#excuse me sir ... monsieur...

[rickybaby]

"My nose ..." Daniel on what he is insecure about

#hellooo??? #excuse me sir ... monsieur... #how do i send daniel my love letter on his nose and his side profile?? #someone get him to read my blog actually #its a never-ending love letter to his big beautiful italian nose and his beautiful roman profile #daniel ricciardo #noel miller

[xiaowhore]

hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!

premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)

word count. 1.5k

note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.

You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.

You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?

You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.

But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!

With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.

Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.

“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.

“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”

When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”

That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.

Still.

“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”

...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”

He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.

“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”

“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.

Silence ensues.

“Do you like showers, sir?”

You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.

“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.

You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”

Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”

Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”

“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”

Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”

“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”

“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”

“Really, now?”

“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”

You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”

“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.

You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.

“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”

“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”

“In court, I only state facts.”

You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.

“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.

“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.

“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.

“You should still keep it.”

He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”

You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”

Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”

And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.

The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.

That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”

You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”

Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”

“Hey!”

(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in—

But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)

#neuvillette x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact scenarios #neuvillette #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette x you #genshin impact x you

[bowandcurtsey]

When someone else calls their s/o with their last name for the first time

(bc boys version) Haikyuu boys version here

So I decided to do a little quick piece amidst the 1700 event requests, because I miss black clover contents and I personally loved this fic and idea hehe. Here's one for all of you, something sweet and fuzzy.

Yami | Nozel | Fuegoleon | Zenon x F! Reader TW: unchecked You may of may not want to read this before reading yami's fic

Yami Sukehiro

You had to drag you husband’s ass out to the apartment viewing. You knew that low key, he found it hard to leave the bulls HQ. Afterall it was a place he found, built and had for a very long time.

But now that you’re married, it was only right for you two to have some alone and peaceful time without the walls breaking or anything catching fire at home.

Yami compromised to move and you compromised to find a place where the base can be nearby too.

“So, Mr Yami, your wife came the other day and she loved this place, how do you like it?”

“Yeah, whatever she likes.” Yami shrugged, he was okay with whatever, so long as you’re living with him.

“You have a lovely hubby, Mrs Yami. Aren’t you a lucky lady~” the agent smiled at you before her phone rang.

“Oh I have to get this, please excuse me for awhile, feel free to look around!” And she stepped out of the apartment

“So, Mrs Yami,” you were wrapped by his huge frame from the back, “is this our new love nest?”

You blushed and swatted him playfully, “if you like it!”

“I like it so long as the neighbours are okay with loud noises,” he smirked.

Nozel Silva

You were really busy with the wedding preparations , so you sent your fiancé to collect your customised gifts for your bridesmaids.

He stepped into the store and handed the receipt to the shopkeeper.

“Oh Mrs Silva’s gifts~” the lady said as she scurried to the back of the store.

Nozel stood there, stunned by what she said.

“Here you go,” she handed him the gifts awhile later, “you are Mr Silva?”

Nozel blinked, coming back to his senses, “yes.”

“Ah, Mrs Silva speaks a lot of you, I can tell she loves you very much.”

A blush crept up Nozel’s cheeks and painted it a tint of pink.

When he came home, he handed you the gifts.

“Thank you honey,” you smiled as you inspected the meticulous work.

“You’re welcome, Mrs Silva” he whispered in your ears before pressing a peck on your cheek.

Fuegoleon Vermillion

“Is Mrs Vermillion in?” A florist came into the crimson lion HQ one day.

“Mereo!” Fue was walking out from the pantry, “someone’s looking for you”

Mereo came out from the pantry with a cup of coffee in hand, “what?”

“Mrs Vermillion, I was told to come here to meet you,”

Mereo stared at the man for a few seconds, “what did you call me?”

The poor man read out the name on the paper carefully, “Mrs Ver-Mil-Lion, did I get that right?”

“Oi, dumb brother,” Mereo marched into Fue’s office to drag him out.

“Say it louder to his face, you’re looking for who again?”

“Mrs Vermillion, sir.”

Fuegoleon’s face turned bright red as he heard it from someone else for the first time.

“M-my wife-”

“Oh the florist is here!” You suddenly came in through the doors.

“Ah, Mrs Vermillion, I’ve been looking for you,” he bowed.

Fue stood there smiling with pride, he had to purse his lips a little so his smile wouldn’t get too wide as he listened in on the conversation with you and the florist on how to decor the place for the upcoming Crimson Lion anniversary.

You thanked the florist as he left.

“Mrs Vermillion sounds good on you, honey” he couldn’t contain his wide smiles.

“Oh honey,” you rolled your eyes cheekily at him, “please, your lips are about to reach your ears!”

Zenon Zogratis

He was kinda mad at you for going on a mission without telling him, so he didn't say a single word on the way to the restaurant as you celebrated your monthly date night.

"Do you have a reservation monsieur?" a waiter greeted you both.

"y/n." Zenon gave the waiter your name, since you booked the restaurant for tonight.

"let me see..." he scanned through the list of names, "ahh, Mrs Zogratis, si?"

"yep." you nodded shyly.

"And you must be Mr Zogratis, sir." the waiter beamed at the both of you, "lovely couple we have tonight, welcome in~"

He led you both to a quiet corner where you could oversee the spade kingdom. "Let me know when you're ready to order, Mr and Mrs Zogratis."

"are you still mad, Zen? You weren't back yet and it was a fast mission, so it slipped my mind to leave a note for you," you jutted your lip, pouting at your man.

"how could I stay mad, Mrs Zogratis?" his head rested on one hand, as he looked at you with soft ocean blue eyes.

You smiled shyly, it seemed surreal that now, you were married to this man.

"hmm, I should use this trump card more often~" you joked.

Zenon chuckled as he shook his head, what will he ever do with you.

#black clover zenon #zenon zogratis hcs #zenon zogratis x reader #zenon x reader #fuegoleon imagine #fuegoleon vermillion x reader #fuegoleon vermillion hc #fuegoleon x reader #nozel silva x reader #nozel imagine #nozel x reader #yami x reader #yami sukehiro x reader #yami sukehiro headcanons #black clover headcanons #black clover imagine #black clover x reader #black clover scenarios #black clover fanfiction #black clover imagines #black clover x you #black clover x y/n

[mimi-cee-genshin]

Flowers and Canes - Neuvillette x f!reader

Summary: It had initially taken some time for you to be integrated into Palais Mermoria, but it's been much livelier with you around. You even try to occasionally make Neuvillette laugh. As a result, the Chief Justice doesn't mind indulging in your requests every so often.

Other info: humor, fluff, pre-relationship, subtle crushes, dialogue heavy, female reader, disabled character, 1.7k words

*****

"Monsieur Neuvillette," said the man at the door of his office. "Here's the information about the recent theft at the–"

"Oh oh! Give it to me!" you waved him down from the couch. "I'll handle it for him."

Neuvillette was reviewing a different document when he raised his eyes to see the man waiting for his permission to give it to you.

"Ah, yes," Neuvillette said after clearing his throat. "She works here. You can hand it to her."

You ripped the envelope open once you got your hands on it and Jocelyne leaned onto your arm to take a peek at the document as well. Her short legs swung off the edge of the couch just like any other Melusine's would.

"What?" you exclaimed, narrowing your eyes at the letter.

"Huh? What's the matter?" Jocelyne asked. "And why are you squinting?"

"Sir, what is your name again?" you asked the messenger. "I don't quite recognize your voice."

"My apologies. My name is Clément," he said. "I'm new here."

"Oh. Well then, Monsieur Clément. It seems that you have given me the wrong paper."

"What?"

Neuvillette could tell from your voice that you were lying. He picked up his glass for a drink. Your pranks were nothing new to him.

"This looks like a prescription for some stool softeners," you said.

"What?" Clément panicked. "How did that get there?"

Neuvillette coughed up his water.

"Did you hear that, Jocelyne?" you exclaimed. "Neuvillette laughed just now!"

"Stop with your antics already," Jocelyne said, crossing her arms. "It's rude to make Neuvillette laugh at other people's expense."

You held up the document. "But is this really a prescription–"

Jocelyne snatched the paper from you. "Thank you, Monsieur Clément," she said politely. "This is the correct document. We will ensure the record will be updated and organized."

"Oh, I see," said Clément with a hand on his chin. "So this was an attempt to make the Chief Justice smile today? Laugh even?"

"Of course!" you said.

"In that case, you can poke fun at me as much as you want."

"Excuse me?" asked Jocelyne.

"It's a rare sight to see the Chief Justice laugh," he reasoned.

"See, Jocelyne," you said. "He gets it!"

She only sighed in exasperation. It really was a spectacle for others to see him laugh. They were in Fontaine where even trials were forms of entertainment after all.

"Hmmm… but now that I think about it, aren't you one of the typewriters?" Clément asked you. "Shouldn't you be able to read the document?"

"Pshhh. Of course I can," you laughed off. "What are you talking about?"

Jocelyne merely groaned. "I'll go ahead and run it through the Embosser for you."

"Nooooo," you whined, clinging onto her arm and preventing her from leaving. "Don't give me more work to do. Just read it out loud to me like you normally do."

"Hmph. Maybe if you paid more attention to my instructions, I'd be more privy to your requests," she scolded you.

