#is her last name O'Brien or sinclair???

[oreo102]

Ok I have like 10 minutes before my break is over so pride day 12.5 (day 13 will be after I get off)

Pride headcanons!!

Yaz: cis lesbian but WILL fight a transphobe

13: either demigirl or trans woman or both lesbian

Ryan: cis, Omni with a preference for guys

Graham: cis, bisexual, lowkey has a crush on both Jack and Ace

Dan: idk but he gives gender fuckery, pansexual

Spymaster: trans man, bisexual, lowkey has a crush on yaz

Grace: gives nice old trans woman vibes, bisexual with a preference for girls

Sonia: non-binary, straight

I think that’s all of them but if you wanna know a character I didn’t list, ask!

[doctorwhonerdadi3]

Ranking New Who Companions

What classes as a companion in Doctor Who is a difficult one for me to answer. On one hand I would say it's someone who travels with the Doctor, but then we'd be here all day listing out everyone that has been in the Tardis. So I have decided to limit it only to the characters who are the named companions for each Doctor. Simple right? Choosing who I liked more over each companion was a difficult one. As always this is just opinion based and honestly, my opinions for each of these companions changes regularly. That being said, I have made an attempt at ranking them.

Number 12: Ryan Sinclair

Ryan is, for me, probably the most forgettable of Whittaker's companions. It doesn't mean he is bad, I just don't enjoy him as much as the others. I've seen Whittaker's run a couple of times and I barely remember anything about Ryan other than he had Dyspraxia and sucked his thumb.

Number 11: Rose Tyler

Okay, I think Rose being so low down is controversial, but honestly... I don't like her. She is 19 when we meet her and very clearly a product of the 90s/2000s. She spends most of her time as a love struck teenager, who is constantly jealous of any woman who gets near the Doctor. It's strange because series 1 and Eccleston are my favourite of New who. Her 'lovestruck' phase really shines in Tennants first series. Either way, she is my number 11.

Number 10: Clara Oswald

I enjoyed Clara when she showed up as a Dalek in Asylum of the Daleks. I enjoyed Clara when she was in The Snowmen. But then it kind of stopped. Her run with Smith just didn't do it for me. She did better with Capaldi but I think that is mostly down to him actually letting her have a life as a teacher, go on dates, etc. It gave her chance to really shine.

Number 9: Graham O'Brien

I just had to google Graham's last name, that is how much I don't really like him. Dealing with bereavement is difficult, and being the oldest of your group is also a challenge. I think 'Rosa' was when Graham really shined. Idolizing her and then having to be the reason that she didn't give up her seat on the bus... Graham was actually a well rounded character in a series of none rounded characters.

Number 8: Yazmin Khan

Yaz had the longest run with Whittaker, probably down to her crush. She proved herself to be a smart woman, who could handle herself. When we first met her, she was training to be a police woman, which shows that she has the strength and courage to succeed. I enjoyed her as a companion.

Number 7: Donna Nobel

Okay, time to be controversial again. I love Donna, as I am sure everyone else does, but she isn't my favourite. She was heart warming and smart, plus she had a bit of a temper and slapped the Doctor. What more do you want from a companion? She truely was a mate of the Doctor, and after the 60th anniversary specials- she got the ending she deserved.

Number 6: Dan Lewis

What? I'm putting Dan above Donna, have I gone crazy? Probably. John Bishop cannot act. However... I really liked his character. She was chill. He had a wok. He was kind of resourceful. The only thing I didn't really like was how he outed Yaz to the Doctor.

Number 5: Martha Jones

I love Martha. I think she is truely underrated as a companion. She often gets overshined by Rose, which is annoying. Take away the ending where she married Mickey, I didn't like that, and you have an amazing character. Smart, resourceful, brave. Everything you need to be the Doctor's companion. This woman walked the Earth for the Doctor. She should have married Tom though.

Number 4: Ruby Sunday

Our new new who companion. I think part of the reason that series 15/Season 1 did so well was because of Millie Gibson's performance. She started out a little rocky, but she soon grew into a companion I loved. Her performance in Boom and 73 Yards really solidified her as a great companion in my opinion.

Number 3: Amy Pond

The girl who waited. Amy's run as a companion was beautiful. She had her boys and her spaceship and she was off. She did start out a bit shakey, trying to sleep with the Doctor the night before her wedding, but if you look at it from her character arc it makes sense.

Number 2: Bill Potts

Bill's death was heart breaking and was 100% the Doctor's fault. Shot through the chest and then turned into a Cyberman. Ouch. She was a fun companion and she brought a ray of sunshine to a rather dark Doctor who had just lost his previous companion. Also I love the Cybermen design for when she got turned into one. It was very classic who.

Number 1: Rory Williams

And finally we have Rory the Roman. Well deserving of the first spot. He waited 2000 years for Amy in the Pandorica. He loved her unconditionally from childhood. He was a nurse. This man was brave and strong all at once. I was heart broken when he got erased from time and Amy forgot him. Luckily he came back... Until he died again.

[companion-showdown]

Showdown 2k24 Nominations!

alright, redoing this post now that I can give a concrete start date of Monday the 15th of January!

Nominations for the tournament are open up until the start date, and you can submit anyone who could reasonable be considered a companion, either by sending me an ask or by filling out

this form.

If you make your nomination via the form you can also submit some propaganda to go alongside the poll. Anyone who was considered a regular at any point in the last year will automatically be included, as well as anyone who was in the original tournament (+/- a couple I might miss or misremember as being a regular because I don't have old lists anywhere). The exception to this is last years winner, Rose Tyler, she will not be getting a place in the main tournament, however after the final I will run a poll to see if our new winner can beat her. (oh and also maybe I'll leave the TARDIS out but not fully decided yet)

The tournament is going to be run in the same way I did @adventure-showdown, meaning I'll keep companions from different periods of the show and different mediums segregated at first so the nicher ones don't immediately get knocked out, and slowly get mingled together. The exact details are going to depend on just how may characters get included.

Errm yeah, so go wild, nominate whoever you like (as long as they are a companion). If they are from teh TV show they have to be on this list to qualify, and for EU companions I'm going with them needing a TARDIS wiki page, and also I will give them a quick proof read to make sure they pass, the bar is low but it is there

if you want to submit an alternate version of the character sorry but main version only unless you can give a really good reason, eg regenerations of a time lord

also, if they are primarily from another franchise that'll be a no

The full list of contestents is under the cut and will be updated as nominations come in. Its sorted by medium and then to be alphabetical by first name. if an eu companion exists in multiple mediums i just sort of picked one or I put them under the other category, people who exist in real life are also sorted into their own category. There are some characters under Classic Who/NuWho who were not companions on TV but were in the EU. Companions who's names are in green have had propaganda submitted for them, if they're not in green then they don't, and just because someone has propaganda doesn't mean i wont accept more

Classic Who

Ace McShane

Adric

Barbara Wright

Ben Jackson

The Brigadier

Chang Lee

Dodo Chaplet

Grace Holloway

Harry Sullivan

Ian Chesterton

Jamie McCrimmon

Jo Grant

K9

Kamelion

Katarina

Leela

Liz Shaw

Mags

Mel Bush

Mike Yates

Nyssa

Peri Brown

Polly Wright

Romana I

Romana II

Sabalom Glitz

Sara Kingdom

Sarah-Jane Smith

Sergeant Benton

Steven Taylor

Susan Foreman

Tegan Jovanka

Turlough

Vicki Pallister

Victoria Waterfield

Zoe Heriot

NuWho

Adam Mitchell

Amy Pond

Bill Potts

Canton Everett Delaware III

Clara Oswald

Dan Lewis

Donna Noble

Graham O'Brien

Grant Gordon aka the Ghost

Handles

Inston-Vee Vindor

Jack Harkness

Karvanista

Kate Stewart

Martha Jones

Mickey Smith

Missy

Nardole

River Song

Rory Williams

Rose Noble

Ruby Sunday

Ryan Sinclair

Wilfred Mott

Yasmin Khan

Audio

Alex Campbell

Anya Kingdom

Bliss

C'rizz

Cass Fermazzi

Charley Pollard

Cousin Eliza: Christine Summerfield: Horus

Dalek Test Subject 2

Erimem

Evelyn Smythe

Helen Sinclair

Hex Schofield

Iris Wildthyme

Liv Chenka

Lucie Miller

Mark Seven

Molly O'Sullivan

Narvin

Oliver Harper

Sheena (The Starship of Theseus)

Tania Bell

Novels

Anji Kapoor

Anna (Good Companions)

Badger

Barusa

Bernice Summerfield

Business woman (Time on a Vine)

Catherine “Cat” Broome

Chris Cwej - have propaganda but in conjunction with another contestant

Cinder

Claudia Marwood

Compassion

Dorothy (The Wonderful Doctor of Oz)

