#Tag seventh doctor era

[butter-leopard]

On the Longest Night

Story by Nicole Hawberry

Illustrations by Rama Thorn

Summary: A little holiday story in which nothing of note happens but visiting friends, lighting candles, and waiting up for lost souls.

Tags: winter solstice, alternative holiday traditions, asexual main character, lesbian moms, cozy fantasy, doctoral research, Edwardian-era-flavored setting, alchemy never died

Content warnings: past loss of family, loneliness

6,300 words

Suggested tea pairing*: Tranquility by Yumchaa

*unsponsored!

~

On the evening of winter solstice, Ann left her rooms at sunset.

She hefted her basket of gifts and made her way across the quad, boots crunching on grit that had been thrown down to break up the ice. A confection of pink clouds towered atop the university roofs. It quickly dispersed into darkness, and all across the courtyard, the alchemic lamps blinked on. One hissed to life as Ann passed beneath. 

She stopped first at the home of Dr. Nir, who she’d known since she’d been an undergrad at Sweetwind College. When Dr. Nir had moved here to Janos University, she’d talked Ann into coming along to pursue her graduate studies. Soon after, she’d introduced Ann to her current mentor, Dr. Longway.

At Dr. Nir’s apartment, Ann accepted a glass of cherry cordial and a plate of tiny spiced meat tarts, and politely turned down an invitation to stay for a game of word cards.

She visited the home of Dr. Longway himself next and found that he was out. Ann smiled at the thought of the droll professor making rounds on winter solstice, doling out presents. She left his present on the front step with the pile of packages already growing there. Hopefully he’d appreciate the striped socks she’d knit him in bold yellow and black yarn, in memory of the bee that had followed him across campus one late summer day. He dryly joked that the encounter had left him hesitant to take afternoon walks, but Ann could tell he was at least half serious.

Next, she went to the home of the librarian, Davith. There, to the amazement of his two children, she pulled a handsome box of miniature wooden games out of her gift basket. From the corner of her eye, Ann caught Davith’s sharp look, but she didn’t meet his gaze. She only watched the kids go through the box, crying out with every discovery they made.

It had been a stretch to buy the box of games on her limited budget, but Davith was a good friend to her, and he had saved her research several times by tracking down rare books. She was glad to be able to do this for his family. She only regretted she couldn’t afford to get them proper artisan-crafted toys—ones that danced and lit up and made noise all on their own. These ones had been made by an apprentice artisan as practice pieces, so they were well-made but not infused with any life of their own.

The children begged Ann to sing at least one song with them, but Davith glanced in sympathy at the gifts piled in Ann’s basket before explaining to them that she might have other people to visit. Ann gave him a grateful smile. In truth, she dearly wanted to stay, but she did have a lot of stops to make and not much time.

She made three more drop-offs to colleagues and professors who were out, probably delivering presents, like her. It was just as well, because she didn’t have the heart to turn down many more offers of food and company as she hastened to empty her basket. Each stop brought her closer to the edge of the university, through austere gardens filled with bare branches, dark green juniper bushes, and red solstice ribbons.

By her seventh stop, she was making good time and allowed herself to get sucked into an audio play on a friend’s phonograph. The drama and music reminded her of the rare times she’d visited the theater with her family, and she forgot herself completely until she glanced at the clock and, with a stumbling apology, hurried out.

Her last stop was the farthest. It brought her beyond the university’s walls and across the bridge to the Camp of the Arts. She gave thanks that the morning’s ice had long ago melted as she rushed over the cobblestones.

The Camp of the Arts was everything the university wasn’t. The streets branched messily and were cramped with townhomes, cafes, and studios of different architectural styles and ages. Older structures made of creaking wood and brightly-colored cloth leaned shoulders with newer brick buildings. The newer buildings were no less flamboyant, with their spiraling murals and the mosaics that glittered across multiple shopfronts.

Ann passed the open-air market where she’d bought the games for Davith’s children. Most of the market was closed for the evening, but several food vendors served spiced bubbly cider and fried dough, and groups of merrymakers wove up and down the narrow lanes of shuttered market stalls, taking in the bright decorations: strings of glowing baubles, paper cutouts of twirling snowflakes, musical pipes playing songs. The smell of cinnamon and sweet fry oil tempted Ann, but she kept moving.

The whimsical decorations continued into the residential neighborhood. Strings of paper lamps crisscrossed overhead, drenching everything below in colored light. A stilt-walker leaned to blow bubbles at a group of children, who shrieked and scattered.

Ann stopped at the front step of a familiar townhouse. The house had been decked out in bunches of multicolored ribbons and little bells that rang themselves. Out of their delicate tinkling, Ann could just make out a solstice melody.

A clocktower tolled the hour. Planning, with regret, to make this visit short, she took the last parcel from her basket and rapped on the door. The apology she’d readied froze when Ulma’s face appeared in the doorway and brightened at the sight of Ann. Then Ann was being ushered into the warmth and light and savory smells of her friend’s home.

Ann was still attempting to navigate greetings and apologies when a streak of orange and white shot toward her and tangled around her ankles, putting her further off balance.

“Oh!” Ann said to the calico kitten. “You’ve gotten so big!”

She bent to pet it, and the basket on her arm dipped with sudden weight as a small black shape leapt into it, claws scrabbling.

Ann laughed under the double assault. Ulma laughed, too, and took the wrapped gift from Ann’s hand so Ann could catch her balance.

“That package is for you, anyway,” Ann said.

She set the basket down. Inside, the black kitten—which was nearly full-grown, like its sibling—had found the scrap of cushioning fabric at the bottom and was already curled on its side, attacking the cloth with front and back feet.

Sensing something more interesting going on than greetings from a human, the little calico twisted under Ann’s hand to inspect the basket. In moments, it had tumbled inside to bat paws with the other kitten.

“The pests!” Ulma said. “I’m sorry.”

Ann teased the kittens with the scrap. “They’re not doing any harm.”

“Do you have any more stops after this one? Would you like to stay for dinner? We’re having roast.”

Ann already knew this by the delicious smells. She would have loved to stay; the house was so beautiful, filled with candles and bunches of prickly-grape leaves and more of the tiny bells. And the company would have been even better; Ann loved Ulma and her husband, Teddy.

Apologetically, she shook her head. “This is my last one, but I’ve got to get home.”

“Oh, good—so you have plans. That’s great, as long as you aren’t alone. We knew you weren’t traveling to see your folks this year.”

“Thank you,” Ann said. “The invitation means a lot.”

She took something soft and long from her pocket and handed it to Ulma, who accepted it with slight puzzlement, then recognition.

“My socks! I was wondering where these had gone. And—a pair of Teddy’s, too?”

At Ulma’s questioning look, Ann winked and lightly touched the side of her nose.

Ulma glanced at the squishy package she’d taken from Ann a couple minutes before.

“I needed a size reference,” Ann said, with a sheepish shrug.

Ulma laughed. “I’m sure I have no idea what’s inside this gift you handed me! Hold on a minute, I’ll be right back.” She disappeared through the open door, leaving Ann alone in the entryway.

Ann always loved visiting Ulma and Teddy’s house, even when it wasn’t a holiday. The couple were artisans, and they kept a rotating display of their works on the shelves and sideboards here. She mourned that she hadn’t visited them in months; she’d been so busy with her doctoral work. Now for the winter solstice, the entry hall was filled with even more wonderful things. She toured the room, running her finger lightly over the wonders: a tiny music box in the shape of a snowflake, a miniature castle with a rotating disk of costumed dancers, a wolf playing the fiddle. Ulma and Teddy had made all of them together. Ulma built the metal mechanical parts of the music boxes, and Teddy carved, polished, and stained the wood that housed them. Which of them infused the pieces with life, though? Ann was watching the wolf smoothly draw its bow across the fiddle, as if she could puzzle this out, when Ulma reappeared. She had a parcel under one arm, a pale wooden box under the other, and a tray of spice cakes in her hands. The cakes were shiny with icing and dotted with fat currants.

“I should have done this in the kitchen,” Ulma lamented as she handed the tray to Ann, set the package on a side cabinet, and opened the wooden box, which was empty. She popped the spice cakes into it while Ann watched, bemused.

As Ulma added the last cake and latched the box shut, she said, “At least take these with you to share.”

Ann didn’t know what to say except, “Thank you.” She let Ulma take the empty tray from her and press the warm box into her hands.

“And this is for you,” Ulma said, reclaiming the wrapped package from the cabinet and proffering it to Ann. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to go gifting this year. We’ve been busy with the roast, and our son’s airship had to stop in Rosewood for bad weather. The kids are the ones who usually go out.”

“I hope they make it safely.”

“Oh, they’ll be fine. The kids were pushing snow down each other’s collars, last I heard.” Ulma’s mouth twisted in a smirk. There was probably a story there. Ulma was sweet but took vengeful delight in her son’s parenting misadventures.

Ann felt bad for him, but couldn’t help her own, answering smile. She bent to tuck the gifts into the basket and then paused when she saw the two cats curled inside, now dozing together.

“Look,” she whispered.

Ulma’s curious look dissolved as she caught sight of them. She gave a “tsk!” and scooped them out, one floppy kitten in each hand.

“Here, they can have the scrap,” Ann said. “Happy solstice, you two. You’re so easy to choose a gift for.”

In the few minutes she’d spent in the warmth of Ulma’s home, Ann had forgotten how cold it was. She paused on the doorstep to wrap her scarf tighter around her neck. As she made her way back through the Camp of the Arts, she kept close to the buildings, out of the wind, catching good smells and sounds of laughter and currents of warm air from cracked windows.

As she reached the university’s moat, the chill took on a wet bite. The noise and bright glow of lamps fell away, becoming only muffled sounds and flashes of light reflecting off the black surface of the water. Ann passed several people on the bridge, many of them carrying lanterns. Their voices echoed around the short tunnel of the university’s gate as Ann passed through it, under the portcullis that had not been lowered in generations.

After the bright colors of the Camp, Janos University seemed so dark, lit only by the steady white illumination of the alchemic lamps.

A wreath had been placed on her door. Ann glanced around the hall, wondering if it had been placed there by one of her neighbors. Bags of candied fruit and nuts had been pinned among its pine needles and prickly-grape leaves.

Beneath the wreath, mounded against the door, a small pile of packages waited for her. The sight surprised her, though she didn’t why it should. Heart warm, she knelt to put them into her basket. From the wreath, she chose a bag of candied fruit for herself and left the rest for any spirits that wandered by that night.

The living room looked just the way it had when she’d left earlier: spool of ribbon, scrap fabric, and scissors out for wrapping presents, an empty tea mug and a plate of toasted nut bread on a chair nearby—and the usual mess everywhere else.

With horror, she realized it was a disaster.

