#I know longtime followers already know what's up but I'm trying to get better at confidently Pitching this XD

[retellingthehobbit]

I’m making a webcomic adaptation of The Hobbit! It’s an epic cool passion project that incorporates as much of Tolkien’s prose as possible while also being my own take on the story, it features a variety of different art styles to represent the worlds of different characters in Middle Earth, it’s over 100 pages long already, the art/writing keeps gradually improving over time, and you should follow it! Like, comment, and subscribe! *dabs*

Okay I admit I’m awful at ‘marketing.’ But my point stands! Follow for queer Tookish antics over the Edge of the Wild. 

You can keep up by following me here at @retellingthehobbit on Tumblr. This blog posts a new 10ish-page-long chapter once a month (on the 13th), as well as assorted WIP art :3. The first chapter on tumblr is here. (I started out posting on my main @secretmellowblog, so the earlier chapters were posted there instead.) However, I personally recommend keeping up with the comic by bookmarking it on ao3 here or subscribing on Webtoon here. This keeps all the chapters neatly organized in one place, and also sends you an email notification whenever it updates, which is helpful because I don't update weekly :). I currently update monthly, on the thirteenth day of every month.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

#the hobbit #lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien #retelling the hobbit #art #webcomics #im larping as a confident cool artist #I know longtime followers already know what's up but I'm trying to get better at confidently Pitching this XD #but yeah! theres lots of previews of unpublished chapters in here. and my arts improving a lot in those #i was drawing chapter 15 and was like 'wow my art is totally getting sexier' #'i actually feel confident enough to advertise this comic now' #i cant wait to post chapter 15 hehe >:3333 #not to be arrogant but I feel im producing some bangers #i mean like. bangers relative to my old artwork #so sad i have to Wait to post them XD #curse the update schedule that I myself created #anyway thank you to longtime followers for dealin with this #spoilers #preview #not chapters #long post

[skynapple]

Budding Romance | Ch. 7

Love and Deepspace | Jeremiah x MC / slow-burn / friends-to-lovers

warnings: none

Multi-chapter | A03 link

Beginning | <- Prev | Next ->

A new day, a new dead plant

The morning air was crisp and fresh, the summer sun already warming the earth to a slightly uncomfortable temperature by the time most of the world was awake. It never ceased to amaze him how drastic the earths temperatures could be throughout the year. It always made him long for the carefree summers of his youth on Philos, running through warm tall grasses with not a wanderer in sight. 

Despite his sunglasses, the sun already felt too bright. Especially with the dark backpack he wore, perspiration had begun on his back through his thin white shirt, only making him more uncomfortable as he stood outside her apartment complex. The flowers in the planters surrounding the building already looked sorely parched, and added to the dizzying scent of summer smells as the last of the morning evaporated away. A few thoughts came to mind. One, that he should have remembered to get a haircut, two, that despite their agreed upon time, she was late. A strange sensation of humor tickled his brain, knowing that the woman he had known had always been exceptionally punctual.

Another minute passed and finally she texted to indicate that the front gate was open for him. He passed through, and headed up the familiar elevator. Although she was a floor beneath Xavier, the layout in the hall was identical. Since she and Xavier were neighbors, it wasn’t his first time at the complex, but it was his first time without Xavier’s knowledge of him being there. At first he’d felt inclined to let him know he’d be stopping by, but thought better of it. It was an interesting coincidence to him that she was quite literally the exact apartment beneath her fellow hunter. He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it was too coincidental… then again, despite Xavier’s patient way of calculating things, Jeremiah had noticed that things just tended to just happen in the mans favor. 

The door swung open and he couldn’t help but smile at her overtly enthusiastic greeting.

”Hello, sir! Welcome to my humble abode! Thanks for coming.”

He’d never known her to be one for theatrics, it made him want to laugh. The pink over-all dress she wore with soft white chiffon sleeves was mostly modest in appearance, although seeing her so casual and cute made him feel like maybe he was seeing a side of her that he wasn’t supposed to. And also that it could be more teasing fuel against Xavier later.

As he followed her inside, she offered him common hospitalities, which he gently refused, suddenly not wanting to invade her space too much. While he had felt comfortable and informal with her, he realized that he just wasn’t a part of her life. This was an acquaintance-in-her-home-for-a-quick-assist thing. Not a longtime-friend-hangout thing. The backpack he brought was set at his feet, grateful for the cool of the air conditioning inside. He spared a glance around, trying not to be too invasive, although, feeling exceptionally curious about what type of person she’d become here. It was a different layout than Xavier’s, neat, with plenty of feminine touches here and there. Scattered around were a few familiar plants and florals. It felt surreal to be there.

Almost as if she picked up on the mental “business” attitude, she retrieved her ailing succulent and set it on the thin kitchen bar in front of him.  “See!” She indicated, incredulous. “I barely water it. I feel like a succulent should be pretty hard to kill. Am I just that bad at this?”

Taking it, he examined it, humming in thought, albeit a bit amused. In fact, there was not a single thing he had known her to ever be bad at. Ever. To realize she had such an anti-green thumb was almost…endearing. "How often are you watering it?” He asked.

"Let's see... probably once every 3 days? I know I'm not supposed to water it every day."

"I see. And where do you normally put it?"

She lead him around, stepping into her room. It was one thing to be in her home, and another to be in the very room she slept. Whatever he had imagined the day before, he was not prepared to be stepping inside. A fluffy carpet caught his eye and a few glittering objects. The cuteness of all of it left him in awe. The brilliant commander he’d known, with soft feminine touches. He wondered if she was like this all along, secretly. Then again, it wasn’t as if they had opportunities to let their objective personalities be on display very much in matching uniforms during a war. 

Moving a little awkwardly, he followed her to the window next to her bed, where he asked her a few questions about the angle of the sun throughout the day and the draft from the air conditioning, take his time in explaining that despite the window being closed, the heat would still radiate inside from the glass. She seemed to listen eagerly, but he felt the urge to tease that it wouldn’t last despite her efforts. 

“You say you’re paying attention but I saw the other dying plants around your living room. Shall I start writing a eulogy for your succulent soon?”

“What? Not fair! Let me show you my pothos. I promise it’s doing so much better ever since I started following your instructions!” She exclaimed, guiding him back through her room to the kitchen area where she picked up the leafy pothos. It was admittedly doing much better than the last time he’d seen it.

“Alright, I guess someone can follow instructions.”

For some reason, she beamed up at him proudly. “Yes! I’ll keep getting better.”

He took another glance around, laughing internally at the sight of more dying plants next to her television set. Just then he noticed the absence of a rather large object.

“Where exactly did you put your prize from last night? I didn’t see if in your room.”

“Oh! This way. It’s on the balcony."

He followed her outside to her balcony, noting that it was decently spacious, enough for a pair of seats, a small table, a few plants, and a large plush toy with two significantly smaller plush toys posed in front of it. He fleetingly wondered if this is where she and Xavier spent days off.

“So I see it’s found its home here.”

"Yeah! And those are its siblings, the matching set. Xavier helped me catch those actually from the claw machine at the arcade by the complex."

Ah, so they are meeting outside of work. Good.

“Really?” He remarked, trying to sound surprised. “I didn't know he had it in him."

“Actually,” She laughed leaning against the wall against the balcony. “He has a whole book on how to win at claw machines."

Jeremiah laughed, trying to think of how best to spur her interest further. "He has a whole host of strange books. He’s an interesting fellow. Which, I’m sure you'll find the more you get to know him.”

The breeze picked up, carrying her hair and a light fruity scent with it. It was a welcome relief from the warmer weather outside. Throughout his fragmented memories, there wasn’t a time he could recall where he noted her wearing scented fragrance, except, probably for a special occasion. 

“Ah, speaking of books, I brought you something."

"You brought me something?” She asked, interest piqued. 

He slipped inside and retrieved a book from the backpack he’d brought, grinning at the title. A quick glance at the time told him he shouldn’t overstay what was supposed to be a quick bout of assistance. Just like before, he had to tell himself not to get too comfortable. 

Returning to the balcony, he slid the door shut behind him, and handed her the book. ‘How to Keep Plants Alive: For Dummies.’

She made a face, wrinkling her nose at him but laughed. "Jeremiah!"

The familiar tone was the one he missed the most. It was the voice he heard most often, right after teasing her. The tone was familiar but the expression was new. Normally, it had been of irritation along with a usual punch in the arm. It didn't come. Whether is was the warm weather or from the gesture of receiving such a gimmicky book, her cheeks were lightly tinted pink to match her dress.

"I'm not that bad, am I?” She was saying in despair.

"Worst I've seen. Of alllllll my customers, you're the most murderous.” As he saw her expression of helplessness, yet alight with humor, he continued teasing. "You're lucky your plants have me. Look at them! You’ve given them anxiety."

Now she bit her lip to stifle a laugh and did thwack him in the arm. He laughed, pulling away and putting his arms up to block his chest as if expecting another hit. It may have been the heightened sun, but he did feel warm inside. 

“I’ll study and do better!” She whined.

“You just need to master the basics! Pay attention to the water and light. Keep an eye on the AC drafts. You’ll get it. I think your succulent will survive, they’re pretty resilient.” He comforted, in contrast to his words earlier, only able to handle teasing her so much before caving to her tone, having been totally caught off guard by how earnest she sounded. “But," He continued, indicating behind him towards the living room on the other side of the wall. “That drooping plant by your TV? That one has a disease.”

“A disease?” she asked in disbelief.“Now I know you're making things up. How can you tell?!”

"I'm not!" He took the book from her hands, opened it, flipped to a section, then handed it to her. "Check that out."

“Oh…” She said in awe, examining the pages in shock

“See the health suggestions?” He leaned over, a little closer to her than intended “I think you can save it. I carry that stuff in my shop. It says if you spray it at least once a day, you can probably bring it back.”

Just then the doorbell rang. Jeremiah felt his shoulders tense.

"Oh, sorry, might be a package.” She left to answer the door and he could’ve sworn her cheeks had turned an even darker shade of pink. 

A minute later, a familiar voice inside told him everything he needed to know.

Time to go.

Stepping inside, he found himself face to face with his friend in a casual white hoodie, which he found ridiculous considering the weather.

"What a coincidence." Xavier said, his expressive eyes saying more than words could.

She explained to him animatedly that Xavier was stopping by to drop off a video game for her to try, in turn explained to Xavier Jeremiah’s reason for stopping by.

“I didn’t know we all had the same day off. We should do something!”

"Actually," Xavier said with a nod towards him, “Jeremiah, I thought you were usually busy with research on Saturdays?" 

Jeremiah drew a breath and went to pick up his backpack off the ground. “Sorry, he’s right! I was about to head out. My plant doctoring was all done anyways. But, you two have fun with that video game!”

“Oh,” She sounded disappointed, but he wasn’t sure if that’s just because she liked doing group activities? He couldn’t imagine why else. "Maybe one of these days you can take a Saturday off and we can all go have a fun night like we did yesterday.” She offered, smiling.

Xavier looked perplexed. ”Fun... night?"

He didn't know.

"Yeah!" She cuts in, excited. “Jeremiah helped me get the limited edition plush I was talking to you about!”

“Did he?” Xavier looked right at his eyes.

… Great.

Jeremiah took a step back, waving as if suddenly in a rush. 

“You really missed out, Xav. You two should go tonight. Anyways… I should really get going. See you!”

She called over to him, waving back, ”Sorry you were busy today. Thanks for stopping by!” Xavier was standing very close to her, a softer expression now.

Just like old times, Jeremiah knew when to take his leave. If merely hearing his voice from the balcony was enough to send Xavier running downstairs, then Jeremiah counted that as an entertaining win. All the more reason to continue teasing.

Despite telling himself this, he couldn't stop feeling a little regretful, if not disappointed. The feeling lingered in his heart as he headed back to his base hidden in the shop to get some work done. If the feeling was only a desire to be with his friends like old times, then he assumed there would be more opportunities in the future. What mattered was her proximity to Xavier. He tried to shrug it off.

If it mattered to see her, he’d have to find opportunities to somehow not be in the way when Xavier was around. The mere thought of it made him roll his eyes to himself on the bus.

#jeremiah x mc #lnds jeremiah #love and deepspace jeremiah #jeremiah love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #lnds fic #l&ds #l&ds jeremiah #l&ds mc #love and deepspace #lnds mc #love and deepspace mc #budding romance #madi writes

[sophieinwonderland]

Why do you only appreciate the perspective of Pro-Endos but refuse to listen to or have genuine, good-faith dialogue with anyone else who has different syscourse opinions? /Gen

(I’m Pro-Endo btw but I know communication and willingness to listen to differing opinions are important parts of discourse. Otherwise it makes the group sound like an echo chamber.)

By and large, I don't think most anti-endo takes are in good faith.

Just look at the manufactured controversy over the term endogenic. At no point before the coining of the term were "endogenic" or "endogenous" considered harmful words by the community. The disinformation about it coming from Freud wasn't made up until 2021, 7 years after endogenic was coined.

And it was, of course, made up by an anti-endo who didn't believe endogenic plurality existed and made their name screenshotting endogenic posts to mock and humiliate them.

From the very beginning, they were offended by the existence of the endogenic community. The nitpicks over the terms we use are just an excuse to be able to attacks us. The same goes for the hordes of anti-endos who aren't Tibetan Buddhists swearing up and down that the term tulpa is appropriation.

The language we use is the excuse people use to attack us and harm our community. But it's not their primary drive. And so addressing these types of arguments as if they're made in good faith isn't very helpful. It's like trying to cure the flu by taking a bunch of cough drops.

Another problem is that many anti-endos are indoctrinated into these anti-endo spaces. Many of their friends are anti-endos. They've formed social relationships built friend groups around shared hatred. A "hate group," if you will. You can't convince these people because they have social incentive to never change their minds.

And I think my longtime followers will remember that I used to engage in good faith dialogue with anti-endos much more often earlier on.

I suspect they'll also remember that it didn't really convince anyone I was speaking to. At least not usually. And often would result in me getting screamed at and personally attacked.

So here is what I'm doing instead... I'm writing them off.

I don't think it's impossible for anti-endos to change. A lot actually have, which is wonderful. But I don't think that's going to happen as a result of an internet argument.

If anti-endos don't want to be part of our plural community, I'm not going to force it on them.

Instead, I'm focusing my message on expanding and gaining support externally and solidifying what we already have.

I've decided that we don't need anti-endos. We don't need to convince them. We don't need to change their minds. We don't need to have a single united plural community. We just need to ensure that our plural community is more numerous and influential to the public than those spreading hate against us.

And on a more personal note, I also find myself in a position where I've gained a reputation. Most anti-endos hate me personally, and automatically dismiss any post I make as misinformation or look for reasons to invalidate any sources I share. Even more so than the average endogenic system.

It may not even be conscious on their part, but it's going to happen. Other people may be able to have better luck convincing them. But I know that I can't. It's beyond my ability.

Especially when there have been many cases where, when trying to talk to someone new, that person immediately gets an anon message seeking to poison the well, falsely accusing me of spreading misinformation and telling them not to listen to me.

So while I may frequently talk about anti-endos, I feel that talking to them is often counterproductive, and will most likely just cause them to double down further no matter what sources I can provide to back up what I'm saying.

#syscourse #pro endo #pro endogenic #endogenic #actually a system

[quartings]

Just a little negativity under the cut :(

It's already hard struggling to find a job out of college during this current climate. It's even tougher doing so while seeing tons of my more talented friends doing better in life than I am. And it's even more tough to keep going while said better friends are still harassed by their parents for not being good enough.

Like damn, I've spent years beating myself up wishing I could be at least half as good as your child. If you hate your children this much sir/ma'am, you might as well come over to my place and personally kill me for the sake of consistency, no? They're still not good enough for you, so what does that say about me? Of course, they won't do it because (certain) parents love other kids and only want to hate their own, for whatever reason.

To put into better context how I'm feeling, many longtime followers here would know about my Pokespe content. And don't get me wrong, I love making it, but it still makes me sad that such a good series still doesn't have nearly as much animated fan content as it should.

But it feels like I've only gotten this far because I'm the only one in my friend group who's decided to make Pokespe stuff. If any of my other friends realized how good the series is, how much more the fanbase deserves, and decided to make content for it, it would immediately blow my stuff out of the water. It would be so easy for them to do it, to help people who need it much better than I ever could. And I would be so happy if they did. Because not only would it be great for the fandom, it also means I can finally stop pushing myself with this charade and let go, now that my friends have finally made me redundant in every possible aspect.

It's mostly exhausting because even if I succeed at something, it's not because I'm good at it, it's just because my friends and other talented people just happened not to try doing that today.

#q speaks #negativity

[starsprlte]

✧♡• byf • ask • faq • main blog •✧♡✧• commissions • webcomic • yt •♡✧

click on the read more if you'd like to hear about what all goes on around here! (there will be more fun banners.)

AHH! WARN me before you click next time! geez!! freakin' scared me... welcome to my little cabin quarters aboard a ship that 'surfs' the web. i'm starsprLte, or just pay (if we're friends!)

i'm a digital artist! i also experiment with crayons and paper crafts. i may even post kandi projects i've made, from time-to-time! currently, i'm working on a webcomic called DREAMCAST. digital art tag (present): "#vapour.png" old digital art tag (2018 - 2022): "#liquid.png" traditional art tag (2021 - present): "#traditional art" crafts tag (2021 - present): "#craftz"

DREAMCAST is a webcomic that i've been writing since 2018, and started releasing pages for in 2019. it follows the story of ethan, a goat plushie, trying to save the plushies that mysteriously disappeared after a strange storm. it also features some... 'arg' elements, with hidden codes and secret pages to find! read DREAMCAST here! it's hosted on tumblr! it's got a way better 'about' section over there!

speaking of! i'm really interested in, and passionate about, webcomic creation. i curate a list of tips that i've accumulated over the years, for people interested in making their own webcomic. the kinda stuff i wish i'd known when i was starting, you know? it's by no means a complete list, and probably won't be for a long time. i'm always happy to answer any questions you might have about webcomic creation! :+) click here to read it!

aside from DREAMCAST, i have a whole plethora of original characters and story concepts that i hope to develop in the future! for all OC content, i use the tag "#seedpods". as for story-specific tags...

"#journalist's worst nightmare" - is about orion, his little sister iris, and their weird alien fratboy hikari! they go on cryptid hunts, trying to find ONE that'll consent to having a research paper written about them, to prove the existence of cryptids- and so orion has an impressive portfolio opener for college.

"#who killed finnegan finch?" - is about nina and finnegan. finnegan finch has died! now a ghost with only hazy memories of his life, he and nina are trying to figure out who killed him. in life, finnegan’s made a lot of enemies, so any one of them could’a done it! all he remembers is that nina is important to him... but how?

{the following stories are under construction, the content within their tags is outdated!} {because i haven't. worked on them. in a longtime}

"#retailiation" - is about toi, xavier, and kyra. three very different people, all working very different jobs. they get swallowed up by their places of work, and transported to a strange pocket dimension, where their true appearance is only revealed when they're display the emotion they try to hide the most.

"#kabloom" - is about wanderlust, roseate, analog, and iliad! everyone has a special power, with a pro... and a con. i have a lot of cleanup i need to do around this story (character redesigns...), so i can't exactly give a concise and snappy description of what it's about.

"pirates need toothbrushes" - is about crowell, a pirate from the past who fell through a wormhole to the modern day; denny, an eccentric and strange little dentist who collects teeth; and jan, a wannabe witch with a flying broom! everyone has an 'itembond', a specific item/category of item that they've used for so long, it's almost like an extension of oneself! this one's more slice of lifey, and mainly about what 3 different kinds of weirdo would get up to. there's a LOT more i could say about any one of these stories, but this post is so so so long already. this isn't even all of the story ideas i have, i just haven't posted the others on tumblr yet! ack!

again, all of these characters and descriptions are heavily subject to change whenever i sit down to actually start making them. the unyielding hands of time!

this is the stuff that most of my followers are here for- yes i put my OCs above the fanart section LOL. the fan content i post here mainly includes: pokémon, minecraft, undertale/deltarune, disco elysium, OFF, ace attorney (rare one!), 17776 (rare one!) HOWEVER. this is NOT the only fan content i will post. i'll post shit for fandoms i'm not even in, and will never post for again! i'm a loose cannon! you'll never guess my next step! wa-ha-ha! beholden unto no one but myself!

and that's about it. thanks for sticking around this far, happy blog browsing!

#pay.txt #fine. i'll make a pinned. #WARNING: it's long. press the J button on your keyboard if you decide you dont want to read all that

[hlmowrer]

Week 51: The end times are here, and they are heralded by white gloopy stuff

I just want to start off by saying I've had a very weird week and my email titles generally reflect that.  There will be no questions.

Anyway, hi!  I know the entire universe seems to have copious amounts of snow poured out upon their heads, so I'll refrain from too much commentary but MAN.  It is 8 degrees out and it took me like 30 minutes to excavate my car from the ice gloop.  My biggest takeaway is that snow makes just about everything take a lot longer.

Other than that, the week can best be divided in to two parts.

Part I consisted of a renewed effort on Elder Baird and I's behalf to start the transfer strong.  We spent about twice as long outside as we normally do and we did our best to always be out in public, even during some very dead hours.  Finding people to teach is hard for any missionary, and in a small town it can be very difficult to find any people in public at all.  So we are doing our best to figure out where the people are and be there, even if it's a place we can't directly proselytize.  We've also been taking better and better advantage of the evening hours when people are home and we can visit them before everyone starts hunkering down for the evening.  This week the work has been pretty unfruitful but we felt fairly satisfied with our effort.

The difficulty is that while we were pushing ourselves harder, we were wearing ourselves out just in time for crap to hit the fan.  Mid week we had a downturn in mental health for both of us, followed by me getting sick, followed by a very challenging lesson with a friend who is struggling to stay motivated, followed by one of our longtime friends dropping us, followed by snow making our vehicle unusable.  

So as a result Part II then consisted of taking it a little easier while we were stuck inside, and trying to recover and set up a productive week ahead.  We called people, made many plans, did some cleaning, made many foods that we seldom have time to make, and still did our best to bundle up and go proselytize to anyone we could walk to.  I'm honestly very grateful for the snow, because it broke things up a bit and allowed us to both take a beat and get properly prepared for what we want to do.  We probably needed to do that anyway, but making that determination as a missionary is hard so it was nice of the Lord to give us the external factor.

Tomorrow will be my halfway point as a missionary.  I've already reflected on this a lot over the last month, but it's neat that the official day is here.  Many things about this experience were not what I expected, both for better and for worse at times.  It has, however, been the most worthwhile thing I've ever done.  My Savior has always taken care of me, and this is how He is choosing to do it at this point in my life.  I'm proud of who I'm becoming, and I suppose that's enough to weather the bad days and put some extra shine on the good ones.