"Alright," Neuvillette cut the conversation short, his voice filling the room. "I think it's about time to resume with your duties, am I correct?"

"Ah," you said bashfully. "Yes, Monsieur Neuvillette."

Clément did a brief bow before leaving, but Jocelyne was halfway to the doors when she noticed you didn't follow her.

"May I stay for a moment?" you asked Neuvillette. "I would like to make a request."

"In that case," said Jocelyne. "I'll stay here in case you can't find your seat–"

"In private," you said through your teeth with a smile. "And you know very well I can find my desk myself, Jocelyne."

"But I wanted to see what he thinks too."

"In private."

"Okay, okay. I'm going," Jocelyne said before leaving the room and closing the door.

The room went near silent with only the ticking of the clock to be heard.

"Alright then," said Neuvillette. "What is your request?"

You stood up, taking your white cane to see where his desk was, and then gave him a large grin.

"What do you think of my dress today?" you asked him.

"It looks nice," he said politely.

"No, no," you replied. "Not like that. Tell me as if you're describing the water you drank earlier."

"Hmm… In that case..." He took a moment to ponder. "I think it's an exquisite shade of violet. But with the hint of red, it's similar to an Agyllis when the sun sets by the waters."

"Oh! That flower? I love how they smell," you told him. "It's not too strong, but there's also a sharpness to it that I can't quite figure out." You smiled and lifted the ruffles of your dress. "So do I look cute today?"

"Indeed. Your dress is pleasant on the eyes."

"Yes!!!" you cheered. "Jocelyne finally picked out something good. And the fabric is so comfortable and lightweight. If I were to be in the sun –not that I would, of course– I'd imagine it wouldn't feel too hot."

"I'm glad you've found something suitable to wear," he said.

You laughed at him. "Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette. When you say it like that, I'd think all my outfits were as horrendous as yesterday's."

He gathered the papers on his desk and neatly placed them to the side. "To be honest, I was rather surprised you allowed Jocelyne another chance," he noted. "The pink was blinding to the eyes and the brownish yellow was a disgusting color. It reminded me of a fried dish one of your co-workers had given me. I doubt that dress would've been considered appealing here in the Court of Fontaine."

"Well, I didn't want her to give up so easily," you said with a soft smile. "It takes a lot of practice and I wanted to encourage her to get better. I mean, my typing used to be incredibly slow because I was afraid of making mistakes. But I'm glad I learned. It has helped lighten your burden as well, right?"

"Indeed. You have my thanks."

You had been working for Neuvillette for quite a few years now. The mood was livelier with you around despite Jocelyne having to put up with your antics. In reality, he found your harmless pranks intriguing. Your smile and the rising of your voice would reveal when you were joking, and he wondered if it was a common practice among other humans. Not all of course. Clément wasn't able to tell.

It had taken some adjustments when you first came to work at Palais Mermonia. Your co-workers weren't sure how to interact with you because they hadn't met anyone like you before. But with some accommodations and your modified typewriter at hand, you worked harder than anyone and became an irreplaceable part of the team.

Neuvillette smiled to himself.

"So what was your request?" he asked you.

"Ah." You snapped out of your daze. You must have been enjoying the sound of Neuvillette's clock again. "Would you like to start a garden with me?"

"A garden?"

"Well... maybe a garden isn't the right word if it's indoors with not a lot of sunlight," you said. "We don't want my head to hurt, nor do I want you to accuse me of an assassination attempt…"

"That was one off-handed joke," he sighed. "Must you keep bringing that up?"

You let out a light and delightful laugh.

"Anyway," you continued. "I've been asking around if there are any flowers or plants that require little light and it seems quite a few exist. Would you like to help me?"

Neuvillette placed a hand on his chin. "I don't quite understand. Is there a reason why Jocelyne is unable to lend you a hand?"

"She strongly refuses to help me."

"That's odd. I've heard she enjoys–"

"She strongly refuses to help me."

"Ah… Is that so…" he said, taken aback by your insistence.

It seemed there had been a concerted effort by some of the Melusines to get him to try new activities, specifically ones you'd be able to enjoy. Despite Jocelyne's sharp tone at times, she genuinely did care for you. Before you came along, she wasn't quite sure how to integrate herself among the humans. She truly found a place where she was needed when she was by your side.

"... and it'll obviously be outside of work hours," you continued to ramble, "but you don't have to do it if you don't want to. You're already too busy and there's the case from yesterday, the case from today, and probably a case for tomorrow, so I don't want to pressure you or anything or make any more work for you but…"

"I'll help you."

"...I just thought it'd be nice, and only wanted to offer a suggestion– What???"

"I accepted your request."

You dropped your cane. "Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette! I'm so happy that I–"

"Really????" The doors burst open, revealing a gaping Jocelyne.

"Were you eavesdropping?" you asked her.

"No, I wasn't," she denied. "It's just that Melusines sometimes have a heightened sense of hearing and–"

"But yesterday, you said you couldn't hear me."

"Monsieur Neuvillette," Jocelyne said, ignoring you. "I promise to make sure things with the two of you will go smoothly."

"Ahemmmmm."

"With the gardening," she clarified. "The gardening…"

You shooed her away and Jocelyne promptly closed the doors.

"Well... since you've answered my request, could you help me return to my desk?" you asked Neuvillette with a sweet smile.

"We could ask Jocelyne to return and–"

You held out your elbow towards him while your white cane laid on the floor next to your feet.

"Alright," he said, getting up and picking up your cane. "I shall escort you back to your desk."

As the Chief Justice of Fontaine, this would have typically been seen as special treatment to the rest of the population. Yet, he would indulge just for today. Nobody would fault him for helping a lady who was legally blind.

You wrapped your hand around his arm and he guided you back to your desk with you right by his side.

Yes, nobody would fault him for helping a lady like you.

*****

I hope you liked it. Please check out my other fics if you'd like. :) I have a few other cute and funny ones in my masterlist. (Also, disclaimer: I'm not an expert about being legally blind. I just wanted to try writing for a different kind of reader.)

#neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #neuvillette fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact scenarios #neuvillette scenarios #genshin scenarios #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette gi #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fanfic

[theetherealbloom]

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

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

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

Pairing: 14th Doctor x Fem!Reader

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

Word Count: 15.5k

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

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

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

ENGLAND, THE STREETS OF LONDON — DAY, 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

UNIT HEADQUARTERS, LONDON — DAY, 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gently interject, "Uh, hello?"

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

"Fine," she responds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SOHO — 1925

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Doctor frowns, “What for?”

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

“No. I cast that salt—”

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

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

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

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

You began, “But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Doctor retorts, “You have no choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aces high,” the Doctor asserts.

“You choose,” the Toymaker replies.

“I’ll go first,” the Doctor declares.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Doctor responds, “One… all.”

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

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

The Doctor nods, “Best of three.”

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

Both you and the Doctor exclaim, “Donna!”

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

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

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

UNIT HEADQUARTERS, LONDON — DAY, 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"When you're feelin' sad and low

We will take you where you gotta go"

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

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

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

"Smilin', dancin', everything is free

All you need is positivity"

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

“Colours of the world

Spice up your life”

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

“Every boy and every girl

Spice up your life”

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

“People of the world

Spice up your life

Aah

Slam it to the left

If you're havin' a good time

Shake it to the right

If ya know that you feel fine

Chicas to the front

Ha ha (uh uh)

Go round”

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

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

“Slam it to the left

If you're havin' a good time

Shake it to the right

If ya know that you feel fine

Chicas to the front”

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

"La la la la la la la la la

La la la la la la la"

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

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

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

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

"Take him out, take him out!"

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

"Yellow man in Timbuktu

Colourful, both me and you

Kung Fu fighting, dancing queen

Tribal spaceman and all that's in between"

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

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

"Colours of the world (Spice up your life)

Every boy and every girl (Spice up your life)

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

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

"Hai, sí, ja! Hold tight!"

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

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

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

Breathing heavily, you respond, "The Toymaker."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Toymaker allows it, nodding, “Handmaidens.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Donna and Mel ask in unison.

“What?!” The Toymaker exclaims.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah," Mel responds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your Doctor smiles, "You doubled us."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your Doctor pouts, “Why not?”

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

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

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

UNIT HEADQUARTERS, SUITE 17, LONDON – DAY 2023

INSIDE THE TARDIS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DONNA’S GARDEN — DAY, 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mel chuckles, “Mad Aunty Mel!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TAGLIST:

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

#14th doctor x reader #14th doctor x fem!reader #14th doctor x fem reader #14th doctor #10th doctor #doctor who #fourteen x reader #fourteenth doctor #dw specials #dw spoilers #doctor who special #doctor who 60th anniversary #dw 60th #60th anniversary

[siren-sashimi]

Sweet spot HC Scenario; [Marquis Vincent de Gramont x pastry chef!reader]

notes: Based on an anonymous request. They meet before Vincent owns the title of Marquis. Assumed the reader and Vincent speak French with each other.

