#tardy to the party as always. i debated not finishing this but i felt i had so little oc works in my repertoire so i wanted to change that!

[alicenpai]

⭐🌛🌞 november trick or treating... spooky season can be anytime if you aint a scaredy cat!!! flynn, terence, nate - from my series Lost & Found Children

some WIPs!

^ some theatre costume designs that inspired Flynn's outfit. originally I wanted more of a pierrot motif, but I went with a sortof celestial angel to match nate's fiery devil. I do want to draw them all as pierrots one day...

my friend asked about the "costume" part of this - terence is not wearing a "halloween costume" per se, because he thinks he's too mature for costumes (haha). hence the star moon and sun theme to unify all of their outfits. he IS a piano player in the story, who wears a similar outfit to concerts, so you can see him as being a sort of astronomical musician for the occasion. i think these designs turned out pretty rad and since they're not "stereotypical" halloween fare, i would like to use them again...

tumblr killed my drafts... and unfortunately I am too tired to type out more of the description that got lost.

[anteroom-of-death]

Life, for Dummies p1

a/n: plz love me and go easy. i haven’t written anything since dodos were alive....

You were new to the “fam”. The Doctor picked you up randomly like a stray. Not that you minded most days. It felt like transfering to a school in March: the middle of the semester. And much like high school, friends groups were already formed. Hell, you couldn’t believe that Yaz and the Doc weren’t slamming each other against the walls and making out running down corridors and such. 

Graham especially treated you well. Like a pottering but wicked smart granddad. Ryan too, you could bond over basketball and other fun stuff. But still. A second out of step. Any time you had these thoughts, you shoved it down and cursed not totally growing out of your middle school “I’m not like other girls!” mindset. Which, what the fuck? You were a grown ass woman. 

“Y/N?” the Doctor said waving a hand in front of you, snapping you from your reverie as you came to the present. You are on Gallifrey and there’s some psycho of the week- named the Master looking ferally at you all like he was planning what bathtub you’d wake up in with a kidney missing. You totally zoned out. The Wii Mii music might as well be what plays when you enter a room. 

Shaking yourself you tried to size up the current threat. So- this is where the Doctor’s from? No bad considering it looked like a mix between Dresden after the bombing and Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It had lots of open fields. Big skies. Plenty of sunlight from two burning suns so no “When the street lights kick on, you come back in!” The image of a tiny little blonde baby-Doc bobbing around chasing space fireflies was cute. 

Damn reveries. 

“Be afraid Doctor!” He said five minutes earlier. 

How could anyone be afraid of that. Sure when swapping past stories they told you he was crazy and killed people. The grunting he made coming through the portal was not something fearful. They were oddly sexual. The Doctor’s greatest enemy? Was right before you?

“I should have had more coffee!” You whined under your breath. Honestly. All this running, you didn’t know if you needed to mainline Folger’s or get one of those dorky water packs suburban white dads had for hiking.

This fucker grinned at that. “You’re funny!” He giggled pointing at you. Figures he had like, super sonic hearing. “You didn’t tell me you had funny little humans with you this time!” 

“Hilarious dude! Can you even reach the shelves in the grocery store?” It was a pithy attempt at humor. The man had no right calling humans small. 

He laughed and looked like he was debating killing you. He gave a resounding twirlin’ and then went onto monologue as if he were written by Joss Wheden. Mainly at the Doctor. But he kept glancing over at you. Yaz and Ryan were obviously acting on primal instinct of figuring how to take the Master down and Graham looked half bored. They’d met him before. Graham looked like he was just waiting for it to be done. Graham was chill. Reliable. He didn’t fly off the handle as much as the rest of you all. He was older. He was one margarita away from becoming a Parrothead. You liked that. 

The Master’s glances felt disarming. Like he’d already seen you without your clothing. Not that it felt like a bad thing. He wasn’t unattractive as far as aliens went. Actually, kind of hot. The kind of hot you’d go for if it wasn’t for the fact he was massively evil, tried to kill all humans, and is currently being a bastard to your close friends. Something unique about his clapping. You did that when you were over excited. 

He was dashing. 

His eyes were large and just drew you in, mentally you knew every time he glanced over. Like he wanted to let you know it was for you and you alone. And he was fit, still soft. Something about the soft jaw, slight roundness to thighs and slight slouch of the tummy. The swagger and toothy grins? His skin looked soft and nice too. Crazy fashion sense. Maybe the inability to dress yourself was a Time Lord thing? 

G-d, those lips, so round and full and a nice color. You shoved a thought about, other parts being that color away. Were you really here, having a team huddle, imagining the evil bad man’s cock? Desperation, party of one. You hadn’t been laid in a long time, but really?

“Y/N!” Yaz asked as you looked over and the Master smirked directly at you, like he knew you were trying to picture his cock at that moment. “What do you think?”

You groaned, “I don’t know!” your voice peaked a hoarse few octaves. The Master had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even touch you. 

“He seems mega powerful.” You throw your hands out to exaggerate. He turned and pointed you out, “You have no idea what powers I have.”

“Man, shut the fuck up, or I’m gunna hit you.” You said plainly. Your eyes rolled back into your skull. You were suddenly your normal self again. He was just some dude, like any you’d see on the streets trying to undermine your confidence or get you to give him the time of day.

