#scheduled because i think i'm clever

[khaotunq]

happy birthday to the most subtle actor on the planet, first kanaphan / happy one of my favourite little eclipse details day

[hedgehog-moss]

Good news! I managed to find the last dandelions of the season :) I really thought I'd missed the window to harvest them this year; it's usually a late-April activity for me but it rained so much in the past couple of months, it just ruined my flower-harvest schedule.

The only dandelions left where I live are all in their wish-granting puffball phase, but I thought I'd try my luck at higher elevations—yesterday I called a neighbour who lives 150 metres higher, it went something like "Hello I would like to inquire about your dandelions and what stage of their life cycle they have reached." Neighbour told me if I hadn't introduced myself first she would have assumed I was a salesperson cold-calling to pitch a product ("You sounded so professional.") But she confirmed that she saw a few still-yellow dandelions during her last walk! Pandolf and I were immediately on our way.

Neighbour also told me that the cows were out in one of the pastures I was about to cross, but I didn't tell Pan, it was a surprise. He was so happy! Look at him bouncing his way towards them:

I was ready to call him back if the cows looked nervous, but instead more cows arrived to meet this visitor, to Pandolf's extreme delight (I had to call him twice before he deigned to stop greeting cows and join me on my dandelion search.)

Usually I just sit in a pasture covered with thousands of dandelions and I barely have to move to fill my basket, but in late May the harvestable dandelions are few and far between, so I had to walk long distances to find a couple here, a couple there—and I had to really inspect the tall grass, where they are much better-hidden than in April grass.

And guess what else I found in the tall grass?

A lion!

Worse! it's Texas :) I guess he is officially a recurring character. (Here's Texas' memorable introduction, for those who missed it.)

He makes Pandolf look small and scrawny!

I went to say hello to his owner but she wasn't home, so we returned to our dandelion field, followed closely by a suspicious Texas.

Sure, I'd scritched his ears and it was nice, but he's a diligent guard dog and unlike Pandolf he doesn't think friendly ear-scratching and malicious intent are two circles that can't overlap. But once I showed him my harvest he lost interest in us. Catching dandelion thieves is not in his job description.

Another animal I had to negotiate with were pollinators, who were clinging to the last few dandelions even though there were other wildflowers for them to feed from. They probably thought I was being similarly unreasonable with my single-minded focus.

I also found an adorable tiny spider in my harvest—she was dandelion-yellow and perfectly camouflaged to hunt insects in there! Here she is giving me a tiny spider high-five (or maybe angrily shaking her fist at me as I deprived her of this ideal hunting ground)

I let the llamas out to eat the weeds in my (still not planted) vegetable garden, like last week, as I started the long and meticulous process of destemming 400 dandelion flowers one by one. It started raining at some point but I had to stay outside to keep an eye on Pampe—it wasn't cold at all, and after the initial "oh no! rain" reaction, it started feeling pretty nice and meditative, sitting outside in the soft spring rain with the animals while preparing flowers.

I proudly told my mother that despite being one month late I managed to make 5 jars of dandelion honey just like last year, and she complained about shrinkflation seeing as I used significantly smaller jars than last year. I'm sorry but that's just called making clever use of packaging to meet unreasonable customer expectations in difficult times. Plus, I used 1 more lemon than usual in my recipe, so what this product lost in quantity it gained in quality. ("That's what they all say," she tutted)

(If my hen looks grumpy it's because she was sheltering from the rain under the table and I unceremoniously caught her and dropped her on top of it to enliven my photo. Not only did she get wet but she felt used, like a mere prop. She's back in her sheltered spot and it's been over 10min but you can still hear muffled resentful clucks when you walk past the table.)

[flawseer]

Mail Call #3

Answering comments from @void-the-bear @railway-lands @keabirb @ilikebookssomuch @chezgorman @cartoons-everywhere @dragonra305

Please don't hurt me. I have glasses.

Thank you, to all of you. It makes me genuinely happy to know that I'm able to put something into this world that other people can enjoy. I think this is a great setting that is fun to add to.

Doing a Wings of Fire-themed run of this Smaugust challenge has been very interesting and it's good that the result appears to be well-received. It's not always been easy, I'm actually getting quite exhausted having to post content on a strict schedule like this. But it is worth doing if it makes people happy.

Relating to my comment on this post. I probably will do it eventually, along with some other ideas I had that didn't fit in. But it won't happen while Smaugust is still going, as I am already skirting the limits of what I am physically capable of right now.

Ahh... hm... This is the question that has toppled mountains and started wars. You're going to get hit squads sent after me.

Well, there is the big one, of course. Qibli/Winter. They have such wonderful chemistry whenever they are in a scene together (with one pretty upsetting exception). And Qibli is always teasing him about being his destiny and the two of them getting married, so I think there is some attraction there.

Then uh... I used to feel completely ambivalent about this one, but Starflight/Fatespeaker has really grown on me over time. There's a lot of interesting potential there that doesn't really make it into the story. I need to make a long-winded post about Fatespeaker one day.

Blaze/Glacier is another one that could be cute. I think putting a repressed Icewing together with a highly eccentric and rambunctious Sandwing is going to be a winning combination most of the time. Or well, I guess I should say "could have been cute", since Glacier had to die for the plot, in a very wretched and infuriating way too.

There are a couple more that I think have their moments or could be interesting in one way or another. Some of them even contradicting or overlapping each other. Listing all of them would probably be a bit excessive.

Oh yeah, and I think Sunny is ace.

Ah, a question that'll make me put someone else's favorite character at the bottom of a preference list... After the shipping question I'm starting to fear for my life now.

Let me preface this by clarifying that I generally like all of the DoD. There are some characters in this setting that I loathe and wish they would exit the story, and the arc 1 protagonists are nowhere near that. So being ranked low here translates to me saying "Yeah, they're okay, room for improvement", not "wow, they're the WORST!"

Okay whatever, let's get down to it.

#1 - Sunny

That one's easy, I mean, just look at the pinned post on this blog.

Sunny is so wonderful and charming and perfect in every conceivable way, she is one of my six all-time favorite characters. She is the flower that blooms in the bitter desert. A lot of people may perceive her as this demure and innocent character who is always happy and friendly, and oblivious to the suffering around her. Nah, Sunny knows exactly what is going on. She is keenly aware of all the bloodshed, suffering, and toxicity that unfolds in the world around her. When she remains optimistic and forgiving in the face of darkness, that is not her being meek or passive, it's her steadfastly refusing to let that darkness into herself. She is actively embodying the change she wants to see in the world, even when it hurts her or gets her taken advantage of, because that is what she believes in and the future she will create.

That's pretty inspiring. I wish I had that kind of inner strength.

Also, she is not weak. While she's not a powerhouse scrapper like Tsunami or an invincible stack of bricks like Clay, Sunny strikes quickly and without hesitation when her friends are in danger, and can be deviously clever. This is often overlooked, but she is--to my knowledge--the only character to land an attack on Morrowseer that comes close to actually hurting him.

Well... you got me rambling about Sunny. Let's go through the others more briskly.

#2 - Starflight

I like Starflight a lot. Unfortunately the story really doesn't. He is like, the unluckiest character by far. I don't know what he did to deserve the never-ending cavalcade of misfortune that gets shoveled in his direction throughout all three arcs. Like, it never ends. A couple of friends and I came together and we jokingly called our group the "Starflight Protection Foundation", because someone needs to stage an intervention. Like, wrap him in a cozy sweater and buy him hot chocolate or something. Heaven help this poor man.

He's another one of my favorites.

#3 - Glory

Glory is really cool; I vibe with the "unchosen hero spurned by destiny" theme. She goes through her life and is constantly told "No, you don't have a special destiny. You're the fifth wheel. You are worthless and unimportant". Though she struggles with the constant abuse and devaluation, she eventually finds a way to turn it into strength and declare that the only value that matters is the one she gives to herself.

I really wish the story had NOT made her turn out to be a secret princess. "I was born without destiny, so I'm making my own" is a so much more satisfying character trajectory than "Oh, don't worry. You were born special after all, you just didn't know about it".

So yeah, I kind of tend to put that "secret princess" plot twist on the shelf when I think about Glory, and prefer to think that she managed to sway Grandeur with her skill and determination, rather than a random blood link.

#4 - Clay

Clay is very lovable. He is like the emotional bedrock of the group and acts as a stabilizing force that pairs well with all of the other arc 1 protagonists. He pretty much resolves all of his baggage in the first book and becomes content and steady. That is very good for him, but unfortunately this also kind of turns him into just some dude for the following four books.

Which is fine, it is good for the other characters to have someone behind them who loves them and helps them up when they stumble. It just makes it difficult for Clay to shine on his own.

#5 - Tsunami

Okay, so, Tsunami. I actually like her a lot in arc 1. She's bringing an interesting kind of energy to the group that is like, half-supportive and half-detrimental. Very chaotic. She also has to contend with some heavy stuff; everything to do with her father and the complications in her family life. It's very interesting. Lots of places to go with that.

Arc 2 Tsunami though, really grinds my gears. She regresses into this kind of juvenile, immature personality that is just pointlessly abrasive and confrontational. She acts really condescendingly towards Peril-- despite the latter having saved Clay's life AND it being really important to Clay that her staying at JMA works out well. Her borderline sabotaging this effort by making Peril feel unwelcome seems very dismissive towards Clay's feelings. It also doesn't help that she is the most outspoken about her loathing of Nightwing mindreading and prophecies, which drives Moonwatcher further into her emotional shell and makes things more complicated.

Okay, I have to reiterate: I don't dislike Tsunami. I just think her character arc is incomplete. It feels like she is stuck in arrested development while at JMA. She's mostly running around yelling at people, when she really should be thinking about what to do about Queen Coral, and how to get custody of her siblings. Her sister Anemone is carrying emotional scars from how the Queen has kept her leashed like a dog for her entire life, a process that is now happening to Auklet, even to this day. And then there's the 30 something children who have never known parental love for a day in their life and their mother can't remember the names of.

Someone's gotta step in and save these kids. Or like, at least start vaguely thinking about it.

Turtle???

Hmm....

...

Moose!

[thethirdromana]

Modern-day jobs for Dracula characters

Yes, most Dracula characters already have jobs that still exist in the modern day: solicitor, doctor, teacher etc. But being in the modern day would have them make different choices so... what would they do instead?

Mina Harker: I don't really get the sense that Mina actually enjoys being a teacher; it's just a job that's available to her as an educated woman in the 1890s. What Mina does like: planning, order, timetables, schedules. Mina would be the best project manager you've ever met.

Jack Seward: Jack should not have a people-focused job, and he should be working with vulnerable people least of all. He's great at observation, and he loves to make a difference and be told that he's a good clever boy. Oh, and he's a big fan of up-to-the-minute technology too. We only need to change his career trajectory slightly, and he would be a very happy research scientist.

Arthur Holmwood: Not many British noblemen are able to live lives of idle luxury any more, so even if his family still owned the Ring estate, he would need to do something more to keep it going. Arthur likes people, travel, music, sport and the good life. So I think, like many modern-day noblemen, he would use the estate itself to generate income: hosting weddings, concerts, conferences and team-building days.

Lucy Westenra: Honestly I think Lucy would love the idea of working with Arthur on the estate. She'd hardly be getting married at 19 in 2023, but she might be getting a BA in Hotel and Hospitality Management with that future in mind.

Quincey Morris: What job does an adventurer/cowboy do in the 21st century? I can't imagine Quincey spending his days sitting at a desk. It needs to be something intense and physical, but also representative of a moment in time that isn't going to last. Quincey works on an oil rig.

Jonathan Harker: Tricky, because Jonathan is so defined by being a solicitor. But a modern-day Jonathan would have far more options for progressing in his career. He has a way with words and a kind and generous nature. I think he'd be an excellent charity grant writer.