☞ So here it goes: It's the time shortly before Vincent intrigues himself into the position of the Marquis de Gramont. Still working as practicing assassin, starving for luxury, well and a breakfast after this shit night, he drags himself through the dawn, through the streets of Brussels. There're a few bakeries open, here and there but none look good enough for his taste, nothing hand made, too fatty and sugary ready mades just shoved in the oven. No he looks for something in which the balance of butter so well beaten it's almost creamy white, the flour, taste thick, the caster sugar a compliment to not a compensation for taste. He passes by a more highclass looking establishment, the fancy one with glass windows installed with the intend for the passerby's to see how the baker's are baking fresh bread, sweets, baps, cakes, and anything else human hands are capable to make out of flour. It is the bakery in which you start your formation as pâtissier, as apprentice relegated to cover the (too early) hours. You just tried out your new variant with you're still critical about: A croissant with pistachio-cream-filling. The cream tastes too strongly against the unique yet delicate nut flavour, overpowering instead of transporting the flavour.

☞ Just one minute, a single minute after the shop officially opens a roughed up looking guy stares (good grief, his big eyes and gaunt features make for a unsettling stare) at the displayed goods. Expensive clothing is nothing uncommon in Brussels (after all, not incorrect joke has it that Belgium's population is by half only European parliamentarians) but in this state, you really hope that you don't have to take care of an entitled rich prick at 6.02am... ☞ So far he orders a coffee (one of the pricey Middle Americas blends, two spoons of sugar) and your pistachio croissant variant. In spite of your initial hesitance... you would be curious how the guests like it. ☞ From the corner of your eyes you see him closing his eyes in a relaxed manner after his first sip of the coffee (good), slightly nodding when he bites of the tip of the croissant (good too, a good croissant should be something you can bake in your groggy half sleep), he bites closer to the middle, where the filling is. A crease between his brows (not good). ☞ "Pardon ? Qui l'a fait?" (Excuse me? Who made this?) "C'était moi, monsieur. Comment pourais-je vous aider?" (That was me, Sir. How can I help you?) His face contorts for a bit. "For this price..." he starts, you can smell the trouble from 5 miles ahead "this is not worth it, just mashed together." Quick deep breath. "It is still in development..." "And you offer this to guests?" (Well, you're not Neuhaus here and your chef deemed it good enough for selling.) He stands up, ready to leave, and you notice without paying. "I'm sorry, Monsieur" you intervene quickly "I can offer you anything on the house - as an excuse. Everything else is our regular offer." Speaking these word hurts your own tongue. Prick.

☞ With a quick raise of eyebrows and a shrug he sits back down, orders a chocolatine. Now you feel feisty. You choose darker, almost too bitter chocolate which the butter smoothes down, tames within the dough, while the deep cocoa flavour unfolds to dark bloom, passing the comfortable warmth of the pastry to a dark floral aroma. You'll make him get something to taste for sure. ☞ One bite of his. Eyelids collapsing in delight, chest heaving, nostrils blowing slowly, while his jaw moves slowly. You got him. Somehow his visible satisfaction feels like sweetest revenge. When he pays you can't help shooting him a quick: "This one of mine too." Prick leaves with no reaction*. You're still feeling a bit triumphant.

☞ What have you done wrong? Some mornings he returns, ordering the pricier coffees (always two teaspoons of sugar, preferably brown sugar - damn he has good taste) yet he rotates between different baked goods, tries out different things. You two barely talk. Most often he looks tired, sometimes a bit dishevelled, other times just like he's been up all night (bags under his eyes not helping to make his face look less haunted) although not as bad as he did when he first set foot into the place. Sometimes he comes with bags, probably he travels a lot, always wears good materials. At some point you wonder if he's either a callboy... or maybe a spy? You wouldn't be wondering if many of them shuffled around Brussels too. Maybe you shouldn't read so much Largo Winch before bed time.

☞ Some day, early December, certificate awaiting you within a few months, he walks in again, no hair straying out of place, new coat, even with... could it be? Real fur on the neck hem. "One Jamaica Blue Mountain-" "Two spoons of sugar, Monsieur?" (question out of courtesy) "Certainly. And..." Green eyes narrowing down on you "one pistachio croissant." Somehow this feels like a test... he hadn't ordered this croissant since his first visit. You think, over the time passed, you nailed it, almost pure nut flavour, cream carrying the taste, ideal medium for cream, canvas for the nutty, almost salty flavour. For whatever reason, serving this sleek peacock your croissant wakes excitement in you. Actually, apart from thinking that he too visibly displays wealth, there hadn't been too much to stir your ire against him anymore... Trying to keep yourself from following his reaction, your try to busy yourself, sorting trays, setting timers for the next baking time - kinda difficult to discreetly shoot an observatory glance when this early he's your only costumer. ☞ You heard the last crunch, you can't help but eyeing him. A smile spreads over his lips. It suits him, the way he's so well dressed, the upright posture, legs folded properly, thoughtful look, slight smile. As if he noticed you staring he looks and asks straight through the empty room: "Why are you stuck here in Brussels?" "Pardon?" He gestures around. "That's a very good place, splendid even, I would say but aren't the true masters not in France?" You have to hold back a laugh. Twat. His French is so clearly Français de l'Hexagon, it would be too easy to assume him having reservations. "I've been to France." you reply with a shrug "Paris even. It was okay." "Okay? Isn't it one of THE capitals of fine cuisine?" "Êtes-vous Parisien?" you mock "I'm afraid to say, that yeah, indeed one really learns excellency in Paris, most reputable places but... even here in Brussels you're given room to breathe. Excellency yes yet you're allowed to take time and experience, refine by reflection. By the way both, Paris and Brussels aren't actually what the countries actually are like. Too clean." He leans back, now looking at you, that comfortable smile on his face. "Not, Parisian, no. Not yet. I see you have thoughts on this matter." "Better call it experience. Here I can dabble a bit in chocolatery as well." "Aren't the best chocolatiers in France as well?" (Not wrong but more like among the best…) "The Swiss would heavily argue against it. And guess what, Jean Neuhaus was Swiss, he emigrated to Belgium." ☞ At that he laughed, baring his teeth. Strangely, for a man this tall, with such intense eyes, large teeth, broad hands, pouty lips… it gave something nice to look at. He stands up, walking up to the counter, reaching out his right hand. "Vincent." You shook it and replied in return. Vincent's hands are enrapturing, callused at the fingertips and palm, lukewarm, a bit of cold from the outside weather on the back of his hand can be left when your hands part. "I will miss this place…" he announces, giving everything around him a quick look "Things played out that I won't visit this city for a while. Yet I will miss the quality here. At my working hours it's difficult to find a decent place." Quick hesitance on your part. Judging from his calluses the possibility of a callboy-occupation diminishes. "If you want, I still got some contacts of my senior apprentices, and some from Paris even. They landed mostly good jobs or opened their own shops. I can give your their addresses, if you want to. Tell them you know me, they give you something to try. Also, it's nice to have someone who appreciates our work and isn't taking the next best thing."

Vincent huffs. "If you vouch for your friends' good craft." He takes your notes. Before he leaves he turns around and tells you: "That pistachio croissant…. Finally worth it's price." Jerk.

*In the Netherlands and Belgium people rarely tip since tipping is included in the prices. (And something, something minimum wage even in food service.) For once Vincent isn't entirely a rich jerk

#Marquis de Gramont x reader #Vincent de Gramont x reader #Marquis Vincent de Gramont x reader #Lily note pad

[chenyann]

Don't look now but....

Ace trappola, Deuce spade, Epel felmier, Jack howl and Sebek zigvolt!!

Ace

"Don't look now but mc is looking at you~◇"

Turns around as fast as he can

It's a miracle he didn't break his neck from the whip lash.

Yall make eye contact.

It's awkward.

Honestly I think he would make a look he never thought he could make-

The most accurate looks:

"Pssst, Deuce why is Ace looking at me like that?" 

"Maybe he is hallucinating after that alchemy test? -♤"

Hm….that looks like a new tie. I wonder where they got it…

He is staring at you for sometime until someone snaps him out of it.

He's just daydreaming that's all (˶ᵔᴗᵔ˶)

Would be staring at you all day-

You know like a stalker

You're just there sweating because you feel his eyes burning through your torso.

Talk to you alone by a big tree on a hill.

"Y/n why were you looking at me at lunch?"

"What do you mean you were the one looking at me?"

Deuce

"Deuce don't look but I think y/n is looking at you -◇"

Would try not to

But in the end he does.

He didn't think you saw him but you did😭

He would glance back at you from time to time.

It's obvious.

It's so very obvious 

If yall make eye contact he panics

Falls out his chair (cutely)

I'm lying that poor boy probably hurt himself😭😭

He is very red

Like a cherry!

He would shy away from you a bit😭

"Deuce are you okay!?" 

"I'm fine…"

"Are you sure? I don't think your leg should face that way…?"

"Yep. I'm good"

Just relocates his leg and walks it off (he goes to the nurses office later) 

Jack

"Shishishi don't look now but I think y/n is staring"

Stops running

Wouldn't stare

At first.

He would

What…? Y/n?

He would be staring at you with the excuse that he was taking a break

He then spots you waving at him-

…they look nice today….

He is just standing there staring at you while you stare back.

You smile at him

OH HIS HEART 

You have the sweetest smile in his eyes

Sadly has to continue with his exercise 😪

He will about it after.

He walks to you all sweaty but very handsome and look he is wiping his face with a towel and look at his man boo- ahem.

"Here."

