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starleska · 4 months

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Have you ever read the Twelve and Toymaker comic? It gives a few more interesting looks into how the Toymaker thinks that aren’t touched on in the novelisation. Most interestingly (and the main focus of the comic) is that the Toymaker is terrified of the universe outside of the Toyroom — which seems to be defined by its walls, in the novelisation the Toymaker puts particular emphasis on the walls with the candy-striped wallpaper lined with dolls — because it has no walls and because he doesn’t (didn’t? He does in the Giggle) have much control of it.

(‘‘The Toyroom is growing old, Doctor. So ancient that it no longer functions, as either prison or playground. The barriers between the Toyroom and the wider universe are growing thin, and it is this that has allowed you to wrest control of the toys, as my power wanes. Soon, there will be no Toyroom and I shall be loose in a wild, unforgiving universe, a cosmos with no walls. I can hardly conceive of such infinite horror.’’)

(‘‘You’ve given a madman access to the entire universe! With that sort of power, think what he’ll do!’’ ‘‘That’s just it, Clara, he doesn’t want the universe. Didn’t you hear him? He’s terrified of it. He can’t bear the thought of losing his control. He needs his safety net.’’)

And that he doesn’t tend to accept help unless he thinks he’s won it.

(‘‘So you’re just giving him the TARDIS?’’ ‘‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m building a new Toyroom!’’ ‘‘Inside the TARDIS!’’ ‘‘Precisely! I had to let him think he’d won. He’d never accept my help otherwise.’’)

And THESE PANELS lives in my head

(‘‘I had to help him, Clara. Can you understand?’’ ‘‘Let me see... a lonely God, drifting through space and time in his magical toy box? Yeah, I think I understand, Doctor, all too well.’’)

The EU tends to give the Toymaker more than his actual TV appearances (mmmm his rambles about being alone in the void and the cold in the novelisation). I need to dissect him and study him in detail so bad

hello love!!! oh my goodness thank you for sending this my way, because i haven't read this comic yet but the sections you've sent me have absolutely broken my heart 💔 what an interesting look into the Toymaker's psyche…it makes perfect sense. when you're a trauma survivor of any kind, especially if you grew up in a traumatic environment, the control you're able to have over that environment (no matter how minimal) is often all that keeps you together…you have to find comfort in that there and whatever small safe space you can carve out for yourself to survive. this has given me a lot to think about, because i wrote the Toymaker with what i think was the canonisation given when he spoke to the Sixth Doctor; that the Toymaker created his Toyroom after a very long time of aimlessly using his powers, when he didn't have a concept of gameplay. there seems to be some contention about whether or not the Toymaker is the creator of the majority of older games in the universe/the concept of games (The Giggle seems to allude to that?), or if he was inspired by other beings who created the games first. i like to think it's a bit of both; that he is the originator of many early games and gameplay rules, but it was the barriers between the voidspace (and his Toyroom) which let in the ideas from other beings 👀 the idea that the Toyroom is the Toymaker's island of safety against a universe which fundamentally doesn't make sense to him is so distressing 😭💖 i think a lot of us who've gone through difficult things can relate to that experience…of having your safe place slowly eroded as circumstances change and you grow older. but it makes sense!!! if he had no one, and the only thing he could cling to were the rules of his games (seemingly the only thing which brings him joy), the inherent chaos of the universe would be terrifying to him. no matter how much he tries to make it so, the universe just isn't a game with rules that can allow him to win: it's random, and brutal. is it any wonder that he has such tantrums when he loses, or when he perceives someone to be cheating? it isn't just that he's upset about losing or bad sportsmanship...it's the literal fabric of his entire worldview being torn apart. oh lord the bit about him not accepting help unless he thinks he's won it…how familiar does that sound to those of us who were traumatised early on? needing to 'earn' things like affection, shelter, food, etc. by working twice as hard, because we feel we don't deserve it inherently...the fact that the Doctor shows the Toymaker such compassion even though the Toymaker is such a dangerous, destructive entity is a real credit to their character. i really appreciate The Giggle replicating that and showing how the Doctor empathises with the Toymaker's terror by offering to play with him...i wish we'd had more time to explore the 'vastness that will never cease'. i don't think that good or bad mean nothing to the Toymaker...i think he's petrified of it. suddenly we understand why he's so boastful about his abilities, like an arrogant child...he's asserting himself against the universe as the only safety he's ever known crumbles. god. my heart hurts - that image of him sitting with the dolls of himself and the Doctor is killing me. i am going to go and read this comic and cry now, thank you so much 😭💖 yes please do!!!! your insight into the Toymaker is fantastic and i'd love to see more character studies of him 😭💖

#*slaps the Toymaker's head* this interdimensional entity can fit so much trauma #the toymaker #doctor who #the doctor #twelfth doctor #clara oswald #the celestial toymaker #the giggle #dw #starleskasks #long post #tw: trauma

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miracleonice87 · 10 months

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17 w barzy pls! i feel like he only ever gets smut or fluff written w him

from m's midnights prompt list

warnings (cw / tw): miscarriage, pregnancy loss, mourning... this one's a doozy, folks 😔 please don't read if these subjects are triggering or sensitive for you

word count: ~2,100

17. Bigger Than The Whole Sky

---

It started as the most typical Isles weekday gameday. Mat woke up an hour before morning skate, kissed your forehead, and rolled out of bed as you snoozed away for just a few more minutes, the early-pregnancy exhaustion hitting you hard the last several weeks. He made himself a coffee, you an Earl Grey, and carried both back to the bedroom where he found you just beginning to stir. You both sipped at your drinks as you went through your morning grooming and threw on athleticwear. Soon, after a playful kiss in the hallway, you were both headed out the door, Mat to the rink and you to the Lees’ to workout with Grace in their home gym.

At least, with the intention to workout with Grace.

Instead, your world as you knew it and your greatest dream came crashing down during the short drive to the Lee house.

What started as light cramping quickly gave way to sharp, stabbing pains that had you doubled over in Grace’s doorway by the time you reached their stately home. She knowingly shuffled you inside, alarm bells blaring in her head even as she used her calmest tone and did everything she could to soothe you. Her babysitter quickly led the girls away from the scene, distracting them with an invitation to play princess dress-up in the toyroom down the hall, away from your intensifying sobs.

As Grace guided you toward her car in the garage, your hands gripping hers with knuckles white as you leaned into her for strength, she noticed a figment of every expectant parent’s worst fear… the seat of your grey leggings stained with an unsettlingly substantial amount of blood.

