There was something unsettling about just how aggressively innocuous Anakin Skywalker looked. The boy wasn’t a vergence, he was the vergence. There were so many shatterpoints surrounding him, he was practically a flaw in the fabric of reality. Mace didn’t know if he really was the Chosen One, but no one with that much potential had any right being a ragamuffin slave.
Skywalker had tested well and proved strong in the Force, but the whole Council in turmoil by the time he was through. They exchanged uneasy glances as he bowed and left the room.
“Clouded, the boy’s future is,” said Yoda.
“That is an understatement,” Mace said, trying to massage away a looming headache. A possible Sith and a definite vergence were not what he was expecting when he woke up this morning. Trust Qui-Gon to dump both of them in his lap at once.
“He could be a great warrior for the Light,” Depa said.
“Or a tool for the Dark Side,” countered Ki-Adi-Mundi. “We can not risk training him.”
But what to do with him if they didn’t? Mace closed his eyes and traced the possibilities. Skywalker could save and be adopted by the Royal House of Naboo. He could be acquired by the Sith. He could spark a slave revolt in the Outer Rim. There was no path Mace could see where the boy starved quietly on a street somewhere. They could dump him into the darkest hole of the
Coruscant’s Lower Levels and he would still shape the fate of the galaxy.
“I agree that he is too dangerous to train,” Mace said, “but we can not let this boy out of our custody.” No child with that much sheer potential could be allowed to shape their own destiny.
“What are you suggesting?”
What was he suggesting? Mace wasn’t sure he knew. They should keep the boy, but as what? A ward? A prisoner? A servant? Any option would be as unprecedented as taking on a 9-year-old initiate, but what could they do? Just sit back and let the galaxy change?
BayoJeanne Week Day 1| Prompt: Beach Day Pairing: Bayonetta/Jeanne
Summery: Cereza enjoys long warm days out on the shore, but she enjoys Jeanne’s company far more.
The shiny white sand of the shore reflected almost as much sunlight as the ocean. Tiny granules like little coals against the feet of the many, many beach goers that swarmed in fluctuation all around them. Off in the distance, the ocean pulsed on and ever on, hissing and sighing with each wave. It was perhaps the most textbook example of a beach day one could ever dream of.
“I thought the point of laying on the beach was to tan, Cereza?”
Including the occasional irritated tone of her present company.
Opening one eyelid by a sliver, Cereza looked up to see Jeanne staring across the open expanse of the ocean. Or at least, that’s where Cereza guessed she was looking, it was a bit hard to tell with the broad sunglasses Jeanne wore.
“And what does it look like I’m doing?” she replied as she luxuriously stretched her arms to the side and then brought them forward to prop her chin up on her hands, the warm fabric of the beach towel softly tickling her palms.
Jeanne titled her head to look down, her white hair spilling over her shoulder in pretty waves. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself, though as you know, it will take you hours before the sun will have any effect on your skin,” Jeanne reached up and shifted her sunglasses up to rest on her head, her gun-metal grey eyes shining with amusement, “one of the many side effects of our contracts that might be more of a hindrance than a help, at least in this situation.”
Summary: Y/N gets tired of waiting around for Dean when he shows up unexpectedly
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1029
A/N: This is definitely a day late but hopefully not a dollar short! This is written for @impalaimagining 1k celebration! The fic is based off of the song I Know You Won’t by Carrie Underwood. Thanks @megansescape for the beta!
It was late at night and your house was quiet, any noise made would echo through the empty halls. You had taken everything and packed it away. You only had one box left to take to your car, but you would do that in the morning. You had one foot on the stairs, ready for bed, when you heard that familiar knock at your door. It was hard, but not angry, you knew the person on the other side of the door just couldn’t wait to get in. There was only one person who would knock like that, Dean Winchester. You froze in place, unsure if you were going to open the door or not. You hadn’t seen him in four months and you hadn’t talked to him in two. The last time he contacted you was when he sent a picture of Sam’s arm asking if it needed stitches. Since you worked as a vet, you were always able to stitch whatever wound Dean appeared at your door with or give him substantial medical advice.
