#editor talon

[sttermsofservice]

Terms of Service Zine Summer Special Giveaway!

Are you excited for the Terms of Service zine, but the prices have you nervous? You’re in luck! We’re hosting a giveaway from July 11 2022 to July 25 2022 (noon to midnight EST) where one lucky winner will receive a free copy of the zine, pdf, and all merch, along with a special extra prize! 

How It Works

The contest will run from 12PM EST July 11th to 11:59PM EST July 25th. Any entries submitted after 12AM EST July 26th will not be counted. 

To enter, you must a) follow @sttermsofservice on tumblr b) create a post tagging @sttermsofservice telling us what you’re most excited for about the zine c) include the hashtag #tossummergiveaway in the tags 

We will reblog your post, meaning your entry has been submitted (if your post is not reblogged within 3 days, please message it to us) 

On July 27th 2022 we will randomly select one winner. In order to be contacted in the event you win, you must have DMs open on this day. Once the individual is contacted and we have confirmation that they will receive their prize, we will reblog the winning post once more. In the event we cannot contact the winner within three days, we will select a new winner. 

And that’s it! Follow our blog, create a post for the zine tagging us, and use the correct hashtag. Note that you do not have to already be following us to enter the contest, you can follow and then make your post. Also note in the event that you do win, you will have to provide us with an email and mailing address so you can receive your prizes. 

Most of all, have fun with your posts! We’re excited to see what you’re excited about. 

Love, your TOS Zine Editors (Talon, Victor, and Pepin <3)

[marlinspirkhall]

Talon, I love you, and this is the most suspicious possible way you could phrase this:

[ID] screenshot of Tumblr text reads Rest assured, our zine is in no way illegal :) [end ID]

[leopardmuffinxo]

look hot 𓆗 be cold

[mostrandomgallery]

The Black Eagles girls as a KPop-inspired group.

Fashion inspiration from this set.

Art © Stephanie M. DO NOT REPOST!!!

Also on Deviant Art

[excavatinglizard]

Do you like Star Trek??? Do you like the triumvirate???

DO YOU LIKE HUNDREDS OF PAGES OF ART AND WRITING FOR THE LOW LOW PRICE OF $20???

@sttermsofservice zine is having a thanksgiving sale (or… late November sale for us non-Americans 😂), and you can preorder the whole zine for $5 off from the 23-25 November!!

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny turned his face up toward the sky, letting Gothams rain poor down his face. His husband, Tim, had loved this city-to the point of dying for it while wearing a mask.

The court of owls had been cowardly, and honestly Danny should have expected that from a bunch of entitled rich people. Many of the bats were there taking down the courts lackeys but there wasn't any signs of the Talons, which made sense since they seemed to act oddly around Phantom and just kinda flopped onto the ground and bared thier necks to him. Wierd.

Everyone was fighting, so no one noticed the tip of a snipers rifle poking out of a crag in the cave walls until it was too late. A shot was fired.

And Tim was on the floor

Danny didn't remember much after that. He remembers Nightwing holding his little brother while Batman came to his side. He remembers the other bats running off to find the sniper and Danny just...stood there. He stared at Tims blood splatter and the gray matter all over the floor. The bullet had went through his head had killed him quickly but this didn't comfort him. The scene was so gruesome but he couldn't bring himself to look away as his vision was consumed by green.

The next time he became aware Nightwing was in front of him, asking him to turn himself in. Confused, he asked what he had done only to learn he had hunted down every Court of Owls member like a man possessed and torn them to shreds. No one was sure how Phantom knew who was a member or not especially while he was in that state, but it didn't change the face that Phantom had killed so many people.

Danny was horrified. How could he had done this? He had never experienced the pit rage before and never thought he would. But here he was having lost almost two weeks of time and gaining more blood on his hands than he knew what to do with.

So Danny, not wanting to argue or-ancients forbid- fight his family-in-law while everyone was grieving, agreed to turn himself in.

So he did.

He never agreed to stick around for an interrogation or a trial though. So he didn't.

The cops never even learned of his true identity before he took off but he knew it wasn't safe to stay in Gotham anymore. Heck, it probably wasn't safe to stay on Earth anymore with all the heroes that would be after him if the bats so much as asked. And there was no way he could go back to his own dimensions Earth either.

...but that didn't mean all Earths where out of the question.

---

Danny had finally gotten settled in this new dimension. Starting over was always hard but he had done it before. Grabbing a gig as a freelance translator and editor for a few publication companies was pretty easy when you knew what cards to play and what people to call. Plus, Danny was really good at making false identities and translating, so that helped a ton.

At night he would keep a look out his window, trying to spot the bats of this world, as as much as it hurt him to do so, he always delighted in seeing this worlds Tim running along the rooftops.

This went on for a while until Danny started getting nauseous and intense pain in his chest and abdomen. It was bad enough that he sniffed out this worlds Dr Thomkins pretty quickly and asked her to give him a check up.

Upon doing an ultrasound she found a strange sphere in his chest, which he assured her was normal, and an embryo growing in his abdomen which was very much not. Danny laid on the examination table for a solid few seconds and Dr. Tomkins was about to start rattling off his options to him before her patient started crying. "Oh thank the stars."

Danny explained that this was the child of his late husband who was murdered and he was very happy to have this baby. Sure, he had most of his personal affects (he had cleaned out his and Tims shared home and safe houses on his way out of the dimension, much to the absolue ire of the other bats) but this was a little living piece of his husband, which was something so much more.

But this also meant he had to leave again. This worlds Tim was just like the one that he lost and he had no doubt that some way, some how, Tim would find out about this child. Could he explain this in a way that was satisfactory? Could he handle Tim coming in and out of his home to visit "his" child as he would undoubtedly do? Could he stand to see the face of a man who looked like his husband, talked like his husband, and acted like his husband, but wasn't? No. He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to Tim. He refused to replace one Tim for another. That was so callus and shallow. He would never do something like that, grief or no grief. He was strong. He'd be strong for Tim.

He paid the doctor and thanked her profusely before leaving and going back to his apartment. He hadn't even unpacked most of his stuff before he was packing it all back up again. He needed to find a world where:

1. Tim was nothing like the Tim he had known and loved

2. Tim was not old enough to take custody of thier child if he ever found out

3. Batman was not around

4. Damian didn't exist. He was usually pretty cool with the little gremlin but he doesn't think he could listen to him insult Tim and not throttle a literal child.

5. It was not impossible to raise a child

The list could probably use some work but that was the gist of it for now.

-------

Danny had finally found his perfect Gotham after weeks or interdimentional travel and countless jumps. Well, perfect probably wasn't the right word for a place like Gotham but his point still stands.

He once again found himself sitting on the edge of a rooftop overlooking the city. He and his husband had liked to sit and chat in these kinds of places when patrol was slow. Now Danny was sitting alone in the rain in one of Tims old jackets reminiscing. Suddenly hearing a grapple line connect with the building startled him out of his thoughts.

Nightwing landed nearby and for a moment Danny thought he was here to insist Danny turns himself in again before he was reminded that this wasn't the same Nightwing and Danny hadn't committed any crimes here. Well. No violent ones at least. Forging a fake identity requires much criming as it turns out.

Nightwing approached him slowly and cautiously as if he expected Danny to bolt at any second. That wasn't comforting. "Hey," the big bird greeted calmly, "How about you step away from the edge? If there's something on your mind I'm sure we can talk it out, alright?"

Danny opened his mouth and then shut it again. Opening it again he blurted out, "I'm not gonna jump."

Looking doubtful, Nightwing gestured for him to come toward him and away from the edge, and if Nightwing were anyone other than a bat he would not have obliged as he did. Once Danny was safely away from falling to his doom the vigilante began asking questions.

After everything was answered and birdy was sure Danny was safe, he made a comment about the jacket and Danny told him it belonged to his late husband who past away recently. This led to Dick egging Danny on as he talked about his husband and grieved.

It was then that Danny showed Nightwing his baby bump and the vigilante was excited for him.

Somehow he and the various bats kept running into eachother around the city and one thing let to another. Before he knew it the bats where coming and going in his apartment to "check up on him"

This worlds Tim was still 16 and loved his role as Robin. He was grieving the loss of Bruce but...this version of Tim was different. Full of light. His smile was brighter and came more often. His humor wasn't as dark and...he was...smol. He began seeing this Tim more like his child than as an alternate version of his lover. Needless to say he planned on spoiling Robin rotten.

Everything seemed to be falling into place. He had a steady income, an apartment, some new friends, and was slowly unpacking.

It was smooth sailing up until his dead husband appeared in his apartment in the middle of the night staring him down with Lazarus green eyes. How had this happened? He was Tims husband and he made absolutely sure Tims body had been cremated (another thing the bats were mad about since Bruce and Tim were Jewish). Tim has specifically asked for cremation to avoid a situation like this where Ras got his creepy little hands on him.

But why would Ras send Tim here? How did Tim get here? How did Tim find him? Why did Tim show up in his apartment on random nights and then disappear into the city when he tried to ask him answers? Why did Tim barely speak? Was this a clone or the original?

Was this even real? Or was he finally losing his mind?

[certainlynotasimp]

Hii, i think a good idea for a one shot could be that there's a canon event where the spiderperson!reader have to do the iconic Spiderman kiss in their universe, like Spiderman 3 (toby's one) with Gwen stacy or whoever you want, but they are in a relationship with Miguel LMAOOO btw im sorry if there's something wrong with the grammar, english is not my first language <3

Rewrite the Stars

((Miguel O’Hara x Female! Reader))

A/N: A non Sunny x Miggy post? How odd for me lol. I’m so sorry this is super late and to everyone whose requested, I’m working slowly but surely on y’all’s stuff. If you wanna read some stuff in the meantime, here’s the Masterlist and feel free to join my discord.

A/N: I tried doing the you/yours pronoun thing because this isn’t a Sunny fanfic but I really don’t like it lol.

Warnings: Jealous Miguel?, Unrequited/Forbidden? Love, Female Reader/Female Pronouns, Barely use of Y/N, and no Spanish this time ((I’m trying to find a new translator and hopefully an editor))

The universe.