Gives you some water 

He'd rather not talk about it I guess^^

Epel

"Monsieur Cherry Apple, don't regard (glance), it seems like you have an admirateur (admirer)"

Looks

He has no shame

Yall make eye contact 

That's where he has shame

Yall just gonna have a staring contest.

"Why tf is epel still staring at me…?"

Why aren't you looking away y/n!?

He finally looks away because you would stop staring.

(Your eyes just zoned out)

He is way to bold.

He fr corners you and demands why you were staring at him.

He is like a bully wtf

"WHY WERE YOU STARING AT ME!?" 

Good sir what😀

You try to explain that you zoned out but he completely thinking you were staring.

He thought you were daydreaming about him-

"NO Y/N YOU WERE I SAW YOU?!"

Sebek

"Fufufu sebek it's seems as if y/n is staring at you" 

Stares at you and points

"LILIA DO YOU MEAN THIS HUMAN!"

He has no shame

He won't get embarrassed 

He thinks Lilia saw you as a threat💀

Your just red because you just got called out😭

Like a strawberry!

You try to play it off

Now sebek wonders why you were looking at him.

He talks to you about it when classes are over.

"Human. No…y/n Why were you staring at me! DONT WALK AWAY HUMAN!?"

#yako spreading rumors #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst headcanons #twst scenarios #ace trappola #ace x reader #deuce spade #deuce x reader #jack howl #jack x reader #epel x reader #epel felmier #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Grandpa ( Crewel father ) Crewle snuck in to NRC because they missed their grandpup, like any wolf beastmen he quite protective over his family unit and even glares down any boys near his grandpup, when meeting one of her friends and the most monotone voice with a resting bitch face to match he pointed at them and said " married and mate with that boy pup, he seems to have good quality as a mate "

Points at Ruggie, Silver, Trey, Idia, Jack, Riddle,Jamil, Azul ,Rook and Epel

While Crewle daughter just said " grandpa no I'm too young to marry let alone mate yet, pls stop before I call Granny "

And Grandpa just sass " didn't stop your father having you while he was a student at this school"

Grandpa | Yandere Crewel’s Daughter

Sorry but this would never never happen. While you can be found hanging around NRC you’re granparents are never so out of the loop. You go to the Princess Academy you just visit the campus occassionally. That’s what makes it such a treat when you come around. Holiday or over a weekend its a privilege you have as an exemplary student and daughter to the doting Divus Crewel.  

And do you truly think your dear Granddad would be so out of control that he'd sneak into a school? Let alone the place where his son is diligently employed as a prestigious professor? I think not! Instincts and heritage are no excuse for such misconduct and the Crewel name is still a noble one. It’d be the work of a fool to tarnish the name for something so trivial.

Similar to his dear son. He believes no one is truly worthy and he’d sooner you stay the innocent little girl you’ve always been. He’s in agreement with Divus that no mate is worthy of you let alone anyone at Night Raven. He’d sooner comment on your suitors with disdain on his face and disgust in his tone:

Ruggie Bucci

“A young hyena without a name for himself. It wouldn’t be wise.”

“What!? Why you–”

Silver

“He’s handsome but I won’t suggest counting on that to make up for his lack of energy.”

“Hmmm–what?”

Trey Clover

“A baker…well the appeal is there. Perhaps with some nurturing he’d graze the greatness of a leader.”

“Uhm…thanks?”

Idia Shroud

“Ah the child of the Shroud family….If you…have to…he’ll need your steady hand. I’ll help you if you want to doom yourself.”

“Ouch! Attack Damage–expert level.”

Jack Howl

“He’s a proud canidate…he’s got the making of a great mate!”

“Thank you sir!”

Riddle Rosehearts

“A prodigy is welcomed…Dearest when does a human male stop growing?”

“Grrrrr I assure you height will not impede anything that makes me a good husband!”

Jamil Viper

“A servant? A load of wasted talent I’d say.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t plan to be here forever.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“An octopus? On land? The world truly has gone to the dogs.”

“...Well, good. Sir. I can provide just as fine.”

Rook Hunt

“Oh Lalala Monsieur Crewel!”

“You know of me, boy?”

“Oui oui, I’m an avid watcher of your theatrical poetry! It is an honour to meet you.”

“This one…I like this one.He reminds me of your father…do you have protection on hand?”

“Dad!?”

Epel Felmier

“This is a boy?”

“Father–”

“You have a face of an old friend of mine who was know for being boyishly attractive.”

“Eh?!”

#yandere epel felmier #yandere jack howl #yandere jack howl x reader #yandere jack twst #yandere epel felmier x reader #yandere epel x reader #yandere rook hunt #yandere crewel dad #yandere crewel #yandere papa crewel #yandere pap crewel daughter #yandere crewel daughter #yanderes #yanderes x crewel daughter reader #yanderes crewel daughter #daddy divus crewel #yandere divus crewel x reader #yandere divus crewel #yandere azul twst #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #yandere jamil #yandere jamil viper #yandere jamil x reader #yandere jack x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle roseheart x reader #yandere ruggie twst #yandere ruggie x reader #yandere ruggie

[eileenslibrary]

Keep Your Eyes Peeled

Part One: The Trial

Warnings: Murder, Trial, Death, Heartbreak, Backstabbing

Rain splatters down upon the aqua bus, the cold dreary day soaking into your bones your jacket doing nothing to warm you up, you watch as the cold and lonely plains of Fontaine rush by as the sun shines behind the thick clouds, you think mindlessly as time ticks by like the rain your eyes red from tears your mind in shambles you barely wake up when the melusine announces it's time for you to deboard. You sit for a moment, taking a breath and checking your vision before you get off the bus. The hydro element jingles from the small wind chime you attached to it when you were young the once responsible and noble person gone now replaced by anger and hurt, your heart races as you slowly get closer to the opera house you can hear bells going off in the back of your mind. You stop in front of the fountain grab a coin and flick it into the water ‘Please bring me luck today’ you wish in your mind looking up at the opera house, the water fountains are off today, and it seems that the world weeps for you as well, you breathe in deeply one more time and finally walk into the halls, “Excuse me?” a pink melusine with a short blonde bob babbles pulling on your pant leg to get your attention, you look down “You’re the sibling of the accused right?” she inquires “Yes I am” You sigh “Follow me then, Iudex Nuevillette and Defendant Dominique is waiting for you” you follow her as she leads you to the wing across from your brother, your attorney already standing there, she gives you a pitying smile as you stand beside her “Now that both parties are present, I now declare that the trial of Dominique Vincent is now in session” Nuevillette’s voice echoes throughout the silent auditorium, “In order for the audience to understand the full case may I have some one go over the crime and what had occured on april 19th at 9:24 PM” he says his lavender eyes flitting between the both of you “I shall explain monsieur Nuevillette” Your attorney speaks when you both see your brother go to open his mouth, “On april 19th at 9:24 PM A murder occured, Mr. Dominique shot sir Dumas unwarranted. Mx. Vincent and Dumas were walking from Hotel Debord when Dominique was there waiting for them to come outside he then pulled out a gun and shot Dumas in the chest” she replies. 

You think back to the moment, After a wonderful dinner you and Claude walked out of the Hotel Debord you hadn’t even made it ten steps when a gunshot rang through the air you looked up to see your brother in bloody clothes with a gun in his hand and a manic grin, your eyes widen as you hear your fiance choke, you look over and see his hand on his chest blood spills between his fingers. You catch him as he begins to fall lowering him to the ground adrenaline pumps through your veins, and screams echo in the background “Claude, stay with me, stay with me, please” you cry trying to stop the bleeding one of his bloodied hands grabs onto your arms “(Name) I love you, and whatever you do keep this safe” Claude says slipping a ring into your breast pocket “Claude you can’t leave, Please I need you!” you scream as you watch his eyes land on you as he smiles at you one last time before his eyes dull. You feel a garde grab your shoulders pulling you away from your fiance the sound of another gunshot going off is ringing throughout your ears before the garde yells orders and your brother is thrown in cuffs and dragged away. 

Tears slip out of your eyes as you stare at Dominique your hand slipping to the ring on the chain that hung around your neck “Thank you, in that case, I take your statement to be that You and Claude were at Hotel Debord after eating Dinner, and when you left your brother shot Claude Dumas. Is this correct?”  He inquires “Yes your honor,” you say. 

Dominique's lawyer speaks up “I have rather unfortunate news” he sighs dramatically “I have full proof that it was not Dominique in the wrong, and I declare that it was Dumas who had started it all” he pulls out a file from his briefcase. “On April 19th at 9:24 PM, the accused was walking down with his dear friend Lucia that evening. She had requested he accompany her on a night walk. When he got into a tussle with a thief. He had disarmed the man and demanded answers, The man said it was Claude, and fueled by rage to have this man anywhere near his sibling in harm's way he made some rather rash decisions” he taunts smirking back at you “And how do you have proof of this quote bandit” your lawyer challenges crossing her arms as she glares over her horned glasses, her red lips pulled up into a smirk “We have eyewitnesses you see” he responds quickly.

