#then turning around and making deep posts about how awful i felt about my life

[orcelito]

angst digging turned into genuine enjoyment of seeing the kind of kid i was back then. hyperactive, dramatic, funny... and also so achingly sad. there’s a special kind of melancholy that comes from seeing a kid being very goofy then in the next breath genuinely fantasizing about being struck by lightning. it makes my heart ache for the lost joy of the time. 

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Rosie's advice - human!Alastor x human!fem!reader

MATURE CONTENT AHEAD! MINORS DNI! Hello! I was supposed to post something else today, but my brain decided not to cooperate, so I ended up writing this little one-shot instead. I hope you enjoy it! ❤️ Words: ~2300 TW: oral (male receiving), phone sex, vaginal sex

You were a bit mad at your husband for the loneliness you went through in the past few days. Yes, he worked hard to give you a more than decent life. Yes, you were more than grateful for it. But good God, it was awful to have to spend most of your days alone. He was always away, doing God knows what, while all you could do was wait for him like the good wife that you were.

But you had a little something planned for him. And goodness, it felt good seeing his slightly flushed face as he entered the door, seeing you wearing nothing but a cute, little apron, cooking his favourite food. It felt good when you made your way to him, kissing his cheek, as you acted, oh, so innocent.

It felt good having his hands around your waist, as his lips brushed against your soft hands, placing small little kisses on them. But there was something that felt even better - the sweet revenge.

"Sorry, dear... Rosie is waiting for me." you had said, making your way past him, slightly brushing against his body. "I hope you'll enjoy the jambalaya. Found an old recipe book of your mom's among your stuff." you had said, eyeing him from time to time just to see his reaction, hoping that this way, maybe, just maybe, he'll get a taste of what you went through in the past days.

But there was something you didn't take into account when you thought about this little, innocent plan - that when your husband wants something, he's gonna have it.

So, that's how you ended up on your knees,your arms tied behind your back with his tie, while his hand harshly gripped your hair, making you take more and more of him with every move of your head.

"That was quite a show you put on, my dear," he said, his voice low and seductive. "If you needed attention, you should've just asked, you know?" You hummed in response, trying your best to breathe while his cock was so deep down your throat. "Here I was, concerned about my little dove, even considering taking you on a vacation because you must be exhausted from all the work you do around the house..." He shook his head slightly. "Turns out I was wrong since you clearly had plenty of time to plan this little... performance of yours."

He pulled away from your mouth, gently wiping the spit from your chin with his finger. "It's not my fault you're barely home anymore," you protested a hint of sadness in your voice.

"I'm barely home because I'm working to give you a good life, my dear," he replied, his tone a bit sharper than usual. "You know how many hours I've been putting in for us, and then you have the audacity to pull this stunt when I finally get some time off?"

You looked away, a bit ashamed. "I'm sorry... I just... I really miss you, Alastor..."

"And you thought the best way to show that was by giving me a hard time the moment I walked through the door, huh?" He huffs. "I'm not against a bit of playfulness here and there but this..." His grip on your hair tightened slightly, his smirk still plastered on his face. "This was just downright rude, darling. You can be quite the naughty little girl when you want to, you know that?"

He grabbed your arm, yanking you back to your feet before roughly pushing you onto the couch, forcing you onto your stomach. You felt the couch sink as he placed one knee on it, looming over you. He tapped the phone on the small table beside the couch, as his other hand untied your arms. "You'll be late to meet Rosie. It would be rude not to announce her, right?"

You knew he had an idea in mind, your heart racing at just the thought of what it could be. He turned the rotary dial, the clicks echoing in the quiet room, then handed you the heavy receiver, its weight settling in your hand as the faint hum of the line buzzing in your ear.

Your heart sank when you felt his tip slightly brushing past your folds, his smirk radiating on you.

"Now, I wouldn't suggest being too loud or else she might start wondering what's going on." Alastor leaned down, his lips close to your ear. "You understand?"

You nodded, hoping that Rosie wouldn't answer. Not now. Not when you were in such a position, his tip moving between your wet folds, teasing your entrance.

"Hello?"

Shit.

You felt him enter you roughly the moment her voice echoed through the phone, almost biting your tongue in an attempt to be silent.

"He... Hello, Rosie..." you managed to say, his cock painfully moving in and out of you at a slow, torturous pace.

"Why, hello, (Y/n)! Did something happen, my dear?" she asked, her voice as joyous as ever.

You paused for a moment, trying to catch your breath as your walls ached at the feeling of his cock dragging across them, his hand slowly caressing your back.

Alastor chuckled as he leaned into the phone, "Hello, my dear Rosie! It's Alastor. Something came up, and I'm so, so sorry but my lovely (y/n) can't make it tonight." He took the phone from your hands, placing it to his ear as his thrusts became slightly harder. You bit your hand trying to keep away the moans that threatened to come out. It felt so good to finally feel him like this again, but you felt ashamed of how much the whole situation turned you on.

Alastor raised an eyebrow as he heard Rosie chuckling on the other end. "I see... I take that my advice for (y/n) worked then." His movements slowed for a moment, everything making sense now.

"I should've known she'd come to you for advice..." he chuckled, glancing down at you, lightly running his hand on your skin, shivers running down your spine with every movement.

"It's a shame, really. I was rather looking forward to a lovely chat with (Y/N) this evening.." she said playfully. "But tell her I'd really appreciate it if she'd join me tomorrow for coffee... If you two don't plan anything fancy, of course!"

Alastor smirked. "Oh, that won't do, my dear friend. I plan on taking her somewhere nice. Gotta spoil my lovely wife for all the hard work she does around the house, right?" He said as he pulled out almost completely, his tip slightly moving in and out of you slowly.

"Oh? And where are you taking her, might I ask?" she asked, curious. "It's not the new Italian place across from the bank, is it? They've got quite a good reputation I hear, even though it's just recently opened..."

You started growing impatient, your insides begging for that sweet friction again. You looked back at him, a frown on your face, as you harshly pushed your hips back into his, moaning softly as his length entered you again. His hand harshly gripped your soft skin at the sudden gesture, a hint of surprise on his face.

Alastor leaned a bit lower, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled slightly, still fully inside of you. "The food is great, though the place is quite noisy," he answered back to the question as he pushed your upper half down against the cushions.

He gave a harsh thrust, that made you whimper, burying your face into the couch. "Can't really focus on your conversation with all the people yammering in the background."

Another one.

"We might try it sometime, though."

And another one.

"But I have bigger plans for the evening." He said, his voice slightly breathless from his movements. He chuckled as he heard Rosie laughing from the other end of the line. The inside of your cheek hurt on how hard you bit it, trying to be silent.

"That's what I've heard as well. Well, then, I am looking forward to seeing you two as soon as possible."

"Thank you for understanding, my dear friend," he replied, his eyes never leaving you. "We look forward to seeing you too. I'm sure (Y/n) would be happy to have lunch with you sometime soon as well." He placed the receiver back on the cradle.

He moved at a much rougher pace now, whimpers and moans escaping your mouth with every harsh thrust. He leaned down, his mouth close to your ear. "Seems like Rosie already knew what you had planned today, my dear. You complained to her about how neglected you are, didn't you?"

His hand travelled from your hair lower on your body, gripping your waist. "And let me guess, she's also the one who gave you the little idea you had today, right?"

"Yes..." you managed to say as his hips roughly met yours, the sound of skin against skin filling the room as he rammed into your heat, your juices gushing around his cock.

"Of course she did," he said with a smirk. "Seems like her little plan didn't quite work, though, love." He placed a few kisses on the back of your neck. "You're not having the upper hand here, darling."

"Fuck~ I'm sorry!" you said, his thrusts sending shivers through your entire body.

"I know you are, my dear," he said, giving your ear a light kiss. "But I'm still not happy about this little stunt you pulled on me. I think you'll have to work really, really hard to get back to my good side tonight."

You looked at him, slightly smirking. "Oh... it would be my pleasure, love..."

Alastor chuckled. He paused for a moment, his movements slowing down. "But first, I think I want to have a little change of scenery, hmm?"

He pulled out and flipped you over, throwing one of your legs on his shoulder as he entered you again, both groaning in unison. He placed a soft kiss on the ankle he was holding before he continued, his pace gradually picking up again. "Oh, love, the things you do to me."

He pressed down on your lower abdomen while his other hand roughly rubbed your clit, each movement bringing you closer to the edge of orgasm. As you looked at him, the sight almost made you cry, overwhelmed by emotion. He looked almost divine, his usually neat appearance now dishevelled, his chest gleaming through the slightly unbuttoned shirt. He looked at you so hungry, groaning with every thrust, a few strands of hair gracefully falling on his forehead.

"I missed you so much, Al..." you said in between moans.

Alastor's movements became slightly faster, a moan escaping his lips. "And I missed you, love," he said, panting softly. "I missed you so much I could barely think straight half the time."

Your body spasmed with pleasure as you orgasmed, your leg slipping from his shoulder to wrap around his waist, drawing him in closer. His chest pressed against yours as he leaned down, his movements becoming more urgent. He placed a few kisses on your neck, the feeling of his hot breath on your skin only adding to your pleasure. “My lovely little wife...” he whispered, kissing you desperately as powerful thrusts dragged across your velvet walls, the waves of pleasure electrifying through your body.

His head hung low by your shoulder, the sounds of your moans and his gasps filling the air. "You're driving me insane, love,” he said, his voice wavering. “God, how did I live without you these past few days?”

You cupped his face, your eyes locking as he desperately chased his own climax and with a few powerful thrusts, he reached his peak, grunting as he filled you.

His body slightly trembled above you, his breath laboured. He rested his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath. "God, you're going to be the death of me," he muttered, his voice low. "Only you can get me so riled up this quickly."

You smiled, placing a soft kiss on his lips and hugging him tightly. "I love you so much, Al..." you said, your eyes getting teary as emotions rushed in, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all those sensations.

He snuggled closer to you, his arms encircling you in a tight embrace. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. "I love you too, my dear," he said, stroking your hair softly. "More than anything in this whole, damn world."

You stood like this for a few moments, catching your breaths. You looked back at him, a devilish smirk on your face. "Did you say you have big plans for us tomorrow?"

Alastor raised an eyebrow, a small, amused smile appearing on his face. "I did, indeed," he replied his hand tracing patterns on your skin.

You leaned in closer, brushing your nose against his. "You know... I could use a nice, new dress for an occasion so special, don't you think?"

Alastor's smile widened, his hand moving to trace your jawline. "How convenient," he said, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "I was actually thinking the same thing. A new dress or two would look lovely on you, darling. A way for me to apologise for my... absence."

You chuckled. "See? We always think alike... That's why I married you." He gently grabbed your chin with his fingers, pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

"Now... I remember you said something about jambalaya, right?"

Tags: @ratsematary @littlebluefishtail @n0tmentallystable

[baeddel]

my 1st year of hrt

i don't post here much now, but as i have shared so much of my journey with you, for so much of which i wasn't able to transition at all, i wanted to make a post about my first year on hormones.

this post will be nsfw because of frank discussion about genitals, sexual functions and sexuality. it's also long, sorry.

ORAL, INJECTIONS

i have the entire time merely done what the diy wiki told me. between the time that i first looked into it, with the sort of long and helpful advices i received from friends, up to now, the whole thing has become much more well-understood and by that measure much easier to transmit and there are more plentiful resources. so it is really easy to diy. it's also much easier to get hormones and blockers and many more kinds are available.

i started off on 50mg bica and 6mg oral estradiol. i knew i wanted to use bica becuase it's supposed to keep your horny. a major hesitation for me was losing my libido, since being an extremely high libido person has been such a core part of my identity for pretty much my entire life. it turns out i had no reason to be afriad for reasons i'll explain later, but in the end i'm not sure how much of a role the bica played in that.

the chepaest place was actually from Lillian at the time we bought it. this regimen worked out to an amount per year that i don't really have and my first year was paid for entirely by my incredible and wonderful and amazing girlfriend @shimakaze-revivalism which i am so thankful for. it worked out the best to go for oral at that time but i had no preference for it over injections; gel seemed annoying to me.

to be honest i don't really recommend all that because it's basically ten times as expensive as monotherapy with injections. good golly! i didn't realize injections were so cheap until another girlfriend pointed it out to me around the time that i was due to refill. plus, not only am i used to injecting because of diabetes, but i like needles. since starting i have fallen in love with this method; i look forward to injection day and delight and savour in the entire process. i inject intramuscularly in my thighs with a 1" needle. the needle presses my skin into a deep valley before finally piercing through at which point my thigh snaps level and swallows the needle. i salivate a little bit when i do it. it hurts for a few days wherever the needle went, sweetly. if i'm too rough it bruises. my girlfriend is frightened of neeldes and i make her watch. i take 0.1ml at 10ml/400mg which according to Transfem Science (click) is equivalent to 8mg per day of estradiol orally, a little more than i took before. i stopped taking bica so i am on estradiol monotherapy.

because Lillian had issues right around the time of my order it was delayed by a bit and i went without hormones for a little while. this was utterly miserable and felt physically awful. i'll talk about it a bit more later. then my wonderful girlfriend lent me hers after we worked some things out so that she wouldn't also be left short. so for about a week or two i was taking 4mg estradiol and some amount of finasteride; this regimen felt bad and i struggled to stay hard or cum until i changed to something else. the phenomenally sweet and kind @hypnosister was bringing some estradiol gel for me to tide me over the rest of the way (—the second time she has given me hormones to cover for my errors), but my estradiol miraculously arrived the exact same day she did, so i never used any gel.

as you can tell, the principle ingredient in my hrt regimen has been the milk of human kindness. i owe an unpayable debt of gratitude. hopefully i can be more competent and independent in the future.

BLOOD TESTS

my plan was to get tested every 4~ months and monitor my blood.

there is a private blood test service you can get here in NI. they send out a little kit and you make a sample and send it back. supposedly. so far i have not known anyone to succeed. strangely, they don't allow refunds until you've tried it three times. for me i quickly realized my problem was that i have to use a lancet to draw blood several times a day to monitor my blood sugars, which means my fingers are scarred and calloused around there already and i'd never be able to draw enough blood as the test wanted. the last test i simply sent back undisturbed; they gave me my refund.

you can instead book an appointment with private clinics they work with and they will draw blood intravenously. however, at the time, agoraphobia would have made this a profoundly difficult journey, and i started off transitioning in secret and couldn't ask anyone for help getting there. so in the end i haven't been getting blood tested at all and don't really know what my hormones are and don't know how my liver is doing. this isn't ideal, but things are starting to change for me; i am now out at home, and what's more, i have started to beat my agoraphobia (!) and can get about now on public transport on my own. so i will go in a few months to monitor how my injections are doing.

SIDE EFFECTS

when i first started i was extremely nauseous. this went away after a month or so. after that there were simply no negative side-effects.

going off of hormones felt bad, but it was as bad as i felt before going on hormones. being on hormones simply feels much better; i'll talk more about that later.

LIBIDO, BONERS AND CUM

as i mentioned this was my biggest hesitation before starting. my libido had always been so high as to be debilitatingly intense. i would masturbate several times a day. if i hadn't masturbated recently i would be unable to concentrate; i would be so horny i'd get dizzy, feel faint... something in me had to be ceaselessly arrested, cooled, soothed and put away, shortly to lift its hatch and claw at me again. in a lot of ways it was really a big problem in my life and looking back it wasn't a good thing. but it was who i was and i was scared of losing it. it also seemed like an important component of maintaining a lot of sexual relationships. or was it the special solvent that held all my work together? a manic energy. without which i would become slovely and pointless.

erections are also of course an important part of performing in the way i was used to; and i could cum a lot. like, a lot. thick, goopy, white cum. which girls like. because i am not attractive in any other measure, giving up this source of puissance felt like giving up everything. so it was really frightening to me to be honest. these are all ways that the idea of a loss of libido or sexual function felt like the end of myself as a person.

this is i understand probably a distorted source of self-worth, but, in any case, hormones did not in fact oblige me to give it up, and i worried for nothing. hormones drastically improved my sexuality in every single respect. first of all, it did hurt my libido, but only so much as to take the edge off. it let me master it; and having mastered it, i was able to do things i could never do before in my life, like chastity games, and everyday life wasn't so painful, and i had more freedom about how i spent my time, since i didn't have to masturbate before anything that took concentration. but i'm still a very high libido person; what's more it made me much more engaged with sex with partners rather than masturbating.

there was a brief period of time close to the beginning where it did affect my erections, i believe, but this passed and i now have erections like normal. neither my penis or scrotum changed size or appearance. and thankfully my loads did not diminish at all; though on bica it was a little more translucent and less goopy white, it seems to be back to normal on monotherapy. it takes several minutes to clean up after.

but here's the thing; on hrt, my sexuality improved in ways i didn't even anticipate. these are: 1. every sensation feels so much better, to such an extent that sensations seem to take on a profound meaning. it is especially lovely to use the soft parts of a girl's thighs. 2. orgasms are completely different. not just a quantitative but a qualitative difference. they make me shiver, they last forever, my toes curl as i gasp and perspire. afterwards i am submerged in bliss; wheezing asthmatically, sticky or soaking wet. 3. when not having sex, i mostly cum handsfree, neither using my hands nor any implement, or any special technique but to look at something or think of something or talk to someone. either naked or under my clothes. i could do this before but it took more effort. 4. when having sex, i cum much, much faster, which is a really good change for me, because performing was always a source of anxiety, and now i have no problem with that, unless i'm having blood sugar problems which can't be helped.

i understand that most people don't have my experiences when they start hrt. although for most people sex feels better and orgasms feel better, most people cum less and have more problems performing after hrt rather than the opposite.

in the few weeks that i went off hrt i went pretty much back to normal, and it felt awful. i went back to masturbating several times a day, became less interested in having sex, and derived much less enjoyment from masturbation which was little more than habitual. i could still cum handsfree but mostly i didn't. by comparison it all simply felt bad. at this point i would take estrogen merely as an aphrodisiac.

BOOBS

i have little boobs. if it really is accurate to talk about transfem bodies this way, then i think i am in Tanner Stage 3. i don't really care about having boobs so i don't really think about it. mainly i felt A LOT BETTER about my body after i started removing my chest hair, no matter what my chest looks like.

early on in transition i asked you all if my boobs would stop being sore. some of you said no. well listen up fuckers, you were dead wrong! after three or four months they stopped hurting entirely. but then afer i started injections they began to hurt again, and now they still hurt. maybe they'll just hurt every August, no matter what i do.

WEIGHT GAIN, FAT DISTRIBUTION

i literally weigh 50 pounds more than at the start of 2023. however, 30 of those pounds i put on before even starting hrt. so i think it's a coincidence; regression to the mean. in the past i constnatly lost weight mysteriously, now i am quickly gaining it. i'm a little worried about it really, but i feel a little better about myself with chubbier cheeks as well.

i have definitely gained more of an hourglass shape now that i didn't have before. but i still think my body is very ugly and i'm ashamed of it. looking more feminine doesn't mean looking or feeling any more attractive necessarily and you have more body image issues than gender dysphoria. it's necessary to consider them a little separately. to be honest, i have no idea what i wanted hrt to do to my body. no matter what outward physical change i consider i will say 'that's some accidental change and is not the reason i'm on hormones, so i don't really care about it.' then why transition?

HRT AS WILL

this is to me the most fascinating change and the one i could anticipate the least; hrt completely changes my fundmanetal first-person experience of reality. i have no idea how to describe it; surely any words are inaccurate metaphors which cannot possibly denote anything to you if you haven't felt it. i simply feel that, before hrt, i was out of alignment, and that when i am on hrt, my alignment has been restored, and i have achieved some kind of invisible perfection. every waking moment feels so much better, and stopping hrt made me feel awful for that reason only. i knew what it was like to be on it. Tiresias.

this is the biggest thing for me; even if hrt did absolutely nothing else i would take it for this reason alone. not only that, but i would still regard it as deeply important, fulfilling some deep need. i would pay a high price for it.

do you know what i mean? what is this?

oh god... have you felt this? it's rather... rapturous... ah haha...

it means that i'm chosen...

maybe i have eyes on the inside. if you kill me you'll get a Caryll Rune: Clockwise Metamorphosis.

when i think about other things to add to my transition progress, such as progesterone, this is the primary lens that i look at it through. how would this change my inner experience? what effect would it have on me at the level of pure feeling? i don't really care what it would do to my body. what new chamber of the soul is unlocked thereby?

