#runaway tours

[liliavalley]

finally posting art for my trolls au that's been in the works since january!!! good lord

At 10 years old, Branch can no longer take the isolation he feels in Pop Village, and so he leaves. After a tip from some forest residents and a few full days of walking, he finally makes it to the Lonesome Flats, and finds himself under the care of Delta Dawn, who quickly realizes she'd heard about him before.

[nonetoon]

✨ Big Comic Recommendation List! ✨

I’ve been wanting to compile some of my favorite comics into one big list in no particular order for a while. Again, I just want to reiterate that I’m in no way any sort of comic critic and all of these are just books that I personally enjoy, and if they seem up your alley I hope you’ll enjoy them too!

I also want to state that these are definitely more adult oriented books and not for kids. A lot of these stories have pretty graphic violence and tackle more adult topics like sexual or physical assault, so I’ll also be putting content warnings for where it applies.

1. Afternoon at McBurger’s by Ana Galvañ

Afternoon at McBurger’s takes place in a bright, colorful future where a group of young girls finally have the opportunity to participate in the Once Party provided by McBurger’s, a fast food restaurant. The Once Party offers a fantastical opportunity for anyone who turns eleven years old: the chance to visit themselves in the future!

The limited color palette of pink, teal, and yellow make for a very nice aesthetic that lends itself to the strange, futuristic world you get just a glimpse into. For such a short story there is a lot to keep track of that makes rereading fun and I felt like I discovered something new every time I went through it again.

CW: physical abuse

2. No One Else by R. Kikuo Johnson

Another short one but is definitely one of the more impactful. No One Else is about a woman (a nurse and full time caretaker for her elderly father) and her brother (a musician who has a much more strained relationship with their father) trying to process the sudden, accidental death of their father while also looking after her son. A very honest, holds-no-punches look at family, abuse, and neglect as each character struggles to cope with this sudden situation they find themselves in.

The artwork is beautifully done and the use of blues with a splash of orange makes for a great visual impact. I’m a big fan of character driven stories, and this book provides an interesting and messy glimpse into these characters lives. Very down to earth, very honest, and nicely tied together.

CW: physical abuse

3. Birds of Maine by Michael DeForge

A fun and meandering story about a society of birds that migrated to the moon to form their own world, away from human involvement. Birds of Maine follows both a group of young birds trying to find their place in this giant, complex world as well as gives glimpses of the many different facets of bird society and how they function.

This comic gives a very funny, matter-of-fact look into the absurd world of birds! It’s overall a great read if you like world building, and it’s presented with beautiful line work, bright pops of color, and abstract shapes that make up the bustling world and characters. The story overall feels like a stroll: it generally follows along a specific story with certain characters, but isn’t afraid to wander off to other points of interest.

4. Coyote Doggirl by Lisa Hanawalt

Set in the wild west, Coyote Doggirl follows said character as she tries to escape a group of bandits after she kills their leader’s brother. Along the way she meets new allies and has to decide to confront the past she is trying desperately to get away from or keep on running. It’s a funny yet honest book set in the beauty of the desert.

The story and characters in Coyote Doggirl are both hilarious and crude, which makes the more serious and genuine moments even more impactful. The loose style of the watercolors throughout this comic perfectly match the beautiful colors of the desert landscape. This comic also has probably one of my favorite endings (which I’m not going to spoil here).

CW: nudity, sexual assault, graphic violence

5. Eight-Lane Runaways by Henry McCausland

Eight-Lane Runaways follows a group of runners participating in a marathon through a fantastical and lively world. Each have their own motivations and desires for entering the race, and we get to see how each resolves as the race goes on.

The quirky and oddball characters and their ever-changing, winding landscape go perfectly hand-in-hand. It’s always amusing when clearly bizarre fantasy worlds, characters, and events are treated very plainly within the story. The characters are simple but fun to follow along with, from a character who is a frog, to a character who follows the instructions of a magical coat, to a character simply looking for two missing cats. Along with the beautifully done artwork and sprawling pages of landscapes, it feels as though you are only getting the smallest look into this big, wild world you want to learn more about.

