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deja-you · 4 years

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angel wings + wedding rings

part three | saint’s have no moderation

m. de lafayette x reader

summary: hercules decides he needs new friends.

word count: 3.8k

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“So how’s married life? The two of you still in the honeymoon phase?”

You pressed your tongue to the roof of your mouth and considered Hercules’s question. The truth was, you were still in the honeymoon phase. The colony of butterflies in your stomach flapped their wings every morning when Lafayette gave you that grin and the cup of coffee with your preferred modifications. Living with Lafayette was so easy; you had to constantly remind yourself that this wasn’t a real marriage.

“It’s alright,” you said.

Hercules glanced up at you. “He hasn’t driven you away with his obnoxious habits?”

“What obnoxious habits?”

“Oh, you know, all the corny jokes he likes to tell. Or the eating your leftovers. Or when he reminds you what you should be doing. I was roommates with the man for a while there, trust me, living with him is no picnic,” Hercules said.

“Huh. He really does do all that stuff, doesn’t he?” You said, thinking it over.

“Yes. It’s the worst, isn’t it?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I find it endearing. I like his jokes. He always orders me food when he eats the last of the leftovers, and when he reminds me of what I should be doing, it shows me he cares.”

Hercules grumbled about something along the lines of “never ordered me food” and crossed his arms. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled a little just thinking about it.

“So have you stopped denying the fact that you have romantic feelings for him?” Hercules asked.

You snapped out of your daze and narrowed your eyes at Hercules. “I’m not denying anything, because there are no feelings to deny. We’re friends, I’m doing him a favor. That’s all.”

“You think if you keep denying your feelings they’ll go away?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, then realizing what he said you quickly shook your head at him, narrowing your eyes. “No. Stop trying to make something happen. We’re just friends.”

“Who are married,” Hercules pointed out.

“Yes. Friends who are married. That doesn’t mean anything,” you looked away from him, running your hands up your arms. “Maybe I would have considered dating him before, but we’re married now, it just wouldn’t work.”

“I am not following.”

“Hercules, if we tried to date and it didn’t work out, we would still have to live together for however long until we could respectfully separate. If things ended badly, it would be agony to continue living with him and pretending we’re still in love,” you said.

There was a pang in your heart at just the thought of it. You wouldn’t let anyone in on this, but there was something about Lafayette that just made you breathe easier. He had such a strong impact on you without even trying, you couldn’t imagine how much he would be able to hurt you if something went wrong. Maybe you had thought about what it would be like to be more than friends with Lafayette, but it just wasn’t worth the risk.

You took a deep breath in, doing your best to steady your heartbeat. “It’s best for everyone involved if we just stay friends. I don’t want any feelings involved.”

Hercules scoffed but seemed to let the subject go. “Okay. Fine. You’re friends. We’ll pick up this conversation later, you need to get to hair and makeup.”

You pouted. “What? You don’t think I’m pretty enough as I am?”

“Oh, darling, you look like a toad.”

You scowled at him and he quickly held his hands up in surrender, adding, “a very beautiful toad.”

“I’ll have you know, this toad gets paid very well to walk around in underwear all day,” you crossed your arms and gave him a pointed look.

“Yes, yes, you’re very good at walking. Now walk over to hair and makeup so I don’t have to spend my whole day shooting this commercial,” Hercules sighed.

You stood and began walking over to where Caroline and Ada were already getting their hair done. Hercules called after you one last time before he went to do last minute checks on the clothes for the shoot.

“Oh, one more thing? I think Lafayette feels the same way you feel about him.”

You did your best to brush off his words, what did Hercules know, anyway? And if your smile was a little wider during filming that day, you were convinced it had nothing to do with the idea that Lafayette liked you back.

“How was filming today?”

You heard the front door open and knew it was Lafayette without looking up from the puzzle you were working on at the kitchen table. It was nearly 10 p.m., and if you were really Lafayette’s wife, you might’ve been concerned that he hadn’t come home sooner. But you weren’t.

“It was alright. Ran a little longer because Tom Conway couldn’t get his lines right.” You could hear the exhaustion in his voice hidden behind the annoyance.

“He’s not a good actor? Well at least he’s very attractive,” you commented, scanning the pieces for the last piece of the windmill you were putting together.

Lafayette wore a scowl on his face that you didn’t see walking over to where you were. “I’m attractive and I’m a good actor.”

“Never said you weren’t, sweetheart,” you mumbled.

He hummed softly, picking up a puzzle piece and placing it between the other pieces. A perfect fit. Lafayette had completed the windmill. You frowned, finally taking your eyes off the puzzle in front of you and looking at your tired husband.

“I was just about to put that piece in!” You complained.

Lafayette chuckled. “Doubt that. I’ve been watching you look for that piece since I walked in the door. If I know you-- and I do-- I bet you’ve been working on this puzzle for hours. Take a break.”

He was right about that, and you stood from your chair, stretching your arms. “I was just waiting for you to get home.”

Lafayette’s heart stopped momentarily. Had you really been waiting in the kitchen for him to get home? If Lafayette let his guard down for a moment, he might’ve believed you actually cared about him. He pressed his lips together firmly and brought himself back into reality.

“Were you worried about me, mon ange?” He asked with a cocky smile.

You made your way into the kitchen and got yourself a cup of water. “Don’t flatter yourself. Was just hoping you’d bring home some dinner.”

He laughed. “Sorry to disappoint. It’s going to have to be leftovers tonight, but tomorrow I’ll take you out for a nice dinner.”

“You mean it?” You turned to grin at him. “It’s the least I deserve.”

“That’s true.” Lafayette joined you in the kitchen, pulling out some food from the fridge and putting it in the microwave.

You were watching Lafayette thoughtfully as he quietly tapped his feet to the music you had playing while you worked on your puzzle. He must have felt your gaze on him, because he looked up and met your stare with a soft smile.

“I love this song,” he told you.

You recognized Frank Sinatra’s smooth vocals. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded and held his hand out to you. “Dance with me.”

“Right here?” You raised an eyebrow.

Lafayette shrugged. “Why not?”

You opened your mouth to tell him why not, but found that you couldn’t come up with any good reason as to why not dance with him in the kitchen. You accepted his outstretched hand and allowed him to pull you close into his embrace.

Lafayette had never been an expert dancer, you both knew this, but there was something oddly cathartic about swaying back and forth with him barefoot on the hardwood floor. The probing lights of the microwave served as a makeshift disco ball in your private ballroom.

You had lost track of how long you and Lafayette had been dancing in the kitchen, but at some point the song had ended and the microwave had stopped. And then Lafayette stopped swaying you, and he was just holding you close in his arms. You were letting him.

His right hand had lifted to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the soft skin. There was a whisper of your name on his lips, and then he was leaning forward to press his lips to yours. You tensed in his loose grip for a moment before melting into his arms and kissing him back.

For a moment it was bliss. Then bliss ended.

Too soon, Lafayette pulled away from the kiss. His hands let go of you, dropping to his side, and leaving you feeling cold and empty.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said quickly. “We can just forget this happened. I... I should go to bed. Goodnight.”

He left before you had the chance to respond to him and shut himself in his room. You stood in the kitchen in shock, abandoned like the puzzle on the table and the food that was quickly getting cold in the microwave.

Lafayette’s makeup artist deserved a raise.

Somehow Liz had transformed a man who had barely gotten any sleep in the last week into the bright-eyed, glowing skinned heartthrob Hollywood was used to seeing on-screen in the fifteen minutes before filming started. She crossed her arms sternly over her chest when she set down her makeup brush.

“So who or what is it that’s causing you to lose this much sleep? You keep this up and there’ll be no amount of makeup that will cover those bags under your eyes,” she scolded him.

“Just been nervous about getting this role right,” Lafayette lied, “that’s all.”

“Anyone ever told you not to pursue a career in acting?” Liz brought a hand up to cover her mouth, chuckling softly. “Too late for that, isn’t it?”

He only had enough energy to scowl at her.

“Is it that new wife of yours keeping you up?” Liz asked suggestively. “It’s common for newlyweds not to get a lot of sleep, if y’know what I mean.”

She sent him a cheeky wink, and Lafayette felt his cheeks heat up.

The truth was that it had been his wife that was making him lose sleep, but not in the way Liz suspected. Lafayette hadn’t been able to sleep well since he kissed you in the kitchen a few nights ago. You had gone along well enough with his suggestion to “forget about” the kiss, but even if you wanted to discuss it, Lafayette didn’t give you much of an opening.

He had crafted an elaborate schedule to wake up and leave the apartment for work long before he knew you would wake up, and Lafayette made sure not to return home until later at night, chalking it all up to “a horrendous filming schedule.” With his scheme, Lafayette had been successful in avoiding you for the most part, but it also cut into his valuable sleeping time.

That didn’t mean much to Lafayette, anyway. Sleep was no longer the peaceful rest it had once been. No, now when he closed his eyes, he found that he was haunted with dreams of kissing you again and he would wake up feeling more empty and tired than he had before.

Lafayette never had to respond to Liz’s suggestive question, because the trailer door was flung open and Hercules invited himself into Lafayette’s space.

“Ah, there you are!” Hercules shut the trailer door behind him as he spotted Lafayette and marched over to where Liz was doing Lafayette’s makeup.

Lafayette raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing on set?”

Hercules’s eyes left Lafayette’s, acknowledging the presence of Lafayette’s makeup artist for the first time. A smile spread across Hercules’s face as he admired Liz.

“I came to talk to you, but I think my priorities have changed.” Hercules offered his hand to Liz, and although he didn’t need one, he nudged Lafayette, waiting for an introduction.

“Hm? Oh,” Lafayette said, understanding what Hercules wanted. “Liz, this is my best friend, Hercules Mulligan. Hercules, this is my makeup artist, Liz Sanders.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Hercules.” Liz accepted his outstretched hand.

“The pleasure is all mine.” His voice dripped with charisma and he brought the back of her hand to his lips.

If he had had an ounce of caffeine that morning, Lafayette would have mercilessly teased his friend for his cliché and outdated flirting techniques. Maybe tomorrow he’d remember to make fun of Hercules; maybe after a good night’s rest. With a quiet sigh, he checked his watch and saw that he needed to be filming soon.

“As much as I’m enjoying this... this... whatever this is,” Lafayette gestured between Liz and Hercules, “I have to leave to start filming soon. So is there something you came to talk about?”

Hercules begrudgingly tore his eyes away from Liz. “It’s about your wife.”

Lafayette’s heart sunk just a little bit at the mention of you. He nodded once. “Liz, you think you could give us a moment?”

“Course, I’ll see you both later,” she shot a warm smile in Hercules direction, and glanced over at Lafayette once before leaving the trailer. “Hey Lafayette? Try to get some more sleep, okay?”

When Liz was gone, Hercules pulled up a folding chair, sat down, and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “So you’re not sleeping, huh?”

Lafayette sat back in his own chair and folded his arms over his chest. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. So what is it about Y/n that you had to interrupt me at work for?”

“She thinks you’ve been avoiding her.”

“She said that?” Lafayette sucked in a cool breath of air.

“It’s all she’s been talking to me about. And I’m tired of hearing about you everyday at work. I thought I’d come to the root of my problems. Here we are.” Hercules narrowed his eyes at his friend, trying to read his thoughts. “You’re avoiding your wife and you’re not sleeping. What’s going on with you two?”

Lafayette pressed his lips together firmly, trying to find the words to explain what had happened. He brought one hand up to rub his temple, the other one resting on the arm chair.

“I kissed her.”

A beat of silence.

Hercules’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “You kissed her?”

“Yes.”

Hercules folded his hands together in his lap and nodded absently. “Let me get this straight. You kissed her, now you’re avoiding her, and you haven’t been sleeping?”

Lafayette opened his mouth to disagree, but then sighed in defeat. “I guess that’s basically it.”

“I need new friends,” came Hercules’s exasperated response. “The both of you are just so clueless sometimes. Laf, tell me, in what world does kissing a girl and then ignoring her sound like a good idea?”

“Well, I su-- this is a hypothetical question, isn’t it?” Lafayette asked.

“Of course it is. You’re so stupid. Just talk to her. It can’t be worse than whatever it is you’re doing to yourself now.”

Hercules had a point.

“I know. I know that’s what I should do. But... I think I’ve ruined things with Y/n.” Lafayette’s forehead creased when he frowned.

“Get this through your thick skull. You haven’t ruined things with her. She would’ve left you by now if you had,” Hercules rolled his eyes.

Lafayette briefly chewed on his bottom lip, glancing up at Hercules and shaking his head. “No. You don’t understand. Hercules... I think I’m in love with her. I’m in love with my wife.”

A pause.

“You’re in love with her?” Hercules threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Are you really just figuring this out now? Was it not obvious when you asked her to marry you?”

In truth, Lafayette had figured out he loved her long before they had even shared a kiss. He had fallen in love with your warm smile that greeted him at breakfast in the morning. He had fallen in love with the laughter-filled conversations the two of you shared in his Rolls-Royce. He had fallen in love with the tired look in your eyes when he returned after a long day, and he just knew you had been waiting up for him.

“So you love her,” Hercules shrugged. “What’s the big deal? She’s your wife.”

“But we’re friends.”

“Who are married.”

Lafayette shot Hercules a dirty look. “She doesn’t feel the same way.”

“She does.” Hercules glanced down at his watch and back at Lafayette. “Would you two just talk to each other? I feel like I’m the goddamn United States Postal Service, all these messages I’m having to deliver. Look, I’ve got places to be, but will you just talk to her?”

Lafayette pressed his lips together tightly before responding, “I will try.”

That seemed to be enough for Hercules. He gave Lafayette one last exhausted look before leaving the trailer.

Despite Hercules’s advice, Lafayette found himself unlocking the door slowly and quietly, hoping the sound wouldn’t alert you to his presence.

It was well past midnight when he returned back to the apartment; an attempt on his part to avoid you once more. It was a skill he had grown adept at, so maybe it was his overconfidence that caused him to finally slip up.

Lafayette had tactfully closed the door gently behind him so there would be no sound. He took his time to slip off his shoes and put them neatly away. It was when he was tiptoeing over to his room that he made his mistake. In the darkness, Lafayette managed to stub his toe against the corner of the wall, and a slew of loud swear words left his lips.

In a second, your door swung open and you were out in the hallway, flipping on the lights. You were surprised to find your husband clutching his foot and staring at you with wide eyes. You stifled a chuckle at the scene, leaning against the wall and raising an eyebrow.

“You keep coming back at all hours of the night, I’ll start thinking my husband’s cheating on me,” you teased him.

The pain in his foot began to subside, and he gave you an easy smile. It was always an easy smile when it came to you. “Didn’t mean to alarm you, mon ange. Just got caught up with work. Wouldn’t ever dream of cheating on you.”

“We’re not really married. It wouldn’t be cheating,” you shrugged, glancing down at your sock-clad feet and missing the small frown on Lafayette’s expression.

“Still. I’m committed to you.”

“You really think you can go a couple years without sleeping with other people?” You scoffed, hands tugging at the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing.

“I could. I will.”

You looked up at him skeptically, but there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. God, how you missed those eyes. It had been a few days since you’d really had a conversation with him, and you realized you missed him. You were reminded of why you hadn’t spoken recently, and you cleared your throat.

“You think you could stop avoiding me now?”

Lafayette’s throat tightened around his words. “I... I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Yes, you have. Things have been off since we kissed, we both know that.”

“Right. Again, I’m sorry about that.”

You shook your head. “Don’t be. I know why you kissed me.”

Suddenly the air in the apartment had thinned and Lafayette was struggling to take a breath. “You do?”

You took a few steps in his direction, nodding. “Yeah. I do.”

“Well do you mind telling me?”

“Since we got married,” you did air quotes around “married” and Lafayette watched you with wide eyes, “neither of us have had a good way of... releasing tension, I suppose.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“And, well, seeing as neither of us is willing to expose our marriage,” you continued, “it makes sense that you would want... well, y’know.”

“Mon ange, I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m so--”

You held up a hand to silence him. “Stop apologizing. You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was... It was nice. I enjoyed it.”

He gulped. “You did?”

“Mmhmm. It’s been a while since anyone’s really kissed me like that.” You shrugged before pinning Lafayette with a mysterious gaze. “Anyway, seeing as we’re going to be married for a while, if you ever wanted to do something more than kiss...”

“You’re being serious?”

You were beginning to feel self-conscious. Maybe this wasn’t what he wanted. Maybe you had misread the situation. It was too late to go back now, so you nodded. “Yeah, I’m serious. I understand if you don’t want this, I just thought--”

You paused when you felt one of his arms wrap around your waist, his other hand lifting to cup your cheek.

“Mon ange, I do want this. I want you.”

His fingers dipped into your skin and his lips met yours in a scalding kiss. Your hand found the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you. Lafayette pulled your body tightly against his own, moaning softly when your hips found his. You tugged at the fabric of his shirt, and that was enough.

Lafayette��s lips briefly parted from yours, barely long enough to open the door and tug you into his room. You found yourself between the cool covers of his bed below you and Lafayette’s desperate lips above you. One of his hands rested on your lower back, the other entangled in your hair.

You placed two hands on his chest, pushing him over so you were on top of him. Your hands made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, and you began leaving kisses along his newly exposed skin. You could hear his breathing accelerate when you began to suck on an especially sensitive part of his collarbone, and then his fingers were pulling your face up to look him in the eyes.

“You’re sure about this, mon ange? I don’t want you to regret this tomorrow?” His voice was hoarse.

You only grinned. “I’m sure about this. This is good, okay? You don’t need to worry about it. We’re friends. No strings attached, yeah?”

Lafayette’s heart stopped in his chest. He wanted to tell you that there were strings attached. He should’ve told you that there were strings attached. All of his heartstrings were attached to your every breath, and you deserved to know that. There was no way just one night with you could be enough. Or two. Or three. Or however many might follow. Nights with you weren’t going to be enough for Lafayette, he wanted your mornings, noons, and evenings.

This was his chance to tell you. You were watching him with those eyes that he had managed to fall in love with, waiting for a response. When it never came, you smiled again and leaned forward to kiss him.

The words died on his lips when your’s met his.

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nevertherose · 3 years

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One Hundred Seconds to Midnight: Chapters 1-8

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

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

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

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

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

But I wanted it to exist here as well.

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

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

But if you're like me, and like to read stories in nice, big, juicy chunks...here you go:

One Hundred Seconds to Midnight

Chapter 1- The Eleventh Hour

“Who are you?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m still cooking.”

Midnight.

The witching hour.

Or was that 3AM? Roman wondered. No, that’s the devil’s hour…damn it, Virgil! You had to get them all mixed up!

It was nearly midnight on the Imagination’s border.

Moonlight, pearlescent and brighter than it could ever shine in the real world, streamed feather-light through the tall windows on Roman’s side of the Dream Palace. It made patterns of light and shadow over the black marble floors, made nighttime caricatures of the white ivory statues that lined the corridor.

Roman’s heeled boots echoed in the silence; Logan’s dress shoes, in comparison, were whisper-quiet.

Logan himself had been uncharacteristically quiet since they entered this place, Roman noted, glancing back. Normally by now the logical Side would have asked a million questions, made a million plans, or be several bullet points into a lecture about palace construction or the history of measurement units or some other nerdy, obscure subject.

And Roman would either pretend to be annoyed, or would interject witty counterpoints to make Logan stop and bluster and…

But not tonight.

Maybe he’s nervous about being here, Roman told himself, smoothing a hand over his red sash. He’s only pointed out a million times that Logic and the Imagination are anathema to one another. Maybe I should have planned something else…

Or maybe he’s just annoyed at you for dragging him out of bed in the literal middle of the night, a more insidious inner voice whispered. When you know he likes to keep a consistent sleep schedule.

Roman pressed his lips together, lifted his chin…he might be a mere facet of a single personality, but he was also a Prince, and Princes do not listen to inner demons. However, he also looked back for the dozenth time to make sure Logan was actually still following.

That was the only reason Roman kept looking back.

It had nothing to do with the way the translucent moonlight caught the other Side’s dark, immaculately kept hair, or glinted off his glasses.

In the real world, of course, and whenever they manifested near their Source, the Sides all had precisely the same face and body as Thomas. But deep inside the mind, where physical appearance was an illusion anyway, the Sides exercised much more control.

Thomas remained their base template, but each Side also tended to portray himself with features that Thomas associated with their core function. Like Patton’s fluffy curls and childlike freckles, or Virgil’s anxious, ever-changing eyeshadow, or Remus’s abominable comic-book villain mustache.

Like Deceit’s…no, Janus’s very real scales.

Damn that snake. Why did I have think of him now?

Hopefully the lying bananaconda had better things to do than pop up and spoil things tonight. Because tonight, Roman was finally fulfilling a longtime promise to Logan, and taking him on a grand adventure.

The thought made his heart flutter in anticipation, and he looked back again.

Logan within the mindscape was leaner than Thomas, an inch or two taller, and his neatly trimmed hair and intelligent eyes were almost black in the low light. His face was narrow and intense, the nose more aquiline, and he had a habit of standing straighter than any of the rest of them.

(A habit which constantly showed off his trim waist and chest muscles…not that Roman paid any attention to that…)

Roman, by contrast, was a bit shorter, but his shoulders were broad and he was more muscular, due to all the questing and sword fighting he did here in the Imagination. He wore his hair in longish disarray that paired devastatingly with his clean, square jawline; hair that could be turned loose and wild on quests, or pulled neatly back as befitted royalty. His hands were strong; with long, artistic fingers, as skilled at wielding pens and paintbrushes as they were at wielding swords.

He liked to think he was handsome.

He was also painfully aware of how little it mattered when a certain someone…ehem…never seemed to notice.

“Roman, I confess to still being a bit lost as to the purpose of this journey,” Logan said at last, breaking the high-ceilinged silence. “You said you were taking us on a…’lark’? If so, why are we wandering around the Dream Palace?”

“LARP,” Roman corrected, flashing him a smile. “L-A-R-P. It stands for live action role play, Specs.”

Logan’s nose wrinkled at the words “role play”, and Roman’s stomach lurched. He hates it, he hates the very idea of it, you haven’t even started yet and you’ve already failed…

“Oh, don’t make the scrunchy face!” he added, a bit louder than necessary, and waved a hand. “At least wait until you’ve seen it.”

Roman had only been planning this for weeks.

“You know, when you promised to take me on one of your ‘adventures’,” Logan said, making finger quotes. “I was not expecting to be roused from bed in the middle of the night.”

“That’s because this isn’t your average adventure.” Roman gestured around them. “I constructed a special dreamscape to get all the details right, and we can only use the Dream Palace when Thomas is asleep.” He turned and dared a wink. “Only the best for you, my detail-oriented friend.”

Logan adjusted his glasses.

“Let it be known that I am indulging your antics right now because you have, on occasion, had some good ideas. You will, in turn, have to indulge my skepticism.”

“I have no idea what you just said, but I’m gonna pretend it was a compliment,” Roman said with a wink, which Logan rolled his eyes at.

“Ah ha, here we are!”

Roman stopped at a set of iconic blue doors, nearly vibrating in excitement as he waited for Logan to recognize them.

The nerd did not disappoint.

“Roman…” Logan murmured, stepping forward to touch the white PULL TO OPEN sign. “They look just like the doors to the TARDIS. The attention to detail is exquisite. But why?”

“Because I’m taking you on a Doctor Who LARP!” Roman exclaimed, flapping his hands. “All we have to do is step through, and the Imagination will make us Doctor and companion, and whisk us away through all of time and space!”

Logan’s face was a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “Again…why?”

“Because it will be fun?” Roman bit his lip, looking at his toes. “I…I know you aren’t into swords and sorcery and dragon-witches and whatnot. I wanted this to be something you might actually enjoy.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, as it often did when he tried to process something that didn’t fit neatly into his graphed, notated, logical worldview.

Usually, it was an emotion.

“But won’t us enacting such an intense scenario at this time of night negatively affect Thomas’s sleep?” Logan asked.

“That’s the genius of adventuring in the Dream Palace,” Roman explained. “You can do hyperreal, immersive stuff, and if Thomas does happen to remember anything, he’ll just think he had a weird dream. The worst that could happen is he might post about it on Twitter.”

“Hmm. I can see you’ve thought this through. I am…flattered that you went to all the trouble,” Logan said in a quiet voice.

Roman had to bite back an ecstatic giggle.

Not…not because of the way his nerves skittered below his skin when his gaze caught Logan’s black eyes and soft expression. No, Roman was merely…excited! That someone like Logan appreciated his hard work!

It wasn’t like he was trying to impress anyone, like some middle school boy with, you know, a crush or whatever. For the last, well…two years.

…and then some.

Ugh. There was little point in denying his feelings; he’d only accidentally summon Janus and his oily smirk, and if that happened, Roman would most certainly die of embarrassment and that was not a lie, thank you very much.

The truth was, ever since Thomas had placed that jar of Crofters into Logan’s hands and inspired him to sing…not just rap, or begrudgingly harmonize, but actually sing…Roman had fallen, and fallen hard.

How could he not?

Logan’s words and ideas had always challenged him, pushed him to be smarter, sharper, better, just to keep up. Logan was the grounding anchor to his sails, the clarity to his excess. It used to infuriate Roman, the way he and Logan always came at problems from opposite sides and fought, sometimes bitterly, over the best way to meet in the middle.

But now?

Now Roman relished the way they traded words in a good fight, like blades in the hands of expert swordsmen. Logan, despite his dislike for anything fanciful, was a natural wordsmith…and Roman was a great lover of poetry. Even better, it seemed like Logan was also starting to enjoy their verbal sparring matches…

And then these last few months had happened.

The Decision, and Deceit, and the way that snake had let Remus out of the shadows to wreck havoc, and then the disastrous wedding itself…and Roman knew that Logan, through all of it, had been feeling pushed aside.

Goodness knew the logical Side hadn’t deserved to be shoved to the back of a courtroom, or relegated to a pixel-y shadow of himself before being removed from the discussion entirely. Worse, in both of those scenarios, Roman had either done nothing…or actively made things worse.

Roman knew he was guilty of letting his mouth run wild in his zeal to solve Thomas’s dilemmas…or in desperately hiding his true feelings. He knew his nicknames often came with barbs, his insults sometimes hit too close to home, that he often ignored or dismissed Logan’s cool, much-needed perspective.

He knew he needed to be better.

I’ll make it up to him tonight, Roman told himself as he laid a hand on the rough wooden blue doors and glanced back at Logan. The logical Side nodded, giving Roman a tiny burst of confidence.

He’ll get to play his favorite character and be his best nerdy self. This is going to be great!

Roman took a breath, and shoved open the TARDIS doors.

Chapter 2- Human Nature

“It’s all becoming clear now. The Doctor is doing the things you’d like to be doing.”

The blaring of a dozen sirens burst in Logan’s ears.

He was yanked across the threshold, Roman’s hand practically a vice around his wrist. Logan inhaled the sharp scent of metal and warm electronics, and a million figurative lights went off in his brain.

Being the physical incarnation of Logic, this wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar sensation.

The TARDIS shuddered…wait, TARDIS? We’re actually on the TARDIS?…under impact. Lights flashed; reds and greens over an ambiance of steely blue-gray, and Logan knew exactly what to do.

He shook free of Roman’s grip and strode to the center console…console, how do I know this is a console?…flipping several switches and turning the green dial to precisely 3.56 degrees to offset the radiation sheer from the M-class star they’d just spun past.

Because naturally they happened to be careening through an asteroid field.

The time rotor rose and dipped, Gallifreyan symbols whirling overhead; Logan adjusted shields and dodged rocks, striding confidently from station to station. He guided his TARDIS around the last large asteroid, one that easily could have smashed his beloved ship to bits, and then they were clear.

The TARDIS chimed reassuringly under his hands, relieved to be in empty space again.

Roman screamed.

The sound echoed off the metallic walls, causing Logan to whip around and nearly lose his balance.

“What happened?” he said sharply, leaving the console. The creative Side stood near the railing, staring down at himself in obvious dismay. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at me, Logan!” Roman said shrilly and gesturing at his body. “Just look!”

Logan examined his fellow Side. There were no obvious injuries he could see, no blood, no bruising, nothing that would merit a scream. There was just Roman, unfairly handsome as always.

(He still wasn’t sure how Roman managed that feat when they all literally, at least some of the time, had the same face.)

“I…don’t see a problem?” Logan asked slowly.

“I meant, look at what I’m wearing, Calculator Watch,” Roman snarled, and turned to yell nonsensically at the ceiling. “Am I a joke to you? When I said I wanted to be a companion, this is not what I meant!”

Logan focused on Roman’s clothing, which had shifted rather drastically since passing through those doors. His normal princely attire was replaced by a denim cutoff skirt, overalls, pink leggings, and a tight pink blouse that clung to his muscular chest and arms...

“I look ridiculous, don’t I?” Roman murmured, scuffing a combat boot against the metal grated floor. The motion drew Logan’s gaze again to the way the cutoffs hugged his hips and wow, that skirt was really short, wasn’t it?

And those tights, the way they accentuated Roman’s legs...

Logan frowned, his face feeling unusually warm. Why did he keep noticing these things? Of course Roman was more fit than the rest of them.

Perhaps it was simply that Logan didn’t usually see the evidence of it so…plainly.

Stop, Logan told himself sharply. You might be gay and allosexual, but that is no excuse to be disrespectful.

He cleared his throat.

“If I may, Roman?” he said, approaching, and made a closer examination of Roman’s outfit.

“I gather from your earlier ranting that you instructed the Imagination to cast you as one of the Doctor’s companions for the duration of this scenario?”

“Well, yeah,” Roman admitted, “but I was thinking someone like Jamie McCrimmon, or Rory Williams, or maybe even Jack Harkness!”

“You know there is some debate over whether Jack Harkness would be considered a proper ‘companion’, as he was never full time on the TARDIS,” Logan argued absently, still eying Roman’s ensemble.

It was attractive but also familiar; he just couldn’t quite place it…

“Neither was Clara Oswald at first, but nobody had a problem handing her that label from the start!” Roman folded his arms and Logan had to look away because wow, short sleeves and arms…

“Just because she was a girl and the writers obviously intended for her to be a love interest—”

“A girl, of course!” Logan snapped his fingers. “Roman, you are a companion. Specifically, you are Rose Tyler.”

“What?” Roman frowned, smoothing the overalls across his middle. “I…Hmm. You might actually be right.”

“Of course I am right.”

The creative Side scoffed at that, but continued to frown.

“I think it’s a good choice,” Logan added. “Rose is arguably one of the most beloved companions in new Who; bold, kind, and intelligent in her own way. She was pivotal to the Ninth, Tenth, and arguably the War Doctor’s character arcs.”

He laid a hand on Roman’s shoulder. (To convey reassurance, of course. Not because he suddenly wanted to touch…)

“Hers are not the worst shoes you could be given to fill,” Logan said, “idiomatically speaking.”

“Only you would drop a word like ‘idiomatically’ in everyday conversation,” Roman grumbled, but some of the spark returned to his caramel eyes.

“But look at you!” Roman said in a brighter voice, gesturing. “All proper and Doctor-ish. At least the Imagination let you keep your tie, or, whatever that thing is around your neck.”

Logan glanced down at himself for the first time.

His sensible polo and jeans had become a clean-cut black suit, with a warm grey waistcoat, a crisp white undershirt, and a silver pocket watch. A navy cravat was knotted around his throat.

His knee-length suit jacket was also black, with a striking cerulean lining.

He retrieved a slender, metallic something from the jacket’s inner pocket: of course, the Doctor’s signature sonic screwdriver. Specifically, the Tenth Doctor’s screwdriver.

Logan chuckled, remembering all the times he’d ranted to Roman about how impractical and flashy Eleven’s screwdriver became, and don’t even get him started on Twelve’s, it was practically a lightsaber…

“Interesting,” he murmured, stretching his arms to turn in a slow circle, letting the jacket flare. “Fashionably, I appear to be a cross between the Eighth and Twelfth Doctors, which I appreciate, as they are the two most sensible dressers of the bunch. And by the way, Roman, this is a called a cravat, not a tie…”

He’d lifted hands to his neck but the words died on his tongue.

Roman had summoned a mirror and was, quite literally, checking himself out. He swayed his hips, tilted one toward and then away from the mirror, pouted, did a tongue smile, and…and Logan realized he had been watching for more than a socially acceptable length of time.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat again. But he was saved from having to speak by a loud crackling at the center console.

Both Sides rushed over, Logan seizing the TV screen and pulling it down. Gray static skittered over the polished surface. He flipped two switches and turned a dial, trying to zero in on the signal.

“I meant to ask earlier…how do you know what to do?” Roman asked, tilting his head. “You were piloting before I think you even realized we were on a TARDIS in the first place.”

Logan froze in the middle of winding one of the cranks.

“I…I really do not know.” In fact, the more he thought about it, the less sense any of the controls made. “Now that you’ve drawn my attention to it, you are correct: rationally, I should not know the function of any of these…gizmos.” He gestured at the crank he’d been winding.

“Yet somehow my hands just…know.”

Roman leaned casually onto the console.

“When I built this LARP, I gave the Imagination quite a bit of leeway in how it wanted to construct our characters,” he said. “I’m thinking it took things a step further than costume changes, like making me the companion it thinks I most resemble instead of the companion I wanted to be.”

Roman bit his lip as though troubled, then clearly shook himself out of it.

“And it must have imparted some of the Doctor’s knowledge upon me.” Logan added, not sure how he felt about the Imagination having such a direct influence over his mind. He supposed if it didn’t get too invasive, and was confined to this one night, he could deal with it.

It had proven useful so far, after all.

Roman shot Logan a fierce grin.

“Indeed! So engage that big Doctor brain and let’s see who’s trying to call us. Allons-y, adventure awaits!”

“You know ‘allons-y’ is my line, right?” Logan said dryly.

He had to use his screwdriver on the screen before the picture came clear. The stream of static acquired the cadence of a voice…and then a disturbingly familiar face stared back at his own, looking equally shocked.

Roman, for the second time since entering the TARDIS, let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Chapter 3- The Witch’s Familiar

“If you’re going to take my stick, do me the courtesy of actually killing me. Teamwork is all about respect.”

