#I usually icon at night after work so I'll get at least some of these for you in the next few days :)

[lieslmakesthings]

heyy, your tumblr is so useful to me as a roleplayer! thank you for your work, it's so nice of you. i was wondering if you could, please, do some base icons of blanca suárez in las chicas del cable? if not, understandable and thank you <3

hey there! you're welcome, I'm glad you find it useful! as an rper myself I try to make all of the resources I make for myself or friends available to everyone -- especially underused fcs like Blanca. typically I just icon material that fits the vibe I use an actor for (or a friend does, if I'm making base icons for them) but since you asked, and I love that show, and am thrilled to see someone else using Blanca for a fc, sure thing! if you have a season/episode(s)/plot arc preference that you'd especially love icons for, let me know, otherwise I'll just try to do a variety across the show.

[petrichor-idyllic]

2. Reader and Minho liked each other but noone had time to explore the feelings. But when Minho gets back from that night with Thomas in the maze the reader is so happy hes still alive and there is some tension building up...later on the keepers meeting (book scene) where Minho is a total hottie and says the most iconic stuff as usual reader cant help herself and once the meeting is over she suddenly kisses him.

This is a request from an anonymous user that asked for two in one, so I've had to separate them, and I'm bad at tumblr, but I'll post them at the same time to make them easier to find.

I actually whipped my copy of the book out to pull direct quotes from it. This was effort. Also, yes I know Chuck isn't there because he's the one that tells them about Alby, but this isn't here for accuracy points (I may or may not have also written the whole thing before noticing this myself but shhhh)

BEYOND THE OTHER SIDE

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Book based fic. Fem!Reader.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, some suggestive themes but under spice because of one slightly heated make out session.

"You're still here?" You don't even bother looking up to see that it's Newt. You're sat in front of the Doors with your legs crossed, Chuck using your thigh as a pillow as you told the boy to get some sleep, even if he refused to leave your side.

"What does it look like?" The British boy sighs, rubbing your shoulder.

"You know they're not coming back, right?"

You shoot him a glare, "Don't say that- if anyone can survive out there, it's Minho."

The last twenty-four hours have been a blur. First, Minho found a 'dead' Griever, resulting in a expedition for him and Alby to go check it out.

As far as you can tell, that thing definitely wasn't dead. That much was obvious when Minho came around the corner carrying an unconscious Alby.

Every part of your body was screaming to go in there and save them- help them- anything you could think of.

But Thomas beat you to it.

It had been a weird enough week as it was with another girl showing up a day after Thomas and the Box refusing to go back down, but this was definitely the hardest blow.

Now three of them, two of the most important people in the Glade, were stuck out there.

You would be lying if you weren't playing favourites.

You and Minho have an interesting relationship, to say the least. He helped you out when you first showed up in the Box. He taught you how to defend yourself and did a good job at keeping the other boys away from you. He's surprisingly emotionally intelligent and offers an understanding to your feelings of isolation that the other Gladers can't seem to grasp. It doesn't help that he's gorgeous and kind of funny.

All of this resulting in you crushing on him. Hard.

And the feeling is mutual.

And you both know it.

After a drunken confession (and make-out session) during one of the Bonfire nights, you both decided to just be friends. After all, maintaining a relationship in the Glade isn't an easy task, and it's key for Minho to focus on his work above everything.

So, you've both been pushing your feelings for each other down in favour of the greater good.

The sexual tension has been killing you, and him, especially when you've had a bit too much to drink and he keeps looking at you like that.

But this is painful. He's gone. He could be dead and you'd never see him again. Never having fulfilled your promises of a relationship once you both escape.

You've been sitting there all night. Both you and Chuck. Chuck for Thomas, you for Minho. Some early risers sent you both sympathetic glances but it just made you angrier.

You don't need their pity. They're going to be okay. They have to be okay- he has to be.

The rumbling of the Doors startles you, even though you've been expecting it since you sat down.

"Chuck," you lightly shake the boy, causing him to stir from his slumber, "Chuck, wake up. The Doors are opening."

He's groggy, but still eagerly awakes, pulling himself off of you and allowing you to stand up.

Gladers start to gather around as the giant stone entrance prepares itself to settle for the day. You, Chuck and Newt stand at the front of the crowd, Newt's hand still lingering on your shoulder in preparation to comfort you. The blond is far more realistic than you, but he still doesn't want to watch you crumble when the hope fades.

He knows your and Minho's relationship better than anyone else. He hears about it from both sides pretty much daily.

The Doors open painfully slow, almost like they're mocking you.

It reveals an empty corridor. Your jaw tenses, and you ball your fists, trying not to let your emotions take over as you look at the floor. Newt rubs your shoulder, and you can see Chuck anxiously looking at you from the corner of your eye.

It's like all the Gladers hold their breath, waiting to see your response.

But you don't get the chance to.

"No shuckin' way," your eyes flicker up to Newt, who is staring straight ahead. You follow his gaze, watching as Minho and Thomas stumble down the stretch of concrete.

"Minho!" Your voice is scratchy and you lose all care for the rules. Rushing forward, the Runner seems to be in far better condition than the Greenie, who looks like he's seen the Devil himself.

Your feet move beneath you, diving into Minho's arms. "Woah, easy, girly," he scoffs, but his muscular arms come around you. The hug is tight and full of enough emotion to show you how terrified he was.

He's alive. Oh my God, he's alive.

"Uh, this is sweet and all, but we need to get Alby down," Thomas interrupts. You pull away from Minho.

"He's still alive?"

"He better shuckin' be," Minho sounds like he's had quite the night. "Where even is he?"

"Come on- help us!" Thimas rushes to the wall by the Doors. To your surprise, Alby is strung several feet above the air, tangled to the wall with Ivy.

"How the..." You meet Newt's equal look of disbelief, but you all get to work helping your Leader down.

Thomas and Minho basically pass out the second they get to the Med-jack's hut. You let them. The next day is about to be interesting and they both need to rest.

The Gladers are already thinking about what this all means and with the revelation that Thomas had somehow killed THREE Grievers, the Glade is in some kind of uproar.

Some people are worshipping the ground that he walks on, and others want him burned at the stake. Gally is the chancellor of the latter crowd.

Alby's got the serum, so there's a ray of hope yet. But Thomas broke the rules.

Obviously, you're of the belief that Thomas has done a good thing. Alby and Minho might not have survived if it weren't for him- how could he possibly be punished for all of this?

Thankfully, that seems to be the majority opinion. But with Newt in charge and a hatred of the poor constructed democracy of the Glade, it's hard to say what will happen.

Which is why when it came to the Gathering regarding Thomas's existence in the Glade, you're stood right outside with Chuck, not so subtly eavesdropping in.

Nearly all of the Keepers came up in a group together- "veterans" as they call themselves. So, there's not much chance of you becoming a Keeper. But now you wish you were.

"What do you think they're-?"

"Shh, Chuck," you snap at the boy, hushing him as you try to make out something audible enough to gain information from.

The general chattering seems to be pretty pointless. It's just people saying the same shit everyone's been saying since the trio returned.

It doesn't take long for silence to settle, and for Newt to give the introductory speech that he is no doubt rolling his eyes about. The Keepers each take it in turn to state their opinions, thankfully most of them siding with Thomas.

Gally then has about a forty page essay on how Thomas is the spawn of Satan until Newt finally speaks again, "With no more words from Gally- go ahead, last but not least."

Minho's distinct voice fills the room. "I was out there; I saw what this guy did- he stayed strong while I turned into a panty-wearin' chicken. No blabbin' on and on like Gally. I want to say my recommendation and be done with it."

