#whump lite

[shittishittibangbang]

guy who has his life together

[sickficsaturn]

Hold on, hold on-

Right now, I just got a wave of feels thinking about the softest whump.

-offering bandaids

-“kiss it better”

-“let me see it/ let me have a look”

-that little sympathetic frown or “ouch.” From caretaker.

-“rest now, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Just… gentle vibes. Nothing major, nothing life-or-death, just “did you get hurt? Awww… 🥺”

[whumplr-lite]

A warm reunion

Yay, this is the first story that I'm posting on this blog! Hope there's many more to come~~

Part 1: here || Part 2

CW: heat exhaustion, female whumpee, female caretaker, emeto mention

...

End of August, 20??

This was the first time that A had been assigned the task to be at the wine stall.

It made sense. The first time she and her friend group had signed up as volunteer participants in the annual Festival of Traditional Handicraft, they were still teenagers, engaging only for the sake of earning an (almost) free getaway from their hometown and getting to fool around in nature while doing minimum labour.

A had felt a light pang in her chest when she found out that most of her friend group couldn't attend the festival this year, each too busy with their own newly established adult life to keep up with the tradition. In between her summer job and her upcoming second year of university, the one buffer half-week that the festival took place in was her only opportunity to truly enjoy the remainder of summer vacation, and reuniting with some of her friends was what she was looking forward to the most.

Not that she could blame them, really. The growing distance between them all was merely a byproduct of adulthood that she had anticipated, as cold of a fate as it was.

Besides, at the very least, B had promised to show up. Granted - B's way in to the festival was through her participation in a folk dance ensemble, with an evening dance program so intense that most of the dancers barely had the time to actually enjoy the festivities due to last-minute practice - so their reunion was destined to be short-lived. But it was something.

Carpet weaving. Embroidery. Blacksmithing. Pottery. Traditional bread ovens. Murals with art of national heroes.

Serving wine and multicolored slushies in disposable plastic cups wasn't exactly classy, but it kept the vibe going. Right across from the stall, a well-preserved, traditional carpet weaving machine attracted the attention of newcommers first and foremost, with a half-finished rug hanging off a hook on the side.

There was no way she could handle this for three more days. There was no way she could bear the heat, the noise, the bubbling anxiety, scratchiness of the fabric, the dehydration, the smell of alcohol while nauseous, the yelling children, the blinding light from the sun, the roaring engines from the nearby parking lot...

The harsh knock on the bathroom stall almost made her jump with fright, and she felt her own breath hitch in her throat like a pebble.

"O-occupied!" She stammered, and immediately regretted it.

Great. Now whoever was on the other side not only knew she was there, but was also likely to expect her to come out within the next minute or so. She clenched the muscles in her shaky legs in an attempt to steady herself, and slowly extended one leg towards the tiled floor, hoping to be able to keep her balance for long enough to exit the bathroom.

"A? Is that you?"

A felt her heart suddenly thump faster in her chest as she heard a familiar voice call out her name. Or maybe it was due to the dizziness and the blood rushing to her head. Hard to tell.

Either way, she unlocked the door and opened it with a force she didn't mean to deploy, squinting as the light from the lamp hit her eyes. It was weak and dim, but still bright enough to make spots appear in her vision.

But at the very least, her ears weren't playing tricks on her. Right underneath the lamp stood B, clutching a handbag to her side. Her lips stretched and parted to reveal a toothy smile that only lasted a second before the corners of her mouth fell, and a wave of concern distorted her features.

"Hi..."

"A... is everything alright?"

A didn't even realize when she had walked past B, suddenly finding herself gripping the edge of the sink with both hands, the fine hairs on her arms standing up on end underneath the tunic's sleeves. The red embroidery on each sleeve seemed to twist and turn, as if no longer forming its complex pattern, but instead an unraveling, spiraling mess, threads crawling all over the tiled walls, swirling across the white porcelain, wriggling all over her face...

"...feel sick."

"From what?" B reached over and turned the faucet. "Splash your face with water."

"Did that already." A mumbled, but placed her palms under the running water anyway.

"Oh... try again. I'll help you out afterwards."

"No!" She exclaimed and splashed a handful of water all over her face, letting the cooling sensation. "I just need a few minutes in shade. It's still warm outside."

"A, listen. I really need to pee. Like, urgently. But I'll be back as soon as I can and uh... try to take off some of that stuff, okay?"

She rolled up the other girl's sleeves

She had taken off the belt, apron and vest, leaving on only her white tunic.

The crickets overwhelmed the silence with their arrythmic song.

"A, where did you get that costume?"

"X rented it for me." She took a shaky breath. "Why?"

"Because I think that's wool..?" B took a fistful of the fabric. "The apron feels really thick and heavy... Yeah. He got you a woolen garb. For a festival that's in the SUMMER!"

Feeling her own voice rise because of her frustration, B covered her mouth with her hand, though A didn't budge much either way.

"Yeah... a bit inconsiderate, huh..." A muttered as she closed her eyes and finally let herself relax.

"Did you not notice?" B asked with a gentle tone, not wanting to pin the blame on her friend, who was merely following instructions.

"Mhm... thought it was a bit heavy, but... didn't think too much of it..." A trailed off.

She placed her arm over her waist and let the fingers of her left hand rhtymically tap her stomach, one by one, as if to signify that she wasn't asleep, but simply enjoying the moment of peace and relief she was granted.

And yet her fatigue was evident, her friend noted.

