#and the ending makes them seem very Doctor and Companion like to me

[quietwingsinthesky]

I think the nature of Clara haterism on Tumblr can’t be fully understood without the historical context of 2013. Namely that by the time of DW season 7b Moffat was widely hailed as The Bogeyman Of All Misogyny Ever. Clara was considered THE prototypical Shallow Moffat Girl, and she became a sort of figurehead for everything wrong with the show. (Bc everyone was maybe 14 and Smith was too beloved to insult.) Consequently, she evokes a kneejerk bad faith reading response in many users even today.

yeah, alright, i can see that. i am surprised that, at least as far as i’ve seen, amy & river don’t get the same treatment? or if they did, it hasn’t persisted half as long as opinions on clara have. Because having now seen how all three of them were written, amy got treated. so much worse with The Misogyny™️, and River bounces between ‘actually a fascinating character’ and ‘moffat wrote a sexy girlboss who wants to fuck the doctor’ so hard it gives me whiplash. (and i say this as a River enjoyer, I love her and she deserves so much better lmao.)

Of the three of them, I think Clara actually comes out a lot better written overall? She’s allowed more space to be a character rather than be a woman, if that makes sense. Sure, bit of a rocky start in s7, and I can certainly see why the Impossible Girl thing could be aggravating to some people. (I think it was. Fine. fantastic episode conceptually that sort of fell apart when it came to actually doing anything.) but Clara in s8 (and the start of s9) is fantastic. Her relationship with Danny and the Doctor is messy and deceptive and so understandable. “Listen” as an episode almost felt like ‘hey what if the clara putting herself in the doctor’s past was actually interesting and impacted him’. Her becoming more like the Doctor, especially after losing Danny, both as an effort to hold on tight to the only person she perceives as keeping her moving forward and giving her a purpose AND because to her, the Doctor is able to lose so much and not be destroyed by it and she wants that (without really understanding just how much this life is fucking him up, too.), is just. fantastic.

where was i going with this. i have no idea. my point, i think, is: i guess i can see how initial reactions to clara might color a less than flattering picture of the rest of her, but :( consider: i love her so so much and everyone should be niceys to her.

[unexpectederawhilesubmitting]

WARNING: DOCTOR WHO SPOILERS EXPLAINING REGENERATION SHENANIGANS

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

okay so I was kind of not on board with the concept of bi-regeneration, mainly because of how it seemed like all of the Sad and the Trauma that the Doctor had undergone got kind of handwaved away? i'm all for ncuti's Doctor being sort of a fresh start/jumping on point for new viewers, but i didn't get how that could work if like, literally 40 minutes ago he was David Tennant being a sad wet puppy dog of a man

however, after rewatching it, i've realized what i think happened there, and it goes all the way back to something introduced with the 4th doctor's regeneration that was never explained: the Watcher

^this spooky guy

so, for those that don't know (or haven't seen every episode of a show that is over half a century old), the Fourth Doctor regenerates at the end of a story called Logopolis (he falls off a satellite dish, but that's not important right now). all throughout the episode, this weird figure, The Watcher, stands off in the distance, and even intervenes slightly by saving the Fourth Doctor's companion. there's not much given in the way of an explanation until the Fourth Doctor regenerates, saying "it's the end. but the moment has been prepared for..."

the watcher walks up, and gets absorbed in a super rad 1980's digital effect (never change doctor who), while his companion just gives us the not-super-helpful-for-lore statement "He was the Doctor all the time!"

then, in a crossfade, the Doctor goes from Four to weird-powder-man to Five

canonically, the Watcher is explained as a future version of the doctor that comes about in sort of a weird overlapping thing with the doctor's timeline, it's very wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey.

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

SO what does this have to do with biregeneration and satisfying character arcs/moving on from trauma?

Well, remember, Fifteen said this, about Time Lords doing rehab out of order:

so, here's the thing: Fifteen is the Doctor AFTER Fourteen (duh, I know?) But to be clear...Fourteen lives out an entire lifetime with Donna and family, gets to a ripe old age, and then, when his lifetime of healing is over, he gets yeeted back through his own timestream just to zoot himself out of David Tennant's chest.

Remember, his first words to Fourteen (after popping out of his chest) are "So good to see you! So good!", not the RTD classic "what?". He greets himself like he's almost expecting this, he then says "does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on here?" which only makes sense if he's coming from a different point in his own timestream (remember, when two doctors interact, memory gets really weird, 10 and the War Doctor don't remember the events of Day of the Doctor until they live through them as 11).

SO TO BE CLEAR: Ncuti Gatwa is playing the Doctor AFTER he has spent years healing from his traumas. His Doctor is fine because Fourteen takes the time to rest and work on himself.

tl;dr: I didn't like biregeneration at first because I thought it looked like this:

In actuality, it looks more like this:

[fatale-distraction]

BG3 Companions Social Media Headcanons Part 1

I was bored at work and couldn’t stop. 🤣 I’ll make another post with Halsin, Minthara, Jaheira, Minsc, and some NPCs!

~~~

Astarion - Pre-Tav, Astarion's social media is mostly thirst-traps for some kind of nefarious, Cazador-related money-making plot. They barely scoot past the TOS on lewd content. Very little real personal content, anything that isn't a thirst trap is heavily doctored lifestyle content to make it seem like he's living a much more luxurious life than he actually is.

After meeting Tav and getting rid of Cazador, he deletes all of his old accounts and opens up new ones. They're not exactly private, but he's much more careful about who he follows and who can follow him back. The posts become much more genuine. Still a lot of selfies, but they're sexy in the way of a guy just finally living his truth and being comfortable in his own skin. There's more shots of his daily life; waking up with his partner's obnoxious pets strewn across the bed, morning coffee and his current favorite book, new outfits that make him feel more himself. Tav features heavily in most of his posts, and there are probably as many pictures of them as there are of himself.

Karlach - chaos. No rhyme or reason. Lots of parkour and Jack-ass parodies. Constant flood of pictures of her stuffed animal collection. Stupid filters abound. There's several videos of her just flexing. Lumberjack videos. Seven hundred pictures of Tav, tons of selfies together. Videos of her literally sobbing over some cute stuffy she found or a dog she got to pet. "How many times can I say the fuck word before I get suspended." Memes. Memes everywhere.

Lae'zel - She follows three accounts and never posts anything, but somehow she's constantly scrolling through. What does she even do? Her profile picture is still the default. She doesn't have any profile information filled out. It just says "No." Her screen name is just Lae_zel. Every single item in her favorites is a cat video. She has One photo and its a gym selfie. All of her comments seem really mean at first, but they're all weirdly supportive things along the lines of "your teeth are sharp and your visage terrifying".

Shadowheart - total E-girl influencer vibe. Everything is #nofilter. She doesn't need filters. She's god's most perfect princess. You can't even be mad because it's not vanity its just how she Is. Ends everything with Prayer-hands-emoji hashtag Shar'sblessings or Selune'sblessings depending on where she is in that journey. Hairstyle and makeup tutorials and she makes it look so damn easy. "Dye my hair and cut my bangs with me." "Get ready with me" videos nearly every day. Every picture has a comment from Astarion that just says "oh fuck off" because even he can never hope to be as perfect as she is. Or at least that's what her forty-five thousand followers think.

Wyll - The official Blade of the Frontier social media account(s). Fencing videos and promos. "How to polish your horns for newbies" video that's been taken down twenty-seven times for lewd content even though it's literally for polishing actual horns. Accidental thirst traps because damn. Lots of disability advocacy, especially for visual impairments. Weekly Demon/Devil PSAs. Constantly featured in Karlach's vids and vice-versa. Buddy selfies. Once in a while a pic of him with his dad. Pics with Tav are rare, but when he does post them they're the sweetest pictures and he gushes about them for paragraphs. It's a little gross how gushy they are. Astarion comments with vomit emojis and Wyll just replies with an angry face emoji. The purest content. He's so wholesome. Not a swear to be seen. Lots of gentle hype videos. "You've got this. You can do this. I believe in you."

Gale - oh my god he has the most pretentious social media accounts. He's worse than Astarion. "Well, actually" videos with multiple parts because they're too long. Tea and bookshelves. Tara. So many pics of Tara. Tara napping on a book. Tara swatting a fly. Tara in the window. Tara on the kitchen counter. Tara laying in the sun. Tara doing nothing. He has one of those fancy cat terrarium backpacks. Magic tutorials. Mystra simp. Surprisingly few selfies but the ones he has are IMMACULATE. Pretentious book reviews. His only saving grace is that he is HILARIOUS. He's the only one with a reasonable about of pics with Tav as opposed to almost none or way too many, but the captions are always really sweet.

~~~

Part 2 here!

Part 3 here!

Part 4

[ordinaryschmuck]

The way Fifteen says "I can save all your lives! Now Let me!" I see EVERY version of The Doctor screaming that. Even that laugh followed by a scream of rage, that seems like something most of them would do.

To me, it proves how Ncuti Gatwa does such a great job at bringing out every aspect of every Doctor, yet still making the performance his own through HIS distinct mannerisms. It shows that The Doctor isn't limited to one gender or race and that no matter the face they have, their spirit and personality remains partly intact. The only thing that could and WOULD change is circumstance.

The ending of "Dot and Bubble" would not have worked so efficiently if it wasn't played by Ncuti Gatwa. His race is the very reason those twats decide to become pilgrims instead of letting him help. They would have trusted any previous version of The Doctor, even if he had a companion of color. But because it was Fifteen and he's black, they don't trust him, meaning that The Doctor can and will face prejudice if they look a certain way. If they're not prepared for how people will react to how they look, then the result is...exactly like the end of "Dot and Bubble." Disappointment and rage over the fact that these people will refuse his help because The Doctor doesn't look like them. It's disgusting and yet you know it's something The Doctor had to go through in order to understand how he has to help others in the future.

It's what makes Ncuti Gatwa channeling previous Doctors into his performance so effective. It's a character who was predominantly white realizing that the job isn't going to be easy now that they're Black. It adds an extra bit of heartache to an already heartbreaking moment.

[the-fiction-witch]

Illusion P2

Media - Doctor Who (The Lodger Episode) Character - The Doctor (11th) Couple - The Doctor X Reader Reader - Y/n (Companion) Rating - Smut! Word Count - 2808

"Doctor..." Y/n gasps between kisses,

The Doctor's breathing was laboured when he pulled back from the kiss. He looked down at her as she gasped and his gaze instantly went to her swollen red lips, staring at them with an intense look in his eyes. "... Y/n... You have no idea what you're doing to me-"

she gasped hard "... You uhhh you don't have to keep kissing me now he's gone you know," 

The Doctor's expression darkened slightly, he seemed almost disappointed to hear her say that. He gently reached up and gently caressed her face and gave a slight chuckle. The look in his eyes was something she had never seen before. "You really think I'm just kissing you because we're pretending?" He gently began to nibble on her neck a bit.

she blushed hard "I think you really are becoming more human ... But... I'm not complaining" she smiled

His hands gently went down to her hips and he gently began to grind her against his lap a little bit, still nibbling and kissing her neck a little roughly. "Oh, you shouldn't complain about me being human... I'm about to get a lot more human than you can imagine." His teeth gently bit down onto the lobe of her ear.

she moaned and shifted her hips to grind without his assistance, his hands running up her tights and pushing up her dress as they returned to the kiss "I've never seen you like this before... Didn't think time lords... Got … horny" she whispered

As she ground on him, he growled lowly. "Oh... oh believe me. I'm extremely... horny. You have no idea how much self-control I'm struggling to hold over myself right now."  He leaned in and began to kiss and bite her throat roughly at her words.

she gasped and moaned a little "This all because you've been down here acting human for a few days? Or do you struggle with self-control around me in the Tardis too?" She asked between kisses as she pealed the suspenders off his shoulders and began undoing his shirt buttons

"You... have no idea how hard it is to act normal around you." He mumbled in between bites before kissing up her jaw and back to her lips, kissing her roughly and slipping his tongue into her mouth.

"how hard is it?" She teased her words having a double meaning as she returned to the make out her tounge battling with his

He moaned softly into the kiss before pulling back just slightly to speak. "You'll find out just how hard it is soon enough." He replied before leaning back down and kissing her again, his hands gripping onto her tightly as his fingers started kneading into her legs. He was getting more and more flustered by the second but he just didn't care. All he wanted was her.

she deepened their kisses even further and wrapped her arms around his shoulders grinding her hips some more, and as she did he forced her down on her back flipping them from her sitting in his lap to him hovering over her never once breaking to her kiss, she moans at the feeling of being pinned to the bed by him,

The Doctor groaned lowly when she moaned and wrapped a leg around him. He could feel the heat in his gut flaring up and his erection was starting to get uncomfortable in his pants very quickly as he kept up his end of the kiss. One of his hands started to slowly slide up her thigh and under her dress, while the other was pressing into the mattress beside her head.

she pulled back moaning his name and she made eye contact "How far do you want this to go?"

He leaned down and began to leave a trail of kisses down from her jawline to her neck. "That depends... how far do you want this to go?"  He mumbled into her neck, gently biting down on it every so often. His hand that was still on her thigh was getting very close to her crotch, only a few inches away now.

She twisted her fingers into his hair and moaned "I asked you first" she teased

The Doctor shivered a little as her fingers got tangled in his hair, enjoying the feeling of her tugging on it. He slowly moved down her neck and began to focus on her collarbone instead "I'll follow your boundaries. There's not a single thing I would do without you completely consenting." He mumbled before suddenly biting down on her collarbone, not hard enough to hurt her but hard enough to make her gasp.

"there not much I wouldn't consent to right now..." She gasped

He smirked against her skin and started kissing along her collar bone again. "And there's not a limit to what I want to do to you... but we've got all night, we can stop whenever we want to."

"humm tell me something wild and ... Unpredictable doctor" she teased him throwing her head back "Beyond kissing, touching and grinding, something wild close to the edge of your limits you want to do" she whispered

His smirk against her skin widened as she said that and his fingers slid up that final few inches until they pressed on the damp spot right on the front of panties He started to slowly and gently press circles into the front of her panties, his breath getting shallower as he did so. He started whispering into her ear with each circle he pressed. "I want to... make you mine. Make you completely and utterly mine... I want all of your moans, your gasps, your sounds and faces."

"Doctor!" She moaned 

The Doctor shivered when she moaned out his name, starting to press harder into her. He started to bite the edge of her ear as he spoke. "You're driving me wild, Y/n... I can't hold you close enough... I can't seem to kiss you long enough..."

she giggled "You never answered me... Tell me something unexpected you desire doctor, and I'll make us even closer" She smirked sitting up a little and pulling off her dress and peeling off her tights leaving her in her blue lace bra and panties

He stared down at her as she took off her dress and tights and his eyes widened slightly when he realized she was left in Tardis blue. His tongue slid out and licked his lips a bit as he stared at her, taking in her beauty. "Oh, you clever girl..." His one hand slid up her waist to her bra. "I want... I want to... keep you. Forever." He mumbled, gently running his fingers up the back of her bra, looking her in the eyes as he finally undid the clasp with a bit of a flick of his fingers.

she playfuly sqealed as the clasp was undone "your a time lord, I'm sure there is some science that could allow you to keep me forever" she cooed throwing her head back and moaning as he kissed down her neck and pulled the bra off her with his teeth

"Forever and ever..." He mumbled, kissing her neck for a moment before pulling back as the bra came off. He gently slipped the bra off her arms and began to kiss down her chest, gently nibbling at her skin between kisses. "Mmm, oh, I'm sure they have... but I don't think they have anything quite like... what I have in mind." His fingers gently slid down her side as he said that. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, gently pinning her to the bed and leaning down to kiss over one of her breasts. His tongue slipped out and

"doctor!" She squeals

He grinned against her skin. "Mmm, Y/n..." His teeth gently bit down on one of her nipples, gently tugging at it

"AHH!" She whined in pain

The Doctor immediately lifted his head with a worried look in his eyes. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" He asked quickly, his expression going from slightly sadistic to concerned in a split second.

"teeth might be too hard, hands are fine but your teeth are sharp"

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He said softly, giving her breast a small peck as an apology. "I forgot that I have very sharp teeth... I'll be more careful... but my fingers will work just as well."

she nodded and pulled him back to kiss her

He kissed her back, gently cupping her breast with his hand as he kissed her. He kept the kiss gentle, keeping a mental note to not bite her skin with his teeth again. His fingers gently ran over her skin before gently kneading into her breast, trying to find the exact way to touch her that she would like. He soon found it after tugging and rubbing her nipple as she moaned loudly squeezing her legs around him, He broke away from the kiss and looked down at her. Hearing her moan and squeeze her legs around him made something snap in him "Do you have any idea... what you do to me right now?"

she shook her head as she gasped

He growled lowly and let a few swears out before he gently pushed her back down onto the bed and leaned over her. "I want you. Now."

"no complaints from me... But two requests"

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between her eyes and her lips. "Oh, really...? What kind of requests then?"

"I think we should get a towel so we don't make a wet sweaty mess of your bed here" she smiled half serious and half to tease him

His lip twitched into a small smirk. "I might have actually thought about that, give me one second." He bent down and gave her a quick kiss before pushing off the bed and walking over to one of the cupboards. He bent down and rummaged around for a moment before standing back up with a light blue towel.

she giggled laying it on the bed for them to lay over "The only issue with this is you won't be able to take your stained sheets to the laundry to show off" she smirked

He rolled his eyes in amusement. "Oh shush, do you always have to tease me?" He asked jokingly as he approached the bed, unbuttoning his trousers with a small grin.

she bit her lip excitedly but she rested a hand on his stomach as he stood by the bed "I have one more request"

He stopped unbuttoning his trousers and looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. A slight smirk was still across his lips just barely and he looked curious. "Another request? What is it then?"

she teased him by tugging down his trousers and boxers "oohh doctor" she moaned at the sight of him as she began kissing his erection, lapping at his skin and sucking a little 

He immediately groaned when she started kissing him, feeling her breath on his skin. "Y/n..." His fingers slid into her hair, gently running through it and tugging at it as he stared down at her, his hips already trying to twitch toward her and get more friction on his skin.

she pulled back and kissed him one last time "my request... Is just that you make sure to ... You know" she cooed as she laid down on the bed "I love you doctor but... I don't really want a half-timelord baby right now"

He laughed softly. "I am more than capable of pulling out." He mumbled, kissing her gently for a few seconds before leaning back, crawling his way up her body with a grin that looked vaguely predatory. He grabbed her legs and pulled her so that she was laying down at the top of the bed with her legs spread around him and her knees on his shoulders as he stared down at her. "You look beautiful like this... with your hair spread out on my pillows, all splayed out for me to see." He mumbled softly.

"I have a feeling that ... I'm going to have to get use to looking like this when we are back on the Tardis"

He grinned and slowly ground down into her, letting out a groan at the friction. "Oh yes... you most certainly will."

"I have visions of it... On your bed, the library sofa, the pool, the kitchen counters... Maybe even the console room floor" she teased grinding with each suggestion

He growled lowly as his eyes fluttered as she ground back into him, his fingers gripping her hips. "You're going to get that and more, my lovely Y/n..."

"I'm sure I will ..." She blushed "maybe even when you take me to Galifray you could have sex with me there too" she teased him

His eyes widened, he had not been expecting her to say that. His mind immediately went to several different things, his Tardis, the forest of the Untempered Schism, the citadel... his home. His mind was very distracted for a couple seconds before he shook his head and started to laugh. "Oh... you will be the death of me..."

"will I?" She giggled

"Oh yes... that you will." He leaned in and kissed her deeply. He moaned into the kiss, one hand running down her leg and wrapping it around his waist.

Y/n blushed and kissed back,

as finally, he tugged off her panties leaving nothing between them, He broke the kiss with a soft gasp and looked down at her, his eyes darkened and filled with lust as he started to slowly grind into her. "Oh... you are absolutely breathtaking, my darling."

she blushed, and giggled before she pulled him into another kiss and her hand stroked his erection "so? You going to make me yours or wait all night?"

He immediately moaned into the kiss and pushed into her hand, his hands tightening slightly on her hips as he did so. "Oh... I am going to make you mine..."  He mumbled He pulled away from her for a moment, just long enough to grab a pillow. He held her still for a moment, just long enough to push the He pushed the pillow under her hips, angling her up slightly. "Perfect... absolutely perfect..." He mumbled with darkening eyes.

she giggled excitedly As she did that he slowly pushed into her, his head fell forward so his forehead was on her shoulder and he groaned into her skin.