PERIODS

i was promised that i would get periods when i started hrt. this seems to have been a myth. if i want periods i suppose i would have to actually vary my own hormones throughout the month. in the past i actually had a pretty intense dysphoria about not getting periods, and the idea that i'd get them one day was very relieving to me. thankfully i don't really care about that anymore; all of my desires orient themselves with reference to transfems, so not having periods doesn't create any kind of distance between myself and my peers.

CONCLUSION

anyway, transition is going extremely well in my estimation. there are other aspects of transition than just hrt; gender-affirming clothes, laser (cheap here), optionally voice training and such. i think for some people a year is kind of a long time, but i tend to have a long-term view. it's something healthy but it also makes me slow to act. in any case i still see myself as just starting, and i will get to other things soon enough. i like changing. i like doing things that change me. you have to resist the temptation to see every possible avenue of transition as a form of assimilation to cisnormativity. we have a culture; we do certain things that change us, sometimes forever and sometimes for now.

thanks for reading.

[f1nalboys]

Hey... Ya know what would be cool or whatever?

*Gently kicks rock with my hands in my pockets trying not to show how much I crave this*

If you'd make The Creature!Randy as a short story au yearning for Reader/Lisa... I don't know I think it be neat...Just saying.

spooky ur a GENIUS!!!!! have not stopped thinking abt this since i watched the movie and <3333333 randy is the perfect undead husband i fear to say!!! this is a little short and really just focuses on the beginning of everything, but i hope its enjoyable nonetheless!!!!

From The Grave - Randy Meeks

The Creature!Randy Meeks x GN!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1025

WARNINGS: post death randy, the briefest description of corpse randy, mention of roadkill, nothing too graphic tho <3, reader is around randys age when he died but no specifc age is said, inspired by lisa frankenstein <3

His grave was tucked underneath a large willow tree, the branches hanging low and wide, hiding his lone headstone. You discovered it a few months ago on a warm spring afternoon as you carefully made your way through the abandoned graveyard in Woodsboro, stepping over gnarled roots and vines. The headstone was cracked, covered in moss and dirt, but you could just barely make out some of the writing on it as you got closer, your hand swinging by your side as the leaves of the tree shaded you from the sun.

“Randy Meeks. 1978-1997.” 

He was young, like you. Alone, too, if the state of his grave was any indication. Despite passing the other graves, all in similar states of disrepair, something about this one stood out to you. Maybe it was the fact you knew nothing of him; other headstones told you that buried deep in the ground was a husband, a wife, a child, but here there was nothing. Or, maybe, it was the fact that he was of similar age to you and was hidden away like you so often felt. 

Regardless, you spent the next hour carefully scraping the moss off of the stone with your finger and, when the grime became too hard to simply push off, with your pen. You didn’t have any water or soap and as you stand, wiping your hands off onto your jeans with a pleased smile at the progress, you resolve to come back tomorrow and finish cleaning it up. Sure, no one ever came through here, and the grass was as high as your knees in some parts of the cemetery, and you swore when you turned your back to his grave you could feel someone staring at you, but you were going to finish your job here. 

And so you did. The next day, bright and early, you clean up Randy Meeks’s headstone until it sparkles in the sunlight that broke through the gaps of the leaves. But then you come back the next day, and the next, and the next. For weeks, whenever you have the chance to, you make your way through the rusted iron fence and through the thick grass to him. 

Always to him.

You eventually wear down a path to his grave, the grass around the headstone itself squashed down from your constant pacing as you talk out loud. Talking helped clear your mind, and despite no response, you felt more seen and understood by him than you ever had before. You sometimes caught yourself pausing after a sentence as if waiting for a response and everytime you swore the wind would pick up and the leaves above you would rustle his answer.

Each time you left the cemetery, you’d write off whatever you felt in the moment and resign yourself back to your lonely existence. 

And then the strange storm happened. Dark, green, swirling clouds loomed in the sky above you, but they couldn't deter you. You made your way to the cemetery, rested your head on his gravestone, fingers tracing the etching of his name, and cried. Your whispers came out quick and harsh, cut off with random gulps of air, as you told him how you just wished you and he could be together. How your life was awful, how all you wanted was to be seen and loved and be treated how you knew he would treat you. 

You wanted to join him in death since he couldn't join you in life.

There was a crack of thunder, a flash of light, and when your eyes opened you were back home. You shake it off, sure you made your way home on auto-pilot. As you stumble through your routine to get ready for bed, you pause at the sound of a groan outside. Just as you turn your head to investigate, your front window shatters and a foul smell reminiscent of the decomposing fox on the side of the road you pass by everyday wafts in. Your hand covers your mouth and nose to stop from hurling just as he crawls through your window. 

After a few laps around your house, you sit across from him in your bedroom, staring at him wearily. “Who are you?” Is the only thing you can think to ask, though it doesn’t result in much. The man keeps grunting, getting increasingly more frustrated at your lack of understanding. He’s caked in mud and god knows what else, his eyes a bright blue. He can’t talk and you can’t understand him, but you swear you know him from somewhere. You run through the list of men you know, name after name, but he shakes his head after each one, his fingers drumming on his bent knee.

Eventually you stand and give him a notebook and a pen, hoping he can write. You watch as he takes it, his eyes focused on the paper in front of him, his tongue poking out from his lips as he concentrates. Finally, he looks up and meets your eye, an intensity in them you hadn't seen before. You take the notebook and look down, gasping quietly as you read the name.

“Randy?” You ask, eyes widening slightly as you look back towards him. He nods. “My Randy? From the graveyard?” Another nod and the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen him make yet. None of it makes sense. You knew that the real Randy Meeks had been dead for years but here he was in front of you. “Could you hear me? When I spoke to you?”

He nods his head once again, reaching his large hand out for yours. You grimace slightly at the feeling of the mud and viscera on his skin but you don't pull away. Instead, you watch with a morbid curiosity as he brings your hand to his undead lips, pressing them against your hand. Your hand tingles, a lightning bolt crawling up your arm. 

It was him. He was here for you. Somehow, someway, he clawed his way out of death to find you. 

It was the most romantic thing you could think of.

[bratzforchris]

Flare Ups

❃

Summary: Role reversal of my fic "Sick Days"

Pairing: Luke x feminine reader

Warnings: Minor depression over chronic illness

Word Count: 1661

A/N: This was requested by the beautiful @blinkinglightsandmusic <3. Thank you for the idea, angel! Also, if you'd like to learn more about PFAPA (the chronic illness described in this fic), my previous post linked above has a link to learn more :)

❃

You woke up and immediately groaned, cuddling closer into Luke’s side while trying to fight tears. Your throat was sore, your joints were aching, and you could tell that you were running a pretty high fever based on how cold you were. Chronic illness was probably the worst thing in your life. It zapped so much of your energy, basically binding you to your bed or the couch for days. 

Luke rolled over, feeling the way you were shaking against him. He blinked the sleep out of his blue eyes and looked at you. “Baby? You okay, my love?” 

He knew you probably weren’t, but it was a good way for him to understand where your mind was at. Having been with you for nearly four years, Luke was pretty well-versed in taking care of you during your flare ups. They were just regular enough that he could track them and know when one was coming. 

“Flare up.” You sniffled, pulling your snuggly blanket up to your chin. 

“Oh, princess,” he cooed softly, laying his cheek against your forehead to check your fever. “You’re burning up, darlin’. Let’s check your temperature.”

Luke moved to pull the thermometer out of your nightstand while you watched him with teary eyes. If you didn’t feel so awful, you’d probably find him acting all nurselike while shirtless hot, but you just felt so miserable. Luke ran his hand across your cheek as he stuck the metal device under your tongue, which made you whine from the cold. His touch was gentle as he lovingly

gave you a small massage while waiting to check your temperature.

“103.2,” the blond said softly when the device beeped. “That’s high, honey.”

“It hurts.” You said, a tear sneaking down your cheek. 

“Do ya wanna take some Tylenol?” he asked you, yawning. “Know it usually doesn’t work, but it’s worth a try.” Luke pulled you into him, sleepily snuggling into you. 

Your fevers always made you emotional, and seeing how tired Luke still was made you sob. “I’m sorry.” You cried. 

“Lovely,” the blond pouted sadly, rubbing your tummy as he spooned you. “What are you sorry for, princess?”

“You’re still tired and you’re having to take care of me!” You wailed. 

“Sweetheart,” Luke said gently. “I’m not having to take care of you. I want to because I love you.”

You rolled over, sobbing into Luke’s chest. Your boyfriend just gently rubbed your back, knowing that you were sick and emotional, instead of actually sad. He carded his fingers through your hair, whispering comforting little words to you. You sobbed until you gagged and Luke slowly sat you up, rubbing your back. 

“Sweet girl, I need you to take some deep breaths, pumpkin. Don’t want you to make yourself sick, honey.” he said firmly, but not unkindly. 

You gulped in a few breaths of air, still crying, but they had slowly turned to hiccups instead of sobs. Luke continued to rub your back, pulling a hair band off his wrist to tie your hair up into a messy, low bun. 

“Good girl,” he smiled, knowing praise always helped you feel better. “Is that better?” he asked, rubbing your knees softly. 

Luke knew how much your fevers made your joints ache, but especially your knees, and he would do absolutely anything to make you feel better. You nodded a thank you, wrapping your arms around his neck shakily. 

“‘M cold.” You whimpered, desperately pulling yourself ever closer to him for a bit of warmth. 

“Want a hoodie, lovely?” Your boyfriend asked you. “I don’t want you to get too overheated, darling.” 

You nodded into Luke’s chest and he carefully slid from under your grip, tucking you in and kissing your forehead with a little “be right back”. The blond wandered downstairs, throwing one of his clean hoodies into the dryer for a little extra warmth before going into the kitchen to feed Petunia and find you something to eat. Luke stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, thinking. You needed something to take medicine with, but he wasn’t the greatest cook and there wasn’t much you’d want to eat with your sore throat. 

He eventually decided on a can of chicken noodle soup that you kept in the cupboard for your flare ups and began to heat it up over the stove. While the soup simmered, Luke made you a hot cup of green tea with honey and lemon to ease the spots in your throat and began to prepare your medicines. There weren’t many, but he made sure to put both your pain reliever and your mental health medicines in a small dish so they were easily accessible for you. Anything that would help take some of the pressure off your shoulders during your flare ups, he would do. 

Luke carefully ladled the now-warm soup into a little, pink, glass bowl for you and placed it on a tray, along with your tea, your medicines, some toast and coffee for himself, and a small fake flower in hopes of making you smile. Quite happy with his little spread, Luke picked up the tray and grabbed his hoodie from the dryer, starting to make the trek upstairs with Petunia nipping at his heels. 

“I’m back, lovely.” he cooed, opening the bedroom door to look at you. 

You had propped yourself up with pillows and had made a blanket nest while he was gone, selecting a comedy to watch on Netflix. The bedroom was still dark where the curtains were still drawn, but in his mind, you looked absolutely beautiful. It never mattered to Luke how sick you were or how much the flare ups took out of you. He still thought you were the prettiest thing he had ever laid eyes on. 

Luke placed the tray at the foot of the bed, bowing goofily. “Bon appetit, madam.”

You tried to giggle, but winced when it hurt your throat. “Thank you.” You croaked out. 

“Shhh, don’t talk, babe.” he said softly, climbing into bed beside you. 

You pouted, but grabbed the bowl of soup and began to drink the broth, savoring the way the warm liquid soothed your throat. You definitely weren’t feeling much better physically, but Luke made everything better emotionally. Just his presence was comforting. He was a beyond great nurse. 

“Don’t forget to take your meds too, sweetheart.” he smiled, patting your knee. 

You did as told, swallowing them down with a sip of tea. Once you had finished the soup, you placed the bowl back on the tray and cuddled up into Luke’s side, slightly more content now that your tummy was full. You grabbed your phone off the charger and began to type, before turning the screen and showing it to Luke. 

i love you<3 You had typed. 

Luke smiled, his dimple on full display. “I love you too, babe. I just want you to focus on getting better, sweet girl.” 

A blush crept onto your cheeks and you snuggled into his side, giggling lowly. you’re the best :) You typed again. 

Your boyfriend cooed, kissing your cheek. “Remember me when they nominate the best nurse award.” he chuckled. 

You nodded eagerly, typing one more quick thing to him. 

can you look in my throat?

Luke did as you asked, of course, taking your phone from you and shining the flashlight in your throat. “You have the spots again and it’s red, baby. Definitely a flare up.” he said sadly. 

You didn’t want to cry again, but tears welled in your eyes. “I hate being sick,” You croaked out. “Just wanna live normally.” 

That sentence absolutely broke Luke’s heart. He knew how hard these flare ups were for you, especially considering there wasn’t really a cure for them. Your immune system just had some odd malfunctions, and there wasn’t much doctors could do to fix it. The best you could do was keep the worst of the side effects away with pain relievers and care. 

“Would a cool bath help, my love? You might feel better if we bring your fever down one or two degrees.” he suggested. 

Even though you had been living with PFAPA your whole life, Luke was able to think much clearer when you had flare ups, mostly because he wasn’t in a fever haze like you were. To his surprise, you nodded, which told him you must’ve been feeling terrible. You normally fought cool baths with a passion. 

Luke helped you up and to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet seat while he started the shower. He slowly helped you undress and step into the shower, holding your hand the whole time. 

“All set, baby?” he asked you. 

“Don’t go.” You whimpered, looking at him with bloodshot eyes and clinging to his hand despite the cold shower water pounding against your back. 

Luke had expected you to say that, so he just gently smiled and began to undress, stepping into the shower with you. You leaned your head back against his broad shoulder, whining softly. 

“I know, honey, I know.” the blond said sadly, massaging your shoulders, back, and tummy. 

“It’s cold. I wanna get out. I don’t feel good.” You cried. 

“A few more minutes and then I promise you can get out, sweetheart.” Luke said gently, bending down to rub your knees. 

The shower was small and Luke was a big boy, but he still crouched down on the balls of his feet and began to rub your knees, doing everything in his power to make you feel better. You were his girl and he’d do anything for you. 

It was right then that you knew Luke truly loved you. It wasn’t the fancy gifts or the passionate sex. It was intimate moments like these where you weren’t “Y/N, Luke’s girlfriend” and “Luke Hemmings from 5SOS”. You were just Luke and Y/N and that was what you loved most. 

[reclusiverisottonero]

Me and Joot

❝ i'm not staring at you, i'm admiring you. ❞

-LuLu >:3

I won't lie this request ran away from me a little but it's fine this is my event i can break my own rules if i want hehe

💌 This request was for a Valentine's Day Fluff event available to member's of Papersiren's discord server. Requests are currently closed.

❌ Minors, ageless blogs, and blank blogs are never allowed to interact with my posts regardless of the rating of the content. You will be blocked if you like/reblog this post. Thank you for respecting my boundaries

Pairing: Jotaro/Reader (gn) Warnings: none, except for prepare my very shaky knowledge of marine biology sorry Notes: is this 4taro or 6taro? you decide! thanks to my friend who gave me this date idea and here is a video that helped inspire me further!

“Where are we going, Jojo?” 

You don’t receive an answer, which is no surprise, but you’ve been walking with your partner along this boardwalk for the last ten minutes and felt like you needed to break the silence with something. Florida summers are unforgiving even during this late hour, sweat in uncomfortable places as you continue walking. As much as you’re losing your patience, you’re also curious where all this is going.

It only takes another moment before Jotaro stops in front of a gate, a sign on the front saying “Research Staff Only” and he unlocks it to let you pass through. 

“We’re almost there.” He says, taking the path without another word knowing that you’ll follow. Once you catch up you wrap yourself around Jotaro’s arm and he huffs. You look up just in time as he pulls the brim of his hat down his head. 

Jotaro leads you to a private section of the beach. The sand is shades lighter than what you’re used to and the waters nearly crystal clear. Aside from obvious lack of human interference, it’s not apparent what’s so special about this area until Jotaro walks across the sand and you watch in awe as almost every step lights up around him in brilliant shades of blue. The glow in the ocean catches the corner of your eye too. The gentle waves roll across the shore and your breath hitches at the sight of large pockets of blue hiding within the water.  

“What the fuck.” Is the only way to sum up what you’re feeling right now. You take a few steps across the sand, your mouth hanging open as the fine grains light up gently under your feet. 

“Bioluminescent dinoflagellates. Specifically Noctiluca, or to be blunt: glowing algae.” Jotaro explains, “They’re generally harmless but it’s safer if you don’t—If you don’t touch them.” He sighs that part out when he turns to see your sandals in hand, ankle deep in the sand as you kick your bare feet around to unearth the algae hidden away. 

It’s become one of those rare date-nights where Jotaro says more words in an hour than he’ll speak the entire week. His face is serious as always while you ask as many algae related questions you can think of just to continue to hear his voice. After a while, you're too enamored with the sights to notice how quiet it’s become until you’re ready to ask another question and catch his soft gaze zeroed in on you. 

“What’re you staring at?” You tease, kicking a clump of sand at his legs which snaps Jotaro back into focus and earns you an annoyed grunt.

“I'm not staring at you,” Jotaro replies, trying and failing not to sound defensive, “I’m just—I’m—” Jotaro’s voice trails off for a moment, though you can hear the rest being said under his breath as his cheeks turn a faint shade of pink, “I’m admiring you.”

A grin spreads across your face and he lets out a much louder ‘yare yare’ before leaning down for a kiss to nip any teasing you might do in the bud. Doesn’t stop you from flicking out more clumps of sand on him though. When Star Platinum appears and grabs fistfuls of the sand while you run for dear life, the algae lighting up with each step to make you the perfect target, you don’t regret a single thing.

[feelingpoorly]

Life lesson: avoid expired egg noodles

So I usually post whiny attention seeking shit like this on my insta bc even tho my kink does not apply to me at all, in some weird way complaining about how ill and knowing people would see it still kinda turns me on a little

But I figured what better place to whine about it here instead since, idk this is kinda what this blog is for

-

So we went to the shop last night and got a bunch of food from the reduced section. We do this fairly regularly cuz the expired food is so cheap and it’s usually fine if you eat it same day

Well I learnt my lesson lol. Amongst one of the things we got a couple packs of fresh egg noodles in some sauce. I didn’t really like them, but store bought is never gonna be as good as the real thing anyway right?

I was snacking on some cereal at like midnight, having eaten these noodles at like 7. I noticed that I was getting pretty severe stomach pain in the top of my stomach. It was weird and I didn’t really understand why. However I had taken some prescription painkillers earlier that day and although I take a different medication with them to try and stop this happening, they can have a habit of wrecking my stomach and giving me a tummy ache. I thought it was weird, since I definitely HAD remembered to take them with the other med this time, but whatever

Anyway I woke up this morning, we were going out to meet up with some of my partners friends for coffee. I immediately realised I felt bloated as hell, like painfully so. I figured it would pass once I was up and moving around.

It did not.

It pretty quickly progressed into pretty severe stomach cramps, to the point where every time I stood up, it would cramp so hard I couldn’t stop myself from kinda curling over and wincing. At that point I was starting to worry something was actually wrong and I wasn’t just a bit bloated.

I quite quickly started feeling pretty sick, and that’s panic territory for me, being emetophobic. I took a dissolvable anti sickness tablet, but the nausea combined with the horrible cramping made me feel very unwell. I really felt awful and sick and at that point I had to say to my partner, if I say I don’t feel well please can you just take me home. I didn’t know how I was gonna cope sitting in a coffee shop feeling like this. When the cramps hit I was in a lot of pain. Bearing in mind I live with chronic pain, I’m not a baby about pain, but this was the kind of pain that you just wince voluntarily and I couldn’t hide it.

Thankfully the anti sickness meds kicked in, and after sitting down for a while the nausea and the cramps settled down a bit to the point where I was no longer freaking out about being ill in public. I should probably add here that on the way there in the car, my stomach was making some really upset sounding deep rumbling gurgles. Like it didn’t sound good. The kinda gurgles that only come with being sick. I didn’t feel well enough to have a drink or anything to eat which probably looked a little suss. Later on a got just a bottle of lemonade hoping it would settle my stomach but when I sipped it, it just make it worse and my stomach started cramping again.

Skip to being home this evening, I’d thought the worse was over and I’d been feeling kinda ok. I had some light dinner, and what a fucking bad idea that was lol.

Im not having the intermittent intense cramps anymore but like, now my whole stomach feels bloated af again and I have like this sharp cramping pain kinda all over, both upper and lower stomach with just no relief. I’m so bloated my stomach is sticking out but there’s no relief from it at all. Holding my stomach helps but I feel so embarrassed so I’ve tried to hide it and only rub my tummy when my partner went to sleep.

