#this is all in mind with how the dream white palace is just manifestation

[fly-sky-high-bug-games]

Well the poll got me thinking about White Palace in general

Do you think it was real at all?

Obviously some sort of structure was sitting in the Basin but was it really a palace? Was White Lady ever there? Was that where Pale King ever resided?

The station was hidden, the tram was new so it was obviously not a place for bugs to visit and if they did it was probably just the knights and royal retainers who stayed there

Maybe the structure was meant to look like a palace but in reality it was just where PK hid for his research? I can't not think about how close to the Abyss it is. The lighthouse. The presence of his creations, Kingsmolds and Wingsmolds, both within dream and outside of it

What if the palace was never really a palace?

#sky rambles #this is all in mind with how the dream white palace is just manifestation #and not how it looked like in reality #aside from the kingsmold wingsmold and royal retainers #i dont think it reflects realty outside of those

[glorious-sunset]

Reflections on Ep. 6 of LBFAD on rewatch

Arbiter Hall, Day 6: DongFang QingCang (DFQC) has discovered that the greenhouse flowers are connected to Xiao Lanhua’s (XLH) mood, thus, tending to her heart as well as her body are vital to her full recovery. As she waters her greenhouse that morning wearing the lavender gown he had created for her, he asks her what she likes and wants, that he would bring her anything within the three realms that she asked for. The only thing XLH can think of is that she wants her Da Qiang to be safe. Since their first night together, she had been in constant terror of him being discovered and executed, which had manifested as a terrifying nightmare. She offers to make his favourite food and fix the destiny leaf if he will turn himself in, thus sparing himself from execution for deserting. But as usual he just rolls his eyes.

DFQC needs the destiny leaf to be repaired, but XLH has not yet made a full recovery. To his surprise, he does not mind waiting another few days. Since XLH had discovered his sweet tooth on their second day together, she made pretty flower-shaped cakes for him every day in assorted flavours. He was, of course, used to the finest cuisine and pastries made by the best chefs across Cangyan Sea. But when he ate XLH’s flower cakes, she smiled and gazed at him fondly in a way nobody else ever had.

XLH was indeed very fond of Da Qiang, but never forgot that he was an escaped criminal who would one day be gone. She needed to pursue her dream to pass the fairies’ examination and work at Fountain Palace, so she told him that was the only other thing that she wanted. Sitting close to him, she felt comfortable enough to admit to him her secret crush on Changheng (CH). He looked away in annoyance as she praised CH but was gentle in his rebuke that CH did not deserve to be compared to the Moon Supreme. “There are a lot of beauties in the three realms” XLH told him earnestly. She still thought her heart belonged to CH, but wanted Da Qiang to be happy. With his looks, intellect and irresistible kindness, any woman would certainly be very lucky to have him.

“To benzuo, nobody in the three realms is as unique as Xiao Hua Yao” DFQC replied sourly. This little demon had cursed him and was the only one capable of repairing Lady Chidi’s destiny leaf. He had tried to lift the curse and fix the damned leaf himself without success. Yet, she was unique in other ways too. Unlike most celestials, she did not unthinkingly abide by the heavenly laws. She had not reported an escaped prisoner, and instead, had treated him with kindness.

XLH, caught off-guard by this seemingly adoring proclamation, tried not to lead him on. “The one I like is CH, not you,” she said as he looked hurt, “and I want CH to be by my side, not you!” As she leaves, DFQC considers what she says. XLH’s happiness and recovery are crucial to his goals, so perhaps he should give her what she wants…and pretend to be CH? CH is her dream lover, and he is now forced to consider what being a lover actually means. There are more than a few romance novels lying around Arbiter Hall, some raunchier than others…so this is why XLH hadn’t wanted to share his bed that first night. He wonders what it would be like to kiss her soft lips again…

Haishi: Dieyi has discovered the identity of the thief who stole Lady Chidi’s destiny leaf to be XLH! To avoid suspicion, Ronghao decides to kill her during the upcoming fairies’ examination and make it look like an accident.

Arbiter Hall, Day 7: XLH wakes naturally, still wearing her beloved lavender gown from Da Qiang, to find a grumpy CH seated close by her bedside peering at her intently. How long had he been there observing her and waiting for her to wake?! She can’t quite believe he came here “to be with her”, but when he states that “benzuo will stay by your side in this form from now on”, it all makes sense. A little relieved, she forces him to shed his disguise! The handsome CH in bland white robes morphs back into an infinitely more striking DFQC in bejewelled turquoise robes. He offers to tie up the real CH and bring him here if it will make XLH happy! :D Of course not! cries XLH, half afraid that he will actually do it. That would only put DFQC in danger (she believes) and protecting him is the most important thing to her.

Shuyu Forest: Supreme Liyuan finds his daughter Danyin overdoing her magic practice for the fairies’ examination, much to his displeasure. He has indulged her too much since the loss of his wife and other daughter. The foolish girl won’t give up her naïve fantasy that she can be with CH! He is terrified that she will follow in his footsteps and pursue a doomed relationship. If he himself hadn’t pursued his wife, who had been from the Moon Tribe and thus forbidden to him, she wouldn’t have ended up trying to flee from celestial soldiers while in the excruciating throes of childbirth. His heart ached when he thought of the suffering she had gone through due his selfish pursuit of her. He had no idea whether she was even alive, or what had become of their other daughter.

Arbiter Hall, Day 9: Over the past few days, DFQC had spent hours every day training XLH to improve her powers for the fairies' examination. But her progress has been slow. As she leaves after a training session, he complains to Shangque (SQ) that it is difficult to improve her cultivation. He never expected taking care of a plant would be more difficult than conquering the whole world! But surely there is no challenge that he cannot surmount? He will do whatever it takes to make XLH the happiest woman in the world! To aid her recovery (and since he shares her emotions, to make himself the happiest man in the world!) :D He has decided to be present at the exam to help her win first place.

Danyin arrives. XLH, concerned for DFQC’s safety, makes him conceal himself during her visit. Danyin is widely regarded as the most beautiful fairy in all of Shuiyuntian, and is intelligent and powerful, but DFQC only views her as a threat to his Xiao Hua Yao. He is immune to the charms of any woman apart from XLH, including the beautiful Xie Wanqing and Danyin. He loves XLH only because she loves him so much.

Danyin demands her destiny leaf to see if she can enter Fountain Palace (and have a future with CH). Be careful what you wish for Danyin! Danyin’s actions of damaging the Destiny tree open the Tianji mirror for her. To her shock, she sees XLH marrying her prince, CH, not once, but twice! She is unable to reconcile these visions with the timid and powerless cry-baby before her, and shoves XLH down violently. Once she has stormed off, DFQC gently helps XLH to her feet and smirks at the thought of being able to kill Danyin for her. But she quickly makes clear her preference for non-violence.

DFQC is confused – surely eliminating any potential threat would be the easiest option? He is angered by Danyin’s treatment of Xiao Hua Yao and doesn’t want to see a repeat of it at the exam tomorrow. Choosing non-violence is far more difficult and unnatural for him, but if it is what makes her happy, it is what he must do. From here on, he chooses to adhere to her wishes for non-violence even in situations where it would definitely be in the interests of the Moon Tribe to choose violence. As early as eps. 8 and 9, he places his love for XLH far higher among his values and priorities than his responsibilities towards the Moon Tribe, when he chooses not to kill CH and not to kill the High Council of Shuiyuntian in these respective episodes.

Yujing, Day 10: XLH arrives for the fairies’ examination wearing the lavender gown DFQC created for good luck (minus a frilly neckline overlay). She hears rumours that CH has been in seclusion making an Immortal Pill to help a certain fairy with her examination. Some details are wrong, such as how long he was in seclusion and which fairy it was (they all think it was Danyin – did she spread these rumours herself?). Danyin arrives and regards XLH appraisingly. She has been thinking about it and wonders whether, somehow, XLH is the Goddess of Xishan who went missing and is actually CH’s fiancée? (she asks her father about this possibility in ep. 12).

Ronghao arrives late after setting up his assassination attempt on XLH and correctly guesses that CH’s secret crush is among the assembled fairies. Yunzhong carefully eavesdrops on their every exchange. He is not unsympathetic to CH’s plight. As a member of the ruling family, Yunzhong himself had to sacrifice the love of his life to fulfil his responsibilities. That is why he allowed CH to keep the handkerchief of his love as a memento, on the strict understanding that CH’s duties must always come first. CH’s engagement to the Goddess is vital to protecting the three realms from the ultimate evil Taisui, who if released, would consume everything in its terrifying wake.

As CH hands out Demon Pills, he is careful to avoid Danyin’s gaze, to her disappointment. For XLH, however, he tries to seek out her gaze, softly whispering “be careful”. As the judges watch the examination in Shuyu Forest through the Kuitian mirror, he is constantly worried for her safety and wishes to rush to her aid when a private fight breaks out, and when they see a giant Yingzhao possessed by the evil qi. As per usual, CH is unable to do these things, but XLH’s dark knight, DFQC, always appears by her side to protect her.

XLH has spent the last few days reading about the characteristics of various demons, and their strengths and weaknesses. She recognises that the Yingzhao which SQ placed in her path likes to eat the plant Hounds tongue, which she has carefully brought along. Yingzhao, appreciating her kindness and recognising the rare purity of her spirit, indicates that she should use her Demon Pill on him. He growls at the other fairies, however, when they show up to bully XLH. An invisible DFQC, showing amazing restraint, blasts the fairies away without singeing a single hair on their heads with his hellfire (he is not so gentle with Dieyi in ep. 7). XLH believes this feeble blast came from her and can’t believe how strong she has become! :D

DFQC leaves to investigate the evil qi he has sensed, asking SQ to guard XLH with his life. While he is away, the gentle Yingzhao becomes possessed by the evil qi, turning into a gigantic raging overpowered monster! SQ knocks Yingzhao away from XLH, but he then terrorises the other fairies. The kind and caring XLH cannot leave them in the interests of her own safety! She saves Danyin, and the fairies team up to bind Yingzhao with their powers. They can’t contain him for long, and XLH takes charge. Demonstrating natural leadership skills, she directs the fairies into a hollow tree, persuades them to give her their Demon Pills, and uses herself as a decoy to lure Yingzhao away! She cuts her wrist to attract Yingzhao’s attention, alerting DFQC, who suffers the same injury through the one-heart curse.

Full credit to @justarabidlittleyingzhao for Yunzhong's backstory headcanon!

Here is a link to my episode 7 review (contains spoilers). All of my LBFAD articles and episode reviews can be viewed with the tag #lbfad reflections (hyperlinked) and the table of contents to these is here.

#love between fairy and devil #lbfad #lbfd #cang lan jue #canglan jue #clj #dongfang qingcang #dfqc #xiao lanhua #xlh #cdrama #lbfad meta #cdramasource #asiandramasource #asiandramanet #dylan wang #wang hedi #yu shuxin #esther yu #lbfad reflections

[bluegekk0]

I know this is often seen as a Meme in the HK-Community but this is a serious question! Why all the Buzzsaws in the White-Palace? I assume they were ment as extra Security but were they they already before FPK transported the whole Palace into a DreamRealm or did they appear afterwards?

And how are your thoughts on the Path of Pain inside of the White Palace? I personally see it as a deep rooted Secret that FPK tried to lock away for nobody to see (which is why it's so hard to reach the End of it to actually see the Memory)

Yeah this is definitely a meme I actively dislike, I hate when fandoms strip characters of their complexity and nuance, and turn them into caricatures. The whole meme of PK being a buzzsaw obsessed child murderer is so irritating to me because of how much it dumbs him down and misrepresents what his actions actually were. Murder implies malicious intent, not the last resort of a desperate man who then despised himself for it so much that he gave up on everything. And yet, people still happily portray him as someone who gleefully throws his babies down a pit. It annoys me so much I never talk about PK outside of my AU, I even hesitate sharing stuff about the AU in places like Discord because of all the comments that assume FPK is also a freak who happily killed his kids. Augh, sorry, I got a little carried away. I think it's safe to say that I'm not the biggest fan of how the general fandom sees him (and other characters too, but with PK it feels the most apparent to me). Also please don't take this as me being upset that you mentioned it, I'm not, it's just a general frustration with the fandom haha

I answered a similar ask to this before, but I suppose I can mention it again. I don't think the buzzsaws were ever in the actual White Palace. Instead, they were a manifestation of his guilt and anxiety that only appeared in the dream realm version. He would never allow them in the actual palace, not only were they too dangerous, but he would hate the loud, sharp noise.

The same goes for the Path of Pain. It never actually existed in the physical palace, and my view on it is similar to yours. It was a locked away memory, hidden behind buzzsaws that represented all that anxiety and pain that he not only inflicted on others but also himself. That being said, he never saw the actual memory as something to be ashamed of, if anything, I think he wishes he showed the vessel more affection, maybe then he would've changed his mind and spared them all the suffering. The shame comes from the fact that he didn't, that despite the voice in the back of his mind telling him that this was his child that he was about to sacrifice, he still continued with his plan. And I think that was why the memory was so well hidden, it wasn't that he thought he ruined the plan by showing Holly affection, it's that he did that and then still allowed for them to be sealed away. All he thinks of whenever he remembers that moment, is that he should have stopped there and looked for a different way to stop the infection. But he never did, and he'll never forgive himself for that.

#ask stuff #feral pk au #save #fpk

[newnevermind-sanity]

I think something else to note since my other post about PK is getting attention: is that unless someone knows what they're doing, dreams cannot be controlled.

This is why the Radiance is so damn dangerous: she will find a crack and worm her way in, promising sweet things that the average person can't fight back against. Every single uninfected person with is lucky to not have come under her radar/hasn't been there long enough/has a very strong will and sense of self. Even then, the strongest of wills can break (as evidenced with Holly) and it's only a matter of time before she claims everything.

They can fight back in dreams, but they can't control them. PK is not a dream god, just knows enough about the realms and has enough power to bullshit his way through this whole plan and the moving of the palace. That also means since he's not inherently a dream god and doesn't know everything, the White Palace ends up shifting and twisting into the platforming hell it is now. He doesn't have full control over it, and his emotions will dictate how it ends up being.

The only two beings that we know of that can control dreams in some way is the Radiance and Grimm. Grimm too is definitely the weaker one, being stuck in the nightmare realm and having to do this ritual. I think it's safe to say Radi and him probably got into some sort of feud (that Radi probably started with what we know of both of their personalities) and it lead to the realms separating. Everyone else is subject to their unconscious mind, and both Gods can take advantage if they want to. Grimm doesn't seem to interested in doing so other than harvesting essence, but Radi sure does, as that is a core mechanic of how the infection works.

Now the biggest question is: can a dream be sustained after its host is dead?

If we assume no, then maybe with Grimm's or Radi's intervention it can keep going, but I doubt it would work forever and would be draining on them both. They'd have to have a damn good reason to keep a dream alive.

