable objects at half speed, but it cannot move through completely solid barriers, such as those produced by a wall of stone or wall of force spell.

If a waterveiled assassin ends its movement completely within an object, opponents do not have line of sight or line of effect to it. Its reach drops to 0 feet. Any creatures engulfed within the assassin automatically break free of the grapple and fall prone in a square adjacent to the object. If only part of the assassin is in an object, but its remaining space cannot hold all the creatures within it, the assassin may choose which ones to release.

One With Water (Ex): A waterveiled assassin that is completely immersed in a volume of water that’s at least 15 ft. wide, 15 ft. long and 15 ft. deep is effectively invisible, as per the greater invisibility spell.

Water Mastery (Ex): A waterveiled assassin gains a +1 bonus on attack and melee damage rolls if both it and its opponent are touching water. If the opponent or the waterveiled assassin is touching the ground, the assassin takes a –4 penalty on attack and melee damage rolls. These modifiers also apply to bull rush and overrun maneuvers, whether the assassin is initiating or resisting these kinds of attacks.

A waterveiled assassin is a creature of living water sent by Kelizandri, the evil Elemental Lord of Water, to slay his cult’s enemies. This deadly killer can flow through the smallest cracks to ambush and engulf foes, and its fluid form and mastery of water lets it strike at opponents from unexpected angles.

The waterveiled assassin is a canny hunter, making use of terrain advantage and of all their special abilities to surprise foes and dispatch them quickly. A waterveiled assassin has no use for a fair fight; it usually approaches its target in open water, taking advantage of its invisibility, or hides within a wall or a large non-waterproof object that can contain its bulk. When its target closes, the waterveiled assassin surges forth, rolling over its foe and trying to drown him or batter him to death in its liquid body. A waterveiled assassin usually focuses on the least armored foes, knowing they are more likely to be arcane spellcasters or to have dangerous abilities, and drags them off to an isolated spot for the kill.

If a waterveiled assassin has a weakness, it is overconfidence – an assassin might leap on a party’s wizard or sorcerer while disregarding physically capable combatants, and giving them the chance to heap severe punishment upon the elemental.

A waterveiled assassin’s form is unstable, but it usually stands about 12 feet tall and weighs 1'000 pounds.

[mariacallous]

Earlier this year, Gavin Newsom, the governor of California, launched a podcast that promised direct conversations with people he disagrees with. In reality, it featured him sucking up to figures from the MAGA Extended Universe. In the début episode, the guest was Charlie Kirk, an influential young right-wing activist and commentator; Newsom suggested that his thirteen-year-old son was so excited to meet Kirk that he wanted to skip school to attend the taping. (Newsom didn’t let him. “C’mon,” Kirk objected. “You cancelled school for like two years!” Newsom seemed to find this funny.) The following week, Steve Bannon came on the show and said that the 2020 election was stolen; Newsom let this slide. Recently, in the wake of the protests against immigration raids in Los Angeles, Kirk and Bannon have returned Newsom’s hospitality by, respectively, calling him “the fakest person I’ve ever met” and comparing him to John C. Calhoun. Newsom, for his part, has pushed back strongly against the Trump Administration’s militarized response to the protests, challenging Tom Homan, President Trump’s border czar, to arrest him (“Come and get me, tough guy”) and tweaking Trump himself in TikTok memes inspired by “Hamilton” and Taylor Swift. With enemies like these, who needs friends?

Jay Caspian Kang pointed out in this column, in March, that Newsom’s podcast always seemed doomed to fail—not to mention “embarrassing”—because his conciliatory approach was out of step with polling that indicated liberals want to see Democrats fight Trump’s Republican Party, not get along with it. In a different column, Kang similarly took issue with a school of thought, advanced most explicitly by the veteran strategist James Carville, holding that Democrats should “roll over and play dead,” allowing Trump to burn himself out. As Kang put it, this strategy never seemed viable, either, and several recent developments signal that playing dead is, well, dead. Newsom’s newfound combativeness is one example. Another came last week, also in relation to the L.A. protests, when Alex Padilla, the normally mild-mannered California senator, confronted Kristi Noem, the Homeland Security Secretary, at a press conference, and was forced to the floor and handcuffed by federal agents. This week, there were similar scenes in New York City, where agents arrested Brad Lander, the comptroller and a candidate for mayor, while he was accompanying a migrant in immigration court. In between, millions of anti-Trump demonstrators protested across the country under the banner “No Kings.”

