#i need to create a masterpost with all the chapters at some point but im lazy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

edupunkn00b · 2 years

Text

Revisions, Ch. 3: Crossover

Prev - Crossover - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Tags: Human AU, Pining, Mutual Pining, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Slow Burn, Hanakahi Disease, Timeskip, Crossover, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change - WC: 2080

Logan's bedroom fell oddly quiet when his latest coughing fit ended. Logan sat at his desk trying to catch his breath, elbows resting on the surface, head clutched in his hands. After a few minutes, he shook his head, trying to make sense of this all.

Hanahaki isn’t real. It started in some an old manga. No, I’m just imagining these petals because of my story. I am simply becoming over-involved.

Logan straightened in his chair and returned his attention to his laptop. Just finish this chapter, Sanders, then go to bed.

Recessed lights flashed red at each bulkhead and the ship’s klaxon blared as Data ran down the corridor ,then slammed his palm against the shuttle bay’s door panel. Barely waiting for the doors to slide open, he rushed through, only stopping when— “Doctor?” Data asked, his affectation algorithms working overtime to properly express the maelstrom of emotions his malfunctioning chip was producing. “I do not understand. How can you be here?”

The Doctor looked confused. “Well, I jus’ brought my ship in—” she pointed to one corner of the mostly empty bay and, clear as anything and yet somehow still blending in amongst the shuttles, was the Doctor’s distinctive deep blue TARDIS. Data stared at it, mouth agape. This should not be possible. He created an internal reminder to run a full visual and processing self-diagnostic when this was all over. “I believe I am observing a paradox.” He scanned both the Doctor and her TARDIS with his tricorder. “All available evidence supports my visual and auditory experience of your presence. But it is not possible for you to be here. You are…” “Fictional, Captain?” River Song leaned one hip against the side of a gleaming storage container. “Aren’t we all?” Jack Harkness called out from behind Data. “Hey, speak for yourself.” He winked when Data turned around, eyes wide. “I’m a legend.” “Now, now, now, don’t go overwhelming the nice Captain like that.” The Doctor stepped closer to Data, having her own turn at scanning him with her sonic screwdriver. She peered closely at the results and mumbled distractedly. “He doesn’t need two of you makin’ eyes a’ ‘im.” “And why not?” River purred, sauntering up to Captain Data, a smirk tugging at her painted lips. “He’s got two hands, after all.” The Doctor looked up from the sonic. “Oi! I’m standin’ righ’ here, River!” “The Captain has two hands… and so do I, my love.” Pocketing her sonic, the Doctor took one of Data’s said hands and leaned in close. “Remind me to have a little talk with you later about somethin’, right?” “Of course, Doctor.” Data looked at the trio in front of him. “However, I do have an urgent inquiry.” Three pairs of eyes locked on to him. "What are you doing on my ship?”

Logan adjusted his glasses and re-read the chapter, momentarily satisfied. He saved his work and synced the backup file, then closed the lid to his laptop. He stood and was about to slide his chair back into place under his desk when he was overcome by another coughing fit. For a few moments, he felt as though his lungs just wouldn't inflate and he doubled over, wheezing.

When his coughing finally subsided, Logan sank down onto the foot of his bed. He looked at the tissue in his hand, squinting at the green and yellow scattered on the cloth. They’re not really petals. They’re not really petals. I’m simply—

He jerked at the soft knock on his door. “Lo? Are you alright?” Janus’ normally smooth voice was strained as it filtered through the door. “I could hear you coughing from my room.”

Crumpling the tissue and scanning his room for more, Logan got up to answer the door, taking a moment to straighten his tie and check his reflection in the glass picture frame next to the door frame. He fiddled with his hair for a moment before frowning and looking away. Logan opened the door.

And there stood Janus, wrapped in an elegant silk robe over matching pajamas, both matching his eyes. His hair was damp and his skin gleamed, the soft scent of lavender wafting through the air toward Logan. Janus' hand was raised as though ready to knock again. He dropped his hand when the door opened and his eyes danced over Logan’s features, brow furrowed and lips tight. Logan looked down at himself and felt his cheeks warm with shame at the state he must be in. “Good evening, Janus. I am f—fine. I am sorry to have disturbed you.”

“Oh, Lo, no…” Janus slid one foot a few inches closer. “No, that’s not why I knocked. I was concerned about you.” He leaned to the side, tilting his head until he caught Logan’s eyes. Logan felt his blush return when he looked into his gold-ringed eyes. “Can I get you anything, Lo? Perhaps some hot tea? That cough sounds—”

“That is not necessary, Janus, but… thank you. I do wish to further interrupt your evening with Remus. I should return t—to preparing for, ah…” Logan stuttered, eyes widening as he caught sight of a stained tissue he’d somehow missed.

“Preparing for bed?” Janus asked, something unreadable in his eyes. Logan stared down at his feet, a flash of a memory of his hands trailing through Janus' hair heating the back of his neck.

“I’ll let you rest, Lo. But, please…” The skin on Logan’s arm blazed where Janus stroked it. He waited until Logan met his eyes. “Please promise me you’ll see a doctor if you’re still coughing like this tomorrow.”

Logan nodded, fighting another cough and turning up the corners of his mouth in what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “If my cough sounds like this in the morning, I promise I will see my doctor.”

Janus smiled back. “Okay, Lo. See you in the morning?” He imagined a softness in Janus' expression that made his stomach turn somersaults.

Nodding rapidly, Logan squeaked out a “Good night, Janus.”