Fitz Kreiner

Guinevere Winchester

Hector (All Flesh is Grass)

Homunculette

Ikalla

Irving Braxiatel

Jack McSpringheel

Larna

Marie (Alien Bodies)

Milena

Patience

Penelope Gate

Peter Summerfield

Rosie Taylor

Roz Forrester - have propaganda but in conjunction with another contestant

Ruth Leonidas

Sam Jones

Serena

Sibling Different aka Mae

The Mortimer Family (Ida, Alan, Helen, George)

Trix MacMillan

V.M.McCrimmion

Wolsey the Cat

Zeleekhà

Comics

Abslom Daak, Dalek Killer

Angus ‘Gus’ Goodman

ARC

Chantir

Child Master (The Then and the Now)

Cindy Wu

Dave Lester

Destrii

Duh

Flanx

Fey Truscott-Sade

Frobisher

Gabby Gonzalez

Gillian & John Who

Grayla

Hattie Munroe

Izzy Sinclair

Jayne Kadett

John Jones

Josie Day

Kroton

Ly Chee the Wise

Majenta Pryce

Maxwell Edison

Olla

Rose-the-cat

Shayde

Ssard

The Squire

Weeping Angel (Origins)

Real Life

Alan Turing

Claudia Winkleman

John Lennon

Jules Verne

Mary Shelley

Peter Cushing

Other

Alison Cheney

Andy Davidson

Antimony (Death Comes to Time)

Brian the Ood

Dormouse (The Red and the Blue)

Emma (curse of fatal death)

Koschie

Romana (Battle for the Universe)

Splinx

Susan Who

Tom Campbell

[magicalyaku]

Happy new year! After the slump of the previous months and my last artist alley of the year, I finally had a lot to read in December! I bought so many books in November, I had to get at least through a few in order to include them in my yearly awards. xD Work was still shit but reading was fun again. :D

Dark Heir (Dark Rise 2) (C.S. Pacat): This was my last book of 2023 and easily my most anticipated. And did it deliver! Left me emotionally devastated for days! xD Seriously, I don't want to know what my neighbors thought what was going on, in case they heard me going "Aaah! No! No no no nooooo! Kya! NOOOO!!" during two certain scenes. /D The nice thing about this series is that I have absolute faith in Pacat's ability to write it well und give me an outcome I am satisfied with. I mean, go look at Captive Prince. The way the relationship between Damen and Laurent develops (even after MAJOR shit going on between them!), the political threads and all that, it's just done very well. And now, here's the Dark Rise series and I sit and watch the spiral of doom the characters are caught up in it and apart from maybe Sinclair not a single one of them is fully good or bad. And it's sooo interesting (and emotionally devastating)!! Hng!! I would actually like to write much more about what I loved and suffered through, like the whole thing with the Visander situation and how Sarcean made all of his worst enemies because he just couldn't keep it in his pants. And James. James. And Cyprian! And everything. But I can't because whenever I try I still feel the excited giggles in my brain and can't have a coherent thought. It's great, but also ... Hnggg!!

The First and Last Adventure of Kit Sawyer (S.E. Harmon): This was fun! At some point early on I looked up what other books the author has written and it's more than ten and I thought "Yes! It feels like being written by someone with a lot of writing experience!" There's just something about the liveliness of the characters and the dialogues. Also so much adventure with a slightly different flavor than usual being set in the jungle and all, I loved it.

By any other Name (Erin Cotter): I wonder why all of my historical fiction books are set in England. This is another highly adventurous story. I was a bit surprised as one thing that's mentioned in the summary already only appears like after half the book. But other than that it was pretty good. It has spies and theatre and pretty nice characters. And I did not anticipate everything that happened which is good!

Wren Martin Ruins it all (Amanda deWitt): The author's previous book Aces Wild: A Heist was one of my top books in 2022, this one does not quite reach those heights but it was still very good and very enjoyable. Wren is such a messy and fun character. As reader I absolutely knew what was going on and who was writing with whom but it was nice to follow the characters' path to awareness. In a way Wren's aceness is not as heavy as in other books (see the next one for instance) but at the same time it deals with a few of the social issues a_spec people are faced with which was nice.

Just Lizzie (Karen Wilfrid): This is a middle grade book about a girl coming to terms with being ace. The heroine has a really nice character arc. And the other characters are sometimes what you expect them to be and sometimes they are not. And maybe … that's ok, right? And I loved it and I cried through half of the book. I guess, it hit home a little more heavily than I expected. :'D (Like that one time where Lizzie is wondering how she will spent Christmas when her parents aren't around anymore? Haaa. It had just been Christmas when I read this and I'm in my 30ies and my Dad is above 70 now so that is a concern I actually have, you know. It's not nice to be reminded. :'D) It's a really good book, I think, thoughtful and well put together and empowering, too.

A Hundred Vicious Turns (The Broken Tower 1) (Lee Page O'brien): Now this was difficult. The cover is gorgeous. Easily my favorite one this year. I only lament that there's no real gold printed. The wasted opportunity. yAy The content is … difficult. I like the story on a whole. The premise and the magic system are really interesting. The characters … were interesting as well? They're fine, their motivations are not easily seen which, in a plot full of mysteries, is actually quite okay. I just didn't build the emotional connection. There's also a lot of anxiety, especially on Rat's part. There was one bit in the writing style that irked me a little. The overuse of pronouns. Because Rat was the only one with 'they' and in most scenes it was only one other person with them, so there often really long stretches where only the pronouns would be used instead of the names. It wa snot confusing because you could easily tell the characters apart, but it felt weird. I'm very used to reading the names a lot. Oh well. It's not a fun read, but it is intruiging and I will read the next volume to see where it goes.

A Magic Steeped in Poison (The Book of Tea 1) (Judy I. Lin): I managed to squeeze in a YA heroine inbetween all the gay boys! And I liked it better than most other female-led YA fantasies I read recently. Doesn't mean I loved it, but Ning was pretty okay as a heroine. The thing is, the circumstances under which I started this book weren't the best and that probabbly reflected on the whole experience. I picked up the German audiobook for a very long bus trip, but listened to it only later while doing some hours of very boring tedious work. The audiobook itself was okay, except that the reader could not decide how to pronounce some names. For instance, Kang was Kong first, then Kuang before she settled on Kang. And that kind of thing drives me mad. How am I to connect with a character when I am left this uncertain how their name is?! The German translation also decided to leave some of the names in English (especially the teas) which in my opinion doesn't make sense because why would the teas in Fantasy-China have English names when everything else is either translated into German or left Chinese? D: I couldn't stand it and finally switched to my printed edition (in English). /D It got better from there, but it's hard to forget the echo. As for the story, I don't really like court intrigues. Cruelty and injustice are just things I really struggle with to read about. (They make me angry and I don't want to be angry at my books.) But it never tipped over the edge into annoying area. I have the sequel at home as well, so I'll it. The covers are beautiful after all.

That was 2023! Next up is my big Best and Worst award ceremony! uAu~

[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

[kismetharborconnections]

COURTNEY BLAKE IS LOOKING FOR HER OLDER SIBLINGS (0/2)!

OOC: Rebecca

Character: Courtney Blake (née Thomas)

Type of Connection: older siblings (2)

WC Name: UTP Thomas (unless married) (Last name can be changed)

Age Range: 32-38

FC Options: Aaron Tyler Johnson, Dylan O'Brien, Emilia Clarke, Annie Murphy, Anna Kendrick, Jonathan Groff, Giacomo Gianniotti, Nikki Reed, UTP 

Would you like to be contacted?: Yes please

Triggers: none

Connection Description: Courtney comes from a large family, being 1 of 6 children. Her parents live back home in NC (next to the Blake household). Looking for at least one of her older siblings. They’re from a close knit family and also cousins the Connor Bowen and Nora Sinclair (Emily Bown is their mother’s sister). Though they’re from a close knit family, this sibling and Courtney could either be close or not! 

[missywhomst]

Just One?

In her post regeneration haze, the Doctor discovers earrings (Thasmin if you squint). 

(This is kind of an experimental fic to see if I wanna do a series about 13′s post regeneration antics. Not sure how I feel about it, but I hope you all like it!)

- gif by @queerthasmin​ - 

Time seemed to be moving in leaps and bounds, and she was surprisingly disoriented by it which was funny, really, considering how accustomed she was to hopping around the space-time continuum like it was her own personal playset. And so she laughed, almost a scoff, a bit dizzy at the scenery change as she found herself being guided by Yaz down the hallway to a bedroom.

“What’re we up to now? Lost is my head, there,” she said, turning to look at her new friend. She’d found that she garnered much less concern if she pretended she wasn’t missing chunks of time from the last, well, if she had to guess about six hours. Maybe less. She was fairly certain it was still the same day.