But also if we assume no, the fuck is going on with the White Palace? Is the king somehow still alive in some form?

Though if the answer is yes, then the White Palace is a graveyard, a lingering fragment in the Dream Realm, and one that will fade with time.

All sorts of fun headcanons can come from just the concept of the dream realms alone. Being a fan of the Yume Nikki games, I think I like the idea of the King not being in full control of his dreams and a lot of the internal guilt and grief and wanting to run away from it all manifesting as a result. And you have to wonder just how it remains there when the King is seemingly dead...

#sanity shut up #hollow knight #headcanons #this was another ramble but yeah #I also def have thoughts on Grimm's and Radi's relationship and how badly that separation could've gone #I definitely don't think it was gentle #it was violent and passionate and hurt them both #two god siblings that just couldn't see eye to eye #the radiance #pale king #troupe master grimm #grimm

[hardman5509]

Touhou Ship Week ‘22 Day 1: Dreams & Invitation

@thshipweek 

Reimu stirred as she rose up. This is clearly not the shrine; it's too clean and well-maintained to be it. Ah, this must be a dream! Reimu chuckled to herself as she stood up and found that her clothes felt too heavy. They were actually protecting her against the cold. She looked down and noticed that she's not even wearing her miko robes...she's dressed up in a wedding outfit!

A western one at that. White, with lace, a veil covering her face (That Reimu assumed to be her eyes needing to be cleared of gunk) and this dress also gave her quite the cleavage...

...okay, she was going to roll with the weird dream until she saw the outfit.

“DOREMY!” Reimu protested out loud. “Get out here and give me my clothes back!”

“But they look good on you...” Yawned our Doremy as her head suddenly appeared within a wall. She yawned and looked at Reimu. “Do you want to know why you're dressed as a bride?” Reimu put her hands on her hips, tapping her foot. “You know, I made sure you cannot manifest any of your miko powers here, so trying to be intimidating just makes you look silly...”

Reimu took a second to consider what she could do before sighing and asking: “Okay. Why am I dressed up as a bride?”

“Because...” Out of Doremy's mouth came a floating bottle of sake. “I was paid to do so.” Reimu stared at the bottle for a second. She's not versed with bottles of alcohol, so she doesn't know what exactly the sake means. But something about a bottle of sake got her to think about who would have paid off the ruler of the Dream World to do this and all for a bottle of booze.

Only one culprit came to mind.

“Suika.”

“Yup.” Doremy winked and the bottle of sake started to pour out, the liquid forming into a cup. The cup levitated into Reimu's hand. “And here comes the groom, whoop, whoop.” The door to the bedroom opened up and in walked Suika, dressed appropriately as the western groom. Black suit, black tie, and a big smug smile to go with this.

“Ready, my darling?” Suika asked as she held out a hand, as if Reimu is going to take it and not bteak the wrist.

“Suika.” Reimu let out a long breath. “What is going on?”

“Well...” Suika rotated a hand around. “I wanted to marry you...”

“Okay...”

“But I know you might not say 'yes' for various reasons, one of them is that you're a shrine maiden and I'm a youkai. Looks bad on you.”

“Yup.”

“So I hunted down Doremy, handed her one of my finest bottles of sake, and coaxed her into setting this all up.” Suika explained as she grabbed a cup that Doremy pulled up. “I mean, I figured I could only pull this off only in the realm of dreams...” Suika took a moment to take a swing from her cup of sake. “Just had to do it!”

“Uh-huh.” Reimu pulled on a part of the dress. “And you picked out this style of dress...”

“Oh, I did.” Doremy put a foot to her her chest, before replacing it with a hand. “For funsies.”

“Funny.” Reimu sighed as she clutched on the bridge of her nose. “Suika, do you think that I want any part of this?” Suika grimaced and looked away. “I would like my dreams to be somewhat normal and relaxing. Even more so after the day I jut had.” She almost felt like ripping off her dress but she didn't know what she had under this.

“Sorry...” Suika stuck out her tongue. “I mean, I can ask Doremy here to change the dream...” Doremy waved with her tongue. “Whatever you want! How about a palace of gold?” Reimu shook her head. “Okay...an...empty...Gensokyo? One free of youkais?” Reimu sighed before shaking her head. “Okay, okay. I'll just allow you to tell her then. I'mma out of guessing.”

Reimu sniffed. “Doremy?” She called out. “Hey, give me back my normal clothes...not in that creepy way.” Doremy groaned as she snapped her fingers. Reimu found herself back in her usual outfit. Ah, back to wearing threadbare. Good. “And keep Suika around.” Reimu giggled as she stared at the suit-wearing Suika. “Hey...”

“...yes?”

“You're dressed for it. Go and get a job.”

“...eh?”

“If you get a well-paying job...” Reimu started to stroke around her hair. “Then I'll marry you. For real.” Reimu went back into her bedroll, leaving a stunned Doremy and Suika. “Yeah...” Reimu yawned. “This is the only thing I want to dream about. More sleep...” She waggled a lazy finger to Suika. “And maybe one day when that happens, I'll invite you into something bigger than my dreams...”

Suika started to shake a bit before a smile came onto her face. Before Doremy could ask for what Suika wanted, Suika raced off to 'go and find a job'. Doremy would like to tell Suika that she's not going to find a job out here in this small dream...but eh. The bottle of sake is good and Suika didn't ask for it back...

“Eh, people in love are weird.” Doremy commented out loud before she vanished from the dream.

#touhou #thshipweek #reimu #suika #doremy

[xsamsharons]

long live - alina starkov.

pairing: alina starkov x reader

genre/warning: angst, death.

words: 1.2k

summary: you forget, after a while, what it’s like to wake up next to her.

a/n: my entry for @wtfrae and @wafflesandschemingfaces taylor swift writing challenge !!

You forget, after a while, what it’s like to wake up next to her.

The soft mornings spent giggling together in bed, the sweet whispers of empty promises into each other’s ear, the feeling of her lips on your neck and her hands on your waist - it fades, vanishes more with each passing day. The glimmer in her eyes isn’t there when you look at the paintings that people have made of their saint: Sankta Alina, Sol Koroleva, The Sun Summoner, but never your Alina. In those paintings, she holds her head like a hero on the history book pages you’d read countless times as a grisha in the palace, and she looks powerful, assertive. You don’t have, however, any sort of painting to help you remember the seventeen year old girl you’d known, brave, yes, but frightened and alone, desperate to not fail her people. You don’t have a painting immortalizing the wrinkles by her eyes when she smiled, and the books never mentioned any of the words she’d softly spoken to you before her death.

“I had the time of my life fighting monsters with you.”

She’d whispered as you begged her to stay, to wait, to hang on a little longer. You’d felt the life drain out of her body with every passing second as you held her close to you, tears staining both of your faces.

“I want you to promise me something.” she’d said, and you remember hating how she sounded as if she had accepted her faith, as if she had given up. “Move on, love someone else, live your life for the both of us.” her voice had been strained and hoarse as she spoke, and you’d pleaded with her to just save her breath and her strength, to stop talking nonsense. “And if you have children someday, when they point to the pictures,” she’d continued anyway, ignoring the shake of your head, her voice cracking on the last part while she talked about a future she would’ve liked to share with you. “Please tell them my name.” she’d whispered, plead. “Not the sun summoner or the saint they’ll read about, but Alina Starkov, the girl you loved.” she’d finished, mustering up all of the strength she could to raise her hand and softly cup your cheek, wiping the tears from your face.

“Please don’t go.” you’d begged, screamed and cursed every saint above you. “Stay with me.”

“I’ll always be with you.” she’d answered, and then her hand dropped from your face, and just like that she was gone. Nikolai, Genya and Zoya can’t shake the scream you let out at that moment until this day, and they’re sure it will haunt them for the rest of their lives. A battle cry, a mournful shriek that tore your insides apart, a heartbroken wail as you hugged the limp body of the girl you loved.

And even now, on particularly bad days, you dream of her.

You dream of her smile and how it used to fill your heart with joy every time you were the cause of it, how the sun looked like it had only been created to shine down on her eyes. You dream of burying your face into her white hair and hugging her tight, feeling her place soft kisses on top of your head as she holds you to her. You dream of her nicknames and her voice, how it used to drip from her mouth like honey; so sweet, so lovely, so… alive.

“Lapushka.” she calls you during those dreams. ‘It means honey, sweetie, love in Ravkan’ you remember her explaining many moons ago. “I’ve missed you.” She tells you every time she visits you in your sleep, reaching out to place her hand on the side of your cheek like she’d done during her last moments alive, but also countless times before.

Sometimes the dreams manifest themselves as sort of memories, digging around your mind until they find a sweet souvenir of your time with her. Last time this happened, you dreamed of the night you danced together like you knew your lives would never be the same, behind the closed doors of her room as the music played from the outside and entered through the open window.

“I hate this kingdom.” you’d admitted to her as you swayed around her room in your nightgowns.

She’d let out a soft chuckle at the sudden confession, and shrugged. “Right now it’s not that bad, it feels as though the kingdom lights are shining just for me and you.” she’d said, looking out the window to see how the stars casted a light down on the palace, and how the dimmed lights all seemed to be pointing to her room.

“I suppose it does feel that way.” you’d smiled up at her once you followed her line of sight and admired the night sky above you. “But you’re still the only thing keeping me here.”

“Maybe when all this is over, we can escape to wherever you want to.” her eyes held so much emotion they almost made you look away, but they were filled with so much love that it knocked the breath right out of your chest.

To this day, that’s one of the things you remember the most, even when you start to forget her voice or her mannerisms, you remember the look she gave you that night; so full of hope, so excited for life. Long live that look on her face, that’s how you want to remember her, so you tell her.

“Someday, you will be remembered.” you’d started, catching her off guard and noticing the shocked expression on her face. “The sun saint? She’ll be a legend.” you’d both laughed then, not knowing the cruel joke that destiny had prepared for you, not knowing the future was much closer than you thought.

Somedays, the dreams aren’t memories, and instead your mind plays a sick game of ‘what could’ve been’, conjuring up scenarios in which you’re happy and together. The sun shines on her face and she dances around it’s rays, basking in her natural element and smiling, her eyes closed and content, her chest rising and falling as she breathes because she is alive.

“Long live all the magic we made.” she always says. “I love you, lapushka.”

You try to say it back, to scream at her and call her all sorts of names for leaving you, to beg her to take you with her, to ask her why she didn’t.

No words ever come out, because she kisses you as you start to flutter your eyes open.

And for a moment, it feels real.

When you are balancing on that fine thread between consciousness and unconsciousness, you can almost feel the ghost of her lips against your own.

But then you wake up.

And you’ve forgotten what it felt like to wake up next to her.

taglist: @subjecta13-thefangirl @wtfrae @goldengoddess@thegirlwiththeimpala @itisroe @meiitanoia @vintagebitc (shoot me an ask or reply to this if you want to be added).

#alina starkov #alina starkov x reader #alina starkov imagine #alina starkov fic #alina starkov fanfic #alina starkov fanfiction #alina x reader #alina imagine #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone spoilers #siege and storm #ruin and rising #the grisha trilogy #jessie mei li #raatswc

[vindelllas]

the beauty of punarvasu 🦋🏹

🏹 kali uchis: punarvasu surya

🦋 punarvasu natives, such as mariah carey* and kali uchis, tend to be obsessed with butterflies and their imagery. butterflies are representative of the air/ether element. the deity of the punarvasu nakshatra is aditi, the mother of gods and the goddess of space and the ether element. we tend to see many butterfly-like qualities about punarvasu natives. for example, many natives may be naturally quite restless and finicky and always feel the need to move or travel to satisfy their insatiable appetite for new experiences (similar to the monach butterfly’s migratory nature). this nakshatra being the vimshottari birth of jupiter, causes many natives to want to expand throughout multiple areas of life too quickly and without proper judgment before hand. their aspirations may quickly multiply and quickly reced at a later date. coming and going, flying up and down just like a butterfly. because this nakshatra tends to struggle with commitment and maintaining a steady, continual frequency, their hardest feat in life may be, what i like to refer to as, the chrysalis period. the chrysalis period in life is where many jupiter natives are called to go through multiple transformations and changes in their lives before they see the reward of finding who their true being/self is. they go through life like a caterpillar yearning to become a great being one day, going through the chrysalis of transformation, and, solely after the gruesome time commitment of the chrysalis, typically becoming the best at what they do.

🏹sofia vergara (punarvasu chandra and surya): upper photo

🏹 penelope cruz (punarvasu chandra): lower photo

🌬 the appearances of jupiter dominant individuals are very unique. it is hard to pinpoint the general consensus of jupitarian women’s looks because jupiter really bestows its natives with originality and niche looks specific to the native, much like the big planet of restriction: saturn. first let’s take a look into the two rashis of this nakshatra: gemini and cancer. gemini is ruled by mercury, giving natives a rather elvish and smaller appearance (due to mercury ruling the lower abdomen and bestowing its natives with a generally high metabolism). cancer is ruled by the moon giving natives a yin, curvy, and busty (due to chandra ruling the chest) figure. juxtaposed with the expanisive/yang nature of jupiter gives natives larger features, like big lips and bigger/airy (ether) eyes.

🐈 when researching the appearance of natives, i also like to take into account their nakshatra’s yoni. this is because i believe the yoni of the native somewhat glosses over the planetary dominance of the individual. for example, rat yonis tend to have a pinched face like many rodents, serpent yonis tend to have intoxicating eyes resembling that of snakes, rabbit yonis tend to have prominent, apple-y cheeks like bunnies, etc.. punarvasu, being the feminine feline (female cat) yoni adds somewhat feline features, like arched brows, almond shaped eyes, and overall much emphasis on the features nearing the orbital bone. similar to how cats typically have rich iris coloring to contrast their fur coat and pronounced whiskers where eyebrows would lie on humans.

🍋 jupitarian women also tend to have blonde/yellow undertone hair, this is likely due to jupiter being ruled by the color yellow and remedied by wearing gold/donating yellow objects (i.e. bananas/saffron). overall, they are the best planetary type for those wishing to dye, bleach, or wear wigs of the color blonde. blonde can truly compliment their ethereal looks and remedy jupiter, i.e. shakira (punarvasu native) going blonde and being primarily recognized for her artificially blonde hair.

