woolly cardigan

Accidents Happen (Draco x Ravenclaw Reader)

Requested by: @loveabledracolover

REQUEST HERE

Word Count: 2396

Warnings: Language, one death threat!

Summary: The reader is Ravenclaw and begins to fall for Draco Malfoy but hides it well. Draco also then begins to fall for the reader by accident. Then he speaks to Blaise about it.

A/N: UMM I might make a part 2 because I feel like I could do more with this? Please let me know if you want a part 2 and if you don’t then please tell me too lols <3


She annoyed him. He acerbated her. Every time his egocentric character came into the room, she felt a despiteful burning in her chest, for she was one that always fell victim to Draco Malfoy. He would find a different thing to taunt her for every day; usually however it came down to her being pureblood. This perplexed people; never would Draco insult somebody for being the same as himself, except for when it came to her. He would usually call her disgrace t purebloods, as she was not a Slytherin. She knew there was nothing more contemptible than he- she apprehended the way he walked around, a type of swagger in his walk. The way he would scrunch his face up at anybody who was not a student in Slytherin. Worst of all, she noticed how he treated muggleborn students at Hogwarts. The Ravenclaw girl was always filled with contravention when she heard the slander ‘mudblood’ fall from his lips. Many times had her companions had to restrain her from hexing the boy. She knew much about his family, she had cogitated his entire family and traced back his bloodline, and delved into their political beliefs. Needless to say, there had never been anybody that she disagreed with more.

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anonymous asked:

Hello! I was wondering if you could do something along the lines of a Remus Lupin x hufflepuff!reader. Like they always see each other at the library and theyre quiet and shy around the other but there like fluff and stuff????

He was there again.

You tried, oh how you tried, to keep your eyes on the page of the novel in your hands, but the traitors kept straying to look at him. Perhaps you’d have been able to stop looking at him, had you not caught him looking at you too.

Remus Lupin always seemed to be in the library when you were. You’d fallen for him way back in third year, and your feelings were just as strong now in sixth year. You weren’t sure if it was his beautifully messy hair, his kind but melancholy eyes, or his rather wonderful taste in books, but you had fallen for him hard.

Remus sighed, returning to the beginning of the sentence he’d spent the last ten minutes trying to read. His eyes kept drifting to where you sat at the next table, bundled up in a woolly cardigan with a cup of tea in a saucer beside you as you read. He chuckled to himself; you must have been the only person he knew, other than his grandmother, who still used a saucer when drinking tea. It was yet another adorable quality of yours.

He bit his lip, realising that you were now about halfway through your book. Knowing that it was the second book in the series you were reading and therefore that you would borrow it soon, he had left a note in the middle to try and break the ice between the pair of you. He had thought, by placing the note halfway through the book, that he would have a few days to mentally prepare himself, but you were a much faster reader than he gave you credit for.

You frowned slightly as you slid your finger behind a page and felt an odd sheet of paper. For a moment, you wondered if the page had come loose from the bindings, but when you lifted the book, a folded sheet of paper fell out.

Confused, you unfolded the page to see a note in a thin, sloping hand.

“I don’t think we’ve met, but based on your choice of literature I think we would make great friends,” you read in a whisper, a smile spreading across your face. You looked up and caught Remus watching you nervously. You held the note up, raising your eyebrows in question, and he nodded slightly.

Deciding to channel your inner Gryffindor and take a risk, you swept your textbooks into your bag and marked your page in your novel before standing and collecting your coat from its nearby chair. Remus looked panicked for a few moments, thinking that you had taken offence and were leaving, before you sat down opposite him at his table.

“Hi,” you said quietly, a shy smile on your face. He smiled back, his expression one of relief.

“Hi,” he breathed. You bit your lip.

“I liked your note,” you told him, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You like Jane Austen too?”

Remus nodded enthusiastically, and began talking about his favourite book. You listened, enraptured, and with every word that left his mouth you felt yourself falling for him even more.

He was definitely right. This was the start of a beautiful friendship.

anonymous asked:

I just realized that Roger and Bree had a parallel to Jamie and Claire during courtship: When Jamie and Claire were on the road collecting rents, Jamie slept *outside* Claire's room with Claire's blanket on him for warmth. He honorably slept on the floor. When Roger and Bree went to the celtic music festival, they were out so late he took her to his place and she slept on his bed, Roger on the floor with Bree's sweater for warmth. Honorable men, both.