6. The Book Tour by Andi Watson

The Book Tour follows a rather unlucky new author as, not only is his debut book not selling well, but a string of murders is following his exact tour route, leaving all signs pointing at him as the culprit.

It’s a very dry but still incredibly entertaining and suspenseful story. It’s hilarious, quaint, and baffling to watch the poor man get hit with bad luck after bad luck, only for him to be very proper, if not completely lost, about the whole ordeal. There are also many moving parts and details going on in the background that make for a great murder mystery story, definitely deserving of a reread to connect all the pieces that might have been missed on the first read through (I know I definitely did).

7. Heaven No Hell by Michael DeForge

A collection of 17 amazing short stories looking at a variety of characters and concepts. Everything from a woman pretending to be a surgeon, a karaoke party, a family killed in a car crash, and the creation of a hypothetical child.

My favorite stories of the bunch are “One Of My Students Is A Murderer… But Which?”, “Surprise Party”, “Album”, “Road Trip”, and “Soap Opera.” All of the stories in this comic are perfectly bite-sized looks into a variety of interesting visuals and concepts that keep you engaged from segment to segment.

CW: mild nudity

8. Flavor Girls by Loïc Locatelli-Kournwsky and Angel De Santiago

In Flavor Girls, a mysterious alien ship appears in Earth’s orbit, and its passengers cause death and destruction for life on earth. Luckily, a group of women dubbed “Flavor Girls” by their fans are gifted magical, fruit themed powers that aid them in fighting off the alien army. The newest, unexpected member of the group, however, is having trouble catching up.

By far one of the most visually stunning comics I have ever read. Very, very reminiscent of Sailor Moon in its characters, aesthetic, and story. This comic has some of my favorite character designs, the alien designs in particular are extremely fun to look at. Unlike the other comics on this list, it is not a complete story but at least it gives you something to look forward to!

CW: mild graphic violence

9. Beautiful Darkness by Fabien Vehlmann and Kerascoët

Last but absolutely not least, Beautiful Darkness is a surprisingly horrifying and violent story about cute and fun looking fairy-like characters trying to survive out in the woods. The less you know going in to this comic, the better.

The incredible beauty and meticulous detail of the environment in this comic lends itself well as a stark contrast to the horrific deaths littered throughout this story. It is bizarre watching how unfeeling and unbothered these cutesy fairytale creatures are with their friends dropping around them like flies, but it’s impossible to look away. Seeing how all of it shapes and warps the genuinely kind main character, Aurora, and the darker implications going on in the background make this a must read. By far one of the best openings to any comic I have ever read.

CW: gore, body horror

(That’s all I have for now! Hope to recommend more in the future ✌️)

[kiddo-chi]

RUNAWAY AU

Silly doodle

[vintage-tigre]

The Runaways, 1978

[californiaprincessss]

Basically me

[pressure-machine]

THE KILLERS @ Ashton Gate Stadium, Bristol, 26th May 2022

[feelingsofaithless]

Rock in Rio (Lisboa, 2012) » Runaway I wanna know the answers No more lies I wanna shut the door And open up my mind

[raiiny-bay]

dressing up the boys again

[disneyparksattractionstournament]

Disney Parks Animatronic Tournament: Bracket B/Tier 2 Round 1

Luggage Scanner Droids: Star Tours - Hollywood Studios Disney World, Disneyland, Tokyo Disneyland, Disneyland Paris

Propaganda:

"He's just a silly goose that tries his best to do his job (his best is not very good) and makes cheesy jokes!"

Mickey Mouse: Mickey & Minnie's Runaway Railway - Hollywood Studios and Disneyland

Propaganda:

"He’s so cute and sings a song, loves his gf and from a tech side, responds to delays!"

