Round One Reviews, Part Nine
Today's Featured Stories Include:
Afthermaths by Kaethel Link goes to Teaspoon
Characters: Rose, Doctor, et al
Rating: Adult
Details: one-shot, Rose's POV (first-person), post-JE
Why It Rocks:
There is always a morning after, when you've just opened your eyes, and have to face not only the day to come, but the night before. Most mornings, we don't notice this process, but there are nine mornings in which Rose Tyler can't think of anything but - and it's these nine mornings that Kaethel shows us, while at the same time showing us the emotional evolution of Rose.
On the surface, it's actually closer to a sexual education - after all, every morning deals with what happened to Rose the night before, and in each case, she's been with someone. We start off with Jimmy, then Mickey, then Nine. But it's not so much about the sex that came before (or during, in a few cases). It's more about Rose become more aware of herself, of her surroundings, of the man she's with at that time.
And that's pretty much how it goes: Rose, like anyone, starts off curious and contemplative. Sex isn't just about love for her, not yet - it's a hurdle of sorts. Says Rose, on the first morning, after her first experience with Jimmy: I’m on the other side of the fence now. Pride mingles with disappointment, and I’m not sure I like the feeling. One wonders if Rose went this way less because she liked Jimmy, or more because she just wanted to emulate her mate Shireen.
As Rose moves through the mornings (Mickey = comfort, changing friendship into something more; Nine = uncertainty and desire for more; Nine again = joy and excitement with being new), she gradually learns a few things, not just about herself, but about the men she's with. Jimmy said he loved her, but the words were meaningless. Mickey never said it, but showed it through actions. Nine pulls and pushes her away in turns, needing both her and his solitude. Ten flits through, holding her close and keeping her near, delighting in her every move.
With every morning, Rose becomes more and more committed, both to her love for the Doctor, but also to what she wants. (Essentially, more mornings.)
Rose, on Ten: His touch is more tender, infused by a new gravity I didn’t expect from him. It should make me feel safer. Instead, I’ve never been more scared of losing him.
I hold onto him as he joins our bodies once more. Whatever storm is approaching can’t hit us.
Ah, Rose. Famous last words. Because the next morning, it's not the Doctor in your bed, in a parallel world. Ironic, isn't it - just when you figure out what you want, it slips from your fingers. And so it has gone with Rose, that having found her Doctor, known what she wanted in the night: she has to face mornings without him.
Fear not, however - it's always darkest before the dawn. (And I expect you're all groaning like mad for that pun.....)
In short, vote for Afterwards. It's nine complete mornings from steadily maturing points of view. It's got the right amount of sweet to sexy, tea and quilts and a little bit of Jack for good measure. It's dark and bright and entirely appropriate. It very much deserves your vote.
*
Don't Ask, Don't Tell by wendymr
Characters: Eight, Nine, Rose, Jackie
Rating: PG
Details: three-part story, some timey-whimey bits
Why It Rocks:
One of the interesting things about time travel is the ability to send yourself a message, whether or not you know you're doing it. What was Bad Wolf, after all, if not one gigantic timey-whimey Post-It note?
In Don't Ask, Don't Tell, Wendy has essentially given us Rose Tyler as a Post-It Note. Due to a random time anomaly, Rose has somehow shifted back five years, and found herself with Eight, and not Nine. Under any other circumstance, this would probably completely freak Rose out (or turn entirely smutty). Under Wendy's careful guidance, however, it turns reflective.
This Doctor’s planet still exists. His people are still alive...If he knew, or even suspected, what he will lose in his future... would he make the most of his present?
This is, essentially, a story about taking chances, and how losing what's important changes everything. We see the Doctor when he thinks he's lost Rose, and his normally gruff exterior becomes more and more frantic. (He even calls on Jackie for help - and if that's not desperate, I don't know what is.)
Rose, on the other hand, sees the Doctor what he was like before he lost Gallifrey, and it's a marked change from the Doctor she knows.
This Doctor has none of the sadness she sees in her Doctor’s eyes almost every time she looks at him. There’s a sunny lightness about him, so different from the submerged grief she sees in her own Doctor almost all the time now, even if he does hate to acknowledge it; he detests people feeling sorry for him. Yet a few years from now - how many, she has no idea - this Doctor is going to be that devastated, grieving man.