"Oh..."

"Doctor!" She squealed her hand on his stomach

He froze for a moment when she squealed, a small smile pulled at his lips as he started to kiss her shoulder. "Mmm, my beautiful Y/n..." His hips started to move slowly, pulling out and pushing back into her

she moaned loudly her head thrown back in utter ecstasy

He kept his kisses on her shoulder, pulling on a particular patch of her skin with a gentle bite before soothing it over with his lips and tongue. He leaned up as she tossed her head back and his own moans mingled with hers and his free arm wrapped around her waist. "Oh, you feel like pure paradise, my darling..."

she couldn't even make words just moans of his name over and over, her mouth open, her eyes rolled back, her head thrown back, her body arching and convulsing in sudden pleasures

He stared at her face and her body's movements, absolutely entranced by the way she looked in the heat of the moment. His own moans and groans were low and husky, growing deeper as the heat and passion between them rose. "Oh... that's it, my darling, come undone for me..." he groaned as he moved faster, harder and more merciless on her. Their kisses intense and full of moans, the bed banging hard against the walls. 

She grabbed his arms hard digging her nails in and squeezing her legs around his waist as she threw her head back and tightened around him as she hit her orgasm, 

The meer feeling of being inside her when she did was enough for him too as he quickly pulled out sending his seed onto the towel just beside her thigh. 

And suddenly both were a mess of gasping and sweat, The doctor laid down on the bed beside Y/n the two for a while just gathering their breath and strength.

“I think that sold the illusion,” She nodded,

“Yeah… I think so,” he chuckled, “But… the rest isn’t an illusion, I really did mean it all,”

“I know you did,” she smiled, “So… once this human pretending is over? Things will go back to normal.”

“With one exception my darling,” He cooed, "Our kisses, our cuddles, and... more will continue if you wanted them to?"

"I want them to," she nodded,

"did you maybe... want to scrap the illusion and just be my girlfriend?"

"I'd like that very much,"

"So would I," he smiled pulling her back into a kiss, 

Tag Requests -

@mushycore

[ghost-bison]

Some of my favourite Doctor Who fanfiction (mostly One Shots)

Drawing Nearer by Geat (Ninth Doctor/reader, Ninth Doctor & reader) on AO3

This author understands the beauty of Nine like no one else does. Like fuck. Wow. If you want something immersive and soft and beautiful this is the one. Actually, even if you don't, this is the one. You need it in your life believe me. And! If you're into the Tenth Doctor instead, or just want more of the amazing stuff after you finish the first one, there's a sequel to it, Like One of My French Girls?, which explores the same prompt (reader drawing a portrait of the Doctor) with a freshly regenerated Tenth Doctor. Which is really clever and witty so you should read it as well.

Immolation by songofdefiance (Donna Noble & Twelfth Doctor, feat. Bill Potts) on AO3

This one is what would happen if the writers were geniuses. It's a whole episode and holy shit it doesn't matter who your favorite characters are: it's for everyone. It's so smart I felt like an idiot reading it. (and yes the 1k words comment on there is me lmao don't judge me I was just very enthusiastic)

Children of the Time War series by illyriashade56 (Donna Noble & Tenth Doctor) on AO3

There's a reason I've read so many fics from this author. Had trouble picking a favorite, and still can't, but this one deserves whatever publicity I can give it. It's got it all. Holy crap. Hurt/Comfort, nice Donna whump, amazing descriptions, solid plot, and you know what's good? Once you're done reading this one, you can check her account and read another one cause they're all so good. I haven't read part three yet cause I'm keeping it for a perfect night (do y'all do this as well or is it just me? anyways lol, some fanfics are just so good that I need to shower, change my bed sheets, make a playlist and clean my room before reading them) (also the author is nice and I'm referring you to her account if you want to check more of her stuff: @illyriashade56)

Run (To A New Beginning) by Topaz_Eyes (Donna Noble/Tenth Doctor) on AO3

Just like the previous one, I had trouble picking just one from this author. The sex scenes dont seem to exist just out of horniness, they're really, really good, funny, witty and moving in a way I can't explain. The author has a way with words, it feels like you're in the story (so if you're horny for Donna Noble this is the one for you). And if you don't like explicit scenes, still check out the author, they've got some other amazing stuff! Like a bittersweet, sort of fix-it for Donna's ending (Journey's End).

The Awesome and Entirely True Tale of the Doctor's New Companion by TheBigCat (Donna Noble/Ninth Doctor) on AO3

Honestly this one slaps on all aspects and that's all I have to say. You need to read it. And when you have, you need to read it again.

Stress Fracture by Youth_of_Australia (Donna Noble & Twelfth Doctor) on AO3

I wasn't expecting to love this one so much when I clicked on it. The author specifically says they don't like Twelve and that's their bitter take on him. So you'd expect it to be Twelve slander, but actually, and I'm saying that as a big Twelve fan... it's surprisingly accurate. It's a mature, well-thought take, in the point of view of Donna, it bathes in the remains of TenDonna's friendship in bittersweet ways and it's beautiful and sad and nostalgic.

The Greeting-Card Aisle by twelvedimensional (Donna Noble & Ninth Doctor) on AO3

Pissed myself reading this one (all three times), cause it's so real. This author knows what they're doing. Take Nine and Donna, put them in a room together and that's certainly what's gonna happen. And believe me, the result is side-splitting.

Constructive Criticism by goldenrod (Donna Noble/Ninth Doctor) on AO3

A very sexy take on Donna and Nine as traveling companions. Nine only has eyes for Donna and her boobies (as he should). Oh, and it's sassy and hilarious.

Creature Fear by goodbye2pisces (Donna Noble/Tenth Doctor, Donna Noble & Tenth Doctor) on AO3

This one could very well be canon. I need it as an audio book. It's cute, funny, there's a bit of Donna/Ten whump, it can be read as platonic or romantic, and it has the most adorable little epilogue.

Think Outside the Box by TheAsexualofSpades (Tenth Doctor & kid!reader) on AO3

Basically if you love Ten but don't wanna fuck him, if you had a rough day and no one's around for a hug, if you grew up with emotionally distant parents, or if you simply need to have a good crybaby moment, this one's for you.

I'm On Fire by TheDarkMaterial (Donna Noble/River Song, Donna Noble & River Song) on AO3

Just like the last one, this one's kinda like a warm blanket. It's short, it's healing, it might make you cry nice little tears... also idc it's canon to me.

Appetites by EllyF (Donna Noble & Tenth Doctor) on whofic.com

This one is hard to read because it's very graphic on the Ten whump, but... it's fucking worth it. Trust. Me. Jfc. It's Hurt/Comfort so don't worry for yourself, but the angst is real, the gore is terrific, there are some horrible comparisons in there that will absolutely draw some tears, and the frustration will be real, but when you're done with it, you'll be like Wow. Wtf did I just read.

Only Human by Louiecat68 (Donna Noble/Tenth Doctor) on whofic.com

If you're looking for Donna whump, search no more: this is the place. This one's pretty graphic, pretty horrible, Donna's going through it in all possible ways and you'll want to wrap her in a blanket, feed her burgers and hot chocolate and burn the world down around her. Quite literally.

The Doctor is In by crystanagahori (Martha Jones & Tenth Doctor, Martha Jones & Donna Noble, Donna Noble/Tenth Doctor) on AO3

This one's funny and so sweet and you have no trouble reading it in the characters' voices cause it's faithful to all three of them. I don't read Martha fics usually, I only clicked cause I saw TenDonna, but even if you're like me, you'll have no problem reading it even when it focuses on Martha's life, believe me. The vibe's just immaculate.

Your Eyes Aren't Rivers by ClementineCrane & Multifandomfuckfest (Donna Noble/Tenth Doctor) on AO3

Another one where the vibe's immaculate! Basically one of the things that made me want to write a Doctor Who High School AU of my own. Ten and Donna are absolutely adorable in this.

I'm tagging some people who'd probably be interested in one/some of those:

@bobcatblahs

@madhatter0309

@doctordonnasstuff

@brisingr-sword

@peggysbundy

@doctor-donnaa

@daze-stole-ur-milk

@obsessedanddepressed

@doctordonna-protection-squad

@jellojellyroll

@basmathgirl

@illyriashade56

@ichangemyusertoomuch

@tatennant

@paradox-n-bedrock

@cdyssey

@love-in-the-time

@davidtennan-t

@rushinintolove

@whatsfourteenupto

@nat-20s

@thegingergoddess

@odakota-rose

If some of you read/have read one or several of those and wanna interact feel free to dm me :)

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 18

Synopsis: The Doctor makes good on his thoughts. His fawn becomes trapped in them.

A/n: listen I know it's been fucking ages. Life's difficult. I'm back. Hopefully. Yall still want him? Warnings for blood and such.

You felt yourself muffle a yawn as you stumbled half-drunk with your boyfriend holding you upright. You settled on calling him your boyfriend. It felt, at least partially, correct. You didn’t really know how long that his species lived. He could have still been young by his standards. Well over two-thousand years young, but you mentally digressed.

The night air slapped you sober.

You didn’t realize how much you had drunk. Your mind was absolutely swimming. It felt like you couldn’t maintain a solid stream of thought. Moreover, it felt entirely different than your usual scatter-brained web of concepts that could be linked easily by you and you alone. Many found you off-topic or impertinent, but they didn’t get that you were being respectful and your mind was linking everything to the subject at hand that was even vaguely related.

The Doctor did, however. These thoughts soothed you. Thinking about him was becoming more important than air in your lungs. He seemed to always be exactly in your direction and understood what was going on.

You blinked as quickly as you could as you were slumped into the taxi by the Doctor. His brilliant smile beamed at you like the cat and that dammed canary. No one you had met before or since carried the gravity of his grins. His teeth always on display, even if it his mouth had been turned down and closed. Images of wolves suddenly floating in your head.

You really must have over estimated that last drink!

His fingers played with the tendrils of your hair. Smoothing it, fingering the last of your dead ends.

They felt good. You felt both emboldened by this tactile display of affection and a little embarrassed. The thoughts you always had towards him felt warranted. Always. He was always inviting them, even if he didn’t seem like it. That was something that stuck with him since the first time you walked into his classes.

Tactile and seemingly unaware that the entire way he carried on was like catnip. Or he was aware and didn’t care. You didn’t know or care.

All of time and space, countless lovers. Countless companions. Endless wanderlust…

And here he was. Some universal warrior deity. Yet, here he was settling down, taking cabs and being escorted around just because you frankly didn’t want to become a statistic. He apparently had the ability to pick up and go to whenever, wherever and not have to worry about traffic or delays.

But for you? He had tamed himself.

His universe had become small, just you, his very attractive ex-situationship in her hidden Vault, these military organizations, and that Nardole you’ve never seen.

From the complaints left by him over literally everything, (including your relationship with the Doctor!) You weren’t quite sure you wanted to meet him.

What a nerd and a narc!

Soon enough, you found yourself back in the room. All cozy and pliant. Eager to see him naked and act out all of those hidden thoughts that you couldn’t repress in the pub. Your wobbly legs betrayed you as you went to yank your shoes off and toss your purse down.

“Damn.” You giggled as you adjusted yourself and rub the bridge of your nose with the base of your palm. “Tell me to never drink that much again in public…” You shook your head.

He leaned down to your level and bit your lower lip as he pulled your top off and laying feverish new bites on where he bit you last night. Hard, sharp and definitely not helping that growing wet spot on your panties. One of those impressive, perfect hands grasped your jaw and covering virtually all of your face squeezed lightly.

You felt your mind suddenly grow very dim and yet ravenous. You needed this, you needed him.

He certainly had no troubles liberating you from your clothes. Or somehow getting his belt and pants around his knees.

“You’re really something strange, aren’t you?” He mused as he tore himself out of the flesh of your nipple. You could feel the blood start to fleck up.

Definitely would have to take even more time off work than you already were doing…

He slowly and deliberately pinned you to the ground as he managed to take both of your wrists in one of his long-fingers hands. His expression clouded by lust and one of those emotions you thought were clearly something that humans just didn’t have in them. It seemed imperious and predatory, yet all too adoring.

You were awash. Your cunt ached. Your mind felt itself retract- like you were actively getting stupid trying to make eye contact with him. You felt yourself muffle a groan as he slipped his cock in in a firm and savage thrust.

The hand at your jaw and face tightened. You could feel the corner of a nail cut into your face.

This seemed about you and also not. More about him.

All your training (for lack of a better word…) seemed to flee. Here he was, one of the last of his species, cradling your pinned body to the hull of the floor as he drilled your leaking pussy. It seemed like he was saying something in that horrific, almost song like language he used to visit Missy in her Vault.

It sent a bone-chilling shake through your system. Just like when you first heard it. Not that you could judge.

Not like you could at this moment. His grip on you increased as he fucked you harder. Each thrust came quicker and deeper. You found the pain both increasingly hard to ignore but more lovely with each savage groan he made. It was enjoyable. Too much so. Felt alien. Felt deranged.

The grip on your face tightened once more! Your tongue pinned by his thumb.

You felt yourself start to convulse as your mind went blank. Blissfully and inhumanely blank. Did you cum? Was this you cumming? You didn’t know.

You didn’t even register his teeth nearly ripping the soft area between your neck and clavicle to shreds.

How long did he go on? You could swear you heart a haunting song being sung in your mind. Time slipped further down…

Was it more of him speaking?

You finally got your mind back in pieces as he finished on your stomach. The sensation snapped you back to reality. Your heart began racing. You felt yourself start to cry.

You felt so great, yet more than a little violated. (Was this normal, you felt yourself wander in your mind, what was this?)

He seemingly realized something.

He shushed you as he collected your shaking form in his lap. You felt so tiny. Like a small dog on a rich lady’s lap. You felt your eyes try to focus on him.

“My sweet fawn. You did so well. You’re so perfect for me.” He resumed in English.

His hand wiped the tears and blood and your hair back.

Your eyes couldn’t focus completely yet.

“You are…all I need. All I want.” He reassured you as he rocked you back and forth. “Don’t worry. No one in any corner of the universe can lay a finger on you.”

This was the comfort that restored your vision entirely. You looked at him. You felt like you were some primitive human seeing a God! Scared, in full adoration, and more than a little servile. The tears began again. More shushing, more petting, more praise. You curled so deeply into his chest and wept harder. You swore you never cried so hard in your life. You felt so incredibly good, yet every part of you burned and ached.

You hiccupped and he stroked the back of your neck. It made you go slightly limp.

“Why don’t I wash you, hmm?” He offered as he pulled you up in his arms and carried you into the bathroom. He laid you down and grabbed your shower stuff.

He tested the water on him. It seemed to go on for a while.

He washed you and even did your skin care on your still limp form.

“Fawn?” He asked as you caught your body in mirror. You were pale and bruised. Scabs had started to form on you.

It was shocking.

“I…can’t work like this?” Was all you managed to choke out.

“I’ve got you. When were back in Bristol, yeah? I’ve gotten some alien technology in my TARDIS. You won’t even have a scar.” He offered, a smile creeped up his face. It seemed smug and self-serving.

You shook yourself.

You trusted him, fully without any hesitation. If he said so, he said so.

He slid your into your pajamas and slid next to you in bed. Still naked.

“Sleep.” He commanded as he wrapped his arms around you. “Tomorrow, I need your help.”

And as if by magic, you felt yourself slip into a deep sleep. You dreamed of swirling galaxies and more strange songs twisted into it.

When you woke, it was with such a fright. He wasn’t next to you, and it made you panic. He was already dressed. He was twirling some object in his hands.

“You’ve slept in. Not that I can blame you…” He snorted. “Don’t worry, I’ve taken the liberty of choosing clothes. I’ve even got breakfast!”

He offered you a cup of coffee and helped you out of bed.

It was simple, a black tank top and a pair of jeans. He offered you the sheer lace shrug you planned on using as layering if he took you out again for a night out on town.

“I’ve been meaning to give this to you.” He slid you a gold chain with a small, but heavy pendant on it. It had some small circular design on it. It swirled around itself and had some dots in places.

“I know how you enjoy jewelry.” He motioned to the tangled knot of necklaces you wore all day, every day, even in sleep.

You went to put it on. It rested as if fighting the small symbols of your faith for attention on your person. Or, perhaps, even your soul itself...

He parted them for you and made sure that his special necklace rested firmly under the hollow of your throat.

“I meant it last night. Not even the Cybermen could take you from me. The entire dark hoards of the Never Were’s and Always Was’s will not harm you so long as you’re by my side.” His tone shifted as he helped you help yourself to a bit of the porridge he had for you.

You still shook.

He let you apply your make up. You decided it was no use to try to waste all your concealer and foundation on the wounds on your neck.

He tousled your hair and smiled at you.

He helped you into your shoes and you both walked out of the door. You firmly found your nails grasping into his coats arm as you still were having trouble even standing, yet alone walking.

The lift ride down into a subterranean area, meeting all these people was quiet. Petronella and that Lethbridge-Stewart woman and more were waiting.

They all focused on you and you could feel their eyes bore into your neck and chest. You didn’t know what to feel.

You instinctively took all your cues from him.

All these soldiers and scientists did too. They all spoke of things that seemed beyond your recently tousled-haired comprehension.

When the Doctor spoke to you, and used your real name to get your opinion, you jumped. To hear your own name, especially from him now seemed foreign.

A fawn you shall be, you felt yourself say in your mind.

You made up some fake statistic about something. You had to. Your mind was flailing and you looked at your good Doctor as if that would help.

You mind felt never more silent. It felt odd.

You shook yourself once more.

You felt your mind flood back in. It was a sharp, tickling sensation. Loud, screaming and on high alert. As if it had been forced down and silenced on purpose.

You swept those thoughts aside. He needed you, and needed you to focus and help him.

Suddenly all the tawdry statistics about crime in metropolitan areas you studied for papers came rushing in. It was very good. Apparently, they were looking for what petty crimes could be aliens doing a bad job at integration and were pushing some prearranged boundaries on when they could emerge and the planet could feasibly support aliens and humans as willing co-sponsors of the planet.

They took your data and entered it in.

Success!

“She’s a whizz with those, yeah?” The Doctor pointed at hand at you and praised you openly. “Great stuff.”

It made your cheeks flush and your panties get a little wet spot on them. You felt nothing but a soothing warmth spread from your scalp to the soles of your feet.

Him and a few other scientists went to go prime something. You didn’t know what.

You went to the small area set up for self-service of tea and coffee. Petronella trailed after you. It was a hard journey, you wobbled a few times for such a short trip.

“Those are some marks?” She pried at you as she pointed towards where the Doctor had given you in the night. “Were you attacked last night when you were out?” The deep care and worry in her voice made you feel a vacant ache in your chest.

“No, no. No?” You stuttered. Your hand automatically went to the most egregious of them. Teeth marks fully imprinted as reddish-black stabbed divots.

“Then where’d you get them?” More concern in her tone.

Your eyes flashed over to the Doctor and then to the ground. You didn’t know how to respond.

She muttered a barely audible “Oh.” Her eyes gazed at you with understanding. “Did you have fun?” She asked for lack of a better way to press on. Her eyes looked back at the Doctor and back at the mess that was your neck and chest in a few quick takes. She seemed like her mind was trying to wrap itself around something.

Did you? You could hardly recall most of it.

You chalked it up to the alcohol in your system.

“Yeah.” You nodded your head. “We had fun.”

She didn’t seem to disagree. Although, a glint of something rested in the back corners of her eyes…

She trailed you back to your seat.

You let a long, shaky breath as you went to sip more coffee. You wished he was the one helping you drink. Your hands still were not exactly stable. Him doing that at breakfast was oddly fitting. Felt like it should be that way.

You gave more opinions and input. He lauded on the praise.

The wet spot was growing in size under your jeans. Your cunt was positively aching once again. Your heart raced.

It felt like he was winding you up.

Maybe he was…

[cloudrunnerscinnamon]

I guess I am back ...

(gif not mine)

Took me a while but here I am again writing fanfiction and fuck me that feels good!

So since I haven't written anything in quite some time – please be gentle. :) It is not perfect but it is a start. Here it goes. Enjoy!

Short, little something about the 12th Doctor and his travel companion. It is very fluffy. What I would imagine to be an almost „normal“ day in the Tardis.

