#roman woman by the pond

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Pavel Aleksandrovich Svedomsky (Russian, 1848-1904) Roman woman by the pond, 1888 Omsk Regional Museum of Fine Arts

[thekingofspin]

How often do you think of the roman empire?

EVERY SINGLE DAY.

[cbraxs]

Warped [Time Warp Trio Fanfiction] - Chapter 17

The Palace of Versailles was beyond magnificent. It was a nearly ninety million (yes, million) square feet estate covered in gardens, winding walkways, and topiary, with the main attraction the palace itself, a towering presence of marble white and cream that glowed in the night brighter than the hundreds of candles lighting up the night.

The soft winter breeze carried the fragrance of flowers through the night air. The din of excitable chatter nearly drowned out the airy sounds of several flutes, harpsichords, and violas.

It would have left Anthony breathless… if he had been there on holiday.

He imagined Isadora would’ve adored the palace, trying to capture every pond, fountain, garden, and tree to recreate later in her artwork. She’d ask a dozen questions and inexplicably have a dozen more answers. She’d love it so much she’d beg to stay for just a few more minutes and, of course, Anthony would give in.

He sighed and placed his mask on his face. He couldn’t afford to get distracted with thoughts of his daughter, not when he was purposely heading into a trap. He had to be alert. Focused.

Anthony was glad he warped close to the entrance, and even happier he was hidden behind a large yew tree. The estate was positively crowded with hundreds of gilded carriages and thousands of guests dressed to the teeth made their way inside. Women dressed in big baroque dresses decked with ribbons and bows. Meanwhile the men looked almost as extravagant, wearing every color under the sun. Many of them wore masks similar to Anthony’s, allowing them to enter without invitation.

With a snap of his fingers, his outfit changed to match that of the aristocratic party guests. Green mist shimmered around his form and when it vanished he wore a green frock made of silk and velvet with gold embellishments. White breeches, black boots, and a jabot-- fluffy white neckwear-- completed the look, and with his green and gold domino mask, he blended in with the crowd.

Anthony recognized when and where he was: The Yew Ball. The celebration of the marriage between the Dauphin of France, Louis Ferdinand de France, the son of King Louis the XV, and the Infanta of Spain, Maria Teresa Rafaela. Many of the guests were looking for the king for even a simple glimpse of His Majesty, but Anthony had a different target he was hunting down.

Mad Jack had to be here. Even if this were a trap (and it absolutely was) and he did not need to be there, he’d still be here. The man couldn’t help himself. He had this deep psychological urge to gloat even at the cost of his goals. It was infuriating but could work to Anthony’s advantage.

The Warp Wizard made his way through crowded courtyards, making polite and short conversations to not stand out. His eyes scanned every masked face and accessed everybody for a familiar lanky build, but there was no sign of Jack.

Past fountains and Roman-styled statues, he came across the ballroom, a wide open space situated outside surrounded by fountains and beautifully shaped hedges. Couples waltzed along to the lovely music while others socialized on the sidelines. Anthony scanned the dance floor when he saw “her.”

Across the dance floor was a woman with an oversized white powdered wig and an unbelievably big and bright green dress. She stood out like a broken arm.

Anthony ignored his years of training to blend in and go unnoticed. He stormed across the ballroom to reach her, blind to the strange looks from the other guests. As if sensing Anthony’s presence, the bearer of the bad wig turned around, a wicked grin under his mustache and a mean gleam behind a monocle.

“I’ll be damned.” Mad Jack snapped his fan shut with a dramatic flourish. “Look who the cat dragged in. It’s Anthony the Steadfast.”

“You look ridiculous.”

Jack laughed, like anything in this situation was funny. “Is that any way to talk to a lady?”

“Don’t play games. Why did you bring me here?”

He had the nerve to tut-tut-tut at him, waggling his finger like a disappointed guidance counselor. “So impatient. Why don’t you ask me to dance first?”

Anthony could arrest him now. Send him to Em and be done. But he needed answers and playing along with this silly game might be the only way he might ever understand what this nutter was up to.

He held out his hand and grimaced when Jack placed his gloved hand in his. The two of them glided to the dance floor, falling into the practiced waltz they’ve done a dozen times back in their academy days.

“You’re looking well,” Jack said.

Anthony snorted. “Like you ever cared for my well-being.”

“You got me there. Never could stand your meatheadedness.”

He’s been called much worse. As Anthony rolled his eyes, he caught a glimpse of something resting against Jack’s collarbone. It was a necklace of pure gold, two bands coiled around each other like serpents.

The madman noticed what Anthony was looking at and smiled. “Lovely, is it not? A perfect copy of the Necklace of Harmonia. I took it off the hands of a witch who was squandering its power.”

Jack was a thief. That was nothing new, he always had sticky fingers even when they were young. At first, it was endearing, but then he started taking historical artifacts. Important items that always got him in trouble, and for what?

“What do you want, Jack?”

“What do I want? As if anyone has ever given a flying fury about what I wanted. If they had then we wouldn't be here now, would we?”

Anthony could never comprehend the sheer entitlement of this manbaby. Ever since they met, it was all about what the universe owed to him, what he deserved. Like a disease, it’s only gotten worse with age.

“I suppose,” he mused, “that’s not entirely true. Dulari cared, once. That is before you and my simpleton of a brother corrupted her with your utter incompetence and softness.”

“You do not get to talk about her that way! Not after the way you treated her.”

“She didn’t do anything she didn’t want to do.”

Anthony stopped dead midstep. His jaw was tight. He clenched Jack’s hands in a death grip with his, and he briefly imagined them around his neck.

Jack’s smirk widened. “Uh-uh-uh. Remember the Academy’s golden rule: Don’t cause a scene~”

Anthony dropped Jack’s hands and sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to fight you. That gets us nowhere. Just tell me what you want with Isadora.”

“What makes you think I want—”

“For once in your life tell me the truth! I know what you’re up to, so why don’t you just admit it.”

A bluff. He still had no clue what the maniac was up to, but he hoped this would catch him off guard.

Apparently, it worked. Jack’s playful features morphed into shock before he quickly reclaimed his demeanor. “What does it matter? With those little earrings, I can’t get near her, anyway. Sounds like you’ve already solved the problem.”

Anthony’s heart skipped. Time slowed around them. “You’ve been around her?”

“I’ve had some run-ins, nothing you need to worry your empty little head about. But I must say, you ought to be ashamed. You stifled Isadora’s potential, fed her with half-truths and lies. She’s weak, nowhere near as powerful as Dulari, but for my purposes, she’s the best bet. If she doesn’t survive the process, then it’s no fault of mine, now is it?”

A chill swept through the ball. The horror of what he said hit Anthony like a crashing wave. Rage took hold of Anthony. In a blink, his fist, glowing green with magic, slammed into Jack’s face. The man flew past the dance floor, past hedges and shrieking guests, crashing through a gilded window.

Anthony summoned his wand. With a wave, he vanished and reappeared near where his fist carried Jack off to: The Hall of Mirrors.

He yelled for the few remaining guests to flee, and thankfully they listened. Hundreds of people poured out of the hall past statues and mirrors until the two of them were left alone.

He pointed his wand at Jack and raised him above the rubble and glass. The wig disappeared in the flight. His dress was in tatters revealing his suit underneath because of course, he was wearing his suit under the dress.

Manic laughter erupted from Jack’s upturned lips, speckled with red.

The blood in Antony’s veins boiled. “She is not your damned battery!”

Jack shot his hand forward. Anthony dodged out of the way of the cane sword that whizzed by, the tip barely slicing through the sleeve of his suit and grazing his arm. He winced in pain, dropping Jack in the process. Jack landed with a crouch and shot a bolt of magic at the chandelier overhead. Crystal shards as sharp as daggers plummeted down over Anthony. He would have been skewered if he hadn’t jumped out of the way, skidding ungracefully in shoes not meant for combat.

The chandelier exploded in a plume of shredded crystals. Quartz shrapnel splintered in every direction. Anthony whipped his wand like a lasso and caught the crystals overhead, hurling them back at Jack. He dodged; hardwood and dirt erupted where he once stood. He vanished in the cloud of debris.

Fire from the candles spread throughout the room, coating the room in red and orange light. Air burned in Anthony’s lungs. The flames reached high above them, licking at the marble walls and painted ceiling.

Anthony wiped at the beads of sweat forming on his brow. Cautiously, he approached where Jack lay, a pair of magic-proof handcuffs appearing in his hands in a flash of green.

“I’m finally taking you in, Mad Jack. Under Em’s authority, you are—“

Sharp pain flared from his shoulder blade. The fez-wearing man from the diner stood behind him, pulling the blade from his back, a wicked grin under lifeless eyes.

Another stab at Anthony’s side brought him to his knees. His vision doubled and blurred. He struggled to keep balance on his knees. Poison, he thought groggily. The blade was poisoned. The warmth of blood bloomed from his wounds soaking his clothes and staining the floor.

From the dust clouds, Jack emerged. Hate radiated throughout his body. He stalked towards his fallen ex-friend brandishing his sword.

“Finally, I can be rid of at least one thorn in my side.” He raised his sword, primed to rend Anthony’s head from his body weakened. “But fear not, old friend. Isadora will be in capable hands, at last.”

He swung. But the blade never touched his neck.

A flash of green as bright as the sun slammed Jack like a freight train. A blur of purple rushed past, but Anthony didn’t have the strength to follow it. His magic fizzled in and out as he tried miserably to heal his wounds. Behind him, Jack and a familiar voice shouted back and forth. Swords clashed and magic blazed. A flash of golden light seized the room, then… nothing. Silence. He couldn’t distinguish the roar of the fire and his blood rushing through his ears.

A moment passed before the sounds of footsteps quickly approached from behind. Anthony tensed.

“Anthony! Oh, dear. You’re hurt! Can you move?”