What makes it worse, is that up until this point I had no idea what caused any of this. But when we got home, there was an absolutely rancid smell in the kitchen that smelt like off, rotting food. It was absolutely foul. It almost even smelt like vomit, and just smelling it made my nausea kick off all over again.

It was the leftover noodles. And let me tell you, they smelt pungent as FUCK. I literally ate those last night, and they smell that bad today? No wonder I’ve felt ill. I have that shit in my stomach. Even after my partner bagged up the leftovers, sealed it and put it in the bin, just the PLATE they were on is still emitting this foul smell, it’s just awful

Eating dinner was a bad choice, because now I just feel worse again. I don’t feel that sick anymore, probably because of the meds, but my stomach feels horrible again. I’m in so much pain, I can’t suck my tummy in at all with how sore and bloated and painful it is. I feel like an absolutely pathetic self indulgent lil bitch but I literally just went to make myself a hot water bottle to hold to my tummy as I try and sleep, because it hurts and this is not fun. I just want some relief, and currently nothing else is helping. As I’m lying here holding my tummy with one hand and holding the hot water bottle on it with the other, it’s gurgling and glugging really loudly sickly again and it just feels awful. I can literally feel it in my insides, and with the way it feels I just really hope it doesn’t all come back up again, probably still along with the undigested noodles from last night if the way I’m feeling is anything to go by 🥺

-

Anyway, I just came here to complain about it in way too much detail lmao. Hopefully someone enjoys my misery. As I said, although it’s embarrassing as hell, somehow the thought of other people knowing or being sympathetic etc is also kinda hot

If anyone wants to use my sorry ass as fic inspo then ofc you have my blessing lmao. In fact, if you do, PLEASE let me know as I’d love to read it haha

Anyway, off to moan quietly to myself and hold the hot water bottle on my aching tummy now x

[how-masterful]

Remastered

Dhawan!Master X Reader

Chapter 8: The Snowmen

Summary: Christmas. 1892. You decided long ago that you and the Master were finished. Broken up. Done . But dark forces are brewing, and winter is on its way. Can saving the world from evil snowmen be the thing that finally gets you and the Master back together?

Notes: Good gods, I make a promise to not rewrite an entire episode again, and guess what I go and do! Many apologies that this didn’t go up in December, somehow I managed to forget just how busy things could get during the holidays. But better late than never! This fic is a biggie, clocking in at just under 16.5k words. So, grab a snack, a hot drink perhaps, but definitely get comfy. I hope you all enjoy, and i look forward to all the new fic’s i’ll be posting this year. Stay tuned! (ps, I hope this is a suitable bed time story @plethora-of-imagines​!)

Warnings: Cannon Typical Violence, Mild Language

The Rose and Crown was bustling with life. The merriment, and fervent drunkenness, was palpable within the London tavern, the regulars happily knocking back tankard after tankard. It always was this time of year, the bitter cold being drowned by the warmth of alcohol, a saving grace for those who had to work a hard day's graft. Sweeping through the days end crowd you slid the empty mugs onto the metal serving platter, patting the back of a familiar friend, and saving a drink from being knocked to the floor from an exuberant mid-storytelling gesture. You smiled, giving a small wave of ‘you’re welcome’, before disappearing out the back door. 

The pot wash was a small trek away now, considering the landlord had yet to find somebody to fix the broken side door- which you presumed to mean he couldn’t find anybody cheap enough to finish the job. He was a nice man, probably, when wasn’t underpaying you, staring at your chest, or getting drunk off his own stock. You could tell he was meant for better things, things not involving women or alcohol. That was the Victorian way. Not much different to the 21st century.

As you let the door latch shut, you turned to head across the back courtyard, when the sudden rush of wind bristled behind your back. Spinning around, you raised an eyebrow at the far corner. Where once had stood a propped up broom and an empty barrel, now stood a large snowman. A bulbous head sat upon a tall, wide body, its eyes a deep and narrowed black, its mouth a small slit in the snow- filled with razor sharp teeth, much like fangs. Instantly, you dropped the serving platter, sitting it down upon the pile of crates behind the back door. 

The courtyard had seemed to become chillier, your fingers grappling to pull the red shawl across your front, tucking the ends into the ribbon of your dirtied apron. The snowman seemed normal, upon inspection, your arms folding across your chest as you leaned in to take a look. You studied the creation carefully- any normal person would say it was the handiwork of an excited child, happy to receive the first snow of the season. But this felt… different. The way the eyes seemed to watch you, the way the teeth seemed to multiply the deeper you looked into its snarling grin. 

Something about this snowman felt… off. Otherworldly. Evil.

“I doubt he pays his barmaids to make snowmen on the job.”

A familiar voice called from the alleyway, leading back towards the street. At the sound you rolled your eyes, taking a deep sigh, your shoulders pushing back instinctively as the figure emerged from the shadows and into the courtyard.

“Not in this economy, anyway.”

“Ah, no wonder I had a gut feeling of otherworldly evil. It was just you.”

The Master smirked, his boots leaving heavy footprints in the snow.

“Aw, bless. You’re still so kind to me.”

“It wasn’t a compliment. Any reason why you’re skulking about and making snowmen outside my pub?”

You gestured towards the strange snowman, and the Master sent you a strange expression, stepping deeper into the courtyard.

“Am I not allowed to take a walk in my own city? And I've got much better things to do with my time than sit around building stupid snowmen.”

You rolled your eyes once more, giving a small, huffing sigh.

“Well, it wasn’t here earlier. And nobody else is strange enough to be wandering around in this cold.”

The time lord gave a similar sigh, before pulling a pair of glasses out of his top pocket and perching them on the bridge of his nose. The Master narrowed his eyes towards you, looking you up and down, as if inspecting you. In return, you did the same. He’d abandoned the creepers and cuffed pants for a pair of chelsea boots and long trousers, marrying his costume of gentlemanly standing with a woollen waistcoat and a familiar long, deep purple coat- this time lined with a woollen lining, a matching scarf slung around his neck, paired with a top hat perched atop his hair, now curled and refined instead of flailing madly. He’d even taken a razor to his jaw, his face now smooth and beardless. You hated to admit it, but he looked incredibly handsome. You shook the thought away- you shouldn’t be thinking that anymore.

The Master stepped closer to the snowman, and you followed suit, inspecting the mound of sculpted snow closely. He reached out and snatched a lump out of the side, crushing the small snowball within his grasp.

“Maybe the snow got bored of sitting on the floor, and turned itself into something more remarkable. Maybe, the snow remembered how to make a snowman. Maybe, it remembered how to have fun once in a while.”

You scoffed quietly by his side.

“There’s no need to be so condescending,” you said sharply, copying his gesture with the snow. You inspected the ice crystals closely.

“It was never your best quality.��

The Master turned to face you, one hand falling to his hip.

“If I recall, you were quite fond of it.” He jabbed, pulling away from the snowman.

“Not when it’s directed at me, it’s not.”

“And why is that?”

“Because i’m-” You stopped yourself in your tracks, biting your lip at the words that almost fell from your tongue. The Master waited expectantly, the familiar look of superiority plastered across his face when you couldn’t finish your argument. With a satisfied hum he removed the glasses from his face before sliding them back into his breast pocket. He shoved his hands in his pockets before turning on his heels, the Master heading back towards the shadows.

“Pretty girls that can carry trays are easy to come by, so I suggest you get back to work unless you want to end up even further below the poverty line.”

He called over his shoulder. You scowled, pressing your lips tightly together before following him out of the courtyard and into the alleyway.

“You looked better with a beard.” You lied, your anger searching for any insult that could dig at his vanity. The Master gave no reaction, a growl emerging from your throat.

“I’d say don’t catch your death, but that’d be preferable. Bare faces don’t do well in the cold.”

The Master paused and turned around once more, the twinkle in his eye still infuriatingly beautiful.

“Very cute, but I'm not the one who has to rely on candles and gropey factory workers tipping well to keep warm.” He replied, turning back to face you before he reached the corner.

“I’ve got a TARDIS for that. Thanks for the tip though, the sentiment’s touching- but you know you don’t have to follow the whole ‘In sickness and in health’ thing anymore, don’t you?”

You grit your teeth together, a small tug building in your stomach as you saw him walk away, whistling a small tune to himself as he disappeared into the night.

You pondered for a second, the cogs within your head turning rapidly within the machinery of your mind. The Master didn’t do anything for no reason, especially since he’d taken to staying on earth, which you still didn’t understand why. No, there had to be another reason why he’d decided to step out into the night. The first full snow, beyond the light dustings of powder that had covered certain parts of the city. This was a full blown, stereotypical, Victorian Christmas. And something about it was troubling the Master. You had to find out why.

With a forceful tug, your apron slipped down the front of your dress, soon trampled into the melting mush of snow at the edge of the courtyard. You made haste in traversing the alleyway and sprinting out into the open, the roads covered in the sludge left by the traffic of carriage wheels and horse hooves. A dark carriage was rolling down the main street, its driver hooded and cloaked, the windows hidden by the roller curtain, the damask a deep shade of maroon. Nobody else in London town would be so macabre without being in mourning- that had to be the Masters carriage. 

Breaking into a further sprint, you dodged past couples on clandestine strolls, drunkards stumbling through the street, and established gentlemen who could risk a nightly stroll without the risk of murder or societal impropriety. No doubt your mad dash would become gossip, the girl with the red dress chasing after a vehicle and doing something rather reprehensible- but you couldn’t care less. 

The carriage turned, its momentum slowing to allow the weight, and you took that moment to leap. Your boot hooked onto the metal latch of the back of the carriage, the ornate metalwork acting as handlebars as you yanked yourself upwards. There you lay on the roof, on your belly, fingers grappling to reach the small latch that opened the roof compartment. You lay for a while, listening in to the conversation inside. From the metal scratching you could tell he was communicating with somebody from a distance away, most likely a hypnotised nobody to do his dirty work. They were much easier to come by these days.

“The snow’s evolving fast, that snowman built itself in a single second. They’re also spreading closer to the river. I want more eyes out there. Especially around Blanc street.”

Blanc street? You raised an eyebrow. That was the street the Rose and Crown was on.

“Yes Master. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Ah, so this drone wasn’t exactly mindless. Maybe the Master had gotten lonely. Good. 

Inside the cabin, the Master paused.

“Yes,” he said after a while. “I did. She’s still alive. Still the same as ever. Still…”

There was a long silence. The goon on the other side coughed quietly.

“Still what, Master?”

The timelord course corrected, huffing dramatically. He always did that when he didn’t want to admit the truth.

“Still so nosy.” He replied. “She was all over that snowman, she could sense something was off about it too. Presumptuous, if you ask me. Personally I think she’s just looking for trouble. Sometimes I question why I even married her.”

That was it. With a powerful push, you shoved the pin from the top of the latch, the square gap opening wide as the lid swung downwards on its hinges. You followed suit, rocking forwards and allowing your head to fall through the gap, your upside down face meeting with the Master's shocked expression. You furrowed your brow, tone exasperated and curt.

“Because I said yes!” You snapped, and the Master's face immediately soured.

Slamming his knuckles against the front of the carriage, he scrunched his nose in annoyance.

“Pull over! Right, get in here-” He barked at the driver, a quiet ‘yes, Master’ echoing through the roof. The Master's hands suddenly reached forward, latching hold of your shoulders.

“Oi!” You shouted in reply, the momentum sending you tumbling down into the carriage. You felt your tailbone collide with the bottom of the carriage, your legs flying to land on the opposing bench, your dress ruffles falling to expose your lower thighs, your head ending up sat in the Masters lap. You both paused, staring at each other, the tangible pull of memory freezing you both in place. Any other time, any other you, his hands would begin to cart through your hair. But now was not one of those times. You shuffled awkwardly out of his lap, trying to manoeuvre yourself away from his clutches, and also trying to salvage any dignity you could muster. You brushed down your dress, sitting uncomfortably across from the Master and folding your arms indignantly. The time lord frowned, tapping his fingers upon his knees.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The Master snapped.

“What on earth possessed you to jump on the top of my carriage?”

“Because I missed you SO much.” You mocked, smiling sarcastically.

“And because you stormed off without telling me what you know about the snow.”

“Oh, really-” The Master scoffed, rubbing his hands over his face. The carriage pulled over into a small precinct, no unlike the courtyard flanking the Rose and Crown. The horses rode to a stop, kicking at the snow with a snuffle, fresh snowflakes landing upon their noses. The driver sat, almost frozen, small layers of snow building upon his shoulders before melting from his body heat.

“I knew the only reason you came snooping around the pub was because you were curious about something.” You said, pointing towards the ceiling, and the small metallic speaker that poked through the top of the cab. “And your little chat with whoever, confirmed that.”

Leaning forward, you mimicked the Master's pose.

“Something is going on with the snow, and you think it's alien. And, considering you’re keeping a low profile instead of trying to form a rocky alliance with the culprit I KNOW you already have in mind-”

The Master scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“You think it’s dangerous. And not in a good way.”

The Master threw his hands up in the air, reaching towards the cabin door with a scowl.

“I’m not doing this. I’m not getting into this with you-”

Storming out of the cabin and into the cold, the Master's feet split the fresh layer of snow. He charged forwards, standing in the middle of the empty street and letting out a low groan, his hands falling to his hips.

“Hey-” You called after him, almost jumping out of the carriage.

“I have a right to know-”

“No, you don’t!”

The Master spun around, practically launching himself across the snow in your direction, his finger pointed towards your chest.

“I don’t owe you anything! You don’t get anything from me anymore! You gave up the right to know anything the moment you left the TARDIS-”

“Because you wouldn’t tell me anything in the first place!”

You replied, the heat of anger warming your cheeks.

“You, Master, it was you that shut me out first. You dropped the ball, with your whole ‘time lord superiority’ and your secrets. Do you think it was an easy decision for me?”

“Well, it certainly seemed like it!” He argued back, teeth bared like an animal.

“And, Y/N, if I recall, I wasn’t the one that said I didn’t want to be married anymore-”

“I wasn’t the one that made it impossible to be married!”

The pair of you stood eye to eye, faces almost touching, shoulders shaking with rage. This palpable divide, the pain of yearning, it felt like a pair of handcuffs around your necks- keeping you tethered together through an inescapable pain. The Master yanked away his stare first, slamming the door of the cab shut before returning to your confrontational exterior.

“Right. Here’s what's going to happen. I’m going to take away the last hour of your memory-”

“You what-”

“Just shut up and listen!” He ordered. “I’m going to take it away. You, me, the snow, it’s all going to go away. You’re going to go back to your job, and everything that's happened between us tonight will feel like just a dream. That way you don’t have to worry about anything. And you’ll stay out of all of this.”

You instinctively pulled away from the timelord, looking him up and down with disbelief. He had no reason to do that, no reason to take it all away from you. But why only an hour? This was a man capable of using hypnosis to reset a person's brain completely, his ability so advanced he could practically erase them from the minds of everybody they’d ever known. He’d built an entire satellite system designed to paint himself as an angel in every single human's mind- so why would he be so merciful?

“Then you can tell me now, can’t you?”

The Master raised his eyebrow in confusion.

“What?”

“You can tell me everything you know now, and I'll forget it all. You always worked better after you rambled your whole plan. That way we’re both happy.”

You looked at him hopefully, your curiosity desperate to know what he knew. The Master thought for a moment, before letting his whole body sink into a defeated sigh.

“Is that the only thing keeping you from running?”

“Why would I run away?”

“I just told you I'm going to wipe your memory.”

“And I've just discovered evil snow exists. If you’re desperate for a chase, I'll run after you tell me. I bet I'll get at least five streets down before I get a stitch and you catch me. Never any good at sprinting and all.”

For the first time that night, the Master truly smiled. A real smile, not one of sarcastic superiority.

“Fine.” He relented, bending down to inspect the snow between his fingers once more.

“From what I can gather, the snow emits a low level telepathic field, basically a fishing net for thought-”

A sudden chill crossed over the back of your neck, the same distant whooshing of winter air emerging from the end of the back alley. You stepped away from the Master to inspect the cobbled alleyway, your eyes widening at the sight of the same snowman looming ominously at the end of the street.

“The snowman…” You said to yourself, watching the mouth of the creature begin to widen, more and more teeth emerging in the gap.

“-catching the thoughts and reflecting it back at the people stuck inside. But this stuff is acting strangely, carrying over a previous shape-”

“Master!” You yelled, grabbing hold of his shoulder and yanking him to your side, pointing towards the snowman.

“The snowman!”

The Master rubbed his hands together at the sight, instantly stepping forwards to inspect the new arrival. Your hand on his arm kept him from getting closer, his curiosity reaching its absolute peak.

“Ah! How grand.” He called excitedly, looking the grinning snowman up and down.

“Were you thinking about the snowman?”

“Yes!” You replied hastily. A second snowman suddenly shot up from the ground, the loud whoosh sending the pair of you stepping backwards in shock.

“Then I suggest you stop!” The Master finished, before grabbing hold of your arm and yanking you away.

 The pair of you turned to run, hoping to make a grand escape in the Masters carriage, when a further two snowmen appeared at the other end of the alleyway. You were boxed in, more and more snow creatures shooting like rockets out of the earth, their grins opening wide as a blizzard of snow emerged from their mouths. The snow was blinding, knocking the pair of you back into the middle of the alleyway, your arms flying upwards to shield your faces from the onslaught.

“Y/N, stop thinking about the snowmen!”

“I can’t!” You cried.

 The thought was stuck at the forefront of your brain, their deep black eyes and piercing grins plastered across the inside of your mind's eye. At this, the snowmen seemed to grow taller, their rumbling growls increasing the ferocity of the snow. The Master grabbed hold of your arms, pulling you down to the floor of the alleyway, your fingers grasping his jacket material as his hands reached to grasp hold of your face.

“Y/N, the snowmen are feeding off your thoughts, you’re trapped in their telepathic field, their fishing net-”

“I don’t understand!” You shouted, something primal in your gut screaming for help. You’d faced down daleks and cybermen and not even blinked, but now you were admitting your fear at the hands of demonic snowmen. The Master leaned in closer, his forehead almost meeting your own.

“The more you think of them, the more they appear, but you can change them-”

“How?!”

“Think of them melting. C’mon, Love, picture them melted!”

You scrunched your eyes shut, and began to visualise. You forced every part of your brain into action, fighting hard to imagine the snowmen around you as nothing more than sad little puddles. You pictures the scene in your mind- the Master and you crouched in the middle of the alley, the snowmen around you disappearing into a mound of sludge and cold water. The Master closed his eyes too, picturing a similar thought, and the frozen growls around you were squozen into a pathetic roar. You gasped as a powerful burst of rain crashed onto you from both sides, your hair and clothes now sopping wet as the snowmen disintegrated into nothingness, melting into the cobbles. The Master laughed, his hands automatically pulling you towards his chest, his fingers stroking down the back of your hair as you launched yourself into his arms.

“Well done, good girl, well done.” He said comfortingly into your hair, your nose breathing the scent of his aftershave in deep. It took a few seconds for him to realise what he was doing, the Master pushing your shoulders away to arms length, his face looking as if he was performing a million mental calculations at once. 

“Ehem,” he attempted, nodding curtly. “Good job. You got rid of the problem you created.”

“Is that going to happen again?” You asked as he moved to stand, brushing off his knees and taking the top hat from his head, pulling a face at the wet patch on its side.

“Maybe, the snow is spreading.” The Master explained, placing it back on his head.

“If it does, now you know what to do about it.”

You leant against the brick wall, shivering from the bite of cold that clung to the cold water, sending goosebumps across your skin. Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked up at the Master with a disappointed frown.

“Unless I forget.” You said, the Master's face falling in reply.

Soon he’d dragged you to your feet and bustled you into the carriage, pushing you to sit on the leather seat, his hands braced on each side of the door.

“Go home, get warm, go to bed. Don’t go investigating the snow, stay out of trouble.”

He said, or more likely commanded. You nodded at his words, knowing full well you weren't going to follow them.

“Thank you.” You said softly. “For saving me… and for not scrubbing my brain.”

The Master smiled slightly, glancing down at the floor.

“Don’t get used to it. I think it's better for both our sanities if we stay out of each others lives, all things considered. If I can't wipe your mind, try your best to do it yourself.”

Before he managed to pull away, you placed your own hand on the frame of the door.

“What are you going to do? Shouldn’t people be warned about the snow?” You asked. The Master smirked, the villainous bravado returning to his face once again.

“You and I both know that's not how I work. I suggest buying a raincoat”

“How am I supposed to do that on the barmaids wage you so detest?”

The Master scrunched his nose challengingly, before gesturing to the falling snow.

