#the doctor and the museum curator

[delta-pavonis]

Fic Teaser: Parasomnia

(The morning after Special Exhibition, so spoilers there if you haven't read it. This little bit is rated T.)

Dear Dream,

Many would start such a note with “I just couldn't bear to wake you…” but, to be quite honest, I fear it would be too disingenuous given that I did everything short of cracking the smelling salts to wake you before I left. I was worried enough that I checked all your vitals. Upon finding you not dead, nor bradycardic, nor hypotensive, nor hypoxic, nor hypoglycemic, I decided you needed the rest.

Make yourself at home. And I mean that truly. Hell, you know where the toys are kept if you somehow feel the urge. (I, for one, am giving my bollocks and backside a break for at least a few days. No regrets, though.) There is barely any food in the pantry because of my holiday schedule, but there is plenty of coffee and tea. Enjoy anything and everything I have in stock. Or just order takeaway.

I left my car here and took the tube in. Keys are by the front door. You are welcome to drive my car to the hospital or get on a block south and ride in to pick up your car. I told the hospital parking attendant to log it under my name, so no rush getting here, your car is safe.

Rest. Go back to sleep if you want. (Actually, drink a glass of water first. We exerted ourselves rather, ah, thoroughly last night.) Take all the time you need. 

I’ll be back about 6 tomorrow morning. If you're around, we can have breakfast. If not, I hope I’ll see you soon. 

Text me when you are up and moving?

Yours,

Hob

P.S. Last night was fantastic. You are absolutely stunning. xoxo

Dream reads the letter fully three times before putting it down.

“Yours.”

Something in his chest soars.

Mine.

He wants Hob to be his very, very badly. 

Probably in ways Hob very much does not intend. 

Probably. 

Dream drops the note to run his hands over his face and flops back onto the bed. The sheets smell of Hob and he turns to press his cheek into them before he can think better of it.

Oh, yeah, he’s proper fucked. 

One hand wanders down to his abdomen, to above his groin, and for a moment he feels Hob within him again and groans. His other hand lands on the bruising on his shoulder, presses softly, just enough to remind him of Hob's mouth. 

Dream closes his eyes and remembers the taste of Hob, his skin and mouth and sweat and cum. He suddenly misses him, desperately. 

Which is insane. 

They’ve known each other–actually known each other, not the weird parasocial relationship he had with Hob via his TikTok ASMR videos–less than a week. How can Dream possibly miss him?!?

This is just the rush of a new relationship. It will pass. It will pass.

But Dream doesn't want it to pass. 

God, it has been ages since he felt this good. Since he had someone respond to him, to his intensity, in kind, to meet him punch for punch. It is what he thought Corin would be, or Calliope, or, fuck, Nada way back when. He thought they could become this. He and Killala had it for one bright, shining moment, before they burned themselves out.

And yet here Hob is, matching his steps, following his lead in this dance, seemingly without much effort, on the first try. Dream is going to have a whole lot of trouble letting that go, now that he knows it possible. 

Fuck.

Dream grabs his phone from where it was placed on the nightstand next to the letter and looks at the time. 

Which makes him sit up in bed like a shot.

It is almost five in the evening. He has slept for over twelve hours.

[traxanaxanos]

Watching the lower decks Voyager episode and I have to say, as someone who works in museum collections I do get the curator's worry over everything but also why no cotton gloves then? Especially in the scene where he tugs on Harry Kim's uniform hmm? HMM?

Like you CAN handle textiles without gloves but with the importance of the collection AND ESPECIALLY everything Voyager went through I would simply be treating everything with arsenic exposure protocols, (or whatever the future space version of them is). Who fucking knows whats on those uniforms. Wear gloves! Not even cotton ones at that point that's a nitrile situation. Wear a mask. Where's your PPE??

Would this have avoided the macrovirus issue? Probably not. Would it have been proper museum practice. Yes.

[cedar-is-a-nerd]

Due to the fact my friends have been using brainrot slang so often, I have fought back by making references they do not understand. This includes 1. Queer media. 2. Nerdy shows. 3. The interests I have that they just don't know about yet. 4. Old books. So many old books.

Like they do with brainrot terms, I shamelessly mix them together into one confuddled mess of interests until they experience the same confusion I do when they do the same, except I have more terms because I have too many interests. The confusion on my friends face when I respond to something along the lines of "Skibidi Ohio Rizz" with the most insane crossover of fandoms is insane. 10/10 Greatly recommend saying stuff like "Will you be the Nandor to my 23rd Doctor regeneration?" or "Damn you so Karl the seagull" and other's such as "This is my design," "It's giving Patroclus on the battlefield," "Blackbonnet divorce arc for real." "Just like Doll Nadja." "I need someone to be the Octavius to my Jedidiah." "That's very Basil Hallward of you."

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 56

One time when a baby was Cyber-converted, they were given regular Cyber-arms as well as a Cybermat tail. (Novel: Illegal Aliens)

Chewing on jelly babies helps the Doctor think. The Eighth Doctor said that the "tensile strength of a jelly baby offers the perfect resistance." (Audio: World of Damnation)

Speaking of jelly babies, the Eighth Doctor once went missing for days because he was looking for the perfect jelly baby. (Novel: The City of the Dead)

Zoe had the Second Doctor install an orthopaedic bed in her room on the TARDIS. (Novel: The Menagerie)

There is such a phenomenon as temporal tsunamis. (Audio: The Other Side)

TARDIS heartbeats must keep a steady rhythm, so when they are parked, they continue to travel through time at the same speed as their pilot. Otherwise, the TARDIS would be lost to the past (if they were traveling at a slower speed) or disappear into the future (if they were going at a faster speed). (Audio: 1963)

On Gallifrey, marriages mainly serve to strengthen political alliances between the different Great Houses and to maintain the Chapter's power. (Audio: Spirit)

Vassar Dust looks somewhat like snow and is always cold. It also has some telepathic qualities. This dust is a byproduct of time travel. (Novel: Loving the Alien)

Ian once woke up inside a Time Museum as an exhibit. He had been removed from his own time with a time scoop. The curator of the museum - Pendolin - had time scooped Ian with the hope of attracting the Doctor’s attention and making him his prized exhibit, but he did not successfully get the Doctor’s attention. (Audio: The Time Museum)

The Doctor kept a bracelet (that appeared to be made of gold) in a trunk in his TARDIS. After regenerating, the Second Doctor retrieved it, looked at it fondly for a short while, and then returned it. Ben saw that it had odd pictures on it but couldn't make it out. (Novel: The Power of the Daleks)

John Benton, Sarah Jane Smith, and Allison Williams were all involved in the clean-up following the Cyberman invasion from The Tenth Planet. (Novel: The Power of the Daleks)

The Doctor thinks of the entire universe as their foster family after their parents had "decided to opt out of their responsibilities." (Novel: Beltempest)

The First Doctor's left hand was cut off in a sword fight with a Soul Pirate captain. He had to get a new one fashioned for him as it did not grow back. (Short story: A Big Hand for the Doctor)

As revenge for his defeat on the Enlightenment, the Black Guardian altered the established timeline. To defeat them, the Seventh Doctor, Ace, and Benny had to reassemble the Key to Time. The following objects are actually segments of the Key to Time: the First Doctor's TARDIS instruction manual, the Second Doctor's stovepipe hat, one of the swords used when Ace fought the Third Doctor, one of the Fourth Doctor’s jelly babies, a cricket ball used by the Fifth Doctor, and the Sixth Doctor's cat badges. (Comic: Time & Time Again)

The Third Doctor used to visit the zoo frequently. He'd often sit across the tiger, feeling some sort of camaraderie with them. He spent some of his wages upgrading the tiger enclosure, but the tiger's mind had already been broken. They continued walking back and forth as though their enclosure was still small. The Doctor decided to be sure that his mind wouldn't also break in his captivity because one day his TARDIS would be fixed and he couldn't stick in his old habits when that happened. (Audio: Walls of Confinement)

On one such visit to the zoo, the Brigadier had the Doctor babysit his godson. The Doctor didn't keep a close enough eye on the boy, and he ended up in the tiger enclosure. (Audio: Walls of Confinement)

Fitz Kreiner once found an old woman in the TARDIS library. Her name was Emily, and she had been dressed in clothes one might expect a teenager to wear in the 1960s. She was also covered in cobwebs. Fitz brought her to the Eighth Doctor, who recognized her and seemed embarrassed about her presence, but Emily didn't recognize the Doctor. (Novel: Mad Dogs and Englishmen) Though never explicitly clarified, Emily had likely entered the TARDIS as a teenager, got lost, and lived her entire life in the TARDIS. As she didn't recognize the Eighth Doctor, this event would have predated his incarnation. Perhaps she was even one of Susan's classmates.

