#so they were just mediocre and not my cup of tea

[sharkneto]

Do I have books in my tbr list? Yes. Do I want more? Also yes. Hit me with anything good you've read recently!

[fortunapre]

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𖧞 16+, swearing, mediocre writing, use of Y/n

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𖧞 oscar piastri x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𖧞 (scene ii) 1.7k

𝐀/𝐍𖧞 thanks for reading and sticking with me, as i’m writing this in listening to christmas songs. is that pathetic? ❄️ 𝐏.𝐒 i got the chess idea from Nicole’s interview on the Red Flags Podcast. Honestly, Oscar gives such chess-prodigy vibes.

Go back? (Scene i) click here

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𖧞 scene ii 𖧞 (𝐂𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫)

Tuesday, December 11th

I woke up with my pillow on the floor and my blanket halfway off the end of my bed. I was a mess, but last night was easily the best sleep I’d gotten all year.

Last night, after a delicious dinner made by Nicole Piastri, I went straight to my room and cuddled up with a book. Granted, I never got past page 1 because I fell asleep immediately. The heat of my blanket against the cold and the hot tea I had made had me nodding off and slipping into a dream within seconds.

Now that I’m awake, I barely remember falling asleep or the dream I had. As a matter of fact, it took me a few seconds to even remember where I was.

After fixing my bed, I took my half empty cup of tea and walked downstairs to the kitchen to get a new cup but was instead met with a wall of muscle. This made me spill my day-old tea on whoever was in front of me and made me so surprised that I almost fell, if it wasn’t for the arms of said wall, holding me still. Once I gained my balance I looked at who I bumped into, fully ready to start apologizing.

“What, is this your first time with legs? Why do you keep walking into me?” I then realized I’d ran into the one person I was hoping to avoid.

“Shut up, Oscar. You’re the one walking into me. Maybe use your eyes for once.” I retorted, walking past him while shoving his shoulder. Oscar turned around, tongue in his cheek, obviously annoyed. Good.

“Yeah, sure.” He replied, following me into the kitchen. “I guess it’s also my fault I now have peppermint tea all over me, yeah?”

I just then realized the big wet patch on the front of his white tee, clinging to his chest. It took a lot of effort to look away from the outline of his muscles thanks to the shirt now sticking to his abs. Gross, I tried to convince myself.

Once I moved my eyes from his abs to his face I saw his expression. His eyebrows were raised and a smirk played on his lips. I just rolled my eyes and turned towards the sink to rinse out my mug. “Might as well have been your fault, you're the one standing in the middle of the walkway.”

He just rubbed his eyes out of annoyance and opened the fridge, giving up on the argument. I just ignored his presence and began making more tea, the smell of peppermint filling the kitchen.

The parents walked into the main room, all dressed and looking like they were planning on leaving.

“Are you guys going somewhere?” My brother asked from the stairs. Him and my sister looked like they just woke up and stood on the staircase.

“Yeah, me and your mom are heading into town with the Piastris. Did you guys want to come with me?” My dad answered. The twins excitedly ran back upstairs to get dressed, meanwhile I just shook my head, not wanting to go anywhere.

“No,” I answered. “I think I’ll just stay back and read or something.” I smiled at my parents hoping they’d understand.

“Oh, are you sure-” my mom began but Nicole stopped her.

“Oh, let her stay, mate. She’s obviously tired.” Nicole took my side. “Besides, her and Oscar can spend some time together. I doubt he wants to go shopping, huh?”

My eyes widened at this and looked between Oscar and his mom.

“Ok, hon.” my mom said, wrapping a scarf around her shoulders. “We’ll be back in a bit.” But I was still caught on having to stay home with Oscar.

“Wait. I didn’t mean-” I tried, but was interrupted.

“Alright, have fun guys.” Oscar quickly cut me off, with a smile to the group of adults. My eyebrows furrowed at Oscar’s words and his seeming nonchalance at having to stay home with me. I was staring at the side of his face, hoping he’d look at me because what the fuck. The twins raced down to the door in seconds, bundled in winter coats.

As the group left out the door Oscar turned his head and spoke so that only I could hear him. “Relax. The cabin’s big, stay out of my line of vision and we won't have a problem.”

Later that day, the rest were still gone, longer than I had thought. I was in the main room, on the couch, cuddled in a blanket, watching a random show on cable. It was insanely boring and as the couple on screen started making out under mistletoe, I went on my phone. Jeez, how long is this scene? I looked up and the two were still lip-locked.

From behind me, I heard Oscar walk out of his room, downstairs and stop right behind me on the couch. When I looked up he had a grimace on his face, watching the romantic scene on the television.

“What in the world are you watching? Christmas porn?” He joked, looking down at me. I just rolled my eyes at him and grabbed the remote, turning the tv off. “You keep rolling your eyes, they’re gonna get stuck.”

I almost rolled my eyes again but decided against it. “What do you want?” I asked sharply, wanting him to leave. “What happened to ‘stay out of my line of vision’?” I said, craning my neck to look up at him above me. He just smirked and stared at me.

“Nothing,” he finally replied, “I just was bored.”

“Yeah, well. Go be bored somewhere else.”

“You know you have to be around me all month, right?” He walked around the couch and jumped on the couch, stretching his legs over my lap. I shoved him off, making him almost fall off the couch but he caught himself. I looked at him and saw he had changed. Instead of a tea-soaked shirt, he was now sporting a black hoodie and gray sweats. The hoodie sleeves were pushed up, showing his forearms. On top of an outfit change he must have also taken a shower, given his hair was a bit damp, clinging to his forehead.

“Whatever,” I said finally. “It doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.” When he didn’t say anything I looked away from his outfit and to his face. His eyes were on my legs, eyebrows furrowed. Only then did I realize my blanket had moved, showcasing my comfy, yet small, pajama shorts. I warmed at his stare and quickly covered back up with my blanket.

He shook his head like he was trying to shake the image out of his mind. My cheeks were definitely red, but I ignored it, going back to my phone. Minutes later, oscar was still in the same spot and when his silence got unbearable, I looked up from my phone at him.

“Well?” I asked. He broke his gaze from the floor, looking at me. Still, he didn’t say anything.

“Let’s play a game.” he finally spoke. His voice had somehow dropped a bit lower and his eyes were boring into mine. “I’m bored.” He added.

“What?”I was confused. “What game?” I was fully expecting him to answer with a video game or monopoly but he surprised me.

“Chess.”

“Chess? Do you even know how to play?” My eyebrows shot up, as I asked him.

“Of course I know how to play.” His voice was still deep, and he still held his stare. I shivered under his gaze.

“Ok. Let's play.” I answered quieter than I expected. I had no idea what I was about to get myself into.

We sat on the floor, the chess board between us and I left the blanket on the couch, having gotten too warm. Oscar had let me be the white pieces, because ‘I'll need all the help I can get,’ according to him.

As I was about to move the first Pawn, Oscar stopped my hand. Right when he touched my hand to stop my movement, he immediately took it back and ran it through his hair.

“What?” I asked, confused. “I know how to play…”

“Yeah. I know you know how to play it’s just that…” he began. His hair was all messed up from running his hand through it. And damn if it didn’t look good. I never considered it fully, but in the back of my mind, I’ve always been aware of Oscar’s attractiveness. He’s a racing driver, he’s got to stay in shape and all that, so obviously he was… well. He was definitely in shape. And his brown hair and brown eyes were a nice pairing to his sharp jawline. I was in deep thought, mulling over Oscar’s looks, when a hand waved in front of my face.

Oscar was waving his hand in front of my eyes, breaking my trance. Instead of bringing up the fact that I was so obviously checking him out, he just held that god-awful smirk and motioned to the chess board. My cheeks grew warm, yet again.

“Did you hear me at all?” He asked, the corner of his lips tugged upwards, having caught my stare.

I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yeah, you said you wanted to do something else, but didn’t you just say you wanted to play this?” I asked. “We just got it set up, what are you changing your mind about?”

“No. no, no. That’s not what I meant. I meant, like, we should add a twist.” He replied.

“What, like strip-chess,” I teased. His smirk dropped and he grimaced.

“What? No! I meant we should ask the other person a question after every move.” Oscar said, surprising me.

“Um,” I thought about it. Why would he want that? I don’t have anything to ask. I thought to myself about possible questions he would want to ask. “Sure, why not.” He smiled at my agreement and rubbed his hands together like he was getting ready.

“Alright then, Y/N.” he said, “let’s play.”

(SCENE iii) click here!

pinterest-piece 𖧞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐬

[bunnie-online]

just ask. {A.S.}

juuuuust thinking about (modern!)anakin being your boy bsf (and roommate) catching you coming home from a verrrry disappointing dick appointment

part two

warnings: MINORS DNI 18+, suggestive, possibly ooc ani, fem reader

it was 1 am, you fully expected Anakin to be asleep, doing this 'walk of shame' in front of him would be exactly that... shameful. you has just had one of the WORST hookups of your life with some dude you met off tinder a couple of days ago, he was alllll talk. the definition of 'sounds to good to be true'

he didn't know ANYTHING about the female anatomy, like seriously, he basically dry humped you and rolled over. lame.

you unlocked the door of your shared apartment, opening and closing the door as quietly as possible, as not to wake Anakin. to your surprise he came walking into the living room with a mug in his hand. he was in his usual pajamas, blue and black plaid sweatpants and topless. you tried not to stare but your gazes always seem to linger when it comes to Anakin. "Hey! Thought you'd be home tomorrow?" he tilted his head in that adorably innocent way he always does. his mannerisms never matched his face, or body for that matter.

"Ah noo" you chuckle and cast your gaze downward. "Oh? Your date didn't go well?" he asked again this time raising his eyebrows with the word 'date'. he might look and sometimes act innocent but Anakin was far from it, he knew what your intentions were for the night. "Ugh, not at all." you roll your eyes and set your bag down by the door. "This dude was soooo lame." you whine.

"Aw, poor thing" Anakin says in a joking tone. "C'mere, I made some tea" he offers. "Since when do you drink tea?" you laugh "I like to pamper myself from time to time!" he said feigning offense, clasping his hand over his heart in a classically Anakin fashion.

"Tell me what happened." he sits in the bar stool at the kitchen island after handing you a cup of tea. "Ani, I don't know, it's embarrassing." your face turns pink. "Please I know about the thing you did in middle school. I think I can handle this" he laugh at you cringing from that horrid memory from your pre-teen years. "Oh you know you can't bring that up all willy-nilly Anakin!" you swat at him. his beautiful laughter filled the air

"Okay so I was going to hook up with this guy-" you start. "Shocker." Anakin smirks, interrupting you "one, rude. two, shut up. three, anyyywayys, I was going to go hook up with him and it sounded sooo promising because, damn can he talk himself up. He was so good with his words! And we get down to it and dude lasts like, two minuets! Anakin, I wish I was joking.." you bury your head in your hands out of frustration (mostly sexual). "That's the third guy this month! Like can men just be honest if they're mediocre at sex?!"

Anakin chuckles. "Blows my mind that there are guys out there who're putting up false advertisements for dick." you toss your head back and laugh "false advertisements is CRAZY" you laugh harder and Anakin joins you. "Did I lie?!" he jokes again, earning another laugh from you. "You got a point" you agree with him.

"Seriously though, that's a shame. I'd never lie like that." he takes another sip of his tea. Your mind starts swirling with questions. 'what does he mean by that?' 'I wonder what he's like in bed?' 'he has to be huge, right?' "Like honestly that's so fucked up." his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. "This sounds personal for you, what're you doing? Handing out trash dick or what?" you laugh. he chuckles again. "Hah, no. But if I was, I'd at least be honest about it."

your eyes widen but you regain composure quickly. "Oh? And what makes you so confident?" you smirk at him, wanting a rise out of him. "Well, I'm sure some of the girls weren't crying because I was dishing out bad dick." he smirks. "Wow you sure are cocky." you say with fake confidence hoping he wouldn't double down. your hopes were crushed when he stood up. he made his way behind you, placing both of his arms around you, resting his hands on the counter trapping you. he leaned close to your ear. "You know, you don't have to act out for me to prove it to you. You can just ask." his voice completely changed. you have never heard Anakin speak in such a low, sultry tone. you noticeably shivered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i highhhh key wanna finish this tomorrow bc it's midnight and i'm SLEEPY

~bunnie

[a-random-whovian7]

What your favourite Doctor says about you (just like the Master and Companion lists, this is all just jokes and my own terrible takes, absolutely no offence intended towards anyone). This is gonna be a long one, so good luck:

One (I think):

Is somehow able to sit through The Keys of Marinus whilst completely sober. Their feelings on Twice Upon a Time completely depend on whether they are able to accept that TV shows made in the 1960s will inevitably have some outdated bits or not. Loves slow-burners and less science-heavy stories, and wishes the Doctor would go back to trolling his companions again. Prays every night for The Celestial Toymaker and Marco Polo to be found. Hates the Timeless Child with a burning passion.