"Good that," Newt almost seems relived. "Tell us then."

"I nominate this shank to replace me as Keeper of the Runners."

You and Chuck look at each other as silence consumes the inside of the room. Both of you wear expressions of disbelief, looking at one another to assure that you actually heard that correctly.

Unsurprisingly, Gally spoke first, screaming about how Minho should lose his spot on the Council for even suggesting such a thing.

Then chaos erupts as Newt desperately tries to calm down the boys.

"Shuck it," you really do pity Newt. He somehow got swept into everyone's bullshit and the man just wants to grow his plants. "I've never seen so many shanks acting like tit-suckin' babies. We may not look it, but around these parts we're adults. Act like it or we'll disband this bloody Council and start from scratch." A beat skips as Newt seems to compose himself, "Are we clear?"

The quiet from beyond the door tells you that they've all gotten the hint.

"Good that." Newt continues, before he seems to address Minho. "That's some pretty serious klunk, brother. Sorry, but you need to talk it up to move it forward."

You and Chuck exchange another round of stunned glances. Newt's actually considering this?

There's no way. This isn't adding up. Minho would never give up his job- he's too good at it. And you've seen him injured and on prescribed rest. He hates it. The boy can't sit still for two seconds, even when he is in the Glade. If he were to just become a normal Runner, Minho would still be far too overqualified for the gig.

"It's easy for you shanks to sit here and talk about something you're stupid on. I'm the only Runner in this group and the only other one here who's even been out in the Maze is Newt." Minho sounds frustrated and still tired.

A bad mix, to be sure.

So, of course, Gally has to open his mouth. "Not if you count the time I-"

"I don't!" Minho shouts suddenly, making Chuck jump away from the door, but you don't move. Minho's playing a game here- you just know he is.

"And believe me, you or nobody else has the slightest clue what it's like to be out there. The only reason you were stung is because you broke the same rule you're blaming Thomas for. That's called hypocrisy, you shuck-faced piece of-"

"Enough," you're actually kind of disappointed Newt shut him down. It's about time someone shouted at Gally and just hearing Minho do it is making you feel some kind of way. "Defend your proposal and be done with it."

Minho takes a second before picking up again.

"Anyway, listen to me. I've never seen anything like it. He didn't panic. He didn't whine and cry, never seemed scared. Dude, he'd been here for just a few days. Think about what we were all like in the beginning. Huddling in corners, disoriented, crying every hour, not trusting anybody, refusing to do anything. We were all like that, for weeks or months, 'till we had no choice but to shuck it up and live. Just a few days after this guy shows up, he steps out in the Maze to save two shanks he hardly knows. All this klunk about him breaking a rule is just beyond stupid. He didn't get the rules yet. But plenty of people had told him what it's like in the Maze, especially at night. And he still stepped out there, just as the Door was closing, only caring that two people needed help."

You don't think you've ever heard Minho be this passionate about anything. It's definitely only adding to your liking of him, and hearing him agree with you with such determination is making your heart rate increase.

"But that was just the beginning. After that, he saw me give up on Alby, leave him for dead. And I was the veteran- the one with all the experience and knowledge. So when Thomas saw me give up, he shouldn't have questioned it. But he did. Think about the willpower and strength it took to push Alby up that wall, centimetre by centimetre. It's psycho. It's freaking crazy."

He seems to take a breath before continuing even further.

"But that wasn't it. Then came the Grievers. I told Thomas we had to split up and I started the practised evasive manoeuvers, running in the patterns. Thomas, when he should've been wettin' his pants, took control, defied all laws of physics and gravity to get Alby up onto that wall, diverted the Grievers away from him, beat one off, found-"

"We get the point," Gally stops, halting Minho's actually quite enthralling retelling of the events. "Tommy here is a lucky shank."

"No," Minho sounds completely furious, "you worthless shuck, you don't get it! I've been here two years, and I've never seen anything like it. For you to say anything..." He trails off, followed by a loud groan of frustration.

You feel angry for him. He's right, you don't get it- you've never had to experience the horrors of the Maze and Minho does it literally every single day. How can Gally even think he has a leg to stand on?

"Gally," he's suddenly scarily calm, "you're nothing but a sissy who has never, not once, asked to be a Runner or tried out for it. You don't have the right to talk about things you don't understand. So shut your mouth."

"Say one more thing like that," you can imagine spit flying from Gally's mouth as he throws the words at your future boyfriend, "and I'll break your neck, right here in front of everyone."

"Great," Chuck mumbles, "we're already at death threats." You shush him again.

Minho laughs.

A sound that sends shivers down your spine. Probably because you can tell what's about to happen.

There's a loud slapping sound. It's followed by the noises of chairs crashing and breaking and several loud, incoherent shouts.

"I swear, Gally," Minho's voice rings above the commotion, "don't ever threaten me again. Don't ever speak to me again. Ever. If you do, I'll break your shuck neck, right after I'm done with your arms and legs."

Damn.

That was hot.

Should that be hot? Do you have some interesting problems?

Probably, yes, but that can he dealt with at a later date.

"Holy shit," you murmur, Chuck humming in shocked agreement.

There's a lot more shuffling and arguing, but unfortunately, Gally decides to talk even more.

"Things are different now. You shouldn't have done that, Minho. You should not have done that. I know you hate me, that you've always hated me. You should be Banished for your embarrassing inability to lead this group." You're assuming that this is directed at Newt. "You're shameful, and any one of you who stays here is no better. Things are going to change. This I promise."

Well, that's... ominous.

"And you, the Greenbean who thinks he's friggin' God. Don't forget I've seen you before- I've been through the Changing. What these guys decide doesn't mean jack. Whatever you came for- I swear on my life I'm gonna stop it. Kill you if I have to."

You're quick to grab Chuck, yanking him towards you and out of the way of the door which flies open. Gally looks shook up, clearly Minho did more than just shout at him from his dishevelled clothing and red face. He doesn't even glance at you as he slams the door behind him.

He storms off, leaving you and Chuck to, once again, exchange glances before shrugging it off and returning to your original positions.

The discourse continues, mainly about Gally and the Changing and what it all means, with Frypan pointing out that the guy has obviously lost his mind.

The structure falls apart pretty quick. Newt giving up completely as he makes Thomas speak his piece.

Newt finally makes his judgement.

"Here's my recommendation. You broke our bloody Number One Rule, so you get one day in the Slammer. That's your punishment. I also elect you as a Runner, effective the second this meeting's over. You've proven more in one night than most trainees do in weeks. As for you being the buggin' Keeper, forget it. Gally was right on that count- stupid idea."

You know Minho's playing a game when he argues this. "Why? He's the best we have- I swear it. The best should be the Keeper."

"Fine," Newt just wants to leave at this point, "if that's true, we'll make the change later. Give it a month and see if he proves himself."

"Good that." Minho sounds completely unfazed, almost expectant of this outcome.

The vote commences with everyone agreeing to Newt's terms; even with some queries from Winston. Newt agrees to the proposal of another Gathering if shit hits the fan.

You pull Chuck out of the way again as the door flies open, most of the Keepers in a hurry to leave. Both of you flash them some slightly suspicious, sheepish smiles because you couldn't get away quick enough to play it off.

Thomas and Minho head out, leaving Newt in the Gathering room but they continue talking in the doorway.

"Keeper?" Thomas questions, yet to notice you. "You want me to be a Keeper? You're nuttier than Gally by a long shot."

Minho fakes an evil grin. "Worked didn't it? Aim high, hit low." He playfully nudges Thomas, "Thank me later."

