#sure most of these are tardis console scenes

[mizgnomer]

David Tennant's unique driving style (getting his feet in on the act)

[canisonicscrewyou]

Hiiiii hiii I keep talking about it so here's an excerpt of a scene from the beginning-middle of The Fic between Rory!Master and Amy after he 'kidnaps' her (read: begs Amy to pleaseplease come inside of his TARDIS before the Doctor got back) because I'm very very normal about both of them.

Timeline Context: I'm writing Rory!Master as having regenerated directly after Missy. Timeline Fuckery.

"You know, Amy, there was one brief day in 2009 where practically everyone in the world was me. You- you were me. Huh. I guess- I guess Rory was me, too. Before. You were 20. Rory was also 20, but he'd only been around for 13 years... Do you remember what it felt like? — Nah, you wouldn't. It's fine..." he scoffed it off immediately, but still maintained a serious lack of eye contact with Amy Pond. "I don't really either..."

Amy had been trailing around the TARDIS console. This was the Master. This was who the Doctor warned her to be careful with. And while there was some fear, she was looking at him with what could only be described as pitiful concern. "What.. What did you do?"

"Stopped the world. Stopped the whole, entire world..." his voice trails, and then, slowly the Master's hands drum against the console. Four times. Then another four in quick succession before he turns back to Amy. "We could do that."

They could run off together.

If he had planned this all out, if this was some grand Master plan like the Doctor thought, this would have been easier.

He would've gotten Rory to open the watch after Prisoner Zero. After the Doctor left again. It could have been better that way. It could have been brilliant, that way. Him and Amy Pond and a Universe to try and burn thrice over and a Doctor to crush twice as hard.

"I could... I could run for Prime Minister again..."

"- What did you-" — "No. No, not that at all. Or I bet I could use Fleshkind to... Or we could go back to Leadworth, and we... I- We could get in with the Silence, he barely even knows about them yet but I do, he'd be so surprised... Or— Cybermen! Again. Or.."

As the Master goes on, Amy flags around him. Her arms crossed and head tilted. He was rambling, sure. A bit like a madman. (From what she'd seen, most things Time Lords said were mad, though, to be fair.) But one who seemed to have no idea what he was talking about. He looked like Rory whenever she caught him in a lie. He looked like Rory, panicky and eyes unfocused and unable to stop talking... Then again, he just looked.. like.. Rory...

"..... Either way I.. I barely ever try taking someone else along with me. He does it all the time. I mean, ha, look how well it works for him. Well- it works out fine for him. Eugh - You lot on the other hand... But- still-"

"Master. What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about..You could be queen of a galaxy twice over." He turned to look at her, and reached an awkward, choppy hand to take her wrist in what was supposed to be a bold, intimidating grasp. "I could show you galaxies fall and burn, Amy, or at least..a few planets.." the Master started strong, and ended fumbley as he cleared his throat and tried to avoid the fact that she looked amused. And she was. She was curious, and she was amused. The Master felt like he was drowning. "... You don't have to do everything his.. way. It isn't always the most correct. Sometimes it's just what makes him feel best. But he won't admit it."

Amy scoffed, and tugged her hand back towards herself with ease, even if the Master's hand followed with it. "... Are you trying to steal me, Master?" she asks softly.

"Is it working?" He asks far too quickly, and in some cases one might say it was timid.

"It's- well- it's a bit fucked up, I'll give you that.. I'm taking my hand back. Thanks." She says, and gently pries the Master's hand off her wrist, and places it back at his side.

There's a brief but enduring silence that lingers between the two as he stares at her dumbly, wide eyed, trying to find the way in. He needed this. Hell. He needed something. "... Have you ever wanted to kill Kovarian?" He asked to her stunned silence. And continued to it. "I mean, really, you must. Rory did. Ohh, Rory so did, and that wasn't even me, I swear..."

"... Just because I would want it doesn't make it right or what I actually... want.." Amy finally settled on. She put more distance between the two of them. "Is that really it? Is that what you're going for?"

"I mean, no, but letting her live doesn't make some part of the situation alright. It certainly wouldn't hurt, really. I mean, hell, Amy. Your fucking -daughter-. O--" Our daughter, he almost said. Not only would that not be received well, but it didn't... feel... right. He didn't feel any sort of connection to Melody or River, did he?

Well- maybe MISSY did. They'd met once before. River couldn't have known, could she? Did she ever? Was she a far better actor than he fathomed, or something?

He was getting off track.

"... As someone who's, against all odds, been a parent before. If someone snatched my child right out of my womb, I would stop at nothing to see them experience immense pain and regret, before the light cuts out of their stupid half-dead eyes."

She inhales. Sharp. "Let me get one thing straight." Amy starts. "You. Have no idea what I could possibly feel about Demons Run and Melody and- and let alone the right to try and use my own daughter as some kind of bargaining chip. Do you not think I'd see that?" She snapped, arms crossed as she looked back at him, and he looked away, briefly. But Amy paused, and her own fingers drummed against her arm. ..........

............

............

".... Okay." The Master finally relents to the silence and to the harsh, unyielding glare of Amy Pond as he turns away from it for a moment before spinning back to her. "Okay, I know, okay. But... You could still.. stay. We could be... It could be —" it could be good? "- it - it I mean it could be. Bad. For you. If you try to leave anyways." He fluffed up. Straightened his shoulders and tilted his chin up as he looked at her in an attempt to be tall.

"- I never even — who said I was letting you leave. This is a kidnapping and I am kidnapping you, Amy Pond. You aren't doing anything about it. Neither is the Doctor." The Master said, arms crossed, chest puffed and weight rocking onto his toes in front of her as he tried to catch them both back up to the reality of what this situation was supposed to be.

And Amy, arms crossed, eyes sparkling, grinned something fierce back at the Master.

She assessed the situation long ago: and it was that she probably could have walked out that TARDIS door ages ago and he wouldn't have done shit about it. She'd be getting back to the Doctor just fine, eventually.

"... I think I'll stay right here for now." "Than-- Hm. Good. That's a- a smart decision. Very wise. Let's go, Ms. Pond."

[747love]

AO3 and All That

Pairing: Richard Kruspe/Paul Landers.

Rating: General.

Author: 747Love (AKA Tardis Magic on AO3)

Summary: Richard threatens to read a fanfic traumatising the rest of the band in the process.

“Hey Reesh,” Paul said walking up to his fellow band member sitting at the common room table a cup of steaming hot coffee at his left elbow reading something that looked alarmingly familiar to Paul. “Can I ask you a question?”

It had been to the total dismay of the band that Richard seemed to enjoy sharing the fanfics that he was reading. None of them could understand why he even read them in the first place never mind sharing them. They’d all been subjected to Richards gleeful readings of their supposed love and or sex lives depending on the story he’d found.

Till threatened to throw him out of the band every time Richard so much as opened his mouth which everyone knew was as empty a threat as it was useless.

Paul had taken to wearing ear buds that he’d bought and bluetoothed to his phone after Richard had read out a yet another sex scene, leaving Paul equal parts horrified, embarrassed and confused because he was more than positive his body was not capable of doing half the things Richard read out.

Every time Richard read out a sex scene, Flake would stare at him in fascinated horror not sure if he should be taking notes or find the nearest bar. Oliver and Christoph had taken the most direct route of avoiding hearing anything by the simple expedience of running out of the room before Richard had managed to lock them in and refusing to come back no matter how much Till begged them.

“What’s up?” Richard asked, putting his iPad down next to his untouched coffee looking at Paul, and smiling at him softly.

“At the risk of embarrassing myself, why on earth do you like reading fan fiction of the band?” Paul asked, fidgeting with his sleeve trying to not look at Richard while looking at him at the same time but returning the smile anyway.

Richard laughed. “I don’t.” At Paul’s confused expression, he said. “I only read them for everyone’s reactions. Watch Till and Flake when I read one later.”

Paul blanched just thinking about what Richard had found and didn’t know if he wanted to even be there let alone watch anyone’s reaction but the mischief in Richard’s eyes made the decision for him, so he reluctantly agreed.

Richard laughed again.

Paul sighed. ‘I can’t decide if the people writing them think we’re all Olympic gymnasts or the laws of physics don’t seem to apply to us.” He paused, before blurting. “How can anyone even pull off half the positions we seem to get into?” Then blushed thinking of some of the positions he and Richard had gotten into.

Richard snickered as he stood, stroking Paul’s shoulder in sympathy. “If it’s any consolation at least you haven’t had your ribs removed so you can suck yourself off.”

Paul blinked up at Richard. “Who . . ?” he started to ask before frantically flapping his hands at Richard in horror. “No, no, no. I don’t want to know which one of us it was.” He added hurriedly just in case Richard felt the need to tell him.

Richard laughed outright at his flustered partner. “It wasn’t any of us if it makes you feel any better.” He paused and Paul sighed in relief too soon before Richard added, “That was Marilyn Manson.” He replied a cheeky smile playing on his lips.

Paul’s expression went from flustered to traumatised instantly. “Oh god.” Paul gagged, the mental image making him want to find the nearest bar and bleach the image from his mind. He stood up so fast the chair he was on toppled over and crashed to the floor before trying to head towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Richard asked.

“I’m going to get flat out drunk.” Paul tried to scoot past Richard only to get caught with a hand on his elbow whirling him around to face Richard.

“Oh no you don’t.” Richard laughed yet again his eyes still sparkling with mischief. Not for the first time Paul heartily wished he didn’t find Richard so bloody attractive when he genuinely smiled. Damn him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Twenty minutes later, Paul was seriously regretting letting Richard drag him into the oncoming train wreck that was in the form of a Till and Flake fan fiction. No amount of begging or bribery had gotten Paul out of having to watch their respective reactions and far worse there was no alcohol to at least buffer the utter embarrassment that was about to follow.

Somehow, and Paul had no idea how Richard had managed to do it, but both Christoph and Oliver were also about to become very unwilling witnesses as well.

Paul put his ear buds in. There was no way he was going to willingly listen to what Richard was about to read out. He looked up from his phone to see the rest of the band staring at him. Till was the first one to ask the obvious. “Why are you . . .” He paused, a horrified expression crossing his face before coming back to camp there.

He looked around wildly trying to find Richard before turning a truly frightening glare on Paul. “Where is the bastard?” He demanded.

Paul shook his head and refused to say a word. Normally he’d give in to Till’s glares but this time he just wanted to survive the next however long Richard would drag this out for and then he was getting spectacularly, shit faced drunk.

Till’s eyes narrowed as he continued to glare at his guitarist. “You know what he’s going to read.” He accused.