Opting to let her get at least a bit of rest, B tenderly drew some circles on A's shoulder with her hand and looked up at the sky and the golden edges of the clouds in the distance, letting the evening wind and the fresh air cool her down. Her own trip to the festival site had been exhausting, with the bus' stuffy smell of old, dusty upholstery and exhaust fumes, and its insufficient air conditioning sapping away her energy and motivation before her adventure had even started.

But the finality of the sunset and the low hum of the festival site in the distance felt recharging, and she could only hope the tranquility of the summer night could bring the same sense of relief for her long-time friend.

Speaking of...

A suddenly bolted up.

"Alright!" Her voice was much steadier now, despite the new colorful patterns in her vision from standing up so fast. "Let's go back. I think I lost my evening break privileges."

"You sure??" B tossed the straps of her bag onto her shoulder.

"Yeah." A put the apron back on with a sigh and picked up the folded vest. "Let's go."

B watched in silence as the girl put the metal belt back on, her figure lost among the fabric. She reluctantly stood up as well and took one look around, as if to take in every bit of the silent paradise.

Among the aeolian clamour and the low hum of the festival area in the distance, a nightingale's chirping complimented the natural harmony. Cornflowers, clover blooms and dandelions in different stages of blooming were sprinkled in the grass that lined the pathway.

But as the girls stepped away from the bench, one concern remained in B's mind, as if festering itself the further away they strayed from their newfound idyl.

"Hey, A..." B started. "Tomorrow is supposed to be hotter than today... are you still gonna wear that garb?"

"Huh? Well... I brought some casual clothes, but... you know. Wearing traditional clothing is half the charm of the festival, so I can't not wear it. X will chew my ear off. Plus, it's gonna ruin the vibe."

B sighed.

"You know what else is gonna ruin the vibe? You getting a heatstroke."

"It shouldn't be that bad tomorrow. X will reset the stall in its original place in the morning and I'll actually get to spend the day under a roof! And I'll get a chair."

"... All but in woolen clothes." B muttered, deadpan. "No, look. Our ensemble has a few spare costumes, just in case someone forgets or damages theirs. The ones we have are made of linen and cotton so we don't get overheated when dancing. I can try to get one for you, or at least a lighter tunic."

A stretched her arm to mindlessly rip a leaf off a low-hanging linden branch.

"It sounds good, but your instructor will definitely NOT allow that." She twisted the stem in between her fingers.

"They will. Trust me." A devilish smile appeared on B's face, made a tad bit more sisnister by the shadows cast on her face.

A chuckled regardless.

"But seriously though..." B looked up at her friend, smirk falling off. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah..."

Well, her limbs still felt stiff, her eyes were still burning, the back of her throat was still dry, the heat trapped in the garnments was already making her sweat and she felt more than ready to hit the hay despite it being the mere beginning of dusk. But there was no point in worrying B further, right?

"It's all good."

"Alright then." B exclaimed. "Now let's go find X. You gotta at least tell him what happened."

"Nah..." She sighed in embarrassment, fingers gripping the edges of the tunic sleeves. "That's not necessary."

"Then I will let him know." B shrugged, her intentions concrete despite her playful tone.

Internally grateful for the support, A shot her a faux look of disappointment and followed along as the lights of the festival engulfed their silhouettes.

...

[riversofmars]

A little whirlwind adventure for Day 23!

Prompt: You break it, you buy it | auction | ransom | pursuit

Fandom: Doctor Who

Characters: Thirteenth Doctor/River Song + the Fam

Rating: G

Summary: The Doctor bumps into River Song aboard a space station. Chased by criminals, they run, as there is little time for anything else, just like the old days.

You break it, you buy it

“I’m sure they have a You break it, you buy it policy!“ The Doctor exclaimed as they rushed down the corridor.

“Yes, I figured that!“ River retorted as she glanced behind them at the mob of gangsters that were chasing after them. No matter which century, criminal goons always had the same look about them. The quality of their weapons might very, but they were always big, burly and stupid. They nearly fell over each other as they chased after them.

“Then why did you break it?“ The Doctor carried on and River huffed:

“It wasn’t on purpose, was it!“

She shot back as they got to a crossroads. “This way…“ They turned left through a set of fire doors that the Doctor promptly soniced shut. It should buy them some time. They had only bumped into each other moments ago when River had accidentally - or on purpose? The Doctor wasn’t sure - broken a very expensive vase at an illegal auction. They were on a space station in the far future surrounded by criminals. It was not the place to act like a bull in a china shop so they had found themselves chased by the organisers of the auction, or rather, their lackeys. “What are you doing here anyway?“ River asked, catching her breath.

“Trying to get something back that’s mine,“ the Doctor retorted as she pulled up a floor plan of the space station on a nearby wall screen.

“And what’s that?“ River asked, watching her wife with curiosity.

“Well…“ The Doctor traced a route on the screen with her finger, one that would lead them right back into the hornet's nest. “What are these gangs best known for?“

“They didn’t.“ River looked at her incredulously. “They’re trying to black mail you?“

“Pay the ransom or your friends get auctioned off as slaves… needless to say, I was gonna go for option three: rescue them,“ the Doctor explained. It had been her fault. She should never have taken the Fam to this sector of the galaxy but the TARDIS had been acting up and they had found themselves attacked.

“I would hope so,“ River retorted, enraged on her behalf.