The usual banter

„Well then stop complaining and just read it to me.“ (Y/N) said while she was walking through the many hallways of the Tardis holding a book in her hands. She was on her way to a more comfortable place to rest. She had spent the last half an hour reading, sitting on one of the chairs in the Tardis main console room. However her back had started to ache and she really did want to snuggle in under a blanket now. 

„When you were sitting on the chair I could at least pretend that you were listening to me being all clever. If you go away I got no one to be clever for.“

The Doctor trotted grumpily behind his friend inclined to follower her until he eventually would persuade her to return back to the console room. 

„Oh you poor thing you,“ (Y/N) twirled around while still walking and gave the doctor a puppy dog lock. Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on him at all. 

„I know you just want my attention because you are incapable of enjoying some down time. But I am not - so please just let me read my book in peace and finde someone else to impress.“ Continuing on in her path, (Y/N) heard the Doctor huffing out a loud breath. She smiled to herself. This was them having a good time. Simple, friendly banter mixed with a bit of truth and a piece of spite. 

„What are you reading anyways?“ The Time Lord inquired even though he already knew what (Y/N) was reading. 

He had checked out the title the minute the woman had picked up the book. He had only kept up his monologue about quantum physics and why it should be taught in Kindergarden to make sure she did not realize he was actually just paying attention to her. His mouth had been on auto pilot doing its own thing. Flushing out knowledge which sounded reasonable enough to not make (Y/N) suspicious. The Doctor’s eyes though were roaming over his friend. They had drunk in every detail about her. She had been sitting a little hunched forward, cross-legged on a console room chair and the Doctor knew her neck would hurt later. 

How she delicately held the book, absently running her index finger over the spine. Every other minute one of her hands would pull back a stray strand of hair which had fallen into her vision for the what seemed like the hundredth time. He smiled softly angling his head down a little, turning to the side just a bit so he wouldn’t give himself away. (Y/N)’s expressions were what captured him the most. She could run through so many facial expressions in seconds while reading and she didn’t even know it. 

After The Doctor and (Y/N) had started to travel together he had soon learned that she was an adamant reader. Always carrying a book with her which in fact had come in more handy than he could have thought. Soon he had revealed to her the big library the Tardis had to offer and she had spent countless hours in there since then. 

So to be honest the Doctor adored how much (Y/N) loved reading and was utterly stunned how much happiness it invoked in her. It made him feel like he could also maybe finde simple things that made him happy. It gave him hope and comfort. Nevertheless he would never admit this out loud. The teasing, the raillery and how they would always end up sitting together reading, talking about it, shushing each other when they wanted to make a point. He loved it, he loved her - which was a secret and something he pushed deep down, well away, avoiding the whole subject. 

To answer his question (Y/N) just held the book up over her shoulder. 

„You have read this one at least 3 times!“ The thick Scottish accent of this Doctor’s incarnation couldn’t possibly be more prominent. When he continued (Y/N) had to close her eyes for a second. She would never be able to un-hear that low dark rumble of a voice and it gave her the shivers - the good ones. 

„How can you read that again, it’s not getting any better. Wasn’t really good to begin with and—“

„5 times, I read it 5 times and it’s my favorite so don’t mock it you old grump.“ She said with a twinkle. Another huff from behind her and then she had reached the door to her room. 

The door slide upwards with a silent, swift movement and (Y/N) entered her room. 

It was a while back, when on a whim the Doctor had decided that it was time to give (Y/N) her own room. She had been traveling with him for well over a year and even though the Tardis was good at providing the woman with everything she needed when ever she went looking for it, the Time Lord really wanted to extinguish the thought of her just being a guest. So in addition to a key for the Tardis (Y/N) also had gotten a room. 

It was in itself a relatively large space however a comfortable king-sized bed, a dark green corduroy couch, several shelves filled with books and other stuff, as well as an antique wooden desk and a well-worn armchair made it look very cozy. Somehow the Tardis had managed to build in a big round window which was laid in deep enough so one could sit on the sill and marvel at the stars. A wooden stool was placed under it for better reach and the nook was set up with different sized cushions and blankets. There was no harsh light source, the whole room was illuminated by tiny fairy lights and garlands (Y/N) had hung in different corners and on the ceiling. Over time some of her drawings, keepsakes and other things had made its way onto the walls. There was a small bouquet of flowers, dried now put still carefully placed into a vase upon a small table next to the arm chair. Flowers (Y/N) had collected during one of the many adventures with the Doctor. In a corner by the bed was an old chair, layers of cloth made it almost invisible. Some of them had slit down onto a fluffy large rug. Somehow all of this captured so much of (Y/N)’s character and the space truly had become hers. It filled the Doctor with joy every time he noticed. 

When (Y/N) had just started staying in her own room the Doctor made a point to not enter it. He didn’t want to seem intrusive or else overstepping boundaries so he simply avoided the space all together. But as time passed those boundaries got pushed around and eventually evaporated. It appeared to be that neither the Doctor nor (Y/N) really minded the other in their rooms. Which is why, without hesitation, the Time Lord followed his friend inside. 

(Y/N) went straight for the big couch and crawled onto the shorter side of the L shape. Here she could finally rest her back comfortably against the big cushions and cover herself with that large blanket she had been craving. A happy sigh slipped over her lips and the plain words of her book started to take colorful form in her head. It could have been perfect but a few seconds in and (Y/N) had to avert her gaze from those pages just to see a rather cross Time Lord standing in front of her. His head was tilted to the side and he wore a what you could call a question-mark-expression on his face. It did nothing for him combined with his constantly peeved eyebrows but (Y/N) still smiled and sat up a little more. 

„You are not, you are really not?“ Lost for words, the Doctor in his bewilderment gestured between the room and the door, his hands flying around. 

„You are really going to just sit here and read that book?“ The Doctor pointed at the book as if he was trying to stab it. (Y/N) knew that the Doctor in fact did have a hard time wrapping his head around the concept of just doing nothing or at least not achieving anything, albeit one could argue reading was a great achievement. So she understood, some of this was show, familiarity, daily life with each other but still there was a little truth hidden in the Doctor’s words. He needed her to keep out the loneliness, the dark thoughts and perhaps even memories. The Doctor’s mind was much easier to carry when it was occupied. And most days (Y/N) was happy to oblige. She loved being his companion. One adventure after another, long sleepless nights and so many stories he could tell but some days she simply needed to rest. Catch her breath in someway. „Hey did you just silently insult my book with your finger. Cos I saw that!“ (Y/N) chuckled and rolled her eyes in a fake annoyed manner. She defensively covered the book with her hands mocking him. The Doctor drew in a breath and put his hands on his sides revealing the red lining of his long coat. His signature move, (Y/N) thought and she had to laugh at that. He really was a child sometimes, stomping his feet. 

„Come on now Doc. You have three options here,“ her thumb went up to indicate the different alternatives. 

„Number one: you can either sit down and be quiet,“ second finger joined, „ number two: you can go away do what ever the hell you want or,“ third finger rose, „ number three: and this is my preferred option, you can sit down, snuggle in and read the book to me.“ (Y/N) wiggled her fingers at the Time Lord and shrugged. 

„Your pick.“

To the Doctor there really weren’t three options here, all he truly wanted was to be close to (Y/N). She calmed him, he had figured that out awhile back after they had been traveling together for only a few weeks. Everything around him usually carried some kind of intensity, pressure and he had a tough time ridding himself off that even in the comfort of his Tardis. (Y/N) took that away, she was like a constant that fixed something in him. At first he wasn’t able to accept that. It felt weird to the Doctor that somebody else had such an impact on him but after a while he recognized it as something special. With her around there was no need to go on and keep digging, to keep finding but he never told her that. Old habits die hard and he wasn’t ready to share that knowledge yet. After all he was the Doctor who kept running right? 

Nevertheless (Y/N) did notice that the way the Doctor treated her differed a little from how he carried himself with others. She put it off to all the countless hours they had spent together and them simply being comfortable around each other. Just friends. 

The Doctor grumbled something under his breath and kept lingering in the middle of the room. 

„What was that?“, she asked. Instead of an answer the Doctor took a few long strides towards the Couch. Before (Y/N) could do anything the book was snatched from her hands and with a thud the Doctor plopped down right next to her. He pushed his shoes off putting his feet up and under his companion’s blanket. His left arm came down around (Y/N)’s shoulders and he opened the book at the latest dog-ear. 

„You really have got to stop doing that.“ The Doctor nodded towards the book. „Dog-ears are just horrendous especially for the next reader.“ 

„If you wouldn’t interrupt me so often there’d hardly be any.“ (Y/N) tried to sound offended but she couldn’t hide the smile forming on her lips. She grabbed the Doctor’s hand that was resting on her left arm and squeezed it lightly. His fingers involuntarily interlaced with hers right away and his thumb caressed the back of her hand. This was sweet and surprising. They had been sitting close together before but as of late more often. However it normally didn’t go further than their bodies touching side by side. 

The atmosphere had suddenly changed. The moment came and went and still they were just sitting there quietly, waiting maybe. (Y/N) moved first. She scooted down a little so she could lean more into the Doctor and was able to rest the back of her head on his chest. (Y/N) could feel the rise and the fall of the Time Lord’s breath. Were those thumps his hearts? She couldn’t be sure because her own heart was beating wildly. The Doctor drew in a long breath, he wanted to start reading. As much as he was enjoying the close proximity to (Y/N) he was also scared to give away how much it actually moved him. Reading would at least draw some of his braincells in another direction. He closed his eyes for a second to compose himself, how could he be so nervous? He was The Doctor, the oncoming storm, bringer of darkness and –.  And in the face of feelings remotely in the vicinity of romance he still basically was just a school boy with a crush, tongue tide and clumsy hands. Sensing that the Doctor was hesitating for some reason, (Y/N) turned around a little and peeked up at the Doctor. The look she saw in his eyes startled her. She had seen that kindness and calm before all though hardly ever as unfiltered as it was right then. Yet (Y/N) got a scarce view of something else and it confused her immensely. What was that? (Y/N) let go of the Doctor’s hand and without thinking about it she very softly ran a finger along his face. She started at his hairline slowly tracing it down to his cheekbone, continuing on until she reached the corner of his mouth, drawing a half circle down upon his chin. And before she even realized what she had just done her hand dropped back down lying flat on the Doctor’s chest. 

„I,“ (Y/N)’s voice came out a little raspy and she had to swallow to clear her throat. 

„I thought, I thought I saw, there was something, I…“ She shook her head. 

„Sorry I didn’t mean to just –. How rude of me!“ (Y/N) gained her bearings back and was suddenly very aware of what she had just done. Her face grew red and she felt stupid.

If the Doctor hadn’t been holding his breath before he sure as hell was now. The way she had run her finger down his face and had looked at him while doing so made him speechless. Second time he was lost for words in mere minutes, that’s an accomplishment. All the carefully stored away feelings he harbored for his travel companion came rushing out trying to finally overwhelm him. Well and that was that. It was over, there was no denying it anymore. After all that time and all those rules he put upon himself something just snapped. Fine, here we go then, the Doctor thought. Wrapped up in this huge aha-experience of his, (Y/N) begun to wiggle her way out of there close sitting positions. She didn’t dare look at the Doctor and just wanted to get away. Shocked by the unexpected loss of contact the Doctor panicked a little and dropped the book on the couch He quickly took a hold of (Y/N)s hands. She halted in her movement. Without saying anything the Doctor tucked a little. What he really meant to say was ‚please don’t leave, everything is good. Stay here - with me.‘ but all he managed, owed to his utter lack of being able to say what he really feels, was: 

„Where are you going?“ His voice was soft, no trace of insistence. Silence. They looked at each other. The Doctor didn’t want this to go south, he wanted to save this situation make it go back to where they had been moments ago.Where was time traveling when one really needed it. When (Y/N) clearly wasn’t going to say anything, worse it looked like she still wanted to flee. The Doctor chose to go for chatter. Comfort lies in the known and chatting each others ears off – they knew. 

„So you touched my face, no big deal. Isn’t like you haven’t done that before is it?“ The Doctor tried to sound normal, relaxed even.

„I mean I get it, I am a sight to behold.“ He wiggled his eyebrows and made an upward motion with his hand, flipping long strands of hair around he clearly didn’t have. 

This was funny in itself because this particular regeneration of the Doctor really didn’t think himself handsome or good looking in any way. It had never bothered him too much. However since he felt more and more drawn to (Y/N) in a romantic manner he kind of wished he still was that young, springy, bow-tie version or even the sand-shoed one. 

Finally a small smile on (Y/N)’s lips. Her shoulders relaxed a little too. Just one more for good measure then, the Doctor thought, and we should be reading in no time. 

„Now I haven’t got all day. Do you want me to read this to you or would you rather prefer to map out more of my frowning lines?“ Almost back to her quick-witted self (Y/N) opened her mouth to respond but the Time Lord cut right in. 

„Oh and no I am not doing voices. The last time I did that I had slightly too much red wine and you had broken your fragile human wrist.“ He glared at her one more time smirking and picked the book back up. (Y/N) was moving back into the position she had just left so hasty and slapped the Doctor on his knee. 

„As long as I don’t have to hear anything about quantum physics for the next few weeks I take what I can get, you grouch.“ The Doctor scoffed, giving her a disbelieving look. „I have, you know, on good authority that some people would commit murder to her me lecture about –“ This time (Y/N) went right over the Doctor’s words. 

„Shhh, less talking more reading.“ With that (Y/N) fully leaned back and placed her head on the Doctor’s hearts once more. The Time Lord smiled to himself. When he started to read his thick Scottish accent filled the room, he knew she loved it. 

[anotherwatchedninja]

I feel like people forget Time Lords are the same person across every incarnation.

like, ‘14’ even says that it’s not dying. Same memories, same thoughts about people, sometimes expressing something they can’t, not being able to say something they used to.

Think back to you 10 years ago.

You're probably a very different person now compared to then, but you're also not at the same time.

You probably talk differently now, you see the world differently, you might believe different things.

When The Doctor regenerates, that's the level of change that is done but in a few seconds instead of a decade.

Fundamentally you’re still the same person, and you’ve probably retained most of your core beliefs and interests, but you’ve also grown and learnt more about the world; altering many of your less integral values, and even possibly some of you more integral ones.

you could attribute it to a line from one of the novelisations, where the doctor attributes his lack of control over regeneration (and as we can imply, how bad of a post-regen situation he has) is because he didn’t pay enough attention in regeneration lessons.

I think for the Doctor it's like if you woke up and were suddenly 8 again, with all your 8-year-old impulses and personality and likes/dislikes, but your current memories.

The Doctor is always the Doctor. There's no "2nd Doctor" or "10th Doctor" or "14th Doctor." they're all the same person. Just because someone gets clobbered on the head and wakes up from the resulting brain damage knowing fluent German doesn't mean they disappeared and a new person took their place. His brain gets a shake-up, and his appearance changes, but it's still the same person all together.

I think all the media hype about the actors playing the role, and this weird regeneration for the 60th, kind of make it hard to remember that. For the Doctor, it's one continuous line of consciousness. 10 didn't die and wake up again with 13's memories, because there is no 10, there is no 13, there is only The Doctor. We number their faces but they're one person.

And it's confirmed by what he said immediately after the regeneration. He didn't say, "I'm alive!" or "How did I get here?" or something along those lines. He said, "I know these teeth." He realises that he's reverted to an earlier form, but he hasn't forgotten the intervening forms.

It seems to change not just from writer to writer, but Doctor to Doctor. 9 didn't seem to think of his 'death' as the end by any stretch. 10 considered them different people that shared memories, while 11 seemed to see more continuity and connection from incarnation to incarnation. 12 similarly was refusing to regenerate because he wanted to end it, a pointless position unless he saw 'the next Doctor' as still being him. 13 seemed to lean more towards the individual incarnation view, as she felt in necessary to say goodbye to Yaz.

And this is just the Doctor, a single Time Lord. We've seen extremes from literal dissociation from incarnation to incarnation with the One through Union (aka the collective, but that’s due to their condition), to Romana trying on new faces line a human would a new outfit, or how the monk tries to act like their past selves are different people to shift the blame and get away free from the consequences, or how six was post-regen

I just really don't like the idea of them being separate people, which unfortunately does seem to be RTD's interpretation from 10's line of regeneration feeling like dying, and a new man sauntering away. To me that devalues the idea of the Doctor being the same person from 1963 until today. They're the same person, who have been through the events of every single episode, and remember them and all the companions there travelled with.

If they were different people, them meeting former companions just doesn't have the same weight either. 10 for example becomes someone who just knows of Sarah Jane instead of being the same person who travelled with her.

But that doesn't mean it can't still be confusing when an old face returns. It's something that's never happened to the Doctor before, and perhaps it's something that he's never heard of happening to other Timelords either. So when it does happen he's very confused because he immediately knows who this new version of himself is, instead of having to go through the usual self discovery at the start of each incarnation.

I remember from an audio story (I think Sirens of Time), one of the Doctors (i say DOCTORS because time travel) said something along the lines of this: Take every trait of their personality is like a bar graph. Kindness, courage, alienness, anger threshold, etc. each have their own bar on the graph. Each regeneration is essentially the same personality but the bars could be altered with some traits more emphasized in a new face than the previous one.

Some examples of what I mean.

10 and 11 are examples of the alienness trait being skewed in opposite directions, where I feel Smith is more alien-like in his physical behavior than Tennant is. 12 and 13 still have this trait but it’s viewed more subtly through social interactions.

6 and 12 were less on the kindness scale but increased over time. 10, 11, and 13 seemed to have that kindness trait more emphasized.

Anger threshold /emotional control can get thrown multiple ways if a respective Doctor is impulsive and expressive vs bottling it up and letting it simmer. I feel like there are many examples to pull from off this alone.

There could be more obvious ones I’m missing but these spring to mind. I do like this interpretation since it lets you know it’s the same person but just aspects can be more emphasized than others across their different incarnations.

I like to think it’s just the same person at different points in their life - hell, we aren’t the same person at 18 that we are in our 30’s, or even the same person we are in our 40’s that we were at 30.

Life changes you, sometimes you’re goofy, sometimes you’re callow, and sometimes you’re stern. In DW terminology: you’re a quirky thief, then a person who has to kill everything they know, and then you become a person capable of finding some solace in life… then to a whole new person.

From the doctor’s point of view I believe they think they are the same person, they don’t differentiate between selves. Think of 12 near his start when 11 phoned Clara, he says he didn’t need to eavesdrop because it was him talking and that she looks at him but can’t see him.

Now this doesn’t mean the doctor doesn’t remember the traits each regeneration has, and this can manifest in their subconscious as talking to their different regenerations; but that’s no different than you talking to yourself in your head.

like, it’s even implied 14 will eventually become 15

[doverstar]

A paltry 3 people have asked me to expand on my opinion that Clara (who I like) is bad for the Doctor, so here I go below.

Strap in, this will be long. I disliked Clara back when her tenure was happening live, but upon rewatching the show now, with my husband, I completely changed my mind and grew to really appreciate her and cried when she died. I like Clara. But I came to this conclusion you’re about to read during that rewatch. In a nutshell, Clara and the Doctor’s relationship is unhealthy. Stop wait let me explain-

*hands you the nutshell* First. The show itself acknowledges that this Doctor/companion relationship is something unprecedented and ugly and bad for both of them towards the end. Why? Is it Clara? YES AND NO children. Clara as a companion, personality-wise, is not any different or special than many Classic Who companions, and Jenna Coleman is ridiculously likeable as Clara. I know Clara is The Impossible Girl (because Moffat can’t write 100% ordinary people), and I know she has met all of the Doctors up to Twelve at least once, but take away her decision to throw herself into his timeline – take away the fact that the Master literally orchestrated events so that Clara and the Doctor would travel together because their personalities would create something dangerous and unhealthy in the end – and Clara herself really is just a twenty-something who wants to travel and acts like she’s the coolest person in the room. So Clara herself on the surface wasn’t the catalyst for the relationship becoming unhealthy. At least not the way she was written in the beginning. At first, it’s the Doctor making big Red Flag decisions. And I say that with so much love towards Matt Smith’s Doctor, who is dearly missed in these trying times. The Doctor meets the first version of Clara (from his perspective) as a barmaid/nanny in 20th century London. She’s exceptional (and unnecessarily flirty because Moffat can’t write women who don’t lust after the protagonist) and the Doctor invites her to travel with him. This is huge because the Doctor has just spent who-knows-how-long mourning the Ponds, who he was not ready to lose and who he had grown increasingly afraid of losing before he lost them. He sits on a cloud and has sworn off of travelling or helping anyone because he is that sick of losing people. He’s hurting and he doesn’t want to go through something like that again. The Ponds were just the latest in a very long line of lost people—remember, directly before Amy and Rory, the Doctor had to say goodbye to Donna, Martha, Wilf, Mickey, Jackie, Jack Harkness, Sarah Jane Smith oh my goodness, and Rose Tyler. And then he loses the Ponds. It’s agony. And it just keeps happening to him over and over again, and the Eleventh Doctor is especially vulnerable because he’s so tender-hearted and raw from Tennant’s losses, and this is the first time he’s lost companions with this face. The Eleventh Doctor is literally described by Moffat as the incarnation of the Doctor who chooses to forget. He’s consistently not addressing things like Gallifrey, the Time War, Rose, Donna, Martha, etc. When he’s reminded of them, the only thing he really reacts with is a strained admission of guilt (Let’s Kill Hitler and The Doctor’s Wife, anyone?). Eleven does not focus on what he has lost and worked really, really, selfishly-at-times hard to preserve the safety of the Ponds in particular. And then he loses them and throws a Doctor pity party on a cloud in a top hat.