Abraham van Helsing: I'm afraid there is no time period or universe in which Van Helsing M. D., D. Ph., D. Lit., etc., etc. is anything other than an academic.

[artofvisualshock]

Messages from the GazettE to the fans (Google translations)

〈 RUKI 〉

At the end, he said, "I want the GazettE to be forever." I think what he meant by "forever" was that he hoped that the amazing scenes he saw from the stage in 2023 would continue forever.

The scenes he saw with his fans, the happy faces of his fans, and the scenes where we all sang together were treasures that could not be replaced by anything else, and I think he hoped that moment would continue forever.

I remember him saying that he wanted to perform live soon.

Even now that he's grown up, he was a kind and passionate man who can honestly say, "Even if something bad happens, it's the most fun when we get together like this and laugh with the band members."

I loved that honesty.

This year was no different, and every year on our birthdays we would jokingly tell each other to take care of our health.

The band will never be a four-man band.

No matter what anyone says.

Because you're the only bassist we have.

Because I believe that my soul is always beside me to the right.

I'm sure everyone can feel it, even if they can't see it.

The proof that Reita has built up in the GazettE so far will not disappear and will definitely live on.

I believe that, so I will continue to sing beside him so that his soul can be right beside me.

I will not become the GazettE that Reita hates.

I don't want to make him sad.

Although all humans live in a finite life, I believe that souls never disappear.

Reita's soul, the members, myself, and the fans.

I want to continue to perform live shows that make all the people who loved me want to come back to the stage forever, even after they have become souls.

So it is only with each and every one of our fans that we can create the scenery that we hoped he would be eternal.

That's why I want him to stay by my side and be there, unchanged from now on.

He should look at me and smile, and think, "He was the best guy!", rather than looking at me with a sad face.

We are more determined than ever to protect this band.

We will make Reita's wish for eternity come true.

So, Reita, rest assured that you can come to every live show from heaven.

Your seat will always be there.

You're going to be super busy from now on.

I'll contact you again when the schedule is decided.

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

<Uruha>

To all the fans who have supported REITA up until now.

I think he was a huge support for everyone, and for me.

I myself have not been able to accept and realize the fact that he is no longer here and that we can no longer stand on stage together.

There may be many things that I will come to understand little by little from now on.

However, if I continue to be drowning in sadness, I will not be able to make his wish for eternity come true, and I strongly feel that now is the time for me to have the strength to look forward and move forward.

I also think that the path we walked together until now was irreplaceable for him, and I think it will continue to live in the hearts of everyone and myself.

He gave us so much, and we walked together for so long, and he is still and will always be our best friend.

Please treasure all the words, memories, and love he left behind in your heart.

REITA will continue to exist and live in everyone's hearts.

We would like to express our sincere gratitude to everyone who has supported and cheered on the GazettE REITA.

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

〈 Aoi 〉

For a long time, the members and a small staff have been working on various projects, saying "this and that," but writing this letter was the last thing I wanted to do.

There have been moments when I felt like giving up on my dreams.

Every time, we talked about it again and again, sometimes pushing each other, and pulling the members' arms so that they wouldn't give up.

Because we were such a band, the GazettE has been able to keep moving forward without stopping.

REITA, you're not the one who wishes for eternity, you're the one who connects eternity.

I can't say something clever like "I'll take care of you."

I wanted to make more music with you, and see more scenery together.

Every scenery is wonderful because we see it with the five of us, surrounded by our fans.

I don't know why, but it's so painful that I can't make it happen even though I have so many things I want to say.

When I get there, I'm going to start with a big lecture. I know it's lonely because we're gone so suddenly, but please take a rest until then.

I have a few more things to do here.

Thank you for walking this long road with me. Rest in peace.

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

〈 Kai 〉

For me, REITA is an immeasurably big presence, saved by his many words and sounds, the mood maker for the band, and all I remember are really fun things, and above all, the sight of him shining on stage.

He is the best partner and the only one in the rhythm section.

That has never changed, and will never change in the future.

I want to continue carrying his feelings and continue with the GazettE with even greater resolve.

Finally, to all the fans and people involved who have supported us for the past 22 years.

Thank you very much.

And from now on, our feelings will remain the same and we would like to continue running as a group of five, so please continue to support us.

REITA

Thank you for all your hard work.

With the same feelings, we will continue to protect the GazettE together with our many friends... I promise.

There are many friends out there who don't want your 22 years to go to waste, and they are waiting for you.

You must come to our shows too!

Let's have some good sake again.

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

What is your headcanon regarding Vox and his sex-life outside of Valentino?

I feel like he'd sort of have to have to sleep around at least a bit, to keep the dynamic he has with Val evened out, if that makes sense? And maybe also to assure himself he's not all the way into men? But I'm hazy about the logistics of it.

He seems to emulate the the sort of corporate executive for whom sleeping with the secretary is just the done thing, but as literally plugged in as he is to everything I don't think he really needs one anymore? And I have a hard time imagining going clubbing either.

I dunno, I have a hard time picturing anything plausible, except for maybe a scheduled handjob during lunchbreak?

Would love to read your thoughts on that.

Ahhh I have so many thoughts on this but some of them are very ugly so I'll try to keep it as PG as possible while talking about this guy.

First off, I totally agree, he'd continue seeing other people even if Valentino satisfied all his needs because he wouldn't want to be seen as a cuck, and Valentino can't be forced into monogamy. And yes, he feels the need to be with women to assert his masculinity. He's also quite a sadist, which Valentino isn't always into, so seeking others is their way of keeping both parties happy (the third party - not so much). Vox is a pathetic, insecure control freak with a fragile ego and he's incredibly goal-oriented. He sees no point in going through the effort and risk of traditional hook-ups when his boyfriend, the main pimp in the pride ring, can get him what he wants with no effort. This is crucial: Valentino is the only one of his sexual partners whom he views as a subject; the others are merely objects to satisfy him, and if he treats them well, it's only to boost his own ego. When he's in the mood for a fling, he browses through Valentino's offerings and picks what he likes. Sometimes, Valentino even sends him suggestions if he thinks someone will suit Vox's taste.

I can definitely see him enjoying the high-end club scene, drinking Japanese whiskey, and watching exotic dancers. Valentino likely owns at least one sophisticated place that's chic enough for overlords. Meeting people there is Vox's idea of being "spontaneous," but it's quite artificial. He might engage in some chatting and flirting, which seems more natural, but it's all theatrics - no waiter, performer, or host can refuse him anyway without risking Valentino's wrath. Everyone under Valentino's control is genuinely terrified of Vox. Unlike with other clients, where there might be some room for negotiation with Valentino (not because he's particularly kind, but because 1) he doesn't want his property damaged, and 2) some clever people can manipulate him into acting decently by making him think it was his own idea), his flat-faced prince gets whatever he desires, always, no questions asked.

[citrusy-lemons]

meet-cute

tasm!peter x reader (university au)

summary: you're late to your class and someone's left a skateboard on your path. the owner of the skateboard has very brown eyes.

w/c: 0.8k

author's note: um, hi. this is the first thing i've written for peter parker (i know, shocking, i mostly read about him) so i'm not sure whether i've captured his essence, but i tried. also i know it's a bit cringey but i started writing it in the reader's pov and i couldn't change it to peter's in the middle like i wanted to so, i guess, next time. i hope you like this! constructive criticism is encouraged, please be nice :)

you had not imagined your first day of university to go this way. it was a cloudy day, pleasant and not too windy. you were hoping to make it to class a few minutes early and have everything set up before the professor arrived. 

but instead, you were late, you were not organized at all, and you were panicking. all because your stupid alarm hadn’t gone off. why? because you’d forgotten to change the timezone in your phone. moving to the new city had not been easy and now you were super late for your class.

cursing yourself for your stupidity, you were hurrying across the campus, you weren’t sure where your class was, but you were hoping that you’re walking in the right direction. 

checking your bag, hoping to god that you’d grabbed the right books on your way out, with a cup of coffee in your other hand, you awkwardly jogged across the campus to the building where you hoped would be philosophy by mr. jackson. 

you were in the midst of congratulating yourself on successfully having the correct textbooks in your bag when the earth shifted. 

okay maybe that was a bit dramatic but that was what had happened to you. the earth hadn’t shifted, but you’d fallen on your butt because someone had left a skateboard lying in the middle of the walking path. 

thankfully, your coffee hadn’t spilled but your books sure had. looking up you found a brown-haired boy bashfully kneeling down and start collecting the books, profusely apologizing.

"-really sorry, are you okay? did you break anything? i broke my ankle a couple of years ago but i was just being stupid, oh god did you break your ankle? i hope you didn't, that hurts a lot. i'm so so sorry, are you okay?" he finished, turning his brown eyes on you in concern.

he looked very... soft. he was wearing a brown jacket and a navy blue zip up over a light blue tshirt. his headphones were hanging out of the neck of his tshirt. he looked like he smiled a lot. his brown hair was ruffled, his brows furrowed and you realized he was still waiting for your answer.

"i dont think i've broken my ankle if that's what you're worried about," you sat up. your butt was sore, but other than that you were okay.

"okay, that's good, that's a start, anything else broken?" he bit his lip, and you tried not to stare at it.

"no, doesn't feel like it," you took a breath, and looked away from him, towards the guilty board, "why don't you explain why your skateboard was just lying there?"

he helped you up, your coffee was still intact, you dusted yourself off.

"oh, uh yeah, again, i'm really sorry, i was checking my schedule on whether philosophy was right now or in an hour and i didn't realise it had rolled away from me," he did look very guilty, his frown saying as much.

he returned your books and you stuffed them in your bag which was lying on the ground. he was still looking at you.

"be careful then," say something clever, why wasn't your brain working?

"i'm really sorry," he offered, why was he still looking at you?

he picked his own bag up from the ground and looked away, grabbing his skateboard too.

you blinked.

"i think philosophy is right now,"

he looked at you again.

"which reminds me," you walked past him, fast. almost running, looking straight ahead.

philosophy is right now and you are very late.

"um, hey!" you heard him call out and turned around, still walking. he was facing your direction, looking at you again.

"philosophy by mr. jackson?" he asked, his skateboard in one hand and his brown bag slung across his back. did he really like the color brown?

"yeah," you called back, hoping he didn't have the same class as you.

"his classroom's that way," he pointed his thumb behind him.

goddamnit.

you stopped and started walking in his direction and he joined with you as you went past him. he took the hint that you were late and didn't really feel like making conversation. you tried not to visually show your panic but he seemed like a good observer.

you both reached the classroom (it was the first room in the building how could you have missed it?), and saw that yeah, you guys were very late.

the classroom was full, and a middle aged man was already talking to the students. professor jackson noticed you both before you had a chance to say anything.

"ah late on the first day, not making a good impression mr. and miss...?"

"peter- uh parker, peter parker," the boy next to you said.

you introduced yourself and mr. jackson let you both get to your seats without further embarrassment.

you sat down, pulled your textbook out and tried listening to what the professor was saying.

you looked for him and found peter parker's brown eyes already on you.

[wing-ed-thing]

Smoker Relationship Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns

𓆃 For how tight-laced and no nonsense he can be, Smoker isn't a terrible partner in the slightest. While he brings some of his stern nature into a relationship, you'll find that he's extremely loyal and surprisingly soft and attentive.

𓆃 Putting it plainly, when it comes to relationships, Smoker has been there and done that. He knows the role he's meant to play in your chosen dynamic. And that being said, he knows exactly what he wants and doesn't waste any time playing games.

𓆃 While early inklings of catching feelings might throw him off a bit (especially if you've been close friends or colleagues), there's little else that keeps him from being direct and politely asking you out forthright.

