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youarejesting · 3 years

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Wash Out.21 (Sope Special)

[Master List]

Banners: @purpleskies1999 Pairings: Dolphintrainer!Taehyung x SharkDiver!Jin, Mer!Jimin x Reader, Scientist!Namjoon x MerKing!Jungkook, Mer!Yoongi x Mer!Hoseok. Rating: 16+ Genre: Mystery, Romance, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, little bit of Action, Slice of life, Enemies2Lovers, Friends2lovers, Social media au, Fake Texts, Fake Subs.

Summary: Taehyung and his best friend Y/N are Dolphin trainers at Wash Out; Marine Wildlife and Theme Park. When the nerdy marine biologist and resident veterinarian Doctor Kim Namjoon goes missing; the two friends form a ragtag team with Taehyung’s rival Seokjin and a…. Fish?

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Yoongi stood still, his legs shaking. It was not normal for him to be standing for this length of time. They were mermaids used to having tails their strength in the water. Swimming was like breathing. Of course their legs only appeared on their sacred land under the ocean.

They couldn’t walk on human land, could never compare to their leg strength. Most Mermaids spent their days in the water only entering the sacred land for celebrations. Yoongi being one of many guards would protect the royal family, albeit there was no longer a royal family. Jungkook was all that was left, a prince forced to be a king before he was ready.

Guards were the most common of the merfolk to adorn legs. Jungkook was confined to the sacred land, his time in the water limited. Anything to keep him safe from the threat of other merclans. Each guard embellished in the silk of the clams. Byssus was woven finely like silk, the light material was surprisingly warm enough to protect the guards and King whilst in their more vulnerable form.

Yoongi looked across the crystal throne room, the love of his life standing just as tall, his stature stronger than Yoongi’s. A feat as Jungkook tore the room apart, bioluminescent vines and lanterns ripped from the walls. Food and wine splattered on the floor of their ancestors.

Hoseok’s mouth turned down, the sight unnatural for his usually cheerful disposition. The hardest part of their job was raising Jungkook, it seemed no matter how hard they tried to teach him right and wrong, politics and history they still came up short. He didn’t have a family, not anymore, he didn’t know how to share and never had to work for relationships.

Everyone adored him, feared him, doted on his every whim. He was given the finest foods and all the newest technology Merfolk could offer. Anything to keep him content in his prison. It surprised Yoongi that Jungkook hadn’t questioned his confines, that he was complacent with their level of control over his freedom.

Jungkook no longer understanding, why his new found friend was so reluctant to stay. He extended all his riches and gifts to the human, something other merfolk would cherish.

“Why does he still want to leave, with me he could be treated as a king,” Jungkook seethed, throwing a leg over the arm of his throne massaging his temples. “Leave me.”

Hoseok marched dutifully to Yoongi, supporting the older merman as they made their exit. Walking him to the entrance of the underwater cove, the air though damp enough to keep their lungs from feeling dry, they much preferred sinking into the cool water. Doing so allowed the power of the sacred land to slip away leaving only their natural form.

The two transformed their black and blue tails wrapping around each other, a romantic gesture Yoongi enjoyed more than he wished to admit. They relaxed in eachothers arms peacefully, sinking further until they landed on the floor of the large network of caves. This is where most of the merfolk lived as they were still protected from the open ocean.

Under the cove was wide and besides a few stalagmite and stalactite the surface was predominantly flat. However the local life was anything but, everyone bustling around the settlement enjoying tending to the seaweed, crafting and protecting the sealife.

“Jungkook, is struggling. He doesn’t understand how to handle rejection. He doesn’t understand that people value the same things,” Hoseok mumbled, massaging Yoongi’s lower back to help relieve tension from standing for such a long time.

“That human cannot survive long under the ocean, he grows weaker by the day, barely eating.” Yoongi huffed, “If Jungkook doesn’t let him go, the poor thing will die, Jungkook isn’t ready to experience something like that so close to him.”

“I think he has gotten too attached, losing this human might break him,” Hoseok bit his lip, “Dare I say he is in love with him, he could be his promised.”

Yoongi scoffed, the idea that Jungkook happened to find his promised one and he was a human, the first human he had ever met. Yoongi and Hoseok were unaware they were each other's promised until Yoongi had a week off from guard duty and started to get really sick. The two had met in the infirmary wasting away and only in one another's company did their condition improve. “Hoseok, that’s a bit much.”

A figure swam down the path quickly, heading straight to the sacred cove entrance, carrying something large. Was someone trying to attack their home? The two fell apart taking up offensive stances, each lurching forward when they spotted Jimin holding an unconscious human.

“Not another one,” Yoongi chastised, eyes sweeping over Jimin trying to be inconspicuous. Though he cared he showed it silently, not fond of open praise. The kind to listen and assist others out of sight.

“I have to make sure he is alright,” Jimin gave no further explanation, swimming up into the cove entrance dragging the human onto the sacred land. Jimin’s gold tail disappearing, leaving behind two bare legs.

Wrapping himself in a cloth, the two followed. Yoongi strained to lift himself into an upright position. Hoseok brought out their usual transport, especially for Jungkook’s deliveries. In this case they threw the unconscious human across the shell of the crustacean and they headed to their king.

“Are all humans this big?” Yoongi asked, eyeing the figure draped beside Jimin. The two crab-pooling wasn’t the issue, the way Jimin looked genuinely concerned for the human was. It was no good for humans and Merfolk to fall in love, the dynamic wouldn’t end well.

“No, they aren’t all this big, some of them are small, delicate and beautiful. They are magnificent, fascinating beings. Some are scary and mean and others are innocent and protective, just trying to do the right thing.” Jimin whispered, checking the humans breathing once more.

“Is he your promised?” Hoseok asked softly, not knowing how to approach the topic sensitively. Jimin smiled, shaking his head. The thought appeared to have amused him.

“He is someone else’s promised,” Jimin said, “But I think I met her, she was beautiful and strong, never letting anyone stop her, never letting bad things keep her down. She would swim head first into enemy waters to save someone she barely knows.

The human groaned, “Where am I?” Jimin let out a sigh of relief, this human was waking up and didn’t seem to be physically hurt, at least there were no wounds they could see upon his flesh. “Am I dead?”

“No, you are not dead, you are in our settlement.” Jimin grinned at the disorientation present in Seokjin’s words. He was struggling to enunciate his words, each more like a whine drawn out.

Upon entering the crystal throne room the group tried their best to support the sluggish human inside. Gaining the attention of Jungkook, ceasing his brooding long enough to assist the three struggling mermen. As if hearing the commotion or perhaps Seokjin’s terrible jokes Namjoon emerged from where he had been staying.

“Jin! Are you okay?” Namjoon grabbed his friend, checking him over for injury, “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you and avoiding the police, I ran my car off the cliff and also may have destroyed the letter box outside your beach house.” He laughed, “Never really liked it anyway.”

“You did what?” Namjoon said, concerned, “Are you crazy?”

“Listen, we were being chased. It was all for you, and Jimin of course, returning Jimin and rescuing you.” Seokjin smiled at his friend. Yoongi thought these humans were weird, they were reckless and too odd for his liking. “I even teamed up with Taehyung and Y/n in order to save you. Do you know how hard that was?”

“Didn’t seem hard at all, you and Taehyung seemed to get along really well.” Jimin pushed the human with a smile, it was weird to see Jimin acting so comfortable with the humans. “We will return you so that the issue can be resolved, I am starting to grow worried about how we left.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asked confused

“Humans tackled Y/n and Taehyung dragged me into the water. Right before you and your car contraption fell into the water I killed the man who scared you all.” Jimin said proudly, this didn’t seem to go over well with the human’s. Yoongi hoped Jimin didn’t do something stupid turf war wasn’t on his to do list.

Yoongi didn’t understand the words coming from Seokjin’s face, if he had to liken it to anything, it sounded like vulgar slang, curse words. The human looked panicked.

“We have to go back, they are probably being sent to prison,” Seokjin said, trying to leave unsure which direction to go, “They are in big trouble.”

“Can’t you just talk to your king and explain and they will be removed from prison?” Jimin said

“Prison doesn’t work the same as it does here,” Namjoon explained, “Very Very bad people go to prison, Murderer’s, thieves and other despicable humans put in one place.”

“Yeah and if they go to prison, they may be beaten or worse,” Seokjin huffed. Jimin looked up at Jungkook who nodded, bringing out a small mirror and handing it to Jimin.

Looking over Jimin’s shoulder, Yoongi noticed a human different to the two infront of him, she was feminine delicate and leaking. “What is happening to her?”

“She is crying,” Jimin explained, “Humans do that when they are hurt or in despair, from what I have been told they do the same when they are happy too.”

“Confusing and a little stupid.” Hoseok laughed, “How do you know the difference?”

The charges have been dropped, Namjoon breathed listening to the interrogator, explaining that they couldn’t record the phenomenon that occurred on the beach. “They are being let go,” He smiled, a sight Yoongi hadn’t seen since he first laid eyes on their large domestic crustaceans.

“There is Taehyung,” Seokjin called out looking down, the two humans looked void of any emotion, they collected their things and climbed into the police car getting an escort to their homes. “They are safe and that’s all that matters.”

Seokjin smiled, his eyes leaking much to Yoongi’s disgust. Namjoon smiled, he seemed a little amused by the older human. “I remember distinctly you saying you hated Taehyung with a passion and wanted him to choke on a sardine.” They two laughed for a moment, “When did things change?”

“I guess when you are working as a team to save someone you develop an understanding.” Seokjin shrugged his large shoulders, “It also didn’t help that he was living in my house for almost a week.”

“You like him,” Namjoon poked him, “Admit it you have feelings for him.”

“We can head back when you are ready, we have returned Jimin home safely.” Seokjin smiled, looking around at the group and smiling, “I am Seokjin by the way, you can call me Jin.”

The man was goofy, reminding Yoongi of Jungkook himself, the two so alike in their childlike nature, letting themself play without hesitation. It was almost admirable that people could act so carefree, unaffected by how they could be perceived.

“I don’t know if I am allowed to leave?” Namjoon said, his smile falling, eyes fixed on the ground before him.

Yoongi looked at his king, the spoiled young man reflecting on his actions, it had been many days since they saw the young man smile. Almost expecting him to refuse, Yoongi schools his expression when he doesn’t.

“You should go, You don’t belong down here?” Jungkook took the mirror before walking away from the group to sit on the throne. He lowered his head looking at his reflection trying to distract himself from the pain. Letting your promised go was the hardest thing a merperson could do. Under normal circumstances, promises are only parted by death.

Namjoon walked over, placing a hand on the king's head and smiling at him, “If ever you want to visit, I would be happy to show you some great places, places you would love.” Jungkook’s broken heart warmed at the human’s dimples appearing softly in the flesh of his cheeks.

That was the last thing they needed, their king running off for a romance on the coast line. Seokjin swung his arm around Jimin playfully, the merman giggling whilst his legs almost buckled. “Yeah Jimin knows the private beach by Namjoon’s house, he can show you the way if you ever want to visit.”

Tags: @backinblack1967 @miriamxsworld @moccahobi @simplymemyself @a-gayish-unicorn @ella-mella @vjinfan23

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isshebreathing · 3 years

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I had an unexpected weekend off and it’s too hot to be outside today, so five stories in one weekend is too much for me to catch up with. Thanks everyone for your positive response so far, I’ll definitely keep working on them.

If you are triggered by dark stuff and death fantasy you can skip part 2 and come straight to part 3 without missing anything.

Chronic Asthma Part 3

We were over staffed at the hospital so I volunteered to leave. I had been working so much that my girlfriend Emily and I were like ships passing in the night. She would have just gotten home from her bar tending shift and we could eat dinner in bed then fall asleep watching a reality show like a normal couple would. Emily has a bachelor’s degree in fine art, but she still bartends because it pays more money. I’ve always felt guilty about that, once I was done with med school I would be able to make more money and she wouldn’t have to work. She could tell the men who made passes at her to fuck off without fear of losing precious tips or worse yet, her job.

“Coming home early” I texted “dinner and tv?”

I didn’t get a response

“???????” I sent.

She might have been in bed, when I called her this evening she sounded tired and short of breath, she said she had been running to catch something.

The thought crossed my mind that Emily was not okay. She had had chronic asthma since she was a child as a result of the poor air quality in the Appalachian town she was raised in. Sometimes late at night I would feel her start awake and I knew she was having a nightmare of one of the two times she had stopped breathing entirely in her life.

I pushed the thought out of my head, Emily had always accused me of overthinking things and turning them into a medical crisis, it was a side effect of seven years of med school I guessed.

I sent another text “Fast food tacos?”

I got no response, “she’s probably in the shower,” I said to myself.

My anxiety didn’t fade though, I thought we had food at home we could make. I ordered a car on my phone to shorten the 45 minutes the train would have taken. I tried to get the thought of my girlfriend struggling to breath on the floor out of my head and tried to replace it with the pleasant warmth and surprise I’d see on her face when I came home early for an unexpected date night.

I bounded up the stairs and opened our door, I was surprised that our cat Walter didn’t come to greet me, he must have been confused by my shortened day.

The kitchen and living room and hallway lights were on, and I could see that our bedroom light was on too, but the shower wasn’t running. “Babe, you left the lights on again,” I said frustratedly expecting her to say “don’t mock my fear of the dark” jokingly in reply but I didn’t hear anything.

“Babe?” I said again with no response.

“Emily?” I said louder, now making my way down the hallway.

I turned into our room and saw my worst fears realized, Emily was laying in the fetal position on the floor, face turned gray, inhaler and nebulizer scattered around her. She had an asthma attack that turned into a breathing crisis, she was in respiratory arrest in front of me.

I rushed over to her and put my face close to hers, “Emily,” I said again trying to shake her awake. She looked into my eyes for a brief moment before they rolled back in her head and fluttered closed. I put two fingers under her chin and felt her heart sputter to a stop, she was in full arrest now.

I saw her cell phone on the floor next to the handset I insisted on keeping because 911 services could better trace your address on a landline. I picked up the handset and realized it was already connected. “Ma’am? Ma’am can you hear me? Help is on the way” a dispatcher says calmly on the other end of the phone.

“Yes, I just walked in and my girlfriend is in full arrest, I’m a doctor, I need an ambulance.”

The dispatcher responds but I don’t care what they say. I lay Emily flat on her back and rip off her fitted bar t-shirt. I grab the knife from my pocket and slice off her bra, exposing her graying chest as her large breast flopped to each side. I started compressions and yelled “Emily you have to come back okay.”

Her lifeless body lay unresponsive, rocking inward as I pounded on her chest, “and ten and eleven and twelve” I push away any thoughts of arousal that I feel from her naked body needing me to pump it’s heart for her. “And twenty-seven, and twenty-eight, and twenty-nine, and thirty” I move up towards her head and tilt it back, I try to give her a puff of air, her cheeks puff out but her chest lays still.

I realize her airway is completely blocked and run to get the medical bag I keep in my closet, I pour iodine on her throat and place my knee on her forehead to stabilize her.

I have seen this procedure done in the real world twice, once on a training video and once in my ER rotation, I have never actually done the procedure. My mind goes into a trance, I am no longer a frantic girlfriend I am a medical professional performing a medical routine. I grab a scalpel and make a small slice in the skin of her throat covering her trachea, I make a few more careful slices though skin and fat and muscle taking care not to slice too deep. I take some gauze and soak up the blood as I find the trachea. I put a small slice in the organ and mucus and blood immediately start coming up, I place my two fingers into the hole so I don’t lose it and grab one of the clear plastic tubes I had set out for the procedure, I slip the tube into her trachea as a sickening gurgle lets out all of the fluid that had been stuck in her airway. I snapped on a breathing tube and an ambu bag. I began to breathe for her. Her chest rising each time I squeezed breath into her.

The adrenaline of the initial crisis was fading fast. I was trying to do compressions with one hand and respirations with the other. Emily had told me horror stories about air hunger and how terrifying it was, I needed to help her heart beat and also keep air going to her lungs.

I started to panic because I didn’t know what to do next, do I just keep her partially alive until help comes? How long could she stay this way?

I choked down my panic as the EMT’s rushed in, and took over, I was surprised how aroused I was seeing a man forcefully pump my girlfriends chest while someone else squeezes a bulb to breathe for her.

I snap back into the present as the third medic is asking me questions. “She’s 28 years old, she has a history of asthma, no known history of a heart condition…..”

My mind trails off as the severity of what is happening hits me, I lose my composure and start to sob and I begged, “Emily please stay here with me, please stay alive,”

I watch the scene unfold as the paramedics put two white pads on Emily’s chest, one between her breasts and one On her side. I lose all medical knowledge as I watch a surge of electricity shoot through her body contorting it in an unnatural horror. The shock does nothing, the v-fib that the drugs gave her has turned into a flatline.

I watch in horror as the slip a board under her to raise her chest more, making her large and graying breasts fall further to the side, they snap a machine over her and turn it on, the machine makes an unnatural squeaking noise as it beats on her chest 100 times a minute.

I forget that I am a doctor, I forget my medical training, this isn’t a case in front of me this is the woman I love.

“Are you hurting her?” I ask as the machine pounds into her over and over and over again.

“We need to beat her heart for her,” the paramedic replies.

For a moment I think it’s too much, her hands are strapped to the side of the machine that is violently pounding her chest, making her shoulders shift inwards, her belly bulge, and feet rock inward with each compression pounding into her battered body. A tube sticks unnaturally out of her mouth attached to a blue bulb that someone has to squeeze to make her chest rise with breath. “It’s too much to expect her body to take this to stay.” I think, but thought of living without her snaps me back to reality. I am almost a doctor, a medical professional, I will do anything it takes to keep my girlfriend alive even if it’s with machines.

They load her into the back of the ambulance and despite my protests make me sit in the front with the driver.

I text my colleague in the ER, “headed in with Emily, bad asthma attack to full arrest, get prepped to start life support. I can’t lose her”

“Oh god Jen, we will do whatever it takes” she replies.

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sirowsky · 3 years

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The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group.

(Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, buried trauma, mentions of tortured and murdered children, furious Marcus.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: We learn a bit more history on the Heroics as a whole, and something Reader’s been supressing, that leads to some new developments concerning her powers.

(Again I apologise for the crossover GIF, but really Narcos just has the best ones. Also, let me know if it’s yours and I’ll credit you!)

Chapter 39

Wisconsin was getting cold this time of year, and you were frustrated. Verity had really outdone himself this time. He’d positioned himself right smack in the middle of suburbia, on Barbara Lane, in De Pere, Green bay, forcing you to take twice as many safety precautions as usual, before you could see him.

You’d asked Marcus after the first time you’d met the truth-seeker, if it wouldn’t be less dangerous and more inconspicuous for him to come to you, instead of you having to travel all over the country to find him. But Marcus had explained that he had adapted a lifestyle that meant that he was never in one place for more than two days, in order to stay ahead of any team that HQ might send out to investigate his energy-signature.

He rarely used his ability to the extent that the new and more powerful sensors could detect it, but on the few occasions when he had, he’d found himself having company some time later. Their response time varied depending on where in the country he was, and whenever he was closer to the west coast, his temporary lodgings were always significantly shorter.

Allen had been quiet for most of the journey, deep in his thoughts, but when you started getting close to your destination, the old man started talking.

“I built most of HQ, you know. The Heroic organisation.”

“Yeah, you were one of the founders, right? One of the first non-powered people to suggest that supers might need help to become actual heroes. You got them to talk to one another, start building relationships, creating the friendships that would ultimately turn them into a team.”

“It was almost impossible to get those knuckleheads to coincide. There were only four of them back then, and they all wanted the glory and heroism to themselves, fighting for the spotlight every chance they got. We really thought our efforts weren’t gonna do anything.”

“What changed it around?”

“Anita Moreno.”

“Hah… of course she did.”

“When she came along, young and determined and confident, she elbowed out their failing attempts at leadership by actually taking charge, and making them listen to reason. By way of a beat-down if necessary.”