“Is this it?” you cried. “Is this what it feels like?”

The pit deepened in her gut, her maternal instincts screaming yes.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” she answered softly. “We’re gonna go find out, okay? Together.”

“A-and Mat…”

“I know. Of course.”

You reached the passenger door, and with one hand Grace opened the adjacent rear door, grabbed one of the girls’ pink travel pillows, and tossed it onto your seat in the hope that it would somehow make you more comfortable on the drive to the hospital. She got you settled into the passenger seat and seconds later, was already rolling down her driveway at a speed faster than she ever hit on a normal day, making an impossible phone call via her hands-free navigation.

At the other end of that call was her sweet husband, who thank god had gotten caught up talking to one of the assistant coaches about gameplans and hadn’t yet stepped onto the ice for morning skate as Mat had minutes ago.

Anders looked at his phone with a furrowed brow and a knot in his stomach… Grace never called him when she knew he was at the rink.

“G? What’s going on?”

That’s when she told him it was you, not herself, who was the reason for the call.

“Shit… is she…”

“I don’t know. She’s in a lot of pain, Anders.” Which he already knew from your muffled sobs on the speakerphone. He’d never heard you cry before. “She’s bleeding. Get Mat off the ice now and tell him to meet us at the hospital.”

“Fuck. Okay. Be careful – I’m-I’m hanging up.”

“Okay. I’ll call you.”

“Yeah.”

Anders tapped the red button and sat in silence at his stall for the briefest of seconds, running a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath through pursed lips, absolutely dreading what he had to do next.

He made his way down the tunnel, stopping at the bench instead of immediately hopping out onto the ice. Lane noticed and caught his eye. Anders closed the short gap between himself and his head coach, ducked his head, and explained the situation as quietly and briefly as he could. Lane’s expression went cold, and he offered a slow, single nod, then cleared his throat.

“I’ll do it if you want me to, but I think you should maybe be the one to…”

Anders cut him off, shaking his head.

“No… no, he should hear it from me.”

Lane set his jaw, clapped the captain’s shoulder, and fixed his gaze back across the ice with a pained exhale.

Anders shuffled to the end of the bench at its opening and waited a few moments for Mat to skate past him on a loop. When he did, he called, “Barz.” Hoarse, somber, short. The younger player immediately skidded to a stop, sending snow flying from beneath his blades.

“What’s up?” he asked, panting.

Anders swallowed, tucking his chin to his chest for a moment.

“Leezy? What’s up?” Mat repeated, brow furrowing.

Anders met Mat’s eyes again and sighed.

“You gotta go to the hospital, bud,” he said softly, unable to keep his voice from shaking. “Grace just called, and-”

Mat didn’t even let Anders finish his thought before he jumped the threshold and ran down the tunnel, shedding his gear as he went, trying to hold it all in his hands and beneath his arms. Anders followed close behind.

“Barzy, bud, are you good to drive?”

Mat nodded furiously without so much as a glance Anders’ way.

“I’ll drive you if you want.”

Mat shook his head.

“You call me if you need anything, you hear me?”

He was nodding again, and simultaneously busting through the doors of the locker room, where he threw all his gear into his bag, pried off his skates, and tugged on his crewneck and sweats in the blink of an eye before heading for the exit with just his keys and his phone… but he stopped in front of his friend before he could make it that far.

Anders could see the red already rimming his eyes, and he felt his own throat constricting as he heard Mat’s breath coming in short, stuttering gasps.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this, man,” Mat managed between breaths.

All Anders could do was grab Mat in a crushing hug, the sounds of him clapping Mat’s back echoing in the empty locker room.

“It never is. I’m sorry.”

No words appear before me in the aftermath

Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea…

The ultrasound screen had been turned off for at least half an hour by now, you and Mat left alone by the doctor for nearly as long, but you still lay flat on your back, wet cheek pressed to the ugly pleather exam table, willing the black screen to turn back on and tell you something different than it already had. Willing this nightmare to end, willing yourself to wake up, willing it not to be true, to be some giant, cruel misunderstanding.

No words came to your lips, though thousands of them hummed incessantly between your ears, intrusive thoughts even louder than they’d been all morning in the now-silent room. You heard Mat sniffling behind you, felt his lips kissing the back of your hand every few seconds. Before he’d arrived, you had thought you could not possibly ever feel the sting of devastation more acutely than when the doctor had uttered the words “I’m so sorry; you’re miscarrying.” But good god, the second Mat ran through those sliding glass doors in an utter panic, hair wild no doubt from pulling it throughout the entire drive to the hospital, eyes and nose and cheeks pink from crying, lips parted and shoulders rising and falling as he attempted to catch his breath… you realized how wrong you’d been.

You could handle the pain this would inflict upon you. But seeing Mat suffering just as much… that made you want to crawl in a hole and never see the light of day again. And since that moment, after he’d gathered you in his arms, you’d tried your damndest to avoid making eye contact with him altogether.

He was sad because of you. Mourning because of you. Depressed and angry and sick and childless because of you.

And that was simply too much to bear.

So it was nearly an hour since he’d gotten there and you had yet to look him in the face again. And while looking him in the face was killing you, you not looking him in the face was killing him.

Nobody won in this situation. It was a lose-lose-lose.

“Honey, look at me. Please look at me?” Mat begged from your side.

Unsurprisingly, he was met with silence, and no motion.

“It’s not your fault. Alright? It’s not your fault, babe,” he said firmly, squeezing your hand. “I need you to hear that.”

More silence. It wasn’t even that you wouldn’t speak, it was that you simply couldn’t.

Mat sighed, using his free hand to swipe at the never-ending tears streaming down his cheeks. Then, he trailed his palm along the length of your arm.

“You can be as quiet as you want for as long as you want, baby, because this is an awful fucking thing that’s just happened to us, to you,” he spoke, voice wavering. “But I’m gonna keep talking because I’ve gotta make sure you know that this isn’t because of anything you did, or didn’t do. Like the doctor said, these things happen for reasons we’ll never know. And I’m not upset with you. I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you. I love you.”

You closed your eyes, swearing your eyelids were suddenly outfitted with weights. It was all sinking in… the reality of it, the heaviness, the emptiness. You just wanted to sleep.