𓆃 Smoker is rather untraditionally orthodox in the sense that he prefers the traditional song and dance of taking you to dinner, but bringing flowers didn't even cross his mind. He'll hold the door, but couldn't give a damn about which side of the road you walk on. And if you ask if he intends to split your bill he'll look at you like you're crazy.

𓆃 And there's almost no way to predict Smoker's picking and choosing in terms of his relationship expectations, which mostly comes from him thinking things and then not telling you because he thought them so you must automatically know.

𓆃 You'll find that you often have to roll with random things popping up in your mutual schedule at the last minute because how could Smoker not tell you he's been dispatched for the next two weeks?

𓆃 And his reaction is always the same. He'll crinkle his forehead and squint his eyes while the words "I thought I told you 'bout that" pass around his cigar.

𓆃 Smoker often sails for a period of time and then comes back home to where he's stationed. You can almost always count of this revolving schedule, although if yours is remotely similar, it's rare that your schedules line up.

𓆃 Whenever he travels, Smoker always brings back a little gift from whatever island he's just been to, and you've even found that you can request just about whatever your heart desires and Smoker will find a way to get it.

𓆃 Although, he doesn't understand a thing about trends, so requesting a popular item will be met with a grumpy, begrudging attitude.

𓆃 "Why do you want a stupid little trinket? You're not gonna ask for, ah, I dunno jewelry or somethin'?" "I'm not buyin' you a Soul King vinyl. You know that guy's a wanted criminal right?"

𓆃 For all his complaining, Smoker will come home with a necklace and the vinyl (he sent one of his men to buy one incognito).

𓆃 And he complains a lot and you'll find that he can have quite the attitude. After the third time you've mentioned how much you want take-away Smoker is going to put his jacket on and get it, but he's going to be mumbling and grumbling the whole time.

𓆃 That goes for just about anything you want on a whim. Whether you want something sweet in the middle of the night or you walked past something really nice at the market and now you're lamenting over whether you should have bought it.

𓆃 And every time Smoker is getting out of bed to get you ice cream or turning you both around so you— or more likely he— can buy you that item you were so infatuated with.

𓆃 But for every ounce of attitude he gives, it's within reason and expectation that you give it right back to him. Smoker will never say he likes when you're a bit sassy, but he's very clearly amused by banter.

𓆃 Landing a clever clap-back on him simply makes him smile. The smile is usually accompanied by an eyeroll and the shake of his head, but you can tell he loves when you get a little feisty.

𓆃 In the same vein, Smoker easily gets suckered by a bit of pouting here and there because for being rigid and grumpy, he would do anything short of breaking the law for you.

𓆃 If you're someone looking for something serious and long-term, look no further because Smoker is on board with settling down. Once you're in a relationship, there's very little that would keep him from being anything but dedicated to you.

𓆃 Oh, except piracy.

𓆃 Yeah, piracy would likely get in the way of that.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[arwenadreamer]

Jared is the most loving, caring person!

I've read it a thousand times online, but experiencing it in person puts it on anoher level!

Jared's schedule on Purcon 8 was merciless! (In fact, the whole schedule of Purcon was the one thing I have to criticise regarding this convention. Maybe I'll make another post about this.) For example on Sunday Jared had 15 Minutes of double photo (with Mark), then the J2 panel (30 Minutes) then M&G (30 Minutes) then photos 2,5 hours of photos (which run late, so it was close to three hours in the end), then a single panel (30 Minutes) without a single break. (There would have been a 20 minute break after the 2,5 hours of photos, but again, they were late.) Then he had half an hour break, before autos were from 16.25 to 18.25!

I don't know about US conventions, but at JiB there are more little breaks, and the photos, autos, etc. are in smaller patches. Like, 1 hour photos in the morning, then an hour of autos, then a panel, then photos again.

I don't think I could stand in a photo room and smile for 3 hours straight and give every fan the time of the day and a beautiful photo!

But Jared did! (And so did Jensen, btw.! Neither of them ever showing how tired they were. Or at least trying to hide it the best they could.)

So, @takikojou and I took our Jared photos on sunday. We were in line last, since we had the cheapest entrance tickets, which means Jared had taken pictures for nearly 2,5 hours. When we were in the photo room, we could clearly see how exhausted he was. Between pictures, his eyes drooped. Yet, he gave EVERY. SINGLE. FAN. his full attention. He made those 10 seconds special for everyone of nearly 2000 fans! One girl wanted to do a handholding pose with him and he squatted down (as he always does), but she asked him to stand tall please, which he did. And the whole room laughed. (This kind of good natured laugh.) So did Jared. He picked up the energy and still had fun. Then a man came and asked him to do the WOW fingers. Jared clearly loved that, they made a bit of fun about it. Jared clapped the fan on the back in parting and said "Loved that pose!". @takikojou had an amazing op, but that's her story to tell.

Then it was my turn. I wanted to do a drinking pose. He listened attentively (For some reason we were not allowed to show pictures on the phone of what we wanted, because they said it would take more time? I think it takes more time to explain, but oh well.) Then he did the pose and looked me dead in the eye. For my second photo I asked him to choose the pose. He said "I'll stand behind you", then turned me around and held me withe both arms around my shoulders. And then he pressed with so much strengh, held me sooooooooo tight! I grin like a lunatic on the pic, but who can blame me? I then turned halfway around to say "Thank you", before walking away, and he stroked my arm and said "Thank you, darling!"

The pictures turned out wonderful. And all of that after 2,5 hours of nonstop pictures! Not a single photo he took shows how tired he was!

He came on stage right after photos for his panel and was like "I'm gonna sit, I need that now", falling into the chair right away. Yet, he continued to give us an awesome panel. Seriously, my brain would have been mush by now, yet he gave clever, insightful answers as always and put his full energy into that panel.

We don't deserve that man!

All that goes for Jensen too, btw! But he had a much better schedule with little breaks and rather an hour photos, then something else, then photos again. Which is why I was especially blown away by Jaredˋs dedication. But that doesn't change the fact, that Jensen, too, gives every fan his full attention and makes the most of those 10 seconds and of the panels and everything. They are both amazing like that!

[zhuoyichenpretty]

aww yeah ep 20 GOOD

I guess I do (very casual, broadstroke) episode commentaries now, halfway through the show lmao. Spoilers below!!

Bai Jiu BETRAYAL?

Wen Xiao WANTED?

Zhuo Yichen DETECTIVE-ING?

Ying Lei BACK?

*crowd cheers*

The dots are connecting like crazy with the big bad's whole inner core crusade and also with the simultaneous demon case like I did not recognize Ao Yin as the demon Li Lun first released eight years ago but oooh do I enjoy that minor payoff.

Love the repeated use of the demonic-spell-restraining sigils now that we've been introduced to them though I wonder why the Bureau doesn't ever seem to make use of them. Maybe they don't deal with enough powerful demons to need to paint those in their own (very empty) dungeon? Or perhaps just plot convenience. (edit: someone has pointed out the Bureau indeed uses them!! I'm just blind <3)

Anyway I kind of wish in the Chongwu Camp dungeon PSJ fought a little bc she's so cool in action and their bailing was a little abrupt, but it makes sense that they'd have an immediate getaway plan. Also this is an ep 19 comment but that line Mr. 3-Face Mask delivered about PSJ being fated to always be betrayed by her little brother(s) HURT. So good.

Back to the Bureau, I do love me a good framing, and I'm also happy to get a tiny bit of the episodic demon-murder-case style back. WX was v clever to hide out in Situ Mansion, and (small detail but) I appreciate that the others catch her up on the Bai Jiu thing onscreen. As an aside, I also like that the actress for WX got to be double-casted even just briefly. Seeing some of the actors get to play around with portraying various extremes in characterization and costuming is a ton of fun.

And then yay Bai Jiu backstory at last~! It's crazy how much that blood moon fucked up everyone's lives eight years ago huh.

Everything ZYC says to him is on point (and honestly, ZYC is really quite adept at comforting others, he just sucks utter ass at it when it's his fault and he has to apologize lmaooo) but of course my favorite scene in the whole episode is as follows:

The very slight shine in the waterline, the bittersweet smile/grimace as, deliberately or not, ZYC's words indirectly echo everything about the circumstances between the two of them right now??? Whew. They did that for me specifically.

Anyway, this was a good one to chew on for me, packed with plot movement enough that I didn't feel unsatisfied with just one episode. I'm glad that so far it seems like the release schedule bears in mind what episodes should be watched in pairs for maximum effect (eps 16/17, 18/19 specifically) and which ones are okay to stand alone for the day, but I also don't want to speak too soon haha. We'll see how ep 21 fares.

Also since this is a ZYC stan account (lmao) I have some obligatory ZYC thoughts that I haven't managed to fit anywhere else. I've been meaning to comment on this for a while now and was reminded by this episode: I love the fact that ZYC actually smiles quite often. I think it's a bit surprising every time he does because he so easily fits the archetype of stoic broody action hero, but it really is just an archetype he's fit himself into, and it's never clearer than when they flash back to smiley baby!ZYC (how freely and purely he used to give those smiles away...).

On the other side of this is also how caustic and biting he can be with his words, whether sarcastically or otherwise, and how clearly his face telegraphs his emotions in general. I love that he actually emotes quite a lot and isn't cold and unaffected in the least, just pouty frowny and awkward.

The last piece to this for me is probably his age (which I very much appreciated being established super early on) and how convincingly TJR portrays him as young and inexperienced and extremely earnest. He's so sincere in everything he does that it really doesn't take much to move him, which also (imo) makes his arc less overdone.

We all know from the start what direction his development will likely go, how he'll learn he's mistaken about ZYZ and how he'll grow to have a more nuanced view of the world as he creates more bonds with others. But he's so emotional and emotionally aware that it doesn't really take much push and pull to get him there. And actually, it's not untread ground to him—he is moreso thawing, in part returning to the open-hearted nature that he had to very abruptly shutter away rather than fundamentally changing as a person. I think to me, that makes his character more compelling to watch because his cynicism about the world is perhaps the least sincere thing about him. It's entirely learned, and not by choice. Relatable.

[mercurygray]

I'm really not sure where 'Masters of the Air but it's also the Revolution and the Culper Spy Ring' came from but you know what, this was fun.

Scene: Occupied New York, 1779, or thereabouts. Wilson Callaway’s house.

It had been foolish to let him come here.

There were many things Cordelia regretted now - regretted coming home from Philadelphia and her aunt's house, regretting saying yes to Gale Cleven, when he'd said that she could be of use to them and the cause. Her father's house had his Majesty's soldiers in it, and she had good ears to hear them. But she regretted most of all that he'd chosen the world's stupidest man to be his courier in this enterprise.

John Egan was many things, and a good solider was doubtless one of them, but she was having a hard time seeing that, when he was letting himself into her second floor sitting room window in a borrowed red coat and exchanging pleasantries about the weather.

"You'll be hanged!" she'd hissed, after he'd folded himself through the window, too tall by half for everything but most especially for a spy.

"Well, you didn't make our drop, did you?" he said, pleasant as can be. "I had to make sure you were all right. No sense having our best agent aground."

"Not for the window, you lummox," she shot back, hitting him for good measure. "Soldiers out of uniform are executed as spies."

"It's what I am, though, isn't it?" he said with a grin, completely unbothered by this information. "And that's only if they catch me. Where's your dispatch? I'll take it now."

She could only glare, crossing the room to the loose floorboard under the eaves and gently prising it up so she could pull out her notes.

"Is that where you keep all your secrets?" he asked, peering over her shoulder with little-hidden interest.

"There's no love notes here," she said with annoyance, trying to keep the pile as neat as she could as she pulled out the list she'd written for Gale.