Two:

Two fans deserve a lot better. Despite a large chunk of their era being limited to surviving audio, PowerPoint presentations telesnaps and the, er, mixed bag of animated reconstructions, they still contribute a lot to the discussion of Classic Who and are usually well versed in the lore of the EU. 2nd Doctor fans are remarkable, as they are able to get along with pretty much every other group of fans. However, there is plenty of infighting thanks to the UNIT dating controversy and which story should be reconstructed next. If they ship Two/Jamie, they have fully earned your love and are surprisingly good if you pass them the aux.

Three:

Pretty much blows a gasket whenever some idiot says that the modern era is 'too political'. Like, I'm sorry, but was the "England for the English" scene in the Claws of Axos a little too subtle for you? Were Malcolm Hulke's scripts absolutely apolitical in your eyes? Does the mere existence of The Green Death mean nothing to you?! Oh, well maybe you should try WATCHING THE SHOW and DOING YOUR RESEARCH before you start claiming that it's become 'tOo pOLiTiCaL' because the main characters aren't always played by Whiteguy McStraight now, shouldn't you?! YOU AND YOUR MEDIOCRE OPINION SHALL COWER BEFORE MY KNOWLEDGE OF THE THIRD DOCTOR'S ERA AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP ME!

It is for this very reason that 3rd Doctor fans get along particularly well with 13th Doctor fans. Perfectly nice people with a great sense of humour and an excellent taste in episodes, unless a conversation resembling the above occurs, at which point you will see how much damage the repressed urge to do Venusian Akido can do. Refuses to admit that The Ambassadors of Death is two episodes too long.

Four:

Either a child of the 70s or chaos incarnate. Yes, 4 is pretty much the universally recognised Doctor, but that doesn't stop him from being one of the most unhinged Doctors. Loves more gothic horror-themed episodes and can ignore the somewhat questionable production qualities of early Baker stories. They have almost certainly attempted to make The Scarf at one point; whether they were successful or not entirely depends on their talent for knitting. Is surprisingly ok with admitting that Tom Baker stayed for a little too long and that his later seasons were a little underwhelming. Hasn't stopped them from watching every version of Shada though.

Five:

The tired parental figure of any group they are in. They immediately related to this Doctor when they saw 5 trying to hold it together whilst his multiple adopted humans argued, whined and got themselves trapped on doomed freighter ships. Has tried to play cricket once, but a general confusion over the rules and a few broken windows stopped that. You can take care of the cinnamon roll that is the standard 5 fan by providing them with cups of tea, giving them lots of hugs and removing all copies of Time Flight from your house.

Six:

Best fashion sense out of all the fans... somehow. Their favourite episodes are usually Vengeance on Varos or Revelation of the Daleks (both bangers), although they lean more heavily towards EU and Big Finish material, where the stories are more consistent and the costumes are less yikes. Either the best or worst fan to be around, either giving fair balanced views on the show or just being an absolute arse. Loves cats. Hates Michael Grade. Kind of ambivalent towards Mel.

Seven:

If 2nd Doctor fans are well versed in the EU lore, then these individuals are fucking academics. Constantly annoyed that 7 had two of the best seasons of Classic Who and was the darkest Doctor but is only remembered for Time and the Rani for some reason. Their favourite companion will always be Ace, which is what motivated them to watch Power of the Doctor. Usually excellent taste in stories, but is completely capable of dragging you to the depths of the EU. Wishes the Doctor would commit a few more genocides. Their religious beliefs can be summarised in the phrase "Cartmel Master Plan". Still annoyed that the most strategic Doctor was killed by the two most American things (guns and bad healthcare), but gets along well with 8 fans despite that. Somehow understands Ghost Light after just 3 rewatches.

Eight:

Big Finish fan. Basically willing to explain the entire plot of Dark Eyes if you ask them. Thinks the TV Movie is just OK, and has rewatched Night of the Doctor too many times to count. Loves a sad boy, and has definitely referred to 8 as a "poor little meow meow" at some point. Wishes 8's TARDIS interior was still intact and that he'll get his own live action series. Had an actual heart attack when he appeared in Power of the Doctor. Usually a bisexual from my personal experience, and looking at Paul McGann in the 90s, I can see why.

War (or is it Nine?):

We're stepping into the depths of the Moffat cult with this one. Wants a more traumatised Doctor, and kind of wishes we saw more of the Time War beyond the laser battle in Day of the Doctor. Content to sit back and watch due to the fact that the War Doctor had the perfect arc in his one episode, although they are happy that the War Doctor still pops up in the EU. Bridging the gap between the modern and classic series means they get along well with everyone except Shalka fans.

Nine (the Curse of Fatal Death one):

Does this one count? Just loves the classic series. Still praying for Joanna Lumley as the Doctor. Nowhere near as obnoxious as the Shalka fans and surprisingly funny.

Nine (the Scream of the Shalka one):

They pride themselves on being 'against the trend' and being fans of an overlooked bit of Doctor Who history. Doesn't quite realise that Scream of the Shalka was basically an B-tier Big Finish story with janky animation. Wants Richard E Grant to show up again. Constantly attempting to upset Eccleston and Hurt fans, only to get angry when everyone forgets Scream of the Shalka existed. They definitely listen to Weezer.

Ten, no, another Nine (the Eccleston one):

The word "fantastic" is permanently superglued to their vocabulary, and yet it never gets old. Owns a leather jacket too. Wishes that the BBC hadn't been stupid and Eccleston had stayed on for another series, but doesn't hold it against Tennant. Knows the Daleks were at their best in S1. Really wants the Reapers to return, and was utterly distraught after Chibs kind of ruined 9's role in the wider arc by blowing up Gallifrey again. Major nostalgia for the 2000s with this one, and is slowly becoming a member of the Big Finish cult thanks to Eccleston's return. Understandably forgot Adam was a thing. Both loves and hates John Barrowman.

Ten? Eleven? Ten and a half? The Tennant one. I hate numbers:

Their first experience to Doctor Who was during the golden age- wait, no, sorry, the RTD cult has threatened to terminate my membership if I'm not honest with this one.

Either a child of the 2000s, a member of the aforementioned RTD cult or someone who just likes the show to be more emotionally resonant. Well, that or they are the blandest person alive. If they acknowledge how good 10's arc was in terms of deconstructing the Doctor and setting up his fall from grace via misplaced attachments and vanity, then absolutely someone to be around. If they simply say "because he was popular", definitely bland. We all know Tennant was popular, it's still not one of the many valid reasons to love him. They have an easygoing relationship with 4 and 11 fans, and otherwise OK relations with the rest of Doctors fan groups, although there is a bit of friction between 13 stans due to 10 being dragged into a lot of 13's media post-2020 to boost ratings. They didn't like it because it cheapned 10's return and era whilst also overshadowing 13. 13 stans didn't like it because it basically gave the message that the BBC had given up on 13 before her era had finished.

Definitely excited for the 60th after the regeneration and the announcement of RTD's return. Has tried owning a pair of converses, only to find out that they aren't exactly cheap. Has fought for the Ten/Rose ship on multiple occasions. Tried hair gel once, with disastrous consequences.

Huh. This one was incredibly easy to write. All I had to do was look in a mirror.

Thirte- no, Eleven:

Major ADHD energy in the best possible way. Saw the chaotic excitable Doctor and immediately fell in love. They will not rest until they have forced every former Doctor to read the "Hello Stonehenge" speech. They have also cosplayed the most out of any fan, due to the availability of fezzes and bow ties. Definitely the most fun to be around at a party. Was disappointed by Matt Smith's decision not to return for the 60th, especially after the absolute banger that was Day of the Doctor. If they ship 11 with River, they're cool, even though 11 was very asexual in S5. If they ship him with anyone else, then yikes. Wishes for the show to return to a quirky fairytale tone again.

If they were present during the SuperWhoLock days, keep an eye on them. You're only one drink away from dragging us back to 2013, and I ain't reading any of that fanfiction again *shudders*.

Fourte- FUCK, Twelve:

A certified member of the Steven Moffat cult, or just someone who likes some of their stories to have a slightly more mature tone. Has tried to play the electric guitar more than once, only to be forced to stop by their partners or housemates. Either willing to admit some of the flaws of the era or strongly defends it, with no inbetween. Absolutely correct in their assertion that S9 and 10 absolutely slapped, although this cam be undermined if they try to defend Sleep No More. If they ship River and 12, then you can trust them with anything, and they will offer you good relationship advice. If they ship 12 and Clara in a romantic way (which is strange to me cos i always got platonic BFF vibes from them, but that's just me), they definitely have relationship advice, although waiting 4 billion years to get your memory wiped is a questionable means of resolving conflict. They have a pair of the sonic sunglasses. Cried when Capaldis majestic floofy hair got shaved off for a superhero film.

Thirteen? That's right? Phew, finally getting the hang of this. Ok, Thirteen:

There are two types of 13 fan. The first is cinnamoniest of rolls. Is just happy to sit back and have fun, thus allowing them to enjoy pretty much any episode (something that a lot of people could learn from). Immediately realised that Jodie is an amazing Doctor and deserves more praise and justice. Definitely shipped Thasmin, and are the best at constructive criticism, recognising what worked and didn't in a respectful, polite way (again, something we could all learn from). Wierdly enough, they get along well with all the Doctor fans, as they are a wholesome ray of sunshine that reminds us that every era has something to offer, no matter the general consensus.

The second type masquerades as the first, but gets all hipster-y and more than willing to use the term 'overrated' when RTD or Tennant are mentioned (so basically a healthy 80% of the #antiRTD tag).

Both are convinced that the Chibnall Era will receive a massive reappraisal like the 12th Doctor's era did, despite the odds of that happening being the same as an on-screen Thasmin kiss. I'm so sorry, that's a really mean line to end this bit on. Let's instead end by saying Haunting of Villa Diodati is an absolute banger of an episode.

Ruth:

Loves the admittedly cool concept of a mystery incarnation. The rest depends on their theory of where the Ruth Doctor fits in. If they use the season 6B theory, then they have an encyclopedic knowledge of the classical series and the EU regardless of whether they have watched it or not. If they use the Timeless Child/Division theory, then they basically settled for the easier version of 6B after looking into the insane asylum that is classic who and EU discourse (wise choice). If they think she's from an alternative universe, thinks that she's Omega, Rassilon, The Rani, The Master or any other figure, then they practically have a gold medal in Mental Gymnastics. Either way, all of them don't like to admit that they are unfortunately limited to 4 episodes (three of them being fairly mid, the other being a mild car crash) and a pretty good comic. Cool fashion taste. Gets along with 13 stans and, surprisingly, 2nd Doctor fans.

Fourteen- oh for fucks sake:

YOU ARE TENTH DOCTOR FANS. GO BACK TO EARLIER ON IN THE POST. YES, I KNOW THAT'S THE BBC'S OFFICIAL LINE AT THE MOMENT. YES, I KNOW YOU'RE HYPED FOR THE 60TH, I AM A HYPED RTD CULTIST TOO. JUST WAIT UNTIL SEPTEMBER. P L E A S E.

Fourt- no fifteen- no, fourteen- BBC, HAVE MERCY:

Only in the Doctor Who fandom can a Doctor who has only appeared in a brief clip and some photos have a fully developed fanbase. I should know, I've already joined it. Ncuti's photos in that suit sealed the deal. Either an RTD cultist or someone just looking forward to a fresh new direction. Also very fashionable. Has a somewhat complicated relationship with 13th Doctor fans due to the fact that Ncuti's first season and casting completely overshadowed S13 and the specials, but Ncuti also had to deal with the same levels of toxicity from the same 'fans' who threw temper tantrums at Jodie's casting in 2017. Best haircuts out of all the Doctor Who fans. Strange but true.

Full Fathom Five:

Y'all scare me.

Zagreus:

Y'all terrify me.

The Watcher:

Y'all confuse me.

The Valeyard:

Has wanted a darker series since god knows when. Was kind of annoyed when the Time Lord Victorious arc wasn't dedicated to a whole series. Also, the Valeyard is the Shadow the Hedgehog of the Whoniverse. I refuse to elaborate any further.

The Curator:

"Alright gang, let's see who the Curator fans really are!"

Pulls off mask

"Fourth Doctor fans?!"

All jokes aside, they just want a more experienced Doctor. Accepts that the show will have to end one day, and is cool with that, since they already have the perfect ending. Either cool grandad vibes or an actual grandad. Good knitwear. Their response to everything is simply putting the kettle on.

Doctor Moon:

Now these ones are very, very rare. I personally love the theory that Doctor Moon is a future version of the Doctor who is keeping River and the Library safe, but limiting your favourite Doctor to two episodes and an endorsement of the theory from Steven Moffat? Now that takes guts, and I like it. Usually partial to classy clothes, and talks in a very formal tone. Their best subject is usually maths.

Dr Who (Peter Cushing):

Unashamedly insane. Saw the absolutely glorious cheese-fest that was the 1960s Dalek movies and ended up loving one of the most unique versions of the Doctor. Is absolutely fine with bypassing 90% of the TV shows lore, making them really fun to talk to. Time Lords? Nah. Sonic screwdriver? Nope. Their Doctor is a wacky grandpa who built a multi-dimensional time machine in their back garden, and they love it. Is a sucker for Alternate Universe stories and usually loves classic B-movies. Knows that the movies kind of suck as adaptations, but as pure 1960s camp, they are unbeatable. Absolute legends.

