#weird to be sorta done

[theboywithburninghands]

We’ve arrived. The final chapter, apart from an epilogue. I hope it was worth the wait. Some characters by @noble-crimson and @cleoarrow appear again. Also, @toonsforkicks22 and @fernstarsblog the story is complete now. Phew… I can’t believe I actually did it.

T/W: Violence, parental and emotional abuse, homophobia, drug addiction, era-appropriate sexism.

Primum Peccatum Final Chapter: Thanks for The Memories

Their reception was held within Lakepoint. The function center was decorated with white lace and the occasional splash of red or blue. The round tables, six seats at each, were dressed with white tablecloths, a glass carafe in the middle of each, filled halfway with water and a red and blue rose. Fine white ceramic plates, each with a silverware roll wrapped with a white napkin and a red or blue satin ribbon. On the long rectangular center table was a three-decker Angel food cake, frosted elegantly with white buttercream, purple and green sugar blossoms climbing up the sides. Jade green bottles of champagne, their tops wrapped in gold foil, sat beside dozens of identically arranged flute glasses. To the right of the champagne, a large silver kettle of coffee, several boats of cream and a bowl of frosty sugar cubes beside white mugs on white saucers.

Pomni walked with her husband, hand in hand, to their reserved head table. As was customary, the bride’s side of the family sat with them. Vladimir, Mirella and Zooble sat with them, along with Mr. Kinger. He was family. Pomni was the last to be seated, as she had elected to bring everyone something to drink. Normally, the bride wasn’t to raise a finger for her guests. But it was Pomni’s wedding, and she couldn’t be persuaded otherwise.

“Your vows were absolutely beautiful, piccola, they brought me to tears…” Mirella sighed, sipping from her flute of champagne.

“I am glad they moved you, mother,” Pomni Krolik said. She finished the cup of coffee she had poured for herself, wiping her chin with a napkin. “I spoke from the heart. As you have so often told me not to do.”

Mirella’s reply was cut off by Mr. Kinger.

“Mr. Krolik, what are you to do now? Now that you’re married I assume you must find a trade.” he said, sipping his black coffee.

“I would first like to fully recover from my illness, as well as enjoy some time with my wife, before I seek an occupation.” Jax replied. His tone was pleasant but somewhat uneasy. “There is also the matter of inheritances.”

“Indeed,” Vladimir said. “All of that shall be taken care of. In just a few days, your estate will be prepared. I have the paperwork for the property and for your inheritances in my desk-”

“In the first drawer on the right,” Pomni added. “All your documents to be signed are put there for safekeeping and ease of access.”

“Yes dear, your memory never fails, does it? In the first drawer on the right.” Vladimir smiled. “Goodness, I’m proud of you. You’ve adapted so well to your circumstances… And you were so obstinate before!”

“Adapting is certainly an accurate description,” Pomni said. She picked up her quarter-full flute of champagne and sipped. She was not a fan of drinking. It spoiled her focus. So she opted for a paltry amount for ceremony’s sake.

“I suppose now is as good a time to say so. Welcome to our family.”

A deep voice behind her made Pomni turn in her seat. Drexl Krolik stood, arms tucked behind his back and dwarfing just about everyone at the table. Boone stood at his side, his mouth firmly closed. He met Pomni’s eyes and glanced away.

“Mr. Krolik, I’m delighted to see you! Wasn’t the ceremony lovely?” Mirella asked.

“Quite. I was impressed by my son and my daughter-in-law’s rhetoric,” Drexl said, clapping a massive paw to Jax’s shoulder, who flinched conspicuously.

“And what a performance by your second son!” Kinger exclaimed. “That voice of his is astounding, where did you train him?”

Drexl sniffed. “He’s self taught. My involvement with such frivolities is minimal, I assure you. He is a career driven lad, much like the rest of my family. While we were on the subject, however…”

Drexl turned to look at Pomni, who had quaffed her mostly empty champagne flute.

“I was curious, Mrs. Pomni, if you had the chance to consider my offer? Krolik International would love to have you onboard as a member.”

Pomni took a deep breath and smiled, setting her empty champagne glass down on the table with a clink, a bit of leftover froth trickling down and resting at the bottom of the flute.

“Why yes I have, Mr. Krolik! I’ve pondered your offer for some time now, and after careful consideration, I’ve decided that I’d rather have a job wiping the prime minister’s arse than work for you!”

Kinger put a hand to his mouth in a soft gasp. Zooble made a sound that sounded like an abnormally loud cough. A deafening silence fell over the hall.

“Pomni-!” her father exclaimed. “M-Mr. Krolik, I’m truly sorry, she doesn’t normally drink- I’m certain that she didn’t mean a word of-”

“Father?” Pomni arose from her seat. “Firstly, I am not inebriated. Secondly, I don’t feel at all comfortable working with that man. You’ve already pawned me off once, I’d prefer if you didn’t do it again…”

Her father spun about, a vein popping on his forehead. “Pomni Shutnyk-!”

“Pomni Krolik, father. Please get it right. It was your idea. And if you please, shut up a moment. I’m explaining to you why I don’t want to work for this man. You will let me speak.”

Pomni turned from her stunned father and looked back at Drexl Krolik.

“Mr. Krolik. I can’t speak on your skills as a businessman, because from what I can tell, you are perfectly successful. However, as a father and authority figure, you disgust me on a visceral level. What do you gain from putting your hands on your own sons?”

Drexl’s eyes ballooned to double their size. “Are you accusing me of harming my own brood?” he whispered.

“Ha. Please don’t playact being offended. I know you harm your own “brood.” In fact, I saw you slap Osvaldo and Boone in the face the evening I had dinner at your manor.”

Jax winced. Other guests had turned to look in confusion. The Gentleman in Red, unnoticed, finished cutting himself a piece of cake and watched from the end of the table.

“That’s true, isn’t it Boone?” Pomni said. “Your father is rather wicked at the best of times, is he not?”

Pomni took a look at Boone, who shrank and stammered. Everyone had turned to look by now. Ragatha clutched her necklace of beads and whispered prayers to herself.

“Pomni, you’ve said quite enough-” her father began.

“Father, do you love me?” interrupted Pomni.

“Do I-?”

“If you love me, you will not give me over to Mr. Krolik. He is a fiend.” Pomni gestured to Drexl, who stood like a bull. “I will suffer under his leadership, make no mistake.”

Jax got to his feet. “I’m afraid I must agree, Mr. Shutnyk. My father would surely bring harm to your daughter should he be put in a position of authority over her. As her husband, I cannot allow this.”

“This is obscene!” Drexl barked. “I am appalled at your lack of decorum, the both of you! I magnanimously offer you, my daughter-in-law, a position at my company despite your gender and this is my thanks?!”

“Yes,” Jax replied.

“Allow me to elaborate, ladies and gentlemen!” Pomni climbed onto her chair so she could be seen and heard more clearly. Perched up there, she looked like some form of odd white Phoenix.

“Be careful, dear..!” Kinger exclaimed.

“That incredible performance that you heard this morning? Mr. Krolik found the idea of his son composing and performing a song for our wedding so abhorrent that he struck him in the face! I witnessed it, roughly around 9:30 PM on the seventh of this month. The performer, Osvaldo, my brother-in-law, could not join us for the reception, because he worried for his safety and had to flee the premises. Fearful of his own father’s wrath!”

Pomni glared at Drexl, her eyes glinting with righteous anger. “From what I’ve been told, your four sons and daughter in law live in terror of you. You’re impossible to please yet entirely too easy to displease! And when you’re displeased-”

“Pomni-” Mirella began.

“Mother, hush.” Pomni snapped. “And when you’re displeased, you hurt people. So if I were to displease you as your underling, what would you do? Hm? Hit me? You’d knock me flying. Perhaps even concuss me! But you wouldn’t be caught, no, a man like you is talented at not leaving marks, correct?”

“It’s true,” Boone said.

Drexl whipped his head around to look at his older son. Pomni and Jax looked at him as well.

“It’s true. My father is a tyrant,” Boone said, taking several steps away from Drexl and avoiding his searing gaze. “In fact, not long ago, he did this.”

Boone opened his mouth, placing a thumb and finger over one of his front teeth and neatly plucking it from the socket. The guests gasped.

Ragatha hastened her prayers. The crow-woman stood and left the reception, clutching some silverware in her wings. The Gentleman in Red had a bite of cake.

“I did no such thing!” Drexl thundered.

“But you did, father! You’re always trying not to leave marks, but this time you boxed me a might too smartly, didn’t you?” Boone shot back.

“Cease these lies at once!” Drexl roared.

“Or else you’ll do what?” Boone shouted back. “Knock a few more teeth loose? Oh, I’m so very scared!”

The patriarch of the deer family, possibly even taller than Drexl with fur so brown it was nearly black, rose to his feet. His cinnabar eyes burned with severity.

“What kind of a man puts his paws on his children, Krolik?” he demanded. His voice was a heavily accented growl.

“Lawrence, this is all nonsense!” Drexl spluttered.

“No man at all,” Kinger said, slowly shaking his head.

“I’m afraid the bridegroom speaks the truth,” Altonicus said, standing from his table. “I was often spared from my father’s wrath on account of being the oldest son, a guilt I struggle with to this day… But even I have been denied meals and been a recipient of floggings. I became a doctor because it was my passion, and it happened to be profitable, so my father allowed it. Osvaldo wishes to be a vocalist, and is undeniably skilled, as you all have seen, but father sees such a career as and “womanly.” So he refuses to allow Osvaldo the chance to pursue his dream.”

Kali got to her feet. “It isn’t limited to his offspring, either. I live in fear of Drexl as well. Alton and I have avoided bringing a child into this world because I would worry for their safety… And I…”

Kali covered her mouth and sniffled, Altonicus holding her other paw.

“Kali, may I?” Jax said.

“You’ve all said quite enough!” Drexl growled.

“Slanderous little harlot… I would never-”

“I have not had the flu.” Jax interjected.

“Pardon me?!” his father barked.

“I have not had the flu. Rather, I have been ill, but not from any rogue paramecium.” Jax turned to his sister in law and repeated himself. “Kali, may I?”

Kali wiped her eyes and nodded. “I’ve bore this anxiety long enough. Tell your story.”

Jax smiled gently and nodded.

“This is all hearsay, hearsay and lies!” Drexl thundered.

“No, Mr. Krolik. I would like to hear from my son-in-law.” Vladimir said coolly.

“Thank you, Mr. Shutnyk.” Jax said. “When I was 17, Boone and I got into an altercation. I fell from a bridge, and broke my arm and several ribs…”

Boone looked down at his shoes, still maintaining a careful distance from his father.

“Kali tried to ease my pain by giving me a bit of laudanum. She only knew that laudanum was a powerful sedative, not a narcotic, and wanted to grant me some respite from the pain, because she is a good sister…”

Kali broke into sobs, sinking into her chair. Alton wrapped an arm around her. Jax had begun pacing around the reception.

“And thus, when I began craving more laudanum and the pain returned worse than ever, Kali was forced to hide her mistake and bring me more. Now, why was this the best choice, you may ask? My brother is a doctor, surely he would have a way to remedy the situation… It was because I was still living with my father.”

Drexl simply stared, livid.

“If he discovered Kali made this mistake, no matter how well-intentioned and repairable, he would surely fly into a rage. He certainly would have attacked her, or Alton… Perhaps even me for acting an inebriate. And so she gave me more opium to ease the pain and avoid arousing his suspicions until I had healed, yet had a hopeless craving for poppy. I struggled with it for five years…

“That is why I’ve been ill. I apologize for lying to you all. My wife encouraged Kali and Alton to aid in getting me off the awful tincture now that I’ve been away from my father’s prying eyes. I have been in the midst of battling withdrawals. It is incredibly unpleasant, but I am on the mend.”

Jax, now at the other end of the hall, turned to address the guests. They were utterly transfixed.

“Now you all see the depth of the terror my father inspires. No mistakes are permitted around him, lest you face his wrath, be you offspring or in-law. Pomni and I apologize for dampening the mood of the wedding, but we wanted everyone to know my father’s true character.”

The door opened, and Osvaldo entered. He held a file under his arm, gasping and holding it to his chest upon seeing his father standing in the middle of the mostly silent room.

“Osvaldo, welcome in. Would you like to add to the litany of accusations against your father?” Pomni asked with poison politeness.

“Don’t be frightened, Aldo,” Jax said, standing at his older brother’s side and accepting the file that he girded himself with. “You can say what you like.”

The gray rabbit shook his head frantically. “I shouldn’t…” he muttered.

“Do not contribute to this slander, Osvaldo.” Drexl warned.

“Sir, we would like to hear from your son,” the son of the deer family said. He looked at the gray rabbit with an expression that might be read as protective. Osvaldo blushed and swallowed, but shook his head again.