“‘Night, Lo.” Logan quickly closed the door as Janus turned to leave, then dashed to the bathroom and turned on the shower to cover the sound of his coughing.

~~~~~

As Logan climbed into a bed, a fresh round of coughing ripped through his chest. He fumbled for the tissues on his nightstand, frantically trying to catch his breath and to calm his coughing before—

The knock at his door this time was a little sharper, a little louder. Logan coughed into his tissue, crumpling it in his palm to hide the splashes of green and yellow. Those are not petals. He breathed shallowly to avoid triggering another bout. “I apologize, Janus.” He said as he turned the doorknob, cracking the door open. “Please, go back to bed. Everything is—”

“Logan Sanders!” the Doctor called out gleefully, arms outstretched. Logan poked his head into the hallway, eyes wide, searching for any evidence his housemates were woken by her loud voice. “Just the man I’ve been lookin' for!” She nudged the door open all the way and stepped inside. “May I come in?” she asked after she’d already turned to close and lock the door behind her.

Stunned into silence, Logan stared at the Doctor as she took off her long periwinkle overcoat and hung it over Logan’s robe on the back of the door. “Ya are Logan Sanders, right? Funny, I’d heard you were almost as talkative as I am!”

“Wha—what?” I’m hallucinating. That’s it. Or I fell asleep and I’m lucid dreaming and—

The Doctor stepped close to Logan and peered into his eyes. “Open up,” she ordered, demonstrating by opening her own mouth wide. Eye narrowed, she examined his throat, felt his glands, then stepped back and scanned him with her sonic screwdriver.

She frowned when she read the results. “Logan, have a seat.” She looked up and met his eyes. “We need to have a little talk.”

Logan stumbled wordlessly to his desk chair and set it next to his bed, the only other place to sit. The Doctor put both hands on his shoulders and gently guided him down to sit on the side of the bed, then grabbed the chair, turned it around and straddled it backwards.

Resting her forearms on the backrest, she looked around Logan’s room, eyes lingering on the photos pinned to his bulletin board, his large—and busy—wall calendar, and the nearly half-dozen boxes of tissues placed strategically around his room. She spotted the tissue still gripped in his hand, a tiny bit of red peeking through on the edge. Smiling sadly, she tenderly pried open his fingers, cradling both his palm and the petal-filled tissue in her hands.

“You don’t need to see the sonic to know what this means, yeah?” She said quietly.

Logan shook his head. “This can’t be real. You’re not real. Hanahaki isn’t real.”

The Doctor shrugged and snatched the tissue from his hand. “Very well.” She stood and took a few steps back toward the door. “If I’m not real then you won’t mind me knocking on yer mates’ doors and showing them this, then, yeah?”

He leapt to his feet, starting toward her when he was wracked with another coughing spell. His hands jerked toward the closest tissues but they were too far to reach. He fell to his knees, covering his face with his arms, trying to cough into his elbows to hide the petals and muffle the sound. The Doctor snatched up the box and knelt before him, handing him a tissue and rubbing his back. “It’s okay, Logan. It’s gonna be okay.”

When his coughing finally subsided, Logan managed to sputter, “You don’t know that.”

“Eh, Logan Sanders. Stubborn as I’d expected.” She shook her head and fished in her pockets, pulling out four glowing blue vials wrapped with a rubber band. She poked at the end of one, sliding it out of the little bundle. “Here, take this.” She unscrewed the stopper and pressed it into Logan’s hand. “All of it.”

Logan looked at the vial and back at her. “Go on,” she said. He sniffed it and made a face at the acrid odor but tipped it back anyway and swallowed the entire contents. “Thataboy!” she said, gripping his shoulder. “Here, you keep these.” She placed the three remaining vials into his palm and took back the empty one.

Already breathing easier, Logan gripped the remaining vials. “Doctor, you’ve cured Hanahaki's Disease?”

The Doctor shook her head with a little smirk. “Hanahaki’s already been cured, mate, and y’know what you have to do.” She stood and helped Logan to his feet, then settled him into bed. “This is just for the symptoms. When that dose wears off, your coughing will be even worse.”

Logan crushed his eyelids shut, holding the precious vials close to his chest. “How long?”

“How long until that dose wears off?” She brushed back his hair and checked his eyes. “Or how long does the sonic say you have?”

“Is there a difference?” Logan looked away. “I can do the math.”

“You can also tell them how you feel.”

“Them?” Logan’s eyes widened as he turned back to the Doctor. “What makes you think—”

“Two colors, mate.” She took the vials from his hand and placed them on his nightstand, then returned the tissues to their home next to his bedside lamp. Looking around the room, she spotted a water bottle on his desk and brought that over, too, making Logan drink some before she set it near the vials.

She pulled up his covers then sat gently on the edge of his bed. “Each vial should last you nearly a week, give or take a day or so.”

Desperation tinged his voice. “Can you give me more?”

Her eyes were soft as she cupped his cheek. “The medicine’ll only mask th’ symptoms, mate. Your disease will still progress until you tell them.” She held his hand. “There wouldn’t be a point t' any more vials.”

Three more vials, about a week per dose. Logan’s eyes flicked reflexively toward his calendar. He wouldn’t even live to see Janus’ birthday.

“Anyone worthy of this much love from you has gotta be pretty special.” The Doctor kissed his forehead, then stood. “Tell them how you feel.” She put on her coat and opened the door, peeking out before she slipped through. "They migh' just surprise you."

Tag list:@mavenmush @melaniidarling @braingoburr @lunatatic @demon9980 @crossiantgay @psychedelicships @justmeandmygayships @ts-creator-boost @bluerosesbleedred @tsfanficarchive @tsshipmonth2020

19 notes · View notes

hansolmates · 4 years

Text

jjk; angel’s trumpet [01]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 2.7k a/n; after spending an entirety of june on this fic im proud to release it! this story is based on the prompt “I’m losing my mind!” for @btsghostiewritersnet BGW Bingo Bash! I hope you all enjoy this mini series and stay tuned for this wild ride

[01] [02] -> masterpost

“Just give it up!” Jungkook snaps, and you flinch at the sudden raise in voice level. Jungkook is a soft spoken person, only really having the audacity to speak up at the strength of his friends or when his body burns with attention after a performance. The fact that he chooses to use this tone around you, gets you seeing white hot.

“How can I give up something that hasn’t even started?” you shoot back just as stubbornly. He won’t even let you in his room, and it pains you that he wants to fight out in the hallway where anyone could walk in and see. You glare at the heavy arms that bar your way inside, as if he’s creating a barrier for you, both emotionally and physically.

You hate this. For the past three months you’ve hated this version of yourself, manifested between the strained relationship of you and Jungkook. It pains you to see each other like this. Jungkook’s ears are tinged red with fever, simultaneously a little sick and a little annoyed at the fact that you wouldn’t let up.

It wasn’t always mismatched stares and bouts of mixed signals whenever you two entered a room. There was a time when it being in each other’s presence was like a breath of fresh air, a bakery full of nothing but sweets and mouth-watering confections. That’s not to say that your relationship with Jungkook was, or is easy. After all, Jungkook chose a life that is never meant to be easy, no matter how far deep.

But at the crux of everything, deep in your gut, you know that the both of you have that spark.

“We can’t be together.” Jungkook states simply, pressing his coral lips together in a thin line. “My career! The traveling, the media, my crazy schedule, all of this, it doesn’t match.”

It doesn’t match. Like the way a toddler puts a triangle block in a square space. In your opinion Jungkook is pointing out shallow, baseless reasons. You’ve gotten this far together, not quite addressing any officiality but leading to it. If all of his reasons really mattered, you wouldn’t be here right now. Unfortunately, Jungkook’s deciding to cut the line when the two of you have already sunk so deep.

You’re both hurting, Jungkook doesn’t want to admit that.

“But that doesn’t matter to me!” you reason, and you’re crumbling. Jungkook was once a fighter, too. Today, it feels like it’s just you who’s taking a stand, grappling on thin slices of thread that resemble what little confidence Jungkook has in the both of you. “I want to keep you grounded. I want to be the person you come home to.”

Jungkook’s face reaches the final boss: a frustrating shade of scarlet, stunned at how shameless you are. You didn’t care, you know what you and Jungkook feel for each other is real.

In a fit of emotion your hands reach for the crook of his elbow, grappling the black fabric between your fingers. It’s enough to ignite heat in your veins, starved of touch from so many nights apart and text messages that weren’t enough to convey how you truly felt.

Jungkook’s eyes drag from your grip to your face, eyes glimmering. You look so small in the large hallway, empty and echoing between both your heaving breaths. There’s acute control in his expression, as if he’s grappling to reach both an inner and outer peace with himself.

You bite your lip, sealing away your whimper of protest as he takes his hand in yours, untacking your grip. He’s not rough, but not gentle either as your hand pendulums to your lap.

He turns his back to you, and for the first time you’re glad he looks away because the tears have already fallen. “Maybe in another world, we’d work out. But not this one.” Jungkook whispers, slamming the door to his studio.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

“Baby, it’s okay! You’ll find a new person to love!” The neverending flow of liquor and poetics is provided by none other than Sehlyung, a fellow employee you befriended after you got hired as a language teacher.

You barely register Sehlyung’s hopeful smile through your misty eyes. Feeling bloated with liquid and far too tired to reply, you bob your head against the bar table.

Sehlyung is the epitome of a fun time, and the first person you thought of to help quell your aching heart. A relationship that first started off as snide jokes and offhanded work qualms that eventually turned into a deep understanding and care for each other. After a long day of work she pulled through for you, showing up at the bar like a warrior in emerald green pencil slacks and an untucked blouse. At the edge of the bar she absentmindedly winds a lock of pale curly hair, sipping languidly from her electric blue beverage.

“Listen, I get it. You think it’s the end of the world because Jungkook seems like the perfect catch—” the pretty blonde pauses when she notices your lip tremble, “but! He’s not that perfect, y’know. He—he sweats, sweats a lot, it’s like he’s freakin’ Niagara! It takes forever to get outfits on him in-between sets, it’s like clothing a wet noodle.”

You choke back a laugh, shaking your head. “That is one flaw.”

“A-and he’s very,” she starts waving her hands around, plucking the answer out of thin air, “competitive? Remember that one time Nabi said he couldn’t finish that whole loaf of milk bread? And then he accidentally ended up eating the parchment paper?”

That has you in a fit of giggles, recalling how scared he was when his urge to make Nabi regret her words bit him right back in the butt. The hospital’s personal phone became number 8 on his speed dial shortly after.

A fond, tentative smile melts on Sehlyung’s lips. At least you had it in in you to laugh, which Sehlyung knows is a good sign. She runs her fingers over your hair, forehead damp from your previous wallowing and overconsumption. ”You’re gonna find yourself a simple, wholesome partner! One who’s top-tier normie and will have all the time in the world for you!”

You grimace at the thought, despite how uplifting that sounds. You once thought that was the only life for you, a nuclear family with two point five kids (the half point being a puppy, of course.) While you wouldn’t mind that kind of life, after meeting Jungkook you decided long ago that all you ever needed in a relationship was his company and combined happiness.

“Time isn’t the issue,” you slur, voice warped from how your lips fall tiredly against your arm. “This issue is that he doesn’t want to try.”

Sehlyung doesn’t say anything to that, but instead prefers to pour you another glass of liquid despair. Of course, she knew how Jungkook got. Sweet and caring, but headstrong, letting nothing get in the way of his music.

Evidently, you’re one of those things.

“Boys are dumb,” she says simply, swinging her head back.

“I’ll be okay,” you murmur, “it just hurts. There’s no closure, y’know? I feel it, I feel so much love for him. And I know he feels, he feels something.”

Sehlyung bites her lip, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I got you a gift.”

That gets you to perk up, your head tipping a miniscule degree. She pulls out a glass, filled with a clear liquid. It’s small, almost vial-shaped, enough for barely two shots. Inside, there’s a young flower shaped like a bellsprout.

“It’s angel wine,” she chirps, pulling your shot glass to give you a hearty pour. “The old lady was selling it when I was getting my mom her ginger wine.”

“Hm, is it like ginseng?” you ask curiously, grabbing the now half-empty bottle where the wet flower sat. The bell shape, despite being bloated with residual wine, still clung vibrantly to the glass. The bumblebee yellow and sunset orange tint looking absolutely mesmerizing. However, you’ve never seen an infused liquor quite like this.

“Think so,” Sehlyung shrugs, “I’m sure you’ll like it though! I told her about how you got dumped and she said you’d need this to cap off your night!”

She snatches the bottle from your hands, making sure it’s sealed tight before slipping into your purse. “That wine’s special, baby,” she winks, “save it for yourself when you get home, alright?”

“Gee, Lyungie,” you deadpan, swirling the fragrant liquid, “I’m so glad my boy drama is spreading to your wine dealer.”

Your friend holds her own drink in a toast, urging you to drink up. You don’t need to be told twice, the floral liquid going down surprisingly smooth. It’s sweet, and your whole body tingles. It’s like the feeling of being outside, and the sun shines over your exposed skin like a warm kiss. For a brief moment, you feel like you’re seeing pink and orange, blissfully satiated.

“Mm,” you hum, licking your lips in hopes the feeling will return to you, “that’s some good stuff, got anymore?”

Sehlyung scoffs, only mildly jealous that you get that particular drink all to yourself. “I wish. An arm and a leg cost me that, my hometown is very far!”

The rest of the night is a haze, a comfortable one. Sehlyung goes off about Namjoon and his countless wardrobe malfunctions, keeping her from going home on time one way too many nights. You talk about how you’re getting into real progress with Soobin’s English, and how he doesn’t complain his head hurts when he speaks in full sentences. Hopefully he isn’t too mad when you send him a pop quiz next Tuesday.

Sehlyung’s cab drops you off first, and she bids you a hug and kiss goodbye. She tells you to come a little early before your first class, because she wants to redesign Seokjin’s blazer for a new shoot and she wants you to pick out the best crystals.

You know she just wants to show off and that your opinion is minimal because most of the decisions are made weeks before, but the gesture is appreciated. From Sehlyung’s knowing gaze, you have a feeling that she’s also doing this because she wants to keep you at arm’s length for as long as possible.

The cab zips away first, leaving you in front of your apartment complex. You’re teetering on your heels like an infant, and you’re surprised that you managed to fake-sober this far into the night.

Speaking of. It’s beautiful outside. With a tired sigh, you wrap yourself further into your burgundy knitted scarf, begging for warmth. You feel a fresh bout of tears surfacing as you look onto the pale yellow moon, shrouded by thick ghosty clouds among the starless sky. You wonder if Jungkook is looking at the same moon, thinking the same thing.

You shake your head and wipe your tears, absolving you of that romantic notion. Jungkook hasn’t had the time to look at the stars in so long. You imagine he’s probably either working or sleeping soundly in his bunk, completely oblivious of the semi-depressing night you’ve had. You don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that Jungkook doesn’t have the opportunity to dwell on feelings for too long.