“No you won’t.” And he was right. 

So you all just followed the lead of your fearless leader, the Doctor…

_________________________3 Weeks Later __________________________

You were back home. It was Corona Time. And definitely not the fun kind. You were worried absolutely sick. Was the Doctor alive? What about Gallifrey? What was all of that? So many questions raced through your quarantined mind. That and a few errant daydreams about the Master taking you with what you assumed had to be a massive cock. What was that overused phrase you’d seen the internet use? Big Dick Energy? The man had got to have had a set of cojones on him for the amount.

You couldn’t shake that son of a bitch from your mind. 

He was hauntingly attractive. But evil. You were in a moral panic 24/7. You felt like those soulfully pained eyes followed you around your house all the time. 

You were trying to focus on finding work from home jobs that were legitimate. You gave up your career to run around and play 5th wheel and now you were paying. Shelter inside? More like buying lots of unneeded skincare to fill a new void in you.

You were just ready to click “apply” on Indeed when those asthmatic engine noises started pounding in your yard. Was that the Doctor? Saving you from going insane and buying the 200 plus dollars in your cart on DHC’s webstore. 

No, you didn’t see a kitschy blue box, but a stately match for your shed, but nicer. 

Who should appear? But the rat bastard himself. 

Boy, you were so screwed.

Suddenly he smiled politely and waved at you through the window. He pointed at your back door and was asking to be let in. 

Cautiously you opened the window. “Go away, Master.” 

“Is that polite to say? I’m your first visitor in weeks and you shove me-” He faux-shocked put his hand over his mouth “away?” You couldn’t tell if he was faking being insulted or for reals.

“I’d shove Timmy down a well if he killed my best friend and all her people.”

“Let me in, I just want to talk.” He opened his hand like he was caught red handed. 

You slammed the window down harder than probably recommended. You felt the slam’s noise in your jaw. He’d get the message maybe. Or maybe you’d let him in and pin his ass to the living room carpet. Choices, choices. You went back and clicked ‘place order’, your bank account app dinged and said you had less than fifty dollars left. No one was going nowhere so it didn’t matter. You finished your tea in a few gulps. You made your choice. 

Opening up the window, you shouted “Take off your jacket and place all of your weapons and your TARDIS key on the patio. Shoes too. Toss them into the Rose of Sharon.” You’d be damned if he was gonna kill you in your own house, surrounded by your own possessions, in your own damn town. 

“What’s a Rose of Sharon Y/N?” He asked, genuinely confused. “It’s the dead bush that’s claimed the entire ramp up to my patio…” Sighing you pointed at it. 

He giggled and obliged. 

Always giggling. 

He knocked as you were rooting for your sharpest whatever you could find. You opened the door and ushered him in. Almost comically, you began patting him down and weidling your weapon of choice. Excellent ass, you had to admit. Soft, yet firm. 

“Having a good feel, love?” He asked as you were admiring it. 

“Hey, you never know…” You off-brand sighed. He was nice to touch. It was addictive. 

He paced around your home, looking at the photos of you and your family. The stack of bills in boxes, your life. Like he was examining art in a museum. 

“I don’t appreciate you fondling my fruit.” You said when he’d made his way into your kitchen. 

He grinned, “Isn’t it customary for you humans to offer a beverage or a snack to guests?” 

Massaging your temples you handed him one of those nutri grain granola bars that crumble everywhere and a can of Coke. 

“Not very much, huh?” 

“There's a pandemic out there you dense motherfucker!” You shouted almost singing the words “pandemic” and “motherfucker”, throwing your arms upwards for examples.

You felt like you could swear around him. With the rest of your current social circle you felt like there was a PG-13 limit to your speech. 

“Forgive me.” He rolled his eyes. Tit for tat matching you. He leaned heavy on his seat and opened up the can and drank politely. You almost believed him

“So why are you here?” sitting down across from him cracking your finger joints and wrists out of habit. “Run out of people to piss off in space?” 

“Oh, always plenty there.” 

You snorted. 

“You seem very sure of yourself. Different from her other little pets.” He said. “Or, is it just a show…” He bore directly into your soul. “I’d believe it.” You glared at him, still holding your weapon, sure it wasn’t much. But to quote a legend “That’s my purse, I don’t know you!”

“You know what they say when you assume…” You put it out there.

“I don’t know!” He fumed on a hairpin notice. “Something about a donkey!”

“Relax, Jeeze.” You let out a nervous chuckle.

He grinned that megawatt, perfectly white smile with teeth better than most Hollywood actors. 

“You’re bored.” He observed.

“I’ve been confined in my house for three weeks.” You stated.

“What if...you weren’t.” He weighed the words out. Almost physically with his hands. G-d those hands. How soaked in blood were they? But how dexterous were they? You swatted away thoughts of how nice they’d be buried in you, “Oy, gevalt!” You said. Noticing you had been staring at his fingertips for a second too long…

“You seem distracted...Is it me? Is the Doctor’s little pet wanting to try out some real leadership?” He mocked, but there was some other little tone to it. Care? Amusement? Yearning? A combination of all four? Who knows. You didn’t.