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[writingquestionsanswered]

do u have any sort of website that can tell me jobs in a small town? trying to write a story set in a small town but i cant come up with any ideas for jobs apart from the essential ones like police or hospital

Jobs in a Small Town

Government: mayor, city manager, city council member, city attorney, city clerk, code enforcement officer, customer service representative, finance director, fire chief/firefighter, paramedic, human resources manager, information technology department, librarian, municipal court clerk/administrator/judicial specialist/court security officer, parks and recreation director, planning and zoning director, police chief/officer or sheriff/deputy, public works director, utilities clerk, wastewater plant operator

Business: business owner/operator or employee (such as a clerk, receptionist, manager, or administrator) at a shop, restaurant, cafe, gas station, mechanic, tow truck, locksmith, landscaper/lawn care, handyman, florist, funeral home, pool cleaner, daycare center, grocery store, feed and pet store, car dealership, clothing boutique, ice cream parlor, liquor store, bar, nightclub, community theater, "big box store" (like Walmart), warehouse store (like Costco), movie theater, mini-golf course

Medical Services: hospital (administration, doctor, surgeon, nurse practitioner, nurse, nurse's aide, respiratory therapist, anesthesiologist, orderly, receptionist, lab worker, security, etc.) Doctor's office or urgent care (administration, doctor, nurse, nurse practitioner, receptionist, etc.) Dentist or orthodontist (administration, dentist/orthodontist, dental assistant, orthodontic assistant, receptionist, etc.) Nursing home/assisted living facility (administration, doctor, nurse, orderly, etc.)

Random: country club employee, dog walker, babysitter/nanny, home nurse, museum director/curator/specialist/employee, town archaeologist (if area is rich in history), industrial jobs (mining, factories/manufacturing, farming/crop production, fishing/fisheries), wedding coordinator, convention center director, attorney, judge, taxi driver, utility repair technician, railway worker, bus driver, school jobs (principal, teacher, teacher's aide, librarian, cafeteria worker, counselor, security officer, custodian), airport jobs (administrative, security, service provider/employee, airline worker, pilot, flight attendant, plane mechanic)

That's all I've got at the moment, but keep an eye on the comments in case others come up with ideas! :)

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[allofmytoxicity]

Could I send a request for Neal Caffrey x reader, reader x ex!Spencer Reid. Where the reader used to date Spencer when in DC but they broke cause he was too focused on work and she moved to New York to manage a company or something and starts dating Neal. But the BAU works with White Collar on a crime and Spencer gets jealous seeing how happy the reader is with Neal

Pretty Slowly

Neal Caffrey x fem!fianceé!reader

past!Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

a/n: I feel like I need to put this before the summary on this one because when I saw this ask come in I was on a walk and listening to Benson Boone (as you do) and Pretty Slowly, his new song, came on and the end really gave me inspiration for this.

Summary: You and Spencer used to date years ago, but now you're in New York and dating Neal, so when the BAU come in on a case, your stuck in the past wondering how you got where you are.

5 years.

5 long damn years.

It had been just over 5 damn years since you had last seen Supervisory Special Agent, Doctor Spencer Reid.

And you thought that when you had left D.C. you would only see Spencer again if you were a suspect in a case, but here he was. Standing right in the way of where you wanted to go.

It wasn't as if he could help it, he was just sitting on the edge of a desk, but because of how tall he is, his legs pushed out far enough that if you tried to rush past them, you would trip and fall if you weren't careful.

Now, the whole reason you were here was to give Neal Caffrey, ex-con and your fiancé, a coffee because he had messaged you, pleading you to bring him something better than Bureau crap.

So, here you were, coffee in hand, deciding whether or not it was worth walking across the bullpen to get to Neal who was sitting in Peter's office, looking over a file, or sending him a message saying that you were here and wait in the lobby. And by your judgement, possibly spilling hot coffee all over you and bumping into the reason you don't live in D.C. anymore was not worth it.

That was though, before Neal had turned around and saw you and waved, getting out his phone, and not long after your phone pinged. Getting it out, you saw the message Neal had just quickly typed up.

Hey! Are you bringing that coffee up or do I need to come to you?

You lightly smile at your phone, before firing back a text.

Can you come to me? I'm having a tiny crisis

You look up at Peter's office and watch Neal's shoulders shake slightly with a laugh before he sets the file down and makes his way out of Peter's office, stopping by the shelves of files before making his way towards you.

"Hey." You say, passing Neal the takeaway cup in your hands. Neal takes it and kisses your cheek, finally taking a sip of coffee after he does so.

"Hi," Neal says, swallowing. "What's the crisis that means Peter might kill me for not working?"

You raise your eyebrows at Neal, rolling your eyes as you reply. "Firstly, it's a mini crisis-" and that's all you manage to get out before Neal cuts you off.

"You said it was tiny." He states, a smirk making its way onto his face.

"And you say you totally didn't commit fraud," You deadpan before continuing. "Second, I never said you had to ask about it. I just said to come and get your coffee here because of the tiny crisis."

Neal takes another sip of his coffee and as he swallows, he shakes his head before finally replying. "Very well played Miss Y/l/n."

"It's nearly Caffrey to you." You say, finally kissing Neal on the cheek. "And if you really want to know, ehm, I, uh, nearly bumped into someone today that I thought I left back in D.C."

Neal lets out a sigh, remembering the state you were in when he first met you. You had been freshly broken up with and were barely two weeks into a new job as a museum curator when he and Peter were called to a case of potential art forgery. You, only having been there for a couple of weeks, were the prime suspect, but all they found in the end was a broken woman who didn't really know where her life was headed.

After the case, Neal had manged to get in contact with you to ask you for dinner, just to see how you were doing. You, of course accepted as it kept you from sitting and rotting in bed after work, and after a while of Neal checking in, he finally asked you out and you two had been dating ever since and were now on the way to getting married.

All Neal did was hug you. He didn't know who it was and what effect they may have had on your life, but considering the state he met you in...

He didn't think it was exactly going to be great.

When he did finally release you, you gave him a sad smile before taking a shaky breath, trying not to cry.

"Thanks." You say, taking Neal's free hand and squeezing it for a second.

"It's fine," Neal replies, doing the same action back to you. "Do you want to come and sit in Peter's office with me? I know he might be slightly annoyed but I think if we told him the situation he would be fine."

You softly smile at the gesture and look down at your shoes for a moment, composing yourself. "I would, but I have work."

"You don't have work on a Thursday. Well, at least for now because of what happened." Neal shoots back, sipping his coffee with his eyebrows raised at you.

"I don't, but I do have a meeting this evening though that I need to prepare for." You say right back at him in the same tone.

"You can still sit in Peter's office to prepare." Neal says to you, but the serious look on his face drops then and you sense the relisation just by looking at him, his face full of guilt. "Whoever this is, is in the office right now, aren't they?"

You nod and Neal's eyes start flicking around the bullpen and before long you watch as they land on the ground of BAU agents surround just beside his desk.

"It's the profilers, isn't it?" Neal asks, turning to look at you with sad eyes.

"Yeah." You say in a small voice, not sure of what was going to happen next.

And you still didn't as Neal engulfed you in a bear hug, releasing you soon after before taking you over to the elevators and getting in, where waited until you two were on a different floor to hug you.

Stepping back slightly, Neal still had his arms wrapped around your waist as you dried your eyes slightly.

"Which one?" Neal asked, a worried look on his face.