You made your way to the door expecting to see Dean, beaten and cut up, but to your surprise, he was fully intact. “Dean? What are you-”
Before you could finish, he engulfed you in a hug. “I’ve missed you so much, baby.”
Charlie burst in through the front door and turned into the surgery. Jean followed him through, and was met with dust and the remnants of wood and plaster covering Lucien’s desk.
She looked up to find Lucien’s legs hanging from the ceiling. One pant leg ripped up the seam, giving Jean a good look at his well defined calf, thigh, and-
Charlie pulled her attention away, “We- He wanted to see what the victim would have seen.”
Lucien’s voice could barely be heard, “Jean?! Are you in the room?”
She rolled her eyes, “Yes! What were you thinking?!”
“They lived right round the corner… his roof would be visible from ours!”
A loud ominous creak interrupted any scolding she had ready.
“Lucien do not move!”
Jean ran into his bedroom, thinking quickly, grabbing the duvet and pillows. As she ran back into the study, the roof groaned. Charlie looked at the bedclothes in her hand, confused.
“He’s going to have to jump, or fall, down- might as well try and soften the blow.”
The roof protested once more. “Jean?! Darling?!”
She glanced up and then back down, “Hold on just a moment more!” She draped the duvet over the desk, placing the pillows on it and folding it over them.
“You can let go now Lucien, but be careful!”
He half shimmied, half fell, landing in an inelegant heap on his desk. Groaning loudly he rolled off the desk, clutching the middle of his back. “Bloody hell!. Something jammed up the middle of my back”
Jean huffed, cleaning some of the debris off along with the linens. Underneath she found the crushed remains of the telephone and receiver. Picking up the receiver she held it front of Lucien’s face. “I think I have found the source of your pains.”
July 26: Favorite Quote(s). From inspiring (though occasionally self-depreciating at the same time) speeches to classics like “Don’t be lasagna,” what are some of your favorite 12th Doctor quotes?
I’m so glad this says quotes because there’s no way I’d just be able to pick one quote. Here goes:
DOCTOR: Kidneys! I’ve got new kidneys. I don’t like the colour. CLARA: Of your kidneys? What’s happening? DOCTOR: We’re probably crashing. Oh! CLARA: Into what? DOCTOR: Stay calm. Just one question. Do you happen to know how to fly this thing?
This quote introduces us to Twelve–gathering facts, making speculations, asking questions, figuring out how to fly (and who to be) by the seat of his pants. That’s Twelve to a tee!
From “The Husbands of River Song”:
RIVER: Oh, before you come in, you’d better prepare yourself for a shock. It’s not as snug as it looks. (She goes back inside.) DOCTOR: Finally. RAMONE: Finally? DOCTOR: It’s my go. [He enters the TARDIS] Oh. My, God! Oh, it’s bigger! RIVER: Well, yes. DOCTOR: On the inside, RIVER: We need to concentrate. DOCTOR: Than it is RIVER: I know where you’re going with this, but I need you to calm down. DOCTOR: On the outside! RIVER: You’ve certainly grasped the essentials. DOCTOR: My entire understanding of physical space has been transformed! Three-dimensional Euclidean geometry has been torn up, thrown in the air and snogged to death! My grasp of the universal constants of physical reality has been changed forever. (River has gone down the stairs.) DOCTOR: Sorry. I’ve always wanted to see that done properly.
This is the best thing ever. And I re-watched again today at work and was probably turning red with silent laughter (because I was at work). I will think of this and laugh. I’m laughing as I type this. I also appreciate River’s sense of ‘I’m so focused on the mission that I don’t really notice/care how overblown and therefore how suspicious this is’.
Goodness is not goodness that seeks advantage. Good is good in the final hour, in the deepest pit without hope, without witness, without reward. Virtue is only virtue in extremis.
I know Nardole says the above, but it’s what the Doctor believes and therefore! therefore! counts as a Twelve quote. To me, at least. Especially as he and Missy both reference it in later episodes.
