#onward fanfic

[justamessedupdisneyprincess]

Lost in labyrinth mall! An onward fanfic! This fic focuses on Izzyley, a SI x Canon ship!

Part 3!

Izzy and Barley happily chatted during the drive to the mall. Along the way they had exchanged music, which was a little activity they tend to do during any road trips. Barley may introduce Izzy to a song he likes whilst Izzy would do the same. The elf was quite surprised to learn about Izzy’s preferred genre. He didn’t know exactly what she might like but it certainly wasn’t something so loud and full of energy and melody. Her love of dubstep was quite ironic given how she tends to hate most loud noises around her. She even introduced him to a new type of genre he has come to really like, even purchasing some of those songs for himself! Metalstep. Which is exactly what it sounds like. Izzy enjoyed many of his songs as well, she liked rock and metal as well. But she has a weak spot for a “sick” drop. Which would be the last thing one would expect from her.

“So ummm…I’ve actually been having some weird dreams where I can make music.” Izzy started at some point in the conversation.

Barley laughed a little. “Pretty much anyone can make music if they pour their heart’s fire right into it.”

“Yeah, but I mean like with mind powers. Like I can make my own dubstep out of thin air.” Izzy added.

Barley laughed a bit harder, he can see what she meant by weird then. “Now that would be one heck of a skill! Y’know I would listen to anything you make.”

“Well they actually sounded super good! Which kind of makes me wonder if I could become a DJ or something…but then I try to make music and it’s so much that I don’t have any idea what to do.” Izzy sighs. “I can hear the drops perfectly in my head but I can’t figure out how to make them a reality. It gave me a newfound respect for musicians.” She sounded a bit frustrated. In some cases Izzy had dreams where she wished so hard for it to be real, these types of dreams were one of them. Of course there are ones she is grateful that are not only real but she hopes to never ever have again, such as anxiety dreams about her teeth falling out, those ones always unsettle her.

Barley shrugs a bit. “You might be able to one day with enough practice. Actually ya know what. I know you totally can do that.”

Izzy chuckles a bit. “I dunno, it all seems pretty complex to me. I guess one day I might try and learn more about it.”

Her creativity, that was just one of the many things Barley loves about her. She is talented with quite a few things, such a writing, drawing and even sculpting. But the main thing that made her stand out were her ideas. She had so many of them, so many it can get overwhelming for her at times. She would often describe how she doesn’t get art block or writers block, but rather she gets so many ideas she doesn’t know where to start. She calls her brain a factory for concepts and that it’s both a blessing and a curse. Because of how bizarre and unique her ideas are though, Barley has grown obsessed with hearing any stories she may come up with.

They finally arrived at the mall and managed to find a park as well. Izzy looked on ahead and noticed a large tree just in front of the entrance, but this was no ordinary tree…it was alive! But alive in the sense it was sentient and aware. She saw the movement but this was her first time seeing anything like this! “Barley…Is it just me or is that tree moving?” She says nervously, worried if it may be a sign the ancient mall was haunted. Then she thought…’wait…this place could totally be haunted if it was literally a bizarre labyrinth where hundreds of explorers died in horrific ways!’

Barley nodded her head and couldn’t help but giggle as he saw the unease on her face. “Yep, he sure is!” He says.

Izzy looked over at him with a puzzled expression on her face. “He?”

“Haven’t you ever met a whispering elm tree before?” Barley replied with a little teasing smirk.

The imp’s blue eyes shot wide open. “No, I haven’t met one before! I did see them in movies before though- to be honest I actually thought they were fictional.” Izzy says, clearly amazed.

“Yeah, they are actually pretty rare now. They were rare in the olden days but now…it’s like shiny Pokémon sorta rare.” He says, just to give Izzy a better idea.

The couple began to walk towards the entrance. “I…kinda feel sorry for them though. Do you think they ever get bored or lonely being stuck like that?” Izzy asks, as usual she was the type to overthink things but in this case she did have a good point.

The grin on Barley’s face grew larger, as he had more knowledge to share. “For saplings maybe.”

As he had expected, his inquisitive girlfriend cocked her head to the side like a puzzled dragon pup. “Eh?”

As usual, Barley was happy to enlighten her, after giving her a little teaser for it first though of course. He just lots to see her little reactions! “Old elm trees can pull themselves out of the earth and use their roots to walk around.” Barley stated. “However, they can’t walk too far for too long because of how big and heavy their bodies are. So basically, they prefer to be sitting in the soil but they are not bound to it…or at least most of them are not.” He looked a bit saddened as he said this. He then leaned down to Izzy and whispered into her large pink ear. “Don’t bring it up but…the stupid idiots who decided to modify the place built tiles all around this guy and now he can’t move anywhere at all…he is a bit touchy bout it…rightfully so…but best to keep quiet.”

Izzy’s blank expression changed into an extremely exaggerated look of utter rage. Little wrinkles could be seen around her frown and eyebrows, her scowl was that intense. “Those thoughtless, inconsiderate ****s…!” She says with a growl, she has a very dirty mouth and tends to curse without even releasing it.

It actually took Barley a while to get used to her unique language. “Ok, I think ****s is a bit much. But I pretty much do agree with ya.” He says, smiling as he came to admire her feisty personality. She had a real strong sense of right and wrong and he loved that about her as well.

Although upon arriving it seems like Izzy completely forgot about Barley’s warning to not speak of this topic around the old tree, she was just too worked up! The whispering elm looked over to her in shock as she suddenly asked him a question that came from the heart. “Ummm…excuse me? Are you feeling ok?” She asked, worried for the tree’s mental health.

Barley gulped as he immediately clings onto Izzy, almost protectively. “Haha…pssst…don’t provoke him…” he whispered.

The tree spoke in a loud and booming voice, which caused customers who came and go to stare intensely as they pass. “Well if it isn’t the poor excuse of a knight! Think you can whisper around a whispering elm, can you?” He says, sounding angry.

Barley smiled awkwardly. “Aha…so you remember that do ya?” Izzy looked puzzled as her head flung back and forth between the two.

The talking tree had not only a mouth but eyes and a nose as well! His little face scowled, like an angry bitter old man. “How could I forget the man who broke my favourite branch?!” He says bitterly.

“Aww, c’mon, buddy! That was just an accident!” Barley pleaded.

Izzy looked more and more puzzled but the negative energy was starting to make her anxious. She was desperate for answers but had been cut off by the furious old tree. “Um- what’s-“

“If I tore off an arm of yours will you say it’s an accident?” The tree swayed around, a few leaves fall down to the tiles that were placed over him, locking him in place forever.

“Well that depends. If you tore off my arm with the intent to do so that sure as heck won’t be any accident…but-“

“Don’t play games with me! I’ve had enough of you youngsters! Always treating us elm folk as if we were nothing more than mere objects.” The tree sways more, the creaking wood echos around the parking lot in an unsettling manner.

Poor Izzy’s head kept snapping between the two who seemed to have been arguing. She got more and more anxious as she is still left in the dark. Barley continued to defend himself as best he can. “Hey, I was the one trying to help you, remember?”

The whispering elm scoffs. “Some help you were.”

“What is going on?!” Izzy suddenly shouted out. Every living soul quickly glanced towards her, but she ignored the unwanted attention from strangers who passed by, she was just desperate to figure out what was happening.

That is when the whispering elm finally seemed to acknowledge her. “Well young lady, this man here decided to sit his fat rump on my favourite branch and he broke it right off!”

Barley frowns a bit. “I told you it was an accident! Besides…it’ll grow back.”

The tree laughed sarcastically. “Grow back you say? That branch has been part of me for over 50 years! Do you really think it will even grow back the same? It will look completely different! Not only that but for it to simply “grow back” would be decades worth of waiting! Might I remind you time feels even slower being stuck in this retched gloomy place forever?! Why, with the lack of sunlight I am surprised I haven’t even died by now from malnourishment.”

As the tree angrily went on a rant Barley grabbed ahold of Izzy and dragged her inside the mall. Izzy looked back at Barley, still confused. “What was that all about?” She asks, she knew there was more to the story than that. Barley may be reckless but she can’t imagine he would climb all over him and break branches without a valid cause for it.

Barley groans a bit, seemingly embarrassed. “It…wasn’t my finest moment. I was trying to dig out the tiles and help him escape but…the mall cop got to me and I tried to climb away from him and uh…you can probably imagine the rest….argh! I should have done it by nightfall!”

Izzy angrily glared back at the direction where the tree is. “You were just trying to help…Hey, when a whispering elm’s branch breaks off does it hurt them?”

