#my extended descendants universe

[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]

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).

[muntitled]

Hangman

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: What's a broke girl to do when her university bills keep piling up and a sadistic Salesman offers to take all her problems away? All at one tiny little price.

Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Kidnapping, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Suicide, Restraints, Anxiety, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Oral Sex (m!rec), Deepthroating, Blood Kink

A/N: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

You hadn't initially intended on slitting your own wrist. That idea was birthed almost vicariously in the moment. If he hadn't stopped you, your corpse would have been found laying on a park bench, covered in its own wet blood that would have been dripping from its open wrist like a faucet. Surely his proposition would be better than that.

With your vision obstructed by a heavy blindfold, your hearing is ten times more prominent. You hear the sound of your own breathing, as if your body was taunting you with all the life it still begrudgingly held inside it. You also heard heavy yet elegant footsteps cross a marble floor. Then you hear the scratch of a vinyl as the very sounds of an orchestra bleeds into the atmosphere.

"Hello," said the Man in the gray suit who had accosted you in the park. You remember the way in which he had sat beside you.

No one had ever sat beside you. Not even any of your peers that roamed the university. Everything about your countenance was so worried and severe. You wore your money problems on your sleeves and that evidently warded off any chance of a social life you had hoped to have.

The moon was shining particularly bright and the stars were twinkling little spectators to your silent meltdown on the park bench. Your eyes had been reading and re-reading the email sent to you by the university. An urgent email amongst a sea of urgent emails begging you to 'please just pay them'.

"Don't slit your wrist," he had said, "Not before you've given yourself a chance to win at life first."

You had looked up at him with bloodshot eyes from all that crying over potentially getting kicked out of university. He hadn't melted at your expression, in fact he only smiled softly. "We ought to play a game-"

"I wasn't going to slit my wrist."

"You were just holding that boxcutter for fun, then?" He curled up an eyebrow, leading both of your gazes down to the pocket box cutter that sat in your lap, the blade extended.

"I'm not in the mood to play a game."

"Not even at the cost of your university fees?" Your eyes snapped up to him then. He sat a healthy distance away from you. The space between you both was filled with possibilities so endless it was becoming uncomfortable to breathe. "How much do you owe them now?"

"That's none of your business," you were on the verge of gathering your things. Your boxcutter and your pride.

Perhaps you could kill yourself somewhere else, preferably without a man accosting you about the embarrassing state of your funds.

"I could pay for your university fees, you know," His words morphed into an anchor, keeping your butt firmly planted to the park bench. A midnight runner passed by you two. An evening breeze blew through your scalp and the goosebumps descended.

"Of course, you'd have to win first."

Anyone could see the conflict warring within your irses.

"This is how people get sex trafficked," you'd said, "Absolutely no thank you," How utterly in control you had been! A girl with a firm head on her shoulders.

He only laughed then. He laughed and laughed, so much so he had to politely clear his throat.

"You were about to kill yourself. Don't pretend to have any self preservation now," his words had struck a cord deep within the inner workings of your soul. Your face heated as you hid yourself, tucking your chin against your chest. You did suddenly feel remarkably silly and so incredibly juvenile.

"Don't worry," he had said with an almost lopsided grin, "It's your lack of self preservation that I find so incredibly intriguing, hence I'm asking for one game."

It was only one game.

One game and if you were lucky enough to win, you might coast through the rest of university stress-free. Like a normal 20 year old with normal 20 year old problems. Boyfriends. Clubbing. Whatever else all those girls did when they huddled together in their magnificent little groups. You could be a part of them. For once you had to give yourself the opportunity of feeling like a member of society.

"Are these restraints a necessary element of our game?"

As you sit in this room- a room he had brought you too- blindfolded- you tell yourself that you are giving yourself a chance to be a normal 20 year old. That's why you were currently restrained to a leather chair. The restraints held your wrists to the armrests and your and your ankles to the feet of the chair. This led to the slight and uncomfortable spreading of your legs- a dangerously vulnerable position to be in when you were wearing nothing but a university jumper and a pleated skirt.

You quickly find out that you didn't like to be restrained.

Your chest rises and falls a little higher with every sharp intake of your breath as you will yourself into calmness. Freaking out now seemed completely silly.

Almost as silly as letting a stranger bring you to his hidden location.

Had you no sense of self preservation at all?

Were you a walking piece of meat, waiting for the first predator to sink its teeth into you?

Has that predator finally arrived?

"The restraints are unfortunately a necessary element.” He says, softly, “The human body tends to get jittery when it's met with unforeseen stimuli, and I don't want you running out on me."

That lets the panic solidify itself even more in your bones. This man walked as if he was a perfectly stand up guy and that helped in your decision of letting him bring you here.

Nothing seemed particularly wrong with him at first glance.

His face has all the workings of a perfectly normal man. He looked like he was in possession of a cushy, stable job with pensions and benefits. A salesman.

He looked like he attended his kids soccer matches on the weekends.

He looked married to a beautiful woman who looks good in mom jeans and baked brownies for her Wednesday night book club.

He looked so painfully normal.

But the panic is rising, the more that ‘danse macabre’ fills the room.

"C-Could you at least play something else," You are fidgeting now and it causes him to raise a brow. "Danse macabre is just," you attempt to swallow but your tongue is completely dry, "-incredibly unnerving, right now."

You try to massage your wrists in the restraints and you breathe through your nostrils as a phantom pain shoots through your legs. The need to move was eating you alive.

