#and now i'm back again with another post involving him and pretending to be normal about this dude

[pralinesims]

TAG // What's in my bag?

I remembered that a few years ago I've participated in a tag like this, so I kinda was in mood to start a complete new tag chain + slightly rewritten rules to revive it!

Rules: Post a description and/or photo of what things your Sim/OC would take along with them in their bag. Tag other people who you want to participate!

My candidate of choice: Aaron, of course!

Almost always he brings these things with him:

Something to drink (probably water or some kinda lemonade) / hand sanitizer / Chewing gum / Wallet with money + cards / a vape / Passport / a pen / Charging cable (of fucking course...) / Air Pods / Keys / an extra pair of glasses / USB stick / his phone!!! + OPTIONAL (not pictured here) If the bag has extra space, he's probably bringing a selfie stick or even a tripod along with him, as he likes to be prepared if he spontaneously feels like recording or photographing something. Also bandaids or tissues cause he, uhh, tends to accidentally hurt himself whenever he's filming fdsksfdkj. If there is even more extra space left, you can bet that he's tagging his laptop along with him.

I'm tagging: @castawavy @lilamausmaus @rebouks @rottengurlz @browntrait @void-imp @wldestluv-rs @wistfulpoltergeist @wasabichips @aniraklova @crabbeychick @aliengirl @potential-fate @crsentfairy @eljeebee @omgkayplays @alinelie @simandy @gothoffspring @salemsimss @adelarsims and everyone who's also in mood to do this!

[highdreaming]

Preferences: You being involved in a cheating scandal

💢 All the works are pure fictions, for entertainment purposes only so please, read it at your own will.

Find more at: Masterlist

» Pedri + Gavi + João Félix

AN: Please like, reblog and give me feedback!

Also, give me cool ideas for these preferences, I'm liking doing them.

--

Pedri 

When some photos of you allegedly cheating on Pedri are posted on the Internet, Pedri is gonna be very cold and distant towards you.

All the loyalty proofs you’ve given him during your relationship are ruined by the seed of suspicion that is now planted on Pedri’s mind. 

He can’t shake away what he’s seen and read online, all those accusations about you. Those incriminating photos: what if he doesn’t know the real you? What if you did lie to him about having an affair?

How can he trust you?

All of these doubts are gonna make Pedri distance himself from you, shifting to a more gloomy mood and everyone notices this change, especially you.

You assure him over and over again that you’d never cheat on him, that it’s not even you in the photos. It’s simply a similar girl with her back to the camera - you don’t even have those clothes. 

You do everything you can to convince Pedri that those are lies, but he still ends up asking for some timeout to think. 

Eventually, after a short period of time being miserable without you, Pedri realizes that he should have trusted you and he’ll beg you for forgiveness.

From now on, he’ll stay miles away from whatever fake rumors involving you. 

Gavi

Gavi is confused as hell, but also upset. Many questions haunting him: is there any reality to the rumors? He definitely doesn’t want to believe in it and he loves you so much that he’ll just pretend like nothing has happened.

He just shakes his head and convinces himself that it’s all a bunch of shitty lies, none of them true. But deep down, he’s gonna be insecure about it. 

If you don’t mention the scandal, then neither will he. He just lets it go, pretending like nothing ever happened. But Gavi is gonna change, becoming possessively clingy.

Always trying to be around you when there are guys involved and doing his best to keep them away from you to the point it gets utterly suffocating with your boyfriend trying to keep you to himself at all times.

He’s so moody and snappy when he sees you looking towards another guy and it drives you crazy when he literally starts fights with random guys just because they looked at you. 

It eventually leads to a fight between the two of you and you’ll end up finding out that he’s insecure about the possibility of those awful rumors being true. 

Once Gavi realizes that you’re innocent and it’s just the crazy fans creating drama, he’ll be much more at ease, going back to his normal self, deeply apologizing for all. 

João Félix

João is kinda used to being swamped in dating and cheating scandals.

His previous relationship also had the same issue and with time, he learned to ignore all the jealous people in the world and to focus on what really matters: you. 

He knows for a fact that you love him so much that you barely even acknowledge the existence of other guys. You love him just as deeply as he loves you. 

So, his response is simply to ignore the rumors. If you try to explain yourself to João, don’t bother: he’ll brush your worries away by assuring you that he knows that it’s just some pathetic gossip, that he trusts you with his life and that you don’t need to explain yourself. 

He goes as far as posting a few memorable moments you two spent together on social media, making sure the haters know that he’s living his best life with you and that no one, much less random strangers online, can destroy your relationship.

That’s how much he loves you. 

End of story. 

-----

[fangirlfrom-hell]

Absolution and Mercy (7x9-7x10) || Jay Halstead x Healstead Sister

*re-posting this because I'm stupid and accidentaly delated my blog 🫠

This is the plot from season 7, episodes 9 and 10 but with Jay's younger sister involved in the story.

Did I cry a bit writing this? Yes I did.

◇

Becca was usually the first one to be picked up after her afternoon classes were over, but this day she was left alone in the sidewalk. It was getting dark, she was cold and scared. At the distance she detected how a car was approaching her at full speed, but it wasn't Jay. It was Will, and she only realized that when he parked in front of her.

-"Sorry I'm so late. In my defense, Jay called me all of the sudden. I drived as fast as I could, then I got lost. Are you going to get in or what? It's freezing outside".

-"Where's Jay?" The girl asked when she was inside of the car.

-"He didn't say. He was in a hurry when he called me, he might be working in a case, something must have poped out unexpectedly. You know how it is".

-"Are you taking me home?"

-"No, I can't leave you there alone. We're going to my place. Jay will pick you up later, or I will take you back with him. He will give me a call, don't worry".

But that call never happened. During the course of the night, Will called his brother several times, but he never answered.

-"Do you think he is in danger?" Becca was starting to get worried.

-"No". Will lied. -"Maybe he's still working and he's not carrying his personal phone".

That argument didn't convince her at all.

-"It's late and you have school tomorrow, so this is what we're gonna do. Go take a shower, I'll find some clothes you can use to sleep on. I will take the sofa, so you can sleep comfy in my bed".

Not wanting to, Becca obeyed her brother. She couldn't hide her concern for Jay and Will was trying to ignore it, pretending nothing was going on. He was also quiet preoccupied but didn't want to show it. When his sister was out of the room, he gave it another try.

-"Hey, man. It's me again. Call me back as soon as you hear this...please. Bec's alright, don't worry. We're just...We want to make sure you're safe".

The sun began to set on the horizon without news of the missing Halstead brother. Will had barely slept during the night, he distributed his time between trying to reach Jay and checking on Becca, who also had a rough night. He was half asleep when a ray of light coming through the window woke him up.

-"Shit". He muttered looking at his cellphone. There were no signs of Jay.

He went to his room and found his sister sleeping under the blankets. He had to make a plan and act normal, she obviously knew something was wrong.

-"Bec". He softly moved her shoulder. -"Bec, wake up".

-"Is Jay back?" She asked half asleep.

-"No. I'm taking you home so you can get ready for school. Come on".

-"Do you think he is going to be there?"

-"We'll find out".

Will opened the door of Jay's appartment with his copy of the keys. He entered first, making sure everything was in order. Becca followed him when he gave her a sign to get in.

-"This is not good". She said. -"Where is he?"

-"I don't know. I'll pass by the 21st after I drop you off at school. Let's hope they have an answer to this mystery".

-"No. We'll pass by the 21st before you drop me off at school".

Trudy Platt was at her desk talking on the phone with the State's Attorney. She got confused when she saw both Halstead siblings entering the room, their presence wasn't a good singn, she felt it in her guts.

Sergeant Platt went up to the bullpen with Will and Becca behind her. All of the detectives were gathered there, except for Jay. The little girl looked all over the place and made a disappointed face when didn't spot her brother.

-"Hey, is Halstead on a UC run?" Trudy asked Voight.

-"Not that I know about".

-"State's Attorney is all over me. He's supposed to be in court right now. His brother and little sister are also looking for him". She pointed at them with her head.

-"He called me yesterday and asked me to take care of Becca. He was supposed to pick her up later, but never showed up. We went to his place this morning and wasn't there". Will intervened.

-"Hailey, you know anything?"

-"No, I called him a few times, but---".

-"I did too". Platt said.

-"No answer". Will concluded showing his phone. -"This is so out of character for him. He's overprotective, he would never forget about Becca like this. He didn't even called to make sure she was already with me, didn't ask if she was fine as he always does".

-"I ran the GPS on his truck...". Platt stoped and moved her eyes from Will and Becca before continuing.

-"Nothing I say will make her go downstairs". Will stated as giving her permission to keep on talking.

-"It's parked on a street in Englewood".

-"How long has it been there?"

-"All night. I ran the in-service calls to that block, there were two calls of suspicious persons at a house on that street".

Becca took a few steps to the front to reach her brother's arm.

-"Thanks, Trudy".

-"Check it out". Hank ordered to his detectives. -"We'll keep you updated". He said to Will.

-"Please find him". Becca begged the sergeant.

-"We won't stop until we find him". He reassured her with a smile and petting her head.

-"Let's move. I'll take you to school". The doctor said to his sister. -"You already missed a couple of classes".

-"Are you joking? I'm staying" She said staring directly at his eyes.

-"You'll be better at school than here or at The Med".

-"I myself will inform you when we find him, it's a promise". Trudy ended the conversation.

School was being worse than usual for Becca, she couldn't stop thinking about her brother. She was so deep in her toughts that she didn't even hear the daily mockery of her classmates. The clock was ticking slowly and her eyes began to fill with tears.

-"I'm here to take Becca Halstead". The school's principal interrupted the class. -"Take your backpack, sweetie. They're here to pick you up".

The tone on the woman's voice reminded her of that time Burgess and Roman took her to the bullpen because Jay was being threatened. She took her stuff and walked throught the hallway to find Trudy Platt at the office.

-"Here she is, Sergeant. You can take her now".

-"I promised you that I would inform you as soon as they found it. The team just found him".

-"Is he-".

-"I don't know anything else". Platt interrupted. -"I just know he was found". She lied, she wasn't the indicated to talk with her about his condition. -"Come on, I'll take you to The Med. Will is waiting there".

The Med was full of cops and detectives as usually happened when one of their own was wounded. For Will it was surreal that this time the victim was his brother, he still couldn't assimilate the fact. His mind was all disturbed constantly changing from the doctor to the brother role and viceversa. Apart from Jay's state of health, what worried him the most was Becca. Despite having notified a lot of bad news during his career, he had no clue how to discuss the situation with his little sister. He didn't want to, but he didn't want anyone else to be the one telling her the news. He was also uncommonly scared to enter the waiting room where the policemen were waiting for updates.

Hailey Upton was sitting leaning over with her elbows on her knees, the fear was evident on her face. Looking at her teary eyes it was obvios how much she had been crying. It wasn't strange at all, she and Halstead had been partners for a couple of years now and their relationship had grown to a good friendship, a very good friendship. Detective Rojas sat next to her and extended her a coffee, leaning a hand on her back as a reassuring gesture.

Kevin and Adam were also there, both standing up, for anxiety did not allow them to stay still. The rest of the place was packed with uniformed. Hank Voight was on his feet, concern was evident through his eyes. A lot of officers and commanders approached him offering their support.

With a heavy sigh and holding back a lot of emotions, Will encouraged himself to go inside with them. Everybody stood up at his presence. Detective Upton quickly positioned herself in front of him, followed by the rest of the team.

-"Hey, Everybody". Somehow he was managing to stay as the doctor, not the brother. -"I just talked to Dr. Marcel, he said the bullet grazed an artery. They are still trying to repair it".

-"Will?" Hank Voight intervened. -"Is he gonna be ok?"

-"He's lost a lot of blood". Words stuck in his throat and dried stoped talking. Ruzek gave him a pat on the shoulder to show emotional support, there wasn't relly anything else to do.

-"Will..." Maggie interrupted from the outside of the waiting room. Everyone turned their attention to the charge nurse and there was no need for her to explain anything. Becca was right behind her, her big hazel eyes wide open looking at all of the cops and some other familiar faces, trying to comprehend what was going on.

-"Oh, Bec...". Will approached to her sweating cold, with his heart raced in fear.

-"Wh--What's going on?" She asked, not being able to take her eyes off the cops. -"Sergeant Platt told me they found Jay, but nothing else. What happened?". Her voice was charged with despair.

The detectives' eyes were all on Becca, wide open as if waiting for a reaction from the girl.

-"Yeah. Ok. Hmm--there's no easy way to say this". His voice was very low and raspy. -"Jay was kidnapped, but his team found him and...".

-"Where is he? Can I see him?" The little girl interrupted calmly.

-"Jay was shot, Becca. He's going into surgery right now". As a doctor, he knew there wasn't other way of saying it.

-"Oh". The girl said as if it was a casual situation. -"But, I mean...he's going to be fine, right?".

-"He's...lost a lot o blood".

-"But it's Jay". Becca interrupted with a smiled, more as a symtom of a nervour breakdown, eyes starting to get teary. Maybe she didn't realize it, but she was avoiding the rest of the information. -"He has been shot before, he's like indestructible".

At that moment, Becca sensed how Maggie held her shoulders, and the weight of the world fell on the little girl. The atmosphere felt the same as when Jay told her that their mother had died, as same as when Will explained to her that they would have to disconnect their father. All of those memories and feelings were taking control over her, but this time Jay wasn't there to help her go through them.

-"Bec..."

-"No..."

-"Becca, he was shot in the chest, no bulletproof vest. He has lost a lot of blood...".

-"Will--". Maggie tried to stop the doctor.

-"Shut up!"

-"...but he's in surgery right now with Dr. Marcel, one of the very best in Chicago and he's..."

-"Just stop!". Becca cried.

-"Dr. Halstead!" Maggie insisted worried for how Becca was taking the news. There has to be another way of notifyig.

-"...doing his best to save our brother's life. He is in the best hands". He tried to hold her, but she refused him.

-"Is he goig to die?" Becca asked in a very low voice and bursted into an uncontrollable crying.

Will held his sister as tight as he could, so tight she was barely breathing under his arms. He tried to keep his composure, but broke down when he heard his little sister crying loud. He kissed her head, there was nothing to say, nothing to do, just be there for each other.

The intelligence team witnessed the scene and was moved by it, but most of all it made their anger grow even more. Tears rolled down Hailey's cheeks, Adam just stared at the floor with his arms crossed. Hank Voight patted Becca on the back as he passed through te sibblings to run into Burgess, who had just arrived.

-"I got an update on Angela Nelson".

-"Okay".

-"Doctors removed the bullet. She's gonna be fine".

-"Where is she?" And with that only question, they both left the place in a hurry.

With all of the movement that was generated, Will separated from Becca and took her by the shoulders: -"Come on, let's sit". They walked embraced, everyone moving to let them pass. She knew all of the detectives who were present, each one of them tried to make her feel their suport: Atwater squeezed her shoulder, Vanessa gave her a warm smile, Adam gave her a hug and Hailey sat right next to her holding her hand.

Not wanting to leave the hospital, Intelligence detectives had to withdraw due to a case assigned by Superintendent Crawford, something Hank couldn't avoid. Detective Upton was the only one that refused to leave, and no one contradicted her.

A couple of hours passed, but it felt like an eternity for Becca. There were still no news about Jay and that made her agony grow.

-"Why is it taking so long?" She was walking from one side to another, anxiety starting to increase.

-"These procedures are very delicate, they take a lot of time. You know what? You should go home". Will suggest. -"I don't think it is a good idea for you to stay here so much time. I'll find someone who can take you. You need rest, to change clothes, you haven't even eat anything".

-"I'm not going anywhere, Will". Becca answered with a stern tone that reminded of Jay's way of talking in distress. They were so alike.

-"Dr. Halstead". Maggie interrupted. -"I'm so sorry, you are requiered in the ER".

Will stared at his little sister, not knowing what to do, he would never leave her by herself in a normal day, much less under the circumstances they were going through.

-"Come on. I can't leave you here alone. Take your backpack, you can stay in the Doctor's room or in a dormitory while I find someone who can take you...".

-"I am not going anywhere, Will". Becca repeated her own words, this time with a little bit of anger.

-"Bec, I get it, I totally do. You want to stay here for Jay, but we will be updated in the ER, I just can't leave you here alone".

-"Alone? This must be the safest place in the hospital right now". She said pointing to all of the cops around.

-"I am not going anywhere". Upton interrupted before Will could continue. -"I can take care of her".

-"Hailey, you don't have to, you are already going through a lot right now and you are on duty, so...".

-"Nobody will move me from here, Will. It's ok, for real".

-"Is that all right for you?". Will looked at Becca and noticed the tiredness and sadness in her eyes as she nodded. -"Ok, all right. Just promise me that you'll eat something, kiddo". He approached to his little sister and kissed her forehead before parting.

-"Not really hungry, but I'll try".

