#but he's become so much of a muscle memory now just like sonic

[silvermun]

i've had to draw shadow at least 12 times today his impact truly holds no bounds

[solalunar-eclipse]

Ball & Chain of My Own Making

Written as part of the Sonic the Hedgehog Big Bang 2024, hosted by @sthbigbang!

Summary: Set in the Sonic the Comic (Fleetway Publications) universe. Now that Robotnik's grasp on the planet has finally been removed, the world is beginning to recover. During this process, Sonic goes to meet up with his old friend, Porker Lewis, on the Floating Island. Unfortunately, they're long overdue for a conversation…and it's going to happen whether he wants it to or not.

Wonderful art (may contain spoilers!) by:

@eosomit (GORGEOUS ART BY EOSOMIT HERE) @pikafleetsyolo (FANTASTIC ART BY PIKAFLEETS HERE)

AO3 Link

Wooden scaffolding arched towards the bright blue sky, free of smog for the first time in years. The foundations of future homes spread out across the land of the Emerald Hill Zone, built atop the rubble and ashes of the original village, proving that soon, the people who once lived here would be back and better than ever before.

A sudden gust of wind rattled the scaffolds, making them shake but not crumble under its force—because after all, this was no ordinary wind. This was the controlled tailwind created by the high-octane racing of one Sonic the Hedgehog, Hero of Mobius, reaching speeds even faster than his namesake.

He skidded to a stop in the midst of the construction, admiring the view around him. It was good to finally see the world rebuilding now that Robotnik had fallen…this had been just a dream for far too long, so to have it become tangible reality, something he could reach out and touch, was downright awesome.

After a few moments, he spotted one of his closest friends, Miles “Tails” Prower—to him just Tails—helping to push a high-up beam into a slightly better position with the assistance of his namesake tails, which spun like the blades of a helicopter.

“Hey, pal, you got anything ya need taking care of ‘round here?” Sonic yelled up to him. “Because you know if you do, it’ll be done before you’re finished saying so!” he finished, winking up at the fox.

Tails flew down from his place atop the framework, landing neatly in front of Sonic. “I’m afraid that was actually the last piece of work I had on my list for now! I think I’m going to go help out Johnny with his staff—he says it’s been on the blink lately, and I thought it surely couldn’t be much harder than that time I helped you repair your plane!” He beckoned happily for Sonic to walk alongside him as the two headed back to their current base of operations, and the hedgehog did so without protest.

“Hmh.” Sonic replied eloquently, folding his arms and frowning slightly. “Amy and Tekno are still out too, yeah?”

“They are…” Tails looked up at his friend for a moment, before his eyes widened with an idea. “Hey, there has to be a couple of malfunctioning badniks left to take out somewhere, right?”

Sonic sighed. “Not for a hundred miles—and believe me, I’ve looked.”

The fox’s twin tails flicked nervously. “I mean, the only work we have going on right now is this whole relocation project…the thing is, I don’t think any other baddies are quite ready to crawl out of the shadows so soon after Robotnik vanished.” he explained.

Sonic abruptly snapped his fingers. “Hey, there’s an idea! I’m gonna take the Tornado up to the Floating Island, see how that end of the relocation’s shaking out up there! Seeya, gotta scram!”

And with that, he was gone, Tails’s call of “bye!” (accompanied by an understanding smile he didn’t see) just barely reaching him.

Within moments, Sonic was already in the cockpit of his trusty biplane, flipping switches with the muscle memory of someone who had piloted it a hundred times before. His eyes roamed over the controls, then shifted to the shining red paint that adorned it—

…oh no…what have I done?

The Hero of Mobius abruptly froze, his fingers trembling almost imperceptibly as he remembered an earlier version of this very plane, crumbling and burning before his eyes—the fire had burned all around him, smoke choking the air, but this time not from one of Robotnik’s factories, instead it—

Sonic shook his head, gritting his teeth and forcing his quills to relax. “Everything worked out just fine,” he muttered. “He’s gone now. Amy and Tekno said so.”

With a few sharp movements, the plane’s engine was running smoothly, and Sonic taxied it down the runway and took off with ease. He only needed a moment to remember the controls, and then his memory of flying between islands on his adventures took over at last. 

As he climbed in altitude, he banked the plane around so it was pointing straight towards the Floating Island. While Tails had added a map to the Tornado, making it easier than ever to navigate, Sonic didn’t need any of that. He might not have…one particular effect from the Chaos Emeralds any longer, but that didn’t mean their energy would ever stop being intertwined with his being in a way he neither could nor cared to explain. 

He glanced briefly over the side of the biplane, enjoying the sight of Emerald Hill’s in-progress town below, now resembling a child’s plaything more than the towering structures he’d seen Tails working on earlier. 

As Sonic flew further, he passed over rivers that were running cleaner than before (though their banks still bore remnants of sludge) and the half-destroyed ruins of several of Robotnik’s factories. He smirked with a grim sort of satisfaction as he spotted a particularly torn-up building, stamped with that grinning logo all mangled and broken, unable to churn out even one more ounce of material to support the now-toppled Empire.

Thankfully for his notoriously short patience, it didn’t take Sonic long at all to reach the Floating Island. Avoiding the populated Mushroom Hill Zone for the time being, he instead circled the plane around over a large grassy clearing just outside the Hidden Palace, coming in for an (in his opinion) impressively smooth landing.

Sonic hopped out of the biplane after cutting its motor, grinning broadly. Any second now…

“SONIC!” a voice bellowed from within, accompanied by the sound of heavy footfalls. “What on Mobius are you doing here?”

Knuckles the Echidna stepped out of the shadows of the Hidden Palace, his arms folded over his chest and his ever-present glower meeting Sonic’s expectations perfectly. “You’d better not have shown up just to cause trouble. The Emerald Hill folk are in the middle of packing up their entire lives, and I am already at my limit with all the chaos around here.”

Sonic swiped under his nose, his smirk growing wider. “You’ve gotta be having some real trouble guarding all those Chaos Emeralds then, huh? I can always take care of them if you’re not up to it!”

Knuckles’s jaw tightened. “Sonic, I swear—“

“Relax, knucklehead!” he interrupted, cutting Knuckles off before he could get truly enraged. (Unfortunately, the continued presence of his smug smile may not have particularly helped, but he was more than fine with that.) “You should know I’m not here to mess anything up! Just popped up here to check out how things are going on your end. I don’t expect them to be moving quite as fast as my folks, obviously, but I figured if anyone could help speed the process up a little, it’d be yours truly.”

The echidna appeared momentarily torn between the promise of getting complete peace and quiet on his island sooner, or getting marginally more peace and quiet right now by hurling Sonic bodily off the island. Eventually, he just fixed the hero with his most stern glare, before pointing wordlessly to the door of the Hidden Palace.

Sonic snickered, strolling casually into the building and enjoying the irate grumbling behind him. Knuckles was just too easy to rile up, and his reactions were always fantastic.

“Oh, Knuckles, did you find out who it wa—Sonic!”

The hedgehog in question nearly jumped in surprise, but managed to conceal it beneath a smooth pivot to face the speaker…only to smile broadly once he registered just who it was. 

Sitting at one of the consoles around the massive room was none other than Porker Lewis, his old friend and former fellow Freedom Fighter. Porker practically leapt out of his chair, dashing over to greet Sonic more properly. “It’s just wonderful to see you! How’s everything going?”

Sonic flashed his trademark grin, not-so-subtly preening in response to Porker’s unfiltered enthusiasm. “You know me, always chillin’. Howzabout yourself, Lewis? Enjoying that island life?” he added, winking.

Porker smiled wryly, shaking his head. “I’m liking it a lot more now that Robotnik’s gone. Getting to help repair the technology Knuckles’s ancestors left behind is important work, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not nearly as intense as trying to topple a dictatorship.”

The hero’s face didn’t move a millimeter, but somehow, his smile felt so much more strained. “Yeah. It’s…good that’cha can just work on that now instead of having to put up with badniks all day, every day.”

Porker’s own expression faltered briefly, before he brightened up again, albeit more mellow than before. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t just come here to stand around and talk! I’m supposed to be repairing some of the zoom tubes in the Hydrocity Zone today, but I can leave that for later if you want to have a look around Mushroom Hill together.”

“Psh, no way! It’s been ages since I got to give Hydrocity the old run-around, I’ve gotta see if I can beat my fastest time down there! You wouldn’t deprive your old buddy Sonic a chance to do that, wouldja?” The blue hedgehog bounced into a more dynamic stance, one fist held in front of himself and his other hand thrown back as though he were about to spindash right this very second.

“If you tear up this chamber, I will throw you into the ocean.” Knuckles huffed, making Sonic scoff and straighten back up to face the serious guardian. At that very moment, Sonic’s eyes caught on exactly what Knuckles was leaning against—specifically, one of the switchboards in front of the Emeralds’ storage column. 

“Forget it, Porker…you’ve already done more than your share.”

“Don’t mention her, buddy. Lately she’s been driving me up the wall!”

“Whaaaa—!”

(The rock Sonic had been leaning against crumbled beneath him without warning, and he was sent pitching backwards into the column of pure Chaos energy. It surged through him, bright and powerful…and…violent…)

“Whoa, hey, Sonic? Sonic? You with me?”

“Agh!” He jumped backwards, immediately dropping into a fighting stance…before seeing that it was just Knuckles in front of him, one gloved hand raised as though he’d just been waving it in Sonic’s field of view. “Geez, Knucklehead, warn a guy next time you decide to stick your hand in his face, huh?”

“…you didn’t even react after I said I was gonna…chuck you off the island and all that. I didn’t actually mean it, you know. You might be annoying, but I’m not just going to let you drown.” the echidna muttered, still watching Sonic warily, as though he were about to space out again at any minute.

And Sonic wasn’t having any of that.

“Tch, I was just daydreaming about new ways to spindash that smug look ‘a yours right off your face.” he retorted, folding his arms defiantly. “I don’t hafta dignify every smart-aleck thing you say with a comeback, do I?”

Knuckles rubbed his brow, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Whatever. Porker, can you please take him anywhere that isn’t here? Mushroom Hill, Hydrocity, either way, just…ugh.”

Porker laughed sympathetically, walking up to stand next to Sonic, now with some papers in his arms and some tools on a belt. “I certainly can. So, Hydrocity, is it, then?” he asked the blue hero lightly.

“You know it!” Sonic gave him a thumbs up, before following his old friend to one of the doorways leading out of the Emerald Chamber. 

The two friends traveled down a short hallway, which led to a shaft so deep Sonic couldn’t even begin to see the bottom. Stairs spiraled around its outside, while a pole speared down the center, attached to the ceiling at one end and presumably the floor at the other.

Porker looked over at Sonic. “How about a race? You on the stairs, and me on the pole?” he asked. 

Sonic’s expression split into what had to be the biggest grin he’d worn yet. “You do realize you’re gonna lose embarrassingly, right?”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I can’t at least try, does it?” Porker insisted, his hands in his pockets and the set of his shoulders easy. Internally, Sonic appreciated the sight of his friend relaxed and happy. It had been far too long since he’d last seen Porker like this, after all.

The Hero of Mobius dashed over to the top of the stairs, settling into a sprinter’s starting position. “You sure you’re ready for this, Sonic?” the engineer sked, smiling cheekily as he grabbed onto the pole with both gloved hands.

“Ha! I’ve been ready, Lewis, you oughta know that by now!”

“Alright then!” Porker announced, to the otherwise empty room. “Three! Two! One! Go!”

Immediately, the former Freedom Fighter pushed off the platform and began to slide down the pole—but that could never compare to the power of pure Sonic speed. The instant the sound “go” hit his ears, Sonic tore off down the stairs so fast that anyone watching wouldn’t have been able to make out his features, only seeing the blue blur that had earned him yet another of his many monikers.

Sonic couldn’t help but beam as the wind whistled through his quills and his sneakers pounded on the staircase, loving the thrill of adrenaline that came from riding the line between landing each step as quickly as possible and tumbling into an uncontrolled fall. His agility had to be perfect to pull this off…and of course, it was. He was Sonic the Hedgehog, after all.

Once he hit the bottom, he looked up, waiting for Porker to appear. Thankfully, he’d only just started tapping his foot by the time the engineer came into view.

“Took you long enough!” Sonic smirked up at him, his arms folded and one eyebrow raised.

Porker smiled back. “Well, pardon me for not wanting to free-fall out of control! Not all of us are invincible Heroes of Mobius—that’s your job, after all!”

Sonic hesitated briefly, something about the title resonating oddly in his chest. “Say, speaking of which…it was…a little heroic, kinda, to be the one to clap Robotnik in cuffs like that. How’d you manage it?”

“Oh! Well, it wasn’t much, really. I was just trying to help some of the Emerald Hill folk evacuate out of the Mushroom Hill Zone, when I saw Robotnik trying to escape that massive fight you and Knuckles had with Dr. Zachary! I managed to rally a few of the braver people, and together we got the drop on him and cuffed him before he knew what happened,” Porker explained, beginning to walk into the zone as he spoke. “We were only able to get him because he was so thrown off guard by actually losing his grip on power for once—it was an opportunity we wouldn’t have gotten again! I may have left the Freedom Fighters, but I wouldn’t have been able to sleep at night if I’d let him get away, you know?”

Sonic could feel his confusion showing on his face, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to stop it. “You…I guess, but…”

“Is everything alright?” Porker was frowning in concern, and that was enough to convince Sonic that this conversation wasn’t worth pursuing any longer. 

He laced his hands behind his head casually. “Yeah, sure! You know me, since when am I not?”

“…” When Sonic snuck a peek at his friend out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Porker still looked uneasy. 

Luckily for him, a Bugernaut suddenly swooped down at Porker, forcing him to duck out of the way. Within seconds, Sonic had curled into a ball, smashing the badnik and landing with ease. He quickly scanned the area for any more, spotting a few patrolling in a line farther ahead. While Robotnik was gone, his influence clearly still lingered, even up here on the Floating Island.

Briefly, he glanced back at his friend, who shot him a quick smile and a thumbs-up—which was all he needed to tear off in pursuit. It was a matter of a single jump to reach the nearest platform, and then only one more leap to bounce from badnik to badnik in a line, freeing the various little critters inside.

Sonic landed on an even higher platform, crouching by the edge to scan the ground below for Porker. He could jump down easily…but that would mean more awkward conversation. And when his alternative was scouting ahead and taking out any leftover badniks so Porker wouldn’t have to deal with them? It was hardly a choice at all.

He waved to get Porker’s attention, before jerking a thumb over his shoulder and holding up his fists like he was about to get into a cartoonish fight. The former Freedom Fighter gave him a friendly salute back, before turning back to his path towards the busted zoom tube. Sonic let out a breath that, had anyone else heard, he would have denied having been a sigh. Then, in a blink, he wasn’t there at all, only a blue streak of light marking the path he’d taken. 

Thankfully, he did turn out to have a genuine excuse to rush on ahead, as he found several more clusters of badniks after that initial line of Bugernauts. While Porker followed the lower paths, Sonic took every shortcut he could find in an effort to cover as much ground as possible. However, being thorough did mean he had to make some…unfortunate choices, as well. Hanging from a slow rope pulley above water wasn’t exactly his idea of fun, and neither was the promise of dropping into the water to clear out some aquatic badniks, but let nobody ever say that the Hero of Mobius and leader of the Freedom Fighters wasn’t committed to what he did.

With a gulp of air, Sonic opened his hands and let himself drop, curling into a ball and crashing directly into the water. Thankfully, this particular area seemed to have a fast current to it, meaning that he merely had to keep himself curled up and let the water turn him into a badnik-busting buzzsaw. 

Not really loving the lack of air down here, Sonic thought to himself impatiently, finally uncurling in search of an air bubble once he was reasonably sure the room was clear. Now where would…

There!

A small imperfection in the floor of the area had allowed a tiny crack to form in the material. At that exact point, the liquid could freely drip out—but more importantly, air could flow in. Happily, it didn’t take long at all for an air bubble to appear that was big enough for Sonic to use, and he inhaled the oxygen inside eagerly.

His energy restored, the hedgehog made his way over to a slightly narrower section of pipe, letting the current sweep him along once more. Annoyingly, the water turbines were still active, but it was a small price to pay for his otherwise quick progress, and he could easily avoid them with the help of the support struts used to help the pipe hold its shape. Besides, before long, he was spindashing up a ramp and out of the water, soaring high into the air before landing with perfect ease. 

After a bit of casual platform-hopping, Sonic spied Porker a little ways away, kneeling by a strange mechanism and seemingly inspecting it. This must’ve been the fix-it job he had to do, Sonic mused, before leaping down to join his friend alongside the ancient travel system. 

“So, how’s it going?” he asked, making poor Porker yelp and drop his screwdriver with a clatter, startled.

“Sonic!” he scolded, but his smile severely diminished any attempt at properly convincing the hedgehog to regret his actions. “You startled me!”

“I have eyes, I noticed,” Sonic quipped, shifting to lean casually against the wall. “You didn’t answer my question though, you really gonna leave a guy hanging like that? And here I thought we were friends.” he complained, wearing a faux-devastated expression.

Porker stared at him blankly for a moment, before recognition lit up his eyes. “Oh, yes, of course! It really is on you for making me forget, though.” Sonic scoffed lightly, but otherwise didn’t speak, leaving room for Porker to continue.

“It’s frankly quite a simple fix,” the engineer began. “While the tubes themselves are largely made of stone, the mechanical parts that create the vacuum necessary to enable this kind of rapid travel are much more delicate and therefore prone to failure. That’s why the tubes here aren’t working anymore—there must have been a malfunction in this area. Now all I need to do is open it up—” and just as he said this, he heaved a panel off the side of the structure in front of him, revealing an incomprehensible mess of pistons, cogs, and other unidentifiable bits and bobs. “—and figure out what's going on in here.”

“Huh. Why’d the echidnas decide to stick this thing all the way down here instead of up with everything else in the Emerald chamber? Somehow I don’t get the sense they were particularly in it for the sightseeing opportunity.” Sonic remarked, moving to lean against a different piece of the machine’s casing.

Porker’s laugh rang out from the metal walls of the structure, having already slid mostly inside to take a closer look. “Beats me! Knuckles and I are still having quite a time working on translating the ancient language used on most of the schematics for this place. We just got the blueprints for this all sorted out yesterday—it only became a major priority when the tubes stopped functioning. I haven’t even had a chance to dig through more of what we think are records, since most of our focus has been on the way the Floating Island works anyhow.”

Sonic smirked at the sound of Porker’s evident good mood. “Ol’ Knucklehead better have those blueprints all translated correctly, or else he’s gonna wind up going backwards instead of forwards next time he hops in one a’ these!”

“Oh goodness, I certainly hope it doesn’t come to that!” Porker still sounded amused, but also a little concerned. Not ideal. “At least they’d be working again, I suppose!”

“Well, pal, tell ya what. ‘Cause I’m such a kind and generous soul, I’ll give the tubes a spin once you’ve got them all set up! Just make sure to double-check your screws first—I’m not about to have Knuckles laughing at me if I get closely acquainted with the nearest rock, alright?”

“I’ll certainly do my best!” the engineer replied brightly. “Wait—oh, Sonic, I think I’ve found the problem!” he added, shifting around some more inside the machine.

“Forreal? Huh, I guess all that studying must’ve been worth it if you can find the problem that fast!” Sonic remarked, pushing off from the metal plating and strolling around to where Porker was.

“It’s a relatively simple issue too, thank goodness,” his friend continued, “there’s a hole in the main conduit for the pressurized air. In the long term, this pipe should really be replaced, but for now, I think a simple patch job will suffice.”

“What, and you just happen to have ‘pipe patcher’ on ya at all times?” Sonic asked, snickering slightly. “You go to dinner at someone’s house and think ‘oh no, better not leave my pipe patches at home’?”

Porker’s sigh echoed in the machine’s chamber. “It’s really not all that special, all I’m using is duct tape. So long as it makes a proper seal—which I’m being careful to do now—it should hold well enough for us to go back and get a proper replacement. And duct tape is an essential part of any engineer’s toolkit, especially when they’re going to do some engineering work. Which is exactly what we came down here to do.”

“We?” the hedgehog asked. “S’far as I can see, you’re the one doing all the fix-it jobs around here, I’m just tagging along to clear out badniks and have a good time. Wouldn’t wanna be inside that thingamajig anyway, you can barely even move in there!”

Porker made a movement that seemed to suggest a shrug. “It’s really not that bad,” he said, beginning to extricate himself from the mess of machinery. “I honestly find it quite comfortable—though I must admit there have been a couple of times when the sentries didn’t think to warn me politely before tapping me…I earned myself quite a few bruises before they learned not to do that.” Now fully outside, he shook his head with a slightly tired smile. “At least they apologized afterwards, I suppose.”

“Aw, man, I wish I’d been there! I would’ve paid good money to see that!” Sonic clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, grinning good-naturedly. “So, we gotta head back and grab that piece, yeah?”

Porker nodded in agreement. “Yes, we do, but first—”

But by the time the word “yes” had left his mouth, Sonic was already in the tube.

“Aw yeah!” he whooped to himself, rocketing upwards at a breathtaking speed. “This is the good stuff!”

Suddenly, however, he noticed that his speed was…beginning to slow down. He frowned. The zoom tubes normally didn’t do that at all, instead letting him blast out at full speed. This wasn’t a new problem Porker would have to fix, was it?

Sonic felt his quills begin to raise as he continued to decelerate, scraping uselessly against the near-frictionless surfaces of the inside of the tubes. The air grew weaker and weaker, struggling to push him up a vertical passage, and the Hero of Mobius felt a cold chill settle in his stomach. 

He curled up just a little tighter, trying to use the movement to regain even a fraction of forward momentum, and that was enough to get him through the bend onto a horizontal plane, but then—

—he stopped moving.

Entirely.

