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About Varied / Hobbyist Heather MilneFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 10 Years
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“This is exhausting! That guy’s really going to lead us on a chase, isn’t he?”

“Yes, it would seem so. Lucky we’ve got a time machine. It tends to drastically shorten chases.”

Clara rolled her eyes as she followed the Doctor into the TARDIS. They’d gotten themselves involved in yet another mystery, on another planet, and nobody else seemed to be willing or able to help. So of course they’d volunteered… of course. They weren’t anywhere near a solution yet, but things seemed to be at a bit of a stalemate for now.

“Unfortunately, I’ve got to go work on one of my more…” Clara interrupted herself with a long yawn, “…Boring human habits.”

“What’s that?”


“Ah. Yes, I had noticed your under-eyes were starting to get a bit dark.”

A pained expression crossed Clara’s face, and she sighed deeply. She patted the Doctor on his shoulder as she passed him, headed to her room. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

Turning back towards the console, the Doctor set up a few more scans for the current baddie they’d been tracking. The TARDIS beeped, indicating she’d found something a bit quicker than expected. The Doctor caught himself halfway through raising his arm, about to shout for Clara to come back. No, he thought, better let her get some rest, so she’ll be ready when this particular adventure reaches its showdown.

If he’d been honest with himself, he’d have admitted he just didn’t particularly want to deal with a cross Clara. He wasn’t completely sure, but he suspected she had been subtly trying to give him hints that he was really getting on her nerves lately. More than usual. He’d tried explaining to her that subtle wasn’t really his thing this time around, but Clara just couldn’t seem to break the habit. The Doctor still wasn’t positive she was even really seeing him yet, despite what she claimed.

The TARDIS thumped down on a small planet the Doctor had never heard of, given the readings on the scanner. He’d probably come across it in some chart somewhere but ignored it, due to it being smack in the middle of a galaxy known for its cheesy tourist traps. He straightened his coat, and headed for the doors.

He stepped out into a small lobby. It was somewhat deceptive—parts of it looked older than others, with paint peeling off walls, but barely cured on the trim, some display setups so new they still had packaging on them, and a quarter inch of dust on others. The air, in general, smelled old. This was an obviously forgotten place, and even time seemed not to want to settle easily here.

The Doctor passed the front desk, and walked through to the galley room behind it. Rows upon rows of display cases lined walls without shelves, right on up to and including the high ceiling. Each case varied greatly in age and wear. Some looked like they’d been set up yesterday. Others were so cracked and faded it was impossible to see inside them. Inside every case was a hat.

Hats. Everywhere. From every time period and almost every galaxy. It was enough to boggle even a Time Lord’s brain.

“Of course. A hat museum. It’s not quite an entire planet but, oh, Donna would’ve loved—“

The Doctor closed his eyes for a moment. Just a moment. But one of those many cruel “curse of a Time Lord” gifts turned that moment into virtual days inside his head, reliving a specific set of memories he’d tried to lock away as best he could. He could feel Donna, inside his head, whapping him on the face with her bag and giving him grief for not having brought her here. He deserved it.


Reluctantly returning to the present, the Doctor noticed a slight alteration to the apparently random pattern of display cases. He strode to the back corner of the room, and ran his hands around a particularly small case, confirming his suspicion. The case turned, opening a door into a hidden office.

This area had been used much more recently than the rest of the establishment. Papers and supplies and a few scattered hats littered a large desk in the middle of the room. A shiny black calling card lay conspicuously on the seat of a fancy chair, and the Doctor scooped it up. He didn’t have to bother reading it to know it was the next clue he was looking for. He headed back towards the TARDIS, eager to leave any place that could forcefully bring up guilty memories.

Something stopped the Doctor as he reached for the door handle.

He’d seen it on the way in.

He’d made himself, rather convincingly, pretend to ignore it.

Now, it beckoned him.
Called to him.
Grew imaginary hands that formed that ridiculous come hither gesture at him.

He was so much more mature than this. He didn’t need it. Clara would poke fun at him. A guilty expression crossed his face, he groaned slightly, and turned to give in to the temptation anyway. He’d pay for it, he knew, just like everything else he ever did.

Clara was headed back to her room, clutching a cup of tea, when the Doctor stepped back inside the TARDIS.

