timelordhonour - Tumblr blog

[timelordhonour]

A little part of my fanfiction that I am reworking.

As Regina, Robin, and little Roland entered Granny’s Diner, a ripple of quiet acknowledgment passed through the crowd. Regina's presence always carried weight, even if she wasn’t the Evil Queen anymore. Her eyes swept over the gathered townspeople—friends, allies, and some who still held reservations about her. She had fought hard for her redemption, and yet, the shadow of her past always seemed to follow her.

Robin found an empty booth near the back, guiding Roland over to it, lifting his son up into the seat. Regina trailed behind them, her posture strong, but a hint of weariness tugging at the corners of her eyes. Just before sitting down, she paused, glancing around the room.

And that’s when she felt it. A shift. Someone was watching her—a woman she didn’t recognise. Her face was pale, her body tense, and her wide eyes were locked onto Regina with unmistakable fear.

“It’s the Evil Queen,” the woman whispered urgently to Emma, her voice trembling. She looked terrified, as though any moment Regina might return to her old ways.

Emma, seated across from the woman with Hook, leaned in as she tried to soothe her. “It’s okay,” Emma said gently. “She’s different now. She’s not the same person anymore. I promise. You’ll see. Just … stay here, okay?” Emma gave her a soft smile before standing up and making her way toward Regina, intercepting her just as she was about to slide into the booth with Robin and Roland.

“Regina, there’s something you should know,” Emma began carefully. Regina raised an eyebrow, already sensing trouble. “I, uh… I brought someone back from the past. This woman,” Emma glanced briefly at the booth, “and she still thinks of you as… well...”

“Evil,” Regina finished for her, her lips pressing into a thin line. She folded her arms. “Of course she does.”

Emma shifted on her feet. “I told her it’s okay, but it’s a little delicate. I feel like if she met you, maybe… I don’t know, maybe seeing you now could help?”

Regina’s eyes flickered with understanding, though the old hurt lingered just beneath the surface. “I understand,” she said.

Emma gave a grateful nod and walked back to where Hook sat with the woman. “Come on,” Emma said, gesturing for her to follow. The woman hesitated, casting one last nervous glance toward Regina before rising slowly. Together, they made their way across the diner.

As they neared the booth, Robin, who had been absently looking down at Roland, glanced up—and his world stopped.

“Marian?” he breathed, his eyes widening in disbelief. He shot to his feet, his heart pounding. It couldn’t be. He had mourned her. He had buried her in his heart. Yet there she was, standing right in front of him, as if the years and the grief had all been a bad dream.

“Robin?” Marian whispered.

“I thought you were dead,” Robin said. He moved toward her, his arms enveloping her in a tight embrace. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“And I you,” Marian replied, her arms wrapping around him just as tightly. Tears spilled from her eyes as she held him close, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.

Roland slid out of the booth and approached them cautiously. “Mama?” he asked.

Marian knelt down to his level, tears streaming freely now. “Roland? Oh, my baby,” she whispered, pulling him into her arms. “My sweet boy!” She hugged him tightly, her hands gently stroking his hair as she kissed the top of his head. “Mama’s here. I’m here.”

For a moment, the diner seemed to disappear around them. Robin, Marian, and Roland were lost in their reunion, the world narrowing to just the three of them.

But not for everyone.

Regina stood frozen, her breath catching in her throat as she watched the scene before her. Robin, the man she had allowed herself to love—the man she had dared to hope for—was embracing the woman he thought he’d lost forever. The woman who had been his love first.

And where did that leave Regina? Alone. Again. She swallowed hard, the sharp sting of heartbreak settling in her chest.

She glared at Emma, anger rising in her like a wave. “You,” she hissed. “You did this?”

Emma stepped forward. “I just … I wanted to save her life,” she said quietly.

Regina’s eyes flashed with fury. “You’re just like your mother,” she snapped. “Always rushing in, always trying to be the saviour, never stopping to think about the consequences.”

“I didn’t know,” Emma said. “I didn’t know she was Robin’s—”

“Of course you didn’t!” Regina cut her off. “You never do.” She took a step forward, her eyes blazing with a fury she hadn’t felt in ages. “Well, you better hope to hell that you didn’t bring anything else back.”