“But now, you’ve caused a commotion and they’ve tripled security and I have no idea how to get to my friends,“ the Doctor huffed, looking back to the fire doors that the space thugs were trying to pry it open.

“Maybe I could help?“ River suggested with a smirk and pulled out a blaster from inside her leather jacket.

“Like the old days?“ A grin spread across the Doctor’s face at the prospect of it.

“Lead the way,“ River smirked and they started running down the corridor, just in time before the fire door gave way.

The space station was big but the Doctor had memorised the route. It didn’t take long, they took a shortcut through the kitchens and a maintenance shaft and soon, they had not only shaken their pursuers but also found themselves on the holding cells level. It didn’t take them long to find the one the Doctor’s companions were being held in.

“Doctor!“ Yaz, Ryan and Graham exclaimed in unison when they spotted the Doctor appearing in front of the cell.

“Hi Fam! We’ll have you out of there in no time!“ The Doctor exclaimed in relief before turning back to River who was examining the locking mechanism next to the door. “Can you get it open?“

“You know me, never able to resist a locked door,“ River grinned and pulled her sonic trowel from her bag.

“Okay, that could have gone better,“ the Doctor groaned when an alarm sounded. They had only just lost their pursuers!

“You go ahead, I’ll cover you. Get them out,“ River exchanged her sonic trowel for her blaster, awaiting the arrival of more guards as the Doctor pulled open the unlocked cell door.

“Are you guys okay?“ The Doctor turned her attention to the Fam, save in the knowledge that River would be able to cover their backs.

“Yes! Perfectly fine!“ Yaz grinned, relieved and Ryan added:

“Good to see you, Doctor!“

“Who’s this?“ Graham asked, gesturing to River. There was no time to explain as just then, a dozen burly guards appeared in the detention area. River started firing.

“Let’s go!“ The Doctor urged and they started running to the other exit on the other side.

“How are we going to get out of here?“ Yaz yelled as more guards appeared, baring their way.

“The TARDIS is this way!“ The Doctor exclaimed, heading for another exit.

“They’ll catch up with us in no time, you’ll need a distraction or you won’t make it.“ River was right behind her, guarding their escape.

“River, don’t do anything stupid!“ The Doctor recognised the daredevil attitude in her voice, something she loved and feared in equal measures. River’s braveness, love for adventure and sometimes self-sacrificial tendencies were so attractive, but also incredibly dangerous.

“Never quite enough time, is there,“ River laughed at the irony of it all as they rushed through a bulkhead, an empty corridor ahead.

“River!“ The Doctor exclaimed when she realised River had stopped. She turned around to find her standing by the bulkhead, which just slid shut with River on the other side.

“Sorry Sweetie, going to have to cut this short.“ River gave a wave through the reinforced glass window in the heavy duty door.

“River, they’ll be on you in no time!“ The Doctor exclaimed, hammering against the window. She caught a glimpse of River’s grin, which was so infuriatingly attractive.

“I’ve got my own way out, remember?“ She raised her hand to the window while typing coordinates into the vortex manipulator at her wrist. She ducked and blaster fire ricocheted off the metaldoor.

“River, I’ve not seen you in so long, please, come with us…“ The Doctor pleaded and River smiled.

“Next time, Sweetie,“ she winked and took a moment to fire at the approaching guards.

“How do you know there is a next time? Come on, River…“ The Doctor hammered against the door.

“There is always a next time.“ River smiled.

“Until there isn’t,“ the Doctor shouted, terrified that this might be that last time. She had not expected to see her, not after Darillium, so what were the chances they would see each other again? It had been so long and this brief encounter was just a painful reminder of how much she was missing her.

“Spoilers, Sweetie.“ River blew her a kiss and disappeared in a fizz of energy.

“River!“ The Doctor shouted but it was too late, she was gone.

“Doctor, come on!“ It was Yaz that grabbed her arm and pulled her away. River had bought them time by deadlocking the bulk head but they were bound to get through it eventually, they had to keep moving. Reluctantly, the Doctor fell into step with the Fam and they pelted down the corridor towards the TARDIS.

“Doctor, who was that?“ Ryan asked as they reached the blue box.

“Only the most capable breakout artist I know. Sometimes it pays to get the help of professionals…“ The Doctor answered as she couldn’t face more truthful explanations, her emotions were too raw. She couldn’t find the words for who River Song was to her, or how much she missed her.

[short-form-whump]

The Whumpee wakes up slowly, their head throbbing and an intense aching all up the right side of their body. From their viewpoint on the ground they lift their head to survey the damage to both themselves and the building they were pulled from, which is when they become aware of the Caretaker sitting next to them, their arms resting on their knees and head hanging between them as they try to catch their breath. The Whumpee looks at the dirt trail leading from the collapsed building to where they currently were - the disturbed line of earth from their dragged body was... brief. “What is that, like ten feet?” the Whumpee croaks. “You’re this tired from ten feet?” The Caretaker lifts their head and groans: “You are so heavy, bro.” The Whumpee leans back and laughs as much as their pained body will allow. “I thought you knew how to lift?” they joke to their friend. The Caretaker lies down alongside them, close enough to be resting their temple against the Whumpee’s. “You know if I’d have known how ungrateful you’d be, I’d have just left you there.”

[riversofmars]

For Day 29, my last Gillian/Caroline piece, hope you enjoyed all the stories I did for them this month! <3

Prompt: All word, no play | overworked

Fandom: Last Tango in Halifax

Characters: Gillian Greenwood/Caroline McKenzie-Dawson

Rating: G

Summary: Gillian worries when Caroline is the only one not to turn up to Sunday dinner. Despite everyone's assurances that she's probably just forgotten the time, Gillian decides to drive over to her house.