The midnight sky starts to flicker, as if night and day are competing for dominance. Either that, or it’s really late in the night and early in the day. Your vision starts to blur, and you wonder if the secretary at the front desk would be so kind as to help you up to your apartment. It’s embarrassing, but it’s better than you cracking your skull open in the middle of the hallway where anyone can find you. You clutch your head, bemoaning on how much alcohol must be running through your blood if you’re hallucinating this much.

Wiping your bleary face, you dig into your purse for your keys. Upon pulling out the key your favorite lip balm rolls onto the street. A little part of you feels like leaving it behind so you can get to bed, but it’s your favorite one and you are so close to finishing it. Muttering a curse at the thought of bending down at the possibility of you vomiting in public, you quickly scramble to the ground. Your knees buck at the pavement, tiny stones digging into your skin. Focusing your gaze on the pink and blue plastic, you reach for the glittery tube.

Unfortunately, you’re not quick enough to notice the moving truck swerve the corner and skid towards your body.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

The first thing you notice is that it’s unbearably bright. Like when you vegetate in a dark classroom watching a movie, and the teacher suddenly flips the lights on without warning and your brain panics from the shock.

You’re also painfully sober, as if you didn’t have a liquor-based dinner. Your bladder doesn’t feel like a small child is sitting on it, and you’re wide awake.

Someone’s yelling at you, their voice shrill from emotion yet gravely from the early morning. Suddenly there’s a whip of hot air against your hair and a harsh skid as the smell of tire on gravel fills your nose. You’re on sensory overload, and you don’t have the capacity to care about your surroundings.

This is probably the third time you have to mentally repeat to yourself that it’s daytime, the sun shining brightly on your fallen form. Your body is splayed out in a half-starfish position, and you quickly close your legs in fear of someone seeing up your skirt. You put up a hand to cover your face, and it’s instantly snatched up by a larger one.

“Hey, hey! Are you okay? I know I turned the corner pretty fast, but you shouldn’t be standing in the middle of the street like that!” the person calling you sounds frantic, frustrated at your lack of response.

Your eyes flicker to the small jet black cruiser strewn across the sidewalk, haphazardly parked. Fingers curling around the person’s hand, you look up at their face and scream.

It’s now their turn to collapse on the floor, eyes wide and terrified. Their soft black hair is fluffy and sweaty from using their helmet, now rolling away from their grip.

“What?” he screams back, as if there’s something on his face. His hand whips up to clutch his collar, undoing the top button because he’s starting to sweat profusely. “Are you really injured? Do I need to call an ambulance or something—”

“Jungkook!” you cry, ripping the woolen scarf from your neck to wrap it around the top half of his face. You scramble between his legs, making sure his piercings, tattoos and any other identifiable part of his body is concealed. You don’t even think about your fight from last night, knowing that it’s miniscule in comparison to Jungkook being swarmed by PR. “Kook, what the fuck? It’s broad daylight, you can’t be out like this without a mask! Where on earth did you hide that bike? Why—are you wearing fucking pastel green? Since when have you added color to your wardrobe?” the boy noticeably pauses at the attention to his outfit, tensing under your ministrations. “Dispatch will have your ass and the devil Min Yoongi’ll kill you again for sneaking out—”

It’s then that Jungkook snaps, two strong arms pushing you away like paper. You don’t expect Jungkook to ever lay a hand on you, and with a surprised yelp you’re painfully shoved onto the pavement.

“Get off of me!” he cries, and throws your scarf on your lap. “Who the hell are you and why do you know my name?”

He’s scared, holding his helmet like you’ve burned him. His doe eyes are glistening and dewy, as if you’re someone he should be running away from.

“Jungkook—” and as you hold out your hand to him, you realize.

I’m losing my mind, you think, clutching your head to double-check no injury has come to your brain. His hair is much, much longer. It waves and falls into his eyes, as if he’s just gotten out of bed. He’s wearing a backpack, and you notice some crumpled post-its sticking out of the zipper. Clipped around his neck is a university ID. Heck, he isn’t even wearing an outfit you recognize. Gone are the cargos and oversized sweats, replaced with professionally tapered dress pants and a plain polo.

Is... is Jungkook wearing khakis?

It’s daylight, you’re sober, and the Jungkook that’s standing in front of you is not your Jungkook.

#jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #goldenclosetnet #thekpopnetwork #btsghostiebingo #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #bts fic #bts fluff #jungkook scenarios

376 notes · View notes

everypieceintoafire · 5 years

Text

my homestuck fics on ao3 - a smallish masterpost

I realised I only had these linked on a custom page, which isn't very mobile-friendly, so here they are.

Let There Be Light

An Earth-Shattering Confession was the first fic I ever finished and, aside from an abandoned Star Trek story, the first of my fiction to see the light of day since the mid-00s. I wrote the first chapter on our netbook, sleepless, sat up in bed, uploaded by morning, and I had no idea where I was going with it. Two days later I was uploading chapter two. I had so much fun.

It's about a trans girl who comes out to her friends. That's pretty much it. It's like fifty percent pesterlog.

The amazing thegeekgene has performed the whole thing!

TT: I've been meaning to ask you for a favor. And that favor comes with a confession. TT: It's rather a large favor. GA: I See GA: How Does It Compare To The Size Of The Confession GA: Are We Talking Mountains And Burrowbeast Hills Or TT: The confession is, if anything, larger. TT: Earth-shattering, if you will. Or possibly Alternia-shattering. One way or another one of our planets is going to get caught in the shockwave created by my horrifying secret. TT: The moment I open my mouth to speak the terrible truth will be remembered in the histories of advanced civilizations as the origin point of the bizarre spatial anomaly that erased this world, burrowbeasts and all, from the universe. TT: You may wish to bring a portable transportalizer so you can escape to a less doomed planet once I've opened my heart to you. GA: I Am Afraid I Have No Such Device GA: But As A Troll I Am Capable Of Surviving The Vacuum Of Space For Several Minutes Without Suffering Harm GA: Its Entirely Possible My Mysterious Rainbow Drinker Powers Will Extend That GA: And According To The Book You Loaned Me Two Weeks Ago A Mere Thirty Seconds Is All You Need Before A Helpful Soul In A Passing Spaceship Arrives To Affect A Rescue GA: Provided Said Ship Is Powered By An Engine Sufficiently Humorous And Improbable GA: So We Can Assume I Will Live Through This Momentous Event GA: And With That Assumption Safely Made And Acknowledged By All Parties Move On To The Confession Itself TT: Ah.

The Other Girl came next and is a one-pager about dysphoria.

On Bananas followed that and is basically about how I don't understand Spironolactone.

These stories are grouped together in a series called Let There Be Light. There's also the unfinished stories Growing Up Again and We'll Stand Up Together, which may well continue at some point!

Prompts

Finding the Path was written (mostly on trains and in a great hurry) as a pinch-hit for Homestuck Ladyfest 2013. It's patchy, but the dialogue is kind of fun (primarily because I only had about two days to write it so I wrote the dialogue first and filled in everything else after).

AG: Where did you land? GA: I Am Stuck In A Tree GA: It Is Not Dignified GA: The Branches Are Poking Me GA: The Matriorb Is Okay Though The Future Of Our Race Is Still Assured GA: So GA: You Know GA: Good AG: Stop ram8ling and tell me where you are! I don't like the look of these woods. GA: How Can You Not Like The Woods Isnt Your Lusus Literally A Giant Spider That Eats People GA: Are You Not By Definition The Scariest Thing In Any Given Set Of Woods GA: Oh No A Spider Troll Come To Feed Me To Her Enormous Monster Parent GA: Isnt That You GA: And Yes Of Course I Am Rambling I Go On Like This When Im Nervous GA: For Some Reason Dropping Through A Weird Glitch In The Side Of A Hill Into A Wood That Wasnt There A Moment Before Has Put Me A Little On Edge

Little Blue Heart was written for Homestuck Rare-pair Swap 2014. It's a Rose/Vriska story set a while after the end of Homestuck (which is a thing that hadn't happened yet when I wrote it) when the characters are adults and finally old enough to fuck up their own lives without any outside assistance. It contains the only sex scene I've ever written.

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and something inside you makes it rain.

A reporter came out to the house a few weeks ago looking for a story in the stormclouds that persist over Rainbow Falls, but what was there to say about it except, it's always raining? She asked questions; you lied. She got some footage you doubt ever made it to TV. You deliberately wore a borderline-offensive shirt for the interview, not because you thought it would make them omit you from any potential broadcast—pixelization is a thing, after all—but merely to express your feelings on the whole process.

When she left for the last time, Kanaya told you that your growing contempt for other humans was an unbecoming quality, that your whole attitude towards people and the planet you ended up on was evidence of a bruise on your soul she was on the verge of giving up trying to heal. Things could have been so much worse, she'd said; you could, after all, have all reincarnated on a recreation of Alternia! You shouted back that that would have been better because maybe some troll there would have been willing to take you apart and find out what's wrong with you, and that was what prompted her to slam the front door on her way out. It still doesn't close properly.

Kanaya's staying in town, for now, and occasionally pops up on Pesterchum. She worries. You wish she'd go further away.

But it's true; something inside you makes it rain. The weather responds to your moods as if auditioning for a horror movie, and in the lightning flashes of your anxiety attacks you see writhing shadows in the forest, reaching for the clouds. They match the wriggling and itching under your skin, and what began as a creeping dread grew in the weeks of your solitude into a horrified certainty: when your head aches and the storm breaks the sky in half above you, you feel them as the limbs of something that crawled inside you long ago.

You can put a name to its tendrils, to the things curled around your spine, to the smoke that gathers in your head: horrorterror.

You are almost insulted to be so comprehensively invaded by something with such a stupid, stupid name.

Skylighter was written for When Worlds Collide: Crossover Fanwork Exchange, and is a Homestuck/Pacific Rim crossover. It's also kind of rushed, but it's okay.

AG: This is the 8est one yet! CG: YOU ALWAYS SAY THAT. IT'S ALWAYS THE BEST ONE YET AND JAEGER PILOTS ARE ALWAYS 'ULTIM8 8ADASSES' AND YOU'RE GOING TO BE A PILOT ONE DAY. AG: Yeah, just as soon as I find someone awesome enough to Drift with me. AG: And none of that ever stops 8eing a thing that is true. Look at that punch! CT: D –> This is e%traordinarily gratifying GA: Yes Oh My Goodness I Am Enthralled GA: Left Hook Right Hook Oh My CG: YOU'VE BEEN PRACTICING SARCASM AGAIN, HAVEN'T YOU? GA: I Dont Know What You Mean CG: SOLLUX SHOULD NEVER HAVE MADE THAT INTERDIMENSIONAL TRANSCEIVER, ALL IT GETS USED FOR IS APPALLING HORNLESS ALIEN SOAP OPERAS AND DEPRESSINGLY PERSISTENT BONE-POLISHING OVER ALIEN PORNOGRAPHY. TA: hey fuck you. TA: iif the iimperiial navy ii2 goiing to hang a hiighly 2ophii2tiicated panuniiver2al trackiing 2y2tem diirectly over our head2 they 2hould equiip iit wiith a better 2ecuriity 2y2tem and 2taff iit wiith troll2 capable of fiindiing theiir 2hame globe2 wiithout a map.

#homestuck

20 notes · View notes

dont-stop-the-killerqueens · 5 years

Text

A Little Help (Queen Fanfiction)

Topics: romance, mental health, drama

Queen song to listen to while reading: Is This the World we Created...? (The Works)

Disclaimers: depression, anxiety. (In following chapters:) swearing, smoking, probably smut

A/N: Hey everyone, this chapter is a prologue to a larger fanfiction that I’m writing. I will soon make a masterpost where you guys can find all the chapters I have published. This chapter is just a short introduction to my main character and a little teaser for the plot of the story. So no Queen yet, but believe me they will join the party very soon! In the main time I’m really curious to who you guys think her lover will be! Who do you ship her with? Let me know in the comments!

Word count: 1157

Prologue:

I existed in 1973, in South London, in an apartment that looked upon an old factory. They used to weave cotton in there, you know. Lower class laborers would go every day to their badly paid jobs, just so they could afford their small mold-infested houses where they slept with seven people in one room. They worked 12 hours or more a day in an environment that was just a hotspot for contagious, deadly diseases, just so they could feed their children. Children that had to work themselves instead of getting the education they needed otherwise they would die of hunger before they could even die of tuberculosis.

But that was a hundred years ago. Now I existed in 1973. Not that it was much better, you know. Every day I looked upon that factory and thought of all the people that uselessly laid down their lives, all in the name of making lots of money for the big bosses. Why wouldn’t I just move if this view made me so unhappy? Well, because it was useless. Everywhere I went there was pain and suffering and I wouldn’t have to travel to the previous century to see it. Scattered along the London streets you could find strays living under the dark colored English skies. In the cold winters they would freeze and when the temperature was actually decent, they would beg people for understanding, for a means to survive. But no one even saw them. They were treated as if they were not human beings, as if they were just annoyances on the way to the office. Like mosquito’s zooming around your head.

It was sad enough that there were actually a lot of people like me. People that just couldn’t find the light in every day things. I tried so hard to make them see that happiness, but I was starting to realize they might just have been right. The world really is a ridiculously awful place.

I curled up in my bed grabbing the nearest pillow and pushing it against my body for dear life. The tightening, pushing feeling in my chest didn’t care about my attempts to stop it, to get myself to calm down. I knew this wasn’t real. This dark cloud over my mind was just my brain not producing certain hormones. Hormones that would make you see through a more positive pair of glasses.

I felt my heart beat in my chest and the vibration went through my entire body. My muscles were stiff as stone, all I could do was shake. I couldn’t even lift the glass of water that was beside my bed and spilled cold drops of water all over my sheets and soaking the case files that I had laid down next to me.

I looked upon the smudged letters on the paper and tried to wipe away some of the droplets that had fallen on her name. ‘Eliza’ it read, but I could only read it because I knew it was there. Other people would just see the black stains left by my trembling hands.

My eyes instantly filled with tears as I looked upon the smudged file. I couldn’t help her before and now all hope had disappeared that I could ever possibly help her in the future. But I had to. It was my responsibility. I couldn’t just let her feel how she felt now. It would turn her into the London street homeless or the nineteenth century factory laborers: alone and forgotten. What if she hurt herself? What if she would feel like the whole world was against her? What if she…

I couldn’t finish that thought before I gasped for air and started crying to the beat of my aggressively fast breath. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t do anything right. My entire live was this heap of chaos, this huge uncontrollable mess. There wasn’t a thing I looked forward to anymore, not a thing that I could do right anyway. I had this big responsibility of looking after people, of making them feel at peace with themselves. But they would always end up worse. They told me it wasn’t about me, but that wasn’t the point. I needed to help them and I couldn’t. They were better off without me.

