#oh and maybe he likes to read stuff? write poetry? too? but today he's gonna sleep like a lazy cat instead

[zuzu-draws]

Just a pair of friendly sorcerers out on a stroll~

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #uraume #jjk sukuna #jjk uraume #true form sukuna #og sukuna #heian era #king of curses #fan art #my art #jjk art #sukuna when he's not out terrorising villagers and sorcerers: I eat drink and sleep #oh and maybe he likes to read stuff? write poetry? too? but today he's gonna sleep like a lazy cat instead #Food tastes better when you're eating it with another person #so i HC Sukuna doesn't mind having Uraume eating along with him #:')

[stillfrownyclownlol]

Oh nooooo somebody stole my Aidlyn/Ashden headcanons so now I have to write more ... ✨️

(SORRY IM SPAMMING THE TAG 😭😭😭)

Some of these are based on my dad because he has bpd and he really reminds me of Aiden.

-His sense of humor is so broken like. Probably makes "that's what she said" and "your mom" jokes. Ash thinks he is the unfunniest person alive 🤡 and she STILL laughs at him (but never when he's trying to be funny). I think he'd be on Vine a lot lmao. He would laugh at that video of the bread slice falling over no cap.

-Aiden Clark, Professional Doomscroller. Maybe an itty bitty bit addicted to social media cuz "omg easy dopamine hit" even if he doesn't post a lot. Would prolly be chronically on TikTok if he was a teen today 🤡 Ash WILL steal his phone and hide it so they can "do something productive" (which alternates between her trying to teach him basic life skills to him falling out of a tree because they went outside for five minutes)

-her parents also gave him a truly awful shovel talk. He came out of it, kneeled in front of her, and said if he broke her heart to kill him before her parents did 💖 Tyler and him bond about their "scary in laws", although he has a better relationship with Mike and Emma than Tyler does with Mary and James 🤡

-convinced her to go to prom because "free food" and managed to wrangle out a slow-dance from her. He already likes dancing, SHE likes dancing...he wants to dance together ^_^

-She really likes his normal smile, when he's not forcing it. He takes good care of his teeth, so he's got a real bright smile :)

-Aiden tried to teach her how to skateboard a few times. She can...stand on it without falling off and roll around, but no tricks lol. Ash still thinks it was just an excuse for him to grab her hands or waist while she was balancing.

-Some problems in the relationship: they are not very good at communicating how they feel, so there's a lot of misunderstandings between them unless the gang intervenes haha ":D Sometimes Ash feels very suffocated by him and she really dislikes his apathy towards himself, and Aiden sometimes feels like Ash doesn't care about him nearly as much as he cares about her.

-his depressive episodes alternate between "I'm just gonna lie here and hope I die" to "actively trying to self destruct", sometimes he might go on a binge (overdosing on his meds, and when he's older he might sometimes drink too much or go on really dangerous joy rides, he's an awful driver), they really freak Ash out :( Recovery is a very long road with no end destination. She's trying to get better at reassuring him and he's trying to...just get better.

-both of them suck at remembering their anniversary 🤡 Aiden is a littleeeee bit better

-They have a knife collection they share ❤️

-he has her as "love of my life 💖✨️😍" on his phone contacts and has a special ringtone for her and everything. Absolutely not embarrassed about it, Ash...definitely is 💀 (she has him as "Aiden")

-sends her really bad poetry he wrote for her because writing his feelings down by himself is easier than saying it in the moment. Ash keeps all of them in a shoebox in her closet.

-she's not really good with touching and stuff but she feels better touching him, like a good stim. Really likes holding his face (no eye contact). Also enjoys him holding her hand.

-Secretly a little insecure about how she looks. She has never really thought about it before because she never cared about it, but now, in a relationship, she's kinda self conscious about him perceiving (read: constantly staring) her. She's very short and thin (even with muscles from ballet and training) and feels like a "late bloomer." Aiden thinks she's the closest thing to physical perfection that exists and will tell her this constantly ^_^

-She actually likes how he smells (grâce à: his really expensive soap lmao) but she would die before telling him lol

-The first time she kissed him her brain kinda shut off and she just squished their faces together while puffing her cheeks up. He bust out laughing and completely murdered the mood 💀 They'll figure it out...eventually

#heres a game: guess which ones are my dad lol #sbg #school bus graveyard webtoon #sbg (webtoon) #school bus graveyard #aiden clark #aidlyn #ashlyn banner #aiden x ashlyn #headcanon #tw self destruction

[thefanficmonster]

Chaos Magnet

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None :)

Genre: FLUFF, HUMOR, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When Y/N get invited onto a stream with the gang by Jack (Sean) she’s not sure what to expect but it’s safe to say that such chaos is not something she could’ve ever imagined.

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your lovely request, it really had me laughing and still had me be awe-struck by the adorableness of the idea. Sorry it’s been such a long time since you put in the request but I still hope you come across the fic and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Alright people, silence in the call for a moment!“ Jack calls out when the lobby’s counter has finally reached up to nine, leaving room for one more person who is yet to join, but apparently he doesn’t care much that he’ll probably have to repeat himself when the tenth person enters the call and lobby.

“Jack, you should know by now, the day there’s silence in this call is when some supernatural force murders all ten of our mics. It just won’t happen, deal with it.“ Charlie, who was having an ‘intense’ discussion with Toast up until Jack’s interruption, says sarcastically, chuckling ever so slightly, enough for it to be contagious and make me crack a smile as well.

“There won’t be silence, I’ll be talking. If only the rest of you would LET ME.“ Jack replies just as sarcastically, getting Charlie to let out an actual fit of laughter. When his chuckling subsides along with the rest of the chatter in the call, Jack finally gets to have the speech he mentioned, “Right, ok so here’s the deal folks: today we have a guest addition to the stream, curtesy of mine because I’m obsessed with her channel. As you might or might not have noticed, there’s one person missing from the lobby but she’s gonna be joining us any minute now. As I said, I’m a huge fan so you better not embarrass me or I swear I’m gonna kill you first when I get to be an impostor.”

I don’t know what the others are thinking - probably something similar as what I’m thinking though: Noted, embarrass Jack to the best of your ability. Trust me, getting him flustered in front of his YouTube idol is well worth the death in Among Us he’s threatening us with.

“Also keep in mind that she’s of a different kind, not of our breed if you will - she’s an ASMR YouTuber. Not those who eat in the mic just because they think it’d be pleasant for people to hear.“ Jack goes on to explain, the way he’s described this girl’s craft is quite intriguing, especially when you consider how confidently Jack expressed his distaste with ASMR in the past. He’s always claimed not to be a fan but here we are, I guess people really do change.

“Thank you for making it seem like I do more than just cut up soaps, Jack. I really appreciate it but don’t bump the bar up that high, people will be disappointed when they actually visit my channel.“ An unfamiliar voice appears in the call out of nowhere. Though, unfamiliar is not the adjective I should focus on when describing this girl’s voice. I’ll list a few more but even they won’t do it justice: pleasant, awing, mesmerizing, unbelievable, out-of-this-world...I really could keep going.

“Oh come on, Y/N, you don’t just cut up soap. You turn them into bath bombs too!“ Jack laughs, earning him a playful scoff from the newcomer. “Oh yeah, almost forgot - Everyone, this is Y/N, our ASMR artist.“

“Please, some ‘artist’ I am. The people in my comment section would disagree with that description.“ She giggles after kindly responding to each and every greeting the gang sends her way, myself included. “The word I’ve seen people use most when describing my channel is ‘cringey’ so....yeah.“ She laughs, a genuine laugh instead of the bitter one I was expecting to follow such words.

“That seems to be the cool kids’ favorite word, don’t dwell too much on it.“ Rae tells her reassuringly, “What’s important is what word would you use to describe your channel?“

Y/N hums, sounding as though she’s fallen in thought but that’s only one brief moment before she answers. Or begins to, at least, “Well, if I were to describe my channel with one word it’d be....BEEFY!”

That one out-of-context word, screamed out by such an angelic voice has me breaking down with overwhelming laughter collapsing all my ability to hold back.

“Out of all the words, you’d choose beefy?“ I somehow manage to ask between fits of laughter that render me breathless.

“She’s a vegetarian, I think, I don’t know why she’d choose that word.“ Jack too is laughing his butt off but has a significantly better grip on it, “Y/N, care to explain your peculiar choice?“

There’s a lot of shuffling and random noise on Y/N’s end before her reply finally comes, accompanied by a weak meow, “Sorry guys, that was a classic cat of Mr. Beef Stronganoff seeking attention by being chaotic.” She says through laughter, her words followed by another meow which was a lot more clear, seemingly closer to the mic, “He took down my mic, and he seems like he wants to do it again....BEEFY NO!”

For some reason, even with that explanation in mind, I can’t keep myself from laughing. Come to think of it, I think the explanation only makes it funnier.

“Ugh, darn it! I saved my mic but he ran across my keyboard and turned my webcam off how do I turn it back on?“ Her voice dies down for a few secs before it reemerges from her end, “Ok nevermind I got it. Now I can answer...what was the question again?“

Recovering from his laughing fit, Jack manages to repeat the question, “What word would you use to describe your channel?”

“Oh that! Right, ok. Um, I’d call it aesthetically pleasing and BEEFY NOT THE ROUTER CABLE YOU DUMMIE!“

She’s insane. Or her cat’s insane. I can’t tell. Maybe both. Either way, I can’t help but feel like I’ve found a soulmate in this literal stranger. It’s safe to say us chaos magnets like her and I, we don’t only attract chaos, but also chaotic individuals. I’m so glad she magnetized me to herself. Or was it the other way around? We may never know - mystery is in the nature of us chaos magnets, you know.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse fic #corpse fluff #corpse fandom #corpse fanfic #corpse fanfiction #corpse x you #corpse x y/n #corpse x reader #corpse imagines #corpse imagine #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse husband fic #corpse husband fluff #corpse husband is ruining my life #corpse husband imagine #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #fluff #x reader #requests open #request

[catwatcha]

Pairing: Chan x Reader

Genre: Angst/fluff/smut

Word count: 2153

Warnings: 18+ smut & cursing & fainting

Authors note: shit goes down in this chapter so eeeeeekkkk

You’re too hard to forget.

It’s been one week without any dreams. I have moments where my eyes are closed and I see flashes of images that look like various hospital rooms. But none of them have Chan. I told Jasey what had happened, I think. Honestly my body felt numb and my head was ringing so I don’t know what exactly I said, but I said enough that she would leave me alone, because I don’t want to think about it.

Unfortunately, it’s all I can think about.

It’s Monday morning again. I walk into school and plaster a smile on my face, knowing that I can take off in just six hours. I can do that, right? Yes, I think. I walk over to Jasey as usual, but stop when I see a familiar face. It’s the boy who I saw outside the coffee shop a couple weeks ago. He seems to recognize me too, because he stares at me with wide eyes. “Uhhh,” I say when I look at him, and thankfully Jasey doesn’t seem to notice and interrupts me. “Y/n! You’re here! This is Minho,” she says, and I can see the blush spread across her cheeks. This is her secret. And apparently, mine too. “I’m Y/n,” I say to him, though I’m looking at my shoes. He hesitates, but introduces himself in a similar way. I silently thank him for not saying anything like, ‘I know you’, or, ‘wait you’re the weirdo who’s friends with my girlfriend?’ We shake hands. He smiles. I smile. And then I turn on my heels, because suddenly I feel dizzy and I’m having flashbacks and if I don’t run, my feet might stay grounded forever, in a state of confusion and shock. “Y/n!” Jasey yells after me, but I keep walking, because I don’t know what else to say. I hear a few whispers behind me, and then I feel a hand gently pulling my arm, stopping my escape plan. I don’t want to turn around in fear of explaining myself to Jasey, but this is worse. The person with a grip on my arm is Minho. I see Jasey on the other side of the courtyard, and she knows something because she’s staying put. Does she know what I told him? Does he even know the depth of what I told him? Right now I don’t care. Because no matter what I told them or told myself, the dreams are gone.

Minho lets go of my arm, but I know he wants to know what’s going on. I speak first. “Sorry, I’m running late and I have English and I’m happy for you and Jasey so anyways I’m gonna get going…” I said. “Y/n, yeah?” he says. I nod, and turn away but he reaches for my arm again. “Wait, I want to talk to you for a minute!” he nods over to a bench, inviting me to sit down. But before I can think, my head is spinning and Minho is there and Jasey is rushing over and there I am. I’m shaking, for reasons I don’t know, and there are so many voices yelling at me from reality as well as from my very own mind. My head hits the concrete, and I pass out.

“I’m okay love.” Chan is in a hospital bed. His hair lies flat, and his skin pale. But he still looks like Chan. My Chan. His eyes shine looking up at me, and his lips form into a smile. I hug him. “Why haven’t I been able to see you?” I ask. It’s been days of waiting, hoping, and wondering if he was okay. They wouldn’t let me in, but I knew I could’ve if he wanted me to. “Why didn’t you let me see you?” I asked as my eyes filled with familiar tears. “Because even though I was hurt, I knew that if you saw me it would hurt you too. And seeing you hurt causes me more pain than anything physical ever could.” I thought about his words, but only for a moment. Because the next thing I know, I’m consumed in a kiss that made my heart stop. I missed him. But he’s okay. It’s us against the world, and I knew nothing would change that. We were back. Chan was going to be okay, and so was I.

I woke up in the nurse’s office. I’ve only been here a few times, usually when I faked a cough to get out of class or when I get migraines. This time though it felt like I was in the middle of some depressing party, held just for me. To my right, Jasey and Minho are standing over me, talking in worried tones. About what, I don’t know. To my left, I see my mom, and that’s when I think this is serious. Then again, She was probably just obligated to be called because of the school phone call I’m sure she received. As if I had pushed some sort of button, the all look at me at the exact same time. Well, I think. This is awkward. Mrs. Amy, our school nurse, is the first to speak. “Y/n, can you hear me? You hit your head pretty hard. Do you want some water?” I shake my head. I don’t want water. I want to go back to bed. Because even though my head is actually pounding, and I’m still a bit nauseous, none of it matters right now. Chan is back. Why now? I look at Minho. He looks at me. When I shook his hand, something felt so familiar. Like he was connected somehow, but no matter. “Thank you.” I say, and I’m smiling like an idiot. He looks at me confused, but I get up and I walk out of the crowded office. And I’m running, because I have so much to do but I have only one place to go right now. I’m going to the coffee shop, and I’m not going to be scared to go in this time. It could be the beginning of the rest of my life if I would just take the extra three steps.

Minho’s P.O.V.

“Minho, I’m so confused right now,” Jasey says to me. “We literally just watched Y/n pass out hard, and then run away like she got a shot of adrenaline.” It was about 9 a.m.now, so I was very late to school. I decided to just skip today in general. This was far more interesting than world history. “I don’t know, Jae. I don’t even know her,” I say. Y/n and I hadn’t even really met that day at the coffee shop. Is this about what she said to me then? I barely remember. I just remember trying to comfort someone who looked a bit shaken up. I never thought she might be broken completely. Maybe this has something to do with that Chan kid? Maybe a breakup, who knows. I love Jasey, but do I have to deal with her friend now? It’s bad enough that Chris is already going through some breakup with a girl he won’t tell me about, and he’s slept at my house every night this week. We play music and he reads and I like that he makes me pizza (that boy can fucking cook, even if it’s just simple things), but I don’t know Y/n. I can’t handle this too. “You should talk to her,” I say to Jasey. “She’s just going through something right now,” she says back, and looks down at her shoes. I think. And then I have a stupid brilliant idea, that could help both me and Jae. We were both so caught up with our friends that we never got much time together. “You know,” I say. “If she’s going through a breakup, I may have an idea. Or even not a breakup, but just rough shit. I know it’s hard and stuff, but I think she should talk to one of my friends. Actually, I think they’d get along really well. They could keep each other company.” I mean, Chris and Y/n. I think they’d be cute. “Calum, that’s never going to happen. I’m sorry baby, but Y/n is taken. I mean, sorta.” She’s laughing, like what I said, it was the dumbest idea in the world. Ouch. “She’ll be okay. I’ll talk to her later,” she says. Oh well. Was worth a shot, if not for Y/n, for Chris at least. I apply her last words to him as well. He’ll be okay. Everything will be fine.

Y/n’s P.O.V.

I’m scared again. Five minutes ago, I told myself to take a deep breath and just walk in. That was after the twenty minutes of standing there, pretending to be on my phone and thinking. I did this so nobody would ask me what’s wrong, like Minho did. Big mistake. But now I’m here and I’m scared. Thinking about Chan always made me feel dizzy because I didn't know what was real and what was a dream. It felt like it had all just become one big blur, dragging myself to and from school, skipping my way to meet Chan and trudging my way to meet Jasey at her place. She knew about the shop, and she knew that I’d never gone in, even though I was there so often. After running out of school this afternoon, she deserved a call from me, at the least. So I called her and went over to her place, and here we are back at the same downtown corner with the smell of coffee and muffins drifting through the air. I was smiling like an idiot, and had told Jasey why I was so adamant about getting out of school. I left out the part about Minho. To me he was just another human on this earth who happened to be dating my best friend, but he had a weird effect on me. I definitely didn’t tell Jasey. She didn’t ask. “Are you ready? Let’s just grab something to go, I’m really thirsty anyways.” I knew I couldn’t stand there like an idiot for any longer. I almost lost Chan once, the worst had already happened. I knew I was ready for anything. I took one last deep breath before bracing myself, and I took my first steps into the nostalgic feeling cafe.

I took in this new feeling, both the physical and mental aspects of it. It was exactly the kind of place that I dreamed of spending hours in, reading books and writing poetry. It had dim lights and a few couches, and wooden tables were scattered around the room. It’s exactly what I knew it would be, aside from a few changes here and there, but I couldn’t help but take it all in with wide eyes. Jasey had left to go order a drink for her and myself, and I went to the table that faces the window, like I had known myself to do many times before, yet never before while conscious. This was a feeling that I was starting to like very fast. At first I couldn’t remember why I was even here, but that was only for a moment. I looked around me, but I saw no sign of a dark haired boy with the eyes that I drowned in every night. There was barely anyone here, actually. I still saw my best friends backside at the counter, waiting for our drinks and striking up a conversation with the barista. A few seats over was a boy who caught my eye.

He had bright blonde hair that was down across his forehead. His shirt was tattered, but in a fashionable way, which he wore with black skinny jeans and dirty black converse. His eyes were piercing right into mine, a dark brown that I wish didn’t scare me as much as they did. I looked down at my hands to see them shaking the smallest bit. There was something about his presence that made me uncomfortable, but at the same time like I belonged even more. He looked out of place, but acted like it didn’t matter. Just like me. I looked up again, surprised to see that he was still staring at me with an unknown emotion in his eyes. He looked confused, almost. He stood up, and I unconsciously held my breath, not knowing why he was walking over to my table. The door was behind me, but he wasn’t looking at the door. He was looking right at me, almost as if he was looking through me. He stood 2 feet from me now at a dead stop. I studied his face, while I’m sure mine had “shock” written all over it.

“Allie?”

#bangchan fluff #bang chan fluff #bang chan #bang chan smut #skz chan #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz bang chan

[terrestrialtoads]

Since tumblr is being sussy and not letting me change the...kinda childish embarrassing thingy up there I decided to introduce myself here.

But yknow what I should be allowed to be childish and not feel embarased

Anyways hello there.

I am dun dun dun me, aka zeke/zeni (with aye aye captain)

My birthday is on the 7th of February so that

You can use any pronouns but I prefer they/them

I'm a panromantic asexual

My interests are literally everything actually like marvel I'm there haikyuu I'm here for it swiftie you belong with meeee but yeah I love reading I love closing the doors, turning off the lights and leaving just a single lamp on and pretending no one's gonna disturb me or smthn

I also...write poetry sometimes this was supposed to be just poetry but I have a friend called Alex and well he's just...i have no words but tomatoes

I also watch football sometimes ig I like Liverpool and formula 1 omg I love formula 1

Honestly I love all the drivers but seb max Lewis lando leclerc got a special place also bottass I feel sorry for the lad he always gets overlooked I feel like

Is this too long idc I feel like dancing no don't wrote random stuff here

Anyways I'm still...i think I'm non binary for now but once my mids are over I want to explore more

Well real life is hard sometimes and texting is fun and I hope I'll make some cool online friends through tumblr and just...i want an online safe space tbh and maybe tumblr can be it?

Idk I have many poems which I'm too scared to post but idk maybe I'll post some today

Also I love watching movies and tv shows ie fast n furious star wars stranger things umbrella academy barney adventure time princess bubblegum and marceline (I love them both) GRAVITY FALLS OML I LOVE IT SO MUCH and i wanna get into Steven universe but idk oh yeah and pjo and maze runner and jpop and electro pop and rap and music and music and music and a good book together and hot chocolate and ice cream and chill music and slow music and old music I love music

On that note I hope you have fun reading my writings and my random thoughts and my reblogs and interacting with me if ya want

Peace out?

Hastag Yolo

Hastag yodo

#Introduction #New #Tumblr #New to tumblr #New Post #No but like really is this how its supposed to go idk #Idc at this point #I just wanna not study rn #I'm half ded while. Typing this hoenstly #Which are new some old some new #Wall e I love finding nemo and lion King and coco and toy story #Everything like I said most things

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [2.1]

Masterlist

A/N: OH MY GOD I LIVE!!!! Also, spoiler ahead for The Bastards graphic novel; not so much plot-wise but there are a few lines from the book. Indented paragraph is credited to Emerson Barrett and XoBillie.

“I have loved you from the moment you first smiled at me,

Giddy, mischievous, not ever looking for trouble yet somehow

Trouble has a way of always finding you.”

Remington stared wistfully at the view from Eva’s balcony, knowing how self-conscious she was when he watched her as she read a piece. In his lap sat Pluto, satisfied to have his ears stroked while he took his afternoon nap. 

He couldn’t explain it, but somehow Remington found he was always transported to a new dimension when he heard Eva’s poetry. It was so soft and delicate, he could appreciate it the same way one does the petals of the first flowers of spring. Everything about her writing was so soothing, now a familiar notion that he never wanted to let go of.

“You’ve ignited a fire in my belly with embers sparking and popping

Under the intense pressure of your dark eyes 

And the bubbling pearls of your laugh.

I loved you when I first ran into your open arms and marvelled

“My God, you feel just like home”

And with a few simple touches the open sores on my skin 

Recede and heal, and their pain is a faint memory in comparison

To the electricity your fingertips carry. 

I loved you when we were flying over the streets,

Vibrant yellow, orange and purple coating my eyes and

Painting you into Monet’s Twilight, Venice.

You’re a renaissance masterpiece that has been imprinted

Into the soft folds of my brain...”

Eva set her book down having finished the incomplete piece, watching her boyfriend with a dazed smile on his face as the echo of her prose sunk in. She simpered to herself with giddy.

“You know, I always have mixed feelings about reading you my poetry,” she said.

“Why’s that?” Remington asked, “It’s very good,”

“I know that. And you know that,” she smirked, “And I know that you know that I’m low-key inflating your ego with this shit,” 

Remington chuckled, reaching out across the small table to take her smaller hand in his, “Would it put you at ease if I told you my ego is too far gone?”

Eva rolled her eyes and snapped her notebook shut, “Maybe I should start writing poems about the things you do I find annoying?”

“You say that like it’s bad,” Remington shrugged, giddy when she shook her head in dismay at his teasing. 

Pluto continued to lie motionless in Remington’s lap, assuming the sphinx position as he had his ears rubbed. However, the tabby’s eyes sprung open when a guttural vibration shook through the small wooden table, disturbing the peaceful afternoon. 

Eva glanced at the familiar glare of ‘Blocked Caller ID’ appearing, refraining from showing little disdain as she declined the call. Remington however was curious; for the past few months he’d seen Eva decline calls like that over and over again. The first few times he figured it was telemarketers, or scam calls. However, he noticed how they came frequently in the weeks; more prominent on Wednesdays and Thursdays. 

“Who is that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Eva shrugged, “It’s blocked for a reason,”

“But if you blocked the caller... then you have to know who it is so you could block them,” he reasoned, “Right?”