Sonic the Hedgehog, the fastest thing on Mobius, could no longer move.

~~~

Porker Lewis, on the other hand, was running as quickly as he possibly could.

He’d wanted to warn Sonic that he needed to check the air pressure first, make sure everything was at least moderately in working order before he let his friend give the zoom tubes a test run, but while Sonic’s thoughts moved much faster than his own, that didn’t necessarily mean he had a greater amount of caution. Now, Porker had no idea where Sonic was, nor whether he’d even made it out of the tubes at all.

Still, the engineer pushed himself to follow the path upwards, in spite of the increasing difficulty he met with as he climbed. More precarious platforms, more obstacles, and wider gaps had to be dealt with, slowing Porker down as he struggled to navigate, but he refused to let the tube out of his sight. He had to be coming to a bend or junction soon at this rate…

And then, he saw it. The tube made a right angle, running along the ceiling of the Hydrocity Zone, and within it, just visible through the glass paneling, was a ball of blue.

Quickly, Porker scanned the area. The panel was held in place by a frame, which could be easily removed with his screwdriver, but getting to the tube in the first place would be rather more difficult. Further examination revealed that there were small crevices and ledges on the wall adjacent to it that he could use to climb up, but staying in position without falling and injuring himself would be complicated, especially since he would essentially need to turn around while on the wall to properly remove the paneling. 

Still, it was the best he could do, given the situation. Removing the screwdriver from his tool belt and holding it in his mouth, Porker began to clamber up the side of the rock wall, moving as quickly as he could without putting himself in danger. He would be no use at all to Sonic with a broken leg, of course.

Speaking of him—“Sonic! I’m going to unscrew the paneling! You’ll be out shortly!” Porker shouted, forcing his voice as loud as it could possibly go.

If his friend replied, the engineer couldn't hear it. Nerves gripped his heart as he forced himself to climb faster, reaching the top soon after. Now came the difficult part; he braced himself with a hand against the pipe, before carefully shuffling his feet in a manner that would allow him to turn around and press his back against the rock wall.

The only thing keeping him from falling now was the strength of his arm as he pushed against the tube.

Carefully, Porker began to unscrew the frame bit by bit, wiggling the screws out of their housing one by one and letting them drop to the floor. After the third screw, his supporting arm began to tremble, but he refused to let it falter. Not when Sonic was counting on him.

The fourth screw dropped. At first, the frame refused to move, but a good whack with the screwdriver fixed that—followed by a sudden flinch from Porker as the glass panel dropped and shattered on the ground below.

“Good heavens, that’ll be quite the repair job…” he muttered to himself, before recalling exactly what the situation was at the moment.

“Sonic? Sonic, can you hear me?” he called, craning his neck in an effort to get a better look at the insides of the tube. He could see the ball of blue spines pretty well, actually, but something wasn’t quite right.

“…oh.” Porker murmured quietly.

Sonic was shaking.

He would have to get the hedgehog out all by himself, but how? He certainly couldn’t reach into the tube, not from this angle, and Sonic was clearly unable to move. The only thing he did seem capable of, as a matter of fact, was bristling his spines.

Wait. If Sonic had his spines raised, then that meant they could catch on something, yes? Porker began to hurriedly shrug off his jacket, only pausing to swap hands on the pipe once his screwdriver was back in his belt. Frowning in an effort to better gauge the distance, he swung the jacket back and forth once, twice, and then up into the tube—and thank goodness, at least one thing had gone right in this whole mess, when the cloth caught securely on Sonic’s spines.

Porker pulled as hard as he could, and for once the near-frictionless surface of the zoom tubes proved useful when his friend moved along with little resistance. Uncomfortably slowly, given the awkward angle, Sonic’s curled-up form slid further and further forward until finally, he slipped out of the opening.

What Porker had forgotten, however, was that Sonic had weight, and weight affected both balance and gravity.

What this meant, in practice, was that Porker very nearly wrenched his arm out of its socket fighting to keep them both from falling.

Even then, he didn’t succeed for very long, pitching forward and off the face of the wall soon afterwards. At the very least, his fall was more controlled, so that when he landed, he merely sprained his ankle instead of breaking it. (Happily, he was also able to avoid the shattered glass on the ground. Things would have gotten much more complicated if he hadn’t, and he was already about at his limit for complications.)

He ought to be thankful for small mercies, he supposed, because that at least meant the pain wasn’t so excruciating that he couldn’t check on his friend. 

“Sonic? Sonic, are you al—are you hurt?” he asked quickly, pulling himself along the ground towards the hero, who had uncurled and was now on his hands and knees, with his head hanging between his arms.

For a moment, Sonic didn’t respond at all, and Porker felt a pang shoot through him. Just a second later, though, the hedgehog sat up, raising an eyebrow at him cockily. “Am I hurt? You’re the one who can’t curl up into a ball here, I’m not the one you should be checking on.” 

“I wasn’t just talking about the fall. I meant before that, too.” Porker insisted, unwilling to let it go quite so easily.

“Tch, what, me getting stuck in the tube? Just don’t tell Knucklehead, he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Porker felt his stomach turn uncomfortably. He really, really didn’t want to push this, but the thought of Sonic pretending that nothing had happened sat even worse with him. Shakily, he inhaled once, then sighed, and felt his shoulders tense up as he prepared to speak again.

“Sonic.” Porker insisted. “I saw you shaking with my own two eyes. I can’t just let that go.”

“What, me? Shaking?” Sonic scoffed. “You of all people should know that the Hero of Mobius doesn’t shake, pal.”

The engineer frowned…and then abruptly his expression softened, as something that Sonic had just said caught his attention. “No, I get it. The Hero of Mobius doesn’t shake, you’re right. But, well, my old friend Sonic, from way back in Green Hill…he’s allowed to get scared in front of me, I think. Whether or not he thinks he should.”

“Uh, you sure you didn’t hit your head in that fall, Lewis?” Sonic asked, now the one to squint over at his friend in confusion. “In case you forgot, this speedy blue hedgehog—y’know, the one called Sonic—is the Hero of Mobius.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest for emphasis.

Porker took another deep breath subtly, trying his best to keep from getting exasperated. “That’s true. But being the Hero of Mobius is a job, and being Sonic just…is. You’re Sonic all the time, but you’re only the Hero of Mobius when you want to be. And you don’t have to be in front of me.”

“You sure about that one? ‘Cause last I checked, only one of us was up to being a hero.” Sonic shot back.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he froze, his eyes widening slightly and his teeth snapping together so hard they clicked in the suddenly heavy silence.

“Porker—we can—just forget that happened, ‘kay? Apparently my mouth moves as fast as the rest of me sometimes, heh.” 

Porker gave Sonic a surprisingly flat look, making the hedgehog’s poor attempt at humor fizzle out into nothingness. His grin twisted into a grimace, and his hands balled into fists on the floor as he avoided Porker’s eyes.

Well, at least now he’s hiding his emotions less, the former Freedom Fighter thought to himself, internally sighing.

“Sonic.” he said softly, and while his friend didn’t flinch, his fingers did tighten noticeably.

“I’m not upset. Or—well—I am, but not at you. I just don’t like that you feel you have to be a hero around me all the time. I know we were fighting Robotnik for so long, it’s kind of hard to be anything else…but before that, we were just friends, stumbling our way through life together.”

Porker sighed, allowing himself a bittersweet smile. “I’d like to go back to being that way, at least to some extent, now that the war is over.” He hesitated briefly, before continuing, “If you don’t want to though, for whatever reason, I’ll understand.”

Sonic laughed, but his eyes were too wide for it to seem genuine. “Hey, what? Of course we’re friends, there’s no way I’d wanna change that! Why on Mobius would you ever think I would?”

“It’s…difficult to explain.” Porker began, picking up a chunk of debris and worrying circles into it with his thumb. “Sometimes it feels like when you look at me, you’re seeing just another civilian to protect, instead of, well, me.”

“Well, that’s not it at all!” Sonic straightened up boldly. “It’s totally different—I’m just making sure you don’t have to deal with the difficult stuff anymore after we—after you, y’know, got stuck on, uh, Little Planet.”

“Sonic, just because I was too stressed out to continue fighting in a war doesn’t mean I’m too distraught to live my life, or to help my friends when they could use a hand!” the engineer explained. “Besides, living here on the Floating Island has done wonders for me, I’d say.”

Sonic had sported a strangely skeptical expression for the first part, but when he finally spoke up, it wasn’t in response to that at all. “Was it really good enough for you that you were able to handle Robotnik?” he asked, frowning genuinely.

Porker stared blankly at his friend for a few moments as several things suddenly slotted into place. “Is that what you meant when you asked me how I was able to cuff him earlier?”

Sonic’s sudden eagerness to look away and shift positions, combined with a short “Eh, it’s whatever. Never mind.” told him all he needed to know.

He bit back his first instinct, which was to get upset that Sonic essentially seemed to view him as an invalid, no longer capable of functioning in the face of difficult situations. Getting upset wouldn’t help here—he’d known Sonic long enough to be certain that if he got angry, Sonic’s temper would flare up to match. Instead, he struggled to work out how best to explain his current situation to his friend. 

Porker knew that Sonic had gone through a difficult process when he’d decided to leave the Freedom Fighters, and had taken some time to come around to the fact that not everybody had his level of fortitude and resilience when it came to coping with difficult situations. However, it seemed like Sonic had understood Porker’s choice to leave as a permanent “off” switch on his abilities, instead of the truth, which was that the scales of “desire for freedom” and “fear of lasting damage” had simply tipped in the other direction, without any weight being removed from the former.

Suddenly, he was jolted from his musings by the voice of the hedgehog in question. “Listen, how about we head back to Hidden Palace and grab whatever parts you need? That way you can show me around some more, yeah?”

Slowly but surely, Porker got to his feet, sighing tiredly and trying not to wince at a twinge from his ankle. “Hang on, I just wanted to explain one thing first. You mind if I talk your ear off for just a moment?” He shot Sonic a half-smile, and that seemed to do the trick.

“Sure thing, pal. Hit me.” he replied carefully, moving to lean against the wall.

“I may have assumed this was more obvious than it actually was, but…I was always scared. Even when you first asked me to join the Freedom Fighters, I was frightened as anything.” Porker began, cringing internally as Sonic tensed up once again. “But the thing was,” he hurried to add, “I believed in the better future you talked about more than I felt afraid. So I pushed myself to join because I wanted to help make a world where people like me didn’t have to be so scared all the time, and that was enough to keep me going.

“But then…when I was held on Little Planet for so long…” Porker trailed off, memories of wire biting into his arms and endless examinations flashing before his eyes briefly. He blinked rapidly and squeezed the rock in his hand tighter in an effort to dispel the images—only to look up into an expression on Sonic that was emptier than any he’d ever seen before.

The engineer sighed and shook his head, smiling ruefully. “After that, I was so worried about it happening again that I couldn’t contribute to the team like I wanted, and, well, you know the rest.” He paused for a moment, composing his next sentence in his head. “I think there was one thing I should’ve said to you back then, but didn’t, because I thought it was obvious.”

“Yeah?” Sonic’s voice was perfectly measured, perfectly even.

“I don’t blame you for what happened. I don’t even see how I could—I knew the risks, I knew Mobius had to be kept safe, and I made my choice. I mean, in the end, it all worked out too. If that was really what had to happen to start the chain of events that led to the Empire of Metallix being defeated, then I can’t even say I regret it.”

“Porker.” Sonic marched over, staring at him with narrowed eyes. “Now I know for a fact you hit your head in that fall. Either that or I need to get my ears checked, because I know I didn’t just hear you say you’re okay with the fact that we all left you there.”

“What else am I supposed to say?” he asked, genuinely. “We were in a difficult situation, not to mention a dangerous profession. Awkward choices and bad experiences were bound to happen eventually. All things considered, I escaped without any serious physical damage and got the space I needed to work on healing mentally. Things could have gone a whole lot worse—”

“But they also could’ve gone better!” Sonic barked. “We left you there! We all could’ve gone back with you, fought off the Metallix together!”

“And left the planet defenseless against Robotnik? That would’ve been terribly dangerous.” Porker forced himself to keep his posture open, hoping that having something else to focus on would help him feel less stunned that his friend was on the verge of yelling at him. “Besides, it’s equally possible that the Metallix would have overpowered us all, seeing as we’d be stuck there for a month, and then who would have saved us from them?”

“What, so are you telling me you’re fine with the way things turned out?” the hedgehog snapped.

“Yes and no,” Porker replied, hating how stiff his voice had become, but unable to search for any better words, “I certainly would have preferred to not be trapped on Little Planet for a month, but since I was, and we were able to destroy the empire that I was stuck with, I don’t really have anything left to be angry about. I may be upset that it happened to me, but I’ve decided that I don’t resent anyone for the way it happened.”

“Yeah? Well, good for you, but not all of us feel that way, y’know.” Sonic spat.

Porker hesitated for a moment. He had a feeling that he knew exactly what his friend meant, but he wanted to check something first.

“Are you upset with me for going back?”

“Wh—f—why would I be mad at you?” Sonic looked like he was about to explode, face twisted into a snarl. “It’s the Metallix’s fault, for being scummy enough to treat you like they did! It’s Robotnik’s fault, for making those machines in the first place, and for making a Mobius where there needed to be Freedom Fighters at all! And—and it’s on me for asking you to join the Freedom Fighters, because then this’d never have happened!”

The walls of Hydrocity Zone rang with the echo of Sonic’s outburst.

“…we’re done here.” the hedgehog muttered, turning away.

“N-n-no, we’re not.” Porker insisted, still gripping the rock, now so tightly that his hands shook. Sonic whipped around, his eyes hard, but Porker pushed onwards as quickly as he could. “S-Sonic, you couldn’t have possibly known this would happen. You may be a hero, but you’re not the Omni-Viewer—you can’t kn-know or do everything. And that’s fine!” he added, quickly, seeing Sonic’s quills begin to rise. “I don’t, I don’t expect you to, and anyone who does is being absurd, frankly. All you knew when you asked me to join was that Robotnik needed to be s-stopped, and that I was smart enough to help. And all you could—could do when I went back to Little Planet was make an impossible choice, and if you’re sorry that I got hurt, then I’m sorry I put you in a position to choose between me and everyone else.

“I don’t know if you really do r-regret asking me to join the Freedom Fighters—and if you do, I can try to understand why, but I have to inform you that I disagree whole-heartedly. You would n-not have survived fighting Robotnik on your own, you needed others by your side, and you were a big enough person to a-admit that in spite of the fact that I’m sure you would have preferred otherwise. If you regret asking me, then do you regret asking Johnny, or Tails? Do you regret bringing all of us into this? Because let me tell you, if I have to choose between a future where I am traumatized but alive, or a future where I never met the Metallix and you are gone, I would choose the former every time!”

Porker’s legs wobbled beneath him, and he lowered himself to the ground quickly, breathing hard and fast. “S-sorry, sorry for my harsh tone at the end there.” he apologized. “I didn’t m-mean to get so worked up.”

“…Porker.” Sonic said, no longer facing him, his voice strangely quiet in a way the engineer had never heard before. “You’re—right. About all of it. I’m glad you said yes when I asked you to join. Without you, we’d never have saved Kintobor, or gotten all the gadgets we needed to fight. It just, you know. Like you said. We were friends, but I was also the leader. That made your safety my responsibility. And you know me, I don’t like to, well. Lose. Heh.” He laughed humorlessly, even as his hands twitched and shifted with surprising intensity. “When you’re the Hero of Mobius, and you don’t save someone. Anyone. But especially a friend. It makes a guy wonder if he still gets to call himself a hero. If he still…has that friend. After he couldn’t keep him from getting permanently hurt. You know.”

“I think I do know.” Porker replied, almost instantly, needing to make sure Sonic knew that this opening up, no matter how stilted, was the right thing to do. “And I know that his friend has been with him for a while. His friend has seen him save people so many times, over and over again, even without a reward. So, quite frankly, if there was ever a time when he didn’t save someone, that friend would not doubt for a second that he didn’t wish things had gone differently. But,” he added, “this friend would also care about him a lot. And his friend would feel terrible if it seemed, for even a second, that a choice that the friend made was something he was using to make himself feel worse, whether he thought he deserved it or not. Because his friend is, well, his friend, right? So of course that friend wouldn’t want him to torture himself using the thought of what happened. 

“After all, he may be a hero—an incredible hero, even—but he can’t do everything, and like I said earlier, that's okay. That’s why the rest of us were there, to help him be able to do everything with our help. And sometimes that meant we were in danger, just like him. But that was okay, because there was no place we’d rather be than by his side, helping to make the world a better place.”

A single drop of water wet the stone by Sonic’s feet.

“There’s—” he croaked, before cutting himself off and abruptly clearing his throat. “There’s nobody I would rather have had with me.”

“I’m glad.” Porker smiled gently, and hoped it carried through in his voice.

“Ugh, first Super, now this—what is it with me and coming to visit you that makes bad things happen?” Sonic groaned, finally turning around once again (and the engineer elected not to notice how he was still working to compose himself).

“Well, in the very, very long run, that was a good thing too, considering that Super’s EMP blast was what enabled us to defeat Robotnik.” Porker said.

“Oh, so you’re not upset about that either?” Sonic asked, voice caught halfway between sarcastic and hesitant.

“Sonic!” the engineer huffed. “Super’s transformation process is completely involuntary! It may be frightening in the moment, but I would never, ever blame you for his actions!”

“…good to know.” Sonic said simply. “Speakin’ of which, I saw you two put up some better walls around the Emerald chamber, good to see we won’t have any more falling accidents.” He finally turned around, his arms folded and smirk back in place. “Don’t wanna find out what Super Porker is like or anything.”

“I hope seeing the Emerald chamber again wasn’t what bothered you earlier.” Porker’s brow furrowed in concern. “I didn’t even consider how it might be an unpleasant place to be…”

Sonic’s smirk lessened just a fraction. 

“You know, you’re always free to talk about it if you’d like.” Porker said, but when Sonic scoffed, he already knew it was a lost cause.

“Listen, I’ve had more than enough ‘talking about it’ for one visit.” Sonic rolled his eyes and did exaggerated air quotes, but…

…‘for one visit’ wasn’t ’for a lifetime’. Maybe it wasn’t such a lost cause after all.

Porker decided to take pity on his friend at last. “Would you like to head back to Hidden Palace now? You can bother Knuckles some more while I find the part I need to repair the zoom tubes.” 

“Finally!” Sonic exclaimed. “As much as I appreciate a good cave adventure every now and then, I’d rather be somewhere I can actually see the sun. Come on, let’s get moving.” He began to walk back towards the entrance, making Porker hesitate and frown over at him.

“…you’re not going to scout on ahead again?”

Sonic looked over at him, surprise registering for the briefest of seconds before he relaxed, his usual smirk returning—albeit somewhat crookedly. “Nah. If any badniks haven’t learned their lesson by now, we can handle ‘em.”

Porker could feel himself smiling wider than he had all day, enough so that Sonic seemed to notice. “Shut your trap, pixel-brain.” he grumbled, folding his arms. “Haven’t we had enough sappy nonsense already?”

“Fair enough,” Porker admitted. “So, how’s the rebuilding process going back in Emerald Hill?”

“The new town’s looking better every day!” Sonic’s grin returned in full force. “It’s gonna be much more defensible, but it’s also just way better quality and more sturdy than before.”

“That’s fantastic.” Porker said, suddenly feeling as though a weight he hadn’t even noticed had been lifted off his chest. “As much as the hillfolk have appreciated Knuckles’s hospitality, they seem eager to get home.”

“It’ll be good to have them back.” Sonic sighed. “Seeing the world start to live a post-Robotnik life sure is something, huh?”

“It really is. Sometimes I wondered if we’d be fighting for the rest of our lives,” Porker smiled ruefully. “But I’m so happy that isn’t the case.”

They walked together in silence for about half a minute, giving them both time to admire the water flowing through the caverns and the massive pillars helping to keep it all stable. The fact that the colors on the pillars hadn’t faded after all this time was fascinating to Porker, and he was beginning to think back on the papers Knuckles had gotten from that pirate fellow—

Sonic abruptly dragged his hands down his face and groaned. “Now you’ve gone and done it! Why’d you have to bring up Super in the first place, now I can’t stop thinking about him!”

“Technically, you brought him up.” Porker corrected him, before smiling sheepishly when Sonic shot him a glower (without any heat behind it, of course).

“Listen, it’s just—something about falling into the Emerald chamber made him way worse than usual. I don’t know all of it, but lemme tell ya…” He trailed off, staring into the middle distance.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Porker said softly, wishing he could give his friend a hand on his shoulder or a hug, but that wouldn’t help someone like Sonic. Instead, he jammed his hands in his pockets, kept walking, and waited.

“Ugh…waking up in the wreckage of our plane with the others nowhere in sight…fire everywhere…feeling myself laughing without knowing why…it’s good he’s gone, ‘cause I’m never about to see something like that again.” Sonic spat, forcing the tremor from his voice.

Porker felt his stomach turn. “Nobody told me about that! I can’t imagine how that must have felt, being amongst all that devastation without knowing what had happened!”

“They didn’t even tell me they were alive for days.” Sonic muttered, his shoulders hunched. “Super was still an issue, I know why they didn’t, but they left me thinkin’ I’d—! For days!” Suddenly, he kicked a rock with such speed and violence it shattered on impact.

Sonic clenched his fists, stopping in his tracks in an attempt to catch his breath. Porker shifted a little closer to him, worrying the fabric of his gloves with his fingers. “I’m sorry that happened. I’m guessing you haven’t mentioned this to any of them?”

“Why would I?” Sonic scoffed. “It worked, didn’t it? They fixed the problem.”

Porker opened his mouth—then hesitated—then sighed gently. “Well. I can see why they might have done that, but I don’t necessarily think it was the perfect solution. And if you ever want to talk about it more…I’m here. As your friend.”

“…you meant what you said earlier, right?”

“Hmm?” Porker blinked. “I said a lot of things earlier, I’m afraid you’ll have to remind me.”

“About…not blamin’ me for the stuff he does.” Sonic muttered, clearly embarrassed.

“Of course I did!” he insisted. “And I’ll say it as many times as you need! I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you. I don’t—” 

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Sonic snickered, shoving Porker lightly. “Save your breath for all these stairs, we gotta climb them to get back up to that knucklehead.”

“Oh, good heavens.” Porker sighed, eyeing up the spiral staircase warily.

Sonic rolled his eyes, his trademark smirk softening just a fraction. “Forget it, Porker, just grab on tight.”

Seconds later, they were back in the main room of the Hidden Palace.

The engineer pulled his wrist from Sonic’s grip, stumbling over to the nearest control panel and slumping into a seat. “I will never be used to that,” he wheezed, chuckling lightly.

“Sonic, you’d better not have broken my best engineer!” Knuckles barked, stomping over to the two of them.

“Isn’t he also your only engineer?” Sonic shot back.

“All the more reason not to drag him along when you decide to have a run around!” the echidna insisted.

“Knuckles?” Porker called, interrupting the two’s bickering. He had removed one of his shoes—but not his sock, obviously—and was bandaging up his sore ankle. Both of the others seemed concerned, but when he smiled reassuringly, they both trusted him enough to back off. “Oh yeah, just turned my ankle, nothing major. Anyhow, do you know where the replacement air conduits are? We found the break, but my temporary fix wasn’t much of a fix at all.”

“Drawer 14B.” he replied, already heading off in that direction. “I’ll get it for you if you keep this prickly tank of hot air out of my face some more. Take him to Mushroom Hill or something, have him play with the toddlers a bit to burn off that energy.”

Sonic huffed, tapping his foot rapidly. “Hot air?! You come back here and say that to my face! C’mon, Porker, let’s leave the guardian to his sulking.”

The engineer laughed under his breath as he joined his friend once again. “You two could have a whole comedy show with that kind of banter.” he said warmly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Sonic rolled his eyes. “Now who needs help packing up?”

Porker did indeed proceed to show Sonic all around the Mushroom Hill Zone, and the two helped out where their skills were needed as the citizens of Emerald Hill prepared to return to their long-evacuated home. (As a matter of fact, Sonic sped up the process by at least half a day, which went greatly appreciated amongst everyone present.)

Once they had finished with that, Sonic admitted that he should probably head back soon, to make sure that the rebuilding process was still going well and that his other friends didn’t need him for anything urgent. Porker walked him back to the plane, the two chatting about memories new and old along the way. And just before Sonic hopped into the cockpit, he placed a hand on Porker’s shoulder—the only differences from last time being that Sonic was the one to leave via plane instead…and that Porker put his hand over Sonic’s for just the briefest of moments.

As the Hero of Mobius took off, he looked back for a second to see his old friend waving him off with a smile on his face, and he couldn’t help but feel pleased to know that he was welcome back whenever he felt like it. To his surprise, however, there was one other thing he noticed—or rather, the absence of something.

This time, when he had settled into his plane and prepared for takeoff, the memories of Super hadn’t been there. Even now that he noticed it, even though he could still remember the fire, now, there was also…

“I don’t blame you.”

And wasn’t that just something else?

[damnation-if]

i’ve been having a really atrociously bad time lately so i thought i’d amuse myself by skipping ahead and just. writing something really fun; this is part of a possible scene you Might see like half a dozen chapters from now if you make certain choices and if your mc ends up being pretty close with Heluur asjbgdfg

(REALLY don’t click on this if you want to avoid spoilers)

You can see a few of the Inquisitors beginning to get antsy, shifting back and forth on their feet and exchanging worried glances, as the gentle patter of rain on the church’s steepled roof gradually becomes louder and louder. One or two of them flinch as a sudden crack of thunder rattles the windows, fiery red light turning the lens of stained glass above you into a hellish beacon for a brief moment.

Their leader must be able to see some of your thoughts plainly on the face of your captor, because he glares darkly at you, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. “What? What is it? Speak!”

You laugh at him, the blood leaking from your (//her//) cracked and dehydrated tongue gurgling as the memory of the carnage of that first night replays in your mind.

“You should run,” you tell him, grinning–you’re compelled to tell the truth, after all.

His first instinct is to sneer at you, perfect teeth glimmering as he snorts contemptuously, but after a second or so he seems to realise the same thing, doubt flickering across his features for the first time since you were summoned here. The woman you’re possessing is trying to scream, trying to warn him… but they’ve weakened her too much in order to make you talk, and you ignore her attempts to regain control as easily as you would a tiny insect buzzing around your head.

“You’re going to regret this,” you add, as another lightning strike splits the sky, “but only for a very short time.”

[[And then the earth trembles…]]

Although that doesn’t seem like an extreme enough word to describe the catastrophic upheaval that breaks out, the Inquisitors all crashing to the ground as something gargantuan strikes the earth outside. The sound of it is a phenomenon all of its own, the groaning of the earth so loud that it rattles your (her) teeth, so loud that you can’t even hear the Inquisitors screaming or the screeching of trees being uprooted and structures collapsing, though you //can// sense it, even through your captor’s shattered eardrums.

Before you even have time to wonder what’s going on, the windows explode violently, obliterated by nothing more than the onrushing of air being forced out of a massive space, the wooden pews splintering apart while the door twists in on itself and snaps in half.

Staring at the sky through the smashed circular frame that once held the stained-glass window, your heart begins to beat madly in your chest as a shadow as deep and broad as night itself falls over the church, though not before you manage to spot one single colour–a pearly, iridescent blue.

//Heluur//…

Your mind can barely process what it’s seeing as the church is abruptly ripped in half, a coil of snake tail so large that it could comfortably fit everyone you’ve ever met in your entire life standing on it sweeping the roof and rafters from the crumbling walls like foam before a wave. The monumental scales glitter ferociously in the sudden light as he pulls back, the sound of his impossibly large muscles thundering in the air above you like a mountain moving.

The air screams under the pressure as his tail completes its circuit and the tip comes up over the now-ruined church like a cracking whip, generating a sonic boom so loud and strong that it flattens what remains of the walls into the ground, crushing the Inquisitors below it.

You think this is probably the only time you’ve ever actually seen the //tip// of his tail.

And then suddenly Malkorath is there, though you can’t even imagine how they’re able to move around normally in these circumstances. They rip the manacles loose from the altar and then turn their face upwards, looking no more disgruntled than they might on any other ordinary day.

“Will you get out of here before the gods show up and start a bloody war already?”

[diamondwaters]

❝ love is a choice ❞ chapter xi

summary: what was meant to be a simple, calm trip to an intergalactic museum ended up becoming a a trip through memories the doctor rather wanted to forget. only they weren't her memories. they were yours.

pairing: thirteenth doctor x reader (primary), eleventh doctor x reader

word count: 6.7k

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of toxic ex

The ceiling to your reading room was more intricate than you had expected. You weren’t sure why it had taken you so long to look up at it to notice the weaving vines of gold painted across the dark material, emulating the green ones scattered across the room. Your eyes tried to trail the winding curves of each one, just to pull your consciousness away from the hurricane that started to form there.

It had only been four days since you sat on top of the TARDIS and you realized that you had fallen in love with the Doctor. It still felt weird to admit that to yourself because it still felt impossible to be true. You’d said it was simple, and to some degree, it still was. But having to deal with those feelings was a completely different story.

You felt as if you were going against every single action you’d made in however long you’d been traveling with him. Months– years!– with him, telling each other how much you disliked one another, how you should’ve let the Doctor become a walking doll that weird time! And now you were thinking about the way the Doctor twirled his sonic screwdriver in the air before stashing it away in his jacket, and how his hands just–

So, there you were, laying on the floor with the book you’d initially planned to read discarded on the couch. You’d maybe gotten 20 pages in before the main character started spewing flowery monologues about her crush, and you had to close the book. How were you supposed to read a romance novel while actively trying to avoid being consumed by your own emerging romantic feelings?

You heard the whoosh of the door opening but made no motion to see who had entered. You didn’t have the energy to converse with anyone, let alone use what little you did have in trying to move any of your muscles. The most you could do was continue to listen as footsteps approached you, followed by the sound of the rustling of the carpet below you. You saw a quick flash of red hair from the corner of your eye.

“What are we doing on the floor?” Amy asked once she was lying shoulder to shoulder with you.

You should’ve known that Amy would come to look for you eventually. In those four days, you weren’t yourself and were positive that anyone who knew even an ounce about you could tell. Your banter wasn’t as sharp, and your temperament was more subdued. You were stumbling over words, even to the point where you would, and it pained you to say, let the Doctor have a win. You thought that if you could forfeit on your own terms, it wouldn't be as hard of a blow.

You were well aware that she was catching on to your difference in behavior. When you weren’t looking, you could feel the slits of her narrowed eyes on the back of your neck like knives. The second you felt the piercing sting against your skin, you’d find any excuse to rush into the safety of your bedroom or reading room. Two days ago, you’d even feigned the possibility of a sudden alien sickness. The Doctor was none too happy about the idea of you contracting an illness of unknown origin, but you persuaded him to let you rest it off with the condition you tell him the moment it got worse.

The Doctor was another person with whom you were diligently avoiding. In fact, he was the main one you were trying to get away from the second you got the chance. For the most part, you were capable of being around him without losing your head, but there were a few instances where you had to admit to yourself that something had to give. And quickly.

When the Doctor helped you down from the top of the TARDIS, you thanked him before tripping over your own feet in your haste to retreat. You managed to squeak out a good night, but it probably sounded more like a gargle of incomprehensible syllables.