Emma swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. This wasn’t what she wanted. She hadn’t meant to hurt Regina. She hadn’t meant for any of this. But the damage was done. She could see it in Regina’s eyes—pain, betrayal, and the weight of years spent trying to build something good, only for it to be torn away again.

Robin, still holding Marian close, finally noticed the tension in the air. He looked between Regina and Emma, confusion clouding his face. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Regina took a shaky breath, her eyes softening for just a moment as she met Robin’s gaze. But the sight of him with Marian—of him reunited with the woman he thought he’d lost—was too much to bear. She shook her head. “Nothing,” she whispered. “Nothing at all.”

[timelordhonour]

A little drabble of my reworked Once Upon a Time Lord book 2:

Outside the back room, Cora’s frustration grew as she relentlessly worked to weaken the protection spell. She glanced at the dagger in her hand, noting with increasing worry that Rumplestiltskin's name was nearly gone. Time was running out. She redoubled her efforts, her determination driving her to break through the magical barrier. Finally, with a triumphant surge of power, she shattered the spell and entered the back room of the pawn shop.

Her eyes fell upon the TARDIS, now surrounded by yet another protection spell. She sighed. Her patience was beginning to thin. How many obstacles would she have to overcome before claiming the power of the Dark One? At this rate, the opportunity might slip away.

Stretching out her arm again, she began to dismantle the new protection spell. A few seconds in, a familiar voice echoed around her, causing her to jump.

"That's never going to work, dearie," the voice taunted.

Cora whirled around, her eyes widening as she saw a figure she thought she would never see again. It was Rumplestiltskin, complete with his scaly skin and leather outfit.

"You're alive," she gasped.

The figure smirked. "I'm alive, yes. But I'm not Rumplestiltskin."

"You must be. You look like him," Cora insisted.

"The TARDIS Voice Visual Interface," the hologram explained. "I'm programmed to select the image of a person you esteem. Of several billion such images in my databanks, this one best meets the criterion."

"If you're the TARDIS, you can let me in," Cora demanded.

The hologram shook its head, a rueful smile playing on its lips. "I'm afraid not, dearie. I must protect the people inside."

"Let me in," Cora repeated, her voice beginning to rise. "I'm only doing what's best. What's best for my family."

"And yet… here you are on the verge of murder," the hologram replied, its tone dripping with irony.

Cora opened her mouth to retort when the TARDIS phone started to ring. She turned to look at it. But, when she turned back to the hologram, it had vanished, leaving her standing alone in the room, her path forward still blocked.

She clenched her fists. Every second counted, and she couldn't afford to be delayed any longer. But the TARDIS had anticipated her moves, and its defences were proving more formidable than she had expected. With a deep breath, she refocused her energy, determined to find a way through. The power of the Dark One was within her grasp, and she would stop at nothing to claim it.

[timelordhonour]

I need to be on this account more.

[timelordhonour]

A drawing I drew based on this chapter (I can't really draw, though)

That night, the Professor and Daenerys were sharing a bath. Her handmaidens had drawn it to their liking before leaving the two of them alone together. The Professor sat at one end of the tub, with Daenerys at the other. With a washcloth in one hand, he reached for one of her feet and began to wash it gently.

Daenerys looked at him lovingly and sighed as she felt him wash around her foot. “There are times when I want nothing but to lie in bed with you,” she told him, humming as she felt the warmth of the waters beginning to ease the tension around her shoulders.

The Professor nodded thoughtfully. “I would love that,” he stated. Staying in bed with the woman he loved sounded like a good time. Something that he would enjoy. Something that he knew both of them would want. He moved to pick up her other foot to do the same to that one.

As the Professor moved to focus on her other foot, Daenerys felt her toes bump against the side of his feet. Murmuring an apology, she rested her feet upon his legs. She hummed as she let him wash around her other foot, humming more in contentment, and she closed her eyes. It was a vulnerable position for her, but she trusted the Professor and knew that he wouldn’t hurt her or let harm come to her in any way.

“Do you remember when we first met?” She asked him after a while. Her eyes were still closed, but she was smiling.