Eva responded in silence, taking her phone and quickly tucking it beneath her thigh. Remington stared at her pointedly. 

“Eva, you get these calls nearly every day,” he said, “If it’s something bad... you know you can trust me with anything,”

“I know...” Eva nodded slowly, exhaling, “It’s my mom,”

Eva had been exceptionally non-forth coming when it came to her life back in Seattle, only remembering hearing about her friends and family once or twice. He respected her privacy, though he couldn’t help but be a tad curious. She fit the overall profile as someone who was running away from her problems.

“You blocked your mom?” he asked, somewhat in disbelief though from what he understood of their relationship he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Eva nodded, “Yep. Either she can’t take a hint or she’s way more stubborn than I am,”

Remington looked across the street to his own house, the gentle breeze billowing through the sheer curtain in the living room he remembered his mom helping him and Emerson pick out. 

“Why don’t you speak to her?”

“Why don’t you speak to your dad?”

“I told you already,” 

Pluto then leapt off of Remington’s lap and landed on the table, crossing over to his owner and staring at her with his big, soulful eyes. Eva smiled and gently scratched his ears.

“She showed up to my graduation, which would have been fine... but she showed up with her new husband and a kid,” she admitted.

Remington raised his eyebrows, “Her own kid?”

“Yeah. She got married to her co-pilot and they have a ten-year-old son together. She abandoned our family and started a new one,” Eva shook her head, “I guess being married to a chem teacher wasn’t as exciting for her,”

“What did your dad do?” he asked.

“That’s the best part. He knew about it and chose not to tell me. I just couldn’t believe it,” she replied, “But the fact that she just... she disappeared for years and then showed up again with a new family -- at my college graduation! How could I possibly celebrate after seeing that?”

“And you haven’t spoken to her since?” he asked tentatively.

“No. The way I saw it, she walked out of my life with no qualms. So... I walked out of hers. And it doesn’t matter how much she phones me; I don’t have time for disingenuine people,”

Remington reached over to take her hand that was resting on the table, stroking gently over the bumps of her knuckles, “Did you... did you meet her son?”

It was then Eva looked truly bummed out, “I think that’s the part I regret most. I mean -- he’s a kid. It’s not his fault his mom is a flake,” 

Remington nodded, “Do you still love your mom?” 

“I don’t know,” Eva shrugged, “Call me a coward, but avoidance is just easier to deal with,”

“You’re not a coward,” Remington assured, “I get it. But... speaking from experience, you can only avoid your issues for so long. As hard as it may be, you might want to address these problems sooner rather than later. I promise you won’t regret it,” 

“Rem --”

“She’s your mom. And obviously the fact that she’s still blowing up your phone should tell you something,”

Eva sat quietly, letting his words sink in. She knew Remington was right; knowing what she knew about him she also knew that he wasn’t just talking out of his ass. She appreciated that he understood where she was coming from, she just wished that his solution could be as easy as it sounded.

“I will call her back... eventually. My dad wants me to come home for Christmas, I guess I have to,” she chuckled sheepishly, warranting a sympathetic smile on his part, “Just... not today,”

“That’s okay,” Remington said, gently squeezing her hand, “It’s all gonna’ work out, Eva,”

“You can’t promise that,” she pointed out.

He shrugged, “Let’s not call it a promise, then. Let’s call is a whim,” 

July had faded into August, as did pandemic fatigue. The streets were becoming busier, the business’ were seeing more intake in revenue, and people were slowly coming back out to try and enjoy was little of a summer was left.

And while most people were doing their best to social distance and keep safe, the cases continued to grow. Safe in the confines of the house, Eva sat at the table and read over the final print draft of the band’s graphic novel. Eva was blown away, completely immersed from the plot line to the artwork. She was supposed to be working with Emerson on his latest project, yet afforded herself a small break. 

Across from her, Emerson was reading through Eva’s Tumblr blog, blown away at the amount of work she had posted since mid-June. Every prose and line was so vivid, painting a clear picture of her emotions. On the one hand, he couldn't help but be a little uncomfortable, knowing the sensual poems he was reading was about his older brother. On the other hand, everything was so poised and punctual -- he figured he may borrow some stuff to try on Shy some time. 

Eva turned to a new page littered with more text than it was visuals, but on the edge of the left page was a stunning, very accurate sketch of Remington. His hair looked so different in the form of a basic sketch, yet those eyes, that face still captured all the majesty and curiosity within. She was unable to help that her fingers glossed over the lines that made up his torso with all his tattoos visible, tracing down the length of his arm to the vanity beside him and back up again. The cold paper singed her fingertips as she read the prose beside the sketch, a small smile creeping onto her lips with every word that echoed in her brain.

“...Emerson thought that if hell and heaven had a bastard son, that it would be Remington. His brother had an angelic-looking face with big almond-shaped eyes. His eyes were brown but could shift into black, and melt into the iris. It was a look that Emerson though the angel of hell would be proud of. But then, in the right light, those dark eyes changed and came to glimmer like the purest of gold - a look angels would swarm for. Apart from the eyes, his face was the feature of him that seemed to never change no matter how brutal this world was to him...” 

Eva had to give credit to Emerson for his writing, capturing his brother in such a way that she herself would have. And like the flip of a switch, the memory of Remington’s eyes flashed through her mind, shining of gold and beauty the way the words had echoed to her. 

In another blink his eyes turned into the eerie shadow of black, flashing a look he’d throw her way when his lust for her consumed him. In one paragraph, Remington had been portrayed as a killer from hell, offering flowers to his peers instead of knives.

Though, all romanticism was put aside as Eva read the paragraph again, noting the last line she had skimmed over quickly:

“...his face was the feature of him that seemed to never change no matter how brutal this world was to him. The rest of him was not...”

There as no denying how cruel the world had been to Remington and his brothers, though the more she pondered the more she realized she had never seen the type of dejection in his face the way Emerson had described. He always appeared -- not happy, per say -- but content with his life. 

Emerson looked up from his tablet, noticing the way Eva’s eyes were glued to her own reading, her hand placed protectively over the sketch of Remington. 

“You okay, Eva?” he asked. 

She glanced at the youngest brother, shaken by the break in silence. But she smiled reassuringly and flipped the page, despite not having finished reading the last. 

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded, “It’s absolutely beautiful. I did make note of a couple grammatical errors... I hope you don’t mind,”

“It’s fine,” he grinned, “Deadline for rewrites is on Friday,”

“If you'd like, I could go through the rest for you. I’m in between articles right now,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Promise I won’t post spoilers for fans,” 

“Might have to get you an NDA,” he giggled merrily, “I’ll send the file over. You ever work with InDesign?”

“A few times, yeah...” she trailed off, a new train of thought lingering in the back of her mind, “Emerson... can I ask you something sorta’ personal?”

Emerson raised an eyebrow, “How personal?” he asked. 

She breathed out carefully, “Remington had told me about your dad --”

“What did he say?” Emerson asked quickly, his cheerful demeanour quickly souring.

“Just that he hadn’t been in the picture for a while,” she said assuringly, “Nothing else,” 

Emerson began to relax a little, “Okay. What’s your question, Eva?”

“Say he out of the blue started making an effort to get back in touch with you... would you take that offer?” she asked.

“Nope,” he replied shortly, “Because if he wanted back in our lives, it would be for his own gain,” 

Eva stayed silent, his quick answer all she needed to know that she shouldn’t push the envelope. Emerson saw the fall in her face, feeling a tad bad for being so short with Eva. 

“Sorry...” he grimaced, “I just... I don’t like to talk about my dad,” 

“I understand,” Eva nodded, “I’m sorry I brought it up,”

“... Why did you?” Emerson asked curiously.

Eva exhaled, her fingers picking at the edge of the glossy page, “Just getting room different perspectives. My mom and I don’t exactly have a Gilmore Girls kind of relationship. I’ve just been thinking ‘cause she’s been trying to get a hold of me for so long,”

“Was she nice to you? When you were younger?” he asked.

“I don’t really remember,” Eva replied truthfully, “She was -- superficial. There but not really there,”

He cocked his head, his wispy black hair falling over his eyes, “So... you’re trying to figure out if you want a relationship with your mom?” 

Before she could reply, they both turned when they heard footsteps echoing in the hall towards them. Michael had appeared, panning his camera around for new footage for the band’s Youtube channel. Eva was unsure whether she pay attention or turn back to the book and pretend not to see. 

“What’re you two working on?” he asked, focusing the lens on Emerson so Eva was just out of the shot. Michael respected that Eva was a touch camera shy. 

“Top secret,” Emerson replied promptly, “And if we told you, we’d have to kill you,”

“I won’t unleash that wrath,” Michael chuckled, “Don’t have too much fun!”

“We’ll try,” Emerson muttered as he sauntered into the next room. 

Eva closed the book and pushed it aside, sighing to herself as she pulled back her laptop and opened Emerson’s project. The youngest brother watched her unabashedly, picking off the air of uncertainty swirling around her. 

“Does Remington know your mom keeps calling you?” he asked.

“He was kind of curious as to why I kept getting all these blocked calls,” she replied.

“What did he say?”

“That everything was going to be okay,” she nodded slowly, “You don’t know how many times I’ve heard that in my life and... it’s not. So, I’m super inclined to believe him,” 

Emerson swallowed, “My brother has a tendency to want to take care of everybody. And it’s not a bad quality. But he also doesn’t know how he can make it better,” he said.

“It’s not up to him to make it better,” Eva declared. 

“But he loves you,” Emerson stated, “And just because of that, he’ll want to help you find your way out of this. When Remington commits to someone, he tends to go one-hundred-percent all in,” 

Eva simpered to herself, “I appreciate him. He’s -- definitely been a plot twist,” 

“Good or bad plot twist?” 

“Very good,” 

Emerson smiled as she started to type on her keyboard, some of Eva’s vexations visibly released when the topic had changed to Remington. As she appreciated Remington, Emerson appreciated Eva for all that she’d done for him. He had this gut intuition, a simmering notion that Eva was going to be sticking around for a long time. And he had absolutely no problem with that.

“Can I ask you a serious question, though?” he asked.

“Of course,” Eva nodded.

“Do you like his blue hair...?” he asked with a drawling disdain.

The young brunette turned her head in the direction of the distant chatter of the boys. 

“I take it by your tone you’re not a fan,” she said.

Emerson scoffed, “He’s taking me back to the Kool-Aid dye trend,”

“Oh, Emerson,” 

#palaye royale #palaye royale imagine #palaye fanart #palaye positivity #Palaye Royale fic #remington leith #Remington Leith imagine #Remington Leith fic #emerson barrett #sebastian danzig #band blog #band imagines #band imagine blog #poetry #domesticity #original series #original story #original female character

[rightsockjin]

Hi, can i request 21 and Yoongi please?

Here you go! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Collage AU! Yoongi and you are in the same psychology class and he really can not stand you...

Rating: K+

Genre: FLuffY flufF Fluff... It’s fluff. but like a lil..

This was really fun to write and I can’t wait until I get to write the rest! Please send in an ask if you want to request a prompt! 

Prompt list

She’s just so obnoxious,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Then stop talking to her,” Joon said with a shrug as he turned the page of his book.

Waves of frustration ran through him. He didn’t really think that Joon wasn’t looking at him. He knew he was overreacting but he needed to blow off steam.

“I can’t,” he groaned for what felt like the millionth time.

“Why?”

Questions.

That was what Joon was made up of.

Whats and whens and whys.

Yoongi, being the introvert he was, usually wasn’t fond of people like this but Kim Namjoon had been an exception.

He’d never tell him that though.

It was too fun to roll his eyes at his -

Fr-

Frien-

Fr-fr-

*cough* friend *cough*

He did just that before running a hand through his dark hair.

“If I had a 500 won for every time you ask a question-“

“You’d be rolling in money- yeah I know,” Joon said, still not looking up. Carefully, he highlighted a sentence.

Yoongi watched as the perfect yellow line appeared against the slightly beige page filled with poetry.

Namjoon was anal about things like his notes and books and writing.

Yoongi on the other hand, wrote like a kindergartener and didn’t give a single shit.

Still... It was kind of satisfying to watch him highlight words.

“Still, I don’t see why you keep in contact with her if she gets on your nerves.”

Yoongi scoffed.

How many times must he explain?

“Because!”

When he didn’t continue, Namjoon finally glanced up through his lashes as if this would be enough to egg him on to continue.

Yoongi raised his eyebrows, daring him to ask another question as he crossed his arms.

With an exasperated sigh, Namjoon grabbed a bookmark from his pence bag that was carefully coordinated by color and stuck it between the pages before he closed it and set it aside on the table they were sharing to study.

Study, being a loose explanation for their presence on campus since Yoongi had only set his multiple psychology books on the surface of the table and hasn’t touched them since he sat down half an hour ago.

“I‘ll bite,” Joon said, a smirk on his face as he straightened and pushed his glasses on the bridge of his tiny nose.

Yoongi smiled and waited for his Fr-Joon to ask him to continue.

Hey, he may be an introvert, but he had feelings and emotions that he wanted to get off his chest and Namjoon was a fantastic listener.

He never took his sarcasm to heart.

This is one of the many reasons that Yoongi liked...

Anyway-

“Because of what, Yoongi?”

A dopey smile graced Namjoon’s face as he rested his round cheeks on his knuckles.

This is what he was talking about.

Full attention bitch!

“Because,” Yoongi said once again as if it was an inconvenience to speak at all, “she’s the smartest person in my psyc classes! I refuse to acquaint myself with anyone who isn’t level with my intellect.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes tapping his long fingers against his dimples cheek.

“Big words for such a small man,” he said before breaking out into high pitched giggles.

“You know what isn’t small?” Yoongi challenged.

“Your ego-“

“My dick- awe come on man! Just once let me have my fun,” Yoongi groaned slamming a hand on one of the biggest and heaviest books he had.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the library aid glare in his direction.

He smiled and waved cheekily but shrunk into himself slightly before he turned back to Joon and his infuriating smile.

“You look like a big baby in those overalls,” Yoongi said when he couldn’t think of a good comeback.

Namjoon smiled and leaned back, his hands threaded in his hair.

“That’s the aesthetic I was going for.”

Stupid tree hugger.

Yoongi opened his mouth to say something else.

Probably something about his obnoxious habit of tapping his pens on the table when a chair was pulled up on his left quickly followed by one on his right.

Hoseok and Seokjin

Or as he liked to refer to them in his head-

Icarus and Narcissist

-weren’t exactly his friends rather, they were Namjoon’s friends but he tolerated them on most days as long as they didn’t come on too strong.

Today was one of those days that they got on his nerves instantly.

“Yo,” Hoseok half yelled, getting an annoyed “shh” from the library aid, his chair turned so the back was facing the table and his legs were spread on either side.

“How’s it going,” Seokjin added.

“Did your class end early?” Namjoon asked, looking down at his watch in confusion.

“Nah,” Hoseok answered looking at Seokjin mischievously.

“We snuck out of the lecture half way through.”

Namjoon scrunched his nose in distaste while shooting the library aid an awkward smile at Hoseok’s loudness.

“That is so irresponsible Hobi! Don’t expect me to stay up with you two all night for the next test like I did last time-“

“Oh don’t start with the lectures Namjoonie,” Hoseok groaned.

“We just snuck out of one, we clearly don’t want to listen to boring people drone on and on and on....”

“I hope you have fun failing your next exam.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Hoseok said clearly unbothered, “you said that last time as well.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. He’d never told Namjoon but that Hoseok really struck a nerve with him.

He was always relying on Namjoon to make sure he passed his classes since all of them were in the same minor- music.

He never did anything on his own and in general, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel he was using him.

Maybe he was jealous.

But nope that wasn’t it Yoongi didn’t do feelings aside from annoyance.

“Whatever,” Joon said, turning his attention back to Yoongi, “anyway, can’t you just- I don’t know, talk to her minimally?”

“Talk to who?” Seokjin asked curiously.

“Her?” Hoseok added, his eyes wide.

“Does Yoongles have a girlfriend?”

“Thanks a lot,” Yoongi said, staring directly at Namjoon with a ‘look at what you did’ expression.

Namjoon shrugged and blushed.

That was another thing.

Namjoon didn’t have a single filter.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Yoongi clarifies.

“I have a nemeses,” he said, his fist clenching on the table and his eyebrows connecting.

A slight silence followed after that.

Then like dominos, Hoseok burst out laughing, closely followed by Jin and then finally by Namjoon.

Yoongi felt his cheeks warm as the boys raucously laughed. Hoseok slapping his leg, Namjoon covering his mouth and Seokjin rocking in his chair.

“Wha-well she is! She’s like... top of my class! It’s always between me and her and it’s gone to her head!”

“Ah- Uh- a nemesis?” Hoseok asked between explosive laughter.

“Or like arch-enemy,” Yoongi said with a thoughtful sigh, accepting his fate as the boys laughed louder.

Even Namjoon, who was just as anal about following the rules- which Yoongi guesses had something to do with the pretty Library aid was laughing his full belly laugh.

“An arch-enemy?” Seokjin asked for clarity.

Yoongi nodded.

“She’s like my mortal enemy,” he finished.

Yeah

That felt right.

It was a couple more seconds in which the aid glared in their direction and their laughter died down.

Yoongi waited patiently for them to quiet so he could continue. Might as well. They all knew now.

When they finally did, Namjoon noticed the way the aid was looking at them and blushed, hiding in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t you think that’s a little over the top?” Seokjin asked, whipping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“No.” He answered simply.

And he wasn’t.

You were everything he couldn’t stand.

You were inquisitive like Namjoon.

You were overtly loud like Hoseok.

And you were as full of yourself as Seokjin.

And on top of that, you were a genius?

You had all of their worst qualities, and

He.

Couldn’t.

Stand.

You.

Namjoon cleared his throat then, drawing his attention back to the group.

He looked flummoxed.

“Maybe we should go eat or something... I’m starting to feel bad for the people studying.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok giggles looking in the direction that Namjoon kept glancing in.

“It has nothing to do with the death glares that glasses is giving us, right?”

He pointed over at the aid who was indeed shooting daggers in their directions

“No!” Namjoon said instantly.

“It’s just that the library is supposed to be a quiet place for studying-“

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist English boy,” Hoseok said.

Yoongi scoffed.

“The best you could come up with was English boy?”

“Well I’m not an English boy,” Hoseok answered dramatically swooning.

“Clearly,” Namjoon murmured, putting his stuff in his satchel.

Yoongi began to pack up as well. He really had planned on getting some reading done while he was hanging out with Joon but he quite obviously got side tracked.

He’d have to do it later.

“So where do we wanna eat, gang?” Hoseok asked, standing up.

“I think I’m gonna pass,” Yoongi said, realizing that he hadn’t started on the paper he was supposed to do yesterday either for his music theory class.

“Awe no,” Hoseok moaned grabbing Yoongi’s shoulders, “it’s all of us or none of us!”

Yoongi huffed and pushed his arms off of him, “then I guess it’s none of us. I have a shit ton of homework to do and you people distract me.”

Namjoon crossed his bag over his chest and squinted at him.

“But hyung,” Namjoon began, “you’re the one who asked to meet in the first place.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s really not that hard,” you said as you spread your perfect color coded notes all over the table that you and Yoongi were working on.

Then your computer

And your pens that were sorted by thickness and color.

And your textbooks.

When you were done, Yoongi only had about a quarter of the space you had. 

Given, he just had his laptop and a single notebook-

No pen though.

It was still rude how you had taken the entirety of the space available for BOTH of you.

“It’s rooted in the way that humans tend to identify with colors and pictures. We can’t help but to interpret art in a way that speaks to us which is why it’s so useful for therapy.”

“I know that,” Yoongi snapped with a roll of his eyes, “I just don’t know if it’s the most useful strategy when it comes to someone who’s never been in therapy before.”

He bit at his thumb in thought.

“Why wouldn’t it be? It would take a lot of pressure off of the psychologist and the patient so they don’t feel cornered into talking about their feelings.”

“Well what if the patient is uncomfortable with their art work? Or they have no interest in drawing or music? How would you go about that?”

Yeah.

Art therapy was great.

Honestly, that’s the branch that Yoongi wanted to study and had chosen the topic for that exact reason.

He just hadn’t expected you to choose it as well.

Now, he was trying-

And failing

-At trying to discredit the practice.

“You have them look or listen instead. Then they can just write what they feel. It’s simple Yoongi.”

He grunted, leaning back against his chair.

“Okay fine. Put that into the powerpoint,” he conceded.

“I will.”

You booted up your computer and he lost himself in the sound of the keys you pressed.

On his screen, he could see the shared PowerPoint and her cursor moving. He’d done maybe two of the slides on it because you were so over the top controlling that he’d given up trying to contribute.

“Hey Yoongi,” you said as you continued to type.

He peeked up at the sound of your voice from behind his screen.

“Can I ask you an uncomfortable question?”

Yoongi’s blood ran cold.

She seemed to take his lack of negation as confirmation.

“How long have you been in love with me?”

How long had he-

Had he-

D:

Wha-what?

Were you kidding?

Yoongi laughed. Obviously it was a joke.

But you stopped typing and looked over at Yoongi.

Your hands were folded on the table next to your notebook.

Your glasses rested on the tip of your nose.

Your bun was messy. Strands of hair framed your face.

The top button of your white shirt was undone.

You weren’t amused.

“Wait,” he leaned forward, slapping his hands on the table and leaning forward, “you’re not serious are you?”

With a single finger, you pushed the black frames up slowly.

Tiredly.

“I am.”

How could someone misread him so badly?

Yoongi took a deep breath.

“Y/N,” deep breath, “I am not in love with you.”

With a soft smile that sent his stomach in a frenzy and a scowl on his face you leaned forward.

“Has anyone ever told you that there is a fine line between love and hate?”

“That’s just a theory,” Yoongi said instantly leaning back. If that’s all you were going off of then you had no basis to your hypothesis.

“A theory grounded on the intensity of emotions and the predictability or lack thereof of human psyche.”

He scoffed.

Not Yoongi’s.

He only held disdain for you.

While he really hadn’t thought that you would notice his clear dislike of you, he was a little confused as to why you would think it would lead to him falling in love with you.

This wasn’t a romcom.

Right?

“Look, Y/N,” he chuckled, “the only feelings I have for you are-“

Stop.

Don’t say it.

“Contempt.”

You raised an eyebrow at that.

A pretty smile-

What? Where did that come from?

A smirk tugged at your lips.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Yoongi couldn’t take it any longer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d had enough.

ENOUGH.

You hadn’t spoken to him ever since your presentation.

And it was a great presentation!

He even spoke and everything!

People were shocked.

He was pretty sure almost everyone in that class thought he was mute.

He had even been extra nice right before so that you won’t give him a bad peer review.

So. *Inhale*

*exhale*

Why in the name of all that is holy did you suddenly decide to not speak to him or even so much as glance at him?

He walked into class that day and had been kind enough to save you a seat.

Out of the pure kindness of his heart mind you.

Kindness that he displayed for no one.

And yet you had bypassed him entirely and sat way in the back without so much as a friendly hand wave.

What a bit-

*tire screech*

In the end, he supposed it didn’t matter.

You’d been a pain in his side since you both started your degrees and it would be much easier to destroy you if you weren’t friendly.

Fine.

Fine.

Okay.

Good.

If it was a war you wanted it was a war you would get.

…

…

...

....but why hadn’t you talked to him?

Had he hurt your feelings?

Maybe he shouldn’t have told you that he hated you.

Well not that he hated you more like he just thought you were beneath him or something like...

He surmised that girls tended not to like when men told them they hated them.

He’d been rude.

But it wasn’t his fault...

After all, isn’t it rude to assume someone is in love with you?

Conceded at the very least.

He knew you were full of yourself, what with your hanging mirror key chain and selfie studded phone case, but that was just too far.

To assume that because someone didn’t like you...

They were in love with you?

You were clearly in the wrong field.

Yoongi must have scoffed out loud because Hoseok, whom had been the first of the Fr-

*gag*

Of the boys to show up, looked up from his pizza menu quizzically.

“What’s on your mind Yoongles?”