-"Please do it for me. I'll be back as soon as I can".

His heart dropped when he walked out of the room, she also felt a little bit helpless, alone. It was true that she knew Hailey since a few years ago, she liked her and trusted her, but she wasn't her family and that's what she needed at the moment.

-"What if I bring you a hamburger from the cafeteria?" Maggie smiled to Becca. -"Don't you dare to say 'no' to me. I know it's your favorite, I'll be right back".

Becca took a deep breath and sighed, her leg was shaking a lot even standing up. Despair and anxiety were taking over her small body, she felt the urge to hit something or somebody. Her mind started going around, she couldn't live without Jay, what would she do without her big brother? She was nothing without him. A lot of memories came to her mind, good ones and bad ones. Suddenly she was crying without even noticing it.

-"Hey!" Hailey called her from her seat and forced a smile for the girl. -"Wanna join me here?".

Becca sat next to her brother's partner, not really knowing what to do or what to say. She tried to hold her tears, but failed, so she wiped them away as soon as they got out of her eyes. Hailey placed a hand in Becca's shaking leg.

-"You don't need to do that. You can cry in front of me, I won't judge you. I mean, look at me". They both smiled. -"Here, hold my hand, squeeze it. Breath with me, it will help you ease your toughts: 4 in, hold 7 and 8 out".

-"Thank you". The little Halstead sister said when she was more calmed.

-"I know you and Jay are very close. He's so private, but he still talks a lot about you with me".

-"He does?".

-"Yes. When we started working together, before knowing he had a sister, I always tought he was talking about his daughter".

-"Imagine that". Becca made a disgust gesture and laughed a bit. -"I know you two are very fond too. He never talks about work with me, but you wouldn't be here if you didn't care for him". She didn't feel like revealing right there that Jay had talked about her before.

-"He is a good partner, it's hard to find one". The girl stared at her for a few seconds, then they stayed in silence for a couple of minutes, staring at the floor. Becca was a sensible girl, she understood there was more behind Detective Upton words and suddenly Hailey felt like family.

-"I'm really scared". She confessed while unconsciously hugging Hailey's arm.

-"Me too". The detective held her tight. -"But your brother, he is a tough guy, he's strong of mind and body. And he loves you so much, he won't stop fighting to overcome this and come back to you. I can assure you that".

A very special connection was formed between Hailey and Becca in that exact moment. In Hailey's arms, Becca found the peace she needed to rest, and fell asleep while she stroked her ginger tousled hair. Inside her chest, Hailey was feeling the urgent need to protect the little girl, as if she was her own sister. She never let her go while they waited together, if anything, she held her tighter as time passed by.

Rojas found them like that when she went back to the hospital to check on Hailey.

-"Hey". Vanessa announced her presence.

-"Hey". Upton answered back in a low voice, trying to hug her roomate, but couldn't really move with Becca asleep in her shoulder.

-"I got you some gyro from Greek Islands, I tought you might be hungry".

-"That's really sweet of you. Thanks". She took the back with her unoccupied hand.

-"And I got you some clean clothes from the appartment".

-"Thank you". She genuinely smiled.

-"Have we heard anything about Jay?" She sat down next to her friend.

-"No". Upton sadly answered, unconsciously checking on Becca, who was now half awake. -"He's gonna freak out when he wakes up, the man hates needles. I can't figure him out, he's the first one through the door, a war vet. And he'd rather take a bullet than get the flu shot".

Becca, who was now listening everything, internally laughed at that last comment. That was a good description of his brother.

-"Hailey, I know how hard this must be for you".

-"It's always hard when something like this happens".

-"It's hard because you love him". Vanessa Rojas said simply.

Becca's heart began to beat a little bit faster, this time for a good feeling instead of anxiety. Of course she was in love with her brother, everything made sense now. And she knew Jay had feelings for her too. Maybe that was why she felt so secure by her side.

-"Of course I love him. He's my partner". Hailey answered to finish the conversation.

Both detectives phones started to buzz and Becca took advantage of that to pretend that she had just woken up.

-"Ruzek got a lead on the home invasion". Rojas looked at her phone.

-"Yeah. Um, I'm gonna stay". Hailey said looking at Becca, who looked devastated even after having rested a bit.

-"Is everything all right?" The younger Halstead asked when Rojas left. Hailey nodded her head, not being able to controll her sobbing. The last conversation had moved a lot inside of her and was now a mixure of feelings.

Another hour passed by and Becca couldn't take it anymore.

-"Where's Will? He was supposed to be back soon and also keep us updated.

-"He was here a few times, but you were deep asleep. He didn't want to bother you. He had no news, though".

-"I heard my favorite Halstead didn't want to leave her brother's side". A familiar voice called, it was Trudy Platt. She approached with a bag in her hands. -"So I thought it would help to bring you some clothes, hunny. I mean, CPD sweaters and pants might not be the best, but they should be more confortable than that uniform you've been wearing all day. These are the smallest I found, I'm positive they'll fit you".

When Becca came back from the restroom, all changed and carrying the other clothes, she found Hailey and Platt standing up in front of Will. Fear ran through her entire body once more, not knowing what to expect, since the three of them looked very serius. It was Hailey who spotted the little girl petrified in terror at the entrance of the room.

-"Bec". Will called her. -"He's all right. Jay is going to be fine".

-"Are you sure?" She dropped her clothes and started to cry happy tears.

-"It will take time for him to recover and I can assure you he will be a pain in the ass, but he's going to be all right".

Becca laughed and jumped into her brother's arms, who lifted her up a bit in the air. Upton and Platt presenced the scene with teary eyes of relief and a smile from ear to ear.

-"Can I see him?"

-"He's still asleep, but of course. You can wait by his side until he wakes up. Come on, I'll take you there. My shift will end in a couple of hours and then I'll fully be with you two".

-"Oh, but wait!" She turned to Hailey, before following her brother. -"You should come with us. Will, she can come with us, right?".

-"I don't think is a good idea. I'll wait in here until he wakes up, don't worry". She rushed to say before letting Will answer.

-"No. I really think you should come". Once more, there was that tone so similar to Jay comming from Becca.

-"There's no problem, Hailey. If you want to, you can come". The doctor confirmed.

When Jay woke up, Hailey was out changing her clothes. Becca was the first person he spotted when he opened his eyes.

-"Hey". He managed to say and raised his unharmed arm trying to reach his little sister, taking her elbow. -"Why are you crying?" She took his hand and squeezed it as tight as she could.

-"Because I'm happy you're alive, dummy". Jay smiled when he heard her voice.

Both siblings had a lot of things to say, but they didn't need words to express their feelings. They stared at each others eyes and it was enough to understand what they were going through.

-"I know". Jay said feeling how emotional Becca was. -"Come here". He opened his arm within his posibilities and with a lot of caution she laid down her head to hug him back. -"I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry". He kept repeating in a raspy voice.

They stayed like that for a while. Jay couldn't stop thinking about his actions and what would had happened to Becca if he had died. She was the only thing on his toughts when he received the shot. Becca relaxed when she heard her brother's heartbeat, it was the definitive evidence she needed to make sure he was really alive.

-"How are you feling?"

-"Like I was asleep for a year".

-"You needed a little rest".

-"Sorry to interrupt". Detective Upton came into the scene, embarrased to be the reason they had to separate. -"I didn't noticed you were already awake".

-"Don't worry. You are just in time". Becca smiled.

-"Hailey?" Jay started and she walked to the other side of the bed.

-"You know I hate hospitals".

-"Oh, you are just fine already, aren't you?". Becca rolled her teary eyes, but the comment made Hailey laughed a bit.

-"I do".

-"You gotta get me out of here".

-"It's not optional, no".

Hank Voight entered almost immediately and stood next to his detectives.

-"Becca, happy to see your eyes lighting again". He greeted her first with a head nodd, then talked to Jay: -"How's the shoulder?"

-"It feels like I'll be flying a little crooked for a while.

-"I went and talked to Will and he said no structural damage, so you got lucky".

-"I guess you could call it that".

There was something going around Jay's mind, but he couldn't ask with the presence of his little sister. He didn't want her to leave, but he had to ask Voight, and there wasn't going to be another chance.

-"Uh, Bec--why don't you go and..."

-"I guess I'll go find Will, yes". Becca said feeling the tension.

-"How's Angela doing?" He finally asked when they were alone.

-"She's under arrest".

From outside the room, Becca saw Hailey and Voight going out having a brief conversation, they looked concerned. When they split up, the Sergeant walked into another room and Upton rushed out of the hospital.

-"Is your shift already over?" Becca asked Will when he passed by, not even noticing her.

-"Half an hour and I'm done". He said looking at his clock. -"Look at you, all smiley again".

-"Jay woke up. They are running some tests right now. He's going to loose it if there are needles involved".

-"He just received a shot and I do believe he would still be afraid of a needle". The siblings laughed.

The three Halsteads stayed together as much as they could, but it was getting late and they were tired. Becca's eyes started to close due to mental exhaustation, she had cried all day and her mind was pushed to the limit. Now that everything was calmed coudn't avoid to fall asleep although the chair she was sitting in was the most unconfortable.

-"I think it's time to go". Will said. -"She stayed by your side all day, didn't want to move for a second. She was really, really worry".

-"Maybe I wasn't the indicated to be in charge of her". Jay sighed and spat what he had in his mind. -"Maybe we should have let aun Clair take her".

-"And just let her go to New York far away from us? Like, never see her again? What are you talking about, Jay? Where is this comming from, anyway?"

-"It's not the first time I've put her in a situation like this".

-"Stop thinking about it. It's the sedatives, you are all sensible and tired and need more rest. We are good, Jay. There is no one with whom she is better than with you, not even me".

A few days passed before Jay was discharged. Becca noticed how a lot of people visited him more than once: Kim, Adam, Kevin, Vanessa, Hank, Trudy and a bunch of other cops she didn't recognize. Her brother was a beloved soul and the love he received was extended towards her. She stayed inside of the room with all of the visits, except with Hailey. She always found an excuse to go out of the room when Detective Upton arrived.

-"All right. Finally, time to go home". Will said carrying a bag. -"Got you clean clothes and other stuff you may need".

-"Thank you".

-"Are you sure you don't need a hand?" Dr. Halstead asked before going out.

-"I'm good. I'll be using only one hand for a couple of days, so I might get used to it from now on".

-"I'll be around if you change your mind. Bec, let's go. Give the man some space".

Becca already knew all of the hospital, specially the ER, so she was left alone on the hallway while Will went back to work. She went to the vending machine to get something to eat while waiting for Jay. She got a juice for herself and was about to take a bag of gummies for her brother when a voice interrupted her.

-"Isn't a little bit early for candies?" It was Dr. Charles.

-"Oh, no. These are for my brother. He is about to be discharged, I tought about getting him his favorites".

-"That's a nice gesture and I'm happy to hear he's going out.

These past days were very hectic, weren't they?".

-"You bet".

Becca started walking slowly back to Jay's room, the psychiatrist by her side.

-"Dr. Charles?"

-"Yes, tell me".

-"Did Will send you to spy on me?"

-"What makes you think that?"

-"I know you've been following me around the hospital for the last couple of days. If I go to the restroom, you are there. If I go to the cafeteria, you are there. Whenever I'm alone, you are there...and now we're here". Becca smiled.

-"Oh. It wasn't my intention to make you feel harassed. Your brother Will wants to make sure you are fine, that's all".

-"No, it's ok. I think I understand".

-"Good. Well, now that we're here, would you mind if I ask you how are you doing? Your mind and body were under a lot of stress for a long period of time".

-"I'm fine. I mean, Jay is alive, that's all that matters".

-"Hm. You are right. Anyway, I'll be around if you feel the need to talk. Even when you go back home, you know I will be here".

-"Thanks, Dr. Charles".

That last conversation was strange for the little girl, why would she need to talk to Dr. Charles? Jay was alive, everything was fine. She couldn't stop going around it in her mind, she tought about telling Jay about it, but when she was close to his room she detected someone else inside, it was Hailey. Becca stood watching from afar how the detective was helping her brother to put on his sweater, that made her smile. She didn't know what they were talking about, but from her place it seemed they were very close from each other. Becca turned and walked away to give them some space.

Thanks for reading. If you liked it, it would help my soul if you give it a like, comment or share. 😌♡

[ram-de]

[read] oxnard is my son

Reading wolfsong rn and why is the writing style so eerie LIKE... you know what it reminds me... Like typical murder thriller storytelling in mangas I used to read. (like I know it will? Eventually involves murder) BUT MAN ITS SO EERIE

I guess it's the way the story is told like a diary. Like a dissection to the innocent thoughts of ox... he's so precious like I get why gordo wants him in the pack it's the paternal instinct. Ox's dad is probably the murderer right...

Not going to comment about the romance bcs it felt icky at the point I know I know no yucking peoples yums and its just like, what, 5?6?years age gap. but idk they're like at different levels of school... Like... Typically high schoolers wouldn't date a middle school kids right?? Then again idk when I was in middle school, ive heard of (typically girls) students that thought of dating highs schooler as something, like, normal... Idk how they would meet in the first place but?? Like alright ill stop writing. This is a post about wolfsong asshdhdjjj idk the point is im not too keen on age gaps...... Typically I wouldn't even mind 6-7 years if that happened when they're both adults at their 20s or something it's just this one they met at the very young age... ;-;

But I looked up at some spoilers and got reassured that the romance part happened in later parts, which I guess?? Makes it better??? I DON'T KNOW guess I'll see how it's handled OK, in tj klune I trust

ALRIGHT AGE DISCUSSION ASIDE I love love love the writing of the book so far. It has the thrills, the suspense but also... How soft it can be. I've read like, what, two books involving werewolfs so I get the gist of like wolf-traits but not so much on packs and groups aspect of it. Wolfsong delves heavy (as far as I read) and the affectionate (I would say platonic) touches, ruffling heads, patting backs LIKE... ox deserved that yes give my son the affection he deserve

Idk why ox is in two packs tho aren't wolves like territorial how come he has gordo's and the bennets... Hm...

UGHH OX LEARNED HOW TO TEXT😭 that's my son right there (we're barely years apart)

Joe uses =D emotes... I uses :D (and I know I've said enough about the age topic but the fact that joe has to ask for his mom if he can go to cinema with ox is a bit... Like this doesn't make it better, mentally THIS kid is a kid!!! what do I do im like pretty invested in this book but also... Is the age gap rly necessary mr klune... I'll pretend that joe is only two years younger for the rest of my readthrough for my own sake and see if that changes anything. Crisis averted! I'm a genius.)

Did my son ox really just had his 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 moment HSGSHJSSJJ

Did gordo just sneak into ox's room in the middle of the night... like is he,, is he sneaking through thee windows or the front door. And did they lock the house when they left I HAD SO MANY QUESTION

PackOursMineBrotherSonLove

STOPPPPP IF I ENDED UP LIKING WEREWOLF STORIES I'M BLAMING TJ KLUNE AHHHHH

Why is he leaving my man gordo in the forest why is this so eerie and why I am having a lot of fun reading this chapter... noooooo he's leaving gordo's pack😔

I LIKE PUPPIESS I've been watching a lot of cute doggies wagging their tails videos though I'm not too keen on alpha/beta/omega dynamics (why the hell i read a werewolf book then, uh, tj klune)

They really spammed (pack pack pack pack) in my son's head hsgzhsjsjhs so are they sharing like a mind?? Telepathy??? Is ox tethered to two packs now... Pls no abusive alpha😔 I trust in you nephew joe

Omega were dark things in the wolves society??? I thought they're the one that can get pregnant??

Tethers... Possessive... ANYTHING TO SAY GORDO....??? I'm sure he's gonna be paired up with Mark for second chances stories in another book bcs I know this is a series

This isn't fair to Jessie ngl

I'm visualizing the story as if it's told in a manga medium and I'm floored... It fits so well... The dramatics...! The sound effects in the bg. I'm being weird

"I'm always going to be here." Ox denied what his mom said, but he promised Joe the same thing himself. Loyalty runs wild within the pack...

JUSTICE FOR JESSIE she was brought to the story to be given dirt I hate this tropes in mm books sometimes AND WHATEVER HAPPEN TO GORDO'S GUYS, like Chris?? (fuck me I spoiled myself looking for posts about Jessie, WELL OK THEN)

Ok I wrote too early there he is, chris

thank the lords that my son ox is checking out peers his age at this point bcs pls let joe's be one-sided until for a longer while. on another note, Carter... Cutie... same age... what we could have... 😔 I could get away with forgetting but mr klune kept reminding me of the age problem ughgcgj (and I keep writing it to the point of casual reminders) I will try harder to ignore things I do not want to perceive.