Thomas notices Chuck, looking between you and the boy, who speaks. "That sounded like a real klunk show."

Thomas scoffs, playfully shoving the younger kid.

Jeff suddenly comes running over, stuttering over something about Alby wanting to talk to Thomas, which peaks Newt's attention, and he shoots out of the room, grabbing Thomas and dragging them in the direction of Alby. Chuck follows, probably to take part in some more eavesdropping.

You're definitely not the best influence.

"That was quite the trick, Keeper," you exaggerate the 'Keeper', causing Minho to grin at you as you casually lean against the wall, finally gaining his attention.

"You're one to talk- you could get time in the Slammer for listening in on private affairs."

"You knew I was here?"

"'Course I did- I always know where you are. Can't afford not to." You roll your eyes. Of course, he noticed you were there- he's too perceptive not to.

You take a moment to admire him. Despite getting in a fight and shouting his lungs out, Minho looks as perfect as always. And the things he said and how he acted so in control and determined makes you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"What?" His voice becomes considerably lower. "You know you can't look at me like-"

In an instant, you stand up straight, grabbing his shirt with some force and yanking him towards you. He makes no effort to protest as you press your lips against his.

It's just a peck, but you're now very aware that this breaks the set of boundaries you'd both set.

"Shit," you whisper, "fuck, I forgot."

He lets out a low chuckle that almost has you squeezing your legs together. "You know, when I was out in the Maze, all I could think about was you."

Your heart skips a beat, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, I just- I have everything I want right in front of me, and I didn't wanna shuck it up. But it took me nearly dying to realise I don't care anymore. This is dumb. I want you- and I can have you. Why wait?"

Your foreheads touch as his words bring tou closer together, noses touching, his eyes fixed on your lips.

"Why are you still waiting then?" That's all the confirmation he needs to ignite the kiss again. He pushes against you, your hands diving into his hair and humming into his mouth as you hit the wall behind you.

He effortlessly holds you in place, pushing his knee between your legs, hands holding your waist. Your lips dance against each other, tongues brushing just in the slightest, showing one another your wants but without taking things too far in such an open place.

"(Y/N)?" He breaks the kiss, panting more than he does after working all day.

"Yeah?"

"Do you, uh, do you wanna be my girlfriend?"

You scoff, taking him by surprise before pecking his lips once again.

"Yes, shucking obviously- I thought you'd never ask."

Wooo, finally finished this piece. It took me a hot minute but here it is. Sorry for any errors or anything, I've not reread it because it is very late but I just had to get this out.

Hope you guys enjoy :)

[thedaddydeath]

The Woods Pt. 1

cw: cnc, knifeplay, stalking, kidnapping This won't be my best work but these ideas were floating in my head. 10 a.m. First day of fall. You are your girlfriends are going to go shopping downtown to get ready for Halloween. The day starts out as it always does, a quick text to the boyfriend to wish him a good morning, he doesn't respond. Usually he's awake by now. You suppose he must've had a rough night at work yesterday. You grab something small to eat so you don't spoil your appetite for lunch with the ladies. Time to get dressed. It's still somewhat warm out so you decide on a pair of thigh high leggings, a ruffled skirt and a crop top. Now for the shoes, it's just a day out with the girls. Nothing special, the black boots will suffice.

As you lace them up you think to yourself, "Why isn't he awake yet? Well I'll send him a picture. He'll enjoy that when he wakes up." It's now nearly noon. The ladies are ready to meet up. As you drive yourself to the mall, the scent of the freshly fallen leaves permeates the air. It's sweet and comforting. As you arrive to the mall you notice Halloween decorations in the windows. The retail season always starts early. Skulls and bats, the normal. Witches and ghouls adorn the walls by the doors. It's adorable, not even the least bit scary. Out of the corner of your eye you notice the girls waving you down, they saved you a spot to park so you'd all be next to each other. After the hugs and pleasantries you all head inside. First stop? Hot Topic, not that it's the same anymore. Too much pop influence these days but they still have the cute clothes you enjoy. But with this time of the year they bring out the horror icons. Ghostface being your favorite, you look for anything you don't already have. There's a POP! Figure of your favorite slasher. "Oh I'm definitely getting this. He's gonna want one too. What should i get him?" You see a Tokyo Ghoul figure he doesn't have. As you head over to it your stomach drops.. this overwhelming uneasiness hits you. You look around and your friends are checking out. Behind them, outside the store you see a shadowy figure. You can't make it out. Your vision is a bit blurry. You walk up to them to buy your items, looking outside again the figure you saw is gone. Maybe it was nothing you think, "I'm hungry girls, i didn't eat much this morning. Where should we go?" You all agree on Chinese food. As you all sit in the Food Court that uneasy feeling persists but you're unsure why. As you look around you don't see anything out of the ordinary. There's some children and teenagers dressed up for the Halloween event they're having later at the mall. As you eat, your phone vibrates. It's a text but you don't recognize the number. "Enjoying yourself?" Weird. You ignore it and go back to talking and laughing with your friends. Another vibration... it's that same number. "Don't you dare ignore me slut." "What the fuck?!" the sudden outburst causes your friends to stop and look at you, they're curious what's going on. "I don't know, this random number is texting me, I have no idea who it is." They question if it's your boyfriend, "No he's still sleeping." They tell you to just ignore, it's probably just some guy pulling a prank. It's a believable excuse. But that feeling in your stomach is getting worse, even after eating. "I'm sorry girls, I think I'm going to head home. I don't feel good and this is just making it worse." You say your goodbyes, grab your things and head back to where you all parked. As you exit the mall, the sun is beating down like it's still summer. The kind of heat that makes you start sweating instantly. This makes you feel worse. "I have to hurry home, maybe I'll stop by his place. It's shorter." The car is just ahead, you look down and start rifling through your clutch to find your car keys. A flash of pain... something hit your head... no that's wrong.. your head was pushed into your car. as you crumple to the ground your body twists to see the sky. Your consciousness wavers. You're about to pass out.. just before everything goes dark you see a figure. A tall figure, wearing all black. A mask covers his face, a demon. Black. Horns. "ᵢ ₜₒₗd yₒᵤ ₙₒₜ ₜₒ ᵢgₙₒᵣₑ ₘₑ, yₒᵤ ₚₐₜₕₑₜᵢc ₛₗᵤₜ" You can't make out the voice. You're too far gone. Everything fades. What now? Part 2 later????? If you want me to continue this, please, reblog it, like it. Tell me. It's not often I write stuff like this so I'm not the greatest but I hope you all enjoy it none the less.