It’s possible to see all this as the dormant resistance to Trump finally awakening. But that isn’t really correct. As I wrote in the first days of the new Administration, Trump’s opponents may not have marshalled anything like the enormous Women’s March of January, 2017, but civil-society groups had started to organize their supporters, and many of Trump’s early moves were quickly challenged in court. Since then, there have been a lot of protests—even more, by one count, than in the equivalent stretch of Trump’s first term—though the media, as Kang noted, hasn’t always covered them to the same extent. Newsom may only just have found his voice, but other leading Democrats—the Illinois governor, J. B. Pritzker, for example—never lost theirs. Earlier this year, I felt sure that this sort of activity would spread and intensify, as it now has, if only because Trump’s political project ultimately requires resistance—which generates conflict—in order to thrive, and he will keep pushing until inevitably provoking his opponents.

Newsom is a case in point. His grovelling may have been of some use to the likes of Kirk and Bannon, but he’s much more useful as a foil, an avatar of a woke élite that’s imperilling America. Being a foil may be useful to Newsom, too. One ally told NBC that if Newsom were to be arrested for supposedly obstructing Trump’s immigration raids, it would be his “Nelson Mandela moment”—a comparison that has surely not been made before, and hopefully won’t be again.

We are, unfortunately, at the point in this column where I must capitalize the word “Resistance,” and maybe add a hashtag for good measure. As I’ve previously noted, with these accoutrements, the word comes to signify something more than merely fighting back, becoming freighted with the cultural signifiers of the liberal opposition to Trump’s first term. (Think “Notorious R.B.G.” tote bags, Jimmy Kimmel proposing that Trump become a ceremonial king in exchange for going away as President, the cast of “Hamilton” confronting then Vice-President Mike Pence.) As Trump returned to office, this #Resistance did appear to be dead. Now Newsom is posting “Hamilton” memes, and Jimmy Kimmel has shown up at a “No Kings” protest. I do still think we’re in a different moment. (The old Twitter is gone, for starters.) But the basic animating spirit of the #Resistance has clearly survived.

Still, it remains an open question what a new Resistance might look like, how it might cohere or be channelled. In February, Kang posed precisely that question in this column. He toyed with historical precedents—Goldwater Republicanism, the Tea Party—but found them imprecise and largely unhelpful. He described the contours of a “nü-Resistance”—which he characterized as “angry, oppositional, and ideologically chaotic,” and severed from various pillars of the Democratic establishment—but wasn’t yet sure where that energy might go.

Nearly half a year later, we have some new data points. The framework of a Democratic Tea Party remains unhelpful—but something is going on inside (and, now, outside) the Democratic National Committee, which has recently been riven by threats to primary complacent incumbents (and, now, Democrats who support going to war with Iran). These tensions have been whipped up, most notably, by David Hogg, the Parkland shooting survivor turned activist turned short-serving D.N.C. vice-chair. (After other D.N.C. leaders clashed with Hogg, his election was invalidated on procedural grounds, and he ultimately declined to run again for the post.) And Newsom, Padilla, and the “No Kings” protests appear to have harnessed some of the loose energy recently.

But other reported efforts to counter Trump’s appeal—throwing money at influencers in the hope of finding the “next Joe Rogan,” a project to study “the syntax, language and content” that appeal to young men—demonstrate the limits of top-down attempts to cultivate political energy, as well as the persistent staleness of the institutional Democratic brand. At this stage, it seems to me that “young men,” never as homogeneous a voting bloc as imagined by post-election pundits, are vastly more likely to get bored of MAGA than to be seduced by the political equivalent of Steve Buscemi with a skateboard asking them, “How do you vote, fellow-kids?” More substantively, the ideological contours of the new Resistance still feel unsettled. Uncompromising opposition to Trump’s most brazen maneuvers does increasingly look like a unifying approach. But, even there, consensus is not yet total. Some Democrats have fretted that Trump’s L.A. crackdown is bait to distract them from kitchen-table issues. Gretchen Whitmer—the governor of Michigan and, like Newsom, a leading candidate to be the Democrats’ next standard-bearer—has pursued a strategy of working with the Administration. If Newsom’s podcast supplied the most humiliating audio of the new Trump era, the most humiliating image was surely a photo of Whitmer physically hiding in the Oval Office as Trump signed orders to investigate a pair of first-term officials who went on to criticize him. This hasn’t seemed to hurt her standing—at least in Michigan—and she has been able to tout some policy victories, most notably obtaining new fighter jets for a local base.