He smiled as he thought back to that day, moving his hands around her feet and ankles in small, gentle motions. “I do,” he answered. “Back in Pentos. And if I recall, you were quite nervous.”

She let out a contented sigh. “I was. And a couple of days later, when you came to help me. In the Dothraki Sea. Seeing you step out of that travelling box of yours was nothing short of majestic. Especially when that was when I felt I needed you the most,” she told him. “And I guess that was when I knew I liked you.” She didn’t know then that she would ever be in love with him. Back then, it was more of a youthful crush. It wasn’t until they spent more time together that her youthful crush became love. But even then, she had to focus on duty over personal feelings. She clipped a foot out of his grip and poked him on the side of his leg, smiling.

The Professor smiled to himself. The way he had heard Daenerys speak about it, especially when he had come to her aide in the Dothraki Sea, he supposed it would have been majestic. And hearing those words from Daenerys filled his hearts with happiness. He wouldn’t have thought his life would have turned out like this, but he was glad it did.

Feeling her foot against his leg, the Professor looked over at her. “Are you after something?” he asked.

Daenerys had opened her eyes and stared back at him with a playful smirk. “Yes. You,” she said. “Here. Turn around. Let me wash you.” The Professor managed to turn around in the tub, and Daenerys inched closer. A washcloth in her hand, she began to sponge at his back. She watched the water dripping from his back before placing a hand against the skin and leaning her cheek against him. She closed her eyes again, listening to the faint beat of his two hearts and his breathing.

[timelordhonour]

They missed a trick introducing the new TARDIS console room in this episode. It should have been Jodie's version and regenerated after Donna fucked it up

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Thinking of taking a break from my Once Upon a Time Lord fan fiction. I still have ideas for it, but I don't know how to work on the current instalment. I have other ideas for future plots that I would love to work on, though.

[timelordhonour]

Loyalty and Intrigue Unveiled

story link

That night, the Professor and Daenerys were sharing a bath. Her handmaidens had drawn it to their liking before leaving the two of them alone together. The Professor sat at one end of the tub, with Daenerys at the other. With a washcloth in one hand, he reached for one of her feet and began to wash it gently.

Daenerys looked at him lovingly and sighed as she felt him wash around her foot. “There are times when I want nothing but to lie in bed with you,” she told him, humming as she felt the warmth of the waters beginning to ease the tension around her shoulders.

The Professor nodded thoughtfully. “I would love that,” he stated. Staying in bed with the woman he loved sounded like a good time. Something that he would enjoy. Something that he knew both of them would want. He moved to pick up her other foot to do the same to that one.

As the Professor moved to focus on her other foot, Daenerys felt her toes bump against the side of his feet. Murmuring an apology, she rested her feet upon his legs. She hummed as she let him wash around her other foot, humming more in contentment, and she closed her eyes. It was a vulnerable position for her, but she trusted the Professor and knew that he wouldn’t hurt her or let harm come to her in any way.

“Do you remember when we first met?” She asked him after a while. Her eyes were still closed, but she was smiling.

He smiled as he thought back to that day, moving his hands around her feet and ankles in small, gentle motions. “I do,” he answered. “Back in Pentos. And if I recall, you were quite nervous.”

She let out a contented sigh. “I was. And a couple of days later, when you came to help me. In the Dothraki Sea. Seeing you step out of that travelling box of yours was nothing short of majestic. Especially when that was when I felt I needed you the most,” she told him. “And I guess that was when I knew I liked you.” She didn’t know then that she would ever be in love with him. Back then, it was more of a youthful crush. It wasn’t until they spent more time together that her youthful crush became love. But even then, she had to focus on duty over personal feelings. She clipped a foot out of his grip and poked him on the side of his leg, smiling.

The Professor smiled to himself. The way he had heard Daenerys speak about it, especially when he had come to her aide in the Dothraki Sea, he supposed it would have been majestic. And hearing those words from Daenerys filled his hearts with happiness. He wouldn’t have thought his life would have turned out like this, but he was glad it did.

Feeling her foot against his leg, the Professor looked over at her. “Are you after something?” he asked.