"You know your classical music," The man regarded you with slight intrigue as he folded the piece of material he had once used to obstruct your vision. He places it on a tiny coffee table before you. "Interesting for a kid your age. Do you know the story behind it?"

"Of course, I do, why do you think I'm nervous?" You had his full attention now. You were almost drowning in it as he lowered himself to a leather chair directly opposite you.

You had never had anyone listen to you as intently as he does. No one bothered to hear what you had to say. The voices in your head were your only audience…

Now you have someone seated before you, so lax as he urges you to, “Go on, explain why it makes you so nervous.” It was completely addicting.

“W-Well,” you swallowed the air again. “Danse macabre quite literally means dance of death,” he sits back in his chair, his fingers tapping against his mouth.

“Why?” he asks in deeply monotony, as if you had captured him as much as he, evidently captured hou. Like you weren't the only one in restraints.

Your brows furrowed “Is this quiz apart of the game-”

“No. I just want to hear you talk.” He says as he reaches over the side of his chair uncovering a sleek black briefcase veneered in expensive leather. He assures you with a single nod of his head that he's listening as he clocks open the briefcase.

“Well,” your eyes are on the whiteboard he pulls out, “Camille wrote this symphony all dark and depressing because it's supposed to sound like it's being played by death himself,”

The suited man smiles down at his busy hands as he lays your boxcutter on the coffee table beside the whiteboard. “I-It tells us that death is the great equalizer. It doesn't matter if you have money or you're about to be kicked out of university for insufficient funds-” he cracks a small smile at that, pulling out a whiteboard marker in the process, “the dance of death is inevitable for us all. Money can't buy you out of it.” You shake your head, “It's real medieval shit.”

You watch him smile again. It's devastatingly attractive which immediately raises the alarms in your own head. This man has restrained you in a chair, in an undisclosed location. For all you knew, death was very well the thing waiting for you at the end of all this.

But he wouldn't stop you from killing yourself, only to kill you himself, would he?

You'd heard about serial killers being raging narcissists. You would virtually be a lousy victim, having already wanted to die.

That thought calms you somewhat.

“We're going to play ‘Hangman’,” he turns the board to reveal a simple drawing of a gallow and a man hanging from it.

“Are you familiar with it?”

“Of course,” you nod your head, your nerves level somewhat at the sight of the little stick figure.

Just guess a letter to a mystery before the Hangman is drawn. These were children's games.

“For every word you get right, a semester of your studies is paid in full.” He smiles, warmly, watching the awe blossom across your face. “You'll get your degree and become the psychologist you've always wanted to be.”

Your brows furrow, “H-How did you know I-”

“Of course there's a penalty to the game,” you watch him erase the little stick figure, as he draws the little lines corresponding with the amount of letters in the mystery word. “If you don't guess the correct words in time,” Time stands still. “Well… The word get carved into your skin.”

You had never been a cautious individual. When your mother would fret and nag about your safety, you would roll your eyes. Everyone else always had self preservation for you. Why would you need it? Bad things rarely happen to boring people. The news coverage worthy stuff? You?

But here you were, fucking drowning in the Bad stuff.

"I'm not playing,” You begin to try and twist your wrist out of the restraints as your panicked eyes zero in on the blade seated on the desk. “I'm not fucking playing-”

“I'm afraid that isn't an option. What's your first letter?”

Despite the soundproof padding stylishly plastered against the sleek black walls you still scream "HELP-Oh my god- HELP”

He walks over towards you in large strides, clamping his hands in your skull and pulling your head back. He's much closer now. Closer than he had been at the park. His eyes are sparkling with intensity and a manic sort of quality that escaped you on your first meeting. Where were these eyes when you were still on that park bench, still able to choose to run far, far away to the nearest police station.

Where were these wild eyes then?

“Look at how scared you've gotten...” He laughs, in your face, “A scared, terrified little Doll-”

“Please let me go-”

“I'm not the one keeping you restrained here.” He lifts his hands as if he were completely crime-free, “You decided to play this game out of your own volition. You're restraining yourself, Doll”

“Jesus, that doesn't even make sense-” you cry, “HELP-”

He pulls a tighter grip around your hair, silencing your cries as a wince bleeds out of your instead..

“You don't wanna do that,” he says, staring deep into your glassy irses, “I have a thing for little girls with pretty tears-”

“Please don't hurt me-” you didn't wanna be a newspaper girl. You didn't want to be a nobody-turned-somebody because her death was so grisly it graced the front pages of a newspaper. That isn't the way your story was supposed to go and so you plead with the humanity inside him. You search for it under all that black ink filling his almond eyes.

Nothing.

They're absolutely black.

“Guess a letter, Doll."

You steal your nerves. Your shoulders slump.

“E-Every word has a vowel in it right?” his eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips against the side of your face. He seems like he's transforming into a completely different person right before your very eyes and it set you alight with fear.

Fear and something else.

“That's it, now we're getting somewhere,”

“I'll go with ‘A’,” a tense, mortifying silence stretches between you too. He begrudgingly removes his hand from your hair, patting down your head like the child he regressed you to as he strolled to the white board.

“Correct.”

He writes the letter ‘a’ twice on the little lines. The first one of the second line and the second one on the fourth line and almost with your brain slotting into place you raise your head. you wipe a stray tear on your shoulder before saying, “I-I- know what the word is.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Already?” Intuition was a scary thing. It was like a last resort, leaving you clamouring for hope.