Janus had just settled into his favorite chair with a mug of chamomile tea and a political science book when he was yanked…rather rudely, he might add…onto the deck of a spaceship.

He sighed, and dismissed his drink.

When one lived in the same mindspace as the literal embodiment of chaos, one unfortunately learned to expect such interruptions.

“REMUS!” he roared, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Did I not specifically ask to be LEFT ALONE tonight?”

Silence.

Deeply annoyed now, Janus took a moment to look around himself. This was not a normal spaceship; no windows, for one, and it was laid out in levels around a translucent column at the very center. His mismatched eyes followed the center rotor up and down, his mind almost placing it…

Something clumsily rose up from the deck with a clatter, causing Janus to summon his crook with a yell.

Only…the object that dropped into his hand wasn’t smooth wood, but a slender metal instrument just barely longer than his hand. A…sonic screwdriver? What the actual heck?

Well. It was what he had.

“Get back!” He pointed the instrument at the…figure…who still slowly climbed to its feet. It was an android or robot of some sort; humanoid, and the same kind of weirdly familiar as the ship.

“Janus?” the robot said, tilting its head.

Janus froze, all the scales standing up on his body. That was…that was Patton’s voice. Flat, mechanical, but unmistakable.

After all, Patton was the only Side who consistently called Janus by name.

“Patton?” Janus whispered.

“Oh, that was so weird-feeling! Thank goodness I’m not all by myself,” Robot-Patton said, putting a hand over his…well, where his heart should have been…in obvious relief. “But why are we both suddenly on the TARDIS?”

Janus drew in a sharp breath.

Of course, he should have recognized the stupid time rotor immediately. He’d never admit it to any of them, but he was as much of a Doctor Who nerd as Logan or Roman, sometimes going so far as to spy on them when they argued over episodes together.

To learn their arguing styles, of course.

Not because he had any desire to join those discussions.

And now, looking at Patton with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Janus deduced exactly what he was: a Mondasian Cyberman. They were older and cruder in design than the reboot versions…no wonder he hadn’t put a finger on it right away.

That wasn’t really the issue.

“REMUS!” Janus shouted again, more angrily this time. Bad enough his pleasant evening of solitude had been interrupted by…whatever this was. But putting the sweetest, most emotional Side into a canonically unemotional shell, a robot?

That was cruel. That was insulting.

It was too far, even for Remus.

“Janus, is everything okay?” Patton asked, coming closer. Janus shivered at the sound of that warm voice coming from a blank metallic face with empty eyes.

“Do you…feel all right?” Janus said in a hesitant voice.

“I’m a little chilly, but otherwise I’m in ship shape!” the other quipped, giggling. “Get it? Cause we’re on a ship?”

Is it…is it possible that he doesn’t know?

“Hilarious,” Janus deadpanned, but inside his thoughts spun.

He sensed they were in a dream construct within the Imagination, which meant this had to be Remus’s doing. Remus, who reveled in gore, despair, disturbing imagery, angst, and who was in charge of Thomas’s nightmares.

Remus could…and would, given the chance…recreate the experience of being a Cyberman down to the Last. Grim. Detail.

Maybe he hadn’t meant to ensnare Patton specifically to fill this role…Remus didn’t generally pull other Sides in for nightmares, come to think of it…but meanwhile, Janus didn’t want to find out what this might do to Patton’s head.

Worse, it was becoming clear that Patton was somehow oblivious to the state of his own body; he’d used his metallic hands to clutch at his metallic chest and found nothing wrong with either. He couldn’t hear the electronic rasp in his own voice, or the heavy clanging of his steps on the grated floor.

Should Janus say something?

Would Patton believe him if he did?

Ever since Thomas’s near mental breakdown after the disastrous wedding, Patton and Janus had orbited around each other in a state of tenuous truce. They talked now, sometimes, and those talks didn’t always end in arguments. Patton began to leave space for him by Thomas’s blinds when he was called up, and he…and by extension Thomas…occasionally actually sought his input.

But Janus, well.

Janus was still a liar.

The others still called him Deceit, either by accident (Logan) or out of spite (Virgil). Then there was Roman, who invented a colorful, wounding ego-jab for him every day, and Remus, whose fond nicknames tended to double as sex jokes.

Having no other real allies in the mindscape, Janus really, really didn’t want to screw up his tenuous alliance with Patton. Why sabotage his figurative “seat at the table” over one of Remus’s stupid nightmares?

Patton would assume Janus was slipping back into his old ways, lying just because he could, and Janus would never be able to prove otherwise. And later Patton would make that sour, pinched face he always made when he was disappointed, the one that made Janus want to crawl into a hole…

So.

Best to keep his observations close to the chest, for now.

“Do you have any idea what we’re doing here?” Janus asked, striding to the center console. True to dream logic, the controls made no sense and simultaneously made perfect sense.

Patton shrugged; a strange, clanky motion of his shoulders.

Janus sighed. “Although Remus has dragged me into dreams before, even he generally understands the concept of consent.” He casually flapped a hand. “And he always leaves you ‘light sides’ alone.”

“Honestly, this doesn’t feel like a nightmare to me,” Patton said, nearly making Janus choke. The Cyberman clanked over to stand by the console.

“It’s too clean,” Patton added. “Roman let me glimpse Remus’s side of the Imagination once, not long after he showed himself to Thomas, and it was…”

Patton trailed off.

“Fragmented? Chaotic? Disturbing?” Janus supplied.

“Sure, we’ll go with that,” Patton said quietly. “This,” he waved a hand around, “feels more like Roman’s work.”

“I suppose you would know.” Janus ran a thoughtful thumb over his face, tracing the ridge that ran from the corner of his mouth to his ear.

“And I would almost have to agree,” he added slowly. “If this was a nightmare, surely something ghastly would have happened by now. But my being pulled into one of Roman’s creations makes even less sense. He literally cannot stand me.”

“Maybe this is one of those dreams Thomas has sometimes after binge watching a show?” Patton suggested. “When there’s enough material in short term memory that the twins don’t get much input? Did Thomas binge a season of Doctor Who yesterday or something?”

And to think the others still view you as stupid, or slow-witted.

Janus bit back a smile.

“It’s a good theory, Patton, but no,” he said. “Thomas hasn’t really binged on much of anything lately.”

Patton ducked his head.

“You don’t…you don’t have to rub it in, you know,” he said lowly, the metallic rasp grating on Janus’s ears. “You and Logan have both made it pretty clear that I’ve been too strict with Thomas’s time.”

Janus fought to keep his expression neutral, but his stomach twisted.

Damn it.

Leave it to Patton to find guilt where none was meant. Even if Janus claimed he hadn’t meant it like that, Patton would probably not believe him.

Patton tilted his metal head as he examined Janus’s face.

“Did you know you have a mustache now? And a little goatee?”

“I have a what?” Janus felt at his face and groaned, his gloved fingers tugging at hair that most certainly did not belong on his face; with the scales, it probably looked hideous.

His entire outfit had altered in subtle ways, he realized. His usual plum tunic and trousers were now a brown suit and waistcoat ensemble, crossed with yellow pinstripes, with a black collared undershirt. A brown, knee-length suit jacket replaced his caplet, with subtle gold trimming. His yellow gloves were unchanged, thank goodness, and his hat…?

His hands flew up to his head and found something perched over his hair, sitting at an angle. Janus yanked down a screen at the console and stared. His beloved bowler had shrunk into a tiny, flat, rakish thing with a wide brim, festooned with a cluster of yellow rosebuds and black beads.

“What on earth, Remus?” he grumbled, turning his head from side to side. Well, if he had to be honest, pinstripes and a hatinator weren’t a terrible look.

“Well, if we’re on a TARDIS, I guess you’re supposed to be the Doctor,” Patton pointed out. “Which would make me your companion.”

Janus stroked his goatee and examined their surroundings in more detail. But am I a Doctor? he wondered. And if so, which one?

And whose TARDIS is this?

Because while it was clear they were on a TARDIS…what other class of spaceship had a time rotor?…he wasn’t almost certain this was not the TARDIS.

Every corner of the Doctor’s ship, no matter which face it belonged to, tended to overflow with bright, shiny, eclectic whimsy. By contrast, this one was plain, stark, with exposed metal beams and sharp angles.

Too dark, too full of shadows.

An awful suspicion rose up in his mind.

He crossed to one of the bookshelves, ignoring Patton’s soft inquiry, and his jaw clenched. There was the Necronomicon, shelved between the Liber Inducens in Evangelium Aeternum and The Black Scrolls of Rassilon, Book of Vile and its Black Appendix, The Ambuehl Lores and the Insidium of Astrolabus.

Janus finally looked at the sonic device he’d been holding all this time; seeing now that it wasn’t a screwdriver at all, and thanked every god he knew that he hadn’t tried to use it on Patton earlier.

It was a sonic laser.

Once again, even in a stupid, nonsensical dream, Janus had been cast as the villain.

His fist had collided with the bookshelf before he even realized he was moving, books falling to the floor. He punched it again, and again, until a cool rigid hand closed around his wrist and yanked him back.

“Janus, Janus, stop!” Patton yelled in his ear.

Janus wrenched his arm away and stalked back to the console, running gloved fingers over his scales, pushing them up and smoothing them down. The familiar sensation grounded him.

“You were right, Patton,” he threw over his shoulder. “This is definitely one of Roman’s dreams, and he definitely fucking hates me.”

Patton’s heavy footsteps clattered behind him.

“Language. And how do you know that,” he asked. “…Doctor?”

Janus whirled, lips curled in a snarl.

“I am not the Doctor, Patton, and we are not on the TARDIS.” He spread his arms to encompass them both, gesturing to the dimly lit spaceship. “Look around. Look at me!”

He turned, slowly, and eyed his mustached visage in the dark view screen.

“Clearly, I am the Master.”

Chapter 4- Nightmare in Silver

“You think he knows what he’s doing?”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.”

Patton rested his arms against the console and sighed.

Once again, someone I care about is upset, and I don’t know what to do. I guess I should be used to it by now.

It didn’t help that it was so cold in this TARDIS. He folded his arms around his middle, which felt strange and heavy, to combat the chill that seemed to have settled deep in his bones.

Janus stalked past again, grumbling to himself.

“Of course the Prince would pull me into one of his little ‘adventures’ without my consent. He probably needed an antagonist. And naturally the slippery snake would have been the first person to come to mind!”

Patton opened his mouth…though he had no idea what he was going to say…but Janus drowned him out.

“Come on, Roman!” he shouted, throwing his yellow-clad hands up. “You’ve had your fun. Yes, I’m evil, I’m the villain, I’m the bad guy, blah blah. Let’s have our epic confrontation or whatever nonsense you have planned, as I would very much like to get back to my reading sometime tonight.”

Silence.

Patton didn’t know what Janus was expecting.

“Look, maybe we should just play along for now?” Patton said aloud, wincing when Janus turned his murderous expression on him. The deceptive Side had such deep, cutting golden eyes, the human one so much darker than the other…cynical eyes that were, ironically, almost impossible to lie to.

They’d see straight through it.

“It takes a liar to know a liar.”

The glare quickly softened, though, which in Patton’s opinion said a lot about how far Janus had come.

“And how do you propossse we ‘play along’?” Janus said, hissing his s’s in frustration.

“Well, we’ve kinda decided this is Roman’s dream, right? And since we’re in his part of the Imagination, we know he won’t let anything bad happen to us…”

Patton trailed off at Janus’s pained expression, reminded of just how badly Janus and Roman’s last encounter had gone.

“What are you, a middle school librarian?”

“Thank god you don’t have a mustache.”

And I just stood there and did nothing…no, I can’t dwell on that right now. Patton shook himself out of the memory.

It was surprisingly easy; even his emotions felt a little heavy and muted. He supposed he wasn’t used to being in a dreamscape; unlike Roman, who played in them all the time.

I know Roman, Patton reasoned. He might hold a grudge for a while, but he wouldn’t actually be out to hurt Janus.

Right?

“So, if we’re on a time ship, on some kind of adventure leading up to a confrontation like you said, the first thing we’d have to do is figure out where we need to go,” Patton finished, shrugging.

Janus pursed his lips…which looked downright weird with a mustache and goatee, almost making Patton giggle…and began pushing buttons on the console.

“You are definitely incorrect, Patton,” he said, pulling up another screen and flipping a few switches. “If I have been cast as the villain in this ridiculous charade, that means Roman is likely prancing around as the Doctor right now, on the proper TARDIS. Which, as the Doctor’s nemesis, I should be able to contact…ha!”

The screen burst into static.

“Doctor, oh Doctor, do you read me?” Janus crooned, and if Patton hadn’t known just how angry he was in that moment…well, he would have never known.

Janus had tucked it away entirely, in half a second's time.

That’s the scary thing about him, Patton realized uneasily. He’s smart, nearly as smart as Logan. Smart enough to run circles around me, that’s for sure. And he’s easily as good an actor as Roman.

Those attributes, combined with his naturally manipulative nature, made it difficult to trust him.

Patton was trying.

He’d been trying since the wedding, and well, since everything else that had happened. (Patton still cringed when Thomas encountered even a picture of a frog.) He’d done a lot of thinking and growing that day (in more ways than one!), and he’d come to a disturbing, but inevitable conclusion.

Janus wasn’t evil.

He never had been.

Just like Virgil had never been evil. Mean, sure; and sarcastic, and spiteful…but at his core, Virgil had wanted what was best for Thomas.

They all did.

And then there was the uncomfortable corollary to that: Patton, despite his best efforts, despite his core Purpose…Patton wasn’t entirely and automatically good.

Two weeks ago, Janus had proven beyond a doubt that Thomas needed him…ruthlessly, cuttingly, but no one could say he hadn’t made his point. It had been Patton who’d inadvertently pushed Thomas to the brink of a breakdown, and Janus who had to pull them all back.

Despite Patton’s unease, and the little voice in his head telling him that Deceit couldn’t be trusted, could never truly be trusted because it was in his nature to deceive…Patton remembered how they’d pushed Virgil so hard he decided to duck out, and how much of a tragedy that could have been if they hadn’t all intervened to bring him back.

With a pang of guilt, he pictured Thomas lying on the floor, crushed under the metaphorical weight of everything Patton needed him to do to keep from being a bad person…

He would not make those mistakes again.

If Virgil could learn to work with them instead of against them, so could Janus. If Patton could learn to recognize when his own Purpose did more harm than good, so could Janus.

Patton had to believe that.

He’d made too many mistakes lately to believe otherwise.

The screen in Janus’s hands cleared to reveal…

“What? Logan??” Janus exclaimed, as a scream echoed somewhere in the background.

“D—Janus?” Logan countered, then looked over his shoulder. “Roman, for the love of Archimedes, will you stop shrieking? I cannot hear.”

The screaming cut off and Roman’s fuming face squished into the frame with Logan.

“Deceit! I should have known you would show up to ruin this!” he managed to shout before Logan shoved him away.

“Ruin…I’m sorry, what?” Janus glanced at Patton, looking honestly confused. “Is he roleplaying right now? We assumed this scenario was Roman’s creation.”

Onscreen, Logan placed his whole hand against Roman’s mouth to prevent him from interrupting.

“It is. But to my understanding, it was only supposed to involve myself and Roman, and…wait. You said ’we’.” Logan peered around. “Who else is with you?”

Patton started to wave, but his view was blocked by Janus bending close to the screen to whisper something. Suspicion flared in Patton’s stomach; old, familiar, but after the talk he’d just given himself, he purposefully pushed it down.

I won’t assume he’s being shifty unless he actually gives me a reason to.

Lifting his chin, he crept forward until he was next to Janus’s shoulder.

“Hey, Logan,” he said brightly, waving.

“Ah…hello, Patton,” Logan squeaked after a moment, his eyes still wide.

“Wait, Patton’s there? With the snake?” Roman’s voice yelled from the background, and then there was Roman’s face again.

“Patton?” Roman said, narrowing his eyes. “But why are you—?”

Both faces disappeared for a moment as Logan yanked Roman out of frame. Patton thought he heard a rapid, hushed conversation. He glanced at Janus, who only shrugged, looking at puzzled as Patton felt.

Roman’s face reappeared, solemn and deeply annoyed.

“Patton,” he said, and hesitated. “D—Janus. You two…well, you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Very reassuring,” Janus quipped.

“This was only supposed to be a two-person adventure: Doctor plus companion. I have no idea why the Imagination brought you both in as well; I certainly didn’t tell it to.”

“Aw, that’s okay, kiddo,” Patton started gently. “It’s not your fault—”

“Oh, sweetie.” Janus folded his arms. “I’m sorry, but that’s bull. Putting me in the Master’s shoes? Are we seriously going to pretend the Side who unashamedly hates me had nothing to do with that?”

“I didn’t!” Roman argued, his voice going high. “You really think I wanted you here, in any capacity?”

“Deceit…er, Janus, you are being unnecessarily antagonistic, and as such, unhelpful,” Logan cut in with his low, reassuring voice. “But Roman, it might behoove us to consider the role of subconscious influence. You may not have intended to pull the others in, and yet here they are.”

Roman looked at Logan, aghast, and Patton almost flinched at the raw hurt in his caramel eyes. The creative Side backed out of frame.

“So you’re on his side, too,” his voice said quietly. “Is that how it is?”

“I am not on anyone’s side,” Logan argued, raising his hands. “We are all currently in this situation together, and as such—”

Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off by another garbled transmission, taking over the screen and blocking out Logan’s face with crackly, purple static. A gray, snarling face flashed out of the haze, making Patton shriek in surprise and even Janus took a step back.

Then it was gone, dissolving back to static…and the sound of someone laughing filled the connection.

“Hellooooo, nurse,” a familiar sing-song voice crooned. “Did you miss me?”

Chapter 5- The Long Game

“You can’t just read the guide book, you’ve got to throw yourself in. Eat the food, use the wrong verbs, get charged double and end up kissing complete strangers. Or is that just me?”

Logan sighed.

He knew that voice; they all did. Even Thomas, unfortunately.

“Remus,” Roman hissed.

The mustached Side filled the screen, grinning madly. “Boo!”

“Get out of my scenario,” Roman said, his eyes flashing. “If you know what’s good for you.”

“Your scenario?” Remus echoed, faux-outrage in his expression. “Yours? The Dream Palace is my domain, too, brother, whether you like it or not.” He leaned closer, letting his nostrils and a single radioactive green eye fill the screen. “Did you really think you could keep me out?”

Roman made a sound of disgust deep in his throat.

“Am I to assume, then, that you are responsible for bringing in the other Sides?” Logan asked, careful to keep his voice even. Remus thrived on getting a rise out of people.

“Of course he is!” Roman snapped, throwing up his hands. “He loves to ruin things, especially my things.”

“Now why would having the others here ruin anything, brother?” Remus asked in a sickly sweet voice, propping his head on his hand. “Unless you intended for this nighttime romp between you and Logan to be private?”

Roman sputtered and glanced at Logan, red-faced, as Remus giggled.

“It was meant to be so, yes,” Logan supplied, unsure why Remus would find that funny…or why Roman would find it embarrassing.

“As amusing as this all is—” Janus’s crooning voice cut through the speaker.

“Great. You’re still here, snake?” Roman snarked, his arms folded around himself.

“We’re all listening, kiddo,” Patton’s metallic voice said.

Roman’s lips always curl into a pout when he is angry, Logan thought, eyeing him without turning his head, and he gets a little wrinkle between his eyebrows. Why…why am I noticing such things all of a sudden?

Maybe it was the stress, or the unfamiliar environment.

Or maybe it was the Rose Tyler outfit.

That skirt ought to be illegal.

Logan deliberately focused on the screen, his cheeks warm.

“So this is kinda new,” Patton went on, “all of us actually talking—”

“If Remus is responsible,” Janus cut in again, “then perhaps he would be so kind as to explain the objective of this late night group therapy session?”

Despite the biting sarcasm, Logan did appreciate Janus’s insistence that they get to the point, even if it did mean talking over Patton…

Speaking of, why would Remus have paired Patton with Janus?

Surely he should have grouped Patton with Logan and Roman, and put Virgil with Janus? Or…maybe not, given how Virgil hisses if Janus so much as enters the same room.

Ugh. Interpersonal drama. Logan was thoroughly sick of trying to keep track of who carried a grudge against whom, especially when it seemed to change from day to day.

And on top of that, why would Remus make Patton a Cyberman? None of these decisions make any sense…

“Right?” Roman agreed softly next to him, and Logan realized he’d said that last bit out loud.

“If anything, I should have been the unfeeling killer robot,” Logan murmured.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Specs.” Roman shot him a strange look, both warm and troubled. “And frankly I don’t give a stinky rat’s ass about my stinky rat brother’s sick thought process. What I want to know is why Deceit doesn’t want us to mention it around Patton?”

Logan, who was still mentally stuck on rodents and donkeys…Roman’s metaphors were always something else…shook his head slightly.

“There’s no logical way Patton is unaware of his condition,” Logan pointed out. “So I can only guess he wishes to protect Patton’s feelings on the matter, by not allowing us to talk about it in front of him.” He shrugged when Roman’s frown deepened. “Those two have been getting along much better these last few weeks.”

“I think you’re giving the snake too much credit,” Roman muttered. “Even after he impersonated you, Logan? C’mon. It has to be something else.”

Logan bit back a sigh.

He doesn’t understand, he thought guiltily. Because he doesn’t know what really happened…

“This is unacceptable, Deceit,” Logan snapped, flinging the crook away from his body. “I was in the middle of a discussion—”

“He won’t listen to you,” Deceit had said, and there was no sarcasm or snark in his voice.

“Patton asked for my opinion!”

“And he dismissed you from the conversation the moment that opinion went against his preconceived notions!” Deceit snapped back.

Silence.

Logan could hear the others still talking, out in the real world…without him…as the misty dregs of subconscious curled around their feet.

“You tricked him.” Logan folded his arms. “He was scared and off balance and you gave him an out.”

“I didn’t make him take it!”

Deceit sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Logan. You know he is wrong on this. You know what this is doing to Thomas. His unquestioning, black-and-white, juvenile morality; it’s not working anymore. Thomas needs to grow up, and Patton is not letting him.”

Logan bit his lip.

“Logan.” Deceit moved closer, dismissing his crook into mist and setting both gloved hands on Logan’s shoulders. Logan stiffened.

“Logic. Please. I am…no good at this.” Deceit dropped his head, his hat obscuring his eyes. “I operate through deceit because that is the only way I can make them acknowledge me.”

“They don’t acknowledge you because you operate through deceit,” Logan pointed out.

“A perfect catch 22.” Deceit let out a bitter laugh. “But a snake cannot change its scales and I don’t…I have tried everything I know. I cannot fix this from the shadows. I am out of ideas.”

A strange thought entered Logan’s mind.

“You care. You care what happens to Thomas.”

Deceit looked up, his mismatched eyes glittering with stinging intensity. “I am the literal representation of selfishness. Why the hell else would I go to all this trouble if I didn’t care?”

“Well…” Logan trailed off, troubled.

He’d let the others get to him, he realized in that moment. He’d let Roman get to him, with his talk of evil and Dark Sides and how they were always trying to tempt Thomas off the right path.

But…they were all part of Thomas, even the so-called “dark sides”.

Of course they wanted what was best for him…well, what Remus wanted at any given moment was debatable…even if they didn’t always go about it in the healthiest of ways.

Deceit had laughed then, high pitched and bitter.

“Really? Really? Even you think so low of me?”

“You are manipulating me right now.” Logan frowned. “You are using my concern for Thomas to make me trust you.”

“Yes! I am!” Deceit got in his face, fangs flashing. “I am a manipulative bastard because that is the lens through which my Source perceives me. But that doesn’t matter because you, Logic; you see through me, always have. And you know perfectly well that logically, any objection you have to my personality or my methods does not change the fact that I. Am. Right.”

He punctuated each word with a poke to Logan’s chest.

“Deceit—” Logan started.

“Janus.”

“What?”

Deceit sighed. “My name. My…real name. It’s Janus.”

Logan blinked. He knew the mythology, of course: Janus, keeper of doorways and thresholds, looking simultaneously to the past and future. Two faces. Seeing things from every angle.

Self-preservation.

“It suits you,” Logan said quietly.

Tension bled out of Janus’s shoulders, a stiffness Logan hadn’t even realized was there until it was gone.

“Thank you.”

“Why am I here…Janus?” Logan asked, glancing away. “What do you need from me?”

Janus looked at him intently.

“Let me speak to them as you.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, and Janus sighed, waving a hand.

“I know, I know, more deceit, more lies, but—”

“No, it’s…” Logan pressed his lips together. “You already pointed it out. They don’t listen to me, either.”

The bitter twist that accompanied those words was becoming an all too familiar sensation in Logan’s chest.

Janus snorted.

“Oh, they do. Eventually. They heeded your advice on how to deal with Remus.”

Logan shrugged uncomfortably.

“Look,” Janus added, “honest people know how to tell the truth, but liars…” he smirked, not especially nicely. “We know how to wield the truth to accomplish an end. I can pull Thomas and the others out of this rut, but they have to be receptive to my tugging on the reins.”

Logan pursed his lips.

“You won’t fool them. If you recall, you tried to impersonate me once already and barely lasted two minutes.”

“I didn’t have your blessing.”

Janus fixed Logan with his intense mismatched eyes again, and held out a hand.

Logan stared at it, torn.

This was Deceit, the master liar: Thomas’s entire capacity for deception condensed into a single, snake-faced Side. How could Logan possibly trust him to not make things worse, after all the falsehoods, the impersonations, how he’d manipulated them all in one way or another to get his way?

But…as much as Logan, personally, didn’t understand why that callback had been so important to Thomas…he could not dismiss the fallout Thomas had suffered as a result of missing it. The decision to attend the wedding had turned out to be a bad one.

Patton had been wrong to insist upon it over Janus’s objections, and over Roman’s.

Those were just the facts.

Janus sighed.

“I’ll unmask myself when an opportunity arises, if that would help,” he offered, and to Logan’s shock, slowly tugged off a glove. “I won’t…I won’t let it go on as long as it did with Patton.”

He offered his now bare hand to Logan again.

Out in the real world, Logan could hear Patton’s increasingly desperate and ridiculous responses to Thomas’s and Roman’s questions, and winced. Janus did the same.

“Please,” was all he said.

Logan sighed…it really couldn’t get any worse, could it?…and shook Janus’s hand.

In his TARDIS, Logan let out the sigh he was holding back.

He might have personal, concrete evidence that Janus wasn’t evil, but he also knew Janus had wounded Roman, badly, that day. The creative Side was simply not currently capable of viewing any situation involving Janus with any sort of objectivity.

Passionate, sensitive people like Roman tended to have an unfortunate habit of hanging onto grudges.

As Logic, Logan needed to remember that.

“Oh, all right,” Remus said, his voice crackling over the connection. “Since you’re all here—”

“Actually, Remus, we’re not all here,” Patton’s voice pointed out. “You all know perfectly well who we’re missing; we’ve done this before.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “‘Where is Anxiety?’” he quoted.

“You mean Tickle Me Emo isn’t with one of you?” Remus asked, looking delighted. “Oh dear, oh dear. Is he lost?”

“I mean, TARDISes are huge,” Roman pointed out. “He could be somewhere on one of our ships.” His voice dropped again. “I’ll bet Deceit stashed him away, because we all know how he hates Virgil.”

“Excuse you,” Janus’s voice interrupted, annoyed. “It is Virgil who hates me, not the other way around.”

“Let’s both scan our ships,” Logan suggested, hoping to head off an argument. Honestly, if Roman and Janus didn’t stop picking fights with one another, he was going to lose his marbles.

The scans pulled up nothing.

“Oh well,” Remus said with a shrug. “Guess the emo gets to miss out.”

Janus grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “lucky”.

“All right, here’s what’s going to happen.” Remus leaned close to the screen. “I’ve crash landed on a lovely snowbound planet that’s crawling with psychotic tin cans who like to roll around yelling ‘exterminate’.”

“Daleks? A snowbound planet, so not Skarro, but where else…” Logan narrowed his eyes.

“He’s on the Dalek asylum,” Roman said lowly. “That was one of the episodes I had in mind when I plotted this adventure.”

“Very good, brother.” Remus clapped his hands. “And up there in orbit is a ship full of people who’d really like to blow up the whole planet. Oh, woe is me, whatever shall I—”

“Save it,” Roman snapped. “You’d probably enjoy getting blown up.”

“Hmm, true.” Remus’s green eyes sharpened. “Think of the mess! Little bits of intestines floating through space, long pink ropey—”

“Or?” Logan interjected, before Remus gave Patton nightmares.

“Or you have to come rescue me!” Remus’s teeth flashed as he grinned. “Because otherwise it’s nighty-night for me and all the other aliens in the asylum.”

There was a beat of silence.

“As terrible as that sounds,” Janus drawled, sounding anything but worried, “given that none of this is real, and at least one of us would very much rather not be here at all…why exactly should your plight concern us?”

Logan secretly agreed, but felt his stomach clench when he glanced at Roman’s troubled face. None of this was real…right? Would something concretely bad happen to Remus if the planet he inhabited was blown up?

Surely not.

This was only a dream. Perhaps, then, Roman was merely upset that his twin had usurped his adventure for the night?

“Also.” Remus buffed his fingernails. “You should know that the Imagination will only release us if we complete the objective. In other words,” and he sneered, purple-shadowed eyes glittering, “we’re all stuck in this scenario until we’re all reunited.”

Remus giggled as Logan exchanged a shocked look with Roman.

“I don’t believe you. This was my dream,” Roman said darkly. “And I’ve just about had enough of all this!”

He stepped back and snapped his fingers with a flourish. Frowning, he did it again, and again, his face growing paler with each try.

“Roman, what—” Logan started.

“I can’t end it,” Roman whispered, still snapping. “He’s right. He’s…he’s sealed off the dream’s boundaries somehow. Remus!”

This he roared at the screen.

“Keeping Thomas trapped in a dream state is going too far, Remus!” he yelled. “I don’t care what kind of demented game you want to play with us, but we don’t bring Thomas into it.”

“Oh, you think I created an unbreakable dreamscape?” Remus snapped. “You let the Imagination have too much reign, my dear brother, and now neither of us have the power to end the dream ourselves. I estimate we have about ten hours before Thomas wakes up.”

For a moment, all Logan could hear was the soft whoosh of the time rotor, and Roman’s shallow, angry breathing at his shoulder.

“So I suggest you all pilot your ships to these coordinates,” Remus added, and a series of numbers and strange symbols flashed up on one of the smaller console screens. “And get started.”

The main screen blipped, and Remus’s face was replaced by an expressionless Cyberman and a snake-faced Side who looked extremely pale under his scales.

“Well,” Logan stated. “This is a problem.”

Chapter 6- Asylum of the Daleks

“You’re going to fire me at a planet? That’s your plan? I get fired at a planet and expected to fix it?”

“In fairness, that is slightly your M.O.”

“Don’t be fair to the Daleks when they’re firing me at a planet.”

The familiar wheeze of the TARDIS materializing filled Roman’s ears as he waited by the doors. Logan joined him a moment later.

“Ready?” he asked, smoothing a hand over his cravat.

He looks good as the Doctor, Roman thought, eying the slimming black and navy, the graceful arc that hand made as it adjusted a pair of glasses…

He shook himself out of his distraction. “Let’s do this, nerd.”

Logan opened the doors and the two stepped out…not onto the asylum, but onto a spaceship. Shiny copper terraces lined the vast walls in curving rows, leading the eye up to a domed ceiling with a clear view of black, star-studded space. Like a huge amphitheater, or stadium. Even Roman had to admit, the Imagination had really outdone itself on the realism.

Of course, given that the ship was filled with hundreds upon hundreds of Daleks calling for violence…realism wasn’t exactly comforting at the moment.

“Surprise, surprise, I don’t see my stupid brother,” Roman commented over the dull roar of the crowd.

“No. But I recognize where we are.” Logan waved a hand. “You were right about Remus’s location; this ship is from the episode ‘Asylum of the Daleks’, in Season 7. If we are following the basic plotline, Remus is likely somewhere down on the planet below, and we will be sent to him in due course. However…I am curious as to why all the other aliens are here.”

Roman looked around again, seeing that Logan was right. Daleks formed the majority of the crowd, but he also spotted Zygons, Sontarans, Silurians, other Cybermen, Ice Warriors…and quite a few aliens from older seasons he couldn’t remember the names of.

(Logan probably could.)

A second TARDIS materialized near their familiar blue box: plain, gray; a squat column of a ship. Janus emerged first, a silver instrument gripped in one gloved hand, followed by an old-school Cyberman…Patton. Roman frowned. Seeing that metal…being…and having to remember it was actually his friend was going to be difficult now that there wasn’t a screen separating them.

“Nice work, Roman,” Janus said, sidling up next to him and faux-clapping his hands. “A ship full of aliens who want us dead; always an excellent starting point for an adventure.”

“This is how the episode starts, Mr. Oh-I’m-Such-an-Expert-in-Doctor-Who,” Roman retorted. “Accuracy is important.”

“But this isn’t accurate,” Logan pointed out. “There should only be Daleks here.”

Roman folded his arms, stung.

Damn Logan and his damned need to be right all the time.

“I…well, I didn’t model this adventure after just one particular episode,” Roman admitted. “I wanted it to be a challenge, and it wouldn’t be if Logan and I already knew the ending. So no, I can’t exactly explain why all the other aliens are here, okay?”

Logan sighed.

“I was not criticizing you, Roman,” he said in a gentler voice. “As this has apparently become as much Remus’s and the Imagination’s handiwork as it is yours, it would be unreasonable to expect you to know what comes next.”

“THE DOCTOR AND THE MASTER WILL APPROACH THE SUPREME DALEK,” a grating robotic voice boomed across the ship, making them all whip around. A large white Dalek with an antenna on its shell loomed on a raised stage near the center of the amphitheater.

“They were expecting me, too?” Janus raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

The lights on the Dalek’s head flashed as it spoke again.

“THE DOCTOR AND THE MASTER WILL APPROACH WITH THEIR COMPANIONS.”

The four Sides exchanged a glance, and weaved through the assembled Daleks to the raised stage. The White Supreme Dalek was not the only occupant; it was flanked by an Ice Warrior, an Emojibot (which made Patton giggle), and…

“Look, a Janus,” Roman chortled, nudging the snake-faced Side in the ribs and pointing out the two-faced alien.