What's worse, is that Rose, able to see the Doctor before his loss, becomes aware of what the loss of her will do to him. And it does, a little, even if he won't admit it:
...that’s stupid thinking, and he’s supposed to be above that. Logical, rational, a genius. Not at all prone to emotional flights of fancy. That’s for humans.
Of course, half a minute later, he's about to snap at Jackie to stop stalling and start phoning all of Rose's friends, impatient for their search to start. Not emotional, him, not one bit. Suuuuuure.
The Doctor, as he has been changed by loss once, is being changed by loss once again. Even having found Rose again at the end, as he does, he can't quite go back to the same man he was before she slipped through time to see him before. Neither can Rose see him again in quite the same light - she's got the memory now of the Doctor in a happier time. There's little doubt that the Doctor will be so quick to risk losing Rose again now; there's little chance that Rose will let him.
In short, vote for Don't Ask Don't Tell. It's a message from the future to the past (and vice verse), it's got Eight being cheerful and Nine being grumpy, it's got Jackie making tea and Rose making friends. It's got random references to Robin Williams and the best MacGuffin of a time anomaly ever. It absolutely deserves your vote.
*
Contagious by shining_moment
Characters: Doctor, Donna
Rating: PG
Details: vaguely Doctor/Donna, but not overly so; one-shot; fluff
Why It Rocks:
It's not actually possible to do an in-depth literary analysis of fluff. At least, I'm fairly sure of this point. But then, I didn't think I could do an in-depth analysis of a 400-word fic either, and I managed that, so here we go.
The Doctor is sick. Worse, he caught the cold from Donna, so now they're both sick. And in true sibling fashion, they're squabbling.
Says the Doctor to Donna: "If I had to catch these nasty stinking snot germs from anyone, I’m glad it was you.”
“Bloody hell, you don’t half know how to give a girl a compliment.”
“Well, I have had a few centuries of practice.”
“I think you could still use a few more.”
Just as they do normally, however, everything that the Doctor and Donna do, they do together: have a cold, fight over the duvet, and march off to the kitchen to fetch each other hot lemon drinks. (Mmm, hot lemon drinks when you're sick....) Even in the end of this very short, very fluffy, no-point-to-it-whatsoever fic, the Doctor and Donna are still together, watching a film they've watched a thousand times before, with the Doctor promising not to sing along so loudly. They might be sick, and exhausted, and they might resemble a swamp monster wrapped in a blanket as they shuffle down the TARDIS corridor, but they're still doing it together.
Hmm. Maybe there's a point after all.
In short, vote for Contagious. It has a swamp monster, random references to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and mentions one of the best cold remedies known to man. It's got Donna being snarky and the Doctor being hyper, and it's sweetly funny. It will not get you sick, or make you wish you were. It very much deserves your vote.
*
That Quiet Part by dave7 Link goes to his fic journal
Characters: Ten, Rose
Rating: PG
Detail: AU pre-JE, one-shot
Why It Rocks:
Because it's quiet.
No, really. The title matches the fic, absolutely perfectly. Which I realize is an odd way to start a review, but that's really what I'm thinking, when I type out the "Why It Rocks" bit.
That Quiet Part is about the Doctor's feelings for Rose - the three words that we never actually hear him say, but we know are there anyway. They're quiet words, in a quiet fic, about a man who is most decidedly not quiet.
And yet - the story is quiet. (Mind, this could be because I have an extremely loud cat sitting on the desk demanding dinner, so in comparison, there's a lot that's quiet.)
Some part of his mind, distant and quiet and not preoccupied with saving them, is heavy with all his unfulfilled promises.
It's true, too, when you think about it. The Doctor is not concerned so much with telling Rose what she wants to hear - he's too busy telling her what she needs to know, what is important right then. The bits and pieces about how they feel - that's not necessary. It's understood, maybe, but never actually said. It's the undercurrent to their relationship, the part they don't focus on because there's too much on the surface that's interesting.
And so this quiet part, the simplicity of three short words, never gets center stage. Again, and again - like a chore no one wants to do, the Doctor decides to put it off, under the guise of trying to find the perfect time. Not when they're about to die. Not when they're exploring a new world. Not when they've just made love (because that's too pedestrian).