MONK: You are not the Doctor. You are not real. DOCTOR: Oh, you don’t have to be real to be the Doctor. Long as you never give up. Long as you always trick the bad guys into their own traps. And here’s the trap you fell into. Your simulation, it’s far too good. [He picks up the sonic shades.] Do you see these? They’re set to record. I’m blind, you see, so I’m psychically wired into these, so my memory print of the last few hours will still be intact on here. Information about you! MONK: You are not real. There is nothing you can do. DOCTOR: There’s always one thing you can do from inside a computer. Even if you’re a jumped-up little subroutine, you can do it. You can always [puts on the shades] e-mail! MONK: What are you doing? DOCTOR: I’m doing what everybody does when the world is in danger. I’m calling the Doctor. Pressing send.
It’s encouraging because you don’t have to be real to be the Doctor, and you don’t have to be fictional to be the Doctor, either. We can all be the Doctor.
From “Heaven Sent”:
You must think that’s a hell of a long time. Personally, I think that’s a hell of a bird.
Of course this is in context of the Doctor punching that wall made of azbantium, but it’s such a great story and such a great metaphor that it’s super encouraging to me.
From “The Doctor Falls”:
No! No! When I say no, you turn back around! (catches up with them) Hey! I’m going to be dead in a few hours, so before I go, let’s have this out, you and me, once and for all. Winning? Is that what you think it’s about? I’m not trying to win. I’m not doing this because I want to beat someone, or because I hate someone, or because, because I want to blame someone. It’s not because it’s fun and God knows it’s not because it’s easy. It’s not even because it works, because it hardly ever does. I do what I do, because it’s right! Because it’s decent! And above all, it’s kind. It’s just that. Just kind. If I run away today, good people will die. If I stand and fight, some of them might live. Maybe not many, maybe not for long. Hey, you know, maybe there’s no point in any of this at all, but it’s the best I can do, so I’m going to do it. And I will stand here doing it till it kills me. You’re going to die too, some day. How will that be? Have you thought about it? What would you die for? Who I am is where I stand. Where I stand, is where I fall. Stand with me. These people are terrified. Maybe we can help, a little. Why not, just at the end, just be kind?
I’m pretty sure I’ve already written about this, but yes, this speech.
From “Face the Raven”:
DOCTOR: Don’t run. Stay with me. CLARA: Nah. You stay here. In the end, everybody does this alone. DOCTOR: Clara CLARA: This is as brave as I know how to be. I know it’s going to hurt you, but, please, be a little proud of me.
From “Heaven Sent”:
DOCTOR: If you think because she is dead, I am weak, then you understand very little. If you were any part of killing her, and you’re not afraid, then you understand nothing at all. So, for your own sake, understand this. I am the Doctor. I’m coming to find you, and I will never, ever stop.
So, look, interpret the kind of love it is as you will, but it’s the Doctor’s love (and grief) for Clara that motivates him to punch the azbantium wall for 4.5 billion years.
From “The Husbands of River Song”:
DOCTOR: Every night is the last night for something. Every Christmas is the last Christmas RIVER: But you will. You’ll wait until I’ve given up hope. All will be lost, and you’ll do that smug little smile and then you’ll save the day. You always do. DOCTOR: No, I don’t. Not always. Times end, River, because they have to. Because there’s no such thing as happy ever after. It’s just a lie we tell ourselves because the truth is so hard. RIVER: No, Doctor, you’re wrong. Happy ever after doesn’t mean forever. It just means time. A little time. But that’s not the sort of thing you could ever understand, is it? DOCTOR: Mmm. What do you think of the towers? RIVER: I love them. DOCTOR: Then why are you ignoring them? RIVER: They’re ignoring me. But then you can’t expect a monolith to love you back. DOCTOR: No, you can’t. They’ve been there for millions of years, through storms and floods and wars and time. Nobody really understands where the music comes from. It’s probably something to do with the precise positions, the distance between both towers. Even the locals aren’t sure. All anyone will ever tell you is that when the wind stands fair and the night is perfect, when you least expect it but always when you need it the most there is a song. RIVER: So, assuming tonight is all we have left. DOCTOR: I didn’t say that. RIVER: How long is a night on Darillium? DOCTOR: Twenty four years.
“Every Christmas is last Christmas” is something he learned from his time with Clara. And his maturity in being able to actually come and express his love for River here is a good thing. It just means time.