I was so used to see a/b/o dynamics being soooo sexualized (is it a sexual term? Idk) in like memes when I casually scroll Twitter or YouTube so I can't take the whole 'My Alpha' thing seriously... Tho it's nice to see it portrayed like, possessiveness, taken two levels higher I guess, then again it's... This isn't really Abo per se?? It's like typical cute wolf pack dynamics. If so, I don't mind pack dynamics that much.

wait they took ox's mom (I forgot her name) to training and bonding too that's so cute AAAHHJ I love love love tu klune's side character and how it brings a lot of life to the story, how they're incorporated and like have character growth... (I STILL LOVE THE KIDS AT CERULEAN SEA though I forgot most of their names except Lucy I'm sorry dwarf daughter slime son uhh fairy kid and griffin (not?)kid and Lucy too)

my son ox forgets names easily too, he got it from me😭

Carter and ox being domestic. this is love... I LOVE THIS PAIR.... Who tf is nick? Wdym he never saw him again. DID... DID JOE KILL HIM...

Four years later, and Joe is actually 20💕 brainwashing myself has never been this easy

AHHHHH I remember ox's mother name... Remembered the spoiler I saw.... Connected the two....... Spoilers alert even tho it's in tags pls😭 ok I'll mourn ig....

Fuck me ox is catching feelings... I tried to ignore the age but they kept mentioning Joe's age and how short he is AND I'M.... OKAY... But then Joe turned 17 and suddenly ox is realizing the butterflies like I'm sorry is the age gap really necessary mr klune 😭 but I like everything else.... The characters, the world, the writing... I need to pause and sleep it off for now...

I CANT SLEEP I WANT TO READ AHHH ok ok it's ok, haven't even see how it's handled so it's ok. Alright denial is a river in Egypt whatever which means I'll get over it soon so...

I warmed up to joe(21) and ox(23) already😭 CUTE my son is so clumsy and delusional (mildly)

am I yucking someone else yum... if so I'm sorry but the later half of this chapter, seriously... The word underage is mentioned and this is still the direction they went with shzvjsjshshshs how can I live in denial if things kept getting shoved on my face wdym it's okay carter😭

flustered ox is so... Hes so cute UGHH not to mention joe(21) being smug about it like this man (guy (kid)) is confident as hell. He's gonna be the death of ox (hopefully not literally)

I folded so easily because why is this so cute... This is like peak friends(both adults and /over/age) to lovers pipeline

PLEASEEE joe(21) just did a proposal... a cutiepie and a half

this is cracking me up so bad I love this book (certain trope aside) they're just hiding outside listening😂

Okay, okay, so the reasoning being that thing about experiences and how some kids mature early and stuff balut werewolves minds and compatibility and stuff. Fair, fair, but, AHHH whatever, moving on...

Maybe I teared up a bit,,, oxnard my son you're indeed worth everything😭

Joseph you possessive pup... His speech? Poem? Is peak creep and obsession... As expected from alphas ig

[youwantedavillain]

Reva, the Screaming Banshee who Enables and Encourages Slander (part 2)

Continued from part 1....

Now pay attention, my dear readers, because this part is gonna be brought up later on! We have already talked about the fact that I am also a victim of stalking and dogpiling in real life by my IRL friends WHILE I was going through all this shit, so it’s not hard to assume and confirm that I have PTSD when it comes to situations like this. One beautifully tragic morning I had to go to one of my English classes, because surprise surprise, I’m a college student… who is trying to NOT to go into fucking debt by failing. Apparently Reva couldn’t comprehend this,... perhaps didn’t consider bothering in the first place. That morning I had woken up from a nightmare/memory of my Stalker pulling the whole demanding my attention thing during my history class when I was going for my Culinary Degree. Now, waking up from that… and having another boy demand my attention while I was going to English class for my Bachelors for English… well… It’s easy to say that the ‘ol demon of unbridled rage possessed me for a hot minute there. Then he ran off to bash me in a server that I didn’t know about… which is reasonable. I was being a total bitch and I do regret it, but what was the reason for that little demand of my attention?

He thought that I didn’t like him (I did a little bit, but I loathe him now), and he was big upsetti spaghetti because I didn’t complete our little art project with the ship kids that @felicitythekittycat supposedly loathes (it’s not like that art takes literal weeks sometimes months to complete depending on how much detail I put in, if I have homework, if my stalker isn’t demanding my attention every half a second etc.).

It’s also not like I’m scared of being screamed at while I’m already emotionally fragile to the point that a feather could break me.

Truly, I should’ve just given him ALLLLLLLLLLLL my attention.

Also, it’s not like he and @felicitythekittycat literally showed off my mental breakdown later on in that same fucking server for everyone to gawk at and make fun of me… making me the village idiot/joke/pathetic cartoon villain…. Again…..

And I’m the bad guy? Have we all agreed I’m the true villain here? 

(Side note from an emotionally exhausted me: The reason why @felicitythekittycat was supposedly crying that time was because I was trying to guess what version of Nightmare!Sans got its own server AT 1AM, and I'm an insomniac who at the time was in college for my Culinary Degree. Another note that must be made is now I finally know why he called me "one of the most disgusting people he ever had the displeasure of meeting". I find it EXTREMELY odd and disturbing that he continues to act concerned and wonders if I hate him and "unnerved" when I pretend like nothing is wrong when that is often what he and the others do in that server from my perspective. So, when he and the others do it, it's totally normal. But when I do it, suddenly there is a problem that needs to be pushed. During this time he actively knew I had a stalker, BTW.)

Oh, and also apparently, I’m not allowed to vent in my own server of a whole ass 6 people! Because it gets more people involved with a situation that they’re not a part of…. Now where have I heard that before? Hmmmmmmm, maybe we should scroll up this entire post and uh… see if we see something funny. Liiiiiiiiiiike hypocrisy!

This screenshot was about me making a display of taking down my art contest that I made for the server. It was a basic concept and looking back it may have been a bit TOO ADVANCED for the artists there at the time, but who’s to say. Several people, including @felicitythekittycat, were planning on “memeing” the contest, which was that they were gonna all submit the same picture just to be assholes to me. Now I was reasonably mad because one, I thought it was gonna be a fun little contest – it was basically this:

You have to draw a character that isn’t yours – it can be your friend’s, an anime’s, etc., thus basically it could be any character of your choice so long as it isn’t your OC – and you have to draw them in an outfit that is inspired by food. It could be inspired by the texture, the color, shape language, etc. So essentially you could make a piece of your best friend’s character in a suit that is inspired by Tiramisu if you wanted, specifically the colors it has, and thus give it to said friend as a gift.

Yeah, this was gonna be “memed” for…. What reason? I don’t know, other than the fact that I was the one that thought of it.

Here is the second reason why I was upset: There were PLENTY of other art contests similar to it without a single problem going on. My guess for the reason why Reva was so pissed was because he and his cocksucker posse were upset they couldn’t execute it and/or felt guilty for it. Maybe he thought it was funny too. However, a meme/joke is only funny if everyone is laughing,... and I wasn’t laughing.

You also see me being very submissive here… it’s because I didn’t want to get screamed at more. Plus, I was humiliated. It made me feel like it was a bad idea and that I was a bad person for even considering it. I still somewhat feel embarrassed by it. I do have reassurance that my ideas and emotions over this are valid, though it doesn’t do much to heal the damage that was done to my confidence. Again, showing the Emotional Manipulation and fear impacted my actions in this situation. 

The concept isn’t even that strange, there is a Gacha Game called Food Fantasy with this very aesthetic! This concept is very much to HAVE FUN. Hell, League of Legends has an entire skinline with this concept. The point of not doing your own character was to encourage camaraderie and push the artists to get out of their comfort zone by drawing characters that they haven’t done very often. It takes a whole lot of horrific talent to turn something all about fun and camaraderie into something to humiliate a single individual. It is extremely disgusting.

So what do we have here all together?

An Emotionally Abusive and manipulative individual based on the following:

A person who likes to jump into screaming fits, threats of violence, personal insults, and refusing to hear anything other than his own voice, having and abusing a position of power, refusing to be accommodating to a person's trauma, invalidating said trauma, actively tried to get a person to relive that trauma for his personal gain, gets upset over his concept of “peace” being disrupted, does zero self-reflection and constantly imposes unequal rules via a “Rules for thee, but not for me” mentality, refuses to apologize and then actively hides when called out on his bullshit... This is who Reva is. This is how he has ALWAYS BEEN and likely will always be considering that he is hiding right now because "he moved on", a.k.a. refuses to take accountability and actively chose to not let me move on via giving me the answers I so desperately wanted and needed to move on.

But here is where we round out all of this. As I’ve shown before, the vents that he has done were in servers that I had no knowledge of. This is how they were able to talk about me behind my back. He even knew about @felicitythekittycat’s vents. They were in two servers that I didn’t know about and likely had far more people than my little server. I’m guessing that they had anywhere between 10-15 people minimum, could be below or above that line. Blatantly showing that it is because I’m not giving him all my attention and art. He views me as a punching bag and for that, I’m not allowed to complain about anything in his eyes. It’s considered “drama” until it actively affects him when no… this isn’t drama. These are actual problems and real crimes one can be punished for. He doesn’t care that felicitythekittycat pushed me into suicidal ideation and he condoned that behavior by joining in on it, and though his active inaction because here is the kicker… he knew exactly what she was doing and refused to look at any of my evidence until the last minute when he had lost my trust long ago. There was no turning back from that. Especially when he revealed my mental/emotional breakdown to people far outside my trusted circle. That was NOT his pain to share. Anyone in their right mind would be ashamed for doing that much.

Reva, if you’re reading this, which I truly do hope you are, the reason why I never went to you for anything is because I was dealing with so much shit and I was very much wary of men in my life for many, MANY reasons that you have ignored repeatedly and because you started off our “friendship” with an attack. You actively reinforced my fear and wariness towards men. I am not going to pet a dog that tried to kill me when I first met it. I’m also going to be scared of its species, because guess what? That’s what traumatic experiences can do to people, you dumb fuck.

So instead of screaming at me for never going to your immature, unreliable ass for anything… try looking in a mirror and ask yourself if maybe screaming at people when you first meet them is really a good idea and looks good on you. Oh and also, you’d never be a good CEO of Twitter. You’d make Elon Musk’s work look like a paradise. You can barely help run a server for dumbass little roleplays or handle cases of slander, you’d legit run that company to the ground and blame a random Starbucks barista for it. The shit I complained about were legitimate problems, NOT drama. Learn to read the fucking room instead of assuming everything is out to chop your baby chode off with a pair of rusty scissors.

If legitimate slander that is affecting my mental health is what you consider “drama”, then I’d HATE to see what you consider a crime…. Oh wait… I have… because I am the crime.

Me existing is an illegal act to you.

I wouldn’t be surprised if you were waiting with bated breath for me to off myself…. In that case you can keep waiting, motherfucker.

You said me and felicitythekittycat need to improve ourselves. Out of context, that is 100% a fair and understandable statement to make, but when it’s your mouth it came out of, I wonder just how blind you are to your own self-centered, narcissistic bullshit. IT IS OBVIOUSLY MORE THAN A ME AND HER PROBLEM. A TWO YEAR OLD COULD FIGURE THAT SHIT OUT.

I had a temper problem and kept on drawing boundaries. Felicitythekittycat had a habit for crossing them and slandering me behind my back, activities that you actively participated in and perpetuated ON IN TWO OF JESSIRONI'S SERVERS (turns out there are two servers and not just one). It’s like getting mad at a dog for biting your leg when you were the one who kicked it in the first place. You brought in FAR MORE people than I ever did in EVERY SINGLE FUCKING SITUATION THAT HAD ME RELATED TO OR IN IT. But I only had a whole 6 people whereas those secret servers had…. How many spectators? How many participants? You have a whole ass “Rules for thee but not for me” mentality here.

I legitimately hope you never confessed your feelings to that secret someone to spare them the absolute plight of your company. Even imagining you in a relationship makes me want to shit in my hands and clap in your general direction.

Okay I need to talk here straight up because I know that I’ve been losing my cool this entire post and I need to really just sit down and say this. When I was still on relatively… I suppose decent terms with Reva – (I don’t know nor do I believe if I was ever on good terms with him) – I was legitimately terrified of being screamed at and dogpiled virtually at literally any moment. In a way it was worse online because no matter how much evidence I had of felicitythekittycat‘s lies and proof of my innocence, he wouldn’t even look at it, nor would VishaRage or Poke – the owner of said RolePlay server – and I would be left unheard completely. I know that the question of why I have so much evidence and yet never used it to prove my innocence to those who are in power, well this is why. I was never heard. None of them wanted to give me the time of day unless I were the villain time and time again. Why? Well I shit you not… the delivery. I would be sarcastic like “Oh wow I’m such a horrible person” and then give my evidence. They wouldn’t even glance at it. Not even a quick skim of any of the screenshots. Why was I so sarcastic and sassy? I was tired of getting dogpiled and overwhelmed. I was tired of walking on eggshells all day every day with no break from it. So it’s no surprise that I gave up, especially in the last conversation I had with him. In our last conversation, he claimed he was trying to hear my side AFTER I pointed out that he never once tried to hear me out. I told him I didn’t believe him and blocked him. To be honest, I’d love to meet the bastard in real life just to see if he’d actually try to kill me. I’d tell him to just do it, fucking get it over with. There is one sole reason why I think all of this shit happened out of malicious intent and I’ll reveal it at the end of all of this.

I had taken a long break from writing this post not simply because of the holiday but because of the sheer amount of anxiety I get from looking at the screenshots that are about him and all his verbal abuse and threats towards my person. Mind you, I’m used to hearing screaming. I’m used to being bullied, but there is a breaking point and he and felicitythekittycat took full advantage of it and kept sprinting onwards. Killing me would’ve been a mercy.

[lorbanery]

Not me subtweeting another youtube video

Listen

One of the things that I really really appreciated about Hbomberguy's plagiarism video was his pointing out that sometimes people lie because of the attention it gets them. Which is something that a lot of people seem to, like, willfully ignore.

Like, back in the mid-00's there was a common phrase people threw around on the internet: "Why would anyone lie about being [oppressed identity]?" Usually followed up by a sarcastic list of the "benefits" of being said identity, which was just a list of the bigotry people with said identity face.

This argument always rubbed me the wrong way, for two reasons. 1) Pretending to be something you're not on the internet is (and was especially back then) really easy, as easy as saying "I'm [identity]". Any bigotry they might face online is, under normal circumstances, much easier to disengage from. And, crucially, just because they're presenting themselves in one way online doesn't even come close to meaning that they're doing the same thing IRL. 2) In the right circles? It actually does come with benefits! Folks with marginalized identities are often given a bit more grace, they're given sympathy, they're treated as experts in subjects surrounding that identity, and, in some cases and again in the right circles, they might be treated as just a little bit special or unique. And like yeah, that's kind of rooted in bigotry, the idea that being something other than cis, het, white, able-bodied makes you ~*Special*~, but that's beside the point.

This attitude that, unless money was involved somehow, there's no possible thing that anyone could get out of lying is so prevalent to this day that hearing HBG push back against it even gently even briefly was a huge breath of fresh air.

Because of course it's not about money! Or at least not entirely. If all Somerton had wanted to do was become rich off of low-effort content, he could've just started a shitty reaction channel where he just watches Tiktoks and makes the :O face the entire time. But no, the other thing he wanted was community and more than that, to be a respected figure in said community. He fashioned himself an intellectual with a lot of community-specific knowledge and Correct Opinions. He specifically courted an audience who would look up to him for that and brutally attacked anyone who threatened it. It was the status and respect as much as anything else that he sought out.

Now why am I rehashing all this.

Because I was watching this video about a guy who was considered one of the greatest players in the world of a particular video game until people caught him cheating.

I don't really want to go into too many specifics because it's not important. But the narrator of the video wrapped it up by wondering why the cheater did what he did, why he spent 4 years and so much time and energy faking his play footage. Because he only made a couple thousand dollars and it isn't a very popular gaming community.

And while I was listening to this, I was just sitting there and wondering if the narrator had actually listened to his own script, because it seems so obvious to me.

The cheater was a teenager when he posted his first legit video and it garnered a lot of attention from some very high-level players in the community. He spent the next few years legitimately collabing in person with some of those people, and uploading faked game footage. It barely took any time at all for him to be declared the greatest player in the world.

You see where I'm going with this, right?

Like, being a teenager is fucking lonely for a lot of people. It's isolating on a profound level, even for those of us who actually had a relatively good experience in high school. I don't find it odd at all that a teenager who was suddenly inundated with excited comments from a small but passionate community telling him how great he was and inviting him into their spaces would then start fudging some shit to keep their attention and praise until it gets way out of hand.

The fact that the second he was caught without a shadow of a doubt, he deleted his videos save for the explanation video he made, deleted his social media, refunded the money he did "earn", and just left the community. Because what's the point when he's clearly lost all of their respect. Because if there had been any other reason for him doing it, he might have tried a little harder to come up with reasons why the oddities that were noticed were actually just video glitches or his software acting up or whatever.

