#I’m also not the straightest person i could be so that’s a whole other thing

[almondcroissantsandink]

I’ll be back to the arcane sillies shortly but my government has been making me incredibly nervous and scared lately

[gay-dorito-dust]

Damian thinking he can cure depression and all of your negative mindsets by letting you cuddle and hug Bat-Cow.

He’d personally drag you all the way to the barn and then promptly point towards the half-awake cow lounging in the farthest corner and with the straightest face he says;

‘Hug the cow y/n.’

You’re confused, you’re depressed and have told him so in confidence, and here he was demanding that you cuddle up to the bovine, who was staring at you both with their dark eyes.

‘Why?’ You’d ask, eyes never leaving the cow and Damian sighs impatiently. ‘It’ll cure your current aliment of depression.’ He says with such certainty that you almost believed him for a minute…almost.

‘Damian this is stupid, even for you-‘ however before you could finish your sentence, Damian was already pushing you from behind towards Bat-Cow, who only watched as you were positioned into their warm side, silently chewing before becoming disinterested and went back to resting their head on the floor.

Bat-cow didn’t smell the greatest but then again…they were a fucking cow but they were warm and fluffy and comfortable, so much so that you ended up cuddling further into them found yourself falling asleep almost instantaneously with a small smile on your lips. ‘Good Bat-Cow…’ you murmur sleepily as the bovine only huffs out hot air, unfazed at you cuddling them as everyone from Damian to even Jason had come once in a while to cuddle up into their side.

Damian made a satisfied noise and was about to leave when he noticed that there was a space big enough for him to slot himself against Bat-Cow also. He shifts he gazed all across the entire barn, making sure he wasn’t being observed somehow, before cuddling himself into the side of the large animal.

Damian wouldn’t find out until way later that he was indeed being observed as he chased after Tim throughout the manor, sword in hand.

Jason who loves to cuddle you as though it’s been forever since you last saw each other.

(It had been five minutes max, you needed to piss.)

He’d even make it his personal mission to carry you in his arms anywhere and everywhere he went in the apartment. He will not hear the cliche ‘I’m too heavy’ bullshit excuse, let him carry you in his arms damn it! He wants to hold you! Do not reject him this golden opportunity!

He doesn’t care if anyone like Bruce, Dick or Roy are present because if anything it shows them that he had someone in his life that he loved and adored more than anything. Roy/Dick -mainly Dick- may tease him to high heavens about it but Jason only shrugs it off and says albeit childishly: ‘well at least I have someone to hold onto every night unlike you dickhead.’ Before casually carrying you into the kitchen with him to grab a drink.

(Remember that ‘Gator needs his gat, you punk ass bitch.’ tiktok Trend where ppl picks up their friend? Yh that’s what goes on in my head when writing this.)

Jason fears as though he’s not spending enough time with you. Which is bullshit because this man spends every waking moment with you being cute and loving and just the absolute best in general.

He’s not use to the whole relationship thing and he’s overthinking everything he’s doing and worries that it might be the breaking limit for you. So all you got to do is hold his face in your hands, rest your head against his own and reassure him that he was spending more than enough time with you. It’ll probably won’t get rid of the notion that he wasn’t doing enough for you out of Jason’s head, but at least it was something that he could be reminded of when he was getting too lost in his thoughts.

He’s a worrywart and a big one at that, but as long as you keep being his anchor, keep being the reason his head feels a lot clearer and so on, then Jason will gradually come to learn that he never needs to worry about anything when you’re more than happy to keep reminding him that it’s okay to worry, and that he wasn’t being suffocating or otherwise.

Jason maybe physically imposing and intimidating to look at for some people but to you, he was like those badly stereotyped big dogs that are the biggest sweethearts. Dogs such as:

Rottweilers

XL bully dogs

Pit bull

Doberman Pinscher and more.

He’s a sweetheart who just looks intimidating, nothing more nothing less…unless you happen to be a criminal then Jason is anything but the word sweet or adorable as they’re getting their asses beaten.💀

Dick always asks you if you still love him after every minor inconvenience.

It doesn’t matter what happens or how it happens, he always give you those puppy dog eyes of his and pouts his lips. ‘Do you still love me?’

