#Chiswick Press

[uwmspeccoll]

Wood Engraving Wednesday

Here are a few delightful wood engravings from a recent gift showing the various processes that go into binding a book. This little pamphlet is entitled A Short History of Bookbinding and a Glossary of Styles and Terms Used in Binding . . . .printed in London at the Chiswick Press for the bookbinder Joseph William Zaehnsdorf in 1895.These images were probably printed from metal plates that were made from the original wood engravings. The engravings are not attributed, as was the case for most commercial engravings.

Click or tap on the images to see the definitions for these activities as provided in the booklet’s glossary. 

View more posts with wood engravings!

[forestoflys]

How to Dehydrate Herbs

This is my first post on my newly-minted digital grimoire, so I thought I'd start out with info I already know. Here's a short little guide on how to dehydrate herbs and other materials at home in your oven (if you have one). I usually dehydrate fresh materials instead of hanging them as firstly: I have a cat who will find a way to reach anything I hang up to dry, and secondly: there are some materials I don't feel comfortable leaving out in open air as they will likely rot. Also, it just saves on drying time.

Steps:

1. Grab whatever you want to dehydrate whether it be fruits, peels, herbs, veg, or (my favourite) eggshells.

Important Note: DO NOT EVER put plants which are known to be toxic or whose origins are unclear in your oven. It's never worth it.

2. Place your items on a sheet pan with parchment paper underneath (there may be lingering oils on the pan, but if you are okay with that feel free to skip the parchment).

3. If your oven is fancy and you have a dehydration setting, great! Use the recommended temperature. If not, set your oven between 160-190*. I usually set it lower, but if you're short on time it will work higher.

4. This is the most crucial step: keep your oven door slightly ajar in order to let moisture escape. However, very importantly DO NOT EVER LEAVE YOUR OPEN OVEN UNATTENDED (or your closed one, for that matter), especially if you have an older oven. Basic fire safety applies here.

5. The process usually takes around 2 hours if you are dehydrating thinner plants, but may take up to 3-4 if you are dehydrating something thicker like citrus peels or fruit slices. Either way, be prepared to wait a bit. You will know they are done when you can easily crush them if plants or they are breakably-solid if peels. With eggshells they will be brittle anyways, but it's nice to dehydrate them to more easily grind into a powder and also to kill any lingering bacteria.

6. Store herbs as you usually would in a container away from sunlight. Enjoy!

Sources:

Printer's Ornament (Chiswick Press, 192)

[ingravinoveritas]

craftyballoonwinner mentioned you on a post "anna always got to prove to us she still got her…”

I can't wait for @nightgoodomens and @ingravinoveritas takes on today. Something happened and while I'm happy to not have GM around the fact it was MS&DT ALL night makes my eyebrows raise.

@craftyballoonwinner It has taken me the last few days to process everything that happened on Friday, because to say that I am floored by what we got is a tremendous understatement.

We knew that Michael had been in London and had specifically gotten a house in Chiswick close to David's house since November of last year, for his run in Nye at the National Theatre. We knew that the second run in Cardiff ended on June 1st and that as soon as it did, Michael immediately came back to London. We knew that--schedules and work/family commitments allowing--they were likely spending a great deal of time together (despite only seeing three pictures of them over the course of that entire interval: The Macbeth photo, the blurry pic that Anna posted back in November, and the photo from Lapland last December).

The smallest pieces, flashes of something beautiful and bright yet still obscured, ensconced from public view. So much so that I never in a million years expected Michael to come to Pub in the Park--hoped, certainly, but the thought of it actually happening seemed like a distant dream, a dazzling impossibility.

But this past Friday was just...so extraordinary and lovely precisely because it was ordinary. It wasn't a press junket or an interview or Michael and David promoting something...it was just them. The two of them together, basking in the warmth of each other's presence. It was there even in the first picture I saw, and it permeated through every clip, every moment of them at the event:

The smiles. The ease and comfort they have around each other. The effortless love that just exists between Michael and David, and that is tangible in every dimension, as much on a screen as in real life. And when they were on stage together, it wasn't even that they played off each other so well--it was that Michael's last minute appearance didn't cause either of them to lose so much as a step. It was that you just knew that they couldn't have put any other two people up on that stage without prior planning and had that same chemistry, that charm and familiarity. And it was just so damn wonderful to see Michael and David looking so happy and joyful overall.

As for what happened with Georgia, I am just more confused than anything else. For the last month and a half, Georgia heavily promoted PitP, and both she and David billed her as a co-host. Every flyer, every piece of promotion that was shared (both by the PitP social media and Georgia) mentioned her as a co-host, along with David. She even did an interview on the Gaby Roslin podcast with David and Arabella Weir where she was again specifically referred to as a co-host and admitted not knowing her own Instagram handle, as well as saying that she would be active on Insta during the PitP event.

There is a strange irony to the podcast as well, given that David actually said "We're failing our hosting duties right here!" in the above linked clip, and what seemed like a joke at the time actually came to pass. For whatever reason, Georgia failed in her duty, the job that she signed up to do. Had it been because of all the attacks that David was a target of over the past week after the blow-up with Kemi Badenoch, Rishi Sunak, and the entire Tory party, that would have made sense. I would have completely understood if Georgia, who had also been targeted in those attacks, was feeling anxious or worried about her/the kids' safety and elected to stay home instead.

However...Georgia didn't stay home. She actually was at the event, as were several of their kids (Ty and Olive, from what I've seen). She was there, drinking and dancing, and somehow that made her abdication of co-hosting duty even more conspicuous and strange. It also makes it increasingly obvious that Michael's appearance on stage was a last minute occurrence and not part of the original plan of events.

So what actually happened? I don't know. None of us know, and it's likely we won't know until a later time, if ever. But in the real world, if you are given a job to do, if a contract is signed with a written agreement to do that job and you don't do the job, there are consequences. At the very least, it can negatively affect someone's reputation and reduce the likelihood of them receiving offers for future jobs. On the other end, you could be looking at potential lawsuits for things like breach of contract. And none of this even gets into disappointed fans or attendees who might've been hoping to see Georgia host and who could possibly now claim to be victims of false advertising because she didn't.

It also feels like a huge missed opportunity on the part of PitP, who could have potentially raised hundreds or even thousands of pounds more for charity had Michael been booked as a co-host, or even a guest. Regardless of whether Michael was there in an official capacity, though, I am just glad that he was there, and that we got to see the two of them together again.

The night may have lacked the glitz and formal glamour of the NTAs, but it more than made up for it with the relaxed domesticity we got to see between Michael and David. And now that Michael is hanging around London a bit longer, hopefully there will be many more memorable nights like this to come.

[mybeingthere]

Lettice Sandford, British printmaker, draughtsman, watercolourist, publisher and craft worker. 1902 - 1993.

Born 1902 in St Albans, Hertfordshire. Studied at the Byam Shaw and Vicat Cole School of Art, then at Chelsea School of Art, 1926-9, working under Percy Jowett (1882-1955). She was taught to engrave on wood by Robert Day and etching by Graham Sutherland (q.v.). She married Christopher Sandford in 1929. Their son was the playwrite Jeremy Sandford (1930-2003). With her husband ran the Boar's Head Press, whose books were printed at the Chiswick Press. In 1933 they bought the Golden Cockerel Press from Robert Gibbings (q.v.). She illustrated many of their books: engraving on wood, copper and zinc and published two of her own children's books. After WWII she illustrated 4 books for the Folio Society. After the Press was sold in 1959 she and her husband created a small museum at their home in Eye Manor nr. Leominster. She became an expert in corn dollies, reviving the craft and writing a practical leaflet and 'Decorative Straw Work and Corn Dollies' 1964.

The British Museum

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 3) Chapter Seventeen

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Seventeen: Honest Confrontations

Summary: Sherlock and (Y/N) organize a talk with Mary.

            Sherlock and (Y/N) had spent all of their genius energy in laying their…well, not trap but something of the sort. They had uncovered all they could about the real Mary Watson, and now it was time to talk to her face-to-face. The father and child had made their decisions about her. Now it was time to see how she acted.

            Sherlock peered out of their hiding place and lifted their phone. His network had just handed Mary the burner phone. He looked at (Y/N).

            They nodded. They knew it was time.

            Sherlock dialed the number, and Mary lifted the phone to her ear.

            “Where are you two?” she said instantly, not missing a beat.

            “Can’t you see us?” said Sherlock.

            “Well, what am I looking for?” asked Mary, turning around.

            “The lie—the lie in Leinster Gardens—hidden in plain sight,” said (Y/N). “No one notices. People live here their whole lives and never spot it, but if you are what we think you are, it’ll take you less than a minute.”

