#Jo's line about the time lords

[jenevawashere]

That moment when your favorite 11th Doctor episode isn't even in Doctor Who...

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [24] - Geraniums

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Inspiration can strike at midnight.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions and descriptions of domestic violence, injuries and trauma. 

Word Count: 3400

Series Masterlist

Playing the madly in love couple in public had never been challenging so far, so it was quite surprising that the mask was slipping.

You had a feeling that it was mostly because of you though.

For the past week, you had managed to keep your interaction with Benedict to a minimum even though it felt incredibly hard. Whenever you saw him in the hallway or you two went to your separate rooms, you were filled with this powerful urge to talk to him, but after that duel you weren’t so sure you could.

Though, there was no denying it. You missed him terribly.

Benedict on the other hand was respecting your wishes and giving you the space you wanted. Though you two pretended as if nothing was wrong in public, the usual displays of affection were not there, no doubt because he didn’t want to cross the line you drew between you two.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” Felix asked you while he sketched beside you under the tree you were leaning your back against. Charlotte had asked both you and Benedict to join her on a picnic but Anthony had spent no time to whisk her away, and Benedict was busy talking with his artist friends so you had excused yourself to read a book in the shadow of a tree, Felix soon joining you to sketch the view in a peaceful corner.

“Absolutely,” you said. “Why do you ask?”

Felix shrugged before tilting his head. “Is that your brother-in-law?”

You turned your head, then raised a hand in the air so that Andrew could see you, a smile lighting up his face immediately.

“This is a lovely surprise,” he said as he threw himself next to you. “Clover. Felix.”

“Andrew,” Felix said with a smile and you held back a grin upon hearing the first name basis.

“What are you doing here?” you asked and he motioned at the entrance of the park.

“Oh I had this business with an incredibly boring lord about—it doesn’t matter,” he said. “How about you? Is Jo around as well?”

“Mm hm, she and Bess decided to take a walk around the park,” you said and he grinned.

“They do love their walks.”

You shot him a mischievous glance and he looked inside the picnic basket.

“No cookies this time?”

“My reaction exactly,” Felix said and Andrew tut-tutted.

“You play with our feelings, Y/N.”

“I’m just sitting here doing nothing,” you deadpanned, turning your gaze to Benedict at the moment he stole a glance at you, and you both looked elsewhere at the same time. Felix raised his brows and Andrew looked between you.

“Oh something happened.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Nothing happened, you both are being nonsense—” you started but got distracted the moment your looked at Benedict again who was just approached by Lady Margery. That bitter taste climbed up your throat as you gritted your teeth, but then forced yourself to turn back to your book.

“Oh it’s a jealousy issue,” Andrew pointed out and turned to Felix while your eyes widened. “That settles it.”

“It’s not a jealousy issue!”

“Of Lady Margery?” Felix asked Andrew who nodded solemnly.

“Seems like it, is that her name?”

“I’m sitting right here,” you grumbled, turning to glare at Andrew who rolled his eyes at you.

“You were a scrawny little thing when I first met you, that glare doesn’t work on me.”

“You might be the only person in the ton who doesn’t get intimidated by her.” Felix pointed out and Andrew chuckled.

“I built up an immunity.”

“Great, I’m still waiting for that day.”

“Oh you need to put in years before that happens.”

You shook your head slightly and kept your gaze on the book.

“Who is Lady Margery?” Andrew asked Felix who took a deep breath.

“She’s a very wealthy widow,” he said. “A lover of arts and the last I heard, she likes Benedict’s works.”

“Where did she see his works?” You couldn’t help but ask and Felix shrugged.

“At a party, I’m told,” he said. “Either that or Henry showed her.”

“Benedict is in love with you though, don’t feel threatened.”

“I do not feel threatened by her,” you deadpanned, still trying to ignore that burning in your throat. “A lot of people admire Benedict’s works.”

“Not all of them look like that though,” Andrew mused and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Not as pretty as you, obviously!”

You huffed out and closed your book as soon as you caught the sight of Josie and Bess. “I’ll get some fresh air.”

“We’re sitting outside, Y/N.”

“Fine, then I’ll go and join Bess and Josie,” you said. “They’re over there.”

“Clover—”

“I’m fine,” you said as you stood up, painfully aware of Benedict’s gaze immediately turning to you. “Really. I just need to stretch my legs, I’ve been sitting here for way too long.”

You walked away from them, ignoring the way Benedict’s eyes were following you as you passed through the garden to make your way to Bess and Josie.

                                                   *

The dinner was quiet at first and you weren’t particularly hungry, so you kept playing with the food on your plate, pushing at it with your fork, trying your hardest not to look at Benedict even if you could feel him stealing looks at you.

He took a deep breath when you pushed at your plate, ready to retrieve to your bedroom but before you could stand up, he cleared his throat.

“Y/N?”

You looked up at him. “Hm?”

“I was going to tell you,” he said. “My mother invited us for dinner this weekend.”

“Oh?” you said. “Sure. What brought that on?”

He grimaced, making you bite back a smile.

“She wants the family to have dinner with Charlie’s family,” he muttered. “Which would have been fine if it were for any reason other than…you know.”

“Lottie and Anthony courting?”

He let out a noise of discontent and nodded his head. “That.”

“Will you be alright?” you asked. “During that dinner?”

He thought for a moment.

“…Uh huh.”

You raised your brows. “Very convincing.”

“It’s just—” he motioned with his hand. “Charlie and him?”

“It’s been almost a week since they started courting each other, how are you still so shocked about this?”

“Neither of them told me.”

“I wonder how that feels,” you pointed out and he scrunched up his nose, making you bite down on your lip.

“Walked right into that one.”

“Kind of like walking into a duel,” you mused and he nodded.

“Mm hm, kind of like that,” he said and his head shot up. “Which reminds me, I have something for you.”

You pulled your brows together in confusion.

“What?” you asked as he got up from his chair to come closer to you, then pulled the chair near you to sit down. He reached into the inner pocket of his waistcoat, then pulled out a tiny bag to put it on the table, making your frown deeper.  

“What is this?”

“It’s a gift,” he said, crossing his arms over the table so that you would see he wouldn’t pull the gift out of your reach. “Along with my heartfelt apologies and promise to not keep things from you.”

You stole a look at him, then slowly reached out to take the small bag. You untied it and turned it over, then blinked a couple of times when you saw the tiny seeds falling into your palm.

“Benedict—?”

“Geranium seeds,” Benedict said. “I figured maybe you’d want to plant them.”

Your eyes found his, your heart skipping a beat.

“And I’ve been told geraniums represent foolishness,” he added with a small grin. “Considering my actions of late…”

A small giggle escaped from your lips and you ran your fingertip over the seeds.

“But I haven’t been gardening lately.”

“I know,” he said. “They can grow in a vase as well, did you know that?”

Your jaw dropped, a laughter climbing up your throat.

“Wow, really?”

“Mm hm,” he said, that proud smile playing on his lips before his gaze turned soft. “So until you want to put it in the garden, it can be in your room in a vase. If that’ll be more comfortable for you.”

He was giving you a way to garden and making sure you knew he couldn’t take it from you.

That familiar warmth spread through your chest as you put the seeds back into the small bag, and carefully tied it up before turning to look at him.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, “Really, Benedict. It means a lot.”

He shot you that lopsided grin and you held up your pinky.

“Truce?”

He raised his brows, then hooked his pinky with yours.

“Truce,” he said, tugging at your finger with his before pulling his hand back. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Who told you where to get geranium seeds?”

“Lady Margery,” he said, making you raise your brows but he looked nearly oblivious to your reaction. “You two have a lot in common, she likes flowers as well. She was telling me about it today—she also has a garden, apparently. Invited us for dinner whenever we’re available.”

“Did she now?” you asked, trying to ignore that bitterness in your throat. “Interesting.”

“You would get along well with her I think.”

“I doubt that,” you murmured and he tilted his head.

“Why?”

“Just a feeling,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, and cleared your throat. “Speaking of gardens, I think I want to take a walk in ours and get some fresh air before bed.”

“Oh,” he said. “Alright. Do you—?”

You shook your head and pushed your chair back to stand up. “No worries. I’ll just walk around, that’s all. It’ll help me sleep better.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Mm hm, enjoy your meal!” you said and walked out of the dining room, still holding the small bag tight in your hand, a smile curling your lips once again.

                                              *

The interesting thing about your nightmares was that they had changed quite a bit after you had found out that Benedict had gone on a duel. Contrary to before, now your night terrors were about his death, getting shot in the duel, bleeding out in that field—

A gasp got caught in your throat as your eyes snapped open into the dark room, and you blinked a couple of times before wiping up the cold sweat off your forehead, realizing just how freezing the room was. Contrary to the pleasant weather from earlier, the warmth was replaced by the cold as soon as the night fell, and not only you had told the maids they didn’t have to start a fire in the fireplace, you had also left the window open as you went to bed.

You pushed the covers off of you and got up from the bed, now realizing you had no idea where the matches were because you hadn’t had to do anything related to fireplace ever since you had moved into this house. The familiar ache in your wrist that came back whenever it was cold made you grimace and you closed the window, rubbing at your arms. You thought for a moment, then walked to the door to peek your head out, the faint light at the end of the hallway catching your attention immediately.

Benedict’s studio.

Well, that room had to be warm.

You lingered at your doorstep only for a moment before you left your room, then made your way down the hallway to reach the studio to find Benedict sketching by the fireplace. Your heart skipped a beat at how effortlessly handsome he looked, and you knocked on the doorframe, making his head shoot up.

“Y/N?”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all, come in,” he said, motioning at the other armchair across from the fireplace and you smiled at him, then sat down on the armchair.

“Nightmares again?”

You stole a look at him, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Just cold,” you said, holding out your wrist so that you could feel the warmth of the flames in the fireplace just so that the throbbing would ease a little. Benedict’s gaze fell on you as you turned your wrist, clenching and unclenching your hands. “What are you drawing?”

“Hm? Oh—” Benedict snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at the sketchbook before looking up at you. “Just some practice, that’s all.”

“Can I see it?”

He thought for a moment, then made a face. “You don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s you.”

You raised your brows, your stomach doing a happy flip.

“The sketch?”

He nodded his head and you arched a brow.

“I don’t want to see it or you don’t want me to want to see it?” you asked and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not sure it’s good.”

“Can I be the judge of that?”

“Will you spare my feelings?”

“Absolutely, because I walk around sparing people’s feelings,” you retorted, holding out your hand. “Come on.”

He heaved a sigh, then handed you the sketchbook, making you giggle before you turned your gaze to the page.

Oh.

The sketch was so beautiful that for a moment you couldn’t help but stare at it, your mouth slightly open. It was a sketch of you from today, when you were sitting under the tree with a book in your lap, surrounded by beautiful flowers-

When you thought he was busy with Lady Margery.

Benedict’s voice pulled you out of your daze; “It’s that terrible huh?”

You looked up at him in disbelief, then shook your head.

“I was thinking the opposite actually,” you managed to say, turning your glances to the page again. “It’s just…”

“Tell me,” he said when you fell quiet and you licked your lips, then shook your head again.

“You drew me prettier than I actually am,” you mumbled, still admiring the sketch in front of you but you saw him tilt his head out of the corner of your eye.

“What?”

You shot him a small smile, then handed him the sketchbook back.

“It’s beautiful,” you said. “Too beautiful.”

Benedict let out a small chuckle, his gaze soft on you.

“Nothing I draw or paint comes close to how beautiful you are, you do realize that?” he asked, a fire spreading on your face. “That’s why I keep thinking it’s not good enough. It’s nowhere near a reflection, merely a shadow.”

It felt as if your heart was trying to escape from your ribcage with how fast it was beating and you felt a smile warm your face, then shot him a look.

“Well then I’m afraid I have no criticism for you,” you said, making him clutch at his chest.

“Oh no.”

“Mm hm,” you said. “Just what every artist hates. No criticism, only admiration.”

“You have no idea,” he played along and you giggled, holding your wrist closer to the fireplace again to feel the warmth on your skin, even in your bones. He watched you in silence for a couple of seconds, then took a deep breath.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not normally but cold makes it ache,” you said. “It should go away soon.”

“How did you break it?”

Your stomach did a painful flip and you bit inside your cheek, pursing your lips.

“That’s not important information,” you said, your voice completely flat and he paused for a moment, then nodded.

“Still don’t trust me huh?” he said with a small smile as you pulled your gaze off the fire to steal a look at him.

“Benedict—”

“It’s alright,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

A silence fell upon you both and you could feel the nervousness filling your system, but you managed to ignore it as you cleared your throat.

“It wasn’t…” you trailed off. “Peaceful. Back home, before my uncle took me in.”

He pulled his brows together in confusion as if he couldn’t understand how it was relevant and you turned your wrist again, still holding it to the fireplace.

“My parents were very different than yours, or my uncle and aunt,” the words left your lips very easily. “We could never tell when it was going to get bad because most of the time there wasn’t even an actual reason behind it, my father was always angry and my mother wasn’t any better than him, they just had different ways of discipline and punishment.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him pulling back but you didn’t turn to look at him, keeping your eyes on the fireplace.

“Josie got the worst of it, mostly,” you muttered. “She always got in the way to protect me no matter what and like I said, they had different ways, my mother would mostly just slap us or push us around, but my father…” You let out a bitter laugh. “My father was the type of person who would only stop beating the hell out of you when he decided it was enough, regardless of how much you cried—not that Josie ever really cried. I used to, but I learned to stop myself after a while.”

The memory hit you and you shook your head slightly, trying to focus.

“Anyway, there was this one time he got really mad at Josie and he was drunk, and in all that pushing and pulling this bottle got broken, and he had this…this idea to cut her hand with it so that she would ‘learn some respect’,” you quoted him, the words giving you goosebumps even now. “But my mother stopped him, saying it would ruin Josie’s chances to get married if he left any actual scars that her potential suitors could see, making her—what was the term?” you asked more to yourself and scoffed. “Damaged goods, she said.”

Benedict could only stare at you in silence.