‘Dick we’ve been through this before, of course I love you.’ You’d reply.

‘But you looked really annoyed right now and I just wanted to know if you still like me enough to date me.’ He then says as he rests his head on your shoulder, pressing himself against your back.

You sighed before looking over at him and pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. ‘Does that clear everything up for you?’ You asked rhetorically as Dick beamed brightly and stole a kiss from your lips, reinvigorated. ‘Yep.’ He’d respond before moving on with the rest of his day.

If you were to accidentally forget to kiss him good morning or before you were leaving for work, Dick would take full offence as he places himself in front of the door, arms crossed and lips formed into that pout you were more then familiar with at this point. ‘You hate me.’

‘Dick I’m in a hurry!’ You cry, looking at the time.

‘And you forgot my good morning kisses!’ He’d cry back at you and you would be several minutes late to work, all because you were making up for the misses kisses. You hate Dick sometimes but you knew you couldn’t be mad at him for long when he’d smother in kisses upon arriving him from work, so you guessed he could be given a pass…just this once.

[thanksjro]

Transformers Holiday Special (2015) — Wishing You and Yours a Delightfully Secular Wintertime, Containing Absolutely Zero References to the Birth of Christ

Despite what some might like to think, Christmas isn’t for everyone; even with all the commercialization, at its heart, it’s still about the Baby Jesus. You can tell that we haven’t shaken the Christian connection, because the cover for this special issue has the father, the son, and the holy spirit, which is hidden behind the company logo.

And if Rodimus doesn’t stop screwing around, his resurrection’s gonna have to happen a lot sooner than Easter.

Because this is a comic special, things are going to be a little different. Instead of one standard-size issue, we’re getting three mini-stories, each with their own writer (from each of the comic runs that were publishing at the time) and artist. Our stories are listed here:

Don’t worry about what Ultra Magnus is up to behind that text.

Now, you may ask, why on earth am I covering this issue, which is a specifically Christmassy one, now, when it’s not currently Christmas? Well, according to Roberts, the story “Silent Light” takes place after MTMTE #49, and #50 is when the crew manifest for the Lost Light gets shaved down some, so realistically, this is when “Silent Light” happens in continuity. So I want you to keep in mind that Getaway’s Christmas isn’t going so great.

I won’t be going back to catch up on the other runs’ plots, as the Christmas stories are stand-alone.

Getting into it, our first story is:

Penned by Mairghread Scott and drawn by Corin Howell. We open up on a cityscape featuring a happy sun and some eye-searing narration boxes.

I went to Howell’s Twitter to see what her deal was, and was greeted with a banner consisting of a sexy succubus lady with her boobies out, so I’m going to assume she simplified her style for this issue, since mecha are hella difficult to draw.

Also, I hope you like the structure of How The Grinch Stole Christmas!, because that’s what we’re getting for the next little while, complete with chunky, white text on painful-to-view red.

Our story opens with all the transformers from the colonies visiting Cybertron and making friends with each other. Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts, which pisses off President-King Starscream to no end. Being the drama queen that he is, Starscream feels that everyone should be paying attention to him 24/7 and feed him grapes as he reclines on a sofa, because hasn’t he done enough for all these sorry sacks of shit? He hasn’t even caused a war, unlike the last guy who was in charge. Bumblebee (who is a ghost) tells him to just be fucking nice for once in his miserable life, but Starscream wouldn’t be Starscream if he could settle down like that.

Our god-king of the planet calls for his aide, Rattrap, who is going to be in his alt mode for the entirety of this story, to help him set up for a public broadcast addressing his need for attention and adoration.

He sends Rattrap off to deliver the tape to the news, which seems to consist of two very sleep-deprived individuals. Because they’re apparently the only two robots stupid enough to attempt to cover the nightmare hellscape that is Cybertronian current events, the last bit of Starscream’s tape is cut off when one of them falls asleep on the switchboard. This turns Starscream’s personal worship holiday into “For the Love of God Be Nice to Each Other” Day. Everyone takes to it beautifully, getting BFF tattoos, going on vacation with their husbands, hugging in the straightest gay way possible, holding parades, giving each other bombs, and getting absolutely shitfaced.