            “The houses, Mary, look at the houses,” said Sherlock as Mary peered around herself.

            “How did you two know I’d come here?” she asked.

            “We knew you’d talk to people no one else would both with,” said Sherlock.

            “I thought I was being clever,” said Mary.

            “You were. We just made sure you had the clues to be,” said (Y/N).

            Mary paused as she faced a house. She had found it.

            “Thirty seconds,” said (Y/N).

            “What am I looking at?” she said as she gazed at it.

            “No doorknobs, no letter box, painted windows. Twenty-three and twenty-four Leinster Gardens…the empty houses,” said Sherlock.

            “They were demolished years ago to make way for the London Underground. They acted as a vent for old steam trains. Only the very front of the house remains. It’s just a façade,” said (Y/N). “Does it remind you of anything? Masks and facades?”

            Sherlock pressed a button, and a projector hidden on the other side of the street switched on. A picture of John and Mary’s wedding illuminated the facades of the houses. Mary’s eyes widened slightly as she looked.

            “Sorry. I can’t resist a touch of drama,” said Sherlock into the phone.

            “Come on in,” said (Y/N).

            “It’s a little cramped,” warned Sherlock.

            “Do you own this place?” said Mary as she headed towards the door.

            “I won it in a card game with the Clarance House Cannibal. Nearly cost me my kidneys, but fortunately, I had a straight flush,” said Sherlock. “Quite the gambler, that woman.”

            Mary pushed open the door and stepped inside the empty houses. All that remained was a single, long corridor. It was dark and shadowy except for a bright beam of light shining into her eyes. She blinked, trying to make out a shape inside it. All she could spy was silhouettes, nothing concrete.

            “What do you two want?” said Mary.

            “Mary Morstan was stillborn in October 1972,” said (Y/N). “Her gravestone sits in Chiswick Cemetery.”

            “Five years ago, you acquired her name and date of birth and, thereafter, her identity,” said Sherlock. “That’s why you don’t have ‘friends’ from before that date.”

            Mary took slow, careful steps down the hallway.

            “It’s an old enough technique, known to the kinds of people who can recognize a skip code on sight,” said Sherlock.

            “And have extraordinarily retentive memories,” added (Y/N).

            “You two were very slow,” said Mary.

            “How good a shot are you?” asked Sherlock.

            Mary reached into her coat, pulled out a pistol, and aimed at the silhouettes. “How badly do you two want to find out?” she remarked coolly.

            “If we die here, our bodies will be found in a building with your face projected on the front of it. Even Scotland Yard could get somewhere with that,” said Sherlock.

            And if I was right about where she was aiming on Sherlock to begin with…then she doesn’t want to kill us, thought (Y/N). But not wanting to and being unable to are two different things.

            “Show us how good you are,” said (Y/N).

            Mary reached into her bag and pulled out a fifty pence coin. She flicked it into the air and fired upwards. It clattered to the ground.

            “May we see?” said Sherlock, stepping out behind Mary.

            She turned to face him and glanced at (Y/N), partly obscured by a doorway. “They’re dummies, I suppose. It was a fairly obvious trick.” She chuckled quietly and crossed to where the coin had fallen. She slid it with her foot to Sherlock and (Y/N).

            Sherlock crouched and picked it up since (Y/N)’s injury meant they should stay upright. He held it up to reveal the hole in it, perfect and precise.

            “You’re an excellent shot.” (Y/N) looked at Mary. “But when you aimed at my dad, at a distance of six feet, you wouldn’t have made a kill shot. You didn’t even make a kill shot in the split second it took when I pushed my dad out of the way.”

            “Enough to hospitalize. Not enough to kill. That wasn’t a miss,” said Sherlock. “It was surgery.”

            Mary lowered her eyes.

            “We’ll take the case,” said (Y/N).

            Mary looked up again. “What case?” she asked, confused.

            “Yours,” said (Y/N).

            “Why didn’t you come to us in the first place?” questioned Sherlock, a bit frustrated.

            “Because John can’t ever know that I lied to him,” said Mary. “It would break him, and I would lose him forever—and Sherlock, (Y/N), I will never let that happen.” Sherlock and (Y/N) glanced at each other and turned their backs on Mary. “Please…understand,” she said, stepping towards them. “There is nothing in this world that I would not do to stop that happening.”

            (Y/N) faced her again. “Sorry.” Mary frowned. “The trick wasn’t that obvious.” They flicked a switch on the fuse box.

            The harsh beam of light shut off. One dummy was revealed at the end of the hall. John sat next to it. Mary gasped. John stood and straightened his collar.

            “Talk,” said (Y/N). The pair looked at them. “Sort it out. Now.”

            They turned away and walked out of the house with Sherlock beside them. The moment they stepped to the street, (Y/N) groaned and grabbed the back of a bench. Their other hand went to their chest. The pain had returned.

            “(Y/N)?” Sherlock supported them. “You need to—”

            “I’m fine. Just an ache.” (Y/N) forced themself to stand up. They needed to see this through, first. “Let’s just get back to Baker Street.”

            Sherlock gazed at them worriedly and squeezed their shoulder. “Are you sure?” He could put his own health above a gaze, but he wouldn’t sacrifice theirs.

            “I want to finish this,” said (Y/N).

            Sherlock looked at them. They truly had grown so strong.

l

            Sherlock, (Y/N), John, and Mary—all in awkward silence since John and Mary hadn’t quite found the words to speak yet—walked into 221 Baker Street.

            “Oh, John, Mary! How wonderful,” said Mrs. Hudson, smiling widely. She frowned as she saw the tense expressions on their faces and (Y/N)’s sickly paleness. “What’s going on?”

            “Bloody good question,” muttered John.

            “The Watsons are about to have a domestic,” said Sherlock.

            “I hope they do it quickly,” said (Y/N) as pain spread through their chest as they breathed.

            “I have a better question,” said John angrily. “Is everyone I’ve ever met a psychopath?!”

            “Yes,” said Sherlock and (Y/N), and Mary nodded.

            “Good, we’ve settled that,” said Sherlock. “Anyway, we—”

            “Shut up!” shouted John. “And stay shut up, the both of you, because this is not funny. Not this time.”

            (Y/N) nodded. They knew John was feeling confused and betrayed. They imagined it was similar to how they felt when Sherlock revealed himself to be alive. I believe this is “empathy.” That’s unusual…I must be going delirious.

            John turned on Mary. “You. What have I ever done, hm? My whole life…to deserve you?” The normally kind words turned sickly, poisoned by lies.

            “Everything,” said Sherlock.

            “Sherlock, I’ve told you to shut up,” snapped John.

            “He’s being serious,” said (Y/N), furrowing their brow. The need to breath was battling with the ache in their chest. “Everything you’ve done brought you here.” Everyone looked at them, and John furrowed his brow. “You were the man who went to war. You were the man who couldn’t stay in the suburbs for more than a month without storming a crack den and beating up a junkie. One of your best friends is a sociopath who solves crimes to keep from getting bored. You’re the uncle to a teenager whose biological father is a psychopath and is a sociopath themself. Our landlady used to run a drug cartel.”

            (Y/N) sighed and cocked their head. “Isn’t it obvious that you’re addicted to a certain lifestyle? You’re abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people, so it’s not surprising that the woman you’ve fallen in love with conforms to that pattern.”

            John’s gaze went to Mary. He let out a shaky breath. “But she wasn’t supposed to be like that. Why is she like that?” His voice broke on the words.

            “You chose her,” said (Y/N) quietly.

            John let out a shout and kicked a chair. “Why is everything my fault?!”

            “Oh, the neighbors!” cried Mrs. Hudson, rushing out to the door to do damage control.

            “John, listen. Answer me,” said Sherlock. “Who is she?”

            “My lying wife?” said John, still staring at Mary. He was caught between sadness and anger.

            “No. Who is she?” repeated Sherlock.

            “The woman who’s carrying my child who has lied to me since the day I met her?” said John.

            “No. Not in this flat, not in this room. Right here, right now. Who is she?” said Sherlock.

            John sniffed and looked down. He squared his shoulders. “Okay. Your way. Always your way.” He pulled out a dining room chair to face the couch, armchair, and his chair. It had returned oh-so-suddenly to Baker Street. “Sit.”

            Mary looked at John. “Why?”

            “Because that’s where they sit—the people who come in here with their stories,” said John. “Th-the clients. That’s all you are now, Mary. You’re a client.” He was dealing with this as best he could. “This is where you sit and talk, and this is where we sit and listen, then we decide if we want you or not.” He sniffled, stifled any weaknesses, and stiffly sat down.

