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denimbex1986 · 5 months

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'Say what you want: David Tennant is one of the best Doctors of modern Who. Ever since he strolled into the Tardis for the first time in his pyjamas (it's a long story), he has captivated audiences and arguably (under the showrunning command of Russell T Davies) helped make Doctor Who the international success is it today.

Part of it, of course, is down to Tennant's amazing acting range. From fury to playfulness, we got the full gamut during his time as Doctor - but in the interests of whittling them down, we've picked some of his best moments here. Enjoy.

Meeting Donna again – Partners in Crime

Both Tennant and Catherine Tate really get to show off their comedy chops in this episode. After first appearing in the 2006 special The Christmas Bride, Donna and the Doctor end up running into each other again when both start investigating the obviously evil Adipose Industries (yes, they’re aliens).

Mouthing words at each other from opposite sides of an office window, the wordless comedy is on point, Tennant’s confusion is priceless and their energy gels perfectly: an auspicious start to the new season.

Time Lord Victorious – The Waters of Mars

Sometimes, the Doctor bites off more than he can chew; nowhere more so than in ultra-horror special The Waters of Mars. As evil sentient water wreaks soggy havoc and kills members of a Martian research station one by one, the Doctor is forced to watch helplessly because it’s a nexus event – i.e. a moment in the timeline that can’t be changed. Until, that is, he stops caring and rescues the last member of the research station - only for her to commit suicide.

It’s a shocking moment and Tennant sells the whole thing utterly as the weary, battle-worn Doctor who ultimately tells the Tardis: “I’ve overreached myself.”

Sarah-Jane returns – School Reunion

One for the classic Doctor Who fans: the Doctor’s companions always leave, but just sometimes, they get to come back. School Reunion marked Elisabeth Sladen’s return to the Whoniverse after more than two decades as fan favourite Sarah-Jane Smith, who (as it turns out) has become somewhat of a mini-Doctor in her own right. Everything about this scene is gold: the Doctor’s simple introduction (“Hello, Sarah-Jane”), her sudden realisation of who he is, Tennant’s giddy grin, and their reminiscing about the old times. Chef’s kiss.

John Smith is the Doctor – Family of Blood

Family of Blood is one of the more out-there Who episodes. On the run from a mysterious family of aliens, the Doctor traps his Time Lord essence in a pocket watch and starts a new life without his memories, living happily as “John Smith” the literary professor.

He even ends up in a relationship – so imagine his horror when he is told that John Smith isn’t real, and that he has to give up his life (aka restore his memories as the Doctor, thus making him a completely different person) in order to save the school from the supernatural horrors plaguing it. Even though John Smith only appears for one episode, he makes an impression, especially with his anguish towards the end of the episode.

The Doctor and Rose are separated – Doomsday

This devastating scene happens at the end of Tennant’s first season as the Doctor, when Rose is dragged into a parallel universe and the two are separated forever. Or so they think!

It’s not just the heartbreaking scene where the pair realise they’re stranded on opposite sides of the massive white wall that serves as a portal between dimensions (sob) but their final goodbye in Bad Wolf Bay, where Ten tells her he’s burning up an entire sun to say goodbye. Tennant is acting his heart out, the puppy dog eyes are working overtime. Those who don’t want it and end up crying have hearts of stone.

“Did you miss me?” - The Christmas Invasion

Tennant’s Doctor spends most of his first episode trapped in a deep slumber after a traumatic regeneration. As the warlike Sycorax attempt to take over the planet, Rose puts him in the Tardis with a flask full of tea… which magically revives him. Strolling nonchalantly into the heart of the war operation armed with nothing but a satsuma, he winks at her and asks, “Did you miss me?” And in no time at all, it’s as if he never went away.

Possessed by Cassandra – New Earth

Few would argue that New Earth is one of the best Doctor Who episodes, but there’s one thing it does get right: when Ten gets possessed by the malicious sentient trampoline (yes, really) Cassandra. It’s a golden opportunity to Tennant to showcase his comedy chops. “Two hearts!” he crows. “Oh, baby, I’m beating out a samba!” In fact, he was so good he reportedly had co-star Billie Piper in fits of giggles throughout.