(Video is already set to start at the point of the animatronic! If it doesn't, go to 7:09)

[mirrortouchedsea]

⬛⬛⬛ was seven years old when his mother died. He remembers being sad, mourning her sudden loss in the way children process death. He stayed by her bedside as she took her last breath, holding her hand and crying, begging her to stay. She loved him. She had spent her last moments making sure he knew that he wasn’t alone and never would be, as long as he could keep her in his memory. 

He remembers crying out as her casket was closed for the final time, lowered into the ground. Something snapped in him and he was begging her to stay again, begging them to not take her away. 

⬛⬛⬛ didn’t come out of his room for weeks afterwards. He sat in his room, cradling a photo of his mother in his hands. His father would leave food for him and he would eat it, never taking his eyes off the photo. 

So when his father came home after only two months of his mother being dead, ⬛⬛⬛ was not what one would call happy. Even though he’d started going back to school a few weeks ago, he wasn’t ready for someone else to take her place. Nobody else could ever be his mother. 

He got into an argument with his father that night. At seven years old, ⬛⬛⬛ decided that he couldn’t bear to live in a house with a man who could so easily replace the woman he claimed to love. He didn’t know where he was going but he took the clothes on his back, the photo of his mother, and some cash he’d been saving up and just walked out. 

He made his way to the bus stop and got on, thinking about where he would even go. He wasn’t sure he could make his way to his mother’s family on his own, as they lived on the other side of the country, and he definitely didn’t want to see his father’s family. So he stayed on the bus as long as the driver would let him stay. 

Eventually though, he did have to get off. It was sprinkling out, not enough to make him uncomfortable, but it was a sign of heavier rains to come. ⬛⬛⬛ made his way from the bus stop to a restaurant that looked like it was about to close, but still had the lights on and maybe they could give him some shelter from the rain, at least for a while. He stepped inside and stared at the workers cleaning up the dining room. They looked…concerned that a child his age was alone at night, especially in this part of town, one would say.

They asked him what he was doing out, if he lost his parents, if he was from the area. It’s not safe out here for kids like you, they told him. He doesn’t remember responding, but he must have because they shuffled him to the back of the restaurant to their boss and asked what to do with him. None of them could really afford to take a child in but he hadn’t told him where he was from or where his parents were. They suggested calling the police, but ⬛⬛⬛ started crying at the suggestion, not wanting to get them involved. I can’t go home, he told them, my father is a bad person.

The restaurant manager agreed to allow him to stay for a bit, giving him a meal on the grounds that he’d leave by the end of the week. ⬛⬛⬛ agreed, scarfing down the food like it was the best thing he’d ever eaten. 

Over the next few days, ⬛⬛⬛ bid his time by doing dishes, greeting customers, learning to read from the menu. The staff treated him kindly, but they felt distant, unsure of what to do with him, though by the time the weekend came, he hadn’t figured out where he wanted to go. A few of the staff pointed him towards an orphanage in town, but one of the cooks slipped him a one way train ticket to a few cities over, somewhere he could get out of that area, a note attached with directions on where to go to meet someone who would take him in. 

He held the ticket in his hand, scanning it as he walked through the station to the loading area, the note clutched in his hand. ⬛⬛⬛ was practically shaking as he entered the train by himself. A few adults asked if he was okay, if he knew where he was going. Yes, he said, I’m just not used to traveling by myself, but my uncle is going to meet me at my stop. That was a lie he’d rehearsed on the way there but they let him be. He had to fight himself to keep from falling asleep and missing his stop, but he must have succumbed to it at some point, as one of the adults next to him gently shook him awake as they approached his destination. He thanked them and hopped off his seat, getting ready to depart the train car and start his new life. 

He stepped onto the platform and was greeted by a bustling crowd. It was overwhelming to say the least, so many strange people just going about their day. ⬛⬛⬛ made his way to the staircase where someone came up from behind him, introduced himself as the person who would be taking care of the young boy. He could call him “Priest”, as his true name was of little importance. He asked if the young boy had a name, which the boy muttered under his breath. When asked to repeat it, he said he wished to give up his name, as he no longer wanted to be associated with the person who gave it to him. The Priest agreed with him and said they’d find a suitable name for him soon enough. There were many names in the world, but for now he’d be referred to as the Prodigal Son, or simply the Son for short. The Son found this amicable and agreed to the change. He remembers wondering what that meant, as he had never heard of the word “Prodigal” before, but he would come to understand it in due time. 

