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Doctor Who: Things She Thought Were Most unfair [Fanfiction]

“I’m ready, I want to be at home with my grandson” he says, a look of longing in his eyes, longing for home comforts, longing for quality time spent with loved ones.

Or was it longing for the opportunities he was about to miss out on?

I can’t help but smile, I can’t help but be moved, because I know it’s not the latter, he’s leaving for the right reasons; he’s leaving for just reasons.

He’s leaving our fam to be with his own.

This is it, this was properly it

Oh blimey, now what am I going to do?

Of all the people to turn me down, turn all this down, why him?

If I were a little less kind, a little less tolerant, I would be cursing out Ryan Sinclair right now for not speaking out about this, to convince Graham to stay, that he’s his own man with his own life to lead. Graham has so much more of the universe to see before he slips away.

I can’t tell when that’ll be, I can’t tell when the cancer will take hold of him again, all I know is I’ve lost my window to remind him every day that he should not let that scare him out of doing anything extraordinary.

Yaz tells him she’s going to miss him, she’ll miss him far more than she thinks, and I’ll miss the calming influence he has on her. I feel young Yasmine will be quite a handful to me going forward if that shove from earlier in the mission was any indication.

She seems so possessive, she’s afraid of letting go, like I’m all that tethers her to some meaningful purpose in life.

It’s not fair, I tell the universe, why must I carry on while everyone stays behind? As it pertains to Yaz, just why do I need to bear this burden of personal responsibility? Is it some kind of karmic punishment for defying the will of The Judoon? For escaping their justice?

Am I being told to grow a little? Maybe a lot?

Can’t help but think these thoughts, they always course through me whenever situations like this arise; I’m left wondering what I could have done to make things right, or different.

Oh no, now he wants a hug. That’s certainly different.

Still, it might just be one of the few things I can do right by him in this situation.

Were it not for social awkwardness, it’d be more than a hug.

My face tells the whole story, a long drawn out feature made of missed opportunity and wasted time, how inappropriate given my very calling as a time and space traveller.

He thanks me for everything…no, dearest Graham, thank you.

He prepares to leave; I can’t let him go, not after receiving a taste of his warmth, of his generosity, of his love.

I beckon him over and we all come together in one last unified circle of friendship and family, our arms wrapped tightly around each other’s waists, I hold Graham closest to me, his immediate present about to become my inevitable past, and I would no longer be a part of his future.

“Bye fam” I say.

And then he goes, Ryan in tow, and we’re alone.

Yaz is with me, but whether or not she truly is altogether there will be for our time together to decide.

For now, I am left with my thoughts.

And all I can think of is just how unfair it all is.

Is love ever fair?

Doctor Who: Intermission Impossible [Fanfiction]

It would be so easy to stop if they were there. The children.

All huddled ’round him, some hiding behind the sofa, but fear not, he would coax you out with the voice of assurance, but maybe not greet you quite with a smile.

You see, he was a little scared too, just as they would be.

Suppose they were here though. Whatever would he say to them?

Suppose they were all there watching him at this very moment, interrupting him at this most delicate and desperate of hours, where the slightest distraction or indulgence in pretence could result in a costly fate, for him, and his friends, even the very Earth and the way of life for all of civilisation as he and his companions knew it.

And he imagines, for the audience that wasn’t there also.

But then, his very imagination was what was most concerning him.

Imagining just one singular child, aged no lesser than four, wandering the rail way tracks, seeking her friends who were hidden from her sight, and she found this hapless little hobo attempting a meekly sort of sprint along the tracks of the vast subterranean London Underground rail system.

And she sits herself down next to him. Right there, on the tracks, playing with her fingers, nibbling them with her delicate teeth, twisting and twirling the curls in her hair, waiting for this man to say something and justify his presence to him.

Imagine that child was several.

Confound it all, there was that problem again, the imagination running away from The Doctor, and the farthest it could possibly be from control. It wasn’t content to satisfying less.

How does he react to this?

Let him think now child, let him think. Don’t stare.

He thinks, he muses, and in a fleeting moment of quiet, having lost himself on the rail tracks of the London Underground, he commits to the pretence. He would dare the distraction.

If only because he’s put enough distance between him and his enemies to indulge his habit.

He has earned this. A little play to broaden the mind, to compliment the work.

To satisfy the child not just in him, and perhaps, if there were anyone in the heavens or beyond watching, to satisfy the child in all of them or any that belong to them too.

He would feign fright at first, to give the invisible children some form and substance, to heighten his anxiety in a manner not even fit for calm. Part of the dare was the confidence to be as bombastic as possible.