From “The Pilot”:
DOCTOR: If she died when you were a baby, when did she say that? BILL: In my head. I’m supposed to look like her, but I don’t really know. There’s hardly any photographs. She hated having her picture taken. But if someone’s gone, do pictures really help?
[he glances at his pictures of Susan and River]
[and then he gets her pictures of her mom!]
This is more an action than a quote, but it’s a tangible moment of his love for Bill, in my opinion. And it’s just so lovely that he (I assume) went back and became friends with Bill’s mom in order to take pictures of her for Bill to have–it’s something that the cue-card-using Twelve of “Before the Flood” would never have done.
From “The Eaters of Light”
That’s the trouble with hope. It’s hard to resist.
Also interpret the kind of love as you will, but the Doctor loves Missy. That’s why it’s so hard for him to resist the hope that she’s genuinely turned gud.
Anyway, here are some of my favorite Twelfth Doctor quotes. Better late than never!
A day late (well, two) and a dollar short, but finally managed something for omgcp 14 days of love :)
Dex was trying to ignore the buzzing of his phone. Obviously something was going on in the group chat, but he had a huge project due in two days and couldn’t afford any distractions. His phone kept vibrating - Holster had probably found a new meme he had to share or something - and he threw it on to his bed where at least the buzzing would be muffled. It worked for about 2 minutes, until his phone rang. Grumbling, he rolled his chair over to the bed and picked it up. He frowned when he saw Bitty’s name.
“Bitty? Listen, if it’s Betsy, I’m really busy right now, can I come -”
“Dex. You need to come to the haus right now. It’s Nursey.” Bitty’s voice was firm.
“Is he okay?” Dex bolted out of his chair and shoved his shoes on, halfway out the door before Bitty could answer.
“He’s -” Yelling in the background cut him off.
“Bitty! Bits! Eric! Where did you goooooooooo?”
“I’ll explain when you get here, okay Dex? He’s not injured, but I need help.”
“Already halfway there Bitty, don’t worry.” Dex hung up and started to run in the direction of the Haus.
When he arrived at the Haus, he could hear Bitty in the kitchen and what sounded like Nursey and Chow somewhere in the area of the living room. “Bitty?”
“Dex, thank goodness.” Bitty popped his head out of the kitchen. “Come here.”
“What’s going on?” Dex asked warily.
“Just look.” Bitty walked him through to the living where, sure enough, he had heard Nursey and Chowder. Nursey was sprawled on the floor, Chowder on top of Nursey, trying to hold him in place. His arms and legs were flailing all over the place, and Chowder looked like he was having trouble keeping the limbs away from him.
“What.” Dex said flatly.
“Oh hey Dex,” Nursey said, his voice completely normal until he caught sight of Bitty. “Bitty! Eric! Why do you keep leeeeeaving meeeeee? Tell Chow to get off! Bittyyyyyyyyyy! Save me, you beautiful man! I’ll do all your dishes for the rest of my life, I’ll buy you all the good butter, pleeeeeeaaaaaseeeeee.”
“What.” Dex repeated. Chow had been silent through most of this, but finally managed to clap a hand over Nursey’s mouth and silence some of the noise.
“Bitty! Kitchen! Now! Explain there!” Chowder hissed, rearranging himself to pin down Nursey’s flailing left arm.
Bitty hustled Dex back into the kitchen, where Dex stared at him while Bitty stirred something on the stove.
“What did I just see?”
“Did you give Nursey a box of chocolates today?” Bitty asked, ignoring the question.
“Uh no, Nurse hates chocolate for his birthday.” Dex scoffed. “Wait, why? What’s going on?”
“Someone left him this box of chocolates,” Bitty pushed the box towards him - Dex hadn’t even noticed it on the counter - and continued, “He brought them here and ate a few and then…” he shrugged.
“Bitty, that sounds like a love potion.” Dex said. Bitty nodded. “Bitty, Derek’s an elf. He’s immune.”
“That’s what I thought too,” Bitty said, his nose wrinkling. “But they used unicorn blood.”
Dex sniffed at the chocolates, recoiling when he smelled the same thing Bitty had. “And you asked me if I gave them to him!?”