“You are all nerds and my logo is a two-headed snake,” Janus complained, rolling his eyes. “I literally do not know how all of you missed that obvious clue to my name.”

“DOCTOR,” the White Dalek said as they climbed the dais. “MASTER. WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF THE DALEK ASYLUM?”

“I’m just impressed my rat-faced brother wasn’t lying about his location,” Roman grumbled, and sputtered when Logan placed a hand over his mouth.

“According to legend,” Logan said, “you have a dumping ground, a planet where you lock up all the Daleks that go wrong.”

“The battle-scarred, the insane. The ones even you can’t control,” Janus clarified. His voice dropped to a hiss. “No wonder they ssstuck Remus there.”

Roman covered his mouth to keep from snorting.

The snake would not make him laugh.

“CORRECT.” The Dalek pushed a button and a hole opened in the middle of the floor. A snow-covered planet lay below them, pristine from this high up.

“Ooh, that’s,” Patton started, and let out a metallic gulp. “That’s quite a drop. Do we, ah, have to go down the same way? Cause I remember that part, and—”

“How many Daleks are down there?” Logan asked.

“A COUNT HAS NOT BEEN MADE,” the white Dalek said.

“Millions, certainly,” a new voice chimed in. The tall, robed, dark-skinned Janus stepped forward, their front face addressing them. “But they will not be your only concern. The population of the planet consists of more than just Daleks.”

Roman exchanged a suspicious glance with Logan. This wasn’t in the episode. This is new.

“What do you mean?” Janus, their Janus, asked.

The alien Janus turned to a nearby monitor, pulling up some information. The backward-facing face continued to address them.

“Some time ago, the Daleks began noticing a curious phenomenon,” they said. “Random people, from all different races and species, started turning up on various planets in this quadrant of space, including the asylum. No ships, no technology, and no knowledge of how they’d gotten there. At first the imprisoned Daleks on the asylum simply killed them off as they appeared—”

Patton visibly winced, even with his metal body, and Logan’s eyes grew flinty.

“—but the new arrivals eventually became too many to exterminate,” the alien Janus went on, unconcerned. “By now we suspect the planet has a population of over a billion, far too many for its automated systems to handle.”

They turned their forward face to the four again.

“THE ASYLUM IS COMPROMISED,” the Dalek Supreme proclaimed. “IT MUST BE CLEANSED.”

“Hang on, you’re still going to blow the whole planet up?” Roman protested. “A billion people?”

“To be fair, that is what they did in the original episode,” Logan pointed out quietly.

“But that was just Daleks!”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Ah, so genocide is fine when it’s only the evil aliens getting blown up?”

“You know, somehow I’m not surprised to hear you defending the bad guys!” Roman snapped.

“That is enough!” Patton snapped in his robotic voice, stepping between them and raising both his hands. Laser pistols popped out of both of them, making both Roman and Janus step back in alarm.

After a tense moment, Patton lowered his arms again; the guns clicked and vanished into their casings.

“Uh, sorry kiddos, I don’t know what came over me,” he said in a sheepish, more Patton-y voice. “Can we please not fight? It…it kinda makes me feel weird and jittery when you do.”

Roman stared at Patton’s blank Cyberman face and armored Cyberman body and swallowed, hard.

Their Patton would never deliberately aim a gun at anyone, let alone his family. But Cybermen were created to eliminate…or rather, delete…anyone who got in their way.

Did Patton even realize what he’d almost done?

What would happen, if and when he was forced to confront the reality of his body in this realm? What if he didn’t figure it out until he accidentally did something terrible? It wouldn’t be real, of course, but to Patton…that wouldn’t matter.

If his Cyberman programming forced or tricked him into hurting someone, the guilt of it would devastate him.

All I wanted to do was take Logan on an adventure, Roman thought bitterly. A fun little dream adventure where he could play one of his heroes. Was that too much to ask, Imagination?

He folded his arms and glared around the Dalek ship, anywhere but at his fellow Sides.

Whatever the hell this has turned into, I want no part of it anymore.

“In order for us to destroy the planet, we will need you to disable the planet’s forcefield—” The alien Janus started, but Logan held up a finger.

“Excuse you,” he said sharply. “We have not agreed to do anything, least of all help you murder a billion people whose only crime is to have accidentally turned up in your prison. Have you even attempted to solve that mystery?"

"And why do you care what happens down there?" Roman added, sneering. "If the insane Daleks are armed—”

“DALEKS ARE ALWAYS ARMED,” the white Dalek proclaimed.

“—then why can’t they defend themselves?” Logan finished, shooting Roman a questioning glance.

Roman huffed, and looked away.

“At first they did,” the Janus explained. “But as I said, the automated systems cannot keep up with the influx. Wars are being fought over food and other resources as we speak. A starliner crashed on the surface mere days ago, and—”

“Ah,” Logan said slowly. “You’re afraid, with all the shifting alliances and new activity, that the mad Daleks will escape in the confusion.”

“We do not know who or what is behind the influx,” the Janus said. “But eventually, they will start coming with ships, or they will build them on the surface, or reach out to those who could attempt a rescue.”

“‘If sssomeone can get in, everything can get out’,” their Janus quoted darkly.

The other Janus nodded. “Even the Daleks agree, their mad brethren cannot be allowed to escape. We, of this assembly—”

They waved to the assembled crowd of aliens, who observed in eerie silence.

“—have decided that one planet must be sacrificed for the greater good of the universe.”

Roman slowly and deliberately drew his sword (which the Imagination had kindly left as part of his outfit). It rasped as it emerged, the sound hair-raising in the sudden lull.

Instantly every Dalek gunstick and alien weapon on the ship was primed and pointed at the four Sides.

“And if we refuse?” Roman said evenly.

“THE DOCTOR AND THE MASTER WILL COOPERATE,” the Supreme Dalek warned, its lights flashing balefully.

“COOPERATE! COOPERATE!” the cry was echoed by the other Daleks, filling the ship with a cacophony of robot voices.

The alien Janus shrugged, spreading their hands.

“You don’t really have a choice. If you want to live, that is.”

“Is that so.”

Roman tensed and sprang at the white Dalek, not giving himself time to think. He dodged a blast from its gunstick and leaped, bringing his sword down hard. This being the Imagination, the katana cut through the Dalek’s metal armor like butter, and it clattered to the deck in two pieces.

There was a shocked silence…but no retaliation.

“Well?” Roman shouted, spreading his arms and turning in a slow circle. “This is me, not cooperating. What are you waiting for? Are you really going to shoot us?”

If they all died on this spaceship…the worst that would happen is they’d be kicked from the Imagination, and that was what they wanted, anyway.

“Roman,” Logan warned quietly, pointing.

Roman looked.

The white Dalek’s shell was…laughing?

“Oh, Roman,” Remus’s crackly voice emerged from the fallen Dalek’s casing. “Roman, Roman, Roman. My poor brave brother who thinks he can solve all his problems with steel and bravado. Did you really think it would be that easy?”

Each word bit like sandpaper against Roman’s ears.

He growled, and stalked to the Dalek’s top half, snatching it up and quickly locating a tiny speaker.

“C’mon, Remus. End this stupid charade,” he said quietly, holding the casing to his face so he could speak quietly. “You’ve had your fun at my expense. Go back to your pile of severed limbs and gloat if you must, but end this. For Patton’s sake, if nothing else.”

“I’ve already told you, it’s out of my hands,” Remus responded; typically, annoyingly casual. “If you want to end the game, you have to come down here and find me.”

Roman exhaled, resting his head against the cold, bumpy metal for a moment. His eyes burned, but he was Prince; he wouldn’t cry, not here.

“Why must you make everything difficult?”

“Roman, in all seriousness,” Remus’s voice dropped. “I didn’t know you were taking Logan on a date tonight—”

“It’s not a date,” Roman hissed, glancing at the other Sides…one in particular.

“The Imagination brought me into this without asking, just like it pulled the others in,” Remus went on. “I am aware of what has to happen, but I did not cause this.”

“You’re lying,” Roman said tonelessly.

Remus’s whiny voice grew hard.

“I don’t lie, and you despise that about me. You hide so much shit from yourself that it baffles you when I refuse to do the same.”

“Look,” Remus added when Roman didn’t respond. “The Imagination is clearly trying to get our attention. Sure, it usually goes through one of us first, but it doesn’t have to. When it comes down to it, Thomas’s mind answers only to Thomas. ”

“How are you so sure?” Roman frowned.

Was Remus seriously suggesting the Imagination they both oversaw had gone rogue somehow?

“Because I don’t curate my side as meticulously as you do, brother.” Remus chuckled. “I listen. I let the Imagination do as she pleases, free from all those pesky ethics and morals and other boring boxes you always force her into, so that our sweet Thomas doesn’t fear the contents of his own head.”

“You expect me to believe that you know what’s going on because,” Roman let every ounce of disdain seep into his voice, “the Imagination talks to you, and not me…because you don’t make her behave?”

“You should try letting her loose sometimes,” Remus drawled, “or you’ll end up with a cane up your butt like Nerdy Wolverine over there.”

“Don’t call him that,” Roman spat.

“What you so-called ‘light sides’ always get wrong,” Remus went on, “is that the juicy stuff, the gruesome and grim, the ‘bad’ thoughts that filter up from the subconscious; they can’t all be locked away and ignored.” His voice dropped ominously. “Repression can be very bad indeed, you know.”

Roman’s reasonable nature knew that his brother, despite his infuriating attitude, was actually making some good points. Thomas had been dealing with a lot lately; the tension in the mindspace felt like a ticking clock, counting down to the next disaster.

But at that moment, Roman had no desire to humor his twin.

All he wanted to do was lock himself into his own room in the Dream Palace and spend the rest of the night writing sad poetry about love, or listing his mistakes to himself until he fell asleep.

“I just wanted to show Logan a good time,” he said aloud.

“And oh dear, apparently you couldn’t even manage that correctly,” Remus said, implacably. “So maybe you should use this opportunity to get your head out of your poopy ass, and reevaluate yourself.”

Roman slammed the Dalek shell against the floor.

It cracked upon impact, the wiring inside sparking and finally flickering down to darkness. He ran his hands through his hair, reminded, once again, why he hated talking to his brother.

Like looking in a funhouse mirror…

“Roman…” Patton sidled up behind him, laying a cold hand on his back. Roman shoved the metal arm away and stalked back to the others.

“Let’s just get this done,” he said in a low voice.

“You will need these,” the alien Janus said, pushing a button on a nearby console. A translucent vertical tube rose from a gap in the floor, holding three bulky black bracelets.

“Ah yes, I remember this,” Logan said, striding forward and taking a bracelet.

“They will prevent—” the Janus started.

“The nano cloud from converting us into Dalek puppets, yes?” Logan interrupted, snapping the bracelet onto his wrist and handing another to Roman.

The nerd is getting into this, Roman thought as he put it on. I guess that’s something.

“The cloud is only active in certain areas of the asylum,” the Janus warned them again. “And those change as different factions seize control of different areas and weaponize them.”

Patton hesitantly raised a hand.

“Um, Mx. Alien, I can’t help but notice that there are only three bracelets, and four of us?”

Logan frowned. “But Patton, why would you—?”

“I’m sure it’s because I’m part snake, Patton,” Janus interrupted smoothly, swooping in to grab the last bracelet and snapping it onto Patton’s arm.

Roman exchanged an alarmed look with Logan; that was the last bit of confirmation he needed. Patton really was unaware that he was a Cyberman.

But why on earth would Janus go to such lengths to keep him in the dark about it? Even leaving aside the fact that Patton was a walking weapon; being a machine, he didn’t need protection from the nano cloud at all.

Whereas Janus…probably did.

But when Roman opened his mouth, Janus shot him a look full of daggers and promises of pain, and shook his head. Roman rolled his eyes and mentally washed his hands of the situation.

Typical Deceit. Protecting his lies.

At least Patton would be twice-protected. If the snake wanted to risk his life for a lie, let him.

“The gravity beam will convey you close to the crashed starliner,” the alien Janus said, and then there were Dalek blasters being shoved into their backs, propelling them toward the hole in the floor.

“Oi,” Roman protested, “get your freaky little eggbeater appendages away from me, you AAAAHHHH!”

There was a push, and they were falling.

Chapter 7- Oxygen

“Look at this. Classic design. Pressure seals. Hinges. None of that ‘shuk shuk’ nonsense.”

“Space doors are supposed to go shuk shuk.”

“Are you gonna be like this all day?”

Janus was done.

He sat up with a groan, brushing snow from his jacket and vest, making sure his hat and gloves were still in place. Everything ached. Bad enough he never wanted to be part this stupid dream game in the first place; now he was probably going to literally turn into a Dalek.

All because the Imagination is being a dick and Patton doesn’t know he’s a killer robot.

Wind gusted around him, making Janus glad that the Master, like the Doctor, usually preferred long sleeves and a coat. He stood, turning in a slow circle as he took in the lay of the land. Nothing but snow and rocks; true to the episode, still.

The gravity beam had split into four as it hurled them at the planet, but Janus was reasonably sure at least one of the others had landed nearby.

He hoped it was Patton.

Not because he was concerned or anything. It was just that either of the others would be absolutely insufferable company, that’s all.

“Janus!” a metallic voice called, and Janus breathed a sigh of relief.

Patton’s Cyberman body clattered awkwardly down a nearby snowbank, sliding the last few feet to land in a heap.

“It is all kinds of chilly down here.” Patton stood, and waved rather nonsensically. “Hullo there, Janus, so ice to see you.”

Janus rolled his eyes. (He would deny to his dying day that the corner of his mouth twitched at the ridiculous pun.)

“If this scenario is consistent with its source material,” he said, gesturing to the closest ridge, “there should be an escape pod from that crashed ship nearby. Come on.”

He set off across the snow, Patton following in his wake.

“Say, what do snowmen call their offspring?”

Janus exhaled carefully. Hoo, boy, maybe Logan wouldn’t have been so bad…

“I haven’t the faintest.”

“Chill-dren!” Patton chortled at Janus’s grimace. “What did one snowman say to another?”

“St. Genesius spare me,” Janus grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What, pray tell, did one snowman say to another?”

“‘Do you smell carrots?’”

Janus quickly covered his mouth.

“You smiled,” Patton crooned.

“I most certainly did not.”

“Okay, okay, one more.” Patton scurried ahead and turned around, so that he was walking backwards. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” Janus said flatly.

“Snow.” Patton hooked his thumbs into the metal rim at waist, like one might on a pair of pants. Janus swallowed and looked away.

“Snow who?”

“Snow laughing matter, Janus, I don’t know why you’re smiling.”

Janus snorted before he could hide it, and cleared his throat.

“I am not smiling, how dare you.”

“That’s twice now!” Patton cackled, the sound coming out all distorted. “Admit it.”

“I refuse,” Janus said, drawing himself up. “You won’t make a liar out of….”

Liar.

He felt the joke fall flat and cringed. Even though Patton’s metal face couldn’t react, those metal shoulders visibly stiffened.

Too soon.

Liar.

Too much history between them.

Besides, you are a liar, his mind whispered. Lies of omission are still lies, Deceit, and you’re doing that right now.

Janus gritted his teeth. They topped a ridge; the expected escaped pod lay half-buried near another ridge, across a flat stretch of snow. The two Sides glanced at each other and continued their journey in silence.

Patton seemed disinclined to continue his little pun war.

Janus badly wanted to say he hadn’t minded the punning, but truthfully, keeping silent was easier. Patton’s baffling ignorance over the state of his own “flesh” was starting to wear on Janus’s conscience. He knew the longer he kept it secret, the worse the fallout would be when Patton finally learned the truth.

The urge to come clean was an unfamiliar one for him, and extremely uncomfortable.

Ironic, the master liar, conflicted about maintaining a lie.

The old him would have laughed, but…the old him hadn’t heard the sincerity in Patton’s voice, when he’d spoken Janus’s true name aloud for the first time. The old him had assumed Thomas would reject him forever…because of Patton.

And then, with Janus still smarting from the sting of Roman’s mockery, Patton had said his name.

Patton had trusted him to take care of Thomas in his stead, when the moral Side knew he had failed at it. The memory still made all Janus’s scales tingle and his heart beat a little sideways.

The new him…this him…couldn’t find it in his small, shriveled, but very much present heart to risk pushing Patton away.

They reached the pod.

Muffled shouts and something that sounded like blaster fire filtered up from inside, making them exchange another glance.

Janus set a hand on the ice-crusted latch.

“Remember, we’ll have to fight our way through a bunch of dead Dalek puppets,” he reminded Patton.

“That’s a lot of noise for just a few puppets,” Patton said softly. “That canonically shouldn’t even be awake yet.”

“I know, and that is strange,” Janus agreed. “Maybe someone got here before us. But we won’t know exactly what to expect until we get down there.”

Patton sighed, a cloud of frost puffing out of his small, rectangular mouth.

Janus pushed the latch, popped his head in, and was met with a scene of utter chaos.

About six or seven human-Dalek puppets, with stalks sticking out of their heads and blasters sticking out of their hands, were locked in a fire fight with a horde of robotic humanoids that looked like they came from the Fourth Doctor’s era, if Janus remembered correctly. Round, bulky shoulders and faces that looked like metal sunbursts.

Both puppets and robots were using the seats as cover, blaster fire zinging back and forth and exploding against the walls in little showers of sparks. Janus and Patton would be directly in the blast zone when they jumped down, a little closer to the robot side.

“Well, someone definitely got here before us,” Janus muttered.

He withdrew his head and studied Patton. Honestly, with his metal body he’d be in far less danger, and those guns in his arms would actually be useful in this situation…but telling Patton he was a walking weapon, now, would definitely not go over well.

“The hatch down into the asylum should be in the cockpit of this thing,” he informed Patton. “There’s a lot of blaster fire, though, so—”

“—don’t get cold feet and hesitate?” Patton finished.

Something in Janus’s heart twisted…something he didn’t dare examine too closely.

“Say, Patton,” he said softly, looking away.

“Yes?”

“What did the hat say to the scarf?”

Patton turned his black Cyberman eyes on Janus.

“What?”

“‘You hang around, and I’ll go a-head’.” Janus let a smirk curl his lips.

Patton was silent for a moment, but then he began to giggle, covering his mouth.

Janus pulled out his sonic laser.

He dropped into the pod with a swing of his legs, catching one of the robots in its metal chest. It fell with a screech, careening into another of its kind, but by then Janus had gained his feet and ducked behind a seat. Patton clattered down behind, with less grace and far more noise…and a random Tivolian tumbled in directly after him.

Patton caught the rodent-faced alien with a startled shout, immediately dropping them again when they screamed and struggled. Janus blinked; where the hell did they come from?

The Tivolian tumbled across the pod’s floor, only making it a few feet before getting cut down with blaster bolts. Janus saw Patton cry out, and caught the Side before he could leap out and draw more hostile fire.

“It’s too late!” he shouted over the noise.

“I should have hung on!” Patton, if he’d had a proper face, would probably be in tears. He hated death. “I don’t know why they were so scared of me!”

Janus could answer that…

“I’m more curious about where they came from,” he said instead, frowning. “They surely weren’t up on the surface with us. It’s like they just teleported in, but Tivolians don’t teleport. They don’t have the technology—”

A blaster bolt exploded across the top of the seat they were hiding behind, showering them in sparks and forcing them both to duck.

“Janus!” Patton snapped. “We need to get out of here!”

“Right.” Janus brandished his sonic. “We’ll just have to run for it.”

He leaped out, activating his weapon, and discovered that a sonic laser had a very satisfying range and kickback. Forget the Doctor’s screwdriver, he thought, blasting a Dalek puppet aside and ducking another gun blast. I wonder if the Imagination will let me keep this…

A cold, dead hand seized the collar of his jacket, yanking him back.

Then there was a yell, a clatter, and Janus turned in time to see Patton blast a puppet with a fire extinguisher. The moral Side chuckled at Janus’s shocked expression.

“I’ve seen this episode too, you know,” he pointed out.

Janus huffed.

The two dodged and fought their way to the cockpit; Janus used his laser to seal the door behind them. For a moment they simply stood there, catching their breath.

(Well, Janus caught his. Did Patton even breathe, in that form?)

“Unauthorized personnel may not enter the cockpit.” Remus’s high-pitched voice came over the speaker system. “Unless it’s an actual pit full of cocks, in which case, where’s my invitation?”

Janus was going to need something a lot stronger than tea, once they finally got out of this mess.

“Remus, for god’s sake,” he grumbled.

“God has nothing to do with my cock, but if that’s how you want to roll…” One of the cockpit screens flickered to life, and there was Remus in all his ruffly, sparkly, mustached glory. Clara’s warm, messy cove spread out behind him, reds and yellows clashing horribly with the green of his sash.

Janus moved so that his chest and shoulders blocked the screen, to prevent Remus from catching sight of Patton. If Remus saw Patton as a Cyberman, Janus would never be able to convince him to keep his mouth shut.

“All right then, where do we find you?” Janus said. “And where did the others land? Not to mention our dear missing ball of anxiety.” He leaned forward, putting on his trademark smirk. “Come on, Re. You must know. One Other to another, you can tell me.”

“Aww, Jan Jan,” Remus crooned, also leaning forward. “You care.”

“I most certainly do not!” Janus sputtered, and cleared his throat. “Patton was worried about Virgil, that’s all.”

“I was?” Patton asked from the other side of the space. “I mean, of course I am, but—”

“But surely you can at least tell us why this scenario isn’t playing out quite like the episode it comes from,” Janus interjected smoothly. He didn’t want Remus to notice the metallic quality of Patton’s voice.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’ve already told you everything that I know.” Remus shrugged. “Roman really did give the Imagination too much freedom.”

Janus frowned.

“Then how do you know the scenario will end when we find you?”

“I actually don’t! Isn’t it great?” Remus crowed, clapping his hands. “I love stories where anything could happen. We could all get vaporized, or have our flesh eaten by—”

“Remus, focus.” Janus pitched the bridge of his nose. “So, given what we know of this particular episode, you’re assuming that our main tasks are to come get you, and to drop the forcefield on the planet so the Daleks can blow it up.”

“That’s the idea, Double Dee!”

Behind him, Janus heard Patton make a weird, choked noise, and grimaced.

“By the way, Roman and Logan are already inside the asylum.” Remus grinned, the whites of his eyes flashing. “So if you want to catch up, you’d better scute those scaly asscheeks along. Check the floor for a breach; that will be your way out. A breach, ha! Like a butth—”

Janus pointed his laser and fired on the screen, cutting the transmission and sending sparks flying all over the cockpit. An awkward silence fell in which he turned to face Patton, who of course wore no visible expression.

This, and all the reasons for it, annoyed him further.

“I swear if you ask one question about scutes or scales,” he warned, holding up a finger.

“I wasn’t…going to.” Patton held up his hands. “Logan kind of taught us how to tune out the more, er, naughty things Remus says. But I am wondering,” he added hesitantly. “Are you…feeling okay?”

“Fabulous. Peachy,” Janus said flatly, kneeling to feel around on the floor. “Fantastic, allons-y, geronimo, what have you.”

“It’s just, you seem a little angry,” Patton went on. “And you remember, that’s, that’s the first step in being converted. Maybe you should wear the bracelet for a while? We can trade on and off…”

Patton’s fingers went to his wrist, but Janus stopped him with a gloved hand on top.

Tell him, an inner voice whispered. Tell him now, before this gets any more awkward.

“That’s sweet of you, but no, I’m merely frustrated,” Janus admitted. “I would very much like to get out of here, so I can return to the pleasant evening I was having before all thisss.”

He gestured irritatedly around them.

Patton joined him on the floor and together they found a person-sized hole, with a rope ladder hanging down.

“Hey, Janus,” Patton murmured, as they were about to start the long climb down. “Can I ask you something?”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re going to ask no matter what I say?” Janus said wryly.

“Do you remember when that puppet attacked you in the main part of the ship, and I fought it off with the fire extinguisher?” Patton ducked his head.

Janus raised an eyebrow.

“They hesitated, when they saw me.” Patton’s unnaturally black eyes met Janus’s. “That’s why I had time to grab the extinguisher.”

Janus swallowed, his heart starting to pound.

“Well, I’m sure they aren’t used to anyone fighting back—”

“No, they hesitated like…like I scared them or something,” Patton pressed. “It was weird, Janus. Please. If there’s something you need to tell me…you know you can.”

Janus’s mouth compressed into a flat line and he looked away, bitterness welling up inside him.

“Can I, Patton?” he asked softly, holding up a gloved hand. A yellow indictment of everything he was. “Can I really?”

Patton sighed, long and deep.

“Touché.”

Chapter 8- Extremis

“Something’s coming. And I’m blind. How can I see them when I’m lost in the dark?”

Logan awoke to someone shaking him.

He opened his eyes to an expanse of blurry blobs and color splotches, and Roman’s sharp, frantic face very close to his. His eyes have amber flecks, his brain noted inanely. But why is he clear when nothing else is…?

Roman threw his head back and exhaled in obvious relief when Logan groaned, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.

“Singing chimeras, Specs, I was starting to worry.”

Logan sat up and touched his bare face. Ah, there’s the problem.

“Where are my glasses?”

Roman was quiet.

Logan leaned closer to the other Side, squinting. Bad eyesight was such an annoyance. If only Thomas’s developing brain hadn’t decided early on that “smart and logical” also meant “stereotypically nerdy”, and pigeonholed his own sense of Logic into actually requiring corrective eyewear.

“Roman?” Logan tried again.

“Um. About that.”

Roman bit his lip, and handed over a smashed set of frames. Logan’s stomach sank as he examined them; the lenses were shattered beyond repair.

“I found them next to you like that, when I woke up,” Roman explained. “I’ve been trying to summon another pair, but for some reason the Imagination won’t let me!”

Logan pushed down a growing sense of dread, that he’d have to navigate the rest of this adventure half-blind.

“My glasses getting broken is obviously not your fault. We did fall down a rather deep hole,” he pointed out. “But what do you mean, the Imagination isn’t letting you?”

“I mean it’s not letting me!” Roman threw up his hands. “I could summon things on the TARDIS just fine, but now…” He sighed. “I am Creativity, right?”

Logan tilted his head and frowned.

“Is that…Roman, that is a nonsensical question. Of course you are.”

“So summoning a tiny object in my own dream scenario should be easy.” Roman hung his head.

“How long have you been trying?”

“Twenty minutes, maybe?” Roman shrugged, still not looking at him. “All that time, and yet still I fail.”

Logan resisted the urge to point out that twenty minutes should be long enough to realize a thing might be outside of one’s control, and to start brainstorming other options.

Stubborn fool.

“Maybe it’s just as well we picked the wedding over the callback,” Roman added darkly, an uncharacteristic glower twisting his face. “When Thomas’s Creativity apparently can’t even control his own dreams.”

Oh…this isn’t about glasses at all, is it? Logan swallowed around an achy sensation in his chest; the one he always got when something was wrong and Roman made that face and he just…needed to fix it.

Native English speakers have a passive vocabulary of around forty thousand words, he thought, frustrated. So why, in situations like this, am I constantly struggling to find the right thing to say?

The resigned set to Roman’s jaw prompted Logan to try.

“Your inability to summon things may not be your doing,” Logan said, laying a hand on Roman’s knee. “Perhaps the Imagination is attempting to impose a sense of realism on this adventure.”

“Realism,” Roman echoed flatly. “In Doctor Who.”

Logan huffed. “You must admit, summoning objects out of thin air does defy even time-traveling alien logic.”

Roman’s face twitched in the tiniest of smiles. “So why did it work before, Teach?”

“Maybe it only worked on the TARDIS because the ship already defies every known rule of physics.” Logan shrugged. “I admit I cannot possibly intuit the inner workings of the Imagination; I can only theorize from what I have observed thus far.”

Roman chuckled softly to himself, and bumped Logan’s shoulder.

“Aww, Nerd, I’m touched. You’re trying to logic me into feeling better.”

“Is it…working?” Logan asked.

“Kind of?” An unreadable expression flitted over Roman’s face. “At least one of us is still grounded in reality.”

“Where else could one possibly be grounded?”

Roman laughed outright at this.

“Oh, Logan. Never change, okay?”

He stood up, and pulled Logan to his feet as well.

“Where are we?” Logan asked, squinting.

He could tell they were in some large, open space; all blacks and browns and dull grays. Blurry domes of copper were scattered amongst what could be bits of fallen scaffolding or machinery.

Logan was also hyperaware of Roman’s warm arm pressed against his, and his own hand clasped tightly within the Prince’s larger grip. With everything else blurry, physical sensations were all the more distracting.

“Don’t panic, okay?” Roman started.

Logan scoffed.

“You are fortunate that I am not Virgil,” he commented wryly. “Because starting a sentence like that would almost certainly have caused him to panic.”

“Well, it’s just, do you remember that scene in the Dalek asylum episode where Rory wakes up in the hanger full of dead Daleks who turn out to be not actually dead?” Roman said in a rush. “Because…yeah.”

Oh. Logan swallowed.

“So, I am guessing that those copper domes are actually Daleks?” he said softly.

Roman snorted.

“Copper domes? Jeesh, your eyesight sucks.”

“I am aware,” Logan said flatly. “Which means you will have to guide us out. If I remember correctly, as long as we are quiet and don’t kick any pipes on the ground, we won’t wake them up.”

Roman let go of Logan’s hand… and replaced it with an arm wrapped around his waist. Logan only held back a squeak because it would have been extremely undignified.

“Hey, relax, I got you, Specs.” Roman’s breath ghosted over Logan’s ear. The Prince’s shorter stature allowed him to fit snugly against Logan’s side; if Roman turned his head, he could comfortably tuck his face into the crook of Logan’s neck.

Not…not that Logan imagined him doing any such thing.

Roman drew his sword with a metallic rasp, prompting Logan to pull out his screwdriver, and they set off across the floor.

It was a strange, vulnerable sensation, Logan thought, being this close to another, being forced to rely on him for direction…or maybe it was just that Roman’s Rose Tyler outfit left so much more skin on display than his usual royal attire…

To be fair, Roman’s bare arms and short skirt and leggings were the only non-blurry things in Logan’s line of sight at the moment.

“You know, I am not sure how much good a sword will do against a Dalek now,” Logan said dryly (to distract himself). “Since it would seem that the Imagination is now attempting to be realistic.”

“It’ll be a lot more useful than a screwdriver,” Roman retorted. “Honestly, the War Doctor had a point. The later seasons really do start to treat the sonic like a weapon, and it looks ridiculous. There’s an oily-looking puddle to your left.”

They dodged around it.

“The sonic screwdriver is an ingenious, multipurpose tool,” Logan argued. “Fitting for a character who is, at heart, a pacifist. In the right hands, it most certainly could serve as a weapon. For example one could scramble a Cyberman’s circuits, short out fuses, or calculate the precise amount of blunt force needed to take down an enemy.” Logan waved the hand with the screwdriver around them. “All things that a sword could not accomplish.”

“Sure,” Roman drawled, leading them around one of the still, silent Daleks, “but you don’t point a sonic at an oncoming Dalek and expect to survive. Even the Doctor had more sense than to try that. At least a sword could cut off its blaster arm.”

“We don’t know how strong Dalek amor is down here,” Logan pointed out. “You could end up breaking your sword and then where would we be?”

“Better off than we’d be while you assembled a cabinet at them!”

Logan’s foot collided with a metallic something that made an awful CLANG and went skittering across the floor. Roman pulled them up short, his face going pale.

All around them, round blue lights began to flicker on, one by one.

“I kicked the pipe, didn’t I?” Logan said, his heart starting to pound.

“You kicked the pipe,” Roman confirmed in a sick voice.

“EGGS…!” a crackly Dalek voice next to them stuttered, making them jump. “EG-EG-EG-EGGS…!” Its twin lights flashed erratically as it spoke.

“Roman,” Logan started.

“‘Eggs, you may laugh and that’s great…’” Roman sang in a wavering voice. “‘Your smiles are what make my day’…”

The Dalek rolled toward them creakily. “EEEEEGGS!”

Logan’s breathing sped up. Another Dalek rolled in from the other side, causing him to stumble. All around them, mechanical creaks and groans and a chorus of digitized voices rose up…

“EG…EG-EGGS…TERM…”

“Roman, I believe we need to run.” Logan could see the Dalek almost clearly now, its eyestalk glowing, its gunstick rising up.

“…IN…ATE…”

Blurry, flashing lights closed in.

“‘My self-worth’s fragile like an egg,’” Roman sang. The hand gripping Logan’s middle tightened painfully. “‘When it breaks it’s tough to put together again…’”

“EX…TERM…IN…ATE!”

“Roman!” Logan shouted. “Get us out of here!”

“EXTERMINATE!”

A blaster bolt warbled past and exploded over their heads.

Roman shuddered and seemed to snap out of it, seizing Logan’s arm and pulling him so hard he nearly fell. Logan staggered, hanging onto Roman’s hand for dear life as they ran, and ran, and blaster bolts burst at their feet and shattered around them.

“This way, boys and boys,” Remus’s voice sing-singed across the room. Roman yanked them hard in that direction.

“REMUS!” Roman shouted as they ran, and Logan was impressed he had the breath for it. “Remus, you better open that door like you’re supposed to or we are DEAD!”

“Oh, keep your pants on, brother,” Remus snarked, sounding a little closer. “Although maybe Logan would prefer that you didn’t—”

Whatever else he said wasn’t audible over a hanger full of jabbering Daleks and firing blasters.

They reached a wall and Roman shoved Logan down.

“Straight ahead, crawl. Go, go, go!” he said, turning and brandishing his sword.

Bless that Prince and his stupid, stupid bravery.

Logan went, nearly tripping over his coat as he crawled under the barely lifted hatch door. Once he was past the threshold Roman flung himself under and through, knocking into Logan and sending them both sliding across the floor.

There was a hiss and a heavy thud that Logan hoped was the door shutting behind them, and finally, blessed silence. They both leaned against the wall for a moment, catching their breath.

Roman thunked his head back.

“Jesus Christ Superstar,” he muttered.

“Your welcome.”