“I was very young when it happened, so in my mind I figured that if I had an actual scar, then no one would want to marry me and no one could put me through what my father put my mother through,” you said. “But the problem was that I didn’t have any, so that night after everyone went to bed, I went to the kitchen to give myself one.”

The crackles of the wood in the fireplace echoed through the room, making you heave a sigh.

“I couldn’t really do it though, because it hurt way worse than I thought it would,” you added. “I stopped before I could push the knife deeper or drag it down, but my mother walked in the kitchen and saw me doing that.”

You could feel the tears burning your eyes and you blinked a couple of times to push them back.

“I begged her not to tell my father but of course she did, and father was absolutely furious,” you said. “He yelled at me, then shoved me headfirst into the wall and I hit my head very hard. And the thing about hitting your head is that you can’t really find your balance when it happens, so I tripped backwards and fell right on my wrist.”

For a second, the only thing you could hear was the burning wood and you shrugged your shoulders, then retrieved your hand and turned to look at him.

“That’s how I broke it.”

He looked nearly frozen, staring at you in complete silence as he blinked a couple of times like he was trying to wrap his mind around what you had told him. He gritted his teeth, that fire coming to life in his eyes and he opened his mouth but you stopped him before he could say anything.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t need anyone to do that, I hate that nonsense. I’m fine, that’s not why I…”

You trailed off for a moment before you took a deep breath, your eyes locking in his.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you Ben,” you rasped out, then offered him a small smile and got up from the chair. “That’s the moral of this story.”

“Y/N—”

“Good luck with your sketches,” you said, nodding at the notebook in his lap. “Being immortalized sounds rather lovely now to think of it. Keep drawing me prettier than I am, will you?”

With that, you walked out of the room, your heart still beating in your ears. 

Chapter 25

[corallapis]

‘wait, it’s all the master?’ ‘always has been’: or, So Why Do People Think the War Chief & the Master Are the Same Character, Anyway?

hello, it is i, sebastien, resident master=war chief truther. as you can imagine, i’m currently having the time of my life enjoying one of the few bright gems from the mess that was the war games in colour. i mean, of course, the master’s themes (yes, themes with an ‘s’) playing over the war chief, giving a very unsubtle nod to the wide-held belief that the two characters are one and the same.

but why, perhaps you’ve wondered, do people think that? is it just that some master-obsessed fans see a time lord villain and can’t stretch their imaginations enough to conceive of there being more than one bad guy who’s run away from gallifrey and made an enemy of the doctor? no. come on, give us some credit! i freely admit to being master-obsessed, and find the vibes very compelling, what i truly like to deal in is Cold Hard Lore, straight from the text. and, boy is there a lot of it! to summarize:

the war chief was introduced in the war games, written by malcolm hulke and terrance dicks. (dicks, of course, was also co-creator of the master, with barry letts). based on the novelizations, i firmly believe that malcom hulke intended his character, the war chief, to be the master. dicks also hinted along these same lines.

but, i hear you cry, didn’t dicks go on to write timewyrm: exodus, which shows us a future incarnation of the war chief that isn’t the master? yes, because the official editioral line for the vmas & vnas was that the war chief & the master were to be treated as two distinct characters. this caused more than one writer who personally believed them to be the same to write otherwise in a professional capacity. writers still dropped hints or left space open to link the two despite this editorial limitation.

and what about magnus, the guy who’s well-known in current fandom as the “academy era” version of the war chief? magnus was originally written as a younger incarnation of the master, not the war chief. in flashback, goth opera, and invasion of the cat-people, the character of magnus is a young master. so why did gary russell retcon the character in divided loyalties to be the war chief instead? he did so out of respect for david mcintee, who had recently written an early master story which used the koschei. despite divided loyalties’ portrayal of magnus and koschei as separate characters, it actually in large part serves to conflate the two further, due to said retconning.

in faction paradox lore, the war king is a version of the master (i don’t need to make a post on that, do i?) that was also once the war chief.

craig hinton’s rejected pda time’s champion (ultimately completed & published after his death, by chris mckeon) explicitly depicts the war chief as an incarnation of the master, as well as reasserting that magnus was the name the master used at the academy.

and now also the music choices in the war games in colour :)

of course, this list of Evidence (elucidated in detail below the cut) doesn’t mean you’re obligated to think the war chief is the master (canon, in doctor who more than most, is what you make of it), but i hope it gives you idea of the long history of the character(s) and why other people do!

the ‘70s target novelizations

the essential thing to know about the early target novelizations is that they were written to be self-contained, so that they could be enjoyed by an audience that hadn't seen the show. they weren’t written in the same order as the television serials, and as such only assumed reader knowledge of previous novelizations, not tv stories. for example, in doctor who and the doomsday weapon (aka colony in space) jo grant is shown joining unit and meeting the doctor for the first time, despite having done so three stories earlier and in completely different circumstances from a tv perspective, because that is the first novelization her character appears in. got it? good.

doctor who and the doomsday weapon (aka colony in space) is also the first novelization to feature the master, and was written by malcolm hulke in 1974. it begins with a scene that doesn’t occur in the tv story, where a senile old time lord tells his apprentice about the theft of two tardises by a pair of time lords now calling themselves the doctor & the master:

“There have been two stolen, you know.” The younger Time Lord didn’t know. “By our enemies?” he asked. “No. By Time Lords. They both became bored with this place. It was too peaceful for them, not enough happening.” The old Keeper smiled to himself, as though remembering with some glee all the fuss when two TARDISes were stolen. “One of them nowadays calls himself ‘the Doctor.’ The other says he is ‘the Master.’”

this ‘only two tardises stolen’ business is a big deal in hulke’s novelizations, as we will come to see. and, just to clarify, there's no question of this meaning the master might be being conflated with the monk here — the time meddler won't be novelized until 1988. remember, the novelizations are self-contained, and do not rely on knowledge of previous tv stories. except the older time lord continues, and a little further on says:

“There were tens of thousands of humans from the planet Earth, stranded on another planet where they thought they were re-fighting all the wars of Earth’s terrible history. The Doctor” — he interrupted himself — “I told you about him, didn’t I?” “Yes,” said the young Time Lord, now used to the old Keeper forgetting what he had already said. “You mentioned the Doctor and the Master.” “No, it wasn’t the Master,” said the old Keeper in his confused way. “The Master never does anything good for anyone. He’s thoroughly evil. Now what was I saying?”

‘wait,’ you say, ‘you just made a whole point of the novelizations being self-contained. but the war games wasn't novelized until 1979, so readers wouldn't know about it yet. why is hulke bringing it up now?’ why indeed? hulke summarizes the events and specifically brings them up in relation to the doctor & the master. the facts are presented to us: a) there were only two tardises stolen, by the doctor and the master. b) they went by different names at some point. c) this seems to have something to do with the war games. d) it maybe wasn’t exactly the master in the war games (but perhaps he was calling himself something else then?). it is quite ambiguous — the keeper's confusion leaves it open to interpretation, but the fact that this whole little scene serves as an introduction to the master (he steals the keeper's files in order to discover the doomsday weapon) is, in my mind, quite an extraordinary hint, especially when paired with hulke's novelization of the war games.

later that same year, in doctor who and the sea-devils, hulke again brings up the two stolen tardises, which we will get back to:

“But what use is your TARDIS to you while you’re stuck in here?” Jo asked. “It would be difficult for you to understand,” said the Master, “but my TARDIS is my proudest possession.” The Doctor laughed. “You don’t even own it! You stole it from the Time Lords!” “As you stole yours!” retorted the Master.

terrance dicks then wrote doctor who and the terror of the autons in 1975. additional info is added to the scene between the doctor and the time lord who comes to warn him about the master’s arrival on earth:

“As a matter of fact, I’ve come to bring you a warning. An old friend of yours has arrived on Earth.” “One of our people? Who is it?” The Time Lord pronounced a string of mellifluous syllables — one of the strange Time Lord names that are never disclosed to outsiders. Then he added, “These days he calls himself the Master.”

he uses the master’s gallifreyan name first and then provides his title. again, this suggests that the last time the doctor & the master met the latter was using a different name.

then, we’re given a description of the master, including:

Already he had been behind several Interplanetary Wars, always disappearing from the scene before he could be caught. If ever he were caught, his fate would be far worse than the Doctor’s exile. Once captured by the Time Lords, the Master’s life-stream would be thrown into reverse. Not only would he no longer exist, he would never have existed. It was the severest punishment in the Time Lords’ power.

which brings to mind the war games, certainly intended to be an interplanetary war (with the eventual aim of ruling the galaxy) even if it never really got off the ground. more significantly, though, the punishment described here is exactly what the time lords did to the war lord in the war games & what they would have done to the war chief, if he hadn’t escaped. (note even stories that don't posit the war chief as the master assume he escaped, despite his onscreen death — he is a time lord, after all.) and, speaking of that escape, the doctor asks:

“Is his TARDIS still working?” “I’m afraid so. He got away before it could be de-energised.” “Then he was luckier than I,” said the Doctor sadly. He had never really got used to his exile.

the master’s escape described here could, of course, mean some general, unseen-by-us escape from the time lords by the master, but the conversation strongly suggests that the doctor and the master were escaping from the same event: the master was ‘luckier’ than the doctor because he succeeded, while the doctor’s tardis was captured and he was forced into exile. and that happened, of course, in the war games.

which in 1979, malcolm hulke wrote the novelization for. in doctor who and the war games, a change occurs when the war chief invites the doctor to rule with him:

“Now I understand,” said the Doctor. “It’s my TARDIS that you want. But surely you have one of your own?” The War Chief smiled. “No more mine than yours is really yours! We are both thieves, Doctor. Yes, I do have a TARDIS hidden away. But are not two better than one? While I rest and enjoy the spoils of victory, you can patrol our empire. And I shall do the same for you.” “Our empire?” “We shall rule the galaxy without fear of opposition,’ the War Chief said confidently. “For we shall be the only two who can travel through both space and time.”

this invitation is, of course, very reminiscent of the master’s ‘half-share in the universe’ proposal, but much more significantly: their empire will be secure because they have the sole two stolen tardises. crucially, this is a deviation from the tv story, wherein the doctor realizes the war chief is allying with him because he doesn’t have a tardis of his own, only the failing sardits. hulke intentionally chose to amend his own story to emphasize this, and we know these two stolen tardises are the doctor's & the master's, as hulke told us in previous novelizations. thus, there's no doubt in my mind that malcolm hulke, co-creator of the war chief, intended his character to be the master.

all other master=war chief lore is building off of what was implied in the novelizations, some more explicitly, some less.

virgin books says no

in 1991, terrance dicks wrote a vna, timewyrm: exodus. in this novel, the war chief appears as a botched two-bodied regeneration after his death at the end of the war games, called dr. kriegslieter. as said in the beginning of this post, virgin’s editorial policy nixed the idea of a connection between the war chief and the master. but, reading timewyrm: exodus, there seem to be shades of him anyway. like when the doctor realizes who kriegslieter is:

And behind them, aiding them, manipulating them, giving them the time technology they needed, the Time Lord renegade who called himself the War Chief. Or, in German, der kriegslieter. “Well, he couldn’t have spelled it out for me much more plainly,” muttered the Doctor.

he really couldn't have. just like all the times the master’s alias has been an exceedingly obvious translation of his own name. and then there's also kriegslieter’s plan, which is to steal the doctor's body to use as his own (complete with sexual innuendo):

“Once I have wrested from it the secret of the TARDIS, your mind will be of no further interest to me. But your body…” “Please,” said the Doctor, looking embarrassed. “Ladies present.” “We are both Time Lords, Doctor, our brains and our bodies are compatible. Regeneration therapy is far beyond the War Lord’s scientists, but even they can manage a simple brain transplant.” Kriegslieter studied the Doctor with detached, clinical interest. “To be honest, it isn’t the body I would have chosen but it’s infinitely superior to the one I have. When all this is over Doctor, I shall be you — and you, or whatever shattered gibbering remnant of you is left, will be me. Appropriate, don’t you think? A crippled mind in a crippled body…”

this was, of course, the master’s plan in the keeper of traken (and many others since). in addition ‘we are both time lords’ is a direct echo of both the war chief in the war games and delgado in the mind of evil, the claws of axos, and colony in space.

kriegslieter also calls seven ‘my dear doctor’ throughout, which is not a quirk of speech that the war chief has been ever shown to have. i can't claim it's unique to the master, but i think there's a certain history there. (did you know ainley says it five times in one 50 min long serial?)

similar can be said about the dark path, written by david mcintee in 1997, which explores a villain origin story for the master. though early drafts of the novel mentioned the war chief as a separate character, this was cut before publication (and can be found instead in the charity anthology perfect timing). on mcintee’s tumblr, he indicated that he left the ending ambiguous in order to facilitate other incarnations between the koschei of the novel and delgado’s appearance on-screen, specifically citing edward brayshaw (the actor who portrayed the war chief) as an example. mcintee also posited, in the tags of a gifset of the war chief: ‘#depending on your point of view #the master #or not #does it matter?’ and on another, cryptically, ‘#oh if only i could tell you-’

i think it matters in some sense, or else i’d probably not be writing this post! but again, it goes to show that writers during the virgin era were aware of the connection between the two characters, whether their views on the subject aligned with the editorial line or not.

magnus, as the master

as said before, the character of magnus was introduced in the comic flashback, which appeared in the doctor who magazine winter special for 1992, edited by gary russell & written by warwick gray. it depicts seven and benny viewing a scene from the doctor’s past, where two old friends, thete and magnus, are at odds.