One of life’s greatest mysteries. A mass of stars and galaxies that housed so many lives within its many pockets. The lives of so many people whose lives were already written within its cloudy arms and their ends cemented in its pools of nothingness.

A beautiful cycle of cruelty and destiny.

A cycle that was the reason for your utter misery as you sat at a bar listening to your dimension’s Ben Riley blabber on about some football game you cared nothing about.

His oblivious brown eyes sparkled at the fascination with the game as his dimpled smile accentuates his sharp jawline. The warm lights from above caused a healthy glow to bounce off of his shaggy blonde hair, almost making him look like an angel. You can see why Spiderverse assigned him as your love interest.

In your earth’s canon, you were a typical woman who had gotten bit by a radioactive spider during a high school field trip and you spent your entire high school experience thrashing goons instead of chasing boys. Even helped take down some aliens with the Fantastic Four and the Avengers at times before college finals. Spiderwoman was New York’s beloved hero and the cockiness of being its one and only SpiderWoman quickly got into her head.

That was until six months ago.

Six months ago, you were fighting the Vulture over the Empire State Building when another, more mutated version of the same villain appeared. They both decided in your state of delirium over the doubles that you would be a good plaything.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, I didn’t ask for a combo with my chicken!” A feminine spider’s voice screeches as she avoids the hooked talons of the erratic variant.

The two villains took turns flying menacingly around the scope of buildings to throw the hero off of their location while the other swooped in and tries to rip her throat out.

As she attempts to escape the feathered monster, its companion would come and slice away the web of salvation, continuing the vicious cycle.

Blood blinded her vision as the loud ringing at the base of her skull grew louder. The causes of that annoying alarm grasp their razor claws into her shoulders before sweeping her exhausted body into the air with a victorious snarl.

‘I guess this is the end…’

As the heavens draw closer to her doom, her life hanging up by the slicing of her muscles and bones, a glimmer of fate happens. The warmth of a flash barely registers as the first ache disappears with a startled squeak and a burly force. The sudden change in feeling takes her breath away as she suddenly begins to plummet below.

Her eyes quickly adjusting to the suffocating drop, she can see that one of the Vultures was now fighting an even more prominent blue figure, his howls of pain and unintelligible cursing heard from the stumbling brawl.

As the flash from her familiar foe reaches around the building, she shoots her web at him and used him as a glider.

“Time to ground you, birdie!” She yells as she throws the villain through a window. Catching her grip on the building, she looks at her new foe in the sky and the wind is knocked out of her from the sight.

The man who saved her was in a futuristic spider suit with his mask now off. His dark hair flutters in the wind as the setting sun makes his tanned skin glow. His red eyes glare at the wiggling mutant as his full lips pull back into a snarl. His jaws open revealing a set of large fans before he plunged them into the mutant.

Who the hell is that?

~~~~~~~~~

“(Y/N)?…” Ben frowns as he realizes his date was lost in her thoughts.

You snapped out of your head and fake an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I was remembering something….”

That wasn’t a complete lie. You remembered the day you met Miguel O’Hara. The Spiderman of the year 2099 and the leader of the inter-dimensional Spider Society. The anomaly that had come into your world had brought the two together and you were recruited due to your stubbornness, much to Miguel’s annoyance.

~~~~~~~~~

“No.” His annoyance dripped from these words as he glares down at you. You were caught in wonder at the idea of there being other Spidermen and that they worked together to stop the collapse of the entire universe. The thought seemed too good to be true that you just had to ask if you could join until those red eyes shot your dream through the heart.

“What do you mean ‘No’?” You ask in disbelief. Your own eyes glared deep into his soul as your hands balled into fists. “I’m a Spiderman just like you! How could you-!”

“You are not like me.” He coldly snaps at you, your ranting briefly interrupted as the man towers over you. His clawed hand grasps your face as his glare sets a spark of fury down in your chest.

“You will never be like me and you will never-!” “Is that our new recruit?” A smooth British accent appears behind Miguel as a spiked-headed Spiderman peeks around his bulking figure.

“No, she’s-” The tall punk pulls you away from Miguel with a mischievous laugh as he introduces himself. “Ello, love, my name is Hobie. Hobie Brown.” He leans down with a sly smirk as his mischievous attitude infests your being like a plague. “Just play along, mate. Let’s riffle this wanker’s undies.” He whispers as you giggle.

“Nice to meet you, Hobie.” I allow a sly smirk to slide onto my face as I look back at the now very annoyed Miguel. “My name is (Y/N) and I’m happy to join.”

~~~~~~~~

The distant sound of screams filters through the bar as the distinct sound of a car being tossed into another building.

Looking at my gizmo disguised as a watch, you realized that the canon event was starting.

~~~~~~~~

“You did well today,” Miguel admits under his breath. Looking at him in shock, you realize that he wasn’t scowling like he normally was. He had a softer expression, his eyes shining with approval as his lips quirked into a mimic of a smile.

The mission had almost gone rouge with the escape of a prowler and him hiding low in a crowded dimension. Despite the obvious danger, Miguel opted to go alone like usual, but his lack of spider sense caused him to get caught up in a trap. Talons and Fangs don’t really help if you can’t exactly move around to use them, so he ended up taking serious blows.

Luckily, you managed to get there and tumble with the villain long enough for the others to rescue Miguel, and the team managed to recapture the prowler. Of course all of them looked pretty bad injuries wise, but the look Miguel had as you sat there bandaging up his wounds made it worth it for some odd reason.

“Thanks Boss.”

~~~~~~~~

June 27th : SpiderWoman of Earth 648 will rescue love interest, Ben Riley, from an attack against The Rhino….

The roaring of the mechanical beast fills the panicked screams of the patrons as the sinking feeling falls in your chest. Ben is quick to play the hero like any guy would as he grabs your arm and drags you out towards the emergency exit. Just like the timeline said it would.

You use the chaos to your advantage as you pretend to trip and get lost in the crowd of people struggling to escape from the emergency exit.

~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean by that?!” I snapped at an irritated Miguel.

Lyla was surprisingly quiet as she watched the duo argue. Miguel whips around at you as his ruby eyes scorched into yours. His talons point at you accusingly as he reiterates your next canon event.

“On June 27th, you are going to be out on a date with Ben Riley. The Rhino is gonna attack that street and you’re gonna save everyone, and afterwards you’re gonna have to kiss him.” His frustration evident as his permanent frown creases.

You stare into his eyes in defiance as you coldly utter, “No. I’m not gonna kiss Ben Riley.”

“And why not? He’s your love interest!” Miguel exclaims, obviously more furious than before. “You’re the Peter to his MJ. You gotta kiss him because you’re destined to be.”

“I don’t love him! I don’t even like his whiny ass!” You snap as you felt your frustrated tears roll down your face.

It’s true. Before you joined this team, you would have been thrilled that you were destined to be with Campus Hunk Ben Riley. He was everything you could ever want from a guy. He was good looking, sensitive, athletic, and social able. The all around good guy you would be proud to bring home to your folks.

But…

Sharp grasp on your shoulder alerts your attention back to Miguel as he slams you back against the desk. His eyes burning embers as he glares down at you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Changing into your spidersuit, you began to fight The Rhino with a distracted daze in your movements.

The memory from a week prior burning in your mind as you sloppily avoided cars and harsh blows. After a few well timed flips and back kicks, the brute decides to throw a large street cleaning truck towards the alleyway. Just like Lyla predicted when she handed you the file.

The Rhino is gonna throw a street cleaner towards the alleyway where Ben is. SpiderWoman will stop the truck before impact and sling it back towards The Rhino ending the fight.

~~~~~~~

“And why is it that you are being so difficult?!” He snaps as his fangs glimmer from his scowl. A cute trait you used to love about him until it was pointed at you. “You are no better than a spoiled child with how you are acting so you better have a good fucking reason!”

You growl back at him with a tear rolling down your enraged face.

He had no right to argue with you about your life, not when he’s the one making it difficult.

~~~~~~~

Shooting a web out towards the buildings, you catapulted yourself into the air and landed in front of the truck. Quickly reusing the web with some enforcements, the truck was bounced back to the The Rhino. The enormous foe gets trampled by the machinery as the crowd cheers for SpiderWoman’s dreaded victory.

“Way to go SpiderWoman!!” A familiar voice joins the crowd as I see Ben on the ground, obviously he either tripped or fell back to avoid the truck. You offer a hand towards him as you thank him softly.

“Thank you.” I faked the smile in my voice as the crowd disappears, leaving the two of you in the alley way.

~~~~~

Finally snapping at him, you yell out in fury,

“BECAUSE HE’S NOT YOU!”

With a frustrated slap to Miguel’s face, you run past him and escaped back to your dimension, heartbroken over how the events to come and what just happened that despite everything you couldn’t change fate.

No matter how many times you fell asleep during long nights talking on his observation deck. No matter how many playful sparring matches turn into flirty comments. Not even the little gestures of bringing the grumpy spider his coffee and him bringing you some sweets during meetings could change that the star already written your path.

