Thanks so much! I’m glad you like it!
Currently–and by currently I mean ‘the rare moments when I don’t have writer’s block or homework to do’–episodes 1 and 2 are in a revision stage. Nothing major will change, just a few small but important interactions that I feel could’ve been done better. But regardless, it’s exciting to know they’re being enjoyed!
One of us must be, that’s too funny!
I wrote that Zepheera-vision a few days ago and was just going to keep it in my drafts for a rainy day, but then I hit 20 followers and didn’t know how else to celebrate. I’m glad you liked it!
John Smith is a hidden gem, and one that I’d like to work with more now that I think about it. The fact that he is entirely separate from the Doctor leaves his personality wide open.
In a modern-day scenario like in the ZV, Zepheera would take on a normal role as a borrower just as John Smith would become an everyday man with an everyday job. Depending on how far John’s work was, she might follow him just to make sure whatever it is they’re hiding from doesn’t find him. But if that’s too risky of a journey, she might call in a favor from a borrower in the area.
The ZV also depicts a situation that is taking a turn for the worse. Maybe their pursuers are on their trail and she needs to convince him to leave or come back with her to the TARDIS, but either way she has no choice but to reveal herself. Clearly John doesn’t take it very well at first, but he can’t help warming up to this strange little woman who thinks he’s some kind of doctor.
Though she disapproves when he calls her cute, she can’t stop him from thinking it almost constantly.
One of us must be, that’s too funny!
I wrote that Zepheera-vision a few days ago and was just going to keep it in my drafts for a rainy day, but then I hit 20 followers and didn’t know how else to celebrate. I’m glad you liked it!
“Calm down, John.”
“What? Calm? I am calm. Calm and perfectly…sane. I mean, any normal bloke would just imagine a four inch tall woman telling him he’s actually an alien from outer space. And offering said tiny imaginary woman beans on toast is only polite, logical, and-and-and–” John Smith stammered as the more than slightly burnt toast jumped straight out of the toaster, throwing him off his already flustered rant. He tried to catch the flying bread in a knee-jerk reaction, succeeding only in hurting his fingers and swatting the food across the counter, thankfully away from Zepheera.
“This is crazy!” he snapped, throwing his hands in the air in utter exasperation. With a white-knuckled grip on the counter, he rounded on the self-proclaimed borrower. “More than that–it’s impossible! There’s no such thing as aliens, and I’m not even sure if you’re real! Tiny people just don’t exist. And even if they…if you are real, then…why me? Why did you have to come to me??” John squeezed his eyes shut as though it would make everything go away, anxiously rocking back and forth a little. This was all too much for him to handle at once.
But a light touch brushing against his knuckles made his eyes snap open and focus on Zepheera, who had laid her own tiny hand on his. His breath caught; she had looked small before, but now in direct comparison to his hand he felt so terribly large. He couldn’t help but stare in wonder at how she somehow found the nerve to approach a comparative giant who could hypothetically grab her at any time, one who had been shouting at her not a moment ago. For that, John thought she was an extraordinarily brave figment of his imagination.
“I’m real,” she promised. He watched as she leaned down and took hold of his first finger where it sat curled in a formerly tense fist. She lifted it, uncoiled it, and laid the very tip of it against her cheek, half-leaning against her shoulder. John could feel her soft, fine hair, her miniscule ear, the warmth of her skin, and he could no longer deny her existence. When she saw the recognition in his eyes, she shifted the finger against her shoulder–to sit more comfortably, John could assume.
“I know it doesn’t make sense, but you need to understand that it had to be you. You don’t know it yet, but we’re friends, you and I. I’m supposed to be watching out for you in case of trouble. And I’m afraid, John, that we really, really need to talk.”
Zepheera’s voice was so kind and sincere, and a small part of John could not resist that look in her teeny violet eyes. “Shall I get started on those beans then?”
She smiled, sending a bubble of warmth through John’s heart. He’d made her happy, and for whatever reason he was extremely proud of that. “Yeah, I think you better had. Gonna be a long chat.”
John waited for Zepheera to fully let his finger go before carefully lifting it away and walking to the cabinet by the stove.
“And that’s four and a half inches tall, thanks very much!”