And not when she's crying, either.
No, it really shouldn’t, he thinks, but it’s that quiet part of him, the always-there and constantly-ignored part that has decided, quite suddenly, it’s going to be not-so-quiet after all.
Not a small part any more, that part, loud and burning and reminding him of every time he bent to tie his shoe, of every time he tugged on her hand and they’d run for their lives.
And of course he procrastinates, yet again - ah, irony of a Time Lord who runs out of Time. And he'll never get another chance, no matter how not-quiet that quiet part is.
(But then, this is AU, now isn't it?)
In short, vote for That Quiet Part. It's quiet in a completely unquiet way. It's fluff and angst and joy and sorrow all mixed in one, it's got reflection and procrastination, and just a tiny bit of self-recrimination. It's an absolute delight to read, and totally, unquietly, deserves your vote.
*
More than an Echo by samfeasor Link goes to Teaspoon
Characters: Jenny
Rating: PG
Details: a series of one-shots, all centering on Jenny's first journeys in the world
Why It Rocks:
The introduction of Jenny into Doctor Who was an odd one. The idea that the Doctor wasn't alone any longer - that he had a daughter, even if he didn't still know it - was something comforting. And if nothing else, the fact that Jenny exists was taken with a lot more goodwill than was River Song's introduction.
But as for how most of us feel about Jenny, I think we all tend to border on, "Well, she seems interesting enough, but whatever."
This series of stories will make you like Jenny. No, scratch that. They'll make you love her.
When Jenny sets off from Messaline, she's barely a day old. She's a kid, and she has the world at her fingertips. She's excited and adventurous and headstrong and stubborn and absolutely ready for anything that comes her way.
She also doesn't have a clue about where she's going, why she shouldn't go there, what she'll do once she gets there, or how she'll get out of the trouble she's sure to find herself in.
(Sound like anyone familiar?)
But like the tin says, Jenny isn't just an echo of her father. How can she be? She doesn't quite know who he is, really.
...he seemed like the sort to remember everything and to think that the remembering of everything was terribly important, even if the things you were remembering weren't.
Wait, did he seem like that or did she just think he seemed like that? Sometimes when Jenny dreamed she saw her father in very different ways than she had known him. Besides, she hadn't known him very long. Maybe she just was putting characteristics onto him that she thought he ought to have.
And so Jenny dives into traveling, trying to find the next place, always thinking about her dad, and Donna, and Martha, and missing them desperately. She tries to live the life of which her father might approve, because someday when she meets him again - and she's utterly convinced she will - she'll want him to be proud.
In the meantime, she learns about the world. It's a bit like watching a baby take their first steps, or a child at their first day of school, rationalizing whether or not to have the white or chocolate milk.
There's a complicated mathematical formula that she's developed to help her select the next place she'll visit. She listens to the short band radio and counts the number of references to some sort of war, fighting, or aggressive spectator sport. Then she checks her fuel gauge, her food rations, and the amount of time since she's purchased new socks. After plugging those numbers into her formula, she grins, closes her eyes, and drops her finger totally randomly onto the chart. Then she goes to the planet in between her random choice and her mathematical one.
And it's a fascinating world - both small and large at the same time. Jenny moves through planets quickly, bemoaning when she spends longer than a few days on any one of them. She writes letters to her father and to Donna, and keeps a journal given to her by an unnamed woman she meets when she's 42 days old. (Three guesses who the woman is. I won't tell you, though - spoilers.) She stumbles through first love, spins through her first dance, and triumphs over her first fear.
She's brilliant, in absolutely every way that could ever matter. And the fact that she goes through her life, desperate to meet her father again - and no sign of him, really, that ever appears, save an all-too-short letter, and a chunk of the TARDIS on her nightstand. She's got a promise from others that she'll see him again, and you end the series, hoping desperately that he'll keep it.
In short, vote for More Than an Echo. It's gorgeous and heartfelt and funny and sweet. It brings to life a character we met only briefly, and it gives her a whole world of her own in which to play. It'll keep you guessing and grinning until the very last moment. It's probably the best Jenny-fic I've read ever. And it's absolutely, 100% worth your vote.