Barley looked quite surprised to hear her ask more questions so soon. It was not like her to move on so quickly. “Erm…well it doesn’t not hurt, but it sure as heck isn’t like getting an arm torn off. From what I have studied it’s more like a small sting, like a paper cut if you will.” Barley says, he smiled a little at the little joke he made towards the end. After all, paper is made from trees.

“Did he need that branch as an arm to grab things?” Izzy asked next.

Barley thought for a moment. Whispering elms can use their branches to swat at things but they could hardly be used as extra limbs to assist them. “Eh…not really. I mean he can move it for a bit but he can’t actually use it for much of anything other than swatting enemies away in Quests of Yore.” Barley stated casually.

Izzy suddenly turned around and stomped her way back towards the grumpy tree. Barley quickly realised why she asked such questions, to try and figure out if he had any right to be angry or upset. She was already furious to see the way he spoke to her boyfriend, but she needed more answers to try and see his point of view. As she had suspected, the tree was just vain about the branch’s appearance, nothing more, nothing less. “Oh no…Izzy! C’mon, just leave it alone!”

[dogdaysareover365]

whumpril day 16

I Will Scream Them Loud Tonight

fandom: Onward (2020)

rating: teen

It started with an innocent cough…

@whumpril day sixteen - coughing fit

[ancha-aus]

RealAge AU Drabble - Parentalbond Dust

I am back :3 Another drabble for the RealAge AU (Thanks @spotaus as always for starting this treat by treating me to the first prompt that got this ball rolling)

First drabble Prev drabble Next drabble

Remember how in the last drabble I uploaded i mentioned those parentalbonds? (honestly if you read my drabbles in order these before things won't make ANY kind of sense... anyway!)

I had been thinking about how all of them bond with they new tiny boss and finally settles on how. The question then was. Who goes first?

I decided to go in order of who bonded with Nightmare first :3

So, big surprise. Dust. (everyone was surprised by this)

Warnings as always, unedited and unbeta'ed. We are here for a good and fun time.

Slight warning for Ghost/hallucination Papyrus being rude and mean and intrusive thoughts.

------------

Dust can admit that Nightmare is fast. Dust is just faster, by a lot.

As soon as Nightmare shifts Dust has an arm around him and drags him back to his side.

Nightmare glares at him, and it would have been terrifying and effective.

If Nightmare wasn't tiny.

Fuck DUst is still not over how TINY his boss is now.

Can Dust even still call him boss? That would be weird. Kiler tends to call Nightmare Tiny Boss now but Dust isn't quite set on a name yet.

Nightmare grumbles nad glares to the side once it becomes clear once again that Dust isn't going to get intimidated.

Nightmare glances at him before crossing his arms as he looks to the side "This is stupid."

Dust nods "I agree." Dust did not want to be here just watching Nightmare and keeping him from wandering and getting lost.

A cackle and then a whisper Really? First kidnaping and now keeping him a prisoner? How low you have sunk. Keeping a child captured and locked away.

Dust's hand forms a fist as he tries to ignore the muttering. They just need Nightmare to see he can trust them. That is all. That takes time. The chackle just chackles on.

Nightmare shoots him a look "It is stupid. I don't need supervision. I am fine on my own."

Dust goes to nod before blinking and shooting him a look "Yeah no. Nice try. I am staying right here."

Nightmare looks beyond annoyed but it is justified that one of them watches over him. Mostly because Nightmare had already managed to almost escape three times.

Look, it has been an hectic week since they euh... found Nightmare again.

Even more laughter that no one else hears Oh? That is what you call it now? That is what you call stalking a child? Following him everywhere? Finding out where he feels safest and surprising him there? Hah! Found! You are a liar and you even lie to yourself.

Dust glares harder at the dark wall as he pulls his knees up and leans on those as he watches the wall, still being a physical barrier between Nightmare and the door.

Nightmare glares at him but Dust just keeps glaring at the shedwall. Waiting. Hoping one of the others will come to relieve him of this babysitting duty. He hates it. He feels useless and stuck.

A huff Wow? Really? You decided to capture him and now you are annoyed you have to watch your prisoner? And even better the one you captured was the one to save you before? You really are thankless and impossible to please. You will never be happy or content and you don't deserve to feel other of those things.

Dust takes another deep breath. He needs a distraction. But what?!

Dust takes out his phone and scrolls through what he has on there. He sees a few movies and gets an idea.

He needs to wait while the others get supplies anyway. Cross is getting information about the multiverse, Horror is getting them food and Killer is getting them overall supplies.

Which means they should still be busy for a while.

Dust pauses as he shoots Nightmare a look. Nightmare had just been sitting there staring at his own feet as he wiggles his feet a bit. Distracted for a bit.

Dust grins as he reaches for Nightmare and quickly grabs him.

Nightmare immediantly freezes for a moment before glaring "What?!"

Dust grins and just turns him around and his old hoody that Nightmare had taken and stolen ages ago. and as Nightmare has his arms crossed he puts the hoody on him. He yelps but Dust doens't give him time to try and get his arms in the right sleeves. Instead Dust ties those together.

He thinks for a moment before grabbing his scarf and using that to tie up the slippery skeleton.

Dust takes a step back to watch his handy work and can't help but snort.

Nightmare looks shocked down at his state. The hoody already making it harder for him to move and now the scarf kept him even more from moving. The problem was. With Nightmare just being tiny and looking like a babybones... He looks plainly adorable. Fuck Dust kinda wished he had made a bow instead of a knot but he has a mission.

Dust nods and looks at Nightmare "Don't move. I am going to grab some food." He turns and leaves the shed.

It should take Nightmare at least a little while to escape that situation. And Nightmare hadn't tried another teleport after he butchered the last one and got them all thrown into a river. Which means that Dust doubts he will try another one soon.

Dust follows the road and by memory finds the pizza place they walked by not too long ago. He only has to wait for a little while before a delivery boy goes by on bike. He kicks off the guy and snatches the bag. Dust is already in the bushes again before the human has time to form a completely sentence.

Dust has to take a bit of a longer way back to make sure he doesn't go over the road. But as he cuts through backyards and gardens he can't help but feel a bit anxious. What if Nightmare escapes? How is he going to explain that.

By the time he is by the shed again he is close to shaking. He opens it and snorts as Nightmare seems to have fallen over. Less funny is the fact he has almost wiggled his way out of his trappings.

Dust puts the bag to the side and silently joins Nightmare's side "And? Is it working?"

Nightmare freezes before a mutter "I hate you."

That.

Dust isn't sure how to explain how much that hurts.

A sneer Really? Are your poor feelings hurt? By just that? What? Are you sad your so-called boss finally hates you? After all the disappointment and betrayal? And yet you feel sad? You truly are nothing but disgusting and disapointing trash.

Dust ignores it as he pulls Nightmare back upright and undoes the scarf binding and unknots the sleeves. Dust has already helped Nightmare with getting on of his arms into the right sleeve before Dust realises what he is doing.

Dust freezes and Nightmare ignores him as he quickly finishes dressing himself. After which Nightmare glances at him with an expecting look.

Dust instead just sits down on his spot on the ground. Opens the bag and fishes out the food. Oh nice. two pizzas instead of one. He lays both open near him before spotting some weird shake things, three of them. Dust shrugs again and places them near them. Next he grabs Nightmare again and pulls him right by his side as he opens his phone and scrolls through the movies.

Dust very quickly realises he deosn't really have movies without a high rating on his phone.Dust isn't even sure how far Nightmare's mind is at the moment.

Dust knows that Nightmare knows who they are. But Dust doens't know how old Nightmare is mentally at the moment. It isn't like Nightmare is sharing any of that information with them at the moment but Dust thinks he is at least a child again. He just also still has his adult form's memories and that is causing a bit of a disconnect.

Dust sighs and looks at Nightmare "Do you like horror movies?"

Nightmare shoots him a suspicious look before answering "I don't dislike them. They can be..." a frown as Ngihtmare thinks for a while before answering with some difficulty "interesting."

That was another thing that is slightly adorable. Nightmare is trying to still speak like he used to before but it seems that some of his knowledge has disappeared after regaining his true body.

Dust nods as he puts on the horror movie. It is one he thinks is okay even after seeing it four times. And only one of those four was because Dust had wanted to watch it.

He presses play and the movie starts.

Nightmare at first tries to keep his distance but it is a matter of time before he is focussed fully on the movie.

Dust grabs some food and eats it. He makes sure it push some towards Nightmare including one of the drinks.

The movie plays and they watch as some dude bro guy walks through the froest. Shouting about how he isn't scared and to come get him!

"... Why?"

Dust blinks and looks at Nightmare. Nightmare stares at him.

