#my extended descendants universe

[hannahhook7744]

And you always have to remember that not all, if ANY, of the choices they had were trust worthy.

Poor Lil Yaz and his family just thought he had a cold, a bruised side, and a concussion and didn't want to make it worse by going to Gothel or by bothering Facilier.

And niether Zevon or Yzla had a medic friend to check him over so he just died.

Honestly I can't wait to see Beast face when he realizes that the moment the other isle kids are in Auardon he will not be able to ignore this anymore.

Okay, so you remember how I incorporated a scraped character named 'Lil Yaz' into my Badun Detective Agency au?

Well, picture this:

Zevon is dragged in front of the royal family after kidnapping Ben and Beast demands to know why HE DARED to do such a thing.

And Zevon just snarls at him "because you KILLED my brother!"

How does Ben react? How do he parents react?

Sorry if my questions are repetitive. I'm forgetful.

No, it's fine! I don't think you've asked this.

Beast is like "What brother? I've never killed anyone!"

Zevon proceeds to list his brother and any of his friends who have died from malnutrition, lack of medical supplies, etc.

Are the rest of the Badun agency here? Because they have the entire list.

There is much shouting.

Ben is horrified and immediately starts the process for getting better supplies to the Isle immediately, if he hasn't already.

Beast tried to convince himself nothing is his fault.

[100s-of-random-things]

Mal and Jay: *see Trace walk down the hall like a punk*

Jay: Why's Trace walking like a hard-ass?

Mal: Because he is a hard-ass.

[hannahhook7744]

Hadie Headcanons revised;

Hadie is just a nickname. His actual name is Hayden Prometheus Olympian.

He is 8 years younger than Mal.

He is constantly following and mimicking people-- including Mal, his dad, Harry Hook, Gil, Uma, and the Badun Detective Agency.

He's a nice, easily excitable, hyper little boy who just wants to help anyone he can.

He wants to be a detective, musician, and/or cook more than anything.

His mom is likely Maleficent, the wicked witch, or Persphone.

He has a long list of nicknames including, but not limited to; Hadie, Mini-Me, Flameo, Flamey, Flameo Junior, Hades Junior, Death breath, the flame prince, the fire prince, the prince of the underground, the prince of true underworld , little prince, little flame, little blue, blue, the Olympian flame, little blue, the little blue boy, the Olympian prince, and Cebrus boy.

He wears blue and black eyeliner -- alternating the colors depending on the day.

He learned how to sword fight from Uma and is one of her favorite kids on the isle.

Hadie, unlike Mal, isn't allergic to spices, so he can eat as much as anyone allows him to.

He likes spicy candy alot and has a high tolerance for it.

He likes blue food and drinks, and anything his dad, sister, and Uma cook.

His favorite meal is a noodle mix that Mal makes him all the time.

Hadie's favorite desert to eat is a vanilla blueberry swirl cone with sprinkles and chocolate squace. Harry, Herkie, and Ben can't say no to him, so he gets it all the time.

He is a bit of a pyromaniac, which surprises no one and he also loves flowers alot.

He calls cebrus 'Spot', despite Hades best efforts at correcting him. Because of this, Cebrus responds to both names.

Hadie lives above his dad's restaurant, which is near his dad's cave.

He sometimes helps out at his dad's restaurant and around the palace once he's off the isle when the staff allows him to.

He went to Dragon Hall on the isle.

Hadie's favorite classes are Orchestra , Wicked Economics, Artists and Thieves, Weird Science, Tall Tales and the Tellers Who Tell Them. He is also in the Anti-heroes club (like the Baduns) and the Sea Ponies club (like Uma is). He also likes astrology.

Hadie's ridiculously innocent for an isle kid.

Ben ends up buying Hadie a bike when the barrier is brought down. Hades nearly had a heart attack.

Hadie gets along with his dad's side if the family surprising well because they all find him adorable.

Hadie has always secretly wanted to meet Meg, Hercules, and their kids. Mainly Meg because his dad and Pain and Panic talk about her often, so he knows how cool she would be.

The first time he met Ben, he immediately took an liking to him. Something Hades doesn't like.

One day, while out for Icecream with Mal and Ben, they got swarmed by popularity and Hadie-- shy little Hadie who doesn't like loud noises and bright lights-- runs off to escape it. He gets lost and runs into this lady with brown hair and her teenage son, and they help him find his sister. They tell him jokes to keep him calm as they do so. And that's how Hadie met Meg and Herkie. Meg quickly becomes Cousin Meg after this (since she married Hadie's cousin, Hercules).

Hadie likes the way Harry Hook does his make up and even copies the look, much to his dad's charge. Harry thinks it's hilarious, even if it annoyed him at first.

Pain and Panic are like his uncles.

Hades doesn't really keep that close an eye on Hadie other than to keep him alive.

Hadie is terrified of Maleficent. A fear he ends up sharing with his bestfriends- Chloe Charming, Red Hearts, Danny Darling, and Maddox, the Madhatter's son, when the barrier is brought down.

It's an unspoken rule on the isle that if you want to stay in one piece, you'll keep your hands off Hadie. No one has ever laid a hand on Hadie and gotten away with it. Mal, The Badun Detective Agency, whoever his mom is, and Hades always find out and it no one knows how.

He suspects it either came from Gil or Mal. He's not too sure though.

He looks up to Mal and the other members of the Core Four after what they did in Auardon. But he also looks up to Uma’s crew and the Badun Detective Agency.

He also wants to beba Detective.

He has a stuffed, makeshift Cerberus. Meaning a stuffed dog with two other stuffed dog heads sewn on it. He doesn't know where it came from because he just found it on his bed one day.

He accidentally found out that Mal was his sister not long after he learned to read. He found Mal's birth certificate hidden under the couch. He was 5. He promised his father he'd never tell anyone.

He had to literally beg and plead with Yin Sid so he could join the Anti heroes club even though it was technically his idea because of how young he is.

He knows basic self-defense (taught to him by Uma and the Badun Detective Agency) and is good at climbing things/ as well as parkour.

Hadie likes cooking, punk music, dogs, skulls, fire, and learning about his dad's side of the family.

He wears scruffed up, dirty, and torn up black sneakers that are in better condition than most people's on the isle as well as ripped up (slightly baggy) blue jeans, a black leather jacket that his dad says "he'll grow into" that goes down at his knees at the moment, and a black tshirt with a skull on it.

Hadie sometimes models for Evie's designs.

Evie is the one who made Hadie's jacket. It was a favor she owned Harry back when she was vanished.

Only 5 people know this; Hadie, Evie, Harry, Hades, and Uma.

Hadie is one of the only children on the isle who has toys. No one is stupid enough to try and steal them.

Mal, Uma, Yzla, and Freddie are trying to teach him magic. He likes this very much.

He also loves the circus to death because Herkie took him one time.

Which means you can often find Queen Mal, King Ben, Hades, Hercules, Meg, Herkie, and Hadie sitting together at the circus. Hadie also inherited his family's knack for exploring and their curiosity. Which causes a few heart attacks.

He likes making potions, cooking, baking, playing on the playground, rooftops, the arcade, and by the docks. He also likes pulling pranks, something he picked up from Uma and Mal. However, his pranks are more harmless unlike theirs.

He loves playing with animals and stargazing too. He also likes listening and playing music, and playing with toys. Especially stuffed animals.

He loved acting, plays, and dressing up as well as coloring, drawing, spray painting, painting, and basically any form of art.

He doesn't know how to swim because Uma is too scared about what will happen if his hair goes out.

He's allergic to shrimp. He couldn't hug Uma for a month after thr shrimp incident without passing out. Which is another reason why Uma didn't forgive Mal for a very long time.

Oh, and Diego also taught Hadie how to swear on accident. Yeah, that was not a fun night for him.

Hadie is scared of lightning. And sea monsters. And Zeus.

Harry use to sneak Hadie into Evie's room back when she was banished so she could have some company. Somewhere out there, in one of Harry's note books, there's a picture of a 10 year old Harry and a 10 year old Evie laughing together with a 2 year old Hadie in between them, giggling during one of these visits. No one knows that that picture exists except for Harry, Hades, and Evie.

Oh and after the barrier is brought down, Diego tries to teach little Hadie how to drive using Cruella's car. It does not end well because Hadie is short since he's nowhere near old enough to drive. So they crash through a wall and the whole thing ends up pinned on Diego. He did not have a good few weeks after that.

Hadie is usually left to his own devices on the isle. That changes quickly when the barrier is brought down, much to his disappointment.

He also has a little villian phase in his teens though no one takes him seriously in his later years. Especially not the Badun Detective Agency.

He constantly yells as a teenager that the Badun Agency is ruining his street cred.

His 4 bestfriends also do not take him seriously about the evil thing and drag him along on their little adventure.

He constantly banters and roughhousing with Danny Darling every chance he gets. Much to Red, Maddox, and Chloe's annoyance.

He also has his own villian song (see Chris villian on YouTube).

[journeytothewestresearch]

As someone who’s Chinese w/ a degree in social science + (art) history regarding East Asia I’m always super intrigued and interested to how others interpret changes in new titles on older religious texts- but I will ask in particular if you have any personal ties to Buddhism/Taoism/Confucianism (and Chinese culture) when you find yourself interpreting BM:W’s change in allegorical use of Buddhism as contemporary political adherence! BM:W’s religious and soul mechanics follows their previous game without much overt linking between the two.

Overthrowing Gods in East Asian media is a very common trope in videos specifically due to player involvement (contrast to books where you are separate as the audience) and often is used as an allegory for the system/recent events we exist in. In such it does shift a lot from the original text in base but I think it’s not supposed to relay the same allegory due to the time period in which the writers exist! Wukong’s story changing to him still being chained by the principles that envelop life is far more relatable to late-stage capitalist environments viewers and artists exist in- as such he fulfils the contemporary variant of his original role in JTTW!

I think the change in purpose the Buddhist mythos serves in this game is decisive by nature due to inherent bias present in the original text as a religious piece, and such is core to the allegory. However I don’t think BM:W is supposed to relay that allegory, I think it is supposed to branch off on its own as an alternate contemporary extension of the foundation JTTW set out (plus with the 2 DLC’s on the way, there is plenty of time to extend the universe in game to validate a shift in religious purpose compared to the cut 7 chapters planned during development). And such i think attributing it to the CCP can be a bit of a touchy statement (especially if one doesn’t have long standing ties to East Asian culture or Regional religious practice!) and can accidentally play into sinophobic phrasing and attitudes.

Buddhism as a practice and way of life has a very different presence in writers centuries ago compared to now, as well as how we use religion in audience-involved stories. And such I find it an interesting shift regarding a game made with an international and widely multi-religious audience (that isn’t consuming it as a psycho-socio poem compared to a much smaller and more culturally homogenous readerbase. I think the friction caused by thematic changes is more due to how the game relays the physical journey so closely with reusing characters and having to shift them according to the foundational changes- if it was closer to other written “sequels” that created characters connected to the original cast through descending from them etc, the changes wouldn’t grate on completed arcs or how we compare the experience to wukong’s parallel one

No, I do not have any direct personal cultural connection to Buddhism, Daoism, or Confucianism. I live in Asia, though, and beyond my research of JTTW, I do study religion here (with more of an emphasis on folk religion as it pertains to the Great Sage). My negative view of Black Myth: Wukong is colored by my deep love for the original story. In general, I don't like adaptations.

Thank you for your explanation of the game.

[venussaidso]

Mercury Dominant Themes — 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟖

It seems to be a theme in Revati where all the wealth that has been accumulated from the Uttara Bhadrapada stage is easily accessed, but the native must be deemed worthy or in alignment with this sacred wealth and very often they are (but they gotta prove it usually). Profound, universal secrets are quietly recovered in Revati where elevating/ascension is easily achieved (whether through wealth status, spirituality, surpassing mental limitations etc).

The 12H activates so perfectly in Revati by draining everything away to remind us of those secrets so that we 'wake up' again.

I'm going to use monetary wealth and inheritance for my observation, not spiritual, so bare with me.

Revati reminds us of the duality of privilege and hardship, which is either emphasized in this nakshatra or tends to be taken for granted (how such 12H harsh lessons will come in).

We can see how Revati is the 'nepo baby' nakshatra, but there's more to it if we extend this theme a bit more.

Revati being extremely wealthy while also being a nakshatra about humanity & community further validates it being a universal sign (Pisces).

We can look at the story; The Prince & the Pauper written by Mark Twain who is Revati Moon.

The story is about two boys, the prince and the pauper, who switch places and briefly experience each other's lives. The prince experiences the struggle of a commoner's life, and the pauper gets a taste of the responsibilities of the royal life. This makes them have a deeper understanding and even empathy for each other and others alike. Revati emphasizes the shared humanity of all of us, and that's why this nakshatra tends to use their wealth to give back to communities; going into foreign lands to help others that cannot be helped. This proves them being worthy of their wealth, which is now something that can be maintained and even elevated.

Gaining inheritance but only through challenging conditions is something that I associate with Revati. This falls into them proving themselves worthy of the given wealth or learning to put their ego down to be properly nourished.

The film The Bachelor (1999) is about a man, who is fearful of commitment, is made aware that the only way to inherit his grandfather's wealth is by finding himself a bride. The guy is literally commitment-phobic, but he must change his ways. He is played by a Revati Moon.

It's very interesting that films regarding family monetary/asset inheritance have (Mercurial) nakshatras which trine Revati. For example, the film The Descendants (2011) has a plot where the main character is considering on selling a pristine piece of land that has been passed down throughout generations in his family. The director of this film is a Jyestha Moon.

Or the film Inheritance (2020) stars an Ashlesha Moon who plays a character whose father dies, unfairly leaving her with a small inheritance of $1m compared to her brother - played by a possible Ashlesha Moon - who received $20m.

Unfortunately, she also inherits a lifetime of deception and deadly truths that her father left her to deal with. So, we can see how this trope looks on the flipped side where inheritance can be a curse. Mercury nakshatras are the last to deal with the (family) baggage that tend to be passed on from their family, and they're usually the ones to put an end to curses or cycles. Mercury nakshatras, in the general, are the last stage where all matters from the Jupiter/Saturn nakshatras are dealt with & released. In the film, the deceased father is interestingly played by a Vishakha Sun, Purva Bhadrapada Moon.

Actually, circling back to the film The Bachelor (1999), the deceased grandfather who's willing to pass his wealth to his Revati Moon grandson is actually played by a Pushya Moon, Punarvasu Ascendant. I find that Saturn nakshatras can make things challenging for Mercurial nakshatras, not wanting to let them off too easy. Giving them challenging conditions regarding inheritance. Sometimes, Jupiter/Saturn nakshatras can play a role in which they take advantage of vulnerable, Mercury nakshatra natives.

This is seen in the film Rain Man, which was literally directed by Revati Sun AND Jyestha Moon, Barry Levinson.

The film is about two brothers who reunite after the death of their father. The greedy, selfish brother played by a Pushya/or Punarvasu Moon who realizes that his father left his entire estate to his autistic savant brother who is played by an Ashlesha Sun. The Pushya/or Punarvasu Moon brother kidnaps the Ashlesha in hopes to get him to share his inheritance with him.

Now, very interesting how Mercury nakshatras can be born into wealth but it can all be drained away from recklessness, arrogance, or for a lesson for the natives. Going bankrupt, being dethroned etc. can be Revati/12H themes that make us go boundless, by taking everything away which we held onto most of our lives. It makes sense why the 12H is said to be co-ruled by Ketu. Nakshatras trining Revati can also have these themes extended to them.

The film 'Material Girls' is about two heiresses to a multi-million-dollar company who approach life very recklessly and arrogantly. One day a scandal they get involved in causes the downfall of their family reputation and they shift into a life of being penniless and homeless.

The film stars Jyestha Moon, Hilary Duff, and her sister, Haylie Duff, who has her Mars&Venus in Revati. And the movie is literally directed by Revati Moon, Martha Coolidge.

Another movie to mention is the very first Thor (2011) movie, in which the main character - an arrogant, reckless royal prince - is stripped of his powers and banished from his home. He lands on Earth, powerless and ordinary, where he learns humility and what it truly means to be a hero before reclaiming his status. The main character is played by Ashlesha Sun Chris Hemsworth, and the movie is directed by Jyestha Sun Kenneth Branagh. LMAOOO I MISTAKENLY WROTE JYESTHA MOON IN THE PIC

Now, onto Disney Princesses.

What do these three movies have in common? There's a commonality in their respective storylines. Rapunzel, Princess Aurora, and Princess Anastasia all have a period in the plots where they are not aware of their royal lineage or rightful place on the throne. It becomes a central narrative to move the stories towards these characters finally remembering who they are. 12H themes are at work again here, as 12H will strip you of your identity and create even more confusion of the Self. The 12H is also about remembering who you are again, being reminded of where you belong. These characters are so incredibly Piscean/12th house in nature that of course they can only be voiced by Revati natives!

Tangled (2010) — Mandy Moore voicing Rapunzel

Sleeping Beauty (1959) — Mary Costa as Aurora

Anastasia (1997) — Meg Ryan as Anastasia

Live-action version of Princess Aurora has been played by Elle Fanning; very fittingly lmao.

There's a Barbie Rapunzel movie and Rapunzel was interestingly voiced by a dominant Revati stellium.

And Rapunzel in the Shrek version was voiced by someone with two Ashlesha placements (I know, not the best example but having two repeated nakshatras make them dominant imo).

As I've mentioned, nakshatras that have the same nakshatra lord can share the same themes because they trine as a result, so they're closely connected. But Revati is the face of this post, just btw.

From what I gathered, Revati teaches humility, empathy and compassion. Revati is a nakshatra that sees humanity in all, and this trope is well embodied in the Prince and the Pauper story. Revati teaches us how class and wealth creates illusions of separation, and so the 12H takes that thing you believe 'separates' you from others so that you are reminded of the truth. Reminded, is the key word, because the truth has already been realized Uttarabhadrapada, where self-liberation and abundance is achieved. In Revati, you forget the truth that freed you in Uttarabhadrapada. So, Ketu will remind you (Pisces/12H co-ruled by Ketu) and it will hurt (the process of remembering hurts, but the aftermath is so freeing). But things can go the Disney Princess way, where you have to find your way back to yourSELF. This is how we see Revati natives losing themselves, especially in love, just to forget to remember (which is the whole point of life/humanity... EXACTLY WHY REVATI IS A UNIVERSAL NAKSHATRA).

[virginiaoflykos]

What to read after Light Bringer? (Series similar to Red Rising)

August 2023 update!

Red Rising is my favorite series of all time, and since I first read it, I have sought series and books similar in both spirit and execution. Some of these recs are books I haven’t read personally, but have often come up in discussions with other users!

1. The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson

Status: ongoing, expected 10 books in total, 4/10 out at the moment

Book 1: The Way of Kings. The Way of Kings takes place on the world of Roshar, where war is constantly being waged on the Shattered Plains, and the Highprinces of Alethkar fight to avenge a king that died many moons ago.

2. The Craft Sequence by Max Gladstone

Status: finished, 6/6 books out.

Book 1 (in publication order): Three Parts Dead. Comprised of 6 standalone books set in the same universe, the Craft Sequence tells the tales of the city of Alt Coulumb. The city came out of the God Wars with one of its gods intact, Kos the Everburning. In return for the worship of his people, Kos provides heat and steam power to the citizens of Alt Coulumb; he is also the hub of a vast network of power relationships with other gods and god-like beings across the planet. Oh, and he has just died. If he isn’t revived in some form by the turn of the new moon, the city will descend into chaos and the finances of the globe will take a severe hit.

3. Hierarchy by James Islington

Status: ongoing, 1/3 planned books out

Book 1: The Will of the many. The Will of the Many tells the story of Vis, a young orphan who is adopted by one of the sociopolitical elites of the Hierarchy. Vis is tasked with entering a prestigious magical academy with one goal – ascend the ranks, figure out what the other major branches of the government are doing, and report back. However, that isn’t quite as easy as Vis or anyone else thought it was going to be…

4. Suneater by Christopher Ruocchio

Status: ongoing, 5/7 books out

Book 1: Empire of Silence. Hadrian is a man doomed to universal infamy after ordering the destruction of a sun to commit an unforgivable act of genocide. Told as a chronicle written by an older Hadrian, Empire of Silence details his earlier adventures and serves as an introduction to the characters and the setting.

5. Dune by Frank Herbert

Status: completed, 6/6 books out

Book 1: Dune. Set in the distant future amidst a feudal interstellar society in which various noble houses control planetary fiefs. It tells the story of young Paul Atreides, whose family accepts the stewardship of the planet Arrakis. While the planet is an inhospitable and sparsely populated desert wasteland, it is the only source of melange, or "spice", a drug that extends life and enhances mental abilities.

6. The Expanse by James S A Corey

Status: completed, 9/9 books out

Book 1: Leviathan wakes. Set hundreds of years in the future, after mankind has colonized the solar system. A hardened detective and a rogue ship's captain come together for what starts as a missing young woman and evolves into a race across the solar system to expose the greatest conspiracy in human history.

7. The First Law by Joe Abercrombie

Status: completed. 3 books in the original trilogy + 3 standalone books + 3 books in the newest trilogy

Book 1: The Blade Itself. The story follows the fortunes and misfortunes of bad people who do the right thing, good people who do the wrong thing, stupid people who do the stupid thing and, well, pretty much any combination of the above. Survival is no mean feat, and at the end of the day, dumb luck might be more of an asset than any amount of planning, skill, or noble intention.

8. Cradle by Will Wight

Status: completed, 12/12 books out

Book 1: Unsouled. Lindon is Unsouled, forbidden to learn the sacred arts of his clan. When faced with a looming fate he cannot ignore, he must rise beyond anything he's ever known...and forge his own Path

9. Hyperion Cantos by Dan Simmons (one PB’s favorites)

Status: completed, 4/4 books out

Book 1: Hyperion. The story weaves the interlocking tales of a diverse group of travelers sent on a pilgrimage to the Time Tombs on Hyperion. The travelers have been sent by the Church of the Final Atonement, alternately known as the Shrike Church, and the Hegemony (the government of the human star systems) to make a request of the Shrike. As they progress in their journey, each of the pilgrims tells their tale.

[gureumz]

incriminating

rating: explicit

member: heeseung

notes: fem-bodied reader, brother's friend trope, mild dom/sub dynamics

a/n: my first work on this blog! it's been more than a year since i've written anything like this so i might be a little rusty. feedback is very much welcomed!

you had hoped your friday would be quiet. a calm finale to a whirlwind of a week at university. you were back home, exhausted from an hour's commute from campus, and all you wanted to do was doze off into the weekend.

the steady drone of your air conditioning, the distant sound of the tv downstairs, the occasional gaggle of kids passing by your house yelling; all of these seemed to come together into a sleepy melody, your eyes getting heavier by the minute.

until a sharp knock came from your bedroom door.

"_______?" your brother's muffled voice calls out.

"what?" you answer, a twinge of irritation sparking in your chest.

"wanna watch a movie?" your brother asks. you groan inwardly curling further into yourself.

"no, fuck off," you reply curtly.

your brother tries your doorknob. it's locked, obviously.

"i ordered food and booze," your brother offers, shaking the doorknob more vigorously. you jump out of bed, angrily stomping to your door, ready to kick your brother in the shin if it meant he left you alone.

you yank your door open.

"i don't care, i wanna slee—"

"heeseung's here," your brother whispers.

oh.

well, shit.

"so?" you reply, a feeble attempt at masking the blush creeping down your neck.

"don't act stupid, i know you like him," your brother scoffs.

mildly alarmed, you shove him away from you.

"i do not," you protest.

(yes, you do. you've liked him since the first time you saw heeseung at the front door, your inebriated brother hanging off his tall frame. heeseung had looked absolutely divine at that moment, hair mussed up, cheeks a bright pink from the alcohol. your heartbeat quickens at the mere memory of it all.)

"yeah, whatever," your brother waves a hand dismissively.

"either way, i'm extending my kindness to you on this rarest of occasions. i'm offering real, seasoned, non-university food and more alcohol than i know you can handle."

your brother adds, snickering, "and i'm practically setting you up with my friend."

you sigh, rolling your eyes.

"you have my gratitude, dear brother," you say sarcastically. "don't freak out if we start making out in front of you."

your brother makes a face. "gross."

you merely smile, an artificially saccharine expression, before you slam your bedroom door shut behind you.

---

"i brought a pest," your brother announces as the two of you descend the stairs into the living room. you land a hard punch on his shoulder from behind, reveling in his splutters of pain.

your eyes land on heeseung's figure lounging on one side of the couch and you wish you had put a little more thought into what you were wearing. a gigantic hoodie and ratty house shorts didn't exactly come off as sexy.

at least when compared to heeseung's black shirt clinging deliciously to his toned upper body and his sweats that seemed to leave little to the imagination, the outline of—

"hi, ______," heeseung greets, grinning up at you. your eyes snap back to his face and you feel the familiar blush blooming all over your body.

"hey, heeseung," you answer back, approaching the couch as nonchalantly as you can. for a second, you debate whether you should take a seat on the other end, but your brother's reminder rings back in your head.

i'm practically setting you up with my friend.

you're so going to take full advantage of this.

you seat yourself right in the middle of the couch, close enough to heeseung that you can smell his perfume but still maintaining a civil distance.

you watch your brother disappear into the kitchen, presumably to collect some alcohol, but your line of sight is obstructed as heeseung leans forward, eyes boring right into yours.

"you wanna pick out the movie?" heeseung offers the remote to you. you take it, fiddling with the buttons as you contemplate what to watch.

"horror sounds good. is that okay?" you ask, a taunting smile making its way to your face. your brother may or may not have mentioned heeseung's reluctance with horror movies.

"only if i get to hold your hand through the whole thing," heeseung jests, nudging your shoulder with his.

you laugh, briefly eyeing the kitchen door for any sign of your brother. you'd rather him not hear the next words that come out of your mouth.

"just my hand?"

heeseung stares at you for a second, mouth agape, before he smirks.

"your brother was wrong for bringing his menace of a sibling down here," heeseung says, shaking his head. he brings his hand down on your exposed thigh, fingers rhythmically tapping against your skin.

"especially when they're wearing barely anything on the lower half of their body."

before you can reply, your brother saunters out of the kitchen, three bottles of beer in his hands. heeseung's hand retracts and you cross your legs away from him, creating a little more distance between the two of you.

you busy yourself with selecting the movie, but you can still feel heeseung's eyes practically burning holes into the side of your head.

your friday just got a lot more interesting.

---

somewhere in between the cookie-cutter horror movie intro, predictably daunting music, and fake-out jumpscares, your brother had brought all three of you blankets to use as the night turned chillier. the lights had been turned off as well, by none other than yourself.

"for dramatic effect," you had reasoned.

heeseung raised an eyebrow at that, his familiar wolfish smile settling on his face. you ignored this, returning under the warmth of your blanket.

you made no protest when heeseung reached out, twining his fingers between yours under the covers, seemingly spurred on by the lack of visibility from where your brother is sitting.

a loud bang from the tv rips you out of your thoughts, and you feel heeseung's grip simultaneously tighten around your hand. you turn, giving him a look, but his eyes stay glued to the movie.

the music crescendos onscreen and all three of you jump in surprise, heeseung's hand abandoning your own and finding purchase, once again, on your thigh. you draw in a sharp breath when he squeezes, your own hand coming down to grip his wrist, as if in a warning.

he relaxes as the action dies down in the movie, but your chest rises and falls rapidly, your body both hot and cold at the same time.

heeseung's hand moves further inward, fingers smoothing over your inner thigh. you nearly choke on air.

you clear your throat, casually glancing at heeseung before laughing, trying to mask your nervousness.