🏹shakira (punarvasu chandra): left photo

🏹 left eye (punarvasu chandra): middle photo

🏹 mariah carey (punarvasu chandra)*: right photo

🎙punarvasu is heavily prominent in the music industry, from mariah carey* and shakira to eartha kitt and nina simone. i believe this is due to jupiter’s overall auspicious energy. early we reviewed the chrysalis stage of jupiter, after said stage, we see jupiter natives being bestowed with great fortune and fame for their efforts. we also see this musical prevalence with vishakha (another nakshatra under jupiter’s rulership), many famous singers are also born under this star. such as miley cyrus, beyonce, katy perry and more! if we take a step back and look at jupiter and the houses jupiter rules, we can get a better understanding of why. jupiter rules two rashis: sagittarius and pisces. sagittarius is the natural ninth house and pisces is the natural twelfth house of the zodiac. the ninth house pertains to honesty, principles, dreams, and intuition. it is considered to be the dharma bhava and rules one’s religious instincts, good karma, dharma, ethics, higher learnings, one’s inclination towards good deeds and charity. it is essentially a house influenced by luck, fortune, and favors. the twelfth house is the ending of one’s life cycle and the beginning of their spiritual journey. it is often considered to be the house of unconsciousness, the undoing of self, and imprisonment. this is the essence of jupiter, brihaspati challenges your wisdom and rewards you when he deems fit (9th house) and if you prove to be unsuccessful, this could be your undoing and call to ground yourself (12th house). time and time again we see these jupitarian women succeed in their respective industries and devote themselves to philanthropy and causes pertaining to empowerment, such as miley cyrus’ hippie foundation and her being very vocal about her feminist ideologies. we see jupiter women gravitating towards music almost as a form of spiritual expression (twelfth house) and a channel to express their immense lyricism (ninth house pertaining to wisdom). even in the later years of their career, we still see women like mariah carey* and shakira continue to make music and receiving immense credit and followings for doing so.

🏹 phoebe tonkin (punarvasu surya): upper photo

🏹 meghan markle (punarvasu lagna): lower photo

🏹 in ardra, we saw the process of forming the rational mind and free will after rohini’s rejection of bhrama’s pursuits and fearfully running away (mrigashira). we see punarvasu acts as the bridge between communications, mental intelligence, and journeys (third house/gemini) and peace of mind, motherhood, and domesticity (fourth house/cancer). this bridges the elements of ether and water and generally creates a harmonious, caring, and auspicious individual. these same traits are also abundant in the following nakshatra: pushya. think of punarvasu as the cosmic mother (aditi/4th house) who has gained immense knowledge and wisdom through life (brihaspati/3rd house) and the beginning of domesticity and motherhood, whereas pushya is the nourisher and the nourishing milk the mother provides (brihaspati and the 4th house combined).

🦢 due to the overall motherly nature of punarvasu, we also see this natural purity to the natives. hence, why many punarvasu women wear white (the color associated with purity). looking at the street style of punarvasu natives, i saw a lot of the typical colorful and eclectic styles jupitarian women like to wear. however with punarvasu, i saw a more subdued version of the typical jupitarian style. i noticed lots of sweaters, semi-tailored/fitted jeans and pants, flowy and distressed shirts, and overwear. i would describe a typical punarvasu outfit to consist of gold jewelry (a nod to the jupitarian rulership of gold), distressed and relaxed clothing (symbolic of the yang energy of jupiter), and lots of primarily white, lead, and black clothing with colorful embellishments. as previously mentioned, white is symbolic of the purity of punarvasu, lead is considered to be the auspicious color of this nakshatra, and black is indicative of the spiritual qualities and the yang manifestation of jupiter himself.

🏹 romee strijd (punarvasu surya): left photo

🏹 alessandra ambrosio (punarvasu chandra): right photo

🌱 punarvasu reminds me of the painting “garden of earthly delights” by hieronymus bosch. a painting primarily about the dichotomy between heaven and hell and the road that lies between it. it is like the greenery that is rebuilt after the purposeful destruction of ardra. the painting depicts succulent strawberries, palaces, shimmering crystals, and seed pods ready to burst. surrounded by fountains of clear azul water flowing directly into the mouths of what many believe to be adam and eve, plucked fruits, and duos caressing inside glistening bubbles, ajar clam shells, and ripened nectarines, indicative of the journey of all nature, planetary vimshottari birth nakshatras and the cosmic blessings of aditi. this fruitful abundance, combined with their lovely, nurturing nature, is a resemblance of the left (heaven) side of the painting, the jupitarian chrysalis period is the middle (worldly) board of the painting, and the dangerously falling susceptible to the influences of others is the right (hell) side of the painting.

🌳 punarvasu is of the vasutva prapana shakti, meaning “the power to gain substance”. in general, it is easy for them to get inspired by their creative ideas and plans, but they must learn to bring their ideas to fruition and into reality. because when they do, great things happen, i.e. punarvasu natives like the singer nina simone or the victoria secret supermodel alessandra ambrosio being highly successful and regarded in their respective industries. i cannot stress this is enough: while punarvasus are extremely talented and abundant looks and career wise, like all jupitarian women, they must learn to heal from the trials and tribulations of their lives (the garden of earthly delights). to help aid natives lying in the cancer rashi, i recommend meditation. for those lying in the gemini rashi, it is of the utmost importance for them to ground themselves and not allow the fickle nature of air to overun themselves.

as always, i am open to any constructive criticism! i tried to touch on both the appearance, fashion, and symbolism of punarvasu and i hope i did these natives justice! in my opinion, this nakshatra is truly criminally underrated. punarvasu is so angelic, expansive and gracious 💫 if you are looking for more information about punarvasu, get to know the overrulers and supreme deities of mercury, vishnu (the maintainer) and narayana (the cosmic person), the moon, apas (the water goddess) and parvati (the supreme goddess), and jupiter, indra (the king of the gods) and bhrama (the law giver)!! if any of my placements or information is incorrect please feel free to let me know! also, i am fully aware of the origins of vedic astrology and if i was in anyway disrespectful to hindu culture, i will take down this post immediately xx

* the wonderful @/starlitebimbo and @/venusianvirago on twitter informed me that mariah carey has two birth dates and may either be a punarvasu or anuradha moon!

**all of these placements were found using astrotheme/.com and/or astro-charts/.com. it is important to note that some chandra (moon) placements may be off by up to 6 degrees and lagnas (risings) as well, due to the fact that many websites do not have 100% accurate birth times for the given celebrities.

**i take absolutely no credit for the invention of vedic astrology-based appearance profiles. please watch claire nakti on youtube or look into @/cn0bles, @/lovejustlied, @/dh4nishta, and @/vanillemercure on twitter for more in-depth analysis on vedic astrology xx

#jupiter #vedicastrology #astrology #gemini aesthetic #cancer aesthetic #gemini moon #cancer moon #chandra #mercury planet #budha #astrology notes #moon

[feralphoenix]

SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS: The Mechanics of the Infection

welcome back to feral’s essay tag where the hot takes don’t stop from keep being hot!

this particular meta has a Lot of citations from canon, and my plan is to have them as actual footnotes in the dreamwidth mirror when that goes up (as i always crosspost my meta there in case my layout text is too small for any folks accessing these from computer and not mobile).

CONTENT WARNING FOR TONIGHT’S PROGRAM: This essay contains discussion of body horror, cancer, and many of the darker aspects of Hallownest’s society.

ALSO, AS USUAL: I read Hollow Knight as anti-colonialist fiction and all of my meta approaches the text from that angle. This essay is strongly critical of the Pale King and Hallownest, and affords sympathy to pre-Hallownest societies & native characters, including Radiance. If you come from a Christian cultural background (regardless of whether you currently practice the religion or not), some of the concepts I am going to discuss may be challenging for you. Please be responsible in your choice whether to engage with this content, and also, be respectful here or wherever else you’re discussing this essay. Thanks.

SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS: The Mechanics of the Infection

If you’ve ever looked through my Hollow Knight tags, you have probably seen me joke about the Infection like a lot, usually along the lines of Radiance casting Level 9 Inflict Tang on Hallownest, or “(radi voice) the End of EVA will continue until you Let My People Go” or some such. In addition to being some of the most beautiful body horror I’ve yet seen in fiction, its appearance also makes it a veritable meme factory.

It is also something that inspires a lot of very wild theorizing amongst fans, because canon tells us WHY the Infection exists but doesn’t ever directly explain WHAT it is. To name just a few of the guesses I’ve seen, people have posited that it could be some sort of pupa juice, or maybe some type of parasitic fungus.

I have my own guess, though, and it’s based on hints we can find in-game. I would like to share it with the class today, so let’s take a quick look through the sauce, starting with what we already know!

WHY

We learn why the Infection happened from Seer and Moss Prophet, and this is also summed up more directly in Team Cherry’s dev notes attached to Seer.

The Pale King wanted to be the only god of light in the crater,* so he tried to kill Radiance by thralling her children - attracting the moths with his light and making them forget about her,** assimilating them into Hallownest. Radiance survived because some moths still remembered and tried to preserve what they could of their original culture,*** and eventually she attempted to reassert her existence and communicate with the bugs of the crater by speaking to them through their dreams. However, the Pale King realized what was happening and ordered his worshippers to shut her out.****

Radiance did not give up, and continued to broadcast her message through dreams. This unstoppable force VS immovable object conflict could not last forever - something eventually had to give, and what gave was the mortals.***** The Infection was an accident that Radiance did not initially intend, but presumably chose to weaponize after the fact as a way to attempt to pressure TPK into releasing the moths and leaving her alone (or, barring that, a way to thoroughly destroy his kingdom at the very least).

SOURCES:

* “No blazing kin. Only one light shall shine against the dark.” - Lore tablet hidden beside the Pale King’s throne in the White Palace.

** “None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters.” - Seer’s 1200 Essence dialogue.

*** “But the memories of that ancient light still lingered, hush whispers of faith... Until all of Hallownest began to dream of that forgotten light.” - Seer’s 2400 Essence dialogue.

**** “The King and the bugs of hallownest resisted this memory/power and it started to manifest as the infection.” - from Team Cherry’s dev notes attached to Seer.

***** “Light is life, beaming, pure, brilliant. To stifle that light is to suppress nature. Nature suppressed distorts, plagues us.” - Moss Prophet's dialogue.

HOW

Now that we’ve recapped why the Infection exists, let’s examine the process of how the Infection works. We see some examples of this with various characters in-game, and the Hunter also shares his observations of the Infection’s mechanics in his commentary on the Infected Crossroads entries.

Since we’ll be bringing up the Hunter's Journal here, I want to first examine three entries to establish its dual authorship and how trustworthy it is: The Shade’s entry, the Lightseed’s, and Radiance’s.

We know that the bottom section of the Hunter’s Journal is the Hunter’s personal notes on each creature because the game itself tells us so. So who writes the notes on top that give a brief explanation of what each creature is? It’s a common fan theory that Ghost writes these, which I believe is indeed the case.

First let’s look at the Shade, which is automatically unlocked when we receive the Hunter's Journal in-game regardless of whether we have died and fought the Shade or not. Mechanically this is important because if the Shade weren’t unlocked by default it would be impossible to attain the Hunter achievements without dying at least once - this would REALLY suck for anybody who likes to suffer enough to try to complete the journal in Steel Soul mode.

The Shade’s entry reads:

Echo of a previous life. Defeat it to retake its power and become whole.

-

Each of us leaves an imprint of something when we die. A stain on the world. I don’t know how much longer this kingdom can bear the weight of so many past lives...

Notice that the top text knows exactly what the Shade is and how it works. In story terms, this would imply that Ghost has died and come back enough pre-game to understand the mechanics of how their revivals work.

The Lightseed’s entry reads:

A single-celled organism, completely infected. Scurries about simple-mindedly.

-

Strange air has been seeping down from above for years. Some of the air became liquid, and some of that liquid became flesh, and some of that flesh came to life. I don’t know what to make of it.

In this entry, the top text assumes that Lightseeds are a Lifeseed-like creature that has been infected, and the Hunter’s notes reveal that this is incorrect and the Lightseeds were actually born from the Infection itself. From this we learn that the top text isn’t omniscient and can be mistaken: It’s written from a limited perspective.

And here’s Radi’s entry:

The light,* forgotten.

-

The plague, the infection, the madness that haunts the corpses of Hallownest... the light that screams out from the eyes of this dead Kingdom. What is the source? I suppose mere mortals like myself will never understand.

Here, the top text has information that the Hunter doesn’t, and which only a handful of bugs are privy to anymore.

From these three examples, I believe it is safe to say that Ghost is in fact the author of the journal entries’ top segments.

It’s important to remember that the observations these characters make can be not wholly correct, and I’ll bring that up when I believe it to be relevant, but for now let’s build a picture of how a case of the Infection generally progresses by looking at the Hunter’s commentary on Infected Crossroads enemies, and at a handful of characters whose Infection we directly observe: Bretta, Sly, Myla, and Moss Prophet.

The Hunter describes the broad arc of Infection progression in the Violent Husk's entry: “First [the bugs of Hallownest] fell into deep slumber, then they awoke with broken minds, and then their bodies started to deform...”

The two NPCs who we can save from becoming Infected, Bretta and Sly, are initially found emitting orange fog and mumbling to themselves. In Bretta’s case, when listened to, she initially talks about being left behind and forgotten** as she assumes that all people will treat her this way even though she craves affection and attention; Dream Nailed either before or after being listened to, she mentions a “shining figure”.***

Meanwhile, Sly speaks about his pupil Oro and someone named Esmy, and when his symptoms subside he identifies that he was led to the Crossroads village ruins by a dream.****

Listening to Bretta and Sly completely brings them back to reality, after which they leave the underground area entirely to return to Dirtmouth. However, when the player encounters Myla after defeating Soul Master and obtaining Descending Dive, listening to her does not cause any change in her condition despite that she is not yet hostile.

During these encounters, Bretta is surrounded by orange fog, Sly is surrounded by orange fog and his eyes have also begun to turn orange, and Myla's eyes are glowing but there is no fog around her. So, we can deduce that for as long as the orange fog is present, a bug may still be awoken and cured (Bretta and Sly both show no signs of relapse over the course of the game), but once the fog disappears the bug can no longer be saved by external means.

The "deformation" that the Hunter mentions in the Violent Husk entry refers to the large blobs of Infection that develop on the bodies of creatures that have been infected for a long period of time. We observe these upon the Infected Crossroads enemies, as well as on Hollow and the Moss Prophet. We also see that these Infection tumors can eventually kill bugs once they grow too large and impede bodily functions, just like real cancer: The Moss Prophet and Mossy Vagabonds are all discovered in this state after the Crossroads become infected, as are the Husk Guards in the Crossroads.

So, the progression we can see here is that bugs become infected through their dreams, and while they can initially be woken, if left alone they will fall into too deep a sleep to wake up. Some time after this they will start to move around again but will be hostile to any creatures that are not infected. And, if left in this state for a very long period of time, they will develop tumorous growths which are potentially fatal.

Potentially fatal. This is an interesting contradiction to a basic assumption that most players - and even Ghost and the Hunter - seem to hold about the Infection: That is, that the Infection functions like a pop-culture zombie plague, and infected creatures are all undead (reanimated dead things that can't be killed); thus that the enemies that respawn after resting or going offscreen are the same ones that Ghost just murdered, and have simply been reanimated by the Infection once again.