"The really tall one. Brown curly hair." You say back to him and Neal slowly nods, remembering who it was from when Peter had introduced him to the whole team earlier this morning.

"I'm sorry." Neal says, drying the last of your tears as he does so.

"Neal, it's fine. You never knew and I... I didn't tell you." You reply, a sad smile gracing your face.

"Tell me now then, if you don't mind, because if this guy hurt you, I'm not going to put you in the way of that again." Neal says, holding you just that bit tighter than before, worry clear on his face.

You look down for a moment, smiling softly at the fact Neal wanted to know. That he wanted to keep you safe from things you'd escaped from years ago. That he probably wouldn't let you go until he knew how to help you.

"Spencer nearly died on a case about, uh, five and a half years ago now. After he got out of the hospital, we fought. I didn't want or like to see him like that, and after about two months of going back and forth on the issue, we broke up." You softly say, looking Neal in the eyes. "My whole support system was his team, and because I'd moved to D.C. after college and met Spencer through one of his coworkers, I decided to move here."

Neal nods in understanding ever so often as you talk, your sad eyes looking into his guilty ones.

He knew what you meant. Starting a new life in a different city could change everything for someone, even if it was only moving by a few small states. So, even if it meant not seeing you for most of the day on your day off, Neal wanted to keep you as safe as possible.

"Go home." Neal nearly whispered it was that quiet.

"What?" You ask, asserting your head to it's natural position.

"Go home. Prepare there and I'll check up on you during my lunch break." Neal said, now dragging you once again back to the elevators, before getting you both in one and taking you down to the ground floor.

As you both step out of the elevator you give Neal an 'are you sure?' look and he just nods his head, walking with you through the lobby and towards the entrance to the large FBI building.

Just before you leave, you do give Neal a kiss before walking off, concious in the back of your mind that he's probably waiting until you round the corner of the pavement before he goes back inside.

It was just coming up to 3 o'clock when you answered the door to your's and Neal's shared granny flat above June's.

And it was just coming up to 3 o'clock when you stared back at Spencer for the first time in 5 years.

You two stared at each other for a minute, Spencer faltering so badly in what would've been his usual ramblings about he and Derek, who was with him, being FBI and that they would like to ask you a few questions that Derek had to take over.

"Miss Y/l/n, would you be able to come down to the local FBI office to answer a few questions?" Derek finishes off, looking at you with his sunglasses still on as you stare back at him, hair in a messy bun with a hoodie and leggings replacing your work clothes from earlier this morning.

"Yeah, just let me grab my phone, keys and wallet and stick on my shoes and I'll be right with you." You say, sticking your trainers on haphazardly while you grab your wallet, keys and phone, shoving them in your pocket as you walk out the front door, locking it behind you.

As you walk into the White Collar unit, you can already feel Neal's eyes on you, but you don't dare to look at them as Derek and Spencer take you to an interrogation room where you're sat down and left again.

Not for long though.

The silence of the interrogation room was interrupted by Hotch walking in and holding a file, laying photos out in front of you and reading from the file himself.

"You work at a museum, correct?" Hotch asks as you blankly stare at him and the pictures.

"Yes. I do." You reply, keeping the blank stare.

"And there was recently a body of one of your coworkers found in your museum in a new exhibit that had been added that was covered in pig's blood." Hotch then asks, looking up this time, and gesturing to the pictures in front of you.

"Yes, there was. The body was found in the natural world gallery. I'm one of the curators of it." You reply, properly looking at the photos now, seeing someone you worked alongside, especially on that specific exhibit, dead in it, drenched in blood.

"Alright. Now, do you know of anyone acting suspiciously that could've had access to the new exhibit?" Hotch questions, trying to dig a bit deeper still.

Remembering something, you reply, "I think I do actually. One of the interns, Alexandra I think her name is? She's been asking questions recently about museum closing times, when night shift people change over and all that sort of stuff." You reply, a horrified look on your face this time.

"Thank you Miss Y/l/n, you have been very helpful and we'll look into this coworker of yours." Hotch says as she leaves the room and as he does, Spencer walks straight in while you're getting up from your chair.

"I know you left, but you didn't even send me a message saying you were getting married? What the hell Y/n?" Spencer asks, clearly jealous just by his demeanour and snippiness with you.

"Spencer, I don't want to talk just now. I want to go home and go to bed. Let's just leave us where we were when I left." You ask Spencer as he stands there stunned while you walk out of the room and it's not 5 seconds before Neal wraps you in his arms when you walk out of the interrogation room.

"Well done." Neal whispers as he places a kiss to your forehead, holding you as if you were about to break.

You hold on to Neal for dear life as you can feel a set of eyes burning into the back of your skull.

"Can we just go home?" You ask Neal after a while, lifting your head up as you do so to look at him, tears in your eyes.

"Peter said I could as soon as we watched the profilers bring you in." Neal said, and you both walked back home to June's where you spent the rest of the night in bed, not really caring about dinner, just cuddling and ignoring responsibilities for a while.

The next morning, you woke up to rainy weather and to find that Neal wasn't beside, but a note was trying and failing to replace his body heat.

Y/n/n,

I've gone to work and I've also called you in sick today. Will be back soon, probably with lunch, but Peter called and said I was working your profilers today.

Love you,

Neal x

You smiled at it, and tracing Neal's loopy handwriting as you read it.

Getting up, you went and took a shower before getting dressed and making yourself breakfast and as you sat and ate the omelet you had made yourself, you got a call from Peter and the only words you didn't want to hear, spilled from his mouth over the phone.

Neal had been shot.

Neal, for as long as anyone had known him, did not like guns, and would actively try to diffuse a situation if it rose to guns.

So, as Peter explained the situation, your mind jumped to the worst, was he dead? Did he at least make it to surgery? What if he went brain dead? All these thoughts rushing through your head, you only just caught Peter saying that Neal was shot in the abdomen, but would be fine by the looks of things.

With the fact that Neal was alive accompanying you, you ran out the house, adrenaline probably the reason you could still sprint after a few blocks in the pouring rain, only needing a short taxi ride to the hospital after most of the adrenaline wore off, not wanting to get completely soaked through. But as you walked into the waiting room and saw Peter, you hugged him, seeing the remnants of dried blood on his shirt that he'd clearly tried to hide from you.

You started to sob in his arms, soaking Peter's shirt with your wet clothes and your tears, not ready to nearly lose another boyfriend to his job.

"It's okay," Peter soothed, smoothing out your hair. "He's out of surgery now and sleeping. The doctors aren't letting us see him because he needs rest."

You lean back and dry your eyes at that, nodding as you do so.

"Say that Neal will be fine Y/n." Peter says, giving you a very dad-like look.

"Neal will be fine." You says back to Peter, sniffling while you do and with that Peter guides you to a seat as you wait for Neal to wake up.

It had felt like an age when the doctor had finally come through and told you that Neal had woken up as your clothes were nearly dry, and as you burst into Neal rooms, you felt happy tears cloud your eyes.

"Hi." You said from the doorway, tears in your eyes at the sight. The sight of your fiancé awake from surgery with a massive bandage around his middle.

"Hey." Neal replies, giving you his signature smirk. "How you doing?"

"I'm doing better now that you're awake. I heard you jumped in front of Spencer and took the bullet for him." You say as you walk into Neal's hospital room even further.

"I did. I'm sorry I scared you. I promise from now on, to not jump in front of people if they're being shot at." Neal says, taking your hand once you were in arms reach and as Peter chapped the door you both looked at him, and you smiled. You had Neal back.

"I'll let you two chat." You say, squeezing Neal's hand, and Peter gives you a thankful look as you walk out and go straight for the entrance, just to give yourself a breather, even if it was in the rain.

Unbeknownst to you for at least a little bit of time, some of the BAU were there as well, including Spencer, who had a scratched up arm and sprained wrist, but was overall fine because Neal took the bullet for him. He was following you outside and got the fright of his life when you turned around and nearly tackled him to the sodden ground.

Releasing him, you sighed, not wanting to waste to much of your life talking to this man.