All of Them:

The glue that holds this fanbase together. Enlightened individuals who have to check in every now and then to make sure that we mere mortals are behaving ourselves. They just simply enjoy the show and hold no biases. Absolutely infuriating to talk to for that very reason.

[heliads]

Enola Holmes x sibling!reader who isn’t as smart as Enola and feels inadequate because of it; and gets hurt on a case and worries Enola?

'my mind isn't yours' - enola holmes

masterlist

To be a Holmes is to be beyond anything or anyone else. No one in your family would ever say this aloud, of course; it didn’t need to be said, and all of your direct blood relations knew better than to say things that weren’t needed. You have your mind for the long, extensive, impractical thoughts, but spoken words are meant to be heard and pondered over for generations. A Holmes does not need to state their supposed victory over their neighbours. It is simply known and celebrated in the glorious expanse of their own private intellect.

Sometimes, though, again in the quiet confines of your mind, you wonder if this divine knowledge skipped a beat when it came to you. You may be a Holmes in blood and legal right, but that doesn’t mean you think like them. Sometimes, it feels a bit like being an outsider in your own family, watching Sherlock and Enola race off on proverbial puzzles while you sit back and try to pick up the pieces they’ve already put together.

You try not to let it get to you, but it’s hard not to feel some sort of inferior. You’re a clever student in your own right, but clever alone does not a Holmes make. You’re supposed to be a genius like your brother or a prodigy like your sister, but instead you just feel like you. Y/N Holmes, not a screwup in any sense but worse than that to some– completely, utterly normal. Base level. Right in the middle of the pack if a little bit above.

To a Holmes, though, mediocrity is a mortal sin. Sherlock and Enola seem leagues out of your reach. Since Enola is closest to you in age, you feel the sharp stab of that comparison with extra burn. She excels even despite the extra burden of being a young woman in this world of yours, but you could never burst the bubble and go shooting far beyond the stars like her.

You’ve never brought up any of this to either Enola or Sherlock, of course, but there’s no reason to do so. You have no doubt that they both realized your inadequacies compared to them far early on. Why comment on something that’s so obvious? Every time you’re working on a case together and they both figure out the twist in the plot ages before you, you can feel that deep cut slice open afresh. You don’t have to be a complete genius, you were never planning on becoming a mastermind academic anyway, but goodness knows you really want to feel like something compared to them.

It aches away, but what can you do? With your mother off doing who knows what, Sherlock and Enola are the closest you have to family. You have your friends, of course, but they don’t understand what it is to be a Holmes, even if you don’t entirely feel like one all the time either. To put it simply, it’s your siblings or nothing sometimes, and goodness knows there’s an awful lot of aching in nothingness even when the only alternative makes you feel terrible about yourself too.

And thus you find a way to sit on the outskirts of the case discussion and puzzle solving sessions anyway. Maybe you can’t always be the first to untangle the riddles, but you can be the first to offer up a cup of tea, and sometimes there’s something they’ve overlooked in their grand hurry to get to the finish line that you can point out and feel useful for along the way. It’s not awful, no, not in the slightest. You just wish it could be a little better as well.

You’re reminded of this little agony whenever they stumble upon a new case, which, as luck would have it, happened recently. Mysterious ransom notes are popping up all over town. Some group of strangers is threatening the top businesses around, demanding cash and gold in exchange for being left alone. No one was really taking the notes seriously until a small bank ignored the messages and had their establishment robbed before being burnt to the ground.

Now, the case has been turned over to the Holmes’ possession. Well, it’s been given to Sherlock and Enola, to be precise. They’ve been kind enough to allow you to join their inner circle while they try to puzzle the whole thing out, but you swear there’s this unspoken agreement that they’ll be the ones finding the solution, not you. It’s not like they’d ever bar you from speaking, they just know that you won’t have anything new to say that they hadn’t already come up with.

You sit silently, watching them go back and forth. Sherlock and Enola get lost in their own world at times like this, forgetting there’s even a country or universe outside of their feverish planning. At the end of an hour’s time, though, they’ve decided that the criminals must be hidden somewhere near an abandoned railway station near the southern end of the city, and that their main modus operandi involves bribing secretaries in each building to anonymously drop off the notes, then clue them into easy ways to get into the businesses without getting caught.

More importantly, this group of thieves has managed to get their hands on a master ring of keys to the city through bribing an overworked and embittered assistant of the chief inspector. So long as these crooks have that key ring, they’ll be able to let themselves into whatever building they please, and the demands will just keep worsening until the entire city has been wrung dry.

An idea is occurring to you. You may not have been able to figure out the clues quite as easily as Sherlock and Enola, but you can still be helpful. While they’re haggling over how exactly to move forward, an idea is already occurring to you. You take after your mother in one important manner:  you are a person of action. When you are given direction, you follow it exactly. And, when you come across a situation in need of a physical solution, you take charge and get the job down. Adrenaline is your best friend, followed quickly by good balance and good coordination. This, at last, is where you can step in.

Sherlock and Enola are too busy with their plotting to notice when you sneak out of Sherlock’s flat and creep into the city. You’ve got an hour or two until nightfall, which means it’s the perfect time to strike. These robbers will have day jobs and places to be. There’s a reason all of the attacks happened at night, it’s because these people had to keep up pretenses until they could break into the businesses under the cover of darkness.

That means you’ll have a very short window of time in which to find their hideout and grab the master key ring before they come back. You don’t doubt that the key ring will be in their foxhole near the abandoned railway station; they can’t exactly risk bringing it back to any of their respective flats and having it found out by the maids or neighbours.

You stealthily make your way over to the abandoned railway station. The sun is setting much faster than you’d like, so much for taking your time to thoroughly scout out the place. Then again, that doesn’t much matter. What’s most important is getting that key ring and getting out, then seeing the looks on Sherlock and Enola’s faces when they realize you’ve saved the day.

It is this thought of victory that propels you into the station house. You stalk down the dusty corridors, checking in rooms and peering in the drawers of desks. Most everything here seems long abandoned, but there’s one room at the far end of the hall that seems most frequently used, at least judging by the smears of fresh mud outside the door. 

After pausing to listen carefully in case of approaching footsteps, you quickly try the doorknob and are surprised to find it opens easily. These guys were so sure of themselves that they didn’t even bother to lock the door. You try a few drawers in the desk in the center of the room, and you grin in silent victory when you find the key ring sitting in one of them, covered halfway by a stack of folders labeled with the names of various buildings in the city.

You grab the key ring and the folders as well, just in case extra evidence is needed. Just as you’re straightening up, though, you hear sounds echoing through the dusty hallways. You panic, quickly closing the desk drawers and heading for the door. You won’t have time to run, though; you can see a silhouette in the corridor, right outside the door.

Instead, you flatten yourself to the wall right next to the door. Moments after you get into position, the door flies open and a man steps inside. Brow furrowed, he calls out a name, likely one of his compatriots.

“Miller? Was that you I heard?”

The second he’s clear of the door, you immediately scurry back outside. You do your best to be quiet, but the man whips around.

“Hey! Get back here!”

You’re not all that inclined to follow instructions, especially when doing so would likely bring great danger onto yourself, so you hurl yourself out into the corridor, dashing down the dusty floor in a mad sprint. The man immediately gives chase. He almost catches up to you by the end of the hallway, but a series of quick turns give you a chance to put more distance between the two of you again.

All that’s left between you and the freedom of the outside air is a wide, rickety staircase. You go up the stairs as quickly as you can. Risking a glance behind you so you can tell how close the man is behind you, your eyes widen when you realize he’s pulled out a knife. You’re almost to the top, so close, but the man lunges at you in an attempt to slow you down and you feel a hot pain as the knife cuts through your sleeve and slices your arm. It’s not a deep cut, or you don’t think so, at least, but it’s the extra incentive you need to push yourself to the top of the staircase and out into the open.

Immediately, you’re greeted with loud shouting. For a moment, you panic, and then you realize it’s the inspector with his men. “You’re alright,” one of them tells you, “Stand aside so we can put the thief under arrest.”

You nod, taking a hasty sidestep so you won’t get in their way. The robber comes up just seconds after you, but upon seeing the police, he immediately starts sprinting down the abandoned railway. The inspector and his men give chase, and you watch them go shouting down into the gloomy distance.

You’re not alone for long. Sherlock comes up to you, shaking his head. “That was an absurd move to pull. Give me the key ring and folders, I’ve got to get this to the inspector as soon as possible.”

You want to protest that you should be the one handing over the evidence since you went to so much trouble to get it, but one firm look from Sherlock reminds you of how much trouble you’re probably in for pulling a stunt like this and you quickly hand over the materials. He starts walking back towards the city proper, trading out his spot by your side with your sister.

Enola. Great. She looks furious. “Just what were you thinking?” She asks incredulously. “That was ridiculously stupid. And look, you’re bleeding. This is awful.”

You frown. “Don’t call me stupid.”

“I’m not calling you stupid, just the idea to break into the robbers��� hideaway,” she clarifies. “I mean, why on Earth would you feel compelled to do this?”

Looking at the tortured expression on her face makes the last of your confidence bleed away. The whole point of retrieving the key ring was so your siblings would finally feel like you might be one of their equals, but now they’re even more convinced of your bad decision-making skills. This was precisely the opposite of what was supposed to happen.

“Well, that’s the thing,” you say desperately. “If I can’t be the smart one, if I can’t be the one making all the clever plans and figuring out the loopholes like you and Sherlock, at least I can be the brave one. At least that’s something right I can do.”

Enola’s face slackens. “What are you talking about?”

You laugh bitterly. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now. Come on, you can crack cases and solve puzzles in your sleep but you can’t understand your own sibling? I’m not like you two. I’m not as smart as you and Sherlock, and I hate that.”

Enola shakes her head. “I’ve never thought that in my entire life. We’re both chatterboxes, obviously, but just because you weren’t talking as much as either of us didn’t mean I thought you weren’t as smart. I just assumed you were doing your thinking in your head instead of out loud, which was what I was supposed to be doing, anyway.”

You look at her cautiously. “Really?”

“Really,” she promises. “Y/N, the thought had never so much as occurred to me. I’m so sorry, I wish I had realized you felt this way sooner. You’re my sibling. Of course I hold you in the greatest regards. I mean, I never would have been brave enough to march into the thieves’ hideout like that on my own, not without several hours of planning to make myself better about it. You up and decided it just like that. I was so impressed with the whole affair, only I was so worried about you that I forgot to tell you.”

You smile at her. “I’m glad you think so, Enola.”

“Well, of course I do,” she says exasperatedly. “What else would I think about? Now come on, we’ve got to get that arm of yours bandaged. Maybe I’ll see about getting the paper to put something in about you being a local hero while I’m at it, too. It would be quite deserved.”

You laugh. “That’s more than I was expecting, to be sure. I’ll settle for knowing that you’re proud.”

“That, of course, is already decided,” Enola declares, and starts to lead you back into town. Watching the sun set overhead, you think that this little rescue mission of yours went quite according to plan indeed. Perhaps you’ll have to stage another one fairly soon.

enola tag list: @mayfieldss

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[artsybridgerton]

Hello there! I read that you wanted to write a Benedict Bridgerton x reader so I want to request that for you :)

you can write anything but I wanted that they meet for pure case and that reader is a really cheerful, happy and clumsy person lol

idk if regency/modern, feel comfortable to choose!

thank you in anticipation and have a good day/night! 💟

Hi @shoyooss! Thank you for the request! So I tried my best but i think it came out a little cringy.

Could be the fact that i couldn't think of how a cheerful/happy person is, probably cause i've never been that myself but hey, i gave it a shot :D

I hope you like it even a little and i apologize for everything you will read on my blog :D

Thanks for trusting me tho <3

with love, Essy<3

p.s. the pigeon part is actually based on true events in yours truly's life :)

_______________________________________________

warnings: my mediocre writing lol

modern au

Pieces of paper

You’ve been looking for a job with no luck but recently you started working in this bar as a waitress, with no experience at all. You may or may not have lied on your resumé with having years of experience.

It was a busy morning and you were told to stay outside of the bar to welcome in the customers other than that you were also in charge of keeping the pigeons away from the people eating and the plates that were yet to be taken inside to be washed.

As you were fighting off the pigeons your coworker came to you.  “Hey, when you’re done with that, help this man with his order ok?”

“No problem!” You smiled at her as you quickly ran inside leaving the customers fend for themselves. “At Least they didn’t poop on me!” you thought to yourself.

Taking a tray you approached the counter to bring the order to the customer: a cappuccino, a glass of orange juice and avocado on toast. As you turned around to accidentally bump into a tall man spilling the customer’s coffee on him.

He yelped slightly. “Wow, that coffee was hot!”

“I am so sorry sir, I didn’t see you!” You reach for your rag wanting to try and clean the stain on his shirt but by doing so you accidentally let go of the tray you were holding with both hands making everything fall on his feet. 

“Great heavens!” you immediately crouch to clean up. “Sir I will personally hand wash your clothes if you let me, I'm deeply sorry!”