“That, I can believe. And I’d have loved to see it.”

“She was fearless of their powers and their masculinity, their macho-bullshit. And before long, she had them training to improve their skillsets, studying the politics of the world, saying that if they were gonna insist on meddling in other cultures, then it was also their responsibility to understand what the hell they were meddling with.”

“And that’s where you took the opportunity, I’m guessing?”

“I reached out to Anita, offering financial support in creating a training-facility for the supers, a kind of recreational area, where they could play with their abilities, test themselves against each other, without risking harm to anyone. She really liked the idea, and asked me to find out if anyone else would be interested in helping them, and over time, that’s how the Heroics were born.”

“And now it’s been tainted.”

“I don’t know that it hasn’t been completely destroyed already.”

“Henry, the organisation can never be destroyed, not as long someone’s around to fight back. And you’d better believe we are.”

“What have you brought me today, Rainbow?”

A little while later, you finally stepped into the house, and Verity’s energy hit you. Since he knew you couldn’t use your power to greet him anymore, he called to you from the kitchen and you guided Allen there.

The poor man was already pale.

“Someone I really hope you’re about to tell me I can trust.”

“A founder… this is a first. Your heart is filled with love, for your family, mostly, but that also makes you susceptible to great fear. Right now, you fear what will be left of your legacy once this mess is made public. You fear that the Heroics will be shut down, and that your life’s work will go down in history as nothing but a failed experiment. You love your creation, it gives you great pride, but you fear it too. The power it’s accumulated, and how the politics have gotten more and more in control of it. But you are innocent of any crime or conspiracy. You are, at heart, a good man.”

Allen looked like he might vomit, so you helped him to sit down and brought him a glass of water.

“Who are you?”

Verity never answered that question, no matter who was asking, so you sat down next to Henry to explain.

“He’s a very special super, that you can never mention to anyone. If you do, he’ll disappear, and we’ll have no way of knowing who’s trustworthy or not.”

“He can tell the truth? I never even spoke…”

“Verity sees the truth, like a web around people. I don’t know exactly how it works, but he can see everything, past and present. Every lie and every truth of your entire existence.”

“Incredible. And really unnerving.”

“Yes, but worth it. Thanks to him we have over 120 trusted operatives working for us all over the world, and that’s not including the Heroics.”

“That’s… impressive. But I fear this enemy is going to need much greater numbers than that, to be defeated.”

“Maybe. But 89 of those operatives are supers, and that evens the odds significantly.”

“What? But… we scan for people with abilities all over the world, we would know if that many existed.”

“Not if they’d been hiding their powers. We figured that anyone who was on the Heroics radar, would most likely be on SIC’s as well, so we focused entirely on reaching out to those that we knew were hidden. And in that process, we uncovered a whole community of powered people that want nothing to do with the fame or recognition, and once they understood the stakes, they all agreed to help us. And they, in turn, are reaching out to their friends, normal and super, to join the fight. Our numbers grow every day, Henry. We can beat these assholes; we just need a little more time.”

Verity’s energy focusing on you, broke your concentration, and you turned to look at him.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure. Something… something in your memories.”

“If it’s my memory then why can’t you see it clearly?”

“It’s been hidden. It’s a memory you can’t see yourself.”

Your skin crawled and your heartbeat picked up, in an involuntary response to any kind of mention of your time with the mad doctor. Verity noticed.

“A painful memory. Something you don’t want to remember.”

“I don’t want to remember any of it, V.”

“Tubes, wires, machines, syringes. Your body remembers. Your cells do.”

“Pain… so much pain, your nerves remember all of it. You fought him. You bit him twice, escaped your bindings once, almost got out. He punished you for that by pouring battery-acid on your feet. He was so confident that his experiment would work that he didn’t care how much damage he caused you in the process.”

Lost in his search into your mind, Verity slowly started moving towards you, centring all his power on you, desperate to uncover everything that was hidden. You weren’t sure if he was even aware of how overbearing he was in that moment. How threatening.

He had never come across a truth he couldn’t see before, and it made him obsessive and ruthless in his pursuit of it. A part of you knew that, but your reptile brain was overcome with a sense of danger, and you backed away from him, but he followed you.

“V… please, stop.”

He didn’t even hear you.

“You’re hiding from me. I can feel the memory so clearly, wrapped in a bubble I can’t penetrate. I need to know what it is.”

He was pushing so much of his energy into your mind to try and break that bubble, that you started feeling unnaturally heavy. Your body suddenly felt like it was moving through liquid, meeting so much resistance that it exhausted you just to take a single step.

You collapsed to the floor, struggling to breathe, and still he didn’t let up. He towered over you, and somewhere in the background you heard Allen trying to reason with him, but then a splitting pain shot through your head, and you passed out.

“You stay the fuck away from me, V!”

You woke up lying on the sofa in the living room, your head still throbbing and the light burning your eyes. But from what little you could make out, Verity was sitting on a chair right next to you, and it made the bear inside you wake up with full force.

You launched yourself at him, placing a hard fist at his solar plexus, and when he involuntarily crunched forwards, his face had a very abrupt meeting with your elbow.

He fell backwards, toppling the chair over and breaking it as he hit the floor, bleeding from his nose and cheek-bone.

Allen rushed into the room from the kitchen, holding a pack of ice he’d apparently been getting for you. You wobbled over to him and swiped it from his hands to put against your right temple, while Verity slowly got to his knees.

“I saw it. The memory you were hiding, I was able to break your defence the moment before you lost consciousness.”

“I don’t care.”

“He did it in front of you. He strapped children into that chair, and made you watch as he drained them. He made you watch their strength gradually leave them as the pain got to be too much. You saw the faces of at least nine of them, wordlessly begging you for help.”

“I trapped those memories away for a reason, you asshole. Just because you need the truth like a fucking addict, doesn’t mean I do!”

The images came to you as he voiced them. You remembered those faces, fifteen of them, actually. You remembered their pain, and how much you wished that you could have borne it for them. How gladly you’d have sacrificed yourself for them, if you could have.

That was why your powers had manifested into what they did. That was why you couldn’t heal yourself, because in that time and place, you truly didn’t care if you died.

You slumped against the nearest wall and slowly allowed yourself to sink to the floor. Your head was still throbbing, and you were beyond angry.

“You do need to know this.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me! You don’t get to torture me, V, that’s what the fucking bad guys do!!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that is as close to a god damned lie as you’ve ever gotten! You don’t give a shit if your powers hurt me, as long as you get your fucking truth. If you’re sorry about anything, it’s that I’m not grateful for your efforts. Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong!”

He didn’t speak. He just sat there, looking as unbothered about everything as he always did.

“Allen, get me the hell out of here.”

“Hermosa? What’s wrong?”

You took a cab from the airport, and fell asleep about halfway home. The driver had a calm and rhythmic manner that soothed you, and he was listening to John Williams play the Concierto de Aranjuez, with the soft guitar notes making your frayed mind drift away to a warm and sunny Spain.

He woke you by gently announcing that you’d arrived at your destination, and you paid him and thanked him for his kindness, before getting out and walking towards the gate in the fence. Your legs felt like lead.

You could hear Marcus and Missy through the front door as you approached it, ingulfed in playing some boardgame, and you stopped and just listened to them for a while, leaning heavily against the door.

Your darling Missy, the same age as several of those children. But alive and happy and such a wonderful person already.

And Marcus. Your reason for living. The one that saved you, and kept saving you, despite the darkness that accompanied you.

You hadn’t kept your word about checking in with him, so when you texted him while you were waiting at the airport in Green Bay, he’d been furious at first, wanting to know why he hadn’t heard from you in almost five hours. But he’d quickly calmed as you’d simply reminded him that since he was hearing from you now, you were obviously okay, and you’d tell him everything when you saw him.

But now, standing behind that door, you didn’t want to tell him. You didn’t want to talk about it, and you didn’t want to burden him with knowing it. But you also knew that he’d see it on your face the moment you walked in. You were too tired and in too much pain still, to even try and keep up any appearances.

You took a breath, and walked inside. Marcus was on his feet the moment the door swung open, and he swept you into a tight hug as soon as he got to you, but the mildness of your response immediately had him worried.

“Could you just keep your voice down a bit, please. My head’s killing me.”

“Where you in a fight?”

He looked closer at you upon hearing that, and he realised that you were actually in terrible shape. He swept you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, while asking Missy to come and help him prepare a bath for you.

She went straight to the bathroom and turned on the taps, and you could hear her going into the cabinets to pull out fresh towels.

In the meantime, Marcus was helping you out of your clothes, and noticed a big black bruise on your elbow.

“No… just felt cornered.”

“By who?”

“...Verity.”

His whole posture changed, and you could feel a sudden rage emanating from him.

“Tell me what he did.”

“I’m too tired right now…”

“Querida, look at me. Tell me.”

“He… broke into the memories I’d hidden… the one’s he couldn’t see before.”

“The one’s Prince had altered?”

“No… the one’s I buried. The one’s that were too horrible… He forced them out, and now my head feels like it’s breaking apart.”

“Why would he hurt you like that?”

He picked you up again and moved you into the bathroom. Missy only stayed until the tub was full and she could close the taps, and then she hugged you gently and slipped out of the room.

Marcus took the last of your clothes off before lowering you into the warm water, and when you asked him to join you, he did, holding you close and softly stroking your skin under the water.

“He can’t stand lies, and apparently that applies to secrets as well. He just had to know; consequences be damned.”

“He’ll regret that tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother. He won’t admit to any wrong-doing. And we still need him.”

“I don’t give a fuck. The only reason I agreed to let you go was because I thought you’d be safe with him.”

“I don’t have anymore secrets for him to try and uncover now. So, technically I will be, from now on. Not that I ever wanna see him again.”

“You won’t have to. I’ll deal with him.”

“We’re still at war, honey. We’re gonna have to do a lot of things we’d rather not.”

“Fuck the war, I’ll turn my back on the whole damned thing and take you to live with the fucking penguins if that’s what it takes. I’m so tired of seeing you in pain!”

“Oh, please, keep your voice down…”

“Sorry.”

You sat in silence for a while, as the warm water started to open up your capillaries, easing your headache a bit.

“Are you gonna tell me?”

You knew what he was asking, and you really wanted to say no, but you also knew that you needed to tell him.

“Prince made me… he made me watch.”

The tears burned in your eyes, and you tried to chase the memories away, to lock them back into that little bubble where they couldn’t hurt you. But it was too late.

“Watch what?”

You didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt as though that would somehow solidify the images into reality, making them truly inescapable. He could feel your resistance, and tried to soothe you with his current, but it wasn’t enough this time.

“The… ch-children. He made me… watch them die.”

“Oh, my god…”

The next morning you felt better. The headache had eased with some real sleep and you were starting to feel human again. Marcus was right next to you, his arms securely wrapped around you while he slept, but he stirred the moment you did. It was still early enough that your monday alarms hadn’t gone off yet.

You felt him swallow repeatedly against the bile and grief that surged up in his throat as he realised what you were saying. He’d seen the lab. The extraction chair. And the freshest bodies that Prince hadn’t had time to get rid off before they found his lair. He’d seen how much pain they’d been in as they died, evident in their faces even after death.

He didn’t say anything else, and you didn’t need him to, you just needed him to hold you, and he did.

“Good morning, hermosa. Did you sleep okay?”

“Morning. Yeah, actually I did.”

“No bad dreams?”

“I think my headache might have made that impossible. It’s gone now, though.”

“Good. How do you feel about breakfast?”

“I’m looking forward to it. I still haven’t eaten in our kitchen yet.”

“Right. Eggs and toast?”

“Please.”

You went about your morning toilet and wash, before heading out to the kitchen together. Missy was already at the island, having cereal and flipping through a schoolbook, and since Marcus was already pulling out the frying pan to get started on the eggs, you sat down with her, before the school bus would get there.

“Morning, angel. Test today?”

“Yup. Maths. I got it, though.”

“Oh, I believe that, you’re good at maths. Break a leg anyway.”

“Thanks, alma. I’m aiming for top scores.”

“I like your aim.”

“Don’t worry, preciosa, her protection is in place.”

Marcus had just sat down a plate in front of you when the bus honked, and Missy ran out the door while shouting she loved both of you.

You kept staring at the closed door after she’d disappeared through it, and Marcus knew what you were thinking.

“I know, but after yesterday… I just feel a bit more protective than usual.”

“That’s entirely understandable, but please try not to stress over it. You have another one to protect as well.”

“Right… Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, just breathe and eat calmly.”

“So, Allen got the all clear, I assume. Does that mean he’s in?”

You dug into the food and it was delicious. So much better than the airport food you’d eaten all day yesterday, even though it was just scrambled eggs and perfectly roasted toast, with those tomatoes on the side, that he’d promised you the day before.

Marcus let you finish before he started talking again.

“Yeah, he’s gonna coordinate for us at HQ, so we can keep our attention on the rest of the country, and world.”

“Is he okay?”

“Shaken, for numerous reasons, but determined to get his lives work back in order. He told me about the early days, and how he and your mom whipped the first supers into heroes.”

“Really? Mom doesn’t talk about those days much. She’s told me a lot about my father, but not that much about herself.”

“Well, she seems to have been a tour de force all her life, from what Allen described. And after what you’ve told me about your dad, I can see why he would’ve fallen for her. They were a good match.”

“She always says that the best thing about him was how good he was at driving her up the walls, because it forced her to really look at him.”

“I see what she means.”

“I don’t drive you up the walls. Do I?”

“Mostly just in the mornings, when you know I’m not susceptible to ‘fun’, but other than that, you’re pretty well behaved.”

“Oh, no, the mornings don’t count.”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because your morning mood is way too amusing not to take advantage of.”

“Hey! That is so not fair, I can’t help it that my brain just won’t start on all cylinders at once. And, for the record, this is the second morning in a row that I haven’t been cranky first thing.”

His whole face lit up in a dazzling smile at that.

“Wow. That’s more than just a record, babe, that’s almost worthy of a mention on CNN.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! How could you do that to her?! I have always been your friend, protected you, guided you, helped you any way I could… and you almost kill my wife!!”

A voice came from the living room, and with the way the house was designed, about half of that space was visible from the kitchen, while the other half was hidden behind the dining room.

He didn’t need to step into view from behind the wall that separated the two areas, for either of you to know who it was. The truth-seeker had a very recognisable tone and rhythm of speech. But when he did appear, you couldn’t help yourself from getting out of your chair and taking a few steps back towards the kitchen counter, needing as much space between you as possible.

Marcus, on the other hand, turned positively feral. He rushed Verity and wrestled him to the floor, while screaming at him.

“I would never have let her come to any harm.”

You’d never seen him angry like this. Usually he internalised it, afraid to let it loose because of what his powers might do, but this was more than anger. He felt betrayed by one of his oldest friends, and it enraged him in a way that didn’t even involve his powers.

He had Verity pinned on the floor and was sitting on top of him with his hands around his neck, every muscle in his body was tensed to the breaking-point and there where visible veins pulsing in his face, neck and arms.

“Are you seriously fucking lying to me right now?! You did harm her, you ignorant piece of shit! Just because she’s the strongest fucking person you’ve ever met, doesn’t mean you can’t hurt her! She could barely even walk!”

“But she’s not damaged. Her mind is intact.”

“I don’t believe this…I don’t fucking believe it!”

He got off of Verity and dragged him up to standing before shoving him down on the nearest chair, still keeping himself in between you and the trespasser. He paced in front of him while he continued to rail at him.

“Are you seriously telling me, that you don’t know the difference between physically harming someone, and hurting them? How is that even possible, with all the crap you went through as a kid? How do you not know the difference?!”

“It was a memory. Hiding them away only ever hurts you, I was trying to help her.”

“Did you see the fucking memory?!”

“Yes.”

“Tell me exactly how seeing those faces for the rest of her life is gonna help her!”

“It already has.”

His eyes shifted to yours, and you instinctively tried to back away further.

“That memory has already made you understand why you have the powers you do.”

His energy flowed through you, and it made you feel sick. You closed your eyes in a useless attempt to keep him out, but you felt him explore your mind again, bringing those images to the forefront of your thoughts.

“Seeing their suffering solidified everything that you are. Through all his torture and experiments, all you wanted was to live. But for them… you wanted to die. You wanted to exchange your life for theirs. That’s your true strength – your armour and your weapon. Look at their faces, Rain. See them and know who you are.”

“You think that just because you know the truth, you understand everything? Do you think you know how this feels? Do you think you have any idea how much this hurts me? Do you not even see how you’re manipulating me?”

Your blood suddenly boiled with fury. Who was he to command your thoughts? To impose his perspective on you? This man that had hurt you so badly, only to uncover a truth he had no right to.

The entire house shook as your powers awoke with a vengeance. You snapped your eyes back open just as Marcus turned back to look at you, realising what was happening.

But you loved this house, you weren’t gonna put a single fucking dent on it.

Reaching into that special place inside of you, where you’d learned you could find that sparkling dust, you drew it out and gathered it in large quantities on the floor in front of Verity. Then you allowed your mind to fill with the images of those innocent children, in their dying moments, and transferred those images into the dust.

Fifteen lifelike sculptures appeared in the sparkles, perfect re-creations of the dead and long forgotten sacrifices, that Verity had never met, never known, and yet felt he had the right to use like string-puppets.

He had the audacity to smile at your creations.

His smile faded as you spoke, but he made no attempt to apologise.

“You’re using my pain to force my hand. You know that my powers hurt me, and you force me to use them anyway. And for what? To try and prove you were right?”

“No. If anything, my efforts should tell you exactly how much we need your powers in this war. You asked me to help you win it. That’s all I’m doing.”

“And if our baby dies because of it, that’s just another sacrifice for the greater good?!”

The sculptures collapsed into mere piles on the floor, and you glared at him furiously, daring him to answer you.

“I don’t believe your baby will be harmed by your abilities.”

“Your beliefs are of no fucking relevance to me. Tell me if you would care… at all… if another child had to die in order for us to win this war?”

He paused, but not to consider his answer, only how you would react to it.

“No. I wouldn’t care. Wars kill people, of all ages, it doesn’t discriminate. Many more will die before it’s over, and if we’re going to be outraged over each and every one of them, then we won’t have time to fight.”

Marcus closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“That’s not the point, V. The point is that we only win if we still care. If we stop caring about life and suffering, then we might as well join the assholes. Can’t you see that?”

“I haven’t lived like you have, Marcus. Caring has never been a luxury I’ve been able to enjoy. I have nothing. No possessions, no family, one person I would call a friend, and whom, despite my best efforts, I do care about.”

“Then it should matter to you whether or not my family is safe and well.”

“It does, and they are. When I say that I don’t believe that your wife’s powers will harm your child, I’m not just guessing. I can see your powers, Rain, the core of them. And while they do damage you a little bit every time you use them, I don’t believe that that damage actually harms you. I believe it slowly changes you.”

“Changes me… Why? Into what?”

“I couldn’t say for sure, but I don’t think it’s that kind of change. I think it’s simply trying to make you stronger, physically. As in, superhumanly strong. Invincible. And if anyone’s body could – it’d be yours.”

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, please don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@allmyspideys

@blueeyesatnight

@hrk-fic-recs

@strawberryperegrine

@lucrezia-thoughts

@computeringturtle

@sarahjkl82-blog

@giselatropicana

@ayamenimthiriel

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

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crystalstar8 · 3 years

Text

Knights of the Night (ch 7)

Chapter 7

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,367

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j @daechwitad-2 @zobadak

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing…

After they had shown the ghost hunting documentary at game night, which everyone had loved, Jungkook declared that he was thirsty and was going on a hunt for beverages. That’s how Catalina found herself searching the front of the house for the garage with him, since Taehyung said, “There’s soda pop in the garage refrigerator.”