[mute-call]

ok as per usual im gonna dump all my ideas here & figure them out later <3

v; your bell telephone factory : dsaf-fluid factory phone au.

things i Want / need to keep in mind bc i want to use them / also make this unique from his other verses:

he's not the only pg!! i'll go refresh myself on the generations but i think i want him uhhhh peter-esque.......? bro idk i need my dsaf friends to remind me of stuff. basically i want him to have access to his pre-phone memories but not Immediate Complete access

im sorry i refuse to name any pg of mine scott cawthon all my besties hate scott cawthon <3 . but the pg name can be scott gyver in honor of one of my fave canon phone guy designs

blue head. i cant wait to confuse people by using my animatronic icons for non-animatronic verse >:)c

steven should have worked with other pgs in the past when he was human. i think he would have been lowkey scared of them but also never really got in trouble w them. uneasy alliance /lh. steven voice hey my life might suck but at least i dont have a phone for a head! haha. ha. ha

alright down to the details!

i’m thinking he discovers one of the kids’ bodies in the suits if I want to differentiate, or i can steal from dsaf & let him catch William (Henry?) in the act. I think either would work well for him tbh.

additional / alternate idea.... he gets caught during fnaf 2 shit. not a manager at that point (some other pg is). catches william using the suit & gets Done For. previous pg gets scrapped after all that shit goes down & steve comes to look over fnaf 1. it like. goes ok for a while & then the location goes into decline but doesnt technically close so he is just Standing There. <3 . he takes over night shift bc he just fucken lives there basically. has some line about how he's less likely to get his head bit in now that it's plastic so this is the best option for everyone.

im so indecisive about how & when he should die pre-phone. idk man idk. i think this is one of those things i need to develop better in threads / might be flexible & set at diff points thread to thread

pre-phone steve....

drawing from my hcs about him when he was younger, i think pre-phone phoney was SO bright & cheerful & nicies...

really good with the kids. excited about his first real job to support his family. not yet beaten down by fnaf-slash-dsaf shenanigans

i guess he'd die younger than 30 in this unless he gets phone-ified after his canon death point but that doesnt make much sense. so. itty bitty phone. youngun.

post-phone scott....

i am SO into the idea that he's never fired anyone. pushover of a phone!!!

he & peter can share their fake little photo of a completely different phone guy w a completely different family /lh. pg's so excited to have kids :) . he talks about them all the time! please stop telling him they dont exist!!!

partially to differentiate from animatronic verses & partially to bring in his fnaf 1 characterization i think he's pretty chill as far as pgs go. like he'll ask you to stop screwing stuff up but he'll also just shrug and leave if you tell him to shut up about it T_T . very difficult to rile up.

i think one benefit of phoneification for him was removing his guilt about jeremy where applicable. i think i am leaning more towards steve being human for that game, and the bite of '87 stuff being a real turning point for him in terms of . everything. (but blue, wouldnt it make more sense for him to die BEFORE the bite? yes. <3 and yet /lh).

i think he & jeremy would have been closer if he hadn't been manager + everything that happened there fucked him up severely. luckily, as a phone, he doesnt feel much about it at all!

is there anything im missing..... idk more to come. etc.

[six-improbable-things]

Been watching The Fall of the House of Usher, and I have uh... mixed feelings. I think it's because this is the first horror media I've ever actually watched. But um, they did manage to hit on basically all of my (not many) fears over the course of like, 2 episodes.

Spoilers for episodes 1-4 under the cut. TW for discussion of murder, animal death, and general horror themes?? Also, please no spoilers for episodes 5 and beyond!!

My pets dying

Getting mauled by a chimp (yes, I'm afraid of chimps. No, I'm not afraid of literally any other animal. It's been a thing for YEARS now.)

Not a Major Plot Thing, but also just... injections and needles.

On the other hand, I'm living for the Poe references. Like, Madeline using The Cask of Amontillado in her little "pep talk" to Roderick. The fact that there's an in-universe reason it's called Rue Morgue. (Plus the fact that the murderer was an ape remains unchanged...) The raven... I'm excited to see what becomes of Goldbug and (hopefully) The Tell-Tale Heart. (I know Goldbug is a thing, obviously, since that's mentioned from the first episode, but idk for sure about Tell-Tale Heart. I just assume that it must be because it's one of his most iconic stories.)

Also... Verna (if that's really her name) is killing me. I'm fascinated by her. It took me until the end of the 3rd episode to realize that she was also the Red Mask, and I wouldn't have figured it out if not for the fact that the characters starting piecing it together. (I'm awful with faces, I'm sorry. I think Juno(?) looks too similar to Verna's og appearance in the bar.) (As a side note, I'm also awful with names, and I usually have only just barely learned a character's name when they die, lmao.) At first I thought she had some kind of personal grudge against Roderick and Madeline, but then she told Camille that it was "nothing personal" which would be a lie, even if her beef was with Roderick. So idk. Maybe she's just some kind of "punisher of the wicked". (In which case it wouldn't be personal, it would just be paying a price / doing a job.) Since you know, she met Roderick and Madeline the night they clearly did something Not Great. (Potentially killed/framed Gris?) But also maybe Roderick and Madeline just stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. When they first met her, Verna said the bar was a midnight place, if only for the night. And Roderick and Madeline remarked that the bar seemed oddly uncrowded. (Not to mention that it was nonexistent when Madeline went back in present times.) So maybe they just stumbled into a trap laid for anyone, or maybe it was a trap specifically laid for them. I guess I'll find out!

I don't really like horror media, and I don't see myself watching more after this. (The only reason I decided to watch this show was because I enjoyed reading Poe's works in school, and I was intrigued to see how it would all fit together into a show set in modern times.)

But I am very intrigued to see where this all ends up. And to see how Roderick got from passed out on the sidewalk with blood pouring out of his nose to in his ruined childhood home with Something down in the basement... (I don't think it's actually Madeline, at least not normal, not dead or otherwise fucked up Madeline...)

[guvato]

Tamalog Day 28

Like Every saturday the day was pretty short and simple, i woke up by 8AM to check up on everybody and call their Sitters, and when everyone was doing good i just went back to sleep until 1PM.

Waking up i picked decided to go for a 1 at a time approach when picking everybody up from their Sitters. First it was Tuyopitchi, who was a bit hungry and bored at the time, but i made sure to feed her and buy more food since our fridge wasn't as stocked as i thought, i petted her the best pets ever, which she loved and then just let her be for the time being. Next up was Mokumokutchi who immediatly after getting picked up turned into Mokokotchi, which was nice to see him again since before Ginjirotchi, Mokokotchi ate a lot of Bagels along with some California Rolls that we cooked as yesterday's daily meal cooked. We went together for a stroll in the park and played some of the Balloons game for a fairly good amount of cash and happiness points, however, i also gave him a lot of sweets which in turn caused him to have tooth ache, and i felt so sorry for the little guy, i honestly got so desperate i tried using the bathroom option to help him lol. Picochutchi was the last one to be picked up and was doing great, she ate some Somen Noodles, went into the TamaVerse and just enjoyed the day, we didn't do much, but i think i should try Tama Walking once per day even though i'm not the go outside and walk type of guy y'know? She also got dirty during the afternoon and when i gave her a bath we finally got the second Care Icon for bathing Tamas, so it's going pretty good, and reminded me that i still have them as goals to reach along with the Stickers in Tama Searching.

At night we did the usual, not much care was needed for nobody since i always keep em fed and happy, so i just did my thing and was happy to enjoy the night. Momokotchi as per usual went to bed first, and not long after it was time for Tuyopitchi to ask me for help to fall asleep, and we never fail those so help her i did. Picochutchi was the last one to fall asleep and i actually got to see her barely able to keep her eyes open from being sleepy, which happens idk, only at 9:45PM or something? Idk, but it's pretty cute. When it hit 10PM, Picochutchi went to bed, finishing once another Tama Day for us.

