#ladysibyl

[countessselena]

16 February 2022: Happy 58th birthday, Christopher Eccleston! SQUEE! (Swoons) 😍

[chocolatequeennk]

I’m Jewish, but I love A Christmas Carol. If Ten and Rose were involved: 1) It reminds Rose of Cardiff; she suggests doing old Charlie boy proud. 2) ROSE: You didn’t hit the boy. TEN: You shouldn’t [hate Christmas]; it’s very you. ROSE: Halfway out of the dark. 3) Rose understands Abigail’s box numbers and asks if Ten can heal her. 4) KAZRAN: One last day with your beloved. TEN and ROSE: (Remember a white wall) 5) Rose + Marilyn = BFFs 6) Rose and Ten totally have a snowman-building contest.

OMG thank you! I have been toying with using A Christmas Carol as the opener for the next story, and all of this is perfect. I love that special, too, and I think it would work really well with Rose there.

My idea is that the Doctor and Rose pop back into Amy and Rory’s lives just as they’re getting ready to leave on their honeymoon. They ask them to travel with them, and as added incentive offer to book them passage on a space cruise for their honeymoon.

That way, Amy and Rory are still on the ship, giving the story that added edge of urgency. (I know the Doctor would care about saving the people on the ship even if he didn’t know any of them, but the extra tension is good.)

And then when they’re all together back on the planet, the Doctor can offer to take them on a trip to prove that travel with him isn’t always like that. And instead they end up in the next adventure, which is really the first one for the new companions.

[the-knights-who-say-book]

Your stories about Peep are so much a part of my life that whenever someone asks how I feel about something, I have to deliberately stop myself from answering, “Would feel positively, if job comes with chocolate chips.”

That is such a good pure thing to know, i can’t BELIEVE!

[licieoic]

May I revolve some of your Doctor Who and Phantom paintings? If yes, how do I include the links/accreditation? Do I reblog a painting and say “Copyright LicieOIC” and type out your tumblr address?

Is revolve another social media site? If so, it’s not one I use so it’s perfectly fine if you want to repost them as long as credit is given. It can be something like “Credit: LicieOIC on Tumblr” with a link back to the original in case they want to find it here. I post here, on my Patreon, on Waterfall, and on Deviant Art, if you want to find them on other sites.

[emospritelet]

So, as aforesaid, I only know COBRA through gifsets and fanfic, but at some point in Manifesto, I’d like Sutherland to say, “What the actual fuck?”

[AO3]

x

Sutherland glanced up at the sound of a door closing, and sat back in his chair with a sigh, reaching for the glass of whisky to his left and taking a sip. Anna had left him alone since Miss French had stormed out in high dudgeon, but now she was leaning against the door, head tilted slightly as she looked at him.

“It’s almost midnight,” she said. “You should get some rest, we’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“I know. I’ll go up in a minute.”

He put down the glass, running his hands over his face and yawning.

“Any word on tomorrow’s papers?” he asked tiredly. “Or do I not want to know?”

“The Guardian are doing an in-depth piece on the de-funding of libraries and the links to declining social standards in local communities.”

“Of course they bloody are,” he grumbled. “Don’t tell me, library closures have been shown to lead to the complete breakdown of social order, cannibalism and eventual Armageddon.”

“I’m not sure they’re going quite that far,” said Anna, walking over to perch on the edge of the table. “Although give it a week and a few more internet memes…”

Sutherland’s mouth twitched in a half-smile.

“Is Ursula doing the Today interview?” he asked.

“Yes. She’s got everything under control.”

“Glad one of us has,” he muttered. “Maybe I should have let her meet with Miss French. Would probably have been more productive.”

“At least you didn’t shout at her,” Anna pointed out. “There’s that.”

“Believe me, I was bloody tempted,” he said, frowning. “The woman clearly despises me, and made no attempt to hide it. I’ve no idea why I let you talk me into seeing her.”

Anna shoved him with her foot.

“I like her,” she said, and Sutherland grunted.

“She’s mouthy, opinionated, and has no respect for authority,” he said.

“Probably why I like her.”

He smiled a little, and turned back to the folder in front of him.

“What’s that?” she asked, leaning in to look over his shoulder. Sutherland sat back with a sigh, flipping through the pages.

“I said I’d take a look,” he said. “It’s research - a proposal that she tried to put to the Council. Was half expecting her to start setting up a bloody PowerPoint presentation.”

“And we both know how you love those.”

He grinned at that, turning a page and tapping a pen absently against the papers as he read..

“Anything interesting in there?” she asked, and he glanced up.

“It’s well-researched,” he admitted. “The wider benefits of a local library and its impact on disadvantaged communities. Some of the connections she’s made may be debatable, but I can’t deny the quality of the source material.”