I threw Eliza’s case file through the room, but I couldn’t quite see where it ended up. Everything was blurry from the tears. My hands found their way up my soaked face trying to keep myself from screaming, from falling completely apart. But the knot in my chest just kept getting tighter and tighter. It felt like a heart attack, but I knew it wasn’t. I couldn’t even keep up trying to count the times I had felt like this. I should be used to it by know, but it wasn’t like that. Every time it got worse, every time it took longer to get away and by now it felt like it never really went away at all.

I couldn’t take this anymore. I needed to get away, to a place where this wouldn’t follow me anymore. I needed it gone. Now. Maybe I should just…

I gasped for air and immediately stopped crying through shock of my own thoughts. How could I have let it get this far? My trembling fingers graced over the last tear that was rolling over my cheek. What in good God’s name was I doing? This couldn’t get any further than this. My grip on the pillow loosened and it fell out of my arms on the pile of case files.

With a huge pull of my legs I forced myself to swing them to the edge of the bed. I took up the horn on the phone and turned at the wheel until I had dialed the phone number. After a few agonizing rings someone answered the phone: ‘Hello, Gallagher household.’ The grumpy low voice felt like a little light at the end of the tunnel and the tears started to silently roll over my face again.

‘Dad…’ I said, my voice felt painful and unused. ‘I-I-I’ was all that left my mouth in soft whisper tones.

The tone in his voice spun around. There was now something of concern detectable in it. ‘What’s the matter, love? You can tell us anything, you know.’ By referring not only to him, but also to my mother, I figured she was listening in on us. I could almost picture her pushing her face against my dads to catch what I was saying. Which wasn’t a whole lot.

I really didn’t want to do this. But it had gone too far now. I had made a promise to myself and I wasn’t about to break it like I had broken all of my promises. I just needed…I needed a little… ‘Help’ I cried out followed by a few sobs. ‘Please help me, dad. I need help.’

#queen #bohemian rhapsody #queen band #queen fanfiction #freddie mercury #brian may #roger taylor #john deacon #a little help fanfic

1 note · View note

kiapet2 · 3 years

Text

Aperture Sides Facility, Chapter 3: Any Contact With the Chamber Floor Will Result in an Unsatisfactory Mark on Your Official Testing Record, Followed by Death

Masterpost

Chapter Summary: 11 test chambers down, 8 to go. ~or~ It's montage time!

Chapter Warnings: Captivity, Death Mention, Fear of Heights

12.

Everyone is already waiting for you when you step out of the elevator. Well, everyone except Anxiety, that is, but you weren’t exactly expecting him to show up.

“Hey there, kiddo!” Patton chirps, zooming up to you on his movement rail. “Ready to do some im-portal-ant testing?”

“Eh, that one’s a stretch,” Roman says. Patton lifts his handles in a shrug.

“You’re really here,” you say, dumbfounded.

“Of course we are,” Logan says. “We told you we would join you from here on out, did we not?”

“Well, yeah,” you reply, “but the track record with people in here being honest with me hasn’t exactly been great.”

I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, the Voice says innocently. You turn and glare at the nearest security camera.

“Anyways,” Roman says, rolling his eye, “we need to be doing less chitter chatter, and more figuring out this cool, gnarly test cham- nope, that didn’t sound right. We have a puzzle to figure out, is what I’m saying.”

You move a bit further into the test chamber and come to a ledge- the ground drops off to a few stories below, with stairs heading down, while across the gap is a ledge substantially higher than the one you’re standing on. The setup is reminiscent of another test chamber you had completed. Nervously you look up, and yup, there it is: a panel high in the wall behind you, clearly meant to hold a portal.

“What is it?” Patton says as you groan.

“I think I know what I’m supposed to do here,” you say morosely.

“Oh?” Roman says, moving closer to peer down. “And what solution has graced the gentle folds of yonder mind?”

You sigh, stomach flipping in dread. “I have to do the thing. The thing where you jump and fall into the portal and it shoots you out real fast? I had to do it in a room that looked just like this a few chambers ago.”

“Ah, yes,” Logan says, adjusting his eye lens. “Momentum, a function of mass and velocity, is conserved between portals. In layman's terms: Speedy-thing goes in, speedy-thing comes out.”

“The technique of flinging!” Roman declares. “By falling great distances you can fly great distances!”

“Or I suppose you could put it like that,” Logan grumbles.

“Right,” you say, staring down at the drop as your stomach twists in knots. It’s not that far, right? You’ve done this before. It’ll be simple. Easy peasy.

“Uh, kiddo?” Patton says after a few moments of you staring at the ground. “Are you actually going to do it?”

“Of course not,” a harsh voice says from directly behind you. “He’s not an idiot.”

Everyone, including you, jump and yelp, and you whirl around to see a familiar Core floating behind you.

“Anxiety!” you say, putting a hand to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

Anxiety rolls his eyes. “I live here too, you know. I just followed the sound of someone trying to get themselves killed.”

“Stop being such a Debby Downer!” Roman says. “It’s not that dangerous.”

“Is it?” Anxiety says dryly, “Because Thomas looks pretty scared.”

Everyone turns to look at you, and you feel your cheeks heating. “No, I was just, uh, resting! Gotta keep in good shape and all!” You do a half-hearted arm-stretch to demonstrate, but by the looks on the others’ faces you’re not fooling anyone.

“I believe you are overstating the risks involved,” Logan says. “Thomas’ Long Fall Boots will help him adjust position in the air and ensure that any impacts with the ground, whether before or after entering the portal, will not result in injury.”

“Unless you land half-in and half-out of the portal and break your leg, or land wrong on the ledge and break your neck, or hit your head and crack it open…” Anxiety says.

You turn and glare at the Core, trying to ignore the fear that spikes at his descriptions. “Then what do you want me to do, Anxiety?”

“You could- and I’m just throwing this out there- set down the Portal gun, lie down on the ground and let me drag you back to the cryosleep chamber.”

“Yeah, that’ll be a no.”

Anxiety shrugs. “It’s your funeral.”

You huff and lift your Portal Gun, suddenly filled with the desire to prove him wrong. You shoot a blue portal down at the floor and then an orange one high on the wall behind you, then step up to the ledge, taking a deep breath.

“You got this, kiddo!” Patton cheers, and that encouragement is enough for you to gather your courage and jump.

The blue portal comes rushing at you, and you resist the urge to close your eyes, not wanting to risk a bad landing. You come out the orange portal feet first and are briefly disoriented before your boots kick in and adjust you to right-side-up. You land on the higher ledge across the gap and skid to a stop, unharmed.

You turn back to the others, a grin splitting your face. Roman and Patton zoom towards you on the ceiling, cheering, while Anxiety huffs and crosses his arms, turning away.

“Excellent work, Thomas,” Logan says. “Now do that two more times.”

13.

In preparation for the next part of this chamber, Aperture Science will provide test subjects with a complimentary hint, the voice says as you enter the test’s second chamber. See that ball of electricity bouncing around the room? You’ll need to catch it and carry it manually to the correct receptacle.

“Falsehood!” Logan yells, making you jump. “Any contact with the High Energy Pellets, including through the portal gun, would kill Thomas instantly.

Oh? And have you actually tried touching it at any point?

Logan huffs. “Obviously not, as doing so would kill me!”

Sounds like a deflection to me.

“Ignore him, Thomas,” Anxiety says. “You can’t trust anything he says.”

Oh, and you’ve never been reluctant to share anything with the group, ‘Anxiety’? the Voice says.

Anxiety stiffens. “Don’t.”

What? I’m just saying-

“Don’t”, Anxiety snarls.

Suit yourselves, the Voice says. You wait for it to continue, but that seems to have been its parting words for now.

“Deceitful bastard,” Anxiety mutters.

“Thank goodness that’s over,” Logan says. “Let’s try and get this solved the correct way, shall we?”

You nod in agreement, then get to work.

14.

The good news is, your flinging maneuver gets you onto the raised platform holding the cube you need.

The bad news is, it does this by slamming you into the wall.

You have just enough time after falling through the portal to see the opposite wall rushing up to meet you and think, oh dear, before hitting with an almost comical splat noise, sliding down it and falling in a heap next to the cube.

“Oof, that one looked like it hurt,” Patton says. “You okay, kiddo?”

You groan, rolling over and feeling at your nose with one hand and giving Patton a shaky thumbs up with the other. You’re pretty sure it isn’t broken- would you be able to tell if it was broken?. You’re pretty sure it would be bleeding or something.

“That wall is misplaced,” Logan says with annoyance. “Given that the drop clearly intended for flinging is at a set height, the gap should be designed with that momentum in mind in order to avoid injury.”

“I don’t think whoever’s running this place is really concerned about my safety,” you say, voice muffled from still holding your nose.

“Well that’s blindingly obvious,” Anxiety mutters.

You blink the reflexive tears out of your eyes and use the Portal Gun to grab the cube next to you.

“In the future, I suggest you try to hit the wall with your feet, so that your Long Fall Boots will absorb the impact,” Logan says.

You roll your eyes. “Right, I’ll just remember that the next time I’m hurtling through the air.”

“Good,” Logan says. “Be sure that you do.”

Behind him, Anxiety makes a whooshing sound effect as he mimes something flying over his head. Roman lets out a surprised snicker, biting it back down when Logan turns to look at him in confusion.

Biting your lip to keep from laughing yourself, you hop down from the ledge to resume the test.

15.

“I’ve got it!” Roman declares.

You turn to look at him. "Really? Because I'm pretty darn stumped. I'm obviously supposed to fling myself over that wall, but there's nowhere high enough to fling from."

"You've got to think more creatively!" Roman says. "Is there anything you can do to create a high place to jump from?"

To create a place to jump from? You look at the bare wall behind you, confused.

"It's not like I can fold out the walls," you say, thinking out loud in case you're on the right track. "If I shot a portal high in the wall I could get up there, but there's nowhere to stop off onto."

"Do you need to step off onto anything, though?" Logan says pensively. "Isn't the whole point to fall in order to build momentum?"

"Well, sure," you say, "but I’d need a portal to fall into. And I’d already have used two just getting up-”

The answer pops into your head mid-sentence, and you groan, covering your face with one hand. “Oh, God. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Indeed!” Roman cheers.

“Wait, what’s it?” Patton says, looking back and forth between the two of you.

“Thomas,” Roman says dramatically, apparently able to explain now that you’ve figured it out yourself, “is going to use both portals to get himself high on the wall. Then, while he’s falling, he will re-shoot the lower portal so that he falls right through it, launching himself out of the upper portal and over the wall!”

“Right,” you say weakly, trying to ignore the twinge of fear in your gut. “Piece of cake.”

“Wait for it,” Patton says.

Logan gives him a perplexed look. “Wait for wh-”

“You want to do WHAT?!” Anxiety shrieks from right behind you, making you jump and yelp in surprise.

“There it is!”

16.

You’re just walking out of the elevator and into the new test chamber when something happens to flip your world on its head, yet again. You’re getting a little tired of that.

At first, the robot doesn’t seem like much. A timid little voice says, “Searching,” as you enter the room, and you turn to see some sort of droid standing on tripod legs, with an oblong white body and a single red eye. It only comes up to your waist, and your first thought is it looks kind of cute.

“There you are,” the robot says, and then suddenly you’re being yanked backwards by your collar as the wall behind where you were just standing is pummeled by bullets.

“Are you still there?” the robot who apparently shoots bullets says mournfully, but you don’t have time to register any more than that because your vision is overtaken by the figure of an irate Anxiety.

“What the HELL do you think you're doing?!” Anxiety yells. “He tells you this was a military training room and you just stroll out into the open like you want to get shot?”

“I- I didn’t expect-” you stammer, and Anxiety scoffs bitterly.

“Yeah, you didn’t expect anything, because you’re a dumbass who couldn’t think your way out of a paper bag.”

You’re not going to pretend that doesn’t sting. You hear the others coming to your defense behind you, but their voices are indistinct over the pounding in your ears, the adrenaline of your near-death encounter still running freely through your veins.

Wait…

“Anxiety,” you say incredulously, “You... saved me.”

“What? No I didn’t,” Anxiety says, sounding slightly panicked.

“You did!” Roman says gleefully. “You were helpful!”

“I just don’t want to see you get skewered by bullets. Don’t read too much into it,” Anxiety mutters.

Patton gasps in delight. “You just implied you care about what happens to us!”

“No, I only implied that about Thomas-”

Anxiety cuts himself off, but the damage has already been done.

“Aw, you do care!” Patton squeals, gliding over to Anxiety and nudging him, making the other Core back away uncomfortably. You get the distinct impression that if Patton had arms they would be flung around Anxiety right now.

Anxiety pulls his center plates back into his core in a motion reminiscent of a turtle. It’s strangely adorable.

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “You’re tolerable, I guess. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Noted,” you say, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“If we are ready, I would suggest we move on,” Logan says. “According to the Aperture Science database the turrets are dangerous, but poorly built and relatively simple to neutralize. A sufficiently jarring impact such as knocking them over should be enough to trigger a shutdown, at least temporarily.”

A little tremble of fear and exhilaration runs through you.

“Sounds good,” you manage to croak out.

You turn and look at Anxiety. “Sticking with us on this one?”

Anxiety huffs. “Might as well. You’ll just get yourself killed otherwise.”

You feel your lips curl up into a smile. “Alright, then. Let’s go.”

17.

"I won’t just abandon him!” Patton cries. “There has to be some way!”

“There isn’t one,” Anxiety says. “This isn’t a fairytale, Morality. We can’t save everyone, and the sooner you accept that the more likely the rest of us are to survive.”

Patton gives a rapid headshake, his inner plates moving back and forth. “No! No, I can’t accept that! We’ve been through so much together, it can’t end here!”

Roman nods decisively. “We have faced far greater challenges before and survived despite the odds. We will find a way to save our fair companion!”

“For Science’s sake, it’s just a painted cube.”

Everyone turns and looks at Logan.

“What?” Logan says. “Functionally, it is indistinguishable from any other cube in the facility. It is not even sentient.”

You look down at the cube in your hands. It does, in fact, look virtually identical to the cubes you have been using in the test chambers, with the exception that instead of the Aperture Science logo, pink hearts are painted in the center of each face.

“It’s sentient in my heart!” Patton cries.

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

A reminder that euthanizing your Companion Cube is the only way to progress, the Voice says. If the Companion Cube could talk, I am sure it would tell you to go on without it.

“Surely there’s a way around this?” Roman says.

You sigh. “I’ll try.”

For the next however many minutes, you look around at your surroundings, trying to find a way around. The door forward is closed, presumably until you “euthanize” the Companion Cube by throwing it in the incinerator that is the only other object in the room. There are no windows to shoot portals through, no ledges you could boost yourself up to using the Cube. By all appearances, you are well and truly stuck.

You are sitting on the Companion Cube some time later, head placed dejectedly in your hands while the others continue to debate potential plans of action, when the Voice sounds again.