Thankfully, or perhaps not, she discovered that she was able to carry on full conversations while blacked out. There had been a point when she was still on the train being fawned over by someone named Grace and another someone named Graham, telling them that she was fine, she was fine, and she just needed to walk it off. Grace insisted she wait for the police, that a PC Khan was nearby and that she just wanted to have a talk. She distinctly remembered saying great, that she’d love a talk, that she really liked talking, and that she’d gotten a new tongue so she needed to break it in. Then the next second she was stumbling after a firefly in the tall grass of a field, the train stopped behind her and Graham running after her yelling oi, where do you think you’re going, and you just fell through a train, love, and come on, now, have a seat.

Graham and Grace and Ryan, who was friends with Yaz, or wasn’t friends, or used to be friends, took her back to their place for a cuppa because she wouldn’t let them take her to A&E. And though she claimed she only tagged along so she could ask a few more questions and file a proper report, she was fairly certain Yaz was just curious about the person who fell from the sky. Some other things happened that she mostly remembered, and now they were in a bedroom, and Yaz was setting down a duffel bag on a bed. Then she put a hand on her back and led her to a chair, pushing down on her shoulders to make her sit.

“I brought some clothes from my flat. Figured they might fit you. I’m sure you’ll appreciate being out of those ones,” Yaz chuckled, walking back to the bed to unzip the bag. She looked down at her arms. Her jacket was torn and burned and about four sizes too big, the ripped cuffs flopping over her knuckles. Her whole outfit was in tatters, really, and she’d been tripping over her trouser legs for what felt like ages now.

“He liked this outfit. Bit of a magician’s coat, innit? Think he’ll be mad?” she asked, picking at the singed ends with absent fingers.

“Who?”

“Him. Me,” she offered helplessly. Yaz frowned, turning back to the bag without replying. It was a difficult sort of mental gymnastics that she had to perform after any given regeneration. The separating herself from her previous self while simultaneously reconciling the two existences. Bit of a head wonk, that one. She took a breath, turning to the cluttered desk and dusty mirror she’d been placed down in front of. Her eyes caught the little silver things scattered across its wooden surface. “Yaz, what are these?” she called, picking one of the dangly ones up between her thumb and forefinger. Yaz turned to look, and she watched her glance at the thing in the reflection of the mirror. Another frown settled on her face.

“Those are...earrings,” she said, and though it wasn’t quite a question, her voice lilted up at the end as if it was, cocking her head quizzically.

“Are you sure?” she asked back, turning her body to look Yaz dead in the eye. “You don’t seem too sure.”

“I’m fairly certain I know what earrings look like,” she said, tossing a few shirts on the bed. “Been wearing them my whole life. More concerned that you don’t know.”

She hummed, choosing to ignore that as she turned back to face the mirror and examine it in detail. There was a little silver hook and from it dangled a set of beads in warm colors. She flicked it with her other finger, watching them sway back and forth in quick succession, clinking together and tangling. Her eyes got buggy rather quickly and she blinked, setting it back down on the desk.

“What do you do with them?” she called again, frowning as she leaned forward to examine herself in the mirror.

“You wear them. They’re jewelry. Jesus, how hard did you hit your head. Are you sure you don’t want to go to A&E?” Yaz asked, walking to stand behind her with her hands on her hips. She just prodded at her cheeks, lips squishing together.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she muttered, holding her hair up above her head and watching it fall back down to her chin.

“You don’t even know your name,” Yaz sighed, pressing her hand into the back of her chair.

“Which is a perfectly natural response when all your atoms have been instantaneously rearranged,” she said simply, turning to look up at Yaz. Then she gasped, her eyes lighting up as she reached out to run her thumb across Yaz’s ear lobe. “Oh, I get it now! Ear Rings. That is brilliant,” she grinned, prodding the little hoop in Yaz’s ear and stretching the velvety skin there with gentle fingers, little hairs bending under her thumb. Yaz swallowed and grabbed her wrist. She didn’t look quite as certain now as she had a few minutes ago when she’d pressed her palms into her shoulders and decisively pushed her into a chair.

“Can you not do that again, please?” Yaz asked, voice cracking as she met her eyes.

“Okay,” she said, lowering her arm as Yaz let go of it. She remembered that humans were finicky about their personal space, and she could never seem to keep up. Still, Yaz’s reaction seemed odd. She brought her fingers to her own ear, rubbing her thumb over the equally soft skin as Yaz turned back to the bed to organize her pile of things.

“I picked out some clothes for you. Some pajamas, a couple tee shirts and trousers, a sports bra if you want it. Obviously not sure what your size for anything is, but we can go shopping tomorrow morning,” Yaz offered.

She leaned forward to look at herself in the mirror again, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Why do you wear them?”

“Clothes?” Yaz asked hesitantly, not turning around. She glanced at Yaz's back in the mirror.

“Earrings,” she clarified, and Yaz almost looked relieved as she let out a breathy laugh.

“Oh, um, I dunno really. They look nice? My mum did them when I was pretty little. It’s kind of like a thing for girls to wear them,” Yaz shrugged, unfolding a shirt from her duffel bag.

She ran a finger down her nose, over her lips, and down her neck. It was smooth. Sans adam’s apple. Sans facial hair. She examined her jawline and collar bones and ran her fingers down the V of her button down. It was all very soft. And she recognized it as hers. “I think I’m a girl,” she breathed suddenly, wide eyed as she traced her hairline. She’d been told that information already in between that precise moment in Grace and Graham’s bedroom and when she’d crashed through a train roof, but she hadn’t quite comprehended the idea until then. She heard Yaz chuckle behind her.

“Good for you, then.”

She picked up the earring again, scrutinizing it. There were others like it in a little porcelain bowl near the mirror. With eager fingers, she dug through them, sorting through safety pins and paperclips and earrings that didn’t have their other halves.

“I want an earring, Yaz,” she declared, searching Grace’s stash for the perfect one.

“Just one?” Yaz asked skeptically.

“Never had one before,” she mused. 

“So you want to be a pirate, then?” 

“Never noticed them before,” she mused, pondering what else she might have missed as a man.

“Okay, well, we can go to a piercing shop tomorrow, I guess.”

“Tomorrow?” she whined, deflating and scrunching her nose up. “That’s hours away, and I might not want one then.”

“All the better reason to wait!” Yaz protested, turning to her. Then she paused suddenly, her face going sour. “God, I sound like my mother.”

She scrambled to her feet and took a few large strides forward, hands up to emphasize her point. “Yaz, listen. Sometimes my brain makes decisions that I disagree with, but this is literally a once in a lifetime opportunity to get ahead of myself,” she pleaded. Oh, begging, that’s new. She wasn’t sure she liked it yet, but she did need this earring and it felt like she might die again if she didn’t get it.

“Right, there’s a lot to unpack there, but I’m choosing to ignore it,” Yaz sighed, so close that she felt her breath on her nose.

“I’m not all together right now—”

“That’s something we can agree on,” Yaz muttered.

“—I’m still...forming. When I wake up tomorrow, I might not like earrings. Who knows? Everything’s new and different, and I might turn out to be a total bore if I don’t do something about it right now,” she breathed, biting down on her lip. She wasn’t sure if that was true, but it felt true with all the buzzing urgency going on inside her. That might just be the regeneration energy still repairing her internal organs from that landing, not her best one admittedly, but that certainly didn’t matter in her quest for an earring.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Yaz groaned. “How are you not exhausted?” Seeing the pleading look in Yaz’s eyes made her sag just a little, huffing as she sat back down.

“Humans have terrible circadian rhythms, and you should inquire about changing them. I mean, you sleep a third of your life away!” she protested indignantly. Yaz cocked her head at her.

“What do you mean...humans?” Yaz quickly shook her head. “You know what, I’ve had enough weird for the night, so I’m just gonna step out and let you change,” she said, walking out of the room and leaving her to fiddle with loose earrings and wondering if that could be her next project, changing humanity’s sleep cycle. She wondered if they’d make her a statue or something. Did she like statues? Well, she didn’t like ones that moved, and there was no telling which ones could, so decidedly not.

Still bitter, she sulked over the desk, picking up earrings and examining them. She poked at the dull end, wondering how exactly they got them through your ear lobe if they weren’t even sharp. Another shiny thing caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, and she grinned, picking it up. “Brilliant,” she breathed, opening the safety pin and watching the pointy bit sparkle in the light.

She leaned closer to the mirror, looking herself in the eye and taking a deep breath as she aligned the pin with her ear. In one decisive motion, she shoved it through, and a white hot pain burned across her skin. “Ow!” she yelped with a frown, feeling rather betrayed. Yaz poked her head in to see what was going on and was at her side in a flash when she saw the blood beading on her ear.

“Are you bloody insane?” Yaz asked, looking at the pin stuck through her ear, the skin already bright red and puffy.

“I didn’t think it would hurt,” she admitted, glancing up at Yaz.