“For the millionth time, Hoseok-”

“I doubt it’s been a million times-”

“Please,” he sighed, “don’t call me Yoongles. My name is Yoongi... call me hyung if you want-”

Hoseok made a high pitched noise somewhere in the back of his throat and put a hand over his chest.

“I thought you would never ask!”

He launched himself across the table and wrapped his arms around his neck, his cheek pressed against him.

“Tha’usen’t a’question...”

it was then that two sets of footsteps neared their table near the back and Yoongi felt his cheeks burn.

“Get off me,” he said in a monotone voice, using his palm to push Hoseok’s face off of his.

Joon and Seokjin stood side by side watching the two sitting men with confusion written all over their faces.

“Okay who died,” Jin asked looking at Hoseok’s now down cast expression.

“My Love for Yoongi hyung,” he said melodramatically.

Yoongi rolled his eyes and scooted towards the end of the booth so Joon or Jin could slide in.

It was Jin that sat next to him.

Joon slid into the opposite side only for Hoseok to wrap himself around his strong arms.

“You love me don’t you Namjoonie?”

“Sure,” Namjoon said, patting his friend’s head.

Hoseok shot Yoongi a smug glare as if he was meant to be hurt by his actions but he couldn’t care less.

He shrugged.

Clearly not taking kindly to being ignored, Hoseok cleared his throat

“Keep your balls blue Hyung...”

Namjoon scrunched up his whole face and pulled his arm from Hoseok’s grasp.

“Dude,” he said, “we’re about to eat!”

“Where did that even come from,” Seokjin questioned, looking Yoongi up and down as if the answer was written on him.

“I have no idea,” Yoongi answered with a slightly embarrassed shrug.

“Yoongi hyung’s been muttering about that girl in his class for the last 10 minutes. My guess is he’s frustrated.”

Joon and Jin turned to look at Yoongi who looked at Hoseok disgustedly.

“How many times do I have to say that I DON’T like her?”

The three men blinked at him in confusion.

“When have you ever had to clarify that?” Namjoon asked with his eyes wide.

?

Ha-hadn’t he?

Yoongi realized his mistake.

He’d told you that.

Not the guys.

Well Fuck.

“I just meant that I shouldn’t have to clarify that.” Yoongi said, trying to ignore Seokjin and Hoseok’s excited looks.

“Don’t push my buttons,” he warned just as a waitress approached with a fake smile and tired eyes.

“We won’t,” Jin assured making Yoongi relax slightly.

Then under his breath

“Looks like someone else already is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Y/N,” Yoongi yelled after you as you hurried out of class.

You had a stack of books in your arms and your bag seemed extra heavy.

Your hair was pulled up and out of your face again.

You seemed to be in a hurry.

You didn’t stop. Maybe you hadn’t heard him.

He called out to you again but you seemed to be walking faster.

He sped up.

So did you.

“Y/N!”

But you didn’t slow and then you got lost in the crowd.

Yoongi stood in the middle of the sidewalk totally confused.

With a sigh, he walked back to his car and drove home for the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi grabbed your wrist loosely so that you could pull out of his hold if you wanted.

He didn’t wanna like...

Freak you out or something.

To his surprise, you didn’t pull away.

You stopped walking.

He had a whole speech planned out.

He’d written questions

He had his journal in his hand color coded and everything!

At Namjoon’s suggestion.

So why is it that now that he was looking into your eyes that he froze?

“Yes?” You asked with the most monotone expression he’d ever seen.

He opened and closed his mouth in confusion.

He looked like a fish out of water.

Why was he so thirsty?

He felt like he’d eaten a whole box of saltines.

As he looked at you he realized...

Had you always been this pretty?

He blushed profusely.

He let go of your hand.

He said nothing.

And now HE took off in the opposite direction.

See...

Yoongi wasn’t used to feelings.

As it was he didn’t even like the idea of calling the boys his...

Fr-

Frie-

*clearing throat* FrIEndS.

He’d never really had friends before anyway and he’d been just fine.

Feelings weren’t part of the equation ever.

It was business.

They were in similar classes and that was that.

So why did his hate for you, suddenly not feel so bad?

So heavy?

Why did Yoongi feel like he could fly?

Without thinking, he must have made it to the dorms because the next thing he remembered, he was standing before Seokjin’s door panting and sweating.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see both Joon and Hobi-

Hoseok

-in the room.

They looked at him expectantly.

Like they already knew what he was going to say.

But they couldn’t know.

Though... Namjoon was highly receptive. He had a way of reading Yoongi that he’d never considered and was always ready to listen. He’d always made time for him even when his perfectly made schedule didn’t match Yoongi’s request to meet up.

Hoseok smiles at him from one of the beds. His body was stretched out across Joon’s lap.

There was a little sun sticker on his nose and two stars on his forehead.

Yoongi couldn’t help but smile back.

Hoseok may be annoying but he sure as hell knew how to make Yoongi smile and forget his current situation.

“Yoongi?” Seokjin asked.

“Did you...” with wide surprised eyes, “run here???”

His perfect nose twitched in concern.

“Hey hyung,” Yoongi said with a tiny bow.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” he answered, clearly surprised at Yoongi’s honorific.

He opened the door wider and let the flushed man in.

The room was small.

It felt cramped with all four of them in there.

Especially with Namjoon’s long legs but no one mentioned it.

“Is something wrong hyung,” Namjoon asked with concern on his features.

Ugh. Feelings.

“I Uh- no...”

“You know,” Jin began closing the door and sitting on the bed opposite Joon and Hobi-

Hoseok.

“For a psychology major you really don’t do a great job of analyzing your own feelings.”

...

He had a point.

How was Yoongi supposed to help other people when he couldn’t even help himself emotionally?

He cleared his throat, realizing that they were all looking at him expectantly.

“This is a safe place hyung,” Hoseok said with a smile, sitting up as if this made it more official.

Yoongi has to admit...

his... friends...made him feel safe.

With a deep, pained breath, Yoongi began.

“You guys know that girl I’m always complaining about?”

“Your mortal enemy ™️ ?” Hoseok asked excitedly.

Like a puppy.

A cute puppy.

Yoongi smiled.

“Y/N... yeah... uh she’s been ignoring me lately.”

Seokjin places a hand on his shoulder so he would look at him.

“What did you do?”

Yoongi scoffed

“No-nothing! I didn’t... okay well I did tell her I didn’t really like her but I mean- it’s not like it was news? Isn’t it obvious I don’t like her?”

The room was dead silent.

Yoongi expected his friends-

Hey that was getting easier to think about-

-to instantly say that it was clear as day that he hated your guts.

Instead, all the boys, his friends, avoided his gaze.

“Isn’t it?” He pressed in concern.

“Hyung,” Namjoon began with a pained expression, “if I'm being honest... I always thought you had a crush on her.”

Wait what?

“Yeah,” Hobi joined in as soon as he realized he didn’t have to be the one to break the ice, “you’re always saying how intelligent she is. How you only associate yourself with her. Damn you barely associate yourself with us! The fact you want to speak with her is kind of huge!”

“But... but I- No! That’s only because I need someone to be partners with in class!”

“Then why,” Seokjin cut in, his voice firm, as if he had the winning argument and he knew it, “do you insist on talking to her outside of class all of a sudden?”

Yoongi was ready.

He opened his mouth ready to explain exactly why he wanted to speak with her after class when-

He had nothing.

Not one thing.

There should be no reason for him to want to speak with you outside of class.

He should only be putting up with your smart... cute...-

*bleh*

mouth in class.

He closed his mouth and looked down at his thighs.

“Dude... have you ever considered that maybe... just maybe... you hate her so much because you’re attracted to her?”

Yoongi looked over at Namjoon. His eyes were soft. It was just a question.

Namjoon would have made a good psychologist.

Yoongi thought back to all those times he’d been irrationally angry

Like that time he’d gotten a lower grade than you by one mark.

Or that time you had corrected him in front of the entire class when he had answered a question in class.

Or even recently, worse still, when you began to ignore him.

Under the anger were other feelings.

Pride.

Surprise in like a good way.

Hurt...

“Wait let me get this straight,” Yoongi said as his heart raced.

The boys waited with baited breath.

“You’re telling me that you think I’ve fallen in love with my self professed mortal enemy?”

Hoseok blinked at him then from out of nowhere, he pulled out a sticker sheet and peeled one off.

He aggressively placed what looked like a smiley face on his forehead.

“Gold star for hyung!”

“That’s not a star Hobi,” Namjoon said with a roll of his eyes.

“Well I don’t have any more stars! I only have smiley faces!”

Yoongi groaned, reaching up to pull the sticker off but one pleading look from Hoseok and he retreated.

Hobi smiled.

“ I don’t know if you’re in love per se... I think maybe you have a crush on her? It’s just always felt like behind all your complaining there was-“

“Love,” Hoseok interrupted.

Namjoon glared at him turning to look at him.

He was met with a little tree sticker on his nose.

Namjoon stared at it surprised and effectively shut up.

“Yoongi hyung’s in love,” Hoseok singsonged.

Yoongi felt his cheeks reddened deeply. He held his face in his hands to cover it up but his ears were a five away.

“Look how red he is!” Jin said beside him.

“Oh my God it’s true!” Hoseok said with a gasp.

“Do you really like her Yoongi?” Namjoon asked.

This was what hell was made of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was later that same day that you guys had class together again.

This time, Yoongi knew what he had to do.

When time was called for the class to be dismissed, Yoongi was prepared. He packed everything quickly and ran after you without calling out your name.

This way you couldn’t run.

Was that creepy?

That sounded creepy.

Anyway.

He tapped your shoulder and as if in slow motion you turned.

A pink aura surrounded you.

Your eyes sparkled.

Wow... you’re really pretty.

AND YOU WERE SPEAKING TO HIM.

Focus Min Yoongi!

“Wh-what?”

Smooth Casanova.

“I asked what you wanted.” You answered with a concerned expression.

“Oh... right,” Yoongi said, rolling his shoulders back and taking a deep breath.

“I just wanted to apologize.”

You raised your eyebrows,

Yoongi?

Apologize?

“For what?”

“For... for telling you I dislike you.”

“If I remember correctly, you mentioned contempt.” You said, your arms crossed but you didn’t seem mad. Just curious.

“Right. Well it was wrong of me to say. You are very smart and capable if it wasn’t obvious from our perfect score on the presentation.” He complimented

“Right, yeah, I know,” you said.

Silence.

“Well if that’s it then I have to go.”

Yoongi reached out for you, grabbing your hand with his much bigger one.

A fierce blush blossomed across his cheeks when u didn’t pull away.

It felt nice to hold your hand.

“I... I also wanted to say that...” this was it.

This was the movement everything changed.

Do or die.

Fight or flight!

“Yes?”

You knew.

He could tell in the way you smiled at him.

The way you raised a perfect eyebrow.

You knew.

It had come down to this.

Yoongi thought back to that day when you had first proposed the idea that he might well be in love with you.

And then he wondered…

Had you been ignoring him…

To prove a point?

It was a fact, psychologically, that distance made the heart grow fonder.

It wasn’t just a saying.

It was a genuine way for couples to appreciate what they had.

A common practice suggested by therapist.

Had you...had you just forced him to come to terms with his-

He cleared his throat.

“You... you were right... about um... your-your theory.”

He couldn’t look at you.

Yoongi was never one to show his true feelings.

Did he even have any?

...

But damn it they were bursting for his every pore at that moment.

He felt you take a step closer to him.

His heart stopped.

He looked up at you slightly.

You had a pleasant smile on your face.

You tightened your grip on his hand.

Your face was getting closer.

His blood pumped through his veins at inhuman speeds.

He could smell your summery perfume.

Your lips were inches away.

Yoongi has kissed girls before.

But something about the prospect of kissing you had him feeling like it was his first kiss all over again.

His eyes fluttered closed.

He puckered his lips.

But the kiss never came.

He opened his eyes only to see your face, still very close.

A smile on your mouth.

The mouth he thought should have been on his.

You reached up with your free hand and plucked something from his forehead.

You showed it to him.

The sticker.

Hoseok’s smiley face.

“You had this on your forehead,” you clarified.

He was mortified.

He’d forgotten...

“My friend....”

Friend.

:)

“My friend put it on me earlier and I guess I forgot about it....”

You shrugged, placing the sticker on his cheek instead.

“Cute,” you said before you got on your toes and placed a soft peck on the places you’d set the sticker.

How-

Did you just-

Was that-

You kissed-

“Do you maybe wanna get an ice cream? We can talk more if you’d like?”

Yoongi nodded dumbly, letting you lead the way.

You smiled up at him.

He smiled down at you.

He reached up and touched the sticker with tender fingers.

He’d have to thank Hoseok later.

Yoongi fucking loved stickers.

Masterllist

#request #bta request #bts #suga #bts yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #yoongi crack #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts request #Bts namjoon #bts suga #bts jimin #bts jhope #bts jin #bts jungkook #bts v

[m-y-fandoms]

Rantarou Amami x Ultimate Writer - FLUFF

Request: Hi! Your writing is incredible ^^ I was wondering if you could write Rantaro with an Ultimate Essay Writer s/o, maybe comforting them when they're up late writing? I hope that's okay, and thank you :D

Hey! Sure I can do this! But, I wanna make it just the Ultimate Writer. I’m an english writing major myself IRL, and I have to write essays, non-fiction, emails, resumes, letters, instructional guides, graphic novels, fiction, poetry etc. so they will definitely have essay-writing skills anyway. Ultimate Writer just makes it easier. I hope you don’t mind :) - Admin Kokichi

     "Nnnn!" You gritted your teeth in frustration, "NNNGGHH!" Your arm was stretched to its extent, reaching up with all your might. The shelf above was just out of reach. Your fingertips scraped against the spine of the thick brown book above you, but strain as you might, it wasn’t budging, firm and snug against the others on the shelf. "Gah!" You puffed in anger, clenching your fists. Why did the books you wanted from the basement library always have to be so high up? You needed this particular text as a reference for your next piece. 

     It was going to be a throwaway letter, a confession written to express your feelings then set them free by burning it later. It didn’t matter, really, what you wrote at this point. Anything to get your mind off of all of… this. In this killing game, your writing was the only thing that brought you comfort. You stayed up every night scrawling until your wrist cramped up. Your Monopad had a notes section to type in, but you much rather stick to the traditional ways. The lack of sleep and endless output of creative thought was starting to weigh on you, and now it looked like you weren’t even getting this damn book today, “Man, this blows…” You sighed deeply. "AH!" You jumped, startled when a large, ring-clad hand suddenly appeared in front of your face, bracelets jangling in your ear. Soon, you felt someone's broad chest against your back. The hand grabbed the book you wanted and brought it down. You turned around with your hand on your chest, still a little jumpy. "Oh, phew… Rantarou, it's just you."

      "Yeah,” he chuckled gently, “here ya go Y/N." There stood your crush, the rich playboy with a heart of gold. You felt your cheeks go warm. He was often in the library, and you relished every moment you got to spend glancing over your shoulder at him while we has up to his usual antics of planning traps or researching new ways to interrogate your classmates until someone was spooked into admitting their position as the mastermind. Once in a while, he would read for pleasure, and at first you felt like an asshole for being surprised by that. You judged him too early on, seeing a flawless face and a suave personality and assuming he would be the popular kid archetype you’d seen in many an awful young adult novel. The more you got to know him, the more he revealed himself to be highly intelligent, well-rounded, considerate, empathetic, and extremely attractive.

     "Thanks, Rantarou," you looked down, placing the book under your arm.

     "No problem… it's not everyday I get to do something useful for someone else here," he rubbed the back of his neck, laughing nervously. You laughed too, looking him up and down. 

      “That’s not true!” you countered. “You’re always helping us all out. You give great advice, too!”

      “Well, I try to help, but I’m sure it hasn’t escaped everyone’s notice that none of my plans have really... taken off,” he gestured, moving his hand in a soaring-upward motion. “Also, with me not rememberin’ my talent and all… I kinda have become the expendable background character, yeah?” His eyes crinkled closed with a kind smile.

      He laughed again to fill the silence of the dark, empty library. You giggled. You always thought it was cute how could be so humble, looking the way he did, sounding the way he did. He had been that way ever since you’d met him, and are far as you were concerned, it seemed genuine. You couldn’t really trust anyone in this killing game, but you trusted Rantarou. Even in the library past midnight, where no one would know if you ended up dead, you trusted Rantarou.

      "Sorry, I uh, I didn't mean to scare you," he leaned against the bookcase, arms crossed.

      "Nah, it's fine. You helped me out, so I forgive you..." You joked, playfully punching his shoulder. He smiled a bit sheepishly, an expression you didn’t see often in the confident male.

      "Yeah I… haha," He fiddled with a book nearby," I didn't think anyone would be here. I always come at night. Surprisingly, it's pretty boomin’ here during the day, so I come later on to avoid the hassle of a crowded space." You understood completely. Rantarou was always secretive about his plans.

      “I know, I see you here sometimes,” you mused.

      “Oh, really? I usually sit behind the back shelves, so I guess i didn’t notice you. You’re pretty quiet, huh? Maybe I should be watchin’ my back for you, huh?” He snickered

      "I was having the same thought, isn't that weird?" He looked at you with alarm. “I’m kidding!” To that, he relaxed a bit. "So, watcha reading?"

      "Oh, um," He gestured behind him to the aforementioned back shelf "I’m set up back there reading. It's just some old, boring, textbook information on one of the small countries I’ve visited. I thought it'd be interesting, but..."

      "Yeah, sounds like it," You looked at him with genuine interest, and he smiled in appreciation.

      "Wait, really?!"

      "Yeah, why wouldn't it be? I think it’s super cool that you’re well-traveled. I guess that’s why you and Korekiyo get along so well, huh?" His feet shuffled in silent excitement at your shared enthusiasm. He bit his lip playfully, and your eyes grew shiny in admiration. He was so adorable.

      He noticed your change in expression and coughed, frowning a little in embarrassment. You tried to change the subject, to make him comfortable again.

      "H-hey, Rantarou?"

      "Hmm?" He looked up from the ground eagerly.

      "You're gonna be up reading all night, right? Well.. I will be, too, and... it’s harder for someone to kill us with four eyes on the lookout..."

      "Yeah?"

      "So, you wanna maybe sit with me here at my table? The vents reach this side of the library better so it’s a bit warmer... haha, it's... it's kinda cold in here," You pulled your uniform’s turtleneck tighter around yourself, shaking a little. Rantarou immediately accepted. He wasn’t about to pass up an invitation from his crush.

     “Hell yeah, sounds great! I’ll go grab my stuff, but, hey, I’ve noticed I hardly ever see you in the dorms… you know you gotta sleep, right?” He had a concerned look on his face, and your heart of course fluttered at his attention to detail and knowledge of your habits, but you didn’t want him worrying about you when he had his own safety to look out for.

      “Well, I appreciate the concern, but I’d much rather spend time with you than be in my dorm alone worrying.” He seemed to blush at your words, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far, until he agreed, and rushed over to grab his reading material.

~

      You sighed deeply, a yawn slipping out once or twice. At least two hours had passed since you and Rantarou set up your little corner and there he still sat, in the wooden chair across from yours, never looking up at you from his book. A peaceful, relaxed look glazed his face. He had been that way almost the whole time, but you could sense him becoming a bit antsy. Maybe he was just tired?

      You were both fast readers, so by now you had already read the best sections of your own books and switched. He now sat reading the yellowed pages of the book you selected: an eclectic compilation of 16th century romance literature, and you were now five chapters into his text on the different ethnic groups of some far-off land.

      “Hmm… heh,” he shook his head amusedly.

      “What?” Your head shot up anxiously, fearing he was judging your choice of genre.

       “It’s just... some of this is extremely cheesy and cliche. You’d think the old masters would have done a little better.” He lifted the book in a referencing gesture.

      “Ah, yes, I noticed that as well. I was hoping for a little inspiration, but… it seems Monokuma isn’t the best curator of quality literature.” He nodded in agreement, seemingly stuck on a thought. You could see him stare into space for a second before continuing.

      “Inspiration for what… may I ask?” He pressed, waiting with bated breath for your reply. You felt your feathers start to ruffle, the borders of your comfort zone being invaded by the enemy. You didn’t know if you should answer honestly. The letter was a throwaway for a reason…

      “I was going to write a letter…” it slipped out, and you quickly regretted it. Apparently, your brain had decided to take the lead for you. You never recalled yourself being so forward or brave.

      “Why do you need sonnets and romance novels to write a letter? Planning to sweet talk Monokuma into freeing us?” He chuckled somewhat teasingly, but his haughty words slowly faded to silence upon noticing the wet shine in your nervous eyes, the way your fingers played with the corner of the book as a distraction for your discomfort.

      “No…” You coughed, clearing your throat. Rantarou looked away, running a hand through his green shaggy locks. He knew what the letter was for, of course, who it was for. He was a bit nervous, too, eager to play off the tension in the room with humor, but it wasn’t working. He was wondering why you were so apprehensive, so sullen at his inquiry. You two flirted almost every day… did you seriously need to worry about his reaction? Did you think he didn’t like you back? “I-It’s… well it was going to be a um… a confession of sorts… just to get my feelings down on paper and off my chest. Then I was gonna burn it afterward to set those feelings free!” You smiled weakly, betraying your lack of confidence.

      “Nah, you should give it to him- them!” He corrected himself, dropping the most obvious hint he could. You still didn’t look convinced, a bit oblivious.

      “Y-you think so?”

      “For sure, no doubt. Whoever that letter is meant for,” he leaned in to you, clasping his calloused hands around yours. You felt your heart skip a beat at the contact, and you were left speechless, fearing any words spoken now would come out as idiotic babbling, “they are gonna love it. Trust me.” His eyebrows rose with emphasis, and he shot you one of his iconic, heart-melting smiles.

#rantarou amami #rantaro x reader #gender neutral reader #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 boys #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #fluff #y/n #request #super danganronpa 2 #danganronpa killing harmony #Trigger happy havoc #imagine #scenarios #ndrv3 killing harmony #female reader #male reader #s/o #oneshot #confession #sfw #sdr2 goodbye despair #admin kokichi #headcanon #crush #gender neutral pronouns #rantaro

[secretshinigami]

routine and soft eyes

Author: @hazblogs For: @beyondplusultra Pairings/Characters: nearmellomatt, mention of lawlight Rating/Warnings: T, mentions of Mello’s scar  Prompt: Wammy House kids sleepover (A, B, L can be included, can be AU) Author’s notes: I had so much fun with this !!! soft bois…. thank you to anyone who reads it !!

Mello is positively fuming. Someone (who shall not be named, though if you want to know it starts with “N” and ends with “-ate River”) just got on top of Forensic Science and Investigative Skills and History of Crime and the Justice System. Those are Mello’s topics. They’re the best at these and they always have been (in the two years they’ve studied here. But that’s long enough, right ?), so the fact that Mister Nobody just came in and stole their turf… That’s infuriating. To top it all off, the dean did them dirty and assigned someone to the second bed in their room, knowing full well that they need that second bed for Matt. This week is just a pile of flaming shit.

As they swing the door open they are greeted by the beeping sounds usually coming from Matt’s bed, a comforting electronic melody. Matt doesn’t even turn around to raise his middle finger to protest against how loud Mello is, but that’s also common practice around here, so no worries. 

“Heard you got your ass beat,” Matt says a while later, Mello’s hand carding through his strawberry-green hair. “By the newbie no less. How’re you taking it ?”

“Matt, my hand is dangerously close to your eyes and you need those to play on that stupid console. Better not risk it.”

“Like you’d ever hurt me,” Matt grumbles, and the certainty with which he speaks makes their heart pulse just a little faster. Mello is hopelessly in love, aren’t they ?

The rest of the evening is quiet save for that same musical background, a welcome white noise as Mello finishes their essay for Writing Comedy. The teacher seems to have some trouble with their rather macabre humour so they try to tone it down for once - rather unsuccessfully.

“Also heard you’ll have a roommate,” Matt continues a few hours later as they prepare for bed - gotta put some moisturiser on that scar like a damsel doing her skincare routine, the doctor said, “or you’ll experience how actually painful it can be”. Talk about being threatening…

“I heard. I can kick them out.” Mello would do it. Without remorse, even.