Paul shook his head again still maintaining his silence, not that he could hear what Till was saying but he could guess, and sort of lip read.

“Hey Till, Flake,” Richard all but sang coming into the rehearsal space he’d locked everyone in. “Guess what I found.”

“Oh no.” Till breathed, a horrified look momentarily replacing the glare before he shot a positively poisonous look at Paul. If looks could kill, Paul would have died decades before he was born. He swallowed nervously and hoped to hell Till didn’t murder him afterwards.

The colour drained from Flake’s face so fast Paul was worried he was going to pass out who said nothing, staring in horror at Till who refused to look at Flake at all which was interesting. Paul suspected something was going on between the pair, but he wasn’t about to ask because it wasn’t his business, and he had a feeling Till knew he and Richard had gotten together but had yet to announce it to the band and clearly Flake hadn’t said anything to either Christoph or Oliver or there would have been something said by either of them.

“Yup.” Richard replied gleefully, laughing almost maniacally when Christoph and Oliver made a break for the door only to discover it was already locked. The pair of them glowered at Richard as they sulkily shuffled back to Christoph’s drum kit they’d previously been standing in front of.

Before Richard could even lift his iPad up to begin reading the offending fan fiction Till jammed his fingers in his ears and started singing as loudly as he could.

Richard smirked and waited him out.

Eventually Till must have realised there was no way out, his shoulders slumped as he grumpily yanked his fingers out of his ears. “For fucks sake get this over with so I can get so fucking drunk I can’t remember any of it.”

Richard laughed, bringing up his iPad and spent the next ten minutes looking for the part he wanted to read.

Flake started fidgeting after a couple of minutes doing a kind of slow shuffle from one foot another as the tension in the room slowly ratcheted up. He was never a person that liked standing still for very long, hence the treadmill on stage, but he was clearly getting more and more nervous and couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off Till.

Till seemed to be trying to pretend Flake wasn’t even the room and would probably have pulled it off except his gaze kept shooting over to Flake and then jerking away again.

Richard cleared his throat and opened his mouth to presumably start reading when Till cracked. He looked over at Flake who nodded at the unspoken question, before looking at the rest of the band. “Fine. Yes, we’re dating. No, we didn’t tell any of you because it’s none of your fucking business. Can we go now?” He demanded peevishly of Richard who hadn’t said a word.

Paul was thoroughly confused. He was positive Richard hadn’t spoken since neither Till or Flake looked traumatised in any way that usually followed Richard reading fan fiction and more like they were seriously considering murdering their lead guitarist.

He yanked the ear buds out. He wasn’t sure what the hell happened, but he was infinitely grateful nothing seemed to have been read. On the other hand, he still had the matter of Marilyn Manson with one Richard Kruspe who he was going to slowly throttle when he got his hands on him and not in a pleasurable way.

“About fucking time!” Oliver exclaimed to the room in general. Christoph nodding his agreement.

Till looked at the pair in shock. “What?”

Christoph snorted. “If either of you thought you were being discreet, you need to relearn the meaning of the word.”

“Seriously, is there anything that happens in this band you two don’t know about?” He demanded peevishly of the amused pair.

“Well…” Christoph started before he doubled over laughing at Flake’s glare that matched Till’s earlier one.

Till huffed walking towards the door with the keys he snatched off the table where Richard had absently mindedly put them. He looked back at Flake. “Coming?” He asked.

Richard snickered. “Maybe later.”

Till walked over to the smug guitarist and waved his finger under his nose. “No more fucking fan fiction.” He growled then turned and walked out with a faintly amused Flake trailing in his wake.

Well at least Paul had been right about Till and Flake. He walked over to Richard and smacked him around his ear with his open hand.

“Ow.” Richard complained. “What was that for?” He demanded while absently rubbing his now sore ear.

“You, arsehole. You could’ve just told me that’s what you were going to do without the threat of reading that damn story, and I am so getting you back for the Marilyn Manson thing you just had to share with me.” Paul shuddered in horror, glaring at his partner.

“Well, it wasn’t any of us.” Richard grumbled, still rubbing his ear.

“Seriously, Marilyn Manson?” Paul moaned. He was never going to get that image out of his head.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t know about Till and Flake?” Richard complained, trying to distract Paul in case he felt the need to take his annoyance out on Richard’s other ear. He’d much rather being kissing Paul than defending his ears as he stared lovingly at Paul.

“Of course, I did.” Paul said immediately. “Well, I suspected.” He amended in typical Paul fashion looking at Richard equally as besotted.

Christoph and Oliver looked at each other with raised eyebrows as they watched the pair bicker. “Is there something you two want to tell us?” Ollie asked into the silence, clearly amused.

Paul and Richard both flinched, having forgotten the other band members were still there.

Paul turned to look at the pair, before looking back at Richard, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Neither were particularly ready to tell anyone, but it was very much a case of stiff shit since they’d pretty much just ousted themselves albeit unintentionally.

“Uh…” Paul began intelligently, not knowing what to say.

“Uhm…” Richard floundered at the same time.

Christoph couldn’t hold back his laughter at the pair. “You’re both about as discreet as Till and Flake.” He laughed.

“You knew?” Richard spluttered at the pair.

“Not until now.” Ollie said.

“Oh!” Paul added then promptly blushed. “Well, that’s that out then.” He mumbled, turning to face Richard, who was quietly going red.

[thetimelordbatgirl]

POKE :) take my Doctor Who suffering:

2, 4, 9, 11, 13, 17, 18

2. Which outfit of the doctor would you were yourself? Honestly, a-lot of the Doctor's outfits really aren't my style, lol, but if I had to pick, it'd be between thirteenth's main outfit and the outfit of fifteenth in 73 Yards:

4. Who is your favorite companion? Now this is being mean, making me pick a favorite when I have so many, lol- but I guess if I had too, its a tie between Sarah Jane, Ace, Rose, Martha, Donna and Bill...I did say its mean to make me pick, because I just can't!

9. What is your favorite console room design? Another tie, this time between eleventh's second console room design and fifteenth's current console room design, because both just look so good to me, with eleventh's having the Gallifrey symbols that are said to represent his companions up till that point while fifteenth's one being able to change colors is just such a good idea:

11. Which character do you like the least? I won't be obvious and say Kate, because I've ranted about UNIT enough...but do know she's up there at least...but I will be obvious with my next choice: every single Finetime resident, I hope Lindy and co died as soon as they went into those woods, either via more slugs or just because they too stupid to survive for more then a day.

13. What scene scared you the most? Every single scene of the weeping angels in Blink. Sure I may be fine with the episode nowadays, but that shit had me hiding behind the sofa as a child at least, especially the ending of the episode where Doctor Who casually installs a fear of every statue in existence into you with the implication they all weeping angels.

17. What is your least favorite episode, and why? I do have a list of least favorite episodes so gonna have to pick here...I won't be obvious and pick Thirteenth Era ones because those have been ranted about enough online, so...let's go with 73 Yards, because I just can't with the episode still, even with the understanding they couldn't do much with fifteenth because Ncuti was busy with Sex Education filming at the time, because even with the doctor, they still managed to make a confusing as fuck episode that felt more like a torture fest for Ruby if anything and a poor man's attempt at Turn Left/Curse of Clyde Langer that failed to understand we had Donna/Clyde for a bit by the time of those episodes and therefore we felt bad for the two versus Ruby who we didn't have for long by 73 Yards time, so uh, I don't feel as bad as I did for Donna/Clyde. Also the unneeded Kate/UNIT scene just makes the episode go to the top of the list of worst episodes even more because it really felt like they couldn't think of any other way to shoe-horn them in...plus confirming UNIT basically stalks the companions if they return to Earth to have a normal life and we supposed to be fine with the military group doing that???

18. Do you think the doctor can cook? Oh hell no, 101% would set the TARDIS kitchen whether it is, on fire within seconds of trying, and that goes for all versions of the Doctor here, they all shit cooks.

Doctor Who Themed Ask Game

[tigirl-and-co]

Hmm-hmm, little unedited snippet I banged out real fast! Sorry if the dialogue word choices sound off, my brain is full of fog and mist today so I’m having trouble remembering how everyone talks!