“… Joe?”

Joe the Magnificent stood before him. His purple suit was torn and his mustache was smoldering. Joe tried to help him stand, stopping when Anthony grunted in pain and nearly collapsed.

Joe frowned and fished out his pocket watch from his breast pocket. “Please hold on, my friend!”

Somewhere between bleeding out and warping, Anthony passed out, his thoughts on his daughter, her sweet face clear in his mind as everything else faded away.

[eggplantmaniac420]

A squadron of bug-eyed police officers with binoculars, three veteran detectives working round the clock, a pack of sniffing bloodhounds straining against their leashes and howling into the night, a swarm of camera drones, a human chain of volunteers combing the area, The Neighborhood Watch, two rival news helicopters competing to broadcast the best live coverage to people all around the globe, twenty searchlights stapled together, crowd of curious onlookers prone to uttering "oohs" and "ahs", a paranoid drug dealer across the street who's freaking out about all the cops, two spy planes working in shifts to ensure constant surveillance, a colony of cockroaches trained to report back to the CIA, a vast coalition of CCTV cameras, a security guard snoring in front of the monitor, an old fogey with a dousing rod and a plumbob, a horde of purposeful paparazzi weighed down with expensive telephoto lenses, somebody hiding in the grassy knoll, a carrot-eating eagle, a panoply of reliable eyewitnesses, a dubiously-effective psychic with downright unreasonable rates for divination, a peeping tom peering eagerly through a gap in the blinds, a heat-seeking missile that has never once missed in its entire career, a spotterless sniper, a sniperless spotter (a conflict of personalities, you see), a grizzled tracker numbed to life after a man-eating shrew tore his wife to shreds, a cocky crewman in the crow's nest, a band of Ostrogoths who have been waiting for 1600 hundred years to ambush a Roman patrol that never came, a sinister pair of disembodied eyes that can float wherever they please and gaze upon whatever they desire, a tourist just taking in the sights, a sparsely-manned border outpost built long ago in case an ancient enemy should one day return, a seasoned referee whose impartiality is legendary, an astronaut looking out the window and squinting - really squinting, The Panopticon, a powder-faced woman leaning over a balcony with a pair of opera glasses, a curious cat, a periscope poking up out of the local pond, a frustrated father who pauses occasionally to scratch his head and exclaim "Where in the hell...", an optometrist gone mad with sight-enhancing power, an omniscient godhead with perfect knowledge of the universe from the largest galactic superstructure down to the smallest quark across the entire expanse of time, and a nervous guy waiting outside the drug dealer's house with a wad of wrinkled ten dollar bills in his pocket

vs.

Someone standing behind the curtain and trying not to giggle

[ditipatri]

All Theoi are completely and utterly accepting of trans individuals. Their message is to spread love and positivity, not hatred between their worshippers. Mortals who turn Deities into sources of hate and use them as an excuse for bigotry are not true worshippers and will never receive Divine support. 

There are multiple examples of trans experiences that are described in myths of Venus, Diana, and other stories of the past. While the interpretation of many of these stories is up to us due to how scarce and non-detailed the sources are, we as modern worshippers can analyze these myths as stories depicting trans individuals receiving their deserved place among the worshippers and followers of the Gods. 

This post is to both tackle the horrible misuse of Venus’ and Diana’s names as well as spread positivity about transgender individuals inside of their respective worship circles. 

Venus is a Goddess who spreads love, be it love for another or love for your own self, and of course that includes acceptance and love for transgender individuals. 

Over the centuries she has been praised in multiple ways, which includes presentation with both sets of genitalia depending on the cult, while the Goddess Herself was either dressed as a woman or fully undressed. The ways Venus has always been depicted varied as Her very nature varies for Love has no “correct” way of being portrayed. 

There are Greek terracotta figurines as well as Roman bronze statues depicting Venus in Her masculine incarnation that had the name of Afroditus or Afrodito. Afroditus was often depicted as bearded (Afrodite / Afrodito barbuta), holding a scepter, and possessing a phallus for genitalia. According to Macrobius, the cult was created and spread over Cyprus, the mythological birthplace of the Goddess. This Venus is a beautiful, harmonic combination of the masculine and the feminine, and she is often merged with Hermaphroditus, whose story is a well-known example of a transgender individual in myth.

Hermaphroditus, most often referred to as the child of Venus and Mercury, though the stories vary, was a youth who bathed in a pond that was a Nymph named Salmacis, whose feminine essence alternated Hermaphroditus’ nature and made them a combination of two harmonized beginnings. 

Some Ancient sources speak on the cult of Venere Castina (”Chaste Venus”), sometimes used interchangeably with Aphrodite Urania, who was said to turn those Scythians willing to commit a pilgrimage to Her temple into women. There was as well a tradition noted by some Roman authors that those willing to devote to this incarnation of the Goddess would self-castrate and turn to feminine self-identification. While the story is, of course, old and lacks our modern understanding of gender, it clearly expresses Venus’ complete comfort with the idea of transitioning. 

Transwomen have always been more than welcome in the worship of Venus. Venus has always been both depicted in ways that represent and empower transwomen as well as has always accepted them into Her circle. Venus has no care for one’s assigned gender at birth nor one’s genitalia, and anyone who says otherwise is spreading a message opposite to the one this Goddess wants you to hear.  She is love, not hatred.

Diana unfortunately often becomes a target of hubristic misinformation that turn Her into a man-hating Goddess instead of respecting Her as an empowering woman who empowers other women, trans or cis. Just like other Theoi, Diana is, of course, completely accepting of transwomen and has had a history of favoritism for some, though rare, men throughout Her mythological path. 

The most popular example of Diana taking in a transwoman is that of Siproites who, born as a prince, was granted the permission by the Goddess to acquire female appearance and join Diana’s hunt. The fact She allows Siproites to change her assigned gender and be with Her huntresses shows Diana’s comfortability with the idea of transitioning. Not only transwomen were allowed into Diana’s circles, but rare men were, as well, which of course shows how She holds no distaste towards anyone based on nothing but their gender - She is not a biased Goddess and it’s hubris to portray Her so.

This example is quite notable as another story, that of Acteon, depicts Diana as furios at a man for watching Her and Her huntresses without Her consent as well as showing hubris, which leads to him being turned into a stag and hunted down. Depending on the source, the story changes, but Her wrath eventually reaches Acteon. She doesn’t hate men for being men - She had a reason to punish him.

The most famous example of Diana trusting and accepting a man would be the story of Hippolytus, who devoted to the Goddess that he found solace in for he did not want to ever marry. As it can be seen here, Diana holds no bias for anyone based on their assigned gender or presentation. 

Lastly, there are various variants of the story of Orion the hunter and how close he was to Diana. While there are stories speaking of Her being enemies with him, there are also stories of Her either appreciating, favoriting, or loving him. 

Diana is not a man-hater, nor is she someone who cares what genitalia Her worshippers are born with. As long as She is someone you personally find solace in, She wil l accept you and love you. 

To finish it up on a positive note, I’d like to enumerate Greco-Roman myths that mention transgender and intersex individuals as well as other Ancient experiences of transition. There are much more than I can mention, of course, and personal myth interpretation is up to each person: 

Attis was an intersex being serving as an intermediary between the Gods and the Mortals, tightly connected to Cybele

Tiresia, born as Tiresius, was described in Ovid’s Metamorphosis to have become a woman

Ceneus was a transgender man, gifted his gender by the God Poseidon in response to his mother’s pleas 

Dionysus was not only portrayed in a variety of combinations of the feminine and the masculine aspects, but also had festivals where men and women acquired the opposite gender’s role 

Cybele in Rome had a cult that only accepted individuals identifying as women, but those women born AMAB would join it as well

Leucippus, born AFAB and raised as a boy, was granted a gender change by the Goddess Leto 

Regardless of your gender or what genitalia you have, you’re welcome to worship both Venus and Diana, and both of them will welcome you into their circles with love, and nothing but love. 

Note: Do not use any decor from this post. It was made by me, images not mine. 

Sources in pinned.

[moonshynecybin]

Taking the ama very seriously, so ... top 3 doctor who companions and top 3 reincarnations bc I need to know this

i’m doing this as a set do NOT separate frequently bought together. okay with the understanding i love them allll so so much:

1. tenrose. invented love to teenage me. most likely era to appear actually physically on my blog. ninerose also up there they are a beautiful lesbian couple and inseparable from tenrose imo.

2. eleven and the ponds were the team i started watching at so i do love them :D not much to say i don’t rewatch it a bunch but they give me so many nice nostalgic feelings… amy pond the woman that you areeee. lowkey the funniest outside of donna but she DOES clear them in that regard. unfortunate moffat stuff present here but. whatever honestly it’s so fun !! there are vampires and romans and pirates i like it.

2. twelveclara bc they are SO fucked up. just rewatched their seasons ans like. the actual episode plots are meh but their relationship is so genuinely insane. she like. CHEATEDDD on the soldier boyfriend of hers. FULL emotional affair that everyone is well aware is happening it’s so crazy. voted companion most likely to dogwalk the doctor in some weird sex power thing they BOTH deny is happening. also kind of lesbians to me. twelve is so swaggy he deserved better dumb one off episodes tbh

[inharmcnia]

Basic information

Name: Nora Jazairi, born Noura al-Jazairi

Title(s): None

Referred to as: Miss Jazairi

Nickname(s): None

Age: Forty-one, born 3 February 1882

Gender: Cis woman

Sexual orientation: Biromantic, bisexual

Occupation: Lady’s maid

Nationality: Naturalised British citizen. Previously French Algerian.

Religion: Technically Roman Catholic, but her relationship with religion is complicated. She was brought up vaguely Muslim, but was educated in Catholic school and regularly attends Mass.

Class: Working class

Place of birth: Algiers, French Algeria

Hometown: London, U.K.