Despite himself, John giggled at the correction.
Bonus post celebrating 20 followers! Thanks so much, you guys!
Asks and Prompts are open! | Submissions too!
Really old drawing of mine. This is an emotional representation of Zepheera and the Doctor’s first meeting.
I drew it when I was bored in science class
“NO.”
The Doctor’s attention snapped from the kitten in his hands to the borrower putting a safe distance between herself and him. “What! I didn’t say anything!” His wide grin belied his indignation.
“You KNOW how I feel about cats, Doctor!” Zepheera glared at the bundle of fur he held as it glanced around meekly. She wasn’t fazed, not even by the little pink bow around its neck. “I thought you hated cats.”
“Oh, don’t listen to ‘er, Jacks,” he cooed, lifting the kitten to his face. “She’s just being grumpy today.”
“No, don’t name it! You are NOT keeping them!”
Her protests went ignored as the Doctor looked fondly down at the other half-dozen kittens circling his feet, crying for his attention. The only solace Zepheera could find in the situation was that they were too young to jump onto the table she currently stood on; and even then, she kept as far from the edges as possible.
Beginning to feel desperate, Zepheera tried a different angle,
only slightly emboldened by the barrier of junk between them. “Doctor. If I wanted to bring a Dalek onto the TARDIS, let alone seven, you’d say no. Because the Daleks are predators and would be a threat to AT LEAST one of us!”
Still, the Doctor didn’t respond, lost in the fluffy cuteness that surrounded him.
Part 2 next Saturday!
Asks and Prompts here! | Submissions, too!
“Doctor!”
Fire all around, chaos everywhere, and everything is in a haze, but one thing is perfectly clear: the Doctor is badly hurt.
Zepheera runs toward the Time Lord laying on his back and climbs up his chest to his sternum where she kneels and presses her hands against the ruined fabric of his suit. Where she always feels the steady one-two-three-four of his hearts she feels nothing. Where there is always a rise and fall as his lungs fill automatically with air there is only stillness.
“…No…” she whispers in disbelief. “You can’t be…Come on, you great lug, get up.”
Raising her voice, she begins to rock back and forth. “Don’t do this to me. Regenerate at least, but don’t…”
The Doctor isn’t moving. His eyes stare blankly past Zepheera even as her own well up with tears.
“We have to go home, Doctor,” she says feebly. “Back to the TARDIS. You and me, time and space, right? So…get up.”
Silence. Zepheera shakes more violently
“Please…Look at me! Listen to me, damn you, and DON’T BE–”
Zepheera woke with a jolt. She was still on the Doctor’s chest, but they were in the TARDIS. She had fallen asleep, and he must’ve noticed she was having a nightmare and shook her awake with a finger. One look into the Time Lord’s reassuring half-smile and concerned focus on her, Zepheera relaxed in relief that it had only been a dream. She leaned into his fingers for support, a comfort the Doctor was more than willing to give.
Eventually, Zepheera felt distant enough from the dream that she was able to tell the Doctor. He listened intently until the end when he cracked a goofy grin.
“Aw, you love me,” he teased, gently nudging the borrower on his chest in the ribs.
She shied away from the intrusive touch, shoving at the finger in protest. She almost regretted telling him at all. “I would sell you to Satan for one corn chip,” she groused.
“Met the guy. Dunno if he’d take you up on that offer.”
Zepheera rolled her eyes. “There’s no winning with you.”
Sorry it’s so late, long day. Hope you enjoyed anyway!
I also like G/t nicknames
For the larger sort:
-big ben
-bear hugger
-jupiter
-(make sure you’re talking about the planet not the god)
-(but space god works too)
-national monument
-shade giver
-oak tree
-daddy long legsFor the smols:
-sugar particle
-tiny
-bean
-human (or whichever!) seed
-fun sized
-pocket full of sunshine
-charmin ultra (less is more)
-dwayne “the pebble” johnson
-friends for ants
Oh, I wouldn’t put any of that past these two. I’m positive they’ve had at least a night or two in which they may or may not have had a drop too many, and ended up making a pillow fort, swapping stories, making shadow-puppets, bitching about their exes…
[has the sudden urge to write this]
Borrowed Time and Space 