The Priest taught the Son many things, reading, writing, the history of Japan, things that he remembered being taught in school before his mother passed, but he also taught the Son many other things one would never find in a normal school. The Son learned the art of disguise, impersonation, how to manipulate his voice. Some day, the Priest had told him, he’d be called upon to use his gifts for the greater good. The Son, not knowing any better, accepted this and that his skills would be useful in the future. 

The Son went through many identities in his time studying under the Priest. His hair had been cut, extended, dyed and bleached, his eyes were a dozen different colors and none of them. He could mimic any voice after observing the speaker for ten minutes. He went by many different names, though he always came back to the Son. In due time, he forgot his father entirely, but he carried the last photo of his mother with him in his pocket wherever he went. It made him feel at ease, as if she were watching over him from the afterlife still, protecting him from the harsh realities of the world. The photo had faded with time, the wear and tear on it having almost removed her face entirely, but the Son could still picture it perfectly. It had been burned into his mind on the day he watched her take her last breath.

The Son started University at age 17, younger than many of his peers in Japan, and he graduated at age 20. It hadn’t been easy, but he had honed his skills and developed them on the stage, playing off his talents as being simply that, talent and skill, not something he had used to bring about political upheaval in the past and likely in the future. 

The Son had kept his distance at University though, going by another fake name and only attending the bare minimum of classes and extracurriculars that were required of him by the Priest. He had begun proper vocal training to learn how to sing, something that he had been told would be useful soon, though he had not been given the details, and further developed his voice by participating in several musical performances, though he still remained rather distant from the rest of the cast and crew, exchanging only the bare necessities of pleasantries and making excuses to get out of bonding time outside of scheduled practice hours. 

The Son was a lonely man, and he knew this. He knows this. He is a lonely man. He was about to turn 23 when the Priest finally told him about his newest mission. Do you remember your father, the Priest had asked over the phone. No, replied the Son, not more than I need to, anyway. So you remember you had a father, and he had another wife after you left, the Priest continued. The Son hummed in agreement, Yes I ran away because of her, you know this. Of course I do, but I just wanted to make sure, Anyway did you know he had another son with her? What do you mean by another son? I mean that you are an older brother, and your younger brother needs help. I do not want to speak to anyone else related to that man. Oh but you’ve been training to help your brother, haven’t you, he dreams of being an idol, someone who sings and dances on stage like you. Theater performances and being an idol are two different things. Yes, well it wouldn’t exactly be easy to get you to train to be an idol with no intentions on debuting, so we had to make do. Why should I help him? Out of the love in your heart for your own flesh and blood. I do not consider that old man my father, nor that boy my brother. He has a secret he needs to keep, something I’m sure you’re familiar with of course. What secret? All in due time, Son, will you help him or not? 

The Son refused to meet his brother in person for the first few months, preferring to instead communicate only by phone. He had been studying at Reimei academy, he told him, as part of the idol course. His mother loved idols, loved them so very much and it was the only memory he had of her. The Son understood his brother on that level. During their phone calls, the Son learned about his brother’s rival at the school, a boy by the name of Tatsumi Kazehaya who happened to be in the year above him. Tatsumi Kazehaya was perfect in many ways, something that his brother found infuriating. Why couldn’t he be like that? He lamented in one phone call. The Son told him that some people are simply born with talent, and Kazehaya was one of them. His brother relented and continued to update the Son on his progress. 

Despite the Son knowing his brother’s name, Kaname Tojou, his brother did not know his, instead choosing to refer to him only as “Onii-chan,” a word that grated on his ears. He was not a cute older brother to be looked up to and in fact he’d rather be doing anything else than be there, and yet. He stayed calm. Once Kaname debuted and got on his feet, the Son would fade back into the background as if he never existed. That was the plan, anyway. The Priest had told him that he would be free to do as he pleased away from his watchful eye if everything went according to plan. 