Then there was the time the Doctor took the three of you to an Old Hollywood party in the 40s. You could barely even focus on Katharine Hepburn batting her long lashes at you while the Doctor was spending his time hiding from his apparent ex-wife Marilyn Monroe. You’d nearly started a scandal from almost pushing Humphrey Bogart into a pool while trying to scamper back to the TARDIS.

And then there was what had occurred only hours before. You were supposed to be hoisting a rope for the trap you’d set for the hostile creature, but the way the Doctor’s tongue poked out of the side of his mouth while he fiddled with the controls made your hands still. You forgot for a moment that you were in yet another life-threatening situation and didn’t remember to keep pulling until Rory was rounding the corner with the monster hot on his trail.

You were a complete wreck, and your inability to get your shit together would make you rip your hair out if this kept up.

“We,” You brushed your shoulder with hers. “Are just thinking.”

You saw the irony right away. There you were, thinking, just like you had been before. Except this time, you were only thinking about one thing. Person, really.

“What about?” Even more irony.

When asked this the second time, you didn’t answer truthfully as before, “I don’t know.”

There was no doubt in your mind that Amy would see through that like she had everything else. All those years of being best friends made you more capable of tuning into one another. There were always things you could pick up on that other people weren't able to, and because of that, you could already see Amy's thought process: You were lying on the floor, thinking, and when asked what you were thinking about, you said you didn’t know. But the thing was, you always knew, and you almost always were ready to prattle on about whatever was bothering you.

“Come on,” Her voice was unusually gentle. She rarely used that kind of tone, which led you to believe that maybe she was more clued in than you might’ve known. “We know each other better than that, don’t we? You can tell me anything, gorgeous.”

You felt like you were betraying every molecule in your body just to even think about it. Admitting it out loud felt like it would unravel your DNA, strand by strand until you were nothing but a pile of indistinguishable human remains. Maybe that was an exaggeration, but you didn’t know any other way to picture it.

“I think…” Your tongue moved awkwardly in your mouth. A pool of saliva formed to combat the sudden dryness of your throat, which you swallowed deeply. On the breath coming back, you confessed, “I think I fell in love.”

In complete silence, there’s a palpable stillness. You didn’t know the existence of touchable sedentary until neither you nor Amy so much as twitched. Any movement would make this feeling disappear, but you were terrified to be the first to break it. You couldn’t even look at Amy for fear of her seeing even the tiniest of cracks. 

This wasn’t the first time the two of you were talking about love, and it wasn’t easy then either. This was different, though. All of the crushes you harbored were ordinary, human people, many of which were decidedly less intolerable than the alien who currently took over your thoughts. 

“U-Um,” Amy’s voice came out a bit cracked. “With who?” 

You nibbled on your bottom lip, still not looking directly at her. You knew that she’d still be able to hear you with your proximity, but you could only whisper, “The Doctor?” 

You felt a warm hand rest itself on your shoulder. You finally forced yourself to look at your best friend after that embarrassment of a statement but felt no judgment coming from her. She was smiling at you, kindness seeping into the delicate lines of her features. 

“I had a feeling.” 

You clapped your hands on your face, burning hotter by the second, and groaned, “Oh, God, am I just that transparent?” 

“No,” Amy nudged your shoulder with the back of her hand. Through your fingers, you glanced at her amused expression. “I just know you. In case you forgot, you moron. When did you know?” 

Your hands fell away from your face. Your face wound tight with contemplation because giving an honest answer meant dealing with the consequences. But lying meant Amy seeing through it and then having to deal with two sets of consequences. You weren’t in the mood for dual repercussions, so you told her the truth, “A few days ago?”

Amy’s eyes rested on you for a few beats too long. You felt the nervous sweat bead your forehead as she pinned you beneath her scrutinizing gaze. You felt like you couldn’t even squirm without being threatened. So focused on the way Amy was glaring at you, you didn’t even notice her fist reaching towards you until you felt the force of a punch on the meat of your upper arm. It wasn’t a particularly painful punch, but it didn’t not hurt. 

“Ow!” 

“You could’ve told me, you idiot!”

“I know, I just-!” You let out a frustrated grunt. You knew that Amy was right; you could tell her anything and she would be there to listen. Any request and she would help you fulfill it. No matter how bizarre this felt to you, she would’ve tried to help you make sense of it right away. Your back fell against the floor in defeat. “When did you figure out that I loved him?” 

Amy slunk back down onto the floor beside you. “When you didn’t ask me to come with you to that ball.” 

“Really? That long?” 

“Do you remember that girl you went to that concert with when you were like… what, fifteen? Sixteen?” Amy asked. 

“Yes, I remember her. Why?” 

“It was the same thing then too. One day, you go out to this concert with this girl– you don’t even tell anyone! Nobody knows until after you come back and you have this look in your eyes.” 

“What look?” 

Amy leaned close to you, “Like you held a star in your hand.”

“Oh my God,” You rolled your eyes and slowly pushed her face away with the palm of your hand. “Who told you about that?”

“He did,” Amy lightly swatted your hand away. “And I was surprised that you didn’t!”

“Because I was pissed at you!” You groaned, swatting her hand right back. “You and Rory totally bailed on me! Don’t think I forgot that the two of you ditched me to go on a second honeymoon.”

“Yeah, because my first one got ruined?”

“Details,” You brushed the information off with a hand wave.

“It made sense, eventually,” Amy continued despite your attempt at dismissal. “Why you were so impassive about the whole thing. You made it seem like you didn’t care about it, and I don’t even think you notice that you do it! And it isn’t a bad thing, I think you just… like to keep the things you care about close to you. It’s a testament to how alike the two of you are.”

“Wha-?”

“No!” Amy held her pointer finger up to you. She pushed herself to a sitting position, her eyes from above holding an inviolate awareness. “Nope, nope, no ! Don’t say a single word! You two are practically the same person! Except one of you happens to wear a fez. On occasion.”

“That isn’t true!” You protested.

“Isn’t it?” Amy raised an intimidating brow at you. “When were you going to tell me about how you felt about the Doctor, huh? When did you plan to tell me? Give me a specific time and date.” You chewed at your bottom lip while trying to give Amy a proper answer. You could find nothing, and Amy noticed that when you sheepishly glanced away. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

"But it isn't like I mean to!" You refuted. Amy was right in that you didn't realize that you withhold things from her. You never wanted to make a big deal out of things, so sometimes you just kept things to yourself. Unlike him, it wasn't like you were doing it with the intention of keeping secrets. "He-! He means to!"

"Do you think that just because one is deliberate and the other isn't makes a difference?" When unwillingly you returned to the uncomfortable silence, Amy continued so that it would vanish. "Exactly. The two of you? You're both secretive, you're both stubborn, and you both absolutely suck at just talking! I think the reason the two of you yell at each so much is so that neither of you have to face the facts."

You didn't want to give Amy the satisfaction of being right; you wouldn't give her that… But you also didn't want to keep hiding things from her, so you found a sort of middle ground. "You aren't… wrong… about that." 

Eyes trained on the loose piece of thread on the blanket draped over the side of the couch, you tried your hardest not to look Amy's way. You didn't know if you would find compassion or one of her looks that screamed, "I told you so!" If it was the latter, you didn't think you could deal with that without bursting into flames of embarrassment.

"What happened?" Or rather, what was so big that you gave up on denying your feelings?

You pressed your lips together and took a breath through your nose, the pressure of the exhale hitting your hand. "We just… talked. It's not like we haven't done it before but… I don't know. I think I just realized that we're both… afraid? Maybe? And kinda just… lonely? Even if there's people around, it's just… I don't know."

The words felt like acid on your tongue that only grew stronger as you spoke. It felt like you shouldn’t have been talking about any of this, yet there you were, stumbling through your points like you were drunk off your own confusion. You might as well have been with the way it was affecting you down to your reading habits.

“So, when are you gonna tell him?”

You let out a stiff snort, “Never.”

Amy stilled, “Excuse me?”

“Amy,” You shook your head almost defeatedly. “Listen, as much as I want to, I don’t think that’s something I can realistically pursue. I mean, come on. He’s an alien that never ages and I’m just, you know, an averagely-aging human. You know all this!”

“So that’s just it?” Amy stood to her feet, leaving you on the floor more confused than you would’ve liked to be. “You’re choosing to give up on this?”

You sat with your mouth agape before managing to stutter out, “I-It’s not like I’m choosing-”

“Yes, you are!” Amy sucked in a hearty breath. She exhaled through her nose and brought her hands up to her face to calm herself. When she felt well enough, she sat back beside you with the caution of someone approaching a deer in the woods. “Listen. I get why you don’t want to talk about these things. I really do. But I also need to give you the honest truth right now because the last thing I’m going to do is let you sit around here and keep sulking like you're 15 and hormonal again.

“You are choosing this, even if you think you have a good reason. Or-Or because you think that there’s no better alternative. That’s what it does to you. You get comfortable in being by yourself, so comfortable that you almost don’t know how to function without it.”

It was like getting splashed with a bucket of ice water while taking the world’s most delightful nap. Nobody likes to acknowledge their flaws, especially not one that you’d been actively trying to ignore. You’d been open with yourself about being lonely, but that was one aspect you weren’t so willing to delve into. You pretended like it was just some normal part of life, when in reality, you held onto loneliness as much as loneliness held onto you.

“Does this have anything to do with your last relationship?”

Your dive into your inadvertent self-inflicted solitary was interrupted by the mere mention of your ex, “H-How do you know about that?”

A flash of guilt spread across Amy’s face, reddening her cheeks, “Your roommate called me one night asking if I knew your favorite flavor of Ben & Jerry’s. Apparently you wouldn’t come out of your room or even... She thought you had told me already, so don’t blame her, okay? But I just kinda waited for you to say something, and you never did.”

“It was a couple months before your wedding, Ames,” You murmured. “I didn’t want to mess that up for you.”

“You wouldn’t have. Look,” Amy clutched your hands in hers. She held them between the two of you while the fireplace’s flames flicked across her face. “I know this is probably… terrifying. Even more so because of that fuckface of an ex and because the Doctor is… him. But that’s what love is. It’s scary and it’s messy and sometimes you want to scream at the sky because you have absolutely no idea why you chose to do it in the first place. And that’s what it is. Love is a choice. And to love someone is a choice that you have to be willing to make every single day. To choose all the good moments and the bad ones and the times where you chase each other around the front lawn with a water hose.”

It was a sentiment that you admired. It felt as though it took some of the pressure off your shoulders. The part about love is that you feel as though there’s nothing you can do to stop it, that your heart is taken from your chest and placed into someone else’s hand. They can do whatever they want with it, and you’re just a simple spectator in the games they play with it. You can plead from the stands or cry out in victory, but the sounds all end up the same in the end.

But something about that belief was so familiar, like you'd heard someone say it before.

“So,” Amy sighed, and the image disappeared. “What are you going to do now?”

The answer that she wanted, and the one she was going to keep pestering you for until she got it, was that you would get up and tell the Doctor how you felt. You just weren’t sure if you could do that. Naturally, you went towards distraction over approach, “What if it doesn’t work out? I mean, what if he doesn’t like me back? Then what?”

“Then it doesn’t work out!” Amy exclaimed like it was just so easy. “I mean, I kissed the Doctor that one time-”

“Don’t remind me,” You cringed.

“And we’re still okay, aren’t we?”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is!” Amy groaned with exasperation. She maneuvered her head to take up the entirety of your field of vision. “But look, for what it’s worth, I think the Doctor feels the same.”

You felt the shiver of defensiveness crawl up your spine, bringing the instinct to deny along with it. You repressed it enough to ask, “Why do you think that?”

“The Doctor has seen everything,” Amy stated. “He likes to say he does at least. So, let’s say he has seen everything. All those amazing wonders of the universe, all the beautiful things it has to offer. But, babes,” Amy pressed her fingertips to the back of your hand. “The way he looked at you? All dressed up for that ball? You might as well have been the sky itself.”

The folded paper in your pocket began to feel heavy with the weight of Amy and River’s words. Imagining the Doctor reciprocating your feelings felt great, sure, but right now, it was all conjecture. Gifts and looks and conversations weren’t enough for you to believe that statement. Not yet, at least.

“So,” Amy emphasized. You knew what she was going to say before she even had to ask it. “What are you going to do now?”

You ran your fingers through your hair, “Do you really think he feels the same?”

“There’s only one way to find out for sure,” Amy gently punched your shoulder. “Now, go. Ask to go somewhere nice! Somewhere fun! And then, when the moment’s right, you tell him. And I’m older than you so you have to do what I say.”

You rolled your eyes playfully while you pulled yourself off the ground. You clenched your fists a few times to loosen the growing rigidity in your fingers. You square your shoulders after a few rolls and a quick deep breath. “Okay. I’m gonna do it. I can do it. Definitely."

“There you go!” Amy encouraged you with a swat to your ass. “Go get that alien booty!”

“Okay, did you have to phrase it like that?”

The trek to the console room was longer than usual. You couldn’t tell if your concept of time was out of whack from nerves or if the TARDIS had just put it further away. In any case, it gave you a few minutes to control the expansion of anxiety in your stomach. You weren’t even at the challenging part yet, and you already felt like a crumbling mess.

The Doctor was beneath the console when you arrived. He heard your shoes scuffing the metal floors and craned his neck to look at you. You could’ve sworn that you saw his eyes light up, but that could very well have been wishful thinking.

“Ah, hello!” The Doctor welcomed. He brushed a bit of soot from his shoulders while jumping to his feet. “Just doing a bit of repairs on the old girl. What can I help you with?”

You blurted out, “Let’s go somewhere.”

You cursed yourself for being so vague, so abrupt as well. You felt frustrated heat spread across the back of your neck but held your head high like you normally would. If it was as much an obvious screw-up as it felt, the Doctor didn’t seem to mention it.

“You’re up for another?” The words were meant to be disbelieving, but they came out filled with excitement. When you gave him a nod, the Doctor practically skipped toward the controls. “Wonderful! Should we go get Amy and Ror-”

“Actually!” You said overtop the Doctor, and you coughed as a cover when you realized how loud you were. “Actually, I was just thinking that it could be the two of us? I-I mean, you know Rory. He’s probably already knocked out, you know? And I just, um, I just came from talking to Amy! And she’s going to join him, so…”

The Doctor stared at you. While he accessed you, you felt like he was mentally dissecting every fracture in your facade. Every nervous twitch you fought to conceal felt like the Doctor’s eyes pinpointed it, but he remained silent about them.

“Yes, best not to wake them I suppose,” The Doctor finally agreed, making you sigh in relief. Watching him start to mess with the controls brought you further into ease. “So! Where to, hm? Perhaps we could go watch the Declaration of Independence being signed! Oh, no wait, last time I tried that, John Adams almost shot me. British accent and all. Or maybe we can hop back to our favorite planet Phosie 373, remember that? I’m sure they’ve forgiven us for accidentally blowing up that monument, right?”

“As fun as that sounds, Doctor, I was thinking maybe somewhere a little more relaxed?”

“Relaxed?” The Doctor said like it was a curse on his tongue. “Okay! Relaxed! I can do relaxed… What kind of ‘relaxed,’ exactly?”

“Right,” You lightly laughed with a head shake. “Forgot that your definition of relaxed includes barely escaping destruction. Still a really shitty definition if you ask me but to each their own, I suppose."

"Oh, well, you-"

"I was thinking something along the lines of a concert? Maybe some fancy alien restaurant? Ooh! Or maybe dancing? Let’s go dancing!”

Even though the last time you attempted to get the Doctor to dance, it ended up with him skirting the edge of the floor with a scowl on his face, you hoped that this time might be different. Perhaps if you got him happy enough, you'd have the courage to tell him.

“Dancing… Okay! Let’s go dancing! There’s so many options to choose from!” The Doctor cheered. “Let’s see… there’s one in Los Angeles in the year 3015. Ooh, but you need those Apple neural contacts to get in. Total scam. Doubt Steve Jobs saw that coming. Oh, what about one on Nonus? No, wait, the air there melts human teeth… Umm… Ah! There’s one in New York in 19… never mind, not that one either.” The Doctor’s voice got unusually grim at the end.

“Why not that one?”

The Doctor didn’t say anything. He just stared at the screen with the time, date, and place glowing brightly. You moved to stand beside him but got distracted for a second from the warmth emanating from him. You tried to push the feeling of his nearness from your thoughts while you examined what had the Doctor so put off.

“1967,” You muttered the year.

The ’60s, especially in America, was a decade you tried not to think about too often. The first time you were there was right after the Doctor faked his death. You had to go and pretend that you hadn’t seen it and tell the younger version of the Doctor that your voice was raw because you had been coming down from a cold and not from screaming.

It was then that you had fought the Silence, monsters that erase themselves from your memory the moment you looked away. Because of them, you’d been on the run from government officials with tally marks scribbled across any empty patch of skin you could find. You could never remember what they did or even what they looked like, but you could still remember the fear.

“We can find another place.”

“No,” You sputtered while pressing your hand to the Doctor’s to stop him from continuing his search. When you realized what you had done, you ripped your hand away before he had time to comment on it. “It’s okay. We can go there.”

“Are you sure? I didn’t think you’d want to ever go back to the 60’s again,” The Doctor mentioned. “Bad memories.”

“All the more reason to make good ones, right?” You proposed. He was still wary. His hands hovered over the controls while not leaving your face. You reassured, “Really, I’ll be okay.”

“Alright,” He gave. “But you have to tell me if you feel uneasy at any time, you tell me, okay?”

“Hey Fam?”

It had been the first time the Doctor had spoken since the memory of you and Amy played out. It was the first time anyone had spoken at all, really. No one had the heart to break the loving tension of that moment by so much as even coughing. If the Doctor had her timeline correct, it was likely that this was one of the last that you and Amy had together. 

“Do you…” She licked her lips. “Do you think that maybe… you could step out for this one?”

As much as the Doctor was grateful for the silent support from her companions, this was one memory that she wished could have remained between the two of you. She already felt the swelling in her chest from her hearts furiously beating against the jail of her ribcage. Hundreds of people had impeded on this precious moment, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many of those people had bared witness and taken it for granted. Did any of them know they were watching the single most perfect moment in history?

Some might argue that there’s no such thing, and they might have been right. Time is messy, the people who reside in it even messier, and riddled with anachronisms that the Doctor had been fixing all her lives. Time can be tangled, time can be changed, time can be rewritten. In no world should there be the existence of “a perfect moment.”

Those people hadn’t seen you beneath the colored pin spots.

“Wh-” Ryan began before his voice rose with an injured cry.

“No problem, Doctor,” Yaz said. “Come on.”

The Doctor listened to their departing footsteps, and it was only until they were out of earshot did the Doctor let out a jagged breath. “You’re almost there, starshine. You’ve got this.”

Club Tredecim was nothing short of a vision of the decade. Everyone was dressed in outfits with the brashest geometric prints you’d ever seen, and their hair could have been used as a shield with the sheer amount of hairspray used. The walls were covered in concert posters and old neon signs that brightened the parts of the room that the flickering spotlights of red to yellow to green to blue didn’t. Around the dance floor was a series of tables, each with a tiny candle and a group of men elbows deep in alcohol from the nearby bar.

That was where the Doctor was situated, right between two gentlemen that looked like they might as well have been plucked out of Mad Men. You’d glance over at him now and then, just barely catching him looking away right as your head turned. You could tell he wanted to dance too, but once again, he refused and said he was more in the mood to gamble.

“Never took you as a gambling type.” You noted. 

“Oh, I gamble every day. Haven’t you noticed?” He replied. “Every adventure is a gamble, starshine!” 

“Are you implying you gamble with our lives on those adventures too?” 

“Wow, would you look at that dance floor? It’s polished so well!”

Even without the Doctor dancing with you as you had originally hoped, you were still having a wonderful time. Tipsy off musical vibrations and laughter– and maybe a few Manhattans– you spun through the spirals of cigarette smoke, throwing them off their airborne course. In time with the band in the corner, you stomped your feet on the dance floor, holding onto the skirt of the dress the TARDIS lent you. You recognized that you weren’t doing any of the dances right, but you didn’t very well care. A few people around you did, but you paid their glares no mind, even laughed in their scrunched up, irritated faces. 

The opportunity to tell the Doctor how you felt hadn’t presented itself yet, and you were slowly inching towards being there for an hour. There was only so much of the Watusi that you could do before your legs would eventually decide to tap out. 

The music dwindled out with a final sizzle. The patrons applauded while one of the band members stood and made his way to the microphone at the center of the stage. 

“And welcoming to the stage,” He smoothly spoke into the microphone. “Madam Barbara Mink in her rendition of ‘Moon River!’” 

You recognized that now was as good a moment as any. With a slow song next on the set, you could use this as an opportunity to talk to the Doctor one-on-one. You already had the perfect excuse for him, the words skating across the arch of your mouth, waiting to tip over. 

Hands behind your back and a sly- the alcohol was really kicking in- smirk playing on your lips, you shuffled towards the Doctor and the two men. A card game was sprawled out before them. You couldn’t tell who was winning or losing or even what game they were playing, but you had an idea based on the Doctor’s privy grin. You gave a polite, sweet nod to the three of them, “Gentlemen.” 

"Ah! Y/N!" The Doctor greeted while poorly shuffling the cards. "I was just teaching these fine fellows here how to play Monitrutian poker! Lovely planet, Monitruta, except if you step on some the foliage too hard, you're in for a nasty explosive surprise. Wonderful food, though!" 

One of the men stared at you with disinterest in the Doctor's ramblings, "Your friend always like this?" 

"Only sometimes," You joked. You returned your attention to the Doctor with an upturned hand, "Care to dance?" 

"Right in the middle of our game?" 

"You owe me," You quipped, your justification already planned. "Or did you forget that you pretty much refused to dance at that party with Jane?" 

You knew the Doctor didn't owe you anything in regards to that, and he probably did too. Whether or not he would mark that became moot when he placed his hand in yours. It was heavy, and in all the times he gripped yours before breaking off into a sprint, you hadn't realized that. But then, you had to give yourself some leniency. You were never focused on anything other than fleeing for your life in those situations. 

You found a spot on the dance floor that wasn't already occupied by a couple towards the center. Your hand, still in the Doctor's, was held just a little bit tighter. Only a fraction, but you felt it, right alongside the hand he gently laid on your hip. You put your free one onto the bend of his shoulder. There was a bit of room between your bodies that the other couples didn't have. Not that you were a couple. Just… a couple of people dancing. 

"You've been different lately." The Doctor said plainly once you both finally started swaying in time to the harmonica solo. It wasn't accusatory; it just was. 

“Have I?” Your response was just the same. There was no hostility, nothing playful like how you both had spoken to each other in the past. 

“You have.” 

You couldn’t say your curiosity wasn’t piqued, “How so?” 

“I’m not sure yet,” Yet. The man intended to find out. You didn’t know what that was doing to your erratically beating heart. “Just different, I suppose.” 

The silence that fell between you was painful. You knew you should’ve been jumping on the chance to talk to the Doctor, but you were struggling to find the right thing to say. It wasn’t as easy as just blurting out that you figured out you loved him. How would that even go? Poorly, definitely, without a doubt. Okay, maybe a few doubts, because you would have said something. Nobody specified that it had to be perfectly romantic! Perhaps it just had to be honest. Honest was good! You could do honest, totally! 

“So, I-” You began. 

“What do you-?” The Doctor began at the same time, just as your conviction dissipated. 

The two of you fell into a jumble of apologies, then fell back into the awkward quiet that filled the space between you. Right then, you realized that you almost liked it better when you were fighting. At least then, neither of you was ever at a loss for words. You didn’t have the time to consider the butterflies flapping their featherlight wings against your abdominal wall. 

“Why did you want to come here?” 

“I don’t know.” You said instantly, as if acting on pure reflex. 

“Well that’s not right,” The Doctor disagreed. “You always know.” 

Your neck muscles unsettlingly contracted with the speed that you looked up to him with. The Doctor knew you well enough to know that. And it made this entire dance you were doing, metaphorical and literal, all the more discouraging. What if he already knew? What if he just wanted you to say it so he didn’t make an incorrect assumption? Maybe people really could see right through you as you feared. 

You weren’t sure how to go about this. The way in which the Doctor was looking at you made your insides intertwine with each other. It made your face burn, and that heat caused it to screw into a tight-lipped grimace. Out of instinct, you took a risk and closed the few inches of distance between your body and his. You wanted to tell him the truth but didn’t think you could do that while looking directly at him. The solace of your expression being hidden from his view gave you a guise of confidence. 

“I just… I just wanted to do something. With you.” You could’ve cried with how angry you were at how you absolutely sucked at talking. That was how Amy put it, at least. 

"I see." You really hoped he did, but there was no indication on his part, not from his body language or words, that let you know for sure. 

With the two of you slipping into that mutual quiet, you took in the lyrics to ignore it. You'd heard the song before, but to hear and to listen were two different things. You basked in the sunshine-warm images of moonlight upon a water's surface and braving the unknown with someone you wholly trust. Or maybe that was just your rose-colored interpretation. When she said, "Two drifters, off to see the world, there's such a lot of world to see…" you lithely smiled at the familiarity.  

"Do you think that's us?" You asked quietly. 

The Doctor didn't have to ask what you meant; he must have been doing the same as you, "No… I don't think you're drifting at all. I don't know if that's something anyone should aspire to be." 

You were glad your face was pressed against the Doctor's shoulder so that he couldn't see your pupils dilate while you processed. Your fingers involuntarily clenched, and when you realized, you loosened your grip the tiniest bit. 

There was so much you were supposed to tell the Doctor right now, but what you wanted to say the most was that you would shoulder the burden of wandering if it meant you could wander together. You could chase the rainbow's end for as long as time would allow, and then you could find a way to deceive time so it could last as long as you liked. Only a few days into realizing your feelings and you were already thinking about the future… But then, when you've already seen the future with someone, perhaps that wasn't out of the ordinary. 

In thinking of the future, you thought of the past. You thought of all those companions the Doctor had been with before you. There were only so many of them, yet so many years in the Doctor's life. So how many of those years were spent alone? 

“Just… please don’t drift alone,” You mumbled into the fabric of his jacket. “Okay?” 

Under your palms, you could feel the Doctor’s body release every last bit of tension he harbored. You thought that the firmness of his muscles was nerves or just how he was built. You were wrong, you could see that now. The Doctor carried the weight of the lives of those yet to be saved and of those already lost. Behind all those cheeky smiles was a weary man tasked with expectations that no one should ever have to meet. For that, you didn’t mention the way he went nearly slack in your arms. And for that, a better confession could wait another day. 

Second by second, your steps slowed until you weren’t moving. For the rest of the song, until Madam Barbara Mink savored her applause in Club Tredecim, you weren’t the Doctor and his companion, off to save the day just in the nick of time once again. Beneath the flickering lights, from red to yellow to green to blue, you were just two people holding one another.

The Doctor’s fingers curled into themselves, her knuckles lightly tapping against the glass with their shakiness.

“Do we have to keep going?” You whimpered. “Can we just stay here? Please?”

“I wish we could,” The Doctor, both her past self and current, responded.

“I really…” Just the Doctor lamented with another tap, this one more forceful. She dropped her head, eyes to the floor. “I really wish that we could, starshine.”

At a sudden disembodied thumping, you flinched.

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An Artifice in Silver - Part Two

A/N - Part 1 was the angsty part of the challenge, written by @wonders-of-the-multiverse, so read that first!! It’s amazing!

Here’s my attempt to make the ending to this fic fluffy.

WARNINGS - Some death and Cyberman conversion are mentioned.

PAIRINGS: Dhawan!Master x Reader

WORD COUNT: 10,323 words

Part One | Part Two

Part Two: A Trap

It felt your though your head had only just collided with the ground when you were shaken awake. Your body been moved, swept awkwardly aside as you slept, clearing a path to the rest of the collapsed crowd from the door. Your head and limbs ached from the hard concrete of the ground, the air no longer green with smoke as you squinted to try and make out the people in the rest of the chamber.

All still human.

A few of them were moving, while others were out cold. You could only hope those nearer the epicentre of the gas being released were simply unconscious, their ragdoll bodies making you wince as they were shaken, loved ones and strangers alike desperately trying to wake them from their unnatural sleep. You could see the horror on the survivors’ faces as they picked over the group, struggling to regain movement in their own aching limbs even as that human instinct to help kicked in. Everyone looked worse for wear.

Motionless Cyber units now stood centurion around the room’s locked doors, terrifying even in their stillness. They appeared to be without instruction, frozen in place, but very much still functional. What was wrong with them? You knew the answer. Your mind drifted back to The Master.

Where the hell was he?

How could he do this to you?

To any one of these people?

A stranger filled your vision, and you felt panic surging through you instantly, heart pumping enough adrenaline to power your chemically-weakened muscles.

“You alright?”

The woman had the authority and certainty of a someone medically trained, a kindness in her eyes even through her fear. She grabbed at your shoulders, checking your vital signs, moving her hands to watch if your eyes tracked them. You groaned. It was all too much, too intense, and you tried not to see rude as you flinched away.

“I’m fine thanks,” you dismissed, peering past her.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the sheer number of people in here.

With a nod she scurried away, back to the rest of the room. They had no idea what was happening, peering up in fear at the frozen metallic claws, at the empty faces of the Cybermen.

You had been so close becoming that. Rotting flesh, trapped inside of a walking tombstone, at the whim of the hivemind which controlled these creatures. You shivered, noticing one frozen in place a few metres behind where the Master had been. They must have encroached on the halted conversion room whilst you’d been asleep, creeping in like demons in the night. Fear gripped you at the idea of those monsters stepping over your unconscious, unguarded body, preserving your form only for its use to them as a puppet.

Since you’d taken those casings apart, you’d been terrified of them. Of the fate which befell those trapped inside, stripped of their humanity. None of those people inside were any more or less worthy of life than you, no one had saved them. They were undead, beyond saving but not yet released from life.

You shuddered.

Your legs continued to shake as you clambered to your feet, tiptoeing closer to one of the Cybermen, expecting it to jump back to life any moment. One question wouldn’t leave your mind: Why were you still human?

You suspected the Master’s involvement but, from the devastation on his face as the gas descended, perhaps he hadn’t had as much influence as you’d thought. With another glance back at the door, you reminded yourself that your worst fears had been realised: he was still gone. Only a frozen monster in an otherwise empty corridor loomed back at you, still locked away by the thick doors which had separated you from him.

They must have closed again after Cybermen entered the chamber, and you knew you couldn’t open them. Cybermen were far too methodical to allow your escape.

Nothing added up. Especially that you were alive without The Master’s involvement.

Had he left on purpose? Assumed you dead? Given up on you?

You couldn’t bear to think about the worst case scenario: that he wouldn’t come back for you. Was he already running, a million lightyears away? Had the Doctor gotten to him?

Had he gotten to the Doctor?

Dwelling on your fears did nothing but make you freeze.

You needed to do something.

There were still people who needed help, you could help them.