"Spencer, why are you following me?" You ask, looking down at your feet and then back up at Spencer.

"Because, I want to know why the ex-convict is not getting broken up with over being shot, but I was. You moved out of D.C. because of me Y/n! You could at least tell me why he's being treated differently!" Spencer rages at you, and you are taken aback by how angry he got.

You shake your head, tears coming to your eyes once again and you finally let them spill, your voice shaky. "Because Spencer, Neal said he wouldn't go out of his way to get himself killed again when I told him I was worried. You brushed me off. You brushed me off and told me that it didn't matter because we all die anyway."

"Well, that makes all the difference doesn't it? What he promised, but I didn't. Y/n, that's the most ridiculous shit I've heard all day." Spencer snaps back and as you cry, you try swiping you under eyes of tears, but that doesn't stop the flow of tears as it comes along.

"I have no idea who this Spencer is, but this is not the fucker I know. You're jealous, Spence. And, I know that we used to be two lovers, but that was all we were and I have no idea who the hell we are now. Because we certainly aren't those two people we knew years ago." You say, holding your ground, making your voice sound stronger than it was. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to my fiancé and leaving you here for your team deal with. Have a nice life Spencer."

And with that, you pushed your damp hair out of your face, swiped your eyes and walked back in, and leant against a wall close to Neal's room, holding your hands now over your eyes to try and stop the tears.

After a while if felt as if they had stopped and walked back into the room, to see Peter and Neal talking away animatedly. You felt at peace as you plonked yourself down on the bed beside Neal's legs and complete as you held his hand, reminding yourself about how you two first met and how everything happened pretty slowly to begin with.

So, you sat there, not interrupting Peter and Neal's conversation, but content knowing that the one person that had wormed their way into every aspect of your life once, was finally out and put in his place.

For good.

a/n: it's currently after 1am my time currently, so I'm going to bed, so goodnight! enjoy this! I certainly enjoyed writing it.

requests are open!

[fromthedust]

Natural History Museum - London 

The Museum first opened its doors on 18 April 1881, but its origins stretch back to 1753 and the career of Sir Hans Sloane, a doctor and collector. Sloane travelled the world as a high society physician. He collected natural history specimens and cultural artefacts along the way. After his death in 1753, Parliament  bought his extensive collection of more than 71,000  items, and then built the British Museum so these items could be displayed to the public. In 1856 Sir Richard Owen - the natural scientist who came up with the name for dinosaurs - left his role as curator of the Hunterian Museum and took charge of the British Museum’s natural history collection. Unhappy with the lack of space for its ever-growing collection of natural history specimens, Owen convinced the British Museum's board of trustees that a separate building was needed to house these national treasures. He drew-up a rough architectural plan in 1859 entitled 'Idea of a Museum of Natural History'. The plan was later referred to by architect Alfred Waterhouse in the design of the Natural History Museum. In 1864 Francis Fowke, the architect who designed the Royal Albert Hall and parts of the Victoria and Albert Museum, won a competition to design the Natural History Museum. However, when he unexpectedly died a year later, the relatively unknown Alfred Waterhouse - a Quaker architect from the north of England - took over and came up with a new plan for the Museum. Waterhouse used terracotta for the entire building as this material was more resistant to Victorian London's harsh climate. Construction began in 1873, and the result is one of Britain’s most striking examples of Romanesque architecture — considered a work of art in its own right and has become one of London's most iconic landmarks. Owen's foresight has allowed the Museum to display very large creatures such as whales, elephants and dinosaurs, including the beloved Diplodocus cast that was on display at the Museum for 100 years. He also demanded that the Museum be decorated with ornaments inspired by natural history. And he insisted that the specimens of extinct and living species kept apart at a time when Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution was revealing the links between them. Along with incorporating Owen’s ideas into his plans, Waterhouse also designed an incredible series of animal and plant ornaments, statues and relief carvings throughout the entire building – with extinct species in the east wing and living species in the west. Waterhouse sketched every one of these sculptures in great detail, even asking Museum professors to check the scientific accuracy of his drawings, before creating the fantastic decorations that complement the Museum’s exhibitions.  While the building reflects Waterhouse’s characteristic architectural style, it is also a monument to Owen’s vision of what a museum should be. In the mid-nineteenth century, museums were expensive places visited only by the wealthy few, but Owen insisted the Natural History Museum should be free and be accessible to all. The Museum took nearly eight years to build, and moving the collections from the British Museum in Bloomsbury was a huge job. Relocating the zoological specimens, which included huge whale bones and taxidermy mammals, took 394 trips by horse and cart spread over 97 days. The Natural History Museum finally opened in 1881. The building’s decorative and Romanesque style by Waterhouse is reminiscent of medieval European abbeys, but it is also a monument to Owen’s vision of what a museum should be: the world’s largest and finest institution dedicated to natural history.

https://www.nhm.ac.uk/about-us/history-and-architecture.html

https://www.nhm.ac.uk/visit/virtual-museum.html

[ivorydragoness44]

Ahkmenrah x Reader: Sarcophagus Part 2

Sarcophagus Part 1

Word Count: 2,388 Warnings/Notes: Minor angst (disappointment, worry, disbelief), Reader kinda panicking over touching ancient artifacts without gloves. Summary: Having yet been able to free Ahkmenrah from his sarcophagus, the Reader tries to find a way into the museum at night.

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

The sun was hanging low in the sky as the day was nearing its end. But for two people inside the Museum of Natural History, they were missing every moment of it. Deep within the ancient Egyptian exhibit, you and your archeologist colleague were hard at work. Though as day was nearing evening,you both were finishing up with cataloguing the hieroglyphs around Ahkmenrah’s sarcophagus. Packing up their equipment into their satchel, your friend and longtime colleague turned to you. “Are you sure that you want to ask to stay in the museum after closing? I mean, I know that this is important and downright fascinating to you. Believe me, I know. And I couldn’t agree more, but…do you honestly think the museum director will allow it?” They kept their voice down. Even in an empty room, the flooring could echo off of the large walls. You plopped down beside the sarcophagus, you bag between your legs. “I hope he agrees. It’s just that we always have a limited amount of time. We’re lucky we got four weeks to do this,” you sighed. Glancing at the scale of the room around you, you shrugged. “This museum has been open for how many years? And no one has though to catalogue the hieroglyphs?” They gave a dry laughs as they finished packing. “Well, they found the tomb and brought all that they could here. They at least have a decent list of all of the items.” “And after a while, they move on to the next big discovery.” “There’s nothing wrong with that,” they stood, slinging their bag over their shoulder. “Not everyone has the luxury to sit around with the same discoveries for a while.” Following their lead, you grumbled. “It’s like searching for garage sales, but having to pay beforehand without knowing if you’ll ever really find something.” With a tilt of their head, they squinted teasingly at you. “And with that strange comparison to archeology…”

Turning toward the exit, you both headed down the straight path. Between the near ceiling height jackals, and away from the ancient glittering gold artifacts. A fleeting glance from you at the far most interior of the exhibit, and you felt it. A mixture of emotions. Guilt, wonder, and even skepticism. Since that fateful evening, you had not dared to utter a word about the incident. Unfortunately, there was your reputation to worry about. The dream career clutched tightly within your grasp as well. Besides, who in their right mind would believe you. It was outlandish. Ridiculous. Outrageously peculiar. And if it was late on a Halloween night, potentially terrifying.

Into the hallway, the pair of you headed straight toward the museum curator’s office. Though as you passed by a few guests, you found that the director was out in the lobby. The dress-suited man’s brows rose in recognition when he noticed the two of you. “Ah! I see that another day’s work has come to a close,” he smiled as you approached. “Yes. Thank you again for allowing us such access into the museum, Doctor McPhee.” “Of course,” he nodded, clasping his hands together. “I was enthralled to see if such an…investigative task would draw in more visitors.” As he glanced around, you held your breath. “However, no one quite attends the exhibits like they used to. They like the new and the exciting. Unless either of you found something worthwhile?” Your partner spoke up first. They seemed always ready when the situation demanded it. “Not yet. We still need to take time to translate the hieroglyphs.” “Right, right. They can’t possibly translate themselves, now can they?” Polite, and partially awkward laughter ensued for a few moments.