Faceclaim: Sofia Boutella

Physical description

Height: 5’5’’

Weight: Around 125 lbs

Build: Slim, long and lean with narrow and sharp edges

Distinguishing marks: None

Hair colour: Dark brown

Hair style: Long, always worn up and pulled back. While shorter hair would be more fashionable, she finds long hair is easier to keep out of the way. Besides, she doesn’t mind resembling a Pre-Raphaelite beauty.

Eye colour: Dark brown

Clothing: What is expected of her. Simple day and evening dress depending on the occasion. While even the clothes she wears on a rare day off are far from showy, they’re always neat and fit her well.

Scent(s): Pond’s Cold Cream, lemon hand lotion, whatever soap she’s using.

Accent: Something between RP and Estuary English. Decidedly English.

Personality

Summary: Both extremely easy to read and nearly impossible to truly figure out, Nora has spent her adult life leading a fairly uncomplicated existence. Her face will betray her if she's expected to lie for any reason, but she knows when to speak and how much she needs to say to avoid any questions she might not want to answer. As much as she would love to be the mysterious, dramatic female hero of her own story, the truth is much more simple; she's a quick learner and knows what is expected of her. Still, she's not some artful manipulator, either, nor is she interested in becoming one. Truly, she's much too soft-hearted for that.

Virtues: Affable, diligent, perceptive, resourceful, self-aware.

Vices: Credulous, indecisive, nosy, short-sighted, single-minded.

Moral alignment: True neutral

Natal chart: TBD

Habits: Emulating and matching the body language of those around her, tidying up and straightening things in her close proximity, fiddling with anything she’s holding when nervous, smiling when anxious or uncomfortable.

Character tropes: Single Woman Seeks Good Man, Idealist vs. Pragmatist, For Happiness, (hopefully) Earn Your Happy Ending

Family ties

Parent(s): Emir al-Jazairi & Rabia Mahrez

Sibling(s): None

Spouse: Has never been married. Has been almost engaged once.

Child/ren: None

Miscellaneous headcanons:

In addition to English, she speaks French and Arabic. Having been educated by Roman Catholic nuns, she also obviously understands a fair bit of Latin.

TBA

Wanted plots

Nora might dream of an easier life filled with some sort of wealth, but her loyalties lie with the working class and those with similar circumstances to her. Someone could potentially exploit said loyalties and make her more sympathetic to whatever cause they themselves believe in.

That being said, she does have perhaps unearned admiration and loyalty towards whatever lady or family she's serving. Her devotion and love cannot be bought, but she's not above being bribed with either material goods or social capital. So, please test her. It's going to be torturous for her.

TBA

[catenaaurea]

The Roman Catechism

Part Two: The Sacraments

THE SACRAMENT OF BAPTISM (cont.)

Matter of Baptism

Now since we said above, when treating of the Sacraments in general, that every Sacrament consists of matter and form, it is therefore necessary that pastors point out what constitutes each of these in Baptism. The matter, then, or element of this Sacrament, is any sort of natural water, which is simply and without qualification commonly called water, be it sea water, river water, water from a pond, well or fountain.

Testimony Of Scripture Concerning The Matter Of Baptism

For the Savior taught that unless a man be born again of water and the Holy Ghost, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. The Apostle also says that the Church was cleansed by the laver of water; and in the Epistle of St. John we read these words: There are three that give testimony on earth: the spirit, and the water, and the blood. Scripture affords other proofs which establish the same truth.

When, however, John the Baptist says that the Lord will come who will baptize in the Holy Ghost, and in fire, that is by no means to be understood of the matter of Baptism; but should be applied either to the interior operation of the Holy Ghost, or at least to the miracle performed on the day of Pentecost, when the Holy Ghost descended on the Apostles in the form of fire, as was foretold by Christ our Lord in these words: John indeed baptized with water, but you shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost, not many days hence.

Figures

The same was also signified by the Lord both by figures and by prophecies, as we know from Holy Scripture. According to the Prince of the Apostles in his first Epistle, the deluge which cleansed the world because the wickedness of men was great on the earth, and all the thought of their heart was bent upon evil, was a figure and image of this water. To omit the cleansing of Naaman the Syrian, and the admirable virtue of the pool of Bethsaida, and many similar types, manifestly symbolic of this mystery, the passage through the Red Sea, according to St. Paul in his Epistle to the Corinthians, was typical of this same water.

Prophecies

With regard to the predictions, the waters to which the Prophet Isaias so freely invites all that thirst, and those which Ezekiel in spirit saw issuing from the Temple, and also the fountain which Zachary foresaw, open to the house of David, and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem: for the washing of the sinner, and of the unclean woman, were, no doubt, intended to indicate and express the salutary waters of Baptism.

Fitness

The propriety of constituting water the matter of Baptism, of the nature and efficacy of which it is at once expressive, St. Jerome, in his Epistle to Oceanus, proves by many arguments.

Upon this subject pastors can teach in the first place that water, which is always at hand and within the reach of all, was the fittest matter of a Sacrament which is necessary to all for salvation. In the next place water is best adapted to signify the effect of Baptism. It washes away uncleanness, and is, therefore, strikingly illustrative of the virtue and efficacy of Baptism, which washes away the stains of sin. We may also add that, like water which cools the body, Baptism in a great measure extinguishes the fire of concupiscence.

Chrism Added To Water For Solemn Baptism

But it should be noted that while in case of necessity simple water unmixed with any other ingredient is sufficient for the matter of this Sacrament, yet when Baptism is administered in public with solemn ceremonies the Catholic Church, guided by Apostolic tradition, has uniformly observed the practice of adding holy chrism which, as is clear, more fully signifies the effect of Baptism. The people should also be taught that although it may sometimes be doubtful whether this or that water be genuine, such as the perfection of the Sacrament requires, it can never be a subject of doubt that the only matter from which the Sacrament of Baptism can be formed is natural water.

Form of Baptism

Having carefully explained the matter, which is one of the two parts of which Baptism consists, pastors must show equal diligence in explaining the form, which is the other essential part. In the explanation of this Sacrament a necessity of increased care and study arises, as pastors will perceive, from the circumstance that the knowledge of so holy a mystery is not only in itself a source of pleasure to the faithful, as is generally the case with regard to religious knowledge, but also very desirable for almost daily practical use. As we shall explain in its proper place, circumstances often arise where Baptism requires to be administered by the laity, and most frequently by women; and it therefore becomes necessary to make all the faithful, indiscriminately, well acquainted with whatever regards the substance of this Sacrament.

Words Of The Form

Pastors, therefore, should teach, in clear, unambiguous language, intelligible to every capacity, that the true and essential form of Baptism is: I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. For so it was delivered by our Lord and Savior when, as we read in St. Matthew He gave to His Apostles the command: Going, . . . teach ye all nations: baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.

By the word baptizing, the Catholic Church, instructed from above, most justly understood that the form of the Sacrament should express the action of the minister; and this takes place when he pronounces the words, I baptize thee.

Besides the minister of the Sacrament, the person to be baptized and the principal efficient cause of Baptism should be mentioned. The pronoun thee, and the distinctive names of the Divine Persons are therefore added. Thus the complete form of the Sacrament is expressed in the words already mentioned: I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.

Baptism is the work not of the Son alone, of whom St. John says, He it is that baptizeth, but of the Three Persons of the Blessed Trinity together. By saying, however, in the name, not in the names, we distinctly declare that in the Trinity there is but one Nature and Godhead. The word name is here referred not to the Persons, but to the Divine Essence, virtue and power, which are one and the same in Three Persons.

Essential And Non-Essential Words Of The Form

It is, however, to be observed that of the words contained in this form, which we have shown to be the complete and perfect one, some are absolutely necessary, so that the omission of them renders the valid administration of the Sacrament impossible; while others on the contrary, are not so essential as to affect its validity.

Of the latter kind is the word ego (I), the force of which is included in the word baptizo (I baptise). Nay more, the Greek Church, adopting a different manner of expressing the form, and being of opinion that it is unnecessary to make mention of the minister, omits the pronoun altogether. The form universally used in the Greek Church is: Let this servant of Christ be baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. It appears, however, from the decision and definition of the Council of Florence, that those who use this form administer the Sacraments validly, because the words sufficiently express what is essential to the validity of Baptism, that is, the ablution which then takes place.

Baptism In The Name Of Christ

If at any time the Apostles baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ only, we can be sure they did so by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, in order, in the infancy of the Church, to render their preaching more illustrious by the name of Jesus Christ, and to proclaim more effectually His divine and infinite power. If, however, we examine the matter more closely, we shall find that such a form omits nothing which the Savior Himself commands to be observed; for he who mentions Jesus Christ implies the Person of the Father, by whom, and that of the Holy Ghost, in whom, He was anointed.

[agent-barnes40]

Betrayal

Part 0

The History.

Warnings: Timeline fuckery, Missy being Missy, a child literally murdering someone, regeneration of a child, EVERYONE IS HERE, lying, Yelling

Characters: The Fam, OC, Missy, The Doctor(11 and 12), The Ponds, Bill Potts, Nardole, River Song

Taglist: @asacolyte​

A small child, dressed just as extravagant as their parent, gripped a man’s throat. “You may call me Princess.” The child growled, before tossing the man to the ground, and holding a sonic to the man’s nose. “I can kill you without a singular thought.” 

The child looked up as pain shot through their abdomen, their hand reaching for the pain and noticing their hearts speeding up, just as footsteps started to reach them. “HELP!” They cried out, hoping it was their parent, coming back, hoping, praying even, and their heart dropping when they saw a young man in a tweed jacket running over and pressing a hand on the massive blood spot on their abdomen.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise, really. Its gonna be okay kiddo. What’s your name?” The man asked, as the child recognized who the man was. It was The Doctor. 