They ended up in a back kitchen, which connected to a mudroom, which led them to the garage. The garage was filled with ancient looking equipment and a tractor so rusty, Catalina figured she could shatter it with a good tap.

“Here they are!” Jungkook said, facing two refrigerators against the wall.

“Which one is for the soda pop?” asked Catalina. Jungkook opened both at once. The one on the left was filled with pop, beer and a single head of moldy broccoli. The other was filled with…

“What do you want? Coke?” Jungkook asked, closing the other fridge and reaching into left one.

“Wait, what was in that other fridge?” asked Catalina. She opened the one on the right. Blood bags. It was filled with blood bags. They both gasped.

“The secret soda pop,” Jungkook whispered. Catalina slapped his arm.

“Jungkook! Why do they have these?” she asked. Jungkook shook his head.

“I don’t know. Maybe one of them is a doctor or something?” he said.

“Probably not,” Catalina thought for a moment. “Not a word about this to anyone. We’ll discuss it later. Let’s just go enjoy game night. We probably shouldn’t stay the night though. Just in case.”

“Right. Got it. So, coke?” he asked, pulling an entire case of coke out of the left fridge.

“Yeah, coke is good,” Catalina nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Catalina sat up in bed on her laptop, unable to fall asleep. She just couldn’t stop thinking about what she saw in that fridge. She opened Google on her laptop and typed in “vampires”. Most of the sites that came up were about vampire novels or movies. She typed in “vampire history” instead. This gave her a bit more. There were tales about bloodsucking monsters all over the world. In Europe, they were considered demons or witches. There were many names for them throughout the middle east and Asia, but all the stories had the same few things in common: red eyes, superhuman speed and strength, unnatural beauty, and the need to drink human blood.

Catalina closed her laptop and sat against the wall, since her mattress was still on the floor against the wall. She had seen enough. Catalina knew what she needed to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The front door looked less intimidating than it did the first time Catalina had laid eyes on the house, but her heart still pounded in her chest as she raised a hand to knock. She waited a few seconds before the door opened. It was Namjoon. Catalina’s heart stuttered. God damn, he is so beautiful…

“Oh, hi!” he said. “What are you doing out so late? Not that I mind seeing you- I mean…”

Catalina giggled and momentarily forgot why she was here. Namjoon scratched the back of his head.

“Um, anyway, come on in,” he said.

“I was actually wondering if we could go for a walk,” said Catalina. Namjoon nodded and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. He led Catalina into the woods on the cobblestone path.

“Is there something you wanted to talk about?” he asked as they strolled side by side. Catalina felt her heartrate pick up again.

“I know what you are,” she said. Namjoon stopped and faced her.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Don’t play dumb Namjoon. I know what you are,” said Catalina. The confusion melted from his face, replaced with an intense gaze.

“Say it,” said Namjoon.

“You have blood red eyes, and all of you are unnaturally beautiful. I haven’t seen it, but I bet you have superhuman strength and speed,” said Catalina. “I saw the fridge in the garage. It was filled with blood bags.”

“Say it,” Namjoon said again. “Out loud.”

“Vampire.”

“Are you afraid?”

“I know you won’t hurt me,” Catalina said, looking up at him.

“You know the risk, and yet, you still want to see us,” he said.

“You’re not a killer.”

“I’m a predator, Catalina. Everything about me is meant to draw you in. You couldn’t outrun me if you tried, and you certainly couldn’t fight me,” said Namjoon.

“Namjoon. I don’t care. You and your friends have been nothing but kind to us. I’ve seen you all and none of you seem like you want to drink our blood,” said Catalina.

Namjoon scoffed and said, “You have no idea how much I’d like to taste your blood. You smell…irresistible.”

Catalina blushed. “Can you stop? Once you’ve had a taste?”

“What?”

“I mean, if you were to drink from me, would you be able to control yourself before you took too much?” Catalina asked. She couldn’t believe what she was saying. She was playing with fire, but the thought of it made her a bit dizzy with anticipation. Her blush was hot all the way down her neck.

Namjoon stared at her and said, “You can’t be serious.”

Catalina shrugged and brushed her hair off her shoulder, baring her neck. Namjoon smirked and shook his head. Catalina’s flush turned to one of embarrassment.

“I’m not drinking from you,” Namjoon said. “I’m old enough to control myself, but what if I wasn’t? A younger vampire wouldn’t have turned you down either.”

Catalina sighed and said, “Sorry, I don’t know why I asked that.”

“It’s okay,” Namjoon said. They continued walking.

“So, vampires are real?” Catalina asked. Namjoon nodded. “Are other things real? Like werewolves and demons?”

“Werewolves are real, but you probably won’t ever meet one,” Namjoon explained. “They tend to live off the grid and the ones who don’t are hunted pretty relentlessly by the Pack Hunters. Also, demons[PG1] aren’t real. Religion is a human based concept that holds no truth.”

“So, crucifixes don’t repel you or anything?” Catalina asked. Namjoon laughed and said no. “Cool, wait who are the Pack Hunters?”

“The Pack Hunters are an organization that hunts werewolves,” he said. “They say that they’re protecting society but most of the time, the people they hunt are harmless, just trying to live peacefully. It is a problem in the werewolf community. Werewolves can no longer live in packs like they used to. They’ve been on the run for so long, it’s basically every man for himself.”

“That’s terrible,” said Catalina. She had so many questions buzzing through her head and she didn’t know where to start. She supposed what she was most curious about was what lore was true and what wasn’t. “Do you have fangs?”

Namjoon flashed a toothy smile, showing off sharp fangs. Catalina gasped.

“I didn’t notice those on any of you guys before!” she said.

“That’s because we didn’t want you to notice,” said Namjoon.

“Can you be killed with a wooden stake?” asked Catalina.

“No.”

“Does silver hurt you?”

“Yes, it just burns a bit.”

“Can you enter a place before being invited in?”

“It’s not the polite thing to do, but technically yes.

“Do you burn up in sunlight?”

“Not exactly, we’re just more susceptible to really bad sunburns.”

“Are you actually immortal?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?” Catalina asked.

“Twenty-three.”

“How long have you been twenty-three?”

A pause. “A while. Catalina, I’d love to stay out and answer your questions, but don’t you have class tomorrow morning?” asked Namjoon.

“Do you need sleep?” she asked. Namjoon sighed.

“No, I can sleep but I don’t need to. I’m pretty sure it’s nearing two in the morning,” he said.

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry for bombarding you with questions,” said Catalina. They stepped off the trail and Catalina didn’t even realize they had made their way back to the house.

“No, it’s okay,” said Namjoon. “I never mind spending time with you.”

Catalina blushed again.

“I like spending time with you too,” Catalina mumbled, playing with the ends of her hair.

“I’ll drive you home. Someone recently went missing in this town, you shouldn’t be out at night alone,” he said.

(Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!!!)

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adventure-showdown · 7 months

Text

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 3 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

Unnatural History

Synopsis

""They called it the Millennium Effect"", said the Doctor. ""But the millennium was only beginning.""

San Francisco has changed since the start of 2000. The laws of physics keep having acid flashbacks. There are sightings of creatures from outside our dimensions, stranded aliens and surrealist street performers. The city has become a mecca for those who revel in impossible creatures — and those who want to see them pinned down and put away.

Sam's past is catching up with her — a past she didn't know she had. The Doctor is in danger of becoming the pièce de résistance in a twisted collection of creatures. And beneath the waters of the Bay, something huge is waiting.

With time running out, the Doctor must choose which to sacrifice — a city of wonders, or the life of an old and dear friend.

Propaganda

You too want to read a full novel explanation of why Dr Who canon is Like That (hint: it's little assholes who opt to look like 10 year olds wearing skull masks). Also unicorns in San Francisco. Unsurprisingly does feature Fitz being astoundingly gay for 8. (@eighthdoctor )

The villain of the week wants the Doctor to have a consistent backstory. This is bad because it’s not Doctor Who without plotholes and inconsistencies. Plus, it was published in 1999 (?) and there’s a line about how Gallifrey is always destroyed and un-destroyed. They didn’t even know… (anonymous)

Vampire Science

Synopsis

In the days when the Time Lords were young, their war with the Vampires cost trillions of lives on countless worlds. Now the Vampires have been sighted again, in San Francisco. Some want to coexist with humans, using genetic engineering in a macabre experiment to find a new source of blood. But some would rather go out in a blaze of glory — and UNIT's attempts to contain them could provoke another devastating war.

The Doctor strikes a dangerous bargain, but even he might not be able to keep the city from getting caught in the crossfire. While he finds himself caught in a web of old feuds and high-tech schemes, his new companion Sam finds just how deadly travelling with the Doctor can be.

Propaganda

I could say many things about this book, but honestly the fact that there’s a vampire snail is enough (anonymous)

you know that meme with the wikipedia page that's like "instead of brain there is [insert thing here]"? that was me after reading this. it's extremely good (anonymous)

vampire crack squirrels. (@eighthdoctor )

Camp! And! Vamp! Also 8 keeps getting swarmed by kittens (anonymous)

#round 3

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being-of-rain · 4 years

Text

I've been enjoying the Time Lord Victorious series so far, and since I caught up with a lot of it recently and we’re about half-way through it, I thought I'd post a bunch of thoughts on it here together.

I’m fascinated by the idea of a Doctor Who series made up of lots of different interconnected media, which feels like a natural thing to do when you consider how much history the franchise has with so many different formats of storytelling. And it’s wild to me that, contrary to what I first assumed, it was actually conceived before the whole global pandemic thing happened; it felt like almost perfect timing to give Doctor Who fans something to think about during lockdown.

One of the series’ greatest shortcomings was its promotion, which seemed to consist entirely of the title and that one promo visual. The lack of a clear, simple, all-encompassing premise from the start means that I still see fans reacting to TLV with confusion. Using ‘Time Lord Victorious’ as the only promotion also feels a little misleading - I think many people imagined the series being an Evil Ten AU (similar to the timeline glimpsed in the Four Doctors comic), when really most of the content is either building up to that or just tangentially connected to it. On the other hand, the series was clearly lovingly designed for Who fans (who are all about piecing together timelines and consuming a large range of stories) instead of a wider audience, so the unclear promotion feels more like a miscalculation than a fatal error.

Defender of the Daleks: Titan’s comic is easily the weakest link of the series for me- it didn’t have a meaningful part of the series to fill, I was bothered by a lot of the page layouts, and it felt like a lot of it was made only for Dalek superfans. Well, I genuinely hope the Dalek superfans enjoyed it.

Monstrous Beauty: It’s really nice to see BBC give Nine some love in the series, and you can tell writers like Scott Gray and Steve Cole enjoyed writing for him and Rose. The extreme gothic aesthetic for the Dark Times, the Great Vampires, and the coffin ship is lots of fun, even if the story itself is a little straight-forward and meandering. Rassilon turning up felt very unnessecary to me, at this point I wish authors would leave the Time Lords’ founders alone unless they have something genuinely interesting to add. Admittedly, seeing the Cucurbites return and Nine make an explicit reference to the ‘90s Eight comics made my day. Y’all know I’m an Eight comics nerd.

Master Thief/Lesser Evils: Honestly, both of these stories left me a little confused to what actually happened in them, and what the point of them were. The first one didn’t even seem to tie in to TLV at all. Despite that, I’m really happy to see the Delgado Master and Ainley Master get some audios to themselves. Both characters were captured wonderfully by the stories and were a joy to listen to.

He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not: I was really surprised by this just being an out-and-out Western, but I loved it! Brian sticking close to his hostage while the other characters slowly pieced together what was going on and what they should do about it made for a very different kind of tension to the usual Who story. Brian’s explanation about killing with a thought made me properly nervous about him being around any other characters. I’m glad they got to do some non-formulaic stuff with Eight before the Daleks turned up at the end. Overall, the Daleks have a larger part in TLV than I’m happy with, since it makes it feel like the series is split between experimenting with new ideas and retreading old ground.

The Knight, The Fool and The Dead: The novels are definitely the heart of the Time Lord Victorious story, and so I’m very happy with the choice of authors for them. This first one was great. I really liked Ten’s characterisation of being at his limit but trying to continue on as normal and do what’s right.

His temporary companion Brian the Ood Assassin is every bit as fun as the concept sounds. I love how Brian doesn’t (usually) try to hide that he’s a merciless murder, but is still very polite and dresses in a tux. The little descriptions of him commanding a space fleet of mercenaries like a headwaiter running an expensive restaurant are hilarious. I can’t wait for more stories with him.

The villains of the piece, the Kotturuh, are surprisingly and delightfully eldritch, with their tentacles and their symbols in the sky. Not to mention their plans for the universe written on the cave walls of the planet that acts as a gateway between their cosmos and ours, writing which make people who look at it go mad. The Kotturuh, or Kotts, spread the effects of a natural lifespan to every species in the universe, ending an era of immortality for most of them.

This leads me to the heart of the story, and the premise of the series as a whole; is the Doctor doing the right thing by trying to stopping natural death from spreading in the Dark Times? But there’s a problem here. The concept of death being unnatural is one that TLV introduces to the Doctor Who universe without warning or really giving you space to process it. If all death by old age is something artificially added to the universe, and isn’t a natural part of life and change (as has been part of the heart of basically every other Who story), then is it really wrong to oppose that? Surely that would make the Kotts the uncontested biggest mass murderers in the history of everything. It feels like we need to develop a whole new moral compass just to reckon with this. And it doesn’t help that the other side of the argument is about if it’s right to change time, something the Who franchise has never been super consistent about and another thing that we don’t have morality established to deal with in the real world.

It feels like far too complex a set-up to be explored in just two short novels and a collection of tie-ins more interested in Daleks and Ood than the Time Lord Victorious himself. I’m a little worried that the moral question will be boiled down to the ‘killing is inconceivable even in the face of genocide’ stance that the franchise has held before, and practically never handled well. But needless to say, I’m very interested in what will happen in the future stories, especially second novel and series finale All Flesh Is Grass.

#Time Lord Victorious #Tenth Doctor #Ninth Doctor #Eighth Doctor #Daleks #my posts #my thoughts #I hope the read more works #also sorry if there's any mistakes or bad wording. It's past midnight whoops #Yknow maybe I should get a real blog and not a tumblr one for this kind of thing #Ten #Brian #Nine #Rose #Eight #Master

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myhauntedsalem · 4 years

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30 Doctors, Nurses and Paramedics Describe their Most Disturbing Medical Stories

1. The Guessing Game

“I work as an ICU nurse. A mid-20s female came in with some serious cardiac abnormalities and then went into respiratory distress. Never had any medical history at all. We had to put her on the ventilator, but she was on just enough sedation to keep her lucid. She could nod/shake her head yes and no appropriately to questions.

One night, the patient in the room next to hers died, but the body was still in the room about to be taken to the morgue. The female patient’s door was closed with curtains drawn, so she couldn’t have seen what was going on next door. When I went in to check on her, she had a look of sheer panic on her face, trembling. I asked her a series of questions to see if she was cold/hot/in pain/etc. and she denied all. I asked her if she saw something—she started to aggressively nod her head YES. She wasn’t on any drugs that would make her hallucinate. I went on to get details on what this thing looked like. After playing 20 questions I got this: a man, pale white, left arm missing, heavy, bald, standing still, behind me. This was the man who had just died next door.

I spent the rest of the night consoling her.” – whites42

2. Life After Death

“When I was on an ER rotation during med school we got a call about a 23-year-old woman who was shot in the head, and who was already completely gone, but was reportedly five months pregnant so they were doing CPR until they got her to the hospital to see if the baby was viable. They got her to the ER and did an ultrasound and turned out the baby was full-term so they did a C-section in like under a minute and got the baby out.

I don’t think it’s so incredibly uncommon but it was pretty surreal to see a baby delivered from a dead person with their brain exposed and she was pretty close to the same age I was at the time.” – bluegraypurple

3. The Last Goodbye

“When I was a student, I got called in on a stroke patient. She had coded and they were doing CPR. They worked for 45 minutes, but she died. They cleaned her up, and called on the family to say goodbye, but by that time the family left. She had been both brain dead and without a pulse for more than 45 minutes. Blood had filled her brain, and she was completely grey and started to smell. Suddenly, she sat up, and called for her family. The nurses rushed to get monitors and equipment back on her. They started working on her again, she stabilized, said goodbye to her family, and promptly died a second time.” – simplesimon6262

4. Miracle Man

“When I was in trauma surgery in upstate by, got a notification about a man who was shot 3 times in the head. He comes in, literally one eye hanging out of the socket, blood everywhere, and he’s slumped forward. Apparently, he was shot in the temple, exited out his right eye socket, in the nose exited from the roof of the mouth, and In the cheek one with exit from the side of the head.

At this point, I’m thinking they just brought him in so we can pronounce him in the ER because he looked dead. I go to examine him and tilt his head back, and he says ‘Yoooo be gentle!’ I jump back and scream like a little boy, as did everyone in the room. Literally, the bullets missed his brain in every single shot.” – Noimnotonacid

5. Bleeding

“One of the aides I work with said she was doing postmortem care on a patient who had been on many, many anticoagulants before death. She said when they turned her on her side she started bleeding out of every orifice—eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. She said her and the nurse went home and had nightmares for a week.” – sparklingbluelight

6. The Haunted Hospital

“My town has two really old hospitals. One no longer functions overnight, and the stories are unsettling. No one cleans the old ER alone because all the lights and call bells go off. On other floors, there’s a kid with his ball, a lady in a white dress, etc. A coworker was cleaning an entire floor utterly solo (the norm) and bounced between rooms because the cleaning solution stays wet for a few minutes. Upon returning to a freshly wiped bed, hand prints were clearly visible.” – Sapphire_Starr

7. Eyeless

“I used to do home care for an elderly lady with learning disabilities and no eyes (they were removed due to a congenital condition). She was lovely but prone to wandering around her flat at night in total silence, which led to several horrifying situations where I left my room at 2 am only to encounter her standing silently in the hallway, turning her eyeless face towards me.” – NovelistResearcher

8. Lonely

“One call that will always haunt me was on an unresponsive female at around three in the morning. We get there and do some pointless CPR along with the fire department… She had been dead for a while; no shock-able rhythm, and clear rigor mortis. The most disturbing part was that the original caller was her 11-year-old daughter, who had just spent three days with her mother’s corpse and called 9-1-1 because she was ‘lonely’. It also didn’t help that the victim was completely naked when we arrived.” – CupofJoe776

9. Clear Waters

“I have quite a few stories, most of them are hilarious and then there are those you never want to think about. What fucked me up the most was when I saw how eyes change at the moment of death. Imagine you are looking at clear water but that clear water changes to foggy in an instant. In my 8 years here I’ve only seen this once, and I’ve personally seen well over 250 dead or dying people.” – ImCuden

10. Night Lights

“I work nights in a long-term care facility as a nurse’s assistant. I have two men under my care and both of them are unable to use their call lights. They have severe dementia and debilitating Parkinson’s disease but still, their lights are looped around their bed rail. One night their light came on and I went to answer it already confused and creeped out. I turned it off and left the room. Before I could get two doors up the light came back on. I went in there and both lights were unplugged from the wall and thrown under their beds. I fished them out, plugged them back in and left.

I’ve seen shadows standing over the dying and felt a tap on my shoulder while doing chest compression’s so I knew that lady had passed.” – beeoakly

11. Holding Hands

“I’ve had a couple of weird calls. One was a major MVA-head on many, many years ago when we played M.E. as well. We had 2 DOA (husband and spouse) that were killed instantly in a head-on collision. They had a 12-year-old daughter that was in between them and they actually took the impact, saving her life.

While en route, we noticed the husband’s arm had come loose so I went back to re-strap it. As I was doing that, the wife’s arm suddenly fell out as well, and her hand fell into her husband’s. My boss was watching in the rearview mirror and helped clear the way as I ran back into the front. It spooked both of us. Apparently, the couple (mid 30’s), had just found out he was cancer free after his last treatment.” – Anonymous

12. Last Meal

“I had an old lady come in by ambulance, near death. She was a DNR (do-not-resuscitate), so we weren’t going to do much for her. She didn’t have any family that we could find. The hospital was full, so we had to keep her in the ER for the night.

