#and !! i’ve been writing !!!!! it’s a christmas miracle !!

[noramoons]

i live

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

Chapter 6 is done let’s fucking goooooooooo

[theetherealbloom]

WHERE DO WE GO NOW? - CH. 3 | 14th Doctor

Chapter Three: Guess The Space Was The Thing That I Needed, But I Miss You

Summary: You arrived on present-day Earth engulfed in violence and chaos. And a familiar foe who transcends the universe’s laws and logic. He hails from a realm where science is a game, but that salt trick apparently blurred the lines of reality enough for him to enter your universe.

Pairing: 14th Doctor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt-to-Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Possible Plot Holes, Vague Background, Aliens, Mild Horror, Violence, Past Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, Timey-Wimey Stuff, Star-Crossed Lovers, Second Chance, Character Death, 

Word Count: 15.5k

A/N: Hello old friend, and here we are, you and me on the last… chapter. When I posted the first chapter of this mini-series I was honestly terrified of the response I would be getting. I hadn’t been writing for a while due to stress or lack of motivation. But then the miracle called the Doctor Who specials came into existence and here we are. Also, Merry Christmas Eve! Here’s my little gift to you. I hope you enjoy. (P.S. yes there will be an epilogue :>)

Song: This Love by Taylor Swift (Taylor's Version)

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Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

ENGLAND, THE STREETS OF LONDON — DAY, 2023

The world descends into turmoil and pandemonium as cars collide, their metal frames screeching against each other. The air is filled with the cacophony of people shouting and screaming. Amidst the mayhem, you, the Doctor, and Donna navigate the tumult, pushing Wilf's wheelchair through the chaotic landscape. Struggling through the disarray, people around you engage in fights and heated arguments, adding to the surreal spectacle of disorder unfolding.

As the rumble of a truck engine grows louder, a man defiantly strides onto the road, seemingly prepared to challenge the oncoming driver. Reacting swiftly, both you and the Doctor extend your arms, urgently intervening. You exclaim, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Excuse me. Can you tell me, what the bloody hell are you doing?"

The elderly man, with an air of self-assuredness, retorts, "I can’t drive."

Perplexed, you furrow your brow and inquire, "Okay, so— Which means?"

Meanwhile, a car behind you impatiently honks, prompting the Doctor to raise his hand, signaling the driver to wait. Unperturbed, the stranger in front of you explains, "I pay my taxes. Which means I paid for this road. It is mine, and I will do with it what I like."

The Doctor interjects, cautioning, "You’ll get yourself killed."

The man, with a sneer and a narrowed gaze, replies, "It’s my life, not yours." Undeterred, the Doctor suggests, "But you could just stand over there and be safe."

Flailing his arms emphatically, the man retorts, "Blame them! Because it all changed two days ago. Everyone started thinking they’re right all the time. And they won’t change their mind. If you try to argue, they go mad. Well, not me. I’ve always been right."

The deafening honk of the truck intensifies as it barrels forward, compelling the Doctor to swiftly seize you and yank you out of harm's way. In the chaos, you unintentionally collide with a well-dressed man adorned in a tuxedo, complete with a top hat and a staff in his left hand. Apologizing in a refined manner, he utters, "Oh, excusez-moi, madame et monsieur, je suis désolé. But perhaps you will dance avec moi."

He then takes the lead in an impromptu dance, placing his hand just above your waist and swaying with you amidst the bedlam unfolding on the street. In a rather peculiar tone, he utters, "Ooh la la."

Feeling uncomfortable, you gently pull away from the eccentric stranger. The Doctor, sensing your unease, protectively tucks you behind his body and asserts, "That's my wife, sir. Excuse me." With a subtle maneuver, he guides you away, back to where Donna and Wilf are positioned on the side of the street.

Amidst the cacophony of screaming voices echoing through the chaotic streets, the peculiar stranger continues his solo dance, creating a bizarre spectacle in the midst of the turmoil. The distant whirr of a helicopter above adds to the disconcerting atmosphere, leaving you and the Doctor with a growing sense of panic, a shared feeling of confusion about the unfolding events.

Armored vehicles roll onto the scene, their imposing presence and military precision contrasting sharply with the chaotic backdrop. A soldier, wielding a loud megaphone, calls out with urgency, "Attention, the Doctor and the Stargazer! Attention, the Doctor and the Stargazer! Stay where you are. You are UNIT control. Repeat, UNIT control."

The soldiers swiftly move into action, their movements coordinated as they converge on your location. One of them confidently asserts, "Go, go, go! Let’s move! Eyes on, eyes on! I got them." The atmosphere shifts from anarchic confusion to a semblance of organized control as UNIT takes charge.

The authoritative figure from UNIT, Colonel Ibrahim, strides forward, a no-nonsense expression etched on his face. "Doctor, Stargazer, I’m Colonel Ibrahim of UNIT squad five," he declares with military precision. He gestures toward a waiting vehicle, a subtle urgency in his stance.

Donna, the voice of concern, steps forward, her plea directed at the Colonel. "Get him to safety. All right? Never mind about us. I want my grandad safe. All right? You got that?" Her words carry the weight of a granddaughter determined to ensure the safety of her grandad, emphasizing the weight of the situation.

Colonel Ibrahim gives an assertive nod, his military demeanor unwavering. "Yes, ma’am. We’ll keep your family safe," he assures Donna. Wilf, displaying concern for his granddaughter's well-being, encourages her, "You go with the Doctor."

Amidst the organized chaos of UNIT soldiers following orders, a palpable sense of unease settles over you. A feeling of being observed intensifies, prompting you to instinctively clasp the Doctor’s hand. Together, your hearts quicken as you turn to the left, discovering the stranger with whom you shared an odd dance. He stands eerily still, offering a disconcerting smile and a small wave, sending shivers down your spine.

UNIT HEADQUARTERS, LONDON — DAY, 2023

Seated alongside the Doctor in the first helicopter, you peer out of the window, taking in the chaotic scene below. The city is ablaze, casting an eerie glow that turns the world outside into a disorienting spectacle, as if the very fabric of reality has been upended. The second helicopter follows closely, bearing the weight of the TARDIS, an emblem of hope amidst the turmoil. The flickering flames paint a surreal canvas against the night sky, leaving you with a profound sense of displacement.

The helicopter sets down on the helipad at the UNIT headquarters, and as you disembark, the brisk wind from the rotor blades whips through the air. Donna clutches her coat tightly, shouting over the din, "Oh, here comes trouble."

Shirley, in her wheelchair, wheels forward with a wide smile, greeting you with a warm, "I could say the same thing about you." The TARDIS touches down nearby on the helipad, and amidst the noise, the Doctor remarks, "Shirley, you can’t be serious." Shirley squeezes your arm in a friendly greeting.

Chief Scientific Officer Kate, your boss, appears on the scene, her short blonde hair bouncing slightly as she strides towards the group. The Doctor, arms outstretched, exclaims, "And Kate Lethbridge-Stewart. I remember your father working night and day to keep UNIT a secret. Look at you now. Out and proud defending the Earth."

Kate embraces the Doctor tightly before turning to you with a subdued smile, saying, "I fought them all. Robots and insects and yetis and clones. But what do we do this time, Doctor? How do we fight the human race?"

Inside the UNIT headquarters, the large steel doors close behind you, shutting out the chaos. The new HQ unfolds before your eyes, with the hum of radio chatter and the bustle of people. Multiple screens and tables with keyboards fill the room, and a triple giant screen at the center displays various statistics and news outlets reporting the devastation around the world.

Kate hands the tablet to the Doctor, and you lean over to peer at the symbols and graphs displayed on it. The Doctor, engrossed in the data, doesn't look up as he remarks, "Good, good, good. Now, what have we got? Are these worldwide? 'Cause I'm gonna need all of the statistics."

As he turns to his right, an exclamation of surprise escapes him. Your gaze follows his, and there stands a very familiar redheaded companion and colleague. She grins at the Doctor's reaction, and he joyfully exclaims, "Oh! That is the best news! Melanie, hello!"

Both you and the Doctor share a brief hug with Mel, who giggles and adds, "We'll catch up later. We haven't got time." You chime in with a playful, "Ta-da! Surprise, Doctor."

Turning to you, the Doctor asks, "You knew?"

You playfully roll your eyes and retort, "We work together, dear." Mel adds, "We also try to meet every Saturday for a cuppa."

Mel tilts her head slightly, addressing Donna with a warm smile, "I used to be like you. I was one of their companions." Donna gasps, exclaiming, "I wasn't the first redhead?"

With a shake of her head, Mel allows her large red curls to bounce, "No. That was me."

Donna awkwardly chuckles as the Doctor takes his glasses and wears them, quipping, "Although don't say companion. That sounds like we park him on the seafront at Weston-super-mare."

As Shirley pushes herself off the wheelchair, standing and giving Donna a look, Donna suddenly realizes what she said and turns to face Shirley, asking, "Is 'park' rude?" Shirley replies with a monotone voice, "Borderline." Donna winces in response.

In the heart of the command center, Kate stands with authority, her tablet in hand, and announces, "And stations. Gold Protocols. The Doctor and the Stargazer are in the room. Report."

Shirley adjusts her stance, her voice cutting through the air, "Two days ago, an increase in violence worldwide. The same increase in every country, all rising at exactly the same rate."

"Basically, every single human being thinks they're right and won't be told otherwise," Kate says, moving to stand next to you. Colonel Ibrahim adds, "That plane crash, the F665, Boston to Heathrow. The pilot declared his right to land wherever he wants."

On the screen, footage of the crazed pilot plays. His eyes were wide, he laughs amidst the blaring alarms of his instruments, declaring, "I'm coming home. Lookout, London. Daddy's coming home!"

In the tension-filled room, the Doctor initiates, "If everyone is going mad—" and Kate concurs, completing the thought, "So is the government."

Shirley, with a solemn nod, swipes on the screen of her tablet, unveiling footage of the current Prime Minister. He stands on a podium, his laughter echoing as he addresses the nation, "What do I care? I mean, seriously? Why should I care about you?"

In the aftermath of Donna's nonchalant remark, injecting a touch of humor with her observation, "No change there then," the room grapples with the unsettling scenes unfolding on the screen. The Doctor, now reclaiming the tablet, hands it back to Mel, who places it on her station. His gaze then sweeps across the room, and he remarks, "But you're fine. You're completely normal. And that's because of the—" He gestures towards the silver bands adorned with a glowing blue light worn around their arms.

Kate steps in to elaborate, "Oh, we call it the Zeedex." As the room processes this information, a robot's machine voice chimes in from the far left, connected to tubes and sporting screens, proudly announcing, "An invention of the Vlinx."

Taking a step forward, the Doctor addresses the robotic AI, "Hello, the Vlinx. I'm the Doctor, and this is my wife, the Stargazer."

Quick to clarify, you interject, "Not married yet."

"Just practicing," the Doctor playfully hums before turning his attention back to the Vlinx. With curiosity piqued, he queries, "So why's it called the Zeedex?"

In response to the Vlinx's brief explanation, "Good name," the Doctor emits a small, contemplative "Oh." Kate supplements the information, stating, "It disrupts the brain. Flattens the spike. Keeps everything calm."

With a slight scrunch of your nose, you inquire, "And the spike is?"

"I think I need to show you," Kate responds. Sensing a shift in the room, she commands Shirley, "Activate brain scan."

"Activating, ma'am," Shirley acknowledges. A beep emanates from the computer, and the screen displays the frequency inside Kate's brain. She points out, "That's my brain activity. Seems normal, albeit slightly heightened, given the end of the world. Now keep your eyes on the scan."

Kate moves to the center of the room and instructs, "And deactivate my Zeedex."

Shirley types on the keyboard, announcing, "Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, off." The light on her silver armband extinguishes. Kate takes a moment to scan the room, hands on hips, and asks, "Well?"

You gently interject, "Uh, hello?"

"Hello," Kate replies promptly, but her narrowed eyes betray suspicion. The Doctor poses a simple question, "How are you?"

"Fine," she responds.

You casually inquire, "Busy day?" Kate's nostrils flare, and she glares at you, retorting, "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm just asking. Is that a problem?" you reply, observing the increased spike in brain activity. Kate aggressively points at you, asserting, "It's an invasion of my privacy. In fact, it's an assault on my civic rights. And I think it's highly relevant that the person demanding information from me is an alien."

The Doctor turns to Shirley, nodding in approval for her to activate her Zeedex, and calmly says, "Okay."

However, Kate abruptly interjects, rejecting the Doctor's initiative, "No, no, no, no, no. I think you'll find that I'm in charge here." With a swift motion, she rips off her Zeedex, launching into an impassioned tirade, "And we've been infiltrated by aliens, a man and a woman with two hearts," she points accusatorily at the Doctor, "a man who changes his face and cannot be trusted."

As her anger intensifies, Kate aggressively directs her accusations at Donna and Mel, both with red hair, insinuating a conspiracy. You instinctively step forward, shielding them from Kate's escalating rage.

Growing more incensed, Kate turns her ire towards Shirley, who looks on with mild dissatisfaction. Kate singles out your friend and declares, "And as for her, in that chair. I've seen you walk. I've seen you walking! Don't deny it!"

UNIT soldiers move in to pull Kate away, and she unleashes her fury at you, "And you! This is all your fault! If you hadn't fallen into the bloody time rift, altering the universe with your existence and falling in love with the Doctor—none of this would have happened!"

The soldiers carefully escort Kate away, and the Doctor swiftly positions himself in front of you, protectively shielding you from lingering gazes. You bury your face in his shoulder as Kate continues to shout, "No, you can't stop me. It's about time you heard the truth."

One of the soldiers places the silver band back on Kate's arm and commands, "Activate Zeedex," resulting in a beep and the restoration of the blue light on her band. Kate sits on the floor, panting, as the tension in the room eases.

You lift your head from the Doctor's shoulder and nod, silently assuring him that you're okay. Together, you approach Kate, who is visibly distressed, covering her face with her hand. She breathes out an apology, "I'm sorry."

Both you and the Doctor shake your heads, reassuring her, "No, it's okay."

Gasping for air, Kate turns to Shirley, mortified, realizing the extent of her outburst. She says, "Shirley, I'm so sorry."

Shirley dismisses the need for an apology, "Absolutely no need."

UNIT soldiers help Kate to her feet as she acknowledges, "It's not just me. It keeps spiking inside every single person's head."

"But what does that mean? Is it being beamed in from outside?" Donna inquires. The Vlinx responds, "No. It is natural. It is generated inside the brain."

Donna points out, "But not me. Not Grandad." Mel adds, "Nor me. I'm wearing a Zeedex just in case, but I've been fine. Well, no more opinionated than usual." Donna sighs, "You and me both."

You and the Doctor ponder the situation, and he suggests, "Maybe long-term travel in the TARDIS put you out of sync."

Donna shakes her head and proposes, "Can't you give everyone a Zeedex?" Kate scoffs at the idea, gesturing to the screen behind her, where a late-night talk show host expresses her skepticism, "They're using this to control us and monitor us. And microwave our brains. I am anti-Zeedex!"

The Doctor, in response, asks you to help him with his coat. You take it from him and neatly place it on a chair. He then stands next to Shirley and suggests, "Can we filter this wavelength? Lose the background noise."

Shirley hums in response, typing away on her keyboard, "Uh-huh. Gives us a strong coherent wave in seizure focus. Peaking seven times."

As you consider the recent events, you voice your thoughts, "So, this started two days ago. But why then? What else happened on that day?" Kate responds, "Exactly. We've been looking for a trigger, and there's this."

The screen illuminates with the image of a satellite gracefully orbiting the Earth, accompanied by detailed blueprints on the left side. Kate elucidates, "The KOSAT 5 satellite, launched by South Korea, activated two days ago.”

Shirley, with a swift gesture, adds to the explanation by displaying a live feed of the satellite, which hovers 36,000 kilometers above Earth. Kate expounds further, “KOSAT is the final link in the chain. The world is now 100% online. From the highest mountain to the deepest valley on Earth, everyone is connected.”

"But KOSAT is clean. We’ve checked and double-checked. It’s not like the old Archangel Network. There’s nothing hiding in that signal." Shirley asserts, and the Doctor, with a contemplative hum, adds, “And yet.” He shakes his head, “For the first time in history, everyone has access to this.” He taps on the edge of one of the monitors, saying, “A screen.”

"What if it’s a tune?" Donna asks, prompting you and the Doctor to turn around and face her.

"What?" The Doctor inquires as you move to stand in front of her. Donna continues, "I know we’ve only got minutes left to live, but give me a second." Donna begins to draw lines on a clipboard with a piece of paper as she explains, "Because I spent six months teaching my daughter how to play the recorder till she said, ‘This is not who I am.’ That was the start of a whole other conversation, believe you me.”

She places the sheet of paper on the screen, drawing dots on the corresponding line, “But if… you look at these seven peaks, like this…”

She flips the sheet of paper around, revealing what you recognize to be music notes, and Donna confirms this by saying, “Maybe it's music.”

“A classic arpeggio. Middle C, an octave higher.” Mel says before she sings in arpeggio, “La, la, la, la, la, la, la.”

“Oh.” Kate says as if she remembers something, and you look around to see others having the same reaction, as if they’ve heard it before. You and the Doctor look around and ask, “What? What is it?”

Mel repeats her tune, “La, la, la, la, la, la, la.”

Donna gasps, her eyes slightly watering and her blue eyes shining as she says, “I know that tune.”

“I-I know that from somewhere. What are the notes?” Shirley asks, spinning her chair to face you, and you read them off, “C, E, G, C, G, E, C. It’s a musical palindrome.” Then you sigh, “But it’s just a straightforward arpeggio. Everyone knows arpeggios.”

“It’s a basic tune. So, the question is, why are we all reacting to this one?” Mel asks as everyone looks around at each other. You and the Doctor frown, and he says, “We’re not. The Vlinx?”

“Negative.” The Vlinx replies promptly, and you hum out loud, “Just the humans.”

“It’s just— It’s so familiar. It’s like it’s been buried in my head for years.” Donna says and groans, “What is it?”

Then you hear giggling from across the room, a nearby station. You and the Doctor turn to see Shirley pointing to her screen, a puppet in black and white display as she says, “I found the exact same notes.”

The puppet begins to laugh in arpeggio, and you and the Doctor realize it at the same time. The Doctor says, “Oh, it’s not a tune. It’s a laugh.”

“It’s a puppet.” Kate says as she stares wide-eyed at the screen featuring the puppet.

“The giggle in everyone’s head.” You say as you stand behind Shirley, looking at the monitor as it continues to laugh in the arpeggio notes.

“What is that thing?” Donna asks, and Shirley explains, “Stooky Bill, the first face ever to appear on television. Put there by John Logie Baird himself.”

Donna shakes her head and points at Stooky displayed on the monitor, “I’ve never seen him before, so how do— How do I know that laugh?”

You blink a few times before realizing out loud, saying, “If the very first image has been hiding in every screen since… sneaking into your head, carving a wave, and waiting…”

“But hiding how? If there were secret pictures hiding in every television, we would have found it,” Shirley asks, so sure of herself and UNIT’s capabilities. The Doctor then sassily and in a mocking tone replies, “Oh, why? Because you’re so clever? Maybe Stooky Bill’s a lot smarter than you.” Shirley raises her eyebrows and puckers her lips, somewhat agreeing to the possibility.

“Imagine… if he burnt himself into television itself and every picture ever since, every single one.” You say before taking out your sonic screwdriver, pointing to one of the monitors, and clicking the button. It whizzes, and the image of Stooky Bill appears. The woman who sat by that desk pushes back her chair in shock, and he is mockingly laughing as you hear the notes in the air.

“Screen… after screen, after screen.” You use your sonic screwdriver, tapping on each station's monitor, revealing Stooky Bill as it continues to reverberate its laughs.

The Doctor joins in, using his sonic on an employee’s phone in their hands. He says as he clicks his sonic screwdriver, “And every type of screen.” The Doctor taps on Kate’s tablet, showing the image of Stooky Bill. He says, “Every one and everywhere. He’s inside ‘em all!”

You move to stand in the very front of the room, center, pointing your sonic at the large screens. “And two days ago, he finally connected worldwide, branding his Giggle into your brains.” The sonic screwdriver warbles, and images of Stooky Bill, along with his laugh, appear on the large monitor.

The Doctor stands by your side, adding in a low voice, “Since the very first existence of television. Laughing at the human race. And driving you mad.”