A decent amount of courage grew, and you knew that you had to ask. If not now, when? “Um, Doctor McPhee, we were hoping to complete more of our findings after the museum’s closing at night. To also avoid the possibility of disturbing the visitors during the day, and the overall normal functioning of the museum activities.” With a fading smile, the curator shook his head. “No, no. I’m afraid not. I appreciate your hard work, and wanting to maintain the integrity of the museum. But my answer is no.” A heaviness dropped within you. Despite that feeling, however, you smiled politely. “Thank you, anyway,” you nodded. “We understand completely,” your partner added. “Have a good evening.” As further pleasantries came to an end, you made your way to the exit. It was not unlike every other time, and yet, it was. The museum curator held the final word. Someone had to. You were just hoping to leave with an emotion other than disappointment.

Days had passed and you had yet to take a single step back into the museum. It was not so much that you were upset, but that other work needed to be done. Other responsibilities needed to be tended to. You could not stay in the museum forever. Recording the hieroglyphs more legibly and digitally. The time it tok to translate each symbol, and record your findings. As well as to share all of that information with other colleagues, and other such procedures. It could be overwhelming sometimes. What you could not let occupy your thoughts, was Ahkmenrah. Or at least not during work hours. You worried about him. What if he lost faith in you helping him? A stranger he could not see or touch. What if he was still waiting for you? Keeping someone waiting after making such a promise felt more awful as the days went by. But worse yet, what if the whole ordeal never happened in the first place?

Hours later, you woke up with a jolt. The phone was ringing. It was much too loud for you to deal with at the moment. “Hello?” “Okay, wake up!” Your colleague. “Look…I know it’s late…it’s uh…” Squinting in the dark, you glanced at the time. “So late that it’s almost tomorrow.” “Heheh, sorry about that. But this is important. You need to hurry to the museum.” Sudden alarm pushed aside any remaining tiredness and lulling thoughts of sleep. “Why? What’s wrong?” You asked in a rush, sitting up in bed. “Uh, not necessarily. Apparently, someone’s throwing a party.” Your nose scrunched at their words. “A party?” “Yeah. So, I was thinking that maybe we can get inside to check on our pharaoh.” Hope sprung in your chest and you swung out of bed. “Let me get dressed and I’ll be right over. Wait,” you paused in your rush. “Where are you?” “Out front.” They explained with a more casual tone to their voice. They’re playing great music, by the way. The light show is a little much though.“ You laughed. “Thank you for your commentary. I’ll see you soon.”

Minutes dragged on through the late night as you hurried to the museum. When you arrived, your colleague was just where they said they were. “This looks insanely out of place,” you said. Looking up at the building, it appeared as if all of the lights were in use. Not ailing to mention a number of them that seemed more fitted for a concert instead. “What,” they smiled beside you, “you’ve never partied among artifacts before?” You elected to not respond. And with the music pumping as it was, you did not feel like raising your voice to be heard.

A single head nod from your friend, and you both made your way up the front steps. At the top, the glass revealed an interesting party scene. Everyone indoors was dressed like the mannequins and statues from a variety of exhibits. You were about a second away from complimenting the accuracy in their wardrobe before you saw something else. There was no widely used technology like it, that you knew of. Even theaters and roaming exhibits used elaborate costuming and puppetry. The animals prancing fluidly were definitely neither. “That’s..a zebra,” your friend gawked. “There’s no way.” You glanced at each other in disbelief. “We’re either looking at something that we can never afford, or…witnessing something else entirely.” “They look like they’re enjoying themselves though. I mean—” Eventually, through your wide-eyed staring, someone approached. Dressed in dark navy, a museum nightguard made his way over and opened one of the doors. “Uh, hi. This is kinda a private party…so…” For the save, your friend spoke up. “I’m an archeologist. My colleague and I have been residing here for the past month cataloging the pharaoh’s hieroglyphs.” Though you were sure that they were going to say more, the nightguard’s face lit up with recognition. He was much younger than the three you had met on occasion. “Oh! Right,” he smiled. Gesturing at you, he added further. “And you’re the hieroglyphical—” “Egyptologist,” you corrected kindly. “Right. My apologies. I’m Larry, the new nightguard. It’s pretty late, um, did you need something, or left something inside?” He asked with genuine curiosity. You swallowed down your anxious nerves. “I would like to check on the sarcophagus, if you don’t mind.” Urgency pumped through your veins. Uncertainty hung in the air. Could your heart handle any more disappointment? “Oh, uh,” Larry checked behind him. “Yeah. Come on in.” Stepping aside, he let you both into the lively museum. “I’ll escort you over. Mind your step.”

“This is unreal.” Your friend awed beside you. The tyrannosaurus rex skeleton that typically posed on its perch at the entrance was not in its place. Instead, it was chasing after a little remote controlled car.

Leaving the main party scene, you sighed quietly to yourself. The hallway had a dramatic decrease in activity. Your ears, among your other senses, were grateful. Too much all at once was all too overwhelming.

To your right, the exhibit for the Pharaoh Ahkmenrah. “Don’t look up…jackals,” advised Larry. “Protectors of tombs. Anubis,” you recalled, eyeing your friend. “Hah, yeah, and they do take their job very seriously.” “As do we,” your friend said before placing a hand to your arm. Your heart dropped as you passed through the last archway. Stepping around Larry, you noticed something awful. Not only was the stone slab on the floor, but the lid to the sarcophagus had been opened. It was empty. Empty, with the exception of the ancient mummy’’s cloth wrappings. “Oh my,” you covered your mouth. Staring down into the sarcophagus, you could hardly believe your eyes. “It’s open. Who took the mummy out? No one here is authorized.” Larry put his hands up defensively. “No one took the mummy, he walked out.” Staring at the man, your eyes narrowed a fraction. “Walked out?” “Yeah,” he shrugged awkwardly. “He does that. Well, I mean, he technically has to climb out of there…” “Since when?” You asked, remembering that night more clearly. “He was trapped, and the other nightguards wouldn’t let him out.” “He—you know a lot.” Larry paused, looking as confused as your colleague. “How do you know that?” “I was here later than expected, accidentally. I was working.” “Okay, I’m gonna have to ask you about that later,” your friend pointed out. “But where is he, because my Brendan Fraser impression isn’t great.”

By the sound of approaching footsteps, you all turned around. There, walking up the pathway into the exhibit was someone wearing a complete ancient Egyptian pharaoh outfit. The gold gleamed off even in the dim lighting. “Oh, hey, Ahk,” Larry greeted, striding toward the young man. “I have some people who would like to meet you.” Puzzled, you were sure your entire face scrunched in your bewilderment. “Ahk?” Larry smiled between the pair of you. “Yeah, Ahk—” “Hello. I am Ahkmenrah. Fourth King of the Fourth King. Ruler of the land of my fathers.” “Well, shit,” your colleague squeaked out quietly. Familiarity echoed in your ears. That introduction was the exact same that you were given so many nights ago. His voice, though much clearer, was almost striking to hear. And his youthful face? It reminded you of the digital facial reconstructions performed from thorough scans. Ones of which that were not shared with the public for some reason. Though it was from a few years ago, the likeness was uncanny. “Oh my gosh,” you murmured. Tears began to well up around your eyes as you looked at him. Ahkmenrah’s dark brows curved up in curious worry. “Apparently you two have met,” Larry explained. “Like, before I worked here.” The Pharaoh’s eyes widened, understanding. Slowly, he approached you with gold bracelet bound arms extending outward. In the next moment, you found yourself in a tender embrace. “I’m sorry,” you whispered to him. “I’m sorry I could not free you sooner or find a way like I had promised.” “It’s quite alright,” he assured. His hands remained to the upper portion of your back, thumbs rubbing gently. Leaning out of the embrace, he looked to you with soft brown eyes. “Larry, Guardian of Brooklyn, freed me. And so I was able to restore order to the museum.” Your brows nearly shot up to your hairline. “Oh.” Restore order? What was—? Ahkmenrah’s eyes looked between your own as you stilled in place. At such a close distance, you took notice of the pharaoh’s attire. Ancient gold and fabrics. Intricate beadwork that was supposed to be inside their proper display cases. All for their protection and preservation. And you were touching it with your bare hands. A small intake of air lead to you hardly breathing at all. “What’s the matter?” Asked of Ahkmenrah, his face downcast in his concern. “I shouldn’t be touching this without the proper gloves,” you stared in horror. Fingertips shaking over polished blue beads. “I won’t tell,” your friend piped up with a shrug. “Breathe.” Stepping back carefully, you took a steadying breath to calm yourself. The pharaoh’s hands slipping down to your arms. Again, your friend spoke up. This time, they directed themselves toward the museum’s nightguard. “Is there any other surprises?” They asked, looking around. “Like…uh, the tablet glowing?” “Glowing?” You peered behind you. “Yep, it’s glowing. Does it…do that at night?” Ahkmenrah nodded. “After the sun sets each evening.” You gawked at the golden tablet across the room. “I’m not going to believe any of this in the morning.”