After a year of guiding his brother in the ways of being an idol, the Son wanted to see how he was progressing. Kaname hadn’t said anything about a performance, but since the Son was very good at keeping an ear to the ground, he had found out about a performance between Kaname and Tatsumi to be put on for the entire school. He wasn’t entirely sure what the purpose of that was exactly, but it would be a good time to gauge Kaname’s progress and how well he had followed the Son’s instructions. The Son made his way through the crowd, finding a spot near the front but not where Kaname could see him and he watched the empty stage, waiting for any sign of life.

The projectors came on and a video began playing, a video about the exact secret that the Son had been safeguarding even from his brother. It was a video about Kaname’s mother and how she had ruined the career of one of the best idols that had ever existed in Japan. The energy in the crowd was agitated, vibrating with anger as they waited for the two aspiring idols to take the stage. The Son wanted to run backstage, warn his brother of the impending danger, but could only watch in horror as the curtains raised and the crowd rushed forward. The Son looked on as the two young idols were yanked from the stage, a scream lost to the noise of the crowd, unable to do anything. 

When it was over, he had found himself in the hospital waiting room, pacing the length of it as he went over the potential outcome of the surgery. His brother had suffered greatly, that much was obvious to the Son as they loaded the two boys into the ambulance, but how much damage was done had yet to be seen. 

Someone approached the Prodigal Son while he was pacing and placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Thank you for coming home. 

[charlottcharles]

The Killers - Rebel Diamonds Tour - Camden, NJ 9/7/24

[jessiesjaded]

People getting super duper popular in a country outside their own but not in their own country will always be funny especially when you mention them to someone from that country and they're just like Who? And you're like HUH? YOU DONT KNOW HIM??

[kiddo-chi]

More runaway trolls au?

There is more Runaway AU coming soon! I’ve just been in a bit of a slump but I do promise to add more to my silly (not silly) AU

Here’s some sad Viv’s and J.D looking at old bro photos

[unboundtravels]

SHORT TRIPS; UNBOUNDNOVEMBER 21/23: TWILIGHT

"What about me?" "If there was something I could do about that, I would. I guess we're both just going to have to be brave."

 It feels like it’s raining. Although the clouds hang in the way of the sun, there is still an afternoon afterglow… and yet despite the months still creeping through the midst of summer, the wind is still very cold today in the city of Freedom. There is an almost unanimous silence save for the howling and the whipping of the wind… the beating of the flags that flow through the breeze. The water of the fountain is still, and the lights are low. The world almost looks distinctly colorless… absent of the cool aftertaste that’d follow a pleasant warmth. The world feels more absent today.

The People of Mondstadt did not care much for Lady Eula Lawrence. Her bloodline was responsible for many, if not most of, the issues that plagued Mondstadt so fiercely into its present. To this very day, The Knights of Favonius were working hard to clean up the mess of those who had come before. Of those Knights was Lady Lawrence, who was fiercely dedicated in her pursuit of redemption… and yet she dealt every day with the harsh whispers of those who could not separate the past from the present… those who did not understand the ever-changing nature of the human soul and its relationship to time. 

They were wrong about her. That is the truth of the matter. Eula was a beautiful soul, a kind and dedicated one. She looked out for those in need and did what she could to help the innocent. Considered by many of her allies to be a responsible friend and an excellent warrior, she was supported unconditionally by those under her command. Eula was the best of parts of Humanity condensed into one singular form… not bound by convention… solving her problems in a unique way and handling the world one day at a time. The people of Mondstadt were simply wrong about Eula Lawrence.