“Osvaldo. We’ll entertain this piffle no longer. We are returning home.” Drexl said.

Sister Ragatha approached Osvaldo. Although he was an inch or so taller than she, she bent slightly at the waist to speak to him.

“Osvaldo… My child, there is nothing to fret about.” she said, using her softest and voice and wearing her warmest smile. “I think you’ve been exceptionally brave today already. However, I need to know the truth because it concerns a dear friend of mine. Would Pomni be in danger working for your father?”

Osvaldo chewed his lip, squinting his eyes shut.

“Ozzy,” Boone said. “Go ahead. It will be alright.”

After an agonizing number of seconds, he nodded.

“Mutinous little CUR!!!”

Drexl drove his fist into Pomni’s table, knocking it onto one leg and catapulting champagne flutes and coffee cups across the hall, which shattered into dust or clinked shrilly across the floor.

Mirella yowled and fell out of her chair, Vladimir diving to her aid. Zooble was struck on the armpit by the tabletop and knocked to the ground. Pomni tumbled from her chair as well, shielding her face with her arm with a loud exclamation. Kinger slid over and caught her before she hit the ground, although she took him to his knees with the impact of landing. Jax made a dash for Pomni from across the hall, losing a shoe mid-stride. The table wobbled feebly on its solitary leg before falling onto its side, the tablecloth fluttering to the ground and forks and spoons and butter knives sliding free from their undone rolls.

“Mrs. Krolik, are you quite alright?!” Kinger asked, holding the small woman tenderly as Jax skidded to his side, kneeling to assure that she was unharmed.

“I-I-I am fine, I… Osvaldo?!” Pomni sat up at attention, looking across the hall.

Drexl moved like a charging steam engine towards Osvaldo, who whimpered and crouched to his knees, covering his head with his arms. Guests all around the room gasped and got to their feet, some shouting in protest. Ragatha stood before Drexl, clutching her necklace in a fist.

“Sir, I would ad-”

A huge palm lashed across her face, the Gray Sister yelping and falling to the floor.

“DARLING!” Gangle shrieked, kneeling at her side.

Drexl seized Osvaldo by the throat and pulled him up with alarming force.

“Father, no, please!” Boone cried.

Drexl ignored this and began to squeeze. Altonicus vaulted over his table and sprinted towards his younger brother, only to skid to a halt.

There was a sharp scrape of metal across metal as Drexl felt something cold press to the back of his neck. He turned and ceased all movement.

“You-!” Pomni could be heard saying.

The Gentleman in Red had crossed the room. Nobody had seen him walk, oddly. He was by the wedding cake, and then he was not. He’d withdrawn a rapier, as thin as a fencer’s foil, hidden in his cane, and pressed it to the back of Drexl’s head, directly on his brainstem.

“Sir,” The Gentleman said, as calmly as a constable might speak to one who had just tossed their sandwich paper onto the sidewalk. “Please allow your son down.”

Drexl Krolik snarled like an enraged wolverine, but did not move.

“Sir, again,” The Gentleman said. “I must ask you, allow your son down. I need only push a centimeter or two and you will cease to be. I do not wish to do this, and I am certain you do not either. Go on.”

Drexl’s pupils dilated from the slits that they had shrunken too. The Gentleman in Red looked at him sternly. Osvaldo fell from his father’s paws and scrambled backwards on his rear end. He crouched behind a table and was just about to curl up and weep when a hoof touched him on the shoulder.

“Sir, are you quite alright?” a deep voice asked.

The son of the deer family knelt at his side, honey-brown eyes shimmering with concern. Osvaldo did not reply with words, bursting into tears and covering his face with his paws. The deer rubbed his back and spoke softly.

“My name is Dawson. I loved your performance…”

The hall was silent apart from whispers and sobs. Drexl remained where he was, the rapier pressing against the back of his head. Vladimir rose to his feet.

“Mr. Krolik. In light of this new development, I will not be signing my daughter onto your firm. I will also be reconsidering my family’s donation to yours. You are no longer welcome at this reception. Good day.”

Drexl looked at Pomni, who had gotten to her feet. The look in his eyes could have poisoned an alpine stream. Pomni felt a lurch of fear in her belly that he might cross the room, grab her head with a single paw and tear it from her shoulders. The Gentleman in Red hopefully had quick reflexes…

Drexl turned to Zuzanna, thrusting a finger to the door. “Wyjeżdżamy.”

Zuzanna remained in her seat. Her normally sweet countenance was icy.

“Zuzanna! Właśnie teraz wychodzimy!”

“Obawiam się, że to trudne,” she replied.

A few of Jax’s cousins gave nervous input in Ediacaran. Zooble got to their feet, groaning with pain. Nothing was broken, but they were going to bruise terribly.

Drexl’s mouth twitched. He looked to Boone.

“Boone. Come along,” he ordered.

Boone slid his tooth back into its socket and looked his father in the face.

“Mother would hate who you’ve become. Go fuck yourself,” he replied.

There was a scattering of gasps from the guests. One indigo rabbitwoman flipped open her fan and rapidly waved it on her neck. Ragatha made a sound of disbelief as Gangle helped her into her chair.

Drexl balled his fists. He stared a moment longer before whirling about, stomping to the exit door and throwing it open hard enough so that it slammed against the outside wall with teeth-chattering force. The Gentleman in Red sheathed his rapier and rested both hands on his cane, observing the hullabaloo. He nodded to Vladimir.

“Delicious cake, Mr. Shutnyk,” he said.

Pomni put ice from the champagne bucket in one of the napkins, a blue one, and gave it to Zooble to help with their injury, doing the same for Ragatha, this time in a red one. She then strode over to Jax, who watched Drexl Krolik retreat into the distance before he closed the door.

“Are you alright?” she asked, holding his paw.

“I am alright. Are you? I’m sorry I didn’t catch you…” he said.

“Think nothing of it. You were helping your brother. I would like to go home. May I see those documents?”

Jax handed her the folder. She brought it to her parents, who were still gathering themselves off the floor. Jax went to

“Pomni, we had no idea that-” her mother began.

“Yes, I’m sure you didn’t. Do not worry about that now. Please review these documents, if you don’t mind.”

Vladimir opened the folder. Inside were about a half dozen penned documents. The handwriting was of such a neat and blocky quality that it could only be Pomni’s.

“And these are?” Vladimir asked.

“A few bits and bobs. Notice of intent to vacate, acceptance papers from the New Hirnantian Embassy in Ediacara, transfer of ownership for a piece of property… and a few letters of intent to pursue legal action should Jax and I not be given our dowry.”

Vladimir put on his spectacles and skimmed through the papers, then looked up, perplexed.

“You’re… giving the manor we’re gifting you away?” he asked.

“We can hardly take it with us to Ediacara, can we? Besides, Osvaldo would benefit from it more. He needs a place to live, after all. So he can live there along with whoever he chooses.” Pomni said.

“You’re moving to another country? But Pomni, why? Why would you do this..?” Mirella pleaded.

“Please don’t begin the crocodile tears, mother.” Pomni sighed. “Yes, we’re moving to Ediacara. Drexl Krolik’s offer may have been laughable, but I was quite intrigued by his mention that women can work there. There are other issues, assuredly, but at least I won’t be doomed to a life of domestic servitude as I would here.”

“But… Pomni, what about-” Vladimir began.

“I’ve told you before, father. Your firm interests me no longer. Although Jax and I love each other, I have not forgotten how betrayed I felt three weeks ago, as well as both of your complete and utter indifference towards my distress. That hurt almost as much as you going behind my back. It not only broke my heart, it showed me that I exist as a commodity to you, not as your daughter. If I hadn’t learned of Drexl’s vicious personality, I would be at his mercy and it would have been entirely your doing.”

Mirella burst into tears, earning a roll of the eyes from Pomni.

“Mother, really. That is not needed. Now, if you two are truly apologetic, you will give me my dowry and let me go. Perhaps then I will let you back into my life. If you attempt to skimp on my inheritance, then you will never see me again apart from in court. That’s all. I am going home to pack. Our boat leaves in a few days. I’ll see you later.”

Pomni turned and walked away. Vladimir watched his daughter go. She found her husband, pecked him surreptitiously on the cheek with a dry smile, and spoke a bit with her oldest brother-in-law and sister-in-law. He felt like screaming at her, demanding her return. But he did not say a word, simply hugging his weeping wife.

Secretly, he was impressed.

[t0bey]

“Reunion at Dawn”

happy 5th anniversary, three houses!!!

[luifaro]

playing that in stars and time game everyone's been talking about and idk why but i just don't trust loop like i can't shake the feeling that they have ulterior motives. i think it's just paranoia from flowey though this is like the second time some weird creature was able to remember everything despite time loop shenanigans and the first one i know of was definitely evil.

UPDATE: taking all the smiles i'm getting in the replies as a sign they ARE evil. thanks for the help gang!

[designernishiki]

it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

[apocalypticwafflekitten]

The Mermaid

Dhawan!Master x Fem!Reader

A/N: This started out as an archetype character study. And now, a year and three months later, its one of the best stories I've ever written, with some of the best smut I've put to the page. Oh how the turn tables. Vibes: Mermaids and Cassandra by Florence + the Machine, and Abstract (Psychopomp) and DeSelby (Part 2) by Hozier Also, I want to give a huge shout out to @insane-brit for beta reading this for me! She was the biggest support as I was writing this story and I can't thank her enough for her feedback!

Original Imagine/Summary Thingy: You and the Master are visiting a human colony far, far in the future. But there’s a species native to this planet which plagues the small ocean-front village. Mermaids they’re called. After the old Earth myths. When the villagers attempt to separate you and the Master, they realize all too late the mistake they've made. When a storm rolls in and and an eerie shape crawls up the shore, the village shuts it's doors and you and the Master must face the consequences of their actions. Will you and the Master reunite? Or will the Mermaids take a bite out of the old Timelord's hearts?

Warnings: 18+, No Minors, Explicit Sexual Content✨if you’re younger than 18 or have no age in your bio, I will not hesitate to block you.✨ Sexual Warnings: Porn With Plot, Sex + Telepathy = Needy Whiny Timelord, So Much Kissing, Dry Humping, Clothed Sex (sorta), Thigh Worship, Licking, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, So Much Praise, Switching/Undefined Power Dynamics, Eventually Service Dom Master, Fingering, Nipple Play, Unprotected PIV Sex, The Most Reverent Smut I’ve Ever Written, Post-Sex Cuddles Warnings Unrelated to Smut: imagery of drowning/character nearly drowning; storms, thunder and lightning; alien possession; blood/bloody imagery/mild gore; minor character death; the reader is described as having hair, though length isn’t specified; the reader is described with a certain eye color, but that’s the result of an *ehem* temporary condition and isn’t meant to be the reader’s real eye color; characters considering their death; pining; angst with a happy ending; this man is whipped for you. I think that's all, but let me know if anything else needs added!

Word Count: 17.1k

Masterlist!

His fingertips barely brushed yours. It was enough to feel your touch, but not enough to take hold of your hand before the village men dragged you out of his reach.

The Master’s hearts plummeted, adrenaline raged through his veins as he tried to run after you. He jolted hard to break the grip of his captors, but the village men held strong, keeping him in place as the others dragged you to the edge of a nearby cliff.

The Master cried out your name, still trying to pull himself free from the hands digging into his shoulders and sides. His hearts were racing, he couldn’t breathe, images of you falling into the sea played over and over and over again, jolting through his mind in a blind panic.

“Throw me over instead! Throw me to the Mermaids! Do anything you want with me! Just let her go!” He demanded of the villagers.

“Hush, heathen!” One of the men admonished, slapping the Master across the face. “The Mermaids are hungry and the woman is unimportant! You are all we need tonight!” The man approached the Master, his hot breath dragging across the timelord’s face, “And believe me alien, were it not for the request of our gods, you would both be over the cliff tonight! There is no place for your godless practice in this settlement!”

The villager’s face contorted with the deepest, most seething rage he could muster. His face reddened, eyes wild and mad, and his fists clenched white. And yet it paled in comparison to the budding fury searing hot across the Master’s face. This growing, heaving anger blooming in his chest would squash the villager’s life force like the tiny, insignificant insect it was.

But then he heard your voice, your scared, strained voice, crying out for him and it all died in an instant — his rage fizzling out until only concern remained.

The Master’s eyes snapped to you, but it was too late. He only got a glimpse of your terrified eyes before you were thrown over the cliff side, crying to the gray foaming ocean below.

“No!” The Master yelled, trying once more to pull himself to the edge. He managed to break the villagers’ hold on him for a second, budging a few inches closer to the cliff. He wanted to see you. He had to see you. Certainly you’d caught a rock on the cliff side, or you were able to hang onto the edge somehow. You just—you had to. You had to have survived. You couldn’t leave him. Not now. Not when—

–he heard the splash of your body landing in the cold waves below. He froze. His mind went blank and all the seaside fell silent. There was no more hungry wailing. No more pleas for help. Even the drums were quiet for a moment.