“Care to share,”

“Is there an ‘r’” you look up at him. “I need to be sure.” Your legs are fidgeting in anxiety. Your fingernails dig into the leather under the armrest.

He is quiet as he draws an ‘r’ over the second last line.

“Macabre. The word is ‘macabre.’”

A slow almost predatory grin stretches across his face.

“How much did you say tuition was?”

Your heart stammers in its chest.

For those few moments you don't think about death. You don't think about blood. All you think about is that outstanding amount as you murmur a quiet, “₩3,893,852.”

You had it memorized.

The number that haunted your every waking hour, bleed from your lips like a prayer.

You watch as he lowers the white board marker to uncover a phone in his back pocket. He taps a few buttons and in a matter of moments- he turns his screen towards you.

What a remarkable day this had turned out to be.

“How do you know my banking details?,” you ask, squinting your eye at the screen, “Who are yo-”

“That round was too easy.” He moves to sit back down, “Here's your next word,” your heart falls when he only draws three lines underneath the gallow.

Three letter words could be the easiest or the most difficult when it comes to a game like this.

“A?’” you ask through wet lashes. Your only option was to hammer through the list of vowels.

“Ooh-” he pouts, before drawing a Hangman's head. “Try again.”

“E?”

He's silent as he draws a stick for The Hangman's body. The panic kickstarts once more.

“Shit-”

“That's not a letter?” He jests, “One more non-word and you're Disqualified, Doll.” His knee is bouncing up and down. As if everything in him was anticipating the end of the game. Your nerves are drowing in anxiety.

“I-”

“You can't just name every vowel under the sun, Doll. You don't have very many options remaining.” He draws the stick figures first arm.

4 chances left.

“O?” Your breath catches in your lungs. You watch as he throws his head back to lift his hips slightly, as if adjusting his pants. It almost immediately lowers your gaze to the prominent bulge there. Fuck. Not only was he anticipating your loss, he was getting off to the thought of it.

“Well done.” He writes ‘o’ in the second line. Right between the middle and end lines.

“Uh- ‘c’”

He adds another appendage to the stick figure. “3 more chances remaining.” He says, standing up. His arm jitters as he picks up the boxcutter in.

“G-” you ask through tears. He kneels in front of you, his eyes are almost as desperate as yours.

“You are the most fun I've had in years,” he admits, before turning to draw another appendage.

“Guess again, Doll,” the boxcutter extends and you cry.

“You don't have to do this,” You plead and he only sighs as he places his forehead against yours.

“You are such a brave little girl, you know that-”

“Oh my god-”

“2 more guesses.”

“‘T?” You squeak out so quietly, as your eyes squeeze shut.

He presses his lips to your right cheek and you melt. The fear all disappears and it's just you and him. Even on his knees, he's so large, so towering. It sets you alight with incomparable need.

“Well done, Doll- I'm so proud of you, " he sighs, “One more word, baby.”

“P- wait, No!" the sound barely makes it out of your mouth and looks down at you, chest rising and falling.

You hold your breath, eyes wide and wet and it makes him so fucking hard.

“Y- my answer is ‘Y’.” He exhibited all the signs of a sadist. Of course his word for you word be-

“That's my answer. “Toy”

A tense silence bleeds as he brings the boxcutter into your field of vision, and you're once again writhing in your seat. “Please- please no-”

“Fuck I'm gonna need to cum-” He admits gravely. Even more grave, even more harrowing, you're squirming in your seat. Lust balling deep within your cut. You're terrified but so utterly turned on.

Is masochism a symptom of loneliness?

“Please-”

He presses the blade to your leg and you both watch as he sinks the tip down onto your skin. For all those moments, you revel in the pain. The blade breaks skin and you cry out as droplets of blood grows pregnant along your thigh. Danse macabre crescendos and tears fall. As he swipes his finger along the drop of crimson.

“D-Did I not get it right?"

“”You got it right,” he admits, undoing the buttons of his blazer as he stands to his heavy feet once more. The menacing shadow of a God. He's humongous and you crane your neck back to look at him.

“my little winner-” he mumbles, planting a heavy hand on your head as his other hand rubs over his erection.

“I-If I got it right,” you mumble through your sniffles, “Th-Then why did you cut me?”

He looks down at you. The hand planted on your head moves down to the side of your face as he unzips his pants. Your heart is banging out of its cage as he lowers his pants just enough to have his hand slipping into his boxers.

He watches the blood smudged across your thigh.

“I just-” he curses as he uncovers his fully erect cock, leaking precum,“I just wanted to see your blood.” he admits gravely before bringing his cupped hand to your lips.

'Spit.’ He commands.

You're unable to look away. The precum beading the head of his cock slides down the thick veins along the length of it- all the way to the base. You want him in your mouth. Inside you. The need and the pain is an avalanche of contradictions.

He makes you feel so scared, so wanted.

“Don't make me ask again.” He says darkly, tilting your head up to look deep into his eyes.

His fingers prod at your lips and your mouth falls open as his hand delves inside. “Tongue out.” He whispers hoarsely, cursing once again when you roll your tongue out. Somehow incredibly obedient.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, Doll?” He asks, bringing the tip of his cock to your lips. You nod cautiously, feeling yourself descend into a state of mind you'd never been at before. You feel so pliant with his hand still on your cheek as he guides his cock into your mouth. You feel completely reckless. Someone like you who spends her time studying and worrying. Right now you were made to feel completely empty.