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

Thank you for reading!

[whencyclopedia]

Interview: Bodies in the Middle Ages

In the Middle Ages, attitudes to the human body were rife with contradictions: Glorified, oppressed, cared for, and chastised. A new temporary exhibition at the Swiss National Museum in Zürich – coveted. cared for. martyred. Bodies in the Middle Ages – re-evaluates the ways in which medieval Europeans saw, conceived, and imagined the human body. In this interview, James Blake Wiener questions Curator Christine Keller about the exhibition's finer points.

JBW: Dr. Keller, many thanks for speaking to me on behalf of World History Encyclopedia (WHE).

We tend to think of the Middle Ages as an era dominated by faith. However, we should remember that those living in medieval Europe also participated in secular society and non-religious activities. With that in mind, how did you decide to showcase the rich interplay between physical presence and secular interests and pursuits?

CK: In selecting the themes and exhibits, we have tried to show not only the medieval Church's view but also the secular attitude to the body by means of excerpts from medieval literature – such as erotic novels – profane art, and themes such as sport. We try to show that although the Church propagated certain ideas about physicality (in particular the Christian concept of human sexuality as sin), many testimonies from this period, such as popular erotic literature, reports by secular doctors, and obscene badges in the form of personified genitals, speak a language contrary to church morality.

JBW: While the Catholic Church posited the body as the seat of desire and sin, visual representations of the body of Jesus Christ and the femininity of the Virgin Mary were omnipresent. So too were those body parts that believers worshipped as holy relics, which could heal the sick, bring victory in battle, and cure infertility. What can you tell us about the reliquaries and other objects of devotion on display? What secrets do they reveal about medieval body image?

CK: The exhibition includes a reliquary from Limoges from the late 12th century as well as figurative reliquaries such as busts and arm reliquaries from the 14th and 15th centuries. They bear witness to the great veneration and power of the relics of saints. Figurative reliquaries such as busts, arms, legs or feet bring to life or embody the bones or secondary relics stored in them (such as hair, contact relics, etc.). As so-called 'speaking reliquaries', they thus make the abstract, sacred powers more visible. It is relevant for the medieval image of the body that the relics simultaneously reflect death and life and that the saints venerated in the relics were regarded as mediators between this world and the afterlife. The wooden bust reliquaries from the 14th century (for example the Ursula reliquary) were painted in such a way that the surface appears flesh-like, the eyes animated and alive. In these busts, the saints met the viewer as the 'living dead'.

JBW: Death was an immediate and looming concern to our medieval predecessors. Average lifespans were lower than they are today and disease was rampant. How did the concern of death and the belief in everlasting life – on the day of resurrection – shape conceptions of the body during this era?

CK: Death and mortality were omnipresent and a major topic in the Middle Ages. In view of the resurrection, care was taken during one's lifetime to ensure that one's own life remained as free as possible from sins and vices or that these could be redeemed during one's lifetime. In terms of the body, this meant among other things: no gluttony (gula), no lust (luxuria), no vanity (superbia), no indolence (acedia). The concept of bodily resurrection was characterised by the statements of one of the early Church Fathers, Augustine of Hippo (354-430): according to his interpretation, the physical condition at the time of death was irrelevant for the resurrection. For example, if a dead body was mauled by animals or burned, it still emerged from the grave on the day of resurrection intact and at the age of 30 or 33, the age at which Jesus died. In this sense, depictions of the resurrected show them with their intact, naked bodies.

JBW: It was during the Middle Ages that a number of first steps in public health were undertaken: the practice of quarantine; the establishment of hospitals; and the provisioning of medical care and social assistance. There was, as a consequence, an interest in health, hygiene, and hospice, which is delineated throughout the exhibition. I wondered if you might share with us some details about bathing and cupping during the Middle Ages. I suspect many readers would be surprised to learn how commonplace these and other practices were in actuality.

CK: The medieval theory of health is based on the 'theory of the four humours' and the four elements. If the humours (blood, phlegm, black and yellow bile) are not in balance, the person becomes ill. In order to maintain this balance, an excess of substances must be equalised. Bathing parlours (with sweat baths), cupping, and bloodletting – or the application of leeches – were used for this purpose. Numerous health guides, which were particularly widespread in the late Middle Ages, describe the appropriate time for these methods and use illustrations – the so-called Vein Man – to point out the suitable body parts and the appropriate time for bloodletting. Health care was a major topic throughout the Middle Ages and was widespread.

JBW: Bodies in the Middle Ages underscores that while medieval attitudes to the human form and body were contradictory, much has remained the same across the centuries. Whether through the quest for physical perfection or a preoccupation with health or illness, we are not all that different from our medieval predecessors. What do you hope visitors gain from a visit to the exhibition? Moreover, what would you like the public to learn about the Middle Ages as a result of your work?

CK: A survey in the exhibition revealed that the exhibition on the body in the Middle Ages inspired the majority of our visitors to think about the body in the present day. We hope that with this exhibition we can show a somewhat different view of the Middle Ages and that we can break down the often still prevalent stereotypes of a rigid and anti-body era.

JBW: Dr. Keller, thanks so much for sharing your expertise with our audience. On behalf of World History Encyclopedia, I wish you many happy adventures in research.

coveted. cared for. martyred. Bodies in the Middle Ages runs at the Swiss National Museum in Zürich, Switzerland until July 14, 2024.

Christine Keller is an art historian and curator at the Swiss National Museum.

Continue reading...

[dr-xanders-diary]

Our beginning.. I love you..

From the very first time I ever saw you at that whos-it party, I knew I loved you. At first I just didn't know how I loved you. That detail would come later, but from the very first time I saw you, I knew, you were meant to be mine. You were meant for me. A perfect match. God himself couldn't have made us more perfect for each other. At the time, you just didn't know this.

God himself couldn't have made you more perfect. From the way you held yourself, the way you walked, spoke, your voice, your hair, down to the very fiber of your being. You, in all your perfection, standing there amidst the noise of everyday life, like an angel to calm a storm. In the very first moments of seeing you I knew, you'd change me. I would change for the better, I'd grow confident, sociable, I'd gain all the things that I had previously lacked. And that, that is when I decided in that very moment, to change the very course of both your life and my own life.

I took the first steps, I walked up to you, smiled and mustered all the charm that I could. Every romance book I had read, every detail of a loving relationship I had studied, and watched in envy, all came crashing within me and prepared me for this very moment and every moment to come. I was going to make you fall in love with me, I was going to become your prince charming, I was going to be your knight in shining armor. You didn't know it yet, but you would fall in love with me, and you would be deeply in love with me.. soon. Very soon.

In the moment, things went so quickly. I smiled, gestured a small wave with my hand, and reached out and gently took yours and said, "Hello, I'm ********** (X), you must be-.. sorry I don't think I quite caught your name-, or your number. I have a terrible memory do you mind reminding me". In that moment I could see you, your eyes gleamed, I'd never seen someone so perfect this close before. That moment changed my life, it changed me. By the end of the night we exchanged numbers and had spent several hours talking, I got to walk you out of the party and to your vehicle.