“My name is Missy.” The child lied as they started paling and their hands glowing. “You should move back, mister. I dont want to hurt you.” 

“What do you mean?” The Doctor asked, and then his eyes widened as they saw the child’s hands glowing yellow. “You’re a time-lord?” 

“Hi, Doc, Its been a long time.” The child whimpered out as they suddenly jerked back, screaming in pain as the cells in their body rapidly changed and then they dropped, panting as they struggled to asses everything. 

The Doctor quickly picked up Missy and hurried to the TARDIS. “AMY! I need help!” The man yelled, alerting his companions, as they pushed the doors open on the TARDIS, letting the older Time-Lord to the interior and to the medbay. 

~

“Doctor, I get that your older than me but come on! You cant just keep me away from all the fun stuff!” Missy complained as they stood in front of the Pandorica, glaring down The Doctor. “Amy gets to have all the fun!” 

“Amy gets to have fun because her fiancé is dead, we are Time-Lords, Missy. We get to have fun when the human is asleep.” 

The two stilled when they heard the sound of the Roman’s yelling. The Time-Lords hurried up to the Roman’s, looking up at the mass amount of space ships. “Hey, Doc I think were fucked.” 

Amy and The Doctor looked at Missy, eyes huge as they saw the younger Time-Lord quickly hopping onto a rock, hand stretched out for River’s device, the two working in concession. 

“OI! You lot, Buzzing and whizzing, FUCKING STILL! We got here first and The Pandorica is ours! Finders keepers and all that! You fuckers.” Missy yelled into the device, it ringing out their words through Stonehenge. “You lot leave! We found it! Go on! SHOO!” 

The spaceships dissipated quickly and Missy jumped down, giving River the device back. 

The Doctor started to examine Amy and Rory while Missy pulled River aside. “Okay, where are we?”

~

The Doctor had turned into an old man and Missy had changed their name to Helena, and Helena and Clara stood next to The Doctor as a woman in vintage looking clothing floated down next to them. “Ah, Doctor, Doctor.” The woman tisked as she scanned the Cybermen behind the three and then her eyes landed on Helena and The Doctor put an arm in front of the young Time-Lord. Helena turned and scanned the Cybermen,

The woman wrapped an arm around The Doctor and held up a bulky phone to take a photo with him, showing the Cybermen and Helena in the background. “Doctor, Doctor, it takes a certain Time-Lord to to know exactly how to execute this type of destruction.” 

Helena quickly stepped forward, pushing away The Doctor’s arm. “Hold on, Time-Lord? Doc, what does she mean?” 

Missy smiled and gently grabbed Helena’s chin, jerking their face around. “It seems like you have a new pet, Doctor.” Missy chirped out, looking at The Doctor. 

“Let them go, Missy.” The Doctor growled, noticing how she was examining the younger Time-Lord.

~

Helena and Bill stared at each other in The Doctor’s office, before Nardole walked out. “Helena, what are you doing here?” 

Helena rose a brow before meeting Nardole’s stare. “I’m here to see Grandad. Where is he?” 

Nardole started to chuckle but Helena reached for a pencil and Nardole quickly went quiet. “He’s coming. Don’t worry.”

“The last time you said that, he came back with three new electric guitars.” Helena sighed and sat down in The Doctor’s chair, spinning in it. 

“Wait, Grandad?” Bill asked, and Helena turned to Nardole. “Does she know?” 

“I thought you were gonna hide too.” Nardole grumbled out and Helena turned back to Bill. “Fellow alien, I heard he took you to a space ship. In the TARDIS. Nardole, wanna tell me why?” 

Nardole rose his hands and quickly hid. Bill looked alarmed, as Nardole hid. “Your not as nice as him.” 

“Not to new ones, of course. Took me about 10 years to get used to Nardole.” Helena said, their hands reaching for the picture of them with Amy and Rory when they were younger. “Amy and Rory were my first. They helped him raise me. I accidentally called Amy mum once and she started crying. I haven't seen Rivs in awhile, wonder what mischief she's causing with him.” 

Bill just stared as the younger Time-Lord suddenly shook their head. “Anyway, Doc should be here soon. I swear Angry Brows if you start playing Pretty Woman again, I'm gonna punch you.” 

“Cmon Hels, you know you liked that song.” The scottish accent of The Doctor came rumbling out of the TARDIS. 

[night-lie]

cloudboy ❂ red rubicon

songs i’ve replayed until i’m sick of them x

description under the cut

An off-white marble floor with pseudo Greco-Roman pillars and a set of stairs, and a white horse statue standing on its hind legs in front of a blue sky. A round pond with some waterlilies. Several white women in pale blue ballet costumes dance, synchronized. They also dance with some white men in suits, also synchronized. They pose in front of the pond. 

A white woman in a gold swimsuit and a tiara rises from the water. She dances and poses by herself. The other women pose with her and one of them ties her ballet shoe as she leans forward, one leg extended behind her. She now has a gold dress on. She sits on the horse statue in a strong wind and poses. 

[alittleghostwhoeatsbread]

Die Nase Voll Haben

Thron threw the first throw, tossing the one toothed man against the alley wall with the type of snort and grunt a caterpillar would make if enraged and given the features necessary to let such noises out; the one toothed man threw the second, changing Thron’s following snort and grunt from that of an angry insect to that of a surprised sumo wrestler by changing what could classed as a throw, raising a dirty fist and driving it towards the hole in the middle of her face. The hole was too small to let all of the fist gain access but big enough that fragments of it- think the smaller knuckles and part of the pinkie- were swallowed momentarily into its wet warmth before being spat out as the one toothed man spat in disgust and wiped the reddish fluid that coated the inside of Thron’s hole and by extension the portion of his hand that had entered it off on his coat while Thron fell backwards, her hair spilling towards the ground and forming a cushion to cushion her head as it followed suit.

Thron’s mind took a holiday following the ‘throw’, venturing into sunny Camelot for a ride of the Knights of the Roundtable roundabout, sitting on it with Guinevere and letting it pick up speed until the cheering knights around them became a blur and she was flung back into her skull which had eyes that opened with a fluttering and a flapping of lashes. The sun had risen while her eyes had been closed and was staring down at her body which was on its back, there was nobody with her in the alley and her head ached with a kangaroo yearning for the hop, her teeth chattering together despite the warmth of the peeping sun, her body feeling cold enough that when she sat up it was with a blowing of warm air on her not really cold fingers, her not really cold fingers that upon coming into close proximity to her face came into close contact with something that had sprouted from her hole whilst her mind had being riding roundabouts- a nose of Roman proportions complete with two little holes at its base.

Her fingers were Francis Drake as they felt the outside and then inside of the nose, which was as warm and wet as her single hole had been, and then her fingers flung themselves away and Thron jumped up in search of a reflective surface, finding one in the form of a puddle on its way to being too dirty to be reflective at the end of the alley and finding in that puddle the image of a nose too large and masculine for her face but one dotted with the same speckle type freckles as the rest of it.

“Hole?” Thron whispered as the reality of the nose became the reality of her face.

 She began tugging at reality until the pain of tugging at reality got to be too much, stopping with a groaning loud enough to cause a red foreheaded lady walking past the mouth of the alley to double take and decide to check on the groaning woman while smiling the smile of a grandma in love with checkers.

“Groaning in an alleyway I see. Are you okay?”

“There was a man who changed the rules of throwing, and I had a lovely hole,” Thron replied miserably as if that answered the question. “Just last night.”

“A hole? Well, I’m sure you still do, it can’t have gone far,” the woman almost sang. “But if it has gone far, take courage. That’s a honker you’ve got there, just like mine but large. Far better than a hole.”

“But I want my hole that’s not just like yours or large. It was a perfect hole and with it I really stood out. Now look at me with a thing just like yours and just like you.”

The jolly woman threw back her head and emitted a jolly sound as jolly people are wont to do in the face of those less jolly, bongo slapping her stomach when deciding she need no longer check on the previously groaning form before strolling away with a dismissive goodbye and cheer up etched into her waving hand, leaving Thron to get up and copy her strolling style but fast forwarding it into the homeward bound run of a woman who felt she was a frog with no arms or legs in a pond of carp but that the carp were blind and stupid. The mirror in her bedroom upon becoming homeward arrived revealed what the puddle had but with better detail, how the nose, with all the charisma and Neroesque style of Napoleon, had conquered her face, making a base camp while she slept in the space her hole had once had its own base and slowly altering other parts of her facial features to accommodate its size and shape until they were nothing but cogs of a great Noseian Empire. It revealed all of this until the resistance couldn’t take being revealed to any longer without taking action and two high ranking members of the movement disguising themselves as Thron’s hands turned themselves into points that pointed up at the nose and its base camp with sharp nails very threatening and sharp.

“Viva le trou! You won’t win while there are parts of this body that resist. While there is a heart that beats and desires the hole you’ve replaced, you will not win. You may have taken our base camp and its immediate surrounding allies, but we will get back what it ours. You will not take our soul,” Thron’s voice, a not so secret resistance agent backing up the high ranking members, shrieked at the mirrors reflection of the nose before her body ran to the kitchen to fetch a knife.

But the knife may as well of been a kneecap for all the good it did, merely thudding the nose she sawed and hacked at, only breaking any skin when it slipped from the nose and bit into her cheek, proceeding to raise a thin line of blood that trickled down towards her chin with the slowness of a symphony while her impenetrable enemy did its best to wink and let that wink be known. The knife was flung to the floor and her cheek furiously wiped, the tip of the blade sticking into the woodiness of said floor straight up and quivering in the same manner as Thron’s chin as she leaned forward and prodded the surface of the mirror with the tip of the unwanted nose with no ideas in her head and a bank clerk named Pessimistic Paul probing the thought of moving into a cave within her until the coldness of the surface rose through her skull with an idea.