Remus’s voice crackled through the hallway. Roman growled and sat up straighter, looking around as if his brother would magically appear.

“I did just save your lives,” Remus added. From the direction of the sound, Logan guessed he was talking through a speaker somewhere on the far wall.

“Yeah, and I’m still gonna whip your butt when this is all over,” Roman groused.

“Oooh, do I get to choose the instrument?”

Roman sputtered, but Logan grabbed his arm before he could yell back.

“You know he just likes to get under your skin,” he murmured, and raised his voice. “Thank you for opening the door, Remus. We are grateful for your help.”

There was a silence on the other end, with a quality that Logan would have described as shocked.

“Well. You two lovebirds better move along,” Remus drawled finally, shrill as ever. “Before the Silurian army shows up.”

“Excuse me, the WHAT?” Logan exclaimed.

No answer.

“Remus!” Roman clambered to his feet and helped Logan up.

Nothing.

Except now that Logan was listening for it, he definitely heard approaching footsteps and murmuring, heavily-accented voices. And they were getting closer.

“That dick,” Roman grumbled through gritted teeth.

“To be fair, I think he is trying to help,” Logan pointed out. “In his own way.”

“Don’t be fair to my brother when he’s just led us out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

“We are neither in a pan nor on fire, Roman; I have never understood that saying—”

The lights dimmed and flashed an eerie purple; Roman silenced him with a hand over his mouth. There was a voice…not Remus’s, not alien, not like anything Logan had ever heard. It chanted something, over and over again, before fading out.

The lights flared back to normal.

Logan waited, counting Roman’s shallow breaths against his neck.

Nothing.

“What was that?” he asked softly.

“Beats the hell out of me,” Roman responded. “But I guess that’s our cue to go. Stay close, Mr. Magoo.”

Logan grumbled, but allowed Roman to recapture his hand and lead them in the opposite direction of the approaching footsteps…which had resumed the moment the purple light vanished.

Next time Roman asked him to come on an adventure, he was bringing a spare set of glasses.

9 notes · View notes

babbushka · 4 years

Note

Idk why but our apartment has been having power outages for the past few days... (maybe because of the construction down the street) but it has had me wondering how Flip would react? Would he get frustrated and try to fix it? Or spend the night doing something else? ;) any thoughts would be much appreciated ❤ oh and hope you have a wonderful sunday~~

(1.6k, flip bein kinda a dumbass but we love him anyway lol)

He was having a great fuckin’ day, if he was being honest. Work was smooth sailing, he and Ron were getting close to solving up this new case Bridges assigned, and it had put his mood up on cloud nine. He drove with the windows down, heading home, heading to you.

The thought of you only put him in a better mood, only made him even happier. He was going to shuck out of his coat and scoop you up in his arms and kiss you right there on the porch. He had a bouquet of flowers buckled into the passenger seat for safety, was going to give them to you to make you smile.

It wasn’t too late, he even made it home in time to help you cook dinner. Well, you never really let him do any of the cooking bit, but he was an expert vegetable slicer, you always said so. He pulls up to the driveway, humming along to whatever tune was on the radio, feeling like the luckiest man in the world when he sees you reading on the front porch.

You take notice of his truck immediately, and you lean up against one of the porch supports, your pretty dress fluttering in the breeze as he approaches you, sucks a deep drag out of his cigarette before pulling you into his arms.

“Flip! Oy am I glad to see you.” You beam up at him, but he drowns, because you don’t normally use that sort of phrasing.

“What’s the matter ketsl?” He asks, worried about you immediately, looking beyond you at the house – when he randomly notices, “Why’s there no lights on?”

You roll your eyes at the world and sigh, pout up at him. You’re annoyed about something, which is alright, that’s alright. Flip can handle when you’re annoyed, he just would burn the entire world down to the ground if you were hurt, upset.

“Ugh the fakakta power’s out.” You groan, waving a hand about. “I tried calling the electrician but the phone isn’t working, on account of the power’s out.”

He chuckles then, leads you inside. It’s not too dark out yet, but the sky a soft purple color that tells Flip he’s just in time. Any later and he might not have safely found his way home, might not have been able to see the house even with his headlights. It’s not too dark, and it’s not too hot, but he can immediately feel that there’s no moving air or anything, and that worries him.

“Sweetheart you should’ve come to the station or something, I can’t have you sitting around the house with no a/c.” Flip said, hanging up his coat and unbuttoning his flannel.

“Oh believe me if it went out earlier in the day I would have, but it only blew an hour ago.” You explained. You go into the kitchen, and he follows, always right on your heel when he’s finally home with you, and he decides that he’s not going to let the power being out ruin his mood.

“Alright.” He shrugs out of his flannel so that he’s standing in his t-shirt and jeans in the kitchen, rummaging through one of the drawers for a flashlight.

“Wait where are you going – honey I don’t think – ” You start to warn him, but he waves it off.

“Ketsl don’t worry, I’ve got it all under control.” He says, cocky and confident, “I’m going to go change the fuses, they probably all went out.”

“You really think they all went out at once?” You raise a brow at him, skeptical.

“Yeah honey you know that old thing with the hanukkah lights, one light goes out they all go out? Same thing.” Flip reassures you.

He wasn’t an electrician or anything, not by any means. But he understood circuits, knew how the whole thing worked. Sort of. Maybe only a little. But it would be enough, wouldn’t it? I mean really, Flip thinks to himself as he goes into the garage where the breaker box is, how hard could it be?

“I don’t know.” You say in a sing-song voice, and he realizes he’s said that last part out loud.

“Aw come on, have a little faith in me would you?” Flip teases, hanging in the doorway for a minute, leaning down and puckering up his lips, “Kiss for good luck?”

You laugh and roll your eyes, wanting to make some sort of remark about well which is it, faith or luck? But you just stand there in the hallway outside the garage and watch as he shines his flashlight on the floor, walking a path to the far wall.

The breaker box in the house was by the good people over at Federal Pacific. He remembered that, he’s pleased to find, remembers reading the instruction manual when he first had the damn thing installed. Of course, that had been about seven years ago, but he figured it was all stored away in his brain somewhere.

He opens up the panel and is met with the two neat columns of a shit ton of switches with a diagram that he knows he should know what it means, but he just doesn’t. He stares at it for a minute, and then another minute, and then probably for too long, because you’re sticking your head in and asking,

“Everything okay in there?”

He startles at the sound, and he swears he hears you chuckling about it, so he randomly just starts flipping the switches, holding the flashlight with one hand and clicking all these latches with the other.

“When I count to three I want you to try turning on one of the lights, okay?” He calls out to you.

“Count to three you got it!” You say, before leaving the doorway to go find the nearest light switch. He knows there’s one in the little hallways right outside the garage, so he doesn’t wait too long.

“One…two…three!” He says, flipping the master switch.

“Nope.” You reply with a sigh.

“No?” He frowns, turning around to where he hears your voice.

“No, still dark.” You explain, flipping the light switch a couple of times just to be sure.

“Fuck.” Flip chews on the inside of his cheek, puts his hands on his hips.

“I think we should ask someone --” You try again, but he waves it off.

“Nonono, I’ve got this, let me try something else.” He insists, trying to salvage any dignity in his home-ownership skills.

He remembers something from the manual about replacing the fuses, so he looks in the garage with his little flashlight to find the box of fuses, and only knocks over three boxes in the process. You’re doing your best not to laugh at him, and honestly he doesn’t blame you, the sound of crashes and cursing not a good sign.

He pries open the panel’s cover, so that all the wiring is exposed, and ever so carefully he replaces the master fuse with one of the new ones. None of them are melted, but he doesn’t tell you that.

“Okay, on the count of three.” He says with the flashlight in his mouth to be able to use both hands, “One…two…three!”

“….Nope, still nothing.” You say after trying to hallway light again, and sticking your head into the garage once more with a more worried, “Honey are you sure you – ”

“One last thing just let me try one last thing.” He pleads, right as he accidentally electrocutes himself, the little blip of light jolting up his hand. “Ow, fuck -- !”

“Oh shit, Flip are you okay?” You come into the garage now, rushing in the dark to his side.

He gets himself away from the panel so that he doesn’t accidentally zap you too. You’ve got your hands on him, feeling him all over to make sure he’s not on fire or anything absurd.

“Yeah I just uh,” He starts, before he begins to laugh at his own self, at his own absurdity, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. And I think I melted more of the fuses.”

He points the flashlight to the panel, and now the fuses definitely are melted, which means he definitely is going to need to call the electrician to get all this fixed.

“Do you think the home improvement store is still open?” You ask around bright laughs of your own, bracing yourself against his chest as he holds you tight.

“Nah, it’s too late now.” He shakes his head, using the flashlight to lead you both out of the dark garage and into the house proper. “We’ll go in first thing tomorrow morning.”

“So what do we do?” You ask.

With the two of you now in the safety of the kitchen, you lean yourself up against the counter where dinner hasn’t yet gone underway. You’re looking at him with those eyes of yours, and Flip lights up a cigarette, the little red-orange glow of the tip of it bright in the twilight of evening.

“Well,” He breathes, still a bit of a chuckle in his throat, “I can think of one thing.”

You stare at one another for a moment, before you both laugh laugh laugh as you race up the stairs to your bedroom, Flip chasing you and pinching at you, holding you tight and wrestling with you under the covers.

And if you cook dinner by the candle-light, it’s not the worst thing in the world. If you miss your nightly dance to the record player, or you can’t tune in to one of the three stations on the TV, oh well.

It’s more than enough to tangle yourselves under the covers and laugh against each other’s skin, indulging in the feeling of one another’s bodies.

The power would just have to wait.

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman/reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman/you #flip zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman fanfic #flip zimmerman fluff #blackkklansman #nekonaomitard #cowboy answers

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thewritingstar · 4 years

Text

Sleepover Secrets

This is my first commission and its for the wonderful and the lovely @gytech !! Thank you so very much for trusting me to write such a cute and lovely fic for you. It means a lot and it was super fun to write. I hope you enjoy and like this piece!!!!! -Star

Pairing: Jiroumomo (Jirou x Yaoyorozu)

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Rating: General Audience

Word Count: 4313

-------

Jirou closed her locker with a hard thud. She didn’t mean for it to be that loud but today's hero training lesson really shook her up. She thought she was getting better with her technical moves but she had been beaten in nearly every match today and all she wanted to do was lock herself in her dorm room and busted out her newest cd of a rock and roll band she had been dying to listen to too. That's all she wanted.

“You were really strong out there today.” Of course Momo would complement her. She could see how flustered she was and now Jirou had to keep her face cool enough so the gorgeous goddess like figure that was Momo Yaoyorozu didn’t see the blush forming on her face.

“Oh um thanks.You were amazing, naturally.” She smiled back.

Yaoyorozu finished hanging up her outfit all nice and neat. It always made Jirou laugh as she would tuck her scarlet red suit inside her locker while Uraraka would simply cram hers into that small space before running to the bathroom to empty her stomach. Yikes.

“So Jirou.” Momo trailed off. “Do you maybe want to have a sleepover? I overheard some of the boys talk about having their own and I thought I would like to give it a try.”

A small laugh came out of Jirou’s mouth. “Give it a try?’ She was met with a simple nod as they both finished smoothing out the skirts of their uniforms. “Wait. Yaoyorozu, have you never been to a sleepover before?”

The much taller girl turned bright pink as she began to pack up her things. Momo was one to get flustered or overthink everything constantly but this seemed more, embarrassed? She began to fiddle with her hair tie as she began to pull back her dark locks.

“It's not like I haven’t been invited to them as a child, I just don’t think that maids pampering the guests and I really count as the true experience, yeah know?” It was almost comical of how rich Momo was and how often her class forgot it. It made a little bit of sense that she hadn’t had the true experience, after all living in a mansion was kinda like a permanent fort.

“Well luckily for you. I am an expert. I’ll turn my room into a kick ass pillow fort and we can watch movies and have snacks.”

“Pillow fort?” She turned her head almost like a cute puppy dog who just got offered to go on a walk.

Jirous smile fell. “ Please tell me-” Another shrug and slightly embarrassed smile. “Alright, that's okay, it will be better this way. More of a surprise. My rooms a bit small but we can probably squeeze some more girls-”

Momo held up her hand and looked around as the other girls were starting to head out. Her voice was much quieter this time as if she didn’t want the others to hear.

“Actually. I was wondering if maybe it could just be us?” Momo asked shyly.

No matter how hard she tried, Jirou would not be able to contain the flush of red that spread across her cheeks. She didn’t know why she was slightly panicking. They were friends, best friends even and have hung out alone many times before. They studied, listened to music and occasionally fell asleep on the common room couch together, but for some reason, Momo asking it to be just them felt different. It was odd and was bringing up feelings she wasn’t sure she could handle right now.

“Oh yeah of course.” Deep breath in. And out. “How about tomorrow?” That should be enough time to emotionally prepare.

The bell rang through the locker room signaling it was time for them to head to their next class.

“I’ll bring snacks.” Momo said happily as she took her bag and headed out.

Jirou smiled to herself while poking her ear jacks together. Behind her she heard a coo and a giggle. Her eyes widened as Mina was practically glowing from hearing other conversations.

“You two are super cute!” The pink alien giggled which made her face redden further. “Don’t be such a bashful doll, Momo is super into you!” Mina always knew the drama and could sniff it out like a little piggy with truffles. Of course she had seen through her face.

A small pain of sadness ran through her. “She's not-” Jirou frowned but dropped the subject. Mina could sense the shift in mood and laced her arm through hers as they began to walk to English.

“Well you still want to give her the best slumber party ever. I’ll help you set up tomorrow.”

“Thanks Mina.”

It was Saturday which meant no school and most importantly, the smartest and cutest girl would be coming over to spend the night. Jirou was bright and early to make sure she turned her room into a pillow wonderland. She began by stripping her bed clean and pulling all the extra blankets and pillows she had.

The pile of supplies seemed small and weak. She remembers being able to create amazing forts with her cousins back home. The hallways would be lined with chairs as sheets were stretched and taped on while they crawled underneath.

But now this was just plain sad. How was she supposed to impress her with just four blankets and five pillows? She couldn’t.

A knock from her door interrupted her thoughts and she opened it while rubbing her eyes. “Mina.” She had almost forgotten that her friend offered to help her and with the way things were going, she was relieved to see the extra support.

The bubbly girl, honestly who has this much energy in the morning? Came bouncing in with her hands full of blankets followed by a mound of pillows being carried by Hagakure. Another stack of blankets had fallen into the floor as Tsuyu dropped them off.

“We are ready to help you throw the most amazing pillow fort party ever! Sucks that we can’t come but nonetheless, we shall be your faithful helpers!” Mina cheered and the door shut as the four girls got to work trying to figure out the best way to configure this.

After a few hours of planning, blankets falling, pillows being thrown, a whole box of juice boxes and instruments being smacked down from the walls then shoved into her closet, the maze that was now a pillow fort was complete.

The girls stood back and admired their work. A low whistle came from Mina as she patted Jirou on the back. “She’s going to love this!” Tsyu said as they began to leave just in time for the queen herself to arrive.

Jirou sat in her new arranged room on the floor waiting and the realization that she was about to have the prettiest girl in her room by herself was kicking in.

“What if she doesn’t like it?” Her eyes widened. “What if she doesn’t have fun and wants to leave?” All these thoughts began to corrupt her mind as she was playing out the worst case scenario.

A polite knock at the door came and she picked her head up from her knees. She crawled through the massive fort, as massive as it can be in this cramped dorm room and answered the door.

“Hey.” Momo said with a bright and beautiful smile. She was wearing a simple tank top and bottom set but Jirou knew it was made from imported silk. The light pink looked really good on her skin and she had to stop herself from checking out her best friend. Her dark long hair was falling freely on her shoulders. It was rare for her to not have her hair up but Jirou thought she looked really pretty with it down.

She looked down at her own outfit. An over sized hoodie with her favorite bands logo and black fuzzy shorts.

“Come on in.” She said casually and moved down to the floor to crawl. Momo followed and soon they were sitting in the middle of the pillow fort.

“Wow, this is amazing.” Momo looked around. It was such a simple concept but she adored the domestic feeling it provided. She was used to the finer things in life but moments like these made her wish she knew more about the freedom of playing than learning about business trades.

Momo was in awe as she saw the layers of blankets being taped to the walls and hung from the furniture. There were pillows everywhere on the floor providing them with a mass amount of seating options and she couldn’t believe she had never done this before.

“It's really not but I hope you will have a good time.”

“Any time with you is good.”

Jirou swore she saw a dust of pink on Momos cheeks. It was faint but the hope of her feelings died quickly as the other girl turned and pulled some items out of her back.

“I brought some snacks!.” She laid them in front of her as well as two very expensive looking tea cups. She almost didn't want to touch them.

Momo pulled out a thermos and began to pour. “I decided to go with a green tea and raspberry blend, something light but full of flavor. It comes from Spain back when my family visited there and the family that grows the tea leaves only makes ten batches a year because it's so hard to grow.” Momo stated and Jirou laughed as the dark red liquid filled the cup.

Momo opened a small tin of cookies which she informed her were from Scotland and an assortment of chocolates and mixed nuts that came all the way from Belgium and different regions of South america.

“Sorry if it's not enough.” she shuddered as Jirou bit into one of the chocolates and almost moaned at how creamy and delectable the taste was.

“Are you kidding? These are amazing.” She said as she popped another in her mouth. “I only have some chips from the kitchen and you brought the entire world into my room.”

A giggle came from Momo's mouth as she took a sip from her tea. Even in her pajamas, she still looked fancy. “So lovely host, what are the activities for tonight?”

“Well my lovely guest.” Momo laughed at this. “I thought maybe a movie or show, some card games, possibly a pillow fight if we don't take this all down with us and of course some gossip and girl talk. No particular order.”

“Let's start with a card game.” Momo clapped her hands together before rummaging through her bag and pulling out a brand new set of cards. “I made these yesterday! I’ve been practicing on simple items and I hope they have the same texture as a regular set.”

Jirou took the deck and began to shuffle. They looked like regular cards and had the same lightness as well. She always became amazed whenever she witnessed her quirk in action. She began throwing the cards back and forth until they had a good amount then set the rest in the middle.

“Alright Yaoyorozu. Got any 2’s?” Jirou asked and a competitive game of Go Fish broke out.

After about six rounds of Go Fish, which Momo complained she only won two games and an unsuccessful round of Poker on Jirou’s part, the deck was tossed back into Momo’s fancy bag and ready for another time.

“Whats next?” Momo asked and Jirou shrugged.

“Your choice.” She gestured to her laptop that was ready to stream a movie, all the pillows and even a few coloring books that Mina had brought her.

Momo thought for a second before looking around. “It might be a little too early for a movie.” The sun was beginning to set and Jirou agreed.

“So what are you thinking?” She leaned back on her elbows and watched Momo’s ‘thinking’ face appear.

Her eyes widened with a spark as a grin appeared. She crawled through the small opening on the other side. Jirou popped in another chocolate candy as Momo had disappeared, she could see her shadows moving and heard a bit of movement.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to see?” Momo called out and even though it was a small room, it felt like she was miles apart from her.

“What's that?” Jirou answered as she ate another one. Gosh these were amazing.

Momo's head popped back into the fort and she scooted backwards towards her as she held something in her hands.

“Oh come on.” Jirou laughed as she wiped her fingers clean. “Really?” She smiled as she took the acoustic guitar from her.

“I’ve always wanted to see you play. Ever since the room tour I've been intrigued by your musical talents.”

Jirou never thought that being able to play an instrument was something super special. Anyone could really do it and it wasn’t exactly the hardest thing to learn. The fact that Momo sat tapping her fingers in anticipation waiting for her to play and actually wanting to hear her meant a lot.

She began to tune the guitar. She hadn’t played this particular one in awhile and she was thankful that she had soundproofed her room so that none of the other girls would hear her practically serenading Momo. The familiar strum of the guitar string brought her back to the days she would sit in her backyard and practice. She had always had a soft spot with the instrument. It felt the most personal and could help convey her feelings better than her other instruments could.

“Any particular song?” She asked and Momo looked up and tapped her chin.

“What about an original?”

That wasn’t what she expected. It took her back as she nervously strummed. She wanted to protest and tell her that she doesn’t write her own songs which would be a lie because mom has caught her writing before.

“Maybe the one you wrote in the park?” Momo added.

Jirou has written many songs before, most rock and roll songs and occasional pop songs but that one, that particular one was a love song. The only one she had written. She didn’t know that Momo was standing behind her that day as she was busy scribbling down her thoughts.

“I didn’t know you knew about that.” Jirou muttered as she hugged the guitar close to her chest. She was nervous to sing the song. It was personally and she was scared that momo would realize it was about her. But she shook off that thought and Momo settled down and stared at her like she was the most important thing.

She began playing the song, the words flowing along like a river. She kept her eyes shut as she played and began to lose herself in the song. If she wasn’t striving to be a hero, she probably would have studied music instead. The thought of writing songs for someone or performing them herself was something she had always dreamed of doing. Maybe once she becomes a professional hero, she might also part time as a musician.

She ended the song and opened her eyes. She was met with a small round of applause from Mom who looked like she genuinely enjoyed the performance.

“That was beautiful.” She commended her and Jirou brushed back a piece of hair before setting her guitar behind her.

“Thank you.” She replied. “I’ve never played any of my songs for anyone before.”

“Well thank you for letting me be the first one then.”

Jirou found herself blushing more today then she has in her entire life. She grabbed her laptop before flipping it open. “Movie time?” She asked as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart.

“Sounds good.”

The movie ended and the girls decided to sit in a comfortable silence as they checked their phones. Mina had been texting her, asking her how it was going and telling her to relax. She turned off her phone before relaxing again and just enjoying the presence of her friend.

“Who do you think would win in a fight? Denki or a jellyfish?” Jirou asked and Momo let out a loud laugh and covered her mouth.

“Denki.” Momo stated. And Jirou giggled.

“I’d pick the jellyfish.”

“That’s so mean!” But she continued to laugh anyways.

“No different then when you asked if Kirishima could beat a shark.”

“Which I think he can.” Momo added and their giggle faded off.

Jirou laid on her back facing the makeshift ceiling of the blankets and somehow began to count the number of dots on the pink blanket. Next to her was Momo who was laying on her side, finger toying with the frizz of the carpet.

“Can I ask you a question?” Momo said out of the blue. Her tone was different from the previous rounds of asking. It was soft and hesitant as if she was running it over and over in her mind.

“Yeah of course.” Jirou responded but never took her eyes off the blanket. So far she had counted twenty six dots.

“Why didn't you go out with Denki?”

She stopped counting and felt her body tense up. “I know he really liked you and you two seem like such good friends that I was surprised when you turned him down.” She continued.

Jirou felt the fears she desperately wanted to avoid surface and she tried to keep counting. She was at thirty seven now.

“ I liked someone else.” She said honestly and she heard Momo hum beside her. “Why do you ask?” She was met with silence. She took a chance and rolled on her side to face her.

She was met with a pair of eyes that seemed to hold an uncertainty as she looked at her. Momo's mouth was slightly parted open as if she wanted to say something but she didn’t trust herself. A silent tension was formed as the pair looked at each other.

“Jirou can I tell you a secret?” She asked and the other girl swore they could see tears forming in her eyes.

She felt worried seeing her friend like that and moved closer. “Of course.”

“Promise me whatever I say you will still be my friend?” Her eyes were now boring into hers. Almost like a plea.

“Momo, you can tell me anything.” Her voice was softer than anything Momo has heard before.

She turned her head and a single tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m gay.” Her voice was on the verge of breaking and she was terrified to look back at Jirou. She was scared that she would yell and be ashamed to be her friend or be mad for not telling her sooner. That fear of rejection played over and over in her mind and she was afraid that she made a giant mistake.

Instead she was pulled into a hug. Her arms immediately tightened around her frame as the other whispered how proud she was into her ears and she finally let all the tension and fears flow free in tears.

“Momo.” She pulled away and looked at her. “I will always be your friend, you never have to worry about that. You being gay wouldn’t make me care for you any less, plus I’m bisexual so I understand your fear of coming out. It can be scary but hey, I'm here for you.”

Momo wiped her tears away and her lips curled up.

“Are you okay?”

Momo only nodded. “Yes.” She took in another deep breath, calming herself down.

“Can I tell you a secret now?” Jirous said cautiously and Momo shook her head as the other girl began to lean in closer. “I was afraid to tell the person I liked how I felt.”

“I don’t think you should be.” The other girl whispered.

They were meant with another silence as their noses touched and their eyes met with a secret plea from each of them. A small smile appeared on Momos lips as she nodded and felt a soft pair of lips touch her own. It was hesitant and slow. Almost like testing the waters before diving straight in. She responded to the kiss and accepted it as she kissed the other girl back.

Jirou felt tears wet her cheeks as arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her impossibly closer. There was a rush of excitement as their lips parted and they each caught their own breaths.

“Wow.” Momo whispered and Jirou nodded.

“Wow indeed.” She laughed.

“Want to know something else?” Jirou turned her head. “That song was about you.”

“You, you wrote a song about me?” She asked and before she could respond, Jirou was pulled into another hug. “That makes it even more amazing.”

They each could barely contain their smiles until Jirou suggested that they watched another movie. Their fingers slowly entered as the movie played and every so often one of them would kiss the other girl's cheek, making them blush profusely.

Of course they had chosen a romantic love story and normally that wasn’t Jirous type of movie, she preferred action or even musicals, but as she watched the two characters fall in love on screen, she wouldn’t have chosen anything else.

It was well late into the night as the credits began to roll and a yawn escaped both of their lips. They fluffed their pillows before laying their heads down and faced each other. Momo brushed a piece of hair out of Jirous face and kissed her hand.

“I’m really happy you invited me over.” She said quietly.

“Me too.”

----

The sun came shining in and even with the mass amounts of blankets blocking the light, Jirou woke to a bright room. She rubbed at her eyes and looked to see a snoozing Momo. Even in her sleep she looked perfect as she hand her hands under her head and lips pushed slightly out. She reminded her of a sleeping princess, of course Momo was delicate and refined in every way of her life and it made jirou laugh a little making sleeping beauty flutter her eyes open.

“Good morning.” Momo smiled at her. She sat up and rubbed away the sleep before stretching her arms out and tried to not knock the blankets down. They were both thankful her hair was down because her massive ponytail would have taken the fort down the moment she got in.

Jirou grabbed her phone before looking at the time. “Wanna grab coffee?” She asked and Momo nodded quickly. They locked eyes for a second before the memories of last night came flooding back.

A blush spread on Jirous cheek as she remembered their kiss and soon she felt those plush lips on the corner of her mouth. “You are so cute when you turn pink.” She barely heard Momo as her brain was trying to register what was happening.

She grabbed the tips of her ear jacks and began tapping them together, a nervous trait she's had since she was a child but Momo thought it was quite adorable. “Um Yaoyorozu?” She asked. “Are we-”

“Oh.” Momo understood immediately. She picked up a brush and began to comb the ends of her hair. “I mean, I would love to. As long as you do that is?”

“Yes!” Jirou said maybe a little too fast for her own liking. “Coffee at ten?” She said before being met with a nod.

Momo leaned in and kissed her again and jirou swore she saw stars. She never thought that all this mushy and gushy romance stuff would be up her ally but she was finding herself enjoying it with each press of the lips and the giggles that followed.

Momo grabbed her bag before leaving to get dressed. “See you then.” She winked.

Jirou heard the door close and grabbed her pillow before doing a mix of a scream and a cheer into it. She never felt this light and happy before and maybe she was still on the first kiss bliss from last night but she never wanted that feeling to go away.

She got up and began to get ready, making sure she looked decent enough for her girlfriend. Girlfriend. The thought of holding her hands on their way to class and going on dates while they tell each other all their secrets and stories from their childhoods made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

She finished lacing her shoe before grabbing her phone and leaving her dorm room.

“So how’d it go?” Mina had bombarded her right as she closed her door.

Jirou couldn’t contain her smile as they walked down to the common room and told her everything, well mostly everything that happened. They entered the elevator and she swore Mina’s screech of joy could be heard all the way across campus and she made her calm down before the doors opened.

They found the other girls sitting around a table and Momo was sitting next to an empty chair. Jirou sat next to her and Tsuyu smiled.

“So Yaoyorozu, how was your first pillow fort sleepover?” The frog hero asked and Jirou could see her holding back a wide smile.

“Amazing.” She said before pecking Jirou’s cheek with a kiss making the girl turn beet red.

The other girls began to congratulate them and swoon over the fact that they were gonna be the cutest couple ever. Jirou met Momo’s beautiful brown eyes as they shared their own private moment and wrapped their fingers together.

“Best sleepover ever.” Jirou whispered to herself as she joined back into the conversation.

“Okay who would win in a fight? Bakugou or Godzilla?” Mina said as the table busted out laughing.

I hope you enjoyed this! It was a pleasure writing and working with you!

Commission info here

#jiroumomo #jirou x yaoyorozu #kyoka jirou #momo yaoyozoru #my hero academia #my hero oneshot #my hero fanfiction #fanfiction commissions #thewritingstar

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cross-poison · 4 years

Text

CLARITAS. The Mandaloran/Din Djarin x Original Female Character (Part 7)

A/N: It's been a hot minute! I had a few weeks where I felt so burned out I couldn't get any writing accomplished... Hoping to change that in the coming weeks. Thanks for your patience!

WORDS: 2.2k || WARNINGS: None

When Elliotte awoke the next morning, it wasn’t to the familiar sight of sunlight peeking through the shades of her bedroom balcony, but to the cool and soft darkness of the Mandalorian’s ship. She sat up quickly, readjusting to her surroundings and doing her best to pat down any bed head she’d acquired throughout the course of the night.

After a few moments, she’d willed herself to stand up and reenter the main segment of the ship but before she could get much further, she heard Mando climb down from the upper level and join her in the main area.

“You’re awake,” he acknowledged, “Here. I brought you this.” He turned a small purple object over in his gloved hand and passed it to her.

Ell took it from him and couldn’t resist a smile as she recognized the familiar round shape he’d offered her. “That’s very kind of you---but why are you giving me a grange fruit?”

The Mandalorian had no response readily available to such a question, aside from a slow tilt of his helmet. Then, after a long moment of consideration, “To… eat?”

Elliotte looked back down at the fruit and nodded slowly. “I appreciate the gesture, truly. Grange fruits are… a Listronus specialty… but they are incredibly toxic. Not for eating. But… excellent medicinal properties, and the skin can be boiled into a delicious tea when mixed with some of the local flowers. Very tasty.”

“Certainly glad I didn’t try to eat it myself, then. I suppose I’ll have to have a chat with the merchant who tried to pass it off as edible.”

Elliotte chuckled, scraping a fleck of dirt off of the grange fruit with her fingernail, “Try not to go too hard on ‘em. Everyone’s just trying to make a living around here---not that it excuses the selling of toxic fruits to visitors!” With a sigh, she let her arm drop to her side, “I apologize. We used to be more hospitable people.”

“You have quite a bit of knowledge about this planet… have you lived here for a long time?” Mando asked, quietly taking a seat on one of the storage containers across from her.

Ell nodded stiffly. “I’ve always lived here… This is my first time even setting foot on a ship like this! I’m impressed, I must say. All these boxes… and you said you practically live in here, right? So you must do a lot of travelling.”

“Mostly for work.”

“What do you do?”

“I used to be a bounty hunter. I guess… I still am, but I’ve got the kid now so I have more pressing matters to prioritize.”

Elliotte tried to hide the white-hot fear that coursed through her at the mention of bounty hunters. It had been a concern of hers for a long time that Listronus’s king would call for bounty hunters to shut down operations like Rhythimi’s… still, it was hard to believe that this particular Mandalorian would travel from so far for something like this. Ell felt he was being sincere… perhaps her bit of trust was misplaced, but he’d given her no reason not to believe him. “So you aren’t here looking for someone?”

“No. I’m just here for fuel.”

“Many are… I’ve seen a few travelers have to bite the bullet and settle down here. The king has monopolized all fuel resources and imports and distributes them in miniscule portions. There’s not nearly enough to go around.”

“You may find it difficult to believe, but this isn’t the worst planet I’ve been stranded on. I don’t mind staying here until my turn.”

Elliotte fell silent for a moment, gaze drawn once again to the grange fruit between her hands, “You know, if you’ll be here for a while, you’ll have to learn not to be deceived by tricky merchants. Maybe you could use a guide.”

“Are you offering?” said the Mandalorian, catching her by surprise yet again. Her eyes shot up, meeting the t-shape of his beskar as she carefully pondered her answer. “I can pay you for your time,” he continued.

The thought of money during her recovery period made her graze her fingertips over her sprained wrist. “Well… it’s not like I’m really able to work my regular job, is it? Sure. I’m offering. I’ll teach you how to deal with the locals and the nobility, and… which fruits are toxic and which are fine to eat,” she chuckled, “and… whatever else you’re hoping to learn about this planet.”

“Great. When do we start?”

“Right now?”

Mando’s armor clinked together with a metallic sound as he stood. Ell did the same, but before she headed for the ramp, she glanced just past his shoulder to the ladder to the upper level, where he’d taken the little green child the night before.

Mando followed her gaze for a brief moment, then brushed past her and made his way toward the ship’s exit. “He’ll be fine. This won’t be the first time he’s been left alone during the day.”

The harpist was quick to follow, squinting against the harsh sunlight as she stepped out into it. “I’ve overslept,” Ell noted, “If I was scheduled to work this morning, I’d already be starting with my third client.”

“Good thing you aren’t, then,” came the beskar-clad man’s reply, “Where would you like to start guiding?”

“The marketplace. Perhaps we can negotiate a refund for your grange fruit,” Elliotte said, increasing her pace so she could properly walk beside him as they returned to the city center. “I’m sure many places in the galaxy practice negotiations and trades---on Listronus, it’s a way of survival. If you play the right cards and talk to the right people, you can start with a grange fruit and end up with a house.”

By the time the stalls of the crowded marketplace had come into view, Elliotte had gone over numerous negotiation methods valued by the local Listronians, and as she came to a halt in front of one of the vendors, she held up the purple grange fruit to demonstrate. The man before her was short and stocky, a thick beard covering his lower face and a few orange-tinted blossoms wrapped around some of the fine hairs to add an interesting accent to his dark features.