But no, the community and the support were what was important, so when he lost that, of course he just disappeared.

And you know what? I might be completely wrong, at the end of the day neither I nor the youtuber knows what was going through this guy's head.

But it also leaves a bad taste in my mouth for the subject of this video — a guy who was a teenager for the majority of his transgressions — to be treated the same as a grown ass man in achiever of their videos who appears to lie like it's his favorite hobby that he can't put down and has been lying about his video game accomplishments for like forty years and has garnered things like professionally produced documentaries about him because of those alleged accomplishments.

[regrettablewritings]

Hi!😁 I'll give you another ship with my dear Lucifer morningstar from Lucifer cuz as it turns out I'm a hoe for a lot of characters but what can ya do? Thank you!

Aw hell yii, somebody's talkin' my lingo! 😎

Who the fuck put the Peeps in the microwave?: Lucifer. And no, it's not because he actually likes them or is curious about what would happen; he's seen plenty of Youtube videos enough to know exactly what happens. No . . . It's far more malicious . . . Generally speaking, you don't like the constant comparison of cats to the devil. But after getting to actually meet The Devil, you think that those believers might be on to something. Lucifer's whorey ways bleeds into his need for attention like red bleeds into white in the wash, and he's completely shameless about it. For example, if he feels like you may be focusing too much on work or, gasp, other people besides him, you run the risk of encountering a very . . . mischievous Luci. Not that he's not already a prankster, but he somehow becomes a bit more childish. Catlike in some respects. He puts your mugs up higher than what you can normally reach without having to climb on the countertop. He joins you at your kitchen table while you're reading over files for work and puts on his most angelic face, insisting he just wants to keep you company and will be as quiet as vermin in Dear Old Dad's house . . . then proceed to obnoxiously click a pen while pretending to solve a word problem, or eat cheese puffs obnoxiously loud. And then . . . the Peeps: The absolute prettyboy bastard used your microwave as a casualty of war, plopping the unplated, mutant-colored marshmallows directly on the glass and letting them go. To be fair, it technically didn't ruin anything. But at least he had your attention now -- because after fussing at him for making a mess, you were currently supervising him scrubbing not only the effected areas of the glass dish, but the rest of the microwave as well. Unfortunately, you can't say a lesson was really learned because now Luci knows that if he wants to get a rise out of you, what he needs is a bunch of candies from the bargain bin.

Who forgot to put the cat out before sex?: It's not that either of you forgot the cat was there -- it was that Lucifer wanted the bloody animal to give the both of you some privacy. And because Lucifer forgot the cat was there. He was simply too busy embracing you in a liplock and laying you down on the couch to notice the glaring eyes of the cat you had rescued from the shelter. Thankfully, you two didn't get very far before the lovingly-named Lucipurr released a meow, indicating that he had become flesh and bone in the few hours it had been since you'd last fed him. Suffice to say, after a startled Lucifer flung himself off of you and onto the floor, nearly breaking his ass on the coffee table (and the laughing fit that had induced on your end), the mood was killed. For the next fifteen minutes, that is. The next time he tried anything, Lucifer made sure that his efforts would be continued in the bedroom (but not before he did a complete check of every nook and cranny in there to make sure the furry bastard wasn't trying anything).

Who posts Vines/TikToks of the other doing embarrassing shit?: Lucifer absolutely lacks boundaries. The moment he discovered smartphones, social media, and all their potential, he was all in and recording as many videos of friends and coworkers as he could in as many awkward or unideal situations as they came. You felt bad for Dan being his constant target, but you were somewhat sure that Dan felt bad for you in a way: After all, you were dating the freaking guy and yet Lucifer had few qualms about posting a video of you, drunkenly singing karaoke in what was supposed to be a private room? Harsh.

Who breaks the most phones?: Lucifer does. He's not necessarily careless, but his part-time occupation does lead him to circumstances that tend to put his phone in danger. You, Chloe, Dan, literally everyone has told him to just leave his phone in the car if he's going to get it broken that often while on the job, but the dumbass never learns. Not that he really seems to care all that much: With his wealth, he can always buy a new one. Though, the only times he gets frustrated is when photos or videos don't quite make it to the transfer and things get lost along the way. Funny photos, suggestive videos, photos and videos of you . . . Photos and videos of you being funny or suggestive . . . Downright pornographic videos he had recorded of you -- Though don't worry: He's sure you'll be more than happy to help recreate the latter. He'd gladly help you . . .

Who dies first?: It should go without saying. It really should. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. Lucifer was always one to get caught up in his indulgences, after all: Somewhere along the way, he must've gotten too swept up in the thrill, the feeling of adoration. He tells himself this but it's really just denial. Closer to the truth is that it all really was just denial: He denied the idea that you would ever leave him, that you would ever die. Luci was never good with his own thoughts and feelings, but the way you made him feel was nearly enough to convince him that, in some way, you would just plain live forever. But of course, this was not the case: It didn't matter that you were fantastical enough to love and be loved by the Devil; you were still very much a human. Very much mortal. So susceptible to things like time and illness and injury. Lucifer was the King of Indulgences. It was extremely rare for him to experience regret. But when your time inevitably ran out, remorse filled him like smoke filled his lungs with every cigarette he ran through from the moment your funeral arrangements were decided. He could never regret knowing you, as much as part of him thought doing so would spare him this pain. He tried to think of how much better he might've been had he never met you, and it always felt like he was stuck in his own personal Hell Loop with everything going wrong over and over no matter how hard he tried to change it. He regretted that for as much time as he lived up with you, he felt like he didn't use nearly enough of that time to just . . . enjoy you. You in your mortality, your fleeting beauty and love that would nonetheless haunt him for however long he might go on for. So maybe . . . for eternity? This didn't feel like his own personal Hell Loop: This was his own personal Hell Loop. And until he learned to forgive himself, it would never end. So he'd be stuck here for maybe . . . eternity.

Which one I could see as being lactose intolerant: Neither. Unless they get brought down to mortal enough, Celestials generally don't suffer ailments, let alone from things like food allergies.

Who thinks they can do something really well even though they can't?: Lucifer . . . It's not that he's not smart. But by Dad, he is lacking in so much self-awareness that it can be maddening. He thinks he's pretty good at following Dr. Linda's advice (and, to an extent, he's progressing). But the fact of the matter is, he's incredibly troubling at best. Not nearly as bad as some patients, mind you, but when Linda admitted to you that one or two sessions of Lucifer completely misinterpreting her advice nearly drove her to consider adding a secret bar into her desk, you believed her and didn't blame her for one bit.

Who is more likely to get kicked out of bed?: Lucifer is a changed devil. But it's a very slow change. You're more than happy to understand and accept this, but that doesn't mean you have to let him and his issues walk all over you. Sometimes, the big dummy just says or does things without thinking -- or because he thought too hard and thought this was the best decision to avoid further strife. And you try to be patient with him about these tendencies, you really do. But that doesn’t erase your ability to be upset by these habits, or your right to be. And no amount of him buttering you up is going to be acceptable, even when he comes by your place, armed with a dish he so thoughtfully prepared for you. Nope, he can literally go to Hell with that (really, you’re sure the demons there would appreciate a nice beef wellington); you just need some space. Ironically, this may create a cycle wherein his need to make you happy again and have your attention on him drives him to constantly hover around you and attempt to win you over, which in turn just further frustrates you. It’ll likely keep going until you either snap or a loved one pulls Luci to the side and gives him a heads up that maybe he should respect your boundaries. After all, intention isn’t the problem here: It’s the actions taken. And as much as it hurts him knowing that he accidentally hurt you, he has to respect your need for time to cool off. He forces himself to go back to his place and tries to think less about how he feels and more about how you might feel, and try to work out ways to avoid similar incidents in the future. And even though the conclusions he comes to may not be perfect, you at least respect the effort -- particularly when he next sees you, no longer armed with snacks from your favorite bakery or bouquet-carrying teddy bears. Instead, all he has is an apology. It’s sheepish, and it feels foreign to someone who rarely experiences shame or regret, but you know his whole heart is in it even if he himself doesn’t understand entirely why that is. Which is good because that’s just part one of the process; part two involves him warming up that spot in your bed that’s reserved for him!

Who uses the computer the most?: You, absolutely. Lucifer's adorably but altogether completely crap when it comes to technology. Besides, he can easily find other things with which to amuse himself, and doing the paperwork is for other people anyway.

Thank you sooooo much for participating again!!! It really means a lot!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

[bruhstories]

Personal Demon

Summary: Because of a mistake, you're assigned a devil instead of an angel. Pairing: Demon!Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader Warnings & Conent: oh boy, here we go - language, mentions of suicide, mentions of self harm, mentions of rape, fingering, unprotexted sex, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of reader in an asylum, sliiiiight dumbification of reader, slight corruption of reader, Eren's a little shit Word Count: 3.9 k

A/N: So I wrote this in, like, 3-4 days because I felt like it's pretty bad but not bad enough not to post it. I hope you still enjoy it, though!

You always felt it — breathing in your nape, moving in the corner of your room at night, whispering things you shouldn't dare think about. Your own personal demon. Most of the time you did a good job at ignoring it. Most of the time you abused substances to make it go away, at least for a minute. With the puff of weed or a bottle of alcohol, it stayed away, only watching from afar and never involving itself with you. Most of the time.

Keys clung in your hands, door shutting behind as you walked into your apartment, fingers wrapped around your grocery bags. Yet another night of drinking the voice away.

"Not today, Satan." You hummed, popping open a bottle of gin, nose scrunching at the bitter taste.

"I keep telling you, the easiest way to get rid of me would be to kill yourself." It spoke, this time outside of your head.

"And I keep telling you to stay the fuck away from me." You growled back.

"We both know that's not possible."

Another sip and you put the bottle down, hands digging inside the bag for a snack.

"You're gonna need something stronger than that."

There it was, the bar of chocolate you so eagerly starved for. The TV suddenly turned on. It was craving entertainment.

"Anything unusual happened today?"

No, it was craving attention and you were not about to give it any. You put the groceries inside the fridge and grabbed the bottle, plopping on the couch.

"How long are you going to pretend I'm not here?"

"As long as I need." You snapped back, eyes glued to the TV.

"Well, that didn't last long." It laughed. "Come on, Y/N, we've been together for, what, 24 years?"

"Can you just shut up? Disappear? Crawl back to Hell?"

"Nope. Waaaaait, I know why you've got your panties in a twist. It's because that Jean guy you like hooked up with Mikasa, right?"

It was impossible to deal with. Every single second, it was there. Since you've been born, it was there, always watching, always following you, always. You tried to go to a priest, a monk, anything, but nothing helped. The angel that was supposed to guide you happened to be a demon and there was nothing you could do about it. But you were not going to give it the satisfaction of ending your pathetic life, no matter how much you wanted to, because despite being a demon, it still had to keep you alive until your time came. It, however, did like to push you over the edge, push you until you grabbed a knife and slit your wrists, only for the knife to get shoved by some invisible force before you could finish the job. It tormented you and it loved it.

"I told you, not today, Satan."

"Ugh, my name's-"

"I don't care." Your head snapped into the direction of the voice, only to be met with a wall. "Let's face it, we shouldn't have been in this situation, so why don't you shut your mouth up and let me get on with my life?"

"What life?" It laughed and you could already picture the sneer on its face, flashing you fangs and a forked tongue. "That's not even what I look like."

"Get out of my head!" You screamed before grabbing the bottle and emptying half of its contents.

"Careful, Y/N, the neighbours might call the police and you don't want to end up like last time, do you?"

Last time... you were but a child, throwing plates at the wall only to make it stop talking when your parents admitted you to an asylum. You had to live with it for half a year before they let you out.

"Please, please stay out of my head." Tears pooled at your eyes as you clutched the bottle at your chest.

"Now why would I stay out when it's just so much fun in you?"

"God, I hate you so much!"

"Me or beardy up there? I couldn't quite get it." It laughed again, laughing at your damn misery as you got up from the couch and left the apartment.

The alcohol already made its way to your brain when you reached the ground floor of the building. Rain poured outside but you didn't care, you just ran as far away from it as possible and for the first time in years, it didn't follow you. Grateful and content, you slowed down, admiring the beauty of the city which you ignored because of the voice inside of your head. The smell of rain, the colourful buildings, the empty streets, everything felt new and refreshing, and you took it all in. Time seemed to slow down without itconstantly nagging in the back of your mind and you realised you were pretty far away from your home, an area unknown to you. Still, you knew how to get back, you hoped, but when you turned around, a man pushed you into an alleyway.

"Satan?" You whispered, dizzy from the lingering gin and smell of rain. The man pinned you to a wall and finally you were beginning to realise what was happening.

"Call me whatever you want, baby, just keep that pretty voice down." His hand moved up your thigh and panic seeped through your veins. "We don't want to draw any attention, now, do we?" He kissed your neck and you froze on the spot, eyes widening in fear and body shivering.

"L-let go of me!" You managed, the alcohol numbing your arms, rendering you unable to push the stranger away.

"Shhh, don't fight it." The man squeezed your arms, his fingers bruising the soft skin. Anger, sadness and pain coiled together in your chest and you couldn't breathe anymore. Oh, how you wished you never left your flat, how you wished you stayed back and listened to itconstantly yapping, like a maggot crawling into your brain. "Aren't you a pretty one?" He cooed, his hand travelling lower, lower, to the point where tears started rolling down your cheeks, mixing with the snot and rain on your face.

And then it happened — in the blink of an eye, your assailant was thrown against the other wall by the too familiar invisible force as you sank to the ground, eyes puffy and red, legs trembling.

"The fuck? What are you?" The man hissed at you, his hands holding his abdomen.

"I'm the devil." It spoke, voice inhuman and perilous, and you could only sneer at him. For the first time you were happy it was there. Sick, twisted thoughts invaded your mind and you wanted to watch him suffer, and itknew. It knew, because the devil was always in your head.

"You crazy bitch!" The assailant, now helpless and overpowered, did not know about your own personal demon, and he tried to get up, tried to leap forward at you and strangle the last bit of air out of your lungs, but he couldn't. Somethingwas holding him back.

"You want him dead?" It asked, but you know the devil took more pleasure in inflicting pain rather than swiftly killing.

"No." You grinned, eyes dark and dangerous. "I want him to suffer."

"That's my girl."

Blood-curling screams echoed in the alleyway. You didn't know what it was doing to him, but you knew for a fact that you were enjoying the sounds that came out of your attacker. His wrists contorted in a way you didn't think was possible, and the melody of broken bones reminded you that what was happening was wrong. For a moment, your brain was rational, telling you that it should stop, that you should both just leave and forget this ever happened. But... it also felt good, it felt like you've just been reborn, discovering a deeply buried part of you that ached to be exposed. Then, his legs twisted and the man winced in pain, so much pain, and your heart fluttered in your chest.

"More?" It asked and you nodded.

"More."

His arms looped, like a deformed puppet loosely strung, and it made him dance in the rain until his body gave up from fatigue.

"Aw, I was really hoping he'd be a feisty one." It mused, and you also clicked your tongue in disappointment. Before you left, you gave your assailant a good kick in the stomach, your boot stomping on his face with so much anger and force that what remained was unrecognisable.

Wet clothes piled on the floor, you wrapped your naked body in a blanket to warm yourself up. What just happened? What did you do? Why did you allow it to happen and more importantly, why did you love every minute of it? The questions jogged in your fuzzy brain, as you slowly sobered up.

"Why did I enjoy it, Satan?" You asked, lips quivering.

"I told you, my name's not Satan, it's-"

"Eren, I know. I remember." You could feel it quirk a brow, surprised and impressed by its name rolling down your tongue so naturally. "Why did I enjoy it? It's wrong and disgusting."

"Do you remember what happens when you say my name?" It sounded almost concerned.

"You physically manifest, I know. Now answer my fuckingquestion."

"What do you want me to say?" Itasked, fragments of muscle, skin and silk pulling together from thin air. First, its legs. Then, its upper body, draped in a charcoal-black robe. "That you're as sadistic as I am? Maybe it wasn't a mistake that you have a demon, not an angel." And finally, its face materialised in front of you — long dark brown hair falling down his shoulders and eyes so green, it felt like a forest was in them. It looked almost human, the hooked nose, the elongated ears, the deeply sunken emeralds and jagged mouth betraying its true nature.

"I thought you'd have fangs." Was your only response at the scene unfolding in front of you, blanket clutched at your chest. Any normal person would shudder at the demonic sight of Eren appearing in front of them, but to you, it felt comforting to finally assign a face to the voice you so desperately tried to ignore.

"And I thought you wanted to get rid of me." It scoffed, its facial features changing, becoming softer and resembling a human man, but those eyes didn't change an ounce.

"I don't know what I want anymore. If it weren't for you, I would've been raped and dead, probably."