"someone's scared," you comment, ignoring the way heeseung's hands creep further up the hem of your shorts. you let go of his wrist, mirroring him and reaching straight for the relative area of his pelvis.

your hand brushes against the slight mound in heeseung's pants and you don't miss his sharp intake of breath.

gotcha.

"who, you?" heeseung counters, and you scoff, shaking your head.

"yeah, right. i chose this movie," you say matter-of-factly. you palm heeseung through his sweats, his cock quickly stiffening in response to your touch. you cast a sideways glance toward your brother, relieved to see that he seems blissfully unaware of where your hand has ended up.

"it's not even that scary," your brother comments, gesturing to the tv.

"right?" heeseung agrees, taking the opportunity to meet your gaze, his eyes dark. you smile, pulling your hand away.

"you know what, i'm hungry. anyone else wants food? i'll heat up the pizza." your brother rises from his seat and you quickly pull your blanket tighter around yourself, concealing heeseung's hand still wedged between your thighs.

"i'll have some, please," you request, laying on the politeness, which you knew annoyed your brother. he grimaces, walking past you.

"i'm good," heeseung declares. "i have to use the bathroom, though."

you grab the remote and pause the movie. heeseung stands up and you follow, slipping past him and practically skipping towards the stairs.

"i'll change into pajamas. it's too cold," you say, hoping this sorry attempt at an excuse doesn't ring any alarm bells in your brother's head. if it did, he didn't mention anything as he merely supplies an 'okay' before heading into the kitchen.

you bound up the stairs, turning towards heeseung and sending him a wink. heeseung takes one last look at the kitchen, making sure your brother isn't looking, before tailing right behind you.

heeseung keeps a safe distance from you, but you can feel his presence all the same. you walk towards your bedroom, your hand barely turning the knob before you feel heeseung press up behind you.

he pushes the door open all the way, coaxing you inside. you turn to face him, one of his arms circling your waist while the other pulls your door close, careful not to make any noise that could alert your brother.

"what a tease," heeseung comments, both of his hands landing on your hips as he presses your bodies together.

"says the scaredy cat who needs to grope his friend's sister to distract himself from some silly horror movie," you shoot back, hands slipping under his shirt. he's so warm, it has your heart beating wildly.

"please," heeseung chuckles. "you like being groped, don't you?"

"only if it's you," you answer before pulling heeseung down to you, your lips crashing together messily.

heeseung groans into your mouth, pushing you towards your bed. you pull back slightly, letting yourself fall onto your mattress, your hand gripping heeseung's shirt. you pull him down with you, his arms reaching out to brace himself.

your movements are frantic as you kiss him again, moving further up on your bed until you're lying square on your pillow, heeseung hovering over you, his hair falling over his eyes. those eyes that bore straight into your own, sending involuntary shivers up your spine.

"god, you're pretty," heeseung reveres, holding one side of your face.

you smile, butterflies erupting in your stomach. heeseung grins back before kissing you sweetly and much softer this time, his hands running down your sides. he hooks his thumbs into your shorts and you let him pull them off you, his palm smoothing over your leg.

"you think your brother knows what we're doing?" heeseung asks, a mischievous glint in his eye.

you shrug. heeseung pulls his own bottoms off, kicking them to the floor unceremoniously.

"honestly? i don't care if he does," you admit, reaching out, arms circling around heeseung's neck as he comes back closer to you.

"he'll kill me, for sure," heeseung says, laughing. he dips his fingers between your folds, spreading the wetness around. you moan softly, your bottom lip catching between your teeth.

"or, he'll beat me to a pulp, at least," heeseung adds.

"but it'll be so worth it once i'm done with you."

heeseung slips a finger in you easily, your arousal evident by the way you're probably dripping onto your sheets. he adds another finger, the sweet drag of the digits against your walls sending your mind into a frenzy.

"yes, just like that," you breathe out, eyes scrunching shut.

"look at me, baby," heeseung commands, and you immediately obey, eyelids fluttering open. he's looking down at you, practically fucking you with his eyes.

but you need the real thing.

"n-need you," you mutter, unable to find the full extent of your voice with the way he's still fingering you.

heeseung leans down and places a kiss on your forehead. then on your temple. on your cheek. on your jaw. your neck. then, finally, behind your ear.

you mewl helplessly.

"tell me exactly what you want," heeseung whispers and you shiver once more as his breath tickles your ear.

"i need you inside me," you say meekly, suddenly embarrassed now that you hear it out loud from your own mouth.

heeseung pinches at your earlobe ever-so-slightly with his teeth before soothing it with a kiss.

"good," heeseung mumbles. he pulls his fingers out, licking them clean as you watch, entranced by the man in front of you.

heeseung takes hold of himself and your eyes fixate on his length, heavy in his hand and leaking precum. your mouth waters as you assess just how big he is.

(spoiler: he's really big.)

heeseung catches your eye and grins. your cheeks heat up but you can't look away.

he inches closer, pressing the tip to your entrance, and anticipation bubbles up inside you. heeseung holds your legs apart, pushing more of himself in. he gets halfway when an intense wave of pleasure surges through you. you moan, heeseung gasping softly at the same time. in a split second, heeseung buries himself all the way into you, and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"fuck," you curse, fingers twisting your sheets as you grip them for dear life.

"you feel so good," heeseung says through gritted teeth. "how do you feel so good?"

"please," you blabber. "please, please, move."

heeseung obliges, thrusting into you. this ignites a new wave of desperation from both of you, heeseung seemingly overwhelmed by how you feel around him, and you clamping a hand down on your mouth to stop yourself from crying out in pleasure.

heeseung pushes your hoodie up your chest, exposing your boobs. he licks his lips hungrily, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. your moans spill through your hand as heeseung's tongue flicks against the nub harshly.

the world around you starts to get fuzzy. heeseung keeps an unrelenting pace, pounding into you with a force you've never experienced before. heeseung lets up on your nipple and you pull him close, your fingernails digging into his shoulders.

heeseung starts peppering kisses on on side of your neck, sucking at a spot before running his tongue over it. you damn near go mad at how good it all feels.

"oh god," heeseung groans. "'m sorry...not gonna...last long."

this pulls a moan out of you, the idea of heeseung being unable to restrain himself because of you causes you to clench down on him. he curses, pulling back to grip your hips. it's almost painful, but you don't care, too lost in the feeling of heeseung.

"god, you're so fucking hot, so fucking gorgeous," heeseung praises, hammering in and out of you. you can't even form a coherent thought, all you can think to do is reach down to rub desperately at your clit, urging yourself closer to release.

"fuck yeah," heeseung practically growls. "touch yourself for me."

your mouth hangs open as you feel yourself racing to your orgasm. heeseung mumbles out a litany of curses mixed with your name and you think it's the most beautiful thing you've heard.

finally, a burst of stars explodes behind your closed eyelids, and your body jerks, white-hot pleasure coursing through your body. heeseung lets out a deep, guttural moan as he keeps you in place, his cum spilling inside you.

heeseung gives a few cursory thrusts as he rides out his high, stopping when the last drop has left him. you lie there, motionless, panting and eyes bleary.

heeseung drops next to you on your bed and you lazily reach over, draping yourself over him. he wraps an arm around you, stroking your hair as you both catch your breaths.

you both don't say anything for a while, basking in what you just did, but footsteps jolt you both out of your peace.

three sharp knocks are delivered on your door and your heart sinks.

"shit," heeseung whispers, scrambling for his pants. he tosses you your underwear and shorts and you quickly pull them on, ignoring the voice screaming in your head about how his cum is going to drip down your leg and it's gonna be gross and—

"mom and dad are almost home," your brother's voice calls out from the other side of the door.

"if i were the two of you, i'd erase any incriminating evidence, of...whatever you just did," your brother adds before you hear him walk away from your bedroom.

you look at heeseung and he looks back. you both collapse in a fit of giggles.

[theetherealbloom]

WHERE DO WE GO NOW? - CH. 3 | 14th Doctor

Chapter Three: Guess The Space Was The Thing That I Needed, But I Miss You

Summary: You arrived on present-day Earth engulfed in violence and chaos. And a familiar foe who transcends the universe’s laws and logic. He hails from a realm where science is a game, but that salt trick apparently blurred the lines of reality enough for him to enter your universe.

Pairing: 14th Doctor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt-to-Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Possible Plot Holes, Vague Background, Aliens, Mild Horror, Violence, Past Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, Timey-Wimey Stuff, Star-Crossed Lovers, Second Chance, Character Death, 

Word Count: 15.5k

A/N: Hello old friend, and here we are, you and me on the last… chapter. When I posted the first chapter of this mini-series I was honestly terrified of the response I would be getting. I hadn’t been writing for a while due to stress or lack of motivation. But then the miracle called the Doctor Who specials came into existence and here we are. Also, Merry Christmas Eve! Here’s my little gift to you. I hope you enjoy. (P.S. yes there will be an epilogue :>)

Song: This Love by Taylor Swift (Taylor's Version)

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

ENGLAND, THE STREETS OF LONDON — DAY, 2023

The world descends into turmoil and pandemonium as cars collide, their metal frames screeching against each other. The air is filled with the cacophony of people shouting and screaming. Amidst the mayhem, you, the Doctor, and Donna navigate the tumult, pushing Wilf's wheelchair through the chaotic landscape. Struggling through the disarray, people around you engage in fights and heated arguments, adding to the surreal spectacle of disorder unfolding.

As the rumble of a truck engine grows louder, a man defiantly strides onto the road, seemingly prepared to challenge the oncoming driver. Reacting swiftly, both you and the Doctor extend your arms, urgently intervening. You exclaim, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Excuse me. Can you tell me, what the bloody hell are you doing?"

The elderly man, with an air of self-assuredness, retorts, "I can’t drive."

Perplexed, you furrow your brow and inquire, "Okay, so— Which means?"

Meanwhile, a car behind you impatiently honks, prompting the Doctor to raise his hand, signaling the driver to wait. Unperturbed, the stranger in front of you explains, "I pay my taxes. Which means I paid for this road. It is mine, and I will do with it what I like."

The Doctor interjects, cautioning, "You’ll get yourself killed."

The man, with a sneer and a narrowed gaze, replies, "It’s my life, not yours." Undeterred, the Doctor suggests, "But you could just stand over there and be safe."

Flailing his arms emphatically, the man retorts, "Blame them! Because it all changed two days ago. Everyone started thinking they’re right all the time. And they won’t change their mind. If you try to argue, they go mad. Well, not me. I’ve always been right."

The deafening honk of the truck intensifies as it barrels forward, compelling the Doctor to swiftly seize you and yank you out of harm's way. In the chaos, you unintentionally collide with a well-dressed man adorned in a tuxedo, complete with a top hat and a staff in his left hand. Apologizing in a refined manner, he utters, "Oh, excusez-moi, madame et monsieur, je suis désolé. But perhaps you will dance avec moi."

He then takes the lead in an impromptu dance, placing his hand just above your waist and swaying with you amidst the bedlam unfolding on the street. In a rather peculiar tone, he utters, "Ooh la la."

Feeling uncomfortable, you gently pull away from the eccentric stranger. The Doctor, sensing your unease, protectively tucks you behind his body and asserts, "That's my wife, sir. Excuse me." With a subtle maneuver, he guides you away, back to where Donna and Wilf are positioned on the side of the street.

Amidst the cacophony of screaming voices echoing through the chaotic streets, the peculiar stranger continues his solo dance, creating a bizarre spectacle in the midst of the turmoil. The distant whirr of a helicopter above adds to the disconcerting atmosphere, leaving you and the Doctor with a growing sense of panic, a shared feeling of confusion about the unfolding events.

Armored vehicles roll onto the scene, their imposing presence and military precision contrasting sharply with the chaotic backdrop. A soldier, wielding a loud megaphone, calls out with urgency, "Attention, the Doctor and the Stargazer! Attention, the Doctor and the Stargazer! Stay where you are. You are UNIT control. Repeat, UNIT control."

The soldiers swiftly move into action, their movements coordinated as they converge on your location. One of them confidently asserts, "Go, go, go! Let’s move! Eyes on, eyes on! I got them." The atmosphere shifts from anarchic confusion to a semblance of organized control as UNIT takes charge.

The authoritative figure from UNIT, Colonel Ibrahim, strides forward, a no-nonsense expression etched on his face. "Doctor, Stargazer, I’m Colonel Ibrahim of UNIT squad five," he declares with military precision. He gestures toward a waiting vehicle, a subtle urgency in his stance.

Donna, the voice of concern, steps forward, her plea directed at the Colonel. "Get him to safety. All right? Never mind about us. I want my grandad safe. All right? You got that?" Her words carry the weight of a granddaughter determined to ensure the safety of her grandad, emphasizing the weight of the situation.

Colonel Ibrahim gives an assertive nod, his military demeanor unwavering. "Yes, ma’am. We’ll keep your family safe," he assures Donna. Wilf, displaying concern for his granddaughter's well-being, encourages her, "You go with the Doctor."

Amidst the organized chaos of UNIT soldiers following orders, a palpable sense of unease settles over you. A feeling of being observed intensifies, prompting you to instinctively clasp the Doctor’s hand. Together, your hearts quicken as you turn to the left, discovering the stranger with whom you shared an odd dance. He stands eerily still, offering a disconcerting smile and a small wave, sending shivers down your spine.

UNIT HEADQUARTERS, LONDON — DAY, 2023

Seated alongside the Doctor in the first helicopter, you peer out of the window, taking in the chaotic scene below. The city is ablaze, casting an eerie glow that turns the world outside into a disorienting spectacle, as if the very fabric of reality has been upended. The second helicopter follows closely, bearing the weight of the TARDIS, an emblem of hope amidst the turmoil. The flickering flames paint a surreal canvas against the night sky, leaving you with a profound sense of displacement.

The helicopter sets down on the helipad at the UNIT headquarters, and as you disembark, the brisk wind from the rotor blades whips through the air. Donna clutches her coat tightly, shouting over the din, "Oh, here comes trouble."

Shirley, in her wheelchair, wheels forward with a wide smile, greeting you with a warm, "I could say the same thing about you." The TARDIS touches down nearby on the helipad, and amidst the noise, the Doctor remarks, "Shirley, you can’t be serious." Shirley squeezes your arm in a friendly greeting.

Chief Scientific Officer Kate, your boss, appears on the scene, her short blonde hair bouncing slightly as she strides towards the group. The Doctor, arms outstretched, exclaims, "And Kate Lethbridge-Stewart. I remember your father working night and day to keep UNIT a secret. Look at you now. Out and proud defending the Earth."

Kate embraces the Doctor tightly before turning to you with a subdued smile, saying, "I fought them all. Robots and insects and yetis and clones. But what do we do this time, Doctor? How do we fight the human race?"

Inside the UNIT headquarters, the large steel doors close behind you, shutting out the chaos. The new HQ unfolds before your eyes, with the hum of radio chatter and the bustle of people. Multiple screens and tables with keyboards fill the room, and a triple giant screen at the center displays various statistics and news outlets reporting the devastation around the world.

Kate hands the tablet to the Doctor, and you lean over to peer at the symbols and graphs displayed on it. The Doctor, engrossed in the data, doesn't look up as he remarks, "Good, good, good. Now, what have we got? Are these worldwide? 'Cause I'm gonna need all of the statistics."

As he turns to his right, an exclamation of surprise escapes him. Your gaze follows his, and there stands a very familiar redheaded companion and colleague. She grins at the Doctor's reaction, and he joyfully exclaims, "Oh! That is the best news! Melanie, hello!"

Both you and the Doctor share a brief hug with Mel, who giggles and adds, "We'll catch up later. We haven't got time." You chime in with a playful, "Ta-da! Surprise, Doctor."

Turning to you, the Doctor asks, "You knew?"

You playfully roll your eyes and retort, "We work together, dear." Mel adds, "We also try to meet every Saturday for a cuppa."

Mel tilts her head slightly, addressing Donna with a warm smile, "I used to be like you. I was one of their companions." Donna gasps, exclaiming, "I wasn't the first redhead?"

With a shake of her head, Mel allows her large red curls to bounce, "No. That was me."

Donna awkwardly chuckles as the Doctor takes his glasses and wears them, quipping, "Although don't say companion. That sounds like we park him on the seafront at Weston-super-mare."

As Shirley pushes herself off the wheelchair, standing and giving Donna a look, Donna suddenly realizes what she said and turns to face Shirley, asking, "Is 'park' rude?" Shirley replies with a monotone voice, "Borderline." Donna winces in response.

In the heart of the command center, Kate stands with authority, her tablet in hand, and announces, "And stations. Gold Protocols. The Doctor and the Stargazer are in the room. Report."

Shirley adjusts her stance, her voice cutting through the air, "Two days ago, an increase in violence worldwide. The same increase in every country, all rising at exactly the same rate."

"Basically, every single human being thinks they're right and won't be told otherwise," Kate says, moving to stand next to you. Colonel Ibrahim adds, "That plane crash, the F665, Boston to Heathrow. The pilot declared his right to land wherever he wants."

On the screen, footage of the crazed pilot plays. His eyes were wide, he laughs amidst the blaring alarms of his instruments, declaring, "I'm coming home. Lookout, London. Daddy's coming home!"

In the tension-filled room, the Doctor initiates, "If everyone is going mad—" and Kate concurs, completing the thought, "So is the government."

Shirley, with a solemn nod, swipes on the screen of her tablet, unveiling footage of the current Prime Minister. He stands on a podium, his laughter echoing as he addresses the nation, "What do I care? I mean, seriously? Why should I care about you?"

In the aftermath of Donna's nonchalant remark, injecting a touch of humor with her observation, "No change there then," the room grapples with the unsettling scenes unfolding on the screen. The Doctor, now reclaiming the tablet, hands it back to Mel, who places it on her station. His gaze then sweeps across the room, and he remarks, "But you're fine. You're completely normal. And that's because of the—" He gestures towards the silver bands adorned with a glowing blue light worn around their arms.

Kate steps in to elaborate, "Oh, we call it the Zeedex." As the room processes this information, a robot's machine voice chimes in from the far left, connected to tubes and sporting screens, proudly announcing, "An invention of the Vlinx."

Taking a step forward, the Doctor addresses the robotic AI, "Hello, the Vlinx. I'm the Doctor, and this is my wife, the Stargazer."

Quick to clarify, you interject, "Not married yet."

"Just practicing," the Doctor playfully hums before turning his attention back to the Vlinx. With curiosity piqued, he queries, "So why's it called the Zeedex?"

In response to the Vlinx's brief explanation, "Good name," the Doctor emits a small, contemplative "Oh." Kate supplements the information, stating, "It disrupts the brain. Flattens the spike. Keeps everything calm."

With a slight scrunch of your nose, you inquire, "And the spike is?"

"I think I need to show you," Kate responds. Sensing a shift in the room, she commands Shirley, "Activate brain scan."

"Activating, ma'am," Shirley acknowledges. A beep emanates from the computer, and the screen displays the frequency inside Kate's brain. She points out, "That's my brain activity. Seems normal, albeit slightly heightened, given the end of the world. Now keep your eyes on the scan."

Kate moves to the center of the room and instructs, "And deactivate my Zeedex."

Shirley types on the keyboard, announcing, "Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, off." The light on her silver armband extinguishes. Kate takes a moment to scan the room, hands on hips, and asks, "Well?"

You gently interject, "Uh, hello?"

"Hello," Kate replies promptly, but her narrowed eyes betray suspicion. The Doctor poses a simple question, "How are you?"

"Fine," she responds.

You casually inquire, "Busy day?" Kate's nostrils flare, and she glares at you, retorting, "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm just asking. Is that a problem?" you reply, observing the increased spike in brain activity. Kate aggressively points at you, asserting, "It's an invasion of my privacy. In fact, it's an assault on my civic rights. And I think it's highly relevant that the person demanding information from me is an alien."

The Doctor turns to Shirley, nodding in approval for her to activate her Zeedex, and calmly says, "Okay."

However, Kate abruptly interjects, rejecting the Doctor's initiative, "No, no, no, no, no. I think you'll find that I'm in charge here." With a swift motion, she rips off her Zeedex, launching into an impassioned tirade, "And we've been infiltrated by aliens, a man and a woman with two hearts," she points accusatorily at the Doctor, "a man who changes his face and cannot be trusted."

As her anger intensifies, Kate aggressively directs her accusations at Donna and Mel, both with red hair, insinuating a conspiracy. You instinctively step forward, shielding them from Kate's escalating rage.

Growing more incensed, Kate turns her ire towards Shirley, who looks on with mild dissatisfaction. Kate singles out your friend and declares, "And as for her, in that chair. I've seen you walk. I've seen you walking! Don't deny it!"

UNIT soldiers move in to pull Kate away, and she unleashes her fury at you, "And you! This is all your fault! If you hadn't fallen into the bloody time rift, altering the universe with your existence and falling in love with the Doctor—none of this would have happened!"

The soldiers carefully escort Kate away, and the Doctor swiftly positions himself in front of you, protectively shielding you from lingering gazes. You bury your face in his shoulder as Kate continues to shout, "No, you can't stop me. It's about time you heard the truth."

One of the soldiers places the silver band back on Kate's arm and commands, "Activate Zeedex," resulting in a beep and the restoration of the blue light on her band. Kate sits on the floor, panting, as the tension in the room eases.

You lift your head from the Doctor's shoulder and nod, silently assuring him that you're okay. Together, you approach Kate, who is visibly distressed, covering her face with her hand. She breathes out an apology, "I'm sorry."

Both you and the Doctor shake your heads, reassuring her, "No, it's okay."

Gasping for air, Kate turns to Shirley, mortified, realizing the extent of her outburst. She says, "Shirley, I'm so sorry."

Shirley dismisses the need for an apology, "Absolutely no need."

UNIT soldiers help Kate to her feet as she acknowledges, "It's not just me. It keeps spiking inside every single person's head."

"But what does that mean? Is it being beamed in from outside?" Donna inquires. The Vlinx responds, "No. It is natural. It is generated inside the brain."

Donna points out, "But not me. Not Grandad." Mel adds, "Nor me. I'm wearing a Zeedex just in case, but I've been fine. Well, no more opinionated than usual." Donna sighs, "You and me both."

You and the Doctor ponder the situation, and he suggests, "Maybe long-term travel in the TARDIS put you out of sync."

Donna shakes her head and proposes, "Can't you give everyone a Zeedex?" Kate scoffs at the idea, gesturing to the screen behind her, where a late-night talk show host expresses her skepticism, "They're using this to control us and monitor us. And microwave our brains. I am anti-Zeedex!"

The Doctor, in response, asks you to help him with his coat. You take it from him and neatly place it on a chair. He then stands next to Shirley and suggests, "Can we filter this wavelength? Lose the background noise."

Shirley hums in response, typing away on her keyboard, "Uh-huh. Gives us a strong coherent wave in seizure focus. Peaking seven times."

As you consider the recent events, you voice your thoughts, "So, this started two days ago. But why then? What else happened on that day?" Kate responds, "Exactly. We've been looking for a trigger, and there's this."

The screen illuminates with the image of a satellite gracefully orbiting the Earth, accompanied by detailed blueprints on the left side. Kate elucidates, "The KOSAT 5 satellite, launched by South Korea, activated two days ago.”

Shirley, with a swift gesture, adds to the explanation by displaying a live feed of the satellite, which hovers 36,000 kilometers above Earth. Kate expounds further, “KOSAT is the final link in the chain. The world is now 100% online. From the highest mountain to the deepest valley on Earth, everyone is connected.”

"But KOSAT is clean. We’ve checked and double-checked. It’s not like the old Archangel Network. There’s nothing hiding in that signal." Shirley asserts, and the Doctor, with a contemplative hum, adds, “And yet.” He shakes his head, “For the first time in history, everyone has access to this.” He taps on the edge of one of the monitors, saying, “A screen.”

"What if it’s a tune?" Donna asks, prompting you and the Doctor to turn around and face her.

"What?" The Doctor inquires as you move to stand in front of her. Donna continues, "I know we’ve only got minutes left to live, but give me a second." Donna begins to draw lines on a clipboard with a piece of paper as she explains, "Because I spent six months teaching my daughter how to play the recorder till she said, ‘This is not who I am.’ That was the start of a whole other conversation, believe you me.”

She places the sheet of paper on the screen, drawing dots on the corresponding line, “But if… you look at these seven peaks, like this…”

She flips the sheet of paper around, revealing what you recognize to be music notes, and Donna confirms this by saying, “Maybe it's music.”

“A classic arpeggio. Middle C, an octave higher.” Mel says before she sings in arpeggio, “La, la, la, la, la, la, la.”

“Oh.” Kate says as if she remembers something, and you look around to see others having the same reaction, as if they’ve heard it before. You and the Doctor look around and ask, “What? What is it?”

Mel repeats her tune, “La, la, la, la, la, la, la.”

Donna gasps, her eyes slightly watering and her blue eyes shining as she says, “I know that tune.”

“I-I know that from somewhere. What are the notes?” Shirley asks, spinning her chair to face you, and you read them off, “C, E, G, C, G, E, C. It’s a musical palindrome.” Then you sigh, “But it’s just a straightforward arpeggio. Everyone knows arpeggios.”

“It’s a basic tune. So, the question is, why are we all reacting to this one?” Mel asks as everyone looks around at each other. You and the Doctor frown, and he says, “We’re not. The Vlinx?”

“Negative.” The Vlinx replies promptly, and you hum out loud, “Just the humans.”

“It’s just— It’s so familiar. It’s like it’s been buried in my head for years.” Donna says and groans, “What is it?”

Then you hear giggling from across the room, a nearby station. You and the Doctor turn to see Shirley pointing to her screen, a puppet in black and white display as she says, “I found the exact same notes.”

The puppet begins to laugh in arpeggio, and you and the Doctor realize it at the same time. The Doctor says, “Oh, it’s not a tune. It’s a laugh.”

“It’s a puppet.” Kate says as she stares wide-eyed at the screen featuring the puppet.

“The giggle in everyone’s head.” You say as you stand behind Shirley, looking at the monitor as it continues to laugh in the arpeggio notes.

“What is that thing?” Donna asks, and Shirley explains, “Stooky Bill, the first face ever to appear on television. Put there by John Logie Baird himself.”

Donna shakes her head and points at Stooky displayed on the monitor, “I’ve never seen him before, so how do— How do I know that laugh?”

You blink a few times before realizing out loud, saying, “If the very first image has been hiding in every screen since… sneaking into your head, carving a wave, and waiting…”

“But hiding how? If there were secret pictures hiding in every television, we would have found it,” Shirley asks, so sure of herself and UNIT’s capabilities. The Doctor then sassily and in a mocking tone replies, “Oh, why? Because you’re so clever? Maybe Stooky Bill’s a lot smarter than you.” Shirley raises her eyebrows and puckers her lips, somewhat agreeing to the possibility.

“Imagine… if he burnt himself into television itself and every picture ever since, every single one.” You say before taking out your sonic screwdriver, pointing to one of the monitors, and clicking the button. It whizzes, and the image of Stooky Bill appears. The woman who sat by that desk pushes back her chair in shock, and he is mockingly laughing as you hear the notes in the air.

“Screen… after screen, after screen.” You use your sonic screwdriver, tapping on each station's monitor, revealing Stooky Bill as it continues to reverberate its laughs.

The Doctor joins in, using his sonic on an employee’s phone in their hands. He says as he clicks his sonic screwdriver, “And every type of screen.” The Doctor taps on Kate’s tablet, showing the image of Stooky Bill. He says, “Every one and everywhere. He’s inside ‘em all!”

You move to stand in the very front of the room, center, pointing your sonic at the large screens. “And two days ago, he finally connected worldwide, branding his Giggle into your brains.” The sonic screwdriver warbles, and images of Stooky Bill, along with his laugh, appear on the large monitor.

The Doctor stands by your side, adding in a low voice, “Since the very first existence of television. Laughing at the human race. And driving you mad.”