Pain shot up his knees when they hit the ground. The grass beneath him was cold and hard. The Master’s eyes were still fixed on the edge of the cliff as a massive, heaving weight settled in his hearts. Even the dusky sky, with all its cloudless stars, couldn't console him. The comfort he usually found in the endless night sky was hollow and empty as tears pooled in his eyes. He didn’t fight when the villagers started to drag him away, staining his billowing linen shirt with the dirt you’d been standing on. He just kept staring at the spot, hoping mindlessly, begging for you to reappear or for him to wake up from whatever nightmare this was.

But nothing happened.

And the only thing he felt was the gravel beneath his feet as the men dragged him away.

The water hit you hard. The cold cut through your clothes, your skin, your muscles, all the way down to the bone until you were sure you’d never move again. Your eyes burned in the saltwater. The sky was blurred beneath the waves. Even the brightest stars didn’t make it through the blinding waters.

You felt somewhere between life and death. The waving, lapping surface above slowly disappeared as you sank into the deep blue vignette below. You wanted to swim to the surface - every synapse fired, jolts of electricity begging you to reach out, to grasp at the water until you found air, but your limbs wouldn’t move. They hung at your side like lead, dragging you down toward the sea floor. The water was cold and pain screamed throughout your body and you just kept sinking.  

And sinking 

And sinking

Until something brushed against your leg, trailing behind it a melodic hum.

You jolted - your body awakened from its frozen stun. Your lungs burned and your body ached, but despite that, you fumbled with your floating linen dress to find the knife you’d strapped to your thigh. 

In a matter of moments, you were swarmed by ravenous, hungry beings — native aliens if you remembered what the Master had said. Their huge eyes shined shades of blue and silver in the shallow water, their gray bodies slim and gaunt with hunger. Their thick, long tails glittered when they got close enough to the surface and—

The Master!

What—what had happened to him? What did they do to him after you fell? You remembered hearing him cry your name as you fell, but after that, there was only the cold, wet sea. You didn’t know where he was. Your heart was racing, beating out of your chest as if trying to beat its way to the surface. You had to get back to him. You had to find him. You—

You jolted as a searing, stinging pain stabbed through your shoulder, waking you again from your panicked recollection. 

You shook your head and swung the dagger, slashing blindly at the aliens around you. The blade slashed something - one of their tails if you guessed - and a dark, thick substance bled into the water.  

The melodic humming wrenched into screeches, scraping dissonance in your ears. It hurt. You wanted to run away, far away, and never hear that awful screaming again. But the water was so thick and you were so tired and your shoulder hurt. The pain was still coursing down your arm, thick and burning in your blood.

The mermaids still swarmed, biding time to see if you were prey they could ravage for their hungry, bloody mouths to feast upon. They swam around you like a frenzied beast made of so many hungry, bloodthirsty things. They moved in some undulating shape surrounding you, growing ever closer, still screeching into the waters. 

You lashed out again, slashing what felt like one of their gray, lifeless faces with your small knife. For once, you were glad the Master had insisted you take some sort of defense with you. The thick, bloody substance was warm against your hand, distracting you from the wailing uproar.

With one last slash, the mermaids broke apart their frenzy and dove to the deep, leaving you to float among their blood. Perhaps they were too weak to fight for their food, or they saw you as too much of a danger to hunt. You didn’t care. 

Your shoulder burned, but at least it was keeping you awake. You did your best to right yourself in the ocean and tread the darkening water. The cold night air nearly took the breath from your lungs once you broke the surface, but that didn’t matter. You could see the shore. You weren’t too far off. You just had to make it to the sand, then you could rest. Then you could breathe. 

You tried to swim. Despite your shoulder and your aching muscles and the ever-biting cold, you tried, but with every move you felt that horrid pain seep through your blood again. It burned worse and worse with every movement until everything felt ablaze. Your throat, your fingertips, your ears, even your skin felt like it was seizing with white-hot pain. You did your best to stay awake, but by now you couldn’t move. You couldn’t even breathe. You only felt the raging, convulsing pain twitch through your body before you succumbed to it and the dark waves surrounding you.

The grainy sand was rough against your face.  

The sand?

When had you…?

You blinked. The breeze was cold. Icy waves stung your body as they rolled onto shore. You shivered as you tried to lift yourself off your stomach. Your whole body ached from…from what?  

The Mermaids. Right. You’d been thrown into the ocean and they swarmed you. You fought them off with a knife and then…

Your shoulder burned and you were quick to press your hand to it, trying to remember why it hurt so much.

Night had fallen since you blacked out, the jeweled sky winked and blinked down at you. The moon shone beautiful and alluring in the corner of your eye. It reminded you of someone.

Who…who was it? Who did it remind you of? It was right there on the tip of your tongue. He was your friend….Your best friend…someone you—

You felt something change - something tick, and suddenly, blooming hot across your chest was a seething, thundering, rage. 

And then the rain began to fall.

The villagers didn’t worry about the rain. They lived by the shore. Storms were common; even more so at this time of the year. 

But some who lived closer to the shore noticed a shape crawling its way up the sand towards the village. It pulled itself from the water like it was made of the water, dripping muddy sand and salt from its long, clawed fingertips.  

As the creature drew closer to the village, the more curious residents tried to get a better look, and those with a strong will to live drew themselves and their children back into their white, wooden, thatched houses.   

As the shape drew closer, those curious few noticed, as it stood, that its silhouette was vaguely human-shaped. It seemed like…but no, it couldn’t have been…but anyone who saw the shape approaching, they could tell you: it looked like a woman. Like a human woman. She wore a linen dress, stained by the ocean water and what looked like blood. Her floating gait dragged her up the shore, closer and closer to the cast-iron gateway that separated the village from the sea. But there was no way a person could come from the sea like that. This small village was the only human settlement for miles in any direction. Any islands off the coast were too far to swim from. This woman’s circumstance should be impossible. There was no feasible way unless… 

Some who were watching turned their eyes to the cliffs, then to the sea, then to her, and a shiver ran down their backs. The moonlight seemed to haunt the cliff side and gleam off the waters, and when it refracted off the sea, every beam of light seemed to point to her. Just steps away from the gate, she stepped into the full moonlight, bearing to anyone watching what happened when their ritual went wrong. The woman glowed in the cool light, and something petrifying, something terrifying seemed to roll off her with every rise of her chest, as though every breath she took was stolen from the lungs of those watching her. 

The whole village saw her. From their windows they watched her trudge through their home in some otherworldly, inhuman, alien fashion. Parents covered their children’s eyes for fear of her. Others shuttered their windows. Yet there was some beauty about her. Something alluring, tempting, despite the trail of blood down the back of her dress and the long claws overgrowing the ends of her fingers. Even as the rain muddled her shape and she stepped further and further up the hill, the villagers continued watching as though they couldn’t stop.

One villager, enchanted by her sublime beauty, did not hide as the others had. He stared from his front door as she walked up the cobble road to stand beneath the village’s arched gateway. Her skin was dappled with scales glinting silver in the moonlight. Frilled fins peeked through her wet hair, dripping a halo of droplets to her shoulders. She stopped beneath the archway, closing her eyes and turning her head to the bleak sky. She smelled the air, looking for something, or someone. After a second, after listening to the breeze, she seemed to find what she wanted, turning her head to the church at the end of the road, atop a hill.

The villager was drawn to her, and when he took a step down the stairs of his porch, the stairs creaked – a whining cry for the shining storm ahead.

Her eyes snapped to him, and the villager met the piercing, glowing color of cresting waves and sea foam. Her gaze was made of the sea - just as cold and empty and inhuman as the waters on the horizon. When she looked at him, lightning cracked across the sky, pinning him where he stood. 

He stumbled back up the steps and scrambled his way through the door of his home, trembling as his hand gripped the doorknob. Part of him longed to step back outside and run to her, but the fear with which she had bewitched him trembled in his heart and he settled on watching her through his window. He sent a prayer to his gods in the hope she might pass through their village and cause no harm. Or that the gods might smite her before she could ruin the ritual.

Either way, while she was here, in his line of sight, he would watch her shape disappear through the village, dripping saltwater and seaweed in her wake. He would admire her beauty, and dream of falling to her feet with the rain.The rain itself healed at the tips of her toes. A wall of it as far as the eye can see all falling in line with her every step. She was walking rage, making her way up the main road, prowling to the church like a funeral procession. Her glowing gaze cast only to the stark white steeple. To him.

There was a landing on the way up the hill; A small plaza decorated with white flower garland and a mosaic tiled floor. And on that plaza, there were guards meant to protect those in the church this night. They were little more than regular villagers with guns and spears. Still, they blocked the path to the stark, white building.

The flower garland was heavy, drooping under the weight of the rain, and still it drooped further. With every step she took, the rain fell harder, smattering against the mosaic floor in a sheet of palpable rage. Rainwater puddled in the grout, spilling up and over the tiles until it flooded the plaza. Roaring thunder made the ground tremble. Lightning wailed across the sky. Her eyes flashed silver upon her prey, breathing heavy like some feral creature, hunting, hungry, licking her teeth, yearning for the taste of sweet blood.

One guard, someone she recognized from before, came to stand in her way, blocking her path to the church. He raised his rifle, something threatening in his eyes despite his trembling hands.

“You will not pass us, girl! The ceremony must go uninterrupted! It is the will of our g—“

She ripped her claws through his soft belly, snarling as his eyes widened and slowly glazed over. His throat bubbled with a painful groan, and blood seeped from his lips before he slumped and fell off her claws to the wet mosaic floor. 

The rest of the guards were too scared to move. They stared as she tasted the warm blood from her claws and heard her pleased hum as a twisted smile curled onto her face.

One of the guards whispered, quiet as he could, to the other beside him while the creature was distracted, “This must be one of the mermaids come to shore. I’m sure of it.”

“No,” the other guard refuted, “This is the woman we threw over the cliff! The mermaids must have changed her.” 

“But how?” 

“I don’t know. Though, rumors say only a bite—“ 

Thunder cracked above them, lightning flashing as she pinned the guards with a wrathful glare, her claws licked nearly clean. Any other remaining guards had run off as soon as they snapped out of their shock, leaving these two to the woman. 

They looked to one another and backed away, turning and running and almost tripping over themselves to get away from her. They didn’t even look back to see if she was following them.

She wasn’t. She didn’t care about them. Instead, she wiped any remaining blood from her claws on the dead man’s coat and turned toward the church. Up the hill, she could see faint light shining through the windows and the warm glow from the lamps that hung just outside the front doors like beacons.  

She went to them. Her eyes never left the shuddering old door or the warm halo of light from the oil lamps as she stepped over grass and gravel to reach the church. The rain grew heavier and heavier - a near whiteout by the time she reached the worn, wooden doors. It pummeled her shoulders and thumped angrily against the church’s roof.

With a crack of thunder that shook the small building, she slammed the door open and lightning struck behind her, flashing the small chapel in white-hot light - her warning to all in the small room. 

Through the group of men who had turned to gawk, she saw him – someone…familiar. Someone she knew…someone she—

“We know not what you are, woman,” one of the villagers spat, “but you will not stop the ceremony! The gods have demanded he—“

Once again, she ripped through this villager’s belly, grabbing at his throat to watch him die before dropping his body to the ground.

Some men ran. The others died. She rent their bellies to ribbons, spilling blood from their throats, breaking delicate skin, biting with sharpened fangs, all until the villagers were motionless puddles of blood and viscera, their weapons strewn across the ground, glinting at her feet like seawater.

When all was still, she breathed in and let out a calm, relaxed breath, looking down at her blood-soaked hands and the smatterings on her dress. Rain still pattered on the roof.

A quiet voice called her name. Her name?…She’d forgotten she had a name.  

How do you forget a thing like that? 

She turned to find the voice’s owner tied to a post, shoved down to his knees on the dirty wooden floor. His pants were dusty and stained from the ground. He was looking at her. For a brief second, she smiled at the sight of him. She didn’t know why, so she shook the expression from her face. What was he doing to her? Why had she come for him in the first place?

She knew him. It bothered her. Something about him was familiar to her…somewhere, hidden deep within her, she knew he was important, but despite the feeling of familiarity that bloomed warm and soft when she met his charming, brown eyes, she didn’t know why. Some other part of her mind urged her to kill him like the others, but the only thing she could focus on was the red stain across the chest of his linen shirt. A stain she hadn’t caused.

He called out her name once more.