His eyes had the most whimsical gorgeous glow, and his eyelashes had the most attractive flutter.

“Ya caught me!” You barked with all the false sarcasm you could feign. 

“Oh, I promise that I won’t blow up any planets, kick any orphans, wreck a ship carrying puppies and kittens for adoption... I’ll just show you the real way to see the stars. None of that running through corridors and fighting for your life. The way it should be seen.” He said, his nice waistcoat coated in crumbs. 

“Or are you a coward? Afraid to see the other side of the coin? Y/N.” You were inherently a little bit of a coward. He crooked a crooked grin.

You pondered and helped yourself to an apple. Hoping that he’d see your teeth and that’d be another layer of “Don’t fuck with me, Please!” Though you desperately almost craved to be fucked with at this point.

You pause and consider this, is it betrayal? To follow your instincts and go off with a literal madman instead of your new “fam” because and called you on your self-sure bullshit?

“Is she alive? Is the Doctor alive?” You pleaded. A bit of tears threatening to come up.

“Yes, of course.” He assured you. It was very comforting. He slowly grabbed at your hand. “I may not be a man of a lot of truths, but I’ll tell you this. She always somehow comes out on top. It’s frustrating.” The warmth was real in his voice and in his eyes.

You closed your eyes and willed yourself sane. But the little nagging at your core said to. Give in, give up. Go with him. 

“‘Kay.” You nodded. Suddenly sullen. “I’ll go.” The smile you gave was tired and you got up. You were almost shaking. He touched you and you came undone. This was not healthy. You’d blame the self-isolation, but deep down you knew it went deeper. Your jaw was trembling a bit. Self-preservation was gone. 

You screwed yourself up again and poked a finger on his chest. “Try anything funny that gets me killed and I’m stabbing you.” 

“No, you won’t.” This time, it was an order. An order wrapped in velvet and coated in chocolate.

You turned to go pack and he grabbed at your wrist. “No, you don't need that. I got a wardrobe department worthy of choice.” He grabbed at his shirt and brandished his look. 

“Fine.” You said. So tired, but feeling more alive than you had in years at once. 

Grabbing your hand and all his stuff out of your yard he pulled you into his TARDIS and it left. Off to the next….

[wishingitwerewolfstar]

bravery and other obscenities

my @wolfstar-secret-santa gift for @smartass-mee, hope you like it!!

Remus was going to be late for class.

Admittedly, so was Sirius, but this was both less rare and less consequential. All a professor had to do was glance at Sirius' smile and his last name on the roster before suddenly their stack of detention slips was mysteriously missing and it was 'Well, I suppose it won't happen again, will it?' even though it had happened before and all involved and observing parties knew it most certainly would happen again.

Remus, on the other hand, would be scrubbing cauldrons until the house elves began to make breakfast the next morning.

All because Sirius had insisted on going the long way, through the left wing, for no reason apparent to Remus.

He wasn't as mad about it as he would have liked to be though.

Honest, he kept trying to be mad, because his education was important, as was his time, and he wanted to care about lecture even if some things (like the odd fullness in his chest and the every movement Sirius' thumb made against the back of Remus' hand) loomed larger in his mind.

It was new, so new, and yet it felt ancient. It felt like Remus had had Sirius’ heart forever, probably because, if he's honest with himself, Sirius had had Remus’ heart forever, long before their fumbled confessions and kisses in the pumpkin patch the month before.

So when Sirius took the long way, Remus followed.

Sirius stepped closer and pressed a kiss to Remus' cheek, lingering and firm and warm.

Remus froze and almost fought the blush off his cheeks before remembering he didn’t have to anymore. He had other options now, like, for example, guiding Sirius’ chin with the ends of his fingers until they were properly kissing, and resting a hand on his waist while he was at it. 

Finally, Remus pulled away because he did have some level of concern for tardiness. He was definitely going to get detention but that didn’t mean he had to miss the whole lecture. Sirius only smiled at him with somewhat labored breathing and shakily pointed up above them.

“Sorry, Moony, there was some mistletoe. Nothing to be done for it.”

Remus nodded with a certain lightness between his lungs as he pretended not to see Sirius slip his wand back into his pocket and hurried them off to class. 

James had brought some of his lights from Diwali back out and arranged them around their room, and Remus had set his grandfather’s menorah out on his dresser, Peter was decorating a tree he very proudly reported he cut down himself (with the help of his wand) from the Forbidden Forest (and subsequently magically shrunk down to a manageable size). It was an impressive bit of magic, if perhaps not an impressive feat of manual labor. Sirius had announced that he was in charge of “the ambiance” when it came to decor, which apparently meant covering absolutely every possible surface in ribbon or garland, no matter how many times James complained of the loose bits of evergreen in his shoes. 

It also, apparently, meant hanging mistletoe directly over Remus’ bed.

“I wish I could help you Moony, but it’s just absolutely necessary for the decor.” Sirius explained as he changed into his pajamas for the night, “If I move it anywhere else, it’ll mess with the energy flow, and it could potentially ruin Christmas. And Hannakuh. And Solstice and all of the above. The spirit of the holiday season rests on the precise placement of this mistletoe. You wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that, would you?”