The entire group gathers for a small meeting by the large metal doors that lead to the helipad outside. You stand in a circle, positioned by the Doctor’s side, his glasses tucked away in his pocket. Kate tries to grasp the newfound knowledge as she asks, “But something at that scale, over so many years, who could do that?”

The Doctor's countenance turns wrathful, and you sense the heat and intensity radiating from his body as he retorts, "The puppet’s just a puppet. We’re looking for the puppeteer." He then pauses, taking a deep breath that puffs out his chest as he crosses his arms. Speaking with a low intensity, he adds, "And I’ve got a memory. I think something’s coming back… after a very long time."

Raising his voice to address everyone, he grits his teeth, "But it’s not only the giggle. Don’t go thinking you’ve got an excuse. The human race might be clever and bright and brilliant." His words are delivered with a hint of disgust, "But it’s also savage and venal and relentless."

The Doctor points to the screens showcasing people causing havoc around the world as he vehemently declares, "All the anger out there on the street. The lies, the righteousness." Jabbing a finger at the rest of the group, he continues, "That’s human. That’s you. That’s who you are. Using you’re intelligence to be stupid. Poisoning the world. And hating each other, you’ve never needed any help with that!”

He briefly pauses, toning down his voice as he says, “But today, something else is using your worst attributes. Playing with you. Like toys.” A chill runs down your spine as a distant memory starts to resurface, hinting at an old-time foe returning to wreak havoc. You blink, a hunch forming about who might be orchestrating all of the catastrophe.

“Can we take that satellite out?” The Doctor asks Kate, and she replies promptly, “All missiles are on lockdown, but we’ve got the Galvanic Beam.”

“What range?” You inquire, and Kate explains, “We could pick off a pebble on the moon. Trouble is, taking out a South Korean satellite will have international consequences, so we’ve been waiting for permission. All world leaders are being affected by the Giggle.”

The Doctor nods and says, “You have my permission.” He then looks to you, and you deeply sigh, nodding, “And you have mine.”

Kate nods to Colonel Ibrahim, signaling to get the Galvanic Beam ready. Then, she turns to you and the Doctor, “Thank you, Doctor and Stargazer.” Kate moves past you, announcing to the entire UNIT staff on the floor, “Gold protocol override. All staff, initiate Galvanic activation. Bring up the beam.”

“Platform in motion,” an employee's voice echoes through the speaker as the platform outside the tower shifts downward.

“Shirley, have we got the exact date that Logie Baird made that transmission?” The Doctor asks aloud, to which Shirley responds with determination, “I’ll find it,” and begins clicking away on her keyboard.

“All clear on the helipad,” another employee announces over the speaker as The Doctor walks over to Mel’s station, and you make your way towards Shirley, beginning to help her locate the date of the transmission.

The Doctor leans over Mel’s shoulder, and she says to him, “I fed the KOSAT fake coordinates, so it’s coming into UK orbit. Within range in three minutes.” The Doctor compliments her, “You’re brilliant.” He then looks at her with a smile, “Hello.” Mel replies with her own smile, the kind that reaches her eyes as she says, “Hi.”

You glance over to see the Doctor and Mel chatting as they work, and a sense of happiness and comfort washes over you, knowing Mel is okay. After a few minutes, you hear Mel announce to everyone, “Galvanic Beam payload boarding.”

“Platform locking at level 55,” an employee announces over the intercom, and Mel continues, “Galvanic Beam in position. KOSAT in range in 90 seconds.”

A beep emanates from Shirley’s computer, and your eyes quickly scan over the words before Shirley turns her head and says to the Doctor, “Doctor, Stooky Bill was televised on the 2nd of October 1925 at 22 Frith Street, Soho, W1D 4RF.”

You grab the Doctor’s coat from the chair and hand it to him as he says to Kate, “Fire when ready. Don’t wait for us.” He then looks to Colonel Ibrahim, quickly asking, “TARDIS?”

The Colonel points as he replies promptly, “Suite 17.”

The Doctor grunts, “Okay.” After putting on his coat, he grabs your hand, pulling you along with him as Donna says to you both, “You’re not going without me.”

As you enter the suite and find the TARDIS parked there, the Doctor quickly unlocks it with his key and rushes inside, with you and Donna trailing right behind him. Time’s running out, always running out, and every road you discover disappears under your feet. Because if nothing else, you're given a little time to change the game, a chance to redefine everything.

SOHO — 1925

The TARDIS whooshes and whizzes, finally giving a loud thud as it lands. The Doctor opens the door first, popping his head out to check if it’s safe before allowing you and Donna to step out into the dimly lit alley where the TARDIS is parked. The flickering gas lamps cast a warm glow, highlighting the cobblestone street and the faint echoes of distant chatter.

The Doctor announces to the two of you, “Soho, 1925.”

“So, what about Mel?” Donna asks, wiggling her eyebrows playfully at the two of you. You let out a chuckle, saying, “She’s brilliant, isn’t she?”

Donna laughs with a smile, “Yeah, but I just kept thinking, all this time, you’ve never mentioned her.”

The Doctor addresses Donna with a frown, “Donna, we’re a billion years old. If we stood and talked about everyone we’d ever met, we’d still be in the TARDIS yapping.”

“So you talk about no one ever?” Donna asks, and you look away guiltily. Donna continues, “You just keep charging on.”

“Yes, because I’m busy. Like now,” the Doctor replies.

“But you are busy every second of every day. I mean, look at us now. We haven’t stopped,” Donna points out, and you all come to a halt by the sidewalk. She continues, “I saw you, Doctor. I got a glimpse inside your mind.” The three of you stand on the sidewalk, surrounded by the ambient sounds of 1925 London, as Donna expresses, “And it’s like you’re staggering. You are staggering along. Maybe that’s why your old face came back. You’re wearing yourself out.”

You observe as the Doctor contemplates her words, his expression revealing a momentary reflection on her insight. However, he doesn't directly acknowledge them. Instead, he smoothly shifts the topic, saying, "Stooky Bill might be on Frith Street, but the question is, where did Stooky Bill come from?”

His gaze shifts to the bright red shop on the street labeled Mr. Emporium above the store. The three of you cross the street, anticipation building as you peek through the window. There, you spot someone engaged in a playful exchange with the Doctor, both figures playing peek-a-boo before the mysterious man expertly hops down to conceal himself. The Doctor's expression tightens with anger as he forcefully shoves the door open, pulling back the maroon curtains, and the three of you step into the enchanting toy store.

The atmosphere is filled with wonder and a touch of nostalgia as you take in the whimsical surroundings. Shelves adorned with a myriad of toys, each telling a story of childhood innocence and imagination. The air is scented with a mix of wooden toys, plush animals, and the faint fragrance of freshly painted models.

As you step further into the store, your disbelief intensifies as you recognize the man orchestrating this peculiar encounter. An old foe, one who could have channeled his creativity for good, yet chose to warp reality into a twisted game where play meant suffering for others. Dressed in a crisp white button-up and a vibrant red apron, he skillfully juggles three balls, his voice carrying a distinct German accent as he addresses you, "Die ball is die first game ever being invented."

He throws a ball towards you, only for the Doctor to swiftly intercept it before it makes contact with your stomach. Without missing a beat, the Doctor tosses it away onto the ground. Meanwhile, the man behind the counter continues his mesmerizing juggling act, sharing his narrative, "Stone Age man, he picked up ein rock." The Doctor catches another ball skillfully, and with a nonchalant toss, sends it away.

The rhythmic cadence of his speech, accompanied by the mesmerizing flow of his juggling, weaves an enchanting atmosphere within the toy store. The balls dance through the air, tracing whimsical patterns, adding a touch of magic to the man's storytelling. With a gleam in his eye, he continues narrating, "He said, ‘Oh! Das ist ein Ball.’"

The sequence of throw and catch becomes a rhythmic ballet, each movement a beat in the peculiar symphony unfolding before you. "He threw it, und he killed a man," he declares with a dramatic flair, followed by a nonchalant toss.

Another cycle of throw and catch commences, and he recounts, "He said, ‘Oh, what fun!’" The balls move effortlessly in the air, and the ambiance resonates with a sense of playfulness.

"Und now, everybody loves the balls," he proclaims, the balls gliding through the air in a mesmerizing display. Every throw, catch, and toss adds to the building tension in the tale.

"Until the year five billion. When the very last human picks up the skull of his enemy," he declares, the tone shifting slightly, yet maintaining the captivating rhythm. The balls continue their dance, and he winks as he concludes, "Und said, ‘That is the final ball of all,’ jah?"

As he tosses another ball, the vibrant atmosphere in the toy store takes a sudden turn when Donna, with a determined air, steps forward and effortlessly catches the ball with a single hand. Her gaze, firm and unyielding, pierces through the whimsical scene as she asserts, "Enough."

The man behind the counter raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, Donna Noble. I wondered which one of you had the balls," he retorts, his words carrying a playful undertone. Donna, taken aback, attempts to brush it off with a casual, "Okay. So you know my name?" The man, still smirking, raises both eyebrows in response.

Curiosity sparking, Donna seeks answers. "How do you three know each other?" she questions, her tone holding a mix of suspicion and intrigue. In response, the Doctor, donning a low, stern tone and a deep frown that accentuates the lines on his face, issues a command, "Star, Donna, go back to the TARDIS." The urgency in his voice hints at a deeper concern, urging them to retreat from the unfolding confrontation.

Donna, wearing a perplexed expression, seeks clarification, "What?"

The Doctor, frustration evident in his gritted teeth, reiterates his command, "Go back to the TARDIS."

You, however, defiantly shake your head. "As much as I love you bossing me around, you do not get to tell me to leave you here with him." The tension in the air thickens, with unspoken concerns lingering between all of you.

"Oh, but he is recognizing me," he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You whip your head back to the man behind the counter, the one who revels in tricks and games for sheer amusement. Chaos and discord personified, he continues, "Are you not 'ge-pleased,' Herr Doctor und Stargazer, to see me again after so many years?"

Donna, finally seeking clarity, asks, "Who is he?" Flashbacks of memories flood your mind.

The Doctor answers, "The Toymaker." As the realization sinks in, the atmosphere in the room starts to change.

The Toymaker gives a bow, a theatrical flourish that befits his whimsical yet ominous presence. Abruptly changing accents, he addresses with a menacing tone, "We meet again, Doctor, Stargazer."

But just as swiftly, the Toymaker's demeanor undergoes a shift. Stepping backward, he adopts a German accent, prompting curiosity. "But think, if the ball was the very first game, what was the second?"

With a mischievous grin, he seizes both ends of the curtain behind him and declares, "Hide-and-seek!" The Toymaker pulls the curtain shut, his laughter echoing in the room in those distinctive arpeggio notes.

The Doctor vaults over the counter, deftly pushing aside the two curtains, only to discover the Toymaker's disappearance. Behind the curtains lies a door, and with a quick turn of the copper-colored knob, the Doctor reveals a seemingly endless hallway. Warm-toned lights bathe the corridor in a gentle glow, wooden floorboards creak, and numerous doors line both sides of the mysterious passage.

As the Doctor steps forward, guided by an instinct you and Donna share, the door abruptly slams shut behind both of you. Turning sharply, the Doctor commands, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Go back.” With a quick twist of the doorknob, it should logically lead you out, but instead, it reveals the same seemingly endless hallway. Donna, her mouth agape, exclaims, “It’s bigger than the shop. Don’t tell me he’s got his own TARDIS.”

“The TARDIS is an idea the Toymaker would throw away,” the Doctor spits out with disdain as you three stride down the hallway. He continues, “We’ve stepped inside his domain, and it’s governed by the rules of play.” The Doctor turns to the door on his left, confidently opening it. Donna and you follow him, but just as the door slams shut, you find yourselves still trapped in the long, mysterious hallway.

“Okay. Keep going forward,” the Doctor instructs, stepping ahead with you and Donna in tow. Donna, perplexed, shakes her head and remarks, “But how does this even make sense? 'Cause I’ve seen some things with you two. I’ve seen Ood, Davros. I mean, the Adipose, for God’s sake.”

The Doctor twists another doorknob, taking a chance with the door to his left, only for it to transport you three back into the hallway. Donna continues, “But they had a sort of logic. Daleks built a great big bomb. I understood that. But this— this is impossible. How does it exist?”

The Doctor grits his teeth, growling, “That’s what unravels me. All the laws I cling to, gone.” He spins, opening another door only to lead you three back into the hallway. Moving to the opposite door, he finds it locked and slams his palm against the wood in frustration before pressing on down the hall.

Donna moves closer to you two and asks, “Who is the Toymaker? What is he?”

The Doctor turns to face Donna, explaining, “When I was young, I was so sure of myself. I made a terrible mistake. I let the TARDIS fall into another realm.” The Doctor opens a door, and you follow him as he continues, “A hollow beneath the Under Universe, where science is a game and all of us are toys.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath. "It's also how the Stargazer ended up with us, but that's something I will never regret." You softly remark, "A rift in the universe..." The Doctor quickly kisses your forehead, saying, "And it brought me you, my love."

After a moment, the Doctor struggles with another stubborn door, wiggling the doorknob in frustration. "I beat the Toymaker. I won his game, but now he's here. He's found his way into reality."

As he opens the door to the right, leading the three of you back into the hallway, he stills and sighs. "And I think it's all because of me."

You exchange a glance with the Doctor, shaking your head in disagreement. However, before you can utter a word, he cuts you off, his gaze intense. "'Cause I got clever, didn't I? I cast that salt at the edge of the universe. Thought I could have it all," he admits, his eyes locked onto yours. "I thought I could finally have you. I played a game and let him in, an elemental force with the power of a god, and he’s driven the human race mad with a puppet.”

Donna begins, “Yeah, but you always say—” the Doctor shakes his head and mockingly replies as he walks backward down the hall raising his voice, “Oh, what do I say? What do I say? What do I say?”

“‘Cause I’m always so certain. I’m all sonic and TARDIS and Time Lord. Take that away.” The Doctor says and defeatedly shrugs, “Take away the toys. What am I?” He chokes a little as his eyes glaze over, repeating, “What am I now?”

The Doctor looks to you and Donna as he offers a variation of the truth, “I don’t know if I can save your life this time.” The vulnerability in his voice echoes through the corridor, a stark departure from his usual confident demeanor.

Donna raises her eyebrows, her gaze shifting between you and the Doctor. “It’s not about me,” she asserts.

You meet Donna's gaze and respond, “Oh, yes, it is.”

With a nonchalant shrug and a deep breath, Donna begins, “Well,” and then she steps a little forward, flashing a determined smile, “Maybe I’ll save you, you big idiot.” Through the perplexing hallway, the chatter reverberates with a mixture of warmth and friendliness as you all chuckle.

"Anyway, you beat him before," Donna points out, and the Doctor wears a contemplative frown. "That’s the problem. Odd-on I’ll lose next time."

Donna dismisses the notion with a shake of her head. "Nope. Doesn’t work like that. Because my dad used to say, ‘Dice didn’t know what the dice did last time.’ Games don’t have a memory. Every game starts from scratch."

After a moment of letting the words settle, the Doctor nods with a genuine smile. "Oh, I like that. Well said, Dad." He takes a deep breath before suggesting, "Okay. Shall we find the right door?"

The Doctor swiftly dashes to one of the doors, opening them one after the other. You and Donna struggle to keep up, the anticipation heightening. Suddenly, one of the heavy doors slams shut behind Donna, separating you from her. Then the door in front of Donna slams shut, also separating her from the Doctor, the echoes of the closing door lingering in the air. 

You sense your fingernails biting into the palm of your hand, forming a tight fist as you strike the door with the side of your fists. An exasperated cry escapes your lips as you press your forehead against the wooden door. You shut your eyes, tears trickling down your cheeks. Slowly, you lower your hands to your sides, then raise them, placing them at the back of your neck in an attempt to regain composure.

You take a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs before releasing it in a resounding exhale. Pushing away from the door, you continue down the corridor. A distinct pull guides you to a door on the right. Twisting the knob, you pull the door open and step into a room filled with standing mirrors encased in plastic frames. As you survey the surroundings, the door slams shut behind you, making you flinch and glance back.

Turning your head forward, you're met with various incarnations of the Doctor—past and present—alongside friends and companions, all staring back at you through the mirrors. Their gaze penetrates through you. The mirrors shift, forming two opposing lines, resembling portraits guiding you towards a solitary dresser and a seat. On the creaky wooden floors, you move delicately, feeling like a doll as the eyes of your own reflections track your every step down the mirrored pathway.

You eventually reach the dresser, and the seat smoothly pulls out from underneath it. Hesitant, you lower yourself onto it, only to find that your own reflection is not what greets you. Instead, it's the Toymaker, wearing a smug expression as he says, “Ah, yes, the Stargazer. Oh, how I’ve missed you, old friend.”

You cross your arms and raise your eyebrows, “If that’s what you want to call it, sure.”

The Toymaker’s expression shifts to a sour one as his face scrunches up, “We were friends, we had such wonderful games in our little dollhouse until the Doctor stole you away from me.”

You shake your head as you say sternly, “He didn’t take me away from you.”

The Toymaker childishly rolls his eyes as he also crosses his arms, “Admit it. You were happy. Happier to be blissfully unaware of who you are when we were in our universe.”

You shake your head as you feel your eyes glaze over, pressing your lips, trying to steady your breathing. Softly, you spoke, “You were controlling me. You were trying to mold me into something… that had to be exceptional to be worthwhile.”

You sniff as you continue, “You never cared about me or any of it. You only wanted to play your games and win. And the one time I won… I saw your true nature and never let me out of that box.”

You gaze directly into the Toymaker's eyes, inquiring, “How? How did you end up here?”

He tilts his head and smiles, “The Doctor may have cast that salt, but that was just the door. You being here, allowing yourself to exist in this reality, my dear, you were the key. The Doctor merely provided the key, and voila. Here I am.”

The Toymaker shifts before he hums and then says nonchalantly, “Well, this was so much fun… us two friends catching up. We should do this more often.”

You narrow your eyes as you shake your head, “Don’t you dare hurt them.”

The Toymaker grins, “Well, what’s the fun in that?”

The room around you seems to blur as a heaviness settles in your chest, the weight of your choices and the consequences of your time with the Toymaker bearing down on you. The mirrors that once reflected various versions of yourself, your friends, and the Doctor now seem to mock your vulnerability.

Your face shifts to anger as you grab your sonic screwdriver, raise it to the mirror, and press the button, causing the illusion to shatter. There is no glass in the mirror because, on the other side of it, is you—freed from the false reflections that sought to define you.

You rise from your seat, hastening as the glass mirrors rupture behind you, fragments and shards soaring through the air. Grabbing the doorknob, you wrench the door open, hurtling into the hallway just as the door behind you slams shut.

Anticipating the impact of the hard hallway floor, you're surprised to find yourself enveloped in sturdy arms, the familiar texture of the Doctor’s coat reassuring. "Whoa! Darling, there you are," he exclaims.

Speechless, you encircle him with your arms, finding solace in the warmth he provides. He eases back, cradling the side of your head, and you yield to the touch, trying to ground yourself in the reassurance that you're still alive, still breathing. Life may have presented challenges, love may have left its mark, and certain experiences may have etched an ache in your soul, yet, you survived.

The Doctor scans your face and says, “You’ve been crying. What’s wrong? What happened? Did he hurt you?”

You sniffle as you shake your head frantically, “No, I’m just… I’m sorry.”

The Doctor frowns, “What for?”

“It’s my fault. All of this is my fault.”

“No. I cast that salt—”

“Yes, but since I’m here, in this reality. I allowed him to exist here as well. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

The Doctor pulls you in closer, tightly wrapping his arms around your frame as he asks, “Did he tell you that?”

You merely make a squeak as you nod into his chest, “It makes sense—”

“No. It’s— I refuse to believe it. I won’t.”

You began, “But—”

The Doctor pauses, his gaze softening, and he says, “No, my love. It's not your fault. Don't let his games mess with your mind. We'll figure this out together.”

You let go of your ghosts and your worries for once. It was just one step, but it said plenty. That you've been cut off from the outside world for such a large portion of your existence dawns on you. That you devoted so much of your life to a version of existence that was cut off from believing in the good and the beautiful as a means of survival, that you tried so hard to shield yourself from the love you so desperately needed.

You knew that you wouldn’t find a love that was perfect, but you found a love that was real. The kind that sees you and brings down your walls, that asks you to share parts of your soul you have tucked away and kept hidden from the world.

Suddenly, the creak of another door opening startles both of you, prompting a swift turn of your heads. Your heart skips a beat as you spot your fiery-haired friend. You exclaim, “Donna!”

“Oh, my god!” Donna exclaims, and the Doctor responds, “There you are!” As you eagerly move forward to embrace Donna, the room undergoes a rapid metamorphosis, transforming into a puppeteer theatre, with the Toymaker standing at its center.

Fanfare resonates in the background through concealed speakers as the Toymaker speaks in German, “Kommen Sie, kommen sie!”

Three chairs materialize from behind you, smoothly rolling forward and obliging you to take a seat upon them as they advance towards where the Toymaker stands.

"The show is just beginning. Worldwide premiere," the Toymaker announces, vanishing momentarily only to reappear behind the puppet theatre at the center. He addresses Donna Noble, "This is for you. Let me tell you what happened when the Doctor, he was leaving you."

Lifting the cross brace of the string puppet, he continues, "He met a friend called Amy Pond. And he loved Amy Pond." The strings sway as he manipulates the Amy puppet. "Yes, he be liking die redheads." A playful wink is followed by, "And they went to and fro in time und space."

The Toymaker's tone darkens as he narrates, "But Amy Pond was touched by the Weeping Angel. And she died." He grabs a large pair of scissors, severing the strings of the puppet, rendering it limp and lifeless.

The Doctor's expression turns grim and angry as he grits his teeth, "She died of old age."

Quickly shifting to an American accent, the Toymaker mockingly remarks, "Well, that’s alright then."

Continuing in his vibrant German accent, the Toymaker orchestrates the descent of a new puppet onto the stage, "Und then he was meeting Clara. Mmm." He adds, "But she was killed by a bird." Another snip of the strings leaves the puppet limp and lifeless.

The Doctor growls, "She still survives in her last second of life."

"Well, that’s alright then!" The Toymaker replies in his mocking American accent.

The Toymaker continues in his vibrant German accent, placing another puppet on the stage, "Und then the Doctor met Bill." Strings are pulled as he continues, "Not Stooky Bill, but lady Bill. But she was killed by the Cybermen." With a snip, the puppet falls to the floor, lifeless.

The Doctor's lip trembles, jaw set, as he asserts in a raised tone, "But her consciousness survives."

"Oh, well, that’s alright then!" The Toymaker retorts once more in his mocking American accent. He then transitions to a new scene with stars and planets descending, connected with strings. Cutting the strings, he comments with feigned remorse, "Und then there came die Flux. Oh, Donna Noble, the poor Doctor." The Toymaker continues to sever the strings attached to the planets, remarking, "Die Flux was killing everything."

"Is all of this true?" Donna asks in disbelief, leaving you frozen and unsure of what to do or say.

The Doctor abruptly stands up, his gaze locked onto the Toymaker's eyes as he lowers his tone, the gruffness evident, "I challenge you to a game."

The Toymaker's expression drops, his nostrils flare, and he strides toward the table. The Doctor meets him at the other end, and they lock eyes, a tense silence enveloping them.

The two of them settle into seats across from each other as the Toymaker mysteriously conjures a deck of cards. In a refined British accent, he declares, “I accept the challenge.”

The Doctor retorts, “You have no choice.”

With an air of a magician, the Toymaker skillfully shuffles the deck of cards, his hands moving with deliberate precision. "I came to this universe with such delight, and I played them all, Doctor." The Toymaker lays down the cards in a line, maintaining his magical flair. "I toyed with supernovas, turned galaxies into spinning tops."

He holds the two halves of the deck and continues, "I gambled with God and made him a jack-in-the-box." Flipping the cards, he shuffles the deck, his eyes locked onto the Doctor's. "I made a jigsaw out of your history. Did you like it?"

"The Master was dying and begged for his life with one final game. And when he lost, I sealed him for all eternity inside my gold tooth." The Toymaker says, a sly smile accompanying the gesture to his shiny gold tooth. However, his tone turns grave and haunted as he continues, "There’s only one player I didn’t dare face. The one who waits."

Both you and the Doctor furrow your brows, and the Doctor questions, “Who’s that?”

The Toymaker's gaze becomes distant as he recalls, “I saw it. Hiding. And I ran.”

“What do you mean?” The Doctor presses, and the Toymaker shakes his head, “Mmm. That’s someone else’s game.” Placing the deck of cards neatly on the table, he asks, “What shall we play?”

“One request. Tell me,” The Doctor starts, his tone curious, “The human race, back in the future. Why does everyone think they’re right?”

The Toymaker smirks knowingly and replies, “So that they win. I made every opinion supreme. That’s the game of the 21st century. They shout, they type, and they cancel. So I fixed it. Now everybody wins.”

“And everyone loses,” you remark, your eyebrows furrowing in contemplation. The Toymaker smiles, acknowledging the truth, “The never-ending game.” He then turns to the Doctor, prompting, “Now name your challenge.”

“The simplest game of all. Let’s cut,” the Doctor proposes, and the Toymaker grins, “Highest card wins.”

“Aces high,” the Doctor asserts.

“You choose,” the Toymaker replies.

“I’ll go first,” the Doctor declares.

Then Donna interjects, “But he’ll cheat.”

You, the Toymaker, and the Doctor quickly disagree, simultaneously stating, “No.” The Toymaker's face turns sour, offended by the accusation, “Shame.”

“That’s the one thing he won’t do,” the Doctor asserts, and Donna points out, “But they’re his cards. He’s all tricks. Of course, he’ll cheat.”

You then explain, “The only rules the Toymaker follows are the rules of the game. They bind his entire existence. The Doctor wins or he loses, and that’s it.”

The Toymaker glowers at the Doctor as he says, “Then play.”

The Doctor seizes the top deck of cards, turning it to reveal the Eight of Clubs. A sinking feeling creeps into the pit of your stomach as you calculate the odds, not liking the prospects for the Doctor.

The Toymaker raises an eyebrow with a smug expression, “My turn.” He grabs a portion of the deck, turning it to reveal the King of Hearts. Gripping the sides of your chair, you feel a sense of dread as the Toymaker laughs, “I’m the King.”

Switching back to his German accent, he declares excitedly, “Und now, meine kleine Doctor, we will see what is my prize!”

The Doctor responds, “One… all.”

A light laugh of relief escapes you, realizing the Doctor had a backup plan in case he lost. Leaning across the table, the Doctor's words make the Toymaker's expression drop, “I won the game many years ago. You’ve won today, which leaves us equal. And you know two players are bound by one inviolable rule.”

The Toymaker sneers as he begrudgingly admits, “Best of three.”

The Doctor nods, “Best of three.”

The Toymaker purses his lips in annoyance, narrowing his eyes before saying, “Then let’s make it 2023.” He suddenly pulls a curtain from the side, quickly vanishing as the red velvet cloth clatters to the floor. The room transforms, and you hear the creaking of wood.

Both you and the Doctor exclaim, “Donna!”

Donna has already sprung from her chair, responding, “I’m already running!”

As you run, the structure behind you collapses in on itself, the scratching and groaning of wood as it folds in the hallway. Eventually, you make it out of the shop, running into the streets and stopping from across the street to see the entire building fold itself neatly into a box on the ground.

Donna points out, "He said 2023," and the Doctor responds as his chest puffs out a breath, "Winner takes all."

UNIT HEADQUARTERS, LONDON — DAY, 2023

Once the TARDIS had landed, you and Donna hurriedly followed the Doctor, who carried the box containing the Toymaker's shop. As you reached the main area of operations, the Doctor placed the red box on Melanie's desk and instructed, "Keep an eye on that."