“You just tore a hole through part of your body. It’s gonna hurt!” Yaz protested, grabbing a tissue. In the meantime, she grabbed the safety pin and winced as she latched it in place. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re taking that out right now. It could get infected!”

“No, this is the perfect time to do this!” she protested, eyes wide and urgent. “I’m still rearranging. So if I can keep the hole there until things settle down then it’ll become a part of this new body. It won’t ever close,” she said, scrambling out of her chair and inching away from a slowly approaching Yaz.

“I just wanna look at it,” she said, tissue in hand. She eyed Yaz’s posture, ready to pounce, and seriously doubted her sincerity.

“Stay away from me, Yaz,” she warned, inching toward the door.

“At least let me clean it. You’re dripping on your jacket,” she said, motioning to her shoulder. She quickly wiped her fingers along her earlobe and found them slick with dark orange blood.

“‘M fine!” she motioned, wiping her fingers on her trouser leg. Yaz eyed her. “He won’t mind,” she assured her, but that seemed to make Yaz even less assured and she lunged for her. But she was too quick, sliding out the door and running down the hallway to the living room. “I’m serious, Ya—” she yelped as strong arms wrapped around her, and then they were both on the ground, the wind knocked out of her. Yaz gasped, rolling off her. Then she turned onto her back as Yaz sat on her heels. “Oh, god, that one hurt. I think you rebruised my left kidney.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to tackle you. Just couldn’t have you running out the door. If you won’t go to A&E, you’re our responsibility now,” she breathed, pressing her palms into her thighs.

“I’m not a madman,” she protested, wincing as she propped herself up on her forearms.

“That’s highly debatable, love,” Grace chimed in, and that was when she realized that she was in the middle of the living room floor, all her new friends peering down at her.

“I’m very serious about my earrings. So I’m learning. Do you happen to have any in gold? I don’t think silver’s my color,” she offered, scrunching her nose as she brushed her hair back to show them all the safety pin secured through her ear and the blood smeared down her neck.

[ivorycello]

Thinking back, I do not understand that scene where Hanne was under the table and repeating “it takes you away” can anyone actually explain that

[regenderate-fic]

Flashes

Fandom: Doctor Who Ship: Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Yasmin Khan, Graham O'Brien, Ryan Sinclair Rating: General Series: Fanzine Prompts Word Count: 1,452 Crossposted from AO3. Originally posted on 25 August 2019. Link to original.

It just takes a flash of blonde in a crowd, an echo of length and texture. The Doctor always turns her head ever-so-slightly before she remembers— everyone in the crowd is a stranger.

NOTES: this was written for the first day of thirteen week which came with the prompt "deja vu."

It’s always the hair.

It just takes a flash of blonde in a crowd, an echo of length and texture. The Doctor always turns her head ever-so-slightly before she remembers— everyone in the crowd is a stranger, except her fam. And neither Graham nor Ryan nor Yaz is a blonde.

Still.

There’s always a part of her that holds out hope.

Because impossible things happen.

They happen all the time, to the Doctor. Captain Jack came back (was brought back) to life, over and over and over again. Why couldn’t the walls of a parallel universe be broken down?

It’s been over a thousand years since she last saw Rose Tyler, but somehow, the Doctor holds out hope.

It’s not just Rose, of course. It’s everyone. But Rose was the first person she met after the Time War, and the first she loved after losing everything, and the one who absolutely with one hundred percent certainty cannot come back, and so even a hint of her hits the Doctor right in the chest. She gasps, and Ryan or Yaz or Graham asks what’s wrong, and she just shakes her head.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just thought I saw something.”

But she’s still on edge.

It’s funny, because eventually they wind up in London in 2004, and the Doctor isn’t thinking about Rose at all. They’re in a totally different part of the city, they’re running from completely new monsters, there’s a lot to be getting on with. She doesn’t miss Rose or anyone else any more than usual; it doesn’t rise above the constant thrum of ImissthemitwasmyfaultIwanttoseethemagain that was always beating in her chest.

Until she sees a flash of blonde.

In the middle of running.

And she stops in her tracks as she realizes: it’s 2004. London.

Rose Tyler is alive.

But then Ryan yells, “Doctor! What are you doing?” and Yaz grabs her arm and the Doctor can’t dwell on it, she can’t, there’s so much more she has to be worrying about.

That’s the trouble with being a Time Lord. So much to worry about.

Right now, the Doctor is worrying about the risk of seeing people before they know who she is. She’s done it with Rose before, of course, but on purpose, and in controlled circumstances (or, well, as controlled as they get). And River— well, River never didn’t know, but still. There was a time when the Doctor met River and River didn’t know her own name. She’s seen Captain Jack a couple of times over the years, too, back in his Time Agent days, before she and Rose barreled into his life.

It’s not so much that it’s dangerous for the people, of course, to meet the Doctor before they’ve met the Doctor. Not beyond the usual risk of hanging around the Doctor, at any rate. As long as she doesn’t tell them who she is and doesn’t hang around that long, it’s fine.

It’s just painful.

The danger is in the pain.

But the Doctor doesn’t have time to think about this, because she’s running, and that flash of blonde is still in her mind, and Yaz’s hand is still on her wrist, and there’s yelling and explosions and it’s all a bit much.

Later, though. After they’ve won. They’re in a chip shop (Rose took her to a chip shop, she remembers, after their first adventure) and the Doctor can barely focus on her food, even though the one constant throughout all of her regenerations has been that she loves chips. She knows Ryan and Graham and Yaz have noticed something is off, but they haven’t said anything. They’re just joking with each other. She loves them, she realizes, her new friends who are kind and considerate and try their best to give her what she needs.

(She’ll miss them, down the line.)

“I have an old friend here,” she says, finally. The others stop their conversation immediately.

“Here in London?” Yaz asks.

“In London,” the Doctor says. “In 2004. She doesn’t know me yet.”

“What do you mean, she doesn’t know you yet?” Graham asks.

“Time travel,” Ryan reminds him. He takes a chip off Graham’s plate. Graham looks like he’s about to protest, but then the Doctor speaks.

“He’s right,” she says. “She won’t meet me for another year. Well, or about six months, depending on how you count it.” She hesitates. “It’s not the first time I’ve come back.”

She’s told her friends a lot about her past. The fun parts, at least, the adventures, the wild bits. But she hasn’t talked as much about her old friends. She just sort of refers to them as “a friend” or “my companion at the time” if she has to, and otherwise she limits stories to chance encounters only, deeds from people she’ll never see again. She tries, sometimes, to talk about the bigger stuff— Bad Wolf, the year that never was, the Pandorica— but she can’t, somehow. It’s too big. Too important. (Too painful.)

She’s not sure what’s different now. Maybe it’s just being back in London, knowing Rose is out there somewhere. If they do see her (they won’t, she’s sure they won’t), she wants them to know what it means.

“Anyway,” she says. “She was brilliant. Got locked in a parallel universe and still managed to come back.”

“Why don’t you travel with her anymore, then?” Ryan asks.

The Doctor shakes her head.

“That was over a thousand years ago,” she says. She can hear Ryan’s exhale at hearing that. “Anyway, she would’ve traveled with me forever. But I sent her away with a copy of myself.” She remembers it again, that day on the beach, not telling Rose she loved her. “I don’t know if that was the right thing,” she adds. She feels tears at the corners of her eyes and quickly stuffs a bit of fish into her mouth to cover. “Anyway,” she says, her mouth full. “Just wanted you to know. In case we see her.”

“Of course,” Yaz says, and changes the subject. A banter begins, and the Doctor looks down at her food until the tears stop pricking at her eyes.

Because the Doctor is looking for it, she sees six more flashes of blonde on the way back to the TARDIS. None of them are Rose.

“I miss her,” she admits once they’re inside, leaning against the console. “Rose.”

“Of course you do,” Yaz says.

“Go see her, then,” Ryan says.

“I can’t,” the Doctor says.

“The way I hear it,” Graham says, “your whole face has changed since you saw her last.”

“It could ruin her whole timeline,” the Doctor says. It’s true, but it’s not likely. If she’s honest with herself, which she rarely is, she’s just afraid of the pain.

“It’s worth the risk, mate,” Ryan says, and the Doctor sighs.

“All right, then.” She looks at the others. “Come with me?”

They leave the TARDIS again and start walking together. It’s evening, so the Doctor thinks maybe they’ll just go down to the estate, wander around the nearby shops, see if there’s anyone she recognizes.

They’re only halfway there when it happens.

Rose Tyler and Mickey Smith stumble out of a restaurant right in front of the Doctor, laughing and holding hands.

The Doctor trips on her own shoelace and falls to the ground.

Rose is right there.

“Are you all right, ma’am?”

Rose is touching her shoulder.

The Doctor turns her head and sees Rose’s eyes, exactly like she remembered.

“I’m fine,” she says through a lump in her throat. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your date.”