Anyway, here’s a short scene for Donna in the TARDIS with 12 and Bill! I just love the idea of all of them together, and finally got inspiration! I’m imagining this taking place after an adventure where Bill and Donna meet for the first time, and something happens to get Bill down.

~~~

Donna looked right into the eyes of the young adult who had taken a seat on the console room stairs and gave her the most no-nonsense, completely self-assured expression she could muster up. "Oh, don't you worry, we'll get you a man. Hell, we'll get you one before I get one, if we can."

Bill winced instinctively. "Actually, I'm... not particularly interested in men." She wanted to avert her gaze, but this was her Doctor's TARDIS, and she wouldn't cow, even for one of his old friends. She didn't see the Doctor rolling his eyes.

"Oh thank God, most of them are shite."

Bill couldn't help it- she broke out into a surprised grin. This was the best-case scenario, the one she had been hoping for.

But Donna wasn't finished. "So, girls, then? Or aliens? Kids are into aliens these days, right? Or both! Alien women, like in Star Trek!"

The Doctor was staring very intently at a screen on the main console. He wished he had his sunglasses.

"Oi! Spaceman!" Donna whipped around to face him, and he straightened up and tried to look professional. Bill, who was experiencing whiplash, managed to note he was struggling to contain both amusement and a little bit of fear. Too deep in shock to say anything, Bill instead briefly wondered just how powerful Donna was to inspire that sort of reaction.

"Yes, Donna?" he asked, quirking an infamous eyebrow despite knowing exactly what she was going to ask.

"What planets are out there with people on them that work with humans, romantically?" Donna paused for a moment, looking back over her shoulder at Bill. "Do you want them to work in all the other ways, too...? Yeaaaah, of course you do. You're young and you need fun." She turned back to scrutinize the stone-faced space Scotsman. "Well?"

He took his chance to egg on his old companion. "Donna, why exactly do you think I know anything about romance? You remember how the last bout ended, don't you? Well, I mean now you remember, of course you had forgotten be-" he cut himself off when he took notice of the glower, made more threatening by the low lights of the console room. "Sorry."

She didn't lighten up. "Yes, I do remember that a clone of yourself went off to live a long and happy life with Rose."

The Doctor frowned. "Well-"

"I wasn't finished. You also told me that River -- remember her? -- you said that she turned out to be your wife so obviously you aren't as clueless as you always say you are." She snorted, and Bill found herself wishing she had popcorn. Or chips.

"Donna-"

"And you told me you had kids back on Gallifrey, and your granddaughter fell in love with a human!" Bill almost choked on air at that.

I wonder if his granddaughter's cute...

Donna was winding down. "So don't you tell me that you don't know anything about romance, mister! Even if you were unbelievably ungraceful after kidnapping me from my wedding." She smiled in confident triumph.

Suddenly, a laugh rang out from behind Donna. Bill had finally caught on to what was happening.

"You two are hilarious!" she choked out. "Donna, thanks but no thanks- I'll find a woman on my own." She paused. "I hadn't considered an alien girlfriend before, but I guess it wouldn't hurt to be open-minded." Bill turned to look at the Doctor, who was grinning cheekily. "And you're going to tell me about... whatever she was talking about. I can't believe you ever found the time for romance!"

The Doctor frowned. "Now what makes everybody think-"

Donna seemed to be enjoying cutting him off today. "You're welcome- I'm sure a cute and clever woman like you won't have trouble finding somebody once you're ready to start looking." She walked over to Bill's side and slung her arm over the younger woman's shoulder. "And between you and me, you've got plenty of time."

Two pairs of eyes rolled this time, although only the Scottish pair had something to say. "So, Bill, I take it you don't want to go to the planet of incredibly attractive humanoid aliens, of which all are female?" He smirked. "That's good. I'm an honorary member of the species, but it can still be a bit awkward."

Bill paused, and she could feel Donna's smile, because it was infectious. She grinned even wider. "Well, I guess it couldn't hurt to check out!"

"Oh, that's good to hear, because it looks like they're being invaded and need some help!"

Both girls' grins vanished.

"Wait-"

@cloudbustingss​

LMAO TWO YEARS LATE BUT I FINALLY MANAGED TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR THEM

sorry it’s not the greatest, had an idea but brain didn’t want to cooperate

[cosmic-day]

The Star Beast: have seen it and didn’t love it. Thoughts, spoilers and negativity under the cut :

To start with the good: having positive trans representation in a mainstream show like Doctor Who is hugely important in the current climate and the episode was in many ways worth it just for that. Am I getting some innocent amusement from imagining the reactions of NMDs who (somehow) imagined RTD would save them from the show being ‘woke’? Why, yes I am.

The Meep was  a lot of fun, the new TARDIS interior is gorgeous, Shirley Bingham was great and I hope to see more of her.

Despite my issues with Ten, it was fun to see Tennant again. Still not sold on the Fourteenth Doctor as a concept, but give David Tennant credit for playing him just differently enough that I could believe he came after 11/12/13, annoying catchphrases notwithstanding.

However:

I don’t know what the fuck any of this had to do with celebrating sixty years of Doctor Who.

A lot of the charm of this episode for most people will be having Donna back, but as I am the one person in this fandom who is not a Donna fan, that just left the plot and I think the most generous word I can think of is “flimsy”.

Five minutes in and we get the “Rose” fakeout. RTD please shut up about Rose challenge. Also it turns out that Rose named herself Rose because she inherited the Doctor’s memories, oh fuck off. If that’s the reason, it should have been Susan.

Rose being trans/non binary because the Doctor is non binary is a weird way of saying that being trans is a normal part of the human experience.

The whole handwavium around Donna getting her memories back. Look first of all, I’m glad she did, because that ending never sat right with me, but the main reason it didn’t sit right was because of the horrible consent issues around the Doctor removing Donna’s memories against her will, and that is not even addressed.

Also, the execution of it just felt cheap to me. It’s such an RTD move to hype something up and then handwave it away – I mean, does anyone else remember that she already got her memories back in The End of Time and all that happened is she had a nice nap – and so the more they built up the whole “she will die” the more annoyed I got, and sure enough, hey look, she’s just fine!

Now, I could kind of accept that the metacrisis energy had passed to Rose. But the next scene was so cringeworthy and not in a good way. The weirdness of the whole “we let it go” because we are wise, compassionate, lovely women unlike you male presenting time lords was extremely WTF. I don’t know if RTD thought he was attempting feminism with this but it just came across as patronizing. Also, ironically, that kind of gender essentialist “women lovely, men horrible” shit is RadFem 101.

And finally – if you’ve been keeping up with the rumour mill, you will know why I laughed in despair when Donna spilt her coffee on the TARDIS console. There is a leak in the wild which so far has proved almost completely accurate, down to predicting the spilt coffee kick-starting the events of  Wild Blue Yonder,  and if it’s also right about how The Giggle ends, then all I can say is -  buckle up,  kids. Shit’s about to go down.

[random-writerings]

Human Traditions

Ship: Thirteenth Doctor x Yasmin Khan

Summary: The Doctor surprises Yaz on Valentine's Day.

Word Count: 758

“So, Doctor, got anything planned for Valentine’s Day?” Ryan asked.

“What?” she replied, scrunching her nose in concentration as she repaired the TARDIS.

“Y’know, now that you and Yaz are together, are you doing anything special? It is your first Valentine’s as a couple.”

The Doctor emerged from under the console with grime streaked down her cheeks. “What are you talking about? What’s Valentine’s Day?”

Ryan laughed before realising she was serious. “You don’t know?” he asked, shocked. “It’s a human tradition. A day where you either confess your feelings to the person you like or, if you’re already in a relationship, you do something nice for your partner. Most people send cards or love letters, or buy chocolates, flowers, teddy bears, and so on. Or you can take your partner on a cute date or have a romantic candlelit dinner.”

“Huh, a whole day dedicated to love.” The Doctor smiled. “Humanity never fails to amaze me.”

“So?” Ryan raised an eyebrow at her. “You and Yaz … ?”

“Oh, right! Hmm, I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“I’m sure you will.” Ryan chuckled.

~~~

Once the fam had been dropped off at home (they needed a little rest before their next adventure), The Doctor began her research into this Valentine’s Day. Ryan was right, it was her and Yaz’s first time celebrating this holiday together, so she wanted it to be special. 

She arrived at Yaz’s flat at precisely 6 o’clock on the 14th of February (the TARDIS had been extra careful in getting the timing right). The Doctor fiddled with her blazer, smoothing it down nervously. 

Oh, nervousness. That was new, she noted. It was a strange feeling; her stomach felt fluttery, and her hearts were beating faster. 

But she was also excited. She hoped Yaz liked the surprise. She really, really wanted to get this right.

Yaz’s mum opened the door. “Oh, hello,” she greeted The Doctor before turning her head back inside to yell, “Yaz, it’s for you.”

Yaz practically jumped off the sofa. She had been anxiously waiting for The Doctor, hoping she would show up on the right day. She approached the door and smiled at her girlfriend. 

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“Hey. I got these for you.” The Doctor handed her a bouquet of red roses. 

“They’re lovely. Thank you.” Yaz grabbed a present wrapped in pale pink paper off the hallway table. “I have something for you, too.”

The Doctor carefully untied the magenta ribbon, revealing a pack of custard creams.

“I know chocolates are more traditional, but I thought you might like these more,” Yaz explained, suddenly feeling rather silly. The Doctor had given her beautiful roses, and she had merely made a trip to the supermarket for biscuits.

But The Doctor beamed, her bright smile washing away Yaz’s worry. “Oh, I love them, Yaz. They’re perfect.”

Yaz chuckled at her girlfriend. She could be such a dork sometimes, and Yaz loved her so much.

Yaz found a pretty vase for the flowers and placed them on a windowsill.

“Have fun, you two!” Her mum called after them as they left.

“So, where are we going?” Yaz asked. “Your letter was a bit cryptic.”

The Doctor had taken Ryan’s suggestion and sent Yaz a nice letter inviting her on their date. But she had been deliberately vague so as not to spoil the surprise.

“You’ll see.” The Doctor politely opened the TARDIS doors for her date.

The TARDIS disappeared, materialising again a moment later. They had arrived at their mysterious destination.

The Doctor opened the doors again, watching Yaz’s face carefully. The starlight shone in her dark brown eyes as she took in the scene before her.

They were on the moon. The Earth looked so small, lights blinking at them from miles away. The Doctor had set up a small table with a crimson tablecloth draped over it. There was a candle in the middle (only burning thanks to the TARDIS’ oxygen bubble) and two plates waiting for them.

“Doctor,” Yaz breathed in awe.

“Is this … I mean, do you like it? Human traditions can be complicated, and I wanted to get this right …” The Doctor started to ramble.

“It’s perfect,” Yaz cut her off. “It really is.”

The Doctor smiled, breathing a small sigh of relief. She pulled out Yaz’s chair for her, then darted back inside the TARDIS to fetch their meal. 

It was peaceful, just the two of them. A perfect moment that they both cherished, talking and laughing as they dined among the stars.

[quailfence]

[Image description: Gifs of Donna and the Tenth Doctor from Doctor Who. On each gif, a scene from the Doctor Who Magazine comic story "The Time of My Life" appears. 1: The Doctor opens the TARDIS door, and he and Donna look out. Comic: Doctor: You'll love it, Donna, trust me! Donna: Trust you? What is this, a tour of the universe's most scenic quarries?

2: Donna looks around at white stuff falling from the sky. The Doctor stands in the TARDIS doorway and grins. Comic: The Doctor and Donna stand on a snow-covered plateau. The Doctor shouts, "Fantastic!"

3: Donna nods, and she and the Doctor exchange a glance. Comic: Donna: Why is it, wherever we go, people are trying to kill us? Doctor: Why? Do you want to stop? Go home?

4: They hold hands and walk. Comic: Donna: thanks for this. Sometimes, I forget to say thanks. Doctor: Don't mention it. Come one! It's time we got back to-

5: They smile at each other. Comic: Donna: A recorded message? Doctor: Emergency programe one! If anything happens to me, I've left instructions to get you home!

6: They laugh. Comic: Doctor: Run! Donna: No, really? I thought I might stay and get eaten!

7: They talk to each other. Comic: Donna: Doctor, I don't want to die! Not here! And not in this blouse! Doctor: Don't worry, Donna, I'm not going to let you die… Donna: How can you be so sure?

8: They hug in the TARDIS. Comic: Holo-Donna: Right. I think it's recording this time… third rime lucky! Thought I'd leave you a message. Just in case I didn't get the chance to say goodbye properly. Y'know, through being eaten by a swamp monster or something!

9: Another hug. Comic: Donna, from off-camera: Like I said, that Christmas…find someone. Because traveling's not half as much fun on your own. You need someone to show off to! I was wrong, what I said back then. You don't need someone to stop you. You need someone to keep you going. That's all I wanted to say. Thanks, basically. And good-

10: Black and white gif of Donna in her wedding dress, talking. Comic: The Doctor stands next to the TARDIS console and says, "…bye." End description.]

[Plain text: "Will I ever see you again?" // "If I'm lucky."