Stay warm, my friends. <3

-Elder Beren Mowrer

[admitdefeatimdone]

Some change to do part 2

I have to make some changes around

Firstly, I try to contact my long-time friend from the UK; she is always busy with life, especially her project work. It's fine for now.

Secondly, I have not met a high standard due to some things, a great blame goes to my so-called fan of mine who cut me off, blocked me, had to move to a new account and back up, but it is not over yet... Until I find a way to do the things like I once used to do back in early 2021, "not posting" and "interactive" to no one else on a new account, and I am following that footstep because I know I'm smart and know the ideas...

Firstly, my two longtime friends have bad dates. 1) and 2) the so-called fan that cut me off when I didn't do anything, and 3) my infamous ex-friend, who is still at it again for ripping off people's character OCs and still refusing to change her ways; everything else is everywhere else...

As I made the idea that I want to go back like early 2021, as good plan B,  I will be using my other account for promoting help, viewing, creation work, and so on into the Discord apps. So I know what I'm doing.

It has to stop from this point with people with whom I don't get along well due to various reasons; people don't see the real me; I try so hard to be sweet and nice to people; some things I don't comprehend are too great for people... Since I had to do what was best for me to start with two accounts, what was wrong for me? This has to stop for blocking and non-sense, for moving new accounts and things, because it is getting old and it is getting overdraft. Now I am doing what is best for me, which is not interactive or speaking to anyone else about a new account.

I hope that satisfied will save my energy.

To my previous account, I will do more posting and less doing like I usually do while I'm on the new account; it's already a big change.

I don't think online will get better anytime soon, and as people, ah well...

This is Julian signing off. I deserved so much more, having a lot of support and love, but I'm not appreciating it anymore from other people anymore because they do not know it "all" as a whole. If it comes around and goes around, what people will get tired of it and use it? Or maybe leave online. Most people have gone online and left for good. I dont wish for that.

I gotta go for real. I have my own worries to do.

[queen-pudi]

I Want You

Kyotani Kentaro x Reader 18+ MINORS DNI TW: sex, biting, teasing, uuhhhh I think that's it At the time of posting this, it is my birthday so therefore I have gifted myself this fic. I am such a giver 😪🤧 I hope you all enjoy this!

Masterlist

You were excited, to say the least Your birthday was in just a few hours and you had a party planned with all your favorite people. Nothing huge, just a little house party and a cake. You really didn't need anything too fancy. Honestly, if you had it your way you'd just be having a nice dinner with your longtime crush and best friend Kyotani. Ever since you went to a Seijoh game to support your friends' weird obsession with the setter you couldn't take your eyes off him. At first, you couldn't understand why he didn't have just as many fans as Oikawa. That was until he missed a set and went completely apeshit. That didn't stop you from doing everything in your power to be near him. At first, he thought you were an annoying first year with nothing better to do but get on his nerves. Yet over time, he grew to like your presence and often reached out to you more than you did him. He'd never admit it though. Afraid your head would somehow get bigger than it already was. All you wanted was him and 5 years later you're still just the annoying best friend. You didn't even want any huge gifts. Maybe some money and a few clothes here and there like usual but you really just wanted his love. You never really liked to share what you wanted and would rather be surprised. Even if it's something you've never even thought of having it's the idea that they took the time to think of you that makes it special. All your friends have been hounding you for days trying to get you to crack and share at least an Amazon wishlist. Right on cue, you receive a text from your friend Naomi not so subtly asking what your favorite color, food, clothing brand, music genre, and author was. I'm telling you id love and would use anything you get for me I know but that's not the point! I want to get you something that I know you want not just something I think you could possibly want. I'm not gonna stop texting you till you tell me You rolled your eyes at your friend's childish tactic. There was no way you'd spill the beans and besides that's what Do Not Disturb is for. However, it seems as though your friend was already 10 steps ahead She called your phone 12 times in a row before moving on to emailing you, before going back to calling and then even going as far as to message you on Instagram, Tik Tok, Twitter, hell even Wattpad Deciding enough was enough you decide to reply to her with a request you knew she'd never be able to pull off in a million years. You wanna know what I really want? I want Kyotani to come and fuck me until the clock hits 12 and my birthday is over. She soon went silent. Thinking that it was finally over you go to get something to eat before you hear the infamous ding of your phone Aight, bet You scoffed, there is no way in hell she would ever do that. That's not her place and besides, it's not like Kyotani sees you that way. You're the annoying 1st year that followed him around like a puppy up until your sophomore and junior year of college. You are nothing more than a pest to him and after a while, you grew to accept that and take what you can get from him. You went to bed that night still thinking of the exchange. While you were 95% sure it would never happen, that 5% still haunted you into staying up well past 2 am. ⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰ Waking up you were greeted with birthday messages and even a croissant and coffee from your favorite place all the way across town from your roommate. Scrolling through and replying to the messages you came across Kyotani's Happy birthday 🎂 Short, simple, and straight to the point just like him. It really wasn't much but it still was able to get your face burning at 100 degrees and a

smile unable to leave your face Thank you, Kyo!💛✨ Don't think that just cause it's your birthday ill let you call me that. You somehow found a way to smile even bigger than before. You knew that even if it wasn't your birthday you'd get away with it. Even if he never said it he valued you as a friend, especially for sticking around as long as you have. The rest of the day went by in a blur. You got ready, went to your party, drank, talked, opened some strange but beloved presents nonetheless and before you knew it it was over. Nothing really eventful happened but Kyotani was acting strange the whole day. I mean he's always strange but today he seemed… more jittery? Anytime you went to talk to him he'd immediately start talking to someone else or left to get food when he already had a plate. You thanked everyone for coming as they walked out the door. Shocked to see your own roommate leave as well "Hey, where you going?" You asked, head tilted with confusion "Oh, my boyfriend said his roommate is gone for the weekend so I'm gonna be with him for the night," They said, fidgeting about. "Oh ok well have fun and be safe!" You said, still confused but it's not like it wasn't a valid excuse. "I will! I hope you had a good birthday!" They replied. Halfway out the door, they turn around, a small smirk threatening to make its way onto their face. "I hope you thoroughly enjoy all of your presents" and with a wink, they leaped into the hallway and made their way to the elevator Now you were fully confused and worried. The way they were acting definitely means something was up but you can not figure out what. Deciding to let it go for now you go to greet your last 2 guests: Naomi and Kyotani. "Well this has been fun but I gotta go before I miss my train! Happy Birthday and I love you! Bye!" Naomi blurted out in a rush, hugging you quickly and then dashing out. Realizing it was just you and him all the pieces started to come together. Fuck, Naomi is so dead Deciding to play it cool you go to see Kyotani out, hoping to make a swift and firm exit. "Well, tonight's been fun! Thanks so much for coming, I know parties aren't really your thing" you said, nervousness laced in your tone yet you continued to fake your confidence. "It's getting late so you should probably get goi-" "I never gave you your present" you froze. This can go 1 of 2 ways and honestly you didn't know which one you wanted "Oh, it's fine! Don't worry about it" trying to get him out as fast as possible you lightly nudged him to the door, a hand rested on the doorknob ready to turn and push him out before you were pressed up against it. Your eyes looking everywhere but his. Unable to focus on anything except how his breath hit your face and good his cologne smelled. "I'd really rather give it to you now" he replied lowly, voice dangerously close to your ear as you tried everything in your power not to melt. "Look Kyotani I know Naomi told you to do this but you really don't have to if you don't wan-" before you could finish you felt a hand grip your chin before you felt a pair of soft lips meet yours. Too shocked to move you stood there until he pulled away, hand still holding your face, eyes staring deep into yours filled with a passion you've only ever seen when he was playing volleyball. "I don't care what she has to say, I want you" voice filled with lust and maybe even a bit of longing. His other hand had moved to your hip and slowly started to grip yours as his knee inched higher and higher between your legs. "Do you want me to?" He asked, to anyone else he would sound confident and cocky yet to you you knew that there was a level of hesitation and uncertainty that had your resolve melting on the spot Deciding it was now or never you flung your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a proper kiss. Putting everything you've been wanting to say but couldn't into it. It took no time for him to respond as he kissed you back with a drive you've never seen. Hoisting you up so your legs were wrapped around him as he

slightly ground into you. Without a word he moved you into the bedroom, lips never leaving yours as he made his way through. Finally, he dropped you onto the bed, eyes filled with lust as he bent down to attach his lips onto your neck. Hands traveled up to the zipper on the back of your dress, stopping right at the top before turning to you for one last confirmation that this is what you wanted "May I?" He asked, voice so close to your ear you felt a shiver through your whole body. "From here on out stop asking dumb questions and just fuck me" you moaned out. Hands reaching under his shirt to feel the same body you had been thinking about for 5 years. He chuckled before quickly removing the garment and throwing it across the room. Staring down at your now semi-naked body, only a pair of panties were in his way and that just wouldn't do. "Fucking gorgeous" he growled out before attacking your breasts, teasing them to the point where for a second you thought you'd cum from how much pleasure he was giving you. Soon after his hand trailed down to your thighs before finally reaching your panties. Stroking over top of them he could feel just how wet you were and he wanted to fuck you right then and there. Starting with a finger he pulled your panties to the side and dove in, pumping in and out at a slow pace before deciding to add another finger. You started grinding into his hand, moaning out his name like a pornstar yet you were too far gone to be ashamed. He picked up the pace resumed his sucking on your breasts, aiming to leave a hickey or 5. Mark you as his and only his. Not long after you came while borderline screaming out his name. Hands gripping the sheets to ground yourself. Deciding enough was enough Kyotani ripped his clothes off and reached for a condom out of his pocket. Slipping it on and lining up with your dripping entrance. He paused for a moment, locking eyes as if to say 'last chance'. Wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him once more you locked your legs around his torso and pulled him in. Groaning at the stretch. He was a lot bigger than you had expected, which is saying a lot cause you already pictured him quite endowed, to say the least. He started slow, trying to restrain himself from the pace he actually wanted. Your walls were squeezing him so tight his strength was lessening by the second "Fuck Kentaro you're so big" you moaned into his ear. Nails lightly tracing his back. That was the last straw He lifted one leg in the air as he started fucking you even harder than you had asked for. Relishing in the picture before him. Your head is flung back as your mouth is wide open and screaming his name like a prayer, breasts bouncing with each thrust and littered in bites and hickeys. Your pussy dripping and squeezing him as tight as possible to keep him in. One hand went to your hair as he began pulling on it, eliciting a whimper from you. Another hand finding your clit as he started tracing circles on it. This had you bucking your hips like wild, feeling the tension in your stomach grow faster and faster with every second. "Fuck Kentaro I'm gonna cum" you screamed, not caring about who hears you, you wanted people to know exactly how good he was making you feel. Leaning down he placed a kiss on your lips before moving to your neck to leave one last mark "Then cum" he said, voice strained as he focused all his energy on making you orgasm. You didn't need any further permission as finally, you succumbed to the feeling. White blurring your vision as you felt Kentaro still pumping into you. Not long after he came as well, groaning your name into your ear as he slowly helped you down from your highs. Pulling out he rolled onto the other side. Silence filled the room as you both caught your breath. With a clear mind, you started to think about what had just happened. You instantly went to pinch yourself over and over again before a hand caught your arm. "Would you fucking stop that" he grunted out, hand-making his way into yours. "Sorry, just wanted to make

sure I wasn't dreaming" Honestly, you still weren't sure this wasn't a dream but honestly who cares. Although your happiness only lasted for a second before doubt and guilt-filled your mind. Taking your hand out of his you sat up, on the verge of tears you gathered the courage to remain calm in your voice. "I know Naomi told you to do this, you don't have to stay or anything… I can pretend this never happened" you whispered, silent tears running down your face. Going to leave you were suddenly pulled back down, back meeting a strong chest as arms circled around you, attempting to comfort you. "I already told you, I don't care what Naomi said. Yes, she told me what you said but that's not why I did this." Voice hard yet still held a softness that was always there for you. "I was already planning on confessing to you, I don't know if you've noticed but I don't keep many people in my life, you're special to me even if you are a fucking pest." He muttered out, you elbowed him in annoyance at being called a pest before turning to face him. Hand reaching to graze his cheek, his hand wrapping your's as he pressed a kiss into your palm. Smiling you leaned up to give him a kiss. "I love you Kyo" "I love you too" he whispered before meeting your lips in a kiss. This one was different from the rest, this one held all the unspoken feelings you both have been too shy and afraid to say. Breaking apart you went get up before once again being pulled down. "Ken?" Suddenly you were flipped onto your back, Kentaro slowly making his way down your body, lips stopping just inches away from your folds. "I believe your present was for me to fuck you until your birthday was over," he said, a smirk gracing his face as he inched his way closer. "And I never like to disappoint" before finally licking a stripe onto your cunt causing you to gasp at the overstimulation. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand to check the time only to be greeted by a new message from Naomi Enjoy the next 4 hours😘 Sent 1 hour ago… Fuck

IF you enjoyed this then feel free to leave a like and check out some of my other works mainly under the tag 'puddin at night'. Im not a writer so my posting will be sporadic af and I'm sorry if this was not the best. Im still new to writing and everything. HAVE A GREAT DAY AND I LOVE YOU ALL

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq smut #haikyuu!! #hq imagines #kyotani imagine #haikyuu kyotani #kyotani x y/n #kyotani scenario #kyotani smut #kyotani x reader #mad dog #haikyuu x reader smut #kyotani kentaro #kyotani kentaro x reader #kyotani kentaro smut

[effeminateboyninja]

Congrats on 700 followers! I'd like to request a match up for the event please 💚

Name: Bacon. I go by she/her for pronouns, I'm an Aries but my Venus is Pisces. I'm an outgoing but introverted person who is very passionate and caring. I tend to be harsh on myself and put others before me. I love listening to music, watching anime and reading manga and playing video games.

My dream first date would probably to go to an arcade or an amusement park and just have loads of fun with the person I'm going out with. I wouldn't mind going on a dinner date either because food is amazing.

I'd love to be matched up with Jiraiya, if I could. I know he's not everyone's favorite, but I love how sweet and kind hearted he is and how much patience he has with Naruto and how he helped him through so much. I love his loyalty to Tsunade and how he didn't wanna give up on Orochimaru. Jiraiya is just so good in my eyes, plus I am pretty sexually open so his pervertedness does not bother me much.

I think that's it. Thank you so much and congrats on 700 followers once again! You write some awesome stuff 💚💚

home is where the heart is - jiraiya + bacon ♡

jiraiya was smitten the moment he saw you, flirting up a storm and paying you compliments that would normally make a woman blush. but not you. oh no, you just flashed him a dazzling smile that left him weak in the knees and shot one right back. and for the whole night that he stayed there getting to know you, flirting over sake, you kept up with his *ahem* somewhat provocative energy, and he knew he wanted to do more than just take you home for the night

he never stops thinking of you when he’s away on his travels! and no matter how busy he might be, he finds the time to write you a letter everyday to make sure you know it, always signed, “your man, jiraiya xo”. often times you’ll find a package along with the letter, full of little trinkets and souvenirs that reminded him of you

eventually though, his weeks away start to feel far too long and the letters aren’t enough. he used to love the freedom of his life as a travelling bachelor, but now all he can think is how much better it would be with you there. so the next time he has to leave and you’re wrapped up in each other’s arm trying to savour the night that you have left, he poses the idea, “why don’t you just come with me?”

he would be ecstatic when you agreed, picking you up and spinning you around as he assures you, “I’m gonna show you the world baby.” and after some more excitement and a night of some celebratory sex, he makes good on his promise, showing you all the most beautiful and interesting places he’s ever been. you two have been to every hot spring in the land of fire (and fucked in most of them 😏)

when you two aren’t on the road you spend a lot of time rejuvenating in the comfort of your little home. it’s cozy and full of memories despite the lack of time spent there, the fridge covered in pictures of all the places you’ve seen together. he loves late nights cuddled up next to you while you read manga or watch anime and he works on his latest manuscript, and he always lets you read them first

You woke up feeling elated, practically jumping out of bed and rushing to the shower to start your day, but not after checking the calendar to confirm what you already knew, having anticipated the day for weeks. Still though, the view of the day’s date circled and underlined in bright red ink was enough to give you butterflies. According to his frequent letters today was the day that Jiraiya was coming home after nearly two months of being away on the road. Your heart warmed at the thought - home.

It had taken a bit of convincing, getting the longtime bachelor to settle down and finally buy a house instead of jumping from inn to inn or crashing at your too-small, bachelor apartment, but neither of you had regretted it once since taking the step. Jiraiya especially. After so many years on the road trying to find the person he believed would change the world he found you, who changed his world, and made it possible to build a life amongst all the vices and responsibilities he thought would always prevent him from doing so.

You went about your morning routine with an air of excitement, eventually moving instead to the porch where you sat down with a book and faced the road where you’d watched the large, distinct figure of your lover some into view so many times.

You settled into place and buried your nose in your book, the familiar storyline of your favourite manga pulling you in and distracting you enough that this time you didn’t see him as he walked up, only noticing his arrival at the sound of his booming voice.

“Honey, I’m hooooome!”

That was all it took for you to forget about the pages at your fingers, the small paperback being tossed aside as you bounded towards him and jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around him and scattering quick kisses across his face. He laughed, the action sending a hearty vibration through his strong chest as he pulled you close against it and spun you around. “Miss me, sweetheart?”

“So much,” you mumbled between kisses.

He gripped your thighs in his large hands and started towards the door. “I missed you too. The bed’s on the road are not as comfortable as ours. Plus they’re missing my favourite part,” he winked, “my lady.”

You rolled your eyes but planted another kiss on his lips all the same as he stepped over the threshold, the two of you immediately collapsing on the couch together in a mess of limbs as Jiriaya shrugged off his heavy pack and pushed it onto the floor where it made a heavy thump.

“What, did you bring me a boulder?” you joked, expecting him to grin and start telling you all the exciting things he’d done while he was gone excitedly.

Instead he let out a breathy chuckle and waved off the noise and he readjusted underneath you to reach for his pocket.

“Something like that, though unfortunately I couldn’t afford a boulder.”

He smiled at the confused look on your face, and pulled out the small box, his grin only widening as your shock turned to understanding.

“Marry me?” he asked simply, “let me show you the world?”

You were too excited to answer, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a passionate kiss, but he took it as a yes all the same.

//

EVENT REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

#tysm honey!!! thanks for waiting #jiraiya x reader #jiraiya x you #jiraiya fluff #jiraiya #700 celebration #ebn; fics

[sproutsgcrden]

when the seafoam floats | chapter one

the entrance exam

summary: Aizawa Michi isn't sure of a lot of things in her life, but she is sure that Midoriya Izuku is going to be a great hero. Following him from Aldera Middle School to Yuuei High only cements that fact, even if he does have a strange new quirk.

author's note: this is a longtime coming! i've been planning Michi's story for over a year now, and i'm so excited to finally be able to share it! keep in mind that this a retelling of canon with an oc-- some things will be different, some things will be the same. i update every monday on ao3.

masterlist | read on ao3 | next chapter

want to be tagged? send in an ask and let me know!

art done by emmythetaciturn!

father | sent 06:48

good luck. don’t die. i’ll get you a kit-kat later

loudmouth | sent 07:03

HAVE FUN TODAY MIMI! YOU’RE GONNA ROCK THIS 😎😝👏💪🗣

nem | sent 07:06

You’re going to do amazing today, my little mimichan 💕💕

Missed Call | izukun💚 | 07:49

izukun💚 | sent 07:49

Hey! I’m here! Call me when you’re close? 😊

--------

Michi clicked the call back button, bringing the phone up to her ear as the familiar dial tone rang. The black skirt of her middle school uniform swayed gently in the wind as she continued her trek up the path that led to Yuuei High School. Her seafoam green hair, wavy as it was, was pulled back into her usual half-bun. Even if it was completely down, it would barely reach her shoulders. Her narrowed brown eyes began to search for the familiar green hair of her friend among the throng of middle school students in her way.

A click sound through the phone, and through the static and background noise Michi could make out a meek voice. Her lips formed a small grin, and her pace sped up. If she bumped into anyone, well, she could apologize later.

“Hello? Micchan?”

Michi excused herself past a couple who were walking extremely slow for her tastes, and tightened her bag to her shoulder with her free hand. “Hey Izukun! I’m about to pass the gates, so I’ll probably see you within a minute or two. Where are you at?” The golden gates seemed to dazzle in the sun. The young girl had been here many times with her father, but for some reason the entrance seemed especially intimidating today.

“Oh, I’m on the left side of the walkway, right by a pillar…” Michi could hear Izuku’s hesitance through the phone. “Are uh, are you nervous at all?”

“Nervous? Izukun, of course I’m nervous. This is the biggest entrance exam in the entire country. I doubt my quirk will be useful during the physical- but hey, that’s why we trained, yeah? If anyone can pull this off, it’s us!” Just then, Michi passed through the gate. She saw a glimpse of green hair behind one of the pillars, and changed her direction. “Anyways, I’m right behind you.”

A muffled and surprised screech sounded through her phone’s speaker, causing Michi to look up at the source of the noise. Izuku had turned around so quickly that he tripped, but luckily a nearby girl helped him. After hanging up her phone and putting it in her bag, Michi quickly ran towards the duo before her.

“Are you okay?” The cheerful voice of the brunette standing in front of Izuku carried through the open air. “Sorry for using my quirk on you without asking first! I know that some people may not like that, but I figured it would be better than falling!” The girl helped Izuku stand straight and released her quirk just as Michi caught up to them.

Leaning over, Michi gave Izuku a once over, just to make sure he didn’t actually hit anything before he was caught. When she didn’t see anything wrong, she nodded and turned to the brunette standing beside her. “Thanks for catching him. He can be a little clumsy- nerves aren’t really helping today.”

“Oh, it’s no problem! This whole thing is way nerve-wracking!” The two turned to Izuku, who was too busy staring off into space to be aware of anything around them. “Anyways- my name is Uraraka Ochako! Good luck in the exam!”

Michi bowed respectfully..“Aizawa Michi. And this is Midoriya Izuku. Good luck to you as well.” Uraraka nodded, and walked into the building, brown hair bouncing gracefully. Michi watched her walk inside before she turned her attention to her friend, who was muttering too quietly for her to catch on to what he was saying.

With a huff of amusement, she slapped his shoulder and began to guide him into the building. “Izukun, I know you don’t have much experience with girls, but you could at least try to introduce yourself to the one who saved you from eating the sidewalk.” Michi laughed as Izuku’s face went from shocked to embarrassed.