“’S all right,” Rose says with a smile. She moves her hand away, and the Doctor’s shoulder suddenly feels cold. “Need help getting up?”

“I’m fine,” the Doctor says, and she pushes herself to her feet. “Thanks.”

Rose gives her another smile. Her smile’s always been so bright, the Doctor thinks. She smiles back, trying to match.

“See you around,” Rose says.

“Sure,” the Doctor replies. Her tongue is heavy in her mouth. There’s so much she wants to say here, to Rose, but she can’t. Not to this Rose.

And then Rose turns back to Mickey, takes his hand again, and walks away, and the Doctor turns back to her friends.

“That was her,” she says. “Rose.”

The others don’t say anything. Ryan and Yaz put their arms around the Doctor on either side, and they walk together back to the TARDIS and into the library and don’t leave her side until all four of them are asleep on the sofa.

She misses Rose. She’ll miss her new friends someday too. But for now, she’s just glad she’s not alone.

[ao3feed-doctorxrose]

Her Name's Rose

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2OPBrpW

by just_makeing_it_gay_97

After being taken captive, one alien takes it too far when it comes to bringing up the Doctors last, mainly Rose.

Enter The Oncoming Storm.

Words: 1685, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Thirteen/Rose

Fandoms: Doctor Who (2005)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M

Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Rose Tyler | Bad Wolf, Jack Harkness, Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair, Graham O'Brien, Grace O'Brien

Relationships: The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler

Additional Tags: Drabble, The Doctor Loves Rose Tyler, The Oncoming Storm (Doctor Who)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2OPBrpW

[ao3feed-frerard]

(Un)Famous (not) last words

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2VpSsZ5

by Cyber_Grape_aka_Jay

Melody Clara Rose "Ace" McShane had well...A lot going for her. The Niece of the Doctor (And the Master but she doesn't like talking about it), Discovered she wasn''t human when she was ten, watched her parents brutally murdered when she was 13, died for the first time at 14, unlocked a mysterious power at 15 and accidentally led to the creation of a murderous species at the same time

When she was 250 she regenerated for the first time, after a near catastrophic multi-dimensional ending event. Dying with her Uncle, Her best friends and Sherlock.

Fifteen years later, at 265, she's lived a relatively strange life as a half human, half Galifreyan, Time Lord/Lady, interdimensional Goddess ect, so...might as well write them down!

(Note, these are mostly oneshots, with an over arching plot, where Ace is either in the foreground, background or was just...Told it... I hope you enjoy!)

Words: 375, Chapters: 1/10, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of The Strange and Confusing Life of a half Gallifreyan named Ace

Fandoms: Doctor Who (2005), Supernatural, Sherlock (TV), Superwholock - Fandom, The Umbrella Academy (TV), Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Torchwood, Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other

Characters: Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Original Character(s) - Character, Patrick Stump, Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Gabriel (Supernatural), Pete Wentz, Andy Hurley, Joe Trohman, Frank Iero, Ray Toro, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Jenny Flint, Madam Vastra, Jenny (Doctor Who: The Doctor's Daughter), Yasmin Khan, Graham O'Brien, Ryan Sinclair, Avengers Team (MCU), The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy)

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness/Everyone, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Jenny Flint/Madame Vastra, Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz, Andy Hurley/Joe Trohman, Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Brendon Urie/Dallon Weekes, Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Andy Hurley/Patrick Stump/Joe Trohman/Pete Wentz

Additional Tags: Pretty much just oneshots with my oc's, Supernatural Elements, Angst, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Music, Vampire Pete Wentz, Alternate Universe - A Little Less Sixteen Candles (Music Video), Werewolf Patrick Stump, murders, Time Travel, Interdimensional Travel, Narnia

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2VpSsZ5

[ao3feed-riversong]

there is never a moment

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2CQuYoT

by andanete

for as long as she has lived, beyond the falls and rises of civilization, past the turns of an ever changing world, there is never a moment she is without her doctor.

or, this is the story of a long-living spirit and a time-travelling alien.

Words: 1656, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of ancient things with new moments [dw]

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

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi

Characters: The Doctor, The Doctor's TARDIS, The Doctor (Doctor Who), River Song, Amy Pond (Doctor Who), Rory Pond, Rose Tyler, Rose Tyler | Bad Wolf, The Master (Doctor Who), Donna Noble, Martha Jones, Jack Harkness | Face of Boe, Mickey Smith, Clara Oswin Oswald, Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair, Graham O'Brien, Sarah Jane Smith

Relationships: The Doctor/River Song, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Original Character(s), River Song/Original Character(s), The Doctor's TARDIS & Original Character(s), The Doctor's Companions & Original Character, The Doctor/River Song/Original Chracter

Additional Tags: every moment lasts a second and forever with you, she who has many names and no names at all, the ongoing storm, two souls, a long living spirit and her time traveller, the time lord and their immortal, Immortality, time travelling, no proof reading, we die like men

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2CQuYoT

[allbestnet]

100 Best First Lines of Novels

Call me Ishmael. Moby-Dick by Herman Melville (1851)

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (1813)

A screaming comes across the sky. Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon (1973)

Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez (trans. Gregory Rabassa) (1967)

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (1955)

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy (trans. Constance Garnett) (1877)

riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. Finnegans Wake by James Joyce (1939)

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. 1984 by George Orwell (1949)

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens (1859)

I am an invisible man. Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison (1952)

The Miss Lonelyhearts of the New York Post-Dispatch (Are you in trouble?—Do-you-need-advice?—Write-to-Miss-Lonelyhearts-and-she-will-help-you) sat at his desk and stared at a piece of white cardboard. Miss Lonelyhearts by Nathanael West (1933)

You don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain't no matter. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain (1885)

Someone must have slandered Josef K., for one morning, without having done anything truly wrong, he was arrested. The Trial by Franz Kafka (trans. Breon Mitchell) (1925)

You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino's new novel, If on a winter's night a traveler. If on a winter's night a traveler by Italo Calvino (trans. William Weaver) (1979)

The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new. Murphy by Samuel Beckett (1938)

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger (1951)

Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce (1916)

This is the saddest story I have ever heard. The Good Soldier by Ford Madox Ford (1915)

I wish either my father or my mother, or indeed both of them, as they were in duty both equally bound to it, had minded what they were about when they begot me; had they duly considered how much depended upon what they were then doing;—that not only the production of a rational Being was concerned in it, but that possibly the happy formation and temperature of his body, perhaps his genius and the very cast of his mind;—and, for aught they knew to the contrary, even the fortunes of his whole house might take their turn from the humours and dispositions which were then uppermost:—Had they duly weighed and considered all this, and proceeded accordingly,—I am verily persuaded I should have made a quite different figure in the world, from that, in which the reader is likely to see me. Tristram Shandy by Laurence Sterne (1759–1767)

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. David Copperfield by Charles Dickens (1850)

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. Ulysses by James Joyce (1922)

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the house-tops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness. Paul Clifford by Edward George Bulwer-Lytton (1830)

One summer afternoon Mrs. Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupperware party whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in the fondue to find that she, Oedipa, had been named executor, or she supposed executrix, of the estate of one Pierce Inverarity, a California real estate mogul who had once lost two million dollars in his spare time but still had assets numerous and tangled enough to make the job of sorting it all out more than honorary. The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon (1966)

It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night, and the voice on the other end asking for someone he was not. City of Glass by Paul Auster (1985)

Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner (1929)

124 was spiteful. Beloved by Toni Morrison (1987)

Somewhere in la Mancha, in a place whose name I do not care to remember, a gentleman lived not long ago, one of those who has a lance and ancient shield on a shelf and keeps a skinny nag and a greyhound for racing. Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes (trans. Edith Grossman) (1605)

Mother died today. The Stranger by Albert Camus (trans. Stuart Gilbert) (1942)

Every summer Lin Kong returned to Goose Village to divorce his wife, Shuyu. Waiting by Ha Jin (1999)

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. Neuromancer by William Gibson (1984)

I am a sick man . . . I am a spiteful man. Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (trans. Michael R. Katz) (1864)

Where now? Who now? When now? The Unnamable by Samuel Beckett (trans. Patrick Bowles) (1953)

Once an angry man dragged his father along the ground through his own orchard. “Stop!” cried the groaning old man at last, “Stop! I did not drag my father beyond this tree.” The Making of Americans by Gertrude Stein (1925)

In a sense, I am Jacob Horner. The End of the Road by John Barth (1958)

It was like so, but wasn't. Galatea 2.2 by Richard Powers (1995)

—Money . . . in a voice that rustled. J R by William Gaddis (1975)

Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself. Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (1925)

All this happened, more or less. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut (1969)

They shoot the white girl first. Paradise by Toni Morrison (1998)

For a long time, I went to bed early. Swann's Way by Marcel Proust (trans. Lydia Davis) (1913)

The moment one learns English, complications set in. Chromos by Felipe Alfau (1990)