“Put it on your Christmas list.”

The door slammed with a metallic crunch, the Master's hand pressing itself against the glass. You looked closely at his hand as he muttered something to the driver about taking you home, your eyes falling upon his ring finger, pressed against the surface. You felt your heart lurch at the indentation on his finger, the small area of skin that used to hold his wedding band now exposed to the cold air. With two knocks to the side of the carriage the horses began to move, the Master walking away from the cabin and heading down the same alleyway the snowmen had appeared on, merging with the shadows as easily as the snow merged with the earth.

No. You couldn't let him escape so easily. Not after all that. You leant against the far wall of the carriage, giving the door a harsh push. The door swung open on its hinges, a small victory, and with a graceful leap you landed in a pile of wet sludge. Ignoring the wet that had started to soak into your boots, you made haste in catching up with the Master. His purposeful strides had struck deep into previously undisturbed snow, the journey winding through side streets and alleyways as you followed him towards the park. Hiding behind a tree, you watched the Master shove his hands into his pockets and casually stroll through the park gate. He was whistling to himself, pursing his lips and whistling out the chorus of Last Christmas. The Master had always seemingly been a fan of the 80’s, you thought. Not that anybody in the 19th century, beyond yourself of course, would be able to share in his enthusiasm. 

Dashing over to another tree, you watched him turn his head from side to side, inspecting his surroundings for any onlookers. Once he’d decided the coast was clear, you watched in surprise as he leapt into the air, his hands clasping onto something metallic, sending a small clang into the wind. With a seasoned pull he yanked downwards, his feet dangling above the snow as he leant upon what seemed to be the bottom rung of a ladder. You blinked in surprise, watching the feet of the ladder sink into the snow. The Timelord took one last look over each shoulder, and after he was satisfied, the Masters shoes began to easily climb their way up. It took only a few steps before the Master had somehow disappeared from view, and with the sound of two ringing taps, the ladder began to ascend once more into invisibility, still to the unbroken tune of Last Christmas.

 Without hesitation you raced towards the ascending ladder. You had to grasp hold of it now that he’d engaged with it. Surely he’d booby trapped it, attached some sort of safety mechanism. No doubt if some stranger had decided to climb up, they’d receive an electric shock, or searing burns across their palms, or possibly something much more macabre. You had no clue what the Master's mind had been able to create in his spiteful isolation. A part of you, as crazy as it was, deeply yearned to find out. You took a running leap towards the continuously rising ladder, hand outstretched. If you could just grasp hold of the bottom rung, you could yank down the ladder and follow him. 

It was getting closer and closer, you were within a jump's reach. With gusto you leapt straight into the air, practically an olympian- and proceeded to skim the bottom rung with your fingertips, before crashing back to the ground with an embarrassing puff of snow.

 You groaned, the impact cold against your back, your pride bruised as much as your behind was. From here you could see into the sky, the clouds sprinkling a dusting of snow into the atmosphere, the moon shining through the naked branches of dormant trees. Despite being right under where it had descended, there was no ladder above you. You cocked your head to the side, narrowing your eyes. The Master had seemingly ascended and disappeared from any sort of view. You couldn’t allow yourself to be defeated so easily, not after he’d gone to all that unneeded effort to save you earlier. The Master had the power to travel anywhere he wanted, anywhere he could possibly desire- yet he’d decided to stay in the same city he’d abandoned you in. If you couldn’t pick his brain and figure out why, you at least deserved to know where he’d set up shop.

Picking yourself up from the ground, you dusted off your skirt, which had only just begun to dry from the onslaught of melting snowmen. You focused your approach, stepping back from the spot and turning over your shoulder, just as the Master had. You bent your knees, preparing a run up, breathing the icy air into your lungs. You pushed off, kicking up a cloud of snow behind you, and swiftly leapt into the skies. 

Clang. Your fingers connected with a bar of cold metal, your hands wrapping tightly around the bottom of the ladder. No shock, no poison, no searing burns. The Master hadn’t trapped the ladder at all. You smiled, victorious at last. 

You glanced up towards the sky, your eyes widening as you saw the rest of the ladder appear against the darkness, your core sufficiently engaging as you yanked the ladder back down towards the earth. You climbed up each rung as fast as you could, eyes unbroken from the heavens, and as you ascended the ladder you smiled in disbelief. Below you, Londoners were once again roaming the streets. You called out to them, waving down at the man and woman who were walking their dog down the street. The dog began to yap, tugging on its lead, yet the owners paid no mind. Beside you, a stray cat lounged and mewed within the spindling branches of the tree, unbothered by your rapid ascent. 

“Oh, hello lovely.” You mused, fingers softly scratching between the cats ears, the small creature mewing in delight before slinking further up the branch. 

You followed its trail as it nimbly manoeuvred the thinning branches, your eyes falling upon the sudden appearance of a looming staircase, spiralling up high into the layer of clouds above, connected to the metal platform beneath your feet. Your hand connected with the hand rail, curved and coiled in intricate fashion, and your foot moved to step upon the first stair. The cat yowled, your attention once more pulled back to the ladder. It was still dangling downwards, feet piercing the snow. You put your hand on your hip, squinting your eyes as you questioned why it had not shot up like it had for the Master. He’d pulled down the ladder, climbed up, then you heard- oh! You ran towards the ladder and tapped it twice with your foot, watching as it disturbed the blanket of snow and began to rise back to where it belonged.

“Thanks.” You said to the cat, that licked its paw in reply. You never forgot to speak to the stray cats you encountered, the stories of the Cheetah Planet instilling a respect inside you for any possible kittlings you could encounter.

 Once more, you crossed invisibly towards the grand staircase, clapping hold of the bannister and placing your foot upon the bottom step. The whole structure felt like it was brimming with energy, the towering spiral almost buzzing under your feet as you carefully made your way into the skies. No matter how many steps you ascended, the usual stitch or lack of breath never reached your body. You didn’t even struggle with the change in atmosphere, it was as if you were clambering up in your own pocket of oxygen. 

The stairs took little effort, and soon you found yourself heading straight through the cloud layer. The air was cool, the soft water vapour tickling your nose as the end of the bannister came into sight. You paused, feet lodged upon the last step, and you eyed the floor curiously. Or, what you presumed to be the floor. Instead of a platform, you saw the vapour continued to sprawl across the ground, a blanket of cloud waiting at your feet. Perhaps this was where the Master would play his last trick, letting you believe you’d made it to the top, and send you plummeting back down to the earth. The most effective way to deal with intruders. And door to door salesmen.

Dubiously, you placed the toe of your boot onto the layer of cloud. Instinctively, you pulled back when your foot connected with something hard. Taking a breath, you stepped once more, this time allowing your whole foot to connect with the somehow solid cloud. First one foot, then another, and when you were finally satisfied, you allowed your hand to let go of the curved end of the handrail.

 Suddenly, all around you, the world began to glimmer. It was like a switch had been flipped, one by one the black night began to twinkle with stars, the horizon shimming with shapes and constellations, unblemished by any sort of light pollution. A small laugh escaped your throat as you stepped further onto the cloud, your arms reaching out as you span in a circle. You felt like a princess, albeit in your pauper gown, spinning around atop of a cloud. Like something out of a fairy tale.

 It was mid spin that you suddenly noticed the looming structure, and you stopped dead in your tracks. Your stomach began to flip and knot, your hands falling to your sides as you stared at the building with a yearning ache in your chest. There it was, standing proudly out of place atop of the cloud, atop of Victorian London. That Outback shack, that hut with its overhanging porch and boarded up walls, The Master's TARDIS. It hummed and shimmered in the low light, staring back at you with all its disguised majesty.

 Hesitantly, you stepped closer, each step bridging you closer to the front door. Part of you wondered if he’d be able to see you through the windows- maybe he’d turned them function, rather than decorational. Perhaps you’d see him, sitting inside by the console like a Scrooge, nursing a cup of tea and sitting with a book. Maybe he was angrily messing with the console, or the TCE, or any other piece of tech he could rip apart and put back together again. Part of you hoped he had a giant investigation board, completed with red string and shoddy camera pictures of blurry snowmen. While another part of you hoped he’d popped out to the shop via the back door. But you knew there was no back door to the TARDIS. That was what made your proximity feel so darn painful.

 Soon you found yourself stood at the front door, staring down at the wood and fighting the anxiety fuelled breaths your body was yearning you take. All it would take was one knock. Maybe two, possibly three, never four. Just some sort of sign. Some sort of attempt to get his attention. 

You shuffled your feet awkwardly, considering all the dreadful possibilities. He could make good of his promise to wipe your mind, maybe this time for good. He could stick an arm out and shrink you, like he’d done once with a poor bunch of carol singers. Hell, he could even kick you off the cloud himself for bothering him. Or… he could invite you in. Maybe make you a cup of tea, show you his string board of the investigation, let you warm up by the fire. Maybe he’d let you back in again. Maybe you’d never have to leave again. It took every ounce of will in your body to raise your hand, to simply press it against the door of that beloved Time and Space machine. Just to feel the familiar, comforting hum of its walls. 

You let your hand rest against the wood, working up the courage to make that fateful knock- but the TARDIS herself had seemingly decided you were taking far too long. At the touch of your hand, the TARDIS began to buzz and whirr with excitement, like a dog barking the moment it heard the postman approach the drive. 

“Shit!” You whispered to yourself, yanking your hand away and turning on your heels.

 You jumped down off the porch and ran across the cloud as fast as you could, charging towards the bannister and fleeing towards the spiral staircase once again. You felt your shawl fall from your shoulders, but the anxiety in your chest was too pervasive to care. You plunged through the cloud layer, racing down the staircase as fast as your boots would allow. The TARDIS door swung open behind you, and the Master stepped out onto the porch, his jacket and hat abandoned and glasses once more perched upon the end of his nose. 

“Who’s there?” He called into the night, narrowing his eyes and scoping out the surroundings, TCE gripped in his grasp.

“Show yourself.” He called louder this time. No reply came from the cloud. 

The Master sighed, staring over at the horizon, when a shock of red against the perfect white ground caught his attention. He stepped closer to the start of the staircase, crouching down to the ground and grasping at the red cloth. The Master peered at the fabric, humming in thought, when the memory suddenly appeared at the forefront of his mind. You had been wearing the exact same shawl when he’d seen you earlier. Poking his head through the cloud, the Master stared at the small figure in a red dress sprinting through the park gates. A smile had unknowingly found its way to the Master's mouth, the time lord pushing himself up from the ground. He huffed out of his nose, before turning back and retreating back through the TARDIS doors, the red shawl still clutched tightly between his fingers.

The next morning the sun dared to gleam through the windows of the Rose and Crown guest room, the rays of sun dancing across your face and pulling you from slumber. Your vision settled on the brown leather bag upon the chair at the end of your bed, your whole body filled with a new sense of purpose. You clambered out of bed, eagerly throwing on your dress from the night before, your brows furrowing as you searched your small wardrobe for the red shawl you were sure you’d thrown off the night earlier. You sighed, opting for a brown woollen one instead, shoving the last of your things into the brown bag and practically skipping down the stairs.

“What’s all this about?” The landlord called, wiping down the surface of the bar and watching you, puzzled. 

“It’s Christmas Eve,” you replied. “ I'm off. Elsie gets back this afternoon, I’m sure you’ll survive.”

Before the landlord could protest, or leer, or do anything at all, you blew a kiss and headed out the front door to the waiting cab. You slipped a small bag of coins to the cab driver, who took hold of your bag and opened the door to the cabin. You hiked up your dress, your eyes falling to the bare cobble street. Just the night before, the streets had been bathed in a blanket of snow. Now… nothing. It was as if the city itself was following the Masters instructions, trying to make you forget of the night's events. But you were determined otherwise.

“Funny,” you muttered to yourself as you stepped into the cabin, taking your bag back and pulling down the roller blinds.

“Must have all thawed in the night.”

Later that afternoon, the Master was once more disturbed. This time not by the TARDIS herself, but by the small sound of scratching against the wooden door. The Master growled to himself, placing the book that had been open on his lap firmly on the table beside his chair. He pulled the glasses from the end of his nose, abandoning them atop of the book, and headed towards the front door of the TARDIS with annoyance. How hard was it to get through one stupid book without any intrusion? The Master sighed as he yanked open the front door, staring down at the porch to see a cat staring back up at him. 

“What do you want now?”

The Master grumbled, the kittlings eyes glowing a golden yellow as it slinked into the TARDIS between his feet. The Master lent against the doorframe, the small black cat purring as it trotted over the carpet towards the Masters living quarters.

“You know, you’re supposed to be out hunting. You can’t keep coming here for your food. It’s Victorian London, Shadow. Mice are everywhere. ”

The cat gave a muffled purr of protest. The Master sighed.

“I suppose it is payment, you’re right. Fine,” He ran his hand through his hair. 

“Don’t make yourself too comfy.”

Trotting her way across the faded floral rug, the kittling leapt up onto the Masters chair, turning in a circle before sitting down like a mimicry of the Sphinx. The Master headed towards the small kitchenette, setting the kettle to boil once more and pulling a mug from the cupboard. It had chipped upon the golden rim, the comical slogan ‘I went to the Catrigan Nova and all I got was this stupid mug’ faded from several turns in the dishwasher. His hand paused as he looked at the mug right beside it. A black and white UNIT office mug, likely slipped into a bag on a previous arrest. That was your mug. It hadn’t been used in some time.

“Although, after that little stunt you pulled last night, I should be planning on skinning you. Why did you let her up here?”

The kittling gave what could be a shrug, licking at her paws idly. The Master pulled a bag of treats out of the lower cabinet, the kettle whistling as it finished its boil.

“And don’t play coy, I found her shawl at the top of the steps. I know you let her up the staircase. What’s the point of having a guard cat that doesn’t guard?”

The Master carried both his fresh tea and the bag of treats towards the living area, rolling his eyes at the display.

“Oi, no, get lost. That's my chair.”

His rantings were cut short by the sight of the envelope tied to the kittlings back with a ribbon. A perfect, white, crisp envelope, with the Masters name scrawled across in deep black cursive ink. 

“What’s that?” He asked. The kittling purred, stretching once more upon the soft armchair as the Master untied the ribbon around the envelope, letting the square of white paper fall from its back.

“When did she give you this?”

Yet another purr. The Master swallowed. 

“Thanks. Here, take some of these and get lost.” 

The kittling happily snatched the entire bag of treats from the Master's grasp, the Time lord shouting in protest as the small cat hopped down from the chair and scarpered its way back out of the door. The TARDIS shut the door behind the small cat, and the Master placed his tea on the side, trading the mug for his glasses. He placed them back on the end of his nose before ripping open the envelope and unfolding the letter within.

“Master,

I hope you’re not surprised by me completely ignoring what you told me to do. I promise I did consider leaving things be. Consider being the word of the day. But the trouble with the snow has reached a point where I can’t risk it getting any worse. Francesca Latimer has been having bad dreams. Specifically about her old governess. She drowned in the pond in front of the house nearly a year ago, only to be found days later after the ice thawed. While I'm sure this is gossip you probably heard but didn’t care about- Frannie’s been dreaming about her. She dreams she’ll appear on Christmas eve to punish her, dragging herself out of the pond. I wanted to chalk this up to childhood theatrics, but I think she’s right. The pond is still frozen, even after last night's thaw. And I felt something. I swear, when I touched that pond, something felt strange. It’s the same feeling I had when we saw that snowman outside the pub last night. Like you said- the snow can feed off of thoughts. The more you think, the more it appears. I can’t explain it, but my gut knows something isn’t right. Please, Master. I know we aren't on the best of terms, but this is important to me. Something is going to happen tonight. And I need your help. 

I hope this letter gets to you. Kittling mail is never fully reliable. Please come to the Latimer’s house as fast as you can. After this, I promise you’ll never have to deal with me again.

Y/N 

(Ps, when you get here, ask for the Governess Miss Montague. I’ll explain later.)”

The Master looked up from the letter, staring over at the corner of the room. Your shawl was thrown over your untouched chair, the pillow still plumped just how you liked it, your unfinished pile of books still sat upon the side table. The Master walked over to the chair, delicately placing the letter upon the stack of books, brushing the thin layer of dust from the top of the chair with his finger.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He murmured, glancing over his shoulder at the large investigation board he’d assembled on the wall, all about the snow. He walked back over to his chair, picking up the abandoned book and looking down at the cover. He looked back to the board, then back down to the book. At that moment, an idea built in his head.

“Always dressing for the occasion, aren't I?” He said, a smile on his face as he headed towards the TARDIS wardrobe, his unfinished copy of the Hound of the Baskervilles thrown idly back onto the chair.

“Come now, you two!” You called, clapping your hands as the Latimer children raced past each other towards the bathroom.

“I want shiny bright teeth and squeaky clean faces. And what do we never forget to clean?”

“Behind our ears!” They called in reply, giggling as they fought over the space in the sink.

“Indeed, and do we remember why?”

“Because secrets get hidden behind there.” Digby replied, rolling his eyes. 

“But that’s not true, is it Miss Montague?”

You gasped dramatically at the young boy, folding your arms.

“It very much is, Digby. Secrets have a nasty habit of catching themselves on all the dirt behind your ears. I clean behind mine morning and night. That's why I know you missed me twice every Saturday since I’ve been gone.”

Frannie giggled at her brother's blush, your smile stately yet smug as you clapped your hands once more.

“Two minutes precisely while brushing those teeth, you two. Then off we pop to bed.”

You headed out of the bathroom, expertly scooping up an abandoned teddy bear, likely Frannies, and placing him upon the lid of the toy chest at the end of her bed. You reached for the windows, fluffing the drapes and getting ready to close them for the night. You glanced at the clock, pressing your lips together in disappointment. It was almost nine. The Master had yet to show up. You supposed you shouldn’t have hoped he would. After all, you weren’t exactly together anymore. But after the events of last night, you weren't as confident in your decision as you were when you initially made it. 

Returning to the drapes, you stared out of the window and gasped. The Master was there, down in the courtyard, crouched over the pond and inspecting it curiously. He was wearing his top hat once again- you hated to admit just how much you liked that look on him. Tapping against the glass, the Master glanced up from the pond at the sound, the TCE in hand. You could see his furrowed brow ease into a much gentler expression through the spotlight of the window lamp, the timelord standing up fully and stepping onto the lip of the pond. You waved gently, your heart racing. Miraculously, the Master waved back, the same level of awkwardness in his fingertips as your own. 

You gestured with your head towards the house, and when his furrowed brow returned, you signalled for him to come in with your hands. You nibbled on your bottom lip nervously as he turned around, likely muttering an excuse to himself that he could use to leave. You expected a cross, or a line across the throat, or a simple shake of the head. Any reason for him to not come in and help, simply satiating his own morbid curiosity. But when he turned around and gestured five with his hand, you felt your stomach flip and spin with joy. You smiled, closing the curtains and turning back to the children as they clambered into bed, dusting down your dress as you sat down.

“Am I going to have the nightmare again tonight?” Frannie asked softly. You smiled, shaking your head as you grasped hold of her rescued teddy bear, placing it in her lap.

“Absolutely not. Because I’m going to tell you a story.”

“Is this another ‘absolutely true’ story?” Digby questioned, grinning cheekily.

“Like the fact you travelled through time?”

“Of course,” You replied. “Accounting for my excellent time keeping and knowledge of the world.”

“And that you’ve been to space?” Frannie continued.

“Because I’d already been everywhere on earth.” You grinned, tucking the children into their beds.

“No, this story is about a man called the Master. He lives on a cloud, in the sky, and he’s my very special friend.”

“What’s he the Master of?” Digby asked. You chuckled to yourself.

“If you ask him, he’s the Master of everything. And he has this special power where if you look into his eyes, he can make you do whatever he says. He could make you tidy your room, or do your homework-”

“Or cluck like a chicken?” Frannie smiled. “I’ve seen somebody do that before. He was a hypnotist on stage.”

“Exactly.” You continued. “But he made a promise to me, long ago, that if I needed any help from monsters, he would come.”

“But monsters aren’t real.” Digby argued. You raised an eyebrow.

“What did I say about my stories, Digby? They are all very, very true.”

“But what about my nightmares?” Frannie asked sadly. You took her hand and nodded.

“Like I said, he made me a promise. And I think a little girl having nightmares on Christmas eve is very monstrous indeed. So, I asked him to help.”

Your eye was suddenly caught by the bellowing of the candle flame, the floorboards in the hallway squeaking as if under the strain of footsteps.

“In fact I think he’s right here. Come meet my young friends, Master!” You called, the door to the bedroom creaking open.