“I asked Chowder too,” Bitty said. “Because when a love potion is made with unicorn blood, it doesn’t have any effect any on people the user already has feelings for, and he said he had one before he saw you this morning and that didn’t have any effect. And there wasn’t any effect when he saw Chowder.” He glanced at Dex, whose ears were slowly turning red. “Anyways, I thought it might have been a prank, and you just didn’t realize they were made with unicorn blood - I don’t think you would have been able to smell it through the packaging, it’s pretty faint.”
“So how do we fix it? Just wait for it to wear off or…?”
“Please, no.” Bitty scoffed. “We all have things to do today and I can’t expect Chowder to keep sitting on him. The antidote is almost done.” He gestured towards the stove. “I just need you two to keep Nursey occupied. And he might want a friendly face around afterwards, love potions can be kind of embarrassing.”
“Most people don’t find my face friendly,” Dex told Bitty, smiling so his fangs showed.
“You know what I mean,” Bitty said, rolling his eyes. “Now go help Chowder with Nursey while I finish this. It should only be a few more minutes.”
Dex nods at Bitty, watching him flick the wooden spoon into a slow stir before he turns back to his potion book, the pages flipping in front of him while he looks between that and his phone, probably texting Jack about the whole silly situation. Reassured that Bitty had everything under control, he headed back to the living room.
Nursey has calmed down, though he’s not sure if it’s because Bitty is out of sight or because Chow is sprawled out on top of him, licking his paw.
“Really Chow? A lion? What if one of the frogs walks in here, you’re going to give them a heart attack.”
Chowder blinks slowly at him, then goes back to licking his paw as if to say “whatever”.
Dex plops down next to Nursey, who smiles up at him.
“Hey Nursey, you got yourself into some trouble huh?” Dex poked the other boy’s cheek.
“It wasn’t on purpose,” Nursey pouted. “I thought the chocolates were from you.”
“You hate chocolates on your birthday,” Dex pointed out.
“Yes but I like chocolate in general, so…” Nursey tried to shrug, but had a hard time considering he was pinned to the living room floor by a Chow-lion.
“You’re an idiot,” Dex told him. “Come on, let’s get you on the couch while we wait.”
“What are we waiting for, is Bitty coming back?”
“Oh my god,” Dex didn’t know whether he wanted to slap Nursey or feel bad for him.
Dex and Chowder managed to get Nursey to the couch, where Dex sits on his legs and Chow, now a lynx, curls up on his chest while they wait. Dex flicked idly through the channels before settling on ESPN. They made it halfway through a Top 10 Countdown before Dex’s phone vibrated.
“Be cool Sodapop, lover boy is coming,” Dex told Nursey. Chowder shifted back and grabbed Nursey’s arms before he could flail himself off the couch.
“Dex, why would you tell him that? He’s yours for the rest of the night, I swear.”
Bitty poked his head into the living room. “Safe to come in?”
“Yeah, we got him,” Chow said, talking over Nursey’s whining, “Come on in.”
Bitty brought a glass of green liquid with him and held it out to Nursey. “Hey Derek, this is for you.”
“Aw Bitty, you made me a drink! Thank you!!” Nursey took it without hesitation and gulped it down, nearly choking on the last sip as he realized how terrible it tasted. “Are you trying to poison me!?”
“That’s an antidote, actually,” Chowder told him as Nursey’s face turned slightly green. “You ate chocolates dosed with a love potion that actually works on elves.”
“And then you fell in love with Bitty,” Dex told him gleefully.
“At least he would cook for me,” Nursey stuck his tongue out. “Wait, why Bitty and not you?”
“That potion only works on people you don’t already have feelings for,” Bitty told him, glancing quickly at Chowder and then Dex.
“Uh, speaking of that,” Chowder said quietly, “I think we have something we should tell you.”
A day late and a dollar short, I’m
afraid, but sometimes life happens just a little too fast to keep up.