“A punch!” was called out to the air at the same time her fist sped down the autobahn in the wrong direction, followed by a, “YES!”, as it did an abrupt U-turn that disregarded traffic and commenced approaching her face with even more speed, colliding with the nose with a THWAK! and a KAPOW!

The pain of the punch made her spine do the hokey koke and her eyes do the splits, but the nose, the only part of her face not hurt, simply sat protruding from her face with the smugness of sugar, having even grown a little larger for both the trouble she’d went through and for its own amusement, and so prompting Paul to stop probing and move immediately into her with a guaranteed lease of two hundred years and Thron to walk away from the mirror and straight into bed, curling into a ball above the covers, the warm sun shining into the room making everything the same warm temperature. She slept for as long as she could sleep which was until her mobile alarm went off and she had to go to work, not bothering to shower or change and simply rolling out of bed with the thought that if even one person looked at her and knew she wasn’t a carp like them, looked at her perhaps with two seconds of confused curiosity, she would win and the nose would lose and so simply lose itself from her face. But she received no curiosity on her deliberately slow walk, the eyes in the passing faces that looked at anything with curiosity looking with curiosity in fact in any direction other than at her as if there had been a mass conspiracy to rob her of a win, and Paul began settling into his new home within her, lighting a fire and assembling a custom bed in which he could lie down and relax in his down time.

Thron tried to deter Paul by inviting Optimistic Olivia to move into her alongside him as the idea that maybe the twenty other people who worked with her who all had noses and who had always struggled when she’d had a hole to keep their eyes and words off it would at least be still unable to keep their eyes and words off her sudden lack of one. She worked in a team of setters in a jewellery workshop on the top floor of a Victorian factory made mainly from wood and metal and when Thron arrived, breathless from running the last mile in her hurry to convince Olivia it was the right decision to stay with the curmudgeon Paul, the twenty other setters were already there, milling about with tools and diamonds and gold clenched between dwarfian fingers or spilling out of pans and trays, the sight of their collective noses making the one on Thron flair in recognition. Making her way to her section, Thron turned to her immediate neighbour, a woman with a face made of timber named Jen and gave her a helloing smile while Olivia cheered like a leader, chanting, ‘attention, attention, gonna get you a great big mention.’

“Hey, Thron, nice nose, did you see Tyrone brought those rings you recommended? He wants us to set jade in them today.”

Jen’s eyes then turned away without even an ember of curiosity burning in them and Olivia suffered a stroke during her follow up cheer, collapsing and lying lopsidedly in place while Paul grew large enough to burst free of their cave and construct a dwelling on the surface of her heart as Thron smiled in acknowledgment and went to begin that task, unable to bear the fact that if attention was monkey shit, she was barely coated in it at all and that the monkey shit she was coated in had no curiosity attached to it when the fact was she wanted to be nothing but monkey shit made of curiosity. More passing comments came as she walked to the storage room, ‘Nose? Nice.’, ‘Are you getting to work on setting that jade? Good.’, ‘Did you see the game last night? Fucking hell I bet you got a nose just to get over it ha-ha’, filled with an off-handedness she wanted to be replaced with the shock of discovering the lack of the holy grail in a collection that had always had it, ‘Thron? My god! Your hole! Jesus! CHRIST! That was your thing and only yours and now you have a nose like ours! But damn if it isn’t at least large and more magnificent than anyone else’s,’ and the despair of not getting what she wanted caused her to veer away from the storage room and all the way out of the factory.

The narrow street directly outside the workshop was filling up as the day reached puberty and at the very end of it opposite a small pub Thron could see the toothless mouth of the alleyway she’d slept in tiredly yawning to accommodate anyone who wished to enter it, smacking its lips in a way that reminded her that she hadn’t in fact punched herself in the face and caused the infernal nose to grow and that it had in fact been a man with only a tooth more than the alley had who’d done the deed. So forceful was the reminder, Olivia, having shrunken to the size of a lopsided pellet from her attack, became slightly less lopsided and pellety and gave a miniscule thumbs up to Thron who immediately did a little leap in the air and stuck a finger in the shape of a gun up one of her nostrils, letting out a blast as she imagined it firing with a pew-pewing sound.

“I’ll blow you away with a punch and away you shall blow,” she whispered to the nose before approaching the alleyway, wandering its walls of grey brick with hands pretending that they were used to reading information from wandering walls of grey brick before finally sniffing with the nose when the wandering of the walls told her nothing, the nose- she noted with the reluctance of cold honey- having a much keener sense of smell than her hole had ever had and so having the ability to track.

The nose quivered with a quivering laugh at her for having to use it to get rid of it as two stenches appeared, one her own from the night before which she saw a sickly yellow cloud floating about, and the other a wide eyed green blob smelling of a mouth with only one tooth to protect it which hid helplessly from her furious sniffing in a dark corner before being sucked violently into her nose to be kept there and tracked.

“You can laugh quiveringly but I’m going to use you to get rid of you anyway and who’ll be laughing then? Me. This doesn’t mean a thing other than that I want my hole to suck you into oblivion and don’t you forget it. Now track!”

Sniff… sniff… went the nose, as unconcerned as a drop of water that knows that though it’s being swept towards the edge of a cliff there are other drops of water that have done the drop before and no one had ever heard them complain, and a line of green the same shade as the wide eyed blob appeared on the floor, leading Thron out of the alley and into the middle horizon. Thron almost threw herself on all fours to follow the line while sniffing all the time but decided against it as it would make her doggish and dogs loved noses and she didn’t love her nose, instead walking with her head down and sniffing extra hard every few seconds to keep the trail strong, following it through the middle horizon and into the brightly lit shopping district where it swiftly stopped and rooted itself and her in the middle of a large portion of grass sitting like a wart on the cheek of the petite ass of buying and selling. The portion of grass was empty apart from a single figure who stood in the middle of it playing with pigeons and being illuminated by a greenish glow that made them indistinguishable and led Thron to bound towards them, Olivia growing as she soared through the air, with a pushing of hands that sent them tumbling in a way that made all the previously played with pigeons take to the sky.

“What the hell do you think you’re playing at,” the indistinguishable figure scrambled up shouting, the greenish glow coating their face so strongly it was difficult to look right at them.

“I’m playing at being a woman who previously had just a hole and now has just a nose. A woman suffering from this because of your fist. Now do me a favour and let that fist loose on me again.”

Thron followed up this speaking with a scratching of the unbearably bright face, inciting a fist to emerge from the rest of their bearable brightness with a swinging and striking of the nose of Thron with such force she involuntarily did a star jump before landing back on her feet unsteadily, shaking her head while the figure, who’d lost their glow at the blow with a revealing that it was a man with a mouth full of teeth and not the man with a single tooth that she wanted, ran off from the shame of publicly striking a woman, which was fortunate for him because Thron would have continued to attack him simply for not being the one and for dealing a blow that meant nothing as her nose was still indisputably there.

The shoppers of the district carried on doing what they did without looking at the woman sitting on the large portion of grass and looking at the tip of her undamaged nose while wailing as silently as Paul, who was whipping the hapless Olivia inside her, would allow, hundreds of individual eyes milling past her on all sides and not one of them paying her any attention, curious or other, because she had a nose just like them and besides shopping never got done by stopping and paying attention to things.

“I thought you at least had a use of being good at sniffing, but apparently your sniffing ability is as useless as your appearance on my face,” Thron muttered before flashing a hand up to slap the side of the nose. “Or is it? You have nostrils and I’ve seen you can sniff. I’ve sniffed your sniffs and mmmm, I actually conclude now that your ability to sniff and smell is very good and that you lead me in the wrong direction because you’re looking out for yourself. Trying to get out of being sucked back into my hole.”

Haw haw… the nose laughed in its quivering way that confirmed it had been looking out for itself but only slightly and had mostly just been mocking its host, but its quivers quickly shuddered to a halt as the host it had been mostly mocking took charge, grabbing the reins with the force of an Olympic rein grabber and forcing the quivering laughs into a halting sniff… sniff…sniff… that showed if not THE way forward then certainly A way forward in the form of a new line of wide eyed green that cut the moving mass of shoppers in two until it didn’t. Until it followed instead of cutting so that when Thron followed the line, forcibly sniffing with the wanting to be laughing nose, she became one of the shoppers (albeit not one doing what they did) and couldn’t walk as fast as she desired because of the congestion, instead plodding along with them.

“Morning, morning,” went up and down the plodding mass of people and after a while of slowness Thron stuck her head out from the side of it, sniffing in the hope her wide eyed green trail would ignite in a different, less plodding direction, but her sniffing was for naught as no further ignition happened and the wide eyed green stuck to its course as the, ‘morning, morning,’ flowing down the stream of shoppers reached her mouth and was halted in its tracks, her lack of response causing several eyes in the plodding to turn to her in a concerned manner. Their concerned manner excited Thron because it made them look at her as closely as they’d done when there’d been a hole there to look closely at and her face itself had simply been a hole for their gazes to get sucked into, but her excitement was short lived as their close looks, once coming into contact with the nose, became distant looks that crinkled at the sides as they tapped the side of their own noses in recognition.

Thron lost track of time as she followed the trail from within the mass, eventually just letting the movement of the others take her along, a piece of weed of the sea variety being swallowed by a much larger collection of weed of the sea variety, and it was by doing this that, instantly, the mass charitably gave her the other option she wanted, the shopping district vanishing in a flash of bright colours behind her and the mass itself dispersing, leaving her to have to create her own momentum again and follow the green trail into the suddenly open and in front of her warehouse district. The warehouses looked the same as the Victorian factory she worked in from the outside but with the added quality of having been left, like a pile of dismembered enemy genitals, to rot, and the wide eyed green led the obedient Thron into one slightly rottener than the others that lay on the side of a runoff composed of canal water the texture of soup. The nose bumped the sides of a decayed wooden board blocking one of the glassless windows without her eyes seeing it and the bump tore a hole through the wood and left the board attached to the advancing face like a sightless mask so that when Thron pulled away in shock she took the entire board with her, the nose- once getting over its own shock- flexing on her face, impressed at itself and saying, ‘could your hole have ever done that?’, and forcing Thron to silently admit to herself that no, it could not.