An handed down tan 1996 Toyota corolla, that your dad gave to you so you could get to work and home easily without having to worry about taking the train and bus. Which I learned upon looking into you.

You are smart, charismatic, kind, and so fucking gorgeous. The way your mind works, I could spend several hours listening to you and what you thought. You are everything I never thought I'd find in a person. Perfection, at least to me. I spent the next day checking and looking into every single detail I could find, about you; your past, your family, your history of dating, the schools you've attended in the past, your friends. Learning, studying, watching every video of you I could find, digging through thousands of pages of information of you I could get my hands on.

One thing I've learned, is you're very open about what you like; what you do, where you go, where you've been. I've learned your favorite to-go orders from your favorite restaurants' you have visited in the past. Places you've traveled and for how long, your therapists name, your doctors and the things you struggle with. You know.. you really should put your social media profiles on private. Someone dangerous could come across them and get the wrong idea of you. I need you to be smarter, safer than how you have been. The last thing we need, is someone coming along and finding out who you are, how special you are and taking you, away from me. With the amount of information about you, that you've shared online, I've learned what things you would like, and what things you wont. The algorithm I created for you, tediously curated to suit your tastes, will come in handy in order for me, to keep you happy.

As time went on, as we went on dates, on outings, I got to learn in depth, of the things you enjoy, we spent hours in libraries, museums, gardens, walking and hiking, going to new restaurants'; ones I recommended. I didn't think you'd be so into physical activities, but of course you are, you're perfect. I had a bit of catch up to do, to get into shape and gain the same stamina as you at first. But now I can outlast you tenfold, I can lift more than you much more easily, I can out run you, I can last longer than you running. I knew it, I knew you would make me a better person. I am better, because of you. I learned where you lived in the past, where you live now, plenty before you ever dare invite me over. I just had to know where you stayed, what you did when you were home, what you wore.. how you, pleasured yourself. So I could be the best person for you, so I can be the only person for you.

Of course the first time I ever went over, I didn't get to step inside on the account that I was only picking you up for a date. But later. While you worked, I took the liberty to go visit your ever so humble abode. I have to admit, you've quite the green thumb, darling. And your taste for interior design isn't bad at all, your apartment is-.. so very you. And you left me a present, leaving your recently worn night clothes out, half-hazardly hanging on the corner of your bed. What.. are you tempting me? Of course you are, and I just so happen to not be able to help myself; you'll probably blame your shirt missing on the dog. I took your night shirt in my left hand and brought it up to my nose. Inhaling your scent, still fresh. You smell so good. So fucking good, I can almost feel you here with me. I almost couldn't contain myself. 'Fuck. No. I can't disgrace your space like this' So, I stuffed most of that shirt in my pants pocket, the other part hanging out. Just for now, you'll never know it's missing and if you do.. well.

You know.. the inside of someone's home, or apartment is so telling, every detail you think doesn't matter. Well it says a lot about someone, and you, you're a clean person, a neat person, sophisticated. Like me. We are the same. Almost. But a good thing I learned, is that your dog is very friendly, he couldn't hurt a fly even if he wanted to. He's very sweet and loving, he's honest, and will think of me as a new friend by the time we 'officially' met.

I didn't mind playing the slow game, especially with what you've been through with your shit exes. I made sure to do things right, for you. For us, and finally it paid off. But you know, by the time you invited me over and showed me your favorite books, I already knew, I read them prior, for you.

You thought that I was smart, charismatic, and charming. So much so that, that night you invited me into not only your home, but your bed. Every touch against your skin, every kiss, every slow bite. Methodical, every rhythmic movement, careful and oh-. Your gasping, panting and moaning with every touch, every movement, just the way you like it. I knew that everything would come in handy, because I'd never seen you so pleasured. Especially when my lips wrapped around your- oh, and I trailed my tongue up along every crease and crevasse, teasing and swirled around your- oh. While I occupied my left hand to slowly apply pressure just above your pelvis, and glide my fingers in and out of your- ah mmn. And did you just-? How fast. But I know you're not done, I know that you can go again, that this is just the beginning of a well spent night.

We spent hours groaning, moaning, slow grinding and thrusting over and over, touching, grabbing and gripping onto each other until finally you couldn't go anymore. I made sure to wear you out well, to drain you of every orgasm in you. And I, well I had a great time making love to you in a way I hoped you could never forget. After, you had such shaky legs you could barely stand. I made sure you laid until you could walk, caring for you, making sure you went to the bathroom to pee, and drank water and had a snack. Before we laid and cuddled. You fell asleep in my arms as I spoke to you as calmly, comforting and loving as I could.

"That's okay, just feel the beat of my heart, the weight of my chest rising and falling against your own. Breathe in slow with me, inhaling and exhaling. You were wonderful. You made quite the mess~." "Ah yes, I did. I'm glad I was." "Yes. You did very good, amazing actually. You're such a good-" "You're really gorgeous, and your eyes shine like no other. They hold galaxies."

By morning we were officially dating, calling each other love, darling, honey. You were finally saying you were, mine. And that I was yours.

The long game does pay off.

This was just our beginning.. I love you.

And now you love me too, just like I said you would..

[psychicwound]

if the curator doesn't appear in empire of death i will genuinely be surprised . he is a version of tom baker as the doctor . tom baker who was the doctor during sutekh's first appearance . there is scenes in empire of death (as told by promo shots) that look like the museum from day of the doctor . it's probably one of the last chances to get tom baker back onscreen before he passes away (he's ninety) . & generally . it'd just fit . really well .

[delta-pavonis]

Fic: Special Exhibition

Dreamling (human AU) || Rated E || 10k words || complete Alternate Universe - human, sequel to Placebo Effect, Doctor Hob Gadling, museum curator Dream, sequel to fake relationship to real relationship, Dream was an unrepentant slut in college, Hob is still an unrepentant slut, getting too deep into a relationship too quickly, Bisexual Hob Gadling, Lust at First Sight, Top Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Bottom Hob Gadling, Genital Piercing, Cock Piercing, Frenum piercing, Cock Rings, Cock Slut, Chaps, Face-Sitting, fluid bonding, Safe Sane and Consensual, Barebacking, swearing fealty, Leather, leather harness, Hob gets railed, deep dicking, Coming Untouched, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Anal Fisting, Cowgirl Position, Finger Sucking, Ass to Mouth, Impact Play, minor impact play using hands, Orgasm Edging, Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Delay, Light BDSM, Dom/sub Undertones, Porn with Feelings

Hob responded to the DM he got from @.TheArtofDreaming because it was by far the most interesting response he had gotten within 48 hours of posting that video with him saying he would do a fake relationship call. Wordsmithing aside, the fact that Dream had just laid out what was pretty much the exact kind of gig Hob had wanted when he made the silly thing was just serendipitous. Honestly, at first pass Hob had not at all expected @.TheArtofDreaming to be AMAB. It had been a pleasant surprise. Not that Hob had lied about his sexuality–no, he was as 3 of a 3 on the Kinsey Scale as one could get–but after Eleanor it has just been… harder. With people who presented more feminine. Not for lack of interest, but there was a lot of baggage to sort through. In contrast, texting with Dream was easy: he was engaging, responsive, thoughtful, and quick-witted. They were both passionate about what they did, for work and for play. So, yeah, lunch seemed like a great idea and maybe he could end up being friends with one of his favorite museum’s curators! Maybe he could even get a behind-the-scenes tour someday. Oh, what simple goals that naive Hob had set.