The entire group gathers for a small meeting by the large metal doors that lead to the helipad outside. You stand in a circle, positioned by the Doctor’s side, his glasses tucked away in his pocket. Kate tries to grasp the newfound knowledge as she asks, “But something at that scale, over so many years, who could do that?”

The Doctor's countenance turns wrathful, and you sense the heat and intensity radiating from his body as he retorts, "The puppet’s just a puppet. We’re looking for the puppeteer." He then pauses, taking a deep breath that puffs out his chest as he crosses his arms. Speaking with a low intensity, he adds, "And I’ve got a memory. I think something’s coming back… after a very long time."

Raising his voice to address everyone, he grits his teeth, "But it’s not only the giggle. Don’t go thinking you’ve got an excuse. The human race might be clever and bright and brilliant." His words are delivered with a hint of disgust, "But it’s also savage and venal and relentless."

The Doctor points to the screens showcasing people causing havoc around the world as he vehemently declares, "All the anger out there on the street. The lies, the righteousness." Jabbing a finger at the rest of the group, he continues, "That’s human. That’s you. That’s who you are. Using you’re intelligence to be stupid. Poisoning the world. And hating each other, you’ve never needed any help with that!”

He briefly pauses, toning down his voice as he says, “But today, something else is using your worst attributes. Playing with you. Like toys.” A chill runs down your spine as a distant memory starts to resurface, hinting at an old-time foe returning to wreak havoc. You blink, a hunch forming about who might be orchestrating all of the catastrophe.

“Can we take that satellite out?” The Doctor asks Kate, and she replies promptly, “All missiles are on lockdown, but we’ve got the Galvanic Beam.”

“What range?” You inquire, and Kate explains, “We could pick off a pebble on the moon. Trouble is, taking out a South Korean satellite will have international consequences, so we’ve been waiting for permission. All world leaders are being affected by the Giggle.”

The Doctor nods and says, “You have my permission.” He then looks to you, and you deeply sigh, nodding, “And you have mine.”

Kate nods to Colonel Ibrahim, signaling to get the Galvanic Beam ready. Then, she turns to you and the Doctor, “Thank you, Doctor and Stargazer.” Kate moves past you, announcing to the entire UNIT staff on the floor, “Gold protocol override. All staff, initiate Galvanic activation. Bring up the beam.”

“Platform in motion,” an employee's voice echoes through the speaker as the platform outside the tower shifts downward.

“Shirley, have we got the exact date that Logie Baird made that transmission?” The Doctor asks aloud, to which Shirley responds with determination, “I’ll find it,” and begins clicking away on her keyboard.

“All clear on the helipad,” another employee announces over the speaker as The Doctor walks over to Mel’s station, and you make your way towards Shirley, beginning to help her locate the date of the transmission.

The Doctor leans over Mel’s shoulder, and she says to him, “I fed the KOSAT fake coordinates, so it’s coming into UK orbit. Within range in three minutes.” The Doctor compliments her, “You’re brilliant.” He then looks at her with a smile, “Hello.” Mel replies with her own smile, the kind that reaches her eyes as she says, “Hi.”

You glance over to see the Doctor and Mel chatting as they work, and a sense of happiness and comfort washes over you, knowing Mel is okay. After a few minutes, you hear Mel announce to everyone, “Galvanic Beam payload boarding.”

“Platform locking at level 55,” an employee announces over the intercom, and Mel continues, “Galvanic Beam in position. KOSAT in range in 90 seconds.”

A beep emanates from Shirley’s computer, and your eyes quickly scan over the words before Shirley turns her head and says to the Doctor, “Doctor, Stooky Bill was televised on the 2nd of October 1925 at 22 Frith Street, Soho, W1D 4RF.”

You grab the Doctor’s coat from the chair and hand it to him as he says to Kate, “Fire when ready. Don’t wait for us.” He then looks to Colonel Ibrahim, quickly asking, “TARDIS?”

The Colonel points as he replies promptly, “Suite 17.”

The Doctor grunts, “Okay.” After putting on his coat, he grabs your hand, pulling you along with him as Donna says to you both, “You’re not going without me.”

As you enter the suite and find the TARDIS parked there, the Doctor quickly unlocks it with his key and rushes inside, with you and Donna trailing right behind him. Time’s running out, always running out, and every road you discover disappears under your feet. Because if nothing else, you're given a little time to change the game, a chance to redefine everything.

SOHO — 1925

The TARDIS whooshes and whizzes, finally giving a loud thud as it lands. The Doctor opens the door first, popping his head out to check if it’s safe before allowing you and Donna to step out into the dimly lit alley where the TARDIS is parked. The flickering gas lamps cast a warm glow, highlighting the cobblestone street and the faint echoes of distant chatter.

The Doctor announces to the two of you, “Soho, 1925.”

“So, what about Mel?” Donna asks, wiggling her eyebrows playfully at the two of you. You let out a chuckle, saying, “She’s brilliant, isn’t she?”

Donna laughs with a smile, “Yeah, but I just kept thinking, all this time, you’ve never mentioned her.”

The Doctor addresses Donna with a frown, “Donna, we’re a billion years old. If we stood and talked about everyone we’d ever met, we’d still be in the TARDIS yapping.”

“So you talk about no one ever?” Donna asks, and you look away guiltily. Donna continues, “You just keep charging on.”

“Yes, because I’m busy. Like now,” the Doctor replies.

“But you are busy every second of every day. I mean, look at us now. We haven’t stopped,” Donna points out, and you all come to a halt by the sidewalk. She continues, “I saw you, Doctor. I got a glimpse inside your mind.” The three of you stand on the sidewalk, surrounded by the ambient sounds of 1925 London, as Donna expresses, “And it’s like you’re staggering. You are staggering along. Maybe that’s why your old face came back. You’re wearing yourself out.”

You observe as the Doctor contemplates her words, his expression revealing a momentary reflection on her insight. However, he doesn't directly acknowledge them. Instead, he smoothly shifts the topic, saying, "Stooky Bill might be on Frith Street, but the question is, where did Stooky Bill come from?”

His gaze shifts to the bright red shop on the street labeled Mr. Emporium above the store. The three of you cross the street, anticipation building as you peek through the window. There, you spot someone engaged in a playful exchange with the Doctor, both figures playing peek-a-boo before the mysterious man expertly hops down to conceal himself. The Doctor's expression tightens with anger as he forcefully shoves the door open, pulling back the maroon curtains, and the three of you step into the enchanting toy store.

The atmosphere is filled with wonder and a touch of nostalgia as you take in the whimsical surroundings. Shelves adorned with a myriad of toys, each telling a story of childhood innocence and imagination. The air is scented with a mix of wooden toys, plush animals, and the faint fragrance of freshly painted models.

As you step further into the store, your disbelief intensifies as you recognize the man orchestrating this peculiar encounter. An old foe, one who could have channeled his creativity for good, yet chose to warp reality into a twisted game where play meant suffering for others. Dressed in a crisp white button-up and a vibrant red apron, he skillfully juggles three balls, his voice carrying a distinct German accent as he addresses you, "Die ball is die first game ever being invented."

He throws a ball towards you, only for the Doctor to swiftly intercept it before it makes contact with your stomach. Without missing a beat, the Doctor tosses it away onto the ground. Meanwhile, the man behind the counter continues his mesmerizing juggling act, sharing his narrative, "Stone Age man, he picked up ein rock." The Doctor catches another ball skillfully, and with a nonchalant toss, sends it away.

The rhythmic cadence of his speech, accompanied by the mesmerizing flow of his juggling, weaves an enchanting atmosphere within the toy store. The balls dance through the air, tracing whimsical patterns, adding a touch of magic to the man's storytelling. With a gleam in his eye, he continues narrating, "He said, ‘Oh! Das ist ein Ball.’"

The sequence of throw and catch becomes a rhythmic ballet, each movement a beat in the peculiar symphony unfolding before you. "He threw it, und he killed a man," he declares with a dramatic flair, followed by a nonchalant toss.

Another cycle of throw and catch commences, and he recounts, "He said, ‘Oh, what fun!’" The balls move effortlessly in the air, and the ambiance resonates with a sense of playfulness.

"Und now, everybody loves the balls," he proclaims, the balls gliding through the air in a mesmerizing display. Every throw, catch, and toss adds to the building tension in the tale.

"Until the year five billion. When the very last human picks up the skull of his enemy," he declares, the tone shifting slightly, yet maintaining the captivating rhythm. The balls continue their dance, and he winks as he concludes, "Und said, ‘That is the final ball of all,’ jah?"

As he tosses another ball, the vibrant atmosphere in the toy store takes a sudden turn when Donna, with a determined air, steps forward and effortlessly catches the ball with a single hand. Her gaze, firm and unyielding, pierces through the whimsical scene as she asserts, "Enough."

The man behind the counter raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, Donna Noble. I wondered which one of you had the balls," he retorts, his words carrying a playful undertone. Donna, taken aback, attempts to brush it off with a casual, "Okay. So you know my name?" The man, still smirking, raises both eyebrows in response.

Curiosity sparking, Donna seeks answers. "How do you three know each other?" she questions, her tone holding a mix of suspicion and intrigue. In response, the Doctor, donning a low, stern tone and a deep frown that accentuates the lines on his face, issues a command, "Star, Donna, go back to the TARDIS." The urgency in his voice hints at a deeper concern, urging them to retreat from the unfolding confrontation.

Donna, wearing a perplexed expression, seeks clarification, "What?"

The Doctor, frustration evident in his gritted teeth, reiterates his command, "Go back to the TARDIS."

You, however, defiantly shake your head. "As much as I love you bossing me around, you do not get to tell me to leave you here with him." The tension in the air thickens, with unspoken concerns lingering between all of you.

"Oh, but he is recognizing me," he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You whip your head back to the man behind the counter, the one who revels in tricks and games for sheer amusement. Chaos and discord personified, he continues, "Are you not 'ge-pleased,' Herr Doctor und Stargazer, to see me again after so many years?"

Donna, finally seeking clarity, asks, "Who is he?" Flashbacks of memories flood your mind.

The Doctor answers, "The Toymaker." As the realization sinks in, the atmosphere in the room starts to change.

The Toymaker gives a bow, a theatrical flourish that befits his whimsical yet ominous presence. Abruptly changing accents, he addresses with a menacing tone, "We meet again, Doctor, Stargazer."

But just as swiftly, the Toymaker's demeanor undergoes a shift. Stepping backward, he adopts a German accent, prompting curiosity. "But think, if the ball was the very first game, what was the second?"

With a mischievous grin, he seizes both ends of the curtain behind him and declares, "Hide-and-seek!" The Toymaker pulls the curtain shut, his laughter echoing in the room in those distinctive arpeggio notes.

The Doctor vaults over the counter, deftly pushing aside the two curtains, only to discover the Toymaker's disappearance. Behind the curtains lies a door, and with a quick turn of the copper-colored knob, the Doctor reveals a seemingly endless hallway. Warm-toned lights bathe the corridor in a gentle glow, wooden floorboards creak, and numerous doors line both sides of the mysterious passage.

As the Doctor steps forward, guided by an instinct you and Donna share, the door abruptly slams shut behind both of you. Turning sharply, the Doctor commands, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Go back.” With a quick twist of the doorknob, it should logically lead you out, but instead, it reveals the same seemingly endless hallway. Donna, her mouth agape, exclaims, “It’s bigger than the shop. Don’t tell me he’s got his own TARDIS.”

“The TARDIS is an idea the Toymaker would throw away,” the Doctor spits out with disdain as you three stride down the hallway. He continues, “We’ve stepped inside his domain, and it’s governed by the rules of play.” The Doctor turns to the door on his left, confidently opening it. Donna and you follow him, but just as the door slams shut, you find yourselves still trapped in the long, mysterious hallway.

“Okay. Keep going forward,” the Doctor instructs, stepping ahead with you and Donna in tow. Donna, perplexed, shakes her head and remarks, “But how does this even make sense? 'Cause I’ve seen some things with you two. I’ve seen Ood, Davros. I mean, the Adipose, for God’s sake.”

The Doctor twists another doorknob, taking a chance with the door to his left, only for it to transport you three back into the hallway. Donna continues, “But they had a sort of logic. Daleks built a great big bomb. I understood that. But this— this is impossible. How does it exist?”

The Doctor grits his teeth, growling, “That’s what unravels me. All the laws I cling to, gone.” He spins, opening another door only to lead you three back into the hallway. Moving to the opposite door, he finds it locked and slams his palm against the wood in frustration before pressing on down the hall.

Donna moves closer to you two and asks, “Who is the Toymaker? What is he?”

The Doctor turns to face Donna, explaining, “When I was young, I was so sure of myself. I made a terrible mistake. I let the TARDIS fall into another realm.” The Doctor opens a door, and you follow him as he continues, “A hollow beneath the Under Universe, where science is a game and all of us are toys.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath. "It's also how the Stargazer ended up with us, but that's something I will never regret." You softly remark, "A rift in the universe..." The Doctor quickly kisses your forehead, saying, "And it brought me you, my love."

After a moment, the Doctor struggles with another stubborn door, wiggling the doorknob in frustration. "I beat the Toymaker. I won his game, but now he's here. He's found his way into reality."

As he opens the door to the right, leading the three of you back into the hallway, he stills and sighs. "And I think it's all because of me."

You exchange a glance with the Doctor, shaking your head in disagreement. However, before you can utter a word, he cuts you off, his gaze intense. "'Cause I got clever, didn't I? I cast that salt at the edge of the universe. Thought I could have it all," he admits, his eyes locked onto yours. "I thought I could finally have you. I played a game and let him in, an elemental force with the power of a god, and he’s driven the human race mad with a puppet.”

Donna begins, “Yeah, but you always say—” the Doctor shakes his head and mockingly replies as he walks backward down the hall raising his voice, “Oh, what do I say? What do I say? What do I say?”

“‘Cause I’m always so certain. I’m all sonic and TARDIS and Time Lord. Take that away.” The Doctor says and defeatedly shrugs, “Take away the toys. What am I?” He chokes a little as his eyes glaze over, repeating, “What am I now?”

The Doctor looks to you and Donna as he offers a variation of the truth, “I don’t know if I can save your life this time.” The vulnerability in his voice echoes through the corridor, a stark departure from his usual confident demeanor.

Donna raises her eyebrows, her gaze shifting between you and the Doctor. “It’s not about me,” she asserts.

You meet Donna's gaze and respond, “Oh, yes, it is.”

With a nonchalant shrug and a deep breath, Donna begins, “Well,” and then she steps a little forward, flashing a determined smile, “Maybe I’ll save you, you big idiot.” Through the perplexing hallway, the chatter reverberates with a mixture of warmth and friendliness as you all chuckle.

"Anyway, you beat him before," Donna points out, and the Doctor wears a contemplative frown. "That’s the problem. Odd-on I’ll lose next time."

Donna dismisses the notion with a shake of her head. "Nope. Doesn’t work like that. Because my dad used to say, ‘Dice didn’t know what the dice did last time.’ Games don’t have a memory. Every game starts from scratch."

After a moment of letting the words settle, the Doctor nods with a genuine smile. "Oh, I like that. Well said, Dad." He takes a deep breath before suggesting, "Okay. Shall we find the right door?"

The Doctor swiftly dashes to one of the doors, opening them one after the other. You and Donna struggle to keep up, the anticipation heightening. Suddenly, one of the heavy doors slams shut behind Donna, separating you from her. Then the door in front of Donna slams shut, also separating her from the Doctor, the echoes of the closing door lingering in the air. 

You sense your fingernails biting into the palm of your hand, forming a tight fist as you strike the door with the side of your fists. An exasperated cry escapes your lips as you press your forehead against the wooden door. You shut your eyes, tears trickling down your cheeks. Slowly, you lower your hands to your sides, then raise them, placing them at the back of your neck in an attempt to regain composure.

You take a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs before releasing it in a resounding exhale. Pushing away from the door, you continue down the corridor. A distinct pull guides you to a door on the right. Twisting the knob, you pull the door open and step into a room filled with standing mirrors encased in plastic frames. As you survey the surroundings, the door slams shut behind you, making you flinch and glance back.

Turning your head forward, you're met with various incarnations of the Doctor—past and present—alongside friends and companions, all staring back at you through the mirrors. Their gaze penetrates through you. The mirrors shift, forming two opposing lines, resembling portraits guiding you towards a solitary dresser and a seat. On the creaky wooden floors, you move delicately, feeling like a doll as the eyes of your own reflections track your every step down the mirrored pathway.

You eventually reach the dresser, and the seat smoothly pulls out from underneath it. Hesitant, you lower yourself onto it, only to find that your own reflection is not what greets you. Instead, it's the Toymaker, wearing a smug expression as he says, “Ah, yes, the Stargazer. Oh, how I’ve missed you, old friend.”

You cross your arms and raise your eyebrows, “If that’s what you want to call it, sure.”

The Toymaker’s expression shifts to a sour one as his face scrunches up, “We were friends, we had such wonderful games in our little dollhouse until the Doctor stole you away from me.”

You shake your head as you say sternly, “He didn’t take me away from you.”

The Toymaker childishly rolls his eyes as he also crosses his arms, “Admit it. You were happy. Happier to be blissfully unaware of who you are when we were in our universe.”

You shake your head as you feel your eyes glaze over, pressing your lips, trying to steady your breathing. Softly, you spoke, “You were controlling me. You were trying to mold me into something… that had to be exceptional to be worthwhile.”

You sniff as you continue, “You never cared about me or any of it. You only wanted to play your games and win. And the one time I won… I saw your true nature and never let me out of that box.”

You gaze directly into the Toymaker's eyes, inquiring, “How? How did you end up here?”

He tilts his head and smiles, “The Doctor may have cast that salt, but that was just the door. You being here, allowing yourself to exist in this reality, my dear, you were the key. The Doctor merely provided the key, and voila. Here I am.”

The Toymaker shifts before he hums and then says nonchalantly, “Well, this was so much fun… us two friends catching up. We should do this more often.”

You narrow your eyes as you shake your head, “Don’t you dare hurt them.”

The Toymaker grins, “Well, what’s the fun in that?”

The room around you seems to blur as a heaviness settles in your chest, the weight of your choices and the consequences of your time with the Toymaker bearing down on you. The mirrors that once reflected various versions of yourself, your friends, and the Doctor now seem to mock your vulnerability.

Your face shifts to anger as you grab your sonic screwdriver, raise it to the mirror, and press the button, causing the illusion to shatter. There is no glass in the mirror because, on the other side of it, is you—freed from the false reflections that sought to define you.

You rise from your seat, hastening as the glass mirrors rupture behind you, fragments and shards soaring through the air. Grabbing the doorknob, you wrench the door open, hurtling into the hallway just as the door behind you slams shut.

Anticipating the impact of the hard hallway floor, you're surprised to find yourself enveloped in sturdy arms, the familiar texture of the Doctor’s coat reassuring. "Whoa! Darling, there you are," he exclaims.

Speechless, you encircle him with your arms, finding solace in the warmth he provides. He eases back, cradling the side of your head, and you yield to the touch, trying to ground yourself in the reassurance that you're still alive, still breathing. Life may have presented challenges, love may have left its mark, and certain experiences may have etched an ache in your soul, yet, you survived.

The Doctor scans your face and says, “You’ve been crying. What’s wrong? What happened? Did he hurt you?”

You sniffle as you shake your head frantically, “No, I’m just… I’m sorry.”

The Doctor frowns, “What for?”

“It’s my fault. All of this is my fault.”

“No. I cast that salt—”

“Yes, but since I’m here, in this reality. I allowed him to exist here as well. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

The Doctor pulls you in closer, tightly wrapping his arms around your frame as he asks, “Did he tell you that?”

You merely make a squeak as you nod into his chest, “It makes sense—”

“No. It’s— I refuse to believe it. I won’t.”

You began, “But—”

The Doctor pauses, his gaze softening, and he says, “No, my love. It's not your fault. Don't let his games mess with your mind. We'll figure this out together.”

You let go of your ghosts and your worries for once. It was just one step, but it said plenty. That you've been cut off from the outside world for such a large portion of your existence dawns on you. That you devoted so much of your life to a version of existence that was cut off from believing in the good and the beautiful as a means of survival, that you tried so hard to shield yourself from the love you so desperately needed.

You knew that you wouldn’t find a love that was perfect, but you found a love that was real. The kind that sees you and brings down your walls, that asks you to share parts of your soul you have tucked away and kept hidden from the world.