Stepping up on one of the desks, the Doctor addressed everyone in a loud tone, "The satellite was only a link in the chain, so Donna needs access to the subframe. There is no one in London faster on a keyboard. She’s creating a template for this." He produced a flash drive and explained, "It coordinates all telescopes and satellites and deep-space scans across the Earth." Tossing the flash drive to Shirley, who deftly caught it.

Turning to the Vlinx, the Doctor requested, "The Vlinx, I need all mesh reflectors on Earth translated to digital five."

As Donna worked on the keyboard, Mel replied to Donna's question, "Dynamic. We’re using triad."

Donna nodded in understanding, typing rapidly, "Got ya. Okay, so you should all be receiving this now."

"How bad is it, Doctor, Star?" Kate asked with concern. The Doctor responded with a warning tone, "Something entered this world in 1925. I don’t know how. And I warn you, this thing can get from 1925 to now like stepping through a door."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and continued, "But if we’re lucky, the program the Stargrazer created can detect the decay of an energy signature from 98 years ago. Might be on Earth. Might be in orbit. Might be in space. But if we can find the entrance, maybe we can turn it into an exit."

"What are we fighting?" Kate asked, and you responded grimly, "An elemental force beyond the rules of the universe."

Shirley then inquired with a puzzled tone, "What’s that supposed to mean?"

The Doctor gave her a look and explained, "You think life is a balance between order and chaos, but the universe is not binary." As the Spice Girls' "Spice Up Your Life" began playing from somewhere, he continued, "Far from it. There is order and chaos, and then there is play." Pointing to the ceiling, he asked, "What’s that?"

"Could you turn that off, please?" Kate requested, and Melanie, standing from her chair, asked, "Who is that?"

The Doctor groaned, "Oh, I think he’s here."

The Toymaker entered the scene like a Broadway hurricane, dressed as a band leader with his hair curled and styled. A door suddenly appearing with the bell jingling as he strutted forward. Confetti popped, lights flashed, and the Toymaker lip-synced to the Spice Girls' song playing from an unknown location.

"When you're feelin' sad and low

We will take you where you gotta go"

The door materialized behind you, the bell jingling as the Toymaker stepped out, dancing and lifting his hat, grooving to the music. You and the Doctor stood there, unimpressed, wearing a fed-up expression.

The Toymaker, immersed in the infectious beats of the Spice Girls, continued his impromptu performance. With infectious enthusiasm, he teleported across various areas of the headquarters, seamlessly syncing his lip movements to the lyrics of the song. His dance was a spectacle of exaggerated expressions, capturing the vibrant spirit of the Spice Girls' anthem.

As the music echoed through the room, the Toymaker made flamboyant movements, teleporting next to Shirley. With flair, he held up a phone, lip-syncing passionately to the lyrics.

"Smilin', dancin', everything is free

All you need is positivity"

The Toymaker's energetic dance moves and lively expressions added a surreal touch to the otherwise serious atmosphere of the operation.

“Colours of the world

Spice up your life”

Teleporting with theatrical finesse, he continued his spirited performance, engaging with the song's upbeat tempo.

“Every boy and every girl

Spice up your life”

The Toymaker, a delightful force of whimsy, twirled and danced with infectious energy, infusing the tension-filled room with an unexpected burst of joy.

“People of the world

Spice up your life

Aah

Slam it to the left

If you're havin' a good time

Shake it to the right

If ya know that you feel fine

Chicas to the front

Ha ha (uh uh)

Go round”

With each step, he appeared and disappeared, dancing effortlessly to the rhythm. In a sudden move, the Toymaker materialized next to Kate, seamlessly incorporating her into his lively dance. However, the exuberant twirl proved too much, and Kate, spun too fast, and collided with a wall.

Undeterred, the Toymaker vanished and reappeared beside Melanie, pulling her into an impromptu dance as UNIT soldiers point their weapon at him.

“Slam it to the left

If you're havin' a good time

Shake it to the right

If ya know that you feel fine

Chicas to the front”

The Toymaker spun Melanie like a spinning top, prompting your alarmed cry, "Melanie!" Both you and the Doctor rushed to her aid as she tumbled to the ground, the unexpected dance taking an unforeseen turn.

"La la la la la la la la la

La la la la la la la"

Kate regains her composure, brushing off her slacks with a determined air as she commands the UNIT soldiers, "Detain him!"

In response, a contingent of UNIT soldiers swiftly advances, attempting to apprehend the whimsical Toymaker. The Doctor's warning echoes in the air, “No, don’t!” However, defying the Doctor's urgent plea, the Toymaker playfully taps the soldiers, transforming them into vibrant, bouncing balls that clatter across the floor.

"What happened to them?" Kate urgently inquires, and you, wearing a grimace, shake your head, "They're dead. I'm sorry. Just stop it. Let me talk to him."

The Toymaker confidently struts down the center aisle among the stations, seizing the attention of everyone. Kate seizes the opportunity and commands the remaining UNIT soldiers, "On my command, open fire!"

"Take him out, take him out!"

Despite the barrage of gunfire from the UNIT troops, the bullets magically transform into a cascade of delicate rose petals, scattering around the office in a surreal display. The Toymaker, reveling in the chaos, gleefully glances atop a table as more rose petals dance in the air.

"Yellow man in Timbuktu

Colourful, both me and you

Kung Fu fighting, dancing queen

Tribal spaceman and all that's in between"

Undeterred, more UNIT soldiers step in, brandishing larger firearms. Kate urgently yells, "Get down!" Yet, instead of bullets, they too unleash a storm of rose petals towards the Toymaker, amplifying the confusion and chaos in the headquarters.

Now seated on the floor, the Toymaker whimsically creates a rose petal angel, moving his arms and legs in a playful display as he swims amidst the never-ending fall of petals, still lip-syncing to the song.

"Colours of the world (Spice up your life)

Every boy and every girl (Spice up your life)

People of the world (Spice up your life, ah)"

As the Toymaker gracefully walks away from the floral aftermath, he makes his exit, singing the last part of the song and forming a heart with his hands.

"Hai, sí, ja! Hold tight!"

With a resounding honk, he disappears into the floor, leaving the bewildered onlookers shaken and utterly confused about the bizarre turn of events.

The Doctor swiftly dashes forward, sliding to his knees with palms pressed to the floor in an attempt to catch the Toymaker, yet the space where he once stood appears empty, as if he were an illusion.

While Donna tends to Mel, you approach the Doctor, who rises to his feet. Kate's inquiry breaks the moment, "Doctor, Stargazer, who is he?"

Breathing heavily, you respond, "The Toymaker."

"How does he do that?" Shirley questions from her wheelchair, seeking understanding.

Ignoring the query, the Doctor directs urgently, "The Vlinx, speed up those scans. I need those results." He then turns to the group, nostrils flaring, and commands, "All of you, search the building. He’s still here. Where’s he gone?"

Soldiers take charge, securing the perimeter, while Shirley persists, "But how does he do it?" The Doctor, resolute, explains in a low tone, "If I told you he manipulates atoms with the power of thought, would you believe it?"

Shirley ponders for a moment before responding, "Is that what he does?"

The Doctor shakes his head, "No. You can’t fight him, Shirley. There’s nothing you can do."

A sudden noise interrupts the conversation—a bell tinkling. Hushing everyone, you urge, "Listen. Listen."

The ringing intensifies. Kate steps towards the automatic door leading to the helipad, and you follow suit. There, on the helipad, the Toymaker stands alone, dressed in an aviator outfit, ringing the doorbell. Kate exclaims, "Oh, my God. He’s got the Galvanic Beam." Reacting swiftly, you and the Doctor rush onto the helipad. The Toymaker sits on the chair of the Galvanic Beam, swinging it as he excitedly exclaims in German, "Achtung, Achtung! Backen Sie."

Kate, Donna, Shirley, and Mel, carrying the box, join you on the helipad along with the UNIT soldiers. The Toymaker continues, with his goggles on and his exaggerated German accent, "Oh, how I am liking this, the gun mit the laser und the bang und the boom."

The Doctor turns back to the group, urgently shouting, "Go back inside! Get back, get back!"

The Toymaker, however, dismisses the idea, insisting, "No, no, no, no, no. Every game is ge-needing an audience, ja."

Now it's your turn to raise your voice, "Get back inside!" Yet, the Toymaker, maintaining his defiance, sternly disagrees, "Und I said nein!" He takes aim at the glass higher up the building, shattering it. The team below reacts with startled cries as you and the Doctor shoot furious glares at the Toymaker.

Removing his goggles, the Toymaker switches to a British accent, calmly stating, "Now we can all have some fun."

Kate steps forward, undeterred and unafraid, confronting the Toymaker with a determined gaze. "Where are my staff? The beam had a pilot, and the armourer and the ground staff. Where are they?"

“I think they're still falling,” the Toymaker replies, and then a faint thud in the distance is followed by the sound of glass shattering.

The Doctor bares his teeth, anger etched across his face as he stomps forward and confronts the Toymaker, “I don't understand why you're so small!” The Toymaker’s face shifts into a frown, his features scrunching up as the Doctor continues his impassioned confrontation, “You can turn bullets into flowers. Think of the good you could do. So tell me why you don't!”

The Toymaker responds with resounding sureness, "You know full well this is merely a face concealing a vastness that will never cease, because your good and your bad are nothing to me. All that exists is to win or to lose."

“And you know full well that I've had many faces, containing something far more,” the Doctor begins. You inch closer to him as he grabs your hand, offering the Toymaker a compelling invitation, “So come with us. Leave this tiny world. We can take your games back to the stars. We can play across the cosmos. We can be... Celestial.”

You watch as the Toymaker’s gaze shifts between the two of you, “The Time Lords, and the Toymaker?”

You nod, extending your hand, “Infinite games.”

A moment of anticipation hangs in the air as you hope for his acceptance. However, the Toymaker's expression shifts to one of indifference as he uses the controller of the Galvanic Beam. Turning to survey London, he begins, “And yet…” The soldiers cautiously retreat as the Toymaker observes the destruction and chaos engulfing the city.

“I have fallen in love with humanity. This world is the ultimate playground. All of the sport, the matches, the medals, the gambling, and the anger, and the children shackled to their bedrooms with their joysticks and their buttons. You make games out of bricks falling upon other bricks. You are exceptional,” the Toymaker remarks, and you signal the troops to halt their advance. The Toymaker gasps, “And then there are the mind games. Oh, the dating and ghosting, the deceit and the control. You make me dizzy. I am in no hurry to leave this place.”

He swivels the turret around, a maniacal glint in his eye as he chuckles, “We can play Grandma's Footsteps.” He gleefully fires at the soldiers' feet, forcing them to hastily retreat, "And Off-Ground Touch."

“Ah! Stop, stop, stop, stop!” You plead helplessly as the Toymaker, a sinister smirk on his face, persists in aiming the Galvanic Beam at your companions. He remarks, "Shooting ducks. Who's up next? The companion? The soldier? The scientist? The orphan?"

The Doctor charges ahead, bellowing and thumping his chest defiantly, "Your fight is with me!" The Toymaker directs the beam towards the Doctor, declaring, "And you owe me! One more ga—"

His words abruptly cease as the Toymaker unleashes the Galvanic Beam, piercing through the Doctor's torso. A gut-wrenching scream escapes your lips, and you desperately attempt to rush towards him, only to be forcefully restrained by Donna and Kate. Helplessly, you bear witness to the Doctor's anguished ordeal.

The Toymaker proclaims, “I played the first game with one Doctor. I played the second game with this Doctor. Therefore, your own rules have decreed I play the third game with the next Doctor.” As the beam deactivates, you extricate yourself from Donna and Kate's grasp, hastening to reach your Doctor who has descended to his knees on the ground. Regeneration energy begins to shimmer around him, and you sniffle as you cradle him close, feeling his feeble arm wrap around you.

Tears stream down your face as you murmur, "Hey, hey... I'm right here."

You sense his touch, brushing away your tears as he utters, "Hello, my sweet Stargazer... I’ve been alone for so long. Oh, how I've missed you." A resonant sniff escapes you as you reply, "I'm so sorry. For running. For leaving. For everything, I’m sorry.”

He softly hushes you, "No. None of that. It's not your fault." A wistful smile gently paints his face. "I love you." You release a sob, "I love you too."

"Marry me?" The Doctor proposes, managing to flash you a boyish grin. You can't help but emit a weak laugh, "Right now?"

"Whenever, wherever you like. Just say yes."

"You already know I’d say yes, you idiot!" you retort.

"Say it, please," he murmurs, and you nod as tears continue to fall from your cheeks, "Of course, I'll marry you. I’ll marry you as many times as you want. As many lifetimes as you want."

As the regeneration energy glows brighter, Donna steps forward, yelling loudly to the Toymaker, “He's not dying alone. You can do what you like to me. I'm going to be with them both.”

“And so am I,” Mel declares, setting the box down and approaching the other side of the Doctor along with Donna.

The Toymaker allows it, nodding, “Handmaidens.”

“It's okay,” Donna says, and the Doctor responds, “It's not dying.” Donna nods in understanding, adding, “I know. But…”

Mel smiles as she interjects, “You're going to be someone else. It doesn't matter who because every single one of you is fantastic.”

The Doctor’s eyes glaze as he feels the regeneration energy glow brighter and stronger, surging throughout his body, “It's time. Here we go again. Allons-y!”

The energy fizzles out, and the Doctor hasn't changed his face, leaving you all blinking in confusion as he lets out an, “Um.”

The Doctor’s brow furrows as Donna asks, “What... What's happening?”

Looking to you, the Doctor asks in an even more confused tone, “Could you... pull?”

With your mouth agape and wide-eyed, you inquire, “Could I... what?” The Doctor looks to Mel and Donna to his left, saying, “And you.”

“What do you mean?” Mel asks, and the Doctor blinks as stands up and replies, “Pull! Just pull each way. I don't know. It feels different this time.” The three of you begin to pull in each way, and the Doctor exclaims, “Ow! Oh.”

Regeneration surges and flares up once more, and out pops the head and shoulders of the new Doctor, number 15. You all gasp in shock, and you're the first to say, “What?”

“What?” Donna and Mel ask in unison.

“What?!” The Toymaker exclaims.

“No way,” the other part of the Doctor exclaims, and your Doctor responds with glee, “You're me.”

The new regeneration of the Doctor smiles, a toothy grin spreading across his face as he says, “No, I'm me. I think I'm really, really me. Oh, ho-ho, I am completely me! Don't just stand there, push!”

Your Doctor poses the question once more, "Do what?" to which his other half retorts, "Push."

"What— Does this work?" Your Doctor questions and the new one responds with a laugh, "I don't know."

They part ways entirely, each now clad in half of the other one's attire. Your Doctor sports the undershirt, vest, and trousers, and is left barefoot. Meanwhile, as far as your memory serves, the 15th regeneration of the Doctor is now adorned in a button-up shirt, tie, sneakers, and underwear. You purse your lips as you try to hide your smile and feel a warmth spreading out your face as you realize your Doctor isn’t wearing any underwear. You decide to pocket that bit of information for later.

A surge of joy and laughter fills the air as the 15th Doctor exclaims, "Hello!" Arms outstretched in a welcoming embrace, he moves towards your Doctor, continuing to laugh, "So good to see you! So good!"

Turning his attention to you, a broad grin decorates his face as he rushes towards you, enveloping you in a warm hug and lifting you off the ground, spinning you around. A yelp of surprise and glee escapes you, and you notice a twinge of jealousy in your Doctor's expression. However, you shoot him a look, a gentle reminder that they are one and the same.

The 15th Doctor lets out hearty laughter before addressing everyone, "Now, someone tell me what the hell is going on here."

"Excuse me. Sorry, but..." Kate begins, and Shirley interjects, "How did that happen?"

"Bi-generation. I have bi-generated! There's no such thing. Bi-generation is supposed to be a myth, but... look at me.” He chuckles and stretches as his joints crack, “Yeah, myth, myth, myth," the 15th Doctor declares with a jolly tone, turning to Mel and inquiring, "Mel, what do you think?"

Mel smiles widely as she gazes at the 15th Doctor, "I think you're beautiful."

Your Doctor furrows his brow, questioning, "Still beautiful?"

"Yeah," Mel responds.

Donna, taking in the new Doctor with a rich deep ebony skin tone, asks, "Do you come in a range of colours?"

To which all the Time Lords reply with a resounding, "Yes."

You hear the Toymaker clear his throat and begin, pointing the beam at the two Doctors, "If I can interrupt... Behold the game of the Time Lords. A dummy who dies and doubles and dies and doubles. I could play this for 100 years. I'll have vast meadows of Doctors dying over and over again, and I'll never get bored because…"

The two Doctors step forward in unison, declaring, "I challenge you to a game."

The Toymaker's face sours, and he tosses his goggles, shifting into a frown. "But there's two of you."

Your Doctor asserts, "I'm the Doctor," and the 15th remarks, "And I'm the Doctor."

Your Doctor smirks, "And according to the rules, you can't say no."

The Toymaker stammers, "But that's cheating."

“How?” both Doctors say simultaneously, and your Doctor continues, “It's your game, and you did this.”

The Toymaker is at a loss for words, stammering, "But…"

Your Doctor smiles, "You doubled us."

“So, who am I marrying then—” You interject, and the two Doctors exclaim, “Me!”

Your eyebrows shoot up, eyes widening in response. "Y’know what, that seems like an issue for later."

The Toymaker interjects, stating, "I accept your challenge." Stepping off the Galvanic Beam, your Doctor commands everyone in a commanding voice, "Get back." In compliance, everyone takes a few steps back.

“Moments like these are a joy, when someone thinks they can outwit the maker of the games. Do you think a grand total of two can cause me to shiver when I've played against the Guardians of Time and Space and shrank them into voodoo dolls? Name your challenge, Doctor,” the Toymaker says, and you mockingly yawn, eliciting a glare from him.

“You said it. The first game ever,” the 15th Doctor states, and your Doctor finishes his thoughts, “The ball.”

The Toymaker conjures a ball from thin air and declares, “Catch? Of course, before we begin, there is one thing to remember. It's a simple game, really, but I think…”

Suddenly, the Toymaker hurls the ball towards your Doctor at an astonishing speed, making contact with his chest just as he finishes his sentence, “…if you drop it, you lose.”

Your Doctor catches the ball, releasing a deep breath, “Nice.”

The ball is tossed around in a flurry. You can only watch as it keeps getting passed and tossed. Eventually, the 15th Doctor throws it extremely far to your Doctor, causing him to tumble and dive to catch it from the 15th.

Your Doctor looks at the 15th with wide eyes, his chest puffing out breaths as he exclaims, “Hey! I'm on your side!”

15th sheepishly replies, “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!”

The game of catch persists, and you nervously bite your nails as you observe the trio. There are numerous extreme throws and catches, accompanied by near misses, until the 15th Doctor imparts enough spin on the ball. It glances off the Toymaker's fingers, tumbling over the building's edge.

The Toymaker pants in disbelief, beginning, "But—"

“We won!” Your Doctor asserts, and the 15th adds, “We did it. Fair game. You lost.”

Attempting to salvage the situation, the Toymaker stammers, “No, but I think you'll find…”

Your Doctor steps forward, declaring, “Best of three. And my prize, Toymaker, is to banish you from existence forever.”

The Toymaker protests, “No! But I'm... It's not…” Suddenly, he starts to flatten and fold, “You can't... But I…” Mel steps forward and brings out the box as the Toymaker yelps, “Not fair. Please. My legions are coming. Argh!” He folds up into a square and drops into the box, which slams shut.

Kate seizes the box by the handles, instructing the soldier, “Take it to the deepest vault and bind it in salt.” The soldier promptly responds, “Yes, ma'am.”

Shirley and Kate disengage their Zeedexes. Kate turns to Shirley, saying, “Shirley, tell Geneva we're in full resus. Tell every base to follow Green Shoot protocols, full liaison.” She then addresses the soldier, “Rudi, I'll want the names of all those staff.”

Your attention shifts to your Doctor, standing at the edge of the helipad. The wind tousles his brown, spiky hair as he surveys the destruction wreaked upon London by the Toymaker. Approaching him, you grasp his hand and offer, “Hey, we did it.”

“But how many died down there?” The Doctor frowns, his tone heavy with sorrow. The 15th and Donna approach, with Donna reassuringly stating, “That's not your fault.”

The 15th points out, “You can't save everyone.”

Your Doctor pouts, “Why not?”

The 15th Doctor pulls both you and him into a hug, soothingly saying, “Come here. I've got you. Yeah? It's okay. I'm here.”

As you let out a sigh of relief, exhausted to the events that occurred. Your mind wanders and you smile. This love will intimately understand you, resonating on certain levels as if it has always existed—a deep-seated yearning your soul has carried, anticipating the reunion with its heart, perpetually poised to return home to the facets of itself discovered in another being. It serves as a poignant reminder that hope can emanate from the fingertips of another human being, nestled within the layers of the uncharted aspects waiting to be unveiled.

You and the group re-enter the building, abandoning the helipad to solitude, save for a lone sentry stationed at the entrance. A faint echo of laughter seems to linger in the air, leaving you with an inexplicable sense of dread resonating from a distant place.

UNIT HEADQUARTERS, SUITE 17, LONDON – DAY 2023

INSIDE THE TARDIS

You observe as the Doctor maneuvers around the console, guiding his other incarnation through the intricacies. "That's the petrolink shatterfy compensator, moved from there to there. Hyperdynes. Er... fluid links, obviously," he explains, his hands deftly pointing out the components.

Your Doctor halts abruptly, stumbling over his words as he gazes at the version of himself standing on the bridge. "And, well, you know... things. But, er... how's it going to work? You and me. This is great, I think. Is it? But... How do we both...?”

“One thing you need in this place is a chair,” the 15th Doctor remarks, and you arch your eyebrows, glancing at your Doctor, who responds, “I'll be all right.”

The 15th shakes his head, emphasizing, “No, you're thin as a pin, love. You're running on fumes.”

You and Donna both sigh in agreement, stating, “That's what we keep saying.”

“I'm just... post-bi-generation,” your Doctor attempts to justify, but the 15th Doctor interjects, “Ha! It's more than that. Our whole lifetime. That Doctor that first met the Toymaker never, ever stopped. Put on trial, exiled, Key to Time, all the devastation of Logopolis.”

“Adric,” your Doctor says with a tinge of sadness, and the 15th nods, “Adric.”

Your Doctor's expression shifts to a sorrowful pout as he reminisces about the days and tragic events. “River Song. All the people we lost. Sarah Jane has gone. Can you believe that for a second?”

“I loved her,” your Doctor admits, and the 15th agrees, “I loved her. And Rose. But the Time War, Pandorica, Mavic Chen. We fought the Gods of Ragnarok, and we didn't stop for a second to say, ‘what the hell?’”

Your Doctor shakes his head, “But you're fine.” He gestures to his newly regenerated self, and the 15th says, “I'm fine because you fixed yourself. We're Time Lords. We're doing rehab out of order.”

You then gently interject, “He's saying you need to stop.”

Your Doctor shakes his head in disagreement, stating, “I don't know how.”

Donna takes a step forward, her words measured, “Well, I can tell you. Cos you know what I did when you went flying off in your blue box, Spaceman? I stayed in one place, and I lived day after day after day.”

“It would drive me mad,” your Doctor admits. You nod in agreement, stepping closer to him, your hand gently holding his cheek. “Same here. I’ll be honest, it was difficult… at first. Yeah. It does. But you keep on going. That’s what makes it special. You won’t exactly know what’s going to happen. And that's the adventure. The one adventure you've never had. Because I've... I've worked out what happened. The Flux caused a reset in the universe, no longer making my entire existence a threat to everyone. Then you changed your face, and then you found me. Do you know why?”

The Doctor is wide-eyed as you gaze into his chocolate brown eyes, and you give him a soft smile, “To come home.”

“Do you mean... he flies off?” The Doctor says as he glances at the 15th Doctor, tears welling up. “But I could never let the Tardis go. Never. It would hurt.”

The 15th Doctor approaches you two and leans against the console, stating, “Yeah, but... bi-generation has never happened before.” An idea begins to form in his mind, “What if...? What if!”

Eagerly, he dashes to the walkway, producing a 'test your strength' mallet. “What if the Toymaker's domain is still lingering? Just for a few seconds more, we're in a state of play. Oh! So maybe…”

The 15th Doctor steps out of the TARDIS, and the three of you follow after him. Shirley and Mel are waiting in the suite.

Excitedly, the 15th Doctor exclaims, “Hey! Watch this, watch this. Watch, watch, watch, watch. Stand back. Stand back. Go on, that's it, Donna. Oh! Wish me luck.”

“What for?” The Doctor asks, to which the 15th responds with a big smile, “We won the game. You get a prize, honey, and here is mine!” He swings at the side of the TARDIS, knocking a second one out. An exact duplicate stands on the left side of the original one.

“Ta-da!” The 15th shows off in a sing-songy voice before whispering to the TARDIS, “I am so sorry.”

Donna expresses with glee, “That is completely nuts,” and the 15th Doctor laughs in agreement.

The Doctor pushes the other TARDIS doors open and looks down. He unfolds a ramp, saying, “Oh, look! Oh, that's not bad. Wheelchair accessible.”

“At last! You finally caught up with the 21st century!” Shirley smiles, laughing.

“Yeah. Go on,” the 15th Doctor says to your Doctor, who steps inside to glance around as you wait outside. After a minute, he walks out, goes into the original TARDIS, and looks around. You watch as the 15th Doctor gives you a wink before stepping inside his TARDIS, and you let out a snort.

You see your Doctor exit the TARDIS and realize the 15th Doctor is missing. “Where is he? Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!”

You follow your Doctor as he pushes open the other TARDIS doors, saying, “You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?”

The 15th Doctor mischievously grins as he replies, “As if I would ever do that. Come here. Come here, come here, come here, come here.” He hugs him and kisses you on the cheek, saying, “Look after him, you know? Now, you three, if you don't mind, there is a great big universe out there calling, and I've got to get going. So off you pop, old man.”

Your Doctor shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes, “Oh. You're the old man. You're older than me.”

Donna nods in agreement, “Actually, that is true. He's younger because you came after him. So you're the older Doctor.”

The 15th Doctor rolls his eyes playfully, teasing, “Okay, kid. I love you. Get out!” He sets the Time Rotor in motion, and Donna rushes out of the TARDIS, yelping, “I'm not doing that again!”

Observing the Doctors salute each other, you hear him say to you, “I’ll see you soon.” Then the two of you exit.

Stepping into Suite 17, the group gathers as the Doctor remarks, “Shirley, I don't suppose you've seen this before. I don't see it often myself. Stand by.”

“Where's he going?” Mel asks, and the Doctor replies, “Everywhere.”

You watch as the TARDIS dematerializes, and you catch the soft whisper of the Doctor, “Good luck.”

DONNA’S GARDEN — DAY, 2023

The TARDIS is parked in Donna’s garden, a testament to the new chapter you and the Doctor were embarking on—cohabiting. Presently, the entire family savored a meal al fresco beneath the pergola adorned with wisteria in full bloom. The Doctor sat beside you, his hand resting casually on your thigh, a constant desire to connect, to be near.

“Right. The cast-iron pot is the vegan. Ta-da! And the one with the flowers is the chicken,” Shaun declares, placing the dish on the table. You hum and nod, and Shaun adds, “I think.”

Sylvia chimes in, pointing to the dish, “And this is cauliflower cheese, which doesn't really go with anything, but it was there.” Rose nods as they begin to take their seats.

Donna raises a hand, signaling for attention, “Anyway, shush, please, for the eyebrow story.”

“Oh, yes. So... this species only communicated with their eyebrows. I thought, I can do that,” the Doctor says with an unusually happy tone, a rare occurrence that visibly lifts the weight from his shoulders. He sits straighter, and with a flourish of his eyebrows, he continues the story, “So I'm stood there on this clifftop and I went... ‘I mean you no harm. I come in peace. I am your friend.’”