Timey-wimey – Blink

Who’d have thunk it: the most iconic Who episode ever is the one where the Doctor hardly appears. Zapped back in time by the Weeping Angels, the only way he can communicate with modern-day protagonist Sally Sparrow (Carey Mulligan) is via pre-recorded video tape. This is the episode that coined the phrase ‘wibbly wobbly, time-wimey’ that are now common Who parlance. Plus, while it’s hard to be charismatic through a grainy TV screen, he manages it.

The Master dies – Last of the Time Lords

Though Derek Jacobi was the first person to play the Master since the show’s reboot (what a catch), John Simm was the one who made the role his own. After capturing the Doctor, he transformed the Earth into an ultra-capitalist hellscape. When his comeuppance finally arrives, he’s shot by Martha’s mum Francine (Adjoa Andoh) but in one final act of spite, he refuses to regenerate, leaving the Doctor completely alone. The closing shots of him sobbing over his old rival’s body are gut-wrenching.

Goodbye Donna – Journey’s End

The scene that spawned a thousand memes: Sad Doctor In The Rain. After successfully saving the world (yet again) it turns out that Donna (who has sort-of merged with the Doctor’s DNA in order to save them all; another long story) is going to die unless she has her memory wiped. That means removing any trace at all of the Doctor. She pleads and begs to try and prevent it, but it’s no good – and that parting shot of him leaving her for ever is haunting. Sad eyes for days.

The Doctor regenerates – The End of Time (Part 2)

It’s the big’un. David Tennant plays a blinder in his last-ever episode as the Doctor who has lost his way: alternately raging, terrified, and accepting of his fate. His last swansong - revisiting all his companions, checking in that they're doing okay - is sweetly touching, and of course his final words, "I don't want to go," are delivered with such gusto that they elicit all the emotions. Every single time.'

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antimony-medusa · 2 years

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Okay I haven’t slept enough and the discussion has popped up like seven times on my dash so I’m just gonna say this.

Butchers Army’s actions were absolutely reasonable and logical responses to a perceived threat. Tracking you there. However, that does not mean that hunting down a non-citizen of your nation and (attempting to) execute them without recon (to ascertain if they are still a threat) and without trial (a baseline expectation of a justice system) is not a violent act and an abuse of power.

#it was either an atrocious travesty of Justice #or what it more practically was— an act of war against a foreign nation #which then logically leads to doomsday as you have both sides saying *i can’t live while you survive*#Logical and reasonable absolutely #but you can’t just grab people and try to kill them in your position as a government and escape the sinning accusations #everybody in this bar has done war crimes #does this count as discourse?#butchers army neg?#i never know how to tag things #to be clear I am a Machiavellian bitch and I assure you I am tracking with why butchers army #but you don’t get to do that and keep the moral high ground

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mockvangelical · 1 year

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On the same frequency. God speaks. Everything’s fine.

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theauras · 1 year

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every second closer i get to seeing Shidou my power doubles each second

This site will be unusable by tomorrow 😈

#I will bring the entirety of the goddamn internet down with me #There will be HEADLINES #streets will NOT BE READY 😻#FIRES ARE GONNA BE IGNITING PEOPLE ARE GONNA GO ON RAMPAGE EXPLOSIONS PROPERTY DAMAGE #HELICOPTERS AMBULANCES WEE WOO WEE WOO WE ARE REPORTING LIVE FRIM THE CRIME SCENE #GET READY FOR A RALLY IN THE STREETS BOYS ‼️‼️‼️#Doomsday is upon you all #Funny bc I literally had a dream last night abt the apocalypse #I am the bomb in “as the world caves in” it’s me #I’m the atom bomb #auras thirsts!<3 #blue lock #shidou ryusei #bllk #bllk shidou #blue lock anime #blue lock shidou

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sovamurka · 1 year

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Satan: *compares Azik to Judas*

Me: *starts whistling the tune of Judas by Lady Gaga*

#I'm sorry XD #it was a very dramatic and traumatic moment for them but I just couldn't help myself #I mean technically everyone in that room was Judas:#Satan betrayed God. Demian betrayed humanity for Galina. Nelly betrayed Satan and framed Azik for her crimes to protect her future son.#and Azik betrayed Satan for humanity he loves so much.#which is exactly how they punish him - they make him human so he would feel all the pain with his entire being.#AND HE DOES.#doomsday (2022)#конец света (2022)

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get-along-little-khornedoggie · 1 month

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So the thing about c!Technoblade (I say, as if there is only one thing) but one thing about him that always sticks with me is the choice of his codename in the Syndicate.