You finally opened your mouth, feeling how dry and cotton it had become. You didn’t have the strength to debate him on why this had happened, how it had to be your fault somehow, but you mustered enough to give him what you knew he needed.

“I love you,” you whispered, unnerved by how weak and small your own voice sounded in the sterile room.

Behind you, you heard Mat rise up from the uncomfortable vinyl chair. He bent over you, pushing some hair back from your damp face, and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, relieved and grateful to have gotten any response, any sign of human function, from you at all. Then, he patted your shoulder and said the very thing you’d been dreading.

“Come on… let’s go home.”

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time…

Mat didn’t know how he’d found himself in the nursery or how long he'd been there, but after laying with you in your bed and softly stroking your hair as you finally fell into a much-needed slumber, that’s where his aimless wandering had eventually led. He didn’t bother to turn on the light; the afternoon sun streaming through the still untreated windows cast a golden glow on everything in the room.

It had once felt so cozy, a representation of all that the two of you had to look forward to in the weeks and months to come. He loved sitting in the room all alone when he arrived home from a road trip, late at night when you were already sound asleep, dreaming about who your baby would look like, what they would sound like, who they would someday grow to be.

With you losing your pregnancy so soon into it, the material items in the room were still few. As he ran his fingertips along the covers of the gifted copies of “Goodnight, Moon,” “On The Night You Were Born,” and “Love You Forever,” and over the stuffed Sparky the Dragon next to them on the shelf, his eyes filled with fresh tears, realizing that he would never get to snuggle his first baby earthside, read to them with Sparky tucked in their lap. He leaned wearily against the railing of the crib he had just put together mere days ago, and as he looked toward the tiny “13” jersey laying on the still plastic-wrapped mattress, a sob escaped his throat and he let himself fall completely apart for the very first time, without needing to remind himself to hold it together in your presence. He turned and sunk down to the floor, leaning against the solid oak frame of the crib, and buried his head in his hands, crying as he never had in all his life.

Eventually, there would be conversations about the next steps to take for your health, whether or not to try again, and when, and whether to leave the nursery as it was or pack it up until, hopefully, you were pregnant once more. But for now, there was just sheer sadness as you and Mat grieved the little one that just wasn’t to be.

And I've got a lot to pine about

I've got a lot to live without

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you…

#m's midnights prompt list #my writing #mathew barzal #mat barzal #tw miscarriage #cw miscarriage #mathew barzal fic #mathew barzal fanfic #mathew barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fanfic #mat barzal fanfiction

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aristidetwain · 1 year

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Ring-Master

In 2007′s Last of the Time Lords, Russell T. Davies drew our attention to the Master’s distinctive signet ring, inset with silver Gallifreyan writing, which was plucked from his funeral pyre by the hand of a mysterious woman who, in 2009′s The End of Time, would turn out to be one of the ‘Disciples of Saxon’, a cult formed by the Master in expectation of his death with the aim of enacting a ritual to resurrect him, still in the same incarnation at that.

This was a pleasant twist, and a fun tip of the hat to the method of Count Dracula’s resurrection in multiple Hammer Dracula films. (This is only fitting: as per The Book of the War, the Time Lords adapted their powers of regeneration from the Yssgaroth’s…)

However, I think there are two startling facts about this plot point which have been just-as-startlingly under-discussed in canon-welding spaces.

Follow me after the cut to find out the truth about the Rings of the Time Lords — or should I say the Time Lords of the Rings? (This was terrible and I do not apologise.)

Fact #1: This pays off a Chekhov’s gun going all the way back to An Unearthly Child.

Much as it is sometimes entertaining to ponder the days when Dr Who might have been a lone human scientist, there is also a distinctive corpus of early implications about The Doctor’s Mysterious People as a distinct and mysterious civilisation with dominion over space and time. It started with the Doctor himself, but was followed through with other characters implied to hail from that same civilisation: I speak of course of the Meddling Monk and the Toymaker (who, I note in passing, is not actually meant to be Celestial with a capital C).

What did the Monk have in common with the Doctor, besides a TARDIS?

A conspicuous ring.

As you can glimpse in the top left photograph, the Doctor’s ring was, to be exact, a sapphire ring.

The Toymaker did not wear a ring in the TV story as broadcast — but he did use one in the novelisation, which brought back many elements that had to be cut from the TV version due to rushed production. There, he used it to manipulate the environment of his suspiciously TARDIS-like “Celestial Toyroom”.

Not coincidentally, in The Web Planet, the Doctor’s ring was revealed to have the ability to interface with the Ship, with the Doctor gleefully declaring that “this is not merely a decorative object”, without elaboration.

The concept seems to have persisted past The War Games. Sure, the Time Lords seen therein lacked the ring — including Edward Brayshaw’s Renegade. And Roger Delgado’s subsequent regeneration of the character also lacked the ring when we first saw him in Terror of the Autons. And it’s rare that we get the chance to check thereafter, owing to the Master’s predilection for gloves. But by The Time Monster…

…he is wearing the very flat, green, gleaming ring to which RTD attached such significance in Last of the Time Lords and The End of Time.

The idea experienced a last, potentially-coincidental gasp with Kate O’Mara’s Rani, though she was similarly prone to glove-wearing.

But the point is: throughout the first half of Classics, all the interesting Time Lords had Large Conspicuous Rings. These Rings clearly did some things, but the full extent of their power and cultural significance was kept artfully obscured.

And this is what Davies is coming back to with Simm’s all-important ring. The Doctor recognises it on sight as “the Master’s Ring”, and knows what it does. He fascinatingly describes it as “part of him”, setting all kinds of biodata-related alarm bells ringing. Given that the Rings are also related to the bond between pilot and TARDIS, could they be some kind of locus of the Rassilon Imprimatur? The thrill is of course in the asking…

Fact #2: This may not be the first time it’s happened.

A shorter but equally interesting observation:

the Master has possessed this same green ring at least since his Delgado days.

the Doctor instantly jumps from “his Ring survived” to “his disciples must be arranging a ritual to resurrect him in the same incarnation”. This is something he knows Rings do and is relatively casual about.

at many points during Classic Who the Master was seemingly killed off for good, only to show up intact because “I’m indestructible… the whole Universe knows that”. (Or, as Missy later put it, “death is for other people”.)

Am I the only one who thinks that somewhere in Davies’s brain, he may have conceived of this as the secret way the Master had survived at least some of those past exterminations? Sure, the Disciples of Saxon were something set up by ol’Harold (the clue’s in the name), but it would be child’s play for a Time Lord with a working TARDIS to set up convenient cults for himself on a dozen worlds, just to be on the safe side.