This particular merchant’s stall was covered in decorative strands of beads, all hand-crafted and sewn together to create beautifully elaborate color combinations and designs. As Elliotte began to offer her trade, chattering quickly with the merchant in their native tongue, the Mandalorian reached for one of the bead strands in a nearby basket, turning it over to closely survey the craftsmanship.

It was rather cheaply made, with inexpensive strands of cloth wrapped around thin white beads that matched the color of the wilting flower petals in Elliotte’s hair, but there was still something simple and beautiful about it.

Mando was no expert in the Listronian language, but he’d done enough travelling in his time to be able to recognize a few words in his companion’s conversation with the merchant.

“....Wife… heart… ill…”

They discussed intently for a moment before Ell’s expression brightened and grew into a wide smile. She handed the merchant the grange fruit, and after it was in his grasp, the man gestured to the basket of bead strands. “Three.”

“Take three,” Ell followed up, offering the Mandalorian a smile before gently shaking the merchant’s hand. “May she have a swift recovery.” With that, she turned and made her way back to the Mandalorian’s side, just as he finished retrieving three strands from the basket.

As they moved on from the stall, Elliotte lowered her voice just a bit. “It’s not difficult to barter here… everyone needs something, whether it’s a piece of furniture for their dwelling or leaves for tea. Grange fruit, as I mentioned earlier, has great medicinal properties. Joju’s wife has been feeling ill this week, with a high fever and heart pain… the fruit will help ease her fever when prepared the right way. In exchange, we have three bead threads.”

“Why didn’t you just purchase them? They weren’t expensive,” inquired Mando, curious to follow her process.

“If you bought everything in the marketplace with credits, you’d be broke within weeks. If a merchant knows you can pay the full price immediately, they’ll raise it… that’s how you wind up convinced a grange fruit is edible.”

“Fair point… Now we have beads. What’s a step up from that?”

“Now, you consider who’d have the most use for beads. You’d have trouble selling beads to a fruit salesman---what use would he have for them, right? So instead…” Elliotte trailed off, smoothing her hand down the side of her dress and tapping at a few of the beads sewn into the fabric, “You’d be better off approaching a seamstress.” She nodded further down the row of stalls where two female merchants were sitting, smiling at customers and engaging in polite conversation while they threaded a pattern into a violet-colored dress shirt.

Elliotte maneuvered through the crowd, followed closely by Mando, until she came to a halt in front of the seamstresses. Up close, Mando noticed that they, too, boasted brightly-colored flowers in their hair. It was then he reasoned the flowers must have some sort of cultural significance on Listronus, but he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around how or why.

The seamstress closest to the front of the stall lit up as Elliotte drew near. “Ellie! Long time no see… glad to see the dress I made is holding up! Is your arm alright…? What’s happened?”

“No need to worry, Lisete. Just a little accident… and yes, the dress is marvelous. Comfortable… fits like a glove… absolutely perfect.”

Lisete was positively glowing by the time Ell had finished speaking about the quality of her dress. “Is there something specific you’ve come here for today?”

“My friend and I have just come to offer you these,” Elliotte said, passing her one of the strands, “Your beadwork is always so impressive, and I know you love to use many shapes and sizes in your patterns. Would you have any use for these?”

Lisete hummed thoughtfully as she pulled at the cheap cloth until a bead came loose in her palm. “They’re awfully tiny… but not useless by any means. I have a skirt that these would look lovely on. What are you hoping to get for them?”

Ell hummed softly, leaning down and folding her arms across the table. “I was wondering if you had any string… some firm but flexible string.”

Lisete glanced over her shoulder toward the other seamstress, who nodded and passed her a spool of rolled string. “We can offer you this. This is made from ostratine root fibers rather than our typical fabric threads… it’s stretchy and resilient, but not very comfortable if you’re hoping to wear something made of it.” “This is perfect, Lisete, thank you,” Elliotte said, “Would you trade the full spool for three bead strands?”

“Sure would.”

Ell passed her the beads and took the wrapped string before saying her goodbyes and making her way back into the marketplace.

“You’re good at this,” Mando stated.

“I’ve been doing it for a long time. It’s important to build up a bit of a reputation here in the market, so people know you won’t screw them over. Learn about them. Buy from them. They’ll come to trust you. Do you want to try the next exchange?”

“... I suppose.”

“Take a look at these stands… who do you think would have the most use for a string like this?”

The Mandalorian turned his helmet, scanning the nearby stalls slowly before settling on one at the opposite side of the aisle, where a lanky man was laughing and shaking hands with a customer with a handful of fish wrapped in parchment. “A fisherman,” was his answer through the modulator, “He can use the string for his poles.”

“Great eye. You’re a fast learner,” Elliotte replied, passing him the spool.

As Mando went to cross the street, a figure from further down the row caught his eye. He stood out in the crowd with expensive-looking robes made of fabrics that certainly weren’t being sold in the marketplace. The hood of his robe was fused with some kind of animal bone with various pointed tips, like a crown around the back of his neck. The skin around his eyes was decorated in royal blue paint, a color that only seemed to accentuate his worst features. He was balding, so he wore no flowers, but Mando still recognized him immediately as Listronian.

“Lord Miryus,” he heard Elliotte breathe from beside him, “He’s the one who sprained my wrist.”

“He did this?”

“Yes. He’s a nobleman who lives in the palace. It’s awfully pretentious that he dresses like that here in the market---the antlers and paint are a sign of status… as if any of us could doubt it, when he struts around like the king himself anywhere he goes.” Elliotte said, and Mando didn’t miss the way her nose wrinkled with distaste.

“If you have such a dislike for the nobility… why do you work so closely with them?”

“I need money. They like music… it’s like I said before---Everyone needs something; there’s always an exchange to be made,” Elliotte finally drew her gaze back to him and forced a weak smile, nodding to the spool of string in his hand. “Speaking of which, it’s time you pitch yours.”

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #mando x ofc #din djarin #mando #baby yoda #din djarin x ofc #mando x oc #star wars fic #fanfiction #claritas #my writing #pedro pascal

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sunshineandfangs · 5 years

Note

Please tell me there’s a part 2 to end of the beginning I love it

Yes, it’s your lucky day! Happy Holidays!

End of the Beginning Pt. 2

Warnings: Klaus being Klaus

Caroline sat stiff in her chair eyeing the Original across from her. It was amazing how she could feel more off balance and wary sitting at the gorgeous mahogany table in his dining room than hanging from chains in his literal dungeon/torture chamber.

She could acknowledge how diabolical it was; placing her in a setting that she knew was wrong but providing no physical reminders to justify the fear, nothing that told her to brace for pain or guard against manipulation. Even the cloak of power that surrounded him was somehow suppressed from a churning, endless abyss to a light fog.

Worst of all nothing about his body language or eyes suggested anything monstrous either, he was all charming geniality.

“Drink?” He asked, politely tipping a decanter in her direction.

She managed to refrain from pursing her lips, though she knew not even an ounce of tension had bled out of her.

“No. Thank you,” she replied with a short shake of her head.

His shoulders gave an elegant roll.

“Suit yourself, love.”

He poured himself a drink, setting the decanter aside, and took a sip. One swallow. Two. Lowering the glass to the table, Klaus eyed her with nothing but curiosity displayed.

“New Orleans is a gorgeous city isn’t it? Have you gotten the chance to see much of it? Food, music, art, culture; it has a bit of everything.”

Caroline couldn’t quite the control the way her brow twitched, though she did her best to smooth it out. Was this his idea of a joke?

“Its hospitality left a lot to be desire, I’m afraid.” Not the smartest response, though she did manage to keep all the venom from her tone, leaving it all sweet honey and Southern Belle.

She watched him carefully and yet nothing but mild amusement crossed his features. It wasn’t even the condescending or indulgent type. A chill crawled down her spine. No one spoke of control and the Original Hybrid in the same sentence, unless it was a comment on its lack. And yet here she sat before him utterly terrified because of it. There was nothing more frightening than the monster that thinks.

He interrupted the spiral of her thoughts. “That’s a shame. Perhaps, I can show you around? I am something of an expert after all.”

Klaus actually appeared genuine and politely unassuming. Friendly even. Like she said, terrifying.

“O-oh, that’s…kind of you to offer but-”

“Nonsense, sweetheart. I insist.”

And there it was, the most minuscule hint of an edge to his tone. It would almost be a relief if it didn’t send some part of her hindbrain squealing in primal fear. She swallowed.

“Well, if you insist.” She tried to infuse the tiniest bit of mocking into her tone, but it mostly fell flat.

“Wonderful-” Klaus cut off for a moment, flicking his eyes to a spot behind her. “Brother,” he nodded.

She didn’t think she could stiffen any further, but she managed. Craning her neck, she turned enough to make out the figure of Elijah, Klaus still looming in her peripheral.

“Niklaus. Miss Forbes.” With an elegant incline of his head, he acknowledged each of them. One hand in his slacks’ pocket he made a slight wave with the other, a casual gesture. “I couldn’t help but overhear my brother’s plans. Perhaps, Miss Forbes, you would like a second perspective on New Orleans?”

Well, fuck.

She darted her eyes between the two of them, but neither gave anything away. It was impossible to tell if this was part of the plan or if each brother had their own agenda. Considering the horror stories about the Originals, it could easily be both.

Two Originals were certainly scarier than one, but maybe they could distract one another? It seemed like a somewhat stupid thought, they were each a thousand years old after all, but who knew? Caroline would look for any advantage she could find.

That didn’t help her now though. However much she wanted only one Original, no Originals being the ideal, her choice would not be refusal. Sure, she could resist, but to what end? She’d only look belligerent and defensive and he’d force his way in one way or another. Either without her notice, definitely the worst option, or by overruling her decision.

Thankfully, the brothers indulged her pause, one just long enough to stray into awkward territory. Her lips curled into a tiny smile, as honest as she could manage.

“I’m sure you have much to offer.”

To the casual observer the trio appeared like a group of friends, perhaps more with the way Klaus kept a guiding hand on the small of her back. Of course, they were anything but.

So it was a shock when they snuck under her guard every so often. Elijah with his impressive repository of facts, history, and exploits. Klaus with his dry wit that was unexpectedly quite funny. They’d trade off every so often too. Elijah making a humorous quip while Klaus regaled her with some fascinating tale long lost to the annals of time.

They were disgustingly, disturbingly charming.

She understood now how so many could fall thrall to the Originals. Even as she rebuilt her walls every time they slipped, she still found her defenses faltering more often as the day progressed.

Later, when they returned to the compound, she was shown to a stunning guest room. With its intricately carved wooden furniture and attached bathroom with marble counters and giant tub, she could almost forget it was nothing but a beautiful cage.

“I will see you tomorrow, Caroline.” He must have sensed her confusion for he continued. “You did say you were here for Christmas, did you not? There’s much more for me to show you.”

“Then I shall see you tomorrow. Goodnight.” She all but shoved him from the room, which he obliged to her relief.

It was only she and Klaus this time, and he continued to guide her with his hand on her back. He brought her to some surprising locations, ones she would have gone to with her mom, but not ones she predicted he would bother with. Locations like Jackson Square for candlelight caroling and the levee for giant bonfires. Others were more expected, like the Orpheum to see the Nutcracker and a tour of St. Louis Cathedral.

Yet when evening fell, Caroline found herself standing before something relatively simple, but gorgeous all the same. It was one of the larger decorated trees, hundreds of feet of white-yellow lights wrapped around its trunk and branches until it seemed to be made of a sea of stars.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He murmured in her ear.

“Yes,” she breathed softly, unwilling to disturb the odd peace of the moment.

Days passed in much the same vein. Though neither brother spent quite as much time with her as Klaus did on Christmas, they continued to be creepily nice and accommodating. Before she knew it, Caroline felt the first stirrings of fondness for the two brothers, particularly Klaus, and she knew she couldn’t let this go on. Frankly, it was frightening that she couldn’t even pinpoint the moment her guard fell.

Steeling herself, Caroline marched into the kitchen. Only Klaus sat there this morning, a relief if she was honest. As counterintuitive as it was, Klaus was the one she felt more comfortable confronting.

Banishing her wandering thoughts, she slammed her hand on the table, letting the mild sting ground her.

“Enough,” she snarled.

Klaus raised an eyebrow, looking completely unruffled.

“Is something wrong, sweetheart?”

Unlike the first time they were at this table, Caroline could actually read beneath the genial facade. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell if he was just letting her do so. And she couldn’t afford the rabbit hole such pondering would take her down. It would only shake her confidence.

“Stop toying with me, she bit out. “Ask your questions and end this. Just kill me if that’s what you plan.”

Klaus leaned back in his seat, at least giving her the courtesy of dropping his overly polite mask.

“Do you really think that low of me?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

He chuckled, vanishing from his seat across the table and reappearing in front of her before she could even blink.

“Such a fierce, clever little vampire,” he muttered.

She just narrowed her eyes.

He took his face in his hand, stroked his thumb across her cheek.

“I’ve looked into you of course, Caroline Forbes. By all accounts you are a fairly normal young vampire. Born in Mystic Falls, and yet not a trace of you when I was there.”

“I left after I turned. You must have just missed me.” She said this with a deadpan tone more concerned with the sensation of his hand on her face. A large part of her was still wary, but a tiny portion was enjoying it. Had he managed to burrow under her skin so easily?

“And the compulsion? Your father was William Forbes.”

She nodded, skin brushing against his palm. “Yes, he taught me how to resist it.”

Klaus let out a thoughtful hum, clearly having inferred all of this over the past several days. His eyes bored into hers, dark and intense, but oddly not particularly threatening.

She was sure that could change.

“Let’s try this again, love. What do you know of the Originals?” His pupils didn’t dilate in the telltale sign of compulsion, but she took a breath to answer all the same. Perhaps, he’d let her go after. One way or another.

“Not much. Only the details my mother managed to gather from the sidelines and the rumors all vampires eventually catch wind of.” As she spoke, Caroline monitored his expression carefully, hoping she could catch something should he decide to act. “You’re the first of your kind. Created by a spell and impossibly stronger and faster than any other vampires.” Caroline hesitated before daring to add one more thing. “You sacrificed one of my childhood friends to become a hybrid.”

Klaus had watched her impassively as she spoke, but a dark smirk curled his lips as she mentioned Elena.

“The doppelgänger? Oh, she’s very much alive, sweetheart.”

#Klaroline #Klaroline Fanfiction #Klaroline Drabbles #parisiaan #Ask #Answer #My Writing

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chainsawbettyloo · 7 years

Text

Title: Will You Teach Me?

Rating: E+

Pairing: Sidlink

Tags: First kiss, kissing, physical affection, lovey-dovey, establishing relationship, FLUFF

Summary: The question comes out of nowhere: "what is a 'kiss'?". Link is lost for words but does his best to explain it to Sidon. Problem is, he doesn't do it very well so Sidon requests a little demonstration

A/N: Cross posted on my AO3! Comments, reblogs and kudos are very much appreciated! Prompts are still open so send ‘em my way if you have them!

“Link, what is a ‘kiss’?”

Coming to an abrupt halt, Link, not entirely sure he'd correctly heard what Sidon had asked, turned around slowly to look in confusion at the Zora Prince striding up the hill towards him. Quirking a brow, he asked, “Pardon?”

“What is a ‘kiss’?” Sidon repeated, returning his confused expression with a curious one.

If it had been anyone other than Sidon asking that question, he would have thought that they were just pulling his leg or teasing him. Well, maybe everyone but Yunobo. In fact, if he was being completely honest, he’d probably be shocked silly if it turned out that Yunobo actually did know what kissing was. Next time he was in Goron City, he’d make it his mission to find out whether or not that was information Yunobo had. For now, though, he had a very inquisitive Sidon peering down at him, clearly anticipating some kind of answer.

Problem was, he wasn’t really sure how to answer. This wasn’t exactly an area he often talked or thought about. Turning around completely, he thought for a moment then hesitantly asked, hoping that he didn’t sound like he was mocking Sidon, “You’ve never heard of kissing before?”

“I’ve heard the word mentioned,” Sidon replied, clearly unoffended by the inquiry, “but its never had meaning before.” He tilted his head thoughtfully then continued, “Most likely because I’ve never had a Hylian I could ask before so please, tell me, what is a ‘kiss’? Is it a physical object? Can be eaten?”

“No, it’s not a physical thing.” Link replied, distantly wondering how on earth he ended up in the situation of explaining kissing to a Zora, though also a little bit happy that Sidon considered them close enough that he could ask such questions, “And no, you can’t eat it. It does have to do with your mouth, though.”

“Oh?” Sidon said curiously, squatting down so that he and Link were at eye level.

Struggling against the urge to step back, as well as from asking Sidon to maybe not be that close, Link continued, heat already pooling into his cheeks, “It’s a, uh, sign of affection between people. Usually...well, not usually, more like always, it's between two people and they kind of,” he faltered, cheeks burning with heat, wishing that Sidon wasn’t looking so intently at him. Tossing about for the best way to describe it but finding nothing that didn’t sound weird or embarrassing, he finally just gave up and said, “they get real close to one another and basically put their mouths together. And that’s a kiss.”

There were many accomplishments he had could as having done in the course of his interesting life, and now, he could easily say, he had just provided the worst explanation of a kiss in the entire history of Hyrule. He might be one of the few Hylians that Sidon was close with but it was becoming painfully clear that he probably shouldn’t be the one that the Zora Prince asked these kinds of things. Hopefully, he hadn’t looked too much like a buffoon in front of Sidon.

“And this is something that many Hylians do?” Sidon asked, not at all looking put off or amused by the failing description. Instead, he still looked incredibly curious, eyes sparkling with inquisitiveness.

“Ah, well, I think the majority do. It’s a pretty common way to show affection for Hylians. There might be some who don’t, though.”

“Is it enjoyable?”

His cheeks had been cooling off a touch but after Sidon asked that, the heat came roaring back with a vengeance. Sputtering a little, Link quickly grabbed hold of his composure, forced it back to where it was supposed to be, and answered in the most even voice he could manage, “I’d imagine so. People say it is.”

“Have you never done it, Link?” Sidon asked, eyes widening in shock.

Oh, gods, it was becoming so hard to stop himself from just running away from this conversation. Though, he supposed he should be thankful. Sidon could have asked about sex. Now that would have been a conversation he would have put a stop to before it even began. Placing a hand over his eyes to hide from the Zora Prince’s golden, penetrating stare, Link replied, his voice squeaking slightly, “No, I’ve never, uh...never had someone to do that with.”

“Not even Zelda?”

“No, oh, gods, no, no, no.” Link stammered, waving his hands frantically, knowing his face had to be the same color as Sidon’s skin, “Zelda is a good friend but we’re not like that.”

“I see.” Sidon said thoughtfully, finally lowering his gaze away from Link’s face. Placing a hand on his chin, he appeared to sink deep in thought, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Taking a deep breath, grateful for the reprieve, Link let his shoulders slump. He had had many difficult conversations over the course of his life but this one was going down as the biggest absolute nightmare. All he could hope was that ‘kiss’ was the only Hylian word within the category of ‘couple’ things that Sidon had heard.

“So, it is only partaken between two truly close friends?” Sidon asked suddenly.

For a moment, he considered giving the honest explanation that it was a ‘romantic’ thing, usually only between people who had romantic or sexual interest in each other, but he could just see that opening up a whole new can of worms. That was a line of conversation he did not want to get into. Goddess only knows where it could lead. By the end of it, he could be explaining anal sex to the Zora Prince. He wasn't even sure if Zora had anuses or, at least, had anuses that were similar to Hylian's, so he couldn't even imagine how that would go. No, maybe one day, he’d be strong enough to go into the entirety of Hylian romantic rituals but for now, he had had enough of that kind of thing. Besides, technically, Sidon wasn’t wrong. Couples were, after all, usually close friends.

“Yes, that’s one way to put it.” Once he had said it, he regretted phrasing it in such a way. That was just opening up Sidon to further inquire what were the other ways of putting it.

Sidon, however, remained quiet, gaze still averted away, a intensely thoughtful expression on his face. Curious now himself as to what the Zora Prince could be thinking about, Link, against his better judgement, was about to ask when Sidon abruptly raised his head, gaze flickering back to Link’s face.

“Are we truly close friends, Link?”

Blinking in surprise, Link nodded, “Yes, I’d say so.”

“Then, can I,” Sidon pointed at himself, then gestured vaguely at Link, “kiss you?”

He hadn’t made the connection, and even if he had, how could he have told Sidon that they weren’t truly close friends? Now, he had gone and dug himself a massive hole. That was what he got for not being entirely honest. Sputtering a little, entirely convinced that all the blood in his body was currently in his face, Link attempted to answer, tried to say anything but, before he could, Sidon had reached up, placed a hand on both sides of Link’s head then leaned down and proceeded to bump his mouth against Link’s.

It wasn’t a kiss but what it was, was almost an exact reproduction of the explanation he had given earlier. Just somebody blindly putting his mouth against someone else’s. If he had been a spectator inside of a participant, he probably would have found it hilarious. However, he was a participant but he didn’t find himself amused, mortified or disgusted. Inside his chest, his heartbeat had picked up to a racing pace. Suddenly, the heat in his cheeks spread out throughout his entire body. It didn’t feel bad. Actually, the smoothness, the softness of Sidon’s lips, even though they were just smooshed awkwardly against his own, felt remarkably good. Amazingly good, even.

Abruptly, Sidon leaned back, looking concerned, and stated, “Pardon my rudeness but this doesn’t feel correct. I know I am not an expert here but-”

Link held up a hand to stop him, “I didn’t explain it very well. It’s a, uh,” he struggled to find the words as his mind was a bit fuzzy, “a hard thing to explain to someone.”

“We did not do it correctly, then?”

“No, it’s close but not exactly a kiss.”

“How do you do it correctly? Will you show me, Link?”

He shouldn’t. He know he shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. Sidon didn’t fully understand what he was asking for, and that was no one’s fault but his own. He should have been more clear in his explanation of who kissed who. However, there was a problem. He really, really, really wanted an actual kiss from Sidon now. That awkward smoosh alone had felt amazing so what would a real, bonafide kiss feel like? He didn’t know how to kiss really himself but he had seen enough couples and read it described enough in the romance novels Zelda had kept hidden under her bed so he should be able to pull it off.

He’d regret it later. That he knew but for right now, he just couldn’t think of the consequences. Only the present, and the fact that he wanted to kiss Sidon for real. Taking a step forward, Link reached up, gently cupped Sidon’s hot, smooth cheeks in the palms of his hands and tugged him down. Sidon watched him curiously but Link could swear that there was an excited spark in his golden eyes. Pushing himself up onto his tiptoes as he did so, he brought Sidon’s head close to his own, breathed in deeply through his nose, and, without thinking about what he was doing, went in for a kiss.

Mimicking everything he had seen and read to the best of his ability, he lightly kissed Sidon’s lips. He felt the Zora Prince jerk in surprise, which lead him to nearly back away himself but then, Sidon was pushing back, responding to Link’s movements with mimicked versions of his own. Muscular arms encircled his waist as warm breath puffed over his cheeks. It was awkward, clumsily and felt undeniably amazing. Looping his arms around Sidon’s neck, he slid and rubbed his lips against Sidon’s, moaning softly in appreciation of the sensation.

Regrettably pulling away, he opened his mouth to say something, he wasn’t really sure what it was going to be at that moment when he was yanked back. Sidon’s mouth eagerly, almost hungrily, claimed his own. A large, warm hand cupped the back of his head, long fingers carefully threading through his hair. Pulling him even closer, squeezing him to his broad chest, Sidon made thorough work of kissing him. It wasn't a deep kiss or really that intimate but it was still enough to steal his breath away. Completely overwhelmed and not at all bothered that he was, Link could only let Sidon take the lead and keep up as best he could.

Sidon was the one to break the kiss the second time. Gasping softly, he leaned back, licked his lips with a long, pink tongue, which Link immediately wished had been slipped into his mouth, and said, “That was a kiss.”

Link could only nod mutely in response. His head felt funny - hazy, dizzy, similar to how he felt whenever he was out in the Gerudo desert without some cooling elixirs or the right armor on. There, it was a unpleasant sensation but right now, he felt really good. Now, he understood why the couples in Zelda’s romance novels always acted a little giddily after they shared a kiss. However, he was a little dismayed to find that the excitement had produced another result, other than feeling good and giddy. Inside of his trousers, a part of him was becoming incredibly piqued by all the excitement. Moving his hips away from Sidon as he best he could, hoping that the Zora Prince wouldn’t notice, he coughed and said, “It was.”

“It felt good. I can see why Hylians do it now.”

Link nodded again, wishing that Sidon would let go off him. Last thing he wanted was to ruin the moment by having to explain what an erection was. However, it seemed as though the Zora Prince had other thoughts in mind. Squeezing Link even more tightly, he leaned close again as though he were going in for a another kiss but stopped short and asked, “Do you do the same with all your close friends, Link?”

“No, remember, I’ve not done this with anyone before.” Link responded, squirming slightly in Sidon’s arms. It was becoming really difficult to keep his hips from making contact with Sidon.

Quickly closing the distance between them, Sidon captured his lips once more, sucked hard on his bottom lip, then leaned back once again and breathed, warm air brushing along Link’s skin, sending a wave of goosebumps along the surface, “It feels so good.”

“Me too.” Link gasped, jerking forward to place a soft kiss on the corner of Sidon’s mouth, immediately forgetting the situation in his pants.

Chucking - a deep, raspy sound that sent shivers cascading down Link’s sound - Sidon said, “Link, this isn’t something that just friends do, is it?”

Well, looked like the consequences for his deciding to go ahead and kiss Sidon were coming his way sooner than he had thought. Bracing for the Zora Prince possibly getting angry at him not telling the whole truth, Link lowered his head and slowly shook it, “No, it isn’t. At least, not that kind of kissing isn’t.”

“Who, then?”

“Couples.” Link said hesitatingly, “People in a romantic relationship.”

To his surprise, Sidon didn’t look at all shocked or bothered. Instead, a lazy, warm smile spread across his handsome face. Squeezing him even closer, the Zora Prince asked, “Then why did you kiss me?”

“Because it felt good.” Link replied haltingly, after a moment of embarrassed silence.

Sidon was quiet for a moment before asking, “Did you like kissing me, Link?”

Swallowing hard, cheeks burning, Link raised his head enough just so he could peek up at Sidon, and nodded.

“Do you want to kiss me again?”

He was going to pass out from blood loss. The haziness, dizziness was worse now but still far from unpleasant. Somehow, he managed, while still looking up at Sidon, to nod again. He did. He really, really did. It had felt amazing, and that warmth, that closeness...he was pretty sure he could get addicted to that.

“Good, because right now, I want the same. I want to kiss you again.”

Link jerked in surprise. His head flew all the way up, eyes widening in shock. Sidon wanted to kiss him again? Even after he knew the truth? Inside his chest, his heart was practically skipping. He felt excited, relieved but mostly, happy. Again, he'll get to experience that again! Not even bothering to hide his excitement, Link asked, “You do?”

“I do.” Sidon replied simply. Looking down at Link, he favored him with a small, warm smile, which immediately made Link’s heart jump, and said, “Can I?”

There was no hesitation this time, Sidon understood exactly what this motion, this action was, there was nothing lost in translation or left unsaid, which meant there was nothing to think about when it came to saying a resounding, breathless, “Yes.”

Again, Sidon’s lips were against his own. Breathing out hard through his nose in a sharp exhale of breath, Link dizzily thought that the sensation of his firm, smooth lips sliding against his own, the hint of sharp teeth just underneath the lips kissing his, and a wonderful subtle flavor bleeding from Sidon’s mouth into his, all of it could become addicting. Add into that the feeling of the Zora Prince’s warm, calloused hands caressing his head, his neck and back, and he knew he was getting addicted. He briefly thought about maybe introducing Sidon to deep kissing, tongue and all, but quickly decided against it. That'd be a little bit too much for the current situation. It would have to wait until next time, not that the thought disappointed him. Rather, he was just excited that there probably was going to be a next time.

“Link.” Sidon breathed huskily, shifting away barely an inch. Close enough that they were still brushing against one another, Link pushed into his warmth, not wanting it to be over just yet.

“Hm?” Link responded distractedly, head swimming with pleasant heat.

“Don’t kiss anyone else but me, okay?”

Laughing, Link leaned his head back to smile up at Sidon, “I won’t if you don’t kiss anyone else either.”

“Deal.” Sidon smiled, “Now,” the Zora Prince shifted closer once again, a teasing, mischievous glint appearing in his golden eyes, “teach me so much more.”

“Teach you what?” Link asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

“I understand kissing now but I know there has to be so much more so teach me, Link.” Sidon dipped his head, bringing his mouth to Link’s neck, where he placed an open-mouthed, hot, wet kiss on the side of his throat, “Teach me everything.”

Shivering hard, once again aware of the activity in his trousers but unable to find the motivation to do anything about it, Link unconsciously leaned his head back to give Sidon better access. He could feel his teeth pressing against his skin. Distantly, he wondered what it'd feel like to be bitten by those strong, sharp, white teeth. Breathing hard, nearly panting, he swallowed hard, “Y-you do know that’d be all romantic couple stuff, right?”

“Is it?” Sidon said teasingly, lifting his head from his neck. Smiling a near hungry, predatory grin down at Link, he replied breezily, “Well, I guess that would make us a couple, wouldn’t it?”

His heart just about jumped out of his chest and ejected itself from his throat. Gawking down at Sidon, his mouth opened and closed several times, making himself look a bit like a fish out of water. Couple...him and Sidon...him and Sidon a couple, romantic, lovey-dovey?! If he hadn’t been the color of a fresh apple before, he surely was now. The thought of being involved with Sidon in such a way had never crossed his mind but now that it was right in front of him, he was shocked to find himself completely, one hundred percent okay with it. In fact, he was even further surprised to discover that he not only was okay with it but wanted that. Him and Sidon, together, an item, lovey-fucking-dovey - it was like he had just had a ‘aha!’ moment, as though there was nothing else in the world that could possibly make more sense.

However, among the general acceptance of such a thing, his mind posed a worrying question: was it really this simple? Sure, he and Sidon were the closest of friends but was just getting together as a romantic couple really this quick and easy? It had never been that way in Zelda’s romance books but then again, hadn’t she always complained that they weren’t realistic, that real relationships weren’t like that? Maybe, then, it could be this easy, especially for two people so compatible with one another. If that was the case, and he pretty sure it was, it probably wasn’t a good thing to think to hard about it.

Swallowing hard, he nodded and smiled, “Yeah, I guess it does.”

“So,” Sidon said, leaning back, his grin less mischievous and more joyful now, golden eyes practically twinking with simple happiness, as though that had been the answer he was hoping for, “will you teach me?”

Link laughed sheepishly, “I don’t actually know too much about that kind of stuff.”

“Well, nor do I so perhaps,” Sidon gently took hold of his hand, intertwining his fingers with Link’s, “we should learn together.”

“I’d like that.” Link replied, suddenly feeling immensely bashful. Wanting to save face, as well as look more confident (and not as affected by Sidon’s actions), Link pulled the hand wrapped around his own to his mouth and placed a soft kiss against one of the knuckles. To his delight, and satisfaction, color immediately flooded into Sidon’s cheeks. He had never seen Sidon blush before...it was adorable. In the back of his mind, he made the mental note that he was going to have to make the Zora Prince blush more often.

“I love the feeling of your lips, Link.” Sidon breathed huskily, brushing the back of one of his fingers along the length of his mouth.

“I feel the same about yours.” He mumbled, kissing another knuckle.

Abruptly, he was pulled off the ground and gathered up into Sidon’s arms. Squeezing him close, the Zora Prince paused to press a hurried, hungry kiss against his mouth then whispered, “Should we head back to the Domain, where our lessons can begin in earnest?”

Eagerly nodding, Link briefly thought that his hard-on was now probably very obvious to Sidon but immediately disregarded that realization. Eventually, he was going to have to explain that to the Zora Prince so might as well not try to hide it. With that decided, he snuggled even closer to Sidon’s chest, breathing in his pleasant, unique, earthy scent, and said, “First lesson: cuddling.”

Sidon laughed, the sound rumbling deep within his broad chest, “I know what cuddling is, Link.”

“I figured, but,” he looked up to smile sweetly at the Zora Prince, “I want to cuddle.”

“Cuddling it is.” Sidon chuckled, his grin spanning from ear to ear...or where the ears would be if he were Hylian.

With that, he quickly started off towards the Domain. Relaxing in Sidon’s strong, muscular arms, Link ignored the thundering of his heart, the blood rushing down to his groin, and the intense heat flooding his entire body, and instead focused all his attention on the sensation of Sidon’s skin rubbing against his cheek. As he was carried closer to the Domain, the thought that he had just entered into a relationship with Sidon, and it had been done as easily as shaking someone’s hand popped up in his mind once more. In all honesty, he didn’t know where this was going, what could happen or if it was even a good idea but that was something that didn’t bother him at all. It didn't scare him or make him uneasy.

After all, that was pretty much his entire life right there. Better to just dive in head first, then figure out things as they came. Besides, he’d be figuring it out with Sidon, which just made things that much better.

#loz #breath of the wild #prince sidon #sidlink

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bi-writes · 7 years

Text

clarity — stupid (iv)

clarity masterlist masterlist here

previously: doesn’t spider-man have better things to do? continuing: maybe you’re just looking at it all wrong

third person, peter parker x soulmate!reader warnings: maybe language, fluff word count: 2,626 4:23 pm | something is missing

Your hunt for your soulmate was slowing becoming a humiliating and embarrassing job. Every place you marked off your list was another failure to add, and you would be lying if you said the encounters weren’t awkward and completely misunderstood. You felt stupider each time you left your soulmate candidates behind you.

The bell rang as you opened the door. Your heels echoed along the sidewalk as you sulked away from the coffee shop, swallowing hard in disappointment. When you felt movement beside you, you knew he was there already, waiting for you to say something.

“So…anything?” Spider-Man pressed. You sniffled as you adjusted your glasses, shaking your head. You wiped at your eyes to rid yourself of any sadness.