As with Newsom, I suspect that Trump will at some point drive Whitmer past breaking point. (Already, he has suggested that he might pardon the men convicted of trying to kidnap her, in 2020; what happens if he attempts to send the Marines to Detroit?) Then again, the notion that Newsom started his podcast with the pure intention of reaching out to MAGA, only to be met with actions that he couldn’t possibly accept, may underplay his political cunning. It’s not hard to imagine Newsom embarking on the podcast—which, as Kang noted, immediately went down horribly with the Democratic base—knowing full well that he would soon be back in Resistance-leader mode, but seeing it, in the interim, as a useful way to distance himself from progressive totems that he perceives as toxic (for instance, trans athletes competing in girls’ sports, which he disavowed to Kirk), or something to point to and say, “Look, I really did try reasoning with these people!”

And this is assuming that Newsom actually has pivoted away from the podcast-conciliation strategy, which isn’t clear, even if he certainly has moved toward Resistance leadership. As recently as June 4th, he posted another cloyingly folksy conversation, this time with Dr. Phil, who described himself as “the least political person I know” before extolling family values and weighing in on “pro-Hamas” protests on college campuses; two days later, the L.A. raids began. (Dr. Phil was on the scene, having been granted special access, for some reason, to document immigration-enforcement actions.) Last week, Newsom was interviewed on “The Daily,” the New York Times’ flagship podcast, and without any prompting stressed that he has “no problem meeting with people and talking to people I disagree with,” as “some of your viewers and listeners may know.” Asked about his podcast, he indicated that he still sees it as “incredibly important” to show “a little humility” toward his adversaries, and to listen.

Back in February, Kang concluded that, when it came to the emerging opposition to Trump, “what we are seeing is not a shift in policy preferences but, rather, the dissolution of traditional political logic in this country.” I’m not sure I’d go quite this far. It’s perfectly logical, in light of how Trump is behaving, that the opposition is intensifying; it is also not surprising—or necessarily concerning—that Democrats haven’t yet articulated a coherent new policy platform less than a year on from a priors-shattering defeat. But Newsom and many of his fellow-Democrats do seem to be trying to have it both ways—to prove that you can joke around with Steve Bannon and post “Hamilton” memes about Trump without disappearing down the gaping chasm between those acts. When I last wrote about Trump resistance in this column, it was to argue that it will have to coalesce, if it does at all, within a fragmented media ecosystem; Newsom, perhaps, is trying to game the choose-your-own-adventure quality of this ecosystem by putting out different content that might seep into, and resonate within, very different filter bubbles. I think this is doomed to fail because it (and he) is palpably inauthentic, and authenticity—or, rather, the perception thereof—is king in this media environment. But someone else might manage to do it. If the new Resistance remains hard to define, that’s partly because it’s still early. There’s no inevitability of neat coherence down the line. One thing is for sure: the mass protests will continue. 

[howdyousleepatnight]

Out of hell (part 3)

Pairing : Josh Dun x Fem!Reader - Tyler Joseph x Fem!Reader

Warning : Swearing, dystopia, violence

Word count : 3,189

Summary : You find yourself all alone in the unknwown land of Trench. What's gonna happen now ? Will you be able to survive on your own ? Maybe you'll meet new people...

(Remember, English’s not my first langage :) Enjoy!!!)

The rain was beginning to fall. Hard, very hard. The sound of the storm was getting closer and closer. Sand continued to fly and whip across my face like swifts. Still, I pushed forward, my arms hiding part of my face, although this didn't stop the wind from slowing me down. I made my way towards a sort of cave, created by the rock between the stone walls.