“I don’t suppose I would,” said Remus, trying to be subtle about his disappointment when the brief period between Sirius’ uniform and his pajama shirt came to an end.

“Then it’s settled,” Sirius nodded with an air of self-importance before making a huge show of tripping over what appeared to be thin air and sticking a shaky landing which just so happened to be under the mistletoe.

An innocent face and a few steps later, Sirius got what he wanted, and stepped away some time later thoroughly kissed. 

"Truly unfortunate, to be sure," Sirius said, swaying from side to side a bit as if in a cartoon, "but it's strictly necessary for the good of mankind."

Remus nodded, "Whatever you say, baby."

Then he walked away smiling, with his back to the sounds of Sirius slowly dying where he'd left him.

Wednesday night after Sirius had finished helping Remus with his testosterone shot like usual, they stood in the empty dorm, with an awkward distance between them neither knew how to cross. 

Sirius ran his hands through his hair, a habit he’d picked up from James, “Do you, um, maybe want to go for a walk?”

Remus blinked, “A walk?”

“Yeah.”

Remus racked his brain for the last time someone had asked him to simply go for a walk, not a game of pick up quidditch or a snowball fight or quick few hexes at whatever Slytherins might be lurking around the dungeons. “Have you been spending too much time in dog form?”

“No, I just. You know. Thought it would be nice to go for a walk. Or not, if you don’t want to. We could go to the astronomy tower though. Or anywhere! Or nowhere! It’s all fine with me, honestly,” Sirius’ cheeks were terribly pink and he’d quite suddenly lost the ability to hold eye contact. Oh, Remus realized like the first breath above the surface of the Black Lake, he’s as nervous as I am.

“Pads, it’s fine, let’s go for a walk. We’ll go to the astronomy tower.”

Sirius laughed in a poor attempt to the relieved exhale he let out, “Cool. But we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Noted. Now are you coming?” Remus held out his hand and Sirius, with a sheepish blush, gratefully took it. 

The astronomy tower was frightfully cold at that time of year, so Remus quickly summoned a blanket and wrapped it around their shoulders once they’d squeezed in next to each other on a windowsill, legs dangling off the side of the tower. Sirius closed his eyes for a moment, and concentrated very hard as he whispered a few different spells, one hand gripping the edge of the blanket and the other his wand. After a few minutes, two mugs of hot chocolate came gently floating up the steps and over towards the windowsill to join them. 

Remus felt a sudden wave of emotions surge up, a mix of affection and the certain amount of attraction Sirius’ natural skill with magic always evoked in Remus.

“Did you know,” Remus took a sip from his mug, far too hot but worth the burned tongue, “that you’re perfect?”

Sirius grinned, “Yes, actually, yes I did.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “Merlin, your ego.”

“One of the most attractive things about me, I’d say.”

“You are deeply mistaken.”

“Oh yeah? What would you say is more attractive?” With a smug smile, Sirius leaned in.

Remus leaned out, but he was smiling too, “I’m not playing this game.”

“I think it would be beneficial for you. Get it off your chest.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

Sirius paused a moment and softly nodded, “When we leave for break tomorrow?”

“Mhm”

Sirius turned his eyes to the Forbidden Forest sprawling out in front of them, and Remus took the opportunity to stare openly at Sirius’s profile, feeling safe and yet terrified, protected and protective. This would be Sirius’ first holiday with the Potters, and it stirred up all sorts of tender emotions in Remus, pride, relief, gentle concern about the undoubted mixed feelings Sirus would have but try to deny, and the overwhelming urge to simply hold him, hidden away in bed and comforted until the week was over, though he knew he couldn’t.

“We’ll only be gone a week.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But I’ll miss you too.”

One day, Remus thought, that will not feel like a relief. One day, I will trust that without him having to say it. In return, he said, “Why, do you like me or something? How embarrassing for you.”

Sirius laughed and leaned his head on the stone of the window. Remus gently worried after him. Sirius was so external, so loud about the way he felt usually, that these quiet moments were a language Remus was still trying to learn. He couldn’t quite tell if Sirius was okay, and was about to give in and just ask when Sirius whispered, “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Being happy.”

Remus paused a moment and softly nodded, “Yeah, Pads, it is.”

“I think I like it.”

Remus breathed in, and then out, and he thought about being Gryffindor, and therefore brave, and how that sometimes meant loving good things that might leave someday, “I think I like it too.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and Remus, after great internal debate, rested his head on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius took a deep breath and Remus felt him reach to touch his wand briefly. 

“Oh, huh, look at that,” Sirius whispered in a terribly shaky voice, “Seems we sat under some mistletoe. Funny how we didn’t notice it before.”

“That is funny.”

“Yeah well, I guess it’s pretty easy to get distracted when you’re hanging around with me. I mean, why look at the ceiling when you could be looking at this-”

Remus kissed him. 

When he pulled away, Sirius closed the distance again. Something about this made Remus want to run laps around the castle, but he pulled away again, more softly this time, resting his forehead against Sirius’ as he whispered, “Sirius?”

Sirius had his eyes closed still and pressed his nose against Remus’, “Mhm?”