“Anything we can use?” she asked, and he sighed, sinking back in his chair a little.

“We’re here to push the new defence contract, Anna. It has an economic impact of many billions of pounds and thousands of jobs. This?” He picked up the folder and tossed it back onto the table. “Miniscule.”

“Perhaps,” she acknowledged, “but maybe that makes it easier to consider as part of the wider economic package.”

Sutherland frowned at her.

“Don’t you start in on me as well,” he said. “You know as well as I do that spending on this kind of thing is up to local authorities.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t think about it,” she said. “You said yourself she’d outlined some wider benefits.”

“So?”

“So, include it in the upcoming consultation on community cohesion.”

Sutherland growled under his breath, pushing out of the chair and beginning to pace.

“You think I don’t have enough to do, without coddling every member of the electorate that chooses to go toe-to-toe with me in the street?” he snapped. “I don’t have time for this!”

“No, but maybe Miss French does,” she reasoned. “You could bring her in as a consultant.”

Sutherland whirled to face her.

“A bloody consultant?” he demanded. “She’s a small-town librarian!”

“She has a Master’s from Cambridge,” said Anna patiently. “She’s hardly unqualified. Plus she has first-hand experience of disadvantaged communities. She’ll add some authenticity, and lend you a connection to deprived areas in the north. Which are things you badly need right now, hopelessly out of touch as you are.”

Sutherland stared at her, outraged.

“What the actual fuck, Anna!”

She stifled a giggle.

“Did you just say ‘what the actual fuck’?”

“Isn’t it what all the young people come out with?” he said waspishly, and she smirked. 

“One of many reasons why you should never say it.”

“I bet Miss bloody French says it all the bloody time.”

“Like I said, authenticity,” she said, still grinning. “You can’t deny most of the people helping you make policy are pale, male and stale. Not to mention almost entirely from within the M-25. She’s like a breath of fresh air. No wonder the press love her.”

“Being young, pretty and belligerent doesn’t make her qualified to tell me what to bloody do.”

“So,” said Anna, folding her arms and sounding satisfied. “You do think she’s pretty.”

“I’m hopelessly out of touch, not fucking blind,” he snapped, running a hand over his face in frustration, and she chuckled.

“Okay, but she’s also intelligent,” she said. “She’s articulate, she’s passionate...” 

“She’s idealistic,” he said dismissively. 

“Exactly,” she insisted. “She cares about the less fortunate, the kind of people we need to start winning over. And Fiona Black has been sniffing around, trying to entice her over to the Dark Side. If you don’t reach out to Belle French now, before you know it she’ll be helping the Opposition produce some sort of groundbreaking policy that wins hearts and minds that we can’t afford to lose.”

“Fuck it all!” 

Sutherland slumped into his chair with a sigh. He was silent for a moment, thinking it over, and eventually shook his head.

“She won’t agree.”

“Want to bet?” said Anna. “You can be very persuasive, if you put your mind to it.”

“I’m not even sure I want her on the team, I’m not going fucking begging!” he snapped.

“Not asking you to beg,” she said. “Just be - charming.”

Sutherland sent her a look of incredulity.

“Charming?” he said. “She’d cut my bollocks off if I tried.”

“At least be polite,” she said. “Tell her you were interested in what she’s put together. Which is the truth.”

Sutherland sighed, glaring at her.

“I need a fucking cigarette,” he said, and Anna looked extremely self-satisfied.

“That’s a yes, then?”

“Alright, fine!” he said wearily. “I’ll speak to her. But no press this time. I’m not having my arse handed to me on camera any more than I can help it, okay?”

“Good idea,” she said. “Now go on, get some bloody sleep. You have schoolchildren to talk to, hospital patients to console—”

“—and a wolverine in four-inch heels to coax into a collaboration,” he finished. “Can’t fucking wait.”

[wheel-of-fish]

Where do I go to watch Norm Lewis as the Phantom? Because NORM LEWIS AS THE PHANTOM.

You mean besides at my awesome super-fun stream this Saturday? ;)

You can watch his first performance ever (with Sierra) here, and also act 2 of a performance with Kaley Ann Voorhees here.

[suzie-guru]

I’m rereading all your fics and my new favorite line is Marianne’s comment in Watch Your Back when Bog, dealing with the goblins who collapsed the tunnel, is rendered damn near inarticulate with rage: “‘OK, Bog, I get that you’re angry, but you’ve stopped using *words*.’”

Ah, I love that line too! I love that both Bog and Marianne are comfortable being their dry, witty selves with each other, it’s a lot of fun to write! 

[thestraggletag]

How are Nature of the Beast!Rumbelle and Gremma?