Enter Nanny Clara, and she reminds him of what he’s missing and how things should be and helps him get his mojo back. Great, good. But she also reminds him of this one chick in the Dalek Asylum who begged the Doctor for help and was already dead. And the Doctor not only loves a mystery, but hates losing (losing people in particular). So he invites this Clara to come away with him and begin his never-ending adventure all over again, because she seems perfect for the job. And then she dies. Just like Oswin the crazy Dalek. Just like Amy and Rory, and the DoctorDonna, and Rose Tyler on the list of fatalities during the incident at Canary Wharf. Like Adric. But the Doctor doesn’t give up and pout in the 20th century this time. Instead, he gets determined to figure out what is connecting Nanny Clara and Dalek Clara, and determined to find a version of this mystery girl who can travel with him and not die this time. Third time’s the charm.

He finds Clara Oswald in the present, saves her life, freaks her out with his desperation to befriend her, and then she finally comes away with him. It’s played incredibly sweet specifically because it’s the Doctor trying to entice a companion and working for it, because he’s already seen she’s the one—twice—and is determined to keep her. This is an inversion of what usually happens, which is that the companion has to prove themselves worthy of the position to the Doctor during a meet-cute adventure. Classy. Fun. But we see from that point forward that the Doctor is kind of…weirdly obsessed with Clara. And not just because she’s appeared as three different-but-the-same people in his life lately, but because he’s the man who forgets and he lost people and never deals with that, and now he has this girl who he’s been unable to save twice before and he wants to make sure that doesn’t happen again. What’s worse, Clara becomes “the ultimate companion”, saving the Doctor throughout all his lifetimes by jumping into his timeline so she’s technically companion to all of him at one point. This is bad because not only is it not fair (as the gamers call it, it’s OP, yes I’m hip with the kids) it solidifies to the Doctor that she is the culmination of all his past failures in companion tenures.

She’s not the ultimate companion; she’s the ultimate do-over.

He’s obsessed with keeping Clara safe. He’s obsessed with keeping her with him. It’s not because Clara is this gorgeous, super-special, Not Like Other Girl(s). It’s not because he’s madly in love with her (though Moffat wants repeatedly to be able to imply that without properly saying it because he can’t write a female who is not in lust with the protagonist, hey let go of my soapbox I’m using that-). It’s not even because he lost two Claras previously and he feels really bad about that. It's because he’s projecting every single failure to keep a companion onto this one girl. The Doctor is trying so hard not to be controlled by the circumstances around him. He is trying so hard to keep this one, just this one, with him this time that he kind of turns into a withdrawal maniac when she’s in danger or choosing to do anything other than travel with him. The Master (Missy) orchestrated events so that Clara and the Doctor would be able to travel together because it was obvious the two of them would destroy each other in the end. The Doctor was such a person (Eleven) at such a time in his long life that could not stand the idea of losing one more friend and would do anything to keep history from repeating itself. He has to have Clara. He can’t quit Clara. She’s all of them. She’s everyone. And poor Clara—Clara is great, but being with the Doctor brings out only the worst in her. The woman is obsessed with herself. She was better off before he came around! Keeping pace with the Doctor, traveling the universe with him, feeling like she had something with him no one else could touch—all of that inflated her sense of importance; she has to be special. She has to be in control. She’s bossy and confident and as long as the Doctor is around, she’s the most incredible human being in her species and he is lucky to have her. That’s how he makes her feel—because it’s obvious he can’t let her go. (“Traveling with you made me feel really special.”) And worse, Clara can’t let him go—but not even specifically the Doctor. The Doctor, to Clara, is only as valuable as he makes her feel. It’s very sad because the two of them are kind of convinced they’re best friends and that’s why they’re together, but that’s not it. They’re not best friends. They’re toxic.

(Best friends do not trick other best friends, lie to them, threaten their way of life and only home to get their boyfriends back and then say “I’m sorry but I’d do it again”. Best friends do not notice that their best friend is there for them in spite of that line of action and then still disregard their best friend’s safety and needs in order to get what they themselves want above all else. Death in Heaven, I hate you.) And! Clara was so rattled by Eleven changing into Twelve. The sweet young man who flirted with her and made her feel so romantically important was gone, now there’s this grisly old fella who is rude to her and makes disparaging personal remarks about her physical appearance, and who doesn’t like hugs. But they’re not done. Because now the relationship has changed even further—we went from “he likes me and he should because I am Important” and “she’s staying with me and she should because I am gonna keep her safe and it won’t be like last time(s) and that’s why she’s special, that’s why she’s Impossible” to “I’m with him because he needs me and because I am Important like he is” and “she’s staying with me and she should because I am gonna keep her safe and she’s still special and she’s still Impossible and I can’t lose her no matter what”.

Clara is controlling and the Doctor is controlling. Missy would have you believe the Doctor won’t be controlled, but that’s just another form of control. The Doctor can’t stop travelling with Clara. Twelve will not let her rest, Twelve will not let her die. Clara will not stay home, Clara will not put anyone or anything else before herself, before traveling and saving the day and feeling special. In fact, it’s gotten to the point where the Doctor treats Clara with such reverence, she actually believes she’s 100% his equal and should be him. That was not a typo. I did not say she should be like him. I said she thinks she should be him. It gets worse and worse as time goes on. Clara thinks she can be the Doctor. She can travel anywhere, she can do whatever she wants, and she will always win. Because she’s important. Because she’s special. She doesn’t realize that she can’t, and that that’s not who the Doctor is anyway. And the Doctor watches Clara get eaten up by this addiction to travel, addiction to heroics. Clara loses Danny and that’s her last tether to normal life. It’s sad because Danny was twice the man anybody expected him to be and he was almost there, almost good enough for Clara to stay and be safe with. But the Doctor and time and space are a tough act to follow, and when Danny died, Clara felt she was owed better. She wasn’t angry because Danny was young and she loved him and she wanted better for him. She was angry because as a time traveling hero, she deserved to have her boyfriend alive and not hit by an ordinary car in the middle of an ordinary day on Earth. (But she wouldn’t have stayed with him anyway, and she wasted so much time with him treating him like he wasn’t special enough and then it was too late. If the Doctor had not been part of the equation, treating her like she hung the stars and making her believe it, they could have been happy. She could have been okay.)

More adventures, more close calls. At this point everything likeable about Clara in the past has faded away because she is just not the same person anymore. She’s ruined. And it’s her fault, and it’s the Doctor’s fault. Clara isn’t addicted to travel or heroics. Now she’s addicted to feeling important. She’s addicted to being special. And she needs to feel that so badly that she decides she is the Doctor and can do what he does and ignores the danger and ignores the rules and the risks and what it might do to the Doctor to lose her, and she faces the stupid raven. This girl legit dies a painful, scary death because she thought she could do whatever she wanted, control every situation, and it couldn’t possibly turn out badly because she’s Clara Oswald, the Impossible Girl. Did the Doctor ever give her any idea that that wasn’t true? Didn’t he worship the ground she marched on? She dies for it. And the Doctor, bless his poisoned hearts, cannot handle it. No way, it is not happening again. Not Clara! He’s avoided her death every other time. It’s not even about Clara anymore—Clara is actually a pretty rotten friend to the Doctor at this point; he’s nothing to her, not really, just a means to an end (and you can tell because when push comes to shove, she will choose herself and time and space over him, and over any sense at all, but if anyone asks, that’s her best friend and do you know why? because it’s very special to be the Doctor’s best friend). It’s not about her, it’s about them. About Adric, and River, and Rose, and Donna, and Tegan and Susan and Ace and Vicki. It’s about Ian and Barbara and Wilfred Mott. Not this time, universe! Not this time, Clara! "I have a duty of care." "Which you take very seriously, I know." Twelve goes through the most contrived, horrendous, comically-lengthened torture Moffat can think of (Heaven Sent) and comes out on the other side only to bring Clara back from the dead. Think of that. The woman is actually very long dead at this point and the Doctor braves literal Gallifrey to pull her out of the moment before the end. He breaks every single rule he has ever, ever had. And he does it violently, are you telling me for real that Clara is the best companion for him? She drives him to do right, to be the greatest he can be? She helps, she brings him back to who he’s always tried to be? No she doesn’t. She drives him to total depraved madman status because they can’t quit each other, and no, not the cutesy quippy Madman With A Box type of madman.

What makes Clara so different from all the other people the Doctor had to lose and who remained lost? Nothing at all. Nothing except that the Doctor decided this one isn’t going anywhere. Because she is every companion to him. This poor woman has a sack full of the Doctor’s past-companion baggage tied to her back but to her it feels light, because he treats it outwardly like a pedestal. So he “brings her back” and she figures out what he’s done and what he went through to do it, and they both learn that their relationship is actually so toxic that together, they would destroy the universe just to have what they want. Because that’s what they bring out in each other. The Doctor has to keep Clara safe, and Clara has to be special. They’re so unhealthy it affects everything around them, to the point where the Time Lords literally have a name for their destructive dynamic in their prophecies called the Hybrid (go lie down, Moffat). And the Master knew that because Time Lord…stuff…and deliberately ensured that Clara and the Doctor get together.

Luckily the Doctor is still, somewhere, miraculously, himself—so he recognizes at last that this is going too far and it’s bad, it’s all bad. The only solution, because he still can’t just return Clara to her fate, is to wipe her memory (hello Donna) of him so that they aren’t together but she also doesn’t have to die. So that he still doesn’t have to deal with losing people. And then the very worst part, writing-wise, happens. Clara complains and decides she must be allowed her memories, she’s entitled to them (too special to lose her memories!) but goodie for her, she doesn’t lose them. The Doctor, instead, loses his memories of her. Now, this is ultimately a good thing for him because of the horse I beat to death over there, don’t make eye contact, but—how sad is it that he still has to lose? That he still can’t keep someone, even after all that carnage? The healing process is beginning and he’ll be a better man than ever after this, but take a moment to mourn because that really sucks for him.

Okay here’s the worst part—Clara lives. And not only does Clara live, Clara lives forever. Clara is immortal. Clara gets her own Tardis. Clara gets her own immortal companion! (Ashildr.) Who learned something? Anyone? Not Clara! Who grew as a person around here? No one? Not Clara! Poor Clara Oswald, who started out nicely enough and likeable enough, at least on level with Classic Who companions, is ruined in the end. She gets exactly what she wants. She’s the Ultimate Companion! She’s met all the Doctors. He even fancied her at one point, well, how could he not? She didn’t die, she didn’t learn anything, she didn’t even really grow, she just got worse. Danny died and the Doctor lost, but Clara got to keep her memories, lose her mortality, and gain her own infinite time travelling machine. She became the Doctor. Yippee. Neither of them were made better by the other’s company. Rose Tyler said more than once, at least in three different ways, that the Doctor’s influence, that the opportunity to travel in time and space and help, brings out the extraordinary qualities ordinary people already have. He taps into their potential to be better, even better than him sometimes. The human factor, I call it. And they inspire him to be better, which is important for someone who is essentially immortal and can essentially go anywhere and do anything he likes. Wilfred said it, too, that Donna was better with the Doctor. But the codependency, the noxious way the Doctor and Clara interacted with each other—their whole relationship—it’s devoid of that improving quality. It wasn’t at first, at least not on Clara’s side, but that’s what it turned out to be. At least Moffat acknowledges that in Hell Bent, but he does it more in a way that is trying to communicate to you that that’s how deep and special the Doctor and Clara’s relationship is, isn’t it so important, isn’t it the best companion/Doctor relationship ever? Isn’t she hot, isn’t he whipped? Have you ever seen such devotion? Gag me. He doesn’t say it like it’s a bad thing. He’s just trying to win the 60-year-long companion race. And Clara and the Doctor both suffer for it.

I still like Clara. I blame the writing entirely for how things turned out, because I genuinely, really enjoyed her this last rewatch, and I wish that she’d met a better end. I wish she’d stayed with Danny and figured out what Danny was trying to tell her all along—that normal life is precious and worth it, and worth giving up the big sparkly universe for if you find someone else to live for besides yourself. I wish she’d sacrificed herself to save the Doctor in the present, not just throughout his past, because she proved that at one point she was capable of that. I wish she’d come to terms with the fact that she couldn’t control everything, couldn’t have what she wanted every time, and then chose to learn from that and use what she could control for the benefit of others (including the Doctor). I wish she’d gotten out the way Martha had gotten out. And I really, really wish the Doctor hadn’t had to prolong the pain he was always going to feel when someone else had to say goodbye. Anyway, that’s the essay a trifling three lovely people asked me for. Not really an essay, just word vomit. If you read it all, please let me know what you think! I could be wrong.

[myimaginarywonderland]

Maybe it's just me but something about this season of Doctor Who and the whole structure very much feels like it is set up for 3 seasons. Everything about this season and plots of Doctor Who has very much felt like the beginning to a longer season arc and I am curious if that is why they have already finished some filming because they have written it that way.

It would be interesting because we have never seen something like this before but I can not see any other explanation for the limited episodes and some of the storylines.

Here is why I believe it:

Ruby's story is starting to be told. We have sort of uncovered one side to her parentage while another is still a big question mark and both need to/feel like they will be explored. It feels like the end of this finale was clearly a set up for Ruby's actual story of family in the next season where there will clearly be some conflict (maybe her biological father doesn't want her , maybe she is confronted with the two versions of family she now has) that will be the focus of her storyline while also leaving some room for her to still be a companion. It seems very obvious to me that Ruby's story is written for maybe 2 seasons with a special as a last ride and therefore we are already going to be lightly introduced to the next companion once Ruby's story is told.

Ms Flood feels a lot like Lemony Snicket from ASOUE (the TV Show as I have never read the books.) I feel like we will continue to have her be a present point to us as the viewers in some way before the season 2 finale will finally confront her with the doctor and will give season 3 either the chance to be her story as a villain or to explore her role as morally grey character. It seems obvious to me that since the specials she was hinted at being a long term reoccurring character that is clearly part of a much bigger picture. I imagine with the end of Ruby's story will come a split where we finally get to meet Ms Flood on her own and have her actually interact with the doctor for her actual purpose.

Rogar ap Gwilliam. I know we technically had his hints resolved in 73 yards but especially now with his call back in the finale and all the hints we have had for him throughout the season, I am convinced he is going to have a bigger role in season 2. It just feels to continent to have him appear once yet still have him haunt the storyline in some way without there being more to him or his character. I could totally see him especially with his connection to Ruby be the villain or a big plot point of the second season.

Susan. With all the talk, the hints etc. there is no way we are not seeing Susan in some way/form or other. She was already hinted at in 12s run and with 15 she has been more prominent than ever. Not delivering on that, not having some kind off pay off for the suspension and conflict that now has already been built around her would be the cheapest and worst decision ever.

Sutekh. While I fairly confident he won't actually be back, we have now opened this whole can of Gods possibly influencing the story but first and foremost be real. There is clearly more to this than just his one appearance and God's as a conception will clearly return in some way, maybe even bring someone like the Trickster back to make this an ever more present fact.

All these plot points, all these characters have slowly been set in motion, have slowly begun to build up and some like Ruby are finally beginning to have their story told. But overall all of them on their own very much feel like set pieces that are waiting to be moved, like the opening for a play. It feels like we are watching all these smaller plots be developed for a much larger arc. If this weren't Doctor Who, I would have no doubt that this would be a show with 3 seasons that would end there because the structure seems so clear and obvious.

So I am definitely curious to see how this will turn out or if I am insane for this but this could not be 3 season arc any more clearer if it tried.

[rapha-reads]

IWTV rewatch

(previously in "Daniel versus messy dramatic vampires"... Rashid turned out to be Armand, Louis' dissociating and lying to himself, Lestat's dead, or not, who knows, Claudia's gone nuclear and everyone's insane. Onto season 2, welcome back to the trainwreck and the ramblings of a bookworm nerd. Spoilers for the whole show and the books.)

Season 2 episode 1 [What Can the Damned Really Say to the Damned] - part 1/4

- Before we even start the episode (oh boy this is going to get long), I have to share the passage from the book from which that quote comes because it's amazing:

"The Mediterranean was black, black off the coast of Italy, black off the coast of Greece, black always, black when in the small cold hours before dawn, as even Claudia slept, weary of her books and the meager fare that caution allowed her vampire hunger, I lowered a lantern down, down through the rising vapor until the fire blazed right over the lapping waters; and nothing came to light on that heaving surface but the light itself, the reflection of that beam traveling constant with me, a steady eye which seemed to fix on me from the depths and say, 'Louis, your quest is for darkness only. This sea is not your sea. The myths of men are not your myths. Men's treasures are not yours.'

But oh, how the quest for the Old World vampires filled me with bitterness in those moments, a bitterness I could all but taste, as if the very air had lost its freshness. For what secrets, what truths had those monstrous creatures of night to give us? What, of necessity, must be their terrible limits, if indeed we were to find them at all? What can the damned really say to the damned?"

- [Daniel] "Memory is a monster. We forget, it doesn't. "

We about to explore the concept even deeper...

- [Louis] "She writes it here, so, let's believe it."

[Daniel] "Let's."

Tells you everything already. Let's believe what we've been said, let's believe what's been written, let's not try to verify anything, let's not try to check our flawed memories against facts. And that'll be your undoing, Lou.

- Ayyy, the first "disregard"! Danny boy really does not want to hear from Armand at the beginning.

- Can I just say, maaaan, dirty grimy Louis looks absolutely beautiful, no, I will not take any criticism.

- [Louis] "Can you imagine, never dreaming? Would you look forward to sleep? Or would it terrify you when the day broke?"

[Armand] "Or is it the sleep of an infant? Tabula rasa?"

Makes me think of something my Doctor, Eleventh, said once:

"Clara sometimes asks me if I dream. 'Of course I dream', I tell her. 'Everybody dreams.' 'But what do you dream about?' she'll ask. 'The same thing everybody dreams about', I tell her. 'I dream about where I'm going.' She always laughs at that. 'But you're not going anywhere, you're just wandering around.' That's not true. Not anymore. I have a new destination. My journey is the same as yours, the same as anyone's. It's taken me so many years, so many lifetimes, but at last, I know where I'm going, where I've always been going: home, the long way 'round." (Eleventh Doctor at the end of The Day of The Doctor)

I think this quote can perfectly be applied to Louis. I mentioned in my rewatch of the very first episode that by accepting Lestat's offer, Louis loses access to an important part of his identity: his life amongst the Creole community of NOLA, with the church and the weddings, the dances and the games, the traditions and rites. And Louis says himself, what he wants is a family of his own, a home. Everything Louis ever wanted is to find the place and the people he belongs to, his home. It turned out not to be the NOLA of his youth, where he couldn't have a proud out gay man. Season 2 shows that it's not Paris of the after war either, nor is it with Armand; Paris is too isolated and too strict, and life with Armand, well, too dishonest and cold. Is it to be with Lestat? Could be. Or, like Louis says and shows in ep8, he's companion enough for himself and he'll paint his life with his own colors from now on.