Her eyes snapped, piercing and unnatural, to his. His voice was honey-smooth and just the sound of it sent waves of calm across her body. With apprehension, she approached him, slowly stepping towards this familiar man. His eyes were wide, staring into her own with something like disbelief in them. Something pulled her to him. Something inside her. Something fond, and happy. Something like–

She couldn’t kill this man. Never him. 

She kneeled in front of him and reached one of her bloodied hands out to hold his face. With the other, she grazed his shirt’s bloody, torn fabric.  

She didn’t know why she reached out to hold this man. Her hands moved on their own. The skin she felt through the ripped linen was cold and cut, but the wound was warm - wet with spilled and still-spilling blood. He was still bleeding. She looked into his eyes for a moment more, then they drifted and followed the dried tear stains on his face down to the wound across his chest.

The Master shuddered. Your hands were cold, touching his skin in ways you never would. You were lifeless behind the glowing eyes that bore into his own - their unnatural shade so unlike your own. Every move you made was stiff, every time you blinked he felt a moment of relief. You were not you. He knew right away. And any time you looked at him, he felt a shiver of the cold ocean ripple down his back. And yet, he still felt the tiniest second of relief when you’d slammed open the church door. Not all was lost. At least not yet.

“Darling, what's happened to you?” He whispered once more, something fearful shaking in his voice. 

Without a word, she rounded the post and cut his ties.

The Master’s arms fell to his side and he took a second to stretch them, touching the burns the ropes had left behind. His eyes never left her though, and he noted the long, talon-like claws that you’d used to cut his ties.

You rounded the post again to face him and offered a bloodied hand to help him up.

He hesitated, but took your outstretched hand, standing as you turned and led him out the chapel door.

There was no other option, really. He never would have left you. Though he hesitated in taking your hand, there was no universe in which he didn’t. You were his companion and you’d been by his side through so much. Even now, you still came to get him. Even when you weren’t entirely yourself. Even when he’d failed you. 

It made him shiver - just the thought of it. He’d failed you. Not even the cold, needle-prick rain falling against his face could shake the thought from his mind. He had watched you fall over the cliff and done nothing to stop it. His mind replayed the splash over and over and over and over and— 

The blood on his face was still warm. It was an odd turn of thought, but a breeze kicked up and he felt the chill of it drying on his cheek. Your bloodied hands were an image he couldn’t get out of his head either. He remembered the faces of the men you’d killed - their surprise, their lifelessness. And with their faces came the same thought:  He’d failed you. Hell, he could hardly get you to carry more than a pocket knife with you - you weren’t a  killer. And yet, because of his failure, you had slaughtered those men in a fashion too similar to his own - all blood and guts and ribbons of unrecognizable flesh. Even now, as you guided him along the cobble path, down to the plaza, he could see the gutted body of another you’d killed and the bloody footsteps you left in your wake. For once, the sight of death and destruction made him nauseous.   

He had imagined dying here. Another odd turn of thought as he followed you down the hill. He would have let it happen. The villagers could have finished their ritual and his body would waste away to nothing under the sandy soil. In Time, even his bones would rot away and feed its ever-churning, ever-ravenous appetite. Or perhaps he would have rested with your body, in the sea - torn apart and eaten by the Mermaids. All in all, dying to the sound of the rain after all these years? It would be an okay way to go. And if you were gone, he was fine with dying. There wasn’t much of a point in traveling without you. You’d changed so much in his life, and all for the better. He was happier now. He saw new beauty in the universe. And you, by the stars, you, were like some sort of…beacon for him. Someone that reminded him what it was like to enjoy life again. You centered him. Grounded him. Even something as simple as your shoes at the TARDIS door were enough to calm him. He couldn’t bear it if you were gone. Those little reminders of your absence – your shoes, your sweater in the library, your favorite book. They would remind him how he failed you; how he never told you he loved you. He couldn’t face it again without you.

He shook away those thoughts. He had something to live for right in front of him. You’d saved him and he had to return the favor. You had smiled when you first saw him - when he said your name. It was just a tiny thing, but it was there for a fraction of a second. That meant you were still alive in there. You had to be. He knew that if you were still alive, you were fighting tooth and nail against whatever was in your head. He knew you wouldn’t give up, so he wouldn’t give up. And goddamnit, he would not fail you again.

The sound of a creaking porch pulled the Master from his thoughts. He felt the villagers’ eyes watching. He saw quick movements in his peripheral - people hastily shutting window blinds and slamming front doors shut. He saw recognition in their eyes. They were practically broadcasting their fear. You must have come this way before. 

He couldn’t help but wonder what the villagers thought of you. You weren’t a monster. You could never be a monster in the Master’s eyes. But all these people knew of you was what the Mermaid had wrought upon you. He was tempted by the thought of setting the place ablaze. It was the villagers’ fault that you ended up like this. Why not make them pay for what they’d done to you?

He knows why though. You would hate it. And then you’d give him that look that punches a hole through his hearts and he’d never be able to recover from that. 

So he had to find another way to make it up to you. 

But how?  

He considered for a moment whether you might remember something about it. He hadn’t considered asking you until now. You hadn’t said anything to him since finding him in the church. He didn’t even know if you could talk. But anything was worth a shot right now. He’d take any idea or scrap of information he could get.

So he asked you, squeezing your hand like he usually did when he wanted your attention.

“Darling?” 

You didn’t answer. You didn’t acknowledge that he’d said anything. You didn’t squeeze his hand back like you usually did. You just kept walking. The villagers, in their homes, kept staring through their peep-hole curtains, following the two of you with haunted, fearful eyes.

“Love, can you tell me what happened to you? Do you remember anything?” The Master pleaded.

Nothing once again. Just the sound of the ocean and your dress dragging along the pathway. The Master was beginning to wonder how much of you was left, or if there was anything left of you at all.

He could feel the tiniest sting of rage bloom in his chest. It urged him to fight – to kick, scream, and claw at you until he figured out what was wrong. He wanted to rip the mermaid from your mind and salvage what was left of you.  

But he never would. He could destroy civilizations, he’d burn this village to save you, but in the face of potentially hurting you, he deflated. Any thought of rage fizzled out and he was left with a heavy weighted sorrow lodged in his chest.

“Please darling.” As quiet as his voice was, there was no mistaking that the Master was pleading with you.  

At some point, a few steps beyond the white cast-iron gate, the Master stopped asking questions. He’d wait to see where you were leading him. He couldn’t take your silence. The weight of your hand, still holding his, was heavy enough.  

The tide was high, lapping hungrily at the sandy beach and the bitterly familiar cliff face on the shore. The rain had started to lighten up, but it still drizzled down onto the shore, still healing at your feet like a loyal dog. From where he was, just beyond the gate, stepping into the sand, the Master heard something from far off the shore. It drifted up into the air, harmonies building and mounting on one another as they glide across the breeze, right to the Master’s ears. The melody tempted him toward the water, bright, alluring,  hypnotic. 

And you were walking straight toward it, as if there was nothing in the world that could stop you.

The wind picked up, whipping your frilled fins and hair in every direction. The howling breeze grew stronger and stronger as the Mermaids’ song grew louder and louder. More harmonies, and a mounting dissonance clawing through the tone, and in a moment, the Master found the answer to all the questions he’d been asking.   

“They bit you.” He stopped dead in his tracks and didn’t move when you continued to pull on him. His voice was quiet. Beneath it though, at the sight of the puncture wounds and the red trail of blood down the back of your dress, was the same heating anger from before, urging him to loose his rage upon the alien inside of you. 

The Master quelled his bristling anger. This wasn’t the time. He had to focus on the problem at hand: you. You didn’t stop. You kept trying to pull him to the sea, uninterested in his observation or in stopping. 

You stared at the ocean with glazed eyes, listening to the mermaids’ harmonies. You couldn’t tear your eyes away if you wanted to, as if there was something magnetic in the alluring tones. You started walking again, and this time, the Master followed until you’d nearly reached the lapping tide.

“That’s not the direction of the TARDIS, love.” The Master whispered, pulling on your wrist to keep you from stepping into the sea.

Something about that clicks and you turn to him, slowly and hesitantly. The Master sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your face. 

Nearly your entire face is blank and emotionless. Nearly. It's your eyes that are different. Your strange, alien eyes are brimming with tears. They’re wide and scared and lined with the trails of tears already shed. The Master could see you in those eyes. They weren’t the right color. They weren’t human. But within them, beyond their seafoam color and unnatural glow, he saw  you. He saw fear, he saw fight, he saw the eyes of his companion, doing her best to fight for her life, even as she was trapped in her own mind.

You’re still alive.

The Master slowly approaches, testing the waters. He holds your face in one of his hands, the other coming to rest along your neck. When you don’t react, save for looking into his eyes with something deep and pleading, he lowers his head and touches his forehead to yours, releasing a  deep, shuddering breath before letting his hands slide from your cheeks to your temples.

In your head, he hears you crying out for help – your pleading voice screaming out for him to hear you.

“--Please! Please Master! I can't stop it! It's gonna drag me into the ocean! It’s going to turn me into a mermaid! I don’t want to become one of them! I wanna go back home to the TARDIS! I wanna go back home with you!!! Please Master! Save me!”  

The Master pulls away from you in shock - his hearts plummeting to the gritty sand.  Had you been screaming in your head like this the whole time? Guilt shot through his hearts and if it weren’t for his desperate need to protect you, he might’ve died on the spot. He presses his forehead to yours once more, fingers to your temples, and in a matter of seconds your sleeping body drops into his arms. The Master clutches your limp body close to his to keep you from falling to the sand as endless waves of relief and guilt and heartbreak flush through him. He kisses your forehead and as soon as he stands with you, he’s off like a shot, sprinting to his TARDIS as fast as his legs will carry him. Never mind the Mermaids’ melody turning to ravenous screeching. Never mind the village’s hunting party gathering together to avenge their dead. Never mind the painful whip of tree branches as he ran to the bordering forest. The Master had to save you, and nothing in all the universe could stop him. 

The first thing you notice is the weight of something cool in your hand. Cool and smooth. When your eyes crack open, the world is blurry and you can’t quite tell where you are. The room you’re in is warm. The ceiling is white.

And next to you is the Master, resting his head on your lap, his cool hand in yours. His usual purple jacket is thrown over his shoulders, barely hanging onto his back with how he’s lying now. He’s snoring softly, and he’s thrown an arm over your legs as if he’s protecting you. It’s odd to see him sleep. In all your time traveling with him, you’ve only ever known him to sleep when he absolutely had to, and never while you were traveling with him. Getting to see him look so peaceful is a treat - one you intend to savor.

You want to kiss him.

The thought comes out of nowhere, but you don’t deny it. It's been a tempting image for months now - the first thing on your mind for weeks. You’re not surprised that it pops into your head.

You shift, wincing at the soreness that weighs down your whole body. You notice that you’re no longer wearing your ruined linen dress. Instead, you are wearing your pajamas, and your personal pillow is supporting your head. Your head hurts a little and you hope that readjusting will help ease the pain. 

It doesn’t. All it does is shift the Master and jostle him awake. He startles a little and sits up, but the moment he lays eyes on you he relaxes and smiles, “Ah. There are those beautiful eyes. Back to normal, as they should be. How are you feeling?”

You struggle a little to sit up, pulling the blanket up with you as a comfort. You don’t fail to notice that although you’re in the med bay, you aren’t lying under the scratchy blankets that usually covered the beds here. Instead, the Master had brought your favorite blanket and draped it over you. Your favorite book was lying on the table beside your bed too, next to a book about the planet you had visited. You smile when you notice the Master’s sweet gesture. 

The moment sours a little though, when you try to think of why you were lying in the med bay. You shift a little, turning to look at the Master for answers. 

“I’m feeling alright, but what happened? I remember standing on the beach screaming in my head, and the next thing I know, I’m here, in the TARDIS med bay. What happened to me? What happened to the Mermaid?”   

The Master tenses, not sure how to explain in any casual way that he’d rushed you back to the TARDIS at inhuman speeds because he was afraid he was going to lose the only person in the universe he actually loved anymore. That was too much to explain right now, so he decided to stick with the facts. Taking his hand from yours, he started to wring his hands together, trying to figure out where to start.

“Well, after you saved me from the church, you uh—you blacked out on the beach and I brought you back to the TARDIS. The Mermaid was a more complicated affair. I had to reach inside your mind to get rid of it. It was a nasty fight, but it was well worth it. You’re you again, and you’re safe now.”

You nod once again, doing your best to connect what you remember to what the Master was telling you. 

“How long did it take?” 

“Hmm?”  

“Getting rid of the Mermaid? How long did it take? It feels like I slept for years.”  