“Oh gosh, you’re right. I was too busy trying to figure out her quirk to even say anything! Do you think she noticed?” Their shoes scruffed against the paved stairs as they continued their walk, eventually reaching the door and going inside. “I mean, what do you think it was? I think it could be some sort of gravity manipulation based on how I floated- that’s perfect for rescue work! She would be an amazing hero, I really hope she makes it in- is that- Thirteen?!”

Thirteen was stationed at a long table at the end of the entrance hall, clearly meant to be a check-in. They pointed directions for the potential students in front of Izuku and Michi as they handed out pamphlets. Izuku began to shake, from nerves or excitement Michi couldn’t tell. She assumed a mixture of both. It wasn’t everyday you got to meet such influential heroes in person- at least for the normal civilian.

As the duo eventually made their way to the front of the line, Thirteen greeted them enthusiastically. “Welcome to Yuuei, Hero Hopefuls! Can you please give me your school I.D.s so we can get you checked in and ready to go?” Michi and Izuku, of course, already had their identification available. Thirteen quickly took them, and checked the two of them into the system. After handing a freshly printed packet to each of them, along with their I.D.s, Thirteen pointed them down the hall.

“Those packets include the booklets you will use in the written exam, along with information regarding the physical you’ll take after. Your proctor will explain everything in more detail once they’re ready to start the exam. Aizawa-san, you’ll be in room 1-E, right down the hall after taking the first left. Midoriya-san, you’ll be in room 1-G, just a few doors further down. Good luck to the both of you!”

Michi led the way to their respective rooms, clearly having some knowledge on where to go. Izuku followed her lead, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Uh, Micchan?” The girl in question absentmindedly nodded her head, gesturing for Izuku to continue his question. “Well, I was just thinking, isn’t it a bit strange that we haven’t seen Kacchan yet?”

“Why would you want him to see you today of all days?”

“I don’t! I just-” Izuku sighed, causing Michi to pause and pull him to the side of the hall. “If he does see me, I’d rather it be before everything starts? At least it wouldn’t be so embarrassing if he yelled at me in an empty hallway versus a classroom.”

Michi nodded in understanding, waiting a moment before speaking. “I don’t think he’d go too overboard today, Izuku. At least, not on campus? Yuuei is very strict in their policies, so he’d likely be barred from taking the exam if he started screaming at you for nothing.” She gave him a reassuring grin. “And if he did, I’d punch him in the face. Again.”

“Micchan! You can’t just talk about how you punched Kacchan!”

“Why not? The asshole deserved it for what he said. And you know it.”

“I mean, maybe he did. But I’m sure you’ll be barred from taking the exam for talking about how you assaulted another student so openly!”

“Yeah... But I could still make it into general studies, probably. Besides, my old man already knows I cracked open Bakugou’s nose.”

“Micchan!” Izuku’s eyes were wide, but he couldn’t mask the giggles leaving his mouth quite fast enough. Michi smiled in response- a large, open-mouthed smile that rarely came from the normally stoic girl. Once Izuku calmed down, he began to talk once more. “Oh yeah. I forgot you mentioned your dad taught here. I’m still upset you won’t tell me which hero he is.”

Michi huffed, a small ounce of suppressed laughter. “Dad doesn’t like me sharing his hero identity, Izukun. But, to give you a clue…”

Izuku leaned in closely, ready to hear whatever could possibly clue him in on the mysterious hero.

“You have a few pages dedicated to him in one of your notebooks! I think number eleven?”

Green eyes widened comically as Izuku took in the implications of his friend’s words. “You mean I already wrote about your dad and you won’t tell me which hero he is?!”

“I thought it was funny.” Michi shrugged with a small grin. “Plus, like I said, dad doesn’t like people knowing his hero identity.”

“I still- I wrote about your dad and you never said anything!”

“I would’ve corrected you on your analysis had you been wrong, but you actually broke down his abilities quite well! I wanted to take a picture and show it to him, but that would’ve been too on the nose.”

Michi slapped her shell-shocked friend on the shoulder, trying to snap him out of his stupor. “We have a test to take, remember? Let’s focus on that!”

Izuku, getting over his shock and embarrassment, shook his head clear of his thoughts and nodded towards his friend. Michi walked a little further with him to make sure that he made it to the correct room before hurrying to her own. It was time for the exam to get started.

--------

Michi groaned as she tightened the seafoam-colored half bun sitting on top of her head, turning her back quickly to pop it as she made her way towards the large auditorium Snipe had pointed her group in. The written test hadn’t been as difficult as she thought it could’ve been. Thanks to the endless nights she and Izuku spent studying every subject they could get their grubby little hands on, she didn’t have nearly the amount of trouble she expected to have on the math section. It really wasn’t one of her strong suits. Quirk Science and Quirks Laws, however, were a speciality of hers. Her father debated the laws with his coworkers frequently enough for her to pick up on, and Quirk Science definitely helped explain her own quirks’ functions. Sparing a quick glance down to her pamphlet, Michi took the stairs near the entrance to find her seat.

The row her seat was in wasn’t hard to find, but Michi did a double take once she found it. With narrowed eyes, she slammed her bag on the table with a bit more force than necessary. Of course they would sit her near him. She only hoped that Izuku got placed on her side instead of the empty seat on his side.

“Real mature, guard dog.” the grating voice of Bakugou Katsuki sounded from her right. She barely spared him a look of contempt before setting her gaze on the stage below. His ashen blond hair was as explosive as ever, red eyes set in the permanent glare she was used to seeing from him. The sight of his crooked nose was enough to almost make her lose her cool, letting out a short cackle.

“Yeah, as if you know anything about maturity. Want a reminder of how your nose got permanently tilted to the side?”

Bakugou snarled, turning away from Michi to face the stage once more.

It was the first day of their third year, and of course Izuku was the first one assigned to classroom cleanup. Michi offered to stay behind with him, but she ran to the restroom right after class was dismissed. She knew she should’ve waited until Bakugou and his cronies left for the day, a fact she cursed herself for months after the event.

Her shoes tapped against the linoleum floor as she hurried back to their class, knowing the sooner they got the cleaning done, the sooner they could go get some katsudon and celebrate their first day being over. She didn’t expect her vision to turn red in rage the moment she entered the room.

“If you really want to be a hero so bad- maybe you should take a swan dawn off the roof of the building and pray for a quirk in the next life!”

Fingers and the chain smoker had already turned towards the door, eyes widened in fear. Not knowing of the danger that awaited him, Bakugou turned towards the exit with a smug smirk. And that’s when he was met with a sharp crack against his nose. Blood leaked through the torn skin on the bridge, as well as one of his nostrils. He spluttered, hand moving up to catch the blood and cover his nose as his shocked eyes met Michi’s glowing red ones. Her seafoam hair, normally tied back in a half bun, floated towards the ceiling.

“If you ever say anything like that again, I won’t stop at your nose.”

The feeling of someone tapping her left shoulder brought her out of the flashback, and she turned to see Izuku smiling down at her. He set his bag down beside his chair softly, scooting his chair closer to hers as he sat down. His documents were placed on the table in a neat stack. He was about to say something to the girl beside him, when he seemed to realize that Bakugou was only two seats over. Michi knew he’d probably start freaking out, so she turned to face him completely, blocking out his view of Bakugou.

“How do you think you did on the written portion, Izukun?” The lights dimmed before going back to their original brightness, signalling that the presentation was about to begin.

The young boy fiddled with his papers, shaking his head slightly. “I think I did okay? There were a few questions on the beginnings of quirks that I had a bit of trouble with, but other than that it seemed easier than expected?”

“Yeah. Good thing we studied for the math section. I totally would’ve failed if we hadn’t gone over a majority of it.” Michi flicked her eyes towards the stage once more, seeing the silhouette of a man with very large hair walk up to the podium.

Izuku, Michi, and the rest of the participants crowded into the room focused their attention to the newcomer as the lights dimmed. His bright yellow hair, gelled up to the high heavens, was only accented by the artificial lights beaming down on him. Headphones covered his ears, and the collar of his leather jacket did little to hide the speaker connected around the man’s neck. Michi chuckled as she heard her green-haired friend let out a squeak in surprise.

“YOOOOO YUUEI HOPEFULS! HOW ARE WE FEELING TODAY?” The man certainly didn’t need the mic connected to the podium as his voice echoed clearly throughout the entire auditorium.

“That’s Present Mic! His quirk control is absolutely incredible- his rescue stats as well! I listen to his radio show every morning! I can’t believe he’s a teacher here! It’s totally crazy that all the teachers here are pros- guess that’s Yuuei for you!” Izuku was nearly bouncing in his seat, gushing over the Voice Hero with the quietest voice he could possibly muster.

“Will you stop nerding out, freak?”

Michi glared at Bakugou. “You really want me to mess up your nose again, sweaty hands?”

“Micchan! Kacchan!”

The two stopped glaring at each other and turned forwards again, paying attention to Present Mic, much to Izuku’s relief.

“WELCOME TO TODAY’S LIVE SHOW! EVERYBODY SAY HEY!”

If Michi had been paying attention to detail, she would’ve realized that no one in their position would ever reply. Tension and nerves were extremely palpable in the air; everyone was too scared to even say anything at this point in the exam. All except Michi- who was used to the loud, booming calls made by her father’s best friend. So when she replied with a decent-volume, she lifted her head, surprised to see over a thousand faces staring back at her.

Blood immediately rushed to her cheeks as she realized that she was the only one in the entire room to reply to the loudmouthed hero. She felt Izuku’s concerned gaze as she tried to block out the obnoxious sound of Bakugou trying (and failing) to hold in laughter.

“THANK YOU EXAMINEE 8978!” If Michi were any closer, she would be able to see the wink he sent her way, but from the distance she was at, she could barely see his exaggerated movements. “I’M HERE TO PRESENT THE GUIDELINES OF YOUR PRACTICAL! ARE YOU READY?!”

The large screen behind Present Mic lit up, showcasing a map of the ten different battle centers. “THIS IS HOW THE TEST IS GONNA GO, LISTENERS! YOU’LL BE EXPERIENCING TEN MINUTE LONG ‘MOCK CITYSCAPE MANEUVERS’! BRING ALONG WHATEVER YOU WANT! YOU’LL HEAD TO YOUR ASSIGNED LOCATION AFTER THIS PRESENTATION, YA DIG?”

Bakugou shuffled beside Michi, taking a quick glance at the paperwork laid out in front of each of them. “That’s so kids from the same middle school can’t help each other out, yeah?”

“Yeah. It makes sense, too. Especially considering that each consecutive I.D. number is assigned to a different location!”

“Get your eyes off of my paper, nerd!” Izuku shuddered as Bakugou whisper-screamed at him. The ashen blond grunted as he looked away. “I’ll crush all these losers. Fortunately for you, you’ll get to live another day.”

Michi felt a sinister grin form on her face as she spoke through clenched teeth. “Broken. Nose.”

They grew silent once more as Present Mic continued to speak.

“Each site is filled with three kinds of faux villains! Points are awarded for defeating each according to their respective difficulty levels!!! Use your quirks to disable these villains, and earn your points! That’s your goal, listeners!!” There was a short pause before the hero continued. “Of course, playing the antihero and attacking other examinees is prohibited!”

Michi elbowed Bakugou at the reminder, making him scowl at her.

“Excuse me! May I ask a question!”A voice sounded from below, nearly right in front of the stage. A figure was lit up by a stage light: a tall student with dark blue hair and glasses. He didn’t pause to let the hero reply before he continued on with his question. “There appear to be no fewer than four varieties of faux villains on this handout! Such a blatant error, if it is one, is highly unbecoming for Yuuei! Japan’s top academy! We’re all here today in the hopes of being molded into model heroes!”

“And you! With the curly hair!” His finger pointed towards Izuku, making the green haired boy cower behind Michi. “You’ve been muttering this whole time! It’s distracting!! If this is some sort of game to you, then please leave immediately!”

Izuku let out an embarrassed “Sorry,” in reply, making Michi glare down at the kid who singled her friend out. If it wasn’t going to create even more of a scene and cause Izuku to become even more of a nervous wreck, she’d totally give this guy a piece of her mind. Just who did he think he was?!

“Alright! Examinee 7111! Great catch, thank you!” Present Mic increased his volume, trying to lead the attention back to himself. “But the fourth villain variety gets you zero points! He’s more of an obstacle! There’s only one at each site! A gimmick of sorts that’ll rampage around in close quarters.”

“Thank you, sir! I apologize for the interruption!”

The presenting hero nodded, gesturing to the entire room with his hands. “That’s all from me, folks!” He went on to describe a quote from Napoleon, of all people. Michi knew this was the school of schools, but she also knew Mic was being forced to spew the random educational fact to them all. “PLUS ULTRA!!! Break a leg, listeners!”

With that, the main lights turned back on and the other potential students began to shuffle their way to their respective buses. The small shuttles would take them to and from campus to their testing sites. Bakugou, bag already slung across his shoulder and papers in his grasp, sped past Izuku and Michi as soon as the lights turned back on. The two shrugged as they gathered their things and made their way down and out to the buses.

-------

The shuttles, while as large as they could be, were still completely cramped. Michi found herself wishing that the battle centers were closer so that they could just walk to where they needed to be. She wasn’t much of a people person in the first place, even more-so when she was surrounded by random people with no room to herself. Luckily, she was able to grab a window seat near the back. The kid that sat immediately next to her didn’t seem too awful, either.

“Hey! Name’s Sero Hanta!” His deep black hair reached just above his shoulders, and his smile was so obviously genuine. Michi nodded, eyes flickering down to the round shape of his elbows before meeting his own. “This is totally crazy, right?”

“Aizawa Michi.” She sat up a bit straighter to provide more room for the both of them as she nodded. “Tell me about it. Didn’t know we were fighting robots… I’m going to have to be creative.”

Sero lifted his arms to give her a better view of his elbows. “I get ya! My quirk’s called Tape! I produce organic tape from my elbows.” He dropped his arms once she had gotten a good look. “What’s yours?”

“It’s called Erasure.” Michi held up her hands for Sero to see. “If I touch someone with all five fingers, I can erase their quirk. Or, I make them unable to use it? It’s not very effective on those with mutations, however.”

“Oh no shit?” Sero turned to face Michi fully, lifting his elbow to her still raised hand. “Try it on me! I wanna see what happens with my quirk!”

The young girl nodded, and placed her entire hand on the boy’s elbows. Michi felt her hair begin to float upwards, and she could tell by the look on Sero’s face that her normally brown eyes had begun to glow red. “You can move your elbow. I can still have my quirk activated if I let go.”

Sero tilted his arm away from her, moving it back and forth with furrowed brows. He shook his arm a few times, in an attempt to try to use his quirk. “It’s so weird. I know my quirk’s still here, it just feels like I forgot how to use it.” He knocked his knuckles against his elbow. “Yeah, I can’t get anything to come out.”

Michi nodded and deactivated her quirk; the feeling of her hair floating back down to normal tickled the back of her neck. In an instant, tape shot out of Sero’s elbows in a similar fashion to a grenade getting launched. He quickly grabbed the end before it could get far, and retracted it. She sheepishly scratched the back of her neck, turning her gaze to the floor.

“Sorry. I should’ve warned you before I let it go.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it!!” The shuttle came to a stop in front of their battle center, and the two of them stood as they waited their turn to make their way to the gate. “That’s a pretty great quirk though. It sucks that you don’t have a way to use it against the robots.”

Michi shrugged, following Sero as he began to walk through the aisle. “I have a few ideas of what I can do. Either way, if I don’t manage to bag enough villain points, I’m confident I’ll make it into general education. I can just fight my way into the hero course from there.”

The duo had made their way to the gate by the time Michi finished her short speech, and started to stretch while they waited for the countdown to begin. It wasn’t a long wait before a loud buzzer sounded through the area, and as soon as the gates opened up, Michi sprinted her way through it. She barely acknowledged Present Mic’s voice as she surpassed those in her group, heading straight for the nearest one-pointer.

The one-pointers were the smallest of the bunch, and therefore the easiest ones to test her theory on. Logically, these robots had to have a manual shut-off. Michi had no doubt that the exam proctors were controlling these things from a central room somewhere on campus, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t other ways to make sure they were running properly.

Thanking her dad for the parkour lessons, Michi narrowly dodged the robot’s fist before hopping onto it. Using its arm as a leverage point, she swung herself towards its neck. It didn’t take long for her to maneuver herself so she was able to look down at its back. Taking a moment to look around, her eyes lit up as soon as she glanced at a small switch between the neck piece and the back of the robot. Dodging another hit from the bot, she swung herself around once more. Hanging one arm around its neck from the back, Michi was able to stick her hand down far enough to toggle the switch. She heard a small click and immediately did a backflip off the bot and ran to find a new enemy to take on.

The other examinees were beginning to catch up to her, but she did her best to ignore them and keep to the plan she had. Now that she knew for sure that the robots had a toggle for power, Michi felt much more comfortable going after the two and three pointers. She would just have to make sure to dodge their attacks as well as she could. Without any quirk enhancements, taking a hit from one of the bigger bots was sure to at least crack a rib or two.

As Michi kicked off the two-pointer she just eliminated to land on the arm of a nearby three-pointer, she found herself regretful that she hadn’t practiced more with a capture weapon. Her father’s capture scarf, while useful, was extraordinarily complicated to learn how to handle. Even after practicing with a smaller version for about two years now, she still didn’t feel confident in handling it. At least, not confident enough to take it along for the most important exam she would probably ever take.

The three-pointer shut down with a flick of a button, and Michi jumped down to the ground as it collapsed in on itself. The ten-minutes they were allowed were quickly running out, and the examinees had fully taken advantage of every second. The young girl ran down the back alleyways of the mock city in hopes of finding a straggler or two, but it seemed to be in vain. She was sure that there were probably some more targets near the open streets, but quite frankly it was a bloodbath between the others and she really didn’t want any part of it.

Just as she was about to enter another alley, the ground began to rumble. Something big was approaching, and approaching fast. Looking out onto the main road, she spotted the biggest robot she had ever seen in her life. It easily doubled the largest buildings in the area, and the insane amount of weapons situated on its arms made it a terrifying sight to behold. That’s the zero-pointer?

Michi stared at the giant, watching it move closer and closer as other examinees rushed past her to get to safety. No wonder Present Mic said to avoid that thing! There’s no stopping it unless you want to break yourself! Michi set her foot back, hesitantly getting ready to make an escape, before she heard a terrified scream break out in front of her. A kid with strange looking balls on top of his head was cowered underneath a few pieces of rubble. It didn’t seem to be crushing him, but Michi knew sooner or later that the zero-pointer would.

With a sigh, Michi forced herself forward, running towards the other examinee as fast as she could. She came to a stop right beside the boy, eyes flickering between him and the zero-pointer. As she took a closer look, she noticed that similar balls to what he had as hair were wedged in between the wall and the pieces of rubble about to fall on him. She also noticed that his pant leg was caught in between the street and the piece of rubble as well.

“Hey!” The kid met her calm gaze with watery eyes and snot dripping down his nose. She tried not to grimace at the sight. “Those ball things are your quirk, right? Can you get them to unstick? I’d reach around to rip off the part of your pants that are stuck but I can’t reach and we really don’t have the time to mess around here.”

“I- I can’t!!” The kid was pretty much inconsolable. “I made sure they’d be super sticky for the exam today!”

Michi gritted her teeth, looking around for something she could use to help push the heavy rubble away, at least to the point where he was able to get his pant leg out of there. A metal pipe glinted in the alleyway she came from, and she made sure to tell the crying boy that she’d be back soon. Pushing herself up once more, Michi sprinted to the alleyway and bent down to pick up the pipe. A ripping sound came from above her, and she looked up to see Sero grinning down at her with a sweaty face.

“Need help?” Sero dropped down from the roof to stand beside Michi as she stood to face him, gripping the pipe tight between her hands.

“Actually, yeah.” She gestured for him to follow her as she turned to run back to the boy in trouble. “We need to move this rubble so he can move but his quirk got caught up in the mess. So we need to separate this main piece from those balls attached to the wall.”

Sero nodded, taking a furtive glance to the approaching zero-pointer which was only getting closer. Tape from both of his elbows shot out, attaching to the flat side of the rubble. “I’ll pull; you can stick that pipe up at the top and push it my way.”

Michi did as he said, jamming the pipe as far as she could between the wall and the debris. As soon as Sero called out, Michi began to push the pipe. The young girl relied more on her speed than her strength, so she wasn’t very used to dealing with this much weight. Sweat dripped down her face as she pushed harder, finally beginning to see the rubble move in the direction they wanted it to. After a minute or so of this, she felt the trapped boy grab onto her leg and pull himself out of the hole he had essentially dug for himself. Once he was a safe distance away, Sero and Michi both stopped their efforts.

The duo sent small smiles to one another, grateful that they were able to help. Unfortunately, that feeling didn’t last that long. Michi, about to ask the other boy if he was okay, suddenly froze as she felt a hand travel up her thigh.

“Oi, what the fuck!” She kicked the boy away from her, which wasn’t hard to do as he was still gripping onto her leg. Sero, who saw what had just occurred, came to stand by Michi’s side. Their glares combined sent the kid into another crying fit.

“I just wanted to say thank you!”

“Yeah, that came across real well when you tried to cop a feel.”

The boy, mouth open and ready to respond with some pathetic excuse, suddenly stopped as a loud sonic boom echoed around them. Almost immediately after, Present Mic’s obnoxious yelling sounded through the area.

“TIME’S UP, LISTENERS! PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE FRONT GATES!”

--------

The shuttles had taken them back to the main campus rather quickly. Those who had minor injuries were informed to wait for Recovery Girl to come back- apparently somebody had majorly hurt themselves in one of the other battle centers. Michi suspected it had to do with whatever caused that explosion at the very end of the test.

Michi walked through the crowded group of waiting students, searching for a glimpse of familiar green hair. Her brows furrowed as she saw no sight of him, and she pulled out her phone to see if he had texted her. The lock screen lit up, showing a photo of herself and Izuku on their first day of their third year. She was barely smiling, and he was red-faced and sweating buckets. The picture always did make her grin, but when she saw that there weren’t any notifications, she pulled up her messaging app. She was in the midst of typing up something to send to Izukun when she felt a hand land on her shoulder.

“Examinee 8978!” Present Mic stood beside her, shooting her a wink through his orange-tinted glasses. “Someone’s looking for you. Lemme take you to them, ya dig?!”