But infected creatures can die of the Infection. What’s more, bosses and unique instances of generic enemies (such as Myla and the Moss Knight at the pier of Unn’s lake) do not respawn once killed. And it’s definitely not that Ghost killed them that counts: Traitor Lord dies whether Ghost fights him solo or whether Cloth is brought along, in which case she always gets the final blow. This creates the argument that the respawning generics are NOT in fact the same individuals reanimated over and over, but different individuals of the same enemy class, and that their different respawn rates speak to how plentiful those creatures are - small animals respawning faster because a new one will arrive in the recently killed one’s territory sooner, for instance.

Ghost and the Hunter both seem to assume that infected enemies are all undead - many creatures are identified as “husks” or “the remains of [whatever specific bug]” in the Hunter's Journal. But we’ve already established that sometimes Ghost and the Hunter are wrong.

So, if infected creatures aren’t undead, then what are they?

SOURCES:

* I find it a very interesting tidbit of characterization for Ghost that they refer to Radiance as the Light, as native bugs do, rather than calling her the Old Light, as Hallownest bugs did. This has some fascinating implications for where Ghost feels their allegiances to be, but that's neither here nor there right now lol.

** “Ohhh... please... don’t leave me behind! You... forgot about me...? I knew you would... everyone always forgets about me...” - Bretta’s dialogue, Fungal Wastes encounter

*** “...Shining figure...So bright...” - Bretta’s Dream Nail dialogue, Fungal Wastes encounter

**** “...ugghh, Oro you oaf.... You wield your nail... like a club... ...Esmy... how much deeper do we have to go... Oh! What?! Who are you?! ...I see. This old village. What a strange dream, to have led me down here! If you hadn’t found me, I don’t think I would’ve ever woken.” - Sly’s dialogue, Crossroads village encounter

WHAT

In a move very on-brand for Hollow Knight, there’s actually a line from Seer that gives the whole game away - and I mean this incredibly literally, she declares her loyalty to Radiance and says Fuck Hallownest and also hints at what she hopes for from Ghost all in two breaths!! - except that most players are never going to see this line because Seer only says this if you screw up platforming in the Forgotten Dream and yeet yourself off a platform before picking up the Dream Nail.

I do not doubt that I could wring a whole essay out of this one line by itself (and Seer deserves an essay from me so maybe I will), but today the part we’re concerned with is the third line of this dialogue, i.e. how she describes the Dream Nail to Ghost: “The power to wake this world from its slumber[.]”

Its slumber.

The Infection doesn’t only spread through dreams. It is a dream.

To put it in a more meta/video game mechanics sort of way, the Infection is a status ailment. Sleep exists as a common status ailment in RPGs, strategy games, and even some adventure games and platformers. Usually the status ailment of sleep is a mild nuisance that wears off after time, when a character is struck, or if the requisite curative is used; in comparison the Infection is Sleep But Bass Boosted. Appropriate, for a glorified status ailment that’s inflicted by the literal actual god of dreams.

The Infection can only be cured in the very early stages. Once an infected creature has fallen into a coma, there’s no longer any hope of a third party breaking the curse... and also, infected creatures sleepwalk. Violently.

This may also provide an explanation for why mummified bugs in the catacombs have been infected, too: If they were freshly dead and their lingering spirit was still attached enough to their corpses, and that lingering spirit retained enough of a mind to dream...

Aside from those mummified bugs, though, I believe it likely that most if not all of the infected enemies in-game are very, very much alive.

Beyond all the dialogue and lore crumbs pointing to the Infection simply being a cursed sleep, this explanation makes the most sense when thinking about Radiance as a character. She is the literal embodiment of dreams as well as the sun, so inflicting eternal slumber with bonus malignant sleepwalking is a natural extension of her power and a way to use it offensively without being directly violent.

(I've written about this at length elsewhere, but signs point to Radiance having been a pacifist prior to the Pale King’s invasion. Short version: The Moth Tribe were pacifists and Radiance was the center of their culture so it would be odd if she were an exception; she is incapable of inflicting any physical harm whatsoever in a game where lack of contact damage from an active enemy indicates helplessness and such enemies always flee from Ghost unless they have a tool they can use to fight with; her behavior in her boss battles indicates a lack of combat experience, and her nail-generating spells seem to be based on Hollow’s abilities. Real-life adult moths cannot fight - they defend themselves with flight, camouflage, mimicry, and I’m Poisonous So Fuck Off coloring.)

Now, I don’t want to downplay the harm the Infection causes - it doesn’t have to turn bugs into literal undead zombies to be devastating. What we can glean of Hallownest’s ruins suggests that as a state it was heavily dependent on labor to run its industry, so incapacitating the laborers would have turned the whole country on its head, especially because those laborers cannot be woken. The Infection also created an intense atmosphere of terror throughout Hallownest as bugs tried to discover ways to cure it or at least protect themselves. And as the Hunter observes,* because of how the Infection is caused, the harder you try to block Radiance out, the worse the Infection will get.

(A sidebar: Interestingly, the Infection's progress seems to be very slow when a creature willingly accepts it; Moss Prophet has Infection tumors when met but doesn’t die of them until the Crossroads is infected, though many Crossroads bugs are found dead of tumors immediately. Traitor Lord and his followers opted in to the Infection long ago, but Traitor Lord is still at the “orange fog” stage and could theoretically be cured, if he wanted to be. Both Traitor Lord and Moss Prophet are still completely lucid, too.)

Radiance may not have committed any direct violence against Hallownest, but the Infection does incite violence: infected creatures become hostile to and will attack the uninfected. And as we’ve discussed, the Infection itself can become fatal once it’s progressed far enough for tumorous growths to form.

A god smiting the shit out of her people’s oppressors by nonviolently but thoroughly disrupting their kingdom, Especially if that kingdom is a genocidal colonialist slave state,** as a Let My People Go And Leave Me Alone :) ultimatum is not unreasonable. (And Moss Prophet tells us point-blank that literally just listening to Radiance in the first place would have prevented the Infection before it began!) But despite that Hallownest as an institution is unambiguously awful, Hallownest bugs victimized by their own state (such as the maggot slaves and other menial workers) probably saw much less benefit from Hallownest’s genocides than the rich and nobility, and likely deserved the smiting way less than said rich and nobility.

Meanwhile Hallownest’s neighbors - all native nations who are just as much victims of TPK’s bullshit as the Moth Tribe - did not deserve to get caught up in the smiting at all.

Lateral harm in Hollow Knight is another topic that deserves its own essay - and more than that, lots of in-depth conversation! - but, again, that’s not the topic we want to focus on today. I do want to make it clear, though, that infected creatures being alive and theoretically wakeable if the curse should end doesn’t suddenly mean the Infection was actually no big deal. If you want your jimmies rustled, try Dream Nailing enemies that pull from the generic Dream Nail dialogue pool: They are on some level aware that they’re dreaming and can’t wake.***

Clues that the Infection is literally a dream are littered all over the game, from Elderbug’s initial dialogue**** to the name of ending 3, Dream No More - not only named that because that’s the ending where Ghost sacrifices Radiance’s life as well as their own to end Hollow’s suffering rather than only sacrificing their freedom.

Some of what Bardoon and Moss Prophet have to say about the Infection is suggestive of the nature of this dream, though. Moss Prophet appeals to their audience to find unity through the Infection,***** and Bardoon also remarks on this, though he cautions that this comes at the cost of being reduced to instinct.****** Dreaming does tend to come hand in hand with lack of inhibition and suggestibility, but I’m more interested in what Moss Prophet and Bardoon mean by unity, since infected creatures’ thoughts are different depending on what they are and what they were already doing while awake.

There's less specific hard evidence for this aside from how we can observe that Infection blobs are connected to Radiance, transmitting her heartbeat and birthing the Lightseeds, her unintended creations. But given that those blobs do originate from Infection fluid according to the Hunter... Radiance is not just the embodiment of dreams but the heart of THE Dream. So could the Infection be a forcible pseudo-immersion into that capital-D Dream, the Dream Realm itself?

Whether my hunch here is right or not, I can’t in good faith end this essay without bringing all y’all’s attention to absolutely my favorite bit of The Infection Is A Dream foreshadowing: The way multiple parties mention the fact that the Infection smells and tastes sweet.*******

You know... it’s sweet... it’s a sweet dream... get it.........

And now that you can no longer unsee that brilliantly awful pun, I think I'll see myself out!

SOURCES:

* “The infection that swept through Hallownest so long ago... they say that the harder you struggled against it, the more it consumed you.” - Hunter’s commentary, Slobbering Husk Hunter’s Journal entry.

** I’m referring, of course, to the maggots. See: “Weakest members of the kingdom of Hallownest. Generally looked down upon and forced to do menial labour.” (Ghost’s commentary) and “If they try to bargain for their life, just ignore them. They have nothing to offer.” (Hunter’s commentary) from the Maggot Hunter's Journal entry as well as False Knight/Failed Champion’s backstory. Remember also that maggots are the larval form of flies like Sly (you’ll see the resemblance if you compare Sly’s features to the maggot siblings’), meaning Hallownest employs child slavery. In more cheerful news Sly’s backstory must be absolutely goddamn wild.

*** “I’m not...Dead..” “Am I...Sleeping?” “I can’t....Wake up...” - Dream Nail dialogue from generic Hallownest bugs (Wandering Husk, Leaping Husk, Horned Husk, Husk Bully, Husk Warrior) and from God Tamer for some reason

**** “Perhaps dreams aren't such great things after all...” - Elderbug’s initial dialogue

***** “Embrace light! Achieve union!” - Moss Prophet’s dialogue

****** “Theirs is a different kind of unity. Rejection of the Wyrm’s attempt at order. I resist the light’s allure. Union it may offer, but also a mind bereft of thought... To instinct alone a bug is reduced...Hrrm...” - Bardoon’s dialogue (Listen four times, not counting other dialogue flags)

******* “A thick orange mist fills these walking corpses. It has a sweet, sickly taste to it. I find it foul. After you kill these creatures, I suggest you do not eat them.” - Hunter’s commentary, Husk Bully Hunter’s Journal entry, just for one example.

#hollow knight #hollow knight spoilers #hollow knight meta #long post under cut - #essay

[gyucore]

long live the king

pairing: mage!hueningkai x noble!reader

tags: fluff, royalty au, friends to lovers, hueningkai can do magic

word count: 3.3k

prompts:

011: "May I have this dance?"

019: "I don't think anyone could ever be as lovely as you."

020: "You look incredible in that."

Tonight had been advertised as the night to end all nights— a masquerade ball held by the king at the palace, and a brightly lit ballroom decorated with gold and the continent's finest silk, adorning the kingdom's rose insignia. Entertainers and musicians positioned around the vicinity to perform their best acts and tunes, and the gates were left wide open to welcome everyone who wanted to join in, given that they tried their best to dress for the occasion.

Today was an event open to all the kingdom's citizens, from high seated nobles to common men by the streets, everyone was welcome to participate in the king's annual ball. However, that fact didn't matter for a family such as yours. Your father was the Marquess, which meant that you were invited to every single ball or gathering held by the nobility for the nobility. At least, that was how it had been until the incident.

The peering eyes of both the nobles and commoners alike have left you frozen on your spot by the pillar. Your bright red ball gown, although beautiful, was not helping you hide away from the eyes of the crowd. It was evident they were all thinking the same thing.

The unfortunate daughter of a fallen marquess.

News had gotten out about your family's crisis and had spread to the public like a disease. The Grand Marquess losing money, property, and power: The fall of a great noble. The story made headlines for weeks on end— rumors mixing in with the truth, and eventually, everyone had drawn the same conclusion. Pitiful.

You worry about your parents at the other end of the room, doing their best to mingle with the other nobles. The heavy atmosphere was weighing down on your chest.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you try to think of the things that calmed you down: the rustic smell of old books at the public library, the warm feeling you'd get when the rays of sunlight touch your skin as you sit by the window with your face buried deep into your favorite classic, the bright smile the common mage boy would give you everytime you crossed paths—

"Wow."

A familiar voice brings you back from your thoughts.

"You look incredible in that." The same bright smile you'd envisioned earlier now stood in front of you.

You gaze in awe at the man before you, dressed in what you could only describe as the most beautiful and elegant ensemble you'd seen tonight. The way the white suit hugged his waist left little room for the imagination. You doubt even the king himself could top this off.

"Lady Y/N. I believe fate must have brought us together in this fine evening." The man gently bends down, taking your hand and planting a kiss so fleeting that you barely felt it. Even with the golden mask on, you could easily tell who it was.

"Kai.."

"Ah, and here I was hoping I'd be a little more mysterious tonight." Kai holds back his laughter as he gazed upon you once more. You can't help but do the same.

Tonight, he looked nothing of a common mage but that of a king himself. If you hadn't known him beforehand, you would've mistaken him as so, especially with tonight's main event— the reveal of the king's successor. But alas, what the mage boy had going on for him was merely for appearances. A commoner like him could never be king in a world where even dreaming of becoming one was considered to be of highest absurdity.

"I thought you said you weren't attending?"

Kai shrugs, folding his hands behind his back. "And refuse my lady when you so graciously asked me out?"

His response catches you off guard. "I don't recall ever asking you anything of that sort."

"You asked if I'd attend."

"And that counts as asking you out?"

Kai chuckles. "When you asked me with such a cute look on your face, it was difficult to think you weren't looking forward to me being here."

And he was right. Given your circumstances, Kai being here with you was like a breath of fresh air. You'd been praying all night that he'd magically arrive to help you take your mind off of things, and you felt like crying out in joy when he actually did.

Kai looks around, seemingly getting a sense of the pressure you were in. "Shall we take a stroll around the garden, my lady?"

You follow his line of sight and spot the royal garden just outside the window. "I'll let you accompany me if you drop the whole my lady business."

Kai purses his lips as he takes your hand in his. "Can't you let me be fancy for one night?"

Every moment you'd spent with Kai up until this point had been the highlight of your days. As the daughter of the Marquess, you'd spent most of your time holed up inside your manor. Women barely got any education aside from the usual classes on manners and societal etiquette, and that included nobles as well. But that never stopped you. Once a week, when the guards changed shifts by the gate, and the maids and butlers were all busy with the weekly general cleaning, you'd take the opportunity to slip out in disguise, undetected by anyone. The main goal was to get to the public library and obtain access to educational material— ones that didn't involve any prim and proper rubbish that you've read over a thousand times.

The first time outside was rather difficult. You barely managed to get inside the library's more educational section while passing as a man. However, every succeeding attempt became easier and easier until coming out in secret and gaining access didn't seem like that much of a hassle anymore.

At the library, you were free to read any book you want, and used this opportunity to brush up on some business and economics as well as some of the basic sciences. You spent the first few months stocking up on knowledge until you felt it fine to relax a little and start reading novels to pass the time without the help of a disguise.

There was a section in the library that you hadn't checked; one that you'd deemed unnecessary as it only contained children's literature. It wasn't until you'd heard the sound of a man's voice followed by children's laughter that you felt compelled enough to take a peek.

"And then, the dragon swooped down onto the village and attacked the innocent villagers! ROARRR. Breathing fire as hot as, well, uh— FIRE!"

