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calufraxI'll try my best to squeeze in one more rec after this, but not too sure about my odds of fitting in the time. If this is my last, then thank you for having me! I'm not usually a vocal participant in online communities, often quite content to silently lurk, but this has been a blast. Hope you've enjoyed the recs this week!
Story: Harmony (a Doctor Who Novella)
Author: thebunnyinthetardis
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 60,264
Author's Summary: The Slow Path had never been as agonizing as now. Years had passed since that fateful day when the Doctor had left him with Rose Tyler on a desolate beach in Norway. Years for both of them--and while life had gone on, he was reasonably sure his had not been the fairy tale the Time Lord might have intended it to be. Now, as fate would have it, their paths were once more to cross, leading them on a journey through Time, a journey in Space, and a journey toward Wholeness. A voice he cannot identify calls. A 17th century cannon ball lands in the garden. A blue box he never thought he would see again lands in the forest. And a Time Lord is running out of Time.
Characters/Pairings: Eleventh Doctor, metacrisis Doctor, Rose Tyler, and the other usual suspects
Warnings: Swearing
Recced because: A few of thebunnyinthetardis' works have been recced, and for good reason. She's an excellent writer. The voice she uses for the metacrisis Doctor is unique, and the perspective she brings to his character is moving, enlightening, and rings true in every aspect. It's a painful journey, but it doesn't stagnate and wallow in angst, and is an excellent adventure romp as well as wickedly insightful character development.
This is another long fic, but most of the fics I read are long ones. I love authors who take the characters on a journey that progresses them beyond what we know and already love about them, and the longer format really gives authors space to play. In this particular story, thebunnyinthetardis starts with a mystery and artfully feeds us hints and clues in amongst the adventure, building the background of what has transpired in the metacrisis Doctor's life. It's beautifully done, and the anticipation made me race through the story the first time, and then I went back to re-read it leisurely. I have a great appreciation for the care and attention she pays to environment, atmosphere, and characterization, and there is more than enough meat in this story to bear up to several re-readings.
There are many TenToo/Rose stories - it's a dime-a-dozen genre in New Who fics, but it's an understandably rich area of canon to mine. This one is very special and worth a read, even if you're a bit tapped out on the genre. My eternal pet peeve is the blithe idealisation of the Doctor's transition to humanity and his relationship with Rose, and I'm much more taken with this gritty, honest take. It's harsh but hopeful, and the adventure plot makes it a very true-to-Who story. All around a great read.
Excerpt:
Starlight filled his eyes, the radiance of a billion, billion suns performing their intricate, cosmic dance just for him. He floated free, turning gently, straying further and further into the shimmering reaches of Space and Time, engulfed at last in the splendour of the Medusa Cascade…
Someone spoke his name.
He blinked. The vast expanse of space was gone, replaced by the rotating blur of ceiling fan blades churning a gentle breeze against his skin. Moonlight played at the open window, the towering walnut tree outside casting long shadows across the far wall of the bedroom.
His bedroom. The room he and Rose had shared when this was their home. How long ago that now seemed.
The storm had dissipated, leaving behind the tangy scent of autumn. Gutter tea, he’d heard it called. He rather liked that. Human beings. They still amazed him. Who else in all the galaxy could put a poetic spin on rotting foliage? He had enjoyed more than his share of that aroma, having walked miles in a downpour. It was that or call for help and calling for help still wasn‘t in his nature.
He’d misplaced the Jeep. Again. And he‘d disengaged the GPS. Again. Special Op’s at Torchwood’s main branch in London claimed it was a security measure, but he couldn‘t abide being tracked that way, like a tagged animal in the wild. The mutant Time Lord, stalking aliens across what he still fondly referred to as Pete’s World. Or simply off on a lark. Granted, the missing GPS complicated things when it was time to close up shop. The Jeep didn’t beckon like the Tardis, his Time Ship, and apparently a reliable Chameleon Circuit was standard issue because it blended into its surroundings so well that he never seemed to be able to locate it when he needed it. Surely it would turn up. It always did. Almost always. But Pete Tyler--boss, benefactor, and father-in-law all rolled into one--had seemed decidedly unamused to see him walking through the side gate earlier instead of driving. He was quick to produce the key from his pocket as a sort of peace offering, but Pete only planted his face in both hands and strode away, muttering
some of the more colourful expletives in the English language.