            Sherlock and (Y/N) exchanged a glance before walking to the living room and sitting down in their spots. Mary watched them before taking her own place across from them. She placed her purse down, adjusted her outfit, and looked at John. He couldn’t help but look back. Mary removed a flash drive from her bag and placed it on the side table of his chair. She withdrew her hand quickly. Everyone sat in silence as she moved.

            “A.G.R.A,” said (Y/N), reading the label on the drive. “What is it?”

            “My initials,” said Mary, deciding to be truthful. Lies wouldn’t keep John. “Everything about who I was is on there. If you love me, don’t read it in front of me.”

            “Why?” said John.

            “Because you won’t love me when you’ve finished, and I don’t want that to happen,” said Mary, fighting back her tears. She cleared her throat fruitlessly and looked at (Y/N) and Sherlock. “How much d’you know?”

            “By your skill set, you are, or were, an intelligence agent,” said Sherlock. “Your accent is currently English, but we suspect you’re not. You’re on the run from something; you’ve used your skill to disappear.”

            “Magnussen knows your secret. That’s why you were going to kill him, and you befriended Janine to get close to him,” said (Y/N).

            Mary nodded. “The stuff Magnussen has on me…I would go to prison for the rest of my life.”

            “So you were just gonna kill him,” said John.

            “People like Magnussen should be killed. That’s why there are people like me,” said Mary.

            “Perfect! So that’s what you were: an assassin!” said John in disbelief. “How could I not see that?”

            “You did see that…and you married me,” said Mary, gazing at him softly. “Because they are right. It’s what you like.”

            “So, Mary, any documents that Magnussen has concerning you, you want…extracted and returned,” said Sherlock.

            “Why would you help me?” said Mary.

            “Because (Y/N) forgives you,” said Sherlock.

            Mary scoffed.

            “And you phoned the ambulance,” said Sherlock. “The ambulance that saved their life.”

            “Sherlock phoned the ambulance,” said John.

            “I did,” said Sherlock. “But mine wouldn’t get there in time. Mary’s did.”

            “So, John, Magnussen is all that matters now,” said (Y/N), moving to lay down on the couch. “You can trust Mary. She saved my life.”

            “She shot you,” said John.

            “Mixed messages,” said (Y/N), sighing and closing their eyes. “Are we all on the same page?”

            “I believe so,” said Sherlock.

            “Good, because I lied about just having an ache,” said (Y/N). “I’m bleeding internally.”

            Sherlock jumped up, and John let out a cry.

            “Someone should call an ambulance,” said (Y/N), promptly fainting.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

@lxserthxngzzz

@forever1313

@mentallyunstablemanlover

[leanstooneside]

"CEL"EBRITY WORDS

1. AT TIMES

2. CHISWICK PRESS

[thezombiegeekinthehawaiianshirt]

In 1999, Jill Dando, presenter for the BBC "unsolved crime" series Crimewatch, was murdered during her time as host for the show.

On the morning of April 26, 1999, 37-year-old Dando left her fiancé's home in Chiswick and drove to her house in Fulham, which she was in the process of selling.

She stopped by to collect contract documents, and as she reached her front door around 11:32 a.m., she was shot once in the head.

Neighbor Helen Doble found her body about 14 minutes later and alerted the police at 11:47. Dando was taken to Charing Cross Hospital, where she was declared dead on arrival at 1:03 p.m.

Forensic analysis showed that Dando was shot with a 9mm Short caliber semi-automatic pistol, with the gun pressed against her head. The cartridge appeared modified, possibly to reduce its charge.

Her neighbor, Richard Hughes, heard her scream but no gunshot, thinking it was a startled reaction.

Looking out his window, Hughes unknowingly witnessed the killer—a six-foot-tall white man around 40—walking away from Dando’s house.

Crimewatch reconstructed her murder and a suspect, Barry George, was convicted. However, the conviction was later overturned, he was acquitted upon retrial.

No other suspects have ever been charged with Dando's murder and the case remains unsolved.

[vmonteiro23a]

ONCE IN ’79: The Nips - "Gabrielle"

ONCE IN ’79: The Nips – “Gabrielle” “October 1, 1979 THE NIPS have their third single released today. They’ve signed up with Soho Records, who’ve pressed up two more Shane MacGowan originals, “Gabrielle” and “Vengeance.” There has also been a distribution deal struck with Chiswick Records so that their future singles will have wider reach.  The Nips are Shane MacGowan, Shanne Bradley, and new…

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

A MIXTURE OF HEAVY BLUES, SPEEDFREAK ROCK 'N' ROLL, & BIKER-PUNK ATTITUDE BALLISTICS.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on an original vinyl pressing of "Motörhead," the self-titled quasi debut album by English rock and roll band, MOTÖRHEAD, released on August 21, 1977 under the Chiswick label (WIK 2). Sleeve art by Joe Petagno.

MINI-OVERVIEW: ""Motörhead" is the self-titled debut studio album by British rock band MOTÖRHEAD. It was released on 21 August 1977 via Chiswick Records, one of the first for the label. It is officially regarded as the band's debut album, though an album was recorded in 1975 for United Artists which was shelved, and was only released in 1979 after the band had established themselves commercially."

-- DISCOGS (official site)

Source: www.picuki.com/media/3082143401928222679.

[alexadd77]

Motorhead -Motorhead Lp 1981 (1977) Chiswick/Movieplay - Spain.. Spanish first press with 3 extra tracks El debut en disco grande de los Motörhead en su difícil edición española con tres temas extras de la misma sesión de grabacion. Entrada en Spanish Bombs blog (Link en bio) #motorhead #lemmy #heavymetal #metal #punk #album #33rpm #punkrock #lp #hardrock #vinyl #artwork #classicrock #recordcollection #recordcollector #rock #classicrock #rock #music #rocknroll #vinylcollection#vinylcollectionpost#vinylcollector #chiswickrecords #classicalbum

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[rhianna]

The origin and manufacture of playing cards; a paper read before the Society of arts on May 8, 1889.

Description

Tools

Cite thisExport citation fileMain AuthorClulow, George.Language(s)English PublishedLondon, Printed at the Chiswick press, 1889. SubjectsPlaying cards Physical Description[4], 40 p.

[uwmspeccoll]

Typography Tuesday

This untitled pamphlet was a Christmas keepsake from Tony and Patsy Appleton printed in an edition of 100 copies in 1984 at their Old School Press, which at the time was in Buckland Dinham, England. Our copy has a signed presentation to "Abe & Kit." A printed message to recipients at the beginning of the pamphlet describes the contents and the reason for printing the keepsake:

I have recently acquired a Chiswick Press type specimen book showing the incomparable collection of initial letters, head & tailpieces, and borders & ornaments. Most of them were engraved by Mary Byfield, and a number were designed by Charlotte and Elizabeth Whittingham. This book may be the sole survivor of a small number made up for internal use in the press composing room. . . . I may possibly issue a facsimile of this 142 leaf specimen. In the meantime, here is an advance tasting for friends this Christmas. . . .

Our copy is another gift from our friend Jerry Buff.

View our other Typography Tuesday posts.

[forestoflys]

An Introduction

Hello all, my name is Lys! I am okay with the use of any pronouns, however I am partial to he/they. I’m a 23 year-old beginner witch whose focus is primarily on southern Italian healing traditions as well as classical Roman folk magic. Aside from being Italian-American, I also come from an academic background studying Latin literature and the Roman religion; however, my practice does not solely revolve around these subjects as I often incorporate more popular traditions.

This blog does not tolerate:

Homophobia/Transphobia

Zionism/Antisemitism/Racism/White Supremacy/Islamophobia/Bigotry of Any Kind

Pulling from closed cultural traditions if you yourself are not a part of said culture

In addition, while I am not intolerant of minors liking/reblogging my content, I would ask that if you are under 18 that you do not follow me or strike up conversation. This is technically a SFW blog, but while I’ve got nothing against you I would simply like to keep any interactions 18+.

Source:

Printer’s Ornament (Chiswick Press, 192)

[legends-of-time]

Thorn Bush (Doctor Who Story)

Chapter 13: The End of Time Part Two

Masterlist

In Joshua Naismith's study, Kathy and the Doctor have been bound and gagged, strapped upright to two trolleys. Wilf is tied to a chair nearby.

The Master leans toward the two of them. "Now then, I've got a planet to run." He walks away. "Is everybody ready?"

Joshua Naismith-Master appears on the screen in the room. "Six billion, seven hundred and twenty seven million, nine hundred and forty nine thousand three hundred and thirty eight versions of us awaiting orders."

Barack Obama-Master then appears on the screen in the room. "This is Washington. As President of the United States, I can transfer all the United Nations protocols to you immediately, putting you in charge of all the Earth's defences."

"UNIT HQ, Geneva reporting. All under your command, sir." Says a Master in a general's uniform on the screen.

