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laundrybiscuits · 5 months

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Found myself reading some old Inception fic and felt the urge to poke at an AU idea—I know ST fandom skews a little young, so I genuinely don’t know how many people will even get this. If there are Inception primers out there, I haven’t bothered to find them, so…you’re on your own, kids.

“Absolutely not. I do my own forges.” Eddie sweeps the file off the table and directly into the trashcan; admittedly, it’s not the most mature thing he’s ever done, but Henderson’s getting on his last goddamned nerve.

The little twerp has the fucking audacity to roll his eyes and groan, like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable. “I know this guy, don’t be a dick. He can do it. Don’t you wanna focus on your super special architect stuff?”

“What you and every other dumbass dilettante drowser don’t seem to grasp is that my architecture is alive, and I breathe life into it via my meticulously crafted characters. I create richly textured worlds, Henderson, and I populate them myself. That’s why I’m the best in the fucking business: because I understand that the people and the setting are one and the same, and I can handle both.”

“Eddie.” Henderson crouches to grab the file out of the trash, and smacks it back down on the table. “I’m running this team, and I’m saying I don’t want anything like what happened in Munich to ever happen again. Okay?”

“Low blow, kid,” snaps Eddie. “Munich wasn’t on me.”

“I know, jeez. I just…” Henderson takes a second to tap the loose sheets in the file back into place, then stands there with his lips pressed together like he’s keeping something in. After a moment, he just says, “This isn’t going to be Munich. Because Steve’s going to be here.”

———

It’s not Munich. It’s not Munich at all. It is the furthest fucking thing from Munich possible.

Eddie’s never had a job go that smoothly—and it’s not down to Henderson’s obsessive prep, because it should’ve been a slippery one. The kind of job that twisted partway through into something frustratingly unexpected, forcing them to improvise and take whatever half-win they could squeeze out of the mark’s subconscious while dodging completely unexpected security.

Instead, it’s so incredibly not-Munich that the client gives them a fucking bonus, and when was the last time that happened? The bonus is generous enough that Eddie’s share can cover a whole new safehouse in Melbourne, which should have been great news, something to celebrate, except for the absolutely unholy amount of smugness now radiating from Henderson.

Eddie avoids the I-told-you-so conversation as long as he can, but he can’t run forever.

“I told you so,” says Henderson, flopping unceremoniously into the dark wooden chair next to Eddie.

“This is a library, dude. Keep your fuckin’ voice down,” says Eddie, without much hope. He’d heard Henderson was supposed to be meeting up with Sinclair in Lima this week; so much for that intel.

Henderson waves a dismissive hand, gesturing vaguely at the domed skylight high overhead. “It’s not like a library library. It’s basically a museum.”

“The goddamn State Library of Victoria is absolutely one hundred percent a library library, genius. See all the books? But also, do you think people go around yelling in museums?”

“Maybe they should! What we should be focusing on now, though, is that I was right about Steve, and I think it’s important for our working relationship that you acknowledge I was right.”

“I don’t have to acknowledge shit,” says Eddie, slumping down and ignoring the glares they’re starting to get from everyone in the atrium. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an egomaniac, kid? I don’t even get why you’re so hot on the guy, anyway. He’s like—the least imaginative forger I’ve ever met.”

It comes out a little harsher than he’d meant it. It’s just that forgers, as a people, tend to be easily swept into flights of fancy.

Eddie’s always sort of thought it was a requirement of the profession: when he’s inhabiting a character, part of his mind is always working to generate the little details that make them feel like a whole person. Their secret fears and even more secret hopes. How they deal with boredom or anger, what their gut reactions are. The small gaps between how they see themselves and how others see them. That’s where Eddie thrives, and he thinks that if he were less hooked on the magic of spinning up entire worlds for marks to wander through, he might forge full-time, just for the thrill of riding that uncertainty. It’s how he was taught, but clearly, Steve learned something different.

What Steve does isn’t really classical forging—not in the way Eddie thinks about it, usually. Steve just…walks into a situation, says some stuff, maybe gives the mark a smile all warm and private like a whispered secret. And then the mark folds. It’s maddening how easy Steve makes it look. Oh, he’ll pull on the right costumes and tweak his physicality a little, but it’s always still just Steve underneath.

Maybe that’s the trick. Eddie’s forges work because he crafts lavishly detailed lies; Steve’s forges work because there’s some kind of real, solid honesty at the core.

