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Title: Knitting Is Not A Language (Except When It Is)
Pairing: Fifth Doctor, Ainley Master
Length: 1700~ish
Summary: The Doctor receives a very peculiar message.
Warnings: The adorableness that is Five becomes a bit blinding, but you still have to love it.
Author on LJ (or Teaspoon, or Prydonian):
nemaline
Why this must be read:
Cy, being the brilliant person that she is, knitted a Dalek. We were all very anxious to see pictures and when she finally showed us her finished work, and we got a bit side tracked. She mentioned the mental image of Ten knitting, I said he should have one on his TARDIS somewhere and find it randomly, Cy said it had to be left by the person who made the scarf and somewhere along the line this person became the Master. This was along with, naturally, our discussion of knitted Dalek armies taking over the world and stopping DW execs from making terrible mistakes with Tay's ingenious death rays.
As you can see, it was the former that actually made it to fic. She sent it to me the next day and then promptly forgot that she'd done so, conversation that lead to it included. This is actually one of the greatest things about Cy. Seriously, she's got the memory of a goldfish. I can outline the whole master plot of one of my fics while bouncing ideas off her and she'll still be in suspense over it by the time I get around to typing it up. It's brilliant. I'm pretty sure she'll read this and not remember anything about that conversation, despite it being the third time I've reminded her of it. <3 We love her anyway.
Now, I'm not reccing this because Cy is one of my dearest friends (though she is that), nor because the knitted Daleks made me do it (though I'm sure they'd hold me hostage if they could), but because this is probably one of the cutest darned things you can read. Let's face it. The mental image of little Koschei knitting the Scarf and making it so big because he simply was too proud to admit he didn't know how to finish it off is adorable. Fivey attempting to knit a message back in the end only tops off the squees.
It's lovely and well written and has bunches of knitted Who aliens as part of some undoubtedly nefarious, yet cute, plot of the Master's. What is not to love about this? So do yourself a favor and go read it!
Excerpt:
The Doctor had made many unorthodox repairs to his TARDIS over the years, but other than a few bits of string holding things together, he’d never made electrical components out of wool. Frowning, he reached into the drawer and pulled the thing out - assuming it would be a hat or glove that had found its way in there by mistake.
When he saw what it was, he almost dropped it in surprise.
It was, unmistakeably, a Dalek, and probably the least threatening Dalek he’d ever seen; it was about eight inches tall, very squashy, and made of soft grey and black wool. More than simply made of: it had been knitted, and with some considerable skill and attention to detail at that. The panels of the base were clearly in place, each of them with their rows of neat black hemispheres standing out sharply; the details of the upper body, the blinking lights on top, even the weapons and the eyestalk – all were carefully duplicated and represented in the medium of yarn.
Which meant that someone had, painstakingly, sat down and spent hours of their time and effort making a cuddly toy replica of one of the most deadly and vicious beings in the known universe.
Link to the story: Knitting Is Not A Language (Except When It Is)
Pairing: Fifth Doctor, Ainley Master
Length: 1700~ish
Summary: The Doctor receives a very peculiar message.
Warnings: The adorableness that is Five becomes a bit blinding, but you still have to love it.
Author on LJ (or Teaspoon, or Prydonian):
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Why this must be read:
Cy, being the brilliant person that she is, knitted a Dalek. We were all very anxious to see pictures and when she finally showed us her finished work, and we got a bit side tracked. She mentioned the mental image of Ten knitting, I said he should have one on his TARDIS somewhere and find it randomly, Cy said it had to be left by the person who made the scarf and somewhere along the line this person became the Master. This was along with, naturally, our discussion of knitted Dalek armies taking over the world and stopping DW execs from making terrible mistakes with Tay's ingenious death rays.
As you can see, it was the former that actually made it to fic. She sent it to me the next day and then promptly forgot that she'd done so, conversation that lead to it included. This is actually one of the greatest things about Cy. Seriously, she's got the memory of a goldfish. I can outline the whole master plot of one of my fics while bouncing ideas off her and she'll still be in suspense over it by the time I get around to typing it up. It's brilliant. I'm pretty sure she'll read this and not remember anything about that conversation, despite it being the third time I've reminded her of it. <3 We love her anyway.
Now, I'm not reccing this because Cy is one of my dearest friends (though she is that), nor because the knitted Daleks made me do it (though I'm sure they'd hold me hostage if they could), but because this is probably one of the cutest darned things you can read. Let's face it. The mental image of little Koschei knitting the Scarf and making it so big because he simply was too proud to admit he didn't know how to finish it off is adorable. Fivey attempting to knit a message back in the end only tops off the squees.
It's lovely and well written and has bunches of knitted Who aliens as part of some undoubtedly nefarious, yet cute, plot of the Master's. What is not to love about this? So do yourself a favor and go read it!
Excerpt:
The Doctor had made many unorthodox repairs to his TARDIS over the years, but other than a few bits of string holding things together, he’d never made electrical components out of wool. Frowning, he reached into the drawer and pulled the thing out - assuming it would be a hat or glove that had found its way in there by mistake.
When he saw what it was, he almost dropped it in surprise.
It was, unmistakeably, a Dalek, and probably the least threatening Dalek he’d ever seen; it was about eight inches tall, very squashy, and made of soft grey and black wool. More than simply made of: it had been knitted, and with some considerable skill and attention to detail at that. The panels of the base were clearly in place, each of them with their rows of neat black hemispheres standing out sharply; the details of the upper body, the blinking lights on top, even the weapons and the eyestalk – all were carefully duplicated and represented in the medium of yarn.
Which meant that someone had, painstakingly, sat down and spent hours of their time and effort making a cuddly toy replica of one of the most deadly and vicious beings in the known universe.
Link to the story: Knitting Is Not A Language (Except When It Is)