"And this is the Central Military Commission here in Beijing, sir, with over two point five million soldiers, sir. Present arms!" Says another Master in a different uniform.

"Enough soldiers and weapons to turn this planet into a warship. Nothing to say, Doctor? Kathy? What's that? Pardon? Sorry?" The Master mocks their inability to be heard.

"You let him go, you swine," Wilf warns.

"Oh, your dad's still kicking up a fuss."

"Yeah? Well, I'd be proud if I was."

"Hush, now. Listen to your Master." He turns away but his attention is diverted back to Wilf when the man's phone rings. "But that's a mobile."

"Yeah, it's mine. Let me turn it off." Wilf tries to dismiss.

"No, no, no, no, no. I don't think you understand. Everybody on this planet is me." The Master argues. "And I'm not phoning you, so who the hell is that?"

"It's nobody. I tell you, it's nothing. It's probably one of them ring-back calls." Wilf tries again.

The Master searches Wilf's pockets and finds the revolver. "Oooh, and look at this. Good man!" He tosses it on the floor and gets the phone. "Donna. Who's Donna?"

"She's no one. Just leave it." Wilf tries.

"Gramps, don't hang up. You've got to help me. I ran out, but everyone was changing." Donna sobs through the phone once the Master presses to answer.

"Who is she? Why didn't she change?" The Master demands. While she's concerned for Donna, Kathy bides her time, waiting.

"Gramps, I can't hear you."

"Well, it was this thing the Doctor did. He did it to her. The Metacrisis." Wilf replies.

"Oh, he loves playing with Earth girls. Ugh!" The Master grumbles.

"Are you there?"

"Find her. Trace the call." The Master tells the Joshua Naismith-Master.

"Trace the call."

"Are you still there? Can you hear me?" Donna continues.

"Say goodbye to the freak, Granddad." The Master presses the phone to Wilf's ear.

"Donna, get out of there! Just get out of there. I'm telling you, run!" Wilf instructs.

"She's on Wessex Lane, Chiswick. Open the phone lines. Everyone on Wessex Lane. Red alert." Joshua Naismith-Master reports.

"What do I do?"

"Run, sweetheart, that's all. Run for your life!" Wilf tells his granddaughter.

"There's more of them," Donna tells him.

"Donna? What's happening? Are you still there?"

"They're everywhere."

"Look, I'm telling you to run, Donna," Wilf orders her. "Just run, sweetheart. Just run."

"It's not just them. I can see those things again." Donna cries. "Those creatures. Why can I see a giant wasp?"

"Donna, don't think about that. Donna, my love. Don't!"

"And it hurts. My head. It keeps getting hotter, and hotter, and hotter, and hotter, and hotter!" There's a scream then silence.

"Donna? What was that? Donna? Donna, are you there? Donna! Donna! Donna!" Wilf weeps. The Doctor and Kathy begin smiling, and the former winks. The Master storms over and removes their gags.

"That's better. Hello. But really, did you think we'd leave our best friend without a defence mechanism?" The Doctor explains.

"Kathy? Doctor? What happened?" Wilf asks.

"She's alright. She's fine, I promise. She'll just sleep." Kathy tells him. She's thankful that her memories of the show are helping her keep up with all this.

"Tell me, where's your TARDIS?" The Master asks the Doctor.

"You could be so wonderful." The Doctor replies.

"Where is it?"

The Doctor continues. "You're a genius. You're stone cold brilliant, you are. I swear, you really are. But you could be so much more. You could be beautiful. With a mind like that, we could travel the stars. It would be my honour. Because you don't need to own the universe, just see it. To have the privilege of seeing the whole of time and space. That's ownership enough."

"Would it stop, then? The noise in my head?" The Master asks vulnerably and it's in one of these moments Kathy feels sorry for him.

"I can help." The Doctor turns to Kathy. "We can."

"I don't know what I'd be without that noise."

"I wonder what I'd be, without you." The Doctor says.

"Yeah." The Master adds, teary eyed.

"I know where I would be," Kathy mutters.

"What does he mean? What noise?" Wilf questions.

"It began on Gallifrey, as children. Not that you'd call it childhood." The Master explains. "More a life of duty. Eight years old. I was taken for initiation, to stare into the Untempered Schism." Kathy remembers her box. The pain.

"What does that mean?"

"It's a gap in the fabric of reality. You can see into the Time Vortex itself. And it hurts." The Doctor explains.

"They took me there in the dark." The Master continues. "I looked into time, old man, and I heard it calling to me. Drums. The never ending drums. Listen to it. Listen."

"Then let's find it. You and me." The Doctor pleads.

"Except." Kathy sees the realisation dawn on the Master. "Oh. Oh, wait a minute. Oh, yes. Oh, that's good."

"What? What is?"

"The noise exists within his head, and now within six billion heads," Kathy explains. A signal the Time Lords had sent.

"Everyone on Earth can hear it. Imagine. Oh. Oh, yes." The Master cackles as his skeleton becomes briefly visible again. He bends over in pain.

"The Gate wasn't enough. You're still dying." The Doctor tells him.

"This body was born out of death. All it can do is die." The Master retorts. "But what did you say to me, back in the wasteland? You said the end of time."

"I said something is returning." The Doctor answers. "We were shown a prophecy. That's why we need your help."

"What if I'm part of it? Don't you see? The drumbeat is calling from so far away. From the end of time itself. And now it's been amplified six billion times. Triangulate all those signals. I could find its source. Oh, Doctor. That's what your prophecy was. Me!" He slaps the Doctor. "Where's the TARDIS?"

"No. Just stop. Just think."

The Master points to Wilf. "Kill him." A helmeted guard goes over to Wilf. Kathy tries not to smirk knowingly. "I need that technology, Doctor. Tell me where it is, or the old man is dead."

"Don't tell him." Wilf pleads.

"I'll kill him right now!" The Master yells.

"Actually, the most impressive thing about you is that after all this time, you're still bone dead stupid." The Doctor remarks casually.

"Take aim."

"You've got six billion pairs of eyes, but you've missed what's right in front of you." Kathy continues.

"Like what?"

"That guard is one inch too tall." The Doctor tells him.

The guard knocks out the Master with his rifle butt and then removes his helmet to reveal a green spiky head. "Oh my God, I hit him. I've never hit anyone in my life." Rossiter exclaims.

Green Addams runs in. "Well, come on. We need to get out of here fast." She frees Wilf while Rossiter releases the Doctor and Kathy.

"God bless the cactuses!" Wilf cries.

"That's cacti." The Doctor corrects.

"That's racist!" Rossiter admonishes.

"I am sorry." Kathy apologises.

"Come on! We've got to get out." Addams warns as they struggle to free Kathy and the Doctor.

"There are too many buckles and straps," Rossiter tells her.

"Just wheel them."

"Really?!" Kathy grimaces at the thought of being pushed along like the Doctor had in the episode.

"No, no, no. Get me out. No, no, no, don't. Don't! No, no, no." The Doctor complains as they are pushed out of the room.

——

"Which way?" Rossiter asks as they make it into the corridors. He pushes the Doctor with Addams pushing Kathy upfront and Wilf bringing up the rear.

"This way." Addams instructs.

"No, no, no, no, no. The other way. I've got my TARDIS." The Doctor yells. Kathy just lies back and lets herself be pushed without complaint as there's not much she can do right now except take in what's happened in the past day.

"I know what I'm doing," Addams replies.

"No, no, no, just, just listen to me!"

"Not the stairs. Not the stairs!" The Doctor yells as they reach the stairs to the basement, but it's no use and Kathy experiences a very bumpy and uncomfortable ride down. "Worst rescue ever!"

They make it to the Vinvocci lair where they pause.

"Just, just stop and listen to me!"

The Master runs in with armed guards. "Gotcha."

"You think so?" Addams presses her wristwatch.

"No, no, no, no, don't!" The Doctor cries but they all get teleported anyway.

——

They appear in the teleportation room on the Vinvocci ship.

"Now get me out of this thing!" The Doctor immediately yells.

"Don't say thanks, will you." Addams snaps.

"Thank you. Now get us out please." Kathy tries to say more kindly though she knows they need to get a move on.

"He's not going to let us go. Just hurry up and get me out! Come on." The Doctor wines.

"All right!" Addams snaps.

"Oh, get a move on. Come on!"

"All right."

They finally get Kathy and the Doctor free. The latter leaps up and zaps the teleport controls with his sonic screwdriver. Kathy relaxes at that.

"Where's your flight deck?" Kathy demands.

"But we're safe. We're a hundred thousand miles above the Earth." Addams argues.

"And he's got every single missile on the planet ready to fire." The Doctor counters.