Since early summer, she’d been so focused on her research, she hadn’t taken notice of her surroundings. The apartment looked like the den of some book- and yarn-hoarding creature, a little nesting bird or rodent.

She checked the clock on the mantel. She didn’t have the time to spare, but she also didn’t have a choice.

Her desk offered the only clear surface large enough for the basket of gifts. She set it there, atop her research notes, then sloughed off her warm winter clothes and got a fire going. When the wood was crackling and sending up orange flames, she attacked the living room. There wasn’t much she could do in a small amount of time, but she could at least put things in neater piles.

First, she swept the scrap fabric, ribbon, and scissors into a craft basket and returned the toast and tea mug to the kitchen. Then she ran around the apartment, gathering armfuls of books. At first, she tried to organize them in some relevant way, but when she found herself deciding whether to separate Dr. Rafa’el’s books from the three stacks of research, she quickly gave up and, in a frantic rush, piled them all together.

For a moment, she hesitated over all the knitting, thinking she should arrange it by project, but then she remembered herself and dumped it all on the corner of the couch—the one that was too stiff to sit on, anyway.

One of the projects was an unfortunate first attempt to knit a gryphon doll for her niece. The wings were blocky and looked like two blankets flapping on its back, and she’d forgotten to give it forelegs. She intended to try putting it to rights at some point without completely unraveling it, but until then, it would sit with her balls of yarn, looking confused and left out. Some emotion—pity, or love—urged her to pull it out of the pile and set it on top to watch her finish cleaning the apartment.

Ann pulled long strips of telegraph tape from the desk and threw them into a crate of prints. She suspected one of the messages was a short winter solstice story from her niece; it had arrived earlier in a flurry of metallic clacking.

From the dining table, she swept a pile of equipment for her upcoming research trip into a box and pushed the box—clinking with vials of antinausea draughts—under the bed in her room. Straightening, she spotted a piece of paper on the ground and recognized it as a letter from Dr. Rafa’el. He’d sent this one to her at the holiday years ago; it was one of her favorites. Earlier in the week, in a fit of nostalgia, she’d pulled it out to read. He was usually polite and serious to a fault, but this one contained a rare, silly drawing by him, and it always made her smile.

She tucked it in the closet with the rest of the letters, and spared a moment to wonder how Dr. Rafa’el was doing and how he was celebrating the holiday. She couldn’t imagine him making visits on solstice evening with a basket of presents on his arm, but also, she couldn’t imagine him not. Was he visiting family? Funny, from the years they’d corresponded, Ann could recount his personal philosophies, his favorite operas, and the way he took tea, but she didn’t know if he was married or if he had kids. Siblings. Nieces or nephews that telegraphed him with stories and cost him a fortune in telegraph tape...

Realizing she was smiling again, and that she’d been standing in her dark room, staring at her closet for several minutes, she shook her head at herself.

When at last she was done, the apartment still looked like her own—the apartment of a doctoral student lost in her dissertation work—but it seemed (at least she hoped) a bit less desperate. If nothing else, some of the floor was visible. In a word, it was acceptable, and she relaxed a fraction.

She still had a lot to do.

The fire had burned itself into smoldering coals nearly perfect for cooking. With her limited time, she should have opted to make dinner at the stove, but stubbornly, Ann rearranged the coals and added more wood. They always made winter solstice dinner at the hearth. It was tradition.

Ann retrieved the iron pot from where it lived for most of the year in a corner of the kitchen and set it over the coals on its three squat legs. Soon, the apartment was filled with the sound of sizzling and the smells of rosemary and parsnip. Beef stew wouldn’t make for a particularly fancy meal, but it would be warming and—she hoped—appreciated.

In her apartment, Ann had a total of three chairs. While the stew bubbled, she gathered these around the small dining table, spread out a lace tablecloth, and arranged three place settings. She put a knit cushion on each of the chairs.

Seeing the table this way did something funny to her. It had never been only her and them before.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, with a snap of her fingers. She retrieved the box of spice cakes and, after a minute of rummaging, found a serving platter to set them on. They looked too good like that, dressed with icing and currants. It made Ann smile. A lot of love had gone into them.

All she had left, now, were the finishing touches.

From beneath the couch, she pulled a wicker box filled with her most precious holiday decorations. First, she took out the bunch of silver bells. It was one of the few artisan-crafted items Ann owned, and it had been given to her by Mum and Auntie when she left home. Though the bells didn’t ring on their own or play music, the silver never tarnished and their nest of ribbons looked as crisp as if just-tied. Then, she lifted the little soul lantern from its protective fold of velvet cloth.

She stepped outside to hang the on the hook above her door and set the lantern on her doorstep. Across the courtyard, children whooped and a man called out a greeting. Ann crossed her arms over her chest, breath frosting, and watched their group go by. The atmosphere had taken on a rare, hazy quality that softened the lamp and lantern lights, making them into ghosts.

After the crackling cold, the air inside her apartment was thick with heat and rich smells. The door sealed out the children’s laughter, and in the insulated quiet, the clock above the mantel ticked the seconds.

Suddenly, the apartment was very small and very large and very empty and very close. She didn’t look at the clock. Now that it was almost time, she couldn’t.

To keep her hands moving, she placed a pan of wine over the fire and added cider and spices. She rearranged the contents of the dining table. Added the gifts from her basket to the mantel with the other cards and presents. Relocated her teapots so they could all fit. Sat on the vacant end of the stiff couch and watched the fragrant steam rise from the mulled wine. After a time, she realized she’d pulled out her talisman—the one Dr. Rafa’el had sent her years before—and was stroking its silky feathers, something she did when she was nervous.

The clock chimed ten.

“All right,” she said to the knit gryphon sitting on the hill of wool next to her. She tucked the talisman back under the collar of her sweater and went to the door.

“Welcome,” she whispered, and locked it.

From the wicker box, she took the last objects: two silver candle holders. She placed a slender taper in each and lit them with a flame from the hearth, as she’d been taught.

The pale-yellow beeswax burned sweetly. Once upon a time, the women of fishing villages had gathered together to dip the tapers that they’d later burn in their houses at night—lights to guide home their husbands and sons. Brothers. Fathers.

Ann placed the candles on the windowsill.

Winter solstice. Everywhere across campus and in all pockets of civilization, people set candles and lanterns in thresholds and in windows, on gate posts and at the edges of camp—beacons promising warmth and safe haven to all stray souls. Family and strangers gathered at the fireside, sharing bounty and story, reinforcing old connections, creating new. On the longest night, everyone had a home and hearth.

Ann ladled three bowls of stew. She set these on the small dining table with warm bread, a pot of honey, and butter. She poured mulled wine into each of the mugs.

“I hope you enjoy,” she whispered to the table.

She had intended to take a seat at it, but in the end, she took her meal to the hearth. Maybe this was rude, but somehow, it felt right. She ate while listening to the murmur and snap of the coals, and allowed herself to feel at peace. She hadn’t known what she would feel, sharing the holiday this way, but it wasn’t bad. It was…good. It was quiet, and she felt connected. Inexplicably, paradoxically so.

Outside, the approaching clang of a bell marked the passage of a solstice search party, a procession of candle bearers who traveled from door to door, guiding the way for lost spirits. They neared Ann's door, and the bell went silent. Into that pause, the bearers would be lighting the lantern on her doorstep. The peal of the bell resumed a few seconds later, and the procession moved on, drawing the spirits along with flame and sound—helping them find their way home, and, if not, helping them find friendly shelter.

She listened to the sounds disappear. In the gentle quiet that followed, she tried to sense any difference in the apartment. A shift of the air, a watchful presence that hadn’t been there before, maybe an inexplicable flicker of the candleflames at the window. How did these things work? She’d never been in an otherwise empty room on the night of solstice.

The clock continued to tick. Her bowl, now empty, cooled in her hands.

If any spirits had found their way inside when the procession passed by, Ann could not detect them any better than she could when surrounded by five other women and a small flock of birds all making music and conversation together.

There was also the alternative: that there weren’t any spirits because the souls that would have visited her hadn’t been lost.

In the fireplace, a log popped.

She rose to put her bowl in the kitchen, then covered both bowls of stew on the table, reckoning it wouldn’t hurt to keep the contents warm and clean. Just in case.

She tried not to be disappointed. It wasn’t like she’d expected to speak with them. It wasn’t like she had expected…anything, really.

Her hands rested on the back of a dining chair. She realized she was gazing at Ulma’s spice cakes. She picked one up, inhaled the sweet butteriness, and took a bite. The dense dough was still very slightly warm. The fragrance of spices and orange peel evoked memories of late nights in the sitting room with her foster sisters, playing number tiles and weaving leftover ribbons into bracelets and solstice crowns.

What were their mothers doing tonight? Was the house very quiet? Were they listening to music and enjoying an evening without four demons flinging bells at each other behind their backs? Ann hoped they were. She hoped it wasn’t as strange for Mum and Auntie as it was for her, gathering all the cards and packages from the mantel and settling on the floor with them.

“Miss you all,” she said to them. “Thank you for these.”

 She opened the cards first, starting with one from a friend she kept in touch with from primary school. She unfolded the handwritten note she’d come to expect every winter, with its accompanying heliograph, and saw that her friend’s family had an extra tiny, bald person this year. The firelight glowed through the creamy paper, silhouetting the words as she read them.

The cards from her university friends and mentors were also familiar and expected: most offered short greetings and wishes for a happy holiday, as they did every year.

Opening the cards from her sisters, however, was an odd experience. Usually, she received family updates and holiday tidings in person. This year, however, they’d agreed not to get together. With Ann preparing a research proposal for her expedition in spring, Linden caring for her one-month-old, Alyssum opening a business, and Heather off in the northern ice pole, they were all too busy—or too far—to travel home.

Ann had braced herself for missing them, but still wasn’t prepared for the ache at reading their words. The feeling eased as she continued, though, and it seemed rather like they were there with her. She could hear their distinct voices as they recounted new baby troubles, happy accidents in floral arrangement, and spousal drama.

Only after she had read the letters did she remember she might not be alone.

“Sorry,” she said, glancing at the table. “Just in case you’re listening: This one is from Linden. Her first child was born last month. All she wants for solstice is sleep. I wish I had some to spare, but I’ve been woefully low on my own supply lately.” She picked up the other letter. “This one is from Alyssum. She decided to open a flower shop—in autumn. Good luck to her. Sorry; that was mean. She’s actually doing quite well for herself. She received so many orders for solstice swags, she closed the shop early in the month. I’m proud of her.” She set the page down. “There’s no card from Heather. She sent it last month because mail is unpredictable for her. She’s at the northern ice pole. That’s her gift on the mantel, the carved antler. She got it from a tribe she stayed with for a few weeks.”