"Only because I haven't sent them yet," he replied.

She rolled her eyes. "If they don't kill you first, John Egan, it'll be me that sinks the knife."

"And I'd be pleased to die looking at someone so pretty, Cordelia Callaway," he said, still smiling. "Even if you do hate me." There were voices downstairs - her father, and another voice, male and booming. Egan froze. "Who's that?"

"Captain Semple."

"What, now? He's at inspection at this hour."

She realized Egan might know more of their British guests' schedules than he let on. "Yes, now!" Cord hissed, trying to keep her voice down. John looked around and considered his exits - the door out to the hallway and the front door, past Mr. Callaway and his guest and at least one servant who knew his face, and the window he'd climbed in through earlier.

And without any ceremony at all, pulled off his hat and belt, pulled her onto his lap, and began kissing her with an intimacy and interest she'd never previously shared with anyone, let alone him.

The door opened, and her father shouted her name, and she sprang away from Egan's lap like she was ashamed to be found there - which, for the moment, was very true. Her father was standing in the doorway with Captain Semple, the two men both wearing looks of revulsion.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"Best be leaving now," John said with a flashed grin, gathering coat, sabre, and crossbelts and making a hasty dash for the open window and the roof beyond, giving a careless salute as he went. "Captain."

Her father was still half in shock, looking from the open window back to Cordelia with apparently nothing to say, words totally beyond him. Had he seen that it was John? It would be just like her father to greet him by name - but the surprise, she thought, had covered most of their sins, and Semple wasn't a local man - he wouldn't know the face. To him he was just another smiling redcoat, set on taking his time with a pretty girl behind her father's back. Clever, really - or it would be, when she'd wiped his kiss off her lips.

"I think I'll leave you to get your house in order, Mr. Callaway," Captain Semple said mildly, glancing from Wilson Callaway's shocked face to Cordelia's flushed and embarrassed one. "Good day."

They heard Mary and her pleasantries, and the door opening and closing. Finally her father found all his thoughts, and spoke. "That was John Egan."

So he had recognized him. "It was."

"In a red coat."

"Yes." Fewer words felt safer now.

"I didn't think your inclination tended that way. To Egan."

She almost laughed, thinking of too many conversations at dinner where she'd made it abundantly clear what she thought of their tall, merry neighbor. "It doesn't."

"Then why - " Mr. Callaway opened his mouth, closed it, and apparently thought the better of his question.

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies, Papa," Cord said, as quickly as she could. "I promise it's…not as bad as it looks."

"And it's…not what Captain Semple saw, either," her father said, choosing his words carefully.

"No, papa, it's not." John Egan's coat is blue, not red, and we never kissed but to cover something up, and if you ask me why else he was here I don't know what I'll tell you.

Her father looked calmer now, though there was still some concern there. "Has he pushed you to it?" He didn't need to say what it was - intelligencing. Spying.

"No, Papa, I - I volunteered." John Egan couldn't push me to anything if he tried.

Her father nodded slowly, taking all of this in with the same quiet deliberation he did most things. "I'd tell you to put a stop to it but I don't think you'd heed me." He stood in the doorway, still deciding. "He's not to come to the house again, for that. I won't have you put our neighbors at risk, and I'd think Major Cleven has more sense when it comes to plans."

She nodded. "Of course. It won't happen again."

Mr. Callaway's face softened, and he reached up to stroke her cheek and press a kiss to her forehead. "My dear, darling, brave girl."

Cord closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, the memory of her earlier kiss still a ghost on her skin, the feeling of his arm around her waist, her body wrapped into his. I know what my father means by a kiss, but what do you mean, Egan? And why should it vex me so?

[vodika-vibes]

Hey, babes, I'm back, but only because you asked for a Dogma request, lol. I am very happy to oblige 🥰

I left my paper with all my notes on it at work, so I'm trying to remember what gemstone and time I haven't asked for yet...

So, let's do Dogma, with a tanzanite, and 0600 (because it's Dogma, lol 😂)

Please and thank you 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

I See You

Summary: You and Dogma are nothing alike, and that’s why you work so well together. You just have to remind him from time to time.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x GN!Reader

Word Count: 661

Prompt: Tanzanite - Perceptive Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright! This is written, I'm going to take another nap on the couch now that I've eaten and hydrated. Hopefully the naps will help. Happy reading~

You and Dogma don’t make sense on paper.

The pair of you are as opposite as day and night in many ways. He’s neat and organized, while you’re not so much. He’s a stickler for the rules, and you've always viewed the rules as guidelines, rather than hard edicts.

He’s not much of a people person, and you’re something of a social butterfly.

No. On paper, the two of you don’t make sense, but you do work together. 

He brings some much needed order to your life, and you help him see that there’s more to life than being a soldier. Sure, there were some growing pains when your relationship first started, but you haven’t had any problems in months. 

So when Dogma starts pulling away, you’re concerned. 

Your immediate concern is that one of his brothers put a thought into his head, made him think that he’s breaking a rule by dating you. It’s happened before, after all. Though when you put your foot down and told his brothers that you would date Dogma or you would date none of them, that stopped right quick.

But, the more you watched him, the more you realized that this was something else.

It had to be something else.

So you wake with his alarm early one morning, when the sun is still low over the horizon, and you settle against the headboard as you watch him get ready for the day. 

He likes keeping his schedule the same, even on days when he’s not working, which is why he’s awake at 0600 every morning. It can be frustrating, but you love him, so you deal with it.

He’s watching you with dark eyes, “Why are you awake, cyare?” Dogma asks, “You never wake up this early on your days off.”

You tilt your head as you watch him pull a loose tee shirt over his head, “I’m thinking.” You muse thoughtfully, as you allow your gaze to trace the geometric tattoos that run down his arm.

He folds his arms, “About what?”

Your gaze drifts up to his face, and you trace the tattoo on his face with a small, fond smile. “You, mostly.” A flush raises onto his cheeks and he averts his gaze. His shoulders seem to curl in on him, and you frown.

Your Dogma is so clever. He knows wartime and battles and weapons and ships-

But you know people. You read people like he reads books. And you don’t like what you’re reading on his body.

“Dogma,” You slide to the edge of the bed, reaching out for him, “When did you become so uncertain of my love for you?” You ask softly, “Have I said something?”

His gaze snaps to yours, “I’ve never doubted that!”

“Then,” You muse thoughtfully, “Perhaps you’re unsure of your love for me?”

“Never,” His arms unfold and he slides his hands into yours before he kneels at your feet, “I’m not sure about a lot of things, cyare, but you…I’ve never doubted how I feel for you. Or how you feel for me.”

You slide your hands up his arms to press them against his face, “But you are unsure about something.”

He hesitates, “One of my brothers,” Dogma finally admits, “has been telling me that I don’t deserve you. And,” he sighs, quiet and slow, “I can’t help but think that he’s got a point.”

You’re quiet for a moment, “Dogma,” You lightly tug him in to brush your lips against his, “My opinion on this remains as it was when we first started dating.”

He shoots you a puzzled look.

Your smile is soft, “My choice is you. It’s always been you. It’ll always be you.”

Dogma smiles, it's a small thing, but it’s real, and he pulls your head down to press your forehead against his. “How do you always know what to say?”

“Because I see you, Dogma. I always have. And I like what I see.”

[daydreamerwonderkid]

I was a part of an PMMM rp group ages ago and since I was last to join I was saddled with the role of Kyubey.

The original goal of the group was to try and create an alternative ending for a new cast of original characters. I believe the plan was to find a way to rp everyone into a happy ending if possible, but no one was against it turning out dark like the source material.

I don't remember a lot of the rules except for one because I purposely exploited it as much as humanly possuble. The rule was that if you had conversations with other players outside the main group chat you had to inform the GM of it and provide screenshot evidence of your conservations.

These private messages were meant to be used as filler rp where players could further develop their characters and relationships outside the main story. I want to clarify that I had full permission from the GM to use this option with less restrictions as they agreed it would be in character for Kyubey to seek out more private conversations versus participating more openly in the group chat.

Long story short I fully dived into my role as Kyubey and systematically went after everyone in private messages to turn them against each other. Again this was forever ago so I'm a bit foggy on all the details but I managed to convince at least 2 members to kill each other, got 1 to turn into a witch by manipulating their character into thinking another player's character was cheating on them with someone else from the group, and then managed to trick another player into doing a contract with some clever word play on my part that the GM later backed me up on when that player denied agreeing to it.

The group didn't last long mostly due to scheduling issues but I still hold some fond memories of it. I haven't been able to pull something like this since then.

But I'll never forget how it felt to watch all my machinations fall into place and the demented giggle I let out when that player finally realized I had tricked them into a contract.

I am ... good for you? XD

Tbh I have no idea how text based rp works, but your GM must have had really trusted you not to abuse the game and/or derail the story by making you fucking Kyubey a;dljkfa;lgjal;dajga

Personally, I've only ever played villain characters when I've been the GM/DM myself. So in that aspect, I can absolutely relate to that giddy feeling that comes with rping a villain and pulling one on the heroes.

But HOLY FUCK, man O_O

[library-ghoulette]

day 9 // voice kink

Prompt list thanks to @kroas-adtam 💜

Pairing: Terzo x reader

Rating: Explicit, minors DNI

Words: 1048

Tags: second person POV, female reader, confessional booth, masturbation

Summary: You confess to Papa Terzo why you have trouble paying attention during mass.

A/N: At long last, another Ghostober fic! Written in a frenzy and barely proofread, so beware? The Hail Lilith prayer that I quote in its entirety is from the article "Praying the Satanic Rosary," uploaded to Scribd by jimhoward300380.

Read beneath the cut or on ao3!

All is quiet as you make your way to the confessional, stepping into the booth and pulling the door behind you with a muffled, satisfying snick. You settle on the bench, and the dim silence envelopes you, thick and expectant. It awaits your words and the violence of breaking.

You cross yourself—right shoulder, left, forehead, between your breasts—and say, "Bless me, Papa, for a I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession."

Then, you pause, letting the silence spool out between you. You can only catch a glimpse of a silhouette through the screen, the strong line of an aquiline nose in profile.

There is an impatient shuffling of vestments. "Go on, sorella."

A frisson of excitement runs through you at the words, at the familiar trill of the rolled r. You're not supposed to know who sits on the other side of the divider. You're certainly not supposed to memorize the schedule according to which the various Papas in residence—three retired from their public role, but still of service to their flock, and one still on active duty, as it were—hear confession, and plan your sojourns into the booth accordingly.

But isn't rule-breaking inherent to your faith, you rationalize? Did Lucifer not rebel before His creator? Is it not the nature of the brightest stars to fall?

And fall you have. You're not unique in this—every Sibling in the Abbey would be happy to line up and wait their turn with Papa Terzo. Who could resist his clever hands, his easy charisma, the transfixing power of his unholy gaze?

But for you? It's all about the voice. You have been known to linger outside of the music room, sweeping the hallway extra carefully as he warms up his vocal chords, running through scales and nonsense exercises. During mass, you let your eyes slip shut in the semblance of religious ecstasies, letting each syllable of his homily wash over you, meaning more felt by your body than absorbed by your mind.

But nothing compares to sitting here with him in the secretive dark, where each word rings with a special gravity, rendered huge by the small space.

You rack your brain for something to confess, searching your soul for the most exquisite sins you've committed. You run through a small litany of everyday transgressions—indulging your slothfulness, lying to Sister Imperator and saying that you weren't feeling well to get out of cleaning the sanctuary, envying one of your Sisters the expensive new pair of shoes she just bought and won't stop showing off every chance she gets.

Each sin you recount gets little more than a grunt of acknoledgement. This is no good. He's barely spoken the entire time you've been in here, and you're running out of sins, running out of opportunities for approval, for comment.