Both froze the moment they spotted each other. Clara nearly dropped her tea. The Doctor’s expression flipped between utter embarrassment and a slight tinge of something like hope. Clara set her tea down on the console, and slowly walked towards him, her eyes impossibly wide.

“I… I saw it, and I thought, well… maybe you might… you might like it,” he stammered. “W-w-why are you malfunctioning, Clara?”

“Because of you. Because of that,” she said softly, gesturing with her eyes to the bright red fez atop the Doctor’s head. Tears flowed freely down her face, but she wore a gentle smile. She placed her hands on his chest, slightly calming the beat of his twin hearts.

This Doctor might not be the hugging type, but he did bring his own hands up to cover Clara’s. Maybe, just maybe, she was finally beginning to see him again. Maybe, it was going to be alright. His face relaxed, and he couldn’t prevent the faint smile that followed.
Never Gonna Happen
In which the Doctor *still* cannot "just walk past a fez."


I'm not 100% thrilled with how this turned out, but this is one of those times I don't think I'm really too concerned about it. I haven't written much in a while, so this was mostly just kind of a little exercise in getting a couple scenes out of my head.
The first time he notices it, they’re curled up on opposite ends of the sofa one crisp autumn evening, each engrossed in a book. The Doctor had taken a moment to look up from his, simply admiring how comfortable and happy Rose appeared, and smiled in spite of himself.

“You didn’t tell me you’d learned French.”

“What?” Rose lifted only her eyes over the cover of her novel, trying to hide being slightly startled.

“You’re reading an original copy of ‘Angélique’ in French. I can guarantee you there’s plenty of differences in the translation alone, not even counting that it was written in this universe.”

Rose’s eyebrows dropped, and she gave him a sly grin. “Don’t go giving me spoilers now, I’m almost halfway through it.” She playfully hit the Doctor’s shoulder with the well-worn edge of the book.

“I’m more interested in how you became fluent enough in French so quickly that you consider that a bit of a casual read.” He’d pulled his glasses off and set his own book aside at this point, indicating this conversation was about to get far more interesting than anything he’d possibly been reading.

“Well that’s probably just the… the TARDIS…” she stumbled with her words, the reality hitting her suddenly. “No, wait, you’re right. No, I haven’t learned French. And if all the gaps between the universes are closed, the TARDIS probably can’t translate for me, can it?”

“Rose, the TARDIS wouldn’t be able to translate for you even if there were still gaps. The translation circuit does tend to stay connected for some people, even across vast distances in time and space, but not across the Void.”

The Doctor’s eyes bore into hers, and Rose knew he was deeply concerned. Instead of launching into the search for an explanation, he offered his hand to pull her to him and, books forgotten, she adjusted her position so that she was leaning her back against his chest. He reached around to pull a throw off the back of the sofa, spread it across their laps, and held her in his arms. They stayed still for several minutes, in shared unspoken mourning for the loss of the time ship, before Rose spoke.

“You told me about the TARDIS translatin’ inside my head back on Platform One, and I never even thought about it after that. Well, not until you regenerated. It stopped working until you woke up, on the Sycorax ship.”

The Doctor let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, and lightly stroked his fingers down Rose’s arm. “That makes sense. That was a tough regeneration, and I wasn’t telepathically linked very well with the TARDIS during that time. I can easily see the translation circuit failing because of that. It was probably knocked out well before the Sycorax picked us up, but you didn’t notice it because you didn’t need anything to be translated.”

“Right. But it’s been workin’ ever since. Even when I first got here, after Canary Warf. Like when I met you on the beach to…” Rose’s voice hitched, and she stopped. The Doctor hugged her a little closer and pressed a long kiss onto the top of her head. She gave a shuddering sigh before continuing.

“Anyway, I knew it was called Bad Wolf Bay. I didn’t look it up or anything, nobody told me, I just read the signs on the way there. I didn’t even think about it being translated until a week later. It just sort of… came out of nowhere, like it hit me that I just took it for granted for so long, and I didn’t even realize it.”

“You were getting translations here before then?”

“Yeah. Always have. I don’t even notice it unless someone points it out to me.”