Michi nodded, following the tall hero as he led the way towards the less crowded hallway. As soon as they were out of earshot from most of the other examinees, Present Mic grinned down at her.

“What?”

“Nothin’. I’m just so proud of you! Saving people already!” The hero wiped a fake tear from under his eye, cackling when Michi groaned. They made another turn, and Michi grew more concerned when she realized they were heading in the direction of Recovery Girl’s office.

The young girl adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “It would’ve been better had that loser not tried to grab my ass.”

“And Mineta Minorou will face consequences for those actions. If I have anything to say about it, he won’t step foot in the school again.” A deep, exhausted voice sounded from in front of them as Eraserhead turned the corner they were approaching. His eyebags were very pronounced today, only seeming more prominent from the shadows his long, unkempt hair cast upon his face.

As Michi and Present Mic walked closer, he stopped them to hand Michi a kit-kat bar and pat her head. “Good job, kid.” All Michi did was nod her head, trying to hide her forming grin.

Of course, the moment was ruined once Mic opened his mouth. “Why can’t you two act like a normal father and daughter for once?! Give her a hug, cry! Show some emotion!”

Both Aizawas felt their eyes twitch, turning towards Mic with matching glares.

“Okay, okay!” Mic began waving his hands and backing up. “I’ll shut up! I gotta go check on the other listeners anyways since this case may take Chiyo a while!” With that, Mic sped away back towards the lobby where a majority of students were still waiting, leaving Michi and Eraserhead alone before the nurse’s office.

Michi blinked, turning to her dad in hopes of hearing an explanation. He sighed, eyes closing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your friend. I thought he was quirkless.”

“He is, though?” Michi crinkled her nose in confusion, “He has the extra toe joint and the special shoes and everything.”

“Then how did he level an entire zero-pointer with one punch?”

“What did you say?!”

All her father did was sigh again, and open the door to Recovery Girl’s office. Immediately, Michi rushed in, ignoring the elder woman’s protests. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw Izuku laying on the stretcher with a nervous smile.

“H-Hey, Micchan! How did your test go?”

She was going to kill him.

#sprout's fics #bnha oc #mha oc #midoriya izuku #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #kayama nemuri #sero hanta #midoriya izuku x oc #bnha fanfic #bnha fics #mha fanfic #mha fics

[the-marauder-corner]

Dating Harry and meeting Sirius

Harry Potter is the love of my life. He's everything anyone could want, kind, handsome, clever and funny. Lucky for me we've been dating for a year. We've known each other since first year when he ran into me trying to get to transfiguration on the first day. We started dating at Christmas last year and now it's Christmas once again, Harry's invited me to spend it with him at his godfather, Sirius' house and I'm scared shitless. No not because he's an ex-convict (falsely accused may I add) but because he is the only family Harry has and I have to make a good impression.

Harry doesn't have to worry about making a good impression with my parents because they want nothing to do with me. They're pureblood supremacists and absolutely dispise muggle borns and 'blood traitors' which is what they've classed me as when I ran away to the Weasley's where I've stayed for the past three years. They're like my family and Harry's already like their family too.

So what am I going to tell Sirius? "Hello sir, lovely to meet you. My name is y/n l/n. Yes l/n, you know? The pureblood family that hates all things muggle related, a family of huge voldemort supporters, the person who murdered your godson's parents and your best friends is dating your godson" yep, makes for a great first impression.

We step onto the train and sit down. I twiddle my thumbs nervously and start taking some deep breaths "Why are you so worried?" "Harry, my family is full of deatheaters. This is the order of the pheonix. Need I say more?" He frowns as do Hermione and Ron. Fred and George then emerge from the carriage next to ours. "Oi! You're not a l/n anymore, you're a Weasley" "You two still terrify me doing that you know?" "Doing what?" They ask in unison once again making me roll my eyes and giggle. "Nothing" I put my head in my hands and sigh, Harry rubs my back. "Y/n they'll all love you like I do. I promise" I sit back up and rest my head on his shoulder. The rest of the way we talk about what we'll do and what gifts we think we got but it doesn't stop the little nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me "You don't deserve him. You're from a deatheater family. A family of cruel, awful people and who's to stop you being the exact same as them"

Eventually we arrive at king cross station, getting off with our luggage and waiting for Fred and George while searching for mum and dad. We spot them, get into the car and head over to Grimmauld Place, where outside I am once again wringing my hands with anxiety. This would've been so much easier if I had just been able to meet Sirius the night Ron, Hermione and Harry did but no I just had to finish my stupid potions exam. I did get to say goodbye to Remus at least. He was my best DADA professor and after he became a person I could write to about my problems that i just couldn't say to anyone else. He updates me on himself which is why I'm very excited to meet Tonks.

Harry puts his hand on mine "He'll love you, they all will" I smile weakly and he kisses my forehead.

When we get out of the car Fred and George immediately apparate inside making me giggle and I grab mine and Harry's luggage. We enter the house and I'm looking around in awe at how large it is until from the top of the stairs I hear..."GET OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU FILTHY BLOOD TRAITORS THE LOT OF YOU!" "SHUT UP YOU OLD COW!"

A man who I presume to be Sirius emerges from the hallway. "Sorry about that, the old bag just never puts a sock in it" he comes downstairs, looks at me and smiles. "You must be y/n, it's lovely to meet you dear" "It's lovely to meet you Mr Black" "Oh please, call me Sirius" I smile, Remus then comes into the room "Longtime no see" I grin and hug him "I missed you Remus" "And I missed you" he the turns to Sirius "Don't tell me you've tried to scare off our poor little y/n already Pads" "Me? Oh Moony you know me better than that" Molly then steps in "I think we should get our things unpacked upstairs" "Of course, Molly, Arthur you know where your room is. Hermione, Ginny and y/n your room is first on the right, Fred, George, Harry and Ron first door on the left"

We all go upstairs, unpack our things and sit down for a bit. Or in my case lie down. "You alright y/n?" "Yep, just stressing about messing up this whole stay" "Oh y/n, Sirius is lovely. He'll love you" I grab my book from my drawer and get up "Where are you going?" "I saw a bay window at the top of the stairs that has a nice view of the city so I'm sitting there to read, want to come with me?" Hermione shrugs "I think I'll talk to Ron for a bit" I gasp mockingly "You and Ronald emotional range of a teaspoon Weasley? Talk? Well I never" she laughs and I walk out, sitting on the windowsill and opening my book.

"Disgusting blood traitors" I look down towards the noise and see a displeased looking house elf. "Would expect nothing less from..." "Kreacher! I think she's had enough of your bile! Run along and clean your beloved mistresses' portrait why don't you?" He turns to Sirius "Of course. Kreacher live to serve the noble house of Black" he turns and walks down the long corridor.

"I'm sorry about that. He's a miserable old thing" "I...it's okay" he frowns slightly "Are you alright?" I sigh and turn to face him properly. "I'm just going to tell you myself before someone else tells you. I'm a l/n. I ran away from home when I was fourteen because they disowned me. I understand if you don't want relatives of the l/n family in your house so I'll leave willing" he chuckles "Leave? Why would I make you do that?" "Because...my family...they're deatheaters" he smiles "Come with me" I set down my book and follow him into a room where he turns the lights on. The walls are covered in a large family tree with scattered burnt spots on it. He points to a particular burnt spot. "You see that is what my mother did after I ran away. Charming woman. I was sixteen at the time. I ran because my family was cruel. They hated me for associating with James and Remus and for being a Gryffindor. I understand what it's like to be judged because of your family's actions. You try your very best to change their minds but some people are so stubborn that they refuse to see what's in front of them, it's a difficult life to live around strangers but around friends it's the best life to live. You know why? Because you know the friends that stuck around are real and you know that they're there, not for your family's wealth or your popularity but for you. You have those friends and family. The l/ns aren't your family anymore, the Weasleys are. I ran away to the Potter's when I was sixteen. James. James was my brother and I had a real family. I had a mum and dad, I had a brother and you have your family. They're here with you" he kneels down "Everyone here wants to make you happy and I can see that you want nothing more than to return that favour to them. I see how happy you've made Remus and how happy you make Harry. You make your family happy and I hope one day you'll accept me as your family too" I wipe away a tear from my eye "Would it be too early to say I'm ready for that now?" He laughs "Not to me" I hug him and Harry walks in. "Well you two got off on the right foot" we pull away from the hug and Sirius wraps an arm around his shoulder. "You got a good one Harry" he grins "I know"

#harry potter x reader #Sirius black #remus lupin #remus #sirius #Weasleys #weasley #x reader #harry #harry potter

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Letting Go: "ALN" Story (Pre-Serum Omega!Steve and Alpha!Bucky Modern Domestic AU)

Twenty-Nine:

"I don't know how I'm going to follow that," Bucky smiled, his voice raspy from emotion. Briefly leaning away from the microphone so he could clear his throat.

"But I guess here 'goes.

"Finn is our second child, our second son, and he has always been so uniquely unlike his cousins or siblings."

Steve internally groaned. He couldn't believe that the speech had just started and already his husband had managed to put his foot in his mouth.

He must've realized that because he quickly added, "But in a good way. I promise. Different – a good different – not only by being more introspective, but by being so solely adept musically that it felt like I had never heard music until Finn came around."

Bucky smiled over at the thirteen year old. A soft, sweet smile that held so much affection, that Steve fell even more in love with him.

"Of course, then we made the mistake to introduce him to High School Musical, and for a short time, I wished that I had never discovered music at all." Steve rolled his eyes and Finn held his face in his hands. Chuckling along with their guests, Bucky assured, "I'm joking, of course. Those were his cutest days. The ones where he would try and recreate the basketball choreography in our driveway."

Tucking Finn under his arm, Bucky kissed the top of his head. Finn's cheeks reddened and Steve hoped that he wasn't too embarrassed. Thankfully, Bucky let Finn go back to standing off to the side while he continued his speech.

"All my life I wanted to be more like Finn. To listen more. To analyze the situation better. To choose my words more carefully." Looking over to Steve, Bucky confirmed, "He gets it from his father."

Steve shook his head because he knew that Finn definitely did not get that from him. But Bucky didn't seem to care about that fib.

"The older I get, the more I cherish every moment I get with my children. Finn had always been a happy surprise. From the day we found out about him, to the day he showed up on my birthday. He is the best birthday gift that I've ever received. And I know that with his gift, he'll always be that way to the people around him, whether he plays for them or not. Finn, himself, is a gift. Even if some people haven't appreciated him the way he should be."

Despite himself, Steve still wetly sniffled. How could he not? His second son was now a young man. Of course, he was going to be emotional. Especially when Bucky was being more genuine than usual.

And then it was Steve's turn.

Quickly, he tried to keep his emotions at bay. If only they had cooperated. Instead, he probably looked like a mess. He felt like a mess. Feeling the snot running down his nose on his way to the microphone stand. As discreetly as possible, Steve took a tissue from his pocket and blew his nose.

"Sorry," Steve apologized as he tucked the used tissue back into his suit jacket's pocket. "Excuse me for being so emotional. They just grow up so fast."

Sympathetic humming and some applauds of agreeance were heard, but Steve couldn't focus on them. Hell, he could barely focus on himself as his hands shook and his stomach knotted.

"Finn, today you are a man," Steve started his own speech, "But you'll always be my Little Man."

Already more tears were building in his eyes and causing his vision to blur the words he'd written down. Still, he barreled through. "I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday. I imagine that has a little something to do with how it was the day I lost a bet to your Auntie Natasha."

"Yeah, you did," Natasha declared from her seat next to her longtime partner, Carol, and Sam.

There was more laughter and Steve continued, "Not only did you inherit her name, Nathaniel, but you also inherited her decisive attitude.

"Even as a child, you were one who set his mind to something and did just that. At three years old you wanted to learn how to play the piano, and so that was what you did. At eleven, you wanted to learn how to transcribe music, and you've finally gotten the hang of that too. Just like we knew you would."

Directing this part to Finn specifically, "Cookie, you can do anything you set your mind to. And I know that you'll do whatever it is with grace, courage, and justly."

Meaning this part the most, Steve started to choke up again as he said, "And we are so proud of you."

[nevertherose]

One Hundred Seconds to Midnight: Chapters 1-8

"All Roman wanted to do was take Logan on a Doctor Who LARP within the Imagination.

But with Thomas's Sides at their figurative breaking point after the disastrous wedding, the Imagination may just have a few ideas of her own..."

Hello, Tumblr fanders, it has been a while since I've poked around in here...mostly because, I've been writing another story!

Do you like Sanders Sides? Do you like Doctor Who? Do you like the idea of the Sides playing Doctor Who characters? If so, this story was written especially for you.

I found that the process of cross-posting Mahogany and Teakwood across three platforms, one chapter at a time, involved a lot of me spending too many hours squinting at html code. Not especially fun. This time around, I've only been posting on AO3 and Wattpad.

But I wanted it to exist here as well.

So! Today I'm going to post the first half (in two posts, because apparently Tumblr has a post size limit, who knew?), all the chapters that are up so far. Then, when the whole story is up on the other platforms, I'll post the other half.

Of course, you could head to either AO3 or Wattpad, if you want to read as the chapters go up.

But if you're like me, and like to read stories in nice, big, juicy chunks...here you go:

One Hundred Seconds to Midnight

Chapter 1- The Eleventh Hour

“Who are you?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m still cooking.”

Midnight.

The witching hour.

Or was that 3AM? Roman wondered. No, that’s the devil’s hour…damn it, Virgil! You had to get them all mixed up!

It was nearly midnight on the Imagination’s border.

Moonlight, pearlescent and brighter than it could ever shine in the real world, streamed feather-light through the tall windows on Roman’s side of the Dream Palace. It made patterns of light and shadow over the black marble floors, made nighttime caricatures of the white ivory statues that lined the corridor.

Roman’s heeled boots echoed in the silence; Logan’s dress shoes, in comparison, were whisper-quiet.

Logan himself had been uncharacteristically quiet since they entered this place, Roman noted, glancing back. Normally by now the logical Side would have asked a million questions, made a million plans, or be several bullet points into a lecture about palace construction or the history of measurement units or some other nerdy, obscure subject.

And Roman would either pretend to be annoyed, or would interject witty counterpoints to make Logan stop and bluster and…

But not tonight.

Maybe he’s nervous about being here, Roman told himself, smoothing a hand over his red sash. He’s only pointed out a million times that Logic and the Imagination are anathema to one another. Maybe I should have planned something else…

Or maybe he’s just annoyed at you for dragging him out of bed in the literal middle of the night, a more insidious inner voice whispered. When you know he likes to keep a consistent sleep schedule.

Roman pressed his lips together, lifted his chin…he might be a mere facet of a single personality, but he was also a Prince, and Princes do not listen to inner demons. However, he also looked back for the dozenth time to make sure Logan was actually still following.

That was the only reason Roman kept looking back.

It had nothing to do with the way the translucent moonlight caught the other Side’s dark, immaculately kept hair, or glinted off his glasses.

In the real world, of course, and whenever they manifested near their Source, the Sides all had precisely the same face and body as Thomas. But deep inside the mind, where physical appearance was an illusion anyway, the Sides exercised much more control.

Thomas remained their base template, but each Side also tended to portray himself with features that Thomas associated with their core function. Like Patton’s fluffy curls and childlike freckles, or Virgil’s anxious, ever-changing eyeshadow, or Remus’s abominable comic-book villain mustache.

Like Deceit’s…no, Janus’s very real scales.

Damn that snake. Why did I have think of him now?

Hopefully the lying bananaconda had better things to do than pop up and spoil things tonight. Because tonight, Roman was finally fulfilling a longtime promise to Logan, and taking him on a grand adventure.

The thought made his heart flutter in anticipation, and he looked back again.

Logan within the mindscape was leaner than Thomas, an inch or two taller, and his neatly trimmed hair and intelligent eyes were almost black in the low light. His face was narrow and intense, the nose more aquiline, and he had a habit of standing straighter than any of the rest of them.

(A habit which constantly showed off his trim waist and chest muscles…not that Roman paid any attention to that…)

Roman, by contrast, was a bit shorter, but his shoulders were broad and he was more muscular, due to all the questing and sword fighting he did here in the Imagination. He wore his hair in longish disarray that paired devastatingly with his clean, square jawline; hair that could be turned loose and wild on quests, or pulled neatly back as befitted royalty. His hands were strong; with long, artistic fingers, as skilled at wielding pens and paintbrushes as they were at wielding swords.

He liked to think he was handsome.

He was also painfully aware of how little it mattered when a certain someone…ehem…never seemed to notice.

“Roman, I confess to still being a bit lost as to the purpose of this journey,” Logan said at last, breaking the high-ceilinged silence. “You said you were taking us on a…’lark’? If so, why are we wandering around the Dream Palace?”

“LARP,” Roman corrected, flashing him a smile. “L-A-R-P. It stands for live action role play, Specs.”

Logan’s nose wrinkled at the words “role play”, and Roman’s stomach lurched. He hates it, he hates the very idea of it, you haven’t even started yet and you’ve already failed…

“Oh, don’t make the scrunchy face!” he added, a bit louder than necessary, and waved a hand. “At least wait until you’ve seen it.”

Roman had only been planning this for weeks.

“You know, when you promised to take me on one of your ‘adventures’,” Logan said, making finger quotes. “I was not expecting to be roused from bed in the middle of the night.”

“That’s because this isn’t your average adventure.” Roman gestured around them. “I constructed a special dreamscape to get all the details right, and we can only use the Dream Palace when Thomas is asleep.” He turned and dared a wink. “Only the best for you, my detail-oriented friend.”

Logan adjusted his glasses.

“Let it be known that I am indulging your antics right now because you have, on occasion, had some good ideas. You will, in turn, have to indulge my skepticism.”

“I have no idea what you just said, but I’m gonna pretend it was a compliment,” Roman said with a wink, which Logan rolled his eyes at.

“Ah ha, here we are!”

Roman stopped at a set of iconic blue doors, nearly vibrating in excitement as he waited for Logan to recognize them.

The nerd did not disappoint.

“Roman…” Logan murmured, stepping forward to touch the white PULL TO OPEN sign. “They look just like the doors to the TARDIS. The attention to detail is exquisite. But why?”

“Because I’m taking you on a Doctor Who LARP!” Roman exclaimed, flapping his hands. “All we have to do is step through, and the Imagination will make us Doctor and companion, and whisk us away through all of time and space!”

Logan’s face was a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “Again…why?”

“Because it will be fun?” Roman bit his lip, looking at his toes. “I…I know you aren’t into swords and sorcery and dragon-witches and whatnot. I wanted this to be something you might actually enjoy.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, as it often did when he tried to process something that didn’t fit neatly into his graphed, notated, logical worldview.

Usually, it was an emotion.

“But won’t us enacting such an intense scenario at this time of night negatively affect Thomas’s sleep?” Logan asked.

“That’s the genius of adventuring in the Dream Palace,” Roman explained. “You can do hyperreal, immersive stuff, and if Thomas does happen to remember anything, he’ll just think he had a weird dream. The worst that could happen is he might post about it on Twitter.”

“Hmm. I can see you’ve thought this through. I am…flattered that you went to all the trouble,” Logan said in a quiet voice.

Roman had to bite back an ecstatic giggle.

Not…not because of the way his nerves skittered below his skin when his gaze caught Logan’s black eyes and soft expression. No, Roman was merely…excited! That someone like Logan appreciated his hard work!

It wasn’t like he was trying to impress anyone, like some middle school boy with, you know, a crush or whatever. For the last, well…two years.

…and then some.

Ugh. There was little point in denying his feelings; he’d only accidentally summon Janus and his oily smirk, and if that happened, Roman would most certainly die of embarrassment and that was not a lie, thank you very much.

The truth was, ever since Thomas had placed that jar of Crofters into Logan’s hands and inspired him to sing…not just rap, or begrudgingly harmonize, but actually sing…Roman had fallen, and fallen hard.

How could he not?

Logan’s words and ideas had always challenged him, pushed him to be smarter, sharper, better, just to keep up. Logan was the grounding anchor to his sails, the clarity to his excess. It used to infuriate Roman, the way he and Logan always came at problems from opposite sides and fought, sometimes bitterly, over the best way to meet in the middle.

But now?

Now Roman relished the way they traded words in a good fight, like blades in the hands of expert swordsmen. Logan, despite his dislike for anything fanciful, was a natural wordsmith…and Roman was a great lover of poetry. Even better, it seemed like Logan was also starting to enjoy their verbal sparring matches…

And then these last few months had happened.

The Decision, and Deceit, and the way that snake had let Remus out of the shadows to wreck havoc, and then the disastrous wedding itself…and Roman knew that Logan, through all of it, had been feeling pushed aside.

Goodness knew the logical Side hadn’t deserved to be shoved to the back of a courtroom, or relegated to a pixel-y shadow of himself before being removed from the discussion entirely. Worse, in both of those scenarios, Roman had either done nothing…or actively made things worse.

Roman knew he was guilty of letting his mouth run wild in his zeal to solve Thomas’s dilemmas…or in desperately hiding his true feelings. He knew his nicknames often came with barbs, his insults sometimes hit too close to home, that he often ignored or dismissed Logan’s cool, much-needed perspective.

He knew he needed to be better.

I’ll make it up to him tonight, Roman told himself as he laid a hand on the rough wooden blue doors and glanced back at Logan. The logical Side nodded, giving Roman a tiny burst of confidence.

He’ll get to play his favorite character and be his best nerdy self. This is going to be great!

Roman took a breath, and shoved open the TARDIS doors.

Chapter 2- Human Nature

“It’s all becoming clear now. The Doctor is doing the things you’d like to be doing.”

The blaring of a dozen sirens burst in Logan’s ears.

He was yanked across the threshold, Roman’s hand practically a vice around his wrist. Logan inhaled the sharp scent of metal and warm electronics, and a million figurative lights went off in his brain.

Being the physical incarnation of Logic, this wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar sensation.

The TARDIS shuddered…wait, TARDIS? We’re actually on the TARDIS?…under impact. Lights flashed; reds and greens over an ambiance of steely blue-gray, and Logan knew exactly what to do.

He shook free of Roman’s grip and strode to the center console…console, how do I know this is a console?…flipping several switches and turning the green dial to precisely 3.56 degrees to offset the radiation sheer from the M-class star they’d just spun past.

Because naturally they happened to be careening through an asteroid field.

The time rotor rose and dipped, Gallifreyan symbols whirling overhead; Logan adjusted shields and dodged rocks, striding confidently from station to station. He guided his TARDIS around the last large asteroid, one that easily could have smashed his beloved ship to bits, and then they were clear.

The TARDIS chimed reassuringly under his hands, relieved to be in empty space again.