You slipped up and giggled at the young man's amusing narration, piping down a bit after realizing that he had noticed you from behind the shelves, throwing a knowing smirk your way.

It was then that he pulled down his cloak. Wavy brown locks gracefully reaching the back of his neck, bright eyes that could make any person let their guard down— he looked around your age which made you feel more at ease.

The young man steps back, dramatically breathing fire out of his mouth as the children cheered. Some were yelling at him to continue until only smoke came out, and you swore you heard one of them ask if he could make the fire turn green. Ridiculous, you think. But you were no different from these children, only being able to stand there in awe at the young man's trick. Perhaps turning the fire green wasn't such a terrible idea.

You've heard of mages among the commoners before, and had met a few that visited your manor but this was the first time you'd seen one in action. The flames that came out of his mouth looked awfully hot but the young man didn't even blink or showed any signs of pain.

He stops the fire and clears his throat, now kneeling down to face the children. "The villagers were worried sick! What would happen to their crops, their produce, their livelihood? If only a hero would come along and save them!" He makes an overly exaggerated wail before gasping.

"Well, who do we have here? A warrior has come to save the villagers!" The young man points at your direction and you feel your blood run cold as all the children in the room had turned their attention towards you, hopeful.

"A young maiden has arrived to slay the evil dragon!"

You quickly shake your head at his statement, holding your arms out in a cross. "No, kids. Don't believe what this man says. I am not a warrior, and I'm certainly not here to slay any dragons"

The young man raises a brow, getting up from his spot. "Then why do you have the magical sword that was forged to slay the mighty dragon?"

"What sword?"

The young man snaps his fingers. "That sword."

The weight on your hips dip on one side and you couldn't believe your eyes as a sheathed sword had magically manifested beside your waist out of thin air. "How did you— wait, is this a real sword?! You can't play around with real swords in front of children!"

The children turn towards the young man in confusion.

"Well, kids. Do you want the kind lady to slay the dragon with a real sword?"

"YES!" The children cheered.

The young man turns to you with a smile. "You gotta give the kids what they want, Miss."

An exasperated expression makes its way to your face. "I am not slaying any made up dragons!"

"Now, what's all this talk about slaying dragons?"

Taehyun, one of the stricter librarians, had come out of nowhere, surprising everyone. His eyes scan the room and quickly notices three things: (1) the dangerous sword hanging on your waist, (2) the excessive amount of children in the room when the sign on the way in definitely mentioned a capacity of only five, and (3) someone let the mage boy inside the library again. The culprit was evident.

"Jung Kai, I swear to the heavens I will—"

"Alright kids, time to go! We'll end the story next time!" The young man, Kai, rushes the disappointed children out of the section before they heard something they shouldn't.

You were about to walk away yourself but was quickly stopped by Taehyun's hand blocking your path. "Kai, didn't I tell you that you're not allowed to perform magic inside the library? And seriously," He confiscates the sword on your waist, holding it up in the air. "Violence?"

Kai looks at you and grins. "I suppose we could've gone with a more romantic ending. Something like the warrior's kiss saving the dragon from his curse, and he turns back into this super handsome, super cute, and super macho mage."

The way he shamelessly described himself left you speechless, and you steal a glance at the librarian who looked as equally disgusted as you are.

"Just clean up the mess before you leave. And that means you too, Miss Dragon Slayer."

"But I didn't even—" You cut yourself off after Taehyun dismisses himself from the room.

The section falls silent and Kai walks up to you, a smile ever present in his face. "I'm guessing this is the start of our new friendship?"

And that was what started it all. Everytime you'd visit the library after that, you seemed to bump into Kai more often than you liked. He saw through the disguise the first time he saw you wearing it and had promised to not utter a single word to anyone. The mage boy was much more reliable than he seemed to be, often helping you in your studies and teaching you more than the books ever could. Sometimes, he'd convince you to take a stroll around town and had shown you sights and wonders you wouldn't have expected to see inside the kingdom.

Before you knew it, Kai had become someone you'd cherished, and someone whose company you genuinely appreciated. He was patient and understanding as your makeshift mentor, and was this fun and outgoing guy whenever you two were out together. Kai became the first friend you'd made on your own regardless of status and the only friend you wished to keep by your side.

"I take it that the people in the ballroom were too much?" Kai speaks the moment arrived at the garden.

"Please. I couldn't even breathe in there." You play it off with a chuckle but thoughts of worry still plague your mind. "I'm guessing you probably know by now."

"About what? The fact that you're the daughter of the Marquess or that the Marquess has been in a crisis for a while?"

"Both."

Kai reaches for your hand, holding it reassuringly. "I've known for a while but that doesn't change anything now, does it? We became friends without the burden of our status, and we'll stay as friends regardless."

You hated this, hated how he always knew exactly what to say. The heat rushes up to your face and you squeeze his hand tighter, avoiding eye contact. "Thank you."

But truthfully, there was a little voice in Kai's head that wished you could be something more. Not after you'd shared those intimate moments alone at the library at dusk, not after he rushed in to catch you in his arms when you fell while shelving a book on the top shelves, and especially not after you almost shared a kiss after saying goodbye that night he'd helped you sneak back in.

Even now, as he lovingly gazed at your silhouette beneath the moonlight, he'd hoped that he'd have the chance to tell you how he felt. But then again, the chance could be right now at this very moment. The two of you were, afterall, at the king's ball.

"So, how were the gentlemen earlier?"

"What?" You raise your head to face Kai.

"I've no doubt that hundreds of people had been lining up to dance with you all evening." Kai grins as he gently lets go of your hand.

"Please, I haven't danced at all tonight."

"I find that quite hard to believe."

You sigh, recalling the events from earlier. "No one would want to be seen dancing with a fallen Marquess' daughter now would they?"

"Not when you look this beautiful?" Kai jokingly walks around you and you shy away from his gaze.

"You know I never say things I don't mean, Y/N." Kai bends down and holds your hands in his. "And believe me, I don't think anyone could ever be as lovely as you."

"Is flattery your main personality trait now?" You say as an attempt to not let his compliment affect you any further than it should but fail miserably so.

Kai stands before you with an unreadable expression. You'd argue this was the most serious look he's ever had since you'd met him.

"Care to dance?" Kai asks, leaning in closer, your faces merely inches apart. You feel your heart beating loudly in your chest, and you're almost afraid he might hear.

The moonlight casts a shadow on Kai's face, and despite the darkness, his eyes glistened, reflecting your own as you stared into his. You've never seen anyone look so beautiful. And here he was, telling you that you're the loveliest person he's ever known.

"Right now?"

Kai nods, taking off his mask and tossing it over to the side. "And I'd like it if we could dance without our masks too. I've been wanting to get a good look at your face all night."

You chuckle, removing your mask and tossing it to to the ground next to his. "And how do you suppose we dance without music? My reputation's already dirt at this point and I do not want to be branded as the crazy noble dancing at the royal garden in complete silence."

Kai fails to suppress his laughter, holding on to your shoulder to maintain himself upright. "Well, I wouldn't want to let my dear lady look crazy now would I?"

"And what are you planning to do?"

"Well, I am a mage." Kai smirks as he manifests a scepter out of thin air, leaving a trail of golden dust flurrying down.

This was the first time you've ever seen it in person. Kai had mentioned how he needed the aid of his scepter to perform high level magic, but he'd never taken it out in front of you until now. One look at the scepter and anyone could tell not just any old mage owned the darn thing. It looked majestic by all means, intricately decorated with gold and topped off with a brightly colored red gemstone you couldn't seem to identify. You'd heard that mages often created their own unique gemstones as a manifestation of their mana but for Kai's to be red, which had been said to be a quite powerful variant, made you wonder just how powerful your friend had been.

"And here we go." Kai takes the scepter in his hand and drives it into the ground. The impact causes a wave of light to burst from the scepter and spread throughout the reaches of garden. In a split-second, the wave of light rushes back into its source, compressing into a huge orb of light lifting up into the sky, rivaling the moon with its glow. The orb splits into smaller pieces and starts to dance around the garden, leaving you in awe at the spectacle.

Kai finds himself grinning from ear to ear at your reaction. He'd studied magic as an expression of rebellion against his father but now, he'd found another purpose to perform these little tricks of his. He places his hand on your waist and pulls you closer. "Wait for it."

The orbs of light find their places around you, slowly taking the shape of various instruments you've seen inside the ballroom, from strings to percussions, and even wind instruments. Smaller pieces of light continued to hover the surroundings, resembling glowing fireflies in the dark.

"Kai, this is beautiful." You look up at the young man, and he steps away, bowing his head as he plants yet another kiss on the back of your hand.

"May I have this dance?"

His eyes meet yours and you feel your heart skip a beat. It was rather difficult to explain. The Kai in front of you right now had been the same Kai you've always known, but somehow.. different.

You raise your hand for him to take, guiding your other hand to find perch on his shoulder, and his finding its place on your waist. With the first step, the instruments started playing. It's a piece you've heard before, one that Kai had fondly hummed nearly everytime you were together at the library.

It was as if the world had faded into the distance, and at this moment, there was only you and him, dancing alone in the garden. He pulls you close, his hold gentle and warm. Kai spins you around. The heel of your shoe collides with a rock, and you nearly stumble back until Kai manages to grab you by the waist on time, pulling you back into his arms.

You spot the smirk on his face under the moonlight, and you press a finger against his lips. "Not one word."

"I wasn't going to say anything." Kai lets you go, and you quickly grab a hold of his arms to find balance.

"Of course you weren't."

"Well, I do have something I have to tell you. A few things, actually."

You cock a brow at him, and he steps forward. "I'll tell you the most important part first."

"And that is?"

Kai reaches out to cup your cheeks, gazing into your eyes as if asking permission. You didn't need to say anything for him to understand, and he closes the gap between you, pressing his lips against yours. The feeling was foreign but certainly welcome, and you soon close your eyes and reciprocate, wanting to feel more of his soft lips, and wanting to hold him closer and closer.

For long had you held out on this, on actually acknowledging your growing feelings for the lad in fear of having to live with the thought of him not feeling the same. But in this moment, you felt a heavy burden being lifted from your shoulders.

"Kai, I.."

The light from the orbs dim down and soon dissipates. Kai pulls away, gazing upon your flushed face. "You mean the world to me, Y/N. I don't think my life would ever be the same without you."

The trumpets blare in the ballroom, a signal that the new king was to make an appearance soon. You feel Kai's hand around yours. "As for my other confession, I think it's best we head back first."

He leads you back into the ballroom, and disappears the moment you find your parents in the crowd. You join them in the center as everyone gathers to get a glimpse at the new king.

The herald makes his way beside the grand staircase, straightening himself up to make the announcement that every citizen had been waiting to hear all evening.

"Presenting the next in line to the throne, to rule the vast lands of our esteemed nation, and lead us into a continuing era of prosperity! Our future King, His Royal Highness, Kai Kamal Huening!"

The doors open, revealing Kai, your Kai, adorned in the royal family's crest, robes, and jewelries as he made himself known to his loyal subjects.

Behind him was public librarian, Kang Taehyun, who had been revealed to be serving as one oc the King's advisors, and now, for the new monarch.

"Long live the King!"

Kai could pick out your from the crowd in a heartbeat, hos gaze meeting yours as he flashes you his signature smile. You couldn't believe what was happening— Kai, your best friend in the whole world, had just confessed his love to you. And now, that same Kai had revealed to you and to the public that he had been the future ruler of the country all along. The crowds cheered.

"Long live the King!"

"Long live the King." You whisper to yourself, wondering what the future has in store for you.

#txt #tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt x reader #txt fic #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai imagines #huening kai x reader #huening kai imagines #hueningkai scenarios #hueningkai fluff #.reqs

[paintedwarpony]

C2E123 HIGHLIGHTS OF THE NIGHT

Nathaniel Nat20: Dodeca Heal Yourself

Marisha saying right away that she hates Nathaniel Nat20

"Just the appearance... for now."

Veth immediately resolving to use acid to solve the problem

Yasha JUMPING to stop Beau from letting herself be burned with acid

Travis: THAT WAS THE BIG FIX THAT WE HAD AND IT DIDN'T WORK

Aliooping acid

Matt: YOU SHOULD PROBABLY BE CARRYING AROUND A BASE IF YOU'RE CARRYING AROUND ACIDS

Midnight waffles

So much Travis

Exhaustion Point Gimme on Beau

"Its not a Wish..."

Yasha suggesting everyone of the Nein read the book 'a little bit'

*Om nom nom nom

Rolling an 8 on a d8

*D R A G O N

THE DRAGON BEING FUCKING GELIDON

The cataclysm bolt being a "ice arrow" on a white dragon

Travis vibing, just living his best life

Re-emergence of the Fastball Special

Dry Fart Battlecry

Re-emergence of Pathfinder rules

*NO MIND WHAMMIES FOR YASHA

Lucien legendary actions

SMITE

The awesome strategy work of the Nein as a team supporting each other

Lone mini camera angle shot

Meta Pigeon conversion

"I only have a ring of FIRE RESISTANCE!!!"

*New Spell: HARM

"From my angle your dice are very sparkly."

Mustach Shaming

"ARE YOU WATCHING YASHA?!"

"I'm a one wolf wolf pack"

The cast making their own music when it crashed

Otis and Veth fighting over hiding behind Fjord and ending up stacking on top of each other

*Jester casting HEAL on Fjord

Gelidon fleeing but the Nein STILL fight chasing her

Yasha’s lance

Comedic timing on Beau getting smacked with the tail

Snow angel landing

Fjord's little public kiss plus Jester’s and Veth chat: "That was the first time..."

Curtain of fire so Jester can 'pee', then Sending while actually peeing.

Roll for bags

*Tiger Blood gift from Veth resulting in a Matt Mercer gigglefit

Dagen headed off to meet Essek

Mind Palace Forest

Essek = Distant twinkling star of safety and familiarity WILDMOM APPROVED

Double Commune

ARTIE!!! All that sass and beautifully, perfectly useless

Laura's dinosaur sweater and Marisha assuming the chair perched pose

FRUMPKIN'S MISSION IMPOSSIBLE

THEY MIGHTY NEINED US

Stealth Team Owls GO

Clutch Caduceus perception with Beau’s goggles

Cool Monk Shit

Zorgon

Taliesin arguing about Lucien's bloodhunter abilities

*Owl!Yasha diving and saving Beau right out of Lucien's literal grip

'Arms of the Angels' sung for the second time

Lucien vs Caduceus

Matt freaking out over how much damage Lucien did or could have done to Caduceus: Shit got real after that

Stress Level Midnight on the party and cast during the standoff

Referencing Campaign One in a time of severe stress: Raishan Fight after Thordak Fight when most of Vox Machina was Level 16 and two characters were killed

Referencing the Home Game in a time of severe stress

F U B A R (for those who are unfamiliar FUBAR is an anagram that stands for 'Fucked Up Beyond All Reason')

Being able to tell how stressful the situation is by how hard the cast gets on hammering the rules and strategy

"Thats Matt being worried for us as friends..."