BENNY: Pistols at ten paces, anyone? DOCTOR: Yes… ‘Thete’ and ‘Magnus’. Funny how old nicknames can stick. They were good friends once. A long time ago.

magnus was, at the time of this comic's creation, meant to be the master. there is no connection to the war chief in this story. which is why when goth opera, written by paul cornell, is published in 1994, magnus is the name used for the young master when listing out the doctor's school friends:

“That was when I was young and wild, Doctor. My contemporaries and I grew up to take our responsibilities seriously.” “Ah…” The Doctor nodded. “Unlike my year. I begin to see.” “Yes.” Ruath warmed to her subject, sipping from the goblet. Her eyes never left the Doctor’s. “Mortimus, the Rani, that idiot Magnus. And you, Doctor. All graduates of Borusa’s Academy for scoundrels.”

and, in 1995, when gary russell wrote invasion of the cat-people, he again used magnus as a name for the young master, referencing the master running out of lives far more quickly than the doctor by the time of the deadly assassin:

Polly smiled. “I’m glad you’re completely recovered, Doctor. You had us worried, you know.” “Regeneration’s a tricky thing,” he said. “And it was my first one. Always the trickiest. They’re supposed to get better as they go on, so long as you don’t flitter them. Always used to say to my academy chum Magnus, ‘Magnus,’ I’d say, ‘Magnus, don’t throw old bodies away like you would a suit. They don’t grow on trees.’ Or something like that. Never listened though.”

then, when gary russell wrote divided loyalties in 1999, he followed mcintee’s lead in using koschei as the name for a younger master, and instead retconned magnus as a younger war chief, showing the two of them interacting during the doctor’s academy days. for someone who doesn’t think the war chief and the master are the same (and russell doesn’t), this was a strange move… surely naming the young war chief character quite literally anything else would’ve neatly severed the two, but using a name already established as the young master’s just confuses the whole thing and leaves them even more intertwined than before.

(if you’re a fan of the academy era and strongly adhere to the lore in divided loyalties and so this is a particular sticking point for you, remember that all the academy era scenes we see in the novel are actually part of a nightmare the fifth doctor is having — who’s to say he didn’t dream his best friend as two different people? he forgot which one of them killed a guy with a rock, after all…)

the war chief king

in the book of the war, the 2002 faction paradox ‘encyclopedia’ edited by lawrence miles, the entry on the war king (the master, as he was known as president of gallifrey during the war in heaven) states:

His personal assistant notes that his office is brimming with official business, but devoid of decoration. The only concession he makes to sentimentality are the components of a hypercube, twelve white squares stacked neatly on his desk. Its significance is unclear, but it’s thought to be the War King’s last remaining link with his unfortunate past.

the very first use of a hypercube was, of course, at the end of the war games, when the second doctor used it to call in the time lords. though an allusion to the war chief was not the author of that entry's original intention, the connection was made in readers’ minds and became an established part of faction paradox lore, becoming even more firmly cemented as other writers ran with it. the war king spells it out himself in the 2021 audio sabbath and the king by aristide twain:

THE WAR KING: I have failed to introduce myself. I am— ah, but as we have just seen: names have power. I do not think I shall grace you with one of my true names, Sabbath, no, not yet. Let’s see. The Deathless? Oh, let us not get ahead of ourselves just yet. Chief and Master, Minister and Magistrate, President and King… I have been many things.

twain again linked the two characters in the 2023 short story the god who came for christmas, a sequel to the 1986 fasa ttrpg adventure the legions of death. fasa portrays the war chief and the master as separate characters, but twain bridges this gap in a particularly masterful way.

time’s champion

and finally we have time’s champion, originally written in the '80s(?) by craig hinton, completed by chris mckeon in 2008 as a charity publication. first, we have mel stumbling upon a corridor of portraits in the tardis:

Her first impression was that the Doctor was at the end of a long, thin corridor. And then she realised what the corridor was. An art gallery, the length hung with paintings, from the doorway to the far distance. As she started padding silently along the corridor, she looked at the paintings, and saw they were all portraits. Portraits painted in a variety of styles, from photo-realistic to impressionist, and everything in between. And she recognised some of the subjects. […] Moving on, Mel had hoped for something a little less depressing, but it wasn’t to be. The atmosphere had changed again: it was still cold, but a sterile light was now bathing the area. Then she realised why: the sterility, the coldness — trademarks of the Time Lords. This must be the Doctor’s own people. Pride of place was given to the Master — or rather the Masters: the familiar, music-hall villain in his velvet penguin suit had been captured in all his melodramatic glory, but there was also a suave, older man, his eyes radiating a fierce, evil intelligence wrapped in charm, next to which was positioned the portrait of a young, satanically handsome man with long, sharp sideburns and a thin, beard-length moustache, whose hand vainly clutched at a strange medallion hanging around his neck, as if clinging to the only power in his possession. And then there was an image of the cadaver, that rotting corpse that Mel knew was all that remained of the Doctor’s oldest friend and oldest enemy, animated by nothing but pure malice and spite.

the description of the ‘satanically handsome man’ is obviously the war chief.

and then, the doctor remembers events from his past:

The night time vanished into the shadows of light, as new images, all familiar, threw themselves past the Doctor’s eyes: his tedious years at the Academy, his rise in the Time Lord hierarchy, his flight from Gallifrey, the early years of his exile, the planet of the War Games and his reunion with the Master, the lost years of imposed servitude to the Time Lords, all his memories and so many more impressed their way across the Doctor’s vision, even up to the moment of the present day. Then, abruptly, the vision ended. The Keeper began to speak again.

his reunion with the master occurs during the war games and precedes his exile (which is when his meeting with delgado’s master occurs).

and magnus is once again used as a name for the young master:

The Doctor and Benton managed to glimpse him as he raced past. He was young, with a curving moustache and a dark, haughty face accustomed to obedience but now shadowed and twisted by fear. He ran onwards without even pausing to acknowledge their presence. He seemed desperate to outrun something. Moments later, a group of well-armed and uniformed men rounded the corridor and also hurried past the Doctor’s party, following the fleeing man in their wake. Steadying himself against the cool stone wall at his side, the Doctor watched the squad pass, recognising them as members of the Chancellery Guard, but clothed in armour and dress from the long departed era of his days in the Academy. The Doctor paused, wondering where he had seen that face before. “Magnus?” the Doctor whispered. Benton stepped over to the Doctor. “Who was that bloke those boys were chasing after, Doc? He looked a bit like the Master.” The Doctor gazed into the distance. “That he did, and for good reason.”

for good reason indeed :)

[leifygreeens]

could you write something about your first kisses with the bachelor/ettes? I feel like you're the only blog who characterizes them well ugh

Hey, anon. Sorry for disappearing on you, that’s my bad. I hope this is worth the wait. 

If you're looking for other people who know how to write people like they're people, @maylilithreign, @snailmail444, @babiebom, and @junicult are all great, and I can’t recommend them enough. (Minors do not follow/interact with Jo or Libby, and Bom and Snail don’t want any kiddos interacting with their NSFW stuff, so don’t do that either. Be nice and respect everyone's boundaries.)

Warnings: Cursing (my fault), a little bit of dialogue, and some suggestive moments (also my fault). Enjoy <3

Sam

Out of all of the bachelors, he’s the most nervous

Which is ironic, given the “jump-head-first-into-things-with-no-care-for-my-personal-safety” vibe he’s got going on, but whatever

He refuses to touch you, at first—but not because he doesn’t want to

Sam is an extremely tactile person, so of course he wants to touch you—but he also knows he can be a bit much sometimes, and he doesn’t want to chase you off with his greed or his enthusiasm

So he goes for soft, gentle, and perfectly pliant under your touch as you pull him in

It’s honestly a little jarring, because he seems the type to get desperate (true) and not be able to control himself (also very true)

But this boy is exercising an immense amount of self control to not jump headfirst into getting heavy and fast and yanking on clothes too hard

He does a good job keeping himself contained atta boy, buddy

He thought that once he’d finally gotten a taste of you, maybe he’d finally be able to think about literally anything else

Unfortunately, he would be incorrect

And now that he has experienced it, he’s overwhelmed and dizzy with his want

He keeps his eyes closed and basks in it for at least five seconds after you pull away

He is absolutely heaving, wrecked just from the tiniest chaste press of your lips against his

He’s been waiting for you to do that for weeks

His eyes flutter open slowly, and then his gaze flicks up to you

Licks his lips as he tracks his eyes down your torso and back up

His palm is warm against the back of your neck as he pulls you down for seconds

And yeah, this is more like how you thought it’d be

Does not stop pulling you against him, even though you physically couldn’t get any closer if you tried

Your shirt gets rucked up to your waist untintentionally, because he keeps gripping you and yanking you closer

But the moment he feels your bare skin against his palms, he’s flinging himself backward

Blinks up at you with bright pink cheeks and his hands twitching against your waist

Swallows hard and clenches his jaw

He knows he should let go but he really doesn’t want to

If you lean back in, he drags his hands up slowly, and traces the line of your spine with his fingertips

I’ll stop there lol

Sebastian

This boy. Jesus.

He’s got next to no experience, let’s just get that out of the way now

Is immediately overwhelmed, even before you kiss him

Just the feeling of your palms warm on his jaw as you angle him just so is enough to have him trembling

Stares at your lips through half-lidded eyes until you finally finish closing the distance

Shivers at the slightest brush of your lips against his

He gasps high and can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed by it

Grabs onto your hips for dear life

He is immensely glad that you decided to kiss him while he was leaning on his bike, because otherwise he would have collapsed at your feet he might collapse anyway

Lord help him if you try to deepen the kiss though

If you do, he might actually pass out

Similarly to Sam, he’s going to get desperate after a minute, but he’ll hold himself back

He’ll have way less success with it than Sam, though

Sebastian definitely holds you a little too tight, and doesn’t give you enough space or time to breathe between kisses

Even if you don’t touch him beyond holding his face, when you pull away, he looks absolutely debauched

Like you could’ve sworn your hands were never in his hair but somehow it’s still ruffled?

Nevermind his hoodie sitting askew on his shoulders and giving a considerable peak at his collarbones

Honestly you don’t know how he managed to do all that, but don’t bother asking him because he is not able to think straight at all

His eyes are hardly open, blinking slowly and zoned absolutely the fuck out while he tries to catch his breath

Homeboy is straight up panting

“Breathe, Seb.”

Whines out a “no” all petulantly, pulls you flush against his chest, and dives in again

Alex

Homeboy spent weeks fantasizing about kissing you before he finally worked up the courage

He wants your first kiss to be special, like something straight off the movie screen

But he’s constantly second guessing himself, convinced that no moment is perfect enough to cut it

He’s hoping that the moment will come when you’re on a date or something, and he’s planning romantic shit left and right with the hopes that something will click and that’ll be it

He’s dropping you off at home after another date, and another failed attempt

He walks down your porch and turns around briefly to make sure you get inside safely

You’re watching him go, a knowing smile on your face as you reach for the handle

“Goodnight, Alex. Get home safe.”

You lick your lips, and turn to go inside

That’s what does it. Because of course it is.

The urge, the determination, the sudden desire thick and pooling in his chest that he’s never felt before—he knows without a doubt that if he doesn’t kiss you right now, he’s going to cry

Fuck perfection, fuck the moment, he just wants to kiss you

Practically stomps up your front steps, breath heaving in his chest as he reaches out and pulls you right against him with a hand on your jaw

Angling you just so, and leaning in to seal your lips together

He breathes a sigh of relief

Finally.

Something like satisfaction settles in his chest, warm like honey dripping into a mug of tea

His touch is firm on your jaw, keeping you perfectly angled for him to kiss you how he wants

You hold onto his arms for dear life, anchoring yourself to him as he kisses you so eagerly that your back actually hits your front door

It doesn’t hurt, but that makes you gasp into his mouth, and oof that sound is dangerous for his sanity

Isn’t really rough about it, but he is firm

Hisses a curse or two between kisses, licks his lips a lot because he can’t get enough

Bringing your hands up around his shoulders, you tangle your fingertips in the short cropped hair on his nape

You run your fingernails over his skin lightly, and he shivers hard

Practically pins you against the door in his effort to get closer

He accidentally presses too close, and the tiniest noise rumbles against his lips from the back of your throat

He knows what that sound means immediately, and alarm bells go off in his head

Tears himself away from you and pants for breath

Drops his forehead against your shoulder and props himself up against the door instead of holding you

“Alex?” 

God, your voice is all hoarse from kissing him and it’s putting dangerous thoughts in his head

“I should go home. Before I…”

You agree, but he doesn’t move away

Your eyes flick down to his lips for a split second, and that’s enough

Just one more, he tells himself, and then you’re swapping the air in your lungs again

With one hand spread against the mahogany and the other gripping your hip, he gives you a few more than just the one

Elliott 

Same dilemma as Alex

Wants it to be special, dramatic, memorable, heart-stopping, all the things

And he tries

He tries so hard

And it almost works. 

God dammit, his picnic by the pond next to Marnie’s almost works

The moment is perfect, you’re smiling up at him with the breeze blowing in your hair and the sun in your smile

Until the sun is suddenly gone and the wind picks up into a howl

In almost no time at all a storm cracks the sky open and you two get absolutely drenched

You run to your farmhouse, practically soaked through as you make it to the safety of your porch awning

The picnic is ruined, and he’s super disappointed because he was so close 

Then he looks at you, and he’s never seen such a beautiful sight

Hair glued to your face from the rain, with a wild grin on your face and your laughter chiming like bells in his ears

He drops the picnic blanket heavy with rain water across the top of your porch bench to dry, and sets the basket down

He needs his hands free if he wants to do this right

He’s stepping towards you, shivering from the rain sticking to his skin

And we all know Elliott is a romantic at heart

Wipes the rain off your cheeks as best he can, all while he smiles softly at you

“May I kiss you?”

You nod quickly, immediately hooking your hands on the lapels of his jacket and hanging on

Kisses you gentle and slow

Cradles the back of your head and neck like you’re made of glass

It isn’t a particularly long kiss—maybe a few seconds at most

Breathes quietly against your lips when you part

Looks at you for a few long moments with all the love in his heart, and doesn’t plan on kissing you twice until you’re glancing at his lips again

Elliott brings his hands to your shoulder blades and presses you close to his chest

But he can’t get close enough

Drags his hands down to your waist and grips you tight

You squeak against his mouth when he does, and that’s when he loses his composure

Starts kissing you a little more firmly, tries deepening the kiss a bit

Shivers and gasps when your fingers tangle into his hair, still stringy and wet from the rain

And he doesn’t stop shivering

You pull away, feeling his shoulders shaking uncontrollably, and then you giggle because his teeth have started chattering

“Cold?”