You fell in love with a man who isn’t meant to be yours.

~~~~~

It’s been a week since that fight and you still haven’t seen or heard from him. It hurt to know that your confession was brushed aside while you had to continue the continuity. You half at least expected him to be here to make sure you at least followed through with the canon event.

“Would you like a swing home?” I offer just like I’m supposed to. The moment that was meant to be a nervous beginning to a love story felt like the beginning of heartache as I watched a blush form on his face.

“Sure,” he answered before a flash of realization that his date was suddenly not with him. Another trait you wouldn’t have noticed if you were as in love with him as you were suppose to be.

“Hey my date isn’t here…I think she got hurt or lost during the panic.” His concern caused a pang of guilt to stab her in the chest.

Recovering quickly, you shoot out some webbing and playfully hang upside down infront of him. “Well I guess that swinging date will have to be postponed.”

“Wait it was gonna be a-!”

Quickly, you pulled down the mask enough to deliver a quick peck to his rambling mouth. You force out a giggle as he stood looking at you flabbergasted.

“See ya, Riley.” You swing off as the man bumbled to even ask how you knew his name.

Lyla just said it was a kiss, not a what kind of kiss.

With a heavy heart, you swing back home as you tried to remember that this was all for the sake of the canon. That Miguel didn’t care for you the way you did for him. You tried your hardest to tell your aching heart that those past few months were you just making too much out of nothing.

You mournfully entered your apartment through the bathroom window you normally kept unlocked . You stripped away the skin tight fabric before wrapping yourself in the familiar comfort of your robe as you exited the room into a dim lit living room.

You heart stick in your chest as you see Miguel standing there in your living room in his bright blue spider suit and a beautiful spring lily in his hand.

“Miguel? What are you doing here?…” You ask as yoy warily approach him, scared he’s gonna do something to you.

He shakes his head, refusing to answer as he hands you the flower. It’s soft white petals shining in the pale moonlight as you smile fondly at it. They were your favorite flower. Something you told Miguel a million times before.

Before you could thank him for the kind gesture, a soft thump above you alrets you to look up. A spindle of glowing webbing cascaded down the ceiling with the large spiderman now suspended upside down from it. His free hand caresses the side of your face as his eyes stared softly into yours.

“I can’t change the canon, mi amor…” he whispers sadly before mischief lights up his molten gaze. “But we certainly can try to rewrite the stars for us.”

An excited nod from you causes his chest to rumble as he pulls you into a slow passionate kiss.

You were glad this is a canon event for spider men despite it not going as planned.

[daddymilker691]

Well my darling readers and fans of the one and only Daily Milker paper Londons best kept secret , for the more deviant connoisseur with broader minds than the Daily shun it’s been a rather dank and dismal day here in our Holborn Studios , and of course it’s Guy Fawkes day so there have been lots of loud bangs and explosions outside but inside the studio it’s been a case of indoor fireworks and fortunately Dawn Green my wonderful Co Editor is health and safety mad so everything has been kept safely between these walls, as always I will pay tribute to the wonderful Dawn Green who helps me in so many ways to keep us going our first star today all the way from Canada was the lovely Canadiandoll also known as happy little Lucy looking fabulous as always I can still feel those green talons holding my head in place . Next to arrive the wonderful Jodie Hot Sauce celebrating in a rather wonderful outfit more apt the Chinese New year perhaps but when lifted oh dear readers Jodie’s rocket went off with a bang believe me dear readers it doesn’t take much to light page five star Jodie’s fuse . Next came one of our biggest page five stars and a staple star of the Daily Milker Janablack once seen never forgotten we all love Jana here . such a big and giving page five star . Then it was a bus ride for the lovely Sandra Clapham another London star and as always looking radiant and wonderful a staple star of the milker ( on the subject of staples Dawn darling we are running short i keep telling you just take that dress to the repairers ) next came the lovely Jessica another London star ⭐️ blimey so many in London looking great . Then it was IPra time to shine I pra is lovely and is another regular page five star and never fails to deliver next came the rather wonderful only monika I would have been happy to pay the taxi fare but what can I say I was bewitched , lastly Cindy Lace , lastly love and peace to you all gawd knows we could all do with it xxx

[dazzling-raven]

This got way out of hand. 'Oh, I should write a little drabble to go along with the drawing I'm working on! Ittl be fun!' 6,000 words later and here we are. It was fun, I don't have regrets, but oh my gosh. Massive thank you to Inky Clawz on wofa for being my beta reader/editor. If anyone actually reads through the whole thing thank you for reading about my little guys ^^

It all started with a letter. A single letter. It was a pale yellow in color. Small, and unassuming. It didn’t even have a wax seal. “It’s from your mother. She understands if you don’t open it, but in my opinion it would be best if you did.” The messenger had said, then backed away. At first Chip had been confused as to how she had even found his address, but then he remembered that he and his husband ran what could probably be considered two of the most popular shops in the SkyWing kingdom. Dragons came from all over to try Chip’s wonderfully unique pastries or get cleverly crafted tattoos done by his husband’s talons. Some just came to look at them and talk. It wasn’t every day you saw a SeaWing in the Sky Kingdom, much less an ivory white and orange one. His husband was no different- he was an ‘illusive’ NightWing, and a good looking one at that. If they weren’t head turners already, jaws would drop to the ground once dragons caught sight of their wedding bands. Word of mouth travels faster than any advertisement could, after all. 

Chip found himself avoiding the letter for days- he had even considered tearing the letter into little shreds on more than one occasion. However, his husband, Voyant, had noticed that Chip had been acting off as of late. Because of course he did. He had known ever since meeting him that fateful day that NightWing powers were all a lie, but he might as well have been a mind reader with how quickly he was able to catch on to Chip’s emotions. After tucking their adorable little dragonet into bed (and reading ‘The Ten Little Scavengers’ to him for the tenth time) he had trotted into the living room where a fire was already waiting for him. His heart melted at the sight of his husband, who had been curled upon their rug. He had been sketching out a new design, his black, forked tongue poked out between his fangs in concentration. 

His black scales gleamed in the firelight, and if you angled your head just right you could see a faint purple shine dance across them. His pearl white underbelly rose and fell with each breath, and the dual crescent shaped silver scales behind his eyes glimmered softly. “See something you like?” His husband asked with a coy smile, stretching out slightly and resting the pencil on the floor. 

“Just admiring a work of art.” Chip replied smoothly, walking over to him with a grin. He bent down and gently bonked his husband’s head with his own, then curled into his side. Voyant’s tail immediately intertwined with his, and Chip felt his husband drape his wing over his smaller form. The two sat there for a while, and for a moment Chip let himself go. He felt so comfortable and safe in his husband’s embrace, and he never wanted this moment to end. He listened to his husband talk about his day, but he felt his gaze wandering back to the piece of paper sitting on their countertop. Still unopened. 

“Is it about the letter?” Voyant asked abruptly, having followed Chip’s stare. The SeaWing immediately felt like trash for not giving his husband his full attention, but he nodded. 

“Yeah. M’sorry about not saying anything sooner, but…” he hesitated, his claws fiddling with the red bandanna still tied around his husband’s neck. 

“It’s been hard? Scary, even? Not knowing what’s inside?” Bingo. Voyant always knew how to word things better than he ever could have. The SeaWing nodded, almost wishing he could curl up into a ball and disappear. He didn’t though, instead focusing on his husband’s slow, even breaths as he steadied his nerves. 

“I know, it’s silly. We fought in countless battles, rescued Solaris from the talons of Scarlet herself, and I got my legs *burnt by lava* and I can’t even handle a few words written on a scroll.” Chip growled, clenching his talons in anger. 

“I don’t think so. We both know what she did and how she treated you. Sometimes words can hurt more than the sharpest of swords or the hottest fires. It’s ultimately your choice, but running away from the ink on that paper and not knowing what she wrote could eat away at you later down the line.” The NightWing said, taking Chip’s talons in his own and rubbed them to get them to relax. 

Chip felt the rage seep away from his scales as he took in Voyant’s words. Then he smiled. “Wow, I never knew you were a wordsmith. Hey, which ghost in the room possessed my husband this time? I'd like him back, please! We’re trying to have a serious and emotional conversation here!” Chip said, grinning as his husband’s face went from serious, to confused, and finally mock offense as the SeaWing looked around the room, smiling like an idiot. 

“Well Ex-CUSE me, your majesty. If you don’t want my help I'll just pack my things and take our son for a nice vacation. I think the SandWing kingdom is looking for some new visitors. I’ve heard that they fancy poetry that you simply don’t appreciate.” The NightWing said in a faux snobby voice, standing up in a semi graceful movement and walking a few paces away.

“Wait, I- pfft- I’m sorry-” Chip said, his quick apology interrupted by gasps of laughter as he stumbled to his feet like a drunken idiot. 

“Nope! You’ve officially missed your chance, Mr. Seastar. Come back next year when the almighty and powerful Voyant is back in town. Then, and only then, you may even THINK kissing his talons and winning back his heart.” The NightWing said, smiling as he lifted a paw into the air and pretended to admire the imaginary jewelry on his claws. 

“Mr. Voyant, please! Just one more chance? I promise I’ll make it up to you!” Chip pleaded with a grin, finally steadying himself as he giggled to himself. 

Voyant paused as if considering Chip’s plea, then nodded. “All right, SeaWing. What’s in it for me?” 

“This,” Chip said, closing the gap between them. He held a talon to Voyant’s face, and guided him in for a kiss. It was clunky and awkward with how the both of them were giggling, but that’s what made it special. “That work for you, Voyant the great and powerful?” He smirked, relishing in his husband’s surprise. 

Voyant snorted and rolled his eyes, but nodded all the same. “Fine, I could get used to this.” He said definitively. “Consider yourself forgiven,” Chip grinned, giving him a quick kiss as a little bonus for putting up with his tomfoolery. 

The two of them quieted their giggles and sobered up after a bit, sitting right there on their polished wooden floor. They lingered in the comfortable silence for a while, before Chip decided to break it. “I’m going to read it. Do you think you could… stay with me?” He asked, looking at his husband with hope.  

“Of course. Let’s go back to the rug.” The NightWing said, standing up and trotting over to their previous spot. Chip nodded, grabbing the letter and following after him. He easily snuggled into his husband’s side, resuming the position they had been in previously. Chip paused as he looked at the scroll in his talons, but unraveled it as his husband gently nudged him with his head. 