- Abso-fucking-lutely adore the change in behaviour of Armand now that he's not playing Rashid. The white shirt casually open, the lounging, seductive pose, the langourous manner of talking... It's another mask, he's playing another role to push Daniel's buttons, but it's closer to how you'd imagine a 500-year-old vampire who looks as gorgeous as he does would act. And honestly Assad Zaman is gorgeous and talented and even if I'm not an Armand fan I am still mesmerised and nodding approvingly.

- Oh, hey, didn't notice the first time around, but the subtitles when Claudia talks German (or I think it's Ukrainian?) respect the little errors of syntax and tenses she makes. That makes my little multilingual heart very happy.

- [Louis] "This war. It's affecting the blood. Been drinking misery, hopelessness. It's in the blood, we're taking it in. Taking it on. I'm thinking it's why we can't get warm, warm up."

Yeah... *looks at 2024* I know what you mean.

Louis imitating Claudia and having a conversation all with himself is equal part funny and sad. They both need a hug. And a shower.

- [Louis] "The vampire hadn't been here for centuries. The few scraps of forensic proof we found made the case plain, but Claudia was unassailable. Like... like some deranged geologist waving a woolly mammoth tusk saying, 'Let's knock on the neighbor's door, there must be one inside.'"

Fascinated with the way Louis's been narrating this part of the European journey so far. There's life in his voice, rhythm, animation, in a way that was seldom there before. As if he's fondly remembering that part of his life, when it was just him and Claudia and no obligations, no responsibility, just the chaotic, bloody wilderness of WW2-torn Europe, and despite the grief, the loneliness, the cold, he's enjoying himself, because it's some sort of elipsis between the pain he left behind in NOLA and the pain he's about to encounter in Paris. As if those few years running around Europe in rags, hunting down phantoms, was much more peaceful and fulfilling than 30 years of (admittedly, partly) abusive marriage to Lestat, and definitely more than the Paris time or the after-Paris. And the way the light orchestral music hasn't stopped since the beginning of the episode highlights that feeling of fond remembrance. Yes, Claudia was angry and mostly silent, yes, he was grieving Lestat and hallucinating him all the time, yes, Europe was deep in WW2 and all the horrors that entails, and still, Louis is feeling more himself than he did in his own hometown with his suits and his respectability and his complicated family. Maybe Lestat was right after all, maybe Louis hid behind his masks for so long while all along his true nature was the wilderness hidden by the veneer of sociability, the way New Orleans's buildings barely veil the swamps... Or maybe I'm reading way too much into it all.

- [Louis] "I want to thank you... for the memories you helped restore the other night. I understand these diaries much better now."

Are you sure. Are you really sure of that, Louis. Though, it does give more weight to what I was saying just above. Louis feels like he's unlocked a part of himself he had lost or forgotten thanks to Daniel's unrelenting questions, and it makes him much more invested in his own narration and much more lenient towards Claudia's narration.

- [Daniel] "And tonight's two hours and counting on chasing old world vamps who never materialize. You ever read Moby Dick, Real Rashid?"

[Real Rashid] "I'm here to serve"

[Daniel] "Ah. Yeah, sure. I'm sorry, this is... this is so weird. Where did they send you when Shah Rukh Khan over here was playing you? Is there a panic room behind the Rembrandt?"

[Louis] "My love ran a theatre company for 150 years, Daniel."

[Daniel] "Your love was in a box pondering a premeditated neck wound, according to Claudia. She wrote it, let's choose to believe it."

[Armand] "Unworthy in San Francisco, Unworthy in Dubai. Disregard."

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA I AM DYING THIS EXCHANGE IS EVERYTHING

Haaa, let me catch my breath, I've been wheezing for the past 5 minutes relistening a couple of times to the whole thing to make sure I don't miss a part. Catty old bitching drama queens sniping at each other, this is the best. I want a poster with this entire conversation printed on a Rembrandt painting to put in my room.

The SRK mention, DYING!!

Real Rashid being all "begging you to please not involve me in whatever this is, I just want my paycheck".

Louis trying sooooo hard to sell his and Armand's relationship and Daniel immediately coming in with the steel chair and Claudia's diaries, and didn't I say "Let's believe it" would come back to bite him in the ass, I hadn't expected it so soon tho.

And then Armand being so vexed he lets loose his inner catty drama queen too, and yet I am sorry but have you seen how he looks at Daniel even when he's insulting him, Devil's Minion fans, how are we feeling, 'cause I'm having the time of my life.

And finally, to come back to that first line, Daniel alluding to Moby Dick as a parallel to Claudia's impossible hunt for the vamps... I love clever literary references.

Alright. I stopped laughing and I didn't wake up the house. Let's carry on. Dreamstat is about to make his first appearance...

season 1 masterpost

part 2 | part 3 | part 4

episode 2 | episode 3 | episode 4 | episode 5 | episode 6 | episode 7 | episode 8

[dreamsinmoonlight]

From Eden

(This. Would. Not. Go. Away. I had this pop up in my head while on a bus and then it kept bugging me until I wrote it so here it is.

It is a very weird fanfic I feel but it's for us Master fans and we're weird and they're weird so makes sense. It is not for one Master in particular; it is for the seven most notable ones, as noted in the notes. I apologize if you wanted more of one particular Master, I do want to make proper ones later but this needed to be the whole group of them.

This whole thing is set to "From Eden" by Hoizer, specifically the Mahogany Session version; I recommend listening to that song while reading this

Fandom: Doctor Who

Characters: The Master (Delgado, Crispy, Ainley, Jacobi/War, Simm, Missy, Dhawan), Reader (Time Lord)

Pairing: Master x Reader

Genre: Romance

Summary: It's a dance, through time, through space, through victories and through defeats. There is so few constants in the universe but you are his.)

It started at one.

He smiled at you in that charming, hypnotic way of his and you felt as if you could trust him to the ends of the universe. You knew deep in your bones that you would and as he offered his hand to you, you took it without a second of hesitation. Those burning eyes of his were upon you and only you; the music played around you and the Tardis hummed along but he seemed only interested in you.

You were his companion, the one and only. There were many for that other bleeding heart, the one who stood against him, the one who kept getting in the way, but you were a singular point and impossible to imitate, if your favorite danger was to be believed. You'd met him more than once, both monster and savior, and you found the man with the suave way of trying to bring upon domination far more interesting.

His smile, his voice, the way he held your hands in his as he danced with you, feeling his touch despite his gloves; his movements were playful but in every step graceful and calculated. There was control to it, to everything he did, and you could not help but trust him to take control, to be in command. Though you knew that the end result could only be trouble. At least you'd face it together.

It went to two.

He was broken, burnt, hurting. And there was a desperation that oozed from each and every pore of a dying body. Regeneration, revenge, survival, destruction, you understood and you followed along still.

But even death had time for a dance. His movements were far more sluggish and stiff, a body that could not move as well, as fast, as easily. But you saw still in his eyes the soul of the man you loved, the spirit of one who could not, would not, be held back by anything, not by imprisonment, not by defeat and surely not by something by as silly and unimportant as death.

The world around you was silent and hurting but you knew all the best ways to make music nevertheless. Though neither of you truly needed it when you were the ones doing it; his body might not be willing to do much but you didn't for a second doubt that he could handle any of this. There was nothing that a monster in the dark couldn't do if he truly tried, if he believed, if he persevered. And this monster certainly would continue on. A new life was not so far away you were sure and though some part of you felt sorry for the one who would be losing out, you really only cared as long as it meant that he would be able to smile and be who he always had been before.

The third lasted.

There was something wild in his eyes and you were uncertain whether to blame the planet you both barely survived escaping. There had always been something in his eyes, an edge of madness, a portion of danger that made your hearts beat all the faster because how you could not be allured by the subtleness in his smile.

But feral was never something you attributed to him before and it made this dance all the stranger and exciting. His hands held you like vices, he pulled you close and in that smile were sharp fangs ready to tear flesh and eat you alive. Yet not a drop of fear beat through your body and you held onto him as he led the dangerous movements of this dance, still controlled and elegant in some far more aggressive way.

He may never be the same, you thought to yourself as you noted the gold to his eyes, and he would never be himself again. He'd been changed in dangerous ways and it was a question not a guarantee that regeneration was coming if he faced it.

But death was ever just a small thing and temporary to him. In those bones that knew that you'd always trusted him, too was the knowledge that it didn't much better to you what changes came.

You smiled and followed him through every step of the dance, holding ever tight to him without fear.

Four came with tragedy.

The universe was burning and it wasn't his fault. The universe was dying and he wasn't the cause. These were strange things to think, to feel, and pain and fear finally found it's way not just into you but into him as well. And it colored those eyes in ways you never imagined.

This could be your last dance together and you both knew it so you were going to make it a good one. The song was the same as it had been at every other junction but it burned into your skin as he held you with a desperation that made you hurt so much.

None of this was your fault; if anyone it was theirs, those monsters who called him a monster, those beasts of stagnation that saw the universe as their toys and as worthless all at the same time. It was that bleeding heart who couldn't bring himself to do what was necessary even if it saved them a lot of heartache.

And now you'd lose your favorite and he'd lose you. But not a word of this passed either lips, held back by the taboo of weakness but you needed no audible words, not when you knew each other as well as you did.

He tried for elegance, as he had done for countless lives, but the wish not to let this actually end turned a waltz into something endless. Every time it could come to the last second he winced and forced the song to start again and you resisted the urge to rest your head against his chest. Because you already could hear his hearts breaking perfectly fine as you were, knowing this couldn't go on. It would end.

It revived in five.

An eternity came and went, in it's wake pain and loss. But fate couldn't keep you apart and you remembered the way the strange desperation in his eyes turned to relief as he forced his way into the hideway on the edge of nowhere you'd locked yourself away in. And though you had not recognized him at first, the way he pressed the pocket watch into your hands and made you open it, the way you felt everything you were meant to be return and the way you immediately realized who he was, who he had always been and always be.

Your mad feral monster and when you spoke his name he smiled with everything he had before doing as you always did, always would. He scooped you up and danced with you, he laughed and told you of what you missed, of the bleeding hearts' acts and his own and what chaos and death and suffering he had wrought. Of the pretty blonde woman he had seduced but oh, never fret, never fear, though he'd truly felt something deep in those broken hearts of his, you were still the one and only true companion to the monster. Proven right by betrayal, by pain and suffering, and he'd nearly burnt himself to death again but he'd won and he'd stolen what he needed from those who hurt him, had always hurt him. And then he came for you. Because you, you were the one good constant in his chaotic vicious cruel existence, and he wanted nothing more than to have you dancing with him once more, loving him despite every act he wrought upon the universe. And this made you feel so loved you forgot about eternity.

Six changed the dance.

She was beautiful, like a rose covered in thorns, like a drop of honey full of poison, like death itself. She smiled and she laughed and she danced about, the skirts of her dress twirling as she did so, her hair a controlled mess upon her head, her eyes glittering with the essence of true madness. And you wanted so bad to press your lips to hers because how could you, the monster's companion, ever, ever resist such a beautiful sight.

Her hand reached out to take yours and you held tight, drawing close and smiling warm as the sun to her ad you joined her. The world was in a tizzy, it always was though whenever she choose to make herself known, and the bleeding hearts would find his way there in no time but there was always time enough for a dance. You two had learned that so long ago that it was less a thought as it was an existence.

Yet something in your hearts told you that things were different, because she didn't seem as keen on the destruction as she was on seeing that troublemaker who always got in her way. Because there was a gentleness you couldn't explain or expect but who were you to ever deny your beloved monster the shards of goodness still left embedded in hearts broken over and over more?

Seven.....Seven....

She died. He woke up. And it seemed like everything had returned to the norm. But there was a childishness and playfulness and giddiness that you knew meant only trouble for the rest of the universe. The bleeding hearts had proven not enough, or maybe the monster had been lacking, but you were biased and you knew this to your core.

He took you by the hand and the song continued to be the same as it had been when he'd been elegant and when he'd been broken.

When he'd been feral and when he'd been afraid.

When he found you again and when she had been almost good.

And in this dance you found all of them, mixed and swirling, and in every way him and every way not. His eyes still burned but they burned in ways different than ever before; he laughed and it was cracks and edges. He schemed and he hoped and he acted and he hurt and killed and destroyed and this time it was his fault, every step of the way. He was the same, he was different, he was himself, he was not.

But still you smiled back at him and you reflected back all the ways you'd changed too, every day you'd spent with him, every time you'd found each other, lost each other, fought the bleeding hearts and every other force against you. And every time you danced.

Still you found, as the music continued, as he held you close, as he smiled and he whispered all his plans, as he tickled your ear with his voice, that one thing had not changed:

You still trusted him to the ends of the universe.

[autisticstevenuniverse]

Rating Every Nu Who Episode: Season 14

The Star Beast: 9/10 DONNA'S BACK!! And I love Rose, and I love that they found a way for it to be ok after all, and I love that the cute sweet innocent beastie was evil. Loses one point though because Rose should not be named Rose because (1) that's confusing and (2) after all the deal with the Doctor needing to move on to current companions, really?

Wild Blue Yonder: 10/10 creepy af and I love that Donna immediately broke everything through coffee. Thought about taking off a point for making me watch through my fingers, but I think that is actually a testament to how good it is.

The Giggle: 9/10 so weird and funny and horrifying and silly! Love that they seem to have realized that if they pile any more trauma on this character he won't be able to function, so he needs to heal a bit. Just a point off because the original Toymaker episode is lost to time.

The Church on Ruby Road: 9/10 I love everything about this episode, especially the impromptu musical number, but it does lose a point for the literal baby-eating goblins because come on guys, really?

Space Babies: 8/10 I'm not as obsessed with this episode as the others this season but I thought it was so, so sweet.

The Devil's Chord: 9/10 loved everything about the plot but it didn't feel like they did enough with the 60's setting. Did enjoy the Maestro SO much and the musical number at the end was great.

Boom: 10/10 perfect use of plot and characters without changing setting hardly at all. Great commentary on war and capitalism etc.

73 Yards: 7/10 because it was a Blink-level setup that I didn't feel paid off very well, with no answers or hints of answers in the end.

Dot and Bubble: 15/10 holy shit. The racism commentary in a way talking about young people on social media instead of old white guys in charge or a distant, historical context. The layers to it. The way you realize after the fact some of the things that could be dismissed definitely having to do with the Doctor's race. The bright and poppy aesthetic. Them literally preferring to die than to let a Black man save them. His confusing mix of anger and pain at this new experience. Instant favorite episode.

Rogue: 10/10 NOW the Doctor has it in him to be gay. He just had to go to therapy first lol. Too bad Rogue immediately vanished. Can't wait for him to come back. Also the cosplay theme was so clever and fun.

The Legend of Ruby Sunday: 7/10 it was fine. Just fine. I liked a lot of it, but it was much less exciting than the previous several.

Empire of Death: 9/10 I really loved it, from Fifteen screaming at the death of the universe to falling back into patterns of blaming himself to the peek at the emptiness it all caused. It loses a point because I wanted a lot more answers about Ruby, the 4th wall breaks, etc, but only one because I trust we'll get those next season.

Bonus Character Rating

Fourteen: 10/10 I love that he's like Ten but not the same, and that he finally gets some recovery time.

Fifteen: 10/10 he is NEW and DIFFERENT but still definitively the Doctor. He is so expressive and so much fun and clearly still traumatized but better than he was.

Ruby: 8/10 not the best companion ever, but she is sweet and fun and I like her.

[ellie-24]

Forbidden Fruit

Finally another installment set in my Big Daddy Elvis x assistant reader verse. Chronologically set after Maybe one day, but can be read as a stand alone. It's also not a reader-insert per se anymore because our lovely assistant has a name now. I hope you like it!! :)

Also I really gotta say a special thank you to the incomparable @whositmcwhatsit who made the whole thing readable and had some great tips! And thanks to @thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @be-my-ally @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love for being the most inspiring, awesome backup ever. (they're also the ones taking possible complaints regarding the word count, they're responsible for it)

Warnings: Elvis loves his guns, discussions of Elvis' health, mentions of alcohol, addiction, pills, light manipulation and gaslighting, a bit of period typical misogyny, a bit of smut at the end (oral, f receiving)

Word count: ~13.3 k

You had continued staying with him at night after that one episode where he nearly overdosed. Elvis’ night terrors weren’t comparable to what most people mean when they describe what they go through when it’s time to sleep. Being around Elvis meant to completely ignore and unlearn your natural sleeping pattern. Scratch that. Being around Elvis meant that you had to forget everything considered normal. Day to day activities were determined by his unpredictable and sometimes challenging moods. In your short time working for him you quickly learned to adjust and be done with it. More importantly to never question anything. Things just made more sense when you stopped thinking about them too hard.

That’s how you found yourself sitting at Elvis’ bed at 5 in the morning reading to him. Being around Elvis meant being nocturnal. Which also meant that going to bed at 5 AM was a sensible thing to do.

“He's always been like this.” Charlie said to you a few days earlier. “Billy told me he never slept well. Even before his rise to fame, as a child. I guess that just stuck. He never outgrew it.”

“I think it might just be a habit now. He obviously performs at night. Very late into the night, it's only natural for your body to adjust.” Jerry had interjected.

“Well, he takes his pills before a show. You know the ones that make him more... energetic.” you offered.

Jerry raised his eyebrows. “Energetic. That's a nice way to put it.”

You shrugged. “He takes them before his shows. They're probably still full in effect when he tries to go to sleep.” The two men hummed, the conversation apparently over.

Whether it was a combination of those or something else entirely. Whatever it was, it caused nearly everyone in his orbit to go to bed when the rest of the world woke up.

He insisted that you stayed by his side from the moment he laid down until he woke up again. Clearly this was far beyond your duty as a personal assistant, but you couldn’t help yourself. You knew he hated being alone with his mind for too long, claiming it would get weird up there. He often found solace in his faith, carrying a bible everywhere he went. His books on spiritualism and numerology were constant companions as well. When his sleeping pills wouldn’t do the job and he found himself thrashing back and forth in his bed, frustrated that he just couldn’t seem to find any rest, he reached out for his reading glasses and turned on the lamp. His mind was running at full speed anyway, so he might as well put it to use.

The only thing hindering him now was the pain in his eye. The doctor couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but sometimes it was nearly unbearable for him. His body was so accustomed to the medication that even the painkillers he took hours ago couldn’t give him any relief.

“Do me a favour, will ya? Read this to me?” He held out a book to you.

“Is it your eye?”

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at you. “...Nah, just wanna hear your sweet voice.” he mumbled with a grin.

In your one hand you now held Cheiro’s Book of Numbers, a very interesting choice for a bedtime story. (Don’t question things.) Your other hand was occupied holding his ring clad one. How he slept with all this jewellery was another mystery to you.

He closed his eyes and reached out for your hand, grasping it tight. You scooted closer to him. “I'm right here, E. I'll stay.”

He hummed and squeezed your hand even tighter.

Elvis certainly had to be the most physical and touchy person you’d ever known. You gently ran your thumb over his palm, assuring him the whole time. He’d sometimes grunt or hiss, his face scrunching up in pain, which caused you to stutter slightly. You tried to conceal it. Often you thought he had finally fallen asleep, his breathing evening out, his hand squeezing yours less and less.

However when you stopped reading, you’d hear him rumbling. “... Julie, be a sweetheart and read that last part again, will ya? Didn’t quite catch that.”

That was the exact sentence he mumbled every time you grew quiet. After the third time though, the sentence grew shorter and shorter each time until the only thing he eventually managed to get out was a slurred “Julie, sweetheart.”

You read aloud for two more minutes and when you stopped this time, there was no reaction from him. You closed the book with a sigh and put it on his night stand and checked the time. 7:48 AM. With a huff, you ran your hands over your face, wanting nothing more than go to sleep as well. It felt like every day you needed to apply more make up to the ever growing bags under your eyes. But you couldn't go to sleep. Not really.

Being around Elvis meant almost constant paranoia. Paranoia that his lifestyle would finally take its toll. You’d seen him almost die two times now. When he nearly overdosed the other day you realised the true extent of the damage all the pills caused.

“It's alright, sweetheart. The doctor prescribed them. He knows what he's doing, he's a doctor.” he laughed, looking at you like you had grown two heads.

“Jerry said you've been to the hospital multiple times already.” you insisted. “Don't you think-”

“He's just a nervous nelly. It was probably... dehydration or something along the lines, nothing dramatic. Don't believe everything you're told” he argued, leaving no room for disagreeing.