Suddenly, the creak of another door opening startles both of you, prompting a swift turn of your heads. Your heart skips a beat as you spot your fiery-haired friend. You exclaim, “Donna!”

“Oh, my god!” Donna exclaims, and the Doctor responds, “There you are!” As you eagerly move forward to embrace Donna, the room undergoes a rapid metamorphosis, transforming into a puppeteer theatre, with the Toymaker standing at its center.

Fanfare resonates in the background through concealed speakers as the Toymaker speaks in German, “Kommen Sie, kommen sie!”

Three chairs materialize from behind you, smoothly rolling forward and obliging you to take a seat upon them as they advance towards where the Toymaker stands.

"The show is just beginning. Worldwide premiere," the Toymaker announces, vanishing momentarily only to reappear behind the puppet theatre at the center. He addresses Donna Noble, "This is for you. Let me tell you what happened when the Doctor, he was leaving you."

Lifting the cross brace of the string puppet, he continues, "He met a friend called Amy Pond. And he loved Amy Pond." The strings sway as he manipulates the Amy puppet. "Yes, he be liking die redheads." A playful wink is followed by, "And they went to and fro in time und space."

The Toymaker's tone darkens as he narrates, "But Amy Pond was touched by the Weeping Angel. And she died." He grabs a large pair of scissors, severing the strings of the puppet, rendering it limp and lifeless.

The Doctor's expression turns grim and angry as he grits his teeth, "She died of old age."

Quickly shifting to an American accent, the Toymaker mockingly remarks, "Well, that’s alright then."

Continuing in his vibrant German accent, the Toymaker orchestrates the descent of a new puppet onto the stage, "Und then he was meeting Clara. Mmm." He adds, "But she was killed by a bird." Another snip of the strings leaves the puppet limp and lifeless.

The Doctor growls, "She still survives in her last second of life."

"Well, that’s alright then!" The Toymaker replies in his mocking American accent.

The Toymaker continues in his vibrant German accent, placing another puppet on the stage, "Und then the Doctor met Bill." Strings are pulled as he continues, "Not Stooky Bill, but lady Bill. But she was killed by the Cybermen." With a snip, the puppet falls to the floor, lifeless.

The Doctor's lip trembles, jaw set, as he asserts in a raised tone, "But her consciousness survives."

"Oh, well, that’s alright then!" The Toymaker retorts once more in his mocking American accent. He then transitions to a new scene with stars and planets descending, connected with strings. Cutting the strings, he comments with feigned remorse, "Und then there came die Flux. Oh, Donna Noble, the poor Doctor." The Toymaker continues to sever the strings attached to the planets, remarking, "Die Flux was killing everything."

"Is all of this true?" Donna asks in disbelief, leaving you frozen and unsure of what to do or say.

The Doctor abruptly stands up, his gaze locked onto the Toymaker's eyes as he lowers his tone, the gruffness evident, "I challenge you to a game."

The Toymaker's expression drops, his nostrils flare, and he strides toward the table. The Doctor meets him at the other end, and they lock eyes, a tense silence enveloping them.

The two of them settle into seats across from each other as the Toymaker mysteriously conjures a deck of cards. In a refined British accent, he declares, “I accept the challenge.”

The Doctor retorts, “You have no choice.”

With an air of a magician, the Toymaker skillfully shuffles the deck of cards, his hands moving with deliberate precision. "I came to this universe with such delight, and I played them all, Doctor." The Toymaker lays down the cards in a line, maintaining his magical flair. "I toyed with supernovas, turned galaxies into spinning tops."

He holds the two halves of the deck and continues, "I gambled with God and made him a jack-in-the-box." Flipping the cards, he shuffles the deck, his eyes locked onto the Doctor's. "I made a jigsaw out of your history. Did you like it?"

"The Master was dying and begged for his life with one final game. And when he lost, I sealed him for all eternity inside my gold tooth." The Toymaker says, a sly smile accompanying the gesture to his shiny gold tooth. However, his tone turns grave and haunted as he continues, "There’s only one player I didn’t dare face. The one who waits."

Both you and the Doctor furrow your brows, and the Doctor questions, “Who’s that?”

The Toymaker's gaze becomes distant as he recalls, “I saw it. Hiding. And I ran.”

“What do you mean?” The Doctor presses, and the Toymaker shakes his head, “Mmm. That’s someone else’s game.” Placing the deck of cards neatly on the table, he asks, “What shall we play?”

“One request. Tell me,” The Doctor starts, his tone curious, “The human race, back in the future. Why does everyone think they’re right?”

The Toymaker smirks knowingly and replies, “So that they win. I made every opinion supreme. That’s the game of the 21st century. They shout, they type, and they cancel. So I fixed it. Now everybody wins.”

“And everyone loses,” you remark, your eyebrows furrowing in contemplation. The Toymaker smiles, acknowledging the truth, “The never-ending game.” He then turns to the Doctor, prompting, “Now name your challenge.”

“The simplest game of all. Let’s cut,” the Doctor proposes, and the Toymaker grins, “Highest card wins.”

“Aces high,” the Doctor asserts.

“You choose,” the Toymaker replies.

“I’ll go first,” the Doctor declares.

Then Donna interjects, “But he’ll cheat.”

You, the Toymaker, and the Doctor quickly disagree, simultaneously stating, “No.” The Toymaker's face turns sour, offended by the accusation, “Shame.”

“That’s the one thing he won’t do,” the Doctor asserts, and Donna points out, “But they’re his cards. He’s all tricks. Of course, he’ll cheat.”

You then explain, “The only rules the Toymaker follows are the rules of the game. They bind his entire existence. The Doctor wins or he loses, and that’s it.”

The Toymaker glowers at the Doctor as he says, “Then play.”

The Doctor seizes the top deck of cards, turning it to reveal the Eight of Clubs. A sinking feeling creeps into the pit of your stomach as you calculate the odds, not liking the prospects for the Doctor.

The Toymaker raises an eyebrow with a smug expression, “My turn.” He grabs a portion of the deck, turning it to reveal the King of Hearts. Gripping the sides of your chair, you feel a sense of dread as the Toymaker laughs, “I’m the King.”

Switching back to his German accent, he declares excitedly, “Und now, meine kleine Doctor, we will see what is my prize!”

The Doctor responds, “One… all.”

A light laugh of relief escapes you, realizing the Doctor had a backup plan in case he lost. Leaning across the table, the Doctor's words make the Toymaker's expression drop, “I won the game many years ago. You’ve won today, which leaves us equal. And you know two players are bound by one inviolable rule.”

The Toymaker sneers as he begrudgingly admits, “Best of three.”

The Doctor nods, “Best of three.”

The Toymaker purses his lips in annoyance, narrowing his eyes before saying, “Then let’s make it 2023.” He suddenly pulls a curtain from the side, quickly vanishing as the red velvet cloth clatters to the floor. The room transforms, and you hear the creaking of wood.

Both you and the Doctor exclaim, “Donna!”

Donna has already sprung from her chair, responding, “I’m already running!”

As you run, the structure behind you collapses in on itself, the scratching and groaning of wood as it folds in the hallway. Eventually, you make it out of the shop, running into the streets and stopping from across the street to see the entire building fold itself neatly into a box on the ground.

Donna points out, "He said 2023," and the Doctor responds as his chest puffs out a breath, "Winner takes all."

UNIT HEADQUARTERS, LONDON — DAY, 2023

Once the TARDIS had landed, you and Donna hurriedly followed the Doctor, who carried the box containing the Toymaker's shop. As you reached the main area of operations, the Doctor placed the red box on Melanie's desk and instructed, "Keep an eye on that."

Stepping up on one of the desks, the Doctor addressed everyone in a loud tone, "The satellite was only a link in the chain, so Donna needs access to the subframe. There is no one in London faster on a keyboard. She’s creating a template for this." He produced a flash drive and explained, "It coordinates all telescopes and satellites and deep-space scans across the Earth." Tossing the flash drive to Shirley, who deftly caught it.

Turning to the Vlinx, the Doctor requested, "The Vlinx, I need all mesh reflectors on Earth translated to digital five."

As Donna worked on the keyboard, Mel replied to Donna's question, "Dynamic. We’re using triad."

Donna nodded in understanding, typing rapidly, "Got ya. Okay, so you should all be receiving this now."

"How bad is it, Doctor, Star?" Kate asked with concern. The Doctor responded with a warning tone, "Something entered this world in 1925. I don’t know how. And I warn you, this thing can get from 1925 to now like stepping through a door."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and continued, "But if we’re lucky, the program the Stargrazer created can detect the decay of an energy signature from 98 years ago. Might be on Earth. Might be in orbit. Might be in space. But if we can find the entrance, maybe we can turn it into an exit."

"What are we fighting?" Kate asked, and you responded grimly, "An elemental force beyond the rules of the universe."

Shirley then inquired with a puzzled tone, "What’s that supposed to mean?"

The Doctor gave her a look and explained, "You think life is a balance between order and chaos, but the universe is not binary." As the Spice Girls' "Spice Up Your Life" began playing from somewhere, he continued, "Far from it. There is order and chaos, and then there is play." Pointing to the ceiling, he asked, "What’s that?"

"Could you turn that off, please?" Kate requested, and Melanie, standing from her chair, asked, "Who is that?"

The Doctor groaned, "Oh, I think he’s here."

The Toymaker entered the scene like a Broadway hurricane, dressed as a band leader with his hair curled and styled. A door suddenly appearing with the bell jingling as he strutted forward. Confetti popped, lights flashed, and the Toymaker lip-synced to the Spice Girls' song playing from an unknown location.

"When you're feelin' sad and low

We will take you where you gotta go"

The door materialized behind you, the bell jingling as the Toymaker stepped out, dancing and lifting his hat, grooving to the music. You and the Doctor stood there, unimpressed, wearing a fed-up expression.

The Toymaker, immersed in the infectious beats of the Spice Girls, continued his impromptu performance. With infectious enthusiasm, he teleported across various areas of the headquarters, seamlessly syncing his lip movements to the lyrics of the song. His dance was a spectacle of exaggerated expressions, capturing the vibrant spirit of the Spice Girls' anthem.

As the music echoed through the room, the Toymaker made flamboyant movements, teleporting next to Shirley. With flair, he held up a phone, lip-syncing passionately to the lyrics.

"Smilin', dancin', everything is free

All you need is positivity"

The Toymaker's energetic dance moves and lively expressions added a surreal touch to the otherwise serious atmosphere of the operation.

“Colours of the world

Spice up your life”

Teleporting with theatrical finesse, he continued his spirited performance, engaging with the song's upbeat tempo.

“Every boy and every girl

Spice up your life”

The Toymaker, a delightful force of whimsy, twirled and danced with infectious energy, infusing the tension-filled room with an unexpected burst of joy.

“People of the world

Spice up your life

Aah

Slam it to the left

If you're havin' a good time

Shake it to the right

If ya know that you feel fine

Chicas to the front

Ha ha (uh uh)

Go round”

With each step, he appeared and disappeared, dancing effortlessly to the rhythm. In a sudden move, the Toymaker materialized next to Kate, seamlessly incorporating her into his lively dance. However, the exuberant twirl proved too much, and Kate, spun too fast, and collided with a wall.

Undeterred, the Toymaker vanished and reappeared beside Melanie, pulling her into an impromptu dance as UNIT soldiers point their weapon at him.

“Slam it to the left

If you're havin' a good time

Shake it to the right

If ya know that you feel fine

Chicas to the front”

The Toymaker spun Melanie like a spinning top, prompting your alarmed cry, "Melanie!" Both you and the Doctor rushed to her aid as she tumbled to the ground, the unexpected dance taking an unforeseen turn.

"La la la la la la la la la

La la la la la la la"

Kate regains her composure, brushing off her slacks with a determined air as she commands the UNIT soldiers, "Detain him!"

In response, a contingent of UNIT soldiers swiftly advances, attempting to apprehend the whimsical Toymaker. The Doctor's warning echoes in the air, “No, don’t!” However, defying the Doctor's urgent plea, the Toymaker playfully taps the soldiers, transforming them into vibrant, bouncing balls that clatter across the floor.

"What happened to them?" Kate urgently inquires, and you, wearing a grimace, shake your head, "They're dead. I'm sorry. Just stop it. Let me talk to him."

The Toymaker confidently struts down the center aisle among the stations, seizing the attention of everyone. Kate seizes the opportunity and commands the remaining UNIT soldiers, "On my command, open fire!"

"Take him out, take him out!"

Despite the barrage of gunfire from the UNIT troops, the bullets magically transform into a cascade of delicate rose petals, scattering around the office in a surreal display. The Toymaker, reveling in the chaos, gleefully glances atop a table as more rose petals dance in the air.

"Yellow man in Timbuktu

Colourful, both me and you

Kung Fu fighting, dancing queen

Tribal spaceman and all that's in between"

Undeterred, more UNIT soldiers step in, brandishing larger firearms. Kate urgently yells, "Get down!" Yet, instead of bullets, they too unleash a storm of rose petals towards the Toymaker, amplifying the confusion and chaos in the headquarters.

Now seated on the floor, the Toymaker whimsically creates a rose petal angel, moving his arms and legs in a playful display as he swims amidst the never-ending fall of petals, still lip-syncing to the song.

"Colours of the world (Spice up your life)

Every boy and every girl (Spice up your life)

People of the world (Spice up your life, ah)"

As the Toymaker gracefully walks away from the floral aftermath, he makes his exit, singing the last part of the song and forming a heart with his hands.

"Hai, sí, ja! Hold tight!"

With a resounding honk, he disappears into the floor, leaving the bewildered onlookers shaken and utterly confused about the bizarre turn of events.

The Doctor swiftly dashes forward, sliding to his knees with palms pressed to the floor in an attempt to catch the Toymaker, yet the space where he once stood appears empty, as if he were an illusion.

While Donna tends to Mel, you approach the Doctor, who rises to his feet. Kate's inquiry breaks the moment, "Doctor, Stargazer, who is he?"

Breathing heavily, you respond, "The Toymaker."

"How does he do that?" Shirley questions from her wheelchair, seeking understanding.

Ignoring the query, the Doctor directs urgently, "The Vlinx, speed up those scans. I need those results." He then turns to the group, nostrils flaring, and commands, "All of you, search the building. He’s still here. Where’s he gone?"

Soldiers take charge, securing the perimeter, while Shirley persists, "But how does he do it?" The Doctor, resolute, explains in a low tone, "If I told you he manipulates atoms with the power of thought, would you believe it?"

Shirley ponders for a moment before responding, "Is that what he does?"

The Doctor shakes his head, "No. You can’t fight him, Shirley. There’s nothing you can do."

A sudden noise interrupts the conversation—a bell tinkling. Hushing everyone, you urge, "Listen. Listen."

The ringing intensifies. Kate steps towards the automatic door leading to the helipad, and you follow suit. There, on the helipad, the Toymaker stands alone, dressed in an aviator outfit, ringing the doorbell. Kate exclaims, "Oh, my God. He’s got the Galvanic Beam." Reacting swiftly, you and the Doctor rush onto the helipad. The Toymaker sits on the chair of the Galvanic Beam, swinging it as he excitedly exclaims in German, "Achtung, Achtung! Backen Sie."

Kate, Donna, Shirley, and Mel, carrying the box, join you on the helipad along with the UNIT soldiers. The Toymaker continues, with his goggles on and his exaggerated German accent, "Oh, how I am liking this, the gun mit the laser und the bang und the boom."

The Doctor turns back to the group, urgently shouting, "Go back inside! Get back, get back!"

The Toymaker, however, dismisses the idea, insisting, "No, no, no, no, no. Every game is ge-needing an audience, ja."

Now it's your turn to raise your voice, "Get back inside!" Yet, the Toymaker, maintaining his defiance, sternly disagrees, "Und I said nein!" He takes aim at the glass higher up the building, shattering it. The team below reacts with startled cries as you and the Doctor shoot furious glares at the Toymaker.

Removing his goggles, the Toymaker switches to a British accent, calmly stating, "Now we can all have some fun."

Kate steps forward, undeterred and unafraid, confronting the Toymaker with a determined gaze. "Where are my staff? The beam had a pilot, and the armourer and the ground staff. Where are they?"

“I think they're still falling,” the Toymaker replies, and then a faint thud in the distance is followed by the sound of glass shattering.

The Doctor bares his teeth, anger etched across his face as he stomps forward and confronts the Toymaker, “I don't understand why you're so small!” The Toymaker’s face shifts into a frown, his features scrunching up as the Doctor continues his impassioned confrontation, “You can turn bullets into flowers. Think of the good you could do. So tell me why you don't!”

The Toymaker responds with resounding sureness, "You know full well this is merely a face concealing a vastness that will never cease, because your good and your bad are nothing to me. All that exists is to win or to lose."

“And you know full well that I've had many faces, containing something far more,” the Doctor begins. You inch closer to him as he grabs your hand, offering the Toymaker a compelling invitation, “So come with us. Leave this tiny world. We can take your games back to the stars. We can play across the cosmos. We can be... Celestial.”

You watch as the Toymaker’s gaze shifts between the two of you, “The Time Lords, and the Toymaker?”

You nod, extending your hand, “Infinite games.”

A moment of anticipation hangs in the air as you hope for his acceptance. However, the Toymaker's expression shifts to one of indifference as he uses the controller of the Galvanic Beam. Turning to survey London, he begins, “And yet…” The soldiers cautiously retreat as the Toymaker observes the destruction and chaos engulfing the city.

“I have fallen in love with humanity. This world is the ultimate playground. All of the sport, the matches, the medals, the gambling, and the anger, and the children shackled to their bedrooms with their joysticks and their buttons. You make games out of bricks falling upon other bricks. You are exceptional,” the Toymaker remarks, and you signal the troops to halt their advance. The Toymaker gasps, “And then there are the mind games. Oh, the dating and ghosting, the deceit and the control. You make me dizzy. I am in no hurry to leave this place.”

He swivels the turret around, a maniacal glint in his eye as he chuckles, “We can play Grandma's Footsteps.” He gleefully fires at the soldiers' feet, forcing them to hastily retreat, "And Off-Ground Touch."

“Ah! Stop, stop, stop, stop!” You plead helplessly as the Toymaker, a sinister smirk on his face, persists in aiming the Galvanic Beam at your companions. He remarks, "Shooting ducks. Who's up next? The companion? The soldier? The scientist? The orphan?"

The Doctor charges ahead, bellowing and thumping his chest defiantly, "Your fight is with me!" The Toymaker directs the beam towards the Doctor, declaring, "And you owe me! One more ga—"

His words abruptly cease as the Toymaker unleashes the Galvanic Beam, piercing through the Doctor's torso. A gut-wrenching scream escapes your lips, and you desperately attempt to rush towards him, only to be forcefully restrained by Donna and Kate. Helplessly, you bear witness to the Doctor's anguished ordeal.

The Toymaker proclaims, “I played the first game with one Doctor. I played the second game with this Doctor. Therefore, your own rules have decreed I play the third game with the next Doctor.” As the beam deactivates, you extricate yourself from Donna and Kate's grasp, hastening to reach your Doctor who has descended to his knees on the ground. Regeneration energy begins to shimmer around him, and you sniffle as you cradle him close, feeling his feeble arm wrap around you.

Tears stream down your face as you murmur, "Hey, hey... I'm right here."

You sense his touch, brushing away your tears as he utters, "Hello, my sweet Stargazer... I’ve been alone for so long. Oh, how I've missed you." A resonant sniff escapes you as you reply, "I'm so sorry. For running. For leaving. For everything, I’m sorry.”

He softly hushes you, "No. None of that. It's not your fault." A wistful smile gently paints his face. "I love you." You release a sob, "I love you too."

"Marry me?" The Doctor proposes, managing to flash you a boyish grin. You can't help but emit a weak laugh, "Right now?"

"Whenever, wherever you like. Just say yes."

"You already know I’d say yes, you idiot!" you retort.

"Say it, please," he murmurs, and you nod as tears continue to fall from your cheeks, "Of course, I'll marry you. I’ll marry you as many times as you want. As many lifetimes as you want."

As the regeneration energy glows brighter, Donna steps forward, yelling loudly to the Toymaker, “He's not dying alone. You can do what you like to me. I'm going to be with them both.”

“And so am I,” Mel declares, setting the box down and approaching the other side of the Doctor along with Donna.

The Toymaker allows it, nodding, “Handmaidens.”

“It's okay,” Donna says, and the Doctor responds, “It's not dying.” Donna nods in understanding, adding, “I know. But…”

Mel smiles as she interjects, “You're going to be someone else. It doesn't matter who because every single one of you is fantastic.”