Hi anon - I never made that connection, but you’re so right:

For posterity - here is the passage in Outlander:

“You can’t sleep out here,” I said. “Come in; at least the floor in the room isn’t quite this bad.”

Jamie froze, hand on the doorframe.

“Sleep in your room with ye?” He sounded truly shocked. “I couldna do that! Your reputation would be ruined!”

He really meant it. I started to laugh, but converted it into a tactful coughing fit. Given the exigencies of road travel, the crowded state of the inns, and the crudity or complete lack of sanitary facilities, I was on terms of such physical intimacy with these men, Jamie included, that I found the idea of such prudery hilarious.

"You’ve slept in the same room with me before,“ I pointed out, when I had recovered a bit. "You and twenty other men.”

He sputtered a bit. “That isna at all the same thing! I mean, it was a quite public room, and…” He paused as an awful thought struck him. “You didna think I meant that you were suggesting anything improper?” he asked anxiously. “I assure ye, I—”

“No, no. Not at all.” I made haste to reassure him that I had taken no offense.

And here is the passage from Drums of Autumn:

The night before, they had known they were playing with dynamite, and been more cautious. He wondered if Abernathy would actually have punched him, had he admitted that Brianna had spent the night in his bed?

He had driven them down the mountain, torn between trying to stay on the right side of the road, and the excitement of Brianna’s soft weight, pressed against him. They’d stopped for coffee, talked long past midnight, touching constantly, hands, thighs, heads close together. Driven on to Boston in the wee hours, the conversation dying, Brianna’s head heavy on his shoulder.

Unable to keep awake long enough to find his way through the maze of unfamiliar streets to her apartment, he had driven to his hotel, smuggled her upstairs, and laid her on his bed, where she had fallen asleep in seconds.
He had himself spent the rest of the night on the chaste hardness of the floor, Brianna’s woolly cardigan across his shoulders for warmth. With the dawn, he’d got up and sat in the chair, wrapped in her scent, silently watching the light spread across her sleeping face.

Yeah, it was like that.

But on earth indifference is the least

“You all know I picked you for this group based on the group of ten poems you submitted and I am just going to say, for the record, you all have talent. Or something that highly resembles it. Ten poems’s not all that much to go by,” Agatha announced surveying them with a dry regard Demelza found obscurely soothing.

They were sitting in the small circle that was de rigeur for any creative writing seminar, at least in Demelza’s limited experience, and she wondered again how she’d made it in to the class that was pompously titled “Poets’ Atelier: Agatha Trenwith.” Elizabeth Chynoweth had been featured in every issue of the university literary journal and Demelza knew from overhearing him at the few parties they’d attended together that George Warleggan had won an online chapbook contest, by the unpreposessing Oppossum Press, but still. Still. She almost hadn’t applied but Verity, her roommate and friend and relentless cheerleader had convinced her to; it had taken a whole bottle of cheap white wine to get the courage to hit the submit button, but she’d gotten the acceptance email and found herself in the seminar room that was supposed to encourage “art” because it had big windows along one white wall, stripped oak floorboards and some wooden charis Demelza was sure people in the 50s would have happily thrown out as crap. The view from the room was unimpressive, neighboring buildings not old enough to have any interesting period touches, not new enough to inspire any musing on the contrast between concrete and sky. Still, she looked out the windows because it was less risky than getting caught staring at the other members of the class– Francis doodling in the expensive notebook with a fountain pen, Elizabeth nodding along to Agatha, gorgeously brooding Ross in the black leather jacket that should have been a pathetic cliché but which was startlingly, desperately not.

“I’m sure you agonized over which poems to pick. For the next session, I want you to bring the one you didn’t include– I want to see what you reject, what you think isn’t good enough, what won’t make the right impression. That’s the one we’ll talk about,” Agatha said, smiling at them. She looked like an eagle or a falcon, there was something raptor-ish about her face, the carnal gleam in her eyes, and yet her tone had been almost affectionate. Perhaps that was what power did for a person or genius, Demelza thought, allowed such unapologetic discrepancies. She fiddled with the hem of her second-hand woolly cardigan and considered the poem she’d have to share. For though she had a journal-full of lyrics and verse she hadn’t chosen, she’d known as soon as Agatha had spoken which poem was meant to be examined.

“And Ross, darling, not another sonnet,” Agatha added as they were all standing up, picking up leather satchels and messenger bags, shoving phones into pockets, tucking in an ear-bud in preparation for a solitary walk down the busy city street. Ross flushed and George laughed, a vile, scraping sort of sound infused with his self-satisfaction.