You decide to be bold.

"And—" your voice falters for just a moment before you press on "—and I've been having— impure thoughts. During mass."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Papa. I find that I can't focus during the readings, because I'm so distracted by— by your voice."

"My voice, sorella?" It comes out deep and rumbling, and you swear you can feel the words low in your belly as surely as if he were murmuring against your skin. You press your thighs together, seeking friction, seeking any relief you can find.

"Y-yes," you sigh. Your fingers twist in the hem of your skirt.

"Well, that is a problem." A pause, and you wonder whether he's going to continue. "You come here to hear my voice, but I think that I need to hear yours."

"Papa?" you ask, confused.

"Say a Hail Lilith for me," he commands. "As your penance for failing to listen to the words of our Unholy Father."

You take a deep breath, collecting yourself as you recall the words of the prayer. "Hail Lilith, full of the Serpent's seed, Satan be with you. Blessed are—"

"Slower," he interrupts.

You begin again, taking your time. "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, the Demons."

As you speak, you become aware of the rustling of cloth, as though he has reached beneath the robes of his office, as though—but surely not—he has taken himself in hand. It surprises you so much that you stop mid-prayer.

His voice is husky, breathy, when he prompts you, "Keep going. Please."

Emboldened, you snake your hand up under your skirt and down your panties, suppressing a gasp as your fingertips find your swollen clit and begin to trace desperate circles. You strive to keep your voice steady as you continue to pray.

"Seductress Lilith, m-mother of— mm— mother of S-succubi—"

You can still hear the motion of his hand, the huff of his breath as he gets closer, as he whispers, "Yes, that's it…"

"Pray— pray for— for us." The words have to fight your quickening breath and lust-muddled brain, now, and you're so close to coming that you're barely aware of what you're saying, or how loud you're being. "Pray for us that are serving You! Now and— fuck— now and in the— in the—"

Your release carries the rest of the prayer away, and you bite your lip hard enough to taste the coppery tang of blood, desperate not to scream your pleasure loud enough for the entire church to hear.

Beyond the partition, you hear his muttered swearing, the gentle knock of his head falling back against the wall of the confessional, and a deep, barely suppressed moan that you know you'll be replaying in your head tonight, and for many nights to come.

"Pray for us that are serving you," you repeat, slightly out of breath, "now and in the time of our Fornication. Nema."

For a few moments, the booth fills with the sounds of your breath as you both recover, heartbeats slowing. And then he asks, "Do you have anything else to confess?"

"This is all I can remember," you say, falling into the rote script of confession. "I revel in these and all my sins."

"Very good. When you leave, say three more Hail Liliths and an Our Father. And sorella?"

"Yes, Papa?"

"Come to confession the same time next week."

[spaceprincessem]

another coda for robstar week!! i love robin angst (he makes it so easy). this is after the first red x episode and since this is based of favorite quotes in centers a little around robin and starfire's conversation where she calls him out on his behavior @robxstar

day 6 - favorite quotes

i'm addicted to disastrous thinking

Robin is an early riser.

Or, well, he usually is.

Sleeping in was a luxury he gave up a long time ago, because there was always work to be done. Training, profiling, researching, or patrolling; it never seemed to end. Under Batman his schedule was strict and rigid, leaving no room to keep his eyes closed past sunrise.

With the Titans he’s learned to let himself bend a little more. Living with four other teenagers with varying preferences for sleeping allowed the rigidity of his former upbringing to ease. He’s still an early riser, partially because he likes the quietness the morning brings. He can sip his coffee and watch the sunrise as he boots the computer and starts his day.

Raven is another early morning Titan, their routines steadily circling around each other the longer they live together. Raven always beat him to starting the coffee pot, but he graciously learn how she took her cup — two scoops of sugar, no cream.

Cyborg and Starfire awoke around the same time, about an hour after he and Raven, but still early enough that the coffee was still warm and the rest of the city began to spring into life; the hum of the morning commute flitting over the ocean. Beast Boy slept in the latest, joining them at the tail end of breakfast. 

This morning, though, Robin knows he’s the last one to crawl out of bed. 

It’s not surprising, all things considered. 

Last night’s battle was hell and he’s still actively punishing himself for the stupid Red X plan that fell apart nearly a week ago.

He knows that, no matter what, his team will always have his back, even when he doesn’t deserve it. They’re better than that, though, and Robin will be forever grateful for their never ending grace they extend to him. They haven’t really talked all that much outside of training and battle which Robin can’t exactly fault them for.

He betrayed their trust and pushed them away. He let Slade dig in too deep, blinding him to just how much he would hurt the people he cared about most simply because he thought he was being clever. Even if the plan had worked he hardly doubts he’d come out unscathed.

Stopping Slade wouldn’t negate the fact that he lied to his team. 

He’s been yelled at before, even Batman loses his temper, but coming from his friends cut deep. He let them fire away, knew that it was for the best, and anxiously waited for Starfire to take her turn, bracing himself for the inevitable final blow.

You want to yell at me too?

He shouldn’t have been surprised that Starfire would take him apart so quietly. Her hurt and disappointment was worse than anything else the others said. The last thing he ever wanted to do was let her down.

Forgiveness isn’t easily earned, but it's just a matter of time, because the Titans were his friends and they loved him. But he couldn’t ignore the itch beneath his skin, the need to do something, repent or maybe to just give penance. 

He doesn’t mind taking some of the harder hits in exchange for his team’s safety despite being the most human out of all of them. Last night was particularly awful and he sheepishly let them finish off the bad guy when his rib made a disturbing cracking sound when he was body slammed into a car.  

He stands in front of his bathroom mirror, shirtless, staring at the blooming hues of black and blues across his abdomen. Thank god for Raven and her healing abilities. An accident like that with Batman would have put him out for a week. 

He presses on the bruise, biting down on the hiss before it can escape past his lips. His fingers are cold as he digs in a little more, letting the pain remind him that his actions have consequences.

His eyes flutter close and he can’t help, but imagine Starfire’s frown, her eyebrows knitting together as her entire face twists with something sad. It’s rare to see her that way; she’s usually the sun, bright, happy, and warm. 

She’d watch him press down on the same spot last night, right after Raven had healed it because he felt like his pain was absolved too soon. Her fingers, gentle and always radiating heat like a fire, pulled his hand away.

“Don’t,” she whispers, “no more punishment.”

He shivers just thinking about her touch and slowly eases up on his bruise. 

He can smell breakfast as soon as his door swishes open, his stomach growling as he imagines fresh chocolate chip pancakes with bacon and maple syrup laid out on the kitchen island.

Cyborg’s taken it upon himself to teach Starfire to cook, the two of them pouring over his grandmother’s old recipe book in their free time. Robin’s even caught them perfecting vegan baked goods for Beast Boy despite Cyborg’s incessant teasing.

It’s a lazy Sunday, most of the Titans still in their house clothes as Robin steps into the living room dressed in his own sweats and hoodie.

“Robin,” Starfire smiles as soon as she sees him, “you’re finally awake.”

“Dude,” Beast Boy says as he transforms out of a goat (goat yoga — he’ll have to ask Raven about that later) , “we thought we were going to have to drag you from bed to join us for breakfast.”

“I had to teach Cyborg to make my coffee.” Raven adds, but there’s an underlying tease to her tone.

“Yours is easier than Star or BB’s,” Cyborg frowns as he flips the last pancake onto a platter stacked high, “who insists on having it frozen and blended.”

Robin bites his lip, stopping the relieved smile from breaking across his face. He stands, watching for a few moments as Beast Boy fires back with a list of why iced coffee is superior to which Starfire nods enthusiastically and Raven immediately starts to counter argue. 

He lets himself wander over to the coffee pot, but his usual mug is already full, and steaming as Cyborg slides it over to him with his own knowing smile. 

“Okay, everyone,” Cyborg calls as he turns off the griddle and finishes setting the breakfast bar, “get over here and dig in.”

“What happened to that bottom pancake?” Raven asks with a raise of her eyebrow as she pokes the suspiciously black cake.

“Starfire tried to cook it with her starbolts,” Beast Boy grins as he elbows the alien playfully in her side.

“Cyborg and I were merely experimenting,” Starfire pouts as she looks mournfully at the burnt food.

“And like any good scientist we concluded that we will be leaving the cooking to the stove top from now on.” Cyborg says as he fills his plate high with meat before drowning it in syrup.

“This all looks great.” Robin says as he takes his place next to Starfire, his heart traitorously fluttering with her beaming smile. 

He lets himself lean into her warmth, their shoulders brushing as they eat. Robin listens and smiles as his friends fill the kitchen with conversation and laughter. 

He can’t help but think that this feels a little like forgiveness. 

[icarusredwings]

Something The Cat Dragged In

A badly written COMEDY oneshot. (I have no clue how to write 11 or amy im sorry) No smut.

Posted: July 31st 2024.

Words: ~7,900

Ships: The Ponds, River/11/Simm

Prompt: The Doctor and River are trying to domesticate a feral Master with clicker training, and it's going about as well as you'd think.

This fic includes: Jealous 11, SFW worshiping kink, Horrible cat puns, Bondage, Amy being a freak, Pet play, Degrading, an Oblivious 11, and Mentions of Cheetah Virus changing a bored master's deoxyribonucleic structure. Consider that your trigger warning.

“Are you sure this is safe?” The ginger man asked, hesitant about the scrappy man that the raggedy doctor had brought on board the TARDIS.

“Absolutely!” He chimed, the smile on his face clearly larger than how much trust he had in this situation being anywhere near ‘safe’.

He knew that smile. That was the ‘I'm lying because I don't want to tell the truth’ smile. The one you had to watch out for. So nervous that fibber was..

“Oh, Amy's going to kill you…”

“I'm sure she will! As for now-” Rory watched as the Doctor jumped around the TARDIS a bit, hitting buttons, pulling levers, twisting dials. The usual. What wasn't so usual though was the fact a half blonde man with about half an inch of dark roots was standing there, Glaring at him. Swallowing, He stepped to the left, and then more towards the Doctor, being tracked by his eyes. Something about the way he smirked with such wide teeth made a shiver run up his spine.

Look, He's met a lot of odd aliens and crazies at the hospital but this guy looked at him as if he'd eat him whole in one bite.

“Doctor-”

“Not now Rory! Busy!” Coming around, He seemed to have this be the entire plan, getting the drop on him as he spun behind him, clamping a thick metal bracelet around his wrist, holding it as he quickly clamped the other. “Hey!”

“There we go! That's better!”

Huffing, the man began to try to take off the bracelet only to emit a small red light and a beeping noise. “Take this off of me! Right now!”

“Uhhhh…No.”

“Yes! Take it off or i'll-”

“You'll what? Hm? Still in the habit of telling me your plans are we? God you've always been like that. So clever and yet.. so dull..”

“I am NOT dull! You're stupid bowtie is dull!”

“Hey! Bowties are cool. Now then, Rory this is-... er.”

“Say it.”

“..er..”

“Go on. Say it!”

Taking a breath, The Doctor knew that no matter what he said would be bad. If he introduced him as Koschei, He'd not rest until he at least stabbed him in one of his stomachs.

“Rory, Master. Master, Rory.”

With a great sense of pride, The Master grins ear to ear, Putting his hands out and bowing as if he had just introduced someone extremely important. Perhaps an old friend that once held such great respect but now it seems both of their minds have gone a bit off their rockers. More so the other's, but they both thought this.

“... should I be worried?”

“Oh, Yes.”

“No!”

“Don't lie to them, Doctor! You and I both know what happens when I'm hungry..”

“Doctor? What's he mean by that?” Giving a look of concern, he backed away just slightly enough to trip over a loose wire. This fear seemed to please the blonde while the Doctor rolled his eyes. “Oh you are fine, I just fed you.”