Ann treasured the piece. She had stopped to run her fingers over it many times since she’d unwrapped it from its cushioning strip of fur. It depicted a tiny sled being pulled by dogs, just like Heather’s. Every time Ann looked at it, she imagined the tread of paws on snow, the whispering slide of runners, the vast silence and frosting breaths—and smiled.

She loved all of her foster sisters, but Heather’s sense of adventure had always spoken to something inside Ann. Even if Ann herself was too timid and book-bound—and too afflicted by height sickness—to strike out on her own adventures, it made her heart full to think of Heather camping under the ribbon of northern lights.

Ann smiled and added, “I think you’d like them all, my foster sisters.”

After slipping each of the cards into their envelopes, she tucked them into the chest of drawers for safe keeping.

She unwrapped each of the presents next, revealing—from her university friends—caramels, mittens, knitting needles, and a hat.

Her sisters had sent colorful sweets, an anklet, the clay impression of a baby foot, a glass vial filled with delicate dried flowers, and two notebooks bound in soft leather (one from each of them).

Dr. Longway’s present made her stomach drop, even as she smiled. “You’re terrible.” It was a rubber stamp with her name and her title, as it would be when she completed her dissertation and graduated her doctoral program. She’d lamented so often that she would never finish. “I guess I have to get through it, now. This stamp is too handsome to waste. And ‘Dr. Fairweather’ does have a nice ring to it.”

The gift from Ulma and Teddy made her gasp. They had made her a gleaming music box the size of her palm. It bore a motif of feathers and ivy leaves, and when she thumbed the switch, it filled the room with the soft strains of her favorite solstice carol. She couldn’t decide if she felt more grateful or guilty. Had she hinted too hard by fawning over the boxes when she visited? Then she remembered the genuine smile on Ulma’s face and, with a vow to make them something extra nice for their birthdays, set aside the guilt.

She placed the music box on the mantel, delighting when it moved onto a new song and continued to play.

Only the brown paper parcel from her foster mothers remained.

Bells tolled—big bells this time, from across the courtyard, marking midnight. Ann added another log to the fire and a pinch of incense that made the flames flash green. She sat back down with the package. The brown paper was the rough kind used to wrap meat. Ann loved this quirk of Auntie’s: the woman who so loved fine, frilly things delighted in wrapping presents with the most unassuming paper and jute twine. It made the treasures inside all the more dear.

Ann picked at the knot of twine until the loopy bow sprang open, then unfolded the paper a corner at a time to reveal a tissue-wrapped bundle. It was floppy and thick in her hands. She pulled aside the tissue, then frowned quizzically at the knit inside. Bright jewel tones clashed in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but was…unexpected. She unfolded it to reveal a child’s blanket. This was odd. Mum and Auntie did often give blankets as gifts, but they favored quilts and creamy-colored crochet throws with tasselly ends.

An envelope fell to the floor. Ann draped the blanket on her lap and opened it to find a heliograph of Apple the cat curled in a basket of laundry, a recipe card for Mum and Auntie’s solstice-morning scones, and a letter in Mum’s handwriting, pasted with whimsical paper cutouts of birds and snowflakes. Ann brushed her thumb over the texture of them.

Dear Ann,

How is your project going?

Auntie brought home three loaves of solstice bread today. One is your favorite, with crushed pistachios. Auntie doesn’t like that one, and the one with candied cherries is more than enough for me. What are we going to do with all this bread !! I might give it to the neighbors when Auntie is out. I doubt she’ll notice it’s gone. There is so much food in the kitchen. I think we forget that you girls won’t be home for the holiday. Maybe we’ll have to invite some of the old women from the quilting class. Some of them haven’t got family anymore. The class is a way for them to get out and see people. You know Auntie and I stopped asking much for the class years ago, just enough to cover the supplies. Ettia’s bank stopped paying out her fee months ago but we won’t say anything to her about it. The class is the highlight of her week.

The letter went on for several more long, rambling paragraphs as Mum covered news of the shop, the decorations they’d put up, Apple’s bout of sickness (“She’s fine now, she threw up a big hairball one morning. Auntie stepped in it. Now she won’t stop screaming for food”), and their slow renovation of the house.

Auntie and I were cleaning out some old trunks in the back room and found this. It’s your baby blanket. I thought you might like to have it.

Mum’s neat handwriting continued on for the rest of the page, but Ann stopped there.

Her baby blanket. That hit her in an odd way and she blinked, and then it hit her harder when she realized that her mom, her real mom, must have knit this—or even her grandmother.

She spread the blanket beneath her hands, taking in the pattern of the colors, absorbing the deep, almost primordial familiarity. Her fingers bunched the knit and she pressed it to her mouth, blinking sudden tears. She didn’t even know what she wept for.

She glanced toward the table. She took a deep inhale, but the blanket just smelled like home, the home she grew up in with Mum and Auntie. With Mum and Auntie—and her foster sisters and their birds and a host of dolls and swathes of fabric draped over every surface. The home where they hid in closets and flicked thimbles from under the bed and placed the cutlery on the table just so. The home where she’d hidden behind the lemon balm in the summer and fashioned fairy gardens out of patches of moss, where she sneaked out of her room at night to steal tablespoons of jam from the ice chest, where she curled between Mum and Auntie when she couldn’t fall sleep in her own bed. Home. Lavender sachets and ginger syrup, glass pitchers of minty water and lacy drapes fluttering in the breeze.

She wasn’t even sure if it comforted her that it smelled like her childhood, or if she was disappointed that it didn’t smell like something else—like someplace else.

The fire burned down. The music box from Ulma and Teddy continued to play. Ann lowered the blanket and got up to turn it off. She covered the stew pot, poured the remaining mulled wine into a jar, and organized all the gifts.

The clock’s chime at the half hour found her at her desk, staring at her dissertation notes. She didn’t remember sitting down. Muscle memory must have brought her there, where she’d spent so much of the past year.

She set the notebook aside and pulled the telegraph machine toward herself. She thought for a moment, then tapped out a message to Mum and Auntie, wishing them a happy holiday and thanking them for the blanket. She almost asked them about it. They rarely talked about her parents; Ann still wasn’t sure how, or if, they’d known them. But after staring at the telegraph for several minutes, she flipped off the lamp and stood.

At the table, where the bowls of stew sat with the wine and the remaining cakes, she whispered a happy solstice and a thank you.

Briefly, she considered stepping outside to clear her head and breathe fresh air, but the soul lanterns had been lit. While it wasn’t taboo to leave the house after the search party had passed, it didn’t feel right. So instead, Ann cleaned the dishes and did, after all, organize her stacks of books. She even made an attempt to read her niece’s holiday story, but her gaze kept skating over the length of telegraph tape without reading the words.

Ann poured herself a last mug of wine and settled on the couch. Next to her, the little knit gryphon listed on its perch. She picked it up and ran her fingers over the stitches, frowning. The blocky wings flopped.

She should unravel it. Or maybe not.

It was time for bed.  

The blanket still lay in a neat heap on the floor. She hesitated before she picked it up, bunching it in her hands as she stared at it and then spreading it open. It was even smaller than she’d originally thought, vibrant with color and soft.

She looked at it for a long time before finally taking it with her to the bedroom. On the windowsill, the candles were nearly burned down. She left them, and would leave the window latch unlocked tonight. Just in case.

fin.

(Li'l author note: Happy holidays, and thank you for reading! Ann's story will continue in 2023. ☕️📚🪶 -Lep 💜)

#cozy fantasy #queer fantasy #steampunk #holiday story #lgbtq characters #gryphon #asexual #ace/aro #illustration #lgbtqia #lgbtqia+ #queer author #queer artist #trans artist #short story

[whumpingwho]

hi! welcome to my blog :)

this is primarily dedicated to whump from the classic era of doctor who, as well as extended universe (dweu) media such as books, audio dramas, comics, etc.

feel free to send me an ask/submission, or put in a reblog or comment if you’d like to see any particular content; i’ll do my best to post it for you! (please be specific if it’s a little obscure or hard to find) 

i’ll respond to asks publicly so if you want to stay anonymous just do anon or leave me a note saying if you’d prefer me to respond privately :)

as always when it comes to whump please be mindful that there may be some mature content. when it comes to doctor who there’s not likely to be much, but if there is i will try to tag accordingly. some audio and book content may be a bit darker. as a disclaimer i am personally over 18 so 18+ blogs feel free to interact, and if you are a minor just be aware of that.

i’ll also attempt to keep a consistent tagging system so specific content that you may be after is easy to find, as long as tumblr behaves itself (ie. whump for a specific doctor, gifs, fic recs, etc.). 

hope you enjoy! <3

easy-access links to all my tags below vvv

first doctor | second doctor | third doctor | fourth doctor | fifth doctor | sixth doctor | seventh doctor | eighth doctor 

classic who | books | audio dramas | comics

fic recs 

[allthoseotherworlds]

List of Tags:

This is a list of tags I am using/intend to use to organize things. This is a reference for myself so I can stay consistent when tagging things.

This is a living document that I intend to add to as I need new tags. Not all of these tags are currently in use.

Misc:

I am talking: For original posts and reblogs I have commented on

About my life: For me talking about things happening in my life in general

I am Just Some Guy (gender neutral): For me rambling/ranting about stuff I Have Opinions About, to remind you that I am Just Some Guy (gender neutral) on the internet and my opinions are not authoritative

Artron: For posts about my cat, Artron

Fictional stories: For people's original fiction

Non-fictional stories: For people's stories about their lives

Art: For art that is not fandom-related

Memes: For memes/humour/jokes that are not fandom-related

Informational: For posts from which a person could theoretically learn something

Doctor Who:

Doctor Who: For all Doctor Who content, regardless of medium/era

Classic Who: For Classic Doctor Who and the 1994 movie

New Who: For New Who, from 2005 onwards, including the new stuff on Disney but not including spinoff shows like Torchwood, which should be tagged separately with the show name

Audio Who: For the Big Finish audio adventures

The Doctor: For the Doctor as a character, regardless of incarnation

First Doctor/Second Doctor/Third Doctor/Fourth Doctor/Fifth Doctor/Sixth Doctor/Seventh Doctor/Eighth Doctor/Ninth Doctor/Tenth Doctor/Eleventh Doctor/Twelfth Doctor/Thirteenth Doctor/Fourteenth Doctor (I give up. For tagging purposes this is David Tennant again, but let it be known that I am unhappy about it)/Fifteenth Doctor/War Doctor/Fugitive Doctor: The relevant incarnation of the Doctor

The Tardis: For posts directly about the Tardis, not just her incidental inclusion in backgrounds

The Master: For the Master as a character, regardless of incarnation, including Missy

Ainley Master/Delgado Master/Roberts Master/Jacobi Master/Simm Master/Dhawan Master/Crispy Master/Missy: The relevant incarnation of the Master

aroace Doctor: For anything about the Doctor being aroace (aro or ace content individually is also here)

autdhd Doctor: For anything about the Doctor being autistic and/or ADHD

Companions and other characters are tagged with their full names: Rose Tyler, Martha Jones, Donna Noble, Amy Pond, Rory Williams, Clara Oswald, Bill Potts, Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair, Graham O'Brien, Romanadvoratrelundar, Jack Harkness, River Song, etc. Characters without a clear last name (Adric, Leela) are tagged with just their first name.