“Look at me.”

“Gladly.”

Remus nearly felt Sirius’ eyelashes against his face and suddenly Sirius’ eyes, open and trusting, meeting his, offering their full attention, proved to be too much, so Remus lost his train of thought for a moment and had to chase it down again.

When he finally found it, Remus said, “You don’t need an excuse to kiss me.”

Sirius blinked, as if this Remus had said something ridiculous, as if this was a radical concept. “I don’t?”

“You don’t. Not anymore. Not-” Remus hesitated, thinking once again about bravery and other obscenities, “Not ever again.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s-” Sirius, for once, seemed to be at a loss for words, and Remus was trying very very hard to keep his newfound confidence afloat until Sirius said, “That’s good.”

“Yeah?”

Sirius tucked his wand back in his pocket and brought his hand up to rest on Remus’ cheek, “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

They stayed there, in each other’s space, with Sirius running his thumb over Remus’ cheekbone, and for perhaps the first time in a month it was not even a little bit awkward. They were on the same page, and it was decidedly quite a pleasant page to be on.

“Hey Remus?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

Remus smiled, already leaning in, “I’d like that.”

[whifferdills]

could u write a fic where 12 has to marry nardole for some reason? asking for a friend thanks.

i would love nothing more than to do this for your friend, anon

12/Nardole, mostly gen, aliens tried to make them do it. ~1.6k words.

“The prophesies have spoken of this,” the woman said. “Two creatures, unified, descending from the stars.”

“The prophesies say these creatures will save us,” said the woman’s assistant.

“Through their love for each other,” the woman’s dog clarified.

The Doctor squinted. “Um.”

“We’re not - ” Nardole attempted, then bailed.

The Doctor looked at Nardole. Nardole shrugged.

“They have a lot of guns,” The Doctor whispered. “And this is a delicate area, temporally speaking. One mistake, the whole thing could unravel.”

“Might be better to just -”

“-Go with it, yes. For now.” The Doctor cleared his throat. “Love…saves all of us,” he said, a touch too theatrically.

The dog barked, and nudged Nardole’s leg, panting cheerfully. The wonan grinned with a great sense of relief, and led them to the city.

They were greeted at the gates with a mix of excitement and trepidation, which was apparently just how this culture reacted to tourists. The whole prophecy thing was kept hush-hush.

“You are beautiful, the two of you. We’ve waited so long.” The woman clasped them roughly on the shoulders and disappeared into a massive, gleaming skyscraper.

“Right-o,” Nardole said.

“I’m not ashamed to admit I have absolutely zero idea what’s happening,” the Doctor said. He shoved his sunglasses on, spinning around for a 360-degree scan.

“You probably are. Ashamed, I mean. Just a bit.”

“I’ve never even heard of this planet. And that’s rare, believe me. I’m assuming there’s a war, and the combination of technology and psychic woo is altogether too familiar, but the specifics…” He took the glasses off, and then immediately put them back on again. It was an awfully sunny day.

Nardole felt something push against his calves, and tried not to panic. Possibly he made a noise, but it was a reasonable, restrained one.

“You guys wanna party?” It was the dog from before.

“No,” the Doctor said distastefully.

“Absolutely yes,” Nardole said enthusiastically.

They turned away into a private huddle.

“Split up?”

“Makes sense.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“You realize,” Nardole said, savoring the moment right before being mildly but satisfyingly obnoxious. “That that means literally nothing at all?”

The Doctor made a rude gesture before hustling off after the woman. Not much of an athletic sort, that man. Not that Nardole could throw stones.

He turned back to the dog. “Let’s party hearty.”

They met up, afterwards, in a suitably public park. Nardole was possibly just a touch drunk, or high, or something. The Doctor looked excruciatingly sober.

“You find things?”

“I found things,” the Doctor confirmed. He frowned, like he was mad at himself for letting that phrase exit his mouth. “Did you - learn anything?”

“I took a pill and ate quite a lot of what I think was cake,” Nardole said. “Learn yes, learn relevant information: potentially no.”

A suitably public route to what was hopefully a somewhat more private penthouse suite. Nardole debated whether to take the Doctor’s hand, since they were apparently role-playing two people who would hold hands. The Doctor didn’t quite seem in the right place to be okay with physical contact, though, so he ultimately decided against it.

The elevator ride was mercifully swift. The Doctor jammed the keycard into the door like he meant it to hurt.

“I read the prophecies,” he said, trying to slam the automatic sliding door closed behind him. “They’re highly detailed. And I still can’t recall ever having heard about this planet but, oh, I can feel it. This place, this moment, us here now, it’s important.”

“D'you ever do anything that isn’t potentially universe-ending important?”

“Oh, shut it. Pay attention. You - ”

“Yes,” Nardole said, searching through his pockets for a handkerchief.

“Me.”

“Mmm,” Nardole grunted, and then blew his nose fiercely.

“Are meant to be in love,” the Doctor finished. Finger-quotes around ‘in love’. “In order for what’s meant to happen to happen.”

“Maybe it’s a platonic love,” Nardole said. He tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket and delicately removed his flower crown, setting it down on the kitchenette counter.