Dr. Weiss, at forty, knew that her life had been ruined by literature. The Debut by Anita Brookner (1981)

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain / By the false azure in the windowpane; Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov (1962)

Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston (1937)

I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story. Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton (1911)

Ages ago, Alex, Allen and Alva arrived at Antibes, and Alva allowing all, allowing anyone, against Alex's admonition, against Allen's angry assertion: another African amusement . . . anyhow, as all argued, an awesome African army assembled and arduously advanced against an African anthill, assiduously annihilating ant after ant, and afterward, Alex astonishingly accuses Albert as also accepting Africa's antipodal ant annexation. Alphabetical Africa by Walter Abish (1974)

There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis (1952)

He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway (1952)

It was the day my grandmother exploded. The Crow Road by Iain M. Banks (1992)

I was born twice: first, as a baby girl, on a remarkably smogless Detroit day in January of 1960; and then again, as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan, in August of 1974. Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides (2002)

Elmer Gantry was drunk. Elmer Gantry by Sinclair Lewis (1927)

We started dying before the snow, and like the snow, we continued to fall. Tracks by Louise Erdrich (1988)

It was a pleasure to burn. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury (1953)

A story has no beginning or end; arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead. The End of the Affair by Graham Greene (1951)

Having placed in my mouth sufficient bread for three minutes' chewing, I withdrew my powers of sensual perception and retired into the privacy of my mind, my eyes and face assuming a vacant and preoccupied expression. At Swim-Two-Birds by Flann O'Brien (1939)

I was born in the Year 1632, in the City of York, of a good Family, tho' not of that Country, my Father being a Foreigner of Bremen, who settled first at Hull; He got a good Estate by Merchandise, and leaving off his Trade, lived afterward at York, from whence he had married my Mother, whose Relations were named Robinson, a very good Family in that Country, and from whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer; but by the usual Corruption of Words in England, we are now called, nay we call our selves, and write our Name Crusoe, and so my Companions always call'd me. Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe (1719)

In the beginning, sometimes I left messages in the street. Wittgenstein's Mistress by David Markson (1988)

Miss Brooke had that kind of beauty which seems to be thrown into relief by poor dress. Middlemarch by George Eliot (1872)

It was love at first sight. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller (1961)

What if this young woman, who writes such bad poems, in competition with her husband, whose poems are equally bad, should stretch her remarkably long and well-made legs out before you, so that her skirt slips up to the tops of her stockings? Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things by Gilbert Sorrentino (1971)

I have never begun a novel with more misgiving. The Razor's Edge by W. Somerset Maugham (1944)

Once upon a time, there was a woman who discovered she had turned into the wrong person. Back When We Were Grownups by Anne Tyler (2001)

The human race, to which so many of my readers belong, has been playing at children's games from the beginning, and will probably do it till the end, which is a nuisance for the few people who grow up. The Napoleon of Notting Hill by G. K. Chesterton (1904)

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1925)

You better not never tell nobody but God. The Color Purple by Alice Walker (1982)

“To be born again,” sang Gibreel Farishta tumbling from the heavens, “first you have to die.” The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie (1988)

It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath (1963)

Most really pretty girls have pretty ugly feet, and so does Mindy Metalman, Lenore notices, all of a sudden. The Broom of the System by David Foster Wallace (1987)

If I am out of my mind, it's all right with me, thought Moses Herzog. Herzog by Saul Bellow (1964)

Francis Marion Tarwater's uncle had been dead for only half a day when the boy got too drunk to finish digging his grave and a Negro named Buford Munson, who had come to get a jug filled, had to finish it and drag the body from the breakfast table where it was still sitting and bury it in a decent and Christian way, with the sign of its Saviour at the head of the grave and enough dirt on top to keep the dogs from digging it up. The Violent Bear it Away by Flannery O'Connor (1960)

Granted: I am an inmate of a mental hospital; my keeper is watching me, he never lets me out of his sight; there's a peephole in the door, and my keeper's eye is the shade of brown that can never see through a blue-eyed type like me. The Tin Drum by GŸnter Grass (trans. Ralph Manheim) (1959)

When Dick Gibson was a little boy he was not Dick Gibson. The Dick Gibson Show by Stanley Elkin (1971)

Hiram Clegg, together with his wife Emma and four friends of the faith from Randolph Junction, were summoned by the Spirit and Mrs. Clara Collins, widow of the beloved Nazarene preacher Ely Collins, to West Condon on the weekend of the eighteenth and nineteenth of April, there to await the End of the World. The Origin of the Brunists by Robert Coover (1966)

She waited, Kate Croy, for her father to come in, but he kept her unconscionably, and there were moments at which she showed herself, in the glass over the mantel, a face positively pale with the irritation that had brought her to the point of going away without sight of him. The Wings of the Dove by Henry James (1902)

In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains. A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway (1929)

“Take my camel, dear,” said my Aunt Dot, as she climbed down from this animal on her return from High Mass. The Towers of Trebizon by Rose Macaulay (1956)

He was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he advanced straight at you with a slight stoop of the shoulders, head forward, and a fixed from-under stare which made you think of a charging bull. Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad (1900)

The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there. The Go-Between by L. P. Hartley (1953)

On my naming day when I come 12 I gone front spear and kilt a wyld boar he parbly ben the las wyld pig on the Bundel Downs any how there hadnt ben none for a long time befor him nor I aint looking to see none agen. Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban (1980)

Justice?—You get justice in the next world, in this world you have the law. A Frolic of His Own by William Gaddis (1994)

Vaughan died yesterday in his last car-crash. Crash by J. G. Ballard (1973)

I write this sitting in the kitchen sink. I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith (1948)

“When your mama was the geek, my dreamlets,” Papa would say, “she made the nipping off of noggins such a crystal mystery that the hens themselves yearned toward her, waltzing around her, hypnotized with longing.” Geek Love by Katherine Dunn (1983)

In the last years of the Seventeenth Century there was to be found among the fops and fools of the London coffee-houses one rangy, gangling flitch called Ebenezer Cooke, more ambitious than talented, and yet more talented than prudent, who, like his friends-in-folly, all of whom were supposed to be educating at Oxford or Cambridge, had found the sound of Mother English more fun to game with than her sense to labor over, and so rather than applying himself to the pains of scholarship, had learned the knack of versifying, and ground out quires of couplets after the fashion of the day, afroth with Joves and Jupiters, aclang with jarring rhymes, and string-taut with similes stretched to the snapping-point. The Sot-Weed Factor by John Barth (1960)

When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon. The Last Good Kiss by James Crumley (1978)

It was just noon that Sunday morning when the sheriff reached the jail with Lucas Beauchamp though the whole town (the whole county too for that matter) had known since the night before that Lucas had killed a white man. Intruder in the Dust by William Faulkner (1948)

I, Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus This-that-and-the-other (for I shall not trouble you yet with all my titles) who was once, and not so long ago either, known to my friends and relatives and associates as “Claudius the Idiot,” or “That Claudius,” or “Claudius the Stammerer,” or “Clau-Clau-Claudius” or at best as “Poor Uncle Claudius,” am now about to write this strange history of my life; starting from my earliest childhood and continuing year by year until I reach the fateful point of change where, some eight years ago, at the age of fifty-one, I suddenly found myself caught in what I may call the “golden predicament” from which I have never since become disentangled. I, Claudius by Robert Graves (1934)

Of all the things that drive men to sea, the most common disaster, I've come to learn, is women. Middle Passage by Charles Johnson (1990)

I am an American, Chicago born—Chicago, that somber city—and go at things as I have taught myself, free-style, and will make the record in my own way: first to knock, first admitted; sometimes an innocent knock, sometimes a not so innocent. The Adventures of Augie March by Saul Bellow (1953)

The towers of Zenith aspired above the morning mist; austere towers of steel and cement and limestone, sturdy as cliffs and delicate as silver rods. Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis (1922)

I will tell you in a few words who I am: lover of the hummingbird that darts to the flower beyond the rotted sill where my feet are propped; lover of bright needlepoint and the bright stitching fingers of humorless old ladies bent to their sweet and infamous designs; lover of parasols made from the same puffy stuff as a young girl's underdrawers; still lover of that small naval boat which somehow survived the distressing years of my life between her decks or in her pilothouse; and also lover of poor dear black Sonny, my mess boy, fellow victim and confidant, and of my wife and child. But most of all, lover of my harmless and sanguine self. Second Skin by John Hawkes (1964)

He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad. Scaramouche by Raphael Sabatini (1921)

Psychics can see the color of time it's blue. Blown Away by Ronald Sukenick (1986)

In the town, there were two mutes and they were always together. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers (1940)