“He just looked at me like I was stupid and showed me his dumb brand,” you complained, shaking your head again. Spider-Man sighed beside you, shrugging his shoulders. “He was cute, too, I was really hoping he was gonna be it.”

“Well, to be honest, (y/n), you’re supposed to feel something when you see them,” he explained. You made a sour face and stuck your tongue out at him. The whites of his mask narrowed at you.

“Oh, yeah? What makes you such an expert?” You taunted. He chuckled a little beside you, and you rolled your eyes when you realized your mistake. Of course Spider-Man had a soulmate. He was perfect. “I should’ve known.”

“W-What?”

“That you had a soulmate,” you finished. Spider-Man walked with you as you turned onto your apartment block. You had finished the list for Wednesday by now, and you needed to pick up the Thursday list. You only had a couple more days to go through, but you knew in your heart by this point that it was unlikely he was in any of the places you listed. You were sure you had met him on Tuesday. Nothing made sense now.

“I didn’t mean to…rub it in,” Spider-Man tried to apologize. You smiled sadly to yourself. You were sorry, too. It wasn’t Spider-Man’s fault that you had the worst luck in the entire world. It wasn’t his fault that the only person he couldn’t help was you; maybe the universe had lessened the whole in your heart in an attempt at pitying you. Maybe she pitied you because she knew you would be alone forever.

“No, it’s okay,” you assured him. “I figured you had one.”

“Why do you say that?” “You’re a hero. And you got…really nice things going on,” you gestured to his physique, making him laugh again. “So, I’m not surprised.”

You made it to the column of stairs that made up what was the fire escape, and you shut your eyes. Spider-Man reached out and pulled you into his chest, where you buried your forehead as he raised the two of you up to your floor. You finally opened them, hurrying inside to escape the autumn cold.

Spider-Man shut the window behind you, and something inside him stung as he watched you slump into your desk chair. He slid his backpack off, resting on the floor. You two had come to an agreement that he would sit on the floor now after you caught him the other day swinging out of a dumpster.

“What’s it like?” You asked suddenly. You kept your eyes on your board as you pinned the finished Wednesday list to it. You ripped the Thursday one off, examining the list. Spider-Man’s ears perked up at the question.

“What?”

“What’s it like? To have a soulmate?”

Spider-Man looked down at his hands, smiling underneath his mask. You set the list down as you began to fiddle with the tech on your desk.

“I-I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about that,” he concluded. You pried open one of the damaged hard drives on your desk with the flat edge of a screwdriver, shaking your head.

“No, please…I would love to hear it,” you pleaded. Spider-Man laid onto his back, folding his hands over his stomach. He stared up at the ceiling, flickering his gaze from you to the ceiling and back again. You waited patiently as you popped the top off of the hard drive. Your longing desire to find your soulmate made you wild for affection, even if it wasn’t your own, and even if it was someone else’s story.

“Well…she’s so pretty,” he said softly. Your smile grew a little, your heart swelling. “She has this amazing smile. A-And the first time I saw her…I don’t know what came over me.”

“What do you mean?” You tried, using the flat screwdriver to carefully unscrew the hardware from the hard drive’s inside. Spider-Man watched carefully.

“When I got these powers, they fixed my eyesight. I-I always had to wear glasses before,” he informed you. You nodded, thinking to yourself. Tell me about it. “And then I saw her. And it was like I went blind all over again. A-And when I could finally see again…it was like all I could see was her.”

You stopped what you were doing, looking over at him. Spider-Man was already staring at you, and you gave him a sweet grin.

“What’s she like?” You asked. Spider-Man laughed, his limbs tingling as he thought about his girl. You turned back to your hard drive, discarding of the plastic covering and laying out the parts in front of you.

“She’s…she’s great. She’s super smart, smarter than me,” he gushed. You giggled out of skepticism. “No, really! S-She’s so smart, always wanting the next best computer o-or getting that new book. She really likes staying up to date.”

Your eyes scanned over the magazines on your shelf. You pushed your glasses up your nose, your eyes scanning over the technology magazines and books and even entertainment magazines littered around. From the new iPhone and its unique specs to the Kardashian sisters, there was a piece for it all.

“I hope you’ll introduce her to me sometime,” you sighed. “I feel like we’d get along real well.”

“Y-You don’t even know,” Spider-Man whispered. You lifted the spark ignitor, a small metal needle. You had it hooked up to a switch. You were going to test the drive’s electrical currents to see where it sparked. You wanted to find the problem.

“Have you kissed her yet?” You teased, and Spider-Man sat up, leaning back on the palms of his hand. He crossed his legs, shaking his head.

“No, we haven’t.”

“Why not?” “S-She doesn’t even know it’s me.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” you joked, sending him a wink. He chuckled nervously, and you let out a little squeal as the metal in front of you sparked loudly. Spider-Man stood up quickly, but you assured him you were okay. Suddenly, he had an idea.

“You wanna help me with something?” He asked. You adjusted your glasses, shrugging your shoulders.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Well, my suit has got a lotta code and programming in it, and I’ve been meaning to go to my friend so he could help me adjust some stuff,” Spider-Man explained. “But, you look like you could use a distraction, so will you help me?”

“Sure,” you replied, giving him a small smile. You pushed your things to the side, shutting off the ignitor as you watched Spider-Man dig through his backpack. He pulled out a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, and you tilted your head to the side in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I gotta take the suit off,” he said. Your eyes widened, and you nodded.

“O-Oh, yeah…” You trailed off. You paused for a second, your eyes scanning over his arms, the spectacle the red and blue really made him, the curves of his legs. You didn’t notice he was speaking to you, but he smirked to himself when he could hear your heartbeat quickening.

“Hey, earth to (y/n)?”

You jumped a little, turning around as your cheeks went red. You forgot he needed a little privacy. When your head was turned the other way, he loosened the suit around his body. You bit your lip as you dared to peek, and you were so glad you did. Olive and tan smooth skin appeared underneath the red and blue, exquisite around those toned muscles. You could only see his back for the most part, but your mouth was agape either way.

He slid out of the suit, and your eyes rolled back in your head a little at the sight. He looked incredible, of course, and you had to suppress a whine as he pulled a pair of sweats over his legs. You turned away as he tugged his shirt over his still-masked head.

“Okay, here,” Spider-Man called out. When you turned, his suit fell into your lap. You turned it over, examining the inside as your hands felt for the end of any wires.

“Still got the mask on?” You giggled. He sat back down on the floor, shrugging his shoulders.

“As much as I consider you my friend, it’s just better if you don’t know who I am,” he explained. You nodded your head.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you said softly. You met his gaze, smiling soft. “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me.”

“A-And why are you so sure that I will?”

“I’m not,” you replied. You found a micro-USB end on one of the hidden wires, and you quickly connected it to your laptop. You powered it up, waiting for your computer to recognize the suit’s presence. “But I also don’t think that this is the last time that we’ll see each other. So…I’m just gonna hope.”

There was silence between the two of you now. It wasn’t a tense silence, it was rather comfortable. You watched as the terminal and activity monitor of the suit suddenly opened over your desktop, and you bit your lip.

“Jesus, this thing is amazing,” you whispered as you scrolled through the terminal. Spider-Man stood beside you as your eyes went over the subsystems and coding. “So what is it I need to help you with?”

“There should be something in there…called the…”

“Called the what?”

“Baby monitor protocol,” Spider-Man said through gritted teeth. You laughed a little, but quickly shut your mouth when the eyes of his mask narrowed at you. You giggled under your breath when you turned away from him, finding the subsystem and placing your hands over the keyboard.

“And what do I do with it?”

“Can you make it so that it only records when I ask it to?” “Yeah.”

You let your coding do the work, quickly adjusting it as he leaned over your shoulder. He tilted his head to look at you better, tongue between your teeth, hair spilling in waves behind your shoulders, lips pursed in concentration. You looked beautiful in the retina display light.

“Done,” you said after a few minutes. You ejected the micro-USB from the suit, turning quickly. You hadn’t realized that Spider-Man was so close to you. Your breath was against where you guessed his mouth was, and you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. You thrusted the suit into his hands, sucking in your breath at the contact. Without his suit, he was without gloves. Your bare fingers were brushing against his, and something delicate went through you that you couldn’t explain.

You turned away as quick as it happened. You knew it was wrong. Spider-Man had a soulmate, and you couldn’t get swept up in silly romances when you had your own to worry about. Your suddenly retraction from him made his insides curl with disappointment, with desire. He craved your touch more than ever now, but he refused to give into you.

You made him feel stupidly out of control, furiously mad with romantic thoughts. Spider-Man couldn’t help but resist the aching in his fingers as they moved towards you. But the battle he was having within himself was beginning to end, and he was losing. He was losing because love made him feel like he knew everything about nothing, and nothing about everything.

“H-Hey, I got a really important thing to do tonight,” Spider-Man said nervously. You nodded, turning your back to him as he changed back into his suit. When he touched your shoulder, you turned back to see him looking as lovely as ever in the suit. “Can you help me tonight?”

“What do you mean?” You wondered.

“I’m usually, you know, after a guy in the chair,” he chuckled. His voice was sporadic and nervous, shaky and embarrassed. You thought it was adorable.

“Oh, yeah? And how can I help with that?”

“I think I’d much rather prefer a girl in the chair.”

You smiled up at him, biting your lip as you looked at your laptop.

“Okay, Spider-Man. What’s the plan?”

You listened patiently as Spider-Man explained to you his ordeal. You watched him talk, heard the soothing melody of his voice. He was typing on your computer now, helping you connect to the coms in his ear. Your mind wandered away for a few seconds.

You wondered what your soulmate was doing at the hour. You wondered if he was looking for you as thoroughly as you were looking for him. You were convinced he was; love was stupidly difficult to fight. You were convinced that he was looking for his perfect girl, for the woman he would call his for the rest of his life. You were convinced because you knew admitting you had no soulmate at all was the worst thing you could think of.

The universe would not have given you such a drive if it meant you were waiting for no one. The universe would not have made you what you are if it meant you were looking for a ghost.

Your eyes wandered over to your board, and you recited the areas from Tuesday to Thursday in your head again, trying to find where you went wrong. The whole situation was making you feel so inferior, so stupid, but you figured that’s just what love did to people like you. Your eyes scanned over the lists, your eyes adjusted to Tuesday again.

You were almost positive that Tuesday was the day that you had felt that ignition inside of you. You were almost sure that Tuesday was it. Your gut instinct was clawing at that day, urging your fingers to brush over all the crossed out locations.

peppermint mocha across the street

met spider-boy

milk and cookies at the corner store

spare key from receptionist in lobby

mail from lobby

thai noodles from that place on 54th

mashable magazine from that stand on melrose

What were you missing? What were you not seeing? What was slipping right over your head?

Before you could contemplate your questions, Spider-Man was giving you a salute as he started for your window.

“Ready?” He asked you nervously. You rested your head in your hands, nodding.

“Yeah, superhero. You can count on me.”

Before you could say another word, he bent his head down and kissed your forehead through the mask. You sighed at the feeling, your lashes fluttering shut at the gentleness. When you opened your eyes, he was gone.

You adjusted your glasses, brushed a hand over your flushed cheeks, and let your fingers hover over your cell phone for Spider-Man’s cue.

part 5

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d-noona · 4 years

Text

MAKE OVER

Chapter 5: Jeon Jungkook

Jung Hoseok x Reader

Reader as Kang Hyeonji

SUMMARY: When Kang Hyeonji transformed herself into a striking redhead, the entire male population of Seoul stood up and took notice. But her make over was for Jung Hoseok’s benefit alone. He began to show interest in the new look but not in the way she wanted. Suddenly he was over-protective, perhaps a little jealous. It seemed that the idea of having a relationship with her couldn’t be further from his mind. The girl however wants more. So it was time for an ultimatum. If Hoseok didn’t want Hyeonji to lose her virginity to another admirer, he had no option but to make love to her himself.

Choon Hee grabbed her the moment she walked into the library, and dragged her down to the privacy of the back room. "I'm dying of curiosity," she said, quite unnecessarily, since her whole body language reeked of a breathless tension. "Did you doll yourself up like we told you to? Did you wear the perfume? Did you knock glamour boy for six when he came to pick you up?"

Hyeonji had thought about what she would tell the girls this morning. She'd walked more slowly to work than usual, mulling over whether she should lie or not. Now the moment of truth was at hand, and despite Choon Hee's eager face Hyeonji could not bring herself to make up a story.

"No I didn't doll myself up," she confessed, with a wealth of apology in her voice. "I didn't wear the perfume either, though it was a lovely though, Choon hee and I do thank you and Han Byeol for it. And as I'm sure you've guessed...no, I didn't knock Hoseok for six when he came to pick me up."

Choon Hee exhaled a huge sigh of disappointment. "Oh, Hyeonji! How many chances like that do you think you're going to get?"

"Actually, last night wasn't a total disaster. Hobi did notice at last how much weight I'd lost. He also told me I had a nice figure and good legs...for someone so short."

"He did? Wow! You must have been thrilled to bits" she says.

"It's not quite good as it sounds," Hyeonji said ruefully, then went on to tell Choon Hee exactly how the compliments had come about. She listened intently, her eyes rounding further with each new revelation. "You mean he thinks you're in love with someone else? This guy he dubbed as Mr. X?"

"Uh-huh..." Hyeonji nodded.

"And he told you how to dress so that you would be more attractive for another man?"

Hyeonji again nods.

"I'd like to strangle him with my bare hands!" says choon Hee in annoyance.

"Don't blame Hobi. I forced him into it." Hyeonji automatically defends her best friend. "Rubbish! That man is a blind fool! Oh, poor baby."

"Not poor baby, at all Choon Hee," she returned with a very firm resolve. "Because I'm going to do it. Follow all of Hoseok's suggestions. But not for him, I'm going to do it for myself." She smiled at her friend. Choon Hee snickered at Hyeonji "Go on with you! You're not!"

"Yes I am"

"You're going to cut your hair short and dye it red?" as choon Hee's eyes grew rounder in shock. "For starters. So do you happen to know a good hairdresser who doesn't cost the earth? Also where I might find a make-up expert who gives free advice and tuition?"

Choon Hee's dark eyes twinkled with excitement "I certainly do. But gosh, Hyeonji, whatever is your mother going to say?" Hyeonji wasn't sure. But she would find out that evening. To be honest, the prospect was a daunting one. It wasn't like her to make waves. Or to do something as bold as this. But she was determined to change herself, and her life...whatever the cost.

Fortunately, she had a few bucks placed away for emergencies –and which she would use for her first visit to the hairdresser, and some make-up. Still, if she was to find enough money from their tight budget for regular visits to the hairdresser and a whole new wardrobe, then some changes would have to be made to their day-to-day lifestyle.

Her own salary was almost totally eaten up with the two mortgages her father had taken out shortly before he died, and her mother's pension barely covered their living expenses and other bills, with little left over for luxuries.

Hyeonji waited till after dinner before she brought up her plan for her future, and was not really surprised when her mother reacted badly. "But why do you want to change yourself so dramatically?" Zil asked in a tremulous voice. "I don't understand. This isn't like you at all!"

"Mum," Hyeonji returned patiently, "I'm twenty-three and I have not had one single steady boyfriend in my life. I do not want to become an old maid. I want to get married one day and have a family of my own. To get married I need a man, and to get a man I need to do something about attracting one."

"It's not any man you want to attract, missie,"came her waspish accusation. "It's Jung Hoseok. You were perfectly happy till you went out with him last night and now you've got all these silly ideas in your head."

"They are not silly ideas," Hyeonji said more sternly. "Yes I do have feelings for Hoseok. I always have had. I won't deny it. But you were right when you said he'd never fall in love with me, he thinks of me as a kid sister. But that doesn't mean I'm going to spend the rest of my life pinning after him. Since men don't exactly come flocking to my door, I aim to get out and about a bit more, and I aim to look darned good when I do so. Looking good costs money, which brings me to my first suggestion. What do you think about selling this house and buying something smaller? The mortgages are killing us."

Her mother gave her a truly horrified look. "Oh, no! No, no, no! I love this house. It's all I have. You can't ask that of me. You can't!"

Hyeonji relented and moved straight to plan B. To be honest she hadn't really wanted to sell. As much as she'd told both Choon Hee and her mother that these radical changes were for herself, she still wanted to see Hoseok's reaction to the finished product. Silly of her perhaps but a fact. "Okay, forget selling," she said briskly. "My alternative suggestion is that we advertise for a boarder."

"A boarder!"

"Yes. We have four bedrooms in this house, Mum, two of which are never used, the master bedroom being one of them. You could get money for that room. It has an en suite, a dressing room and lots of space." As Hyeonji tries to debate with her mother. "Oh, but I couldn't have some strange man living in your father's house and sleeping in his bed!"

Hyeonji prayed for more patience. Her mother's devotion to her father had increased considerably since his death. Couldn't he remember what a selfish bastard he'd been? How he'd wasted all her inheritance from her parents on one stupid get-rich schemes? Worst of all, how he'd often come home late, smelling of booze and cheap perfume?

"You don't have to have a male boarder, Mum. I'm sure there are plenty of widows around your age who need accommodation. It would be company for you as well," Hyeonji pointed out. "I am not going to be at home as much as I used to be."

Zil opened her mouth to protest again, then closed it, her expression petulant. She looked like a sulky child sitting there. Hyeonji felt sorry for her but knew she had to make a stand or her future would be as dull and dreary as she'd been fearing. "Do I have your agreement to put up an add next Wednesday's paper?"

The following day Hyeonji did what she was set out to do, though bombarded with the previous argument she had with her mother, who is still insisting on not getting any boarders, Hyeonji was persistent.

"I can't believe it's me!" Hyeonji exclaimed delightedly. "You're a genius, Taehyung!"

The hairdresser's smile carried a delicious satisfaction. "I must admit I have outdone myself this time!"

Hyeonji beamed anew at this striking and sophisticated-looking creature who was staring back at her in the mirror. She turned her head from side to side and watched the smooth coppery cap shimmer and sway and fall perfectly back into place. "This particular cut will give your hair body and style," Taehyung had pronounced reassuringly while he proceeded to shape her hair while layering the top concentric circles of from her crown. Hyeonji now had a stylish fringe down to her eyebrows, the effect being to diminish the size of her face and nose, and highlight her deeply set hazel brown eyes.

The new coppery color besides being eye-catching in itself, was a perfect foil for her pale skin, giving it a translucency and delicacy which has been lost against her mousy brown hair. When Hyeonji stood up she saw delightedly that the clean lines made her neck look longer and even more elegant.

"You look really different, I mean you're such a babe. If I weren't gay and totally in love with my partner Jimin, honey. I'd bring you home." The hairdresser said, shaking his head admiringly. "Taller too."

Hyeonji chuckles at Taehyung. "Yeah, I think you're right. I do look different," Hyeonji said excitedly. "Oh, Taehyung how could I ever thank you? It was so kind of you to fit me in your schedule tonight."

"It was my pleasure. Now how are you going to get home?" Taehyung asked once Hyeonji had handed the money. "I'll walk it's not that far." Taehyung lived less than a block from the library, which was only a fifteen-minute walk from her house. Taehyung frowned. "Do you think that's wise? It's Friday night, you know."

"What do you mean?" she asked inquisitively.

"People let their hair down on a Friday night around here. You'll have to walk past the bar on your way home, won't you?" says Taehyung. "Yes" Hyeonji responds.

"Then you better watch yourself. You're not exactly inconspicuous with that new red hair you know." Taehyung's warning startled Hyeonji. She'd never been hassled by unwanted male attention in all her life and simply could not anticipate that a mere change in hair color would create trouble for her, especially when she was still dressed in her library uniform.

But she was wrong.

She'd just passed the tavern and was halfway along the past stretch which followed the railway line when a hotted-up Chevie full of less than savory individuals rumbled by. "Hey babe!" one of them called out.

Hyeonji averted her eyes and crossed the road as soon as they passed by, then nearly died when she heard the tires screech as the driver executed a U-turn. Before she could blink, the car was cruising along next to her and an obviously drunk, loud-mouther lout was leaning out of the passenger window in her direction.

"Where you going baby?" he said breathing beer fumes in her way. "Wanna ride?"

She quickened her step and kept her eyes straight ahead. "What's the matter? You think you're too good for us? Fellas, you think we should teach Madam here a lesson or two?"

Her mouth dry with fear, Hyeonji was just about to run for it when a sleek black car shot around the Chevie and pulled up dead. The driver of the Chevie had to brake hard to avoid a collision and the man hanging by the passenger window almost tipped out onto the road. When a tall dark haired man dressed in black jumped out from behind the wheel of the black car and began stalking back towards Hyeonji's verbal assailant, the man shouted something and scrambled back into the vehicle, spun around and roared off.

Her savior curved his big hands over her shaking shoulders and peered down over her pale face. "You all right there miss?" he said. It was only then that Hyeonji recognized the identity of her rescuer.

It was Jeon Jungkook.

"Yes I think so," Hyeonji says in a breathless hush. "Thank you so much for stopping, Jungkook." His surprise at her for knowing his name was obvious in the jerking back of his head, and the widening of his dark eyes. Hyeonji would've gratified if she hadn't still been shaking like a leaf. "It's Hyeonji," she said "Kang Hyeonji"

"Hyeonji?" His startled gaze lifted to her hair, then swiftly ran down her body and up again. "Good Lord, it is you. I didn't recognize you with that stunning hair, and you've lost weight too, haven't you?"

"A little..."

His smile took on a knowing edge as he looked at her up and down again. "More than a little. You're looking fantastic. Too fantastic to be walking down these streets at night on your own. No wonder you almost got yourself into trouble. Come on, I'll drive you home."

After her frightening experience with those creeps Hyeonji wasn't about to refuse. She wouldn't have been human either, if she hadn't been flattered by Jungkook's compliments by her appearance, and by the way he kept looking at her.

His touch seemed gentle and solicitous as he helped her into the passenger side of his roomy black sedan, but when he sashed the seatbelt into place for her Hyeonji was quite sure his left hand deliberately brushed over the tips of her breasts. She stiffened inside but said nothing, ignoring his attempt to make eye contact at the same time. Creeps came in various forms she thought ruefully. It was obvious that outright rape wasn't his thing. Silky smooth seductions and one night stands where his forte. He would use his golden tongue to talk his way into a girl's bed. Hyeonji decided not to get carried away with Jungkook's words of praise. She didn't doubt she looked better with her new hairdo, but she wasn't competition for Tinashe just yet.

They were only a minute away from her home by car, but Jungkook didn't waste a second, bombarding her with questions designed to elicit the only information from a female he would want to know. How old was she exactly, where did she work these days. Did she have a boyfriend? Unfortunately Hyeonji didn't realize where Jungkook was heading till she told him several truths with naïve honesty.

As soon as he pulled up the curve outside her house, he turned and asked her if she would like to come out for a drink with him later that night. "I could pick you up at say...ten thirty?"

Hyeonji might've been inexperienced with men but she knew that to agree with such invitation at that hour of the night was to agree to more than just a drink. She didn't doubt that she'd get a drink. Plenty of them. And all of them alcoholic. Then, when she was suitably plastered Jungkook would take her back to his orgy palace for a night of raw naked sex. The very thought of Jungkook naked gave Hyeonji chills down her spine. He had a great body, facially he was very handsome, no doubt a lot of women fancied his darkly macho appearance with that playboy bunny smile of his, but Hyeonji preferred Hoseok's fairer more elegant looks.

Her favorite fantasy always included running her hands through his silky black hair and over his smooth chest. It turned her on just to imagine touching his body, whereas the thought of touching Jungkook's made her skin crawl.

"Thank you Jungkook," she said politely "For everything, but I'm sorry I can't. Not tonight."

To give him credit he took the rejection well. His black eyes glittered with undeniable confidence as he smiled over at her. "That's all right, another time maybe?"

"Perhaps," not wanting to be rude to her rescuer. "I'll call you," he said then started the engine and left.

Chapter 06

Masterlist

#BTS #BANGTANSONYEONDAN #BTSJHOPE #JUNGHOSEOK #JUNGHOSEOKXREADER #BTSFANFIC #MAKEOVER #BTSROMANCEFANFIC #YOUREMYHOPE #MYANGEL

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gothify1 · 5 years

Photo

As a fashion market editor , I undoubtedly enjoy some job perks (travel, clothes, events… to name a few), but my favorite part of going into the office every day is the conversation among the editors , particularly when it comes to advice. I can’t tell you how many new brands I’ve learned about, the amount of fashion celebrity news I’ve kept up with, or even the number of cool new dinner spots I've discovered, all thanks to my colleagues. Another bonus is that I sit right behind the Who What Wear beauty team , which means I get to eavesdrop on everything they discuss, from amazing supplements to the newest makeup launches to a facial they recently tried. Luckily, I also get to test-drive some of the products they receive, sometimes acting as a guinea pig for a new lipstick or skincare item that landed on their desks. I always want to know everything about how to make my beauty, skincare, and wellness regimens better (especially now that my wrinkles are real), so I’m always open to hearing their expert tips and thoughts on the latest and greatest in the wellness-and-beauty space. From what products help you feel less bloated to the items you should never use on your face and how to prevent breakouts, below I’m sharing the essential tips and tricks that I’ve learned from our beauty-and-wellness team—and the must-have products they swear by. "Taking a consistent dosage of magnesium every day has been game-changing for me this year. I usually take it right before bed (this new Moon Juice launch tastes so dreamy and immediately disappears into water), and it helps me sleep, stave off stress, and feel less bloated. It's basically a magical supplement I've been telling everyone to look into if they suffer from any of the above issues." "I feel like people think brush-on fiber mascaras are passé, but if you find a good formula, the results are so good and way easier than dealing with false lashes, extensions, or other lash-related options. I can't quit this particular one from Australian brand MCo Beauty and start to panic whenever the tube starts to reach its end. I always get compliments on my lashes when I wear it (people think they're extensions!), so I've been telling everyone about this." "Don't use coconut oil as a beauty product. I think I'm especially sensitive to coconut oil and coconut oil–derived ingredients, but just looking at the stuff makes me break out and my pores clog. It's in SO many beauty products these days, and I'm secretly convinced it's the reason so many adults are having random acne issues they never had before. I pretty much have to scan every single ingredient list, and lip products are the absolute worst offenders. For anyone who's been breaking out around their mouth or lips, check your products! The below lip balm from PCA Skin is my favorite and one of the only products I've ever tried that keeps my lips hydrated for literally days and doesn't have coconut oil or any other comedogenic oils in it." "I was plagued by the worst and most stubborn breakouts until I realized a sneaky supplement I was taking (the biotin in my favorite hair gummies) was the cause behind my never-ending cycle of acne. I'm bummed because I loved my hair gummies, but ever since I quit them cold-turkey, my skin has cleared, and I haven't gotten any new breakouts. I did some research and asked my go-to esthetician, Dakota Katt at Vanessa Hernandez Skincare, about it, and it turns out this is totally a thing and a huge issue for a lot of people since our bodies can only absorb so much biotin. Sad, but true. Instead, I'll be solely relying on my favorite multivitamins from Ritual (which don't have biotin) to keep everything topped up." "I mist my face all day, every day. I keep spritzers and aerosols on my desk and in my car so I can mist on the go for an extra hit of moisture or even to reapply SPF. It's a quick and easy way to care for my skin no matter where I am." "Clear lip gloss is one of the first beauty products I was allowed to wear as a teenager, so my love for it runs deep. No matter how my day is going, adding a swipe of shiny gloss to my lips instantly makes me feel 100% fiercer." "Don't quiz me on the science behind face rollers, but I've been really into taking this tool to my face before bed at night. I haven't noticed a huge difference just yet, but the instant soothing and tension release coupled with the potential de-puffing that could come into play are all motivation enough for me to stick with it." "Water is (almost) always the answer. Or at least it's the first question I ask if I'm feeling off: Did you drink enough water today? I always try to make sure I drink enough water throughout the day so I'm feeling energized and refreshed. Bringing along a reusable water bottle always ensures I'm hydrating." "I think it's important to take lots of breaks throughout the day, no matter what you're doing, but especially when you're at work. It's a nice mental health reset. I like to take a walk around (even if it's just for a couple of minutes), take some deep breaths, and center my mind. Luckily, I have an Apple Watch, so it tells me when I should stand up and stretch, but if you don't have one, just try to do it every one or two hours." "This is a sleep trick I've learned from an expert I spoke to for a story about falling back to sleep after waking up in the middle of the night: Don't clock-watch. Before, when I used to look at my phone or nightstand clock, I'd start thinking (and thinking and thinking) about how many hours I had left for sleep until I had to wake up, which would cause me to stress out. Now, I force myself to not reach for my phone, which is also great since there's no light to disrupt my eyes or Instagram to distract me, and that's made a world of difference for falling back to sleep quicker." There's no denying Augustinus Bader's cult-loved face cream is quite expensive at $265 a pot. But the holy-grail cream with A-list fans is worth all the hype. I was able to try a sample from the beauty editors, and I absolutely fell in love. It's seriously hydrating and leaves my skin with an incredible glow. This is now my go-to everyday lipstick thanks to the beauty team. It's universally flattering, and celebs, editors, and beauty mavens can't get enough of it. Where would I be without my dry shampoo? This one instantly soaks up excess oil while adding texture and volume. I think practically every person in our office owns this cult eyebrow product. We're always on a quest to make our brows thick and defined yet natural-looking. Glossier's Boy Brow is the way to do it. For those suffering from acne issues, this face mask is a godsend. It's infused with charcoal and clay, which clear pores and leave skin detoxified, smooth, and perfectly glowy. Not bad for $12! Our sister company, Versed, released an incredible (and affordable) skincare line this year, and, of course, we got to be the first ones to try it. This hydration booster serum is one of my favorites from the collection. It's made of two types of hyaluronic acid, which hydrates the skin and the layers beneath it. The serum can be used alone or with a moisturizer or foundation and is perfect for those with ultra-dry skin. This essential eucalyptus oil will help you shorten your cold overnight—you can also use it to make a DIY vapor rub—just mix with peppermint oil and coconut oil and rub on your chest. Because cold season is officially here, friends! Up next, 17 mascaras that won't irritate sensitive eyes .

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overthinkingkdrama · 7 years

Text

Old Souls

{A Scarlet Heart: Ryeo fan fiction}

Set immediately after the end of episode 20.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Waking up in Jin Woo's bed, Ha Jin felt as though she was drunk from the night before. She knew that she couldn’t be. She knew couldn’t blame what had happened on a single drop of alcohol. No, this was all her.

But as she lay there, thinking about it, it was hard to believe she was sober. The feverish urgency to touch. Struggling to unfasten the hooks of her skirt. Trembling fingers splayed against his shoulders. How good he had felt beneath her hands, how familiar. It was still so raw in recollection. A heady thing she’d never expected to experience again. That self-erasing desire to pour all of herself into him. To disappear into him.

Now she couldn't remember...what name had she called him by? Had it been Jin Woo she had called out for in the dark, or had it been something else...hwangja-nim...So-ya, jebal...

She didn't know. But she could still hear his whisper in her ear, vibrating through her. He'd called her Hae Soo. Soo-ya. Over and over again. She hadn't just imagined that.

Jin Woo had rolled away from her in the night. She saw his dark outline against the predawn creeping in between the slats of the blinds. The temptation was still there, to tuck herself nearer, to fold herself around him, feel his warmth and sleep. Perhaps he would feel her stirring, would turn to reach for her and then...

The urge was fleeting and she pushed it away.

Slipping quietly from the bed she began to look around for her clothes. She had left pieces of herself all over his apartment. Her phone was by the bed, her blouse tossed over the corner of the bedroom door. She found her skirt and shoes on the bathroom floor. And her keys were in the kitchen. At first she had to wrack her brain to remember when she’d gone to the kitchen. But upon searching she found the vivid sensation of being lifted up onto the counter, of her bare back pressed up against the cool stainless steel refrigerator. She felt her face burning in the dim room, and quickly fled the scene.

Finally, she was forced to open the blinds ever so slightly to be certain she wasn't missing any of her things. She couldn't face the humiliation of returning to that place to recover a forgotten earring, beige stalking, or some other token of the reckless evening she’d spent.

When she turned around she was facing Jin Woo. Wound in blankets, his chest and shoulders were bare, his sleeping face upturned toward her. Then more than at any time before she felt with a pang how—for all their similarities—this was not Wang So, not his face, not his body.

Wang So's story has been written all over him. You could read on his skin every hurt, every indignity he'd ever suffered. And she had loved those scars, because they were his and perhaps even more because he couldn't love himself. She had traced them with her fingers. She had pressed her lips against each one and softly murmured that he was hers. Her person.

Jin Woo's skin was smooth and clean. Without a nick or a blemish. The unmarked skin of a perfect stranger. And she knew keenly that she had harmed him by following him here. By fooling herself and selfishly pretending he was So, even for one night.

She could never let it happen again.

When Jin Woo woke—hours after his usual time—he was groggy but more refreshed than he had been in weeks. His bed was a tangle of blankets and the sun was streaming through his blinds, warm on his face.

He knew that he was alone before he stretched out his hand and felt the empty space beside him. He knew it before he stood up and halfheartedly searched his apartment for evidence of the night before. He remembered what had transpired with Ha Jin, in radical detail, but he what he couldn’t seem to remember was how she had gotten there or when she had left.

Was it all real? He wondered as he started brewing his coffee, trying to piece together the events of the night before.

He was only half way into his first cup when he heard the rapid electronic chime of someone punching his doorbell repeatedly. He didn’t have time to get to the door or even wonder who it was before the door code was entered and Min Ki came striding into his kitchen looking ready for a fight.

“So here you are.”

“Where else would I be?” Jin Woo asked, confused.

“Oh, I don’t know. The hospital? Jail? Up on a ledge somewhere? Are you aware that your phone is off?”

He hadn’t been. Looking around he spotted it on the kitchen counter where he’d left it the night before. He picked it up, but the battery was long dead.

“There’s nothing wrong. Sorry about last night. I’m…okay.”

“What the hell happened to you?” Min Ki said, livid. “Hanging up on me like that…Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

Jin Woo opened his mouth but he had nothing to say for himself. Trying to think back to his conversation with Min Ki the night before, he found his memories were hazy as though he’d been drunk. “I…I think Ha Jin was here last night.”