*
Today's reviews were all written by azriona.
Afthermaths by Kaethel Link goes to Teaspoon
Characters: Rose, Doctor, et al
Rating: Adult
Details: one-shot, Rose's POV (first-person), post-JE
Why It Rocks:
There is always a morning after, when you've just opened your eyes, and have to face not only the day to come, but the night before. Most mornings, we don't notice this process, but there are nine mornings in which Rose Tyler can't think of anything but - and it's these nine mornings that Kaethel shows us, while at the same time showing us the emotional evolution of Rose.
On the surface, it's actually closer to a sexual education - after all, every morning deals with what happened to Rose the night before, and in each case, she's been with someone. We start off with Jimmy, then Mickey, then Nine. But it's not so much about the sex that came before (or during, in a few cases). It's more about Rose become more aware of herself, of her surroundings, of the man she's with at that time.
And that's pretty much how it goes: Rose, like anyone, starts off curious and contemplative. Sex isn't just about love for her, not yet - it's a hurdle of sorts. Says Rose, on the first morning, after her first experience with Jimmy: I’m on the other side of the fence now. Pride mingles with disappointment, and I’m not sure I like the feeling. One wonders if Rose went this way less because she liked Jimmy, or more because she just wanted to emulate her mate Shireen.
As Rose moves through the mornings (Mickey = comfort, changing friendship into something more; Nine = uncertainty and desire for more; Nine again = joy and excitement with being new), she gradually learns a few things, not just about herself, but about the men she's with. Jimmy said he loved her, but the words were meaningless. Mickey never said it, but showed it through actions. Nine pulls and pushes her away in turns, needing both her and his solitude. Ten flits through, holding her close and keeping her near, delighting in her every move.
With every morning, Rose becomes more and more committed, both to her love for the Doctor, but also to what she wants. (Essentially, more mornings.)
Rose, on Ten: His touch is more tender, infused by a new gravity I didn’t expect from him. It should make me feel safer. Instead, I’ve never been more scared of losing him.
I hold onto him as he joins our bodies once more. Whatever storm is approaching can’t hit us.
Ah, Rose. Famous last words. Because the next morning, it's not the Doctor in your bed, in a parallel world. Ironic, isn't it - just when you figure out what you want, it slips from your fingers. And so it has gone with Rose, that having found her Doctor, known what she wanted in the night: she has to face mornings without him.
Fear not, however - it's always darkest before the dawn. (And I expect you're all groaning like mad for that pun.....)
In short, vote for Afterwards. It's nine complete mornings from steadily maturing points of view. It's got the right amount of sweet to sexy, tea and quilts and a little bit of Jack for good measure. It's dark and bright and entirely appropriate. It very much deserves your vote.
*
Don't Ask, Don't Tell by wendymr
Characters: Eight, Nine, Rose, Jackie
Rating: PG
Details: three-part story, some timey-whimey bits
Why It Rocks:
One of the interesting things about time travel is the ability to send yourself a message, whether or not you know you're doing it. What was Bad Wolf, after all, if not one gigantic timey-whimey Post-It note?
In Don't Ask, Don't Tell, Wendy has essentially given us Rose Tyler as a Post-It Note. Due to a random time anomaly, Rose has somehow shifted back five years, and found herself with Eight, and not Nine. Under any other circumstance, this would probably completely freak Rose out (or turn entirely smutty). Under Wendy's careful guidance, however, it turns reflective.
This Doctor’s planet still exists. His people are still alive...If he knew, or even suspected, what he will lose in his future... would he make the most of his present?
This is, essentially, a story about taking chances, and how losing what's important changes everything. We see the Doctor when he thinks he's lost Rose, and his normally gruff exterior becomes more and more frantic. (He even calls on Jackie for help - and if that's not desperate, I don't know what is.)
Rose, on the other hand, sees the Doctor what he was like before he lost Gallifrey, and it's a marked change from the Doctor she knows.
This Doctor has none of the sadness she sees in her Doctor’s eyes almost every time she looks at him. There’s a sunny lightness about him, so different from the submerged grief she sees in her own Doctor almost all the time now, even if he does hate to acknowledge it; he detests people feeling sorry for him. Yet a few years from now - how many, she has no idea - this Doctor is going to be that devastated, grieving man.