“I can sleep in your bed too,” Matt offers. “But only if you promise not to kick me out from under the covers every single night.”

“Okay, first of all, fuck off, and secondly, why the hell would I want someone else to room with me ? You’re already here. You’ve always been here.”

“And I always will be, Mels. Just… I think it’s time you get out of your shell a little bit, you know ? You can’t keep pretending that talking to me twice every day and ignoring Linda a couple times a week is enough friendly interaction for the little pea inside your coconut.” Mello turns away from the mirror, moisturiser in hand, and sends a glare to Matt who sighs and raises his hands in defeat. “Don’t say I didn’t try ! Think about it, okay, Mello ?”

They do think about it. The whole night. They don’t sleep - it’s not because Matt snores but that’s the excuse they’ll use. Ever since the accident and the scar, people have usually been too impressed - or scared - by them to even consider starting a casual conversation. Matt was there even before, and he probably always will be, Linda is a weirdo who wants to draw them with a ponytail, and… Well, that’s it. Mello lives for schoolwork, to be the best and hope to right some of the wrongs in this world.

“Yo, Mihael,” the dean says when he sees them in front of his office the following morning. Lawliet is a TA at their university, still haunting the dorms. He has a creepy smile under his stupid raccoon eyes and he keeps using Mello’s birthname, like it makes any more sense to call them with that than to call them “xXx_sexy_blondie_xXx”, or however you pronounce that out loud.

“Lawliet. I saw you assigned me a roommate.”

“I did,” he smiles still, like there’s a joke Mello doesn’t get.

“Why ?” Mello would actually like to know - Lawliet never does anything at random.

“You’ll see when he arrives later today,” is the cryptic answer, and Mello sneers at their stupid fucking dean as they leave for their 8am lecture.

Because yes, multiple things are out to get their skin - though they won’t be deterred.

The day goes by in a flash, Screenwriting and Poetry being two of their most interesting classes, and by the time they’ve finished their Crime Prevision and Prevention homework at the library, the sun is well on its way down. Mello walks slowly to the dorms, enjoying the warm air - it’s still only September and winter hasn’t come yet. The music blasting from their headphones is a perfect background to the chill atmosphere, a few bird silhouettes dark against the wonderfully peach clouds. In a few minutes they’ll kiss Matt and they’ll eat a bite, and they’ll sleep knowing they’re safe now.

When they arrive in front of their room, a few cardboard boxes occupy the entrance. Shit fuck hell, they’d forgotten the roommate arrived today. All they can see from where they’re blocked from entering is a white blob of hair on top of baggy clothes, perched on the desk and looking at whatever Matt is playing.

“Uh, I’m supposed to be able to enter my own room,” Mello kind of yells. Only kind of. “Would you please not be a giant stupid bother before I even get your name ?”

“Sorry,” the snowball says, not looking sorry at all. “I’m Nate River.”

“But you can call him Near ! He plays retro games, which isn’t… let’s say it’s not my strong point, but I’m sure it’ll go well, we’re three whole weirdos with weirdo nicknames !”

Mello blinks. Near is still here. They blink again. Near is still here, looking a little like a frog with his lopsided smile, a hand playing with one of his curls. Mello blinks a third time and doesn’t expect Near to have packed his things and go, but that was a close call.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” they mutter. “Lawliet is gonna get killed.”

“You actually know enough about criminology to not be caught, so go you.” Near is smirking. Mello wants to cry. “But I would advise against it, because he’s dating that twink Light Yagami, the alumni who came last week to give the presentation about the War on Drugs and its consequences. He’s a police lieutenant now.”

“Called it !” Matt raises a fist in victory, taking five years from Mello’s lifespan. “Anyway, now that you’re here, please do help us with the last boxes. We’ve been setting up Near’s compy and it’s revoltingly difficult.”

“I will not- how can you ask me to- I’m gonna commit arson and this time I promise I’ll succeed !”

“Dramatic bitch,” Matt says jovially. “Just come in and drop your stuff, apparently someone from the ADA thing comes tomorrow to make sure the room is accessible with a crutch and to help Near settle in.”

Mello just now notices that Near isn’t fully standing up - he’s propped on the desk, a mechanical knee peeking through the bottom of his shorts. This changes nothing - though Mello feels the both grim and hopeful sense of community that disabled people get when they meet. Their ear still works wonky and their eye ? Not the sharpest either. Without talking about all the skin damage, the phantom pain, the- hell no, they won’t get into “reflective mode” without having eaten dinner first.

Reluctantly, Mello spends the rest of the evening avoiding Near as Matt and them help him settle in, surprised by the small amount of belongings he actually has - most of the boxes he brought are board games and hundreds of little kapla sticks. Is Near planning to recreate the Golden Bridge ? He looks like a nerd, maybe it’ll be the Death Star.

Routines are a persistent thing, and before they know it, Near has managed to get a small space - small, they insist - in Mello’s well-oiled machinery. He eats breakfast with Matt, a meal that Mello forgoes entirely, and he goes on unfortunate walks to his PT appointments, because he’s out of money from whatever government organism gives benefits to disabled people and can’t afford a cab. Mello thinks they should get into it a little more, maybe call their case worker, because ramen tastes worse and worse when you have it for every meal of the week. And then Near and Matt start talking about something or another, especially topics that annoy Mello, or Near gets a little too close to them while they both work on their assignments at their desk, his elbow barely brushing Mello’s side. It makes them shiver, but they will ignore that, thank you very much.

Another routine - bedtime - has gotten a little different. One single bed is enough for “one person and a half”, according to Matt, so the obvious solution to them being three in a two single beds room is to push the beds together.

“And now you have a perfect three people beddery !” Matt triumphantly declared. “Mello, you sleep in the middle.”

“Why am I in the middle ?” they protested. “It’s the least comfortable !”

“Oh well, we can take turns,” Near had snarked, knowing full well that the first one of them to sleep in the middle would have to accept defeat.

Mello does end up in the middle, Matt cuddled against their left side where the burn is, and Near an ever-closer presence against their right arm. It’s not as uncomfortable as they expected. Near doesn’t snore and he smells like minty toothpaste, a strangely comforting scent that lulls Mello to sleep way more easily than the five thousand melatonin pills they take before going to bed.

Oh well, maybe Lawliet can live a little longer. His boyfriend - Matt saw them kissing through the peephole, it’s official now - won’t have any (more) reasons to put Mello behind bars.

Near gets on top of International Law and keeps wearing strangely baggy clothes everywhere - or well, everywhere but in the dorms. Mello has time to get used to that mechanical knee, even asking a few questions about phantom pains on the days Matt is away and the itching gets unmanageable. Near is quiet like snow but they’re nothing alike in warmth, grey eyes like molten metal setting on Mello’s face and crinkling in a smile.

And it works wonders. One time they get a bad mark (for their standards) and they even study with Near for extra credit, a presentation about the death penalty that lasts about three quarters of the two hours class. The teacher gives them both full marks and Matt celebrates by crushing them both against his chest, the smell of motor oil and mint so comforting that Mello closes his eyes, just for a little while.

It’s winter before they have time to think about it, and finals go by in a blur of “no sleep, no food, no distractions”. They even manage to end up at the nurse’s office when they faint during the Criminology Theory exam, forced to drink sugar water until the world stops exploding in a million tiny stars when they move their head.

Mello thinks that surviving their last winter exam session ever - they should be able to find a job with a double Master’s degree in Criminology and Creative writing, right ? - deserves a celebratory nap and they sprawl on the bed as soon as they’re back from the last stupid oral presentation they have to do about stupid Foundations of Criminal Justice. Near is not in the room - which is weird, because he finished five minutes and thirty six seconds before them - and Matt is away for the day to try and get his internship at the garage, so they have the full three-person bed, and they fully intend to enjoy the luxury.

They enjoy it so much that they fall asleep, only noticing that time has passed because before they blinked, it was day, and it is now very much nighttime. Light giggles fill the room along with the muted light from Near’s bedside lamp, and Mello takes the time to relish in the quiet atmosphere. Hushed conversation rises from near the desk, giggles and the smell of hot chocolate both making Mello sit up at last.

“Lookit you ! Sleeping beauty arises. Though I haven’t kissed you yet,” Matt smiles, and he climbs on the bed to press his lips against Mello’s. “Love you,” he whispers as he pulls away and goes back to slump on Near’s shoulder.

At first, Near felt like an intruder each time Matt kissed them, but he’s become so embedded in their life that Mello doesn’t feel any awkwardness anymore - to the point where not including him has become the cause of their inner turmoil.

Because yeah, uh, there’s that. Near in a tank top and booty shorts, prosthetic being painted on by a very enthusiastic Matt, has become the new image they conjure up each time the need to strangle someone arises. And poof, instant peace. Discreet touches, Near sleeping fully cuddled against their right side now, Matt nosing through Near’s hair just after he’s washed it because his strawberry shampoo smells divine, Mello even going as far as ruffling Near’s hair without warning, just to see his little nose scrunch up… All that has become routine too, and suddenly the change is too big to go by unmentioned. 

They’ve managed to hold on to their feelings until then but as Matt starts talking again, Near’s smile is a little too tight - though his eyes sparkle, it’s like… something’s missing. 

“Emergency mee-ee-ting,” they yawn, the skin around their left eye crinkling up painfully. Near notices and doesn’t even ask before grabbing the petroleum jelly tube and throwing it rather inaccurately at their face. See, that’s what they were talking about, Near has just become… there, in the way Matt is there even when he’s asleep in another part of the universe where Mello can only hope to ever go to. “We gotta talk shit out.”

“Are you over your gay crisis yet ?” Matt asks, eyes calm and open, sipping hot chocolate with noisy slurps that Mello doesn’t bother mentioning anymore. His green hair looks more and more red as time passes, which is a strange feat of hair dye conspiracy. “Can we go back to playing ?”

“I haven’t even talked !” Mello protests. “I just really think it’s necessary to mention that…”

They don’t know how to continue that sentence. Near is looking at them with something strangely akin to hope, and Matt still has that infuriating openness about him like he just knows Mello so well he doesn’t need to be told what they feel. 

Near doesn’t, though, and he matters enough to Mello now for them to want to include him in the little bubble as well.

“I just think it’d be cool if we shared the secret chocolate stash with Near,” is what comes out of their mouth.

Well done caporal, please die of shame now.

“Mels, wow, that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said !” Matt’s voice drips with amusement - devoid of any mean spirit, they should add, because Matt is the one thing Mello knows is good in this world. And well, maybe there’s a second one they’ve stumbled on, and they want Near to know that he means a lot to them too.

“I mean it !” Mello whines. “He’s one of us now. I think we can share.”

“Mello. Please realise that I’ve been flirting with you this entire time,” comes Near’s deadpan answer. “The time I told you I wanted to braid your hair ? The time I made you sleep and finished the presentation alone because you’d gotten the flu and I hate being sneezed on ? The fact that Matt literally sits in my lap half the time, and only half because the other is spent on your lap ?”

“Okay, first of all, fuck off with me getting the flu.”

“You’re avoiding my question.” Near looks stubborn, and it’s a good look on him.

When did Mello start to think Near looks good ? “I, uh. I may be slightly romantically obtuse. Has Matt told you the time when-”

“-he kissed you and you thought he wanted to practice smooches for his secret best friend, because of course you wouldn’t be his best friend ?”

Utterly mortified, Mello can feel their cheeks become bright red. “Well, uh. Enough mushiness for tonight. Just pass me the chocolate, Matt, I’m starving.”

Matt giggles and throws a Kinder Egg at their face. Near munches on the leftover shell while Mello assembles the toy, and it’s peaceful - and happy, too, so when Mello raises a hand to their scar they smile still, in spite of their involuntary shiver.

#fanfiction #death note #submission #nearlymellodramattic #nearmattmello #lawlight mention #near #matt #mello #hazblogs #beyondplusultra #Mello's Birthday Mayhem 2020

[third-generation-female-warrior]

Ordinary Date

Ahaha! So I did write something for Valentine’s Day, now that it’s basically over, but it’s still 9:40pm my time, so it counts! So, sequel-ish to The Path we Walk and prequel-ish to Goodbye Winter, with Talbott and Ravenclaw!Alexus, my favorite pairing to write about, it seems. It’s not a fic of the Valentine’s Day Ball sidequest, this is kinda AU-ish on what I think their first date would really be like. First date hymns, poetry, angsty stuff, the world’s smallest canon complaint, preppy-nerds-who-pine, banter, little proof-reading, this did not go remotely the direction I thought it was gonna. Things started out so nice for them. He made her feel like an ordinary girl, if only for a few hours. But she was not meant to last a whole night, it seems. Rated T, 6,000+ words.

-

The soft glow of the street lanterns casted an orange glow onto the otherwise pearly white snow that rested to the sides on the main street of Hogsmeade, dulled grey by the night’s gentle darkness. It wasn’t snowing, but the clouds looming in the sky suggested that fact would change. There was a gentle coldness in the air, not a biting freeze, but it still made the breaths of the passersby illuminate a smoky puff as they walked along the wet cobblestone path. Their breathes would turn orange or yellow as the air would catch the soft light glow of the window shops. The people walking in front of the warm interiors would only have half their face casted in light, the other halves of their bodies turning to near translucent shadows.

Talbott Winger watched people turn into silhouettes, only seeing shadows as they walked from shop to shop.

He stood on the opposite side of the street of the Three Broomsticks entrance, the adults and the students pouring in and out of the establishment, walking hand in hand, or storming out furiously, one girl running out, crying. It must have been a date gone wrong. It was Valentine’s Day, after all.

Talbott’s first Valentine’s day with Alexus Johnson, the girl from his year he gave his heart to on accident and against his better judgement. It was not a deathbed confession, but she was recovering after being tortured by a dark witch when he confessed his mutual attraction.

A lot of their relationship milestones seemed to be an accident. He accidentally let his guard down enough for her to become his friend. She accidentally confessed her feelings first. He accidentally got feelings for her, more than he knew what to do with.

He just didn’t want to accidentally ruin tonight.

He was waiting outside the Three Broomsticks because that’s where they agreed to meet. She was discharged from the Hospital Wing earlier today, and he left while her friends dragged her to the dorm room to “get her ready” even though Alexus herself was wildly protesting.

Talbott was anxious, even if he would never admit it. He would never admit he was anxious or that he consulted his dormate, Andre Egwu to help him pick out an outfit.

Andre was ecstatic, almost insultingly so, to help Talbott dress for such an occasion as a date, and while throwing different clothes from Andre’s own wardrobe onto Talbott’s bed, he admitted to giving the girls tips about what should be Alexus’s outfit for the date.

So, that was how Talbott ended up standing in the cold while wearing some dull tan overcoat over a light grey pullover sweater and that was over a white button-up shirt. Not to mention, blue jeans. Overall, he was kept warm, which Andre must have accounted for. Maybe a little too warm, as the back of his neck was burning. Maybe that had nothing to do with the heat of his clothing layers. He let out a breath, that smoky breath that visibly danced in front of his face before disappearing the next second. He gently placed a hand over his chest, over the feather charm on his necklace. He pressed down, feeling it against his palm, against his skin. He was nervous.

God, who would have known he would be nervous taking out the girl he really liked?

They both agreed to no grandiose plans, as Alexus was still technically in recovery and they both hated grandiose plans. Talbott knew what his ideal date entailed, and he had a decent idea of what Alexus would enjoy for a date.

So why was he so nervous?

“Talbott!” he looked up and his heart stopped.

There she was.

“Alexus,” he said as she walked up, not quite smiling, but he stared at her with something soft in his eyes.

She wasn’t alone, but he saw only her, his vision tunneling as her appearance was stunning. She wore a neck dress that was a deep, royal shade of blue that cinched at the waist and swayed around down her legs with each step, ending just above her knees, the rest of her legs covered by black, opaque tights. White lapels peaked over the collar, and a fitted dark grey cardigan hugged her torso.

Alexus walked in the middle of a trio which consisted of her, Badeea Ali, and Penny Haywood, the three girls linking arms, walking to Talbott like they were moving down the aisle, giving their daughter away for a wedding. Maybe that was a semblance of their motivations, but in reality, he knew they were just making sure she made the walk to him, as they were rather unsure of all the spells that dark witch had used on Alexus just recently, unsure if there would be any lingering effects.

As they reached him, Alexus broke from the girls and slid her hand into Talbott’s waiting one.

“Thank you,” she said to them.

“Have fun!” Penny waved off cheerily.

Talbott nodded his head to them respectfully before they disappeared into the Three Broomsticks. He watched them leave before looking down at Alexus. He brought her hand to his lips for a second. “Are you ready to go?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” she replied, smiling at him.

He returned her smile before leading her away, down the street of Hogsmeade.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I feel you’d prefer to avoid crowded places today,” he started as they walked.

“I’d prefer to avoid crowded places any day, but since the rumors of my dating habits have been picking up, I would prefer to be away from as many other students as possible.”

“As you wish,” Talbott said, winking at her.

Alexus rolled her eyes, still smiling. “Since when do you watch The Princess Bride?” she asked.

“Since you mentioned how good it was in five letters after fourth year,” he chided.

“It was good!” Alexus said defensively.

“Well, you always were a sucker for romance. Who would have known?”

She poked his side. “You have no room to talk, Mr. Read-Poetry-to-the-Girl-in-the-Hospital.”

He stopped walking and looked down at her. “As I recall, you enjoyed being read to.”

She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I never said I didn’t.” She walked further along, dragging him with her a few steps until he started walking on his own, again, taking the lead.

“You’re… impossible,” he said with admiration and burning cheeks.

“You’re paradoxical,” she retaliated as she fell into step with him. Before he could question her adjective, she continued. “Where are we going, anyways?”

He frowned, but let it roll off his shoulders. “You can fly, yes?”

“As gracefully as the day I first transformed.”

“Oh dear, we might be in trouble then.”

He laughed as she nudged his side with her shoulder.

“The Courtyard, Alexus. The Clocktower Courtyard.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You have me escorted all the way to Hogsmeade just to fly back to Hogwarts?”

“Well, eventually. I thought you’d enjoy Honeydukes first. You can tell a lot about a person by the sweets they enjoy.”

He stopped as they reached the front of the shop in question. She didn’t even realize that’s where he had taken her.

She opened her mouth, probably to say something smart back to him, but he was already opening the door for her like a proper gentleman and ushering her inside from the cold.

She gave him a look that was half a smirk and half a challenge and half a battle of wits when they left.

He just winked back and grabbed her hand, walking with her through the shop. There were other students, more crowded than they both would have liked, but also not as busy as a place such as the Three Broomsticks. There were other couples, walking and poking around the shelves.

“So, what is your favorite sweet?” Talbott asked as they made their way through a natural path of the store. He inspected a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Beans.

“Not that. Too much risk,” Alexus replied, scrunching her nose at his selection.

“You break curses in your spare time,” he pointed out, almost laughing.

“Ever since Jacob gave me a wasabi flavored bean when I was four, I’ve been rather weary of them.”

He laughed and kept the package. “Then I’m definitely getting this. I’ll give you the good ones.”

“Oh, you’re such a gentleman,” she said, sarcastically before reaching up. He found it incredibly endearing that her fingers barely brushed the bag of liquorice wands, straining to grasp them before she caught the plastic with her fingers, pulling it forward just a centimeter before pulling it closer until she could slide it off the edge slowly and into her palm.

“You could have asked for assistance or a step ladder you know,” he said, trying not to burst out laughing, but there were tears in his eyes from the strain of holding himself back.

“Sod off, Talbott,” she muttered before looking at her parcel. “These are my favorite.” “Liquorice wands?” he asked, glancing at her hands.

“Ever since I was little. My mum…” she stopped and looked at him cautiously.

He caught her look before turning away, trying to make his demeanor as eased and nonchalant as possible. “Continue,” he assured her.

“My mum always bought these when she went to a wizard market. Jacob and I would pretend to duel.”

Talbott laughed lightly. “See? I told you, you can tell a lot about a person based on the sweets they enjoy.”

She rolled her eyes. “What about you? What’s your favorite?”

Talbott hummed and put the peppermint toads he was holding back onto the shelf. He grabbed her empty hand with his own before leading the way to another aisle. He picked up a displayed cardboard box with a saran wrap window, showing off the gelatinous sweets inside.

“Jelly slugs?” Alexus asked incredulously while Talbott beamed, like he was the creator of the confections.

“They’re right and proper when you have a craving for sweets, Alexus,” Talbott said seriously.

“They’re good, but I didn’t think they’d be your favorite sweet,” she shrugged.

“Oh? What did you think would be my favorite?” he asked, added the box to his collection.

She hummed, thinking before letting go of his hand, disappearing behind a shelf before reimaging, walking up to him and shoving a box of ice mice into his hand.

He stared as she pressed her lips together, eyes lit up with something wicked.

“You know,” she said, voice shaking with restrained giggles. “Because… well, birds of prey tend to enjoy mice.” She laughed as he gave her a pained expression.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him as he put the box back. They looked at other sweets when they were approached by a wiry and young employee with a tray in his hands.

“Chocolate raspberry fudge?” he asked. “Free samples for Valentine’s couples.”

Talbott looked at Alexus before taking two off the tray, thanking the employee.

“Are you fond of raspberry?” she asked.

“Very, when it’s paired with chocolate,” he replied, handing her a small square of the pink and brown treat.

They ate them together as they finished their shopping and walked to the register, Talbott grabbing two bottles of butterbeer on their way. They paid before they left the shop, still talking about the sort of treats they would enjoy in their childhood.

“Muggle candies, have you ever had those?” Alexus asked.

“I can’t say that I have.”

“You’d love them. If I make it to summer, I’ll be sure to buy a bunch to share with you.”

He looked at her. “If?”

She blinked. “Uh, when,” she corrected herself, “I mean, when I come back from the summer.”

He stopped, his grip in her hand making her stop as well. She turned to him, reluctantly meeting his piercing red eyes.

“Do you not think you’re going to make it past the Final Vault?”

“It’s- it’s not that, Talbott. I just… can’t guarantee it,” she looked down and held his hand tighter. “I have to be realistic.”

He sighed and kissed her head. “That is the path you walk?” he asked.

She nodded and pressed her head against his chest.

He wrapped an arm around her. “Then I’ll walk it with you. I promised you that much, Alexus.”

“You’re… paradoxical,” she muttered before pulling away.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

She looked up at him and sighed before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He admired her, that orange glow illuminating half her face, her emerald eyes shining even brighter as the moonlight casted it’s soft mercury glow onto the other half.

He felt a compelling force that almost pushed him down, if only to… well, he wasn’t sure. He felt some great pull towards her, a desire for something but he didn’t know what. He saw that in her eyes, he saw so much in them. That mysterious and compelling force.

She leaned back, taking her hand into his. “Let’s go back. The long way, yeah?”

He nodded and walked with her back down the street of Hogsmeade.

They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to talk, which was not an infrequent occurrence with them. Sometimes, the only thing they needed to say could be expressed with the silence, the energy that they could feel passing between them.

As they got to Hogwarts, it was around dinner time, so not too close to the curfew, but it was close, so Talbott and Alexus knew they had to be careful about avoiding any teachers or other staff members as they walked past the Great Hall.

Eventually, they walked outside and into the Courtyard. They held hands still as they sat at the base of the fountain.

Alexus took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

He smiled before opening the two bottles of butterbeer, setting one down next to her before he took a swig from his own.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Nothing, actually,” she replied, opening her eyes and grabbing her bottle. “Just… the sound of the fountain, and the silence of the night, it’s always relaxing, to me. I missed it, while I was in the Hospital Wing.”

“Yeah? You sneak out here often?” he asked, reaching through his bag, pulling out his box of jelly slugs.

“Not as often as you go to the Owlery for the same reasons,” she replied before taking a long drink from her bottle.

He gave a small chuckle and opened the box. He selected a strawberry and lime flavored slug and bit into it, leaning back before looking at Alexus.

He was startled to see her looking at him, that intense look, where the expression holds the million thoughts running through her head faster than light, every single one causing the most minute shift on her face, but at the same time, all those million thoughts were about one subject. Him.