Addams grumbles. "...good point." Addams, Rossiter, Kathy and the Doctor run out. Kathy returns to gently lead Wilf away from the window.

"But we're in space!" Wilf gasps.

"I know buddy."

Wilf laughs gleefully.

——

They reach the flight deck and the Vinvocci begin working on the controls.

"We've got to close it down!" The Doctor declares.

"No chance, mate. We're going home." Rossiter replies.

"We're just a salvage team. Local politics has got nothing to do with us. Not unless there's a carnival. Sooner we get back to Vinvocci space the better." Addams adds.

"We're not leaving," Kathy says. She sonically sabotages the flight controls. The whole spaceship goes dark.

"Shush, shush, shush, shush, shush, shush." The Doctor murmurs as they stay quiet so as to not get picked up by the scans.

Addams looks out the window of the flight deck after a while and Kathy knows a sarcastic remark is coming, "No sign of any missiles. No sign of anything. You've wrecked the place!"

"The engines are burnt out. All we've got is auxiliary lights." Rossiter turns on some lights. "Everything else is kaput. We can't move. We're stuck in orbit."

"Thanks to you, you idiots!" Addams storms off.

"I know you, though. I bet you've got a plan, haven't you? Eh? Come on. You've always got a trick up your sleeve. Nice little bit of the old Doctor flim-flam," Wilf does Tommy Cooper impression, "sort of thing? Eh?" The Doctor looks at him solemnly. "Oh, blimey."

"Don't worry, Wilf," Kathy says. "We just have to wait."

——

It is just Kathy and the Doctor in the teleport room, fiddling with the wires, when, what looks to be a small meteorite, goes across space and towards the earth.

"Kathy?"

"Soon."

——

"Aye, aye. Got this old tub mended?" Wilf asks as he approaches them.

"Just trying to fix the heating." The Doctor answers.

"Oh." Wilf huffs as he sits next to them and gazes out the window. "I've always dreamt of a view like that. Hee, hee. I'm an astronaut. It's dawn over England, look." Wilf points and Kathy looks and takes it in. "Brand new day. My wife's buried down there. I might never visit her again now. Do you think he changed them, in their graves?"

Kathy doesn't want to tell him. "I'm sorry." She says.

"No, not either of you two's fault." Wilf denies.

"Isn't it?" The Doctor counters.

"Oh, 1948, I was over there. End of the Mandate in Palestine. Private Mott. Skinny little idiot, I was. Stood on this rooftop, in the middle of a skirmish. It was like a blizzard, all them bullets in the air. The world gone mad." Wilf contemplates. "Yeah, you don't want to listen to an old man's tales, do you?"

"We're older than you," Kathy tells him.

"Get away."

"I'm nine hundred and six." The Doctor tells him.

"I'm one thousand and thirty-two," Kathy says.

"What, really, though?" Wilf gapes.

"Yeah." Kathy chuckles.

"Nine hundred years and one thousand years. We must look like insects to you both." Wilf says.

"I think you look like giants." The Doctor argues.

"Listen, I-I want you to have this. I've kept it all this time, and I thought..." Wilf offers his revolver to the Doctor.

"No." The Doctor denies it.

"No, but if you take it, you could—"

"No."

"You had that gun in the mansion. You could have shot the Master there and then." Kathy points out.

"Too scared, I suppose," Wilf says.

"I'd be proud." The Doctor says instead.

"So would I," Kathy says. Honestly, she adored Wilf when watching the show but she adores him even more now that she's met him.

"Of what?"

"If you were our dad." The Doctor replies.

"Oh, come on, don't start." Wilf huffs, holding back tears. "But you said, you were told he will knock four times and then you die. Well, that's him, isn't it? The Master. That noise in his head? The Master is going to kill you."

"It's not him." Kathy corrects.

"Then who is it?" The Doctor asks intently.

"I can't tell you. Spoilers."

"Then kill whoever it is first." Wilf offers the gun again.

"And that's how the Master started." The Doctor says. "It's not like I'm an innocent. I've taken lives. I got worse. I got clever. Manipulated people into taking their own. Sometimes I think a Time Lord lives too long. I can't. I just can't." Kathy frowns at what he's saying.

"If the Master dies, what happens to all the people?" Wilf asks.

"I don't know."

"Doctor, Kathy, what happens?"

"The template snaps." Kathy answers.

"What, they go back to being human? They're alive, and human. Then don't you dare, sir. Don't you dare put him before them. Now you take this. That's an order, Doctor. Take the gun. You take the gun and he might not be the one who kills but someone will and this will save all the people. Please don't die. You're the most wonderful man and I don't want you to die." Wilf sobs, placing the Doctor's hand on the gun.

"Never."

"A star fell from the sky." The Master's voice startles them. "Don't you want to know where from? Because now it makes sense, Doctor, Katherine." Kathy puts her finger up to indicate to Wilf to be quiet.

"The whole of my life. My destiny." The Master continues. "The star was a diamond. And the diamond is a Whitepoint star." The Doctor gasps. "And I have worked all night to sanctify that gift. Now the star is mine. I can increase the signal and use it as a lifeline. Do you get it now? Do you see? Keep watching, Doctor, Katherine. This should be spectacular. Over and out."

"What's he on about? What's he doing? Doctor, what does that mean?" Wilf questions.

"A Whitepoint star is only found on one planet. Gallifrey. Which means it's the Time Lords. The Time Lords are returning." The Doctor answers, struggling to contain his emotions.

"Well, I mean, that's good, isn't it? I mean, that's your people." The Doctor takes Wilf's revolver and runs. Wilf turns to Kathy. "Isn't it?"

"There was a war, Wilf. No, it isn't. Not right now." She gets up and follows the Doctor.

——

Kathy runs into the flight deck. The signal can be heard here. Four beats. The Doctor is rushing around, working on bits and pieces. Kathy immediately runs to help.

"But you said your people were dead. Past tense." Wilf says.

"Inside the Time War. And the whole War was Timelocked." The Doctor explains. "Like, sealed inside a bubble. It's not a bubble but just think of a bubble. Nothing can get in or get out of the Timelock. Don't you see? Nothing can get in or get out, except something that was already there."

"The signal. Since he was a kid." Wilf realises.

"They can follow the signal; they can escape before they die," Kathy explains.

"Well, then, big reunion. We'll have a party."

"There will be no party." The Doctor retorts.

"But I've heard you talk about your people like they're wonderful," Wilf argues.

"That's how I choose to remember them, the Time Lords of old." The Doctor replies. "But then they went to war. An endless war, and it changed them right to the core. You've seen my enemies, Wilf. The Time Lords are more dangerous than any of them."

"Time Lords, what lords? Anyone want to explain?" Addams whines.

"Right, yes, you. This is a salvage ship, yes? You go trawling the asteroid fields for junk?" The Doctor rapidly asks.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"So, you've got asteroid lasers!"

"Yeah, but they're all frazzled." Rossiter points out.

The Doctor throws a lever and two gun alcoves open on either side of the flight controls. "Consider them unfrazzled. You there, what's your name?" He points at Addams. "I'm going to need you and Kathy on navigation." Then points to Rossiter. "And you, get in the laser-pod. Wilfred."

"Yeah?"

"Laser number two. The old soldier's got one more battle." The Doctor says. Wilf nods and pats him on the arm.

"This ship can't move. It's dead!" Addams snaps.

Kathy rolls her eyes and steps up to the machinery. "Fix the heating?" She throws two levers forward, and the ship powers up.

"But now they can see us," Addams exclaims.

"Oh, yes!" The Doctor cries joyfully.

"This is my ship, and you're not moving it. Step away from the wheel." Addams demands.

"There's an old Earth saying, Captain. A phrase of great power and wisdom, and consolation to the soul in times of need." The Doctor narrates.

Kathy sighs and puts her head in her hands. "Oh god."

"What's that, then?"

"Allons-y!" The Doctor powers the spaceship down towards the Earth. The spaceship dives through the atmosphere. "Come on! Come on!"

"You are blinking, flipping mad." Addams cries and gets to work.

"You two. What did I say? Lasers." The Doctor says to Rossiter and Wilf.

"What for?" Rossiter asks.

"Because of the missiles!" Kathy snaps. Sometimes she can't deal with stupidity. "We've got to fight off an entire planet that's aiming missiles at us!" Rossiter and Wilf run off to their station.

"We've got incoming," Addams warns.

"Look at this one! Oh, my God!" Rossiter exclaims from his pod.

"You two, open fire!" The Doctor skims the ocean, dodging the missiles.

"Oh, my word!" Rossiter exclaims.

"Whoa. Whoa!" Wilf yells.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Rossiter continues.

"Open fire! Come on, Wilf!" Kathy cries. She sees the moment Wilf shoots down a missile through the front wind.