When the chips were down, The city of Mondstadt was threatened… when the whole of creation was threatened… Eula stepped forward, to act as a shield for her people and her home. She could’ve turned away, could’ve stood on the sidelines… but it was her nature and her responsibility to put her home first. There was no love lost between her and Mondstadt, but the fact of the matter was that there were people there who were counting on her, and she had to return. No one could fault her for that. Even if they’d fail, at least they’d fail together… and while they were together, nothing could dismay the Knights and their cause.

It feels like it’s raining.

It’s been a week since the threat of Celestia was quelled, and the people of Teyvat were freed from the confines of an oppressive destiny. The road there was not without sacrifice, however… and of those who stood and fought, not all came out intact. Among those who had fought and been claimed by the battle… was Lady Eula Lawrence. She died as she lived: Protecting those who meant the most to her. Her friends— the family she’d made after cutting ties with the clan that she’d disgraced. In the knights, she’d found new meaning and new purpose… or at least, the start of that new purpose, and she was happy. However, that would not stop her fellow Knights from mourning her loss.

The Funeral service ended an hour ago, and Outrider Amber stood near the entrance of the Favonious Headquarters, the wind biting at her skin. She wonders why it feels like it’s raining despite the absence of thunderclouds or rain. Perhaps Barbatos is allowing them to have the feeling and the sensations without the fuss. Amber is allowed to live in denial for just a bit longer, wiping away tears with her thumb as she shudders out an exhale. Despite the fact that the people of Mondstadt had cared very little about Eula, her last act of life had opened eyes and touched hearts. Everyone had been at her funeral… and she’d just escaped the fond wishes and condolences… but The Outrider’s mind was scattered.

The Captain of The Cavalry Guard and The Grandmaster had noted how distracted she’d looked… chalking it up to grief and attempting to comfort the Outrider over the loss of her friend. Although Amber had tried to explain with sincere genuineness that she was simply looking for someone in the crowd. She didn’t see him in the service, she didn’t see him in the wake, and even as the people exited the church and returned to their homes… she didn’t see him. She eventually, almost dejectedly, sat on the steps leading up to The Favonious Headquarters. A sigh escaped her, and her fingers grazed at a wooden box carefully. He was looking for The Spindrift’s companion, as Lady Lawrence had left one more thing for the one her heart belonged to. Amber was almost ready to give up until her eyes saw the crowd thinning… and there, walking toward the gate out of the city…

She was at first taken aback by the fact that she had failed to notice a man not wearing any black, wearing an outfit he’d wear as if it were any other day of the week. A green cargo jacket over a black T-shirt, fingerless cotton gloves, dark denim blue jeans, and high-top sneakers… with a messenger bag strapped across his chest. He had a sun-kissed complexion dotted with many freckles and hair that was swept into an almost bed-razzled look. The Outrider didn’t even hesitate to sprint toward him… to try and catch him before he vanished. 

“Doctor!! Doctor—!!”

She stopped at his side, expecting him to turn away… but when he turned to face her, Amber was again taken aback by The Doctor’s complexion. The Doctor was a very bright individual, usually. With Eula, he was fiery and charismatic… but also on occasion, he was icy and powerful. He clearly wasn’t of this world, and he made no attempt to hide that. She was just taken aback by how neutral his expression was. Numbness, and with eyes that sagged very low. He looked no older than twenty-three, usually. Right now, however, those eyes looked ever so ancient… as if they’d walked circles around the universe thousands of times over. Perhaps this is just genuinely what the man looked like when he was distraught, though… 

“I… didn’t see you at the service.” She started, trying to get any reaction out of him, any sort of sign that he was feeling some type of emotion. He looked like he was on autopilot, just blankly staring at her while he contemplated thousands of thoughts all in the span of a couple of microseconds. She wasn’t sure if she should really force him to stay, as he clearly was just stopping by out of respect for Eula. They had such an incredibly deep connection. In the few months before the catastrophe that recalled Eula home, The Doctor had appeared in Eula’s life almost like a sort of fairytale prince. He dropped from the sky, whisking her off into planets and skies unknown… showing her all sorts of things that defied the laws of logic and imagination. Amber knew, from the way that Eula looked at him…

It was love. In its purest form.