The Master hesitates again. There was more weight behind that question than you could ever imagine. Of course, he would never mention how hard of a fight it had really been. He’d never tell you how he had gone blind with rage, burning the mermaid until its crisp ashes faded away from your neurons. He’d never tell you how delicate he’d had to be, or how fragile your mind was afterward. And he would certainly never tell you how scared he really was when he saw the extent of the mermaid’s attachment. He didn’t care how long it had taken, not noticing or caring about the hours he’d spent burning the Mermaid from your mind. He was determined to keep going until the Mermaid was gone, his own exhaustion be damned.

He also couldn’t begin to explain the fervency with which he’d tried to remind you of yourself. He brought in your blanket and pillow and read your favorite book to you – the whole thing, even the annotations and drawings you’d left in the margins. He spent hours telling you stories of your travels - the ones that hadn’t gone terribly wrong of course. He had done everything in his power to make sure you survived. He’d even sat beside your bed and outright begged you to remember who you were when you woke up. But he’d never be able to tell you that.

And yet, when you reach out and run your thumb under his eyes, no doubt soothing the heavy bags that were bound to be there, he had a feeling that somehow you knew. He didn’t have to say anything, and he could admit that right now he didn’t really want to. He just wanted to sit in this moment and bask in the warmth radiating from your hand and the comfort it brought to have you touch him.

After a moment though, the Master startles away from your touch. He had leaned too far into it, starting to lose himself in the feel of your hand on his face, and he very well might have kissed you if he hadn’t stopped himself. He stood quickly and stepped away to pace around the med bay. 

You were startled by his reaction, but nevertheless brought your hand back to your side and changed the subject. “Thank you for bringing my book and blanket. They make it more bearable in here. Do I need to stay in the med bay or am I good to leave?”

“No, you’re clear to leave, but you’re welcome to stay here until you feel comfortable getting up. The Mermaid was a force inside your head. And quite a powerful one at that. You might be dizzy for a little while, but that’s all. Any physical effects - your scales, fins, etc – dissolved while I was taking the Mermaid apart. It didn’t leave anything physical except for the bite wound, but I was able to heal that up. Your book and your blanket were meant to help kick you back into gear - remind you who you are and all that.”

A small smile crosses your face and your eyes light up a bit. “Does that mean you read to me while I was passed out?” 

The Master gave you a look. “Shut up.”  

Your smile shifts - far more mischievous now than before. “Never.”  

There you are. Back to teasing him and being a general pain in his ass. An endearing pain in his ass, but a pain in his ass nonetheless. 

The Master leaned against the counter opposite you, feeling a little bit better after seeing you return, for the most part, to your normal self.

“I will admit, seeing you let go, letting the rage inside you loose, getting to see you rip your enemies apart - that was something beautiful. Something awe-inspiring, really. I’ve seen stars collapse with less fury than was in your eyes. Truly inspiring.” The Master lied, hoping you wouldn’t notice, hoping he sounded like his normal self and not like he’d been horrified, worried beyond belief, and physically exhausted for hours on end. If you were back to normal, teasing and laughing at him, then he could play normal too. 

But of course that backfired, and it seemed you believed his lie a little too well. Your face fell, and then your brow quirked up.

“Then why did you change me back?”

His reply is instant.

“Because you asked me to. I would do anything you asked me to do.” 

The Master pauses - it only takes a second to realize what he had said. Your wide eyes suggest you are doing the same. He hadn’t thought before he spoke and the words fell from his mouth before he could stop them. For a moment, the Master had let his hearts do the talking for him.

He takes a deep breath.

“I would have changed you back regardless. That thing - the Mermaid that was possessing you - wasn’t you. I’d rather travel with you and all your boring human morals than watch some alien walk off to destroy worlds with your body. I never would have let that thing take you. Really I should go back and kill the lot of them. Every last one of those things should die a slow, painful, death, drying out in the dead grass above them for what they did to you.” He was offended that you’d so much as considered him leaving you to the Mermaid’s whims.

You just look at him for a moment before uttering a quiet “Thank you.”   

The Master nods, a sincere look glinting in his eye before he lets the matter rest. There is silence for a moment. A heavy silence. You play with a loose thread on the blanket’s stitching, and the Master watches you. Despite answering your questions, the Master felt like there was still something left unsaid. The room is still tense and you seem lost in thought. 

There’s something you have been avoiding, he could tell. Something is lingering in your mind and he figures he knows what it is. The Master steps towards you, stopping beside your bed. You still don’t look up at him. He sits in his chair and takes your hands in his.

“Darling, how much do you remember?” The Master asks, taking a tentative step to understanding your experience in all this. 

You hesitate before answering and find yourself unable to meet the Master’s eyes.

“All of it.” You pause, swallowing nervously. “I killed people.”

The Master hears the guilt heavy in your voice and completely abandons his chair, shifting to sit next to you on your bed, squeezing your hands tighter than before.

“No, No. Remember Love, that wasn’t you. The Mermaid was using you. Feeding on any little emotion that would give it an excuse to kill. It took your wants, your anger, and twisted it for its own. It was hungry and it used your body to hunt.” 

You’re quiet, stewing in guilt for another short moment. You gnaw on the inside of your lip and  stare at the Master’s hand holding yours. 

“I remember wanting them gone - the villagers and the guards.” Your voice cuts through the silence, something heavy weighing in your tone.

The Master’s eyes bore into you, “Why?” 

You finally look up and let your eyes meet his.

“They were blocking the path to you.”  

A beat passed. Time slowed, or maybe it stopped altogether. The Master’s eyes lock with yours and you’re not sure what you see swirling in them.

And then before you know it, he’s kissing you. Full body, hands cradling your face, pressing as much of himself against you as he can kissing you. His lips almost bruise yours, you can’t kiss back for a few seconds he comes on so hard —

— but he pulls away for a second, breathes heavily, and stares at you. There’s a millisecond between you – only the sound of your heaving breaths in the air. You look at him and give a small nod and he dives for you, leaning over the bed, ramming your back into the sheets, all but climbing on top of you. You kiss him with the same fervor as he had before, hands slipping to his back to pull him even closer until you can feel his body against every part of yours. His hands pull at your waist and rake up your sides and he shivers when you moan against his lips. His whole body can feel it rumbling, his mind can feel it, it’s stronger than the drums and he’s addicted. He needs to feel it again. 

His kisses slip from your lips down your cheek to the column of your neck. They’re sloppy and desperate, penning his ages of yearning along your skin. The hitches in your breath are like prayers to an old god and he’s reveling in the worship. Your hands in his hair fire pleasure down his spine and it curls hot in his stomach. He grows more and more desperate, more and more ravenous as he kisses you faster and faster, making his way back to your lips like a man starved. He cradles your head in his hands and pulls away with a low growl.

“Darling.“ He pants hard, resting his head in the crook of your neck. He feels you catch your breath, the thump of your one heartbeat echoing in his ear again. Your breathing becomes smooth, steady, and it soothes something within the Master.

You start to leave little kisses in his hair and a couple on the shell of his ear and he feels like melting right into your lap. You’re so soft with him in this moment. He nuzzles into your neck and wraps his hands around your waist. The Master stays there for a minute, content to let you press soft kisses to his hair and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. 

Eventually, though, he has an idea. You know he does because his head whips up fast and he looks you dead in the eye. There’s something soft in his eyes though, and his gaze warms as it settles on you. He brings his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and gently nuzzling his nose against yours, “Let me in?”  

It’s a question, not a demand, whispered to the vulnerable space between you.  

“I know you’ve been through a lot lately. The Mermaid was in your head, and then I dug around in your mind for hours. It's okay if you don’t want to let me in.” His voice is the gentlest whisper, and he leaves the gentlest kiss on the corner of your mouth. 

You don’t answer with words, but he can feel you opening your mind. He’s flooded with a wall of hot, heady lust at first, but it ebbs into something gentle and soft and so, so warm. He felt safe - your safety, and your confidence in him to keep you safe. He feels the way your heart tugs you toward him at every moment, and there’s a heavy, weighty, yearning want that curls around him and settles in his hearts. The wave of it crashes over him and he has to pull away for a second, the force of it overwhelming his senses. He leans his head on your shoulder once more, biting the skin there to keep from whimpering. Even then, he still lets a quiet whine slip through his teeth as he shudders against you. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, leaning down to look him in the eye. You can’t remember another time you’ve seen the Master like this. He looks at you, transfixed in your eyes for a moment before responding.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s…it’s just…,” He pauses, looking off to the side like something long past is lingering in the corner of his eye. After a moment, he meets your eyes again and his voice shudders a small bit, “I-I can’t remember the last time someone  wanted me like this.”  

You give him the kind of look that would normally annoy him. There’s something pitiful and sympathetic in your bright eyes, and he can feel your oncoming heartache. Heartache for him. For the years he spent alone. For every moment he spent trying to show someone he was worth the effort. That look was one he would generally turn away from, but in this moment with you, he didn’t say anything. He just fell further into your arms and pressed his forehead to yours again, yearning to feel your mind wash over him again.

“Oh, Master.” You whisper in the crack of space between you before cradling his face and bringing your lips to his again.  

Your kiss is warm and comforting, encompassing the Master in a feeling that’s entirely you. He felt your warmth and the absence of it between kisses, and realized he never wanted to be without it. It drew him in, roped and tied his soul to yours, and he never wanted to be free of it. He clung to you. His kisses grew frenzied, frantic as his hands grappled at every curve of your body, trying to pull you closer, closer, closer to him. You couldn’t be close enough, he could never pull you close enough.    

Your mind tingled on the edge of his, sending shivers through him. For a second he’d forgotten you had let him in, and now you were pushing yourself against him in the most intimate of ways.

He could hardly describe the soft way your mind flooded into his own, caressing every corner, passing every locked door, loving every winding turn– 

Loving?

You loved him?

He could feel it in your mind – that strong, gentle pull. He could feel it when you embraced the parts of his mind he bared to you, and when you passed by the things he hid without a word. He could feel it in the way your hands held him, the way they drifted over his body and touched him with reverence. He could feel it in the little moans you made when he kissed you, like a dam of yearning, of pining, being released between the two of you. It sent jolts of electricity down his body and straight between his legs.

It was all too much for him.

“I love you.” The Master all but sobs into your ear, “I love you. I love you. I love you. By the stars, Darling, I love you.”  

“I love you too, Master – love you so much.” You whimper into his neck, biting down on the skin there to ground yourself. 

The Master groans, climbing on top of you, pinning your body further to the bed. He kicks his shoes to the floor and pushes your blanket aside so that no part of you is hidden from him. He presses his body against you and you can’t help but moan when you feel his hard cock pressing against your hips, lightly grinding, begging for some sort of friction between you.

“Darling, you have no idea what that does to me.” The Master’s voice is ragged, his breathing heavy as he drags his cock against your hips rougher than he had before, “You can’t just bite a man like that.”

“What if I want to find out what it does to you?” 

The Master pauses all movement for a moment and meets your heavy, half-lidded eyes. He feels his whole body warm at your implication, the temptation in your eyes pulling him closer and closer to you.

“You're sure you want that love?” He whispers against your lips.

You nod enthusiastically, wrapping your arms around the Master’s neck to pull him closer to you. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Master.”

He shudders at the way you say his name, then nods, pulling himself off of you before helping you sit up.

“C’mere,” The Master picks you up off the medbay bed and wraps your legs around his waist, “Let’s take this somewhere more appropriate.” 

The Master had every intent of taking you straight to his bed and ravishing you on the deep purple sheets, but as he passed through the console room, he saw the briefest image flicker up from your mind. It was a positively wicked idea, and he loved it. He felt the wave of lust that bloomed through you as the image appeared and, with a grin, he changed directions.

“Master? Aren’t we going to your room? What are you doing?” You ask, pulling away from his lips as he sets you on the center console.

“What you want.”  

He leans close, kissing you again before pressing his hips to yours. His hands wander as they please and it’s only after a few moments that you feel the Master softly grinding against you. You pull away from his lips with a small gasp. 

“H-How did you–”   

“I can see it in your head dear. I could feel how much you wanted it.” The Master smiled, shifting you so you’re comfy on the console. “Why not treat you? Who am I to deny you?”

And there he was. The Master. Your cocky, confident, tease of a traveling companion. He smirked at you, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. His breath fans across your skin, and he’s delighted by the little shiver that shudders through you. 

“Do you like that love? Hm? Feeling me? Feeling what you do to me – what you’ve done to me for months aboard this ship?” He kisses you again, groaning against your lips with every new kiss. He grinds his hips against yours and you revel in the feeling of his cock, heavy between your legs. “Do you have any idea how many fucking times I had to fuck my hand and pretend it was you? You lean over the console and I can’t think! You hug me and there’s this stupid warmth that blooms from my gut to my hearts and I just want to kiss your face—Fuck, I can feel how much you want me…Is this why you haven’t let me in before? Afraid I’d see all these secrets you’ve been keeping from me?” 