                “Miss Ruby, Sir La’Cron, and Lady Sirene were all present” he slyly admits pointing to four figures, One in a rose pink dress Madame Lucia, one in a red gown Miss Ruby, one in a blue waistcoat with black trousers Sir La’Cron, and a woman in orange Lady Sirene. Madame Lucia is as sickly sweet as a pickle, Miss Ruby is as vicious as a viper, Sir La’Cron as slimy is as a slug, and Lady Sirene is as conniving as the devil. You tried to steer your brother from these horrible people but he refused to listen to reason. You turn your face away, you know the moment they were revealed you would lose, they were some of the most corrupt nobility in Fontaine and would use their power to turn the tides and flip your unsteady boat painting you and Claude as the villains. You knew he did it, he held a disdain for your fiance. After all, he only wanted you to be just like him. Power hungry, that's the only way you could be even acknowledged. He wasn’t like this once, he was a curious lad with a heart for literature but he met awful people and ever since your mother left for another man, and your father went missing you only had each other. You took most of the responsibility despite being the youngest balancing your family name atop your head like a stack of books. But once you met Claude his heart was soft as feathers on a breezy summer evening ready to hold you tight in his arms, your life lightened your noble duties seemed weightless when he was yours, but now he’s gone and it was you who has to bare the name and pain in a thorny game of janga.

You look back up at your brother a cocky smirk on his face he mouths ‘I told you so’ A fire lights in your heart you barely grip onto yourself from summoning your claymore and beating the hell out of him. Your heart strains against your ribs your lawyer watches you with sad eyes “Mx. Vincent I’m sorry” she whispers “Don’t, save your words” you interject “He won’t be free for long” You look towards Nuevillette “May I request we postpone this until Claude’s parents arrive?” you ask your eyes hardening at him, his lilac eyes hold yours as if testing your sanity, he opens his mouth when an audience member shouts “Just get the verdict out already” Nuevillette sighs looking at the audience everyone seems restless and eager chatter filling the audience. “I shall postpone this so Claude’s parents may have a say in this. And so both parties have time to prepare” He sighs. The audience boos and complains as if this were a mere play as if people's lives and honor weren’t on the line. You can understand them, you never expect tragedy to hit you until it does. And it’s a train that will drag you along the tracks for miles. You stand and walk out of the stuffy auditorium your heart pounding in your chest as if a caged beast only calming Nuevillettte approaches you “If you need help, go visit the duke. He will help bring this to light.” he whispers in your ear brushing your shoulder in a gentle way before walking out of the building you stop your body frozen. You knew who he was speaking of everyone does. For there was only one duke Nuevillette really associated with and even that was fleeting. Monsieur Wriothesley the duke of Fortress Meropide. You breathe in and continue on out of the court house "I guess it wouldn't hurt to try" you hum. 'My mind is already made up, tomorrow I will get a permit and visit the Fortress of Meropide'

#x reader headcanons #angst #genshin impact #wriothesley #nuevillette #fontaine #wriothesley x reader

[weltato]

you ever just-

"excuse me ma'am -ok" "excuse me ma'am -ok" "excuse me sir, excusez-moi Monsieur -ook" "scuse me mum, scuse me dude, scuse me- HEY! that's just rude!"

#no? just me? #ok... #little match girl #vhscc #vhs christmas carols #starkid #team starkid #she just wants to sell a match y'all

[pureanonofficial]

LES MIS LETTERS IN ADAPTATION - He Who Seeks to Better Himself May Render His Situation Worse, LM 2.3.10 (Les Miserables 1925)

“Pardon, excuse me, sir,” he said, quite breathless, “but here are your fifteen hundred francs.”

So saying, he handed the stranger the three bank-bills.

The man raised his eyes.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Thénardier replied respectfully:—

“It means, sir, that I shall take back Cosette.”

Cosette shuddered, and pressed close to the old man.

He replied, gazing to the very bottom of Thénardier’s eyes the while, and enunciating every syllable distinctly:—

“You are go-ing to take back Co-sette?”

“Yes, sir, I am. I will tell you; I have considered the matter. In fact, I have not the right to give her to you. I am an honest man, you see; this child does not belong to me; she belongs to her mother. It was her mother who confided her to me; I can only resign her to her mother. You will say to me, ‘But her mother is dead.’ Good; in that case I can only give the child up to the person who shall bring me a writing, signed by her mother, to the effect that I am to hand the child over to the person therein mentioned; that is clear.”

The man, without making any reply, fumbled in his pocket, and Thénardier beheld the pocket-book of bank-bills make its appearance once more.

The tavern-keeper shivered with joy.

“Good!” thought he; “let us hold firm; he is going to bribe me!”

Before opening the pocket-book, the traveller cast a glance about him: the spot was absolutely deserted; there was not a soul either in the woods or in the valley. The man opened his pocket-book once more and drew from it, not the handful of bills which Thénardier expected, but a simple little paper, which he unfolded and presented fully open to the inn-keeper, saying:—

“You are right; read!”

Thénardier took the paper and read:—

“M. SUR M., March 25, 1823.

“MONSIEUR THÉNARDIER:—

You will deliver Cosette to this person. You will be paid for all the little things. I have the honor to salute you with respect,

FANTINE.”

“You know that signature?” resumed the man.

It certainly was Fantine’s signature; Thénardier recognized it.

#Les Mis #Les Mis Letters #lm 2.3.10 #Les Miserables #Les Mis Letters in Adaptation #Les Mis 1925 #Les Miserables 1925 #Jean Valjean #Thenardier #Cosette #Cosette Fauchelevent #Gabriel Gabrio #Andrée Rolane #Georges Saillard #silent film #filmedit #silentfilmedit #lesmisedit #lesmiserablesedit #long post #lesmiserables1925edit #pureanonedits

[pleasecallmealsip]

L'Ami du Peuple No 214, Tuesday 7th September 1790, my translation

L’Ami du Peuple au sieur Necker

From the Friend of the People to Sire Necker

Si votre démission, Monsieur, n’était pas feinte, si votre retraite était sans retour, si vous aviez rendu fidèlement vos comptes, si vous étiez puni de vos malversations, la justice satisfaite m’imposerait silence. La haine que j’ai portée à un administrateur infidèle, à un ministre dangereux, à un suppôt redoutable du despotisme, expirerait avec votre pouvoir et je ne verrais plus en vous qu’un particulier dont je dédaignerais de m’occuper un moment.

If your resignation, Sir, were not a pretence, if you were to retire with no return, if you had given your explanation faithfully, if you were punished for your malversations, I would be made silent by justice well-served. The hatred that I have held for an unfaithful administrator, for a dangerous minister, for a dreadful supporter of despotism, would expire along with your power and I would no longer see you as anyone other than a private individual whom I would loathe to dwell on for one moment more.

Mais je crois assez connaître votre caractère ambitieux, pour me défier du parti que vous venez de prendre, pour regarder votre départ comme l’effet d’un orage que vous prévoyez et dont vous voulez éviter l’éclat, ou comme le dernier des pièges que vous voulez tendre aux Français. Vous le couvrez du prétexte de l’altération de votre santé, du retour de ces maux qui vous ont mis l’hiver dernier sur le bord de la tombe et qui n’empêchèrent pas le mort ou le mourant de figurer à l’Assemblée nationale pour séduire le peuple. Vous alléguez aussi les inquiétudes mortelles de votre compagne chérie qui vous presse d’aller retrouver l’asile dont vous a tiré l’Assemblée nationale. Mais en dépit de vous, la vérité vient se placer au bout de votre plume.

But I believe I understand your ambitious character well enough to distrust your recent course of action, and see your departure as the effect of a storm that you anticipate and whose thunder you wish to avoid, or as the last of the pitfalls that you wish to set for the French. You mask it with the excuse of the deterioration of your health, of the return of those illnesses that put you at death’s door last winter and did not prevent the dead or dying from standing in the National Assembly to seduce the people. You also put forward the deadly worry of your beloved companion who is pressing you to return to the asylum from which the National Assembly has taken you. Yet regardless of you, the truth appears on the tip of your pen.

En achevant sa phrase, l’ex-ministre donne aux pères de la patrie la clef de l’énigme. “A l’époque de mon arrivée, Messieurs, leur dites-vous, vous approchez du terme de votre session et je suis hors d’état d’entreprendre une nouvelle carrière.” Ce qui signifie : Il faut, Messieurs, que je prenne enfin mon parti ; il n’y a que des gens de votre espèce qui puissent maintenir en place un agent de la mienne ; vous approchez de la fin de votre bail et je suis hors d’état de lutter contre vos successeurs qui, probablement, s’aviseront d’abord de vouloir faire leur devoir, qui m’éplucheront des pieds à la tête et qui me forceront de changer de marche, si plutôt ils ne me livrent à la vindicte publique.

As he finishes his statement, the ex-minister gives the fathers of the patria the key to the enigma.

“At the time of my arrival, Gentlemen,” you say to them, “you are approaching the close of your session and I am not in no fit state to undertake a new career.” Which means: I must, Gentlemen, take my side at last; only those of your type can keep an agent of my type in place of power; you are approaching the end of your lease and I am in no fit state to fight your successors who, probably, will dare to do their duty first, will examine me from head to foot and will force me to change my course, if not expose me to the public vengeance.