The Doctor’s eyes glaze as he feels the regeneration energy glow brighter and stronger, surging throughout his body, “It's time. Here we go again. Allons-y!”

The energy fizzles out, and the Doctor hasn't changed his face, leaving you all blinking in confusion as he lets out an, “Um.”

The Doctor’s brow furrows as Donna asks, “What... What's happening?”

Looking to you, the Doctor asks in an even more confused tone, “Could you... pull?”

With your mouth agape and wide-eyed, you inquire, “Could I... what?” The Doctor looks to Mel and Donna to his left, saying, “And you.”

“What do you mean?” Mel asks, and the Doctor blinks as stands up and replies, “Pull! Just pull each way. I don't know. It feels different this time.” The three of you begin to pull in each way, and the Doctor exclaims, “Ow! Oh.”

Regeneration surges and flares up once more, and out pops the head and shoulders of the new Doctor, number 15. You all gasp in shock, and you're the first to say, “What?”

“What?” Donna and Mel ask in unison.

“What?!” The Toymaker exclaims.

“No way,” the other part of the Doctor exclaims, and your Doctor responds with glee, “You're me.”

The new regeneration of the Doctor smiles, a toothy grin spreading across his face as he says, “No, I'm me. I think I'm really, really me. Oh, ho-ho, I am completely me! Don't just stand there, push!”

Your Doctor poses the question once more, "Do what?" to which his other half retorts, "Push."

"What— Does this work?" Your Doctor questions and the new one responds with a laugh, "I don't know."

They part ways entirely, each now clad in half of the other one's attire. Your Doctor sports the undershirt, vest, and trousers, and is left barefoot. Meanwhile, as far as your memory serves, the 15th regeneration of the Doctor is now adorned in a button-up shirt, tie, sneakers, and underwear. You purse your lips as you try to hide your smile and feel a warmth spreading out your face as you realize your Doctor isn’t wearing any underwear. You decide to pocket that bit of information for later.

A surge of joy and laughter fills the air as the 15th Doctor exclaims, "Hello!" Arms outstretched in a welcoming embrace, he moves towards your Doctor, continuing to laugh, "So good to see you! So good!"

Turning his attention to you, a broad grin decorates his face as he rushes towards you, enveloping you in a warm hug and lifting you off the ground, spinning you around. A yelp of surprise and glee escapes you, and you notice a twinge of jealousy in your Doctor's expression. However, you shoot him a look, a gentle reminder that they are one and the same.

The 15th Doctor lets out hearty laughter before addressing everyone, "Now, someone tell me what the hell is going on here."

"Excuse me. Sorry, but..." Kate begins, and Shirley interjects, "How did that happen?"

"Bi-generation. I have bi-generated! There's no such thing. Bi-generation is supposed to be a myth, but... look at me.” He chuckles and stretches as his joints crack, “Yeah, myth, myth, myth," the 15th Doctor declares with a jolly tone, turning to Mel and inquiring, "Mel, what do you think?"

Mel smiles widely as she gazes at the 15th Doctor, "I think you're beautiful."

Your Doctor furrows his brow, questioning, "Still beautiful?"

"Yeah," Mel responds.

Donna, taking in the new Doctor with a rich deep ebony skin tone, asks, "Do you come in a range of colours?"

To which all the Time Lords reply with a resounding, "Yes."

You hear the Toymaker clear his throat and begin, pointing the beam at the two Doctors, "If I can interrupt... Behold the game of the Time Lords. A dummy who dies and doubles and dies and doubles. I could play this for 100 years. I'll have vast meadows of Doctors dying over and over again, and I'll never get bored because…"

The two Doctors step forward in unison, declaring, "I challenge you to a game."

The Toymaker's face sours, and he tosses his goggles, shifting into a frown. "But there's two of you."

Your Doctor asserts, "I'm the Doctor," and the 15th remarks, "And I'm the Doctor."

Your Doctor smirks, "And according to the rules, you can't say no."

The Toymaker stammers, "But that's cheating."

“How?” both Doctors say simultaneously, and your Doctor continues, “It's your game, and you did this.”

The Toymaker is at a loss for words, stammering, "But…"

Your Doctor smiles, "You doubled us."

“So, who am I marrying then—” You interject, and the two Doctors exclaim, “Me!”

Your eyebrows shoot up, eyes widening in response. "Y’know what, that seems like an issue for later."

The Toymaker interjects, stating, "I accept your challenge." Stepping off the Galvanic Beam, your Doctor commands everyone in a commanding voice, "Get back." In compliance, everyone takes a few steps back.

“Moments like these are a joy, when someone thinks they can outwit the maker of the games. Do you think a grand total of two can cause me to shiver when I've played against the Guardians of Time and Space and shrank them into voodoo dolls? Name your challenge, Doctor,” the Toymaker says, and you mockingly yawn, eliciting a glare from him.

“You said it. The first game ever,” the 15th Doctor states, and your Doctor finishes his thoughts, “The ball.”

The Toymaker conjures a ball from thin air and declares, “Catch? Of course, before we begin, there is one thing to remember. It's a simple game, really, but I think…”

Suddenly, the Toymaker hurls the ball towards your Doctor at an astonishing speed, making contact with his chest just as he finishes his sentence, “…if you drop it, you lose.”

Your Doctor catches the ball, releasing a deep breath, “Nice.”

The ball is tossed around in a flurry. You can only watch as it keeps getting passed and tossed. Eventually, the 15th Doctor throws it extremely far to your Doctor, causing him to tumble and dive to catch it from the 15th.

Your Doctor looks at the 15th with wide eyes, his chest puffing out breaths as he exclaims, “Hey! I'm on your side!”

15th sheepishly replies, “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!”

The game of catch persists, and you nervously bite your nails as you observe the trio. There are numerous extreme throws and catches, accompanied by near misses, until the 15th Doctor imparts enough spin on the ball. It glances off the Toymaker's fingers, tumbling over the building's edge.

The Toymaker pants in disbelief, beginning, "But—"

“We won!” Your Doctor asserts, and the 15th adds, “We did it. Fair game. You lost.”

Attempting to salvage the situation, the Toymaker stammers, “No, but I think you'll find…”

Your Doctor steps forward, declaring, “Best of three. And my prize, Toymaker, is to banish you from existence forever.”

The Toymaker protests, “No! But I'm... It's not…” Suddenly, he starts to flatten and fold, “You can't... But I…” Mel steps forward and brings out the box as the Toymaker yelps, “Not fair. Please. My legions are coming. Argh!” He folds up into a square and drops into the box, which slams shut.

Kate seizes the box by the handles, instructing the soldier, “Take it to the deepest vault and bind it in salt.” The soldier promptly responds, “Yes, ma'am.”

Shirley and Kate disengage their Zeedexes. Kate turns to Shirley, saying, “Shirley, tell Geneva we're in full resus. Tell every base to follow Green Shoot protocols, full liaison.” She then addresses the soldier, “Rudi, I'll want the names of all those staff.”

Your attention shifts to your Doctor, standing at the edge of the helipad. The wind tousles his brown, spiky hair as he surveys the destruction wreaked upon London by the Toymaker. Approaching him, you grasp his hand and offer, “Hey, we did it.”

“But how many died down there?” The Doctor frowns, his tone heavy with sorrow. The 15th and Donna approach, with Donna reassuringly stating, “That's not your fault.”

The 15th points out, “You can't save everyone.”

Your Doctor pouts, “Why not?”

The 15th Doctor pulls both you and him into a hug, soothingly saying, “Come here. I've got you. Yeah? It's okay. I'm here.”

As you let out a sigh of relief, exhausted to the events that occurred. Your mind wanders and you smile. This love will intimately understand you, resonating on certain levels as if it has always existed—a deep-seated yearning your soul has carried, anticipating the reunion with its heart, perpetually poised to return home to the facets of itself discovered in another being. It serves as a poignant reminder that hope can emanate from the fingertips of another human being, nestled within the layers of the uncharted aspects waiting to be unveiled.

You and the group re-enter the building, abandoning the helipad to solitude, save for a lone sentry stationed at the entrance. A faint echo of laughter seems to linger in the air, leaving you with an inexplicable sense of dread resonating from a distant place.

UNIT HEADQUARTERS, SUITE 17, LONDON – DAY 2023

INSIDE THE TARDIS

You observe as the Doctor maneuvers around the console, guiding his other incarnation through the intricacies. "That's the petrolink shatterfy compensator, moved from there to there. Hyperdynes. Er... fluid links, obviously," he explains, his hands deftly pointing out the components.

Your Doctor halts abruptly, stumbling over his words as he gazes at the version of himself standing on the bridge. "And, well, you know... things. But, er... how's it going to work? You and me. This is great, I think. Is it? But... How do we both...?”

“One thing you need in this place is a chair,” the 15th Doctor remarks, and you arch your eyebrows, glancing at your Doctor, who responds, “I'll be all right.”

The 15th shakes his head, emphasizing, “No, you're thin as a pin, love. You're running on fumes.”

You and Donna both sigh in agreement, stating, “That's what we keep saying.”

“I'm just... post-bi-generation,” your Doctor attempts to justify, but the 15th Doctor interjects, “Ha! It's more than that. Our whole lifetime. That Doctor that first met the Toymaker never, ever stopped. Put on trial, exiled, Key to Time, all the devastation of Logopolis.”

“Adric,” your Doctor says with a tinge of sadness, and the 15th nods, “Adric.”

Your Doctor's expression shifts to a sorrowful pout as he reminisces about the days and tragic events. “River Song. All the people we lost. Sarah Jane has gone. Can you believe that for a second?”

“I loved her,” your Doctor admits, and the 15th agrees, “I loved her. And Rose. But the Time War, Pandorica, Mavic Chen. We fought the Gods of Ragnarok, and we didn't stop for a second to say, ‘what the hell?’”

Your Doctor shakes his head, “But you're fine.” He gestures to his newly regenerated self, and the 15th says, “I'm fine because you fixed yourself. We're Time Lords. We're doing rehab out of order.”

You then gently interject, “He's saying you need to stop.”

Your Doctor shakes his head in disagreement, stating, “I don't know how.”

Donna takes a step forward, her words measured, “Well, I can tell you. Cos you know what I did when you went flying off in your blue box, Spaceman? I stayed in one place, and I lived day after day after day.”

“It would drive me mad,” your Doctor admits. You nod in agreement, stepping closer to him, your hand gently holding his cheek. “Same here. I’ll be honest, it was difficult… at first. Yeah. It does. But you keep on going. That’s what makes it special. You won’t exactly know what’s going to happen. And that's the adventure. The one adventure you've never had. Because I've... I've worked out what happened. The Flux caused a reset in the universe, no longer making my entire existence a threat to everyone. Then you changed your face, and then you found me. Do you know why?”

The Doctor is wide-eyed as you gaze into his chocolate brown eyes, and you give him a soft smile, “To come home.”

“Do you mean... he flies off?” The Doctor says as he glances at the 15th Doctor, tears welling up. “But I could never let the Tardis go. Never. It would hurt.”

The 15th Doctor approaches you two and leans against the console, stating, “Yeah, but... bi-generation has never happened before.” An idea begins to form in his mind, “What if...? What if!”

Eagerly, he dashes to the walkway, producing a 'test your strength' mallet. “What if the Toymaker's domain is still lingering? Just for a few seconds more, we're in a state of play. Oh! So maybe…”

The 15th Doctor steps out of the TARDIS, and the three of you follow after him. Shirley and Mel are waiting in the suite.

Excitedly, the 15th Doctor exclaims, “Hey! Watch this, watch this. Watch, watch, watch, watch. Stand back. Stand back. Go on, that's it, Donna. Oh! Wish me luck.”

“What for?” The Doctor asks, to which the 15th responds with a big smile, “We won the game. You get a prize, honey, and here is mine!” He swings at the side of the TARDIS, knocking a second one out. An exact duplicate stands on the left side of the original one.

“Ta-da!” The 15th shows off in a sing-songy voice before whispering to the TARDIS, “I am so sorry.”

Donna expresses with glee, “That is completely nuts,” and the 15th Doctor laughs in agreement.

The Doctor pushes the other TARDIS doors open and looks down. He unfolds a ramp, saying, “Oh, look! Oh, that's not bad. Wheelchair accessible.”

“At last! You finally caught up with the 21st century!” Shirley smiles, laughing.

“Yeah. Go on,” the 15th Doctor says to your Doctor, who steps inside to glance around as you wait outside. After a minute, he walks out, goes into the original TARDIS, and looks around. You watch as the 15th Doctor gives you a wink before stepping inside his TARDIS, and you let out a snort.

You see your Doctor exit the TARDIS and realize the 15th Doctor is missing. “Where is he? Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!”

You follow your Doctor as he pushes open the other TARDIS doors, saying, “You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?”

The 15th Doctor mischievously grins as he replies, “As if I would ever do that. Come here. Come here, come here, come here, come here.” He hugs him and kisses you on the cheek, saying, “Look after him, you know? Now, you three, if you don't mind, there is a great big universe out there calling, and I've got to get going. So off you pop, old man.”

Your Doctor shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes, “Oh. You're the old man. You're older than me.”

Donna nods in agreement, “Actually, that is true. He's younger because you came after him. So you're the older Doctor.”

The 15th Doctor rolls his eyes playfully, teasing, “Okay, kid. I love you. Get out!” He sets the Time Rotor in motion, and Donna rushes out of the TARDIS, yelping, “I'm not doing that again!”

Observing the Doctors salute each other, you hear him say to you, “I’ll see you soon.” Then the two of you exit.

Stepping into Suite 17, the group gathers as the Doctor remarks, “Shirley, I don't suppose you've seen this before. I don't see it often myself. Stand by.”

“Where's he going?” Mel asks, and the Doctor replies, “Everywhere.”

You watch as the TARDIS dematerializes, and you catch the soft whisper of the Doctor, “Good luck.”

DONNA’S GARDEN — DAY, 2023

The TARDIS is parked in Donna’s garden, a testament to the new chapter you and the Doctor were embarking on—cohabiting. Presently, the entire family savored a meal al fresco beneath the pergola adorned with wisteria in full bloom. The Doctor sat beside you, his hand resting casually on your thigh, a constant desire to connect, to be near.

“Right. The cast-iron pot is the vegan. Ta-da! And the one with the flowers is the chicken,” Shaun declares, placing the dish on the table. You hum and nod, and Shaun adds, “I think.”

Sylvia chimes in, pointing to the dish, “And this is cauliflower cheese, which doesn't really go with anything, but it was there.” Rose nods as they begin to take their seats.

Donna raises a hand, signaling for attention, “Anyway, shush, please, for the eyebrow story.”

“Oh, yes. So... this species only communicated with their eyebrows. I thought, I can do that,” the Doctor says with an unusually happy tone, a rare occurrence that visibly lifts the weight from his shoulders. He sits straighter, and with a flourish of his eyebrows, he continues the story, “So I'm stood there on this clifftop and I went... ‘I mean you no harm. I come in peace. I am your friend.’”

“Am I late?” Mel's voice breaks through, and you lift your head to see her sheepishly saying, “Sorry. The door was open. You don't mind?”

Sylvia dismisses her concern, cooing, “Oh, you're family, darling. Sit down.”

You glance at Mel and ask, “Did you drive?”

“No. I got a lift off a zingo,” Mel replies as she takes a seat next to you, prompting cheers and laughter from the group.

“A zingo!” Donna exclaims, and Sylvia smiles, “Oh, how strange.”

The Doctor continues his eyebrow-raising tale, “So, she looked at me, the Warrior Queen of the Felooth, and she said, ‘Good. And now... you will marry me.’ I said, ‘What?!’ And she pushed me off the cliff!”

Sylvia leans in over the table, asking, “But is it true, though? Is it really true?”

The Doctor looks to you, humming and shrugging, “Mmm…” You playfully shove his shoulder, and he kisses your cheek.

“We could always go in the Tardis and find out,” Rose suggests, but Shaun interjects, “Don't you dare.”

Donna sternly tells her daughter, “You are grounded until the Doctor feels better. Don't go sneaking off to Mars.”

“Again,” Rose says, and Donna goes wide-eyed, asking, “What does that mean?” She pointedly looks at the two of you.

“Oh, no. It was just once. Oh, you're in trouble,” the Doctor says, and you wince.

Mel explains, “They took me to New York last week. The Gilded Age. It was amazing.”

The Doctor shrugs, “Well, yeah. We just can't turn down my favourite niece.”

Rose smiles, “Ah! Niece. I like that.”

“Well, that's what you are. With my best friend, my brother-in-law, the evil stepmother…” The Doctor says, and Sylvia chuckles, “Oh, I have barely begun.” The Doctor continues, “..and Mad Aunty Mel.”

Mel chuckles, “Mad Aunty Mel!”

You all toast happily, exclaiming, “Mad Aunty Mel!”

The Doctor then places down his glass before lifting your left hand, now adorned with a gold band inscribed in Gallifreyan. He kisses your knuckles and says lovingly, “And of course, my soon-to-be wife.”

You can’t help but smile as you look at him. With him, you just open. The cost of staying fortified and hidden away becomes too high. With the Doctor, you lay down your arms. You let love rush in. You let it wash over you. You crack your shell, exposing your heart to this world, trusting that you are worthy of being seen there.

The Doctor then remembers, “And Grandad! Where is he?”

Sylvia says, “Oh, he's off shooting moles.”

The sound of a shotgun resonates, and you hum as the Doctor says, “Don't worry, I gave the moles a forcefield. I love the moles.”

Donna raises her eyebrows, asking, “You love the moles?”

The Doctor grins, “I love them. But here we are, Grandad and all. Who'd have thought? I ended up with a family.”

You feel the weight of his words settling in the cracks of your bones as your hearts thump in the silence. You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling him kiss the top of your head.

Shaun suddenly exclaims, “Oh, my God, I got it wrong. The vegan one is in the flowers.”

Rose groans, tossing her fork on the plate, “Urgh! What am I eating?”

“Oh... Don't worry.” Shaun tries to help. “We'll just… give it to Grandad.” Sylvia adds, “Don't make a fuss. Pass me your plate.”

Donna looks between the two of you, smiling as she says, “You don't have to stay forever.”

The Doctor glances at you, and you smile up at him, saying, “We'll see.”

“Do you miss it? Out there?” Donna asks.

The Doctor looks around, realizing he’s surrounded by love as he says, “The funny thing is, I fought all those battles for all those years, and now I know what for. This. I've never been so happy in my life.”

This love infuses honey into the core of your being; it's akin to a gentle warmth seeping into the very marrow of your bones. Witnessing how it learns about you, fights on your behalf, and remains steadfast through life's storms by your side, you're reminded of the profound connection often overshadowed by the preference for distance over depth in this world. It's a reminder that hope emanates from the touch of another, concealed within the layers of undiscovered facets. You now comprehend that love was always intended to be gentle, always meant to be tender, as evidenced by the Doctor intertwining his fingers with yours, accompanied by a bright grin. Your bones are safe, and your heart can rest assured it belongs to him. Your world transforms, cradled by the comforting embrace that is the Doctor.

“So,” Donna begins as she chews her food and swallows as he smiles at her best friends, “When’s the wedding?”

TAGLIST:

@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @matthew-lilards @a-dash-of-cinnamon @imthedoctorlove @scoliobean @allophonicmess @mirkwoodshewolf @jaziona92 @melloww-akira @crowleythesexydemon @pedrettilov3r @nsainmoonchild @h-l-vlovesvintage @jaziona92 @1potato2rulethemall @jesssimblrorwhatever @prettyboigenius @ladygrimmx

[nouies]

hello and welcome to the first fic rec of 2024 featuring my favourite works from what i’ve read during the past weeks. as always, please check tags before reading. if you liked the fics please reblog their posts, leave kudos and write a nice comment. happy reading! rec tag | more rec lists

— harry/louis —  

໑ Red Wine/Long Nights by lucky28 (G, 1.3k, strangers to lovers, infidelity, fluff) When Louis goes to surprise his boyfriend with an unexpected dinner date, he's nothing but excited. That is, until he runs into his boyfriend's boyfriend along the way.

໑ Abundance by @rockstarlwt28 (M, 1.7k, established relationship, breastfeeding, failure of conception, fluff) The Tomlinson-Styles' family are blessed with their own Christmas miracle, Tallulah Jay. A lifetime of happiness follows her birth, her mother, Louis and father, Harry are instilled with hope and an abundance of love to double their already blossoming marriage.