Once inside, I let my back hit the cold stone wall and fell to the ground, allowing my body to take a breath. I remove my bag from my back, as well as the rebel's bag. Light was scarce in the cave, but the part where I had just sat allowed it to shine through a little.

“What could possibly be in this bag ?”, I wondered inwardly. It must have been something important if the bishops wanted me to bring it back... I'd been told it contained information about the banditos, but was it true or was it just an excuse to test the loyalty of Dema's citizens ?

I made the decision to carefully open the bag, just like it was an ancient relic that should not be broken. After opening the strap that closed it, I lifted the top part and looked inside. Not seeing properly, I plunged my arm into the bag.

“A hammer?”, I said aloud, confused, feeling the cold, metallic object. I pulled it out, and indeed, it was a hammer. I put my arm back in, looking for something else, something more interesting, desperately to convince myself that Nico hadn't sent us for just a poor bag of junk. I pulled out more accessories, each as mundane as the next: yellow tape, matches and lighters, a first-aid kit.

I felt a pang in my heart, and my doubts started to emerge. That was until I felt paper on my fingertips. My heart stopped for a brief moment, my breath caught in my throat, and my body froze at the touch of the familiar yet unknown object.

“So they weren't just sending us out to test us...”, I felt reassured in a way, but another part of me wondered what could possibly be in that notebook for the bishops to be willing to send us out of Dema in handfuls.

I was curious about its contents. So, slowly but surely, I took it out of the bag. The red color on the outside of the notebook caused my eyes to widen. I held it in both hands, turning it in all directions, and feeling it with my fingertips. It appeared both real and unreal simultaneously.

My thumb passed over the title written in large letters on the notebook, probably in marker given the thickness of it. The grain of the notebook, due to dirt and time, sent shivers down my spine.

I repeatedly uttered the title “C's letters...”, as if I were spellbound.

Finally, I made the decision to slowly open the notebook, the unknown frightening me. Opening the first page made me tremble, it was empty with only stains and a yellowish tinge, probably caused by time. I turned the page to the next one. My heart rate increased. In the middle of the page, in the same marker as on the outside, was written "Sahlo Folina".

As I continued to examine the notebook, I discovered numerous texts and diagrams written in the same handwriting as before. The stories spoke of Dema, bishops and plans to escape and defeat them, of hope and rebellion. How can someone have so much knowledge about the prison we inhabit ? The knowledge about the outside world we had learned from the book we stole seemed ridiculous in comparison to it. My attention was piqued by the poems and Trench drawing. Trench. I had heard that this name was used to refer to the outside world, but I wasn't sure if it was official. I attempted to rotate the diagram to pinpoint my location, unsure of where I was given my long run.

A suspicious noise startled me and I dropped the notebook. I let out a silent scream when I saw it fall into a puddle. I tried to catch it, but it was too late. I placed my hands over my mouth to suppress all breathing, unaware of the source of the initial noise. After a few moments, the noise reappeared and I took my hands off my mouth, understanding that it was solely the sound of the wind slapping against the rock. My face was filled with horror as I turned my gaze back to the notebook, which was still in the water.

“Oh no no no!”, I repeated several times, panicking. I hurriedly retrieved the notebook, removing it from the water. It was already well soaked, and the drops falling from the pages made me sigh.

“What a bummer... I didn't even have time to read the whole thing! Damn it!”, I said, shaking the notebook, hoping it will help.

I took my grey cardigan out and wrapped the book in it, trying to dry it so that I could keep the precious information that were written inside.

After that, I let myself fall back against the stone wall, looking at the outside of the cave : it was getting dark and I didn't know how soon I'd be found, or if I'd be found at all... My thoughts, troubled and too numerous as usual, tired me even more and made me close my eyes, exhausted... Perhaps I'll be more reactive tomorrow in any case...

And that's how I ended up crying myself to sleep, my back still against the cool rock.

The next morning, I woke up with a start.

Not knowing where I was, and having dreamt of being found and dragged back to Dema, my eyes opened on their own. My breathing was ragged and I felt chills all over my body. I ran my hands over my face to regain my composure, seeing quite clearly that I hadn't moved from my spot and was still all alone.