“My dearest dragonet

Dear Seastar, 

I apologize that this letter has only been spurred on by recent events. As your mother, I should have done more to try and reach out to you sooner to rekindle our decaying relationship. I would also like to take this moment to apologize for everything I have ever done to wrong you. As a parent, It should have been my duty to protect and guide you through life. Instead, you ended up taking care of me. I snapped, and you were banished with me by my own fault. It wasn’t right. I have no idea where you are in life. Are you happy? Are you sad? Are you married? Do I have grandchildren? I may never know the answers to those questions, and you have all the rights to keep that knowledge from me. However, as stated above, I am writing to you now to inform you that I don’t have very much time left on this continent. I am fading due to an injury I received near the end of the war. I hadn’t realized how bad it was until it was too late, and I’ve been using my final months to reflect on past events. Funny, how dying makes you think. I would like to talk and apologize to you in person. I’m aware that apologizing to you via scroll isn’t the best way to handle things, but I doubt you’re ready to see my face and I don’t think I could make the journey anyways. If you are willing to visit, I am staying at The Hearthstone Haven in the SandWing Kingdom. It’s in a quaint little village near the coast. I understand if you’d rather stay as far away as possible, however. It is entirely your choice. 

Wishing you all the best in your future years, your mother”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, digesting what they had just read. Chip hadn’t realized he had been shaking or crying until his talons began to crease the page and his tears dropped onto the paper. Voyant’s eyes widened in surprise and he gently took the note from him. “She makes me so *angry*, Voyant. And the worst part is that I know she’s being completely genuine.” He growled, snuggling further into Voyant’s side and hiding his face in the crook of his husband’s shoulder. He hated when Voyant saw him cry, but he didn’t know what to feel. He was angry. Sad. Regretful. Hopeful. Did he want to even see her again? Yes! …No. It was complicated. Chip was thankful that Voyant let him hide away until he was ready to look at him again. When he was, he took a shuddering breath and gave his husband a gentle nudge. “Can we leave this for another day? It’s late and we both need rest.” 

His husband’s eyes widened a bit, clearly expecting him to say something else, but agreed nonetheless. “Let’s. You look exhausted, and I bet I don’t look much better.” 

Chip snorted, agreeing with that statement. They both stood up and stretched, then walked off to their shared bedroom. Voyant placed the scroll on the simple nightstand that was next to their bed, and they both snuggled up for the third time that night. This time, however, they both managed to drift into dreamland.

-

Chip hummed to himself as he made everyone breakfast. He had purchased salmon for himself and Voyant that morning, and was now cooking it over their fire. It wasn’t very often that he was able to have fish, and he had jumped at the chance when he found a traveling SeaWing merchant that had been selling them. Keeping an eye on Voyant’s fish (he preferred his raw), he trotted back over to their open kitchen. He wandered around their island to get to their water basin, dipping his talons in to wash them. Once he finished, he plodded over to where he had left his son’s breakfast. He picked up the knife from the cutting board and began chopping up grapes, strawberries, cantaloupe, and other various fruits and scraped it into a smooth wooden bowl. Fruit was also fairly uncommon, but he was friends with one of the few SkyWings that sold it in the sky kingdom. He was always willing (and thankfully able) to pay a little extra to give his son the food he preferred, though he usually got his at a cheeky little discount.  

“Daddy!” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. His son bounded over to him, his scales a bright, vibrant gold mixed in with his usual forest green. “OOh, what’s that? OHMYGOSH, is it FRUIT?!” He asked, spotting the colorful food as he jumped onto Chip’s back. 

“Woah! Hey, Morning to you, too, kid! Careful, I’ve got a knife. Hey, why don’t you go wake up your Pappa for me? Sneak attack style, like how I taught you.” Chip said, laughing as he put the knife back onto the cutting board. “Once you’ve done that, I’ve got a special question for you. Ok?” He asked, grinning as he tried to turn around and look at his kid. 

“Ooo, Ok! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” the little RainWing nodded, orange and purple now bursting through his scales like fireworks. He began to breathe calmly, the color sliding from his scales like water as he faded seamlessly into the background. His feet were even the colors of Chip’s scales. “Like this?” He whispered, and Chip grinned and nodded. Gold burst through random patches of air before they disappeared again, and Chip felt a weight lift from his back. The only thing that gave him away was the quiet sounds of giggling. Chip felt a strong sense of pride and adoration as he looked at where he thought his son was, then remembered the now quite done salmon on the fire and quickly rushed to get it on a plate. It wasn’t burnt, but it was definitely quite smokey. Chip sighed in relief, walking over to the low mahogany table and set Voyant’s plate down. He’d forgive him for what was about to happen after he saw what was for breakfast.  

“BOO!” 

“YEOWCH! Ok, message received! I’m up, I’m up! No claws, you little monster. Hey! Ohh, I’m gonna get you for that one!” Chip heard Voyant shout, quickly followed by a streak of gold-yellow as the little RainWing shot out of their bedroom. “You’ve awakened the big, bad Darkstalker! He’s come for you and your soul! He’s going to put you in a stew and gobble you up! ROARGH!” Voyant shouted, grinning as he stampeded over to their son. 

“NO! Go ‘way! Can’t catch me!” Their son yelled gleefully, flapping his little wings to gain momentum as he leapt onto the countertop. 

“Watermelon, no countertops!” Chip chided, smiling as he watched his free morning entertainment.

“No! I have the high ground!” His son retorted, balancing on his hind legs to make himself look taller. “Go back to the darkness from where you came, you evil beast!” he commanded, stumbling slightly as he pointed at his husband with a small, light gray claw. 

“Never! Simple words do not work on the Darkstalker, little boy! Only a true hero can defeat him! ROAR!” Voyant shouted again, grabbing his son by the underarms and bringing him close with a quick movement. “Prepare to be stew!” 

“No! Pappa- Staph-” Watermelon said, shrieking with laughter as he tried to push Voyant’s head away from him to no avail. Voyant made an ‘om nom nom’ kind of noise as he pretended to feast on their son, his shoulders shaking with barely concealed laughter. 

“Ok, you two. Before The Darkstalker gets full on little RainWing, does he perhaps want to see what’s actually for breakfast?” Chip asked, gesturing to the table with his wing.

“Perhaps he does. Alright, little child. Consider yourself spared and the victory yours. I’ve tortured you enough.” Voyant said, laughing as he settled their son down. 

“HA! That’s right! Now go back and give me back my Papa!” Their son ordered, spreading his red wings and puffing out his light gray underbelly with pride. Voyant, a good natured father, rolled his eyes. He followed his son's demands and retreated to his bedroom once more. As he did, Chip snuck around their son’s small frame and grabbed their breakfasts. His husband stayed in their room just long enough for him to be able to set them on the table. “What happened?” He asked, faking being delirious as he looked around the room.

“Pappa! You were possessed by the Darkstalker! You were going to turn me into stew, but me an’ Daddy saved you before you could eat me!” Watermelon cried, running over to the NightWing and doing his best to hug his forearm. 

“Did you now? Well, aren’t you a brave little hero?” He asked, rubbing his son’s back before looking over to Chip with a fond smile.

“Yeah! The bestest ever! I’m gonna save the world one day!” The RainWing proclaimed, grinning proudly. 

“Well, heroes can’t survive on moxie and pride alone, can they? They need nutrition to get themselves through battles. Like Ironheart, remember? He would want you to let go of your Papa’s leg and get big and strong.” Chip said, chuckling as his son’s eyes sparkled at the mention of his favorite NightWing hero. 

“Ohmygosh, yeah! Fruit for breakfast!” His son cheered, releasing Voyant’s leg and scrambling over to the table. He was just barely tall enough to peek his head over the wooden surface, so Voyant went and retrieved the dragonet’s stool for him to sit on. He hopped onto the stool with glee, then dragged the bowl close to him. As the two adults sat down at the head and tail of the table, Watermelon began to do his best to organize the fruit in the bowl before eating it. Chip smiled at this, thankful that his son remembered not to put the sticky fruit on the wood this time. He shouldn’t have been playing with his food at all, but at least this was an improvement. 

He looked at Voyant, who just smiled and rolled his eyes before eating his salmon. Chip, though previously excited for this meal, could only poke and pick at it as his thoughts began to wander back to the letter. Noticing this, Chip’s husband looked concerned and tilted his head. “Letter.” Chip mouthed to him, and Voyant nodded in understanding. Chip hesitated before nodding to his son, who was happily sticking the blueberries onto his claws and eating them off one by one. Voyant gave him an uncertain look, but shrugged as if to say ‘up to you.’ Chip sat for a few moments, eyeing his son as he began to pretend his fruit was a bunch of tiny scavengers that he was going to eat and destroy. “Watermelon” he said, his son’s head snapping towards him with wide eyes. “Do you remember the special question that I wanted to ask you?” 

The dragonet relaxed immediately before an orange purple mix burst through his scales again. “Yeah! I do!” He exclaimed, nodding vigorously. 

“If you had a family member that you had never heard of or seen before, would you still want to meet them? Even if they have no knowledge of you, either?” Chip asked, getting straight to the point. He knew that Watermelon was young, but he was a perceptive little dragonet. He would always surprise Chip and his husband with thoughtful answers or observations when they thought he wasn’t even paying attention. 

Watermelon looked thoughtful, humming briefly and forgetting the fruit on the table. “I think so. I could get to know them and we could be best friends!” He chirped happily, then went quiet. “Is this about Nanna?” He asked, blue and a darkish purple overtaking most of his scales. “I heard you talking about her last night.” He clarified when he and Voyant shared surprised glances. 

“Yes, this is about Nanna. It’s ok that you heard us, I’m sorry if we woke you. Would you still like to see her? You can say no if you really don’t want to.” Chip said after a brief hesitation. 

“I wanna meet her. Even if it won’t be for very long, I still want her to know me.” His dragonet said quietly, suddenly finding the table to be very interesting. 

“All right. We’ll figure something out. Why don’t you finish your breakfast? Then we can go play with Tor once you’re done.” Chip said, smiling as gold overtook the unhappy colors on his son’s scales. 

“YAY! Ok!” His son agreed heartily, gobbling up the remainder of the fruit before dashing into his room. 

“Are you sure about this?” Voyant asked simply, finishing his breakfast. 