Her eyes, catching the moonlight again fixated on him, one eyebrow raised, the other pressed down in the lightest furrow, a crease in her forehead because of it. Her lips, pursed together, mostly hidden under the hand that she pressed to her mouth, one corner of her lips only just lifted and visible next to her thumb. Anyone else might have seen a soft neutrality, a few thoughts, a contemplating look. He saw that and so much more.

The way something lit up in her eyes when he looked at her, the flush in her cheeks, a centimeter rise in that one corner of her lips. He did that, by looking at her.

He felt that great pull on him again, like there was something inside his chest, in his instincts that was gripping him, trying to move him forward. He wondered if this was what being under the Imperius Curse was like. Something was trying to control him? No. He’d read personal recounts from survivors, about the effects, and this was not that.

But what was this pull?

Alexus slid her hand over his and reached over him, grabbing one of his jelly slugs for herself. She bit the head off and chewed before laying her head on his shoulder.

He moved his arm to wrap it around her lower back and pulled her closer.

“I hope the lack of eventfulness was okay for our first date,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her crown softly for a second.

“With my daily routine? Lack of eventfulness was the best thing you could have planned. Thank you for making me feel ordinary for the night.”

He chuckled. “Somehow, I don’t think you can be ordinary, Alexus. You are… fantastically remarkable.”

“And you are fantastically corny.”

He laughed, turning away from her to hide his little outburst, which made her laugh.

“Corny, but appreciated,” she assured him, gently putting a hand on his chest reassuringly.

He looked down at her, at the laughing grin on her face, and as she was wiping away a tear from her eye, he leaned down, tilting his head.

He kissed her.

So suddenly, he kissed her, soft lips meeting softer lips, eyes closed, her hands sliding across his arms to wrap around his shoulders, his hands moving to cup her face.

As suddenly as he kissed her, he pulled away, taking a couple deep breathes, watching her, eyes wide, mouth agape with a breathless panting. Her cheeks grew warm rapidly under his hands.

“I-I’m sorry… I don’t… uh… I don’t know what came o-”

She cut him off by leaning up and kissing him this time.

It was hard for him to say how long passed before one of them pulled away again.

When they kissed, he discovered in about five seconds that time became lost. The world was lost. Stars twinkled around in the sky above them, water trickled into the pool behind them. Talbott could swear he felt the ground move beneath them. Until it was all lost. There was nothing around them, there was no world, no stars, no water, no ground.

Just her.

Just him.

Just them together, connected in the purest form of a kiss.

When it was over, when they were pulling away from each other, the noise of the world slowly came back. There was that water trickling, soft insects calling in the night. An owl hooted somewhere far away, a wolf howled in the distant forest. Heavy footsteps clacked on the stone floor nearby, and it was coming closer.

Talbott and Alexus looked at each other before at their supplies from Honeydukes.

“Conceal it!” she whispered quickly, whipping out her wand, Talbott following suit. They quickly casted the disillusionment charm over their bags and bottles before pocketing their wands. They nodded to each other before assuming their animagus forms, Talbott as a brown eagle, Alexus was a chihuahuan raven. They flew up, right to the end of the courtyard as some… unknown person walked into the courtyard.

Alexus watched, ready to fly away at the first sign of trouble. Whenever dark-hooded figures with most of their faces obscured walked in her general area, it was never good, and they always seemed to be for her.

Talbott let out of call, a warning one.

Alexus looked at him, where he was perched on a ledge that overlooked the courtyard.

Alexus got ready to fly away, waiting for when the stranger would least likely be bothered by two non-nocturnal birds. She watched as the wizard stalked around the courtyard, poking stone with his wand.

As his back was turned, Alexus called out to Talbott, and they both spread their wings to take off. This was something they had to report, and fast.

They flew up, Alexus aiming for the sky to disappear into when there was a terrible, fiery pain in her right wing. She cried out, the vocalization coming out as a pained caw.

The wind was rushing through her feathers from her rapid descent.

She landed on her side, curling her arm into herself, black feathers swaying onto the ground around her.

“Alexus Johnson, small raven. Right there in the registry where any one can read it,” the wizard said, making his way over to her.

Alexus groaned, slowly sitting up, her wand in her grip, but she couldn’t lift her arm, it hurt too much to bend it. Her cardigan and shirt sleeves had already been burned or blasted off.

“It’s a chihuahuan raven, actually,” she corrected the wizard as he pointed it wand at her. “The base of the neck has a white coloration, native more to the Mexico and western United States area.”

The wizard didn’t say anything as he stood over Alexus.

Alexus smiled and set her wand down. “I’m not coming quietly. In fact, I’m not coming with you at all,” she assured him as she slowly rose to her feet, eyes trained on his wand.

“You know what ‘R’ wants, so you might as well make it easy now. Before we make you abide by our ideals.”

Alexus laughed lightly. “No.”

There was a screech and Talbott descended, talons extended, right towards the dark wizard’s face.

While he was distracted, Alexus stooped down to grab her wand with her left arm.

“Get away!” she shouted to Talbott.

He flew off, and Alexus sent a powerful blasting spell at the dark wizard, sending him flying back across the courtyard, landing in the fountain.

Talbott landed next to Alexus, turning back into human as he did. He pulled out his wand and kept it trained on the wizard.

“Do we run?” he asked.

“No, he’ll slip away.” Alexus walked to the wizard, ready to attack if he moved. “You go get a teacher, Dumbledore, Filch, anyone. We can’t let him get back to ‘R’ when he knows.”

Talbott didn’t want to leave Alexus alone, but he knew she could handle the wizard better than he could. But he still hesitated, looking at her.

“Talbott, go!” she insisted as the dark wizard started to stir.

She wanted to watch him leave as he ran into the castle, but she was too terrified to take her eyes off of the dark wizard.

“So… ‘R’ must be getting more desperate, if they’re just sending any idiot to try and retrieve me,” she commented as the wizard slowly sat up from the water.

“What can we say? Your work with the Vaults continues to be impressive.”

“I believe I have given you my answer already. Incarcerous!” Ropes sprang from the tip of her wand and coiled tightly around the torso of the dark wizard, binding his arms to his sides.

She walked over and grabbed his discarded wand, kicking it further across the courtyard.

“You gave us the wrong answer,” the wizard said, nonchalantly.

“Ferula,” Alexus muttered, pointing her wand at her burn. Bandages delicately wrapped around the injury. She’d find Chiara for a more permanent solution.

“It is cute that you think ‘R’ is giving you a choice.”

“Stupif-!”

“PROTEGO!” Alexus shouted, twirling on her heel, slashing her wand up, throwing up a quick shield to counter the second assailant’s attempt to stun her as they came up from behind. The force of her opponent’s spell on her shield made her slide back a few inches.

“You didn’t think I’d come alone to collect such a… volatile target?” the man asked, inching his way out of the fountain as Alexus faced the new dark wizard.

“I was certainly hoping, but I guess no one wants to be alone today,” she muttered, planting her foot behind her. “Expelliarmus!”

The wizard dodged and sent his own spell back to her, causing her to jump to the side.

“Locomotor Mortis!”

Alexus tripped as her legs were bound together. She swore under her breath and gripped her wand as the wizard advanced upon her.

“Flipendo Maxima!” she shouted, trying to buy herself more time, but he blocked that too.

“Stupify!”

All Alexus saw was red sparks and then stars. Lights and shadows swimming in the darkness of her vision. She groaned and turned on her side, towards the fountain. Vision was slowly coming back to her, her surroundings blurred.

Semi-conscious…. Semi-conscious was better than unconscious, which could have been the outcome with the stunning spell.

She saw the two dark wizards at the fountain as blurred figures, coming in and out of focus. “She really got you, didn’t she?” the second assailant asked as he undid the ropes on his companion.

“She had a bird friend, another animagus. Little bastard got my face, went to get help.”

She looked at her hand, extended, laying on the ground.

Her wand…

She had a wand.

“We better get out of here quickly.”

She moved her fingers, brushing along the stone. It must have been knocked out of her grip. Then, she felt it. That familiar wood, the warmth in her fingertips as she found her wand. She gripped it firmly and looked back at the two. The second one was helping the first wizard up out of the fountain. She pointed her wand at the ground by them. “Bombarda!”

The second wizard jumped back as there was a small explosion at his feet, the first wizard falling back into the fountain.

She sat up as the second dark wizard whirled around to face her.

“Everte Statum!”

“Lacarnum Inflamari!”

His robes caught on fire as she was sent rolling back across the courtyard, stopping when her body collided with the far wall, a sharp pain in her torso where the spell hit her.

“PUT IT OUT!” the wizard shouted, stomping on his dark cloak rapidly.

“My wand!” the other one shouted, jumping out of the fountain and looking at the dark ground.

If Alexus wasn’t reeling, she’d be laughing, but as the pain was subsiding, she slowly climbed to her feet as the wizard just shrugged off his robe, revealing his face.

He was a gruff-looking figure, with patchy black and white facial hair on his jaw, his head shaved, a massive scar on his scalp. His dark eyes pierced Alexus as he raised his wand.

Where was Talbott? Should it have taken him this long to get help? Was he on his way with Dumbledore and all she had to do was stall?

“I told your friend, I wasn’t going to come quietly,” she said, raising her wand as well

“And I told your friend, I’m willing to take you in bloody if that’s what it takes.” He shot a spell at her, and she jumped to the side before firing her own at him.

“What did you do to him?” she asked, trying to keep her voice bold and even.

“Just gave him a full-body bind so he wouldn’t have to get any pesky teachers involved. Someone will find him, but you’ll be gone by then.”

Alexus set her jaw. Talbott would be terrified. She couldn’t let him be any more scared than he already was with her in her danger. But more importantly, they got to Talbott. They hurt him. She couldn’t let that slide either.

If Talbott was in that courtyard in that second, only he would have seen the darkness in her eyes, like a thunderstorm overtaking clear, green, rolling fields. A brewing and dangerous storm that made it seem like the sky was about to explode, Heaven’s fury being unleashed like Hell’s wrath.

Alexus focused her wand on the men in front of her as the wizard finally found his wand and joined his partner.

The air became still for a second as the intensity of the silent rage culminated in her chest.

“Incendio!” she shouted, waving her wand in arch before herself, sending a wall of flames to the men in front of her.

They only had time to wave the flames away in one swoop before she thrusted her wand forward, at their feet.

“Confringo!”

The bald wizard threw his arms in front of his face while his friend jumped back as shards of stone flew up in all directions from their feet.

She sent furious spell after furious spell, making them dodge and jump out of the way to avoid serious injury. Now that there was no backup, she had to win.

“Expelliarmus!” she disarmed the bald wizard, his wand flying behind him.

He looked at the discarded wand behind him before back at her. “Who knew you had such a weakness, Miss Johnson? Don’t worry, weaknesses aren’t allowed in ‘R’ so that will be fixed soon enough.”

She froze, only for a second, but that was enough for the other wizard.

“Diffindo!”

The air stilled again.

Alexus pressed her hand against her stomach, shuddering as she felt something arm and stick saturating her clothes and hand. Gulping, she pulled it away and held it up in front of her face, even if she already knew. In the moonlight, she saw the dark stain on her hands.

Before she could do another thing, before she could even think about healing herself, the first wizard snapped his wand at her.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Eyes widened, mouth slightly agape, wand outstretched, bloody hand near her chest, she became frozen.

The first wizard rushed forward as the second one went to retrieve his wand.

“There we go,” the first one muttered as he moved his wand over her injuries, healing her slowly.

“Don’t need to kill ya, just needed you stunned enough.”

Alexus moved her eyes, watching him as the wound disappeared, like it was never there. He patted her head when he finished. She would have broken his hand if he could move.

“Ready to go?” he called back to the bald wizard as he picked up his wand.

“Take her wand from her first. I’ll bind her, you unfreeze her.”

The first wizard snatched her wand from her hands and took a few steps back.

Alexus watched the bald wizard and he raised his wand at her. “On three.”

“One… Two…”

“THREE!” Alexus looked past them just in time to see the red sparks before the first wizard was sent flying forward, skidding at her feet.

The bald wizard turned around only to be knocked back the same distance, his back colliding onto the wall behind her.

“Excellent knockback, Mr. Winger!” Professor Flitwick complimented, pocketing his wand after knocking the second assailant.

Alexus had never been more relieved to see her head of house and the Headmaster before, but it was Talbott’s presence who reassured her the most. He was okay.

He gave no acknowledgement, instead, running over to Alexus.

He cupped her face lightly and looked down at her. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?” he asked.

She wanted desperately to collapse into his arms. For him to hold her as she felt her legs could no longer support her. But she couldn’t. She could just control her eyes and even then, she couldn’t stop the heavy streams of tears that spilled, cascading down her cheeks, catching on his hands.

“Mr. Winger, I believe she is petrified at the moment,” Professor Dumbledore stepped forward. “Allow me.”

With a wave of his wand, Alexus stumbled forward, right into Talbott’s waiting arms.

She closed her eyes and stifled a sob in his chest, wrapping her arms around his torso and hiding her face into his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, softly, cupping the back of her head with his hand, holding her close to him.

“Miss Johnson, are you hurt?” Professor Dumbledore asked.

Alexus pulled away and took a breath, quickly collecting herself. “My arm, it got burned.” She extended it to show the bandages she had placed on her arm.

“I see. Mr. Winger, will you please escort Miss Johnson to the Hospital Wing to be treated while we take care of the mess here?” Dumbledore requested.

“Yes, Professor. We’ll go straight away.”

Talbott gently placed his hand on her back and they began walking, but hadn’t taken more than two steps when Professor Flitwick cleared his throat.

“Miss Johnson?” he called, prompting them to look back.

“Yes, Professor?” she asked hesitantly.

“Your wand, don’t forget it please!” he held up her wand, which he retrieved from the first wizard.

“Oh! Right, thank you, professor,” she said while walking over. She took it and nodded in thanks before walking back to Talbott. They finally left the courtyard, silently.

He kept his hand on her back, reluctant to not feel her with him, but she didn’t mind. She stayed close to him as they walked.

When they went into the Hospital Wing, it was filled with mostly petrified students. But there was also Chiara Lobosca, attending to a girl who looked sickly with a very runny nose.

“Just take this potion before bed and your cold will go away by the end of the night. Be mindful of smoke in the ears,” the Hufflepuff was advising the girl as they approached.

“Chiara,” Alexus said, softly.

She turned around, a pleasant expression on her face, but when she saw Alexus, the bandages, the blood, her eyes turned as big as the moon.

“Alexus!” she almost cried, quickly walking in front of her.

“The slice was healed, I’m not bleeding anymore, but I am faint from the loss of blood I did experience, but the most severe injury is my arm, it’s burnt under the bandages I applied. I was in a duel. Don’t tell the Circle yet.”

Chiara blinked, processing, before nodding and she quickly guided Alexus to an empty bed.

“Are you okay?” she asked, gently extending Alexus’s arm out and unwrapping the bandages.

“Barely. Talbott got Dumbledore and Flitwick just in time,” Alexus winced at the movement.

“Thank you, Talbott,” Chiara said, looking at him before back at Alexus.

She looked at the burn before back at Talbott. “There are bandages in that cabinet. Can you please get them for me?”

He nodded and walked over to the cabinet while Chiara gently traced her wand on Alexus’s wound.

Alexus flinched and wanted to yank her arm away, but the skin slowly started to mend.

She bit her lip and turned her head away from the healer and tried to suppress any cry or outburst.

“There we go, you did good,” Chiara assured her before pocketing her wand again.

Talbott came back with the bandages.

Chiara took them and began dressing the wound, slowly wrapping the bandages loosely over the area.

“It will take a few days to heal fully, but there shouldn’t be any scarring as long as you leave it alone.”

“Thank you, Chiara,” Alexus said. She gently moved her arm back and looked at the bandages.

“Remember, if you want to talk about it, I’ll always listen,” she reminded.

Alexus looked at Chiara, incredibly touched. “You’re too kind,” she said, smiling softly. “I’m good for now. I think now is a good time to call in the night.”

“Goodnight, then, you two. Hope your next date is safer!”

Talbott walked into a hospital bed and slammed his leg into the railing while Alexus nearly fell off her bed.

“Who told you?” they both asked, almost shouting, making the healer jump back.

“Penny! Penny told me before she went to help you get ready!” she quickly said.

Alexus groaned and buried her face into her hands. “Hasn’t she ever heard of stylist-client confidentiality?” she cried.

“Oh no,” Talbott muttered under his breath, remembering Andre.

“Well, you two better get going! Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help!” Chiara quickly and pleasantly excused herself before walking to another student across the Wing from them.

Talbott looked at Alexus, resigned.

Without a word between them, they both walked out of the Hospital Wing.

The second they closed the doors behind them, they looked at each other.

Alexus gave him a weak smile. “Thank you. You… definitely saved my life.”

“I’m sorry that your cardigan got ruined.”

Alexus snorted and looked at the burnt off sleeve that now ended at her bicep. “I can remedy it… I think.”

Now he snorted. He looked down the hall and sighed. “Let’s head to the Common Room, before Snape or someone deducts house points for being attacked after hours.”

She laughed and grabbed his arm gently before leading the way.

“Hopefully, our sweets are still there by the morning, we can get them then,” Talbott said.

“They were still invisible by the time we left, so they might be,” Alexus agreed hopefully.

“I’m sorry this… didn’t end up how I wanted it to,” he looked down at her.

“You don’t have to apologize, Talbott,” she assured him. “It was magical. I had a really great time.”

“I’m glad.” He glanced at her and took a breath. “The… kissing… was that okay? I should have asked, and-”

“I wouldn’t have kissed you back if it wasn’t,” she assured him. “You don’t have to worry, you gave me an amazing night. I was ordinary for a couple hours. That’s the best thing you could give me.”

He gently nudged her side with his arm. “I told you before, you’re incapable of being ordinary. You’re… the most… remarkable girl I’ve met.”

She smiled. “You make me feel remarkable, Talbott. I’m really just doing things that need to be done. And sometimes, doing those things…”

“Lead you down a hard path?” Talbott completed for her.

“Yes. You’re the one I want to walk with me. I know that now. I realized that when I was dueling, oddly enough.” She looked forward.

“Oh?” he said, not pressing her to continue, but he still wanted her to say more.

“It’s… that dark wizard, he told me he petrified you. I… lost it. I was scared. You could have been hurt, I couldn’t just… let them get away with that.”

He looked at her, not sure of what to say. He was stunned, but unharmed. Dumbledore and Flitwick had stumbled upon him in the hall. All he could say was that Alexus was in danger before running off. He was terrified for her. He thought she was going to die and it would have been his fault for not being better. That he could have done more. Just like with his parents.

He just brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently before they continued walking.

The common room was almost empty, students tired from a night of festivities, winding down, talking to one another about their dates and otherwise.

“Hey,” he tugged on her hand before pulling her to a nearby bench, gesturing to sit down. “Before you go up to your dorm, I had… one more thing planned.”

She tilted her head, looking at him quizzically.

He gave a small smile before pulling a small box out of his pocket. He held it out to her.

She took it and gave him a small smile before opening it. Her eyes widened when she saw the contents.

“Talbott,” she said softly before grabbing the silver braided chain and pulling the necklace out.

There was a single charm, a brown eagle feather.

“From my own wing,” he muttered.

She looked at him before kissing his cheek. “I love it,” she whispered before quickly fastening it around her own neck.

“I’m glad,” he said, relieved.

She admired the feather before looking at him apologetically. “I didn’t… get you anything, but… I was thinking… I could maybe… read a poem to you?”

He pulled out a small booklet from his other jacket pocket. “I’ve been waiting all night to open this.”

She snatched it from him. “Reyes’s Handpicked Poems!” she exclaimed.

“I may have already marked a couple,” he said, a little slyly, a self-satisfied smile crossing his face as she eagerly thumbed through the collection. “It’s not as hefty as The Romantic Collection we fight over, but there’s something charming about knowing these are the author’s favorites.”

She stopped on a page and quickly skimmed it. “Found one,” she muttered before leaning against him. He quickly wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head, closing his eyes

Come see me, Eros Where the woodland sings of their secret songs of the evergreen

Come see me, Eros In the break of the trees Where Apollo touches the land where lovers meet

Come see me, Eros In this forestry dream Surrounded by nymphs and Demeter’s love

Come save me, Eros Follow me down Where Hades’ lips kiss away the light

Come save me, Eros From Thanatos’ grip that’s keeping me away from you

Talbott sighed. “That’s a sad one,” he muttered.

“It’s heavily symbolic, which just adds weight,” she agreed.

“Death of the Lover… what a perfect poem to end Valentine’s Day on,” he muttered sarcastically.

She closed the book and looked at him. He waited for her sarcastic rebuttal, but instead, she kissed him.

He was shocked, but he wasn’t going to complain, and instead, placed his hand on her cheek, closing his eyes.

“Oh dammit all to Hell, they’re kissing!”

They pulled away quickly and turned to see Tulip Karasu fuming. Alexus didn’t like the look in her eyes before the mischievous Ravenclaw ran to their dorm room. “BADEEA! TELL TONKS PENNY WON! I’M OUT FIVE SICKLES!”

“Oh… Merlin’s saggy left…” Alexus grumbled before burying her face into her hands while Talbott sighed.

There were better, more romantic notes to end their first Valentine’s date on, but this was not one of them, it seems.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery mc #hogwarts mystery jacob's sibling #jacob's sibling #hphm talbott #hphm talbott winger #talbott winger #jacob's sibling x talbott winger #talbott winger x jacob's sibling #talbott winger x mc #mc x talbott winger #hphm jacob's sibling #acj writes

[nevertherose]

One Hundred Seconds to Midnight: Chapters 1-8

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

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

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

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

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

But I wanted it to exist here as well.

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

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

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

One Hundred Seconds to Midnight

Chapter 1- The Eleventh Hour

“Who are you?”

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

Midnight.

The witching hour.

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

It was nearly midnight on the Imagination’s border.

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

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

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

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

But not tonight.

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

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

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

That was the only reason Roman kept looking back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He liked to think he was handsome.

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

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

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

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

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

Roman had only been planning this for weeks.

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

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

Logan adjusted his glasses.

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

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

“Ah ha, here we are!”

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

The nerd did not disappoint.

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

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

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

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

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

Usually, it was an emotion.

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

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

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

Roman had to bite back an ecstatic giggle.

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

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

…and then some.

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

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

How could he not?

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

But now?

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

And then these last few months had happened.

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

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

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

He knew he needed to be better.

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

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

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

Chapter 2- Human Nature

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman screamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He cleared his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course I am right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan glanced down at himself for the first time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yet somehow my hands just…know.”

Roman leaned casually onto the console.

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

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

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

It had proven useful so far, after all.

Roman shot Logan a fierce grin.

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

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

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

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

Chapter 3- The Witch’s Familiar

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

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

He sighed, and dismissed his drink.

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

Well. It was what he had.

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

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

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

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

“Patton?” Janus whispered.

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

Janus drew in a sharp breath.

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

To learn their arguing styles, of course.

Not because he had any desire to join those discussions.

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

That wasn’t really the issue.

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

That was cruel. That was insulting.

It was too far, even for Remus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should Janus say something?

Would Patton believe him if he did?

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

But Janus, well.

Janus was still a liar.

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

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

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

So.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Patton trailed off.

“Fragmented? Chaotic? Disturbing?” Janus supplied.

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

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

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

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

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

Janus bit back a smile.

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

Patton ducked his head.

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

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

Damn it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And whose TARDIS is this?

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

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

Too dark, too full of shadows.

An awful suspicion rose up in his mind.

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

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

It was a sonic laser.

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

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

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

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

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

Patton’s heavy footsteps clattered behind him.

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

Janus whirled, lips curled in a snarl.

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

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

“Clearly, I am the Master.”

Chapter 4- Nightmare in Silver

“You think he knows what he’s doing?”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.”

Patton rested his arms against the console and sighed.

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

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

Janus stalked past again, grumbling to himself.

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

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

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

Silence.

Patton didn’t know what Janus was expecting.