You waited with a hopeful smile, your heart fluttering, when all of a sudden a shrieking voice came into the room.

“THE CHILDREN HAVE BEEN VERY NAUGHTY!”

The Ice Governess screamed, her face cracking, teeth of ice bared. 

“Oh, shit!” You screamed, the children squealing in fear as you instinctively pulled them behind you, spreading your arms wide.

“Get back, get away from her!” You yelled, Frannie desperately shoving her face into your arm.

“NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY CHILDREN!”

She shrieked, Digby clinging onto your dress for dear life.

“What are we going to do?!” He cried in fear. You turned your eye towards the door, the Ice Governess creeping closer and closer.

“RUN! NOW!” you ordered, the children dropping their teddy bears in fear as you pulled them across the landing and into the children's play room, the floor full of toys and tables full of drawings. You locked the door behind you, rushing over to Frannie’s side and grasping her face in your hands.

“Frannie, listen to me, you have to picture her melting!”

“What?”

“In your head! Picture her melting into water, think it in your head!”

“Miss Montague!” Digby cried, just as the Governess slammed through the locked door and came slinking into the room.

“NAUGHTY CHILDREN MUST BE PUNISHED!” she hissed, swiping at the children with her claws as you pushed them further behind your back.

“What about your friend! The hypnotist man!”

Digby asked, clutching your arm in terror as you backed away from the Ice woman.

“I don’t know!”

“The man on the cloud! Your special friend!”

“Where’s the Master?!” Frannie joined in, shrinking behind your back and sobbing.

All of a sudden, thunderous footsteps came up the stairs, the blur of a figure in the doorway clouded by the Ice Governesses towering stature. There came a familiar, violent ZAP sound, and before your eyes the now cracking Ice Governess gave an agonised roar before exploding into a mass of powdered ice. You shielded your face as best you could, the children cowering in shock. Blinking away the shattered ice, you turned your head to stare in awe. 

Standing in the doorway in all his glory was the Master, TCE raised with pride in his hand, a familiar smug smile on his face.

Even though he was now top hatless- it was very good to see him.

“Miss me?” He asked charmingly, and you rolled your eyes.

“Always just in the nick of time, never before.” You teased, brushing the shards of ice from your dress.

“Where’s the fun in that? And I did say five minutes, technically I'm early.”

“Are you Miss Montague's special friend?” Digby asked hesitantly. 

“Are you the Master?”

“Special friend?” The Master asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Your face flushed a deep red.

“Oh, Miss Montague, what have you been telling these dear children?”

“Are you really able to look into people's eyes and tell them what to do?” Digby continued, staring at the TCE in the Master's hands. The Master was truly smirking now, turning to look in Digby's eyes. 

“Oh yes, I could. I could make you do anything I’d like if you look too close.”

Digby gasped and turned away, all while Frannie stepped closer to the Master.

“Is she really gone?” She asked timidly. “Where is she? Is she going to come back?”

The Master shrugged, reading the TCE as it whirred quietly. You peered over her shoulder, trying to see the readings yourself.

“Not likely, she’s currently draining through your carpet. I’d get it checked for mould after.”

“Why did she explode?” You asked, your hand on Frannie’s shoulder.

“New setting I need to worry about? Tissue expansion?”

The Master smirked, standing to meet your gaze.

“It just doesn’t do water. I still can’t figure out why. That’s a good idea, though, but I really wouldn’t Google it. Oh, and you’re welcome, by the way.”

You shuffled awkwardly, nodding at the Master's words.

“I wanted to get all my questions out before I thanked you. But I am really grateful, y’know. Even though I did know you’d help.”

Suddenly, the Master's face fell. He leant in closer, glaring at you with a forced fury.

“No, you didn’t. In case you’re forgetting, love, I'm not the Doctor. I don’t go around helping children and saving Christmas and granting bloody wishes. That’s not what I do. And, need I remind you, I was already investigating the snow. So you just got lucky that I happened to be here, TCE at the ready-”

The Master glanced downwards, ready to slide the device into his pocket, when he suddenly caught a shimmer of gold. Upon his ring finger once more sat his wedding band, just where it used to be. 

He twisted the ring gently, the rage instantly melting from his face.

“Oh…” He whispered to himself. 

You followed his eyes, your attention pulled from the children who’d begun to stare out of the window, the edges of the glass beginning to seal with frost. Outside, a dusting of snow began to fall, the green grass disappearing under a blanket of white. They gasped as tall snowmen began to slowly grow out of the freshly fallen snow, all the while you’d stepped even closer to the Master.

“Is everything ok?” You asked quietly, looking down at his ring. You took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Oh…” You also said. The Master nodded strangely, tilting his head.

“I um, didn’t know I’d put it on.” He said, looking up and truly meeting your eyes for the first time that evening, all bravado set aside.

“Oh… ok…” You replied.

“I think my mind just went… y’know.”

“Yeah.”

“Force of habit.”

“Absolutely.”

“Miss Montague! Master!”

The children cried in unison, pulling themselves from the window and tugging at both of your arms.

“She’s coming back!” Digby yelled.

“She’s going to punish me!” Frannie sobbed.

“Master, what do we do?!” You asked, all the while the Master was frantically trying to mess around with the settings on the TCE. Slowly, the mass beneath the carpet began to grow larger, the painful crunch of ice echoing through the dark and chilly room, the figure shifting and twitching as the Ice Governess began to build herself back up.

“Well, she’s learned to resist melting, so that’s interesting.”

“How’s she done that?!”

“It’s not really a she, more of a thing, really.” The Master corrected, clapping a hand on the shoulder of each child.

“She’s not going to punish you, Frannie, that’s ridiculous. She’s not a Governess, she’s a monster. So really, she’s going to eat you.”

You gaped at the creature, the governess shrugging off the remains of the carpet and swiping violently towards your face.

“Run!” You yelled, grasping the hands of Frannie and Digby’s hands and pulling them down the stairs. The Master followed, slamming the playroom door behind him and heading behind you down the stairs. On the bottom floor of the house, the maid was running in a frenzy, screaming about snowmen in the garden and a strange man at the door. Captain Latimer had stormed out of his study, eyebrows furrowed and furious as he waited at the bottom of the stairs.

“Miss Montague, what on earth do you think you’re doing? Would you care to explain why the children are out of bed at such an hour- who the devil are you?!”

You turned around to see the Master stomping down the steps, sliding past you and bracing hold of the bannister. He stared deep into Captain Latimer's eyes, his gaze piercing deep into the man's mind, his voice loud and clear. Captain Later froze in place, transfixed at the Masters gaze. He couldn't pull away even if he wanted to.

“I am the Master, and you will obey me. Take your screaming maid and your children into the parlour, lock the doors and keep an eye on the snowmen outside. Under no circumstances are any of you to leave that room until I say so. Oh, and you’ll stop relying on my wife to parent your children when you can’t be bothered to, and you’ll put more effort into your children. Understood?”

The blush returned to your face once more as the Captain followed his orders, the Master's hypnotic suggestion the only thing he now knew. Digby clapped his hands together as you ushered the children into the room, staring at the Master with mesmerised eyes.

“Did you use your hypnosis powers on my father?”

“Yes, Digby, he did.” You answered, not trusting the answer the Master was about to give.

“And did he call you his wife?” Frannie asked, causing your blush to further deepen and your heart to race at lightning speed.

“Yes, he did that too. But you need to listen to what he said. Don’t leave that room, not even for a second. Those snowmen outside are very dangerous, and I don’t want either of you to be hurt by them or the Ice lady. Promise me?”

The Latimer children nodded quickly, Digby turning to look at the Master once again, who was anticipating the return of the distantly screaming Ice Governess.

“Can you make him cluck like a chicken too?”

“Not the time!” You interjected, Once again not trusting the Master’s answer, even with his confused expression. Once everybody was inside, the Master gripped the top of your arm.

“Stay here with them.”

He ordered, before letting go once more. The Master headed back into the hallway, and you were hot on his heels. You watched as the Master pressed a button on the TCE, aiming it at the top of the stairs as the Ice Governess came thundering down them. A shuddering wall of red energy blasted into existence, creating a barrier between the Ice Governess and the bottom of the staircase, the frozen creature slamming itself against the wall and hissing.

“MISS ME!?” It shrieked, staring down at the Master.

“How long will that hold?” You asked, and the Master turned around in shock.

“Oi, do I have to hypnotise you too? I told you to stay inside.”

“Oh, well I didn’t listen.”

“You really enjoy disobeying me, don’t you dear?”

You smiled fondly, the gap between the pair of you closing faster and faster.

“Yeah, I do. It’s one of the things that make you love me.”

“Oh, is it really?”

“Afraid so, Master.”

“Who said I love you?”

The gap between you both was non existent. You met each others eyes, your own heart pounding at lightning speed, your breath caught in your throat as stared the Master down, each of you daring the other to move first. The Masters lips parted, and you instantly took your chance, colliding your lips together as your hands reached to grasp hold of his face. The Master sank into the kiss with no restraint, quickly taking charge as his hands reached to grasp hold of your corseted waist. He pushed his lips against your own, your noses slotting next to each other to close the distance even further. All the while, the Ice Governess shrieked and slammed her face into the wall, the breath escaping from your lungs as you poured every part of your soul into the Master's touch. But soon you needed air, your lips breaking from one another but your touch remaining strong. You stared at the Master, and the Timelord returned the gaze, the silence between you thick and unbearable as your foreheads stayed pushed together.

“I keep my ring on a chain and wear it everyday.” You blurted, your cheeks burning hot. The Master smiled, chuckling softly as he brushed the hair from your face. He always did that. You loved him doing that.

“Of course you did.” He teased, “You always were so sentimental, love.”

“I just couldn’t, I don’t know why-”

“I know.” The Master said, rather softly. “I-”

Suddenly, the front door bell rang once again, the ringing invasive and persistent. The Master scowled, his hands pulling themselves from your waist as he clenched his hands into fists, his fingers still curled around the TCE in his grasp. He always hated being interrupted. This time was no different. He stormed towards the doorway, shoulders pushing back, his chin raised high. This time you hung back, watching from a distance, the Ice lady still screaming from her spot at the top of the stairs. 

The Master swung the door open, his glare palpable as a stranger stood in the doorway. A stranger to you, perhaps, but the Master seemed to know him well. Well enough for the tension to feel worthy of cutting with a sword, let alone a knife.

“Release the Ice woman to us.” The stranger said, his face solemn and eyes full of determination.

“You have five minutes.”

The stranger turned away with no further word, and the Master slammed the door shut with a furious heave.

“Who was that?” You asked hurriedly, following the Master as he headed towards the bottom of the stairs.

“Doctor Simeon. A very old enemy of the Doctor. And now, a very new enemy of mine. I don’t think he’s keen to be business partners anymore.”

“Why, what did you do?”

The Master smiled weakly, scratching at the back of his neck.

“I may have, possibly… turned up at his house, killed all his staff, and ransacked his personal files while insulting him to his face.”

“Wonderful.”

“All while dressed up as Sherlock Holmes.”

“I’m sure- what? Why?”

“What?”

“Why did you dress up as Sherlock Holmes?”

“Because I was investigating! We’d already had a bit of a disagreement earlier, I needed a suitable disguise.”

“But Sherlock Holmes? Really?”

The Master threw his hands in the air, exasperated. You could hardly contain your smirk.

“Who else? It’s the nineteenth century, for god’s sake. I couldn’t exactly go as Batman or Scooby bloody Doo, could I?”

The Master turned back to the bottom of the staircase, glancing up at the Ice Governess. She was still shrieking, slamming herself into the energy wall, hissing and baring her fangs. You blinked away all previous confusion, following the Master’s gaze.

“Right. All that aside, explain him to me- he wants the ice woman?”

“No, the snow wants the ice woman. He’s just the one working with the snow. And we need to keep her away from them or else.”

“I’m hoping you have a plan.”

The Master rolled his eyes, snatching an umbrella from the umbrella stand and lightly hitting you on the head with it. You gaped with confusion, your hands instinctively reaching out to take the umbrella from the Master's hands, turning your attention back to the Ice Governess.

“If the snow gets ahold of her, it’s goodbye to you lot. She’s the perfect blueprint for the snow in human form, human DNA mixed with Ice. You can’t exactly take over the earth with hunks of wet mush, can you? Imagine the carnage during a heat wave. But a humanoid figure, made of ice, that won’t melt? Oh, you could work such magic.`”

“She can’t stay here, then.” You argued. “Not with the children in the house, we’ll all be massacred.”

“As long as she’s out, but away from the snow, nobody’s getting massacred. I need you to stay in the parlour, watch the snow and for once, do as you’re told.”

The Master said, raising the TCE to the shimmering red wall. The wall disappeared into nothingness, shuddering out of existence. You stepped up to join the Masters side just as he pointed the TCE behind him once more, the shimmering wall reappearing at the very bottom of the stairs. The Masters double take was almost comical, his eyes rolling deeply into his head as he stared at you expectantly.

“Seriously?!” He asked, but you didn’t have time to reply. The ice lady swung at your head, causing you to duck beneath her arm, and the Master's hand clasped hold of your own in an ironclad grip.

“MISS ME?!” The Ice Governess screamed, the Master charging up the stairs and dragging you along with him.

“Why don’t you ever listen?” He yelled, almost tripping over the top step.

“Because you always tell me to do stuff I don’t want to do!” You replied, almost tripping over the same step right afterwards.  The Master stopped on the landing, staring at you incredulously as he dropped your hand.

“Oh great, we’re back together two seconds and there’s already a row.”

“We’re what?!” You asked, startled, the Ice Governess close behind.

“MISS ME?!” She hissed again, swiping up the stairs.

“Ok, why does she keep doing that?”

“Mirroring, it’s random mimicry- we need to get on the roof!”

“THIS WAY!”

You grasped the Master's hand once again, dragging him up a second flight of stairs towards the third floor, the Master flailing behind as he resisted the tug of your arm. You pivoted on the landing, pointing wildly at the distant reading nook beneath the large stained glass window.

“That window!”

“Give!” He gestured to the umbrella, which you had no idea you were still holding onto. You threw it in his direction and the Master grabbed it with ease. He headed straight towards the window, clunkily clambering his way through the open glass and planting his feet on the small area of flat roofing between the two gables. You attempted to follow, climbing onto the bench and leaning through the open pane of glass, when you felt your dress bunch up at the side and snag upon the hinges. You tried to pull yourself free, yanking against the resistance, all to no avail. You let out a panicked whine, and the Master spun around in confusion.

“Oi, c’mon, what are you doing?”

“My bustle is stuck!” You replied, yanking harder on the side of the window and sending the Master a panicked expression. 

“Oh, for crying out loud!” The Master rolled his eyes, running over to the window and throwing his arms around your waist and yanking backwards. With two yanks you were pulled free, gravity snatching command of your body as you tumbled forwards on top of the Masters chest, the Timelord ending up flat on his back on top of the snow coated roof.

You gaped down at him, the familiar heat of your blush returning.

“Y’know, things would go so much smoother if you took that dress off.” The Master suggested, his hand resting on the small of your back. You gasped, pulling away and sending him a curious expression.

“And risk me catching my death for your amusement?”

“I’d find it more attractive than amusing, honestly.”

“Right, hold on, I'm so confused.” Raising yourself to stand, you pushed off from the Masters chest. The Timelord stood up, watching as you brushed down your dress and snatched the umbrella from his grasp.

“First you tell me the only reason you’re here is because I got lucky, then you call me your wife again, then you tell me to stay away, then you kiss me and start flirting again.”

“Now?!” The Master yelled, eyes wide.

“You want to discuss all this right now?!”

“Because this is another test, I can feel it! You’re testing me!” You yelled back, gesturing wildly with the umbrella.

“Am I really!?”

“Yes! You’re always playing mind games. This is a test!”

“MISS ME?!” The Ice Governess was once more at the window, growling and snarling with her razor sharp icicle teeth.

“Master, now would be a great time for that plan!”

“Why would I tell you if it’s a test?”

You stared at him in disbelief, eyes widening.

“What?!”

The Master shrugged, folding his arms across his chest.

“If you think this is a test, it’s a test. You think I've got a plan, tell me what it is.”

“What’ll happen if I fail?”

“Well, it’ll kill you, and I'll end up wasting another body.”

“Not good then.”

“Understatement of the century, love. C’mon, do I have a plan?”

The Ice Governess had begun to disappear through the window into a cloud of ice shards, rematerializing herself from the ground up on the roof top, rebuilding herself shard by shard. You looked back towards the Master who was waiting expectantly. You put your mind into action. There had to be clues, you could figure out exactly what he was testing you on. Your chest was pounding as you thought hard, the Masters watching eyes heavy as you slowly began to piece everything together.

“Less than thirty seconds, love. I suggest you hurry or we’ll be dead where we stand.”

Stand. That was it! Where you stand! The lightbulb had officially gone off in your brain.

“If we wanted to escape we’d have gone either down the building or through the back door.”

“Interesting-”

“And if we wanted to hide, we’d be on the other side of the roof.”

“Keep going-”

“But we decided to climb here. Small space, not much room for a run up. But we brought THIS!”

You gestured with the umbrella once again, the Master grinning with devious pride as you swung the umbrella into the sky, the handle hooking itself firmly onto the bottom rung of the ladder. With a grunt you yanked the ladder down to plant its feet on the top of the building, the metal legs sinking into the snow as you brandished the ladder with pride. The Ice Governess had almost completely reassembled herself, the gust of frozen wind floating dangerously through the air.

“Call for a TARDIS?”

The Master hummed triumphantly. 

“Never doubted you for a second.”

“After you.”

“No, after you, I insist.”

You grasped hold of the ladder, laughing at the Master's ever growing grin.

“After you, I’m wearing a dress!”

“Why do you think I’m insisting you first?”

“Master, get up that ladder before I hit you with this umbrella.”

The Master chuckled, grasping hold of the rungs of the ladder and beginning the ascending climb. You watched him creep up higher and higher, tilting your head and smiling as you watched from beneath.

“Those pants do wonders for your ass, Master.”

The Masters ascent paused upon the ladder, his head turning over his shoulder to face you with a scandalised expression.

“Miss Montague, a little professionalism!”

“Never.” You stuck out your tongue in return. The Ice Governess had assumed her full form once again, letting out a beastly howl as she began to shuffle across the roof. With an elegant hop you stood upon the bottom rung of the ladder, clearing your throat and smiling sweetly.

“Termination of life comes with termination of employment, I'm afraid. Check your contract.” You mused, the Ice Governess snarling.

“In other words, get your own job. Cheerio!”

The umbrella tapped twice against the ladder, and you began to ascend up into the skies, the feet of the ladder disturbing the snow once again. The Ice Governess swiped furiously at your feet, growling into the air as you followed the ladder to the very top of the metal platform. The Master's hands were there to catch you, yanking you from the top of the top of the ladder and dragging you towards the base of the grand, spiralling staircase.

“Wait, you can move the cloud?” 

You asked, peering over the railing and watching the Ice Governess squirm. The Master shook his head, pulling you further towards the stairs and hooking the umbrella upon the closest railing.

“Don’t be ridiculous, nobody can move clouds. Anyone who says they can is a liar.”

“But what about the Cyber rain? Missy did it.”

The Master turned his head, visible debate on his face.

“They were Cyber clouds. Totally different. Real clouds? Not a chance. But the wind? Ever so slightly.”

The metal platform suddenly began to jolt, and you grabbed hold of the railing to steady yourself. In the few moments you’d taken your eyes off the Ice Governess, she’d managed to climb onto the ladder and begin scaling each rung. You looked at the Master in fear, the timelord nodding in agreement with something totally unknown.

“Good, she’s following us! Up we go!”

“Why is that a good thing?!” You called after him, the Master already scaling the steps like a madman.

“There’s no snow where we’re going!”

The two of you launched into a full sprint, keeping a tight grip on the bannister to stop yourself from tripping up on either the steps, your dress, or the Masters feet ahead of you. The Ice Governess was almost to the top of her own ladder, the view of London below becoming more and more incredible with each step you took. It was like the city was alive, glowing under the light of street lamps and fires, the denizens keeping as warm as they could on such a cold Christmas eve. You could see the pub from this high, not like anyone below would be able to see you.

“So, how long have you been a governess?” The Master asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Oh, not long. A few months?” You replied.

“But you moonlight as a barmaid in a shitty pub?”

“You want to have this chat now?” You asked, mirroring the Master's early sentiment. The Master paused on the stairs, turning his body to face you.

“We can’t chat if we’ve been massacred, can we?”