Roman screamed.

The sound echoed off the metallic walls, causing Logan to whip around and nearly lose his balance.

“What happened?” he said sharply, leaving the console. The creative Side stood near the railing, staring down at himself in obvious dismay. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at me, Logan!” Roman said shrilly and gesturing at his body. “Just look!”

Logan examined his fellow Side. There were no obvious injuries he could see, no blood, no bruising, nothing that would merit a scream. There was just Roman, unfairly handsome as always.

(He still wasn’t sure how Roman managed that feat when they all literally, at least some of the time, had the same face.)

“I…don’t see a problem?” Logan asked slowly.

“I meant, look at what I’m wearing, Calculator Watch,” Roman snarled, and turned to yell nonsensically at the ceiling. “Am I a joke to you? When I said I wanted to be a companion, this is not what I meant!”

Logan focused on Roman’s clothing, which had shifted rather drastically since passing through those doors. His normal princely attire was replaced by a denim cutoff skirt, overalls, pink leggings, and a tight pink blouse that clung to his muscular chest and arms...

“I look ridiculous, don’t I?” Roman murmured, scuffing a combat boot against the metal grated floor. The motion drew Logan’s gaze again to the way the cutoffs hugged his hips and wow, that skirt was really short, wasn’t it?

And those tights, the way they accentuated Roman’s legs...

Logan frowned, his face feeling unusually warm. Why did he keep noticing these things? Of course Roman was more fit than the rest of them.

Perhaps it was simply that Logan didn’t usually see the evidence of it so…plainly.

Stop, Logan told himself sharply. You might be gay and allosexual, but that is no excuse to be disrespectful.

He cleared his throat.

“If I may, Roman?” he said, approaching, and made a closer examination of Roman’s outfit.

“I gather from your earlier ranting that you instructed the Imagination to cast you as one of the Doctor’s companions for the duration of this scenario?”

“Well, yeah,” Roman admitted, “but I was thinking someone like Jamie McCrimmon, or Rory Williams, or maybe even Jack Harkness!”

“You know there is some debate over whether Jack Harkness would be considered a proper ‘companion’, as he was never full time on the TARDIS,” Logan argued absently, still eying Roman’s ensemble.

It was attractive but also familiar; he just couldn’t quite place it…

“Neither was Clara Oswald at first, but nobody had a problem handing her that label from the start!” Roman folded his arms and Logan had to look away because wow, short sleeves and arms…

“Just because she was a girl and the writers obviously intended for her to be a love interest—”

“A girl, of course!” Logan snapped his fingers. “Roman, you are a companion. Specifically, you are Rose Tyler.”

“What?” Roman frowned, smoothing the overalls across his middle. “I…Hmm. You might actually be right.”

“Of course I am right.”

The creative Side scoffed at that, but continued to frown.

“I think it’s a good choice,” Logan added. “Rose is arguably one of the most beloved companions in new Who; bold, kind, and intelligent in her own way. She was pivotal to the Ninth, Tenth, and arguably the War Doctor’s character arcs.”

He laid a hand on Roman’s shoulder. (To convey reassurance, of course. Not because he suddenly wanted to touch…)

“Hers are not the worst shoes you could be given to fill,” Logan said, “idiomatically speaking.”

“Only you would drop a word like ‘idiomatically’ in everyday conversation,” Roman grumbled, but some of the spark returned to his caramel eyes.

“But look at you!” Roman said in a brighter voice, gesturing. “All proper and Doctor-ish. At least the Imagination let you keep your tie, or, whatever that thing is around your neck.”

Logan glanced down at himself for the first time.

His sensible polo and jeans had become a clean-cut black suit, with a warm grey waistcoat, a crisp white undershirt, and a silver pocket watch. A navy cravat was knotted around his throat.

His knee-length suit jacket was also black, with a striking cerulean lining.

He retrieved a slender, metallic something from the jacket’s inner pocket: of course, the Doctor’s signature sonic screwdriver. Specifically, the Tenth Doctor’s screwdriver.

Logan chuckled, remembering all the times he’d ranted to Roman about how impractical and flashy Eleven’s screwdriver became, and don’t even get him started on Twelve’s, it was practically a lightsaber…

“Interesting,” he murmured, stretching his arms to turn in a slow circle, letting the jacket flare. “Fashionably, I appear to be a cross between the Eighth and Twelfth Doctors, which I appreciate, as they are the two most sensible dressers of the bunch. And by the way, Roman, this is a called a cravat, not a tie…”

He’d lifted hands to his neck but the words died on his tongue.

Roman had summoned a mirror and was, quite literally, checking himself out. He swayed his hips, tilted one toward and then away from the mirror, pouted, did a tongue smile, and…and Logan realized he had been watching for more than a socially acceptable length of time.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat again. But he was saved from having to speak by a loud crackling at the center console.

Both Sides rushed over, Logan seizing the TV screen and pulling it down. Gray static skittered over the polished surface. He flipped two switches and turned a dial, trying to zero in on the signal.

“I meant to ask earlier…how do you know what to do?” Roman asked, tilting his head. “You were piloting before I think you even realized we were on a TARDIS in the first place.”

Logan froze in the middle of winding one of the cranks.

“I…I really do not know.” In fact, the more he thought about it, the less sense any of the controls made. “Now that you’ve drawn my attention to it, you are correct: rationally, I should not know the function of any of these…gizmos.” He gestured at the crank he’d been winding.

“Yet somehow my hands just…know.”

Roman leaned casually onto the console.

“When I built this LARP, I gave the Imagination quite a bit of leeway in how it wanted to construct our characters,” he said. “I’m thinking it took things a step further than costume changes, like making me the companion it thinks I most resemble instead of the companion I wanted to be.”

Roman bit his lip as though troubled, then clearly shook himself out of it.

“And it must have imparted some of the Doctor’s knowledge upon me.” Logan added, not sure how he felt about the Imagination having such a direct influence over his mind. He supposed if it didn’t get too invasive, and was confined to this one night, he could deal with it.

It had proven useful so far, after all.

Roman shot Logan a fierce grin.

“Indeed! So engage that big Doctor brain and let’s see who’s trying to call us. Allons-y, adventure awaits!”

“You know ‘allons-y’ is my line, right?” Logan said dryly.

He had to use his screwdriver on the screen before the picture came clear. The stream of static acquired the cadence of a voice…and then a disturbingly familiar face stared back at his own, looking equally shocked.

Roman, for the second time since entering the TARDIS, let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Chapter 3- The Witch’s Familiar

“If you’re going to take my stick, do me the courtesy of actually killing me. Teamwork is all about respect.”

Janus had just settled into his favorite chair with a mug of chamomile tea and a political science book when he was yanked…rather rudely, he might add…onto the deck of a spaceship.

He sighed, and dismissed his drink.

When one lived in the same mindspace as the literal embodiment of chaos, one unfortunately learned to expect such interruptions.

“REMUS!” he roared, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Did I not specifically ask to be LEFT ALONE tonight?”

Silence.

Deeply annoyed now, Janus took a moment to look around himself. This was not a normal spaceship; no windows, for one, and it was laid out in levels around a translucent column at the very center. His mismatched eyes followed the center rotor up and down, his mind almost placing it…

Something clumsily rose up from the deck with a clatter, causing Janus to summon his crook with a yell.

Only…the object that dropped into his hand wasn’t smooth wood, but a slender metal instrument just barely longer than his hand. A…sonic screwdriver? What the actual heck?

Well. It was what he had.

“Get back!” He pointed the instrument at the…figure…who still slowly climbed to its feet. It was an android or robot of some sort; humanoid, and the same kind of weirdly familiar as the ship.

“Janus?” the robot said, tilting its head.

Janus froze, all the scales standing up on his body. That was…that was Patton’s voice. Flat, mechanical, but unmistakable.

After all, Patton was the only Side who consistently called Janus by name.

“Patton?” Janus whispered.

“Oh, that was so weird-feeling! Thank goodness I’m not all by myself,” Robot-Patton said, putting a hand over his…well, where his heart should have been…in obvious relief. “But why are we both suddenly on the TARDIS?”

Janus drew in a sharp breath.

Of course, he should have recognized the stupid time rotor immediately. He’d never admit it to any of them, but he was as much of a Doctor Who nerd as Logan or Roman, sometimes going so far as to spy on them when they argued over episodes together.

To learn their arguing styles, of course.

Not because he had any desire to join those discussions.

And now, looking at Patton with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Janus deduced exactly what he was: a Mondasian Cyberman. They were older and cruder in design than the reboot versions…no wonder he hadn’t put a finger on it right away.

That wasn’t really the issue.

“REMUS!” Janus shouted again, more angrily this time. Bad enough his pleasant evening of solitude had been interrupted by…whatever this was. But putting the sweetest, most emotional Side into a canonically unemotional shell, a robot?

That was cruel. That was insulting.

It was too far, even for Remus.

“Janus, is everything okay?” Patton asked, coming closer. Janus shivered at the sound of that warm voice coming from a blank metallic face with empty eyes.

“Do you…feel all right?” Janus said in a hesitant voice.

“I’m a little chilly, but otherwise I’m in ship shape!” the other quipped, giggling. “Get it? Cause we’re on a ship?”

Is it…is it possible that he doesn’t know?

“Hilarious,” Janus deadpanned, but inside his thoughts spun.

He sensed they were in a dream construct within the Imagination, which meant this had to be Remus’s doing. Remus, who reveled in gore, despair, disturbing imagery, angst, and who was in charge of Thomas’s nightmares.

Remus could…and would, given the chance…recreate the experience of being a Cyberman down to the Last. Grim. Detail.

Maybe he hadn’t meant to ensnare Patton specifically to fill this role…Remus didn’t generally pull other Sides in for nightmares, come to think of it…but meanwhile, Janus didn’t want to find out what this might do to Patton’s head.

Worse, it was becoming clear that Patton was somehow oblivious to the state of his own body; he’d used his metallic hands to clutch at his metallic chest and found nothing wrong with either. He couldn’t hear the electronic rasp in his own voice, or the heavy clanging of his steps on the grated floor.

Should Janus say something?

Would Patton believe him if he did?

Ever since Thomas’s near mental breakdown after the disastrous wedding, Patton and Janus had orbited around each other in a state of tenuous truce. They talked now, sometimes, and those talks didn’t always end in arguments. Patton began to leave space for him by Thomas’s blinds when he was called up, and he…and by extension Thomas…occasionally actually sought his input.

But Janus, well.

Janus was still a liar.

The others still called him Deceit, either by accident (Logan) or out of spite (Virgil). Then there was Roman, who invented a colorful, wounding ego-jab for him every day, and Remus, whose fond nicknames tended to double as sex jokes.

Having no other real allies in the mindscape, Janus really, really didn’t want to screw up his tenuous alliance with Patton. Why sabotage his figurative “seat at the table” over one of Remus’s stupid nightmares?

Patton would assume Janus was slipping back into his old ways, lying just because he could, and Janus would never be able to prove otherwise. And later Patton would make that sour, pinched face he always made when he was disappointed, the one that made Janus want to crawl into a hole…

So.

Best to keep his observations close to the chest, for now.

“Do you have any idea what we’re doing here?” Janus asked, striding to the center console. True to dream logic, the controls made no sense and simultaneously made perfect sense.

Patton shrugged; a strange, clanky motion of his shoulders.

Janus sighed. “Although Remus has dragged me into dreams before, even he generally understands the concept of consent.” He casually flapped a hand. “And he always leaves you ‘light sides’ alone.”

“Honestly, this doesn’t feel like a nightmare to me,” Patton said, nearly making Janus choke. The Cyberman clanked over to stand by the console.

“It’s too clean,” Patton added. “Roman let me glimpse Remus’s side of the Imagination once, not long after he showed himself to Thomas, and it was…”

Patton trailed off.

“Fragmented? Chaotic? Disturbing?” Janus supplied.

“Sure, we’ll go with that,” Patton said quietly. “This,” he waved a hand around, “feels more like Roman’s work.”

“I suppose you would know.” Janus ran a thoughtful thumb over his face, tracing the ridge that ran from the corner of his mouth to his ear.

“And I would almost have to agree,” he added slowly. “If this was a nightmare, surely something ghastly would have happened by now. But my being pulled into one of Roman’s creations makes even less sense. He literally cannot stand me.”

“Maybe this is one of those dreams Thomas has sometimes after binge watching a show?” Patton suggested. “When there’s enough material in short term memory that the twins don’t get much input? Did Thomas binge a season of Doctor Who yesterday or something?”

And to think the others still view you as stupid, or slow-witted.

Janus bit back a smile.

“It’s a good theory, Patton, but no,” he said. “Thomas hasn’t really binged on much of anything lately.”

Patton ducked his head.

“You don’t…you don’t have to rub it in, you know,” he said lowly, the metallic rasp grating on Janus’s ears. “You and Logan have both made it pretty clear that I’ve been too strict with Thomas’s time.”

Janus fought to keep his expression neutral, but his stomach twisted.

Damn it.

Leave it to Patton to find guilt where none was meant. Even if Janus claimed he hadn’t meant it like that, Patton would probably not believe him.

Patton tilted his metal head as he examined Janus’s face.

“Did you know you have a mustache now? And a little goatee?”

“I have a what?” Janus felt at his face and groaned, his gloved fingers tugging at hair that most certainly did not belong on his face; with the scales, it probably looked hideous.

His entire outfit had altered in subtle ways, he realized. His usual plum tunic and trousers were now a brown suit and waistcoat ensemble, crossed with yellow pinstripes, with a black collared undershirt. A brown, knee-length suit jacket replaced his caplet, with subtle gold trimming. His yellow gloves were unchanged, thank goodness, and his hat…?

His hands flew up to his head and found something perched over his hair, sitting at an angle. Janus yanked down a screen at the console and stared. His beloved bowler had shrunk into a tiny, flat, rakish thing with a wide brim, festooned with a cluster of yellow rosebuds and black beads.

“What on earth, Remus?” he grumbled, turning his head from side to side. Well, if he had to be honest, pinstripes and a hatinator weren’t a terrible look.

“Well, if we’re on a TARDIS, I guess you’re supposed to be the Doctor,” Patton pointed out. “Which would make me your companion.”

Janus stroked his goatee and examined their surroundings in more detail. But am I a Doctor? he wondered. And if so, which one?

And whose TARDIS is this?

Because while it was clear they were on a TARDIS…what other class of spaceship had a time rotor?…he wasn’t almost certain this was not the TARDIS.

Every corner of the Doctor’s ship, no matter which face it belonged to, tended to overflow with bright, shiny, eclectic whimsy. By contrast, this one was plain, stark, with exposed metal beams and sharp angles.

Too dark, too full of shadows.

An awful suspicion rose up in his mind.

He crossed to one of the bookshelves, ignoring Patton’s soft inquiry, and his jaw clenched. There was the Necronomicon, shelved between the Liber Inducens in Evangelium Aeternum and The Black Scrolls of Rassilon, Book of Vile and its Black Appendix, The Ambuehl Lores and the Insidium of Astrolabus.

Janus finally looked at the sonic device he’d been holding all this time; seeing now that it wasn’t a screwdriver at all, and thanked every god he knew that he hadn’t tried to use it on Patton earlier.

It was a sonic laser.

Once again, even in a stupid, nonsensical dream, Janus had been cast as the villain.

His fist had collided with the bookshelf before he even realized he was moving, books falling to the floor. He punched it again, and again, until a cool rigid hand closed around his wrist and yanked him back.

“Janus, Janus, stop!” Patton yelled in his ear.

Janus wrenched his arm away and stalked back to the console, running gloved fingers over his scales, pushing them up and smoothing them down. The familiar sensation grounded him.

“You were right, Patton,” he threw over his shoulder. “This is definitely one of Roman’s dreams, and he definitely fucking hates me.”

Patton’s heavy footsteps clattered behind him.

“Language. And how do you know that,” he asked. “…Doctor?”

Janus whirled, lips curled in a snarl.

“I am not the Doctor, Patton, and we are not on the TARDIS.” He spread his arms to encompass them both, gesturing to the dimly lit spaceship. “Look around. Look at me!”

He turned, slowly, and eyed his mustached visage in the dark view screen.

“Clearly, I am the Master.”

Chapter 4- Nightmare in Silver

“You think he knows what he’s doing?”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.”

Patton rested his arms against the console and sighed.

Once again, someone I care about is upset, and I don’t know what to do. I guess I should be used to it by now.

It didn’t help that it was so cold in this TARDIS. He folded his arms around his middle, which felt strange and heavy, to combat the chill that seemed to have settled deep in his bones.

Janus stalked past again, grumbling to himself.

“Of course the Prince would pull me into one of his little ‘adventures’ without my consent. He probably needed an antagonist. And naturally the slippery snake would have been the first person to come to mind!”

Patton opened his mouth…though he had no idea what he was going to say…but Janus drowned him out.

“Come on, Roman!” he shouted, throwing his yellow-clad hands up. “You’ve had your fun. Yes, I’m evil, I’m the villain, I’m the bad guy, blah blah. Let’s have our epic confrontation or whatever nonsense you have planned, as I would very much like to get back to my reading sometime tonight.”

Silence.

Patton didn’t know what Janus was expecting.

“Look, maybe we should just play along for now?” Patton said aloud, wincing when Janus turned his murderous expression on him. The deceptive Side had such deep, cutting golden eyes, the human one so much darker than the other…cynical eyes that were, ironically, almost impossible to lie to.

They’d see straight through it.

“It takes a liar to know a liar.”

The glare quickly softened, though, which in Patton’s opinion said a lot about how far Janus had come.

“And how do you propossse we ‘play along’?” Janus said, hissing his s’s in frustration.

“Well, we’ve kinda decided this is Roman’s dream, right? And since we’re in his part of the Imagination, we know he won’t let anything bad happen to us…”

Patton trailed off at Janus’s pained expression, reminded of just how badly Janus and Roman’s last encounter had gone.

“What are you, a middle school librarian?”

“Thank god you don’t have a mustache.”

And I just stood there and did nothing…no, I can’t dwell on that right now. Patton shook himself out of the memory.

It was surprisingly easy; even his emotions felt a little heavy and muted. He supposed he wasn’t used to being in a dreamscape; unlike Roman, who played in them all the time.

I know Roman, Patton reasoned. He might hold a grudge for a while, but he wouldn’t actually be out to hurt Janus.

Right?

“So, if we’re on a time ship, on some kind of adventure leading up to a confrontation like you said, the first thing we’d have to do is figure out where we need to go,” Patton finished, shrugging.

Janus pursed his lips…which looked downright weird with a mustache and goatee, almost making Patton giggle…and began pushing buttons on the console.

“You are definitely incorrect, Patton,” he said, pulling up another screen and flipping a few switches. “If I have been cast as the villain in this ridiculous charade, that means Roman is likely prancing around as the Doctor right now, on the proper TARDIS. Which, as the Doctor’s nemesis, I should be able to contact…ha!”

The screen burst into static.

“Doctor, oh Doctor, do you read me?” Janus crooned, and if Patton hadn’t known just how angry he was in that moment…well, he would have never known.

Janus had tucked it away entirely, in half a second's time.

That’s the scary thing about him, Patton realized uneasily. He’s smart, nearly as smart as Logan. Smart enough to run circles around me, that’s for sure. And he’s easily as good an actor as Roman.

Those attributes, combined with his naturally manipulative nature, made it difficult to trust him.

Patton was trying.

He’d been trying since the wedding, and well, since everything else that had happened. (Patton still cringed when Thomas encountered even a picture of a frog.) He’d done a lot of thinking and growing that day (in more ways than one!), and he’d come to a disturbing, but inevitable conclusion.

Janus wasn’t evil.

He never had been.

Just like Virgil had never been evil. Mean, sure; and sarcastic, and spiteful…but at his core, Virgil had wanted what was best for Thomas.

They all did.

And then there was the uncomfortable corollary to that: Patton, despite his best efforts, despite his core Purpose…Patton wasn’t entirely and automatically good.

Two weeks ago, Janus had proven beyond a doubt that Thomas needed him…ruthlessly, cuttingly, but no one could say he hadn’t made his point. It had been Patton who’d inadvertently pushed Thomas to the brink of a breakdown, and Janus who had to pull them all back.

Despite Patton’s unease, and the little voice in his head telling him that Deceit couldn’t be trusted, could never truly be trusted because it was in his nature to deceive…Patton remembered how they’d pushed Virgil so hard he decided to duck out, and how much of a tragedy that could have been if they hadn’t all intervened to bring him back.

With a pang of guilt, he pictured Thomas lying on the floor, crushed under the metaphorical weight of everything Patton needed him to do to keep from being a bad person…

He would not make those mistakes again.

If Virgil could learn to work with them instead of against them, so could Janus. If Patton could learn to recognize when his own Purpose did more harm than good, so could Janus.

Patton had to believe that.

He’d made too many mistakes lately to believe otherwise.

The screen in Janus’s hands cleared to reveal…

“What? Logan??” Janus exclaimed, as a scream echoed somewhere in the background.

“D—Janus?” Logan countered, then looked over his shoulder. “Roman, for the love of Archimedes, will you stop shrieking? I cannot hear.”

The screaming cut off and Roman’s fuming face squished into the frame with Logan.

“Deceit! I should have known you would show up to ruin this!” he managed to shout before Logan shoved him away.

“Ruin…I’m sorry, what?�� Janus glanced at Patton, looking honestly confused. “Is he roleplaying right now? We assumed this scenario was Roman’s creation.”

Onscreen, Logan placed his whole hand against Roman’s mouth to prevent him from interrupting.

“It is. But to my understanding, it was only supposed to involve myself and Roman, and…wait. You said ’we’.” Logan peered around. “Who else is with you?”

Patton started to wave, but his view was blocked by Janus bending close to the screen to whisper something. Suspicion flared in Patton’s stomach; old, familiar, but after the talk he’d just given himself, he purposefully pushed it down.

I won’t assume he’s being shifty unless he actually gives me a reason to.

Lifting his chin, he crept forward until he was next to Janus’s shoulder.

“Hey, Logan,” he said brightly, waving.

“Ah…hello, Patton,” Logan squeaked after a moment, his eyes still wide.

“Wait, Patton’s there? With the snake?” Roman’s voice yelled from the background, and then there was Roman’s face again.

“Patton?” Roman said, narrowing his eyes. “But why are you—?”

Both faces disappeared for a moment as Logan yanked Roman out of frame. Patton thought he heard a rapid, hushed conversation. He glanced at Janus, who only shrugged, looking at puzzled as Patton felt.

Roman’s face reappeared, solemn and deeply annoyed.