All Work, No Play

“Alright, that’s it, I’m going over,“ Gillian decided and got up from the table.

“I’m sure it’s alright, love…“ Alan protested but the sheep farmer wouldn’t hear about it. She grabbed her phone and car keys.

“It’s just not like her, is it?“ She explained. “We’re all here for Sunday dinner, Flora is here after her sleepover with Calamity, it’s not like Caroline would forget about her own daughter and she’s not picking up her phone.“ She punched in Caroline’s number one last time for good measure but again, the call went straight to voicemail.

“Well, we can always take Flora over there on our way home later,“ Celia volunteered but Gillian shook her head.

“No, no, you stay here wi’ kids, they’re playing nicely, I’m going over there. What if something has happened?“

“I think it’s far more likely she’s wrapped up in work and forgot the time…“ Celia carried on but by this point, Gillian was already out of the door.

The drive over to Caroline’s new house was not nearly as long as going back and forth to Harrogate had been and Gillian put her foot down. It wasn’t like Caroline at all to forget about Sunday dinner and not answer her phone. She must have turned it off or run out of battery or be somewhere where she didn’t have any signal. She could only hope it wasn’t the latter, or she would have no chance of finding her.

Gillian gave a sigh of relief when she pulled up at her step-sister’s and spotted the Jag in the drive.

“Caroline? Open up, it’s Gillian!“ She called, banging on the door. “Caroline?“

Fortunately, Gillian was in possession of a spare set of keys for emergencies and she decided this constituted one.

The light was on in the kitchen, which was another good sign. Unless Caroline had gone out on foot, she should be here.

“Caroline?“ Gillian called again but there was no answer. Caroline wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room so the sheep farmer ventured deeper into the house. The bedroom was empty too - Gillian was so worried by this point that she didn’t stop to think if Caroline would mind her just walking into her bedroom.

“CAROLINE!“ She exclaimed when she finally found her, collapsed on the desk in her study. Gillian rushed over to her, all sorts of terrifying thoughts crossing her mind as the other woman wasn’t moving. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and pulled her up and Caroline awoke with a start.

“Oh my God, Gillian?“ The headteacher was disoriented, she pressed her hand to her chest where her heart was hammering furiously, she had given her a terrible fright. The experience was mutual.

“I thought you’d had a bloody heart attack!“ Gillian exclaimed as she stepped back, taking a couple of deep breaths to regain control of herself. She ran her hand through her hair and started laughing. What a relief, she had just been asleep.

“I’m not that old yet…“ Caroline huffed, rubbing her face with a deep sigh on her lips.

“Well…“ Gillian grinned.

“Fuck off…“ Caroline groaned and waved her hand to slap her arm but Gillian was quick to step out of reach. “I’m just… exhausted…“ the headteacher mumbled, running her fingers through her hair. She buried her face in her hands so she wouldn’t be left looking at the pulsating cursor against the white of a still blank document on her computer screen. She had fallen asleep over her work, her resources spread out around her and nothing to show for it.

“You’ve been working too hard,“ Gillian observed as she took in the scene.

“There’s just so much to do. I knew it wouldn’t be easy but…“ Caroline drew a shaky breath. “I think I’m in over my head. And I can’t fail, not after everything, I’ve got to show them I can do this and… and…“ She shook her head to herself, her voice strained and heavy and so unlike the always-confident and always-in-control Dr. Caroline McKenzie-Dawson Gillian knew.

“Take a breath, okay, you’re okay,“ Gillian said softly and placed her hand on the headteacher’s shoulder. The tender gesture was obviously too much in Caroline’s fragile state and she gave a strangled sob.

“I’m not okay, Gillian, I’m really not okay,“ she whispered, as desperate tears blurred her bright blue eyes.

“Maybe not but you will be,“ Gillian hummed gently and reached out to close the books in front of her step-sister. “Here, put these away…“

“I’ve got to finish that, it’s Monday tomorrow, I…“ Caroline started to protest, shooing her hands away but the sheep farmer wasn’t so easily put off.

“Just for a little while, Caroline, please, trust me. I drove all the way over here, I expect at least a cup of tea,“ she insisted and tugged at Caroline’s chair, prompting her to get up.

“Right, okay, yeah, of course, I…“ It was as if Caroline only just remembered that this was her house and there were certain rules to hosting. It was a clear testament to her frame of mind. Under normal circumstances, Caroline would never have failed to offer tea. She got to her feet and stumbled. Gillian was at her side to catch her.

“Steady on,“ the sheep farmer pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back comfortingly. “You know what, maybe we’ll skip tea, bedroom instead?“

“Well, that’s a bit forward, Gillian, don’t you think?“ Caroline managed a weak joke as she rested her head on her shoulder for a brief moment of comfort. “You haven’t even bought me dinner yet.“

“If anyone is buying anyone dinner, it’s you,“ Gillian declared, chuckling. “I’m free next Saturday, you can take me out to say thank you for hurling your arse to bed.“ She pulled away from the hug once she was sure that Caroline was steady on her feet and walked her to the door.

“I’ve got work to do next weekend, I need all the time I can get, I…“ Caroline started protesting but Gillian wouldn’t hear of it.