“Extremely.”

You invite him inside to dry off and warm up

He may or may not kiss you again.

Shane

You’d think your first kiss would be nervous and awkward—no.

Shane holds himself back for at least a few weeks into your relationship, worried out of his mind that one wrong move is gonna shatter everything for you two

So once he’s confident and knows for certain that he’s what you want,

He’s not holding back for shit

Homeboy physically can’t stand the tension anymore anyway, especially with how often he catches you staring at him—at his lips

Pulls you in by the back of your neck and keeps his hand there to hold you close

Even when he pulls away to let you catch your breath, it’s barely enough because you’re still gasping into each other’s mouths

He literally does not let you go more than an inch or two

Your lips are 100% flushed and tingling from how much he nips at them

His other hand is firm on your waist and he does not let you go unless you ask him to

Struggles to choose between looking into your eyes or staring at your lips any time you part

So he does both

His hair is usually a little scruffy looking, but something about a kiss like that has him looking particularly disheveled

Shiny pink lips, bruised and angry red from how hard he’s pressing into you

Eyebrows pinched together and it almost makes him look angry

His hoodie is probably pulling at his shoulders a bit because somehow you managed to push it down his arms

Presses his thumb against the pulse point beneath your jaw, just to make sure he’s not the only one who’s losing it

And he struggles to keep it together when he feels your heart thumping wildly in your throat

Recognizes which direction you’re both going and starts switching to chaste pecks

Rests his forehead against yours as you both calm back down

Gets a little teary while looking at you, and huffs a wet laugh too

He’s so happy with you, and doesn’t know how he got so lucky

Harvey

Softest fucking kiss you’ve ever been given in your entire life

Your noses bump together a little before he’s diving in close

Holds you so delicately, because you’re so precious to him

Gives you a few test pecks before he actually goes for it, and breathes in heavily through his nose when he does

It’s the kind of kiss that has you pulling on each other to get as close as possible

He holds the back of your neck like Shane, but he’s much more gentle about it

Will let you pull away however many times you want, but chases after you every time

His eyes are all hazy and he physically cannot stop looking at your mouth

With one hand on your waist, Harvey will dip his thumb under the hem of your shirt and rub back and forth over your skin

You’ve never seen him as focused as he is when he’s kissing you

Doesn’t move to take the kiss deeper, and doesn’t use tongue—but he doesn’t need to

Just the insistent press of lips is enough to get his point across

If his glasses get pushed up or clink against your face, he’ll pull back to take them off and set them down

The tension is kind of overwhelming

Every time he tries to restrain himself or exhibit self control, it only takes one look at your big eyes blinking at him with a flush on your cheeks and he’s getting right back up in your business

You’ve never heard him curse so openly before, but trying to control himself is nearing painful

Dives in, pauses a centimeter away, swears viciously because he’s failing miserably at controlling himself, and then he’s giving up entirely

Couldn’t resist you even if he wanted to

You’ll have to be the one to put an end to it because Harvey cannot

Don’t call his name while he’s like this though because then he won’t give you a moment to speak again

[londonlights724]

I’m at a true loss for words, but also feel like I have so much to say? The last 24 hours haven’t felt real. I don’t think the news really sunk in until I saw the posts from Louis, Zayn, Harry and the official 1D account.

I created an account on Tumblr all the way back in 2011, specifically for this group of 5 boys from the UK who had stolen my heart. I can still remember the feeling of hearing them sing for the first time. Funny enough it wasn’t WMYB; the music video for Gotta Be You was recommended on YouTube and the rest is history.

I was a freshman-sophomore when the boys fame started to really take off, and my love for them as well. High school was a very rough time for me with body dysmorphia, anxiety and depression. I would self harm because I had all of these feelings that I didn’t know how to express or who to express them to. Until I found the boys.

It sounds dramatic to say they saved my life.. but they truly did. Something clicked after that first song, and suddenly life didn’t feel so hard and scary. I made friends because of One Direction. My first “adult” concert (aka old enough to get the tickets myself) was their first tour of America - the Up All Night tour. Olly Murs opened and even though I was up in the rafters, it was the greatest moment of my life up until that point.

After that concert, I wore the T-shirt I bought from the merch tent all the time. After a while it got so gross and old, that I didn’t have any real reason to keep it. But I did. Something inside of me wouldn’t let me get rid of it.

Today I pulled that old shirt out and just held it. Lord knows it doesn’t fit anymore but even just holding it flooded the memories back into my brain. Memories of waking up at 3AM for album releases, of waiting in line for special editions of the albums, of seeing This Is Us in theaters many times. The memory of skipping class the day Zayn left to sit with the shock, and the memory of how it felt to hear the word hiatus.

All that’s to say once the boys went on hiatus, I started to drift away from the fandom. I still followed all the boys’ careers loosely, but really only Harry I followed in detail. So seeing the news a few years back about Liam’s substance abuse struggles, I was pleasantly surprised to hear about his sobriety in 2023. Especially after the interviews he had done during the time when he was struggling with addiction (ahem Logan Paul).

To then all culminate into the abuse allegations brought forth by Maya in the last few weeks. It was so disappointing to hear. That someone that I looked up to as a teenager could be capable of the things being reported. I wanted justice for Maya and I wanted Liam held accountable but to also be able to get the help he has needed for years, but doesn’t seem to have gotten.

I think one thing I’ve struggled with is mourning for the person I loved as a teen, who wasn’t the same person as an adult that did terrible things. It’s complicated. But understanding both things can be true, helps make processing this grief easier.

I send all of my love, thoughts and prayers to Liam’s parents, sisters and family. To his son, Bear. To his brothers, Harry, Louis, Niall and Zayn. To Kate. To Maya. To his friends and all those close to him. And lastly, to all the fellow Directioners processing this together.

Please remember to take time away from social media when things feel heavy. If you’re struggling, please reach out to someone - heck, my inbox is always open if you just need someone. Just don’t feel like you have to carry anything alone.

If you’re in the US, calling or texting 988 will put you in contact with someone from the suicide hotline, NAMI (Nat’l Alliance on Mental Illness). If you, or someone you know, struggles with substance abuse, you can contact the National Drug Abuse Helpline at 1-800-662-4357.

Love, Jo. ❤️‍🩹

[urauntiefaye]

are your requests still open?

If still, may I request something😩 ||

Scenario : i am the lady's in waiting of Jo's mother who is the queen (jo is the crown prince). jo secretly loves me and has wanted to 'make me his' for a long time. One day I asked the queen for permission to marry a man of my parents' choice (even though I don't love the man my parents chose, because he is 20 years different from me ewww🤢). that means I have to withdraw from the palace to get married. when jo found out about this, jo got angry and jealousy and I ended up making love in his room and he claimed me as his, planting his seed in me so that I don't marry the man my parents chose and he wants me to be his wife bcuz i have his 'kid'🥺

You Will Be Mine (Jo Asakura Royalty Au🔞👑)

Word Count: 970

CW: Smut, breeding, exhibition(Kind of?), y/n is AFAB(I assumed since you wrote lady in waiting, if not please let me know and I will fix it!), Penetration(P in V)

A/N: ROYAL AU ROYAL AU ROYAL AU!!!!!! Anonnie you have no idea what you just fed me. Now, this was a little difficult for me, like my wording seems off to me and I feel like I didn’t do this concept justice enough. I do apologize, however I do hope you like it! Content is below the line!

Your family has always worked closely with the Royal family of the kingdom. It was in your blood to serve the Asakuras, So growing up with the Prince wasn’t unusual. When you were both young you would often find yourselves playing together. Running around in the open fields, playing hide and seek and in the castle, even sneaking off into the woods to find a little lake and a Gazebo. It was yours, the place where Prince Jo went to blow off steam from the responsibilities, a place where you went to cry, both a place where you two comforted each other in times of need.

 It would be safe to say that you two were the best of friends. However play time had to be cut short once the prince turned 13. At the age he was often found in the library with a tutor or in the Kings office to attend and watch silently during important meetings. You both stayed close yet apart, interactions cut short and more professional as he fulfilled his Princely duties and yours as the Queen's lady in waiting. It would be a lie that you didn’t miss him, but you knew that this was how it was supposed to be. Only if you knew that Jo always had his on you, longing and missing you. As you both became adults not only did your duties become more frequent and more serious, but the time for you to be wedded also came. Your parents had arranged a meeting for you to meet a Lord in another kingdom, with you not being too keen on meeting him and dreading it you had run off to the little Gazebo, surprised it was still standing. You spent some time trying to get your thoughts together, you knew it was your responsibility, but you never thought your parents would agree nonetheless even choose to marry you off to some forty year old Lord in another kingdom which was miles upon miles away from your home. 

“Thought I’d find you here” a soft gentle voice was heard from behind you, as you turned around you saw Jo. “Was it that obvious I’d be here? After All these years?”. He came closer to you, sitting down, his knee slightly touching yours. “Kind of?...I heard the news by the way”, you smiled sadly and sighed. “Yeah…guess it can’t be helped though right?”, he hummed as a response, you couldn’t help but notice the disappointment on his face as he looked away from you. Both sitting in silence enjoying each other's presence, “what if there was a way?, a way that will keep you here, with me?”, confused by his sudden words you retort back “what are you talking about Jo?, there’s no way-” you words being cut off as you felt a pair of soft lips pressed against yours. Taken back you didn’t move, trying to process what was happening. Jo rested his hand on your thigh, leaning into you more, kissing you with passion and what seemed to be hunger. You kissed him back, your brain going blank and just following his lead. He pushed you down so you were laying on your back, as he deepened the kiss he pushed your knee signaling to spread your legs more to which you did. His slender hands squeezing your thighs and his lips make their way down your neck making sure to leave little evidence of his touch. A soft moan escaping your lips as you tangled your fingers through his hair, Jo settled himself in between your legs and raised your dress to settle at your hips. His action getting more aggressive and rough, not wasting a single moment he tore your underwear off. The next thing you know you feel the tip of his dick rub slowly from your clit to your aching hole. A groan leaving his lips as you also moan, he brought his lips to yours and kissed you roughly, he eased the tip of his member in slowly, the stretch already making you whine. Sinking down more into you, inch by inch slowly until he finally filled you up. The initial feeling sending shivers of pleasure down his spine, “f-fuck, you feel so good” he said with a shaky breath. It didn’t take him long enough to start thrusting into you at a brutal pace though, his hips rutting against yours as your name fell from his lips like a mantra. You tried to cover your mouth in an attempt of downing out your moans so you won’t get caught, but he stopped you quickly by pinning your hands above your head. “Don’t hide your pretty moans” he groaned as he snapped his hips harshly against your erupting a loud almost screaming moan. “Want everyone to hear who you belong to” his words going straight to your cunt, clenching around his dick hard. This got him more worked up and he flushed chest against yours and started whispering out even more sinful things to you. Such as how he was going to breed you and make sure you will have to marry him since you’ll be the one carrying his heirs. His promises of making you his and filling you up where you have no choice but to end up getting pregnant by him made you not only emotional but it’s what also helped you get pushed over the edge reaching your climax with no warning. Jo, also reaching his end as his cum shot deep inside you, not daring to pull out or stop his thrusts until he knew for sure you would end up pregnant with his children. To say you two went at it till the sunset might be an overstatement, but damn does it sure as hell feel like it. 

[headcanonsandmore]

Sergeant Benton with every Doctor (1-13)

1- I get the sense that One's initial dislike of being questioned would soften a little when dealing with Benton's sweet earnestness. Especially if Benton risks his own life to save Susan (because of course he would).

2- On the rare occasions where Two interacted with Benton, they seem to get along perfectly fine. I think that if Benton was around full time, he'd definitely develop a strong friendship with him. And, of course, Benton and Jamie would get along super well.

3- As we all know, Three was the closest to Benton out of the incarnations who met him, but I think Benton being a fully-fledged traveling companion would put an interesting spin on things. I think Benton would have a great time, although he would probably get tons of marriage proposals from the inhabitants of planets they'd travel to (I mean, he is super lovely, after all). And I'm sure Jo Grant would appreciate having her himbo bestie around.

4- Four liked Benton the most out of the UNIT soldiers he interacted with, so no surprises that he'd appreciate having Benton as a traveling companion a lot. I imagine Sarah-Jane would also appreciate a sweet himbo to bounce ideas off (especially since Benton is basically the opposite of Harry Sullivan in every way).

5- Five would get along so well with Benton, it's unreal. Benton is such a calming influence that Five would have him around just to chat over tea with. I also think the most personable of the classic Doctors would appreciate Benton's down-to-earth nature and sense of cheery humour. Also, Benton is the only UNIT man that Tegan and Nyssa would actually like, and we all know those two need at least one himbo third wheel with them at any given moment (Benton tries to sneak date money into Tegan's purse so she can take Nyssa to a cinema, Tegan gets flustered and turns bright red, Nyssa is confused but pleased nonetheless).

6- Benton would not only be able to restrain Six during his initial regeneration mood swings, but he'd also help Peri acclimatise to the situation. Mel would probably remind him a bit of Jo Grant, and he'd naturally fit into being her best friend.

7- Listen, I don't want to split up the duo of Seven and Ace, but -if I had to- Benton would slot in well. He'd be able to see through Seven's manipulations as well as acting like a sweet big brother to Ace. He'd probably get a little worried about all the pyrotechnics, though.

8- Eight would either have a slight crush on Benton, or try manipulating him into a scheme of dubious morality. Either way, Benton would have a hard time dealing with this eldritch figure. He'd probably get along well with Eight's rotating line-up of queer companions, though.

9- God-tier duo. Can you imagine human golden retriever Benton being around Nine? Nine; the incarnation with a boat-load of trauma and guilt who just wants to save people? Well, Benton's making him take a day off at the beach with some ice cream, plus some healthy discussion of emotions and wellbeing. He'd save that time lord's life just by being his friend, and it would be fantastic.