He would remind this audience that there was a back-story, and placed his current circumstances as something further along in his future…for the children, the story hadn’t happened yet, it was all yet to come, that would give him an apt opportunity to determine whether or not he would survive the ordeal, and if he did not, well, the children would only know of what happened when he was alive, and imagine the rest. Indeed, he would go on living in their own minds.

He was starting to wonder if the increase in anxiety and the belief the net was tightening around him were cutting off the oxygen to his brain.

Children of his imagination have imaginations too? Dream state within dream state? It was a fascinating puzzle, one he had no time to immediately solve with any form of attentiveness.

After all, every infant in life comes from nothing and everything all at once.

If they were real, if they perhaps become real someday, then all of what he had thought of just before would form part of what he had to say

And this is how he’d say it.

“Oh, oh thank goodness, it’s you, I thought for one moment it was…ah, well let me sit down for a moment here, I’m glad I met you as a matter of fact, there’s something I want to tell you, when we start out on our next adventure, Jaime, and Victoria, and I, we meet some old friends, yes, but we also meet some old enemies. Very old enemies, the Yeti as a matter of fact, and this time, they’re just a little bit more frightening than the last time. So I warn you, if your mummy and daddy are scared, you just get them to hold your hand”

He clasped his hands together to make a sharp and audible noise, and this drew the attention of The Yeti as they came charging down the tunnel.

“Oh, got to go, see you soon” he said, panicking, he got to his feet and dashed off.

Confound it all, this is why I have no time for intermission he thought.

There are evils present that act against everything I believe in. They must be fought.

And so, he bids the children who aren’t there, a very fond goodnight.

Doctor Who: Hell Bent-Another Fanedit

It’s December, that means Christmas, that means Doctor Who.

…Or rather not, as the Beeb have once again stuck it on New Year’s Day where it will be demolished by families having hang overs and Coronation Street.

So what do we do in the meantime? Well, good news, today, on the 1st of December, and then on December 25th, two unique edits are coming your way….as both have the same ending.

I was never a big fan of series ten of the show, despite it being a firm favourite with the majority of the Capaldi era’s fanbase, and I often though the immeasurably flawed but criminally underlooked ‘Hell Bent’ would have made for a worthy conclusion to both Moffat and Nu Who’s run at the top . Series 9 to me is my third favourite series of Nu Who next to series five and four…it’s sole issues are the dire Girl Who Died and Husbands of River Song

Ah, but that ending of ‘Husbands’…that ending is perfect. A sublime cap to the ongoing frustration that was the Doctor and River Song’s love story, if only they had The Doctor say ’26 years’ instead of ’24’, and if only the Beeb had waited 26 of those years before relaunching the show afterwards!

So for this edit of Hell Bent, my third such attempt at a take on the series 9 finale, all I’ve done is alter the very end so after Clara and Ashildr drop off The Doctor, he heads off to the singing tower on that fateful date with River, with a couple of additional trims to leave out Nardole and the other guy.

As for which episode will use the ending a second time…well, come Christmas Day 2020: The Doctor Falls No More!

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Doctor Who Unauthorized: We Are Not Over There

Unauthorized Short Trips is the first book from PLANET MONDAS PUBLISHING, it comprises thirteen short stories centered on something that’s a little dear to me…and something that is most assuredly ‘over there’ in terms of fan reception….namely Thraham, the pairing coined by the few fans in support of it for The Doctor and Graham.

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Coming Soon

Coming to both the Planet Mondas Discussion Forum and this very site. A collection of short Doctor Who stories written entirely by me. Some are prior works, and some are brand new to the collection.

I hope to have it drop on December 23rd or 25th

  1. Meet Me At The Station
  2. Intermission Impossible (NEW)
  3. Keep Your House In Order
  4. Forever Late Than Never
  5. The Man I Was
  6. A Good & Beautiful Fairy (NEW)
  7. In Service of the Daleks (NEW)
  8. Wheezing, Groaning Sound
  9. Count The Children
  10. How The Snake Was Released From Its’ Tail
  11. Good Men
  12. Vanity Issues
  13. That New Familiar Feeling (NEW)

Doctor Who: How The Snake Was Released From It’s Tail (Fanfiction)

(Tie-In story for the “Time Lord Victorious”, please read Titan Comics “Defender of the Daleks” and watch “The Waters of Mars” and the novel “The Knight, The Fool, And The Dead”)

The Doctor took a gentle step forward, leaving a footprint in the molten snow.