The only other time you witnessed him almost die was at dinner. You and the rest of the Memphis Mafia sat together enjoying a relaxed dinner after a successful show. Everyone enjoyed their food and made light conversation until Elvis started choking all of the sudden. You remember sitting in shock, dropping your plate as you watched Jerry run over to him and perform the Heimlich manoeuvre. This event had truly shocked you to the core, causing dinner to be considered a rather stressful affair now.

The truly terrifying thing about this whole nerve wrecking affair wasn’t necessarily the fact that Elvis Presley was in fact choking, it was how automatic and nonchalant everyone was about it. As if the whole process has been practised numerous times. Jerry later informed you that something like this would indeed happen on a regular basis. Almost everyone close to him had saved his life at one point. Literally. Charlie explained that the medication would alter and slow his reflexes, often causing him to choke on food. Sometimes he had trouble catching his breath, even without physical activity. That's why you always made sure to carry a second inhaler with you anywhere you went. There were many things to look out for and the responsibility sometimes made your head spin. Actually, you should start making a list, maybe it'll ease some of your anxieties.

You yawned and laid down next to him. You made sure to put a hand on his plush chest, feeling the coarse hair under your palm. The steady rise and fall of it and the strong beating of his heart calmed you a bit. Often you would just lay there and study his face, fighting the urge to close your burning eyes. The way his eyes were moving frantically under closed lids. Black eyeliner still smudged, long eyelashes fluttering over soft cheeks. His beautifully shaped nose would twitch occasionally as if you’d tickled him with a feather. His marshmallow lips would move from time to time like he was talking, or singing. You didn’t really know, but that’s when you had to pay close attention. Once he started thrashing around you scooted back a bit, not wanting to get accidentally hit by him. Eventually he'd calm down again and you breathed a sigh of relief every time. You won't ever forget the one time he actually got up and started to walk around. It had taken you a few seconds to figure out that he was sleep walking

He had to be closely watched throughout the night and in a way you of course understood why he insisted on you staying with him. You could clearly see that he was scared of himself at times, scared for himself. So you did your best to be there for him, even though it was taxing at times. Not only as an employee, but as a friend. He needed it. You turned your head to the night stand and checked the time again. 10:03 AM. Damn.

It felt like you had closed your eyes for about a second when you felt something pulling at your hair. Your eyes shot open and you saw Elvis leaning over you, a few strands of your hair between his fingers.

“Wakey, wakey, sweetheart.” He cooed at you and started to braid your locks.

“Hey E, what time is it?” you asked groggily.

“Time to wake up, sweetheart,” he hummed.

“Very funny.” You sighed and closed your eyes again. At that, he gave a light yank to the small braid he held in his hands.

“Don’t go back to sleep, Julie baby,” he insisted.

“Alright okay, I’m awake.” You turned over again. 5:26 PM. Damn, it felt like you were asleep for a minute. “Was Charlie already here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes. He must have been, otherwise Elvis wouldn’t be so active already. Just like he couldn’t go to sleep without special help, he needed a little something extra to get up and function again. It was a vicious cycle, really.

“Yeah, he was.” He waved away as you sat up.

“Oh my god, shit, why didn’t you wake me up? I really slept in!”

“I did.” He stated with an innocent smile, feigning ignorance. “Also, I had to show him what a cutie you are when you're asleep. Did ya know ya pull the funniest faces? I can always tell what you're dreaming.” You decided not to comment on this and rolled your eyes, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. He placed a hand on your shoulder, holding you back.

“Wait, sweetheart, there’s something I gotta talk to you about real quick.” You turned back to him, giving him your full attention and he smiled, pleased. “You remember those crazy guys who tried to get onstage while I was performing, made a big fuss? Lamar, uh, mentioned they saw some guys lurking around, uh, looking like they’re up to no good. Down in the casino.”

You had an idea where this was going. The paranoia that everyone felt around Elvis extended to Elvis himself. He always felt like there was someone after him. To a degree you could understand, as there were real incidents like death threats, rude letters, or fans who got a little too excited and almost attacked him.

You had experienced it yourself after seeing the mean looks on the faces of some female fans directed towards you, and waiting for something to happen, but you knew not to let it affect you too much. However, Elvis took these things to heart, and you didn’t understand why his entourage would feed into those fears and the paranoia. The guys Lamar was talking about were probably harmless, but due to Elvis’ own concern he felt the need to tell him. Elvis made them see a threat everywhere. Everyone was aware that Elvis needed to know that he was in charge, that he was in control, and that he would decide what’s best for everyone, because he just knew.

He had told you numerous times that it was best to always carry a gun. After all he carried one everywhere he went, even onstage. The shock you felt at that particular revelation is hard to describe, but, as you had learned by now, it was best not to question things. You had declined every time he suggested it, finding it unreasonable, but now you had a feeling you were about to have that discussion again.

“...Sweetheart, I want you to be safe.” He continued and squeezed your shoulder.

“You don’t gotta worry about me. I can take care of myself.” You insisted, raising your chin.

He tilted his head to the side in disbelief. “Can ya? I remember ya nearly leaping into my arms, scared to death at the sight of a little spider. When was that? Three days ago?” he mused with a shit eating grin on his face.

You lightly smacked his arm. “That’s not the same! And the spider wasn’t small. For the record.”

“It was an itty bitty spider, sweetheart. It’s not my fault that everything looks huge for poor little Julie.” He smirked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Okay, I might be scared of spiders, but I’m not intimidated by some guys Lamar and the others deem ‘up to no good’,” you countered, mimicking the quotation marks with your fingers.

“It’s not funny, ya know how people can get. Pretty thing like you can turn into a damsel in distress real quick. Trust me. I just want ya to be able to protect yourself.”

“Elvis, we’ve been through this,” you sighed.

He took a deep breath. “Sweetheart, I- I feel responsible for you... Give me some peace o-of mind,” he stammered, leaning closer towards you with a pleading look on his face.

“I’m an adult, you know.”

He pouted. “Then start a-acting like one. Julie, you a-are so damn stubborn, why can’t you just d-do what I tell you,” he argued, throwing his arms up in frustration.

You took a deep breath and placed your hands on his shoulders. “Elvis, I know that you mean well and I appreciate your concern-“

“Don’t brush me off, sweetheart. Will ya do as you’re told?”

You sighed. It’s true you were stubborn, but he was stubborn as well, and persuading him didn’t work this time. The discussion was pointless and you knew that in order to save you some trouble the best thing you could do was just agree. He wasn’t gonna give up, you could feel it. There was a determination and finality in his eyes that left no room for arguing. On the one hand it could be considered flattering that he was so concerned with your well-being, but on the other it was scary to think about what was going on in his head, pushing him to such decisions.

“I guess I could give it a try. Just for tonight, alright?” His hand moved from your shoulder and brushed against your chin in a feather light touch. It sent a warm tingle down your spine.

“Anyone ever tell you that you can be real difficult, sweetheart?” he stated with a tender smile.

“Actually, you’re the first. Everyone I interact with always makes sure to tell me that I’m an absolute delight. Highlight of their day.”

“Hush now,” he chuckled as he got up from the bed with a grunt. He rotated his shoulder multiple times and put a hand on his back with a sigh. You knew that today wasn’t a particularly good day for him.

“...How is your eye?” you inquired with a more serious tone, getting up as well to fetch his sunglasses.

He squinted his eyes and shook his head with a small frown. “I’m good,” was the short answer you received. You carefully placed the glasses on his nose and wiped away some sweat that had gathered on his forehead. It always seemed to be there.

“Are you sure?”

“Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head about that,” he replied, tugging at your hair again. You smiled at him and gently ran your hand through his soft hair. He leaned into it.

“...I don’t-“

“I know my body, woman. I’m grown, let me handle it,” he cut you off, raising an eyebrow.

The irony of this exchange wasn’t lost on you. You had the feeling it wasn’t lost on him either as he cleared his throat and walked away from you and your touch. At times it could happen that he was self aware. Fleeting moments really.

He always claimed to know what everyone was supposed to do. If it were only suggestions he offered, but no, he had to make sure they were carried out. Preferably he carried them out himself, at least then he knew it was properly taken care of. He even felt responsible for things that weren’t his business in the slightest, but the moment someone else merely suggested that he should take care of something concerning himself, he’d shut them down in a second. Didn’t even want to hear it.

You followed him and he cast a warning look over his shoulder, as if he saw you opening your mouth through the back if his head. He opened a closet and pulled out a leather case, putting it on the glass table in front of him and swiftly opening it. At the sight of what was inside, a gasp escaped you: various firearms, badges and bullets, shining and reflecting the sun light, almost blinding you. His obsession with law enforcement was nothing new to you, he had proudly showed you his Reserve Captain of the City of Memphis Badge and his police flashlight the first time you met him, but seeing all these guns in front of you was something else.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” he smirked.

“Uhm, they’re certainly uh... This one’s pretty.” You pointed at a small gun decorated with golden leaves and different animals, which were carefully engraved into the steel.

“I had a feeling you’d like this one.” He responded proudly and picked it up with trained expertise.

“I like the animal,” you remarked, mentally slapping yourself for not coming up with something more clever.

He chuckled. “It’s a Smith & Wesson 19, I had it custom made in Germany. You wanna hold it?”

“Uh..”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’s not loaded. See?” He opened the cylinder and showed you the empty chambers, then shut it again and pressed the gun into your hands.

“A pretty lil’ gun for a pretty lil’ girl.” He smirked as he assessed you carefully, licking his lips. You felt heat rising up your chest and neck and cleared your throat.

“...I don’t even know how to..” you trailed off, the gun still laying in your open palms, looking a bit lost.

“Here, let me,” he mumbled as he stepped behind you.

Suddenly his strong arms were around you, surrounding you, trapping you. For a moment you forgot how to breathe, your body betraying you and your muscles not moving the way you wanted them to. You were still able to move your eyes though and saw his big hands engulfing your smaller ones. He gently guided your trembling hands, showing you how to properly hold the gun. You weren’t sure if the trembling was caused by the highly dangerous firearm in your grasp or the equally dangerous Rock ‘n’ Roll star behind you. You took a shuddering breath after what felt like hours and promptly realised it was a grave mistake. His smell now surrounded you as well, an intoxicating mix of sweat, cologne and cigars. If you leaned back just a little you could feel the swell of his stomach, you already felt the heat of his body radiating off him. Oh, how you wanted to let go and just-

“Are ya still with me, sweetheart?” he chuckled behind you, his lip curling. Shoot.

“...Uh sorry, what did you say? I was... concentrating,” you stammered, relieved that at least he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks.

He stepped forward with a small laugh, finally closing the gap between your bodies, trapping you completely to him. You were only wearing a tank top and the v neck of his shirt was so deep that you could feel his coarse chest hair against your shoulder. Sweet Jesus, this man was driving you insane! His warm hands started to work yours again, correcting angles and adjusting your hold. The coolness of his rings and the sight of the veins on the back of his hand caused your heartbeat to pick up once more.

“Yeah, like this... Wait, your finger has to go there... Relax your lil’ fingers, sweetheart... I said relax... That’s it,” he murmured, his rough fingertips now slowly gliding over your wrist, steadying your hand. He played you like an instrument, one of his guitars maybe, waiting to be tuned. You swallowed hard and prayed that he couldn’t see the goosebumps forming on your arms, or feel your pulse racing under his nimble fingers.

“Good. Now we gotta work on your stance.”

Without warning, you felt his strong thigh pressing itself between your legs, nudging your feet apart. You let out a surprised yelp and nearly lost your balance, but he hastily wrapped an arm around your middle, fingers digging into your stomach.

“Woah, careful there, little lady... Am I making you nervous?” he asked with a smirk. He knew damn well, he just enjoyed watching you squirm. His warm breath tickled your ear and for a second you thought you felt his soft lips gently brushing against your cheek. It was only for a millisecond, but it sent a shock through your core. Did he really just…?

“...You w-wish, huh? I -I just want to be careful with this... weapon of mass destruction,” you gasped and tried to conceal it with a laugh, feeling a bit breathless. He slowly ran his hands over your waist, down to your hips.

“Sweetheart, quit being so jittery. You gotta stop being so damn careful with this ‘weapon of mass destruction’,” he chuckled. “It can handle ya having a bit of fun with it.” He spoke in a low voice and pressed himself even closer to you, the double meaning of his words not lost on you. You wanted to deny it for your own sanity, but you were sure that it was the outline of his dick you felt against your backside. Was he wearing no underwear under these silk pyjamas? You felt a lump in your throat and your mouth turned dry. Like a desert. Oh god.

“What is it, Julie darlin’? Cat got your tongue?” he whispered, his chin resting on your shoulder. You stared straight ahead, because if you turned your head just a little bit, your lips would certainly brush against his. Then it would be game over. You had to focus, which was a difficult task with him continuing to knead the flesh of your hips without a care in the world.

You were used to his flirting and touching and, of course, you were both aware for your mutual feelings for each other, but you had made an agreement not to act on it, protecting both of you. Spending every night with him, though platonic, already meant treading on thin ice, and feeling him like this, so close, made your resistance grow weaker by the minute. He apparently had an equally hard time holding back and you knew it was up to you to stop right now. No matter how much didn’t want this moment to end.

You freed yourself from his grasp and let out a barely audible sigh at the loss of contact. Without his comforting warmth surrounding you, you couldn’t suppress a little shiver. You turned around and saw him drop his arms that still hovered in front of him as if you were still there. He adjusted his glasses and ran a hand over his mouth.

You got into position to hold the gun like he just showed you. “Like this?” you questioned. You knew it probably wasn’t perfect, you were hardly able to pay attention to what he had just explained to you. Maybe you hoped he would get close to you again, help you and correct you, so you could feel his wide frame against your smaller one. Just maybe. He cleared his throat and looked down.

“Yeah, it’s good,” he murmured and went over to the glass table again, the moment you two just shared now over. With a frown, you followed him and peered over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He opened a small box, revealing various bullets.

“...Now, for the Smith & Wesson you’re gonna need this .357 Magnum cartridge...” He continued listing facts about the ammunition with you listening dutifully, as if nothing happened between you mere seconds ago. Every now and then, he’d look at you to check if you were still paying attention to him and, though you didn’t really understand what he was talking about, you nodded your head every now and then. He showed you how to open and close the cylinder and placed a bullet in each of the six chambers. Alright, now it was loaded. Great.

“Here, watch this,” he said and got into position to shoot. You thought he wanted to show you the hold and stance again, but you were wrong. You saw his finger coming dangerously close to the trigger and, without warning, he pulled it. You shrieked as he actually shot at the sofa at the other end of the room. Was he completely losing his mind now, just shooting inside a building? You wanted to remind yourself not to question things, but this was too much. You could not leave it like this. Couldn’t pretend it was normal.

“Elvis! What are you doing?” you screamed, covering your ears with your hands.

“I’m demonstrating,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

“...You... You shot a pillow!”

“It’s ugly anyways.”

“Ugh... I don’t believe you sometimes,” you said, shaking your head. He actually had the audacity to laugh.

“Come on Julie, it’s funny.”

“...You’re a... a man child!” you said with a small nervous chuckle, your ears still ringing.

“And you’re a killjoy!”

“Oh my god, I’ll better go downstairs now, before you start shooting the windows. And you should start getting ready, you have a performance later, remember?”

“What was I just saying about a killjoy?”

“And put the gun away!”

“Lord, woman, you’re horrible.”

“It’s called common sense, E.”

“Boring,” he said, although he couldn’t hide how the corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile.

“Common sense!” you laughed and gathered your stuff as well as the keys for your apartment. The apartment you barely used now, spending most of your time and nearly every night with him, but you insisted on keeping it. You still wanted to keep that last boundary, the illusion that you weren’t as deeply involved as you were. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself.

On your way out you turned to him and waved.

“See you in an hour or so. If you need something just give me a call.”

“You forgot something,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

You halted in your tracks. Man, you just couldn’t get away with anything today. You sighed and he walked towards you with a serious expression on his face once more. He handed you the gun he had used to shoot the poor pillow.

“Take it, Julie.” Maybe it was better if you just took it. Even if you wouldn’t necessarily use it, it would be a precaution.

“...Alright, boss.” You mock saluted and grinned up to him. He smiled fondly, his eyes twinkling, as he brushed some of your hair behind your ear and his thumb briefly traced along your jawline towards your chin, lingering there for a moment.

“I knew you could be a good girl.”

“You like it?”

He hummed and leaned against the door frame, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction.

“...Then I’ll have to rethink it.”

His face dropped and you let out a small giggle at his expression. You enjoyed it when you got to tease him and sometimes it was just too easy with him. He needed some light-hearted fun like anyone else, but it rarely happened; the possibility of him not appreciating the joke and the consequences of that always lingering in the back of everybody’s mind.

“You little minx,” he muttered with a grin and reached out for your waist. You backed away.

“Ah! No time to be silly! I told you we have to start getting ready,” you laughed and turned around. “See you later!” He leaned against the door frame and gently smiled at you until you were out of sight.

After arriving at your apartment, you opted for a quick shower and carefully reapplied your makeup the way Elvis wanted you to. He showed you exactly how to do it, claiming that everyone in the inner circle represented him and there was a certain image to uphold. You figured this made sense and complied with his rules. He was very particular about these things, always concerned with what others thought of him. Whether it was the fans not showing enough enthusiasm at his shows, or the tabloids printing horrible stories about him, it was enough to turn him sour and moody for a couple of hours.

After wiping off some excess lip gloss, you carefully eyed the gun and picked it up. Sighing, you chewed on your bottom lip. Were you really gonna go out there with a gun, even for effect?

It felt like just another one of Elvis’ silly little ideas, thinking he could  show you how it worked in a 10-minute crash course and then off you would go. He never thought these things through and his irresponsibility annoyed you.

“Nah, this is stupid,” you muttered to yourself, hiding the gun in your closet. Elvis wouldn’t know. You needed to be the sensible one.

You grabbed your bag and walked towards the door. As you turned the handle, you casted one last look over your shoulder, facing the closet. You shook your head and closed the door behind you.

On your way down you briefly passed the Colonel, but refused to spare him a glance. He showed up less and less, preferring to work everything out from a safe distance. Probably too much of a coward to face Elvis and the rest of the entourage.

After Elvis had tried to fire him a few weeks ago, there was a noticeable discomfort with the situation on all sides involved. Vernon had advised Elvis that it would be better to keep the Colonel around. Finances and debts played a major role, Vernon explained to you after you asked him about it. There was no way out of this horrid situation.

It made you mad and your frustrations were only made worse by your employer’s reaction, or his lack of reaction. Elvis’ resignation regarding the whole topic, his acceptance that there was nothing he could do, made you incredibly sad. Here was this man they called King, adored by millions of people and surrounded by luxury, and he was utterly powerless. He knew that he didn’t have the willpower, nor the energy to fight anymore, and just passively let these things happen to him.

When you arrived in the backstage area you quickly spotted Charlie and walked up to him, making small talk while you were waiting for Elvis. He showed up a few minutes later, looking as nervous as he did almost every time. You saw that he was sweating again already, his face shining and some of his black hair sticking to his face. You walked up to him and gently dabbed his face with a towel before placing it around his shoulders. He let out a shaky exhale and searched your eyes.

“Ready?” you asked with smile. He huffed a laugh and looked down, shaking his head the tiniest bit. You almost didn’t see it.

“Hold my hand for a bit, will ya, sweetheart?” he whispered and the vulnerability in his eyes was almost too much. One would think after 20 years in the spotlight he would have overcome his stage fright, but every new crowd was another challenge for him. ‘Every audience is different and they never saw me live before. So it’s like performing for the first time every time,’ he always said. You stepped closer to him and reached out for his hand, squeezing it and soothingly rubbing your thumb over the back of it.

“You’re gonna be great, I know it. I see you performing on that stage every evening and I never get tired of watching you. These fans, they’re here for you and you won’t disappoint them.”

“You really think so?” he inquired, his voice more similar like a little boy’s rather than a grown, experienced rock star.

“Yes, E, I do. You’ll blow them away.”

“If you say so, Julie baby.”

“Don’t you think I’m qualified enough to judge?” you asked with a teasing tone.

“Oh sweetheart, I think you’re highly competent,” he quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“I like to remind you of that every now and then.”

“I couldn’t possibly forget,” he smirked, though the tremor in his hand still gave him away.