“You said there’d be no massacre!”

“It was a rare bit of positive optimism on my part, hope you don’t mind.”

You swiftly returned to your ascent, suddenly noticing you’d scaled about 100 steps in a few seconds. You gaped at the skyline, everything around you looking like a miniature model, something the Master would happily display upon one of his many shelves. How could you have possibly gotten so high so quickly?

“I’m barely out of breath!” You called.

“Good, glad to know you’re keeping fit.”

“But how are we so high? We were barely off the ground!”

“Magic staircase.” The Master replied, making you groan.

“Hey, I could’ve said it’s taller on the inside, count your blessings.”

“What exactly is it we’re standing on?” You asked, stepping onto the cloud with far more ease than you did the first time.

 The Master crouched down, sticking his head through the layer of cloud before pulling himself back up again. He pulled the TCE from his pocket with ease, aiming it at the mouth of the staircase. You peered over his shoulder as the layer of cloud began to converge, collecting itself over the beginning of the staircase, forming a protective layer and sealing the entrance to the stairs shut.

“The same technology that kept her on the stairs. Super dense water vapour, that’ll keep her out for a while.”

The Master stood, slipping the TCE back inside his pocket and cracking his knuckles. The TARDIS loomed in the distance, gleaming even with her dirty exterior, a monument on the top of the cloud layer. The Master shoved his hands in his pockets, stepping up the porch steps and pushing open the door to the shack, wandering inside the TARDIS without a care in the world. But you held back, looking through the open doorway, the red glow of the central console looming through the dark of the porch.

 You waited, standing in conflict, your heart pounding a hole in your chest as your gut attempted to dig itself into the centre of the earth. After all this time, a part of you didn’t want to see the inside of the old girl. You didn’t want to know if he’d erased all signs of you. You didn’t want to know if he’d tried to move on.

The Master reemerged from the inside, staring at you curiously. He stood in the doorway, a barrier to the internal glow of the ship. He studied your expression carefully, watching the internal conflict play out with every single microexpression upon the face he’d memorised so well.

“You said if I walked out that door I'd never step foot inside again.” 

Your words broke the silence. The Master nodded, swallowing the lump that had attempted to take refuge within his throat.

“I did. If I recall, I was pretty angry at the time.”

“So was I. You were a bit of a-”

“Short fuse, yeah.” The Master finished. 

You gave a small laugh, a faint sound that bled into the wind. You stood in a deafening silence for what felt like eternity, until the Master softly jutted his head to the side.

“C’mon.” He said quietly. He was inviting you inside. Finally.

You took no time in crossing over towards the porch, the Master stepping inside the TARDIS, allowing you to follow. You stepped over the threshold, feeling the wave of warmth hit your skin, like the heat when you step off an aeroplane. It was tropical compared to outside, the console room still as eclectically cluttered as ever. The piles of previous interests, the posters, the mementos, the projects, the plans. The TARDIS was exactly the same as the day you’d left it. The walls of the ship began to hum, the engines whining and whirring, chirping a welcome. She was obviously glad you were back. She was proclaiming you were home.

“You should’ve heard her last night.” The Master said, leaning against the hexagonal console unit, the square time rotor buzzing with lights.

“I thought she’d blown an engine.”

“You haven’t changed a thing.” You replied. The Master nodded, following your gaze as you admired the walls around you. You spotted a large investigation board in the corner, a small smile crossing your lips. You knew he’d have one of those. Even if it didn’t have-

“I thought the red thread would be a bit much.” The Master said, finishing your thought. You turned to face the Time lord. He’d pushed himself from the console and was now standing in front of you, studying your eyes once more.

“It would’ve been fun.” You replied.

“I would’ve insisted. If I'd been here when you’d put it up.”

“You can be here now, if you want.”

The Master's reply caught you off guard. You felt your lips part, your tongue trying to find the words your brain was currently mixing into an incomprehensible soup. You fought to string together a sentence that could encompass everything you felt, every question you had, every thought that was crossing your mind. Something that would explain everything.

“Why did you stay?” Was the sentence that won.

“You had the TARDIS. You could have left me here, gone off back into the universe, gone back to harassing the Doctor and causing chaos. But you didn’t. You built yourself a magic staircase and a movable cloud, and you stayed. Why?”

The Master pressed his lips into a thin line, and you could tell his mind was attempting the same brew. You could always tell when the Master was thinking and masking his thoughts at the same time, his eyes would squint ever so slightly, his lips would part like he was waiting to announce whatever plan he’d concocted. Instead of a grand plan, a small, earnest smile spread itself across the Master's face. 

“Because I couldn’t leave.” He said in return.

“But you could.”

“No, I couldn’t. I really tried. I left for a day. Right after you’d left, I tried to take myself away. I went and watched a planet burn, some insignificant micro nation. I tried to enjoy their armageddon, I really did. But I couldn’t.”

“Why?” You asked softly. The Master tilted his head, his look practically begging you to figure out the obvious, his mouth unwilling to articulate the thought he was so desperate not to share. You stepped closer, realisation washing over you.

“Because… I wasn’t there?”

“What fun is performing with no audience? Spreading chaos, with nobody there to help?” The Master asked. You already knew the answer.

“I came back, hoping you’d see the error of your judgement and want to come back here, work it all out. But… I might have underestimated your stubbornness.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Or, maybe I was a little too… cruel. Then, things started happening. Alien, evil things and you know me, never one to let a good bit of chaos go. It was pretty tempting, ending the world at the turn of the twentieth century. But once again, I couldn’t enjoy myself.”

“And because you were bored, you decided to… try and save Earth?”

The Master shook his head awkwardly.

“I like to call it… preserving certain important timelines. I am a Timelord, after all.”

“Hold on.” You said, the small smile upon your face slowly growing into a full grin.

“Preserving timelines? You’ve never cared about the laws of time, that’s your whole thing. Who’s timeline could you possibly care that much about?”

The Masters' all knowing gaze returned, and you felt the knot in your stomach explode into a colony of butterflies. You stepped even closer, your hand reaching to cup the Masters cheek. His skin was warm against your palm. The touch sent a surge of electricity though your skin.

“Master?..” You asked softly. 

“Did you turn down destroying the Earth because It would mean I didn’t exist anymore?”

The Master's lips pressed into a thin line, his stare able to see a thousand yards in front. You could feel the heat burning in his cheeks, every ounce of him squirming with uncomfortable realisation, his shoulders almost reaching his ears.

“That… may or may not have been a factor.” He lied through his teeth.

“You old romantic.”

You laughed softly, reaching to grasp the other side of his face and pull him into a kiss. This kiss was much softer, every word the pair of you had been desperate to say spreading across your lips. The Masters tension disappeared with every second, your foreheads pushing together as you felt your heart finally steady into an easy rhythm. His hands had snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, refusing to let you go. You could sense the warmth he held within his body pass into your own, everything slotting into place exactly where it should be. Everybody slotting into place exactly where they should. When he finally pulled away from your lips, the Master refused to stop. Pressing small, chaste kisses to the side of your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut. Everything felt right again, like the itch you’d been struggling to scratch had been satiated. Like you were home again.

“Travel with me.” The Master whispered between pecks.

“Run away with me. Stay with me.”

Softly, you nodded against his touch, returning his soft kisses with one of your own.

“Yes.” You replied. The Master sighed in content, pulling his face from your own and pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I still have your shawl, by the way.” He admitted. You gave a short giggle.

“Thankyou for keeping it safe for me. Next time I have to sneak around, I’ll make sure not to lose any of my disguise.”

“Don’t worry, I think I left my Deerstalker in Doctor Simeon’s office.”

You smiled, watching him excitedly pull away from your person, circling around to the console and fiddling with the buttons and levers, the TARDIS chirping and lighting up with jubilation. 

“Oh love, we’re going to have so much fun. You’ll see. So many places to go!”

You felt yourself fiddling with the chain under your dress, your fingers scratching at the chain that hung loosely around your neck. You pulled it from under your collar, the ring shimmering in the TARDIS light, your heart feeling like it could burst with joy out of your chest. You’d kept it with you for so long, unwilling to part with the most beautiful piece of jewellery you’d ever seen. Reaching for the lobster clasp, you pulled the chain from your neck, the Masters exuberant ramblings a distant sound as you admired the glittering wedding ring. You needed to ask him to put it back on. You needed to do it correctly.

Suddenly, you felt yourself jolting backwards, the ring flying from your grasp and clattering onto the floor. You let out a shocked yelp, the freezing touch of clawed hands wrapped under your shoulders, dragging you back towards the door and out of the TARDIS.

“MISS ME?!” the voice behind you squawked, your eyes widening with fear.

The Master's head shot up from the console, his eyes equally widening in horror as he saw the Ice Governess begin to drag you back towards the edge of the cloud.

“NO!” he shouted, launching himself towards the door, his TCE raised and aimed at the snarling creature of ice.

“Master!” You cried, hand reaching towards the Timelord.

“Get off of me!”

“Let her go!”

The Ice Governess hissed, yanking you harder, your fingers desperately trying to pry her claws from their spot digging into your shoulder.

“The snow learns, I should have realised-” The Master hurriedly uttered. “She’d learnt to resist water vapour after being trapped on the stairs. Let her go!”

“Get off!” You pleaded, your face contorted in fear as you saw the Ice Governess teetering near the edge of the cloud.

“Let her go. Let her go now! NOW!”

“Master!” You cried, mouth parting in a terrified scream.

“NO, Y/N-” the Master yelled, his hand outstretched. If he could just grab hold of you, if he could just pull you back- but the ground disappeared from beneath your feet before he could reach. You felt the wind rushing past your ears as you tumbled to the ground, the distant call of the Master screaming your name. Everything seemed to slow down, the London skyline consuming you as you fell faster and faster, your life flashing before your eyes. Every happy thought, every fear, every nightmare, every dream- every part of you flickered across the forefront of your mind, arm still stretched to the heavens as you collided with the snow covered earth, the world around you disappearing with the wheeze of the TARDIS as the abyss swallowed you whole.

It was a low light that surrounded you the first time you woke again. The soft touch of a palm on your forehead, the gentle caress of a thumb on the back of your hands. Your eyes blinked open, the pain in your head a throbbing percussion, your sense of time thrown to the wayside. But the Master was there, waiting for you, smiling gently as you slowly became acclimated to the familiar sight of the Latimer parlour.

“How’s your head?” The Master asked. 

You turned your head to see Frannie and Digby hugging the maid with a tight grip. You shook your head with a smile.

“Not in front of the children, Master.” You replied, every word as painful as they were cathartic.

“Am I going to die?” You asked. The Master laughed softly.

“Such a mood killer. I was going to keep it light with innuendo and small talk.”

“You never talk small.” You wheezed. The Master grinned.

“See, you still have all your memories. I think you’ll be just fine.”

“How do you know?”

Reaching into his top pocket, the Master produced something shimmering, even in the dark of the parlour. On close inspection you could see it was your ring, having slipped off of the chain after hitting the floor.

“Because I haven’t put this back on your finger. And I'm very persistent when I want things to be done.”

The Master took hold of your hand, ready to slip the ring onto your finger, when your other hand stopped him from doing so.

“You haven’t asked me.” You whispered. “You need to ask me before you put that on.”

The Master huffed lightly out of his nose, leaning in closer and holding up the ring.

“Y/N, will you marry me… again?”

You blinked softly, staring longingly at the ring.

“Are you going to stop the world from ending?” You replied, the Master raising an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected that response.

“Preserving the timelines… and all that?”

The Master nodded, finally understanding.

“Maybe. If I do, will you say yes?”

You took the ring from the Masters fingers, clutching the small band between your trembling fingers and holding it longingly within your palm.

“Go save the world, help children, grant Christmas wishes.” You ordered, the Master chuckling at his own words from earlier.

“If you win, I’ll still be here to give you an answer when you get back.”

The Master leaned in closer still, your noses almost touching.

“Is that a promise?”

He asked. You smiled, lifting your finger to draw two crosses over the Masters chest.

“Cross your hearts.”

“You’re supposed to cross your own, Love.” The Master said. You shook your head the best you could.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Master.” You replied, before your eyes fluttered shut once again, the feeling of the Masters lips on your forehead the last sensation in your mind.

The Master returned once more that evening. The cuts and bruises upon his body had managed to heal, leaving behind traces of crimson and memories intangible. He’d worked as fast as he could, defeating the evil with everything he had. He’d returned to the Latimer household just before midnight. But by then you were almost gone. Whatever he’d done to keep you stable had done all it could, and now you were in your final moments.

 The children were crying, the same tears that had melted the snow minutes before. The Master walked towards the Captain, meeting his eyes and taking control.

“You’re going to stand up, and you’re going to comfort your children. You’ll be the father they need right now. When you go to bed, you’ll wake tomorrow and not remember a thing. But you’ll be there when they need you.” He commanded, the Captain blinking as if waking up from the strangest of dreams. 

The Master stepped over the old carpet to stand by your bedside, crouching down to rest his chin on his arms, looking over at the Latimer children who were tearfully looking right back.

“Is she?...” Digby daren’t finish his question. The Master sighed.

“Almost.” 

Frannie let out a small sob, her fathers arms surrounding her as best they could. Which, thanks to the Master, was the best they’d ever been. In their eyes, he saw utter heartbreak. Two children, who’s cries had unknowingly saved the day, sobbing over the one human the Master could bring himself to care for. Pushing aside every piece of hatred he had for humans, and crying, he knew what he had to do.

“Tell me about her.” The Master said. “Tell me about Miss Montague.”

Digby wiped his eyes with his sleeve, looking at the Master with a sniffle.

“She was kind. She always told us stories… totally true ones.”

“What stories did she tell you?” He replied. Digby smiled weakly.

“That she’d been to space.” Frannie mumbled against her fathers chest.

“She said she’d been to every country in the world.”

“And that she lived in a time machine that could take her anywhere she liked, and that she’d fought monsters and robots and met aliens. But I know that it wasn’t true.”

The Master chuckled, smiling at the young boy. How foolish. How human. How wonderfully presumptuous.

“Oh, but it is.” He replied. “Every story’s true. Your governess is really a time traveller. She’s really my wife, and we live in a ship called the TARDIS. And guess what?”

“What?” The two children asked. The Master's smile widened.

“I’m an alien.”

“No way.” Digby whispered in disbelief. The Master nodded, chuckling.

“Yes way, Digby. I’m from a distant planet in the stars. I have two hearts, and I'm nearly 2000 years old.”

“But you don’t look old.” Frannie said. The Master smirked.

“I’ve got a good Doctor.” He said, a joke only he would understand.

“She told you about my ability to hypnotise people, but I also have a power that keeps me alive. It’s a power that means every time I get hurt, I can fix it. See?” The master pointed to the ghost of a cut on his forehead. All that was left was a dribble of dried blood. The wound was completely healed.

“But sometimes, I get hurt pretty badly. Or I get really, really old. Then I have to change my entire body. I may act a little differently, but I’m still me. It’s called regeneration.”

“Is Miss Montague an alien?” Digby asked softly. The Master chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, Digby. Just me.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Frannie asked, sitting up in the Captain's arms.

The Master stood over your bedside, your chest rising and falling in only the faintest rhythm. He pushed the hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear and brushing down the side of your face. He turned once more to look at the Latimer children, raising his right hand lightly in the air.

“Because, humans, I'm about to do something incredible. And nobody will ever believe you.”

Ever so slowly, the Master began to wiggle his fingertips, his eyes fluttering shut as he concentrated hard. The children watched in wonder as the Master's hand began to be engulfed in a glittering, golden glow, the ethereal shimmer floating into the air and travelling down the Timelords arm. He gave a small grunt as the regeneration energy began to shimmer through his other hand, the energy coursing through his body like the warm kiss of the sun, the heat touching every part of his body as he focused desperately on what he needed to do. The Master leant down towards your face, his glowing hands taking soft purchase of your cheeks, the once silent room alight with the hum of regeneration. 

“You better have a good answer for me after this.”

Gently, the Masters lips connected with your own, his nose slotting beside your own as he focussed on what he wanted. He felt the beat of your heart within his mind, his desire stitching you back together, his will making you whole. He was the Master, and even if you weren't going to obey him, the powers of regeneration certainly were.

 He couldn’t remember what number body he was on. He’d been through that many, stealing some and mutilating others.  He’d abused his regenerative capabilities to a degree that would make even Rassilon impressed. But now, he needed them to be accurate more than ever. He kissed until he had no air left in his lungs, pulling away from your body with hope etched across his expression.

 He waited, the single moment feeling like a lifetime, his gaze not turning away from you for a second.

The clock in the parlour struck the final knell of 12. It was Christmas morning.

Your eyes flew open with a start.

You gasped for air, the world knitting itself back together through your eyelashes, the exhale of relief that escaped the Master enough to blow over the strongest of structures. Your fingers reached to clutch the Master's hands, the ring laying perfectly upon your chest.

“I saved the world. It’s a bloody Christmas miracle” The Master whispered above you.

“It felt pretty strange, though. After Missy and tonight, I don’t think I want to do it again.”

You laughed quietly, your sense of self returning once more, the sensation of the Masters lips still lingering on your own. Lingering with the sensation of hope. Of life. Something the Master didn’t usually excel in. But he often worked in mysterious ways.

“And I saved you. Not to rush your reincarnation, but I still don’t have an answer…”

The Master lifted the ring from your chest, holding it between his fingers. You chuckled softly, raising your hand to meet it.

“Yes.” You replied. “Yes, yes, yes.”

The Master grinned victoriously, sliding the ring upon your finger. Back where it belonged.

“I feel like I could run a marathon.”

You admitted, smirking deviously as the Master leaned in closer.

“Or, do something else.”

The Master gave a side glance to Frannie and Digby, who were still staring at the Master in amazement. The maid had fainted once more, and Captain Latimer was still under the Master's spell, whether he knew it or not. The Master turned back towards you with a raised eyebrow.

“Miss Montague, not in front of the children.” He chastised. 

You gave a small giggle. It was music to the Masters ears.

[harleybeaumont]

Sneak Peek 👀👀👀

It's been a while since I posted but I thought I'd share some of what I have in the works!

Unintentional - Chapter 15

(It's been a long time so I hope you guys haven't forgotten about this one!)

Liam snuggled as close as he could to Max, while his hands were still cuffed to the bedpost. Last night felt like an amazing dream. Everything had turned out perfectly. Dinner, the boat ride, the blue lights he attached to the boat, the proposal.. And especially the amazing, intimate night the two of them had shared together afterwards. Life was good, great even.

Liam’s cell phone buzzed insistently on the bedside table, but without Max uncuffing him, he obviously couldn’t get it. Eh, let it go to voicemail. Liam sighed and rested his head against Maxwell’s, but before he could go back to sleep, his phone buzzed again. Then Maxwell’s started ringing.

“Hey.. babe, your phone.” Liam whispered, causing Max to wake up and look around in confusion as both of their phones continued ringing.

Max fumbled with his cell phone, placing it to his ear as he lay back next to Liam. “Yello?” He mumbled and rubbed his tired eyes. “What?!” Max shot up, gripping the phone tighter, looking back at Liam.

“What? What is it? Who is it?” Liam searched Maxwell’s stricken face. Clearly something horrible had happened. “Max! Is everyone ok?”

Maxwell blinked back tears, “Hang on a sec, Ri.” 

It was Riley… That means something awful must have happened to Drake! “Oh god, is Drake ok?!”

Max dropped the phone and quickly unlocked Liam’s cuffs. “Yes. Everyone is ok, babe.”

He grabbed the phone off of the bed and put it on speaker. “Hey Ri, Liam’s here with me. Can you, uh.. Repeat what you told me?”

Riley sighed deeply. “God.. I’m so sorry about this, guys. It looks like the world found out about your engagement already. The media is going insane.”

Mardi Gras Mayhem

(a collaborative fic I've been working on with a few other writers! I'm writing for Maxwell, Tariq, and Neville! Here's a bit of Max and Tariq's!)

Maxwell

“Tonight you are an honorary member of my bachelorette party and we are gonna make sure you have a good time.”

“Whoohoo!” Maxwell yelled as he jumped in the air with a huge grin. “I’m Max, by the way.”

The bride-to-be pointed to all the women in the group in turn. “Ginger, Allison, Mandy, and Hope. And I’m Jess.”

Max could barely contain his excitement. “How did Mandy get that adorable plushie!? I need one! Need!!!”

Mandy laughed, “Watch and learn! Ready ladies?”