YASHA’S CLUTCH WING BAMF

Veth's Phantasmal Force spell and Caduceus' Shield of Retribution

"We're together now. No matter what happens at least we're together."

Matt's "Oh God" whenever he knocks over a mini

COUNTERSPELL COUNTERSPELL COUNTERSPELL

Mammoth Owl Halfling Padlock mad dash retreat

The anti-magic cone barely hitting the mammoth's butt

Major Image Gelidon

The whole party's new hatred for Otis

"Twig boy in a barbarian's arms..."

THEY LIVED

*Empire Kids managed to keep their aquired Eyes secret from Lucien

NUMBER CHECKED OFF ON MANIFEST LIST: 6.5

I'm only gonna count the breakfast 'Om nom noms' as a half cause it wasn't described what was for breakfast beyond the waffles

Jester casting HEAL on Fjord and Owl!Yasha saving Beau both count towards ship partners protecting each other in battle

I called that fucking dragon. But I pretty much have had dragon on the manifest list for awhile...

HARM is technically a 6th level spell but it can be cast as a 7th so I'm counting it.

Holy heck what an episode. . .

. . .

Hey. . . hey you guys. . . Guess where we're going?

Vurmas Outpost

Dare I hope. . . Dare I dream. . .

#critical role #d&d shenanigans #the mighty nein #campaign 2 #d&d #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #cr liveblogging #c2e123 #cr highlights #highlights #highlights of the night #my jaw hurts from grinding my teeth #i've aged forty years in the last few hours #god i love these adorable maniacs #kudos to matt mercer for being a true dm

[nevertherose]

One Hundred Seconds to Midnight: Chapters 1-8

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

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

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

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

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

But I wanted it to exist here as well.

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

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

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

One Hundred Seconds to Midnight

Chapter 1- The Eleventh Hour

“Who are you?”

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

Midnight.

The witching hour.

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

It was nearly midnight on the Imagination’s border.

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

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

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

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

But not tonight.

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

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

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

That was the only reason Roman kept looking back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He liked to think he was handsome.

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

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

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

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

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

Roman had only been planning this for weeks.

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

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

Logan adjusted his glasses.

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

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

“Ah ha, here we are!”

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

The nerd did not disappoint.

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

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

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

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

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

Usually, it was an emotion.

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

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

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

Roman had to bite back an ecstatic giggle.

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

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

…and then some.

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

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

How could he not?

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

But now?

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

And then these last few months had happened.

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

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

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

He knew he needed to be better.

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

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

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

Chapter 2- Human Nature

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman screamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He cleared his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course I am right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan glanced down at himself for the first time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yet somehow my hands just…know.”

Roman leaned casually onto the console.

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

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

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

It had proven useful so far, after all.

Roman shot Logan a fierce grin.

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

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

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

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

Chapter 3- The Witch’s Familiar

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

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

He sighed, and dismissed his drink.

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

Well. It was what he had.

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

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

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

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

“Patton?” Janus whispered.

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

Janus drew in a sharp breath.

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

To learn their arguing styles, of course.

Not because he had any desire to join those discussions.

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

That wasn’t really the issue.

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

That was cruel. That was insulting.

It was too far, even for Remus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should Janus say something?

Would Patton believe him if he did?

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

But Janus, well.

Janus was still a liar.

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

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

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

So.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Patton trailed off.

“Fragmented? Chaotic? Disturbing?” Janus supplied.

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

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

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

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

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

Janus bit back a smile.

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

Patton ducked his head.

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

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

Damn it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And whose TARDIS is this?

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

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

Too dark, too full of shadows.

An awful suspicion rose up in his mind.

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

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

It was a sonic laser.

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

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

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

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

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

Patton’s heavy footsteps clattered behind him.

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

Janus whirled, lips curled in a snarl.

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

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

“Clearly, I am the Master.”

Chapter 4- Nightmare in Silver

“You think he knows what he’s doing?”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.”

Patton rested his arms against the console and sighed.

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

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

Janus stalked past again, grumbling to himself.

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

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

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

Silence.

Patton didn’t know what Janus was expecting.

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

They’d see straight through it.

“It takes a liar to know a liar.”

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

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

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

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

“What are you, a middle school librarian?”

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

The screen burst into static.

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

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

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

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

Patton was trying.

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

Janus wasn’t evil.

He never had been.

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

They all did.

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

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

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

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

He would not make those mistakes again.

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

Patton had to believe that.

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

The screen in Janus’s hands cleared to reveal…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman’s face reappeared, solemn and deeply annoyed.

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

“Very reassuring,” Janus quipped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 5- The Long Game

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

Logan sighed.

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

“Remus,” Roman hissed.

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

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

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

Roman made a sound of disgust deep in his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it was the stress, or the unfamiliar environment.

Or maybe it was the Rose Tyler outfit.

That skirt ought to be illegal.

Logan deliberately focused on the screen, his cheeks warm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan bit back a sigh.

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

#

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

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

“Patton asked for my opinion!”

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

Silence.

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

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

“I didn’t make him take it!”

Deceit sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

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

Logan bit his lip.

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

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

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

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

A strange thought entered Logan’s mind.

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

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

“Well…” Logan trailed off, troubled.

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

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

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

Deceit had laughed then, high pitched and bitter.

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

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

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

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

“Deceit—” Logan started.

“Janus.”

“What?”

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

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

Self-preservation.

“It suits you,” Logan said quietly.

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

“Thank you.”

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

Janus looked at him intently.

“Let me speak to them as you.”

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

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

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

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

Janus snorted.

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

Logan shrugged uncomfortably.

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

Logan pursed his lips.

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

“I didn’t have your blessing.”

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

Logan stared at it, torn.

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

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

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

Those were just the facts.

Janus sighed.

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

He offered his now bare hand to Logan again.

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

“Please,” was all he said.

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

#

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

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

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

As Logic, Logan needed to remember that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The scans pulled up nothing.

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

Janus grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “lucky”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a beat of silence.

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

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

Surely not.

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

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

Remus giggled as Logan exchanged a shocked look with Roman.

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

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

“Roman, what—” Logan started.

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

This he roared at the screen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 6- Asylum of the Daleks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Logan probably could.)

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

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

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

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

Roman folded his arms, stung.

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

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

Logan sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman covered his mouth to keep from snorting.

The snake would not make him laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They turned their forward face to the four again.

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

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

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

“But that was just Daleks!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did Patton even realize what he’d almost done?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman huffed, and looked away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if we refuse?” Roman said evenly.

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

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

The alien Janus shrugged, spreading their hands.

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

“Is that so.”

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

There was a shocked silence…but no retaliation.

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

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

“Roman,” Logan warned quietly, pointing.

Roman looked.

The white Dalek’s shell was…laughing?

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

Each word bit like sandpaper against Roman’s ears.

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

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

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

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

“Why must you make everything difficult?”

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

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

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

“You’re lying,” Roman said tonelessly.

Remus’s whiny voice grew hard.

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

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

“How are you so sure?” Roman frowned.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t call him that,” Roman spat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman slammed the Dalek shell against the floor.

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

Like looking in a funhouse mirror…

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

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

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

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

“They will prevent—” the Janus started.

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

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

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

Patton hesitantly raised a hand.

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

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

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

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

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

Whereas Janus…probably did.

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

Typical Deceit. Protecting his lies.

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

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

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

There was a push, and they were falling.

Chapter 7- Oxygen

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

“Space doors are supposed to go shuk shuk.”

“Are you gonna be like this all day?”

Janus was done.

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

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

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

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

He hoped it was Patton.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say, what do snowmen call their offspring?”

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

“I haven’t the faintest.”

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

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

“‘Do you smell carrots?’”

Janus quickly covered his mouth.

“You smiled,” Patton crooned.

“I most certainly did not.”

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

“Who’s there?” Janus said flatly.

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

“Snow who?”

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

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

“I am not smiling, how dare you.”

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

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

Liar.

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

Too soon.

Liar.

Too much history between them.

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

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

Patton seemed disinclined to continue his little pun war.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They reached the pod.

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

Janus set a hand on the ice-crusted latch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

“What did the hat say to the scarf?”

Patton turned his black Cyberman eyes on Janus.

“What?”

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

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

Janus pulled out his sonic laser.

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

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

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

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

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

Janus could answer that…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janus huffed.

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

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

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

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

“Remus, for god’s sake,” he grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janus frowned.

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

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

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

“That’s the idea, Double Dee!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He gestured irritatedly around them.

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

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

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

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

Janus raised an eyebrow.

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

Janus swallowed, his heart starting to pound.

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

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

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

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

Patton sighed, long and deep.

“Touché.”

Chapter 8- Extremis

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

Logan awoke to someone shaking him.

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

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

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

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

“Where are my glasses?”

Roman was quiet.

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

“Roman?” Logan tried again.

“Um. About that.”

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

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

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

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

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

Logan tilted his head and frowned.

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

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

“How long have you been trying?”

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

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

Stubborn fool.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it…working?” Logan asked.

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

“Where else could one possibly be grounded?”

Roman laughed outright at this.

“Oh, Logan. Never change, okay?”

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

“Where are we?” Logan asked, squinting.

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

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

“Don’t panic, okay?” Roman started.

Logan scoffed.

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

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

Oh. Logan swallowed.

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

Roman snorted.

“Copper domes? Jeesh, your eyesight sucks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They dodged around it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Roman,” Logan started.

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

The Dalek rolled toward them creakily. “EEEEEGGS!”

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

“EG…EG-EGGS…TERM…”

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

“…IN…ATE…”

Blurry, flashing lights closed in.

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

“EX…TERM…IN…ATE!”

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

“EXTERMINATE!”

A blaster bolt warbled past and exploded over their heads.

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

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

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

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

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

They reached a wall and Roman shoved Logan down.

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

Bless that Prince and his stupid, stupid bravery.

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

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

Roman thunked his head back.

“Jesus Christ Superstar,” he muttered.

“Your welcome.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me, the WHAT?” Logan exclaimed.

No answer.

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

Nothing.

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

“That dick,” Roman grumbled through gritted teeth.

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

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

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

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

The lights flared back to normal.

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

Nothing.

“What was that?” he asked softly.

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

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

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

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic #ts fanfiction #doctor who #thomas sanders #canon compliant #action #adventure #romance #roman sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #ts sides #ts roman #ts logan #ts deceit #ts patton #ts remus #ts virgil #logince #moceit #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #bickering #enemies to friends #rivals to lovers

[jaskiersbeloved]

if you can hold me like you used to (cause I never hated myself more)

summary: Virgil has a nightmare. But it isn’t his.

authors note: I really wasn't planning on the second part, but you guys convinced me! I hope I've managed to meet your expectations! The title is a bit changed lyrics from cavetown's song "i promise, i'm trying"

tag list: @icequeenoriginal, @astrozei, @myspatialspace, @coconut-cluster

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He felt like he was in the void. Void filled with sharp thornes of the roses, that he so loved. But the buds of the flowers where nowhere to be seen. Just the thornes, that ripped through his white robes, got caught in his hair, made his hands bleed.

The sword seath was empty, so he couldn't cut his way through.

He needed something to protect himself. An armour. A shield. Anything. But all he got were his own bare hands, that the thornes would ruthlessly cut through, leaving the bloody scratches on them.

But that wasn't the worst.

Though he wished it could be silent, eveytime a thorn has cut his skin, the wind would softly blow and whisper in his ear.

The voices would be different, but the message would still be the same.

That would be an amazing prank.

Cut.

Because Roman would make ya sick.

Cut.

I wouldn't know who the evil twin is.

Cut.

Tears have been falling from his face, while he was willing the voices to leave him alone.

But deep down he knew they were right.

He stopped abruptly, looking helplessly at his bloody hands. The voices were louder now.

I am not feeling any love OR misery!

He scoffed, hearing his own voice.

Back then he thought he would at least keep it in check. Or that maybe someone would react. But well. No-one did. So maybe he hid it well or maybe...

The thornes around him grew. They started to inch closer to him, as if fed by his own selfhatred.

How pathetic, he couldn't help but think. And yet, he didn't react.

He felt tired. Exhausted even.

Your big admission is dwarfed by your gargantuan failures.

Failure. That's what he is.

The thornes were now at his legs, slowly winding around them.

It hurt. He knew it hurt but he felt numb to it.

Let's talk about something we're both familiar with, Roman. Mistakes.

He sobbbed. The tears were falling to the ground.

So many mistakes he has made.

Maybe that's why they didn't need him?

The throny vices encircled him higher and higher, creating a sharp cocoon around him. The thorns were piercing him, little by little. But it didn't matter. Nobody would led him a helping hand right now. He has hurt too many to be even worthy of that.

So he let the vice grow. Maybe like that he'll finally rest. Maybe like that he finally won't hurt anyone.

The vices grew.

Virgil woke up with a start. He was breathing hard, so hard that it took him a few precious seconds to calm down and realize where he was and what has actually happened.

This wasn't his dream. That he was sure of. And he knew, who dreamed about it and has woken up as well. He could practically fell his anxiety through the door.

Virgil sighed.

Roman hasn't left his room since the last video. He allowed almost nobody to enter. The only person who could was Virgil, for what reason, he wasn't sure. Maybe because he was the first one to reach out to Roman after he sunk out?

But the creative side wasn't the only one who preferred staying in the room in the past few days. If Virgil were to be honest, he would say, that almost every side opted to not leave. Everyone avoided each other like the plague.

On the few rare occasions on which Virgil noticed any of them, they looked awful. Logan seemed tired. Patton had constant red rings around his eyes, probably from crying and he were always chewing on his lips. Virgil haven't seen either Janus or Remus, but he felt their anxiety as well.

All in all, everyone was a mess.

He lifted his covers and left the bed.

The nightmare worried him.

When a side was particularly anxious, Virgil could feel it. But when the anxiety was so hard that it caused the given side to have nightmares, it sometimes would manifest itself in Virgil's dreams.

That's exactly what happened now. And Virgil didn't like what he saw. Not even a little bit.

Quietly he opened the door to his room and stepped into the hallway.

He anxiously ran a hand through his hair, thinking.

Promise me...

Roman still didn't promise. And in the nightmare he had actually given up. And Virgil just... Had to check.

So he mustered whatever courage he had and walked straight to Roman's room.

Walking there, he couldn't help but notice how the hallway, and the Mind Palace itself, have changed.

Before the video it was warm, bright and welcoming, giving the familish, safety vibes, that Roman and Patton represented. After it , it looked more gloomy, cold and unwelcoming. Virgil couldn't help but wonder if that was because the two sides were so down recently.

Stopping in front of the door, he took in a big breath. His anxiety spiked.

What if Roman wouldn't want to talk with him? What if he wouldn't open the door? What if...

He has to try. For Roman's sake.

So he rose his hand and gently knocked.