“Yes. Even if I don’t really want to see her myself, I want to show her you two and what a family should actually look like. Not whatever the hell my childhood was.” Chip said, finishing his own breakfast. Even if he wasn’t hungry anymore, it was still good food that he didn’t want to waste. 

Voyant sighed, but relented. “Ok. I’ll be with you every step of the way”

- 

The odd little family stood at the entrance of The Hearthstone Haven. It had taken them a while to get here, with Chip leaving his bakery in the trustworthy talons of one of his squadmates and Voyant’s head manager taking over his shop. They didn’t really know how long they were going to stay - weeks? A day? An hour? So they had taken preparations to make sure everything was taken care of back home. Chip had written to his mother to let her know that they indeed were coming to visit, but not for how long. It was a terse letter, but it had gotten his point across. “All right. Let’s do this.” Chip said, using the pushing open the large twin doors. 

The three of them walked the short distance to the receptionist’s desk, coming face to face with a bored looking SandWing.“Hi, we’re here to see Acropora?” Chip said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

The SandWing’s eyes narrowed as he took the group in, his black, soulless eyes staring each of them down. Chip could feel Voyant step closer to him, and his son stayed firmly behind him. “Seastar?” The SandWing eventually asked, his voice sounding slow and nasally as he worded out each syllable of his name.

“Yes, that’s me.” Chip said, nodding.

“The others?” The SandWing asked, his gaze flickering to the two unannounced dragons. 

“My son, Watermelon, and my husband, Voyant.” Chip said, giving the dragon the most winning smile he could. 

The older dragon only sighed, rolling his eyes. “Down the hall and to the left. Her room will have a nameplate. If you need anything from me, no you don’t.” The SandWing stated firmly, promptly going back to his work. 

‘Squid brain’ Chip thought, frowning at the dragon before realizing what he was doing. “Yes, thank you!” he said, switching to his much more polite customer service voice before ushering his family in the direction the receptionist had vaguely given them.  

“If I ever get like that, please force me into a home and don’t look back. Ever.” Voyant said once they were out of earshot, and Chip let out a surprised laugh. 

“Voyant!” He scolded, smacking him over the head with his wing.

“Yeah, Pappa! Stop being mean!” Their son chimed in, his previously light green scales fading back to forest green and the occasional random bursts of gold. 

“Me? He looked like he was going to stab us with his eyes! And you think I’m being mean?” Voyant squawked, groaning as his son just laughed at him. “All right, fine. You win! You always win.” The Nightwing said, smiling as he scooped his giggling son up and put him on his back. Chip and his son shared twin grins before he noticed his mother’s nameplate on one of the doors. His smile faded as he took in the sight of the simple oak. It wasn’t anything impressive, but he still felt intimidated by it. He hadn’t thought of what he was going to say until now. Would they cry? Would she sweep him into her wings and never let go? Or would he snap at her, ask her why she betrayed the trust of him? Their Ex-Queen? If it weren’t for him, she would have gotten herself and the two guards just trying to do their jobs killed that night. “Do you need us to go in with you?” his husband asked, standing beside him and brushing his wing with Chip’s own. 

Chip jumped a little, having forgotten that they were there, but shook his head. “Knowing you two are out here is enough for me.” He said, smiling as he leaned his head against Voyant’s before taking a deep breath. “Wish me luck?” He asked, claw on the doorknob. 

“Good luck Daddy!” His son chimed, scrambling off his husband’s back to give Chip a hug. Chip hugged him back, and Voyant joined them. 

After a beat or two, Chip backed out of the hug to take another breath. “Stay out here with your Papa, ok? I’ll let you know if you can come in.” His son nodded, stepping back as Chip finally opened the door. He had to blink to get his eyes to adjust to the light of the room, but when he did one of the first things he saw was his mother. She had her back turned to him, so he hadn’t been noticed yet. The room she was staying in was small, but three medium sized dragons could move about comfortably if they kept their wings and tails to themselves. The room was mostly bare aside from the black carpeted floor and the white walls. His mother was standing at a desk facing the window, reading something on a scroll. Some plants hung on the walls in an attempt to bring some energy to the place, and it did help a little. They were bright and vibrant with life. “Mother?” Chip called, stepping through and closing the door behind him. 

His mother jumped in surprise, nearly knocking the scroll off of her desk as she turned around. “By all the whales, does no one know how to knock in this moons-blasted building? Who the- ah.” She said, cutting herself off once she realized who it was. The two of them stood quietly for a moment, neither really sure what to say. For the most part, his mother looked the same as the day he had left her. Same light blue scales. Her underbelly was still the same color of finely ground, pure sand. Her wings were still a quiet shade of gray-blue. Her aquatic markings were slightly darker than the rest of her scales, and her horns were still the color of a cloudy day. The only noticeably different things about her were the blue glasses that rested on her snout, curling elegantly around her horns, and the bandages that were wrapped around her chest, protecting her heart. It wasn’t much, but still something to keep things from getting any worse. “I’m surprised you actually showed up. I know you wrote back, but still. It’s… nice to see you in person.” She said, moving closer before stopping herself. Chip said nothing. 

“You’re right. I should not have done what I did, nor said what I spoke. I am owed nothing from you. I was not in the best of places that day, though that is not an excuse. Then you stepped in and threw everything away for me. I should have died in that throne room, but you defended me. You could have just stood by and let it happen, but you didn’t. Ever since he left us, it was a downward spiral for me. I miss him every day, and he makes me angry for your sake. Then we were in the desert. You were handling everything better than most would have, despite everything. But I couldn’t hold it in anymore. It was all just too much, and I wrongly lashed out at you. For that, Seastar, I am truly sorry.” His mother said, sitting down. Her tail curled around her talons, and they were both quiet as Chip processed what his mother had said. 

“It’s Chip.” He finally said, stepping away from the door and closer to her. 

“What?” She asked, looking incredibly confused.

“What I prefer to be called. I haven’t used the name Seastar since getting put into my squad.” He informed her, smiling a little. He moved to sit down next to her. 

“Oh. Ok, Chip.” She nodded, accepting the change as it came. 

“I don’t forgive you. At least, not yet. You made everything incredibly difficult. I never wanted to fight for Burn. I wanted to fight for Coral and my tribe. But I do have to thank you. I realize that if everything was perfect, I would have never achieved all my accomplishments. I would have never met my husband, or adopted my dragonet. I’m only here because they wanted to know you. If not for them, I would have torn that letter to shreds without opening it. It will take time, but maybe, just maybe, we can at least make things work.” Chip said, watching his mother’s expression change from understanding to surprise and joy as she processed what she had just heard. 

“Husband? Dragonet? Sea- Chip, when did this happen?” She asked, excitedly grabbing his talons before she realized what she was doing. 

Chip grunted in surprise as all of his weight was suddenly shifted onto his bad legs, but he quickly masked the strained expression he had made with a laugh and a smile. His mother quickly apologized to him, setting his talons down again. “A while ago. Would you like to meet them? I think it would be best if they heard everything from you and if we shared our story together.”

“That would be wonderful.” His mother said, her dark blue eyes bright with excitement. 

Chip stood up with a smile, then walked over to the door to let his family in. “Ok, It’s go time.” He said, and Voyant walked in, their son close behind him. “This is Voyant, and this kiddo here is Watermelon.” He said, introducing both dragons in turn. 

“A NightWing! And a good looking one at that. How did you manage to snatch this one up?” His mother asked, a teasing grin on her snout. 

“His charm.” Voyant answered simply, sitting down next to him. 

“Um. Hi Nanna! I’m Watermelon!” His son introduced himself again, his scales a combination of light green and gold as he bounded up to her. 

“Watermelon! Hey, kiddo! You’re so big! How old are you?” His mother asked excitedly, easily matching his enthusiasm. 

“I’m two an’ a half!” He squeaked, grinning proudly.

“Wow, that’s amazing! I know where you got your good looks from, too.” Chip’s mother said, gleefully watching her grandson’s scales quickly turn to a light violet. 

“Oh! Nanna, look what I can do! It’s really cool!” he said enthusiastically, then concentrated as he studied Chip’s mother for a brief moment. Suddenly, light blue scales washed over their son like a waterfall, and a miniature version of Chip’s mother was standing before them. He was an exact copy of her. 

“That’s incredible! A little freaky, but incredible.” Chip’s mother said, sending a stunned glance to Chip and his husband. Both parents just looked proudly at their son.

After a few minutes of watching the two of them interact, Chip finally decided to clear his throat to get their attention. “All right, we can pick this up at a later time. Why don’t I get us something to eat and we’ll talk over dinner?” He asked,and his mother nodded. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” His mother said, nodding. “I know the cutest little places to eat, but I was thinking that I could treat the three of you. You came all this way, after all. Is that all right?” She asked, tilting her head. 

Chip perked up in surprise, and after sharing a glance with his husband, nodded. “All right, show us the way”

-

The four of them talked throughout dinner. Then some more. Then they got kicked out by the grouchy restaurant owner who just wanted to close up for the night and head home. Chip and Voyant talked, and both of them decided it would be good for them and his mother to stay and help take care of her. There were high days, and there were low days. But Chip could tell that his mother really was trying, and he genuinely appreciated it. In turn, Chip tried as well. While it would never be the same as it was before, it was something new. Maybe that was for the better.

He could tell, however, that she didn’t have much left in her. They all could, even Watermelon. That’s why they made every day an adventure. Something fun. Even when it rained and no one wanted to go out, there they were. A family of oddballs dancing in the rain and splashing in puddles. Then they would all go back and dry off, curl up together, and read a cozy book. 

“Chip,” His mother said one day, when it was just him and her. When he looked at her, she continued. “I want to thank you. You’ve made the past few months amazing for me. Some part of me was afraid that I would have no one in the end, but here you are. You’ve given me the chance to have a family again. I thought I had lost that forever when we were separated by Burn. I am eternally thankful that you decided to give me a second chance and not give up on me.” 

“I definitely had to sit on your letter for a while. But Voyant and Watermelon convinced me to see you, so you should really be thanking them. But I am glad to be here, and I can tell everyone else is, too. What’s this about?” He asked, tilting his head. 

“The drawer. Open it, and you’ll find your answer.” Chip did as he was told, and his heat sank. But then he kind of chuckled to himself as he continued. 