The inside of the warehouse was a frozen drop of water, the tools and stations of its previous workers left perfectly in place, covered in dust that Thron disturbed by stepping on and over them as the trail led her up two flights of stairs and into what had once been an unnecessarily large unisex bathroom before becoming the homeless jungle it was with fourteen different people camped out in various corners of it. Thirteen of the fourteen weren’t in the way of the trail but the fourteenth, sitting on their own at the back of the jungle and relaxing in an end of the line bright green glowing type of way on top of a disused toilet, was kicking their feet until Thron approached to prod them in their cue ball face with the tip of her pool que finger, Olivia and Paul, small and whipped bloody and large and unwhipped, having fisticuffs within her with the weak Olivia getting repeatedly pummelled but always getting back up.

“Punch me,” Thron demanded to the figure whose face was less bright than the rest of their body and so had a mouth that visibly had only the one tooth, yellow and cracked with the sheen of a tortoise shell. “Punch me in the nose. Hard.”

The figure looked her up and down and with a shrugging did as she asked, slugging her with a worm shaped fist so hard that their body moved back as Thron’s flew back, colliding with an old sink that broke beneath her, the blow giving the nose an inch of pain for the first time which delighted her as much as the hamster feel of it wiggling up, down, and round and round on her face, suggesting it was collapsing in on itself.

Wiggle… wiggle… went the nose, shrinking and growing as if trying to decide on the action it should bet on, existence or back to the hole, wiggle… wiggle… until… POP!... It decided with a decidedly loud and painful sound that it would exist and forever at that, extending itself to the size of a half baguette so that the speckled freckles stretched into blurry scribbles on a page before swiftly shrinking back down to its standard, large but regal, size and staying there with the air of a crossed arms fascist, the visible tip of it twitchingly orchestrating the battle of Thron’s innards as Paul again knocked Olivia to the floor and sat on her before she could get up, rubbing his buttocks up and down across her face.

Pessimism killed the tsar, the queen, the king, the prince, the lord, the captain, it stabbed Thron’s heart with a dagger poisoned with poison and Paul- still sitting ass rubbingly on Olivia- grew to fill every cavity of Thron’s body, taking control of her limbs which hung as limply as the penis of a jellyfish would hang if that jellyfish had a penis and the urge to just let it all hang. Paul jerked Thron up from the ruins of the sink she’d crushed and turned her eyes to the man no longer glowing with a wide eyed green but reeking of rancid moss who’d gone immediately back to doing what he’d done before, sitting with a kicking of feet while looking at the floor with a little smile on his face, and then proceeded to jerk her out of the homeless jungle, the warehouse, the district, and all the way back to the shopping district where he collapsed her back on the large portion of grass.

The grass had been filled in her absence with men and women scaring off the previously played with pigeons by playing loud music beneath a sun even warmer than the one that had looked down at the newly nosed Thron the day before and dancing among their ever so carefully placed shopping bags with graceful swinging and jiving feet that never swung and jived with the carelessness required to accidently connected with them but did quite often accidently connect with the splayed Thron, who Paul had made cry like a castle. The swinging, jiving, dancing feet belonged to bodies that belonged to heads that hung back with noses thrusting phallically into the air and, after making her remain in a kickable position on the ground for a while, Paul got Thron up to stand amongst those bodies and look at their identical dancing ways, growing even larger as she did so that he was like a set of oversized fingers inside an undersized glove. He made her stand completely still in the middle of their swinging and jiving- an unspasmodic statue in a graveyard of spasmodic ones- so that it wasn’t their feet that collided with her accidently but their waving fists, each one hitting Thron perfectly in time to the music, exclusively in the head and nose.

The hits came as naturally as rain and Thron felt them and the nose, which received blow after blow without ever once considering becoming a hole, began to bleed while her head jerked back and forth, almost and then actually as in time with the music as any of the dancers so it was suddenly as if she was dancing too- and it was when it was as if she was dancing too that the hits making her head jerk abruptly stopped coming and it was when the hits stopped coming that she realised her head was continuing to jerk even without them and without any input from Paul, who was in fact confused and trying to imput into her that he didn’t want her head jerking without hits, trying to stop it with such a lack of success that a lump named Oliva grew larger beneath his butt.

Thron felt better as Olivia grew larger and began to jerk with more than just her head, her feet and arms and body wiggling like a bowl of tickles as the eyes of the many, which were the eyes of the dancers and had a weight to them, suddenly weighed down her wiggling body while also giving it the grace to avoid the stowed shopping bags with the same ease as all of them so that her feet gave the grass and nothing but the grass a hiding. The nose quivered as she span amongst the bodies, separate but conjoined, laughing not at her but with her as the Paul who wore her was lifted from her innards by the lump in his butt and shanked in the spine and throat. The sun stayed warmer than the day before and looked down at the dancers as Thron raised the nose with the dramatic air of drawing a duelling sword, her heart becoming as light as a puff of breath and almost rising up and out of her chest but not doing so because it was busy keeping her alive, thrusting it up and flaring its nostrils at the same time the other noses thrust up and flared, in time with the music and in the direction of the watching sun with the defiance of a herd of goats.

[bambiesque]

New thread for Smith!Doctor.

Episode: The Eleventh Hour - Amelia Pond, my love. Beans ARE evil, thank you Smith!Doctor. It's very sweet that Ten loses his red-haired best friend and Eleven immediately finds a red-haired best friend. Little Amy waiting with her suitcase <3 Grown-up Amy whacking him with a cricket bat. Rory, my other love, you're wonderful. And Olivia Coleman. And Tom Hopper. Smith!Doctor stealing clothes from a hospital just like Three. All the Doctors at the end <3 Bowties are cool. One of my all time favourite episodes.

Episode: The Beast Below - The creepy smiley robot things are a nope. I love the idea of every country having its own spaceship though and every county having it's own block. Liz 10 is awesome. It's not the greatest episode but it's enjoyable.

Episode: Victory of the Daleks - Pleasant and polite Daleks are somehow more creepy than the usual kind. Oh, Doctor, sometimes you are the biggest idiot. I quite like the colourful Daleks. It's very mid-80s looking. Amy is so smart. "Come along, Pond."

Episode: The Time of Angels/Flesh and Stone - River!!! Amy is now doing Lynda Day cosplay. I love River. The Weeping Angels are still creepy af. River thinks her mum is amazing and so do I <3 Amy thinking she's turning to stone and sending the Doctor away and then the Doctor biting her. With his space teeth. The second episode is nice foreshadowing to Cold Blood. I don't understand why you can't smash an angel while it's stone though. And I really don't enjoy Amy snogging the Doctor. Episode: The Vampires of Venice - Helen McCrory looking amazing as always. Love the Doctor going to collect Rory and taking him and Amy on a romantic trip and gaining a little crew. Choosing to believe Smith!Doctor owes Tennant!Casanova a chicken. Love the library card with Hartnell!Doctor on it. Have I mentioned how much I hate the idea of love triangles? I do love Rory and him telling the Doctor off. Obviously, the Doctor would rather face vampires than have an awkward conversation.

Episode: Amy's Choice - I do like it when the Doctor is faced with the darker aspects of himself. Amy telling the Doctor off by pretending to go into labour is hilarious, as is the Doctor making fun of Rory's ponytail and Amy telling Rory to whack an old woman. I like the idea that you grow out of the TARDIS rather than get dragged from it kicking and screaming - it's your choice. No pun intended. Amy/Rory forever. I love them.

Episode: The Hungry Earth / Cold Blood - this is set in 2020. Must have been January or February. It's a nice and quite exciting story. The SIlurians look amazing. The Silurian city looks awesome too. Celery, lol. Humans suck don't they? Except Rory. Rory is such a good boy. And then... he doesn't exist and I'm crying.

Episode: Vincent and the Doctor - Such a beautiful episode with a gorgeous, heartbreaking ending. Love Vincent describing the sky and the stars and it turning into The Starry Night.

Episode: The Lodger - Sometimes funny. Sometimes not. I do enjoy the Doctor trying to be a normal person for an extended period of time.

Episode: The Pandorica Opens / The Big Bang - Love all the flashbacks to everyone from earlier in the season. And River of course! Love River. RORY!!! Amy and Rory <3 Rory fighting against being an Auton. Poor Amy. I do love the idea of the Doctor being the thing in the Pandorica. And I love the start of the next episode even more. Al of the next episode in fact. It's so clever and romantic and perfect. And Rory punching the Doctor is great. More people should punch the Doctor, honestly. Fezes are cool. And then the beautiful wedding of my faves and the Doctor dancing like a drunken giraffe.

Episode: A Christmas Carol - Amy and Rory roleplaying the Roman and the Policewoman on their honeymoon. They're so cute. This is the most magical, Christmassy thing. I kind of wish this world had fish just flying around. Showing young boy Kazran his future to make him change is such a perfect twist on the normal Christmas Carol ending.

Episode: The Impossible Astronaut / Day of the Moon - The Silence as a concept are genuinely terrifying. The idea of seeing something and forgetting it the minute you can't see it. Brave Heart, Canton. "Strange markings" - it's quite clearly a tally. Love the Doctor kissing Rory on the head when he checks on him.

Episode: The Curse of the Black Spot - PIrates! Not the most thrilling episode ever but not horrible. Just sort of there.

Episode: The Doctor's Wife - the TARDIS, the Time Lords, MICHAEL SHEEN!!!! I love Idris. I love the Doctor and the TARDIS getting to talk. It's great to see more of the inside of the TARDIS, even if it just that same corridor, lol.