“Patton,” he said, and hesitated. “D—Janus. You two…well, you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Very reassuring,” Janus quipped.

“This was only supposed to be a two-person adventure: Doctor plus companion. I have no idea why the Imagination brought you both in as well; I certainly didn’t tell it to.”

“Aw, that’s okay, kiddo,” Patton started gently. “It’s not your fault—”

“Oh, sweetie.” Janus folded his arms. “I’m sorry, but that’s bull. Putting me in the Master’s shoes? Are we seriously going to pretend the Side who unashamedly hates me had nothing to do with that?”

“I didn’t!” Roman argued, his voice going high. “You really think I wanted you here, in any capacity?”

“Deceit…er, Janus, you are being unnecessarily antagonistic, and as such, unhelpful,” Logan cut in with his low, reassuring voice. “But Roman, it might behoove us to consider the role of subconscious influence. You may not have intended to pull the others in, and yet here they are.”

Roman looked at Logan, aghast, and Patton almost flinched at the raw hurt in his caramel eyes. The creative Side backed out of frame.

“So you’re on his side, too,” his voice said quietly. “Is that how it is?”

“I am not on anyone’s side,” Logan argued, raising his hands. “We are all currently in this situation together, and as such—”

Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off by another garbled transmission, taking over the screen and blocking out Logan’s face with crackly, purple static. A gray, snarling face flashed out of the haze, making Patton shriek in surprise and even Janus took a step back.

Then it was gone, dissolving back to static…and the sound of someone laughing filled the connection.

“Hellooooo, nurse,” a familiar sing-song voice crooned. “Did you miss me?”

Chapter 5- The Long Game

“You can’t just read the guide book, you’ve got to throw yourself in. Eat the food, use the wrong verbs, get charged double and end up kissing complete strangers. Or is that just me?”

Logan sighed.

He knew that voice; they all did. Even Thomas, unfortunately.

“Remus,” Roman hissed.

The mustached Side filled the screen, grinning madly. “Boo!”

“Get out of my scenario,” Roman said, his eyes flashing. “If you know what’s good for you.”

“Your scenario?” Remus echoed, faux-outrage in his expression. “Yours? The Dream Palace is my domain, too, brother, whether you like it or not.” He leaned closer, letting his nostrils and a single radioactive green eye fill the screen. “Did you really think you could keep me out?”

Roman made a sound of disgust deep in his throat.

“Am I to assume, then, that you are responsible for bringing in the other Sides?” Logan asked, careful to keep his voice even. Remus thrived on getting a rise out of people.

“Of course he is!” Roman snapped, throwing up his hands. “He loves to ruin things, especially my things.”

“Now why would having the others here ruin anything, brother?” Remus asked in a sickly sweet voice, propping his head on his hand. “Unless you intended for this nighttime romp between you and Logan to be private?”

Roman sputtered and glanced at Logan, red-faced, as Remus giggled.

“It was meant to be so, yes,” Logan supplied, unsure why Remus would find that funny…or why Roman would find it embarrassing.

“As amusing as this all is—” Janus’s crooning voice cut through the speaker.

“Great. You’re still here, snake?” Roman snarked, his arms folded around himself.

“We’re all listening, kiddo,” Patton’s metallic voice said.

Roman’s lips always curl into a pout when he is angry, Logan thought, eyeing him without turning his head, and he gets a little wrinkle between his eyebrows. Why…why am I noticing such things all of a sudden?

Maybe it was the stress, or the unfamiliar environment.

Or maybe it was the Rose Tyler outfit.

That skirt ought to be illegal.

Logan deliberately focused on the screen, his cheeks warm.

“So this is kinda new,” Patton went on, “all of us actually talking—”

“If Remus is responsible,” Janus cut in again, “then perhaps he would be so kind as to explain the objective of this late night group therapy session?”

Despite the biting sarcasm, Logan did appreciate Janus’s insistence that they get to the point, even if it did mean talking over Patton…

Speaking of, why would Remus have paired Patton with Janus?

Surely he should have grouped Patton with Logan and Roman, and put Virgil with Janus? Or…maybe not, given how Virgil hisses if Janus so much as enters the same room.

Ugh. Interpersonal drama. Logan was thoroughly sick of trying to keep track of who carried a grudge against whom, especially when it seemed to change from day to day.

And on top of that, why would Remus make Patton a Cyberman? None of these decisions make any sense…

“Right?” Roman agreed softly next to him, and Logan realized he’d said that last bit out loud.

“If anything, I should have been the unfeeling killer robot,” Logan murmured.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Specs.” Roman shot him a strange look, both warm and troubled. “And frankly I don’t give a stinky rat’s ass about my stinky rat brother’s sick thought process. What I want to know is why Deceit doesn’t want us to mention it around Patton?”

Logan, who was still mentally stuck on rodents and donkeys…Roman’s metaphors were always something else…shook his head slightly.

“There’s no logical way Patton is unaware of his condition,” Logan pointed out. “So I can only guess he wishes to protect Patton’s feelings on the matter, by not allowing us to talk about it in front of him.” He shrugged when Roman’s frown deepened. “Those two have been getting along much better these last few weeks.”

“I think you’re giving the snake too much credit,” Roman muttered. “Even after he impersonated you, Logan? C’mon. It has to be something else.”

Logan bit back a sigh.

He doesn’t understand, he thought guiltily. Because he doesn’t know what really happened…

#

“This is unacceptable, Deceit,” Logan snapped, flinging the crook away from his body. “I was in the middle of a discussion—”

“He won’t listen to you,” Deceit had said, and there was no sarcasm or snark in his voice.

“Patton asked for my opinion!”

“And he dismissed you from the conversation the moment that opinion went against his preconceived notions!” Deceit snapped back.

Silence.

Logan could hear the others still talking, out in the real world…without him…as the misty dregs of subconscious curled around their feet.

“You tricked him.” Logan folded his arms. “He was scared and off balance and you gave him an out.”

“I didn’t make him take it!”

Deceit sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Logan. You know he is wrong on this. You know what this is doing to Thomas. His unquestioning, black-and-white, juvenile morality; it’s not working anymore. Thomas needs to grow up, and Patton is not letting him.”

Logan bit his lip.

“Logan.” Deceit moved closer, dismissing his crook into mist and setting both gloved hands on Logan’s shoulders. Logan stiffened.

“Logic. Please. I am…no good at this.” Deceit dropped his head, his hat obscuring his eyes. “I operate through deceit because that is the only way I can make them acknowledge me.”

“They don’t acknowledge you because you operate through deceit,” Logan pointed out.

“A perfect catch 22.” Deceit let out a bitter laugh. “But a snake cannot change its scales and I don’t…I have tried everything I know. I cannot fix this from the shadows. I am out of ideas.”

A strange thought entered Logan’s mind.

“You care. You care what happens to Thomas.”

Deceit looked up, his mismatched eyes glittering with stinging intensity. “I am the literal representation of selfishness. Why the hell else would I go to all this trouble if I didn’t care?”

“Well…” Logan trailed off, troubled.

He’d let the others get to him, he realized in that moment. He’d let Roman get to him, with his talk of evil and Dark Sides and how they were always trying to tempt Thomas off the right path.

But…they were all part of Thomas, even the so-called “dark sides”.

Of course they wanted what was best for him…well, what Remus wanted at any given moment was debatable…even if they didn’t always go about it in the healthiest of ways.

Deceit had laughed then, high pitched and bitter.

“Really? Really? Even you think so low of me?”

“You are manipulating me right now.” Logan frowned. “You are using my concern for Thomas to make me trust you.”

“Yes! I am!” Deceit got in his face, fangs flashing. “I am a manipulative bastard because that is the lens through which my Source perceives me. But that doesn’t matter because you, Logic; you see through me, always have. And you know perfectly well that logically, any objection you have to my personality or my methods does not change the fact that I. Am. Right.”

He punctuated each word with a poke to Logan’s chest.

“Deceit—” Logan started.

“Janus.”

“What?”

Deceit sighed. “My name. My…real name. It’s Janus.”

Logan blinked. He knew the mythology, of course: Janus, keeper of doorways and thresholds, looking simultaneously to the past and future. Two faces. Seeing things from every angle.

Self-preservation.

“It suits you,” Logan said quietly.

Tension bled out of Janus’s shoulders, a stiffness Logan hadn’t even realized was there until it was gone.

“Thank you.”

“Why am I here…Janus?” Logan asked, glancing away. “What do you need from me?”

Janus looked at him intently.

“Let me speak to them as you.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, and Janus sighed, waving a hand.

“I know, I know, more deceit, more lies, but—”

“No, it’s…” Logan pressed his lips together. “You already pointed it out. They don’t listen to me, either.”

The bitter twist that accompanied those words was becoming an all too familiar sensation in Logan’s chest.

Janus snorted.

“Oh, they do. Eventually. They heeded your advice on how to deal with Remus.”

Logan shrugged uncomfortably.

“Look,” Janus added, “honest people know how to tell the truth, but liars…” he smirked, not especially nicely. “We know how to wield the truth to accomplish an end. I can pull Thomas and the others out of this rut, but they have to be receptive to my tugging on the reins.”

Logan pursed his lips.

“You won’t fool them. If you recall, you tried to impersonate me once already and barely lasted two minutes.”

“I didn’t have your blessing.”

Janus fixed Logan with his intense mismatched eyes again, and held out a hand.

Logan stared at it, torn.

This was Deceit, the master liar: Thomas’s entire capacity for deception condensed into a single, snake-faced Side. How could Logan possibly trust him to not make things worse, after all the falsehoods, the impersonations, how he’d manipulated them all in one way or another to get his way?

But…as much as Logan, personally, didn’t understand why that callback had been so important to Thomas…he could not dismiss the fallout Thomas had suffered as a result of missing it. The decision to attend the wedding had turned out to be a bad one.

Patton had been wrong to insist upon it over Janus’s objections, and over Roman’s.

Those were just the facts.

Janus sighed.

“I’ll unmask myself when an opportunity arises, if that would help,” he offered, and to Logan’s shock, slowly tugged off a glove. “I won’t…I won’t let it go on as long as it did with Patton.”

He offered his now bare hand to Logan again.

Out in the real world, Logan could hear Patton’s increasingly desperate and ridiculous responses to Thomas’s and Roman’s questions, and winced. Janus did the same.

“Please,” was all he said.

Logan sighed…it really couldn’t get any worse, could it?…and shook Janus’s hand.

#

In his TARDIS, Logan let out the sigh he was holding back.

He might have personal, concrete evidence that Janus wasn’t evil, but he also knew Janus had wounded Roman, badly, that day. The creative Side was simply not currently capable of viewing any situation involving Janus with any sort of objectivity.

Passionate, sensitive people like Roman tended to have an unfortunate habit of hanging onto grudges.

As Logic, Logan needed to remember that.

“Oh, all right,” Remus said, his voice crackling over the connection. “Since you’re all here—”

“Actually, Remus, we’re not all here,” Patton’s voice pointed out. “You all know perfectly well who we’re missing; we’ve done this before.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “‘Where is Anxiety?’” he quoted.

“You mean Tickle Me Emo isn’t with one of you?” Remus asked, looking delighted. “Oh dear, oh dear. Is he lost?”

“I mean, TARDISes are huge,” Roman pointed out. “He could be somewhere on one of our ships.” His voice dropped again. “I’ll bet Deceit stashed him away, because we all know how he hates Virgil.”

“Excuse you,” Janus’s voice interrupted, annoyed. “It is Virgil who hates me, not the other way around.”

“Let’s both scan our ships,” Logan suggested, hoping to head off an argument. Honestly, if Roman and Janus didn’t stop picking fights with one another, he was going to lose his marbles.

The scans pulled up nothing.

“Oh well,” Remus said with a shrug. “Guess the emo gets to miss out.”

Janus grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “lucky”.

“All right, here’s what’s going to happen.” Remus leaned close to the screen. “I’ve crash landed on a lovely snowbound planet that’s crawling with psychotic tin cans who like to roll around yelling ‘exterminate’.”

“Daleks? A snowbound planet, so not Skarro, but where else…” Logan narrowed his eyes.

“He’s on the Dalek asylum,” Roman said lowly. “That was one of the episodes I had in mind when I plotted this adventure.”

“Very good, brother.” Remus clapped his hands. “And up there in orbit is a ship full of people who’d really like to blow up the whole planet. Oh, woe is me, whatever shall I—”

“Save it,” Roman snapped. “You’d probably enjoy getting blown up.”

“Hmm, true.” Remus’s green eyes sharpened. “Think of the mess! Little bits of intestines floating through space, long pink ropey—”

“Or?” Logan interjected, before Remus gave Patton nightmares.

“Or you have to come rescue me!” Remus’s teeth flashed as he grinned. “Because otherwise it’s nighty-night for me and all the other aliens in the asylum.”

There was a beat of silence.

“As terrible as that sounds,” Janus drawled, sounding anything but worried, “given that none of this is real, and at least one of us would very much rather not be here at all…why exactly should your plight concern us?”

Logan secretly agreed, but felt his stomach clench when he glanced at Roman’s troubled face. None of this was real…right? Would something concretely bad happen to Remus if the planet he inhabited was blown up?

Surely not.

This was only a dream. Perhaps, then, Roman was merely upset that his twin had usurped his adventure for the night?

“Also.” Remus buffed his fingernails. “You should know that the Imagination will only release us if we complete the objective. In other words,” and he sneered, purple-shadowed eyes glittering, “we’re all stuck in this scenario until we’re all reunited.”

Remus giggled as Logan exchanged a shocked look with Roman.

“I don’t believe you. This was my dream,” Roman said darkly. “And I’ve just about had enough of all this!”

He stepped back and snapped his fingers with a flourish. Frowning, he did it again, and again, his face growing paler with each try.

“Roman, what—” Logan started.

“I can’t end it,” Roman whispered, still snapping. “He’s right. He’s…he’s sealed off the dream’s boundaries somehow. Remus!”

This he roared at the screen.

“Keeping Thomas trapped in a dream state is going too far, Remus!” he yelled. “I don’t care what kind of demented game you want to play with us, but we don’t bring Thomas into it.”

“Oh, you think I created an unbreakable dreamscape?” Remus snapped. “You let the Imagination have too much reign, my dear brother, and now neither of us have the power to end the dream ourselves. I estimate we have about ten hours before Thomas wakes up.”

For a moment, all Logan could hear was the soft whoosh of the time rotor, and Roman’s shallow, angry breathing at his shoulder.

“So I suggest you all pilot your ships to these coordinates,” Remus added, and a series of numbers and strange symbols flashed up on one of the smaller console screens. “And get started.”

The main screen blipped, and Remus’s face was replaced by an expressionless Cyberman and a snake-faced Side who looked extremely pale under his scales.

“Well,” Logan stated. “This is a problem.”

Chapter 6- Asylum of the Daleks

“You’re going to fire me at a planet? That’s your plan? I get fired at a planet and expected to fix it?”

“In fairness, that is slightly your M.O.”

“Don’t be fair to the Daleks when they’re firing me at a planet.”

The familiar wheeze of the TARDIS materializing filled Roman’s ears as he waited by the doors. Logan joined him a moment later.

“Ready?” he asked, smoothing a hand over his cravat.

He looks good as the Doctor, Roman thought, eying the slimming black and navy, the graceful arc that hand made as it adjusted a pair of glasses…

He shook himself out of his distraction. “Let’s do this, nerd.”

Logan opened the doors and the two stepped out…not onto the asylum, but onto a spaceship. Shiny copper terraces lined the vast walls in curving rows, leading the eye up to a domed ceiling with a clear view of black, star-studded space. Like a huge amphitheater, or stadium. Even Roman had to admit, the Imagination had really outdone itself on the realism.

Of course, given that the ship was filled with hundreds upon hundreds of Daleks calling for violence…realism wasn’t exactly comforting at the moment.

“Surprise, surprise, I don’t see my stupid brother,” Roman commented over the dull roar of the crowd.

“No. But I recognize where we are.” Logan waved a hand. “You were right about Remus’s location; this ship is from the episode ‘Asylum of the Daleks’, in Season 7. If we are following the basic plotline, Remus is likely somewhere down on the planet below, and we will be sent to him in due course. However…I am curious as to why all the other aliens are here.”

Roman looked around again, seeing that Logan was right. Daleks formed the majority of the crowd, but he also spotted Zygons, Sontarans, Silurians, other Cybermen, Ice Warriors…and quite a few aliens from older seasons he couldn’t remember the names of.

(Logan probably could.)

A second TARDIS materialized near their familiar blue box: plain, gray; a squat column of a ship. Janus emerged first, a silver instrument gripped in one gloved hand, followed by an old-school Cyberman…Patton. Roman frowned. Seeing that metal…being…and having to remember it was actually his friend was going to be difficult now that there wasn’t a screen separating them.

“Nice work, Roman,” Janus said, sidling up next to him and faux-clapping his hands. “A ship full of aliens who want us dead; always an excellent starting point for an adventure.”

“This is how the episode starts, Mr. Oh-I’m-Such-an-Expert-in-Doctor-Who,” Roman retorted. “Accuracy is important.”

“But this isn’t accurate,” Logan pointed out. “There should only be Daleks here.”

Roman folded his arms, stung.

Damn Logan and his damned need to be right all the time.

“I…well, I didn’t model this adventure after just one particular episode,” Roman admitted. “I wanted it to be a challenge, and it wouldn’t be if Logan and I already knew the ending. So no, I can’t exactly explain why all the other aliens are here, okay?”

Logan sighed.

“I was not criticizing you, Roman,” he said in a gentler voice. “As this has apparently become as much Remus’s and the Imagination’s handiwork as it is yours, it would be unreasonable to expect you to know what comes next.”

“THE DOCTOR AND THE MASTER WILL APPROACH THE SUPREME DALEK,” a grating robotic voice boomed across the ship, making them all whip around. A large white Dalek with an antenna on its shell loomed on a raised stage near the center of the amphitheater.

“They were expecting me, too?” Janus raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

The lights on the Dalek’s head flashed as it spoke again.

“THE DOCTOR AND THE MASTER WILL APPROACH WITH THEIR COMPANIONS.”

The four Sides exchanged a glance, and weaved through the assembled Daleks to the raised stage. The White Supreme Dalek was not the only occupant; it was flanked by an Ice Warrior, an Emojibot (which made Patton giggle), and…

“Look, a Janus,” Roman chortled, nudging the snake-faced Side in the ribs and pointing out the two-faced alien.

“You are all nerds and my logo is a two-headed snake,” Janus complained, rolling his eyes. “I literally do not know how all of you missed that obvious clue to my name.”

“DOCTOR,” the White Dalek said as they climbed the dais. “MASTER. WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF THE DALEK ASYLUM?”

“I’m just impressed my rat-faced brother wasn’t lying about his location,” Roman grumbled, and sputtered when Logan placed a hand over his mouth.

“According to legend,” Logan said, “you have a dumping ground, a planet where you lock up all the Daleks that go wrong.”

“The battle-scarred, the insane. The ones even you can’t control,” Janus clarified. His voice dropped to a hiss. “No wonder they ssstuck Remus there.”

Roman covered his mouth to keep from snorting.

The snake would not make him laugh.

“CORRECT.” The Dalek pushed a button and a hole opened in the middle of the floor. A snow-covered planet lay below them, pristine from this high up.

“Ooh, that’s,” Patton started, and let out a metallic gulp. “That’s quite a drop. Do we, ah, have to go down the same way? Cause I remember that part, and—”

“How many Daleks are down there?” Logan asked.

“A COUNT HAS NOT BEEN MADE,” the white Dalek said.

“Millions, certainly,” a new voice chimed in. The tall, robed, dark-skinned Janus stepped forward, their front face addressing them. “But they will not be your only concern. The population of the planet consists of more than just Daleks.”

Roman exchanged a suspicious glance with Logan. This wasn’t in the episode. This is new.

“What do you mean?” Janus, their Janus, asked.

The alien Janus turned to a nearby monitor, pulling up some information. The backward-facing face continued to address them.

“Some time ago, the Daleks began noticing a curious phenomenon,” they said. “Random people, from all different races and species, started turning up on various planets in this quadrant of space, including the asylum. No ships, no technology, and no knowledge of how they’d gotten there. At first the imprisoned Daleks on the asylum simply killed them off as they appeared—”

Patton visibly winced, even with his metal body, and Logan’s eyes grew flinty.

“—but the new arrivals eventually became too many to exterminate,” the alien Janus went on, unconcerned. “By now we suspect the planet has a population of over a billion, far too many for its automated systems to handle.”

They turned their forward face to the four again.

“THE ASYLUM IS COMPROMISED,” the Dalek Supreme proclaimed. “IT MUST BE CLEANSED.”

“Hang on, you’re still going to blow the whole planet up?” Roman protested. “A billion people?”

“To be fair, that is what they did in the original episode,” Logan pointed out quietly.

“But that was just Daleks!”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Ah, so genocide is fine when it’s only the evil aliens getting blown up?”

“You know, somehow I’m not surprised to hear you defending the bad guys!” Roman snapped.

“That is enough!” Patton snapped in his robotic voice, stepping between them and raising both his hands. Laser pistols popped out of both of them, making both Roman and Janus step back in alarm.

After a tense moment, Patton lowered his arms again; the guns clicked and vanished into their casings.

“Uh, sorry kiddos, I don’t know what came over me,” he said in a sheepish, more Patton-y voice. “Can we please not fight? It…it kinda makes me feel weird and jittery when you do.”

Roman stared at Patton’s blank Cyberman face and armored Cyberman body and swallowed, hard.

Their Patton would never deliberately aim a gun at anyone, let alone his family. But Cybermen were created to eliminate…or rather, delete…anyone who got in their way.

Did Patton even realize what he’d almost done?

What would happen, if and when he was forced to confront the reality of his body in this realm? What if he didn’t figure it out until he accidentally did something terrible? It wouldn’t be real, of course, but to Patton…that wouldn’t matter.

If his Cyberman programming forced or tricked him into hurting someone, the guilt of it would devastate him.

All I wanted to do was take Logan on an adventure, Roman thought bitterly. A fun little dream adventure where he could play one of his heroes. Was that too much to ask, Imagination?

He folded his arms and glared around the Dalek ship, anywhere but at his fellow Sides.

Whatever the hell this has turned into, I want no part of it anymore.

“In order for us to destroy the planet, we will need you to disable the planet’s forcefield—” The alien Janus started, but Logan held up a finger.

“Excuse you,” he said sharply. “We have not agreed to do anything, least of all help you murder a billion people whose only crime is to have accidentally turned up in your prison. Have you even attempted to solve that mystery?"