Posts about a specific episode are tagged with the episode name

Doctor Who Memes: For meme/humour/joke posts about Doctor Who

Doctor Who Art: For art about Doctor Who, including music and videos

Circular Galifreyan: For art done in Circular Gallifreyan

Circular Gallifreyan Reference: For images from the show depicting Circular Gallifreyan

Doctor Who Stories: For Doctor Who fanfic

Doctor Who Gifs: for gifs

Doctor Who Meta: For posts analyzing something about Doctor Who. May include posts not intended to be about Doctor Who but which have The Vibe

Other miscellaneous tags: Regeneration

Star Trek:

Star Trek: For anything Star Trek related, regardless of series

Series are tagged as: TOS/TAS/TNG/DS9/VOY/ENT/NuTrek (for the 2009 reboot movies)/LWD (Lower Decks)/DSC (Discovery)/PIC (Picard)/Star Trek Prodigy (Prodigy doesn't seem to have a good shortened tag)/SNW (Strange New Worlds)

The movies that are likely to come up are: The Search For Spock/The One With The Whales (ST IV The Voyage Home)/First Contact. If any other movies need tags I'll figure it out then and add them here

Autistic Julian: For anything about Julian Bashir being autistic

Julian's genetics: For anything about Julian Bashir's genetic enhancements

Characters are tagged with their names, not their ranks. First and last names are used except for characters with only one name (Q, Odo). This includes Skrain Dukat and Winn Adami. I can't find Kai Opaka's first name so she is tagged as Kai Opaka.

Posts about specific episodes are tagged with the episode name

Star Trek Memes: For meme/humour/joke posts about Star Trek

Star Trek Art: For art about Star Trek, including music and videos

Star Trek Stories: For Star Trek fanfic

Star Trek Gifs: For gifs

Star Trek Meta: For text posts analyzing something about Star Trek. May include posts not intended to be about Star Trek but which have The Vibe

#I am talking

[siriuslychessi]

I posted 944 times in 2022

That's 469 more posts than 2021!

18 posts created (2%)

926 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@galahadwilder

@actuallyyangxiaolong

@shehatedhimnahshedidnt

@lupinatic

@whereintheworldiskamalakhan

I tagged 50 of my posts in 2022

#blackinnon - 15 posts

#sirius black - 13 posts

#marlene mckinnon - 12 posts

#padfoot - 11 posts

#blackinnonfest2022 - 7 posts

#meme - 7 posts

#jily - 6 posts

#writing - 5 posts

#fanart - 4 posts

#potterverse - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 65 characters

#you can ship whatever and multiple ships with the same characters

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Soulmate - Sirius/James/Lily !!!

I'm glad to see someone enthusiastic lol

"Git" the word appeared on his side, bold big, it even had a shadow on it, and he wasn't sure why was that.

Git was a fairly common word that anyone could call him at any given moment for any given reason, and James Potter had received a very few gits in his life, earned and not, but they never seem too romantic towards him, nor he felt anything special towards the person uttering those words.

You would think the universe would choose a better word to recognise your soulmate by, other than git, wouldn't you?

6 notes - Posted March 10, 2022

#4

First Sentence Game

Thanks for the tag @blitheringmcgonagall

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have fewer than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns.

Favorite Line: You know that line that they feed you about couples, the one that says the first kiss is always the perfect kiss?

Frustration (Potterverse, Jily)

Snow always made things quiet and gorgeous at Hogwarts, at least outside of the castle.

The Dare (Potterverse, Jily)

It started with a party, didn’t all great things start like that?

07 AU Everybody Lives (Potterverse, Jilytober)

Summer, a flickering season that started okay; with the sun shining through the clouds and always ended with shirts soaked in sweat and the promise of a recurrent sunburn if you forgot to apply sunscreen.

06 Dancing (Potterverse, Jilytober)

There were so many pictures around the house that he usually didn’t remember when they were taken, or what exactly was the point of his having one photo on the small Christmas tree.

05 Lily finding about Remus/Animagi (Potterverse, Jilytober)

Blood, blood everywhere, that’s how the morning after the full moon had found James and his friends.

04 Forced proximity (Potterverse, Jilytober)

It wasn't his plan, this wasn't his plan.

03 Sneaking out after hours (Potterverse, Jilytober)

James found a way to sneak the Cloak from home for his seventh year.

02 Head Boy/Head Girl Fight (Potterverse, Jilytober)

James Potter was a teen boy, a man in wizard years, and to anyone that new James Potter they would say his biggest trait was that he was fun to be around.

01 First Kiss (Potterverse, Jilytober)

You know that line that they feed you about couples, the one that says the first kiss is always the perfect kiss?

Más de una década (Potterverse, Sirius and Remus friendship, Spanish)

Doce años, nueve meses, tres semanas y cuatro días era el tiempo exacto en el que a Sirius se le ocurrió por última vez pisar esa casa.

Risas (Potterverse,Mary MacDonald, Spanish)

Cuando la guerra llegó a la vida de Mary ella no supo muy bien cómo reaccionar.

Salvation & Damnation (PJO)

The streets of Los Angeles weren’t riddled with homeless people,

We Are all Flawed (Potterverse)

Horace Slughorn was a man of refined taste;

See the full post

6 notes - Posted February 19, 2022

#3

WIP Game

Tagged by @annabtg

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it!

Robin Hood – Jily – AU

Percy Jackson – Saint Seiya – AU

Goong - Marauders/Jily/Blackinnon AU

Coffee Princes - Blackinnon/Jily AU

The Prank – HTGAW style - Marauders

Doctor - Teacher - Jily

Soulmate - Sirius/James/Lily

Last Christmas AU - Jily

Tedromeda - Persephone’s myth

10 things I hate about you - Blackinnon

Kimi no na wa AU - Jily

Fruit Basket AU - Marauders

Bake Off AU - Jily

Cursed Smutt - Blackinnon

First Kiss - Jily (challenge)

1st War - Jily (challenge)

Tagging: @siriusuntiltheveryend @midnightelite @blitheringmcgonagall @matrixaffiliate and anyone else that wants to join.

8 notes - Posted March 10, 2022

#2

I’m not ready for my jily mutual to all turn into wolfstar, my Blackinnon ass is not doing its work 😂

12 notes - Posted November 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

James Potter parents' names

I don't know why this topic has been going around lately, we were talking in various groups about the change of names of Harry's grandparents, and the fandom just going with the flow. How much is fandom accepted and how much is actually canon? is the general questions so I thought that maybe some of you would be interested in a little fandom history.

If you are not, it's fine, you can skip this post. (I'll even put it under read more)

I don't want to make a big long post so here is the brief story, as best as I can put it. Ever since PoA being published in 1999 there had been stories about the Marauders, their relationship with Harry Potter, and a bunch of other things that we came to know as fanon.

However, from 1999 until 2006, we didn't have any idea on what Harry's grandparents names were, we still don't know what the Evans were called. Yet, at some point in 2006 JKR gave us a tiny piece of information, something small that we grabbed hold to it for deer (pun intended) life, and didn't want to let go of, and it was the Black Family Tree:

This was hand drawn by JKR for an auction, you can read more about it here, and we all just went wild with head canons.

As you can see, one of Walburga's (Sirius' mother) aunts, was name Dorea Black, and she married a Charlus Potter, they had one child, nameless, and we all just assumed that child was James Potter.

Why? you may ask.

We knew James parents were an elderly couple. Dorea being older than Orion and Walburga made sense. So the nameless child became James Charlus Potter (because we all know the middle name is always the dad's name).

After years of this, JKR decided to update her website, that was filled with puzzles and little details of the characters, and created Pottermore. Here she added another nugget of information about the Potters and it was that James parents' names, giving us Fleamont and Eupemia Potter, the names we have come to grow and love as well.

Yet from almost 9 years from 2006 to 2015, Dorea and Charlus held a special space in our hearts and this is why, if you decide to read vintage fanfiction, you will see these name being plastered around without any disregards, as it was fanon fuelled by a little bit of canon, as most ideas start in many of our communities.

52 notes - Posted February 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[daily-doctor-who-picture]

The Seventh Doctor and Ace.

#Seventh Doctor #Ace McShane #Tag classic #Tag seventh doctor era #Tag the doctor #Tag colour #Tag doctor with companion(s) #Tag season 26 #Ghost Light

[doccywhomst]

let's talk about looming.

y'know, i just really love the time lords' metaphors: the "anchoring of the thread" and the "web of time." "looming," "weaving."

for me, these metaphors create two distinct moods, and one of them is familial. when i think of cloth and looms, i think of home. i think of old women and young daughters weaving blankets together. the time lords have "houses" which contain "cousins" who came from the same loom. it's lovingly domestic.

but i also think about spiders - spinning a web, laying a trap, forming a strategy. i'm reminded of how some looms used to be kept in frames and others in "cradles," but, during the war, they were largely converted to a more streamlined and clinical "vat" design, as if the people they churned out were simply clones. fated soldiers. fodder, rather than family. this happened at least once before when the Final Chapter planned a coup attempt:

hmm... ouch. that hurts.

anyway, i think that the coexistence of these two moods is important to note when thinking about the complexities of time lord house dynamics, as well as how the war and political struggles changed things.

#it makes me Sad #doctor who #classic who #looms #wilderness era #edas #first doctor #second doctor #third doctor #fourth doctor #fifth doctor #sixth doctor #seventh doctor #eighth doctor #ninth doctor #tenth doctor #eleventh doctor #twelfth doctor #thirteenth doctor #*panting after writing all these tags* sorry everyone

[classicwho-meetngreet]

- Your URL: @lurking-latinist - What can people call you: Aurelia - What eras or spinoffs do you post about: Sixth and Seventh Doctor eras above all, including Big Finish stuff. I also love the Eighth Doctor (books and audios) and the Gallifrey audios. - What type of content do you make (e.g. fic, art, playlists, gifs, analysis, memes, textposts, tag rants): I write fic and meta, and I enjoy adding to discussions. - Are there particular characters or relationships you focus on: I’m your friendly local Doctor/Romana shipper, I wrote over half of the Seven/Romana tag, and I’m always obsessing about Six. - Is your blog safe for minors (yes, no, usually but no guarantees?): yes - What do you wish people would ask you more about: Trial of a Time Lord - Non-DW topics or interests that you also post a lot about: I sometimes post about sewing/knitting and books, and I sometimes reblog faith-related stuff, tagged #aurelia posts about jesus. - optional: Where else can you be found (AO3, Teaspoon, Dreamwidth, Twitter?): I’m lurking-latinist on Dreamwidth and lurking_latinist on AO3 and Teaspoon. If you’ve found a Doctor Who twitter that you think is probably me, it probably is.