“It’s fine miss” He smiled and also crouched to help you clean. 

“Well you could always say it’s a fashion statement!” You say trying to make the situation less awkward. At that he chuckled a little. “Really sir, let me at least offer you some coffee, i mean it! The whole breakfast perhaps? Lunch? Is dinner more of your liking?”

“Well that escalated quickly, I might just assume you want to ask me out” He joked and slightly moved closer to you while you were looking down putting the food back on the tray.

“Wou-would you want me to?” Panic-flirting was an ability you developed recently but now you directly head-butted him when you looked back up to him so he lost his balance.

“Sir! I didn’t mean to do that! Would you like an ambulance?” You panicked.

You help him back up. Only now you got a good look at his face and thought he was actually very handsome.

He let out a laugh in confusion. “Miss, really everything is fine, don’t worry” He cleaned himself off. 

“I’m y/n, this is my number, i will gladly pay whatever damage i caused to your person sir” you say as you write down your contact on a piece of paper. 

“Benedict” He offered you his hand to shake. 

You shaked his hand, keeping eye contact, almost mesmerized by his eyes.

“Miss, I'm still waiting for my order!” The other customer yelled.

“Oh shit right!” You were woken up from the trance and went back to the counter to retake the order.

In the meantime, Benedict ordered a cup of tea and sat down to enjoy it.

Some time has passed and you were now cleaning up the tables.

As you passed near Benedict’s table he stopped you and handed you a piece of paper. “My number.” You look at him confused. “You still have to offer me a meal, dinner? was it?” He winked. 

You couldn’t help but smile at him as you accepted the paper.

[gabessquishytum]

So we all agree that Hob is the World's Greatest Lover, 600 year reigning Pussy Eating Champion, etc etc. But think of the comedy potential if instead he was just...kind of mediocre at sex. After all these centuries he's still satisfied with a quick wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, and he's not a particularly generous lover. A lot of the sex he's had over the years has been with prostitutes, so he doesn't feel very guilty about not making sure they finish, and his wives and long-term partners have mostly been a bit prudish/sheltered because of the time periods they lived in (some of them may not have even been aware that female orgasms were a thing). But none of them ever complained, so he assumed he was pretty good at sex.

And sure, he's had experiences with men (he's been a sailor at times, after all), but back in his day oral sex with any gender was kind of unhygienic and gross (cue the "ripe smegmatic sausage" meme) so the man's never given a blowjob in his unnaturally long life. Now, he *thinks* he knows all there is to know about sex because, to be fair, he has probably done it more times than any other human alive. But the reality is, his idea of "kinky" is any position other than missionary.

So he's surprised (and his ego is a bit bruised) when Dream seems disappointed but amused after their first time. He's worried Dream is going to dump him (and he's beating himself up, thinking he's so stupid for ever believing he could live up to Dream's standards), but Dream just smiles fondly at him and promises to teach him everything and train him to be a worthy lover for an Endless.

So after that, every night when Hob is in the Dreaming they work on his sexual education. Training montage: Dream makes him practice sucking his dick and eating his pussy until he really is the Pussy Eating Champion. Dream expects to come at least three times before Hob is even allowed to think about his own orgasm. Dream fucks his brains out and makes him a plug and a cock cage out of dreamstuff to wear in the waking, so he's always ready and can't cum unless it's on Dream's cock. Hob is, of course, a very eager and studious pupil, and he's more than happy to do anything Dream wants; he's realizing he's actually a lot kinkier than he thought. He loves being dommed by Dream, and Dream considers his education to be complete when Hob is able to successfully Dom *him* (which may or may not have been his goal from the beginning). The student has become the master, etc etc.

I love it here, you guys are so good to me <3 bad sex is so one of my kinks, especially coupled with a lil humiliation kink.

It's entirely fair to believe that Hob might have got a little bit too comfortable over the years. Recently his sexual experience has very much aligned with his modern image - middle class, a little boring, would probably rather just have a cup of tea. He's been sleeping with women mostly, and sadly he's been lulled into a false sense of security when they assure him that yes they did cum, honestly. Even in the decades before that a lot of what he did was drug fuelled and he can barely remember most of it.

Dream is a little disappointed, but on the whole he's amused and quite looking forward to giving Hob an education - after firmly telling him that his dick is nothing special and he really needs to work on his stamina (Hob is sitting there in stunned silence wondering how on earth this conversation is making him hard.)

Hob spends the next few months not being allowed to put his dick anywhere near Dream anyway. He's only allowed to pleasure Dream with his mouth, and only very occasionally allowed to cum. Dream is the strictest of teachers and resorts to corporal punishment when his student doesn't behave (spoiler alert, Hob also enjoys this more than he ought to).

Slowly Hob picks up the skills that he either lost or never had in the first place, and Dream becomes much more agreeable with him. After nearly half a year Hob is finally allowed to fuck Dream again, only this time he's wearing a cock ring and his purpose is only to bring his lover pleasure. Dream is so pleased with his progress that he even lets Hob cum inside him.

Before long Hob is coming home from work, grabbing Dream by the waist and hauling him over the sofa to tongue-fuck him until he screams. Which was more or less what Dream was hoping for during their first encounter. He's quite happy to sit on Hob’s (admittedly quite nice) dick these days, because he knows that Hob’s primary objective will forevermore be to make him cum.

Even if he does occasionally have to tie Dream up to do it. Oh yes, Dream needs to be educated too - about the perils of working too much and not letting off steam. Hob is only too happy to take on the role of teacher, this time.

[marcelllyn]

Daughter of vampires.

This is the first part of a short fanfic about Dean and a vampire's daughter. Synopsis: With several cases of something that looks like vampires, Dean and Sam turn to an old friend, perhaps for Dean she was more than an ex-friend. But most importantly, she is the daughter of a vampire. Warnings: Blood, sexual content, do not read if you are underage! English is not my first language, vampires, light and heavy anguish.

Author's note:I was dying to write a tragic and vampire story, so I took Dean (my great love) as a guinea pig. As I said before, this is the first part, today (I think) I will post the second part.

In the middle of the cold winter, there were two idiots standing in front of his front door. After all, her life was at a standstill, following a normal pattern and Dean felt it like a trained dog sniffing out drugs.

It was three o'clock in the morning when the doorbell rang. She was afraid to answer it, but something inside her made her wrap the blanket around herself and go downstairs.

When she saw Sam and Dean standing there, she felt her blood boil so much that she didn't even need the blanket.

- What are you doing here? - His jaw tensed as he awkwardly moved the door.

- We need a place to stay for the night, and we've heard that someone here is in trouble with... - Sam was trying to explain himself, but Dean was already walking in.

- Nice house, it's just like you. Pink everywhere, it looks like Barbie's house. - Dean said sarcastically. - We need a little help. You know, with vampires. - She threw herself on the sofa.

She was amazed at the man's cluelessness, but she still made room for Sam to come in.

- Would you like some tea, water or coffee? - I said in a quitting tone.

- Beer. - Dean smiled. - Three, please.

Sam slapped his brother hard on the shoulder and smiled embarrassed. And said:

- Tea, if that's all right.

She put her Scooby-Doo print blanket on the arm of the sofa. She walked to the kitchen, filled a teapot with water and put it on the fire. She sighed deeply, trying to put away all the sorrows that were trying to surface.

- I thought you'd prefer puppies. - Dean's tired voice acted like a lever for hurt. - Sam went to the car to get our backpacks.

She looked at him indignantly, her mouth hanging open as if she wanted to say something. But she didn't, she just stared into his green eyes with hatred.

- Cats suited me better. - She took three cups with kittens printed on them from the cupboard.

- It fills me with pride to see that you've managed to build a life. As an artist.

“It fills me with pride” that little phrase numbed her body. She turned her face away with a shy smile. She wasn't exactly happy with him, but she didn't want to be rude.

- Unfortunately, I can't say the same, you haven't learned anything over the last few years.

There was an uncomfortable silence, they both wanted to talk, but they couldn't, trapped in their own egos.

Dean opened the fridge and took out a bottle of beer; before Valkyrie could intervene, he was already drinking.

- Sam should be at Stanford. - You shouldn't be taking him down the same road, you should be being a good big brother and protecting him from this mediocre life your father made you both live for so long. - The hurt was spewing out.

- Don't start talking about what you don't know, cute? - He replied harshly. - He's not a child, he knows very well what he's doing.

The two of them glared at each other. She wanted to take one of the cups and smash it over his head, but that would only remain in her mind. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

- I see you've adopted three cats, what are their names? - Sam appeared in the kitchen.

She turned to pour an equal measure into each cup of water.

- The black cat is Romeo, the orange cat is Flor and the mixed cat is Juliet. - She replied, pouring the tea into the cups. - Vampires, then?

- Yes, there have been many cases of people being killed with their necks cut open and teeth marks. And others who survive the attacks are spreading it like some kind of virus. - Sam picked up a cup.

It was true, there had been a few cases of the dead in the newspaper, and one of them was even an acquaintance. A man she had painted, a beautiful picture, but the news was not that he had died but that his body had disappeared from the morgue. She didn't bother to do any more research or think that this could be a case of vampires.

- What do you two want from me?

- Help, you know, your father was a great vampire, and you're, you know... - Sam gestured with his hands, trying to find words.

- A decoy. - Dean joked. - We think it might be your father again, and as well as being his daughter, you're half vampire. - Sam and Val looked at him in confusion. - In a less literal way, of course. Anyway, are you going to help us or not?

- Dean, my father died six years ago. - He snorted.

- That's what you think, we've never seen his body. - Dean said, agitated. - And he could very well be doing these things to get your attention. - His accusatory tone infuriated her.

- He's dead. - She took a deep breath. - I'm sorry, I've retired from this hunting business.

- You coward. - Dean muttered with a feigned cough.

- What did you say? He raised his voice and approached the man with his finger pointed at him.

- I said it! - Dean shouted, then Sam stopped in front of them.

- Dean doesn't want that, I'm sure. And we really don't have time for these silly fights. - Sam covertly stepped on his brother's foot. - Please, Valkyrie, think about the people you're protecting.

The woman sighed deeply and then had an answer.

- I will help you. But everything has a price. - She hummed. - I want a ride in the Impala and a free pass to slap and pinch Dean whenever I want.

- Done. - Sam held out his hand.

Dean tried to say something, but Sam gave him an ugly look and thought it best just to hold out his hand. She shook the men's hands.

- Well, I've got a sofa and a guest room, you can make yourselves comfortable.

- Thank you very much, Val. - Sam hugged her tightly. Picking her up off the floor. - It's good to see you again.

- It's really nice, now put her down, Sammy! - Dean said impatiently.

That done, Valkyrie patted him on the shoulder three times and smiled in gratitude. She loved Sam like a best friend and that never changed even after many years.

- Make yourselves at home, but no mess, no unknown women, no porn.

- You heard Dean, no porn. - Sam sneered softly at his brother.

- Shut up.

- I'm going to bed, good night to you both, and I'll wake you up tomorrow.

- Good night, Mom! - Dean shouted as she ran up the stairs.

- I'm not dead yet! - She shouted back.

[the-snake-and-the-statue]

"You've grown soft."

Slyn looks up at Hexe, who paces him. Despite her short stature, she still somehow towers over him as he kneels.

"My dear-"

"Queen."

"... my queen, I know not what you speak of, I am just tired...."

"You have nothing to be tired of. Or if you do, I implore you... tell me what you are tired of."

Slyn doesn't have an answer. Hexe continues to pace.

"Tea... with Odette and Yume. And blaming it on a tiny snake sat to replace your finger, when we know the snakes only act in accordance to you," she whispers, as if each word offends her.

"......."

"You're sympathizing with them. Growing soft. Weak."

"I am NOT weak..." He shoots her a glare, only to cower under her gaze sharply directing to him.

"This is not like you. You could have responded in a multitude of ways. Confiscated the tea. Broke the dishes. Broke Odette. That would have been very satisfying.

"But you didn't. You ASKED for tea. How special must you feel, that Odette poured you a cup. That someone who fears you so much was kind to you. I hope you don't seriously believe she served it to you out of kindness.... she served you out of fear. And while I would commend you for using your power to force those to obey, only for some miserable tea..... what a waste of authority," Hexe mumbles, snapping her fingers.

Slyn suddenly gags and lurches over.

He opens his eyes to the sight of tea splattered on the ground in front of him, mixed with small bits of his breakfast. He looks up so he doesn't get sick again from the sight.

Hexe continues to circle Slyn. "Ever since that girl has arrived, I've watched your edge slowly grow dull. You are no longer the sword you once were.... you are growing sympathetic. Your value in our goals has decreased, and your empathy has grown. A true king does not let his empathy get in his way of the greater good."

"My queen, nonsense!" Slyn suddenly blurts. "I have NOT forgotten or abandoned our goals, my views are resolute."

"Your snake seems otherwise."

Slyn looks at Hebi-kun.... the snake is shaking, terrified.

"I.... I cannot control him..."