Second Tamalog written on my phone and it's not so bad, but the computer helped me a lot getting these done, but if i can work on these than i can't complain. Slept at 11PM last night so that's why i am writing this at basically 7AM lol, i'm getting beaten pretty bad i'll tell ya, but at least i got my Tamas and my cat to keep me company. Thanks for reading, hopefully i'll see you tomorrow. Good Night <3

[dellinah]

I made a new icon after 84 years bc I needed to vent I guess

It doesn't look THAT different from the old one but at least it's an anthro one which I've wanted for forever since that's usually how I imagine/portray Talita as she is literally me and unfortunately I'm a human instead of being a little fox with no care in the world LIKE I SHOULD HAVE BEEN

But instead I'm here worrying about burnout depression and my future so if you're only here for the furry art fair enough ill keep the rant in a read more

Anyway hi

I have absolutely not been doing well these past few weeks and I'd say some moments might have been close to being some of the worst in my life but I am so jaded by previous experiences that I barely notice how bad it's affecting me until it hits me at 3am and I can't sleep and I just realized I'm in it DEEP which makes me freak out even more

Apparently my way of coping with life and issues is ignoring them until the last minute and just repress the SHIT out of it until it hits me in the face (peak 'this is fine' dog meme) and that isn't working anymore bc now I am an adult whose actions have consequences

I have so much school stuff to catch up on bc I stalled a whole month that short of spending hours on end at it for the next month I don't see how I can catch up in time but my mental health does not allow that as I have been sleeping 15 hours a day and staying up all night and I am scared shitless of not making it bc I'm supposed to graduate soon so FUCK and i barely know how to start. I feel so dumb and left behind while everyone seems to have their shit put together and i canr ask for help without feeling like a parasite or like they'll judge me for it

I also have no idea what I want to do or how to go about life once I am graduated (if i graduate) and i hate it bc I am so godamn lost and I have like 2 months to figure it out

My mother has covid for the 3rd time somehow which means another wave of covid has been going on in my family but I guess I avoided that but I cant see them for a while and I also lost a 3rd person I loved and cared about to it a while back and I haven't even cried yet bc once again Im ignoring and repressing it

I had to take 2 shots at the same time for covid and influenza which knocked me out for 3 days straight and made me miss yet more school stuff and I haven't eaten an actual meal since bc I'm not awake most of the day anyway

My meds for anxiety and depression have started to have side effects after 5 or so years so fuck me i guess bc i gotta get them replaced which means a lot of trial and error and i dont have time for that rn bc once again im late as shit

I just feel like I'm falling apart and no one really knows or sees it bc I'm the one that everyone in the family goes to when there's a crisis and I kinda just wanna keep it that way but also I kinda just wanna break down sometimes too yknow but if I do then who will literally solve every problem they have bc they refuse to go to therapy and apparently nobody else can help them with anything it has to be me even when I'm busy otherwise I'm an ungrateful child

There's this weird paradox where everyone in the family sees me as immature and irresponsible and a liar but they also come to me for help and support bc GOD FORBID someone else helps them so I just dont wanna give them more reasons to see me as immature but keeping that image that everything is fine is HARD when I'm on the verge of giving up

Other than that I also have just been reflecting on past events in my life and I feel so bad about some of them. I had so many good friends that I lost bc we grew apart and I had some I lost bc I was a shitty person and I never got to apologize and I know I'll just always miss them. I was at such a good place mentally between 2013-2015 and I miss those times that I can never go back to. I was doing so well in 2018-2020 too before the pandemic wrecked it and now Im just so nostalgic for those times and I can't help but feel like I'm just gonna get worse and worse after so much lost time

But that's ok. I think it's going to be ok. I just need to kick my own ass

It's just a lot of damage control and getting over stuff even though it feels like days just pass by and I can't deal with it

So I sat down and drew this in a few hours bc I just wanted to finish something I started for once. I was happier with it before but I think it looks ok and it helped me figure out what I wanna change in my furry designs. and I guess I wanted to put myself in a sunny sunset where I'm just happy with nothing to worry about, yknow? If i cant be happy at least talita can

Hope days like that can come again soon. Problem is that it only depends on me. So... shiiiit

[katedrakeohd]

A Very Merry Birthday (5)

[Masterlist]

Hey let's make this a wacky drabble. This week's prompt #80 Stop looking at me like that

Word count: 2000

Cast of characters: Drake, Kate, Preston Davis. (OC)

Rated PG: talk of mature themes, sexual innuendo

Tagging:

@wackydrabbles @darley1101 @sfb123 @mom2000aggie @fluffyfirewhiskey @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @kingliam2019 @no-one-u-know @nikkis1983 @glaimtruelovealways @texaskitten30 @bbrandy2002 @marshmallowsandfire

..

After exiting the stairway, Drake and Kate make their way down the hall to their room. He looked at her nervously as he dug into his pocket for his room key, "Are we really going through with this threesome thing?"

When they arrive at their door, Kate steps in front of Drake. Cupping his face in her hands she pulls him in for a kiss, her voice low, "Yes, we are. I'm only going to turn 27 once and I want it to be special." 

Drake smirks against her mouth and mumbles as their kisses continue, "What's so special about turning 27?"

Kate caresses the back of his neck and runs her fingers through his hair, "Nothing really, but do you know what?"

"Hmm?"

Kate runs the pad of her thumb across his bottom lip, and then licks her own. "I can still taste myself on your mouth and I like it."

Drake presses the room key into her hand and with the other hand goes into his jacket, making sure to slide his palm across her breast before retrieving his phone from the inside pocket. 

"You go on into our room, and I'll give Preston a call."

Kate chuckles, "Be nice to him, and please tell him again that I'm sorry for hurting him."

"I will."

…

Preston is sitting up in bed in his underwear and a t-shirt, with a small bag of ice wrapped in a pillowcase nestled against his groin. The pain had pretty much subsided by this point, but he wanted to make sure there was no chance of swelling. This hadn't been his first blow to the nuts, but knowing how it felt didn't make any time it happened again any less painful. 

Beside him on the bed is a half eaten sandwich on a plate that he had ordered from room service. It was still early in the evening and it bothered him to not have anything to do. If they were back home at Valtoria there would still be another two hours in his work shift. Back at home these were prime party hours and he'd have guests to keep tabs on with his usual crew of guards. If it was a quiet evening with no guests, he'd walk the halls and then patrol the perimeter outside and use the time to go over  the next day's sentry and active guard schedule in his head and get some welcome fresh air.

Once a month there would be an evening poker game amongst the senior staffers, which occasionally the Duke would join in on if the Duchess was away, but mostly it was a fun and casual night for the staff to tell funny anecdotes at their employer's expense. 

Tonight, after clicking through the limited channel options on his room's TV, he had resorted to browsing the social media on his phone. Thankfully the hotel had free wifi. Reaching over he grabs the last part of his sandwich and takes a bite, and then another to finish it. Now that his hand was free he shifted the ice pack to the side and gingerly fondled himself through his underwear. The ice had left him temporarily numb, but there didn't seem to be any unusual swelling so he transferred the ice pack over onto his dinner plate. Laying his phone on his chest he planted his hands on the bed and carefully scooted his ass down the bed so he could lie down on his back. With a sigh he folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. 

After a few minutes of studying the crown moulding and lamenting the Ravenhurst's poor choice of wallpaper, he closes his eyes out of boredom. Out in the hallway he can hear the muffled voices of people approaching his room, expecting them to fade as they pass by. But this time they don't. Listening intently he recognizes the low tones of Drake's voice, and the faint inflection of Kate's laughter. So Mr. and Mrs. Smith, or Jones or whatever are back from their dinner date. Hope they had fun. 

There's the click of a door opening and closing and then the muffled footfalls of someone walking away, punctuated by the creek of the wooden floorboards under the carpet. Preston turns his head to look toward the door, curious. Pulling his hand out from behind his head he reaches for his phone before it can slide off his chest.

 …

Drake shoved one hand in his pocket as he paced back and forth in the hallway, looking down at his phone. Of course it had to be the pocket with Kate's panties in it. He bunches them in his fist and sighs in frustration as he picks Preston's name out of his contact folder. How in the hell do I call someone and invite them to be the third person in a sexual situation? Especially when I really don't want him there in the first place? I could lie to her and say that I asked Preston and he declined. Yeah right, Kate's like a human lie detector and would know I'm not telling the truth. 