Because at first glance, Protesilaus was the first bloodthirsty stab-happy warrior off the boat in the Trojan War, eager for battle, unheeding of death, which is one way to view c!Techno's character (how many times did characters view him as a resource or a weapon before or even after Doomsday, where he was literally screaming, "I'M A PERSON!").

And at second glance, he’s a willing martyr, who knew about the prophecy that the first man to land at Troy would be the first to die, and would rather it was him than his friends, which is another way to view him, one that seems closer to who he actually is ("leave Phil alone, just take me!", anyone?).

But c!Technoblade chose his name without ever abandoning his catchphrase of "Technoblade never dies", which is what sticks with me -- because he didn't just state that he'd die for his friends and leave it at that. He promised to protect them and to live for them.

Protesilaus is destined to be the first of his comrades to die by immovable fate, but also Technoblade never dies, which means that none of his comrades will, either.

He made it a promise. "I won’t die, therefore the gods will have no choice but to let all my friends live."

By something as simple as choosing a name, c!Technoblade (who for months was wary of identifying who his friends even were, especially after what the Butcher Army did to Philza, whose only crime was being his friend) told everyone in the Syndicate that if harm came to them, it would be because he was already dead, and that he never intended to let either of those things happen.

#technoblade #c!techno #the syndicate #welcome to my blog where i lie awake at night wondering who harpocrates was #and how one man turned a boastful gamer dude catchphrase into a declaration of protection for his friends and im very soft about it

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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

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Make You Wish Chapter Two -- Where Is She

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: really super mild versions of cannon violence.

Word count: 2,072

Previous Part: Make You Wish Chapter One -- Seven Years

Master list link:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I accidentally posted this before I was ready tooo ahhhh!!! it's fine. Everything was already written I just had to format it properly and stuff.

Alastor had been at the Hazbin Hotel for only a few days and was already enjoying his time there greatly. It was an entertaining place, to say the least, and now that he had his feet under him, he was intent on making it even more so.

Charlie was pacing around the sitting room, stressed beyond belief. She had gone to speak to Adam the previous day to try and get his support for her plan, only to wind up with the news that the next extermination was coming in six moths, rather than the usual twelve. Alastor watched her duress in amusement as he sauntered into the hotel lobby, side stepping Angel, Charlie, and Vaggie to take a seat at the bar.

"It's nothing we can't handle," Charlie was explaining, trying to convince herself as much as anyone else in the room, "just angels cutting our timetable in half. But who needs a whole year to save souls? Am I right? And next time, when they cut the time in half again and again, we'll just handle it, right?!"

Vaggie got to her feet, grabbing her girlfriend by the shoulders and stopping her from her relentless pacing.

"Yes, we will." she confirmed.

"Oh please," Angel cut in from the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone, "ya had less than half a chance when you started all this salvation bullshit. And now...? Ain' no silver lining this time, toots."

"Sure there is." Charlie turned to him, "We just have to look a little harder for it."

"Well, while you're lookin', the rest of Hell is going nuts."

Angel turned his phone to Charlie, showing all the news headlines of terror he'd pulled up.

"People are already freaking out about the news. Look at what's happening in the Doomsday District."

He scrolled down to a video of a burning town just as a text notification popped up.

"Uh, what is a 'donkey show'?" Charlie asked in confusion, having read the text.

"Ah, heh, nothing." Angel pulled the phone from her line of sigh, trying to come up with a quick lie, "My boss, Val, is just freaked out about the news too. Like I said, everyone's losing their shit."

"Yeah, that is true." Vaggie hummed thoughtfully, a hand to her chin, "Sinners are desperate. Maybe desperate enough to try anything to escape extermination?"

"Speaking of sinners," Alastor said, drawing the attention in the room to him as he turned towards Husk who was busying cleaning glasses, "I think it's time I look up my old partner in crime."

"And what do I have to do with that?" the cat demon gruffly replied, not sparing Alastor a glance.

"Your partner in crime?" Charlie asked, taking a step towards the bar, "I always thought you... you know, worked alone?"

Alastor's grin widened.

"Oh never you mind, dear." he replied, throwing her a glance over his shoulder, "Just a lost soul I'm acquainted with is all."

"Yeah. You've been trying to get her to sell you that soul for what, the past seventy years is it now?" Husk scoffed.

Alastor's eye twitched slightly at the implication of his failure.