10- To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if Benton got exasperated with Ten at times, especially with how he treated Martha. Also, that whole "Time Lord Victorious" thing? Couldn't happen with Benton there. Doc, I dunno about the nature of time, but you're supposed to help people, not decide who's important and who isn't *upset puppy dog eyes intensify* *Ten immediately reverts back to normal*. Oh, but can you imagine Benton around Donna? That would be amazing.

11- I feel like Benton would probably calm down Eleven's energy a bit, and would also be a nice calming influence on all the TARDIS crew. He'd also probably be a little confused by River Song, just in general. Also, he'd tell tons of embarrassing stories from when he used to babysit Kate Steward.

12- Listen, we know that Twelve has a... difficult situation with U.N.I.T but I think he'd value Benton's presence despite that. I also think Bill especially would like Benton's sweet nature. And -hey- Benton would also be immune to Missy's shenanigans so conflicts would be resolved a good deal easier. Although Benton would definitely be a little alarmed by Clara, and try to help her and Twelve ease their co-dependency.

13- Given the amount of himbos in Thirteen's TARDIS teams, I think Benton would probably fit in quite well. He'd definitely bring an 'older cousin' vibe to a friendship with Yaz, and I imagine he'd also be there for Yaz when Thirteen is being a self-sabotaging jerk. He would also probably have a double-act with Dan. The lovely din-dins man meets the Dan with a plan and a pan. 🤣😂

[thethirdromana]

In honour of Doctor Who's 60th birthday, here are 60* things that I like about less popular** Doctor Who stories.

(*in multiple posts because I'm falling foul of the character limit)

(**IMDB rating of less than 7/10)

1. Susan is great in The Sensorites. She's at her absolute best in stories like this where she gets to be genuinely a bit alien and a bit weird.

2. "So," said someone at the BBC, "we're going to produce an allegory for different political systems, using insects. Choreographed by a mime artist. On a budget of about £2.50." The Web Planet might not entirely have succeeded, but my god, you have to love that they tried.

3. They introduced Jamie, the best companion, in The Highlanders! How is does this have less than a 7/10 rating, what is wrong with you people. It's Jamie.

4. I applaud the utter bonkersness of The Underwater Menace, and Patrick Troughton really gives it socks.

5. The Wheel in Space is proper 60s sci-fi: Servo-Robots, x-ray lasers, radio beams! I can practically smell Penguin mass-market paperbacks thinking about it. And with the introduction of Zoe, it completes my all-time favourite TARDIS team.

6. The Dominators contains the Quarks, who are adorable. They weren't supposed to be, but it doesn't matter.

7. Zoe is still relatively new to the TARDIS, but she has heaps to do in The Krotons. Nice having a female companion who's written as smart and capable.

8. We have entered the 70s, so with Colony in Space, we get Social Issues. Especially an Evil Mining Corporation, which are always fun.

9. More Social Issues in The Mutants, but this time they're paired with big sci-fi ideas. Ancient tablets! Strange life cycles! Love how much is going on here.

10. The Time Monster is like the Eurovision of Doctor Who. Deeply silly, but what would Doctor Who be without silliness? I'm sorry about Jo's coccyx too.

11. I love that they returned to Peladon in The Monster of Peladon, especially with the 50-year time jump. I'd like to see that kind of follow-up more often.

12. Is it not cool to love K9 any more? Well, I like my Doctor Who with a dose of silliness, and The Invisible Enemy delivered that. Every time traveller needs a robot dog.

13. The design of the Seers in Underworld is excellent, I love a brass dome.

14. Doctor Who doesn't have enough giant squidmonsters looming on the horizons. I'm glad the The Power of Kroll does something to address the deficit.

15. The Creature from the Pit gave us the line "a teaspoon and an open mind", and I appreciate it for that at least.

16. Romana wears one of her best of many splendid outfits in The Horns of Nimon.

17. I liked all the arch dialogue between the Doctor, Enlightenment and Persuasion in Four to Doomsday.

18. Heathrow airport is an underrated setting. I also appreciate how Time-Flight prominently features Concorde, making it far more 80s than they could ever have planned.

19. I don't intend this to be damning with faint praise (even though it probably sounds like it) but my favourite thing about Arc of Infinity is that we get a little jaunt through 80s Amsterdam. I do love a tram.

20. Babyfaced Martin Clunes doing his spoiled princeling thing in Snakedance is enjoyably disconcerting.

21. Terminus is tense and scary and bleak. Another one that I'd expected to be more highly rated.

22. Warriors of the Deep gives us a very solid base under siege. Silurians + Cold War is a winning combination.

23. Landing in a modern village doing a historical re-enactment in The Awakening is a witty touch.

24. I can’t say I enjoyed the idea of the Doctor’s violent moods in The Twin Dilemma, but I have to commend it as a punchy way to introduce the new regeneration.

25. The Mark of the Rani should surely get some love just for introducing the Rani: camp, delightful, iconic.

26. Herbert turning out to be HG Wells in Timelash is a lovely twist and handled well.

27. The Trial of a Time Lord is so grand and ambitious. If the show hadn't been struggling in general at this point, it would be among the all-time greats.

28. With its colour-coded gangs and faux-urban slang, Paradise Towers is gloriously of its time in a way that currently feels quite naff, but that I suspect will be fascinating to revisit in about 30 years.  

29. Delta and the Bannermen is action-packed and has one of the best titles in 80s Who.

30. Possibly the most terrifying moment in all of Doctor Who is Kane's face melting in Dragonfire. This series is nothing if it doesn't send children running for safety behind the sofa.

31. Got to love it when Who gets aggressively anti-Thatcher, and they never did it more than in The Happiness Patrol.

[paeliae-occasionally]

WIP Tour Tag!

Thanks @theink-stainedfolk for the tag.

WIP - Xaeren

Places I recommend to visit:

The Magestone trees - a grove of trees that been naturally grown over the ancient magestones which bind forbidden magic. The trees grow strong feeding off of any magic that slips through the protective wards of the stones and the faint glow of the magestones shines through then at night. They are very beautiful and a testament to the end of the dissolution.

The crossroads in Laith’Zairel - This bustling market square next to the hiresian docks is packed full of fabrics and trinkets and occasionally magic items that the seller does not know the value of. Merchants from all over the world travel here to sell their wares to the last standing mage city. The sounds of the crowds and the sea are drowned out by the overwhelming smell of spices from nearby carts and the colourful streamers and shop facades that seem to stretch forever down the winding streets. It is an experience, but it’s worth it.

The old senate hall - Before the dissolution Laith’Zairel was a part of the Laith’Edrels empire and as such had a council who reported to Laith’Emeris. This council needed a space to meet so a grand hall was commissioned but since the dissolution, one of the houses of Laith’Zairel began rallying local lords and house leaders to elect them as sole monarch and House Tai’Fell took the throne so the building became useless. The hall is circular in shape so all sections of the senate would be equidistant from the speaker and it had a large domed roof with intricate gold-painted sculptures lining the ceiling depicting the founding of Laith’Emeris and Laith’Zairel and conquests of the Laith’Edrels. It is an incredible step into the past and is demonstrative of the old mages power at art as well as the war that they are remembered for.

Who are the tour guides?

Xaeren - He has lived in Zairel for 7 years on and off and knows the city in a way that a normal resident likely never would. He would take you across the rooftops of Hiresias and sneak you into the secret places hidden in the magical house Lysandri. It would be fast paced and feature places you would never be able to find again without his help.

Kell - She would show you the Magic school in House Lysandri, taking you through the different labs and glyph chambers, pointing out particular burn marks or dents in the walls and relying you about the misfired spells that led to them. She would also take you to the docks to see the sunset over the sea. She would revel in every beauty of the city that she never could have imagined in her first home.

The Hidden King - Wow, you convinced him to walk with you? Well, he would give the best tours taking you from one side of the city to the other in less than an hour which should be physically impossible but he manages with his interlacing tunnels and alleys. He shows you the city as a living breathing entity, pointing out people stopped at stalls or whispering to each other and telling you something about them which every time gets more specific and more accurate.

Which OC would do something memorable on the tour?

When you reached the walls of House Lysandri, Xaeren would climb them easily and slip onto a nearby balcony, but noticing that you did not follow he would take out the ‘Jos’ and ‘Zyr’ runes to cast in conjunction and magically lift you over the wall and onto the balcony beside you. He would do the same if at any point you fell from a rooftop, or wanted to get a better view of anything high up.

Souvenirs! What are they?

If you convinced the hidden king to give you a tour, he would leave you with a Hiresian clock. He would explain how only one of the clock faces on it showed time and the others could be set into position to convey full messages using a cypher of the hiresian language.

Kell would give you one of her first magic notebooks that you could follow to learn the basics.

Xaeren would give you a piece of jewellery imbued with magic. He would either give you slow falling or a weather spell based on how much you fell during the tour.

Tagging @drchenquill, @the-golden-comet, @saturnine-saturneight, @illarian-rambling, @somethingclevermahogony

@ominous-feychild, @drchenquillleahnardo-da-veggie and @kaylinalexanderbooks.

[denimbex1986]

'Although the Doctor Who 60th-anniversary specials weren't as stuffed-to-the-gills with as many cameos as fans maybe would have liked, the final David Tennant and Catherine Tate special, “The Giggle,” did, seemingly create a new paradigm that could solve a mystery the show set into motion 10 years ago.

In “The Day of the Doctor,” the 11th Doctor (Matt Smith) met a seemingly much older incarnation of himself, known only as “The Curator,” played by 4th Doctor actor, Tom Baker. But how does the Doctor eventually become The Curator? The surprising ending of “The Giggle” may have the answer...

By the end of “The Giggle,” not only did we get two living versions of the Time Lord known as the Doctor — David Tennant’s 14th Doctor and Ncuti Gatwa’s new 15th Doctor — but each Doctor also got their own TARDIS. While the new Doctor flew off right away, the other Doctor decided to stay on Earth — perhaps indefinitely. Although we hear about the 14th Doctor taking Rose and Mel on all sorts of adventures (including Mars!) his overall plan is to keep things much more down-to-earth than usual. We even see the TARDIS parked in the backyard of the Noble-Temple home and are given the very clear impression that this other Doctor could remain on Earth for a very long time.

Having a second full-fledged version of the Doctor co-existing with the “regular” incumbent Doctor is certainly a new move for the series, but the storyline of “The Giggle” actually helps to smooth out various canon contradictions. As showrunner Russell T. Davies said on the aftershow, Doctor Who: Unleashed (available in the U.K.), one line from the Toymaker was meant to explain canon confusions with the Doctor’s personal timeline.

When the Toymaker says, “I made a jigsaw of your history,” this is supposed to mean that the Toymaker is responsible for various inconsistencies with the Doctor’s biography, including the idea he might be half-human (from the 1996 TV movie), the idea of the Timeless Child (from “The Timeless Children”), and, perhaps, even other vague plotlines like the idea of the Doctor becoming the Valeyard (“Trial of a Time Lord”) or the Doctor’s eventual death on Trenzalore (“Time of the Doctor.”) As Davies put it: “It just relaxes the rules to say he is whatever you want him to be.”

COULD THE 14TH DOCTOR REGENERATE INTO THE CURATOR?

One of the ways this is seems true is the notion that the Doctor will, at some future date, regenerate into another previous self, the face of Tom Baker’s 4th Doctor. In “The Day of the Doctor,” the Curator (played by Baker) told the 11th Doctor outright that, “in the years to come you might find yourself revisiting a few [old faces] but just the old favorites.”

With David Tennant’s 14th Doctor, we’ve now seen this happen outright. The 13th Doctor (Jodie Whittaker) regenerated and became David Tennant again. So, who's to say that at some point down the line, the 14th Doctor won’t regenerate and become... Sylvester McCoy again? Or Peter Davison? Or Jo Martin? Or, of course, Tom Baker?

None of this means this hypothetical event will ever be depicted on screen. The Curator has already had several off-screen adventures in the form of various Doctor Who audio dramas, which means the link between the bi-generation seen in “The Giggle” and the Curator may be made clear in that format.

Then again, the existence of the 14th Doctor does open up the possibility of an entire second future biography for the Doctor, which means, they could arrive in the form of the Curator, the long way around. For now, if fans have head-canon about the 14th Doctor ending up looking like Tom Baker, there’s literally nothing that’s happened on the show to suggest that we’re wrong.'

[themuse-if]

Hey, hey!!🤗

So, I was a little curious about a topic involving NFSW questions, but I wasn't sure if you were okay with that type of question, so no need to answer if you're uncomfortable.

I wanted to know what ROs are like when they are in makeout sessions with Mc, for example: are they more gentle and affectionate or are they more passionate and wild (if you know what I mean🤭😏). And also if possible, could polys routes be included in this scenario? (only if you want, of course)

Bye, bye!!

Hey! I am definitely ok with NSFW questions, romance is a big part of the story after all! I've honestly been waiting for this! I'll be using a scale of 6 emojis for spicy vs sweet levels.😚=sweet 🥵=spicy. Some may be all spice and others all sweet and some could be a mix of the two.