He presses the message icon on his screen and then stops to lean against the wall. As awkward a conversation this was about to be, it would be better conducted quietly.

The Duke::   Hi Preston, how are you feeling?

There's a brief pause and then Preston responds,

Preston::  I'm doing ok. How can I help you Sir?

The Duke:: I have an unusual request. You're free to decline if you don't feel up to the task.

Preston:: Ok. That's not suspicious at all. 🤔

The Duke:: First some questions. And again you can choose not to answer if you feel they're too personal.

Preston:: Should I be worried? This isn't some dangerous mission is it?

The Duke:: That all depends on how you behave.

Drake grins to himself and rubs his jaw as he waits for Preston to respond. The seconds tick by and then Preston answers.

Preston:: Are you out in the hall?

The Duke:: yes

A few seconds go by and he hears a door open and he looks up to see Preston pop his head out into the hall. 

"Pssst. Over here," he whispers.

Drake pushes away from the wall and tucks his phone into his back pocket. He looks quickly up and down the hall before walking over to Preston's room. He takes in his underdressed state and then grins at him, "You're going to think I'm crazy."

Preston steps back to let Drake step into the room. "Now I'm really curious."

Drake stands in the middle of the room feeling awkward, knowing he still had to ask the questions he had on his mind. Preston gestures toward the chair for Drake to have a seat, but he shakes his head.

"I'd rather stand." I'm too nervous to sit down. "But you might want to sit."

Preston shrugs and then sits down on the end of the bed. "What's on your mind, Sir?"

Drake doesn't know where to start. Just get the personal questions out of the way, you idiot, before you chicken out.

Taking a deep breath in Drake forces himself to push aside his nerves and decides to sit down after all. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and then leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Ok, then. Question one. Are you currently in a relationship?"

Preston's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "Uh, no. But why -...?"

Drake holds his hand up to interrupt him, "Just bear with me and then I'll get to the point."

Preston tilts his head, frowning, but crosses his arms and then waits. 

Drake scratches the back of his head, trying to find the words to ask the questions on his mind before he gets to the invitation from Kate.

"Are..are you straight? Gay? Something else?" Drake stammers, feeling anxious.

Preston can't help but laugh, "Are you asking me out on a date Your Grace?"

"I...just answer the question."

Preston shrugs, noting the nervous bounce of Drake's knee and the way he kept averting his eyes. He also couldn't help but notice that his shirt was half unbuttoned already and his hair was slightly messy. "I'm straight...I guess."

Drake looks up, "You guess? Either you are or you aren't.  Stop looking at me like that."

"Well when you get right down to it, these days when you're lonely enough and looking for that kind of pleasure a hole is a hole. If you understand what I mean? Between two consenting adults of course."

Drake wasn't expecting that kind of answer from Preston, and he's suddenly reminded of his own 27th Birthday. But he had one last question before he mentioned the threesome idea. Taking a deep breath he thought about Kate, and how she was expecting Preston to come back with him.

"Well, if you're thinking straight, I want your honest opinion about something."

Preston wasn't sure where this was going, but this had to be the strangest conversation he'd ever had with any boss he's ever had. Was it even ethical to have this kind of conversation? 

"Ok, sure. What do you want to know?"

"How do you feel about my wife?"

Preston wasn't sure how to answer that sort of question without getting a punch to the face. She'd already slapped him and mashed his nuts with her knee, but being the one to escort her to the restaurant had been exciting to say the least. He wasn't sure if he'd interpreted her suggestion correctly, that he should get handsy with her in order to get Drake's attention, or not. Or perhaps he had gone too far. He was certainly confused as to why Drake would show up in his room and start asking personal questions. He decided to keep his answer as ambiguous as possible.

"She's a beautiful woman, and a man would have to be blind not to desire her."

Drake nods, appreciating his answer, "Go on, I think there's more you want to say."

Preston's eyes narrow and he feels uncomfortable with Drake's tone of voice, "If you're trying to lead me on into admitting something as some sort of trap, I'm not falling for it. I was following her orders…"

Again Drake interrupts, "Yes, I get that. What I really want to know is if you enjoyed touching my wife like that?"

Preston carefully considers his answer. Yes, he had liked being able to touch her. But acting like a total ass had earned him a slap and a knee to the groin, and he knew that wasn't acceptable behavior. Kate didn't deserve to be grabbed like that. She had looked like candy wrapped in a red satin bow, and damn she had smelled like it too. He'd love to be lucky enough to have a woman like that. She would be like a gift, one he could unwrap everyday and never get tired of finding the same thing waiting for him on the inside.

"No, I didn't. K...Mrs. Walker shouldn't be touched that way without permission. It was wrong."

Drake's phone chimes and he checks it. He has a text message from Kate.

Kate:: have you asked him yet?

Drake:: getting there, be patient.

Drake looks up from his phone. "Smart answer. Now how would you like the chance to make it right?"

His phone chimes again. 

Preston chuckles, "What do you mean?"

Kate:: this kitty Kat is getting awfully lonely over here, and with an itch that needs to be scratched. It would be a shame if I had to handle it on my own. 😽😈

"Kate...Mrs. Walker, wants me to invite you over to our room. For some fun."

"What sort of fun?"

Drake's phone chimes again.

Kate:: tick tock, Walker. Are you two coming over to play?

"The naked kind."

Preston laughs, "You're right. I do think you're crazy."

Drake stands up. "Well are you in, or not?"

Preston shrugs, "What the Hell, I'm in."

[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.

[oookaline]

And The Saga Continues

By saga I mean me supervising this 'fake RbbSbb' account on twitter because I want to.

also Im going to separate the posts by day, if anything else happens I'll retweet and add it on this one. Tommorow its a separate post.

If you're intrested to see the first bit (two separate days in a post, one in which I found and then kept retweeting what happened after weeks (?) of not checking on it) (! I do reccomend reading the previous one)

so if you're intrested look up the tag #Fake-RbbSbb in my account.

-

Sooooo as expected our buddy changed his bio to 11, which supports my speculation that it was (obviously) a countdown to Louis' show.

nothing new on the following/pfp/header etc...

They did tweet some things, but I'll touch on that later, first off the likes: It seems they are continuously trying to raise attention towards Rbb (and Rbb only???) being back in two weeks by sending anonymous statements in peoples CCs.

Also they liked this HIV support tweet- and I found that sweet so im also adding it in, because aweareness is key.

aswell as replying back with their usual variation of two emojis:

No sign of Android anywhere, just WebApp™.

Now onto the tweets:

Just like with the 12 they posted yesterday, today they posted an 11. And I got curious to know where abouts they were setting the time to:

If whatever I triod to do here is too complicated (even I dont understand it lmao) basically:

In LA posting time would've been 23:29

In London posting time would've been: 07:29

so if they wanted to (and im speculating this because I did not check) update it on midnight lets say (or close to), then logically the tweet would've come from LA.

Now this thing which then tells us there will be a pattern of when they'll update the countdown

The thing I found weird right, is that they're doing a countdown (supposedly) to Louis' show. So why update on LA time?

Next thing they posted was this:

'Well Meet at the end of the Road' at a first glance you'd guess they're talking about the countdown.

But oh to know who Rudolph Valentino was...

I'll put some intresting quotes I found of him here, you can skip all of this if you want, I'll do a short resume at the end of the indented.

"He was a sex symbol of the 1920s, who was known in Hollywood as the Latin Lover (a title invented for him by Hollywood moguls), The Great Lover, or simply Valentino.[1] His premature death at the age of 31 caused mass hysteria among his fans and further propelled his status as a cultural film icon."