Or, the Doctor and Donna Noble, in The Time of My Life, DW Magazine #399. End plain text.]

@dw-described @waywren

"Will I ever see you again?" // "If I'm lucky."

Or, the Doctor and Donna Noble, in The Time of My Life, DW Magazine #399

[cebwrites]

bittersweet, clear medicine

a/n: a little gift for @itsgai since i've been rotating our characters in my head nonstop sfsdjgh

oc | gen word count: 1k

Two weeks since Shin was cleared from their physical therapy. 14 days since an older man in a sterile white lab coat had given them a clean bill of health in the stead of their usual medic since he'd been sent on a mission at the time.

Takashi still congratulated them when news reached him once he returned, though. Baked him a lopsided cake and everything.

Unable to recapture the slumbering sand in their eyes, Shin sat up with a lot less difficulty than they'd struggled with in previous months. Taking note of an owl's morning hoots on the branch outside their window, then the actual note on their bedside table to take their meds and stretch properly.

...Right.

With Gai out of the village at Tsunade's request, Shin would have a few more hours free every day for a little while. Today, they chose to spend it tailing someone else for a change, out of curiosity if anything else.

Shin arrived at Konoha's main hospital to find a scene of mild panic—though they still kept their distance—nurses ranged from completely flustered to only showing mild irritation, other patients and staff members still conversing as if the old man making a break for it across the lawn in nothing but scrubs was just another everyday occurrence.

Judging from the exasperation of senior medical personnel, it was.

There was no need to intervene, however, since the man was eventually apprehended by a couple of winded interns, probably former shinobi from the way they moved, but not particularly good enough to keep on the field.

"Takaki-san! You can't keep trying to escape your sponge bath! This is embarrassing, think of what your daughters will have to put up with when they hear about their father's bare ass in public."

"Agh, let them! S'what they get for leaving me in the care of you bozos."

As the excitement died down, Shin gradually started to ignore most of their surroundings in lieu of searching for their person of interest again; blending into the background despite their distinct appearance made even more notable by the new scar that spanned across a large part of their upper body now.

They found him about an hour later, still remaining hidden, apologizing for his tardiness and placing blame on a failed alarm clock. His seniors could forgive Takashi for being behind schedule, but they still laid into the young man for overworking himself again.

That... Takashi had no excuse for.

Shin watched from the shadows as Takashi went about his day, tending to patients with the same tenderness they had been afforded under his care, disappearing in and out of rooms Shin either had no access to or felt wrong to spy on given specific circumstances. They also gained funny looks from a handful of particularly perceptive jonin passing by, but most people either ignored them or weren't aware of their presence.

At some point they'd lost their in the somewhat controlled commotion of rush hour, but found Takashi making polite conversation with a coworker during his lunch break outside.

"That's Takaki-san for you," he offered a smile in consolation to his fellow medic-nin, "he gets really fussy if he isn't allowed to have his breakfast in view of the sun."

"Does it really matter? That doesn't give him an excuse to make hell for the rest of us."

Takashi put down the instant coffee he'd been nursing, turning his gaze to the band-aid wrapped around his left index finger. "I think it does. Lots of our patients will be here for the rest of their lives. The least we can do is make sure it's comfortable and dignified, right?"

Tuning out the other medic's complaints, something along the lines of there being no dignity in running around naked, Shin's mind began to wander to a conversation they had with the taller brother out of this pair some time ago.

"What do you think of your brother, Takashi."

"...What about him?" Tae's attention lifted from the shogi board between them to his companion's face; still heavily bandaged, but he'd heard from his brother that they were well enough to start moving around - the reason why he was here playing in Takashi's stead.

"Your opinions; do you think little of him, do you find his weaknesses a hindrance."

"No." The response is immediate. Though his voice is still very monotone, Shin senses a twinge of irritation worked into the muscles of Tae's forehead as they take one of his pieces off the board. "I don't think my brother is weak."

"Tacchan has more strengths than drawbacks. He can do things most people can't as a medic-nin, he's kind despite everything. If I was in his position I would have failed a long time ago. Takashi's someone people can easily trust in."

Shin watches the board, mirroring the placid expression of the man before him as their game intensifies, beads of sweat starting to form on their skin with every audible wooden tap, every new move, every counterattack,

"So I won't let anyone mock my brother's resolve."

Check mate.

Shin's brought back to the present by the sound of their target and colleague getting up to stretch, to get back to their backbreaking, thankless labor - they also begin to wonder about the similarities they've noticed between these twins.

Just as they feel as though they've observed enough and get up to leave, Takashi's voice catches Shin's attention again.

"Oh man, I'm going to be late for my afternoon match with one of the patients—we better hurry!"

"The shogi one? But I thought that guy was released a while ago?"

They watch from the cover of densely packed leaves as their former physician stumbles, almost losing his balance as the information registers and his buddy fusses over whether Takashi's really alright or not, regardless of the sheepish grin he's given.

Shin couldn't help the small, almost inaudible laugh that bubbles out from them—hidden by their sleeve. They don't suppress the smile that forms at the thought of Takashi yelling at them to get down from there and rest, Shin-san since even though they'd been cleared from physical therapy, they were still technically not supposed to strain themself.

Exemplified by the way their right shoulder had been prickling on and off all day. But that would just be another excuse reason to visit the doctor, right?

[unboundtravels]

SHORT TRIPS; UNBOUNDNOVEMBER 22/23: DANDELION

Some people are islands, some people brave the mightiest of oceans. Sometimes you can put Humpty Dumpty back together again. It just takes the right person.

Featuring additions from @gunnhildred

People come and go. It’s the nature of things. A lesson that’s seemingly baked into the DNA of every living thing. Most of them, anyways. Life and death is a universal understanding shared between everything and everyone inhabiting creation. When people go, it brings pain. It reshifts priorities in a way that can leave those left behind rattled and confused. It certainly left him rattled. Dealing with loss is a unique challenge, for it comes in all sorts of different shapes and forms. No loss is ever the same, and each one is deeply personal. Some more than others. 

There are two things The Doctor understands about loss, though. On one hand, you can either shut yourself down on an island, free from any future loss or any future heartache, or live safely in your own little bubble. The problem with the bubble tactic, however, is that there’s no noise inside of it. You can’t hear anyone reaching out, and you’ll struggle to realize whether or not your island is safe or not, or if there is danger. That danger of course being the only other person on the island: You. A confusing analogy, but having tried the island approach before, The Time Traveler has decided to opt for the latter approach—

Continuing to walk the cosmic trail with all you’ve learned from the loss before. There’ll always be risks, everyone knows that. If there were a place where the bad guys were simply naughty, or a world where no one ever died and there were only happy endings… then he’d be living in that world. For now, he just has to deal with the hand he’s dealt and hope that he can do better next time around. That’s what the people who’ve gone would want, after all. At least, he hopes. Sure, there’ll be those low points, those moments of crushing loneliness that leave you tired and deflated…

But some— Just for a little while—

The front doors to the TARDIS console room suddenly swing open. A very wet rag of a Timelord almost alarmingly runs over to the main console, as if he’s just been rained on. Which, he has. It is raining, but it only just started. He thought a run through a rain would deter a passing crowd of paparazzi who’ve mistaken a certain new passenger as another very famous actress currently doing a subway grate scene for a movie called Seven Year Itch a couple of blocks away. 

“C’mon!! Inside!! Quick quick quick!” The Scruffy Doctor shouts towards the front door before he starts flicking and twisting various switches across his open-engine style console. “This is why I have 1955 on my banned list of locations. Something always happens! And it always rains!” He huffs, “Always with the rain.” 

At the Doctor’s behest, heel-clad feet race along after him, darting through puddles and drenched stretches of sidewalk with naught be a crumpled newspaper held over a blonde-crowned head. Flashes of light follow in her wake, the unmistakable click of paparazzi cameras very nearly dazzling the Teyvat native outright, but thankfully she had the timelord’s voice to ground her. 

If anyone had asked her six weeks ago if she’d have grown accustomed to that bossy lilt that seemed to be perpetually edged in frustration, Jean would have laughed outright - but against the odds, much like the man in question, it had grown on her. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” In softer tones, his companion claps back, rapid footfalls having been just swift enough to escape her entourage and skid to a halt inside the Tardis’ far more welcoming domain. 

Lowering the soggy newspaper clutched in hand, with a shake of her sopping ponytail, the knight couldn’t resist the glass-half-full demeanor that saw fit to counteract his own malcontent. “No rain, no flowers, Doctor. A little water won’t kill you.” 

“You don’t know that!” The Timelord points, having been in the middle of ringing out his own shirt, “Maybe I’m the wicked witch of the west and I’ll DIE if I’m WATERED.” He was clearly very grumpy from having been rained on.

Without missing a beat, Jean was quick to clap back with her own literary barb and just the hint of a knowing twitch of her lips. “If you were the wicked witch of the west, Doctor, you’d have far better shoes.”

His response was to gasp loudly while his fingers moved to pull up a grate on the console room floor, almost akin to a secret floor panel on a smuggler ship. “I never should’ve shown you television.” His brows furrowed before he leaned the grate against the console.

Diving in like it was some kind of floor closet, The Doctor immediately started digging through his floor grate of mysterious objects. Many a plethora of his objects collected amidst his travels had gotten lost in various trunks and cabinets across his many consoles presets. Now, in this preset, he seems to have chosen to move everything underneath the floorboards, as it were.

“Let’s see…” He mused from underneath the grating, throwing a few various objects up from beneath the floor. Amidst the various objects thrown up from the floor came a vortex manipulator, a pocket watch, a few dusty books, and—

He emerged from the floor grate with the head of a robot in his hands, “Wilson!!!” He chuckled, “That’s where he went. I was wondering what’d happened to him.” The Doctor mumbled, shaking the robotic head next to his ear before throwing it over his shoulder, a loud CLANG echoing from the back of the console room. 

While it wasn’t the most unexpected thing the Doctor had ever done, the sudden appearance of an unexpected robotic head was…suffice to say, enough to make Jean’s head shift in alarm, the line of her baby blues following the dismembered android as it was so effortlessly tossed behind. 

Lips part to speak. To question. To ask just how long he’d had this unexpected interloper stashed beneath the floorboards. But the words never come, her mouth instead closing in a mixture of bemusement and realization that perhaps it was safer not to ask. 

Besides, the blonde’s attention was soon captured once again by the Doctor when he rummaged yet further in the mysterious void beneath the floor, before shouting out— “AHHH-HAH!!” Two sets of towels, still neatly folded and seemingly freshly dried, were then plucked from the treasure trove of goodies. 

“Here you are!”