The Doctor needed Eula to find himself in a brave new universe, and Eula needed The Doctor to give her a home where she could truly detach from what defined her on Teyvat. The Doctor had a light in his eyes that ignited a fire within Eula’s heart. They were like sunshine, an unstoppable duo. Eula was gone though, and The Doctor was all alone, now. She saw the way that realization had cemented itself in his mind. She began to understand why The Doctor looked so numb, right now… simply by thinking it through, she saw a man who wanted to lock himself away from the world and cry because the world had become so much colder without his other half. Amber knew now that she should not keep him for long.

“She… wanted you to have this.” Amber found the words sticking in her throat, coming out through chokes. Completing this final request for Eula seemed to cement the realization in her mind that her friend was truly gone. “She—” Amber struggled to recall the details of what Eula had explained to her, about why she’d left The Doctor to return home. She was very vague, as always… but she seemed to allude to… the idea that… she had had no choice. “She knew this was very hard for you, Doctor.”

She saw his face twinge, and that was confirmation enough for her to know that he was not soulless, or on autopilot… but that he was bottling everything up to unleash in a space that was unrestricted and unjudging. She shouldn’t keep him, but she also knew that once he left… she wouldn’t see him again, and the idea of him having no one simply left her a little heartbroken. Amber choked on more words, but she forced them out simply because she knew he needed to hear it.

“She loved you very much.”

She saw another twinge in the face muscle. He acknowledged that but kept his mouth as tightly shut as he could for fear of breaking under the pressure of his own emotions. Hesitantly, he took the wooden box and wordlessly turned away from Amber. She had so much she wanted to say and yet she knew he probably already knew. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but he probably already knew that. She wanted to ask him if he was going to be okay but was sure he wouldn’t answer her. She looked for any indication that the man was going to be able to walk back from the edge and was scared to let him go because of it. Although her feet remained planted very firmly at the border of the gate… she watched that man walk toward the Police Box at the end of the bridge, entering it wordlessly.

The sounds of its engines echoed outward as The Box’s lantern began to flash… and the wind cleared so that it could fade away from reality. So many tears were slipping out, now. Amber’s hands remained clenched firmly toward her chest as she watched for a long moment as if she was waiting for something. All she could do was give a prayer to the wind that the man would be safe upon his travels, and that the spirit of freedom would follow him wherever he went. There was a light in his eyes that seemed to spread like an infectious warmth across the universe… The Outrider would be very upset if it went out… as would a great many others, as well.

The TARDIS was quiet. Its hum echoed out like the ticking of a clock in an empty room. Its lights were dimmer, the console quieter. The Wooden box was placed against one of the panels of the console as his jacket rested against the seat nearest to the console. The Doctor reached to flick for switches as the rotor in the center of the room sunk up and down. He wasn’t sure where he was going… but he was just going somewhere. His mind was buzzing with a silence that he couldn’t really describe. It was strange to be alone with his thoughts, especially when they weren’t uttering a single word. A heavy exhale left his chest through his nose as his eyes caught the box when it came into his peripheral.

He almost hesitated to reach for it, because he knew that looking beneath the hinges would cement the reality he was looking to ignore. As soon as he admitted to himself that he wanted to ignore it, he knew that he needed to face it. His hands found the box and he very slowly opened it. Neutral expressions immediately faltered beneath the weight of what the box held. Softened gaze began to tear up as brows furrowed together and a shaky hand reached in for one of the first items. His thumb traced over the glass texture of an extinguished vision. Eula carried it with her at all times… how could he not recognize it? His head tilted softly. It wasn’t indifferent to holding someone’s heart in your hands…

He slid the vision into his pocket, reaching back into the box to pull out the crest of her family. The Doctor had learned much about his human companion to learn about the crest of the Lawrence family, and how much weight it had carried. The fact that she left it for him seemed like a solemn admission that she had wished for more from him. His face softened again as he began to feel pain in his hearts over all the what-ifs that he’d missed. He wasn’t an idiot… he knew that what he’d had with Eula was more than intimate… but he began to feel pain in his chest over all the missed opportunities to tell her just how much she’d meant to him. Pressing the crest to his upper lip softly, he repressed more choked winces as he looked back into the box. 

