Chapter One, Part FourMature

Yes, Breasts.                         

Curves are where they shouldn’t be, now. 


 She’s wearing a white body corset, and right between the barely-there jugs, a big heart, with ribbons. Reddish boots... short red flowing skirt, a ridiculousness of pulled back blonde hair, set back on the head in pony-dangling meatballs the size of small planets. 

There is, she suddenly gathers, an obscene desire to make up her face, then spin round in a circle and squeal. 

The TARDIS door creaks open to reveal another blue-eyed man in a blue shirt, red suspenders and an army coat of lovely long length. Jack Harkness. His hand is in some woman’s... her sleeve is black. There seems to be an inordinate mass of hair in a beehive on her head... Morgana. 

Merlin sniffs and tries to smile. 

“Hey Ushas, is that Jack’s gun or are you happy to see me?” 

Jack stares at Morgana. He looks back at Merlin. 

He stares at Morgana a second time, scratching his hair. 

A grin erupts over his entire frame, shaking him out like... well, pretty much anyone who tromps about on children’s telly in a brightly-colored body suit. 

 The Time Agent then takes a breath with the entirety of his upper chest, trying to compose himself, then sweeps his brown hair back from his head and falls to the ground, a single phrase glued to his face and his lips. 




The End

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