“Good answer E. See? You know how to charm people. Now you just gotta go out there and do the same.” You squeezed his hand one more time and looked up to him with an encouraging smile.

He took a deep breath when Also Sprach Zarathustra started playing and looked up to the ceiling as if sending up a quick prayer.

“Okay E, let me have a look at you,” you said and reached for his towel, wiping away some of the sweat that had gathered on his face again, as well as some eyeliner that was already smudged. “...Yep, you can go on stage like this.” He gently cupped your chin, making you shiver slightly.

“I’ll be looking for you in the audience. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” you whispered and fixed some of his hair that had fallen out of place. “Now you’re perfect.” His eyes briefly flashed with what you thought was insecurity, but it was quickly replaced with a smirk.

“You can be quite charming if you want to as well, Julie baby. You sure it’s not you who’s supposed to be on that stage?” he winked.

“When I start singing, they’ll just flee for their lives,” you joked and he flashed you another smile before turning around, making his way towards the stage.

You gave him a thumbs up and watched him until he was out of sight. That’s when you noticed Jerry standing rather close, looking at you with an unnervingly neutral expression. You had a creeping feeling he’s silently watched the entire exchange between you and Elvis and, though nothing happened, you couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward and exposed under his assertive gaze. You cleared your throat and made your way towards the auditorium.

When you watched Elvis on stage there was no indication of his earlier nervousness. As always, he seemed at home in the bright spotlight, truly in his element. You cheered him on and just ignored the times he stumbled over the lyrics or couldn’t fully hit a note because he was out of breath. In fact, these were the little things that made the performance feel real, evoking genuine emotions within you.

After two hours of Elvis working his magic, you made you way back towards entrance to the backstage area to accompany him back to his suite. You stood in the corridor, mentally going through everything he needed for the night when you heard someone walking behind you.

“Hey, you.” You turned around to see a man around your age approaching, slurring his words. “Uh, do you happen to know where the restrooms are?”

You blinked. “Oh, uh you’re really in the wrong place. This is the way backstage.”

It took some time for him to register what you just said and you could see the gears turning in his head.

“...Oh... huh, you really seem to know your way around here. You come here often?” he asked with a smile that you think was meant to be charming.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his clumsy attempt of flirting. He was obviously drunk, but he was just trying to make conversation. Emphasis on trying.

“Believe it or not, for the last few weeks I’ve been here every night.”

“That’s crazy.” He said with big eyes, but then he nearly gagged.

“Oh my god, okay, come on, I’ll show you the restroom. Don’t want you to throw up all over the corridor.” You said, pulling him along.

“You’re really kind. I’m sorry, I’m not usually this drunk.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. First time in Las Vegas?”

“How do you know?”

“Uh, just a feeling. Happens to the best of us.”

He smiled down at you and promptly lost his footing. You stumbled until both of you fell to the ground with him on top of you. You groaned at the impact and looked around. Trying to get up wasn’t possible with his dead weight on you, so you pushed against his chest. His reaction was slow to non existent. You were sure he was almost passing out.

“Get off me!” you said a bit louder, trying to get his attention.

It seemed like a cruel joke that it was in that particular moment that Elvis, Charlie, Jerry and Lamar turned around the corner, witnessing the scene before them. And boy, it looked bad. You pushed against the stranger’s chest one more time, urging him to get up. He didn’t even have time to react, as he was yanked off by strong hands.

You looked up, relieved to be able to breathe freely again. Elvis had him by the collar of his shirt, pressing him against the wall, with Lamar and Charlie exchanging concerned looks. Jerry walked towards you with a frown and reached out his hand to help you up.

“Were you having fun?” Elvis hissed, his voice dangerously low. His blue eyes were burning beneath his shades, their expression almost scaring you.

“Elvis, he didn’t do anything!” you interjected. Jerry gently grasped your arm, holding you back.

“I asked you a question, you son of a bitch,” Elvis spat angrily.

From the way he stood you could tell that his back was giving him even more trouble than when he got up today, probably from a daring move he had just attempted during his performance, but he still managed to put on a brave face that would convince anyone that he’d still be up for a fight. Not that it mattered much to the drunk stranger, you weren’t sure that he even registered that it was Elvis Presley talking to him.

You ignored Jerry’s hand on your elbow and stepped towards Elvis.

“He’s drunk, I wanted to help him. He fell on me Elvis, nothing happened.”

It was as if he didn’t even hear you. You put a hand on his back, feeling him tremble beneath you, a combination of the post show adrenaline and pure rage. His silence was really starting to scare you. That’s how you knew it was serious. Really serious.

“Please, let go of him.” you begged when he didn’t answer you. You glanced over to the other guys, feeling helpless. All you got were neutral expressions, no one daring to move a finger. Elvis took a deep breath and pointed a ring clad finger at the stranger’s face.

“If you ever come near her again... if I ever see you again.. you’re gonna regret it. Now get outta my sight,” He warned. With a nod towards Lamar and the other two he let go of him and they escorted him away.

You looked at Elvis, who was still breathing heavily. He flexed his hands multiple times and eyed you carefully.

“Julie, where’s your gun?”

Shit.

Your silence answered his question.

“...I don’t believe this,” he mumbled, roughly grabbing your wrist and pulling you along with him, not saying another word to you. Once you were up in his suite again, he slammed the door and looked down on you with a frown.

“Answer me this: What would you have done if I hadn’t been there in time?” he asked, starting to pace around.

“I wasn’t in danger,” you answered, not moving from your spot.

“Damnit, I warned you about guys like him. I knew something like this would happen!” He pulled out the Colt 45 he hid under his pants leg and strode towards you. “I gave you one of these for a reason.” He continued, waving it in front of your face.

“Elvis, please put the gun away,” you said calmly, remembering the stunt he pulled a few hours ago with the pillow.

“I do what I damn well p-please,” he scoffed and turned away from you. You took a step towards him.

“Please, stop acting like this.”

“You don’t get to t-tell me what to do,” he said, pointing his finger at you.

“Goddamnit Elvis! What is going on?!” You cried, fed up with his antics.

“Why don’t you just do what I-I tell you?”

“Because I wanted to decide what I’m going to do,” you explained, lowering your voice a little to appease him.

“Great h-how that worked out f-for ya!” he spat. You scoffed, at a loss for words, and slammed a hand against your forehead.

“Julie, don’t fucking act like I’m the one who’s in the wrong now! I won’t have you disrespecting me like this,” he warned, his eyes burning into yours with a fury that almost made you back up a little.

“It’s not that! I’m trying to tell you that nothing happened! Look at me, I’m alright!” you argued with desperation in your voice as you gestured at yourself. Did he even listen to you?

“But what if something happened? Julie, I swear to god!” He was seething, his face red with exertion.

“What, Elvis?” you snapped. He just glared at you, his chest heaving.

“You know what? I’m not gonna discuss this right now. I’ll come back later,” you shouted and left the apartment without waiting for his reaction.

Just before you shut the door behind you, you heard him yelling at you, “Julie, if you leave now-“

That’s when you closed the door. And for a moment you were scared; scared because his anger was probably directed towards you now. You didn’t mean to upset him, he was going through so much already, but you also knew that it wouldn’t make any sense to try and talk to him right now. His temper was infamous among those in the inner circle, it was one of the first things you were warned about.

In order to have a normal conversation again he would have to calm down first. You had to calm down as well, knowing that you’d probably say something stupid if he continued to act this way. You felt tears of frustration and anger pricking at your eyes and almost ran down the corridor towards the elevator.

You found yourself wandering through the foyer and saw Jerry sitting on a sofa, apparently deep in thought. You let out a sigh of relief as, within the Memphis Mafia, he was the one that you trusted the most. Not only was he the only one who dared to challenge Elvis at times, but he also had known Elvis for a long time and was a great listener, which is why you’d occasionally come to him for advice.

“Hey, Jerry,” you greeted as you approached him tentatively. He looked up to you and blinked.

“Oh.. hey Julie. Are you okay? You still look a bit shaken... Um, don’t worry, we took care of that guy and escorted him back to his friends. We suggested that it would be better for them to leave. No one’s gonna bother you again.” You sat down next to him.

“He was harmless, Jerry, just drunk. I’m more worried about Elvis... He... um just threw another hissy fit and I’m afraid I made it worse.” With another sigh you sank into the soft pillows behind you, though relaxing wasn’t really an option right now.

“Yeah... he was really pissed about this guy. It doesn’t help that he already felt agitated the whole day. I think something just snapped in him... How did you make it worse though?”

“I walked out on him, mid argument.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. You know, he wanted me to carry a gun, because Lamar thought he saw some gangsters running around the casino... making him go crazy. He wanted me to carry a gun, knowing I have no experience with it, nor the ambition to be honest. I didn’t have it with me and he just... lost his damn mind.”

“I see.” You looked at him expectantly, but he sighed and shrugged.

“Julie... He wants to look out for you. I know he only means well,” he chuckled. “He means well most of the time, it’s just the execution that goes horribly wrong.” You felt a gentle smile tugging at the corners if your lips.

“Yeah, I know that, and I really appreciate his concern, but he needs to know that there are other perspectives as well. People might think differently than him,” you replied while absentmindedly playing with a loose thread on the cushion next to you. He nodded in understanding and turned to you.

“But that’s the thing, he thinks he knows best. And, as I said, he wants the best for everyone. He’s always worried and... concerned about everyone’s well being, wanting to keep everyone around him happy. Sometimes he even tries to fix things that aren’t even his business... It causes him sleepless nights, really.” He shook his head with a frown.

“God, I feel so bad, but he really got on my last nerve today. He shot a damn pillow and thought it was the funniest thing in the world.”

“That’s nothing. He... uh regularly shoots his television sets when there’s something on that he doesn’t like.”

“He does what now?” you asked, your eyebrows raised.

“It’s true. He really does things... his own way. That’s how I’d put it.”

“He’s nuts sometimes. Gosh, I just hope I didn’t mess up too bad this time. I know it’s right for me to stand up to my beliefs, but still.”

“I think he’d forgive you almost everything.” Your gaze drifted towards him, your lips pursed.

“I hope so... Do I have to apologise?” you asked, beginning to genuinely think you did something wrong now. He sighed.

“Julie, I know Elvis. Let me just say it would probably be better that way.”

“But do you think I should?”

“He wants to be right, discussing something like this with him won’t get you far.”

You hummed, this wasn’t really the answer you were looking for, but you knew it was all you’d get from him.

“And... uh there were no other incidents today? I didn’t hear anything. You know, about the weird guys Lamar thought he saw earlier today.”

“No, nothing. I guess it was a false alarm.” He shrugged. You couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped your mouth. This was what started this entire debacle.

“Julie I know what you think, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” he tried to explain. You hummed again and decidedly pulled off the string you’d been twirling the entire time.

“You’re probably right. I think I’ll go upstairs again and see if he’s calmed down a little. Hopefully he hasn't trashed the damn place. Because who's gonna clean it up?” she asked and pointed both thumbs towards herself.

He let out a little snort. “Alright, take care, Julie,” he said as he watched you get up.

“I will, thanks Jerry.”

With that you turned and made your way back through the foyer, thinking about the upcoming conversation with your boss. It was weird to think about him like that, and you had to remind yourself of that particular fact every now and then. You wandered around the hotel for almost half an hour before building up enough nerve to face him again.

When you finally opened the door to his suite with the key he’d given you, you spotted him sitting on his bed dressed in his silk pyjamas again and fumbling around with his jewellery.

“You’ve calmed down again, sweetheart?” He slowly got up, a rather goofy smile on his face.

“Me?” you asked, pointing to yourself.

“Got quite hysterical when ya left,” he said, approaching you with a grin. You raised your eyebrows, your mouth hanging open for a few seconds.

“I got hysterical?” Was he serious right now? You turned on your heel, your hand on your forehead, the whole apology you had prepared on your way up here now thrown out of the window. He couldn’t mean that now, could he? He followed you and placed his hands on your arms, turning you around, towards him.

“Wait sweetheart, don’t be like that. Come on, it’s okay, Julie baby, I know how women can get. Y’all are more tender hearted,” he said, putting his arms around you and stroking your hair.

You frowned and tried to take a step back, wanting to look at him, but he tightened his grip on you, keeping you in place. You’ve never seen someone with mood swings like him. It was extreme to the point where he could be irrational, one could never know what to expect from him. But don’t question things! You leaned into him, not really knowing if this was meant to comfort you or him.

The way he held himself and the slightly dazed expression in his blue eyes explained how he was so calm. He must have taken his damn pills already, otherwise he wouldn’t be this relaxed after the argument the two of you had. Especially after you stormed off, which must have made him even angrier. Now it seemed almost forgotten as he more and more leaned against you for support.

You desperately wanted to throw away all his medication, the fact that he never really dealt with his emotions and just numbed them was driving you mad, though you weren’t convinced that this alone was responsible for his reactions. His extraordinary talent to twist situations and circumstances so that they’d work in his favour could be a gift for him, but a curse for everyone else. You almost never got to discuss situations like this with him, properly working things out.

“Come on, sit down with me, sweetheart,” he pleaded, holding out his hands.

“Alright,” you replied with a neutral expression, despite still clearly seeing the image of him with that damn gun in front of you.

He led you over to his bed and sat down across from you, engulfing your hands with his bigger ones and hold them tight, taking a deep breath. His mouth opened and closed multiple times before speaking.

“Listen... I’m sorry for getting so angry at you earlier. I-I didn’t want to scare ya. I was just worried. Ya gotta believe me.”

The genuinely remorseful look on his face made your irritation dissipate slightly. You sighed. Communication is key.

“...And I’m sorry for yelling at you, I shouldn’t have done it. I know you mean well, but I was angry as well. Well, frustrated...you know what I think about guns,” you almost whispered, searching his eyes, hoping and praying he’d understand. He looked down and bit his lip, looking a bit bashful.

“...Yeah, I-I know sweetheart. I just can’t bear the thought of something happening to you. When I saw that fucker on top of you, I-I could have killed him.” His face became flushed again at the mere memory. You nodded and just squeezed his hands, knowing that explaining the situation again wouldn’t help. He dropped his head.

“Don’t you understand, Julie? W-What if I lose you?...Who would annoy me all day?” he added, after looking up again with a small smile. You forced a smile to match his while trying to ignore his vulnerability in the former half of the statement.

“Oh, I’m sure you would find someone in a heartbeat. You’re Elvis Presley.” His face grew serious again.

“No. Not someone like you.”

“Elvis..” you whispered, pressing your lips together as you felt your face begin to crumple, the emotions of the whole day finally catching up to you. Did he really mean it or did he want to distract from the actual conversation you were having? You hated how your voice trembled when you spoke up again. “We should really talk about-“ He put his hand on your cheek and watched you with a tender look in his eyes.

“No, you don’t have to say anything. I don’t wanna hear any more of it. I’m just glad we’re getting along again. I don’t like arguing with you.” Well, so much for that.

“Me neither,” you eventually uttered with a small sniffle,  your eyes burning. You didn’t know if it felt more like giving in or giving up.

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s all good again. Don’t worry. I-I won’t bother you with this again, okay? It’s all good again. All good.” He mumbled almost meditatively and guided your head to lay against his shoulder, your cheek brushing against his coarse chest hair.

You weren’t convinced of how serious he was about not bringing up the topic again, but for now you’d take it, since he left you no other choice. You knew it must be horrible inside his head and he really couldn’t help the way he was sometimes. He just wanted the best for you. It showed in the way he gently stroked your hair and shushed you, as if soothing a frightened child. And, for the second time that day, you thought you felt the feather light brush of his lips, this time against your temple, as if assuring you that everything was okay. As if he’d read your mind. It made you feel hot and cold at the same time.

Right now you didn’t have the energy to fight against the comforting feeling of his embrace and his affection and just let yourself sink into it. His ability to make you feel completely at ease, his softness, warmth and smell, combined with the rhythmic stroking of his strong hands almost lulled you to sleep.

You felt a sudden calm wash over you, the weird buzzing in your head and the tingling feeling of anxiety on your skin slowly disappearing. The silent promise that everything was going to be alright and that he would take care of everything for you felt like a safety blanket.

“Hey, E?”

He answered with a ‘Hmm?’ and you felt the vibrations of his chest against your cheek.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know... for being there. The whole thing really stressed me out.”

“Well, you know, Julie baby, I have healing hands,” he said, shrugging as if it was the most normal thing.

“I think so too,” you chuckled. Not ironically, like you did so often. It was genuine this time, The more time you spend with him the more you thought he actually possessed some kind of magic, influencing everyone around him. Sometimes that was really no other explanation. He grinned at you, his eyes twinkling.

“So... what now, magic man?” you asked.

“...We could watch The Godfather again, so you can fawn over Marlon Brando?” He proposed. You laughed.

“You know, every day I regret it a little bit more that I told you about this silly childhood crush.”

“When I asked you, you said he was your favourite actor,” he retorted a tad accusingly, a little pout on his face to emphasize his point.

“Yes, I realise my mistake now,” you said with a hand over your heart, feigning shock.

After a few seconds though you weren’t able to hold your back your laughter and an involuntary giggle escaped you. He started smiling as well, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You now knew you had actually bruised his ego with that statement back then. He asked you this particular question only a few days after you met him and you naively answered with the first thing that came to mind, not really knowing the gravity of it. Not really knowing... him. How important these things were for him. Looking back, it was definitely some kind of test that you failed miserably, and he made sure to remind you of that faux pas every now and then, probably still a bit offended and wounded.

“... Do you want me to read to you again? Maybe... um you can try to go to sleep a little earlier tonight, what do you think?” you offered, trying to change the subject. Thankfully he bought into it.

“Mhm.. you always take such good care of me. Like a mama.”

“Well, thanks for that,” you answered, a bit unsure if the second part was really a compliment or not. He scooted closer, laying his head on your shoulder and throwing an arm around your middle, his hand finding its place at your waist.

“...No, I mean it, Julie. I-I really admire that about ya.” He raised his head again, looking deeply into your eyes. “A-And I don’t think I tell ya enough,” he whispered and squeezed your sides.

You felt your pulse quicken and let out a shuddering breath. Was it nervousness? Was it the stress? Was it anticipation? Excitement? There was certainly no denying that you liked the way his hands felt on your body.

“I’m sorry if I’m like this to you sometimes. I-I can’t always help it... My head is just so fucked up sometimes I know I can be a nasty asshole... I just w-want you to know what you mean to me,” he stammered with a frown. You knew it was hard for him to get these words out and you adored and hated him for saying them out loud.

“Elvis, you aren’t any of those things. And-“

He closed his eyes and gently nuzzled his nose against yours, making you stop mid sentence. He was so incredibly tender with you, even the fact that the tip of his nose was nearly freezing due to the cool room temperature didn’t deter you from leaning into his touch.

“...Yes, I am. I’m a selfish bastard who can’t even keep an agreement he made. A promise to the woman he adores.”

Every rational thought you had was thrown out of the window at this. The only thing you knew, felt, was him. This pull between you two had been there from the beginning and you so desperately fought against it. There had been many instances, many battles where you almost surrendered yourself to him, but you always managed to put your rational thoughts first.

Now, with his strong hands on your body, his beautiful face so close that you could feel his hot breath over your lips and the words that just slipped past his marshmallow ones, you felt something snap within you.

You leaned forward and eagerly pressed your lips against his, a surprised squeal escaping you at the same time. You were about to pull back and apologise, but that thought was quickly thrown out the window when you felt him kissing you back fiercely.

The bed under you creaked when he shifted his weight, moving to lay almost on top of you. His chains dangled from his wide chest and you reached around to pull him even closer to you. He complied and leaned down even further, his rounded belly now pressing up against you. A gasp escaped you at the feeling of his weight pushing you down into the mattress, utterly trapped and at his mercy.

One of his ring clad hands moved up from your hip to gently cup your cheek. The cool metal felt good on your burning skin and you felt Elvis smiling into the kiss. His lips were so incredibly soft and hot as they sloppily worked against yours and you weren’t able to form one coherent thought. When his hot, wet tongue slipped out to trace over your bottom lip you couldn’t contain a little groan.

You reached up to tread your fingers through the coarse hair on his chest, stroking up and down, while he tightened his grip on your waist. The contradicting roughness you felt against your hands versus the wonderful softness against your lips was an intoxicating combination. It was just so very him. He pulled away from you, allowing you to catch your breath and you looked at each other, breathing heavily.