This next item nearly killed him. He almost hesitated to grab it. Inside the box was a Cecilia that had wilted deeply since she’d given it to him. He knew that he’d kept it close by on the TARDIS, but she must’ve found it and taken it away with her into battle. Now she wanted it to return to its rightful owner. The Doctor’s face had sunken into something so low and deep now that his head felt like it had a weight. When he touched the Cecilia flower, he had to immediately put the box down. It was sort of like touching something that had gone from warm to cold… the realization that there was no more life within an object was cemented by that transition.

The Doctor exhaled, shakily. Tears had begun streaming down his face as he looked toward the rotor. There was silence as he kept his eyes away from anything aside from The Cecilia because looking back at it reminded him of their last conversation. Heal yourself. The memories of every moment he’d ever cherished with The Lady Lawrence crept into his mind and seemed to make every passing second more and more painful… and the tears came down in an abundance that left him a bit blind from the blurry vision. He wiped away the tears with the base of his palm and slid the flower into the control panel of the TARDIS. With his hands empty, he just stared up at the TARDIS rotor and let the tears stream down until he could get a handle on himself. Sometimes he’d stop, thinking that his emotions had finally calmed, only for them to start again. So there was a long silence, where The Doctor stood in silence over the controls and felt his eyes darting across the console room before eventually, he felt himself restraining enough to at least sink back into numbness. He heaved another sigh before he moved to look at where the monitor was taking him. His fingers traced against the vision in his pocket for a moment as his thumb flicked through the monitor’s scans. He needed to just… get back on the road, again. His eyes caught Cecilia again and eventually he just… stared off, again…. Toward the wall. The room felt much emptier without her, and when the realization that Eula Lawrence was truly gone sunk in…

The Console room was deafeningly quiet now. Save for the sound of the engines and the distant sound of the hum. He exhaled, looking down at the controls. History was repeating itself. Of course, it was. It always did. For a moment, sorrow melts into a deeper resentment of himself. The Timelord rests one hand in his pocket whilst he flips various switches and twists various dials before the second hand is deposited into his opposite pocket, and he's left just staring.

Imagine having the power to change whole moments of history. To alter the very fabric of reality. Imagine having the power to move heaven and earth for ordinary people... but never being able to use that power to save the people who really matter the most to you. Imagine being left with a gaping hole in your chest every time you re-enter this console room by yourself, knowing the home someone else had made for themselves was within yours... and realizing that life has just gone back to the bitterness of what it had been before.

The last time he was alone, he was wearing someone else's face. He had made connections, gained new titles, and lost just as much. He'd endured pain, suffering, and heartache. He'd seen the top of the mountain, breathed the clean air of victory, and lived out a wild dream of passion and joy.

Only for it to be back to how it was when he was at the bottom of the barrel. He'd done so much to come to peace with what had happened, with where he'd gone and what he'd done. He'd regained his title, come to terms with his fate, and he'd even conquered destiny itself. Or at least, he thought he had. Never had he been so humbled before, and the price of his arrogance was this.

The loneliness.

This is what it feels like to be The Doctor. Not the joy or the happiness of the never-ending thrill, but the crushing lonely bitter sadness that comes afterward. The sound of silence in a place people once called their home ringing through your ears. The pain of knowing that you had the power to save the people you cared about, but choosing to do your duty as the last of your kind instead. To maintain the web of time. Humbled again by the beast you'd thought you'd conquered: time. This is what it means to be The Last of The Timelords. Everlasting loneliness throughout all of time and space.

All he can do is endure. It's all he has left. 

He exhales, heavily.

"Goodbye, Spindrift." He remarks as he leaves another chapter of his life behind. 

There'll never be another like you. 

[per-asperaa-ad-astra]

The Greatest Of All Time. Simple as that.