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

They’d see straight through it.

“It takes a liar to know a liar.”

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

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

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

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

“What are you, a middle school librarian?”

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

The screen burst into static.

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

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

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

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

Patton was trying.

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

Janus wasn’t evil.

He never had been.

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

They all did.

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

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

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

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

He would not make those mistakes again.

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

Patton had to believe that.

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

The screen in Janus’s hands cleared to reveal…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman’s face reappeared, solemn and deeply annoyed.

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

“Very reassuring,” Janus quipped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 5- The Long Game

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

Logan sighed.

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

“Remus,” Roman hissed.

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

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

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

Roman made a sound of disgust deep in his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it was the stress, or the unfamiliar environment.

Or maybe it was the Rose Tyler outfit.

That skirt ought to be illegal.

Logan deliberately focused on the screen, his cheeks warm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan bit back a sigh.

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

#

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

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

“Patton asked for my opinion!”

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

Silence.

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

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

“I didn’t make him take it!”

Deceit sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

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

Logan bit his lip.

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

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

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

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

A strange thought entered Logan’s mind.

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

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

“Well…” Logan trailed off, troubled.

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

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

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

Deceit had laughed then, high pitched and bitter.

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

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

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

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

“Deceit—” Logan started.

“Janus.”

“What?”

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

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

Self-preservation.

“It suits you,” Logan said quietly.

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

“Thank you.”

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

Janus looked at him intently.

“Let me speak to them as you.”

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

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

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

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

Janus snorted.

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

Logan shrugged uncomfortably.

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

Logan pursed his lips.

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

“I didn’t have your blessing.”

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

Logan stared at it, torn.

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

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

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

Those were just the facts.

Janus sighed.

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

He offered his now bare hand to Logan again.

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

“Please,” was all he said.

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

#

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

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

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

As Logic, Logan needed to remember that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The scans pulled up nothing.

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

Janus grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “lucky”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a beat of silence.

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

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

Surely not.

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

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

Remus giggled as Logan exchanged a shocked look with Roman.

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

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

“Roman, what—” Logan started.

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

This he roared at the screen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 6- Asylum of the Daleks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Logan probably could.)

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

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

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

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

Roman folded his arms, stung.

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

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

Logan sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman covered his mouth to keep from snorting.

The snake would not make him laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They turned their forward face to the four again.

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

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

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

“But that was just Daleks!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did Patton even realize what he’d almost done?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman huffed, and looked away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if we refuse?” Roman said evenly.

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

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

The alien Janus shrugged, spreading their hands.

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

“Is that so.”

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

There was a shocked silence…but no retaliation.

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

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

“Roman,” Logan warned quietly, pointing.

Roman looked.

The white Dalek’s shell was…laughing?

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

Each word bit like sandpaper against Roman’s ears.

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

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

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

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

“Why must you make everything difficult?”

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

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

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

“You’re lying,” Roman said tonelessly.

Remus’s whiny voice grew hard.

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

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

“How are you so sure?” Roman frowned.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t call him that,” Roman spat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman slammed the Dalek shell against the floor.

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

Like looking in a funhouse mirror…

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

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

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

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

“They will prevent—” the Janus started.

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

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

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

Patton hesitantly raised a hand.

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

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

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

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

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

Whereas Janus…probably did.

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

Typical Deceit. Protecting his lies.

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

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

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

There was a push, and they were falling.

Chapter 7- Oxygen

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

“Space doors are supposed to go shuk shuk.”

“Are you gonna be like this all day?”

Janus was done.

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

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

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

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

He hoped it was Patton.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say, what do snowmen call their offspring?”

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

“I haven’t the faintest.”

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

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

“‘Do you smell carrots?’”

Janus quickly covered his mouth.

“You smiled,” Patton crooned.

“I most certainly did not.”

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

“Who’s there?” Janus said flatly.

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

“Snow who?”

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

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

“I am not smiling, how dare you.”

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

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

Liar.

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

Too soon.

Liar.

Too much history between them.

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

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

Patton seemed disinclined to continue his little pun war.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They reached the pod.

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

Janus set a hand on the ice-crusted latch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He withdrew his head and studied Patton. Honestly, with his metal body he’d be in far less danger, and those guns in his arms would actually be useful in this situation…but telling Patton he was a walking weapon, now, would definitely not go over well.

“The hatch down into the asylum should be in the cockpit of this thing,” he informed Patton. “There’s a lot of blaster fire, though, so—”

“—don’t get cold feet and hesitate?” Patton finished.

Something in Janus’s heart twisted…something he didn’t dare examine too closely.

“Say, Patton,” he said softly, looking away.

“Yes?”

“What did the hat say to the scarf?”

Patton turned his black Cyberman eyes on Janus.

“What?”

“‘You hang around, and I’ll go a-head’.” Janus let a smirk curl his lips.

Patton was silent for a moment, but then he began to giggle, covering his mouth.

Janus pulled out his sonic laser.

He dropped into the pod with a swing of his legs, catching one of the robots in its metal chest. It fell with a screech, careening into another of its kind, but by then Janus had gained his feet and ducked behind a seat. Patton clattered down behind, with less grace and far more noise…and a random Tivolian tumbled in directly after him.

Patton caught the rodent-faced alien with a startled shout, immediately dropping them again when they screamed and struggled. Janus blinked; where the hell did they come from?

The Tivolian tumbled across the pod’s floor, only making it a few feet before getting cut down with blaster bolts. Janus saw Patton cry out, and caught the Side before he could leap out and draw more hostile fire.

“It’s too late!” he shouted over the noise.

“I should have hung on!” Patton, if he’d had a proper face, would probably be in tears. He hated death. “I don’t know why they were so scared of me!”

Janus could answer that…

“I’m more curious about where they came from,” he said instead, frowning. “They surely weren’t up on the surface with us. It’s like they just teleported in, but Tivolians don’t teleport. They don’t have the technology—”

A blaster bolt exploded across the top of the seat they were hiding behind, showering them in sparks and forcing them both to duck.

“Janus!” Patton snapped. “We need to get out of here!”

“Right.” Janus brandished his sonic. “We’ll just have to run for it.”

He leaped out, activating his weapon, and discovered that a sonic laser had a very satisfying range and kickback. Forget the Doctor’s screwdriver, he thought, blasting a Dalek puppet aside and ducking another gun blast. I wonder if the Imagination will let me keep this…

A cold, dead hand seized the collar of his jacket, yanking him back.

Then there was a yell, a clatter, and Janus turned in time to see Patton blast a puppet with a fire extinguisher. The moral Side chuckled at Janus’s shocked expression.

“I’ve seen this episode too, you know,” he pointed out.

Janus huffed.

The two dodged and fought their way to the cockpit; Janus used his laser to seal the door behind them. For a moment they simply stood there, catching their breath.

(Well, Janus caught his. Did Patton even breathe, in that form?)

“Unauthorized personnel may not enter the cockpit.” Remus’s high-pitched voice came over the speaker system. “Unless it’s an actual pit full of cocks, in which case, where’s my invitation?”

Janus was going to need something a lot stronger than tea, once they finally got out of this mess.

“Remus, for god’s sake,” he grumbled.

“God has nothing to do with my cock, but if that’s how you want to roll…” One of the cockpit screens flickered to life, and there was Remus in all his ruffly, sparkly, mustached glory. Clara’s warm, messy cove spread out behind him, reds and yellows clashing horribly with the green of his sash.

Janus moved so that his chest and shoulders blocked the screen, to prevent Remus from catching sight of Patton. If Remus saw Patton as a Cyberman, Janus would never be able to convince him to keep his mouth shut.

“All right then, where do we find you?” Janus said. “And where did the others land? Not to mention our dear missing ball of anxiety.” He leaned forward, putting on his trademark smirk. “Come on, Re. You must know. One Other to another, you can tell me.”

“Aww, Jan Jan,” Remus crooned, also leaning forward. “You care.”

“I most certainly do not!” Janus sputtered, and cleared his throat. “Patton was worried about Virgil, that’s all.”

“I was?” Patton asked from the other side of the space. “I mean, of course I am, but—”

“But surely you can at least tell us why this scenario isn’t playing out quite like the episode it comes from,” Janus interjected smoothly. He didn’t want Remus to notice the metallic quality of Patton’s voice.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’ve already told you everything that I know.” Remus shrugged. “Roman really did give the Imagination too much freedom.”

Janus frowned.

“Then how do you know the scenario will end when we find you?”

“I actually don’t! Isn’t it great?” Remus crowed, clapping his hands. “I love stories where anything could happen. We could all get vaporized, or have our flesh eaten by—”

“Remus, focus.” Janus pitched the bridge of his nose. “So, given what we know of this particular episode, you’re assuming that our main tasks are to come get you, and to drop the forcefield on the planet so the Daleks can blow it up.”

“That’s the idea, Double Dee!”

Behind him, Janus heard Patton make a weird, choked noise, and grimaced.

“By the way, Roman and Logan are already inside the asylum.” Remus grinned, the whites of his eyes flashing. “So if you want to catch up, you’d better scute those scaly asscheeks along. Check the floor for a breach; that will be your way out. A breach, ha! Like a butth—”

Janus pointed his laser and fired on the screen, cutting the transmission and sending sparks flying all over the cockpit. An awkward silence fell in which he turned to face Patton, who of course wore no visible expression.

This, and all the reasons for it, annoyed him further.

“I swear if you ask one question about scutes or scales,” he warned, holding up a finger.

“I wasn’t…going to.” Patton held up his hands. “Logan kind of taught us how to tune out the more, er, naughty things Remus says. But I am wondering,” he added hesitantly. “Are you…feeling okay?”

“Fabulous. Peachy,” Janus said flatly, kneeling to feel around on the floor. “Fantastic, allons-y, geronimo, what have you.”

“It’s just, you seem a little angry,” Patton went on. “And you remember, that’s, that’s the first step in being converted. Maybe you should wear the bracelet for a while? We can trade on and off…”

Patton’s fingers went to his wrist, but Janus stopped him with a gloved hand on top.

Tell him, an inner voice whispered. Tell him now, before this gets any more awkward.

“That’s sweet of you, but no, I’m merely frustrated,” Janus admitted. “I would very much like to get out of here, so I can return to the pleasant evening I was having before all thisss.”

He gestured irritatedly around them.

Patton joined him on the floor and together they found a person-sized hole, with a rope ladder hanging down.

“Hey, Janus,” Patton murmured, as they were about to start the long climb down. “Can I ask you something?”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re going to ask no matter what I say?” Janus said wryly.

“Do you remember when that puppet attacked you in the main part of the ship, and I fought it off with the fire extinguisher?” Patton ducked his head.

Janus raised an eyebrow.

“They hesitated, when they saw me.” Patton’s unnaturally black eyes met Janus’s. “That’s why I had time to grab the extinguisher.”

Janus swallowed, his heart starting to pound.

“Well, I’m sure they aren’t used to anyone fighting back—”

“No, they hesitated like…like I scared them or something,” Patton pressed. “It was weird, Janus. Please. If there’s something you need to tell me…you know you can.”

Janus’s mouth compressed into a flat line and he looked away, bitterness welling up inside him.

“Can I, Patton?” he asked softly, holding up a gloved hand. A yellow indictment of everything he was. “Can I really?”

Patton sighed, long and deep.

“Touché.”

Chapter 8- Extremis

“Something’s coming. And I’m blind. How can I see them when I’m lost in the dark?”

Logan awoke to someone shaking him.

He opened his eyes to an expanse of blurry blobs and color splotches, and Roman’s sharp, frantic face very close to his. His eyes have amber flecks, his brain noted inanely. But why is he clear when nothing else is…?

Roman threw his head back and exhaled in obvious relief when Logan groaned, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.

“Singing chimeras, Specs, I was starting to worry.”

Logan sat up and touched his bare face. Ah, there’s the problem.

“Where are my glasses?”

Roman was quiet.

Logan leaned closer to the other Side, squinting. Bad eyesight was such an annoyance. If only Thomas’s developing brain hadn’t decided early on that “smart and logical” also meant “stereotypically nerdy”, and pigeonholed his own sense of Logic into actually requiring corrective eyewear.

“Roman?” Logan tried again.

“Um. About that.”

Roman bit his lip, and handed over a smashed set of frames. Logan’s stomach sank as he examined them; the lenses were shattered beyond repair.

“I found them next to you like that, when I woke up,” Roman explained. “I’ve been trying to summon another pair, but for some reason the Imagination won’t let me!”

Logan pushed down a growing sense of dread, that he’d have to navigate the rest of this adventure half-blind.

“My glasses getting broken is obviously not your fault. We did fall down a rather deep hole,” he pointed out. “But what do you mean, the Imagination isn’t letting you?”

“I mean it’s not letting me!” Roman threw up his hands. “I could summon things on the TARDIS just fine, but now…” He sighed. “I am Creativity, right?”

Logan tilted his head and frowned.

“Is that…Roman, that is a nonsensical question. Of course you are.”

“So summoning a tiny object in my own dream scenario should be easy.” Roman hung his head.

“How long have you been trying?”

“Twenty minutes, maybe?” Roman shrugged, still not looking at him. “All that time, and yet still I fail.”

Logan resisted the urge to point out that twenty minutes should be long enough to realize a thing might be outside of one’s control, and to start brainstorming other options.

Stubborn fool.

“Maybe it’s just as well we picked the wedding over the callback,” Roman added darkly, an uncharacteristic glower twisting his face. “When Thomas’s Creativity apparently can’t even control his own dreams.”

Oh…this isn’t about glasses at all, is it? Logan swallowed around an achy sensation in his chest; the one he always got when something was wrong and Roman made that face and he just…needed to fix it.

Native English speakers have a passive vocabulary of around forty thousand words, he thought, frustrated. So why, in situations like this, am I constantly struggling to find the right thing to say?

The resigned set to Roman’s jaw prompted Logan to try.

“Your inability to summon things may not be your doing,” Logan said, laying a hand on Roman’s knee. “Perhaps the Imagination is attempting to impose a sense of realism on this adventure.”

“Realism,” Roman echoed flatly. “In Doctor Who.”

Logan huffed. “You must admit, summoning objects out of thin air does defy even time-traveling alien logic.”

Roman’s face twitched in the tiniest of smiles. “So why did it work before, Teach?”

“Maybe it only worked on the TARDIS because the ship already defies every known rule of physics.” Logan shrugged. “I admit I cannot possibly intuit the inner workings of the Imagination; I can only theorize from what I have observed thus far.”

Roman chuckled softly to himself, and bumped Logan’s shoulder.

“Aww, Nerd, I’m touched. You’re trying to logic me into feeling better.”

“Is it…working?” Logan asked.

“Kind of?” An unreadable expression flitted over Roman’s face. “At least one of us is still grounded in reality.”

“Where else could one possibly be grounded?”

Roman laughed outright at this.

“Oh, Logan. Never change, okay?”

He stood up, and pulled Logan to his feet as well.

“Where are we?” Logan asked, squinting.

He could tell they were in some large, open space; all blacks and browns and dull grays. Blurry domes of copper were scattered amongst what could be bits of fallen scaffolding or machinery.

Logan was also hyperaware of Roman’s warm arm pressed against his, and his own hand clasped tightly within the Prince’s larger grip. With everything else blurry, physical sensations were all the more distracting.

“Don’t panic, okay?” Roman started.

Logan scoffed.

“You are fortunate that I am not Virgil,” he commented wryly. “Because starting a sentence like that would almost certainly have caused him to panic.”

“Well, it’s just, do you remember that scene in the Dalek asylum episode where Rory wakes up in the hanger full of dead Daleks who turn out to be not actually dead?” Roman said in a rush. “Because…yeah.”

Oh. Logan swallowed.

“So, I am guessing that those copper domes are actually Daleks?” he said softly.

Roman snorted.

“Copper domes? Jeesh, your eyesight sucks.”

“I am aware,” Logan said flatly. “Which means you will have to guide us out. If I remember correctly, as long as we are quiet and don’t kick any pipes on the ground, we won’t wake them up.”

Roman let go of Logan’s hand… and replaced it with an arm wrapped around his waist. Logan only held back a squeak because it would have been extremely undignified.

“Hey, relax, I got you, Specs.” Roman’s breath ghosted over Logan’s ear. The Prince’s shorter stature allowed him to fit snugly against Logan’s side; if Roman turned his head, he could comfortably tuck his face into the crook of Logan’s neck.

Not…not that Logan imagined him doing any such thing.

Roman drew his sword with a metallic rasp, prompting Logan to pull out his screwdriver, and they set off across the floor.

It was a strange, vulnerable sensation, Logan thought, being this close to another, being forced to rely on him for direction…or maybe it was just that Roman’s Rose Tyler outfit left so much more skin on display than his usual royal attire…

To be fair, Roman’s bare arms and short skirt and leggings were the only non-blurry things in Logan’s line of sight at the moment.

“You know, I am not sure how much good a sword will do against a Dalek now,” Logan said dryly (to distract himself). “Since it would seem that the Imagination is now attempting to be realistic.”

“It’ll be a lot more useful than a screwdriver,” Roman retorted. “Honestly, the War Doctor had a point. The later seasons really do start to treat the sonic like a weapon, and it looks ridiculous. There’s an oily-looking puddle to your left.”

They dodged around it.

“The sonic screwdriver is an ingenious, multipurpose tool,” Logan argued. “Fitting for a character who is, at heart, a pacifist. In the right hands, it most certainly could serve as a weapon. For example one could scramble a Cyberman’s circuits, short out fuses, or calculate the precise amount of blunt force needed to take down an enemy.” Logan waved the hand with the screwdriver around them. “All things that a sword could not accomplish.”

“Sure,” Roman drawled, leading them around one of the still, silent Daleks, “but you don’t point a sonic at an oncoming Dalek and expect to survive. Even the Doctor had more sense than to try that. At least a sword could cut off its blaster arm.”

“We don’t know how strong Dalek amor is down here,” Logan pointed out. “You could end up breaking your sword and then where would we be?”

“Better off than we’d be while you assembled a cabinet at them!”

Logan’s foot collided with a metallic something that made an awful CLANG and went skittering across the floor. Roman pulled them up short, his face going pale.

All around them, round blue lights began to flicker on, one by one.

“I kicked the pipe, didn’t I?” Logan said, his heart starting to pound.

“You kicked the pipe,” Roman confirmed in a sick voice.

“EGGS…!” a crackly Dalek voice next to them stuttered, making them jump. “EG-EG-EG-EGGS…!” Its twin lights flashed erratically as it spoke.

“Roman,” Logan started.

“‘Eggs, you may laugh and that’s great…’” Roman sang in a wavering voice. “‘Your smiles are what make my day’…”

The Dalek rolled toward them creakily. “EEEEEGGS!”

Logan’s breathing sped up. Another Dalek rolled in from the other side, causing him to stumble. All around them, mechanical creaks and groans and a chorus of digitized voices rose up…

“EG…EG-EGGS…TERM…”

“Roman, I believe we need to run.” Logan could see the Dalek almost clearly now, its eyestalk glowing, its gunstick rising up.

“…IN…ATE…”

Blurry, flashing lights closed in.

“‘My self-worth’s fragile like an egg,’” Roman sang. The hand gripping Logan’s middle tightened painfully. “‘When it breaks it’s tough to put together again…’”

“EX…TERM…IN…ATE!”

“Roman!” Logan shouted. “Get us out of here!”

“EXTERMINATE!”

A blaster bolt warbled past and exploded over their heads.

Roman shuddered and seemed to snap out of it, seizing Logan’s arm and pulling him so hard he nearly fell. Logan staggered, hanging onto Roman’s hand for dear life as they ran, and ran, and blaster bolts burst at their feet and shattered around them.

“This way, boys and boys,” Remus’s voice sing-singed across the room. Roman yanked them hard in that direction.

“REMUS!” Roman shouted as they ran, and Logan was impressed he had the breath for it. “Remus, you better open that door like you’re supposed to or we are DEAD!”

“Oh, keep your pants on, brother,” Remus snarked, sounding a little closer. “Although maybe Logan would prefer that you didn’t—”

Whatever else he said wasn’t audible over a hanger full of jabbering Daleks and firing blasters.

They reached a wall and Roman shoved Logan down.

“Straight ahead, crawl. Go, go, go!” he said, turning and brandishing his sword.

Bless that Prince and his stupid, stupid bravery.

Logan went, nearly tripping over his coat as he crawled under the barely lifted hatch door. Once he was past the threshold Roman flung himself under and through, knocking into Logan and sending them both sliding across the floor.

There was a hiss and a heavy thud that Logan hoped was the door shutting behind them, and finally, blessed silence. They both leaned against the wall for a moment, catching their breath.

Roman thunked his head back.

“Jesus Christ Superstar,” he muttered.

“Your welcome.”

Remus’s voice crackled through the hallway. Roman growled and sat up straighter, looking around as if his brother would magically appear.

“I did just save your lives,” Remus added. From the direction of the sound, Logan guessed he was talking through a speaker somewhere on the far wall.

“Yeah, and I’m still gonna whip your butt when this is all over,” Roman groused.

“Oooh, do I get to choose the instrument?”

Roman sputtered, but Logan grabbed his arm before he could yell back.

“You know he just likes to get under your skin,” he murmured, and raised his voice. “Thank you for opening the door, Remus. We are grateful for your help.”

There was a silence on the other end, with a quality that Logan would have described as shocked.

“Well. You two lovebirds better move along,” Remus drawled finally, shrill as ever. “Before the Silurian army shows up.”

“Excuse me, the WHAT?” Logan exclaimed.

No answer.

“Remus!” Roman clambered to his feet and helped Logan up.

Nothing.

Except now that Logan was listening for it, he definitely heard approaching footsteps and murmuring, heavily-accented voices. And they were getting closer.

“That dick,” Roman grumbled through gritted teeth.

“To be fair, I think he is trying to help,” Logan pointed out. “In his own way.”

“Don’t be fair to my brother when he’s just led us out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

“We are neither in a pan nor on fire, Roman; I have never understood that saying—”

The lights dimmed and flashed an eerie purple; Roman silenced him with a hand over his mouth. There was a voice…not Remus’s, not alien, not like anything Logan had ever heard. It chanted something, over and over again, before fading out.

The lights flared back to normal.

Logan waited, counting Roman’s shallow breaths against his neck.

Nothing.

“What was that?” he asked softly.

“Beats the hell out of me,” Roman responded. “But I guess that’s our cue to go. Stay close, Mr. Magoo.”

Logan grumbled, but allowed Roman to recapture his hand and lead them in the opposite direction of the approaching footsteps…which had resumed the moment the purple light vanished.

Next time Roman asked him to come on an adventure, he was bringing a spare set of glasses.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic #ts fanfiction #doctor who #thomas sanders #canon compliant #action #adventure #romance #roman sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #ts sides #ts roman #ts logan #ts deceit #ts patton #ts remus #ts virgil #logince #moceit #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #bickering #enemies to friends #rivals to lovers

[sparkles-and-trash]

My fav 3 versions/interpretations of South Park characters thing!

I’m so sorry this took much longer than anticipated, I was gonna do it Friday but then I had a panic attack for the first time in forever because my CFS have been real bad lately and I was in such bad shape my BFF had to come and smack me back to life, and Sunday was suddenly full on breakdown day, a bad BPD episode and yeah, it was rough, but today I’m doing better and I realize nobody really cares about my personal issues lol but I just have a need to excuse myself here and I realize that’s kinda dumb but here we are ANYWAYS I hope these are okay, and that these are in no way the RIGHT interpretations, just my personal favorites! 

Kyle:

suggested by the wonderful  @otherluces <3

#1 

I’m not gonna lie, I love nerdy, preppy Kyle. Sweater-vests, collard shirts, doesn’t realize how attractive he is Kyle, oblivious to people having crushes on him Kyle, set on Harvard to become a lawyer and fight for justice and argue for a living, yanno? 

#2 

I also really like the more dorky and nerdy Kyle, where he has really niché interests that he gets totally invested in and talks about 24/7, loves reading and studying, but not just to get good results, but because he genuinly enjoys it.