“Wait, what do mean ‘you think’? Shouldn’t that be something you’re pretty sure about?”

“I mean…Yes, she was definitely here.”

Min Ki frowned at him, cocking his head to one side. “When you say she was here do mean…spent the night here?” At the last phrase he raised both eyebrows.

Jin Woo felt suddenly embarrassed, “Uh…y-yeah.”

Min Ki stared for several moments, his expression flickering between amusement, outrage and sheer confusion. He raised his hands over his head and started pacing up and down the living room, occasionally beginning to speak and then breaking off as he tried to absorb this new information. Jin Woo had seen his friend like this on previous occasions. Trying to question it or calm him wouldn’t help anything. You just had to wait for him to wind down on his own.

At last he said, “Okay…I think this might be great for you.”

“How is it great?”

“Well…you know you two have that magnet thing the mudang was talking about. Maybe this was exactly what you two needed to…uh…demagnetize or whatever. Get all of that bad karma worked out of your systems.”

“Min Ki-ya, I’m pretty sure that’s not how magnets or anything else works.”

“Well, hell if I know what to tell you then, man. Last I’d heard you’d royally screwed things up with this woman to the point that she never wanted to see you again. Now I come to find out she slept over at your place. How does that work, pray tell?”

“I wish I knew. I woke up this morning and she was gone.”

“That’s not a great sign, I will admit.” Min Ki was thoughtful, tapping his finger against his lips and looking off as though drawing upon the vast range of experience he had with this subject, “You should give it a few days and see if she contacts you.”

“But we don’t even have each other’s numbers.”

“Still? How did you even meet up last night?”

Jin Woo’s brow furrowed, trying to remember. “I think I…I went to the boutique again.”

“You went back to her job? That’s so sketchy!”

“Yes, thank you. I’m aware of that.”

“I don’t know what’s more confusing. The way you seem bent on scaring this girl off, or the fact that she seems to be responding to it.”

Jin Woo looked down at the gauze and surgical tape that was still wrapped around the fleshy part of his hand. He was confident that his reason for going to her last night had been clear as a bell, clear as a word spoken into his ear. Why couldn’t he remember it now?

He felt that despair welling up in him again. Felt alone. Felt that he was treading water in the dark, barely keeping afloat. Worst of all, he felt like this was becoming his new normal. “I don’t get it either. I really don’t. My heart…my head...It doesn’t feel like they’re my own anymore. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I don’t know the person staring back at me. I don’t know what I might do next. It’s terrifying.”

Min Ki moved to stand next to him. All traces of anger or amusement were gone from his expression. He put an arm around Jin Woo’s shoulders, “Whatever this is, you and I can handle it.”

“I’ll never understand why you don’t give up on me.”

”You’re my best friend. I’m in this for the long haul.” Min Ki said grinning, “There’s a solution we just need to figure out what it is.”

“What’s left to figure out? So I’m having some kind of visions from the past. Fine, great, whatever. So I knew Go Ha Jin in a former life and now our fates are tied up together somehow. I can accept that. What am I supposed to do about it? I’ve already tried everything I can think of. My connection with Ha Jin is the only thing I have to go on. She is where all of it begins and ends. And being near her is the only thing that even remotely helps, but she’s—”

“Mysterious and mercurial?” Min Ki offered.

“Just as freaked out by all this as I am.” Jin Woo finished his thought with a grimace. “There’s no self-help book for this. No talisman I can buy. If I could study my way out of this, at least that’s something I’m good at. If I could go to the library or if there was some expert I could ask…” He trailed off, something occurring to him that he hadn’t thought about since that day at the gallery. A detail that had been lost in the confusion since this whole mess began.

Without explaining himself, Jin Woo went immediately into the bedroom and started sifting through his belongings. Picking up his wallet and searching through it, opening the drawers in his bedside table and finally walking into the closet and going through his clothes, pulling down big sections of hangers and throwing them onto the floor in his search.

“I couldn’t have thrown it away, could I? I know I didn’t…”

Min Ki followed, watching him with curiosity, finally saying, “Alright, you’re running ahead without me again. Fill me in on what’s going on in your head.”

“There was this…this person. This shifty guy who shuttled Ha Jin away from the gallery that day. He talked to me and he said all of these peculiar things.”

“What sort of peculiar things?”

“He made a big point about me looking like Gwangjong. He said to call him if something happened. Just like that. Didn’t say what would happen, just that I would know when it did.”

Jin Woo spoke in fits and starts, lapsing into awkward silences as he tried to remember which of his several, nearly identical suit jackets he’d been wearing that day, digging through the pockets of each one until he found what he was looking for.

“Here it is.”

He held out the creased and ragged business card for Min Ki to read. It had an office phone number and above the number it read: Choi Yoon Jung, Professor of Antiquities.

Ha Jin had decided to keep herself so busy that she didn’t have time to think about Jin Woo. It worked, at least for a little while.

She picked up doubles at work until her manager simply refused schedule her any more hours, rang up friends she had talked to for years. Went clubbing—she didn’t even like clubbing. And when she did have a day off, she spent most of it on a train to visit her mother. It was only a matter of time before she ran out of ways to distract herself and when she did, he was still there waiting for her at the back of her mind. She found that she had been missing him, even looking for an excuse to see him again. The realization made her want to run away all over again. The internal tug-of-war was maddening.

She was sure she would go screaming into the middle of the street if she didn’t talk to someone about what had happened, she got a cab and had it take her to Ji Mong’s house. The journey there felt oddly like she was on her way to confession. In a way she was. Ji Mong was like a priest, in that he was the only person she knew who had insight into the specific supernatural tribulations of her life. And in the way that he said a lot of kindly, but largely unhelpful things that she only half understood.

When she arrived at his house, she was left waiting on the front steps for a long time. Maybe he’s not home, Ha Jin thought. I should have called before I came over. But it had become her habit to drop by unannounced, and she always seemed to find him at home.

But she heard his voice over the intercom, “Ha Jin-ah, I didn’t expect to see you today.” Through the static crackle he sounded uncertain, like she’d caught him in the middle of something.

“I can go if it’s not a good time.”

“No, just wait a moment. I’ll be right there.”

It was unusual for him to greet her at the door. Normally, he would just buzz her in and she would find her own way to the kitchen where he’d already be brewing tea. Now, when he let her in he looked anxious about something. They were still in the foyer when he stopped her and said, “I need to warn you about something.”

“What?”

“Lee Jin Woo is here. I asked him to wait out in the garden.”

The news struck Ha Jin like a lightning bolt, and for a moment she was too stunned to speak. Why is he here? Why here? This is supposed to be my hiding place.

“I promise I didn’t plan to ambush you.”

“Why would you bring him here?"

“I didn’t bring him here. He sought me out. I gave him my card, remember? I couldn’t turn him away.”

“You’ve been meeting with him. Since when?”

“Not very long. A few days. ”

Ha Jin was shocked at the surge of genuine anger this inspired. Anger she knew, almost immediately, was unfair. She hadn’t told Ji Mong about Jin Woo’s reappearance in her life. Certainly hadn’t told him about their date. And that night…well, that was what she was here for today. To get advice. But how could he give that to her now?

“He didn’t come here looking for you; he came here for answers about what’s been happening to him. The least I could do was to listen. To try to help him in any way I could.”

Ha Jin’s heart was beating fast. She pressed her hand to her chest, a habit carried over from when she was Soo. When an elevated heart rate used to mean pain and shortness of breath. Now she did it whenever she had an unpleasant surprise. “What did you tell him?”

“I explained what I know about the time slip and my theory about his, well, Wang So’s memories. I didn’t tell him anything about the two of you…what happened between you. I didn’t think it was my place. I know I can’t make you meet with him if you don’t want to but—”

"I can't." She said, anticipating what he would say next.

“I think you should talk to him. He thinks he's losing his mind. Anyone would feel like that in his position. He asked me about who he used to be. I was honest with him, but he has questions that only you can answer. He has a right to know to know what’s going on in his own head."

“Yes. He has that right. But I have the right to choose, too. I can barely take care of myself. How can I take responsibility for his mental health? I don’t want to get sucked back into this. It hurt enough the first time. It hurts now. Enough that I wish I’d never remembered anything!”

“I know how much it hurts. I don’t claim to know everything you went through, but I was there too Ha Jin-ah. I lost someone too. I would do anything if I could change places with you and see my king again. And I wouldn’t trade my memory of him for anything.” Ji Mong’s eyes were shining. Ha Jin had seen him like this before only at rare moments when he forgot himself, giving vent to an old grief. For the first time she realized who he was talking about. It’s Wang Moo. That’s why he’s been looking for the physical reincarnations of the other princes. He’s been hoping to find Moo again.

She’d been so wrapped up in her own loss, that she’d barely wondered what this was like for Ji Mong. Even then Ha Jin could see the astronomer, wading into the mercury tainted bath and cradling the second king of Goryeo in his arms, voice breaking as he called to him—first Pyeha, and then more softly Moo-ya—but his call would never be answered.

He went on, “Have you considered the possibility that he’s waited more than a thousand years for the chance to meet you outside of the palace walls?”

Suddenly, Ha Jin felt ashamed of flouting the thing that Ji Mong—it was now so clear—wanted the most. A second chance with his own person, his own king.

The strong emotion he’d betrayed to her a few brief moment faded as quickly as it appeared. He had said the hard thing that needed saying, not unlike when he’d told her that she wasn’t meant to marry the king. He wouldn’t fight with her anymore. He said, “Maybe you’ve got it right. Perhaps the heavens saw fit to only give us one short lifetime together. I have to try to accept that fate.”

“Heaven’s will can be a real son of a bitch.” She said softly.

“You’re not wrong.” Ji Mong agreed.

She was still scared to see him. What could she say to him? That perfect stranger with So’s eyes and So’s smile.

“I will go and ask him to leave. You can even wait upstairs and I’ll tell you when it’s safe to come down.” He said, “Is that what you want?”

The two found a nearby café where they could face each other on neutral ground. Ji Mong had offered to leave his house for a few hours so they could speak in private, but that seemed more dangerous than the alternative. It felt strange to try to say what they needed to say there, even if they were alone. Besides, Ha Jin couldn’t trust herself to be alone with Jin Woo. A public place was better. A public place offered protection.

They bought their drinks and found a quiet place to sit, away from the other patrons.

Jin Woo’s hands toyed nervously with his mug of coffee, but he didn’t seem interested in the drink. Neither did he meet her eyes. Ha Jin was searching for something to say, some way to begin.

Mercifully he spoke first, “So, it all happened. The dreams I’ve been having. Those flashes…They’re real.”

“Yes.”

“And you too. You were there. You didn’t just dream about it, you actually went back there, didn’t you? That’s how you knew my face.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

“I’ll believe you. If you tell me that’s what happened.”

“You’re very trusting.”

“I’m very confused. To be honest, I’m freaking out right now. The professor and you are offering me an explanation I can kind of understand. When I talk to you, things start making sense again.” He became shy after saying this and they lapsed into silence again for some moments, pretending to drink their drinks.

What’s your exit strategy? Ha Jin asked herself. How do you tell someone you were in love with them in a past life, but you’re not interested anymore?

As if he had some idea of what she was thinking he said, “Do I look like him?”

She answered him without thinking, “Very like. Almost identical actually, except…” She was about to say something about the scar, but she stopped herself. If he hasn’t remembered that part on his own, better not to say anything about it.

“I’m not him, though.”

“No.”

“And you’d prefer it if I was, right? Not just a lookalike.”

The question surprised her and she had to think about it before she answered, “I don’t know how I feel about it. A lot happened in the past. Things I wish would stay there. But now we have different names and different lives and we have to live in the present.” With every word she felt that she was withdrawing further into herself, not giving anything away. She watched his face as she spoke and could see he felt it too, how she was keeping him ever at arm’s length. No closer. “Doesn’t it bother you? That we’re only talking now because you look like someone else? If we were to keep seeing each other it would only be for him, never for you. It would never be real.”

“I’m not sure I care.” He said, surprising her again.

“What?”

“Whether the feelings I have for you are mine or not, I have them now. And I don’t want to get rid of them. Whatever the source, whatever your reason for being interested in me, I don’t really care. The result is the same.”

“You’re blowing your feelings out of proportion because we slept together.”

“No. I know what you’re thinking but this isn’t that. I don’t feel this way because I slept with you. I wanted to sleep with you because I feel this way.” He looked very fierce for a moment, very like So. But before she could be sure of what she’d seen, he had dropped his eyes and continued uncertainly, “And I still…want to…with you. It doesn’t seem to matter that I’m not the person you’re looking for. Is that wrong?”

It was her turn to stammer and struggle for the next words. “It is. It is wrong. And that’s why we shouldn’t see each other anymore.” She wanted to say more, but she was on her back foot now. He had again her fixed in a very direct gaze and her next words caught in her throat.

“Do you know what I think?” He said, “I think you’re trying very hard to do the right thing. I can see that deep down you’re not a cold person. You’re very kind, and you’re trying to be the strong one. You’re trying not to press your advantage. You’re trying to avoid doing something you think will get both of us hurt. It’s very admirable, it is.”

“Don’t act like you know I feel. You can’t possib—”

“You’re right. I don’t know. But I’m trying to understand. Let me ask you this. Why did you leave without a note or a word, the other morning?”

“Well, because I…” She trialed off.

“I think I can guess. You left because you felt guilty. Because you felt like you were using me, isn’t that it?”

She didn’t answer, but she already felt like he’d caught her somehow and she couldn’t say anything.

“But the thing is I was using you too. I feel so damn alone when I’m not with you. I don’t think you should feel guilty at all. I don’t think you should worry about whether it’s right or wrong. Let me worry about that.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

“What I’m saying is this: If you don’t want me…If you don’t want anything to do with me then fine. You can walk away right now. I’ll never contact you again. I’ll figure out how to live somehow. But if you’re walking away because you feel bad for me or because you don’t want to hurt me, or use me…then I just want to tell you that I don’t care. If that’s all this is, then don’t hesitate.”

It began to dawn on Ha Jin what Jin Woo was proposing, and rationally the idea of it repulsed her. She had never even dated casually. She’d always been looking for the “one” even well before she’d been sent to Goryeo. Whether it was Ha Jin’s first, cheating boyfriend, Hae Soo’s liaison with the 8th prince, or even her love for So, she’d always given her everything and it had always gotten her hurt. Still, she couldn’t imagine being with someone with an expiration date in mind.

And yet, as Jin Woo spoke color came into his face, his became eyes more intense. She felt that, in spite of herself, he was drawing her in. Like on the night they’d gone home together, she felt the same sensation of inertia pulling them toward one another. And all of her efforts and best intentions couldn’t avert the inevitable collision.

“I’m fully conscious of what kind of relationship this would be, and I’m okay with it. Whenever you want to stop, we can stop. I know it might seem crazy. Maybe it is. But I want you. Under any conditions where I can have you, for as long as you’ll let me. I’m putting myself entirely in your hands…So, what do you think?”

[Chapter 6]

#scarlet heart #scarlet heart: ryeo #moon lovers #fan fiction #fan fic #old souls #chapter 5

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verdigrisprowl · 7 years

Text

Jan 1 Culture Club - The Land Before Time

Prowl left halfway through because Chromedome showed up. And a good thing he did, because then Trepan showed up.

This may make it difficult to go to future movies.

Welcome to the 'chronosmith' room. Jitter: ((Yeah, im just greatful she's got the other films to at least mix it up a bit)) Windchill: (( Great film, but....my god. I still haven't tried to watch it since. )) Windchill: (( I might be old enough and it's been long enough now that I might be able to try. Been like 14 years so let's hope.)) Windchill: (( *stares wistfully out window.* )) Jitter: (( *Restrains self from quouting one of the Spirit songs*)) Jitter: ((That Soundtrack is.... I kinda overdid it on teh soundtrack as a kid)) Windchill: (( I'm sure that's what my sisters latched onto as well, they still have the soundtrack if I recall. )) Windchill: ((It's a good soundtrack but I, a reasonable person, have limits. )) Jitter: ((v much)) Windchill: (( I can remember parts of most of the songs though pffft. )) Windchill: (( The worst part is it's about horses so you know Windchill here would like it. )) Windchill: (( As for The Land Before Time...this is not going to go over well. )) Jitter: ((I think just about anyone can root for the stalion when he's kicking men off his back)) Jitter: (('GET OFF OF MY BACK ASDFASDF") Windchill: (( IT'S JUST...A REALLY GOOD ANIMATED FILM with barely any dialogue. The animation and soundtrack are the heavy lifters. )) FakeProwl: ((hi folks are we lurkin before the movie)) Whirl: ((yes)) Whirl: ((i am gettin seat up but: I love Spirit Whirl: genuinely good movie Windchill: (( Oh no. )) Windchill: (( I was browsing a random dumpster blog and I found this. )) Windchill: (( http://badcharacterdesign.tumblr.com/post/155040963275/spirit-2002-story-of-freedom-and-independence )) Jitter: ((i'm gonna go grab some party mix snacks) Windchill: (( I'mma make coffee, then I shall return to weep over what I have discovered. )) Jitter: (...) Jitter: (lordy) Jitter: ((We all shall weep) Windchill: (( Someone save us. )) Jitter: https://youtu.be/Zlm4QYeysgE Shockbox: (( damnit i need to see more movies because i do not have the context for your pain. )) Windchill: (( T-the broken horse anatomy in that poster shot help. )) Windchill: (( OH MY GOD. )) Whirl: ((WHAT IS THAT NONSENSE)) Windchill: (( You gotta see Spirit. )) Jitter: "Did you even watch the movie you're spining off?" Shockbox: (( i gotta see a /lot/ of things. but i'll add that to the list. )) Jitter: ((and it appears that 'sprit riding free' is a Netflix exclusive thing Windchill: (( We'll probably tie you to a chair and make you watch this one at some point, just saying. )) Windchill: (( It better stay there where I won't see it. )) Whirl: 9(it's gorgeously animated, had a lovely soundtrack, and is pretty dang overall good)) Jitter: ((its boasted as a "Neflix Original" so it will Jitter: "put that hing back where it came from or so help me Ratchet: [[ *squints at that poster* ]] Shockbox: (( i mean i'll be willing to sit down and see it so long as it's with friends. )) Shockbox: (( or during a livestream. )) Windchill: (( Also: Spirit took place in the late like, 1900's so what's with the modern jeans and T's on these girls. )) Windchill: (( Is Spirit immortal. )) Ratchet: [[ okay but is the dark-skinned girl riding spirit's mom becAUSE THAT GOES AGAINST EVERYTHING THE FIRST MOVIE WAS ABAOUT ]] Windchill: (( Also the horses have broken legs and shoulders. )) Windchill: (( I was wondering if that WAS supposed to be Esperanza but...if so she looks more dudely than her son??? )) Windchill: (( The paint doesn't look at all like Rain either so who tf is this. What's happening. )) Windchill: (( Why you desecrate the Only Good Horse Movie. )) Soundwave: ((aha here we go. is it supposed to still say offline?)) Whirl: ((Ye I've not gotten it set up yet)) starscream: *sneaks in* Whirl: *already up in there, fiddling with equipment* Shockbox: *is, as previously mentioned, officially making a first appearance at this esteemed club.* Shockbox: *such high class we have here.* Whirl: ((i'm having some XSplit guff so gimme a sec)) Windchill: *You will regret, Shockwave.* Whirl: *yes, the classiest. Whirl is muttering to himself and occasionally cursing* Jitter: https://twitter.com/spiritridingfre?lang=en Jitter: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/C0O4YxjXEAAHlGW.jpg:large Ratchet: *pops in* starscream: ((I'm not an expert on horses but I feel like that is impossible)) Shockbox: *he's come so far, regret isn't an option.* Jitter: ((Well its a fanpage so??? Jitter: ((And apparently its based on a book series)) starscream: ((no, no I get that, just making an observation, not hating)) Windchill: (( Horse genetics are pretty straightforward I THINK but I'm not even going to do battle with this one I'm already Done(tm) with this. )) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave comes in with everyone except Zori and Chimera, who would be sparkbroken and sobbing at this film, and sends them scattering. Time for his usual seat.* Jitter: ((I'm just as baffled as anyone else, not trying to bite u Star. We're all confused about this spinoff show) Shockbox: *hm. he doesn't have a usual seat, yet.* Whirl: *pops his head up over the equipment* Do you guys see an image of Heqet, praise be to her, on the screen, yet? FakeProwl: *Appears* FakeProwl: ((there she is. praise)) ItsyBitsySpyers: //Praise! She's right there.// Shockbox: (( she's lovely. )) Jitter: *Out of his storage comes a box nibbles, which Jitter adds to the snackbar* Whirl: FINALLY. Jeez. Sorry we're so late. FakeProwl: *checks to see if soundwave is here/not on a full couch, immediately flops next to* FakeProwl: *he's tired. again.* Rodimus: ((these are in the rec room arnt they? FakeProwl: ((i'm also hearing miscellaneous computer sounds, so clearly audio works.)) FakeProwl: ((and there is music!)) Windchill: (( *nods.* )) Whirl: ((THERE'S YA VALEN HALEN)) Ratchet: [[ OH THERE SHE IS ]] Shockbox: (( glad that wasn't my own computer acting up, jeez. )) Whirl: ((so far, yeah, that's how we've been saying it goes down. The movie room)) Windchill: *Raises hand* You done mucking around yet, mate? Windchill: We gotta fight for the couch. Whirl: *pauses and ZOOPS his neck forward, starig at the new Shockwave* Hey. Shockbox: *stares back.* Greetings. Ratchet: [[ but i still have the loading circle of doom going on. tbh there's a high probability i won't even be able to watch because lmao my internet's been going out every night for the past like. month. ]] Whirl: ...*bobs his helm* Welcome to culture club. Whirl: ((OH NO RATCHET ;n;)) Rodimus: ((so yeah shockbox been here before ItsyBitsySpyers: *His poor ally, never getting all the rest he needs. Soundwave turns himself at an angle to give Prowl a somewhat more comfortable leaning space than a flat arm.* Whirl: ((do you have the film? Wana sync up watching and just pop the chat out? Iv'e done that before)) Shockbox: (( in the general area, but not in the club while in character. )) Whirl: ((But his first time at Culture Club--I think he actually came to Little Shop? But if u want this to be the first time that's ok with me)) FakeProwl: *a flat arm is perfectly comfortable tbh. but he'll take whatever he's offered.* Shockbox: (( yes, i was there for LIttle Shop. fun movie. )) Whirl: *and then trots over and assumes his rightful place on the couch* I'm not fighting you. I'm the host. I'm too dignified for that. Jitterbun: ((please ignore my clone)) Ratchet: [[ i sure do not have the film. i've never seen it remember ]] Whirl: ((I THOUGHT.... U HAD)) Jitterbun: ((REfreshed and got kicked)) Jitterbun: ((FFFFF) Whirl: ((lemme know if the loading goes away aight? We'll try and start then!)) Jitterbun: ((Ratchet I had to refresh to get the loading circle to vanish) Shockbox: *So....I don't suppose there're any takers for being a sitting companion to shockbox here.* Windchill: Dignity? PSSSSH. ItsyBitsySpyers: (txt): Prowl certain this wanted activity? Recharge not desired more? Ratchet: [[ go ahead and start my fren i got two seconds of music followed by presumably freeze-screen and now it's gone black lmao you'll be waiting a long damn time if you wait for me ]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy had a decent time in Shockbox's company. He'll plop down nearby again.* Windchill: *Come sit on the Whirl Couch, the violence is free!* Whirl: *he can always try his luck on the Whirl Couch, but goodness only knows how that will go down* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «The Constructicons are still up.» Ratchet: [[ i'm also getting a RIDICULOUS lag on chat. ]] Whirl: ((D:)) Shockbox: *alright, couch buddies with Frenzy it is. not a bad situation. * Whirl: ((It's running pretty smoothly on my end... how is everyone eles'e chat holdin up?)) Shockbox: (( buttery smooth. )) FakeProwl: ((it's fine here)) Jitterbun: ((Your Internet is ill Ratchet.)) ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Understood. Soundwave assists if Constructicons not tired later. Jitterbun: ((Here's hoping the provider is on its case)) Whirl: *he will graciously ignore that slight against his dignity because he is dignified; he also swivels is neck around to look for the usual crowd, some of which aren't here, of course* Whirl: *they, as always, are welcome* Rodimus: *trots in then stops* OH Hey.... There is mecha in here. Jitterbun: *Has already eaten half his snack bowl* Whirl: Nope. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble will sit with Whirl and wave to Rodimus. Yo, mech.* FakeProwl: *slightly skeptical look* @Soundwave «Assist how?» Ratchet: [[ lol nah it's been like this since we moved in april. ]] Whirl: We're all just figments of your imagination. Jitterbun: ((Oooh. Wifi or ethernet? FakeProwl: *rodimus. scoots away from soundwave and sits upright.* Whirl: *scoots to make room for Rumble* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Oh? Oh, yes, he sees. All right then.* FakeProwl: *well, upright-ish. kind of a sleepy slouch.* Windchill: *He's trying to decide whether the couch or the floor is better seating tonight.* Ratchet: [[ wifi. we think the problem might be where the modem is located but there's literally only one phone jack in the house so we're *** ]] Shockbox: *shockwave would welcome the presence of buzzsaw, as well. he wasn't a bad movie partner either.* Rodimus: *couldnt care less* Whirl: *you are also "the usual crowd" doofus, join us on the couch* Jitterbun: ((You can try getting a wifi-booster/extender Whirl: *we can both put our feet on you* Jitterbun: ((My sister did that, and it solved her problems Rodimus: *lazy salute at Rumble* ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Sound, many uses. Certain frequencies encourage system relaxation. Windchill: *But if he sits on the floor, there's more room on the couch.* Whirl: Anyway, yeah, we got Culture Club. Ratchet: [[ idk. our last house was like twice as big but the wifi worked fine all throuhgout. the issue is the One Room With a Phone Jack in this house is actually an extension ]] FakeProwl: *out of all the people in the room, rodimus is the only one who's teased prowl and soundwave. which is saying something, since whirl is here, who will mock anybody, ever. so he's not giving him ammo.* Whirl: *true... and it might be easier to put feet on you that way* Jitterbun: ((They range from like, $30-60 for a decent one. Still a bit pricy if you're paycheck to paycheck,) Ratchet: [[ WE THINK we think that's the issue. so there's a solid brick wall between the modem and the rest of the house lmao ]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Buzzsaw floats over to hover above Shockbox's helm when Frenzy waves him over. Laserbeak will settle on Rodimus in the hopes he'll give her snacks.* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «I might take you up on that, then.» Jitterbun: ((The phonejack is an extention? That souns a bit more like a Wifiemitter, than a booster. A booster doesn't need a phone jack, just a power outlet.) Windchill: *But if he sits on the floor, he'd have to work harder to be a pest.* Rodimus: *smirks at the bird coming toawrd him and waves over to the snacks* Ratchet: [[ what. no. the room the phone jack is in is an extension of the original house ]] Whirl: *well, you'd better make up your mind before someone else takes your seat PFFT LOL J/K IT'S WHIRL* Jitterbun: ((Oooohhh.) Whirl: *NOBODY ELSE WILL TAKE THAT SEAT* Ratchet: [[ and we need the phone jack for internet. no phone jack, no internet. ]] Shockbox: *He looks up when he senses a presence just above him, and relaxes a little when he recognizes buzzsaw.* Whirl: ((Any luck yet ratchet? :( I don't want you to miss your turn at CC...)) Windchill: HMMM. Rodimus: Oh hey! *waves @ shockbox* You are back on the ship again! Ratchet: [[ still a black screen lmao ]] Windchill: *FINE. It is decided.* Windchill: *You'll have to suffer his massive butt being on your couch.* Ratchet: [[ SUCCESS ]] Shockbox: Yes, I am. Jitterbun: ((Well yes, but it sounds like you have a cable-modem/wifi emitter plugged into the phonejack in that room. A Wifi Extender/booster is a different excessory. The way it works is Ratchet: [[ and may i say, a very good musical selection ]] Rodimus: *a squish gel snack for laserbeak~* Ratchet: [[ i gotta go feed charlie he's being a pain but then we're good ]] Jitterbun: by being plugged into a power outlet within range of the current wifi modem, and it 'doubles up' the wifi signal, and sends it farther Shockbox: *he waves back after a few seconds, as if almost forgetting to return the gesture.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Laserbeak stuffs the treat into the beak at the back of her face and whistles happily. Yes. This is a good perch for the evening. Nice and warm.* Jitterbun: https://www.walmart.com/ip/40099975?wmlspartner=wlpa&selectedSellerId=0&adid=22222222227029488055&wl0=&wl1=g&wl2=c&wl3=62898910929&wl4=pla-64746551287&wl5=9007824&wl6=&wl7=&wl8=&wl9=pla&wl10=8175035&w Jitterbun: ((ew sorry for longlink)) Whirl: ((AIGHT LEMME KNOW WHEN u are back!)) Whirl: ((also i need to remember to put this song on the blog whops)) Ratchet: *aaaand Ratchet already did the *pops in* thing but since mun thereafter got caught up in ooc chatter and did nothing with the muse...* Whirl: *he'll also scoot to better accomodate Wiindchill* Ah, yes. My footrest. Ratchet: *pops in* Windchill: It is I, the rest for feet. Whirl: THERE'S our guest of honor! Windchill: *Well if it isn't Ratchet, the guy responsible for what evils will transpire tonight.* Whirl: ((are you ready? 8) )) Whirl: ((....i read that as "what elvis will tanspire tonight")) Rodimus: Hold on... *@LB* Shockbox: (( ready as i'll ever be. )) Rodimus: *he is going to look under the table for one of their ravage's bowls* Shockbox: *guest of honor...? Ah, an iteration of the autobot medic.* Ratchet: [[ is prowl still leaning on slendy ]] Windchill: (( Same thing. )) FakeProwl: *hi ratchet. prowl would greet you but he's half asleep and hasn't noticed you.* FakeProwl: ((he's not leaning on him but he's next to him.)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *What's Rodimus want with one of Ravage's bowls? ItsyBitsySpyers: ((and ready when y'all are)) Rodimus: Shiiiit my music Ratchet: *that's fine ratchet has noticed Prowl and he's going to sit with him* Shockbox: (( read that as 'bowels' and let me tell you i'm glad i misread. )) Jitterbun: *Siddles up to his non-friend but lowlevel associate known as PROWL* Windchill: (( Trying the whole making coffee thing again brb, but feel free to start in my absence I've seen this A Million Times. )) Whirl: *he's gonna rearrange himself and nod at Rumble* Feel free to make use of my footrest. It's simply the best. *e's gonna end up like... lying sideways on the couch. There's enough room in the curve of- ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave is suddenly feeling very surrounded...* Whirl: -his waist for Rumble to be able to remain seated on the couch* Rodimus: *going to show it to laserbeak* You guys use these too or just normal cubes and straws? Rodimus: *its prolly larger its just idw ravage's bowl xD* Whirl: After this song, we're starting. Jitterbun: Wonderful! *Will take the time to roll, strech and crack his joints* Whirl: Also, I can't help but notice how absolutely itty bitty you are, Jitter. It's adorable. FakeProwl: *suddenly someone else? turns on optic to look. oh!* Ratchet. It's been a while. Shockbox: *on the side opposite of frenzy is the couch's armrest. he may start to lean heavily on this as the movie proceeds.* FakeProwl: *there is also a Stranger in the vicinity. will ignore, because he's a Stranger.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble decides to take Whirl's advice and try resting on Whirl and Windchill at the same time.* Jitterbun: *May tumblr over himself, as Whirl calls out his petrorabbit form.* Jitterbun: W-well. Its temporary. Shade stuff. ItsyBitsySpyers: *This mostly ends in his upper back on Whirl's side and his ankles on Windchill and everything else CAREFULLY BALANCED IN MIDAIR* Whirl: *is quite content to be Rumble's Everything Except Foot rest* Whirl: *he won't let you fall, mech* Jitterbun: Now if ya don't mind- start the flick Whirl! Whirl: All right! Let's do it. ItsyBitsySpyers: {{Bird not needing straw, Bird got tube! You give, you give. Bird drinks, yes.}} Whirl: HEY. No bossin around the Culture Club presidents. Windchill: *Seems he's pulling double duty tonight. He's okay with this.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ravage offers Ratchet a blink from down by Soundwave's pedes, but is too lazy to move much.* Jitterbun: *Too late. He's bounding over to find a chair to sit under.* Rodimus: *grins* Sweet now I know what to load up on! *just starts making snack choices he is hella hungry* Ratchet: Mhmm. Evenin', Prowl. Jitterbun: *Don't mind him Stranger. Just making himself comfortable. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy nudges Shockwave with an elbow and 'whispers'* Whirl: I feel ya. Same thing happens to me. Feel free to call me adorable if *I* ever get changed into a petrorabbit. But, seeing as I was a bird, I figure I've done my time. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\YOU LIKE DINOSAURS? MOSTA YOU GUYS LIKE DINOSAURS...\\ Windchill: Dinosaurs are cool. Windchill: For a bunch of DEAD GUYS. Whirl: *optic expands a bit; this music is already arrestingly good* Rodimus: Ooooooooooooooh we seen this already..... Whirl: I' Whirl: ve never seen it. Shockbox: *He stares at Frenzy for a second.* I have never heard of these 'Dinosaurs' before. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy grins such a grin.* \\BOUTTA.\\ Whirl: These are dinosaurs. *nods* Jitterbun: *Peeks out muzzle from under somelucky mechs chair* Earth native species- extenict one, but one of 'em. Whirl: ...you want a safe seat, Jitter? Shockbox: ....So they are non-fictional? Whirl: You can come up here. I'm the host. I'll look after ya Rodimus: These are Windchill: *He hasn't seen this film. HE'S READY.* Windchill: *He's not ready.* Ratchet: Pfft. The heck do you think we built the Dinobots off of? Windchill: *Gdi always with eggs.* Windchill: *Somehow, he thinks eggs hatching isn't so cute and pristine.* FakeProwl: *eggs. immediately thinks of tarantulas.* Shockbox: *He's sort of very early in his timeline. Dinobots won't be created in a few weeks in his time.* Whirl: *aww, look at that one. FIGHTING ALREADY*