“Am I late?” Mel's voice breaks through, and you lift your head to see her sheepishly saying, “Sorry. The door was open. You don't mind?”

Sylvia dismisses her concern, cooing, “Oh, you're family, darling. Sit down.”

You glance at Mel and ask, “Did you drive?”

“No. I got a lift off a zingo,” Mel replies as she takes a seat next to you, prompting cheers and laughter from the group.

“A zingo!” Donna exclaims, and Sylvia smiles, “Oh, how strange.”

The Doctor continues his eyebrow-raising tale, “So, she looked at me, the Warrior Queen of the Felooth, and she said, ‘Good. And now... you will marry me.’ I said, ‘What?!’ And she pushed me off the cliff!”

Sylvia leans in over the table, asking, “But is it true, though? Is it really true?”

The Doctor looks to you, humming and shrugging, “Mmm…” You playfully shove his shoulder, and he kisses your cheek.

“We could always go in the Tardis and find out,” Rose suggests, but Shaun interjects, “Don't you dare.”

Donna sternly tells her daughter, “You are grounded until the Doctor feels better. Don't go sneaking off to Mars.”

“Again,” Rose says, and Donna goes wide-eyed, asking, “What does that mean?” She pointedly looks at the two of you.

“Oh, no. It was just once. Oh, you're in trouble,” the Doctor says, and you wince.

Mel explains, “They took me to New York last week. The Gilded Age. It was amazing.”

The Doctor shrugs, “Well, yeah. We just can't turn down my favourite niece.”

Rose smiles, “Ah! Niece. I like that.”

“Well, that's what you are. With my best friend, my brother-in-law, the evil stepmother…” The Doctor says, and Sylvia chuckles, “Oh, I have barely begun.” The Doctor continues, “..and Mad Aunty Mel.”

Mel chuckles, “Mad Aunty Mel!”

You all toast happily, exclaiming, “Mad Aunty Mel!”

The Doctor then places down his glass before lifting your left hand, now adorned with a gold band inscribed in Gallifreyan. He kisses your knuckles and says lovingly, “And of course, my soon-to-be wife.”

You can’t help but smile as you look at him. With him, you just open. The cost of staying fortified and hidden away becomes too high. With the Doctor, you lay down your arms. You let love rush in. You let it wash over you. You crack your shell, exposing your heart to this world, trusting that you are worthy of being seen there.

The Doctor then remembers, “And Grandad! Where is he?”

Sylvia says, “Oh, he's off shooting moles.”

The sound of a shotgun resonates, and you hum as the Doctor says, “Don't worry, I gave the moles a forcefield. I love the moles.”

Donna raises her eyebrows, asking, “You love the moles?”

The Doctor grins, “I love them. But here we are, Grandad and all. Who'd have thought? I ended up with a family.”

You feel the weight of his words settling in the cracks of your bones as your hearts thump in the silence. You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling him kiss the top of your head.

Shaun suddenly exclaims, “Oh, my God, I got it wrong. The vegan one is in the flowers.”

Rose groans, tossing her fork on the plate, “Urgh! What am I eating?”

“Oh... Don't worry.” Shaun tries to help. “We'll just… give it to Grandad.” Sylvia adds, “Don't make a fuss. Pass me your plate.”

Donna looks between the two of you, smiling as she says, “You don't have to stay forever.”

The Doctor glances at you, and you smile up at him, saying, “We'll see.”

“Do you miss it? Out there?” Donna asks.

The Doctor looks around, realizing he’s surrounded by love as he says, “The funny thing is, I fought all those battles for all those years, and now I know what for. This. I've never been so happy in my life.”

This love infuses honey into the core of your being; it's akin to a gentle warmth seeping into the very marrow of your bones. Witnessing how it learns about you, fights on your behalf, and remains steadfast through life's storms by your side, you're reminded of the profound connection often overshadowed by the preference for distance over depth in this world. It's a reminder that hope emanates from the touch of another, concealed within the layers of undiscovered facets. You now comprehend that love was always intended to be gentle, always meant to be tender, as evidenced by the Doctor intertwining his fingers with yours, accompanied by a bright grin. Your bones are safe, and your heart can rest assured it belongs to him. Your world transforms, cradled by the comforting embrace that is the Doctor.

“So,” Donna begins as she chews her food and swallows as he smiles at her best friends, “When’s the wedding?”

TAGLIST:

@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @matthew-lilards @a-dash-of-cinnamon @imthedoctorlove @scoliobean @allophonicmess @mirkwoodshewolf @jaziona92 @melloww-akira @crowleythesexydemon @pedrettilov3r @nsainmoonchild @h-l-vlovesvintage @jaziona92 @1potato2rulethemall @jesssimblrorwhatever @prettyboigenius @ladygrimmx

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Rabbi Herschel Schacter 

Rabbi Herschel Schacter was a young U.S. Army chaplain who helped traumatized Holocaust survivors rebuild their lives, and later became an influential leader in the Orthodox movement and a strong advocate for Soviet Jewry.

Herschel Schacter was born in Brooklyn in 1917, the son of immigrants from Poland and the youngest of ten siblings. His family was religious, and he was educated at the finest yeshivas before obtaining smicha (rabbinic ordination) in 1941. Rabbi Schacter served as a pulpit rabbi for a year before enlisting in the Army after Pearl Harbor. After attending Army Chaplain school at Harvard, he was sent to Europe with the VIII Corps and fought in the Battle of the Bulge.

Rabbi Schacter was one of the liberators of the Buchenwald concentration camp. He stayed in Germany for two and a half months after the war, tending to the broken spirits of survivors, most of whom had lost their entire families. Many were the only survivor from their entire town; everyone they ever knew had been murdered. A famous photograph shows him leading Shavuot services at Buchenwald (above). This photo occupies an entire wall at Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem.

What Rabbi Schacter saw at Buchenwald was hell on earth. The inmates who were still alive – barely -were emaciated, lying on filthy planks and covered in lice, hollow-eyed ghosts blinking in the sunlight and without the energy to even lift their heads. The stench of rotting flesh and feces was overwhelming. 

Rabbi Schacter noticed Yisrael Meir Lau, 7 years old, hiding behind a pile of corpses. Known as Lulek, the child had lost most of his family and had been on his own since age 5. Rabbi Schacter cared for the boy and helped him immigrate to Israel, where he would one day become Chief Rabbi.

Rabbi Schacter’s son Jacob, a prominent Orthodox rabbi and professor at Yeshiva University, wrote in a piece for Tablet Magazine, “My father spent the rest of his life describing what he saw in Buchenwald and what he did during his 10 weeks there. His work focused on a number of different areas: he tended to the psychological needs of survivors; he worked hard to reunite families; he founded a kibbutz outside Weimar for young survivors preparing to make aliyah [move to Israel]; and he organized a transport of children to Switzerland.”

Another story that illustrates Rabbi Schacter’s massive impact concerns Yoav Kimmelman, a 16 year old from a Hasidic home who lost every single member of his large extended family, around 60 people. The Holocaust destroyed Yoav’s faith and identity as a Jew. According to Rabbi Jacob Schacter, Yoav was “done with God, done with Jewish life, done with Jewish destiny, done with the Jewish people.” Rabbi Herschel Schacter reached out – literally – and singlehandedly brought Yoav back to Jewish life. It happened when Rabbi Schacter was taking 200 child survivors to Switzerland. He wanted young Yoav to go with him, but the boy had no interest in being around fellow Jews and he refused to go. Rabbi Schacter asked him to come to the train station to say goodbye and while there, the rabbi reached down and physically dragged Yoav onto the train. The teen was angry and sullen, but the rabbi convinced him to join a minyan and read Torah in the DP camp. Long story short, Yoav Kimmelman remained religious and at his death, he left 80 descendants, all of them Torah Jews. “That’s all because my father had the guts to pull him onto that train when it left the station,” said Rabbi Jacob Schacter.

Rabbi Herschel Schacter became a prominent leader of Orthodox Judaism in America, helping to rebuild from the ashes and grow the movement. He was elected president of the Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations in 1968. Dr. Rafael Medoff, in his book “The Rabbi of Buchenwald,” wrote: “He was the first Orthodox rabbi to reach that level of leadership. Until then others saw Orthodox leaders as fit to be heads of Orthodox groups, but not larger ones. Rabbi Schacter broke that mold. He was sufficiently savvy and sophisticated to represent the entire [Jewish] community, not just the Orthodox minority.”

At the very beginning of the movement to free Soviet Jewry, in 1956, Rabbi Schacter was part of the first rabbinical delegation to visit the USSR since 1917. He then went to Hungary to help Jewish refugees flee during the Hungarian revolution. 

Rabbi Schacter served as a pulpit rabbi in the Bronx for more than 60 years and was known as a brilliant and inspiring orator, beloved by his congregation. He passed away in 2013 at age 95 and was survived by his beloved wife Pnina, two children, four grandchildren, and eight great-grandchildren. Pnina Schacter died in 2018.

For healing the broken spirits of Holocaust survivors and helping them rebuild their lives, and for his devotion to the Jewish people and his decades of leadership, we honor Rabbi Herschel Schacter as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[novaursa]

Of Gods and Men (resurgence)

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Paring: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous chapter: the gift

- Next part: hope

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The massive Targaryen starship, named Aegon's Flame, descended through the blood-red atmosphere of Albiron, its sleek black hull glistening as it approached the primary city, Val Anogar. The city was a marvel of Targaryen architecture, built around the towering, dormant volcano that had given birth to the land itself. At its center stood the largest pyramid on the planet, the seat of House Targaryen—a symbol of their dominance and enduring legacy.

The city's pyramids stretched toward the sky, connected by intricate networks of bridges and pathways that hovered above the jungle below. The rich mineral atmosphere bathed everything in hues of dark amber, and the bloody bodies of water reflected the light from the ship as it made its descent onto one of the many landing platforms scattered around the base of the pyramid.

As the Aegon's Flame touched down with a soft hum, the ramp extended, and you and your brother, Aelor, stepped out into the familiar warmth of your homeworld. The air, thick with the scent of rich foliage and volcanic minerals, was a welcome change after the cold and unforgiving landscape of Arctis. You took a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs as the towering pyramids of Val Anogar loomed around you.

Waiting at the foot of the ramp was your father, Dragonlord Aenys Targaryen, his regal figure standing tall in his black and red armor. Beside him stood your twin, Maelor, and your mother, Aella, Aenys' sister-wife. Aenys’ presence was commanding, his pale blond hair falling past his shoulders, and his piercing violet eyes fixed on you and Aelor as you approached.

"Welcome home," Aenys said, his voice deep and authoritative as his eyes swept over you and your brother, studying your expressions carefully.

Maelor, always the more reserved of the two of you, gave a subtle nod of acknowledgment, his own lilac eyes flicking between you and Aelor. Beside him, Aella stood quietly, her face as beautiful and serene as ever, though there was a hint of curiosity in her gaze.

"Father," you said, bowing your head slightly in respect. "We bring news from Arctis."

Aenys' eyes sharpened with interest as he motioned for you both to follow him. Together, you, Aelor, Maelor, and Aella walked toward one of the grand halls within the pyramid, its walls adorned with carvings and tapestries depicting the ancient conquests of your House. The cool stone beneath your feet was a stark contrast to the volcanic heat that emanated from deep within the pyramid.

Once inside the private chamber, Aenys took his seat on the high-backed chair, his eyes never leaving you and Aelor. "Tell me everything."

Aelor spoke first, his voice steady and composed. "The mission to Arctis was successful. The Harkonnen base has been destroyed, and their forces scattered. However, we were not alone in this effort. We fought alongside House Atreides."

At this, Aenys raised an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued. "Atreides? I did not expect to hear that name."

You stepped forward, adding to Aelor’s report. "Yes, father. Duke Leto Atreides proved to be a valuable ally. His forces fought with precision and honor. Together, we eliminated the Harkonnens, and the orbital strike we initiated ensured their defeat."

Aenys sat back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest as he considered this. "The Atreides have always been honorable… but also cautious. For them to ally with us so easily is unexpected."

Aelor nodded in agreement. "It was a temporary alliance, but effective. The Duke, however, is a man of interest. He did not inquire too deeply into our affairs, but he is no fool. He understands that our presence on Arctis was significant."

Aenys’ eyes flickered with something unreadable, a mix of pride and concern. "And what of the Atreides? Did they ask about our technology?"

You shook your head. "Not directly, though they were curious. I left them with a… gift of goodwill, to ensure their cooperation in the future. A token, nothing more."

Aella, who had remained silent until now, spoke softly, her voice filled with quiet strength. "It seems House Atreides may be a useful ally for now. But we must tread carefully. The Imperium is full of vipers."

Aenys nodded, his gaze shifting between you and Aella. "Indeed. We must remain cautious, especially now that the Targaryen name has resurfaced in the galaxy."

At that, Maelor stepped forward, his voice calm but resolute. "Father, if our presence is now known, the other Houses will take notice. It’s only a matter of time before the Emperor himself becomes involved."

Aenys’ expression darkened slightly at the mention of the Emperor, his eyes narrowing. "Let him notice. We are not the weaklings he believes us to be."

There was a brief silence before Aenys rose from his seat, his eyes fixed on you and Aelor once more. "Our starships will be ready to depart soon. You both did well, but now we must prepare for what comes next. Ready your dragons for transport. We leave when the time is right."

You nodded, stepping forward. "Vexiae is already boarded and ready, father. She just needs time to recover from Arctis’ harsh climate."

Aenys’ gaze softened slightly, a rare moment of affection crossing his features. "Good. Rest, both of you. We have much to prepare for. The galaxy will soon know that the dragons of Val Anogar still burn bright."

With that, the council ended, and you and Aelor turned to leave the grand hall. The weight of what was to come hung over you both, but for now, there was comfort in being home—within the ancient walls of Val Anogar, surrounded by the heat of the dormant volcano and the legacy of your ancestors.

The dragons would fly again.

The waves outside Duke Leto Atreides' study crashed against the shores of Caladan, a sound that usually brought him peace but now only deepened his contemplation. Alone in the dimly lit room, Leto sat behind his heavy wooden desk, his fingers lightly drumming against its surface. The room was filled with ancient tapestries and books, the warmth of the past surrounding him, but his thoughts were elsewhere—far away, as they so often were ever since the encounter on Arctis.

He had sent his official report to the Emperor about the skirmish with the Harkonnens, carefully leaving out the most crucial details. And yet, no response had come. No inquiry, no reprimand. The silence from the Imperial throne left a bitter taste in Leto's mouth. It was unlike the Emperor to ignore something of such significance, and Leto couldn't help but feel that this silence was more ominous than any direct accusation would have been.

The dragon egg, the gift left to him by Daenys Targaryen, was safely locked away under strict guard. Only a select few even knew of its existence. It was a symbol of something far greater than just the Targaryens' return. It represented a link to a power long thought extinct, a legacy that could either strengthen or destroy House Atreides.

Leto’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of the door opening. He didn’t turn immediately, but he knew who it was. He could sense Jessica’s presence even before she spoke. There was an unspoken tension between them, one that had grown since his return from Arctis.

“You lied to me,” Jessica’s voice was steady, but there was an edge to it—an edge of betrayal.

Leto remained still, staring at the papers on his desk as though they held answers to the questions he couldn’t voice. He had known this moment would come, but he had hoped it would be later. He had hoped to find the right words, but now, faced with Jessica’s calm fury, those words seemed impossible to grasp.

“You never lied to me before, Leto,” Jessica continued, stepping further into the room. Her voice softened, but the hurt was still there, laced with suspicion. “But ever since you returned from that frozen planet, you’ve been… different. And now I know why. You’ve hidden things from me. You’ve hidden the truth.”

Leto’s fingers stilled on the desk, his shoulders tightening, but he still did not face her. He knew, with certainty, that the Bene Gesserit and the Emperor were already aware of much more than they let on. Whether by Harkonnen whispers or some other hand, the knowledge of what had transpired on Arctis had spread.

“You encountered something on Arctis,” Jessica pressed, her voice lowering to a careful tone. “What did you find there, Leto? What has been weighing on your mind so heavily?”

Leto finally turned to face her, his expression unreadable, his eyes shadowed with the burden of half-truths and decisions he had yet to fully reconcile. “We fought the Harkonnens,” he said simply, his voice calm, but there was a tension in his words. “They had established a base on a planet that falls under Atreides jurisdiction. Nothing more.”

Jessica’s face tightened, her frustration clear. Leto could see the shift in her eyes, the subtle tightening of her jaw, the way she held herself perfectly still. She had trained for years to read these signs in others, and now, even without her training, she could sense the lie in Leto’s words.

“You’re still not telling me everything,” Jessica said quietly, but there was steel in her voice. “I know you, Leto. I know when you’re keeping something from me. And I know that you encountered the Targaryens on Arctis. You allied with them. Why?”

Leto’s gaze flickered for a brief moment, but he refused to budge. “I made the decisions necessary to protect our House.”

“And yet you refuse to tell me the truth,” Jessica said, her tone accusatory but controlled. “You’ve never hidden things from me before. Why are they different? Why do they deserve your loyalty, so much so that you obscure the truth from me?”

Leto’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself. The Targaryens had been more than just an ancient power—they had been a revelation, a living link to something far older and far more dangerous than the politics of the Imperium. And Daenys… she had left an impression on him that he couldn’t quite shake.

Jessica took a step closer, her voice softer now, but no less urgent. “You know what this could mean for our House, for our family. You know the dangers. And yet you hide this from me?”

Leto’s silence was answer enough, and Jessica’s frustration bubbled to the surface. “The Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam will be arriving in two weeks,” she said sharply, her tone firm now. “She is coming to test Paul.”

The mention of Paul made Leto’s eyes flicker with concern, but still, he said nothing. His thoughts were elsewhere—still with the dragon egg locked away, still with the memory of Daenys and the weight of the alliance that had been formed in the cold of Arctis.

Jessica turned to leave, her movements brisk. But before she stepped out of the room, she cast one final glance back at Leto. “The Bene Gesserit are watching, Leto. And so is the Emperor. Whatever game you are playing with the Targaryens… I hope you know what you’re doing.”

And with that, she was gone, the door closing softly behind her, leaving Leto alone once more with his thoughts.

He stood in the silence for a long moment, his thoughts drifting back to the locked vault where the dragon egg was hidden. His mind swirled with the implications of what had transpired, with the choices he had made—and the ones he had yet to make.

His fingers lightly traced the surface of his desk as he whispered into the quiet, “What have we started?”

But even as the words left his lips, he knew that the answer to that question was far more dangerous than he had anticipated.

The air in Duke Leto Atreides' study was calm, the soft sounds of the sea outside filling the silence as Gurney Halleck and the Duke spoke quietly. Gurney, as always, had a warmth about him, even when discussing matters of importance. His baliset sat on the desk beside him, and for a moment, Leto allowed himself the faintest hint of a smile at the familiar presence of his trusted friend.

It had been several days since his last conversation with Jessica, but the weight of her words still lingered in the back of his mind. The Reverend Mother was due to arrive soon, and the tension between the Bene Gesserit and the events on Arctis gnawed at him, ever-present.

As Gurney continued talking about troop movements and preparations, the door to the study opened, and Thufir Hawat stepped inside, his usual stack of daily reports in hand. Hawat’s face was calm, but Leto could always detect the subtle intensity behind his Mentat’s eyes.

“My Lord,” Hawat began, his voice even as he placed the reports on Leto’s desk. “The daily reports, as always. But there’s something else that may be of interest.”

Leto looked up from his conversation with Gurney, intrigued. “Go on, Thufir.”

Hawat’s eyes flicked between Gurney and Leto before he continued. “There have been whispers circulating in the Landsraad. Rumors that Arrakis may soon be taken from the Harkonnens.”

The room fell into a brief silence, the weight of Hawat’s words sinking in. Leto’s brow furrowed in confusion and interest. “Arrakis? Taken from the Harkonnens?” He leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping thoughtfully on the arm of his chair. “Does this have something to do with their invasion of our territory on Arctis? Or the events there?”

Hawat gave a small shake of his head. “It’s unclear. These are only whispers for now—rumors that have yet to solidify into anything concrete. But I will continue to keep an ear to the ground. If there is truth to these whispers, it could change much.”

Leto sat back in his chair, his mind working through the possibilities. Arrakis, the source of spice—the most valuable substance in the known universe. If the Harkonnens were to lose it, it would be a crippling blow to their power. But why? What had sparked such rumors?

“I want to know if there is any movement on this,” Leto said firmly. “Arrakis falling into the hands of another House would change the balance of power in the Imperium. And if the Emperor is involved…”

Hawat nodded, his expression sharp. “I will keep you informed, my Lord.”

Before they could delve further into the matter, Gurney broke the silence, his tone lighter but carrying a hint of nostalgia. “You know,” Gurney said, shifting in his chair, “that Targaryen lass—she never had a chance to sing for us after the battle.”

Leto’s expression changed ever so slightly, a subtle shift that only those close to him would notice. His gaze flicked away for a moment, as though the mention of Daenys Targaryen had pulled his thoughts somewhere else, somewhere far from the reports and politics of Caladan. It wasn’t the first time Gurney had brought her up in conversation, and each time, Leto’s response had been the same—a brief pause, a distant look.

Hawat, ever the observant Mentat, caught the shift immediately. He had noticed it before, the subtle changes in the Duke’s demeanor whenever the Targaryens were mentioned, particularly the young woman who had fought at his side. There was something there, something that had become a habit for the Duke—a habit of quiet reflection, of thinking of what had passed on Arctis and of what had been left unsaid.

Gurney, seemingly oblivious to the deeper implications, chuckled softly. “I suppose it was too much to ask for a song after everything. But still, I can’t help but wonder what the voice of a dragon sounds like.”

Leto’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps another time, Gurney,” he said softly, though there was a weight to his words that hinted at more than just the missed opportunity for music.

Hawat, standing quietly at the edge of the room, made a mental note of the exchange, just as he had done all the other times before. The Duke’s mind was often elsewhere these days—drifting back to Arctis, to the Targaryens, to the dragon egg locked away under strict guard. It was not unlike Leto to carry the burdens of his House, but this… this was different. There was something personal about it, something deeper.

But for now, Hawat said nothing, filing the observation away for future consideration. There were more pressing matters at hand—Arrakis, the Emperor, and the Bene Gesserit’s looming visit. The time for reflection would come later.

Leto rose from his chair, his expression hardening once more as he looked over the reports in front of him. “We’ll keep an eye on these whispers about Arrakis. But for now, we focus on the task at hand. The Emperor has been silent for too long, and that silence is more dangerous than any accusation.”

Gurney nodded, his playful demeanor fading as the weight of their responsibilities returned. “Aye, my Lord. We’ll be ready.”

Hawat bowed his head slightly, his sharp eyes still flickering with the thoughts he did not speak aloud. “I will ensure we remain vigilant.”

The thick, acrid air of Giedi Prime hung heavy in the dimly lit chambers of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. The stench of industry and decay permeated the fortress as the Baron sat at his massive desk, the weight of his corpulent form causing the chair to creak under the strain. Before him stood his Mentat, Piter De Vries, the cunning and cruel man who served as the Baron’s most trusted advisor. Beside him, Feyd-Rautha leaned casually against the wall, his eyes gleaming with barely concealed malice.

The moment had come—one the Baron had been expecting, but not quite so soon.

Piter stepped forward, a small, intricately designed cylinder in his hand, embossed with the sigil of House Corrino. He placed it carefully on the desk before the Baron, his expression a mask of cold efficiency. “A message from the Emperor, my Lord,” Piter said, his voice smooth and calculating.

Baron Vladimir Harkonnen scowled, his bloated fingers grasping the cylinder with surprising speed. With a flick of his wrist, the seal broke, and the message unfurled in front of him, displaying the imperial writ in cold, precise words.

As the Baron read, his face darkened with fury. His beady eyes narrowed, and the veins in his forehead pulsed with barely contained rage. Feyd, watching from the side, could already see the shift in his uncle’s demeanor. The message was not what they had hoped.

Finally, with a low growl, the Baron slammed his fist onto the desk, causing the cylinder to roll onto the floor with a metallic clatter. Feyd straightened, intrigued by the sudden display of anger.

“The Emperor,” the Baron hissed, his voice trembling with anger, “has seen fit to remove House Harkonnen as the stewards of Arrakis.”

Feyd raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smile. “Remove us? He’s giving Arrakis to House Atreides?”

The Baron’s eyes flicked to his nephew, the fury in them unmistakable. “Yes, Feyd. To House Atreides.”

For a moment, there was silence in the room, save for the faint hum of machinery in the distance. Piter De Vries, ever observant, stepped forward cautiously. “This was the plan, my Lord, was it not? To lure the Atreides to Arrakis, to make them overconfident, and then strike?”

“Yes,” the Baron snapped, his voice sharp with impatience. “That was the plan. But it’s happening too soon.” His beady eyes narrowed, the wheels of his mind turning with increasing speed. “Something has accelerated the Emperor’s timeline.”

Piter tilted his head, his sharp mind already calculating the possibilities. “Perhaps the events on Arctis?” he suggested. “Our reports of Duke Leto aiding the Targaryens have reached the Emperor. It would make sense that Shaddam sees both Houses as a growing threat.”

The mention of the Targaryens made the Baron’s expression darken even further. The ancient, forgotten House had reappeared far too soon, disrupting their carefully laid plans. The Emperor’s sudden decision to strip House Harkonnen of Arrakis and hand it to the Atreides was not just a trap—it was a reaction born out of fear.

“The Emperor is afraid,” the Baron muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Shaddam feels threatened. He knows House Atreides is gaining power, and now, with Targaryens at their side, he fears they will grow too strong.”

Feyd smirked. “So, he hopes to deal with the Atreides first, before the dragons become a bigger problem.”

The Baron leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he considered the situation. “Yes,” he growled, his mind working through the Emperor’s plan. “Shaddam wants them out of the way. He needs one threat removed before the other arrives.”

Piter nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place. “Arrakis is the bait. He gives it to Duke Leto, hoping to weaken both Houses in the process. If we fail, the Atreides will grow stronger. But if we succeed… the Targaryens may become his next target.”

The Baron’s face twisted into a sinister smile. “Shaddam is playing a dangerous game. But so are we.”

Feyd chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Then we play along, Uncle. We let the Atreides take Arrakis, and when the time is right…”

The Baron’s smile widened, his bloated form shifting with barely contained glee. “Yes, Feyd. We crush them. And when the dust settles, we’ll be the ones standing.”

The tension in the room dissipated slightly, though the lingering threat of the Targaryens remained like a shadow over their plans. The Baron knew that they had to tread carefully, for the dragons were no mere legends—they were a living, breathing force that could change the balance of power in the Imperium forever.

But for now, they would focus on the task at hand: Arrakis.

And the fall of House Atreides.

The Baron’s laugh echoed through the chamber, dark and malevolent, as he leaned forward in his chair, already plotting his next move.

“Prepare the forces, Piter,” the Baron ordered, his voice low and dangerous. “The game is in motion.”

As Piter bowed and left the room, Feyd stepped closer to the Baron, his grin never fading. “Do you think the Atreides will see this coming?”

The Baron’s eyes gleamed with malice. “It doesn’t matter if they do, Feyd. By the time they realize what’s happening, it will be too late.”

Outside, the industrial machines of Giedi Prime continued their endless work, the smoke rising into the darkened sky.

The Landsraad summit was held on the neutral planet of Sardalon, a world known for its vast halls and towering spires that stretched toward the sky like the fingers of ancient gods. The great assembly chamber, where the most powerful Houses of the Imperium gathered, was packed with delegates and dignitaries, all murmuring amongst themselves in low, hushed tones. Duke Leto Atreides stood among them, his posture tall and composed, though his mind was far from at ease.