“The prophecies are highly detailed,” the Doctor said. He looked like he wanted to raise his eyebrows for emphasis but couldn’t quite muster the energy. He put his sunglasses on, to scan all the things that he could’ve just looked at normally if he wasn’t such a drama queen: a spacious, open-plan room with such highlights as ‘hopefully an electric kettle’ and ‘only one bed’.

“How detailed.”

“Explicitly so,” the Doctor replied tightly. He pulled a small grey rectangle out of his pocket and threw it in Nardole’s approximate direction.

Retrieved from the floor, with a disapproving look, the rectangle was a basic universal-standard (circa the 23rd century) data unit/entertainment provider/communicator/personal massage device. Nardole tapped on the icon labeled ‘PROPHECY’.

“It’s always up for interpretation,” Nardole said, scrolling down. “These things, there’s ambiguity and - oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh boy. Yeah. Wow. Okay. And you think this needs to happen, or 'happen’-” Finger-quotes. “In order for time and space to not become irrevocably fucked.”

“A significant chance, yes.” The Doctor stalked over to the kitchenette, attempting to make sense of the maybe-kettle.

Nardole turned the rectangle off, and put it on the counter, and considered those facts. Or guesses. Or whatever.

“We don’t actually have to do those things. You can find a way around it, surely. This is real life, not one of those novels you think I don’t notice you reading.” He wandered away from the Doctor’s increasingly angry water-boiling adventures, and dropped gracelessly onto the bed, bouncing up and down.

The Doctor unfurled his eyebrows, abandoned the maybe not-kettle, and began pacing. “Of course I’ll find a way. I always do. Always doing the heavy lifting while you sit around and - squeak.”

Nardole stopped bouncing. “I do other things. Important things.”

“Right. You make the tea, how awful of me to forget.”

“I offer excellent advice, whether you listen to it or not. And moral support. And companionship. And-”

The Doctor stopped pacing and glared.

“I’m a bit of a pin in the side of the hot-air balloon that is your ego and self-pity,” Nardole said. He pantomimed the pricking action, in case the Doctor needed a visual reference to understand the metaphor.

The Doctor was still glaring, but in a slightly kinder way now. “Sorry. Right. I’m - you’d make a fine husband, I’m sure.” He quirked an extremely half-hearted smile, and resumed pacing.

“I have, actually,” Nardole said, mostly to himself. “Three times. So there.”

Nipping the whole 'do we share a bed’ question in the bud, the Doctor elected to stand in the corner while thinking very hard and turning a lightbulb socket into a radio. Nardole slept alone, inexplicably disappointed.

The next morning, they met with the prophets, and some government people, and also some military people. Nardole wasn’t sure if he grabbed the Doctor’s hand for false Husband Evidence or to keep him from bristling overmuch. The Doctor’s hand was warm and slightly, mildly unpleasantly, moist. Still nice, though.

And it was also nice, if immediately afterwards a little concerning, when the Doctor called him 'sweetie’. He looked like he wished he could reverse-vomit that back down his throat. Understandable.

“Find a different word,” Nardole whispered, still clinging to the Doctor’s slippery hand. “For example. I like when you call me 'baby’.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes, but Nardole could tell his heart wasn’t in it. And he didn’t pull his hand away, either.

“This is the plan, by the way,” the Doctor yelled.

“You had that horrifying 'I have a plan’ look, so I figured this was it” Nardole yelled back.

Everything was just a bit on fire.

“If you have a better idea - ”

“No,” Nardole yelled, falling over an upturned desk. “No, this is fine.”

The TARDIS was not on fire and the TARDIS was uncharacteristically cool and it was home and safe and quiet.

“I can’t help but think that this would have been so much easier and less dangerous if you’d been willing to just kiss for a bit and fudge the rest,” Nardole said, patting out a small flame on his coat. Shame, he really loved this coat. Maybe the ship would be kind enough to shoot out a new one for him.

“I wasn’t willing?”

“Don’t pin this on me.” Nardole sent his ruined coat through the rubbish shoot, wishing it a fond farewell.

“You,” the Doctor said, and then stopped, like his brain hadn’t quite caught up with his mouth.

“Would have much rather done that than your catastrophe of a plan, yes.” Nardole paused, considered. “It’s more that I have an issue with being coerced to do things in front of people because the fabric of space/time is dissolving. In general, I think it’d be quite nice to kiss you, and additional activities. If you’re into that, I mean.”

The Doctor stared at him. “Okay,” he said. He rocked back and forth on his heels. “Right, okay.”

“Maybe later, that situation was a bit overwhelming and typically I prefer to take these things slowly.”

“Three times married, huh,” the Doctor said softly. He reached out and squeezed Nardole’s hand briefly before letting it drop. Louder: “I’ll go put the kettle on. Try not to break everything while I’m gone.”

Nardole closed his fist around the hopefully-just-sweat the Doctor had left on his skin. “I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do,” he said, and attempted a wink. It failed miserably but hopefully had the intended effect.

The Doctor made half a smile, like he wasn’t sure he should be doing it and in fact should probably shut it down as swiftly as possible, and wandered off towards where the kitchen might be.