Again, she was near death. When you’ve seen enough people die, there’s no mistaking it, and she was almost there. Barely responsive; pale, cool, breaths were really irregular, heart rate was up and down, too. We just turned the lights down and kept an eye on her monitor, basically waiting for her to die.

About an hour later, she’s standing at the door of her room. She’d gotten up and put on all her clothes. We were all like, ‘WTF?’ One of the nurses went to check on her, and she said she was hungry. Not knowing really what to make of things, we got her a chair, a bedside table, and went to the cafeteria and got her a tray of food.

She sat there, ate all her food, talked with the staff a little. After about an hour, she told her nurse that she was tired and wanted to lie back down. We helped her back into bed, and within 30 minutes she was dead.” – Anonymous

13. “Don’t Let me go Back there”

“When my mom worked as an E.R. nurse a guy came in from a car accident and was losing blood. In the midst of resuscitation, the man jolts awake and screams ‘Don’t let me go back there! Please, please, please don’t let me go back!’ A few seconds later they lost him.” – JeremyHowell

14. The Rusty Old Saw

“This woman was clearly struggling mentally. She went into her basement and started sawing at her wrists horizontally with a rusty hacksaw, bleeds a good amount, and then starts walking around the house. She wasn’t dying quick enough, so she sat down in a chair in the middle of the living room, and started going at her wrists again, this time with a pair of scissors.

I was the second person inside the house. It looked like a massacre. We searched the house top to bottom, fully expecting to find multiple dead bodies in there. I’ve never seen so much blood in my life. Every single room had a trail of blood in it.

The woman was found on a chair in the living room. Rigor mortis had contorted her body into a really strange, unnatural pose, and her face was haunting. Literally the stuff of nightmares. Her wrists had huge chunks of skin/veins/muscle missing from them. Saying she slit her wrists is inaccurate. She ripped them to pieces.” – anoncop1

15. Visitors

“I work a stroke/telemetry floor on the bought shift. Most of our patients are elderly. Apparently, there are two things that patients see before they pass away. Some will say that two men are walking in their rooms and telling them to get ready to leave. The patient will call and tell us that these men are big and abrasive in their demeanor. They are either terrified or annoyed when they see the two men. The other thing they will see is a little boy who will go into their rooms and try to wake them up. The boy is usually loud and runs around their rooms. The patients will call and ask who’s letting children just run around late night. Several nights or even that same shift we’re coding or cleaning the patient for the funeral home to pick up.” – pokfynder

16. The Handsome Man in Black

“I used to work in a skilled nursing facility, usually assigned to the Alzheimer’s ward. One night I’m in the linen room stocking my cart, and I heard someone shuffle up behind me, then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and there was no one else in the room. The door was still shut too.

Another lady started to complain that a man was coming into her room at night (again, Alzheimer’s so I didn’t think much of it) so to reassure her, I told her I’d check on her throughout the night. She complained of this man for every night for two more weeks when I asked her to describe him to me.

‘He’s real handsome, and wears a black suit. Oh. He’s right behind you now, honey.’

That freaked me the f*ck out. Of course, there was no one behind me. She died the next night in her sleep.” – Anonymous

17. The Blender

“We got a call for a male in his early 30s with ‘heavy groin trauma’ (exact words of the dispatcher). We roll up lights and sirens and the guy is waiting for us on the front step with a towel over his crotch. We barely come to a stop and the guy is already running towards the rig holding this towel. I asked him what was wrong and he moved the towel and this guy’s dick was just barely hanging on. Apparently, he had ‘lady problems’ so he decided to fornicate with the food mixer he had in his kitchen and accidentally turned it on.” – YayShinny

18. The Charred Skin

“Motorcycle driver, accident, third-degree burns, arrived DOA. Had to transfer him from ambulance gurney to ER bed. As we were moving him with a transfer sheet, the liquefied/cooked subcutaneous fat caused the charred skin on his back to separate and his body slipped onto the floor (despite several of us trying to ‘catch’ him).” – Doc-in-a-box

19. Dead Man Moaning

“Worked security through college at a local hospital. The only ‘creepy’ thing I remember is when a dead man moaned. One of my duties was to help wheel patients who had expired down to the in-house morgue. Once we were wheeling an older man from the ER down and halfway down the hallway he let out this low moan. I started to panic, thinking that he was coming back to life but the RN explained to me (newbie) that sometimes the air in the lungs doesn’t come out until sometime later or is delayed for a bit.” – ill_do_it-later

20. Otherworldly Screams

“I have had fellow coworkers swear that strange things have occurred in the ER. Two people that I work with were charting at the nurse’s station when they both heard a scream followed by incoherent words come from one of our open bays. There were three patients in the room and they denied screaming or hearing anything. I have also had fellow coworkers talk about hearing strange voices especially after really bad codes and one person states she felt someone grabbing her shoulder after the doc pronounced a trauma code. These are all respectable people and I do not think they would lie.” – Anonymous

21. Blank Stare

“We got a call to go out to a scene for an elderly woman with chest pains. I arrive at the house, front door is open. We knock, hear the old woman calling out from the back ‘I’m in the back room’ in a very monotone and calm voice. My partner and I go to the back of the house looking for this woman, and that’s when we smelled it. Nothing prepares you for the smell of rotting corpse. I’ve smelled it a dozen times, and it never gets any less disturbing. We radio for police and ALS backup as we move through the house.

We opened the door to the master bedroom, and there is our patient. She is approximately 80, and she is staring at the master bathroom with these cold, dead eyes. She never once looked at us as we approached her and began talking to her. I got to the bedside and got in front of her gaze, and she just looked right through me. I turned around to see what she could possibly be looking at, and there was the source of my smell.

A man, about the same age as my patient, is on the floor with very little left of his head still attached to his body. A shotgun lay on the floor next to him, and most of his head was strewn about the walls and bathroom counter. We loaded the woman up in the ambulance, and our police backup pulled up.

I don’t think that woman blinked once the entire time she was in our care.” – TheFilthiest

22. “Bill’s Here”

“I’m an RN and while I was a student I was caring for a lady who had an end-stage renal failure, had a DNAR (do not attempt resuscitation) and was shutting down. We were having a little chat when she stopped, looked over my shoulder and said ‘Bill’s here love, I’ve got to go,’ and swiftly stopped breathing. Read her old notes and Bill was her deceased husband.” – Jesspandapants

23. The Body on the Floor

“The call was for an older woman, lying in bed. When we get there, the smell is horrendous of a dead body. There are millions of flies everywhere and a little old lady in lying in the bed, alive. About five feet away, there is a body covered up by a sheet. The lady was a dementia patient, and her husband (the deceased) was the primary caregiver. Based on the number of flies and state of decomposition, the police estimated the guy had been dead for about three weeks. The woman must have been getting some food out of the refrigerator, but it was totally empty by the time we arrived.

The creepiest part happened on the way to the hospital with the woman, she said, ‘I hope that nice man on the floor is OK’.” – Tools4toys

24. The Fallen Cross

“I responded to a call where a janitor was dusting quite a large stone cross in the middle of a church. He had been up on a ladder cleaning, when he slipped off, and proceeded to try to hold onto the cross to keep from falling. Unfortunately, the weight of the 200-pound man was too much to support. The cross fell towards him, landing on his left arm, with a part of the horizontal stone of the cross, pushing his muscles and tendons out of his wrist like a squeezed toothpaste tube. Then the cross fell completely on him splattering his brain across the floor. Quite disturbing, and definitely the most horrific and gore filled call I had ever witnessed.” – UpboatOarKnotUpboat

25. The Headless Nurse

“I used to work in St Barts Hospital in London, which in parts is over 1,000 years old. One of the buildings had 2 floors (with massively high ceilings), and so the floors were taken out and rearranged to make into 5 floors. The nurses working night shift would often tell us of the ghost of a night nurse who wandered silently doing her ’rounds’ at night—but due to the new floors, only her head would be visible drifting down the ward.” – jenthejedi

26. Monsters

“I was still a nursing student at the time, but this was from when I had my psychiatric clinical placement in my 3rd year.

I was assigned to a young male patient with schizophrenia. He had been a voluntary admission because he heard voices telling him to hurt people around him, and he admitted himself because he was afraid of actually going through with it.

Anyway, I went into the room alone, as usual, and did the usual introduction and asking how he was doing. He was at a desk drawing creepy, hideous monsters—each monster had its own page, and there had to be at least half a dozen of these pages scattered around him. I asked him what they were. He answered that those were the monsters he saw. They were the monsters that whispered to him and told him to hurt people and do awful things. Guarded, I asked him, ‘Are they telling you to hurt me?’

He answered, ‘Yes.’

I didn’t stay very long in that room.” – duckface08

27. The Man in Black

“People turn batshit crazy and creepy as hell when they get really sick. There’s even a term called ICU psychosis…and trust me, it’s real. Anyway, the creepiest that takes the cake for me is this (am an ICU nurse, btw): Had a patient who was admitted for overdose. Very long history of mental health problems. She was thrashing around in bed, very combative, kicking people’s asses for days, totally incoherent.

Well, the night I had her, she started making decent sense, but still not oriented at all. She was extremely paranoid and kept talking about the man in black in the corner. I’d hear her talking to him and screaming, all night long. So I’d go in there and try to calm her down, but you could see the fear in her eyes. she was talking other nonsense about how she was in space and shit, and with certain patients, you try to redirect their ‘reality,’ but what I did didn’t help. She said ‘that man in black! Don’t you see him!’ and pointed to the corner. I said ‘there’s nobody here.’ I stepped in the corner she was pointing to and waved my hands around. While I’m waving my hands around in the air, she had the most horrifically terrified look on her face that actually scared the shit out of me, like I had just assaulted the man in black. I said ‘see, there’s nobody here’ and she said in a matter-of-factly that’s what you think.’ I promptly got the fu*k out of there.” – HeatherTakasaki

28. Eyes Wide Open

“I work in palliative. Most deaths I’ve seen have been more or less peaceful, though the ones that are not, stick with you. One guy was silently screaming through his last few hours of life. Another guy (who up until this point had been unresponsive) reached up and grabbed me when we attempted to lower his bed to turn him.

One time while doing post-mortem care I walked into the room and thought ‘that’s weird, how come nobody has closed his eyes yet?’ He had that movie-perfect dead look, with pale blue staring eyes and slack jaw and greyish, waxy skin. I closed his eyes and started the care, and when I looked again those eyes, still staring at me, were slowly opening, one slightly slower than the other. He groaned when we turned him to wash his back and his hand managed to clamp onto the bed rail and we had to pry it off. When we finally got him onto his back again, there was a foul-smelling, oily black, viscous liquid on the pillowcase. I cleaned his mouth again thinking it must have come from there, but his mouth and nose were clean. The best I could figure the stuff had come from his eye. I couldn’t wait to get that bag zipped up.” – draakons_pryde

29. Crawling up the Hallway

“I used to work as an STNA in a nursing home. Worked third shift throughout university. During the night we turned half the lights off so it was darker for the evening and didn’t get a lot of light in the residents’ rooms. We had one resident who was younger (70s) and was mostly in for mental reasons. She had long, dark hair and was very thin.

I was sitting at the nurse’s station at the top of the hall and heard a call light go off. I stood up, looked down the dark hall, and on all fours—straight out of The Ring—this resident was crawling up the hall toward me. The other STNA had forgotten to put the bed rail up and the resident was VERY good at climbing out of bed.

Needless to say, I needed some new britches and my heart was racing a mile a minute.” – blameitonthewookie

30. Heaven

“Had a young woman in full liver failure. She was orange in color and she was still conscious. She asked me what I thought it would be like to die. I told her I didn’t know but I hoped it wouldn’t be painful. She then asked me if I thought I would go to heaven. I told her that I believed I would. She asked me if I thought she would go to heaven, and I told her I wasn’t able to answer that question.

She then told me ‘I am going to heaven and I know it,’ and I asked her how she knew that and she told me something that I will never ever forget. She told me ‘I know I am because that man over there told me so.’ I asked what man and she said the man sitting on the end of the bench. I asked her what he looked like and she said ‘he looks just like the Jesus on the windows of my church.’

Well, to tell you I was pretty well affected by that statement. She then went on to say ‘And he says that you are going to go to heaven too.’

We then prayed and I will never forget that interaction between the two of us. About a week later she passed away. I hope she made it to heaven.” – Anonymous

#30 Doctors Nurses and Paramedics Describe their Most Disturbing Medical Stories #shared stories #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits

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atths--twice · 4 years

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A Slightly Different Path

Now, I may have already posted this story before, but once again, we can always use more fiction in our lives, right? 😊

I wrote this for a friend who supplied the idea of, what if in The Sixth Extinction, instead of Scully saying, “Maybe as his partner, but not as his doctor,” she had said “but not as his wife.”

I had started to write an Unnatural and Amor Fati story some time ago. They have been tweaked a bit to now fit this idea, and Amor Fati was completely broken down and restructured. I love when that happens, while simultaneously feeling like I want to pull my hair out. 😊

While I believe that All Things was the first time for these two, I find that there is wiggle room, if I supply the wiggle, by looking at it from a different angle. Now, that doesn’t mean I think this story is canon by any means, but if you squint, and imagine it, I think this could possibly work...

Chapter One 1/3

A Bit More Natural

What if The Unnatural took a slightly different turn?

The book slammed down onto the desk with a heavy thud. It registered to him, but only insomuch that he realized he had slid down in his chair and needed to readjust his positioning. He looked over the top of the book and saw Scully. He offered her no words as he pulled himself up into a more comfortable position.

He saw her in his peripheral, standing up on the desk and looking up through the basement windows. He paid her no attention, but continued to read the book in front of him.

“Mulder, it is such a gorgeous day outside,” she said with longing. “Do you ever entertain the idea of trying to find life on this planet?”

“I have seen the life on this planet, Scully, and that is exactly why I am looking elsewhere,” he said, as he turned the page in the book. A crinkling sound got his attention, and he looked over to see Scully taking an ice cream from a brown paper bag, opening it, and taking a bite.

“Did you bring enough ice cream to share with the rest of the class?” he asked with disbelief as she seemed to have forgotten about him.

“It's not ice cream,” she said smugly, as though she had bested him. “It's a nonfat tofutti rice dreamsicle.”

“Ugh. Bet the air in my mouth tastes better than that,” he said, with a disgusted face. “You sure know how to live it up, Scully.”

“Oh, you're Mr. Live-it-up,” Scully said as she started to step down off the desk. “Mulder, you're really Mr. “Squeeze every last drop out of this sweet life,” aren’t you? On this precious Saturday you've got us grabbing life by the testes, stealing reference books from the FBI library in order to go through New Mexico newspaper obituaries for the years 1940 to 1949. And for what joyful purpose?” She stopped speaking and her words amused and aroused him.

“Looking for anomalies, Scully. Do you know how many so-called "flying disc" reports there were in New Mexico in the 1940s?” Ready to tell her, she interrupted him.

“I don't care. Mulder, this is a needle in a haystack. These poor souls have been dead for 50 years. Let them rest in peace. Let sleeping dogs lie,” she said, and he could hear her silent challenge.

“Well, I won't sit idly by as you hurl cliches at me. Preparation is the father of inspiration,” he said, throwing it back at her.

“Necessity is the mother of invention.”

“The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.”

“Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die,” she said, with a mischievous smile as she took another bite.

“I scream, you scream, we all scream for nonfat tofutti rice dreamsicles,” he said, setting the book down and lunging for the cone. He grabbed her arm and held it as he took a bite.

“No-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!” Scully yelled, with laughter in her voice. “Mulder!” The cone broke and fell onto the page of the book as they tussled with it.

“Mulder!? You cheat,” she said, looking at him with a smile, as she licked the remnants of the dreamsicle off her fingers. “I can't believe that you've been reading about baseball this whole time.”

“Reading the box scores, Scully. You'd like it. It's like the Pythagorean Theorem for jocks. It distills all the chaos and action of any game in the history of all baseball games into one tiny, perfect, rectangular sequence of numbers,” he told her, trying to explain his fascination to her; to share his passion for something he had loved for so long. “I can look at this box and I can recreate exactly what happened on some sunny summer day back in 1947. It's like the numbers talk to me, they comfort me. They tell me that even though lots of things can change, some things do remain the same. It's...

“Boring.”

“Boring? How can you say that? Here, look,” he said, quickly wiping off the book and going back a few pages, to one he had been reading a few minutes ago. “Ah, here it is. Look right here. See the runs, hits, the score. Inning 3 was exceptionally interesting. And it went to extra innings. That’s always exciting. Plus, you know it was more … scrappy back then, so I’m sure some kind of fist fight broke out during the course of the game.” He looked at the box score again and he smiled. He could almost smell the grass and feel the heat of the sun on his skin as he watched the game in his mind.

“So,” Scully said beside him, bringing him back to the present in their air conditioned basement office that smelled of … well, Scully, if he was being honest. He could smell her above anything else, especially standing as close as he was now. “So … I’ve been up and down many flights of stairs, lugging those huge books around, while you’ve been sitting here reading about baseball? Imagining some sunny day as you ate popcorn and watched men hitting balls with sticks? Am I understanding that properly?” Her eyebrows were up and he knew he was in trouble.

“Not the whole time,” he said, and if it was possible, her eyebrows went up higher. “Really, Scully, I was looking for anomalies. I am looking for them.”

“Buuut …” she drawled out.

He sighed and dropped his head. “I was also looking at box scores.”

“While I …” she prompted.

“Carried large and heavy books up and down the stairs,” he said as he looked up at her. She nodded, a smile spreading across her lips before her tongue ran across them. He moaned internally as he watched her, wondering how her lips would taste.

“So,” she said again, stepping away from him and gesturing with her arm for him to walk ahead of her. “You’ve not only made me do most of the work, on a Saturday, in a business suit, but broken up my tofutti rice dreamsicle. You owe me a new one, so let’s do it, Baseball Boy.” She waved her hand again and stared at him, her eyebrows way up. He narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head. She snapped her fingers and pointed, causing him to sigh.

“Fine,” he said, stepping past her and grabbing his jacket off the coat rack. “But we’re getting real ice cream, because that tofutti shit is awful. I think the air in my mouth actually tastes worse now. How do you eat those? Ugh.”

“Well, I didn’t really get to eat much of it as you so kindly wrestled it out of my hand,” she snorted, as they walked out the door and she closed and locked it behind her. He nodded at the janitor and heard her say hello again as they made their way to the stairs.

“Well,” he said, as they then walked to the elevator and he pushed the up button. “I did you a favor then, because that was disgusting and you should never eat it again. Ever.” She smiled at him and once again licked her lips, making him exhale loudly and wish the elevator would hurry the hell up.

Two elevator rides later, they walked into the parking garage and over to his car, with her telling him he was driving and treating her to an afternoon away from the office.

“The whole afternoon? You said ice cream,” he deadpanned, having no intention to go back to the office now that they were outside of it, but not wanting her to know just yet. “Scully, there are still two or three books waiting to be gone through on my desk.” She stopped walking and stared at him. Oh, eyebrows down, no smile.

Backtrack man, backtrack, he thought.

“Fine, Scully. The afternoon is yours, what do you wish to do?” He bowed slightly and she hummed in the affirmative, her heels clicking along the concrete once again. Raising his head, he grinned at her back as she walked to the passenger side and waited for him to unlock the door.

He hurried over and unlocked it, both of them getting inside. Putting on their seatbelts, she looked at him with a smirk. “Ice cream first. You need to begin your payment. I carried four books up and down the stairs. If each book weighed about twenty pounds -”

“Twenty pounds,” he snorted.