“I’m going to ignore the hurtful thing you just said because I know you hate to admit it when I’m right and you’re wrong,” Henderson informs him. “You really gotta work on that. More importantly, I’ve got a lead on a new job, and Steve already said yes.”

It’s not like Eddie needs the money. Henderson’s a nightmare to work with. And there’s the, y’know. The Steve Harrington of it all. Eddie has a million reasons to say no.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says instead. “When do we start?”

#not the start of a new thing! just a napkin scribble!#weirdly I think the most challenging part of writing this was shifting my core concept of the boys away from Just Some Guy #personally I'm not super drawn to rockstar or royalty AUs for them bc they're so intensely Just Some Guy to me #more specifically I find it fascinating how they deal with the absence of social validation in different ways #Inception AU

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rainymoodlet · 5 months

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Kiss Me in Komorebi+ 🌸

[ Second Vacation: Keaton! ]

I am fashionably late, as ever! For our second mini vacation, we have the charming Keaton Stratton by @duusheen! Now that I’ve actually played in Chestnut Ridge, I can tell ya - they have way rainier winters than they do snows! I wonder if our dear Bachelor can warm poor Keaton up? 👀

Part 1 of 6 🌹

#this was supposed to be up earlier but i didn’t time anything right before work fhfhd #ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 gameplay #ts4 challenge #ts4 bachelor challenge #sim: daniel #keaton stratton by duusheen #;kmik #||#i need everyone to look at keaton in this adorable turtleneck omg #he is SO CUTE and he was so nervous being alone with dan omg #these two got pretty flirty pretty quickly 👀 thats an autonomous embrace you see there #ngl folks i am so excited for these next few dates #bc they look fantastic and the next one-on-ones are only gonna look better!!#daniel finds keaton extremely attractive so this will definitely be interesting 👀#i’m always fascinated watching the romance and friendship bars go up #bc romantic interactions still add to friendly ones and there are some sims #that earn more points than others in either category 👀#oooOoOoOo #MORE KMIK FINALLY BACK ON TRACK WOOOOI #my grantitude post is still coming fhfhf tjol has lost out to chesnut ridge gameplay bwuh

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queenlucythevaliant · 8 months

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make your choice

Digory didn’t think much on making choices. The whole world would be over when his mother died anyhow.

Of course, this didn’t keep him from being curious or adventurous. It was exciting to meet new people, exciting to go exploring and to speculate about whatever mischief his Uncle Andrew was up to. Being a lively young boy was perhaps the best distraction from being a boy about to lose his mother.

Going after Polly was so obviously right that it might as well not have been a choice at all. What else could he do? It was easy to be righteous in the face of an evil old magician who said things like "Ours is a high and lonely destiny."

Yet once they were there in that rich, in-between place, with all the worlds there were splayed out before them— ((Make your choice, adventurous stranger)) Well. What sort of lively young boy would he be if he turned back now?

Digory could feel the bell’s magic ((strike the bell and bide the danger)) beginning to work on him. There was no use in resisting. He felt tendrils of magic sinking deep beneath his skin, laying claim to any free will he’d ever had. He said as much to Polly, but she wasn’t listening.

Polly said ((or wonder till it drives you mad)) that he looked exactly like his uncle when he said that.

Jadis’s whole world had ended. Everyone had died, and she’d just gone to sleep. She might have stayed sleeping forever if he hadn’t woken her. Sitting outside his mother’s sickroom, Digory wondered ((what would have followed if you had)) if that was really so shocking. Hadn’t he been preparing for just such an end? Were Charn and Mabel Kirke so different?

Narnia was not an end. It was a beginning.

And face to face with the Lion, Digory was forced to admit that the bell had not been magic. Nothing had caused him to strike it. Make your choice, the writing had said. Digory had chosen.

I’ve spoiled everything. There’s no chance of getting anything for mother now.

The enormous Lion asked him, "Son of Adam, are you ready to undo the wrong that you have done?" and Digory sputtered his maybes.

"I asked, are you ready?" the Lion said again.

At that very moment, an ultimatum flashed through Digory’s mind. If I salvage your beginning, will you prevent my end? If make amends, will you save my mother? He thought of refusing, of holding his choice hostage until his future was secure. Could the Lion be bargained with? Could Digory twist his arm, as he'd twisted Polly's?

But what Digory said was, "Yes."