I’mt thinking, particularly, of the Tremas Master’s annihilation on Sarn in my beloved Planet of Fire, which seems particularly conclusive. We see him burn away on-screen; it’s not as simple as saying he teleported to safety in the nick of time. Either time was rewritten, or he was resurrected by… means unknown.

And here’s the thing, despite his panic, the Master does seem to assume he’ll survive. What does he say to express it?

Oh yes… “I’LL PLAGUE YOU TO THE END OF TIME FOR THIS!”

Full circle, eh what? (Yes, that’s a cheap one, but fun nonetheless.)

And on that note, look at the imagery! Of course, having gone down in a column of flame, he would be reconstituted in the same way.

“I had people who were clever enough… to calculate the opposite.”

#The Master #The Tremas Master #The War Chief #Saxon Master #Time Lords #Canon-Welding #Russell T. Davies #The End of Time #Last of the Time Lords #Planet of Fire #The Time Monster #The Meddling Monk #The Rani #First Doctor #The Doctor #Rings #Doctor Who Fandom Shenanigans #Doctor Who

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nicolovespancakes · 2 months

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Speaking on more characters that remind me of Our toymaker, this one shares a name with him.

****SPOILERS FOR THE DR. WHO SPECIAL, "THE GIGGLE"****

From his Wiki directly:

- "The Toymaker, also known as the Celestial Toymaker, was a powerful being who ensnared sentient beings in seemingly childish games, with their freedom as the stakes. However, the Toymaker hated to lose and the games were always rigged in his favour."

"• According to the Sixth Doctor, "nobody [knew]" who the Toymaker really was. He was said to be "old beyond imagining" and to predate "Time Lord records". The team of modern Gallifreyan researchers who later attempted to "chart his path through Time" gave up, bored of all the games he played with his own past. The Doctor speculated that they didn't try any harder than that because they couldn't find a way to control him.

Indeed, one account showed the Toymaker acknowledging different origins in conversation with Adric and with the Doctor, once even altering the details of his story mid-conversation.

The Toymaker had lived for "millions of years". He then seemed to bear his soul to the doctor, and told him that for the first few "thousands of millennia" he spent in the Doctor's universe, he used his powers to build and assist civilisations — creating "ships, continents, whole planets even". However, he eventually got bored, until only mindless destruction could give him any satisfaction at all; after an equal length of time spent destroying everything he had previously built up, he discovered games as his final and lasting distraction, as they allowed him to embrance nihilism without falling into inactive apathy, surrendering all to the whims of chance.

One source saw the Fourteenth Doctor describe the Toymaker as an "elemental force" with "the power of a god", and suggested that he originated outside the universe; he described the Toymaker's domain as "another realm, a hollow beneath the Under-Universe"."

"• Creating the Celestial Toyroom

According to the First Doctor, the Toymaker succeeded in creating a universe of his own, "entirely in his own vision" called the Celestial Toyroom, where he would "manipulate people and turn them into his playthings". The Toymaker and his games became "notorious throughout the universe" as he spread his influence to attract people into his world and try to make them part of it."

"- By then, the Toymaker had adopted a new appearance, a tall, blond-haired man who affected a variety of outfits and accents.

Running amok, the Toymaker played games with players across the universe, including the Guardians of Time and Space, whom he turned into voodoo dolls, and "God", whom he turned into a jack-in-the-box after gambling with Him. He would go on to claim to have "made a jigsaw out of [the Doctor's] history", a claim which shocked the Fourteenth Doctor.

The Master "begged for his life with one final game", but he lost, whereupon the Toymaker imprisoned him inside his gold tooth "for all eternity". The only person the Toymaker avoided playing against was an entity he called "the One Who Waits", claiming to have "seen it hiding" and simply run away."

"- The Toymaker settled on Earth due to believing it and humanity were the "ultimate playground". In 1925, he set up a toy store and manipulated events which resulted in one of his dolls, Stooky Bill, becoming the first image viewed on a television screen. He also trapped Charles Banerjee in his domain after the latter lost a game with him, turning him partially into a doll. The Toymaker animated and immortalised the sound of Stooky Bill's laugh to spread insanity in the 21st century, as by then technology and communication had reached a point where the giggle could be heard subliminally across all screens across the planet.

The Toymaker soon met the Fourteenth Doctor and Donna Noble, luring them into his domain. He taunted the Doctor with the number of people who had died because of him over the years, which enraged the Doctor enough to challenge him to a game of Cut with his personal cards. The Toymaker won, however, he was stopped from claiming his prize when the Doctor pointed out that, as he had beaten the Toymaker once before, this only counted as one-all in a best of three match. The Toymaker then swiftly disappeared to 2023, crumpling his toyshop into a box, with the Doctor and Donna in hot pursuit.

The Toymaker arrived at UNIT HQ, entirely unthreatened by UNIT as he danced and lip-synced whilst slaughtering anybody who attempted to stop him."

"- Though "wily", he denied that he would cheat in his games, seeming genuinely offended by the suggestion. While the Fourteenth Doctor confirmed it was "the one thing he won't do" as "the rules of the game" were the only rules he would follow, the Toymaker would try to work outside the rules, such as trying to best the Doctor in a game of catch by throwing the ball without warning to catch the Doctor off-guard."

"- Within the Celestial Toyroom, the Toymaker commanded immense powers, but they were limited by the rules he or his opponents set for any particular game. The Fourteenth Doctor stated the Toymaker was bound by the rules, so much so that he could not cheat to win, even if he wanted to. He also had to follow new rules he brought into the game, even if the new rule did not gain him the result he was expecting, like how his desire to face the Fifteenth Doctor accidentally meant he also had to face the Fourteenth Doctor at the same time. Although, he could bend these rules or "forget" to mention them to his opponents if he so chose, although he was not above cheating if his opponent did also; on one occasion, he tauntingly claimed that he was just following a "new rule" his opponent had unwitingly introduced by cheating."

Or how about his changes in appearance or fashion sense?