໑ make my wish come true by localopa / @voulezloux (NR, 2.4k, friends to lovers, flat mates, christmas, angst with happy ending) the one where all harry wants for christmas is lou

໑ heaven in these sheets by @thepolourryexpress (E, 3.5k, established relationship, bunny hybrid louis, pwp, fluff) Bunny Hybrid Louis has it out for his boyfriend’s phone.

໑ powerless (and i don't care) by localopa / @voulezloux (E, 4k, established relationship, canon, fluff, slight angst) everyone on tour calls each other daddy, don’t ask why. and louis is so used to calling everyone “daddy” that, when he finally comes home, naturally he calls harry that.

໑ now you hang from my lips by teenytinytomlinson / @hs3lt2 (E, 6k, red herring, implied cheating, read tags and author’s note) Louis goes out and finds exactly what, or rather who, he’s looking for at the hotel bar.

໑ You're like a Sponge (Abrasive and Colorful) by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (T, 6.5k, coworkers, university au, hate to love sort of) Louis's flirts look an awful lot like insults.

໑ Behind Smoke Stained Curtains by @jaerie (E, 19k, strangers to lovers, a/b/o au, truckers, secret identity, one night stands) The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

໑ i feel like this is the beginning, though I've loved you for a million years by puppyvirvinloui (spanish, NR, 22.8k, established relationship, marriage, sunshine/grumpy, trophy wife louis, pregnancy) Louis quiere un bebé, no está muy seguro de que Harry quiera lo mismo.

໑ sunshine (you temptress) by @petitommo (E, 26.8k, acquaintances, complicated relationships, age difference) Harry had everything he'd ever wanted in life. Well established, in love, and on the very precipice of the rest of his life, everything goes wrong. The road forwards is paved with difficult emotions, firm denial, and a complicated relationship to the strange teenager he'd snorted coke off of that one eventful night at the club.

໑ the mountain between us by happilylarry (NR, 31k, strangers to lovers, plane crash, surgeon harry, photographer louis, injuries, angst) Harry is a surgeon and stranded at Salt Lake City International Airport. He is to perform a surgery in fourteen hours in Boston. Louis is a journalist and stranded at Salt Lake City International Airport. He is to be married in ten hours. They decide to charter a private airplane to Denver, where they will get on their respective flights and part ways.

Or so they thought.

໑ You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (T, 32.7k, co-workers, advent fic, library au, christmas, fluff, humour) Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is.

Oh, and the guy who works in conservation at the other end of the building is the most beautiful man Harry's ever seen, even when wielding a hot iron as a weapon.

Happy Christmas, here's to many more.

໑ I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours (T, 34k, strangers to lovers, advent fic, coffee shop au, barista louis, baker harry, food, american au) Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype.

It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words…and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

— rare pairs —

໑ for the rest of my life (for the rest of yours) by localopa / @voulezloux (louis/zayn, M, 1.5k, exes with benefits, canon au, song fic) zayn and louis are exes. they still sleep together.

[differentclasss]

Christmas One Shot ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Neil Lewis x Reader

pairing: Neil Lewis x reader

summary: Neil throws a party at Gumshoe and admits his feelings towards y/n.

warnings: smut 9 (a handjob) and not really proofread writing. Neil is a little cringe in this lol. Probably not in character

a/n: I wrote this so quickly but I just wanted to get something out for the holiday! Also, send me requests! I have some free time so I'll probably start going through those again.

Honestly, you would’ve spent Christmas alone if it wasn’t for your friend Neil deciding to throw a last-minute watch party of It’s a Wonderful Life at Gumshoe Video that day. It was the most in spirit of the season activity you had done that December with the whole idea of Christmas spirit being a little lost on you recently. You didn’t know why you lacked the usual zeal compared to Christmases of years prior but the whole month of December just seemed like any other month. It was true, you were getting older but even so, you normally had at least a little bit of enthusiasm for this time of the season. You pushed these thoughts away, however, telling yourself you would at least have fun at the small gathering at Gumshoe. You would work for free every once in a while too at Gumshoe, when your schedule was free, so you knew everyone there. It would be fun, the same ensemble as usual all planning to go.  Neil was the planner of this whole thing too, which truth be told was the entire reason you were even going. You had a small crush on Neil, he was cute, and it was hard for anyone not to find him cute. He was the type of cute that would make you do something really stupid if you weren’t careful, which is why you admired him from a distance, only ever playfully flirting with him but all around keeping it pretty friendly. 

Christmas day came and you slept in, no reason to get up early with your work being closed that day and the watch party being at six in the evening. Eventually, four rolled around and you spent a bit of extra time getting ready, you told yourself you just wanted to dress up for the holiday but deep down you knew that attention-seeking part of yourself wanted to impress Neil, even in the slightest. Off you went, donning what you considered a festive outfit and grabbing a bottle of wine as a party gift, not wanting to show up empty-handed. When you got to Gumshoe you took note of all of the decorations in the windows. There were twinkling lights and a few cardboard cut-outs with those cheap Santa hats draped over their heads. You thought if anywhere could offer you single-use Christmas spirit, this would be the place. 

After making your rounds of brief catch-ups with some of your fellow regulars, you spot Neil. He’s over by the television, fussing with the VHS player. He curses under his breath as he clicks the on and off button a few times and waits for something to happen. 

“Is it broken?” You ask, appearing over his right shoulder.

 

“I hope not.” He mumbles. “Before you ask, I already unplugged it and plugged it back in and I’ve been pushing the on-off button for five minutes now.”

“It’s old,” You say and crotch down to the player's level. “You try hitting it yet?”

“What?” He asks, looking at you with a bewildered face. 

Without another beat, you lean over and hit the top of it with your clenched fist. Neil looks a bit shocked, maybe a bit afraid that you just broke it completely, but then it turns into a happy grin as the VCR turns on.

“It’s a Christmas miracle.” He says in his charming boyish way. 

“I just earned my wings from that.” You joke back and stand up, then hold the bottle of wine out in front of him. “Oh, here. I wasn’t sure what kind of wine you liked so I kind of eyeballed it but… Yeah. Merry Christmas, Neil.”

“Oh, thank you. Red?” He says with a small grin as he takes it from your hands. “It looks nice… Thank you. Oh! I have a, uh, gift for you too. You’ll like it, come on.” He nods his head to the office and walks in front of you.

 

His office was lightly decorated with a small Christmas tree on the corner of his desk. You watch as he opens a drawer and shifts through it for a minute. He pulls out a crudely wrapped small box, the same shape as a VHS, you can’t help but blush at the gesture. He hands it to you and you take it, looking at his poor gift-wrapping abilities. It’s sweet though, making you feel a little guilty about buying him a meager bottle of wine. He tells you to unwrap it and you do, pulling the wrapping apart revealing a tape of Vivre Sa Vie, you had been looking for it for months now and that pesky blush just got worse from the sentimental gift.

“Neil,” You say and look up at him. “You didn’t have to do this… Thank you so much. I’ve wanted for this ages now.”

“Don’t mention it.” He waves his hand. ���I know you’ve been looking for it and you’ve been such a great help here lately.”

“Thanks.” You say again and smile. You want to lean in and kiss him on the cheek but you decide against it. “Well, we should probably go out there and start the movie, yeah?”

He nods and you both take your leave into the main floor of the shop. You sit down on the couch and watch as Neil does a small introductory to the movie like he always does at events like this. After he starts the movie, he opens the bottle of wine pours a glass for himself, and then pours you one. After he hands you the filled glass, he sits next to you and you feel his thigh against yours, making it hard to concentrate on the movie.

Somehow you managed the whole two-hour runtime without dying from some sort of sexually frustrated-related stroke. The wine didn’t help either. You were a little tipsy, Neil having poured too much in your glass, and being near him for so long made it clear to you that you liked Neil a lot more than you originally thought. When the characters Mary and George in It’s a Wonderful Life kiss like they need each other, you find yourself looking at Neil through your peripheral view. Once the credits were rolling, people were starting to get up and either leave or refill their glasses. Neil stood up to say goodbye to some people who were leaving and you could breathe for a moment, not having to feel his thigh against yours. After a moment of contemplation, you decided to leave, it would be the best option with how you were feeling. You knew that he was cute enough to make you do something stupid and with the right amount of wine, you would probably act on it.

“Leaving already?” Neil asked as he saw you put on your coat.

 

“Yeah, it was fun but… I should probably go home and get some sleep.” You said.

“Aw come on, it's not even nine yet…” He said with his best puppy dog eyes. “We were gonna Eyes Wide Shut next. You should stay. What else are you going to do?”

You went back in forth in your head for a moment, but in the end, you knew you were going to stay. How could you deny his pretty blue eyes? He was right, after all, you would go home and probably just watch a movie by yourself. 

“Alright,” You say with a small grin and shrug off your coat. “Just one more movie…”

“Great.” He says and then takes your empty glass. “I’ll get you another.”

You wanted to say no thank you but he was already grabbing the bottle and pouring another, thankfully not overfilling it like last time. Those who were staying, which weren’t many, all retreated to the couch and Neil sat back down next to you after putting the next film in the VCR. You tried to focus all your thoughts on the movie this time but your mind still wandered. You thought of his lips and his hands instead of the movie. 

This film was just as painful as the first, all because of Neil. You swore he moved closer to you while the picture played out. You finished the glass halfway through and decided against another, feeling a little hazy. Amid your hazy and lustful thoughts, you realize more people are leaving and get up to say goodbye. After you say your farewells, you realize it’s just Neil and you in the store. You feel awkward and grab your coat.

“Wait.” He said quickly, making you stop what you were doing. “I hate to ask but… Uh, could you help me clean up the place a bit? I just don’t want to have to deal with it tomorrow morning.”

You agree and set your coat down. After all, this will probably only take an extra half hour. You don’t mind spending more time with Neil either, you’re just worried you’ll ruin the friendship, despite not knowing him that long. You start by picking up any cups and he starts to sweep. You offer to mop but he says he’ll do it tomorrow. It ended up only taking twenty minutes and you both are okay with the results. It’s not spotless, but it will do for now. You stand next to him after you finish and then look up at him.

“I had a great time tonight, Neil.” You tell him. “And thanks for the tape. I don’t have to return this one, right?” You joke.

“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head. “I hope you like it.”

“I will, I’m sure of it.” You say. “Well, goodnight.”

“Wait.” He says and lightly grabs your bicep as you start to walk away. “I don’t know if it's the wine or the whole "sentimental-ness" of this holiday but… You look pretty and I was hoping I could, uh, kiss you.” The way he phrases it makes it sound like a question and you blush at the request. 

“We can chalk it up to the sentimental nature of the holiday and dissect it another day.” You say teasingly and walk up to him. “You’re in luck though, I’ve been thinking about kissing you for a while.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He puts his hands on your waist and kisses your lips at first softly, but then much rougher as it goes on. You both stumble for a moment as you try to find a solid surface to lean on. He lands on the back of the couch, leaning on it as he pulls you closer in your kiss. You try to keep up his kisses but they seem too quick to try to find a tempo. He squirms as he kisses you sloppily. His hips rut against you as one of his hands holds the small of your back and the other settles on the back of your neck. 

“You’re so pretty.” He mumbles between kisses. “Ever since I met you I wanted to kiss you like this.”

You can’t think of anything to say except little moans of praise. Your hand slinks between the two of you and finds his fly which you unzip and sneak your hand into. He grunts as you palm him through his boxers and eventually, pull him out. Your hands send shivers down his spine. He had thought about this for ages, how you would be in such an intimate moment. He never thought you would be so willing and so open to the idea of pleasing him like this. He keeps grunting into your mouth as your hand works up and down his cock, pre-cum spilling from the tip and on your hands. Based on how sloppy his kissing is getting, you don’t think he’ll last long. 

You kiss him harder and apply more pressure to his hand job, making him whine as his breathing gets shallower. His hips start to buck into your hand, wanting to get as much pleasure as he can through you. You think for a moment to bend down and replace your hands with your mouth but you like how he kisses you much more. You don’t notice his grip on you tighten before he bites down on your lip and muffles his moan. You feel something hot on your leg through your tights. His breathing slows and he comes to his senses.

“Shit,” He says and pulls back, looking down at the sheer tights you’re wearing. “I’m sorry. I can buy you new ones! I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine.” You giggle and look down at your now-ruined tights. “They were like, two dollars. Don’t worry about it. Just a little gross now.”

“A little?” He asks with an embarrassed laugh. “I’ll make it up to you. How about we go get dinner together this week? I’ll pay, obviously.”

“If you wanted to take me out to dinner, you didn’t have to come on my leg. You could’ve just asked.” You tease and then lean in to peck him on the lips. “I’d like that a lot though. I like you a lot too.”

“I like you too.” He says, blushing at the elementary confession. “Let me get you a towel. I’m sorry.” He adds and retracts from you to go find some way to clean up his mess.

It is probably the weirdest Christmas you’ve had, never before experiencing a love confession or for that much, getting your tights ruined by a guy's cum, but you feel hopeful weirdly. You feel hopeful because of Neil, come this time next year, you’ll be with him you hope. Maybe it’s not the perfect way to start a relationship but it is the start of one. One you’re optimistic about. 

[imrllytootiredforthis]

Christmas Miracles

Pairing: Chan x reader

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve and Chan is still working, no matter how much you try to convince him to take a break

Warnings: Dom reader, sub chan, handjob, use of petnames (good boy, baby, etc), slight exhibitionism, probably more that I forgot

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: This is way, way too reflective on my mental health rn, but really, who needs to actually confront your problems when you can just write an angsty, smutty christmas fic abt them?

That being said, 18+ minors DNI

It’s Christmas Eve.

Christmas fucking Eve and your boyfriend hasn’t left the studio once.

Not for food, not for water, not to simply say hi to you or the others, not for a bathroom or brain break. 

Not once. In fact, you don’t even think he’s taken a break from working at all in there. You know because you check in with him every hour and half.

And-you guessed it!

Every. Single. Time. He’s. Working.

Headphones pulled over his ears, fingers clicking keys and eyes glued to that computer.

And frankly, it was getting frustrating. Frustrating because you and the others have been waiting out here all day, talking, chatting. You’d come a few hours early to the secret santa gift exchange you and Felix had set up, with your gift for Han.

You made sure that you were there extra, extra early. Made sure to give your workaholic boyfriend lots of extra time to finish up his work, giving him periodic warnings every half hour to let him know just how long he had left. 

Every time he’d nod offhandedly, hum in acknowledgement but not really listen before he’d shoo’d you off, saying he knew and that you could stop mothering him.

And so you gave him some slack, getting off his back a bit as he requested, trusting that he would be able to regulate everything by himself. 

And when everyone finally got there, gathered around on the floor, ready for the gift exchange, you stood up and said that you’d get Chan and the activity could commence.

You popped your head into his studio, gently asking if he was ready. “It’s time, you ready? Got your gift?”

He spun around on his wheelie chair, looking at you, confused. “My gift?”

“What do you mean ‘My gift?’, Chan? We’re doing a gift exchange. Everyone’s here, that’s what I’ve been bothering you about for all day!”

Blank. Not a single thought in that pretty head of his.

He did not.

“Huh?”

Your jaw clenched. “You did not. Chan.”

He rubbed at his red eyes, the bags under them prominent from the apparent lack of sleep despite how many times you’ve told him to stop working and get a full proper night of it. 

“Wait-we’re doing a gift exchange-since when?”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “The one that Felix and I set up like three weeks ago! We picked names from a hat!” You paused, remembering the day with a heavy sigh. “No, you weren’t there, but I gave it to you when you got home that night. I even remember-you had Hyunjin. You were asking me what I thought you should get for him.”

He nodded slowly, pursing his lips, eyes not meeting your’s. “...Still don’t know what you’re talking about. I have no memory of this happening.

“I remember, I told you that you were supposed to come up with it yourself, it was supposed to be special that way.”

Running a hand through his unruly hair that didn’t look like he had brushed in a while, he shook his head again. “Look, I don’t know, maybe it just slipped my mind, I don’t remember any of this.”

“Fucking hell, Chan! I told you about this, weeks ago! I told you last week. I told you a few days ago, I reminded you over and over and you told me you had it covered!” 

Finally leaving the doorway you stepped inside, shutting the door behind you, hoping no one else heard the outburst. When you looked back to him, it seemed you had already lost his attention, his eyes turned back to the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Turn off the damn computer and listen to me!”

And that was the final thing to have his headphones coming off, hesitating for a minute over the shut off button before deciding your rage over fighting over this particular thing wouldn’t be worth it.

The screen went black and he turned to you. And it finally hit you, the extent of his overworking.

He looked tired-exhausted, pale and unruly. He looked as if he hadn’t eaten or slept or drank anything in days. 

Rubbing a hand over his face, he groaned. “Look, I’m sorry! I’ve just been so busy with work-”

“And that’s it! All you ever do is work now! You cancel plans to work! We barely spend any time together because you’re working! The others barely ever see you because you’re working! Look at yourself Chan, you don’t look like you’ve even been taking care of yourself!”

“I just need to finish this one project and then I promise-I’ll take a break!”

“That’s what you always say! That’s what you said for the last project, for the one before that and the one before that and that’s what you’ll say for the one after this!”

He opened his mouth, but you cut him off. “You need to take a break and take a break now! No ‘one more hour’, no ‘one more day’, no ‘after this project is finished’! You are going to take a break now and you are going to not look at your computer until after Christmas.”

“But-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” You grabbed his arm, opening the door and pulling him out of the studio for what you could only guess and hope you were wrong was the first time in days.

The others smiled and greeted Chan happily when the two of you walked in. You smiled, pretending you didn’t see the obvious looks of concern passing between the boys. The walls were too fucking thin for this. 

They began shouting exclamations about how they felt like they hadn’t seen their leader in forever, congratulating you for finally being able to get him out the studio for once.

You side-eyed him all the while as he looked down at his feet, rubbing his neck and apologizing sheepishly. 

“Sorry guys, I’ll try to be more...present from now on...”

The others nodded and you clapped your hands together, gaining everyone’s attention with a “Well, anyway...does anyone wanna start this gift exchange?”

Cheers filled the room as you led Chan to the couch, sitting him down before taking your place next to him.

--

The rest of the night was fun, you received a spray bottle from Seungmin, telling you to spray Chan with it whenever he worked for too long. Everyone got a laugh out of that.

Chan got a ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug from Han and you could see him almost getting teary-eyed as he read it, pulling Han in for a hug and thanking him for the somewhat of a joke present.

Hyunjin seemed fine with the lack thereof of a gift but played it up a lot, pretending to be wounded by Chan, grabbing at his chest and falling to his knees in a fake sob of agony.

Truly, you enjoyed it.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d hung out with all the boys and Chan, forgetting sometimes really how close they all were, how well they knew each other and how much more than coworkers they’d become over the years.

You also greatly forgot how loud they all were. 

The laughing and constant clapping to accompany it, things shouted, so unhinged it had everyone laughing from just the absurdity of it.

Several times they got into ‘fights’ that were really just shouting with the escalation of someone trying to yell louder than the other until everything was incoherent screaming. It ended when suddenly the entire thing turned to laughter, all eight boys pretty much rolling on the floor with it while you sat there, very confused and slightly amused by it all.

It was the first time in a while you saw Chan so carefree and happy, so relaxed. 

It was nice to see.

Well, it was nice to see until he wiped the tears from his eyes from laughing too hard and suddenly he didn’t look so relaxed.

He looked tired again, woozy like he might pass out or something. 

You take his hand at look at him with a soft smile. “You good, Channie?”

He nods but his skin has taken on a sickly pale colour. “Yeah, yeah. I-i’m good, I think-I think I just need to go to the bathroom, yeah?”

“Okay...”

And like that he stands up, announcing to the others that he has to go to the bathroom, saying to not wait up for him as he trails down the hall in an almost unsteady manner.

You’re overreacting you tell yourself. You’re overreacting, he knows himself best, he knows his limits. He knows how to take care of himself.

You. Are...Overreacting.

And then he’s gone for ten minutes...

Fifteen...

Twenty minutes. 

“Wait, where’d Chan go?” Han questions, popping his head up from where he lays on the floor, rolling around and gasping for air from something Changbin’s said.

“He went to the bathroom, remember?” Lee Know replies, not even lifting his head up from where he lays.

You sigh, standing up. “I think, uh, that I’ll go check on him.”

They all echo okays and laughter, jokes about how Chan can’t even go to the bathroom in peace anymore, but at this point you could care less about the heckling.