Dust looks back at his phone and the now paused movie "Why the guy is screaming? Mostly he is stupid?"

Nightmare frowns beofre looking away "No. I mean... Why.... this?"

Dust looks at the pizza and his phone "I just wanted to watch a movie?"

More frustration on Nightmare's face before he sighs. He then just looks back at the phone with a resigned expression. "okay."

Dust hates that. No. That isn't right. Nightmare doesn't give up and certainly doesn't give up getting answers to questions he has. Dust doesn't press play and looks at Nightmare "What why?"

Ngihtmare glances to the side. To all their things. "You don't... want to be here... with me. Why..."

Dust frowns "I told you? To make sure you don't escape."

More frustration on that tiny face and Ngihtmare looks away "it's not..." another sigh "whatever. When will you kill me?"

dead silence.

Dust turns sharply "What?!"

Nightmare shrugs "I figured... I wanne know."

Dust stares at Nightmare "What the hell? No we don't want you dead?! Why would we go out of our way to find you just to hurt and kill you?!"

Nightmare sits very still before shrugging again "it is the normal thing... normally."

The book. The fucking story. Fuck! He is a fucking idiot!

Nightmare is a child again! Nightmare is in the middle of his fucking trauma! To him the trauma happened days ago! Of course he thinks they would hurt him. That is what always happens.

How long has Nightmare thought that was the only reason anyone ever came to him? How long had a six year old have to fear the sound of someone approaching.

Dust looks away "We... aren't going to kill you... or hurt you." but... why would he beleive his words? Why would he believe anything any of them say after they arleady betrayed him once?

"okay."

It didn't sound like an okay in the way that he heard and believed what Dust said. it was an okay in the sense of a child being afraid to disagree.

Fuck.

Dust isn't sure how to... how to fix this mess. The mess he had partly created. He isn't even sure this can be fixed...

Dust glances back at him and speaks quieter "I mean it... we aren't going to hurt you. We don't want that." wait... he never... "I am sorry."

a long silence but he forces more out "we shouldn't have left. I shouldn't have left. I just... figured it wasn't my place anymore. I was wrong. I am sorry i left you." and it won't happen again.

Even just saying those things. Apologising. Dust feels lighter. It feels good. He needed Nightmare ot hear that Dust now realises.

Ngihtmare doens't say anything about it but does relax a tiny bit next to him. A very very fragile and tiny show of trust and Dust wants to grab it with both hands but he does't know how!

For now he turns the movie on again and makes sure the babybones is near him and eating and drinking.

Dust isn't even watching the movie anymore. He just listens out in case there is anyone who will try to hurt Nightmare or tempt this uneasy peace they have managed to create.

THe movie plays on and Dsut suddenly feels a weight against him. He turns and stares. Because Nightmare is asleep while leaning against him. Out like a light.

It doesn't even surprise Dust. As Dust doubts that Nightmare slept at all in this last week. Maybe even not before they took him with them.

Dust can't help but notice the very dark marks under those sockets. clear sighs of lack of sleep.

Dust moves slowly and carefully as he picks Nightmare up and puts him in his lap. Fuck he is freezing. Dust wraps his own hoody around him and it helps him relax.

He is safe. He is asleep. And while getting Ngihtmare to trust them again will be a long time and healing will be even longer... For now Dust is happy with his arms full of babybones.

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[nevermindigotthis]

A very peaceful image for a not very peaceful fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50217619/chapters/126832042 (I have finally found a Drarry fic that is to my tastes. Beware the tags though.)

[pancakeke]

there's a season 7 episode of house where a patient is all like "I've done horrible things im irredeemable and god wants me to suffer" but the mary sue med student member of the team convinces him that there's always hope. and then they send his dna off to a lab for a genetic test to confirm his diagnosis.

but the patient runs away. and then the FBI shows up. and it turned out that patient's DNA was found at the scene of 13 murders where the murderer ate his victims. the episode ends zooming in on the mary sue med student's horrified expression and then next episode no one acknowledges this serial killer again.

[nyx-knacks-writes]

The Parting of the Ways (Rose's POV)

For my first bit of Doctor Who writing... Nine's regeneration, from Rose's POV. Please be nice. I tried my very best. It took me upwards of two hours to get through the video because I was trying to be as detailed as possible with the Doctor's movements. And because I misheard the dialogue several times over and had to correct it.

All the dialogue, of course, belongs to the BBC.

“What happened?”

“Don’t you remember?”

A beat of silence passed by as Rose laid on the floor of the TARDIS, glancing about to confirm her location. The Doctor stood at the console, looking between the panel, the center column, and Rose herself. She lifted her head and found it swimming, hazy images passing by in front of her eyes, foggy and indistinct, just shy of tangible. It only took a moment for her to shake them off, though, and she carefully pulled herself up into something halfway to a sitting position, knees in the air in front of her.

“It’s like…” She paused for a moment as the Doctor looked away. A beautiful melody seemed to echo in her ears, something like she imagined the sunrise might make if it could sing. Or maybe it was more of a duet between the Sun as it rose and the Moon as it set. Threaded through the joy and love in the song was a terrible, haunting loneliness, as though the singer knew that this could not last. The sorrow of knowing such beauty must come to an end infiltrated and surrounded the gentle joy of the melody.

“There was a singing.” She lowered her knees to the floor and rested her palms on the cool metal, still shaking the cobwebs from her mind.

“That’s right. I sang a song and the daleks ran away,” the Doctor supplied, looking over and offering that big, wide charming smile. Baloney. The singer was female. It couldn’t have been him, though he was certainly telling the truth that the daleks were no longer around. He was too… easy, for lack of a better word. At ease, that was the phrasing she was looking for. They’d dealt with daleks (okay, one dalek the first time, but the number wasn’t important) before, and they put him rather on edge. They made him tenser, sharper, like a sword coming out of its sheath. The total opposite of how he was acting at the moment.

“I was at home. No I wasn’t, I, I was in the TARDIS and… ah… there was this light...”

In the corner of her eye, she caught the Doctor glancing downward, along the direction of his arm. Something glowed golden on the console, but she elected to ignore it. It couldn’t have been terribly important. Just some monitor going off, in all likelihood, reminding him to perform some regular maintenance task.

“I can’t remember anything else.”

It was painfully true. Like wisps of cloud in the wind, Rose couldn’t seem to get a solid grip on what had happened. Something had happened, clearly, but what? The ghosts of the ghosts of her memories were fading fast, turned transparent in mere seconds.

Another beat of silence.

The Doctor’s gaze fell back to her, though she didn’t see it for a moment as she performed another visual sweep of her surroundings. Rose made an irritated face and shook her head, at last deciding that it really wasn’t worth dwelling on. She glanced back up at the Doctor, lifting her eyebrows as she caught him watching her.

“Rose Tyler.” A little huff of a laugh escaped him, and his lips curled upward, back into that lovely smile of his before it pinched back inward as she prepared to lift herself up to stand.

“I was gonna take you to so many places. Barcelona? Not the city, Barcelona, the planet, Barcelona.” His face seemed to open as his eyebrows shot upward before closing again toward the end of the sentence. His shoulders bobbed up and down with his movements as he shifted around for emphasis. “You’d love it, fantastic place.” And there it was again, that smile that opened his face and sapped away every ounce of intimidation that he possessed. “They’ve got dogs with no noses.” He laughed at that, a wheezy little sort of laugh that turned into a ha-ha-ha, and Rose couldn’t help smiling with him as she finally pushed herself away from the floor.

“Imagine how many times a day you end up telling that joke and it’s still funny!” His eyes slipped back to the console.

“Then why can’t we go?”

Back to her.

“Maybe you will! And maybe I will. But not like this.” Back to the console again, the cryptic bugger.

“You’re not making sense.” It was Rose’s turn to have her face pinch together, though for her it was more in confused thought than clear thought.

“I might never make sense again! I might have two heads, or no head.” His current, normal, real-world head turned back and forth as he spoke, presumably checking in on whichever meters and dials told him the current state of the ship. “Imagine me with no head! And don’t say that’s an improvement,” he added as Rose smiled again, showing off her pearly teeth.

The Doctor dropped his head toward the console before picking it up again and swinging it to look at Rose once more.

“But it’s a bit dodgy, this process.”

The smile began to fade.

“You never know what you’re gonna end up with.” Without warning, he doubled over and sort of fell backward, his hands flying to his stomach as some sort of electronic wail ran through the air. His midsection glowed golden, and Rose lunged toward him. She didn’t have a clue what was going on, of course, how could she, but surely there was some way for her to help!

“Doctor!”