"If I wanted it, I would have it." he hummed threateningly, and Husk backed down.

"That's great!" Charlie exclaimed, "So she's a friend of yours? Do you think she'd help with the hotel? Oh! Or maybe that she'd want to be a guest?!"

"Charlie-" Vaggie began but Alastor quickly cut her off.

"I don't see a harm in asking." he cheerily replied.

"And you know her, Husk?" Charlie asked.

He looked up as he placed a clean glass on the shelf, shooting Alastor a glance before nodding.

"Do you think she'd be a good fit?"

He sighed, crossing his arms as Husk turned to face Charlie fully.

"She's a sweetheart, I think you'd get along well." he admitted, "But she's trouble, just like him."

Husk gestured towards Alastor and Charlie's smile widened.

"Well, with all Alastor has done for us so far, I think we could probably use more trouble like him."

"Oh you flatter me." Alastor waved her off, looking away in a false show of humility.

"No really." Charlie insisted, "You-"

"Show yourself, Alastor!" a dramatic call cut Charlie off mid thought.

----

"Um. Alastor?" Charlie hesitantly began, peeking out from behind his shoulder as she watched the havoc he was wreaking on the snake shaped sinner, "I think he's had enough."

Alastor cackled joyfully, not even watching as his shadows destroyed the air ship.

"Nah, he's got a few more hits in 'im." Angle disagreed, enjoying the show immensly.

The shadows tilted the ship forward, dropping Sir Pentious out through the broken windshield. He hit the ground with a thud, right before Alastor's feet. Stopping in his fit of laughter, he looked down at the man, spinning his microphone like a baton.

"Thanks for another forgettable experience." he teased as one of the egg creatures fell from the ship, splattering on the ground beside Charlie who took a step away.

"Thank... you..." Sir Pentious began, his voice pained as he raised his head slowly, "for letting your guard down!"

Almost before Alastor could register what was happening, the snake had grabbed onto his coat with his tail and torn a piece from its hem. Alastor took a menacing step forward, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh shit." Pentious' triumphant laughter died out.

Slowly, Alastor sprouted a pair of shadowy horns. With a snap of his finger, the ground under the snake detonated, throwing him up into the air and far away from the hotel with a scream. He watched as Pentious flew away, retracting his horns and standing with a hand behind his back. Once the snake was out of sight, he at last turned to Charlie and Angel, as well as Husk and Vaggie who had come out to join them.

"Well, it looks as thought I need a visit to the tailor." he hummed, "Husk?"

"Yeah?" Husk grunted.

"Where did you say she was again?"

"I didn't."

Husk crossed his arms defensively and Alastor took a step towards him, his smile a little smaller than normal. There was an odd air between the two of them, a tension every one present could feel biting into their skins.

"Whats that?" Alastor asked lowly, his head cocked slightly to the side.

Husk sighed.

"Last I heard she was working for some imp in Pentagram City." Husk reluctantly admitted, looking away, "As an assassin or something, I don't know the details."

"An imp, you say." Alastor thoughtfully replied, his expression unreadable.

"Look, Alastor." Husk turned back to his master, "Don't fuck this up for her. She seemed pretty happy last time I saw her. You disappearing like that wrecked the poor girl."

"Just means she'll be all the more happy to see me."

Alastor turned, beginning to walk away. At the sound of Husk speaking again, he paused, keeping his back to the quartet.

"Alastor, ju-"

Alastor turned his head, shooting Husk a critical look over his shoulder. It shut the cat demon up almost immedeatly.

"Best of luck, chums!"

"Wait, you're leaving?" Vaggie exclaimed, taking a step forward.

Irritation prickling beneath his skin, Alastor turned back to them once again. It had been seven years, he didn't know how much longer he could wait. Sure, he'd had time in Hell on his own, nearly twenty years of it. He didn't need her per-say, she just made things more interesting, more enjoyable. It just felt odd for them to be parted.

Sure, when they had first met, he had thought she was just an easy steal of a soul. Young, naive, frankly undeserving in his opinion of eternal damnation. But smart, smarter than she looked. Y/n had refused any and all deals with the man and so, he had taken it as a challenge. What had begun as a game: Alastor trying to gain ownership of Y/n's soul ended up as an after-life long friendship.

Alastor would never admit it to anyone but, in his absence, he had even missed Y/n the smallest bit. She kept things interesting, he told himself, that was all. Always causing discreet mischief, always quick with a joke. A true pleasure to have on the show, as he always used to say.