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[timelordinefficiency]

The Curator!!! Remember the Curator!!!! An older Doctor(Tom Baker) who retired and became a curator for an museum. But like… how?? The Doctor retiring? A person who’s guilt eats at them so much they won’t stop running away from everything always. It was unfathomable that the Doctor who could slow down and retire. But now, there is!! He’s settled down and with his family, happy. So many lines fit even better now too, because the Curator kept going back and forth about whether or not he was the Doctor. Always attributing it to the paradox of them meeting, but he had just meet his other selves, why care about it being another? Because he’s a whole different paradox of being the Doctor also including being apart of his future. The line, “I could only tell you what I would do, oh, if I were you. Perhaps, I was you, of course or perhaps.. you are me.” “Thank you.” “Congratulations.” That’s him!! Some future version of 14 regenerated and said ‘might as well cause the other me surely won’t.’ Someone had to go and tell 11 that Gallifrey wasn’t killed by the Moment. And that someone had to be him

[maple-keenes]

summary:

"The problem with Penacony for Aventurine—the real problem, besides Sunday Oak and his insufferable attitude, besides Robin’s mysterious disappearance, besides Topaz and Jade’s incessant need to get in his business and stay in his business—is that the Penacony Museum has just hired a new curator from outside of the Family to assist with the research and care of some of the more precious artwork. It’s practically unheard of for the board of directors to hire someone outside their nepotistic inner circle, so someone being called in from the outside had to be special.

And Doctor Veritas Ratio sure is fucking special. And special, thy name is Aventurine."

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(or, the stonehearts are an elite group of art thieves targeting the penacony museum. this would be fairly straightforward, if the museum hadn't just hired aventurine's ex-situationship as their new assistant curator. there is no way this can possibly go wrong.)

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this was too fucking long to post in full on tumblr since this absolute monstrosity ended up being almost 22k but please enjoy baby's first foray into the hsr fandom and ratiorine! unfortunately these two have me in a chokehold so it's y'all's problem now x

(please note, this is explict!)

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 24

The Second Doctor took Jamie and Victoria to Traken once. The Keeper at the time was so fond of Victoria he gave her a piece of his mind that would one day become Viola.

The whole idea behind clowns came from the ravenous predators of the Time Lords.

When the Doctor's biodata had been altered by the Faction Paradox, the Eighth Doctor's eyes pulsed between blue and green.

The Herald is a monstrous version of the Thirteenth Doctor from an alternate future where she was absorbed by the chaos while trapped in the Catastrophia, a universe of madness. The Herald exists alongside the original Thirteenth and the Sanity, another counterpart.

Katarina was originally judged to be neither good nor evil and was sentenced to wander for eternity in the fields. The First Doctor refused to accept this from the judges and instead went to the highest authority he could, Hades. (He wanted to talk to their manager.) After being convinced by Persephone, Hades relented and allowed Katarina into the Elysian Fields.

Even before this, it was difficult to even get Katarina across the River Styx anyway. Charon considered her unclean because she had taken her own life. To get her across, the First Doctor originally offered his signet ring as payment, but they instead scattered Charon's coins and stole his boat.

Susan made an archive of all of her adventures on the TARDIS. The Thirteenth Doctor would later find and watch all of them.

The Fifth Doctor, Nyssa, Tegan, and Adric once went to a planet full of statues. These statues were highly intelligent. Adric started turning into a statue after the statues started saying that he belonged with them, but the Doctor saved him (because no, that boy is not allowed to turn himself into a statue), to his shock and horror. Adric was very angry about this for a long time since the Doctor didn't let him choose his destiny.

Liv Chenka has referred to the Eighth Doctor as a "kitten with a ball of string" before.

For Yaz's birthday, the Thirteenth Doctor picked up a Sontaran Frosted Boom Cake from a Sontaran bakery, some Zeppelins from Blitz-era London to function as balloons, and a candelabra from Paris to function as birthday candles. The cake ended up exploding into a mess of pink chocolate, but Yaz was delighted regardless.

Padrac was an old classmate of the Doctor's and a member of the same zero-grav hyperball team. The Eighth Doctor referred to him as "Paddy" several times. Like many old classmates and friends of the Doctor's, however, Padrac was evil and tried to not only kill the Doctor but destroy the vast majority of everything in existence.

Cardinal Zero regenerated into an avian.

The Fifth Doctor and Nyssa landed on Mondas as the Cybermen were being created. Due to his alien biology, the Doctor was used as a template to produce fully functioning Mondasian Cybermen.

The Thirteenth Doctor once served as an undercover assassin to the King. Eventually, she was contracted to kill...the Doctor.

When the Twelfth Doctor caught the common cold, he thought he would have to regenerate.

A little girl named Lizzie once snuck on board the TARDIS while the Thirteenth Doctor was away and dropped a peanut butter sandwich down the console. This broke the navigational systems.

While trying to guess the Ninth Doctor's name, the Grimminy-Grew called him Brother Lungbarrow, Theta Sigma, and the Oncoming Storm.

One time while posing as a museum curator, the Thirteenth Doctor met Missy. Missy wanted to know the location of several items that had been stolen from her but never actually realized she was talking to the Doctor.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

[lammydraws]

COTL x SDV Crossover AU

I've been brewing something, and it's not Ancient Fruit Wine I promise. Inspired by Husky's Farmer AU I started working on a Crossover AU with Stardew Valley.

Prepare for some of my unfiltered notes and messy doodles.

Lamb - Charlie, he/they

Their family owns a livestock farm, which is owned by their parents. He and his siblings often help out around, taking care of the animals but he still has enough freedom and time to help other villagers and farmers such as Narinder. Livestock because that's kind of similar to taking care of the cultists, right? Right?? :'D

(this is basically like Marnie's Farm)

Charlie was found as an infant in the forest by his parents who brought him home to be raised like one of their own children. He is not aware of that, but he understands junimo language & can sense a certain aura from the deeper parts of the forest. He's also better at picking up the magical aura surrounding the magical creatures.

Bishops

Their god form is similar to their Eldritch form, whilst their disguise / mortal form is similar to their regular Bishop design. In their mortal form they still stand out though, considering they're usually taller than regular villagers and always surrounded by a mystic aura of sorts.

Narinder

Narinder moved to the valley recently. It's not clear if he did so on his own wish or if someone, or something made him. Either way he's here to start a new life, and despite not having any experience he still somewhat grows into this role. He's glad he can turn over a new leaf without the prejudice of his past life.

Lamb welcomes him the day he moves to the valley and quickly notices he has no idea what he is doing, and after watching him struggle for a bit he offers his help. Narinder, being too prideful to ask help on his own accord, accepts the neighbouring farmer's advice and help albeit a bit hesitant at first.

His original domain is the very bottom of Skull Cavern, but since he left for unknown reasons the residing monsters have run wild and rampant and the very cavern itself has twisted and distorted by the uncontrolled magic, making it run seemingly endlessly.

Twins

Baal is a full time adventurer in the Adventurer's Guild, he frequently goes on long trips down the dungeons to slay monsters, collect loot and bring home ores, minerals and weapons. Aym used to be an adventurer as well, but stepped down from a full time position after he injured his eye. He runs a flower shop attached to Forneus' General Store & sometimes helps out in the Guild selling goods. 

Most other characters fill pretty expected or similar roles.

Forneus runs the local general store.

Rakshasa works at the Saloon.

Kudaii runs the blacksmith/weaponsmith. Clauneck is the fortune teller, perhaps also with a semi-permanent location in or near town.

Fisherman runs the fish shop.

Leshy

Leshy, a magical, possibly godly creature residing in the deep woods [based on the DeepWoods Mod that adds an infinite dungeon to the secret woods]. Sometimes he surfaces to the lighter parts of the forest. Not the only godly creature in the valley.

Heket

Heket resides in the Witch's Swamp. She stays mostly hidden and rarely shows herself to mortals, being more reclusive and drawn back. Few villagers are aware of the strange rune in the cave near the Railroads leading to her Swamp, and even if any dared to enter they'd be chased away quickly.

Kallamar

Kallamar resides in a deep ocean cave near shore. He frequently exits his domain to pass as mortal and help the villagers around town, usually dealing with illness and disease. He does not disclose his godly status though and villagers are under the assumption he's the doctor from the next village, coming into the valley ever so often to help patients.

Shamura

Shamura is the museum curator, at least that’s what it seems like. Them being the oldest they are very skilled at passing as a mortal with little to no flaw. Despite this they avoid the outdoors and don’t attend any holidays or town gatherings so as to not slip up in their disguise. 

Their origin is unknown, but some suspect them to come from a faraway island.