“No, Caroline, you don’t. What you need to do is to look after yourself,“ she insisted as they made their way to the bedroom. “You’re not helping anyone if you run yourself into the ground.“ Her voice was stern and left no room for protest. Nevertheless, she was surprised when Caroline just nodded when she sat her down on the bed.

“Right…“ the headteacher sighed.

“Now, you just lie down, sleeping at your desk is only gonna do your back in and then what are you gonna do?“ Gillian eased her down and pulled the duvet back. “I’ll have to move in here next to help you round the place and neither one of us wants that,“ she carried on and was pleased when Caroline chuckled at the very idea. “I’ll go and make tea, you stay here. Sleep if you want, don’t keep yourself awake on my account.“ Gillian straightened herself up with a satisfied nod once Caroline was tucked up in bed. She turned to leave but the headteacher grabbed her arm.

“Gillian, don’t go,“ she said softly and pulled her back.

“Right, okay…“ Gillian perched on the side of the bed, and watched curiously as Caroline moved her hand down from her arm to intertwine with her fingers instead.

“I… I genuinely don’t know if I can do this…“ Caroline whispered softly and looked up to her. She looked worn out, exhausted and weak and it broke Gillian’s heart.

“Now that’s just stupid…“ Gillian shook her head and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She leaned over her and brushed back her silky blonde hair with her free hand. “You’re Dr. Caroline McKenzie-Dawson. You can do anything.“ The sheep farmer smiled, stroking her thumb along her cheek that was damp with tears of exhaustion.

“You really think so?“ Caroline mumbled and Gillian smiled:

“I know so,“ she stated. “Besides you’ve got nothing to prove.“ She sat herself up again and moved back, until she was sat against the headboard. She continued to hold on to Caroline’s hand while the headteacher shuffled over a little to make more room for her.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I have to prove that I’m still a capable headteacher after they fired me,“ Caroline mused, rolling onto her side so she could look up at Gillian more easily.

“They didn’t fire you, you left voluntarily…“ the sheep farmer interjected.

“Before they could fire me…“ Caroline held firm. “And besides, I’m nearly 50 and I’ve got a pre-schooler. I have to stand there with all the young mothers proving that I’m still as enthusiastic and energetic as them, when really, I’m just so bloody tired and…“

“Fuck ‘em,“ Gillian huffed. “You’ve raised two kids already, they’ve got all that to come and you and I both know what a pain teenagers can be, you just wait, they’ll get their just dessert…“ She stroked the back of her hand absentmindedly.

“And I want to have something for myself too, again, at some point… I’m so… lonely with all this…“ Caroline confessed, completive, as she acknowledged how nice it felt to have her hand held like this.

“What about Olga?“ Gillian suggested and the headteacher huffed:

“It’s not just the sex, Gillian, I want to, one day, be able to share my life with someone again and who would take all this on?“ She drew a deep breath. “An overworked headteacher that’s about to hit menopause with a school age child! That package is bound to scare anyone off.“

“Doesn’t scare me.“ Gillian shrugged and Caroline chuckled:

“Yeah, well, that’s 'cause you’re an idiot.“

“Maybe that’s what you need. Maybe you need an idiot that will put up with all your shit and cares for you anyway,“ the sheep farmer retorted. “Someone who’s gonna put you to bed when you’ve overdone it. Someone who’s gonna mind Flora when you’re working. Someone that you don’t have to prove anything to.“

Caroline looked up to Gillian as if she had only just noticed her sitting there. She reached out with her free hand, placed it at the base of Gillian’s neck that she could just about reach, and pulled her down. The sheep farmer yelped in surprise but didn’t protest when she landed on top of Caroline. There was a moment of stillness as both women seemed to contemplate the best way forward. It was Gillian who took the plunge. She leaned down and placed a loving, soft kiss on Caroline’s lips.

“Gillian…“ the headteacher whispered, looking up at her in awe.

“You need to sleep, you’re becoming delirious,“ the sheep farmer grinned and pushed herself up, pleased with the effect she seemed to have on the other woman.

“Will you stay?“ Caroline asked in a small voice, her hand wrapping around her arm.

“Well, someone has to make sure you don’t succumb to your self-inflicted wounds…“ Gillian sighed theatrically and kicked off her shoes so she could get into bed properly. “Might as well be the dopey sheep farmer from round the corner, eh?“ She wrapped her arms around Caroline who hummed in exhausted agreement:

“Now, that would be defying expectations…“

“Wouldn’t it just,“ Gillian chuckled and placed a loving kiss between her shoulder blades, just to find the headteacher had already fallen asleep.

[riversofmars]

Here we go with Day 2!

Whumptober Day 2: “Talking is overrated"

Fandom: Happy Valley + Collateral

Ship: Catherine Cawood/Jane Oliver

Rating: G

Summary: Catherine has had a shitty week at work and she visits her daughter's grave for some peace and quiet. The trip turns out more interesting than expected when she realises Sowerby Bridge has a new vicar.

Talking Is Overrated

Catherine dropped onto the grass in front of Becky’s grave. The grass was damp but at least it wasn’t raining anymore and her heavy-duty uniform trousers should be alright for a while. She took a deep breath and rested her head against hands, looking across to her daughter’s grave. It had been an exceptionally shit week. She had come straight from work as she often did these days. Whenever things threatened to get on top of her and she couldn’t face her obligations at home just yet, she took a breather and visited her daughter. It wasn’t comfort as such, not when it served to remind her of her own failings, but it was what she needed.