Starscream, distraught that nobody is giving him the emperor treatment like he had wanted, sulks in his twin bed, then moves to his dinky little throne as the night wears on, making the most miserable faces he can the whole time. Eventually, Chosen One Day ends, and he’s been completely ignored. Very sad.

Then, there’s a knock on his door, and Starscream creeps over to the peephole just in time to be smashed flat by Wheeljack slamming the door open. Last time we saw Wheeljack he was assumed dead by most, and floating in a tank at Starscream’s behest. He’s gotten better since then, clearly.

Wheeljack came with friends— the entirety of the main cast for Windblade/Til All Are One, to be exact— and they’re here to make sure that Starscream isn’t completely alone on this friendship holiday he accidentally invented. Everyone toasts to his good, totally intentional idea, and Starscream decides against killing all of them for at least the next 24 hours.

Now pay attention to this next story, because it’s actually canon-relevant, because of course Roberts would write a holiday special mini-comic that ties into his overarching plot. Fucking nerd.

Our artist for “Silent Light” is Kotteri (or Kotteri!, as it’s been written on some of their other publications) the pen name for Ikumi Fukuda. Kotteri is primarily a manga artist, having created their own works and well as working on other projects. I admittedly can’t find much on this person, not even their preferred pronouns, TFWiki itself using “they”, which I will default to. All of the info they’ve provided themself is, of course, written in Japanese, but even running things through a translator only proves that information to be purely professional. Their personal Twitter is protected, and my follow request was never answered, as far as I know. There’s a fan Twitter account for their art that claims “she”, but I have no way to verify, and I don’t want to assume anything based on art style, because that’s sort of shitty. Let it never be said that I didn’t do my due diligence here— I fucking hate using Twitter.

We open with Rodimus having just returned from Meteorfest, a festival where you surf on meteors and avoid your co-captain and SIC’s calls like the putz you are. He’s greeted by said co-captain and SIC decorating assembling a Christmas tree cloaking machine and finishing each other’s sentences like an old married couple. Rodimus tries to deny the existence of Minimegs, then we get our heavy-handed and lampshaded explanation for the crux of the issue. Megatron handles Minimus like a baby doll as the two of them explain that the Lost Light is about to hit Mauler territory.

Maulers are notorious for wanting the Cybertronians dead, but Megatron is too much of a macho man to pussy out and go around them. So instead, the crew will be hiding in special sleeping pods that will mask their spark signatures, and pray to their pantheon of gods that no one notices the ship the size of Manhattan. Brainstorm has like fifteen new inventions, despite being on house arrest from his lab. Megatron’s autobot badge is wearing a hat. Merry fucking Christmas.

Over at Swerve’s, it would appear that everyone’s favorite television junkie is closed for business, as it’s just him, Nautica, and Whirl, sitting on the floor getting absolutely shit-faced on subspace-filtered engex. This might’ve been an issue, as folks are supposed to be bedding down in their B.E.D.s for the next leg of the trip, but Swerve slipped Magnus some Bing Crosby earlier so they’re cool right now.

There’s a banging at the door, and Whirl decides to answer, even though it’s not his bar, because if it’s trouble come a-knocking, it was probably looking for Whirl anyhow.

When Whirl answers, however, it’s not Magnus having caught wind of Nautica disrespecting the Autobot code, but an entirely different flavor of problem.

Now, I know that thing Whirl’s holding looks like a fucked up Hitachi Wand, but it is, in fact, an entire-ass baby robot. It seems that when Cerebros (Fortress Maximus’s friend, if you’ll recall) sent the engex through the subspace, this infant Cybertronian (Luna One-ian?) got mixed in with the other supplies.

We learn a bit about how baby Cybertronians work before we remember, oh right, this kid is gonna get everyone killed if they catch wind of her spark, since there isn’t a B.E.D. for her. Yes, it’s a girl! Congrats to our three idiots on their Cybertronian gender non-conforming little princess.