-"Appearance

In the form encountered by the Fourteenth Doctor, the Toymaker appeared as a blond man. He wore a number of different outfits based on his whims and the current situation. When first met in 2023 he wore a black top hat, tailcoat and trousers with an alabaster bow tie and waistcoat as well as a plain white shirt. His outfit in 1925 were made up of a caramel brown leather apron, a single-breasted waistcoat of plum and sapphire tartan with a fob watch, a white and ebony pinstripe shirt, tan trousers, and white and brown spectator shoes. He also wore a shako and frock coat in scarlet and ivory with gold trims, beige breeches and ebony black boots with crimson laces when he terrorized UNIT, and then a black leather jacket with a khaki uniform and an ivory scarf as well as goggles when he took control of the galvanic beam; both events in London during 2023."

Or the way he talks?

"This body is being sustained by him. Me. Whatever. Here, let me explain. I needed a body — sadly, my original one did not… suit this universe. Your friend's is the first I have come across that isn't enfeebled and prone to wearing out every seventy years. Mortality is such a burden, I find. This one could last a good thousand years, I should imagine. (…) I think there is a tiny spark of him somewhere inside me, acting as a cohesion to keep this frame together."

"I came to this universe with such delight. And I played them all, Doctor. I toyed with supernovas, turned galaxies into spin tops. I gambled with God and made him a jack-in-the-box."

"Do you like my puppets, Doctor? Do you like my fun? All of them have played and lost, but here's my favourite one." - THE TOYMAKER TAUNTING THE DOCTOR WITH A PUPPET THAT RESEMBLES HIM.

"You know full well this is merely a face concealing a vastness that will never cease, because your good and bad are nothing to me. All that exists is to win or lose."

"I have fallen in love with humanity. This world is the ultimate playground! All of the sport, the matches, the medals, the gambling, and the anger... And the children shackled to their bedrooms with their joysticks and their buttons. You make games out of bricks falling upon other bricks. You are exceptional! And then there are the mind-games, oh... the dating and ghosting, the deceit and the control, you make me dizzy! I am in no hurry to leave this place."

"I can not die. If this shop contracts into oblivion, do you know what would happen to me? Nothing. Nothing at all. A brief interlude of silence, and then I return. Different, perhaps, a new face, voice, personality, it all depends on how bored I am of this - the essence remains."

IS THIS NOT JASON THE TOYMAKER SPEAK? DOES HE NOT SPEAK LIKE THAT?

_______________________________

This yet again came up in reference to similar demeanors, and a musical number!

You really should watch this one if you haven't, it's so fucking entertainingly funny.

https://youtu.be/hGxcTWLXAa0?si=soKDIz4xy5gVL7FT

AND ITS NEIL PATRICK HARRIS.

Anyway.

From the way he acts there, The Toymaker already presents a similar style to one such as Jason.

And a similar, mocking, cocky personality.

I love it.

"There is order, and chaos… and there is play.”

Edit: This video is also very good on example of a serious demeanor for both The Celestial Toymaker and Jason. It's where some of the quotes in the post come from.

Have a look if you like.

https://youtu.be/DXDuuiBvMGU?si=Gtgutd2FzgSy_gpd

ANOTHER EDIT: The opening scene to this episode is also, very Jason-esk. Uncanny, a bir eerie. Creepy, maybe? ;) I love the vibes. It also shows a bit of the toyshop, reminds me a LOT of Jason's own. Not to mention the way the Celestial Toymaker talks is very reminiscent to Jason, like I said.

youtube

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sherl-grey · 1 month

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This is my prompt fill for "Truth or Dare" for @doctorrosebingo ! Rose jumps into the Celestial Toyroom and has to play for her freedom. If you happen to read it, please mind the tags. I hope you enjoy!

#DoctorRose Bingo #doctorrosebingor2 #my fic #technically #though most of this fic is solo Rose #i probably should've held this and worked on it more #however technically the story is done and i am impatient so #we're just stuck with whatever this is now

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kitsunesongs · 4 months

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I have some timetoys/docmaker ideas, some of which I'm working on.

One features the timeless child at the beginning of Gallifrey, running away from being forced to regenerate again and ending up in the celestial toyroom, and it being the first time the Doctor and the Toymaker met, unbeknownst to the Doctor.

one features an AU of Utopia where in her attempt to get away from Jack, the Tardis skims the edge of the Celestial Toyroom. The Doctor gets them away - but when the Master steals the Tardis and the doctor locks the coordinates, it counts the Toyroom as the last place they went, so the Master Martha Jack and the Doctor have to team up to get away.

A ridiculously long fic I will never write where the Fourteenth Doctor, finally healed after time with Donna and the Temple-Nobles, regenerates to return to Unit Tower as 15 because Fourteen was a watcher all along - but he ends up moving farther then he should and wakes up young Theta Sigma is staring into the Vortex. At some point when Millenia and Rallon suggest stealing a Tardis he says no and says they shouldn't and thinks without him they won't go because they can only fly it with three people - but they get Koschei to go with them, so the Doctor has to go to the Toyroom to save his friends, and also not get them all killed when he beats the Toymaker and the toyroom is destroyed. This would only be one part of this fic cause the aim would be to to a peggy sue version of ALL OF DOCTOR WHO hence why this is a ridiculously long fic I will never write.

And the one I'm working on features things going differently when the Doctor and Donna get separated in the Toymakers shop backrooms.

#doctor who #fic ideas #docmaker #timetoys #thetatoys #tensimm #tenjack #tentoys #fourtoys #peggy sue #the timeless child

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fennelockley · 5 months

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Short list of Interesting/messed up plots the Toymaker has devised

So those who aren't familiar with him (them? The BBC have been playing around with pronouns, kinda hope its they/them now) can get a grasp on what he's like and what the Doctor could be up against in The Giggle.

And for those that are, feel free to add on.

- The Doctor cheats on capture the flag against sentient toys, and his two friends remain trapped forever because of his actions.

- The infamous Triologic game where the Doctor was only a floating hand and at times had his voice removed.

- This moment that is unfortunatly lost:

- An arcade game that feeds on the souls that loose to it.

- Pitting two humans against each other, and the one who got their heart rate the lowest won. (And the one that lost had a health condition)

- A game that regularly shrinks the size of the pocket of reality they're in untill it hits a point of singularity, but its sentient and traps the Toymaker instead (just... Solitare in general.. absolutely amazing).

- The continuous party trick of trapping people in snow globes.

- The Toymaker using Truth or Dare to take the TARDIS to rebuild his toyroom and the Doctors like "sure, here you go" (with genuine sincerity and not a trap on the Doctors part)

#felt the need to info dump on my favourite villian so this post was made #the celestial toymaker #14th doctor #60th anniversary #doctor who

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e350tb · 3 months

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Gravity Falls/Doctor Who - Mabel Vs The Toymaker

Mabel stood in front of the small toy store in the Gravity Falls Mall, her face set in an uncharacteristic determined frown.