"Alastor, we need your help. We need you to do your job." Vaggie continued.

"We need a wall." Angel finished for her, gesturing to the portion of the hotel Sir Pentious had destroyed in his attack.

"Of course." Alastor replied, keeping an irritated remark at bay, "Can't let my new project fall into disrepair already. What would the papers say?"

With a snap of his fingers, minions made of shadows pulled themselves from the ground at his feet. So as not to give anyone another chance to stall him further, he quickly turned on his heel and walked off.

Alastor was a man of image, he kept his pace slow and firm. Couldn't have any of them getting any ideas in their heads about the nature of his relationship with Y/n. That had always been trouble in the old days. The minute people saw the pair together, they started assuming things. He had already decided he was going to be more careful about that this time around and this was the first step.

There was a slight bounce in his step as he headed into the city's center, an odd anticipation fluttering in his chest. Alastor pushed it to the side. It was simply the thrill of being back in his old stomping ground that was to blame. It didn't matter he'd already been back a few days and it should have worn off by now, he should just feel lucky to still be so entertained by this place he'd known longer than he'd even been alive. Right?

----

Y/n was sitting at Blitzo's desk, reading through paperwork he had neglected to fill out or file correctly. It wasn't like any one in Hell really payed their taxes, but the mess still stressed her out. She let out a sigh, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her eyes in irritation. She had never had to do this type of work before, not since she'd been alive anyways. How the times had changed.

Noise of Blitzo and Moxxie fighting filtered in through the closed door. It wasn't anything special, anything new. The pair were always at one another's throats, she wasn't worried. What would be worrying, was if things were quiet. This was just the way life sounded now: inelegant and brazen. Nothing like it used to.

The buzzing of her phone on the desk beside her pulled Y/n from her reveries and she picked it up. The collar lay heavy around her neck as she read the message. Y/n had made some bad choices along the way, figuring out how to be on her own. She wasn't pleased with them, but it was what she had had to do. Back then, she hadn't had the need to fight for herself in over sixty years. It was the only thing she could think to do.

She double tapped the text, marking it with a thumbs up before shutting her phone off and leaning her head down on the table. There was no point in wishing for things to be different than they were but, it was just that time of year and the text had pushed her over the edge. A few stray tears trickled out of her eyes.

"Goddamnit, Al." she sighed into the empty room, "Where the hell are you."

Silence pressed its hands against her ears, blurring her perception of the world around her. Y/n had a few seconds, a few nearly peaceful moments before, again, her thoughts were interrupted. This time, not by her phone but by Blitzo calling for her from the other room.

"Y/n!" he yelled and she lifted her head off the table.

"Yeah?" she called back through the closed door.

"Get your ass out here!"

"Why? A client? Can't you handle it?"

"Y/n!" he insisted again, a sense of urgency to his voice.

If this was anything less than an absolute emergency, he was never going to hear the end of it. She was not in the mood for his games today.

"Fine." she groaned and pulled herself from the chair, "I'm coming."

----

Next Part -> Chapter Three -- A Reunion

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ilhoonftw · 2 years

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idk book of job traumatized me... a god that can take everything for you??? and you're supposed to be grateful?? his family was wiped out in the name of a .. bet ?? also. job being the go to saint for doomsday preppers type of guys who do unforgiveable things to their families in name of 'saving them'

#there was this guy in poland who built a house that would trap his family if set on fire #and guess what #most true crime podcasts ignore the doomsday angle and how he was obssesed with book of job #the whole case is horrific

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWO

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni, eddie is especially mean in this one (be warned), mentions of blood (in metaphors, not literal)

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 4k+

→ a/n: i just wanted to take a quick moment to say thank you for all the love on the first chapter of this!! i appreciate it beyond words <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

2:00 ─ㅇ───────────────── 24:00

HOUR TWO - 5:00 PM

It’s a miracle. Eddie is surprisingly quiet for the first hour after your small kitchen dispute.

He resides reading a book on one end of his couch as you sit awkwardly on the other end, fiddling with your hands before finally caving and deciding to scroll mindlessly on your phone. You exhaust every social media app you have downloaded – Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr – before finally turning to Tik Tok. Adjusting your volume doesn’t even cross your mind.

That’s all it takes to finally set Eddie off.