“That's it-” he coos, looking so utterly pained as his cock slides against your tongue, “That's my Doll,” he thrusts in and out of your mouth and you just sit there. Quite literally a doll. You let him use you, feeling more useful now than you've ever felt in all your years of living. There is beauty in submission that has a wet spot forming along your panties. You writhe as he begins to fuck your throat, drawing out a moan from him in the process.

“Shit- you're such a good girl-” there's fire in his eyes as he thrusts in and out. His hands move to the back of your head, forcing you down deeper on his cock. The sounds of your struggle -the gagging- it has his cocm twitching in your mouth

“Fuck-” he grunts, breathing so heavily as you begin to writhe in your seat, needing air.

“I knew you were special, Doll- I knew you were so far beyond self preservation- it borders pathetic” the saltiness of his precum trickle down your throat and you attempt to stomp your feet as your cries vibrate around his cock.

“Look at your hips moving baby,” he says, “You like this as much as I do. You're on my side. Even if you think you aren't.” Your hips are circling as if you're searching for friction along the chair as he groans. “Tell me you're on my side.”

He pulls your mouth off his cock and you breathe in deeply. You're coughing as droplets of spit run down your mouth. Spit and tears. Your face shows it all.

Your voice is hoarse. “I'm on your-”

“F-Fuck- I'm gonna cum-" He brings his cock back to your lips, “All over that pretty fucking face- fuck,” your tears fall as he strokes cock, emptying cock over you face. You keep your eyes shut, letting the sound of his pleasure-filled groans shoot straight to your puffy clit.

“I'm not letting you go,” his thumb moves over the cum coating your face. He moves his thumb past your lips, letting the cum seep into your mouth. Saltiness and need.

He needed you.

“You're not?” You ask petulantly, sucking on his thumb like you've regressed right before him.

“I'm not.” He confirms, “My little winner.”

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[thewertsearch]

As you must have gathered by now, my employer will enter this universe quite soon. I will then relinquish my custody to him, and she will serve as his Handmaid for an eternity to be specified. [...] Though her most common of blood should have let her expire in just a dozen or two sweeps, [...]

A dozen sweeps? Rustbloods only live to be in their twenties?

Thank fuck Aradia’s a god now, is all I’ll say – and Kanaya, when you finally make the neo-Matriorb, can you please remove that trait?

[...] his curse kept her very much alive. And she did not intend to stay that way.

Ouch.

She looks so cool... but she’s so tragic... but she looks so cool...

While I am his weapon of subtlety and precision, the Handmaid is strictly an apparatus of terror and suffering. We have both paved the road to his arrival, I in my way and she in hers. She would be present during every watershed moment in her civilization's development. Her recurrance in history would earn her the reputation of a demoness, more feared than even her master, a man though dreadful rarely makes himself seen. She stirred up class warfare and intensified bigotry in whatever era she haunted.

So what you’re saying, for the record, is that trolls are so resistant to this way of living that English had to subcontract a second time-travelling demon to constantly force them to be more evil, and they kept rebelling anyway. Just so we're clear.

She made sure the descendents would enter a world which prepared them well for the game, and took measures to see that they would play as they did.

Aradia did call the Voices her 'ancestors', after all. Sounds like the Handmaid was speaking directly into her ear, taking advantage of their familial connection to nudge her along the path Scratch had planned for her - which mostly involved nudging her co-Players along that same path. There really is no end to this web.

Now, six centuries later, she would be given one last order to follow before her curse was lifted. A simple recruitment job. The Handmaid will enlist the Condesce, extending the same bargain once offered to her. [...] The Condesce will serve as her new master's witch, carrying out his work in the places he cannot reach.

There are places inaccessible to English, which is very valuable information. He’s able to enter the troll universe, so he clearly doesn’t need an agent there – so where is he sending the Condesce?

Perhaps English is only able to enter a universe he has marked for predation. If he’s trying to mess with an unmarked universe – such as, to choose a totally random example, the kids’ universe – then he needs to send in a deputy.

I also didn't miss that the Condesce is noted to be English’s ‘witch’. We already know that her touch ‘extends life’, so it’s looking like she shares a full Title with her descendant.

[thefusioncelestial]

Mix 20: Together Again in the Next Life

The song choice for this story is Past Lives by Borns.

Here is Rayan:

Handsome, rich, and will be the head of his family some day. But there is an issue.

He is gay.

The issue was not his religion, but of the family rules. The heir of the house can not marry a man because he is expected to continue the line. If he was a second or third son, it would be ok, heck his second sister is dating his bestie for life, Laila.

This is nothing new for his family as supposedly his great grandfather had the same issue, but did his duty. As for his proposed mate, he & his family was sent to an eastern European country to live another life.

Thing is...fate has a funny way of striking back.

The one who he wants to be with is Luka:

Come to find out, he is the great grand nephew of his great grandfather's jilted lover.

It was an open secret, but the family of this rejected man wasn't abandoned by his ancestor. When his lover was sent away, his family went with him. As a protest, he never took another lover, but his sister did have descendants, and this is where Luka came in. They were employed to take care of one of Rayan's father's properties. It was a beautiful lake house.

Rayan & Luka grew up together in a way. He spent summers there, and they got to know each other that way, and when it came time to look at other people in that way, they fell in love.

Rayan told his father, but his father wouldn't budge. The family line continues with him no matter what.

He & Luka both graduated from university, separate ones at that in hopes that Rayan would fall in love with a girl and forget about Luka, but it didn't work. They made their long distance relationship work against all of the odds.