"And why do you care what happens down there?" Roman added, sneering. "If the insane Daleks are armed—”

“DALEKS ARE ALWAYS ARMED,” the white Dalek proclaimed.

“—then why can’t they defend themselves?” Logan finished, shooting Roman a questioning glance.

Roman huffed, and looked away.

“At first they did,” the Janus explained. “But as I said, the automated systems cannot keep up with the influx. Wars are being fought over food and other resources as we speak. A starliner crashed on the surface mere days ago, and—”

“Ah,” Logan said slowly. “You’re afraid, with all the shifting alliances and new activity, that the mad Daleks will escape in the confusion.”

“We do not know who or what is behind the influx,” the Janus said. “But eventually, they will start coming with ships, or they will build them on the surface, or reach out to those who could attempt a rescue.”

“‘If sssomeone can get in, everything can get out’,” their Janus quoted darkly.

The other Janus nodded. “Even the Daleks agree, their mad brethren cannot be allowed to escape. We, of this assembly—”

They waved to the assembled crowd of aliens, who observed in eerie silence.

“—have decided that one planet must be sacrificed for the greater good of the universe.”

Roman slowly and deliberately drew his sword (which the Imagination had kindly left as part of his outfit). It rasped as it emerged, the sound hair-raising in the sudden lull.

Instantly every Dalek gunstick and alien weapon on the ship was primed and pointed at the four Sides.

“And if we refuse?” Roman said evenly.

“THE DOCTOR AND THE MASTER WILL COOPERATE,” the Supreme Dalek warned, its lights flashing balefully.

“COOPERATE! COOPERATE!” the cry was echoed by the other Daleks, filling the ship with a cacophony of robot voices.

The alien Janus shrugged, spreading their hands.

“You don’t really have a choice. If you want to live, that is.”

“Is that so.”

Roman tensed and sprang at the white Dalek, not giving himself time to think. He dodged a blast from its gunstick and leaped, bringing his sword down hard. This being the Imagination, the katana cut through the Dalek’s metal armor like butter, and it clattered to the deck in two pieces.

There was a shocked silence…but no retaliation.

“Well?” Roman shouted, spreading his arms and turning in a slow circle. “This is me, not cooperating. What are you waiting for? Are you really going to shoot us?”

If they all died on this spaceship…the worst that would happen is they’d be kicked from the Imagination, and that was what they wanted, anyway.

“Roman,” Logan warned quietly, pointing.

Roman looked.

The white Dalek’s shell was…laughing?

“Oh, Roman,” Remus’s crackly voice emerged from the fallen Dalek’s casing. “Roman, Roman, Roman. My poor brave brother who thinks he can solve all his problems with steel and bravado. Did you really think it would be that easy?”

Each word bit like sandpaper against Roman’s ears.

He growled, and stalked to the Dalek’s top half, snatching it up and quickly locating a tiny speaker.

“C’mon, Remus. End this stupid charade,” he said quietly, holding the casing to his face so he could speak quietly. “You’ve had your fun at my expense. Go back to your pile of severed limbs and gloat if you must, but end this. For Patton’s sake, if nothing else.”

“I’ve already told you, it’s out of my hands,” Remus responded; typically, annoyingly casual. “If you want to end the game, you have to come down here and find me.”

Roman exhaled, resting his head against the cold, bumpy metal for a moment. His eyes burned, but he was Prince; he wouldn’t cry, not here.

“Why must you make everything difficult?”

“Roman, in all seriousness,” Remus’s voice dropped. “I didn’t know you were taking Logan on a date tonight—”

“It’s not a date,” Roman hissed, glancing at the other Sides…one in particular.

“The Imagination brought me into this without asking, just like it pulled the others in,” Remus went on. “I am aware of what has to happen, but I did not cause this.”

“You’re lying,” Roman said tonelessly.

Remus’s whiny voice grew hard.

“I don’t lie, and you despise that about me. You hide so much shit from yourself that it baffles you when I refuse to do the same.”

“Look,” Remus added when Roman didn’t respond. “The Imagination is clearly trying to get our attention. Sure, it usually goes through one of us first, but it doesn’t have to. When it comes down to it, Thomas’s mind answers only to Thomas. ”

“How are you so sure?” Roman frowned.

Was Remus seriously suggesting the Imagination they both oversaw had gone rogue somehow?

“Because I don’t curate my side as meticulously as you do, brother.” Remus chuckled. “I listen. I let the Imagination do as she pleases, free from all those pesky ethics and morals and other boring boxes you always force her into, so that our sweet Thomas doesn’t fear the contents of his own head.”

“You expect me to believe that you know what’s going on because,” Roman let every ounce of disdain seep into his voice, “the Imagination talks to you, and not me…because you don’t make her behave?”

“You should try letting her loose sometimes,” Remus drawled, “or you’ll end up with a cane up your butt like Nerdy Wolverine over there.”

“Don’t call him that,” Roman spat.

“What you so-called ‘light sides’ always get wrong,” Remus went on, “is that the juicy stuff, the gruesome and grim, the ‘bad’ thoughts that filter up from the subconscious; they can’t all be locked away and ignored.” His voice dropped ominously. “Repression can be very bad indeed, you know.”

Roman’s reasonable nature knew that his brother, despite his infuriating attitude, was actually making some good points. Thomas had been dealing with a lot lately; the tension in the mindspace felt like a ticking clock, counting down to the next disaster.

But at that moment, Roman had no desire to humor his twin.

All he wanted to do was lock himself into his own room in the Dream Palace and spend the rest of the night writing sad poetry about love, or listing his mistakes to himself until he fell asleep.

“I just wanted to show Logan a good time,” he said aloud.

“And oh dear, apparently you couldn’t even manage that correctly,” Remus said, implacably. “So maybe you should use this opportunity to get your head out of your poopy ass, and reevaluate yourself.”

Roman slammed the Dalek shell against the floor.

It cracked upon impact, the wiring inside sparking and finally flickering down to darkness. He ran his hands through his hair, reminded, once again, why he hated talking to his brother.

Like looking in a funhouse mirror…

“Roman…” Patton sidled up behind him, laying a cold hand on his back. Roman shoved the metal arm away and stalked back to the others.

“Let’s just get this done,” he said in a low voice.

“You will need these,” the alien Janus said, pushing a button on a nearby console. A translucent vertical tube rose from a gap in the floor, holding three bulky black bracelets.

“Ah yes, I remember this,” Logan said, striding forward and taking a bracelet.

“They will prevent—” the Janus started.

“The nano cloud from converting us into Dalek puppets, yes?” Logan interrupted, snapping the bracelet onto his wrist and handing another to Roman.

The nerd is getting into this, Roman thought as he put it on. I guess that’s something.

“The cloud is only active in certain areas of the asylum,” the Janus warned them again. “And those change as different factions seize control of different areas and weaponize them.”

Patton hesitantly raised a hand.

“Um, Mx. Alien, I can’t help but notice that there are only three bracelets, and four of us?”

Logan frowned. “But Patton, why would you—?”

“I’m sure it’s because I’m part snake, Patton,” Janus interrupted smoothly, swooping in to grab the last bracelet and snapping it onto Patton’s arm.

Roman exchanged an alarmed look with Logan; that was the last bit of confirmation he needed. Patton really was unaware that he was a Cyberman.

But why on earth would Janus go to such lengths to keep him in the dark about it? Even leaving aside the fact that Patton was a walking weapon; being a machine, he didn’t need protection from the nano cloud at all.

Whereas Janus…probably did.

But when Roman opened his mouth, Janus shot him a look full of daggers and promises of pain, and shook his head. Roman rolled his eyes and mentally washed his hands of the situation.

Typical Deceit. Protecting his lies.

At least Patton would be twice-protected. If the snake wanted to risk his life for a lie, let him.

“The gravity beam will convey you close to the crashed starliner,” the alien Janus said, and then there were Dalek blasters being shoved into their backs, propelling them toward the hole in the floor.

“Oi,” Roman protested, “get your freaky little eggbeater appendages away from me, you AAAAHHHH!”

There was a push, and they were falling.

Chapter 7- Oxygen

“Look at this. Classic design. Pressure seals. Hinges. None of that ‘shuk shuk’ nonsense.”

“Space doors are supposed to go shuk shuk.”

“Are you gonna be like this all day?”

Janus was done.

He sat up with a groan, brushing snow from his jacket and vest, making sure his hat and gloves were still in place. Everything ached. Bad enough he never wanted to be part this stupid dream game in the first place; now he was probably going to literally turn into a Dalek.

All because the Imagination is being a dick and Patton doesn’t know he’s a killer robot.

Wind gusted around him, making Janus glad that the Master, like the Doctor, usually preferred long sleeves and a coat. He stood, turning in a slow circle as he took in the lay of the land. Nothing but snow and rocks; true to the episode, still.

The gravity beam had split into four as it hurled them at the planet, but Janus was reasonably sure at least one of the others had landed nearby.

He hoped it was Patton.

Not because he was concerned or anything. It was just that either of the others would be absolutely insufferable company, that’s all.

“Janus!” a metallic voice called, and Janus breathed a sigh of relief.

Patton’s Cyberman body clattered awkwardly down a nearby snowbank, sliding the last few feet to land in a heap.

“It is all kinds of chilly down here.” Patton stood, and waved rather nonsensically. “Hullo there, Janus, so ice to see you.”

Janus rolled his eyes. (He would deny to his dying day that the corner of his mouth twitched at the ridiculous pun.)

“If this scenario is consistent with its source material,” he said, gesturing to the closest ridge, “there should be an escape pod from that crashed ship nearby. Come on.”

He set off across the snow, Patton following in his wake.

“Say, what do snowmen call their offspring?”

Janus exhaled carefully. Hoo, boy, maybe Logan wouldn’t have been so bad…

“I haven’t the faintest.”

“Chill-dren!” Patton chortled at Janus’s grimace. “What did one snowman say to another?”

“St. Genesius spare me,” Janus grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What, pray tell, did one snowman say to another?”

“‘Do you smell carrots?’”

Janus quickly covered his mouth.

“You smiled,” Patton crooned.

“I most certainly did not.”

“Okay, okay, one more.” Patton scurried ahead and turned around, so that he was walking backwards. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” Janus said flatly.

“Snow.” Patton hooked his thumbs into the metal rim at waist, like one might on a pair of pants. Janus swallowed and looked away.

“Snow who?”

“Snow laughing matter, Janus, I don’t know why you’re smiling.”

Janus snorted before he could hide it, and cleared his throat.

“I am not smiling, how dare you.”

“That’s twice now!” Patton cackled, the sound coming out all distorted. “Admit it.”

“I refuse,” Janus said, drawing himself up. “You won’t make a liar out of….”

Liar.

He felt the joke fall flat and cringed. Even though Patton’s metal face couldn’t react, those metal shoulders visibly stiffened.

Too soon.

Liar.

Too much history between them.

Besides, you are a liar, his mind whispered. Lies of omission are still lies, Deceit, and you’re doing that right now.

Janus gritted his teeth. They topped a ridge; the expected escaped pod lay half-buried near another ridge, across a flat stretch of snow. The two Sides glanced at each other and continued their journey in silence.

Patton seemed disinclined to continue his little pun war.

Janus badly wanted to say he hadn’t minded the punning, but truthfully, keeping silent was easier. Patton’s baffling ignorance over the state of his own “flesh” was starting to wear on Janus’s conscience. He knew the longer he kept it secret, the worse the fallout would be when Patton finally learned the truth.

The urge to come clean was an unfamiliar one for him, and extremely uncomfortable.

Ironic, the master liar, conflicted about maintaining a lie.

The old him would have laughed, but…the old him hadn’t heard the sincerity in Patton’s voice, when he’d spoken Janus’s true name aloud for the first time. The old him had assumed Thomas would reject him forever…because of Patton.

And then, with Janus still smarting from the sting of Roman’s mockery, Patton had said his name.

Patton had trusted him to take care of Thomas in his stead, when the moral Side knew he had failed at it. The memory still made all Janus’s scales tingle and his heart beat a little sideways.

The new him…this him…couldn’t find it in his small, shriveled, but very much present heart to risk pushing Patton away.

They reached the pod.

Muffled shouts and something that sounded like blaster fire filtered up from inside, making them exchange another glance.

Janus set a hand on the ice-crusted latch.

“Remember, we’ll have to fight our way through a bunch of dead Dalek puppets,” he reminded Patton.

“That’s a lot of noise for just a few puppets,” Patton said softly. “That canonically shouldn’t even be awake yet.”

“I know, and that is strange,” Janus agreed. “Maybe someone got here before us. But we won’t know exactly what to expect until we get down there.”

Patton sighed, a cloud of frost puffing out of his small, rectangular mouth.

Janus pushed the latch, popped his head in, and was met with a scene of utter chaos.

About six or seven human-Dalek puppets, with stalks sticking out of their heads and blasters sticking out of their hands, were locked in a fire fight with a horde of robotic humanoids that looked like they came from the Fourth Doctor’s era, if Janus remembered correctly. Round, bulky shoulders and faces that looked like metal sunbursts.

Both puppets and robots were using the seats as cover, blaster fire zinging back and forth and exploding against the walls in little showers of sparks. Janus and Patton would be directly in the blast zone when they jumped down, a little closer to the robot side.

“Well, someone definitely got here before us,” Janus muttered.

He withdrew his head and studied Patton. Honestly, with his metal body he’d be in far less danger, and those guns in his arms would actually be useful in this situation…but telling Patton he was a walking weapon, now, would definitely not go over well.

“The hatch down into the asylum should be in the cockpit of this thing,” he informed Patton. “There’s a lot of blaster fire, though, so—”

“—don’t get cold feet and hesitate?” Patton finished.

Something in Janus’s heart twisted…something he didn’t dare examine too closely.

“Say, Patton,” he said softly, looking away.

“Yes?”

“What did the hat say to the scarf?”

Patton turned his black Cyberman eyes on Janus.

“What?”

“‘You hang around, and I’ll go a-head’.” Janus let a smirk curl his lips.

Patton was silent for a moment, but then he began to giggle, covering his mouth.

Janus pulled out his sonic laser.

He dropped into the pod with a swing of his legs, catching one of the robots in its metal chest. It fell with a screech, careening into another of its kind, but by then Janus had gained his feet and ducked behind a seat. Patton clattered down behind, with less grace and far more noise…and a random Tivolian tumbled in directly after him.

Patton caught the rodent-faced alien with a startled shout, immediately dropping them again when they screamed and struggled. Janus blinked; where the hell did they come from?

The Tivolian tumbled across the pod’s floor, only making it a few feet before getting cut down with blaster bolts. Janus saw Patton cry out, and caught the Side before he could leap out and draw more hostile fire.

“It’s too late!” he shouted over the noise.

“I should have hung on!” Patton, if he’d had a proper face, would probably be in tears. He hated death. “I don’t know why they were so scared of me!”

Janus could answer that…

“I’m more curious about where they came from,” he said instead, frowning. “They surely weren’t up on the surface with us. It’s like they just teleported in, but Tivolians don’t teleport. They don’t have the technology—”

A blaster bolt exploded across the top of the seat they were hiding behind, showering them in sparks and forcing them both to duck.

“Janus!” Patton snapped. “We need to get out of here!”

“Right.” Janus brandished his sonic. “We’ll just have to run for it.”

He leaped out, activating his weapon, and discovered that a sonic laser had a very satisfying range and kickback. Forget the Doctor’s screwdriver, he thought, blasting a Dalek puppet aside and ducking another gun blast. I wonder if the Imagination will let me keep this…

A cold, dead hand seized the collar of his jacket, yanking him back.

Then there was a yell, a clatter, and Janus turned in time to see Patton blast a puppet with a fire extinguisher. The moral Side chuckled at Janus’s shocked expression.

“I’ve seen this episode too, you know,” he pointed out.

Janus huffed.

The two dodged and fought their way to the cockpit; Janus used his laser to seal the door behind them. For a moment they simply stood there, catching their breath.

(Well, Janus caught his. Did Patton even breathe, in that form?)

“Unauthorized personnel may not enter the cockpit.” Remus’s high-pitched voice came over the speaker system. “Unless it’s an actual pit full of cocks, in which case, where’s my invitation?”

Janus was going to need something a lot stronger than tea, once they finally got out of this mess.

“Remus, for god’s sake,” he grumbled.

“God has nothing to do with my cock, but if that’s how you want to roll…” One of the cockpit screens flickered to life, and there was Remus in all his ruffly, sparkly, mustached glory. Clara’s warm, messy cove spread out behind him, reds and yellows clashing horribly with the green of his sash.

Janus moved so that his chest and shoulders blocked the screen, to prevent Remus from catching sight of Patton. If Remus saw Patton as a Cyberman, Janus would never be able to convince him to keep his mouth shut.

“All right then, where do we find you?” Janus said. “And where did the others land? Not to mention our dear missing ball of anxiety.” He leaned forward, putting on his trademark smirk. “Come on, Re. You must know. One Other to another, you can tell me.”

“Aww, Jan Jan,” Remus crooned, also leaning forward. “You care.”

“I most certainly do not!” Janus sputtered, and cleared his throat. “Patton was worried about Virgil, that’s all.”

“I was?” Patton asked from the other side of the space. “I mean, of course I am, but—”

“But surely you can at least tell us why this scenario isn’t playing out quite like the episode it comes from,” Janus interjected smoothly. He didn’t want Remus to notice the metallic quality of Patton’s voice.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’ve already told you everything that I know.” Remus shrugged. “Roman really did give the Imagination too much freedom.”

Janus frowned.

“Then how do you know the scenario will end when we find you?”

“I actually don’t! Isn’t it great?” Remus crowed, clapping his hands. “I love stories where anything could happen. We could all get vaporized, or have our flesh eaten by—”

“Remus, focus.” Janus pitched the bridge of his nose. “So, given what we know of this particular episode, you’re assuming that our main tasks are to come get you, and to drop the forcefield on the planet so the Daleks can blow it up.”

“That’s the idea, Double Dee!”

Behind him, Janus heard Patton make a weird, choked noise, and grimaced.

“By the way, Roman and Logan are already inside the asylum.” Remus grinned, the whites of his eyes flashing. “So if you want to catch up, you’d better scute those scaly asscheeks along. Check the floor for a breach; that will be your way out. A breach, ha! Like a butth—”

Janus pointed his laser and fired on the screen, cutting the transmission and sending sparks flying all over the cockpit. An awkward silence fell in which he turned to face Patton, who of course wore no visible expression.

This, and all the reasons for it, annoyed him further.

“I swear if you ask one question about scutes or scales,” he warned, holding up a finger.

“I wasn’t…going to.” Patton held up his hands. “Logan kind of taught us how to tune out the more, er, naughty things Remus says. But I am wondering,” he added hesitantly. “Are you…feeling okay?”

“Fabulous. Peachy,” Janus said flatly, kneeling to feel around on the floor. “Fantastic, allons-y, geronimo, what have you.”

“It’s just, you seem a little angry,” Patton went on. “And you remember, that’s, that’s the first step in being converted. Maybe you should wear the bracelet for a while? We can trade on and off…”

Patton’s fingers went to his wrist, but Janus stopped him with a gloved hand on top.

Tell him, an inner voice whispered. Tell him now, before this gets any more awkward.

“That’s sweet of you, but no, I’m merely frustrated,” Janus admitted. “I would very much like to get out of here, so I can return to the pleasant evening I was having before all thisss.”

He gestured irritatedly around them.

Patton joined him on the floor and together they found a person-sized hole, with a rope ladder hanging down.

“Hey, Janus,” Patton murmured, as they were about to start the long climb down. “Can I ask you something?”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re going to ask no matter what I say?” Janus said wryly.

“Do you remember when that puppet attacked you in the main part of the ship, and I fought it off with the fire extinguisher?” Patton ducked his head.

Janus raised an eyebrow.

“They hesitated, when they saw me.” Patton’s unnaturally black eyes met Janus’s. “That’s why I had time to grab the extinguisher.”

Janus swallowed, his heart starting to pound.

“Well, I’m sure they aren’t used to anyone fighting back—”

“No, they hesitated like…like I scared them or something,” Patton pressed. “It was weird, Janus. Please. If there’s something you need to tell me…you know you can.”

Janus’s mouth compressed into a flat line and he looked away, bitterness welling up inside him.

“Can I, Patton?” he asked softly, holding up a gloved hand. A yellow indictment of everything he was. “Can I really?”

Patton sighed, long and deep.

“Touché.”

Chapter 8- Extremis

“Something’s coming. And I’m blind. How can I see them when I’m lost in the dark?”

Logan awoke to someone shaking him.

He opened his eyes to an expanse of blurry blobs and color splotches, and Roman’s sharp, frantic face very close to his. His eyes have amber flecks, his brain noted inanely. But why is he clear when nothing else is…?

Roman threw his head back and exhaled in obvious relief when Logan groaned, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.

“Singing chimeras, Specs, I was starting to worry.”

Logan sat up and touched his bare face. Ah, there’s the problem.

“Where are my glasses?”

Roman was quiet.

Logan leaned closer to the other Side, squinting. Bad eyesight was such an annoyance. If only Thomas’s developing brain hadn’t decided early on that “smart and logical” also meant “stereotypically nerdy”, and pigeonholed his own sense of Logic into actually requiring corrective eyewear.

“Roman?” Logan tried again.

“Um. About that.”

Roman bit his lip, and handed over a smashed set of frames. Logan’s stomach sank as he examined them; the lenses were shattered beyond repair.

“I found them next to you like that, when I woke up,” Roman explained. “I’ve been trying to summon another pair, but for some reason the Imagination won’t let me!”

Logan pushed down a growing sense of dread, that he’d have to navigate the rest of this adventure half-blind.

“My glasses getting broken is obviously not your fault. We did fall down a rather deep hole,” he pointed out. “But what do you mean, the Imagination isn’t letting you?”

“I mean it’s not letting me!” Roman threw up his hands. “I could summon things on the TARDIS just fine, but now…” He sighed. “I am Creativity, right?”

Logan tilted his head and frowned.

“Is that…Roman, that is a nonsensical question. Of course you are.”

“So summoning a tiny object in my own dream scenario should be easy.” Roman hung his head.

“How long have you been trying?”

“Twenty minutes, maybe?” Roman shrugged, still not looking at him. “All that time, and yet still I fail.”

Logan resisted the urge to point out that twenty minutes should be long enough to realize a thing might be outside of one’s control, and to start brainstorming other options.

Stubborn fool.

“Maybe it’s just as well we picked the wedding over the callback,” Roman added darkly, an uncharacteristic glower twisting his face. “When Thomas’s Creativity apparently can’t even control his own dreams.”