“Yeah, twenty pounds,” she insisted as she stared at him, and he looked away with a smile as he shook his head. “That’s eighty pounds total. If you’re going to make it up to me, well, you’re in serious debt right now. So, ice cream first and then we’ll see what else you can do to work off your payment.” He looked at her and she raised one eyebrow, smiling saucily.

He wondered if she would still be smiling if she could read his mind and see the sudden thoughts running wild in there. Naked thoughts, of his fingers trailing across her soft skin as she moaned into his mouth, her tongue wrapped around his.

“Mulder?” she said, a curious look on her face. He cleared his throat and turned on the car, backed up, and put it in drive.

“Ice cream first,” he agreed, hoping the cold treat would lower his temperature. But then she arched her back, sticking out her chest as she adjusted her position. He could picture his face between her breasts as his hands mapped out terrain he never wanted to leave.

Blood, the smell of the sewer, pustules, he thought, turning out of the parking garage and heading to the nearby ice cream shop, trying to calm his racing pulse.

___________________

“I won’t be able to finish all of this, Mulder,” she said, looking at her ice cream skeptically. “No chance. So it looks like your debt still holds.” Lifting her spoon to her mouth, she gave him a look as she took a dainty bite.

“Whatever you don’t eat, I’ll finish, so we’re square,” he said with a wink. She widened her eyes in response, looking at her bowl full of ice cream and then his, shaking her as she did. “You don’t think I can?”

“I don’t think you should,” she said, shaking her head. “You’ll get a stomach ache for sure.”

“Well, then I guess you better eat up,” he said, gesturing with his chin for her to get back to her treat. She sighed and took another bite, bigger than the last. He nodded at her and suddenly she reached up and ran her thumb across his lips. He froze at the feel of her warm fingers on his cool mouth and he stared at her as she looked at his lips.

“You’ve got hot fudge just there,” she told him as she wiped at it and then stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking off the chocolate, humming as she did. His brain short circuited and he forgot to breathe, letting out a large puff of air when he did remember to do so. She looked at him strangely, but said nothing.

Flukemen, Frohike shirtless, aliens ripping themselves from inside a person's body, he repeated over and over in his mind as he felt his jeans tighten, thoughts of that chocolate sauce being used in different ways firing into his synapses. Scully continued to eat her ice cream, oblivious to any of his discomfort.

When he was sure he could function normally, he began to eat his ice cream, the hot fudge cooled and thicker than it had been at first bite. He ate it all, even lifting the bowl and drinking the melted bit at the bottom, much to Scully’s horror. He set the bowl down and wiped his mouth on a napkin.

He glanced at Scully’s bowl and raised his eyebrows. “Do you need me to finish that for you or …” She shook her head and ate the last couple of bites. “Aww, Scully, see? I knew you could do it.” He winked at her again and she rubbed her stomach, grimacing as she did.

“When this inevitably begins to make my stomach hurt, you’re going to hear about it,” she told him, standing up and wiping off her hand. She picked up their trash and disposed of it, walking back to their table.

He stood up and stretched, rubbing his stomach, and grabbed his jacket. They walked outside and he let her lead the way to their next adventure.

They found themselves in a park with an open air art festival and she smiled at Mulder as she raised her eyebrows. He shrugged and they continued inside. Music and food was available as well, but the scent of meat and spices made his stomach turn.

“Best not tell Scully,” he muttered under his breath. She had stopped a few feet from him watching a play some children were performing about the importance of spring.

They were singing and dancing, dressed as flowers and bees. Mulder had no idea what they were saying, his eyes only on Scully. She was smiling and laughing at the antics of the children and suddenly he saw her bleeding to death on his living room floor, the choking stench of blood overpowering. He shook his head and blinked his eyes as she awwwed at something one of the little flowers did on stage.

She’s right there. She’s not bleeding out. Touch her and see, he told himself firmly. Reaching for her elbow, he sighed when it was solid and she smiled at him in question. He shook his head and looked at the children, keeping his fingers on her elbow, needing to keep a hold on her to know for certain.

Applause rang out and he moved his hand to clap along with the crowd. She motioned for them to continue to the art and he nodded. Many different booths were set up, along with portable walls, the art hanging from them.

Children, animals, fruit, sunsets, beach scenes, and many others were depicted in drawings, paintings, and even small sculptures. Scully’s smile was ever present as she looked at everything, but one in particular he noticed she kept returning to and he stopped to watch her look at it.

It was a smallish sized painting of a house, nothing special about it, but a house that seemed to draw her eye. The sky was the golden hour of sunset when the air seemed to shine and make everything beautiful; beachgrass bent over in front of the house, as though the wind was pushing it. A rocking chair sat on the porch, a colorful quilt hanging on the back.

“It’s peaceful, isn’t it?” Scully asked quietly. “It’s like a place where nothing bad could happen. Everyone is probably down at the beach, packing up from their day out in the warm air. The kids are tired and brown from the sun, their hair tousled, feet covered in sand. The adults are wrestling and cursing all the extremely important items they brought with them.” She sighed and smiled softly, staring at the painting.

Mulder could picture everything she described. The voices calling to one another as they walked the path to the house, tired, but the memories of the day sealed in their minds. They would not remember the exhaustion later, only the fun, and the way the sun bounced off the water.

“But what we don’t see,” he added softly, “their grandmother, who doesn’t get around as well as she used to, just left that rocking chair to check on the meal she’s been preparing. A delicious garden salad, fried chicken, and an apple pie for dessert.” She turned to him with a smile and he shrugged. “I mean, why not?” He smiled at her and she nodded, her arm looping through his, to his surprise.

“Mulder, you truly do keep unfolding like a flower,” she teased, and he chuckled softly with a nod.

They kept on, looking at the paintings, separating as they found different things that drew their eye. When they reached the end of the festival, she motioned for them to keep walking and he nodded.

“See, Mulder?” Scully said, taking off her blazer and folding it over her arm. “Isn’t this better than being in that stuffy basement office?” He shrugged and she hit his arm with a shake of her head.

“It’s nice I suppose, not very …”

“Alien?” she joked, and he shrugged again. “Mulder, not everything has to be an anomaly or unexplainable. Can’t you just enjoy a gorgeous spring day?”

“I am,” he said defensively, and she laughed. He extended his arm and she took it again as they walked through the park.

People walked past, children laughing as people picnicked on the grass and on nearby benches. Spying an empty one, she steered them toward the bench and they lay their jackets across the back before they sat down.

“Life is meant to be lived, Mulder, not only read about in a book. No matter how interesting the box scores may be.” She smiled and he leaned back, crossing his arms with his eyebrows raised.

“I never said I wouldn’t enjoy being outside, Scully, just that it tended to lack a certain … paranormal bouquet,” he said, his eyes on hers.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, smiling at him as she leaned back, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

The warm wind whipped quickly and her hair blew into her face. He reached out before she had a chance and moved it, tucking it behind her ear. Her eyes opened as he did and she stared at him, her expression unreadable. Clearing his throat, he moved his hand and leaned back, his hands in his lap. Her eyes closed again and he watched her relaxing in the warm afternoon sun.

“What do you say to getting some dinner later?” she asked a little while later, both of them companionably silent. Looking at him, she smiled and he nodded. “I’d like to change first though, as being in a work suit is not my favorite thing to wear on a Saturday,” she said, rising from the bench and giving him a look.

“No one said you had to wear a suit,” he told her, standing up with her, grabbing both of their jackets. Giving him another look, he nodded, knowing that not appearing professional would not fly with her. “Okay, we’ll head back and, sure, dinner sounds good.”

Dropping her back at her car, she smiled as she drove away. He decided to go back inside and put away the books they had taken out. No reason to leave them out and hear her complaints about them come Monday.

He smiled as he began to stack the books, grimacing at the ice cream spots on the pages, hoping they would not get called out on them.

“Well, not ice cream,” he laughed, reaching to check the pages when he saw a picture that stopped him in his tracks. “Is that Arthur Dales?” Looking closer, he saw that it was. His head snapped up and made sure no one was around before he ripped the page from the book.

He grabbed his jacket and put the page in his pocket. The books were left on the desk as he walked out the door, Scully’s gasp at him defacing government property almost audible in the empty office. Closing and locking the door, he headed to Arthur’s place, the dinner plans with Scully completely forgotten.

_____________

Hours later, the story Arthur told him still filling him with bittersweet feelings, he stood in the ball field, the shirt from Arthur worn proudly on his back. The machine he rented was set up and Poorboy stood ready to pitch them out for him, a big smile on his face.

“Ten bucks an hour, Mister,” he reminded Mulder as he started to walk toward home plate.

“Sheesh kid, I know. You ain’t cheap,” he said, shaking his head and looking back at Poorboy, who grinned wider.

Walking on, he glanced around but did not see Scully. He had called her, leaving a message with her answering service. He hoped she would get it and decide to come and meet him. After that story, he wanted to share something he loved with her, as she had done with him today.

He knew Scully enjoyed nice things. Her apartment was beautifully decorated and comfortable. She liked art museums and old books, but he was not sure if she had ever hit a baseball just for the fun of it. If she had ever experienced the feeling of contact with the ball as it sailed far into the outfield.

Tonight, he was hoping to share that with her.

“All right, Poorboy,” Mulder called out, his toes digging at home plate, taking a few practice swings. “I’m ready.” A ball was placed in the machine and it shot out, flying quickly toward him. He swung and missed, digging at home plate again.

More balls flew his way and he hit and missed them equally, not caring if he did or not. He found that all he zeroed in on was the anticipation of the ball and the feeling of impact when he hit it with the bat. The sound of it was like beautiful music and he got lost in the melody, thoughts of anything else far from his mind.

“So, uh... I get this message marked "urgent" on my answering service from one Fox Mantle, telling me to come down to the park for a very special, very early or very late birthday present. And, Mulder... I don't see any nicely wrapped presents lying around, so what gives?” He heard Scully saying behind him and he smiled, happy she decided to meet him.

“You've never hit a baseball, have you, Scully?” he asked her, hitting another ball.

“No, I guess I have, uh... found more necessary things to do with my time than... slap a piece of horsehide with a stick,” she said rather condescendingly as he hit a foul ball.

“Get over here, Scully,” he said, turning to look at her over his shoulder. She uncrossed her arms and pushed from the backstop, walking toward him as he held the bat out for her. He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her tightly, holding the bat with her as she took it from him.

“This my birthday present, Mulder?” she asked him warily. “You shouldn't have.”

“This ain't cheap. I'm paying that kid ten bucks an hour to shag balls,” he said, close to her ear, gesturing to Poorboy.

“Hey, it's not a bad piece of ash, huh?” he teased, and Scully turned to give him a look, one he knew too well. “The bat- talking about the bat.” She turned back slightly and he smiled.

“Now, don't strangle it. You just want to shake hands with it. "Hello, Mr. Bat. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." "Oh, no, no, Ms. Scully. The pleasure's all mine." She laughed his name and he was thrilled by it.

“Okay, now, we want to... we want to go hips before hands, okay?” he said, moving his hand close to her hip, but careful not to touch her. “We want to stride forward and turn. That's all we're thinking about. So, we go hips... before hands, all right?” This time he did touch her hip lightly with his hand, while using his own hips to turn her body the right way.

“Okay,” she agreed.

“One more time,” he said, wanting to see if he could actually get away with being so bold. He touched her hip with more pressure and he would swear on a stack of bibles that he heard her gasp. “Hips... before hands, all right?” Her gasp ringing in his ears and causing his heart to race.

“Yeah,” she agreed again.

“What is it?” he asked, wanting to hear her say it.

“Hips before hands,” she said, and it settled in his memory.

“Right,” he said, very close to her ear. “We're going to wait on the pitch. We're going to keep our eye on the ball. Then, we're just going to make contact. We're not going to think. We're just going to let it fly, Scully, okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded.

“Ready?”

He tried to readjust their grip on the bat, moving his hands down to how they should be, while also messing around with her. Both of them struggling for the space and he grinned.

“I'm in the middle,” Scully said, and he did it a bit more, loving the feeling of not being them for a moment, but silly and free. She got her hands back between his and he could hear her smile and laugh

“All right, fire away, Poorboy,” he called out and a ball flew their way as they swung at it together. They made contact but it was definitely a foul.

“Ooh! That's good,” he said, hearing her laugh. “All right, what you may find is you concentrate on hitting that little ball... the rest of the world just fades away, all your everyday, nagging concerns-” Scully giggled as they got ready to hit another ball.

“The ticking of your biological clock,” he said, as they landed another hit.

“How you probably couldn't afford that nice, new suede coat on a G-Woman's salary,” he said, letting her know he had noticed her new coat, saying without words that it looked nice on her. Another crack of the bat and he felt that happiness he had earlier, but doubled now that she was there with him.

“How you threw away a promising career in medicine…” he all but whispered into her ear. “To hunt aliens with a crackpot, albeit brilliant, partner.” She turned her head and gave him another patented Scully look.

“Getting into the heart of a global conspiracy. Your obscenely overdue triple-X bill. Oh, I... I'm sorry, Scully. Those last two problems are mine, not yours,” he said, keeping it light as they hit another ball.

“Shut up, Mulder,” she said and he could hear the smile in her voice. “I'm playing baseball.” Another swing and she laughed as they hit the ball. Over and over, they did it, her laughter ringing out in the night air.

His love for baseball had been a part of him most of his life. Now he shared it with her, literally sharing a bat between them as they hit the balls into the middle of the field. He made to step back, giving her a turn on her own, but she gave him another look, and his grip tightened on the bat once again.

So much had happened recently, their lives flipped upside down, but she was there with him, laughing and enjoying herself. The feel of her in his arms made him happier than he had been in a very long time.

When the last ball had been hit and Poorboy put up his empty hands, they laughed as they dropped the bat and stepped apart. She pushed her hair out of her face, wearing a huge smile, as she turned to look at Mulder and then out to Poorboy, who was running around collecting the baseballs.

“We should help him, Mulder,” she said softly, her smile still in place. “He’s a child and that’s a lot of balls.” He grinned at her and she gave him a teasing look as she walked away, her hips swinging more than usual.

Hips before hands indeed, he thought, his eyes unable to look away until she squatted down to pick up a ball.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head as he started to walk out and gather up the balls.

Back and forth they walked, depositing the balls into the basket. Once it was full, Mulder took out his wallet and handed Poorboy a twenty dollar bill. He looked at it and grinned, taking off at a run. Mulder picked up the basket and pushed the machine toward the backstop.

As they walked to home plate, Scully picked up the bat, smiling at Mulder as she did. They dropped off the machine and the basket of balls at the park office. Walking away, he took the bat from Scully and put his hand out, hoping she would take it. When she did, he smiled and locked their fingers together, his heart pounding.

They arrived at their cars and he let go of her hand to put the bat in the backseat. Turning back around, he crossed his arms and stared at her. She smiled, the one he loved most: all her teeth showing before she licked her lips. Once again, he groaned internally, imagining how they would taste.

Stepping forward, she put her hand on his arm. “Thank you for my present, Mulder,” she whispered. He nodded and stared into her eyes. She smiled again, pushing on his arms, bringing him closer to her height, her lips on his before he had a chance to think.

She stepped back and he leaned toward her, dropping his arms and stared at her. He cupped her face, leaning close to kiss her again, her hands coming up to hold onto his forearms.

Her lips were so soft, their kiss sweet, until she opened her mouth and her tongue licked his lips. He opened his mouth immediately, kissing her deeper, allowing her tongue access to explore. His hands moved to the back of her head and her waist, pulling her closer. She melted into him, holding his shirt as she fell flush against him.

Pulling back for air, she stumbled backward, and with the tight grip on his shirt, she pulled him with her, crashing into the side of her car. He kissed her again, her hands going around his back, holding him close as their tongues learned each other.

“Ohhh …” she breathed when he pulled back, staring at her as his lungs burned with the need for oxygen. “We need… we need to go. We should…” She pushed him from her and nervously smoothed her hair and clothes. “I should go. We…”

She licked her lips and he felt his jeans tighten, no longer wondering how her lips tasted. Peppermint. She tasted of the peppermint tea she drank and he ached for another taste.

“I should go,” she said, and stepped past him, fumbling with her keys.

“Scully, wait. Just…” he pleaded and she looked at him and then around the ballpark.

“We need to go. We, as in both of us,” she said forcefully. “Together.” She smiled and he realized what she was implying. “My place is closer,” she said as she got in the car. Backing up, she nodded with that same big smile, and drove away.

“Holyyyyyy shiiiiiiit,” he breathed. Standing frozen for what felt like an eternity, he took his keys from his pocket, dropped them with a curse, and picked them up again. He drove away, tires screeching as he did, seatbelt unsecured, a smile plastered on his face as he followed her home.

______________

Arriving at her place, she opened the door and, less than a second later, he had her pressed against the closing door; her arms around his neck and his tongue in her mouth.

Peppermint.

She pushed him forward, taking off her jacket when she had the space. It dropped to the floor and she reached for her top, pulling it over her head and dropping it onto the floor. He shook his head at her light pink bra that did nothing to hide her hard nipples.

She reached around to take it off and it dropped to the floor and so did he, on his knees before the goddess Dana Scully, his face pressing into her stomach, his arms around her, sitting under her ass.

“Scully,” he murmured, peppering her stomach with kisses. Looking up, he saw her looking down at him, her chest rising and falling.

“Mulder,” she whispered, arousal but also worry in her eyes. He quickly rose off his knees and kissed her, hoping to waylay any fears.

“Bedroom,” she whispered against his mouth, and grabbed the front of his shirt, bringing him along.

Once in her room, it was as though they had danced this dance thousands of time. They fumbled a bit, shoes and socks providing a giggling problem, and buttons sticking as they tried to hurry to get them open.

But when they came together, flesh to flesh, it was perfect. He leaned over her, kissing her, her tongue sweeter than anything he had ever tasted. Her skin was soft and hot under his fingers, trembling as he touched places that made her moan. He kissed her chest, his mouth worshipping her breasts, paying special attention to the rosy pink nipples begging for his tongue and teeth.

Her stomach jumped as he licked at her abdomen, the muscles clenching beneath his mouth. He felt her fingers gripping his hair and he grinned, knowing she knew where he was headed, the scent of her arousal intoxicating him.

“Mulder,” she gasped as he kissed her pubis, the hair sparse. “Oh, yes, Mulder.” She opened her legs wider, her heels on his back as he licked her and she moaned and gripped his hair tighter. “Please…”

That was the last word he heard her say as he set to work doing just that, pleasing her. Kissing, licking, sucking, he took his cues from her. The way she held his hair, arched into his mouth, and how her legs trembled. He paid attention to it all, learning the way she liked to be loved, the taste of her beyond exquisite.

“Mulderrrrrr!” she cried, holding his hair tightly, her legs closing around him as she came. “Ohhhhh…” He stayed where he was, softly kissing, until she relaxed around him.

When he felt her grip loosen, he kissed her inner thigh, finding a freckle there that he wanted to kiss forever. Following a path up, he kissed her hip bones, belly button, the rosy pink nipples, her neck, and finally her lips.

Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer to her, her fingers digging into his arms as he kissed her. He positioned himself at her entrance and pulled back to watch her face as he slid inside of her.

“Oh God, Mulder,” she breathed, and he echoed her words. “Oh… my God…” she said again, staring at him until her eyes rolled back, her legs pulling him even closer to her.

“Scully… ohhh,” He pulled out and slid back in, the feel of her all around him, enveloping him just as her body was doing.

She clawed at him, his name tumbling from her lips, her body arching into him. He fell forward, his face at her neck, her breasts pressed into his chest as he went faster, unable to take it slow, the feeling too amazing.

“Scully, Jesus, you feel so good,” he moaned and she cried out his name.

“Oh, Christ,” she moaned out in a low voice, the pitch escalating as her hips met his thrusts, crying out his name over and over, their pace hurried as they chased something they had been after for years, the goal finally in sight. He kissed her neck as her cries grew louder, and they crashed over the edge together.