The Master’s questions didn’t even process. You were too lost in the feeling of his body against you, the way he grinds himself against your cunt, the way he makes you melt into the console, letting yourself feel the waves of arousal from both your minds wash over you - tingling every one of your nerves until all you felt was sweet, sweet pleasure coursing over every part of you. 

Until that pleasure stops, and you feel the Master’s cool breath against your ear.

“I need an answer dear.” 

Your eyes widen and you pull back to look at him, surprise written clear on your face. He’s got a stupid, smug look on his face and you hate how much it turns you on. 

You keep staring for a second. You can’t make yourself speak, so caught off guard by the loss of sensation and the frustration that follows that words are impossible. So instead, you claw at the Master’s shoulder and tug him back against you, locking him in place with your legs around his hips. He lets out a surprised sound, catching himself on the console.  

You all but growl, fisting a handful of the Master’s hair to pull him up to look at you. You delight in the moan that tumbles from his lips and pull him close to you so you can growl in his ear.

“I want you. Now.” You demand. You tighten your legs around him and start to grind yourself against him on your own, his plans be damned. 

The Master breathes hard - a laugh breaking through as he catches his breath. Tipping your chin up with a finger, he looks at you with such hunger, “Oh Love, I didn’t think I could be any more attracted to you, but look at what you’ve done to me…how can one person be so, damn, enticing?”

Each word came with short, heavy thrusts against your sex. The Master was starting to breathe heavier and heavier, and with every drag against your clothes, he felt himself melting further against you. He felt heavy with the way he yearned for you; the warmth between your legs lured him closer and closer to you until nearly all of his body was pressed against yours. Every movement, every thrust, every touch of your skin against his sent sweet pleasure tumbling through his body, begging for more, more, more. And he lost himself in you. Nothing mattered in this moment besides the bliss that bloomed through him every time he dragged himself against you. His body sang for you, and you sang back in sweet, dulcet whimpers against his neck, your fingers digging into his sides, pulling him ever-closer until he was barely standing anymore.  

It’s not long before his weight is leaned on you almost entirely. His eyes close, his head falls to your shoulder, and the Master moans- a deep, yearning thing – before whimpering into your ear, “You’re so warm, Love. So so warm.” 

You can’t even think about replying. The cool touch of his lips against your neck, and the warm, fuzzy pleasure between your legs leaves you feeling brainless. And with every wave of arousal through your mind, the Master lets out moans and whines that grow more and more pitiful as he continues to grind against you. His noises are irresistible. Your body is all but limp against the console and the only thing that grounds you to the world is the feeling of the Master’s hair in your hands. 

Your mind is intoxicating. The Master can’t tell where he ends and you begin anymore. Everything is so blurred and connected and warm and soft. You are soft, and he wants to stay here forever, melting into your body, feeling your kisses against his neck, until the only feeling he knows anymore is you. 

It’s not enough though. He can feel you yearning for more even if you aren’t saying it. He feels the sharp want for more on the edges of your mind and the Master growls. It isn’t enough.

You gasp when the pleasure stops again, whining as you feel the Master’s hair slip from your grasp. You’re going to protest until you hear a thump on the floor and a blinding, beautiful, tingling sensation races from your clit to the tips of your limbs.

The Master drops to his knees, knocking himself against your own knees as he scrambles to shove himself between your legs. He nuzzles his nose against your cunt, and drags his tongue flat against the fabric of your sleep shorts, digging his nails into the skin of your thighs. The feeling of his wet tongue through the fabric is like heaven. Finally getting direct attention to your clit after all this build-up is like breaking a dam inside of you and you’re greedy, keening, back arching off the console to press your weeping cunt harder against his face. 

The Master groans, clawing at your sleep shorts as he continues laving his tongue over them. He’s starving for you and anything he can get he’ll take with greedy abandon. He’s waited so long; he  needs to worship you, needs to taste you, needs to please you, and his impatience is getting the better of him. 

He leaves your pussy for only a moment to rip your shorts from your body, dragging your underwear away with them and throwing them somewhere behind him. 

His first thought was to dive right back into your waiting, weeping pussy, but he had just enough clarity left to wait and play with you.  

He instead takes hold of your calf, gingerly lifting your leg so he could place a kiss on your knee. Then another. Then he licked a stripe up the side of your thigh, delighting in the surprised gasp that flew from your lips.  

He did it again and again, dragging his tongue up and down your thigh until the skin was wet and you were squirming above him.

Your hand in his hair pulls him from his worship, distracting him with your half-lidded, pleading eyes.

“Please Master.” You whine, tightening your grip on his hair. 

“Please what, dear?” He responds with a renewed air of mischief in his voice.

You couldn’t answer, unable to find words for what you want. You whine at him, hoping he would get the idea. Instead, he gives you a devilish smile and a downright cruel look in his eye.

“I’m not sure what that means darling.” 

Before you can reply the Master leans down to your other knee, giving it the same attention he had given your first thigh, dragging his face up and up, leaving kisses and licking stripes until the skin was slick and wet. 

You whine again, keening, in hopes that the Master will have mercy on you and give you what you want. You know he knows and it’s frustrating you to no end that he won’t just give in and give it to you. 

Instead, the Master laughs and bites down on the meat of your thigh, leaving an imprint of his teeth in the soft flesh. Your sharp yelp sends a shockwave of pleasure through his body right down to his aching cock.

“I need you to use words, love. I don’t know what you want unless you use your words.” He rasped against the skin of your thigh.

You groaned, “Touch me.” 

“What? Like this?” The Master brought his hand up to your sopping pussy and ran his fingers through your folds, dragging them ever so slowly from your hole to your clit. 

You shook your head, meeting his eyes with something desperate and feral. 

The Master, however, remains infuriatingly calm, toying with you with such ease it makes you want to slap that cruel smile right off his face. 

“What is it you want dear?” 

You huffed, frustration fuming from your lips.

“Your mouth. Use your mouth.” You beg, finally voicing your desire to the Master. 

He grins, dragging his hand away from your pussy, turning to soothe his bite mark with his tongue. 

“See, wasn’t that easy love?” 

The Master places a delicate kiss on your clit before ravaging your pussy, licking and lapping like he had been when your shorts were still on.  

You gasp, heaving in a breath as the Master drags his wet tongue through your folds. You’re so sensitive after all his teasing that you tremble at even the lightest touch. The feeling of his cool tongue between your thighs is overwhelming, drawing coils in your guts and dragging you closer and closer to the edge.  

The cherry on top of it all comes when you look down through hazy half-lidded eyes. The Master’s eyes are closed, his hands grasping the meat of your thighs like they’re a lifeline. He’s razor-focused on memorizing the taste of you. You can feel his focus in your mind, and the slow way it melts into nothing but sweet pleasure. The feeling bleeds between your minds and for a moment it feels like a hazy high - your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your head falling back against the console as the Master fucks you with his tongue. Moans tumble from your mouth as he builds a steady rhythm, and you can feel the Master preening from your praising noises. 

But then you hear the Master whine into your pussy and a new, stronger wave of pleasure overtakes you. It washes through you over and over again; pleasure mounting on pleasure until the feeling is nearly unbearable.  

You crack your eyes open to take a peek and what you see sends a hot flood of arousal through you.

The Master had slipped one of his hands between his legs and was now furiously grinding his weeping cock against the heel of his palm. He all but melts into his own hand, his moans rumbling through you, his tongue pushing further into you than ever before. Through the connection you could feel his own pleasure growing - the same coiling heat in his body that you felt in yours.

“Master.” You call out breathlessly.

The Master kept lapping at you. Your arousal flickers through the connection, flooding his mind in a tidal wave and he can’t stop himself. He needs more.

“Master, dear.”  You call again.

The Master’s moans slip into whines, his hips roll hard into his hand. His whole body is tensing, wrapped and tied in the bliss he feels from the both of you. It builds and builds until he’s right there on the edge, his body begging for sweet release. Just a few more strokes and—

“Master.”

Your voice cuts through his haze and it takes every ounce of self-control the Master has ever had to stop.

“Yes love?” His answer is a ragged moan, betraying his displeasure as he pulls away from your pussy. His face is sopping wet and his eyes are heavy-lidded.

You smile at the sight of him and his fucked-out eyes.

“Are you gonna make it to the bed dear?” You whisper in his ear, a husky, sultry rasp edging the low tones of your voice. 

The Master breathes heavily and considers your question for a moment.

“Fuck.”  

He stands and yanks you up off the console, onto his hips and rushes down the hall, carrying you through the twisting, winding halls to his bedroom.

The Master’s room was elusive. In all your time on the TARDIS, you’d found a library, a swimming pool, a billiards hall, an observatory, and countless other unique rooms, but you’d never stumbled upon the Master’s room. Naturally, you were curious, and to tell the truth, you’d gone looking for the room a few times before, but by now you figured that the room was hidden in some deep, far-away corner of the TARDIS, never to be found by simple exploration.

Which is why it came as such a surprise to you how fast the Master found his room and threw open the door. Not even a minute after hoisting you onto his hips, the Master dashes into his room, closes the door, and slams you against it. You barely get a second to see the room over his shoulder before his lips are on yours, kissing you with new fervor.  

“You’ve got me weak in the knees darling. I can barely stand.” The Master mumbles against your throat as he plots fevered kisses down your neck.  

“Maybe we should move to the bed then, dear. Get you off your feet.” You gasp out through a moan. 

“Mmmmm I like that idea.” 

Without giving you time to think, the Master pulls you off the door and throws you onto his bed. Literally throws you. The little ‘oof’ you let out as you land makes him laugh a little. 

But in the space of a second, in the movement, you were no longer in the warm, safe confines of the Master’s oversized bed. Instead, you were landing in the ocean. Your back stings. Pain shoots through you to every nerve end and in an instant, you’re shivering. Freezing. You don’t dare move until you see movement in the corner of your eye. It takes a moment for your vision to focus, but once it does you see the Master hovering over you, calling your name. His hands hold your face, delicate and centering. The purple drapes above his bed remind you of where you are, and you’re finally able to take a deep breath.

You shake your head and come back to reality, putting on a smile to brush off the whole episode. “Sorry, I just…landing on my back–it reminded me of landing in the ocean and the Mermaid, and I just…” 

The Master can feel the fear rushing through you as your sentence fades off. It’s bolting behind your eyes even if you say you’re okay. Without a second thought, the Master pulls you to his chest and cradles you in his arms. His breathing is a bit heavier, and his arms are tight around you. When he speaks, it’s a whisper in the shell of your ear - something fervent and sincere.

“Never again. Never again, love. I promise I’ll keep you safe. You’ll never have to feel that scared again.”

You nod into his shoulder, letting yourself curl into him for a moment. The comfort of his arms does wonders to ground you and bring you fully back into the present. As he holds you, he nuzzles his nose against your neck and softly kneads your body’s curves. He breathes against your skin for a moment, enjoying the feel of you in his arms. 

After a moment, he pulls back to look at you.

“We can stop for tonight if you want. We can rest. I’ll watch over you while you sleep.” 

“No. I want this. I want you.” You insist, fiddling with a corner of his shirt collar. “I just needed a second. Please keep kissing me.” 

He nods with a warm smile. “As you wish, love.”

As the Master kisses you, your hands wander from the back of his neck down to the buttons of his clean shirt. You fiddle with a button and eventually get it undone, letting your fingers slip just under his shirt to feel his cool skin. You’re rewarded with a stunted breath and the Master’s hands gripping your body tighter against him. 

You slowly work at the buttons until his shirt is completely undone, hanging off his shoulders, framing his chest in a way that tempts your hands to roam across the new expanse of skin. But as your hands wander, you pause, pulling away from the Master with furrowed brows.

“You had a cut on your chest. I remember, in the church; I could feel the blood on your shirt. I saw the cut.” 

The Master takes your hand in his and presses it to his chest right over the place he had been cut.

“It’s okay love. I used the same medicine to heal this wound that I used to heal your bite. Fixed me right up. I’m okay. I promise.”  

You nod, taking a minute to admire the Master’s chest while you have the chance. And damn, the medicine worked. There wasn’t any trace of the cut. No scars, no lumps, no faint line to trace. Just his smooth skin, glowing under the room’s warm lamplight. Instead, you trace the lines of his muscles, from his pecs up to his collarbones, over to his shoulders to push his shirt off his back. 

“Like what you see there, love?” The Master coos, shrugging his shirt the rest of the way off. 

“Mmhm.” You hum, leaning forward to kiss along the Master’s collarbone, “I’m excited to see the rest.” 

The Master doesn’t get the chance to respond. Try as he might, the light laugh in his throat dies when he feels your fingers slip beneath the waistline of his pants. 

“Can I see the rest?” You ask in the small space between you.

The Master swallows hard. For once he’s at a loss for words. He’s too preoccupied by the tingling sensation left in your fingers’ wake to speak. He nods and suppresses a shudder.  