Compared to saving the Earth from the threat of the Yugglorrh Transperion, another lost Jeep was of little consequence, but he
admitted it was having a negative impact on insurance premiums. Not good. Especially now with the economy being in the dustbin. Besides, they still hadn’t forgiven him for that unfortunate incident with the zeppelin.
At least this time he hadn’t phoned from the Embassy in Czechoslovenia, requesting transport (and diplomatic immunity), though, as he was wont to do, he had wandered off yesterday with scarcely enough money for chips, let alone cab fare from Scotland. Yesterday? No, no, no. That wasn’t right at all. It was longer than that. A week, then. Three at most. The seasons had yet to change and no matter how distracted he became he had never missed Christmas.
Could it be helped that he was as drawn to Trouble as Trouble was to him? Raising a ruckus, Jackie Tyler called it. Pete was less delicate than his wife on that matter, but dutifully did any damage control necessitated by his latest exploits. Not that it was intentional. Well, not usually. Well… all right, he admitted to himself, sometimes it was quite deliberate but not without provocation. Mostly. Still, it had been a long hike from Aberdeenshire, even after hitching a lift here and there. Maybe he talked too much. The last lorry driver hadn’t even waited for the next lay-by.
Blimey, he was tired. Still. He had arrived at the Taylors’ home bone weary. Weary enough, even, to bypass a proper sit down (aside from pinching a few slices of Sunday roast and four ginger snaps) and go straight to sleep. But not too weary to dream. And in his dreams he was always coming home. The first home he had had in, oh, too many years to count. All walls and floors and carpets. Where else could he go, really? Not Pete Tyler’s posh penthouse flat at Torchwood Towers where his celebrity status had long since evaporated but he was nonetheless at the mercy of those wanting too much of his time. Time he no longer had in unlimited--or almost unlimited--quantities. Nor did he feel he could go to the big old house in Scotland where he had spent the better part of his years on this world. Rose was there, patiently awaiting his eventual return. He had made it nearly to the doorstep this time. He just couldn’t find it in himself to stay.
Still trying to outdistance your nightmares, old son? Old habits and all that.
Story: Harmony (a Doctor Who Novella)
Author: thebunnyinthetardis
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 60,264
Author's Summary: The Slow Path had never been as agonizing as now. Years had passed since that fateful day when the Doctor had left him with Rose Tyler on a desolate beach in Norway. Years for both of them--and while life had gone on, he was reasonably sure his had not been the fairy tale the Time Lord might have intended it to be. Now, as fate would have it, their paths were once more to cross, leading them on a journey through Time, a journey in Space, and a journey toward Wholeness. A voice he cannot identify calls. A 17th century cannon ball lands in the garden. A blue box he never thought he would see again lands in the forest. And a Time Lord is running out of Time.
Characters/Pairings: Eleventh Doctor, metacrisis Doctor, Rose Tyler, and the other usual suspects
Warnings: Swearing
Recced because: A few of thebunnyinthetardis' works have been recced, and for good reason. She's an excellent writer. The voice she uses for the metacrisis Doctor is unique, and the perspective she brings to his character is moving, enlightening, and rings true in every aspect. It's a painful journey, but it doesn't stagnate and wallow in angst, and is an excellent adventure romp as well as wickedly insightful character development.
This is another long fic, but most of the fics I read are long ones. I love authors who take the characters on a journey that progresses them beyond what we know and already love about them, and the longer format really gives authors space to play. In this particular story, thebunnyinthetardis starts with a mystery and artfully feeds us hints and clues in amongst the adventure, building the background of what has transpired in the metacrisis Doctor's life. It's beautifully done, and the anticipation made me race through the story the first time, and then I went back to re-read it leisurely. I have a great appreciation for the care and attention she pays to environment, atmosphere, and characterization, and there is more than enough meat in this story to bear up to several re-readings.
There are many TenToo/Rose stories - it's a dime-a-dozen genre in New Who fics, but it's an understandably rich area of canon to mine. This one is very special and worth a read, even if you're a bit tapped out on the genre. My eternal pet peeve is the blithe idealisation of the Doctor's transition to humanity and his relationship with Rose, and I'm much more taken with this gritty, honest take. It's harsh but hopeful, and the adventure plot makes it a very true-to-Who story. All around a great read.