“George, if only I had the same request to make of you! You might acquaint yourself with an iamb,” Agatha said sharply, rising higher in Demelza’s estimation with the remark than for her many well-received books, her awards, even the second-to-last poem in her last collection that Demelza had memorized as soon as she read it. She felt more comfortable with the prospect of sharing the poem she’d set aside. She found herself wondering what Agatha would say, how Ross’s expression would change and if she’d be brave enough to look.

picture this, me as an old woman, the locals call me haggard because of my bushy hair and over-sized woolly cardigans. im out late again, in the forest, collecting a bundle of logs for my fireplace

Unable to keep awake long enough to find his way through the maze of unfamiliar streets to her apartment, he had driven to his hotel, smuggled her upstairs, and laid her on his bed,  where she had fallen asleep in seconds.

He had himself spent the rest of the night on the chaste hardness of the floor, Brianna’s woolly cardigan across his shoulders for warmth. With the dawn, he’d got up and sat in the chair, wrapped in her scent, silently watching the light spread across her sleeping face.

Yeah, it was like that.

— 

Roger MacKenzie Wakefield, Drums of Autumn

I’ve always loved this passage. Roger reminds me so much of Jamie - he fell in love with his (future) wife literally at first sight, he loves and admires and cherishes her more than he knew could ever be possible, he relishes the fact that she’s from a different country - an Outlander. He keeps her safe. He inconveniences himself so that she can be comfortable. He loves her beyond all sense, beyond all reason - and across the veil of time.

Yeah, it’s like that.

Destination Australia #12

Destination Australia- Part Twelve

Hello! Yes, I am still alive and kicking, just! 
I am so so so sorry for the wait in between chapters :( I’ve just got a second job and so am juggling those, as well as just finishing my last play with my local am dram club and getting everything ready for Christmas and dealing with my mental health (as well as a very scary physical health problem popping up!)However that still doesn’t excuse my poor behaviour- I promise I will try my very hardest to get this story to you (if anyone is even bothering to read this- If I were you I wouldn’t…) 
Theres only a few chapters left, I am hoping to finish this fic before I leave for my travels late January (to Australia funnily enough…) and I’ve officially paid and sent off everything I need for that, so I should (fingers crossed) have the time! 
I love you all! xxxx

##RECAP##
Finn Nelson wants to play music more than anything, however busking in the streets of London hasn’t provided him with the income he needs to live comfortably. He’s hoping taking his music to the other side of the world will increase his chances (and paycheck)-so to raise funds for the trip he lands himself a part time job in a local cafe, 
During his time at Armando’s, Finn meets sassy and mysterious Rae, falling in at the deep end right away. Will this affect his plans for Australia? With his brother trying to cause trouble for him and his love life, and his father’s worries interwoven to this pull with Rae he begins to find it very hard to leave…

~12~

“What do you get if you cross Santa with a duck?” Finn asks, peeking up at Rae with a childish grin. From where she was sat at the bar, her chin rested tiredly on her palm, she tried to hide her smile as he grinned back down at the little slip of paper.
“A Christmas quacker?” she muttered under her breath, too low for him to hear.
“A Chrristmas Quacker!!” he exclaimed, chuckling to himself and raising his eyebrows at her, as if the reason she wasn’t laughing was because he hadn’t understood the joke. 
“Very funny” Rae replied, rolling her eyes as he she hopped off the barstool “now, are we going to read out every Christmas cracker joke left on the tables, or can we just clear them up and close shop?”
Finn pouted as he continued clearing the last few tables, though smiled to himself again as he caught Rae reading a few of the jokes to herself on the other side of the room.

The weeks had fell into a similar pattern; Finn would walk to work, catching up with Rae along the way, and Elaine would look just as shocked to see them together as she did the day before. They’d be inseparable at work- exchanges of jokes and funny stories of customers, and sharing secret looks across the café when it was busy. After work, it became routine for Rae to invite Finn back to hers where they would talk more about their childhood and how they came to live in London. Every time Rae opened up more to Finn it pulled them closer together, making them so much closer already than they were with anyone else. In fact, When Izzy had invited Finn down to their local on the Thursday evening he suddenly couldn’t imagine being somewhere without her, and so invited her to come along. He hadn’t really imagined needing to be around someone this much…well, ever, yet here he was, not wanting to be out anywhere if it weren’t with Rae and wishing more than anything that she were with him when he got home.
Rae hadn’t been to The Swann before, and so when she had admitted this Finn had leaped at the chance to meet with her to walk together. He walks to their designated meeting spot for the evening, slightly late but with a spring in his step regardless. He’d had a major blow out with James because James had taunted him about wanting to take Rae out, and then had to spend a further ten minutes at home; both calming himself down and apologising to his da.
Finn knew he wasn’t acting very mature on the subject of James, but he knew from the many years of growing up with him that his brother would do anything he could to ruin Finn’s plans. If he were aware of just how much Finn liked Rae, he’d come up with any way he could to deter Rae getting close to Finn.