“He's on a feeding schedule? Like… some kind of pet?”

“Do not speak of me like I am nothing but a pet!! I'm far beyond Your comprehensive abilities! Use your tongue to call me anything below your Master and It will surely be a mistake!”

“Yeah, About that, You're in charge of not letting me forget to feed him, okay? Jolly good, alright, Now! I do have to apologize, Your old room was destroyed but we have bunk beds! Cool right?” He rambled.

“Why do I have to make sure you remember?” Rory asks, scrunching his nose as he took another step forward.

“Do you want to find out?” The Master beamed, quite excited about teasing and gaining authority over the Doctor's fellow companions. If anything, They were pets. Not him.

“I wouldn't recommend that! Lets just say, You don't want to find out. Anywho! Back to what I was saying!” For a third time he turns to his old friend, new traveling buddy, hands clapped together politely.

“Your old room is busted. Gonzo! So you'll have to make a new one. Any requests?”

“Wait wait wait-”

“Good god, Rory what now? You're being quite rude!”

“You can't just bring someone aboard who's going to eat me and fly on by!”

“I thought we already established this. Keep up!”

“Yeah, keep up!” The Master shouted, egging the man on. “And if you can't, get off the ship! Do us all a favor and jump overboard.”

At this, he was met with a cross look and his ear being pulled. “Aye stop that! Now you're the one being rude!”

The days that followed weren't so simple. Between the Master trying to get out the front door, snapping at them, insulting everyone he met, refusing to eat certain things, and both Rory and Amy losing sleep with how much they argued, you could say that things were in fact not going well. The Doctor on the other hand said differently, claiming that it took time to get used to TARDIS living arrangements.

The thing that really got him rowdy though was his vaccines. Between scratching, cursing and kicking, it was a wonder how the Doctor was able to manage him at all, even if his methods weren't exactly filled with the most logic, some being closely related to rewards.

When the Master DID finally escape, his punishment was to wear a bell. That's it. A normal bell. Quite a large one though. Suited more for a large dog then a cat.

When he purposely shoved all the trinkets and containers off of the top of the fridge in order to sit on top of it, The Doctor made him a loft to lay on with his own window.

This seemed to have worked for a while, watching the stars as they floated by. But then when the problem arose of him not eating, The Doctor gave him a bean bag chair hoping having his own special spot would make him feel better.

But it didn't. If anything he only ripped it up, purposely destroying it. Coming back to the TARDIS to that kind of mess was enough for Amy to suggest getting rid of him or perhaps caging him up when they left but the Doctor was just in awe at how relaxed he was, snoring ever so softly while lounging on his loft as if he were purring from curing his boredom for the day.

“Aww Amy.. I couldn't. Look how happy he is.”

“He trashed the TARDIS! I thought you said you were going to take care of him?”

“I am! It's just… oh what's that word?”

“Hard?”

“Impossible?”

“Nothing is impossible.” He says, shaking his head.

“But you said that tons of times..”

“And yet none of them were true!” He says, wagging a finger. “I just have to think.”

So he thought. What else could he do? The Master was bound to rebel. That's been proven already.

“Well you better do it soon or else he's going to rip up your fez next..” this gave him an idea.. quite a large one at that.

“Oh Rory!! Wonderful Rory!” He says, grabbing his face as he holds him tight with that excited but manic glint.

“That's just what he needs!”

The two watched as the Doctor ran off to the console, trying to jump over the billions of beads only to slip, Falling for only a moment, popping back up over on the other side.

“A .. fez??”

“No!- well. Yes. But no. You'll see! Now go on. Don't you have erm-” he waved his hand at them, his brain doing that thing where his words were all jumbled up inside, making it difficult to speak. “Kissing to do? Or something? Don't worry about me I got a lot of cleaning up to do and- OH yes! Amy, are you finished playing that game with the rope? You know, the one you told me about?”

The ginger man's eyes widened greatly as he gave his wife a look of terror. The kind you only get when your head was screaming ‘WHY WOULD YOU TELL HIM THAT?!’

The woman now blushed, Crossing her arms as she returned the look to her husband, implying that she had everything under control. “You mean that one where we pretend to be Fenrir and see how long it takes to get untied?”

“Yes!” He snapped his fingers. “That one! Quite a loud game is it not? Anywho- Can I have the rope back? I'm glad you two wish to practice kidnapping safety but I'm afraid In this era people are going more with handcuffs then rope.”

Amy's eyes became brighter, the kind that scared her husband to death.

“Handcuffs you say?”

“It seems in most situations they're used more often than rope nowadays.”

“Is that so?”

“..Why are you asking like that?”

“I was just wondering…What if we practiced getting out of handcuffs instead then? It would make a lot more sense to practice with modern tools then-”

“Oh will you SHUT up!? Get a room will you?! God. It's bad enough I'm stuck here with you two. I don't want to hear that either!”

Glancing up, the Doctor grinned seeing the Master awake and his same cranky self.

“Oh, be nice! They do have a room!...Still don't know why you'd ever want me to take out the bunk beds though…” he muttered this last part, rubbing his chin.

“Soooo….Doctor? Cuffs?” Amy started, rocking back on her heels.

“Oh yes! Here you are.” Tapping a button on the console, a small drawer popped out as he tossed two sets at the red head, Tapping another as a door in the wall opened up, revealing cleaning supplies. “Now, if you excuse me. I have work to do. And you mister! You're going to help me!” He shouts, only to be given a lazy bird and a “No i'm not.”

Sighing, the Doctor made a face of disappointment but wasn't surprised.

“I suppose you're not… Got it..”

It's been about 2 months since the Master joined their voyages. So far he's only had about 30 true crimes, and by that I mean he caught one of the homes they visted on fire.

About 53 “naughty” days. The Last week though? It's been secretly excellent. The Doctor thought that things were going great.

He's found that by giving the Master MORE freedom, he's actually learned how to behave quite a bit. It seems that separating him from the tasks of everyday life made him feel unwanted and untrusted (for obvious reason).

Hell, even he was shocked when told he was allowed to do important things.

Not only did he now have free range of the TARDIS but he was allowed to do mostly everything. He's even tried his luck at pushing buttons by sniffing around the other companions' rooms, knocking over and purposely misplacing things. All of which were met with a short talk and sometimes a hug.

This confused him greatly. He just broke something, why was he being forcibly hugged and then scolded? The Doctor would tell him to clean it up and if he didn't would get locked in the room (so he couldn't make another mess) forced to observe as the Doctor cleaned it himself.

He still had the bio bracelets so that he couldn't fully man the TARDIS but the Doctor began asking him to pull levers and asking his opinion on things. But why would the Doctor want his advice? He was a mere prisoner… usually captains of a ship didn't ask the people in the cellar for advice.

His bell had been kept on for safety reasons, mainly because he thought it was funny to chase Rory around until Amy came to spoil the fun by spraying him with a water pistol holding a liquid he couldn't quite place. Sometimes it stunk.

Once he opened his mouth to hiss at her and it went straight down his throat, cutting off the noise as he growled, only to realize it was sweeter than regular water. What was that? Sugar water?? No if it was sugar water it wouldn't stink like that..

Looking out his window, he was content as he watched the stars pass by, not entirely sure of what planet they were at but had a close enough idea of which solar system they were in. He could feel that they were extremely far from earth, further then that pathetic planet pluto, further than alpha centauri, and even further than Estello Aqualo, a planet full of nothing but water inhabitants.

Oh how he hated water planets. He much preferred reddish orange planets like Mars, Jupiter And Saturn. They reminded him of home… and the fact that blue was SO Last millenia-

While laying up here, up on his metal loft, He was mindlessly thinking, something he couldn't often do because of the constant thumping in his head but he's found that these bracelets dimmed the sound into a small tap rather than a thump of a hammer against his skull. He still heard it, oh yes he definitely could but it was much softer. Almost like a lullaby.

Lazily tossing the Doctor's ridiculous fez up and down, he wondered if the Doctor would be able to ever take it away… Rassilon only knew just how threaded the beat been woven into his life. And as much pain as it has caused him… He couldn't help but wonder…

What would he be without it?

Would he go back to being who he was before? An innocent child hoping, praying, Waiting until the day he received his Time Robes and was given his own TARDIS 60? Until he was gifted the honor of having his own team to command?

A team of his friends?

Until he was on the same team as Theta…?

No.

He could never stand with the Doctor. Never fully on the same team but yet- He sat up. They reminded him of those cartoons he watched when on earth.

Wile E Coyote and the Roadrunner.

Iron Man and Captain America.

Batman and Joker.

The Master looked at the hat in his hands, pondering if he should put it on.. or perhaps throw it out the window! Or…

“Has anyone seen my Fez? I seem to have misplaced it.”

“Have you checked your room?”

“I've checked my bunk, yes. I've also checked the clothing closet and storage rooms.”

Listening from above, he let out a deep sigh, hoping down with a clattering of the TARDIS grate underneath. Being glanced at, He took a few steps forward, handing him the hat.

“Wha- Oh! Thank you!” Taking the fez he smiled, putting it on as if he seemed incomplete without it only to quickly hug him before bouncing off to what ever nonsense he was up to now.

Returning the hug, He didn't seem to notice until Rory stood there, Staring at him with an open mouth.

“What?” He grunted.

“...You..”

“Spit it out you ape.”

“..You returned his hat..”

“Congratulations. You have eyes.”

“No no no, I mean… you returned his hat.. and hugged him..”

“He hugs all of us all the time, whats your point? If you say something stupid like friendship im going to stab you.”

“But today you hugged back. You never hug back.”

“And? so Wh- Oohh ….” Now freezing, He blinked. He did do that.. didn't he? Why did he do that?!

Why did he give it to him so easily? He didn't even ask for it back and he just.. handed it to him? And not only the hat but he returned his hug too?

….Why did I do that?

Now the two stared at each other, both worried and concerned on different levels for opposite things. One worried if he was getting soft, or possibly being brainwashed, the other concerned that he was about to lose an arm.

The silence only broke when he looked at his hands and muttered “Am I sick?? Don't answer that!”

Opening his mouth to reply, Rory immediately shut it, Nodding softly in understanding. While he was quite a brave man, he was smart enough to know that the Master WOULD in fact eat him. And the Doctor couldn't save him forever…

For the next couple of days, he thought about this heavily, deciding that next time he would rip up the hat on purpose. Yeah that'll show him! As for now, He had been standing by the control console, looking at the destination only to scrunch up his nose.

Oh great. Earth. 44 BCE. Just what they needed. More interactions with uncivilized humans fighting over politics… at least this would be entertaining. Assassinations always were when they succeeded.

Coming up to the console, The Doctor clicked a few things, Petting part of the tubing with a happy hum. The hum was slow and sounded like something he'd heard many many years ago. Something of taste. Yawning, He listened to the humming until the Doctor walked off to do something else before unconsciously bee lining for his room.

Climbing into the top bunk (The Doctor had the bottom one whenever he did decide to sleep so it was barely used.) The Master pulled the blankets up around him. Tugging his pillow close, closing his eyes. It didn't take long until he started making rhymed breaths, a rumbling in his chest and throat starting to form from the amount of comfort under the thick blanket.

He got cold easily, as most Gallifreyans did due to the natural heat that they grew up with. Even during his time as Prime Minister he wore layers. Lots of them, blankets in the Limos and curling up to Lucy in an attempt to steal what little warmth humans had. Why the Doctor favored London, a cold, rainy and cloudy place? He'd never know. He prefered somewhere warm. Usually the warmer, the more interesting beasts to see scare small children.