Accepting the offered bounty of warmth without hesitation, Jean nodded her thanks, before squeezing out the Manhattan deluge from her hair with a derisive nose crinkle. “Do I even dare ask what else you have stashed down there Doctor?” 

“Oh, definitely not.” His head emerged from the open floor section before he looked up toward her, “I mean. Of course not! I don’t even know what’s under there. Not fully.” He spoke aloud before crawling out and shutting the grate underneath him. His thumb moved to brush at his chin lightly, hands momentarily placed on his hips as he blinked for a moment.

“Besides!” He suddenly derailed his pondering train of thought. What was under there? Questions for another day, he decided. “There’s a bigger question you should be asking! Which is—” He stopped, realizing he’d caught himself in some kind of awkward loop. “Er…” He supposed he’d be the one asking the question now.

“Where to next?”

In a universe so vast and never-ending, there was certainly no shortage of choice for where their adventures would take them. From rubbing shoulders with historical greats to dodging mortal peril and hilarious faux pas - if there was one thing Jean had come to learn with the Doctor, it was to expect the unexpected. 

Yet even with this caveat in mind, it still hadn’t prepared the knight for that delicious carrot of opportunity, so readily dangled before her. It was a valid question was it not? Where should they venture next? Perhaps some distant moon? Or bygone era? Or maybe a planet where it did nothing but rain, purely to tease the Timelord for his dislike of any unprecedented deluge. 

But that of course would mean he was truly asking; rather than floating the rhetorical before her in anticipation of dropping the breadcrumbs of clues as to where and when they might end up exploring next. Edging closer with a conspiratorial lean, Jean hummed softly in thought as a myriad of possibilities danced across her mind. She would note that when she leaned in for that sort of hushed secret whisper, The Doctor also leaned in. It was as if they were forming some kind of plan despite it just being them. 

“Go on then, where are we heading?”

He paused. He seemed confused at her question.

“...No, I asked you.” 

“Oh!” Eyes blinked once, and then again, heavy lashes fluttering over baby blues as a sheepish tinge of pink crept into ivory cheeks. “I thought you were being coy and teasing our next adventure - since you never ask me.” She watched how this caused him to step around the console for a moment, face in deepest perlexion.

“That’s not true.” It is. “I don’t never ask…” That’s not true.

Maybe she ought to have put more faith in him for giving her the option, or to have trusted his sincerity and judgment at face value, but alas, experience had led her to believe otherwise until this moment. Something, Jean herself would inevitably humbly apologize for if he needed it to soothe his bruised ego, which he didn’t seem to need right now.

“Maybe somewhere warm? Since rain wasn’t to your liking. Somewhere warm and pleasant; with a balmy breeze - so no desert planets, please. Or somewhere with the oldest bookshop in the cosmos. That’s got to exist right? Or perhaps failing that the prettiest garden you’ve ever seen in the known universe? Something that transcends mortal senses and just…hits you with colors and smells and something full of life. You know the kind of place I mean? The ones you only ever read about.”

The way she talks about the locations she describes causes his expression to change from humbled frustration to softened admiration. He keeps it subtle, keeps the expression mostly masked. He listens, though. Intently. When he first met Jean, he could tell right away that she was a workaholic. Burdened by the pressure of being second in command with an absent leader. The idea of having that much responsibility would often make him feign nausea whenever she’d bring it up. As a tease, anyway.

However, watching her describe all the places she’d like to go— like to see. It’s sort of like seeing something you knew was always there come out to the surface. The Doctor moved to brush his finger over the side of his nose softly, humming along. “You know, Miss Gunnhildr—” He moved to start flicking a few switches, setting coordinates with a twist of a dial. “I always knew deep down beneath that overworked exterior—” Again, more teasing. He found her hand, moving it over toward the lever that made the ship go. One she’d seen him pull many times before. He finishes his statement after her hand wraps around it. 

“That there was some semblance of an adventurer in there.” The way he spoke that, though. There was just something about it that spoke more as if he were leaving paragraphs to read between the lines of what he was saying. In truth, though, it had been Jean who had helped him find the same spirit inside himself that he now beckoned out of her. 

The tease earns him a smack; the lighthearted swat of her hand against his shoulder accompanying an all too playful roll of her eyes. “I will have you know, I was always an adventurer first - knighthood just…took a little more of my attention the older I got.” Her tone is only ever so slightly defensive, but deep down she knows he’s right. 

How much of her life had she put on hold to maintain justice and order for the Ordo Favonius? How much mischief, freedom, and fun had been sacrificed in pursuit of a goal greater than herself? It was only fair that she reclaim what had been lost…at least with a little enablement from her rulebreaker friend. 

“Go on then, miss troublemaker.” He had to resist feigning a gasp of disbelief, instead nodding his head toward the takeoff switch. “All of time & space. Every single square inch of it is lying out there for us to explore.” His brows furrow together, and there’s that cheeky little smile, “Yeah… I know the kinds of places you mean.” He’s asking her to send them off because he knows they’re in this for the long haul. They have to be. He needs someone like Jean to remind him of why he’s still trucking along across the old cosmic trail. “They’re certainly not stories, either.”

Jean doesn’t need telling twice; fingers coiling around the all-important lever that stood between boring normality and a brave new world. “...Yes they are. They’re my story. Our story.” And with that she pulls, tugging the level down to set in motion their next long overdue adventure.

There’s that all-familiar sensation of the ship rocking in motion when it takes off, before the sound the TARDIS makes echoes across the room. They almost fall to their knees from how fast the ship takes off, before grabbing onto the edge of the console. He had this face on for just a moment as if they might explode or something when they took off, but he laughed. She laughs. It’s exciting. Their blood in their veins pumping like it’s some kind of drug. The words she speaks next make him smile— a restored brightness. One he’s glad she brought out.

“...we’re just at the beginning of it.”

[canisonicscrewyou]

Hi ignore that I haven't been working on the prologue so I can start editing+posting The Fobwatch Fic. Anyways this fic scene possessed me at like 2 AM the other night and I needed to. Get it out of my system. And now you get to see too. This follows not-terribly-long after this scene actually. (Only other one posted)

Context to get here: Rory's watch opening, processing, the Master failing badly at kidnapping Amy, returning her back, and an argument that had ensued between the Doctor(11) and the Master.

Timeline context: Rory/Darvill!Master regenerated from Missy. Timeline fuckery.

"Anyways, now that we're over that." The Master presses a button on his TARDIS console. "Maybe it's time for something more familiar."

Music plays over the speakers.

Oh-oh-oh-ohhhhh-

"Wait-" The Master bangs on the console in his frustration, and the song starts to skip.

Rah rah-ah-ah-ah-a-ah

Gaga ohh-la— -la

Thud. "— that's not right-"

Caughzz—

- Want your—

Bad Romance.

"That isn't- oh- oh yeah, right, sorry - last chick was on the aux-"

Ooh-la-la

Want your-

Last chick? The Master had been holding Amy hostage... Kind of. The Doctor glanced at her, and she looks at him. "I was in here for all of forty minutes, I wouldn't even know how to put it on-" she starts, and there's a moment before the Doctor catches up and turns to follow the Master with a look of knowing delight on his face.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, wait a second, last who?"

Love love love I want your—

The Master rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on Doctor. I feel like that was very clear. Last girl round. My darling little sister, trying her best..."

Amy's brow knits, and she speaks up to direct a question to the Master, who was... stewing. "Sorry- Can you guys change that much?"

His face scrunches, and he pulls himself out of it."We can change much more than you think, Amy."

I want it bad your bad romance—

"Last time around I was a very cunty Scotswoman and I wish I could say I took inspiration."

There's a moment where he tries to skip, or stop, or something, but it kept going. So he did the next best thing- smack the column of the console with a loud, dull thud from the glass. And a sharp, quiet hiss from the Master when he winces and grabs the offending hand.

I want your - bad bad bad bad-ad —

oh-oh-oh-oh—

After a moment, the Master turns to the Doctor and points. "Don't go getting any ideas copying me next time around."

Bad Romance finally stops.

The Doctor suddenly turned serious about the whole thing. Right. Next time around. He wasn't sure if he wanted the Master to know that. Or Amy... "Master, the thing- about next time-"

The Master got closer, and prodded the Doctor's shoulder with a finger. "Don't worry about that too much, I wasn't talking to you right then. That was for later." The other song starts.* And with that finger poke, the Master makes a dramatic motion, as if he pushed himself away from the Doctor with great force as he circled his TARDIS console away from them both to check another monitor.

*Most Likely: Mamma Mia, Under Attack, or Istanbul(Not Constantinople). It will probably be mentioned again in a manner similar to Bad Romance once I decide. Yippeee.

Insert A Song Beat

"Did you seriously do that on purpose?" Amy asks, looking around the TARDIS for the exact source of the music, and then back at the Master. He still wasn't as far off from the sad drowned cat look earlier as he thought, looking up at her.

"Oh, Amy, there's on thing you should've picked up on by now: I'm dramatic." He winks at her. "You have to be, to keep up with him." He tilts his chin to the Doctor, and his attention returns to a monitor as it makes a beeping noise.

"... Anyways, Doctor, you can start running now." He says.

The Doctor hesitates. "... What do you mean?"

The Master continues to look on idly. "I mean that I happened to- to take- Amy to buy time. And to bother you. Oh, I know it bothered you. Probably even more than the whole Rory-Oopsie."

If the Doctor didn't want to believe he didn't have A Plan, he'd find A Plan.

"I knew you'd come back to Leadworth as soon as I did. Gave me enough time."

"... Time for what..?"

"Oh, to use that little trip-alarm you left for me to download the psychic data I needed from yourr TARDIS. To my TARDIS." The Master looked up with a big self-pleased smile to the Doctor's serious furrowed brow.

"Doon't worryy! I only took what I needed. C'mon, what's a little hacking among girls? Buut, I'll tell you this," he pushes a big square button, and the door to his ship opens.

"If you start running now, you'll get to your TARDIS with enough time to stop me from getting access to try 'n send her into orbit from here— ah,ah,ah,ah-" the Master tuts and pushes the monitor away from the other two, and braced himself against the Doctor when he tried to rush at his console with a shout, "- don't bother, Doctor, the controls are isomorphic," a lie, "you know me," he said into the Doctor's ear. "But I would run."

That felt. Good. That felt familiar.

The Doctor was already backing up. The Master didn't let go, right away, his hands following the other even as he left the embrace in unexpected panic.

"Amy, run!" The Doctor shouts, and runs.

"Amy, you can stay!" The Master shouts immediately in turn, turning to Amy with an open hand out.