“Ohhhhh Mulder,” she breathed, her chest rising and falling, arms and legs holding him close, their bodies still rocking slowly. “Mmmmmm, my God …” Her hands ran up and down his back, her nails scratching lightly.

“Scully, oh, Scully,” he said, pushing up and looking down at her. Her hair spilled across her pillow, sweat beading upon her forehead. She smiled at him, her hands reaching for his face, pushing his hair back.

“Mulder,” she whispered and he kissed her, rolling them to their sides, keeping them connected. She pulled back and stared at him, her hand on his face once again.

“Hi,” she whispered, grinning at him as she stroked his face.

“Hi,” he answered with a matching grin, his hand on her hip. Shaking his head, he opened his mouth and closed it, words failing him.

“I know,” she whispered with a nod and a shake of her head, causing him to laugh softly. “For the record, while I had fun tonight, this kind of present is one I enjoy much more. I even got to unwrap it.” He laughed again and moved a little, shifting their bodies. “Mulder…” She stared at him and he nodded.

“I know,” he echoed her words, the humor out of her eyes, the realization of what they had done showing on her face. “Scully, stop those thoughts.” He pushed her hair back and stared at her, shaking his head. “Don’t think right now.”

“Okay,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him, and move closer. “That was… oh, Mulder.” She nuzzled into his neck and he felt her shake her head.

“A home run?” he teased, hoping to halt whatever she might be thinking. She pulled back and looked at him, a huge grin on her face and then she was laughing, her head falling to his neck.

“Yeah, I’d say it was. And a single as well,” she said, looking at him again. He wiggled his eyebrows and she laughed, shaking her head. Sighing, she snuggled into him again and they were quiet, both thinking about what just happened.

“Scully,” he began, and she stopped him.

“Mulder, let’s just…” she said and he nodded, quiet as he held her, his fingers running softly across her back.

They must have dozed, as he woke some time later on his back, her head on his shoulder. He looked down at her and smiled, not wanting to wake her just yet. He got up carefully to use the bathroom, moving quietly around the room.

Standing in her doorway watching her sleep, he felt worried. Now that daylight would be breaking soon, what if she told him this was a mistake? What if she regretted this evening and wanted to go back to how things were, forgetting this ever happened? He shook his head and quietly collected his clothes, getting dressed quickly, needing time to think.

Driving away, he knew he was being a goddamn coward, but that had been a huge step and the repercussions could be astronomical. He was scared, he would admit that, but only in the confines of his car.

“Jesus Christ, man. Go back,” he muttered, but could not make his body listen.

Stopped at a red light, he hit the steering wheel, angry at himself. Looking around, he saw a bakery opening and made a quick decision. Picking up a half a dozen bagels and a container of cream cheese, he drove back to her apartment, quietly letting himself in with his key.

The cream cheese in the fridge, he set the bagels on the counter. Looking in on her once more, he knew this was the right decision. They needed space to think separately and come to terms with tonight.

Locking the door behind him, he hummed on the way to the car. He knew her, really knew her, and he would give her what she needed.

Well, more so than I did tonight, he thought, the memory of the taste of her kiss, her skin, of her making him grin. Shaking his head, he got in the car, driving home to use the computer and see if he could find the artist of the painting they saw earlier today. He had a new take on the story and he wanted to find it so he could share it with her.

The people in that house were not coming back from a day at the beach. No, they were already home. Lying in bed, sated and happy, the basket of baseballs spilled next to the bat that had been dropped on the floor in their haste to get to the bedroom. Grinning at the thought, he sped up, wanting to get home faster, needing something to occupy his mind.

He knew once she had the painting and heard the updated version of the story, she would accept it with a knowing smile.

Yeah, he thought with a smile and a nod, his foot pressing harder on the gas, this is a home run of an idea..

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #The Unnatural #A slight AU turn in the road #I could see this happening #Day out together #Ice Cream #First Kiss #First Time #Sexy Sexy Times

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clockworkouroboros · 4 years

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hey this must seem like a really slime brain question, but how do you start/where do you start/where can you start reading the edas? i’ve been meaning to ask someone for a while you just seemed the least threatening

Not slime brain at all! Tbh you must have read my mind, anon, because I was just thinking about putting together a bit of a guide to the EDAs recently. I’m super excited about anyone reading these books because I do so love them, so I definitely was excited to get this ask!

As to the “where” of reading the EDAs, I’m not going to share a link to download PDFs in a post like this, but I am definitely willing to share such a link privately. While some of the books are definitely worth buying physical copies (in my opinion), it gets expensive. I mean, there are over 70 books in the series. (Especially with a lot of the really good books; I spent something like $50USD to get Interference Books I and II.) I think literally anyone on this website who talks about the EDAs has a link to PDFs, so asking literally anyone would be a safe bet. The rest of this post is going to be under a cut, because this is gonna get lengthy.

So. Reading the EDAs. There are a few questions to keep in mind: are you a completionist? Are you interested only in specific companions or specific story arcs? Do you just really want to see why everyone is talking about this Fitz dude and why he’s so in love with the Doctor? Do you just want to know which books aren’t really worth your time? Do you just want pretty Paul McGann? (which is totally valid, by the way.)

So, uh. I’m just going to go through the EDAs and make notes, which is why this is gonna get long real quick.

The Eight Doctors: I know it’s the first book in the series, but it’s more than okay to skip it. There’s basically no plot, it’s weirdly sexist, and although it introduces a companion, it fails to actually, y’know, introduce her as a character very well.

Vampire Science: Yes! Good book! Properly introduces Sam, the companion. Has a lot of things, including Eight with kittens, Eight baby-talking to bats, butterflies!, and great characters.

The Bodysnatchers: Not...that...great. If you’re a huge Litefoot stan, go for it. Otherwise, feel free to skip.

Genocide: Would recommend. The beginning of some good character development for Sam, a fairly short book, and again, interesting characters.

War of the Daleks: Well. Uh. Imagine Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS, but boring. And there’s a sleazy guy who tries to hit on the Doctor’s underage companion. And Daleks. If that’s your cup of tea, go for it.

Alien Bodies: First of all, this is a great book. Fantastic. Showing just how good experimental Doctor Who can be. It’s also the start of a very big arc that doesn’t fully resolve until The Ancestor Cell. Would recommend, and if you’re interested in the War in Heaven/Faction Paradox arc, this is your starting point! I have a physical copy of this one.

Kursaal: Unpopular opinion, but I enjoyed Kursaal. It’s not objectively great, but it’s fun. Featuring pretty Paul McGann, insulting people in Latin, and truly impressive displays of gardening. And, uh, gore. There’s some nasty gore. Not important in terms of arcs, so feel free to skip.

Option Lock: Listen, I love Justin Richards as much as the next person, but this book isn’t that great, nor is it all that important in the grand scheme of things. Not terrible, but probably not your time if you just want the highlights.

Longest Day: Okay, uh, I kind of detest this book, but it’s also the beginning of a mini arc that goes through Seeing I. All you need to know is the Doctor and Sam get separated. I wouldn’t really recommend.

Legacy of the Daleks: Not worth it.

Dreamstone Moon: A good read! One of those solid but not spectacular stories. Just good Doctor Who.

Seeing I: definitely would recommend. Featuring some much-needed Sam character development and an important thing for Eight (*cries*) that will come back in a bunch of other novels. Also refers back to some of the events of Alien Bodies. I have a physical copy of this one.

You can skip both Placebo Effect and Vanderdeken’s Children.

The Scarlet Empress: Yessss, it’s really good. Standalone and a mix of sci-fi and fantasy, plus it introduces Iris Wildthyme, who is amazing and I love her. I have a physical copy of this one.

The Janus Conjunction: Unpopular opinion, but I liked it. It’s not amazing or anything, but it’s solid sci-fi pulp. Featuring pretty Eight. And a lot of gore. It’s by Trevor Baxendale. He kind of specializes in great descriptions and lots of gore.

Beltempest: If you’re into experimental Doctor Who, try this. If not, it’s not arc-important to anything, and it’s really, really weird, so feel free to skip it. I like it, though.

The Face-Eater: Kind of gross. Not that memorable.

The Taint: This book isn’t objectively good, but it introduces a new companion, and that new companion is Fitz Kreiner, so I still have to recommend it. I just love Fitz so much. What a loser.

Demontage: A good story, and another good look at Fitz as a character! Standalone.

Revolution Man: Very important Fitz character development. And a good story. I have a physical copy of this one.

Dominion: There’s one scene that’s kind of gross, but beyond that, I believe it’s important for Sam. And it isn’t a terrible book, either.

Unnatural History: Yes. Yes yes yes. This is one of my all-time favorite Doctor Who stories. It’s important to the arc begun in Alien Bodies, so you’ll want that and Seeing I as prior reading. It’s. So good. I have a physical copy of this one.

Autumn Mist: Autumn Mist isn’t bad, but I’d say it’s skippable. Addresses some of the hanging threads in Unnatural History.

Interference (Books I and II): So uh. Interference comes in two books, both written by the same person. The story is fantastic. There’s a lot of torture, especially in the first book. Sam leaves. Fitz, uh, has some important character things. It introduces Compassion, a new companion. Resolves some of the arc begun in Alien Bodies and expands on it. I have physical copies of both books.

Most of Compassion’s novels are really good. I would feel awful about telling someone to skip The Blue Angel, The Taking of Planet 5, Frontier Worlds, Parallel 59, The Shadows of Avalon, The Fall of Yquatine, and Coldheart. Of that whole group, I’d say Parallel 59 is the most skippable? Maybe?? But the long and short of it is that all these books are really good. The Taking of Planet 5, The Shadows of Avalon, and The Fall of Yquatine are all important to the War in Heaven arc.

The Space Age and The Banquo Legacy are skippable. I know a lot of people who like the latter, though so maybe give it a try! I personally didn’t like it, but that’s only my opinion, which is very subjective!

The Ancestor Cell: Uh. Resolves the story arc that’s been going on since Alien Bodies. So if you’ve been following that arc, yeah, it’s important. Do I like the book? Well, that’s a different question. I like parts of it. It also has a few very big very important Spoiler-y things that are important to the rest of the series.

The next five books are all part of a new arc, usually called the Earth arc. The Doctor (SPOILERS, but it’s Eight, so is it really?) has amnesia, and he’s stuck on Earth. I’d say four of the five books aren’t really bad, but some are more worth reading than others. They’re all interesting in that they examine an amnesiac Doctor really well.

The Burning: skippable. I don’t remember most of the plot. I vaguely recall the Doctor being really, uh, violent? (Part of the whole amnesiac thing.)

Casualties of War: super gory. Not terrible, but not a favorite of mine. I have friends who enjoyed it, though!

The Turing Test: yes pleasereadityesit’ssogoodplease - uh. A great queer novel, actually? Featuring Eight and Alan Turing? Made me cry, but like, it’s good?? I still haven’t bought a physical copy but I’ve been meaning to.

Endgame: Terrance Dicks, who’s an old hand at Doctor Who and also wrote the first EDA, the one I said not to read? He wrote this. And it’s amazing. Pretty standard Doctor Who fare, with characters that Dicks created but only he ever used, but it’s real good. Real real good. I loved his characterization of amnesiac Eight.

Father Time: warning: I kind of hate this book. It’s in my three least-favorite EDAs. I have...a lot of issues with it. That being said, it’s apparently a fan favorite. A lot of people like Father Time, and that’s okay! It’s a highly rated EDA that I just so happen to detest! If you want to try it, go for it, just know that I personally wouldn’t recommend it.

Escape Velocity: This book ends the earth arc, brings back Fitz, and introduces the new companion, Anji. It’s also not that great of a book, but hey, it’s important because it gives a lot of background for Anji’s character that will be instrumental in her character development.

EarthWorld: a lot of these upcoming books are standalone, and a lot of them are pretty good. EarthWorld is no exception. Would recommend. Lots of great hijinks.

Vanishing Point: Not a bad book, not a favorite. I’m not recommending it, but I’m also not trying to dissuade anyone from reading it.

Eater of Wasps: Uh. As the title suggests, maybe don’t read the book if you have a bee/wasp/stinging insect phobia. No, I definitely don’t know this from personal experience. :)))))) Other than that, though, a good book.

The Year of Intelligent Tigers: Yes. 100%. Read this book. Please. You won’t regret it. Eight has a composer boyfriend named Karl, there are giant tigers, this kind of solidifies Eight/Fitz/Anji as a favorite TARDIS team for me.

I’d say that The Slow Empire and Dark Progeny are both skippable. Not that they’re bad, but they’re not on the same level as a lot of the other books being put out in the series at this time.

City of the Dead: so good. I don’t know if you’re an Eight audio fan, anon, but Lloyd Rose also wrote the audio Caerdroia, and she brings the same kind of humor to this novel. Gosh. It’s so good.

Grimm Reality: very dense, but enjoyable. It takes most people forever and a day to finish, though, just because there’s so much going on.

Adventuress of Henrietta Street: this is where the new arc begins. :) It won’t hurt you at all. :) If you’re interested in any of the Sabbath-related arcs, this is the starting point. :) There are various ending points for this arc, alternatively at Camera Obscura, Timeless, and Sometime Never.

Mad Dogs and Englishmen: ridiculous and good. If you just read Adventuress, you need a book like this. And it’s good, anyway. Talking poodles. From outer space. Standalone.

Hope: important character development for Anji!

Arachnophobia: A bit scary. Still would recommend. Standalone.

Trading Futures: it’s really telling how good the books are at this point that this is the weakest one in my opinion. I just have a chip on my shoulder about Lance Parkin EDAs, apparently. (He wrote Father Time, as well.) It’s not bad, but if there’s one in this whole sequence that I would consider skippable, it’s this one.

The Book of the Still: Yes. Please. Heck. The best description of Eight I’ve ever read, and there are a lot of good ones across the 74 or so books I’ve read featuring Eight. Also, if you’re a huge Eight/Fitz shipper, this is the book for you! I spent like $30USD on a physical copy it’s definitely worth every penny.

The Crooked World: Yes. Ridiculous and goofy and silly and also surprisingly deep. Try to imagine the Doctor and co. landing on a cartoon world, with cartoon physics. Now imagine that, but it’s got an interesting and heartfelt plot underneath the cartoon hijinks.

History 101: A good book, and important to the Sabbath arc started in Adventuress! Would rec.

Camera Obscura: Another Lloyd Rose book, one that kind of ends a large part of the Sabbath arc, and just really good. Heck. So good.

Time Zero: this one will rip your heart out in the first few pages and you’ll thank Justin Richards for it. Also begins a new arc, but of all the arcs you could read, I’d recommend this one the least. Each book after this through Timeless is part of this arc. It gets pretty depressing.

The Infinity Race: Not bad, not good. Take it or leave it.

The Domino Effect: Wouldn’t recommend. Seriously.

Reckless Engineering: Not...terrible. But depressing.

The Last Resort: Super confusing, very arc-heavy. Not that it’s bad, just that it’s not good.

Timeless: ends the arc started in Time Zero and has some good bits. Anji’s last EDA, so if you like her, I’d recommend it. Also introduces Trix, the new companion! (Sort of...)

Emotional Chemistry: If you like Fitz, read this book. There’s other plot, but a large part of it is Fitz character study. And I love it.

Sometime Never...: One of my favorite Justin Richards EDAs. Great character work. Fun story. Ends the Sabbath arc.

Halflife: If you ship Eight/Fitz, read this book. Otherwise, it’s not a bad book, but you could do better things with your time. I vaguely recall some Trix character development, but the Eight/Fitz is what really sticks with you.

The Tomorrow Windows: Douglas Adams Lite. Not as funny as Douglas Adams. Overall impression: meh.

The Sleep of Reason: Wouldn’t recommend. Trix is referred to as “the blonde bitch” 90% of the time, the Doctor and co don’t even make any appearances until nearly 100 pages in, and it’s just kind of disappointing. Martin Day, the author, has this weird fascination with mental institutions? Weird and kinda yikes.

The Deadstone Memorial: It’s Baxendale, so it’s gory. But it’s not bad! One of the better late EDAs, imo. And for the subject matter, it’s surprisingly wholesome.

To The Slaughter: Now this, this is what I’m talking about. One of my top Eight/Fitz/Trix stories, alongside Emotional Chemistry and Sometime Never. (And what the hell, Halflife. What can I say: I love Eight/Fitz.) It’s got some great Fitz characterization, I love Trix, and I love Eight. Really the half-a-brain-cell-at-best team. We stan.

The Gallifrey Chronicles: Nah. Don’t bother. Not really worth your time. Unless you want to read it and cry about the vore with me.

So there you have it! A ridiculously in-depth look at my EDAs recommendations! Uh. You can always start from the beginning, or you can go based on recommendations or what looks like it will suit your fancy, or you can pick an arc and read it through to the end. There’s really no perfect way to read them. Please, please dm me or something if you want a link to PDFs of the books, I’m happy to share it, and I hope you enjoy the EDAs!!

#asks #anon #edas #doctor who eu #eighth doctor #fitz kreiner #sam jones #compassion #anji kapoor #trix macmillan

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chronic-resus-needed · 4 years

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Going Home

Highschool romances rarely led to a lifetime partner, but that was the case for Hugo and Simon. Coming out to his conservative parents in high school wasn't easy for Hugo, but Simon was worth it and it was Simon and his family who took him after he own parents kicked him out. For the first time in four years Hugo was going to see his parents. He had been against it, but Simon was encouraging. He said Hugo deserved all the love in the world. So off the went. It was spring break, their last spring break before they finished college, so the two twenty-two year-olds decided to make a small road trip from their University in Chicago back to their hometown in Owensboro.

Hugo was nervous, he didn’t want to face a second rejection, but that wasn't why he kept stealing glances at Simon as he drove. Simon had been up half the night dealing with what seemed like the longest asthma attack in history. He had waved Hugo to bed each time he came out to check on his boyfriend who sat behind a nebulizer. Eventually they had both fallen asleep on the cheap futon in their tiny living room. Simon swore he was fine and up to the trip, but he still looked tired, his bright eyes duller than usual and when Hugo had awoken with his ear pressed to Simon's chest he could still hear a faint rattling with each breath. "What, do you want me to take over?" Simon joked as Hugo glanced over for the umpteenth time, "I'm fine. You're fine. This is going to be a good day." Hugo only mumbled under his breath making Simon laugh. He reached over from the passenger seat to rub Hugo's muscular back. "Everything is good."

They were almost two hours into their five our trip when Simon first coughed, there was nothing but endless highway before them. This was the dullest part of the drive. Simon reached behind into the back seat to grab his duffle bag, his chin length blond hair shielding his face as he did so. When he sat back up he brushed it behind his ears and began digging through the duffle bag. "You really should keep you rescue inhaler where you can find it," Hugo chided. Simon held up the yellow inhaler with a triumphant smirk, "I knew exactly where it was." Hugo shook his head, "Sure, under all the other crap you shoved in there because no one ever taught you how to pack."

"Don't make me laugh when I'm trying to breath," it was a joke, but his small chuckle did lead to coughing. Simon brought the yellow inhaler to his lips and took a deep lung filling breath of the medication. The affect was immediate and he felt his heart rate pick up from the albuterol. "See? Everything is fine." He leaned over and exhaled playfully into Hugo's face, "But I do need to pee." Hugo gently pushed Simon's face away, "You do realize we have like two hours of nothing ahead of us. I can pull over?" Simon scrunched up his nose, "If I get desperate." Hugo rolled his eyes, "You're such princess sometimes." The bickered good naturedly about Hugo's 'brutish' nature and Simon's 'princess qualities' for a bit.

Hugo was large, six foot three, broad chest, and a gym rat. In contrast, Simon was only five foot eleven. Like Hugo (because of Hugo dragging him to the gym), he was fit, but he lacked Hugo's bulk. Where Hugo was built, Simon was toned, slender. They fit perfectly together, complimented each other. Hugo was practical, organized, reliable. Simon was more care-free, spontaneous. Simon reached across the car to run his hand through Hugo's dark hair as they fell into silence.