ONLY KEEP READING IF YOU WANT TO BECOME A GIGGLING, SQUEELING MESS! USE YOUR IMAGINATION TO CREATE VIVID SCENES WITH THIS INFORMATION AT YOUR OWN RISK! Then tell me about them in the comments. 😘

Roxanne/Robbie: Ro is definitely one to take the lead. They are a bit rough, MC will have hickeys everywhere from all the biting and sucking. Not only will Ro's lips be all over MC but their hands will too in their hair, on their chest, on their hips guiding MC into a slow deep grind...ok is it hot in here or is it just me. All in all I would say that Ro is down right sinful. 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Joleen/Johnny: Jo is a bit more of a mixed bag the moments leading up to each little make-out session will determine a lot. If MC was throwing heavy signals their way then Jo will take the hint and pin them down ready to get hot and heavy. If MC is being sweeter than cotton candy with little pecks and giggles then Jo will be to, with sweeter more romantic kisses. I would say that Jo likes to feed off of their partners energy and then aim to please. 😚😚😚🥵🥵🥵

Delphine/Desmond: De is naturally a nurturer, but I would say that they have some soft dom tendencies when messing around. They will have the obvious control leading and guiding MC's lips and body, but they will always read off of MC to make sure that they are comfortable. And if MC can handle it then expect them to get a little rough.😚🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Rina/Ren: R doesn't have a ton of experience so they will need MC to take the lead at first. Though they may move pretty slow at first after a while they wont be able to get enough of sharing soft and sensual alone time with MC. Study sessions and late night practice will turn into hushed make-out sessions in the dark corners of the library and practice studios. 😚😚😚😚🥵🥵

Everly/Everett: Eve is a performer through and through so you can be sure that they're going to put on a little show for MC. They'll memorize every touch and the sighs they bring out from MC, the same way they memorize lines for a play. They will observe and read MC like a book so that they can give them exactly what they need every time. 😚😚🥵🥵🥵🥵

Karla: Karla knows how to go with the flow. She'll take MC from soft sighs to barely able to catch their breathe, all with a lazy smirk on their face. Karla knows when to build up and take it back down, moving with the rhythm regardless of if there's music playing. 😚😚😚🥵🥵🥵

Faye: Faye may be an edgy cool girl but she really is a softy at heart. She super sweet and adores the little moments between long languid kisses and feather light caresses. Don't be surprised by her looking at MC's every detail with those icy blue eyes. 😚😚😚😚😚🥵

Sebastien: Seb is for lack of a better word, suave. Once he takes off his glasses revealing those deep brown eyes, MC knows they're in for it. MC will be melting from the eye contact alone. And his grip on MC's waist, hips, ass...oh my lord 😳. The rough scrape of his stubble matching the way he holds MC so tight they can't tell were he starts and they begin. 😚😚🥵🥵🥵🥵

Maxine: Max is sugar, spice, and everything nice! They know MC really well and use that to their advantage. They've known MC for longer than they can even remember and their feelings run just as deep. Max craves MC just as much as they cherish them. Everything feel easy and seamless, one second the two are a mess of giggles and the next they're grabbing at each other's clothes. Years of what ifs have built up to the type of passion Max can only share with their best friend. 😚😚😚🥵🥵🥵

Silas: Ah Silas our, friendly and self controlled, Resident Advisor. There's something so sexy about breaking the rules. If Silas is making out with MC, his advisee, then he's all but shattered them. You can expect things to get hot, heavy quickly once he's reached his breaking point, once he's desperate for MC. He'll have MC's back against the wall and make quick work of satisfying both their needs. Maybe he'll take things a bit further than making out, just to get MC out of his system. Then again, maybe he wont be able to stop himself from wanting more than just a one time taste. 😚😚🥵🥵🥵🥵

I'll let you use your imagination for the poly routes given what you've learned about them as individuals. Have fun 🤭🤭🤭

The Rebel Rejects:😚🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

The Exes (Faye + Karla):😚😚😚😚🥵🥵

[supernaturalsupernova]

The Great War — a Destiel one-shot

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Style : fluff

Word count : 4974

Heaven was a strange place to Dean. That was all that he could think about this whole new world to navigate in the first few days of his arrival. When he had arrived, Bobby was the one to welcome him with open arms and a couple cold ones, throwing around an ‘idjit’ here and there as he told the newly deceased soul to the new domain. There, on the front of a wooden porch with Bobby, Dean was caught up on the affairs of heaven as well as who was running what and where.

Dean had learnt that his parents were nearby, happy and co-existing in the Nephilim-created utopia. He learnt that Ashe had been reunited with Jo and Ellen. Kevin was up here too, doing well and nerding out with some others he had known in life. So was Charlie, who had been reunited with her parents. He knew how Sammy was doing to, making use of some special treatment from Jack to check in on his little brother every now and then. Hell, even the boy himself – someone who Dean had thought of as a son despite their rocky beginning – made his heart squeeze a little knowing that he was doing a good job at this whole God thing.

Dean was almost at peace knowing that his loved ones were safe and cared for under his adoptive son’s care. Almost. However, there was one name from the list of people who he cherished that he didn’t quite receive any closure on. Castiel – the ex-God titled ‘self-hating angel of Thursday’ and ex-angel of said lord. Castiel. Dean’s best friend and the one person who he admitted to needing when he was alive. The one who was basically Jack’s first father and the reason why Dean had given the Nephilim boy so many chances, despite his instincts to do otherwise.

Dean would never admit it out-loud, but the angel took up a lot of his thoughts. Moreso than his brother, his parents or anyone else. He internally blamed Bobby for this. Jack too. Dean could remember the feeling of hope rise in his chest and swell when he had first heard Bobby utter the words ‘Cas helped’. Meaning that Cas had been pulled from the Empty, most likely thanks to Jack. He remembered embracing the boy later that day when he had adjusted to his own dwellings on this heavenly plane – a mix-and-mash of his old childhood home and the Bunker. He had held him tight that evening and thanked him for bringing him back from the Empty. He had sat with Jack that evening and cracked open some beers just like Bobby had done with him earlier that day.

Cas – the angel who saw Dean worthy enough to sacrifice himself, really the only person to deem Dean worthy of anything. The angel who confessed how Dean had changed him, an angel of heaven and God, for the better. How Dean, a human, made a celestial being care for the molecules that were supposed to be beneath him. Thoughts of Cas ran through his brain on a loop, thoughts much like these. Dean had been up here for about three weeks now – silently grateful to Jack for keeping time consistent with Earth’s. Three weeks and not a single peep or flutter of a feather from the new God’s dad.

‘Stupid angel with his stupid wings and halo and harp,’ Dean had thought as his hands on Baby’s steering wheel drummed impatiently against the leather. ‘Where in the hell could he even be?’ This was one of the many drives Dean had been taking, cruising down the long stretch of road and woods to clear his mind and thoughts – all of which led back to Castiel. Dean thought of the man, dressed in an account’s garb and eyes so blue and bright it rivalled Heaven’s blue skies. He thought of how much he had sacrificed and how much he had cared.

“I cared for it all because of you… You changed me, Dean… I love you”

Dean’s hands clenched around the steering wheel, pushing down the ache in his chest as he swallowed thickly. His eyes narrowed at the road, trying to focus on the yellow lines and horizon ahead instead of the echoing confession in his head. Despite being in heaven, he still had many thoughts from life replay in his head and sometimes plague his mind. He understood why though – to maintain a soul’s sense of self and keep the things that made them as humans in life. He had silently praised Jack for that subtle touch; however, the man was sure that it was Castiel’s idea.

The past three weeks had consisted of Dean replaying that moment and many others of him and Cas, trying to come to terms with what he was feeling and why. Hell, he even went to Charlie to discuss what was going on in his head because… well, that’s basically his little sister who also happened to know a thing or two about non-straight confessions and maybe-possibly-somewhat late realised feelings for someone of the same gender. She had looked him in the face as he stood at the door of her place – a fantasy looking homestead – and told him it was about time he realised this which left him baffled.

Charlie, bless her soul as it was not-so-much resting thanks to her idiotic brother figure who was having an afterlife sexuality crisis/realisation. It was then and there that Dean had the realisation that he was, in-fact, bisexual (he honestly suspected it after watching Dr. Sexy on screen for a good chunk of his young adulthood), and that he actually loved Castiel – and not just in a best friend kind of way. Charlie had even joked about how Sam now owed her in a bet because Dean had realised in the afterlife and not while he was alive.

Dean had gone home that evening, replaying even more memories of the two of them with the new realisation making him come to terms why he held certain emotions to certain memories – the fondness, the hurt, the adoration, the betrayal – and why he felt it so deep within his core. Dean was also kind of annoyed as to why no one seemed to confirm his suspicions about himself. It would have made all this a whole lot easier, and maybe Dean wouldn’t have been so stunned with the angel’s last words and said it back. Maybe Cas wouldn’t have had to be sent to Super Hell.

“You’re an asshole, you know that right?” Dean muttered to himself, directing his words to the angel who had not graced the man with his presence in all the time he had been there. Dean didn’t know why he was speaking out loud, as if Cas could hear. He wasn’t sure if the angel was still able to hear his words or thoughts that concerned him. “Can’t even show up and say hi… Just dump an ‘I love you’ and get ganked… Feathered prick...”

Dean had a couple theories as to why Cas wasn’t showing up so soon – theories that varied between ‘I’m sorry, Dean. I was helping my son reset the universe and the alternate realities’ and ‘I don’t know how to face you after having a full homo moment.’ Both of which seemed reasonable, as long as the angel wasn’t ditching Dean for bees again. Then he would be really pissed.

“Um… Hello, Dean.”

Dean almost wrapped the literally-heaven-sent Impala around a tree as soon as he heard it, applying the emergency brakes and brought the car to a squeaking halt. The familiar gruff voice and slightly endearing tone that he had missed rang through his ears, his brain trying to determine whether or not he had hallucinated that or had a very vivid memory. It wasn’t until he turned to the passenger seat that his idea of hallucinating was thrown out the window.

Sat in the passenger seat was Castiel, looking at Dean curiously and cautiously, as if calculating his moves as a means of not scaring the man away or causing him to throw a punch. Dean took in Cas’s appearance – still adorning the suit get-up but ditching the coat and tie, the top two buttons of the wrinkled white shirt open which gave Dean a glimpse of his collarbones and a little lower. Cas’s hair was lightly tousled as well, just like when Dean had first met the angel in that abandoned warehouse all those years ago, as if Cas had spent the whole earlier part of the day running his fingers through it. Dean had a millisecond’s worth of a thought of him wanting to run his fingers through the unkept nest of dark hair. Dean had stared long enough to take note of the greying hairs on Castiel’s temples and five-o-clock shadow on his face.

Dean gawked, his eyes practically sticking out of his head as he stared at the angel. He watched at the angel shifted in the passenger seat, as if he was also unsure as to why or how he was there. Dean blinked, his eyelashes fluttering around the shocked green eyes that were being met with the same slightly squinted, bright and blue eyes he had been thinking about earlier. ‘This would be so much easier if I didn’t realise all this stuff… Dammit Cas,’ he thought to himself as he shook the shock from his features.

“Cas..? Is that actually you?” he said, disbelief coating every word uttered before he realised that this was actually Castiel sitting beside him. The tension from the worry about Cas’s whereabouts seemed to have released itself, his shoulders feeling less heavily. “Dude! Where the hell have you been!?”

Castiel scrunched his nose slightly from the volume of Dean’s voice but couldn’t help but give the man a small smile, the expression soft and easy. “Hello, Dean,” Cas greeted again, leaning against the seat, his posture turned slightly towards Dean. It was familiar, and slightly domestic – like a husband who knew he was in trouble with his spouse. Dean pushed that thought from his head, subconsciously cursing out Charlie who had referred to Castiel as Dean-certified husband material.

“My apologies, Dean,” Cas said, his voice still gruff yet soft. “For flying in unannounced, and for taking so long to welcome you.”

“Flying?” Dean repeated, still trying to process the fact that he was sitting in the Impala with Cas just like old times – except this time with a lot more staring and hearts beating out of chests.

Cas nodded, smiling more. He was being patient with him, Dean had noted. “Flying,” Cas confirmed. “Jack restored my wings after pulling me out of the Empty. But rest assured, I will do my best to not fly in unannounced, Dean.”

Dean was really starting to dislike this whole ‘being-in-love-with-Cas’ thing because of just how much he liked hearing Cas say his name. How much he had missed it. “Man, I don’t care,” Dean caught himself saying before a smile stretched over his face. He could deal with his feelings later – right now all that mattered was the fact that Cas was here. Safe and very much alive for an angel who has died twice.

Dean reached over to Cas and pulled him into a massive hug, catching the angel off guard. He felt Cas’s arms come up and wrap around him, a hand on the upper part of Dean’s back with his fingers brushing against the short brunette hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. Dean could smell Cas as well – sea breeze laundry detergent, a little bit of sweat, and…

“Why do you smell like honey?” Dean queried, quirking an eyebrow as he pulled away slightly to look at Castiel, who couldn’t help but purse his lips as a soft flush raised on the back of his neck. “Oh my God, you picked the bees.”

Castiel looked at him confused, tilting his head slightly. “Bees? Dean, you are not making any sense,” he said. Dean’s face dropped slightly as he realised what he had said, silently cursing himself out for somehow seeing insects as some sort of competition. Dean was competitive though – apparently now reaching a point where he was willing to subconsciously beef with bees for a celestial being’s time and attention.

Dean cleared his throat and shook his head as he pulled his arms away from Cas. “Never mind that,” he said, picking up the usual Dean swagger as he turned himself so his body was facing Castiel’s, his elbow rested atop the backrest of the front seats. “What took you so long, buddy? Finally couldn’t keep away from my charm and face?”

Cas rolled his eyes in response to Dean’s antics, a very human thing he had picked over the years from the Winchesters. However, the faintest amused look graced his features. “You could say that,” he admitted. “I would have seen you sooner, but Jack needed some help with the reset of the universe and the ones parallel to this one. And because…” Cas trailed off, as if trying to find the appropriate words.

“Because you told me you loved me and ate dirt?” Dean finished, the words leaving his mouth before he even realised what he had said. He could already hear Charlie, and probably Sam too if he were here, pestering him about his choice of words. This got a surprised chuff from Cas, his eyes widening slightly and the faintest flush cross his cheeks.

“Well… Yes, you could say that,” Cas confirmed, looking away from Dean and staring at the tarred road ahead, the asphalt unmoving. “I wasn’t too sure about how you would react to seeing me now. And I never did give you the time to provide a response before I got swallowed by nothingness incarnate.” He turned back to Dean and offered another smile, genuine and fond. “I wanted to give you time – to process what I said. I did mean all of it.”

Dean could help but feel his heart flutter, his chest swelling with a whole crap-ton of feelings that he didn’t know he had the capacity to feel in the first place. ‘Damn feelings,’ he thought to himself. “Well… I have processed everything and what you said back then,” he said, feeling a little nervous tickle in his gut. “I mean really, Cas, you could’ve at least given a guy some time to respond or something.”