Fourth time’s the charm. Nardole would make a good husband, fake or otherwise. He surreptitiously wiped his hand dry on his trousers and tried not to think too hard about it. Or him. Or them. Any of those.

[anteroom-of-death]

Life, For Dummies p4

a/n: any one out here wilding? i’m just vibing and writing comes when you ave zero braincells left...

Waking up was a struggle, you’d never slept that deeply or that well. The combination between a long, hot shower and Earth-shattering sex made it all too easy to sleep. You were so, so sore, but it was good. You admitted you hadn’t been fucked like that, heavens, at all if not for a long while. You looked at the large mirror across from your bed, lifting up your shirt. You had a few book-related bruises. 

Stretching and feeling out the fact that you obviously didn’t have your sea legs yet. Your knees and thighs were wobbling and weak.

Then you caught it in the reflection. The collar- your collar. You half- thought it was just a fever dream. But it was real, and it’s weight was light but suddenly very noticable. The ring pressed against your larynx, the bow at the back felt oddly graceful as you flexed your neck to get a better look. 

You finally allowed yourself to cry- this was what dreams were made of. (hey now, hey now!) You were exhausted already, you were happy. You felt light years away from where you were before the Master whisked you away. Hell, the last time you saw the Doctor seemed just a memory. 

So much had changed. You felt completely different. Yes, you had all your same traits, likes and dislikes. But a week with the Master? Chaotic, mind blowing, devastating, beautiful, enriching and most of all, beyond your wildest dreams and even your deepest darkest wishes.

You definitely were different. The collar around your throat and the bruises and sore, stiff muscles proved you were. Not only were you having a tea party with the Devil, but you were the Devil’s whore. 

It was wicked, and all too amazing. He treated you well for the most part. Very well. For only knowing you a week, he seemed to harbor no true ill will. 

You got dressed and wracked your brain, reconciling everything finally and putting thoughts in boxes where they needed to go. It was slow, but needed. And time really did not matter anymore. You splashed yourself with cold water from the sink and prepared yourself mentally for outside your solitary walls. You had no clue what was waiting outside and you needed to put yourself out of any more revieries that might pop up. You had a lot of thoughts, and a lot of places to add up. Obviously, pro and con lists were out of the questions these days.

You supposed if this was a standard exchange of power, that rules and limits would be in place, but there was already the imbalance of aliens with knowledge of all of history, time travel, and space. Humans were simpler and had an equal footing. Therefore it was always up for debate.

You were halfway through finishing your daily SPF and thought about what if’s. Where was this all going? You couldn’t ask, obviously. He made it all up as he went along as much, if not more than the Doctor.

Poor Doctor, you allowed yourself to think, picks you up from your mundane routine only for you to better fit in with her best enemy. 

Her loss, his gain.

Things added up, morals and ethics wise. The Doctor could be just as callous and just as insane, yet hid behind the greater good. She was a spoonful of sugar whereas he was castor oil. Twin sides of a coin…

You shook yourself from these thoughts. Too much to process in one morning for you, especially without caffeine to mainline. 

You finished up and made your way out after stretching and taking a few excedrin you found rattling around the medicine chest. This TARDIS was incredibly intuitive and even materialised all your usual products you used. Or maybe the Master read your mind and supplied them. Either way, it was a big help…

You made your way out and sat down to an already piping hot mug of coffee and a tinkering Master. Your heart and stomach gave a flutter. You rolled your eyes at your over-eagerness.

“You’re finally up, I was worried that I’d have to physically go in there…”

You sloshed into yourself, “How long was I actually asleep?”

“19 hours. I think that qualifies as a coma with you humans.” 

“I obviously needed to sleep.” You talked into your coffee mug. It tasted good. Strong, a little crunchy, very much the perfect cup you didn’t have to add anything to.

“Mmn, you made this?” You asked, pointing to the mug held loft in your hand.

“Of course, I know how to make coffee, spent years on the Outback of Australia, I got bored, I know how to be perfect at everything…”

“Yeah, sure, perfect at everything.” You rolled eyes again, this time at him. 

“I am the Master.”

“Alright, alright.” You gave a concessional hand. You stared into your coffee and contemplated breakfast. You weren’t usually a big fan of eating in the morning, but all things considered you scraped yourself away from the coffee and started looking through the cupboards to see if anything was appealing to you in the moment. Nothing seemed terribly tasty so you just grabbed a bowl of random cereal and some sort of liquid you assumed was oat milk by the scent. 

You felt his eyes studying your back the entire time, you didn’t know if it was in an observational manner or just perversely taking a peek at your backside. 

“You like the show?” You demanded jokingly. 

“Of course, pet…” He leaned back and placed the device he had down. It was a long silver and gold rod with three prongs at the tip. “I see my pretty little pet has found her pretty little treat.” He went over and flipped a strand of your hair and fingered the collar at your neck before stroking at your sternum. He smiled down and flexed his lips open. The lighting made his teeth glitter dangerously. 

The dim lighting really brought out a beautiful tone to his lips. You tried to return to your cereal, but you pecked him on the cheek and steered yourself to a seated position. Temptation could take a temporary back burner. You had to get some semblance of nutrition into you.

He joined you at the table. 