Silence was unusual when Simon was around, but Hugo had a lot to think about. When he got like this words just weren't enough so Simon just reminded his boyfriend that he was there, that he wasn't alone. The silence also didn’t bother Simon today, his chest was still tight. He flicked on the radio to add some background noise.

The tightness didn’t go away and the inhaler was pulled back out. It was harder this time, hard to draw in a full breath, and the full dose of medication never made it through. He rubbed at his chest and coughed in an attempt to open his airways. Now Hugo looked away from the road, "Still?" Simon nodded, he was beginning to wheeze. "Might be," he paused to breath, "a problem."

Hugo may be anxious in nature, but he was good in a crisis. "Alright, hang on." With one hand still on the wheel he pulled out his phone and opened GoogleMaps. The nearest hospital was just under an hour away. He mad an illegal U-turn to switch sides on the highway, he would cut that time in half.

Ten minutes passed and the wheezing could be heard over the radio and Simon was beginning to sweat from the effort of sucking air into his swelling airways. He tried the inhaler again, bringing it to lips, but his breaths were too shallow for the medication to do its job. "Hugh" This was the point where Hugo knew his fear was valid. Simon was scared. "Hey," he reached over and grabbed Simon's hand, bringing it to his own chest. "Just breath with me," he took slow deep breath. Simon could feel as Hugo's chest expanded and contracted, so steady, so strong. He tried to match, he did, but couldn't. Although he was beginning to heave with effort his rate of respiration increased, becoming rapid and shallow. By twenty minutes Simon's shoulder's were hunched. He had a vicelike grip on Hugo's right hand, his free hand was at the collar of is shirt, the fingers curled around the fabric as if he dragged it downward as if exposing his neck would make breathing easier.

Thirty minutes and the color was gone from his face, his lips were taking on a bluish tint. His breaths had turned into strained painful gasps with pauses in-between as he tried and failed to draw in more air. All the while Hugo kept talking, his voice soothing and encouraging, "You're doing good, one breath at a time." Hugo glanced at his phone, they were still fifteen minutes away, the endless highway had turned into a town. His foot pressed heavily against the accelerator. "Simon," he looked at his boyfriend whose eyes were closed, "Simon!" He shook their joined hands and Simon's blue eyes opened, he sucked in a shallow breath. "Simon if you die in this car I swear to god I am breaking up with you." Simon smiled weakly, but couldn’t speak. Their wasn’t enough air to waste on words.

Thirty-eight minutes, they were so close. Horns honked as Hugo ran through a red light. Simon's wheezing as stopped, his eyes were half open, his head slumped against the passenger door window. The grip on Hugo's hand had gone slack. "Simon!" His chest was so still, so unnaturally still.

The next few minutes were the longest of Hugo's life, but as he pulled into the ambulance bay he couldn’t even recall how he had goten them there. All he could see was Simon, Simon not breathing, Simon dying right beside him. The palm of his handed pounded on the car horn as he pulled in to catch the attention of anyone, anyone could help. He didn’t even bother to turn off the car before he was out and opening Simon's door.

His boyfriend's lips were blue, his face grey, and his body was dead weight as Hugo scooped his smaller frames into his arms, carrying him bridal style inside. "He isn't breathing!" It was a small hospital, only a level four trauma center, but the staff reacted quickly. Simon was pulled from his arms and whisked away, they wouldn't let Hugo follow.

They took Simon's now lifeless form into a trauma room, Simon would have been shocked at the number of the people in the room. One person placed an IV, one began cutting off his clothes as a third hooked him to various monitors, a fourth had an ambu bag pressed against his face trying to force oxygen into lungs, but met resistance. "He's not moving any air," a fifth person began chest compressions as the EKG he was attached to showed asystole. With each compression on his slim frame his chest caved inward, his belly extended, again and again. "Push a round of epi and atropine." He was already at Simon's head ready to intubate, "He's swollen shut." The would have to trach him.

As compressions continued as betadine was spread across Simon's neck and the doctor then made an incision into his trachea. A clear tube was placed into the incision forcing his windpipe open and an ambu bag attached. They had bypassed his swollen airways to get precious oxygen into his lungs. With the trach established they began to breath for him, forcing air into his oxygen starved lungs. Now with his airway secured Simon's chest rose with each artificial breath.

Despite the fresh oxygen his heart remained still in his chest and a fresh set of arms took over compressions. When they paused for a pulse check there was no change, another round of drugs were pushed. It had been eleven minutes since he arrived. Seventeen since he had drawn his last breath. Another pulse check and the drugs had forced his heart into a shockable rhythm. Compressions resumed while the defibrillator charged. "Clear!"

In the hall Hugo was forced away from the trauma room. His car was still idling outside and security was forced to take his keys to move it when Hugo refused to leave the waiting area. How could he just wait? He needed to do something, needed to help. The only thing he could do was to call Simon's parents, to let them know, but doing that, it felt like a bad sign. He would call them after Simon was awake, when things were okay. Because they would be, Simon would be fine, Simon had to be fine because Hugo couldn’t live without him.

Back in the trauma room Simon's back arched as 200 joules shot through him, his toes scrunched and then unfurled as body fell back to the gurney with a soft thumb. V-Fib still showed on the monitors. "Clear!" A second shock and again the paddles pulled his chest into the air, lifting the base of his neck clear off the gurney as his whole body jolted. His left arm slipped off the gurney and banged against the side of the gurney as chest compressions were resumed. He had fallen out of V-fib into pulseless electrical activity.

There was tension in the air his team discussed their next steps. The doctor shone a light into his unseeing eyes, his pupils were reactive. Resuscitation efforts continued and another round of drugs were pushed. No changes were observed at the next pulse check and a fourth round of drugs as administered. His pale chest was bruised from their efforts and there a crunch with each compression. At least one rib was fractured if not broken but the nurse currently beating his heart between his sternum and his spine didn't let up her efforts. Finally, V-fib was restored and everyone stepped, but the doctor wielding the defibrillator backed away from Simon's prone body. The doctor pressed the paddles to his pale chest, "Clear!" No change. There a few beats of chest compressions as the machine charged as a fourth shock was delivered. The heart monitor showed a spike as the charge coursed through Simon, followed by another, and another as normal sinus rhythm was returned.

Once stable, Simon was left in a critical care room, hooked to a ventilator which continued to breath for him. Hugo wasn't permitted to see him until he was being transported to the ICU. Their reunion was brief. The site of his unconscious boyfriend lying so still and frail on the gurney, a respiratory therapist pumping an ambu bag to mechanically breath for him was frightening, but Hugo still leaned over and planted a kiss to Simon's forehead. "You scared the shit out of me," his hand found Simon's and gave it a squeeze that wasn’t returned. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

#resus #cpr #asthma

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leeknow-bestboy · 4 years

Text

If You Close One Eye - Chapter One

Ships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Yang Jeongin | I.N, If you really squint you can notice Lix is into Binnie, Hyunjin was into everyone once

Characters: All the kids, The ex kid isn't here I edited him out, Other Character Tags to Be Added

Trigger warnings: panic attack, ptsd, original character death, homophobia, original character cheating, descriptive imagery.

Word count: 5277

Chapter: 1/?

Next chapter

Tags: Murder Mystery, amateur detective minho, Soulmates, not your typical soulmate AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Slow Burn, Slow Build, good things take time let it slowburn, minho is singlehandedly responsible for the slow burn so blame him, no soulmates in this universe only they are, criminology student minho, art student jisung, POV Third Person, chan deserves better and he does indeed get better don't worry, art references please look stuff up, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, best sibling bond ever.

"If you close one eye, you can see what your soulmate sees"

Born with one eye an unnatural golden color, Minho and Jisung have been forced to cover them up with colored lenses in order to blend into society.

The magic to their eyes? Even they still didn't know.

This is the story of how criminology major and dance minor Lee Minho found himself hopelessly in love with the serial killer, local artist Han.

[Alternatively, let's see how long I can make these two dumbasses pine without one of them snapping. Edit: they finally did]

[Also WARNING: a HUGE amount of Jeongchan ahead, it's not subtle at all! So much fluff--]

As per usual, the playground was packed; children of all ages ran wild, squalling and laughing like the little menaces they were- all of them avoiding a short kid who couldn't be older than five, seated at the very end of the sandbox and holding back tears of offense and loneliness.

It's not that he got bullied, he wasn't. His mom raised a tough kid who'd bite back when he's bit, but no one would play with him now. Not with how he looks, they'd rather scream and run.

Five year olds shouldn't worry about that.

Rubbing his left eye- the good one, he could see a woman's shoulder and hair. Her smile, bright and comforting, wording out a song with no sound.

"Jisung!" His mother's voice rang aloud, recognizable and warm in the hostile environment.

"Baby," She called again, finding him and wrapping her son in her arms. For the moment, there was no strange woman- only his own mother.

Jisung sniffled. "I hate people." -These words that shouldn't be said by a child flowed so easily from his lips, as if it was the only reasonable conclusion.

"We need to talk about something" his mother's voice, once excited and lively sounded utterly defeated. Little did he know, it was the last time. Years of telling him he's perfect just the way he is, special and unique in a good way, definitely- have ended up making no difference in the end.

That day, he learned to put on contact lenses.

"I know you're upset about the divorce, but you have to accept that it happened."

The woman's voice, high pitched and unpleasant, drove Minho ever so slightly closer to the edge. By now he knew no adult in the world would ever take him seriously, so what was the point in sitting here and listening to her talk?

The woman pursed her lips, plump and telling of the many times they went under the scalpel. Tapping her foot, she hazily reminded Minho of his own mother when scolding was due.

"If you don't talk to me, that's fine. Nothing's going to change. I get paid by the hour you know, I can do this all day."

That being said, she was probably stressed- no therapist had ever gotten Minho to talk, he's been changing doctors since his hallucinations began, which adds to a little over three years now.

"Minho, I can't help you like this. Tell your mother I give up."

A sense of dread spread over the eight years old. Again, another adult doesn't get it. Another one giving up on him, leaving, and suddenly he wanted her to stay. Pretty badly he did, at the time.

"I don't care that my parents broke up, I've been seeing monsters all day"

The woman blinked, stunned into silence. At the tinge of tears he rubbed his right eye- and there it was, certain as ever; drawn with a sharpie, people with horns. In a moment, a pair of hands that weren't his took the drawing away and pulled out a new one, drawing harshly a sad smiley face.

Although he was a big boy, he cried right then, scared out of his mind and very confused. He cried so hard it almost slipped off- the contact lens hiding his mother's disgrace.

Looking up, the woman made no effort to comfort or dissolve his fright. Rather, she was scribbling down the whole ordeal. Taking notes, furiously assessing and picking him apart, she finished her analysis smugly and said,

"It's time we get you a prescription, my dear"

And that was definitely not the last of it.

"Oppa"

Minho groaned lowly, alerting the speaker to the fact he's been woken from sleep.

"Minho oppa!" the voice persisted. Fully intent on hanging up, Minho side glanced at the caller id to make sure it wasn't important.

"Motherfucker!" the voice on the other end rose. From the corner of the bed Doongie meowed, alarmed.

"Freaking shrimp, what do you think you're calling your oppa?" He blurted. This isn't a call he should skip.

"Egg laying bastard! Answer me when I call you!" His sister's comforting voice trickled out.

"Gremlin twarp!"

"ballerina!"

"Whiny child!"

"Prune old man!"

"spoiled princess!"

"Mean hoe!"

"-!" Wheeze.

"I got you, you horrible gay bitch"

"We're both gay, Ryu" He threw back.

It's been a while since she last called.

"Well, you live alone, so I assume you're doing much gayer things than I can do at home."

Minho started, failing to hold back his horrified gasp. "Ryujin, you're eighteen!" He exclaimed. It seemed like yesterday she was still following him around, like some baby duckling.

"She's being mean Doongie, like you three don't count." He added, Ryujin electing to ignore his comment.

"How's dance going?" her tone changed, turning softer. For all their differences, dance for sure has always been something both loved and loved together. From copying idols on TV, to taking ballet and hiphop together, Jazz too.

"I'm not in college for dance and you know it" He groaned, immediately softening as well.

"I miss it a lot. I wish I could do more than minor in it.." On the other side of the call Ryujin hummed, understanding. She has always known his passion best.

"You're good at what you do too. You'd make a kickass detective." She claimed.

"I'm not taking criminology to be a detective." Why she had to be reminded was beyond him. If anything he aimed to be an officer, someone to tell kids off if they mess with the neighborhood cats.

"I'm just saying you could be!" She defended- which wasn't wrong, if he played job openings right. He did have a knack for picking apart mystery books too, but that was nothing out of the usual.

"How's grad life?" He asked with genuine interest. Nothing could ever matter to him more.

"I asked Chelle out, finally." She said, and Minho couldn't help but notice the edge evident in her voice.

"What happened? Did she let you down? Should I come over?" The questions left his lips before he could consider them, worry clouding over him.

"No, it's nothing like that. She said yes, but.. Yeah, oppa, I really wish you were here. I need to talk to you, face to face. Mom misses you too." She ended lamely. It was so unlike her, Minho couldn't find it in him to correct the fact that it was only Ryu's mom and not his.

"Tell her I'll be visiting tonight then, I'll go get ready." He said, fully intent on making the sudden drive over. It was only a two hour ride over to his father's, where Ryujin and his step mother lived too. If he headed out now, he could make it before dinner.

"Really? You don't have to, I know you hate it here-" Her attempts of taking it back wouldn't work once he set his mind to do something.

"Really really. I miss my stinky troll sister too," He insisted. No way was he leaving her be. The moment something felt off with her, he knew he had to go make sure she's fine; there aren't many things as precious in his life as she is.

"Dumbass," she relented, voice worryingly relieved. "I'll go tell mom."

He smiled, tapping his nail on the headboard, now sitting up at his bed. "Bye"

She huffed, pausing for a moment before giving her last reply. "Goodbye, oppa. I love you."

Minho sighed, leaning his forehead against the steering wheel.

For what little time he spent at his father's place, a surprising amount of bad memories were made. Up until his teen years he wouldn't even enter, and every time after that made for a rich history; first panic attack, first time breaking a leg falling down the stairs, coming out, taking Ryu to junior prom- door shut in his face that time, claiming she was grounded for beating up the neighbor's son. First time stung by a bee, and that weekend when his father's doberman puppy bit him in play, tore open his front lip and got sent to a dog pound despite his protest.

'Come on,' he thought. 'You can do this. Count to three-' and at three he did, opened his car door and walked up through the front gate.

"Minho! How lovely to see you." Smiled his step mom, a warm, if not a tad unnerving woman.

"Nice to so see you too. How have you been?" He asked, clean-cut manners kicking in. Dal and Byul had meanwhile made their way running over to the door, immediately rubbing against him with some level of desperation. He leaned down, rubbing Dal's small head.

"I've been well, your father too- that's right! Honey, come say hi to Minho." The short, lean woman called, still blocking the entrance to the oversized house and keeping Minho at the door. Whether this was on purpose shall forever remain a mystery- she did it every time.

"That brat has nothing to do in this house" His father's voice warmed over.

"Hi dad." He tried still, calling over the woman's shoulder. "Can I come in?"

Said obstacle smiled, moving aside at last. "Of course sweetie, Ryujin will be right over."

Taking that exchange for what it was, he made fast pace towards the kitchen. Avoiding his father has become a praised skill by now, a crucial one by all means.

"Dallie, Byulie, psps" he tried, pleased when both ran on over towards his outstretched hand. Two more allies at the ready.

Light steps cleared the remaining discomfort sullying his mood in short moments. "You!" A pair of arms tightened around his shoulders, prompting Minho to lift his little sister in a piggyback.

"You too!" He answered, relieved at feeling welcomed at last.

"I can't believe you actually came. Did you tell your mother you're over?" She asked, tactless as ever. He loves her a whole lot for that, too.

"She's not the boss of me, I'm twenty one" He announced, eyes closed in a content smile as his sister gently pet his hair like a cat.

"What about me? I'm almost nineteen, I wish I was free like you, Lino!" Exclaimed Ryujin, but really she didn't. There was a certain freedom gained from nobody caring about you that no one should be jealous of.

Letting her hop back onto the ground, Minho kept the smile on his face. She seemed fine, but he could tell better. Still, they couldn't talk before dinner- the pots and pans at the stovetop smelled just about ready, after all.

Instead he turned to face her, petting her head lovingly like she had his. "What's this? This tiny Ryuddaeng's nineteen? No way."

"Almost!" she growled. "Next month I'll be."

"Where have the times gone?" he questioned, shoving her playfully at the comments of "old man".

Dinner went as uncomfortably as expected, his father and he had behaved remarkably well- hadn't spoken a word to each other throughout. Minho ate neatly, made sure to compliment his step mother for every dish, and Ryujin helped by washing them after. All in all, it was successful unlike many dinners before.

Making way to the guest bedroom, Minho paused at the sight of his sister's door left slightly open. Right, yes- this would be a good time.

Knocking quietly, he waited for permission before entering and closing the door, waiting for Byul to enter alongside him. "Are you alright?"

Ryujin nodded, glancing up at him and back to the floor. He took that as a sign to take a seat down on her fancy dragon themed carpet.

"Are you really alright? Ryujin, I know we're not great communicators, but I'm still very worried. Is it dad?" At that his sister shook her head, taking a deep breath.

"Don't get mad, but I have a huge favor. You know Chelle, I swore I'll ask her out when I graduate and I did, but she…" Minho crossed and uncrossed his legs, chin finding its place resting on a knee. Byul purred, rubbing against it.

"She's missing. She's been missing for two weeks now, no one knows where she is." She explained, voice stern.

"I don't think she ran away, but her parents keep saying she did. She said nothing to me." She added, hoping he'd fill in the rest on his own.

"They're not filling in for missing person?" He asked, worry making his back stress and ace.

Ryujin nodded. "I know she's the bad girl type, but she wasn't into drugs and her friends seem fine. I keep trying to ask around but I can't, what if something serious happened?"

Minho nodded, realizing where he comes in. "You want me to investigate? See where that takes us?" He asked. For sure, that should be the police's job- but with her parents saying she ran away, would they even bother?

Ryujin kept quiet, eyes burning holes into Minho's. This was her crush, a big one- he's never liked Chelle, but now? If Ryujin cares that much… sure. It's not something he should be messing with legally, and a new project to be added atop his ever growing college work, but he'd do it for her. "Okay."

"Okay?" Ryujin asked back, relieved.

"Yes. I'll do it." He assured.

Ryujin's features softened farther, mouth breaking into a smile. "You're my new favorite person."

Minho smiled lightly, mind running full speed. "I need details. When and where she was last seen, and about her; exes, Instagram, friends and hangouts."

Ryujin's smile faded. Nonetheless she turned, pulling a notebook out of her bedside drawer.

Scribbling away the details he requested, she paused to ask a couple questions before turning back to her chore. "I know less than I thought." She admitted.

"That's fine, but I have a few more. How was her mental state, where did she study, was she on meds and did she mention any places?"

This kept on for a few hours, ending after they let an annoyed Byul out of the room - with Ryujin tiredly announcing that her brain is fried and he can ask the rest over chat when he's back in college. On his end, Minho learned one important thing:

This girl was not who she seemed to be.

Back at his apartment, Minho re-read all eleven papers of info they've gathered. On the way he's prepared a list of places to visit, only two of which stemmed from the info Ryujin herself had given him. Other than the school and family bistro down the street, it seemed the two have never gone out together, although Chelle was one to do so.

Good, he thought.

Scrolling through her Instagram, he noted which followers seemed to comment more, and who would show most often on highlights. Her latest post have been boring- it was landscape art of what he assumed to be a tall grass field on the outskirts of seoul. Around three months back he found a picture of some guy at the beach, shirt off and abs in clear view. Seeing as he looked nothing like Chelle, it would seem they weren't related.