“Stay away!” he commanded, throwing an arm outward to ward her off. Admittedly, it stung. Hadn’t they been the best of friends? Hadn’t they had wonderful adventures together, even if they’d been rather less than safe? Hadn’t they… A single memory from whatever had happened between getting home and finding herself in the TARDIS once again nudged its way into her brain as she stared at him with concern. Hadn’t he kissed her? Hadn’t they been the best of friends who’d just so happened to fall in love along the way?

The Doctor brought his chin to his chest as his face contorted with pain, and Rose noticed that the golden light had vanished.

“Doctor, te… Tell me what’s going on.” Her voice wobbled slightly at the beginning of the sentence before firming up. He couldn’t just do this, just, be so openly struggling and in pain without letting her help.

He leaned his head back, gritting his teeth.

“I absorbed all the energy of the Time Vortex, and no one’s meant to do that!” He smiled again, the absolute nutter, and Rose paused, looking him up and down with her mouth open as though to say something.

“Every cell in my body’s dying.” Her eyes snapped back up to his face.

“Can’t you do something?” Rose edged closer near-imperceptibly.

“Yeah! I’m doing it now.” The Doctor came a little closer to the console and leaned on it for support. “Time Lords have this little trick, it’s, sort of a way of cheating death.” He paused, looking downward as his face wrinkled with pain.

“Except…” He lifted his head again to look at her.

“Except, it means I’m gonna change.” His head bobbed up and down in a halfway frantic sort of nod, the sort of nod one nods to communicate the sentiment that the present topic or situation is rather less than pleasant, but there’s really nothing to be done about it. “And I’m not gonna see you again. Not like this. Not with this daft old face.” Yet another smile. If he thought he was being reassuring, well… okay, it was kind of working, but it wasn’t like everything was alright again. Things might never be quite alright again, not if she was losing her Doctor. Not if she was losing the man who’d opened her eyes to what the world was really like, who’d shown her the marvels of space and time, and, admittedly, a good amount of the oddness going on in her own hometown in her own home-time.

“And before I go—”

“Don’t say that!”

“Rose.” He lifted his head from where it had dropped to his chest in order to meet her gaze, and oh, those eyes… He’d accepted his fate. It was obvious. His face had been screwed up tight, but now he’d opened it again just to pause, and Rose closed her mouth to let him speak.

“Before I go, I just want to tell you you were fantastic.” His head shook from side to side on the word, the catchphrase that he couldn’t go a day without saying, and the dam broke.

Tears welled up in Rose’s eyes, and an overwhelming ache stained her heart like a drop of dye in a glass of water. She wanted nothing more than to go to him, to hug him, to feel that leather jacket against her body and those lovely strong arms wrapped around her one more time. But of course, he’d never allow it. He had told her to stay back, and it must have been to protect her. Why else would he be so determined to keep her away when he must know how much of a stab through the heart it was to be… to be saying goodbye. To be saying a million things in her mind that seemed to choke in her throat and drift up to sting at her eyes, leaving them unsaid. And there he was, smiling through it all like he wasn’t leaving her behind, like he wasn’t disappearing away from her, never to be seen or heard or touched or felt again. If he wasn’t dying already, she’d kill him herself.

“Absolutely fantastic. And you know what?” he waited a moment, just a brief little moment. “So was I!” he concluded with a final, quick little nod. Rose smiled at him, one last time. That was the last thing she wanted him to see of her. A smile, something to let him know how much she loved him as he disappeared before her eyes.

His body went rigid, hands splaying out to the sides and head tilting back as though he were about to scream upward to whatever god or higher being might be listening. The force of the energy around him threw Rose backward, and she had to cling to one of the coral-like pillars in the TARDIS in order to avoid being thrown back even further.

Though she couldn’t see as the bones of his face shifted and changed, Rose did see a new plume of hair sprout from the Doctor’s skull, replacing the short brown hair she’d grown to love. The golden light faded away, and someone entirely new stood there in place of the Doctor, in place of her Doctor. He turned his head toward her.

“Hello. Oka— Mmm.”

He stopped speaking as quickly as he’d started, and the way his lips puckered and the skin of his cheeks hollowed and bulged in certain places seemed to indicate that he was probing around his mouth with his tongue.

“New teeth. That’s weird. So where was I?”

He looked toward the floor before looking back up at Rose, though he seemed to look through her rather than at her.

“Oh, that’s right. Barcelona.” He smiled and got something of a crazed look in his eyes as he finished, and all Rose could think was that he was so different.

Big, fluffy, chocolate brown hair. Brown eyes to match, replacing the icy blue eyes that had held so much, icy blue eyes that had watched her so carefully the first time he’d ever met her. This man was as skinny as a twig, a very slight bit taller than the Doctor, and a tad higher-pitched in the voice. 

What had he done with her Doctor?

[intermundia]

so!! i am thrilled to be able to shared the next chapter of war drums! thank you so much to everyone who has supported me over the past few difficult years and expressed enthusiasm for the story. it means the world to me. please enjoy!!

[boyrobott]

even you turned from me in disgust

the thing about living in a haunted house is this: horror always hits a little too close to home.

Read on AO3.

Astro really doesn't get the appeal of horror movies.

The way he sees it, he's already got plenty of bad guys trying to kill him day in and day out without worrying about a psychopathic child trying to suck out his soul in the middle of the night, or whatever's going on with those creepy little twin girls in the haunted hotel, and anyway, what kind of person actually wants to be scared? What kind of person likes gory bloodbaths where everybody dies at the end? What kind of person likes watching serial killers with garden knives for fingers, or possessed children spinning their heads around three hundred sixty degrees and spider-walking down a stairway, or a guy with a butcher knife and a mask murdering everyone he meets in increasingly awful and terrifying ways? What kind of person actually likes that sort of stuff?

…Well, apparently, Cora and Zane do, because they're going to have a whole marathon of horror movies the weekend before Halloween — and, for some reason, they've decided they want him there, too.

This presents a problem, because he really doesn't get the appeal of horror movies, remember, and something tells him several hours of them isn't going to magically change his mind, so he should just say he can't make it, come up with some plausible excuse or other, and forget all about it. But his work around the city has kept him so busy lately that he hasn't had a whole lot of free time to hang out with his friends for a while now, and he really misses them.

So he says yes.

Even though he seriously does not need to worry about some psychopathic child trying to suck out his soul in the middle of the night.

Surprisingly enough, it isn't actually that bad — or, at least, it's not that bad at first, as they settle in on the thick shag carpet in Cora's bedroom, with all the lights turned off (because Cora swears horror movies are way better in the dark), and the curtains pulled shut, and the TV screen glowing bright in the blackness, with a plastic bowl of buttery popcorn and enough fun-sized candy bars and cold sodas to put them all in sugar comas until New Year's.

…Although, to be honest, the first movie is a lot more depressing than he expected from something that's supposed to be scary.

"Why are they all so mean to Carrie?" he asks, more than once, with ever-increasing levels of distress, as the story unfolds. "I mean, she didn't even do anything wrong!"

Cora laughs, which immediately makes the whole bleak experience worth it, and tosses a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "I think maybe it's because she was really ugly in the book, or something? But that doesn't hold up here, 'cause, I mean, the actress is super-hot, obviously, so… yeah, I don't know. That TJ Porter doofus is always picking on you for no reason, isn't he? Some kids are just jerks, I guess."

Actually, Astro is pretty sure that TJ Porter is always picking on him because he's a robot, considering that's the primary focus of all his insults, but he's not about to bring that up. Last time he tried, Zane laughed and said you know he's just doing that 'cause he's jealous, right? and laughed even harder at the absolutely gobsmacked look on Astro's face as he tried to figure out why on earth anybody would ever be jealous of him.

"Oh, they're going to vote Carrie for prom queen?" he sits up a little straighter, before he remembers the teenagers on the screen pelted a sobbing girl with tampons for ten straight minutes, and laughed about it. "Wait, wait, hang on, why are they voting her in for prom queen, though? Are they trying to make up for what they did earlier, like Sue? That'd be a nice ending, I guess."

Zane sighs around a mouthful of Sour Patch Kids, and leans over to give him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Oh, you sweet summer child."

Once they get through Carrie, they go through three more films — he finds out exactly what's up with those creepy little girls in the haunted hotel, for a start, which is something he could have happily lived the rest of his life not knowing, and there's another creepy little girl right after that ("I feel like maybe we need to keep a closer eye on Widget after all this," Astro says) except she turns out to not be a little girl at all, because she's secretly a grown-up adult woman who's just pretending to be a little girl, which is crazy, and there's a really old black-and-white movie, too, about a guy who dresses up like his late mother to stab people to death in his murder motel.