He had reached his destination, he was sure of it. The ember pits of Snodoke.

He withstood the smouldering and intense heat of the triple sunsets, even as day turned in briefest seconds to night before they rose again, an indecisive orbit, it required a fool’s errand to endure.

Was The Doctor playing that fool? Many had died because of the act once before, but now no one else would die this day in creation, not now or any other day that graced his gaze.
Night would fall on the many no more. The sun would rise for everyone and for all time.

A tall volcanic mountain, a sight so familiar to the Doctor through childhoods past, from beyond an infinite set of lifetimes, stood before him.

Standing to his opposite side was a circular temple in the shape of an ouroboros snake. Its jaw wedged in its own tail. Symbolising eternity, symbolising, to the Doctor, a way of things he sought to unravel.

These pits contained of the last great super weapons conceived in the twilight of the Dark Times, the Hondraiser. A device capable of undoing what can never be undone, keeping the doorway to eternity firmly shut, yet leaving but one way open.

A safe passage to death. No harm, no pain, no taxing mental or physical compromise. Just release.

The Hondraiser was developed by those who challenged the way of the universe as it had evolved to that point, to see no need for life after a time, to cease all manner of suffering, an ongoing price paid for the folly of unspeakable atrocity committed by those who breathed in a galaxy’s worth of ash.

This device would revive, exclusively, those who bared the burden of the great threshold, the creatures that sought to silence the screams they could no longer afford to absorb and cry when those voices they belonged were silenced for all time. The sound of silence, the one voice they could never afford to have.
The Hond.

That is, until The Doctor crossed their pathway, and granted them their own unique silence, a painless passage to the next life. And now he had to ensure they stayed at rest.
It was a quandary that played on the current state of his soul…why would he wish to spare them from life if his present mission was to hold back death for all time? Why not grant them a light to guide them through the memory of times so dark to them?

Surely their imprint on the universe would be a stark reminder to all that the time lord victorious can never be truly wrong.

But maybe that was the point.

He had yet to relinquish the universe of pain, and it was through the suffrage inflicted on souls was what gave the Hond their grudge against all who dwell in the galaxy.

A race cursed by pain, inflicting that pain on others, a reminder of travesties that would be finally put to rest.

If he gave them life anew, he might as well snuff out all hope, it would be wrong of him, the time lord victorious is never wrong, that there is no one to stop him, no one to hold him back, no one to tell him his way, his law of time, is an affront.

Nothing but that.

Nothing. But. That.

The Doctor stood between the mountain and the snake; he produced his trusty sonic screwdriver, and held it high above his head. He pressed his finger delicately on the third setting.

The vibrations rocked the planet to and fro, the Doctor, in a physically taxing bout of defiance, did all he could to stand his ground. The temple collapsed, the volcano erupted, the lava spilled.

The Doctor inspected the wreckage while he could; his time was short as the lava raced towards him.

The Doctor was satisfied.

The Hondraiser was no more.

When the future is born, and they were old enough to join the wisest of men in the dead of winter, at the end of another wonderful year, in preparation for the beginning of yet another golden tomorrow, they will ask just what the precise moment was when those wisest among them realised that peace was assured for eternity in the universe? A universe free not just of pain, but the constant reminder of it?

And those wise men would say, as irony would have it, when the jaw was released from its tail.

Doctor Who: Black Tie [Fanfiction]

 

Yasmin Khan couldn’t believe the state the TARDIS console room was in. More to the point, she couldn’t believe she had taken time out of her day off to check in on her friend and mentor as she fumbled her way through the TARDIS wardrobe, leaving piles of discarded clothes laying across the floor, some had even found their way onto the centre columns.

Yaz gasped as her keen sense of smell starting picking up whiffs of something burning, she kicked aside some fur coats to reach the source of the smoke that was forming.

The Doctor’s head peered out the small changing room, catching a glimpse of Yaz’s activities.

“Here, careful with that, they’re the latest fashions from Spyradon” The Doctor spoke,

“You’ve left the iron on. Again, it’s burning a hole in one of your shirts”

“I know, it’s all by design, brilliant isn’t it?”

“No it’s not brilliant, that’s a perfectly fine looking shirt and it’s ruined now, what were you thinking?”

“Depends, I do a lot of thinking, like whether or not Graham’s kept his sights on the schedule”

“And what do you mean by that?” Yaz asked, her arms folded, tapping one of them with an index finger rather frantically. Her patience running thinner and thinner.

“Tell me he knows when the Hatton Road bus is due?”