#lurking-latinist #profile

[grainjew]

Random ask time! Care to name ten fics, any fandom, that you have or plan to reread? (Not necessarily your top ten because top ten is hard but ten that you genuinely enjoy.)

hi lynse i can’t believe you slightly switched the ask subject from what you were contemplating sending in dms. yes i do care to do this!!! fics follow

these are arranged in literally no order whatsoever except vaguely the order I remembered they existed and tragically they will mostly not be readable for you lynse on account of us sharing fandoms basically never. but in any case!!! let’s go!!!!

A Professor and a Student - LeDiz - Pokemon Anime (Alola) - multichap, complete - Professor Kukui’s pov outsider on Ash, through interstitial set during the first season of Alola anime. This fic is the fic that got me into pokeani in the first place, and I have reread it all the way through at least once and specific chapters genuinely so many times. it’s good! it’s got so many fun reveals! it’s even got a surprise plot! if someone is in pokeani fandom though there’s like a 95% chance they’ve already read it, so it’s kind of pointless to recommend

Broken Rules and Consequences - Redring 91 - Doctor Who (All Eras) - series, ongoing i think - This is one that i’m planning to reread rather than one i’ve already reread: I first read it back when i was originally into dw, in like 2013, and honestly lynse the timing was probably right for me to have recced it to you back then. in any case i have a friend who vouches for its continued quality, and it was straight-up the only dw fic i kept up with for several years after i first fell out of the dw fandom. it’s a really excellent exploration of all the times the doctor has met their past and future selves, and i highly recommend it. it’s also very long, so watch out!

An Unexpected Greeting - kimirice​ - Pokemon Anime (Alola) - threeshot, ongoing - it’s a fic in the “cynthia runs into ash in alola and dumbfounds his entire class” genre and it’s a good one. my favorite one. i reread it whenever i want to feel serotonin in my bones. serotonin does not go in bones. whatever, this fic is such a joy, it’s pretty short, please read it if you too want serotonin in your bones on account of revealssssss

Phone A Friend - TheBigCat - Doctor Who (Seventh Doctor Era / Gallifrey Audios Era) - oneshot - this is another “reread when i want serotonin in my bones” fic. it really is amazing just how much joy can be stored in a single 1K oneshot, it makes me so happy, that’s ace’s space dad........... wahhh the au - everything’s fine tag on this one really carries it right into my heart

dreamt you a kinder future - Sixteenthdays - Dream SMP - multichap, ongoing - my FRIENDS forcibly got me into the damn MINECRAFT RP. this is all you will see of it on this blog ever because i do have SOME dignity left but if you HAVE gotten bodily dragged into caring about the block men yourself please do enjoy this time travel fixit about pre-plot Dream getting dropped into post-Doomsday era canon and dealing with the fact that his future self is evil and ruined all his relationships. its very good i reread the ranboo chapter regularly

The Red Coast - Maldoror_Chant - One Piece - oneshot - genuinely hilarious pov outsider on post-skypiea straw hats via some idiot bounty hunters who think they‘re easy prey. it’s a lot of fun and it took me three entire rereads to catch the punchline, which i am still mad about. please read this fic i am shaking my fist at it

Though She Be But Little, She Is Fierce - Izzyaro - Pokemon Anime (Kalos Era) - multichap, abandoned(?) - a few years after the kalos crisis, Bonnie sets out on her own pokemon journey. told through the eyes of her very alarmed traveling companion, who so incredibly doesn’t know what to make of her. yes, it only has two chapters and hasnt updated in years. i do not care. the chapters stand alone as oneshots and this fic has done so much for me. its like 90% of the reason i write bonnie the way i do its such a joy

Keeping a Welcome - Gramarye (ao3 | ffn) - The Dark is Rising Sequence - oneshot - did you ever wonder, gee, zeph, why do you write so much loyalty content? and why is it all Like That? well, the answer is that i read this fic at a formative age and imprinted on it like a baby bird, and then subconsciously was shaped by it for the next decade. genuinely it is SO good. it’s so good guys. guys it’s so good im going to cry just thinking about it. o a t h s ,,,  wahhhhhhh gramarye is probably my favorite fic author ever i love their stuff SO much. so much. i am going to cry im telling you!!!!!! (also while I'm here I also recommend everything else theyve ever written, especially the Eirias Triad, which i have reread probably as many times as there are fingers in my house, and which is only not on an entry on this list on account of me wanting to keep it at one rec per author)

Nah - soomin - One Piece - oneshot - the straw hats have been stuck in a time loop of their entire lives for many, many years, and boy are they having a good time causing chaos. this is one of the only op time travels that i feel like accurately captures what would actually happen if luffy did a time travel, and i love it. they’re having so much! infinite retries for the best adventure ever!

Insomnia - tikitikirevenge - The Legend of Zelda (Majora’s Mask) - multichap, abandoned(?) - novelization of majora’s mask with a twist: instead of resetting the three day loop every time, link gets exactly 5 cycles, and the whole thing is a stable time loop. its true it hasnt updated since 2015, but it was my favorite zelda fic back in middle school and i still reread it every few years to confirm that it’s just as good as i remember: it somehow always is. and every time, i forget just how agonizing (complimentary) the link&tatl friendship slowburn is like dear lord does this author know how to write a slowly developing relationship hh i wish more people would read this fic it’s really just very good ok dont mind that its abandoned just before the snowpeak temple

#i feel very much like i am committing a grave betrayal with how few of my friends' fics are on here but my friends write things that cause m #e to have emotions. i have enough of those already!!! i dont need more emotions!!!!! #long post #recs #zephflix original #chatter tag #asks and ask memes #pokemon #pokeani #doctor who #sighs...... #dream smp #i GUESS that tag has to exist on my blog i GUESS #one piece #the dark is rising sequence #the legend of zelda #majora's mask #i tried to keep these summaries short but i feel like they got longer as i got further down the post. whoops #sorry this took so long to answer!

[myfandomrambles]

Message In A Bottle

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandoms: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who: Virgin New Adventures - Various Authors

Relationships: The Doctor & Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor & Graham O'Brien, Thirteenth Doctor & Ryan Sinclair, Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan, Melanie Bush & Seventh Doctor

Characters: Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor, The Doctor (Doctor Who), The Doctor's TARDIS, Graham O'Brien, Ryan Sinclair, Melanie Bush

Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, POV The Doctor (Doctor Who), Mentioned Past Companions (Doctor Who), Angst, Heavy Angst, Hypervodka (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor Era, Everyone Needs A Hug, Past Character Death

(CW: Alcohol Use)

Summary:

The Doctor gets a bottle with a message from a past friend. The trouble is with as much past as the doctor has, it can all be a bit much

The TARDIS was meandering in the Time Vortex. They had a rough few days of action so they were taking a day in The Vortex where almost nothing could really attack them. She might have told them nothing could hurt them they looked tired.

The Doctor did too, of course, The Doctor did need sleep. Honestly respected sleep, it was a good thing. But it was also a bad time for her, in general life had been going pretty good but when it got quiet, it all got very loud.

Nightmares, she actually had them for her whole life. Afraid of the dark, not to mention never being loved by her family and not being good enough for the Academy, the Time Vortex, the Cloisters and that was just on Gallifrey. Of course, life had not exactly stopped giving her nightmare fuel, Daleks, Cybermen, forced regeneration, human experiments, genocide, war, her friends dying, planets burning, universes collapsing. In other words, she never got a good night’s sleep.

So instead of sleeping, and inviting in the past, she was messing with the console. The TARDIS was making little noises at her, telling her thief her opinion on everything, as she always did.

The Doctor smiled at this, the TARDIS was her best friend. The one thing that had been with her for most of those nightmare-inducing events, always the place she wanted to run to and run with. Her friends were the best of her, every single one of them, but the TARDIS was her home.

The TARDIS stopped its friendly wheezing and a knock sounded on the door. The Doctor felt her eyebrows do the scrunch thing and she pulled up the view screen, it was a bottle, like just a glass bottle how did that work? Now she wanted to know,

“What we think? let it in?” Thirteen said rubbing her hands together.

She didn’t wait for her box to respond, this was weird, she loved weird.

Swirling space filled her view as she plucked the gas bottle in. Inside was an old disk, from a few consoles back, but TARDIS compatible. Not to mention turning it over she saw a wisp of paper reading “Doctor”. So, for her, exciting. Two bits of mail very close together must be getting popular.

The Doctor went to the console and was keenly aware she no longer had the hardware on her counsel, so this was an old message. Now she’d have to go digging.

Wandering the halls she looked for either an old desktop backup or a spare parts room, had plenty of those. Doing so she remembered something, or almost remembered something like it was on the tip of her tongue. The message was old so was being addressed to one of her older faces. But it was still making her head spin and old memories and thoughts come up.

‘Oh you really are thick’ her thoughts supplied, making her mutter “stupid Doctor” at herself and the voice of judgment that always sounded a step out from her.

‘Really can’t remember anything anymore, typical’ her mind supplied.

“Too much in my head.” The Doctor muttered again

“Doctor!” Ryan shouted

The Doctor jumped out of her skin and turned around, all three of her current companions were apparently following her, wondered for how long now.

“Oh hi,” The Doctor said smiling at her companions as best she could.

“What are we looking for?” Graham questioned.

“I have a bottle,” The Doctor said waving it around.

“I can see that,” Ryan said with a shrug.

“So I have to find one of my old console rooms, one with the round things in white.” The Doctor explained and kept walking.

“Doctor, did you happen to drink the contents of the bottle?” Yaz questioned stepping in front of her.

“I’m not drunk” The Doctor defended

“Right, well wandering in circles talking to yourself, being drunk is kind of the best explanation,” Graham replied leaning against the wall.

“I’m trying to find things, help me?.” The Doctor said, more to the TARDIS than anyone else. And of course, now that she had made a fool of herself the door opened.

“Found it,” The Doctor said proudly and spun showing off the console room, from before the eighth body at least.

“Wait this is like the front room yeah?” Yaz said walking to the console.

“Yes, and can be functional again if needed but right now we just need to be able to read an older file format.”

“So the main room is an updated version of this?” Ryan asked.