"Of course you can't. It's you. It's the true you. It acts how you want to act. You've grown into a curious man, you care about others. It is curious, exploring what you know you should not due to your duties. It is admirable of the work your residents have 'accomplished', despite it all being mediocre at best. And when Yume praises it for being 'nice and sweet', it denies it. As if it feels it is not enough. As if you feel you are not enough."

".... Hexe, my love, my dear-"

"QUEEN."

Slyn flinches back, words escaping him.

"This is purely unacceptable, you are no longer the man I married. And your damned curse is proving that, not just to me but to everyone around you. Yume most certainly knows that snake is just an outlet for you, who you have become, who you wish to be. How humiliating that must be for you."

Slyn's heart drops.

"No... no, I'm still the man you married- I'm still the man who loves you, don't you EVER imply I don't love you, I am forever yours and loyal only to you.... my queen, please. I just..... I just need to have control over him. If I can control him, then I can continue to be the king you desire."

"I highly doubt such foolish claims."

"My queen.." Slyn looks up at Hexe now in front of him, begging on his knees. "I would not lie to you, I would not say it if I did not believe it...... please, you're the only one who can help me with this. I didn't ask to be like this."

"No one did."

"Yes but this is serious, he is impeding my ability to properly rule as you wish!! Perhaps, just once.... you could make an exception and....." he trails off into incoherent mumbles.

Hexe's demand is like a snarl. "SPEAK UP."

Slyn flinches once again, his request hardly audible. "Perhaps you could.... revoke my curse? Just this once...? For Hebi-kun? Without it in the way, I can rule correctly, just as you want me to...! Please.... I've been so good to you.... please, may I?"

Hexe stares at him, frozen like a statue. For a moment Slyn wonders if she's about to smite him right then and there, and he squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation, head down.

A sudden hand brushes against his neck, sharp fingernails tilting his chin up. A welcome shiver runs down Slyn's back. It had been so long since she touched him like this.

Hexe is mere inches from his face, smile sick and sweet as always. Only a blind man would be unable to see how fake it is, yet he chooses to believe it's genuine. He's making her smile.... and seeing it again reminds him why everything is the way it is; all for that horrifically fake smile.

"You remember our agreement. Our vows. No one may be free of their curse, no ones curse is revoked until it no longer is a curse. You know this, my dear."

Slyns heart leaps as he nods frantically.

"Therefore I cannot revoke your curse, even just for this one snake."

He's disappointed, but nods again. Whatever makes her happy.

"However."

..... wait what?

"You are so kind to me Slyn. You're the only one who truly likes me. The only one who is truly loyal. And, because I am a generous queen, I offer you another solution"

Slyn can hardly breathe as his face lights up. Hexe, offering a genuine solution? It feels like his efforts have finally paid off. This is what he's been looking for.

"Yes, my queen?"

*clank*

Slyn pries his eyes away from his beloved just long enough to see something silvery and shiny on the ground..... his blood runs cold once he recognizes the shape. A cleaver.

"Off with its head."

Her fingers trail away from Slyn's chin, nails leaving just the thinnest cuts below his stubble. Every part of Slyn trembles as he stares at the cleaver. Each snake stares, some confused, some disturbed, some horrified. None of which are moreso any of those three than Hebi-kun.

"..... what?"

"You want control. I can not give you control. However, I can give you the option to remove the problem at its core."

For once, Slyn feels as if this is way too far. He can't do this. He can't cut off the head of one of his own snakes, he can't cut off one of his own fingers. Maybe if it was just a finger he could, but the head of a snake?

"..... no.... no, no I- Hexe, I.... I can't do this."

"Of course you can. There is no reason why you cannot. You simply take the cleaver and bring it down on the head of the snake."

"N-no, please, I can't- is there not another way?!" His voice squeaks.

Hexe frowns. "You're being so defiant.... I gave you a solution. I was merciful in supplying you with the means to solve your problem. You call yourself grateful, yet this is what I get in turn.... shame on you, Slyn."

For once he doesn't care. He's made up his mind. He can't cut off a part of himself, he can't do that to himself.... he can't do that to Yume.

"So. Make your choice."

"..... no."

Hexe tilts her head, as if daring to repeat it. She doesn't ask a single thing though, as Slyn stares up at her. He's trembling. He's terrified. He's never said no to her like this.

"I won't do it."

But he can't stop himself. He doesn't want to do this. This is too far. Too much. He can't kill Hebi-kun.

Hebi-kun attempts to crawl away, only to find itself stuck onto Slyn's hand. The two stare at each other, terrified..... Slyn can almost see his reflection in those small, terrified, beady eyes. All his fear, all his weakness, all his will to not commit such a cruel act, summed up in a single, tiny animal.

"I won't behead him Hexe. I'm so sorry, but I refuse. This is too far..... I'm sorry."

There's a heavy, thick silence for what feels like eternity, before Hexe slowly turns her head to the one window in the tower.

"I knew you would betray me one day as well, Slyn."

He starts to speak, before his voice suddenly disappears and he's left with nothing but an exhale. She turns back to him, lips turned into a hateful, bitter frown.

"I thought you were forever, eternally loyal. That is what you said. You would listen to anything I do without question.... I see how it is though. You do anything until it harms YOU too much."

"... n-no, my dear-"

"QUEEN, GODDAMMIT!!!!"

"QUEEN, queen...!!! ... m-my queen, please-" He's almost in tears from the fear.

"This is because of Yume, isn't it. You really have grown to care for her... and now you cannot make a simple sacrifice to torture her once more, when that is PRECISELY what I ask of you to keep everyone in li-i-i-i-ine."

Slyn starts to back away, seeing her glitch. He needs to get out of here.

"Hmph. A shame.... the idea of inflicting such pain had grown on me. It is a fantastic idea... I don't know how I manage to come up with such fantastic ideas. Now we are no longer doing this for your aid.... this is for me-e-e-e-e-e now. Your gain is only a coincidental byproduct."

"Hexe PLEASE-"

"SILENCE!!!!!!!"

All of a sudden, Slyn feels weightless.

No, not weightless..... paralyzed. His eyes dart around rapidly, as he attempts to move his arm....... it doesn't work. He can't move at all.

Hexes veil flows in accordance to an absent breeze, as if she were in a windy valley. Each time the veil flies up, Slyn is once again reminded of her void-black skin and how her doll-like smile is actually full of teeth that could rip him to shreds.

Her hand is out, as if holding a puppet by the strings. Each minor move she makes is a sudden one by Slyn, as his body moves in accordance. His right hand closes around the cleaver handle, holding on so tight its almost painful.

His body walks over to a nearby wooden table as he rapidly tries to escape Hexe's control. Maybe if he tries hard enough, he can break out of it... or if he stops resisting, maybe she'll get bored.

His left hand lays flat on the table, his other fingers deviating from Hebi-kun. The little snake tilts its head up, looking Slyn in the eyes. It's like seeing his inner self crying, begging him to not do this. He'll behave next time. Don't kill him.

"Remember Slyn," Hexe's voice suddenly rasps. "You are killing the snake, not yourself. Be grateful this is all I am making you do. Surely this will put you back into place."

Slyn feels his right arm raise the cleaver, high above his head. His eyes are wide in horror, as a few tears finally race down his cheeks and get caught on cuts and stubble, stinging the lacerations.

He's never wanted someone to stop Hexe so badly.

He's never regretted visiting Hexe this much.

He's never been so sorry for everything before.

I'm so sorry Yume, he thinks. This wasn't supposed to happen. He failed her. He failed himself. It's over.

The cleaver is suddenly brought down.

Slyn's agonized scream rings out through the castle, followed by Hexe's cackle.

[lazycats-stuff]

Morpheus x male!reader

Summary: Morpheus and (Y/N) spend a day together. Fluff is bound to happen.

Warnings: None. Just the fluffiest fluff that fluffed. After the week I had, I need it.

And thank you for the 71 followers! Thank you for reading my mediocre writing and bad plots!

The day was started on a Saturday. The two lovers were just laying facing each other underneath the covers. No matter how many times they are together, Morpheus was always in the awe of (Y/N)'s beauty. Even now, he was gently caressing (Y/N)'s face who was still asleep, wrapped in blankets like a burrito.

Morpheus smiled at (Y/N)'s smile. He made sure to give his lover a beautiful dream. Right now, (Y/N) was in the middle of a meadow, surrounded by beautiful flowers, while the sun was shining and warming him up.

(Y/N) shifted and moved closer to Morpheus, leaning into the touch. Morpheus didn't stop with his caress. They spend time when (Y/N) is asleep and when (Y/N) goes to the Dreaming. Morpheus still remembers the look of wonder and curiosity.

He was in love with Mathew the raven and Lucien loved (Y/N). She has never seen Morpheus so happy with someone and she has been working under him for years.

" Morpheus... " (Y/N) slurred, opening his eyes.

" Yes my love? "

" You are staring at me. Again. "

Morpheus chuckled and wrapped his arms around (Y/N), bringing him closer. " How can I not, my love? "

(Y/N) smiled tiredly and shook his head, nuzzling it into the crook of Morpheus's neck, seeking additional warmth.

" My love? "

(Y/N) hummed into Morpheus's neck and Morpheus forced himself not to shiver.

" I know that it's winter and that it's cold, but it's sunny and I was wondering if you wanted to go out. I could take you out for a cup of hot chocolate or we could go ice skating... "

" You mean, I would ice skate, while you would watch from the side cheering me on? " (Y/N) asked teasingly and Morpheus squeezed him tighter in response. (Y/N) giggled as he tried to squirm away.

" Or how about we go sledding? " (Y/N) asked as he turned on his side, laying his head on Morpheus's chest. Morpheus fixed the blanket to make sure that (Y/N) was warm. (Y/N) was always cold and that made Morpheus worried for the first time and he is still worried, so in order to not be worried, Morpheus made sure that (Y/N) was always warm and that he had some warm clothes on hand.

" Well, then you would need to be dressed warmly. I am not letting you out if you don't dress appropriately. "

" Morpheus, I won't die from cold. I am used to being cold all the time. "

" Well, you shouldn't. " Morpheus looked down at (Y/N) and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead.

" Humans are a bit more resilient then you think Morpheus. "

Morpheus didn't say anything and simply rested his head on (Y/N)'s.

" I would like to go sledding later and then maybe go out for something warm to drink. "

" The moment we get some will to get out of bed, we are going to do just that. Do you even have a sled? "

" I do. I think that it's somewhere in the basement. We just have to rummage through. Okay, I need you to let me go now. I need to pee. "

" I will go make you some coffee in return. "

" I bought some tea for you. It should be somewhere near the coffee. "

" You mean, somewhere in a midst of chaos? " Morpheus asked, teasing his lover for being a bit messy.

(Y/N) let out a sarcastic laugh as he went to the bathroom. Morpheus chuckled and threw the covers off of himself. Time to get the day started.

After Morpheus made sure that (Y/N) was warm and had a hat, gloves, a scarf and boots he took the sled and off they went. There was a park near the building where (Y/N) lives, with a big hill for them to sled on. The park was lively with people, a lot of families also wanted to take their kids to have some fun. Morpheus is not the type for this type of activity, but he knew how much (Y/N) loves the winter, despite being cold.

Apparently, it was an excuse to stay inside for (Y/N). But if it's snowing and there is a chance to go sledding, (Y/N) was going to do it.

" Come on Morpheus! Lets go! " (Y/N) pulled him with him as they climbed the hill. Apparently, Morpheus was going too slow for (Y/N)'s standards. Once they got to the top, Morpheus prepared the sled.

" I am going to the front Morpheus. You are going to sit behind me. "

Morpheus nodded and settled behind (Y/N).

" Ready? " (Y/N) asked.

" Yes. "

And off they went. Morpheus wouldn't admit this ever, but the speed and the feeling of going down the hill was an amazing feeling. If only his siblings saw him. As they stopped Morpheus smiled and gave (Y/N) a quick hug.

" Did you like it Morpheus? "

" I did. More than I thought you would. "

" I knew it. "

Morpheus squeezed (Y/N) for a moment.

" Come on lets go again! "

And Morpheus complied. Whatever (Y/N) wanted, he would do it.

The night has fallen and most of the people has left. But not (Y/N) and Morpheus. (Y/N) wasn't done yet.

" Do you know what a snow angel is? " (Y/N) asked Morpheus.

" No, what is it? "

" Just watch. So you lay down, " (Y/N) said laying down in the snow.

" And you do what? "

" You do this. " (Y/N) moved his arms and legs until he felt satisfied. Then he carefully stood up with the help of Morpheus.

" See? "

Morpheus took a look at the dent left by his lover. It did resemble an angel.

" Yes, I see it my love. "

" Now you try it. "

Morpheus pondered for a moment, but sighed. If only his enemies would see him. He laid down next to (Y/N)'s snow angel and repeated the motion just like (Y/N) showed him. (Y/N) smiled at Morpheus who looked adorable. (Y/N) helped him up and they looked at their snow angels. It looked like they were holding hands. Morpheus wrapped his arms around (Y/N)'s waist and laid his head on (Y/N)'s shoulder.

" They look like they are holding hands. " (Y/N) said.