Jadis conjured such lovely visions of the future. His mother's face would lose its gray sheen and she would say, Why, I'm beginning to feel stronger. There would be no more morphia, no more of the terrible drawn look about her when she slept. She would rise from her sickbed, vibrant and whole ((Come in by the gold gates or not at all)) rise and walk to the door and fling it open and then Digory would go running into her arms.

He gasped as though he'd been mortally wounded. Perhaps he had been in a way. After all, had the gate not said ((take my fruit for others or forbear))?

Jadis ((for those who steal and those who climb my wall)) called Digory the Lion's slave. Years later, he would think back over all that those words implied. The Witch seemed to think that Digory had no will, if he was willing to subordinate himself to Aslan.

But was it not Aslan who made Digory realize his own culpability ((shall find their heart's desire and find despair)), and in the same breath gave him a way to repair it? Had not Aslan given his will back to him?

And at the foot of the tree, Aslan gave Digory his future back as well.

He was old, but now he is young again, watching as the stars fall headlong across the black of the world-that-was. The world is ending at last, but Digory does not fear such things any longer.

#'let's get some half-finished stuff done and posted before the Inklings Challenge' challenge #i'm not 100% satisfied with this but I quite like all the concepts. we'll see #i actually have a bunch of these type of character study things from back in the day that i'd like to keep revisiting #anyway. i have always always always been fascinated by the writing on the bell #curiosity would totally be MY fatal flaw in a fairytale/myth so i can absolutely see where Digory is coming from #like of course he has to strike the bell. of course #but the way it gets frames in relation to Choice and Will and Responsibility is just really cool #a neat counterpoint to all the stories of those overcome by curiosity whom the narrative justifies #it was your fault. you need to own that #curiosity for its own sake is not inherantly a good thing #and then of course i can't write about Digory without pulling in the dymanic with his mom's impending death #that is by far the most compelling aspect of MN it is the linchpin of the whole thing #so yeah #founded in song #the magician's nephew no longer #narnia #leah stories #pontifications and creations

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infernalurge · 4 days

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it actually really amuses me when I see anons like "no one groomed Gale he's just a loser!" on the bg3fandom critical blog because I know that they know that if they said that with their whole chest in public they'd be mercilessly roasted by the whole fandom lmao

it's been discussed to death and the reasons for why most people say Gale was groomed are very clear. you are just wrong for no reason

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #I've noticed a lot of anons just spreading really popular/once popular opinions on that blog now too and it's become so boring #I feel like you should just be able to say that with your whole chest bruh and not hide behind an anon blog lmao #some people genuinely have interesting perspectives or controversial opinions and then #you have dopey the clown who just doesn't want their opinions challenged and knows they would be off-anon #blogs like that should be exclusive to opinions who actually have something to say tbh #there's been three of the same Gale-related anons that basically no one interacted with #and all in the same timeframe #it's just lameeee say it on your blog leave the vent blog for the free thinkers #this isn't asking for more moderation Idc what they do I'm just fascinated by this development #people just using the vent blog to say stuff that people have been saying for months anyway etc

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buckttommy · 1 month

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+++

#i've always thought the conversation surrounding consent re: Eddie has always been so dicey and tragic because he violates his own consent #constantly. it's a staple of his relationships at this point because whenever he enters into a romantic relationship with a woman he's just #going through the motions of what it means to be in that relationship—that includes sexually. so he's performing and he's fucking these #women but does he want to? as in. does he genuinely intrinsically WANT to? has he ever even genuinely paused to ask himself whether he wants #to have sex or is he just doing What He's Supposed To? anyway. i'm making this a tags post because this seems to be a private conversation #and i'm just throwing my thoughts on it lol. but this very thing was the reason why i wrote not a problem just a challenge like. eddie's #relationship with sex/his body is so deeply fascinating and so deeply tragic and even though a lot of it has been moved through/processed #thanks to trauma healing/unlearning/etc... until he touches the locked box that is his sexuality he will continue to use these women to harm #himself and that's. god. that's fucking sad. but anyways!#jack.txt #tv: 911 #eddie + consent #i think that was my tag

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horrorlesbians · 2 months

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first draft. but amma crellin supremacy

#🦌#she's so fascinating i need to study her #nothing about posting a screenshot online that makes you wanna rework half of the lines #td x so #she would so flirt with him and rust would want to crawl out of his skin. i think she'd like that more then men flirting back #the perversion and challenge of it. i think she'd enjoy it a lot.