“Sergeant Cawood, isn’t it?“ A voice pulled Catherine out of her thoughts and she looked up, surprised. People don’t usually talk to you when you’re visiting a grave and Catherine considered herself even less approachable than most. And yet: a short, middle-aged woman came to stand beside her, glancing at Becky's grave briefly. Catherine didn’t recognise her but the white dog collar gave her profession away, if not her name.

“Reverend…“ Catherine said, her voice non-committal as she looked up at her for a moment. “Didn't realise we had a new vicar…“ She averted her eyes and focused on her daughter’s grave instead. “You have me at a disadvantage.“

“Jane Oliver,“ the vicar responded and Catherine found herself nodding in acknowledgement.

“How come you know who I am? We didn’t have a drunken fling that I don’t remember, or anything?“ The police sergeant chuckled though joylessly.

“Nah, I’d like to think that’s not something you’d forget about,“ the vicar retorted and Catherine looked up at her, impressed by the quick comeback. “Lucky guess,“ Jane carried on to clarify with a kind smile. She touched her hand to the stripes on Catherine’s shoulder. “Sergeant stripes and…“ She gestured to the grave and Catherine huffed.

“Right…“

“But I’ve also seen your picture in the paper. Queen’s Police Medal for Bravery?“ The vicar added and clasped her hands in front of her.

“That was a while ago,“ she hummed. Jane Oliver wasn’t an imposing figure and Catherine surprised herself in the fact that she hadn’t told her to do one yet. Perhaps it was a vain attempt at not pissing everyone off the moment they first met her. She did wish she would state her business though or at least sit down; she was making her nervous by hovering. “Are you just going to stand there?“

“Might have done a bit of research about this place before I came here. I wanted to know what sort of community I was coming into,“ Jane carried on and knelt down next to Catherine. The policewoman watched her for a moment, surprised that that was her reaction to her question.

“Shitty one, I’d say,“ Catherine answered at last and returned her attention to her daughter’s grave. The last few weeks had been rough… no, last few years , Catherine corrected herself. Since Becky’s death, everything in life had become a struggle. There had been ups and downs but her most recent downs, her experiences with Tommy Lee Royce, the influence he continued to have over her life and the damage he had done continued like a never ending valley of dread and despair. These days, she was barely coping.

“Things are not exactly easy around here, are they,“ Jane commented though without judgement in her soft melodic voice.

“That’s one way of putting it…“ Catherine gave a bitter sort of laugh as she contemplated the state of Calder Valley. “How do we compare?“

“Hm?“ Jane glanced over to her questioningly, a frown knitting her brow.

“To where you were before, surely this is not your first parish?“ The sergeant clarified.

“About average,“ Jane replied and Catherine huffed:

“Really…“

“Shitty end of average but average nonetheless, sadly…“ the vicar confirmed with a thoughtful nod.

“So where were you before?“ Catherine had already placed her accent as London but she thought it polite to ask anyway.

“Central London,“ came the prompt confirmation.

“You’ll be laughing at our small city problems then,“ Catherine mused.

“Not a laughing matter,“ Jane retorted sincerely and the calm comment cut deeper than the policewoman had anticipated. Things were bad in the Valley. When a copper had been identified as a killer, right under Catherine’s nose, she had lost what little hope she had for this place.

“Yeah I suppose it’s not…“ she mused. “But if you don’t laugh about it, you’d just be crying all the time…“

Silence fell. It wasn’t unpleasant but it wasn’t exactly light either.

“You know we can… talk,“ the vicar said at last, shooting her a glance.

“Thought we were talking…“ Catherine huffed in response and Jane chuckled:

“You know what I mean.“

“Talking is overrated…“

“Or I can just sit here,“ Jane offered, she shifted, sat down properly and crossed her legs to sit more comfortably. Catherine caught sight of her trousers and shoes. A priest in jeans and converse? She was bemused.

“Have you not got anything better to do?“ She asked and refrained from commenting on her choice of attire, though she couldn’t help but think that her jeans would soak through in the damp grass.

“Other than trying to support someone that looks like they could do with it? No, nothing better to do,“ Jane answered mildly.

“People are usually more scared of me,“ Catherine said, after brief consideration.

“Are they?“ Jane raised her eyebrows and despite her best police instincts, Catherine couldn’t tell whether she was genuinely surprised or that was something she already knew about her, too.

“Yeah, I’ve got a reputation,“ Catherine stated, figuring the priest might as well know what she’s letting herself in for.

“As someone who stands up for law and order. Don’t see anything wrong with that.“ Jane shrugged and again, her response surprised the policewoman. Reverend Oliver knew how to steer a conversation.

“You know you have quite the way with words, Reverend,“ Catherine hummed, realising she wouldn’t be able to get one over her that easily.

“Good,“ Jane smiled and it was most dazzling, warm and bright on a grey autumn day.

“And you’re not like any vicar I’ve ever met,“ Catherine decided to carry on.

“Good. Again.“ The vicar nodded approvingly. “Means you won’t measure me against my predecessor… or whatever else put you off the Church.“

“Is it that obvious,“ Catherine chuckled to herself. She was not only quick with words, she was observant too.

“It’s that look, when people see the collar, tells me everything I need to know,“ Jane answered, gesturing to the white plastic on her neck.

“And yet, you spoke to me,“ Catherine commented, a little impressed. She could only imagine what sort of face she had pulled upon realising her profession.