Daenerys had opened her eyes and stared back at him with a playful smirk. “Yes. You,” she said. “Here. Turn around. Let me wash you.” The Professor managed to turn around in the tub, and Daenerys inched closer. A washcloth in her hand, she began to sponge at his back. She watched the water dripping from his back before placing a hand against the skin and leaning her cheek against him. She closed her eyes again, listening to the faint beat of his two hearts and his breathing.

It was peaceful. A peaceful moment just between them. But it didn’t stay that way for long. The curtained wall pushed aside, and a helmeted Unsullied walked towards them, brandishing a small dagger. The Professor and Daenerys turned their attention to him. “What is the meaning of this?” the Time Lord asked, his eyes focusing on the dagger.

“No screaming, please,” the man said. He spoke with the Common Tongue and didn’t have such a thick Valyrian accent. Not like the other Unsullied, who still weren’t fluent in the Common Tongue. “We don’t want to alert the rest of your guards now, do we?”

Daenerys let her hand snake around to hold the Professor’s. Her gaze was on the man and his dagger, watching as he sheathed his blade back into his holster before removing his helmet. It was Daario Naharis. “What do you want?” Daenerys asked.

“You,” Daario answered.

“Why?” the Professor asked.

Daenerys leaned closer to the Professor. “He was sent here to kill me,” she told him. “To kill us.”

Daario chuckled. “I don’t want to kill you.”

“What do your captains have to say about that?”

“You should ask them,” Daario took off his shoulder bag and tipped it upside down, where two severed heads rolled onto the floor. One was the head of Prendahl na Ghezn, and the other was Mero, the Titan’s Bastard.

“Why?” the Professor asked.

“Because we had philosophical differences.”

“Over what?”

Daario pointed to Daenerys. “Her beauty. It means more to me than to them.”

Daenerys’ eyes held a mixture of confusion and concern. “You killed your fellow captains because of me?”

Daario nodded, letting his lips curl into a half-smile. “Their priorities were misplaced. Power, control, riches – their ambitions blinded them.”

“You’re a strange man,” Daenerys pointed out.

“I’m the simplest man you’ll ever meet. I only do what I want to do.”

“And this is supposed to impress me?”

“Yes,” Daario answered.

“Why should I trust a man who murders his comrades?”

“They ordered me to murder you. Both of you. I told them I preferred not to. They told me I had no choice. I told them I am Daario Naharis. I always have a choice. They drew their swords, and I drew mine.”

The Professor’s gaze remained locked on Daario. “What is it that you want, then?”

“I want to serve a queen who is truly worthy,” Daario told him. “One who isn’t afraid to challenge conventions and break free from the chains of tradition. You, Mother of Dragons, possess that fire, that spirit.”

Daenerys looked at him; then she looked at the Professor. Slowly, they removed the tub, water dripping down over their naked bodies as they stepped out. Grabbing their robes, the Professor put on his one – tying it loosely – before helping Daenerys with hers. Then, their attention turned to focus on Daario.

“And you will fight for me?” Daenerys asked, and Daario nodded. “Then swear to me.”

Daario took his arakh from his sheath and knelt before Daenerys and the Professor, placing the Dothraki blade across his knee. “The Second Sons are yours, and so is Daario Naharis. My sword is yours, and my life is yours. I swear to serve you both. From this day until my last day.”

[timelordhonour]

Unveiling Secrets

Story link

Regina, Maleficent, and Cruella stood in awe as the wood engulfed August, while Missy returned from the console with a mischievous grin. Soon, August's groans filled the air, and the wood retreated, revealing him as a man once more.

"Oh, temporary indeed!" Cruella laughed. "You do love your little tricks, don't you?"

"He may have shed his puppet form," Missy remarked, her voice dripping with a mix of delight and madness. "But the crucial point is that his innate lie detector is fully functional again."

"I'm afraid I haven't the foggiest notion of what you're on about," August replied, wincing as a sharp pain pricked the tip of his nose. The women observed as his nose began to grow.

"Now you're getting the picture," Missy said, seizing August and dragging him toward the doors of her TARDIS. Stepping into the living room of Mr Gold's cabin, she beckoned the three women to follow. With a mischievous glint in her eye, Missy turned to them. "Could one of you darlings be a dear and set that fireplace ablaze?"