Permettez-moi de jeter un coup d’œil rapide sur la manière dont vous justifiez votre administration. Voici vos propres expressions : “Vous m’avez demandé, Messieurs, un compte de la recette et de la dépense, à[1] commencer du premier mai 1790. Je vous l’ai remis. Vous avez chargé votre comité des Finances de l’examiner. Je crois qu’il aurait déjà pu reconnaître s’il existe quelque dépense ou quelque autre disposition digne de reproches. Cette recherche est la seule qui concerne essentiellement le ministère, car l’inspection des titres, la révision des quittances sont particulièrement applicables à la gestion des payeurs, des receveurs et des différents particuliers comptables.” [1] On dira sans doute que le comité des Finances s’entendait avec le fripon, pour n’avoir fixé qu’à cette époque la reddition des comptes.

Let me take a glance at the way you justify your administration. Here are your own expressions:

“You have asked me, Gentlemen, for an account of the revenue and expenditure, starting [1] from the 1st of May 1790. I have given it to you. You have tasked your Finance committee to examine it. I believe that they would have already recognised if there exists any expenditure or other arrangement worthy of reproach. This investigation is the only one that the ministry is essentially of concern to the ministry, since the inspection of the securities, and the reviewing of the receipts are particularly applicable to the management of the payers, the receivers and the various private individuals taking accounts.”

[1] Marat’s note: It will be said doubtlessly that the Finance committee went along with the rascal, having only secured accountability at that time.

Ce qui veut dire que sans s’amuser à vérifier les pièces, vraies ou fausses, le comité des Finances doit se borner à examiner si vous avez bien additionné et soustrait. Or, soyez-en sûr, Monsieur, personne ne s’avisera de douter de votre savoir-faire.

This means that without wasting time checking the documents, be they true or false, the Finance committee must be limited to examining if you have correctly added and subtracted. Yet, you may rest assured, Sir, nobody will dare to doubt your know-how.

La fin de votre lettre est digne d’observation. La voici : “Les inimitiés, les injustices dont j’ai fait l’épreuve m’ont donné l’idée de la garantie que je viens d’offrir. Mais quand je rapproche cette pensée de ma conduite dans l’administration des Finances, il m’est permis de la réunir aux singularités qui ont accompagné ma vie !”

The end of your letter is worth noting. Here it is:

“The enmities, the injustices that I have stood the test of have prompted me to think of the guarantee that I have now offered. But when I bring this thought together with my conduct through the administration of Finances, I am entitled to see it as one of the singularities that have characterised my life!”

Ce n’est pas là, Monsieur, soit dit en passant, le langage d’un administrateur intact, qui s’est empressé de mettre sous les yeux du public, le fidèle tableau de sa gestion, ce n’est pas là le ton d’un cœur pur, oppressé de douleur, qui s’enveloppe dans le manteau de son innocence, moins encore celui d’une âme fière au-dessus de la calomnie, mais le ton d’un homme sans honneur, qui ne s’était jamais offensé des soupçons injurieux tant de fois élevés sur son administration, au milieu même du sénat, mais celui d’un petit intrigant éconduit. Vous accusiez l’injustice du sort. Eh ! qu’y a-t-il donc de si étrange dans ce qui vous arrive aujourd’hui ? Depuis dix ans, vous receviez nos adorations en vous moquant de notre simplicité, et vous nous accabliez d’emprunts. Vous avez affecté de rendre compte de votre gestion dans un temps où rien ne vous y obligeait; vous avez imposé ce devoir à vos successeurs; vous avez refusé dès lors de vous y soumettre vous-même, malgré les instances du public; vous vous êtes joué des ordres des représentants de la nation; enfin vous avez remis un compte où l’on ne comprend rien; vous nous avez donné mille raisons puissantes de vous regarder comme le chef des accapareurs du grain et du numéraire, le père du projet de famine qui a fait notre désespoir une année entière; vous nous avez épuisés par un impôt vexatoire; vous avez opprimé les pauvres dont vous vous disiez le père; vous vous êtes opposé au plan de la liquidation des dettes de l’Etat. Vous fuyez au moment où l’on vous en demande un meilleur, et vous avez le courage de vous plaindre ?

This here, Sir, is incidentally not the language of an intact administrator, who quickly gave the faithful record of his management, to put it under the eyes of the public, this is not the tone of a pure heart, overwhelmed by sorrow, protecting itself in the cloak of its innocence, still less that of a proud spirit beyond the reach of slander, but it is the tone of a man without sense of honour, who has never been offended by the injurious suspicions levelled so many times against his administration, even among the Senate, it is the tone of a little scheming man spurned. You blamed the injustice of your lot. Eh! But what in your current situation is so surprising? For ten years, you have received our adorations while mocking our simplicity, and you have overloaded us with loans. You assigned yourself to account for your management at a time where you were under no obligation to do so; you imposed this duty on your successors; you refused thereupon to submit to it yourself, despite the insistence of the public; you toyed with the orders of the representative of the nation; finally you left us with an account that is incomprehensible; you have given us a thousand compelling reasons to regard you as the chief of the monopolisers of grain and of cash, the father of the famine project that has caused our despair for a whole year; you have depleted us with a vexatious tax; you have oppressed the poor whose father you claimed to be; you have opposed the plan of the liquidation of the debts of the State. You flee as soon as we ask for a better account, and now you have the nerve to complain?

Vous accusez le destin de la singularité des événements de votre vie. Que serait-ce si, comme l’Ami du Peuple, vous étiez le jouet des hommes et la victime de votre patriotisme ! Si, en proie à une maladie mortelle, vous aviez, comme lui, renoncé à la conservation de vos jours pour éclairer le peuple sur ses droits et sur les moyens de les recouvrer ! Si, dès l'instant de votre guérison, vous lui aviez sacrifié votre repos, vos veilles, votre liberté ! Si vous vous étiez réduit au pain et à l’eau pour consacrer à la chose publique tout ce que vous possédiez ! Si, pour défendre le peuple, vous aviez fait la guerre à tous ses ennemis ! Si, pour sauver la classe des infortunés, vous étiez brouillé avec tout l’univers, sans vous ménager un seul asile sous le soleil ! Si, accusé tour à tour d’être vendu aux ministres que vous démasquiez, au despote que vous combattiez, aux grands que vous accabliez, aux sangsues de l’Etat auxquelles vous vouliez faire rendre gorge, si, décrété tour à tour par les jugeurs iniques dont vous auriez dénoncé les prévarications, par le législateur dont vous auriez démasqué les erreurs, les iniquités, les desseins désastreux, les complots, la trahison, si, poursuivi par une foule d’assassins armés contre vos jours, si, courant d’asile en asile, vous vous étiez déterminé à vivre dans un souterrain pour sauver un peuple insensible, aveugle, ingrat! Sans cesse menacé d’être tôt ou tard la victime des hommes puissants auxquels j’ai fait la guerre, des ambitieux que j’ai traversés, des fripons que j’ai démasqués, ignorant le sort qui m’attend et destiné peut-être à périr de misère dans un hôpital, m’est-il arrivé de me plaindre ? Il faudrait être bien peu philosophe, Monsieur, pour ne pas sentir que c’est le cours ordinaire des choses de la vie. Et il faudrait avoir bien peu d’élévation dans l’âme pour ne pas se consoler par l’espoir d’arracher, à ce prix, 25 millions d’hommes à la tyrannie, à l’oppression, aux vexations, à la misère, pour les faire enfin arriver au bonheur.

You blame fate for the oddity of the events in your life. But what if, like the Friend of the People, you were toyed by men and victimised for your patriotism! What if, plagued by a life-threatening disease, you had, like him, renounced the preservation of your living days to clarify the rights and means to recovering rights to the people! What if, from the instant you were healed, you had sacrificed for them your repose, your waking hours, your freedom! What if you were reduced to bread and water to dedicate all your possessions to the res publica! What if, to defend the people, you had warred on all their enemies! What if, to save the class of the unfortunate, you fell out with the whole universe, without holding for yourself one single asylum under the sun! What if, you were alternately accused of being bought by the ministers you unmasked, by the despots you combatted, by the great ones you condemned, by the bloodsuckers of the State from whom you sought reparations, what if, you were in turn under the decrees of the iniquitous judges whose prevarication you would have denounced, by the legislator whose errors, iniquities, appalling purposes, schemes, and treason you would have unmasked, what if, you were pursued by a mob of assassins armed against your livelihood, what if, running from asylum to asylum, you were determined to live underground so that you might save an insensible, blind, and ungrateful people! Always under the threat of eventually falling victim to the powerful men I have fought against, to the ambitious men I have crossed, to the scoundrels I have unmasked, with no idea of the lot that awaits me and probably doomed to perish miserably in some hospital, have I ever complained? A quite unsound philosopher alone, Sir, would be able to deny that this is ordinarily the way things go. And quite undignified a soul alone would not find solace in the hope to wrest, at this price, five and twenty million men from tyranny, oppression, from vexation, and from misery, to see that they eventually find their own happiness.

Quant à vous, Monsieur, vos destinées sont un peu différentes. Vous avez sacrifié les adorations d’un peuple idolâtre aux sourires d’une cour perfide, dont peut-être vous avez encore la faveur. Mais il vous reste des trésors. Vous ne passez plus pour Aristide, mais vous êtes encore Luculle. Est-il un seul monarque qui ne s’empressât de vous offrir une retraite honorable, est-il un seul plaisir dans la vie que puisse donner la fortune et qui vous soit refusé ? Voluptés, honneurs, dignités, tout vous attend. Vous pouvez disposer de tout, excepté de l’estime des cœurs droits et des âmes élevées, ou de la gloire qui n’est pas non plus le prix de l’argent.