Castiel honestly looked a little stunned at the statement, tilting his head once again. “Respond? I didn’t…,” he trailed off again, as if trying to comprehend the concept of Dean having anything to say in response to what he had confessed. “Dean… What was it that you wanted to say?”

Well shit.

Dean didn’t think that Cas would actually ask him that. Then again, Dean wasn’t doing a lot of thinking at the moment. He was running on pure butterflies and a microdose of adrenaline. If Dean was being honest, there wasn’t anything that he could have said in the moment it all happened. Everything he had wanted to say all came from revelations he had made about himself in the past few weeks.

Revelations that took way too long to come to the surface and consisted of what was – in Charlie’s words – years’ worth of pathetic and unconscious pining. He remembered how Charlie had smacked his shoulder after Dean had confessed to keeping Cas’s coat when he had exploded with the Leviathans and thought he was dead, and then again when he had grieved Cas’s death more than his father when Jack was born. ‘That’s so lesbian yearning coded, you dickwad,’ she had told him, exasperated. ‘I’m amazed that you didn’t realise sooner.’

Yeah, Dean was pretty surprised how blaringly obvious his feelings for Cas was. It was like everyone else could see it except for him. He had thought back to his life on Earth and how Balthazar had called Castiel the ‘angel in the dirty trench coat who was in love with him’. Apparently, he was dense to Cas’s feelings too, not just his own. Dean wasn’t sure if that was more comforting or concerning.

“I just…” Crap. Feelings. Dean was never good at talking about his stupid feelings. “Jesus…”

Dean felt a hand cover his, the touch warm and gentle. He looked at the hand over his own, felt how it squeezed slightly bigger one, and turned to look at the holder. Castiel looked at him, his face adorned with the softest and most loving expression he had seen on the angel’s face. The same look that he had given Dean when he had uttered those words. The expression held more tenderness in the light of the afternoon sun, a light breeze shifting Castiel’s already messy hair. There were no threats here, no Billie chasing after them with their lives at risk. They were simply existing in the moment, just being.

‘Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being... I love you…’

“Its okay, Dean. Take your time. You have all the time you need,” Cas said, giving Dean’s hand a squeeze again. His hold was firm, and his words were almost commanding in tone despite having the same threat level of a confused kitten in regard to his appearance. “Or if you’d like me to return later, I can do that too. You can collect your thoughts.”

This was enough to snap Dean out of his trance that was concentrated on Castiel’s had and the feeling of his grip on Dean. Dean squeezed Cas’s hand back and minutely shifted their joined hands closer to his side of the front seat. “Dammit Cas, you just got here. I’m not losing you again.” The hoarse words just slipped from his mouth but Dean wasn’t going to say anything or apologise for it.

Castiel’s eyes softened and he placed his other hand over the already entwined hands, giving a firm squeeze of reassurance. The reassurance worked, even if Dean wouldn’t admit it out loud in this moment. It kept him grounded, Cas’s subtle way of telling him he was there – in the flesh, next to Dean and very much hot alive. It was a strange connection that they had. Dean suspected it was because was the one to yank his soul out of hell and developed this ‘profound bond’. “Dean, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay right here if you need me to.”

They had this way of communicating, making use of just body language, facial expressions and small touches alone to get big messages across. Dean was grateful for it and grateful for Cas because the two of them knew how much Dean sucked at communicating his feelings. Flirting with girls at a bar? Easy-peasy, slice of pie. However, talking about why he was feeling a certain way? Shoot him in the head, it would be less agonising. Dean guessed that Castiel was able to adapt his behaviour and mannerisms to Dean’s needs in the moment, but they both knew that if need be, Cas would find one way or another to get Dean to talk.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean whispered, before chuckling to himself softly and looking at the angel sitting across from him. “Yeah. Stay. I mean, you just got here, man.” God, Dean felt awkward now. His head was rushing, and his heart was beating out of his chest. He was pretty sure that if he wasn’t already dead, he would’ve died of a heart attack by now. ‘Is this the gay panic thing Charlie was yapping about?’

Cas nodded and kept his firm hold on Dean’s hands, his thumb stroking the back of his hand almost hesitantly as if he were testing the waters. When Dean had shown no signs of dislike towards the affection, he circled his thumb with a bit more purpose, his calloused finger against Deans skin. This whole thing felt so new to the hunter – the softness, the closeness, the very obvious feelings that were basically radiating off of Castiel.

They stayed like this for a few moments, just looking at each other and observing. Waiting for someone (Dean) to say something. “Gotta say, its good to see you. Even if it took so long for your feathered ass to come say hello,” Dean finally said. This got sparked a chuckle from Cas, his eyes twinkling slightly. God, they were so blue.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to act casual, trying to keep his pulse from giving him away, but his heart was pounding loud and insistent, like it was about to burst out of his chest. “You better stay around this time, you bastard,” he muttered, more to himself than to Cas, barely louder than a whisper. It came out rougher, rawer than he’d intended. He knew Cas had heard it by the way he had seen his face soften.

Cas’s blue eyes locked onto Dean’s green ones with that quiet, intense focus—the kind of gaze that always made Dean feel as though he had been stripped bare and seen, like Cas could look right into the parts of him Dean spent his whole life burying. Which was sort of the case as Cas had seen his soul in its most pure state and rebuilt his body. Every curve, and every crevice. Had placed every single bone and muscle back into place. Painted every freckle back onto his body and face.

Cas didn’t move. He just stayed there, watching Dean with the patience that could last for multiple lifetimes. The weight of it was both comforting and terrifying at the same time, as if Cas was some unshakable force that was willing to stand by his side for forever if Dean would have asked him to. And that was what scared him, maybe even more than the battles during the multiple apocalypses, more than the monsters he had faced since his childhood. Having something—someone—so steady, so willing to be there for him, to wait for him, even when he couldn’t figure out why anyone would.

Dean tightened his grip around Cas’s hand, feeling the warmth, the solid, rough texture of it. Cas had hands that were strong, sure, but they held him with a gentleness that took Dean by surprise every time. It was comforting in a way knowing that Cas was a strategist and soldier of the old Heaven, who had fought ancient and centuries-long wars, yet he held Dean’s hand as if it was the most fragile thing in all of existence. It was more than a touch—it was something grounding, anchoring him in a way he hadn’t let anyone do in a long time. Cas had been there for him through so much, through the good, the bad, the downright ugly. Every time Dean tried to shove him away, Cas had stayed, loyal and stubborn, refusing to leave him to drown in his own darkness.

He glanced up, his gaze meeting Cas’s. He was sure Cas could see right through him; into all the pieces he tried to hide. He wanted to look away, to hide the vulnerability that was seeping out of his form, but he couldn’t. Cas’s eyes were soft, steady, that faint glimmer of hope in them that Dean had seen so many times, hope that Dean could never quite shake, no matter how hard he had tried. Dean felt his chest tightening yet again with all the things he’d never said. All the years he’d convinced himself that caring was a weakness, that needing anyone was a liability. Words he had locked away so tight that they had nearly drowned him now rose to the surface, fighting to be free.

“Cas…” His voice cracked, and he cursed himself for it. He wasn’t good at this. Hell, he was the farthest thing from good at this. But Cas didn’t move, didn’t look away. If anything, he seemed to lean in closer, his thumb still tracing small, comforting circles over the back of Dean’s hand. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt like a lifeline, like Cas was telling him that whatever he needed to say, whatever he needed to feel, it was okay. Cas would be there, just like he always was. Cas was always going to be there for Dean just like he always had been.

Dean took a shaky breath, his chest aching under the weight of everything he’d held back. “You’re not… you’re not going anywhere, right?” he forced the words out, rough and vulnerable, and he hated how raw they sounded, how exposed they left him. He needed to be sure. He needed to know that Cas wasn’t going to explode, disappear, die again or lose his memory of Dean again. But Cas’s grip on his hand tightened, firm and steady, grounding him in a way that only Cas ever could.

“No, Dean,” Cas murmured, his voice low, calm, full of that endless patience that Dean didn’t deserve but couldn’t let go of. “Just like I said, I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

There was a long silence, the kind that seemed to stretch and settle around them like a comforting weight. Just the two of them in the quiet, the light filtering through the window casting a soft glow across Cas’s face. Dean felt every inch of the space between them, every second of silence carrying the weight of all the things he had never said, all the times where he had nearly lost Cas, all the times he thought he had have to face a world and it trials without him. He couldn’t do it – not anymore. He didn’t want to. He didn’t need to. Cas was here.

Dean’s hand moved on its own, slipping around the back of Cas’s neck, his fingers brushing over the soft skin there, feeling the warmth – the solid, real presence of him. He felt Cas’s breath hitch, saw the way his eyes flickered. The softness, the familiarity made Dean’s heart stutter. His thumb traced Cas’s jaw, Dean’s own calloused fingers against the salt-and-pepper stubble on Cas’s face. He could feel the quiet vulnerability in Cas’s eyes, the way he looked at him, like he was waiting for Dean to decide. A warrior of Heaven, an entity that had played God and raised a new one, was comfortable enough to be vulnerable with him. To love him.

Before he could second-guess himself, Dean leaned forward, closing the distance between them, his lips finding Cas’s in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, cautious, like he was testing the waters, as well as half-expecting Cas to pull back or disappear, like he always feared he would. But Cas didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into the kiss, meeting Dean halfway. His hand lifted itself to cup Dean’s cheek, his slender fingers brushing through his hair with a tenderness, a level of adoration that made Dean feel like he was coming apart at the seams in the best way possible.

The kiss deepened, the hesitation giving way to something raw and something real. All the years of buried feelings and unsaid words were finally spilling out. Dean’s hands slid into Cas’s hair, pulling him closer and holding him tight, needing him in a way he’d never let himself need anybody else. Castiel’s touch was tender at first as it went on he kissed Dean like he was lost in the desert for forty days and forty nights, and Dean was his oasis. His fingers tracing lines along Dean’s jaw, his thumb brushing over his cheek as he held the other man’s face firmly and desperately – as if telling him that he was here, that he was real, and that he wasn’t going anywhere. Not again. Never again.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing heavily, Dean didn’t move an inch. He had kept his forehead pressed against Cas’s, both of their eyes closed as Dean was trying to ground himself in the feeling of Castiel’s presence – in his warmth, the way he was still here, and the fact that he still with him. It felt fragile, like something that could break if he held on too tight, but he couldn’t let go. Not now. Not ever.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them, simple and honest and more terrifying than anything he’d ever faced. He should had said it back then, back when Cas had confessed and sacrificed himself for Dean’s life. He should have known that Castiel was always someone who meant so much more. Castiel should have at least known how Dean felt, even if the man didn’t know himself at the time. “God, Cas, I really love you. Like… a lot.”

But Cas’s thumb brushed against his cheek once again and chuckled breathlessly, his voice soft and filled with that quiet certainty that had always grounded Dean. “I’ve always known, Dean,” Cas murmured, his voice steady and sure. “And I love you too. I always have. From the minute I touched your soul. I knew you would have me wrapped around your finger.”

Dean let out a shaky breath, a laugh caught somewhere between disbelief and relief, feeling something loosen in his chest, something he’d kept locked away for too long. For once, he let himself believe it, let himself hold onto the warmth of Cas’s touch, the steady presence of him, the knowledge that somehow, against all odds, Cas had chosen to stay. That Cas’s happiness was in just existing, in being, with Dean at his side – something that was so foreign to him once upon a time. However, for the first time in his life – well, afterlife – Dean let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he deserved it.

[fandomsarefamily1966]

Character ask: Samwise Gamgee

😊 I'm surprised most of these are LOTR related, but I'm not complaining

Character ask: Samwise Gamgee (The Lord of the Rings)

Favorite thing about them: His undying loyalty towards Frodo. While everyone else gets separated from him through no fault of their own, Sam is with him the whole way through, and will not leave his side no matter what happens, which plays a major part in the quest's completion.

Least favorite thing about them: His temper. It doesn't really flare up all that often- mainly whenever it looks like someone's insulting or about to hurt Frodo- but it does keep him from playing nice when it would be a smart idea, like with Faramir.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I love plants.

*I'm very loyal to and would do anything to keep my loved ones safe.

*Once I set my mind to something, I'll try my best to see it though.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm female.

*I'm not a hobbit.

*I'm not as good a cook as he is.

Favorite line: Again, there are many, but I'll try to keep it simple.

When he talks to Frodo about his conversation with the elves:

"Leave him! I never mean to. I am going with him, if he climbs to the Moon, and if any of these Black Riders try to stop him, they'll have Sam Gamgee to reckon with."

His response to Frodo's prediction that he'll be either a great wizard or a warrior:

"I hope not. I don't want to be neither!"

When Frodo can't go any further, so he carries him the rest of the way:

"Then let us be rid of it, once and for all! I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you! Come on!"

The very last line of the series, after he sees Frodo off for the very last time:

"Well, I'm back."

brOTP: The other hobbits, especially Frodo.

OTP: Rosie.

nOTP: Sauron or Gollum.

Random headcanon: He's just as traumatized from the quest as Frodo is, it just manifests differently, and in a much less obvious way- his need for things to go back to normal as quickly as possible, as he does get married and has no less than THIRTEEN children rather quickly.

Unpopular opinion: His and Frodo's friendship is amazing, but I wish people would focus on his relationships outside of Frodo more. I also feel the same way about him that I do with Jo: I love both of them very much, and they deserve all the love they get, but they're also a bit overhyped, especially at the expense of my beloveds Frodo and Beth.

Song I associate with them:

"Candle On the Water" from the movie Pete's Dragon.

Favorite picture of them:

Sean Astin in the early 2000s films:

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

Hi Patchy! I really fancy Bakugou, but I don’t know what to do! I need a potion to help me💕

Well hello Jo, how sweet of you to drop by! I always enjoy your company, so I appreciate you sparing a moment to allow me it.