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thesoupisburning · 4 months

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being ill apparently makes my sleep talking that much more understandable. so true sleepy glitzy.

[image text bc i dont wanna put it in alt]

my favorite part in slay the princess is when the slayer and the narrator talk and the slayer asks why a princess and the narrator admits that he didmt actually decide that, the slayer did, and he starts theorizing why they came up with a princess, then delivers this gem of a line "i dunno i dont think its healthy for me to anthropomorphize you" [paraphrased] my. my brother in christ. you created him

father of the year award silver metal standing next to william afton's gold

king of being a hypocrite

#slay the princess #ive been on a kick huh #sorry for the fnaf mention. i will do it again #narrator slay the princess #tell me im wrong i dare you i would love to talk about this #this guy is SO fascinating to me #soup shut up challenge

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h-worksrambles · 4 months

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"He's going to disappear again..."

For my first drawing of the new year, here's Riley and Griff from Dawntide, which is fast becoming one of my favourite furry visual novels. And in addition to its exquisite sense of atmosphere and intriguing characters, a huge part of that is the absolutely beautiful artwork. As such, I challenged myself to experiment with style by aiming for something closer to the visual novel's actual look.

#i'm so glad i finally drew something for this vn #and drawing in a new style was a really fun challenge #the dynamic between these two fascinates me and i'm thrilled to see more #riley dawntide #griff dawntide #dawntide vn #dawntide #furry #furry art #my art

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words-with-wren · 11 days

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@chrumblr-whumblr Day Nine: Mind Control

Fandom: Doctor Who (Second Doctor era) Jamie and music is something I want to explore more and this is NOT that but. its a bit of that.

Word count: 2,361

There was music in his mind.

It was a haunting echo, the sound of pipes blaring over the moor, the sound of home. Filling his mind, reminding him of his childhood, reminding him of standing on a windswept hill, lungs filled with air as he gripped the bag of his pipes in his arms.

There was music in his mind.

It filled his thoughts, blocking out everything except the sound of the music. He wouldn’t be able to say what the tune was, or replicate it himself, but he knew he was music and he knew it was all he ever wanted to listen to. Nothing else really mattered, beyond the music in his mind.

Dimly, he was aware he was standing in a large, jagged cave. It was lit only by glowing stones, purple and blue light bathing the whole cavern in a strange aura. A small lake filled one side of the cave, the water reflecting purple and blue, more glowing stones under its surface.

But the music made it all seem dull and lifeless, unimportant. All that mattered were the sounds in his mind, the songs that reminded him of home and hearth.

There were also two people in the cavern with him. One of them was sitting on a rock, a short little man with his legs crossed, holding a small, straight blue and white stripped tube in one hand. The other was a small girl, crouched at the edge of the rippling water.

They were unimportant, for now. Not while he was listening to the music, the music that filled him completely and wiped away everything that hurt and pained him. Nothing mattered except the music.

Then the girl stepped into the water, and the music in his mind shifted. A keening call, a shout for war, a war cry echoing over the moors. He started, sharp pain flashing through his mind. She was not allowed in the water.

She stepped further in, clearly intending to fully submerge herself. The small man called something to her, but the music drowned out everything he might have said. She paused, and responded over her shoulder.

The music roared again and spurred him into action. She was not allowed to go into the water. She was not to come close to the source.

He stepped forward, not hesitating to march into the water, music drowning out every other sound. He grabbed the girl by her collar and hauled her back--and this time her yelp of surprise broke through the music. That irritated him more--how dare she try to reach the source and then break through the music that was everything? That would not do.

It didn’t take much to life her, pulled her fully out of the water, and fling her back into the shore. She skidded, rolling instinctively onto her side and came to a rest near where the small man was sitting.

The man leapt to his feet, his mouth shaping the sounds of a name. He knew that name. Jamie. That was his name.

But it didn’t break through the music and that was satisfying enough. He stood in the shallows of the water and closed his eyes, feeling the water wash over his bare legs, hearing the music fill his very soul. This was all he needed.

Jamie.

The name came again, this time breaking through the songs of his home. He had been called Jamie there, and he was still called Jamie.

Why couldn’t he remember their names?

The thought caused him to open his eyes again, and he saw the little man crouching beside the girl, both of them looking back at him. For a moment, the music seemed to quiet in his mind.