Another float began making its way past and the ladies jumped up and down, screaming along with the crowd. Suddenly, the group raised their tight t-shirts again, exposing their breasts and shimming around. Maxwell watched in awe as the men on the float reached into their bag and threw cups, plushies, beads, and bejeweled flip flops right in their direction. Holy shit! The secret is.. titties!!

Tariq

“Ladies! Get out here!” Coco called out and several half dressed women emerged into the room.

“Oh dear! I’m so sorry!” Tariq covered his eyes and spun around, mortified. He had witnessed more nudity on this trip than he had ever seen in his life!

“What do we have here?” A deep voice asked curiously and Tariq lowered his hands. When he looked at the person in front of him he saw a six foot tall woman with broad shoulders, makeup, a wig cap, and a gold dress. To the left of them, a man was changing out of a button up shirt and into a rainbow halter top.

For the first time since he arrived, Tariq noticed how tall the waitresses on either side of him were. The more he looked around, the more he realized how tall everyone in the dressing room was. 

“Oh dear,” Rosy chuckled. “I think he just now figured it out!”

Tariq looked around, feeling embarrassed by his naivety. “This is a.. a..”

“A drag show, honey!” Coco laughed.

The Shower Slip Up

(I have been teasing this one for a while and I honestly have no idea why I haven't posted it yet! Gonna try to post this next week! This is a one shot from my fic Love Me The Way I Am with Maxwell x MC (Harley). I'm just gonna leave you with this one sentence 🤣🤣🤣)

If anyone had told Harley that stuffy, prudish Bertrand Beaumont would one day be laying next to her nude, she would have thought they were insane.

I am also working on the final chapter of Maxwell's Jolly Holiday, but so far it's only in my head so I don't have anything to share! 😆 😅 don't worry I didn't forget about it!

[sockori]

shmupdate 🧦

very long, hastily written, but a look is appreciated

greetings- to those who are somehow still lingering around this account or came up upon it during my desolate time off. it is sock. or sockori.... or raven... my name is actually raven (they/it, 20 yo disabled autistic goth nerd whatever the fuck). howdy

im still on the 'undetermined hiatus' so to speak that i described in my leaving post, but i will say right now that i have no near future plans on returning. in the tags on my newest art, i mentioned my naruto hyperfixation (of like. 6 years i think) finally died out and other interests have long since captured my autism full force. for me personally, when i lose a special interest like this so drastically, i just full on abandon it for as long as it stands. however, this isn't the only thing that made me leave, and i think its time for me to be completely honest & get some weight off my chest.

i made this account around the cusp of turning 14, during a god awful pubescent era where i acted as any other edgy teen does and i'd much rather like to forget these days. what im saying is i was not in the right mindset at all when i exposed myself that much & got the attention that i did. a dismayingly giant coping mechanism i had in my youth was being online 24/7 because i had no one in reality to lean on let alone feel comfortable talking to about anything that was happening at that time. this of course leads to what the kids call these days being 'chronically online'- desperate for some sort of assurance or interaction, i crawled into internet spaces i shouldn't have been for an also incredibly unsupervised child using the dangerous worldwide web.

yes, naruto was apart of this, as well as other interests i had at the time. throughout my journey i met unsavory people, suffered abhorrent things like stalking & gr---ming, saw things i didn't deserve to see, did a bunch of stupid shit an angsty teen does, i believe you understand the rest. i am in no way proud or gleeful about any of these years and have some very sour memories tied to fandom as a whole, not just naruto, and i really don't like reflecting on them. so, unfortunately, this account sorta became a bitter reminder of what i went through as i grew up & finally matured and sought to recover. that's the first part of why my activity fizzled away & i began backing off from internet use entirely.

the second part is sasori. yes, the puppet man. sorta the sole reason i made sockori in the first place. as the sasori enjoyers following / who followed know, this puppeteer has an incredibly unhealthy philosophy and worldview (if the carefully preserved corpses turned puppets and complete lack of humanity didn't give that away), and is safe to say entirely detached from his reality to a nhilistic and suicidal extent. when you autistically fixate on a character like how i did, sometimes this character's rhetoric can seep into your own without you even realizing; Especially when you're a spot where you are incredibly vulnerable and psychologically unstable, as i was in my youth. now i didn't go around believing you should uhhh murder people and preserve them Obviously- actually i began to believe that perhaps there was some peace in obtaining a robotic existence. maybe emotions were useless, perhaps nothing truly mattered, my life didn't matter, art in eternal in the sense that death is scary and i should avoid it at all costs, why make connections with people when they just die or leave, cant trust people at all to help me, xyz. anything in these lines. without going too uncomfortably deep for everyone's sake and mine, it fucked me up severely. i suppose in a way it relates to how he uses poison. his toxins got right into my nervous system, but the pain i felt from those toxins was the only thing i could really rely on at the time, so i just let it happen. such is the depressing case of coping in the worst spot of your life.

cant help but feel incredibly strange telling the tale, as it sounds so obscure doesn't it, but media can truly get inside your psyche like this if a consumer isn't careful. not sure if anyone else out there fell into a similar headspace dealing with interests in this nature- but regardless. what i mean to say is, sasori is now a kind of content i cant consume anymore. i am in a way better place now, have grown wise and balanced with careful recovery and patience, and of course have grown out of whatever teenage nonsense i was on. sasori, who was once the only thing my autistic traumatized ass could lean on, is now an extremely dark shadow on my life. yes i see this homicidal anime puppet dude from a fantasy ninja anime and get psychological distress. he's somewhat of an aggressor or abuser to me now, which is tragic. ive been actively avoiding everything even vaguely relating to him, be it the art of puppetry, anime clips, robotic/sci-fi genre, whatnot cause i just. man. i dont wanna go back there. shouldn't have to explain why at this point. ptsd at its finest

feel like ive been honest enough. sasori enjoyers out there who were just around to enjoy what i made, anyone i happened to be good friends with during my time on this account, this doesn't have anything to do with you guys. i appreciate everyone dearly for supporting me and cheering me on in whatever i made despite all the hell & anguish that was taking place beyond the keyboard. im just glad that i managed to find some way out and get the help i need before i gave up & took my own life, which depressingly i almost did a handful of times. carrying the horrors is an exhausting burden to bare sometimes, but that does not mean i can't look back on the good parts of the era too. and seeing you all happy and sharing my memes or whatever made me ecstatic and at least a little bit hopeful for the future. fortunately that little spark of hope grew into something more. thanks for being a light in a very, very dark room.

that being said, i leave you all with this: i am not dead, just greatly changed, a new person at last freed from apathy & exhaustion, with now enough room to finally grow. the memories will never truly fade & my disabilities will be a part of me until i pass on, but at least now i can manage them a lot better than ever before, surrounded by way better people who love me for who i am. i will hang on the best i can. i wish for you to do the same. find freedom and happiness wherever you are. take care. happy trails

trans rights. i eat fascist souls. free palestine

[ruminate88]

Deeper Layers:

I write and write about my exes. More so Andrew because he was my recent ex and I felt I obsessively idealized him the most. Then I go back and read these post over and over and over…. My brain scans my own words and feelings, then tries to make sense of it all. I use an A.I ChatGPT to break down the post and then it gives me an interpretation which I scan with my brain again and it feels endless but I realized last night there is layers to this “healing journey” because of there is such depth to these emotional scars. ❤️‍🩹

I love metaphors and symbolism in life because it helps me, someone who is a “visual learner” to actually be able to see what I need to. When I fell off a ladder last thanksgiving/christmas, the deep wounds in my legs opened the door of compassion within myself for the wounds in my heart/soul. I realized how much of me needs restoration and resetting.

EVERYWHERE I turn or read, it says in hidden messages, “healing takes time”. “Healing is on going”. It’s a “never ending process”.,… but I also get messages of “forgiveness” and “letting go”. I’ve been going around this mountain and around as I’m traveling up. I often feel stuck in cycles but yet, I’m slowly unraveling each layer or untangling each strand of the web of lies. Either way you want to look at it, I’m STILL finding truth in all the fog of the past.

I know without a doubt, yes my ex Andrew deceived me but I loved him. I may have idealized or fantasized our relationship but I cared about him. I showed up for him even while he’s inflicting pain on me and dumping stress on me. I wasnt perfect and I wasn’t asking him to be perfect either. I just wanted him to be real and honest with me. If you have other girls you like, tell me. Don’t make me believe I’m the only one in your life when clearly you’re entertaining multiple. 💔 (this is part of the letting go that I struggle with cuz it still hurts me even now and it shouldn’t)

I’m not depressed anymore, thank God!! I know what depression or oppression feels like. This is just “sad”. Sad because I’m losing a part of me that was toxic and no longer serves my higher good. Andrew can’t serve my best interest. I’ve worried about that man and prayed for him. I’ve feared him but had hope with him even KNOWING he cheated, a small part of me was hopeful that he did love me even if it was a small portion…. Thinking he only used me because he hated my guts, that just makes me feel awful but can’t deny that possibility!! 😓

Also, remembering how I was helping to raise my bro’s kids at the time when I was actively talking to Andrew and I was sorta in this weird “mothering mode” where I just took care of everyone at that time, even Andrew. He would cry to me that college was hard, that his parents were so strict about his grades, that he was afraid to fail and disappoint them…. So, I would “baby” him and feel sorry for him. I would lie to myself that he trusted me and needed me… I lied to myself that he loved me because I was the one he came to with his problems. I believed it was “love” and so I did everything within my heart of hearts to care about him and I would try so hard to encourage him but I couidnt relate to him on any level because I didn’t even go to school. I dropped out after the 7th grade, then didn’t get my GED till I’m 19. I felt stupid talking to Andrew about “home work” and “schooling”. I was fearful he would think I was stupid….

Yet I’m the one showing up for him, encouraging him, trying to understand when he’s been “gone for 3 days” but suddenly comes back with “hey babe I miss you soooo much I’m soooooo busy have sooooo much homework” 😝😝😝😝 and I would FORGIVE HIM, OFFER TO BREAK UP annnnnnd STAY WITH HIM when he promises me he’s going to change and make more time for me…. Even when he’s snap-chatting me from his frat house. Selfies of himself at parties but yet telling me how much homework he has and how stressed out he is.

I gave him the benefit of the doubt, my online girlfriends kept saying to me, “Why are you with that little kid???” And they made me feel bad constantly. I felt my friends were judging me for being so much older than him and clearly he was immature BUT I was constantly crying to my girlfriends how Andrew kept disappearing and how sad I was but then turn around; Andrew would suddenly come back and be sooooooooo romantic. Tell me how beautiful I am, how he misses me sooo much but still cries he’s too busy. My girlfriends were tired of me being up and down constantly. I wouldn’t change. I know that’s why Bri went behind my back becuase I wouldn’t take advice about Andrew. I would get overly defensive and tell my girlfriends, “I just want you to be happy for me” 😒💔

Looking back, I was NEVER happy. I didn’t tell Andrew half of my secrets becuase I was already traumatized from Cody and scared to lose Andrew. I told Andrew I had been ghosted, that I NEVER wanted to experience that again. Andrew KNEW I didn’t wanna be hurt yet he just couldn’t care. He could only be selfish with me. He found it easy to ignore me when he’s busy but when he’s not, suddenly he’s all over me again begging for my nudes and telling me how good I make him feel…

I have an older Facebook I used to stalk him with back then and I would blog on it and wow… the many post of one minute I’m on cloud 9 with Andrew but then the next, I’m anxiously on the edge ready to end my life… there was never any solid ground when talking to him. I was either crazy high or dying inside….. 😭😭😭 Then at some point I stopped blogging and that’s because the relationship got 10x worse. Andrew’s responses to my text or Snapchat’s got shorter and more robotic up until I found proof he cheated and then we broke up.

Not once can I look back and say it was a good, healthy or loving relationship sadly… I can only realize how I misinterpreted Andrew’s behavior towards me and romanticized all the sexting as love. 😔💔 I still don’t hate him or even hate myself…. Just, it’s sad that I believed in love with him when it was just sex. It just makes me feel bad and stupid. I know forgiving myself is just as much a process as forgiving him. Yeah, I’m upset he mislead me but he can’t take it all back. The way he posted the next girl all over his social, that was a slap on my face but doesn’t mean he treated her better than me. Also, the way he tried to FaceTime me after I moved on, like…. What did that mean? Was it truly just to continue to manipulate me or did he miss me? Hah 😝😝😝 (I’m for sure he probably only missed the attention I gave him.) I doubt he EVER cared about me for the real me. Plus there wasn’t too much deep stuff we even talked about) I guess I just wanted Andrew to potentially be the one cuz so much chemistry and vibes between us. His Facebook seemed normal and I actually believed he was a good boy who respected his parents and grand parents 😂😂😂😂😂 (I was just wearing rose colored glasses and was blind to the truth)

[triptychgrip]

Now complete: my 34K word, married Viktuuri "Fanfic within a Fanfic"

I'm not exactly sure what possessed me to try to write a Yuri!!! on Ice story that is both meta (see the fake ao3 interface in the above screenshot from Chapter 1) and involves a role-reversal element, but I'm really glad I did: the experience gave me tons to think about with respect to the challenge of paying homage to canon when you're "reversing" characters that have very different personalities. To this point, when I've gotten things down somewhat coherently, I might make a 'reflections' post.

Put It In Reverse For Thirst (which is the name of the fic that married Viktuuri write together and then read aloud/attempt to roleplay) is premised on Yuuri proposing a concept for him and Viktor to write sappy/smutty fanfiction around: one in which he is the 5-time World Champion, Living Legend of figure skating, and becomes coach to a younger Viktor. In their story-verse, Viktor qualifies for his first Grand Prix Final in December 2018, and they meet and dance together at the Vancouver post-competition banquet.

At the point their story begins, Viktor is debuting the Eros program in competition for the first time, and they've been coach and student for a year and a half. By now, their relationship has developed into deep friendship, and while they're both desperately in love with one another, it takes the emergence of possessive Yuuri, a hurt Viktor confronting his coach, and the realization around their banquet meeting nearly two years prior to prompt them to muster up the bravery to confess their feelings.

I'm super, super proud of this story for many reasons, but I think the primary one is that in seeing Yuuri and Viktor "react" to their fic-selves' actions and dialogue in real-time -- because they're reading the story aloud with the intent of roleplaying the smutty parts later -- it gives you a sense of how in awe they are of their own beginnings, and juxtaposes where they are now: married for over a year, and together for over three. Needless to say, there are many happy tears as they progress in reading their fic.

I'm including one of my favorite excerpts below from Chapter 2, which I hope piques your interest in checking it out, and/or my other YOI work! (Note, the first part in brackets is from their fic, while the second is them in "real life") ------- [A feeling of rightness stole over him as he thought back to the very first of their beachside heart-to-hearts, all the way back in June of 2019.

That had been almost a year-and-a-half ago, the conversation serving as the first blow to the pedestal Viktor had long placed Yuuri on, ever since he’d first seen him skate on a tiny tv in St. Petersburg, Russia, as a bright-eyed slip of a twelve-year-old boy.

Their relationship had transformed over the last sixteen months, and now, they were no longer distant god and lowly worshiper.

Nor were they merely coach and student.

For maybe the first time in his life, Viktor could say he knew how it felt to be deeply, closely connected with someone else. Indeed, he had long since accepted that Yuuri was the closest friend he’d ever had, might ever have…

He was his best friend.]

Viktor sensed the touch of his husband’s hand on his shoulder and paused his reading to turn. He smiled at the feel of the sweet kiss pressed to his cheek.

“And you’re mine,” Yuuri said, back to playing with his ponytail.

The fondness in his gaze was obvious, and Viktor hid his flushing cheeks in his neck, nestling it just above the collar of his dress shirt.

“What’s this, Katsuki-Nikiforov, already blushing? We haven’t even gotten to the big kiss or love confession, yet,” Yuuri teased, poking at the ticklish spot right underneath his ear.

He yelped out a laugh in response before leaning back to make eye contact.

“Well chop chop, then, Katsuki-Nikiforov! Let’s get these two lip-locking, stat!” Viktor cried, pointing at his pile so that he’d get the hint to take over.

[pebblysand]

Started reading castles and it’s so good! Don’t know if saying this correctly but… how did you came up with it? Like what made your brain go “ I wanna write about this”?

aw thank you so much! glad you're enjoying!

wow, this is such a deep question. i don't think there was, like, one thing that made me want to write it. i didn't wake up one day with a fully formed idea of what this fic will be. even now, while i do have the overall structure in my head, i definitely also make things up as i go along. castles has known many iterations of itself over the years, and it just kept growing until i felt i was finally able to write it.

the first time i got the urge to write something was when i was 14, right after i first finished reading DH. i remember writing fic in my little school notebook during class. at the time, it was mostly a harry/ginny story about how-they-got-back-together after the war. i lost it and never finished it, but i remember very clearly it already had that sort of quiet, blurry sort of vibe that you get in the early chapters, especially chapter one. that sense of the calm after the storm, and not really knowing what to do with all that time. back then, i was writing exclusively shippy content, and so that's the sort of iteration it took. but i think what drove me to write it was this sort of frustration at the epilogue and at the "lack" of a direct aftermath of the battle. i'm not an epilogue hater, i actually like the epilogue for what it represents, but i think i would have liked more details on the characters and the "rebuilding" prior to it. i think that's where that came from.

the second time i tried to write it, i had just turned 18. i'd done a re-read that summer and by then, i already had a lot more writing experience under my belt (for context, i started writing at 13). i remember, again, it being post-war, and a sort of more "polished" product than what i'd written prior. i think i didn't finish it/publish it back then because a) the hugeness of the HP fandom scared me as a writer, and i didn't want to expose myself to the crazies, b) that's around the same time i fell into House MD, then TGW, and both shows took over my life, and c) i think, looking back, maybe some part of me knew i could write a better story, if i just waited a bit. but, it was then that i wrote the very first draft of what you will now know as the "first time" scene between harry and ginny, and also the line that has now become the fic's summary: to him, the spring of '98 is about sex and funerals. i remember this re-read was also the first time when i actually sat down and thought about what might have happened to ginny in hogwarts and (i'm remaining vague here cause you've said you only just started reading), had the idea for The Thing. which wasn't so much an "idea" as much as the fact that i was 18 and now a lot more attuned to the world i was living in as a young woman.

i picked up the books again in late 2017 (then, 24) and i remember pulling the story out of my massive archive of abandoned projects, and reading through it after finishing DH. i remember getting to the line "to him, the spring of '98 is about sex and funerals" and thinking: jesus, that's a good line, lol. and, i think at the time i wrote a bit more of it (i specifically remember writing the scene where ginny, ron and hermione help harry move in to his new flat - now chapter 3), but the issue was that i was knee-deep into writing another long-work in another fandom, and so this sort of took the backseat.

finally, we got to the 2020 lockdowns. i used the first lockdown to fully finish and put in the edits i wanted to add to my previous long work (which i'd finished writing in 2018). then, there was a second lockdown, and a third, and was a bit like: what now? and i re-read HP for comfort (considering the global crisis ongoing lol), and, well, the rest is history. i reviewed and repolished what i already had and put it out in september 2020. i thought to myself, i'll write another five chapters (LOL) and be done by december and, well, again, the rest is history.

so, i think, to answer your question, what made my brain go "i wanna write about this?" - time, really. the passage of time and the idea maturing in my brain. harry/ginny came first, then ginny, then the sort of broader environment (harry moving into a flat, etc), and finally, the overall arc of the story. i think the fascination with the post-war era is just - this idea that how do we get from kids who have been through so much and so deeply traumatised to "all was well". i remember seeing an interview from jkr once where she said that would probably have been the hardest part, and being like "yes, exactly." and, i think that fascination was always there, for me, but it just took a while to fully form.

which is something i now very much try to keep in mind: just because you abandon a project now, doesn't mean you are abandoning it forever. maybe it just needs more time in your head to fully bloom.

[hotpocketpena]

You don’t get to walk out on me again

Notes: Please be v patient w me. I have not written anything since Dionsaurs were alive so I’m very rusty!

OK so I’m obvi obsessed with Mr sexy Pena so I had to make my first about him. He is the loml and i have frequent dreams about this dreamy man that will eventually turn into posts so oopsie. 

I hope ya’ll enjoy n lemme know what u tink ;)

ps. I am terrible with Spanish (ltrlly just used google translate pls no attack)

Overview - Reader x Javier were in a long term relationship, but things got messy and the relationship ended. Reader has now moved on but can’t completely move on because Javi wont let her go. 

Use of Y/N

Word Count - 2.8k+

Warnings - Swearing

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

You sit at your desk, using the useless files as a makeshift fan. The Colombian heat has not been kind to any of you in the office today. It also didn’t help that he had been staring you down for the majority of the day. 