A few moments later he stopped the purring, opening his eyes with a confused “Wait a minute..” look. Why was he sleeping? He wasn't even tired and it was 1 in the afternoon. His regular nap time wasn't until 4.

What in all things unholy was going on?? Did the Doctor do this? A curse perhaps? Was it these?

Rolling over, he looked at the metal on his wrists and for the 14th time he began to gnaw on the bracelets, growling in frustration. What was going on!? Whatever it was, he didn't like it… Mmh…Oh well. He was already there.

The next day, a certain clattering of pans made him perk up. He was swinging in his rope hammock, batting at the decorations that the Doctor specifically told him not to mess with, climbing on them, tugging them, kicking them, biting them, etc.

Anything to try and ruin it but it was proving to be quite difficult to do and not be caught seeing as it was thick enough to not break easily.

Sure, he could just rip them down with the strength he had but that would be no fun. It would cut the fun by 78% actually. He'd already done the math. Whenever someone could come in, He'd instantly stop and pretend to be innocently snoozing.

The pang of pans though? That was enough to bring him down. Climbing out of his swing, the Master followed the noise, coming to the kitchen as he sat at the table, the chair specifically to the left side, separated from the others. A nice pillow on his chair as well.

Honestly he was quite proud of this one. The Master had thrown a fit for hours straight until the Doctor gave him a special chair and now he sat in it like a king peering over his subjects (when in truth, It's just because everyone else was too scared to sit next to him while he ate, afraid they'd get snapped at or bitten if the Master thought they wanted his food)

Sitting here, he waited. Patiently at first but his patience was quickly running out when seeing no one else was coming. Hadn't they heard? Were they not hungry? Well good. He'd simply have it all then. There was no waste on this ship. None at all thanks to him, except when it came to pickles or cucumbers. He hated them. They looked and smelled foul enough for him to hiss, gag, and vomit all at once.

Eventually, his patience grew tired as he looked to the redheaded woman who dropped these pans everyday. For some reason, the Doctor kept these pans up high and getting them down was a nightmare, even for him.

You had to move the pans in order to get the plates behind them. Honestly, the kitchen's arrangement system made him think of the time the Doctor used to store his robes with his socks and his shirts with his underwear.

Who did that??

“Where is everyone?” He asked her, in which turn she turned to glance at him, having heard the jingling of his bell already.

“What do you mean?”

“It's time for a meal…yes?”

“No?? it's 3 pm. Why would you think it's time for dinner already?” She asked.

The Master paused.. Why did he think it was time? Wait, why did he come in here in the first place?

Oh yes! The pans.

“You.. dropped the pans.” It was said with a questioning tone at the end more than a statement.

“Yeah? I drop them every time because this kitchen is an utter mess.”

“riiighht…”

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Amy was right. This place was a disaster. If he didn't enjoy the chaos of watching the humans try to figure out the unorganized kitchen he'd say screw it and fix it himself. But what fun would that be?

“What do you want anyway?” She grumbled.

“What?”

“You heard me. What do you want? What stupid little plan do you have now? Come to remind me how dumb I am for dropping everything? Going to threaten to eat me? ...Again?”

The master blinked, tilting his head.

“Well… No I-” Wait.. How dare she speak to him like that! But.. yeah.. why did he come to the sound of the pans? It was odd. Even For him. Perhaps he got his hours mixed up?- No. It was something more than that. Something he wasn't able to figure out.

Seeing the confusion on his face, Amy frowned, now feeling a little bad. “Oh… Are you hungry? Do you want a snack or..something?”

“Huh?”

“It's just that.. you ran in here like a cat hearing a can of tuna being opened.”

“What!? I did not!”

“Oh you SO did. Here, I'll ask the Doctor where he keeps the snacks for you, okay?”

“What do I look like a dog?”

“He mentioned something about buffalo lungs the other day.”

As if hearing a magic word, He smiled at her widely, the kind he only did when actually excited. “He did? Where?”

“But I dont know if they're yours or his… he eats some pretty weird stuff.”

“Aye! Are you insulting our culture?”

“Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it, bellboy? He's not going to give you a treat if you keep misbehaving.”

Glaring, his arms crossed. “...You're the one being rude.. the Doctor says I'M not allowed to be rude so why can you? God he was always a hypocrite..”

“Look just-” But before she could continue, he heard a different noise. A known squeak of an in-need-of-oil door. Turning away, he ignored her, taking off towards the door.

“Typical..” she sighed, figuring she might as well go see if the Doctor would share his snacks or not, just incase he came back.

Running through the TARDIS Involved jumping over a couple of things and coming to a stop as he saw that curly headed woman standing in the doorway holding a box.

Stepping deeper into the TARDIS, Her heels tapped, No- Clicked against the tile, humming as she spun around what looked to be a set of keys on a colorful keychain. She was sporting a sun hat and far less clothing than he remembered her from last time. His nose scrunched at the smell of sun lotion.

Peering out the door, he seen tons of reddish tinted sand and a sky of orange, yellow, pink. A sea of red. A large pink moon, visible in the sky from where he stood. Where were they? When did they land?

“Ah ah ah- Not so fast Kitty. Where do you think you're going?” She asks, smirking with that type of affection that the Doctor would give him at times before snapping the door closed. It was so annoying..

Beginning to glare from the nickname, a quiet growl rose in his throat. She called him this because of the bell around his neck and the fact that she had caught him “purring” in his sleep, when OBVIOUSLY it was snoring. Duh.

“Why are you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, pumpkin.”

His nose scrunched further, Tilting his head like a confused puppy, the way the Doctor does at times. “Why are you calling me a squash?”

“It's a form of endearment! I er- I think?”

Turning, He rolled his eyes. Oh great. Someone else who was annoying- Though… He looked.. different today. His hair was pushed back and shiney, probably with gel. He had that hideous footwear on again too, but now he was wearing a half opened blue palm tree shirt with parrots and coconuts on it. For a moment he was going to question why his shirt was half undone but saw him quickly trying to finish buttoning it up.

“Hello, Sweetie.”

“H-hi” His friend stuttered, trying to stay focused on his buttons and not the fact River was in a two piece and a small cover up tied around her waist.

“What's the rush? You act like you don't want me seeing you.”

“Oh n-No! Nothing like that! Not at all I just thought-”

River leaned in close to his face, that same smirk plastered onto her lips.

“You thought you wanted to make me work for it… Didn't you? Want me to rip it off with my teeth? You naughty boy.”

“I-..” The Doctor swallowed, looking as if he malfunctioned, like a restarting cellphone.

The Master made a fake gagging noise, rolling his eyes even harder as he pointed into his mouth.

“I thought I told you not to be rude?” Was the first thing the restarted phone said once it finished rebooting. Being scolded felt nice. All eyes in the room on him.

“What? I didn't even say anything this time.” He teased.

River smiled wider, fondly shaking her head as she handed him the small Rainbow clicky key chain. It was shaped like a slug and when you shook it, it made noise and moved in a slithering motion.

“You open that box, and it's yours, sweetie.”

“Why are you calling him sweetie?” He asked, stepping forward as If wanting attention too but she ignored him for now. She watched with a pleased grin as he took the box, looking at it, shaking it next to his ear.

“What is it?”

“Spoilers.”

“.. I hate when you say that..”

“I know. I've been having some trouble with it. The box I mean” She explains, her boyfriend now cocking a brow, pouting that the Master was getting more attention then him. If he knew one thing about River, it's that his dear Melody would never give a box to a man if she had trouble opening it. She'd just blow the lock off with one of her fancy guns.

“No you're no-”

She kissed him, grabbing his bow tie and staining his lips that bright red that she wore often. During their kiss, one of his once flat hairs stuck up, flopping over into his face.

Pulling away, he took a breath, baffled at what in the world was going on.

Completely ignoring this, as this was common whenever River came by, The Master was sitting on the floor, shoving One of the dozen keys into the hole, jiggling them around, cursing under his breath whenever they didn't work. Blinking, The Doctor smiled seeing how entertained he was, leaning in close to the woman. “What actually is in that box, River?”

“Oh you two are so much alike. Too curious for your own good.”

“What? No. We're nothing alike.”

“Yes we are. I've been saying this for eons.” the man on the floor muttered, Putting his arms up in triumph as he got the right key out of the dozen.

“What is it?” The Doctor asks, trying to peer over his shoulder.

“It's mine, that's what!” He says, taking out a box all taped up in clear cellophane but he could see the label, grinning widely to himself, keeping it close so the Doctor couldn't see. He knew he'd want to take it away. River was always bringing him treats. As many times as she made him gag, he always knew that her heels meant something good.

Glancing at River with those big puppy eyes, she giggled, taking his arm as she whispered to him. “It's a knife.”

“A what?! Why would you give him that!? You know he's-”

“Ooh hush. Let him have some fun.”

“If by fun you mean killing your parents and possibly me then sure- River why would you-”

She kissed him again.

“Mh- Thank you but you can't just keep-”

And again.

“River!” He whined

And another.

By now, he's learned not to speak or else she'd kiss him a fourth time just to shut him up. Not like it was a bad thing but he really was concerned.

“There's a good boy. Now. Is operation cat-astrophe still happening?”

For a moment or two, he seemed confused until she put her head towards the Master in which he gasped, nodding. “Oh Yes!”

“I see that Door is a check.” She mumbles, remembering how quickly he came when the door was opened.

“We're working on that. Clicky treats is a go I suppose?”

“Mmmhm. You should have seen how happy he was to see me.”

“Good good.. Just wished you would've chosen a different gift..”

“Just watch And see, sweetheart. Goodness so impatient.” She whispered.

During this conversation, nothing else mattered to the Master except biting and tearing through these 10 layers of tape. Growling, he was becoming a bit frustrated, but it only seemed to make him work harder at it, sticking out his tongue for maximum brain operation.

“Oh I love when he makes that face.”

“What face??”

“With his tongue? It's like you and your glasses.”

“What? No-”

“Yes.”

“AHA!!” He had finally ripped open the box, giggling to himself as he took his prize, quickly running off, probably to go attempt a murder.

“Hm. Well that lasted about 5 minutes…”

“How long do you think until he realizes it's bio locked?” She whispered, smirking like ever.

Staring at her, The Doctors grin grew. “Aahh I see.. you..”

“Mhm.”

“So that-”

“Yes.”

“And now?”

“Yup.. aannnd here he comes.” She could hear the incoming jingling from his bell serving it's purpose.

Coming back to them both, he was pissed. He had just tried to stab Amy and nothing happened, The blade just went inside like one of those cheap toys from the supermarket. He felt the blade. It was real, not plastic, So why wasn't it working? It wasn't fair.

“What did you do to my knife!?”

“Whatever do you mean, Pumpkin?”

“Stop calling me a squash you witch! I can't stab anybody! What kind of present is that!?”

“Did you try stabbing… Things?” River says, raising her brows in a pleased, smugness.

“Things?” Pausing for a few seconds, He soon got the biggest shit eating grin, Running away a second time. Moments later, they heard a crash, laughing, and a loud “Hey!!”

The Doctor blinked. “...He just broke your mothers vase..”

“It was a hideous vase.”

“River!”

“What? Now come on. We have some more training to do.”

Later, after the Master destroyed exactly 3 ceramic things, stabbed the table to death, ripped up all Rory's pillows, and used his new toy to cut up some cheese as a snack, He now was curious about the door again.

Sneaking towards it and looking outside like a cat that wanted to go out but was nervous he'd get scolded, he watched as the Doctor set up lounge chairs and towels on the beach.

Again the heels. Part of him became excited. He liked that clicking- But why? Since when did he like River?? He didn't. He didn't like anyone on this damned ship that he was prisoner to.

“Hi cupcake. You wanna go outside sweetpea?”

His eyebrows scrunched. “I'm not a baked goods… Or a flower. Are you insulting me?”