It wasn’t really that much to look at. It was a faux-retro structure, the facade make of dyed red teak, with a black sign above it that read ‘The Toyroom Toys and Gifts.’ There were puppets and dolls displayed in the window next to the big wooden door, each of them painted and dressed in bright colourful costumes - clowns, jesters, harlequins, all garish in tone.

Soos swallowed as they approached the shop, gazing at the window. He looked closely at a doll with brown skin and messy hair, wearing a purple-and-white clown suit with a big red nose.

“You sure they’re here, dood?” he asked.

“The mysterious toy store that appeared overnight?” replied Mabel. “Of course Dipper would’ve come here. He couldn’t pass up a mystery like that!”

“Oh, okay.” Soos tugged on his collar. “But shouldn’t we get Stan and Ford before we go in?”

“I left a note on the table,” replied Mabel. “If anything awful happens to us, they’ll come to the rescue!”

“Oh.” Soos gulped. “Good.”

Mabel pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The store was dark, eerily lit by old electric lights that left long shadows over the creaking wooden floorboards. There were rows and rows of toys on shelves to the left and right, hidden by the darkness, but the middle of the shop was clear like a gangway, leading to the black oak counter. Behind this were more puppets, hung on hooks liked hanged men, and a few dusty old board games on small shelves below. There was nobody at the counter, but an old bell stood by the equally ancient-looking cash register.

Mabel and Soos walked to the counter, the floors squeaking and groaning under their weight. Without hesitation, Mabel began pressing the button on the bell – the dinging echoed.

“Heh, guess nobody’s home,” said Soos. “We should–”

He turned around.

“Wilkommen to mein shop.”

Soos jumped and screamed. A man had appeared behind him – he wore a cowboy’s outfit, a clearly plastic badge on his white buttoned shirt and a big black hat framing his forehead. He seemed an older gentlemen, grey-haired and somewhat weathered, but the wide smile seemed almost childish. Were it not for the strange glimmer in his blue eyes, he’d almost seem like an ordinary, if eccentric, shopkeeper.

“Oh! Sorry dude, you crept up on me!” Soos rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, we’re just here to…”

“Cut the act!” snapped Mabel, pointing accusingly at the shopkeeper. “Where’s Dipper? What did you do to him?”

The man’s brows shot up.

“Dipper?” He rubbed his chin. “Do we have ein Dipper? Let me think…”

He walked behind the counter, kneeling down to look beneath it.

“I think I saw the Dipper,” he said. “Would he have been with the red-haired girl? Green flannel, freckles?”

“Yeah,” replied Mabel, crossing her arms. “Where are they?”

“Let me see… that would be filed under das ‘Pine Tree,” mused the man. “Und das ice bag…”

Mabel smacked her hands on the counter.

“Where are they?” she demanded again.

“Now really, there’s a lot under here,” replied the shopkeeper. “I need a little time to… aha!”

He stood up, his hands cupped together.

“Now, you is looking for the Dipper, ja?” he said. “Und the Wendy?”

“Yeah!” snapped Mabel. “Where are they?”

“Uh… dood,” Soos put a hand on Mabel’s shoulder. “We never told him Wendy’s name.”

“Here ist das Dipper…” The man placed a small object on the counter. “...und das Wendy.” He placed another next to it.

Mabel took up the objects with trembling hands. One was a wooden figurine teenage boy, wearing a vest, orange shirt and shorts, and clad in a familiar blue and white hat, smiling fairly neutrally up at her. The other was a teenage girl with long red hair, a trapper hat, a green flannel shirt and jeans, again with an easy smile. Their features were printed on the front and back of the flat figures, with the sides an unpainted wood colour. They were like little figures from an old wooden train set.

“What did you do to them?!” Mabel exclaimed, horrified.

“Ah, you see, little Dipper wanted to see what the ‘mystery’ of this little shop was,” replied the man, “so he dragged his little girlfriend here to snoop around, see what they could see. Und that’s when they found me, and all of my toys, and Dipper, he was so confident, he wanted me to let them go. So I told him I would play a game with him. If he won, I’d give him all my toys. But if I won…”

He grinned, and Mabel noticed he seemed to have far too many teeth. A single golden tooth shimmered in the left side of his mouth.

“Ah, but I did win,” he continued. “And now we both have what we wanted, ja? Dipper und Wendy get to know the mystery of the toy shop, forever und ever, and I get some more new toys to have fun with.”

“But why?” asked Mabel. “Why make them this? Who are you?”

The man took the wooden Dipper and Wendy out of Mabel’s hands, placing them on the table.

“I am the Toymaker,” he replied, his accent slipping from a faux German to a deep British.

“Yeah, kinda guess that, dood,” said Soos, looking around. “I mean I guess it’s a hobby.”

“Soos!”

“What? You gotta hand it to him, there’s some pretty neat stuff in here,” Soos shrugged.

Mabel narrowed her eyes.

“Yeah, sorry, I deserve that.” Soos looked at his feet.

Mabel turned back to the Toymaker, reaching for the wooden figures.

“Ah-ah-ah!” the Toymaker raised his hand. “You cannot be having my toys. That is theft! Scandalous!”

“They’re not yours!” shouted Mabel.

“But they are,” replied the Toymaker. “I won them, fair und square! If you want them back, you must be winning the game yourself.”

Mabel and Soos exchanged glances.

“Soos,” she said, “go tell Grunkle Stan what’s happening.”

“On it!” Soos saluted and headed for the door. He reached it, pushed on it - and slammed into it as it failed to move.

“Aw man, I always do that…”

He tried pulling, but to no avail.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” said the Toymaker. “No leaving until the game is complete.”

Mabel furrowed her brow.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll play your game. I mean, I don’t really have a choice…”

The Toymaker leaned in.

“Well then,” he said, and the store shifted around them. Suddenly, the counter was a table, and Mabel was swept onto a chair across from the Toymaker. She heard a yelp, and Soos was pushed into place next to them.

The Toymaker narrowed his eyes.

“What shall we play?”

He leaned back, producing a deck of cards which he began to shuffle.

“I have been busy since I found your brother, you know,” he said, his accent becoming British again. “Your town has been an interesting little distraction from my… current game. So much more colourful than that joyless Doctor…”

He flipped through the cards impossibly quickly.