What's worse, is that Rose, able to see the Doctor before his loss, becomes aware of what the loss of her will do to him. And it does, a little, even if he won't admit it:
...that’s stupid thinking, and he’s supposed to be above that. Logical, rational, a genius. Not at all prone to emotional flights of fancy. That’s for humans.
Of course, half a minute later, he's about to snap at Jackie to stop stalling and start phoning all of Rose's friends, impatient for their search to start. Not emotional, him, not one bit. Suuuuuure.
The Doctor, as he has been changed by loss once, is being changed by loss once again. Even having found Rose again at the end, as he does, he can't quite go back to the same man he was before she slipped through time to see him before. Neither can Rose see him again in quite the same light - she's got the memory now of the Doctor in a happier time. There's little doubt that the Doctor will be so quick to risk losing Rose again now; there's little chance that Rose will let him.
In short, vote for Don't Ask Don't Tell. It's a message from the future to the past (and vice verse), it's got Eight being cheerful and Nine being grumpy, it's got Jackie making tea and Rose making friends. It's got random references to Robin Williams and the best MacGuffin of a time anomaly ever. It absolutely deserves your vote.
*
Contagious by shining_moment
Characters: Doctor, Donna
Rating: PG
Details: vaguely Doctor/Donna, but not overly so; one-shot; fluff
Why It Rocks:
It's not actually possible to do an in-depth literary analysis of fluff. At least, I'm fairly sure of this point. But then, I didn't think I could do an in-depth analysis of a 400-word fic either, and I managed that, so here we go.
The Doctor is sick. Worse, he caught the cold from Donna, so now they're both sick. And in true sibling fashion, they're squabbling.
Says the Doctor to Donna: "If I had to catch these nasty stinking snot germs from anyone, I’m glad it was you.”
“Bloody hell, you don’t half know how to give a girl a compliment.”
“Well, I have had a few centuries of practice.”
“I think you could still use a few more.”
Just as they do normally, however, everything that the Doctor and Donna do, they do together: have a cold, fight over the duvet, and march off to the kitchen to fetch each other hot lemon drinks. (Mmm, hot lemon drinks when you're sick....) Even in the end of this very short, very fluffy, no-point-to-it-whatsoever fic, the Doctor and Donna are still together, watching a film they've watched a thousand times before, with the Doctor promising not to sing along so loudly. They might be sick, and exhausted, and they might resemble a swamp monster wrapped in a blanket as they shuffle down the TARDIS corridor, but they're still doing it together.
Hmm. Maybe there's a point after all.
In short, vote for Contagious. It has a swamp monster, random references to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and mentions one of the best cold remedies known to man. It's got Donna being snarky and the Doctor being hyper, and it's sweetly funny. It will not get you sick, or make you wish you were. It very much deserves your vote.
*
That Quiet Part by dave7 Link goes to his fic journal
Characters: Ten, Rose
Rating: PG
Detail: AU pre-JE, one-shot
Why It Rocks:
Because it's quiet.
No, really. The title matches the fic, absolutely perfectly. Which I realize is an odd way to start a review, but that's really what I'm thinking, when I type out the "Why It Rocks" bit.
That Quiet Part is about the Doctor's feelings for Rose - the three words that we never actually hear him say, but we know are there anyway. They're quiet words, in a quiet fic, about a man who is most decidedly not quiet.
And yet - the story is quiet. (Mind, this could be because I have an extremely loud cat sitting on the desk demanding dinner, so in comparison, there's a lot that's quiet.)
Some part of his mind, distant and quiet and not preoccupied with saving them, is heavy with all his unfulfilled promises.
It's true, too, when you think about it. The Doctor is not concerned so much with telling Rose what she wants to hear - he's too busy telling her what she needs to know, what is important right then. The bits and pieces about how they feel - that's not necessary. It's understood, maybe, but never actually said. It's the undercurrent to their relationship, the part they don't focus on because there's too much on the surface that's interesting.
And so this quiet part, the simplicity of three short words, never gets center stage. Again, and again - like a chore no one wants to do, the Doctor decides to put it off, under the guise of trying to find the perfect time. Not when they're about to die. Not when they're exploring a new world. Not when they've just made love (because that's too pedestrian).