It starts small; he shifts around after the first video, a prolonged sigh after the second video, a quick side-eye after the third video. Finally, after the fourth video and no sign of you turning down the volume, he huffs and snaps his book shut.

“Do you have to watch that shit so loudly?”

His tone is laden with utter annoyance. You’re caught off guard initially, having blatantly ignored his previous signs of being irritated by the noise, and your head whips up in his direction with wide eyes. The shocked look on your face quickly contorts when you catch his stare, full of hatred and vexation.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you scoff, “Let me just die of boredom I guess.”

“I didn’t say you had to do that,” he narrows his gaze and matches your attitude with ease, “Just… solve the boredom quietly. Like I did.”

“You were quiet because you had a book. I don’t have a book.”

He waves an exasperated hand towards the coffee table where you catch sight of a few magazines, “Please, take your pick.”

You lock your phone reluctantly, tucking it beneath your thigh as you lean forward to glance over your options. There’s one about cars, obvious by the shiny vehicle that sits pretty on the cover, and a few hidden beneath it. You reach out and shift the laminated papers about and catch sight of a Rolling Stone cover.

That one piques your interest, but stubborn as ever, you won’t admit it.

“Those are the most boring fucking magazines I’ve ever seen. Who the hell likes to read about cars?” you deadpan, holding the car magazine up with a scowl.

“Me.”

“Predictable. What’s next, a Playboy?”

“You’re hilarious,” he says without a hint of amusement, “Truly a comedian. Can’t you just see the tears streaming out of my eyes from how hard I’m laughing? Incredible.”

You decide to not entertain him any further. Your hand grabs the Rolling Stone magazine, ignoring his burning gaze before you settle back into the couch.

If he wanted to be a dick, that was fine. You were used to it by now; you’d spent the last year growing accustomed to his cold shoulders and his bitter moods around you. At this point, you expected nothing less from him. Spending a little extra time together didn’t magically change it – at both your cores, you harbored a disdain like no other. You fundamentally hated Eddie, and Eddie fundamentally hated you. The confined space, forced proximity, ticking doomsday clock, and promise of cash did nothing to put any notches in those feelings.

“Interesting choice,” he murmurs under his breath, beginning to relax back into the cushions as well.

“What? Is it a crime for me to like-” you pause, flipping the magazine shut to check the slick cover for what the specific issue was even about, “-The Ramones?”

So maybe saying you liked The Ramones was an overstatement. But at this point, you’re only picking a fight for the sake of picking a fight. Because you don’t know how else to communicate with Eddie aside from with a sharp tongue and turbulent sense of sarcasm. Because when it came to the two of you, there was no such thing as small talk.

Everything was always big. Loud. Screaming matches, bold assumptions, critical insults.

“Pump the bitch breaks,” his eyebrows furrow, as they always do when he glances your way, “I was trying to be civil.”

“I didn’t think civil was in your vocabulary when it came to me.”

He exhales deeply, letting his head fall back in contempt for a moment before he lifts it and looks at you, “Is this really how you want it to be?”

You don’t reply, and he takes it as his cue to continue.

“Do you really want to keep up the miserable act the entire twenty four hours? Won’t it get exhausting acting like a spoiled brat for that long?”

“I’m not acting like a spoiled brat,” you snap, the magazine now discarded and draped across your knee, open to a random spread, “As far as I’m concerned, it’s not an act. Make no mistake, Munson, I am only doing this for the cash.”

His book lays to gather dust on the coffee table as he leans his elbows onto his knees, twisting his body ever so slightly to face you more fully, “Really? There’s gotta be easier ways to make cash. I’m sure if you asked Stevie boy real nicely, he would have let you put that mouth to use for a quick buc-”

You cut him off, because you know how this sentence ends, and it’s too far. He’s crossed a line. You had expected it, should have seen it coming sooner, but it’s crossing a line all the same.

“Stop,” you firmly instruct, holding up a finger, “Not that it’s any of your miserable business, but me and Steve are not like that. At all. So you can fuck right off with that comment,” you only pause briefly, and you’re glad when he doesn’t interrupt you, “And, may I remind you, you’re also getting payment out of this. I could say the same thing to you, dickwad.”