They gang decides to shunt her back through the subspace hatch, so they head over to where it’s currently being housed— the office of Ultra Magnus. Nautica, using her wits and all the tools in her arsenal, smashes the window to the office and they break in. The empty Magnus Armor sits in the dark like a grim monument to being married to your job. Whirl informs Nautica how to comfort the baby that he super for-sure doesn’t care about, handing her off while he uses his titty glass to replace the window in the door. Swerve tries to bite through iron chains holding the subspace hatch hostage, only to be stopped by the sound of justice coming down the hall.

The gang, of course, looks suspicious as hell standing stock straight immediately in front of Magnus’s office, but Minimus rather likes the change of pace out of these goofy morons, and is maybe also trying to deflect his embarrassment at being caught performing his own personal karaoke. He sends them off to their B.E.D.s, and it looks like all’s well that ends well until Whirl asks where Sparky is.

Yes, he named the baby.

Don’t worry though, he’s totally not attached or whatever.

Nautica, in her panic to not be caught stealing/vandalizing/using equipment she doesn’t have the clearance for, stuffed Sparky in the Magnus Armor. And also put the helmet portion back on the body, for some reason. Anyway, it looks like our little princess is gonna be a load-bearer when she grows up, because Magnus is up and looking for hugs. Nautica, a paragon of level-headed thinking in times of crisis, handles this in the best way she can.

And that’s a wrap on Minimus Ambus! Let’s give him a hand, folks! And let’s also give a hand to the new Ultra Magnus, Miss Sparky Whirldòttir! Where did that little scamp get to, anyhow?

Swerve nominates himself to be the one to drag Minimus to a B.E.D. to sleep off his concussion, leaving Whirl and Nautica to track down the baby.

The scene changes to Megatron announcing a last call for beddy-bye time on the intercom, just as Ultra Sparky enters the room. She looms over Megatron, putting him in a very compromising position as he hits the intercom button with his arm. Rodimus, climbing into his own B.E.D., wishes that his co-captain and SIC would stop being gay for, like, five minutes, or at least wouldn’t do it where it can be broadcasted throughout the whole ship in audio format.

Whirl and Nautica come save Megatron from the onslaught of physical affection, stating that “Magnus” has had a bit too much to drink. Megatron orders them to bed from his fetal position on the countertop.

It’s bedtime, but we still haven’t figured out how to get the kid back to Luna 1 so the Maulers don’t super-murder the whole crew. Nautica leaves Whirl to figure it out, getting into B.E.D. and wondering who the fuck knocked on the door in the first place. Whirl tells her not to worry about it and to go to sleep, so he can be the one to deal with this mess.

Whirl, notorious for doing all the nastiest jobs— former Wrecker, intended bullet sponge for the time travel situation, attempting suicide via Megatron— is going to add another tally to the list labeled “Reasons My Peers Don’t Really Like Me All That Much”, by throwing an entire baby out the air lock.

However, Whirl is being written by Roberts, who would never allow the number of robot babies to go down, so Sparky’s adorable assimilation of Whirl’s signature physical features gets him right in the soft underbelly he swears doesn’t exist.

Wow, Roberts put a baby in that robot. Surely this is as overt as we’re going to get with this imagery, since we’re in a major publication and not some fan-fiction!

ANYWAY

Whirl wakes up in the Medibay, emptied of infant and freaked the hell out about it. Velocity— who I will remind you is basically the only medical doctor on the Lost Light, since everyone else is too busy getting railed by weeaboos and joining unethical polycules to do their actual jobs—informs him that his daughter is, in actuality, a massive colony of scraplets that combined to look like a newborn.

It turns out that Nautica is a bit of a snitch, having spilled the beans after she woke up. Whether or not she thought Whirl had thrown the baby out the air lock isn’t really addressed, but thank god he didn’t, because then we would have had to send everyone’s favorite gun-addled dipshit to jail for the rest of forever. Checking security footage revealed who the mystery knocker was— it was the scraplets, forming the shape of an arm.

When Nautica asks how the hell they all survived this, seeing as Whirl kept the murder baby, Whirl informs her that he cut off power to his own spark to allow everyone else to live, including his sweet baby princess, winning him a #1 Dad mug, and also several emails from Rung to please make an appointment with him.