#3

The last version I can think of with him, is the tall, lanky and kinda hard to read Kyle. He keeps a lot of his feelings to himself, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them. He plays basketball, he’s good at it too, and while he does well in school and everyone expects him to go into law, he has some totally different dream he keeps to himself for now. He kinda perks up a bit when in smaller crowds, esp with his cloest friends, but he still carries a lot of secrets that some time needs to come out.

Tweek:

suggested by my new fren  @soft-craig-and-tweek ^^

I like Tweek in so many ways these were hard to pick, but I’mma try to narrow it down a bit and not go totally off haha

#1

I actually quite enjoy the jagged, tired Tweek, the one who with help from friends and family manage to get off the meth his parents feed him secretly, but who still struggle with withdrawal, dark bags under his eyes, kinda pale and with sharp features, but he’s still a sweet and kind boy, a boy who wants to make the right choices and change the world to a better place, but who still has a darkness he carries, and the fact that he never gives up that fight is what makes him so special 

#2

and okay I have to be honest, I do love myself some sunshine boy Tweek. This Tweek still has issues, he is maybe even more anxious than the last one, but he’s also just as vibrant and energetic as he is anxious! He is an artist, he paints with bright colors, he composes beautiful, hopeful melodies, he feels everything so much,  and he is a contagious and exciting person to be around. Cannot dress for the life of him. So much mis-match and odd outfits, but it kinda works? 

#3

The last one I’m gonna mention for this wonderful boy, is the more alternative Tweek. He writes obscure poetry, he watches too many conspiracy theory videos on youtube, he draws the monsters in his mind, and he writes the scariest, most hauntingly beautiful stories on the internet, and people online love him. He has no idea how to deal with being popular in that sense, because irl he is the type to not belong to a certain friend group, but he does go along well with most people on a surface level. Dark circles, shaky hands, crooked and cute smiles, baggy t-shirts and ripped jeans. When he first opens up to someone, he really, really does, and he will always support and be there for you. If you deserve it, that is. 

Nichole: 

also suggested by  @soft-craig-and-tweek <3 

#1

I love nerdy Nichole who isn’t afraid to show it! Maybe she’s a streamer or youtube gamer even, I can def see her writing fanfiction, and being hella good at it too! Makes quite a name for herself online, and hangs out with the boys a lot irl, has game nights with the boys from Board Girls (even Cartman sometimes), is funny in a sarcastic way, but never mean. 

#2

Popular girl Nichole is also a favorite for me, but not in the “classical” sense. I imagine her to be a sporty, maybe on both the basket and volleyball team, captain for the basket one, she’s a born leader, she’s kind and fair, but can also be strict, and people always trust her to be honest and true.  

#3

Artsy Nichole!! I imagine her in bright yellow dresses and with her hair flowing and free, with flowers in her hair, freckles on her face, a big, genuine smile, a loud laughter that is so contagious, she loves spending time with Jimmy because they have a very similar humor, and she’s a theater kid, she sings like an angel and can act, oh boy can she act, she can make anyone laugh or cry in just a blink of an eye, she’s just a human sun-ray and I love her a lot 

Butters: 

suggested by @kinguidamundo, thank you so much!! 

#1

I love edgy Butters soooo much??? Like, he’s still a kind and bright boy, but he can also stand up for himself a lot more, he likes fashion a lot, he gets tattoos and piercings, he explores tons of ways to express himself, he’s a yes-dude, he goes out on dates a lot, but isn’t ready for a “real” relationship yet, but he enjoys meeting people and testing out himself around different types of people! Also he is a bi icon change my mind jk u can’t 

#2

I have a weak spot for the kind of soft and timid looking Butters too, who wears pastel colors and have big, innocent eyes, he is genuine and kind, but he carries something darker inside, something he isn’t sure how to deal with, something that scares him, but in reality it’s just normal feelings, anger, resentment and fear, but he’s lived his life ignoring them so much they catch him off guard at times. He learns to live with them slowly, and he does so with lots of help and patience from friends and loved ones. 

#3

Okay, last one, totally self-indulging here, but yeah, happy sunflower boy is also a big favorite. He is more confident than the previous version, but in a gullible way if that makes any sense? He believes the best in people, and if he is proven wrong, he’s willing to try to help them become better people, if they want to or not! This is honestly the version I love most with Stan, Butters being the ray of sunshine in Stan’s life and Stan being the realism to keep Butters grounded and them both supporting each other so much? Fuck yeah that’s the good stuff. 

Clyde:

suggested by @horrorpumpkin, ty sm friend! <3 

#1

Himbo Clyde!!! Jock dude who genuinely loves sports, he’s a team player, and while he might not be super intellectual, he is very socially smart, he is kind and empathic, he is funny and likable, he always tries his best to make everyone feel included, and while he loves chicks a lot, and is a sexual dude, he does it with nothing but respect and admiration for the ladies! 

#2

Bisexual disaster Clydeeee <3 obv being bi isn’t a personality trait, but he is very open about it, he wants to be confident and good at flirting, but goddamn is he a MESS! He’s also a huge supporter of every single relationship his friends is in, he loves love, in all shapes and forms, he is emotional and kind and awkward in an endearing way. 

#3

Can’t leave out crybaby Clyde, can we now? He’s a bit of an awkward bean as well, but he owns it a bit more. He is kinda like a puppy, a cute, excitable and emotional puppy who loves his friends, video games and lazy movie nights, kinda chubby, he loves baking and does it a lot with Tweek, he is also a huge nerd for Harry Potter and totally geek out over it with Kyle and Nichole sdhlksgdhl

Kenny: 

suggested by anon! 

#1

First up I guess I should put my high school AU Kenny. I know it’s controversial, but I imagine this Kenny to be more on the quiet side, but not really in a shy way. He’s just a bit of an observer who doesn’t speak unless he really sees fit, and while he still has his crude humor and is kinda rumored to be sleeping around a lot, he actually struggle with intimacy issues. He never imagined them to include sexual stuff, but turns out they do, and balancing being sexually open and curious and having these issues ain’t easy on the boy, let me tell you that. 

#2

This one is kinda heavily inspired by Luces, but I love him as kind and loyal, but also a bit more chatty and charming, but not for his own gain. He wants others to feel good about themselves, in social settings, his friends, during sexy times, he is selfless and good, but he is also living for the moment, he is a likable and wonderful guy, but he does still only REALLY open up emotionally to people he really trusts. Not traditionally attractive, but interesting looking in a way. Lots of freckles, bit of buck teeth with a big gap between his front teeth, messy kinda curly hair, long straight nose. Always wears baggy hoodies and worn out jeans, shrugs and gives that lopsided smile when people ask him about anything personal.

#3

Mysterious Kennyyyy. You think you know him, everyone does, but in reality, very few have seen the real him. He likes people, and he likes to help them, he’s always down to listen to people’s problems and help them, he wants to inspire kids like himself to never give up and think there’s only one path for them, because he knows there is not. Volunteers at the animal shelter with Stan, works part time at Tweek Bro’s and is good buddies with Tweek. Had a early sexual debut, slept around a bit and got his heart broken unexpectedly when he was a Freshman, so there are some walls there now, but he ain’t usually one to turn down someone who’s up for it and whom with he has good chemistry either. 

#kyle broflovski #tweek tweak #nichole daniels #leopold butters stotch #butters stotch #clyde donovan #kenny mccormick #south park #south park headcanon #south park headcanons #sp #South Park tag #sp kenny #sp butters #sp clyde #sp nichole #sp tweek #sp kyle

[theokotrain]

Vestige - Chapter 3: Someone Else Will See It For Yourself

Wattpad Version

In the middle of the vortex, the wind picked up

Shook up the soot, from the chimney pot

Into spiral patterns, of you, my love

---

Who said that?

It sounded distant, but I could almost tell it was meant for me. I shut the door as fast as I can manage, locking it behind me. Turning around, I glance further into the cabin.

"Shaela? You here?" I lightly shouted, hoping she would just be in her room or something. No response.

I moved to the backdoor, looking out the window to see if she was waiting in the backyard. The trees and bushes are noticeably rustling from the wind. The door to the generator seemed to be open, but I had absolutely zero interest in checking that out, let alone going outside. I reach for my pocket, aiming to grab my phone so I can call her, only to find out it isn't there.

Shit, right, I left it with Liam.

I open the backdoor a crack, sticking my body half out the door, "Shaela! Where the fuck did you go?"

The eerie silence of the wind is all that returned, leaving me spooked, to say the least. I close the back door, choosing to head back out front. As much as I wanted to hide inside the cabin for the rest of this bullshit, I couldn't just leave Shae and Liam out there. I step outside, closing the front door behind me as softly as I can manage. As the door shuts, I feel an unnerving amount of pressure building up in my ears and softening the sounds around me. I step down the creaky wooden steps, heading back down the driveway.

"I swear to god Shae if this is you just trying to scare me..." I huff, looking through the nearby trees, "...It's fucking working. Now cut the shit!" I know that situation is unlikely, but it's definitely the preferred outcome out of all the scenarios my anxiety-ridden brain is currently playing out.

Maybe she called Liam again and met him at the lake because I was taking too long? I definitely would've heard her on my way up to the cabin if that were true, though. Any reasoning at this point is useless anyway, it's easiest for me to just head back to Liam, then I could at least have my phone and call Shae to see where the hell she went.

The fog seems to be a bit clearer near the highway, which instills at least a minor amount of confidence in me. I cross the asphalt road as fast as I can, trying to hear for any cars that might come barrelling down the limited-visibility highway. I start walking down the trail towards the lake, each step filled with the determination to get the fuck out of this forest, and at least back with Liam. My ears twitch at every minor sound that fills the nearby area, the whistling of the wind, the rustling of the flora, the skittering of the local wildlife. I can't help but feel watched, despite the minimal evidence I have backing up that fear. Well, with the exception of whoever the fuck was talking to me a few minutes ago.

Did I really just skip over that major detail? Someone was talking to me, but I didn't see anybody around. Am I going insane? It could have just been the wind, the voice lacked the substance of someone actually talking. The problem with that, though, is that the wind doesn't typically sound out actual fucking words. Whatever, any of these ideas are just my anxious thought-process trying to make sense of the information it's been taking in.

When I reach the clearing by the lake, I can barely see out into the water. It was typical for it to get foggy by the lake during the spring or fall, because the warming temperatures didn't collide well with the cold air and freezing lake, although rarely to this extent. That doesn't matter now though, the important detail that hadn't registered in my mind yet is that Liam is nowhere to be found. The blanket, along with the rest of the stuff I brought is still lying exactly where I left it. I look around the clearing..

"Liam?" I shouted, hoping he was close by.

Someone has to be fucking with me at this point. Did he go up to the cabin? Maybe he saw the fog and decided to head back? Obviously not, cause I would've at least heard him! I try not to expect the worst, but it feels almost impossible not to at this point.

The jarring sound of my ringtone brings me back to reality. The vibrations of the phone are quieted by the blanket it lays upon. I pick it up, looking to see the Caller ID.

Tyler?

I answer the call, still trying to figure out what's going on, "What is it?" I said, a noticeable irritation in my voice from the situation.

"why did you wake me?" He replied. His voice sounded almost hollow, like a memory.

"Wake you? Dude, you called me? Just tell me what you want cause I'm kindaaa busy right now!" I said hurriedly, trying not to come off as rude.

"i wanted so much to be at rest."

"Wha- then go to back to bed?!? I don't see why you had to call for this, dude. Besides, it's like one in the afternoon? Shouldn't you be working right now?" I remarked, eager for him to get to the point.

There's a long pause between us, I didn't count the time, but it was long enough to be noticeable, and for me to quickly get impatient.

"it's different now, i think"

...

"What is? Just- can you stop speaking like you're reading poetry and say something actually coherent?"

There's an even longer moment of silence, he doesn't seem interested in answering my questions.

I sigh deeply, sitting down on the blanket that was left behind, my face in my palm. "What's different now?" I said bluntly.

"somewhere i lost whatever else i had"

"What, are you writing music now? Testing your lyrics out on me? Very poetic. But this is not the ti-"

"i wasn't over you"

That does a pretty good job of shutting me up. I bury my face further into my palm, trying to escape whatever bullshit I've gotten myself into as the wind picks up around me.

"...Yeah. I know." I admit. I could tell whatever explanations he came up with last night were pretty clearly a façade, but for him to admit it like this? None of it seemed real. "Is that why you called? ...I'm sorry, Tyler. You're a great guy, better than you care to admit. B- but I'm happy now. I hope you can get to that point soon, too."

"there's so much travel yet, jake."

I take a moment to process his words, when I hear the sound of leaves crunching distantly behind me. I jerk my head towards the sound of the noise, hoping to see Shae and Liam coming to find me, to no avail. It feels like there's thousands of eyes on me all at once as I try to ignore my surroundings.

"I- I know." I say, not really wanting to continue my thought process. "You know, some part of me wishes it went differently... back then." I can feel the wind getting stronger as I continue.

"who would you be now?"

"...someone better, probably. At least I'd have things figured out," I sighed. "Everything's been so uncertain lately, I don't know what my life's gonna look like in a few months, let alone when I'm older."

"don't worry, someone else will see it for yourself."

"Wh- what do you mean?"

The wind quickly dies down, and the only sound remaining is the tone coming from the phone, signalling the connection was lost.

What the fuck just happened?

I go back to my phone, dialling Ty's number once again. The phone rings a few times before he finally answers.

"Hey! Whaddya need? You kinda caught me at a bad time, it's pretty busy right now at work." He replied sincerely, his voice noticeably different from moments ago.

"Oh, uh, sorry! Did you just call me?"

"Call you? Uhh, I don't think so? Unless I butt-dialed you or something?"

"Ah, robocaller must've spoofed your number or something." I didn't have any way to rationally explain the previous events without sounding crazy, so I opted to stay casual, repressing the thoughts back to where they came from. "So, you're able to come tonight, right?" I said, trying to shift the topic.

"Yeah I should be able to if they don't make me stay late again! You need me to bring anything over?" He inquired.

"Uhh, I'll get back to you about that in a bit. I am currently at the lake near the cabin and have no clue where Shae and Liam are." I exclaimed in a sarcastically perky voice.

"...What?"

"I- It's probably fine, they're adults, they're probably fine. I'm just paranoid." I said, lightly laughing to lighten the mood.

"Oh, well, let me know if you find 'em! I'll try to keep my phone on me." He assured.

"Yeah, will do!" My eyes widen, and I let out a sigh, "God, I'm just bothering you at this point. I give you permission to go back to work now!" I joked.

"Nah, you're good! I like talking to you." He said, I could almost hear the smile in his voice.

I laughed a tired laugh, "Yeah. You too." A moment passed as neither of us spoke up, "Well, I should probably at least try calling them."

"You haven't tried calling them yet??? Remind me to never let you lead the search party if I go missing," He joked.

"Yeah, like I'd even be considered for leading any search party," I remarked sarcastically. The both of us laughed. "I'll let you know if we need anything, I should get going." "Sounds good!"

We said our goodbyes and I hung up, my mind returning to focus on the lake. I gathered the blanket and anything else Liam left behind and started walking back up the trail. The wind had reduced to subtlety at this point, but the fog was still in full force. I said to Ty that I would call them, but I needed a few more minutes of uncertainty. Any of the fears that occupied my mind earlier were long dissipated as I thought over some problematic dilemmas.

If Ty didn't call me, then who was I talking to?

It sounded just like him, minus the usual substance of his low-toned voice. And unless he was lying to me when he said he didn't call me the first time, then maybe I'm just losing whatever remnants of sanity that I had before today.

Honestly, what's even the point of me rationalizing this? What would I even tell people? That I heard a voice talking to me, but no one was there? That Liam and Shae essentially vanished off the face of the Earth? That I got a phone call by the water from my ex, speaking incoherent poetry, admitting that he wasn't over me?

I cross the highway.

Yeah, there's no combination of words in any language that I could piece together to explain that without losing the respect of everyone around me. I'm sure I could at least get an explanation from Liam and Shae about wherever they ran off to.

I step up the stairs onto the front patio of the cabin.

Whatever, this is just some anomalous twenty minutes of my life that I'll probably forget in a week or two. The simplest solution is to just move on, there's a lot of time left on this trip for me to not have to deal with shit.

I try the door knob, finding it unlocked. The door creaks as I open it, peering inside.

"Fucking hell, where were you?!?"

#Vestige #Story #Novel #Chapter #Three #3 #chapter #novella #furry #gay #lgbt #mystery #coming of age #wattpad #fiction

[mothers-little-pistols]

Incorrect Quote Dump (1/?)

Warning, this post is so fucking long.

Thrill, writing in his diary: February twenty-eighth, 2020. Today I watched a crewmate fall and eat shit.

[][][][][]

Widow: GO TO BED! Kit: NO! Widow: JUST GO TO BED! IT'S TWO AM AND YOU CAN'T BE AWAKE THIS LATE IN THE ZONES! Kit: WATCH ME!

[][][][][]

Ghoul: So you all fucked up pretty badly. Good luck finding new tires for this thing. Kit: *scoff* I think the ones we have are fine for at least another fourty miles. Ghoul: *pointing to the blown-out tires that have all but shredded off the rims* You fucking fubar'd the tires on this and you think it can go for another fourty miles!? Toxin: *cackles* Kit: You both shut up.

[][][][][]

Jet: Wait a minute. Jet: Share...skill... Jet: *inhales* AA-

[][][][][]

Poison: So what exactly do you and your little band of assholes do? Kit: *looking at the chaos that is the Pistols* Tss...ooh...hard question...auh...?

[][][][][]

*after they find the Zone Four motel* Kit: *enjoying a cold shower for the first time in a while* Poison: *opens the door and walks in* Kit: Who the fuck's there? Poison: It's me, I have to piss. Kit: Ok, you do that. Try anything and I'll shoot you though. Poison: Whatever. *silence* Kit: Flush that toilet and I'll shoot you. *silence* *toilet flushes* Kit: *is sprayed with boiling hot water* POISON-

[][][][][]

Thrill: I am your God now! Bring me your virgins! Ghoul: What virgins? We're all sluts here. Jet: Who's 'we'? Ghoul: *points at Poison* Poison: Hey!

[][][][][]

Kobra: So what are we doing out here exactly? Poison: Kit wanted us to find something called the... Poison: *takes off glove and looks at smudged writing on hand* Poison: ‘ Hellements of Armony’.

[][][][][]

Toxin: *scurrying through The Zones* Squeedly-dee, stay out of the desert!

[][][][][]

Widow: So, ok, I go over to Poison's room. Here I was expecting their PC to have burned down because of all the decomposing moth carcasses in their CPU fan. But no. I was not that lucky.

[][][][][]

Kit: *drunk and draping herself into Kobra's arms* Oh doctor! What's the diagnosis? Kobra: *sighing and playing along* You're horny for Poison... Kit: Oh my! Horny for Poison, you say? Well, do you have a cure? Kobra: *dropping her and walking away* Yeah, leaving me the fuck out of this.

[][][][][]

Poison: *obviously drunk* BATTERY CITY! CAN SUCK! MY! D- Kobra: *slaps his hand over their mouth* And that's enough tequila for you. Poison: *muffled* LET ME SPEAK!

[][][][][]

Widow: Thots on Val Velocity? Poison: So Val has thots now. Kit: Crawling all over him like weevils. Jet: I think they're the Ultra Vs, actually.

[][][][][]

Widow: Why don't you listen to Cherri Cola's Poetry Corner and maybe you'll calm down.

[][][][][]

Poison: *is fucking dead* Thrill: Thrill: Wake up, piss boy.

[][][][][]

Toxin: Are you fucking stupid? Kit: How long have you been friends with me? Toxin: Three years? Kit: Am I stupid, Tox? Toxin: Maybe a little bit. Kit: It's ok, you can call me an idiot. Toxin: Yeah, you're a fucking dumbass.

[][][][][]

Widow: *after settling an argument* Court dismissed, bring in the dancing lobsters.

[][][][][]

Poison: Hold on. Poison: *leaves the motel and stands outside* Poison: *SCREAMS* Kit: Kit: I'm fucking that.

[][][][][]

Poison: FOR THE LAST TIME! Poison: STOP CALLING ME 'PISS JACKET'! Ghoul: IT SMELLS LIKE PISS! Poison: IT'S COLOGNE! Jet: Are you sure though? Poison: Ghoul: Jet: Poison: Fuck yourself.

[][][][][]

Kobra: Hey, Poison, check this out. Poison: *fiddling with their raygun* Hang on, I'm busy. Kobra: Hey, look at me. Poison: Give me a second. Kobra: I'm more important, give me attention. Poison: I said give me a God damn second. Kobra: I'm getting very upset. Poison: I don't give a fuck how upset you are. I said give me a second. Poison: *puts their raygun down* Hello, what is it? Kobra: *points to his helmet upside down on top of his head* I can balance a helmet on my head.

[][][][][]

Poison: *standing in Kit's doorway* I'm sad, can I lay on your floor for a sec?

[][][][][]

Jet: *standing outside* Don't you come in this room, Korse, I will dust your ass.

[][][][][]

Thrill: Party Piss Jacket Peepee Pants Penishead Poison, will you please come here? Poison: *>:(*

[][][][][]

Widow: Can I ask you something? Kit: What's good? Widow: Why are you such a whore? Kit: Drive sidestreet and get dusted.

[][][][][]

Kit: *yelling into the other room* Jet! Jet Star! Jet: *doesn't respond*  Kit: Destroya damnit. Thrill: JETTY! Jet: *looks up* What? Kit: You wanna get food? Jet: Huh? Kit: Do you wanna obtain edible substances? Jet: What? Thrill: YOU WANT FOOD!? Jet: Oh, yeah, I do! Kit: Then come outside, there's an angel cake in the next Zone over! Jet: Make me. Thrill: SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET FOOD! Jet: Alright.

[][][][][]

Thrill: *flipping Kit off with both hands* Kit: Thanks, Thrill! *:D* Thrill: Fuck you! *:D*

[][][][][]

Ghoul: They broke it, they blew up the school, they own a trenchcoat, they have a gun- Poison: This started about Diamond accidentally stepping on my headphones.

[][][][][]

Kobra: I overheard Poison yelling at Toxin about banana bread and something about 'I've made a shitload of banana bread, don't you dare put that much sugar in it, it'll be grainy as shit-' Thrill: I think we should regulate humans...with guns...

[][][][][]

Toxin: Skibidefuck!

[][][][][]

Kobra: *takes off his helmet* Toxin: He looks like a baby. He looks like a literal infant. I wanna caress his cheek and put him in a crib and sing him lullabies. FF and MLP: Toxin, what the f u c k?

[][][][][]

Kobra: No one here is gonna make fun of you. Except he might. Ghoul: Yeah, I might.

[][][][][]

Pony: *tries to create a sense of calm by lighting incense only to discover that the sticks were sparklers* Widow: That's painfully on-brand, actually.

[][][][][]

The Girl: *whispering into walkie talkie* Poison, the Pistols are drinking beer, I need you to come pick me up-

[][][][][]

Ghoul: Hey Poison, do you think I can get this egg into that jar without it cracking? Poison: No. Ghoul: *throws it at Kobra* Guess you were right.

[][][][][]

Toxin: Dude, I thought you could do a kickflip. Ghoul: I can! I can! I did one this morning!

[][][][][]

Val: Hey Vaya, do you have any gum? Vaya: *spits their gum out at him* Val: *blinks* Ok then- Vamos, do you have any gum? Vamos: *spits their gum out at him*

[][][][][]

Kit: *walking into Ghoul's room* Hey Toxin, Ghoul- Oh, you guys are doing dress rehearsal. Shiny. Auh, I'm gonna go to Tommy Chow Mein's shop real quick, you guys need anything? Hair dye, Power Pup?

[][][][][]

Widow: *holding up a jack-o-lantern* I made a goblin, what'd you guys make? Toxin: *holding her pumpkin turned into a bong* I made a kick-ass bong. Widow: ...creative! Diamond: *cutting a hole in theirs* I'm gonna fuck this pumpkin.