"That's it," Astro declares, as the credits roll across the screen. "I'm never showering again."

"Airtight solution, SuperBoy," Cora nods sagely, before she turns her attention back to the TV. "Let's do Frankenstein next."

Zane frowns. "That's the one where the crazy scientist brings a guy back from the dead, right?"

"Sort of?" Cora shrugs, hitting a button on the remote to pull up the film in question. "He doesn't really bring a guy back from the dead, though. He just… makes a new guy out of dead people, basically."

Astro can't hold back a grimace. "Great. Thanks so much for that imagery, you guys."

Zane shoves him. "Don't wimp out on us, man. You literally talked down a bomber, like, two weeks ago. This is nothing."

"The bomber wasn't a zombie!"

Everybody quiets down when the movie begins, and for a little while, it's okay — the camera sweeps over a wintry landscape ("I thought this was supposed to be a Halloween flick," Zane mutters when he sees the snow, but Cora shuts him up by tossing a fistful of popcorn at him) and zooms in dramatically on a sad-looking man on a ship, staring wistfully out over an ice-choked ocean — but after a couple minutes, it gets… kind of uncomfortable. It's not really that scary, or anything, not like those other ones they just watched, and it's not a bad movie, either, but it's—it's just—there's just this scene, where the monster comes to life in the scientist's lab, and—

"I had worked hard for nearly two years," the narration says, calm and composed in stark contrast to the man on the screen, who's crying out in horror, shaking his head frantically, backing away from the table as his newborn creature rises up, "for the sole purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body. For this, I had deprived myself of rest and health. I had desired it with an ardor that far exceeded moderation. But now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and a breathless horror and disgust filled my heart. Oh! My hideous progeny! How I rue the moment you drew your first breath! How could anyone look upon you without revulsion? How could I ever have imagined my endeavor would produce anything of worth?"

Astro's stomach rolls over like he's going to throw up. He doesn't really know why, but there's something about this movie, or maybe just the man on the screen, that horrifies him more than any villain or criminal out on the streets ever could. My hideous progeny, he says. (a terrible mistake. just a machine. a failed experiment. a copy.) How could anyone look upon you without revulsion? he says. (I can't bear to see his face again.) How could I ever have imagined my endeavor would produce anything of worth? he says. (how did I think this could work?)

Astro blinks, shaking his head to try and shake off the sick feeling suddenly churning in his gut, and forces himself to refocus on the TV instead. It's only been a couple of hours since they started, after all, and he doesn't want to ruin his friends' night just because he doesn't like what they're watching. He got through all those other, much scarier, films just fine, so he's sure he can get through this one, too.

Except it just—it just keeps getting worse and worse and worse.

The monster has stitches all over his face from where Frankenstein sewed him together, and bolts coming out of his neck to hold his head on his shoulders. He looks different from everyone else — so different it scares them, so different it terrifies them, so different they scream at the sight of him, and send him away without ever giving him a chance, so different he can't fit in with anyone else no matter how hard he tries.

The monster is the only creature of his kind in the whole world.

The monster is all alone.

There is no one on earth like the monster. There is no one on earth who cares about the monster. Not even the man who made him.

Astro can't remember how to breathe, and his vision does this weird thing where it goes black at the edges like he's going to pass out, and it feels like maybe his heart is pounding faster than it usually does, which is a crazy thing for him to feel, because he doesn't even have a physical heart in the first place, and then he wonders if the monster has a physical heart and then he wonders if the monster has a name, or if that's another part of being human Frankenstein wouldn't let him have, and I can't bear to see his face again and how did I think this could work and I don't want you anymore—

He can't remember how to breathe. His hands are shaking, and his arms and legs are going numb, like all the blood is rushing from his limbs to flood into his chest instead, which is kind of crazy because he doesn't actually have any blood, and he wonders if the monster has blood and he wonders if the monster has bones and he wonders if any of that really matters when the monster has feelings, and that should be enough, and why isn't that enough? why isn't that enough for Frankenstein? why won't he just treat his creation like a person?

Zane says something, then, and Cora says something back, and they both laugh, but it's faint and faraway, like he's on the other side of the ocean, or maybe like he's in the ocean, drowning under the dark water. Cora shifts a little closer to him, her shoulder bumping lightly against his, and he can't remember how to breathe, and his hands are shaking and his arms and legs are going numb and he thinks, suddenly, about how Cora and Zane looked at him when they found out he was a robot — the horror and disgust in their eyes — and he realizes, with an awful jolt in the pit of his stomach, that the people in the cottage looked at the monster in the exact same way.

He thinks about how his dad looked at him, when he said you're not my son and I don't want you anymore, and he realizes, with a bigger and more awful jolt, that Frankenstein looked at his monster in the exact same way, hatred and revulsion and contempt written plainly in every line of his face, my hideous progeny a terrible mistake just a machine a failed experiment a copy not my son a robot how could anyone look upon you without revulsion I can't bear to see his face again how could I ever have imagined my endeavor would produce anything of worth how did I think this could work I don't want you anymore I don't want you anymore I don't want you anymore I don't want you I don't want you I don't want you I don't want you—

There's a ringing in his ears, a constant screeching wail, like tinnitus turned up to an eleven, and a terrible, crushing pressure in his chest that makes him wonder if maybe his heart is going to explode — except then he remembers he doesn't even have a heart, anyway, and maybe that's why it was so easy for Frankenstein to throw the monster away, because he knew the monster didn't have a heart, knew it wasn't human, and he can feel an awful pressure behind his eyes now, too, hot and heavy like a really bad headache. He hasn't felt this small since he lay down on a lab table and let his father kill him.

He wonders why Frankenstein couldn't just love the monster.

He wonders why he had to die just to get his dad to love him.

The pressure behind his eyes is getting worse, making the whole room look blurry and out of focus like a bad photograph, and it's stinging, and it's burning, and Astro—

—Astro starts to cry, so hard it actually kind of hurts, tears spilling down his cheeks and dripping off his chin and soaking into Cora's soft shag carpet. Loud, ugly sobs rip out of his throat before he can catch them, making his shoulders shake and shudder. Cora and Zane pause the movie and turn to stare at him, openmouthed and wide-eyed and wondering, and he thinks about how they looked at him when they found out he was a robot, and how the people in the cottage looked at the monster in the exact same way, and it just makes him cry even harder.

"A-Astro?" Cora says, finally, one hand hovering awkwardly above his shoulder like she can't decide whether she wants to touch him or not. "What's—What's wrong? What are you—?"

Astro tries to say I'm sorry, but there are so many things he's sorry for that it all kind of gets lost somewhere between his mind and his mouth, so he just sits there on Cora's carpet, sobbing and sniffling and scrubbing furiously at his eyes with the backs of his trembling hands to try and stem the endless flood of tears, and wondering if the monster can cry, or if that's another part of being human that Frankenstein wouldn't let him have. His arms and legs are going numb and his chest is aching and it feels like his heart is collapsing inside of him, a dying star buckling and bending under the weight of its own gravity and—

"W-Why didn't he want me?" he chokes out, his voice painfully small, and he wonders how many times the monster must've asked himself that same question, wonders if there was anything that the monster could have possibly done to make Frankenstein love him, and then he wonders how many times the monster must have wondered that, too. "Why didn't he want me? Why did he throw me away? Why did he make me just to throw me away? What's wrong with me?"

He wonders how many times the monster must've asked himself that same question, and he wonders how many times the monster must have lain awake at night in his dark and dirty hovel and waited waited waited for someone to love him, wonders how many times the monster must have called himself all the same horrible things his creator did, demon beast fiend villain hideous progeny a terrible mistake just a machine a failed experiment a copy not my son not my son not my son. He wonders if the monster's face is what his father sees whenever he looks at him — the waxy yellow-green corpse-skin stretched taut over rotted bones, the dull staring eyes, the terrifying towering stature, the shuffling limping gait, the bolts sticking out the sides of the neck, the lines of black X-shaped stitches threaded across the withered cheeks, the hunched slope of the deformed shoulders, the inherent wrongness of the whole shape — and then he wonders if maybe that's why his father said I can't bear to see his face again.

He wonders why his father had to make him like this.

He wonders why his father had to make him so different from everybody else.

He wonders why his father had to make him so difficult to love.

And then he wonders how many times the monster must have asked himself that same question, too.

"Tenma did that?" Cora says, at last, her blue eyes narrowed and her dark brow pulled down low in a scowl. "He did that to you?"