In light of your unwavering determination, the confines of the test have been altered. The Companion Cube may now accompany you on your future testing endeavors, provided you can actually keep it alive.

The doors in front of you open, revealing the elevator.

“Okay, so that’s a trick,” Roman says.

Anxiety huffs out a bitter little laugh. “You think?”

You cautiously walk up to the doors, but they seem to just be normal doors.

“He did specify that it’s if I can keep the Cube alive,” you say. “Maybe there’s something in the next chamber that could kill it?”

“Again, the Companion Cube is no more ‘alive’ than any of the other-”

“Not a good time, L,” Anxiety interrupts.

You sigh, standing and looking down at where the Companion Cube still sits. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

With that, you pick up the cube using the portal gun, and begin walking through the doors to the elevator.

You don't notice the telltale shimmer of an Emancipation Grill in front of you until the cube has already hit it. There's a loud sound like ripping metal, and as you watch the Companion Cube appears to burn away in midair, within a second leaving you holding nothing but empty air.

Oh dear, the Voice says, I must have forgotten to turn that off. On the bright side, the Companion Cube was most likely incapable of feeling the incredible pain that being destroyed in such a manner would have caused.

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Then, Patton bursts into tears.

18.

“Is this really necessary?” Logan complains.

“Of course!” Patton says. “Thomas needs to rest if he’s going to be able to solve the last few tests!”

You look around at the toxic sludge that surrounds your little platform on two sides. It honestly doesn’t seem like the best place to rest, but Roman was insistent that there was something special about it. The core is currently inspecting one of the walls bounding the platform, staring at it closely and occasionally knocking on it.

“Yes!” Roman crows after a moment. “Here, Lo-Bot! Lock in here!”

Logan glides over, tilting back and forth as he inspects the corner. “I fail to see why such a place is important. It does not appear to be significantly different from the rest of the wall tiling.”

Roman makes a show of rolling his eye. “It’s different because-” he knocked one handle against the wall in demonstration- “It’s hollow! There’s something back there!”

“Wow, good job Roman!” Patton cheers, making Roman preen.

“I will need your help to lock in, Thomas,” Logan says. “I cannot reach the system myself.”

“What s-” you cut off as a small piece of the wall retracts, leaving a Core-shaped socket.

“Ah. That system,” you say. You look at Logan, who like Roman is currently attached to the wall, then awkwardly reach up to grip his handle. “Um, what happens now?”

With a click, Logan disconnects from the movement rail in the wall. You grunt at the sudden weight in your hand, arm lowering before you can compensate, then set the portal gun down and use both hands to fit the Core into the socket. After a moment, a panel slides away in the wall, revealing empty space behind it.

Logan grunts with strain, as if he were physically holding the door open, and says, “Quickly please.”

You duck down and through the new opening, and find yourself in a room completely different from the sterile white surroundings you’ve found yourself in so far. The room is medium sized, with most of its area taken up by a staircase that goes up to a door higher in the wall. The staircase and walls are all made of metal and blotched orange and red with rust and who knows what else, and the wall nearest you is absolutely covered in writing- scribbles, tally marks, and one phrase- THE CAKE IS A LIE- repeated over and over. Whoever decorated the walls seems to have set up a makeshift camp in the room, and a bit of searching yields treasure of immense value- a dusty old water bottle still nearly full, a can simply labeled, “BEANS,” and what looks like some old protein bars. You immediately unscrew the water bottle’s top and chug the entire thing, the water a balm on your dry throat. You can’t remember anything before waking up here, but you’re still pretty sure the water, lukewarm and stale though it might be, is the best thing you’ve ever tasted.

“We can’t actually come in there, kiddo,” Patton says, and you look over to see him hanging in front of the opening, peering in.

You walk back over. “Your rails don’t come in here?”

“This area was not meant to be accessed, by you or by us,” Logan says. He’s floating in the air, and after a moment you realize Anxiety is holding him, having removed him from the terminal he was connected to.

You furrow your brow and say, “I thought you had to hold the wall open.”

“It stopped closing once you entered the chamber,” Logan says, and you don’t miss the implications of what he’s saying. Whoever the entity running these test chambers really is, he clearly wants you to return to them.

A shiver runs down your spine, but you shake it off and reach up to grab Patton off his rail. You do the same for Roman, and after a bit of maneuvering the five of you have settled down into a rough circle on the room’s floor, the Cores on the bare concrete and you on some old cardboard boxes the room’s previous occupant seems to have been using as a bed.

“Geez, I forgot what not floating felt like,” Anxiety says. “This sucks, how do you all deal with it?”

“Well not all of us have the advantage of being in with the boss,” Roman says snidely.

“Hey now,” Patton says, “This is resting time. Let’s all be kind to each other, all right?”

Roman grumbles his assent, while you finish off the granola bar and start on the can of beans. Fortunately, whoever was last using this little hideaway left a can opener nearby, so you don’t have too much trouble.

“Okay, if someone doesn’t shut that radio up I’m actually going to go insane,” Anxiety says as you’re just finishing up the last of the beans.

You blink as you become aware of that same cheery melody you’d heard as you woke up, coming from over beneath the stairs. You’re honestly so used to hearing it in this facility that you just automatically blocked it out, but now that your attention is actually on it, the repetition is indeed grating.

“If you bring it over, I can attempt to change the radio channel,” Logan says.

You get up, wincing as your tired legs protest suddenly moving again, and go grab the radio and bring it over. Logan hums, and in a sequence you recognize from previous connections he’s made, his glowing eye begins flashing in a distinct pattern, one which the radio’s light mirrors as its music changes to static.

The radio lands on another song, a bouncy pop number that Anxiety immediately vetoes. What follows is several minutes of Roman and Anxiety arguing vehemently over songs while Logan flips through channels, Patton tries to mediate and you watch with increasing amusement. They finally resolve things by agreeing to take turns, after which Anxiety selects an angsty rock song about going to see a marching band, which causes Roman to declare him an “emo nightmare”.

After that it’s Roman’s turn to pick, and after a few more channel switches courtesy of Logan, the radio lands on a song that sounds very different from the ones you’d heard before. It’s sweeping and dramatic, and you feel something stir in you.

You open your mouth and start to sing, not the riffs of the previous songs, but in a rich, deep baritone.

Did I abuse her or show her disdain? Why does she run from me?

If I should lose her, how shall I regain the heart she has won from me?

You have no clue how you know the words to this song, but you find yourself getting into it all the same, standing and flinging your arms out as you belt out the song’s refrain of Aaaaaaagonyyyyyyyyyyyyy with all the melodrama you can muster.

You go to start the second verse but taper off within the first line as you realize the singer has changed- it’s a duet. Then another voice takes up the second part, in a baritone so similar to yours you think for a moment there’s an echo in the room. You turn and see Roman, gesturing broadly from the floor as he sings.

Grinning, you jump back in as the first voice rejoins the second, and Roman grins right back as together your voices echo off the room’s metal walls. You sing the rest of the song together, weaving your parts together in the duet and hamming it up to each other as much as possible. At one point you impulsively lift Roman up in your hands (and wow, the Cores are heavy when you’re not using the portal gun), then begin to dance around with him.

As the last note fades, the echoes of the note lingering past when you and Roman cut off, you feel for a moment as if you are standing on a stage, the lights shining in your eyes, the exhilaration of performance running through your veins. Then the vision fades, and you are back in the rusted old room, the memory fading back to the ether.

You hear whoops and cheering from Patton, Logan plays what sounds like a soundbite of actual applause, and even Anxiety begrudgingly gives a few claps with his metal hands.

“That was amazing!” Patton says. “How did you even know the song?”

“No idea!” Roman says, the excitement of your impromptu performance making him sound almost giddy, and you similarly just smile and shrug your shoulders helplessly.

“Well,” Logan says, making a throat-clearing noise, “You would do best to leave it at that. You’re supposed to be resting, not dancing, and too much singing will only further dehydrate you.”

You set Roman back in his place in the circle, then flop back down onto the cardboard boxes with a contented sigh, lying on your back and pillowing your head on your arms.

The radio station devolves back into static, whatever connection the radio was able to make from all the way down here finally giving out, and Logan narrows his eye in concentration as he again begins to tune the radio, searching for another channel.

Finally, the static resolves back into music. In contrast to the previous tune’s complex orchestration, this song features a plain piano playing a mournful melody, the radio’s distortion making the edges fuzzy and indistinct.

Then, the lyrics come in, and the rest of the world seems to fall quiet.

Exile

It takes your mind again

You’ve got suckers’ luck

Have you given up?

Does it feel like a trial?

Does it trouble your mind the way you trouble mine?

You find yourself almost tearing up. Maybe it’s the lyrics, maybe it’s the haunting piano melody, but something with the song resonates deep within you, calls attention to the barrenness of your surroundings, the hopelessness of your situation.

You stare up at the rusted metal ceiling, as if by concentrating enough you could see through it.

“Do you think the sky really exists?” you whisper. “That there’s anything at all, outside this place?”

“I know that there’s supposed to be a sky,” you continue after a moment, needing to fill the silence with something. “It’s sort of a light blue, and the sun shines so bright you can’t look at it, and sometimes the clouds turn it white or grey. I can think of an image of the sky, but I can’t ever remember seeing it. All I can remember is being in here.”

For a moment no one responds, the only sound in the small room coming from the small radio.

You’ve got sucker’s luck

Have you given up?

Does it feel like a trial?

Does it trouble your mind the way you trouble mine?

Does it feel like a trial?

Now you’re thinking too fast, you’re like marbles on glass

“The truth is, we don’t really know what it’s like out there,” Patton says finally. “I’ve never been outside the facility, none of us have. I don’t think we were ever meant to.”

“I have knowledge of weather patterns and star charts, but I have never seen them with my own eyes,” Logan adds.

Patton looks over at you, more serious than you think you’ve ever seen him. “But you’re going to, kiddo. When all this is over. I promise. You’ll see the sky again.”

“That’s right!” Roman chimes in. “We’re all in this together, Thomas. None of us will rest until you’re back where you belong.”

“Indeed,” Logan murmurs. “As our past experiences have demonstrated, the barriers we face are difficult, but not insurmountable.”

Your throat feels tight, and your chest full. What did you do to earn all of them?

Instinctively, you find yourself turning to Anxiety, expecting him to chime in with a sarcastic remark, but instead you find him uncharacteristically silent.

Does it feel like a trial?

Did you fall for the same empty answers again?

“Anxiety?”

“I- I have to go,” Anxiety says.

He rushes out of your little hole, the music fading as if to follow him.

Villify

Don’t even try

Villify

Don’t even try...

When you duck down through the hole again, you find Anxiety floating just outside, looking up at the tall platforms ahead of you.

“Moving on already?” he asks, not moving from his position.

“Almost,” you say. “I asked the others to give me some time.”

Anxiety finally turns to face you, his purple eye somber. “Time for what?”

“Time to talk to you.”

For a moment Anxiety looks at you so intensely you’re half-expecting him to start yelling or something, but then he sighs and closes his eye, turning away.

“From here on out it gets dangerous,” he says quietly.

That startles a laugh out of you. “Dangerous? Like the tests before weren’t?”

“Not compared to this,” Anxiety says. “I scouted ahead, and it’s some terrifying stuff. I really don’t know if you can survive it.”

“Thanks Anxiety,” you say sardonically, “Always love that dose of confidence from you.”

“I’m serious, dammit!” Anxiety yells, making you jump.

You hold up your hands in defense. “Okay, okay, sorry.”

Anxiety’s posture relaxes again, and you let out a sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Look, Anxiety, whatever it is, I’m sure we can face it together.”

Anxiety gives a head shake, his inner plates moving back and forth to convey the gesture, and says, “This whole time, I’ve been trying to protect you. But I can’t do it anymore, Thomas. I can’t watch you go through with this, knowing how it’s-”

He breaks off, probably involuntarily considering the camera on the wall next to you, but you can guess the rest of the sentence: how it’s going to end. You give him a little half-smile, ignoring the sinking feeling in your gut.

“Apparently, I’m getting cake,” you say lightly. You try not to think about THE CAKE IS A LIE written in black marker all over the walls of the cubby behind you.

Anxiety doesn’t smile back. “Don’t do this, Thomas. I’m warning you for the last time: don’t go any farther.”

“I have to-”

“You don’t,” Anxiety says desperately. “You can stay here, in that little den. We can find you enough food and water, we’ll keep you company, maybe eventually we could even find a way out!”

“Anxiety,” you say, pained, “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’d go insane living in this underground box, even with all of you here. I know that the tests are dangerous, but right now they’re the only chance I’ve got to get out of here. I need to keep going.”

Anxiety shakes, rattling audibly. “If- if you go past this point, I’m not going with you. This is the last time you’ll see me.”

Your heart drops into your shoes.

“Oh,” you say when you can find your voice again. “Well, I guess this is it, then.”

Anxiety looks away. “Yeah.”

“Thank you, for keeping me company, and for warning me when I needed it. I’ll never-”

“Don’t,” Anxiety says. “Please, just... don’t. This is hard enough as it is.”

Your grip involuntarily tightens on the portal gun, and you force it to relax again.

“I- okay. Goodbye, I guess. Anxiety.”

“Goodbye, Thomas,” Anxiety says softly.

Then the ceiling opens, and he’s gone.

#aperture sides facility #my writing #ts storytime

0 notes

tenroseforeverandever · 6 years

Text

Dear Father Christmas… Chapter 23: December 24, 2038

MASTERPOST

Characters: Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble; OC Therin Thomson; Javic Thane; Gray Thane; OC Tianza; the TARDIS; OC Abby Tyler-Milne;

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love; gun violence; violence resulting in death; life-threatening injury; life threatening situations; life threatening illness; original characters

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: Jackie decides to make Ugly Christmas Jumpers for everyone in the family.

Notes: Wow! Another chapter that got away from me! LOL And boy, did this one put up a fight.

To my betas, @rose–nebula and mrsbertucci: once again, this chapter would not be what it is without you. You gave me inspiration (which I still feel guilty about!) and we had many, many discussions about lots of things to get me through this, including a particularly hilarious discussion about aliens (I’m dying laughing just thinking about it now… I don’t know why I find it so funny, I just do!) Just thank-you, both, for always being there when I need you, and putting up with my whinging. I love you both!

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The prompt I used today was Santa and/or Elves.