[][][][][]

Ghoul: *looking through a telescope* I love this Zone! Widow and Kit: *play wrestling in the dirt* Poison: Lemme see- *looks through telescope in the other direction* Kobra and Toxin: *fucking on the hood of the M240* Poison: Gorgeous.

[][][][][]

Diamond: *has been staring at the same ray gun for the past thirty minutes* Tommy Chow Mein: Buy something or fuck off.

[][][][][]

Val: Hey guys. Good alternative recycling; when you're done with a glass bottle, eat it. Fucking eat the bottle.

[][][][][]

Kobra: *reading sign outside the shower* No shoes, no shirt, no pants, no socks, no underwear. Kobra: Ok, I think I'm good. *gets in*

[][][][][]

Widow: Look at the buns on that guy. Jet: *laying on the ground covered in burger buns* Korse: This is the comedy police, the joke's too funny! Widow: *holding her ray gun* I'M NOT GOING BACK TO THE ICEBOX-

[][][][][]

Jet: *while he's in tears* It's a mental break down... Jet: *plays kazoo to the tune of Final Countdown*

[][][][][]

Dr. Death Defying: What'cha doing on the roof, Tommy? Tommy Chow Mein: *on the roof of his shop* I lost a frisbee. Dr. Death Defying: Are you smoking battery acid up there? Tommy Chow Mein: ...yeah.

[][][][][]

Pony: Keep drinking, Val, don't be boring! God! Pony: *to Diamond* I want him to fucking pass out so someone finally notices me.

[][][][][]

Poison: *wearing the Mousekat head while they’re standing in the empty hotel pool* Thrill: What the fuck? There's a furry in the pool. Poison: *raises their ray gun* Thrill: AA-

[][][][][]

Ghoul: *sliding into the trans-AM* What's up, pussy? Poison: How do you know what I ate yesterday? Ghoul: Poison: Ghoul: Yeah, you right. Poison: *starts the car* Mhm.

[][][][][]

Poison: *driving* Diamond: *in the backseat* POISON! Poison: Yep-? Yeah-?? Diamond: *pointing out the back window* LOOK! *there's a car full of Draculoids on their tail* Poison: OH! OH FUCK! floors it NO, NO, NO, NO! NO-

[][][][][]

Val: *lays on the floor* Ooh, I'm exhausted. Thrill: Yeah, you're really sweaty. Val: You should've seen the other guy- Girl- Your mom- What? Thrill: What? Val: What?

[][][][][]

Dr. Death Defying: *coming in at three AM over the radio* Stop it. Get some help.

[][][][][]

Jet: I'm gonna tell you what I don't do. I don't know shit, I don't get stuff, and I don't understand things.

[][][][][]

Thrill: So you'll do it? Kit: Yeah, man, I'll dust him. Thrill: For how much? Kit: How about thirty? Thrill: Thirty thousand carbons? Kit: *spits out drink*

[][][][][]

Widow: Can you sing the song? Dr. Death Defying: *singing* Shut the fuck and go to sleep- Widow: Thanks *:>*

[][][][][]

Toxin: *wielding a water gun* Put the carbons in the bag, right now- Tommy Chow Mein: That's a water gun. Toxin: *throws it at him* Tommy Chow Mein: Ow! Fine, asshole, just take it-

[][][][][]

Val: *walking out of the V's hideout* Last one out is a stupid idiot! The V's: *have been standing outside for the past hour*

[][][][][]

*before they got with the Pistols* Tommy Chow Mein: *over the loudspeaker* Would the owner of the lime green Honda please come to the front desk. Diamond: *walking over* Are my lights on? Tommy Chow Mein: No, I just wanted to see what you looked like. Your car's fucking ugly.

[][][][][]

Poison: You ready for the best night ever? Widow: You mean sleepy time tea and a good night's sleep? Poison: ...we're going to a Mad Gear concert. Widow: ...I already made the tea.

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Dr. Death Defying: *over the loudspeaker* Attention shoppers, our store closes in ten fucking minutes. Get your shit and let's fucking go. Tommy Chow Mein: *distantly* Hey, you don't fucking work here-

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Diamond: Pony is so annoying. Pony: *outside the window of their room* I heard you were talking shit about me- Diamond: WE ARE ON THE THIRD FLOOR-

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Toxin: 'Tommy Chow Mein' is short for 'Thomas Chowder Mainstreet'. Tommy Chow Mein: Get the fuck out.

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Diamond: *a sand pup* What up? I'm Diamond, I'm nineteen, and I never fuckin' learned how to read.

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Ghoul: *looms over Diamond* Diamond: *looks up from writing in a notebook* Ghoul: Diamond: Ghoul: Diamond: Diamond: I'm writing porn, what the fuck do you want? Ghoul: *loses it and fucks off*

[][][][][]

*at dinner* Jet: Short-ass. Poison: Cuck. Jet: Fuck you. Poison: No, fuck you. Jet: Eat shit and live. Poison: You look like you bite deodorant sticks. Jet: *holds up bowl* I will cut your hair to look like this. Poison: GHOUL, HE THREATENED ME-

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Val: *wild cackling* I GOT ANOTHER HEADSHOT! *cackling continues*

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Toxin: Oh Destroya. You don't think- Ghoul: By the way it's looking, Tox, I'd say Val's a dirty... Toxin: Oh Destroya- Ghoul: Collectivizing... Toxin: No- Ghoul: Gemini. Toxin: GEMINI! GEMINI! Ghoul: Yeah, go get him, Toxin! Toxin: REEEE- *runs in Val's direction* *screaming*

[][][][][]

Toxin: *holding her pet possum* Yeah, and spray him down with that shit in the bottle there. Kobra: *reading the label* For fleas and ticks, huh? Ghoul: *starts laughing in the distance* I'm sorry, for a sec I thought you said 'fleas and piss'! *laughter continues*  Thrill: We could get some of that for Poison then! *laughs* Toxin: *quietly* Party 'Piss Jacket' Poison.

[][][][][]

Diamond: *walking down to the kitchen* Fuck it, I'm hungry enough that I'll eat the stale cereal. Jet: It's five AM, also that cereal is beyond fucking stale. Diamond: *disappearing into the kitchen* I'll probably hate myself afterwards but, eh, am hungy.

[][][][][]

Widow: Kit, I think your dress rehearsal partner is gonna slap me. Kit: ...I'm sorry? I can't really stop 'em. Poison: *raises hand* Widow: AA-

[][][][][]

Kobra: It's almost six in the morning. What the fuck? Jet: Hi, almost six in the morning. I'm dead. Kobra: *-_-* Kobra: *0_0*

[][][][][]

*in the Nest* Val: *sits down with a can of Power Pup* Toxin: You happy? Val: Mhm. Toxin: Good. Your happiness distracts from the fact that I poisoned that Power Pup. Val: Good. I don't like my foods unpoisoned.

[][][][][]

Vaya: *eating a piece of bread* This bread is, like, on the precipice of being stale. Vamos: That sucks. Vaya: Yeah. Vamos: I wouldn't be too happy. Vaya: Yeah, it's the worst snack I've had the misfortune of eating. Vamos: Then stop? Vaya: No, I hate myself and therefore I'm gonna finish it. Also Val would kick my ass if I wasted food. Val: *from the next room* I would! Vaya: See? Vamos: Fine, finish your fuckin' bread.

[][][][][]

Thrill: You- You've been- Been- You've been- You've been hit with a distraction spell. Thrill: *punches Val in the thigh* Val: OW, YOU FUCKER- Thrill: *gets up and runs*

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Val: *opens pack of fruit snacks with teeth* Poison: *intense stare* Val: ...what? Poison: *points at fruit snacks* Val: No. Mine. Poison: I will fucking dismember you, give them to me.

[][][][][]

Ghoul: I don't see how you can sleep with that fucking blanket. I tried to once and it was so fucking hot. It also weighs more than me, probably. Poison: *curled up in a blanket* It's not my fault you're cold-blooded. Ghoul: *hisses* Jet: What'd you say about the cold-blooded? Poison: I was talking about Ghoul. Jet: Ah. Ghoul: Yeah, Jetty, you're friends with a reptilian. Kobra: *quietly* You're not Leafy. *the other three lose it*

[][][][][]

Poison: *slaps Kit's ass* Night! Poison: *goes to their room*

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Kobra: *walking up to his room* Widow: Why is it that whenever he walks on stairs, it sounds like the stairs are trying to eat him? Kobra: *turns around and squints*

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Diamond: Eugh, this off-brand ramen tastes like ass. Widow: Yeah, it really does. Diamond: If it's not Better Living brand, it's not ramen. Widow: That's what I told Thrill. Of course, I was ignored. Kit: Thrill has small pea brain.

[][][][][]

Val: Fight me. Ghoul: No. Val: Fight me. Ghoul: Diamond already tried to fight me in the kitchen, I don't wanna fight anybody else. Val: Beat my ass. Ghoul: I cannot. Val: Why? Ghoul: Ghoul: I'm small.

[][][][][]

Toxin: Hey, I said Kobra was cute, I didn't say he was smart. Kit: That...applies to me... Kit: Why does that apply to me??

[][][][][]

Toxin: *licks Kobra's cheek* Diamond: Don't lick that, you don't know where it's been! Kobra: *>:(*

[][][][][]

Poison: I'm too sober to be having this conversation! Toxin: No, we're having this conversation! What the fuck do you mean!?

[][][][][]

Val: I suck? I suck?? You died! You died! You just died and you’re saying I suck???

#blazing fire ;; party poison #ghostly lad ;; fun ghoul #sweet venom ;; kobra kid #neon nasa ;; jet star #fabulous four #little clementine ;; the girl #dramatically fabulous ;; show pony #shoplifter shooter ;; tommy chow mein #sup doc ;; dr. death defying #foxy sharpshooter ;; gun kit #spidery darlin' ;; widow bite #battery acid ;; toxin dealer #zapped carbon ;; electric diamond #heartthrob flatline ;; thrill killer #mother's little pistols #fucking rat ;; val velocity #hashtag twinning ;; vaya and vamos #kitpoison (gun kit/party poison) #kobratoxin (kobra kid/toxin dealer) #ghoultoxin (fun ghoul/toxin dealer) #tlotfk au #incorrect tlotfk au #incorrect danger days quotes #incorrect killjoy quotes #incorrect tlotfk quotes #incorrect killjoys #incorrect danger days #incorrect tlotfk #radio frequency #// there are probably more tags that i should add to this but i'm tired

[billdenbrough]

i'm going through some rough stuff atm and i've been feeling pretty bad for a while, but the shark puppy au made me smile for the first time in days. thank you so much, to you and to all of the people contributing to it. you made someone's day a lot more bearable

first off, i’m so sorry you’ve been having a hard time recently! i feel that a lil deeply, rip, but i’m sending you all the vibes and care i can, and i really hope things shift for you, because that’s an awful way to feel, but i am so, so happy that anything we did or said today/last night made anything a little easier for you 💕it’s nearly 3am and i have work again in the morning (fucking rip) but i thought i’d put some more shark puppy stuff out there in the hopes it might make tomorrow a little easier for you too!

so this morning before work i answered an ask abt shark puppy and was talking in the tags abt patstanlon (essentially just. thinking abt how to execute it)

and so tonight once i was finally home from work i was talking to a few of the others abt it and @benverlesbians brought up patty’s BA and also how in the book she says bill isn’t a real writer bc he’s a novelist (tangent but i just went back to read the start of that chapter and a, ouch, but b, “Stanley drove a Mercedes diesel—teasing him, she called it Sedanley” this will never not make my heart yell) and that led jem to the conclusion that patty thinks real writing is either non-fiction or non-prose, i.e., journalist or poet

we settled on journalist for her career, but she has a background in poetry from college

@benverlesbians: “patty and mike are like “we both got BAs in english and we are both perfect human beings” and they are correct”

anyway this interview takes place after the Scathing Review from the Conservative Magazine (after richie’s bi ass jeans)

jem posited that bev’s rly protective of the band (and herself, ofc herself, and why wouldn’t she be) and tends to like, vet the interviewers pretty hard, bc she has to be sure she can trust them with their words and their image

and then we were thinking abt how that’s interesting bc like. patty probably isn’t super overt on social media (certainly not just showing her whole self on there, miss ‘wouldn’t admit to thinking richard dawson’s watch chain was sexy if wild horses tried to drag it out of her’), which is like. frustrating for bev’s purposes, but also… kinda relatable? and bev can respect it, on an intellectual and empathetic level, even if it’s annoying that it runs counter to her purposes (but there’s also—-part of bev thinks maybe, someone who can be private with themselves can have some integrity with others, but then there’s another part of her, those self-preservation instincts honed from years of not being able to trust… men specifically, but it’s made all trust harder now, and that part is wary, hard-pressed to give people the benefit of the doubt, not when it comes to her and her friends)

jemma: “bev is like “why don’t you have instagram” and patty’s like “this isnt you interviewing me, this is me interviewing you. please pass the maple syrup, my pancakes are dry as fuck"”

(it starts at a kitschy diner (jem’s idea) bc like, well, there are seven of them. like. that’s too many. but they’re probs not all at the diner, maybe just bev, stan, mike & eddie (deliberate choices from bev, given how she couldn’t find too much on patty—-some good testimonials that convinced her to give the interview anyway, even if patty works for a buzzfeet analogue, bev has less personal hang-ups with them than stan does, even though she loyally disavows them with him—-and she trusts stan and mike to hold their own, and while eddie can be a wild card (it’s not wild, she thinks, not really, because it doesn’t come out of nowhere. it’s just that he’s brave and good and loyal and principled, like he’d have her back, have all of their backs, and wouldn’t let anything slide he wasn’t okay with), she’d rather have that inability to back down at her side when their words and image are on the line than some of the impulsive nonsense richie and bill pull, and ben has a tendency to be too earnest, too quick, and if bev wants to be careful, be sure, before exposing ben’s heart and sentiment and big fucking eyes to that, well, sue her) but then patty is interviewing them, and she’s thoughtful, questioning without being probing, framing things in interesting ways that keeps them talking, keeps them interested, and bev’s already halfway to inviting patty back to the clubhouse (their studio) where the others are when stan, like, references some swedish poet whose translated works he was reading when he and mike wrote one of their songs, and patty, like, gets it? and works tomas tranströmer into her next question, and stan’s expression is just. and he glances at mike, and mike grins (bev doesn’t even know why stan bothered. mike’s clearly thought well of patty the entire time), and stan cocks an eyebrow at bev, and she almost can’t believe it, bc since when does stan ever want to allow interviewers more access? but it’s stan, and he never asks, and so of course she turns to patty, and asks: “got a couple more hours?”)

@chaoticbisexualalien: “pre-meeting stan journalist!pat on twitter giving their album a four-star review but singling him out as exceptional and then a bitter fan is like "oh did he eat you out for that review” and she’s like “I would have given them five stars for that"”

@striffyisme: “omg,,,, the fans start calling her Petty Patty for her excellent clap backs”

britt: “stan sees it and doesn’t get involved directly because he doesn’t want to fan the flames but he admires her from afar and then later on he finds out that she’s interviewing the band and he’s like ”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!“ inside”

alex: “stan, instantly in love and adoring from afar, patty falling for him as she gets to know him, everyone outside the band thinking it was the other way around lmao”

which, yeah, bc when the others catch on, they realise… patty working for a b/zzfeet analogue isn’t a speed bump for patstanlon to overcome, but rather just something stan was holding onto as like, a reminder to himself that ‘objectively she’s not perfect, and the only perfect person in this world is probably mike hanlon, be quiet rich’ but he’s wrong! she’s perfect too! he knows two perfect people! and by the time she’s gotten a job offer for her frankly thoroughly fucking excellent article abt shark puppy and has quit her job at the buzzfeet analogue, he’s pretty much forgotten about that hang-up until she’s like, “god i’m glad i have an actual adult workplace now” and mike laughs and stan feels his heart grow three sizes in his chest

@dykeeddie: “Okay I’m just gonna say it if she’s working at a b*zzfeed analogue for any period of timeShark Puppy Styles Me For A Week… there are 7 of them it’s the only way”

anyway the article is fucking bomb, everyone stan patty blum, and it blows the conservative scathing review sky high into a void of irrelevance

(at the clubhouse, patty makes such an expression at one of bill’s lyrics that richie actually chokes on his coke from laughter)

#shark puppy #patricia blum #beverly marsh #stanley uris #god i've been typing this for hrs i suck at answering asks it's fucking 5am #also the b/zzfeet analogue idea came totally from that ten long yrs of trying to make armie hammer happen article lmao #answered #Anonymous #long post //

[voidgremlin]

An Oath to Hope (Chapter 6)

Chapter 6: Dear Diary, Today I think the stars went out.

Dear Diary,

Today I told my parents that I didn’t liked the sheep. They are smelly, they are loud and they annoy me. [Drawings of flowers]

Dear Diary,

Today I prepared my bag and re-told my parents that I didn’t liked the sheep, I called mean auntie Sharon to ask if she was ok with me being at Leadworth with her. She said nothing. But that’s not a no. [Drawing of Amy with orange hair inside a car passing by a sign named Leadworth]

Dear Diary,

Mom and Dad don’t like the idea of letting me go to town, they say they don’t mind driving me to school for hours. But I mind a lot ! I HATE THE SHEEPS !!!! [Drawings of sheep being crossed out]. 

Amelia Jessica “Amy” Pond is a kid that would make most parent proud. Bright mind under layer of passion and anger and at the core: poetry but of course no parents would be able to describe their own children with such clarity. To them, she is a kid that never caused much trouble and was helpful at the farm and slaughterhouse that the Ponds owned. Despite her many many attempts to tell them she hated it here, or the fact that all she wanted was to leave and her tantrums. To Augustus and Tabetha Pond, all is well in the best of the world. Parenthood is a difficult thing to be, but the Ponds were not trying that hard.

Amy is small kid who rather be close to friends than isolated and she understood that very quickly: she didn’t wanted to be alone and her family wasn’t good enough expect the sheep, they were good but smelly. So she provoked her transfer to Leadworth, it was long and difficult, she didn’t even liked her aunt. She wasn’t … Evil but had the special brand of Pond’s care. But in her head she will be close to school, close to friends and she won’t be alone anymore. So it was worth the argument. In the end it was the call of Sharon who begged her parents to make her stop calling her home and be done with it that changed their mind. If Amy could hear the tone of her aunt she would understand why the hell, the next day, her baggage’s were packed and she was off the Pond’s property.

The goodbye were short and curt, they told her that she could come back any time, even for tea.

The Hellos were as well, curt and short. Her aunt gave her a nod before showing an empty and bare room. Letting her installing herself on her own.

She was 9 years old.

And more maturity than her pairs.

First, she tried to go back to her parents each weekend but they never could go pick her up so she found alternative ways that required many buses. It was tiring but more than that was the fact that home was still awful. Her parents were busy, the cattle loud and her alone.

After a few weeks the going didn’t make any sense anymore. She stopped, and through the daily calls it didn’t seemed like they noticed her absence. But her aunt noticed her presence in the house.

“Is there nothing to keep you occupied those days ?” she said during the first holidays they had together clearly annoyed of someone being in her space during her little free time. Amelia doesn’t think she answered that day but it didn’t stopped her aunt to take action about it.

She hired a babysitter.

Well she hired the neighbor’s kid and asked him if for a few bucks he would like to play with her Amelia. The floppy haired kid who is dressed like Sharon’s grandpa, didn’t knew any better and wanted the money to do crazy and stupid stuff to his moms’ demise. He accepted and showed up the next day in front of Amelia’s door.

Which led to a lot of screaming because one, he showed up in front of Amy’s bedroom door at 6 a.m. on a rainy Sunday where all Amy’s wished was to sleep in peace. Two, he is a weirdo. Three, he was two years younger than her.

“Aunt Sharon ! What do you mean a babysitter !! He is seven ! I could be his big sister ! What the hell auntie !”

“Language young lady and he is your babysitter because I said so. You better not bother me anymore, I have a paper to write.” She snapped back closing the door in front of the two kids. Who awkwardly stayed still in silence before the door open again and aunt Sharon showed up, money in her hand addressing herself to kid in suspenders. “Here Alexander, watch over her would you. And you Amelia do not call me auntie again, it’s silly.”

Before the kid could answer a thanks, the door closed again with force and Alexander turned himself to Amelia who was shaking in anger.

“You… You can call me auntie if you want.” He said smiling at her.

She doesn’t know if it was because it was kind, or because he was the kid next door who keeps waving at her hello, but she didn’t snapped back. Instead she asked him to come to the kitchen, she wanted a good breakfast and he told her that he knew the recipes for the most greatest one, his words.

The breakfast he proposed, gave the young girl fear for her and the kid’s sake. Who eats fish fingers and custard in this world ?

“Are you from this world ?” Amy asked.

“Nope ! My mothers got me from somewhere else. I don’t where though.” He said thoughtful before beaming up “They told me they would tell me at my next birthday if I want ! I’m just not sure to want to know. What if they say I’m from the moon ?”

She smiles “ Alright moon boy, what do you mean by that ?”

“I’m adopted.”

“Oh !”

“But I am totally able to babysit you ! I already know how to read already and algebra !”

“Algebra… Wow. Doesn’t make you able to guard me.”

“Your ‘auntie’ thought it does.”

Amy let out a groan before digging back to her toast.

The ‘babysitting’ was meant to be for only a few days, the holidays, Amy said so, and it was nice to have someone to talk to and have fun with. Even if it a weirdo whose holiday project was to built a jiggily timey, aka a toaster that wake you with breakfast ready. It never worked but it was funny to try. Amy’s project was to write more in her diary but it was difficult with Alexander who was always requiring her time.

The holidays over, the kid kept showing up, after school showing her what he did and telling her how bored he was. He told her about nightmares he sometimes have, his stupid fear of being afraid that she couldn’t see him anymore.

How could she forget such a good and wonderful boy.

He listened to Amy’s calls and offered her cake for his mom when she was sad. Gradually Amy found herself into the boy’s home more often than not. The Songs where lovely, making a place for Amy’s at each dinner, if she ever needed to crash in there. Listened to her story and displayed her drawings in the kitchen. The Ponds got quickly the knowledge of the young boy who was all over their child’s life.  And their only reaction was to ask the size of the little one to knit him a sweater.

Also there’s sheep named Amy in farm. Family’s pet.

Amelia hearing the news took it very well, spreading the news with a grin.

“I got a little sister !” She says under the worried eyes of the Songs. She was hurt of course, she was hurt. She felt like she needed to be a sheep to be accepted in this crazy family. But she chose to not care to much. She was here. She was happy and she got her moon boy.

Dear Diary,

Today, Rory stayed with me all night for the studying. He stayed to read my writing. I think he liked my stories I have written. Even told me I should publish it. I think I am gonna marry this man.

She met Rory. Beautiful and smiling Rory, who wanted to help people. Wonderful and kind Rory, who despise it all was here.  Childhood was long over and she didn’t even saw him, in all her weirdness. She knew in retrospect that Rory did followed her around since the beginning but … She didn’t saw. It didn’t made her a bad person. Does it ?

Rory gave some stability, because to be honest Moon Boy was anything but stable, he gave up very early school and kept doing odds job, even introduced Amy to the job of kissogram. His house was a mess of trinkets and half assed invention and way too many times the fire alarm went on.

Rory was showing up everyday with a smile and asking the question of how she was doing. Rory was making sure she had a meal and a kiss on the cheek every day. He helped her with sending letters to different publishers for her books, helped her rewrite when needed through sleepless nights, he rewrote for her even when she gave up with his stale, matter of fact style of writing and... He didn’t stopped even when he started to be a nurse.

She loved him.

Amy was blessed she thought, maybe it was the sheep, maybe it was luck.

But even as an author, she didn’t think of a lot of things to say when went down on one knee showing him the ring that Alexander begged to make. He looked at her with those sweet eyes. And all she said was:

“Hey wanna spend the rest of your silly life with me ?”

The gasp that moon boy made was enough for both of them to watch him being all emotional about their moment, it made her add.

“And him, because Alex and I we are a weird package deal.”

He only laugh before kneeling in front of her and kissing her.

I guess that was yes.

#dw #doctor who fanfic #an oath to hope #amy pond #rory williams #my stuff