" They do. Do you want to go home? " Morpheus asked, giving (Y/N) a peck on the cheek.

" I do, I am getting kind of cold. Will you make me something warm? "

" I will. Hot chocolate? "

" Of course. "

And never let it be said that Morpheus wasn't a good lover. And that is why he is making a warm chocolate for his love. And (Y/N) was wrapped in a blanket on the couch. Morpheus is still worrying over nothing. But it felt nice to know he would be kept warm.

" Here you go love. Are you warm? "

" I am, come on, sit down next to me. Lets watch a movie. But not something relating to Christmas. Nope. " (Y/N) answered taking a warm mug.

" Is it to early? "

" No. I just had enough of Christmas. "

" Christmas is a little over 2 weeks away. "

(Y/N) sighed and snuggled into Morpheus, making sure not to spill his beverage.

" Did you have fun? " Morpheus asked.

" I did. We should do this more often. "

" But only if it's a nice day. " Morpheus countered.

(Y/N) chuckled and murmured a little sure and took another sip. He really loved these days with Morpheus, these lazy days were they could simply be together, just enjoying each other's company.

[fizzyxcustard]

Never.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairings: Eleventh Doctor x OC

Warnings: Angst, insecurity, sadness, smut, first person POV

Summary: Sarah has been travelling with the Doctor and has fallen madly in love with the Time Lord. Will their feelings finally get the better of them?

Comments/Notes: I wrote this fic around 2014/15 and it is currently up on my AO3 page for reading, but I thought I would try it here and see how it goes. This is part 1 of 5, in a series called 'Cup of Tea and Jammie Dodgers'.

Currently I am keeping the tag list for this series completely separate from my main Follow Forever tag list, so if you'd like to be added to this tag list for Doctor Who, please let me know.

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

It didn’t matter how many times I tried to convince myself that he could love someone like me, I knew he never would. I was a mere human, nothing special, nothing fantastic. A man like him deserved an exotic woman from a distant planet who could match him mentally with her expertise in time travel and higher than average IQ. I couldn’t deliver on any of that. I was just a mediocre, run of the mill woman from central England.

The Doctor had come into my life quite by accident. He’d been the one to pick me up from a dark place and took me to the stars – literally. Over the time we’d travelled together in the TARDIS, he’d spoke of his previous companions and all of them seemed to have something to offer. But I just couldn’t see at all what had called him to take me to other worlds. Maybe I should have asked him as it was something I’d never brought myself to ask.

The last two or three days I’d tried my best to keep myself to myself while I let this confusion in my head unfold. Each day I’d retire quite early to the library or pool and so far he hadn’t really noticed. He was his usual self: bouncy, child-like, but always had that all too familiar sadness sitting behind his eyes. I’d only seen him cry once, but he’d smiled through the tears, pretending that he was being silly. But, to me, he’d never be silly. He was the most amazing man I’d ever known, and I’m sure everyone else that had met him thought exactly the same. So...why would I be any different?

The TARDIS, so far, had been big enough for me to hide. But not anymore. I was sat beside the pool, listening to my own thoughts, when I heard a gentle calling of my name. And there he was, stood in the doorway. When I first met him he hadn’t been the kind of man I’d have fallen for; he was boyish in his appearance with floppy hair, continuous hand gestures and a mad bowtie. Behind that and he was so much more. He was freedom, hope and a reason to live life expectantly. Since stepping on board the TARDIS, I woke up awaiting the wonder of a new world or the echoes of someone’s forgotten past.

He placed a freshly brewed cup of tea and a packet of Jammie Dodgers on the table beside me. His shoes squeaked on the tiles as he spun on his heel and sat on the edge of the recliner next to me.

“You don’t look dressed for swimming,” he said softly, looking at my attire of jeans and blouse.

“You never know what I might have hiding under here,” I laughed, looking down at my blouse, but as soon as I’d let the words fall off my lips, I realised my stupidity. I’d never been one to talk provocatively, no matter how hard I tried.

The Doctor let his expression gradually turn to a sad smile as he seemingly forgot my comment. Maybe he hadn’t seen the innuendo of it.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked. “I had noticed even though you always tell me I don’t seem to notice anything.”

I sighed and shifted awkwardly in my seat. I wanted to tell him so badly how I felt. Every time I caught sight of him and I felt the butterflies set up residence in my stomach. I’d always been so guarded when it came to men and allowing myself to fall for them. There were still old scars inside me which hadn’t quite healed over completely. One of these scars was due to an old fiancée who had fallen out of love with me. He’d grown distant from me, finding more happiness in the company of others until he broke the relationship off. Maybe he hadn’t been the one so to speak, but he made me feel like I fit in with everyone else. With him and I could tell everyone that someone loved me. I could be like all my old co-workers and ex-school friends who I accidentally bumped into on the street. With the Doctor...oh, it was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Unknowingly, he’d taken me from that need to be ordinary and like everyone else, transforming me into something else. I was different now. I travelled through time and space with a mad man in a blue box. What was normal about that?

How could I just let everything spill out? I suddenly felt hot and flustered. I needed to run.

I got up from my seat quickly, ignoring his protests for me to come back. The tears began to fall down my cheeks and a lump rose in my throat.

Suddenly I felt his hand around my arm and I was turned quickly, although not forcefully.

I looked into his eyes, those deep set eyes that had become so beautiful to me. Gradually I backed up against the wall, but he stepped forward, keeping the distance between us minimal.

My heart thundered in my chest and I looked down, unable to keep eye contact. “You’re playing with me,” I said sternly. “Stop it!”

“Somehow I believe you’re the better one at teasing,” he replied. His eyes had grown darker with something I couldn’t, in that moment, admit to seeing there. I just couldn’t admit it to myself that he might possibly feel something for me.

Then he raised his hand and cupped my cheek, his thumb gently rubbing away the one tear that had clung there. “My dearest Sarah,” he whispered. “You just don’t see it. None of it. You think beauty lies in the constellations, nebulas and galaxies. But I see all of that when I look in your eyes.”

“You chose me to travel with you, but why? Everyone else that you’ve had as a companion has had more about them...”

“Shhhh,” he said, growing agitated. “There’s a reason for each one of you passing through those doors. The TARDIS knows who I need, and she chose you for me, Sarah.”

How could he speak to me like this when he was married to River Song? Did Time Lords have a twisted idea of marriage and then sneak off with concubines? He was confusing me, and I think he sensed that.

“Doctor, you’re married to River. Why do you think I’ve kept away from you?” I asked, moving aside and out of the door. “How can I stand in front of the man I love day after day and know nothing can ever come of it? I age and die, you regenerate. It’s as though life enjoys playing sick games with you.”

I dashed down the corridor, trying to find my way back towards my room, but each and every time I attempted to get away, I kept coming back to the entrance to the pool. The Doctor stood there with his arms crossed.

“You know how the TARDIS works, Sarah. Don’t keep running away. You need to face up to problems in your life rather than keep running,” he told me.

“Oh, you’re a fine one to say that to me seeing as you took me from home!” I shouted. “You run from your past every day, Doctor. And you stand there preaching to me about it.”

I could see the frustration growing on his face and with no other words spoken he approached me quickly, and kissed me.

I tried to pull away but he had his hands on my cheeks, keeping me against him. As his lips moved, I knew I couldn’t keep the running routine up. He weakened me and I stood there completely defenceless, responding to his kiss. My arms wound around his waist and I groaned beneath our locked lips.

Gradually we parted, our breaths heightened.

He smiled at me and then pressed his forehead against mine. “Never think you’re unimportant. Never!”

*

The Doctor excused himself from my company a short time later, promising to come and see me once he’d taken care of some calculations and such in the main console room.

I took a quick swim and then had a shower, washing all of the chlorine out of my hair. But all the way through I couldn’t take my mind off the Doctor. Smiles kept coming out of nowhere and I must have looked like a lunatic to anyone watching. However, I knew I needed to learn of his intentions. Where would any kind of relationship go from here? Or would it be nigh on impossible. For today I needed to forget it all and just enjoy the moment. Living in the moment for the sheer fun of it was something I’d never been able to do. My mind had always been locked on the future, stressing about the what ifs and maybes of life.

After the shower, I returned to my room only to find that the single bed which was against the wall had now turned into a double, centred amongst the simple furnishings.

What on earth was the TARDIS doing? I’d been told countless times how she needed to be sure of a person and only allowed those on board who were important and integral to the Doctor’s travels. What was the reason behind my presence?

I stepped further into the room and slipped a hand down onto the crisp, white bed sheets. A tingle shot up my back making me shiver. The Doctor... and me...in this bed.

The door shut behind me and as I turned I saw him. His tweed jacket was missing and his shirt sleeves were rolled up.

“Been busy?” I asked.

“Not as busy as I’d like to be,” he replied. “I think you’ll make sure I have my work cut out for me.”

One thing I knew was for certain: if I made love to him here, tonight, things would never be the same for me. I couldn’t let this be a one night stand. My heart was his, completely. But was his heart mine?

“Doctor,” I whispered. “I can’t.”

He smiled at me. “I know you enough by now to know why. Truth is, I know I’m married to River, but my heart...or hearts,” he began. He stopped and chuckled. “My hearts aren’t there. I care for River but not in the same way I care for you. In my last regeneration, I felt this way for someone else.”

“Rose?” I asked. I knew it was her. Sometimes the way he spoke about her made everything so clear. She’d been his first love. He’d speak about other companions from his last regeneration like Martha and Donna, but the regret and sadness wasn’t present in his voice like when he mentioned Rose. His previous companions from this regeneration, Amy and her husband, Rory, had been his best friends, sharing in so many of his trials and triumphs. Where I fit in, I didn’t quite know.

“But...I’m different, Sarah. In this form I have my memories, but the feelings disappear...some of them.”

“You said that you left a clone of yourself with Rose so she’d never be without you. How am I supposed to walk away from all of this without you? And I mean you as you are now.”

“Isn’t it better to taste love once even if it’s not meant to last, than never taste it at all?” he asked me.

All reason and control left me and I leaned up to kiss him.

My hands wound up in his hair as his drifted down me, causing goose bumps to rise on my skin. I couldn’t help but let out a groan, momentarily feeling embarrassment, but that soon dissipated as I found myself being disrobed.

His lips inspected me carefully, inch by inch as we made sure no more clothing could get in the way. And shortly after, we lay amongst the fresh covers. He was leaning over me, kissing my neck passionately. I’d never seen him so primal and unrestricted.

I couldn’t help but arch my back as his lips travelled down my body, until he came to my inner thigh and it was then that I called out into the air.

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” I said, trying to get the words out coherently between the feelings which were bombarding me.

He never spoke but instead began kissing back upward, seemingly not missing an inch. And as his face came in front of mine, I took his lips back against mine but felt him enter me at the same time in one swift movement. On instinct and in shock I groaned under the kiss, and then he reciprocated.

We began to thrust against one another, matching one another’s movements and as we did, he took my hands in his. I could feel the ascension to my orgasm beginning and it became so quick the harder we pulsed into one another, until finally, I felt that last turbulent wave hit me. Whilst the orgasm pulsed through me, the Doctor groaned against my neck, signalling his release.

Breathlessly, he withdrew and lay beside me.

We let our breaths come back to normal before the Doctor reached over and began tickling me. Instantly I laughed, pulling away, but he came almost on top of me, attacking me with his hands. My insides hurt as I laughed over and over, until I found a way to get at him.

I lunged forwards, still giggling and began tickling him back in retaliation. His laughter filled the room until we settled down to sleep.

*

I woke to find that the space next to me had become vacant and the Doctor’s clothes had disappeared. Sighing, I got up, re-dressed and decided to take a walk down to the console room. Maybe he was in there, hovering over leavers and gauges...as per usual.

This time the TARDIS allowed me to walk smoothly into the console room, where I found him. I stayed by the door, watching him grinning like a happy child and hopping around the system, chattering away. Now that I’d experienced what it was like to not only travel with the Doctor, but allow him in, I knew I’d never be the same again.

***

Doctor Who tag list: @asgardianhobbit98 @bookworm-with-coffee

[showtoonzfan]

(SPOILERS FOR AGGRETSUKO SEASON 5, and rant!)

Y’all Aggretsuko season 5 was NOT my cup of tea, I dare even say it’s not good. It’s not as bad as season 4 was in my opinion, but it’s still mediocre at best. For starters it mainly has to do with how Retsuko and Haida are canonically a couple, and if you’ve read my post here, you’ll know how I feel about them. Since their relationship is…sort of the focal point of this season, it bothered me immensely because the relationship is just…..empty, it FEELS empty and unfinished because not only did the show drag it out and force Retsuko to suddenly WANT a relationship with Haida in season 4, but because the writers couldn’t even show them declaring their relationship ON screen. Season 4 had Retsuko yearning over Haida despite it legit not being in character or making any sense from what we’ve previously seen, and then after his villain arc and the season ended, season 5 opens with them as a couple already, and none of it felt natural to me. My point still stands, they shouldn’t have gotten together.