"Whoo!" Wilf yells. "Oh, I wish Donna could see me now."

"And there's more. Sixteen of them. Oh, and another sixteen." Addams warns.

"Then we've got to get on the rear gun lasers!" Kathy yells.

"You two, open fire! Now!" The Doctor orders. Rossiter and Wilf continue destroying lasers while Addams and Kathy fall about, struggling to stand with how the Doctor is moving the ship.

"No, you don't!" The Doctor cries. The ship spins all the way round causing Kathy to scream as she struggles to hold on.

Suddenly the front window gets blown in. Addams and Kathy find a station.

"Lock the navigation!" The Doctor orders.

"Onto what?!" Addams asks.

Kathy starts doing what he says. "England. The Naismith mansion. Coming up."

"Destination?" The Doctor calls after a few minutes.

"Fifty kliks and closing. We've locked onto the house." Addams replies. "We are going to stop, though. Doctor? We are going to stop?" The Doctor doesn't reply.

"Doctor?!" Wilf calls as he stumbles in along with Rossiter. "Doctor, you said you were going to die."

"He said what?!" Addams exclaims in alarm.

"But is that all of us? I won't stop you, sir. But is this it?" Wilf questions but again there's no reply. Kathy knows the Doctor won't but she can't help but look at him in concern.

——

The spaceship is heading straight for the mansion before the Doctor pulls the spaceship's nose up at the last moment, then opens a hatch in the floor and, with the revolver ready, jumps down.

Kathy quickly stands and runs over to the hatch and jumps herself. She falls through the hole the Doctor had created in the glass dome and lands hard on the marble floor of the Gate room next to him. She struggles to stand and sees the Doctor struggling to do the same.

Kathy looks past him and sees five Time Lords have arrived - the Gate has been replaced by a white space, raised up by two steps. She slowly turns her head and sees the Master staring at her. She doesn't understand the look in his eyes.

"My Lord Doctor. My Lord Master and his lesser descendant. We are gathered for the end." Rassilon, Lord High President of Gallifrey, greets.

"You've got a bad superiority complex. Has anyone told you that?" Kathy grunts.

The Doctor drags himself onto his knees while Kathy is able to turn and plonk herself onto her behind instead to get a better view of everything.

"Listen to me. You can't!" The Doctor pleads.

"It is a fitting paradox that our salvation comes at the hands of our most infamous child," Rassilon says.

"Oh, he's not saving you. Don't you realise what he's doing?" The Doctor warns as he still leans his weight in his arms.

"Hey, no, hey! That's mine. Hush. Look around you. I've transplanted myself into every single human being. But who wants a mongrel little species like them, because now I can transplant myself into every single Time Lord. Oh, yes, Mister President, sir, standing there all noble and resplendent and decrepit. Think how much better you're going to look as me."

The Lord President holds up his metal gauntlet. It glows and everyone who looks like the Master goes through the head blur thing again.

"No, no, don't. No, no, stop it! No, no, no, don't!" The Master cries. Finally, everyone on Earth is restored to themselves.

"On your knees, mankind." The people obey looking terrified.

"No, that's fine, that's good because you said salvation. I still saved you. Don't forget that." The Master says desperately. There's the sound of rumpling.

"The approach begins," Rassilon says instead.

"Approach of what?"

"Something is returning." The Doctor explains through clenched teeth.

"Don't you ever listen?" Kathy snaps.

"That was the prophecy. Not someone, something."

"What is it?" The Master asks.

"They're not just bringing back the species. It's Gallifrey. Right here, right now."

Kathy sees the big burning planet appear in the sky. The tidal forces of the new planet make the Earth shake. The people run from the room. Kathy winces in pain the vibrations are causing.

"But I did this. I get the credit. I'm on your side." The Master says desperately.

Wilf pushes his way in. "Come on, get out of the way. Get out of the way! Doctor? Kathy?"

A technician is hammering on the door of his locked glass booth. "Help me, please. Somebody, please."

"All right! I've got you, mate. I've got you." Wilf goes into the open booth.

"Wilf, don't. Don't!" The Doctor tries.

Wilf unlocks the other booth. "I've got you. Come on. Go on." The freed technician runs.

"But this is fantastic, isn't it? The Time Lords restored." The Master tries.

"You weren't there in the final days of the War." The Doctor replies. "You never saw what was born. But if the Timelock's broken, then everything's coming through. Not just the Daleks, but the Skaro Degradations, the Horde of Travesties, the Nightmare Child, the Could-have-been King with his army of Meanwhiles and Never-weres. The War turned into hell. And that's what you've opened, right above the Earth. Hell is descending."

"My kind of world."

"Just listen! Because even the Time Lords can't survive that."

"We will initiate the Final Sanction. The end of time will come at my hand. The rupture will continue until it rips the Time Vortex apart." Rassilon confirms.

"That's suicide." The Master argues.

"We will ascend to become creatures of consciousness alone. Free of these bodies, free of time, and cause and effect, while creation itself ceases to be."

"You see now?" The Doctor says to the Master. "That's what they were planning in the final days of the War. I had to stop them."

"Then, take me with you, Lord President. Let me ascend into glory." The Master offers.

"You are diseased, albeit a disease of our own making. No more." Rassilon prepares his glove but the Doctor is on his feet, aiming the revolver at the Lord President. "Choose your enemy well. We are many. The Master is but one."

Kathy scrambles to her feet and stands at the side to watch.

"But he's the President. Kill him, and Gallifrey could be yours." The Master argues. The Doctor turns and aims at the Master. "He's to blame, not me. Oh, the link is inside my head. Kill me, the link gets broken, they go back. You never would, you coward. Go on then. Do it." The Doctor aims at the Lord President again. "Exactly. It's not just me, it's him. He's the link. Kill him!"

"The final act of your life is murder. But which one of us?" Rassilon goads.

"Doctor!" Kathy interrupts. "There's a third way. There's always a third way."

Behind the Lord President, the Woman lowers her hands. Kathy knows that this Woman had opposed Rassilon's plan to destroy time itself, along with the Patriarch of the House of Stillhaven. Rassilon condemned her and the patriarch to stand behind him in the Panopticon and cover their faces ‘as monuments of their shame, like the Weeping Angels of old’ and had her name erased from time as further punishment. The Doctor's gaze falls on the Woman. The Woman stares at the Doctor. But then, her eyes flicker just a fraction to the right. Meaning, behind the Doctor. Meaning the Master. And the Doctor pivots round, one last time, switches the gun to his other hand, now aiming it right at the Master.

"Get out of the way." The Master smirks, realising, and moves and the Doctor shoots the diamond in its gizmo. The link explodes and the Time Lords begin being sucked away. "The link is broken. Back into the Time War, Rassilon. Back into hell."

"You'll die with me, Doctor," Rassilon says.

"I know." Rassilon aims his gauntlet at the Doctor. The Woman covers her face again.

"Get out of the way." The Doctor steps back next to Kathy and the Master attacks the Lord President with his energy. "You did this to me! All of my life!" He hits them again. "You made me! One! Two! Three! Four!" He hits Rassilon with a new blast at every count. The president is forced to his knees. The Time Lords and the Master disappear in a bright light and Gallifrey fades away from the sky. The force of it all knocks Kathy and the Doctor down.

"I'm alive. I've. There was. I'm still alive." The Doctor gasps. Kathy sadly looks toward Wilf and watches as he knocks. Knock, knock, knock, knock. Kathy sees the Doctor's face fall. Knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock, knock.

"They gone, then? Yeah, good-o. If you could let me out?" Wilf asks.

"Yeah."

"Only, this thing seems to be making a bit of a noise."

"The Master left the Nuclear Bolt running. It's gone into overload." Kathy explains sadly. She gets up along with the Master.

"And that's bad, is it?"

"No, because all the excess radiation gets vented inside there." The Doctor explains. "Vinvocci glass contains it. All five hundred thousand rads, about to flood that thing."

"Oh. Well, you'd better let me out, then." Wilf says.

"Except it's gone critical. Touch one control and it floods. Even our sonics would set it off." Kathy explains.

"I'm sorry." Wilf apologises.

"Sure." The Doctor mutters. "There's no other way is there?"

"No," Kathy replies.

"Look, just leave me," Wilf tells them.

"Okay, right then, I will." Kathy can hear the emotion building up in his voice. "Because you had to go in there, didn't you? You had to go and get stuck, oh yes. Because that's who you are, Wilfred. You were always this. Waiting for me all this time."

"No really, just leave me. I'm an old man, Doctor. I've had my time."

"Well, exactly. Look at you. Not remotely important." The Doctor snaps. "But me? I could do so much more. So much more! But this is what I get. My reward. And it's not fair!" He screams and pushes off stuff on a table. "Oh. Oh. I've lived too long."