“Terms of endearment, dear. Remember? Anyway, Let's say you and me go outside hm?”

He looked at her with hesitance. She was being suspicious… He wasn't allowed outside. What was this? Some sort of test? Fine. He'd play their game.

“No… I'm not allowed outside.”

“Aww why not?”

“Cause..??” Was she stupid? Prisoners weren't allowed to leave. That's the whole point of his cuffs And collar. Kept on an invisible, metaphorical leash at all times.

“Well… The Doctor and I are going to sit on the beach. Do you want to come?”

The light in his eyes alone was enough to make River want to hug him to bits. Why were Time Lords so cute? Was it some sort of defense mechanism? Or was it the Feline Virus thing the Doctor told her about lingering in his genetic code?

Starting to nod, he quickly stopped, now playing with his hands. “no.. I'll get in trouble..” and just like that, that light died so soon. So short lived. Frowning, she almost felt pitiful for him. “That is true… but wait! Have you ever tried.. you know.. asking?”

“A-asking to go outside..?”

“Yes.”

“He'll just say no. Every time I get out, I get in trouble.”

“But did you ask?”

Poking his fingers together, he made a sound that sounded uncertain. It broke her heart. Now she was going to scold her husband.

“Alright.. well.. if you want to come join us outside, All you have to do is ask. Mkay?”

And she took off her heels, setting them up on the TARDIS dash only to walk out barefoot, the red sands making footprints as she went.

Standing at the door, now he was really unsure. This felt like a trap.. why would she tease him with freedom like that? Why would she give him a knife? And for the love of god- Why did he get excited when he heard her heels clicking on the TARDIS floor?

Slowly, he peeks his head out of the TARDIS, looking around the planet, The sky, the waves, the footprints she left.

“Hey!” Becoming startled, he jumped a bit, ducking back into the blue box. He wasn't entirely sure if these cuffs would electrocute him if he left or not.. even though Amy joked about them being shock bracelets… The Doctor couldn't do that..

Right?

“Do you want a Jelly worm?!” This was shouted from about 50 feet away by a man with his shirt half unbuttoned, holding a bag of candies while River slathered sunscreen all over him.

“I think theyre called Gummy worms, dear.” She mumbled.

“I'm certain they're called jelly worms.”

“Oh yeah? Read the package.”

Looking at the pack, He pouted. “Jelly worms sound cooler.”

Blinking, The Master wondered if he was talking to him or someone else.

“Me?”

“Yeah! You want a ‘Gummy worm'?!”

“What’s a gummy worm?! Can... I come outside?” This was asked in speaking tone rather then a shout.

“What!?”

“What's a gum-! You know what.. nevermind.” he mumbled, frowning as he stepped a foot on the sand, wincing, expecting his wrists to send electromagnetic shocks through his arms. But nothing happened.

Discovering this, he ran out of the TARDIS, circling round it before coming towards the other two, grinning.

“What's a gummy worm?”

“Its a jelly worm.”

“Oh! Yeah. Gummy Worm sounds stupid.”

He mumbled, being given a few of the candies. Glancing at River, The Doctor had a smug look, wiggling his eyebrows at her as she rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” He shoved one in his mouth. “I think-” another “-they're called jelly worms.” A third one.

“That's what I said! See?”

“Everyone else calls them Gummy worms because they're made with xanthan gum.”

“Like Xanax?”

“What!? No!” She laughed. “Goodness. You had some fun as Prime Minister didn't you?”

“What's Xanax?? Is that a fancy drink?” The Doctor asked, shoving some worms in his mouth as the two looked at each other as if mentally playing rock paper scissors to see which unlucky soul got to teach the Doctor about recreational drugs.

“Seeya-” He said, taking off.

“Ah you gotta be kitten me.” She smirks and the Doctor gives her a look as if to say ‘Really?’ Only to giggle too.

“That's just claw-ful!”

River gave a chuckle before sighing.

“Well.. looks like it's just you and me, sweetheart..”

“Fur-ever?” He held out his pinky, smirking as he raised his eyebrows a few times. River giggled, rolling her eyes only to take the pinky, bringing the intertwined fingers up to her lips.

“Fur-ever. Till the end?”

“Until the end of time and more, my darling.” He would never be able to forget her.. not ever. How could he?

A few times, The Master would run away, doing circles, Zoomies as river called it but never seemed to get too far from the TARDIS, returning when offered more Jelly worms, each time recieving a praise and a snack for coming back to them.

Now he was becoming bored of the laps, even going as far as putting his toes curiously into the ocean, realizing that it was warm. Like a water bottle left out in the sun. This displeased him. He was already hot from his laps around the beach, he didn't want hot water all over his body. Hot was an understatement. If it were hot like the baths he'd not mind but it was the gross kind of warm. The kind that felt yucky on your skin. God he hated water..

It was then he realized that outside of the TARDIS he had free will, coming over to lift the Doctor's chair, dumping him over only to run away, manically laughing, giggling almost.

“What the-!?”

“Catch me if you dare!” He yelled, Dashing off, further and further away. A rush of adrenaline and freedom taking over him. This seemed like the start of a fun game… that was until he had run so far that he was panting and the TARDIS looked like a tiny dot from here.

Where was everyone on this planet anyway? He'd come all this way and not seen a single person. Not a hint of a town, and definitely not a city. Part of him cursed the Doctor for taking him to a deserted solar system with no one to play with- and on top of that, For not chasing after him. He knew how this game worked, didn't he? One ran, the other chased. It's been like this for thousands of years.

So why not now? Was it because of that woman? The daughter of Amelia Pond? This still confused him greatly. He understood the concept of time travel, duh, but what confused him is why her parents would let her marry A dingus like the Doctor. I mean really? Why did she lower her standards?*

Eventually, curiosity killed the cat. He ran as far as he could, trying to find any forms of life, only finding himself alone. Completely and utterly abandoned it seemed. This puzzled him. Why would the Doctor want to come here? There was nothing but a waste land of sand.

Later, When he came back into the TARDIS painting, sweating, and whining from all that walking and running. He shut the door, collapsing on the floor as he laid there, feeling her cool air coming up from the grates and her cold metal against his skin.

Just because Gallifreyans were resistant to heat didn't mean that going out in the blazing sun with a black hoodie was a good idea. Especially not when there wasn't anywhere to go. Not even a tree in sight.

“Well well well. Look what the cat dragged in.” The curly haired woman says, Smiling as she sat next to the Doctor on the torn up sofa that they apparently had moved into the TARDIS control room. (For whatever reason)

They probably had just finished kissing (or got interrupted) seeing as there was lipstick smeared over the Doctors lips and he doubted heavily that the doctor applied it himself… He wasn't THAT much of an idiot… He knew how to appropriately apply lipstick.. even he knew that.

“Why didn't you tell me there wasn't anything out there!?”

“We figured you'd find out for yourself sooner or later” The Doctor says, Scooting over, Trying to wipe the lipstick off of him only to smear it onto his hand and cuff.

“Who's we? Come're baabbyyy” River coed, putting her arms out to him.

Without a second to think about it, he began to scramble over to her only, crawling the few feet only to stop dead in his tracks. What the fuck was he doing? And why?

Sure he's laid between them multiple times to purposely frustrate them, but now it seemed as if they were welcoming him with literal open arms. Why? Cocking a brow, He himself was now frustrated, why were they being so… Kind.. to him? For what? His thinking soon sufficed when called for again.

“Come on. Come to mommy. What did that mean man do to you, hm?” She coed.

“I am not! He's just… bad!”

“Oh he's not bad! He's bored.”

"Yeah! There's a difference!" He awnsered And just like that, in her lap he went, being sure to push the Doctor away from her with his feet, trying to be a menace as much as possible, laying his head in her lap as he stared up at her. Petting his head, she giggled, talking to him further to make him feel pampered and praised. If there was one thing she knew, The Master adored being worshipped and given attention. Ignoring him made things 10 times worse, so she's learned that if she petted him long enough he would go to sleep and she could talk to her dear husband some more before the little gremlin woke up.

“What did he do, hm?? So cruel. Leaving you out there all alone?” River smirked as he already was droopy lidded, nodding softly along with the words.

“I did not. It's his fault for running off.”

“Oooh he's done nothing wrong.”

“... It's really hard to teach him when you keep enabling him, love..”

“That's why it's called Paw-sitive reinforcement, Doctor.” She said this in a sing-songy voice, Letting him get comfy as he turned over, Subconsciously nuzzling up to her hands and stomach.

Truth be told, he could care less what they were talking about right now. He was far too tired to listen to them bicker, using it as white noise, hoping it would drown out the drums that pounded in his head every waking moment of existence.

While they were faint, they were still there. At the back of his mind, like trying to smash through a 2 foot thick wall of ice, bound to break eventually, but right now, they gave him comfort. A constant reminder of who he was and that if anything was real? It was the pounding.

The warmth of her hands also gave him comfort, running her pointed red nails through his bleached blonde and trailing up and down his back through his hoodie.

A few minutes pass and the Doctor is now staring at them with a fond look, a shallow pang of jealousy but he wasn't sure about who. He was jealous of River for being able to get HIS best friend so cuddly and he was jealous of the master for cuddling up to HIS wife. It made him want to take him from her, put him on his lap and let him sleep there instead, but also shove him off the couch and take his place. God this was so difficult. How did humans do this relationship thing? It was so… annoying yet.. wonderful! He wouldn't change it for the world. He was so sleepy and… beautiful.

“You're staring sweetie..”

The voice echoed through his brain once, then twice before he looked up. “Huh?”

“You're staring again… Don't worry. You'll get your turn.”

“When?”

“Oooh so impatient.”

“No I mean- I.. When can I hold him?”

Her eyes widened, not aware that she had been hogging, let alone that he would want a turn at all. “Well… You can have him now if you'd like.”

“I..” Man this was embarrassing. “I think I'd like that.”

Carefully, They moved him from one lap to another, Which at first led to a protest of whining and gentle clawing**, Assuming he was falling off the couch.

“Shh shh shh. No honey. You're okay. You're just fine.” She whispered, pulling his hands away, trying to keep him from sitting up by putting her hand up under the thick sweater, scratching his back ever so gently the way he enjoyed before.

Letting out a sigh of relief, His shoulders dropped, curling up the way he liked in the Doctor's lap instead, a deep rumbling beginning from him. “.. He's so tired..”

“From all that running around, probably.” She whispered, enjoying his purring.

“No.. He's exhausted. His last regeneration went a bit..wonky. I don't even know if….If..” He trailed off, the way he did when he wanted to stop talking about something instead of when he forgot what he was saying.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Snickering, He shook his head. “No... I just.. even Time Lords can only take so much and..”

River knew. He watched him die. He burnt his body. He gave him a proper death ***ceremony- well.. about as proper as you could without others knowing.

“So it's a good thing you're taking care of him. Isn't it?”

“That's the thing. It's not that he can't do it himself, it's just that.. He's reckless..”

“Oh and I suppose we aren't?”

“River.. I don't.. I thought I was the last one for so long. I..” He took a breath, swallowing. She could see the pain and fear in his eyes.

“I can't go back to that.. Hell. For the last few months, I've been spraying him with-”

“Doctor..” She muttered a warning, noticing that the purring had stopped, but he continued.

“Catmint tea just so he'd calm down enough to-”

“You've been spraying me WITH TEA!? THIS ENTIRE TIME?!”

The woman smiled innocently, seeing the murderous glares.

“Whoops! Cats out of the bag.”

“River-! Not now!”

*just wait until he finds out she married Jack Harkness while he had the doctor caged up LOL

** clutching/ trying to hold on, he does not have retractable nails.

*** Like Torvic's. Thats why it hurt so bad.