“Hmm. I could maybe see the TARDIS pushing a bit to help you get to Bad Wolf Bay. We stretched that last gap as far as we could get away with it. Still doesn’t make very much sense beyond that day though, backwards or forwards. There’s certainly no way the circuit should still be working for you on this side now. Everything’s 100% closed. Even I can’t feel her anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

The Doctor said nothing, just resumed gently stroking her arm. After a few moments, Rose shifted so that she could face him.

“It kept me going, once I figured it out. That’s how we got started with the Dimension Canon.”

“How do you mean?”

“When I realized I was still gettin’ translations. I figured if that still worked, then there had to be enough of an opening or something, some way for me to get back and find you. Everyone else thought it was crazy, but Mickey helped me explain it to Mum and Dad so we could get started on it.”

“Mickey was getting translations as well?”

“Well I ‘ssumed he was. I mean we never talked about it, he never actually said.” Rose stared into the Doctor’s eyes, darting between them as her own widened. She watched him slowly raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t think he did, do you?”

“I think… he might have brought it up in conversation, if that were the case.”

Giving in to her loss for words, Rose leaned sideways to rest on the Doctor’s chest again, and he pulled the throw up higher around them. “I believe, Rose Tyler, the TARDIS gave you a gift that just keeps on giving.”

It took her a moment to catch on to what he was implying. She hadn’t thought about it in—well, not in years now. It simply hadn’t come up.

“Bad Wolf?”

“Bad Wolf.”


The next time the Doctor notices Rose’s lingering connection with the TARDIS is when it falters, a few weeks later. Rose insisted on finishing the last chapter of her book in bed, while the Doctor dozed off beside her. He couldn’t quite get that last bit of the way into actual sleep for some reason, and he knew it wasn’t the reading light that was bothering him. Suddenly Rose let out a frightened yelp, and threw her book across the room as if it had physically shocked her. The Doctor snapped out of his already disturbed half-slumber, sitting up immediately.

“It’s French. That book is really, properly French! I can’t read it.”

The look of fear in Rose’s eyes told him all he needed to know, confirming his suspicions. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his own concern.

“He’s in trouble.”

“And there’s nothing we can do, is there? We can’t help ‘im.” Rose’s voice was already cracking, nearing tears.

The Doctor shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. He hadn’t felt any connection to the other Doctor since the breach was closed, but he instinctively knew that the situation must be dire. His worry over Rose being affected so intensely drowned out anything he may or may not have gotten from his double.

Rose sobbed openly for several minutes as the Doctor gently rocked her, letting her release the grief and frustration. They laid down together, and Rose fell asleep almost instantly in his arms. Link or no, the Doctor felt a bit too on edge to rest. This was one night he was thankful he still needed less sleep than regular humans.


The third time, they’re on holiday in France, celebrating their anniversary.

Rose had convinced him, quite easily, that they try to have a good time actually doing the “touristy” things for once. She and the Doctor took in a few shows, ate at some highly recommended restaurants, and had a fairly posh hotel room with a view of the Eiffel Tower from their balcony. They’d just finished a light lunch and began to stroll through a nearby park, when Rose and the Doctor were both instantly struck with the mental equivalent of being stabbed with a knife.

The Doctor was more shocked than anything, but Rose was clearly in agony. The Doctor grabbed her arms to support her in case she fell, and they half staggered to the nearest bench they could find. Rose was desperately clutching both the Doctor’s hand, and her own head. She was practically hyperventilating now.

“It’s the TARDIS—the Doctor—something’s wrong, something’s really wrong…”

“I know, Rose, I know. I can feel it, too.” The Doctor was obviously shaken, and couldn’t help his own trembling as he gathered Rose into his arms. He felt like there was a strained echo in the back of his mind, screaming for help that wasn’t coming, because the voice wasn’t loud enough, wasn’t quite tangible. It was both strangely familiar and extremely unnerving at the same time.

Rose looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. “But I thought you couldn’t anymore. You said you lost the connection, it was just me an’ Bad Wolf.”

“I thought so, too,” the Doctor said shakily, drawing in his breath. “This is different, though. I know this feeling. I know it far more than I care to admit. It’s not just the TARDIS.” He choked on a few sobs, and stroked Rose’s hair before he continued.

He’s regenerating.
The Lingering Wolf
A few scenes exploring Rose's connection to the Bad Wolf in Pete's World.