At last Finn could see Rae waiting on their corner, looking so beautiful all wrapped up in a long sleeved orange dress and leggings, a thick woolly cardigan and scarf keeping her warm. There was a slight look of panic on her face as she looked down the road next to them, which Finn guessed would be fear of him not turning up; that she’d told him too much. The look of relief along with the dazzling smile she gave him as he caught her eye confirmed his thoughts, leaving a small twinge of disappointment at himself for not being earlier.
‘Hey girl’ he smiled at her once they were in speaking distance. He noticed the tops of her cheeks tinge a little pink as she smiled back and gave a little wave.
He crossed the final steps to her and engulfed her in a hug, breathing in her strawberry scented curls and vanilla perfume and feeling his pulse quicken when she wound her arms around his waist.
‘You alright?’ Finn asked when they finally pulled apart. The carried on down the street and Finn kept an arm slung around her shoulders.
‘I’m good. Wasn’t sure if you were going to turn up’ she joked, though there was still a hint of uncertainty behind her voice.
Finn ran circles along her back reassuringly ‘Of course I was going to, I’d never leave a pretty girl waiting for me without an explanation’ he winked, biting his bottom lip in a teasing smile ‘I would have been here earlier but I got a little… caught up’
They continued the rest of the walk relatively peacefully- though there was some debate because Finn had admitted he’d showered and got ready with a bit of Reggae playing in the background (something that was ‘an insult to the entire music industry itself’ according to Rae).

When they arrived at the pub, it was full and bustling with its usual punters and seasonal Christmas customers. Finn felt Rae tense slightly under his arm still around her shoulders and upon glancing at her noticed how nervous she was, her beautiful eyes like saucers as she hunched her shoulders forward- almost to make herself feel smaller in the crowd.
‘Hey’ he murmured, too low for anyone but Rae to hear. He stopped them and she looked up at him with a distracted smile, clearly trying to hide her discomfort ‘Is this okay? We can go if…’’
‘’I’m fine’’ She interrupted, raising her eyebrows and giving that little shake of her head that Finn had cracked down as her tell-tale  sign of fibbing.
He didn’t want to push it though, so instead held her closer and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, leaning closer so he could whisper to her. She hitched a breath, and closed her eyes in anticipation.
‘’Rae…’’ He whispered, sending shivers down her spine ‘’What… what does Santa suffer from if he gets stuck in a chimney?’’
Rae relaxed, smirking as she opened her eyes and rolled them at him ‘’Claustraphobia?’’
Finn looked genuinely disappointed, his eyebrows furrowing as he replied ‘’How’d you know?’’.
When he was sure he’d distracted her enough, giving her a reassuring smile they carried on weaving through the pub to the gang’s usual table. They were now pretty late, and so were the last of the little party to arrive.

‘’Here they are! Alright lovebirds?’’ Chop called, announcing their arrival to the others- earning immediate blushes from both Finn and Rae. Everyone exchanged greetings and Rae was surprised that everyone remembered her from her cousin’s party all those weeks ago (thankfully, to Finn’s relief no one mentioned that might have something to do with his constant talk of her whenever he was with them, or his absence from their meetups because he was with her…) and an easy, casual ambience fell upon them as the pair sat down at the table together.
All night they stayed close to each other, always maintaining bodily contact in some way- whether it was their legs pressed against one another’s, or their shoulders. Infact, the more drinks that they consumed, the fuzzier the felt and the further Rae leant into Finn. She was engrossed in some anecdote Archie was spilling about his work, seeming to have forgotten about Finn next to her. Finn was talking to Izzy and Chop on the other side of the table, trying to ignore the swirling in his stomach at feeling her warmth next to him when he felt his hand being pulled into her lap, her fingers interlocking his. He paused whatever the hell he was talking about (something to do with Christmas and his Visa being accepted, but who could blame him for forgetting everything when Rae Earl was tracing slow circles into his palm?!) to look at her, but much to his surprise and disappointment she hadn’t broke her attention from Arch.