The whispers of the Atreides' impending stewardship of Arrakis weighed heavily on him. While there had been no official word yet from the Emperor, the rumors were swirling through the ranks of the Landsraad. Leto knew it was only a matter of time before a formal announcement was made, and the eyes of the Imperium would turn to his House. The Harkonnens would not take this loss lightly, and the political storm that followed would be fierce.

Beside him, as always, was Thufir Hawat, his sharp eyes scanning the room, assessing every conversation and movement. The Mentat could feel the tension in the air. Every House present seemed to be watching Leto with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, waiting for the inevitable confirmation that the Atreides would soon control the most valuable planet in the universe.

Leto’s own thoughts were interrupted as he noticed the Emperor Shaddam IV himself seated at the head of the chamber. Despite his regal composure, there was something unsettling about the way Shaddam held himself today. He was fidgeting, his eyes darting toward the entrance of the hall as if expecting something—or someone.

Leto’s gaze narrowed as one of Shaddam’s commanders rushed to his side, leaning in close to whisper something urgent in the Emperor’s ear. Whatever the message was, it made Shaddam’s face drain of color. The Emperor shot to his feet, alarm flashing across his features.

A ripple of silence washed over the summit as the grand doors at the far end of the hall began to open slowly. The noise of conversation ceased entirely as all eyes turned toward the entrance. Leto felt his heart skip a beat, an inexplicable sense of foreboding settling over him.

Through the open doors, a party stepped forward, dressed in colors that made Leto’s blood run cold. Black and red, the unmistakable colors of House Targaryen, emblazoned with their three-headed dragon sigil. The sight of it seemed to suck the air from the room, and Leto could feel the collective intake of breath from the gathered Houses as they recoiled in shock and surprise.

At the head of the Targaryen delegation was a figure Leto did not recognize but immediately presumed to be the patriarch of the family. His presence was commanding, his silver hair flowing over his shoulders, and his face a mixture of regal authority and barely concealed disdain. He walked with purpose, his steps echoing through the now-silent chamber, and behind him followed two others—Aelor, the young man Leto had met on Arctis, and another younger man who bore a striking resemblance to Daenys. And then, there was her. Daenys herself—you, the Targaryen woman who had left a mark on Leto's mind, stood beside her family, her face calm but unreadable, her eyes sharp as she surveyed the gathered nobility.

Behind them came a full delegation of Targaryen attendants, all dressed in the black and red of their House, each one carrying themselves with the same air of quiet power that the Targaryens had always been known for.

Leto’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the Targaryens approach the center of the hall. He hadn’t expected this—not here, not now. Beside him, Hawat stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation, no doubt calculating the political ramifications of the Targaryens’ sudden appearance.

The silence in the room was broken by Emperor Shaddam, who, unable to contain his anger and confusion, shouted across the hall. “What is the meaning of this?” His voice echoed off the stone walls, his composure shattered by the sudden, unexpected arrival of the long-lost dragons.

The Targaryen patriarch didn’t falter. His gaze, cold and unyielding, fixed on Shaddam as he strode forward with deliberate steps. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but carried a weight that silenced even the Emperor.

“The seat of House Targaryen on these gatherings,” he began, his tone firm and unwavering, “has been empty for far too long.”

A murmur rippled through the chamber, the gathered Houses exchanging stunned glances. No one had expected this. The Targaryens had been thought extinct, their power diminished after their long exile beyond the reach of the Imperium. And now, here they were, standing in the very heart of the Imperium’s political structure, reclaiming their place.

Leto’s mind raced as he processed what was happening. The Targaryens were no longer hiding in the shadows—they had returned, and they were making their presence known in the most public and dramatic way possible. The implications of this were staggering.

He glanced at Hawat, who remained as still as ever, though Leto could tell from the slight tightening of his lips that the Mentat was already calculating every possible outcome of this development. “This complicates things,” Hawat murmured, his voice low so that only Leto could hear.

Leto nodded, his gaze still fixed on the Targaryen patriarch as he stood before Shaddam. “Indeed it does.”

The Emperor, now visibly shaken, glared at the Targaryens, but it was clear he had been caught off guard. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he seemed unsure of what to say. The authority he usually wielded so effortlessly seemed to falter in the face of the Targaryens’ return.

The Targaryen patriarch held Shaddam’s gaze for a long moment before continuing, “House Targaryen demands that its rightful place in the Landsraad be restored.”

The anomasity in the room was palpable, and Leto could feel the eyes of every noble in the chamber turning toward Shaddam, waiting for his response.

Leto’s heart pounded in his chest. This was no ordinary political maneuver. 

You stood beside your father, Aenys Targaryen, watching him as he strode with measured steps toward Emperor Shaddam IV. The suspense in the air was oppressive, almost suffocating, as every pair of eyes in the room fixated on your family. It was clear that your father relished the effect of his presence—the ancient House Targaryen, thought to be long dead, had come to stake its claim in the heart of the Imperium.

The hall was vast, lined with banners of the great Houses of the Landsraad, but the air felt stifling, and beneath the stony silence, you could feel the panic rippling among the assembled nobles. This was not how they expected the summit to go. Not with dragons in the room.

Your father’s presence dominated the space as he approached the Emperor. His pale blond hair, much like your own, seemed to catch the light as he moved, his armor glinting with the red and black sigil of House Targaryen. Shaddam’s expression was unreadable at first, his shock barely concealed. But as the Emperor’s guards reacted, moving to step forward, your father remained unimpressed, his expression one of almost casual disdain.

You could see it in his eyes—he saw the Emperor’s guards as nothing more than posturing lions just like the Corrino sigil. They could roar, but in the presence of dragons, what use was a roar?

"Speak like a man, Shaddam, if you have something to say." Your father’s voice cut through the silence, deep and unwavering. He wasn’t here for pleasantries, and the challenge in his tone was unmistakable.

The guards hesitated, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons, but they knew better than to act rashly in the middle of the Landsraad chamber. Shaddam, for a moment, seemed to struggle to find his voice, his composure cracking under the weight of your father’s commanding presence. You could sense it—the Emperor’s fear. It wasn’t something he wore openly, but in the way his fingers trembled just slightly at his side.

Finally, Shaddam spoke, his voice colder than before, but the edge of uncertainty remained. "Your House was not invited, Aenys. The seat of House Targaryen was removed from this council long ago."

Your father scoffed, the sound reverberating through the chamber. He looked around the room, his eyes sweeping over the gathered nobles, as if to gauge the reactions of the assembled Houses. You could feel the unease growing, like a living thing crawling beneath the surface.

"Removed," your father repeated, his voice laced with sarcasm. "But that was long ago, wasn’t it? And yet, here we are. The dragons are not so easily erased, Shaddam."

You felt a surge of pride, your heart pounding in your chest as your father’s words echoed through the hall. He had spent decades preparing for this moment—waiting for the right time to reveal your House to the Imperium once more. And now, here you were, standing before the Emperor himself, reclaiming the seat that had been taken from you.

"We are staying," your father declared, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. Without waiting for a response from Shaddam, he turned and gestured for your family to follow him toward the available seating in the chamber.

As you moved, your brother Aelor leaned in, his voice low but laced with a hint of amusement. "The Duke of Atreides is here," he murmured, his eyes flicking toward the far side of the room where Duke Leto Atreides stood with his entourage.

Your gaze followed Aelor’s, and sure enough, there was Leto, his face a mask of composure, though his eyes were focused sharply on your family. His presence stirred something in you, a memory of Arctis, of the battles fought side by side. You had left him with a token of goodwill—the dragon egg. And though your paths had diverged since that moment, you couldn’t deny the quiet connection that still lingered.

Your twin, Maelor, caught your gaze, his expression unreadable. He had always been the more observant of the two of you, and as his eyes flicked toward Leto, you could tell he was studying the Duke carefully.

"Interesting," Maelor mused, his tone soft but thoughtful. "There’s more to him than meets the eye. His House is… rising. You can feel it."

You didn’t respond, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Maelor was right. House Atreides was on the brink of something momentous—just as your own House had returned from the shadows.

The nobles around you whispered among themselves as your family took their seats, the weight of your presence still hanging over the chamber like a storm cloud. The Landsraad summit, meant to be another ordinary meeting of the Imperium’s elite, had been irrevocably changed. The dragons had returned, and the balance of power was shifting.

The Landsraad chamber had erupted into a low murmur of voices, the once still and solemn atmosphere shattered by the arrival of House Targaryen. Emperor Shaddam IV remained rooted to his spot, his face frozen in shock and frustration. The neutral ground of the Landsraad summit had tied his hands—he couldn’t act against the Targaryens here, not in this hall, where every noble House was watching. The weight of indecision hung heavy in the room, as none of the gathered Houses knew how to react to the sudden return of the dragons.

At the far side of the chamber, Duke Leto Atreides stood with Thufir Hawat and the rest of his delegation. The low hum of conversation around them did little to ease the intent gnawing at Leto’s mind. His fingers absentmindedly twisted the ancestral signet ring on his finger, the red hawk in flight carved into the metal catching the light of the hall. It was a nervous habit, one he didn’t even realize he was doing, but Hawat noticed.

“You’re fidgeting, my Lord,” Hawat said quietly, his sharp eyes catching the subtle movement. “That’s never a good sign.”

Leto’s gaze flickered toward Hawat, but his thoughts were elsewhere—focused on the Targaryen patriarch, Aenys Targaryen, who had just taken his seat. The tension between them had yet to break, and Leto felt a pull, a quiet sense of urgency that he couldn’t ignore.

“I need to speak with them,” Leto said, his voice low but firm.

Hawat’s brow furrowed in concern. “My Lord, approaching them now will only draw the Emperor’s gaze even more toward us. You know how dangerous that could be. The Targaryens may be a powerful ally, but Shaddam will not take kindly to you aligning yourself openly with them, especially after what we’ve heard about Arrakis.”

Leto nodded, fully aware of the consequences. The Emperor’s sudden decision to strip the Harkonnens of Arrakis and give the planet to House Atreides had already set events in motion that could lead to disaster. Any further association with the Targaryens would only amplify the tension.

“I know,” Leto said quietly. “But this is something I have to do. I can’t explain it, Thufir, but there’s something here that goes beyond the politics of the moment. I must speak with them.”

Hawat observed the Duke for a long moment, calculating the risks, the possibilities. He could see the determination in Leto’s eyes, the quiet resolve that had driven him to make decisions like this in the past. Leto was a careful man, but when his mind was set, there was no stopping him.

“Very well,” Hawat said with a sigh. “But be cautious. The other Houses are watching, and so is the Emperor.”

Leto gave a small nod of thanks before stepping forward, his heart pounding in his chest. The crowd in the chamber parted nervously as he made his way toward the Targaryen delegation, his tall frame cutting a path through the sea of nobles. He could feel the weight of their stares, the curiosity and unease that rippled through the room as they watched the Duke of Atreides approach the dragons.

Hawat and the rest of Leto’s delegation followed closely behind, their expressions tense but professional. As they neared the Targaryens, Leto stopped for a moment, his breath catching in his throat as Aenys Targaryen locked eyes with him.

For a brief moment, time seemed to still. The patriarch’s gaze was powerful, sharp, and calculating. His silver hair gleamed in the light, and his presence commanded respect. But there was something more—something in his eyes that radiated both power and ancient wisdom. Leto felt a flicker of fear, a primal instinct that warned him of the danger of approaching this man, but alongside that fear was an undeniable respect.

Leto took a deep breath and continued forward, his resolve firm. When he finally reached the Targaryens, he bowed slightly, his hand resting over his chest. “Duke Leto Atreides of Caladan,” he said, his voice steady. “It is an honor.”

Aenys studied Leto for a moment before nodding in acknowledgment. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and calm, but there was an underlying strength that made it clear why he was the head of his House. “I know who you are, Duke Leto. My children speak highly of you. They tell me that you were of great assistance on Arctis.”

Leto’s breath caught slightly at the mention of Arctis. His mind immediately went to the battles they had fought there, the Harkonnen forces, and the alliance that had formed in the cold of that frozen planet. He felt Aelor’s eyes on him, and then… you. He couldn’t help it—his gaze flicked to you for just a moment, catching your eyes before he quickly refocused on Aenys.

“It was my honor to fight alongside your House, Lord Aenys,” Leto said, his voice quieter now, more personal. “The Harkonnens are a plague on the Imperium, and it was… refreshing to have allies that fight with such skill and honor.”

Aenys’s expression softened slightly, though his face remained unreadable. “Your House, too, fought with honor. I thank you for that.” He paused, glancing at his son Aelor, then at you, his daughter. “They speak highly of you, Duke Leto. Both of them.”

Leto resisted the urge to glance again at you, though he could feel the intensity of your presence beside your father. The weight of your House was felt, and it was not lost on him that you had left an indelible mark on him since Arctis.

Aenys took a step closer, his voice lowering slightly so that only those nearby could hear. “But you should know, Duke, that the game we play is far more dangerous than any skirmish on a frozen planet. The Emperor watches us all, and the power that we wield is a threat to him.”

Leto nodded slowly, his gaze steady. “I know, Lord Aenys. But some things… must be done, regardless of the consequences.”

Aenys’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. “Perhaps you and I are not so different, after all.”

The room around them was still heavy, the nobles whispering among themselves, unsure of what to make of this exchange. The Emperor’s gaze was surely upon them, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. Leto had made his move, and the path before him was clearer than ever.

As Aenys stepped back, Leto caught one last glance from you. Your eyes met his for just a moment, and in that brief exchange, something unspoken passed between you. An understanding, perhaps. Or maybe something more.

As Duke Leto Atreides and his delegation stepped back from the encounter with House Targaryen, the uncertainty in the Landsraad chamber remained visible. The murmur of voices swirled around them, carrying a mixture of curiosity, confusion, and thinly veiled anxiety. The unexpected return of the Targaryens had left everyone off balance, but Leto felt a different kind of unease creeping up his spine. He had just crossed an invisible line by speaking openly with the Targaryens, and he knew the Emperor’s gaze would be on him even more sharply now.

As Leto moved through the throngs of nobles, he caught sight of two figures cutting a path toward him through the crowd. Serus and Xyla, representatives of House Ix, moved with a quiet confidence, their expressions guarded but their interest unmistakable. Leto had dealt with the Ixians before—they were known for their technological prowess and their inscrutable nature. But their presence here, at this moment, sent a ripple of unease through him.

Serus reached Leto first, offering a polite nod, his smile thin and enigmatic. “Duke Leto,” he said, his voice smooth. “It seems we find ourselves with… common friends these days.”

Beside him, Xyla offered a smile of her own, though it was as calculated as her brother’s. “Yes, we couldn’t help but notice your conversation with Lord Aenys. The Targaryens are quite an intriguing family, wouldn’t you agree?”

Leto studied the two of them carefully, his expression guarded. The Ixians had always been skilled in the art of speaking without saying much at all, and their sudden approach was far from accidental. “They are… certainly not what one expects,” Leto replied, keeping his tone neutral. “But I don’t believe that’s what you’ve come to discuss.”

Xyla’s smile widened ever so slightly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re right, Duke. We are always open to mutually beneficial exchanges. Should you ever find yourself interested in a… deeper conversation about matters that concern us all, House Ix would be more than willing to accommodate.”

Serus inclined his head, adding, “The Emperor’s attention is rarely focused on any one thing for long, after all. Discretion can be valuable in times like these.”

With that, the two of them turned and drifted back into the crowd, leaving Leto with more questions than answers. The offer was clear enough—House Ix was offering to be a potential ally, or at least a partner in whatever schemes might unfold in the shadows. But there was something unnerving about the way they had delivered the message, a sense that the Ixians saw far more than they let on.

Leto exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the sense of unease. He turned to Hawat, who had remained close by, ever the watchful guardian. “They make it sound like they want to be friends,” Leto murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But somehow, that only leaves me feeling more exposed than before.”

Hawat’s expression tightened into a knowing smirk, but he said nothing about the Ixians. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his voice low and deliberate. “If you truly wish to speak with the Targaryens under less scrutinizing conditions, my Lord, it would be best to do so on their departure from this planet. Less chance of prying ears and curious eyes.”

Leto nodded slowly, his mind already turning over the possibilities. If he could arrange a private meeting with Aenys and his children—especially you—he might gain some insight into what the Targaryens truly wanted, and why they had chosen now to reveal themselves. But there was also risk in such a meeting, a risk he could not ignore.

Before he could dwell on it further, Leto allowed his gaze to drift back across the room, seeking out you one last time. You stood beside your brother Aelor, your expression composed but your presence as striking as ever amidst the sea of noble delegates. Leto couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of anticipation, a connection that tugged at him despite the chasm of your circumstances.

As he turned back to face Hawat, he caught the faintest hint of amusement in the Mentat’s eyes, a rare crack in his usually stony demeanor. Hawat, of course, had noticed the direction of his thoughts, but the old man said nothing. He merely raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk still lingering at the edges of his lips.

Leto straightened his shoulders, casting off the moment of vulnerability. “Make the necessary preparations, Thufir. If we are to speak with the Targaryens again, we will do so on our terms.”

Hawat nodded, his smirk fading back into his usual stern expression. “As you command, my Lord.”

And with that, the Duke of House Atreides turned his focus back to the gathering around him, the weight of the day pressing heavily on his mind. He knew that whatever path lay ahead, it would be one fraught with danger and intrigue. But as he thought again of the Targaryens, of the dragons that had returned to the Landsraad, he couldn’t help but feel that this was a risk worth taking.

The docking bay of Sardalon’s spaceport was a cavernous expanse, its ceilings stretching high above the bustling activity of noble delegations and the mechanized whirring of starships. The air was filled with the low hum of engines, the clanking of cargo being loaded, and the murmurs of dignitaries exchanging parting words before they left the neutral world behind.

Duke Leto Atreides moved through the bay with his delegation, Thufir Hawat close at his side, ever watchful of the surroundings. As they walked, Leto’s gaze caught sight of a starship that stood out among the more familiar crafts of the Landsraad nobles. The sleek, black hull of the Targaryen starship, Aegon's Flame, gleamed under the harsh lights of the docking bay, its design unlike anything else in the Imperium. It was a vessel of shadow and flame, a stark reminder of the ancient power that the Targaryens represented.

The presence of the Targaryen ship had clearly made an impression. Nobles either stared at it in thinly veiled fascination or kept their distance, their expressions tinged with fear. Whispers spread through the bay, the tension from the summit still lingering in the air like the aftershock of a thunderstorm.

As Leto’s gaze moved across the scene, he spotted you—Daenys Targaryen—standing near the boarding ramp of the ship, your family gathered around you. Aenys was deep in conversation with Aelor and Maelor, giving them last-minute instructions before their departure. Your brothers turned and ascended the ramp, disappearing into the shadows of the ship, followed closely by other members of the Targaryen delegation.

Just then, as if sensing his presence, you turned and met Leto’s gaze from across the bay. Your expression shifted, curiosity mingling with recognition, and you raised a hand to halt your father, who paused mid-sentence, his eyes following your line of sight.

Leto took a deep breath, glancing at Hawat. The Mentat’s gaze was steady, offering a subtle nod—his way of signaling that everything had been arranged as planned. Hawat had made contact with the Targaryens earlier, ensuring that this meeting would occur away from prying eyes. Leto, needing to avoid attracting too much attention, adjusted his pace and approached separately from his delegation, weaving through the bustling nobles and workers.

As he neared, you remained by your father’s side, your expression still guarded but curious. Aenys, ever the formidable presence, turned to face Leto fully, his pale eyes narrowing with interest as the Duke of Atreides came to a stop before you both.

“Duke Leto,” Aenys greeted him, his voice a deep, measured tone that carried easily above the noise of the bay. “You approach us again. I take it you have something of importance to discuss before we depart?”

Leto inclined his head respectfully, catching his breath as he took in the sight of the Targaryen patriarch and his daughter standing before him. The presence of Aenys was as commanding as ever, but he could feel your eyes on him as well, watchful and discerning.

“Lord Aenys,” Leto replied, his voice steady. “Lady Daenys. I apologize for the abrupt approach, but there is much that remains unsaid between our Houses, and little time to speak of it here. I would ask for a few moments of your time before you depart.”

Aenys studied Leto for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Behind him, the Aegon’s Flame loomed like a shadowed sentinel, its ramp still extended as if waiting. The nobles in the bay continued to cast curious glances toward the encounter, their whispers rising as they tried to discern what business the Atreides Duke might have with the newly returned dragons.

Finally, Aenys gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Very well, Duke Leto,” he said, his voice carrying a note of curiosity. “Speak, then. What is it that weighs so heavily on your mind?”

Leto hesitated for a fraction of a second, glancing at you briefly. There was a flicker of something in your gaze—something unspoken but not unfriendly. Then, he turned his attention fully to Aenys, gathering his thoughts before speaking.

“I came to speak of what lies ahead,” Leto began, his voice low, but with a sense of urgency. “We find ourselves in a time of shifting alliances and dangerous currents. The Emperor may believe he holds the power, but I sense that both our Houses see the truth of the matter—that House Atreides and House Targaryen have become… focal points in a larger game.”

Aenys’s expression remained impassive, but his eyes gleamed with a sharp intelligence. “The Emperor is a creature of fear, Duke Leto. He fears your House because you have gained the respect of many. And now, with Arrakis to be transferred to your stewardship, his fear only grows. But you are right—there is more at play than the Emperor wishes to admit.”

Leto nodded, encouraged by Aenys’s willingness to engage. He took a step closer, his voice dropping to ensure that only you and Aenys could hear. “What happened on Arctis—the alliance that formed there—was more than just a temporary arrangement. I believe there is potential for something greater. House Atreides is on the brink of new responsibilities, and we cannot face what is to come alone.”

Aenys regarded him with a thoughtful expression, his fingers tapping lightly against the edge of his cloak. You stood beside him, your presence a steady reminder of the battles fought on Arctis, the shared struggle that had forged an unspoken bond between your House and the Atreides.

“Your House faces a dangerous path, Duke Leto,” Aenys said finally, his tone contemplative. “As do we. But alliances are forged through trust and necessity, and it remains to be seen whether our goals align. Why should I believe that the ambitions of House Atreides are not like those of every other House, seeking power and advantage in the shadows of this Imperium?”

Leto hesitated, then glanced at you again, as if seeking some hint of your thoughts. The brief look you exchanged seemed to hold a world of unspoken questions, but he turned back to Aenys with a steadiness that belied the uncertainty of the moment.

“Because,” Leto said, his voice quiet but firm, “I believe that your House, like mine, understands the need for honor in the face of treachery. And in these times, I think that understanding is worth more than any crown or title.”

Aenys considered this, his expression softening slightly as he measured Leto’s sincerity. Then, he glanced at you, a silent question in his eyes that you understood without words.

You nodded subtly, a decision forming in your mind, though you kept your face calm and controlled. The encounter might be brief, but it was clear that the Duke’s words had left an impression, and that this was not the last time your Houses would cross paths.

Aenys turned back to Leto, giving a slight incline of his head. “Very well, Duke Leto. When the time comes, let us see if your House holds true to its word. Until then, we have much to prepare for, and you have much to consider on Caladan.”

Leto bowed slightly, sensing that the conversation was coming to an end. “Thank you, Lord Aenys. Until we meet again.”

With that, Aenys turned back toward the ramp, signaling for you to follow. But just before you did, you caught Leto’s gaze one last time, offering a slight, enigmatic smile that lingered in his thoughts long after you had disappeared into the shadows of the Aegon’s Flame.

As Leto rejoined his delegation, Hawat met his gaze with a raised eyebrow, his expression a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “You made quite the impression, my Lord. I trust it was worth the risk?”

Leto let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his mind still turning over the words exchanged, the possibilities that lay ahead. “It was, Thufir. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it with our eyes open.”

The ramp of the Targaryen starship retracted, and Leto watched as the Aegon’s Flame began to rise from the docking bay, disappearing into the skies above Sardalon. He couldn’t help but feel that this was only the beginning—that the threads of fate were weaving a new tapestry, one that would bind House Atreides and House Targaryen in ways neither could yet foresee.

...

The booming hum of suspensors cut through the noise of the bustling docking bay, a sound that had become all too familiar over the years. It was the sound of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, a presence that few could mistake or ignore. The hair on the back of Duke Leto Atreides' neck stood on end as the deep, sneering voice of the Baron echoed through the cavernous space, stopping Leto in his tracks as he made his way back to the Atreides starship.

Hawat, ever alert, stiffened beside Leto, his hand instinctively moving to the knife hidden beneath his cloak. The Atreides soldiers, stationed around their Duke, tensed, ready to defend him. But Leto held up a hand, signaling them to stand down, even as his own pulse quickened. The Baron might have approached alone, without his usual retinue of Harkonnen brutes, but his presence was no less dangerous.

Baron Vladimir Harkonnen drifted closer, his bulk supported by the gravity-defying suspensors, a twisted smile spreading across his face as he took in the sight of Leto and his men. His beady eyes gleamed with something like amusement, as if the entire situation was one of his private jokes.

“Well, well, Duke Leto,” the Baron’s voice rumbled, thick with mockery. “You and the Targaryens certainly know how to put on a show, don’t you? Not unlike what you pulled on that frozen ice ball, Arctis. Quite the performance, indeed.”

Leto turned to face the Baron fully, his expression carefully neutral. He would not give the Harkonnen the satisfaction of seeing his irritation. “Baron,” he greeted curtly, his tone cold. “If you have something to say, then say it. I have no time for games.”

The Baron chuckled, a low, menacing sound that reverberated through the air. He drifted closer, until the distance between them was uncomfortably short, and Leto could smell the metallic scent of the Harkonnen’s suspensor mechanisms. Hawat shifted slightly, ready to intervene if necessary, but he kept his stance carefully measured.

“What I want?” The Baron’s voice dropped, adopting a more sinister tone as he leaned forward slightly, his shadow looming over Leto despite the suspensors that buoyed his mass. “What I want, Duke, is to remind you that you are playing a very dangerous game, one that could see your House burned to ashes if you’re not careful.”

Leto’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice even. “You come to me with warnings, Baron, but I see no reason to heed them. Your House has already lost much, and you’re clinging to what little remains of your power. What could you possibly threaten me with now?”

The Baron’s smile widened, revealing yellowed teeth. He glanced over Leto’s shoulder, toward the distant Targaryen starship that was slowly ascending into the sky, its sleek form disappearing into the red-hued atmosphere of Sardalon.

“Oh, I have my ways, Duke. You may have the favor of the Emperor for now, but that could change in an instant. And as for your new friends, the Targaryens…” His eyes gleamed with malice. “I couldn’t help but notice the way you steal glances at the Dragonlord’s daughter.”

Leto’s face remained impassive, but he felt a sudden surge of anger, a cold knot tightening in his chest at the Baron’s insinuations. He forced himself to stay calm, refusing to let the Harkonnen’s words rattle him.

Baron Harkonnen continued, his voice dripping with faux sympathy. “Oh, I’ve seen that look before, Duke. It’s always the same with men like you, always thinking they can charm their way into places they don’t belong. But I’d be careful if I were you, hmm? Feyd-Rautha has a… particular interest in that girl. He’s a persistent sort, my nephew.”

Leto’s expression darkened, his gaze locking with the Baron’s, but he refused to take the bait. “If your nephew wishes to challenge the Targaryens, he’s welcome to try,” he said evenly. “But I imagine he’ll find dragons far less forgiving than you, Baron.”

The Baron’s smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, letting out another oily laugh. “Such bravado, Duke Leto. But remember, the Imperium is not kind to those who step out of line. And neither am I.”

Without waiting for a response, the Baron drifted back, his laughter lingering in the air like a dark cloud as he turned and floated away, his suspensors carrying him back toward the shadows of the docking bay. Leto watched him go, his fists clenching at his sides, every fiber of his being resisting the urge to draw his blade.