"Just embrace it, Y/N. Just let go of that annoying voice in your head that tells you it's wrong." He encouraged. "There's no such thing as good or bad, right or wrong. It's just surviving, adapting or dying."

Eren looked unbelievably human and incredibly handsome in the dim light of your living room lamp. Maybe it was the alcohol that hasn't left your body yet, or maybe it was the fact that he saved you, again, but the truth was that the devil in your house was making you feel something you couldn't even feel for Jean — and you thought you were in love with Jean.

"Alright, let's pretend for a moment that I give into temptation." Your eyes found his and you felt hypnotised, the rational part of your brain slowly overshadowed by your instincts and feelings. "What then? Do you leave me alone? Do you go back to hell? Do Igo to hell?"

"Oh, I wouldn't call it hell. More like a demonic paradise." He shrugged, eyes bored and blank, devout of any emotion. You leaned forward trying to search for something in his darkened orbs.

"Why are you being nice to me? You're supposed to save me from death, not rape."

He clicked his tongue, your question drilling into his brain, repeating itself over and over again. Why did he save you? It's not like he cared, he only did his job, right? Right?

Wrong.

The demon you grew up with, the demon who tormented you, the demon who tried so desperately to ruin your life did, in fact, give two shits about you and your pathetic existence. Just not in the way you thought.

"Let's just say no one gets to touch you but me." Eren closed the gap between you two, his nose almost grazing over yours. He was absolutely intoxicating and you always fought with the constant need to let him control you. After all, he was always with you, he saw you hit your lowest points, he saw the best of you, he saw your naked body, he saw everything, ergo you were his. Your head quickly turned to the side before you leaned back, exhaustion written all over your face as Eren clicked his tongue. The thing about demons was that they couldn't physically interfere without their human's consent, only using invisible force to stop you from dying and he was just so close.

"Ah, but you can't touch me, though." You trailed off, brow quirked at his narrowed eyes. You've done your homework, you knew what he needed, but still, that side of you tried to prevail over the side that craved his touch.

"Yet." Eren snapped back before your drifted to sleep.

Once again you dreamt of it him, his cock buried deep inside your needy cunt as you screamed his name over and over again while you came undone. When you jolted up from your sleep, he was there, watching you, like a predator stalking its prey. Normally he wouldn't be there, but since you called his name, Eren was glaring down at your helpless body, famished for something only you could give him.

"What's the time?" You groaned, fingers rubbing your eyelids.

"Three in the morning." He answered, eyes glued to you. "Bad dream?" The demon sneered. You knew he'd been in your head again, you knew those dreams existed for a reason.

"They wouldn't be bad if you'd just stay the fuck out of my mind." You hummed with a fake smile.

"Alright then, look me in the eye and tell me, reallytell me you want me to leave you alone." But you couldn't and he knew it. "Stop fighting it, Y/N. For two decades you kept trying. Maybe you should stop being stubborn and just give in." Eren shrugged, his voice tempting and you only wondered if that's how Eve felt when the snake tempted her. You weren't a Christian by any means, but you knew the story well enough to figure out the consequences.

"I have work tomorrow. Please let me sleep." You got up from the couch, blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

And that's when Eren reached his limits. He followed you into your bedroom, something knocking the wind out of you as you fell on the mattress. Somethingpulling the blanket off of you. Somethingtravelling down your arms, goosebumps dotting your skin as he stood in the doorway.

"I can't touch you, but I can do so many things to you." He inched closer, his figure imposing and dangerous and you could feel your core burning. "I can smell your arousal, Y/N. I know you want it. You just have to say it." Eren demanded and you hated that he was right. Slowly but surely, the battle in your heart and mind was coming to an end the more he got closer to the bed. "Say it."

You whined and writhed in pain and pleasure, and in the blink of an eye your life flashed before your eyes as you came to the conclusion that you've tried so hard to stay away from the demon, but either he was too persistent, or you were too weak. Or you just simply wanted him to ravage you and you were okay with that. Your hands stopped moving, your body stopped fighting.

"Do it..." You half-begged, judgement clouded, vision blurry. "Please, do it! Touch me, break me, fuck me, please! I need you, need to feel you..."

Like some sort of spell had just been lifted, Eren felt relieved. The sight of your sprawled body, combined with the lustful look in your lidded eyes only fed his hunger and he was famished. Calloused fingertips grazed over your knees, up your thighs, sending chills down your spine as you arched your back, pulling the demon closer to your face.

"Kiss me?" You asked, voice sweet and needy and he crushed his lips onto yours. They were surprisingly soft, tasting of whiskey and honey and the flavour lingered on your lips after he pulled away. Your body quivered under his touch, yearning for more, hands tugging at his silken robe to expose the chiselled chest. Eren pressed his forehead onto yours, hot breath tickling your cheeks.

"I'm going to ruin you, Y/N." He dug his teeth into your shoulder, the imprint burning into your skin, all the pent-up frustration slowly being released with each movement. He dragged one hand over your breasts before settling on one nipple, fingers pinching it to earn a reaction out of you. A whimper escaped from your lips as you pushed your chest upwards, wanting him closer than the laws of physics would allow. Your slender hands tangled in his locks as Eren left a trail of purple marks and bites all over your neck and shoulder.

"Fill me up, please..."

"Patience." He mused. "I've waited so many years for this, you can wait a few more minutes." Head buried between your tits, his hand travelled lower until it found your wet cunt. Fingers grazed over your folds before he drove his index into your soaked pussy and that's when you knew just how much you craved him. Your silken walls clenched around his curled-up finger and your neediness made him add another one, moans drilling through his eardrums, into his brain. "Fuck, you're so wet..." Eren hummed, vibrations tickling your skin. You couldn't form a coherent sentence even if your life counted on it. All you could think about was that if his fingers stretched you, his cock would tear your cunt apart — and you reallywanted to feel that. Fingernails dug into his back and he hissed, his tongue flicking your nipple and all the build-up was too much for you.

"Eren, please..." You mewled, your chest rising and falling with each breath, with each touch, each lick.

"You want me to fuck you? Want me to tear you apart?" The demon growled. His sudden change in tone only further added fuel to the fire inside your core and you eagerly nodded.

"Yes, God — yes! But Eren, I want to see you, not this pretty face you put on." You pleaded, eyes teary and demanding.

"No." He simply answered and that instantly made you jolt up, forcefully pushing him off of you.

"Are you trying to screw with my mind again? You've literally been with me for 24 years!" You shouted, and even Eren was slightly confused. "You tormented me for two decades, put me in an asylum, constantly stopped me from killing myself and now I can't even see the real you?" You threw your hands at him and he caught your wrists with ease. "You owe me at least that, Satan." Tears freely rolled down your face and you could feel his hot tongue lick the salty drops from your cheek. Your pain was his pleasure, he was a demon after all, the embodiment of all evil, but he decided you were corruptedenough to at least see his true colours, which you only managed to glance at.

"You're right, Y/N," Eren kissed your forehead and you couldn't even notice the manipulative hints in his voice, "you deserve at least this." He pulled back, and slowly his face distorted, allowing you to look at his disfigured mouth, elongated ears and abnormally long tongue.

"Thank you, thank you!" You beamed with bright eyes.

The woman who battled her demon? Gone.

In her place stood only a shell of a person, whose sole purpose was to get fucked by the demon in front of her. You feverishly parted his lips with your tongue, touch-starved and desperate, and Eren threw you onto the bed, robe pooled on the floor. And you were right, his cock wouldtear you apart by the looks of it. Before he could do anything, you spread your legs for him, like a good little slut, mouth agape and nothing but lust in your eyes. The sneer on his face was unlike anything you've seen before, and it both terrified and aroused you.

"Eager to please, aren't you?" He climbed onto the bed, the velvety tip of his cock barely touching your wet slit.

"I'm begging you, Eren, please fuck me!"

The demon scoffed at your pathetic words, but he couldn't deny how much he loved to hear your needy voice. You wouldn't have to know that, of course. He ever so slowly pushed the tip in between your folds, your cunt greedily taking it all in while you whimpered at the foreign sensation.

"Shhh," Eren cooed at you mockingly, "you love it, don't you?"

"Y-yes, please, d-deeper..."

Was it really you speaking or was this another one of his demonic tricks? And more importantly, did it even matter that he made you say those things when his cock felt just so good inside of you? Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you as Eren thrusts became harder. Your tits bounced with every move, pleasure engulfing both of you and you never knew demons fucked so raw.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He hissed into your ear, the compliment only making you clench your walls around his impossibly hard cock. "Such a good girl." Eren praised you, knowing perfectly well how much you lacked appreciation from your parents, knowing perfectly well how your childhood traumas and frustration only aided him. He was your demon, after all. When your only response was to roll your eyes at the back of your head like a possessed woman, Eren picked up the pace, his abnormal tongue licking at your collarbone.

"D-do you l-like it?" You asked, concerned that he might not be satisfied with you. He wouldn't be fucking you so hard if he didn't, but you were so brainwashed that nothing made sense anymore.

"I do, doll, now be a good whore and rub that clit, will you?" The demon urged and with a shaky hand you complied, the friction mixed with his thrusts sending you into a frenzy. You were close and he knew it.

"Oh, f-fuck! Eren!"

His cock hit that sweet spot and you were done for, your legs loosened around his waist, falling onto the bed, but he kept on fucking you.

"My turn." Eren growled, his hands lifting your hips like you were some sort of ragdoll between his fingers. Your vision blurred, every word you tried to utter lost in your throat the more he buried himself into you, yet somehow you still managed to clench your walls. With one final thrust you felt him spill his hot seed, cum dripping out of your sore cunt as he pulled out.

Eren plopped next to you and you curled up in a ball, head on his chest. You were craving his attention, his care, but he responded by bringing his hands behind his head, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. He wanted to hold you tightly, he wanted to pet your head, but he couldn’t. And you were alright with that, because you knew that, no matter what, you would always have your own personal demon at your side.

[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.

[itsclydebitches]

So I'm curious what are some character designs you love? Not from RWBY, but just i general. I'm the same anon who got you to check out Berserk and I'd say essentially all of the designs are done damn well. Fit the character. Changes that makes sense for growth. Also make sense given the setting. Even women in armor that doesn't have those massive boob plates. Good designs impact so much subconsciously to have much we enjoy other aspects of a story.

Congratulations! You’ve unlocked my never-ending need to praise Yu Yu Hakusho! :D 

This long, picture-laden post needs two disclaimers going forward: 

I’m not an artist. In the sense that I’m not a visual artist who knows anything about what makes character design good from a technical/community approved standpoint. This is purely based on my own, personal reaction to a beloved series. 

Connected to that, I’m going into this under the assumption that people might really disagree with me (?). Based on the cartoons and anime that I see praised for character design, I don’t think YYH fits whatever list more knowledgeable viewers are pulling from. But I’m gonna lay out my thinking anyway! 

Major spoilers for Yu Yu Hakusho below. 

Alright let’s do this. 

First off, when people start talking character design they often reference how cool a character is. Which makes sense. You want a character to be visually engaging and distinct. Something that makes you go “Wow!” whenever you look at them. However, one of the things I love about the YYH cast is how normal they are. Because they’re supposed to be normal. The trope of the main character having a crazy hair color has become so prominent that we’ve got memes about it now and that works for a lot of stories. You know who is important because, despite the assumption that they’re average people not dying their hair, they stick out like a sore thumb among the rest of the cast. 

However, normalcy is a really important part of YYH. The entire point at the start is that Yusuke is not special. He’s not unique. He’s a delinquent kid who most assume isn’t going anywhere in life. When he dies this doesn’t unlock some Super Special Backstory - you were innately amazing all along! - he just gets caught up in the plot because of a paperwork issue. The afterlife doesn’t know what to do with an asshole kid who unexpectedly saved another kid’s life so they just kind of... shuffle him around until he’s given another chance to live. Then he gets to pay back that second chance by becoming a Spirit Detective. Yeah, Yusuke is talented when it comes to fighting and spirit energy, but at the start that’s rarely emphasized outside of “He’s the best street fighter among no-name street fighters so really, it’s not impressive once you take Yusuke out of his tiny world of school parking lots and the occasional alleyway.” The takeaway is that he’s a dime-a-dozen troubled teen who got involved in the spirit world due to an impulsive act and a bunch of bureaucracy. Indeed, it’s a HUGE moment of emotional growth for Yusuke to realize that people do love him despite his supposedly average, unremarkable, and otherwise negative personality. His normal-ness - and others’ expectation that he could someday make himself great if he learns to work at it - is crucial to where Yusuke starts out. Making him visually distinct in terms of Anime Protagonist Looks would undermine a lot of that. This isn’t supposed to be a Super Special Kid Destined For Greatness. He’s just... a kid. A normal kid. A kid who has to work and learn and grow if he wants to make something of himself. So he gets black hair, brown yes, and a green school uniform. He’s pretty damn average looking. 

Same with Kuwabara. Same with Keiko. Same with Atsuko. They’re just normal people going about their lives and I always appreciated that they looked the part. You can still easily tell them apart thanks to different hair colors, texture, jaw lines, and outfits, but none of them seem out of place in the average world they start out in. Which, as said, is crucial to a lot of YYH’s themes. The ones who look more visually distinct - Hiei and Botan - aren’t human. It makes sense that they wouldn’t obey these same average laws of the rest of the cast and they are our first taste of a world that, in terms of character design, will eventually get pretty wonderfully weird. They function as stepping stones. 

This eventually becomes a story about the demon world and those demons wouldn’t come across as particularly scary/other if you begin the story with equally strange looking humans. Or even just “I don’t see people who look like that walking down the street” humans. Alongside many themes, there’s a contrast at work here. Yusuke stepping out into a stadium full of demons who despise him because of his species hits home when he is so clearly distinct from them. Suddenly, his normal is abnormal. 

Once the ball gets rolling, Yusuke’s looks are constantly in contrast with both his environment and his inner self. He looks like a scary thug but then unexpectedly saves a life. He looks like an average human but is actually the strongest among a group of scary-looking demons. He looks like this badass spirit detective who everyone assumes with have an equally badass spirit beast but, uh... 

Oh my god that’s a precious baby. By the time our cast is family and everyone accepts that Yusuke looks scarier than he actually is or ever was - once the core group is made up of not just humans but demon loving humans who are equally soft - we turn it all on its head again and reveal that Yusuke has demon blood. For the first time he looks as strange and powerful as he is. Yusuke’s normality is done away with the second he’s fully accepted his place in these worlds, throwing everything back into chaos. 

Yusuke’s demon form becomes even more foreign looking  when he’s being controlled by his ancestral father. The above is a Yusuke who is still Yusuke and in many respects the design reflects that: natural hair color, human body, tattoos easily covered up with a shirt. When he’s gone full Mazoku though, something dangerous, the white, wilder hair and change to his expressions ensure we read him as something feral. For the first time in the series Yusuke is truly the dangerous creature he’s pretended to be since his principal was running after him at school. 

As a side-note about character costumes, we see this emphasis on normality in their outfits as well. Obviously a story like RWBY is limited by how much time/money they have for animation, but it nevertheless has an impact to see the group almost constantly in their battle gear. They’re never not the main characters of an action-fantasy show, not even while just out around town with no expectation of entering a fight.  

In contrast, Yusuke and Kuwabara are often animated in everyday clothing that remind us that they’re really just teens trying to live their lives outside of this crazy nonsense. Kuwabara wasn’t even formally hired for all this! The cast wears sweaters and jackets while out and about. More formal clothes for special occasions. Jeans and t-shirts when they’re unexpectedly caught up in a fight because, you know, they’re not ready for battle every second of every day. They’re drawn like normal folks because, outside of the ring, they are. 

(We’ve also got a lot of parallels between Yusuke and Kuwabara’s civilian clothing, visually reminding us that they’re far more alike than they might be willing to admit.)

Despite often changing outfits, the group maintains a basic color pallet that makes them recognizable, yet it’s also not so limited that they appear strange for sticking to one (1) color for the entire time we know them. Yusuke, like most people, is drawn to particular colors, mostly greens, yellows, and blues, so each time we see him he’s familiar while also being distinct from the last time he changed. 

Hiei, as someone who initially wants nothing to do with anyone else and relies on assassin-like speed to take out his enemies, is dressed almost entirely in black. Without that bit of white in his scarf/hair you’d lose him in the shadows... which is the point. 

When he opens up and actually becomes friends with the team, his color pallet starts opening up a great deal too.  

And we’re shown all the little changes he starts incorporating that speak to his growth: his Jagan eye, a bandaged arm hiding his Dragon of the Darkness Flame, the necklace connecting him to Yukina. 

I’ve blathered on about the outfits enough but as a quick final note: EVERYONE WEARS APPROPRIATE FIGHTING CLOTHES. 