‘’…Oi, did you hear me over all that gushing Finny boy?’’ Chop exclaimed, bopping Finn on the head amused ‘’I said, are you going to get another round in or what?’’
Finn blushed, ruffling his fringe with the hand that wasn’t occupied by the raven-haired beauty next to him ‘’Or what! I got in the last round, you cheeky fucker’’
‘’Well it’s not my turn, I got the first one in!’’ Chop argued, and this seemed to attract the whole table’s attention.
‘’If you’re taking whose round it is you can count me out, I’ve bought two now’’ Archie informed them with a smug smile.
The table debated to and fro whose turn it is until Rae sighed, standing up. The whole table cheered as she admitted defeat (except Finn who just sulked at his hand being removed from hers) and took their drink requests. Once she had left the table, the gang swarmed in on Finn with cooing and pinching cheeks. They all found it simultaneously adorable and hilarious that Finn was so obvious in his affections for the new addition to their group, although were all secretly relieved someone had finally come along and shook grumpy old Finn up a bit. All of them except Chloe, of course.

‘’Oh ey up, look who it is, Finn’s angelic little brother’’ Chop suddenly grimaced. His words made Finns blood run cold and he only hoped his buddy was kidding. Turning around however he found unfortunately Chop wasn’t pulling his leg; James was indeed making his way over to the bar. To Finn’s dismay James had already clocked Rae, and was headed towards her whilst searching the room with his eyes narrowed. Finally, just steps away from Finn’s girl, James caught his eye and gave him the biggest shit eating grin and a little wave. It took all of Finn’s restraint not to go over and intervene as James caught Rae in what seemed a meaningful conversation, her eyes bright as she giggled at something the fuck-head had said. He knew his jealousy was off the roof right now, and he didn’t want Rae to realise in case it reminded her of the open mic night, and made her realise what an idiot Finn was. So instead, made himself turn his back to them, gritting his teeth and ignoring his friend’s sympathetic looks as he swigged the last dregs of his pint.

When Rae finally came over she was thankfully alone and carrying a tray of drinks.
‘’Here we are… if I didn’t get your drink right then, well sorry, more for me’’ she chuckled, earning laughter from the majority of the table. She placed Finn’s drink in front of him last, smiling questioningly when he simply thanked her and took the drink instead of the hand she tried to place back in his.
‘’Everything okay?’’ She questioned, and Finn instantly felt guilty at taking his jealousy out on her. However he simply smiled and nodded, continuing his conversation with Chloe.
It was so heartless of him, he knew it; not only was he being childish by not letting himself trace patterns on her thigh or tuck that pesky stray hair from her face again, but he wasn’t even properly listening to poor Chloe. She seemed to sense this, so gave up after a while and excused herself for the bathroom.
As soon as Chloe had left, Finn felt a tug on his sleeve.
‘’Finn… I didn’t mean anything by… he’s just a…’’ Rae stumbled, and the tips of Finn’s ears tinged pink as he realised he’d been caught out. He looked up at Rae, melting into her worried stare and biting his lip ‘’I mean… I just wanted to get along with your friends…’’
Wait, now Finn was confused…
Rae obviously didn’t sense that they were on different wavelengths, for her ramble continued ‘’I mean, he’s not even into girls, he was telling me about this cute guy at work that- wait, not that I’m saying he was cute, just that Archie did- the cute guy was his words not mine…’’
‘’Woah woah woah, Archie? You think I’m jealous over you talking to Arch?’’
This time Rae frowned, as Finn finally relaxed.
‘’Who else would you be jealous over?’’
That shut Finn up, for he mumbled ‘’Nothing’’ over his pint glass.

Sorry for the angst ;) It will happen!I anyone wishes to be added/taken off the tag list just let me know! :*

@thvgfcghfh @youcoveredmyheartinkisses @happyfrasers @kneekeyta @tinakegg @livelovelaugh-atyourself @you-are-world-class-i-mean-that @crystalgiddings1993 @bitchy-broken @caitlinmaddyx @emu4ever @rinncincin @anglophileyoungblood @neffanyx @i-dream-of-emus @flxwxry @wishingiwasfictional @losingpudge @blobwithagob @stinemarine @catscupcakesandhissyfits @milllott @annemarieted @fizzezlikecherrycola @alyssaloca @nutinanutshell

The moment we find out Beth Greene survived:

It’s in the last 2 minutes of 5x10, an episode that so far has been entirely devoted to Team Family. In the previous episode they have buried Beth in a makeshift coffin in a reasonably shallow grave due to the appearance of some walkers that meant they had to leave and couldn’t dig deeper. 