I’m not sure whether I will get today’s done today, or not. My
grandmother is terminally ill, and we’re on the death watch. The
writing is helping me cope, but I’m not sure how much time I’ll be able
to put into it over the coming days. Thanks to everyone who is reading
and commenting, you guys are wonderful. ^_^
ended up writing something very similar to what @freedom-shamrock came up with, and @marinette-buginette too, I think, though it was completely unintentional. Great minds, and all that. ;)
Marinette sat listlessly at her desk chair with her knees pulled up
to her chest and her arms wrapped loosely around them. A plate of
cookies sat untouched on her desk, evidence of her mother’s attempt to
cheer her up. She sighed dejectedly. “I should have known better than
to get my hopes up, Tikki. They’ve only chosen a 17 year old twice
before, so I knew it was a long shot. But I’d felt so sure…”
Marinette, hope is never a bad thing.” Her kwami nuzzled closer,
offering comfort the only way she knew how. “You’ll have a whole year
to get better, and then you can apply again.”
“I know, Tik. I just had my heart set on doing it this year. I guess I didn’t even consider the possibility that—”
was a tell-tale thump overhead, and Tikki dove into her hidden nest
just as a shadow fell over the skylight. Marinette waved him in without
rising. “What are you doing here so early? It’s nowhere near dark
yet,” she said as he dropped in through the skylight.
“Well hello to you too, Princess.”
She winced, and dropped her feet from the chair as he settled on the floor next to her. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be snippy.”
He folded his arms over her lap, and rested his chin on them. “What’s bugging you?”
She snickered at his unintentional pun, and waved away his curious look with a blush. No way was she explaining that. She began toying with his hair absently. “I didn’t get that internship.”
what?” He straightened abruptly, a surprised frown on his face. “But I
thought— er, I’d have thought you’d be a shoo-in.”
did, too.” She laughed mirthlessly. “I’d thought that I had a
realistic view of my chances. I knew it wasn’t likely, and I’d thought I
was ok with that.”
“Not so much?” He put his head back on his arms, and sighed happily when her fingers returned to his hair.
“Not so much.” She agreed, running her fingers over his black cat ears, and he shivered.
“You’re wrong, though. About it not being likely.”
Chat. Thank you. But I’m young and inexperienced and they almost
always choose someone in their first year at University. I knew that.”
“Almost always. They will take on a younger intern when there’s enough raw talent, right? And you have that coming out of your ears.”
She giggled, scratching his scalp gently. “I’m glad you’re here, Chaton.”
He melted completely against her, his purr rumbling in his chest, and his eyes slid closed. “No place I’d rather be, Princess.”
Alright, here I am, a day late and a dollar short to the Imperial Radch week. But I do come bearing gifts.
Specifically- two new drinks. One for Seivarden, the other for Kalr 5.
Seivarden’s is a pastiche on the classic sazerac cocktail: Do a glass rinse with arak, then add crushed ice, a sugar cube, a shot of your preferred whiskey or cognac, a shot of cherry heering, and either angostura bitters or tea bitters. Stir, then drink while trying not to have feelings for your boss/best friend/raison d'etre.
Kalr 5 is a very civilized person, so I made her a very civilized, sip on your back porch/pound while at the Kentucky Derby kind of drink. Over ice; one shot of Pimm’s No. 1 Liqueur, 1 shot pink grapefruit liqueur (as a fun reference to her pink tea set), top up with ginger beer and throw in the aforementioned angostura/teapot bitters.
Tomorrow I hope to present my takes on Anaander and Tisarwat, but I can only make and drink so many of these in one day so ya’ll will need to be patient.
Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017 Day 3: First Kiss
Yes, yes, it’s a day late and a dollar short, but here it is!
Not Something They Agree On
Molly says the first two don’t count. They were meant as an apology and a sort of goodbye. Besides, they were on the cheek.
Sherlock maintains that they were both sincere and, although he didn’t consciously realize at the time, they were also both romantic in nature and therefore they do count.
John refuses to arbitrate, as does Lestrade. They don’t even consider asking Mycroft and Sherlock knows Meena will side with Molly so he nixes that idea in the bud. Then he has to apologize to Molly because he nixed it in the bud before she even drew breath to suggest it and she hates it when he does that, cuts her off before the words do more than form in her mind. That kiss, unquestionably, is romantic and apologetic, quite consciously so. But it’s not in the running because it’s their seventeenth kiss (by his counting, fifteenth by hers and thus their ongoing conundrum).