“I beat the Time Baby in a game of snap,” he said, “and made him into so many marbles. I trapped the unicorns in slide-puzzles, and exiled the Shapeshifter to the Baltic Avenue space - though I prefer Coventry Street myself. I made Blendin Blandin my Joker card…”

He held up the Joker, revealing a picture of the time traveller on the front. He tossed it away contemptuously.

“Bill Cipher played for his freedom,” he continued. “He lost. I made him a talking board.”

“Bill?” Mabel’s eyes widened. “But how?”

“I still wait for the main game,” said the Toymaker, ignoring Mabel’s response. “The final contest against the Doctor. But I do enjoy a few extra games on the side.”

“Who’s the Doctor?” asked Soos.

“I don’t get it,” said Mabel. “Dipper and Wendy only disappeared last night. How’d you get the time to play against all those other people?”

“You really think I would be so boring as to obey the rules of linear time?” sniffed the Toymaker.

Mabel stared at the Dipper and Wendy figures.

“So they could’ve actually been here for…”

“We have spoken enough!” The Toymaker’s German accent briefly returned. “Now… what shall we play, Mabel Pines?”

“How do we know you won’t cheat?” asked Mabel.

The Toymaker’s eyes widened.

“Never!” he exclaimed. “Outrageous! For shame! I must abide by the rules of the game! To do otherwise would be unthinkable!”

Mabel and Soos exchanged glances.

“Go fish,” declared Mabel. “We’ll play that.”

“Sehr gut!” The German accent was back again as he dealt the cards - seven for him, seven for Mabel. He shuffled the cards again and placed them face down in the middle. “Most matches win?”

“You’re on.”

The Toymaker leaned in.

“By all means,” he said. “You first.”

Mabel looked down at her hand - ten of spades, queen of hearts, eight of hearts, seven of diamonds, ace of diamonds, seven of clubs and nine of clubs. She swallowed.

“Do you have any sevens?” she asked.

The Toymaker pulled a single card from his deck and handed it over - the seven of diamonds. Soos began to lean over to see his hand - he slapped him away.

“Okay… do you have any tens?”

The Toymaker smirked.

“Go fish.”

Mabel picked up another card - the nine of spades. The Toymaker studied his cards.

“You know, your brother challenged me to a game of logic,” he said. “Chess. Do you have any eights?”

Mabel swallowed, handing over her eight of hearts.

“Chess?” she quizzed.

“Ja,” the Toymaker nodded. “Nearly won too. Just made one tiny wrong move… but sometimes that’s all it takes.”

He smirked.

“Show me your Queens.”

Mabel handed over the queen of hearts.

“Aw man, dood, I can’t watch…” Soos covered his eyes.

“It’s always the ones that be thinking they are the cleverest,” sneered the Toymaker. “I would like to play your Großonkel Ford after we’ve finished here. Fours?”

Mabel shook her head. “Go fish.”

The Toymaker shrugged, drawing a card.

“It is always fun to play against the hubristic,” he said.

“Got any aces?” demanded Mabel.

The Toymaker smirked again. “Go fish.”

Mabel drew once more - the Jack of clubs.

“Ford would clean you up,” she snorted.

“No, I think I would be doing the cleaning,” he replied. “He is, as they say, too clever by half. Like the poor Dipper. Got any nines?”

With a shaking hand, Mabel handed over her two nines.

“Wunderbar,” said the Toymaker. “And any fives?”

“Go fish, jerk,” spat Mabel.

“Ooh, bad sportsmanship.” The toymaker shook his head as he drew a card. “But I am right, no? Sooner or later he was always going to end up in a fight he couldn’t win.”

“Jacks?” asked Mabel, trying not to take the bait.

“You must be going fishing!” The Toymaker clapped his hands together.

Mabel gritted her teeth, drawing the king of diamonds. The Toymaker grinned unpleasantly.

“Sevens?”

Mabel gulped - she had three, nearly a match. Still, she reluctantly handed them over.

“And poor Wendy,” he continued. “She tried to fight me when he lost – can you believe that? So uncivilised. Threes?”

“Go fish.”

“But what can you expect from her kind?” asked the Toymaker, drawing the card. “So headstrong. So foolish. If she wanted so badly to stay with her Dipper, I could only oblige.”

“Got any fours?”

“Go und fish!”

Mabel drew a card - the ace of hearts.

“So many possibilities for matches,” said the Toymaker, looking at his hand. “Any nines?”

“Go fish.”

The Toymaker shrugged, drawing a card.

“Jacks?” asked Mabel.

The Toymaker handed over a card - the Jack of hearts.

“How about you give me my sevens back?” she demanded.

The Toymaker smiled wryly and did so.

“How ‘bout any tens?”

“Go fish.”

She drew a three of hearts.

It continued like this for a few more turns. The Toymaker quickly seized the three but had to go fish asking for twos. Mabel claimed the three of clubs from him but lost out asking for fours - she ‘fished’ a four of diamonds, ironically enough. The Toymaker took Mabel’s aces, but went fishing when she had no fives. Mabel asked for Jacks and got nothing, fishing a ten of hearts.

The Toymaker smirked.

“Your sevens, fraulein.”

Mabel handed them over with a shaking hand, and the Toymaker laid them out in front of him, along with a single seven of spades from his hand.

“Ein point for me.”

“Uh, when we get turned into toys and stuff,” said Soos, “can I be a teddy bear? Feels like that’d hurt less.”

“Soos!” exclaimed Mabel.

“Any tens?”

Mabel swallowed as she handed them over.

“Just sayin’,” Soos shrugged.

“How about twos?”

“Go fish,” grunted Mabel.

She looked at her hand as the Toymaker did so.

“Any nines?” she asked.

The Toymaker handed over the nines of clubs, spades and hearts.

“You would be making good playing cards, I think,” he said.

“Shut up,” said Mabel. “Threes?”

“Go und fish.”

She drew the five of spades…

“Any Kings?”

…and handed over the King of Diamonds. She had no sixes, though, so the Toymaker drew.

On the game went. Mabel got two eights, spades and hearts, but the Toymaker had no fours, so she drew a four of clubs. The Toymaker asks for eights but got none. Mabel took three twos from him, missing only the two of spades, and reclaimed the nines, but he had no threes, so she drew. The Toymaker requested aces but got nothing.