He had gotten used to most types of clothing, but suits still felt uncomfortable to him. Made him feel stiff and constrained, which would’ve meant death growing up where he had. He didn’t wear suits often as a result, but there was no way of avoiding them for fundraisers. And though he disliked how the suits felt he understood the power they gave him, the ability to mingle and be heard. He had learned early enough how to behave at those sorts of events. Mimicry came easy to him, and he was quick to adapt. Learning which fork to use when and what the hierarchy was when entering a room came easy to him.

It helped that his past was kept a secret. He was Dr French’s lead animal wrangler, her partner in the professional and personal sense. There was no need to elaborate. Most of the time he let Belle handle the conversation, chiming in when it was appropriate and whenever his last name might come in handy. His father had built a veritable empire, of which he had inherited a small but substantial part. It allowed him and Belle to live comfortably and to fund whatever part of their research wasn’t trendy enough to get the attention of any donors. And it was something else he could use to fit in, to convince the people with money that he deserved to be there, and be heard.

It also allowed him to lavish his mate- wife, he reminded himself- with nice dresses and shoes, though he still liked to give her handmade trinkets too, as well as flowers. He grew some of the most exotic blooms in a hothouse in their home, and provided her with one flower for her hair for special events and a matching one for his lapel. A silly little notion she adored.

The theme for the night was something jungle-related, which made him roll his eyes. It was good for them, though, easier to get people interested in jungle animals when they were halfway already thinking about it. He spied, as he led his ma- wife, Graham and Emma nearby. It was easy to see Emma had a few weeks of leave ahead of her, since they were both loose and relaxed, with none of the tension that was usually present between them when she was about to be shipped off. If he was right, and he usually was, they would soon have to have a conversation about it. Things couldn’t go on as they were.

They mingled with ease, paying little attention to the food or the drinks and eyeing who seemed receptive to a little discussion about animal welfare. He could easily spot people who were getting the right type of tipsy, enough to be more open about the idea of losing some of their money but also sober enough to remember how to write a check. 

Things were going smoothly, when they encountered Miss Mills. The mere sound of that last name had him tensing up, recalling being hunted down by that overgrown brute of a hunter and experimented on by Dr Whale. Regina Mills had allowed it all, looking at him like he wasn’t a human being at all. They both avoided crossing paths with the businesswoman whenever they could, but they hadn’t counted on her having a sister. Zelena Mills did not look a lot like her sister. Red-headed and taller, for one, with green eyes instead of deep brown. But the sense of entitlement was all Mills, as was the air of a woman who thought everyone around her was inferior.

She introduced herself with something akin to glee, decked out in a sparkling green dress that hurt his eyes a bit, a fur boa wrapped around her shoulders. She had a tamarin monkey perched on one of her shoulders, a golden lion if his red, long fur was anything to go by. The poor thing had a collar around its neck and a leash. The collar looked a bit too small for it. She kept feeding grapes and other fruits to it, in a clear effort to keep it calm.

“I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time, Mr Gold, or should I say Tarzan?”

He stiffened further, seeing how Zelena looked at him the way she looked at her monkey: like an exotic little pet. He took a step back, feeling reassured when Belle pressed herself closer to him. 

“I would ask you to keep things civil, Miss Mills. My husband is a respected member of society.”

Belle’s tone was short and clipped, the calm before the storm.

“It’s only a small jest, Mrs Gold, no need to take it the wrong way.”

“It’s Dr French.”

“Can’t blame you for not wanting to change your name. I mean, it’s clear you can appreciate your husband’s… raw animal magnetism, but at the end of the day it makes sense to keep your option open, just in case things don’t work out.”

Unlike Regina, and other people who judged him to be not entirely human, Zelena seemed to be strangely fascinated with the notion, especially in a sexual sense. She kept bumping into them during the night, making veiled overtures that became less and less discreet as the night wore on. She was one step away from fully implying that she saw Rum and Belle’s pet and she was prepared to donate a substantial amount of money to their project if only she was allowed to play with him a bit. Fortunately he had been keeping track of her habit of feeding her monkey, and the primate’s increasingly expanding belly. When the moment was right all he had to do was pull himself and Belle out of the splash zone and watch as the tamarin threw up all over Zelena’s dress and hair.

“Oh dear.”

He didn’t need to turn to Belle to know she was barely holding herself together, her body shaking with laughter. He spared a thought for the poor monkey, making sure to mention every type of disease it could potentially pass down to humans before the woman stomped out. He would have Jefferson call her later and offer to buy the poor thing, sure she would jump at the chance of getting rid of it. There were several breeding programs that would jump at the chance of acquiring a healthy juvenile male of that species.