“Fucking shit…”, I mumble under my breath. It was already broad daylight outside, so I got up quickly and set off again.

After packing up, I found myself back on the road to the unknown. The unknown scared me, but not as much as returning to Dema. The wind of freedom hit my face and I smiled at the sensation.

I walked and walked for hours. I ate what few resources I had left, these being a cereal bar and a bottle of water, which I had to split in half to eat last night as well.

I could see something in the distance. I squinted my eyes to get a better look.

“What the hell is that... ?”, I asked myself.

I looked around before approaching the thing, to make sure no one was following me and that I was in fact alone. So I approached the ruin, keeping my guard up. It looked like one of the vehicles Lyla had shown me in a book... I put my hand on the hood, then peered in through the broken window. It was completely empty and dilapidated.

I sighed. A few yards beyond the stone wall, I found myself facing ruins. But these weren't just abandoned vehicles or objects. This looked much bigger, and there was bound to have been human activity around here.

Large containers, trucks and the remains of houses and buildings lay before me. Was it a good idea for me to venture into this, or should I continue on my way and avoid it all ?

Obviously, my curiosity prevented me from getting past this intriguing landscape, and so I ended up moving towards it. I advanced while staying on my guard, my knees slightly bent. My mouth was partly open, revealing my surprise at the unusual structures in front of me.

I wandered between the buildings and decided to enter one of them.I found myself in a large building filled with containers. As I turned around, I ran into a metal box while continuing onward. The noise brought me back to reality, and I stopped all my movements. The piercing noise reverberated among the four walls. Suddenly, I realized how dangerous my reduced guard was. What if I was overheard by someone? I don't even know how to defend myself, how would I manage ? My mind was suddenly filled with too many questions. I shook my head and continued slowly, my steps shorter and lighter, on the defensive.

Without even thinking twice, I practically jumped on the food and started to eat like a starved animal. The possibilities of it being someone’s food didn’t even travelled my mind. I thought I was alone, until…

-Someone else POV- (hehe)

I was in an abandoned warehouse, searching for anything of use. I had been there since the evening the previous night, accompagned by my best mate. I suddenly heard a noise coming from behind the containers, so I decided to cautiously approch them, and hid behind on of the many crates.

Peeking through the cracks between the wooden crates, that’s when I saw someone eating our food without any restrictions. I have always been cautious around others because of my past, and I didn’t know where she was coming from. For all I knew, she could be with the Bishops, so I quietly grabbed a broom from a corner and approached again, silently.

-Back to the original POV-

I heard noises behind me and that made me stop all my movements, trying to listen to the source of the noise. I could hear someone enter the warehouse, apparently not aware of my presence.

-Someone else POV-

I rolled my eyes when I heard the loud footsteps of my partner. The noise probably revealed his approch, so I just hoped the woman wouldn’t start to run or defend herself.

“C, where are you, mate ?”, he asked.

-Back to the original POV-

As I hear a voice echo in the building, I let go of everything I had in hands, jumping on a container to hide myself, or at least trying to.

The sudden noise of a can falling on the ground made the intruder jump a bit, but it also made him notice my presence. The older man looked around and I think he saw me hiding.

“Hey ! Who’s here ?”, he asks in a more serious tone.

I was hiding behind another container, trying to calm my loud breathing. I suddenly panic inside as I fumbled in my bag in seach of something to defend myself, but the small Swiss army knife I had fell on the ground. I swore and facepalm myself « Fuck, you idiot- ».

I decided to climb on another container, trying to go towards the entrance of the warehouse to escape.

-Someone else’s POV-

I can see her move, so I silently following her. I didn’t want to lose sight of her, and I certainly wasn’t going to let her go. My mate noticed her too and we started to go around the warehouse to corner her.

She was walking as quietly as possible, as if we couldn’t see her, but stopped when she didn’t see anyone. Oh, you really think you’re smarter than us… ?

T, coming out of nowhere, finally says « found you ! » just behind her. His voice was loud, not even trying to hide his presence anymore. He was behind a few meters of her, approching with big stides. She looked behind her at the sound of his voice, scared. She then started to run, trying to sow him.

I laughed quietly at her naivety. I sure was close to her position too, but I decided to silently follow them from the shadows.