Mrs. Hudson is chosen as the final court of appeals, after Sherlock (allowing Molly to actually make the suggestion out loud this time) claims that his parents would be just as biased as Meena. Biased towards Molly, not their own son, as they adore her and won’t hear a word against her. (Not that anyone tries, certainly not Mycroft after receiving a lovely shiner because of some snide comment he’d made that Molly shrugged off but Sherlock…well, he’s awfully proud of that shiner.)
“Oh, love, sorry, but I’m with Molly. Those first two don’t count. I mean, yes, they were kisses and very sweet ones, at least the one I saw you give her - oh, and wasn’t that unexpected! Molly, did you know we’d none of us ever heard him sincerely apologize to anyone like that before? Not even me, and I’ve known him longest, never mind what Greg claims. He’s a dear boy but a bit forgetful at times.”
Sherlock’s eyes sort of glaze over midway through Mrs. Hudson’s speech but Molly is grinning and squeezing his hand the entire time. When she falls silent, beaming at the two of them as if she were some benevolent goddess offering her blessing (and in a way, that’s exactly what she’s doing, at least in Molly’s mind), Sherlock huffs out an annoyed breath. But he’s agreed that Mrs. Hudson has the last word on the subject and so he shrugs and offers Molly a smile of his own.
“Fine,” he says, pulling her close to his side, his arm around her shoulder. “The first kiss was the one we shared in your flat after I explained about Eurus and you patched up my splintered hands and told me what an ass I was.”
“Bastard,” Molly corrects him, her grin widening. “I’ve never called you an ass.” She turns her smile on Mrs. Hudson. “Thank you. He may be clever but sometimes he just doesn’t get it.”
And Mrs. Hudson nods in agreement, then heads back down to her own flat, leaving the two love-birds to add to their growing stockpile of kisses.
Now if only those kisses could lead to grand-tenants, her life would be complete.
So, yesterday was my second ficversary (which is totally a word. I’m a writer. Trust me.) Two years. Mind-boggling, really, that I’m still here and writing and stropping about writing. A lot of stropping about writing, if I’m honest. But it made me think how incredibly awesome this fandom is and how lucky I was to find it, and I have to take a moment to share my appreciation.
I have read some amazing stories; stories with beautiful writing, or so exquisitely in-character I forget it’s not canon, or challenge me to think more deeply. I have had conversations about fanfics with other readers that leave me feeling smarter than I was when I began. Our gif-makers and fanartists are wonderful people. I have laughed, I have debated, I have hatched crazy half-baked schemes like the Year of Tropes and had other people jump in with me. I have sat through so many rewatches that my husband is threatening to ban Game, Set, Murder (which is somehow one of two episodes he ever seems to catch). I have met some of you in person, and every one of you was a wonderful person who does the Miss Fisher’s legacy proud.
So here is to another year, new adventures, and hopefully meeting more of you some day.
The Legion have acquired the Spear of Destiny and created their ideal world, Doomworld. The world is far from ideal for everyone, especially the Legends. The Legends have been scattered, lives twisted to suit the Legion. Between Snart’s growing unusual behavior and his growing unhappiness with the new world order Mick has to decide once and for all if he’s with the Legion or the Legends
Central City 2017
The city’s landscape is changed drastically by the new reality. Star Labs is a whole domed building instead of the damaged disc with three spires. Three new and distinct buildings form a square that the rest of Central City is built around. Central is no longer a city of science but politics. Where is power there’s wealth and where there’s wealth-
Outside a Bank in Central City
Mick can’t fight the grin on his face as he and Legion!Snart make their way out of the bank with duffle bags full of money. Legion!Snart and him, partners in crime once more. This is exactly what he had been missing.
At least until the pigs surround them
.“Easy boys, we got diplomatic immunity,” Legion!Snart taunts.
Mick sends him a look that conveys how insane he thinks Legion!Snart is.
Except the taunt works and the cops start to lower their guns.
“Sorry Mister Snart, Mister Rory. We didn’t recognize you. World Council meeting today?” The spokesperson cop asks as he signals the rest to put away their guns.
“Always nice to get in a spot of fun before work,” Legion!Snart answers as his smile turns into more of a grimace.
Mick waits until the cops completely disperse before he demands answers.