Whirl’s miracle Christmas baby lied and stole with the intent to murder everyone on board, and that makes her the ultimate daddy’s girl.

I hope you’ve all enjoyed this canon-important holiday special story about Whirl becoming a father.

In our third and final story, it appears we’ve been transported to Whoville, by the talent of our MTMTE Season 1 colorist, Josh Burcham. Within Whoville resides Anna Log, a human woman who owns two turbofoxes and sleeps in full military body armor on her couch. The wall in her living room suddenly explodes, revealing a late-night visitor.

Motherfucker, you are supposed to be on the ship right now.

Mega-Claus fusion-cannons Anna Log, and we cut to a film noir office where none other than Thundercracker has his feet up on the desk. The art grayscales for this section, as he narrates that he’s a detective. He’s wearing a fedora. It’s January 7th. He has a mysterious past and probably thinks that makes him very sexy.

The phone rings, cueing Buster, Thundercracker’s puggle, to put on her own fedora, and the two go to see the crime scene, where Thundercracker is the same size as a normal human man and wears a trench coat.

It turns out that Anna Log is the director of security for the entirety of planet Earth, which is sort of a big deal. When Thundercracker and the cops look at the security footage, they see who did it— Santa Claus, played by Megatron himself. Fucked up.

Sure, pal.

Thundercracker must now fly to the North Pole and kill Santa, because that’s how the law works. He transforms, flies by Club Penguin and a Coke commercial, reflects on his job, and then gets ready for a fight with Santa’s security measures, as Busters glowing nose warns him of incoming danger. She’s very talented, Buster.

Thundercracker makes quick work of the cybernetic security reindeer with his twin energy katanas and Buster’s jetpack. He kicks down Santa’s door to find the jolly elf himself standing in the dark, potentially rabid. The two start kung-fu beating the shit out of each other. It should be noted that this Santa isn’t the Megatron Santa, who shows up behind the two as they brawl, but rather original-flavor fat man Santa. How Thundercracker didn’t notice this isn’t addressed.

Thundercracker demands to know why Megatron dressed up as Santa Claus to commit a murder— the murder part made sense, Director Log and Megatron would be diametrically opposed— and Megatron reveals the greatest slight against himself he’s ever known.

Framing Santa for murder ain’t exactly gonna turn that coal into a diamond, Meggy baby.

Thundercracker clocks Megatron, he becomes besties with Santa Claus, and they ride a flying tank into the sunset. Thus ends Thundercracker’s most brilliant writing project yet, which he was reading to Marissa Faireborn this entire time.

Marissa isn’t terribly impressed, poking holes in all the little nonsense bits, while also not feeling thrilled about having been killed off in the first two pages of Thundercracker’s book. While the two argue, Buster and Ayana Jones make a Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown! reference together, and the issue closes out with a big ol’ Autobot symbol, even though Thundercracker was a Decepticon, Ayana and Marissa are humans, and Buster is a goddamned dog.

Thus ends the Holiday Special. Up next, more direct story progression!

[the-mxster]

Tensimm + Donna incorrect quotes (Pt 5)

Pt1 Pt4

Doctor: What are you up to?

Master: Boiling eggs

Donna: Those are ping pong balls

Master: Im not sure, it just feel like I’m living in the past.

Doctor: Awh :(

Donna: We literally traveled back in time

Master: *laying on the floor, covered in blood*

Donna: Omg what happened to them?

Doctor: They got run over by a car again

Donna: Why aren’t they in hosp-AGAIN?!?!?

Donna: I love sarcasm! It’s like punching people in the face, but with words!

Master: Every zoo is a petting zoo unless you’re a coward.

Doctor: I’m worried about you.

Master: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Donna: Master, please!

Master: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

Master: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

Master on Monday: *glues a dime to the sidewalk* Heh heh heh.

Master on Wednesday: *walking down the street* Ooh hey! A dime!

Master: Oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its “intelligent” and “really cool”.

Master: But when I do it, I’m “petty” and “need to let it go”.

Donna: I made this friendship bracelet for you.

Master: You know, I’m not really a jewelry person.

Donna: You don’t have to wear…

Master: No, I’m gonna wear it forever. Back off.