Once upon a time two or three weeks ago, a rather stubborn and determined middle-aged man decided to record for posterity, exactly as it happened, word by word and step by step, the story of another man for indeed what is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal, a somewhat paranoiac fellow unmarried, unattached, and quite irresponsible, who had decided to lock himself in a room a furnished room with a private bath, cooking facilities, a bed, a table, and at least one chair, in New York City, for a year 365 days to be precise, to write the story of another person—a shy young man about of 19 years old—who, after the war the Second World War, had come to America the land of opportunities from France under the sponsorship of his uncle—a journalist, fluent in five languages—who himself had come to America from Europe Poland it seems, though this was not clearly established sometime during the war after a series of rather gruesome adventures, and who, at the end of the war, wrote to the father his cousin by marriage of the young man whom he considered as a nephew, curious to know if he the father and his family had survived the German occupation, and indeed was deeply saddened to learn, in a letter from the young man—a long and touching letter written in English, not by the young man, however, who did not know a damn word of English, but by a good friend of his who had studied English in school—that his parents both his father and mother and his two sisters one older and the other younger than he had been deported they were Jewish to a German concentration camp Auschwitz probably and never returned, no doubt having been exterminated deliberately X * X * X * X, and that, therefore, the young man who was now an orphan, a displaced person, who, during the war, had managed to escape deportation by working very hard on a farm in Southern France, would be happy and grateful to be given the opportunity to come to America that great country he had heard so much about and yet knew so little about to start a new life, possibly go to school, learn a trade, and become a good, loyal citizen. Double or Nothing by Raymond Federman (1971)

Time is not a line but a dimension, like the dimensions of space. Cat's Eye by Margaret Atwood (1988)

He—for there could be no doubt of his sex, though the fashion of the time did something to disguise it—was in the act of slicing at the head of a Moor which swung from the rafters. Orlando by Virginia Woolf (1928)

High, high above the North Pole, on the first day of 1969, two professors of English Literature approached each other at a combined velocity of 1200 miles per hour. Changing Places by David Lodge (1975)

They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did. Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys (1966)

The cold passed reluctantly from the earth, and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretched out on the hills, resting. The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane (1895)

[dawsey28]

Death To 2020

December 27, 2020

Netflix

“Death to 2020 is a comedy event that tells the story of the dreadful year that was — and perhaps still is? This landmark documentary-style special weaves together some of the world's most (fictitious) renowned voices with real-life archival footage spanning the past 12 months.”

Trailer: https://youtu.be/veUqfcyZ_Bo

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Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Part 4

December 31, 2020

Netflix

“Over the course of Part 4’s eight episodes, The Eldritch Terrors will descend upon Greendale. The coven must fight each terrifying threat one-by-one (The Weird, The Returned, The Darkness to name a few), all leading up to…The Void, which is the End of All Things. As the witches wage war, with the help of The Fright Club, Nick begins to slowly earn his way back into Sabrina’s heart, but will it be too late?”

Trailer: https://youtu.be/gENO66DUgaQ

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Cobra Kai Season 3

January 1, 2021

Netflix

“Season 3's plot follows up on Miguel's injury, Kreese's takeover of the Cobra Kai Dojo Ali's rekindled friendship with Johnny (theorized) and Johnny's relationship with Carmen. There will also be high tensions between Hawk, Demetri, and Kyler as Kyler will join Cobra Kai.”

Trailer: https://youtu.be/LcDQqGJG8pA

• https://youtu.be/9knMpi2tans

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Doctor Who: Revolution Of The Daleks

January 1, 2021

BBC

“Revolution of the Daleks was the 2021 New Year Special of Doctor Who. It featured the return of Jack Harkness, and marked the Thirteenth Doctor's reunion with her companions following the events of The Timeless Children.

The episode also saw the departure of Bradley Walsh as Graham O'Brien and Tosin Cole as Ryan Sinclair.

Continuing the Recon Dalek storyline begun in Resolution, a new line of Daleks were introduced, cloned from a remnant of the original recon scout. Their new design is a variant on the Recon Dalek's own casing. It also saw the return of bronze Daleks, last seen in 2017's Twice Upon a Time, leading to a battle between both factions, similar to Remembrance of the Daleks and Blood of the Daleks.”

Trailer: https://youtu.be/OEVWuYVUsBs

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Shadow In The Cloud

January 1, 2021

Theaters

“While travelling with top-secret documents on a B-17 Flying Fortress, a female WWII pilot encounters an evil presence on board.”

Trailer: https://youtu.be/WC_GI988MB4

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Love And Monsters

October 16, 2020

VOD

January 5, 2021

Blu-Ray and DVD

“Seven years after the Monsterpocalypse, Joel Dawson, along with the rest of humanity, has been living underground ever since giant creatures took control of the land. After reconnecting over the radio with his high school girlfriend, Aimee, who is now 80 miles away at a coastal colony, Joel begins to fall for her again. As Joel realizes that there's nothing left for him underground, he decides to venture out to Aimee, despite all the dangerous monsters that stand in his way.”

Trailer: https://youtu.be/vGl9Dkl2Onc

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Charming

January 8, 2021

Netflix

“Snow White, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty discover that they are all engaged to the same Prince Charming.”

Trailer: https://youtu.be/XUGPG-iPSWs

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[upwardboundwriting]

100 (Best) First Lines of Novels

1. Call me Ishmael. —Herman Melville, Moby-Dick (1851)

2. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. —Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice (1813)

3. A screaming comes across the sky. —Thomas Pynchon, Gravity's Rainbow (1973)

4. Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. —Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967; trans. Gregory Rabassa)

5. Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. —Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita (1955)

6. Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. —Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina (1877; trans. Constance Garnett)

7. riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. —James Joyce, Finnegans Wake (1939)

8. It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. —George Orwell, 1984 (1949)

9. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair. —Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities (1859)

10. I am an invisible man. —Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man (1952)

11. The Miss Lonelyhearts of the New York Post-Dispatch (Are you in trouble?—Do-you-need-advice?—Write-to-Miss-Lonelyhearts-and-she-will-help-you) sat at his desk and stared at a piece of white cardboard. —Nathanael West, Miss Lonelyhearts (1933)

12. You don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain't no matter. —Mark Twain, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1885)

13. Someone must have slandered Josef K., for one morning, without having done anything truly wrong, he was arrested. —Franz Kafka, The Trial (1925; trans. Breon Mitchell)

14. You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino's new novel, If on a winter's night a traveler. —Italo Calvino, If on a winter's night a traveler (1979; trans. William Weaver)

15. The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new. —Samuel Beckett, Murphy (1938)

16. If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. —J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye (1951)

17. Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo. —James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916)

18. This is the saddest story I have ever heard. —Ford Madox Ford, The Good Soldier (1915)

19. I wish either my father or my mother, or indeed both of them, as they were in duty both equally bound to it, had minded what they were about when they begot me; had they duly considered how much depended upon what they were then doing;—that not only the production of a rational Being was concerned in it, but that possibly the happy formation and temperature of his body, perhaps his genius and the very cast of his mind;—and, for aught they knew to the contrary, even the fortunes of his whole house might take their turn from the humours and dispositions which were then uppermost:—Had they duly weighed and considered all this, and proceeded accordingly,—I am verily persuaded I should have made a quite different figure in the world, from that, in which the reader is likely to see me. —Laurence Sterne, Tristram Shandy (1759–1767)

20. Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. —Charles Dickens, David Copperfield (1850)

21. Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. —James Joyce, Ulysses (1922)

22. It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the house-tops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness. —Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford (1830)

23. One summer afternoon Mrs. Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupperware party whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in the fondue to find that she, Oedipa, had been named executor, or she supposed executrix, of the estate of one Pierce Inverarity, a California real estate mogul who had once lost two million dollars in his spare time but still had assets numerous and tangled enough to make the job of sorting it all out more than honorary. —Thomas Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49 (1966)

24. It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night, and the voice on the other end asking for someone he was not. —Paul Auster, City of Glass (1985)

25. Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting. —William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury (1929)

26. 124 was spiteful. —Toni Morrison, Beloved (1987)

27. Somewhere in la Mancha, in a place whose name I do not care to remember, a gentleman lived not long ago, one of those who has a lance and ancient shield on a shelf and keeps a skinny nag and a greyhound for racing. —Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote (1605; trans. Edith Grossman)

28. Mother died today. —Albert Camus, The Stranger (1942; trans. Stuart Gilbert)

29. Every summer Lin Kong returned to Goose Village to divorce his wife, Shuyu. —Ha Jin, Waiting (1999)

30. The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. —William Gibson, Neuromancer (1984)

31. I am a sick man . . . I am a spiteful man. —Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground (1864; trans. Michael R. Katz)

32. Where now? Who now? When now? —Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable (1953; trans. Patrick Bowles)

33. Once an angry man dragged his father along the ground through his own orchard. "Stop!" cried the groaning old man at last, "Stop! I did not drag my father beyond this tree." —Gertrude Stein, The Making of Americans (1925)