I know it’s the middle of April, but since the weather outside (here in Ontario) is still frightful, I don’t feel too guilty about posting part of my Christmas story. I have eight more chapters to go for the full 31 Days of Ficmas. I’m not sure if I will post any more through the year, or just write them and post them at Christmastime in December. I’ll see how it goes… ;D

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2038

Dear Father Christmas,

My mum never does anything by halves. When Jackie Tyler sets her mind on something, she doesn’t hold back. She gets stuck right in; she takes the bull by the horns and beats it into submission. God help anyone or anything standing in her way. Just ask the Doctor…

(On second thought, best not. He might not take it too well, especially not after… well, you’ll see.)

Anyroad, ever since we welcomed my little niece, Abby, into our lives last autumn, Mum’s been on a knitting rampage. She taught herself. She started out with little things like baby mitts and booties, but quickly progressed to sweet little cardigans and jumpers. And she’s gotten really good! My very favourite one was an adorable navy-blue jumper with the words “I LOVE MY DADDIES!” emblazoned across the front in big, pink letters. Tony and Noah (the proud Daddies in question) loved it too, and dressed little Abby in it all the time, until summer came along, and they were forced to admit it was too hot for her to wear it anymore!

This year, sometime around August, Mum’s knitting took a rather… erm… dangerous turn. Stand aside, Molly Weasley: Jackie Tyler announced she was intending to knit jumpers for all of the Tyler clan, and their significant others, this Christmas.

And not just any jumpers: Ugly Christmas Jumpers.

She only told me and Dad, not wanting to spoil the “surprise” for everyone else. Honestly, we just had to grit our teeth and tell her what a “great idea” it was. It wasn’t like it would’ve made any difference if we’d told her how we really felt. Besides, this way we were likely avoiding the pain of a good hard smack, and months of her patented Jackie Tyler silent-not-silent treatment.

Anyway, it wasn’t like she’d told us about it because she was actually seeking our approval. No, we were to be models, though I rather think guinea-pigs would be a more apt description. Honestly, as Christmas approached, I was seriously beginning to think it would have been better to shut the entire Ugly Jumper Project down in its early stages and endure whatever punishment Mum might have dished out, but at that point, we were in too deep to turn back.

The worst part of the whole process was Mum constantly calling me throughout the autumn to come over to the mansion to try something on, or to bring over jumpers the kids had left behind when they came to visit, so she could compare the sizing with what she was knitting. To be honest it got to be a bit tedious very quickly, but I could hardly say no to her when she was throwing her heart into it. Besides, this way I was able to keep an eye out and nix any design I thought wouldn’t go down very well with the intended recipient.

But, the jumpers were, for the most part, not too bad. They were beautifully designed and made. I was honestly quite impressed. Most of them either featured a cute character like a snowman or penguin or something like that, or they were the traditional Fair Isle design, with rows of little repeating Christmas characters and symbols in garish colours. Regardless of the pattern, all of them had some sort of saying on them, like Joy to the World, ‘Tis the Season, or Let It Snow.

“Soooo, which one is mine,” I asked.

“Never you mind, little madam. For your information, I ‘aven’ started it yet. And even if I ‘ad… as if I would spoil the surprise.”

I suddenly had a horrible thought. Cold dread washed over me. “Erm… what about the Doctor’s…?” Ever since he had revamped her dishwasher to sing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer seven or eight Christmases ago, Mum had been out for revenge. Not that she would admit it. From the look she gave me, you’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but I knew better.

“Oh, I’m tryin’ to come up with jus’ the right pattern for ‘im. I’ve a couple in mind.”

“Muuuuum, don’t do anything rash, yeah?”

“Oh, honestly Rose, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud. I’m jus’ tryin’ to create a little Christmas cheer.”

“Oi! I’m the one stuck in the middle of you and the Doctor and your flippin’ Christmas cheer. Me and Dad!”

She ignored me, of course, and did a complete about-face on the topic. “Oh, speakin’ of your Dad… I got his jumper finished. What d’ya think?” She held up a dark green jumper, with a comical Santa body on it. The pattern stopped at the collar, so Dad’s head would be taking the place of Santa’s head (your head, Santa!) The words Ho Ho Ho were knitted in bold yellow letters below Santa’s feet. “I’ll get ‘im to wear a Father Christmas ‘at and all!”

I had to laugh. “Good luck with that!”

“’E’ll do it if ‘e knows w’at’s good for ‘im!”

“That’ll make for more of your Christmas cheer, then…”

“Oh, don’t ya worry; I’ll make it worth ‘is while.” She winked at me. “There’ll be plenty of Christmas cheer and bells a jinglin’ around ‘ere.”

“Mum! TMI!”

“Since when ‘ave you been such a prude? I mean, jus’ look at the way you and ‘imself carry on.”

“Yeah, but there are certain things I really, really do not need to know. And that, right there: that tops the list! Look, I gotta run. Dad’s asked me to give a presentation this afternoon.”

“Oh, well, I suppose… Oh, Rose, wait a mo’. I meant to ask: Charlie, is she seein’ someone regular these days? Will she be bringin’ a date for Christmas Eve? I’ll need to make ‘im or ‘er a jumper too, yeah, whoever they are.”

“I dunno, Mum. I never know with that one these days. I worry… a lot.”

“She’ll be all right, sweetheart. It’s jus’ a phase. ‘Sides, she’s nearly twenty years old. I don’t need to remind ya w’at you were up to at ‘er age… gallivantin’ around with that bleedin’ alien. Not that you cared a fig about my worries!”

“Mum…”

“She’s jus’ like you in so many ways, so bloody-minded.”

“That isn’t helping, Mum! I jus’ hope you’re right… about it being a phase. Anyway, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything definite about her bringing a date.”

“An’ in the meantime, I’ll knit an extra generic sort of jumper, jus’ in case.” Mum must have noticed I was about to protest, because she cut me off before I’d even had a chance to open my mouth. “Nah, don’t worry; Lor’ knows, it’s no trouble. After all, Therin might still decide to bring someone, too, and I’ll need one for ‘er. Best to be prepared.”

“All right. Suit yourself. See ya soon. Love ya.” I kissed her on the cheek and headed out the door, the problem of Charlie weighing heavily on my mind.

--ooOoo--

That night as I was standing at the stove making supper, the Doctor came up and wrapped his arms around me from behind. He gave me a lovely kiss behind the ear. It was just what I’d needed. I’d been wound up all day.

“Penny for ‘em? You’ve been doing (might I say) a piss poor job of shielding your emotions.”

“That obvious, was it?”

“Yup.” He squeezed me tighter and gave me another tender little kiss. Even without our telepathic bond, I expect he would have figured out something was wrong. And I really had been sloppy about keeping my worry contained. To be honest, I’d been hoping he’d notice. “You could have just told me if something was bothering you.”

I leaned my head back against his shoulder, giving the sauce another stir. “I know. You’ve just been so stressed lately.”

The Doctor had been called in to help with seventeen frightened and violent Trumhurgi whose ship had crashed in Torquay. They were badly injured, and the Doctor was the only one who had any decent knowledge about their unusual physiology. It had been two months of providing medical care for them, sometimes round-the-clock for several days running. He’d been training Torchwood physicians and nurses as well, but it all took time. In addition, he’d been consulting about repairs on the Trumhurgi ship, and travelling back and forth in the TARDIS, obtaining spare parts and contacting worried family members, carrying their messages and even bringing them back to Earth to visit their recuperating relatives.

I’d been working on the case too, but I was helping out the traumatized humans who’d been caught up in the original crash and the violent, defensive outburst that had followed. Shots had been fired and, by some stroke of luck, there had been no deaths, but it had been a close call. Fortunately, I had a huge, experienced team at my command, so my end of the job had been a lot easier than the Doctor’s.

“I’m all right, love,” the Doctor assured me, as we dished up our supper and sat down at the table. It was the first time in weeks we’d actually been able to eat together. “Besides, by end of this week the last of the Trumhurgi go home in their very own, working-better-than-ever ship! Let’s have tonight be about us.”

“Yeah?��

“Yes. Now spill. What’s got you so upset?”

“It’s Charlie. I’m worried. I didn’t tell you about it because… well, the Trumhurgi… but Javic dropped by shortly after all that happened… with news.” The Doctor’s eyes darkened, and his lips tightened reflexively, but he waited for me to continue. “It seems Charlie has been taking a page out of Javic’s book, recently. She’s been, erm… let’s just say ‘embracing her sexuality’… a lot!”

“And he knows this how?”

“Well he ran into her at one of his favourite… spots.”

I sensed the Doctor’s anger flare, white hot. “He didn’t touch−”

“God, no! In fact, he’s sort of taken her under his wing, so to speak. Made sure she’s stayed away from all the dangerous places.”

The Doctor growled. He looked like he was fighting really hard to keep his emotions in check. His eyes flashed at me. It had been a long time since I’d been a target for the Oncoming Storm. It was properly frightening (and more than a bit thrilling!) “And you… you never thought to tell me? This? About our daughter?”

“You were so busy. And it’s not like−”

He launched himself out of his chair with a roar. “You kept this from me?”

Reflexively, I shrank back into my seat, like some timid little creature. “I’m sorry.”

He began to pace, tugging at his hair. Each time he passed me, he opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. His mental shields were locked in place and impenetrable.

After five long minutes, I decided enough was enough. It wasn’t my habit to let him intimidate me and I wasn’t about to chicken out now; history told me, it was far better to confront him, not let him get away with his bullying behaviour. “Doctor, stop! Enough. Sit down so we can talk.”

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me!”

“That’s was the point of having this conversation, yeah? Sit!”

He did as I asked, shoving his plate away from him, across the table. I grabbed onto his hand before he could move it, pouring my love through our bond. I was gratified when his shields began to give; it was only a little, but it was a beginning.

“Any other information you want to impart?” he bit out.

“Well… apparently she has one of Wilfred’s Vortex Manipulators, so… erm… she’s dancing through time and space.”

“Bloody hell!” He moved to stand again, but I held firm to his hand. He glared daggers at me. “Let go! We have to−”

“Have to what, Doctor? What do you propose we do? You’re not going to go storming in there like the Great Exterminator!”

“Try me!”

“This is Charlie… intimidation has never worked on that kid, and it’s not about to this time, either. We need to be rational and calm and supportive.”

“Supportive! But she’s−”

“I know. And Javic has been keeping an eye on her. He’s making sure she checks in with him, and he assures me she’s doing… fine.”

“Somehow, I don’t imagine Javic’s definition of ‘fine’ is quite the same as ours.”

I had to admit (but only to myself) I’d been thinking much the same way, though I knew Javic: he’d go to the ends of creation to protect any of us. “Hope’s been keeping in touch with her too,” I offered, hoping to appease the Doctor.

“Well that, that is a bloody recipe for disaster!” His anger flared.

Again, I had to agree with him, Santa. For all that she means well, Hope tends to get a bit bossy with her younger siblings. She’s mellowed over the years, but still… My arguments were crumbling around me. “You’re right. Let’s go!”

“What?”

“Let’s go… TARDIS. You. Me. Chat with our daughter.”

“But I thought you said...?”

“Changed my mind.”

--ooOoo--

Charlie, it turns out, was not thrilled to see us. I hadn’t been expecting a joyous family reunion or anything, but I think it would have gone a lot better if the Doctor hadn’t barged up to the bar where she was cheerfully chatting up some green-skinned bloke, waving his psychic paper around like some crazed maniac and bellowing to said bloke that Charlie was under-aged (an outright lie… on that planet) and if he didn’t want to find himself in a whole heap of trouble he’d better scram. He’d then grabbed Charlie by the arm and hauled her out of the building and into the TARDIS.

To say Charlie was furious was the understatement of the year! She was ranting on about how it was bad enough her “puritanical” sister was on her case, but the fact that we were now interfering in her life as well incensed her to no end. She only finally calmed after I ordered the Doctor out of the TARDIS. I would deal with him later.

In the end, there was very little I could actually do other than let Charlie know we’d both be there for her if she ever needed us. She assured me she was fine: having fun; being careful; and not doing anything too wild (and “bloody hell, Mum, I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with you… it’s just wrong…”.) I tried to understand, but I just couldn’t put myself in that mindset, and I told her as much.

“It’s just such a relief to be able to have fun and feel good without any obligations. I have so many obligations, Mum. School, Hand in Hand, work... This makes me feel, well free.”

Oh, Santa, it was then I realized how much that little girl (young woman) had taken on in her young life.

She must have seen the look of horror on my face. She grabbed my hand, and our familial bond snapped into place. She read me like an open book. “Mum, don’t you dare feel guilty. You never, ever pressured me, any of us, to do anything we didn’t want. You encouraged us in the best way possible, you… and Dad.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes at the mention of her father. “This is just my way of letting go a bit, taking time for me. Can you understand that?”

“Course I can, love. I worry, that’s all. Promise me you’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“And listen to Javic.”

“Muuuuum! I know!”

“Now, since we spoiled your evening with that young man, how about we take you out to supper, yeah?”

“That sounds great! And don’t worry too much about my evening. He was a bit of a tosser, anyway. I was just about to walk out when Dad came barging in like some daft Onidsessi on pep pills. Urrrgh,” she groaned, “promise you’ll never let Dad near pep pills. Can you imagine…?”

“Oh, god, your Dad… he’s out there… Not on pep pills, but you know as well as me, he’s quite capable of stirring up all kinds of trouble without them if he gets a bit bored.”

Thankfully the Doctor hadn’t been stirring up trouble. We found him, pacing back and forth in front of the TARDIS doors. Charlie skipped right over to him, stopping him in his tracks and planting a kiss on his cheek. I couldn’t help but smile. We might all drive one another completely mental sometimes, but there was no lack of love in our little family, and this incident had assured me our children always knew we would be a safe haven for them whenever they needed it.

With all our emotions running high, I never remembered to ask Charlie if she was bringing home a friend at Christmas, so Mum could plan an appropriate jumper. At this point, though, I didn’t imagine there would be anyone special, given that she seemed to be determined to stay away from serious relationships for the time being.

I couldn’t have been more wrong…

Santa, I need to run. We’re all at Mum’s tonight, and the jumpers have finally been unveiled. There were a few… complications. And I’m running interference! I’ll try to explain later.

Blimey! There goes the Doctor, now, and he looks far too happy for anyone’s good, especially considering… Look, Santa, I gotta go! I’ll finish this letter up later.

--ooOoo--

Santa, I’m back, but I’m not sure where the hell I’m going to begin. A lot of stuff went down tonight. A lot of stuff.

Mum was just itching to hand out her Ugly Jumper parcels to everyone; I couldn’t get her to sit still, she was so excited. We were still waiting for Charlie to arrive and for Tony, Noah, and Abby, too. The Doctor had gone to collect Charlie in the TARDIS. Mum was bouncing off the walls.

Thank goodness my brother and his family decided to show up just after the Doctor left. Entertaining Abby was keeping Mum rather brilliantly distracted, and it meant I didn’t need to entertain Mum. As it turned out, it was just as well Mum was preoccupied, because it gave her time to ease into meeting Charlie’s plus-one which turned out to be a bit of a shock for her, just not for the immediately obvious reason…