No one (even the women to my recollection) wear heels. Everything is loose-fitted and looks easy to move in. They’ve got sensible belts, bandages if they need them, and... that’s it. No unnecessary bells and whistles that distract from what’s supposed to be the story’s real draw: good fights and good characterization. Even the more elaborately styled characters (usually) look like they chose their outfits practically first and for the aesthetic after. At no point do I recall watching this show and going, “WHY would you wear that to a fight??” 

Anyway, back to the designs. 

The exceptions to either side of these extremes - from human normal to demon monstrous - are Genkai and Kurama, both of whom straddle the line. Genkai is someone who has pushed her spirit and body far past the norm. She’s the first human we meet who truly goes beyond that normality, even if you don’t immediately realize it. Her pink hair (such a soft color in her old age it’s not at all distracting) is a slight hint that something isn’t quite right with her. She’s obviously human... but not a normal human. Not anymore. 

Those unnatural looks are emphasized in her youth when she was at the height of her power. 

Genkai as a young woman has vibrantly pink hair (a bright pastel like Botan’s), a softer face, and far more emotive eyes. She looks ethereal, which fits not just her own journey to power but Togoru’s as well. Her story is intimately tied up in what that power does to the human body/soul. So Toguro starts out like this 

a pretty normal looking guy who is on the far end of what the human body is naturally capable of. He’s buff as hell, but not so much that it looks unreasonable. I’ve seen body builders bigger than him. He’s the average (dehydrated...) MCU superhero. However, he ends up like this

In Togoru’s case his abnormality is explicitly presented as grotesque. Rather than giving him a cool looking characteristic that’s clearly supernatural (blue hair, an extra eye, curly horns, etc.), we’ve taken a human characteristic (muscles) and expanded them to an unnatural degree. He’s got some uncanny valley shit going on. 

Paralleling Genkai, we likewise see Kurama subtly standing out among his human allies. 

He’s a demon in a human’s body. By in-world logic his appearance should be just as normal as anyone else’s, but a bit of his true nature shines through. His hair is long in a style not popular in YYH’s Japan. His red is far less of a natural shade than Kuwabara’s. He carries himself with the air of someone who is ancient, because he is. His human design deliberately reflects his true demon form so when that’s finally revealed we still recognize him as Kurama. 

(Same sort of work with Hiei’s demon form.) 

When we look at the cast together we have an immediate, visual impression as to who is normal and who is not - and those assumptions are embedded into the story. Yusuke is someone you’d overlook in the crowd, but he’s the most powerful. Kurama is clearly other in some way, but he’s desperate to live an average, human life. Kuwabara is designed to look and move like the fool and a lot of his development (his and others’ in relation to him, really. Like Hiei) is built around respecting him despite those looks. Hiei is tiny but will kick your ass. Genkai is tinier and will kick your ass worse. 

Her size combined with her age - combined with her status as Yusuke’s teacher - is a continuous reminder not to judge power by looks alone. Don’t underestimate your opponent and get overconfident (a major flaw of Yusuke’s). Know that you still have a LOT to learn about the world. That woman you assume is just a rude grandma? She’s going to break your expectations over and over and over again. 

Speaking of size, that’s a major aspect of Koenma’s design as well. When Yusuke learns he’s meeting the head of the underworld he starts picturing a massive, demonic beast who (sensing a theme here) looks the part of a supernatural ruler. Seeing Koenma for the first time - an adorable toddler-like being - is an absolute shock. 

It’s a gag for the audience, but it’s not just a gag. Due to his looks Yusuke is unable to take Koenma seriously, despite knowing the power he holds. 

Which, even more-so than arrogance, is Yusuke’s greatest flaw throughout the series. He doesn’t take school seriously. His death seriously. Ruler of the underworld seriously. His teacher seriously, etc. Yusuke constantly acts like he doesn’t care, throwing basic respect and effort in the face of whatever authority figure is desperately trying to keep him from self-destructing. He’s on the receiving end of multiple speeches throughout the series (mostly from Genkai) that boil down to, “Care about something, dammit. Take this seriously!” and when he does it’s GREAT. It’s a moment of growth we’ve really built to in a hundred different ways, including how he reacts to others’ looks. Koenma’s design feeds directly into the primary flaw Yusuke is working to overcome. How will he go from a delinquent laughing in the face of the most powerful being to someone multiple worlds can put their trust in? Design assists with that. 

When Yusuke does respect Koenma (even if he still insults/teases him because that’s just an ingrained part of Yusuke’s personality) Koenma’s appearance can change. It’s no longer serving its original function, so he evolves into a very good looking young man (with references to Tuxedo Mask to emphasize those good looks) that just... happens to still carry a pacifier. 

A pacifier that is revealed as an incredibly powerful weapon that will help save the world. Again: don’t judge anyone or anything solely on their looks. They’re never precisely what you’d assume they are based on your first glance - with the exception of minor villains whose looks serve only to convey their villainy: 

For everyone else, looks are complex. Two of the most different looking characters (color-wise anyway) are actually siblings, their contrasts reflecting both differing cultures and the emotional distance between them. 

The scariest looking monsters are just paper-pushers. It’s the handsome humans you should watch out for.  

And this is our hero, a man charged with protecting three worlds. 

I could say SO MUCH MORE but this is already disgustingly long so basically YYH (I think) does a great job of: 

Crafting characters that are distinct but not different for the sake of different. They always feel like they belong to their individual worlds and adhere to whatever “normal” is by those standards. 

Tying character looks really closely to the show’s themes and individual growth. Which, frankly, is something I think all good character design should do. 

It’s not nearly as flashy as other anime... but YYH knows what it wants to accomplish and went about it beautifully. Catch me still weeping over this show fifty years from now. 

Peace ✌️

[a-stitch-in-time-and-space]

You ask for prompts and I'm here again to seek new content to read: 3. How often do/can they see each other (due to living on different planets, having stressful jobs, etc) with Gashir (/Garakshir) 🤩🤩

 Eyyyyy. I am just gonna… casually fold into this… a little trans-Bashir as a treat…. because it’s trans day of visibility!!! Also I hc Cardassians as intersex, in the sense of they as a species don’t call themselves intersex, but their genders are far more loosely determined at birth, because there’s not really sexual dimorphism (or rather, there is, but it’s so many different factors that it’s not classified) and then gendering comes later in life depending on what role they’re supposed to play in society ahem – different post to make!

Also Garak has a tail in this, also casually.. also this got longer than intended… oops?

—– Letter Analysis ——

1.

Their lives have a sort of normality that many families in this day and age exist with. Space travel, careers that necessitate being off-planet for long stretches at a time, the struggles of being a representative for entire planets or systems, all of this isn’t out of the ordinary.

Still, it takes them a little while to adjust, if only because they spent so long not getting it together that now that they have, well, they want to savour it. On the flip-side their relationship functions much better than so many who enter into partnerships of some kind without fully considering the difficulties of spending so much time apart and inevitably crumble.

Because of all that time they know, without a doubt, that their lives are entwined for good, regardless of how much of it they spend without one another’s physical company.

They fall into letter-writing naturally. After all, they had been doing the same before, why stop now.  

2.

It has become something of a competition at this point: who can write the longest letter. Thus far, Julian is winning and Elim is still in the process of reading his when they see one another again. He pretends to be blasé about it, but Julian can read him easily these days. He wonders at the time when he couldn’t and can’t really picture it.

While Elim is giving him a back-handed compliment at the way he’s managed to fold three words worth of content into whole paragraphs, Julian realises that he’s never known anyone as well as he knows Elim. And every detail of himself is known in turn. From the scars of his chest surgery that he purposefully kept, to the ridges at the base of Elim’s tail, it feels like everything about them was perfectly made for the other.

It’s strange, how many tiny moments are filled with love, they both learn.

(After Elim sends him a letter of 3000 pages, Julian simply answers: You win).

3.

They consider what it would be like to have a family with the way their lives are run. Elim generally lives on Cardassia unless his diplomatic duties take him elsewhere, while Julian is hopping from emergency to medical find to distress call to conference.

Still, they approach the matter on the premise that it will happen. Their letters during these years follow a trajectory of thought with little variation, as they can’t actually be together for the discussion.

They discuss pregnancy – both of them are capable of bearing a child, but the time needed (nine earth months for humans, even longer for cardassians) makes it a challenging prospect. Moreover Julian and Elim, each for their own reason, have issues with concepts surrounding an uncontrollable force fundamentally changing their bodies.

It doesn’t take them long to agree that adoption was always the only option. Still there’s the matter of their careers being incompatible with children. Neither of them wants to put a child in harm’s way and both of their careers contain elements of danger. I believe, writes Elim drily and with an underlying sadness that Julian wishes he could heal, that this sixth assassination attempt may contain a sign that a child would not be particularly safe in my company.

4.

The way this resolves itself is oddly perfect for what they need and who they are and comes through both of their continued work with mixed-species war-orphans, who more often than not are homeless, ostrasized and suffering from any number of easily treatable diseases. Garak opens a series of institutions in the name of Ziyal and habitually lends a hand in their various gardens where he befriends a number of the kids.

This plan also works to ground a lot of Julian’s focus in the space of mixed-species research, specifically writing papers on the future of the galaxy needing to see species integration for the sake of these kids as an inevitability as cultures mix and to understand the medical and cultural implications thereof.

Kira and Ro get heavily involved on the Bajoran side of things – in general a bunch of adults from DS9 days come together to give kids a better chance than they had.  

Beyond that though, they come to realise that they’re okay on family. With these kids – many of whom they get to know personally over the years – with Molly and Yoshi O'Brien and Rebecca Sisko getting older and the two of them functioning as uncles, there’s more than enough for them to be getting on with on the children front: Elim and I were very happy to see you all again – Don’t worry, I’ll keep Yoshi safe – we’ll be making a stop at Bajor where Nerys is very excited to see him again –

Their circle is actually a sizeable, cross-galaxy household. They come to realise that it doesn’t matter if your family is someone you can’t see often, what matters is they’re all inhabiting the same space.

5.

They don’t argue often. With the lack of time they have together, what would be the point of raising petty squabbles. There are things like the time Julian forgot about a very important dinner that Elim was a guest of honour at, which opened up a box of the kind of loneliness Elim thought he’d overcome, but it wasn’t about anger or arguing, it was about the two of them figuring out that sometimes this not seeing one another was actually damned hard. It was about asking for forgiveness and receiving it even before the asking. It was about making sure that they wouldn’t let things ever be unsaid, because their time together – comparative to their whole lives – was always going to be so short.

The actual worst long-standing consequence is that Elim and Julian are political celebrities, and so whatever tabloid-equivalent exists publishes one thousand pieces on their apparently irreconcilable relationship. Julian finds himself referred to as everything from a “heartthrob who found he needed more,” to “a cheater who habitually has several affairs at once.”

It’s amazing, remarks Elim in his latest letter, how these kinds of spurious articles are written even today, and how they still don’t seem to know the facts. On that note I hope you have a wonderful time with Data, and Parmak sends his love from my lap - it’s making it very hard to write this.

6.

They’re both twenty years older by now, but things aren’t slowing down with their work by the looks of things. Julian’s work centres more and more on the various groups whose medical needs are considered less valid or even non-medical, because of their social status and who often have medical issues of kinds that don’t come up in normative societies – mixed-species, augments, A.I. (for awhile his standing suffers, when he argues that mechanical needs for A.I. ought to be taught in Starfleet Medical), non-bipedal species, Ex-B’s, Jem'Hadar, clones.

Elim keeps his Carrington Award on the wall for everyone to see. Partly to mess with him – To The Prestigious Winner of the CA – many of his letters begin for several years after, but mostly out of pride.

(In return and with as much love, Julian addresses him as Ambassador and Castellan – the joke evolves as they find ever more flowery titles for one another. Julian wins this one: My Dearest, the Ambassador to the United Federation of planets, Castellan of the Cardassian Union, Blusher when Being Whispered Compliments about the Length of Your Tail, Not-So-Secret Reader of Austen and Pratchett, Seducer of Doctors (No Doubt Currently Spluttering in Denial), Possessor of Biteable Ridges (Blushing Again, I Hope) and of My Heart… this opening continues a further four pages. The letter itself reads: I expect to land on Cardassia within the next three days. Surprise.)

7.

At the end of it all, Julian finally comes to Cardassia for good. Along the way it’s become his home more than any planet, station, starship, or system, for the simple fact that he’s been returning to Elim, and Elim is home.

There’s a strangeness to all the time they have. The walks they take, the languid mornings, the discussions of books they’ve read whilst in each other’s company, it’s all far more surreal than the years spent wanting to see one another again and catching whatever moments they could.

They can’t shake the habit of writing one another letters, even as they’re sitting in the same room. They don’t need to be long or well-formed any more, although occasionally silly competitions spring up, just for fun.

The one Julian’s reading right now, as Elim’s tail languidly curls around his waist, simply says: I am glad that you’re finally home – E

–— The End ——

Submissions for drabbles are now closed, thank you for sending me asks!

[ifonlysj]

heyyyy i'm a relatively new elf and i loooove sungmin but i have a question. you said sungmin "made a mistake in the way he treated fans who were supporting and even helping out his wedding". what is that about? i only know that he got hate for marrying which is bullshit but what happened with supportive fans? thank you, love your blog

hey anon! as promised: here is my opinion about how sungmin handled the situation~ and please take it with a grain of salt and form your own judgement.

just wanted to remind everyone reading this that i still think sungmin should come back to super junior too! if there is something you wish to correct/disagree with under the cut, let me know nicely. we don’t have to fight, okay? let’s do this like civilised people :)

it’s known that leeteuk and heechul have acknowledged that fans would rather hear about dating/marriage news from the members themselves rather than through articles and rumours. this of course makes sense, idols who have “asked for their fans’ blessing” have seen a much better response from their fans than those who got “exposed” by dispatch/sasaengs/whatever. sure, this isn’t a blanket generalisation, but you kinda get it right? i wouldn’t want malicious rumours about someone i like getting involved with someone else, not because i am “possessive”, but because i think the relationship between an idol and their fans can be trusted so that you know, we can celebrate together and stuff.

there are also other rumours about the ‘controversy’ surrounding his marriage, but they were mostly cleared through an article on naver. you can find it here. it should be pretty accurate, because sungmin posted a link to it on his instagram as an instagram post. 

here’s something that i don’t know if it’s been cleared ; sungmin allegedly changed his signature by replacing the star he normally uses with ‘Mi’, which is a nickname for saeun (his wife). this part is really a little bit weird. i don’t think he should have done that, considering how the fan who requested for the autograph has a name that doesn’t resemble ‘Mi’ in any way or form. you can find the original post on pann here. look at it this way, you travelled all the way out and did x number of things and basically worked hard so you could meet someone you liked, and the person gave you gift, that was actually a secret message for someone else. that’s just... not right. again, anything regarding sungmin and the controversy has been grossly warped by people to the point where it is difficult to check if anything is right/wrong. correct me if you want. 

something else; sungmin’s apology letter was released ahead of his army discharge. he handwrote it and apologised for hurting fans by getting married before his enlistment. i think he missed the point. fans aren’t stupid. korean fans aren’t stupid. i believe the ones who are possessive and think they own him is a minority. but i think it’s understandable that these fans felt angered by how he handled it. he didn’t apologise for the signature and he didn’t apologise for ’sharing’ his fan gifts with his wife.

this is a difficult post to make and this part is the worst bit of it, because i’m going to share about why i felt uneasy about his marriage. i’m not saying i’m against it. i’m just. i don’t really know, i had really bad feeling about this when the news first came out. disclaimer: i do not pretend to speak for fans or for anyone at this point, this is just my personal opinion and maybe you disagree with it and that’s okay. this is how i felt about it in 2014-5 and it was a long time ago. with age comes wisdom LOL and honestly i don’t feel anything when i think about it now. 

i felt uneasy when the news broke out because of the timing of it. the timing was, quite frankly, quite terrible. there are some issues that made it worse that sungmin himself couldn’t control, but i don’t think it would have hurt to think it through a little more before releasing the news. 

sungmin confirmed he was getting married in between super shows. i don’t know what kind of impression that gives you, but i’ll be frank: it gives me the impression that he’s acting more individualistic and not putting his group activities as a priority in his life.

for international fans, this could seem like a shock to you. of course he should put his personal life first, he’s in love! he’s finally found someone he likes enough to get married, and we should support him because we want him to find happiness. that’s an opinion, and you’re entitled to it. but what we’re looking at is the confucian principles of community and society that are upheld by most of the korean community. this is a culture that mandates military enlistment laws for all males (with very few exceptions). so really, through their perspective, the outrage could be perhaps more understood. it is also important to know that when the news first broke, the general opinion ranged from congratulatory messages (that hoped for a better public opinion of idols getting married/falling in love), to speculations if it was a shotgun marriage and if saeun was pregnant. consider that sungmin had not enlisted in the military at this point. for korean men, entering the military is a rite of passage into “manhood”. it was already bad enough for idols themselves to still enlist, and fans were already dreading his enlistment. to suddenly spring the news of marriage on them? it made the timing of the whole thing even worse. what’s worse is that the fandom was trying to support them, but sungmin antis and even some of sungmin’s sasaeng’s gave false reports about the whole situation (see: rumous about the wedding, etc.). 