Episode: The Rebel Flesh / The Almost People - Ah, the goo people. But sadly no goo snakes. Rory is just the best and sweetest guy. Love him comforting Jennifer. The first episode ending with the Ganger!Doctor is awesome. Love the Ganger!Doctor trying to cope with his regenerations. The first ep is the better of the two, but I like the lead into Amy's story.

Episode: A Good Man Goes to War - Rory taking on the whole Cyberfleet to find out where Amy is is so hot. Vastra and Jenny <3 Strax <3 River being so overwhelmed by seeing Rory <3 The Doctor's conversation with Vastra and Dorian is one of my favourites in the whole series. The look they share when they have to explain to him that he is a threat. Amy/Rory <3 I love them so much.

Episode: Let's Kill Hitler - I love that Amy and Rory got to raise their daughter. I love whole sequence of them growing up. Baby!Rory. Then Rory punching Hitler and putting him in the cupboard. Mels calling Rory dad <3 He's a badass in this episode. Lol at Smith!Doctor feeling guilt related to all of Tennant!Doctor's companions. He's not wrong. The Amelia interface is awesome.

Episode: Night Terrors - Little George. He breaks my heart. The dolls are really very creepy. And they turned Amy into a doll. No thank you. Sweet ending though.

Episode: The Girl Who Waited - Wonderful concept. Karen is wonderful. Old Amy is so different to young Amy - all her mannerisms and her voice - and her anger and hurt is so real and good. And the Doctor is incredibly selfish, which is also good because it's nice to remember that sometimes he's a bastard. Amy and Rory are so perfect. <3

Episode: The God Complex - I love Rita. The scene between the Doctor and Amy where he tells her to stop believing in him is beautiful. As is their blue house with the TARDIS blue door and them saying goodbye.

Episode: Closing Time - Why didn't my parents name me Stormageddon? That's all there is to say about this episode really. Too much James Corden.

Episode: The Wedding of River Song - The world with all of time happening at once is beautiful. The cars being flown by hot air balloons and the steam trains through the pyramids. Rory keeping his eye-patch on even though it's killing him <3 "River Song didn't get it all from you" is such a great line. River visiting Amy and Rory and telling them the truth - and Amy realising she's his mother in law. Doctor Who? Love it.

Episode: The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe - The last scene between the Doctor and the Ponds makes up for a pretty nothing episode. The Doctor crying because he can feel things again <3

Episode: Asylum of the Daleks - Amy and Rory on the brink of divorce is the most awful thing in the Smith!Doctor era. That said, this is a fantastic episode. And Clara! Lovely Clara. Well, Oswin in this case.

Episode: Dinosaurs on a Spaceship - They're people, not Ponds. Brian! Dinosaurs. Much better than the dinosaurs Pertwee!Doctor had to fight. Amy IS a queen. I'm glad Rory got to kiss Smith!Doctor too. Such a fun episode.

Episode: A Town Called Mercy - Amy is the best and I love her so much. Love her calling Smith!Doctor out on his bs. Both Amy and Rory are sadly underused though.

Episode: The Power of Three - Kate!! Amy in a pretty dress. The Doctor missing Amy and Rory. He loves them so much. Creepy little girl and her creepy twin orderlies.

Episode: The Angels Take Manhattan - Nooooo. Farewell Ponds, I love you. I will miss you. I'm glad you had a happy life together. They get the best exit of the modern era, so far. Happy yet heartbreaking.

Episode: The Snowmen - Clara! Jenny&Vastra! Strax! Smith!Doctor living on a cloud like Mary Poppins. Just realised that Mary Poppins is a Time Lord. Pretty grim for a Christmas special.

Episode: The Bells of Saint John - Short hops are difficult. I'm glad that we already knew Clara at this point because while she is wonderful, this episode is pretty dull.

Episode: The Rings of Akhaten - Susan mention! Love the classic feel of this episode. I wish they'd go to other planets more often. A simple story. Very enjoyable.

Episode: Cold War - Ice Warriors! You know I'm not entriely sure I needed to see under an Ice Warrior's armour. Some good moments but not one of the best episodes.

Episode: Hide - A good old-fashioned ghost story, or is it a love story? It's from where, Doctor? Oh, Metebelis III. And that's how we're pronouncing that is it?

Episode: Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS - It's always nice to see more of the TARDIS, but I would have liked more rooms and fewer corridors. Still, that library was nice. I don't blame Clara for wanting to remember that.

Episode: The Crimson Horror - Brave Heart, Clara. This is a very creepy, brilliant, episode and I love it. Everyone is wonderful. Strax is, as always, hilarious. Mrs Gillyflower and Mr Sweet are so gross. Jenny is a badass.

Episode: Nightmare in Silver - Matt Smith is so good. The Cybermen are nice and scary for a change. Clara is, as always, excellent. And Porridge proposing to Clara is reminding me of Peladon asking Jo to marry him.

Episode: The Name of the Doctor - I'm just going to scream through this whole thing. Hartnell!Doctor and Susan stealing the TARDIS. I love all her costumes with each of the Doctors. I love the giant dying TARDIS. I love that River is there. I love that Smith!Doctor can see her and that he loves her. Yes, I cried. Vastra and Jenny and Strax. A perfect episode.

Episode: The Day of the Doctor - Speaking of perfect episodes. Everything about this one is amazing. John Hurt is a fantastic addition. Billie Piper is marvelous as the Moment. David Tennant is his usual charming self. I have fun trying to spot all the references and items and photos in the Black Archive. All the Doctors there, saving Gallifrey <3 Can't believe Jenna didn't have "snog David Tennant" in her contract. And Tom Baker coming back is a lovely ending.

Episode: The Time of the Doctor - Another sad Christmas special, but a brilliant one, wrapping up every question from the Smith!Doctor Era. I love that the story that started in The Eleventh Hour lasted his whole run. I love him seeing Amy again when he regenerates.

Smith!Doctor Era Roundup

Matt Smith is absolutely my favourite Doctor. How the youngest person to play him manages to be so old, I'll never know, but he does it so perfectly. He is sweet and kind and silly and furious and dangerous and he loves so much. We get Kate Lethbridge Stewart and Vastra, Jenny, Stazx, the return of Gallifrey and a truly epic love story. No notes.

Favourite Companion: Amy

Least Favourite Companion: None

Favourite Episode: The Big Bang / The Wedding of River Song / The Day of the Doctor

Least Favourite Episode: Cold War

Current Doctor Rankings:

Smith

Davison

Pertwee

Tennant

TBaker

CBaker

McCoy

Troughton

McGann

Eccleston

Hartnell

Top 10 Companions:

Jo Grant

Amy Pond

Tegan Jovanka

Rory Williams

Barbara Wright

Vislor Turlough

Sarah Jane Smith

Martha Jones

Donna Noble

River Song

[rosesfromtheheart]

‘Roses from the Heart’ Bonnet acknowledging the life of convict woman Eliza Davis who spent time in both the Wicklow Gaol, County Wicklow and Grangegorman, Dublin before being taken aboard the Tasmania (2) in 1845, destination Van Diemen’s Land.

This is not the only bonnet that has been created for Eliza. Her descendant Gail Mulhern sewed a memorable ‘Roses from the Heart’ bonnet tribute which she took to Ireland and wore at a special event at the County Wicklow Gaol. It was one of a number of bonnets from the ‘Roses from the Heart’ collection that was displayed at the County Wicklow Gaol on that occasion.

Eliza Davis was born c1823. As an infant she was raised in Dublin. Eventually she was apprenticed to James Twamley of Cronelea House, near Shillelagh, Co Wicklow. Towards the end of her apprenticeship she was seduced by a fellow worker. He was a Roman Catholic and Eliza was a Protestant. The difficulty that arose here was that he was not obliged to assist her in any way. He chose not to marry Eliza nor to help her financially. Following the assault Eliza gave birth to a baby boy. In desperation she returned to Cronelea House asking for aid of 2 pound a year. Her request was refused. It was later stated that Eliza was then seen on a February night placing her baby into Mrs Ashe’s pond. The witness later swore in court that Eliza drowned the baby. Eliza had no access to a solicitor until the night before trial. The verdict was given as ‘guilty’. After her trial many people came forward writing petitions which saved Eliza’s life.  Eliza spent time in both the County Wicklow Gaol and Grangegorman, Dublin before being transported to Van Diemen’s Land. During her time in VDL Eliza met Joseph Roebuck. She conceived and gave birth to twins in the Launceston General Hospital. Joseph and Eliza were married in Campbell Town. Joseph, was a convict and he worked for John Leake of Rosedale. Descendant Gail, believes Eliza worked on the same property too, but she hasn’t found the proof of that yet. After Joseph became free he and Eliza moved to Hobart. Eliza gave birth to a boy in Hobart. At this stage it was obvious that Joseph was struggling with his mental health and he was admitted to the New Norfolk Asylum in 1856. The children were still young; the twins were nine years old and their brother was aged six at the time of Josephs admission. He remained at New Norfolk for 17 years. A couple of years after Joseph’s incarceration Eliza met Amos Eastwood. During this part of her life Eliza became a midwife. She had children to Amos. The couple married after the six children have grown up. Exactly one week after her marriage to Amos, Eliza died. (Married on 12 Oct 1898, Eliza’s death was recorded as 19 Oct 1898). Gail Mulhern believes a highway has been built over Eliza’s cemetery.

Playwright Margaret Dakin wrote a musical play A Bonnet for Eliza’  which was held in Redlands, Queensland in May 2017. Musician Vicki MacDonald wrote Eliza’s Lament. Vicki performed this song in Hobart as part of my ‘Wear a Bonnet - Living Art installation’ in Hunter Street, at the wharf, Hobart on Mothers Day, Sunday 10 May, 2015.  Pam Fox wrote the poem  A Convict Woman’s Story. 