Maleficent conjured a fireball in her palm and hurled it into the hearth.

"Marvellous," Missy chuckled. "Now, August, I must offer my apologies. This next lie is going to hurt." She yanked him up by his collar, dragging him closer to the fire, ensuring the tip of his nose hovered just above the flames. Ignoring August's pained grunts, she interrogated him further. "The Author, dear. What do you know?"

"I've already told you everything," August replied, his nose growing again, inching dangerously close to the fire.

"Have you now?" Missy questioned, then she leaned closer to his ear. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," August responded, his nose lengthening further.

"You're not catching on, are you?" Missy taunted. "I require this answer. Tell me where the Author is. Tell me, right now!"

August sighed, relenting. "All right," he conceded. "I'll tell you what you want to know. The Sorcerer, uh, trapped the Author behind a door."

"The Sorcerer? A door?" Cruella chimed in. "He's speaking in riddles."

Missy fell silent. The Sorcerer? Could it be the Sorcerer's hat? The very hat that had once entrapped her?

August stole a glance at Missy. "You've heard of the Sorcerer, haven't you? It's written all over your face. You know I'm telling the truth," he asserted, then shifted his gaze to Regina. "And Regina knows about the door too. I know my father gave you my belongings. There was a page I tore from the book—a sketch of the door."

Missy furrowed her brow at the revelation. "Regina?" she inquired.

"They were just fragments," Regina responded.

"Well, then you shouldn't have any qualms about sharing them with us now."

"I would, if I hadn't already given them to Henry."

Missy nodded slowly, turning back to August. "Can you recall what the door looked like?"

"Um," August hesitated, straining to remember. "It was crafted from wood. Elaborate carvings on the frame. Gleaming with golden accents."

"Where can we find this door?"

"All I know is," August replied, "it's somewhere in Storybrooke."

Missy chuckled, patting his back as she forcefully pushed August back into the chair. "Wasn't so hard, was it?"

“This Sorcerer has a mansion by the lake,” Regina commented. “Maybe we could start there?”

Missy's eyes sparkled with delight as she responded to Regina's suggestion. "Well done, you! We shall embark on our quest for this elusive door at this Sorcerer's magnificent abode." She turned her attention to Maleficent. "Maleficent, my dear? Are you joining us?"

Regina looked at August. “I’ll stay here and watch the puppet.”

"No, no, no, dear. That duty belongs to Cruella," Missy declared firmly. "You, my dear, are the sole possessor of the knowledge encapsulated in that drawing of the door. Hence, you must aid us in our search."

[timelordhonour]

Unraveling Fates

Link to the full story here. I elaborated on the whole Will Scarlet and the book of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland bit, where Will still remembers Anastasia (the Red Queen) and still wants to be with her.

Emma walked out of her sheriff’s office and towards the cell that Will Scarlet was in after being arrested the previous night for drunken behaviour. Which also ruined her date night with Hook.

Will laid on the uncomfortable bed of the cell, groaning, before turning his head, which was where he saw Emma approaching the bars of the cell. “Oh, bloody hell,” he cursed.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Emma greeted, leaning into the cell. “Wanna tell me why you broke into the library last night?”

“The what?” Will asked, then remembered where he had been the previous night. “Oh, that’s what that place was? I just thought it was a poorly stocked pub.”

“Okay, I get it. Every town needs a village idiot. But your little stunt pulled me away from an important investigation. And it also interrupted my night off. Start talking.”

“The last thing I remember is running away from you,” Will said. “And then, I celebrated my escape with a nice bottle of whisky.”

Emma held up the book what she was holding. “Did you celebrate with all your friends?” she asked. “Alice and the White Rabbit?”

Will’s eyes widened at the sound of those names. His friends. He hadn’t heard of them – or seen them – in months. Not since the wedding. He turned his head towards Emma and saw the book she was holding. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Though the illustration was off. Alice never looked anything like the girl on the cover. And never did the Caterpillar. Will got up off the bed quickly. And he approached the bars.

“This was on you in the library,” Emma stated, then pulled out a ripped page from her pocket. The page was clearly from the book. “This was in your pocket.”