something to understand in korean netizen culture is that they literally live in a culture where paparazzi are so normalised and entertainment journalism literally puts out close to fifty new reports, news, and scandals out every day. on top of that, korea is notorious for their efficient, workaholic cultures that spares no time for research. imagine being bombarded with news about sungmin’s ‘misdeeds’ every week and every month. obviously your impression of him worsens. then he goes to enlist in the army, effectively disappearing, not making a statement until he nearly discharges, then going back to promote himself as per usual. you only have ten minutes a day, maximum, to see the news. you don’t have time to check for yourself on the internet what is happening. if you’re a fan, you go on twitter to check with the big fansites what is happening, and then you see that they are all quarrelling between themselves about writing petition letters. every single thing sungmin does gets uploaded as ‘breaking news’, paparazzi zoom in onto the other sujus’ “apologies” and “opinions” regarding their fellow member, and public opinion builds the impression that sungmin just doesn’t give a shit about his group. and remember! he’s literally getting married and having a honeymoon in between concerts, when the rest of the members are practising/rehearsing/working hard on TV to get more acknowledgement. gosh, sungmin really is throwing his group under the bus all for love... 

that’s a thought process i went through. i can hardly emphasise more about how this shit isn’t about me getting pressed and possessive about how he’s my oppa and he shouldn’t get married because i’m going to marry him one day. it’s not! it’s about me loving suju to the point where sungmin seems like he’s just going off on his own without caring about the group image. quite frankly if any of the sujus reveal tomorrow that they are dating someone, my response would be something like: “oh thank God!”, and if next year they say something like “y’all, we’re gonna get married”, then i would be like: “FINALLY!” because the sujus deserve nothing but happiness and i just want them to be happy after all the shit they’ve been through. [of course sungmin deserves happiness too. everyone does.]

i started rambling but... i just want to say that i really wish sungmin eased us more into it. the whole thing was aggravated because of how saeun handled it on TV also. sungmin enlisting right after was a good move, considering the damage already done. it would have given the whole thing to die down a bit, for fans to think things a little bit more through while sungmin basically removed himself from society for a bit. but while he was gone, saeun said some shit about how sungmin is really touchy and good with skinship, how sungmin drank 9 bottles of soju just to get the courage to ask her father for his blessing, and so on. that’s not right sis. why would you keep making headlines about your man when you should just lie low and wait for the hatred to pass... she then went on to like really controversial pictures, like the one where someone is slapping someone else. the slapper is labelled “international ELFs” while the one being slapped is labelled”K-ELFs”... that shit just ain’t cool bruv... obviously this started another internal fanwar, and i’m pretty sure a lot of ELFs have bad impressions of her. idk i feel like the sudden attention went to her head or something... why would you talk about alcohol... gosh...

anyway i don’t hate her or anything and i’m happy that she brings our boi happiness but i just don’t have a good impression of her... maybe she’s a really nice person IRL but you know, she’s a celebrity and we’ll never meet so i won’t pass judgement on her.

that’s... kinda it i guess? congrats if you made it all the way to the end. i just wanna rehash the point about sungmin returning to super junior. i think he should. he’s been away for long enough and i think that’s enough ‘punishment’, but i do think it would make it easier for the public to try and accept him again if the both of them just admit to what they did wrong in the past and apologise and then just move on. that shit is old as heck, i think. there’s what i think happened. lmk if i made a mistake or missed something, i wrote like 60% of this post thinking back to that time period and considering how, uh, i don’t live in korea, there might have been something i missed. the other 40% is stuff i searched online to double check, but you know. take everything that isn’t an article with a bucket of salt. lord knows how messed up everything is after those sungmin antis started spreading rumours and stuff. 

if you need a clarification about something said above, you can send me a (nice) ask and i’ll answer!

one last thing, i’m not saying what the sungmin antis did to sungmin (with regards to trying to kick him out of suju, threatening his wife, etc.) is justified by whatever i said above. i’m just saying it makes it a little bit more understandable. but it doesn’t make them entitled to such actions and i 100% believe that their actions are unjustified.

[theadorablespderman]

Sailing Close to the Wind

This is dedicated to the anon who requested a fic off of the prompt list I posted a while ago. The prompt was #18 for the angst list: “Leave! Me! Alone!” thank you all for being amazing and thanks to the anon for requesting this fic! it was so much fun to write. I hope you guys like it!

(not beta read so any mistakes are mine) 

***************************************************

Rating: M (due to implied sexual content)

Peter/Michelle

Summery:

Leave 

          Please

Me

          Don’t

Alone

          Go

***************************************************

"Pieces of shit! Leave! Me! Alone!" The roar cut up her throat, taking the air from her lungs. Michelle wrenched off the pocket-watch hanging by a rusted nail from her apartment door. She pitched it at the ground before promptly stomping on the watch face. The crunch of metal and glass under the pressure of her boot satisfied her. Observing the crushed remains of the clock, Michelle growled. This was the third timepiece she found nailed to her apartment door this month. And, her desk at work was teeming with unfulfilled, threatening notes.

She kicked the broken pieces of the watch with vigor. They skidded into a dark corner of the hallway. "Jesus! These assholes are such cowards. All the notes—the creepy phone calls...Jesus, I swear I'd be frightened if they actually followed through with any of their goddamn threats." She tilted her head back, filling the space of the hallway with her voice. Maybe the flickering fluorescent lights were bugged. Maybe they were listening to everything she said. Or, maybe she was just paranoid.

With anger bleaching her flesh, the noxious words were unstoppable.  "You hear that you pieces of shit? Either leave me the hell alone or make good on your promises and— "

A sweaty palm clapped over her mouth, cutting her off. Instinctively, Michelle licked it, tasting salt and the tang of lemon. Peter dropped his hand, grimacing at Michelle's thick saliva. "Are you five years old?" He swiped his hand down his khaki pants, his face screwed up in disgust.

"What's your deal, loser?" The anger leached from Michelle, releasing as carbon dioxide from her lips. She gave Peter a sideways glance while she jammed her key into her door. Maybe he would forget her momentary breakdown if she pretended it didn't happen. If she busied herself with her lock, he might not see how frazzled she felt.

The lock always stuck, so she pushed her shoulder into the door. The watermarked boards groaned under the pressure. In one snap of the wrist, the lock turned over and the door swung open. Another annoying thing about her door. The knob didn't work. She had to keep the door locked to keep it closed. Unjamming the lock always meant she pitched two unsteady steps into her apartment when she walked in.

Stumbling into her minuscule living space, she tossed her keys onto her side table. When she glanced back at Peter, he looked as worn as she did. She wasn't sure how she didn't notice it during dinner. Until she realized the clock set him on edge. The ticking meant to signify the last seconds of her life. He never was present when she received threats. He only ever heard about them after the fact. Now his gaze carried unbridled worry as he scanned the pockmarked ceiling and the peeling wallpaper. Searching.

He was looking for other signs. More bad omens.

With a sigh, she camouflaged herself with indifference and took the few remaining steps to Peter. Michelle swung a hand in front of his face, snapping twice before gaining his attention. "I'll repeat my question. What’s your deal, oh weird one?" She walked back to the door. Slamming it shut, she wedged her shoulder into it, flipping the deadbolt over.

She watched Peter's hands sneak into his pockets, bunching his dress shirt around his wrists. Michelle found the action incredibly attractive for no reason at all. She was a sucker for bare forearms.

Swaying on his feet, Peter finally answered. "You can't say stuff like that." His distracted attention landed on her. Nervous energy rolled off him, cutting through her with edged teeth. The tension left a metallic taste on her tongue.

A chill rushed over her skin. She took a step closer to him. Finding his bicep under her hands. The warmth soothed the fraying edges between them. "Is this about that clock?"

It was a stupid question. Of course it was about the clock.

His face remained impassive, only holding a fraction of terror behind brown eyes. Michelle continued, "Don't worry about it. It's just empty threats." Snaking her arms around his stomach, she wanted to believe her own words. If she told herself they were empty threats, she had no reason to fear the consequences of her decisions.

Peter hissed, short and breathy. It resonated more so in his chest than from his mouth. If she wasn't so close, she wouldn't have heard it. But with his eyes closed, his lips sucked into a straight line, it was obvious her words didn't put him at ease. "But I am worried about it. About you." He said, Eyelashes fluttering. His irises finally appeared behind his lids. The tension in his face melted into that of unmasked anxiety. "They're watching and waiting. And I'm—I'm really worried." He whispered it from the same place in his chest that his heart resided.

Michelle tilted closer, her hands slipping up his arms, laying flat along his stiff shoulder. Pressing her fingers into the hardened muscles, she felt the strain drip away. Sliding down his back, ice thawing, slipping from a melting glacier.

Their foreheads met and the chill of Peter's skin surprised her. He was shaking. The tremble of his hands distinct as they engulfed her waist. "Hey," She breathed the words, finding anything above a whisper too loud in the intimate space. "I'll be fine."

No.

His body translated the response without the need for words. No. She wouldn't be okay.

"Why?" She placed the word in the kiss she pressed against Peter's cheek.

His arms wound tight around her, dragging her against his body. "They know about the article." Warmth from his words bathed her neck. She tilted it enough for Peter to plant a kiss to her jugular. "I can't find them, but I've heard whispers. The Maggia and everyone else involved—they’ll do anything to keep this quiet. At first, they thought they could scare you, but now—" His voice cracked. “They’re warning you that they want you dead. And I-I can't let that happen. You can't—" A drop of something cool, singular, fell where Peter kissed. One tear. His tear. "You can't let that happen. I know you won't stop, and I don't want you to. But I need you safe too..." His words dropped off into more grazes against her skin.

Michelle turned her head, allowing Peter's lips to caress the line of her jaw. Her fingers carded into his hair. Tears blurred against her skin, transferring from Peter's cheek to hers. His chest heaved against her own, sobbing with nothing but breaths from his lips. "What should I do?" She asked the question, even though she knew there were plenty of things she should do. She should leave her apartment. Go somewhere safe, discrete, given that the city’s deadliest mob had a bounty on her head. But at the moment, Michelle didn't want to leave. She didn’t want to think. Not in this moment with Peter's breath, intimate and private, mingling with her own. Leaving was impossible when his hands left whispers on her skin.

As Peter peppered more kisses across her cheeks he replied, "Leave here,” A peck on her jaw. “Go somewhere safe,” A sigh in her ear. “Don't die," He trailed to her lips, kissing each corner before slanting his mouth over hers. "Please."

She opened her mouth to him, her knees buckling against the edge of her bed.

Kissing Peter was the same as wading through a lake. He enveloped her, water molding to her skin. It was a slow kiss, long and lazy. Moving against each other with sweeping motions of their lips. Peter’s tongue caressed her lips. She opened her mouth willingly. Letting everything but him slip away until she was bare.

When Peter’s lips found a pathway past her neck, between the valley of her breasts, Michelle knew he marked her skin with salt. Her own eyes stung with tears. They slid past her temples, into her hair.

She was trapped in a dangerous game. Fear wracked her with heavy blows every day. She investigated everything from drug rings and human trafficking to political scandals and corporate cover-ups. Those articles created a plethora of enemies over the years. Michelle knew there were specific people who might just crack a smile if she died tomorrow. Normally, it was nothing more than an occasional thought. A thought that held no power or fear over her. But this wasn't a small drug lord, or arms dealer. Her article would expose the rich and powerful of New York City.

People had been killed for exposing less.

Exposing child sex trafficking, provided by the Maggia gang and patronized by a number of New York's shining elitists, was more than dangerous. It was the type of story that loaded the gun, cocked it, then waited to see who would fire first. With nothing but a few additional investigative loose ends, the story would be ready in less than a week. Michelle could feel the trigger slowly pulling back, milliseconds from discharging.  

Once the article published the bounty on her head would grow. The ticking clocks outside her door would increase. A faceless gunman could introduce her to death tomorrow. If that was because she publicized the identities of the buyers and sellers of child sex trafficking, she would write that story again.

That didn't mean she wasn't scared out of her mind.

Michelle fell back into the present as Peter traveled lower, leaving burns the shape of his lips on her naked skin. She couldn't remember exactly when she stripped her clothing, but she prayed Peter continued.

He was water, touching every surface. Her labored breathing stemmed from him. Peter deprived her of all oxygen before supplying it again. She felt the tremble of his shoulders between her thighs. The desperate strokes his mouth made. The way his hands clasped her hips. She knew his anxieties echoed her own.

Then melodies were playing. Peter was her reality as she crested. He was everything when she fell apart in a bundle of exposed nerves in his hands.

Peter trailed back up her body, finding her mouth once more. Skin touched skin with cleansing fire. Michelle was reborn with the weight of him pressing into her. As he kissed her—his cheeks now dry and his voice hoarse—he whispered everything and nothing into her skin.

They created weather together. Every touch of Peter's desperate fingers crackled with lightning. The heat of open-mouthed kisses birthed wildfires. Humidity hung against their slick bodies. Wind rushed from the canyons of their lips, leaving them without atmosphere to breathe. When Peter dove into her, the northern lights flashed in Michelle's eyes. They created oceans and mountains with their rhythm. Two tectonic plates crashing into the other with beautiful power. Sound and space collided into the melody of I love you.

After the crescendo where heaven and earth collided, she collapsed into a series of earthquakes. Him into a cacophony of volcanic eruptions. Tears and sweat mingled. Under the covers, Peter tucked his nose into the curve of Michelle's neck. He was still shaking, his hold on her as firm as it had been when they started. She swallowed hard, felt a similar tremor in her chest, and spoke, "I have to publish the article."

Peter nodded. His lashes fluttered against her skin. "I know."

Fatigue washed over her. Her fingers halted combing through Peter's hair. She rested her hand at the nape of his neck, her vision growing watery. Peter's thumb mopped up the stray tear rolling over her cheek, down her neck. "I don't want to do this without you," His eyes shot to her own, steady and strong. She looked away, realizing the gravity of her choices. Maybe she could've had a different life if she wasn't so stubborn. If she didn't need to uncover and investigate everything. Or, bring attention to the political and social injustices plaguing the planet. If only she didn't feel that unshakable need. But she did. Because if she didn't, she didn't trust anyone else to do it. Michelle trailed her eyes back to Peter's. "I know I'm a lot. I know it's a lot to handle. Most people at twenty-three don’t have these problems," But, most people weren’t investigative journalists in a relationship with Spider-Man. She placed an idle kiss against Peter's lips. “But I don't want you to leave me alone."

"I wouldn’t leave you, but I don’t want you to leave me alone, either." Peter returned the kiss, his fingers curling around her neck. He smelled sweet, pleasant like the rain. She filled her lungs with the smell of him. "You’re so strong. I know you can protect yourself, but I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe. To keep you alive. But you have to stay alive."

Michelle's eyes drooped of their own accord, but before sleep claimed her, she whispered, "I'll do my best."

She smiled into Peter’s chest as she drifted off. Safe for the moment.

[cheekytorah]

Remus Lupin: On The Inside

Part 1

[Ive never written a story like this before, it’ll be long and eventually transferred to Ao3 but for now I’ll post pieces here. I hope you like it, and for the most part it’ll seem like someone’s journal entries, because it’s supposed to..]

By CheekyTorah

Beta’d by the lovely @OllieMaye

It wasn't like I wasn't happy, I only needed the simple things, you know? A warm jumper, a decent book, food, a fag. Of course, I wasn't overjoyed 99% of the time, no one has time to be that happy...or so I figured. I was lucky to be alive. Lucky, even, to have the chance to turn eleven, to attend that fancy school, to be around other people. Yeah, yeah. I sound so dramatic, I'm sure, but if you were the teachers, the students or especially their parents, I know you'd feel the same way.

I'm not some romantic hero—I'm not the good guy here, so if that's the story you are looking for you may as well find another because I'm basically my own worst nightmare. Actually, I’m most people's worst nightmare. It’s still the pits, no matter how long I've known it, but I deal. It was really easy, pretending I was just fine, normal, happy to be alone. I still am, you know, happy to be alone. I just have a time limit, I guess you could say. I've been...conditioned to having certain amounts of human contact as of late. It's dangerous. I know it's dangerous, but it's addicting all the same. I had no clue how much I craved this, till them.

Merlin, it's such a wonderful feeling to be needed, wanted, loved even. Not like my mother didn't love me. She did, it just wasn't the same. She had to love me; it would be a biological anomaly for your own mother not to love you, wouldn't it? My father, though, he was the one who resented me, hated who I was, disgusted not by the human but by the monster. I didn't blame him; I was too.