“Any fives?”

The Toymaker handed over three cards. She gathered them with her five of spades and slapped them on the table in front of her.

“Read ‘em and weep, sucker!” she snapped. “One to me! Now show me a three!”

“Nein, go fish.”

Mabel slapped her forehead and drew. As she did so, her eyes widened, and she gathered the new jack with her three other jacks and put them in front of her.

“Two to me.”

“Ja, ja, very good,” the Toymaker said dismissively. “Your nines.”

Mabel shook her head as she handed over her three nines.

“Und your aces?”

“Go fish,” snorted Mabel.

The Toymaker drew.

“Show me your fours.”

“Nein, go fish.”

She drew an eight of diamonds, and immediately had to hand it over as the Toymaker asked for eights. She had no Kings, so he drew again.

On it went. Mabel asked for tens and got nothing, but drew the ten of clubs anyway. The Toymaker took back the nines and unsuccessfully tried for eights. Mabel took back the Kings but had no luck on threes. She drew a queen of diamonds that the Toymaker promptly took, along with her twos. These he drew in front of him - another set. He had no luck on nines, and Mabel took the queens back. He’d no threes so she drew again - eight of clubs.

The Toymaker took her tens. He had no luck on aces, but drew the nine of diamonds and made another match. Mabels took his aces, but drew when he had no kings. He took her fours, and then looked at her over the cards.

“Shall we up the ante?” he asked. “One turn each from now on. We keep going until we have no cards.”

Mabel scratched her chin.

“Wouldn’t that be messing with the rules?” she asked.

“Not,” replied the Toymaker, “if they are house rules.”

Mabel nodded.

“Fine,” she said.

She looked at her cards.

“Eights?”

The Toymaker handed over three - another set!

“Sixes?” he asked.

Mabel handed over her six, and the Toymaker made another set.

“Aw dood…” Soos clutched his head, sweating.

“Threes.”

“Go fish.”

Mabel drew a card - three of diamonds.

“Fours?”

Mabel swallowed. “Go fish.”

He drew a card.

“Kings?”

“Go fish.”

She drew the four of spades.

“Tens?”

“Go fish.”

He drew as she looked at her cards, sweating.

She inhaled deeply.

“Aces?”

He handed over two cards, and Mabel made another set.

“Fours?” he asked again.

Mabel handed over hers - he made a set once more. She looked at her cards - three threes, three queens, three kings.

“Q-queens?” she stammered.

“Go und fish.”

She drew with trembling hand, and produced the king of spades. She laid them out - one more match.

“We are tied!” exclaimed the Toymaker. “With three suits left in play. Oh, I am so excited! Now… your threes.”

Mabel swallowed, handing them over.

“Now,” exclaimed the Toymaker. “The gamble! I have six cards, you have three. To complete the set, one of us must draw. Will it be you?”

Mabel looked down at the deck - there were a paltry few cards left. She took a deep breath and channelled her inner Grunkle Stan.

“Got any queens?” she asked, knowing full-well he didn’t.

He gestured to the cards, and she drew.

She looked down at the Three of Spades in her hand.

“Your turn.”

“Hmm…” the Toymaker scratched his chin. “If I correctly guess what you have, I can take it, and you lose. But if I don’t… a roll of the dice. A pure gamble.”

He leaned in, studying Mabel closely.

“Do you have any… tens?”

Mabel let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“Go fish.”

He did so.

“Ten of diamonds,” he said, “a set.”

He laid them in front of him.

“Got any threes?” demanded Mabel.

He handed three over, and she too made a set.

“No cards,” said the Toymaker. “I have no choice but to draw… and we both know I’ll get…”

He drew the card.

“Got any queens?” asked Mabel.

“The Queen of Spades,” nodded the Toymaker. “The last remaining card.”

He handed it over, and Mabel laid her remaining cards in front of her.

“Seven points,” said Mabel. “You’ve only got six. I win.”

The Toymaker nodded, impressed.

“A bold gamble at the end,” he said. “You would put so much on the line to save your brother. It… puzzles me.”

Mabel leaned over the table.

“Give them back,” she snarled. “Now.”

The Toymaker adjusted his hat.

“Well why didn’t y’all just say so?” he asked in an exaggerated cowboy accent. “One Dipper n’ one Wendy comin’ right up!”

He clapped his hands together.

“O’ course,” he continued, “you never specified in what condition you’d get ‘em, sooo…”

“Wait, what?” exclaimed Mabel.

“Aw dood! He tricked us with genie logic!” blurted Soos.

“No, I want them back as people!” shouted Mabel. “You hear me? As peo–”

“Guten tag, fraulein! Danke for playing!”

Mabel felt herself being sucked backwards, flying through the air towards the door - which seemed a lot farther away then it had been when she entered. With a mighty crash, she slammed through the door, skidding along the cold, marble floors of the mall and coming to a stop in front of a bench. Soos flew out after her, flying across the mall and into a garbage can on the other side.

“Mabel!”

Mabel looked up, rubbing her head. Grunkle Stan was leaning over her, clutching her shoulders.

“What happened?!” he exclaimed. “What did that shyster do to you? I’m gonna give him a piece o’...”

“That might not be possible, Stanley.”

Ford was looking back towards the store front - the toy shop was gone, replaced with a close shutter and a ‘new store opening soon’ banner. He shook his head, turning back to Mabel.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Where’s Dipper and Wendy?”

Mabel felt something hard in her hand - she opened it, and the little figures that were her brother and friend sat on her palm, as inanimate as any object.

“Ford,” said Stan, his voice dangerously calm. “We’re gonna find this jerk, right?”

Ford shook his head.

“I don’t know, Stan,” he replied. “The Celestial Toymaker might only be found if he wants to be found. It’s possible he’s tracking an, uh, mutual acquaintance, but if anything that man’s even more difficult to find.”

“But we can turn them back, right?” Mabel asked.

Ford put a hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But I will try, I promise.”

“And if we can’t?” demanded Stan.

Ford took a deep breath.

“Then we track him,” he said. “And if we can’t track him… we wait.”

Mabel looked down at the small figures, wondering what they must be feeling right now. She blinked some tears out of her eyes and held them close to her heart, hoping they could at least feel the beat.

“I’ll fix this, guys,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Dipper and Wendy didn’t reply.

#doctor who #gravity falls #mabel pines #the toymaker #soos ramirez #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #grunkle stan #ford pines #fanfiction #writing

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