All you care about now is hoping that this wasn’t what you had an itching feeling it was.

That he isn’t doing what you think he is.

But perhaps that’s too much to wish for on this Christmas Eve as you knock on the bathroom door twice, leaning in in wait for his response. “Chan? You okay in there, baby?”

No reply.

“Chris?”

Nothing.

“Chan...I’m coming in, okay?”

You try the handle first, unlocked, then you slowly push the door open, looking in to see...that you were right. He isn’t in there.

He better not.

You rush down the hall, hoping-desperately hoping that you’re wrong and maybe...you don’t know, but hoping that he had some kind of excuse as to why he wasn’t in the bathroom and you’re assuming that he never was.

Well maybe, maybe...he needed to grab something from the studio. Maybe when he went to the bathroom it was already in use, so he went to the one on the other side of the building. Maybe he...went to get fucking take-out...without telling you or the others about it...

They were all lame excuses and you knew they were all wrong as your feet led you to the one place you knew he would be. The one place he would be, doing the one thing you knew he would be doing.

“Chris?”

Your voice is wary, tired as the door creaks, slightly screeching as you pull it open.

“L-look! I can explain!”

And there he was. 

Sitting at his desk, his headphones pulled over his ears, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, on that goddamned computer.

The boys continued to laugh and yell outside but you still close the door, hoping that with their level of sound and the door it would be enough to mute your sounds. 

Your voice is deadly calm when you speak, masking the anger burning inside of you. “Then explain Chan-because I am really hoping right now that you have a good explanation.”

He looks down, hanging his head in shame and you know he doesn’t. “I’m...I’m sorry, I’m trying, I really am...it’s just there’s so much work to do and so little time to get it all done. I wanna take a break, I wanna spend time with you and the boys...it’s just...”

“It’s just what! I get it-you wanna get this finished,” The calm in you is gone, replaced with a near hysteria, shutting your eyes and clenching your fists as your voice rises in pitch. “You feel rushed and you feel as if you need to get it all done as soon as possible but you can take a break! You need to take a break!”

You move toward him, turning that spinning chair so he’s facing you. You take his face in your hands, forcing him to look you in the eye. “This isn’t healthy how hard you’re working! It’s Christmas-it’s a damn holiday and, and you’re working! Do you not understand, do you not hear what I’m saying?”

He opens his mouth, trying to look away but you don’t let him, don’t let up on the grip you have on him. “I-I do, it’s just-”

“No, do you actually hear what I’m saying? Cause Chris, I need you to hear me right now. I need this to cement in your mind, I need you to think and realize that this isn’t healthy! This isn’t good for you and it isn’t good for us and if that’s really not enough of a reason for you, then it isn’t good for the company. They can’t have you passing out on-stage because you haven’t been sleeping or eating or drinking.” 

You drag in a heavy breath. “So, do you actually hear what I’m saying?”

“Yes, yes, I hear you.”

You don’t notice the tears spilling down your face until his eyes are getting watery too and he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him.

He buries his head into your stomach and shakes with heaving sobs. You pat his back, trying to soothe him the best you can as you cover your mouth with the opposite hand, trying to stay silent as you do the same.

And suddenly all of the energy drains out of you. The anger is replaced by pure exhaustion.

You’re crying and he’s crying and you’re clinging to each other, grasping at the comfort the other provides, the small cracks built over the past while finally breaking until a flood is released. 

Everything that’s happened, everything that hasn’t happened, everything that had to be said and everything that didn’t. It’s all there, silent and unspoken in the embrace.

It’s all there and you both understand it without a single word having been said. With just the tears and the touch and the wet spot that you’re sure is staining your shirt now as he buries his head into you. 

And suddenly you’re laughing, watery, hiccupy laughs that don’t really sound like laughs-and nothing going on right now is really funny but you can’t help it-because it’s Christmas Eve and you’re supposed to be happy, and it’s supposed to be the happiest time of the year, bright lights and warmth and family and you’re the exact fucking opposite right now. 

Because you’re both so, so fucking burnt out, so, so fucking tired and you’re both really, really done and all you can really do right now is cry.

You don’t know how long it’s for.

Until the tears run out and you’re staring at the wall blankly, playing with Chan’s hair as he clutches onto you, the waterworks stopped with the after breakdown sniffles present.

You’re not sure and don’t really care if the others heard you but if you strain your ears you can still hear their distant laughter clearly.

“Y-you okay?” You whisper, snivelling in a way you’re sure is unattractive but in all honestly you’re much too far past that at this point.

He doesn’t reply, only pulls far enough away to look up at you with big, sad, red eyes and even redder cheeks...and...oh.

Oh.

He pushes himself against you and you can clearly feel the large bulge pressed up against you as he looks up at you with those big sad eyes.

And now you’re kind of confused.

You’re not really sure what this means.

Now?

After that?

Maybe you’re just reading the context clues wrong but he looks at you and bites his lip, looking away shyly.

You sigh and pull him up off the chair, pushing him over to the couch in the corner of the room. He lands on it with a small oomph, still holding you by the waist and pulling you in close to him.

It’s a weird transition, from what just happened to this. From the tearstains still prominent on either of your faces to whatever this is. Whatever this is turning into.

But if this is what he wants right now, what he wants from you. Well then you’re going to give it to him.

“You’re gonna need to tell me what you need baby. Verbalize it for me.”

He sniffles again. “I just...I really need you right now. Will you just...” He mumbles the last part, turning pink under your gaze.

You sigh, looking at him with gentle eyes before settling against the opposite side of the couch against the arm of it. “C’mere.” 

He scrambles across the cushions to meet you, kneeling between your legs and tilting his head, waiting for you to give him direction. “C’mon baby, turn around,” He follows your lead until he’s sitting between your legs, his back against your chest, your resting chin on his shoulder. “Okay honey, ‘M gonna need you to tell me exactly what you need. Loud and clear so I can hear you.”

He shudders and you can tell he’s struggling to get out the words. “C-can you please...take care of me? Just wanna feel you.”

He paws at the sleeves of your shirt and you can tell what he’s asking for. Another time you might’ve teased him, played a little dumb, asked to elaborate on the request. But neither of you have the energy for that right now, so he’s granted that small mercy.

“Good boy, Channie,” He shivers at the words, squirming as you shift him slightly in order to pull off your own shirt, dropping it onto the floor to find later before feeling at the hem of his. “Can I take this off for you?”

“Yeah,” His voice is small and shaky as you pull it over his head, lifting his arms to make the job easier. And when it’s off and joined your own on the floor you’re already touching him.

You’re touching him and he’s sighing, relaxing, falling so quickly as your fingers graze his abdomen, tracing over his hard-earned abs and pecs, brushing over his sensitive buds. They harden quickly and he’s moaning, breathy little pants falling from his lips as his eyes slip shut-as you continue. Continue to touch and pinch and stroke and grope.

And over everything, it’s your voice that has every last drop of remaining tension in his body melting away, turning him into putty in your hands. Your voice as you whisper into his ear how good of a boy he is, how much he deserves this, how much he deserves everything and more.

He doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to-and he doesn’t. Chan never wants to move from this spot-from this moment-here with you.

Your breath fans over the side of his face, leaving small kisses over his neck between every word. “Does it feel good Channie?”

"Nngh," he whines, not answering the question but this time it’s okay, this time you let it slide, continuing as his breathing quickens, moaning climbing higher in pitch as you gently ask the question again.

“Channie, baby? Asked you a question baby.”

He drags his eyes open just enough to look at you, pulling you against him into a short but sloppy kiss. “So, so good-please-please touch me, need it~”

For once you don’t ask him to clarify, if the bags under his eyes are anything to go by, he deserves this, deserves a break-a reward if you will-after working so hard.

Your hand fall to his hips and he whines at the loss. Chuckling lightly you kiss his cheek. “Patience baby.”

He nods breathlessly and gasps as you push his pants and boxers down, shivering at the cool air meets his heated skin and his cock slaps up against his abdomen. “T-touch me, please-please, need it so ba-”

His breath hitches, voice cutting off as you lick a strip up his neck, dragging your hand over his cock at the same time. You tsk him as he lets out an especially loud moan. “Patience, no need to get all worked up, s’okay.”

His is breath is gone, gone, gone, gone as his thighs reflexively shut at the sudden touch. You coo at him, placing your own legs between them and prying them apart.

His hips rock forward gently as you thumb over his slit, gathering his arousal and using it to slide your hand up and down him easier. “P-please.” He doesn’t know what he’s asking for but the words slip out instinctively, they feel right for the moment, for the desperation and need he feels, coursing, burning through his veins.

Your lips skip across the skin of his neck, nipping and licking at the unmarked skin. Hand starting slow and gaining in pace to match his pulse against your lips, squeezing the base as he loses more and more control of his body. His hips jumping up erratically, noises coming out louder and louder, higher and higher in need. 

“Gotta be quiet, darling, the boys are still outside.” You breath.

He freezes for a second, horror crossing his mind at the thought. But then the way your hand feels...gripping him, sliding up and down him. Sparks of pleasure explode behind his eyelids and all he can do is dig his teeth into bottom lip to keep quiet.

His hand falls to where your’s trails, up and down, up and down his chest, teasing and stroking. He grasps at your fingers, pawing at them clumsily. “N-need you,” He whispers, voice light and airy. Cute. Adorable in the way his body squirms against yours, cock pulsing in your hand. 

A small bead of pre-cum pearls at the tip, spilling over your fingers. “P-please,” he moans. “H-hold, nngh, h-hold my ha-hand.”

Your heart melts and you oblige his request, turning the hand over to intertwine your fingers with his. “Of course, such a good boy for me. Such a good, good boy.”

His body tenses, abs clenching and unclenching as he squeezes your hand tighter, almost painfully but you could care less as you continue, movements getting smoother and smoother due to the arousal leaking. 

He whimpers out loudly, toes curling as his body convulses. “Please-please-please-please, can I cum, can I cum, can I please-please can I cum?”

You hush him, kissing up his cheek, his temple, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“It’s okay. Cum for me Channie.”

With the words his body tenses, breath hitching in his throat as his legs tremble, letting out a high-pitched whimper and, with a last throb, he cums.

Sticky white liquid spills over your fingers as he falls lax into your arms, panting and sweaty. His body’’s energy used up and drained. 

Completely and utterly boneless as you pull your hand away from his and use it pet back his sweaty hair. “How’d you feel baby?”

He sighs, “Great. Really, really great.” His eyelids flutter in a struggle to keep them open. “Thank you.” You hum, watching his eyes finally slip shut, lips pouting up. “Kiss me, please?”

With a small giggle you do, pecking those pouted lips once, twice, smiling while he pouts further, letting out an indignant whine. “Kiss me.”

You heart flutters in your chest and he moans as you claim his lips with your own, softly sliding your tongue into his mouth, kissing him breathless until you have no choice but to pull away.

Glancing over to his moniter on his desk the time shows clearly and you give him one more peck on the nose.

“Merry Christmas Channie.”

Tiredly, he whispers back, eyes already shut. “Merry Christmas, love you so, so, so much.”

You smile, pausing for a moment to hear that the boys outside have gone quiet-probably from having gone home if the time is anything to go by. 

“Love you too baby.” You murmur back, but he’s already asleep, lightly snoring with a slight smile on his lips.

He’s sleeping. Calm and relaxed, and finally, he’s taking a break.

Maybe it is a Christmas Miracle after all.

A/N: My taglist is open now here, hope everyone enjoys this and has a happy holidays!

@imsolovelylovely​, @hobihearteu​, @lino-jagiyaa 

[torchlitinthedesert]

Transcript under the cut.

Paul

"Life had just started to get a bit messy when Linda became pregnant with Mary. Allen Klein [the American business manager] was involved iwtht he Beatles and, over the year, things seemed to get more chaotic and worrying. Then, the miracle: our Mary. The chaos got pushed to one side and all I cared about was being a dad. But there was still a lot of unpleasantness flying around, so in the end I said: "Let's get out of here, go to Scotland and be a family." It wasn't planned, but Mary came at exactly the right time. She changed my perspective to a degree where I could look at what was happening with the Beatles and think, "Does it really matter?"

If you were a dad in the late 1960s, you were part of taht first wave who got involved with the whole process of pregnancy and birth. One afternoon I remember going down to the local Family Planning Association and picking up a booklet called You Are Having A New Baby. I loved reading it: "At this-many-weeks, your baby will be as big as an orange." And then being there at the birth! In my dad's day, that would have been unheard of.

My first solo album came out in 1970 and I decided to use one of Linda's photos of me and Mary on the cover. This tiny head poking out from the inside of my jacket. These days you wouldn't do it because it feels dangerous to put pictures of your kids out there, but back then we weren't bothered. A lot of musical acquiantances warned me that being a dad would change my professional life. You can't take kids on tour, you can't have them in the sutdio. My professional life did change because I was no longer in the band, but I was still writing and recording. For the first Wings tour in 1972 we simply packed a load of nappies and toys and took the kids with us.

Later, when they were at school, I'd have a word with the headmaster. "Look, we'll be away for six weeks and I don't relish the thought of getting a call in Australia saying something happened to one of the kids." The school gave us a list of the lessons they'd be missing and we took a tutor with us, which the kids hated. They saw it as a six-week holiday. Like all parents, we were dreading the rebellious teens, but the most rebellion we had from Mary and Stella was having to listen to Wham! all day long. Looking back, I guess that wasn't too bad.

In 1998 Mary and the kids lost their mum and I lost … Linda. I knew it was my job to be “strong Dad who keeps it together”, but you can’t do that the whole time unless you completely hide your feelings. Eventually my emotions started leaking out. That’s when the roles were reversed and the kids rallied round me. We got through it, but we all struggled because she was the glue that held everything together.

Linda would have been so happy to see how far vegetarianism has come since we started the food business [in 1991]. And now Mary’s continuing the tradition with her own vegan cooking show. Yes, I’m proud of what I’ve achieved musically, but I’m also proud that Linda played such a big part in bringing vegetarian food into people’s homes.

Christmas and new year were a big family thing when I was a kid, so I keep the tradition going. Me and Nancy [Shevell, whom he married in 2011] like to go to Mary’s, the grandkids running around with their new toys. I do it for them as much as me — I want them to experience the same joy I felt at their age. That connection with family is what keeps me sane. I’ve got my fingers crossed for 2022. Like everyone, I’m hoping we’ll get a chance to do some of the things we’ve missed out on, see the people we love. It’ll be nice to have a bit more normality.

Mary

My earliest memories are split between London and the farm in Scotland. The excitement of city life versus absolute solitude. It was still exciting but in a different way: riding ponies, climbing trees, helping Mum in the kitchen. And the sound of Dad’s guitar.

It makes me laugh now, but there were some afternoons when we’d be watching cartoons and Dad would wander over with his guitar. He’d sit down and start playing this beautiful music, messing around with melodies and songs. We’d all give him an evil stare. “Dad, we’re watching telly. Go in the kitchen.” One time he said: “Do you know how many people would love to be sitting here now, listening to me play guitar?” I just shrugged. “But we can’t hear The Wombles.”

Being a vegetarian family in the late 1970s marked you out as different. Everybody said it was all Mum’s idea and she’d forced Dad to stop eating meat, but they did it as a team. I remember them discussing recipes and Dad saying he still wanted something he could slice for his Sunday roast. Mum was always excited about cooking and she inspired me. Dad’s pretty good in the kitchen — he’d make a great sous-chef. If you ask him to sort out the mashed potato, it’ll be the best you’ve ever tasted. He’s meticulous, just like he is in the studio.

Of course people made fun of Mum and Dad for being veggie. They made fun of Mum for a lot of things, saying she wasn’t a real musician, she wore odd socks and charity-shop jumpers. The real problem was that she didn’t fit the mould of the woman they wanted Paul McCartney to marry. They wanted someone who went to all the chichi parties, but Mum was more interested in feeding the animals on the farm.

Mum and Dad insisted we went to the local comprehensive school, which made me feel a bit awkward at the time. I’d be in school for a term, then off on tour. When I came back, all my friends had made new friends. Now, when I look back, I realise what a smart move it was. It kept us grounded.

Dad was almost too enthusiastic when it came to helping with homework. On my own I could knock it off in half an hour but Dad would get out the encyclopaedia, he’d be cross-referencing and drawing graphs. The teachers must have got suspicious when I gave in these ridiculously detailed essays. Dad said education changed his life and he wanted to pass that love of learning on to us.

I look at Dad and think, after all he’s been through, how has he managed to stay in one piece? He has found a way of keeping a level head, no matter what else is happening in his life. My own personal theory — I’ve not talked to Dad about this — is that he needs normality because that’s what inspires him. Real life and real people. That’s where all the music comes from.

Every year that goes by I seem to find a new level of admiration for what Dad has achieved — and Mum too. My husband and I have this game where we try to get through a day without coming across a reference to Dad or the Beatles. What usually happens is that I get to around nine o’clock, then something comes on the radio or I see an ad for the new Beatles documentary.

I do listen to the Beatles at home, but it’s the Wings stuff I play the most. Mum’s not around any more, but when she’s doing her backing vocals I can still hear her and Dad together. There’s a song called I Am Your Singer — that always gets me. “When day is done, harmonies will linger on.”

[martha-anne]

I have a small garden. This is a relatively recent development, and it has been occupying a lot of my thoughts.

Writing about those thoughts here seems like as good an outlet as any.

The garden is looking particularly bad at the moment. Rather than speculating about what I want it to be like, I’m going to write about some things that have already happened and which I am happy about.

These pruned plants - a blackcurrant bush and a rose! I had never pruned anything before (I had never had anything that needed pruning before) and I felt paralysed by my own incompetence at first. I’m very glad to have given it a go. Either I've done it right, or I will have learned something about how not to prune.

Speaking of being paralysed by incompetence, these fenceposts! I knew I wanted to put up some kind of plant support/trellis along the back of this bed, but the task felt utterly insurmountable a few months ago. I had no idea how to go about it, so I did what I always do in such situations and asked my mum for advice. Cue posts, post-spikes, a mallet, and an improvised drive-in tool… I still need to string wires between them, but soon I’ll have a structure to train plants up.

This heap of twigs! These are the prunings from the blackcurrant and rose plants mentioned in the first point. There was not enough space in the compost bin for them at the time, so I’ve left them in a pile over winter. I hope it is a nice home for some appreciative bugs.

The compost! How do I love my compost bin? Let me count the ways.This pile of decomposing matter brings me indescribable joy. Since we started composting cardboard and food scraps we have so little waste to go into the dustbin. The compost is full of worms and all sorts of other life. I like to check on it in the mornings before I go to work.

The pond! I dug this a few months ago, and at the time I remember feeling like it was the first honest day’s work of my life. I got some water plants for free from a local facebook plant swap group. The eventual aim of this pond is to attract frogs to help deal with the slug population - I’m playing the long game. Of course, it will take some time for the ecosystem to stabilise - but already there is life! I was delighted to discover water hog-lice a few weeks ago. It’s a Christmas miracle!

This no-dig lasagna gardening bed! Every online resource said that this kind of bed is better if left for several months before being planted up. I planted mine immediately and the results were not amazing - so I’ve learned something, and this coming year it should be better.

Tulips! I mentally calculated and purchased what I felt was an appropriate amount of tulips for the space. A week later, a visiting friend brought the same quantity of tulip bulbs again as a housewarming gift. Finding somewhere for them all to go was a challenge, but my friend and I managed it together. I’ve now mostly forgotten where we planted them, which will be a fun springtime surprise.

There is so much I want to do with this space and so much I’ve tried which has already failed. I don’t really know much about gardening yet, but in 10 years time maybe I will have figured it out ;) Three cheers for my shabby January garden!

[eureka-its-zico]

After speaking with two doctors yesterday

I'm never felt so lost alone and depressed

Oh no hun 🥹i know you might feel alone right now but listen: YOU ARE NOT!! i‘m a real good listener so if you wanna talk feel free to!! We‘re all here for you even tho we might be only strangers to you (who ofc absolutely adore everything you write for us lil weirdos hehe)

It will get better believe me☀️

Osiyo, Nonnie 🖤

I’ve been having a hard time. I think the hardest part of having lung issues, especially lung issues after COVID, is that nobody knows what they are doing or what to look for.