“Basically, though to be fair most of it is cosmetic, from her getting a feel for us, or just wanting to show off.” The Doctor explained pulling some wires around to get it to play to the view screen.

As she got it out of the bottle, she noted it was not a normal bottle. It could open up big enough to get it out. Cool, never seen this before.

“Message in a bottle” She explained handing the bottle to Yaz who placed it on the ground. The Doctor took the drive, and Graham interrupted.

“That’s like an old school game cartridge.” He laughed.

“Don’t diss it, this is Gallifreyan tech.” The Doctor said putting it and hitting play.

“What tech?”

But Graham got no answer, the screen was filled with an older red-headed woman in a bright pattern dress.

“Hello Doctor,” she said wiping tears from her eyes.

The Doctor stumbled back and the words, “Mel Bush”, tumbled from her lips.

“It’s been such a long time now, or not, guess member a really long time.” Mel laughed, “I really do miss you, even after the last time going a bit pear-shaped. I was angry, you played mind games with me. But I know the man I knew, and I know you’re still him. I hope you have someone with you, keeping you safe, keeping you together. And remember sweets aren’t a meal, not sure what the version of you now is like, I heard you face change again, a few times now I think.

The grapevine seemed to pick up after 2010, not sure why. Heard from a few people who knew an even older you. But that doesn’t matter. I promised you’d I do this, so I am. Because I hope you’re out there turning worlds better, saving lives, changing them. Hope you don’t let it keep making you harder, loosen up and have fun.

Even if the universe can be a cruel and mean place, don’t be a Valeyard or master right? You’re The Doctor." The girl bopped the lens with her finger,

"And be nice if someone’s there with you, for me okay? Make them want to stay.

Oh, I do love you Doctor, goodbye.”

The screen clicked off

Doctor you okay?” Yaz asked placing her hand on The Doctor arm, brown eyes warm with concern.

“Yeah, I think so, you know.” She shrugged.

“Who was that?” Yaz asked,”

“Melanie Bush, she travelled with me way back, thousands of years back.”

“Wow, always forget you’re so old,” Ryan commented, earning him a glare from Graham and Yaz.

“I am so old Ryan, so so old.” The Doctor agreed.

“She seemed very nice.” Yaz gave her a reassuring smile.

“She was, very nice. To me and most people.” The Doctor held in her hands, “I always mess up how do I always mess it up?” she said more to herself than the others.

“What happened Doc? ” Ryan asked, “You know if you want to share.”

“The last time we really saw each other, she told me she never wanted to travel in the TARDIS, because I’d lied to her about what was coming, why I wanted her to leave the first time on the Iceworld. And I got her roped into this mess with prisons, Eternals and creations of consciousness.”

“Oh well, not sure I understood every word of that. But you ended on a bad row, it seems she was okay in the end, forgave you.” Graham asked, “Isn’t the good though, closure and all.”

“She was good, spent a good portion of her life doing charity work. Saved her from some rough Sontarans, wanted revenge, don’t know why they went after aid workers but whatever didn’t have time to figure it out. Just wanted to see her.”

“She fought with you for that?” Yaz asked.

“No, I said the last time we really saw each other. That was when I was dying, wanted my ‘reward’ it was, I was in pain. Wanted to see everyone I’d loved before, I was vain, selfish didn’t want to go.”

“No one wants to die Doc, when I thought I was dying, all I wanted was people I loved,” Graham said.

“Wanting to see your friends isn’t selfish.” Ryan agreed.

“Thanks, guys, it’s just like a ghost talking to me,” The Doctor said walking towards the monitor, “Mistakes and good times. But I guess Mel was dependable, wanted to care about me, she’d keep her promises.”

“Yeah Doc, remember the good stuff.” Graham said, “The best right, keep it with you. What you told us.”

“Of course’ The Doctor turned to them with a smile, “Can you give me a minute though?”

“Sure Doc” Graham nodded.

Yaz came up to her and gave her a hug, The Doctor was a bit startled they hadn’t really become a hugging fam very much.

Yaz gave nodded and followed the boys out.

The Doctor turned to Mel and smiled, she took the cartridge putting it in the discarded bottle and took it in to her room for companion’s things, mausoleum, museum, or whatever it was. Passed the recently replaced Corsair message and walked to Umbrella’s friends. Noticed a place that had one of Mel’s bows and placed it in there. Under Peri, above Ace, she had a rather large drawer for her large life. Ace McShane, what had she made of her?

The Doctor looked up and down and broke. Being good, and kind, and laughing it had been her goal. But right now she didn’t care about being The Doctor she wanted to be old and sad and bitter. And guilty, ashamed, wounded. Just an old battered TIme Lady.

She walked from this room to her counsel room, she started banging on panels till one opened and River’s whisky was there, but she shut it. Not River, not now, and definitely not the Lethbridge Stewarts. That was so much guilt and sadness, to mention the last time people drank it she had been contemplating Time Lord equivalent of suicide. Not going that dark tonight thanks, stuff those thoughts way to the back.

So she wandered to a room that functioned as a liquor cabinet, Bowtie hadn’t liked the stuff, usually going for destroying property and/or putting himself in danger on bad days. But a bottle of hypervodka met her eyes and she smiled. She grabbed to bottles and went to the console room, it had so many ghosts they all blanked each other out, not personal to any of them.

She downed one whole bottle all alone, Time Lords had fast metabolisms and high tolerance. It was all the heart beating and thinking. No thinking, or at least not remembering, not working.

The second one disappeared as fast, maybe it would make her sleep, just at least sleep with nothing in her mind.

Not working, not enough. She thought and poured on more glass but her hand was caught causing her to flail out and saw it was Yaz’s hand.

“This bottle I did empty on my own.” She joked

Yaz did not seem to find her funny.

“What?” The Doctor asked.

No answer Yaz just stared at her with a look of judgment, with her other hand on her hip like a judgmental parent. Why was it Yaz’s business?

” I can drink my own vodka, in my TARDIS, by myself if I feel like it. I’m old enough to be your messiah, I can make my own decisions. So just go. Go away where you won’t get hurt.” The Doctor’s voice hit a tenor that made her age creep into the auditory world. Even if the power was dampened by the slight slur.

And Yaz looked hurt and very sad, she let The Doctor’s hand go her eyes growing wide.

“Doctor, what are talking about?” Yaz asked her hands hit the floor sitting next to The Doctor.

“What are you talking about?” The Doctor mirrored.

“You say your fine and next thing I know you’re trying to drink yourself to death.”

“I’m not as fragile as you, I can handle this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“You could have talked to me, or Ryan, or Graham.”

“You don’t understand.”

“We don’t understand loss?” Ryan snapped from the dark.

“Yes!” The Doctor stood up, “Exactly. When were you one of two people standing in the ruins of the universe, watched hordes of people die in Dalek fire, had your friend turned into a cyberman, and another, and another. When did you walk a woman into the hands of a nutcase who took her ability to have children? Have you sat in a field of blood that you made, known people see you as a monster? Seen a child sacrifice himself for the world! When were your friends torn from you by your own people more than once? Did your children burn with all of your family? Don’t pretend you can ever understand” The Doctor’s tone went from angry, to despair, to just bitterness and scorn.

They all stared at her in that way she hated like she was something otherworldly, but not a magic hero. A vengeful creature.

“Doctor?” Graham said, ton and body neutral.

“Nope, Not The Doctor right now. Not sure who I am, but guess I’m just me. Huh, guess that’s why she’s been using that name.” Tears rolled down her face hot and Then The Doctor collapsed on the floor the world going dark.

_____

She woke up with Yaz sitting next to her.

“How mad are they?” The Doctor said to the ceiling.

“You told them, losing their wife and mother didn’t count as a loss. Then kind of told us you’ve killed people. We’re all a bit miffed.” Yaz said sarcasm dripping.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Doctor I know you were in pain, but you can’t lash out at us. We’re your friends, you said we were your family.”

“I know I did, you are my best friends. I mean that I do. I shouldn’t have said what I did, it was wrong.”

“If you talk to me before it got too big to handle maybe it would be better.”

“Right try that next time.”

“Not to mention you lied. You said that one bottle was nothing but you blacked out.”

“That wasn’t just the drinking, it was that I hadn’t slept in way too long.”

“Why?”

“It’s louder when I sleep?”

“What is?”

“The screaming.”

After resting on Yaz’s orders she found Ryan and Graham using a gaming machine and library book respectively.

“I’m sorry.” The Doctor said, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

“I know that loss can make you act like a jerk Doctor, but you’re the one who says to let it make you a better person,” Graham said.

“Yes, I don’t follow my own advice enough.”

“Like using weapons when you say we can’t?” Ryan asked.

“Rule one, The Doctor lies.” The Doctor muttered to herself.

“That's not a good rule, I prefer don’t wander off,” Ryan said, looking pointedly at the screen.

“It was what my Bowtie face always said, Well more so what River said about me. But I was unfair, and I’m sorry. I know losing your wife hurts Graham, all of mine are dead. One comparatively recently and I know it hurts.”

He nodded she turned to Ryan, “ My people don’t have mothers in exactly the same sense, and the people I call my grannies it’s wasn’t the same as yours. My family weren’t exactly my biggest fans either. I should never have pretended it didn’t matter. I'm so sorry”

He nodded.

“I didn’t lie when I told you I carry them with me. I didn’t say that sometimes it’s too much. And I’ve done things I'm not proud of, but I have to be better than that, I have to try my best to be The Doctor. And I can't let it hurt the people I care about when I fail.”

They both nodded.

“If you want me to take you home I can” She offers pointing her thumb behind her.

“No Doctor, we had one fight.” Ryan said, “that’s not the end of this.”

“Doc, you're stuck with us for a while yet. But I think we should talk more yes?”

The Doctor nodded and turned around. She couldn’t help going to Bill’s room, and Nardole's saying her silent goodbyes again. Turning off the ache and noise was hard, she would just have to hide it better again.