Master: Maybe the true treasure was friendship all along. But I hope not, because I can’t spend friendship on new clothes

Doctor: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-

Master: It was me...

Doctor: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

Donna : I intend to stay pissed at you forever.

Donna : Even if I seem helpful.

Master: Then you're in luck.

Master: Because you don't.

Master: Why is it so hard for you to believe me?!

Doctor: ...

Master: Oh, right. The lying.

Donna: You're violent.

Master: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

Donna: You know, people treat me like a god.

Doctor: How?

Donna: They ignore my existence unless they need something.

Donna: I’d like to live through a week that’s not a whole new verse of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Donna: Can we go to a haunted house?

Doctor: What’s wrong with the one we live in?

Donna: Wh-what?

Doctor: Goodnight, Donna.

Master: Gatekeep, girlboss, and what's the other one again?

Donna: There isn't another one. You're crazy.

Doctor: Anyone else feel good when their brain releases a bunch of endorphins?

Master: Can't relate.

Donna : Why would my brain release a bunch of dolphins?

Doctor walking into the kitchen and seeing all their limes peeled: Master, I love you but, what the h-e-double FUCK.

Master, sipping coffee happily: I love you too :)

Master: Donna, what does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean?

Donna: I don’t know, I love you, talk to you later.

Master: Alright, I love you too, I'll ask the Doctor.

Donna: Wait- Master, no-

Donna : Would you take a bullet for me?

Doctor: ...yes?

*Master angrily burst into the room*

Donna : *running away* Great, thanks!

Master: I want to be like a caterpillar.

Doctor: Explain.

Master: Eat a lot, sleep for a while, wake up beautiful.

Donna : You know they have a lifespan of a week, right?

Master:

Master: That's just another highlight!

Master: Thanks for not telling the Doctor what happened.

Donna , dumbfounded: I wouldn’t even know where to begin trying to explain this.

Donna : But what about the Master?

Doctor: Don't worry about them.

Doctor: I once watched them fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating their hotdog like nothing happened.

Donna: I keep a picture of all of us in my wallet. Whenever I face difficulties, I take it out and stare at the picture.

Doctor: Awwww-

Donna: And I tell myself "If I can deal with these idiots, then I can deal with anything."

Master: Oh.

Donna: What’s the straightest thing you’ve ever done?

Master: *sighs*

Master: I killed a man.

Doctor: It was difficult, so you’ve just given up. You might fail, so why bother trying?

Donna : Exactly.

Donna , to Master: I told you they’d understand.

Master: I can be your partner for the next race.

Donna : Sorry, Master. It's a sibling race.

Doctor: Maybe there's a contest for lonely children after this.

Donna : It's only children, Doctor. A lonely child is what you're gonna be when I sell you!

Master: I'm allergic to death.

Doctor: The ritual. To preform it requires a sacrifice.

Master: Sacrifice? I nominate Donna .

Donna : Wait, what?

Master: Because you're little, you'll fit on a barbecue.

Donna : I'm 5'5, it's like average height for women in most of the world!

Doctor: Its not that kind of of sacrifice guys!

Donna : Hey, Master, are you free on Friday? Like around eight?

Master: Yeah.

Donna : And you, Doctor?

Doctor: Umm... yes?

Donna : Great! Because I'm not. You two go out without me. Enjoy your date!

Doctor: Did they just-

Doctor: What’s sexting?

Donna: I'm not having this conversation with you.

Master: We have a problem.

Doctor: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

Master: There's beer in the cooler.

Doctor: What about for the children?

Master: You can get water from that water fountain and use it to water down the beer.

Donna : Why don't we just give the kids water?

Master, angrily: I suppose you could do that!

Doctor: Guys, I have a question.

Donna : kys <3

Doctor: I love you too.

Master: Ah, yes. Siblings.

Master: Some people are like slinkies.

Donna : What?

Master: Not really good for much but bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs.

Donna :

Donna : Please don't push the Doctor down the stairs.

Master, pushing Doctor down the stairs: Too late.

Donna : Who knew getting in trouble would be so impossible?

Doctor: I gotta give you credit, Master. You make it look easy.

Master: Years of practice.