The door flew open almost immediately, startling Virgil. But what it reviled, made his heart clench.

Roman were lying on the bed, curled in himself, just like he did, when he first came to check on him. His hands were in his hair, gripping it so hard that Virgil actually worried he'd rip them off. No sound escaped the side. The only thing that gave him away were his shaking shoulders.

"So you saw, huh?" he heard Roman's murmer. The side didn't even look at him. He just started blankly into the distance.

Virgil stepped into the room and quietly closed the door.

"Yeah" he said. Then after a moment he asked "Can I get closer?"

Roman shrugged.

"Sure. It's not like it matters anyways."

The bitterness in his voice caused the cleanch in Virgil's heart to grow stronger. He has never seen Roman in that state.

He sat at the edge of the bed.

He noticed the sash, that Roman used to wear, on the floor. Virgil furrowed his brows. The vibrant red was gone, replaced by a particulatly pale shade of pink. So pale, that it was almost white.

Virgil pressed his lips, trying to decide what to do.

While he himself wasn't a very touchy person, he knew Roman was. The creative side often needed to be touched to feel better. And though Virgil usually felt uncomfortable with that, he was willing to put his own feelings aside for Roman.

So he lifted his hand and started to rub comforting circles on Roman's back. It seemed to help a little, as the side's deathly grip on his hair eased up.

"How much have you seen?" Roman whispered, while still not looking at him. Virgil sighed. There's no point in lying now.

"I'm afraid that all of it" he admitted. Roman absentmindedly nodded his head.

"I see" he muttered. He let go of his hair to press them to his heart. "And what do you think about it?" he asked.

That I'm really worried about you, Virgil thought, but didn't dare to say this aloud. Roman was too deep into self-hatred right now. He'd take it as he was hurting Virgil because he dreamed about it and most likely use it to convince himself how bad of a person he was.

So Virgil just moved his hand up to the nape of Roman's head and started to comb through his hair.

"That you don't feel so good" he said, mentally cringing at how lame this had sound. Roman chuckled, but there was no humour behind it.

"You think?" he scoffed, with an edge in his voice. Virgil only pressed his lips.

For a moment there was only silence around the two of them. Finally Roman spoke up.

"I'm so tired, Virgil."

"I know" he said sadly.

"And you know... I just... Want to disappear. To finally rest."

Hearing that, Virgil tensed.

How did you duck out?

Promise me...

The echoes of their past conversation rang in his ears.

"Ro," he started, forcing himself to sound calmly. "you know you can't do it."

"And why not, Virgil!?" Roman suddenly snapped sitting up and finally turning to him.

Virgil muffled a gasp that almost escaped him when he saw Roman's face.

Skin pale, red-rimmed eyes and bags under them so dark, that they could rival his own.

"Why not!? I HAVE a replacement, you know! I have a twin, who would HAPPILY take my place! I am expendable! A failure! The one that makes a mistake after mistake and simply cannot seem to learn from them!"

Angry tears started to fall down from Roman's face as he screamed. He hid his face in his hands, making a strangled sound.

"You're not expandable" said Virgil, feeling his heart breaking a little, seeing his... His friend so devastated. "Nor are you replaceable."

Roman scoffed.

"Oh really?" he said bitterly. "How so? Because my ideas are flawless? Or maybe because my opinions are valued? So much that everyone would listen to them and actually take into consideration, huh?"

"Because you're you!" Virgil yelled back, shocking Roman into silence. The creative side dropped his hands, looking at him, startled. Virgil sighed.

"Roman" he began slowly, thinking about the next words he should use.

This was his moment to convince Roman to calm down and to start regaining his confidence. And Virgil will be damned if he fucks it up.

He looked Roman straight in the eyes and has put one hand over his heart.

"Trust me, when I tell you this. You are not expendable. Nor you are replaceable. You are Thomas' creativity. His passion. You influence his happiness. It's you who drag him into the stage. Who makes him believe in himself. It's you who caused him to create his vines and his YouTube videos, against my judgment." He smiled softly at the memory of this, before continuing. " It's you who helps to create drafts for the episodes, who comes up with the themes. Who pushes Thomas through every audition, who comes up with alternative ways to his ideas. That cannot be replaced, Ro."

Roman was shaking. Virgil could only hope it was because of emotions. And those good ones.

Suddenly a phrase from the dream rang in his ears.

Lend him a helping hand.

With one hand still pressed to his chest, he extended his other one torward Roman in an offering gesture.

"If... If you feel like you want to disappear, please, come to me, Ro. I can help. You deserve the help, okay? It doesn't make you weak or stupid. It's actually very smart and shows your strength. That you know that there's something wrong and that..." he stopped, seeing as Roman tried to avert his gaze. He couldn't let that happen.

Virgil let go of his chest in favour of gently putting two fingers under Roman's chin to turn his head in his direction. He smiled weakly, seeing the side's teary eyes. He used his thumb to gently wipe the ones that escaped and continued. "...and that you are brave enough to fight. Smart enough to ask for help, when you see there's something wrong going on with you. It doesn't make you a failure. Never ever that. It makes you a victor. Because it's a victory against self-hatred, Ro. A small one, but it's still a victory. And when you decide to go to fight with that, and trust me, it's going to be a long war, you're not going to be alone."

He stopped thinking back to the dream.

He needed something to protect himself. An armour. A shield.

"I will be your shield, Roman" he said and Roman actually gasped. He started to shake his head, but Virgil pressed on "Because you deserve one."

"But... I have hurt you in the past! So how can you..."

At that Virgil has actually smiled.

"Because, and listen to this carefully, Romano, you regretted it and you made a conscious effort to improve. I told you earlier, I have noticed the effort that you try to dial down your insults and they are more playful, than anything else now. And if you could do that then, you still can do that now. You are a good person, Roman. A good person, who, yes, has made some mistakes but is able to recognize them, apologize and is willing to improve. And that's what makes you different from Remus. That son of a..."

"Language" Roman muttered weakly. Virgil playfully rolled his eyes.

"That... Side never even apologised to you for smacking you with a mace from all of things. And honestly I cannot imagine Remus apologizing to anyone. Plus imagine how the Imagination would look like if Remus took the wheel."

Roman immediately shuddered at the thought, which made Virgil's lips quirk up. He was on the right path. So when Roman shook his head, trying to say something, Virgil didn't let him.

"And I know that you are confused because of the last video. Yes, Patton can be wrong, but that doesn't make him wrong about everything. And you have the qualities of the prince, Ro. You are good. You are kind. Just. Strong. Brave. And above all, you are loved. We all miss you."

During the conversation, Virgil inched a bit closer to Roman, and finally they were touching by their foreheads, which made both of the sides blush a bit because of the intimacy of the gesture.

The last sentences, Virgil whispered.

"All of us. Absolutely every single one. Patton worries about you so much. Logan as well, and yes I am sure of that, because he was the one who informed me first. Talk to them if you don't believe me. I assure you, they will agree with me." He took a shuddering breath. Now or never. "So, Roman... Take my hand. And I'll help you. I promise" he finished and held his breath.

For a long, scary moment Roman was just staring at him, teary eyed. His breathing grew quicker. But as Virgil was about to accept his defeat, suddenly one of Roman's hands shot up and grasped his extended one. The creative side used it as a leverage to pull Virgil closer and he hid his face in the crook of his neck.

"Please" he whined with a broken voicr, scooting himself closer to the anxious side. "Please, help me."

At that Virgil started to sob as well. He used is unoccupied hand to encircle them in a hug and enterwinded their fingers with the one that Roman held in his grip. He hid his face in Roman's hair and sighed.

He won this battle. He actually did it.

"I promise" he whispered. "I promise, I will."

And even though Roman still didn't promise him that he won't duck out, Virgil felt somewhat calmer. Because now...

Now there was some hope.

On the floor, the sash gained colours.

#it might be a bit ooc #i'm sorry for that :/ #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #sanders sides #sanders side fic #sanders sides spoilers #ts spoilers #sonia tries to write

[child-of-addiction]

Dear dad,

Did you know that I still have dreams about you leaving without a word because you resent me?

Dear dad,

Did you know that you could have been charged by court for child abuse?

Dear dad,

Did you know that for most for my teenage years, I couldn’t remember what you were like sober?

Dear dad,

Did you know that I could never understand what a father figure was?

Did you know that it too me 23 years to figure out what that was?

I used to think it was something that just existed on TV, inside the home with a green lawn and a white picket fence.

Dear dad,

Did you know that for most of my life I tried to prove that I needed you?

I know now that I did

I know now that I the importance of a male figure

As much as a mother can teach and look after, a father has a role too

I know now that I never felt as though there were strong arms run to

Is that why I never feel safe to this day?

I know now why kids go ‘watch me daddy!’

I know now that a father reassures differently to a mother

That they are strong, stable, encouraging and give you something to aspire towards

Dear dad,

Do you know the difference between dominant and dominating

You tried to build a home but instead built a palace

Flaming from the fuel of your alcohol

Your Queen slowly losing her mind

Your Princess never who she wanted to be

Your Prince crippled by expectation

Dear dad,

Did you know you were once my role model

I always knew that nicks was your successor

But I still wanted to be like you

Despite how much that hurt

Dear dad,

You say we felt like we weren’t enough

Because we weren’t trying enough

Tell me, were you there to see our efforts

Were you there to find our strengths and weaknesses

Did you comfort us when we cried from pressure

Did you find our books lying on the desk after an all nightery

Dear dad,

You have no right to say who we are

Who we were

Because you were never around to find out

I finally figured out that abstract expectation we felt from you

As kids, we couldn’t really produce a physical manifestation of success

That expectation was for you to look our way

Dear dad,

We appreciate all that your have done for us

For working so hard

For teaching us what you did

For all of the opportunities you provided

For your help during the harder times

Dear dad,

We aren’t insensitive to your childhood

We couldn’t possible imagine the struggles

We know you had absent parents

And were thrown in deep end

When I was growing

As different as I am

But there are ways to learn

You didn’t have to handle it in the blind

I always thought a parents strive not to make the same mistakes as their parents

Was I wrong?

#venting #my story ~~ #Father

[thefadedremnant]

PK as I read him really is, kind of an enormous mess. He exhibits symptoms of anxiety, depression, and in general is very prone to obsessive thinking about perfection and restless energy. The manifestation of the White Palace we see in-game is, to my eye, a manifestation of his thought processes and patterns, and what it is, is a ruthless and punitive labyrinth, but one that has this illusion of grace, serenity, tranquility.

It’s very much a mentality of false fairness- that these narrow passages of metal blades is totally safe for someone who is one with the inexorable rhythm they keep, who moves, halts, carries themselves “properly” at exactly the right timing. When the reality is, even the most consummate perfectionist can’t do that reliably, not all the time, especially not when they’re tired or exhausted or sad.

And then in the more inhabited regions, or ones that imply habitation, there’s the unnerving echoes of the Retainers, who are so subservient, so helpful, in a way that makes them inaccessible; the only way you can really ‘get help from them’ is by using them.

It’s the existence of a lonely creature that completely firmly believes himself not suffering. He hasn’t been hurt, and he isn’t hurting himself, and from this perspective he’s pretty much lost empathy for other people’s pain in large ways. It’s the coexistence of “why should they be kept safe from pain? I wasn’t,” with a basic denial that he’s hurting at all, so basically a lot of his thinking is built on these scaffold layers of both denial, and obliviousness. Lurien’s request hits him in the ribs because he hasn’t actually considered the idea that he’s unhappy. 

It doesn’t seem like something relevant to think about, he has so many other things that are more important than emotional health check-ins, but, if confronted, he actually stops and has to think- is he happy?

Because the actual answer is ‘no’. Not often, and not for a long time. He permits the indulgence of being proud of his work, things he feels like he can justify, but, for the architect of a lot of other people’s suffering, it seems pretty clear that PK himself was... just kind of a lonely, empty person. Less in the way of someone who is a helpless victim, and, more in the way of someone who believes the world is already as it should- who actually struggles to imagine the idea of a situation where he isn’t unhappy, if he can even reliably pencil that in as his emotional state.

The game repeatedly questions PK- did he care? What were other people to him? Did he trust them, or believe in them at all, or were they pawns, or toys? His total collapse after sacrificing Hollow and his unwillingness to face the Abyss / that even the people who knew he was doing dirty business, like Ogrim, weren’t told the full extent of it, suggests he wasn’t unemotional about it, but I don’t think that’s just, “oh, so he DID care, case closed!”

It implies something deeply dysfunctional in the shining clockworks that PK, as someone who cared, made a decision that paradoxically required him to care and not care at the same time; that he completely misjudged his creations’ emotional state, that all of his kids are carrying the aftershocks of this broken relationship PK has with feeling, with caring, with being allowed to care, and this brokenness is a demon that rears its head over and over and over again in the cruelest things PK does to other people.

I think of PK as a villain, really- but a tragic villain, and, part of the conceit of this blog and its AU is contemplating the long hard road of the guy becoming a better person. Which leads to the very exciting situation of- it’s not punishment or angst that I specifically chose this guy to have the problem with the Void that he does.

The Void, throughout the game, is conflated repeatedly with rest, acceptance, and reaching a state of peace. Radiance, who basically spends the entire game psychically screaming about how she’s going to live forever so loudly that it’s progressively killing and reanimating everything in Hallownest, is the most opposed to the Void, and because she’s created no path for peace with it, is ultimately ripped apart by it in spectacularly violent fashion. The only way rest and acceptance can come to a furious warmonger who has decided they will never calm down is in the form of a dominating force that crushes them down into silence.

PK’s not Radiance, but, in a way, he exists in a state of false concord to the Void- he uses it and exploits it, makes his own works out of it, but the reality is his state of composure and control is fake, and maintained by dumping endless amounts of refuse down to the Abyss, shoving it into the darkness so he can shine as a perfect, ‘unstained’ thing. 

Achieve a pure existence by getting rid of everything holding you back. This only sounds like a good idea if you don’t think any of those pieces of yourself have any value, and the things PK sees as holding him back from his work aren’t things like “being afraid of pain and death”, “caring about other people’s life and suffering” or “maintaining interpersonal connections at all.”

It’s not a coincidence in this AU that this manifests as a festering hole in his heart, and, I think, not a coincidence that Radiance, who manipulates desires and requests, failed to get a grip on PK. When Radiance’s domain is the heart, PK idealized a state of heartlessness and tried to live without it. He’s the more extreme state of how, at the very beginning of the game, when Elderbug says “maybe dreams aren’t such a good thing after all,” we pull a breath through our teeth because okay, yeah, if something’s mind controlling people through their dreams, that’s one way, we guess, to get away from it, but genuinely not wanting or hoping for anything is completely unsustainable for a person to exist. We NEED to be motivated by at least SOMETHING.

PK at this point is not really being killed by the Void as much as he’s being killed by his inclination to hollow himself out- and the Void is just what rushes to fill the gap.