“I see. Are you sure you want to be set on fire though?” Chip asked with a grin, and his mother nodded. 

“Going out in a blaze of glory. I think the dragons of old had some pretty neat traditions, and that’s how I want to be remembered. Forget being buried, this is way cooler.” Chip’s mother said, matching her son’s smile. 

“Ok, I’ll see what I can do.” 

-

Chip sat on the beach, tears dripping down his snout. His mother had passed away hours prior, and his heart was tearing itself to shreds. He had forgiven her a long time ago, but he had only told her on her deathbed. He watched the ‘boat’ sail away, Voyant’s flames blazing brightly. His mother had wanted a warrior’s burial. She had read in old scrolls that there was once a tradition amongst one of the tribes to send their dragons out to sea and a family member would light the boat on fire. Their soul would rise with the flames, and their body would reunite with the ocean. Obviously Chip was unable to do so, but Voyant had complied at his mother’s request. 

Even though he had known this would happen, it still hurt. Perhaps it would have hurt less if he hadn’t showed up at all, instead choosing to stay home and continue running his business like there was nothing wrong. But Voyant would have been right. The letter would have eaten him up from the inside if he hadn’t even touched it. His son would have never gotten to meet his Nanna. Even though he hated seeing the blue on his son’s scales, he could still see patches of gold in them. He was upset, but enamored by the sight in front of them and comforted by the memories they had made. Voyant was sitting beside him, watching the flames eat away at the odd structure. 

Ultimately, Chip was glad he had opened the letter. 

[halo-mango]

Meet the team behind Pyrrhia Times!

Bases created by @jackalthesandwing !

A group of dragons who disseminate a weekly newsletter around Pyrrhia, headquartered in the city of Possibility. The members can be identified by a greenish stain on their talons from the ink used (which is made from a blend of seaweed and squids ink)

Intro to each dragon past the read more!

Director/Proofreader

Name: Factchecker

Species: Nightwing

Pronouns: they/them

Description: a somewhat dull nightwing with an almost dusty appearance but has sharp and intelegent eyes. underscales of wings are dull, and the star patterns aren't very bright compared to other Nightwings. Has final say on anything published.

Editor

Name: Beryl

Species: Icewing

Pronouns: she/her

Description: a gorgeous icewing whose scales catch the light in a certain way to make her always look like she's lit by a winter sunrise. She is a ruthless and harsh editor who puts up an impenetrable ice barrier to her decisions. Very careful with her use of ink to reduce staining on talons.

Reporter/Correspondent

Name: Slag

Species: Sky/Mudwing

Pronouns: he/him

Description: an interesting hybrid resulting in a very strong and fast dragon. Is the strong man of the team often appearing on the scene of current events to report on happenings. Is mostly dark, like hardened lava with red scales that shine brightly like magma.

Columnist/Illustrator

Name: Emerald

Species: Sandwing

Pronouns: she/her

Description: Is particularly clumsy with ink and has very extensive staining on talons and forearms, even known to use her barbed tail for illustrations. Has paler eyes than most sandwings which reveal a striking emerald green in certain lighting. Always seen wearing emerald jewelry earing. Loves gossip.

[thecreaturecodex]

Ulatra

Image © Bastion Press

[Sponsored by Soluman Blevins. The ulatra was clearly some author or editor’s favorite monster--they first appeared in the 3pp Minions book, and then became a major part of the Oathbound campaign setting, to the point of appearing on the cover of one of the books, Plains of Penance, and being a character in a novel in the setting. Their anatomy is frankly baffling, which is why I’ve changed them from a monstrous humanoid into an aberration. Here’s some sketches of their faces, which help make them make more sense. In fact, I think they’re downright cute.]

Ulatra CR 16 CN Aberration This creature is a bestial humanoid half again as tall as a human, with a chitinous exoskeleton that splits in places to reveal cables of muscle. It has four arms—two ending in clawed but prehensile hands, and two in mantis-like talons. It has a zipper-like jaw running down its throat, four long ears, and no fewer than 8 eyes—four set in its head, and four on the tips of cable-like tendrils growing along its back. Its two long tails each end in a nasty stinger, and spiny bristles grow along its back like a mane.

An ulatra is a one-monster army, its body covered in paralyzing spines and its every appendage a weapon. They are clearly a synthetic creature, and many sages suspect the aboleths of being their creators. This is supported by the utter hatred the two species have for each other. In their interactions with other creatures, ulatras are stalkers and trackers first and foremost, but they usually prefer to rob than to kill. These creatures have a magpie-like obsession for treasure, with some individuals collecting only very specific items at a time (red gemstones, for example, or just left boots), whereas others are more broad in their tastes.

Ulatras are intelligent enough to grapple spellcasters, paralyze healers, and otherwise choose their attacks carefully when fighting an entire party at once. Most ulatra attacks, however, involve an individual creature being paralyzed by a spine, robbed of whatever the ulatra finds most interesting, and then abandoned. If the victim of this robbery fights back, however, the ulatra will typically shred it to pieces. Ulatras expand their collections to body parts as well if they kill a victim, and their saliva has unusual preservative properties, allowing their trophies to remain fresh even if stored underwater or in humid environments. Ulatras will usually flee if they are losing a fight, unless their collection is at risk, whereupon they fight to the death.

Ulatras are very uncommon, and can be found in any environment. They breathe both air and water and are surprisingly fast swimmers. They tend to range from their lairs, which are often caves, crevices, hollow trees or rocky pools, hunting for days or weeks at a time and then returning to add their new treasures to their collection. Few ulatras focus on one collectible exclusively over their entire lives, and may have multiple “galleries” reflecting different periods of obsession. A few ulatras can be persuaded to part with older or no-longer favored items as part of parley, and might even trade for a treasure if they are suitably convinced they cannot take it by force.

Perhaps most rare, and most helpful, are ulatras that collect friends. On rare occasions, an ulatra will adopt a single person or creature, or even an entire adventuring party, herd of animals, or community as a part of its collection. These creatures it will defend as zealously as if they were material goods, making it a powerful if somewhat unreliable ally. Ulatras engaged in this behavior can become jealous of newcomers, and may shoot first and ask questions later if they feel that their wards are threatened.

An ulatra stands between eight and nine feet tall upright, but they are just as comfortable walking on four legs as two. Many aspects of their life history—lifespan, how and even if they reproduce—remain a mystery to humanoids.

Ulatra     CR 16 XP 76,800 CN Large aberration (aquatic) Init +9; Senses all-around vision, darkvision 60 ft., Perception +27 Defense AC 31, touch 19, flat-footed 21 (-1 size, +9 Dex, +1 dodge, +12 natural) hp 252 (24d8+144); fast healing 10 Fort +15, Ref +17, Will +18 DR 10/adamantine; Immune acid, paralysis, poison, sleep, stunning; Resist cold 10, electricity 10, fire 10; SR 27 Defensive Abilities evasion Offense Speed 40 ft., climb 30 ft., swim 60 ft. Melee bite +25 (2d8+8/19-20), 2 claws +25 (1d6+8), 2 talons +25 (1d8+8/19-20), 2 stings +25 (1d6+8), eyestalks +20 touch (grab) Ranged 4 spines +26 (1d10+8 plus paralysis) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks mulitgrab, paralysis (Fort DC 28, 2d4 rounds), spiny grapple Statistics Str 26, Dex 28, Con 23, Int 15, Wis 18, Cha 17 Base Atk +18; CMB +27 (+29 sunder, +31 grapple); CMD 47 (49 vs. sunder) Feats Blind-fight, Combat Reflexes, Deadly Aim, Dodge, Great Fortitude, Improved Critical (bite, talon), Improved Sunder, Lightning Reflexes, Point Blank Shot, Power Attack, Step Up Skills Acrobatics +28 (+32 when jumping), Appraise +18, Climb +27, Disable Device +25, Knowledge (geography) +21, Perception +27, Sleight of Hand +25, Stealth +34, Survival +27, Swim +27; Racial Modifiers +4 Perception, +10 Stealth, +4 Perception Languages Aboleth, Aklo, Ulatra SQ amphibious, camouflage Ecology Environment any land, aquatic or underground Organization solitary Treasure double standard Special Abilities Camouflage (Ex) An ulatra can change its coloration at will, granting it a +10 racial bonus to Stealth checks. It does not need cover or concealment to make Stealth checks. Multigrab (Ex) An ulatra can grapple a creature using only its eyestalks at a -10 penalty. If it does so, it does not gain the grappled condition. Paralysis (Ex) A creature paralyzed by an ulatra can attempt to shake off the paralysis by attempting another Fortitude save as a full round action. Spines (Ex) As a standard action, an ulatra can fire four spines from its back. Treat this as a ranged attack with a thrown weapon with a range increment of 40 feet. A creature struck takes 1d10 piercing damage modified by the ulatra’s Strength bonus, and is exposed to the creature’s paralysis. An ulatra can fire up to 20 spines at a time; once these are used, it cannot use this attack, or its spiny grapple ability, for 10 minutes as the spines regrow. Spiny Grapple (Ex) A creature grappled by an ulatra must succeed a DC 30 Reflex save each round or be struck by the ulatra’s spines, taking damage as appropriate. If the ulatra is using its multigrab ability, this save is made with a +4 bonus. The save DC is Strength based.

[sttermsofservice]

In case you weren't aware, fanzines (including ours) are not illegal. They fall under fair use as long as there is no profit being made. For us, if we oversell our printing goal we already have plans to use any extra money to include extra merch items in the merchandise bundle, and the only "payment" editors and creators will receive is their own copies of the zine and merchandise. If fanzines were illegal, Paramount would've gone after the k/s ones when they first appeared. Please don't spread disinformation about this, as it discourages fanzines and encourages big media companies to send baseless cease and desist orders to people too poor or scared to fight them.

Rest assured, our zine is in no way illegal :)

[terastalungrad]

Let's talk about Orientalism and the Celestial Toymaker.

Old Doctor Who has multiple examples of Chinaphobic Oriental villains. The Talons of Weng-Chiang is a Fu Manchu-inspired Yellow Peril story. Mavic Chen is explicitly "clearly part oriental" in the script for The Daleks' Master Plan.

The Toymaker isn't quite as clear-cut. He's dressed as a Mandarin - but in that story, characters dress according to the game they're playing, and the Toymaker is only ever seen playing the Trilogic game. Indeed, script editor Donald Tosh said they avoided making the Toymaker Chinese because they'd recently done Mavic Chen. It also looks like the connection between the word "celestial" and the Celestial Empire was coincidental.

And yet ... it's still not a great look, is it?

So I really like the modern interpretation of the Toymaker. In The Giggle, he's an appropriator. He affects German and French accents - and we see him perform a microaggression against a POC customer. If the Celestial Toymaker of 1966 was a white man dressed in another culture's clothing, the 2023 Toymaker leans into that idea.

And there's something quite satisfying about Gatwa's Doctor naming Mavic Chen in the same episode.