35. It was like so, but wasn't. —Richard Powers, Galatea 2.2 (1995)

36. —Money . . . in a voice that rustled. —William Gaddis, J R (1975)

37. Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself. —Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway (1925)

38. All this happened, more or less. —Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five (1969)

39. They shoot the white girl first. —Toni Morrison, Paradise (1998)

40. For a long time, I went to bed early. —Marcel Proust, Swann's Way (1913; trans. Lydia Davis)

41. The moment one learns English, complications set in. —Felipe Alfau, Chromos (1990)

42. Dr. Weiss, at forty, knew that her life had been ruined by literature. —Anita Brookner, The Debut (1981)

43. I was the shadow of the waxwing slain / By the false azure in the windowpane; —Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire (1962)

44. Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. —Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937)

45. I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story. —Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome (1911)

46. Ages ago, Alex, Allen and Alva arrived at Antibes, and Alva allowing all, allowing anyone, against Alex's admonition, against Allen's angry assertion: another African amusement . . . anyhow, as all argued, an awesome African army assembled and arduously advanced against an African anthill, assiduously annihilating ant after ant, and afterward, Alex astonishingly accuses Albert as also accepting Africa's antipodal ant annexation.  —Walter Abish, Alphabetical Africa (1974)

48. He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. —Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea (1952)

49. It was the day my grandmother exploded. —Iain M. Banks, The Crow Road (1992)

50. I was born twice: first, as a baby girl, on a remarkably smogless Detroit day in January of 1960; and then again, as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan, in August of 1974. —Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex (2002)

51. Elmer Gantry was drunk. —Sinclair Lewis, Elmer Gantry (1927)

52. We started dying before the snow, and like the snow, we continued to fall. —Louise Erdrich, Tracks (1988)

53. It was a pleasure to burn. —Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 (1953)

54. A story has no beginning or end; arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead. —Graham Greene, The End of the Affair (1951)

55. Having placed in my mouth sufficient bread for three minutes' chewing, I withdrew my powers of sensual perception and retired into the privacy of my mind, my eyes and face assuming a vacant and preoccupied expression. —Flann O'Brien, At Swim-Two-Birds (1939)

59. It was love at first sight. —Joseph Heller, Catch-22 (1961)

61. I have never begun a novel with more misgiving. —W. Somerset Maugham, The Razor's Edge (1944)

62. Once upon a time, there was a woman who discovered she had turned into the wrong person. —Anne Tyler, Back When We Were Grownups (2001)

63. The human race, to which so many of my readers belong, has been playing at children's games from the beginning, and will probably do it till the end, which is a nuisance for the few people who grow up. —G. K. Chesterton, The Napoleon of Notting Hill (1904)

64. In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since. —F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1925)

65. You better not never tell nobody but God. —Alice Walker, The Color Purple (1982)

66. "To be born again," sang Gibreel Farishta tumbling from the heavens, "first you have to die." —Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses (1988)

67. It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York. —Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (1963)

68. Most really pretty girls have pretty ugly feet, and so does Mindy Metalman, Lenore notices, all of a sudden. —David Foster Wallace, The Broom of the System (1987)

69. If I am out of my mind, it's all right with me, thought Moses Herzog. —Saul Bellow, Herzog (1964)

70. Francis Marion Tarwater's uncle had been dead for only half a day when the boy got too drunk to finish digging his grave and a Negro named Buford Munson, who had come to get a jug filled, had to finish it and drag the body from the breakfast table where it was still sitting and bury it in a decent and Christian way, with the sign of its Saviour at the head of the grave and enough dirt on top to keep the dogs from digging it up. —Flannery O'Connor, The Violent Bear it Away (1960)

71. Granted: I am an inmate of a mental hospital; my keeper is watching me, he never lets me out of his sight; there's a peephole in the door, and my keeper's eye is the shade of brown that can never see through a blue-eyed type like me. —Gunter Grass, The Tin Drum (1959; trans. Ralph Manheim)

72. When Dick Gibson was a little boy he was not Dick Gibson. —Stanley Elkin, The Dick Gibson Show (1971)

74. She waited, Kate Croy, for her father to come in, but he kept her unconscionably, and there were moments at which she showed herself, in the glass over the mantel, a face positively pale with the irritation that had brought her to the point of going away without sight of him. —Henry James, The Wings of the Dove (1902)

75. In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains. —Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms (1929)

77. He was an inch, perhaps two, under six feet, powerfully built, and he advanced straight at you with a slight stoop of the shoulders, head forward, and a fixed from-under stare which made you think of a charging bull.  —Joseph Conrad, Lord Jim (1900)

78. The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.  —L. P. Hartley, The Go-Between (1953)

80. Justice?—You get justice in the next world, in this world you have the law. —William Gaddis, A Frolic of His Own (1994)

81. Vaughan died yesterday in his last car-crash. —J. G. Ballard, Crash (1973)

82. I write this sitting in the kitchen sink. —Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle (1948)

83. "When your mama was the geek, my dreamlets," Papa would say, "she made the nipping off of noggins such a crystal mystery that the hens themselves yearned toward her, waltzing around her, hypnotized with longing." —Katherine Dunn, Geek Love (1983)

86. It was just noon that Sunday morning when the sheriff reached the jail with Lucas Beauchamp though the whole town (the whole county too for that matter) had known since the night before that Lucas had killed a white man. —William Faulkner, Intruder in the Dust (1948)

89. I am an American, Chicago born—Chicago, that somber city—and go at things as I have taught myself, free-style, and will make the record in my own way: first to knock, first admitted; sometimes an innocent knock, sometimes a not so innocent. —Saul Bellow, The Adventures of Augie March (1953)

90. The towers of Zenith aspired above the morning mist; austere towers of steel and cement and limestone, sturdy as cliffs and delicate as silver rods. —Sinclair Lewis, Babbitt (1922)

91. I will tell you in a few words who I am: lover of the hummingbird that darts to the flower beyond the rotted sill where my feet are propped; lover of bright needlepoint and the bright stitching fingers of humorless old ladies bent to their sweet and infamous designs; lover of parasols made from the same puffy stuff as a young girl's underdrawers; still lover of that small naval boat which somehow survived the distressing years of my life between her decks or in her pilothouse; and also lover of poor dear black Sonny, my mess boy, fellow victim and confidant, and of my wife and child. But most of all, lover of my harmless and sanguine self. —John Hawkes, Second Skin (1964)

92. He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad. —Raphael Sabatini, Scaramouche (1921)

94. In the town, there were two mutes and they were always together. —Carson McCullers, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter (1940)

96. Time is not a line but a dimension, like the dimensions of space. —Margaret Atwood, Cat's Eye (1988)

99. They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did. —Jean Rhys, Wide Sargasso Sea (1966)

100. The cold passed reluctantly from the earth, and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretched out on the hills, resting. —Stephen Crane, The Red Badge of Courage (1895)

[ao3feed-stucky]

by Cyber_Grape_aka_Jay

Melody Clara Rose "Ace" McShane had well...A lot going for her. The Niece of the Doctor (And the Master but she doesn't like talking about it), Discovered she wasn''t human when she was ten, watched her parents brutally murdered when she was 13, died for the first time at 14, unlocked a mysterious power at 15 and accidentally led to the creation of a murderous species at the same time

When she was 250 she regenerated for the first time, after a near catastrophic multi-dimensional ending event. Dying with her Uncle, Her best friends and Sherlock.

Fifteen years later, at 265, she's lived a relatively strange life as a half human, half Galifreyan, Time Lord/Lady, interdimensional Goddess ect, so...might as well write them down!

(Note, these are mostly oneshots, with an over arching plot, where Ace is either in the foreground, background or was just...Told it... I hope you enjoy!)

Words: 375, Chapters: 1/10, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of The Strange and Confusing Life of a half Gallifreyan named Ace

Fandoms: Doctor Who (2005), Supernatural, Sherlock (TV), Superwholock - Fandom, The Umbrella Academy (TV), Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Torchwood, Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other

Characters: Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Original Character(s) - Character, Patrick Stump, Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Gabriel (Supernatural), Pete Wentz, Andy Hurley, Joe Trohman, Frank Iero, Ray Toro, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Jenny Flint, Madam Vastra, Jenny (Doctor Who: The Doctor's Daughter), Yasmin Khan, Graham O'Brien, Ryan Sinclair, Avengers Team (MCU), The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy)

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness/Everyone, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Jenny Flint/Madame Vastra, Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz, Andy Hurley/Joe Trohman, Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Brendon Urie/Dallon Weekes, Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Andy Hurley/Patrick Stump/Joe Trohman/Pete Wentz

Additional Tags: Pretty much just oneshots with my oc's, Supernatural Elements, Angst, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Music, Vampire Pete Wentz, Alternate Universe - A Little Less Sixteen Candles (Music Video), Werewolf Patrick Stump, murders, Time Travel, Interdimensional Travel, Narnia