Behind him, Hawat moved closer, his voice low and urgent. “My Lord, the Baron is growing desperate. He wouldn’t have approached you like this unless he felt cornered. But we must tread carefully. He knows about your interest in the Targaryen girl, and he will use that against you.”

Leto took a deep breath, letting the tension bleed out of his shoulders as he forced himself to focus. “I know, Thufir. But I won’t let him intimidate me. Not now, not ever.”

Hawat nodded, though his gaze remained watchful, his mind clearly racing with the implications of the Baron’s words. “We should leave this place, my Lord. The Targaryens have departed, and the longer we remain here, the more attention we draw.”

Leto spared one last glance toward the skies where the Aegon’s Flame had disappeared, and then turned back to his own starship. The encounter with the Baron left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he knew that the game they were playing was far from over.

As he boarded the Atreides starship with his delegation, his thoughts lingered on the Targaryens—on Aenys, on you, and the storm that was brewing within the Imperium. Whatever came next, he would face it head-on, just as he always had. And he would not let the shadows of the Harkonnens or the threats of the Emperor dictate his path.

[zapreportsblog]

Hello. Yandere Miguel O'Hara and female reader. The reader catches Miguel's eye after she joins the spider community. After a while, Miguel realizes that he wants to find the reader waiting for him to come home from work at the house where they will live together. And with at least five children.

❝a new spider in my web❞

✭ pairing : yandere miguel o’hara x reader

✭ fandom : spiderman into the spiderverse

✭ summary : the moment Miguel laid his eyes on here he knew she was it for him, he didn’t care if they couldn’t be together, he’d make something work. He always did

✭ authors note : none of these are my art just a heads up I found them on Pinterest

✭ spiderman into the spiderverse masterlist

In the bustling heart of the Spider-Verse community, where spider-folk from countless dimensions converged, a new arrival was about to catch the attention of one particular spider.

Miguel O'Hara, known in his dimension as Spider-Man 2099, stood atop a towering skyscraper, his sharp eyes scanning the sprawling metropolis below. His costume, a sleek blue and white suit, shimmered in the city's neon glow as he maintained his vigilant watch over the Spider-Verse.

It was an ordinary day in this extraordinary place, or so it seemed until Gwen Stacy, the Spider-Woman of her dimension, swung by with effortless grace through a portal and landed beside Miguel. Her white and black suit glistened like moonlight against the darkened skyline. Gwen had been one of the few to join the Spider-Verse community, and she had seen her fair share of newcomers.

"Hey, Miguel," she greeted him with a friendly nod. "Got a moment?"

Miguel raised a brow at her but nodded, curious. Gwen had a way of making even the most routine days interesting or troublesome in his eyes. "What is it, Gwen?"

Gwen smiled, her eyes sparkling with a hint of excitement. "Well I know you’ve been trusting me more and more for the mission we’ve had so far and so I brought someone new to the community today, and I think you'll want to meet her."

Miguel arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "Another spider-person? What makes this one special and why wasn’t I alerted of this beforehand? You know you can’t just bring someone random without going over it with me first.”

Gwen's grin widened just slightly, “She's different, I swear! In her universe, she's their Spider-Woman, obviously but when she got bitten, look just check her out miguel. What’s the harm in it, plus she's... pretty unique."

As Gwen spoke, the night air suddenly crackled with a strange energy. Moments later, a figure swung into view, suspended by clear glistening webbing. Miguel's eyes widened as he saw her for the first time.

Her form bathed in the eerie glow of the main room labs lights, descended gracefully from her webline. She was a striking sight, like something out of a dream and a nightmare all at once. Her lower half was a delicate, iridescent exoskeleton, resembling that of a spider, while her upper body remained unmistakably human. Her costume blended seamlessly with her arachnid lower half, creating an otherworldly fusion.

Miguel couldn't tear his eyes away. This newcomer was unlike any spider-person he had ever encountered. Her presence exuded an air of mystery and power that was impossible to ignore.

Gwen chuckled at Miguel's reaction. "See what I mean? She's going to be a game-changer around here."

Miguel finally found his voice. "You brought her to here to the spiderverse already? Since you didn’t bother telling me of her arrival does Jess at least know.”

Gwen nodded. "Yes, and I think she's going to be a valuable addition to our team. (Y/N) is her name, by the way."

As (Y/N) touched down gracefully on the rooftop, her multifaceted eyes met Miguel's. There was a brief, electric connection between them, an unspoken understanding of the extraordinary circumstances they had both found themselves in.

Miguel extended a hand, a smile playing on his lips. "Welcome to the Spider-Verse, I would say I’ve heard good things about you but I didn’t know of your existence until now.”

That earnt him a laugh from the woman, “It’s all cool, I’ve come to notice that Gwen tends to do her own thing at times. But it’s a pleasure to meet you, I am (y/n).”

“(Y/n) huh…nice name. I’m Miguel, the spiderman of this universe and creator of the spiderverse.”

With that simple gesture, a new chapter in (Y/N)'s journey as an extraordinary spider-being began, and Miguel couldn't help but wonder what incredible adventures lay ahead in this web of endless possibilities.

Miguel couldn't deny his fascination with (Y/N), and as the days passed, he took every opportunity to get to know her abilities, her strengths, and her vulnerabilities. Gwen's intuition had been right; (Y/N) was unique, not just in her appearance but in her spider-powers as well.

Their missions together became a testing ground, and Miguel found himself in the dual role of mentor and admirer. (Y/N) had an uncanny ability to adapt to any situation. Her agility and dexterity were unmatched, her spider-silk threads stronger and more versatile than any he'd seen before.

As they swung through the city, tracking down threats and facing down villains, Miguel couldn't help but watch (Y/N) in action. Her movements were like a mesmerizing dance, fluid and graceful. Her eyes, a mesmerizing blend of human warmth and arachnid determination, held a fierce focus that drew him in.

Yet, his captivation came at a cost. There were moments when his preoccupation with her put him in harm's way. A misplaced web-swing, a delayed reaction, or an enemy's surprise attack—it seemed like Miguel's attention was often divided.

One fateful night, in the midst of a heated battle with a formidable foe, Miguel found himself momentarily caught off guard. Before he could react, an energy blast was hurtling towards him. In that split second, (Y/N) moved with lightning speed, positioning herself between Miguel and the danger. Her spider-silk shield absorbed the brunt of the blast, saving Miguel from serious injury.

As the dust settled, Miguel's heart raced, and he couldn't shake the feeling that (Y/N) had shielded him not just out of duty but out of a deeper connection. It was a thought that haunted him, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to their partnership than met the eye.

In the aftermath of the battle, as they regrouped with Gwen, Miles, and Hobie, Miguel's thoughts were a tumultuous whirlwind. He kept his inner musings to himself, not daring to voice the growing obsession that whispered in the recesses of his mind.

Hobie, ever perceptive, gave Miguel a knowing look “Dontcha think you’ve been watching the new girl a bit too hard there mate?”

Miguel blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What? No, I—"

Gwen chimed in with a playful grin. "It's okay, Miguel. We all see how you look at her. Told you she was something special.”

Miles nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I mean sure there’s a T-Rex that’s a Spiderman? Spider-Rex? But like a whole half humanoid spider? That’s pretty wicked too.”

Miguel couldn't deny it any longer, not that he’d voice it. His feelings for (Y/N) had grown into something more than just admiration. He cared for her deeply, and the thought that she might feel the same way both thrilled and terrified him.

“You three know nothing. I don’t have feelings for (y/n) im simply assessing her skills. Nothing more, now leave me be.” Miguel says turning his back to the three youngsters.

He couldn't risk their partnership by letting his emotions get the best of him. So, like always, he kept his feelings locked away, buried beneath his stoic exterior, all while secretly cherishing every moment he spent with (Y/N), the extraordinary spider-woman who had captured his heart.

Miguel had been waiting for the right moment to talk to (Y/N) about the upcoming mission. He knew it was crucial, and he needed to ensure her full attention and commitment. As he walked down the corridor towards her quarters, his mind was filled with thoughts of the mission's details, but also of his deep affection for (Y/N). He couldn't help but smile as he thought about their future together.

However, as he approached her door, his smile faded. He saw Riley, a fellow agent, standing in front of (Y/N). Riley was flexing his muscles and engaging in conversation with her. A wave of jealousy and possessiveness washed over Miguel. He clenched his fists, feeling a surge of anger. (Y/N) was his; he couldn't stand the thought of her being with someone like Riley.

Miguel hesitated for a moment, debating whether to confront them. Instead, he turned on his heels and walked away. He couldn't bear to see (Y/N) with someone else, not when he loved her so deeply.

Retreating to his office, Miguel locked the door behind him. He needed to clear his mind and focus on something other than his jealousy. He sat down at his desk and began reviewing clips and videos he had taken of (Y/N) in action. Each time he paused a video, it was at the moment her face was on display. He couldn't help himself, his obsession with her consuming his every thought.

Miguel started to mumble to himself, reassuring himself that (Y/N) was his and that she loved him, even if she was too shy to say it. He envisioned a future together, a family they would build. He wondered if their children would inherit his or her looks, or perhaps a perfect blend of both. He imagined their first born would be a girl, their very own daughter, a mommy's girl just like him, adoring (Y/N) as much as he did.

He envisioned her carrying more of their children, would they be eggs or would she carry them like a regular mother did in pregnancy?

In his isolated office, Miguel was lost in his fantasies. He couldn't wait for the day when (Y/N) would truly be his, and he was determined to make that future a reality.

As Miguel continued to grapple with the complexities of his relationship with (Y/N), he couldn't help but think about the obstacles they faced. The idea of two Spider-People together raised concerns of potential conflicts or even the risk of creating a catastrophic event in their world. Society had its expectations, its rules, and its fears, but Miguel knew deep down that he couldn't simply let (Y/N) slip away.

Each time he pictured (Y/N) with someone else, whether it was their own MJ or Gwen, or even a complete stranger, an unsettling feeling gnawed at him. It was as if the universe itself was protesting against any scenario where they weren't together. It was in these moments of doubt and insecurity that Miguel realized their unique connection.

He whispered to himself in the solitude of his office, "No one else would accept our flaws." He understood that they were perfect for each other precisely because they could see past each other's imperfections and still love each other deeply.

Miguel knew the risks, the potential consequences of their love, but as he thought about a world falling apart, it didn't matter to him. In his heart, he knew that having (Y/N) in his arms was worth any sacrifice, even if it meant the world crumbling around them. Their love was a force that defied the ordinary, and he was willing to defy the world if it meant they could be together.

[100s-of-random-things]

Audrey: I never hit snooze. Woodland birds make the best alarm clocks.

Trace: So do loud exhausts and gunshots.

[hannahhook7744]

Tiger Peony headcanons revised;

Tiger Peony, like her mother, was named after a flower.

Ironically, Peonies are her favorite flowers.

She's one of the few kids whose name is close to their parents' name that actually likes their name. 

She thinks it sounds cool and the fact she likes the flower also helps.

Her dad is Lampwick from Pinocchio.

Lampwick's mom married Geppetto, making Pinocchio his brother.

Which makes Pinocchio her uncle.

Pinocchio married Alice, which makes Ally and Pin, Tiger Peony's cousins.

Cacao is her favorite drink (in Neverland) and Maize is her favorite food (in Neverland).

Shining Pearl–the leader of another tribe on the isle– is a good friend of her mothers’ and is like an aunt to her.

She is also close to her uncle, Hard-to-Hit.

Her favorite food in Auradon, however, is Tofu.

And her favorite sweets are Corn cakes, peanuts, rice cakes, trail mix, and Jolly ranchers.

She is a vegetarian for the most part (even if some in her tribe do not agree with it).

Her mother, Tiger Lily, is only the coach of Neverland  because she's one of the few adults of Neverland who can do it. (The Darlings don't live in Neverland. Most of the mermaids are too childish. The fairies are too busy doing their jobs and teaching the kids of neverland. Her father is still running their tribe and will continue to do so until he dies as is the usual for their tribe. And any pirates who could do it were stolen from Neverland. And children aren't allowed to be coaches, so that left her. One of the few people who wanted/allowed herself to grow up). 

She is an activist (for equal rights, women's rights, children and animal's rights, the environment, etc).

She's the same age as Ben. Who she met a lot when she was younger because they are both future rulers (though she shares that responsibility with Peter and the queen mermaid and the fairy rulers).

She is one of the leaders of the Neverland club (this one is inspired by one of @dragoneyes618 's fics).

She was very supportive of Ben's proclamation.

She grew up hearing stories of Jake and his crew as well as the princess pirate and their three young mermaid friends who she never got to meet because of a certain kingdom who didn't care about consent of other kingdoms. She resents Auardon greatly for this.

She's very competitive and a big fan of tourney despite the fact she doesn't play.

Tiger Peony is dating Sherwood's star archery player, Robert Coran Hood of Locksley. Also known as Bobby Hood.

She met Bobby when Sherwood and Neverland's teams were playing one another. He was commenting on the game— angry about how one of the lost boys got away with a cheap shot towards one of his friends.

Which led to the two of them arguing after the game.

Bobby ended transferring soon after that to Auradon.

It took awhile for the two of them to get together and for them to stop getting into arguments every time they met. 

She can play the lute, the flute, the drum, and the pan flute.

Tiger Peony is also great at swimming and canoeing as well as dancing, singing, climbing, and giving speeches.

She is a Tom boy and an artist. Though she's not the best at it.

She is close friends with the Darling Children—Jane, William, and Daniel (Wendy's kids), Jeremiah, Wilma, and Diana (John and Luna's kids), Moria, Jonathan, Wallace,  Dalton (Michael's kids), Warpaint and Millie (Slightly's daughter—he was adopted by Wendy's aunt, Millicent in one of the movies).

As well as Tinkerbell's triplets—Terry, Tina, and Terra, and her youngest son, Tinzen.

She is not a fan of Slightly’s son, Warpaint, or the twins’ sons, Chains and Shelly, however.

Though she is friends with the remaining lost children—Rufio, Thud Butt, Ace, Don't Ask, No Nap, Pockets, Latchboy, Too Small, the other twins (Sooner and Later), Twins (singular boy), Chubs, Cynthia, Meera, Stringbean, Maya, Nibs, Tootles, and Baby.

She visits the fallen lost children’ graves often–like Fox–and thinks that she would have gotten along with most of them like a niece would with their aunts and uncles if they were still alive.

She's close to her cousin, Hototo.

She is also friends with  Armus and Sienna much to Peter’s dismay.

She’s even friends with the grandchildren of Maimie Mannering (an old friend of Peter’s).

[enmasae]

Desire of the fittest - Part 2

Self Aware Genshin Alternate Universe - Guide AU (my own take on sagau)

Previous - Next

Warnings :

Adult content (such as violence, bullying, toxic relationships, cursing, angst, nsfw, and others) and yandere behavior (such as obsessive and possessive display)

Theories and lore informations

Since this is my take on an alternate version of Genshin Impact, I've taken the liberty to include elements that may not align with the game's lore but will make sense in this particular story.

Content : And they were roommates, Totally not illegal business meeting, Casual conversation between a pigeon and a dog, How to deal with your partner's ex

"-and that concludes our coverage of the catastrophic disasters currently happening around the globe. On a brighter note, it was recently announced that the renowned game Genshin Impact will explore new horizons to celebrate its 20th anniversary. Today, we have the co-creator and current CEO of Hoyoverse, Mr. Wei, to discuss this highly anticipated event."

The small crowd attending the live show applauds as the CEO makes his entrance. Despite being in his fifties, the man retains a well-preserved appearance under the studio lights, his bright and confident smile illuminating the room. He nods in acknowledgment to the camera and extends a handshake to the TV host, who accepts it. Gesturing for his guest to do the same, they both proceed to take a seat on comfortable sofas.

"Thank you for having me."

The host eagerly clasps her hands together and leans forward, keen to gather more information about the plans for one of the most popular games in its genre. Even with the passage of time, Genshin Impact continues to serve as a source of inspiration for many and boasts a substantial player base worldwide.

"Mr. Wei, we're delighted to have you here with us."

The company's CEO offers a gentle smile, his composed demeanor standing in stark contrast to the energetic TV presenter.

"The feeling is mutual."

Immediately delving into the topic, the host follows the interview script he was given, narrating the current situation for his viewers and initiating a conversation with his guest.

"Several years have passed since Genshin Impact's main storyline came to a close, leaving fans eager to uncover the reasons behind the event announced on social media. While virtual reality has been, indeed, quite the talk in the gaming community since the release of the new AETHERAL&LUMINUS technology, we're curious to know why Hoyoverse decided to enter the world of cyber technology. What led to such decision ?"

Aligning with the host's expectations, the man in his fifties softened his features, conveying a sense of sadness to emphazise his point.

"You may call it nostalgia but the team and I wanted to provide players with the opportunity to immerse themselves in the world of Teyvat one last time before the server's shutdown-"

"Boring..."

As the television screen dims, the ceo's voice fades into silence. Setting aside the remote, you find yourself drawn back into the embrace of your current companion, reveling in the affection he showers upon you. His lips delicately trace a path from your collarbone towards your throat, eventually meeting your own. As your eyes lock with his, you feel him whisper against your breath, anger kindled by your earlier statement.

"I allowed you to have fun with that descender, isn't that enough ?"

Maintaining eye contact, you seize his shoulder and skillfully shift positions, placing yourself atop him. Taking control, you lift his hands from your waist and secure them above his head. Aroused by the demeanor you display, he decides to let you to enjoy yourself and refrains from attempting to escape your hold. Savoring the moment, you slowly bring your face closer to his, allowing your lips to meet once more in a gentle union. As his lips moves forward to taste yours again, you assertively seize his jaw and unhinge it.

"Since when do I need your approval ?"

He escapes your grasp, emitting a painful cry. Clutching his jaw, he quickly realigns it with an audible crack and assesses its movement. Surprisingly, he doesn't appear overly shocked by your swift anger. He has to admit that he provoked it when he brought up your vessel. Well, former vessel, much to his satisfaction. He never held much fondness for the boy, believing he consumed too much of your time. He sighs while reclining on the couch, bringing you into a tight embrace. His gentle hand runs through your hair as he relish in the scent of your cosmetic products. While he remains unfazed by your unpredictable behavior, he doesn't hesitate to flatter you for forgiveness.

"You don't, but I appreciate when you consider it."

You dismiss his sweet words, recognizing them as mere attempts to please you, yet you accept them despite knowing him. He's an adept at manipulating others, appearing to have their best interests at heart while exploiting them. He creates an illusion of comfort and understanding, yet beneath it all, he harbors disdain for emotional displays. Even while knowing that, you prefer to believe in the distinctiveness of your relationship. You hope that he genuinely cares, even though your own feelings are uncertain. While you're not exactly friends, there's a sense of comfort in being your authentic self with him. Though not lovers, you find solace in holding each other during chilly nights, making the mutual loneliness less impactful.

Neither of you can define what you are in each other's eyes. That's why treating him the way you do comes more naturally, it spares you from overthinking.

"I'll play along, but only if you give me a little favor."

He notices the quiet sadness in your eyes but decides not to mention it. Smiling against your lips, he offers a gentle peck, silently seeking permission to go further. Forehead touching yours, he inhales your essence as you part your lips. Confident yet respectful, he explores your mouth at a measured pace, allowing brief breaks between the playful twirls of your tongues.

"Name it, and it'll be yours."

As you gradually pull back, you notice the man pouting, clearly yearning for the warmth you bestowed upon him. Although his clinginess strokes your ego and you enjoy feeling desired, it occasionally becomes irksome. The aftermath of the previous night speaks volume of how long it has been since both of you engaged in such passionate activities. Given your shared affinity for dominance games, perhaps it would have been wise to dial it down a notch.

"I want to be part of your project."

Instantly, the dark-haired man rejects the idea with disdain, his pout transforming into a disapproving snarl, and his nose scrunching in distaste at the mere thought.

"Out of the question."

Even if you saw coming this outcome, it doesn't prevent the surge of anger rising in your chest when he dismisses your request. In a swift motion, he seizes your forearm right before you could reach for the nearest empty alcohol bottle. While his hold lacks strenght, it effectively hinders you from shattering the glass against his head. Closing his eyes, he delicately brings your hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on it.

"Losing you would drive me mad."

He might have intertwined his own existence with yours, yet, sometimes, it doesn't seem enough to keep you by his side. The intensity of your fascination for his domain unnerves him. While he had hoped for you to hold a similar affection for the present world you both inhabit, he acknowledges that these dying lands can never exude the radiance of Teyvat. Perhaps it was his error to entrust you with its care in his absence. He should have foreseen it. Even if you claim otherwise, he can only witness how your need for excitement is akin to theirs.

However, the issue resides within him, as he cannot bear witnessing the disappointment reflected on your face. With a sigh, the one who calls himself primordial release your arm and speak in a subdued tone, avoiding direct eye contact.

"Hypothetically speaking, if I were to allow you to blend in among them, what's in it for you ?"

In response to your silence, the man peeks in your direction, observing your bewildered, crunched-up face. Baffled, he lacks the time to react as you seize the hem of his partially unbuttoned shirt, propelling both of you upward. Guiding him to the rolling chair behind his desk, you swiftly pull him into it. Vaulting over the desk, you perch on its surface, placing your feet on either side of the chair's armrests, leaving him nowhere to run.

"You're joking right ?"

Seizing a knife lodged in the table, you extract it with a resounding crunch of the desk's wood. Positioning it beneath your partner's chin, his shaved face provides no shield against the blade. The man chuckles dryly, raising his hand leisurely to grasp the weapon's tip, casually creating some distance between it and his neck.

"Sadly, i don't do jokes."

Releasing the knife, you allow him to toss it aside, observing its slide on the floor and joining your collection of 'toys'. He rises from the chair and gently guides your back against the desk. His hands trace the contours of your body, scarcely concealed by the remaining clothes he didn't ripped apart. His touch eventually lands on your hands, leading them to his face. His colorless eyes delve into yours, restraining unspoken feelings in the air, akin to words on the verge of being uttered. Relinquishing your gaze, his lips caress your ears, whispering his anguish.

"Tell me why you're so eager to go there when you can stay here with me."

Running your fingers through his lengthy ebony hair, lazily gathered in a disheveled bun, you pull his head in front of yours. Removing the hairpin securing his hair, you let it cascade down, framing both of your faces.

"Freedom, Attention, Love, Entertainment... All guides are driven by their desires."

Your thumb glides down his lips, parting them and revealing the piercing on his tongue.

"I'm no exception, Phanes."

The ancient being chuckles softly, his laughter resonating deeply. He allows you to lead him towards your lips, his own already parted and eager to savor the taste of yours once again.

"We both know you're more than that."

While it's true that at times you remind him of those bastards, he can't fault you for it as it's in your nature to act this way. He just needs to make sure you never consider returning to your roots. Despite being the divine one of both, he'll gladly worship your entirety to ensure you remain by his side.

"My sweet partner in crime~, why won't you let me take care of you ?"

You know that if he was given the chance, Phanes would drive you to the brink of insanity day and night, ensuring you forget everything else but him. Unfortunately for the man, you're not interested in such fate. He won't be the one to stop you from pursuing what you want.

"If you truly cared for me, you'll let me go."

At your words, the primordial one rolls his eyes and deliberately collapses on top of you, relying on you to carry his weight. Despite his slender build, you struggle to pry him off from yourself as his arms hugs you close. Unfortunately, all you manage to achieve is getting his hair out of your face. As he rests his head in the crook of your neck, he examines the hickeys he bestowed upon you as gifts from the previous night. Relishing in the fact he has matching ones on his own neck, he yelps in surprise when you tug on his hair and push him to your right. He grunts and sighs, his palm massaging his scalp, irritated with your behavior.

"Oh, yes. Why didn't I think of that earlier ? Allowing you to dive headfirst into an unfair game specifically designed to trap and torture your kind will truly show how much I value you."

You chuckle at his sarcasm, then hop off the desk to head towards your belongings.

"And here I thought you couldn't be funny."

The gentle sound of your laughter coaxes a shift in his grumpy demeanor, replaced with a heartfelt smile. He takes pleasure in the melodic tones and reciprocates with a contented hum. If he were to pick a favorite sound, it would undoubtedly be your laughter, closely followed by the lovely way you scream his name in ecstasy. Yet, his grin quickly vanishes when he realizes what you're holding. Closing the distance in the blink of an eye, he tries to snatch the small device from your grip. You skillfully dodge his attempts, refusing to let him have his way. Seizing his hand, you twist it with a resounding crack, forcing him to drop to his knees.

"Isn't this fascinating ? That such itty-bitty trinket supposedly holds all the rights you wield over Teyvat. Must be so tiny because, you know, there's not much to brag about."

Having an idea of how you got it, he mentally scolds his shades for being too lenient with you. While you marvel at the tear-sized pearl, you remain oblivious to Phanes breaking into a nervous sweat. You might not grasp its usage yet, but he harbors no doubt that if he doesn't reclaim it soon, you'll figure it out eventually.

"I am the sole reason for Teyvat's current state. It's only thanks to me that those fools can enjoy their meaningless life."

He frees himself from your grasp, swiftly snatching back in place his wrist. Glancing up at you, he watches as you casually toy with the device, spinning it around with the chain and frame-like ornement keeping it secure.

"Says the one who prefers to live in isolation while 'his' world steadily erodes itself after each little 'cycles' you make it goes through."

Before Phanes can respond, a loud whistle pierces the air, catching both your attention and his.

"Man, they got you there."

As the primordial one sees one of his shades making himself comfortable on the couch, munching on some junk food he found somewhere, he groans in annoyance.

"Ugh, Istaroth, don't you have better things to do ?"

The man appears to ponder for a moment as he reaches the bottom of his snack bag. Upon realizing the absence of treats, he deftly snaps his fingers, causing the bag to replenish itself as if it had never been touched. Propping his cheek on his fist, he grabs a handful of snacks, shoving them into his mouth and chewing audibly. Observing the snack bag mysteriously being propelled toward the trash can, he hastily gulps down the remaining food, sighing in disappointment. Nonchalantly inspecting his nails, he brushes off the snack's crumbs, seemingly unfazed by the threatening glare from his boss.

"Apart from watching the two of you acting like animals in heat ? Not really."

While you prefer to remain clueless about how long he's been lurking unnoticed, you see that Phanes doesn't share your point of view. Gesturing angrily at his subordinate, his eyes betray a poorly concealed anger as his lips curls in disdain.

"First off, how dare you disrespect our privacy. Secondly, get your mind out of the gutter, we're not fucking, it's just-"

Phanes comes to a sudden stop, taking in the situation before him. With him on his knees, perfectly positioned to reach your pelvis, one could easily think he's about to give you a head job. You chuckle at the sight of him swiftly rising to his feet and hastily adjusting his partially undone shirt. The shade appears unfazed by his boss's embarrassment, having witnessed and heard far worse.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm not paid enough to deal with your abandonment issues."

The dark-skinned man reaches for a bottle on the floor but decides against taking a sip of whatever's left after some consideration. While Phanes busies himself searching for the remainder of his clothes, you saunter over to the shade in a seductive manner. As the divine being catches sight of your approach, he curses under his breath and feigns interest in the bottle in his hand. He flinches when you place your hand on his shoulder, while the other begins to caress his cheek.

"Hands off, sweetheart. I've got a keen sense of hygiene, and I know you didn't wash those hands of yours."

He swats your hand away from his cheek and pinches the other as if discarding trash, tossing it aside. You hum and flop onto the couch beside him, eliciting a grunt from the shade.

"Such perfect timing, Istaroth."

"With all due respect, which is none, screw you."

Glancing at the jewel in your hands, a mischievous impulse seizes you. Tossing the pearl towards Phanes, you watch as he dives to the floor to catch it, exhaling with relief upon success. With his head conveniently positioned at the perfect height for you to lift it with your bare foot under his chin, you compel him to look at you.