The family was unmoved. Rayan & his great grandfather were not the first & second cases of this, and they won out every-time. If Rayan walked out on them, they would move on to the second son.

Rayan was informed as an "graduation" gift that he would be married to the daughter of a powerful ceo of a beef company. They would marry in during the Muslim month of Sha'ban.

Rayan was devastated & so was Luka when he got the news.

Rayan was on his way to see his true love one more time. He would give into his family's demands. With the power & wealth, he could at least continue supporting Luka & his family.

The area was this dull blue-grey & overcast like in Twilight.

Rayan hated Twilight.

He walked through the home & found it empty of staff. This was typical so that Rayan & Luka could spend personal time together without prying eyes.

He was soon out back with the lake facing him. Luka was down there cutting the view. How could Rayan enjoy the view when the most beautiful man was right there.

Luka was holding a sign up:

"No shirt lift, No love."

Rayan was perplexed by this. Luka was bad at jokes and a tad strange when he tried to be romantic. His whole family was eccentric in their own ways. Luka's father was obsessed with oranges. Spent his whole life studying them.

Rayan did as the sign said:

He let it down and went to Luka. They both had beaming smiles. It was not too long before they broke into a hug.

The joy went into a slight sorrow.

"What's wrong my handsome ghurab," Luka wondered.

"You know why. I am off to be married to someone not you," Rayan said tearfully.

Luka's mood then turned sad as well, but more like an older brother trying to comfort their younger sibling. He then took his right hand and wiped the tears from Rayan's face and kissed his forehead.

"You know this will be the last ti-"

"Don't worry about that. You are here. I am here. Let's forget about that while we are here," Luka said.

Luka was eccentric, but he was also the more mature of the two. He had a habit of trying to make the best of even bad situations.

Rayan was under a lot of pressure. He was part of a family with a long history & silently powerful. Thousands of years of history was riding on him. His worries extended to more than just who he married. That power & wealth demanded growth or maintenance. If only Luka could be there by his side to assure him. But his father feared that Luka would be Rayan's side piece, getting caught once in the embrace of love making would take the family down. The family was unusually liberal about same sex relationships, but their society & religion was not.

Rayan could lose his life.

Luka broke away from their embrace, but kept his grip on Rayan's right hand. Rayan was the physically stronger between the two, but he was in no state to want to leave Luka's touch.

They were soon at the coast of the lake, water lapping at their feet in waves. It was warm, unusually warm.

Luka looked back at Rayan with the warm smile.

"Trust me," Luka said in a confident but soft tone.

He walked into the lake and pulled Rayan along with him. When he was waist deep, he let go of Rayan. He swam to the center of the lake, now just his upper neck & head visible.

Rayan was confused. Luka did a head nod to beckon Rayan to him. Rayan sighed and followed suit. After a few minutes they both were facing each other, just neck & heads.

They were deadpan in the face & staring at each other. They were noting every feature on each other's face.

The sky went from gloomy to deadly. It started to rain and lightning was heard & seen. Yet despite the danger, neither moved or talked about getting out of the water.

Luka love how the rain slid down Rayan's face, and in turn Rayan loved the bright contrast the light of lightning imparted on Luka's.

They were Rain & Lightning. Together they were the Storm.

Luka went underwater for a moment, and Rayan felt something under his shirt. After a few minutes of something touching him all over, Luka appeared above the water now sharing Rayan's shirt. It was stretchy enough to hold both.

"Just a moment," Luka said.

Rayan smiled but also clinched his teeth. Feeling Luka move about skin touching made him ticklish. Luka forced his legs through Rayan's pants and underwear. They were now wearing the same pair of clothes.

The shoes didn't make it. Both pairs fell off their feet with the socks, and were now sinking to the bottom of the lake.

They stared at each other without talking and started to kiss. Underneath the waves they embraced each other. One last cuddle in the lake surrounded by rain, wind, and lightning. It was as if mother nature was sad at their soon to be departure.

But something happened. A bolt of lightning hit the water near them. The lovers were felt no pain, but they quickly seized up and were out cold. Their eyes went literally white. They were still embracing each other.

Was this their fate? To die together young?

Luka & Rayan were now in a white space together. In that day's clothing but out of the water & dry. They were embracing each other, but when they came to they broke the embrace more concerned with their new surroundings.

"Where are we," Rayan thought.

"I don't know, maybe we broke the matrix," Luka said.

Luka hates The Matrix franchise.

Rayan flinched. Did he just hear Luka's thoughts? Did Luke hear his?

"Cool," Luka said. His calm nature & eccentric traits keeping him from panicking.

"I see you are still a scary cat even after reincarnation. I am sure the now me will fix that soon," a voice boomed.

A young man appeared before the duo. Luka was confused, but Rayan recognized him! Luka's great grand uncle, the one his own great grand father loved.

"Ha, as if. Maybe the new me will heal that scar on yours," another voice boomed.

Rayan turned, it was his great grand father, but in the prime of his youth.

"Jaddi," Rayan boomed.

"Still as emotional as always. I loved that about that you," his Yaddi said.

"Where are we, what is going on," both Luka & Rayan said at the same time.

Both ancestors looked around.

Yaddi said:

"I am guessing we are in both your head spaces. As for why, you two have been given a great opportunity. I know what you two are going through. I was in a similar boat."

He looked at his true love Omar. Samir blushed.

"We both were, but we didn't get a chance to choose this."

"What is this & why are you here," Luka asked.