As for you, Sir, your destiny is a little different. You have sacrificed the adorations of an idolatrous people for the smiles of a perfidious court, whose favour you still will have. But you are left with treasures. As Aristides you can pass no more, but as Lucullus you remain no less. Is there a single monarch who would not be quick to offer you an honourable retirement, is there a single pleasure in life that fortune grants denied to you? Voluptuousness, honours, dignities, all await you. You can own everything, except the esteem of upright hearts and dignified souls, and except glory, which money still cannot buy.

Quoi qu’il en soit, Monsieur, si votre retraite n’est pas jouée, dès aujourd’hui, je m’impose à votre égard un éternel silence. J’ai travaillé à votre chute avec un zèle peu commun ; mais à l’instant que vous n’êtes plus un homme public dangereux, vous redevenez pour moi un particulier sans conséquence.

Be that as it may, Sir, as long as your retirement is not a prank, from today, I impose on you an eternal silence. To defeat you I have worked with quite uncommon zeal; but the moment you stop being a dangerous public figure, to me you revert to being a private individual of no importance.

#frev #french revolution #jean paul marat #marat

[fabioquartararhoe]

should wr call fabio sir? excuse me monsieur

#fabio #fabio quartararo #motogp

[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 1: Bitter taste

Water splashed beneath my feet. My head hung low as I walked to the reception area of the prison. Only one thing on my mind. How did this happen to me?

"Is that her?" I heard whispered as I slumped along with a decently sized packet of papers.

"Yeah, the one who freaked out and nearly killed ten guards unarmed. They said she was hopped up on some weird drug from Sumeru." The guard said quietly talking with the other guard.

I frown and grit my teeth. So the word had even reached here at the bottom of this stupid ocean-like lake. I wanted to cry.

The truth was the only thing I remember from the night they were discussing was being stabbed by some researcher from my mother's homeland of Sumeru. The blade was a type of Mortal Kris that had a weird green glowing fluid on it.

The memory of when I awoke was hazy.

"The wound through her stomach is not like ones we've seen your honor. It was not from one of the guards who had taken her down." A doctor with deep auburn hair said to a tall man in blue robes.

"Are you saying this criminal was attacked before she harmed any of our guards?" The tall man asked.

"And drugged by the looks of this blood test. It shows the same patterns as the cases with our citizens who overdosed on that new drug from Sumeru. My guess is that's what caused the dendro element to overpower her body." The doctor said.

"Does she have a Dendro vision?" The tall man asked.

"No, we haven't found any traces of a vision. The only explanation is the drug."  The doctor said.

"That doesn't explain a lot, but no matter. Once she awakens, I would like to speak with her." The tall man said.

"Yes, Chief Justice," the doctor said turning towards me, "Archons, apparently the young lady is awake."

I gazed up at the tall man. He had bright white hair and slit purple eyes. A stern gaze lowered upon my frame. When he walked up to the bed, I noticed he walked with a cane.

"Greetings, my name is Nuevillette. I'm the one investigating your case along with several members of Palais Mermonia. You caused quite a stir when you were last awake. You've been unconscious since you were detained." He said staring down at me.

"My apologies, sir. Is there anything that I can help you with?" I asked looking down at the handcuffs that bound my wrists.

"Can you recall the events of the night? Any details would probably help lessen your sentence. You are going to do time sadly. Given your circumstances, it would be in your best interest to help us." Nuevillette said as his fingers twitched on his cane.

"I honestly don't recall much... I was walking along the road to the fountain of Lucine. There was this group of three men, two were ordinary-looking Fontaine men. They were giving directions to this one guy, who had shaggy sandy blonde hair. When that guy turned and looked at me, it was like something came over him. He called me Tia and ran me through with a Kris blade." I winced and held my hand to my bandaged wound.

"My apologies, as the Chief Justice of Fontaine I should have checked that road near the Opera Epiclese. I'm sorry you had to experience that however, that doesn't excuse what you did last night. Now continue if you would." The judge said sitting down next to me.

I nod tears streaking my eyes, "I remember falling over and dragging myself over to the fountain of Lucine. It was raining so I was pretty sure the was no blood trail. Soon I started to feel hazy, and the pain in my stomach went away. I remember standing and stumbling toward the fountain. I looked at my hand and there was this glowing green stuff. The guards were running toward me and the guy who stabbed me was nowhere in sight."

"Monsieur Nuevillette, would you like some water?" A nurse walked over to the door and asked him.

"Yes please and bring a glass for... oh I am sorry I seem to have forgotten to ask your name," Nuevillette asked looking at me.

"Silva, just Silva." I sigh hesitating to bring up the fact I don't know my surname.

"Alright, I shall bring you both some water." The nurse left.

"Thank you, now please continue Ms. Silva." He said looking quite sorrowful compared to the stern glare he had earlier.

"There is not much left to tell. I remember hearing the guards approach me. There was this deep voice. I couldn't tell whether it was male or female but I remember hearing a mantra or prayer of sort." I said grabbing at my left eye as pain seared through it.

I saw Nuevillette's glaze shift to concern. The rain started planking against the windows of the room. Was it raining before?

"What was the prayer?" He asked gently.

"Ode to the kings who walked upon ye ancient lands. Let the primordial mother's blessings flow through you. Let your joy envelop your fears and bloom into a bright tomorrow." I said staring into his strange eyes, "After that last sentence, all I remember is seeing green. It was like looking through stained glass. It was so hazy like looking through someone else's glasses. I heard I assaulted ten of the guards who tried to help. I assume those are my charges."

"Yes, they are. Now your trial is scheduled for tomorrow. I know it is not the best set of circumstances but we do have proof you were under the influence of a drug that is popular in Sumeru. There is a chance if we found the man that stabbed you we could get this thrown out." He said standing taking the glasses of water from the nurse who had just returned.

"There is no point," I said grimacing at the bitter taste in my mouth from the words I had just spoken.

"And why is that? Everyone in Fontaine has the right to a trial in front of the Oratrice Mecanique D'analyse Cardinale be they a traveler or citizen." He said almost offended I declined a trial.

"There is no point for a few reasons. Point a being, all I remember about the man was he had on Sumeru desert clothing and his weapon was a Mortal Kris most likely from Inazuma. Point B is that even if I was drugged I am still responsible for my actions. The final point is that no matter what I went against my morals and harmed unarmed people, I am guilty. There is no need for a trial if I just plead guilty. We can do the sentencing tomorrow." I hung my head.

The rain fell harder as I noticed a single tear fall from the judge's face, "I'll make you a deal... I'll send you to the realm of the exiles in Fontaine, and in exchange you'll keep trying to remember details of the man who stabbed you. You still deserve justice for what happened to you." He said looking expectant.

I thought for a moment and nodded, "Thank you Monsieur Nuevillette."

I shook my head stopping in my tracks. That was three days ago. The doctor wanted to make sure the wound was fully taken care of by the hospital's healers. I sometimes wish I had a vision of my own. At least that way I could be effective at using elements other than the potions I had carried before I came to Fontaine.

"Keep moving prisoner!" A burly man in black and red said shoving me in front of a bored-looking woman.

"Name?" She asked.

"Silva... just Silva." I said looking at her dead eyes.

"Alright, I have your file here. Your prison ID number will be one zero six four. Welfare meals are given out once a day and for the rest of your meals, you will have to pay with coupons. You earn them every day by working in the production zone or wherever you are assigned." She said in the most dreary monotonous voice I had heard since visiting that tea shop in Liyue.

"Understood," I sighed looking at the brass-colored walls.

"Keep moving!" The burly guard yelled shoving me away from the desk.

"Okay! Archons geez! I'm going, not everything has to be a fucking rush!" I spat walking forward, a cafeteria appeared on my right.

"Watch your tongue inmate! Keep sassing me and I'll put you on the hard labor list even though that wound is not fully healed." The asshole smirked pointing at the red stain on the bandages on my side.

"The stitching must have opened because of your shoving! Thanks a lot!" I growled clutching my side, "damn it! That nurse must have lied saying the wound was fully closed."

"Not my problem! Now move if it's that bad I am sure you can waddle your bitch ass to the infirmary for the head nurse to take a look at!" The guard yelled shoving me again.

I sighed and walked along to a lift where the jerk motioned for me to get on. I did as told and proceeded on to the lift. My eyes fell to my soaked sandals and I shook my head. As we ascended I heard grumbling from the guard behind me.

"I swear if it wasn't for the duke's new rules this bitch would be bloody on the floor." He muttered under his breath.

That piqued my interest. I heard the old warden disappeared just before I arrived in Fontaine. Was the new one enforcing new rules within these first few months? Impressive, at least in my opinion. When we arrived at the next floor I felt the jerk shove me once again.

"Come on keep moving." The guard snarled pointing to the pathway to the right.

"Yes sir." I bowed my head again feeling rage boil from my dripping wound.

I followed like a punished mutt. He leads me to an open room with one empty bed. It smelled of cold metal, murky water, and dry rot. Turning my head away from the guard as I stepped inside the room. I heard the guard click his tongue in annoyance.