When I first started at Hogwarts, I tried to keep to myself, only answering questions when called on specifically. I didn't want to stand out, didn't want to draw attention to myself. Then I saw that horrible snake bullying the quiet girl. Calling her horrific things, pushing her around, making her cry. I cursed myself for not standing up for her when I had the chance, but it was alright—I had a plan.

Magic wasn't new to me, I had a half-blood father, and I was around magic most of my life. Mother might have been muggle, but she was really accepting of magic. They loved each other quite a lot, no matter the muttered insults, or lack of warmth I got from him I never told her about. I just couldn't take her happiness like that. She could never fully understand what a monster I really was anyways. She was so good, so loving and warm that I could never break her heart.

I got away from myself. So, the plan. It really was an amazing plan, if I do say so myself. I don't remember where I even learnt that charm, it must have been from all the books I read because no decent person would have taught me that. Then again, most people wouldn't use the spell that way, I just had a certain...creativity when it came to the use of common spells.

I sat across the hall from their common room entrance in the early hours of the morning. I had to make sure no teacher or head of house got pranked. It wasn't meant for them; it was meant for the little jerks who would dare to call Mary such horrible things. So I sat, and I waited. About an hour later I heard the voices and that cackling laugh, so I cast the charm into the stones on the floor and hid behind a suit of armour to watch.

Four students barrelled out of the Slytherin common room. They stepped into the hall, and I mean into: they slipped down as if in quicksand and sunk down to their armpits. I smirked; I felt the amusement and satisfaction spread across my face. Not the type to announce my involvement, I turned to dash away unnoticed but of course their Head of House was suddenly behind me and I was dragged to the headmaster's office. If you had asked me before if I noticed the boy standing down the hall watching the whole scene, I would have said no, but looking back, I think I did see him from the corner of my eye, a mischievous look behind his glasses, a big grin across his face and unruly chestnut hair.

[enchantedbride]

I'm gonna do what I did to Tay. Gimme all of the nsfw asks with Claude!!

@blackquills-wife*wiggles eyebrows* ALL OF THEM? ALL OF THEM! (Since I have two self-inserts, I’m gonna use Claunna as my ship for answering these asks since that ship is the most developed at this point, and Joanna is well… basically me but a manakete XD).

Reminder that my not safe for work tag is #joey’s citrus garden. Do not interact with posts with this tag unless you’re 18 years of age or older, or you will receive an automatic block. 

1. Is your f/o loud or quiet during sex?

Claude tends to be on the quieter side, but mostly because he’s very good at staying in control of himself in the beginning. But the more he comes apart, the harder it is to stay quiet. That being said, he’s never super loud, even at his most vocal. Although there are other ways for Joanna to tell she’s doing a good job, for example, if she gets him to start devolving into pure profane utterances or his sentences are more broken and scattered, that’s definitely a good sign. >:3c

Joanna on the other hand tends to be pretty good at staying quiet herself, and one of Claude’s favorite things to do is find out how he can draw out more sound from her, what will render unable to help herself. 

2. What is your favourite sex position with your f/o?

…Do I have to pick just one?  It probably flusters her to think about it, but Joanna really enjoys being bent over and taken from behind. She’s also quite partial to being face to face while she rides him. But really though, she’s down for almost anything and both of them do like to experiment. 

3. Do you fantasize about your f/o in a sexual way often?

Joanna didn’t at first, but that’s not unusual for her as someone whose demisexual and just… doesn’t have a sexual interest in anyone right off the bat if/when sexual interest occurs at all. But more recently… she’s been thinking about Claude in that sort of context a lot.

4. Does your f/o prefer to be a dominant or submissive?

I think Claude has about an equal preference and gets enjoyment out of the experience whether he’s the more dominant or submissive partner. Joanna does have a strong tendency towards being a sub so he does tend to be the dominant partner more often than not because of it, but he does try to encourage her to take the reigns on occasion, and enjoys every minute of it when she does. 

5. Does your f/o prefer giving or receiving oral?

 Claude slightly prefers giving because he enjoys turning his partner (in this case, Joanna) into a mess but make no mistake, he’s totally down for receiving oral too. Wheras Joanna is equally interested in both giving and receiving. 

6. What kink does one of you have but the other doesn’t?

Claude is probably more into bondage than Joanna is, so if there’s any tying up to be had, it’s generally him that’s tied up. Likewise, Joanna is more into the idea of being blindfolded while Claude’s not too keen on it, at least for himself, though he’s down for it if the other partner is the one blindfolded.

7. What kinks do both of you have?

Both Claude and Joanna like to experiment and explore each other’s bodies, and both of them definitely enjoy body worship. Both of them also really enjoy having sex while not undressing completely (although there’s a lot of fun to be had in undressing and redressing each other too), and in the case of a quickie there’s a certain thrill to cleaning up quickly and resuming their daily schedule as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened and laughing about it later when together before bed at night. Claude likes to tease in bed just as much as he likes to tease in general, if not more, and despite the fact teasing is a bit of a hit or miss subject for Joanna in general social situations, she loves being teased in bed. 

8. Does your f/o like it rough and fast or soft and slow?

I tend to think Claude would actually prefer more soft and slow so he can take his time with Joanna and prolong their enjoyment, but things can get rougher and faster from time to time. When their schedules only allow for a quickie, those tend to be on the rougher side. 

9. If you could live out one kink you and your f/o both share, what would it be?

Oh boy… another one where it’s difficult to choose just one.I guess what comes to mind is more of a scenario.  I like the idea of the two of them being in perhaps a private office that Claude uses. Claude locks the door so they won’t be intruded upon, and the two of them start getting frisky in said office. After Claude has sufficiently gotten Joanna worked up and he’s removed a few articles of his own clothing, he bends her over his desk and lifts up her skirt, pulling down her undergarments and teasing her about how wet she already is for him. She teases him back, but he’s a bit better at goading her into pleading for him. Of course, he happily obliges her when he’s satisfied that she’s ‘demonstrated enough’ how badly she wants him. He tells her to be as quiet as she can, but warns her he won’t make it easy for her, and of course, he doesn’t. 

10. Has your f/o caught you masturbating or vice versa?

Yes, it’s probably happened on occasion. Although the two of them sometimes like to make a game out of purposely watching the other and seeing how long it takes before the other one can’t stand it anymore and pleads to let them touch the other.  I have a bit of a mild voyeurism kink so… 

11. How do you two feel about shower sex?

*sweats* Uh… Joanna really likes it. Like, a lot. Claude probably isn’t as into it as she is, but he’s definitely down for it. For her it’s a sensory thing because she likes the feeling of being soaked from head to toe and running her hands all over Claude when he’s the same way. (Although she also really enjoys showering/bathing together as a form of non-sexual intimacy too, as a way of gentle touching and caring for the other person.)

12. Is there anything about your f/o that stands out sexually?

I’m not entirely sure how to interpret this question. Is this about kinks? Size? Stamina? 

I do like to headcanon that Claude has good stamina and can recover pretty quickly to go for another round if he and Joanna are up for it. I don’t have any particular headcanons about his dick other than the fact he and Joanna fit very well together in a more… physical sense.  *winkwink* 

13. Do you think your f/o would roleplay with costumes or would that be too silly?

Neither of them really do that sort of thing much, although they’ve tried a couple of things at least once. They do like to tease each other and ‘play fight’ on occasion (although Claude and Joanna always make sure the other person knows it’s pretend and not a real fight, especially since Joanna’s autistic traits mean she’s more likely to read a situation literally without some help). Once Claude learns about Joanna’s past as a major religious figure in her homeland, he does at least once make a joke about how even though he’s not particularly religious, there is a goddess (or rather a goddess’s envoy) he’s quite happy to get on his knees for.

14. Does your f/o cuddle after sex or do they prefer to do other things?

Claude is definitely a cuddler and he’s a bit disappointed when he doesn’t get to cuddle afterwards. Although tbh Joanna’s very much the same way so it works out.

15. Is your f/o into pain during sex? if yes do they give or receive it?

I don’t think either of them are particularly into it especially, although Joanna does like to bite and nibble, especially on his ears and neck. He does a little bit of it himself to her, especially giving her pointed ears a little playful tug with his teeth every now and again.

16. Who finishes first during sex?

Joanna. You kind of need to be watchful with her because she’s got some major tactile sensitivity. There are some spots where if you really abuse them she miiiight come a little too quickly. Unless that’s what Claude’s aiming for, which is the case in some circumstances. 

17. If you have more than one f/o, do you have sex with them individually or at the same time?

Claude isn’t currently involved in any polyships of mine (although Manakete!Joanna is in one version of her Awakening verse), but if he were Joanna would probably do both (have sex with her partners individually as well as at the same time) unless for some reason or more of her other partners wasn’t cool with that. 

18. Did you two have sex on the first date?

No. But it took a while for both of them to come to the point of falling love with one another romantically (I don’t headcanon him as demi, but because he is slow to trust normally it still takes time for certain attractions to form and have staying power), and by the time they confessed Joanna’s sexual attraction to him was already beginning to bloom. So it wasn’t terribly long before they did start sleeping together.

19. Are there any specific things your f/o needs in order to enjoy sex? e.g. having the lights on or off, being on the recieving end of the pleasure etc.

I headcanon that for Claude, sexual and romantic attraction are difficult if not impossible to separate. And he needs to really trust a person before romantic attraction can form because of his past. So, indirectly, he really needs to trust someone in order to have/enjoy sex with them. Luckily with Joanna that’s not an issue as he trusts her completely (and of course the two are madly in love and hopeless romantic dorks about it). But other than that I don’t really see him as needing anything in particular.

For Joanna, she can’t really get into it if she thinks there’s a good chance they’re going to be caught/walked in on. As long as she’s certain they have some privacy or at least have a good chance of not being intruded upon, she’s good. (So semi-public sex or stuff that’s in an unusual location isn’t off the table, she just needs reassurance that they’ll generally be safe to do it there.)

20. What kinds of things does your f/o say during sex subconsciously? Is it just swearing or do they blurt out dirty talk?

He swears a little, although he doesn’t really devolve into just swearing until he’s close to coming undone. He tends more towards dirty talk for certain, and he’s learned the right kind can really have quite the enhancing effect with Joanna. There are some words he avoids though since certain words make her upset due to trauma reasons (degrading names for example, or any degradation really is absolutely off the table. he’s not really into that sort of thing anyway but he was thankful Joanna told him ahead of time anyway.). 

[awed-frog]

I read on a confession blog that there's been foreshadowing this season for both/or Cas and Crowley dying and I was surprised but I'm really bad at media reading so I wanted to ask you since you are very clever. Have you seen foreshadowing and could you point me to specific examples? Thank you!

Hi and thank you for saying that! I’m not sure I’m all that clever, but I’ll certainly do my best to answer your question.

So, someone asked me last week about Crowley dying - I guess Mark said something I missed - and you can find my answer here. All I can add is that, narratively speaking, Crowley is still an antagonist (sort of), and since this is not a Haneke movie, the arc for antagonists generally ends in three ways: a bad death, a good death or redemption. What I mean by that is that a villain can be brought down as his schemes are foiled by the hero (sort of what happened to Ruby, for instance, and also Zachariah and Raphael), or they can have a change of heart and sacrifice themselves for the hero (Meg, Gabriel), or they can somehow earn a complete redemption and a happy ending (as was the case, briefly, for characters such as Benny and Cain). 

The way things are going, Crowley is being paralleled with Cas in that he too will soon(ish) have a choice to make: his destiny, or something else. I mean - just as Cas was programmed to be a loyal soldier of Heaven and help out with the Apocalpyse and still feels that pull to stand by his brothers, Crowley is brought low and pushed into ‘sin’ by his demonic nature. In the past, it was always obvious that whatever he did, his motivations were largely selfish. Sometimes I wonder if this changed after that ‘summer of love’ with demon!Dean - I think that was the moment Crowley truly realized that there was no way to trick his way into this one: if he wanted Dean’s affection and friendship, he had to earn it the old-fashioned way - the human way. He’d tried binding Dean to him before that - he’d blackmailed him and forced him to do his bidding in one way or another - and I’m sure Crowley always low-key thought, because how could he not, that what was preventing Dean from being fully his was that stupid heart of his - so big, and always, always bloody bleeding. So when Dean turned - that must have been a dream come true. Only, well, we know how it ended, and since then Crowley’s being trying both to be like Dean (exhibit a, a sudden interest in his long lost family: the old Crowley would have killed Rowena by now) and truly act for Dean, even against his own interests, because this is what you do for your friends: you love them and support them, no matter the cost. In this sense, Crowley saving Cas’ life was perhaps the most significant bout of character development we’ve seen on this show. This is why I’m not sure Crowley can truly take a step back now - we know he hates ruling Hell, after all, and I think we’ve never met a demon he actually likes, so his only logical way is forward - towards humanity (and ‘humanity’). As to whether this will mean his death - for the reasons listed above, I think we can rule out the ‘bad death’ by now, but I’m not sure they’re planning for Crowley to survive the show. He is clever, perhaps the cleverest of them all, but he also overestimates himself, and he’s way too emotional for his own good, so all these things are dangerous. Also - does he have someone who’d take a bullet for him if the time came? Unfortunately, I don’t think so. Maybe him saving Cas is foreshadowing Dean (finally) feeling some obligation towards Crowley and coming to his help later in the season (I don’t think he would have bothered otherwise, to be honest), but I’m not holding my breath. No, given the general landscape of this stupid show, I’m going to expect a ‘good death’ for Crowley - but I’d love, love love to be proven wrong.

(As to when that would happen: I’m hoping, as late as possible, and it would make sense, because Crowley is a great character to keep around - we don’t know much about him, so you can make him do and know unpredictable stuff and have him act like a daemon ex machina whenever needed. Plus, Mark’s great and gets along with everybody, so fingers crossed.)

As for Cas, things are a bit different.

Cas is no longer an antagonist, but he’s not a protagonist either. He’s a helper, but his personality and character’s journey are deeply interwoven with Dean’s, which complicates predicting what he’ll do next. Traditionally, the role of the helper is -

- to help the hero. They don’t have much of a scope beyond that, and, as for their fate, they can either bugger off into the sunset once the crown has been recovered and the prince has married the princess, or they can give their life for the cause (or, if not their life, suffer a heavy loss of some sort so the protagonist can go on with his quest: think Ron Weasley being beaten bloody by a six-foot chess queen, or Elliot Waugh renouncing his homosexuality so Quentin Coldwater can - hopefully - save the day). Most of the time helpers sacrifice themselves willingly, but this is more what you’d call ‘guidelines’ than an actual rule. To me, the most horrifying exception will always be Medea chopping her brother to pieces so she and Jason can escape with the Golden Fleece.

Now, as I said things go a lot deeper with Cas, because he’s not only Dean’s helper, but also Dean’s princess. His fate ultimately depends a) on which one of these two roles will prevail and b) on what kind of show Supernatural even is. 

If it turns out this was a tragedy all along, then Cas is fucked. It doesn’t even matter if he’s a helper or a princess - he’ll die in either case, because this is the endgame: for Dean and Sam to lose everything, and/or to die themselves.

If Supernatural is a quest thing, then the situation is a bit more hopeful. If TPTB get their heads out of their arses, Dean and Cas can get married in a darling little chapel and eat wedding pie until they burst, and if TPTB decide to no homo the entire story and pretend nothing ever happened, Cas will probably get a satisfying ending of his own, because quests generally end well for (mostly) everyone involved.

Finally, if Supernatural is actually the longest and most painful coming-of-age drama your side of the Atlantic (the one on my own side being The Odyssey, in a sense), then - I don’t know. Personally, I think Cas is someone who’s made Dean more mature, and more in touch with his feelings, and yet he’s not a father figure, so he can stay (and again, snog Dean into the next century or become a gardener or something), but it can be argued that the ways Cas is helping Dean to grow are, after all, a surrogate for parenthood (for instance, we have Cas getting Dean to ‘pray’ and have faith and believe in himself, like his parents should have done if Dean had had a normal, healthy childhood), which means his role will ultimately disappear when Dean is ‘old enough’ to make it on his own. Think fairy godmother, for instance. This view is supported, among other things, by the fact that the role Sully played for Sam was heavily paralleled to the present day relationship between Dean and Cas.

(However, if this is what they wanted to do, they had the perfect occasion at the end of S8 with that ‘E.T. goes home’ comment. The fact they didn’t seize what was a golden opportunity to make Cas disappear from Dean’s life in that kind ‘you don’t need me anymore, you’re all grown up now’ way leads me to think this is not where they’re going at all.)

As to when this will happen - again, Cas is a flexible character, he’s got a sizable fanbase and Misha gets along with everybody. The only problem they have with him are these cyclical accusations of queerbaiting they bring down upon themselves - and the fact that, judging from his emotional post-election day speech, Misha will want to do something else at some point. As I said, though - his arc is so strongly tied to Dean’s that I see a high likelyhood of Cas sticking around till the very end. Whether we’ll be happy about this, well - we know how things go with this show.