There's a cold fury in her tone, in her clenched teeth, in the tensed line of her jaw, and for a minute, Astro thinks it must be meant for him, that she must be mad at him — for ruining the movie, for crying all over her carpet, for making everything all about him, for whining about something that really isn't such a big deal after all, (and he knows that, he does, he knows he has no good reason to be acting like such a baby over this when his dad had it so much worse, because his dad lost his only son while he just got his feelings hurt, and he knows one of those things is not like the other, he knows that, and)—

—and then his brain finally catches up, and he realizes what she's actually saying, what she's actually mad about, and that's—that's almost worse, actually, because his dad doesn't deserve that. It's not like it's his fault that Astro couldn't be the son he wanted. It's not like it's his fault that Astro couldn't be a better Tobi. It's not like it's his fault Astro just isn't somebody other people can love without earning it first.

"H-He was going through a hard time when he made me," he quickly explains, so Cora and Zane won't get the wrong idea, so they know the truth, so they understand he's just overreacting like he always does. He has to make sure they understand that. He has to make sure they understand that his dad is a good person. He has to make sure they understand that his dad really was doing his best, and it's not his fault Astro couldn't be the son he wanted, not his fault Astro couldn't be a better Tobi, not his fault Astro just isn't somebody other people can love without earning it first, and if there's anyone who should take the blame in this whole messed-up situation, it's him, isn't it? It's his own fault he got thrown away like that, isn't it? Whose else could it be? "I—I mean, it was a really, really hard time for him. He was dealing with so much, and I was—I was just making it worse, I just kept making it worse, and he just—he just needed to get away from me for a while. You guys get that, right?"

The silence that comes after that is so heavy he thinks it's going to crush him. It's so heavy it's all he can hear. It's so heavy it presses in on him from all sides, so heavy he's scared to look at his friends just in case they're looking at him like those people in the cottage looked at the monster, so heavy he wonders if maybe he shouldn't have said that, so heavy he wonders if maybe he just made the kind of mistake he can't come back from, the kind of mistake that means their friendship is over, and they're going to send him away now like the people in the cottage sent the monster away—

"Jesus, Astro," Zane says, finally, breathless like somebody just came along and punched him in the stomach. "Jesus Christ, dude, that's… that's a lot. I-I don't even know where to start, man."

"Great, because I do," Cora jumps in all of a sudden, her voice knife-sharp and stone-hard. "Astro, it doesn't matter what your dad was going through when he made you. That's not an excuse. No, it is not," she adds, sharply, when he instinctively opens his mouth to argue with her. "And whatever made him decide to do that to you, it wasn't about you. It wasn't because you did anything wrong."

"But it was about me," Astro says, immediately — and so quiet, so serious, so honest, it takes him a second to realize he actually said it out loud instead of just thinking it. He's never needed to say it out loud before. Everyone else has always known it's true. "It was about me. If I had been better, he wouldn't have had to do that to me. If I had been better, he would've loved me right from the start."

"Is that," Cora asks, low and dangerous and so, so furious it seems to reverberate around the whole room, "what he told you?"

A tiny spark of—of something, too small for him to call anger but too big, and too close to fire, for him to call it anything else, flickers to sudden, diamond-bright life in his chest, and for the first time in their entire friendship, Astro meets her glare with one of his own, jaw clenching tight. "No, because he didn't have to tell me. It wasn't exactly rocket science! It only took a day for him to get sick of me! That kind of says something about a person, Cora, don't you think?"

There's a second of ringing silence right after he finally shuts his mouth, and he realizes he's standing up on his feet, glaring down at her — and she was scowling right back at him only a minute before, red in the face and madder than he'd ever seen her, but somewhere between one blink and the next, all her anger evaporated, and now she's gaping silently up at him with wide blue eyes, like he's just slapped her, or spit on her.

Astro has never raised his voice at her before. The guilt of it breaks over him like a wave of cold water, washing away the last, lingering spark of temper left in him. He wants to apologize, to say he didn't mean it, to promise he won't do it again, but he hasn't even opened his mouth before Cora pushes herself to her feet, too — though she doesn't look like she's gearing up for a fight, the way she did just a minute ago.

"No," she says, firmly. "It doesn't."

He's sure there must be some kind of context for that statement, but for the life of him, he can't figure out what it is. "W-What?"

"All that stuff your dad did to you," Cora says, her voice so strong and steady and sure he just can't help but listen to her. "You said it says something about a person, but it doesn't. It doesn't say anything about you. The things other people do to you, or say to you… that's on them, Astro. It doesn't matter who they are, or what they're going through, or if you think you could have done different, or been better, or whatever. It's still on them. They still decided to do what they did. You get that, don't you?"

Of course he gets that. Of course he knows people make their own choices, and they're responsible for their own actions, but… but his dad was going through a lot. And he was just making it worse. And his dad did need to get away from him for a little while. And it is hard for other people to be around him. And it hurt, obviously, of course it did, and it still hurts sometimes, when he lets himself think about it too long — like pressing on a bruise, or picking at a scab — but that doesn't make his dad a bad person, or a bad parent, the way Cora and Zane seem to think it does.

Besides, it's not like his dad was the only one who ever did anything like that, is it? Hamegg threw him away, too, once he found out he was a robot, Cora and Zane looked at him in the exact same way the people in the cottage looked at the monster, and sent him away like the people in the cottage sent the monster away, President Stone hunted him down like he was a criminal — and none of that makes them bad people. Hamegg was awful to his poor robots, of course, and there's no excuse for that, for the way he treated ZOG and the rest, but he still had some good in him, too, didn't he? He was always so kind to the other children in the orphanage, even if Astro wasn't one of them, and that… that says something about Astro, doesn't it? That says something about Astro, doesn't it, that he's the only kid Hamegg wasn't nice to? And Cora and Zane are the best friends he's ever had, and some of the best people he's ever met, so they're obviously not bad, either. And while President Stone wasn't exactly what he would call a good man, he commissioned the Peacekeeper specifically to keep the city safe from external threats. He might have been self-serving and power-hungry, and Astro isn't trying to say he wasn't, but he was never outright evil either, and he certainly wasn't the sort of person who'd attack an entire city full of innocent people over one single robot, not until Astro came along, and that says something about Astro, doesn't it? It says something about Astro, doesn't it, that his existence drove President Stone to the lengths it did?

It says something about Astro, doesn't it, that everyone he met in that first week of his life wanted to hurt him sooner or later?

"B-But," he says, trying his best to blink away another blinding tide of tears, but it doesn't work. "But what about Hamegg? And Stone? I—I mean… Stone went crazy just because I existed, a-and Hamegg was—"

Cora lets out a little sigh, soft and sad, and then, before he can say anything else, she reaches out and pulls him into a tight hug. "No, Astro, that wasn't your fault. None of that was your fault. I don't know why anyone would choose to do the kinds of things they did to you, because it was really, really messed up, and you deserve so much better, but I do know it wasn't your fault. You can't make somebody love you or not love you. You can't make somebody treat you one way or another. That's not up to you. They made their own decisions, and there isn't anything you could have done to change their minds."

"Yeah, man," Zane gets up from the floor, too, brushing a few stray popcorn kernels off the front of his sweatshirt, and comes over to join them. "There's no way you could have made that president guy any more whacked than he already was, trust me. And your dad…" he goes quiet for a second, shaking his head. "No offense, dude, but thinking you did something wrong is a pretty crazy to look at it. I mean, you don't think I made my parents ditch me, do you?"

"N-No," Astro says at once, even though he's pretty sure it's a joke. "Of course not. You were just a baby."

"Yeah," Zane says, very softly, putting a hand on Astro's shoulder. "So were you."

Oh.

Astro has never thought about it like that before.

Of course he knows that, technically, he was only a day old when his dad threw him away and President Stone tried to kill him, and seven days old when Hamegg put him in that arena. Of course he knows that, technically, he did fit the definition of baby back then, if only in the loosest sense of the term: still learning everything that other people already knew, brand-new to the world and clueless about all of it, stumbling blindly through his first steps and first breaths, and behaving purely on instinct instead of experience, because instinct was the only thing he knew. Of course he knows that. Of course he knows all of that.

But, for the first time in his life, he feels the faintest touch of sympathy for the small, young, scared-to-death, day-old boy he used to be. For the first time in his life, he tries to imagine hurting somebody as small and young as he was, in the ways his dad and Hamegg and Stone hurt him, and it makes him feel sick enough to throw up — and his dad and Hamegg and Stone were all even older then than he is right now. He can't imagine being a full-grown adult, and hurting somebody smaller than him like that. He can't imagine being a full-grown adult, and saying the kinds of things to a kid that his dad said to him.

"Oh," Astro says, out loud this time, because he's too dazed to come up with anything else — which is probably a good thing, because his throat pulls too tight to talk after that, anyway, and his eyes fill up with a fresh swell of stinging tears, and the tears spill over and pour down his cheeks.