“7: 39…and no, Doctor, that’s not in the morning, how many times have I told you not to go by military time?”

“I can’t keep count of those times, they slip in between the cracks of history, I stick more closely to those”

“Doctor, he’s not going to forget the schedules. He used to be a driver remember? He keeps tabs on all the timetables, even now; it’s a hobby between him and his mates”

“It’s just; we’re doing this all his way this time, no reliance on this old snog box”

Yaz broke out into an uncontrollable giggle.

“Snog box?”

“That one didn’t come from me, it came from a friend, and it’s quite a fetching title at this stage in our little drama together” The Doctor replied.

“You shouldn’t treat your dates like they’re a constant drama” Yaz insisted.

“Everything in my life is a drama, I’m not wired to think any way differently…life is so rich with complexity, even the simplest things follow convoluted rules and restrictions…take this restaurant we’re going to, yeah? Black tie…where am I going to find a tie at such short notice? A chap called Turlough wore out pretty much all of them back when he travelled with me. Only time he didn’t have any on was when he headed off back to Trion”

Yaz shared with her friend some words of wisdom, which she had meticulously formed during this phase of The Doctor’s ranting. Perhaps being around her for so long had also helped piece together both the right temper and fluidity of this advice.

“Everything is a process, the point is to enjoy yourself when you sort all that out, then you can look back on all this worry, all this drama if you will, and laugh about it with Graham when the two of you have dinner. Drama makes good conversations, you’ll be at it all evening, trust me”

The Doctor emerged from the dressing room chambers, Yaz reacted with some surprise, she also felt like she shouldn’t be all that shocked, but her mind was drifting more in favour of the situation presenting itself within an hour’s time for the Doctor and Graham.

“Are you…are you really going out like that?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing it’s just…so typically you. I thought you’d strive to be a bit more…feminine for once, you know, so you wouldn’t have to worry so much about black tie”

Yaz’s phone started ringing; she took a moment to answer it.

“Hello? Yes, oh…oh of course, yeah, she’ll be on her way shortly. Just for FOMO, what’s exactly the time right now? 6:55? And is the schedule still good for you two? Yeah, yeah I see…ok, not bad, I’ll let her know. Yes…yes, I know she has a time machine, that doesn’t mean she keeps track of any on odd occasions”

Yaz switched the phone off and turned back to The Doctor.

“That was him?” The Doctor asked.

“That was him, don’t worry, if you make it to where he is, you’ll be early” Yaz assured her.

“What did he say about the schedule?”

“The bus will be running two minutes late”

The Doctor punched the air with a sense of triumph.

“Ah, so the schedule couldn’t keep track of HIM, that’s better, I like it when time becomes your enemy, gives you another reason to head on out there and make yourself it’s master”

Yaz rolled her eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, The Doctor announced her arrival at Graham O’Brien’s house with a firm knock on the front door. Graham swiftly answered, and, to the Doctor’s delight, she found him wearing a most fetching tuxedo, a velvet black tie tucked into his coat.

To his own surprise, he found The Doctor was wearing a matching tuxedo and shirt

“Here I am, all good and proper. Shall we?”

Graham gave the Doctor a little bit of the soft-shoe shuffle at the door.

Graham also noticed The Doctor’s bow tie looked somewhat displaced

“Your bow is looking a little crooked there; here let me sort you out”

His hands reached out to adjust the bow tie, the Doctor allowed him, humming a couple of musical notes to herself, all slightly out of key, but in her head sounded like blissful release…relief from all that earlier pressure.

“Mind asking me what compelled you to grab that?”

“You said it was black tie. Couldn’t find one lying about the place, figured the coolest thing I could find would suffice”

“Well, who am I to argue? We’ve all got to bring a little flavour to a restaurant”

The Doctor giggled.

“There, good as new” he said as he finished adjusting the bow tie, poking The Doctor on the nose with the tip of a middle finger.

The Doctor tucked in her lip and closed her eyes briefly, allowing herself to revel in the ever decreasing pressure. Around Graham, the drama just all seemed to wash away.

She also let out what Graham could distinctly identify as a mischievous chuckle, almost as if she was sharing a private joke to herself.

“What’s tickling those ribs of yours Doc?” Graham asked.

The Doctor wrapped her arms snugly around his neck, their two powerful and thunderstruck eyes matching.

She knew Graham wouldn’t get what she meant, and caring little if he did. He didn’t know every story, she was just thankful he had become the latest chapter.

“Let’s just say it’s a good thing we aren’t going to church…”