And not when she's crying, either.
No, it really shouldn’t, he thinks, but it’s that quiet part of him, the always-there and constantly-ignored part that has decided, quite suddenly, it’s going to be not-so-quiet after all.
Not a small part any more, that part, loud and burning and reminding him of every time he bent to tie his shoe, of every time he tugged on her hand and they’d run for their lives.
And of course he procrastinates, yet again - ah, irony of a Time Lord who runs out of Time. And he'll never get another chance, no matter how not-quiet that quiet part is.
(But then, this is AU, now isn't it?)
In short, vote for That Quiet Part. It's quiet in a completely unquiet way. It's fluff and angst and joy and sorrow all mixed in one, it's got reflection and procrastination, and just a tiny bit of self-recrimination. It's an absolute delight to read, and totally, unquietly, deserves your vote.
*
More than an Echo by samfeasor Link goes to Teaspoon
Characters: Jenny
Rating: PG
Details: a series of one-shots, all centering on Jenny's first journeys in the world
Why It Rocks:
The introduction of Jenny into Doctor Who was an odd one. The idea that the Doctor wasn't alone any longer - that he had a daughter, even if he didn't still know it - was something comforting. And if nothing else, the fact that Jenny exists was taken with a lot more goodwill than was River Song's introduction.
But as for how most of us feel about Jenny, I think we all tend to border on, "Well, she seems interesting enough, but whatever."
This series of stories will make you like Jenny. No, scratch that. They'll make you love her.
When Jenny sets off from Messaline, she's barely a day old. She's a kid, and she has the world at her fingertips. She's excited and adventurous and headstrong and stubborn and absolutely ready for anything that comes her way.
She also doesn't have a clue about where she's going, why she shouldn't go there, what she'll do once she gets there, or how she'll get out of the trouble she's sure to find herself in.
(Sound like anyone familiar?)
But like the tin says, Jenny isn't just an echo of her father. How can she be? She doesn't quite know who he is, really.
...he seemed like the sort to remember everything and to think that the remembering of everything was terribly important, even if the things you were remembering weren't.
Wait, did he seem like that or did she just think he seemed like that? Sometimes when Jenny dreamed she saw her father in very different ways than she had known him. Besides, she hadn't known him very long. Maybe she just was putting characteristics onto him that she thought he ought to have.
And so Jenny dives into traveling, trying to find the next place, always thinking about her dad, and Donna, and Martha, and missing them desperately. She tries to live the life of which her father might approve, because someday when she meets him again - and she's utterly convinced she will - she'll want him to be proud.
In the meantime, she learns about the world. It's a bit like watching a baby take their first steps, or a child at their first day of school, rationalizing whether or not to have the white or chocolate milk.
There's a complicated mathematical formula that she's developed to help her select the next place she'll visit. She listens to the short band radio and counts the number of references to some sort of war, fighting, or aggressive spectator sport. Then she checks her fuel gauge, her food rations, and the amount of time since she's purchased new socks. After plugging those numbers into her formula, she grins, closes her eyes, and drops her finger totally randomly onto the chart. Then she goes to the planet in between her random choice and her mathematical one.
And it's a fascinating world - both small and large at the same time. Jenny moves through planets quickly, bemoaning when she spends longer than a few days on any one of them. She writes letters to her father and to Donna, and keeps a journal given to her by an unnamed woman she meets when she's 42 days old. (Three guesses who the woman is. I won't tell you, though - spoilers.) She stumbles through first love, spins through her first dance, and triumphs over her first fear.
She's brilliant, in absolutely every way that could ever matter. And the fact that she goes through her life, desperate to meet her father again - and no sign of him, really, that ever appears, save an all-too-short letter, and a chunk of the TARDIS on her nightstand. She's got a promise from others that she'll see him again, and you end the series, hoping desperately that he'll keep it.
In short, vote for More Than an Echo. It's gorgeous and heartfelt and funny and sweet. It brings to life a character we met only briefly, and it gives her a whole world of her own in which to play. It'll keep you guessing and grinning until the very last moment. It's probably the best Jenny-fic I've read ever. And it's absolutely, 100% worth your vote.
*
Today's reviews were all written by azriona.