Untitled drabble (2015-11-04)

“You’re kidding,” Alvin says flatly, eyes narrowed.

The doctor, in response, lifts one eyebrow. Even though it’s been years–over a decade–it still triggers an instinctive fear reaction in Alvin. He freezes, and she smiles, a slow creeping thing like a beast curling its lip back.

He lifts his chin. In humans, that would be a gesture of defiance, but in beasts…

“No, I’m not kidding,” the doctor finally answers, almost smug in her victory.

Alvin looks back down at the operating table, and ignores the persistent feelings of deja vu, of being a teenager lined up beside his teammates, listening to the doctor explain the latest mission. Before, there were pictures and files about the villain of the week. Now there are only two photos; the one on the left features a sullen-faced boy, the one on the right shows a somehow equally sullen looking lion cub.

“Cats and dogs, doctor!” he protests, futilely.

She is clearly unimpressed, “Hari isn’t some house cat, and you’re not a dog. Come now, Silverfang, what are you afraid of?”

The problem is, Alvin actually is a licensed foster parent. He needed to be in order to prove himself a suitable guardian for his niece and nephew.

It was a hassle to do–given the political climate a decade ago and the fact that he was, is, a homosexual bachelor–and so he makes sure to keep it up-to-date even though Diana and Jericho are both legal adults and have no need for him to do so.

Alvin didn’t really think it would be used against him, “Fine,” he huffs, “I’ll meet him.”


A/N: ? :/

Counterclockwise (2015-02-15)

We know each other. Or at the very least we know of each other. It’s not like we’re part of a special club, go to a bar every Tuesday night, give birthday cards or gifts to each other. For one, considering who we are, that either would be very expensive or very confusing. For another, we don’t all like each other. I mean, if time allowed it, some of us would hate each other’s guts. But you can’t live for so long and not appreciate someone else who sticks around as long as you do. Or, alternatively, pops up every now and again and just knows who you are and what you’ve done… and what you will do.

True, the doctor and Jack have some strange kind of eternal awkward acquaintance thing going on. At one point they had a mutual friend, back when they were mortal, but some sort of drama went down and now it’s just the two of them for the rest of their eternal lives.

Then there’s Bastian, who, if I’m going to be honest, I don’t think is all there. For all that his kind are meant to be both magical and long-lived, that spell he’s under… or rather, curse if you ask him, is pushing it rather a lot. There’s a difference between a two century lifespan amongst others with the same longevity and a millennium of being the only one around.

Then Nyx and Michael and Azrael well, they have duties which put them above humanity so they’re actually designed for immortality. Though the next generation is going to be a real doozy from what I’ve been hearing.

As for me? Well, I’m only twenty three, and at the rate I’m going, I’m unlikely to hit thirty. But thanks to this stupid malfunctioning pocket watch I’ve played the doctor and Jack’s go-between for centuries, I’ve walked alongside Bastian throughout the millennium, and I have been pulled into more arguments of which angelic or demonic department is better than a priest could handle and still be sane.

I haven’t been back to my timeline in five years–five years for me, anyway. I miss it. I want to go back, but I can’t. And if you ever read these… I hope you know that I’m sorry. I’m still mad that you doubted me, but I understand why you did. I’m mad that you think I’d go evil so easily, but I am sorry for abandoning you during that last battle. It’s not like I had much of a choice, but I’m still sorry.


A/N: My unreliable narrator OC–the time traveling Leanne Peridot who was once a teenage vigilante until her mystical pocket watch malfunctioned during a fight against some villains and bounced her around time. She’s just mentioning some of the various immortals/cursed people she occasionally sees.

Untitled (2015-01-20)

Joy is tired, angry, and bleeding. She is missing one of her shoes, has torn both legs of her pants, and will need to get a haircut to even out the still smoking mess on her head. But she trudges back to the apartment triumphantly, because she did it.

She killed the vampire that bit her brother. She even beat the one month deadline by a week.

“Simon,” She greets him, after a quick stop to dunk her head under the kitchen sink. Might as well try to save as much as she can, “Simon, I did it.”

For obvious reasons, the past three weeks have not been kind to her brother. To begin with, he had always been somewhat sickly–asthma, allergies, liable to catch four different strains of the flu–but the whole vampire infection being what it is, basically his body just started to systematically shut down. And she had been forced to confine him to their apartment.

“Simon?” Her call nearly echoes in their tiny, empty apartment. His bedroom window is open, the screen punched through from the inside.

“Oh god, no.” But even as her mind denies it, her hand is already pulling out her phone and calling the one person who may be able to fix this.

“You were too late,” The doctor intones, expression as irritatingly blank as always.

“No, I had one month to kill it.” Joy bites back, fists shaking in her pockets.

“If you had come to me sooner–”

“It was your team that fucked up, why would I trust you with something this important?”

“–I would have been able to tell you that you mistranslated. You didn’t have one month, you had one moon. Specifically, you had until the full moon.” Ellen’s face is still placid, but even she’s not so unaffected as to deny the sorrow seeping into her voice. The doctor had been fond of Simon, in her own way, and even his sister for all that the feeling wasn’t mutual.

“But that was…” Joy breathed out, horrified and unable to finish.

“Eleven days ago,”


A/N: meh…