Eliza Davis’s life continues to be remembered. A bonnet was worn acknowledging her existence as part of my ‘Wear a Bonnet - Living Art Installation’, held at Grangegorman, Dublin on March 6, 2017.

Thanks to Gail Mulhern for the information included here.

[cherryao3nova]

//one thing that tells you, that youve been away from tumblr too long... is that your tags are no longer saved... le sigh (part 2)

[riversofmars]

Prompt: 13 and River babysit Anthony Williams (Amy and Rory’s adopted son)

This is such a cute prompt! I combined it with a similar one and hope this works for you, enjoy! <3

Rating: G

Word Count: 1800

Read on AO3 or below

All in the Family

“And you’re sure you’re up for this?“ Amy turned to River one more time, halfway out of the door of their flat in 1940s New York.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?“ River crossed her arms in front of her chest challengingly.

“You’re not exactly the most responsible adult.“ Rory couldn’t help pointing out and glanced to his wife to find out whether they were going to change their minds at the last minute.

“I'll take that as a compliment.“ River smirked. “Remember this was your idea.“

“Yes but only because we don’t know many people here yet!“ Rory admitted.

“And having your baby stolen once, you don’t want to trust strangers, I get it.“ River gave her parents a kind smile. She was very happy for them. They deserved to have the calm family life that they had missed out on with her. Adopting baby Anthony had been a wonderful idea.

“It’s just been such a long time since we’ve been able to go out.“ Amy explained. “I just didn’t understand how hard raising a child would be!“ She sighed, running her hand through her hair. She was more exhausted than she ever had been while travelling with the Doctor. “We just really need to have an evening just for us.“

“Say no more and get yourself going before I change my mind.“ River ushered them out the door.

“You are a godsend, River.“ Amy kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Don’t get up to anything stupid.“ She wagged her finger at her.

“What, me? Stupid? Perish the thought.“ River feigned hurt but laughed.

“Just make sure Anthony is okay.“ Amy implored her and gave a little wave to the toddler that was just coming up behind River and wrapping his arms around her leg.

“You can count on me. We’ll have a brilliant time, won’t we, brother dearest?“ River smiled down at the child and patted his head.

“Ri-ver.“ The toddler nuzzled into her thigh.

“See, fast friends already.“ River chuckled and lifted him up.

“Does she… do you know anything about toddlers?“ Rory asked, insecure for a moment.

“I am married to the Doctor, does that count?“ River countered and the Ponds laughed:

“Fair point…“

“Relax, we will be fine, it’s just for a few hours.“ River kissed the forehead of her adoptive brother who was giving her a koala bear hug. “Tea, books, bed. I got this.“

“See you both later, look after each other.“ Amy smiled and kissed Anthony’s head, as did Rory.

“This is a bad idea…“ Rory hummed to his wife as they waved their goodbyes and made their way down the corridor.

“It’s a brilliant idea.“ Amy waved off his concerns.

“Right Anthony, there is someone I would like you to meet.“ River smiled at her little brother as she closed the door.

“Meet?“ Anthony echoed as River carried him back into the living room.

“Someone very special: Your brother-in-law. Well, I say brother… sister-in-law? Alien-in-law?“ River grinned,and as if on cue the TARDIS became visible in the lounge.

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me see them!“ The Doctor stuck her head out, having waited patiently for the Ponds to depart.

“Because they never would have left and they could do with a break.“ River explained with a chuckle as her wife skipped out of the TARDIS and towards them.

“Hello Anthony Pond!“ She grinned, ruffling the toddler’s curls who just giggled in response. He appeared fascinated by the sudden appearance of the blue box and pulled away from River, seemingly wanting to be set down.

“Williams…“ River corrected the Doctor as she sat her brother down who rushed to the TARDIS, circling around it in wonder.

“What shall we play with, Anthony?“ The Doctor ignored her wife and dropped to her knees in the middle of a pile of toys. “See, we’re gonna have the best time!“ She pulled her screwdriver from her coat and sonic-ed the toys. All of a sudden, cars and toy robots started moving on their own accord. Anthony giggled in delight and rushed over to the Doctor, the TARDIS no longer the most interesting thing around here.

“Guess that means I’m making tea?“ River chuckled as Anthony threw himself at the Doctor.

“Would you want either one of us close to a hob?“ The Doctor retorted, hugging the child tightly.

“Fair point.“ River chuckled.

——

“I don’t know why I asked you here, it’s like babysitting two toddlers.“ River was cleaning up the kitchen after tea had turned into a food fight.

“'Cause this is the closest thing you and I have to a family.“ The Doctor answered with surprising candour. Anthony was jawing, leaning against her.

“As much as I try to, I don’t really feel like part of them…“ River answered thoughtfully.

“Our lives are more complicated than that…“ The Doctor couldn’t help but agree. Neither one of them was suited to regular family dynamics.

“Would it be so bad though? Settling down for a time?“ River mused, looking from Anthony to her wife.

“Maybe at some point.“ The Doctor gave her a soft smile. This River hadn’t done Darillium yet. She had all of that to come and the Doctor missed their time there more than she would care to admit.

“Bed time?“ She asked, seeing as Anthony was virtually falling asleep next to her.

“I think so.“ River agreed with a smile and walked over to them. “Come here Anthony…“ She scooped him up. “Let’s get you into your PJs…“

Both the Doctor and River had presumed bedtime would be easy, considering how tired Anthony was, but they had thought wrong.

“Stop turning the light on and off!“ River pleaded, picking him up again to finally put him in his bed. Anthony appeared to have saved up his energy just for this.

“Still want kids?“ The Doctor tried her best to keep a straight face as she watched her wife struggle with the toddler.

“You know all of a sudden, being a big sister seems perfectly adequate.“ River retorted.

“I’ll get him a bottle of milk.“ The Doctor suggested, just as Anthony got up again and raced past River to the light switch.

“Stop it with the light switch!“ River groaned and scooped him up again. “Please, will you just stay in bed now?“ She tugged him in.

“Well well well, isn’t this a lovely sight.“ A voice sounded from the doorway that made River’s blood run cold. She whipped around, standing protectively in front of the bed.

“Madame Kovarian, how did you…“ She stared at the woman in the doorway.

“I knew I would find you eventually.“ Madame Kovarian smirked, walking further into the room. “And who is this little man? Tell me, am I a grandmother?“

“How dare you show your face here!“ River growled, regretting immediately that she left her gun in the TARDIS. She hadn’t anticipated needing it for babysitting duties.

“I believe you and I have some unfinished business.“ Kovarian retorted. “How is motherhood treating you, Melody? Where is the husband? Leaving you to do all the child care?“

“Right behind you!“ The Doctor called from the doorway, armed with nothing but a bottle of milk. She quickly accessed the situation in front of her, glaring at the unwelcome guest.

“Oh well, not your child then, is it?“ Kovarian retorted with a cruel smirk. “Now then, I think it’s time for some good old fashioned revenge…“ She pulled a gun on them.

Suddenly the light flicked off! Anthony had snuck out from behind River and gone for his favourite game again. River jumped at the opportunity. She flung herself at Kovarian and disarmed her quickly. The moment the light came back on, Kovarian was on the floor and River held her gun to her head.

“Never underestimate a Pond!“ The Doctor grinned and scooped up the child into a tight hug.

“You little monster!“ Kovarian spat.

“If anyone is a monster here, Madame Kovarian, it’s you.“ River retorted icily.

--

“Surprisingly quiet in here… maybe River managed to get him to sleep alright after all…“ Rory mused as he opened the door to the flat and they walked inside. It had been a lovely evening, just what they needed.

“What the…“ Amy stopped dead in her tracks as they stepped into the living room.

“Amelia Pond! And Rory the Roman!“ The Doctor exclaimed and ran towards them, pulling them into bone crushing hugs.

“River?!“ Amy exclaimed, needing an explanation. Who was this woman? What was she doing in their flat? Why did she know who they were? And why was Madame Kovarian tied to a chair in the middle of their lounge?!

“What can I say… Mum, Dad… when my husband regenerated into a hot blonde I started batting for the other team, hope that’s alright with you.“ River answered, gesturing to the Doctor who grinned widely, barely able to contain her excitement.

“What?!“ Amy and Rory exclaimed in unison.

“She didn’t want to tell you I was here cause she thought you’d be worried we’d set the place on fire…“ River explained a little bit more apologetically.

“Instead you have a tied up Madame Kovarian in our living room?!“ Amy gestured to the unwelcome guest.

“Ouch!“ Kovarian groaned when Anthony chucked a building block at her.

“Good shot, mate!“ The Doctor grinned and gave him a high five. Of course, Anthony had refused to go to bed after the excitement.

“Sorry, just got to finish building this transdimensional teleport. Teaching Anthony the basics of temporal engineering as we go. One way trip to Stormcage.“ River explained, gesturing to a circle of electrical components that had been erected around Kovarian. Long cables connected it to the TARDIS. “Unless I get the coordinates wrong… might end up in a sun instead…“ She mused.

“Melody, don’t do it, I…“ Kovarian pleaded.

“You have threatened my family for the last time. This is goodbye, Madame Kovarian, for the last time.“ River finished attaching the cables.

“Good riddance!“ Rory mumbled in agreement.

“Anthony!“ Amy called when the toddler skipped forward and hit a big red button on the contraption. Something no child would be able to resist. Kovarian disappeared in a flash of light!

“Was the teleport even calibrated?!“ The Doctor looked to River who gave a little shrug.

“I’ll check up on her when I’m in Stormcage next… she may have ended up in the cantina rather than an actual cell… but never mind.“ She looked to her parents. “So, how was your date?“

“Certainly less eventful than this.“ Amy shook her head in disbelief.

“Come on, mate, let’s get you to bed.“ The Doctor scooped Anthony up who nuzzled into her neck.

“Doc-tor.“