FOCUS on burial site, CLOSE UP on cross at head of grave- Carl’s hat rests on the top of the crucifix. He had given it to her in tribute.

CUT to viewpoint of someone lying down in a small space, vision is hazy and hearing is sparse. 

Now we can see the body. We see a small wrist with a cross bracelet around it, a grey woolly cardigan slightly covering it. PAN over the body and we see yellow polo shirt and blonde hair. We see Beth. Her eyes are closed.

CLOSE UP on her eyes. They blink open all of a sudden, sending the audience into stupefaction- shot mirrors the beginning of Slabtown.

CUT to the grave site again, a walker is ambling towards the grave. Now another joins it. And another. They can smell living flesh.

CUT back to inside the coffin. Beth can make out snarls and scratching above her. Her head is in searing pain and her sound and vision is hazy, so she panics. She bangs on the wood and calls for help but this only riles the walkers.

She bangs too hard- she punches out a piece of wood as the coffin is badly made. Soil immediately falls in through the crack and she splutters as it falls into her mouth. She grabs the broken wood, it is broken in such a way it is sharp at one end like a stake. Knocking out the rest of the pieces the soil falls in, but the grave is shallow so there isn’t much and she can see daylight. She scrambles from under the earth and before the first walker can grab her she drives the stake into it’s brain. Another reaches for her but we hear two gunshots that stop Beth in her tracks. The credits music is slowly fading in as she turns around to face a character who the audience cannot see. The pain and confusion is too much for her and she passes out.

CUE the credits and the uncontrollable screaming of every Beth fan across the Globe.

Surprise // Mercy + JARVIS

The nightmare shook her violently from the deep sleep her body had been stuck in. She gasped when she shot up, a hand clutching her chest as a thin sheen of sweat formed on her brow. Fumbling for the light on her bedside table Mercy tired to calm herself, grabbing for the bottle of water. She glanced at the clock, taking a few gulps… 3 am again. Sleeping was never a strong point.

“J, are you there…” she called out to the AI, swinging her legs over the side of her bed, reaching for her woolly cardigan, tugging it around her sleep wear. Rising to her feet slowly she paused, “J!” she called again, already making her way to the door to her bedroom. She knew were to go at time like this, to the workshop for a much needed hot drink. Fuck nightmares.

Slowly she made her way through the silent house, knowing that Tony Stark was either passed out asleep or passed out drunk on the sofa. Making her way through the lounge, no sign of the mechanic, she made her way down the cool steps to the workshop. She needed a drink, and she needed to take her mind off what she’d just seen. Always the same nightmare, she dies… every times

Punching in the code to the door, the lights to the workshop kitchenette flickered to life and Mercy rubbed her eyes of the sleep, she yawned, “Jarvis I’m serious…come on, wake up…I need to talk…” 

im-ai-jarvis

Ten/Rose AU: Match Me - Secret Santa Gift {2/2}

Second part of my Secret Santa gift for menomonyfalls who did not get her present on time. Happy New Year, friend!

Summary: AU Ten/Rose where Great-Uncle Wilf has a matchmaking mind and John’s crush on girl-next-door Rose Tyler is his latest quest.

A/N: After a very traumatizing morning where I accidentally deleted half of this chapter in my Evernotes app (I very nearly went to find a snowbank to drown myself in), I was able to recover the note from my desktop client. IT’S A HOLDAY MIRACLE. Thanks for reading.

*

Part 2: New Years

Satan’s chili vodka was still wreaking havoc on his system in the morning and threatened to leave his body through an unorthodox channel if John so much as shifted positions in his bed before noon. He didn’t mind. Last night was a night of mistakes and he’d sooner forget them - getting up only meant facing reality. Alas, when the throbbing pain in his head and the scorching rawness of his throat became too much to bear, he finally forced himself to find relief.

Grunting, John crawled into the kitchen - no, really, he crawled - and felt around the counters for a glass to fill with water. It didn’t have to be clean. He gave up after a few minutes of blind groping and turned on the tap, using his hands as makeshift cups to drink from it.

“Up, are we?” boomed a cheery, unrelentingly loud voice. Christ on a cracker.

“Too loud,” he croaked, shrinking back to collapse against the fridge.

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