His eyes close as you continue to kiss his collarbones. He basks in the feeling of your soft lips peppering kisses from his shoulder up to his neck, and he startles a little when he feels your warm, wet tongue lick a stripe up his neck. You seem to pay no mind, contentedly kissing him and licking him.  

He tracks the movement of your hand, lazy though it is, as you slip further into his pants. Curiosity teeters in your mind as you wonder just how far you can go and, as you place a kiss just under the curve of the Master’s jaw, your hand slips below his pants to cup his cock through his boxers. The Master lights up with pleasure, and the noise he lets out as you grind the heel of your palm against his cock is decadent. You look up at him for a moment, admiring the way his face scrunches up as if he’s overwhelmed by the feeling. You watch him for a moment, appreciating how beautiful he looks before a sinister idea pops into your head. 

The Master feels you shift, turning yourself and him so you can lay him down against the countless pillows at the head of his bed with nothing but a gentle push to his chest. You pull your hand from his bulge and begin to wrestle with his boxers’ elastic waistband. His body jolts when a rush of cool air meets his skin, and his body tingles as you pull his cock from his boxers. It springs free and all that aching pressure from before releases like a deep breath. The cool air in his room is a nice wake up call, but what really gets him going is the look in your eye as your gaze settles on him.

“Darling, what are you—“

“—You’re so pretty…” you trail off in hypnotic admiration, dipping your head to kiss the soft tip of his cock, giving him a little suckle. 

The Master keens. He outright whines and fists his sheets in his hands as you continue to kiss and suck at his tip. Feeling adventurous, you take his head into your mouth, dragging your tongue slowly over his slit. 

And this is the day you learn that the Master, at least this version, can’t keep quiet when your mouth is on him. The moment your tongue traces his slit he moans, and he moans loud. He’s a mess of whines and whimpers and delectable throaty noises. You’ve completely disassembled him and left only the malleable, vulnerable parts of him on this bed. All with a couple licks of your tongue. 

But there’s something at the edge of the Master’s mind that keeps him from falling into the dreamlike haze he’s so close to. Something that’s been on the edge of his mind since he threw you on the bed. Something that’s eating away at him from the inside out. 

You almost died.  

There’s a slight tremor in your arms as you’re holding yourself above him. You’re exerting more effort to do so than you should, and in that instant, any trace of a haze snaps away and the Master resolves to himself that he’s going to take care of you tonight. After everything you’ve been through, it’s the least you deserve.

The Master reaches a hand down to your shoulder, gently squeezing to grab your attention. You pull off his cock with a questioning look. 

“Darling, as much as I love feeling your lips around me, you need rest, and I can’t wait to fuck you. Save that for another night. Come up here and kiss me.”

You have half a mind to protest and insist that you’re fine, but your muscles are aching and you know your body is tired even if your mind is racing, so you place one final kiss on the Master’s cock before crawling up his body. 

When you’re level with the Master you nuzzle your nose against his.

“Hi.” You smile.

“Hi.” He smiles back.

You let out a chuckle and dip your head down to kiss him. Your free hand tangles itself in his hair and his hands roam your back and sides. He takes a mental note of the spot you flinched at - seems he’s found a ticklish spot. Could be useful in the future. 

You, on the other hand, are fighting the urge to jolt away from the Master’s ticklish touch while trying to admire the man - the alien - beneath you. You still can’t believe that you’re here, in bed with an impossible man who just so happened to tolerate you out of everyone on earth. After so many months of yearning, you’re here. Spiced honey and the smell of cloves drift up to your nose and you feel the Master breathing beneath you. It’s almost too much for you to take, so you lean forward and slam your lips to his.  

He makes a surprised noise but quickly falls into the kiss, letting your flood of emotion rush through your connection. He moans as the feeling wades through his mind and sends aching want through every muscle in his body. 

The feeling deepens when you drag your tongue along his bottom lip and nip a little at the wet skin. He keens and opens his mouth, reaching out to meet yours. You gasp the moment your tongues meet and for what feels like ages, it’s a dance of your tongues licking into each other's mouths - kissing and sucking and little bites on one another’s lips, all the while your calming weight rests on the Master’s hips and his hands rest on your sides and the both of you are lost in the feel of one another as it flows through your mental connection. 

You’re the one to break off first. You take deep, heaving breaths and you close your eyes for a moment, just trying to focus on getting air back in your lungs. When you open your eyes, you see the Master watching you. He looks at you like you’re the last star left burning in the universe. 

And for another moment you sit like that. You catch your breath and the Master plays with the hem of your sleepshirt.

“Love?” 

“Hmm?” You recognize the gleam of an idea in his eye.

“Let's get this shirt off of you.”

You nod with a smile, holding your arms up so the Master could drag your shirt over your head and off your arms. He throws it to the side and helps you out of your bra, adding that to the pile of clothes at the end of the bed. 

When you’re finally undressed, the Master lets his hand rest on your hip and rubs his thumb in soothing circles. He takes in your naked body and admires the sight before him. He drinks in the sight of your skin in the warm light and the way the gold reflects in the color of your eyes.

“You’re beautiful love.”

You feel your cheeks warm and there’s something about the way the Master looks at you that floods molten heat between your legs. 

You lean back down to kiss him - feel his cock twitch against your ass when your lips meet and you let that molten heat between your legs do the thinking for you. 

You start to grind your hips against him, slowly inching back until you’re grinding against his cock.  

You start to get lost in the feeling, letting go of your inhibitions to focus solely on your pleasure and the Master’s, but just as you’re starting to fall into a haze, the Master’s voice reels you back to reality.

“Darling?” 

“Hmm?”

“Guess what?”

“What?” You’re genuinely confused - completely clueless at the edge of your haze.

But soon you’re letting out a surprised yelp as the Master rolls, flipping you under him with a joyful laugh. The sound of your laugh rings through the room soon after, and the Master swears he’s never heard anything so beautiful. 

“I guess I should have seen that coming.” You say, adjusting to be a little more comfortable under the Master. 

“Probably, but you’ve had a long day, so I’ll let it slide.” 

You both chuckle a little and the Master leans back down to kiss you. He’s sweet and soft and there’s no place in the universe more comfortable than this.

As the Master kisses you, he sneaks a hand down his body and starts to work his pants down his legs, taking his boxers with them as he goes. 

“Won’t be needing these now will I?” 

“Certainly not.” You reply with a light laugh.

His pants and underwear end up in the pile at the end of the bed, and when he climbs back up to you, he’s caught off guard by the look you’re giving him. It’s warm and happy. You’re admiring him.

The Master hovers over you and watches as your eyes and hand trail over his chest and abdomen, “You look so pretty,” you whisper up to him, “Where have you been hiding all this, hmm?”

There’s a sharp inhale and the Master feels something deep within him ache. Something good. Something long neglected. And like letting go of the deepest breath, his next words flowed from him.

“Oh darling, I love you.” 

The Master presses his body against yours as he comes down for a searing kiss, nearly losing himself in the comfort of feeling his skin on yours; in the ambient heat that radiates from you. It doesn’t last long though, as the Master quickly refocuses on his goal - nay, his job - this evening: making you cum. He pulls away from you, running his nails along your scalp and delighting in the happy noise you make.

“It’s about time you got your reward huh, love?” The Master prompts.

“My reward?” .

“Mhm.” His nails continue to rake across your scalp. 

“What for?” 

“Oh you know,” he starts, feigning nonchalance. “surviving a freezing cold ocean and an alien possession, saving my life, being the most beautiful woman in the universe. Seems deserving of a reward to me, don’t you think?”

You look surprised for a moment, but eventually agree, a bashful warmth heating your cheeks as hot arousal floods your pussy again. “I’d like that.” 

“A reward it is then.” The Master smiles. 

He wastes no time shuffling down the bed until he’s between your legs. He lets his hands glide over the tops of your thighs before gently coaxing your legs further apart. He settles there and admires your pussy, running his thumb along your inner thigh, just off to the side of where you really want it. You’re not entirely certain, but you think you hear a breathy “beautiful” slip under the Master’s breath.

“Do you want me to touch you love?” The Master teases, letting the edge of his nail ghost along your folds.

He delights in your shiver and the eager, “yes” that barely makes it past your lips. He considers teasing you further, but what kind of reward would that be? You’ve worked hard enough for it as is.

“As you wish, darling.” 

The Master delves a finger between your folds, feeling the leaking pool of arousal that’s been flooding your pussy since he sat you down on the console. His cock throbs as he smears your arousal all over your cunt.

He’s a little greedy. He can’t help himself. He gathers some of your arousal on the tips of his fingers and brings them to his mouth, tasting you once again. Your taste sends a jolt right through his cock and he moans loud around his fingers.

“Mm, I’ve missed that taste.” The Master groans, “So tempting. So sweet.” 

Your own moan brings the Master back to you and your hips as they start to cant against the empty air.

“Oh I’m sorry love, got a little lost there. I’ll give you what you want.” 

The Master runs his fingers through your folds and your body lights up, every nerve crying, begging for more as he teases the edge of your hole. 

His fingers run up the length of your pussy until he finds that sweet, beautiful bundle of nerves that makes you cry out for him. He rubs circles on your clit, adjusting his technique until he finds the perfect rhythm to make you whimper and buck up against his fingers. His hand sends sparks through your body - quick laps of pleasure along your skin so good they almost sting. His other hand is running up and down your thigh, slow enough so his fingernails leave tingling trails in their wake that make you writhe. Your hands grapple at the Master’s sheets, needing something to ground you in the moment.

“Master, please—“ you beg as his fingers continue to work your clit. 

“Yes love?” He waits for your response with a knowing smile.

“Fuck me.” you gasp out, “I don’t wanna wait any longer. I want you.”

The Master huffs a laugh and gives you a warm look, “As you wish, love.”

He pulls your legs up and wrestles a soft pillow under your butt, making sure you’re good and comfy before settling between your legs. He takes a moment to drag himself between your folds and listen to your needy moans as his tip rubs against your clit. He doesn’t play around too long though. He’s determined to give you everything you want tonight, so he notches his cock at your entrance and slowly starts to work himself into your weeping hole.

“By the stars love, you’re so tight - hugging me so tight I can barely move.” The Master groans as he starts to gently thrust into you.“Look at the way you gush over me. You’re getting me all wet darling.” 

You can only whimper in response, too distracted by the stretch of his cock and the wonderfully full feeling to form proper words.  That’s not a problem for the Master though. He can feel it all flowing freely through your mind to his and it washes over him like a shower of compliments. 

He practically preens, feeling your pleasure and satisfaction wave over him like high tide - licking at every nerve, every exposed inch of skin until he feels hot. He picks up his pace, thrusting into you. Your hands are clutching the bedsheets for dear life as you writhe under the Master’s body. You hear a groan from him and something else unintelligible before he pounces on you.

“Stars, you’re so fucking hot.” The Master growls.

He leaps forward, slamming his lips to yours in a searing kiss as he begins to thrust his cock into your needy pussy. You moan against his lips and press your body against his - one of your hands tangles in his hair and tugs. He thrusts at a brutal pace, toying with that sensitive spot inside you. 

The Master breaks away from the kiss to trail countless wet, sloppy kisses down your throat. His tongue laps at your skin, leaving cool, wet trails in his wake. He works his way down to your breasts, punctuating every kiss with a thrust of his cock. 

He gives an experimental lick to one of your nipples and the breathless moan he gets from you is enough to quell his curiosity. He takes your nipple in his mouth and runs his tongue over it, paying close attention to the way your body shivers in response.

He cradles your other breast in his hand and toys with your other nipple - tracing around it with his nail until you whine - a breathy “please” falling from your lips. He rewards you with a pinch and works your two nipples until you’re writhing beneath him, thrusting your hips up to meet his own. 

The air shifts a little. You can feel something heavier and weightier starting to bleed through the Master’s mind into yours. You can’t place a name on the emotion, but you think it has to do with the Mermaid and everything that happened before you woke up in the TARDIS med bay.

 The Master pulls away from your breast to rest his chin on your chest. His hips slow. He holds one of your hands in his.

“Look at me love. Let me see your beautiful eyes.” He smiles when you look at him with bright, gleaming eyes. His voice is adoring when he speaks to you: “That was the Mermaid’s worst crime: changing your eyes. Changing you.” 

The Master starts to lay reverent kisses on your chest as he slowly grinds into you, letting your pleasure build subtle and slow.

“Look at you. So strong. So beautiful.” The Master murmurs, “You deserve this love. You’ve done so good today.” 

He seems like he can’t stop. All his emotions from earlier today are pouring from him like some stampede of thought.

“You saved me. In more ways than one. More than just today.” The Master admits against your warm skin, “How did you do that? How did you save a thing like me?” 