Omar said:

"Like he said, this is your headspace. Quite empty by the way."

A chair popped out of nowhere behind Omar & he sat.

"Much better."

Samir did the same.

"You are getting a choice. See those two black swirls there, jump in & you wake up as Luka & Rayan and you copy the decisions of your past lives. Go through the green swirl & you movein this world together as one."

"We get to be together," Luka sounded excited.

"What do you mean past lives," Rayan asked.

Samir said:

"We are you and you are us. By some cosmic joke I reincarnated as my own great grandson & the heir at that."

Omar said:

"And my own great grand nephew. It appears that family traditions can't keep us apart. We found each other in the next life and fell in love again. My guess to give us a chance to choose different."

The ancestors got up and walked towards Luka & Rayan. They faded away into their respective current selves.

"Choose love," they both said.

Luka & Rayan were dumbfounded. They were soul mates. Literally.

It didn't take much convincing after that. They were soon at the green swirl. They took one deep breath together and jumped in together.

They were in a mental replica of the lake house. It was bright outside. Somehow they knew that they chose love, to be together.

This was their mental space now, his space now. They mentally became one. His mind & self being, founded in love.

Outside in the real world, the two lovers were still in the lake surrounded by the storm. Their heads were initially cocked back facing the sky, but their heads moved the rest on each other's shoulders. They also began to breath in tandem with each other. One exhaled, the other inhaled.

The side of their faces that were touching each other began to mix & merge with each other. Each breath pushing their heads closer & closer to being one.

Half way through this, their chest followed suit in merging more like melting, and their legs & feet too. The arms & hands that was touching their backs and obliques soon melted into those same backs.

When this was 75% done, their waists & nether regions mixed and merged.

A few more moments later and they were one humanoid mass. Featureless, but clearly human.

Another lightning bolt hit near this being. The energy released was used to fuel the next stage.

Luka's & Rayan's dna broke apart and remixed into a new helix.

If one could hear clearly underwater, they would hear cracks and pops. Luka was taller than Rayan, and so the new being's spine was getting longer. Pressure & release was felt as new vertebrae was forming. This happened with the legs and arms as well. And following the bone lengthening was bone thickening in all of the skeletal structure. This stopped once the being was 6'8.

As if a empty balloon, the chest began to fill slowly with new muscle as if it was taking in water. This also happened with the legs and arms. The being had no mouth but you could hear it moaning. As the muscles fill in, it felt itself getting physically stronger and stronger.

There was a sudden pop. The shoulders and neck exploded with muscle. More than what Luka & Rayan had.

"Ahhh"

Stomach was initially a bubble gut, but the skin began to get tighter. The passing of each second, the stomach began to shrink and tighten, the bubble gut gave way to an eight pack.

"Ugh"

At the same time the buttock grew two sizes in two pops, but the nether regions grew with more consistency, like he was getting slowly erect. At the skin tightening reached his nether regions, he had Rayan's girth, and Luka's length. His jewels were the combined mass totals of his fusees jewels.

The skin around his hands and toes tightened too, he now had properly formed digits.

His was breathing slowly now. Each breath brought in a facial feature.

His eyes were Rayan's, but had hints of Luka's. His eyebrows were a bushier form of Rayan's but a slight cut in the right eyebrow formed, a hallmark of Luka's scar. He had Luka's nose only a bit more flatter at the bottom. His ears were Luka's as well, but more rounder. His mouth a mix of the two. He had Luka's skull shape and chiseled features.

From his family jewels, a wave of testosterone flooded his body. Hair exploded from the base of his rod, a little in his chest, and all over his face. It was curly & black like Ryan's. Luka wanted Rayan to grow his hair out a little. He got that wish.

His skin color was at first like a swirl of two skin tones, but they settled on Rayan's.

Another lightning strike hit the water. The being was knocked out. He absorbed some of this energy as life force. Mother Nature was making sure he had an extra push.

He woke up, but he was lying on the coast of the lake instead of being inside it.

He stood up:

"What is going on, who am I," he wondered.

It was still raining but lightly, but the sun was coming out. It gave him a red glow.

He walked back to the lake house, and was greeted by the servants there. They greeted him by Rayan's family name to denote respect. He was taken to his bedroom to dry up & not get sick.

He looked at the mirror.

"I am Rayan, no Luka," he was struggling to remember who he was. He had both of their memories in complete detail. And yet he had ones completely his own.

After a dry off & some new clothes, he remembered everything. Luka & Rayan merged to form him so that could be together forever. He was the heir in Rayan's family, his family. He was set to marry Amira, heiress to some radish fortune. But unlike the beef heiress of the old timeline, he liked Amira. Liked, not loved. They grew up together & were best friends. Maybe they turn that like into love.

Thanks to the boldness & confidence Luka imparted in this being, he had postponed the wedding by almost a decade. He would be allowed to discover & grow into his adulthood.

He was Rayan, he was Luka, but more importantly, he was Nazih.

[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 1) 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

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 have to 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).

[fandomtrumpshate]

Unlisted Fandoms Challenge

While we pull together the post on the various types of fan labor being offered so far, here's a quick update on the *hundreds* of write-in fandoms we've received ...