Will looked down at the page. But, more importantly, it was the person drawn on the page. “Anastasia,” he whispered to himself. He had missed her every day. He thought he would be with her, like the old times. But he had found himself in Storybrooke again. He didn’t know how but he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be with her. With Anastasia. But how could he go back there? To Wonderland?

“Anastasia?” Emma had heard him whisper. “Does she mean anything to you?”

Will was silent. She was his past. She was supposed to be his future, too. He didn’t want to share his past – or future – with any old person. And certainly not the sheriff of this town. “Nope,” he lied. “Doesn’t mean a thing.”

“You said a name. Who’s Anastasia?”

“No one that you would know. Or understand.”

Emma frowned. She was getting nowhere with him. “Okay. What about your eye? Did you get a look at whoever gave you that shiner?”

Will looked behind Emma and saw Hook enter the room. “Now, that is an interesting question, isn’t it?” he asked, recognizing the pirate as the one who gave him his black eye.

Emma turned around when she heard footsteps approaching. “Where were you?” she asked.

“Sorry, love. I just got your message. I …” Hook said, though he didn’t know what to say. Or how to explain what he had been doing the previous night.

“It’s okay,” Emma smiled. “I just need another minute here.” She turned back to face Will. “You were about to tell me who did that to your face.”

“It’s a bloody mystery to me,” Will lied. “Your guess is s good as mine. Must’ve been some party, eh?”

“Well, if you remember anything, I’ll know where to find you,” Emma said, then turned to walk away.

“You’re just gonna keep me in here because I broke into a bloody library?” Will yelled after her.

Emma turned around. “Because you crashed my date.” She turned to face Hook again. “Which turned out pretty good despite the rude interruption.” She looked down and saw that he had the hook back on his left wrist. “What the hell happened to your hand?”

“It appears the Dark One’s magic wasn’t all I’d hoped it would be,” Hook said before the Professor came into the sheriff’s station, holding one of the record books.

“We’ve combed through every last book,” the Professor said, walking over to the closest desk and placing the book on the surface. “The name that this Snow Queen has been using here doesn’t show up in any record. Which means Sarah Fisher is a ghost.”

“What does that mean?” Emma asked.

“That she never came here by any curse. The Dark Curse created fake records for everyone that it brought over. So if she did come by the Curse, her name would be here.” He pointed to the book. “But it’s not.”

“Then how did she get here?” Emma asked. “And what the hell does she want with me?”

[timelordhonour]

Unexpected Arrivals

A small excerpt from one of my crossover fanfictions, between the two shows, Doctor Who and Once Upon a Time.

story link

The next day, the Professor and Clara were in the back room of the pawnshop when they heard the front door open and the bell jingle. They walked into the front, Clara holding Ellie, where they saw the Doctor coming towards them.

“Dad,” the Professor began. “Why are you here?”

“I thought I’d be the first to tell you the great news,” the Doctor began. “In times like these, that’s what we need. Great news.”

“What great news?” Clara asked. What was the Doctor on about?

“I was just at the hospital, with David and Mary Margaret. And the others. They’ve just given birth to a son,” the Doctor told them. “A new royal in Storybrooke.”

“That is great news,” the Professor agreed. “I suppose they’d be happy.”

The Doctor nodded as he approached them. “Can I…?” he asked, pointing to Ellie.

“Of course,” Clara said as she handed Ellie to her grandfather. “She should spend some time with all her family, after all.”

The Doctor rocked Ellie in his arms before they heard a noise coming from the back room. A familiar sound. The sound of ancient engines grinding their way to a stop.

The Professor looked at Clara. “The TARDIS?” he asked.

“Oh, silly old me. I must have left the HADS on again,” the Doctor said as the Professor and Clara walked towards the back room. Standing at the door, they saw the TARDIS standing in the middle of the room before the doors opened and the Doctor exited.

“Dad?” the Professor asked. “What’s going on?” Clara asked. “I’m here to pick you up,” the Doctor said. “Take you to the hospital. The others are already there.”

“We know. Snow and Charming gave birth,” the Professor stated. “You just told us. In the other room.”