Sorting through the packed comment section, someone's request to take it down stood out. Tapping on the person's icon, he realized that was probably the guy in the picture, although the account was made private. An ex? That would make a good trail.

Not having an account himself, by now Minho has used Ryujin's, but to follow guys it would seem he needs his own account.

Setting up all the necessities, he took a nice picture of Dori and made it his profile, sending the guy a follow request right away.

Now we wait.

"Oppa, if you have no photos or description and no followers, and he doesn't know you, did you really expect he'd approve your request?" Ryujin's laughter trickled through the speakers, as if it's been obvious. "You're going to have to find him." She pointed, before hesitantly adding, "Or I can-"

"No." Minho said, stern. "This guy could be Chelle's ex, he might be really dangerous! You don't get to follow his Instagram."

Ryujin sighed, and Minho got the sudden mental image of her rubbing the bridge of her nose as she did. "You have friends right? Ask one of them." She advised.

"I need to go, dad said I can't go out unless I finish these applications." She explained, hanging up after a round of goodbyes.

Right. He did! He has friends.

Picking his phone back up, Minho scrolled his contacts looking for either Felix or Hyunjin. The two weren't in his major, but they shared a dance class. Out of the student body, they were closest to his definition of friends.

A couple rings went by before the line picked up. "Hyung? Hello!" Felix's cheerful voice calmed the older's nerves ever so slightly.

"Felix, hi." He answered, trying to seem casual. "How are you?"

Felix took a moment before responding. "I'm great! I'm actually out with Chan hyung, is something up?"

"Who?" Minho asked, confused.

Felix took another moment. "Bang Chan. He's a fourth year in sociology, I don't think you'll know him."

Minho came close to a sob right then. "Can you pass him the phone?"

"Yeah sure." Felix agreed immediately, followed by ruttling sounds.

"Hello?" A voice sounded, accent similar to Felix's own.

"Hi! My name is Minho, I followed you on Instagram a couple days ago."

A short silence. "Oh my god." Chan exclaimed.

"No, never mind that, I need to talk to you." He rephrased.

"I have no idea who you are." Chan replied, confused.

"It's about Chelle." Minho added, hoping to learn anything from the other's reply.

"Oh." Was all he got. "Okay, I guess we should meet sometime then. How is she?"

The question caught Minho off guard.

"I, I'll tell you more when we meet. When are you free?" he asked, quickly seeking out a pen and scribbling the time and date on his wrist, phone squeezed between his ear and shoulder.

"Yeah, sounds great! See you then." He concluded, getting passed back to Felix and thanking him profoundly before hanging up.

"In my own college." He muttered after the phone found its place back on the table.

"Unbelievable."

Not many people occupied the café, despite its convenient location not far off the olympic park. For that reason Minho concluded, the coffee there probably sucked.

It wasn't his intention to show fifteen minutes early, but his nerves got the best of him, taking shape in miserable pacing until he deemed it late enough to leave his apartment already. Worst case scenarios running through his mind, he wasn't expecting it as someone took seat in the chair opposite of his.

"Hello. It's Minho, right?" Asked the stranger, dimples forming in an awkward smile.

"Ah." Minho voiced dumbly before quickly picking himself up adding,

"You're Chan?"

In the short time that passed between first learning of Chan's existence and actually seeing him, Minho's mind managed to fill with expectations and fears, all of which shattered right in that moment.

First of all, the guy in the picture had very defined abs and arm muscles, making it seem as if he'd be your average muscle-head, someone who could pull apart limbs off boys like Minho- a description that apparently had nothing in common with the hesitant and awkward person in front of him. Rather, he found that this Chan was a tad shorter than him, barely filling the light gray sweater he threw on.

Secondly, while the photo showed a man with straight dark brown hair, the man in front of him had soft blond curls that seemed so, so fluffy- invoking a primal urge to pet them in, Minho assumed, not only himself, but also every innocent bystander.

Lastly, by the amount of english in his Instagram description, one would expect an obvious accent, but that had been proven false on the phone call anyway. Regardless, Minho imagined a foreigner, so seeing his face up close had been a surprise on its own, especially considering the smile… he was, how would he put it? Cute.

"Yeah! Nice to meet you. I was worrying I'd be early, but it's good to see you are too." Minho could only half process the words, a glance at his phone telling him they both still had around ten minutes before the planned meetup time.

"Right! Right, I wanted to talk to you." Minho started, forcibly clearing his mind of any strange thoughts.

"You said it was about Chelle? I assume you're her new boyfriend?" Chan asked, voice a bit strained.

"No, It's not like that. I wanted to know if you've heard from her for the last couple weeks." Minho replied, quick to correct him so to not make things needlessly awkward. Right, he thought- Chan still might have had something to do with this girl's disappearance.

"Oh, well, I actually hadn't, I try not to do that anymore. We didn't end things on good terms." Chan confessed, picking Minho's interest.

"What happened?" He asked, worries picking back up.

Chan paused. "Are you her friend? This kind of thing is a little personal, I don't want it to affect your friendship."

Minho blinked, thinking up a smaller scale storm. "I live in her neighborhood. We're not very close, but some things happened that made me look for you."

Chan hesitated, saved by the waiter's interruption asking which drinks the two would have. Still suspicious, Minho only ordered a small iced americano, Chan matching with a small iced tea.

"You probably know we dated for around two months, it ended after I found she was cheating for a long time."

Minho's breath hitched, dangerously close to choking on his coffee. "She cheated on you?"

Chan's expression fluttered before he nodded, sheepish smile back on. "Kind of pathetic, isn't it? I couldn't hold her attention. At least, the others didn't know."

Minho gaped, unsure how to handle the new information. Chelle, the girl Ryujin asked him to look for. Was that her true nature? "What do you mean others?"

Chan's embarrassment grew, yet he didn't look away. "We were around.. five, I think.. that I know of. I followed her for a bit."

The awkwardness settled, leaving both speechless.

"Okay, I'm really sorry but I still need to ask you a couple more things." Minho was the first to break the silence.

"Go ahead." Chan smiled in relief.

"Were you mad? Wait, no- Can you think of anyone who could have held a grudge against her? More than, I guess, this."

Chan shook his head. "She's a really nice girl! She has some serious issues, but I liked her a lot at the time."

Minho bit his lip, ready to push on. "Chan, I'm going to be honest with you.. Chelle's been missing for over two weeks now."

If Chan was drinking at the moment, it would have been his turn to choke. "What?" he asked, voice steady.

"I got in touch with you because right now, nobody knows where she is. Or someone does know, but I don't" Minho explained, hoping his message went through alright.

"Are you sure she's not ghosting you? She might be." Chan offered. Minho stiffened. If Chelle was fine, if she was ghosting his sister- there will be hell to pay.

"I don't think so?" he continued anyway.

"I can't remember a specific person who would want to hurt her, but.. God, I'm worried. Chelle's gone? Like, kidnapped or.." Chan paused, taking deep breaths.

"If you have any information on where she could be, it would help a lot. I don't know her well, I'm not sure who else to ask either." Minho added.

"What do you want to know?" Chan asked, worry clouding his face in an unpleasant way. Minho almost felt, scratch that- he did feel really bad for the guy.

"Hangouts, friends, habits, names of other exes- mental state too, it's a little invasive but I can't find her otherwise." Chan stared, eye contact with Minho intensifying as neither averted their gaze.

"Okay." Chan replied after a while. "I don't really know you, but I guess it suits her. If anything happened, I wouldn't expect an officer anyway."

Slightly disturbed, Minho pulled his notes from his bag, offering Chan a big sheet of paper. Just like that, the two had begun- Just as Minho had with Ryujin before.

"I can't help with other Exes, I don't know any of their names. I do know where she hangs out usually." Chan supplied helpfully.

"Chelle, she's very into art. She thinks her art, only hers, is the best of the best. She considers herself an undiscovered gem, that kind of mentality. She'll do anything for exposure, and she likes compliments a lot." Chan bit his lip, pausing in his writing.

"She's not on good terms with her parents, and sometimes I remember, she said she wanted to run away. She has horrible mood swings, but when she's happy she can be the sweetest, most considerate person in the world. I think she had too much love in her, that's why…" Chan trailed off, sighing before shaking his head and writing down some more details.

"I'm not okay with that, you know? It's the worst kind of betrayal, but I'm still so worried. I never wanted anything to happen to her, I don't wish that for anyone." Minho hummed, recalling back on his previous suspicion, how ridiculous it seemed now to think that of this person.

So it went on, the two of them coming up with important details and question marks to jot down. Before they knew it the sky turned dark, an impatient barista politely asking them to leave.

"You have my number, right?" Chan asked.

"I don't." Minho replied, glad Chan remembered. The two exchanged phones, filling in their details with some hesitation.

"Call me if you need anything, or if you find her." Chan added, eyes glinting under the streetlights.

"You too, call me if you remember anything important." Minho replied, parting with a wave goodbye and heading towards the bus station.

It was only on his way back that he recalled their first exchange through the phone, and how stupid it had been to expect anything else from a friend of Felix's, of all people.

Groaning lowly, Minho moved his bag up, staring at the paper pile stuffed inside it neatly. Ahead was, he expected, a night full of reading- all 38 new pages of details about this girl, who he found himself liking less and less with every passing statement.

Over an extended time period Minho had found himself visiting many different places to no avail. He tried asking around, dropping Chelle's name here and there for good measures, but it seemed that the girl had vanished into thin air. Her only legacy had been the outrageous rumors surrounding her name, such as dating kids much younger than herself and having sex to get her way in the art world. Really, Minho should have stopped there- he wanted nothing to do with this girl anymore, was happy even; happy that she didn't get to lay her hands on his sister. Yet he couldn't stop thinking, this girl.. She was missing, it was real, and not one soul other than him have made a single attempt to locate her. How could he give up now?

It had been a long day- visiting a bar from the list in the morning before moving to a café nearby and finishing one of his assignments, Minho decided to follow up on Chelle's tracks. Twelve days have passed since his meeting with Chan, and although his anxiety kept getting worse, the list of things to check kept getting shorter with every lead he crossed out.

This one had honestly been a lame lead, but he wanted to make the most out of it- a short trip out of seoul, to a grass patch stretching a couple miles that was similar to the one he saw on her Instagram. If he couldn't find her with anyone's help, he thought- maybe he should try to think like her more. This girl, where would she go? Who would she meet? What would she do? And for that this practice was important, too.

The land stretched, tall grass for as far as the eye could see. He roamed around, looking at the tall buildings that made his home from afar. From here, definitely- he recognized the scenery as the one she drew that time. Stepping back through the grass, it didn't make much of a difference from how far he's already been, but the moment felt special somehow.

Minho breathed in, a strong breeze blowing from the front and carrying the dust and pollution of the city with it. Bad air, even this far back. At least it was silent, no cars, no birds either- it felt peaceful. Minho stepped back again, pulling out his phone, intending to take a photo. A couple more steps back, and he tripped- landing on his butt in the grass.

It was there that he found her.

Jisung stretched, back aching after sleeping in so late.

"Good morning, and good luck falling back asleep at a normal hour." Seungmin commented. True that, Jisung managed to mess his sleep schedule pretty badly. Good thing it was friday.

Standing up, he considered responding before giving up and making his way to the kitchen.

"Ji," Seungmin spoke up once more,

"At least brush your teeth. I'm your roommate, not your mom- I shouldn't have to tell you this!" His voice, although annoyed, remained calm. He did have a point.

"Okay mom." Jisung replied, deadpan. Without another word he turned, entering the bathroom and picking up his toothbrush to do as instructed.

Life as an art major was hard- he had so much work to do in little time, and the pressure made it feel a little like a job. Nowadays his minor in music made for the only stress reliever he could put time into without guilt, and he wondered if maybe he should have chosen it for major instead. Useless thinking about it now, anyway.

Jisung went on brushing, releasing a small whine at the thought of his next assignment. Whatever- he rolled his eyes, raising a hand to rub the remains of sleep away.

Tall grass, the clear view of seoul from afar- blurring, moving, fast as if he was struck by lightning.

The toothbrush clinked loudly against the sink as it dropped, leaving Jisung with the reflection of himself in the mirror, left hand raised. He made quick way, spitting the paste and powerwalking back to their room, brushing against Seungmin on his way there.

"Jisung? Jisung, you can't just leave this here." Seungmin bristled, pausing at the sight of Jisung pulling out his sketchbook with the craze of someone going through a revelation.

He sighed, recognizing the scene in front of him. "Inspiration struck?"

Jisung hummed, wiping his mouth and beginning to sketch. This happened every once in a while, it was one of the things that made Jisung… well, Jisung.

"I'll clean up. Should I order takeout?" Seungmin asked, affection sneaking into his voice. He's a bit weird, but sometimes he was cute too.

"Thank you, please." Jisung replied absentmindedly, focused on the paper.

"I will. Okay." Seungmin concluded, fishing his phone out to call his favorite fast food handler.

To them, after all, it was nothing more than an average friday night.

23 notes · View notes

theyilinglaozus · 4 years

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Oh god I had completely pushed away the fact that JGY married his sister and killed his son, which is atrocious. I do understand that the upbringing and trauma he realized pushed him into that direction but still, as you said, he went a bit too far there. Now that you say it, I also wonder what JZX would have been like as a sect leader. I agree that he would probably have been a great one, we see his mediating abilities in the Qiongqi Path scene between WWX and Jin Zixun, he ALMOST managed it -✨

And don't we all not know how to deal with a crush in our teenage years? I mean I don't know if it's because of my age or my awkwardness or a healthy combination of both, but I literally. Cannot deal with crushes. Just like LWJ. Although I wouldn't pretend to hate my crush, haha. But yeah, LWJ and JZX aren't very different in that matter, if LWJ weren't a Lan and hadn't grown up with thousands of rules and the pressure to not show emotion, he might have acted just like JZX -✨

WWX going full Baoshan Sanren is a concept I've never thought about, but it is incredibly interesting! Though I wonder if it would have worked out, because I'm sure the other sects wouldn't really appreciate even more demonic cultivators, haha. But we'll never know if it would have worked, unfortunately. But question time! What do you speculate would have happened to WWX and the Wens if WN hadn't killed JZX? Do you think it would've ended happily or would there have been an unforeseeable twist?✨

Yeah, Jin Guangyao just straight up murdering his own son is ... 😬 Not that there wasn’t a lot he didn’t do beforehand that wasn’t terrible, but there’s no coming back from killing his own child.

That’s the heartbreaking thing isn’t it? Jin Zixuan was already showing examples of being a great sect leader, mediating what to do and what he did to try and get Wei Wuxian to meet his nephew, likely knowing it would also be an opportunity to try and begin a method of fixing things and figuring out the truth of why Wei Wuxian was protecting the Wens ... ugh. They were so close to possibly heading on a different path before all the murder happened 😢

Oh my god, tell me about it! There are so many things about Lan Wangji that I find relatable, but the way he deals with crushes? Too real! 😆 Wangji, stop calling me out for doing the whole ‘I will care about this person privately and without ever dealing with these feelings I have for them’ tactic, it’s just how we do! And that’s really interesting what you say about how, if he wasn’t born in Gusu Lan he might have dealt with his emotions the same was as Jin Zixuan (or, not deal with them still I guess). I can really see that! Now I’m just imaging that scene where Zixuan stands awkwardly for a while in front of Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli before running away, but with Lan Wangji 😂 The poor boys, we love you really! 💖

I’m gunna pop the rest of this reply under a cut, because I (once again!) seem to have a lot of thoughts about the questions you asked, and I reckon my response will get long!

See, I think if Wei Wuxian - for whatever reason - did just end up becoming the Yiling Patriarch and following Baoshan Sanren to some degree, it would have been a lot of ‘this is what people think he’s doing vs. this is what he’s actually doing’. I think there would be the fear of him creating more demonic cultivators (especially since more demonic cultivators do pop up anyway, since we know in the novel Jiang Cheng goes after them and, well. Xue Yang is right there. Actively admiring Wei Wuxian to some extent and wanting his help to bring Xiao Xingchen back) but I don’t actually think Wei Wuxian would teach demonic cultivation. He only learns it himself out of necessity and survival, and I dunno, I sort of feel it’s something he’d not necessarily want to put upon others if they had other options available to them. I can see him teaching disciples about talismans and archery, how to cultivate and help a golden core begin to grow. Plus there’s Wen Ning and Wen Qing, who I like to imagine would also maybe pass on some of their own skills - healing and medicine for Wen Qing and perhaps fighting methods from Wen Ning.

I also kind of feel it’s something Wei Wuxian wouldn’t actively set out to do, but that younger disciples would come to him wanting to learn from him anyway. Especially Wen Yuan, who we know adores Wei Wuxian 😍 I once saw an idea that maybe disciples of Wei Wuxian are really rare and tend to hide because of the stigma of their sect and what the cultivation world thinks of them, but they often wear a red ribbon in their hair as a little nod to him which is adorable. I love that sort of thing.

Had the Wens’ lived and Jin Zixuan didn’t die ... oof. I am loving this question because it is such a good one!

I honestly don’t know if things would have ended happily. I’d like to imagine they would, but I also feel that something else would have likely happened. It just feels like such a big point in the story that carries so much importance along with it that somehow, tragedy still would have struck (that or I’m just being extra with my love for tragedy and angst once more) 😛

I ... actually think that Wei Wuxian still would have ended up dying, and the reason for that is a mix of both his loss of golden core and how his health was being affected at the time of protecting the Wens anyway. The story makes it very clear to us that his demonic cultivation is pulling a lot on his physical and mental health, and that Wei Wuxian is likely becoming thin and malnourished from lack of eating properly due to food shortages. He’s already got a history of starvation from his days on the streets which is not good, and given what he’s gone through in a short span via loss of golden core, being thrown into the burial mounds and left to die, having to feed on the dead to survive, taking up an unnatural cultivation practice in order to survive and then coming back and having to eventually face the burial mounds again but this time in an aim to create a new home for those that have no other place in the world? There’s a lot of strain being put upon his body in a small amount of time, not to mention a lack of really understanding the new limitations to his body.

The story makes it very clear that golden core transfusion has not been done before for good reasons, and although Wen Qing is a good doctor and likely one of the best of her time ... she doesn’t even really understand what comes next for him. I imagine she’d be watching him to make sure he was alright, but given the stress of what was going on and Wei Wuxian’s own flaw in not telling anyone the truth of anything about how he’s feeling or what he’s been through, she’d be struggling with a thing that has no guideline to follow. And because Wei Wuxian is keeping this important piece of information close to his own heart and would likely take the truth to the grave so as not to hurt his brother, it’s not like he feels he can go to his siblings or Lan Wangji and say ‘hey, so my golden core has gone and my bodies kind of been put through the ringer since then, I don’t really know if I’m healthy or very much need some help?’

I guess my happy, dream scenario is ‘Wei Wuxian stays with the Wen’s, teaches some baby cultivators and over the years builds secret relations with the Jiang sect, Nie Huaisang, Jin Zixuan, potentially Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen to some degree’. Maybe when the truth comes out or is learnt the relations become more overt, until eventually his own tiny sect becomes a little more welcome in the cultivation world - likely after learning he’s still more of an asset to them than any real threat.

But my more realistic, angsty scenario is ‘Wei Wuxian dies from a multitude of complications - mainly golden core loss and his cultivation practices but also lack of looking after his own health, the world is still led to believe lies and stories are spun that he died from his use of demonic cultivation, making him a warning tale for others’.

What about you, CC? Do you have any scenarios or ideas of what could have happened if things had gone differently at Qiongqi Path?

#replies #anonymous #classified cultivator ✨#mdzsnetcc #you get a beast of a response today cc!#mainly because i left this message overnight to think about #which ... opened pandora's box of ideas for me #😅 oops!#also - you made me think about the similarities between wei wuxian and baoshan sanren #which has been on my mind a lot since rewatching early episodes whilst gif making

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