But you couldn’t be drawn away from the door. For a sickening moment you wondered if you had imagined him, the way he trembled, begged for you to fight off the inevitable. Perhaps induced by your fear, had you imagined the one person in the universe who could comfort you?

You longed for him to come back, to tut at you for being so scared and tease you for not having a respiratory bypass system.

Instead, he was gone. You were trapped. The noise of the crowd had gradually increased again, raising to a murmur as whispers and hushed sobs of children echoed off the walls. Tones were hushed, everyone terrified of waking the machinery again. Of restarting the horror. Every movement in the room spooked people, and the crackle of an overhead announcement system made people huddle together, whispering frantically as you all anticipated a robotic voice.

‘You will be converted’ still stung fresh in your ears, that sound which had followed you, been offered as the only explanation for what was happening.

That soulless reading of a death sentence still loomed over everyone trapped here.

You tried to stand strong in your position – if nothing else you could be a barrier between the crowd and whatever came through this door – even as freshly-dried tears made your eyes ache.

When a Yorkshire lilt called your name through the speakers, and you smiled.

“Here!”

The group of people backed away from you, watching with equal fear and curiosity as you desperately shouted up to the ceiling, hoping she could hear you.

“I can open one of the doors for a moment, need a power surge and an external battery, it’s a whole thing. Can you see me?”

You scanned the perimeter of the conversion chamber, and spotted movement on the far side of the room. A few of the crowd moved to let you through, whispering, and you could have cried with relief. Her mane of blonde hair was visible through the clear panel of a door, and she waved to you manically as you jogged over it. It was a harsh contrast to how you’d spotted The Master. This time, your relief was warranted.

Unable to hear her, you relied on trying to understand how she pointed frantically to the ground at your feet, before crouching as the played with wires sticking out of something which looked suspiciously-bomb-like. You mirrored her pose, hidden from each other, now below the glass of the window.

You could hear muttering behind you, the shudder of your own breath, as you waited.

There was no rejecting the Doctor’s help now, no matter where your loyalties or personal grievances lay. With the Master gone, she was your only way out.

You had to trust her.

With a gut-wrenching clang the door suddenly shuddered and rose upwards. The thick metal looked too heavy to stop if it fell, but you just held your breath and rolled underneath, trusting her yelled command of:

“Quick!”

She scrambled to pull you clear of the door as it slammed closed like the heavy drop of a guillotine blade, making you cry out as it shook the ground. You had barely made it. That impact would have been fatal.

“Doctor!”

She was already stood, hands on hips. You found yourself left shaking on the ground. She was already on to the next problem.

“I hope that didn’t rewake the system.” She mused as she picked at the smoldering wires, seemingly unaffected by your near-death experience.

You were panting, staring at her in shock. While you’d realised a long time ago that she wasn’t any more careful with your wellbeing than the Master, you couldn’t believe her complete nonchalance. Were The Master in her shoes he would be dragging you back to his TARDIS, apologising for putting you in the situation, his bravado stripped the second he’d seen your wellbeing at stake. He’d be all gentle hands and mumbled reassurance, fury at every single person responsible for the construction of the machinery which had scared you so much.

The memory of his face through the door of the conversion room made your chest hurt, your eyes sting, and you knew he’d never forgive himself for being so reckless. For putting you at risk.

When you looked up, expecting a concerned look at the minimum, you saw the Timelord’s spot vacated. A rat’s nest of wires were the only indication she’d even been beside you. The Doctor was already walking away, shoes clicking on the metallic floor of yet another identical corridor. The Cybermen here were still too, making you hug yourself and run to keep up with her.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” he ground out.

The Doctor couldn’t stand not knowing. She consulted her sonic screwdriver with a scrunched-up face, holding it to her ear, scanning one of the stationary suits as you finally caught up.

“Where’s the Master?” You demanded.

“What?”

“The Master.”

Her face turned dark, and she scowled.

“Of course he’s involved in all this. I should have known. Right, um…”

With another wave and buzz of the sonic screwdriver, she scowled at the result, then at you.

“Got him.”

Perhaps you shouldn’t have told her that he was here. Would it put him at risk? Would it put her at risk? You couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty. They would have met eventually, dragged together like unwilling magnets. They always converged eventually. And you really needed to see him.

The Doctor took off running, backtracking occasionally as she followed the trace of him the sonic had picked up. You tried in vain to remember these featureless corridors, should you need to navigate back alone. It wouldn’t work. This facility was endless, an economically designed rabbit warren marked with ruthlessly minimal symbols which you couldn’t discern meaning from.

You wouldn’t be able to get out of here alone.

You spared a thought for the poor souls still trapped in the room you’d escaped, cowering under those metal claws and eyeless Cybermen, herded here like trembling sheep.

As you ran after the blonde Timelord the corridor suddenly opened to a large hangar-style door, like the hotwired one you had barely made it under. Seeing the metal above you made you shutter and halt at the threshold, but adrenaline forced you onwards. You cared more about what was inside, who was inside.

You could see him. Hunched over a computer, Cybermen shrunken at his feet like dolls, the Master was in a state of mania as he ripped the room apart.

Seeing him The Doctor gasped and tugged you around a corner and out of view of the room. You went to whisper a protest, but found her lean hand clapped over your mouth, barely touching but enough to stop you giving away her hiding spot.

“Just trust me,” she insisted. “Stay here.”

She grabbed your hand, squeezing it as though you might be less inclined to follow her somehow.

You couldn’t. Despite everything, you felt the draw of the Master, and she tugged your arm to hold you from straying too close to him as you peeked around the corner, just watching him.

His booming voice was unmistakable as he shouted into the room, but his face was hidden from you. The control room of the underground building was sparking and torn apart in places, The Master’s precise tapping of computer keys was interspersed with the ruthless smashing of server racks as he threw them to the ground, scattering the technology. His dismantling of the room was equal parts strategic and uncontrolled destruction, and you worried for the blood seeping from his knuckles and forearms, his jacket strewn aside and sleeves rolled up.

As he took another break from the computer system to punch at a glass pane, you couldn’t let him hurt himself anymore. You surged forward from your hiding spot, feeling the Doctor trying to hold you back. Adrenaline and happiness to see him was all which powered your body.

Calling to him, you imagined his excitement at realising you were alive. Maybe he’d stop smashing. Take you to safety.

“MAST–”

The Doctor grabbed you around the waist, pulling you against her body, muting you with a single hand clamped vice-tight over your mouth. For a moment the pair of you waited in silence, shocked by each other’s actions in equal measure.  

“I don’t know what he’s done to you, but you need to stay away from him.”

Her accent grew stronger as she whispered, and you frowned. Her hand allowed you to breathe through your nose, but was tight around your jaw, her grip as strong as the Master’s.

“This is between us. You need to go back to the TARDIS.”

Not her TARDIS, you were sure of that.

You grunted into her hand, making her yell in pain as you bit down on the flesh of her palm, wriggling to get free. It didn’t even matter who she was: you refused to be manhandled. Your eyes flashed to the corridor, hoping The Master had noticed you, run to your rescue.

No footsteps came.

With a sigh, her hands found your temple, and your body weakened.

“I’m sorry, it’s a dirty trick. He’s done worse, I’m certain.”

You wanted to cry when you realised she was right. But not for the reasons she thought.

Her TARDIS was a mere few-minutes’ walk from where the pair of you had hidden, and she half-carried you the whole way, her mouth set in a grim line which terrified you more than any time the Master had ever shouted around you. You wanted to struggle, to fight her, but your body was too weakened to do anything.

You couldn’t even cry out, forced into obeying her, muscles made limp by her touch on your mind.

Setting you on the ground in the console room, she finally uncovered your mouth and dashed to the doors, calling back to you. As quickly as you had lost it, you suddenly you regained your strength, able to run at her.

“Stay in here.”

“DOCTOR!”

She darted out of the time ship just in time to escape your fury.

The TARDIS doors slammed closed, locking in an instant as you rushed to try and tug them open. It was no use, your whole body weight against the wood couldn’t move those doors.

You looked up at the ceiling of the sentient ship, hoping she might take your side, only to be met with the gentle hum of the time rotor.

“I need to get out,” you begged. “Please!”

Your exit remained barred.

A blue-tinged screen on the console flickered to life, and you left your post by the doors to peer at it. You could hear muffled voices outside, the screen showing a mute overhead view of the Doctor and her best enemy.  

“Please,” you whispered to her, stroking the console. You hoped she was like the Timelords who piloted her, using the touch to tune into your heart. “Let me talk to them.”

There was static, then a click, and you rushed back to the doors. They were still locked.

As you spun to the console in confusion, two familiar voices echoed through the ship’s speakers.

“Is she in there?”

It was him, voice desperate, demanding. The Master.

“No.”

The Doctor was a weak liar at times. He’d see through her. You pounded your fists at the translucent glass of the doors, then held one palm flat against it, begging him to notice you.

He did.

“Doctor!” He taunted. “You lied to me!”

“Stay away from her.”

Glancing back at the monitor, you could see how the Doctor’s body blocked his access to the door, positioning herself between the two of them.

“She wants to see me.”

“She doesn’t.”

You wanted to scream, object as The Doctor stood cross-armed guard between him and the ship. Your words couldn’t permeate the doors.

“Is she okay?”

The feed showed how his attire was destroyed in places, how he slumped, and something else too…

“You’re crying!” The Doctor declared, shock clear in her voice.

The Master didn’t hesitate, taking a long stride towards her, making The Doctor jut her chin out.

“Is she ALIVE?”

You didn’t need the audio feed to hear his yell, and you could see how the blonde Timelord recoiled.

“Obviously!”

He relaxed a little, taking back control, but you could still see how anger dripped off him. His words escaped him as a growl – frustration and fear a melting pot in his voice.

“You have no idea what could be in that stuff she breathed. You haven’t even checked her over, Doctor.”

“Oh, as if you actually care.”

One of them would snap, the Master’s snarling voice met with a harsh laugh from the other Timelord. One of them would just throttle the other, pull the TCE or a gun from some deep recesses of their pockets, or snap the others’ neck. One of them would survive, pulling you into their arms over the broken body of the other.

You couldn’t bear it. Tension seeped through the doors, through the silence of the TARDIS speakers and the bluelight of the screen.

“I care so much it frightens me. Can you imagine that, Doctor? That it scares me?”

He got closer to her face, almost spitting from anger.

“You’re lying,” she growled.

“I destroyed the Cyberium.”

In the grainy monitor you saw her take pause, inspecting his face for a moment, like she’d be able to see whether the Cyberium had left him from nothing but his panting and the whites of his eyes.

You’d heard about it in vague terms, the Cyber AI which he’d absorbed. You’d seen how he avoided the species like the plague as you travelled, the way he fought with it inside his own head sometimes.

Even when it seemed to cause him unbearable pain, he’d promised you it wasn’t that bad. Only in the quiet moments, when he thought you couldn’t see, did you catching him muttering to himself with his eyes pressed shut.

“You what?”

The Doctor looked disbelieving.

“I followed it. I obeyed it, helped it, and this is how it rewarded me. So I killed it.”

Speechless, The Doctor just stared at him.

“I’ll give you the command codes if you like, just let me take her. Please.”

“Have you hypnotized her?”

The Doctor’s new line of attack made you wince, spitting out her words like poison. The Master held his hands up in a surrender, a small silver box tucked under one thumb.

“No. I swear.”

“Let me talk to her first.”

For a moment, the Master seemed to look straight through the monitor, directly at you, and you swore he could tell you were watching. You moved closer to the screen, arms folded nervously as his eyes flickered back to the Doctor.

“Have it your way. I’ll be in the ship’s command room.” He turned to walk away, but you heard his voice still, steady through the speakers. “If you dematerialise, Doctor, I will hunt you down. And everyone left here will die.”

He marched off and you watched on the monitor as he left, longing to run to him as much as you wanted to kill him. The Doctor’s image paused for a moment, and you could see her pacing outside the TARDIS doors. Distracted by the live feed, you jumped when the doors finally banged open. The screen went black, and you silently thanked the ship for being on your side.

“Let me go.”

You told her firmly as she trudged towards the console, playing with one of the instruments like she was toying with just piloting the ship away.

“I will.”

The pair of you stood in silence for a moment, and you longed to say more, but what else was there to say?

“Is there any way I can convince you to stay away from him?”

You were already looking at the door, wondering if you could remember the route back to the smashed control room alone. The Doctor walked towards you, hands awkwardly behind her back, and you felt a pang of longing for what could have been if she was a little more honest, a little more open.

Her voice was desperate, soft, and it made your heart ache for the happier times you’d spent together. Before the pain which surged back and forth between you, the harsh words and the abandonment. You’d hurt each other irreparably. You couldn’t be happy with her and the fam. They would never be enough.

Despite everything, though, you didn’t want to hate her.

“I’ll always remember the adventures we had together,” you promised her.

So much had gone unsaid earlier, in your anger at her for dropping by unannounced and whisking you away like she still had a guarantee you wanted to travel with her. Facing the realisation that this really might be it, you wanted to hug her.

It was strange, wanting to leave her, and yet being so devasted about it.

“What is he, to you?”

She looked afraid to ask it, and you were sure she wouldn’t like your answer. With a sigh, you saw no sense in lying to her.

“I think I love him.”

The drop of her face was enough to confirm it, that there was no getting out of this without hurting someone.

“No mind control,” you promised.

“You can still stay. He’s dangerous.”

Her words were half-hearted. She knew your choice. You shook your head, and she finally left her comfortable spot, rounding the physical barrier of the console so there was only a few feet separating you.

“I know.”

For the first time since you’d known her, she hugged you, awkward and all misplaced limbs. You accepted it, hugging her tightly back. Her face was hidden from you, and you held her as long as she’d let you, hoping you were imagining the ragged breaths which caught in her throat.

“Will he look after you?”

“I think so.”

She nodded against your shoulder, letting you go.

“Thank you, for everything.”

You meant it. For the adventures, for the chance to get more from life than Earth could give you, for the friendships you’d shared with the fam, and for the chance to meet him.

Perhaps she already regretted that last gift.

“Let’s get going, then!”

Her chipper tone was mismatched for the somber mood as you stroked the console goodbye one last time, mumbling your gratitude to the impossible, ancient ship which had first shown you the beauty and terror of this universe. The Doctor strode out the door like this was any other adventure, and you almost expect to be met with the surface of an unknown planet, just one more time.

She led you through the corridors in silence, and you still shivered at the Cybermen as you passed them, recalling the horror concealed inside these metal soldiers.

With a quick instruction to wait for her, The Doctor darted off to check a rack of servers. This was it. Her easy out. She knew you wouldn’t wait.

You kept walking, unexpectedly recognising where you were. He wouldn’t be concealing anything in the corner of a cramped storage room. He would be at the heart of the ship. Waiting for you.

You were right. The doors to the control room hissed open as you approached, revealing him stood in the center of the room. He’d cleaned up, put his jacket back on, brushed his disheveled hair back and lost that snarling, wild-animal demeanor he had been overcome by outside the conversion room, and while he’d spoken to the Doctor. Like the best of his disguises, composure covered his true feelings as he waited for the pair of you, distain on his face and his hands casually strewn in a trouser and jacket pocket.

When he saw you approach alone his performatively curled lip dropped, face slackening as he rushed towards you, open concern on his face. When you didn’t reach out to embrace him, and he stopped, deflated a few feet from you. He tried to lighten the mood, his features picking up into an unnatural smile.

“I told you I’d get you out!”

“You didn’t.” You told him flatly.

He reached for you, and you crossed your arms over yourself, resisting his offer of affection. You wouldn’t go back to him without an apology, if you could help it.

“You left me there.”

“You’re here, you’re…”

He trailed off at the Doctor’s appearance, barging flustered into the room, muttering that she’d ‘told you to wait’. At her entrance the Master wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you tightly to him. You tried to get away, and he wouldn’t release you.

This was a show, meant only to remind the Doctor her friend had chosen him over her, and you hated it. You didn’t want to help him hurt her.

“Don’t touch me.”

He ignored your snarl. You kicked at his foot, and he broke his grip, allowing you to retreat from the two Timelords.

“Lover’s tiff,” he smiled apologetically to The Doctor, reaching out his hand for yours.

When you retreated further away from him again, he froze. He offered his palms up apologetically, and you noticed they were still littered with cuts, some particularly brutal looking. You suspected the smashed-up control room around you could answer for that. He caught you staring, open horror on your face, and shoved them in his trouser pockets.

“It’s okay,” The Doctor’s Yorkshire lilt tried to settle you, and she approached you from the other side like a scared animal. You recoiled from her too, and the Master stepped in front of you.

“You brought her here!” He scoffed to the other Time Lord. “Don’t pretend you’re any better than me!”

The Doctor was acting like the hero, as usual, treating The Master like a teacher calming a mid-meltdown child. Her soft voice and outstretched palms didn’t seem quite so sincere, on the receiving end. You could understand The Master’s anger, as her gentle voice tried to placate him.

“I brought you what you want, we can trade.”

Suddenly, pieces clicked together.

“You said you didn’t know the Master was here,” you frowned.

“Did I?”

You turned on her.

“This was on purpose. You brought me here on purpose?”

From the drop of her jaw, you could read that you were right. At least a little bit. You felt your throat tighten with tears. The Master growled.

“How dare you drag her into this!”

“What? Into your plan?” You caught yourself getting hysterical, but you didn’t care. The Timelords glanced at each other, herding you back towards the glass projection which covered the entire back wall.

“You were supposed to be on Earth! If you had stayed, like I told you –”

Under your glare, he fell silent.

The Doctor, ever playing at being a peacekeeper, tried to step closer to you, only to be matched by the Master. You had nowhere left to go, backed against the dark glass wall of the bunker as they looked between you and each other.

“Doctor, did you… know the Master was here.”

“Yes.”

She had the decency to sound remorseful. You thought back on when you first landed, how quickly you’d lost her, been swept up in the horde of people shepherded towards the conversion chamber. You remembered how you’d feared for your life, the heartbreak on the Master’s face as he’d almost watched you experience a fate worse than death.

How she’d suddenly decided she should have a heart-to-heart with you, the second the Master left you on earth.

“You used me.”

They played this game, and you were a pawn in it. She’d brought you were, let you follow her out of the TARDIS, to play with the Master. Just so she could be the savior, and he could play at matching all of her light with his dark.

“Give me the codes, and this can all end,” she spoke to the Master, refusing to relinquish any of her control as the two of them trapped you. “I’ll let you leave. Everyone downstairs lives. The Cybers get destroyed.”

“You’re monsters,” you whispered.

The two Timelords glanced at each other, not meeting your eye.

“Darling… ” The Master began. You cut him off.

“Don’t.”

“The Cyberium in my head, it was too much. I couldn’t handle it, and if I did this, I could find a way to get it out. I needed their technology, their trust. I’m sorry, love.”

You winced at the pet name. He’d called you that in bed, once, and you’d felt like the happiest person in the universe. You couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“I hope it was worth it.”

Even The Doctor wasn’t speaking. You glanced at her, trying to read anything but shock on from her expression. Following your eyeline, the Master seemed to jolt at the recollection she was even there. Both of you startled as he shoved a hand into the inside of his waistcoat, rummaging.

He threw a small silver communicator underhand to The Doctor, and she barely caught it, inspecting it with unguarded horror.

“Take this. You can dismantle the conversion facility with it, get the people downstairs out.”

She was already at the computer console, sneaking wary glances at the pair of you as her hands flew across the keys, computers still a little scorched from The Master’s earlier go at them. With the second Time Lord out of the picture, The Master turned to you.

“I was destroying this place. For what they did to you.”

“Why did you leave me?” you demanded, “down there?”

“I had to be here, to stop the gas, to freeze the hivemind. I’d already destroyed the Cyberium, I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t in control.”

You wanted to believe him so badly, the pain in his eyes seemed so real, and he held eye contact with you like you’d never seen before.

“She was never meant to bring you were. I swear, I’ll kill every one of them myself if I have to.”

“Those people down there, they’re just like me. You were going to kill them?”

“They’re not you–”

“Believe it or not Master, I’m human. I’m the same as them. I know you hate it, but I’m the same as them.”

“You’re not–”

“I am! And you were willing to let them die.”

The tremble of his hand as he reached for your cheek gave away his fear, and you recoiled, wincing as your head collided with the hard glossy wall. The Master flinched too, dropping his hand.

“Think how many would have died if the Cyberium had taken over my mind. Taken my ship. Had you.”

The timeline was confusing. Upsetting. Too much to think about. You frowned as you tried to think about it.

“That’s why you dropped me home.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t let you see me losing control like that. I thought I could come back when it was all over, if I could get my mind back.”

The Doctor was working noisily, and an alarm started going off as she hacked further and further into the base’s system. Outside, you heard a ringing as a Cyberman crumpled to the ground.

“We need to leave.”

As angry as you were, you nodded quickly, letting him guide you out of the room. As you passed, the Doctor called your name.

“It was the only way, I’m sorry. I had to show him what he was doing…”

Her face was truly devastated, for the brief glimpse of it you caught, but you couldn’t forgive her. The Master’s arm found your waist, guiding you away from her quickly, and you let him.

Betrayal had rooted deep in your gut, making you want to nauseous as you looked at her face. All your history together, and she had knowingly dumped you in the middle of a crowd to be converted into Cybermen. Just to hurt The Master.

You saw those blank creatures, their masks hiding the faces of real people, who had loved and been loved, had dreams and wants and needs.

She’d told you it was the worst thing she could imagine. That she’d lost friends to that cruel death and would never risk losing another. At the time your heart had ached for her, for the suffering she had been through, her only crime trying to do the right thing. Apparently she didn’t consider you a friend anymore.

The screeching of collapsing metal ricocheted off the bare corridors, and the Master moved the two of you faster.

You screamed as a Cyberman moved beside you, an electrical twitch before it collapsed to the ground in a pile of loose metal, and the Master’s arm tightened around your waist even more protectively.

You couldn’t move. Your feet were stuck to the ground as you saw the unnatural way the creature fell, the skeleton inside so decomposed the usual flexibility limits of a human body were far exceeded.

Almost pulling you over with his momentum, the Master stopped beside you. He followed your stare towards the horrific sight beside you, and made a noise of discontent in the back of his throat. With a gentle hand he guided your head away until you couldn’t see the creature anymore and the vision was replaced with his face.

“I’m sorry.”

Against your better judgement, and despite everything you’d been through, you hugged him. In the corridor as the base started to crumple around you, you couldn’t help unravelling at his touch, his head against yours as he pulled you tightly against him, feeling tears welling up in your eyes as you pressed your face to his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“No.”

Deep red lights illuminated the corridors around you, and you felt his sharp inhale of fear.

“Talk later. We need to run. Now.”

The Master struggled to navigate the corridors, swearing to himself each time he reached a junction, and dragging you in the right direction after a moment of panicked, hitting-his-own-head thought. It brought you some small measure of comfort, in the midst of this horrifying day, that he couldn’t have been here long.

Lungs aching, you fought to keep up with him. Even the Master was stumbling, unused to running for this length of time, and he shot you looks of concern as your human body needed to wheeze for breath. The collapsed bodies of Cybermen and the screaming of alarms were enough to keep you moving as the very structure itself rumbled. The burning pain in your muscles could wait.

You noticed the Master cursing up at the ceiling level above, where the Doctor still resided, muttering. What was she doing?

Finally you let yourself slow at the sight of his ridiculous outback shack. It was completely out of place and blocking a walkway. That stupid ship. You loved it.

It was facing the wrong way, and you had to use the back porch steps to clamber up onto the structure, faltering as the comfort of being near the machine finally let your adrenaline crash. He half-dragged you to keep up as you both rounded the veranda, throwing the doors open and firmly pulling you inside. He rushed to the console as the rumbling of breaking concrete and collapsing earth followed you into the ship, and you didn’t have the heart to care about the destruction happening outside.

The Doctor could handle the people who were trapped. She always did, their savior no matter the cost.

The moment the TARDIS’ doors closed, you fell into that old rickety sofa, and sobbed.

The Master piloted in silence, and once the murmur of the ship engines had stopped, he paced towards you awkwardly. He crouched to sit himself on the low table opposite your curled form, clasped his hands, and bowed his head. He let you cry yourself out, staring out as the windows at the vortex – empty and filled with flashes of colour all at the same time.

After a while he left, coming back with water and tissues, and you took them gratefully.

A few sips of water left you with enough voice to speak, albeit tremblingly, as he watched you worriedly.

“Do you think the bunker collapsed? After we left?”

“Probably. I think she got them out though. The computers could open the doors to the surface.”

“Good,” you said firmly.

“Good that they got out, or that the building collapsed?”

“Both.”

He chuckled, pulling your clenched hand away from your face. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, keeping them held to his lips. His hands were warm against your fingers as he held them, leant forwards with his elbows resting on his knees, lips surprisingly soft.

You knew he could check the fate of the bunker collapse. Future archeologists would have found it, if no one at the time recorded its outcome. But you didn’t particularly care for the truth. This ending was nicer.

Even after you fidgeted, trying to get more comfortable with him holding your hand away from you, he didn’t let go. You noticed the marring on his hands, already scabbing a little, and turned onto your side to touch the wounds.

“Do these hurt?”

“A little. They’ll heal up with some sleep, though.”

You laughed hollowly. Of course, a nap could heal wounds which you would need stitches for. He smiled sadly against your lips.

“Did you get hurt, at all? I was worried about the gas.”

“I’m a bit bruised, but I’ll be fine.”

The fall and the running made your muscles ache, but the main hurt wasn’t physical.

She’d betrayed you.

“She asked me to leave with her.”

He bowed his head, lips moving against your knuckles as he spoke.

“You said no?”

“Duh.”

He smiled.

“Thank you.”

You shrugged, not totally forgiving of him yet either. The energy had left you to fight. All you wanted was a bit of peace, convalescence before this inevitable game started again. The reckless travel, fighting over how much damage to cause, and the sex he didn’t care about.

How much longer could the two of you keep this up?

You wondered if you’d ever regret the decision to stay with him. When death stared you in the face again? The next time he forgot how human you were? At the pull of the TCE’s trigger, as he killed someone without a second thought?

Maybe then the Doctor’s different-but-equally-grey morals might seem more appealing.

Perhaps if you’d begged her to let you rejoin the ‘fam’, the Doctor might not have used you as a bargaining chip.

“When I saw you through that window… I realised you mean more to me. More than I’d ever expected.”

The admission would have made you swoon, on another day, but you just threw your head back against the wicker armrest, emotionally exhausted.

“I mean it.”

He was watching you for a reaction, and you rolled your head to face him.

His eyebrows drew together in a frown.

“You must be shattered, love.”

You could only nod, and he dropped his forehead to the hand he was clutching, a silent apology.

“What can I do to help? I need you to tell me. I’ve been alone too long, and I’m not good at this stuff –”

His breath was hot against the skin of your hand. It made you shiver.

“I just want a shower. And to sleep. We can talk in the morning I just… I’ve had a long day.”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t a surprise to you, his capacity for tenderness, but you hadn’t seen it this exposed, this prolonged, before. He seemed to move a little easier than he had in the last few weeks, his mind not drifting so far from where it ought to be tethered.

You wondered if he’d ever tell you how badly the Cyberium had affected him.

“Sorry.”

Maybe he knew what your apology was for, maybe he didn’t. Nonetheless he shook his head, helping you up, his hands held out in a silent offer for support walking should you need it. You took your own steps, legs trembling a little from overexertion as you walked alongside him towards the corridor which housed both of your rooms.

“Wait a second,” he murmured, leaving you so he could check a screen, humming at whatever he saw.

Like he’d never left, he was back, arm held out for you to take. You laid a hand across his elbow lightly, not to lean on him, but to be near him.

“What was that?”

“Just checking you’re okay.”

At your puzzled look, he continued, tone dismissive.

“The TARDIS checks your vital signs. That green gas was nasty, unknown, I just wanted to check it didn’t need any immediate attention. Seems like it just knocked you out. How are your muscles feeling?”

“Exhausted, obviously. I think I’ll ache tomorrow.”

He hummed in agreement as you reached your door, surprising you when he opened it for you and followed you inside.

“High lactic acid. Blood-oxygen’s a touch lower than I’d like, too.”

You frowned.

“Do you really measure all that stuff on me?”

“Is it creepy? I hoped it wasn’t. I just… it’s not exactly intrusive, better than a checkup or whatever. It lets me know you’re not about to drop down dead.”

He moved around your room as he spoke, collecting pajamas and your hairbrush, various other bits and bobs you might need in an overnight bag. When he caught you watching him, confused, he walked back to the door. Your possessions were bundled against his chest, secured by one of his hands.

“Come use my bath. There’s some soaks that should help you recover.”

The shake in your legs wasn’t just from the running as you crossed the corridor, surprised by the realisation his door appeared to be unlocked. It was barely six feet from the entrance to your room, but you’d never seen this door open.

You had assumed his room was always locked. When he was in there, absent from the rest of the ship, it meant he wanted to be left strictly alone. Going inside, even with his hand guiding you, felt forbidden.

He’d always fucked you in your room. It was easier for him that way. It allowed him to leave the second he was done, if he wanted to. Even when the pair of you got more comfortable, laying together, spending more time intertwined just reading or watching movies, his space was off limits.

He didn’t miss the way you halted at the threshold, looking around at the curiously designed space. The furniture didn’t match the room, you noticed. Colourless walls were contrasted with a regal four-poster, antique bookshelves stretched high towards an iridescent crystalline ceiling, futuristic inlaid lights illuminated the messiness of a hand-carved oak desk.

Old and new clashed, everything regal and big, but barely filling the oversized space.

“It’s a bit weird,” he conceded, “you can stick to your room if you like.”

“No, no its fine. Just not what I expected.”

He set your things on the bed, and you picked over the sweats he’d brought, clutching them to your chest.

“What did you expect?” he grinned.

“I don’t know. Versailles? Or some kind of BDSM torture chamber?”

With a laugh he appraised the room, biting his lip in amusement.

“Are you disappointed?”

You found yourself grinning too, as he shucked off his coat and lay it over the desk chair.

“A little.”

The newly formed tension between you had felt like a lead weight, and you only realised when it was broken. You bounced on your heels as much as your injured muscles allowed, and let him lead you to the bathroom.

“Don’t change yet, I’ll just grab some shower stuff!”

More classic, the bathroom was all marble, the space dominated by an oversized claw-foot tub. For a moment you realised the pair of you could fit in there comfortably, before brushing the thought away. Exhaustion was making you hazy already. You’d just fall asleep.

Plus, you remembered, you were mad at him.

Ignoring his warning you started to strip off, left in just your underwear by the time he appeared in the doorway with an ‘oh!’

“Its fine. Nothing you haven’t seen before,” you pointed out.

He still looked sheepish.

“Rub this on anywhere that hurts before you get in the water, should stop any inflammation and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Help?”

You were too tired to navigate the pain mapped all across your body alone, and you didn’t want to be without company. The screams of the child who’d lost a mother, of the people who’d seen that gas descending, the slamming of the door you’d barely rolled under, they’d all find your ears again as ghosts the moment you were without distraction.