#Law { headcanon } #readmore

[mbtiofwhys]

Takuto Maruki

INFJ

Functional Order: Ni - Fe - Ti - Se

Spoiler warning

This article will contain spoilers about the main plot of the game and Maruki’s confidant, as a way to provide the most comprehensive analysis.

Perceiving Functional Axis

Introverted Intuition (Ni) / Extroverted Sensing (Se) 

Maruki is a pivotal character in Persona 5 Royal, with a complex and well-written personality. As an INFJ, Maruki lives following a clear goal envisioned by his dominant Ni. Even if it may seem unbalanced at first, Maruki’s perceiving axis is a developed one, since a common problem regarding immature Ni revolves around the inability to give purpose to one’s life with a concrete project in mind. Maruki, however, knows precisely what he wants and how to gain it, thus he’s able to take advantage of the vacant spot left after Jaldaboath’s defeat as a tool to realize his vision. Dominant Ni discards data provided by Se in order to build a sound visualization of a feasible future scenario. Maruki, in fact, isn’t a daydreamer stuck in a loop of unattainable results, he’s rather aware of how his vision will affect both him and the world, as well as other people. Letting Rumi behind and sacrificing a peaceful reality where he’ll be satisfied with his life is just a step to shape a better reality for everyone. 

Rumi needs further attention because, as always, cognition must be separated from behaviours and past traumas. So, regarding Maruki, it’s clear how his relationship with Rumi influenced his vision of the the world and how it affected him emotionally. At the same time, Maruki isn’t trapped in a loop where he disconnects from reality following a distorted dream. Rumi isn’t part of the equation, Maruki surely holds her memory dear but he goes beyond his grief to build a better world. He experienced directly the pain he sees in other people which is, ultimately, what really moves him forward.

Maruki’s Ni is balanced by a solid inferior Se. Usually, young or immature Ni dom users suffer of inaction or passiveness, they set unrealistic goals, they don’t plan a realistic and step-by-step plan to realize their dreams. Maruki is the opposite: he is well aware of his potential, and knowing what he can achieve he envisions a feasible reality. Maruki doesn’t aim to rebuild society from its very foundations, he rather tries to create a new scenario through a series of concrete actions. In short, he doesn’t start from zero, he corrects what (in his opinion) needs to be adjusted - a much more realistic approach to fixing problems compared to what is generally the ‘ultimate plan’ of other villain masterminds.

During the game Maruki is always focused on the future, not in a cliché way but with a practical approach to problems: he has a power he doesn’t clearly understand yet and he knows how this source may lead him to a future scenario similar to the one he dreams about, thus he follows little steps to reach it. Maruki does it by interacting with the Phantom Thieves, in this way he’s able to gain knowledge about the Metaverse and, at the same time, receives feedbacks through counseling sessions, thus constantly reshaping his utopia. 

Judging Functional Axis

Extroverted Feeling (Fe) / Introverted Thinking (Ti)  

Maruki is so focused on other’s needs he falls in a savior complex. He doesn’t limit to mourning Rumi or helping others through normal counselling, rather he constantly harbors a deep desire to help others, no matter who they are. This is a clear sign of high Fe: Maruki doesn’t fight for a single cause, a specific belief, he instead does what he considers the best for everyone. Maruki sees the world as a place full of people where everyone should be happy. He hasn’t a deep bond with Sumire when he starts to help her, he simply cares for her since she’s a human being undergoing a tremendous trauma. This is an approach based on objective feelings, on shared wellness, on preserving social harmony and thus allowing people to be happy together.

Maruki is Shujin’s counselor, however he still overthinks his actions and words because he fears to break the emotional environment. Even while talking with students his focus is clearly centered on other people and their well-being, he puts his needs aside and do his best to soothe their pain.

Maruki’s Fe is what aids his vision. As we stated above he has the power to shape reality almost as he wants, this is where the auxiliary function comes into play: the reality envisioned by Maruki is a summary of his philosophy, a world where no one suffers, where people experience joy and happiness. As a human being with high Fe Maruki cares for the emotional atmosphere of his surrounding. As a counselor he extended this to a whole school and as a persona user he went even further, trying to nurture society as a whole. 

His Fe is thus balanced with tertiary Ti. This function can be seen in his methodical approach to problems: he has a vision (Ni) related to people’s wellness (Fe) and he implements it through a logical and rational approach. Maruki’s Palace isn’t a mere cognitive expression of his personality and inner self, it’s also an organized clinic with specialized staff, rules, routines, areas dedicated to specific tasks, all of this with a focus on people: rooms have an aseptic white appearance, they are spacious and designed to be comfortable - in sharp contrast with the storage and monitoring areas, which aren’t meant to be seen by visitors. Since a Palace is by definition the manifestation of their ruler’s deside it’s safe to assume that it simply reflects Maruki’s methodical and rational approach to tasks, even considering smaller details. Ti is a function based on building a subjective (since it’s introverted), rational system as a tool to solve problems. Maruki applies this tool to solve intangible problems tied to the realization of a future where everyone can experience only positive feelings (Ni and Fe).

Ti manifests itself more clearly during the Phantom Thieves’ infiltration in the Palace. Here they discover how Maruki planned a system based on happiness recognition: people must take choices and if one fails it has to be rehabilitated. So, Maruki organises reality with a people-based approach followed by a more rational one, a single algorithm used to decode every possible scenario (in this case, every person) through a specific process.

#persona 5 #p5 #persona 5 royal #p5r #takuto maruki #maruki #maruki takuto #mbti #mbti of whys #infj #ni dom #fe aux #ti tert #se inf #chtype:infj #chtype:takutomaruki #typology #fictional characters #character analysis #video games #video game characters #meta post

[lunarrwolf]

black butterflies [colby brock]

fandom: sam and colby/traphouse

pairing: colby x self

word count: 2,209

part(s): one two three

summary: after a prank gone wrong, colby and his friends meet another youtuber during her meet and greet in hopes it will cheer her up

A/N: this is a self-insert because it’s a fic that was started for my own personal pleasure. it was supposed to be shared last year on my fan account after a poll was done but never was bc i ended up not feeling ready to do so. i figured since i‘m ready to share it now, it would be best to do it here since it’s pretty detailed

THREE

By the time the pair reached their hotel on the west coast, the sky was significantly brighter than back home. While she loved the city that she frequently visited, she had to admit when the airplane reached its destination that Boston did not compare to the view that graced her. Palm trees, beaches and sunny skies greeted the two friends as they descended toward the runway of LAX that afternoon. Even the drive to the west coast Marriott location was a sight for sore eyes as the scenery blurred by with dozens of people walking the sidewalks and hundreds of restaurants and stores lining the street. Aiden won the competition of who could connect their music to the car’s stereo the fastest, playing indie music the whole ride. When they actually checked into the building, the walk and elevator ride consisted of a playful argument about who was going to get which bed. That was figured out quickly as Kirsy set her stuff on the floor of the shared room before throwing herself on the one next to the window.

After settling and calming themselves down, the close friends talked about what they could do first. However, she wasn’t feeling up to exploring right away. They’d only landed the night before and were now three hours behind their usual time. Jet lag wasn’t really at play since the difference didn’t mean much to someone who rarely slept anyway, but exhaustion was another thing entirely. The whole early morning was spent laying underneath the sheets

“You can’t lay here all day.”

“I beg to differ.” She rolled on her stomach from facing the ceiling, coming eye to eye with the rising musician. His hands were placed on his waist as he stared you down, to which she paid no mind because that was just how their relationship worked. “I just want to lay here in a room with an air conditioner and fantasize about people who don’t know I exist.”

Knowing exactly who she meant, Aiden raised an eyebrow, shifting his weight on one leg as he raised an eyebrow at her. “Please - that’s a cliche story that isn’t going to get you out of today’s plans.” The older of the two placed himself against the bed across from her, taking his hat off of his head to chuck it at the girl’s face. She let out a whine, sending him a glare that would send a fraction of shivers going on anyone else’s spine. The bemusement on the young man’s face was clear as day; they were in a busy city with long beaches and awe-striking sights and all she wanted to do was mope around on her phone.

He was going to have none of it.

It didn’t matter that one of their companions quit on them and the channel - this trip was about moving on, starting new chapters and showing everyone that she wasn’t as devastated as she made herself look on camera the other day. While he hadn’t known her as long, they were almost inseparable, and watching her delve into the nerves of walking around without the redhead was something he never thought he’d see. His friend needed someone to slap her out of this misery and drag her back into the world she lived in now; one of adventure and expanding the lack of social horizons. “Get your ass up, we’re going out.”

“What-” She glanced over at him, exasperation in her tone. “We landed in the state twelve hours ago. What exactly do you want to do at this hour?”

“It’s what I don’t want to do, and that’s be stuck in here until we have the meet and greet. Which is in a few hours,” he reminded her. He crossed the small room to fish the room key out of the side of his bag, glancing back to find her sitting up with a neutral expression on her face. He side swept her copy of the card onto the bed he gained in the race to the shared room, “Your body knows nothing about being put to rest for more than five hours. I’m sure it doesn’t register that you’ve changed time zones, so you have enough energy to be proactive.”

Kirsy stared at her friend blankly, shoving her hands in the pocket of her hoodie. She peeked down at the white and green piece of plastic sitting on the comforter, tempting her to join in on exploring the city. Which is what she should be doing, anyway.

For years, her mind had been plagued in the best way possible with dreams and manifestations of how her life would be if she was ever able to afford residency in California. The sandy beaches, clear skies, endless list of activities and shops, and modern beauty of such a popular location always drew her in. The plan was to save up and find a place with Casey, so ensuing on a trip that her eccentric friend insisted on doubling as an apartment search was tough for her. She got over situations very quickly - the events that unfolded about one week before were already shoved in the back of her mind as unnecessary but moral filled fog. People were harder to be rid of in the recesses. If someone was dear to her, she could live on as if they weren’t, though it wouldn’t be the case on the inside. Going out and enjoying herself didn’t sit right with the part of her that was stuck with the friendship that had a questionable ending.

The young adult kept an eye on the twenty-two year old as she seemed to be contemplating what she was going to do. He was going to drag her out to the elevator and out the doors either way. Still, it would be much more enjoyable of a break from reality if she was one hundred willing to partake in the adventure.

“How long are we staying again?” She looked up, meeting his gaze.

“I think four days. Unless we find a place, then we agreed to stay longer to sort everything out.”

“Okay.” With a defeated sigh she picked up the key and turned around to grab the small backpack she was able to carry on the flight over. Making her way to where Aiden patiently stood, she placed a small hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go find you a boyfriend, then.”

He shook his head, letting out an exasperated sigh that only received a grin in response before they opened the door.

-

“I’m pretty sure this counts as stalking.” The brunette looked over the shorter figure, giving him a look that the slightly older male dismissed with a gesture of surrender. “All I’m saying is that checking her story is a step above what a normal person would do.”

“You’re not normal.” He retorted, his previously blonde friend agreeing with no problem.

“I would hope not,” Sam exclaimed, putting his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket as he smiled at his exasperated friend, “it’s kind of my whole brand.”

Colby couldn’t come up with a clever comeback. Since seeing that the vlogger and streamer had landed, he’d been dragging his friends around the local spots of Downtown Los Angeles. The anxiety that riddled him was as much of a positive aspect as it could have been - it matched the feeling their subscribers and community members would react at their own chances of meeting the group of four boys and the girlfriends of three of them. He knew how much he was acting out of character, and yet he didn’t care. Both parties had been admiring the other for months at a time without notice. Well, he noticed hers because everything she had came from the makings of a fan account she created for him and his friends. The lack of responses and her comments and work being drowned out by the millions of other fans gave her the impression that he never saw her past being another face, even after her own social media standing took off.

Taking the past three years into consideration benefited both ends of this infatuation. After proving successful in her journey when able to attend a convention the year before, she hoped having the platform would bring more attention to her rising brand so she could get the chance to embarrass herself in person.

It was the opposite for Colby.

All he’d wanted since realizing he was starting to experience the way a lot of fans felt towards any member of the housemates was a chance to meet her face to face. Maybe the way she affected him was because her own emotions manifested onto him whenever he skimmed a caption on one of her editing account’s uploads or read some of the posts she would put up on social media about him. Surely that was the explanation for all of this.

Everyone knew he was tired of trying to find the person he was meant to be with in girls from the Bay Area. No one he’d ever been attracted to or tried to start a relationship with in his years of living here had shown potential. Los Angeles was a palace for people who did a lot of stunts and acted a certain way to get where they wanted to go in life, and that included who they would get involved with. It became too hard too quickly for him to figure out the intentions of the few he tried to get to know romantically, and so he gave up on dating in this part of the country. Part of him did anticipate that if it wasn’t going to be someone he would see on the internet or the feed of any social media accounts, it would be someone from the family they’d all built over time. It would be a girl that’s watched their videos and been with them for a while and knew the guys well enough just by observing and enjoying the content they were given. It was nerve racking to think that the person he should really be with was a fan, as they would all categorize themselves as. So since he started being the one to keep an eye out for announcements and new content when it came to Kirsy, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to believe it - he just couldn’t.

How would this girl who proclaimed herself a fangirl half the time - a girl who photoshopped images, created videos and made storylines for everyone to read - possibly be the one who took his heart and made it beat such a way? It just didn’t make sense.

Yet here he was, blindly following her updates along with any other local subscriber of hers to see if she would be going anywhere he could bump into her, his friends following along because they knew what was going on and wanted to be there for support. Having known him since they were in their early teenage years, Sam had every inch of how his best friend reacted to liking someone planted in his brain. He mapped out the stages in his head when Colby started talking about the ‘new YouTuber that looked familiar and he could have sworn she went to their tour or passed by them at an event’. When those stages started to ring true, he filled in their other roommates who started to notice the constant mention of her name as well. They’ve all been there for him, hoping that he would just admit he fell for someone he’d never personally met or spoken to before.

One of the taller members of the foursome looked between the more sane companions, wanting to help their friend keep the confidence they all knew he had. “We should invite her and her friend to the Love For Hire party this weekend. She’s going to be here around then, right?”

Colby brought his attention to Jake, his curiosity peaking at the mention of their new boyband. They all met their girlfriends at parties, didn’t they? At least - that’s the way it was perceived in his head when the moments began to blur together. It seemed the connections for all of them were made when they all met the nights of, and that’s what he wanted. Perhaps the fact that the trio of couples all met for the first time at one of the Traphouse’s parties made him much more superstitious than he wanted or expected to be. Going to a small event meant for local fans of another content creator and using it to meet her himself right before they all invited her to their house for a party? How much of an ideal was that?

The more he thought about it as they walked down the sidewalks beside the beach, the more ridiculous he sounded. So what if this wasn’t an ideal situation? If whatever it was he felt was genuinely reciprocated, then he would approach it head on and take the risk of wooing someone from his creator community. If not, then he would have to learn to deal with that.

Although, something told him that all of this overwhelming emotion would be worth it.

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