"The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse was released in 1921 and became a commercial and critical success" + "For his follow-up film, they forced him into a bit part in a B-film called Uncharted Seas.(1921)" + "Rambova, Mathis, Ivano, and Valentino began work on the Alla Nazimova film Camille.(1921)" + "Valentino's final film for Metro was the Mathis-penned 'The Conquering Power.(1921) "

thats 4 movies in a year!! Talk about overworked- (depending on how long they were)

"After quitting Metro, Valentino took up with Famous Players-Lasky, forerunner of the present-day Paramount Pictures, a studio known for films that were more commercially focused."

"Jesse L. Lasky intended to capitalize on the star power of Valentino, and cast him in a role that solidified his reputation as the "Latin lover"

"In The Sheik (1921), Valentino played the starring role of Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan. The film was a major success and defined not only his career but his image and legacy."

"Famous Players produced four more feature-length films over the next 15 months" + "His leading role in Moran of the Lady Letty(1922) was of a typical Douglas Fairbanks nature" + "Valentino starred alongside Gloria Swanson in Beyond the Rocks(1922)" + "Valentino began work on another Mathis-penned film, Blood and Sand(1922)" + "During his forced break from Rambova, the pair began working separately on the Mathis-penned The Young Rajah(1922)"

15 months 4 movies. and again I will stress the 'capitalize the star power' over there.

Seems too familiar tbh.

"Missing Rambova, Valentino returned to New York after the release of The Young Rajah. They were spotted and followed by reporters constantly."

*cough* *cough* "spotted"

"During this time, Valentino began to contemplate not returning to Famous Players, although Jesse Lasky already had his next picture, The Spanish Cavalier, in preparation. After speaking with Rambova and his lawyer Arthur Butler Graham, Valentino declared a 'one-man strike' against Famous Players.[31]"

About the lawsuit:

"He was also upset over the broken promise of filming Blood and Sand in Spain, and the failure to shoot the next proposed film in either Spain or at least New York. Valentino had hoped while filming in Europe he could see his family, whom he had not seen in 10 years.[27]"

"In September 1922, he refused to accept paychecks from Famous Players until the dispute was solved, although he owed them money" + "Famous Players, in turn, filed suit against him.[33]"

"Valentino did not back down,[33] and Famous Players realized how much they stood to lose." + "the studio tried to settle by upping his salary" + "Variety erroneously announced the salary increase as a "new contract" before news of the lawsuit was released, and Valentino angrily rejected the offer.[31]"

"Valentino went on to claim that artistic control was more of an issue than the money." + "Famous Players made their own public statements deeming him more trouble than he was worth (the divorce, bigamy trials, debts) and that he was temperamental, almost diva-like. They claimed to have done all they could and that they had made him a real star.[33]

"Other studios began courting him." + "However, Famous Players exercised its option to extend his contract, preventing him from accepting any employment other than with the studio." + "Valentino filed an appeal, a portion of which was granted. Although he was still not allowed to work as an actor, he could accept other types of employment.[33]"

Return To The Movies

"Valentino returned to the United States in reply to an offer from Ritz-Carlton Pictures (working through Famous Players)" + "Rambova negotiated a two-picture deal with Famous Players and four pictures for Ritz-Carlton.[37] He accepted, turning down an offer to film an Italian production of Quo Vadis in Italy"

PERSONAL LIFE!!!!

"Valentino once told gossip columnist Louella Parsons that: "The women I love don't love me. The others don't matter". He claims that despite his success as a sex symbol that in his personal love life he never achieved happiness.[62]"

"Valentino impulsively married actress Jean Acker, who was involved with actresses Grace Darmond and Alla Nazimova. Acker became involved with Valentino in part to remove herself from the lesbian love triangle, quickly regretted the marriage, and locked Valentino out of their room on their wedding night."

"From the time he died in 1926 until the 1960s, Valentino's sexuality was not generally questioned in print.[67][68] At least four books, including the notoriously libelous Hollywood Babylon, suggested that he may have been gay despite his marriage to Rambova.[69][70][71][72][73] For some, the marriages to Acker and Rambova, as well as the relationship with Pola Negri, add to the suspicion that Valentino was gay and that these were "lavender marriages."

"Such books gave rise to claims that Valentino had a relationship with Ramón Novarro, despite Novarro stating they barely knew each other." + "These books also gave rise to claims that he may have had relationships with both roommates Paul Ivano and Douglas Gerrad, as well as Norman Kerry, and openly gay French theatre director and poet Jacques Hébertot." + "However, Ivano maintained that it was untrue and both he and Valentino were heterosexual.[24] Biographers Emily Leider and Allan Ellenberger generally agree that he was most likely straight"

like every historian would say: "they were just good friends"

"further supposed evidence that Valentino was gay; documents in the estate of the late author Samuel Steward indicated that Valentino and Steward were sexual partners.[77] However, evidence found in Steward's claim was subsequently found to be false, as Valentino was in New York on the date Steward claimed a sexual encounter occurred in Ohio."

- Via Wikipedia

These are the few quotes from his wekipedia page in which I literally gaped at...

So in short:

Sex Symbol who was an Actor

Got his image enhanced and exploited by his manager.

Constanly Overworked

Relationships used for PR (?)

Thought about leaving his management which led to a 'one man strike' and a lawsuit.

The lawsuit started off because of finantial reasons, but it was revealed it was more because of fucking creative freedom.

Management tried to reason with him, he didn't back down. And they continued to do so before an article of the 'lawsuit' was made public, he didn't accept any.

Management tried to paint Valentino as 'ungrateful' and that they were the reason he was a star.

When other people tried to get Valentino to work with/for them, his management stopped him by "threatening to extend the contract" (?) which prevented him from acting.

His sexuality was never really questioned due to the many relationships with woman he had (one which literally was a lesbian)

Lavender Marriages / PR marriages

After his death, speculation that he dated many men came up.

One even said they did the dEEd, but its impossible because they were both in separate countries duh, right? RIGhT????

The way we can literally compare this with Harry's situation (and maybe Louis' aswell!!!) is literally hurting my mind.

Also adding that @eyupdaisy is helping me a lot, kuddos to her aswell. She found this:

If you search the actual name of the post 'We will meet at the end of the trail' on google, this picture comes up

Which the HT account made a very lovely and subtle connection to it a few days ago

Guess well have to start lowkey monitoring them too? Or maybe just what they interact with the Mr.R acc...

wait- max images reached ;-;

[texasthegreatdestroyer]

So, I don't usually do these, because I always felt that shipping oc's with characters from other fan works was socially frowned upon, but since I've been seeing a few of these around, I'll give it a shot. My OC shipped with Auron.

Auron x Texas.

Yes, Auron's current partner in crime, rather he'd liked to admit it or not. Their meeting was rather... comedic. Auron didn't really notice his co worker until he accidentally rested the elbow of his sheifed arm on her head. She was very short, Her height being 4'8. He looked down to find a short, albino girl with wolf ears, and a tail. The whole package. Everything else looked human, she just had a few furry parts to her. Another key thing about her is that she always came off as the, "edgy" type, for her preference in black lipstick, and eyeliner. When he did get to know her, Auron has always found her annoyingly chipper, and overly friendly. The two attended a funeral together once, and she wouldn't stop smiling. Seriously. How does someone smile that much at a funeral??? Auron asked her about it.

Her response: Usually when people die, they don't want people to mourn over them, there for I choose not to mourn.