"I see they put you with no roommates. How unfortunate I was hoping a dumb druggie like you would be beaten to death for your attack on guard. One of them was my brother-in-law, as long as I'm here you better keep your guard up prisoner." The man said storming away.

I felt my hands tremble. That bastard just threatened me. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I set my small bag of items down in a corner hidden from view. I lifted my shirt only to see my white undershirt stained a fresh wet red.  I looked in my bag and pulled out the map of the prison.

"So it appears the infirmary is the next hall over. Great hope I don't fucking pass out on my way over." I growled as I hurried my butt over to the main causeway.

As soon as I reached the stairs I felt my knees give out from under me as I tumbled onto the metal floor.

"Well now, I haven't seen you before. You must be our...latest...arrival. Hey! What happened?" I heard a soothing voice ask.

I tried to talk but all that escaped my lips was a moan. I felt more of the stitches snap as I moved to sit up. Lifting my hand from my side to my face, I felt horrified. My hand was completely red.

"Ugh?" I fell limp.

I couldn't tell much of what was going on. All I remember was these soft strict ice-like eyes gazing down at my face. I felt something looking into them. I felt warmth spread around my body and a rushing breeze as it all fades to black.

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact #wriothesley x oc

[sugar-petals]

So I’m watching the world cup and a lot of these players have small waists and big booties, especially Hazard and Neuer 😏

one of the scarce positives of the chaos-cup; hazard = staple, let me add serge gnabry delivering tons of badonkadonk for our team, we won't win but at least we stunned

manuel neuer has body for days, his back arch demolishes homophobes like the curve of his throw, football tumblr is veery emotionally invested in these curves

then there’s the questionable monsieur grizi, my guilty pleasure, french eye candy short king, #1 annoying brat, his ass projects its own gravitational field, IT IS HUGE!!!!!!, as france will go far in the tournament the 2 brioche buns will only become more famous, every man ever should be shaped like this don't @ me

missing the ponytail btw </3 so sad, tragic loss

bonus for unbiased connoisseurs: he might play for *ngland and is likely piloted by aliens but jack grealish is dishing it on??!! excuse me sir but your thighs are offside!!!

#i can feel the unhinged neuer hard stans incoming in 3-2-1- #wc 2022 #world cup #serge gnabry #manuel neuer #jack grealish #antoine griezmann #germany nt #france nt #england nt #football #football memes #world cup 2022 #hard hours

[wisteria-lodge]

Bird vs Lion (Javert vs Valjean)

I've been wanting to annotate this scene for ages, because it's SUCH a good example of a really loud Lion primary (Valjean) and a really loud Bird primary (Javert) just being... unable to communicate. And since everyone is reading Les Mis right now, I thought this would be a good time.

So. Inspector Javert has just arrested Fantine, who has insulted Valjean (in the guise of Mayor Madeleine) on her way into custody.

***

“Sergeant!” [Javert] shouted. “Can’t you see this hussy [Fantine] is making off! Who told you not to let her go?”

“I did,” said Madeleine. (...) 

It was obvious that Javert had been ‘knocked through a loop,’ as they say, to have allowed himself to say what he did to the sergeant after the mayor’s invitation to set Fantine free (...) Had he wound up telling himself that it was not possible for any person of authority to have given such an order and that Monsieur le maire must certainly have said one thing when he meant another altogether? Or else… did he tell himself that it was necessary to resort to extreme measures… and that, in this dire extremity, law and order, morality, governance, society as a whole, were personified in himself, Javert? 

Whatever the case, when Monsieur Madeleine let out that “I did” we heard a moment ago, the inspector of the police was seen to turn towards Monsieur le maire, pale, cold, his lips blue, his eyes desperate, his whole body shaking with a barely perceptible tremor, and he was heard to say something unprecedented: “Monsieur le maire, that can’t be done.” 

Poor Javert is having two equally important parts of his system collide here. ‘Respect all authority figures’ and ‘punish all criminals.’ In this moment, he can’t find a way to do both simultaneously, and it’s sort of breaking his brain. 

“How’s that?” said Monsieur Madeleine.

Madeleine (Valjean) does not get what his problem is.

“This wretched woman insulted a gentleman.” 

She broke the Law! (Objectively true.)

“Inspector Javert,” Monsieur Madeleine replied in a calm, conciliatory tone, “listen. You are an honest man, so I don’t mind spelling things out clearly for you. It’s like this. I happened to be crossing the square as you were carting this woman away. There were still people milling around, I asked a few questions and I found out the truth: it is the gentleman that was in the wrong, and if the police were doing their job, he should have been arrested.” 

The lady only technically broke the law, for understandable reasons. 

She broke the Law!!!!!!!!!

Javert could not stop himself: “This miserable creature just insulted Monsieur le maire.” 

She insulted you, the mayor, a symbol of authority. It is a VERY important part of my system that authority figures need to be respected for society to function.

“That’s my business,” said Monsieur Madeleine. “My insult is mine, if you like. I can do what I like with it.” 

I’m not personally upset about it, I don’t see why you care. 

“I beg Monsieur le maire’s pardon. The insult is not his, it belongs to the system of justice.”

She must be made an example of. People can NOT be allowed to get away with this, especially not to a symbol of authority/structure/governance. No matter how much you PERSONALLY may not be bothered by this specific incident, she MUST be made an example of or others will follow suit and the morals of society begin to crumble. How can you, a man such as yourself, not understand this? You sir. The mayor who has done so much for this town and whom I respect for both his accomplishments and authority? Do my eyes and ears betray me? Surely they must?"

“Inspector Javert,” replied Monsieur Madeleine, “the highest form of justice is one’s own conscience. I’ve heard the woman out. I know what I’m doing.” 

EXCUSE ME? What? No. Why would you think that? That's not how any of this works.

“And I, Monsieur le maire, don’t know what I am seeing.” 

*brain is broken* 

“Then make due with obeying.” 

I don’t know what your deal is. Do you need direct orders to respond to or something? (Valjean is very Badger secondary, you can see it start to kick into gear here, he’s trying to find ANY way to communicate with Javert.) 

“I’m obeying my duty. My duty tells me that this woman should do six months behind bars.” 

I am REMINDING you of the law, which you ALSO have a responsibility to. 

Monsieur Madeleine responded gently: “Listen to me carefully. She will not do a single day.” 

… I feel that the law is wrong. 

At these decisive words, Javert risked a glare at the mayor and said to him, though in a tone of voice that was still scrupulously respectful: 

because you still must RESPECT AUTHORITY

“It causes me despair to go against Monsieur le maire, this is the first time in my life, but he will deign to permit me to observe to him that I am within the bounds of my responsibilities. I will confine myself, since Monsieur le maire wishes it, to the case of the citizen in question. 

He's changing the way he perceives Valjean in that quick, dramatic way Birds do. The Mayor is SUPPOSED to be on the side of Law, just like Javert... but has let him down. And Javert (under stress) is just going to get even more icy and even more polite. 

Valjean (under stress) gets angry.

“I was there. This girl threw herself at Monsieur Bamatabois, who is a voter and the owner of a magnificent house with a balcony on the corner of the esplanade, three stories, all in hewn stone. At the end of the day, some things count for something in this world.” 

We’re starting to get more of a sense of Javert’s system here. People have roles/symbols/functions in society, which must be respected if society is to stay intact. (Also, Victor Hugo was obsessed with architecture, and you can tell that he’s a Bird primary who… absolutely identified with Javert, which is honestly probably why he comes down so hard on Javert in the text.) 

“Anyhow, Monsieur le maire, this matter is a case for the street patrol and so it concerns me, and I am holding this woman, Fantine.” 

The structures that I believe in say that this situation is the responsibility of the Law. Stop getting in the way of my duty to enact this vital societal function. (I respect you a whole lot less than I did five minutes ago.)

At these words Monsieur Madeline folded his arms and said in a harsh voice that no one in town had ever yet heard: “The case you are talking about is a matter for the municipal police. By the terms of articles nine, fifteen, and sixty-six of the code of criminal law, I am the judge of it. I order this woman to be set free.” 

Oh screw you. If you want letter of the law I will GIVE you letter of the law. (This is one of the places where aggressive Bird secondary model Valjean shows up. He *knows* how to do his job.)

Javert struggled to make one last stand. "But Monsieur le maire -” 

Valjean just threw the book at him, and the book is holy. There’s not much Javert can do here. Valjean might as well be quoting Bible verses. 

“Let me refer you to article eighty-one of the law of December 13, 1799 on arbitrary detention.” 

Yeah. I’m not going to waste time with you. 

“Monsieur le Maire, allow -” 

“Not another word.” 

I’m pissed now. 

“But - ”

“Not another word” 

I’m PISSED now.

Javert took the blow standing, full on and bang in the chest like a Russian soldier. He bowed practically to the ground to Monsieur le maire, and left.  

And Javert ends the scene experiencing a contradiction in his System that is physically painful for a bird as rigidly dedicated as he is. Honestly a huge part of the tragedy of this guy is that a fix-it is *so plausible.* Javert is so earnest, and tries so hard, and you get the impression that if he had a few more interactions like this he might have been able to transform his system into something more elastic.

#les miserables #inspector javert #javert #jean valjean #sortinghatchats #shc #the brick #bird primary #lion primary #bird primary vs lion primary #javert character analysis #javert meta #les mis