“I was thinking of a few ideas, but I wanted your input.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really, I can more than enough make my own choices, but to spice it up, why not get some feedback? What chaos shall be wrought today?” He bent over the table, disregarding the personal space needed to eat a bowl of cereal and let actual brain-processing happen. 

“What all did you have in mind?” You scooted back infinitesimally and tried to finish breakfast quickly. 

He quickly pointed to some post-it notes, “Here’s the name of an intergalactic crime boss who owes me a few favors, figured we could go and rough him up until he squeals, giving me the powerful weaponry we all know he has. Or, here’s a plan to visit a certain set of pepper pots and make some deals that most definitely will backfire, but it would be great fun to see them get frustrated and deny the fact that they can get frustrated. Or I was thinking of visiting Earth and teasing Torchwood and UNIT around early 2000’s Cardiff, you know, for funsies. Oh! What if we went back to Raxacoricofallapatorius and destroyed their nursery?” He was spinning around and fluttering between notebooks and sketches including one where he was strangling a person in an army uniform and a handlebar moustache. 

“Jesus, how fast does your brain go?” You massage your temples…

“Too much? Huh? What would you suggest then?” He pouted, placing a hand at his hip and jutting it out.

“Why don’t we just start slow and nothing Earthly? Crime boss seem good? Simple even…” You slurped the milk off the spoon, “But lemme finish Breakfast first!” Pointing it at him, “Slow your roll. Savor the day. Do you Time Lords even sleep?”

“Rarely.” 

“Wow, that explains so much.”

He querched an eyebrow, “And what would that be, love?” The love felt oddly formal, not like being called a pet. 

“I’ve only met two of you, mind, so I might be generalizing...but the high energy. Like... “ You pressed your fingertips together, “Napping? Don’t you enjoy finding a good place to sleep during the day and just sleeping and enjoying the restfulness and sensations of the sun through a window and maybe a breeze if you open it a bit.”

“No, I’d love to try it, sounds pleasurable…”

“And you said that you were the Master of Everything.” You false-scandalized then laughed, cupping his face and smiling at him. It was great. He really made you laugh in one of those cheesy, stupid ways.

“I could punish you for talking down to your Owner…” He teased right back.

“Oooh...dirty.” You gave a salacious wink.

You could feel the “You have no idea…” radiating from his pores.

“Come along, my pet…” He pulled you from the table and over to the console, “We got a crime boss to torture…”

He punched in the coordinates and grabbed his jacket, then pulled you out the door…

You were toasting your success in the newly acquired weapons-room that now belonged to, as he poured you a little more champagne. 

You oddly enjoyed helping torturing the poor sap. He squirmed and you enjoyed him blanching from pain. 

The machine you saw him working on was a laser screw-driver? And he gave it to you as he was attaching some high tech hand-cuffs to the man. He told you that the controls were intuitive and to “give it a whirl...see how that grabs you…” Watching the gross little green man scream and shake around, flushing and pleading- felt good. Felt powerful. It brought you a tingle of pleasure and you could see why the Master was fond of it. The device felt good in your hand and after the second whorl of your wrist, it felt like a natural extension. It felt right to hold it in your hand and be able to grasp such power. 

A bit of sadism? Then champagne? And the thrill of a steal? All felt like an adrenaline rush.

What were you becoming?

A shred of our conscience echoed about the fact that you, obviously, had to kill him, something the Master allowed you to turn into him and avert your eyes as he shrunk his body and flicked it into a drainage gate. He knew your limits and didn’t go past what he knew you could currently take. You grimaced a bit as you heard a tiny clink. That was a tad harsh. 

All in all, a busy day... 

He was busy cataloging and cooing at all the tech he had access to his as he put it “fun, evil plans”...

It was hilarious and so endearing to watch. He was like a kid in a candy shop. Soft, feral, incorrigible. 

You determined that a small nap whilst tipsy and moonstruck was a great gift to yourself. You felt the collar and played idly with the diamond heart until you blacked out. 

You woke up to him watching you. “One of those fabulous little naps you talked of?” He stroked your thigh and massaged the fabric of your shorts. You pulled yourself up and propped yourself up on your elbows and coyly smiled, “Care to join me?” You winked, “Take a walk on the wild side. It’s a real treat. After that...who knows?” You teased him. 

He considered it and then loosened the buttons, and took off his jacket before laying it down and rolling up his sleeves. He laid down and you offered him to slide up to you. He obliged stiffly but soonly gave in. You spotted his chest hair and stared at it for a moment. You then acted, you traced it, mildly twirling your finger in its mass, he shuddered and then left you to continue. You laid down your head on his chest and felt his hearts pounding between two different beats. 

He murmured, “Keep the screwdriver. A little gift. From me to you…” You felt his hearts hitch a bit.

Sighing, you told him, “Relax." You let out a sleepy little moan. You embraced the warmth of his body and soothing echoing in his chest like a whitenoise machine. "You're doing excellent.." The Master eased up and you felt yourself ease up and drift off. You dreamt of falling through water and waves and the scent of fires and musk. You could feel a pair of eyes watching you, but they felt nonjudgmental, just guiding you deeper down. Deeper under the spell of sleep and total darkness.