Javier couldn’t take his eyes off you. He was like a moth to a very, sweaty but beautiful flame. He watched with such awe as you fanned yourself with files that are useless to your investigation with Escobar. 

Things didn’t end well between you both. 

There were underlining problems with Javi’s commitment issues, you knew this before getting involved with him. You really tired to not be another notch in his beat. But my lord, that man is irresistible. It only took 4 days for him to have his way with you. 

4 days of little flirtatious winks here and there. 4 days of wearing extremely tight pants just so you would look at his ass. Even though they made him the most uncomfortable he’s ever been, he didn't care. He wanted you, and he was willing to go to circulation-cutting lengths to have you. 

Aside from the blood cutting off in his legs and a few remarks from his partner Steve, it was nothing. He’d done much worse for girls with much less beauty than you. But was it all worth it?

Why did he make a fool out of himself for someone that just threw him away like a piece of trash? He asks himself this question everyday since you left him standing alone in his apartment. He thought about running after you and demanding to know why you were doing this to him. Why after him opening up to you about his past, would you just run out when things got a little tough?

“Will you just go over and talk to her Pena?” Javi was snapped out of the thoughs running around in his head. His blonde haired partner decided to but in on his private life once again. 

Javier wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and grunted. “Will you just shut the fuck up Murphy. I don’t need to have this conversation with you again.” He certainly didn’t want to even think about you, never mind talk to his loved up partner about how shitty his love life had been. 

Steve sighed. “I hate seeing you two like this Pena. You two were so goo-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Javi stood up from his chair. 

Steve had pissed him off too much over the last two weeks. Constantly pestering him to go over and speak to you. Just ask you the simple question of why? 

But, Javier Pena was the most stubborn man in the whole of Colombia.

He was glad Steve pissed him off so much. He finally had an excuse to leave the office and not waste another look at you. He needed to bury himself deep in something. Drink or whores. Or her. 

He shook that last thought away and went to the bathroom to splash some water over his face. It calmed him down, but he wish he stayed in there longer. His fists clenched and his eyes were seeing red. 

He saw you, and your new boyfriend of three weeks, Marizio from intelligence, leaning over your desk and whispering something in your ear. 

That used to be him. He was the one that would whisper all the dirty things he’d want to do to you while you were working. He was the one that would make you blush like that. Make you feel things you’ve never felt before in your life. 

Javier couldn’t move. He was like stone, his eyes locked on the small boy leaning on your desk. 

You laughed and held onto Marizio’s shoulder as you stood up. You were done with work for the weekend, hoping to leave the troubles of the DEA behind and enjoy a relaxing weekend with your new boyfriend. 

The honeymoon stage was in full swing. You never wanted to come out of it with Maritzio. If only it could stay like this forever. It’s only been a few weeks since he first asked you out, but you’re glad he did. 

You were a nervous wreck on your first date. You hadn’t been out with another man since him. But Maritzio wasn’t like him. 

He was kind, sweet and caring. 

He never treated you in a harsh way like someone else did. After your first date, he walked you back to your apartment complex and gave you a light kiss on the cheek goodnight. 

You were used to the night ending in yours or his bed, screaming each others names until you lost your voices. But with Maritzio, he was a gentleman. 

So when the time came around for his birthday, you thought he would decline the invitation from Steve to go to their favourite bar after work. And to your surprise, he said yes. 

If Steve was going to be there, you knew he was going to be there. Any mention of alcohol he was always going to be there. 

Maritzio knew about your past relationship struggles. He didn’t know exactly who with, but he knew it was someone within the DEA. He was very calm about it, not in the slightest concerned about anything happening while you were together. 

A few days after your second date, you got very drunk and called Maritzio. You meant to dial someone else's number to help you with the pain of heartbreak, but he was the one that broke it. So when Maritzio came rushing over, you spilled your guts. 

You told him how the last relationship you were in, you were completely in love with a person who wasn’t real. They were a mask. And behind the mask was a harsh monster. That monster came out the longer you two were together. You’d put up with the monster for so long, it got too much, so you left. 

Maritzio held you for the rest of the night, and offered to sleep on the couch so you wouldn’t be alone. This was one of the best nights sleep you had since you left him.

You and Martizio decided to go to the bar straight after work, to start the celebrations early. A few of the other agents had the same idea. It was about two hours before anyone else arrived, and you were pretty hammered. 

You and two other agents were engrossed in conversation when a large cheer erupted from the bar. 

Murphy and he walked into the bar with cases of beers and balloons. 

Maritzio headed over to thank them. Murphy pulled him in for a hug, but Pena gave him a clipped nod and made a dart for the bar. 

You mingled some more and decided on another drink. You needed to have as much as possible if you were to be in a different environment other than work with HIM. 

You ordered 2 shots of Tequila and a jack and coke. Once your drinks were ready, you took the two shots one after the other and headed to your seat.

“Tequila makes you sick y’know.” Pena muttered while drinking the last of his whiskey. 

Sober you, would just ignore him. Sober you. would walk over to your caring boyfriend and spend time with him. 

Sober you wouldn’t be stupid. 

But sober you, is locked in a cage and drunk you has swallowed the key. 

You spun dramatically on your heel, and look Javier in the eyes for the first time in what feels like forever.

“It doesn’t actually make me sick anymore. It makes me more fun.” You giggled, taking your seat back at the bar and ordering another two shots. 

“Bebita, the only thing that makes you more fun is water.” He chuckled, ordering a bottle of water. 

“Hey!” You pointed a finger at him as serious as you could. Your finger couldn’t exactly stay on Pena, but you put all your focus into it. “Don’t use Spanish on me. You k-know I don’t know t-those funky words.” Hiccups were the worst for you when you were drunk. 

Javi’s eyes softened, just loving the sound of your voice. He somehow forgot what it sounded like. And now he remembers, it sounds like sweet honey. 

“Matitzio i-is teaching me! So s-say that word to me again in t-three months and I’ll know it all!” You cheered, sliding one of the shots over to Javier to take with you. 

Javier’s eyes hardened at the mention of his name. He didn’t want to hear another mans name come out of your lips, other than his. 

He hated Tequila, but if this is the only way for you to keep talking to him, he will do this. 

You both took the shot. Javier’s face creased with disgust at the liquid. You laughed at his expression. He had a small droplet of Tequila in the corner of his mouth. Out of habit, you leaned over and swiped your thumb over the bead. 

You froze when you realised what you were doing, and so did he. 

You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t even be near him. 

Sober you had broken free from her cage, and she was ready to run. “I u-uh, need to go to the bathroom.” You stuttered, carefully jumping from the barstool and making a quick escape to the bathroom. 

How could you be so stupid! You knew what talking to him would lead to! You are happy with Javier! You mean Maritzio!

Even your brain was thinking of him. This needed to stop. 

You run quickly into the bathroom, the Tequila finally hitting you. It feels like hours but you make it to the bathroom, hurling up the contents of your stomach. 

“Y/n? Are you in there?” You hear Javier banging on the door for the ladies bathroom. 

“Go away” you mutter loud enough so he could hear you. “I don’t want to see you,”

A few seconds go by and nothing. You continue to be sick, and feel someone holding your hair back. 

This, this is why you should not have Tequila. But you just couldn’t help yourself. It’s the only drink that makes you the drunkest, the quickest. You skip past all of the other stages, like the awkward dancing stage, the overly loud and wants to talk to everyone stage, and jump straight to the confident & sassy stage. But, the quicker you get to that stage, the big final stages edges closer than you want. The vomiting in the bathroom and feeling violently ill stage. Everybody wishes that stage did not exist. 

“It’s okay baby, let it all out.” A soft voice sooths your nerves and a hand rubs small circles on your back, coxing you to get everything out. “Shhhh, I’m here. I did tell you that Tequila makes you throw up.” The voice chuckles at the end, making you very aware who is holding you. 

You slowly sit up from the floor and walk out from the enclosed stall. Your head is spinning at a million miles an hour. Why did he follow you? 

You don’t look at Javier. You can’t. There’s too much pain, too much history between you. You will never be able to recover from him. Never be able to fully move on. 

“You need to stop this. You need to leave me alone.” You whisper, the liquid courage taking a step back. 

“I was not going to leave you to choke on your own vomit Y/n. I’m a lot of things, but letting you suffer alone? Nah, that’s not something I’m ok with.” He huffs, pacing the bathroom area. 

“Oh, that’s not something you’re ok with? Right, well I’m just slightly confused.”

“How’s that?” He asks, raising his brows. 

“Well I mean, you’re very ok with causing me pain and suffer the last time I checked.” Liquid courage is back and ready to put up a fight. 

You cross your arms and lean against the wall near the door. Keeping as much difference between you as possible. This fight has been brewing inside the both of you since the day you both parted ways. 

The huffs and puffs in the office when you both got assigned to the same case. The clear protest from Pena when the ambassador gave you praise for the missions and he got little. The looks of lust and love when the other one of you wasn’t looking. 

It needed to all end here. It was now or never. 

“I think it’s the other way around Bebita.” Javier sighed, leaning one leg behind him and balancing himself on the wall in front of you. “You were the one that left me to suffer alone in my apartment.” 

“I cannot believe you are bringing this up now!” You shout, loud enough to get some attention from the party goers. But you don’t care. 

“When else was I supposed to bring it up huh? I’m sorry did I miss our regularly scheduled morning feelings meetings!” He holds his hands to his mouth. “Oh my god I can’t believe I missed those! I’ll have to get Steve to fill me in later!” The sarcasm was dripping from his mouth, clearly taking this whole conversation as a joke. 

“Fuck you Pena.” That’s all you could say. He was always like this. Never took anything seriously, only cared about his job and beer. 

You push yourself off the wall and reach for the door handle. Javier grabs your waist and spins you, pushing you back up against the wall again. “You do not get to walk out on me again.” Your foreheads almost touch. If you leaned in, your lips would be touching. 

You breathe in and take in his scent. Beer and nicotine is the smell you’ve been craving the most. Maritzio smells like lavender. Which is not a bad thing at all. You actually like the smell of Lavender. But what you miss is the smell of Javier. You miss everything about him. 

“I can’t do this Javi.” You squeak. “I’m with Marit-”

“Please don’t say his name. I only want you to say my name.” 

His words shock you. “I don’t want to hurt him Javi. Please.”

He takes a small step forward, closing the gap between your chests. The tension is thick in the air, just gasping for some relief. 

“But you want to hurt me baby? Do you want to put me through all that pain again?” he whispers, moving his head to rest in the crook of your neck. 

“I never intended to hurt you Javi, but you hurt me by not being there. He is there for me. You weren’t.” You sigh. 

He plants faint kisses on your neck which send tingles into places that haven’t tingled for a while. You close your eyes and rest your head against the wall, allowing him more access. He moves from your neck up to the shell of your ear. 

“But I will be.” He whispers, the pain clear in his voice. “I will be there for you until you want me. And even if you don't want me baby, I will be waiting until you do. These last few months have been the worst of my life. I have made the biggest mistake of my life by choosing work over you my sweat girl. I promise, if you leave that boy and give me another chance, I will promise to love you until the end of time.”

A tear runs from your eyes and Javi is quick to wipe them away. “Please don’t cry baby. I don’t want to upset you, again.” He pouts, not knowing how else to fix the situation. 

“Javi, that’s all I’ve ever wanted you to say. Just that you acknowledge that I’m here and that you have something else in your life other than work. I hated myself when I left you, but I’m glad I did. Because if Id’ve stayed, you would not be standing here telling me all of this.” You said, looking him in the eyes for the first time in what feels like years. 

“Well, we wouldn’t be standing in a bathroom you just threw your guts up in because you drank too much tequila.” He rolls his eyes and tuts. 

You lean forward and shove him back playfully, earning a cheeky grin from him. 

“You’re right. If you didn’t leave me, I wouldn’t have realise how special you are Mi Amore. And I want to be yours again, if you’ll have me.” His big brown doe eyes look softly into yours. 

Another tear slips from your eyes, but this time, they're tears of joy. “And I want to be your-” He swoops you up in his arms and plants peck and peck all over your face. You giggle until he puts you down. 

“I promise to cherish you until the end of time my angel. I will always love you.” 

[rollinouttahere]

I had my wisdom teeth removed yesterday, and I need to rant

To preface, I will admit this was my first surgery that I have gone through, but this whole process felt really off to me. To start with, these people told me fuck all about basically everything. I found out two minutes ago that I shouldn’t have been using the mouth rinse they gave me until today, they never indicated that to me at all and neither did the pharmacist. I found this out because I googled what food I’m not supposed to eat (again, not told), and happened to stumble across it.

As for the procedure itself: red flags from the start but I was in too deep to leave at that point. First thing that stuck out was that they didn’t weigh me, an odd thing to do when you’re about to use anesthetic on someone. I filled out my weight on some paperwork and they just rode with that. Sure, I wasn’t lying about it, but a lot of people do lie about their weight, so why the fuck would they take that risk? After that, they had me in the chair getting ready to be put under anesthetic, and they didn’t tell me when they were going to use it. The nurse put the tubes in my nose and just said it was oxygen. I’m 25, not 5. They could have just told me. Didn’t realize what it really was until I woke up post surgery.

While she was putting it in, the surgeon was talking to me about how weird my bottom wisdom teeth were. Apparently, their roots were wrapped around a nerve that when damaged, can make your lower lip numb either for a few weeks/months, to possibly the rest of my life. He was debating whether to take out the whole tooth or just the crown to be safe. What did he do, you ask? Wish I fucking knew! I passed out in the middle of that and STILL DON’T KNOW!

Onto me waking up. I found out that they took all four wisdom teeth. This was not the agreed to plan, they were only supposed to get the ones on the bottom and leave the other two for a later date. On top of that, the nurse discharging me had some serious ‘bully in high school turned nurse’ vibes going on and it was awful. She didn’t tell me (or my mom who was there as my driver) a god damn thing, just told me to avoid soup (?????). She also lied and said I had gotten up to go to the bathroom by myself even though I was really struggling from the anesthesia and couldn’t hardly sit up by myself much less walk. Why would you lie about this? That’s just a weird thing to lie about. She also copped an attitude with my mom for catching me when I fell from trying to stand. I guess she wanted me to lose some more teeth on the floor that day.

Also, remember that thing I mentioned with the nerve that could make my lower lip numb if it was damaged? I’ve regained feeling everywhere BUT my lower lip, so I guess I’ll see where that goes in a few months time. 

[katherinejblackwell]

Katherine's Tea Party 4 - Not Scrolling For A Week

Also read on my website!

Photo by Tirachard Kumtanom

I noticed recently that I tend to feel really awful after starting my morning on my phone or after scrolling for long periods of time when I get home. I think phone use has its place - spending some time resting and scrolling can be really restorative, and social media can be a great additive to your life in many ways. But I'm also one of many people who are probably (definitely) addicted to their phones, and too much of anything will start to wear on you. So, for this month's post, I'm going to see how I feel after using my phone as little as possible for a week, with a particular ban on scrolling, and see how I'm feeling and what my thoughts are at the end.

I was originally going to do a day-by-day record and analysis of this experiment but my poor memory and poor notetaking has led to me to decide to give an overview of my thoughts instead.

For background, I use my phone what I would say is an egregious amount on a day-to-day basis. My daily screen time average the week before this was 7h 2m, and my total screen time for the week was 49h 16m. Which is give or take 30% of that whole week. Considering how much of that time I'm asleep for, I found that a little unsettling. I tend to reach for my phone when I need a break or when I'm tired or even when I'm emotionally not great. I always go straight for some sort of app to scroll on and, again, while I think social media can add a lot to life, I think it's eating up a lot of my life more than it's been adding to it. So what I really wanted this week was to sort of reclaim that time and use it for things that I actually want to do. There are so many projects and hobbies that I want to spend time doing that I often don't because I'm scrolling instead, and I think taking a full step away from my phone will be a great first step in finding a better balance between my life and my phone.

The  first day was a little difficult, but felt really good. Breaking that lingering habit of always reaching for my phone when I got bored doing homework or cleaning, or when I was tired and wanting a break, was hard for me. It's  a habit that's been so ingrained in me after so many years and that first push away from it was a challenge. It got easier after the first few days, though I think that's mainly because I was working four days in a row this week, so after that first day I had way less time to find moments of boredom where I wanted that crutch. And the most difficult part of this experience for me was most definitely those moments of boredom, especially when I was also tired, because the easiest, most low-energy thing I could do to make that boredom go away was to grab my phone, open an app, and start scrolling. I caught myself a few times opening social media apps before I was even aware I was doing it, which kind of surprised me. It was a completely subconscious decision. I think it made me fully realize just how deep-rooted the habit of scrolling is in my day-to-day life. The key for me was finding things to fill those moments when I was grabbing for something to do. For most of the week, that was easy because, as a reader, reaching for a book was a really easy replacement. But towards the beginning and end of the week, I was waiting on holds to come in for me at the library, so I had to find other ways to fill those moments.

At the beginning of the week, I had a lot of success with sewing in place of scrolling. I've been slowly learning how to hand sew the past few months and I've had a pile of things that need mending for absolute ages. That first day, I fixed three sweaters that'd had small holes in them for months and I felt really good about getting around to them at last. For the final few days of the week, I turned to writing. I was doing an assignment for my creative writing class, working on this post, and starting progress on my novella. Both of these activities really captured my goal for the week in that during this time when I would normally be scrolling, I was getting around to things that I'd been wanting to do and that I enjoy. I was doing something that required concentration, that grew a skill I wanted to develop, and/or that brought me some feeling of personal accomplishment and fulfillment outside of a school or work setting. 

Overall, I had a much more full week than I normally would. Again, I was getting to do all of these things that I always want to do but that I'm regularly held back from doing by my scrolling habit. Aside from sewing and writing, I played an instrument, finished reading a book, spent time with people close to me, and did more cleaning than I'd managed to do in a long time. In a manner of speaking, I was living a lot more than I normally would if I had allowed myself all of my usual scroll time. I felt both physically and mentally so much better. Doing more tactile activities and activities that make me happy rather than keeping me in some sort of weird, sedated, mindless state greatly improved how I was feeling overall; I was having a lot less brain fog and I wasn't getting any of those weird sort-of headaches that I normally get when I scroll first thing in the morning or for long periods of time. 

That isn't to say that I didn't use my phone at all this week. At the end of the week, my screen time came to a daily average of 2h 29m and a weeklong total of 17h 25m, which is roughly 10% of all the hours in a week. Way better than where I was last week, but not insignificant. I used my to-do app every single day, I watched movies that had been on my list while sewing and cleaning, I used Goodreads to keep track of my books and my library's app to check on my holds, and I played matching and word games while waiting or bored. I still used my phone for upwards of an hour every day this week. The main difference here is that, for the most part, my phone wasn't what I was doing. Aside from the games, all of my phone use this week was rooted in something physical I was doing, which leads to my main takeaway from this week. Phone use in general is not some great evil that needs to be defeated. There is a really great middle ground in which your phone can add a lot to your life while not ruling it. There's a broader conversation to be had here about how social media platforms are designed to keep you scrolling and how there are much larger corporations benefiting from individuals' addictions to their phones. I don't think any one person should be blamed for excessive phone use or addiction to their phone. But I do think it's good to start having conversations about healthy relationships with technology and screen time both as Gen Z are coming into adulthood and as the next generation is being raised in a world that is undeniably full of screens.

Book Rec and Drink of the Month

My book recommendation this month is The Tea Dragon Society by Kay O'Neill. From what I have gathered, it was first published online for free as a webcomic, but was published as a physical graphic novel in 2017, with two more volumes following in 2019 and 2021. My library has all three and I finally took the first one home after mooning over its art style for months. This book is full of just the most beautiful art and it has such a sweet and simple story. I absolutely loved reading it and staring at every single page trying to soak in all of the colors and details. I cannot recommend reading this enough, I think anyone with a love for fantasy, art, and cute lil creatures would really enjoy this series.

My drink for this month is the Lavender Night tea made by Fraser Tea. I didn't love it initially because I don't get that much lavender from it, but it's grown on me the past few days. It has a really nice scent and, although I think the pineapple comes out a lot more than the other flavors, it has a pleasant subtle sweetness. I've been reaching for it all week when I want something warm and I'll probably pick up another box later on. 

Thank you very much to anyone who took the time to read this week. It was certainly a much denser post than usual for me, but I really enjoyed writing it and I'd love to do similar posts in the future. I'm glad to be writing here again after my accidental break in February. It was a pleasure, and I hope you'll all join me for tea again next month.