At the top of the list we have Jeff Satur holding onto the lead with 7 entries, but Zhen Hun/Guardian is right on his heels with 6. And then there's a three-way tie for third place with 5 write-ins each for BBC Ghosts, Control (Remedy Game), and Dungeon Meshi / Delicious In Dungeon. Schitt's Creek claims fourth place with 4 entries, and in fifth there's a 14-way tie:

Alien Stage Cabin Pressure Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast) Fire Emblem Awakening Fire Emblem Fates Iron Widow Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint Roswell New Mexico Stand By Me/The Body by Stephen King The Goblin Emperor Series - Katherine Addison Transformers Voltron: Legendary Defender White Collar Zhen Hun / Guardian (drama) RPF

All it would take to upset the apple cart and reset the leader board is one signup. Manage two and it's a whole new ball game. Yes, we're mixing metaphors. And we're not done yet!

Below the cut are the 133 fandoms that have so far received only ONE signup. Want to really shake things up? Get two more signups for any of these and watch them leap into the fray on the leader board ...

10 Things I Hate About You (1999) Among Us Arctic Monkeys/The Last shadow Puppets Around the World in 80 Days (TV 2021) Baseball RPF BBC’s Musketeers Bendy and the Ink Machine Beyond Evil Black Doves Boygenius (Band)(RPF) Brokeback Mountain Bullet train Canji Baojun De Zhangxin Yu Chong (The disabled tyrant's pet palm fish) Cassette Beasts Castle Challengers Charmed (1998) Danger Force (TV) Dark Deception Dark Rise Dead by Daylight Descendants Destiny 2 Dimension 20 Downton Abbey Dr. Stone Dragonball Dragonlance Dragonriders of Pern by Anne McCaffrey Due South Dune (Villeneuve) Emma - Jane Austen Etta Invincible Fangs of Fortune Farscape Fields of Mistria Finder no Hyouteki / Finder Series Flight Rising Formula 2/3 RPF Frieren Fruits Basket Gangsta (Anime & Manga) Giselle Grantchester (TV) Grimm Hatoful Boyfriend Haven (TV) Helluva Boss Henry Danger (TV) High School Musical (Movies) Hikaru no Go HLVRAI - Half-life VR But the AI is Self-Aware House MD In Other Lands In Stars And Time IndyCar RPF It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia Jeeves and Wooster Jet Lag The Game RPF Jurassic Park (Extended Universe) Kamen Rider Gotchard Kane and Feels Kraven the Hunter Kuroko no Basuke / Kuroko's Basketball Law & Order Law & Order: Special Victims Unit Lays of the Hearth-Fire Series - Victoria Goddard Lies of P Live A Live Lord Seventh/Qi Ye Mass Effect 1, 2 or 3 Mononoke (2007 series and 2024 movie) MotoGP RPF My Time at Sandrock Mystic Messenger NBA RPF Nerdy Prudes Must Die Norah Grant Bruce's Billabong books Oh No! Here Comes Trouble Once Upon A Time Order of the Stick Outlast games Over the Garden Wall Pacific Rim Pathologic Peaky Blinders Persuasion - Jane Austen Phandom Pirates of the Caribbean Power Rangers (2017 movie) Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen Prodigal Son Puella Magi Madoka Magica Quantum Break Ranma 1/2 Resident Alien Resident Evil Rise of the Guardians S.C.I Mystery S.W.A.T. (2017 show) Saint Seiya Saw franchise Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated (2010) She-Ra Netflix Shipwrecked Comedy Sonic the Hedgehog (Games) South Park Spinning Silver (Novik) Spirited Squid Game Starkid Musicals (no hp) Stephen King's It Stray Gods: The Roleplaying Musical Super Sentai That 70s Show The A Team (either the 2010 movie or the 1980s series) The Coffin of Andy and Leyley The OC The Pairing - Casey McQuiston The Paradise of Thorns The Radiant Emperor The Silt Verses The Umbrella Academy the vampire diaries universe The Venture Maidens The Walking Dead The West Wing Thousand Autumns Tokusatsu Tron Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles Turning Universal Century Gundam video games by Arkane Studios Wander Over Yonder Warriors / Warrior Cats Watcher Entertainment/BuzzFeed Unsolved RPF Wind Breaker Wonka Word of Honor Yellowjackets Young Wizards (Diane Duane) บ้านหลอน ON SALE / Peaceful Property (TV)

[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.

[skyrages]

it's always been weird to me how people moralize feeling things and having actions driven from emotions rather than logic and personal ethics.

people hear "low empathy" and assume that means low-empathetic behavior: things like abuse, manipulation, and conceptualize this cold, calculating, Inherently Evil thought process, and so when someone with low empathy is convicted of a crime, I think people who think emotional empathy = emotionally intelligent behavior think of it as those "inhumane" urges breaking through this "inauthentic veneer" that's able to be dispassionately thrown aside at any convenience.

I think people who are agnostic or not incredibly religious deal with the same sort of issue, because incredibly religious Westerners think that without being afraid of some greater enacter of divine or cosmic punishment, humans descend into selfish, cannibalistic anarchy. I've never personally understood it, but I'm autistic so I don't think I can explain it to you, it's just something I've had to accept that some people think lol

the issue with all of this, of course, is that emotional empathy isn't the only kind of empathy that exists, but neuroconvergent people like to pretend it is. people who struggle with "feeling" empathy should still be able to develop logical empathy. but people who feel empathy get weird about that for some reason.