But that’s kinda just the tip of the iceberg with this season. The only way I can describe S5 is in two words, and that’s that it’s random and underwhelming. It did NOT feel like the proper sendoff to this show, and even the ending felt rushed despite the last episode being around 30 minutes. This season didn’t feel like a “last season”, it felt like an idea for…..legit ANY other season other than the very last one. Like…the first half is about Haida addicted to gaming and trying to find a job and Internet cafe’s, which wasn’t that bad I guess but the whole miscommunication plot between Haida and Retsuko drove me crazy, and the first arc for Haida feels so disjointed from what he’s going through in the second half that it bothers me. Oh yeah, and the second half of the season caught me off guard because it’s about fucking politics. Maybe it’s just me but I did NOT enjoy watching all the political shit, like I said this doesn’t feel like a sendoff, this feels more like an idea for any season that wasn’t the last one.

The whole plot with BOTH Retsuko and Haida’s families were so underwhelming to me. For starters we finally get to meet Retsuko’s father and he barley contributes or does ANYTHING. He doesn’t even have that many lines, you might as well call him a background character. They introduce the idea that her father doesn’t approve of Haida since he cut out him in the family photo, but that scene legit goes NOWHERE. We never see that be brought up again, I was expecting an upcoming conversation between either Retsuko and her father, or Haida and her father, but her father only gets like…one line later in the season and then we never see him again, like..you’d think after finally meeting her father and showing that he wasn’t fond of his daughter’s boyfriend, it would play a big part but it didn’t. Then you have Haida’s family, his mother is nice but the focus is on his father and brother, which the show could have done more with honesty, especially his brother, who is nothing but the stern typical anime glasses man who works under their father that is an aging representative of the house. He’s determined to win the election but just turns good after he’s showed off by Retsuko and it felt out of nowhere and forced, same for his father who was just someone who cared more about the election and at the last minute just….laughs along with Haida after he gets showed off and then….we never see him again. Both these parent plots were just not fleshed out enough and it would have been better if politics wasn’t the main damn focus.

The new characters were….fine I guess? Like I said Haida’s brother and father were underdeveloped and I just didn’t feel much watching them, there’s Shikabane, the woman who Haida crashes with at the Internet cafe. I will admit, despite what I said, the first half of the season is more tolerable. I actually like how they’re tackling the concept of unemployment and people who either waste away themselves with gaming or social media, or people who HAVE jobs but aren’t happy or at the top of their game. However, Shikabane didn’t really do much for me either, she’s this socially drained character who sort of cuts ties with the world around her, and in the end it’s sort of left to the viewer wether she’s going to get back on her feet in the future or not, which was sweet I’ll admit, but other than that she didn’t really leave that big of an impact to me since this season is so damn jumbled. Then there’s that crazy angry politician man that legit forces Retsuko to do this politic job in the first place, and like…I legit don’t care I hate this political second half of the season so much. There were also small elements I didn’t like, like how the show INSISTS that Ton pick Retsuko off her feet every single time as if she can’t do it ONCE on her own, or how Fenneko is just a character that’s there and never gets focus or does anything really. The ending of Washimi and Gori I actually liked, seeing them finally reveal what drew them to Retsuko in the first place was nice, but man I did not like them in the first half, they felt out of character suggesting that Haida was cheating on her, like I said that whole misunderstanding plot drove me nuts.

And as I said, the ending felt so rushed, I remember going “That’s it?” When the credits rolled. We never even get to see all of the characters together for one final shot, or see how each character is doing with their lives moving forward. This entire show was praised for its outlook on adulthood and struggles that come with it as well as the lessons, and for the show to end in this half assed way, a show that I really liked, does kinda suck. I hate to say it but I feel like season 3 is where this show started to fall off honestly, and despite how much I love this show, I DID have issues with it as a whole. There’s the whole “we focus too much on Haida and want to drag him out as well as his relationship with Retsuko to the point where it’s fucking insufferable”- problem, then there’s how Retsuko continues to be a doormat for the most part despite previous seasons establishing that she’s done doing that and has leaned her lesson. Like…she’ll say that but then get forced into doing something she clearly does NOT want to do and I feel like her character keeps going back and fourth with that. The plot wants to push her into whatever lesson or deep symbolism they feel like spewing, but THIS time it just doesn’t feel natural like it did before. Characters will TELL Retsuko what she wants and at some point you get sick of it. You also got Ton, a character who kept flip flopping. Despite what I said about him here, the show legit felt like it couldn’t decide wether they wanted him to be a sexist asshole, or just a flawed old man who’s stuck in the times but has a good heart. I could honestly say a little more about the issues I have with the show as a whole, but the point still stands that the last season didn’t hit as hard as I had hoped.

Aggretsuko still and always will have a special place in my heart. I really enjoy the series as a whole and I think it’s a really good example of some of the best adult animation I’ve seen. The life lessons of adulthood, finding a job, falling in love, getting married, being afraid of going out into the world, ect were mostly handled well in the show, the characters (again for the most part) are likable and endearing, and even though this show didn’t go out with a bang and slipped down its slope heavily, I don’t hate it, and still will love and admire it, it’s the same with Star Vs. The Forces Of Evil, where it started out SO good but then ended poorly, but overall it’s a show I’ll always like. With that said these are all my opinions, I wanted to make a post on this since this was one of my favorite shows, so since it was ending I thought I’d talk about it. Thank you for reading!

[a-sparrows-melody]

Five Survive - Holly Jackson

DISCLAIMER: These are my opinions. I do not mean harm - neither to the creator of this wonderful book, nor to the fandom and any of its followers. If you do not agree with my opinion, please do not engage merely to fight with me (I don't like it).

I could see myself enjoying it if I was younger - but I'm not, and I personally don't appreciate Jackson's YA style. In my opinion, it was pretty average and not Jackson's best work. Here’s what I thought of it:

The characters were well-written, but underwhelming. One thing I loved about them were how well-rounded they were. None of them were inherently good or bad, and that provided a necessary connect.

Red was a mediocre main character. Jackson wrote her in an incredible way, where the reader felt so close yet distant to her (awe-inspiring writing style. Loved it). The teenage angst and depression were spot-on, and I felt I could relate to her a lot. But she was dull, and somewhat irritating. In the books, Red's trauma surrounding her mother was a huge give-away of the one with the secret. Red's internal monologue turned out to be very repetitive, as if Jackson was copy-pasting everything. And I don't really think that Red would be thinking to that extent about her mother's death - it felt like a new wound than something done five years ago.

The rest of the characters (Reyna, Simon, Maddy) were kind of ignored. I kept feeling as if they had no emotions and were just plot conveniences (more like inconveniences). They were fine but there was nothing else about them. I realized who was going to die from the beginning.

The characters felt very organized. Every emotional meltdown, every outburst was seen coming from the beginning. Personally, this was a let-down because I'm used to teenage characters being unpredictable and stupid.

The plot, too, was a tad unhinged, and not in a good way. Jackson did an absolutely phenomenal thing by stretching events of eight hours into a novel of four hundred pages, all while keeping the readers involved the whole thing. Truly awe-inspiring. Most of the plot twists felt very unplanned, as if Jackson surprised herself by writing it - but I get it, I do that a lot in my writing. In some places, the stakes were so high that they tipped the scale and weren't exciting anymore.

The title was a bit of a distraction. The book wasn't even based on Oliver's inconsequential death and the blurb and title together gave away the main tension of the movie. Halfway through and I already detected who was going to die.

One thing I truly loved was the poetic irony in the last leg of the book. Red survives a deadly sniper and ends up getting shot by a bumbling, assuming policeman. I absolutely loved Maddy and Red's friendship, as well as Arthur and Red's weird lying dynamic.

To conclude, it was wonderful book but not really my cup of tea. Holly Jackson does it well.

-X-

Maybe I will continue book reviews! Love you all <3 and thank you for interacting!

[tryan-a-bex]

Sometimes when you fall, you fly

Read it on ao3. For @kittynannygaming and @lucienne-thee-librarian

Lucienne laid down her pen. There was something not right in the library, but darned if she could put her finger on it. She rose from her desk and commenced one of her usual patrols. As she walked her normal pattern, she glanced down each aisle. So far, all was as it should be.

“Hhiiiiiic!” The sudden loud hiccup as she rounded the final corner meant there was no way she could miss Gault, huddled at the end of the row, her face in her hands.

“Gault! Whatever is the matter?!” Lucienne exclaimed as she rushed worriedly toward the former Nightmare.

“Oh, Lucienne! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to bother you!” Gault blurted on another sob.

“It’s no bother at all!” Lucienne reassured her. “You do know I’m here to help, right? It’s part of my job, as librarian.” She gently drew the distraught dream up from where she huddled, handing her a handkerchief from her pocket.

Gault wiped her tear stained face. “I’m just so embarrassed about all this! I’m one of my lord’s most experienced creations! I’m a Major Arcana, for goodness’ sake! Yet here I am, crying in the library because I have a problem and I can’t figure out how to solve it!”

“No! Don’t be embarrassed!” Lucienne looked at her tenderly over her reading glasses. “You are strong and beautiful and important, but don’t forget, you’ve only been a dream for a very short time. It’s okay to ask for some help during the adjustment period! In fact, it is always okay to ask for help, and I will always be here for you to turn to.”

Gault blushed a little at the compliment and followed willingly as Lucienne led her back to her desk. Lucienne grabbed a fresh cup from the tea service near the window, filled it, and handed it to Gault as she settled into Lucienne’s visitor’s chair.

“Okay.” Lucienne sipped from her own tea cup, left by her papers on the desk. It was a good thing she enjoyed cold tea. “Tell me everything.”

Gault sniffed once more and took a sip of honeyed tea. 

“Oh, Lucienne! You’ve made it so sweet!”

“Is it too sweet? You’re a dream now, dear, you’re allowed some sweetness in your life!”

“I guess…I guess I like it like this, then.” Gault sipped again, then put her cup down to begin her story.

“Dreams, as you know, … dreams and nightmares are intended to help people change their narrative. We show them their fears and wants so they can face them and become truer to themselves.” She paused for a sip of tea as Lucienne nodded along. “I had been a nightmare for so long. I was used to changing my shape and scaring people from the status quo into something new. Now I find myself having to entice them instead. It’s… very different! I’ve had some good successes, and some mediocre ones, but this. This one has just been a failure!” She rubbed her face with her hands as Lucienne waited patiently for her to continue. ”I thought perhaps I could find help in the library, a clue as to how to go about it, in the record of another similar dreamer. But there are just so many books! And I’m not familiar with the stories of good dreams at all!”

“Well, you have found help in the library,” Lucienne told her warmly, laying her hand over Gault’s on the desk. “Can you tell me a bit more about the dreamer, so I know where to start looking?”

Gault sighed and her shoulders relaxed a bit. She turned her hand and took hold of Lucienne’s properly, as if for courage. 

“This dreamer, you see, is non-binary. They’ve been using a gender neutral online name forever, but they are hesitant to see the internal truth that expresses about them. They know ‘the kids’ are picking all kinds of genders these days, and they’re happy for them! But they haven’t realized yet that they are also allowed to ‘choose’ their gender—they feel stuck with what they were ‘born with.’” Gault sighed again and took another sip of tea. “I thought I’d shape-change into the form they desire to be, and they would see it and realize it was accessible to them as well! But instead, they interpreted their desire for that form as attraction, and Lucienne, they kissed me!”

“How did you feel about that, Gault?” Lucienne asked compassionately.

“It took me by surprise! I wasn’t expecting it! I never intended… I’m not that kind of dream!” Gault finished helplessly.

“It’s okay.” Lucienne rubbed the back of Gault’s hand with her thumb, and Gault’s grip on her tightened. “I know just where to look. First, how to tone dreams so dreamers don’t get the wrong idea. Then, how to help dreamers tell the difference between wanting someone, and wanting to be someone—it’s a far more common problem than you’d expect! Finally, we can look in the gender change section and see if there are any other good tips for shape-changers working on that type of transformation.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! You are such a good friend!” Gault exclaimed, then looked down at the desk, as if she was worried she’d been too bold by claiming Lucienne’s friendship.

“Of course we are friends, my dear!” Lucienne responded, standing and leading Gault by the hand, up and toward the stacks. “Though this is the same help I would give anyone in your position, including the honey tea.” She looked down at their still joined hands and commented offhandedly, “though not the hand-holding. That’s usually rather more metaphorical.”

Gault beamed at her through the tear stains on her cheeks and boldly asked, “Maybe you’d like to go for a picnic with me, after we are finished here?”

“I would love that!”

“Boss! Hey boss! You won’t believe what I just saw!”

“Matthew.” Dream looked up from his sculpting, wondering what would have prompted his raven to interrupt him at his work. “What have you seen?”

“It was Gault, with Lucienne! They were flying! Over Fiddler’s Green! I mean, Gault was flying and she had her arms all wrapped around Lucienne, it was weird! And they both looked ecstatic! What is going on?”

“Ah,” said their Master. “I expect Lucienne finally told Gault how much she misses flying.”

“But what if they…. They can’t…. Can they?” Matthew didn’t quite know what he was asking, but he was sure the whole Dreaming would be turned inside out if Lucienne started dating someone. She was the steady, stable, responsible one! They couldn’t be having her having romantic dramatics!