"Would you mind persuading your boss to let me do as I please ?"

Taking advantage of your momentary distraction, the primordial one signals to his shade to refuse, mimicking a throat-slitting gesture. Despite being molded from Phanes' flesh, he lacks the soft spot his creator seems to have for you, preferring to keep a safe distance from your antics. Even if his boss were to order him to indulge your whims, he would most likely flat-out refuse.

"Hard pass, sweetheart."

You glance at the divine being sprawled at your feet, examining his little trinket for any cracks. You rise to your feet, causing him to lose his head support and bonk his chin on the unforgiving floor. As the pearl slips from his fingers and starts its daring escape, he's on it like a squirrel chasing a nut, scrambling to catch up. Unfortunately for him, you reclaim it before he has the chance.

"And here I was expecting you'll be the first to want me out of here~."

Istaroth tumbles on his fist and then reluctantly straightens up, a smile spreading across his face's features. Rising from the ground, Phanes approaches you. While his arms gently embrace you, his gaze remains fixed on the jewel you're holding.

"Wait a minute... You want to leave ?"

As his gold-like eyes sparkled with excitement, he might sound a tad too pleased to your liking but you'll gladly take whatever enthusiasm you can get. You firmly press your palm against the primordial one's face, preventing him from reclaiming the symbol of his authority. The sound of his nose yielding under your palm reaches your ears, evoking a high-pitched grunt from him, not that you cared. With determined strikes, you approach the shade, affectionately pinching his cheek as one might do with a child.

"Exactly ! How clever of you ! Good job on figuring it out !"

You grab his hand and swap positions, flopping onto the couch and sending him stumbling towards the god, who's still inspecting his crooked nose in a mirror after you intentionally crushed it. As Phanes shoots a disapproving glance at his subordinate without even turning his head, the shade doesn't get a chance to speak, only receiving a grunt of warning from his boss.

"Not. A. Chance."

With no further resistance, Istaroth raises his arms in surrender and turns around. Displeased with how quickly he gave in, you shoot him a disappointed stare as he flops back onto the couch next to you. Feeling uneasy under your accusing gaze, his eyes avoid yours, darting away.

"Listen, sweetheart. If he didn't listen to you, he certainly won't give a shit about what I say."

Every gaze converges on the desk when Phanes' phone, emitting a distinctive ringtone, disrupts the room, prompting a weary sigh from you. Despite your expectations that he would have gotten rid of it by now, it becomes evident that the voicemail you recorded for him long ago still remains. A cringe washes over you as you hear your own voice trashtalking Phanes to answer the call. Istaroth appears equally displeased, emitting a grunt and burying his face in one of the couch's pillows.

"-fucking bitch ! You better pick up your goddamn phone if you don't want me to shove it down your throat and making you gag like the slut you are-"

A breath of relief escapes you as the deity declines the call upon checking the caller's identity. Unfortunately, the relief is short-lived as the persistent dialler triggers the ringtone once more, demonstrating a fervent desire to speak with Phanes. Having no intention of talking with this particular individual, he forcefully crushes his own phone, ending the incessant ringing. Tossing the damaged device into a nearby bin, he gestures towards his personal notebook to remind him he will need a replacement. Istaroth grumbles into the pillow, clearly irritated but reluctantly acknowledge the directive.

"Noted."

With a tilt of your head, you silently inquire for more information from the god. Phanes, in response, takes your hand and gently guides you to stand, initiating a comforting embrace. Creating a bit of space between the two of you, he delicately retrieves the jewel from the tips of your fingers, all the while maintaining an unwavering gaze with you.

"Don't you fret about such a thing, [Name]. As for your heart's desire, let me take a little while to think it over, and I promise to return with a delightful response just for you. In the meantime, I must have a talk with Istaroth. Would you be a darling and wait for me outside? It won't be long, I assure you."

Skeptical, you emit a doubtful hum, not entirely swayed by his sickly sweet display. Contrary to his anticipations, you don't put up a fight and merely leave the room with an nonchalant wave of your hand. As the appartment's door closes, Istaroth rolls onto his back, casually inspecting his nails as he typically resorts to when boredom sets in.

"Perhaps, it's time for you to let them go."

Regret floods Istaroth swiftly as his blood begins to congeal within his veins, causing him to gasp for breath and emit painful grunts. Collapsing from the couch, he struggles to lift his gaze towards his creator, his vision blurring with the intensity of his suffering.

"And I think it's about time you remember your place. Don't delude yourself into thinking that I've forgotten how you used to help them sneaking around with their ex vessel while I was looking the other way."

The shade gasps for air, sensing his body liberated from the torturous grip Phanes had on it. Coughing, his fist clenches as he swallows down any words that might further sour the mood of his creator. Over time, he has grown indifferent to such torment, losing the will to care or worry about his condemned immortal existence. While there is no hope left for him, there's still a chance for you to embrace the freedom he yearns for. Unknown to the primordial one, he is determined to help you achieve that.

"On the subject of discussion, I better mention this before it slips my mind."

Kneeling down, Istaroth keeps his head bowed, concealing the faint smile playing on his lips. Don't waste the opportunity he's granting you, because even he recognizes that time is running thin.

"Asmoday got killed."

Upon learning the demise of one of his shades, Phanes seizes his subordinate by the neck, pulling him up to his own eye level. Hindered by the contrast in height, Istaroth struggles to breathe, his feet flailing in the air as his creator seems to blame him for the distressing news.

"And by who ?"

Baring his teeth in response to the pain he endures, Istaroth chuckles drily as he struggles to breath.

"I believe- that the fourth descender- actively searching his lost guide within our quarters- is enough of an answer-."

A heavy silence falls upon the room, the air thick with tension. Istaroth's feeble attempt at breathing gradually fade as his creator's grip tightens around his neck. Shortly after, the only audible sound for the shade becomes the echoing reverberation of his own heartbeat in his ears. With adrenaline coursing through him, he looks in horror at the wide and contemplative eyes of his master, engulfed in anger prompted by memories from a distant era. An abrupt gasp resonates as the shade is released, collapsing at Phanes's feet. His heart pounds wildly, eyes wide with fear as his body trembles under the lingering tension.

"You're fired."

As the apartment door slams shut, Istaroth gradually allows his nerves to settle.

"Hourray... vacations."

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

"Well, look who it is ! The one and only [Name]. Still on a leash, I presume ? I guess some things never change."

Glancing at the dame lounging on your left, flaunting her arms on the rail, she grins with a wickedness that could make gods blush. You emit a dismissive grunt and slump against the fence, both hands shielding your eyes briefly before giving your face a vigorous wipe, as if hoping to erase her existence. Unfortunately for you, she has no intention of leaving you be. Even though you wish you hadn't, you've mastered recognizing her bewitching crimson gaze, no matter the vessel she assumes. Before you stands Valefor, one of your fellow guides fueled by an insatiable thirst for power. It's not that you despise her more than the others, she's simply an unnecessary pain in the ass right now. Given her impatience, you opt to ignore her until she decides to leave on her own. No need to make a fuss over someone undeserving of such attention.

"Come on, lighten up ! That's not how you should treat your best friend~."

After a nudge from her elbow, you grab your drink and navigate the mezzanine alongside the fortunate few selected players. The sight of their camaraderie before the competition sickens you. Guides, by their very nature, don't blend seamlessly. They never have, possessing too much pride for such alliances. True friendships among them are scarce. Typically, collaborations are brief, driven by mutual benefits before one inevitably betrays the other.

As you weave through the crowd, you notice flickers of recognition in the eyes of some attendees, coupled with hushed comments. Despite the revival of unpleasant memories under their scrutinizing gazes, you maintain your pride, holding your head high. You don't hesitate to reciprocate their side glances, forcing them to avert their eyes. As you head toward a more secluded area of the reception room, you notice Valefor trailing after you, engaging in a few greetings with others along the way.

"Wait- Listen, I really need to talk to you, alright ?"

You sigh at her persistence and come to an abrupt stop, causing her to bump into you. Seizing her wrist, you pull her into one of the VIP rooms and throw her inside, making her stumble before finding her balance. Unfolding a small piece of paper, you ignite it, strange symbols manifesting in the air with a golden hue. Running your fingers together, you cast a brief glance back at the frozen crowd before shutting the curtains of the room. Valefor watches in amazement as the curtains defy the laws of physics, their movement ceasing once you release them.

"Time stopping, uh ? Neat. Is it a little trick from one of your newfound friends ?"

Settling onto one of the cushions, you take a sip of your drink and dismissively ignore her comment.

"I was told by Istaroth that you were advised to maintain a low profile. Guess it was too complicated for a meathead like you."

Taking residence on a couch opposite you, she flops onto it like a toddler and begins playing with the electrical device that allows the couch to transition from a sitting position to a reclining one. Despite of the unsettling noise, you only angrily sip on your drink, at least for now. You're confident that someday you'll get the chance to annoy her in return.

"I'm a guide, I do things my way. Anyway, the little birdie didn't say much about what all the fuss is about."

After finishing your drink, you spit out a small gem resembling a pearl but shaped like a tear, retrieving it from your tongue. At this sight, Valefor mutters a quiet "gross" under her breath before recognizing what you're holding. As you place it on the table, the guide shifts position, perching at the edge of the couch with a broad smile on her face.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit. You're fucking nuts, you know that ?"

You're not crazy enough to snatch the real deal from one of the most powerful gods and keep it for yourself. The little act you staged earlier was merely a ruse to make him believe you'd attempted to steal it and coax him into doing what you wanted. Unfortunately for him, you knew he'd never give in to your demands. That's why you had Istaroth retrieve it for you, but from a far away future. And this is the one you're showcasing now, although she doesn't need to be privy to that detail.

"Phanes expects me to follow his rules, but I couldn't care less about what he wants. So, here's the deal. I'll hand over the little trinket, and in return, you use it to send me to Teyvat."

Doubtful as she should be, or you might have lost all hopes for her, she squints before bringing her face closer to it for a better look. When she glances back up at you, she raises an eyebrow, sensing that something is amiss.

"Why not just use it yourself to get there directly?"

You scornfully scoff and regard the jewel with disdain.

"You think I haven't tried ? It recognizes the one trying to use it, and unfortunately, it only listens to that slut. Even Istaroth couldn't get it to submit to him."

From what she knows, you're more of a whore than he'll ever be, but she refrains from mentioning it.

"And what makes you think I can when not even a shade could ?"

Well, you didn't have much of a choice to begin with. Even though seeking help from one of your kind implies you've hit a low point, you won't allow her to mock you.

"It's a bit of a gamble, but I figured someone with your abilities could tame this little thing. Or is your desire for power nothing more than a joke ?"

As her eyes twitch, you know you've won. There's nothing more effective than challenging a guide to get them to do what you want.

"Deal. But I'd like to ask a question before."

Intrigued about what she might ask, you tilt your head slightly as a silent approval for her to proceed.

"At the very least, was he good in bed ?"

A smirk plays across your face. You hate to admit it, but he's got some skills when it comes to giving pleasure. Not that you'll vocalize it, though.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　At the same time 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

In one of the storage rooms within the same complex building, an elderly woman joyfully dances to classic hit that was popular in her time. Unfortunately, her little dance session is abruptly interrupted when a star-shaped portal unexpectedly materializes, tearing through the fabric of reality and remaining open long enough for its creator to tumble into the small room, dislodging multiple boxes in the process. Having served as a janitor for the company that owns the building for quite some time, she has grown accustomed to the unusual events that tend to unfold, allowing her to remain unfazed by the recent occurrence. With a frown directed at the spilled cleaning supplies, she removes her large music headset and exhales in mild irritation.

"Really ? This is the end of my shift."

The woman with platinum hair grunts in pain as she slowly rises, her eyes fixed on the prominent wound in her belly, her hand barely covering it. Growing irritated by the raspy voice of the janitor, she flicks her hand, silencing the elderly woman's chatter. The janitor's eyes lose their spark, becoming dull and lifeless, even though she's still breathing.

Limping her way out of the storage room, the injured woman curses under her breath. She loathes the fact that this puny descender caught her off guard, and she vows to ensure it never happens again. But for now, her priority is to get to Phanes. She needs to warn him that a greater threat is looming.

"Asmoday, don't you look terrible."

Disregarding her fellow shade, she attempts to walk past him, only to be halted by a hand on her shoulder. She hisses in pain and bats away Istaroth's hand, her golden eyes cautioning him not to mess with her, even in her weakened state. With an expression of utter disgust, he wipes the blood from his skin, staining his handkerchief, then meticulously inspects his nails for any lingering traces.

"Not that I give a shit, but you might want to consider changing styles. Let's be real here honey, red just ain't your thing."

Not in the mood to get caught up in her colleague's petty quarrel, she limps down the corridor, leaning on the wall for support and leaving gory and bloody marks in her wake. Hearing a snap of fingers, she grunts as she finds herself back next to Istaroth. Noticing the choke marks on his neck and the burnt skin causing his veins to protrude, Asmoday returns the animosity with a venomous retort.

"Have you seen yourself, asshole ? You look like shit that has been stepped on."

The shade dismisses her comment with a shrug as he gazes upward, the corridor lights flickering as if on the verge of fading completely.

"Well, that's what happens when you piss off our big guy upstairs."

Feeling a bit unsettled upon learning their master's sour mood, Asmoday glances at her fellow shade, puzzled about why he's acting like it's the best day of his life. It's been a while since she's seen him so genuinely joyful and carefree, almost seeming out of character. As he looks down at her while she coughs up a little blood, she can feel shivers going down her spine. A cheerful Istaroth is an unpredictable one.

But beyond fear, it unnerves her to see the typically grumpy god sporting such a crappy grin.

"Oh, please. You really thought he'd cut you some slack because you decided to wake up with a dick between your legs ?"

"And yet, you believe that playing the obedient lapdog will save your ass. I wonder who's the delusional one here."

As he peeks at one of the watches on his wrist, his smile tightens slightly. Confused about what he might be expecting, Asmoday's senses sharpen as the building begins to rumble. Glancing at her fellow shade, she realizes it's not just any ordinary earthquake.

"You didn't, you fucking pigeon."

Assuming a fighting stance, Asmoday grits her teeth to push through the pain as more blood seeps from her wound. It's solely due to her powers that she can still draw breath after losing so much fluids. Despite knowing she's not capable of defeating him in her current condition, even with his own bruises, she refuses to meet her end at the hands of a treacherous traitor like him.

"Oh, but I did. Though you're giving me too much credit. I simply distracted the infatuated fool with a threat he couldn't overlook."

The wounded shade struggles to comprehend why he would betray them after all this time. While she understands his disdain for Phanes and anything associated with him, and acknowledges that time holds no significance for him, she still wonders why he would sacrifice everything for you.

"Why go such lenght for them ? They're just a guide."

Istaroth's smile dims slightly as the lights in the corridor begin flickering once more. Glaring down at Asmoday, the shade shows no hesitation as he has already made his decision.

"You see, as for now, Phanes believes you're six feet under. Wouldn't want to disappoint him, now would we?"

With a snap of his fingers, Asmoday collapses to her knees, gradually turning to ashes with a betrayed look in her eyes. Brushing off the remaining dust from his pants, Istaroth hopes that she'll appreciate the scene reminiscent of Hiroshima back in 1945. He hadn't anticipated her survival after what that descender did to her, she's definitely tougher than she appears. Snapping out of his thoughts, he stumbles as the entire building trembles once more. Chuckling, he rejoices in your success.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　A little earlier　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

Inspecting his bloodied weapon, Aether pays no heed to the bodies of the guards who attempted to halt him. Displeased with the fact that the weapon you blessed him with is dirtied by the blood of nobodies, he proceeds to meticulously clean it. Though not entirely satisfied with the results, he glances at the neon loosing their brightness. In the darkness, he assumes a fighting stance, prepared to slay anything in his path.

As the lights flicker back to life, none of the guards' bodies remain to the eye, only the slender figure of the man, seemingly waiting. The cold neons accentuate his thin face and well-nourished black hair flowing along his body. His silver eyes, almost devoid of color, scrutinize him up and down in a judgmental manner.

"You should not be here."

With chills coursing down his spine, Aether takes a step back and tightens his grip on his sword. With just one sentence, Aether realizes that he's facing something far greater than the shade he fought to reach this point. Even if Aether can feel he's at a disadvantage, he's not one to back down. Unfortunately for him, he fails to grasp that this man isn't merely annoyed by his presence in his domain. For he had become the target of all the primordial one's frustrations and anger, he should consider himself lucky he's still able to breathe.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

In the midst of preparing to strike, Aether is stunned by the sudden disappearance of his sword. Startled, he lifts his head to find the man's face mere inches from his own. With a defiant tilt of his head, Aether faces the towering man head-on. Swiftly reaching for a spare knife at his belt, he lunges forward with his weapon. Yet, he staggers forward as the blade slices through empty air, the man vanishing in a blink. Surveying his surroundings, Aether notices that all exits have vanished, leaving the room illuminated solely by a solitary neon light above. Alert, Aether startles as a cold whisper brushes against his ear, sending a shiver down the blond boy's spine.

"You could hurt yourself."

Glancing back, Aether takes a close look at the necklace adorned with a small jewel around his neck. Unable to shake the familiar feeling he gets from the man, he scrutinizes his features while searching for any apparent weakness.

"You remind me of someone."

The man scoffs, straightens his back, and puts some distance between him and Aether. While he kows that the descender is simply dragging out the conversation to buy time, Phanes decides to indulge him. Being quite picky about his conversational partners, he isn't normaly the type to engage in small talk with his enemies. However, he supposes he can make an exception for this one.

"Humph, do I ?"

Left with no more weapons to spare, Aether clenches his fists and attempts to think of a way to breach his opponent's defense. Sometimes, nothing works better than a little provocation.

"I know they're here. And I need to talk with them."

"Oh, you won't, not on my watch."

Aether charges towards the man, poised to strike him down. Just as he's about to land a blow, the man dissipates into black sand upon impact, causing the descender to tumble and fall to the floor. Confused as to why the tiles has transformed into the same sand the man turned into, the blond traveler is left in shock as the scenery completely changes. Emerging in a boundless black desert bathed in the light of three moons against a starless sky, he fights to regain his footing.

"How did it feel ?"

As the man's voice echoes through the air, Aether begins to panic, finding himself getting pulled into quicksand. Unfortunately, the more he struggles to escape, the further he sinks. The moons high in the sky appear to mock him, as if he's to blame for his predicament. Taking a final breath before being completely submerged, the descender has no time to react as he suddenly falls into what seems like an endless void. However, it isn't truly limitless as he swiftly touches the bottom, landing on his back.

"To be unwanted."

Gritting his teeth together at the pain, Aether refuses to give up and strengthens himself once again. Observing the new scenery, his eyes widen upon seeing you in the distance. With his first step, a crack forms at his foot and extends towards you. As he starts to run in your direction, shattering the stone-like floor like thin ice, you only move farther away, leaving him alone in this hellish environement.

"Not good, does it ?"

With the temperature rising, the floor finally gives up under his weight, causing him to fall once again. Using his broken wings to somewhat cushion his fall, he manages to land on his feet.

"I get it, you know. Out of all, I might be the one closest to understanding what you're going through."

Observing the fire ravage the lands around him, a strange itch stirs within him as he starts to recognize the scenery. It's an itch he cannot scratch, only indicating that something is wrong. As screams resonate, he remains paralyzed, unable to break down at the sight before him.

"Nowhere to call home."

He witnesses his sister weeping over thousands of corpses, her gut-wrenching screams breaking his heart. Before he can take a step in her direction and call out to her, her head unnaturally snaps 180 degrees. Under Lumine's hateful glare, he begins to notice the clammy sensation on his hands, his horror growing as he realizes they are smeared with blood. He shuts his eyes tightly and pounds his head repeatedly, desperately trying to convince himself that the man is merely toying with his mind.

"You know, it took me a while to discover what was going on."

Upon opening his eyes, Aether discovers that he is now bound to a chair, the furniture itself constricting his hands behind his back. Before him, Phanes lounges in a comfortable seat, casually playing with the shattered intertwining of fate that symbolized the connection between you and the renowned traveler. Upon realizing this, the descender struggles against his restraints. Yet, as he attempts to vocalize his desire to reclaim it, no sound escapes his mouth.

"They hid you well. However, once the secret was out, all they could do was to plead on your behalf, begging me to spare your life."

Seeing that his captive had much to express, Phanes impulsively snaps his fingers, only to regret it instantly as Aether unleashes a furious scream that pierces his ears.

"You're the reason they abandoned me- !!"

The primordial being hastily snaps his fingers once more, brushing his forehead to alleviate the headache induced by just one sentence. Truly, this descender possesses the ability to irritate him like no one ever has, and he considers himself a patient man. Disregarding the claims of the blonde traveler, he dismissively waves his hand, prompting the furnitures to move out of his way as he approaches Aether.

"No, no, no, no, I didn't do anything. You see, I merely allowed them to toy with you. Ultimately, it was solely their choice to discard you."

Watching Aether squinting his eyes, revealing his lack of faith in the god's words, Phanes laughs mockingly at the sight. It's pitiful to see the descender place so much trust in you, as if you could truly be concerned with his well-being. Despite the man's assertions, Aether believes there must be a valid reason why you had to leave him, which is why he is determined to find you. You wouldn't have casted him aside simply out of boredom, would you?

"There's much about guides that you seem unaware of... Quite surprising, considering where you come from."

Feeling the release of his restraints, Aether is abruptly pulled to his feet as the room is swept away by an unknown force. Upon opening his eyes after the wind dies down, he finds himself up in the sky, with floating pillars adorning the scenery. As the setting evokes memories of the place where he first engaged in combat with the sustainer of the heavenly principles, a bad chilling sensation runs down his spine as something seizes his shoulders.

"You're free to believe me or not, but I understand how difficult it is to live in someone's shadow. First, your sister, then, [Name]. Perhaps it's time for you to learn how to be yourself."

As the god takes a melancholic tone towards the end of his words, he snaps out of whatever memory he was recalling. Aether, still unable to move on his own, observes a door materializing out of nowhere before swinging open, emitting a bright flashing light.

"Whatever, who am I kidding ? You never learn from your mistakes."

Stepping aside, Phanes waves with a slight fake smile on his lips.

"Oh and, you might want to start running."

Glancing behind him, Aether witnesses the stone slabs breaking and tumbling down. Rising to his feet, he makes a run for it. With his wings shattered from his previous journey that was intended to be the final one, he can only rely on his legs to reach the door. Leaping through it, his consciousness fades away.

'Resetting complete'

...

{Words : 7387}

Heya, finally i managed to post part 2 ! Sorry to keep you all waiting. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did while writing this.

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@lilisette24

[inkformyblood]

putting on a show (COD Kinktober 2024 Day 09)

Price x Graves, Canon Universe, Not Canon Compliant/Pre-Canon. Restraints. Lemon.

When Price thinks about Graves, he doesn’t think about the man first. Sometimes, he’ll think about the figure the man cuts, the sharp-tongued leader of Shadow company, when he catches a glimpse of Graves with his men, a smattering of shrouded figures Price can’t keep an accurate count on but knows to keep Ghost close to heel all the same in case he devours one and slides seamlessly into the empty masked place. But that isn’t what dominates his thoughts as he stares down at the other man splayed across his desk, colour high in his cheeks and his arms tangled in his own ridiculously expensive dress shirt.

Price thinks of a lapcat, some wiry mouser coaxed into resplendence and now demands it of every being around him.

“What’s funny?” Graves asks, his eyes narrowing, a bat of his manicured claws. He spreads his legs wider, Price’s gaze dropping from his face to the offering in front of him, likely Graves’ plan all along. He’s achingly hard pressing against the seam of his tailored trousers, not quite soaking through the pale grey fabric and that feels like a challenge. 

Price grins up at Graves, bypassing the swell of the other man’s cock in favour for his cigar, hastily stubbed out in the ashtray by Graves’ hip when the other man descended on him like a tropical storm, scrambling onto Price’s lap and getting tangled in his clothes in his own haste to strip. He plucks the lighter out of Graves’ pocket — engraved, because of course it fucking is — and lowers his face to the small flame. Graves looks a curious blend of furious, his lip curled and the sharp edge of a cutting remark glittering behind his teeth, and so turned on that he couldn’t walk straight if he tried. 

Price blows out a plume of smoke, taps his tongue against the roof of his mouth to make a ring. “Boys are all going off base, guessing yours are too.” He’d seen his set off earlier, the offer to join them extended and denied as gently as he could bear. It would do them so good to spend some time stretching their wings away from his nest. “And then you’re here.”

He leans close to Graves, trailing blunted fingertips over the plane of his stomach, the faint red marks cresting over his hips, before he settles his palm over his cock, stroking over it roughly. Graves groans, his legs gone slack, barely fighting his self-made restraints anymore. 

“All tied up with a bow for me.”

Graves doesn’t whine; it isn’t a sound woven into his being, but he grins slowly, his eyes dark and half-lidded. “Not all my boys hit the town.”

Price hooks his hands over Graves’ hips, pulling him closer with a yelp that breaks into a laugh, breathless, trailing on a groan as he grinds himself against Graves, letting him feel every inch. “I noticed.”

He leans down to tug on the tags around Graves’ neck, drawing the chain taut against his skin. The mark it leaves is faint, would be barely noticeable by morning, but the memory of it will linger. He continues, lowering his voice to a rumble, a few specks of ash falling from his cigar, “Guess you’ll have to put on a show for them then.”

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

i just read your ask about how zutaras think airbenders are racist, sexist, ect. and i'm like?? aren't air nomads canonically the most accepting of the 4 nations??? i don't know how accurate the avatar universe wiki is (it's one of the most expansive wikis i've ever seen for a fandom), but it says it there.

Even if we don't take the wiki or anything except the show itself into account - nothing in the show itself indicates they were racist, sexist, etc.

But you know what nation is confirmed to be very fucking racist, and there's hints of it being a least a little sexist? The Fire Nation. The one that commited genocide towards both the air-nomads and Southern Water Tribe.

Zutarians are constantly going on and on about how their ship is more "complext and adult", yet lots of them are TERRIFIED to engage with aspects that would make it a complex, adult, very messy dynamic - aka the fact that Zuko is not only a direct descendent of the guy that started the war (Sozin), of the guy that was responsible for the raids on Katara's tribe (Azulon), and of the guy that order her best friend's capture/death (Ozai) but he also took A LONG time to realize "Holy shit, what my family is doing is terrible" and was in fact constantly putting Katara and her friends in danger, helped Azula get the upper hand in Ba Sing Se and thus kill Aang, then sent an assassin after them to finish/repeat the job later.

There's also the fact that, due to their immaturity, they think they HAVE to hate Aang just because they don't him and Katara together, and it can make them look really bad to hate on the sole survivor of a genocide while praising the prince that was trying to help his nation get rid of said last survivor.

They could deal with that by doing stuff like making modern AUs to avoid the war thing, or actually addressing the complexity of the situation, or being mature enough to say "I dislike Kataang/Aang as a character, but obviously Zuko was an objectively worse person back when he was supporting literal genocide."

Instead they decide to make the air-nomads look like "asshole victims" to reduce sympathy for them and Aang, pretend the SWT and the NWT are exactly the same to make it look like Katara felt oppressed by her own family and culture instead of being traumatized by their death, and pretend the Fire Nation is not only the "feminst nation" but also that said feminism would TOTALLY extend to the girl they were taught to see as being part of an inferior race just because there's a new guy in charge.

Zutarians tend to only acknowledge the elephant in the room when it's for the sake of a fetish or extra drama (see the non-con fics or "Slave/Concubine Katara" fics), or when they are genuinely fucking clueless/racist and think "Oh, it wasn't so bad" and say as much openly.