As for your predicament, I think it is rather obvious your feelings for him; anyone could see it. So a potion may not be what you need, but rather some to help you see a little better.

The Crown-Prince Bakugou was many things. He was strong and capable, able to hold his own in any fight or tame any beast. He was smart, able to properly strategize anything to come out a winner; something the many knights in his armies would be grateful for. And he was brash, bold unlike anything you had ever seen - it was refreshing, though his anger did land him in some turmoil every now and then.

But romantic was not one them.

He was never one for flowery words, or to waste his time on such frivolous things like courting, to worry about such feelings of vulnerability. For Bakugou, he saw them as something beneath him. Marriages were that of strategy and making do with the options he had, he saw no need to be involved with love and the complications it brought.

You understood his stance, the reasons he was so cold and harsh towards any form of courting, why he would harshly brush pass any lord of lady wishing for a moment of his attention without even giving them a second glance. He wanted no weaknesses, wanted to give no one the chance to see him vulnerable, to allow them to opportunity to betray him.

You yourself knew how difficult it was to find those that would be loyal and kind to you without a price; how they would quickly build you up before tearing you down for a chance of higher status or coin. You had land people wanted and found it suffocating most of the time, you could only imagine what it would be like to have a throne.

But life was full of surprises.

Surprises like the gifts that started to appear on your doorstep, or windowsill, or even balcony. Tiny trinkets and jewlery boxes that were so beautifully crafted to make wonderful decorations, jewels and gems that were cut to perfection and lined with gold so you may adorn them on your neck, ears, and wrists; and dresses that were tailored magnificently to your figure, clear they were only meant to be worn by you.

You were blown away by not only the lavishness of these gifts, clearly by a generous heart, but by how romantic the whole situation was. You had a secret admirer, one you never thought you would ever have, lest of all one that seemed to smitten by you.

Over time, naturally, you grew curious as to who it would be. Searching high and low in the areas your gift was left for traces or glimpses of the gift giver. Carefully inspect any handwriting, or small details, of the gifts left to you to find any clues. And at times, even going to the shops and asking the keeps there which the person might be.

It all led to deadends. You were no step closer of knowing who the your admirer was than if you did nothing at all. You were beginning to grow desperate, your curiosity gnawing at your brain and making it impossible to think of anything else; so, you went to the one place you knew most people went in their times of need.

The peddler left you both calm and uneasy; the way she seemed to know what you were thinking made you anxious over her intentions, though her gentle reassurance made you stay long enough to get what she claimed you needed - a small magnifying glass.

“The person you wish to find is hard to read, unless you look between the lines.” she told you, closing your hand around the small trinket she placed in your palm “This will help you see what you couldn’t before and will help guide you to them.”

You left her shop unsure, but hopeful, as your gripped tighter to the item in your palm and made you way back home; eagerly awaiting the chance to use it; and that chance came sooner than you thought, as upon your doorstep was another parcel, wrapped so elegenatly as the gifts before, waiting for you.

You wasted no time bringing the magnifying glass to your eye, squinting and adjusting your hand so you may properly see through it, awaiting to find the clue you were looking for; and it came as glowing footprints.

You let out a breathless laugh as you looked for the trail, and followed it once you found it, not caring about propriety as you practically ran through courtyards and through gardens to make your way to where they were; stopping on when your trail ended and you collided with a sturdy chest.

Hands reached out to stedy you as you stumbled, trying your best to hold onto your magical trinket only to watch it fall to the ground; though you in that moment you cared not for the shattering of the glass that met your ears, as familiar gruff voice overtook it; and a pair of vermilion captured your attention.

“It’s you…” You whispered out, a small smile gracing your face as you gazed up at him - not listening at all to his comment of watching where you were going “You’re my admirer!”

You watched a look of surprise flush his face, cheeks turning rosy in a manner you had never seen before as his head turned away from yours; though his grip on your forearms never slacking as he continues to hold onto you. You watched with baited breathe as he shook his head before a soft chuckle passed his lips, his eyes finally meeting yours again.

“Yeah…. I am.”

What a shame about that magnifying glass... those are hard to come by even for me. Though I suppose now, given the circumstances, that you are in no need of it anymore, so I shan't try to replace it.

[roxannepolice]

*drops in through the ceiling* Greetings,

For the character ask game I once again humbly request Delgado (or if someone has already requested him, three). I desperately need more threegado content in my life. Favourite married but at the same time divorced couple ;p

Thank you once again/in advance 😊

Seeing your content, especially your ask games, always leaves me giggling (or alternatively crying) Your head cannons are always so brilliant and I will - without question accept them as cannon.

Farewell and have the best week

*vanishes*

Awww, thank you so much! For the kind words and because married couples shouldn't be separated (and also because headcanons overlap), here's the both of them!

1: sexuality headcanon - I suppose they're both demisexual? As in they are the duo that established the Master as Doctorsexual and the Doctor as having a libido rise in the Master's vicinity, so I guess that's the closest term human sexology has for what they have?

2: otp - each other, of course, they very very married <3

3: brotp - for Three it's definitely the Brigadier, for Delgado... this is a bit of a stretch of brotp on parental relations, but the way he accepted that the Doctor adopted Jo so now he too has a human daughter is everything

4: notp - I get a bit of a rise when they are shipped with other regenerations (as in Three with other Masters and Delgado with other Doctors); don't get me wrong they'd get along just fine with other faces but they are too married for it to go into shipping territory; I do see them giving NuWho thoscheis intense couples councelling, though

5: first headcanon that pops into my head - Three is a huge fan of David Bowie (this extends to all Doctors tbh, where the hell do you think Ten got his cheekbones?), with whom he struck an acquaintance and keeps playing him alien music (Ziggy Stardust is very much a real person); he brought the Master to one of their (time travelling, he wanted to prove a point) meetings, and within a few days Bowie wrote The Man Who Sold The World

6: favorite line from this character - this evolved into a full blown meta, but the The point is that one must rule or serve. That's a basic law of life. Why do you hesitate, Doctor? Surely it's not loyalty to the Time Lords, who exiled you on one insignificant planet? - You'll never understand, will you? I want to see the universe, not rule it. exchange is one of peak moments for the entire show; the opposing yet fundamentally not contradictory philosophies; the desperation to reach each other; the could have beens and could never bes...

7: one way in which I relate to this character - I too like James Bond movies, but believe they would benefit from Bond wearing more frills and velvets and Blofeld having a beard

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character - with Delgado, the man eating sofa might have been just the teensiest bit too much? with Three, being chummy with Chairman Mao definitely calls for attention 🙃

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? - Delgado is probably the closest the Master ever got to being a cinnamon roll, yes he was absolutely established as a villain, but his ongoing politeness to every being he's about to subjugate to his will deserves proper appreciation :3; the Doctors generally osciallate right in the middle of the cinnamon roll-problematic fave spectrum, with some going really far into the latter and none going very far into the former, that said Three is one of the few who's marginally more on the cinnamon roll side

[bealittleimprobable]

Put That Genre Back Where You Found It.

I've grumbled already about "But he just shouldn't have died by their own rules", but I've just remembered someone illustrated that better than me years ago.

They fucked the BDQ!

In One Fine Day In The Middle of the Night by Christopher Brookmyre, a character is discussing the "rules" of action movies. I've put the full text under the cut, but the short version is: films set up how dangerous the action is. You can have films with huge amounts of violence, bullets everywhere but the people rarely get hit. Or you can have the kind of movie where if a gun is fired, someone is getting at least seriously injured. This is the Bullet Deadliness Quotient - low or high.

What you can't do is swap back and forth.

And OFMD swapped back and forth. We've established you can be stabbed in the left side and walk away fine. We've established you can be beaten "to death" by your crew, and be back on your feet through the Power of Hand Holding. They specifically set up adult cartoon levels of violence for the crew - things might get messy, but you'll be up and about in no time.

That's the wrong tone if what you want to give us is the quiet, side-clutching "I don't think I'm making it out of this one, boss".

So even putting aside everything about whether they "should" have killed Izzy, they shouldn't have been able to by the physics of their own story.

[From One Fine Day In The Middle of The Night by Christopher Brookmyre.]

… 11:08 … fipr charter coach … five seats doon …

“Good guys get shot in the shoulder,” Ally was explaining. “It’s the first rule of engagement for action movies. Allows that aw-naw-he’s-been-hit fright moment, renders the hero apparently vulnerable, gives everybody a quality wince, but crucially does no real harm. Headshot is obviously oot, as is the chest; leg-wound limits mobility, stomach puts you on a dead-withoot-medical-attention timelock, and forearm is just too wimpy. Thus, the upper-arm-to-shoulder area gets it every time, and doesnae affect either the aiming or punching ability of the aformentioned good guy. Bruce Willis in ‘Die Hard’ — bullet in the shoulder courtsey of Alexander Godunov. Michael Beihn in ‘Terminator’, courtesy of Arnie. Linda Hamilton in ‘T2’.”

“That was a stabbing weapon.”

“True enough, but same difference. Arnie himself in ‘Commando’.”

“Grenade-blast, if I remember correctly,” Mrs Laurence clarified. “But nonetheless, it was the shoulder.”

“Indeed. Then there’s Arnie again in ‘Predator’. Danny Glover in ‘Predator 2’. Danny Glover again in ‘Lethal Weapon’. Carrie Fisher in ‘Return of the Jedi’. The golden era was, of course, your Joel Silver Eighties — I suppose that should be Silver era, shouldn’t it? — but the rules are still bein’ observed today. Nick Cage in ‘Con-Air’, Guy Pearce in ‘LA Confidential’, Robert De Niro in ‘Ronin’.”

“Yes, but it goes back a long way before the Eighties. Before cinema, even. Might I offer Jim Hawkins in ‘Treasure Island’?”

“Of course. Knife through the celluloid sweetspot on the mast of the ‘Hispaniola’. An’ if we’re openin’ it up to books, there’s Frodo Baggins in ‘Lord of the Rings’, with the added discomfort of the blade breakin’ aff an’ giein’ him the Orc equivalent of tetanus for a good two hunner pages. But it’s important to stress that this is a convention we’re talkin’ aboot, not a cliché. Admittedly, there’ an awfy fine line between the two, but good guys gettin’ shot in the shoulder is the right side of it.”

“What would be a cliché, then?”

“Eh, let me think. Aye. Bad guys comin’ back for one last fright. See, your hero gettin’ wounded is part of the mechanics of the story — the baddie comin’ back is just a cheap shock. Fortunately, the ‘Scream’ movies literally put a bullet in the head of that wan.”

Ally was well into his stride. He was feeling buoyed by the experience of having a sensible conversation with Mrs Laurence: it constituted valid, independent confirmation of having achieved grown-up status. Never mind jobs, money, wives or weans: you knew you were a man when you could contradict your former English teacher without her giving you a punishment exercise.

Well, not that sensible a conversation, maybe, but an enjoyable one. Mrs L had surprised him by confessing her devotion to action flicks, unwittingly triggering an onslaught of Ally’s in-depth theses on the genre. This was something that seldom required much provocation, and this time he was really going for it, making the most of that Vader-to-Kenobi moment: “Now I am the master.”

“You know, I never really had you down for a post-structuralist, Alastair,” she said.

Ally laughed, thinking back to all the things Mrs Laurence had called him in his time. That had not been one of them. It seemed he wasn’t the only one pleasantly surprised by their mutual civility.

“Ach, naw,” he told her. “This isnae deconstructionism, it’s pure, anorak-class obsessiveness. Aw the theorisin’ goes right oot the windae when I’m actually watchin’ a film. I want to get carried along for the ride, which is where cliches ruin it, but conventions are part of the structure.”

“Suspension of disbelief.”

“Aye. That kinna thing. I’ll swallow any scenario, as long as the film sticks to its own bullet-deadliness quotient.”

“Its what?”

“An action film establishes its own rules of gunplay. In some, every bullet is potentially lethal — even the old shot to the shoulder can look worryingly near to the upper-chest area. But in others, machine guns can seem the least deadly weapon known to man. To illustrate, at one end of the spectrum there’s your Tarantino movies: reputations aside, there’s not that much gunplay, so when somebody lets off a shot, it’s for real, and it’s usually fatal. High bullet-deadliness quotient. At the other end, there’s your John Woo movies: zillions of rounds goin’ off an’ the only thing they ever hit is glass. Low bullet-deadliness quotient. In a high BDQ film, if the baddie draws a bead on somebody, get ready for ketchup. In a low BDQ film, that’s just a bad day for the janitor. And both types are fine by me, as long as the rules are followed consistently.”

“But you can’t establish a high BDQ and then have a low-BDQ showdown at the end, that’s what you’re saying?”

“That’s what I’m saying. And you cannae establish a low BDQ then have the hero take oot the baddie wi’ wan shot while the air round about him fills up wi’ lead.”

“I agree. So, as you’ve got a term for everything else, what do you call it when that happens?”

“I call it a Renny Harlin film, usually. Worst fuckin’ action director — excuse the swearies —”

“Oh please, Alastair. I’m not your teacher anymore.”

“Fair enough. Worst fuckin’ action director in the world. No idea whatsoever. Just blows a few things up and links it together with badly blocked — and always badly lit — dialogue sequences. And the worst of it is he makes money, so they let him go and do it all over again.”

“I’m not so clued up on the names of the directors — who is he?”

“Renny Harlin. Never to be forgiven for ‘Die Hard 2’. A sequel so unworthy, John McTiernan kidded on it had never happened when he made ‘Die Hard With a Vengeance’ — even came up with a title that got around callin’ it ‘Die Hard 3’. Further Harlin crimes include resurrectin’ Stallone’s career with ‘Cliffhanger’, and the absolute mortal sin of wastin’ a script by Shane Black wi’ ‘The Long Kiss Goodnight’.”

“Oh come on, I thought that one was funny.”

“Aye, it was — that was down to Shane Black, though. As a thriller it was pish — and that was down to Renny Harlin. I mean, Shane Black, that’s precious material. You don’t give it to just anybody. There should be an approved list of directors for his stuff.”