I was admitted this year for the third time because I caught the common cold. My body literally cannot get sick or it immediately tries to unalive itself. I can’t clean my house (I still do because who else will clean it? lol) I can barely shower or get dressed or even walk from my bedroom to my kitchen on certain days when my breathing is bad. I can’t work. Not sure if anyone knows what it feels like to struggle to breathe (I’m sure some do), but it’s terrifying and painful and my body doesn’t respond to most treatments anymore.

I’ve been dealing with this for four years and every year it gets worse. I’ve finally gone to Stanford, a fancy hospital with fancy doctors, hoping they can help me but they are as lost as my doctors here. I got sent home from the hospital because no one knows how to help me. And yes, doctors tell me that all the time. They don’t know what to do for me except get me stable enough to go home when they know I’ll be back later.

I’m just very tired. I asked about permanent disability from my doctor and he refused. Said he believes in miracles and doesn’t want to believe I’ll always be broken like this even after three pulmonary doctors have stated that very fact. My lungs are collapsing. While it is a sweet sentiment, sweet sentiments don’t pay rent and bills and I can do neither of those.

I am just very stressed. Very tired. Very much heavily depressed. I’ll be ok. Christmas is coming and that means Christmas lights. I’m a slut for lights. 🥰

Thank you for your sweet message and reaching out. I’m sorry this is winded. I probably would say more but I’m sure no one wants to see sad things on their dash 🤣 I how you are well and taking care of yourself with plenty of rest Nonnie. Much love 🖤

[band--psycho]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader- Beaten By A Gingerbread House

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you all have a fantastic day!

I hope youall enjoy my last stroy for my Christmas Writing Challenge! 💛

Prompy-My gingerbread house needs to be condemned

“So, how’s it going?” Natasha asked, leaning against the door frame that was between the living room and the kitchen. 

She’d been trying to let Y/n conquer this battle on her own; but after hearing a fair few swear words leave her lips followed by a very frustrated sigh, Natasha decided to intervene. 

“I think my gingerbread house needs to be condemned,” Y/n groaned, looking at the gingerbread house that had collapsed only moments ago.

“It just keeps collapsing; at this point I think there’s more icing than there is actual gingerbread,” she continued, completely unaware that Natasha was now standing behind her until she felt Natasha’s arms around her waist, her fingers lightly dancing along the waistband of Y/ns jeans. 

Even though Y/n's statement was entirely true; pretty much all of the gingerbread pieces were covered in icing; and Y/n's hands were completely covered in the very icing that was all over gingerbread. 

“You just need to relax malysh,” Natasha cooed softly against Y/n's ear; as Y/n attempted to ignore Natashas soft touches as she once again constructed the gingerbread house, only for it to collapse for umpteenth time. 

“This needs to be finished in an hour and a half, I don’t have time to relax,” Y/n replied; frustration lacing her voice. 

“You’re just gonna make it worse if you carry on though,” Natasha countered softly; placing a delicate kiss on her neck.

That kiss was the first of many that Natasha left along Y/n's neck; some were soft and gentle; others not so much. Y/n knew she’d have a trail of hickeys on her neck

“Nat-” 

At this point; the thought of building a gingerbread house had gone out of the window. 

“Shhh, just relax,” Natasha whispered, her hands moving to the zipper of Y/ns jeans

“Let me take care of you,” Natasha cooed in Y/n's ear; as she pulled her jeans down.