The Doctor eyed the door, then back at his son and Clara. “I don’t think I have,” he said. Maybe it was his future self? He strode past them and walked into the shop front, the Professor and Clara following before he saw it. There was no other Doctor there. Instead was Zelena, holding Ellie.

Zelena smirked. “I could have just disappeared,” she said. “But where’s the fun in that? I just had to gloat over how easy it was to fool a couple of amateur Time Lords.” She then chuckled at them.

Clara raced forward. “You give her back,” she exclaimed. “You give her back to me this instant.”

Zelena waved her finger at her. “Uh-uh. Make any sudden movements, and I’ll personally make sure that you won’t see your darling little Ellie again.” Clara took a deep breath, then backed away slowly. “Good girl,” she said before disappearing in a cloud of green smoke.

[timelordhonour]

Whispers of the Past

A small excerpt from one of my crossover fan fictions, between the two shows, Doctor Who and Once Upon a Time and Doctor Who.

story link

Back in the alley, the woman looked out from her hiding spot. There was no one there. Good. Time to come out and look around again. She walked forward until she heard something close by. Someone rummaging. She approached where she had listened to the noise and saw a figure rummaging through some bins. Was he always there? She walked over, looking at this odd man, who wore a tatty brown outfit. The Doctor stopped what he was doing and looked at the blonde woman. He tilted his head. “Bitey,” he said. “Bitey?” the woman asked. “The air,” the Doctor said. “It’s bitey. Wet, cold and bitey.” “The cold never bothered me,” the woman said. “I need decent clothes. That’s what I need. A big, long scarf? No, no. Move on from that. Looked stupid.” The Doctor looked over at the woman again. “Have you seen this face?” he asked, pointing to his own face. The woman looked over at him. “No. I’m … I’m new here. I haven’t seen that face anywhere.” The Doctor nodded slightly. “It’s funny because I’m sure that I have. You know I never know where they come from, the faces. They just pop up. Zap! Faces like this one. Come on, look at it. Have a look, come on, look, look, look.” The Doctor pulled the woman over to where he had seen a broken mirror propped up against a wall. He stared at it with the woman. “It’s covered in lines, look at it – but I didn’t do the frowning. Who frowned me this face? Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror and think, I’ve seen that face before?” “Yes,” the woman answered. The Doctor looked at her. “Really? When?” “Every time I look in the mirror.” “Yes. Fair enough. Good point.” He looked back at the mirror. “My face is fresh on, though. Why this one? Why did I choose this face? It’s like I’m trying to tell myself something. Like I’m trying to make a point. But what is so important I can’t just tell myself what I’m thinking?” He took a look over at the blonde. “I’m not just rhetorical here. You can join in.” The woman stared back at the Doctor and backed away slowly. “I don’t like it.” “What?” “Your face.” Him. “Well, I don’t like it, either. Well, it’s all right up to the eyebrows, and then it just goes haywire. Look at the eyebrows! They’re attack eyebrows. You could take bottle tops off with these!” The woman stared back at him. This man was absolutely mad. “They do look mighty, though.” “They’re cross! They’re crosser than the rest of my face. They’re independently cross. They probably want to cede from the rest of my face and set up their own independent state of eyebrows.” The Doctor stopped suddenly after hearing his own voice. “Oh, that’s Scots … I’m Scot’s … I’ve gone a bit Scottish, haven’t I?” “Scottish?” the woman asked. “Is that good?” “Oh, that’s good. It’d good I’m Scottish. I’m Scottish. I can complain about things. I can really complain about things now.” He stopped, and he looked around. “Wait, shut up. Shut up! I missed something. It was here, it was here.” The Doctor went back to one of the bins, and he pulled out a scrap of newspaper. “I was investigating. I was cold, then I saw this.” He unfurled the paper and flattened it out—a newspaper article. The headline read ‘Mr Gold to Marry Belle French’, written by Beatrice Foxcroft. “The wedding …” The woman, however, was focused on the picture of Mr Gold and Belle. But, not on the couple. But on an object that was located on the counter in front of them. A necklace. She stared at it. “What is this?” she asked. “I don’t know. But I’d probably blame the English. Come on. We’ve got places to be.”