And Amy hesitates, mouth open and eyes wide as she stares at the Master(at Rory's eyes), before following the Doctor out at a sprint. [cont]

[modernwizard]

When the Master kneels and begs...

In the 2013 Doctor Who novel Harvest of Time by Alistair Reynolds, all of the Master's past, present, and future incarnations have been turned into a giant genius battery by the Sild, evil robot crabs, to take over time. But we don't really care about those details because...seriously...who reads/watches/listens to DW for any sort of coherent plot?

Here's what we care about. In chapter 27, The Master [Delgado Master] somehow feels released from the influence of all his other "genius battery" incarnations. He describes the internal change on page 267:

['Doctor, you, of all people, have always been ready to see the best in people, even in their darkest hours. I am asking you now to see the best in me. I have changed. I am truly not the man I was. And I weep for the things I have done.'

'Mm. Crocodile tears, I think the phrase is.'

The Master, still enfeebled, tried and failed to rise from the chair. 'Doctor, now of all times, you must believe me. This changes everything!'

'I'm not sure it does.']

The Doctor [Three] does not believe the Master and rejects the Master's claims, even when the Master grovels in abject supplication on page 269:

['As one Time Lord to another. We were friends once. Let me live. Don't make me become that thing again.'

'You've never changed,' the Doctor said, only half listening. He needed to judge the moment exactly… 'You've always been the Master. You will always be the Master.'

The Master fell to the Doctor's feet, clutching his trouser legs. 'I beg of you. Put aside all I have done to you…'

But the central column of the console had ceased its rise and fall. The Doctor stepped away from the pathetic, kneeling figure. The Master was sobbing.

'It was a nice try,' the Doctor said, not without a certain fondness. 'But really, after all we've been through, did you honestly expect me to fall for it?']

The Master snaps out of it as the influence of the evil "genius battery" incarnations reasserts itself, restoring him to his usual arrogant, destructive personality. When this occurs [pages 270-271], this is what the Doctor thinks:

[The Doctor wondered if the Master was simply up to more trickery and gamesmanship. But some vile intuition told him otherwise. The Master was being sincere now, as he had been sincere in the TARDIS. And that could only mean that the Doctor had committed perhaps the gravest error of judgement in all his years.

The Master's words tolled in his head like a cracked bell. You, of all people, have always been ready to see the best in people, even in their darkest hours.

And that was true, most of the time.

'I'm terribly sorry,' the Doctor said, quietly.]

This scene reminds me of the one that appears in The Power of the Doctor almost ten years later when Ruth Doctor and Yaz are undoing the Spymaster's forced regeneration of Thirteen into the Spymaster. "I erased you, Doctor!" cries the Spymaster. "Don't let me go back to being me."

For all their fucked-upness, both Delgado Master and the Spymaster are both truly, desperately groveling here, asking their Doctors for help. Both versions of the Master feel confined and miserable in their cruelty and meanness and sadness. They both want to be something different. They both ask for help from their old friend/worthy opponent/best enemy. In both cases, Three and Thirteen each make the not-really-Doctor-like decision to ignore their Master's pleas and assume that he's insincere. Only Three acknowledges and regrets that mistake, however. I really hope that Thirteen's ruthlessness and general denial of feelings will come back around and BITE A FUTURE INCARNATION IN THE ASS.

@natalunasans @sclfmastery @timeladyjamie @whovianuncle @rowanthestrange @queen-of-meows @spoonietimelordy

[mnemosyne-musing]

Spoilers (River/12) prompt #7

Final one for prompt week! This has been so much fun (although my thesis has been sorely neglected this week. Oops 😬). Thanks to @riversofmars for coordinating!

ao3 link here

“Things end. That's all. Everything ends, and it's always sad. But everything begins again too, and that's always happy. Be happy. I'll look after everything else”

The Doctor turns on his heel and retreats to the safety of the TARDIS as quickly as he can. His collar suddenly feels too tight, much too tight and he loosens the top buttons with a shaking hand just so he can breathe. He closes his eyes and swallows painfully.

Be happy. A lot easier said than done apparently.

He reaches a shaking hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out an envelope. Holding it in front of him, he traces the writing on the front with a gentle hand.

He knows that sloping handwriting better than his own. He’s seen it pop up on his psychic paper countless times over the years, seen it on scrawled notes left around the TARDIS and their house on Darillium, crosswords that they’d spend a lazy Sunday afternoon completing or notes jotted in the side of books or poems.

Mum and Dad

She had finally got to a place in her relationship with her parents where they were all comfortable with who they were and what had happened. She’d opened up a bit during their twenty-four years together. Told him things that he’d assumed but never heard her say. That her relationship with Amy and Rory would never be quite like a normal parent-child relationship. It never could be really. A part of them was always going to mourn the baby daughter they had for such precious few moments. But it was as close as they were going to get and both they and River had accepted that.

And now they would never see her again.

She’d written this letter during the final few months on Darillium. The final few things she wanted to tell them.

“I’m always there for Christmas,” she’d told him, a small smile on her face, clearly thinking about all the holidays she’d already spent there, “If there’s an empty space at the table then you’ll know.”

He’d agreed to make sure it got to them. To fix the time disruptions around New York so that he could get the TARDIS there safely. So they wouldn’t be left for years with an empty place at the table. Just waiting and hoping.

He reaches out a hand for the controls but he doesn’t even manage to touch them before he feels his throat closing up again. Snatching his hand back, he clenches his fists tightly and strides away from the console, shutting his eyes against the tide of grief that threatens to overwhelm him again.

Not today. He just can’t.

He will do it. He owes her that much. But not today.

He disappears off with Nardole for a while. He saves some people here and there, gets involved with a free jazz band for a while, invents a new blend of tea. It’s a while before he feels strong enough to try and deliver the letter again.

He waits until Nardole has pottered off for the evening and then sets the coordinates, putting the TARDIS into silent and invisible mode, and pulls the lever. As the TARDIS lands, he takes a deep breath and pulls the monitor towards him with a shaking hand. The screen flickers to life and he stares at the scene in front of him. He’s parked in the back yard of a house. There’s snow on the ground around him and he can see the remnants of a snowman that’s half melted back into the ground.

He looks up towards the house and his breath catches. Through the kitchen window he can see a familiar festive scene. There’s Amy, no mistaking her despite the paper Christmas hat sat on her head, stood with her back to the window. In the background, he can see a table all set up for Christmas dinner. Amy’s obviously talking to someone as she suddenly throws her head back and laughs. He smiles, despite himself and reaches up to gently touch the screen.

“Oh, Amelia,” he whispers softly, thinking back to all the Christmases he’d spent with the Ponds in his previous incarnation. Amy and Rory’s good-natured bickering over the cooking, Amy insisting they all play charades after dinner, Rory trying not to glower at the pair of them as River’s hand slowly inched somewhere inappropriate.

A door in front of Amy opens and he suddenly catches sight of Rory. He starts as he realises Rory is holding a baby. Holding a baby and still looking quite young by the looks of things which means…

“Bugger,” he swears under his breath, realising he’s got the timing wrong. If Anthony is still a baby then this is still many years before River’s last visit. She’d told him that one of the very last times she’d been to see them that Anthony had just graduated from high school. It was one of her regrets that she wouldn’t get to see him go to college. He can’t deliver the letter now. He won’t condemn her parents to years of what he’s had to live with. The knowledge that her death is just waiting out there in the universe.

He gives one last look at the monitor before shaking his head and pulling the console lever, the TARDIS dematerialising as he stares at the now blank screen. He doesn’t let himself think too deeply about just who might have been laughing and talking with Amy in the kitchen just then. He shakes his head again. It doesn’t do to dwell on ghosts.

He tries again a week or so later. His timing is not much better. Anthony is a chubby toddler now. Running round and causing all sorts of havoc. He watches as Rory tries in vain to marshal him away from the Christmas tree with all the presents stashed under it. There was always a present for him when he’d visited before. Sometimes it was just a new pair of fancy socks or a packet of jammy dodgers. Other times it might be a new gadget or toy. He can recall at least one year River starting to get grumpy that he was paying more attention to his new yoyo than he was to her.

He lingers just a moment or two before tearing his gaze away and disappearing into the vortex.

His next attempt lands him a couple of years later. This time he’s landed in what looks like the local park. He can see Amy and Rory all bundled up and keeping a close eye on an energetic looking little boy of around four or five. He watches them as Rory chases Anthony, giggling like mad and wearing a woollen bobble hat that wobbles with every step he takes. He lets himself watch for a few minutes this time before feeling the familiar urge to wrench himself away bubbles up and he can’t take it any longer.

The pattern continues in a similar vein for a while. He tries to pilot the TARDIS to the correct year and each time she takes him just a little bit later on but not quite far enough. Always at Christmas time as well. He grumbles out loud and glares at the console but deep down he knows why she’s doing it. Just the thought of seeing the Ponds the first time had almost been enough to undo him. But by seeing bits of their life gradually, watching them as a family and how they’ve made the most of being in New York, maybe now he could face them?

Or maybe not? A part of him is still very tempted to just post the letter through their door and then run. He’s always been so good at running.

A couple of times during these visits, he’s caught sight of someone else in their house. There’s been a brief flash of golden curls at the edge of the room or a fleeting glimpse of a very familiar form disappearing through a door. He’s never seen her properly. He doesn’t think his fragile hearts would be able to cope. He can now just about stomach seeing the Ponds, but River? No, not yet. Maybe not ever?

He knows he’s getting close to the end of River’s visits. Anthony is a tall, gangly teenager now and on his last visit he overhears talk of him going to college the following year. He swallows heavily and quickly pilots the TARDIS away.

This time he stays away for a while. He’s busies himself with a university lecturing job and actually enjoys staying in one place. He’d never thought he’d be able to stomach the mundanity of a job but twenty-four years in one place has taught him the value of staying still. Well, for most of the time. His new companion, Bill, is wonderful and exactly what he needs. He puts a photo of River on his desk and even starts to talk about her. Just the occasional comment or remark. The first time he manages to say her name without choking, Nardole gives him a little nod of encouragement. He pretends not to notice and simply scowls to himself.

The TARDIS lands and he peers tentatively at the monitor. This time, he’s landed actually inside their house. He opens the door and finds himself inside a living room. He takes a few tentative steps inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. It’s a large room with several comfy looking armchairs and a sofa along one wall facing the fireplace. On the walls, alongside some art work, are framed copies of book covers. He moves closer and sees that they are books that Amy has published.