It had been a curious itch beneath your skin – you knew why you needed the extra cash so badly, but you had no idea why Eddie did. Beneath all the hate, all the irritation, the question had come to mind briefly. But it had been pushed down by disinterest in all things regarding the man before you. At the end of the day, you didn’t care what motivated him. You didn’t care about what he did for work, you didn’t care about what magazines he read, and you definitely didn’t care to know if the five hundred was as necessary for him as it was for you.

This was a means to an end – nothing more, nothing less.

“Dickwad?” His nose crinkles as he parrots your words back to you, “Jesus, did you ever learn any new insults past middle school?”

You’re ignoring him once more, picking the magazine up off of your knee and burying your nose in an article about the greatest punk albums of all time rather than letting yourself be dragged into further conversation with him, trying to send the message that this discussion was over.

The message isn’t received. It flies right over his head.

“Pardon me for the assumption,” you can see him hold his hands up in mock surrender in your peripherals, “You and Harrington just seem close.”

You should just keep ignoring him. You should actually read the words inches from your face. You shouldn’t say another word; your gut is screaming at you to not say another word.

But you ignore your gut, just as he’d ignore your disinterest in talking to him.

“What happened to being quiet? I think I liked it better when you weren’t speaking to me,” you try to say casually, keeping an air of indifference. You should have known better. As your mother always said, once you start feeding a stray, they continue to come back.

“Sounds like it’s a sore spot. Are you and Harrington that close?”

“Not in that way,” you grit out behind the pages, “We’re close, but not like that.”

Your answer doesn’t satisfy him like you’d hoped, “Oh, it is so a sore spot.”

When you finally drop the magazine to properly look at him again, it only fans the anger. He looks smug as he crosses his ankle atop his knee, leaning back and looking you over as if he can read you like cellophane.

“It’s not,” you stress, “Seriously. Drop it.”

In all truthfulness, it wasn’t a sore spot – not when it came to Steve. You’d always been strictly platonic, fitting fairly effortlessly into his and Robin’s friendship.

“You definitely want to fuck Steve.”

“You know what I actually want right now?”

“Please, enlighten me.”

“To knock your teeth in.”

The magazine is tossed back onto the table, nearly sliding off the edge from the force behind your throw. He’s relishing the way you’re continuing to get more upset, the way he’s still inching beneath your skin in a grating motion. To him, this is all just a joke.

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart,” he mocks, smiling with his teeth as if to taunt you.

“Why did you even agree to this?” you finally turn your body towards his and mirror his position, “Is it fun to you? Is that what it is?”

The smile widens, “You know what? Yeah. It is fun to piss you off.”

“Yeah?” you imitate him, putting on a forced smile in an attempt to look as ridiculous as he did right now. You fold your hands and prop your elbows onto your knees, continuing to mock mercilessly as you balance your chin atop them and bat your lashes dramatically, “Please, tell me more. Tell me all about how fun it is.”

In an instant, you drop the smile and begin to return to your previous position. It was rhetorical – you don’t expect a response, and yet he offers one nonetheless.

“Well,” he begins, “First of all, the way you go red in the face is fucking hilarious. Seriously, it’s just like the cartoons. Absolutely ridiculous. I think by the end of this, I’ll get to see steam come out of your ears,” you’re already reaching for your phone, tuning him out, as he continues on, “And then it’s the way you’re just so damn easy. I mean, come on. Sometimes, all I have to do is breathe, and it sends you on a tirade. You just make it too simple, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The nickname is prickly and as uncomfortable as ever, lodging into your ears against your better judgment. It creeps across your brain, travels down your spine, numbs your fingertips. You hate the shockwaves it’s capable of sending down your nerves.

He’s right, at the end of the day. These days, you hardly put up a fight in expressing all your negative emotions towards him. If necessary, you could pinpoint a time where he really did simply breathe and you had proceeded to curse him out for it. Sometimes, just the sight of him can sour your entire mood. He’s an ever-present, persistent, irritating rain-cloud that looms on the edges of your life by circumstance. You can’t get rid of him. You can’t get rid of your hatred for him; you’ve always had a preference for sunny weather.

“Careful,” you hum, not looking his way as you glance down at the time that glows from your lock screen: 5:46 PM. “It almost sounds like you enjoy my presence, Munson.”

Indifference. You needed to practice indifference to survive the next twenty three hours.

“Oh, that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” he says, “You are the worst part of my days. You’re like bad leftovers – everytime I see you, the bile immediately rises in my throat. Whenever Steve mentions you’ll be somewhere, I cancel plans. Whenever you show up without warning, I start counting down the minutes till I can get away from you.”