Without you stripping off any further, the pair of you managed to apply the chalky substance all over your body, the honey-sweet smell filling the air as his hands cautiously rubbed it across your muscles. You were more slapdash with your own application, and he quietly returned to spots you’d missed, making sure you wouldn’t ache. His attention to your muscles was so tender and careful, you had to keep talking, just to stop yourself choking up.

“I could have used this on the Doctor’s TARDIS!” you had tried to joke.

The other Timelord was far more fond of running, and you’d woken up countless mornings in agony, even as the fun of the day before electrified the atmosphere in her ship.

The Master stayed silent.

On many levels, you felt you understood him a little better now. It had hurt, to be betrayed by her, but you had something in common now.

“Did it hurt to leave her?” he whispered.

The Master’s eyes were on your calf as he kneaded the substance into your skin, but his hands froze at your momentary silence.

“Yeah. It did. Before I realised what she’d done, at least.”

He nodded silently, swallowing. The pair of you froze as you finally put the glass jar down, accepting that this excuse to be together was done. His hands left your skin and he walked to the sink awkwardly, washing his hands in silence.

He didn’t leave, leaning against the counter and watching you.

“Give me a shout if you need me, okay?”

You smiled, suddenly shy, barely recognising the man in front of you.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll be just outside.”

Finally, he left. He closed the door with a click, and instantly you felt like an intruder, left alone in his bathroom. It was tidy, but everywhere were reminders it was his space. Aside from your clothes folded messily on the counter, there was only his things. A matte black range of branded products scattered the room, lined up by his toothbrush, on a built-in shelf of the shower. You wanted to investigate them, smell them. See which of them were responsible for the smell you associated with him.

The tub of hair clay by the sink had the lid slightly ajar, and it made you smile as you corrected it. He must have gotten ready in a rush. It was strange, that he’d even wanted you in here, but you hoped it was some step towards real closeness. There was still so much to say, but that was easy to forget when he was there, caring for you.

You’d only left the Doctor because you could see a future with him – something she couldn’t offer you, surrounded by carelessness and lies and three other companions. The Master could offer you more. You could almost picture your own toothbrush, stood up next to his.

You stripped off your underwear and left it on the countertop, foregoing the tub for the alluring waterfall shower in the corner of the room. It was easily big enough for four people, all natural-cut stone with a simple pair of dials to control it. Beautiful, and completely to the Master’s taste.

Before you had touched anything the TARDIS started the water, a slow trickle turning into a warm sheet of water which made you sigh at the sensation of being underneath it.

“Thanks, dear,” you mimicked how he spoke to the ship, and she flickered the lights in return.

It was heaven, to finally have every remaining atom of that base, that conversion room, those corridors, swept off your skin.

The products you reached for all smelt faintly like him – a matching suite of mildly citrus-scented body wash and hair products. Exhaustion and the smell made you feel dazed as you rubbed the chalky healing substance off your body. The smell of him made you feel somehow guilty as you tried to clean the sweat and grime from your hair and your face. His senses were so attuned, you wondered if it would freak him out. Or whether he’d like it, to have you smelling of him. Like a claim.

If he was still outside the unlocked door the thundering of the water hid any noise he made. You rolled your shoulders and turned the heat up, letting the heaviness of the water rush over you, waiting for this day to make sense.

You had no idea how long you stood there lost in thought. The Master’s voice dragged you back to reality, calling your name worriedly through the door with a rap of his knuckles against the wood.

“Are you okay?”

“All good!”

Calling back, you quickly rinsed your hair before shutting the water off, suddenly driven back to motion by his concern. Back in your early days together he’d often overestimated how much humans could withstand, lamenting the ‘wasted’ hours of sleep you wanted, or the frequency with which you had to eat. He’d gotten better recently. He was aware of how exhaustion affected you, appreciated that you couldn’t walk or run forever. It had amused you when he started carrying food and even occasionally arranging places for you to stay overnight, should your travels require it.

On a fundamental level, he had started caring for you more.

The Master had never gone to this extent, though. Or perhaps you had never needed his care as much. The scans his ship seemed to run on you proved he’d at least been checking your body was okay all this time.

Maybe he’d always just checked your health and opted to let you heal alone, before today.

A deep burgundy towel hung on a heated rail beside the shower and you grabbed it, careful not to slip as you wrapped the material around you. It was oversized, thick and soft, and you couldn’t help the jolt when you felt the warmth of it on your bare skin and remembered it was his.

Even though he’d been inside of you, gotten to know you, you’d never been allowed to know him back. Not really. This felt like a start.

You had to brush the thought aside, drying your hair as best you could without a hairdryer, pulling on pajamas and leaving the wet towel back where you found it for the ship to deal with. It took a moment, and a deep breath, for you to finally emerge from the steam-filled room.

The Master was sat on his bed, reading some book from his collection which was quickly strewn onto his desk as you approached.

“Better?”

“Yeah, thanks. I think I’ll still ache tomorrow.”

He looked a little sheepish.

“Hopefully not. That stuff’s pretty good, usually.”

You stood uncomfortably for a moment, waiting for some cue from him on where to go from here. He turned down the bed, silently pulling the covers aside for you to climb in. Then he looked at you expectantly, as if you were obviously supposed to just clamber into his bed. You were surprised, but all too grateful for the comfort.

“Really?”

He left your question unanswered. You settled beneath the sheets, and The Master watched you as he tried to figure out what to do next.

“Do you want me to…”

He was mid-thought, it seemed, asking you if he should leave his own bedroom. You spoke over him.

“Can you stay with me? Just for tonight. We’ll forget it ever happened tomorrow if you want.”

He faltered, still watching you curiously. You wondered what his plan had been, if not to stay with you.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see those fucking metal claws, the insides of those creatures, I –”

Without a word he stripped off his jacket, boots and waistcoat.

“I just need a shower. Give me five minutes.”

You nodded, wrapping the covers around you and trying to get comfortable. You’d never had ‘sides of the bed’ - he’d never stayed long enough to designate those - but you couldn’t shake the feeling you were in the wrong place.

It was stupid. To be having casual sex with the man, to trust him with your life, and not even feel entitled to be sleeping in his bed.

Something had to change.

The Master was barely gone two minutes, emerging from his shower with a towel slung around his hips. He rummaged through his wardrobe before tugging free a pair of checkered pajama trousers, glancing to check you were still there before silently returning to the bathroom to change. You looked away at his half-nakedness, hoping he hadn’t noticed your breath hitch.

The two of you were a mess.

His awkwardness didn’t escape you as he rounded the bed, shirtless and with wet hair.

He climbed in beside you, careful not to touch you, and you tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, letting him pull the covers over himself and refusing to let your bodies roll together, even as the mattress gave. To your surprise, he lay out to mirror you, on his side behind you.

If not to the distance between your bodies, he could be chest to chest with you.

“Comfy?”

You nodded against the pillow, hands self-consciously tucked away in front of you. You could feel it when he spoke, the whisper of his breath on your neck. His head rested inches behind yours, intimate even as the pair of you didn’t touch.

“You smell nice,” he mumbled, nose close to your freshly-washed hair.

You laughed.

“I smell like you, of course you like it!”

That got a chuckle out of him, and you could feel how his body moved the mattress as he exhaled.

“Are you cold? Your hair’s still wet.”

You shrugged, and he brought his arm around you, resting it on you without pulling you in. He made a noise of contentment as you shuffled closer into him, letting him hold you more easily.

With a gulp, you hoped his closeness to you would stop him from recoiling at your question.

“Before you dropped me off… when I fell asleep…”

“I’m sorry.”

Oh.

“So, you did do it.”

“You wouldn’t leave otherwise. It is not safe for humans around Cybermen,” he trailed off.

The question you wanted answered was obvious, hanging in the air, making you tense.

“Its not okay, to mess with people’s heads like that,” you chided him gently, with no anger in your tone, nothing to make him explode at you like he had before.

“I… yeah. I know.”

You frowned, even as you knew he couldn’t see you.

“The Cyberium… it made me not trust myself. It was relentless, talking to me. Muddling my thoughts with the AI…”

“You were scared.”

“I was furious. It made me volatile.”

His face buried into your neck. As though this was the most natural thing in the world, you found yourself trusting his touch. You brought a hand up to stroke his hair as he mumbled against your skin.

“I was scared. It threatened to hurt you if I didn’t do what it wanted. I didn’t sleep for a month, couldn’t let my guard down, knowing it might use my body to hurt you. It was trying to get to me.”

You found his arm where it was strewn across your side and covered it with your own arm, squeezed his hand in comfort.

“You should have told me.”

“How could I?”

Without a response you fell silent, thumb tracing the hairs on the back of his hand.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, someday. You shouldn’t have been there. I promise.”

He blamed the Doctor, beyond all anger, he was just upset with her. You could never hope to understand the length and breadth of their tumultuous relationship. It would take a human lifetime to comprehend the bond between them – two near-gods who had been stuck in a game of cat and mouse for their whole lives.

“She used me.”

“I wish she hadn’t.”

Without seeing each other’s faces, it was easier to talk.

“Would you have stopped it, if I hadn’t been there?”

“Eventually. I wanted to destroy the base properly. I wanted a plan. I hate the Cyberium for what it did to me. It should have been power, knowledge, and instead it tried to steal what I knew, take my body for its own. The things it showed me… how it threatened me… I couldn’t let it take what’s mine.”

“The TARDIS…” you realised.

“And you.”

You nodded abruptly at his words.

One thought wouldn’t leave your mind: those people around you, he would have let them die.

Collaterally to you, he’d saved them.

And maybe that could be a start.

“Is the Cyberium totally gone now?”

“Yep! Transferred it to the supercomputer on the base, and then destroyed the machinery. Tricky to hide my plan from the AI, but I managed it.”

You couldn’t help smirking at his brag.

“And how do you feel?”

“Glad to have my mind to myself again,” his tone flattened.

It was hard to believe everything fell together, just like that. It still felt so unfinished, so… unhandled. In the minutes you were alone the feelings of betrayal, the sheer enormity of your ordeal, had felt so unmanageable. Now, you felt ready to heal.

Beneath his hand, your stomach gurgled loudly, and you cringed at the noise.

As you were about to apologise, the Master spoke.

“Wait, did you eat today?”

You frankly had no idea how long today had even been. You shook your head with a confused frown, realising that now the adrenaline had left your system, you were damn hungry.

He clambered out of bed, and you pulled the duvet aside to follow him, your muscles protesting at even the idea of walking to the kitchen.

“No, stay there, you need to rest. I’ll be quick.”

True to his word, a plate of food was dumped on your lap in minutes. Some of it not quite fit for human consumption, but most of it your favourites.

He clambered back into bed beside you. He used his body to prop you up comfortably. He picked off what you didn’t want, chatting away about nothing in particular, and something scarily like peace settled over you. That twinge of panic, the fear his mood would flip on a dime, ebbed further away every time he made sure the blankets were covering your feet. With every second he sat beside you, sneaking bites of your food and laughing when you spilt crumbs on his covers, your resolve grew.

You’d stay.

Maybe you imagined it, but he seemed so much happier in his own head. The dark moments when he wasn’t paying attention never appeared, the mental war he was fighting never sneaking outwards to play across his face. Every laugh felt sincere, every word authentic.

When you were done eating the Master cleared the plate, and you took it in turns to brush your teeth. He went first, and when you took his place in the bathroom you saw a brand-new toothbrush sitting innocently beside his at the sink.

The sight made you feel dizzy, even minutes later when you re-emerged into his darkened bedroom, taking your place once more in the bed. The image of those two toothbrushes side by side was burned into your mind. He pulled you to his shirtless body wordlessly, no hesitations this time, whispering a goodnight as the room fell into pitch-blackness.

You needed to rest.

Each time you closed your eyes, you tensed up. No matter the comfort, The Master had gone still beside you, but you were certain he was still awake.

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere near the Alzarium Galaxy, I believe.”

“How far–”

“Half a universe away, I promise.”

You closed your eyes again, feeling him breathe behind you as you tried to push the image of that collapsed Cyberman from your mind, the screams, that crying, motherless child. You’d seen horrors before, but rarely as the victim of them. Never so close.

Suppressing tears, you opened your eyes, staring into the darkness of the room.

“I can’t sleep.”

He hummed sympathy, pulling you tighter to him and brushing his nose against your neck. You sighed into him, trying to close your eyes again, unable to keep your mind from straying.

“Help me?”

You could talk more tomorrow, when you’d rested and had some distance from everything. But as you fell asleep, dreamless as the Master’s hands cupped your temples, you knew you were home.

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #800: Starting the New Vacation Day (Super Smash Bros Ultimate)

10:12 a.m. at Isle Defino's Patio.......

Dark Pit: (Slams hie Hands On the Table) ('SLAM') Alright, dumbasses. Any of you got any ideas on what we're gonna do here today?

Pit: There's so many places to choose from.....I'm not even sure where go to first.

Yoshi: I spotted this cool looking ramen shop a few blocks from here. Maybe we can go there for lunch later.

Ryuji: (Smiles Softly) I'm down. Their ramen might be good. Maybe even better than Min-Min's.

Elsewhere in Isle Defino.....

Min-Min: (Let's Out a Sudden Sneeze) ('Chu')

Capt. Falcon: You alright there, Min?

Min-Min: (Quick Turns to Falcon) Oh. Uh yeah. I'm fine, Captain. I could've sworn felt a distrubence just now.....

Capt. Falcon: (Shrugs) Eh. Probably just the heat weather.

Min-Min: Maybe..........

Back to the Patio.....

Dark Pit: That's one place down. Anything else?

Yusuke: I, for one, plan on going to the beach side of this island to begin my new creation thoroughly.

Ryuji: (Gives Yusuke a Bit of a Playful Smirk on his Face) Gonna find more crabs to draw, my man?

Yusuke: Not quite I'm afraid. I am more interested in finding unique and rare forms of seashells if anything. (Turns to Tails) And it seems I might need your mechanic assistance on this, Tails.

Tails: (Smiles a Bit Sheepishly at the Inspired Young Artist) I....didn't really bring my tools here with me. So I can't really help you on a mechanical level. But I can buy you a metal detector if you want.

Yusuke: (Smiles Softly) That sounds like a good enough comparison. Many thanks, my two tailed friend.

Tails: (Giggles Softly While Blushing a Little) No problem, Yusuke.

???: Morning, peeps.

Ryuji: Hey, morning bro- (Eyes Suddenly Widened For a Brief Second Before Snickering at the Sight of Making his Way to the Table With Red Kiss Marks on his Face) Dude, is that really you?

Ren: (Seats Himself Down) In the flesh.

Dark Pit: (Sighs While Pinching his Nose) Alright. I'll bite. (Turns to Ren) Why are you covered in kiss marks?

Ren: Oh. Well, Makoto and I found out that today's Kiss Day earlier thos morning. So Makoto decided to pull on the red lipstick Ann brought her for her birthday a few months ago, and started kissing my face. (Smirks Softly at the Memory) Loved every minute of it too~

Pit: And you still have kiss marks on you.....why exactly?

Ren: (Shrugs) Eh. No real reason really. Just felt it showing it to the world a bit longer, you know? (Noticed the Gang is Staring at Him) What?

Yoshi: You know what we're gonna ask you now, right?

Everyone: WHY AREN'T YOU TWO MARRIED YET!!?

Ren: Hey! Come on! We will! Just in the near future, alright? We JUST graduated high school together.

Pit: I still wanna be a Ring Bearer!!

?????: Who's wedding are we talking about again?

Tails: (Turns and Sighs Once He Sees Sonic Sitting Next to Him With Having Pink Kiss Marks All Around his Face) Let me guess: Amy found out today's Kiss Day and kissed you like crazy?

Sonic: Yup. Mom and pa blurted it out on our double date yesterday and the rest was history.

Tails: (Smirks at Sonic Playfully) You enjoyed minute of it, didn't you?~

Sonic: (Sighs While Blushing) Yeah......(Smiles a Little While Slouching his Head Down a Little) That girl sure knows how to kiss a guy, you know?~

Tails: (Chuckles Lightly) I believe so, Mr. Lover Boy~

Sonic: Keep making fun of me and it'll be your turn soon enough, Tails (Starts Smirking Playfully Himself) And with a certain bandicoot girl nonetheless~

Tails: (Already Has a Deadpinned Look on his Face) How many times do I have to keep telling you people that we're JUST FRIENDS? There's no way Coco and I would ever participate in something like that.

Sonic: Okay....(Smirk Starts Growing a Bit Wider) But why did you let her kiss you under the mistletoe though?~

Tails: (Eyes Widened in Complete Shock) H-How did you.....

Sonic: Wave told Amy and I all about it when it all happened. (Gives Tails a Thumbs Up) And we already approved~

Tails: (Immediately Turns Away From Sonic While Blushing) S-Shut Up......

Morgana: (Sighs While Sitting Down on The Group's Table With Multi Color Kiss Marks (Pink, Blue, and Green) All Over His Face) Morning......

Ren: (Starts Snickering at Morgana Along With Ryuji and Pit) Damn, Mona. You too?

Morgana: Yeah. Me too. Once Futuba found out that today was Kiss Day, she SOMEHOW convinced Haru and Lavenza to kiss me. With different Lipstick colors!!

Ryuji: (Still Snickering) C'mon, cat. Look on the bright side. At least one of your kissers was a certain Velvet girl you've been crushing on~

Ren: (Teasingly Nodded in Agreement)

Morgana: (Glares at Ryuji) .......Ryuji. One of these days when I become human again and grow older, I will do everything in my power to suplex you into the ground.

Ryuji: (Chuckles Lightly) Cute threat, Mona, but uh...(Hold Both of his Arms Up While Showing Off his Muscles) ('Heh') I got bit stronger as of late. So might it take you a lot years before you even lift a finger on me, you know?

Morgana: ('Sighs in Defeat') Crap. You're right. It'll be too long if I waited.....Oh well. When all else fails, I can always kick you in shins.

Ryuji: (Glares at Morgana) Do it and I'll chase you to end the Earth, cat.

Morgana: (Glares at Ryuji) Wanna bet?

Ryuji: If you're up for it!

Dark Pit: Calm your asses down already. We still haven't decided what the first thing we should do here-

With the sound of two girls giggling with one another, the gang turns to see Ann and Shiho making their way to the table together while having kiss marks on each of their faces.

Ryuji: Geez....Even Ann and Shiho got into the holiday.....

Ren: Right?

Ann: Hey, guys. (Sit Herself Down Next to Shiho While Giggling Softly)) You're probably wondering why we're-

Ren: You two found out about Kiss Day is today. So it led to the both of you making out. Am I right?

Shiho: Wait. How did you- (Starts Snickering Once She Noticed the Kiss Marks on his Face) Did Makoto seriously kiss all over your face?~

Ren: (Smirks Proudly) Yep! It might be the most cutest thing she done so far~ Don't tell her I said that by the way.

Ann: ('Sigh') You know, Ren, it astounds me that you two have been acting like a married couple since since day one and yet neither of you STILL have proposal to one another yet!

Ren: Um. Does "We just graduated" doesn't ring you any bells, Takamaki? And besides, if anything, I'm surprised YOU TWO having proposal to one another yet. You already have apartment together and give each other pet names. Might as start now while you're ahead.

Ann: Oh trust me. Shiho and I WILL marry each other very soon and you are gonna be our best man.

Ren: (Eyes Widened a Little in Genuine Surprise) Oh shit. Really?

Ann: (Giggles Softly) Yes. Really. You're one of my best friends, Ren. I can't think of anyone else to fit that role better than you. Well, I mean, there's Ryuji, but.... I'm not sure if could take up the role that well. (Turns to Ryuji) No offense.

Ryuji: Eh. It's no problem. (Smiles Brightly at Ren) I totally see Ren being Best Man material lot more than I could.

Ren: Huh. Well, if that's really what you girls want....(Smiles Softly) I'd be happy to be your future Best Man.

Ann: (Squeals Happily While Pulling Ren into a Loving Hug) Thank you so much, Ren-Ren!~

Shiho: (Happily Joins into the Hug) You have no idea how happy you made us-

Pit: (Suddenly Slams the Table With Excitement) ('SLAM') I GOT IT!

Dark Pit: (Turns to Pit Along With Everyone Else) What is it, Pit-Stain?

Pit: I just thought of something we could do first! Souvenir shopping!

'Silence'

'Wave Sounds'

Yoshi: You.....got any ideas, Pit?

Pit: (Happily Nodded) Yep! We can go souvenir shopping together. All this talk about Kiss Day has really made me miss Viridi a lot more than before. (Smiles Brightly) So I wanna buy her souvenir gift we could enjoy, you know?

Ann: Awwwww~ Pit~ Of course we can go souvenir shopping together.

Shiho: (Smiles Softly) We can even help you pick something nice for her and everything.

Sonic: You ladies mind helping my little bro with that too. (Smirks Teasingly Again) He has a Bandicoot Girl back home to impress~

Tails: (Glares at Sonic While Blushing Again) D-Don't you ever shut up anymore, Sonic!? And besides, I already promised Yusuke that I would buy him that metal detector!

Yusuke: (Gives Tails a Reassuring Smile) Oh there's really no need for you to go to the trouble to buy it for me. I believe you should use it give your lady friend something nice.

Sonic: See? Yusuke's gets it.

Tails: ('Sighs in Defeat') Fine..... I'll buy her a souvenir. But NOT because I have a crush! She's my best friend and nothing more.

Sonic: Whatever you say, lil' bro.

Ryuji: (Turns to Morgana) Hey, Mona, maybe you should try souvenir shopping too. (Starts Smirking Again) Maybe something nice your Velvet girl~

Morgana: (Eye Starts Twitching Before Turning to Ren) Seriously. Can I PLEASE kick his shins already!?

Ren: No.

Ann: Be nice to Ryuji, Mona.

Mona: ('Ugh') Fine......

Yoshi: (Turns to Dark Pit) We should give it a shot, DP. You could buy something nice for your girlfriends back home.

Dark Pit: I don't know....There might be a possibility that they won't it.

Yoshi: Ah don't be like that. I'm sure they'll love anything you get for them. Even if isn't fancy like or whatever.

Dark Pit: Wait. How much souvenirs usually cost exactly?

Yoshi: (Shrugs) I dunno. Five to ten bucks maybe?

Dark Pit: (Shrugs as Well) Eh. Fuck it. I'm down.

Pit: Alright! All in favor of Souvenir Shopping say 'AYE'!

Everyone: 'AYE'

Happy Kiss! (Again!)

@keyenuta

@caleb13frede

@princekirijo

@26shann

@cyber-wildcat

@ma-lemons

@albion-93

[maidmvricn]

( lex scott davis. thirty. cis woman. she/her. )  the story of ROBIN HOOD now lives in the soul of MARION GREENWOOD, aged THIRTY years. they’re a LOCAL, having been in woodvale for THIRTY YEARS in the NORTH as an EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT TO THE MAYOR & COUNCIL. and yeah, they definitely have the vibes of MAID MARIAN with the powers of ANIMAL SOUL, don’t you think? @folkloremsintro

ABOUT

TW: death, prostitution

marion was born into a life of relative prestige and privilege, primarily on account of her familial political ties and law-serving in the form of cops or lawyers. the greenwoods, meant to lead by example and protect their public image by any means, did their level best to live up to reputation in every way except for where it counted: when the doors were closed. addiction and corruption ran rampant through her family line, the usual understanding of power in wealth turning even the best of her brethren crooked in some form or another.

and so it should come as little surprise that marion’s life itself, despite appearances, was far from perfect.  

her mother was a prostitute, primarily serving men of great religion or connection, and thus her mother in name only, as her father refused to take on the shame of marrying a woman he considered beneath him. less so upon discovering her .. condition, the news of her pregnancy in their steady time together ( at his request, as surely no man was allowed to touch what was his ) hardly bringing the joy she wished. his father, a former chief of police, would surely never let him hear the end of it should he even consider otherwise, and instead encouraged a union between his son and a family friend — a woman with the proper connections, a decent standing. and this woman, this eleanor, would present herself accordingly — marion herself long under the impression that eleanor was of blood relation until she uncovered otherwise and chose to keep this secret, and others she may have discovered, well into her years. even at their sudden passing — a situation claimed as poor circumstance, a matter of wrong place, wrong time to cover up any possible scandal — when she would come into the guardianship of her uncle john and fall into his darker world of manipulation and treachery. she kept their lies to herself. she maintained their pristine image. because it was expected. and marion would do little else beyond what was expected — even these days. at least on the surface. to shame her father otherwise, her family publicly, was a death sentence and frankly, rather impractical. there were better ways to maneuver, she’d learn, better ways to break the trend of corruption and betrayal her family had encouraged.

she had come to the decision, rather early in her years, in fact, to fight them from the inside. them, and all the others like them that had disenfranchised those that counted on them and abused the power bestowed upon them. because they were wrong. when marion heard the stories of those of lesser means than she, who only wished for better for themselves and those around, she listened. she learned. she’d bide her time, work her way through, and pursue what mattered.

the journey to that goal? of lesser importance.  

ABILITY

ANIMAL SOUL — possesses the soul of an animal within her human body, permitting her animal-like capabilities, however, this has a limited scope. she can only mimic one creature at a time and her actual size only allows for so much. she also cannot physically transform into these creatures and the longer she chooses to impersonate them, the more setbacks she incurs. this includes things like prolonged sensitivity to ultrasonic waves or easily triggered rage, becoming more animal than human.

SPECIFIC SOULS

WOLF — powerful bite, enhanced endurance, enhanced senses (smell, hearing and sight), enhanced strength, enhanced tracking, tracking evasion, temperature regulation, predator instinct

FELINE — claw retraction, enhanced agility, enhanced balance, climbing, enhanced flexibility, enhanced leap, enhanced senses, enhanced speed, darkness adaptation, night vision, enhanced stealth

AVIAN — aerial adaptation, aerial combat mastery, atmospheric adaptation, wing manifestation, environmental adaptation, enhanced agility

BAT — echolocation, wallcrawling, enhanced hearing, enhanced smell, hibernation, sonic scream, darkness adaptation

SNAKE — camouflage, constriction, crushing, scale manifestation, elasticity, enhanced regeneration, enhanced smell, poison generation, prehensile tongue

TURTLE — dermal armor, enhanced endurance, enhanced durability, defense mode, prey instincts

SHARK — aquatic adaptation, aquatic breathing, powerful bite, enhanced endurance, feral mind, speed swimming

MONKEY — enhanced agility, enhanced balance, climbing, enhanced combat,  enhanced endurance, enhanced strength, prehensile tail, adoptive muscle memory

HARE — burrowing, enhanced agility, enhanced hearing, enhanced leap, enhanced speed, enhanced stealth, luck

HEADCANONS

her parents passed when she was younger in age. she’s been in the custody of her uncle since and their relationship is a little messy, frankly. there have been no confirmations regarding what’s occurred or why regarding her parents, just that it was spun as a sad set of events on account of the family buying silence. considering where and how they were found, however, marion has her own opinions on the matter of her father and his wife’s passing

her uncle’s connections, in part, secured her current position with the mayor and council, allowing her access to those she otherwise wouldn’t be able to pursue

marion is a philanthropist and activist, volunteering her time to those in need, utilizing her wealth to support causes that matter, and raising her voice to speak out for those that cannot, albeit in subtler fashions. unless her uncle believes the publicity might be of some use

marion is also a huge workaholic

very lois lane meets sawyer of cats don't dance, if that gives you an idea of personality

despite her appearance as an upstanding individual, marion has often broken laws in the services of others and has a terrible trend for pursuing those most would consider questionable, at best. romantically or otherwise

marion is a talented archer and fencer and a decent kickboxer. her father wanted a son, and upon discovering she was not this, decided it was still worthwhile to instill in her proper methods of protection. no child of his would be weak in any sense

WANTED

the rich and well-off, the connected, the political

though i'll likely be placing a wc separately, a guy of gisborne would be lovely

the criminally inclined? or just those questionable or unconventional sorts frankly. specifically in exes or even odd associates

those she’s secretly supported in some fashion

those that know of or are connected to her uncle or robin, for that matter

any and all, truly. i’m quite flexible and love all ideas

[maggyoutthere]

I can't believe I actually fINISHED THIS HOLY SHIT-

The chapters are more than 4000 words long combined. I literally never wrote something this big damn. As much as this is supposed to be satire of bad creepypastas, this little shit found its way into my heart. I'll treasure it as probably the best thing I've written, like, ever XD

‼Tws for blood and body horror

First part here

Second part here

Sonic: Battle of Metal and Blood (Part 3 - Finale)

Synopsis: Local teen faces off against whatever is haunting this game and dies(?)

The game took a while to load again.

I was already making backup plans in my head in the case this didn't work. I could always ask people online if anyone had ever known about this game, even get my brother to help me record some clips of it to post on forums and sites. If that didn't work, maybe try and dump the file on my PC? That could be dangerous; if it was making the console crash and restart, I didn't want to know what it could do to my computer.

I was thrown in the same level. Well that was weird. It was the exact same jungle, or at least it looked like it at first. I could tell it was now supposed to be night time since everything had almost a dark blue filter over it, even Tails, who I was playing as this time. The night filter made the level a bit harder since I couldn't see some things properly, but it was still playable. It looked just like any Sonic game from that time, but I knew something was definitely up with it. I just flew over some badniks and made my way across the level (I missed smashing stuff with Amy's hammer so I just tried to escape that level as quickly as possible)

I entered the same clearing, fearing what would happen to Tails this time. Guy was 8, and I doubted SEGA would let their employees just kill off a kid on screen; but again, as far as I knew this game wasn't even supposed to be here. It could've been some unhappy worker or employee gone rogue making a statement. It wasn't helping to be honest. As I followed the exact same route as Amy, I found Metal Sonic again, still stepping on... something. It was too dark to see what it was. It just made squishy and disgusting noises as he pressed his foot on top of it. For an old game, the audio design was pretty unsettling and well done.

I didn't want to get closer to the guy, so I tried flying over him and getting to a checkpoint or something, anything besides confronting that thing. As soon as I made Tails take off from the ground, Metal came flying at him. I almost shrieked as I tried getting the little guy away from that thing, immediately making him land and sprint out of there as fast as possible. In all that panic, I didn't even notice when he tripped over whatever Metal was stepping on and fell on his face. No matter how many buttons I pressed or how hard I pressed them, Tails wouldn't get up. Metal catched up with him and the screen went black as soon as the two collided.

Those same red eyes were back on screen, staring straight back at me. I was with my face glued to the television from all the anxiety that little chase scene gave me, so I jumped back when the thing looked back at me. It felt like it was looking directly at me.

"I want ears like yours"

There it was again

"I want arms like yours"

"I want a mind to think and a heart to feel like yours"

I wanted to punch the screen; I had no idea what was going on. This was starting to get unsettling. Then, I was back in the main menu, the game's menu. It didn't crash this time, at least that. Tails was gone, like Amy. Now, Sonic was there, facing his metal faker. The two looked like they were about to punch each other in an epic pose. Visually it looked great, but then it hit me. "Battle of Metal and Blood"; did it mean faker versus organic? So the two were going to fight again? Maybe we could still get a happy ending of some sorts.

I didn't even flinch. I pressed continue.

The jungle was gone. I was in some facility  now, playing as the blue hedgehog himself this time. The level layout was much different this time; there were more loops, enemies, spikes and so on. Maybe it was only because I was playing as Sonic this time, so I could just speed my way through the level without having to worry about smashing enemies or flying away from them. I got through the level and ended up reaching an empty room; Metal Sonic was there.

I had never been much of a player myself; I'd rather stand by the sidelines and watch as more experienced people got through all the hard levels. Sure I played a lot when I was a kid but I hadn't carried that with me to adolescence. Now I had to do it myself. Hours of playing Sonic CD as a 12 year old, don't fail me now.

The boss fight music kicked in and a large door slammed shut, covering the way out. It was actually kinda hard landing a hit on the guy; I was supposed to dodge his attacks until he got tired and stopped, then parry on certain parts of the walls and spin dash at Metal Sonic as many times as I could while he was down. The thing was: I was awful at parrying. I sucked at anything that involved aiming, but I was somehow able to pull it off well enough to send the guy to his knees after around 20 minutes of dodging and parrying things.

When I hit him for the last time, it looked like I'd split his face in half or something. There were some pieces of Metal Sonic's shiny blue cover scattered around the arena. He just stood still for a while covering his face. Did I do it? Was he deactivating or something? My fingers were getting sore from holding the control and mashing buttons so hard. He wouldn't move on his own, so I just made Sonic approach him to maybe give the final blown.

As I got closer to him, Metal immediately lashed at Sonic again, trying to hold him down. You could see his face a bit better and… it was kinda red. What was that? Was he changing to another phase or something? The screen went black again.