She wasn't entirely wrong, speaking from his own experiences, however it wasn't exactly the majority opinion, as Auron had to keep the wife of the dead man from trying to punch Tex in the face. Tex was almost always very clingy in the irritating and physical sense. She liked hugging a lot. She would hug Auron everytime she'd see him, and it usually would last 5 minutes before he would have to eventually pull her off. As time went on, and they grew closer, Auron started to notice that something was very wrong with Texas. Her extremely chipper personality was used to hide some dark, twisted thoughts, feelings, and even experiences. He came to this realization when he went to visit her one night, and she didn't answer her door. She lived in a dormitory like area, where there was the bedroom, and then a small room next to it that was a kitchen, and the bathroom being against the the smaller side of the rectangular kitchen. It was a nice little place for someone who likes living alone, but it had its downsides, like paper thin walls. You could hear the inhabitants, and they most likely can hear you as well. After a minute or two of waiting, just as he turned to leave, Auron was startled by the sound of soft, female sobbing, coming from Tex's dorm. He knew for a fact that if Tex was crying, which he had never actually seen her do, something was horribly wrong. He immediately opened the door to find a mess waiting for him. Texas sat their curled up in a ball, hands grabbing at her hair and pulling, make up smeared, wrists bleeding from self inflicted bites. Scattered around her were drawings of morbid, violent, and just horrid depictions, along with words scribbled over them along the lines of, "Worthless", "Dead", "No Future", "I'm nothing." A common sign of depression. If there was one thing Auron always knew about Tex is that she had a talent for art. She did this thing that she called a web comic. Auron, not really being kept up in technology, never really knowing what it was, let alone reading it, thought nothing of it, but he had seen her art, and it was phenomenal. It really opened his eyes to what she truly was when he saw that beauty and talent turned into something so ugly and self degrading. When Tex finally noticed him, her reaction was just to try to hide herself in the comfort of her knees. Auron began snooping around, and grabbing rags, then pried Tex's hands from her head, and wrapped her wrist.

Auron: Moron. What were you thinking???

Texas: ...

Auron pulled her into an embrace, still holding the rags to her wrist.

Auron: Would you like to talk about why you bit yourself up like this? Or the sketches for that matter?

Texas: I-I don't know what to do! My art! My comic! I- the deadline to get chapter 9 out is tomorrow, and I thought I could just push through it in a day with enough effort, but I don't even have content! I don't have a script! I have no story, no art for chapter 9! I'm a fuck up! I'm stupid! I'm nothing! I-... I'm so sorry... you shouldn't have had to see me like this...

Auron: It's fine. You're human after all. I expect you to have emotions, breaking points. As for your problems. Tex, the comic is just a for fun thing, right?

Texas: Yeah...

Auron: Great. Take some time off until you get over your writer's block. The timely fashion of updates doesn't matter, the quality does. If you can't produce anything good, then step back and take a break. It's obvious that it's affecting your mental health. This will make you hate what you do, so step back from it. Take a break.

Texas: You're right, I've just... meh.

Auron: Don't be afraid to show your emotions around me. It shows me that you are human.

That night, Auron didn't leave Tex's side, mainly out of fear for what she might do when she's alone. This opened a pathway for future sleep overs. Auron didn't share his bed with many, but with Tex, it had become routine, and he didn't mind. He actually liked the cuddles. A few months later, he receives a message from Tex. That night, she wasn't with him, she decided to stay at her place to do some cleaning.

Message received at 1:23 am:

Texas: Hey. Are you awake?

Auron: I wasn't until you woke me. -_-

Texas: Oh sorry. I forgot that your ringtone is up all the way usually... I'm sorry. XD

Auron: This better be important if it warrants you texting me at one in the morning...

Texas:...

Auron: It's not that important, is it?

Texas: ... No comment...

Auron: Tex...

Texas: I'll leave you alone then.

Auron: Why do you do this!? Spit it out! I'm already awake!

Texas: Are you sure? It can wait until tomorrow.

Auron: Tex. Spit. It. Out...

Texas: I can't! You're making me nervous!XI

Auron: Why would you be nervous?

Texas: Because it's kinda personal...

Auron: Okay. Pretend I'm not here. Say what you have to say.

Texas: ... that is so unaffective when I'm staring directly at that message...

Auron: Point taken. Just tell me.

Texas: Okaaaaay! ...

The icon at the bottom that says that Tex is typing stays that way for 5 minutes.

Auron: So?

Texas: Okay. Here goes nothing. And when I say that, I mean here goes everything I could possibly hold dear in my life. XD

Auron: Are you going to say what I think you're going to say?

Texas: I would really really really REALLY like to punch you in the face!

Auron: Okay, that's not where I thought you were going with this.

Texas: With my face, gently... I Love you! You are amazing, and wise, and sweet, even when you hide it under your protective layers! I simply love you. End of story. And I was wondering if you would allow me to take you out to dinner! I'm going to go cry now, because I feel like I'm dying XD

Auron: I stand corrected...

Auron: O//_//O...

Auron: No.

Texas: No?

Auron: No.

Texas: Okay then... What? No reason why? Like I'm cool with it, if you don't like me like that, but still. At least give me a reason...

Auron: Okay. I'll tell you exactly why. Yeah. I like you. I think you're cute. However, I don't appreciate you waking me up at 1 in the morning to text me with a confession. You want a relationship? Fine, but take initiative and tell me to my face. Quit being a coward. -_-

Texas: Ouch. My feel goods. Anyways, I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow man. Sorry about this...

Auron: It's fine :) Sleep well, Tex.

Texas: You too bro <3

After Auron and Tex finish messaging each other, Auron goes back to sleep. The next day is pretty amusing. Auron waits for his partner. Half expecting she hopes to forget about the previous night. Auron hears running behind him, and turns to find Tex in a suit and tie running up to hi., screaming, "I love you, you sexy, sexy son of a gun!" She knocks his feet out from under him, and steals a very, very passionate kiss, but soon afterwards, causing Auron and Tex both to fall over to the ground. Because her tiny frame is too much for his bigger, heavier frame. Luckily Texas's arm was under Auron's head when they fell, so no brain damage was caused to the older male. Texas turns to Auron, half expected to be heated, and she wasn't wrong, just heated in a different sense. Auron's face was bright red, slight tears to his eyes, he bursts out laughing, black lipstick smeared on his lips.

Texas: What? You told me to take initiative!

His laughter fades to a light chuckle, and then he stops.

Auron: Wow. That was... cheesy.

Texas: Also clearly failed...

Auron: (Still catching his breath.) No it didn't.

Texas: So it actually worked!?!? YAY!

Auron: Just don't do that again. You took us both out in the process.

Auron pulls Tex into his lap, and the two share a proper kiss.

Auron: See. That in of it's self is enough for me.

Texas: Yeah, but it wouldn't be a confession from me if it wasn't stupidly cheesy and didn't make you smile.

Auron: It's missing something though.

Texas: And that is?

Auron: The amazing pick up line from last night.

Texas: Ah yes, you have good taste, my kind, gentle sir. I would really.

Auron: Yes?

Texas: Really.

Auron: Go on.

Texas: Really.

Auron:...

Texas: Really!

Auron: Hopefully this is the last, "Really."

Texas: Like to punch you in the face. With my face gently, romantically, and in other places besides your face.

Auron: Okay. Okay. Calm down. We haven't even had dinner yet...

Texas: Exactly. Dinner.

Auron is very flustered at his now girlfriend's sense of humor. Safe to say, they had a very romantic evening together. ;3

This is my contribution to OC x Fan work Characters. Hope you enjoyed!