Cora gently tugs him back into her arms again, and Zane keeps one hand on his shoulder while he cries, firm and warm and steady, and he doesn't know how long he stands there, clinging onto them like a lifeline as seven months of sadness floods out of him, but he knows they don't move an inch until he does, pulling away to scrub at his face and dry his still-damp eyes on his sleeve. His hands are still trembling, but not as bad as before, and his arms and legs aren't numb anymore, either. And he feels… lighter, almost. Like he's been carrying something very heavy for a very long time, and he's only just now put it down.

"I'm sorry," he says, finally — and a little shakily, too, but far calmer than he felt even ten minutes ago. "I—I'm really, really sorry about that. I didn't mean to r-ruin the movie. I just—"

"Astro," Cora cuts him off, so dead serious he immediately quiets down to hear her out. "If you seriously try and apologize right now, I'm actually going to hit you."

He's pretty sure that's an empty threat, but he doesn't particularly want to take his chances, either. He's seen what she can do with a wrench, after all.

"Also, you didn't ruin the movie," Zane jumps in, before the silence can settle over them too heavily, as he picks up the remote off the floor and clicks the television off with a pop. "That movie ruined itself. Man, that was like watching paint dry. Total snooze-fest. Let's do something fun instead." He pauses for a second. "You guys want to see how many jack-o-lanterns we can carve before your parents get home? Grace and I are still trying to break the world record, you know."

Astro knows exactly what Zane is trying to do — distract him from his feelings and steer him in an entirely different direction, pull him out of his own head and keep him out of his own head, keep him away from the hundred thousand conflicting thoughts and emotions and doubts still swirling around inside him like the world's worst tornado — but he plays along, anyway, because he doesn't want his friends to worry about him. And besides, a distraction sounds really, really nice right now. "What even is the world record, anyway?"

"Thirty thousand," Cora says, wearily, like she's heard the answer to this question way too many times before.

"And how many have you carved this year?"

Zane has to think about it for a minute. "…Twenty-two."

A small, startled laugh tumbles from Astro's mouth, a surprise even to him, and he pretends not to notice the quick, hopeful glance Cora and Zane exchange when he does. "Okay, yeah," he says. "Let's do it."

"Yes!" Zane punches the air over his head in a victorious fist-pump. "Come on, guys! Only twenty-nine thousand, nine hundred, and seventy-eight left to go!"

Cora groans.

[blossoms-phan]

dan reading the skinfic out loud in the first tumblr tag video is legit one of my favourite moments ever

[rayesofsunlight]

hey, little songbird (a farcille fic)

(spoilers ahead)

Marcille realised, as she held Pipi’s fragile body in her palm, that things would never be the same; that she would never be the same. She stroked those beautiful yellow feathers one last time, and though they were as silky as ever, those sweet chirps of contentment that she used to hear daily were but all but echoes in her mind. All that was left behind was an empty vessel of her avian soul. 

Answer me, she wanted to beg. Just let me see you fly one last time, away from here, away from my sight, so I needn’t mourn, so that my heart will stop aching the way it is right now. 

But the words never parted from her tongue, and nothing but choked sobs erupted from her quivering lips. Even as her mother’s warm arms embraced her entire frame, even as sat down to eat her favourite meal of grilled pork, even as she lay in bed that night wrapped in her soft duvets. 

Unfair, unfair! Why did life go on, even without her beloved bird? Why was it that the world continued turning, and that her life would carry on far longer than Pipi’s, far longer than her friends’, far longer than all the humans she ever loved? 

Tears continued to spill from her eyes and onto her pillowcase, almost as if she hoped that if she poured enough of herself into them, the gaping hole in her heart, and the empty space in Pipi’s cage could be filled once again.

—

“Marcille, Marcille,” a soft voice roused the girl from her uneasy slumber, and gentle hands shook her awake. She blinked sleepily and rubbed the bleary remnants of her dreams from her eyes, and instinctively reached out to grab the sleeve of the one who woke her. She raised her gaze to meet Falin’s and her breath caught in her throat as her mind grasped how close they were; her short blonde hair brushed against Marcille’s shoulder, and she could almost feel her breath against her cheek.  

“Falin?” she whispered, praying that the dark would veil the growing warmth in her cheeks from her classmate. She mentally shook herself, her grip on Falin’s sleeve loosening. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“I’m sorry for waking you,” Falin immediately apologised in a hushed tone. Marcille could see her head hanging in apology, and found herself smiling in exasperated fondness as she pet her friend’s head. 

“Shhh, it’s alright,” she combed her hand through Falin’s locks, letting her hands linger for just a moment before dropping them back into her lap. “I was just worried, that’s all.” 

Falin fell silent for a moment, and Marcille felt warm fingers slipping through hers, and a thumb brushing against her palm. “Could I sleep here with you, just for tonight?” 

Marcille nodded without so much as missing a beat as she scooted over to make space.  

Once Falin had laid down next to her, Marcille used her free hand to cocoon the both of them under her blanket, still holding onto her hand with her other. All that cut through the night’s silence was the sound of their breathing, slowly falling into rhythm with one another. 

“Are you comfortable?” Marcille asked. The question transcended their new sleeping arrangement; it was one that made Marcille feel more bare and vulnerable than ever, in spite of the sleeping garments she donned, and the blankets that kept her safe from the cold’s embrace.

She could almost see those apple-red cheeks bunching into a smile sweeter than honey as Falin replied, “I always have been, with you.” 

An ache etched itself into Marcille’s chest, one that felt both familiar and not; it was as if she’d felt this way about Falin all her life, even before she knew her, even before either of them existed. 

That was the first of many nights they’d spend lying together, sharing secrets, spells and stories, and letting their hushed voices weave into the darkness of the night, making everything feel lighter than it’d been before. 

—

Marcille’s hands shook as they grazed against pure, white feathers - whether it was in awe, fear or anticipation, she wasn’t sure anymore. She lifted her head, her heart hammering against her chest as she gulped. 

“Falin,” she whispered, as if it were just another one of those nights back in the academy dorms. Feathers ruffled, and sharp amber eyes met her tired sage ones. “You’re home.” 

[justamessedupdisneyprincess]

SHORT ONWARD FANFIC

Lost in the Labyrinth Mall (an Izzyley story)

This is a fluffy slice of life sort of short fic with bits of comedy here and there and perhaps a bit of an adventure as well.

Part 1

Barley had always been wild and reckless. Because of this it wasn’t terribly uncommon for him to ruin his clothes during his little adventures. He may have some keen sense of style but overall he did not care much for fashion. If he felt comfortable and looked cool it was enough. It wouldn’t worry him if he wore the same outfit when going out or if there was a little hole here and there. Although those holes can grow…and the already torn thread can tear further apart. He had quite a few shirts that had very obviously seen better days.

One morning he walked out wearing a simple black shirt with a battle axe on it…or what was left of it. There was a rip so large that the bottom of his right pec could be seen! The remains of the fabric blanked around his body but there were very huge holes scattered across. He wore this during one of his “testimonies” against old facilities being torn down and ancient treasures being mistreated.

Laurel’s eyes shot wide when she saw what her oldest son was wearing. It definitely wasn’t that bad last time he wore it, each wash seems to make it worse. “Barley what in the world are you wearing?!” She cried out.

Barley looked a bit confused at first before looking down at himself. “My awesome old battle axe shirt and some jeans?” He says, sounding confused.

Laurel sighs. “Barley, that shirt is unwearable now. You’ll have to throw it out.”

“Throw it out? But I like this shirt!” Barley whined as he lightly pulled at it.

Despite how he made it clear he still saw some value to it, Laurel remained stern. “Barley. It is covered in holes and is all torn up! It makes you look like a homeless person. Worse than that it makes it look like I never take care of you.”

Barley chuckled a bit as he examined the wounds in his wear. “Oh but this adds to the style, mother! A few tears here and there make it look all the more metal. You wouldn’t understand. It’s a whole other level of fashion.” Barley says this jokingly but immediately regretted it after seeing his mother’s horrifying glare. He swallowed a bit as he prepared for the scolding. To his surprise though she managed to calm herself before the storm had hit him. It seemed like an idea popped into her head.

“Well then if you care about fashion so much you should go shopping for some new clothes.” Laurel says. This may seem like an exciting proposal to some but to him it sounded like a chore. He would rather go on another adventure! Not to wonder around looking at clothes all day. He seemed quite taken aback by that response.

“Wha? But I don’t need any.” He says after a pause.

“Yes you do.” Laurel replied with a stern look.