Excerpt:
Starlight filled his eyes, the radiance of a billion, billion suns performing their intricate, cosmic dance just for him. He floated free, turning gently, straying further and further into the shimmering reaches of Space and Time, engulfed at last in the splendour of the Medusa Cascade…
Someone spoke his name.
He blinked. The vast expanse of space was gone, replaced by the rotating blur of ceiling fan blades churning a gentle breeze against his skin. Moonlight played at the open window, the towering walnut tree outside casting long shadows across the far wall of the bedroom.
His bedroom. The room he and Rose had shared when this was their home. How long ago that now seemed.
The storm had dissipated, leaving behind the tangy scent of autumn. Gutter tea, he’d heard it called. He rather liked that. Human beings. They still amazed him. Who else in all the galaxy could put a poetic spin on rotting foliage? He had enjoyed more than his share of that aroma, having walked miles in a downpour. It was that or call for help and calling for help still wasn‘t in his nature.
He’d misplaced the Jeep. Again. And he‘d disengaged the GPS. Again. Special Op’s at Torchwood’s main branch in London claimed it was a security measure, but he couldn‘t abide being tracked that way, like a tagged animal in the wild. The mutant Time Lord, stalking aliens across what he still fondly referred to as Pete’s World. Or simply off on a lark. Granted, the missing GPS complicated things when it was time to close up shop. The Jeep didn’t beckon like the Tardis, his Time Ship, and apparently a reliable Chameleon Circuit was standard issue because it blended into its surroundings so well that he never seemed to be able to locate it when he needed it. Surely it would turn up. It always did. Almost always. But Pete Tyler--boss, benefactor, and father-in-law all rolled into one--had seemed decidedly unamused to see him walking through the side gate earlier instead of driving. He was quick to produce the key from his pocket as a sort of peace offering, but Pete only planted his face in both hands and strode away, muttering
some of the more colourful expletives in the English language.
Compared to saving the Earth from the threat of the Yugglorrh Transperion, another lost Jeep was of little consequence, but he
admitted it was having a negative impact on insurance premiums. Not good. Especially now with the economy being in the dustbin. Besides, they still hadn’t forgiven him for that unfortunate incident with the zeppelin.
At least this time he hadn’t phoned from the Embassy in Czechoslovenia, requesting transport (and diplomatic immunity), though, as he was wont to do, he had wandered off yesterday with scarcely enough money for chips, let alone cab fare from Scotland. Yesterday? No, no, no. That wasn’t right at all. It was longer than that. A week, then. Three at most. The seasons had yet to change and no matter how distracted he became he had never missed Christmas.
Could it be helped that he was as drawn to Trouble as Trouble was to him? Raising a ruckus, Jackie Tyler called it. Pete was less delicate than his wife on that matter, but dutifully did any damage control necessitated by his latest exploits. Not that it was intentional. Well, not usually. Well… all right, he admitted to himself, sometimes it was quite deliberate but not without provocation. Mostly. Still, it had been a long hike from Aberdeenshire, even after hitching a lift here and there. Maybe he talked too much. The last lorry driver hadn’t even waited for the next lay-by.
Blimey, he was tired. Still. He had arrived at the Taylors’ home bone weary. Weary enough, even, to bypass a proper sit down (aside from pinching a few slices of Sunday roast and four ginger snaps) and go straight to sleep. But not too weary to dream. And in his dreams he was always coming home. The first home he had had in, oh, too many years to count. All walls and floors and carpets. Where else could he go, really? Not Pete Tyler’s posh penthouse flat at Torchwood Towers where his celebrity status had long since evaporated but he was nonetheless at the mercy of those wanting too much of his time. Time he no longer had in unlimited--or almost unlimited--quantities. Nor did he feel he could go to the big old house in Scotland where he had spent the better part of his years on this world. Rose was there, patiently awaiting his eventual return. He had made it nearly to the doorstep this time. He just couldn’t find it in himself to stay.
Still trying to outdistance your nightmares, old son? Old habits and all that.
no subject
Date: 2012-12-06 06:30 pm (UTC)This has some fantastic imagery, lots of emotion, and some really unexpected and hard hitting twists. I recommend it to anyone!
no subject
Date: 2012-12-06 08:07 pm (UTC)*HUGS*
no subject
Date: 2012-12-06 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-07 01:44 am (UTC)