Dream smiled slightly at his flustered raven. “Don’t worry, Matthew. I will take care of it.”

“Lucienne!” Lucienne looked up, only slightly startled by the sudden intrusion of her Master’s voice into her work.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Matthew told me he saw you and Gault flying over Fiddler’s Green this afternoon.”

Lucienne blushed but continued to look him in the eye. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Good. I approve. I made you these.” He handed her a little black scrap which, when she took it in her hands, turned out to be a pair of raven wings about the size of her palms.

“You can…” he gestured at her back. Wonderingly, she reached the wings over her shoulder, and gasped as they attached to her shoulder blades and grew to full size. 

“Oh, my Lord! These are wonderful!” she exclaimed.

“Yes. Well. I thought you might like to fly with Gault more often. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“Oh, not at all! So, you don’t mind, if Gault and  I…?”

“I trust it will not interfere with your duties.”

“Of course not!” (Lucienne was, after all, an adult, who could carry on a relationship without it interfering with her duties and the weather, unlike some anthropomorphized concepts standing in front of her.)

“Good.”

After that, the residents of the Dreaming became accustomed to the sight of Lucienne with her head in Gault’s lap, under the tree in Fiddler’s Green.

Note: The title quote is by Neil Gaiman, from The Sandman vol 6, Fables and Reflections. 

In my head this is a Queer Platonic Relationship with cuddling and hand-holding. They are zucchinis because I love them.

Next

[we-dragons]

Chapter 20

The quietness of the world still scared me. All the mediocre patrols, all the calm nights. They were too peaceful given my circumstances. As my birthday closed the fear of this nothing only terrified me more. Nightmare, despite a telepathic and emotional connection, didn't seem to worry the same way. Even when I sent him out to do his own patrol in the veil. Nothing. Nothing was not a normal behavior of the Crow, nothing was not natural. Something tore into my core. A sort of despair I haven't felt since the trial of my parent's murder, my aunt not caught and danger still relevant. When I'm at school l Look over my shoulder so much I cause concern. I falter over my steps, constantly on guard. I know something isn't right. After all. The fate of the crows rests in the hands of my survival. And there is nowhere left to run. Not for me.

"What are you thinking so hard about dear?" Martha's voice pulls out of my head I turn to her almost shocked. "You've done nothing but polish silverware since that boy left with his brother. In fact, you've been doing it so much when your friends are gone. I'm sure they've begun emitting their own light." She puts a hand on my shoulder and leads my hands down, putting the silverware and polishing supplies away. "I think you should take a small break. You need it." I'm dragged to one of the tables set to the side for workers.

"Mrs. Martha, It's nothing really! I just felt they needed a good clean is all." Martha pushes me in a seat, and starts pouring one of the chamomile teas we have, and puts it in front of me. I attempt to get up and she shoots me a glare.

"You get up from that seat and I'll have Glen cancel your contract with us young lady." Sighing I sit back down and take a sip of the tea.

"I'm sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind recently."

"You're thinking about home again, right?"

"Something like that, It's just..." Pausing I turn the tea cup in my hands feeling the warmth heat my fingers. "So many nice things have been happening lately. I can't help but feel like I'm only in the eye of the storm."

"Do you really think that's where you are? The eye? Have you not left the storm, my dear?" A sadness hits her voice.

"No, what scares me more is that if this isn't the eye, then it's the calm before something worse."

She nods placing a hand on my wrist.

"And I'm sure not hearing about your family only makes that feeling fester. After all, you've been running for a long time haven't you?"

My eyes stare down at the ripples forming at the movements of the shop. I look back at all the people who had tried to help me in the past. Sheltered me. Fought. It weighs on me. I haven't felt so heavy in a long time. grip the cup tightly but not enough to break it.

"Yeah, nowhere is safe when a dangerous psychopath is after you. The government can only do so much I suppose."

"Yes, too bad the Faerie couldn't help you quite yet. 17 is a tight number you know! especially when you started lying about your birthday. Very clever of you to use your power to alter the knowledge of your birthday to the day you leave. But that magic was ours to spell with you can't influence us."

My blood freezes, and shakily I look at the old woman. The world seems to tear in front of me again. The slight tug I had been ignoring about these people aches urgently. I feel magic, old magic. Something I hadn't felt since the time I met with the Fay court. My body immediately adjusts not fighting the thought anymore. The old woman didn't look so kind her features became sharp, and the sense of calm I felt around her was replaced with warning. She looked younger despite her hair remaining white. I feel sick.

Her hand still remains soft around my wrist, her face still smiling.

"Your mother was a dear friend of mine. She spoke of you often. I was supposed to take care of you in the land of the Fay but your stunt in court, though understandable, made that difficult. I did Try to collect your brother, but your uncle and your pesky group made that too difficult. Your friends and family hid them well. Im really sorry that I couldn't be there to save you from the crow. I can't physically enter their relm. However me and Glen have been trying desperatly to make sure they don't break that barriar around this particular planet. It was so hard to get the Council to accept our agreement with your mother. But how could they say no to a binding deal."

I don't look but I feel the world freeze around me. Only one figure moves It was Glen, but not Glen. He pulls up a seat next to his wive. I stare at the hand that is too slender and elegant for a human. When he speaks he sounds so different and odd.

"All we had to do for them was capture your aunt and put her in the Plains. If she was only hard to find. All itterations of her were wicked and foul. She was so changed, she was half way to becoming a Crow herself. They way her flesh was torn-"

"My dear, she doesn't need to know the details."

I feel like static fills my brain, my body trembles and shakes when I finally look up the creatures both smile at me. I've never been able to accurately read the Fairy. My powers want so bad to learn about what makes them like that. Powerful and ethereal. I have to pull myself back fast.

"Why?"

They both increase their smile, it seems impossible. But they smile so widely I feel like their faces would break, but it looks like they could smile more.

"We loved your mother, she married our son after all."

"My father's parents were people from the Mediterranean! I met them, Don't-"

Their faces reform again taking on the those of my father's parents. I feel my breath catch in my mouth. I cant help but heave. Fairies can't completely match a person's appearance so I know it's them. My grandmother's mouth moves but all I can hear is the sound of the fairy's voice.

"With your...Birthday...coming soon. We think it's finally time to actually take you with us to Avalon.  was such a rebellious child. To choose a human wife and to have mortal children when he could have raised you and your brother with us. Preparing the wild hunt, and teaching you the mischief of our blood in the trees!"

"What-who are you?"

"Who else would I be my dear? I am your grandmother Mab, Queen of the Winter Court. Your father was crowned prince of the fall court. And this is your grandfather, Oberon. Dashing is he not?"

Glen, no, Oberon takes his hands in mine and kneels down below me.

"Your to come with us to live your life in our lands You will take your father's place and become the Crowned princess of the Fay Wilds. You'll not only rule the court of autumn, you'll be the heir to all the courts. Guaranteed safety within our realm. Forever."

"NO!"

I push myself away and off the chair. I run to my apartment slamming every sigil I ever learned on the door to my home.

"Nightmare! Nightmare! If you can hear me stay in whatever ever in between you in!"

I lock all my windows and doors and lock myself in my closet. The whole place smells like magic, it overwhelms my senses. I feel so sick.

Stay quiet Y/N it will all be over soon, breath slow, so hunters don't find you, and the predators don't hear you. You are safe in this space. You carved wards of all kinds on this door. Nothing that is magic finds you easy. So don't throw up, don't throw up, don't-

The door to the closet swings creaks open, and just before I surge energy around me I recognize the faint scent of cologne. My nerves tingle still unsure if my senses are being lied to.

"Y/N? I've been looking for you, what are you doing in the closet?" I hear him kneel down, and feel a hand cup my face. It didn't feel like that thing's fingers. So I opened my eyes and met the crystal green I had come to memorize. I latch onto him and breathe heavily, magic still permeates the air.

"Take me out of here please!"

"Y/N what's wrong? Did the crow come back?"

"We need to go! I beg you get me out of this place!"

He doesn't say anything but grabs some of my things and takes my hand. He leads me down the fire escape, to his car where I see Nightmare. He purrs as soon as he sees me. I watch the windows for things I wasn't catching before. There were so many eyes I had learned their frequency for shifting and now I can see them almost everywhere. Damian doesn't say anything for the entire ride only glances I can see from the side of my eye. We pull into a concealed entrance to an old clock tower. As soon as the entrance closes behind us I get out of the car. Cutting my hand open, drawing sigils, wards, and runes to any surface I can find.

"What are you doing?! Y/N!" He pulls me back wrapping his arms around my middle. "Calm down! Your safe! Stop mutilating yourself and look at me!" He turns me to face him. "What the matter why are you wiping your blood on the walls?"

"If I tell you, you can never go back to the coffee shop." I grip my fists in his shirt. "At this point, I don't know what's real or a figment of magic. I need you to be cautious of who you meet now. Because what just happened to me changes things. And I'm not actually sure what to believe at the moment."

[merge-conflict]

Find the Word/Manuscript Search Tag

Been tagged twice and alright, if you have to twist my arm and ask me to post more words... :3 <3 <3 <3

Tagged by @fly-amanitaa for night, breeze, jealous, & collide

Tagged by @setaflow for retort, sun, length, & knuckle

Tagging @corpocyborg, @gamerkitten, @luvwitch, @genocidalfetus, @another-corpo-rat (as usual, no pressure) with chrome, whisper, burn, sky

Mild nsfw on "breeze" but it's not terribly explicit.

night

“All you ever want to do is go out drinking and have me be your wingman,” she continued, rummaging through the wrappers in the cup holders. If she was looking for his amphetamines she was going to be disappointed. “Then what– I talk you up to some nice girl and she has a mediocre night. That your idea of a fun surprise?”

“Never had any complaints. But if you wanted you could see for yourself.”

-> when her edges soften, ch. 1

breeze

V pushed her right hand up the inside of his shirt, pulling it up over her elbow while the breeze cooled his sweat. Her voice was half a growl. “Please tell me one of those advantages–“ She kissed his neck sweetly, against the stinging pain. “–is you’re not a one-hit KO.”

“Jesus Christ, V, at least give me a minute.” He said, voice a little hoarse. “First round just ended.” He turned his head before she could put her wet fingers in his mouth. She wiped them off on his throat, instead, and then stepped back, leaving him panting and exposed, leaning his face against the cool brick.

-> when her edges soften, ch. 1

jealous

Panam shifted in her chair, body twisted into an improbable curve that looked extremely uncomfortable. She was focused on V now, the churn of her thoughts visible in her expression. V wondered if she was even going to be hungover in the morning, and was preemptively jealous.

“You never mentioned you were corpo,” she said finally, but without any rancor.

“Would you have worked with me if I had?”

Panam considered this for a moment. “Probably not.”

-> the damn things overlap, ch. 7

collide (colliding)

Saul, who knew Goro spoke English and thus had a pretty good idea of what he might feel compelled to say in another language, frowned deeply. But Terry struggled with the simple shock of someone finding a stranger was foreign twice over, and was trying to understand what that meant.

The alarming crunch of two large objects colliding and the subsequent shriek of metal sliding past metal interrupted this calculation. She swore a blue streak and exploded into motion, moving quickly despite her pronounced limp. Her absence seemed to take all the air with her, and V had it in her to hope distantly no one had hit her car.

-> the damn things overlap, ch. 7

retort

(miss) :)

sun

Goro woke V while the sun was still down, unconscious grip on her tightening as he battled some dream. She didn’t know whether trying to wake him would help or only make it worse, so she waited until a jerk of his arm woke him. He let out one long, slow breath, and she pretended to be asleep as he gently pulled her in closer. Eventually she felt his limbs go slack again, and he fell asleep while her mind composed a little tune that swam in and around to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

<Johnny.> The thought took more effort than it should have. He didn’t answer, but the song stuttered, just a bit. <Johnny?>

-> the damn things overlap, ch. 12 (wip)

length

Still, no matter how early she managed to arrive, Goro was nearly always there before her, looking well rested and without a hair out of place.

This morning was much the same, and V slid into her chair, trying not to stare at his back as he busied himself making his usual cup. Once, he had talked at great length about the virtues of tea, from the plant to the processing to the ritual of consuming it, and so it was only with great difficulty that she endured the sight of him configuring the machine to brew the ugliest, thickest, oiliest brew of coffee it could create only to cut it with an obscene amount of milk and sugar. That he viewed even the finest coffee only as a convenient source of caffeine was endurable, but to watch him produce such a monstrosity in front of her was too much to bear.

-> catch for us the foxes

knuckle (knuckles)

When he was gone, she returned to the mirror, shivering in some strange combination of grief and fury. Her body felt raw, disjointed, unclean. She wanted to break the mirror, but just at the thought of it she could smell the mildew from the motel bathroom, feel the blood on her healed knuckles, trapped in an endless self-cannibalizing loop of bad and worse.

“Too bad you missed that, huh?” She bared her teeth at her own reflection, humiliated at the realization she actually wanted Johnny to answer.

She did not punch the mirror. She did not, but she wanted to. She wanted–

-> the damn things overlap, ch. 4