“I’m not scared off that easily,“ Jane stated lightly.

“The old vicar…“ Catherine took a deep breath and fixed her gaze to her daughter’s grave. “He told me suicide was a sin… that’s how Becky died, she…“ She paused for a moment and Jane didn’t jump in, she waited patiently. “She killed herself after some awful things happened to her… You can see why that might not exactly… prompt a positive response to the Church…“

“Miserable bastard…“ Jane huffed and Catherine nodded.

“That’s what I thought, too…“ The vicar’s words took a moment to sink in but when they did, Catherine’s head flew around: “Sorry, did I just hear you right? You called him a bastard? You’re a priest, you’re not meant to talk like that!“

“I like saying things how they are,“ Jane shrugged but a little smile betrayed her amusement at her reaction.

“Right, you really are not like any vicar I’ve ever met,“ Catherine laughed in disbelief. Then she extended her hand to her. “I’m Catherine by the way. Not Sergeant Cawood. I’m here to see me daughter, not make an arrest.“

“Jane,“ the vicar responded in kind and took her hand. “Though, I am the vicar here, this is my church, so I am at work, sorry,“ she added with a chuckle.

“Do you get time off work too or is it an all-day thing?“ Catherine surprised herself with the question.

“Depends on how you look at it. It’s a vocation, not a profession but I suspect you understand that very well yourself…“ Jane replied with ease and let go of her hand.

“Only, we could grab a drink if there ever were a time when neither one of us is on duty,“ Catherine gave a non-committal shrug. “I like knowing what’s going on on my patch.“

“Not completely off duty then,“ Jane gave back, her quick wit resurfacing and Catherine held up her hands defensively.

“Just thought it might be a good chance to talk.“

“I hear talking is overrated,“ the vicar hummed and Catherine shook her head to herself.

“Wise-arse,“ she chuckled and Jane feigned affront:

“Language!“

“You get to swear and I don’t?“ Catherine grinned, incredulous.

“Well, you insulted me, that was personal. I was just insulting my incompetent predecessor,“ Jane pointed out with a smile of her own. “But I suppose you could buy me dinner to make up for it.“

[riversofmars]

Really very random one for Day 18! I love imagining what happened in between The Traitor and Time's Horizon and I have this HC of Thirteen hiding away from the universe while coming to terms with the Timeless Child stuff, so here we are!

Prompt: Doctor's Visit

Fandom: Doctor Who

Characters: Liv Chenka & Thirteenth Doctor

Rating: G

Summary: In order to join the Ides Institute's Orpheus mission, Liv is required to provide a clear bill of health. As any official exam would have flagged up her poor medical condition, she seeks out a physician-for-hire in an unsavoury part of the Frontier Colonies.

Doctor's Visit

Liv checked the address on the piece of paper she was holding and compared it to the one of the uninviting shack she found herself in front of. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to find. The slums of the Frontier Colonies were notorious and under different circumstances, she wouldn’t have ventured this far off the beaten track. Unfortunately, she had run out of other options, so here she was.

The Ides Institute had insisted on a health report - from a doctor other than Liv herself - to attest to her health, to confirm that she was fit for service... but of course she wasn’t; she was dying. Eight months in the bowls of an isotope carrier had shredded her metabolism and given her Theta ray poisoning. While the effects weren’t necessarily visible, the condition was terminal. Liv had no way of knowing how much longer she had. That sort of radiation poisoning was unpredictable, her body could give out at any time. Regardless, she had no intention of dying here, in the backend of beyond. She didn’t want to spend what little time she had left around people that knew who she was or in fear of the Daleks catching up with her. No. She had to get away.

The science vessel Orpheus would be a perfect escape: a one way trip to the end of the universe. What did she have to lose? She might as well try and see something before she kicked it. She could be sure her past wouldn’t catch up with her there. Of course she hadn’t shared any of her motivations with the Ides Institute. As far as they were concerned, she was a brilliant med-tech and well-qualified for the mission. They were interested in having her, all she needed was a clean bill of health. In her own medical opinion, her condition was compatible with cryogenic sleep so all in all she deemed it a risk worth taking. She just needed a doctor to sign her off.

She knew that in the Frontier Colonies anything could be accomplished at the right price so she had asked around. Now, she found herself in front of a shack that supposedly belonged to a doctor that should be able to help her.

“Let’s do this then…“ Liv mumbled to herself, checking the inside pockets of her coat one last time: blaster pistol and a wad of credits, whichever way the conversation went she would be prepared. She stepped forward and knocked on the door.

“It’s open!“ A female voice called and slowly Liv pushed on the door that gave way easily.

Liv took a deep breath, preparing to state her business, but she lost her train of thought when she stepped inside the hut. The place looked nothing like any doctor’s practice Liv had ever seen before. It resembled, perhaps, an alchemist’s den. There were herbs hanging down from a wooden beam, jars of mysterious contents on high shelves. In stark contrast there was a workstation that donned advanced medical equipment. All sorts of artefacts that she couldn’t place were scattered around. It was a lot to take in.

“Hiya!“ The owner of the voice appeared far less threatening than Liv had feared on her way here. “I’m the Doctor, how can I help?“ She was a petite woman with short blonde hair. Her clothes were colourful, her smile bright. Not exactly what she had expected of a dodgy physician who offered medical services for credits.