Staring back at me were no longer those two red beacons; there was only one this time, as Metal Sonic did have half of his face completely torn apart. The uncovered half of his face was a bloodied, pulsating mess of flesh and wires. Coils, staples and stitches kept the mass of muscle and whatever else he had inside of him crudely stuck together. Two different colored eyes were shoved in one eye socket as the whole thing now oozed with blood and oil.

"I need quills like yours"

"I need a body like yours"

Was that… what Amy and Tails…

"I need an organic body like yours

to become the Real Sonic"

What… the fuck… I was too shocked to even move as it cut back to the game. Metal Sonic had successfully tackled Sonic to the ground and had started clawing at his face as if trying to rip it out of his "loathsome copy". As I saw a pool of blood appearing under them, I told myself that was enough and got up to pull the cartridge right out of the console. This was just sickening. As I got closer to the console to pull the memory card out, I realised something that made me start worrying about this in a different way. As I got a good look at my Playstation 2, I realized it wasn't plugged in. It wasn't receiving any power at all. It was only connected to the TV.

How had it been working then?...

I slowly backed away from the console, and when I looked back at the screen, that darned thing was looking back at me. It was looking at me as I was trying to stop it, peeking at the side of the screen as I went to turn off my Playstation. That thing knew I was there. No no no, this couldn't be happening. I started shaking as I realized there was something looking back at me though the screen. Its red eyes pierced into my soul, and I didn't know how to stop it.

"I WANT A SOUL… LIKE YOURS"

I shrieked as I finally pulled the cartridge out of the console, throwing it against the wall to my side in pure fear. The screen immediately went to static and the Playstation opened by itself, the Sonic Gems Collection DVD taunting me. That was NOT just a game. Whatever it was, whoever it was, I was terrified to even pick up the memory card. I put the DVD back in its box and turned off the console. I tried taking deep breaths and getting some sleep; it was late, I'd drank a lot of coffee. Maybe all the coffee I was having had created this fever dream. I begged for that to be the situation. Still, I got no sleep that night. My eyes were focused on the TV right in front of my bed, its bright red ON/OFF button giving me panic attacks each time I thought I saw it moving. If I didn't know better, I'd have believed the thing had been watching me all night.

Would it come for me next?

I ended up passing out around 5AM; I was constantly checking my phone to see the time and messaging my friends. I tried explaining the situation to them but they thought I was either messing with them or that I had somehow dreamed the whole situation. I was dead-sure I hadn’t though. I woke up around 2PM and, according to my brother, I looked like shit. Not even he would believe me when I told him what had happened last night; I couldn’t have dreamed the whole thing up even if I wanted to. There had to be something to prove it was all real… the memory card. If I played the game in front of him, he’d have to believe me. After getting breakfast, I pulled my bro back to my room to show him the game. I hesitantly went to pick up the memory card I had thrown against the wall yesterday, but it was no longer there.

“What are you looking for?”

“The memory card; it was right here! Help me look for it!”

“You mean this one?” he pointed at the Playstation.

The fucking cartridge had plugged itself back on the console. What was that thing, and how was it doing that?! The TV screen lit up with static as me and my bro jumped back; we looked at each other in panic and confusion as no one had even touched the TV. We could feel the electricity flowing through the air, giving us chills and making our hair stand up. My brother grabbed my hand as we saw the darned thing appear in front of the static, its shiny metallic cover still split in half. I froze in fear with my little brother to protect right there; I should’ve done more, I should’ve gotten rid of that cursed thing as soon as I unplugged it from the console last night. That thing placed its hands against his side of the screen, its fingers twitching as the blood made the metal hinges rust and creak. The edges of the screen leaked with blood as if he was trying to break this barrier that separated him from us. It looked at us the same way it looked at me; ready to take what he believed was his.

“I… WANT… SOULS LIKE YOURS… AND I WILL HAVE THEM…"

[kessielrg]

[Kingdom Hearts] The Shinrai no Kokoro

Summary: In which Sora temporarily makes Sabrina his captain during a trip to the Carribean. No better way to gain someone’s trust than to place them in absolute power, right?

Rating: K

Word Count: 2,691 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

- - -

It didn’t matter how old he was, where he had gone, or what his mission was as a Keyblade wielder, there was a special part of Sora’s heart reserved for sailing the Caribbean. He didn’t have time to find Jack Sparrow, or see how Elizabeth Swann was doing, though- he had come on a special mission with a very special someone in tow. Not Kairi -to whom he did promise a private leg around the archipelagos-, but none other than the disagreeable Sabrina Sidney.

Sabrina was a friend -a very close friend, if certain people had their way- of Ventus. She was always disagreeing with someone, for no other reason than she could. Ventus (with a few moments to Aqua and Kairi) was the only one she seemed to occasionally open up to- something that Sora (as a friend magnet) couldn’t fathom. Who wouldn’t want to be his friend? How could he not want to add Sabrina to the list of people he could trust in times of need? Her persistence was admirable, and the way she thought certain problems through would impress Sora just enough to be in awe. But she had a chronic ‘can-not-spit-it-out’ problem. So when she just walked up to him earlier today to say she wanted to go to the Caribbean in his vessel, Sora was beside himself.

Among anything, he was excited.

Wearing his pirate attire again after so long felt like a hug. His hands on the ship’s wheel was like shaking hands with a friend. He would belt out in sea shanties if he knew Sabrina would enjoy them. Just enough so she didn’t tell him to be quiet and hide away in the captain’s cabin for the trip, at least. For now, he didn’t. Instead he kept his hands to the wheel as Sabrina occasionally checked the map and compass for their course. Sora liked when she placed her hands on the rail overlooking the lower deck and stood tall as she watched the seas roll past them. Her raven hair would probably be flying if she didn’t have it tied back into a bun, helped by the numerous braids of various widths to keep each flyaway in place.

He knew she wouldn’t admit it, but Sabrina liked to dress up as a pirate too. She wore a long sleeved linen shirt that fastened in the front- the top three hook and eye clasps undone to show a small portion of her chest to give fools with less respect than Sora a small show. The necklace she wore with a medallion sized pendant also helped emphasize the area. Her canvas breeches were cut a little below her knee, with small patches of wear that looked almost strategic. The coat she wore was a deep purple with golden embroidery along the sleeves and edges; the coattails were shorter than Sora’s, only reaching to mid-calf on her.

As she stood tall, you could almost feel the confidence radiate off of her. Sora only caught a glimpse or two just to show admiration. But he didn’t keep his gaze for long- he had a ship to command, after all.

“Doesn’t this feel great?!” Sora declared, hoping to garner her attention. “The wind through the sails, the smell of the sea, nothing for miles but us and three different shades of blue…”

“And the constant reminder you grew up on an island...” Sabrina noted with a dull tone. She looked over at him, the disapproving look on her face proving to be nothing more than a major downer.

“This trip was your idea.” he reminded her, almost in a smug little voice. It didn’t phase her in the slightest. “At least have a little fun, Sabi.”

“I’m not on a Gummi Ship, I don’t have to.”

“You didn’t laugh once on the way over either,” Sora also pointed out. Not long after a wide, mischievous grin crossed his face before he said, “Although I do think it picked up your thoughts on surprising Ven…”

He was barely able to dodge her attempt to whack him. However, his hand was still on the wheel, so the ship violently turned before Sora was quickly able to steady it again. He offered a sheepish grin in a half baked apology. Sabrina huffed before returning to study the maps. Sora’s grin didn’t stop as he looked over her for a moment.

“Oh!” he then realized. “We need to establish this ship’s rules!”

Sabrina looked up again, her expression less than amused.

“What are you talking about?” she questioned.

Sora’s grin got even wider. “You, Lady Sabi, get to be my fine vessel’s captain. But only for today! We’re on a very important mission, and you’ve got the maps.”

“Whatta joy.”

Sora offered her a boastful grin as he gave his nose a little brush. “It’s all for Ven, right?” he mused. “You’ve got the maps for the treasure you’re giving him. It only makes sense to make you captain for the day. Now, where’re we headin’, captain?”

“Keep the course straight,” she told him, looking between the map and the compass, “Eastbound all the way.”

“Aye, aye madam!” Sora agreed with a salute before maintaining their course. The start of a new journey causing a buzz in his body. He was even taking it with one of the most solidary people he knew too! It was enough to almost make him want to sing. In fact… 

“Yo ho mateys, away!” the young man almost belted out at the top of his lungs, “There’ll be treasure and adventure today! Heave-ho, here we go, together as a team! Captain Sabi and first mate So-ora, are we!”

Sabrina did absolutely nothing to hide her groan as she buried her head in her hand.

. . .

The duo dropped anchor when they came to a small cove hidden behind a dormant volcano. They both took an oar on their little rowboat so they could get closer in. Sora got out first so he could help Sabrina out, she took his gesture with some hesitation. Just the acknowledgement made Sora happy. He didn’t leave her side once as they ventured further in.

“There.” Sabrina said when she noticed something on a large rock ahead of them. Sora let her go on ahead, but something out of the corner of his eye made him pause.

“Sabrina,” Sora spoke up, “I don’t think we’re-”

He didn’t have time to finish as a loud wail filled the area. Sabrina and Sora immediately recoiled from the sound. When they were able to collect their bearings again, someone else was indeed with them. A siren now sat on the rock. Seeing her caused a chill to run up Sora's spine, and he immediately went to Sabrina’s side. Sabrina, too, had become more apprehensive at the newcoming.

“Who dares to take my treasure from me?” the siren questioned, its voice not quite male or female. Its black and blue eyes flicked from Sabrina to Sora and back again with a dark gaze.

“I am.” Sabrina said without an ounce of hesitation. “What of it?”

The siren raised an eyebrow at her.

“The treasure here, the Shinrai no Kokoro, can only be taken by one who passes my test. Do you accept this challenge?”

To this, Sabrina scoffed. “Well, if you’re going to make it complicated...” she grumbled, her eye roll deliberate as well.

“Very well.” the siren agreed with a nod. The siren then opened its mouth to let out a sound that made Sabrina recoil so badly, she had to cover her ears. To Sora, it had a different effect. His muscles started to relax, his pupils dilated, and his mind took a backseat to the soothing sounds of the siren. Once it was sure he was completely under its thrall, the siren stopped its song.

“That’s your test?” Sabrina questioned. “Some high pitched wail that did nothing?”

The siren smirked at her. It then turned its gaze to Sora and gave a nod. Sabrina found it odd, immediately turning to look at Sora as well.

“Sora?” the young woman asked, cautiously looking him over. “You alright, there?”

Sora summoned his Keyblade. Sabrina let out an annoyed sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Sora raised his weapon and pointed it at her, the tip blazing in preparation of a magic attack. Sabrina immediately protected herself with Barrier before it had the chance to hit her. As she called her own Keyblade, it left her open for a new attack. The possessed young man readied his Keyblade before driving toward her. A sound of surprise escaped Sabrina’s lips as she fumbled out of the way. How she ever avoided that was beyond her- and, unfortunately, the siren was not done with Sora yet.

“Why do you seek the Shinrai no Kokoro?” Sora asked, his voice mingling with that of the siren’s. It was hard to tell if they were simply talking at the same time, or just an effect of the siren’s control over him.

“Because I wanted to give Ventus something nice for his birthday. It’s, like, a week from now. Which you would know.” Sabrina sharply told him, jumping out of the way from a rather hard hitting swing. She quickly turned to the siren to seethe, “If you’re going to possess someone, the least you could do is leech his memories before asking obvious questions.”

The siren simply offered half a shrug in response. Sabrina had some choice words for the creature but didn’t have time to say them as she happened to parry another blow from Sora. The shock of it caused him to stumble backwards slightly.

“Why give the Shinrai no Kokoro to Ventus?” Sora asked.

“Do I really have to say it?” Sabrina groaned. She almost didn’t notice that Sora was preparing to perform Sonic Blade and was nearly hit at the first blow. It would have been a successful dodge had he not clipped her arm on the last strike. 

“Fine!” she shouted in aggravation. “It’s because I like him! And since I don’t show that I like people in a ‘normal’ way, these few times when I do would mean more to the people around me. Especially for him. He doesn’t give up on me in a way that isn’t annoying or overbearing, and deserves to know that I do see it. The least I could do is remember his stupid birthday.”

The siren gave a small sound of approval at this. Why was a concept that was going to grade on Sabrina’s nerves for awhile. Not that she had much time to think. Sora, despite not being a ‘master’, still apparently knew enough to have an upperhand while possessed. Maybe the siren was just drawing out his frustrations toward her- if they truly existed. Wouldn’t that be a fun concept? It would explain why his inner mind apparently had no resistance to all of this. Not that Sabrina was going to go on and beg for him to snap out of it either.

What she needed to do was think smarter, not harder. She moved to an area where she could get a better read on his attacks. It wasn’t much, but there was a definite moment where Sora had to configure his body before attacking- like a puppet adjusting its limbs so the strings did not get tied up. It was enough of an opening that when he rushed at her again, their Keyblades let out a loud clang as they connected. Sabrina and Sora were now in a deadlock. Up close, Sabrina could see the haze over Sora’s eyes from the siren’s control.

“Why choose Sora to accompany you?” Sora asked her as he pressed their Keyblades closer together. One of them would have to give soon, their strength was close to being evenly matched in this state. Sabrina did not plan on being disarmed first.

Unfortunately, in a way, she still had to.

“It’s because you’re the only one I trust with this.” she admitted, somewhat in a grumble. “I am capable of seeing when someone wants to get through to me, and I know the Carribean is your favorite world, so of course I would ask you to help. You’re the only one I could ask. I…” (the young woman took a moment to give a small, disgusted groan) “I trust you.”

As the words came from her mouth, the grip Sora had on his Keyblade started to weaken. His pupils returned to normal size as he gave several confused blinks.

“Wait…” he slurred- his voice belonging just to him again, “You mean that?”

“We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

What Sora did next happened so quickly that Sabrina was caught completely off guard. He dispelled his Keyblade, bringing her to rock forward a bit from the sudden weight change, then he launched himself at her to give a tight bear hug. The force of which knocked them both to the ground. Sora’s laughter filled the cove as he held Sabrina tight. The siren gave a small, approving smile at the display, even as Sabrina started to demand for Sora to get off of her.

Even after Sabrina managed to shove him off, Sora still laid on the ground in a happy -practically relieved- laughter. Sabrina scoffed at him as she got up. She took time to brush her pants and jacket before giving her shirt a little shake to get the sand out.

“You have done well.” the siren approved, earning the attention of both teens again. “Come.”

Sabrina adjusted herself a bit more before taking careful strides to the siren. Sora, his laughing starting to cease somewhat, also got to his feet but he did not stop her. He could quite clearly see the siren hold up the palm of her hand; a ring nestled inside that was silver with green and purple jewels embedded within it. Sabrina opened her hand as well, allowing the siren to let the ring drop on her palm. The siren smiled as she covered Sabrina’s hand with both of its own.

“The boy you give this treasure to will value it above gold.” the siren informed the young woman. “Not because it has any true value on its own, but because he knows it came from your heart.”

“As all sappy gifts go.” Sabrina huffed. The siren offered a soft smile before her form dissolved into a pile of sand.

Sabrina turned around to go back to Sora, letting out a long, tired sigh in the process. She slipped the ring onto her finger for safekeeping. It fit so well, she wondered if whatever magic kept it the perfect size would still work when Ven got it. Sora patiently waited for her to be at his side again. He gave the ring a look as well. It was rather pretty, and for a moment the two of them just admired it. If it had any rare magical abilities to it, he wouldn’t have been the one to know. But it must have had something special to it if Sabrina thought Ventus would like it.

“We’re ready to head out captain.” Sora told her, standing tall as he gave her a salute. Sabrina blinked, looking up at him with a confused glance. It took her another minute more to even realize what he was saying.

“Then get back to the rowboat.” she told him, her usual attitude returning in full swing. “We wasted enough time here as it is. The last thing I want when we get back is Aqua questioning where we went. If Aqua questions where we were, everyone questions where we were, and there goes Ventus’s surprise.”

“Aye, aye madam!” he agreed, finishing off his salute. He then gave a rather gleeful laugh as he started to run back to the ship. Sabrina watched him with a small shake of her head, unsure if she should be annoyed and amused. She looked back down at the ring then back at him.

“Thank you, Sora.” she said, soft and barely audible, before following him out.

[pangtasias-atelier]

A Drabble with Height growth for both Tibarn and Naesala that are both at each other with size comparisons. Which they end up around 50ft being as one of Tellius largest rulers of the Laguz. ^^

Sorry this took so long to get out! I just kinda struggle with forms of growth besides wg lol, Hopefully this was worth the wait~

________________________

“You'll have no chance," Tibarn flexes his bicep, the round sphere of muscle bulging in his sleeve. "Of beating me to reclaim leadership," Tibarn grins down at Naesala.

The two uncharacteristically deciding for a walk, they explore the vast area of Serenes Forest. Long left abandoned, what once was no longer exists, ruins and items left behind; even the most desperate of thieves weren't willing to trench into former Laguz territory. 

The two walking side by side, Naesala stops in his tracks. Turning to Tibarn, Naesala gives him once over, eyebrow perked. Finding nothing of interest, he scoffs, resuming his pace. 

"I have no interest in your idiotic competitions," Naesala purses his lips. Reflexively outstretching his wings, he ignores Tibarn's steps. 

"I'm sure you're tired of being the scrawny one, Naesala," Tibarn's voice lilts. "And the shorter one," 

Naesala sighs, refusing to emote much more than that. "I don't care about your trivial comparisons," Keeping up his pace, Naesala continues to shrug the dead branches out of the way. 

"You always made sure to mention your wings being larger," 

"We were younger," Naesala hisses, his face heating up from such memories. "We are adults,"

"Hmmm, true," Tibarn relents, a grin still plastered on his face. 

The two continuing their trek, the gray burned out rubbish seems more plentiful as dead pieces of nature crunch under their boots. 

"And why are we even bothering with this?" Knee bent, Naesala presses his hand to his hair, his other hand gesturing to the wilderness ahead of them.

"We left a lot of things here, who knows what we left," His old pirate ways showing through, Tibarn cracks his knuckles.

The intrigue of treasure getting to him, Naesala perks up, biting his tongue. Resuming, he pushes forward. The two continue in silence for once, the slight rustling from the gentle breeze being their only offering of sound. 

Natural paths all covered with time's dirt, the two make their own path, walking in-between trees and shrubbery. Reaching an open area, the two stop as they realize it to be old dwellings. 

Both giving each other a glance, they head off. The two immediately scavenging, Naesala greedily scours the area. Tibarn more gentle, he carefully handles searches through. 

Tibarn being proved a liar, the area is nearly barren, personal belongings all gone. Frowning, he bears his teeth. His head whips to the side as he hears Naesala fumbling with something. 

A chest in his hands, the locked box proves to be his mortal nemesis. Tibarn's boots crunching behind him, Naesala picks up the pace, his wings unfurling before furling. Letting go and taking a deep breath, Naesala closes his eyes. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a bobby pin. Sticking it inside the lock, his face remains passive as he carefully twists and turns it.

The lock clicking, Naesala eyes open. He hears Tibarn's puff of breath behind him, his body right behind him as he peers behind his head, Tibarn inching his way closer and 

Naesala shuts the chest closed, turning back to Tibarn. The two begin their usual childish petty squabbles.

"I found it, so I get first-"

"It was my idea," Tibarn grabs the chest, Naesala dropping it. 

A strange medallion at the end of a long chain, Tibarn grabs it, quizzically staring at it. 

Naesala's hands clenching around it, the two cling onto it with a vice grip. 

The medallion inscribed with galdr, Tibarn and Naesala pay no attention to the writing, their attention focused instead on each other. 

Both staring at each other, Naesala tilts his head up to Tibarn’s down. Suddenly having to keep his neck straight, his eyes widen. Searching around, his eyes land on the medallion. Mind hit with the realization, he turns back to Tibarn. Face to face with Tibarn’s meaty pecs, Naesala cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of Tibarn’s face. Tibarn grinning down at Naesala, he yanks the medallion, Naesala still not budging. Frowning, he spots Naesala shooting up like a beanstalk, Naesala reaching his height.

The two of them already at the third of the height of the trees, their large figures glare at each other, neither willing to back down. Both of them stretching their wings, their new massive wingspans take up half the width of the spacious clearing. Their heads already peaking past the roofs, the two are colossal, the swirling energy of the medallion still remaining. 

“Let go!” Naesala nearly lets go from his shout, his breath sounding deeper. More booming. More commanding. Grinning, Naesala straightens his back out, adding -- what should have normally been only a couple inches -- a couple extra feet to his frame. Looking down, he grins at his size. At the space he commands with his mere existence. Clothes magically growing with him, they fit his heightened enlarged frame, glorious vest still revealing his lithe chest. Still not as buff as Tibarn, said fact feels insignificant with both of them towering over what should be every other laguz. Flight necessary to even reach their faces.

Tibarn scrutinizing Naesala, he huffs at the scrawnier raven being his height. Giving a tentative flex in his free arm, he grins at noticing Naesala’s still svelte frame. Tibarn having always relished his commanding figure and stature, oftentimes compared more to a tiger than a hawk, his commanding height pleases him, Tibarn holding onto the medallion as if it were to be snatched out of his paw. An actual likelihood as the two of them continue to fight for it.

The medallion glowing its bright blue hue, Naesala’s and Tibarn;s breathing grows more ragged and huffed as they continue to shoot up. Frames becoming absolutely dominating and massive, the clearing that once was an area of living soon becomes taken up by both of their frames. Houses resembling boulders and then rocks and then pebbles, the two Laguz kings’ figures overtake nearly everything else. 

The trees of Serenes Forest frighteningly tall, an aspect perfect for the bird Laguz, even Tibarn’s and Naesala’s heads peek out from the crests of them. Both maddeningly grinning at each other, both of their hands now clasped around the medallion, the item soon changes hue. A bright white light emitting from it, it flashes for a fragment of a second before ending up destroyed, the medallion in tatters. Their leverage suddenly gone, both of them end up tumbling back.

Tibarn too slow, he falls crashing into the ground, the earth itself shaking from his tumble. A crater forming from the impact of his ass, the trees that he hits fall back down, dust dislodging itself from the commotion.

Naesala more graceful, his wings provide a cushion for his fall. Unfortunately, the massive gusts of wind provided by such prodigious wings creates its own issue. A windstorm picking up, the sonic winds blows away the trees. His wings too wide for even such a clearing, the trees in its way only ended up getting blown as well.

Both sitting down, their long legs, end up crammed into each other’s, both uncomfortable. 

“Thinking of fighting for the title King of the Bird Alliance now?” Tibarn grins at Naesala.

“Shut up, Tibarn,” Naesal goes to stand back up, dusting himself off. Looking down, he gapes at just how far the floor seems, what once was easy to spot difficult to pick out even with his bird vision. “We need a bigger area anyways,”

“Now that’s more like it,” TIbarn laughs, his booming raucous laughter as if shaking the very air. Catching the sound of flapping, he grins and turns to the oncoming laguz. Already flying high, they barely reach the height of his abdomen. Tibarn fondles his abs, gloating at the show he offers. “I’m sure the Beorc will think twice about a second attempt on us,”

“Sure sure,” Naesala sighs. Perhaps he may have gone a tad bit too overboard with this whole mess. Glancing over at Tibarn’s proud form, Naesala reconsiders that line of thought.

[angryrabbit42]

Bonus Tracks

Here it is, my DW Secret Santa offering for @a-rose-by-any-other-doctor  @dwsecretsanta Merry Doctor-y Christmas!

I went overboard, friend. It’s going to be 5 parts and multiple Doctors.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21925084/chapters/52330858

Chapter 1 - Remixed

NORWAY - BLOODY STUPID COLD BAD WOLF DAY

He looked so like Him.

Rose sat back, up against the headboard in a small room in Norway. She had managed a quick shower in the cold en suite, cursing the entire time. Her armor had been peeled off and dropped to the floor in puddles of blue, black, and magenta. She didn’t need it anymore tonight. The universe was saved. Dressed in a thin set of pajamas, she watched the new Doctor, her single-hearted Doctor buzzing about. A fire was burning merrily in the fireplace thanks to his industry, backlighting everything with a soft red-gold glow. She was the opposite of energetic yet comforted by his quick movements. He had always been manic. Normal. He was behaving normally.

Rose wasn’t sure if she was...behaving normally. Exhaustion thrummed threw every muscle, every pore, even the marrow in Rose’s bones felt heavy with exhaustion, the languid weight that held her pinned to the double bed. The only bed in the room. A bed that they were going to share… She and he were going to share. An alcoholic like warmth rushed through her at the thought. It had been ages since she’d shared a bed with anyone. And he wasn’t just anyone… He was the Doctor even if he was down a heart, he still had the gob and a pert little bottom.. Rose smiled softly. He mirrored it, eyes lit with something akin to wonder. Yep. Definitely sharing a bed with that one...if he ever stopped moving. Currently, he was pulling odd and ends out of his pockets. Rose arched a brow at the tiny plastic dinosaur that appeared in his hand like magic. He winked and added the tiny green toy to the mounting pile.

Rose’s mind drifted back to earlier. The beach had been cold, freezing even. The Tardis had left them there shivering. And if that wasn’t the best thing ever, the sky waited just long enough for the other Doctor to break her heart to open up and unleash a storm. Rose had instantly known how Sarah Jane had felt in Aberdeen. The crushing depression threatened to overwhelm her until the meta crisis had become her anchor with his hot slightly more human hand. Rose had kept slipping her gaze to his long, lanky, familiar, form. Every third time he caught her looking. His expression had been hard to read. He had either been smug or terrified or both. Rose had squeezed his hand to reassure one of them, either of them.

Mum had tried hard to get Pete to turn up with hoppers but Pete Tyler was adamant that the weather rolling in (icy rain with a hint of hail) would screw with them and the Doctor had made a face that Rose took as agreement. The trio had trudged off the beach to the small bed and breakfast that Rose had been hoping was going to be nothing but a bad memory. The cozy place filled her with dread. She flashed on the memory of being alone in a room, knowing the Doctor wasn’t coming to save her.

The Doctor had squeezed her hand. Rose had squeezed back. It was a whole conversation. He told her she wasn’t alone. She told him he wasn’t either. They had grinned. Jackie had rolled her eyes and handed them one single key. The Doctor’s eyebrows went up. Jackie rolled her eyes before leaving them blessedly alone.

“Alright?” Rose had asked.

“Yeah, yes, yes of course,” he had agreed happily. The Doctor had given her a bright boyish grin when she pressed the key into his palm. “Can’t say I want you out of my sight for oh a week.”

“A fortnight at least,” Rose had agreed, devouring each little Doctorish inch of him. His hand in hers was not as hot as a human hand, not as cool as a time lord one. He squeezed and she squeezed back, a hysterical giggle escaping her.

The pile was growing. He was on the bed now, opposite her, muttering. “That’s useful,” he said putting what looked like a small deck of cards onto the bed. There was already a cricket ball, string, two bananas, two sonic screwdrivers, one the normal one and an older model that looked like something a regular little ‘D’ doctor would check your ears with. No less than three rubber ducks appeared. A bar of soap that she recognized as her favorite from that little pink planet was dropped next to three unlimited credit sticks, a pile of largish diamonds, a box that said, ‘useful things’ in the Doctor’s loose loopy scrawl, and a pair of her hoop earrings. Rose swiped the soap and her earrings. A small protest escaped him as she deposited them onto her nightstand.

“What on Earth are you looking for in there?” Rose asked, letting her body sink back down into the bed, comfy.

Large brown eyes met hers, a worried frown appearing between his eyes. “I took it. I know I did! I slipped it in one of the pockets. I was too busy with other things to remember which… It’s important… for us,” he said cryptically and started rummaging again.

“We need sleep,” Rose suggested, patting the space beside her.

“Oh,” he paused. “Am I going to need regular sleep now? Like every night now? Woof.” He made a face, prompting a laugh.

“No more superior biology,” she sang.

He scoffed. “Half-human, not even, one-quarter human, Rose. Full of superior body bits. Still all superior biology brains,” he muttered as he rummaged. It was making her mental. “We can figure out my sleeping needs later. Soon as I… Nope.” He dumped a package of crisps into her waiting hands. She opened them and nibbled on them. The bite of vinegar made her grin. He kept on. “I need to make sure. Promise it’s worth it,” he added with a wink.

“Did you leave the… other? Doctor with anything?” Rose asked, careful not to call him anything stupid like ‘original’ or ‘real’ when this Doctor was too Doctory not to be THE Doctor. She did feel a pang of sadness for him, shoving it violently away since that Doctor had left her, er, them behind. She hoped he was happy with his choice. She’d never stop loving him. She didn’t think there was a version of the Doctor out there in the universe that she didn’t or wouldn’t love given half a chance.

“Nope!” he exclaimed. “I got all the good stuff and the best bit.”

“What’s the best bit?” Rose asked, sticking her tongue between her teeth to grin at him.

He beamed, eyes twinkling. They watched each other for a few moments reveling in being together again. Rose wondered if he was thinking about that kiss on the beach as much as she was. A pink tinge hit his cheeks and he averted his gaze back to his pockets. Oh yeah, he was thinking about it.

Rose got up on her knees. “What are we looking for?”

“Surprise, a surprise, it’s probably at the bottom. The best bits are always at the bottom. Prizes in the cereal box, Crackerjacks, jam on most Festoonian desserts… Or in the other pocket. Ow!” He hissed pulling his fingers loose and shaking off a mousetrap.

Laughing, Rose slid into his personal space. His scent was strong and familiar if mixed a bit with wet wool, and burnt electronics. The Doctor held his breath, watching her get closer. He swallowed convulsively. Rose winked, shoving her hand into the opposite pocket, leaning heavily against him. Her fingers were in what felt like Space. His pocket was chilly and massive and things were floating. He grabbed her arm to steady her. She felt for anything interesting. Her fingers gripped something twice but it felt like a fish and wriggled away. The Doctor had wrapped both arms around her, to balance her.

A weird singing seemed to be humming in the back of her mind. She concentrated on it, opening her hand wide and willing things to come to hand. Something scratchy and warm slipped by. Rose thought it might have been what the Doctor wanted. Reaching again, thinking about the scratchy texture, Rose was surprised when a thick envelope smacked into her palm. She gripped it, pulling it free of his pocket. “This it?”

Rose held up the thick cream envelope. The Doctor’s brows rose in surprise. Keeping one arm wrapped around her, effectively holding her in a half hug, he plucked it from her fingers and turned it over. Swirls like clocks and dots and weird circles with bites out of them decorated the envelope in blue ink. Rose could still hear the singing as he gripped her. It changed and flipped around a bit and Rose got the feeling of intense curiosity pulsing just under his skin. “What is it?”

“No idea,” he replied. “I don’t recall ever seeing this before,” he said, indicating the circles. She had seen them on notes around the Tardis before or on the console. “It’s for you,” he drawled, dragging the words out like taffy.

“How do you know it’s for me?” Rose asked, taking the envelope back.

He shrugged, “It’s my handwriting. I think I can read my own handwriting.”

“What does it say?” Rose asked, eying the swirls.

“Give this to Rose.”

“Oh,” she remarked.

“Oh,” he agreed.

“So, this wasn’t what you were looking for then?” Rose gathered as she moved away from him, to lean against the headboard once more.

The Doctor shook his head no, eyes blazing with curiosity.

“Should I open it? D’you think?” Rose thought it felt thick. Was it a letter from the other Doctor?

“Up to you,” he replied as he swept most of the debris from his pockets off the bed. He kept the box of useful things, the bananas, and the sonic screwdrivers. He then sat cross-legged in front of her. “Could be a message from me. Him me… Not me, me.”

“Would that bother you?” she asked, frowning.

He looked away. “Nah. Open it.”

Rose opened the envelope. It was a letter. Rose unfolded the paper carefully. The Doctor’s loopy scrawl appeared in the same blue ink as the clockwork language.

“Hand the first page to me,” the letter said and under that was his language. A message for him from Him. Wordlessly, she handed it to him. He took it, left brow at maximum arch. He scanned his page, eyes widening in surprise.

“What does it say?” Rose asked.

He waved her off. “Keep reading yours.”

The second page began, “Rose Marion Tyler, I once told you that I was a bit lost until you found me. Now it’s your turn to recover something that was lost. It’s up to you whether you want to know what I know. What you’ve forgotten… You may find at this exact point in time that you are thoroughly done with me. This me, not that me sitting across from you, the lucky sod.”