This turned out a good deal more angsty than I originally planned, but I decided to run with it and see what happened. Not all stories have a happy ending.
This was a Fixed Point. He knew that. He didn’t have to read the history books, or even know anything about the events surrounding it, because he could literally feel it. The atmosphere was different at Fixed Points, like the unnerving tingling of static on skin during a lightning storm. The air itself became activated by Time, and everything in its vicinity stayed in constant motion with the single goal of keeping the Point on track. It could be temporarily overlooked in the heat of a moment, but a Time Lord would know it was there just as easily as anyone else could register whether or not the sun was up. The closer to the climax, the more stubborn Time became, and the more likely it was to aim sparks and shocks at anyone who dared to meddle.

He thought he’d get used to it by now. Wished he would. And on very rare occasions, he was, but only momentarily, only when he had to run on adrenalin to deal with the danger that was causing it in the first place. It never lasted. The pain never really went away, it just dulled a little bit as time went on and more piled on top of it. How involved he actually was or wasn’t didn’t seem to make much difference.

Fire and debris surround him, both outside and in. Pieces of spaceship and memories of friends. Parts of a habitat base and stories upon stories of those hopelessly lost. Planets and people, his and others—countless others—that he couldn’t save for one reason or another, all crammed inside his head, all screaming along with his own inner voice, until he couldn’t take it any longer.

Something is different this time. Something has changed. His eyes watch the flames as his mind begins to collapse in on itself, like a black hole, almost impossibly far beyond the point of no return.

“I’m not just a Time Lord. I’m the last of the Time Lords…
They’ll never come back, not now…
I’ve got the TARDIS. Same old life, last of the Time Lords…
Then they died and took it all with them…
The walls of reality closed, the worlds were sealed, gone forever…
The Time Lords kept their eye on everything, it’s gone now, all of it…
But they died, the Time Lords, all of them, they died!”

He has no hearts to be broken anymore. They’ve been broken one too many times, including right now. This will be the last time that he stands by helpless, watching as death and defeat come to claim their spoils yet again. No—this won’t actually be the last time, because he’s not going to let it finish. This Fixed Point isn’t over, nor is he done with it yet.

Honestly, he’s surprised with himself that it’s taken this long.

All those soulless decisions that never set well with him, the rules that never did anybody any good in the first place, and the cruelty that went along with the so-called policy of “observation” had nobody else left to uphold them. There was no one to govern the Laws of Time. There was also no one to care whether those Laws were upheld, changed, or completely thrown out the window. He was the default now.

“I’m the last of the Time Lords.”

The Doctor feels his skin zip with electricity that practically dances off of him, as he strides back to Bowie Base One. It creates a false force field around his mind, holding the Fixed Point at bay. He doesn’t realize it until it’s far too late.
He Has No Hearts to Be Broken Anymore
A simple study on what went through the Doctor's mind when the switch flipped, and he became Time Lord Victorious during "The Waters of Mars." Written for the WriteWorld Tumblr prompt: "He has no heart to be broken anymore."


Heather Milne
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States

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SmudgeThistle Featured By Owner Jul 31, 2014  Professional
Thank you very much for the favourite on my drawing of the Eighth Doctor, "Alone Amongst the Stars"! :D
Silvolf Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2014  Professional Traditional Artist
Thanks for the :+fav:!
Fonora Featured By Owner Jun 17, 2014   Digital Artist
Thanks for watching! :hug:
fourth-heir Featured By Owner Jun 6, 2014
Hi there - thanks for faving :)
HanBO-Hobbit Featured By Owner Jun 6, 2014  Student Traditional Artist
Thanks for the favourite on my TARDIS butterfly piece!
wherestherain Featured By Owner May 24, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
thanks for the fave :)
SmudgeThistle Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2014  Professional
Thank you very much for the favorite on my drawing of Charley and the Doctor! :D
DegasClover Featured By Owner Mar 17, 2014  Student Traditional Artist
Thank you for the :+fav: on David's 10th Tardis a tiny animation
I really appreciate it  :heart:
theperian Featured By Owner Feb 4, 2014  Professional Traditional Artist
Thank you for adding Doctor Ten to your collection! la with fez request
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