The lovely, familiar sound of the TARDIS filled the room about fifteen minutes after Tony arrived. She landed in her customary corner of Mum’s living room, wearing her traditional Blue Box disguise, but topped with festive snow and icicles, and a colourful wreath on her door. The door opened, and the Doctor stepped out, meeting my gaze with raised eyebrows and a little prickle of warning through our bond. He was being very guarded, not sharing any specific thoughts or images, and that made me distinctly uneasy.

Charlie followed him and was tugging behind her what could only be her date for the evening. The creature seemed to unfold itself from the TARDIS. It was very tall and rail thin. Charlie was holding onto one of its appendages, a hand of sorts, at the end of one of its four upper limbs, formed from an assortment of tentacle-like structures. “C’mon Hrau-Ard,” Charlie coaxed. “You’re gonna love my family! Hell, you and Dad are already like best mates!”

“Possibly a bit of an exaggeration seeing as we only met six minutes ago,” the Doctor countered, allowing Charlie and Hrau-Ard to step in front of him, “but he seems like a fine chap, I have to say.”

It took me a moment to get over my shock. Now, let me be clear, Santa, I have no trouble with interspecies relationships… I mean look at my darling husband, not exactly human for all he looks it. It’s just that Charlie, for all her sexual experimentation has never strayed far from standard humanoid partners before... at least according to Javic’s accounts. That’s why I needed to collect my thoughts before I moved forward to greet our new guest.

“Hello,” I smiled up into the creature’s majestic face. And majestic it was, by any standards… beautiful. Trust Charlie to pick a gorgeous date! A long muzzle, with an expressive mouth on the end, swooped up into a spectacular curved crest above it’s head. The crest had two main parts, a longer one below and a shorter part above. Its face morphed gradually from a rich teal colour at the muzzle to a deep indigo at the tips of the crests and was edged with many sensory tentacles and filaments. Two large purple eyes bulged above the snout, and several secondary eyes protruded from either side of the crests, set on stalks which were each adorned with several metallic rings. “I’m Rose Tyler, Charlie’s mum.” I held my hands out, spread open before me in the universal sign of peaceful greeting.

The creature bowed its head to me and dropping Charlie’s hand, held all four of it’s tentacle-tipped upper limbs out, mirroring me. Its fluting voice emanated from the crests. “Christmas greetings to you, Rose Tyler. My name is Hrau-Ard. It is lovely to meet you.”

“He’s male… mostly,” Charlie informed me, “so it’s okay to use ‘he’ and ‘him’.”

Hrau-Ard piped in, bowing his head to me again, “Those pronouns seem to be the most accurate.”

Before I could respond to Hrau-Ard, Charlie impatiently snagged the hand she’d been holding earlier and tugged him past me. “Well, come on in and meet the rest of the family!”

He hooted in surprise, his long tan-coloured tunic billowing and brushing me as he passed. It dropped halfway down his two legs and contrasted spectacularly with the blues and greens of his skin and had an opening in the back through which a pair of wing-like appendages extended. They were bright turquoise and filmy (too delicate to be proper wings) and vibrated as he moved.

I admit, I couldn’t suppress a chuckle at Mum’s incredulous expression as she met him. She passed Abby back to Noah, and looked Hrau-Ard up and down, offering him all the appropriate greetings. She had come a long way since her “bog-monster” days on the Estate and was extremely well-versed in alien diplomacy. After all, she’d welcomed plenty into her home over the years. But, despite all her training and experience, she was still my mum, and I nearly choked when she repeated his name back for clarification: “Howard? Your name is Howard?”

With a low whistle of approval and if the TARDIS was translating properly, amusement, Hrau-Ard inclined his head, his facial filaments bobbing with the movement. “I enjoy the way you say my name, Charlie’s Gran.”

“Oh, just call me Jackie, please. Howard! Of all the names!”

“Is this name of significance to you?”

Mum glanced nervously over to Pete, who was busy grilling Wilfred and Tianza about the medicinal properties of a Gallifreyan plant he was interested in using in a new Vitex drink. “Oh, ‘e’s jus’ an old mate of mine.”

“Fine fellow! Liked fruit!” the Doctor enthused from the TARDIS door with a broad, toothy grin. “I borrowed his pyjamas and dressing gown once!”

“Well then,” Hrau-Ard bleeped, “I am honoured to be his namesake.”

“Oh, off the two of you go then.” Mum shooed Charlie and “Howard” off to meet Tony, Noah, and Abby. She fixed a glare at the Doctor, who had stepped up behind me. “See, there, Time Lump! A proper alien, tentacles and all! ‘E at least ‘as the decency to look the part.”

“So sorry to disappoint you with my lack of appendages, Jackie (after all, I live my life just to please you),” he snarked back at her. “Fortunately, as it turns out, there’s one Tyler who is rather fond of my one, rather impressive appendage, just the way it is.”

“All right, you two,” I cut off Mum before she had a chance to bite back, “it’s Christmastime, yeah? Peace on Earth. See, the halls are all decked,” I gestured around me, “merry and bright. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.”

“Ooooh, I’d like to deck ‘is halls, all right…” Mum grumbled.

The Doctor leaned out around me to shoot another barb at Mum. “Is that your resting Grinch face, Jackie, or are you just happy to see me?”

Mum lunged at him, slapping-hand poised and ready. Fortunately for the Doctor, I was still in between the two of them. “Stop!”

“Cuddly as a cactus; charming as an eel… Mrs. Griii-inch” the Doctor sing-songed.

“STOP!” My shout silenced the room, everyone turning to stare at me.

“Oh, don’t mind them,” Charlie cooed at Hrau-Ard, “that’s sorta their normal behaviour.”

“Look what you two made me do,” I hissed at Mum and the Doctor. “Be civil! Honestly!” Fed up, I made to leave the two of them and go to the kitchen to pour myself a well-earned glass of wine, when Mum caught me by the sleeve.

“Blimey, Rose!” she whispered at me. “That Howard fella ‘as wings!”

“Yeah, well spotted! And tentacles!”

“No, no, no! The wings! ‘E’ll never fit into any of my jumpers! Never! And ‘e’s so bleedin’ skinny and all. (Blimey, ‘e makes the Doctor look like a sumo wrestler, ‘e does!) The jumper I made would be…”

“Mum, you don’t need to worry. He’ll understand, I’m sure.”

She burst into tears. “But I wanted everyone to ‘ave… and now ‘e’ll be without something from me… An’ it’s Christmas…”

The Doctor stepped up, concerned. He put a gentle hand on Mum’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? If it’s what I said, Jackie… you know I was just taking the mick.”

“No, no, no… nothin’ like that, ya plum.” She patted his cheek and gave him a watery smile. “I’m jus’ disappointed is all.” She excused herself and rushed off in the direction of the powder room.

“What was all that about?”

“Promise you won’t tell her I told you?”

“Oh, you know I can keep a secret, Rose! Besides, I know better than to cross Jackie Tyler by leaking sensitive information. C’mon, give.”

I explained to him about Mum’s dilemma, how she had knitted ugly Christmas jumpers for everyone (his face blanched, probably imagining what she might have created for him) and now because of Hrau-Ard’s unexpected physical attributes, none of the jumpers she had set aside would ever possibly fit.

“Well, I could help,” he suggested. “She’s probably not going to like it much, and I can’t say I’m much of a fan of it myself, but I have an idea that just might work… if she’s willing.”

--ooOoo--

Everyone was so busy with canapes and punch and cocktails they never noticed Mum and the Doctor bundling into the TARDIS and the TARDIS dematerializing. The TARDIS was proud to be showing off her new “Silent Mode”: there was only a little bit of a breeze to indicate she had ever been there. (My little darling.)

They had only been gone for about ten minutes before the TARDIS rematerialized and Mum burst through the doors, beaming and carrying a neatly wrapped parcel: Hrau-Ard’s gift. To my utter amazement, she turned back to stroke the TARDIS’ doorframe, planting a soft kiss on the blue wood. “Thank-you, sweetheart. You’re a wonder, you are.”

The TARDIS hummed in response, a wonderfully joyous sound, as Mum practically skipped over to the Christmas tree to tuck the present underneath.

The Doctor stepped up beside me, closing the TARDIS doors behind him. “They hit it off like a house on fire,” he told me, “the pair of them, thick as thieves. Turns out when your Mum was ill a few years ago, and I put her in stasis, the TARDIS kept her company in her mind; they became fast friends. Brilliant!” He grinned down at me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me against him as we followed Mum to the tree. Then he paused, and I glanced up at him to ask why we had stopped. The grin melted from his face. “Although… I don’t much like the idea of the two of them plotting against me behind my back.”

I just laughed and put my head on his shoulder. “Blimey… you’re getting a bit paranoid! How long were you gone in your timestream?”

“Five and a half days, Rose. Five and a half days… with Jackie Tyler on my TARDIS! That’s enough to make anyone paranoid!”

I admit, Santa, I shamelessly started to laugh harder. “How did you ever survive?”

“After the first day, I learned pretty quick to keep my head down. I made myself scarce.”

“Oh, you’ll be all right.” I nudged him with my elbow. “They won’t plot against you…” (…much, I added silently.)

“I heard that!” He arched an irritable eyebrow at me. “Do you realize she’s got her own room, Rose? No, not room, suite! The TARDIS gave her an entire suite of rooms with her own telly and a little galley too!”

“Awww, that’s lovely.” I was warmed through that the TARDIS had welcomed Mum so enthusiastically. My darling husband, however, was another matter. “Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ll protect you from any plotting. C’mon, we better hurry. I don’t think Mum will be able to contain herself much longer.”

Mum was gathering everyone together, so she could hand out her creations, and getting a bit shirty at people who weren’t paying attention, so I dragged the Doctor over by the hand and found a comfortable seat for us.

Content that everyone was present and listening to her, Mum spoke: “I’ve decided to start a new Tyler-family tradition: Ugly Christmas Jumpers! Made by yours truly.” She preened and there was a round of groans from the family and a perplexed hoot from Hrau-Ard. “Oi! They’re not really ugly… that’s jus’ w’at they’re called, yeah. See I’m wearin’ one.” She stood up to show off the jumper she was wearing. It was made of soft, silvery yarn and she had sewn tinsel across the front to form the words “Don’t get your tinsel in a twist,” in cursive script. Of course, she also had tinsel tied around her up-do. She looked sparkly and lovely. My Mum… She’s been through so much in her life, experienced so many odd things, and taken it all in stride; things that would make most people go completely loopy. I love her so much. I was positively chuffed to see her so happy, handing out brightly coloured parcels to all our family.

Dad was the first one to get his present, and he was a real sport about it, donning both his new Santa jumper and the Santa hat Mum had included in his parcel. Everyone burst out laughing when he stood up and smoothed his jumper down over his tummy, and said: “Do you think this makes me look fat? Ho-ho-ho!”

“Oh, sit down, you!” Mum admonished, but I could tell she was pleased as punch.

After that there was great excitement as we all opened our packages. Abby’s jumper was the cutest little thing, with an adorable gingerbread man wearing a Santa hat on a bright, red background. There were miniature gingerbread men down the sleeves and a few white strategically-placed snowflakes. I figure it’ll be a new favourite piece of clothing for her doting daddies!

Javic’s jumper featured a grumpy Santa reading his list of children’s names. The words “I’m at the top of Santa’s naughty list,” were emblazoned underneath. He was ecstatic, claiming it couldn’t have been more perfect. My jumper was… well, glorious in it’s tackiness! And I loved it! Oh, Santa, it was TARDIS blue, and a string of knitted fairy lights trailed all over it. In the middle, the fairy lights formed the words “Merry and Bright” and were lit up with little LEDs. Mum had outdone herself.

Hrau-Ard seemed uncertain what to do with his package, but Charlie soon sorted him out, helping him unwrap the gift. He held the jumper up in front of him, looking around at everyone else trying theirs on. He peered at the design on the front, all of his eyes trained on the bright patterns, and gave a long low hoot.

“Well, are ya goin’ to put it on, then?” Charlie prompted. “Here, I’ll help ya!” Together, the two of them made short work of slipping off Hrau-Ard’s tan tunic and replacing it with the jumper.

Hrau-Ard stood up out of his chair to show his jumper off. It was long, like the undertunic he wore, dropping to mid-thigh, and had perfectly aligned spaces for all four of his upper limbs and his wings.

“The TARDIS helped Jackie with the proper design and style, so it was compatible with his cultural expectations and with his body configuration,” the Doctor murmured in my ear. “She even provided all the yarn, if you can believe that!”

I took a closer look at the jumper. It featured an green-clad elf body on a scarlet background. Like Dad’s jumper, Hrau-Ard’s head took the place of the elf’s head. The words underneath said: “Take an ‘elfie with me!” It was hilarious! We were all in stitches, especially Hrau-Ard, who particularly appreciated the pun in the wording, and was honking with joy, and pulling out his mobile to take ‘elfies with everyone.

I couldn’t help but notice Therin was the only one not laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. He sat on the other side of the room glowering at Charlie and Hrau-Ard and their easy familiarity. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten over Charlie. He still loved her, despite her obvious disinterest in him… at least as a romantic partner. My heart absolutely ached for him as he quietly trudged out of the room, wearing his Fair Isle T-rex jumper.

“I should go check on him,” I whispered to the Doctor.

“Nah, he needs to work this out for himself, love. He can’t change what’s in his heart. He just needs time to come to terms with it.”

“I hate to see him so miserable though… I wish I could−”

“Oi!” Mum’s shriek of disapproval cut through my thoughts. “Where’s your jumper, then, Doctor?”

The Doctor shifted nervously next to me, and I felt his crushing fear in my mind. He picked at the wrapping paper on the package in his lap.

“C’mon then, ya big baby! Open it up! I made it special, jus’ for you.”

“That… that’s what worries me,” he muttered under his breath.

“Here, I’ll help you,” I offered. Honestly, Santa, Mum was right. He was being a big baby about it. Coward every time. “Best get it over with, like ripping a plaster off.”

“I don’t like plasters, and I don’t like the sound of your mum saying, ‘special just for you’. That, right there, Rose, sends my entire brain into mauve status!”

“C’mon, how bad can it be?” Even as I said the words, I glanced over at Mum who was watching the Doctor with a piercing, self-satisfied eye, and I braced myself. “Never mind. Just get it over with, yeah.”

By this time, we had the attention of the whole room, and the Doctor in a less-than-convincing act of enthusiasm, tore away the wrapping paper in one fell swoop. He reached into the shredded paper and pulled out the jumper, holding it up gingerly. Santa, I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. I swear the tears were pouring down my face, and the Doctor was scowling at me.

I better explain. The torso and most of the arms of the jumper were mostly brown. Around the cuffs of the arms, and at certain places over the shoulders were knitted green leaves. Some of them also trailed over the torso and back. When we lifted the arms of the jumper, we found dangling from their undersides none other than beautifully crafted, little knit pears! Pears, Santa, which as I’m sure you know are the fruit the Doctor despises most in the universe… for reasons that have never been very clear to me.

The crowning glory was the gigantic bird sewn firmly to the left shoulder: a partridge.

Mum had given the Doctor a Partridge in a Pear Tree-themed jumper!

Strangely, the bird was not knitted but a small-scale but realistic model, complete with feathers… and that gave me pause for thought, and trust me when I say the thoughts were not optimistic for the Doctor…

“Well, w’at are you waitin’ for?” Mum barked. “Put it on, then?”

“What? You expect me to wear this travesty… this… this pitiable excuse for clothing? Nope. Nope. Nope. Not happening.”