#fandom: #doctor who #Classic Doctor Who #dw #dw eu #doctor who expanded universe #Character: #Yasmin Khan #Melanie Bush #Thirteenth Doctor #The doctor #Ryan Sinclair #graham o'brien #type: #fanfiction #txt #Relationship: #thirteenth doctor & yasmin khan #thirteenth doctor & ryan sinclair #thirteenth doctor & graham o'brien #other: #fanfic

[as-was-written]

— answer these questions then tag 20 blogs you’d like to know better!

tagged by: @hellsrhapsody​

tagging: anyone who wants to do this!

nicknames: Sammy, but only one person is allowed to call me that

zodiac: Libra

height:: 5′5

time: 12.05 pm

favorite band / artist: Queen

song stuck in my head: Nothing specific, but I’ve recently been getting the Tetris theme in my head???

last movie i saw: I believe it was Bill

last thing i googled:  Jodie Whittaker RP Icons. I want some from other shows

other blogs: hahahahaha too many ones to count. all inactive though

do i get asks: Sometimes

why did i choose this username: I wanted a URL that referenced the classic era, and in the extended universe the seventh Doctor was called the Champion of Time. I thought if the Valeyard still counted then so does that

following:  111

average amount of sleep: Not enough

what i’m wearing:  My pyjamas

dream job: Film maker

dream trip:  Trip around Europe that I’m planning

favorite food: Proper Italian pasta. oh god it’s so good

play any instruments: Piano and ukulele

eye color: Brown

hair color: Dyed ginger, although my roots are really showing right now. Naturally it’s dark brown

languages you speak: English

most iconic song: Oh god knows

random fact: One of my favourite memories is meeting Colin Baker

describe yourself as aesthetic things: Oh god i have absolutely no idea

[ao3feed-doctorwho]

The Edge of Frustration

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/XesGYVt

by DBC_82

'Oh no,' the Doctor said gravely. 'Oh yes, I'm afraid,' the older man said with a grin that was so toothy it looked almost menacing. 'We're going to have to endure one of those awkward talky things where we both insult each other a bit and generally bicker like children until we work out what's going on.'

The TARDIS is traversing a dangerous region of space-time, but the Doctor assures Ace they're perfectly safe. Instead they go exploring deep in the heart of the TARDIS only to encounter the most unexpected pair, a pretty Northern schoolteacher and her best friend, a man with the angriest eyebrows Ace has ever seen...

The Doctor is having a very bad day. Both of him.

Words: 9469, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (1963)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Seventh Doctor (Doctor Who), Ace McShane, Twelfth Doctor, Clara Oswin Oswald, Chronovore(s) (Doctor Who)

Relationships: Seventh Doctor & Ace McShane, Twelfth Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald

Additional Tags: Seventh Doctor Era, Twelfth Doctor Era, Classic Doctor Who References, Don't Have to Know Classic Doctor Who, Don't Have to Know Canon, Serial: s064 The Time Monster, Classic Who Companions Are Awesome, New Companions (Doctor Who), Post-Episode: 2018 New Year's Resolution (Doctor Who), Time Lords and Ladies (Doctor Who), Doctor Who References, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Needs a Hug, The Doctor Being the Doctor (Doctor Who), Episode: The Day of the Doctor, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Modern Doctor Who References, Post-Serial: s155 Survival, Dark Doctor (Doctor Who), Multiple Doctors (Doctor Who), Eldritch Doctor (Doctor Who), Meddling TARDIS, TARDIS Rooms, Life in the TARDIS, Broken TARDIS, Heart of the TARDIS, Travelling in the TARDIS (Doctor Who), Sentient TARDIS, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Needs Help, The Doctor (Doctor Who) is a Professor, The Doctor (Doctor Who) is a Mess

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/XesGYVt

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #doctor who #dw

[daily-doctor-who-picture]

The Seventh Doctor and Ace.

#Seventh Doctor #Ace McShane #Tag classic #Tag seventh doctor era #Tag the doctor #Tag colour #Tag doctor with companion(s) #Tag season 25 #Silver Nemesis #Tag promo shoot

[esonetwork]

Timestamp #160: Doctor Who (The Movie)

New Post has been published on https://esopodcast.com/timestamp-160-doctor-who-the-movie/

Timestamp #160: Doctor Who (The Movie)

Doctor Who: The Movie (1996)

  It’s a major turning point: The gateway between the classic era and the modern. But first, the Doctor must face Y2K.

The Master finally came to trial for his litany of crimes on the planet Skaro as part of a treaty between the Daleks and the Time Lords. Over cat eyes, we learn that the Master’s final request was for the Doctor to carry his remains back to Gallifrey for final disposition. The Doctor places the Master’s urn in a lockbox and secures it with a new sonic screwdriver before settling in with “In a Dream” on the gramaphone, The Time Machine in his hands, and a bowl of jelly babies. The control room is massive and gorgeous, and reflects the Seventh Doctor’s twilight years to a tee.

The Master breaks out of the urn and the lockbox, moving as a shadowy snake form to the TARDIS console and shorting it out, forcing the Doctor to make an emergency landing on Earth, San Francisco, New Years Eve, 1999. The TARDIS materializes in the middle of a gang fight, saving a young survivor in the process. Unfortunately, the Doctor (who didn’t use the scanners, I guess) steps into the fight and is shot. As Chang Lee calls for an ambulance, the Master escapes through the TARDIS lock.

The Doctor (on the record as John Smith) is rushed to the hospital, but modern medicine fails him. The x-ray accurately reflects his two hearts, and the bullet wounds are not particularly life-threatening (one in the shoulder, two in the leg), but the heart readings require a cardiac specialist. Enter: Grace Holloway.

The Doctor wakes up on the operating table to the sound of Madame Butterfly, pleading with Grace to stop the surgery and get him a beryllium atomic clock. The surgical team ups the anesthetic and proceeds, but human surgery on Time Lord physiology proves fatal. The Seventh Doctor dies on the operating table. Grace reviews the x-rays before informing Lee of the bad news, and Lee runs off with the Doctor’s personal effects.

We are treated to a double Time Lord resurrection: On the other side of the city, the Master has hitched a ride home with an ambulance driver named Bruce. As he snores away, preventing his wife from sleeping, Bruce is taken over and killed by the Master. Bruce’s wife is happy for the silence. At the hospital, the Doctor’s body is loaded into the morgue and regenerates in parallel with the 1931 version of Frankenstein. The Doctor bangs at the door and breaks out of the freezer, scaring the on-duty attendant. The Eighth Doctor finds a mirror (or thirteen… see what they did there?) in a broken room (seriously, what?) while humming Madame Butterfly. In shock, he screams and questions who he is.

As morning dawns, we find Grace Holloway in her office, the Doctor rifling through lockers for clothing (and discarding a replica of the Fourth Doctor’s scarf), and Lee trying to figure out what a sonic screwdriver does (as well as examining a yo-yo, the Doctor’s pocketwatch, and the TARDIS key). The Doctor finds a Wild Bill Hickok costume (intended for the New Years Eve costume party), discarding the gun belt and hat in the process. Meanwhile, the Master awakens (with glowing green eyes) and kills Bruce’s wife.

Pete, the morgue attendant, shows Grace what happened the night before. She walks right by the Doctor, who is still suffering from the effects of his regeneration, before meeting with the hospital administrator. The administrator tries to cover up the events of the botched surgery, and she quits her job as a result. As she’s leaving, the Doctor joins her in the elevator and follows her to her car. He begs her for help, pulling the abandoned cardiac probe from his chest as Grace drives him away.

The Master arrives at the hospital and demands to see the Doctor’s body, but finds out that the corpse is missing and that Lee has the Doctor’s possessions. Meanwhile, Grace and the Doctor arrive at her home to find that her boyfriend has left her (and taken her furniture). She examines the Doctor and his heartbeats as his memory fades back in. Grace is upset and confused by the whole affair, but the Doctor comforts her in his awkward way.

Lee finds his way to the TARDIS and steps inside, having one of the most amazing “bigger on the inside” moments. Unfortunately, he also finds the Master, who somehow entered before without the TARDIS key. The Master enthralls Lee and takes the Doctor’s things before demanding that Lee help him find the Time Lord. The Master tells Lee a false tale of how the Doctor stole his regenerations, offering the human gold dust and a tour of the TARDIS, including the Cloister Room. In the depths of the Cloister Room is the Eye of Harmony, the heart of the TARDIS, and Lee is able to open it with a little coercion. The Eye shows the Master and Lee the Doctor’s Seventh and Eighth incarnations, and the image of a human retina leads the Master to believe that the new Doctor is half-human.

That’s an important note to make: The Master makes the assumption that the Doctor is somehow half-human. While the Master – who has known the Doctor for a really, really long time – should presumably know better, the Doctor’s lineage is not a statement of fact. It is a wild assumption.

The Doctor finishes getting dressed (and finally removing his toe tag) as Grace examines his blood. They take a walk to clear their minds, jogging the Doctor’s memories of his own childhood. The joy of this incarnation is amazing. As the Eye of Harmony is opened, he remembers that he is the Doctor and kisses Grace, making this the first romantic moment for the Doctor in the franchise.

I’m okay with that. New face, new body, new Doctor.

With the Eye of Harmony open, the Doctor and the Master can share vision through the Eye. The Doctor closes his eyes and gives Grace the download on who he is. Lee also hears this, chipping away at the Master’s thrall. Grace runs away in shock and locks the Doctor out of her house. Despite the Doctor’s protests, Grace calls for an ambulance, but the Doctor shows her that the Eye of Harmony is tearing the planet apart by walking through a window without breaking it. The Master and Lee oblige her request by hijacking an ambulance and taking it to meet the doctor (and the Doctor).

The Doctor watches the news while they wait for the ambulance, learning that a local institute is unveiling a beryllium atomic clock, which is exactly what he needs to close the Eye. The doorbell rings, and it’s the Master calling. Grace has no idea, but the Doctor obviously recognizes the Master, and nevertheless, they all pile into the ambulance and hit the road. Eventually, the Doctor unmasks the Master and runs with Grace. They hijack a police motorcycle with jelly babies and race for the institute with the Master in pursuit.

Notably, the Doctor does use a gun once again, but it’s a distraction instead of a threat.

Lee knows a shortcut – of course he does – so they beat the Doctor and the doctor to the clock. They proceed inside and look for a way to the clock, passing the Doctor off as “Dr. Bowman” and meeting Professor Wagg, the inventor of the device. In the meantime, the Doctor explains more about himself, and distracts the professor with a joke about being half-human while swiping his badge. They take a piece of the clock, distract a guard with a jelly baby, and spot the Master before running. They race to the roof (understandably, the Doctor is afraid of heights) and use a fire hose to drop to the street before heading to the TARDIS.

They use a spare key to open the TARDIS, have a humorous moment with a police officer driving in and out of the time capsule, and go inside to install the clock component in the console. Unfortunately, the Eye has been open too long and the cosmos are in danger. The TARDIS also has no power. They attempt to jump-start the TARDIS, but Grace is enthralled by the Master as he arrives. She knocks the Doctor out and together, she and Lee take him to the Eye. The Master supervises as Grace places a device on the Doctor’s head to prop his eyes open. The Doctor pleads with Lee, and Lee refuses to open the Eye when the Doctor points out the Master’s lies. The Master kills Lee by snapping his neck, then enthralls Grace into opening the Eye.

Apparently, only a human’s eyes can open the Eye. Which is weird, but kind of plays into a theory of mine… more on that later.