“I took these memories from you to preserve a few timelines. Want them back? Tell that grinning idiot across from you, ‘yes.’ He’ll know what to do. Also, tell him that it’s in the left-hand pocket but best wait until tomorrow for that. Let him stew in anxiety for a bit. He gets the happy ending. Let me enjoy his discomfort, even though I don’t deserve even that small pleasure from you.”

“Rose,” the Doctor’s voice was soft, “when we erm when we were touching earlier, could you feel me? Not my skin obviously or my jacket… Me. My,” he scratched at his sideburn, “mind? Just now… just then.”

Rose bit her lip. Was this the question the other Doctor was referring to? “Yes, um, yeah I think so. It was like singing or humming like in the Tardis.”

A magnificent grin lit up the Doctor’s face. “Oh, that’s--that’s brilliant, top-notch, really that’s…” he let out a boyish giggle. “Great. Good. Still telepathic then. Okay,” he glanced down at the paper.

“What does it say?” Rose asked. “No hang on, what does that mean? Still telepathic?”

“Oh, erm, I wasn’t sure. Some of my senses are still adjusting to this universe and this body. Still fizzing a bit. S’good though means that this,” he held up the paper with its clockwork language, “is a block list.”

Rose’s exhausted brain just fizzled out. “What-?”

Excitement made the Doctor crawl closer to her. “A block list. These words unlock memory blocks. Like keys. Say them in the right place, say the mindscape where they were generated and bam! Unlocked memories! We have blocked memories. Brilliant! We have more memories of us! Who wouldn’t want more memories of us! I love memories of us, honestly, the ones without you are a bit rubbish. This is like the DVD extras of our life! Do you want them?”

“What-?” Rose asked again.

“Do you want them?” The Doctor huffed. “Our new old memories, Rose,” he whined. “Don’t you want to know what they are? Don’t you want the bonus footage?” He reached out and grabbed her hands swinging them out and in. Tingling pings of happiness were slipping into her skin and shooting pink happy sparks into her heart. When she didn’t answer the pinks turned a bit blue.

“Is that a no?” He let her hands go.

“Wait, I’m tired, and a bit slow here. You’ve erased some of my memories?”

“I haven’t erased anything,” the Doctor exclaimed, insulted. “I would never. That’s incredibly… Never, I would never.” He caught her gaze, holding it, “Not unless the memories meant your death. It’s not done, Rose. That’s never--”

“Blocked then,” Rose said, laying a soothing arm on his shoulders, dragging it up and down.

“Temporarily blocked to prevent paradoxes, probably?” he popped all the ‘p’s and Rose suddenly remembered that she often wanted to strangle him when he got like this. Then laughed because she had missed that feeling and half-forgotten it, buried under other better memories. “What?”

“Jus’ I forgot how exasperating you are,” she exclaimed, suffusing it with fondness.

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

“Do you have to,” she tapped her head.

He nodded, frowning. “Don’t you want me to?”

“Not opposed to it,” Rose said, mulling it over. Her brain was too mushy for all this.

“Yes? Or no. Your choice.” the Doctor said, practically vibrating with interest.

Rose pulled him into a hug. “Yes. As long as I can stay very still.”

“Oh, yes, yeah that would be optimal, actually. Here-”

The Doctor spun them so he was leaning against the headboard. He draped her across his lap, placing a pillow there to cushion her head. Rose was dizzy with how fast she had been rearranged. The Doctor was surprisingly comfy for someone so bony. She kept that thought to herself, grinning as he finger-combed her hair. Rose resisted the urge to purr as warm fingers settled along her temples. A strange staticky buzzing surrounded her thoughts.

“Alright?” he asked.

Rose grounded herself in the static and little pings of colors and emotions seemed to be buried in it like when she was a kid and the TV fuzzed. “Yeah, yes, go ahead.”

The buzzing smoothed into the edges of her mind. Energy flickered through her in warm spikes and swirls. It was as if she could feel him sinking his fingers down through the skin of her face and down into the bones and past that into the grey matter of her brain. Once there, colors burst into existence and bright feelings of affection. Rose’s own thoughts were lazy with exhaustion and overwhelmed with processing the last few days. She managed a friendly wave for him.

A soothing pulse raced through her. Rose felt her limbs respond by releasing tension. His voice in her head was low and warm. “Here we go. I’ve found the blocks.”

“What do they look like?” Rose asked.

“Like jelly babies,” he remarked. “This is definitely me. I did this. I can undo this.”

“How?”

“One by one with a magic word,” the Doctor said whimsically.

“Open sesame?” Rose offered.

Gently the feeling of mirth suffused her. Rose felt her body relax farther into his. The scent of peppermint and hot chocolate rose around her. The edges of the golden snitch were already cracking and the Doctor whispered the first word into her mind.

[megashadowdragon]

 (the person who wrote what was put below ) : eva-nine-has-a-sonic-rifle . tumblr . com/185806080409/a-lovely-thing-to-wake-up-to-part-2-the-ozpinning

*slams bookbag on table and sighs*

Do you have 90 minutes and an innate need to read bullshit that makes you want to gouge your own eyes out? I do, apparently. And dear, sweet, reasonable sir-adamus has been ever-so-kind as to feed the dark abyss that is my eternal smoldering wrath again. You know, adamus, the idiot who insists on making posts on Ozpin despite having the knowledge depth of a puddle about him. *cracks knuckles* Buckle up bitches. We’re doing this song and dance again.

“like, i’ve made a joke about how even Oz’s defenses of why he lies also being lies before, almost everything he has fucking said, even when there’s no reason to, has been a lie like, take for example, how he describes his reincarnation:

‘For thousands of years, I’ve walked the surface of Remnant, living, dying, and reincarnating in the body of a like-minded soul. The Professor Ozpin you all met was not my first form and clearly wasn’t my last. It’s… an extraordinarily strenuous process on everyone involved. […] I am the combination of countless men who’ve spent their lives trying to protect the people of Remnant. With every rebirth, my soul is eventually merged with another and I am changed, but my memories stay with me. This curse was bestowed upon me by the gods because I failed to stop Salem in the past. But we must stop her now.’

like, just ignoring the last two sentences (because ho boy was that all a fucking lie) - “I am the combination of countless men who’ve spent their lives trying to protect the people of Remnant. With every rebirth, my soul is eventually merged with another and I am changed, but my memories stay with me.” This. Is. A. Lie.there’s no merging, there’s no ‘combination’, he’s not some gestalt consciousness, he’s Ozma and the poor sap who is no longer the property owner of their own grey matter how do we know this? because the backstory shows us this”

Oh wow, we are off to a… FANTASTIC start.

The first part of what Ozpin says (from “For thousands of years…” to “…strenuous process on everyone involved. […]”) is true. We saw primary examples of Ozpin going through his incarnations accelerated over the course of gods-know-how-many-years. But since Adamus focuses on the second half I assume the inclusion of this was for context’s sake.

It is important to establish that the picture Ozpin gives us of how his merging process actually works is extremely vague. We know eventually his soul and his host’s merge, there is a change to the core soul as a result of that, and he remembers all of his past lives when he is in the next host. That’s all. We don’t know the degree that the core soul is changed, we don’t know HOW the merge affects Ozpin and the host, we don’t know if they become one with equal traits from both consciousness or if one soul becomes the dominant soul with traits of the other or if its something else.

Adamus assumes that they know the degree of the merge, despite as I said Ozpin being VAGUE, and deliberately ignores things like Oscar adopting Ozpin’s muscle memory and fighting skills. Or even this: “(to Oscar) I understand how you’re feeling. I went through the same panic and confusion” - Volume 4, Chapter 6: Punished

This can’t be referring to his first incarnation, in which he was indeed panicked and confused, but for different reasons, NOT because of a sudden voice in his head. Only his host would have had “the same panic and confusion” as Oscar had and Ozpin says HE went through that as well. That firsthand experience must have come from the host, which must be a part of Ozpin if he is referring to it AS firsthand experience.

Oh, but don’t worry, Adamus is going to try and use The Lost Fable to justify their assumptions, and considering how they think Salem is not an abuser, my confidence in their interpretations of this episode are eroded to the bone.

“when he wakes up in his first reincarnation, he’s just Ozma in a new body and acts such - the poor guy who had his consciousness suppressed hardly makes a peep for the remainder of his life (Ozma never even learned his name)”

1. Yeah, because he says his soul is EVENTUALLY merged with his hosts. It’s not instantaneous, so at the beginning, he really is just Ozpin shoved into another person’s body.

2. Ozma was under the assumption the body had no prior occupant, considering he overrode the previous occupant’s control by accident.

Also, more evidence for the merge: When the original person DOES choose to make a peep, its to say “What are we doing?”. Not “What are you doing?”, “What are WE doing?”. The original occupant’s wording is inclusionary, not quite as much as first person, but as if he and Ozma are cooperative (maybe not consciously given Ozma’s surprise at the voice) at some level.

“and we’re outright told by Jinn that this was Ozma’s MO with all his bodies until very recently:”

Not very recently given he’s learned to coexist with his hosts by the time Dadpin is his host and Dadpin was alive prior to the Great War and there are at least 2 incarnations between him and Beacon Academy Ozpin (The Inquisitor who asked Jinn The Question and the Last King of Vale) and there is an undetermined amount of time between the Inquisitor and the Last King of Vale.

“’Thus began a long and painful cycle of death and rebirth for Ozma. Some lives were spent in mourning, many were spent attempting to forget it all. But no matter what, his mind would eventually turn back to the task he had been burdened with. And as the centuries went on, Ozma began to learn the importance of living with the souls with which he had been paired.’

Ozma is treated as a throughline and the bodies he lives and discards are an afterthought, there’s no indication of a mingling of consciousness,”

Because half these incarnations we saw as a montage and never even saw what they were like, so there can’t be an indication of a mingling. For all we know, Ozma sat in the back of their minds and just watched shit unfold.

“no actual proof that these people were ‘like-minded souls’ because he never gave a lot of them a chance to live their lives once he moved in”

And we have no actual proof they weren’t like-minded souls when he did. Given the theming of the montage we did see of his incarnations (Darkness, misery, and drinking —> Light, moving forward), it is actually supported that they are like-minded souls given Ozma’s mental state at the time.

“and the later ones were only allowed to operate semi-independently out of courtesy (and i’m sure in no small part to Ozma becoming aware that while he can jack control pretty much whenever he wants, he no longer has the power to fight them off if they try the same), and none of them have a choice but to do what Oz wants or he’ll just take over and do it anyway - again, Oz only likes to offer the illusion of choice, not real ones”

Adamus: Ozpin can take control whenever he wants but plays the cooperative game because he’s aware he doesn’t have the power to keep control if the host fights for it.

Also Adamus: The host has no choice but to do what Ozpin wants because he’d just take over and do it anyway. Never mind that I just said that Ozpin can’t keep control if the host decides to fight him for it and we’ve seen that keeping control for strenuous periods like fighting in the Battle for Haven tires him out enough to take a backseat, or that if what I said was true then The Lost Fable wouldn’t exist as an episode because that was Ozpin at his most desperate and Oscar still managed to fend him off. The smoke I blow out of my ass made my eyes water.

“so it was a bunch of bullshit malarkey to garner sympathy, offer false hope to Oscar (because Oz is real good at piling that on) and continue to keep everyone in the dark about what’s really going on because he’s fully intent on leading them to their deaths for no real gain other than it’ll make him feel better about himself”

So, that was a bunch of misinterpreted bullshit by the Resident Ozpin Expert Adamus who continues to show they’re not qualified for this job by closing off with Ozpin is leading them to their deaths despite Ozpin having no intent to confront Salem because we’ve seen that is an exercise in futility. As if somehow watching everyone die would do wonders for Ozpin’s mental state.

But they seem to be under the impression that Ozpin is a compulsive liar, which he isn’t. He lies more than is beneficial to him, that much is certain, but he always has a reason for each lie he tells. Lying about the merge serves zero purpose, even in hindsight. If anything, it’s openly to his detriment because it would make Oscar more anxious and reluctant to trust him. Unless a possible reason for him to lie about the merge being a thing exists, he isn’t lying about it. It just wouldn’t make sense.

[primadonna-girl-yeah]

The Top 5 Reasons We Love Retro Gaming

1. Games Were Simpler Back In The Day

Computer games have undeniably gotten progressively aggressive and amazing as of late. At the point when you take a gander at any semblance of The Last Of Us, it's difficult to exaggerate exactly how far computer games have come since individuals were playing Pong forty-odd years prior. Be that as it may, for every one of the advancements inside the medium, and for all the brand new thoughts and progressively expand control conspires, there's undeniable value in the amount all the more straight forward things were in the games we played as children.

Gaming today can be hard for individuals without the muscle memory that originates from long periods of committed gaming. Give your mum or father a PS4 controller and in the event that they're in any way similar to mine, they'll invest a large portion of the energy playing the game looking down, endeavoring futile to recollect where every one of the catches is. Utilize the left simple stick to walk, hold X to run, or tap X to run. L2 is point and R2 is shoot, yet R1 becomes shoot in case you're driving on the grounds that in a vehicle R2 is the quickening agent. R3 (that is the point at which you click in the correct simple stick) allows you to look behind you, and to open the menu you have to hold down the touch cushion. Furthermore, that is simply part of the control conspire for Grand Theft Auto 5, extraordinary compared to other selling games, time.

In any event, for prepared veterans, the expanding multifaceted nature of games can turn into a mood killer. Super Mario World is still as instinctive as it returns in 1990 on the grounds that the innately basic structure and get and play nature of the game made it ageless. You can give a child who's never played a Mario game the controller and inside seconds they'll have turned out how to play. This effortlessness is an alluring idea, which is a very likely a piece of the explanation that retro games like Shovel Knight and Axiom Verge are so mainstream today. The more straightforward a game is to play, the more comprehensive and quick the good times. Retro gaming possesses a great deal of that, and that is the explanation despite everything I'm playing Super Mario World twenty-six years after discharge.

2. Retro Games Have Better Music

As gaming generation esteems have expanded throughout the years, we've seen the medium change from numerous points of view. We made the bounce to 3D, we presently have voice acting, and expand cut-scenes recount to muddled stories that adversary those found in TV or on the big screen. Games today include completely organized scores or soundtracks highlighting mainstream music that are just as great as what we'd see in different mediums, yet it feels like we've lost something en route, as well.

I can in any case murmur the signature music to Treasure Island Dizzy on the Commodore 64. I was playing that game about thirty years prior and I haven't played it from that point forward (I've still never beaten it, damn it) however I can even now recollect the signature music that plays out of sight completely. I messed around a week ago and I couldn't let you know whether they had music by any means.

As a result of the straightforwardness of early games, and without voice acting to recount to a story, the music must be great. Other than a couple of terrible audio effects, the music of the game was the main aural incitement that the games gave. There are as yet incredible game soundtracks today, yet they appear to be rare when contrasted with the rounds of my childhood. Uber Man, Castlevania, the early Final Fantasy games, and notorious titles like Zelda, Mario and Sonic the Hedgehog - these all included exceptionally essential tunes that stick with us long after the last time we played them. Regardless I recollect how the music for Commodore 64 exemplary Prince Clumsy changes when you spare the princess toward the finish of the game like I was playing it yesterday. We can't generally say that regarding Shadow of Mordor, can we?

3. Games Used to Work Right Out of the Box

One thing that games from days of old irrefutably showed improvement over the rounds of today is that they, well, worked. You'd imagine that it ought to be an entirely principal part of any item discharged to the market, yet it's genuinely amazing what number of games in 2016 ship broken, requiring either days or long stretches of server changes to get the multiplayer working, or gigantic the very first moment patches to fix the entirety of the bugs that made it onto the circle. Today, on the off chance that you don't have an OK Internet association in your home, a few games are really unplayable, and numerous others seriously hampered.

Road Fighter V discharged recently, with Capcom promising that the single-player Arcade Mode, a staple of the arrangement, would be accessible to download in July. Consider the possibility that you don't have an Internet association. All things considered, at that point, you have a large portion of a game. That is not an issue we confronted when Street Fighter II discharged on the SNES in 1991. In those days, we had no Internet going about as a wellbeing net for engineers. Games needed to work directly out of the crate.

Returning and playing Global Gladiators today is as straightforward as popping the cartridge into your Genesis and turning on the power. It works now as it did at that point; precisely as it should, and with no object. This is a numerous extraordinary aspect concerning retro gaming; in the event that you have the game and the equipment, you're practically great to go. You don't have to download drivers, or updates, or fixes. You put in the game, and afterward you play. Much the same as you should.

4. Games Used to Be More of a Challenge

Today, anyone who stays up with the latest with the most recent patterns in gaming will probably know about Dark Souls and Bloodborne, and the notoriety these games have for rebuffing trouble. Gamers rushed to the Souls arrangement in large numbers, eager to play a title that tested them and would not hold their hands. There are no all-inclusive instructional exercise segments. There's little in the method for help. You can't delay it. What's more, every foe can make mincemeat out of you except if you gain proficiency with their assault examples and act in like manner. It's energizing for a game to furnish us with a daunting task this way, however, at that point, I'm mature enough to recall when each game was this way. What's more, more terrible.

Present-day games tend to illuminate things to the player, regularly to a practically offending degree. Popping a plate into a PS4 in 2016 methods hanging tight for the introduce, at that point the very first-moment fix, and afterward when you at long last get a controller in your grasp you go through the following two hours being strolled through the beginning periods of the game like a child on his first day of school. Everyone prefers a touch of help from time to time, yet there's undeniable value in simply being tossed in at the profound end and being advised to do or die.

5. Sentimentality

Sentimentality may appear to be a cop-out the answer; all things considered, thinking back on the past with rose-tinted displays is frequently what enthusiasts of anything retro is scrutinized with. It's anything but difficult to reject sentimentality as a method for advocating the conclusion that everything was simply much better in your day, yet truly wistfulness is a colossally amazing specialist and it shouldn't be overlooked.

Today, we watch refuse motion pictures and weep over the utilization of evident CGI, however, we'll joyfully endure Raiders of the Lost Ark and not try referencing that the liquefying Nazi toward the end resembles he's made out of plasticine. We tune in to the shocking popular music of our young people with an intelligent grin on our countenances while looking down on Justin Bieber's most recent video. What's more, we'll talk about Final Fantasy VII just as it was second happening to Christ, totally overlooking the entirety of the blemishes in the game that we'd hang an advanced game out to dry for. Sentimentality is a sufficient impact to cause us to accept that Sonic the Hedgehog was very great. Presently, that is not kidding.

The explanation a great deal of us like playing old games is essentially a result of the inclination we get playing them. I've played hundreds, if not a large number of games in my time as a gamer. What's more, I'm sufficiently keen to realize that in that time computer games have improved in pretty much every manner. In any case, that doesn't change the way that on the off chance that I load up Street Fighter II I recollect the times of playing it during the school summer occasions with every one of my companions. I recollect the day I finished Toejam and Earl with my sibling each time I hear the initial barely any bars of its ludicrously astounding signature music. Furthermore, I recall the overjoyed rushes we got when we initially got the fatalities chipping away at Mortal Kombat II.

Playing old games, similarly likewise with watching old films or tuning in to old collections, transports us to a period in the past that we like to recall. Regardless of whether its recollections of old companions, friends, and family, individuals we may see each day or might have put some distance between, each old game we load up is a window to the past and that is unique. The most recent Call of Duty is never going to rival that.

[dolphinitley]

Jacob Seed/F!Dep Fic

“Love Like Revenge” Chapter 8

AO3

Word count: 1,648

Warnings: PTSD symptoms

I felt like calling Em "Rook" in this chapter. Got some fluffy stuff plus anxiety when the nukes drop. 

Tagging @johnseedsplane @colorguardian18 for last line meme. Also general tag: @theeonlyroman @flyawayturtle @angrylittlebean @liilaac @they-are-not-just-stories @zacklover24

Thanks for reading and plz comment :D

Rook and her big orange cat Tommy sat on the couch and watched a movie she thought might make her feel better, but her mind was still on Jacob. His 1911 was in a dresser drawer in her bedroom.

This morning, he left to deal with things at St. Francis, which reminded Rook that he was still protecting his brother’s cult. He purposely left the 1911 at her house, along with some clothes that accumulated there over the past few weeks.

As he kissed her goodbye, he could tell that she was mildly upset.  They both were becoming addicted, which they thought made them vulnerable purely because of the longing they felt when they were apart. But maybe, she thought, if they were always together, they could make each other stronger, and protect one another.

Rook felt sour. Her PTSD symptoms were flaring up at the thought of St. Francis. She needed to make peace with this if she was going to be with him.

She took some sleeping meds and passed out hard on the couch.

A few hours later Rook woke up to Tommy’s loud crying meows and paws pushing on her chest.

She was groggy and confused at the dim brightness outside. It wasn’t the sunset. It was fire half a mile away. The sound of a sonic boom assaulted her ears.

Was it a dream? No. This is it, she thought. It was surreal. The nukes had finally dropped.

Rook stared at Tommy for several moments, thinking about what she needed to do now.

There was nothing she could do for Honey, except open her gate and hope she’d run until finding a safe spot.

Within 10 minutes she had most of her favorite possessions in her bunker.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Jacob, even though she knew he’d be safe in his own bunker. She thought of her family. She cried at the change that was coming. She felt she could not handle it.

While making her last run to the bunker, with her cat in her arms, Jacob’s truck sped up her driveway and skidded to a halt, tires throwing gravel and dust.

A wave of relief washed over her. Here was her rock. He was what she needed. She ran to him and squished Tommy between them in a hug. Jacob kissed the top of her head and noted the tears on her cheeks.

Jacob took a step back and held her shoulders, looking in her eyes intently.

“We need to hurry,” he said with a nod.

Rook responded with a weak nod and followed him throwing duffel bags down into her bunker. She wondered why he was here and why he was putting his things in her bunker.

Now she was in a full blown panic attack and needed to get to safety. Her breathing was too fast and erratic.The fire was growing too close for comfort.

“Rook!” Jacob yelled. His voice was a little dulled by the sound of falling trees and other thunderous booms.

Rook felt frozen. She was looking at her body from outside herself. All of her feelings swirled and crashed in her mind. Why did I kill all those people? Why aren’t I with my family? Why am I so close with Jacob? How can I-

Her panicked doubts were interrupted by Jacob’s protective arms and chest. He rushed her down to the bunker and locked the steel doors. It was so quiet in this bunker. The sounds outside were barely audible.

Jacob was dripping with sweat and soot in his effort to get to her. Stupid. He thought to himself. Why’d I fucking leave her. If he had been with her when the first bomb hit, he could have taken her to his stronger bunker. He doubted she’d like living with Peggies very much anyway. Doesn’t matter. This is where we’re at now.

Rook let Tommy jump to the ground and explore the bunker. Her eyes were distant.

“Honey,” Jacob was trying to get through to her. “I know. I know you need rest but we have to get these clothes off and get clean before anything else.” He was as calm as ever.

Jacob went to the bunker’s bathroom and started the shower. He led her to it and undressed the both of them.

The last thing Rook’s anxiety needed right now was someone touching her naked body. But with him it wasn’t what she expected. With him she felt safe and cared for. Jacob stayed focused and efficient, quickly finding soap and towels. He was gentle and did his best not to trigger her.

Rook stared at the tile shower floor, soot mixing with water and going down the drain. She breathed with intention, focusing on the feeling of hot water on her skin.

Jacob’s strong fingers kneaded and scrubbed her hair and scalp. It felt good. He rubbed with soapy hands down her neck and shoulders, arms, torso, and he knelt to wash her legs. He rested his forehead against the side of her thigh. A squeeze of her heel lifted her foot to allow him to clean it.

After Rook was clean, she watched Jacob clean his own body. She leaned against the shower wall and her eyes wandered over the muscles, freckles, hair, and scars. She reached a hand out to brush against his chest.

Jacob put down the soap and took her in his arms. They stood there for half a minute, until Jacob planted a kiss on her forehead and turned off the shower.

Water dripped from their bodies when they stepped out. Jacob dried her off first with a soft towel, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

He shook a towel over his red hair, and tucked it around his waist. Jacob took momentary glances at her while he dug through his clothing duffel and dressed in gray sweatpants and a soft blue t shirt.

Rook put on multiple layers of the most comfortable clothing she had in the bunker.

They got into bed and she got close to him, gladly accepting the heat his body offered. The bombs were still dropping and he held her loosely. She took another pill. She figured now was a worthy time to take one of her limited supply. They fell asleep, to escape the sounds of end for just a few hours.

As she fell asleep, she couldn’t help but think about why she was in Montana in the first place, and why she wasn’t with her family.

When she left Dutch’s bunker after he rescued her from the river, she could have laid low. She could have taken out just one roadblock and gone home. Would it really have worked? She has a feeling she would have been caught by the Seeds anyway. Better to be a fighter than a prisoner, right?

Rook figured she gave up her right to respect and fair treatment after her first unnecessary kill. The first kill that was not out of self defense, or to stop someone else from coming to immediate harm, or saving a hostage. Her first sniper kill. She was 150 meters away. It was a headshot. An Eden’s Gate soldier at Boomer’s house. She knew that the soldier had some part in murdering and torturing for the cult. It didn’t stop her momentary emotional lapse in the orchard. She started crying, and tried the hardest she’d ever tried in her life to stop crying. She could see the sudden blood on the Peggie’s forehead where there formerly was none.

Her last preemptive kill was one of Jacob’s men. She sniped them near a radio tower. Where’s the adrenaline? She thought. She worried why she wasn’t feeling adrenaline after killing a person. At that point she’d become an efficient killing machine. She pushed her bad feelings down, down, down, to deal with later.

She was dreaming about the gore. She knew she was dreaming about it and in her head she tried to jerk herself awake.

It must have worked enough to prompt Jacob to gently shake her awake.

“Honey,” he said with a sleepy and raspy voice. He gently stroked her shoulder.

Thank god he’s here.

Rook turned on her side to face him. He was propped up on one elbow, searching her face for anything.

She stared back at him and grounded herself. She slowly pulled her mind away from the dream and into the warm bed, with Jacob next to her.

So handsome.

Jacob chuckled. She must’ve said that out loud.

Rook placed the responsibility of distancing Jacob from the cult on her shoulders, even though he did physically distance himself from them in a major way, and by his own choice. He was still close to them by association in her mind.

“You’ve gotta tell me what you’re thinkin, Babe,” he said.

Babe.

It took her half a minute to build up courage to speak about it.

“I had a dream about killing a...Peggie.”

“Yeah?” He tried to sound encouraging. He needed her to be open with him.

“And the memory of that eventually connects to you.”

“That’s right.”

“It makes me confused. Because I like you so much. And I hate the cult so much.”

Jacob huffed a soft laugh. “I don’t like em all that much either. And I know you’re mad about the things I’ve done.”

Rook exhaled. She was in relief that he wasn’t actually upset or irrational.  Not even in a backhanded way. Bad behavior is what she came to expect from most people. He was always the image of composure.

Rook placed her small hand on his cheek and said quietly, “I missed you while you were gone.” Rook would have said, “today” at the end, but she felt like she’d missed him all her life.

“I missed you too.” It was a warm whisper from him.

[eottoghe]

Little Boxes - Twelve

A Jeonghceol Domestic AU where they live in suburbia with their six year old son Chan. Jeonghan is an active member of the PTA, a soccer dad and chauffeur, and a supportive parent all around. His loving husband cares deeply for his passions and will follow him to the end of the world if it keeps him and his family happy. Follow their journey as they get caught up in fun and zany adventures when they fall outside of the guide lines of your average neighbor. Don’t really know where I’m going with this, but I want to see how many different domestic prompts I can get out of this AU before I run out of steam.

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

NOTE: This is long af. My bad

Jeonghan, swathed in plum tinted sheets, sinks deep into his fort of pillows. He makes himself comfortable while waiting for Seungcheol to finish getting ready for bed. His husband takes his time washing his face in the bathroom, making light conversation about his day. Jeonghan starts dosing off every few sentences, startling awake with a distant uh-huh when Seungcheol calls his name.

When the familiar dip in the bed catches his attention, it takes all his strength to pry his heavy eyelids back open. Firm arms enclose around his waist and allow their bodies to curve around each other in a comfortable cradle. Jeonghan breathes in his body wash and nuzzles his face into Seungcheol’s shoulder.

Chan had fallen asleep almost immediately after dinner being absolutely exhausted by the day. Jeonghan made a point not to butt in too much when Chan was explaining the story of his battle wounds to Seungcheol. He wanted to hear his side and didn’t want the story to become about himself. That conversation would come when they’d had time to themselves.

And now was the time.

Jeonghan is the first to move, propping himself back up on his mountain of pillows. Seungcheol gives him some distance by retreating to his side of the bed (yes, they had designated sides although Jeonghan ventured into his territory religiously). Jeonghan breathes in a sharp breath before releasing it in a long, measured sigh. Seungcheol takes that as his cue to prompt him into telling what was on his mind.

“I didn’t want to say it when Chan was in the room, but what happened earlier really bothered me.”

“You know it isn’t your fault—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. That’s not what I’m talking about.” Jeonghan huffs, with a wave of his hand. It was like the scene was playing in front of him all over again and just the thought of it made his anger bubble up, tension building like a migraine growing from the base of his head. Not meaning to have snapped, Jeonghan reaches out to take Seungcheol’s warm hand in his. “I mean… Yes, I’m upset I wasn’t there to prevent it, but I’m also aware that these things happen and that I should give Chan some breathing room. But there was something else…”

“Something else?” His husband raises a skeptical brow.

“I’m not surprised Chan didn’t mention it. He probably didn’t even understand what was really going on.”

“Jeonghan, what are you talking about?” Seungcheol knows his husband is notorious for hyping up his own stories, dragging them on longer than necessary just for the anticipa-

 tion.

  “There was this guy…”

“Can you just tell me what happened?”

“Indulge me a little! It’s no fun if I just tell you.”

“It’s no fun if you don’t.” Laughing, Seungcheol squeezes his husband’s hand to encourage him to go on. “I’m sorry. I’m listening.” His broad smile never leaves.

“I was going to say… there was this guy. The child that pushed Chan? Her parent. Or guardian or whatever the hell he was.”

“What about him?”

“He was unapologetically rude and I wanted to shove him face first into the dirt.”

“Oh?”

“The worst part? I know this person… Sort of.”

“Oh??”

“I’ve met him before and it was not a good encounter. He was an asshole then and is one now and it’s just mind blowing that this type of human can survive in a world like this.” Jeonghan lets the frustration in him grow and grow, remembering every little detail of every single time he felt wronged by the other. Just him breathing irks him.

Seungcheol’s poor hand is being squeezed within an inch of its life, but he tries his best to be the attentive, caring husband Jeonghan needs him to be. Although no words come to him but…

“That’s sucks, babe.” He likes digging his own graves apparently.

“You can sound a little more enthused. It won’t kill you.”

“It just might.” Seungcheol plays dead, sticking his tongue out and rolling his eyes to the back of his head. He should have expected the painful jab to his stomach in response. Jeonghan lets go of his hand (thankfully) and lets his arms cross tightly over his chest instead. “You should have sent him flying. If you run into him again, give me a call and we can take him on together.” Seungcheol sits up languidly, latching his arms back around his husband, leaving tender kisses along his nape, jaw and forehead.