“Oh, just put it on, Dad!” Hope cajoled from across the room. “We’re all wearing them.”

“Yours don’t have pears and a great bloody bird attached, do they?”

“The jumpers are splendid!” Hrau-Ard spoke up with an earnest honk. “This is the most comfortable piece of clothing I have ever owned. And it is humorous too. Doctor, you really should try yours.”

Mum just about melted on the spot at Hrau-Ard’s compliment. “Oh, Howard! You’re such a love. But, you’re just sayin’ that!”

“No, I am sincere, Jackie. It is perfect. I think I like Christmas. And Ugly Christmas Jumpers!”

“Well then, sweetheart, I’ll make you another for next year, yeah?

Howard… I mean Hrau-Ard hooted happily in response, and Mum turned her attention back to the Doctor, by which I mean, she glared daggers at him.

“Oh, all right,” the Doctor conceded, “…if it means I don’t have to listen to any more of your harping,” he added under his breath. He stalked off to the downstairs loo, crushing the jumper in his clenched fist.

“I better go help him out…” I made my excuses and rushed off after him.

I heard Wilfred snickering to Hope, Gray, and Tianza, as I passed them. “Ten quid says they’re off for a snog… or worse.”

Hope just laughed. “No deal, little brother! That’s a sure thing.”

“Oi!” (I’m sorry, I had to protest!) “Enough out of you lot!”

“C’mon, Mum, face it,” Charlie interjected, “you two are an embarrassment.”

“Yeah,” Wilfred agreed, “I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve had to spring the two of you from prison for public indecency.”

“Oi, what’s this then?” Mum leaned in for more tidbits of information, and I cleared out of the room as fast as I could.

Exasperated, I knocked on the powder room door. “Doctor, it’s just me.”

He opened the door to let me in.

“Blimey, we’ll have to watch ourselves. That lot are making wagers on whether or not we shag in here, and they’re telling Mum all about our arrests…”

He groaned, sniffing in disdain. “Bloody brilliant! Christmas, an annual excuse for almost completely unfounded gossip and rumour.”

“Exactly!”

“And then there’s this…” He held up the jumper. “I don’t know why I have to put on this preposterous get-up?”

“Because as I recall, a few years back, you mucked about with Mum’s dishwasher. Now it’s payback time,” I reminded him. “C’mon then…” I helped him pull off the (sexy) red jumper he was currently wearing, and I couldn’t resist running my fingers through the sparse hair on his chest. “Tell you what, though: if you’re a good boy and put the jumper on, I will make it very much worth your while…”

“Oh, yes!”

I dropped to my knees in front of him.

“What? Right now?”

“I’ll make it quick… I know all your secrets.”

He growled at me, his eyes darkening. “I’ll be wanting another round later tonight, Tyler.”

“You think so, do ya?”

“Of course, I’ll be happy to return the favour. I’ll make you come so hard, your screams will be heard all the way to Gallifrey and back! Think you’re up for that?”

I gazed up at him with what I hoped was a seductive smile and stroked him where he was now straining against the front of his trousers. “You’re on! But the real question is, can you manage not to scream? We don’t really need that lot making any more wagers at our expense.”

--ooOoo--

Sorry Santa, got off on a bit of a tangent there… It happens sometimes, as you’re well aware.

So… where was I? Oh, yeah, so fifteen minutes later, we came out of the loo. With my help (holding the partridge), we managed to get the jumper over the Doctor’s head. He looked very, very, extremely not happy, despite my recent… erm… display of affection. “I feel ridiculous!” he gritted out to me.

“It’s just for a few hours, love.” I patted his arm and took his hand for moral support and made bloody sure to conceal my amusement from him.

As we returned to the living room, out the corner of my eye, I was pretty certain I saw some money changing hands, although, to his credit, the Doctor had kept very quiet and I had checked that my hair and make-up were in order. Maybe they were wagering on whether he’d be wearing the jumper… Who knows?

Anyway, I had to agree with the Doctor’s assessment: the jumper did look more than a bit silly, but everyone cheered and laughed at it. They were having so much fun over it, and the Doctor ended up being a good sport, showing it off, spreading his arms and making silly faces about the “vile” pears dangling from them.

I admit, I kept to myself the fact that I thought there had to be more to it than just a jumper with pears and a big, daft bird. Mum had waited years to get her revenge. She wasn’t about to let him off with something so… simple. I could only wonder what she had planned and when it would happen.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to wonder very long.

It was only a few minutes later when Mum called us all over for supper. She, of course, had place-cards at every setting. The Doctor was sat between Hrau-Ard and Gray, somewhere in the middle of one long side of the table, and Mum and I were directly across from them. Charlie was on the other side of Hrau-Ard; Noah and Tony were sat on either side of Abby, who was in Tony’s old high chair at one end of the table; and Dad was at the other end. Everyone else was scattered randomly around.

As the first course was served, everyone began to chatter to one another. The Doctor seemed quite relaxed, but I couldn’t help noticing the way Mum’s eyes kept fixing on him as he made cheerful small talk to everyone around him. Her lips pursed reflexively every time he stopped talking. She tried a couple of times to get Dad to tell us about something that had happened at work, but he had insisted he didn’t want to talk shop. He was determined to take some time away from it.

“Fine,” Mum muttered under her breath, “just tryin’ to liven up the conversation. Honestly.”

“I thought we were having a lovely time,” I told her. “Everyone’s relaxed and chatting… well except Therin, but you know… What’s going on? You’re up to something. I know you. You never ask Dad about Torchwood.”

“Pfffft, don’t be daft! Course I ask ‘im. And jus’ w’at do you mean ‘up to somethin’’? W’at could I possibly be up to?” With that, she turned deliberately away from me and began speaking to Hope about the progress of the Lunar settlements and asking her how she was finding living on a base. “I don’ know if I could take it, yeah. No fresh air, being cooped up inside all the time. I think I’d lose my mind, yeah.”

The Doctor’s eyes brightened as he responded to her. I was relieved he didn’t end up spewing out something rude about her already having lost her mind years back, which honestly seemed like it would be the natural course of the conversation. Instead, he launched into one of his diatribes about the environmental systems on the bases and how they purify the air.

With a smirk, Mum sat back in her seat to listen.

“…and remarkably, the fundamental design never changes from base to base, year after year. It’ll be centuries before someone gets the bright idea that basic human needs aren’t quite being met by–″ He was cut off when the partridge on his shoulder swung around and flapped its tail across his face. He frowned, spun the bird back around, and began to speak again.

This time the bird nipped his ear.

“Fuck!” he shouted in pain, which of course was mimicked loudly by Abby at the other end of the table.

“You dolt!” Mum snapped. “Now, look what you’ve done!”

“Oi! It’s your blasted bird that bit me! Oi! It just did it again!”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Giggles erupted from the little girl as her daddies tried to shush her, and everyone had a good laugh.

Except Mum (“Don’t be so stupid! It’s not a real bird, ya numpty!”); and the Doctor, who glowered at Mum but (remarkably) held his tongue.

“Mum,” I hissed at her, “it bit him. I saw it.”

“Bit him? Stuff and nonsense!”

The Doctor shook his head at me, and at his telepathic request, I decided not to pursue it any further.

Abby had calmed down again, her new word forgotten as quickly as it had come, and normal conversation resumed around the table as the main course was served. It wasn’t long before the Doctor had dived into a conversation about the most current medical breakthroughs with Gray and with Hrau-Ard, who was apparently training as a physician as well. They bantered back and forth for a short time and then the Doctor launched into a long discourse about the benefits of some sort of medical scanner or other. About a minute in, the bird wheeled around, slapping him in the face with its tail once more, and another few seconds after that, it bit him again.

“Right! Ow! Again, you bloody– Ow!” He dug into his trouser pockets for his sonic, threatening the bird with it. “Now, we’ll sort– Blimey! STOP! Ow!”

I glanced over at Mum who was chuckling away to herself, while everyone else was up, getting ready to help the Doctor. Oh, she knew exactly what was going on. And I had no doubt she had orchestrated it.

Hrau-Ard had stood up and was holding the bird still, his tentacled appendages wrapped around it securely. He was doing a great job keeping it from pecking at the Doctor’s ear, which seemed to happen every time he tried to talk.

Mum scoffed next to me. “Talks far too much, anyway, that one. Maybe this will teach ‘im to keep quiet and not monopolize the conversation.”

“So, this was you, then? How the hell did you...?”

“Oh, sweetheart, it only goes off when ‘e natters on for too long. It resets again after ‘e’s given our ears a bit of a break.”

“But…”

“Oh, I know a few of the folks down in Tech. They were quite ‘appy to do me a little favour, especially after ‘imself barged in there a month or so back and told ‘em they were sequencin’ somethin’-or-other all wrong.”

“He told me about that. It was all wrong!”

“Well, seems they didn’t like ‘is tone… all ‘igh and mighty and ‘I’m so clever’.”

I flopped back in my chair, and just shook my head. I returned my attention to the other side of the table where the Doctor had adjusted the settings on his sonic and was brandishing it at the animatronic bird.

“Oi,” Mum yelped, “don’t you damage my bird.”

“Priorities, Jackie! Your bloody bird is trying to damage me. Do you realize how hard I had to concentrate to get these ears… not to mention this hair?”

“It is really great hair,” I agreed.

“Oh, shush you!” Mum shot me a scathing look.

“Right then! Allons-y!” Heedless of my mum’s protests, the Doctor activated the screwdriver pointing it at his feathered attacker, and several things happened all at once.

The strangest screeching sound reverberated from Hrau-Ard’s crests in harmonics that mimicked the sonic. He lost his grip on the bird and doubled over, two of his appendages flying to his crests. “This tickles! This tickles! I think I am about to…”

The bird, freed from it’s confines, resumed its attack on the Doctor’s ear, feathers flying everywhere. The Doctor, fumbled his sonic screwdriver, caught it again, and made a quick adjustment to the frequency, constantly yammering and threatening the bird and Mum, not quite making the connection that if he just shut up, the stupid thing would stop pecking him. Finally finding an opening, he pressed the tip of the sonic to the bird’s breast, activating it with a triumphant “Ha!”

Hrau-Ard had resumed his composure once the sonic had stopped but started making that bizarre sound from his crests again once it was reactivated. His facial filaments were absolutely trembling. “It is happening again. I am going to… I am going to…″

The sound seemed to amplify the effects of the sonic. The hapless partridge stopped its attack, but its entire body began to pulse as the wailing hoots from Hrau-Ard’s crest intensified. Everyone was covering their ears, except the Doctor who had turned off the sonic, and was watching in horror, from the corner of his eye, the ominous pulsing of the bird on his left shoulder.

“I am going to–″ Hrau-Ard shouted, and his crests shrieked in a final eruption of noise, and the bird’s body suddenly exploded with a massive blast, sending feathers, sparks, and electronic gizmos everywhere.

“–sneeze,” Hrau-Ard hooted into the silence that had fallen over us all.

A long moment later, just as everyone was catching their collective breath, the Doctor yelped, as cinders from the explosion caught in his hair, causing it to smoulder and burn. “Ow, ow, ow! Blimey! My face! My hair!”

Abby started howling; everyone started shouting; I leaped across the top of the table to get to my poor husband; and Gray, the only one maintaining his composure, picked up a pitcher of ice water and dumped it over the Doctor’s head.

The Doctor sat there, completely stunned, as water dripped from his fringe into his face.

“Oh my God! Doctor!” I pulled his damp body against me, hugging him tight. “Are you all right?” I pulled back from the hug to look him in the face. I took in the angry red welts, the burned hair and…

He must have seen my astonishment. “What? What is it?”

“Your… your left eyebrow. It’s… it’s gone…”

“What? What?” His fingers flew to his brow, where the hair had been singed away. “WHAT?”

“And some of your hair… just up the left side…”

“Jackie Tyler!” he bellowed. He made to get up from his chair, but Gray shoved him back into it.

“Sit still! You have burns. I’ll need to use the dermal regenerator on them.”

“It won’t bring back my eyebrow, though, will it? My left eyebrow too. It’s my most expressive one,” he added wistfully.

Mum had come rushing around the table. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry! That wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ll cut your hair for ya, real nice. And your eyebrow will grow back again in no time, I expect.”

“Yeah, I suppose it will,” he said relaxing a bit. “And more expressive than ever! Makes you think, what would I ever do without eyebrows?” He shuddered at the thought. “And, Jackie, I have to admit, you couldn’t have known that the sonic would resonate with Hrau-Ard’s crests and make the bird explode like that. Though, I have to say, good riddance!”

“It is all my fault. I must apologize profusely,” Hrau-Ard hooted, his wings fluttering.

Mum protested, “Oh, no, Howard!”

“Nah, she’s right, Hrau-Ard,” the Doctor reassured him, “don’t be silly! But now I know not to use my sonic at that frequency in your presence.” He beamed. “Besides, what fun would Christmas be without a little bit of unexpected excitement?”

“At least there aren’t any blinkin’ killer Christmas trees, yeah?” Mum pointed out, as Gray finished up with the dermal regenerator.

“Oh yes! Too true. Looking on the bright side, Jackie. Do it while you can, because you know what…?” He bounded out of his chair, tore the remnants of the hapless partridge from his shoulder, and plucked the Santa hat from Dad’s head. He shoved it over his wet, scorched hair and with a wicked grin spreading over his face, he sang: “Jackie Tyler… you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout. I’m telling you why: Santa Claus is coming to town.”

Oh, God, Santa, the look on Mum’s face. “Oh, you wouldn’t dare…”

“And Santa isn’t happy, Jackie. Really, you better watch out…” He skipped away out of the dining room, heading directly for the kitchen.

Mum took off after him. “You stay away from my appliances. You’re a bleedin’ hellion, you are,” she shouted.

Hrau-Ard honked in alarm and pulled Charlie next to him, wrapping his tentacles around her.

“Don’t worry, love,” Charlie sounded resigned, “you get used to it once you’ve been around this crowd long enough. We’re all a bit mental, but we all love one another.”

So, there it is, Santa. A typical Tyler-Noble Christmas!

I spent quite a while trying to intercept the Doctor before he did any damage to Mum’s kitchen... and other things. I actually found him mucking about in her en suite. Not sure if he managed to do anything before I caught up to him and got him back home, but at least I got to him before Mum did. Like I said before, he looks far too pleased with himself, despite the missing eyebrow and the singed hair. He must have left some sort of surprise behind for Mum. No doubt I’ll hear about it soon enough.

And right now, I’m just waiting for him to “return the favour” he promised me in Mum’s powder room earlier, something about making me scream so loud I’d be heard all the way to Gallifrey. He’s just spending an awful long time in the loo... probably trying out my eyebrow pencils, if I know him. Maybe later I’ll take the TARDIS out, go back a few days, and get him some of his own for his stocking before everyone gets up tomorrow morning.

Happy Christmas, Santa. Give my love to all. Sorry for going off on a bit of a tangent earlier. I was just lying here, waiting for the Doctor and thinking… Oh, I reckon you’re used to it by now, yeah. There’ve been a few tangents over the years and I haven’t had a lump of coal yet. But, just saying, if you feel the urge to leave a lump of coal in the Doctor’s and my mum’s stockings, by all means, go right ahead! I’m all for it!

Love, Rose

#doctorroseprompts #kidfic #tentoo x rose #christmas fic #extreme silliness #fluff #family #hurt/comfort #ficandchips #tenroseforeverandever's fic

13 notes · View notes