“Come back here !”, He started to run too, gaining on her fast. He was far faster tha her, so he was gonna catch her in seconds.

That’s when she decided to jump from where she was and found herself on the ground, looking up to see him still on the pill of containers. She started to run again, not knowing that there was another person following her, aka me.

I saw her and knew it was about time to stop her. As she was running, I came out of the shadows and appeared in front of her, the broom in front of my chest to block her from getting away.

As she was running, she turned her head towards me. I smiled behind my mask, seeing the fear in her eyes as she didn’t had the time to slow down fast enough and collided with me, falling on the ground just afterwards. She was already half knocked out.

I took a few steps back right after, and bent down, looking at her with my head tilted. I carefully checked if there was any big damage, not that I really cared anyway : Her eyes were half-closed as she winced in hurt after her brutal fall.

I looked down at her, standing up again, silently wondering if she was faking it.I was suspicious, since we didn’t know anything about her.

“Get up.”, I said coldly, my gaze not leaving her for a second as I wait for T to join us.

-Back to the original POV-

“W-what..?”, I became suddenly aware of the stranger talking to me, trying to take a few steps back but still on the ground. My voice was shaky, trying not to sound so scared but I failed.

He observed me move away, and he put the broom away, before stepping closer to me.

“I said get up.”, he said again more loudly. He seemed wary and careful and it scared me even more.

“I- I-”, I was cut down by the other stranger.

“Come on, don’t be so mean, you can see she’s shaking like a leaf.”, he says to the other one before looking at me : “Get up, so we can ask you questions”.

The other looked at the more kind one, before rolling his eyes. He then crossed his arms on his chest, his expression still cold : “Maybe she’s just pretending to be scared, you never know…”.

Of course he didn’t trust me one bit. He didn’t know where I came from, who I was, or even why I was there. I got up quickly, looking around me trying to find a way to escape.

I noticed how he was looking at me, knowing I was calculating my chances to run away. He took a step forward, cutting me in my attempts : “Don’t even try.”, he said with a harsh voice.

“O-okay.. I won’t”, I say, raising my hands up.

“So… we’ll ask you some questions just to make sure you're no threat for us. Don’t try to lie, we’ll notice it immediatly. Right?”, the nicer one said.

The other one then looked at me, before shifting his gaze to the his friend, silently signaling him to ask the questions instead. He knew he was the colder one between the two of them, and he was way more intimidating. I just swallow nervously, standing between the two, a few feets away from them.

He remained silent for a few seconds, studying my expressions and body language from afar. I started to wonder, do I look a Bishop’s spy or something ? Or are the escapees really that persecuted by the bishops to be this cautious with strangers ?

I was brought back in the present time when he spoke again : “How did you get here?”, he asked suddenly, taking a step forward. His cold eyes were fixed on me, not moving from my face for a second and it made me nervous.

“I-… I just walked for hours until I found this place, and I saw food so I just-”. I didn’t finish my sentence as I see him tilted his head a bit, and raising an eyebrow. He didn’t seem to believe me.

“Hours… So that means you’re not from around here then.”, he said, his voice still having a bit of sharpness.

I just shake my head at his words : “I come from Dema…”.

I saw his jaw clenched upon hearing my reply, and he shared a look with the other man. The other raised an eyebrow at him, but remained silent otherwise. The one asking the questions then took a few bold steps closer, his expression still stern.

“How did you get out of Dema?”, he asked, looking right into my eyes. It was unsettling to only see his eyes, the rest of his face being hidden by a red and black ski type of mask.

“I-… I was chosen for a mission, they took me out of the city to search for an item and I managed to escape...”.

The masked man was getting more and more suspicious. I could clearly hear his mind ‘Chosen for a mission? Escaped? She could be a spy, it was possible, blablabla’.

“And what was this mission that you apparently escaped from?”, he stayed close to me, not letting me out of his sight. The other one remained quiet, silently listening to the exchange between the two of us.

“C-Can I move to show you ?”, I asked, my voice still shaking.

He seemed to weight the pros and cons at an incredibly fast pace. He then nods : “But no sudden moves.”, he said firmly, keeping a close eye on me. I could tell he would be ready to grab me and thow me on the ground if I move a little too fast for him.