“I love you, asshole.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes but leans into the touch further. “If Chan wasn’t watching, he definitely would have gotten his ass kicked.”

“Sure, babe.”

They turn out the lights and drift to sleep.

 __

 “Hey bud! We’re gonna be late for school!” Seungcheol packs his son’s backpack, only slightly annoyed Chan hadn’t done it the night before like he asked.

They are off to a rocky start this morning. Jeonghan, the true driving force of early morning school duty, is gone already. He’s a freelance photographer (had gotten fed up for paying an arm and a leg for shitty Christmas card photos and decided to do it himself) and booked with some hardass, rich couple to get the best sunrise shots for an engagement announcement.

So, Seungcheol is left with the tedious task of getting Chan up and ready for school. He slept through the alarm Jeonghan set for him being so used to ignoring it in the first place. And every other minute obstacle arises just to spite him. Thankfully Jeonghan had both packed lunch and made breakfast before he left so as soon as Chan is clothed, he scoops him up and tosses places him in the car.

All these streets look exactly the same. It’s a wonder Seungcheol doesn’t get lost more often. If it weren’t for muscle memory, he probably would be trapped in the suburban neighborhood for the rest of eternity.

Despite his best efforts, he still shows up ten minutes too late. The music teacher—the one Chan always says smells like bologna—flags him down to tell him he cannot pull into the drop off lane. He has to sign Chan in. Okay, fine.

It wasn’t fine.

There is a line of around 5-10 other students who need to be signed in and Seungcheol really can’t afford to be late to work. Again. He taps his foot impatiently, glancing at the clutter of people in front of him. How long does it take to write down a name and sign a damn sheet of paper?

“Daddy?” Chan, hand curved around his dad’s larger fingers, tugs him closer. “Are you okay?” He has this saccharine look with his eyes all wide and concerned.

Once Seungcheol realizes his frantic energy is rubbing off on him, he takes extra care to relax. His jittery foot stops tapping and he focuses his full attention on Chan, eyes no longer flitting around the room.

“I’m awesome! Just excited for another day.” And terrified I’ll get caught right in the thick of rush hour traffic. Chan nods, unconvinced.

“Okay.” They take a step forward each time a person disappears from the front of the line. As soon as he gets to the counter, he’s filling out Chan’s name, grade, and the time they got here with sonic speed. The pen markings are barely legible.

He swoops down, landing a quick kiss to Chan’s forehead and wishes him a great day. The child takes off, running to class as quickly as he can manage with his two-sizes-too-big backpack while Seungcheol rushes out the front office.

It’s just Seungcheol’s luck that he ends up running into someone on his way out. Like physically running into them. If the solid mass of a human he knocked into was smaller the force may have knocked them off their feet. But instead, he goes stumbling backward. How embarrassing.

He apologizes like crazy, bowing once and when he comes up, he’s staring into the shocked face of an old classmate.

 “Jang Doyoon?” He asks slightly in disbelief.

“Choi Seungcheol!” The other’s face lights up like he’s… well like he’s greeting a really old friend he hasn’t seen in years.

He sees him holding the hand of a little girl, couldn’t have been much older than his own kid. He gives an inviting wave to her, but she remains passive staring at him like the stranger he is.

“Sera, be nice.” Doyoon scolds the child and she concedes. Waves at Seungcheol, pouting still. “Sorry. She’s not much of a people person. It’s so good to see you though!”

“Definitely, you too. It’s been years! But I’m actually running late for work, so...” Seungcheol nearly forgets he’s trying to beat the traffic to get to his job at least within the grace period given. Seungcheol is doing everything he can to keep his feet planted, but he’s so close to his car, it’s pulling him in. Don’t get him wrong, he really would love to stay and chat, but one red light could lead to his ultimate downfall. In his mind, if he can beat it by one minute, he’s saved.

“I understand that.” He chuckles. “Hey, we should catch up sometime.” Doyoon’s reaching for his pocket, pulling out his phone. Sera is tugging on his hand, urging him to take her in the school.

“Yeah. Of course!” Seungcheol gives his number while the other types it in and with an energetic wave, they see each other off. Wow. What a morning.

 Seungcheol does end up late.

 __

 “How do you just make plans without asking me if I want plans? There was barely any time to get ready.” Of course, Jeonghan does have enough time to get ready, but only physically. Mentally he is still trying to build up the energy to face another human today. As soon as Seungcheol messaged, “Hey I know it’s last minute, but I met up with a friend and he invited us to dinner :D ”, Jeonghan felt his stomach lurch in panic. It catches him off guard and leaves him scrambling. Who is this person? What kind of outfits should they wear? First impressions are everything.

“I know, Hannie. I’m sorry, but he just seemed so excited to meet up and I wanted to show you off a little.” Seungcheol says the last part a little deeper, hushed and sultry like. God, he knows Jeonghan’s weaknesses like the back of his hand.

“I guess that makes it a little better.” Seungcheol’s hands travel to the small of Jeonghan’s back, pulling him in for a tender peck on the lips. “Okay, but next time please give us at least a few hours in advance. I don’t even know where we’re going. What if this person is a serial killer?”

“I can assure you he isn’t. We were actually—”

“I can’t find Bumblebee!” Chan shrieks like a crack of lightning, descending the stairs with thunderous footsteps. “I just had him!”

Seungcheol audibly groans, looking at his watch. “Do you really need him? We’re going to dinner, not a play date.”

“I need Bumblebee!”

“I’ll go help him look.” Jeonghan places a quick kiss to Seungcheol’s lips before allowing Chan to lead him to the last place he saw it.

“It’s gotta be quick bud, we’re running late. I’ll be in the car.” Seungcheol yells behind the crew, grabbing the keys. This whole day he felt like he was running behind. Tonight is no different.

 __

 Seungcheol rings the door bell then takes a polite step backwards. His husband and son are flanking him on either side, the picture-perfect family standing in a proper line.

They wait.

Then wait some more.

There’s no movement on the other side. No shuffling or dog bark or tell-tale sign of human life at all. Seungcheol checks his watch making sure the time is right. He steps forward once again. Rings the doorbell, holding down the button a little longer so the diiiing dooong rings out loud and slow. He steps back. He waits again.

“Are you sure this is the right house?” Jeonghan asks, looking around. They aren’t too far from their own neighborhood, yet somehow this one feels a world away.  For one, the houses have different layouts and designs from each other—completely contradicting the uniformness of his own. The streets don’t all form perfect blocks with perfect right angles. And when you ring the doorbell, people apparently don’t immediately answer. Yes, very different.

“Yeah… I mean unless the GPS was wrong.” Seungcheol scratches the back of his head. He reaches forward once more to try the doorbell again and to his surprise the door swings open. Doyoon is standing there catching his breath.

“Sorry. I was in the bathroom and Sera refused to get the door. I told her we were… having… guests…” Doyoon’s smile drops at the same rate his words peter out. He’s now staring agape at this odd turn of events. Jeonghan is startled as well, jaw slack, truly stunned.

“What are you doing here?” Jeonghan asks dumbly. He looks to Doyoon and then to Seungcheol and back to Doyoon. He’s feeling a strong sense of betrayal. He’d never really mentioned that Doyoon was the person he’d met at the park, nor had he mentioned them knowing each other in college. As far as he knew, Doyoon wasn’t on Seungcheol’s radar. But now he’s claiming to be old friends!

“I live here...” Is what Doyoon replies with. They fall into an intolerable silence shortly after. Jeonghan is looking down at the shoddy “Welcome” mat like it offends him. Doyoon is shifting his feet with an expression Seungcheol can’t really place. Awkward is an understatement.

But Seungcheol is determined to have his old best friend and life partner get along. Instead of plummeting face first into the bottom of a pit, Seungcheol tries to save their sinking ship by saying,

“So you two know each other already?” Though not even his sunshine smile can melt away the icy winter forming between the two.

It was going to be a long night.

 __

 Kids have this wonderful way of getting over grudges: apologizing once, hugging it out, bonding over some animated TV program they both adore. It’s precious how simple their problems seem, how easily they are resolved. Jeonghan is envious that his own life lacks that simplicity.

For the kids, it’s as easy as Sera saying sorry with a shy frown on bow shaped lips and hands clasped nervously behind her back. She is kinda cute when she’s not trying to look so mean. Jeonghan is happy that his kid made up with his bully and that she seems to feel remorse for her actions. Did he fully forgive her for hurting his baby? No. But he’s an adult so he has to be the bigger person.

Well… in that situation. But in facing his own bully, he wasn’t too keen on forgiving and forgetting.

Doyoon didn’t go into the specifics of their encounters, only briefly explaining that they had known each other vaguely during the year he left their university. He completely grazed over it in conversation and something about that irked Jeonghan more than he thought it would. Reading the vibe, Jeonghan was courteous enough not to reveal the extremes of their dynamic at the dinner table. Instead, he nodded and shrugged it off. Oh, he’d have a field day as soon as they made it home!

Seungcheol and Doyoon caught up over small things, big things, all things. Things Jeonghan didn’t understand nor really care to. And it became abundantly clear after the third time Jeonghan tried to add to the conversation that he was out of his element.

Each time he tried to interject, it would casually get cut off or the conversation would die shortly after. So, petty as it may be, Jeonghan decided to sit back with his arms crossed, trying his best to not let his dejection show.

Not that it really mattered. They didn’t seem to notice. Not when he slammed down his chopsticks a little too harshly after Seunghcheol incessantly complimented Doyoon on the delicious dinner, bragging on his cooking skills from “back in the day”. Not when Jeonghan huffed under his breath during a recanting of that one crazy professor they mutually hated their first year of uni together. The kids, oblivious as ever excuse themselves to play with some toys in Sera’s play room and now Jeonghan is alone. He feels like the third wheel even though he’s with HIS husband!

Jeonghan doesn’t understand why its so easy for Seungcheol to get along with him anyway. He can’t even stand to look at his face, let alone cordially communicate with him. Jeonghan leans back into his chair, a bored expression morphing his usually gentle features into a cold, distant glower. It’s not like he can just scream “Hey! Your friend’s an asshole and doesn’t deserve our time!”

Well…

He flicks the thought away no matter how tempting it is. He’s an adult now, not a haughty college student. He’s not that same impulsive 22-year-old, fishing for drama and seeking out spilled tea. He’s not that same kid that would have caused a huge scene and embarrassed Doyoon by calling him out in front of his daughter and throwing some underhand comment about how he’s a bad influence to his own damn kid.

“-han?”

“Huh?” Jeonghan is reeled back in feeling a bit guilty for his mean slew of thoughts.

“Are you okay?” Seungcheol asks. Jeonghan gives a lopsided shrug and tries to be responsive by bringing a bit of color back into his expression. But even he can tell its perceived as forced. He’s honestly never been that good at hiding his emotions.

“I think I know…” Doyoon begins and this does peak Jeonghan’s attention making him sit a little straighter and loosen the tightened cross of his arms. “I… I’ve been meaning to apologize actually.”

Seungcheol draws his thick brows together in a perplexed frown. He licks his lips trying to assess the situation, squinting slightly between the two to decipher whatever coded language they’ve been conversing in all night.

He can’t really be that dense, can he? Fuck, I married this idiot. Jeonghan thinks offhandedly.

Doyoon continues, “I will admit that we didn’t get off to a good start when we’d first met. We had our differences.” Differences my ass, Jeonghan thinks. You spilled hot coffee on me, stained my favorite shirt, and never said sorry. “I wasn’t in the right state of mind back then and was kind of bitter about the situation I was in. I guess it’s kind of obvious, but I never got my degree. Sera came and I had to put everything on hold to take care of her when her birth mother decided to run away.”

Aww boo hoo, Jeonghan thinks. Of course, he has some tragic sob story. And it’ll definitely work on Seungcheol. He’s always been the weak one. But as Jeonghan thinks more on it, it is a pretty unfortunate story. He couldn’t imagine being left to raise Chan on his own in the middle of thesis work. And although Jeonghan can sympathize, he doesn’t think people should use their shitty circumstances to justify their shitty behavior.

Seungcheol looks so invested, he can practically see the popcorn and Icee in his hands as the movie unfolds in front of him.

“So I guess it’s long overdue, but… I am sorry. For all the shitty things I’ve said or done to you.” Doyoon takes a big breath and lets it go, exhaling all of the pent-up negativity he’s harbored in his chest since what seems like forever.

“And the incident at the park?”

“YOU were the one Jeonghan wanted to slam in the dirt?” Seungcheol eggs on.

Jeonghan nervously chuckles and lands a sharp kick to Seungcheol’s shin.

“Right… It was an off day, but I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. After the fact, I realized it wasn’t the politest reaction, but I talked to her about it right after and explained that what she did wasn’t okay… And I’m sorry for that too.”

Jeonghan thinks it over for a second, expression unwavering for a while before saying, “Apology accepted.” He shrugs, “Our kids seem to be getting along well and I would hate for any grudges we have against each other to ruin what could be a nice friendship. Plus, you aren’t that bad, I guess.” His aloof words are betrayed by the growing smile teasing his lips. He hates now more than ever that he can’t hide his emotions better.

“Wow. I still feel like I’m missing so much.” Seungcheol chimes in cocking his head to the side.

Both Doyoon and Jeonghan simultaneously roll their eyes.

“Maybe we can set up a play date later and try this again?” Doyoon asks, unsure.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

__

“That did not go at all like I expected.” Seungcheol huffed, falling back onto their couch haphazardly. His arm instinctively found its way around his husband’s shoulders. What he didn’t expect was for him to shrug it off and stare cross armed at him. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

“Yeah. Same.” They’d put Chan to sleep and now were left to their own devices.

“Are you mad? I really didn’t know. I didn’t know he was the one.”

“I’m not mad. Anymore.” But the same indignant expression remained resolute.

“Then why are you scowling at me?”

“Oh please. I’m too handsome to scowl.” Seungcheol reaches out to poke his cheek and Jeonghan mocks biting his finger off.

“Looks like a scowl to me.” He drags Jeonghan into his arms even with the other still stubbornly closed in on himself. “Then what’s wrong? Didn’t you resolve everything?”

“He’s not the one I’m mad at!” Jeonghan whines into Seungcheol’s bicep, the strong hold around him smothering and comfortable.

“Ah! So you are mad?”

“Not necessarily. I just… you two got along really well and then Chan made up with Sera and then it was just me.”

“Babe,” Seungcheol has this big ass smile on his face when he pulls back enough to look at Jeonghan. “Were you… jealous?”

Jeonghan scoffs. What? Him? Choi Jeonghan jealous? Yeah right!

Well…

Yeah… right.

“Everyone was on his side and I was like the only one in the room that couldn’t relate to anything or add anything to the conversation. You have no idea how frustrating that is!”

“Hannie, you know I’m always on your side, right?” He places a soft kiss on his lips and Jeonghan’s solid resolve finally starts to crack. He nods.

“I know.” He snuggles closer, finally releasing his arms from their defensive position to wrap them around his husband. “But you should start complimenting my cooking like that!”

“Alright. Alright.” They laugh until it trickles off into calm sighs and spend the rest of their night giving cheesy compliments for the most mundane things.

A/N: I am so sorry that took so fucking long lmao. It’s DONE. HAppy Birhtday to meeee.

Next Chapter

[nymphl]

Lie to Me – Hux x Reader - Ch. 2: Lies & Truths

A/N: Hello! Sadly, I couldn’t come up with chapter 20 of Lie to Me, as I am very busy at work this week we are moving out, Gods don’t wish that even for the worst of enemies and when I got home, I couldn’t only think about sleeping. But I decided to come here and update chapter 2 of Lie to Me - Lies & Truths. It’s not the same thing and I know you’re waiting for Reader’s answers for Hux’s question “Will you rule with me?”, but I really couldn’t update. Sorry! xD Anyways, I hope you like it xD I promise, I’ll be able to update next week. You can hold me to that! Also, my thanks to everyone who left a kudo and reblogged the 1st chapter! Love you all <3 If you want to be tagged, let me know! 

Story Summary: Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live… for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: from enemies to lovers; eventual romance; memory loss; fake marriage; fake marriage becomes real marriage; rebellion; married couple; canon divergence; slow burn romance; politics; rebel alliance; resistance; first order; OOCness; eventual smut; eventual sex; power play; power dynamics; syndicate; lies; you lie; Hux lies; Hux backstory; manipulation; political alliances; political betrayals; secret organizations.

Wordcount: 3509

PREVIOUS CHAPTER *** NEXT CHAPTER

FOR A MOMENT, NEITHER OF YOU SPOKE. HIS SILENCE MADE YOU EVEN MORE APPREHENSIVE. It was obvious he recalled at least a bit of his life — he did recall his father and the First Order — to have some doubts about being married to you would not be that much of a surprise, would it?

Slowly, his hand withdrew from your face and you inhaled sharply, as if expecting him to deny everything you said. Thankfully, he did not seem force sensitive — if you could go by the information on the datapad, he seemed quite averse to it; relying on the military prowess —, for if he were, he would know you were lying. If he did not know already.

“You should sleep,” you said once again, this time hoping he would follow your advice. “We can talk tomorrow, my…” Love… you would say. At some point, you would have to say it if he were to believe the two of you were indeed married and that was not just some made up story you came up with.

The very thought of using such endearment to him — a stranger, a murderer, your enemy none the less, made you feel nauseated; when you had only used that to your late husband —, so you decided to use what came first to your mind. Lord… That would do. In most unions in Dantooine, the husband owned the wife, so you figured out he would not find it odd if you decided to call him by such title.     

“Rest now, my Lord…” you finished.

When his blue eyes did not leave you, you had to bite the inside of your cheek to control your urge to scream.

“I promise we will have a long conversation tomorrow.”

His eyes closed this time, but the blank expression on his face did not make you feel any more reassured. On the contrary, you expected him to wake up in the middle of the night and kill you for your lies — half-truths, you corrected yourself. If — and again there were so many ifs in this entire situation — the datapad was anything to go by, there was indeed someone inside the First Order trying to get rid of him, so when you said they attacked him, it could very well be the truth.

“Did the First Order choose you?”

Kriffing hell!

What were you supposed to answer to that?

You decided, for a change, to go with the truth.

“No.”

You wetted your lips and stared at his face. He still had his eyes closed, as if in deep thought.

“Should they?” This time, you were genuinely curious. “Does the First Order always choose with whom their assets should get married?”

He opened his eyes, staring intensely at you. He did not have enough time to try to raise his chest from the bed; you placed your hand on his firm skin, pressing him down.

A hiss escaped his lips as you made contact with his still unhealed wound.

“You never… Never spoke much about the First Order…”

You only hoped he did not catch the trembling in your voice. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep that lie — and you had only started it.

Get a grip of yourself, (Y/N)!

“I see…” he mumbled to himself and you took the opportunity to bring the blanket to cover his nude chest.

“Now, you really should rest, my Lord.”

Your anxiety skyrocketed when you left the bedroom, put the utensils in the sink and let your trembling legs slither to the floor. The lights flickered in and out again, till everything went black. Senses once more sharpened, you could hear his breathing as he apparently slept in the chamber beside the kitchen.

Your house was small, and the rooms were all close together. There was no luxury and the few furniture you still had — most of it you took to the Hospital; there were people who needed them more than you did — were old and worn out. Not very fit to welcome a General of the First Order.

The very thought made you smile.

It was all so ridiculous.

You should’ve killed him…

This thought did not leave your mind. And even if the idea of murdering someone in cold blood repulsed you, you knew it was probably the right thing to do. How many more lives would he take if he recovered his lost memories? And you bet he would recover them sooner than you expected.

What was one life close to millions? Billions, even.

Tired, you closed your own eyes and rested your head against the pillar of the sink. You did not expect sleep to find you so soon.

You woke up the next morning with the sound a hiss and something crashing on the ground — a glass, perhaps? or so you thought. With blurred eyes and confused about your whereabouts — it was not usual for you to wake up on the floor — you walked to the bedroom, only to find your… husband — the word brought a bitter taste to your lips — trying to get up from the bed.

The need to roll your eyes was huge, but you schooled your features and opened your mouth to ask what he thought he was doing, however, you were interrupted by him and an aggravating question, “Where did you sleep?”

You opened your mouth twice to explain, but the words failed you. If you were married, it was expected that you slept on the same bed. However, due to his condition, it was obvious you were not to share such a small mattress with him, unless you both hoped to worsen his already fragile condition.

Of course, he did not buy your explanation and simply dismissed it with his hand as he sat on the bed. His arms shook with the exertion. You forgot the quarrel — could it be called as such? It was obvious he did not like what you said — and rushed to his side, aiding him to rise.

“I need a bath,” he said, and you could not help but notice his voice sounded much clearer than the night before.

You nodded. No one could say you did not agree with him. In this past month you had cleaned him with wet tissues, but he weighed more than he looked, and you were afraid of opening his wounds if you moved him too much.

With no help whatsoever — no one in the village knew he was your guest; you feared their reaction to the news that would come sooner or later —, you had to improvise.

It did not mean he stank, but he did not sport the most pleasant of scents either. He seemed repulsed by his appearance in general and bothered with how he smelled — if how he scrunched his nose was of any indication, it is.

With a barely concealed smile, you placed his arm on your shoulders and guided him to the armchair in which you usually slept. The flimsy blanket and pillow were still tossed carelessly, with you having no time whatsoever to rearrange anything before the abrupt wake up call.  

“This is where you have been sleeping.” It was no question. His arms were on the armrests, his eyes watching every part of the small house with rapt attention.

You usually did not bother yourself with how your house looked — you spent very little time in it anyways and there were more people out there who did not have half of what you owned, however little it was — but his scrutiny made you feel slightly uncomfortable.

Remembering he had asked you a question or something close to it, you replied on your way to the refresher, “Not tonight, my lord.”

There was silence while you drew the bath. It did not matter how poor the entire planet was after so many conflicts and Wars, it still did have much water — you had heard of invaded planets who had Factions controlling the water and distributing it as if Kyber Crystal — and no matter how much poor your house was, the fresher was conveniently furnished. You once had a sonic shower, but you saw fit to give it to the Hospital where it would be put to better use. You always dreamed of having a sonic bath, but you never managed to get one. It would be handy now, if you had one. Your husband would have to be contented with a bath and, when he could stand on his legs by himself, the shower.   

When you felt the water was warm enough to relax his sore muscles, but not too hot to burn his skin, you walked back to the bedroom and found him assessing his injuries.

It did not take him long to focus those impossibly blue eyes on you.

“How long have we been married?”

Kriffs!

That you were not expecting.

You opened your mouth, but all reasoning seemed to have left you. And here you were worried the General would complain about the lack of a sonic shower and bath in the fresher.

His voice surprised you yet again and the reasoning contained in his words left your mouth hanging open.  

“By my counts, we couldn’t have been together for more than measly three years.”

“Three and half, my lord,” you replied, looking at the floor.

Considering both of your ages and how long you were widowed, it seemed a fair reasoning. You just had to remind yourself of such assertion in case he ever asked again or anyone around you did.

“And that’s the state of this…” His eyes left you and roamed the surroundings. You felt your face warming up with embarrassment. Truth be told, you knew how to repair most of what needed to be repaired, but you did not have time nor energy to do so. “…of our house?”

You did not know what to make out of his words. Was he ashamed because it usually fell on the husband’s shoulder to take care of the house or because he had to live — temporarily, you added that as it would make you less guilty — in such uninhabitable place?

He tried to get to his feet again and this time he roughly managed to, his arms placed against the wall, holding most of his weight.

“Let me help you, my Lord.” With one of his arms around your shoulders, you sustained him. He was a tall man, you noticed it now. Even leaning on you, he still towered. You wondered how taller he would look when he could stand up by himself. “You are still bedsore, my Lord. I believe you will be able to walk by yourself by the end of the week.”

“Unacceptable.”

His answer caught you off guard and made you furrow your brows.

“Two days at most.”

You did not comment that after receiving injuries such as his, it would be almost impossible for him to be around and about in only two days and instead concentrated on helping him to enter the refresher.

It was the next action that caused you to stop on your tracks. You swallowed. His trousers would have to be removed at some point and there was no else around to help you. Or help him.

You drew in a sharp breath and moved your hands to his trousers, only to have them gently pushed away.

Oh, thank the maker!

Without looking at him; your eyes conveniently stationed at his shoulders, you helped him enter the bathtub and turned your back on him immediately, part of you screaming that you would not go far on that lie if you refused to look at him in the eye — or naked. The other half only guaranteed it was the right thing to do. He was a stranger — and even if he were your husband, without his memories, he was basically a stranger — and as such you should preserve his privacy, even from yourself.

Yes.

That made sense.

“Where are you going?”

Errr…

He was not supposed to ask that.

“Make breakfast?” You bit your bottom lip and asked — hoping, praying, whatever, for a negative answer, “Do you…” You told yourself to breathe. “Do you need help, my Lord?”

His lack of answer was answer enough.

What a relief.

You let yourself exhale slowly and squared your shoulders to exit the fresher. You did not go that far, however. His voice sounded loud and clear in your ears.

“I do expect you to return to our bed tonight.”

The reply was automatic. Without him staring at you with those icy blue eyes, it was easier to voice your opinions and disagreements.

“It would only worsen your condition.”

Noticing that perhaps it came out a bit harsher, you added “my Lord”, something that would become customary in the future.  

He took a while to respond, and it was all that took for you to leave the fresher. His voice, however, caught you in your way to the kitchen.

“I have survived worse.”  

You were not surprised to find out he could, indeed, stand on his legs in two days — even if it was with the help of an improvised cane, he was walking around and about. If anything, it only made you realize that your enemy was a powerful and dangerous man; that he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

The two of you were currently in the kitchen, sharing a meal in silence — you would not come to label it as comfortable, but it was not awkward either. Your eyes were cast down and his were focused on your face.

He chewed the food slowly, taking his time. Now you knew he was not scrunching his nose at the smell. At one point everyone gets used to Kibla Green.

Carefully, you raised your eyes from your bowl and ran them over his frame. He almost made you choke when you realized he caught you staring.

Face scorching hot, you shifted your attention back to your food.

Last night had him querying you about his clothes. They were absolutely not his style. Not to mention they did quite not fit him.

He was slimmer than your husband — the only and one — and taller. As a result, most of the clothing was simply not his match. Too large and too small at the same time.

Not that hungry anymore, you just toyed with the food in your bowl, not very keen on finishing it. A billion of thoughts ran through your head, all of them aggravating. The worse, however, was that nasty, nagging feeling that he knew somehow.

His questions only added to this sensation and darkened your mood. He would question just about everything. You were almost pointing out that he was paranoid — not that he did not have reasons to be. You knew that one did not reach the position of General of the First Order by trusting everyone. However, you thought that given his current state, you should be the one he would trust the most.

It was just infuriating that he didn’t!

You bit the inside of your cheek. You had to come up with some idea to make this situation a bit better. To make him believe you.

Noticing that he had finished and that you yourself could not eat anymore, you picked both of your bowls and placed them in the sink. You returned to the table, ready to retrieve the rest of the utensils when he wrapped his hand around your wrist.

Startled, you raised your eyes to his — even with him sitting down and you standing up, you could not say you towered over him — just to find his blue orbs closed.

His shudder was not missed by you, and you lost no time to ask if he was in pain.

“I’ll just clean up this mess and I’ll get a look at your wounds.”

He remained silent; his eyes trained on your lips as you spoke. The hand wrapped around your wrist caressed the inside of your pulse, making your blood pump faster.

You tugged your arm lightly, asking silently for him to let go.

He didn’t.

“My Lord…”

As if he finally heard you, he stood up. Hand still wrapped around your wrist, he pulled you closer. Much closer than proper, much closer than you felt comfortable with.

You tried to calm down your heartbeats and reminded yourself he thought he was your husband.

It all gone to waste when he lifted your chin; his right hand on the small of your back, tracing it with small strokes.

You shuddered.

He bowed his head and closed the gap between you.

Kriffs!

You closed your eyes.

His breath caressed your face.

You heart was on the verge of escaping your mouth.

Another shudder.

You could almost feel his lips on yours.

His tips held your chin firmly in place, but not enough to bruise. He was almost… gentle.

Your heart beat faster now.

His lips were almost grazing yours.

Even closer now…

His lips skimmed your cheek and later your chin.

Your chest heaved.

When you finally could not take it anymore, you mumbled.

“Please…”

You did not know what you were begging for. Was it for him to kiss you at once or for him to break apart?

He seemed to take it for the second and stepped away.

You shuddered again when his warmth was no longer engulfing you.

Slowly, you opened your eyes only to find him staring back at you; an unreadable expression on his bluish orbs.

“Don’t we have a protocol droid?”

He traced your lips with the tip of his finger.

You gasped.

And totally forgot his question.

He leisurely smoothed his index finger on your bottom lip. You felt your mouth growing dry and subconsciously tried to wet it. Only to have your tongue caressing his skin.

This time, both of you shuddered.

Eyes widened, you broke apart and put some distance between your bodies. He straightened his back and looked at you, as if expecting your answer.

Furrowing your brows, you wondered what he did ask in the first place.

“The droid,” he offered, eyes once again focused on you.

The protocol droid. Right!

“We did have one,” you said, trying to control your breath. Once again, you decided to go for the truth. Or the half-truth. “But I decided give it to the hospital. They would put it to a better use.”

“I see,” he replied, both of his hands crossed behind his back.

In this position, he seemed very almighty. In fact, he looked like the very general you had seen in the datapad.

A minute or two passed in silence and you found yourself unable to control your nerves and get it done with the utensils.

He had almost kissed you.

And you stood there and let him.

Almost, you reminded yourself.

But it should not get this far. Not this soon, at least.

Not ever, part of you thought. The other part knew, however, that one day he would want to do whatever married couples did and how were you supposed to deny him?

You could not go for ‘you’re injured’ forever; he healed faster by the day. And you could not fake sickness; your health has always been top notch.

Noticing you were shaking completely, you let go of the utensils before you cut yourself and walked back to the bedroom.

He was there already. His back turned to you. He was naked up the waist and the scars on his back — old scars, not the fresh wounds that were about to mark him for good — made you bit your lip.

You stood there for a good couple of minutes, unsure of what to do.

When he turned to face you, you forgot how to breathe.

Clearing your throat, you walked to the wardrobe and retrieved the datapad.

You were not sure you should do that — for the maker, you were not even sure you did the best by saving him! —, but you knew you had to make him trust you somehow.

And at the moment, you could not come up with better solution.

You walked to him and slowly reached out, offering the datapad. He did not take it immediately and no word left his lips, but his expression made it all clear he wanted to know what that was.

You wetted your lips.

“I found it in this newest attack…” You looked at his eyes, he was staring at you rather intensely. This time you touched him out of your own volition. You drew his hand into yours and placed the datapad between his fingertips. It was a dangerous bet, this one you were betting on. He could read whatever files he would find there and only the maker could know what more. But you had to try. “I-I… It belonged to the First Order.” His eyes went cold at your words. “And I think it’s time for you to have it.”

A/N -  Chapter 3 - Hot & Cold will be updated as soon as possible. Next week I’ll be focusing on updating chapter 20 on AO3, but I think I can manage to post it here as well xD It’s been fun rereading this story. Besides fixing the mistakes, it also helps me a lot to prepare for what’s come and I can only hope you will like what’s to come. I think that’s all and I hope you like it xD

taglist: @girl-next-door-writes​ @angustieis​