This is a version of Doctor Who that's not just about positive representation for the future - it's also about decolonisation.

The Toymaker and Mavic Chen can be meaningful parts of the story without Orientalism. Just like Davros can exist, without being in a wheelchair.

[whoreviewswho]

By Morning, We Might All Be Dead - Horror of Fang Rock, 1977

Horror of Fang Rock marks a significant turning point in Doctor Who's history which is odd because, insofar as what actually makes it to screen, it would seem reasonable to assume that this serial was just business-as-usual. For the past three years, under the watch of producer Philip Hinchcliffe and script editor Robert Holmes, Doctor Who had overgone a successful transition from an action-packed, primarily earth-based series into a more macabre, gothic-horror infused programme. Despite this turn away from what was a very successful and family-friendly approach, Doctor Who was suddenly at the height of its popularity with the fourteenth season, that finished airing in April 1977, pulling in ratings of approximately eleven million viewers each week. Tom Baker’s fourth incarnation of the eponymous hero was riding an enormous wave of success but, nonetheless, it was decided that things must come to an end. Following vocal criticism of the series' violent and adult direction, including some infamous comments from Mary Whitehouse, the BBC informed Philip Hinchcliffe, during pre-production season fourteen's final serial, that he would be quietly moved on from Doctor Who. Hinchcliffe was redeployed onto a different, notably less family-oriented, programme in the form of Target, a police drama. Swapping in this place would be the creator of Target and its original producer, one Graham Williams.

Williams took up the reigns under strict instructions to reshape the series into something more palatable for the younger viewers. Under his watch, Doctor Who would undergo a drastic, though steady, series of changes away from gothic horror film-pastiches into something more camp, absurdly comedic but high-concept science-fiction adventure serials. This was the beginning of a period where Douglas Adams would be regularly writing and script-editing for the show. Intentionally or otherwise, this was a tonal and stylistic shift that took place over the entirety of season fifteen and, in my opinion, would not entirely find its feet until Williams’ final season. However, at the very top of his reign is something quite different and a story that feels rather fittingly like a last hurrah to the old guard. 

Horror of Fang Rock, if you did not already take the hint, could more than comfortably pass as a Hinchcliffe era Doctor Who. So much is this the case that I frequently stumble across claims that this story was commissioned under his watch even though there is no evidence to suggest such a thing. In fact, it would be impossible. As previously mentioned, Hinchcliffe was made aware of his new assignment before production on The Talons of Weng-Chiang, had even wrapped. All that was set in place for season fifteen while he was still producing were the contracts for our two leading actors and both were negotiated by Williams. Louise Jameson was convinced to sign on for a second year as Leela, despite her difficult working relationship with Tom Baker, on the condition that she would no longer have to wear the uncomfortable brown contact lenses from season fourteen. This stipulation accounts for the somewhat left-field moment in this story's climax where Leela is temporarily blinded only for her sight to return but with different pigments in her eyes. The script does its best to make the scene into a character moment with Leela naively disobeying the Doctor and then asking him to slaughter her when she becomes maimed but it remains a pretty terribly tacked on scene. Tom Baker was unimpressed with Jameson's renewal. Following his insistence to Hinchcliffe and Holmes that he did not need a co-star at all after Elisabeth Sladen's departure, he had grown to dislike Leela as a character finding her too violent and sexually provocative for the programme's audience. Regardless, he signed on for the new season with the suggestion that it would perhaps be his last.

Even though Hinchcliffe had left the series, Robert Holmes remained in his post for the first half of season fifteen and, as such, a very smooth transition can be seen occurring from his sensibilities into that of his successor Anthony Read. For the first story of the season, Holmes called upon his immediate predecessor Terrance Dicks and, aware of the programme's horror sensibilities at that time, offered a script originally entitled The Witch Lords. Later renamed The Vampire Mutation, the scripts were a pastiche of classic Dracula adaptations in the same vein as the previous seasons’ forays into classic literature and cult films such as Frankenstein, Agatha Christie, Sherlock Holmes and so on. However, due to the BBC’s fears of such a production impacting their forthcoming, prestige adaptation of Dracula, the serial was abandoned forcing it from first in production to second and beginning a scramble for a late replacement*. 

Horror of Fang Rock was devised after Holmes suggested an historical based around Edwardian lighthouses, citing Wilfrid Wilson Gibson's 1912 poem Flannan Isle as a basis from which begin. Entirely unfamiliar with lighthouse operations of the period, Dicks frequently claimed that this was Holmes’ attempt at a comeuppance for when he was commissioned by Dicks to write 1973's The Time Warrior with no knowledge of feudal English castles. The Flannan Isle poem is based upon a real incident from December 1900, when a supply ship discovered that the three-man lighthouse crew on Eilean Mòr, one of the Flannan Isles in the Outer Hebrides, had vanished without a trace. Dicks clearly took the basic premise of the poem and the imagery and aesthetic to craft this particular tale. The poem is directly quoted in the serial itself and, yes, it is a very lovely piece of writing that Tom Baker delivers excellently. I do struggle, however, to find a particularly interesting subtextual connection between it and the serial that aired. The story could have actually been Horror on Flannan Isle and nothing would really change which makes me wonder why Dicks just didn't go for that (besides Fang Rock being an obviously more pulpy and memorable title). As is, the poem recital just feels like an unnecessary in-text acknowledgement of Dicks' inspiration.

Given how late a replacement Horror of Fang Rock was, director Paddy Russell had already begun preparing for The Vampire Mutation and was disappointed that the story was abandoned. Russell had already worked on the series thrice before, most recently for season thirteen's Pyramids of Mars, and Fang Rock would prove her final contribution. Russell felt restricted technically and creatively by the lighthouse setting and when scheduling difficulties forced the production to the lesser Pebble Mill Studios, the working environment only became more difficult.

Perhaps it is in part thanks to these tensions, however, that Horror of Fang Rock comes out so well in the wash. This story is dripping with tension and drama. There is an extraordinary claustrophobic quality to the serial that is surely enhanced by the smaller studio space and even more cramped than usual sets. Aside from some occasionally laughable CSO, the disappointingly dodgy model ship and one other awkward effect I'll get to later, Horror of Fang Rock is a stellar production from the costumes to the lighting to the film excerpts to the wonderful score from Dudley Simpson. What Horror of Fang Rock captures better than, dare I say, Pyramids of Mars is a genuine gothic horror flavour. All of the iconography one could expect from such a tale such as foggy nights, ghostly apparitions, grisly deaths and devious characters are all on display here and the story feels incredibly accurate to the era it is calling back to. Horror of Fang Rock has an incredible sense of atmosphere even in the less noticeable choices such as the foghorn which only gets creepier and more intense as the stakes escalate across the story.

None of this is where Horror of Fang Rock excels the most, however. Where this story really shine is in its script, more specifically, in its characters and this is a mightily impressive feat for something assembled in crisis. Despite his closest association with Doctor Who, and his most prolific one, is with the Pertwee era, there is a good case to be made that this is Dicks' tightest script. Every member of this ensemble is wonderfully well-realised, even those with quite little screen-time. Each character feels three-dimensional and distinct from the others. It helps immensely that Dicks' simplistic approach to storytelling stands apart from Holmes' who would have likely shifted focus further away from the cast, relegating them to caricatures rather than characters, and onto the unholy, universe-ending threat. The story begins introducing us to the three keepers; Reuben, Ben and Vince. Immediately, the dynamic between the trio is clear and compelling. We have Reuben as the old hand who is set in his ways and performed excellently by Colin Douglas, Reuben is set in his ways; “In England we have proper customs”. He is a superstitious, sarcastic, racist and arrogant figure. Ben on the other hand, is his counterpoint; embracing the turn of the century. He is all in favour of electric technology, is highly intelligent yet he also carries an air of superiority, quick to boss around his crew mates and scold them. And then there is poor Vince, the naive, new recruit whose innocence and charm serves to make him the most endearing supporting character in this cast by a wide margin. 

The beginning of this serial is just excellent. Again, the whole first part is dripping in atmosphere and makes for an incredibly tight watch. Without ever mentioning the year, the setting is made abundantly clear. Fang Rock story offers some wonderful establishing moments such as the philosophical argument between Vince and Reuben that just plays out like a discursive of the period in the best way possible. This is how you can communicate setting and themes in a script in a way that is clear but not insulting to the audience. That being said, Dicks clearly did his research into lighthouses with a pretty blunt, however delightful, dumping of period accurate facts at every opportunity. It is always nice when Doctor Who returns to its educational roots in some way. Dramatically, a lighthouse is a brilliant setting for a thriller like this with its isolated location and limited cast, stranded, allowing for a lot of suspense and discomfort in the plot. On paper, there is little to seperate this from the Troughton era base-under-siege yet the tone and approach just feels a world away. Even on a basic thematic level, this setting also proves a delightfully rich choice. Lighthouses, after all, signify dangerous coasts. They are used to warn off ships and this is exactly what it is used for in the conclusion of this story. Albeit, not for that kind of ship. 

When we do meet up with our heroes, we find Tom Baker and Louise Jameson on top form. Funnily enough, though, this serial was criticised by Jameson for doing her character a disservice, even going so far as to suggest that Dicks was writing with Sarah Jane in mind instead of Leela. Thankfully, due to her insistence, the finished product serves her a lot better. Whether it is ultimately down to Dicks, Holmes or mostly Jameson's performance, I think that Leela is written very realised in this story and it produced some of her best moments, such as her beautiful first scene with Vince and really every interaction with Adelaide. Pairing her off with what could almost be a more traditional companion archetype (how different are Adelaide and Victoria?) was a brilliant choice and very effective in selling her uniqueness as a leading lady in Doctor Who.