Kathy thinks about her own life, and how long she has lived. She'd probably have to use up her own regeneration energy like the Doctor had except she wouldn't have to change. This makes Kathy tempted to take his place but she worries she'll alter the Doctor's timeline too much if she stops this.

"No. No, no, please, please don't. No, don't! Please don't! Please!" Wilf cries tearfully as the Doctor slowly walks toward him.

The Doctor opens the other chamber door. "Wilfred, it's my honour. Better be quick. Three, two, one." The Doctor quickly goes into the open booth and unlocks Wilf's side. Wilf runs out and a red light floods the Doctor's booth. Kathy winces at the Doctor's pain. He curls up into a ball on the floor. Then the power shuts down.

"What?" Wilf mutters. After a few moments, the Doctor gets up. "Hello."

"Hi." The Doctor replies.

"Still with us?"

"The system's dead. I absorbed it all. Whole thing's kaput." The Doctor pushes at the door, it creaks open. "Oh. Now it opens, yeah." He comes out of the booth. Kathy watches him sadly. She knows she'll see this face again but that doesn't stop seeing the end of this one hurt any less.

"Well, there we are, then. Safe and sound. Mind you, you're in hell of a state. You've got some battle scars there." Wolf says. Kathy looks at her own scrapes and knows they'll take a bit longer. The Doctor rubs his face and the cuts vanish. "But they've- your face. How did you do that?"

"It's started," Kathy says as the Doctor gazes at his now unmarked hands. Wilf hugs the Doctor.

——

They arrive outside the Noble home again and Kathy sees a happy Sylvia at the front door, beaming as they step out of the TARDIS. Wilf gives her a wave, which she returns.

"Oh, she's smiling. As if today wasn't bad enough." The Doctor grumbles causing Wilf and Kathy to chuckle. "Anyway, don't go thinking this is goodbye, Wilf. I'll see you again, one more time."

"You know you'll see me again. All that stuff we've got to do." Kathy says.

Wilf nods. "Yeah. But what do you mean Doctor? When's that?"

"Just keep looking. I'll be there." The Doctor replies.

"Where are you going?"

"To get my reward."

——

Kathy watches at an abandoned factory as Mickey and Martha, two people that she hasn't had the chance to meet yet, have their backs to a Sontaran, who has a clear shot. The Doctor hits him on the probic vent with a hammer, knocking him down. Kathy stands by him as they look down at the two.

She sees when they notice them. Mickey steps forward and yells, "Hey!"

Kathy and the Doctor look at them before walking away.

——

Next stop is Bannerman Road. A young Luke Smith is on the phone and crosses the road without looking, and the Doctor drags him away from being run down. Kathy gives him a stern look.

"But it's you two! You're..."

"You need to look when crossing the road, Luke." Kathy admonishes him. Then she and the Doctor walk back to the TARDIS.

"Mum! Mum!" She hears Luke yell.

The Doctor and Kathy look back as they stand at the TARDIS doors and wave goodbye to Luke and Sarah Jane.

——

At a downtown drinking hole in Zaggit Zagoo, capital of Zog, Kathy’s eyes look past the Slitheen, Graske, Judoon, Hath, Judoon and a little Adipose and land on another companion she hasn’t met yet, Captain Jack Harkness as he drinks alone.

The barman puts a piece of paper in front of Jack. Jack looks at the Doctor and Kathy, puzzled. The Doctor nods to the note and Kathy smiles and waves. Jack smiles, a little, but stays where he is. He looks at the note and then salutes them before turning to Alonso, the man from the Titanic replica.

——

Kathy lets the Doctor go into the bookshop on his own to meet and talk with Joan Redfern's great-granddaughter Verity Newman. Kathy didn't feel right intruding but also, it's not something she has a personal connection to.

——

The bells are ringing for the end of a wedding ceremony. Donna yells gleefully as shows her ring. The wedding guests are throwing rice and taking pictures. The Doctor and Kathy watch in front of the TARDIS just outside the lych gate. Sylvia turns and spots them, getting her father's attention before they walk over.

"And here you are, eh? Same old face. Didn't I tell you you'd be alright?" Wilf greets. "Oh! They've arrested Mister Naismith. It was on the news. Crimes undisclosed. And his daughter. Both of them, locked up. But I keep thinking, Doctor, there's one thing you never told me. That woman. Who was she?"

The Doctor glances toward Donna before reaching into his pocket. "I just wanted to give you this. Wedding present. Thing is, I never carry money."

"And I don't have any modern day money so we popped back in time, borrowed a quid off a really lovely man. Geoffrey Noble, his name was." Kathy says with a smile. Sylvia gasps and covers her mouth with her hand.

"Have it, he said. Have that on me." The Doctor says. Sylvia is nearly in tears; her father puts his arm around her.

Donna frowns at the envelope she's handed but shrugs and tucks it into the top of her dress. Wilf salutes the Doctor and Kathy before they leave.

——

The Doctor and Kathy stand in the shadows of an alleyway on the snowy Powell estate. It's been so long since she's seen Rose and it'll be odd not to talk to her. Kathy casts the Doctor a worried look in the dim light as she has her arm wrapped around his waist in an attempt to help support him as he leans most of his weight against the side of a wall.

"Doctor?"

He grimaces as he inhales sharply. "Just need a minute." He mutters, trying to hold back the pain that is spreading throughout his entire body, growing stronger and harder to control. "I've managed to say goodbye to almost everyone..."

She sighs heavily, hating to see him in so much pain, but nods.

A familiar voice cuts in, "I'm late now, I've missed it." Kathy can hear Rose's and another set of footsteps approaching, sounding annoyed. "It's midnight. Mickey's going to be calling me everything, this is all your fault."

"No, it's not!" Jackie Tyler argues. "It's Jimbo. He said he was going to give us a lift, then he said his axle broke. I can't help it."

"Get rid of him, Mum. He's useless!"

"Listen to you, with a mechanic!" Her voice turns sad. "Be fair, though. In my time of life, I'm not going to do much better."

"Don't be like that." Rose sighs as they come to a stop just before the alleyway, giving the Doctor and Kathy a chance to see them as she rubs her mother's shoulder. "You never know, there could be someone out there."

Jackie shrugs. "Maybe... one day." She tries to sound hopeful, her face brightening. "Happy New Year!" She smiles broadly.

"Happy New Year!" Rose grins, hugging her. "Don't stay out all night!" She tells her as they pull apart.

"Try and stop me!" Jackie shoots her a look as she walks away.

Rose crosses her arms across her chest, trying to keep warm as she begins walking over towards her flat stairwell as Kathy lets go of the Doctor and steps further back into the shadows, knowing that it is important for the Doctor to say goodbye to Rose by himself, but as he steps forwards, he groans in pain, slipping slightly down the wall.

Rose turns around, looking surprised. "You all right, mate?" She asks, sounding concerned.

The Doctor quickly straightens, "Yeah."

"Too much to drink?"

"Something like that."

She eyes him. "Maybe it's time you go home." She suggests.

"Yeah..." He agrees.

"Anyway... happy New Year!" She tells him cheerfully.

"And you!" He grins as she turns, heading towards the stairwell again, "What year is it?" The Doctor calls after her.

Rose turns back to look at him, her eyes widening, "Blimey, how much have you had?" She laughs and he shrugs slightly. "2005, January the first." She informs him in a clear, slow voice.

"2005." The Doctor repeats, nodding. "Tell you what... I bet you're going to have a great year." He smiles at her.

"Yeah?" She raises her eyebrows, looking amused. "See ya!" Rose shoots him a grin and runs over to the stairwell, opening the door, and looking back at him over her shoulder, before stepping through and hurrying up the stairs.

The moment she is out of sight, Kathy runs forward and wraps her arm around the Doctor, just as he grunts painfully, leaning heavily against her as he places a hand on the wall, "Shh, it's okay." She breathes soothingly to him. "We can do this. Come on, let's get you to the TARDIS."

He is breathing heavily as they half stagger out of the alley, one hand on the wall for extra support, but soon enough the Doctor is forced to let go and lean on Kathy as they struggle across to the other side of the complex to where they had parked the TARDIS. He winces in pain, grimacing as Kathy continues muttering soothing words to him, just trying to keep him going, when his knees suddenly give out and he collapses onto the snow covered ground with a loud cry, taking her down with him.

Kathy, ignoring the pain that the fall had caused to her own body, immediately pulls herself upright, her eyes fixed on the Doctor as he groans in pain. "Just a little bit further." She murmurs to him, her voice breaking slightly as she felt tears burning the corners of her eyes. "Just a few more steps..." She trails off as she looks up to see Ood Sigma standing a short distance away.