He should know them. Why didn’t he know them?

He was scared, he realised. His heart was beating fast, faster than the tempo of the song. He was scared, and he didn’t know why. They couldn’t hurt him--they were an old man and a wee girl.

The music increased in volume and he shuddered momentarily, before it washed completely over him and filled his mind again. Pipes on the horizon. Voices raised in song. The sounds of home. He relaxed, feeling the fear drain from his body.

The man was standing now, the girl still half lying on the ground, propped up on a rock. Her hand was pressed to the back of her head and… was she bleeding?

The music seemed to falter. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, he just needed her to know she wasn’t to go into the water. Wasn’t to go near the source. It wasn’t his fault she was hurt, he decided. She had chosen to go into the water.

The little man was talking. Not enough to break through the music of course, nothing could do that. But it was fascinating to watch him talk, nonetheless. He was animated, stepping forward steadily, clearly trying to appeal to him about something.

Something unimportant. Something that couldn’t match with the song in his mind.

Then the man stepped into the water and the music roared a battle cry. He didn’t hesitate, stepping forward to shove the man. He stumbled back easily enough, out of the water and the music sung another song.

Then the battlecry screamed again, frantic and desperate and he turned, seeing the girl diving under water. What was she doing?

He hurried after her, music screaming in his mind. That was too far--she was an enemy. He hadn’t meant to hurt her the first time, but they had both crossed a line now. The music was a battlecry, a war song, a dirge for blood.

He grabbed her by the hair and hauled her back, pulling her to the surface. She gasped, kicking at him and grabbing his hand but he was far stronger than her. Methodically, hearing the swelling of the music, he shoved her face under the water.

If she wanted to be near the source so badly, she could stay there.

He could feel her struggling against him, beating his arm, kicking at his legs. But it was merely an added beat to the song in his mind. A single annoyance, inconsistency, a--

A shrill, screeching noise shattered through his mind and he stumbled back, pressing his hands to his head. The music was interrupted just for a moment and Jamie gasped, head instantly splitting.

For a moment, all he could hear was that shrill whistle, piecing through the music. Then the music raised in tempo and noise, pounding at his head. Jamie dropped to a knee, water up to his chest, hands pressed to his head.

He couldn’t think. It was just noise. Noise noise noise. The music sang, the whistle shrieked at him again.

“Jamie,” someone was calling his name. He looked up, eyes blurred with tears of pain. Zoe was floating in the water, the Doctor was running through the water towards her, recorder to his lips.

That was wrong. The music beat the war drums again, and Jamie tried to raise himself to his feet, but the Doctor blew hard into his recorder and Jamie had to drop to his knees again.

He gasped, breathing, hands pressed to the sides of his heads. The music was sounding less and less like home and more like something evil.

“No,” he whispered as it sang at him again, roared soothing lies. “I wilnae listen to you.”

He staggered to his feet, only winching as the Doctor blew into his recorder again. He had reached Zoe, turned her onto her back, and was dragged her out, watching Jamie warily.

“Fight it Jamie,” he called.

Zoe was on her back, motionless in the water. Jamie found himself rooted to the spot, remembering the feeling of her hair in his hands, of how easy it had been to hold her under the water.

The music sang again, a soft, soothing tune this time. A melody that told him everything was okay, he could just relax into it and forget the horror of what he had done to his friends.

“Doctor!” he called, frantic, eyes wild. He could not let it take hold again, he’d prefer the headache to that emotionless detachment. He hadn’t even recognised her.

The Doctor blew into his recorder again and Jamie cried out, stumbling a few places towards the shore, curling his hands into his hair. He was fully crying, whether out of pain or fear or guilt he wasn’t sure.

The Doctor had pulled Zoe to the shore now, and was gently patting her face, continually glancing up to look at Jamie. He couldn't bring himself to move yet, still drawn by the haunting peacefulness the song promised him.

For a moment, he considered diving into the water behind him. He could find the source, become one with it. Listen to that music always.

“Jamie, listen to me,” the Doctor’s voice broke through, faint at first, almost drowned out by the music. “You can fight this, you understand. Fight it!”

He was crouched over Zoe, hands on her chest and pumping up and down as he stared across the water at Jamie. She was so still. Her hands had done nothing as she fought against his grip.