Donna : Self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath or putting on a lot of make up if you like that, or taking a nice warm nap and stuff like that basically.

Master: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you. self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists. self care is the fear in your enemies eyes.

Doctor: Self care is stealing someones birthday cake just to eat the frosting.

Master: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

Donna : There are three ways to handle a difficult situation. The right way, the wrong way, and the Doctor way.

Master: Isn't that the wrong way?

Donna : Yes, but it's faster.

Doctor: Ask me anything. Go ahead, I'll give you a straight answer.

Donna: Why are we so fucking awesome?

Doctor: That's the best fucking question anybody's ever asked.

Doctor: Yeah, well I've never died so how do I know that god is real.

Master: Why am I the bad guy?

Donna: I don't know, why am I the pretty one? We all have our thing.

Master: *sighs* I have no friends...

Donna:

Donna: *coughs* Bitch, what am I? A roach?!

Donna : What is everyone for Halloween?

Doctor: I’m superman.

Master: A clown.

Donna : So I’m guessing we don’t need to get you a costume then?

Master: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Donna : Bet you I can!

Doctor: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

Master: I have one foot in the grave but in a kind of fun flirty way, the way one might slip on a fishnet stocking.

Doctor: Life could be worse, Master.

Master: Life could be a lot better too!

Donna: That was a joke. Say ha.

Master: Ha.

Donna: Now do it again.

Master: Ha.

Donna: Congratulations, you are officially the life of the party.

Doctor: They say that the most valuable things cost nothing.

Master: They also say that being cheap is an annoying trait, so don’t overuse that excuse.

Donna : Wow, great work on the Halloween decorations. Where did you get the fake skeletons?

Master: Fake?

Donna : Thanks for pulling the fire alarm, you saved me from giving an oral report about The Scarlet Web.

Doctor: You were too lazy to read the book?!

Donna : I was too lazy to watch the movie.

Doctor, disappointingly, after security arrives to escort the Master and Donna out: So, do you wanna walk out of here or do you wanna be carried out?

Master, in defeat: Let’s go.

Donna : Wait.

Master: What?

Donna : I’d kinda like to be carried out...

Donna : Hey, Master you're smart, tell me what would happen if I chugged 3 gallons of chloroform.

Master: Have you ever been to a mortuary?

Donna : Yea, my grandma lives there.

Doctor: That is the worst response to that question.

Master: We’re about to do the taser challenge. You want in?

Donna : What's the taser challenge?

Doctor: We tase eachother, then drink.

Donna : How do you win?

Master: What are you, a lawyer? You want in or not?

Master: It's pretty cold outside.. wanna hold hands? We should stay close.

Doctor, blushing: Okay.

Donna : It's fucking summer.

Donna : Everyone, calm down! We're grown-ups, let's deal with this like adults!

Master: So, we're just going to wing it and hope for the best?

Donna : Obviously. Now, Doctor, pass the shovel.

Donna : What's worse than a heartbreak?

Master: Stepping on a cat's tail and not being able to explain that you're sorry.

Donna : You really believe in the Master?

Doctor: Luckily, they believe in themself enough for the both of us.

Doctor: So when are we gonna tell them?

Donna : Just give them a minute.

Master: *Pulling on a door that clearly says push.*

Donna: Do you ever think? Because I do not.

Donna: *cooking*

Master: *kicks down door*

Master: *grabs knife from Donna's hand*

Master: WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOUR?

Donna:

Donna: What.

Doctor: They're trying to tell you they want to cook.

Donna (brainstorming ideas for pranking the Doctor): How much would a serial killer mask possibly cost?

Master: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful.

Donna: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that?

Master: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Donna.

Donna: Is there anyone here who’s actually straight?

Doctor: *raises hand*

Master: *puts their hand down*

Master: Aww, what's your dog's name?

Doctor: K-9.

Master, yelling to Donna: TRY K-9!

Donna, on the computer: DIDN'T WORK!

Doctor:

Master: What's your favourite number?

Doctor: The salary of a clown is 51,000 dollars.

Doctor, gesturing to Master and Donna fighting: And yet these idiots do it daily, and for free!

Pt6