The Ood raises his communication orb and it lights up. "We will sing to you, Doctor." He tells them, his voice calm as the Doctor lifts his head to look at him. "The Universe will sing you to your sleep."

The Doctor takes a deep breath and forces himself back to his feet, leaning against Kathy again as they stagger determinedly over to the TARDIS as the sound of the Ood singing sound in their heads.

"This story is ending, but the story never ends," Sigma says as they reach the doors.

Kathy snaps her fingers and the doors swing open and they step inside. She helps him up the ramp, pulling his coat off as he tosses it over the Y-beam, before glancing down at his right hand and it glows with golden, yellow regeneration energy. He swallows and looks up at Kathy, who tries to give him a comforting smile.

"Everything is going to be okay, Doctor." She assures him gently. "I'll be right here the entire time, you won't be alone for a second, understand?"

He closes his eyes tightly before opening them, his voice trembling, "I'm... I'm afraid."

"Oh, Doctor. Don't worry your next self isn't too weird." Kathy reassures causing him to laugh wetly. The Doctor steps over to the controls. She watches as he hits a lever, sending them off into space.

He stares at the Time Rotor, watching as it goes up and down before moving back around the console, coming to stand in front of Kathy, his eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to go." He whispers to her, sounding heartbroken.

She swallows a sob, almost shaking as badly as he is. "I'll be right here." She forces her voice to sound strong as she tries to smile through the tears. "I will see you on the other side."

The regeneration energy begins swirling around his face, growing brighter and brighter as Kathy takes a step back, preparing herself, knowing that because of how long he put it off and watching the episode, it is going to be violent. He takes deep breaths and looks down at his right hand and then to the other to see that they are both glowing. He looks back at her when he suddenly throws his head back, and the energy pours out of him.

The energy shoots out so violently that it explodes the windows on the doors and causes the console to spark violently, fires shoot up everywhere as Kathy jumps back, covering her head with her arms as debris begins raining down, and the beams all around the room begin collapsing, one just missing her as she throws herself to the floor.

She winces as she can hear the Doctor shouting in pain when his voice suddenly changes, and the regeneration cuts off. She quickly lifts her head to find herself looking at the Doctor... well, the new him. Eleven.

"Legs!" The Doctor cheers almost at once as he looks down at himself, examining his new body. "I've still got legs!" He grabs his leg and kisses his knee. "Good!" He drops his leg and begins patting his chest. "Arms!" He quickly finds his hands, holding them close to his face. "Hands! Ooh, fingers!" He wiggles them excitedly, "Lots of fingers!" He moves up to his face, checking the side of his head. "Ears, yes!" He presses his fingers to his eyes. "Eyes, two!" Down to his nose. "Nose..." He seems to frown slightly at its size. "...I've had worse. Chin..." He feels his chin, his eyes widening slightly. "Blimey!"

Kathy pulls herself to her feet, brushing dust from down her front as she steps in front of him, grinning up at him as he immediately focuses on her. "Yeah, it's huge."

"Kathy!" He cries joyfully and grabs her, pulling her into a tight hug before jolting back. "No, no, no." He shakes his head quickly. "More important things first. Am I ginger?"

Kathy laughs slightly and ruffles his dark hair. "Nope." She replies and his face falls.

The Doctor frowns slowly as he begins shifting around the spot. "There's something else, something important, we're, we're, we're..." He begins tapping the side of his head when something bangs loudly, jolting them as he automatically grabs the console like Kathy does.

"Crashing!" Kathy groans loudly, grimacing as she takes in the mess the controls are in.

The Doctor, on the other hand, grins and runs around the other side, looking across to her as they plummet towards the Earth. "Ha, ha! Whoo hoo hoo! Ah! Geronimo!"

——

A/N: I recently realised that Kathy shares the same first name as Sally Sparrow's friend (*spoiler* the one who gets sent back in time) in Blink 😅

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[shinjihi]

Inside China's audacious global propaganda campaign

https://www.theguardian.com/news/2018/dec/07/china-plan-for-global-media-dominance-propaganda-xi-jinping

Beijing is buying up media outlets and training scores of foreign journalists to ‘tell China’s story well’ – as part of a worldwide propaganda campaign of astonishing scope and ambition.

by Louisa Lim and Julia Bergin

Fri 7 Dec 2018 06.00 GMT

As they sifted through resumes, the team recruiting for the new London hub of China’s state-run broadcaster had an enviable problem: far, far too many candidates. Almost 6,000 people were applying for just 90 jobs “reporting the news from a Chinese perspective”. Even the simple task of reading through the heap of applications would take almost two months.

For western journalists, demoralised by endless budget cuts, China Global Television Network presents an enticing prospect, offering competitive salaries to work in state-of-the-art purpose-built studios in Chiswick, west London. CGTN – as the international arm of China Central Television (CCTV) was rebranded in 2016 – is the most high-profile component of China’s rapid media expansion across the world, whose goal, in the words of President Xi Jinping, is to “tell China’s story well”. In practice, telling China’s story well looks a lot like serving the ideological aims of the state.

For decades, Beijing’s approach to shaping its image has been defensive, reactive and largely aimed at a domestic audience. The most visible manifestation of these efforts was the literal disappearance of content inside China: foreign magazines with pages ripped out, or the BBC news flickering to black when it aired stories on sensitive issues such as Tibet, Taiwan or the Tiananmen killings of 1989. Beijing’s crude tools were domestic censorship, official complaints to news organisations’ headquarters and expelling correspondents from China.

China Media junks wi fi broadcast

But over the past decade or so, China has rolled out a more sophisticated and assertive strategy, which is increasingly aimed at international audiences. China is trying to reshape the global information environment with massive infusions of money – funding paid-for advertorials, sponsored journalistic coverage and heavily massaged positive messages from boosters. While within China the press is increasingly tightly controlled, abroad Beijing has sought to exploit the vulnerabilities of the free press to its advantage.

In its simplest form, this involves paying for Chinese propaganda supplements to appear in dozens of respected international publications such as the Washington Post. The strategy can also take more insidious forms, such as planting content from the state-run radio station, China Radio International (CRI), on to the airwaves of ostensibly independent broadcasters across the world, from Australia to Turkey.

Meanwhile, in the US, lobbyists paid by Chinese-backed institutions are cultivating vocal supporters known as “third-party spokespeople” to deliver Beijing’s message, and working to sway popular perceptions of Chinese rule in Tibet. China is also wooing journalists from around the world with all-expenses-paid tours and, perhaps most ambitiously of all, free graduate degrees in communication, training scores of foreign reporters each year to “tell China’s story well”.

Since 2003, when revisions were made to an official document outlining the political goals of the People’s Liberation Army, so-called “media warfare” has been an explicit part of Beijing’s military strategy. The aim is to influence public opinion overseas in order to nudge foreign governments into making policies favourable towards China’s Communist party. “Their view of national security involves pre-emption in the world of ideas,” says former CIA analyst Peter Mattis, who is now a fellow in the China programme at the Jamestown Foundation, a security-focused Washington thinktank. “The whole point of pushing that kind of propaganda out is to preclude or preempt decisions that would go against the People’s Republic of China.”

Sometimes this involves traditional censorship: intimidating those with dissenting opinions, cracking down on platforms that might carry them, or simply acquiring those outlets. Beijing has also been patiently increasing its control over the global digital infrastructure through private Chinese companies, which are dominating the switchover from analogue to digital television in parts of Africa, launching television satellites and building networks of fibre-optic cables and data centres – a “digital silk road” – to carry information around the world. In this way, Beijing is increasing its grip, not only over news producers and the means of production of the news, but also over the means of transmission.

Though Beijing’s propaganda offensive is often shrugged off as clumsy and downright dull, our five-month investigation underlines the granular nature and ambitious scale of its aggressive drive to redraw the global information order. This is not just a battle for clicks. It is above all an ideological and political struggle, with China determined to increase its “discourse power” to combat what it sees as decades of unchallenged western media imperialism.

At the same time, Beijing is also seeking to shift the global centre of gravity eastwards, propagating the idea of a new world order with a resurgent China at its centre. Of course, influence campaigns are nothing new; the US and the UK, among others, have aggressively courted journalists, offering enticements such as freebie trips and privileged access to senior officials. But unlike those countries, China’s Communist party does not accept a plurality of views. Instead, for China’s leaders, who regard the press as the “eyes, ears, tongue and throat” of the Communist party, the idea of journalism depends upon a narrative discipline that precludes all but the party-approved version of events. For China, the media has become both the battlefield on which this “global information war” is being waged, and the weapon of attack.

[lindahall]

Scientis of the Day-Silvanus P. Thompson

Silvanus Phillips Thompson, an English physicist, was born June 19, 1851.

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