The Eye’s light is focused on two points, designed in this case to channel the Doctor’s regenerative energy into the Master and extend the villain’s lifespan. The light of the Eye breaks Grace’s trance, and she runs to the console to reroute the power. At the very last second, Grace jump-starts the TARDIS and they travel into a temporal orbit. She releases the Doctor, but the Master throws her off the balcony and kills her. The two Time Lords fight over the eye, but the Doctor is triumphant and the Master falls into the Eye. The Doctor tries to rescue him, but the Master refuses and is (apparently) killed.

The Doctor places Lee and Grace on a balcony in the Cloister Room, and the energy of the Eye infuses with them, bringing them back to life courtesy of the TARDIS and its sentimentality. The Doctor shows them Gallifrey from a distance before returning midnight on January 1, 2000. Lee departs with the gold dust and a little advice after returning the Doctor’s stuff, and the Doctor offers Grace the opportunity to travel with him. Grace declines, and the Doctor departs for a new adventure.

  This presentation is deeply flawed, but it does have a lot of things working for it. I love the theme music (even if they don’t credit Ron Grainer or Delia Derbyshire) and I do love the humor and Doctor/Grace banter. On the other hand, it is swimming in the cheesiness that defined televised American science fiction in the 1990s, and a lot of those elements fall flat in the spirit of Doctor Who. I mean, can we get that hospital a little more funding for the entire floor full of broken junk?

The story also has a fixation on people stealing people’s stuff. Was there a major trend of kleptomania in the mid-90s?

Paul McGann is simply a joy to watch, and his energy and joy shines in this story. It’s also interesting to watch the “half-human” controversy play out: The Master takes it seriously based on scant evidence, but the Doctor plays it as a joke. I have often wondered if Gallifreyans are some sort of evolved human being – it’s definitely possible given that the default appearance is always human, most medical exams show only the two hearts as a physical difference, and that whole Eye of Harmony key thing – but I don’t think that the Doctor is any more human than that. The evidence just doesn’t support it.

All in all, this story would fall into the average range, which is a shame since Paul McGann deserved so much better. Of course, this was also a regeneration story, so it gets a little boost per the rules of the Timestamps Project.

    Rating: 4/5 – “Would you care for a jelly baby?”

    UP NEXT – Seventh Doctor Summary

  The Timestamps Project is an adventure through the televised universe of Doctor Who, story by story, from the beginning of the franchise. For more reviews like this one, please visit the project’s page at Creative Criticality.

#Doctor Who #Eighth Doctor #Seventh Doctor #Timestamps Project

[doctorwhonews]

Free Comic Book Day 2018 - Doctor Who Special (Titan Comics)

Latest Review: Writers: Nick Abadzis, John Freeman, George Mann and Jody Houser Artists: Giorgia Sposito, Arianna Florean, Christopher Jones, Mariano Laclustra and Rachael Stott Colorists: Marco Lesko and Carlos Cabrera Publisher: Titan Comics FC, 30pp, $0.00 On sale: May 5, 2018 With Titan Comics' regular Tenth, Eleventh and Twelfth Doctor strips each having reached the natural conclusions of their Year Three runs, and their recently-announced The Road to the Thirteenth Doctor mini-series still two months away from its launch, now seems as opportune a time as any for the publisher to take stock and prepare its readers for the adventures ahead. Enter their contribution to this year's Free Comic Book Day line-up, a 25-page one-off Special containing four bite-sized primers for the future of their regular Doctor Who strips, the Road saga and the Seventh Doctor's Titan debut alike. There's every chance, of course, that the aforementioned annual event - held at comic-book retailers the world over to promote the industry and its physical purveyors - will be over by the time that you're reading this review, yet that doesn't mean you won't find some stores such as Forbidden Planet still housing the odd copy of this much-anticipated strip here and there. Should Titan's most dedicated followers and / or newcomers to the worlds of Who comics make the trip, however, or are they best off waiting for the Doctor's printed exploits to kick off again this Summer and beyond? Let's find out... "Catch a Falling Star": For any readers like this reviewer who've yet to finish reading the latest string of Titan storylines based in the David Tennant era, Special's opening tale might well prove rather disorientating at first, though that's rather the point; seemingly deceased companion Gabby Gonzalez seems just as perplexed as she's flung through outer space after the Year Three finale presumably detached her from the TARDIS with considerable force. How better to spend the time, then, than by taking a metaphorical trip down memory line, simultaneously bringing newcomers up to speed on her recent voyages across the Time Vortex? From Sontarans to Sutekh in his reincarnated form, from Cybermen to Gabby's best friend Cindy Wu stepping aboard the Doctor's iconic Type 40 capsule, it's been one heck of an eventful ride for the despondent waitress-turned-pro artist over the last 36 months. True to form, Giorgia Sposito and Arianna Florean's dazzlingly whimsical artwork splendidly reminds us - alongside the awe-inspired sense of wonder and fantasy coming via the dialogue which writer Nick Abadzis affords Gabby - of the eclectic and unashamedly outrageous tone which made this particular TARDIS team's travels such an instant hit with fans of Titan's licensed Who output. Naturally, though, few could blame Ms. Gonzalez for questioning her life decisions given her present near-fatal predicament, so that Abadzis briefly explores her justifiable doubts as well comes as a welcome surprise, in many ways enabling us to draw parallels between the character and past companions such as Martha Jones for whom the Doctor's entrance signalled virtually the destruction of their personal lives and family ties. Who wouldn't reconsider the same dilemma as that which was posed to Donna in "Turn Left", namely whether life would've turned out better had their path never crossed with "the man who keeps running, never looking back because he dare not out of shame"? As such, it would seem that Gabby needs affirmation that her story doesn't end on such a somber note, and while we'll refrain from revealing her just how "Catch a Falling Star" concludes, we can say that she might just get her wish and transform the Doctor's future in the process... “The Armageddon Gambit”: The best way to summarize the second narrative barrage in Special’s artillery is as an audition piece for Andrew Cartmel and Ben Aaronovitch’s impending Seventh Doctor mini-series, “Operation Volcano”. Unlike that five-part saga, John Freeman takes on writing duties for “The Armageddon Gambit”, but if his remarkably authentic rendition of Sylvester McCoy and Sophie Aldred’s wit-laden, mentor-student-esque banter from their 1980s run as the Doctor and Ace serves as any indication of what to expect from “Volcano” upon its launch next month, then experiencing each issue over the coming weeks should seem remarkably akin to watching a McCoy serial on TV / home video / streaming platforms for the first time. While Freeman’s relatively standalone narrative – which sees the ever-courageous time travellers chirpily interrupt a band of galactic tyrants standing on the brink of galactic conquest, having bested the Draconians, Chimerions and Voord alike – probably won’t win this year’s Pulitzer Prize for literary ingenuity, his script does at least enable the mini-series’ artistic / colour tag team of Christopher Jones and Marco Lesko to amply strut their stuff. Their bold style, in marked contrast to Sposito and Florean’s tonally befitting impressionistic imagery, does a splendid job of bringing the tale’s characters to vivid life, with Lesko’s choice to embroid the chief Kla-shi-kel clansman with striking golden armour for example visibly setting him apart in military stature and greed-driven ambitions. Look out in particular for their pitch-perfect depiction of the Doctor and Ace’s grand entrance, an instantly iconic raison d'etre for “Armageddon” which easily stands among Titan’s most memorable panels to date. “Midnight Feast”: Whereas Abadzis and Freeman both had their fair share of legwork in terms of painting a roadmap for the future flights of the Seventh and one other Doctor here, one can almost hear George Mann’s relief at finding no such pressure exerted upon his Eleventh Doctor contribution by Titan’s head honchos. “Midnight Feast” makes no apologies for its lighthearted tone or completely standalone storyline, then, with Mann instead affirming to newcomers his ability to capture Matt Smith’s zany eccentricity and energetic zest for life, all while re-introducing his ex-librarian companion Alice Obiefune along the way. Yet it’s fair to say that Alice rather laments her inclusion here, finding her travelling companion ransacking the TARDIS kitchen for edible delights before he zips off to the nearest alien restaurant to find alternative inspiration. Laying many criticisms at the feet of a self-proclaimed “culinary adventure” such as “Feast” would seem rather harsh, especially with Mariano Laclaustra’s diverse menagerie of stunningly-rendered alien patrons calling to mind Star Wars’ Mos Eisley Cantina in its aesthetic inventiveness. The only warning that we’d give, however, is that those unfamiliar with Alice won’t find the same level of introductory exposition here as that which Gabby provided regarding her past in “Falling Star”, largely since the latter’s existential plight gave Abadzis the ideal plot device to justify such nostalgic reminiscing. Since Alice only features for but a few panels here, this reviewer would instead advise anyone wanting to catch up on her entry into the Doctor’s life – between Amy and Rory’s turbulent honeymoon and reunion for the Time Lord’s death in “The Impossible Astronaut” – to check out the first volume of Year One, After Life, ahead of Year Four’s presumed launch later this year. "And Introducing..." What of Doctor Who’s fast-approaching return to BBC One with a new face, though? Does Jodie Whittaker’s absence from Special’s multi-Doctor front cover mean that we shouldn’t expect to see her incarnation feature in Titan’s licensed roster for the time being? Not at all – browse past the insightful Reader’s Guide at the end of the strip, which details the various regular strips, crossovers and classic Doctor mini-series currently available, and you’ll find three panels featuring a strange new world, strange new fauna and feathered onlookers, a strange new TARDIS and its strange new occupant embarking on her first ‘canon’ journey, her face brimming with visible passion and already infectious joy at discovering the unknown. Much as every fan relishes jumping to far-fetched conclusions from even Who’s most basic marketing materials, the rousing thrill that comes with turning the page and witnessing the Thirteenth Doctor in action for the first time can’t possibly be denied. That her increasingly coveted costume and intriguing extraterrestrial surroundings are drawn in such a majestic light by Rachael Stott, the upcoming Thirteenth Doctor regular strip’s resident artist, just goes to show that she’s fully aware of the significance of this watershed moment for the show. The same can be said of Jody Houser’s daringly dialogue-devoid script, aping Whittaker’s reveal video last year in building its structure entirely around the new incarnation’s gravitas-laden arrival. A tremendous end, then, to a tremendous Free Comic Book Day special, one which accomplishes the remarkable joint feats of setting past Doctors on unexpected new trajectories for the coming months and making the Thirteenth’s debut – both on-screen and the printed page – that much more of an exciting proposition. Be sure to follow our reviews of Titan’s The Thirteenth Doctor series as it kicks off in tandem with Season Eleven this Autumn… http://reviews.doctorwhonews.net/2018/05/free_comic_book_day_2018_doctor_who_special_titan_c.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

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