“Doctor,” he called again, stepping forward. He didn’t miss the way the Doctor’s eyes darted to where his recorder was lying beside Zoe. “I dunnae mean-”

The music flared up again, and for a moment, he was standing on a hill in Scotland. The sky was clouded and grey, mist flowing around the moor, casting the whole scene in a strange light. But he was standing along side his clansmen, a part of them.

He lifted his pipes to his lips and drew in a deep breath, preparing to breath out again and fill the misty moors with the call to battle. For to battle he would go--he could already hear the other pipers blaring out their songs and in a moment, he would join them.

No.

No no no.

Zoe’s head under his hands. Water on his knees. The Doctor’s frantic face.

Zoe laughing as she teased him. The Doctor making a bad joke. Victoria’s smile. Ben slapping him on the shoulder with a friendly laugh. Polly grabbing him by the hand.

No.

He would not let it win.

He stumbled forward, dragging himself out of the water and collapsing onto the dry stone. It was coarse and rough, sharp stones digging into his knees and shoulders as he lay on the ground.

Zoe was coughing violently nearby.

The music was gone.

He pushed himself to shaky hands and knees, breathing deeply, not having the strength to push himself up fully. His head was splitting with pain and he shut his eyes against it, for now just trying to breathe.

“Jamie?”

A hand touched his shoulder and he shuddered a gasp, turning his head to see the Doctor standing over him.

“Aye?” he said roughly, feeling utterly worn out. Then he pushed himself to his knees, head spinning. “Zoe?”

“She’s alright,” the Doctor said. Jamie turned his head fully to see her sitting up, knees tucked into her chest. She offered him a shaky smile. “Are you?”

“Aye. I - it’s gone now.” His head felt empty, empty and large, like an entire planet could fit inside. “Zoe I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “I’m alright.”

“You nearly weren’t,” Jamie said softly. He leaned back, pressing a hand to his head.

“I think we had best get away from here,” the Doctor said. Jamie nodded quickly, then regretted it immediately as his head spun violently.

He was a little unsteady and needed the Doctor’s help to scramble to his feet. Then he refused to move until he was sure Zoe really was alright. She seemed to be more alright than he was.

They reached the TARDIS easily enough, tucked away in a corner of the cavern, and Jamie felt himself relax fully as he entered the familiar white room. The background hum of the ship drove out the last of his fears of the music returning.

He sank to sit against the wall of the TARDIS as the Doctor began bustling around the console. Zoe came to sit beside him, still wet, still looking very pale.

“Are ye sure you’re alright?” Jamie asked. She nodded, then placed a hand on his arm.

“I really am, Jamie,” she said. “But don’t ever do that again.”

“I don’t intend to.” He leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling of the TARDIS.

“I heard it as well,” Zoe admitted. “Some kind of music… in my mind. I thought it was from the water. That’s why I wanted to take some readings.”

“Aye, the source was underwater,” Jamie confirmed, looking back at her. “I dunnae what it was. Just that it didn’t want you in the water.”

Zoe shuddered, lifting her hand off Jamie’s arm to wipe wet hair out of her face.

“Why didn’t it effect me?” she asked.

“Jamie’s much more in tune with music,” the Doctor explained. “I imagine it wasn’t seen as much value for your schooling?” When Zoe shook her head in confirmation, the Doctor nodded in satisfaction. “Jamie’s training as a piper means music is an important part of him--and I imagine it reminded him of home?” “Aye,” Jamie confirmed. “I heard the pipes.” His voice was wistful as he spoke, remembering home. He didn’t think about it often, not while there was so much else to do and see and experience in his travels. But when he did, it was with a bittersweet ache. He loved his home, loved his people, loved his country. He had fought for it and would die for it and sometimes it felt like a betrayal to have abandoned his home.

But he wouldn’t give up traveling with the Doctor for anything.

“Well, it’s a very good thing I brought my recorder along today,” the Doctor said, an impish grin on his face. Jamie groaned and leaned his head back again, shutting his eyes and Zoe laughed.

This was going to make him so insufferable.

#wren writes #doctor who #classic doctor who #second doctor #jamie mccrimmon #zoe heriot #chrumblr whumblr challenge #mind control #*I* am not a musical person #so writing it isn't the easiest #but Jamie being SUPER musical is such a dear headcanon to me #i think he would love learning about future music #i think he would be absolutely fascinated by alien music #I think he would collect alien instruments even if he didn't know how to play them #I think music is so so important to him and i thats a headcanon hill i'll die on

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