He looks at them for a few moments and then turns towards the mantel where there are a few framed photos placed amongst the few trinkets. There are a few of the three of them, a picture of Anthony in his high school graduation outfit and one of him as a cheeky toddler, his face covered in ice-cream as he beams at the camera. What draws his gaze though, is the photo in the middle of the mantelpiece. At first glance, it seems a little blurred and out of focus, as if the photographer had caught everyone slightly unawares. It’s obviously from a few years ago now in one of the local parks. Anthony is in the foreground feeding some ducks but it is the two people sat on the bench behind them that he stares at. River and Amy are sat side by side, unaware of the camera, an almost identical expression of delight on their faces as they laugh at a shared joke.

He reaches out a finger and traces it down the photo, a wistful smile curling his lips despite the lump in his throat.

“My Ponds,” he murmurs.

He lingers a moment or two before he shakes himself and turns towards the door. He walks out into the corridor, keeping an ear out all the time for anyone else in the house. It’s dark outside but it’s still early evening so he could easily encounter someone at any moment. There isn’t a sound to be heard though as he makes his way slowly down the corridor and into the kitchen.

He stops inside the doorway and stares at the dining table. He’s obviously arrived on Christmas Day again as the table bears the remnants of the festive meal with abandoned paper hats still scattered amongst the empty plates and dishes. What makes the breath catch in his throat though is not the festivities but the empty place, still set and unused, at the head of the table.

He swallows heavily as he stares at the still pristine crockery, River’s words reverberating in his head.

“If there’s an empty place, you’ll know it’s time.”

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the letter. The envelope is now worn and creased, the ink slightly faded from all the times he’s run his fingers over the words there.

He approaches the table and carefully sets the letter down, propped up against an empty wine glass so it will be seen by whoever next enters the room. A wave of nausea suddenly wells up out of nowhere and he abruptly feels the need to be very far away. He turns swiftly on his heel, meaning to head out the door as soon as possible but as soon as he does so he freezes.

Stood, leaning against the doorway, her arms folded and head tilted to one side with a slightly amused expression on her face, is his wife.

He opens his mouth but all the possible words suddenly fail him at that moment and he simply gapes at her. Her hair is down around her shoulders and she’s wearing a dark red dress with just a hint of a teasing neckline. She looks exactly as she had all those years ago when he’d last seen her on Darillium. She looks perfect.

“Well, I can’t say that’s the Christmas greeting I was hoping for from my husband this year,” River says after a few moments where he continues to stare open-mouthed at her.

“Christmas greeting? But you, you’re-? I mean-“

River raises one eyebrow as he finally manages to engage his brain enough to produce some words.

“Was any of that supposed to make sense, sweetie?”

He frowns at her as her lips quirk up in amusement and forces himself to say something comprehensible. “You know who I am?” he demands, “This face,” he points to himself, unable to stop the kernel of hope that rises inside him, “You know me?”

“The big blue box in my parents’ living room was a bit of a giveaway,” she says, nodding towards the other room and instantly that little bit of hope inside him dies. He’s too early again. He might even have to wipe this memory from her to preserve the timelines. “And the fact that you’re clearly trying to run off before anyone sees you.”

He watches her as she pushes off the doorframe and slowly walks towards him. There’s a lump in his throat as he silently curses the TARDIS in every possible language for bringing him here now.

“You fixed the time disturbances then,” she remarks as he nods silently, still watching her every movement.

She stops just out of arm’s reach and just looks at him, her gaze raking up and down before she nods towards the table.

“You’ve missed Christmas dinner.”

“Not really that hungry,” he says hoarsely, still staring at her, hoping she doesn’t glance down and see her own letter. She’ll recognise her own handwriting and will immediately guess why he might be delivering her parents such a letter.

“Pity,” River replies, a small smirk again playing around her lips, “Maybe I can entice you with dessert.”

He lets out a small huff of laughter despite himself and shakes his head at her. “You’re incorrigible.”

She smiles properly this time. “Thank you, sweetie.”

She glances towards the table and he sees her frown as he gaze falls on the envelope. He starts to panic. He clears his throat and says almost the first thing that comes into his head.

“Hang on, you said I missed Christmas dinner?”

She turns back to him with a small frown and nods. “Yes. We ate earlier. Mum, dad and Anthony have all gone for a walk.”

He shakes his head and turns to the table, gesturing to the other side. “No, but that’s not right. There’s your empty place there.”

She glances back at the table and then back to him, looking at him closely. “Oh, Doctor,” she sighs fondly, “Count the places. It’s not for me. It’s for you.”

“For me?”

She nods and then steps in towards him, reaching out a tentative hand to stroke a finger down his jacket lapel.

“They always lay a place for you. Remember?”

He shakes his head again and looks between River and the empty table place. His throat suddenly feels all dry, like he can’t swallow properly and there’s that small, tiny beacon of hope that’s lit up inside him again, that he doesn’t dare speak out loud but that won’t now go away.

“Just ask me, Doctor,” River says softly, cutting through his thoughts.

He stares at her as she looks up at him, a soft smile playing around her lips. His mouth still feels far too dry but he licks his lips and takes a deep breath.

“When are we, River?” he manages to choke out.

She stays where she is, one hand still idly playing with the buttons of his jacket. “Well, we’ve clearly done Manhattan because-,” she gestures vaguely at his face as he rolls his eyes at her prevaricating, “Then there was a bit of time apart, which I think was rather longer for you than me but-“

“River,” he growls, glaring at her as she raises her eyebrows innocently.

She moves in even closer to him, her lips now only inches from his. “Oh yes, well we did then have that rather wonderful twenty-four years together. How could I forget?”

His breath hitches. She’s done Darillium. Which must mean she’s either just before the Library or…

She pauses briefly, looking up at him and it’s so still he thinks he can hear his own hearts beating. “And then I had to spend rather too much time for my liking in a computer hard-drive before-“

She doesn’t get the chance to finish that sentence as he cuts her off. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her hard. Her mouth opens eagerly under his and she tastes exactly as he remembers. She’s here, she’s real, she’s in his arms and somehow she has escaped the Library. In his haze of happiness, he finally manages to tear his lips away from hers.

“How?” he rasps, his thumbs stroking over her cheeks reverently as she smiles up at him.

River simply shakes her head and presses herself closer to him. She leans in and before she kisses him again, she whispers what must be his new favourite iteration of this word.

“Spoilers!”

[bugsy-maria]

Tenth Doctor x Reader

(Y/N)'s POV

I sat on my bed waiting for my bad connection to just magically get better. The google meeting popped up and popped up with the, "Contact your system administrator for more information" screen again. I swear the hardest thing so far has been not getting a good enough internet connection. I groaned in frustration for the hundredth time this morning. The sounds of London's busy street sounded in the distance, the sound of cabbies being hauled coming from outside my window was less than distant though. My neighbor shot bullets at the wall earlier this morning causing me to wake up, but I think he went out on a case a while ago as it's too quiet in his flat. Ahh, the sounds of Baker Street never get old.

I live in a flat with my mother and brother, who are some of the hardest people to talk to I swear. I slammed my computer shut. I gripped locks of my hair and pulled, not too hard but just enough to let my stress out. My breath caught in my throat as I heard a noise. A noise that only a few words can describe. The first one to pop into my head is, 'whooping' but maybe 'mysterious' could work too. I looked to where the noise was coming from. My hands still tangled in my hair.

In the corner of my room, through my fingers, I saw a blue box that said 'police public call box'. It was one that I only saw in a television show I watched as a kid. TARDIS I think it was called. A time machine that could also take you anywhere in the universe. And, if im correct, this box comes with a man inside. Upon remembering my fascinations with this man and box, I leaped into the air and off my bed, causing me to hit the floor with a thud.

My feet captured within my covers. I Quickly untangle myself and stumbled across the floorboards. I stood up straight and dusted myself off as I stood in front of the tardis blue doors. I pushed on them, I was half expecting them to be locked. Once opened, I looked inside with amazement, It looked different than what I remember. I saw a man in the center, at the control panel. I stepped in, and as soon as I did the TARDIS started to shake. I fell to the ground, and I fell hard.

"Finally!" a shout from the man came. I shakingly pushed myself up. I stood up leaning against the railing.

"Huh, so it is real." the astonishment got more and more prominent toward the end of the sentence. The man quickly turned around. I let go of the railing and continued looking at the scenery.

"What are you doing in here?!"

"What were you doing in my room?" I questioned and started walking to the middle, where the man of my fantasies stood.

"It was an accident."

"Then me being here is also an accident," I stated. My hand guiding on the rail around the console.

"Don't touch anything!" he shouted as he ran up to me and moved me to sit on the companion seat.

"I'm tacking you back home."

"No!" I shouted, "There's still so many things I need to see, doctor!" I pleaded while I landed on the holey ground. This has been my dream from when I was a kid, and there was no way an 800-year-old alien was gonna take that away from me.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, getting his screwdriver out from the inside pocket in his suit coat.

"Oh please, it's not your name it's your title. And I know that because you're on the telly sometimes. Though I don't know which generation you are." I spoke knowingly yet curious.

"Tenth, im taking you home." "But-"

"Now." his stern voice roared (RAWR X3 nuzzles pounces on you UwU you're so warm) and his stern face glared in my direction. I slumped back into the companion's seat with a torn look sketched onto my face. I hear him click and bang a couple of things before resting one hand on the panel and the other lost within his locks.

"So does that mean I can stay?" I asked hopefully.

"Absolutely not. once I get her fixed, you're going back where you came from," he said while grabbing a red toolbox from the ground and walking to the other side of the shining teal pillar, and hopping through the rails. I bounced up off the chair and to the doors. "Don't you open those doors!" he shouted.

of course, I didn't listen, I mean why would I? this is a once in a lifetime experience. I swung the doors open and saw a scene that I couldn't put into words. but I'll try. the ground was a reddish-orange colour and the sky a bright green with a red sun-like object resting over the horizon. the terrain was mountainous. in the distance, I saw something that looked like a village. I closed the doors behind me and ran. it was a good minute or two before I reached where the village was.

the streets were decorated in star-designed banners and were crowded with aliens of different species buying things that went along with the star/space theme. I continued to squeeze my way through the people. I saw a line leading to a stadium. wanting to know what was in there I quickly joined. the wait wasn't nearly as long as the line so I got in pretty quick.

I took a seat and saw the sky had changed into a dark purple. I saw billions of stars, hundreds of galaxies, and so many nebulas I couldn't count them. my jaw dropped at the most beautiful sight.

"There you are, I told you-" I looked at the voice and saw the doctor. I knew that he was going to be mad at me but I was too happy to care. "Why are you crying?" he asked, taking a seat next to me. my head tilted as I moved my hand up to my face, and sure enough, I felt tears.