So I just nod, grabbing the straps of the two bags I had on my shoulders and put them down. I grabbed the one that was the banditos’ bag, which I was supposed to take back to Dema as a mission. Once the bag dropped on the ground, his eyes fell on it. The symbol of the banditos was stitched on it, which made him narrow his eyes even more. He crossed his arms on his chest, his suspicion growing bigger : “And this was the ‘mission’ you escaped from?”.

I just nod : “Yes… They asked me to search for this bag, and bring it back to Dema. Apparently it contains some kind of notebook that has important information about the banditos’s plans…”. The other one frowns at my words, knowing that this bag was from his group of rebels and that the notebook was his friends’.

“And do you know who these ‘banditos’ are?”, inquired the masked-one, staring at me with calculating eyes.

“I just-”, I started to panic : “I just know that they are rebels that escaped and plan to create a community in the outside world- that’s all I know !”.

His jaw clenched once again. That was index intention… To get into to Dema and help others escape.

“And why exactly were YOU sent on that mission?”, he questioned again, his gaze never leaving mine. He saw how I started to panic, which seemed to make him even more suspicious.

I don't know who they were, but what I did know was that they weren't going to trust me right away…

more in the next part! :)

[whencyclopedia]

John Wycliffe

John Wycliffe (l. 1330-1384, also John Wyclif) was an English theologian, priest, and scholar, recognized as a forerunner to the Protestant Reformation in Europe. Wycliffe condemned the practices of the medieval Church, citing many of the same abuses that would later be addressed by other reformers. He is best known for translating the Bible into Middle English.

Wycliffe grew up in a period when the Holy Roman Catholic Church was the supreme power in Europe. The Church had already split into the Western Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church in the Great Schism of 1054, but this did nothing to diminish the power of the Church in Europe, which increasingly involved itself more in secular political matters than religious issues. Anyone objecting to the Church's policies was silenced, and there was no other religious authority one could turn to for appeal.

Wycliffe was an Oxford-educated theologian who objected to the Church's abuses, challenged the hierarchy, and claimed the Christian scriptures were the supreme authority, not the pope. He developed the theology of two domains, an earthly Church and idealized Church, clearly based on Platonic principles he had learned from his close reading of the works of Saint Augustine of Hippo, and claimed the earthly Church had strayed far from what it should have been.

He was protected from persecution by powerful political allies in England and by the distractions caused by the Western Schism (1378-1417) during which there were two popes, one at Rome and another at Avignon, France, with different factions of clergy supporting one or the other. His ideas were spread by his followers, known as Lollards, who also assisted him in translating the Bible from Latin into Middle English. Although he came into conflict with Church authorities in England between 1377-1382 and was deprived of his teaching position at Oxford, he was not excommunicated nor officially branded a heretic.

After his death, however, he was decreed both in 1415. His remains were dug up in 1428, burned, and thrown into the River Swift. He is recognized as a proto-reformer as many of his claims and objections were voiced first by Jan Hus (l. c. 1369-1415) and then by later reformers such as Martin Luther (l. 1483-1546), who took them further, sparking the Protestant Reformation (1517-1648) that broke the power of the Church.

Medieval Church in England

To understand the kind of courage it took to challenge the Church in the Middle Ages (c. 476-1500), one must recognize the authority it claimed and the kind of power it commanded. The Church was the only means by which one could attain eternal salvation, and as heaven, purgatory, and hell were recognized as certainties awaiting one after death, the precepts of the Church had to be followed without question if one wished to avoid the suffering of the latter and be rewarded in the former.

The Church claimed this authority directly through scripture citing Matthew 16:18-19, where Jesus appoints the apostle Peter as "the rock upon which my church will be built", which church authorities claimed made Peter the first pope and each pope to follow his successors. As the Church gained more power, however, it became more involved in extending its reach and expanding upon that power than concerning itself with spiritual salvation and the Christian walk. By the time of Wycliffe, the Church held approximately one-third of the land in England, tax-free, and through the practice of simony, officials were able to place friends and relatives, often unqualified, in comfortable and lucrative ecclesiastical positions.

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