“...Elvis, this isn’t good,” you whispered, a half-hearted attempt to stop him. To stop yourself. Both.

He licked his lips and trailed a lazy finger over your hip.

“Ya don’t like this?” he asked, looking at you from beneath his shades incredulously.

“Oh god...I- I do,” you stammered helplessly after he had rubbed soothing circles over your hip for almost a minute.

He smiled and leaned down to bury his face against your neck, peppering soft, sweet kisses along your pulse point, making you giggle. Then you felt his warm hand gliding under your shirt, pushing the fabric upwards until your bra was exposed. His attack on your neck stopped and he leaned back to watch you, biting his lip. What a pretty picture you were for him, with your face wonderfully flushed, biting your lip and breathing heavily. Your face grew even more hot under his intense gaze and the way he licked his lips and smirked down at you sent shock waves to your core. You quickly pulled the shirt over your head and dropped it onto the floor next to the bed. Ugh, still too hot.

“Lord have mercy,” he breathed, as he watched your chest rise and fall quickly with every laboured breath you took. He cupped one breast in each hand and his lip curled, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Ladies, you two look real fun. You can be my new best friends,” he cooed as he squeezed them together and leaned down to nuzzle into them with a playful growl. You laughed and the motion made them jiggle, much to his delight.

“E, you’re being silly,” you giggled.

“No, I’m being serious. I need to play with these before every show now. Will ya let me? Best stress balls ever, I’ll tell ya.”

“You are impossible. Can’t take you nowhere,” you replied with a grin and gently stroked his cheek.

“Let an old man have some fun, Julie baby,” he mumbled with a smile. He softly kissed your collarbone before carefully hoisting you up, his hands on your back, to unclasp your bra with his nimble fingers.

You let out a surprised ‘Oh!’ when he hastily pulled the undergarment off you and tossed it onto the floor. His eyes roamed over your form for what felt like hours, a mix of appreciation and concentration in his gaze, as if trying to memorize every little detail. It made you throw your arms over your face, a weak attempt to hide the fact that you were as red as a tomato. He clicked his tongue and reached up, wanting to move your arms away, finding it incredibly cute how flustered you were. He gently ran his fingers over your skin.

“Sweetheart, let me look at you,” he sang.

You stubbornly refused to let him see you and possibly laugh at you, and he quickly realised you wouldn’t budge. He smirked as he decided to alter his tactic. You felt his hands wandering downwards along you neck, over your chest and onto your stomach. He briefly paused there, his fingers drumming against your skin, before beginning to tickle your sides which caused you to squeal and laugh so hard that your stomach started to ache.

“E, stop!” you finally gasped, trying to catch your breath.

Eventually you moved your arms and swatted away his bold, exploring hands, making him grin triumphantly.

“You’re not playing fair!” you laughed.

“All is fair in love and war. Never heard of that?”

You wanted nothing more than to wipe that goofy, smug grin off his face when he leaned down to kiss the tip of your nose.

“...You’re such a pretty baby.” He whispered and rubbed his cheek against yours, reminding you of a cat, his sideburns tickling you. “Pretty, pretty, pretty.”

He mumbled into your cheek over and over again and you wrapped your arms around his wide frame. His hips started to move, slowly thrusting up against you in a steady pace and wetness pooled between your legs when you felt him growing against your clothed cunt. You let out a high pitched moan and his soft tongue licked a long stripe across your cheek in response. He felt your nails digging into his back, your fingers cramping and he softly whined against your ear, making you throb even more. God, it had to be a criminal offence to make such sounds.

You eagerly moved your hands to open the buttons of his deep v neck shirt, needing to see, feel his chest and stomach in their entire glory. It also felt unfair that you were almost naked and he was still fully clothed. After the first two buttons were open, you slipped your hand inside and stroked his soft belly. Suddenly he jolted away as if he’d burned himself. You drew back your hand and saw some of the insecurity you’d seen earlier this day flash in his eyes. But then it was gone again as quickly as it came and instead a stern look took over his beautiful features.

“Sweetheart, no,” he said determinedly.

“Why not?” you whined and reached out to fumble with the remaining buttons. He grasped your hands in his and lifted them to his mouth, kissing the back of them two, three, four times.

“...This is about you,” he muttered as he released your hands and moved to caress your bare stomach. You got the impression this statement wasn’t entirely true.

“But-“

“No buts, stubborn little lady.” He shook his head, his eyes trained on his fingers as they traced invisible patterns around your belly button.

“What happened to you liking it when I take care of you?” you pouted while lightly playing with his chains that were still dangling over you.

He reached up to brush some hair from your face and caressed your cheekbones with his knuckles.

“Please, Julie... let me show you,” he whispered with a sudden urgency in his voice, his eyes shining pleadingly under the tinted glass.

You removed his shades to get a better look at them. His deep blue eyes were almost completely black, pupils blown wide with desire, but there was also this intense vulnerability again, which overwhelmed you every time. You could tell how important this was for him right now and slowly nodded. Then you leaned forward and planted a quick kiss against his lips, which he almost anxiously returned, one hand coming up to softly knead your breast.

He eventually pulled away from you and moved down your body, gently kissing each pebbled nipple once, making you arch up against his skilled mouth before he trailed feather-light kisses along your stomach. He sat down between your legs and his hands skimmed over your hips until they stopped at the waistband of your pants. He briefly lifted you up, his hands on your butt and began to pull them down slowly. You watched with anticipation as he exposed more and more of your bare skin in slow motion, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration again. He did that a lot.

After your legs were finally completely bare under his praising eyes, he ran his hands up and down along them, whistling appreciatively. Then he gripped the back of your left knee and lifted it until your calf rested on his shoulder.

“Your legs, sweetheart,” he groaned and tapped against your thigh. “When I see you striding around with these in your lil’ platforms... Lordy, I just wanna be wrapped up in them. Every. Damn. Time.”

He turned his head and brushed his lips across your calf, the possessive grip on the back of your knee not faltering and his hot breath causing goosebumps to form on your skin. He pushed your knee back towards you until his soft mouth arrived at your ankle. Then he pulled off your shoes and tossed them off the bed, making them clatter as they landed next to the rest of your discarded clothes.

You raised your head when you felt his teeth grazing your skin, gently biting down on your ankle. He briefly kissed the light bite marks and moved up your calf again. The way his eyes were closed in bliss and his breathing ragged was almost too much for you to handle and you threw your head back into the pillow. He almost seemed to enjoy this more than you, the thought making you feel even warmer inside.

You promptly sat up again and wrapped your arms around his neck, needing to feel his velvety lips against yours again after the rest of your body got so much sweet attention from them. You held onto the hair at his neck when you felt his tongue lazily gliding over your bottom lip and moved your hips against his, feeling the slight bulge in his trousers. You reached down, your hand gliding over his crotch, feeling him half hard against your palm. He swiftly caught your wrist and brought it up to his cheek, shaking his head.

“Nuh uh, Julie baby, forget it. I already told you, this is about you. You really gotta to learn how to listen,” he chuckled, fingers gently tugging at your earlobe. “Now lie back, sweetheart, let me take care of ya. I’ll handle it.”

He hummed, his big hand sprawled across your chest, gently forcing you back against the pillow. You wordlessly stared at him as he moved back between your legs, his gaze lingering on the panties you still wore. He leaned down to get a better look at them and hooked his fingers under the waistband, toying with it.

After briefly meeting your eyes again and taking in your flushed face, he pulled them down, his hands grazing over your legs again. Your toes curled when he bunched your panties up in his fist with a grin.

“Sweetheart, these are soaked. Why didn’t ya say anything? Cat got your tongue again?” he cooed. You answered by wrapping your leg around his back, pulling him closer to you.

“Oh, I see we’re eager today, Julie baby? No words, just straight to the point. Hold on, let’s see what I can do about that,” he rumbled and lightly kissed along your inner thigh, getting closer and closer to your glistening pussy.

Just when you thought he’d pay attention to where you needed him most, he moved away again and started peppering your other thigh with sweet kisses and kitten licks.

“E! I swear-” you moaned, and tightened your leg around him, growing more and more impatient with him, the throbbing in your core nearly driving you insane.

“Oh, now she can talk again. What do you want, sweetheart?” he mumbled as he rubbed his cheek against your skin, barely able to conceal the smile tugging at his lips.

“That tickles, stop!” you laughed and moved to scoot away from him, but his hands quickly shot out to grab your hips, effectively holding you still.

You held onto the satin bed sheet when his mouth moved over the supple flesh of your thigh again, kissing and sucking at the soft skin there, surely leaving one or two hickeys. After for what felt like hours, you finally felt his hot breath ghosting over your clit, the tingling feeling in your lower belly growing stronger. You wanted to thrust up to him, desperate for any sort of friction, but found that he still had your hips in an iron grip, his fingers digging almost painfully into your skin. Each time you attempted to free yourself he tightened his hold, making it impossible to move. A whimper escaped you when he softly kissed your folds, his nose bumping into your mound.

“Quit the teasing!” you cried out, and he smirked up at you like he was having the time of his life.

“Julie baby, why are you so impatient? I told ya I’ll take care of ya,” he reminded you and licked a long stripe along your clit after deeply inhaling your scent. It made you throw your arm over your face again and you bit your hand to muffle the moans escaping you when he began to gently suckle at your sensitive nub.

One of his hands moved up to your breast and began to fondle it again, lightly pinching your nipple. You felt like your whole body was on fire, sweat forming on your forehead and you desperately wished someone would drop a bucket of ice water over you. Elvis’ moans and grunts, combined with the wet slurping noises made your ears ring and your legs began shaking from pleasure. You placed a hand over his, still gently massaging your breast and squeezed, encouraging him to increase the pressure, making him hiss.

“Damn, sweetheart... You’re so fucking wet, baby,” he grunted, voice muffled as he was still buried between your legs.

You slowly felt your orgasm approaching and grabbed onto his hair, desperate for something to ground you. You pushed his face harder against your pussy, his skilled tongue greedily trying to catch every last drop of your arousal and you nearly passed out when you suddenly felt him insert two fingers into your hole. You moaned and arched against him, your fingers and toes flexing uncontrollably when he curled his fingers inside you, his lips sucking on your clit even harder than before.

“E, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you just managed to get out before shockwaves of pleasure rolled over you, a feeling of weightlessness in your bones. It only spurred him on as he continued throughout your orgasm, desperate to get each and every little sound out of you.

When you started wriggling against him from overstimulation he pulled away from you with a stupid grin plastered on his face and withdrew his fingers, making you shudder once again. He gleefully put them in his mouth, sucking off remains of you.

“Ya taste so sweet, I can’t get enough of that.” You attempted to lean up on your elbows to kiss him, but found that your muscles were still rather limp. “Was that alright, Julie baby? Did I make ya feel good?”

“E, are you joking? You’re the best.” You smiled, your fingers ghosting over his lips. “What about you, though?” His warm mouth engulfed your finger, briefly sucking on it.

“Mmh, if I only knew before that it was that easy to tame ya.”

“Don’t get cheeky now, Presley,” you huffed.

“Ah, there she is again. I might just-“ He lazily grinned and slipped his hand between your legs to cup your overstimulated pussy again, making you jump.

“God!” you gasped when he drew back his hand and smiled innocently, while you playfully glared at him. You reached up and played with his collar.  “...But really... let me take care of you now.”

“Nah, it’s alright, sweetheart... Little Elvis is more than happy to see ya, believe me. But he’s just a bit tired today, it was a long day. Ya understand that, right?” You hesitantly nodded.

“...Okay, E. Next time,” you mumbled and gently ran your hand through his hair. He laid down his head on your thigh and absentmindedly began drawing patterns on your lower belly again, lips puckered as if deep in thought.

After a while, his eyes grew more and more heavy and you watched him battle his sleepiness. It gave you time to begin reflecting on what had happened and you quickly found that it gave you a massive headache. Was this a one-time occasion? Was it a slip-up? Would it become a regular thing? You had just muttered something about a next time without thinking. Lord have mercy!

As long as you weren’t sure about the nature of this new layer in your relationship with him you weren’t to eager to let anyone else know. That’s something you were sure about. The only thing.

You shifted slightly, your current position not at all comfortable, which caused Elvis to rouse again. He gave you a sleepy smile and clumsily crawled on top of you again, eyes half lidded and dazed.

“God, what are we going to do now?” you thought out loud.

“Mmmh, I wanna cuddle with ya,” he muttered and smushed his lips against yours with a loud smack.

“...We can’t tell no one.” you whispered, regaining your senses and staring up at the ceiling. He hummed.

“...Whatever you say, Mommy,” he cooed and buried his face in your neck as his soft stomach pressed up against your side once more, his weight on top of you immediately comforting.

“I mean it, E,” you insisted, hoping he’d manage to be serious for just a moment. He wasn’t really known for being good at keeping secrets.

“Mhm. Me too. Lordy, you’re so soft and warm, sweetheart,” he slurred and closed his eyes after a quick peck to your neck.

You sighed with a smile and pressed a kiss against his forehead while wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. There was no use in overthinking the situation right now. He smiled into your neck, still distinctly thinking about the sounds you made while he pleasured you. It felt like a lullaby.

You made a mental note to have this particular talk with him in the morning. Or, technically, afternoon and hoped he would understand.

“Good night, darling,” you murmured and dosed off with your hand resting on his chest, feeling, monitoring, his steady breathing like every night. Except everything was different now.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

Hi hello I watched all of carmilla in a weekend when I was 17 because a student teacher who in retrospect I had a bit of a crush on mentioned that she knew one of the actresses. also I am pretty invested in all your recent vampire stuff because I watched iwtv in 2 days last week because your edit intrigued me

oh hiiii 🫶 thank you for indulging me. thats so cool that you watched iwtv! did it live up to the expectation?

i also watched carmilla at 17! or like, 17-19. i found it when s2 had just started and followed it to the end. did something permanent to my brain but i think it was a good thing. on rewatch now im like, i was right to like this. like it's a solid show, it's good. it has its flaws obviously but it's well written, the emotional moments still get me, i can see why i liked it and i still like it now even when it's not anymore, you know, meeting every need that baby gay me didnt even know they had

what it doesnt reaallyy do though - i dont remember if i posted abt this or if i left it in my drafts but - is explore vampirism as a concept. their subject matter is more lesbianism than vampirism. which is great! thats what they wanted to do and they did it and it's very good. but reading interview with the vampire the book rn im realising how much potential vampires have to be metaphors for like so many things and i started wondering like 'wait, did carmilla just not really engage with it or did it all go over my head'. but it just didnt really engage with it all that much. which again is fine bc that wasnt what they were doing. im glad they were more about the lesbianism than the vampirism

but there's this interesting difference in framing, because in iwtv they keep calling armand 'ancient' right? and emphasising how old he is. and he's like 500? and i was like 'wait isnt carmilla like 400?'. she isnt, shes 340, but still, thats getting there, you know? and we know quite a lot about her history, but kind of just the Big Events. when she was turned, the events of the novella, coffin of blood, silas. thats sort of what we know. but none of the long lonely slog of history day to day you know? with armand i feel like we can really feel how much time everything takes. how every one of those years is made up of single days. with carmilla i dont feel that as much. i keep kind of thinking about daniel, when louis calls him a boy in the first episode, saying "im an old man, with all the triggers that come with it"

because carmilla might look 18 (or mid twenties at this point) but she has lived all that time. shes also seen her native land be claimed by like a succession of ruling powers, right? like armand. shes been buried alive, like louis. when lestat is born, shes already 80 years old, shes lived a whole human lifetime, and the entire adult part of it shes been a vampire. shes lived through 1680-1870 being a lure. i compared her to abigail hobbs in some tags on a post, i dont know if youre familiar with hannibal the tv show, but i do also kinda keep thinking about that comparison

if youre not familiar, in the first episode of hannibal the murderer of the week is this guy garrett jacob hobbs who kills and cannibalises girls who resemble his daughter. and later on it turns out she was made to be his lure. like they'd go places and he'd sent her to the victims to make friends and maybe get them back to their home or smth. not sure if they specified all the details. but that's what carmilla did for mother. and in s2 we hear from mattie that while every couple of decades carmilla had to lure victims for the fish god, she also seemed to just enjoy humans between those times, right? like the doctor, gets lonely, gets a new companion. but we've only sort of got mattie's mocking word for it ("dont eat him, hes a poet! or her, shes got such a wonderful voice. or that one, shes just too pretty to ruin"), we don't know exactly from carmilla's point of view what she was doing or why. if mattie's talking about stuff that happened after the blood coffin, 1950-now, then i think it's a fair assumption based on what carmilla says in the s1 sock puppet show that after she'd figured out what the real situation was and what her role in it was, when she'd started trying to save girls from being sacrificed, that she mightve been doing the same trying to save people from becoming mattie's victims. it's probably more likely that she was just trying to find excuses to stop mattie from sucking someone dry rather than actually having like an aesthetic based morality. but it might be a bit of both. im still trying to figure out what her philosophy actually is, like i dont know what existentialism actually means ghkfjghkj but i will

i also found it pretty striking in the movie when shes turning back into a vampire she says like "this was supposed to be done, you know? the blood lust, the self-loathing, the sleeping tied to a chair in my own bedroom". thats what defines her vampirism, wanting blood and hating yourself for it (the third part is a joke/reference to s1 but also i think meaningful for how she sees her relationship with laura when she IS a vampire. little bit of that 'she will reject me for my monstrousness' shining through). and thats what defines vampirism for lots of vampires across the genre obviously, but i dont know, it struck me. we dont get a lot from carmilla's pov, we know a fair amount about her, but the story is always told through laura. we get laura's diaries, but just snippets here and there from carmilla, what shes thinking, how shes feeling

and i love that shes a philosopher. i love that thats how she seems to try and find something to hold onto, in a world that kind of moves around her, having been murdered, kidnapped, turned and groomed to be a lure on the cusp of adulthood, never having been properly loved (the relationship with her father wasnt good she says in s3, and her mortal mother i dont think has ever been mentioned (like laura's)). the only good relationship she seems to have had for the better part of 3 centuries seems to have been mattie, and mattie seems to love being a vampire. i can imagine carmilla just sort of going along with anything mattie wants to do just because shes so desperate for that friendship. not like, against her will necessarily really. but more like, she hasnt even had the space to develop her own will, you know? and philosophy lets you do that. philosophy gives you frameworks to understand the world and to develop your own opinions on it. and by the 21st century she seems to have developed those opinions, she has a sense of her own values, but shes also still stuck in that same situation. shes jaded and cynical in the face of laura's optimism and strong moral code a lot of the time in s1 because she feels probably pretty powerless. like she does what she can to save some girls but at the end of the day shes scared of her mother and she has nowhere else to go really, right?

i like how she grapples with that over the course of the series, in tandem with laura grappling with her black and white morality. she sort of jumps ship from her mother to laura bc theyve fallen in love, but then laura still stuck in her hero thinking refuses to see her monstrous side. not literally bc i think the biological vampirism never seemed to be a problem for laura, but morally. the having murdered. carmilla needs laura to see that and love her while seeing it bc the last girl she loved rejected her for being a vampire.

but you see her kind of swing back and forth in s2. she softens first with laura but then they break up and she leans back hard into the sarcastic cynic defense mechanisms, leans hard into "im a monster, dont expect heroism from me". but thats like, it's sort of learned helplessness i think. it's powerlessness, resignation. bc morally shes not a monster. maybe she doesnt have as strong a drive to help other people as laura does and is a little more selfishly hedonistic in that she just wants to enjoy her/their life, but she doesnt hurt people for fun, she never has. she just sort of didnt have another option for a Really long time. so she pretends she doesnt care. "im a vampire, this is what i do, this is who i am". but clearly from the way she talks about it when she turns back into one, she doesnt enjoy it

and i like how she goes even further in s3, where she starts swinging even more to the heroic side, bc she sees hope. shes like "wow if we kill my mother, i'd be free". theres hope and she becomes like a lot more active. and shes like that at the start of the movie too, a lot happier, a lot more relaxed, and then vampirism is back and bam depression gfhgkjh like shes immediately more gloomy, ashamed of her past and her self, retreats into herself

sorry i just took this as an opportunity to dump all the carmilla thoughts floating in my head on you. you didnt ask fhkghgjh consider this an open invitation to you or anyone else to come talk to me about carmilla