I deal with dynamic empathy, so I'll be using my own experiences when talking from here on in.

say I find out that something that I've done inadvertently hurt someone I'm close to, either socially or through work/school or whatever, and I hadn't realized it in the moment.

when I have "normal" emotional empathy, I'm able to "feel bad" which tends to translate to physical sensations of guilt, such as an unsettled stomach or sometimes my hands start sweating. I find out I hurt someone I'm close to, I "feel bad," and so I'm emotionally motivated to go to that person and apologize, make things right, explain where I was coming from, and figure out how to avoid that kind of conflict in the future.

but I have moments when I have low emotional empathy. people who don't deal with empathy issues assume that when I'm in these states, I react to the knowledge that I've hurt someone with scorn and disregard, and make no effort to right any wrongdoing, because I "don't care."

in actuality, I'm able to step back and realize, hey, that was kinda a dick move. I'm not emotionally motivated to go and make things right with the person, but I'm inclined to do so because I'm aware that, according to my equity-focused code of ethics, I did something that wasn't okay. I may not hate myself for whatever happened, but I'm still aware that, hey, this person is important to me for a variety of reasons, and even if I'm dispassionate in this moment, I know that I have reasons to care about this person that extend beyond me "feeling bad." I will still make efforts to make appropriate amends, but I might not go out of my way the way I would when I have moments of hyper-empathy and be tripping over myself with emotional guilt.

sorry if this is kind of long, but emotional vs. logical empathy is a huge thing when talking about AVPD and NPD and other such personality disorders. it's always been very strange to me that people assume that because you don't "feel" a certain way doesn't mean you don't know what's right and wrong, simply by growing up and being aware of (if separate from, for a variety of reasons) your surroundings. it's something that, again, doesn't make sense to me, but I've had to accept that some people view the world from such perspectives.

I think different ways people feel things is interesting. Anyway, I agree that judging by emotions is absurd. But I do think your logical empathy has an emotional part that you don’t really count and isn’t universal.

[100s-of-random-things]

Audrey: I never hit snooze. Woodland birds make the best alarm clocks.

Trace: So do loud exhausts and gunshots.

[hannahhook7744]

Mad Maddy headcanons revised;

Her everyday look.

Her party look.

Her nighttime look.

Her overall aesthetic.

The headcanons:

Mad Maddy's full real name is Madeline Meraxes Mim.

Mal conned the name Mad Maddy for her.

She wears potion bottle earrings a good portion of the time.

Maddy saw Mal as a younger sister when they were younger because of how much they looked alike and has never felt more betrayed than when Mal poured hair dye over her head and broke her dolls.

After their falling out, Maddy began to despise dragons and never looked at them the same.

Maddy likes sloppy food, which no one really understands.

She's glad she's at the witch school because she's positive she wouldn't get anything done at Dragon Hall since she'd be too busy trying to kill Mal.

She and Rick Ratcliffe are an item.

She's into astrology and fake magic as well as real magic.

She studies shape shifting, teleportation, and size manipulation all the time because she wants to be able to do the things her grandmother can when she gets off the isle.

She still likes dolls and is really attached to them, which is a fact that few people know.

She is good with crocodiles, something Ginny taught her.

She is a part of Diego's band as well as Harriet's crew.

She is indifferent towards the anti-hero's club and mostly leaves them alone.

She dreams of getting her revenge on Mal often and obsessively.

She is 3 years older than Mal.

She's into dark magic.

She had a soft spot for children, dolls, pigs, dragons, and chickens.

She is also big into mysteries and wanted to be a detective when she was younger before she became the navigator for Harriet's crew and the bassist for Diego's band.

Now being a detective doesn’t really interest her anymore, even if she could have become one easily by joining the Badun detective agency.

She can't sing but she's great at playing the bass.

She's also big into space and the planets.

No one really likes crossing her cause she's scary and never forgets.

She's almost a better thief than Jay.

She also tries to contact spirits a lot because surprise, she's into cryptids and the supernatural—especially ghosts.

She also enjoys food fights.

She has a lot of trust issues because of Mal and it took awhile for her friends to gain her trust because of this.

She hates pranks and traitors.

She loves parties and sailing though.

She loves exploring—mainly urban exploring though.

Oh and she has a pet chicken named Draco.

Oh and she's great at the spy thing too but she only does it for friends and her grandmother.

She has lots of magical tattoos. 

Maddy has been raised by her grandmother ever since her mom ran off and her dad died.

Her older siblings and cousins don’t care for her, which hurts her greatly even if she’s good at hiding it.

She misses her dolls and her hair that Mal destroyed, and can’t bear to look at her old dollhouse or in the mirror.

Her hair is permanently damaged as long as they are on the isle. Nothing she, her friends, or her grandmother did fixed it.

She cried for days and days after the fateful day her hair was ruined.

Rick in an attempt to cheer her up scoured the barrages until he found something he thought she’d like—which turned out to be lollipops and a sandblaster which he used to make tombstones for her dolls. 

They proceeded to have a mass funeral for her dolls which the entire crew attended (even if the LeGume twins thought it was stupid).

They were 11 at that time. 

Rick also collected any dolls he found after that to give to Maddy who got in the habit of hiding them to keep them away from people who destroy them.

The nicknames of Maddy’s sisters are Wacky Wrenley, Loony Lilias, Insane Imogen, Crazed Clara, and Batty Blair.

None of them like their nicknames—especially not Maddy who was only nicknamed ‘Mad Maddy’ after people saw the (in their opinion, extreme and unjustified) grief she had over the destruction of her hair and dolls. 

Her friends, grandmother, and Rick give anyone who uses the insulting nicknames in their vicinity the evil eye.

[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.

- Pairing: 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.

[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.