You don’t have a response; the answer is as much a mystery to you as it is to him. But you can move your hand down from his hair to hold his jaw and run a thumb over his cheek to acknowledge him. You can smile up at him and draw him in for a kiss, and let all your emotions flood through his mind until all he feels is the depth of your love for him.

The Master moans and pulls himself up from your chest. His hips pick up pace again, grinding into you harder and faster until he builds a steady rhythm.

“You’re perfect y’know that?” He groans out with a renewed vigor, “Absolutely perfect.”

He listens to your moans and feels your body’s reaction. He adjusts his thrusts until you’re a writhing mess beneath him, whimpering and whining as you listen to his ceaseless praise. 

“You beat the odds and bent that fucking Mermaid to your will. You brought it up the hill. You slammed that church door open. You’re the reason I’m still alive, love.” The Master has to pause, fighting off his release. The sight of you practically glowing in the lamplight below him is too much. All your soft warmth and quiet strength is overwhelming. He’s so proud of you that it overflows both of your minds and cascades through your bodies. It’s too much all at once. 

“You saved me.” He whispers against your lips.

“And you saved me.” You respond, leaning up to kiss him.

It’s like a switch is flipped, and now the Master is frantically kissing you and thrusting into you like an animal, desperate to give you everything you want and more. 

“I’m yours, darling. Entirely yours.” He pants into your ear. “The universe is yours if you so wish.”

Your moans are music to him; every thrust he gives is punctuated by your sultry, fucked-out voice and he’s convinced it’s the only sound that matters anymore. That is, until you card a hand through his hair and groan into his ear.

“Master, I’m close…” 

He groans, and takes that as a challenge of sorts. He won’t finish until you do, but he’s so damn close it’s getting hard to hold on. 

You notice his erratic thrusts; his shaking arms; the way he holds his breath and does everything he can to stave off his own release until you’re satisfied.

In an effort to help you, he reaches a hand down to play with your clit like he had before, drawing the most beautiful gasps and moans from your lips as your pleasure mounts - building into something tight and unbearable. 

It only takes a couple more thrusts and one last  circle on your clit to—

“Master! Don’t—don’t stop, I—please don’t stop! I—I’m—“

Your vision whites out. Your body writhes beneath the Master and wave after wave of pleasure slams through you until all that’s left is a boneless lump on the Master’s bed. For a moment, you’re entirely wiped out. You’re unable to move or think. You’re vaguely aware of the wetness between your thighs and the Master shuddering above you, heaving his breaths as he recovers from his own release.

You come down slow, enjoying the light airy feeling and the hazy pleasure that lingers afterwards. You twitch as the Master pulls his cock from you and leaves a little kiss on your clit. He quickly crawls up the bed to check on you.

“You alright there, love?” He smiles down at your fucked-out face. He’s still breathing heavy and the sight is beautiful to you.

“Mmhm.” You nod and smile back up at him. 

“How are you feeling? Done for the night or do you want more?” He asks, wiping a stray drop of sweat from your face.

He can feel your slight hesitation and quickly tries to reassure you: “It’s okay, love. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Wanna make sure you’re taken care of.”

You nod, pulling a pillow into your arms.

“I want more…” you admit into the pillow, a bashful tone overtaking your voice.

“And how do you want it?” 

You look up at the Master to see him smiling. You return that smile with wide, excited eyes. His question is enough to reassure you and you answer him with one hundred percent sincerity:

“Fuck me into this mattress, Master.”

His cock twitches and he takes a shuddering breath.

“As you wish, love.” The Master purrs.

A few rounds later, you feel very thoroughly fucked into the mattress. Your bones feel like they’ve dissolved into jelly, and you’re little more than a puddle of hazy, happy pleasure.

And then there’s something warm and wet between your legs, reeling you back into reality. 

The sheets are askew, the support pillow is halfway across the room, and you’re certain your nails left scratches all over the headboard. 

And then Master is there, between your legs, cleaning you up with a warm washcloth. 

“There you go, love. Comfy?” 

You nod lazily and make grabby hands at him with the most convincing pout you can muster. 

The Master laughs. “Alright, darling. I’ll be right there.” 

He sets the washcloth aside and returns to his bathroom for a short moment, coming back out with a couple glasses of water. 

“You don’t have to drink this now, but you’ll probably want it when we wake up.”

You look straight past the glasses on his bedside table, focusing on him, how he moves, and how he’s joining you in bed. 

You scramble under the soft purple duvet and hold up the other side, inviting the Master in. He chuckles and slides in bed to be immediately smothered by your clingy cuddles.

He cuddles you right back, tangling his legs with yours and holding your body close to his. He covers the both of you in his deep purple duvet and turns to tell you goodnight.

You’re already passed out though, clinging to the Master’s body and using his chest as a pillow.

He laughs to himself and turns off the bedside lamps, then settles himself in the bed and falls right asleep with you.

The Master wakes a few hours later to the feeling of your body moving. You’re still asleep, just adjusting a bit. The room is still dark. He can see you well enough though, and takes this time to admire you and everything you had done yesterday.

He’d meant every word he said last night. He was astounded by your strength. He was proud of you for surviving. For saving him. 

But there was still this little voice in his head telling him that none of it should have happened; that you shouldn’t have had to save him; that that’s not your job when you’re traveling with him.

It’s not long before guilt starts to settle in, ruining what sweet afterglow he could have had as he admired you.

A small rustle next to him reels him back to reality.

“G’mornin’” you yawn and stretch out against the Master’s body.

“Good morning, love.” The Master says as he turns away for a moment to switch on the bedside lamps.

He laughs a little when you scrunch your eyes closed, and fight to let your eyes adjust to the new light. He gives you a warm look, taking in the features of your face as you slowly open your eyes.

“Have I ever told you how much I love the color of your eyes?” He whispers.

“I think you’ve mentioned it a time or two.” You smile up at him before noticing that something is just a hair off in his expression, “What’s wrong?” 

“Hmm? Oh, nothing’s wrong. Just enjoying my view.” 

“No. You’ve got that look on your face. The one you wear when something’s wrong, but you don’t want to scare me so you pretend everything’s fine.” 

“You really do know me, don’t you, darling?” 

“That I do.” You give a little sassy nod and wait for the Master’s explanation.

“Fine. It’s the trip. Yesterday.”

“What are you thinking about?” You sit up, giving the Master all of your attention.

“I just…yesterday was supposed to be a fun, seaside trip. I wanted to take you to the ocean and watch your face light up when you saw the beach - you’re always talking about how much you love the beach - and I just wanted to make you happy. But instead, I got it wrong. I almost lost you.” The Master reaches out to hold your hand - like he’s making sure you’re still here.

“Master, that isn’t your fault. None of it is your fault.”  

His gaze focuses on your fingers as he quietly inspects them.

“Isn’t it? If I had got the date right, none of this would have happened. You would have stayed safe.”  

“You couldn’t have known what was going to happen. Even with a time machine and your Time Lord super powers, you couldn’t have known.” You insist.

“I should have turned us around the minute I felt suspicious–” 

“It’s not your fault, Master.”  

“–but you looked so happy when you rushed out the TARDIS doors–” 

“Master, it isn’t–”  

“–and the way your face lit up when you heard the sound of the waves? How could I ever say no to that face? I couldn’t, so–” 

“Master–” 

“–so I let you go. I let you explore and I–” 

“Master.” 

“I put you in danger. Like I always do.” 

The look on the Master’s face was a punch to your gut. You could see tears starting to well in his eyes and a look in them that said he was trying to fight them back. You wrap your arms around him, bringing his head to rest on your chest before any could fall. 

“It’s not your fault, Master. It’s not your fault.” 

“I–I could have done m-more to save you. To keep the villagers from harming you.” 

“But you did save me. I’m still here. I’m right here, holding you, running my fingers through your hair – the same old me it’s always been.” You pause to rake your fingers through the Master’s hair, “Neither of us could have known how the villagers would react to us. Neither of us were prepared for anything like it. But we survived. And I’m still alive because you saved me.”

He nods into your neck, hugging you closer to him as his body shudders.

After a moment, he looks back up at you, wiping his eyes and cheeks before you say anything. He just keeps staring into your eyes, looking at you to make sure you’re really still there - making sure he really had gotten all of the Mermaid out of your mind. 

You notice the bags under his eyes. They’re still there despite how long the two of you slept. It makes you wonder. 

“Master, how long did you spend removing the Mermaid from my head?” 

He hesitates a moment and a guilty look starts to overshadow his eyes. 

“Ten hours.”   

Your eyes widen - practically popping right out of your head.

“Ten hours? Straight?” 

The Master nods, solemn. 

You are silent. Dumbstruck. You give the Master a look that pleads for an explanation or some rationale to explain what he was thinking. Ten hours straight to remove the alien in your head?

“It was a delicate process. One wrong move could have killed you and there was no way in hell I was going to let that happen. I thought I lost you once last night, nothing in the universe could have stopped me from trying to save you.” 

“Master I–” The Master isn’t done.  

“Losing you, love, for however brief a moment, shattered me. I thought you were dead. Really, truly, there’s-no-coming-back-from-this dead. I didn’t even fight the villagers when they dragged me to the church. Or when they restrained me. Or when they were setting up that stupid ritual. I could only see the terror in your eyes as you were pushed over, and I could only think about how I couldn’t save you. I didn’t try hard enough to save you. I got distracted and I—“

“Master.” Your gentle voice pulls him from his rambling. You pull him into a hug, hoping it will help ground him.

“I’m scared of losing you.” The Master admits in a whisper against your neck. “I’ve never been more scared than I was last night.”

You place a kiss on his cheek and cradle his neck in your hand. You know there isn’t anything to say in response.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually he sits back up and cradles your head in his hand.

“Yknow, this whole traveling thing…I need you with me. It’s not worth it to travel the stars if you’re not here. If I had lost you last night…I’d–I’d lose myself. I don’t know what I’d become.”  

“You didn’t lose me, Master, you saved me. We saved each other.” 

The Master nods, pulling you back into his arms. He places a kiss just under your ear and nuzzles into your neck, taking a moment to appreciate how it feels to hold you.

You almost miss it, but right as you close your eyes, there’s a mumble against your ear.

“Thank you for saving me.”

Star and Mood Dividers By: @cafekitsune

Ocean Divider:

[sea-jello]

Day 21/October 21: Day of the Departed || Reminisce (??)

GRAHH ITS STILL THE 21ST SOMEWHERE i’m apparently using morrotober to try new things this one’s a new lineart brush that i’m sorta warming up to and the POSE and the BACKGROUND and the LIGHTING i’m surprised i finished this at all tbh. and also new morro design

bg lineart and sword vs neither plus the green ghost fog thing i do basically if you zoom in really really close the lines aren’t smooth on the lineless bgs but icba the pedestal can be chipped or something. i kinda like without the sword and fog cause it gives him a more isolated feel yk (that was my original idea lmao)

this one’s my attempt at funky mannequin hands

[kheprriverse]

Upcoming Ballad changes 👀?

[nero-neptune]

front/back of a bookmark i made for my program's bookmark design competition

[robo-dino-puppy]

horizontober 2023 | 22: weave

[darkartistyt]

raphael: "oh sweet the bracelet gives me cool powers :D" (< clueless)

[pepperpixel]

Both love and hate the absolute DELUGE of ink a fresh sharpie unleashes onto the paper the instant it makes contact…. I have complicated feelings towards the deluge lmao

[perenlop]

imagine if instead of having vic mignogna keldeo, we got an iris movie about her relationship with kyurem

[mokeonn]

One of my favorite things about being in my early 20s is that I'm starting to understand that I can use things not for their intended purpose. When you're growing up, you get told what an object is and what its intended purpose is, and as a kid/teen, I just accepted all of it at face value. As a young adult it's finally clicking that I can simply do things a different way if it makes me happier. Sure, I was taught that you stand to take a shower, but there's nothing stopping me from just sitting if I don't feel like it, ya know? I might have always had my medication in the kitchen, but if I'm no longer remembering to take it, I can just move it somewhere where I can remember. You don't have to specifically store all food in the kitchen, you can have a little snack cart or snack station in another room.

The downside to finding out the various ways you can use objects is that you develop habits that would probably go on an r/relationships post where everyone says you're a little freak.

[ask-the-totally-real-peppino]

It's Pride Month! How would Pep and the others celebrate?

(Happy Pride month!!!

We will get into how the others celebrate pride later, but this would technically be Pep's first pride, and he's still figuring that out!

(Spoiler alert: He'll be queer in some way, bc everyone here is, hehe)

[i-eat-lip-gloss]

literally nobody:

me at 12:30 am writing out a literal speech/essay on fnaf and all it’s lore:

[myymi]

how does one turn sonic into a dragon without him looking like a cursed fusion of a nightfury and deadly nadder