Barley groaned, he loathed the idea of having to go shopping with his mother. He had feared that if he doesn’t go himself then she will watch him like a hawk the entire time they are there. That will take the fun out of everything. “Alright, alright. Fine I will venture into the labyrinth mall and pick up some new clothes.” He had hoped that this would be the end of the conversation. At least if he manages to go himself he can indulge himself in other activities.

“And NO trying to look for ancient treasure.” Laurel added. Barley looked absolutely baffled.

“But MOM! It’s THE labyrinth! Not just A labyrinth but THE labyrinth of ALL labyrinths! Who knows what other secrets could still be buried-“ as passionate as he was, he noticed the look in his mother’s eye. Grown up or not she was still NOT afraid to ground him if need be. “Alright, fine. I will go shopping for some clothes and only some clothes.” He says with a defeated groans. A mischievous thought in the back of his mind. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Laurel however was on to him. “Then we will go together tomorrow morning.”

Barley felt his heart sink. It would just be hours of agony for him! Clothing store after clothing store for hours on end?! “Uh- that won’t be necessary mother! You can totally trust me, y’know!” Barley cried out. “Don’t ya wanna…y’know…take it easy?”

Laurel once again knew exactly what was going through Barley’s head. “Really? To me it just sounds like you’re trying to get me out of the picture so you can sneak off and get into more trouble.”

Barley pouts a bit, he tried so hard to think of some other excuse. Then finally he thought of something. Or rather…someone. She wouldn’t even trust Ian to monitor him due to his timid nature. She wouldn’t let Barley wonder with a friend who has a knack for getting into trouble. But there was a part of Laurel that was a hopeless romantic…maybe…he can convince her to bring his girlfriend along instead. “Actually- I was kinda thinking…it MIGHT actually NOT be so boring if I go shopping with Izzy.” Barley says.

Barley can tell that she was already considering on allowing it. Her expression did not change much but he noticed the subtle signs in her body language. Izzy had also been able to get Barley out of trouble a few times. She was a loving girlfriend but she is the type to tie Barley to a chair and lock him in a cellar if it meant it would keep him from doing something so reckless that it may hurt himself. Although she didn’t mind a bit of mischief here and there but that was something Laurel did not know about at the time. For Izzy it all came down to morals and the well being of her loved ones. Chaotic and curious yet cautious and anxious she was like an odd combination between the two brothers themselves. “Well…I suppose when your father and I were still young we did go shopping together before… I trust she will make sure you won’t get into any trouble.” Laurel says.

Barley looked shocked as she mentioned the word trouble. She always assumed he was in it before he even started to do anything…which was not entirely incorrect as he does tend to be rash. “Hey! You’re supposed to say “It would be such an awesome date” or “You two have fun”!” Barley says, sounding the tiniest bit offended.

Laurel knew her son well though. She knew he was desperate to try and do things other than simply pick up clothes, things that were dangerous and reckless. She knew he was merely trying to find a way to escape her watchful eye. Although she knew all this she did remain calm, calm yet firm. “And I’m sure it would be an awesome date and that she would love to tell me all about it after. But Barley… if I hear any word of you weaselling your way out of this or getting into any trouble you’ll be doing every single chore around the house for a month.”

Barley groaned a bit as he crossed his arms. Frustrated to begin with before he began to think of ways to work around this. ‘No matter…I will just simply tell Izzy not to share any details with her.’

Yet again, it was as if his mother can read his mind. “Oh, and don’t think that Izzy won’t tell me if you’ve misbehaved. She wants you to stay safe and to learn to take better care of yourself just like the rest of us.”

Barley sighs, he was more than just a little annoyed by now. “Yeah, yeah.” He says.

“I think you’ll find you will enjoy it more than you think though, dear. You have fun.” Laurel says as she walks off. Her smile was sweet and friendly in spite of how agitated Barley felt. She gave him a little pat on the shoulder as she wondered past him.

[velociheroviridi]

just finished rewatching all of Danny Phantom so now I get to read A Glitch in Time for the first time! So excited (also it's a lot thicker of a novel than I was expecting)

[variousqueerthings]

I think it's also interesting to see how things change depending on the time in which they're being engaged with. so I see things about rose today that point out that she's written to be 19 when she meets the doctor and that's a big age difference (which... I understand the point is it's a big age difference because billie piper was 23 and eccleston was 40, and then dtennant was like 34/35 when he started which isn't so big of a shift but anyway the optics I get what people are getting at, but also I think it does oversimplify a lot of what's actually going on in the written dynamic, anyway-)

and also that the rtd run's Themes start coming together properly around s3 (although they are present from day one), and in some ways at this point, because nu!who has been running for... fuckn. actually quite a few years, which is wild to me as someone who started watching as a kid, and I wonder if classic!who fans felt the same way about their show and anyway -- she shifts from being Literally The First Companion You'd Seen For 17 Years (not counting the movie and fan things and the sketch) Who Was Defining A New Era For A New Generation to... a companion

comparable to other companions, comparable to the rest of the show

we sift through the writing to see what worked and what didn't (in our opinion), and we know how the ten-and-rose storyline Really ends, and how the ten storyline ends (sort, of because now that doctor and donna are Back), and we know what happens afterwards, and we talk about tenrose with a 2020s eye, and rose is "just" one of the people that travels with the doctor, one of several, and notably the one who gets most of the sunshiney doctor that buries a lot of the (wonderfully portrayed) angst of the latter half of the rtd show, and doesn't have as much lore as everything after that, so the story is "just" more simple overall

and to me she's kind of incapable of being just that. doctor who was still a risk that first season, it wasn't a done deal that it would have legs at all, never mind that it would continue for as long as it has. rose was created to be the Face of what nu!who was, moreso than nine/eccleston, because even with the extra angst and the eccleston gravitas, we know the doctor, the doctor is established, it's not actually the doctor that needs to sell what the new show is going to become and what the Feel of that new show is going to be (I mean, partly ofc, but-)

rose was doing so much heavy lifting and she succeeded! she was the face of who before dtennant or any other doctor or companion of his era and subsequent eras. she was created to appeal to a demographic of girls who wanted someone relatable in science fiction, because rtd wanted this to be for the girls, and billie piper came into it off the back of being a popstar and it changed her entire trajectory (for the better I think/hope -- there's a lot of bad shit in billie piper's past and I'm always sending her a fond thought)

nine/ten-and-rose were It! not calling it romantic or platonic or any secret third thing (haunting the narrative), but simply It! that's why it has so much staying power as a ship (which, my opinion on shipping has been somewhat *eh shrug* in later years, but in early-days when that was how you engaged with dynamics that got to you, of course it was going to be massive). it's so hard to properly describe how "for the time in which it was made" that this dynamic was written for, and how successful it was. it was rose that breathed doctor who -- and the doctor's character -- to life, as much as herself

she sets the stage for everything that comes next, both within and without the show proper

and I'm always so pleased that rtd at the time was thinking about what was needed to create this character and he opened with a shot from a girl on the estate with messy hair, clumpy eyeliner, and a minimum wage job, and went "that's the girl who's going to go on the adventure of a lifetime, that's the girl we're seeing the story through and relating to, because that's what girls (and uh... those who were girls at the time - and their parents and the boys) should be seeing."

I know rose isn't the first working class companion including classic!who, but she set the tone for nu!who and her family and background are important to why she is who she is, and is explored

"I've got no A-levels, no job, no future-" said the girl about to see the universe

she was very much for teenagers, and so she reads differently when you're an adult watching it back (much like those "teenager saves the world," novels you loved as a kid), but that's why she's 19 at the beginning. that's why she's billie piper (who does a perfect job). she was there to bring a new generation into this story, and it was perfect. and then she grows up. and we grew up. and she had adventures and it was brilliant and she survived and she made a life for herself. that's her story

[cuephrase]

i have like so so so many comics i desperately want to read AND YET, the urge to re-read tim's og robin run + young justice + red robin is so strong like ??? i am genuinely torn.

[vadlings]

the memories of the boy i’ve been (801 words) by vadlings

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ethan Frye & Jacob Frye, Evie Frye & Jacob Frye, Ethan Frye & Evie Frye & Jacob Frye Characters: Jacob Frye, Ethan Frye, Evie Frye Additional Tags: Character Study, Emotional Baggage, Bad Parenting, Family, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Jacob Frye Has ADHD

Summary:

Before Ethan, it had been just him, Evie, and their grandmother. Obviously they’d competed, but nothing like they did later on, when every word of praise to Evie and look of disapproval to Jacob felt like the driving force of the rift growing fast between them.

[shurisneakers]

Hi sexy I love you

HEY SEXY I LOVE YOU TOO