Natasha knew that there was one way to make Y/n relax; it would be cruel of her if she didn’t help her girlfriend out when she was clearly very stressed.

~~~~~

“Feel better?” Natasha asked; her lips ghosting over the marks she’d left on Y/ns neck.

“Much,” Y/n answered with a blissful smile before she noticed the time on the clock; the daydreaming look in her eyes vanishing almost instantly being replaced with the same stress she felt earlier. 

“Shit,” 

“What?” Natasha asked, confused by the sudden change in Y/ns mood. 

“I’ve only got an hour to make this goddamn gingerbread house!” 

“Breathe,” Natasha cooed, rubbing her hand soothingly across her shoulders. “Or I’ll have to take care of you again,”

If it wasn’t for the fact Y/n knew this gingerbread house had to be done in such a short amount of time she wouldn’t have been so against spending more quality time with Natasha. Especially because she had that mischievous glint twinkling in her eyes.

But the clock was ticking. There wasn’t any time for that; no matter how much Y/n wanted it. 

“Nat, we don’t have time-”

“Then calm down and I’ll help you try and build this,” 

“Okay…”

At this point Y/n was done with the gingerbread house; it would’ve been easier and a lot less stressful to just buy one from the store. Why she had the idea of trying to build one was beyond even her reasoning. 

So that meant that Natasha did most of the work in building the gingerbread house; and by some miracle she managed to do it perfectly; after a few of the same issues that Y/n had. 

“Don’t look so surprised baby,” Natasha began, a smirk tugging at her lips as she noticed the shock in Y/n's eyes. She was baffled how Natasha had managed to construct something she’d spent what felt like decades on in just a few minutes. 

It truly was a Christmas miracle. 

“Thank you,” Y/n sighed in relief; resting her head on Natasha’s shoulder. 

“No prob-” before Natasha could finish her sentence; the gingerbread house once again, fell apart. 

There was silence for a few moments as both Y/n and Natasha stared at the mess on their kitchen worktop. 

“We’re just gonna have to buy one,” Natasha stated; dragging Y/n away before she could argue.

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @yn-ymn-yln @muzzyandbusy @gloryekaterina @rosieposie0624 @rustedbridges @amaryllis23 @wild-rose-35 @sassymox @munsinner @goddessofdawns @little-diable @beth-gallagher22 @bxnnywatts @the-chaotic-cow @camilyb @justreadingficsdontmindme @malfoys-demigod @misshale21 @delightfulsharkfarmstudent @bbmommy0902 @scorpionchild81 @elliewigginton20 @natashasleftelbow @swords-are-cool @poptartpoppyy

[burins]

@try-set-me-on-fire tagged me in a couple things which i forgot to reply to bc i spent all of tuesday writing a completely separate fic from anything i'd been working on. sometimes we get a little possessed. ANYWAY. happy wip wedthursday i am back to work on the thirst trap fic and booster gold is here! hi booster <3

“Superman! Just the guy I was looking for.” Booster Gold is clapping him on the arm. Booster goddamn Gold is slinging his arm around Clark’s shoulders, completely impervious to the frigid glare Clark levels him with. Is it because Booster’s from the future that he’s utterly immune to social cues? “You see, when I heard you were experiencing a little difficulty in matters of the heart, I thought, well, who better than Booster Gold to advise you? After all, Ted and I took a little while to figure things out, so you could say I’ve been in your shoes. Ha ha!” He actually says “ha ha,” two separate words, like a cartoon character. Clark can feel his jaw grinding. It’s a good thing his teeth are invulnerable. “The real key to making any relationship work is communication, you know?” Booster continues, oblivious to Clark’s torment. “It’s all about self-expression. Ted tells me I have a real talent for it, so if you’re feeling lost, you can just copy what I’m doing.” He nods down at Clark, beaming. “Another thing you two should try is talking about your love languages. Mr. Miracle gave me this book for Christmas, he said it really helped him and Big Barda, it’s called The Five Love Languages. And there are these quizzes you can take together– that’s more communication– that tell you what kind of love language you have. Mine is words of affirmation, and Ted’s is gifts. But we both also really like physical touch.” “I’d noticed,” Clark says, because it was impossible to be in a room with Ted and Booster and not know that they were having regular and passionate sex.

eta this fic is up now!

[theflyingfeeling]

Twelfth Day of Gift-Giving: Gift Ideas

Prompt(s): jewelry + polaroid camera

We can have a little Christmassy angst & pining. As a treat 🖤 (another standalone, the main story will be continued...later this week 😌)

~

“Janne told me he’s buying Joel a dildo."

Olli snorted the mouthful of coffee he had just sipped back into his paper cup.

“What?!”

“For that stupid Secret Santa thing," Tommi explained. "He got Joel. Said he’s gonna write him a card saying ‘Merry Christmas, go fuck yourself’.”

With his mouth now empty – and provided with proper context for the anecdote – Olli was now able to laugh at it. 

“Just what he needs, really.”

“D’you mind if we pop down to some stores on our way? I still need to buy mine for Porko.”

“Yeah, sure. Haven’t bought mine either.” Olli didn’t have much else scheduled for his Tuesday than a coffeeshop slash passport picture date with Tommi, so he might as well try to get the whole Secret Santa gift exchange fuss over and done with in time before the band Christmas party on Saturday.

“Who did you get?” Tommi asked and bit into his Christmas star pastry.

“I ain’t telling you. It’s Secret Santa, if I may remind you.”

“So Aleksi?”

Olli brought his cup back to his mouth, hoping it might at least partially hide the sudden blush creeping on his cheeks. 

“When are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell him what,” Olli said laconically. Somehow, playing dumb was much easier than facing the truth. That was why it annoyed Olli to no end how he never stood a chance when Tommi as much as raised his eyebrow at him.

“Why should I tell him?”

“Don’t you think he deserves to know?”

The question made Olli sigh heavily, out of sheer frustration. 

What right does Aleksi have to know, huh? How does he deserve to know that I can’t stop fucking thinking about him any more than I deserve this bullshit misery I’ve dug myself into? Or perhaps I do deserve it, in fact, just as a punishment for having fallen for him in the first place. Aleksi, on the other hand? All he's done has been just being his amazing, funny, sexy self to deserve nothing but blissful ignorance.

“Dunno.”

The creases on Tommi’s forehead softened.

“You’ll make your own decisions of course, but just… consider it. It might help you… you know…”

To get over him? To move on and forget about him, because it’s not like he’s ever gonna feel the same about me, and even if he did, by some goddamn miracle, it wouldn’t change a thing because he’s engaged to be married next spring? If anything, it would only make matters worse, thank you very much. 

“Sure, I’ll think about it.” Olli chucked down the rest of his coffee, still so hot it almost burned his throat. “Well, let’s go then?” Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair he was sat on and headed towards the shopping mall escalator, not stopping to see if Tommi was keeping up with him. He did hear the long sigh with a beaten undertone to it but hoped that would be the end of that conversation. 

~*~

Still empty-handed after visiting a number of stores at the mall, Tommi pulled on Olli’s sleeve as they passed a jeweller’s.

“I wonder if they have something under twenty euros there?”

“Worth a shot,” Olli shrugged, although he had already more or less given up on finding anything he’d want to give Aleksi for Christmas that wouldn’t scream either ‘I’m crushing on you so fucking bad that I will go insane if you look at me like the way you did that night in Berlin one more time’ or ‘hey, bro, have this stupid boob-shaped flower pot as a token of my brotherly affection, because I’m totally cool with the fact you’re getting married to someone that’s not me and that I’ll never get to have you the way I want you… bro’.

As soon as they entered a shop, Tommi’s face lit up when he spotted a display of cheap children’s earrings.

“Hell yeah, now we’re talking. Oh, look, Little My ones!” Tommi picked up a box with a pair of stud earrings inside, a poorly-painted Moomin character as decoration.

“They sure would fit Porko’s new stage fit,” Olli smiled wryly.

“Yep, that’s my gift for Porko settled,” Tommi agreed, checking the bottom of the box for the price. “Have you found anything for Aleksi yet?”

Olli then pretended to look around the selection of jewellery and shrugged.

“How’s about one of those fake septum rings? Since he seems to like the one he already has.” Tommi nodded towards a shelf displaying a collection of fake piercings in various colours and styles. 

Olli swallowed. He did not need a reminder of Aleksi’s new-found love for piercings, not after that one night Olli had, lying in his bed at night going out of his mind missing Aleksi’s stupid face, been browsing Aleksi’s social media accounts until a picture of the man Olli had never seen before, with his neck and eyelids painted black and a ring decorating his septum, appeared on his phone screen. Promptly Olli had ignored the other piece of jewellery Aleksi had been wearing on his left ring finger and had begun grinding against the mattress with his eyes nailed to Aleksi’s face until he had come inside his boxers, his moans and gasps muffled by a pillow.

He hadn’t felt proud of himself afterwards, even though it was hardly the first time he had masturbated to the thought of Aleksi.

“That one looks cool,” Tommi pointed at a septum ring with decorations imitating brass knuckles. “I think Aleksi might like it,” Tommi pointed out helpfully before heading towards the check-out counter, a self-satisfied smile on his face as he admired the perfect gift he had found for Porko.

Aleksi would like it for sure, but what about Olli’s own sanity?

Fuck it, he thought nevertheless and grabbed the damned ring before walking after Tommi.

~*~

So far, Olli had succeeded in keeping a sensible distance to Aleksi without seeming like he was avoiding him, while also holding on to the last bits of his mental health. At least Aleksi wasn’t wearing that ridiculous(ly hot) fake piercing, even if Olli did have to restrain himself from staring at Aleksi's unruly hair and the front of his tight black t-shirt for too long, or else he might have actually begun to weep by Aleksi’s feet. 

Joonas loved the Little My earrings Tommi had bought him, and Janne did, indeed, gift Joel a large, pink dildo just as he had threatened, which resulted in a round of immature laughter as the silicone sex toy was passed around. When it came to Aleksi’s turn to open his present, Olli made sure to look everywhere else except at him.

“Oh, wow, this is cool.” Aleksi brought the little box almost to his nose for a closer inspection. “Really cool, actually.”

In his moment of weakness, Olli dared a glance at Aleksi, only to find he was looking straight back at him in return.

“Thanks,” Aleksi said. Olli wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what had blown his cover.

Not exactly in his best Christmas spirits, and even less in the mood of being everyone’s centre of attention, Olli dawdled unwrapping his present until everyone else was already gawking at the silly knick-knacks and tacky accessories they had been gifted by fellow bandmates or members of the crew. Luckily his was hidden inside a simple paper bag, so he could easily sneak a look in without making a show of tearing it open from wrapping paper. 

When he saw what was inside, he swore his heart stopped for a second or two.

He was looking at a polaroid camera, but instead of a brand-new, never-before-used one, he had been given his own polaroid camera, the one he had lost during their European tour in the fall. It had been broken that night, dropped on the floor one too many times, and on top of that someone had stolen it right from their table towards the end of their afterparty in a crowded local bar. He had pretended not to be bothered by the loss, even though snapping random, aesthetic shots at their tour locations had been his favourite pastime during those weeks; at least it had given him something else to do and think about than drowning himself in his heartache.

Aleksi was the only one who would’ve known how upset he actually had been about the stolen camera, for Olli had (literally) cried about it to him afterwards in their hotel room, too tipsy on cheap German beer to care how Aleksi might have perceived him. It was Olli’s best and worst memory from that tour; falling asleep with his face buried in the crook of Aleksi’s neck, waking up with a throbbing headache and his yearning for the man stronger than ever.

Although Olli had immediately recognized the camera from the slight dent on its side, he still reached for it to pick it up in his hands, just to make sure it really was the same one he had lost – or thought he had, it now seemed. With a trembling finger he turned the camera on and couldn’t help the soft gasp that left his mouth when he saw the device coming to life, which had not happened the last time Olli had held it in his hands. Then he proceeded to take a picture of the pile of torn wrapping paper on the table in front of him and watched as a still blacked-out picture slid out of the machine. 

Suddenly the private room they had rented for the night at a downtown Oulu restaurant felt too small and suffocating around him, so he set the picture and the camera on the table and stormed outside.

The frigid coldness of the outdoors punched the air out of Olli’s lungs, forcing him lean against the brick wall by the back door of the restaurant to catch his breath. At least it was winter and the terrace was empty; he didn’t exactly need witnesses for his little meltdown.

He wasn’t granted the privilege of privacy for too long, however, because a moment later, the back door opened, letting out the cheerful chitter-chatter of the restaurant for a couple of seconds before muffling it again. 

“Everything okay?” Aleksi asked him. Olli could only bring himself to nod. 

“I, ummm… I had your camera fixed.”

“I noticed."

“Sorry I had to steal it first though. I didn’t meant to, in fact I was just trying to make sure you wouldn’t lose it, but then I just… then you… fuck, nevermind.”

A small cloud erupted in the cold winter air as Aleksi sighed heavily.

“It’s fucking cold in here,” he said when the cloud had disappeared and stroke his bare arms. “Let’s go back inside?”

“Yeah, you go, I’m just gonna… I need another breath of fresh air, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Aleksi said quietly, but showed no other signs of leaving his side. 

Olli wondered if the silence between them was as deafening to Aleksi as it was to him.

“Thanks for the piercing, by the way. It’s fucking cool.”

“How did you know it was from me?” Olli couldn’t help himself any longer and blurted out the question or else he’d go mute for good.

Aleksi chuckled. “Christmas magic, I guess.”

Olli almost felt like telling Aleksi to shove his ‘Christmas magic’ to you-know-where for giving him such an annoyingly vague answer instead of a serious one, and he supposed Aleksi understood his passive-aggressive silence as the man continued a moment later:

“I, uhhh…” he paused to chuckle, “I may have gone through everyone to figure out who was your Secret Santa and then switched with them. And now I sort of regret it, I mean… I should’ve just given the camera to you weeks ago. I’m sure Niko would’ve gifted you something that wasn’t as… creepy.”

“It’s not creepy,” Olli shook his head. “It’s very thoughtful, actually. Thank you. I… god, I hadn’t even thanked you yet,” he groaned, hiding his face in his hands for lack of anything better to do with himself. Aleksi had just given him the sweetest, most unbelievable Christmas gift Olli could have dared to wish from the ridiculous Secret Santa humbug Joonas made them do every single year, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be thankful from all his pining and grief? Such a friend he was.

(Aleksi did deserve better.)

“So you’re not mad at me for taking your camera and not telling you?”

Olli shook his head again.

“No.”

How could I ever?

“Good,” Aleksi nodded. His teeth had begun clattering. “Fuck, it’s freezing tonight. I could never live this up north.” 

Please don’t remind me.

“You should go back inside. I’ll be right behind you.”

“No, I can wait. Keep you company.” Aleksi shoved his hands in his jean pockets, casually as if he wasn’t literally shivering from the cold. “I mean. Unless you want me to go.”

If Olli had been even half as strong as he would’ve liked to be, he would’ve ordered Aleksi to leave him alone so he could dwell in his misery in peace. Tragically, the part of him that craved to be near Aleksi always trumped any other feeling.

“Just stay. If you want to. Although I’m afraid I’m not the best company right now.”

He could feel Aleksi look at him, patiently waiting for him to elaborate.

“Is there anything I can do to help that?”

Is there? Let’s see. You could throw that ring of yours in the Bay of Bothnia and call off the wedding for starters, or if you can't do that, then at least cross my name off the guest list, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to witness your happiness next May, as selfish as it sounds. Or then I guess you could pull me in your arms like you did when I cried to about how grief-stricken I was about having my camera stolen and maybe even let me fall asleep on your chest one last time, for old times’ sake, before I’ll pack my bags and move to the North Pole perhaps, or some place else that’s too cold for these thoughts of you to follow me.

“Not much, I’m afraid.”

Next to him in the dark, Aleksi nodded. Yet, he made no effort to leave his side, although by then he must have been struggling to appear unbothered by the cold in just a thin t-shirt and jeans.

After a while, when Olli himself was starting to feel the effect of the minus degrees, Aleksi shuffled closer to him; not quite touching him, but close enough to easily rest his chin on Olli’s shoulder if he wished to; close enough for Olli to hear his shivering breaths in his ear.

“Olli, I… I should tell you. While I still can.”

It was laughable how just one sentence was all it took to bring Olli’s hopes back up from the gutter. Not awfully high, but on the surface, as if to make sure they'd still be alive to maximise the pain on the way back down to the depths of his agony. 

Because there were times Olli had asked himself if the lingering looks or touches they shared meant as much to Aleksi as they meant to him. He had spent many a sleepless night wondering if there really had been something other than friendly fooleries going on in between them when Aleksi had pinned him against the backstage couch in Berlin or whether Olli had only imagined the thirst he had seen Aleksi’s his eyes. Sometimes he stayed up until morning, trying to come up with a rational explanation to why Aleksi had been texting with him throughout the night instead of being asleep next to his fiancée. 

Maybe he was just bored. Maybe he couldn’t sleep for whatever reason; literally any other reason than what Olli hoped would be the truth.

“Tell me what?” His voice was shaking, but not because of the cold.

“That I, ummm… that I’m… Oh.”

Instead of finishing what he was about to say, Aleksi reached for his back pocket and took out his phone, a soft buzz sounding from it. Another cold silence fell on them as Aleksi stared at the screen, studying the notification that had popped. Only then Olli could dare a look at the man, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the phone screen.

Olli decided he’d be better off not asking who it was that was missing him, afraid he knew the answer already. 

“Ummmm… Nevermind.” Aleksi sighed at the phone before putting it away. Then he reached his hand to brush the back of Olli’s palm lightly. Aleksi’s touch was surprisingly warm and gentle, yet it sent shivers down Olli’s spine.

“Don’t freeze yourself to death, okay? I’mma head back inside.”

Olli was left staring at Aleksi’s back before it disappeared inside the restaurant, leaving him to voice his response to the pitch-black wintery night instead.

I might as well, he said in his mind, as I’m sure it would be less painful a way to go than dying from this torture of being in love with you.

[k-s-morgan]

This is the final post this year! And oh, what a year it was. Bombings. Explosions. The threat of my city being occupied by Ruzzians. Destruction and millions of broken fates; stupid, bitter hatred and violence from people who claimed to be a brotherly nation; waking up and going to sleep under the air raid alarms.

Many horrible things happened this year. Without a doubt, this was the worst year of my life because since February 24, I have never once felt safe. Fortunately, no person I deeply care for died because of this war, but some of those I knew were murdered or tortured or shot at by Ruzzians — for no reason at all. A family friend was trying to escape Bucha with his elderly neighbors, and Ruzzians opened fire. They managed to escape with no serious wounds by sheer miracle. Another family friend, also from Bucha, was found raped, tortured, and murdered after Ruzzians fled.

These stories are endless, and my own fears, tears, and pain pale in comparison. Will these terrorists and their supporters pay for what they’ve been doing? I hope so. Because I don’t want to live in a world where injustice this large, this outrageous is allowed to happen with no consequences. And sure, I know that injustice has always been there: so many people already suffered from senseless wars; so many horrible events keep happening daily, but when it’s far away, you learn how to distance yourself from it. When it’s your people dying, your cities being levelled, your loved ones and pets jumping in terror from any loud sound — it hits so much stronger. There is no escape, only a desperate hope for something good, something fair.

But throughout it all, many of you were there with me, and this made a difference I didn’t even hope for. So many of you kept supporting me with your messages, notes, asks and comments. So many offered me temporary accommodations in case I need to flee; so many supported me financially via Patreon, with some still doing it. It means the world. It returned the semblance of safety and stability to me, and it helped me get back to writing. I think this year was actually more productive than those before: this is amazing and I have you to thank.

Every time I expressed hope that the New Year would be kinder, I got the opposite results. So I’m not going to wish for anything this time, at least not aloud. If these wishes count for anything, I think mine are obvious without me voicing them.      

To add some more soul and personality to this post, here are some pics I’ve made lately!

Here’s me and one of my three cats, Laoriy, during the last air raid. The blast wave reached our doors and my baby decided to seek comfort from me.

And here’s this cat in calmer circumstances)) Other pics will be under the cut.

Here’s me sleeping after one of the air raids, both of my other cats, Simura and Tom, at either side. 

My most beloved pigeon Daikiriya meeting this year’s snow.

My Mom decorating the hallway during the latest air raid.

My dad reuniting with his cat Tom.

How my apartment block looks during the black-out:

And finally, me today at my Christmas tree) It’s a very old little artificial tree that has been with me since my birth. We don’t buy a real one because I don’t want to part with something this important; we don’t buy a new, better-looking tree because this one is a friend and I love it.

Thank you all again! Wishing those of you who are going to celebrate a fantastic day, but most of all, I hope all of you will enjoy normalcy, stability, and peace. These things are so underrated but they are so very important. 

I love you all. 

[amazingmsme]

Hard of Hearing

AN: MERRY CHRISTMAS! I know it’s not Christmas anymore (for me at least) but just barely! But this is my third Christmas fic, & I’ve been so damn busy it’s a miracle I even had any time to write this! But I’ve had an urge to write a fic for It’s A Wonderful Life ever since watching it in film history over a year ago! This movie is so underrated probably because it’s in black & white but George Bailey is a fucking cutie & I need to see that man get wrecked by the love of his life! I WILL spread my agenda to anyone & everyone willing to listen! (read)

George Bailey was many things. A father, a husband, a son a brother, and he was also an unnamed hero of their small town. A simple man who poured his heart into the world around him, and expected nothing in return. He was loving and attentive to those around them, a good natured man who brought more joy than he knew. A half deaf man who just so happened to be a prankster at heart.

"Oh George?"

Now, George heard Mary call him from the other room loud and clear, but she could get so cute when she was put out with him. She called him again, waiting for an answer that didn't come. She yelled a third time, and there was that fire that he loved to see so much. "George Bailey!"

"I'm right here, you don't gotta yell," he said from the doorway, holding back a smug grin. Mary gave an exasperated smile.

"M Well you weren't answering me!"

"Gee, I'm sorry Mary, I didn't hear ya," he lied easily, only feeling slightly guilty. Mary's expression softened as she walked over to him, handing him the Christmas tree topper.

"I just need help putting this on the tree," she said, turning back to the box of ornaments and grabbing a crystal snowflake to hang on a branch.

"Oh, well why didn't you just say so?" he asked, making her roll her eyes fondly. He stretched as much as he could to place the angel on top of the tree.

"Mm, a little to the left," she directed, standing on the other side of the room to get a better view. George smirked to himself before looking at her over his shoulder.

"What about the lights?

"No, it needs to go to the left," she repeated, slightly louder. George stepped back, looking the tree up and down.

"I don't know Mary, they look like they're working to me," he drawled, knowing damn well that's not what she was saying.

"No, the angel!" she reiterated, trying to hold back her laughter at her husband's expense. If only she knew who the butt of the joke really was.

"Well what about it?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips and taking a step back to admire the tree. He started at the bottom, scanning from trunk to the tippy top, where the angel sat, leaning just a little too far to the right. "Ah, it's just a little crooked! You shoulda told me, I'd fix it right up," he playfully chastised, trotting over to straighten the tree topper.

Mary watched her husband with a skeptical eye, starting to catch on to his scheme. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, a fond smile on her face. George completed his designated task, almost walking right past Mary without a second thought.

"George!" The almost aghast tone in her voice made him stop dead in his tracks.

"What? Don't tell me I ruined the tree," he teased, looking at it again just to make sure. She shook her head with a chuckle, smacking him on the arm lightly.

"Were you really going to walk by without giving me a kiss?" she asked, cocking her head sweetly. She looked up at him with those warm brown eyes that made him melt, batting her long lashes. George flushed, ducking his head down and shoved his hands in his pocket. He bit his cheek to keep from grinning, but a sly smirk still found its way on his face.

"Now why would I go and do a thing like that for?" he asked, barking out a laugh at the indignant look she gave him.

"Because I'm standing under the mistletoe!" she explained, exasperated. He took a step closer, cupping his ear and scrunched his face in confusion.

"Huh? You stubbed your toe?" he asked, and the absurdity of the question caused Mary to burst into giggles. "You want me to kiss it better, is that it?" She shook her head, laughing too hard to answer.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" she asked, humor and mischief sparkling in her eyes.

"Am I what?" he asked, not bothering to hide his smug grin.

"George Bailey, you're horrible!"

"I'm sorry, I'm what?" he asked, leaning in and cupping his ear to "hear" better. She arched a brow, smirking at him.

"I know that's your bad ear," she said, matter of factly.

"Do you now?" he asked, taking a step closer.

"Mhm." She closed the distance, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull him closer.

"Say, what else do you know?"

"Oh you'd be surprised," she mused.

"Try me," he said, finally leaning in for his mistletoe kiss. But Mary wasn't about to reward bad behavior. She waited until their lips barely brushed before she dug her hands in his sides, scribbling up and down.

He yelped, doubling over in shocked laughter. "Mahahary! Whahahat are you dohohoing?"

"Oh I'm just showing you what all I know, just like you said!" she explained, as if it were obvious. "And I just so happen to know aaaall your tickle spots!" she cooed, relishing in the way his cheeks blushed bright red.

"Nohoho don't!" he cried, leaning against the doorframe for support. Mary started squeezing his hips, and he positively screamed.

"Aw but why not? You thought it was funny to mess with me, I'm just giving you something to laugh about!" she reasoned, voice as sweet as honey.

"Ihihi'm sohohorry!" he apologized, knees buckling as he sank to the floor. Mary followed him all the way to the ground, drilling her thumbs in his hip dips. She laughed along with him as she continued taking him apart with her fingers.

"I don't know, are you reeeaaally sorry?" she asked in a singsong voice. George was laughing too hard to answer, nodding frantically as he stuttered out, "Y-yes! Sohoho sohohorry!"

"Hm... Alright, I believe you," she said, only she didn't stop.

"M-Mahahary! You're still t-tickling mehehe!" he whined, rolling around on the dusty ground. She really needed to sweep, Mary thought to herself.

"Oh, I never said I'd stop!" she clarified, tossing her head back with a joyous, yet somehow maniacal cackle.

"Nooohohohoooo!"

"Oh hush, you know you deserve this."

George balked, staring at her indignantly as he tried to come up with a retort. "Well- maybe not all of it!" he exclaimed, bursting into laughter once more when Mary shot her hands up to scribble in his underarms.

"Agree to disagree," she conceded, moving down to pinch and pluck at each rib. He snorted between his giggles, swatting at her weakly with one hand as he hid his face with the other.

"George Bailey, you better not hide that smile from me if you know what's good for you!" she threatened, wiggling her fingers a few inches above his stomach. On reflex, his hands shot down to grab her wrists, holding them at bay.

"Call me a glutton for punishment," he challenged with that signature cocky grin that made her fall for him in the first place. Her jaw dropped to the floor as she scoffed, though in actuality she couldn't be more delighted.

"Oh you are going to get it!" she cried, wrestling her arms free from his grasp. He was already laughing before she laid a finger on him.

"Wahahahait wait I'm sorrYYYY!"

"Oh now you are," she teased, not stopping her favorite kind of torture just yet. His long legs scrambled for purchase against the wood floor, catching her attention.

"And how could I forget about these," she mused aloud, spreading her nails over his kneecaps. He shrieked, tucking his legs in close to his chest for protection, though it offered none. Not that he really minded all that much. But he was a pretty good actor, if he did say so himself.

She mercilessly squeezed his knees, leaving him a wheezy, cackling heap on the floor. She wasn't too cruel however, and her hands slowed to a stop.

George laid on the ground in a breathless daze, clothes dirty and wrinkled, and hair thoroughly tussled, all while sporting a large, genuine smile.

"So," he started, shifting into a sitting position, "Are uh, are we still under the mistletoe?"

Mary rolled her eyes at her husband's antics for maybe the millionth time before grabbing him by the shirt collar, pulling him in for a passionate kiss under the mistletoe.

George Bailey may not have gotten the life he had hoped or dreamed for, but what he got in return was more than any wish could ever grant.

[this-is-z-art-blog]

Hello, I’d like to join Eight Ecto Nights, however I’ve never celebrated Hanukah and I suppose I wanted to ask someone who actually has. I’ll do my own reserch of course, but you seemed like a good place to start.

Is there any particular traditions or little things your family does that you might not see on a wikipedia? Is the mood usually as jolly as Christmas or is it more sedated?

beyond that, is there anything you’d particularly like to see in this event?

I hope that makes sence 😆 thank you for answering my questions

Howdy! First of all, welcome aboard eight ecto nights :D

Second, absolutely feel free to ask me questions. I love talking about this stuff, and I know doing independent research can be overwhelming when you don't know what questions you're trying to ask. If you're looking for research help, chabad.org has a lot of the traditional details and laws (here's their hanukkah page), and myjewishlearning.com has a more modern/egalitarian bend (here's their hanukkah intro)- that said, I'm totally open to asks or dms, hit me up!

Now to actually answer your questions. Disclaimer, a lot of this is just my own experience, not universal or the only 'right' way to do it.

In my family we light the menorahs from oldest to youngest. We all have a favorite menorah we tend to light year after year, but we also collect them, and often have a small party on one of the later nights where we invite friends and family to come light with us, so it's handy to have extras on hand. We use the regular boxes of hanukkah candles you can get at any grocery store for most nights, but on the very last my dad gets these beautiful taller candles with gradients of color to use.

When the kids in our family were younger, we'd often sit on the floor in front of the candles after lighting to play dreidel (a kind of spun top with Hebrew letters standing for the phrase nes gadol haya sham, 'a great miracle happened there', around the sides; which side lands facing up determines the outcome of your turn), and my mom still gives out bags of gelt (chocolate coins, typically in bright foil, that you win and lose in a game of dreidel) most nights.

Some other odds and ends we do include covering the hanukkhia-lighting table in aluminum foil (fire safety) and giving out different jobs (like setting up the candles for everyone before we start).

I wouldn't describe it as "jolly", but I'm probably not the right person to ask to compare something to Christmas. It's a fun holiday for sure, and one of my favorites; you have the lights, the festive foods, the gifts and surprises, the time together. It's not just about that though; it's about survival, and standing up to oppression and religious persecution, so there are more serious elements to telling and thinking about the story. That said, it's a pretty minor holiday.

In terms of things I'd love to see, first and foremost I just want to see what people make! The point of open-ended prompts is interpretation, after all. Whether you draw the characters singing hanukkah songs, write about them making their own menorahs, sculpt a ghost-themed dreidel, or something entirely different, I'm excited to see it!

Also, I hope people have a good grasp of what a menorah looks like. A hanukkah menorah, or hanukkiah, has nine total candle or oil holders (either is good, but candles are more common than oil lights). The eight main ones are placed from right to left, and lit from left to right (ie, newest first) by the ninth, the shamash or helper light. The shape of the menorah can get creative, as long as the eight holiday lights are in a straight, level line and the shamash is set apart (usually taller).

As a last thought, it would be nice to see an effort at IDs for image-based posts for the event; it's not hanukkah specific, but I've been seeing them more and more in the phandom, and it's lovely to see folks learning and trying to make the community increasingly accessible!

Let me know if you have more questions, on or off anon, via ask or dm, I am here to help!

[secretkeeper13]

Christmas, Interrupted

It’s been ages since I’ve posted anything— return to the office and real life this past year has been an adjustment, to say the least. But somehow, I managed to write this silly, smutty fic for the Harry/Ginny Discord Incognito Elf fic exchange for the lovely, kind @sweeethinny. A true Christmas miracle!

First part below, full fic on Ao3.

23 December, 1998

The thrum of anticipation radiated throughout platform nine and three quarters, the voices of anxious parents and excited children echoing off the domed ceiling and the brick walls adorned with boughs of holly.

“There it is!” a child shouted, running down the platform. Harry’s heart quickened as the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts express became visible, thick steam billowing out of the stack and into the chilly air. Next to him, Ron rocked up onto his toes, trying to make out the blurry faces through the windows.

“They’ll probably be the last off the train,” Ron said, with a tone of fond exasperation, raising his voice over the hiss of the brakes. “You know Hermione, she’ll think it’s her responsibility as Head Girl to make sure every bloody first year is off the train and accounted for before she’ll leave.”

“Don’t think she’s wrong there, mate,” replied Harry wryly, though he understood Ron’s eagerness far too well.

He hadn’t seen Ginny in nearly two months, since a painfully short reunion in Hogsmeade at the end of October. Of course, he’d gone much longer without seeing Ginny in the past, but he quickly realized that it was much harder (literally and figuratively) to endure their separation now that they were properly together.

At the Burrow during the summer, though they had to be discreet, it was easy enough for Harry to slip down to Ginny’s room under the cloak once everyone else had gone to bed and be back in his bed before anyone woke. And so, Harry had become accustomed to engaging in certain activities on a fairly regular basis. But after just two months of shagging the girl of his dreams, Ginny returned to Hogwarts, and they were forced off being together, cold turkey.

Time apart had made them rather desperate, and with far more attention than either had ever paid to their Hogwarts timetables, Harry and Ginny had carefully planned the Christmas holiday to ensure they would be able to spend as much time alone as possible together. It was not an easy feat, considering that Ginny’s presence was expected at the Burrow, and Harry would rather face a bevy of Death Eaters than ask Mrs. Weasley if Ginny could spend the night alone with him at Grimmauld Place while she was still a Hogwarts student. And so, through the exchange of many letters, they’d planned and prepared, making a foolproof schedule for the Christmas holidays with diligence and attention to detail that even Hermione would be proud of, Harry thought, suppressing a snort of laughter.

As the air around them grew thicker with steam and louder from the sounds of happy reunions, Harry scanned the cars, looking for Ginny.

Ron spotted her first, his height working to his advantage on the crowded platform. “Ginny,” he called, with a wave.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of Ginny, running towards him, her long red hair flowing behind her, eyes blazing. She threw her arms around him, and he pulled her tightly to him. Time stopped, as it always did when they kissed— Harry lost himself in the feel of her fingers in his hair, her small body pressed against him, her familiar scent, like flowers and flying and home—

“Oi,” Ron called, causing them to pull apart. “Nice to see you too,” he said sarcastically to Ginny.

She rolled her eyes and stepped away from Harry to give her brother a hug. “Hermione should be out in a moment, she was just making sure that everyone was off the train,” she said. “And nice to see you, idiot.”

Ron grinned down at her. “Knew you missed me.”

“Not as much as Hermione did,” she replied, nudging Ron towards the farthest car, where Hermione was stepping out onto the platform.

Ron ran to Hermione with a whoop, and when he reached her, he hugged her around the waist. Harry looked away as the two began snogging in earnest.

“Bloody hypocrite,” Ginny grumbled.

Harry embraced her again and walked her a few steps backwards towards the brick wall, the platform growing emptier by the moment. He leaned down and kissed her, his lips parting, relishing her quiet gasp as he pressed her towards the wall, the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest making him desperate for them to be alone.

“Let’s skip dinner at the Burrow and just go to yours,” Ginny murmured as Harry pulled back, his trousers already starting to feel tight.

He raised his brow, trying to ignore his body, which was fervently in agreement with hers. “That’ll go over well, considering Charlie’s just got in and your whole family is waiting to see you,” said Harry, the sarcasm apparent in his tone. He stroked down her cheek gently, tilting her chin up to look at him. “Besides, we’ve got a plan, remember?”

Ginny sighed, dropping her chin slightly to place a quick kiss on his fingers. “Right, stick to the plan, I suppose.”

“Stick to the plan,” Harry echoed, trying to ignore the electricity coursing through his body from the barest brush of her lips upon his fingers.

“Someone should record that for posterity,” Hermione interrupted, her smile broad and cheeks very flushed.

“What plan?” asked Ron, who approached behind her, pulling Hermione’s and Ginny’s trunks.

Harry laughed as Hermione pulled him into a hug, purposefully ignoring Ron’s remark.

Only Ginny knew of their well-crafted plan for the first night of the holidays: dinner at the Burrow, then after, he’d bring her to Grimmauld Place, ostensibly to ‘show her the renovations,’ but in reality, to have their own private reunion before she returned to the Burrow for bed.

“Harry and I’ve got to go to the Burrow for dinner, remember,” Ginny said smoothly.

“Right, Charlie can’t wait to see you. Better have your broomstick ready, he said wants to put the Quidditch captain through her paces.” Ron grinned, setting the trunk next to Ginny.

Ginny snorted. “I’ll fly circles around him, there’s no way he’s in shape.”

“We’ve got to go to my parents, Ron, they’re expecting us for dinner, remember?”

“Course I remember,” Ron said, hitching up Hermione’s trunk as they reached the apparition point before placing a shrinking charm on it. “Harry, don’t wait up for me at Grimmauld, I won’t be back until late.”

“We’ll see you at Christmas,” Hermione said, and she and Ron disapparated.

“Come on, we’d better get to the Burrow.” Harry turned towards Ginny, resisting the strong urge to sod it all and just go back to Grimmauld Place.

“Do we have to?” Ginny trailed her hand down Harry’s arm, her fingers swirling over his bicep, causing a swooping sensation low in his stomach. “We could pop over to yours for a minute and no one would be the wiser.” Her eyes gleamed as they met his.

Body still tingling from her touch, Harry swallowed, fighting back the temptation to take her home with him immediately.

“We can’t, your whole family is waiting for us for dinner. And they all know what time the Hogwarts Express gets in, it’d be obvious.” Harry sighed. “But we’ll leave as soon as dinner’s over.”

“Good. Because I can’t wait to see the renovations,” Ginny replied, with a knowing grin.

“We’ll definitely start the tour in the bedroom.” Harry tried to keep his face deadpan, but Ginny’s laughter was infectious.

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