“The Doctor?“ Liv echoed, a painful memory resurfacing immediately. The last person she had met by that name she still cursed, even nine months later. The Doctor was the reason she was here. Life on Nixyce VII had been dreadful, barely surviving under Dalek occupation, but she almost longed for the simplicity of it now. If she hadn’t met the Doctor, things would have remained bearable, but following the Doctor’s interference, there was no way Liv could have stayed. The Daleks had set out to teach them a lesson, to break them, to draw every last bit of hope from the population so they would never dare to rise up again. And at the same time, the people had turned their backs on Liv, refusing to accept her help, united in their view of her as the Traitor. The terrible thing was that Liv now believed them. The Doctor had made her an accomplice to his treachery. He had helped the Daleks. She couldn’t forgive him for that; and she couldn’t forgive herself either. So she had run away and here she was. How ironic to be reminded of that now.

“Yeah, just the Doctor,“ the woman carried on.

“Right, of course, no names…“ Liv nodded, accepting that it was just a coincidence.

“Is there something I can help you with?“ The Doctor asked, as she seemed to sense her hesitation.

“Yeah…“ Liv shook off her memories and focused on the task at hand. She reached into her bag and pulled out a data pad. “I was told you can help me with this.“ She held it out to her.

“Medical report?“ The blonde raised her eyebrows and examined the device. It was made of reinforced glass and displayed a document.

“Need a qualified doctor to sign it,“ Liv explained.

“Are the qualifications absolutely necessary?“ The Doctor asked sheepishly.

“I suppose not. Just so long as the Ives Institute accepts them,“ Liv replied. She didn’t care what sort of medical knowhow this doctor did or didn’t have. So long as they had the accreditation to get her into the Orpheus program, she wasn’t bothered.

“So you don’t want me to examine or heal you?“ The Doctor questioned and Liv gave a bitter laugh.

“Bit late for that,“ she retorted. She had made peace with the prospect of her death. She wasn’t about to let some random woman who may or may not be an actual medical doctor examine her.

“Right,“ the Doctor hummed, her expression surprisingly concerned, given the fact that they didn’t know each other.

“So are you gonna do it?“ Liv pressed on. She wanted to get things over and done with. She didn’t want to waste any time, especially when she didn’t know how much of it she had left. “I can pay you.“ She reached into her coat pocket in search of her credits.

“Ah no, don’t worry about that, you might need it,“ the blonde woman shook her head.

“I also need this report signed,“ Liv retorted, bewildered at the odd response. This was not how she had expected the business negotiations to go.

“I’ll get that done for you,“ the Doctor smiled and started swiping through the date pad, until she reached the confirmation screen. She pressed her hand to the surface, allowing her hand print to be recorded as a means of verification. Liv was surprised at the ease and confidence with which she did it. Her credentials seemed to be more genuine than Liv would have anticipated. “Is there anything else I can do for you?“ She smiled as she handed the pad over.

“You’ve just helped me massively, thanks,“ Liv was slightly stunned at how easy this process had been.

“I mean… are you okay?“ The Doctor tilted her head a little, looking the med-tech up and down.

“Course.“ Liv forced a smile.

“Something is weighing you down,“ the blonde observed, her voice concerned.

“Are you a soothsayer too?“ Liv joked to brush over her insecurity of wondering whether her emotional state was that obvious to everyone.

“Just an observation,“ the Doctor stated matter-of-factly. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, Liv. That’s why I’m here. Just… hiding away from the rest of the universe for a bit until… things make a little more sense I guess.“

“Do we know each other?“ Liv frowned as a weird sort of feeling came over her, like an odd sense of deja vu almost.

“Oh no.“ The other woman shook her head with a chuckle.

“Then how do you know my name?“ The med-tech frowned.

“It’s on the form,“ the Doctor shrugged and Liv couldn’t deny that.

“Right…“

“You’ll be fine, Liv, really, you will be.“ To Liv’s surprise, the Doctor reached out for her hand. It was a gesture that should have felt uncomfortable and invasive from a stranger and yet seemed oddly comforting and familiar. It only served to reinforce the hopelessness of her situation.

“I’m going to the end of the universe to die. One-way trip to where no-one knows me. Fine? Doesn’t really sound like it,“ Liv retorted, pulling her hand back.

“But it’s what you want?“ The Doctor asked.

“What I want, Doctor, is a different life. One where I can be the person I wanted to be. Not a disgraced shadow of…“ Liv broke off, laughing bitterly at how ridiculous the conversation was turning out to be. “Why am I even telling you this?“ She shook her head to herself. “I wanted to see the universe. Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to go and see the stars. Worked out so well…“

“I’m sure you will, Liv. In fact, I know you will,“ the Doctor took her hand again, holding it firmly this time, forcing Liv to look at her and pay attention to what she had to say: “You will see the universe and you will do impressive things and you will help people and people will want to be with you, you will have friends, you will have love, you will have… a life, after all this.“

“Are you a priest or something?“ Liv huffed but she couldn’t deny the uplifting effect her words had on her. She was wrong of course, with what little time she had left, most of those things were well out of the realms of possibility. She would, however, see the universe. Now that she had her medical records verified, she would be allowed to join the Orpheus and travel to the end of it. And that, at least, was something.

“No. Like you, I’m a doctor and I help people,“ the Doctor smiled.

“Thank you. You have… helped me… even if I don’t believe a word of what you just said,“ Liv managed a small smile and gave her hand a squeeze before they both let go.

“Guess you will just have to wait and see which one of us is right. Best of luck, Liv Chenka,“ the Doctor smiled. “See you soon.“