Behind the scenes, this serial also marked a turn for the better in Jameson and Baker's relationship. After being repeatedly upstaged by her co-star despite it not being what they rehearsed, Jameson confronted Baker about his behaviour. It is no secret that Tom Baker's behaviour throughout the Graham Williams era became something of an ongoing issue and that is no less the case with the second serial he produced. Baker severely clashed with Russell on-set due to the former's lack of respect for his director’s regimented and meticulous practice. Baker also became frustrated at Russell's disinterest in taking suggestions from him to alter the material. The most often repeated anecdote from this conflict recalls an incident where Baker flatly refused to take on Russell's direction and repeatedly entered the scene too early as to remain in shot. Following the difficult final block timing the confrontation between the Doctor and the Rutan, Russell decided she would never return to the show and later cited Tom Baker's "difficult" behaviour as the core reason why; 

"Tom Baker was easy to deal with at first, but the part went to his head completely. By the time I did Horror of Fang Rock, he was desperately difficult to work with. His input got totally out of hand. His attitude to his fellow actors was extremely difficult, his attitude to his director was extremely difficult, and his attitude to the crew was extremely difficult. For instance, it was always everybody else’s fault, and never Tom’s. His idea was to have that show to himself. He didn’t want an assistant, and he made their lives hell. Louise Jameson went through hell on that show, and that lady is a very good actress. Fortunately, she’s very tough, and she got a lot of support from everyone else. I found her excellent to work with, but Tom hardly spoke to her, and when he did it was usually something nasty".

Frustratingly, tom Baker's ego was not without reason. The Doctor comes completely alive in this serial thanks to Baker's captivating performance whose sour demeanour on-set manifested as one of the moodiest and most alien performances of his entire run. His performance is electric and he imbues so much presence and awe in every moment he deliberately plants himself in the centre of the frame. The Doctor has any number of charming moments and memorable lines in this serial (“The Malicious Damage Act 1861 covers lighthouses”) but the tone of performance is so distant and bizarre that it leaves him as barely even a comfort for the audience in this unsettling arena, let alone the cast around him. This story shows the Doctor as a fighter for the working class all the way through offering little to no encouragement to the toffs but immediately jumping to the defence of Harker and Vince. Like all of the best stories of this period, Genesis of the Daleks or Pyramids of Mars for notable examples, the Doctor's behaviour goes a long way toward selling the threat. Certainly there is levity and flippancy but those moments of whimsy, for lack of a better term, are complimented by the gravitas and seriousness when dealing with the matter at hand. The villain, the horror and tragedy of the story is never undermined with the humour and is expertly balanced. Horror of Fang Rock also shows that the Doctor is deeply fallible. This is a character who is allowed to make enormous mistakes, such as the chilling moment at the end of episode three when he becomes directly responsible for the situation escalating despite believing he is doing the right thing. It is something that I would have loved to see taken even further in this story and beyond, like how we would eventually get with the Twelfth Doctor. The Doctor's actions are pivotal to the plot changing for the worst and this is one of very few Doctor Who stories where the entire supporting cast is killed. Any form of acknowledgement and reflection from the Doctor about this would have gone a hell of a long way.

In the second episode, three new characters arrive in the form of Palmerdale, Skinsale and Adelaide. A trio of intensely dislikable, greedy, upper class idiots. Palmerdale is an Edwardian socialite attempting to climb above his class, Skinsale a war veteran turned politician and Adelaide who, if she ever worked for me, seems like the most hysterical and witless secretary of all-time. Despite being offered numerous opportunities to perform honourable actions, the three maintain no sense of loyalty to each other, no care for the crew of their ship, frequently betray their selfish morals and sexist values and are obsessed with upholding their respective reputations and statuses of being “honourable” gentlemen and a lady. How laughable. As the story goes on, their behaviour continues to jeopardise the lives of others and, eventually, their own with Palmerdale and Skinsale both being trapped and killed by the creature thanks to their own actions and greedy ambitions. 

Again, these characters are just incredibly well-written. There is a stark contrast in the use or language between the lighthouse crew and the gentry that effortlessly illustrates the cultural divide of the period without any dialogue directly acknowledging such a thing. When the toffs do speak to the keepers, they remain emotionally distant, referring to them only in generalities or by their surnames. Compare that to the Doctor and Leela who immediately talk amongst Vince and Reuben as their friends and equals. Horror of Fang Rock showcases the worst of what Edwardian England has to offer from people of all walks of life.

This, naturally, allows for some strong thematic beats to be teased out of these characters. The most blatant, of course, is the previously alluded to parallel between the perceived savage and the supposed enlightened lady. It is the latter of these who is seeking answers in horoscopes and the former who suggests broadening her mind with the world of science and education. Skinsale is an ex-military character and the natural parallel to the alien threat who itself is a scouting soldier. I am sure it is no mistake that the self-proclaimed exemplar of the British military dies in a pathetic scramble to get his hands on some diamonds. Unlike everybody else on the Rock, the Rutan is a perfectly adaptable creature yet it has no individuality. Perhaps Is this fact that makes it such a powerful, concentrated threat and the humans such an emotional, self-defeating rabble. None of the cast, after all, show any signs of being capable to adapt to survive. Save for Leela and the Doctor, everybody in the story is close minded and dies blindly sticking to their principles. Perhaps this is a more deeply cynical notion than Dicks intended to convey. Regardless his story creates a wonderful contrast of the animalistic/tribalistic notion that the Rutan embodies, killing everybody in sight to determine the strength of humanity, versus the supposed civilised qualities of Edwardian ladies and gentlemen who squabble and are selfish and ultimately bring about their own demise. Horror of Fang Rock marks the only appearance to date of the Rutans in Doctor Who, first mentioned in The Time Warrior as the arch-enemy of the Sontarans. I wonder if Dicks chose this threat specifically to subtly rib at Holmes for the difficult assignment. It is a very amusing choice to depict the villain of the stiff, squat and toadish Sontarans as a nebulous, shape-changing jellyfish but it has to be said that the realisation on-screen is less than remarkable. It does not kill the serial but I do think the threat is much more menacing as an unseen, bubbling threat. The special sounds from Dick Mills are decidedly more iconic and frightening than the design and operation of the puppet.

But a ropey monster effect is really the most minor of gripes to have with a Doctor Who story, especially of this period. Horror of Fang Rock is a hell of a good story. The production is remarkable with fantastic characters and a delightfully chilling threat. This is a serial that never fails to suck me in whenever I put it on and remains one of my all-time favourites. Yes, there are some lovely thematic ideas going on here that are deeply rooted in the culture of being English and the traditions of ghost stories and murder mysteries but this is not the core appeal. Let its not kid ourselves into thinking that this is a hidden Kinda or Ghost Light. Terrance Dicks did not do those kinds of Doctor Whos. What he does offer us here, in arguably his sole proper contribution to the Hinchcliffe/Holmes mould is a compelling, expertly structured horror story with just enough meat to it. As the Williams era begins to take shape in the serials following, I do feel a twinge of disappointment that stories of this vein so quickly disappeared from his tenure. The very last gasp of the gothic horror Who would come two stories later with Image of the Fendahl and the Williams era would never again aim for 'scary' as a target goal (by orders of the BBC, for what that disclaimer is worth). 

But perhaps this is what the beginning of the new era really needed; a positive affirmation of what the programme had become, demonstrating what it was at that time in as straightforward and effective a manner as possible. From this statement, we can move on and head into new directions. And let us be fair, even if Williams did go for the old-school scares again, could he really have peaked much higher than this? 

*The original vampire serial was not entirely abandoned. It finally made its way to screen in 1980 as part of season eighteen, albeit, heavily rewritten and retitled State of Decay. 

[the-travelling-witch]

Talons the dark blue haired one correct? I mean he is blue Jay after all hehe

a basic guide to my ocs!! ^^ (the picrews are obviously not 100% accurate)

Name: Dantalion

Nickname: Talion

Occupation: Majolish Owner and Devil Style Chief Editor

Hair style and colour: (well he can technically shapeshift but most of the time) Long blond hair, often worn (half) up

Eye colour: Bright caleidoscopic

Demon Form Inspiration: Peacock

Series: Of Flowers and Gems

Name: Valefar

Nickname: Val

Occupation: Casino Owner (Lion’s Share)

Hair style and colour: Shorter dark hair

Eye colour: Amber

Demon Form Inspiration: Lion

Series: Deal with the Devil

Name: Stolas

Streamer Name: Blue Jay

Occupation: Streamer and student

Hair style and colour: Grown out wavy hair, going from black roots to dark cobalt blue tips; often clipped or tied out of his face

Eye colour: Blue

Demon Form Inspiration: Blue Jay

Series: no series yet!

[filmcityworld1]

I DO NOT OWN BEETLEJUICE THEY BELONG TO WARNER BROTHERS

The footage and images featured in this video are for commentary and education which are protected under the Fair Use laws of the United States Copyright Act of 1976.

hey guys sorry again about this taking along time but hope you enjoy it

one day on cathy's birthday bj give her a doll that she absolutely loves but for the rest of the family there not sure about it

my social media pages

https://www.instagram.com/thelooneytoonchick/

https://twitter.com/nightsky19931

(discord) nightsky1993#9077

https://www.tumblr.com/filmcityworld1

https://www.deviantart.com/filmcity

intro by SusanNBoyer3

https://twitter.com/SusanNBoyer3

editor by go-whovian-universe

https://www.tumblr.com/go-whovian-universe

title card by numbnutspo

https://www.tumblr.com/numbnutspo

the cast

bj played by fawkesthedreg

https://www.tumblr.com/fawkesthedreg

lydia played by Vannamarie333

https://www.castingcall.club/Vannamarie333

barbra played by chaotic_kryptid

https://www.instagram.com/chaotic_kryptid/

delia played by oddpitterpatter

https://www.instagram.com/oddpitterpatter/

adam/charles played by thealmightyemprex

https://www.tumblr.com/thealmightyemprex

cathy played by lilbittasparkle

https://www.instagram.com/lilbittasparkle/

narrator played by Lady Theta

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UChoO9Gf8U_ACAWNRxVXADsg

the music

Glimpsing Infinity by Asher Fulero

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCKn6_1iFFC5fxSmFgVC9Fsw

Underwater Exploration by GODMODE

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCD_grdLAvD4nqcqck2E-tuw

In Memory of Jean Talon by The Mini Vandals

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCTdSDPjB1kle7puRKAuHP_g