Oh…this isn’t about glasses at all, is it? Logan swallowed around an achy sensation in his chest; the one he always got when something was wrong and Roman made that face and he just…needed to fix it.

Native English speakers have a passive vocabulary of around forty thousand words, he thought, frustrated. So why, in situations like this, am I constantly struggling to find the right thing to say?

The resigned set to Roman’s jaw prompted Logan to try.

“Your inability to summon things may not be your doing,” Logan said, laying a hand on Roman’s knee. “Perhaps the Imagination is attempting to impose a sense of realism on this adventure.”

“Realism,” Roman echoed flatly. “In Doctor Who.”

Logan huffed. “You must admit, summoning objects out of thin air does defy even time-traveling alien logic.”

Roman’s face twitched in the tiniest of smiles. “So why did it work before, Teach?”

“Maybe it only worked on the TARDIS because the ship already defies every known rule of physics.” Logan shrugged. “I admit I cannot possibly intuit the inner workings of the Imagination; I can only theorize from what I have observed thus far.”

Roman chuckled softly to himself, and bumped Logan’s shoulder.

“Aww, Nerd, I’m touched. You’re trying to logic me into feeling better.”

“Is it…working?” Logan asked.

“Kind of?” An unreadable expression flitted over Roman’s face. “At least one of us is still grounded in reality.”

“Where else could one possibly be grounded?”

Roman laughed outright at this.

“Oh, Logan. Never change, okay?”

He stood up, and pulled Logan to his feet as well.

“Where are we?” Logan asked, squinting.

He could tell they were in some large, open space; all blacks and browns and dull grays. Blurry domes of copper were scattered amongst what could be bits of fallen scaffolding or machinery.

Logan was also hyperaware of Roman’s warm arm pressed against his, and his own hand clasped tightly within the Prince’s larger grip. With everything else blurry, physical sensations were all the more distracting.

“Don’t panic, okay?” Roman started.

Logan scoffed.

“You are fortunate that I am not Virgil,” he commented wryly. “Because starting a sentence like that would almost certainly have caused him to panic.”

“Well, it’s just, do you remember that scene in the Dalek asylum episode where Rory wakes up in the hanger full of dead Daleks who turn out to be not actually dead?” Roman said in a rush. “Because…yeah.”

Oh. Logan swallowed.

“So, I am guessing that those copper domes are actually Daleks?” he said softly.

Roman snorted.

“Copper domes? Jeesh, your eyesight sucks.”

“I am aware,” Logan said flatly. “Which means you will have to guide us out. If I remember correctly, as long as we are quiet and don’t kick any pipes on the ground, we won’t wake them up.”

Roman let go of Logan’s hand… and replaced it with an arm wrapped around his waist. Logan only held back a squeak because it would have been extremely undignified.

“Hey, relax, I got you, Specs.” Roman’s breath ghosted over Logan’s ear. The Prince’s shorter stature allowed him to fit snugly against Logan’s side; if Roman turned his head, he could comfortably tuck his face into the crook of Logan’s neck.

Not…not that Logan imagined him doing any such thing.

Roman drew his sword with a metallic rasp, prompting Logan to pull out his screwdriver, and they set off across the floor.

It was a strange, vulnerable sensation, Logan thought, being this close to another, being forced to rely on him for direction…or maybe it was just that Roman’s Rose Tyler outfit left so much more skin on display than his usual royal attire…

To be fair, Roman’s bare arms and short skirt and leggings were the only non-blurry things in Logan’s line of sight at the moment.

“You know, I am not sure how much good a sword will do against a Dalek now,” Logan said dryly (to distract himself). “Since it would seem that the Imagination is now attempting to be realistic.”

“It’ll be a lot more useful than a screwdriver,” Roman retorted. “Honestly, the War Doctor had a point. The later seasons really do start to treat the sonic like a weapon, and it looks ridiculous. There’s an oily-looking puddle to your left.”

They dodged around it.

“The sonic screwdriver is an ingenious, multipurpose tool,” Logan argued. “Fitting for a character who is, at heart, a pacifist. In the right hands, it most certainly could serve as a weapon. For example one could scramble a Cyberman’s circuits, short out fuses, or calculate the precise amount of blunt force needed to take down an enemy.” Logan waved the hand with the screwdriver around them. “All things that a sword could not accomplish.”

“Sure,” Roman drawled, leading them around one of the still, silent Daleks, “but you don’t point a sonic at an oncoming Dalek and expect to survive. Even the Doctor had more sense than to try that. At least a sword could cut off its blaster arm.”

“We don’t know how strong Dalek amor is down here,” Logan pointed out. “You could end up breaking your sword and then where would we be?”

“Better off than we’d be while you assembled a cabinet at them!”

Logan’s foot collided with a metallic something that made an awful CLANG and went skittering across the floor. Roman pulled them up short, his face going pale.

All around them, round blue lights began to flicker on, one by one.

“I kicked the pipe, didn’t I?” Logan said, his heart starting to pound.

“You kicked the pipe,” Roman confirmed in a sick voice.

“EGGS…!” a crackly Dalek voice next to them stuttered, making them jump. “EG-EG-EG-EGGS…!” Its twin lights flashed erratically as it spoke.

“Roman,” Logan started.

“‘Eggs, you may laugh and that’s great…’” Roman sang in a wavering voice. “‘Your smiles are what make my day’…”

The Dalek rolled toward them creakily. “EEEEEGGS!”

Logan’s breathing sped up. Another Dalek rolled in from the other side, causing him to stumble. All around them, mechanical creaks and groans and a chorus of digitized voices rose up…

“EG…EG-EGGS…TERM…”

“Roman, I believe we need to run.” Logan could see the Dalek almost clearly now, its eyestalk glowing, its gunstick rising up.

“…IN…ATE…”

Blurry, flashing lights closed in.

“‘My self-worth’s fragile like an egg,’” Roman sang. The hand gripping Logan’s middle tightened painfully. “‘When it breaks it’s tough to put together again…’”

“EX…TERM…IN…ATE!”

“Roman!” Logan shouted. “Get us out of here!”

“EXTERMINATE!”

A blaster bolt warbled past and exploded over their heads.

Roman shuddered and seemed to snap out of it, seizing Logan’s arm and pulling him so hard he nearly fell. Logan staggered, hanging onto Roman’s hand for dear life as they ran, and ran, and blaster bolts burst at their feet and shattered around them.

“This way, boys and boys,” Remus’s voice sing-singed across the room. Roman yanked them hard in that direction.

“REMUS!” Roman shouted as they ran, and Logan was impressed he had the breath for it. “Remus, you better open that door like you’re supposed to or we are DEAD!”

“Oh, keep your pants on, brother,” Remus snarked, sounding a little closer. “Although maybe Logan would prefer that you didn’t—”

Whatever else he said wasn’t audible over a hanger full of jabbering Daleks and firing blasters.

They reached a wall and Roman shoved Logan down.

“Straight ahead, crawl. Go, go, go!” he said, turning and brandishing his sword.

Bless that Prince and his stupid, stupid bravery.

Logan went, nearly tripping over his coat as he crawled under the barely lifted hatch door. Once he was past the threshold Roman flung himself under and through, knocking into Logan and sending them both sliding across the floor.

There was a hiss and a heavy thud that Logan hoped was the door shutting behind them, and finally, blessed silence. They both leaned against the wall for a moment, catching their breath.

Roman thunked his head back.

“Jesus Christ Superstar,” he muttered.

“Your welcome.”

Remus’s voice crackled through the hallway. Roman growled and sat up straighter, looking around as if his brother would magically appear.

“I did just save your lives,” Remus added. From the direction of the sound, Logan guessed he was talking through a speaker somewhere on the far wall.

“Yeah, and I’m still gonna whip your butt when this is all over,” Roman groused.

“Oooh, do I get to choose the instrument?”

Roman sputtered, but Logan grabbed his arm before he could yell back.

“You know he just likes to get under your skin,” he murmured, and raised his voice. “Thank you for opening the door, Remus. We are grateful for your help.”

There was a silence on the other end, with a quality that Logan would have described as shocked.

“Well. You two lovebirds better move along,” Remus drawled finally, shrill as ever. “Before the Silurian army shows up.”

“Excuse me, the WHAT?” Logan exclaimed.

No answer.

“Remus!” Roman clambered to his feet and helped Logan up.

Nothing.

Except now that Logan was listening for it, he definitely heard approaching footsteps and murmuring, heavily-accented voices. And they were getting closer.

“That dick,” Roman grumbled through gritted teeth.

“To be fair, I think he is trying to help,” Logan pointed out. “In his own way.”

“Don’t be fair to my brother when he’s just led us out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

“We are neither in a pan nor on fire, Roman; I have never understood that saying—”

The lights dimmed and flashed an eerie purple; Roman silenced him with a hand over his mouth. There was a voice…not Remus’s, not alien, not like anything Logan had ever heard. It chanted something, over and over again, before fading out.

The lights flared back to normal.

Logan waited, counting Roman’s shallow breaths against his neck.

Nothing.

“What was that?” he asked softly.

“Beats the hell out of me,” Roman responded. “But I guess that’s our cue to go. Stay close, Mr. Magoo.”

Logan grumbled, but allowed Roman to recapture his hand and lead them in the opposite direction of the approaching footsteps…which had resumed the moment the purple light vanished.

Next time Roman asked him to come on an adventure, he was bringing a spare set of glasses.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic #ts fanfiction #doctor who #thomas sanders #canon compliant #action #adventure #romance #roman sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #ts sides #ts roman #ts logan #ts deceit #ts patton #ts remus #ts virgil #logince #moceit #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #bickering #enemies to friends #rivals to lovers

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 598

Gifs NOT mine. (Found on Pinterest.)

If either gif is yours please let me know, so I can give you credit.

Gif credit goes to - Unknown.

Year posted - 2020

Words - 1,180

*Note this is set in a au where you feel every pain your soulmate feels, up until you meet. In this instance the reader suffers from every blow Superman takes, even when it doesn't hurt him. But because Superman is well Superman he doesn't feel her pain, therefore he assumes he has no soulmate.

----

---(Y/n)'s pov---

With a growl I pulled out my pistols and shot at the Bat. "You've just got to ruin EVERYTHING!" I yelled firing off my last rounds. "Looks like you're out." Batman said before punching me in the face, splitting open my lip. "Oh this will be fun." I snickered dodging his fists. "Not for long." The Bat scowled a he kicked me in the chest, knocking me on my ass. "Where's your brother now?" Batman sassed as he cuffed my hands behind my back. "Exactly where he needs to be." I smirked as an explosion went off in downtown Gotham. "You planed this." Batman pointed out as he looked towards the cloud of smoke. "You caught me, I lied. You didn't ruin anything at all Batsy, you did exactly what you were supposed to do." I laughed like a mad woman, throwing my head back for effect. "Now you've got a choice to make Batman. Take me in to Arkham, or save the civilians from my brother. Tick tock Batsy tick tock." I giggled as I slowly scooted my way back to the ledge of the roof. "How do I know there are civilians down there?" He growled glancing back at me. "Do you really think my brother would go through all that effort without civilians?" I arched a taunting brow, smirking when he turned away from me. "I'll take my chances." He concluded as he stalked towards me, making me growl in annoyance. "Then you're a fool Batsy." I spat in his face as he pulled me up from the ground, throwing me over his shoulder without thought.

---Four days later---

---Third person pov---

Commissioner Gordon sighed to himself as he waited patiently under the Bat signal. "Gordon." Batman muttered as he reached the rooftop, maintaining eye contact when Gordon faced him. "You need to go to Arkham." The Commissioner spoke without hesitation, knowing better than to skirt around the problem. "What's happened?" Batman questioned as he approached his longtime friend. "(Y/n)." Was all Gordon said before walking to the roof access door. "She broke out?" Batman questioned further. "No... Something... Something is wrong with her." Gordon hesitated this time. "That much is obvious." Batman held back a sigh. "You need to see her, trust me... You're going to want to see her." Gordon urged nodding to himself, when he heard the tell tail sound of Batman's cape as he fled the roof.

---At Arkham---

After slipping passed Arkhams security Batman made his way to the medical wing. Having hacked into Arkhams mainframe, and finding out where she was being held. As quickly and quietly as he could he knocked the vent grate off, slipping into the medical wing. Finding (Y/n) rather quickly, since she was the only patient in the medical wing. "What the hell?" Batman muttered to himself at the sight of the exclusively massive bruises scattered across her pale skin. "Alfred." Batman muttered into his tech, his trusty Butler answering rather quickly. "Yes master Bruce?" His voice was as prim and proper as always. "Find out if (Y/n) was in a fight recently, or if she was anywhere near Bane, or Killer Crock." Batman instructed as he took photos of her bruises. "(Y/n) as in Jokers sister?" Alfred asked as the photos were being loaded onto the Batcaves research systems. "Yes." Batman muttered as he scanned her body for any broken bones. "Oh my." Alfred gasped to himself quietly as the photos loaded onto the screens. "Master Bruce, it says (Y/n) was in isolation. And her nurse found her near death in a far corner of her cell last night." Alfred was bewildered with the report, at a loss of what could have happened to her. "Alfred get the medical bay prepped, I'm bringing (Y/n) in." Batman concluded, as he injected her with an antistatic. "Master Bruce?" Alfred frowned to himself. "The only way this could have happened to her, would be if her soulmate was hurt. And there is only one person that could survive such extreme damage. Get Clark to the house, we need to talk." Batman instructed as he began searching for an exit route, he could safely get (Y/n) out of Arkham.

---Some time later---

"Bruce what's going on? Alfred said you had something important you needed to talk about." Clark frowned a little as Bruce waved for Clark to follow him to the Batcave. "Were you in a fight yesterday?" Bruce asked as the elevator doors closed. "Yes I was." Clark nodded his head. "That's what I was afraid of." Bruce sighed as the doors opened. "Why?" Clark urged as he followed Bruce, becoming distracted by the woman within the medical bay. "Who's this?" Clark's frown deepened as he circled the unconscious woman, taking her injuries into account. His heart hammering in his chest simply being in her presence. “This is (Y/n), the Jokers sister. And I think you know why I brought you here.” Bruce sighed under his breath. “She’s... she’s my soulmate isn’t she?” Clark hesitated already knowing the answer. “She’s suffered wounds like these time and time again. Nearly dying from wounds that were simply minor to you.” Bruce sighed again pulling up her medical history to show Clark. “She’s been driven mad by the pain, she and the Joker don't even share blood relation." Bruce spoke softly, watching as Clark reached out to touch her leg. As soon as their skin touched (Y/n)'s eyes snapped open, and her breathing became heavy, her eyes glossing over. "Where am I?" She whimpered as she took in her surroundings. "Calm down it's alright." Bruce tried calming her. "Please I'm in so much pain, please take the pain away." She cried making Clint's heart shatter. "(Y/n) I'm hear now it's alright." Clark whispered taking her face between his hands, looking deeply into her eyes. "You." She sighed as her wounds slowly began to fade away. "I am so so sorry, I didn't think I had a soulmate. You have been suffering for so long, and it's all my fault." Clint whispered as a stray tear rolled down his cheek. "But I'm here now, and I will protect you at all costs." He added smiling through his tears.

"She's still a criminal." Bruce argued as he and Clark stood just outside of the medical bay. "She's my soulmate, I have to be with her." Clark growled. "She's killed people, robbed banks, reeked havoc all across Gotham with her brother. She's a danger to others." Bruce nearly hollered, trying his damnedest to keep quiet. "You're not going to stop me from taking her." Clark's voice was dark and serious, making Bruce swallow his next argument. "If anyone finds out about her, you'll be ruined." Bruce warned before leaving Clark in a huff of anger. "No one ever needs to know about her, she is mine and mine alone." Clark muttered under his breath, before turning back into the medical bay, eager to help and protect her.

#imagine #gif imagine #dc imagine #dc #superman #superman x reader #superman x y/n #superman imagine #soulmate au #clark kent x y/n #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent imagine #clark kent #batman imagine #batman #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne #joker imagine #joker #extended

[formashimataichi]

What happens outside the manga does not matter in the sense that it can never resonate emotionally the way things do when you experience them along with the characters as you read the story.

Imagine instead of going through losses and failures and getting better with a certain character all of that was alluded to but never shown and now you're just reading the story of them winning the title match and being on top. Which would you think carry more emotional resonance, going through those experiences with the character or simply being told about it? Obviously the former.

Same goes for Taichi. If all you're witnessing reading the story is his failure and shortcomings but told at the end of the manga that he goes on to be a master (or even worse, you just have to imagine it yourself) would that cary any emotional weight and be satisfying to the readers who relate to him? Probably not.

Again though, I'm not saying it would be best for Taichi's arc for him to win against chihaya and arata in the story, I'm just trying to explain why saying things like "his story just begun" doesn't mean anything to those who have that complaint in the first place.

As for the current queen yeah she'll lose but she was on top since the beginning so it's perfectly reasonable. As for Arata I don't think he'll lose, but if he does it'd be kinda disappointing but not the same in their eyes because he'd still end up with Chihaya.

I mean (and I apologize sincerely for being blunt here), of course it’s not going to mean anything to people who have that complaint, because their complaint is still centered on the idea that a satisfying character arc for him has to be equitable to success at the final level. The story has never been about any of these characters achieving final success, even though some of them do inevitably reach it. It’s about developing healthy, community-based love for sport, and how that in turn helps you grow and mature as a person. I completely agree that there would be no point to a flash forward that shows Taichi having become Meijin, but that’s not what the conclusion to his arc even requires to begin with. Like anyone else, he just needs to decide if he wants to keep playing and whether his reasons for wanting to continue playing are true to himself. I find it kind of concerning that people look at his story and all they potentially see is “failure and shortcomings”, because doesn’t that just ascribe to what his mother has been telling him from the beginning? The only thing she ever saw in what her son pursued for a long time is whether he won or he lost, and if he lost, she pulled the plug and emphasized that his efforts weren’t worth anything because of the immediate results. That’s a mindset that in the latter half of the manga she’s actively worked to acknowledge and change, so it surprises me that readers overlook that and don’t similarly follow suit. If losses really were the only thing to define a person’s efforts, she could have easily begged Taichi to give up after he lost at the Qualifiers, especially as it was at that point the biggest loss he’d ever experienced. But she doesn’t tell him to quit at all; that moment at the end that he shares with Arata is as emotional for her as it is for anyone else in the room, and we realize from her conversation with Suou that she’s gained a better understanding of just how much worth there is in her son’s efforts and persistence to continue against all odds (even if he chooses to quit himself at the time, though as you already know I feel pretty strongly that that’s only temporary). I don’t think people realize how much they’re falling into his mom’s old mindset when they say that Taichi’s story is only about failure; his entire arc is about breaking away from the idea that temporary failure implies a necessity to quit and the insecurities that she instilled in him by way of that thinking. If he decides to continue playing especially after such a huge loss, it’s incredibly significant for him in terms of finally leaving those insecurities behind for good. 

As for Arata, I guess that’s a point of difference between us with regards to how the match will ultimately pan out, but I don’t see why him potentially being the one to end up with Chihaya somehow diminishes the worth of Taichi’s arc. Neither of their arcs requires a satisfactory conclusion by way of getting the girl. That’s secondary to their individual journeys as people, and even if you have a love for someone that’s not reciprocated in the same way, it doesn’t render those feelings worthless or a waste of time. We see Taichi indirectly address that in his conversation with Chitose, when he questions if Chihaya’s feelings and support for her sister are a waste. Obviously, the relationship here is different, but the implied point is that even if Chitose is sometimes loath to recognize Chihaya’s support for her, it doesn’t mean anything less of the love that Chihaya has. It’s true that there’s a lot of love and labor that Taichi poured into his relationship with Chihaya, and sometimes he had to suffer immensely for it, but her not reciprocating doesn’t mean that any of his efforts or feelings weren’t worth anything. They’re something she still incredibly values and keeps as a close reminder of how she hurt him even if unintentionally. His longtime support still means the world to her, and I think it’s incredibly significant that the first game she wins against Shinobu is not only with his card, but also after encouragement Arata has given her because he thought of Taichi’s words and presence first. I don’t think any of that is meaningless and I don’t think their importance to each other would be diminished just because they ended up being friends. Friendships are deep and filled with intense feelings and support, too, and we’ve been shown on more than one occasion just how strong and everlasting the impact of their friendship is even when they’re apart from one another. None of that is going to suddenly disappear just because he might not get the girl in the end. 

#mashima taichi #chihayafuru #*meta #i would tag tchy bc i am talking about their relationship in depth here #but the way i'm talking about it would probably anger people. so #also i just don't think readers are going to gain anything by constantly comparing arata and taichi's arcs tbh #there's lots of parallels between them that i constantly love to point out #but ultimately they're still different characters who require different emotional resolutions #and i don't see the worth in claiming one person's success undeniably implies the other person's loss #and i think readers are only going to doom themselves to disappoint if that's all they focus on #each character is their own person with their own problems and dilemmas #and looking at them outside of strictly the rivalries they're engaged in helps to understand that they still have different needs #not all of their personal fulfillment relies on the one big game they play against each other #there's still outside factors to their character development that are important

[solarbird]

Okay longtime follower but I just gotta say I'm so impressed by that Project Kohaku A-B-C post you made with the different pickups and whatnot I just had to drop in and say wow. That is so amazing. As a fellow musician and (aspiring one day maybe) luthier and/or audiotech or something like that, I really wish I had your knowledge, know-how, and experience.

oh thank you ♥♥ !

the best thing to do is just go ahead and start trying shit. that’s what i’ve always done. i mean, like, learn to solder intentionally? there are a lot of great youtube videos for that. (use silver solder tho’, not 60/40 (lead) solder, because lead really, really doesn’t like your brain.) but take stuff apart and poke at it. you’ll break things. probably a bunch of things. and there are all kinds of plans and stuff online for kits that you can get wrong the first time too. _that’s okay_.

somewhere i have this post about the optical theremin i was trying to build? and i got it working but it was really quiet so i realised all the parts were rated for 35 volts and i was running it at 9 volts so i decided “let’s see what happens if I put in another battery and make it 18 volts” and that’s how i learned the answer was fire. fire is what happens.

it was hilarious. :D

basically, just... don’t be afraid to break shit. because you will. it’ll happen. it’s fine. radioshack is having another bankruptcy sale and components are already 60% off and they’ll end up 90% at the end but the selection will be terrible by then and okay maybe 60% off is better. maybe get one of their 150-in-one or 90-in-one educational kits and do that first. that doesn’t even require solder but you learn what electric parts do what things. i still have one of those, i bought it like... 10 years ago? it was great. :D

#languages-georg