"I'm just so happy I guess," I said with a closed-eyed smile. I looked back up to the stars, ever since I was a kid all I wanted to do was travel the stars before my dad died whenever there was a meteor shower or the milky way could be seen or even when you could see the planets in the night sky, we would always go to the middle of nowhere and camp to see the stars in all of there glory.

"They're just stars." I heard the doctor say, in the corner of my eye I could see him staring up at them too.

"They may be stars to you but to me, this is my childhood dream come true." I said with a large smile. " you know how I said you would be on a show in the telly? I would stay awake all night dreaming of the day that you would pop up in my room and id run away from my life and see the stars with you. that's why I didn't want to go back home." I looked at him through teary eyes, "I just wanted to see the stars and galaxies and all of the nebulas up close. to travel the stars just like my dad wanted." I smiled so wide while tears streamed down my face fast and into my mouth. he looked at me and gave me a one-armed hug, pulling me close to him.

we stayed like that for hours, watching the stars. he pointed at them and told me the name and stories of each one, along with the planets beyond them. I fell asleep on his shoulder and woke up in one of the rooms in the TARDIS. I was surprised that I was even there still. I was sure that he would have brought me home by now.

I got up from the bed and quickly put on my shoes, and walked out to the console room.

"Oh! Good you're up!" he jumped up and down, "So where to now! I heard that the planet Hat-P-7b is in rain season this time of year, oh or we could even go to J1407b, they have amazing crapes, though they don't call it crapes..." he went on and on about the planets we could go to. to say the least, I was happy. too happy that I was scared it was a dream. "So, where to?" he asked, leaning forward waiting for my answer.

"Somewhere amazing," I said with a smile, excited for the adventures that I was going to have with this man.

[that-homoerotic-blouse]

Donna awoke with a frown and the hum of a song ringing in her ears.

She had never been the kind of person to turn a blind eye and ignore an inconvenience (her neighbours knew this well, when they decided to drill together that horrid IKEA furniture one Wednesday evening and she appeared on their doorstep with her arms crossed and her deadly glare), and faithful to her principles, she got up.

Immediately she felt something in her stomach starting to boil because who the hell thought it was a good idea to give a fucking symphonic concert at 2am, do you think this is the Royal Albert Hall or something? And she was more than ready to slap her palm across Ziggy Stardust’s face and send him straight into his next regeneration if it was necessary.

The diabolical tune grew louder as she walked through the lengthy corridor, and Donna bristled and fumed. However, when she finally turned the corner to the console room and her hands were about to occupy their usual spot on her hips, something stopped her in her tracks.

She found them there.

She should’ve guessed he wasn’t alone; he was never alone these days.  

Oh.

They were dancing.

Or something like it.

Because there was barely any space between them and they stood so close that they were stepping over each other’s feet, but they didn’t seem to mind one bit. Because they swayed in a lazy, vague motion that hardly matched the rhythm at all. Because their eyes were closed and the hands were burrowed deep, clutching the fabric of his suit and her jacket. Because it was the sort of embrace she had only seen in cheesy films and cheap soaps that would make her roll her eyes away with annoyance. Because it was clear that the music was just a petty excuse and the dancing a farce. And because, to top it all off, for the most unfathomable of reasons, neither of them was wearing shoes.  

The sight brought a smile to her face, of all things. And she would never admit it to herself, but her frown softened just a bit. Her hand fell to her sides, and whatever anger that had been building up inside her died out like a candle.

It was an old song. Very old. It reminded her of long dresses and black and white Hollywood musicals, from the forties or fifties. Glenn Miller or Benny Goodman or something like that. It was one she was sure to have listened to somewhere, somewhen, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint the time nor the place. Her gramps would’ve known; he would love it. Probably there had been an evening, long ago, out in the hill, with his modern telescope and his archaic radio, when these very tunes had started to sound, filling the winter air, and he had fiddled shakily with the knobs and turned up the volume with his face alight with the excitement of a child at Christmas. Donna, listen! This, this is a classic! And he had probably told her the title, but she found she couldn’t quite remember.

It was beautiful nonetheless.

Even the buzzes and whirrs of the TARDIS seemed to have dimmed down in favour of the music.

Cheeky ship.

The song kept on playing and the dancers were all left feet. What a pair. And then, in an almost unnoticeable shift, she raises her head from his shirt and mutters something that the melody leaves clouded and obscure, and Donna can’t make out the words. But inexplicably, wonderfully, he throws back his head in laughter and she joins until they’re stifling the laughs on each other’s shoulder. And there it is again, that light. It’s only in rare occasions that she’s seen it, but there’s no mistaking that it’s there, in his eyes. Time slows down when the Doctor smiles, and right now the whole universe frozen, every planet and star still on its axis. Like a photograph.

Long time no see.

And Donna still doesn’t know much about her—only that her name is Rose and she lived in South London and that she’s been gone for a long time—but already she has no doubts: she’s bloody amazing.

She gave one last look at the scene: God, they were awful and sappy and embarrassing to watch, and they were beaming.

And as Donna headed back to her room, the hum of the melody didn’t quite bother her half as much as before. In fact, she found she didn’t mind at all.  

***

For the prompt “dancing” of Timepetalsweek :)

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. LXXXII

It was a love story from the very beginning.

Is Not Allowed (Part III)

(12x10 c)

Hello everyone! And look what Yockey made me do! A third part of his episode! 🤣

But this is the last part from 12x10, and I will throw here the Sacred Oath again, and the transference Ishim makes while talking about 'human weakness'.

Cas is family and is more than that for Dean

So, when Ishim and Cas finish their story about Lily, Dean and Sam feel they can talk and reason with this woman.

SAM: We're here to talk, that's it. We come in peace. Just hear us out. We heard what happened to your family.

LILY: My family?

DEAN: See, Cas is our family, so we can't let you hurt him.

Dean continues placing Cas in that spot, because is the top place he has. But we all know he feels different about him, that's why when they discovered the truth, and who Ishim is, the worrisome in Dean's face alerts Sam, who let his brother go to save Castiel.

Is extremely important the disrespectful way Ishim talks about Cas and his relationship with the Winchesters. Because Ishim sees any kind of relationship with humans as a weakness. He transfers his own fears and ideas to Cas, because he sees in Cas his own relationship with Lily, but he deeply is envying the bond Cas reached with Dean, because he couldn't achieve it with Lily.

ISHIM: The way you let those simians talk to you... Castiel, when did you get so gooey? You know why we're meant to stay away from them humans? Hmm? It's not because we're a danger to them. They're a danger to us. Case in point.

Here we have a parallel with Sam and Dean saying to Cas why he let the angels to talk to him so mean. But also, Ishim is pointing humans like danger, why? Because his experience with Lily make him have strong feelings, he even got obsessed with the woman. Is a toxic mirror of what Destiel is.

CAS: Well, my friendship with Sam and Dean has made me stronger.

ISHIM: You can't really believe that.

Castiel is sure he's much better after knowing the Winchesters, and he will repeat these words in episode 12x12 in the barn, because the truly believe this, but to Ishim, have feelings for human, mostly for one particular human, romantic feelings, as he felt for Lily, makes you weak. Because he feels that way. He feels weak because of that strong feeling inside of him. Because Ishim relationship with Lily were sick and Cas and Dean is not.

Human Weakness

The way Dean approached Cas, is showing us he's not mad at him anymore. He was conciliation. The ways he places his hand on Castiel's shoulder, is supportive and protective. Because Cas is family, and more than that.

And the words he says to Ishim, about his relationship with Cas, are priceless. It shows the huge difference between Destiel and Ishim with Lily.

ISHIM: Who are you gonna believe? Your brother, or some filthy ape who's always talking down to you, always mocking you.

DEAN: You know, Cas and I might not agree all the time, but at least he knows who his real friends are.

Beautiful, you know why? Because Dean is using the word 'I', is this a kind of apologies? Yes it is! And again, Castiel chooses Dean.

Then we have the pivotal Destiel scene...

ISHIM: You survived Hell. You were chosen by God. But now look at you. You're just sad and pathetically weak.

Why is Castiel weak at the sight of Ishim's eyes? Because he knows he fell in love with a human too, just like him. Transference.

ISHIM: So now... I'm gonna help you. I'm gonna cure you of your human weakness same way I cured my own– by cutting it out.

Gif set credit @godshipsit 👇

And is not surprise, he was talking about Dean, because he approaches him slowly, blandished his angel blade, looking straight to Dean. And now, is time for Dean to choose Castiel. (If this is not romantic, idk what it is guys.)

DEAN: Don't move.

ISHIM: Do it. You blast me away, you'll blast away every angel in the room. I'll survive. Castiel, on the other hand, he's hurt. He might live or he might just end up a bloody smear on the wall. Roll the dice.

Gif set credit @inacatastrophicmind 👇

And Dean lows his hand. *SOBBING*

The Touch

Before talking about the way Dean touched Castiel's shoulder in the last scene, let's talk about this...

CAS: I truly can't imagine the depths of your loss. This was your child. I can't imagine the pain. So if you leave here and you find that you can't forgive me... I'll be waiting.

What a way to place a foreshadow here, as I said, Yockey is the one writing a guide for the entire Destiel plot and the most important incoming topics. Castiel will be able to feel what to be a father is, it will be part of his arc. And in an episode in which we talked about WEAKNESS AND NEPHILIM, WE ARE SHOWN HOW ONE CHILD (JACK) WILL MAKE CASTIEL STRONGER.

Now, time to scream about Destiel...

Gif credit @rosewhipped22 👇

Look at this gif... They're back in the bunker and is time to console Castiel, because he had a hard day. So Dean brings him a beer. But... Look at his hand. He touches Castiel's shoulder, but then he carresses it, looking away!!!! He's looking away because what he's doing feels huge inside of him, he is touching the angel not in a brotherly way, not in a platonic way at all, he's being subtle about his feelings towards Cas!!! So have a beer, buddy, and here have a nice touch. Because Dean needed it. He needed to show Cas, even if is in this subtle way, he cares about him, he cares A LOT, about him.

Okay, I'm done with this episode.

To Conclude:

Ishim's transfers into Cas his weakness and his relationship with Lily, a human.

But the huge difference between them and Destiel is, Dean and Cas love each other, even if sometimes they fight, they love each other, and that love makes them stronger.

Hope you like this one, see you in the next meta!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weird-dorky-little-deana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @authorsararayne @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@destielle @agusvedder @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis @superduckbatrebel @2musiclover2 @nickelkit @anon-non2 @cea1996

If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know.

If you want to read the previous metas from season 12, here you have the links...

Vol. LXXV, LXXVI, LXXVII, LXXVIII, LXXIX, LXXX, LXXXI.

Buenos Aires, October 4th 2020 9:30 PM