Missed some. only a little bit, i think.

starscream: Or it might just be because they are dumb Whirl: Or, y'know, this is a movie and it's all made up. Whirl: Or something. Jitterbun: Organics- they're really amazin' and interestin'. So many different ways they form. Shockbox: To what extent is this movie a work of fiction? Jitterbun: ...but they'realso pretty gross. Whirl: A lot. *HUGELY UNHELPFUL* Windchill: Really convenient earthquake timing, there. starscream: Then why are we watching it Whirl: ((man it must have been so sad for his grandparents to hear their daughter died so far away from them ;u; )) starscream: If it is mostly fiction Whirl: Because it's entertaining. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[From what he understands, dinosaurs were incapable of this form of speech. The creatures are representative of actual species and this event reflects certain circumstances-- ItsyBitsySpyers: believed to surround their extinction.]] Whirl: This is gonna blow your mind, Starscream--but most movies? Are fiction. Whirl: Amazing, I know. Ratchet: We're watching it 'cause I said we would. Windchill: What is this. starscream: I am aware of that, but why are we watching fictional ones Shockbox: Understood. Whirl: Because that's what one of our members chose. Ratchet: *hard glaring at dissenters* FakeProwl: Do we know for certain that dinosaurs were incapable of speech? The Autobos didn't have any agents on Earth at the time. Whirl: Also: they're entertaining. Windchill: *Covers his face.* FakeProwl: I mean, they undoubtedly didn't speak English. But did they not speak at all? Rodimus: *yawns and shoves some more snacks in mouth* Windchill: *Why is he watching this.* starscream: I'm amazed any organics can speak Whirl: I mean, if YOU can manage it, then why can't a bunch of walking meat do it? FakeProwl: *snorts* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[His Shockwave did not report speech as it is commonly understood. That does not mean there was no communication.]] starscream: Shut up ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Body language, scent, territory markers, specific calls...]] Whirl: Nah, I don't think I will. This is, after all, MY culture club. Whirl: Now, I wanna enjoy the movie, so pipe down. Whirl: ...well, okay. OUR Cultue Club. *gestures to co-founder Prowl* ItsyBitsySpyers: {{Little Swoops!}} FakeProwl: *nods grandly* Windchill: *It doesn't sound diabolically tragic anymore, so he's opened his eyes again.* Jitterbun: *Chill rabbit is enjoying the idle crosstalk. Its comforting noise.* Windchill: What is that blue thing? Whirl: *okay now. even whirl is kind of touched by that* ItsyBitsySpyers: *She tugs Rodimus' shoulders with a feeler. Look, organic versions of her missing minion.* Windchill: Besides generous, I mean. Ratchet: *flops across Prowl to peer down at Ravage* Whirl: *the little flying squirt who fought so hard for that cherry giving it to the sad guy* Whirl: *of course, his lack of a face makes it very easy to hide that* Shockbox: Can I at least trust the physical representations of these creatures in this movie to be accurate? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ravage blinks in confusion and tries to bop Ratchet with a paw.* Rodimus: *was spaced out* Eh what? Ratchet: *and dangles a string of tinsel over the edge of the couch* ItsyBitsySpyers: {{It little Swoops. Rod bot did not see?}} Ratchet: You got that spicy stuff? Whirl: I dunno. Some kinda.... blue thing? ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Somewhat accurate.]] Windchill: It looked like a blue potato. That's what I'm calling it. Rodimus: It that what those were? *stupid grin* Rodimus: A leaf matrix Whirl: They really nailed this soundtrack. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ravage's optics brighten like three thousand percent. He snaps at the tinsel.* Ratchet: *pulls it back* Rodimus: *snickers* Shockbox: *Will have to look more extensively into these creatures later.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *GROWLS* Ratchet: Uh-uh. You already got some. ItsyBitsySpyers: *SWIPE GIVE IT TO HIM* FakeProwl: ((why does he keep not eating his leaves. god.)) starscream: Brilliant Jitterbun: *An ear perks up twoards the bargoning mechs* Ratchet: There was a deal. Tinsel for spicy stuff. starscream: What a genius ItsyBitsySpyers: //Poor li'l fragger.// Whirl: Yeah. ItsyBitsySpyers: //It ain't a good time gettin' separated.// Whirl: *spares Rumble a comforting nudge* Shockbox: (( how old is he supposed to be at this point? to not be able to tell a shadow from a real dinosaur.)) Whirl: *he, of course, does not know exactly how Rumble feels, but he will sympathize as much as he can* Windchill: *Crosses his arms.* Whirl: She's my favorite. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ravage's audial dishes flatten out, but he shakes out a little red cube. Spicy stuff. Give him the tinsel.* Windchill: Look at her tail. Windchill: It points straight up! ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble nudges Whirl back. He ain't sad. It's just moody in here tonight. What're you comfortin' him for.* Ratchet: *is THAT all. that little cube.* Whirl: *because you're his friend daingert* Windchill: *He might be a little jealous, as he does not have a tail to signify when he is having an attitude.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *You only have one tinsel strand. What do you expect?* Ratchet: I know Sludge already brought you a delivery. Rodimus: *this soon to be exstint dinos seems alot like Cybertron pre war -.-* starscream: ((People can recognise themself in a mirror at 6 months, I assume something like that)) Windchill: Rude... ItsyBitsySpyers: *Doesn't it though?* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ravage grumbles and shakes loose another small cube. He doesn't jam his subspace as full of fuel as the others. He can... get his on the run, as it were.* Shockbox: (( hm. )) Ratchet: *two cubes is acceptable. here's ur tinsel, kitty cat.* Jitterbun: ((Lol little parasite relationship. <3)) Windchill: A cretin appears. Whirl: *theatric gasp* Whirl: Windchill... it's you. Shockbox: (( so much brain damage in this movie. )) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ravage gobbles up the strand and promptly drags himself along the couch bottom with his claws. On his side.* Windchill: WHAT. Whirl: It's you. Windchill: How is THAT. *He points at the screen.* Windchill: ME?! Jitterbun: *Flips back up* That was- I thought the flora was gonna attack 'em. Whirl: *starts SNICKERING MADLY AT THAT LAUGH* Jitterbun: ... Windchill: Besides the coattails. Whirl: The wing shape. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[...That looks like most flight lessons he's seen.]] Windchill: Well... FakeProwl: ... Falling? Rodimus: *hands LB the last of his snacks* Windchill: Okay. I can almost see where you got that idea. Jitterbun: This is interestin' behavior. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Nom nom nom! She'll hum Rodimus a little thank-you song.* Windchill: But I don't have a face like that at all. starscream: See? Stupid. Whirl: Pfft. It's hilarious that some fliers needed FLIGHT LESSONS. *preens* starscream: I told you organics are dumb ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Not every flight model comes out of the well perfectly coordinated.]] FakeProwl: ((if she'd kept going she could've blinded him.)) Whirl: I know. Poor things. Shockbox: (( spooky eye was spooky. )) Ratchet: [[ oh my god sarah you had the perfect opportunity to stab it the *** in the eye what'd you stop for ]] Jitterbun: ((FEAR)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Whirl don't make him come over there* Whirl: *preens more* Windchill: *Never mind. He might be more again to the winged cretin than he originally estimated.* Windchill: *akin wow Whirl: Pfft. Well. This guy isn't gonna grow up to be Chatterbox. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble giggles. Carrier.* Jitterbun: *Stares down the quirky flier, and then windchill. Yeah he sees the resemblence.* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «How did you learn?» Windchill: *SNORTS* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave shakes his helm at the screen. This feels like life with his unit sometimes.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Glances at Prowl* Whirl: *but yes. He took to the air like a duck to water. But, he wasn't quite as graceful... on the ground... but nobody needs to know that* Whirl: *spastic baby emu whirl* FakeProwl: *glances back. what.* Ratchet: *watches Ravage for a bit with a little smile, then quietly presents to Soundwave A Large Amount of silver and gold tinsel. Christmas and New Year's are past, the time for undecorating has come.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Nothing, he's just thinking of how to explain it.* starscream: Do they think there is only one? Jitterbun: Speaking like there's only one of 'em. I guess they really are young. starscream: They have family and others of their own kind, why wouldn't the sharptooth? Whirl: *she's such a little theatric ***. The best* ItsyBitsySpyers: //She tells stories like Starscream.// Windchill: *Very entertaining.* Whirl: PFFT. FakeProwl: *snorts* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave is temporarily distracted by the tinsel. He'll stuff that in his subspace before Ravage can make his way back around to the front of the couch and get it.* starscream: Excuse me? I don't talk like that ItsyBitsySpyers: *He's... not actually sure where Ravage is right now. Hmm.* FakeProwl: *the best part of tonight has been the constant Starscream disses.* Jitterbun: ((The late egg)) Rodimus: Laserbeak Ima bounce, mech now pearch time for you~ ItsyBitsySpyers: [[He will see you are brought more fuel next time.]] Ratchet: @Soundwave ::Don't let him forget he owes me for that.:: Shockbox: (( pfff, spike. )) Ratchet: Heh. Good. ItsyBitsySpyers: {{Aww... okaaaaaay. You come back soon, being more perching.}} Windchill: He's just...eating. Windchill: *Frowns.* Rodimus: *gets up to wander back off* Rodimus: *he isnt at all intersted watching this again* Whirl: Seeya, Rodders. Ratchet: *and now Ratchet will hop off the couch to collect his two cubes.* Jitterbun: Wow- they're lucky they didn't get crushed then! Whirl: That is so. Totally. You. Whirl: *nudges Windchill* Windchill: What. Windchill: I spaced out what happened. Whirl: He was being hugely dramatic. Chromedome: hullo Windchill: Oh. Windchill: Then yeah. Whirl: Like you. Windchill: You got me. Whirl: *IMMEDIATELY TWISTS HIS GHELM AROUND and stares intensely at Chromedome* YOU. FakeProwl: *IMMEDIATELY TENSES UP* Chromedome: oh dang I love this movie Whirl: Hey, Windchill: My teeth don't chatter like that though, unless I WANT them to. Windchill: *Turns to regard the New Guy.* Jitterbun: ((Welcome CD) Whirl: *intense. Stare* Welcome to Culture Club. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rodimus is gone. Chromedome is here. Soundwave interrupts his explanation in progress to ping him, worried* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ping Prowl, that is.* Rodimus: ((I am still here lol FakeProwl: It was good to see you, Ratchet. I'm afraid I have to leave early tonight. Ratchet: ... oh. ItsyBitsySpyers: ((i meant rodimus had IC wandered off the room, lol)) Ratchet: Well... have a good night, then! FakeProwl: *farewell ping to Soundwave.* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «Let me know if he leaves.» ItsyBitsySpyers: *...Farewell ping/acknowledgment ping.* Whirl: *returns his attention to the film* FakeProwl: *avatar deactivates. prowl is Gone.* Whirl: AGAIN with this soundtrack. Gorgeous. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Well then. He should act like he doesn't know this bot.* Jitterbun: *...and then Jitter starts, staring at where Prowl had been* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Greetings, newcomer.]] Whirl: *oh dangit sop movie, with the sad tiny baby vulnerable little dinosaur* Jitterbun: Wait- he's been a hologram? ItsyBitsySpyers: [[...Yes?]] Whirl: Oh, yeah. Needles, this is Culcutre Club. Culture Club, this is Needles. Or, as he Whirl: s more commonly known, Chromedome. Whirl: He' Chromedome: Dont call me tHAT Whirl: Fine, fine. Ratchet: [[ >sees Needles >wonders why Whirl is introducing Slendy ]] Windchill: *Waves. That's all the greeting you get from him, consider yourself fortunate, not-Needles.* Whirl: ((that cuttof "he's" was meant to explain prowl so I'll elt slendy do it)) Trepan: Organic Predacons? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Chromedome AND Trepan. Oh dear.* Jitterbun: *Disgruntled by his revelation, and being unintentionlly out of the loop, the petrorabbit begins to groom himself* Whirl: *SWIVELS HIS HELM DRAMATICALLY AROUND AGAIN TO STAAARE AT TREPAN* HEY. You. Trepan: OnO Jitterbun: *All these latecomers* Trepan: "Heello Chromedome: :) Whirl: Welcome to Culture Club Trepan: Thank you ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Organic Dinobots.]] Whirl: They're diosaurs, by the way. *returns attention to the film* Trepan: I brought rust sticks and jelly jets as my contribution to the movie FakeProwl: ((what a pretty spider web)) Jitterbun: *Pawing muzzle and ears* Shockbox: *acknowledging the presence of newcomers* Chromedome: *hungrily motions at the rust sticks* Ratchet: *waves to both Cgromedome and Trepan* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ravage pops his helm over the back of the couch and watches Jitterbox. Prey... no. No not prey don't eat bots in public. Stay. Stay here, claw the couch.* Whirl: *nods* Those of you with mouths, tuck in. Windchill: I refuse. ItsyBitsySpyers: Jitterbun* Windchill: Because... Windchill: I'm a rebel. Windchill: *He has the biggest mouth of all, too.* Whirl: *looking's free, Ravage; if you make a move Whirl is gonna Get Ya* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Chromedome and... who might the other one be?]] Whirl: Some kinda masseuse. Trepan: Suit yourself" Handing them over to Chromedome Trepan: "Yes, Whirl. A 'Masseuse'" Chromedome: Yessss~ Jitterbun: *Calmer now and blissfully unware of the new attention, Jitter settles back down and apraises the group once more* Whirl: *I mean, that's all that Whirl knows him as* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[And do you have a designation, masseuse?]] Trepan: " 'Nimbus'" Jitterbun: a Masseuse? You had those on Cybertron? That's a profession? FakeProwl: ((spike is a treasure)) ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Thank you.]] Whirl: Before the war, yeah. He works off a space station though. Jitterbun: Chromedom' and Nimbus- and they're both Massuses. Jitterbun: Sounds like a popular thing, then. Whirl: Nah, Chromedome's an ex-mnemosurgeon. Trepan: Yes, aren't we Chromedome" Whirl: Full-time junxy now. *snickers* Chromedome: Dont drag me into this Trepan Trepan: :P Whirl: ...*looks at Trepan* You know each other? ..."Trepan?" ItsyBitsySpyers: *Oh, this is delightful.* Trepan: "Thank you, Chromedome" FakeProwl: ((clearly tis isn't lava, it's glowing strawberry jam.)) Windchill: *He prefers the on-screen drama to whatever interpersonal drama you've all conjured up, thanks.* ItsyBitsySpyers: ((the blood of berrycron)) Whirl: *also returns his attention to the--what the heck is that* Windchill: *It's a heffalump* starscream: Well that's different ItsyBitsySpyers: \\BOY, SHE YELLS A LOT.\\ Trepan: Sitting nice and quiet for Whirl to forget Windchill: *You can tell by the trunk* Jitterbun: Littelfoot suddenly got strong. Whirl: *ohoho he is npt forgetting THAT* Shockbox: Reminds me of someone I know. Trepan: is Sara Prowl? Shockbox: *Looking directly at frenzy for but a moment.* ItsyBitsySpyers: \\YEAH? MUS' BE REAL TOUGH BEIN' AROUND 'EM.\\ Whirl: Nah, she's not a damn thing like him. ItsyBitsySpyers: *He's ignoring the glance. Frenzy knows he's loud. He can't help it. She can.* Trepan: Murdersaurs)) Whirl: *HE'S PLANNING TO KILL HIM. WAT A LITTLE CHAMP* Jitterbun: ((I never understood that formation at the top)) Shockbox: *Just milking the irony a bit.* Jitterbun: ((Like 'is it a castle)) Jitterbun: ((Is it a cave)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Littlefoot seems more Prowl-ish right there than Cera ever does.* Whirl: *NOW he's rapt, watching these little baby diosaurs plot to kill this huge horrible creature* FakeProwl: *yknow what prowl might be gone but he still has comm access* starscream: They're going to get eaten Whirl: Hey, but what a way to go--avenging the death of his mother! ItsyBitsySpyers: *Hey, Soundwave's not thinking of it as a bad thing.* Whirl: Might as well give it a shot. Windchill: *Tries not to laugh at the whistling, snorts instead.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Also he didn't say that out loud.* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «Do I get to hear about your flight lessons, or did I give up that right?» Jitterbun: Thats- really foolish. starscream: Is he even sure it's the same one? Jitterbun: Its a wothless, silly thing ta do. FakeProwl: ((no no, that wasn't a reply, it was an introduction to a comm.)) Whirl: Yeah, it Whirl: 's got the one eye. ItsyBitsySpyers: ((ohhh)) Whirl: Or, wait. So I thought. Shockbox: (( has the stream started to lag a little bit for anybody else?)) FakeProwl: ((it's ok here)) ItsyBitsySpyers: //This here's how come ya don't underestimaim us little fraggers.// Chromedome: [ nah :v ] Whirl: ((sorry Shockwave :<)) starscream: ((Mine's okay)) Whirl: It was a good death. ItsyBitsySpyers: {{Brave birdsaur.}} Jitterbun: ...see, thats what risky things like that'll do Whirl: That's how I'd wanna go. Locked n mortal combat with something thousands of time my size. Jitterbun: Coulda just kep on their way, made it ba- Jitterbun: ... Jitterbun: Well, Sometimes ya get lucky. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Will explain now. Whirl: It was worth a shot, I say. Whirl: *the lot of them have endeared themselves to Whirl with their homicidal cmpaign* ItsyBitsySpyers: \\DAMN STRAIGHT\\ Raises his handful of snack to Whirl Jitterbun: ((okay thats cute but how did little even get up there) Trepan: her ghost has been avenged )) Windchill: *He's just glad that unlike the creature he's being compared to, he's too big to be manhandled like that by most people.* Jitterbun: (('give me the blood of the sharptooth'00 Rodimus: ((little foot is rodimus Whirl: ((to Whirl?)) Chromedome: [ is Chromedome: [ wow ok meant is mother optimus to rodimus Whirl: ((oh, wait, yes)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((like a hear hear snif, about dying locked in combat etc)) Whirl: *nods to him in return* Shockwave II changed their nickname to Shockwave. Rodimus: ((lol i was thinking the matrix was his mom Shockwave: (( seeing as alder isn't here. )) Windchill: I just noticed. Windchill: Spike has the purple eyes of evil. FakeProwl: ((I like how ducky's family just immediately adopts spike. no questions asked.)) Whirl: ((best family ;u;/ )) Chromedome: *sniffles Jitterbun: ((yes. they're so happy to thave their ducky back and are happy to welcome her friend)) Whirl: That was pretty damn good, Ratchet, Whirl: *definitely liked it more than he thought he would* Trepan: *quickly escapes before Whirl asks questions* Jitterbun: (i killed a sharptooth at 6months old) Ratchet: Hehehe. The Dinobots love it. Jitterbun: (Thats quite the accomplishment)) Whirl: *oh, as if he'd disrupt his beloved Culture Club to do that. He can ask you LATER* Ratchet: ... except Grimlock. He's not a fan. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Many renowned energon seekers joined Decepticons. Private lessons given; Megatron ordered. This, same time Soundwave began front line departure, accepted more... Whirl: PFFT, HAHA! Whirl: I can see wy. ItsyBitsySpyers: *What was a good description?* Shockwave: *This ending has been the most saccharine out of anything he has viewed during these gatherings.* Shockwave: *...considering that he's been mostly watching horror flicks, that isn't saying much.* Windchill: Hmph. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): More... faction supervision, coordination duties? Whirl: All right! Let's see...hm. I guess I could ask Rodders to pick the next on. Whirl: If he doesn't, I can always ask our co-founder. Jitterbun: Thanks for the seat, Whirl. *Nudges him amiably before hopping off and bounding lightly across the room* starscream: ((I would suggest not googling the VAs)) ItsyBitsySpyers: \\KINDA MUSHY, BUT I GUESS THEM SHARPTOOTH FIGHTS WAS GOOD.\\ Windchill: *Shifts, crossing his legs just enough to disturb Whirl's feet A LITTLE* Whirl: No prob, Jitter. *you might be a freaky Velocitronian pervert, but you're basically a friend at this point* Whirl: Yeah! Gotta hand it to those babies. They did good for themselves. Jitterbun: ((Yeah SS, I think many know about poor Judith Barsi)) Whirl: *shifts his feet in retaliation* Whirl: ((ye... me too. I shant't bring it up here(( Shockwave: *Seems a bit distant. Thinking dinobot-themed thoughts.* Windchill: ((LEt's not. )) Windchill: *Bounces his leg. Let's go, bro.* starscream: ((that's what I'm talking about, was trying to warn anyone who didn't know)) ItsyBitsySpyers: //Woop!// Rumble was balancing on Windchill, down to the floor he goes. Rodimus: ((First Blood FakeProwl: *ping. faction supervision/coordination makes perfect sense to him.* Rodimus: ((thats what rodimus would pick Ratchet: [[ i literally never look up voice actors but now you mentioned it so i have to ]] Windchill: Oops. Whirl: *SIGHS theatrically and lofts his feet up off Windchill* You may go. As I recall, you've got your own egg to look after. Shockwave: (( i've seen tumblr posts about it. tragic. )) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Oh, good. He wasn't sure about that.* Whirl: Also, have you got to the doc YET Whirl: *? Whirl: *HE WILL CATCH YOU RUMBLE* ItsyBitsySpyers: *THANK* Whirl: *NYOOM DAD REFLEXES ACTIVATE* Jitterbun: *Is more amazed he made it through the film without chewing a dent into the wreckers armor* Windchill: *He was going to lean forward to check on Rumble, whom he just practically MURDERED, but groans and leans back in his seat instead. That's all the answer you're going to get, Whirl.* Whirl: *you have been firmly but gently clamped in a claw. He sets Rumble down on the couch proper* Whirl: Dammit, Windchill. Am I gonna hafta force you to go to one of OURS? Whirl: Do it before you have to deal with a wriggler! Whirl: Cos then you'll have NO time. Rodimus: ((Rambo: First Blood thats rodimus's pick Windchill: Don't tell me what to do! Rodimus: ((...I dont tihnk i can get more IC than that xD Whirl: ((SO IT SHALL BE DONE)) Whirl: I will absolutely tell you what to do. Windchill: Sorry, little dude. *@ Rumble, he's really bad at names.* I forgot you were sitting on me. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Most early lessons factual. Introduction data. Part coordination, readouts, other. Later, hovering. Slow, low flights. Whirl: I can come and Get You anytime, so think about THAT and try to sleep easy. Windchill: So? You think you can threaten me, is that it? Jitterbun: *Sits a healthy distance away as he observse the potential roughhousing.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble shakes his helm and gets comfy where he's been deposited* ItsyBitsySpyers: //'S cool. I ain't dyin' from no fall like that.// ItsyBitsySpyers: *Also, Soundwave would not be surprised to hear the Dinobot thoughts if he was allowed to skim and catch them* Whirl: Oh, no, Of course not. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «You can hover? Huh.» Windchill: *Squints.* Whirl: I KNOW I can threaten you. And don't think that I am not a big enougn mech to put aside my differences, swallow my HEALTHY volumes of distaste, brace myself... Whirl: and tell... HIM. Whirl: Your BIG SQUEEZE. Whirl: Your HONEY BUNCHES OF OATS. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave passes over the short clip from the energon harvester episode where he's doing exactly that over the museum* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Prowl's forgotten already?* Whirl: ((he can hover and he has a Mighty Fine pivot Prowl, you should see it sometime)) FakeProwl: *l o o k. 90% of his attention during that episode was zeroed in on the hot doctor with the seatbelts.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *...Forgivable.* Whirl: ((PROWL. PIVOT.)) Whirl: ((LOOK AT YOUR BOYTOY WHEN HE PIVOTS DAMMIT)) Jitterbun: *...Jitter's come to realize he's unintersted in the direction of public conversation, and so makes a bee line of hops for the snack table, and jumps back on top of it* Shockwave: *Welp. Movie's over. Time to shove three handfuls of energon from the snacktable into his subspace.* Shockwave: *It's starting to become tradition to do this.* Jitterbun: ((Those seatbelts will buckle u in prowl)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Such a nice tradition to develop, isn't it?* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Eating regularly and all.* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «... Right. It didn't fully register at the time. You don't outwardly appear to have mechanisms to allow hovering.* FakeProwl: **» Shockwave: *it's going to take a lot more work if you ever want to get him sleeping regularly too.* Windchill: Tell him what, eh? ItsyBitsySpyers: *All things in time, if time wishes for it to be so* Whirl: *whirl has no objections to this foreign Shockwave stuffing his face* FakeProwl: ((excuse u those seatbelts are clearly perfectly positioned to act as a leash, prowl ain't the one that's gonna be restrained with them.)) Whirl: *as long as it doesnt turn out he ever hurts, hinders, or otherwise inconveniences any of whrl's pals* Jitterbun: *Wiggles an ear to Shockwave as he passes the snackbar* Whirl: That you're falling the hell apart, and that you need to see a doctor but you won't. I bet HE can make you. Whirl: And not just because he's STUPIDLY HUGE. Chromedome: [ seatbelts are for SAFETY you have been misinformed ] Jitterbun: *Acknowling your prenese, but not looking up from the bowl he's nocked over and started grazing on* FakeProwl: ((YOU HAVE NOT SEEN KNOCK OUT'S SEATBELTS)) ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Soundwave's outward appearance hides much. Where Prowl believes Soundwave's feelers kept...? Chromedome: [ thanks now I'm gonna have to look them up lmao ] ItsyBitsySpyers: ((ko's seatbelts are a precious thing)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((I CAN GET YOU A CLIP HOLD UP)) Windchill: *Crosses his arms, looking altogether cross.* Whirl: ((send it over I'LL SCREEN IT FOR YA)) FakeProwl: @Soundwave «A separate plane of existence.» Whirl: *stares, triumphant. Probably. It's hard to tell with his face* Windchill: That's not how it works. Chromedome: [ *nervoussweating.png ] Shockwave: *he almost wishes his antennae could wiggle back. sadly, that is not how his antennae function. he shows a mite of acknowledgement before stealing from the table.* Whirl: *you have made The Biggest Mistake. You befriended Whirl. He's gonna do everything to keep you in one piece, even if it means turning to people he dislikes* Whirl: You saying that just 1000% convinced me that it DOES. Whirl: I bet all he has to do is make a face. A SAD FACE. And you crumble. ItsyBitsySpyers: ((https://youtu.be/o_XG1IFyve0?t=1m24s)) Whirl: Because that's what happens when you're all TWITTERPATED. *nudges Windchill with his foot* I know your weakness now. Jitterbun: *Enjoy your treats, dear scientist. The temporary petrorabbit will bid you more socialization later. Once he's sated this instinctal urge* Windchill: *SNORTS.* ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Prowl more observant than most. (amused) Many modifications. All necessary to know. Windchill: That's only like...one weakness. Whirl: ((uh... HM. DOESN'T. WANNA DO SCREEN REGIONS...?)) Windchill: I have several. Shockwave: *Snacks scientifically.* Jitterbun: *...pauses his eating at the sound of music, and looks towards the screen.* Windchill: NOT TELLING YOU what the others are. Windchill: But that's still not how it works. Whirl: ((i dunno wtf xsplit is doin but ol)) FakeProwl: ((i like how my ls is apparently way behind)) starscream: ((dat face)) FakeProwl: ((because the audio only just started)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((this is an ooc thing btw)) Jitterbun: ....what even is this? Shockwave: (( oh, pff.)) FakeProwl: ((put it on slo-mo)) Jitterbun: Whirl- what's yoru facination with Doctor Knockou's neck? Whirl: (9THIS IS OOC)) Jitterbun: ((OH OKAY)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((LMFAO THIS MUSIC)) Shockwave: (( /christ/.)) Whirl: ((WHIRL IS NOT ATTRACTED TO KNOCK OUT0) FakeProwl: ((we're showing chromedome-mun Dem Belts)) Shockwave: (( don't tell me you're gonna pull out the careless whisper next.)) Jitterbun: ((THANK YOU FOR CLARIFICATION)) Jitterbun: (SSSHHHH)) FakeProwl: ((prowl is the one into Dem Belts)) Jitterbun: (THATS JITTERS FAVORITE SONG) Jitterbun: (Or on the top ten)) Jitterbun: (Just, pull and snap 'em. Whirl: I don;t need you to tell me, I'll figure em out in time. starscream: ((I never realised he had those until now -_-)) FakeProwl: ((exactly. grab 'em both in your hands and TUG.)) Chromedome: [ alskdjf ] Windchill: Pffft, then you'd better get crackin.' Shockwave: (( that is so weird. )) ItsyBitsySpyers: *But yes. He can indeed hover and pivot Very Nicely. He may not be the fastest in the air, but he knows what he's doing, and that's enough.* FakeProwl: ((i appreciate the loving pan, snif)) Jitterbun: (((Only if you keep zooming in on it it is)) Jitterbun: ((Also that mouse heart) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((i'm laughing so bad)) FakeProwl: ((this is, admittedly, not the most flattering angle)) Windchill: (( You need help. )) Jitterbun: taht half lidded gaze) Chromedome: [ do you think if you tug on them too hard the air bag goes off ] ItsyBitsySpyers: ((LMAO)) Jitterbun: ((NOT SEXY Whirl: ((NOT SEXY BUT COMEDY GOLD)) FakeProwl: ((what we see here is a direct stream of Prowl's brain when Knock Out is on screen.)) Shockwave: (( ...where are his airbags, in bipedal mode? )) Whirl: ((PUFF IM DYIN)) FakeProwl: ((boob)) starscream: ((I want to see what happens when a tfs airbags deploy now)) Shockwave: (( PFFF.)) Jitterbun: ((There is a comic Jitterbun: Of it happeing to Optimus Whirl: (lemme show you a similar situation but from whirl's perspective)) Shockwave: (( a /canon/ comic? )) FakeProwl: ((no no, fanart)) Shockwave: (( a shame.)) Windchill: (( GOD I remember this. )) Jitterbun: Damnit Gunface ItsyBitsySpyers: ((psst >> https://youtu.be/NG0ZId6Xiao?t=4m32s)) Shockwave: (( holy ***, i want a face that can turn into a gun. )) Chromedome: [ * shot through the heart plays in the bg ] FakeProwl: ((u kno u can play vids at like 1/4 speed on youtube.)) starscream: ((mmmm watcha say~)) FakeProwl: ((i feel like that would enhance all these clips)) Whirl: ((HAHHAA)) Whirl: ((OKAY MAYBE BUT EXPECT HIM TO ADMIT IT 0%)) FakeProwl: ((nice pivot)) FakeProwl: ((AND LOOK. IT'S THE SEXY DOCTOR AGAIN.)) Whirl: ((hgere we go. for prowl AND whirl's benefit)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((oh my god i'm crying)) Jitterbun: ((I'm happy)) Jitterbun: (SW does the thing)) FakeProwl: ((that's why prowl couldn't remember. like one second after that pivot, DOC KNOCK.)) Whirl: ((whirl never forgets a good pivot)) Chromedome: [ he looks like a slow turning ceiling fan ] Whirl: ((and especially not a gorgeous one)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((BOY)) FakeProwl: ((CEILING FAN)) Whirl: ((HAHAHA)) FakeProwl: ((g1 soundwave kept hidden by pretending to be a light post)) FakeProwl: ((this is how tfp soundwave kept hidden)) Whirl: All right, you losers/ Time to go. I gotta clean up. *waves a claw* FakeProwl: ((lurking on the ceiling)) Whirl: I'll let you know when I got Rodders's pick. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Very well.]] Chromedome: [ this was nice :) bye everyone ] ItsyBitsySpyers: ((bye)) Whirl: ((THANKS FOR COMIN ALL Whirl: AND THANKS FOR THE PICK RATCHET)) Jitterbun: //Thanks much. See everyone around! FakeProwl: ((YES THANKS FOR THE PICK sorry prowl vanished)) FakeProwl: ((... i think fabu's gone)) Shockwave: (( thank you for the stream! )) Windchill: *FINE, he'll just get up then.* FakeProwl: ((also thanks for streaming)) Windchill: ((Such a good movie... THANK. )) Jitterbun: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Cj87FzTWsAE8JVS.jpg Jitterbun: Optimus Prime Faceplant Whirl: Remember what I said Jitterbun: now I bid Adu Whirl: *points at. Severely* Whirl: And, seeya, Jitter. Good luck on the rabbit thing. Windchill: Don't tell me what to do. Jitterbun: Yeah yeah- it oughtta figure itself out soon. Jitterbun: *bounds away* Whirl: *he only does it cos he cares, Windchill. That's why he's gotten so unbearable* Windchill: *Y U NO UNDERSTADN* Whirl: *because he's him, tbh* Shockwave: *he's still here. stopped snacking a bit ago. swears he isn't taking more than a bowl with him.* Whirl: *also Windchill you're basically his best pal and one of, like, two people who genuinely seem to care about him, HE'S NOT GONNA LET YOU GO* Whirl: *SO DON'T DIE* Windchill: *And because someone won't talk about it tbh.* Whirl: *he's gonna hop up off the couch, careful not to dislodge Rumble, and get started tidying* Whirl: *very brisk tonight. he has THINGS to do* Windchill: Goodnight. Whirl: G'night, dipshi t. Whirl: *said affectionately* ItsyBitsySpyers: *They're going to get gathered up and flee. They've got tomorrow to prepare for and that means getting enough rest to field Questions.* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Farewell, Whirl, Windchill, Shockwave.]] Shockwave: Farewell. Windchill: *He is gone, goodbye.* Windchill: *Time to go stew somewhere else.* Windchill: *You are all safe now.* Whirl: Seeya, Chatterbox! Whirl: And you, too, Other Shockwave. Whirl: *srroy, you're Othe Shockwave forever, now* Shockwave: *He accepts that he wasn't the first shockwave in the friend group.* Shockwave: *And, well. he wasn't in any rush to leave, but being that it would have been just him and whirl otherwise, he figures he has better stuff to do.* Shockwave: *The movie might have inspired him, in a few ways.* Whirl: *Whirl isn't opposed to chatting with new folks, but he's distracetd tonight. He has............ a MISSION* Shockwave: (( heheh. looks like all our muses are busy then. seeya. )) Whirl: ((night y'all!))

#chat

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