The indifference begins to break. You finally look at him, keeping a steady expression.

“You could go missing, you could vanish off the face of this earth, and I wouldn't blink an eye. As a matter of fact, I’d probably celebrate. Why my friends are so enamored with you, I will never understand.”

It hurts. It might be Eddie, and you might be used to his spiteful words he uses as weapons against you, but it still hurts. The sting resembles a slap as you process each of his words. Each deliberate syllable – the specific referencing to the group as his friends and not your friends, the unblinking glare of his dark eyes, the insinuation that your death could bring him joy – drives deeper into your chest. It’s a human reaction; it doesn’t matter if the boy before you is the enemy, it still bruises to hear anyone say such things about you. The human need to be accepted, to be liked, to at least be tolerated, still twists in your gut.

And he only presses forth. He doesn’t catch the pain spreading in your limbs because you don’t let the hurt raging in your chest spread across your face. You don’t let him see you bleed.

“I’d attend your funeral with a party hat and sparklers. Confetti, even. The whole nine yards along with my finest bottle of champagne,” he hammers the final nail into a coffin, one that you’re not sure of whom it belongs to. Maybe it’s yours, sealing you six feet under with your cursed emotions. Maybe it’s his, locking him into the tomb to dwell in his ability to always take things too far.

You won’t let him see you bleed.

You stand abruptly, making him flinch in the slightest. You keep your face turned from him as you take your phone and storm off into the hallway wordlessly.

“Hey! Where are you going?” he calls after you.

But he’s not following you. No footsteps echo your own as you turn into the only other doorway aside from the bathroom.

He has a clear line of sight of you from the couch, and he can see you disappear into his room.

The door slams shut behind you with a riveting bang. Your nimble fingertips fumble with twisting the lock into place, chest heaving as you finally let your eyes burn.

He can’t see you. You finally bleed.

The tears are feverish as they roll down your cheeks one by one, taking slow steps backward as you squeeze them shut and will them away. There are no accompanying whimpers, or sobs, or hiccups. It’s just you, the salty streams, and the now overwhelming scent of him.

He’s only managed to make you cry, make you bleed this way, once before. The night of Steve’s party, the night you had attempted to make him bleed in retaliation. You’d harbored the need to cut him open desperately that night, to crack open his chest and assure yourself he could bleed the same scarlet as you, that there was still a weathered heart behind his calloused ribs that could beat the same as yours.

But you never did. At the end of that night, you had been the only one left bloodied and bandaged, aside from Steve’s glass as collateral damage. He remained unscathed.

The door knob shakes suddenly, and your eyes flash back open. Another shake, and you hear him huffing.

“Seriously? Did you just lock me out of my own room?” His voice comes from the other side of the door.

The bleeding stops. The wound seals. Even if he can’t see you through the door, just to know that his presence resides on the other side of it is enough to put an end to your trembling breaths.

“Fuck off,” you call out hoarsely.

“Let me in. It’s my room.”

“No.”

He sighs, and a thump sounds that you assume is his forehead falling against the wood in defeat, “Why do you insist on acting like a child?”

“You’re the one with a collection of action figures!” you fight back with your weakest insult of the night. He twists the doorknob without fruition a few more times, a couple sharp knocks sound as you turn to get a better look at the room you’d run into without observation.

It’s nothing extravagant, which makes sense. He has an entire apartment to spill his wretched personality across, which means there’s no need to condense it into the decor of his bedroom. He doesn’t have to express himself in a limited space as you do with your dorm. There’s a few posters of various bands hung crookedly on the wall, a dresser with a few of the drawers half open with assortments of clothes peeking out before they overflow onto the carpeted flooring, and a bed left unmade. His jersey sheets are plaid, worn and clearly well-loved. Despite the expected mess trailing about the rest of the floor, the space beside the bed is left cleared, and you decide to settle yourself down onto the patch.

Your phone buzzes in your tight fist as your back settles up against the side of the bed.

“Unlock the door,” his voice persists impatiently again.

“Go to Hell.”

“I’m already there. Stuck with you.”

Maybe the wound isn’t quite sealed, because the words fall like salt into your chest.

“Why my friends are so enamored with you, I will never understand.”

There’s more to say, but the chiming of a phone cuts off your thoughts. You glance down to your cell phone – not yours.

The ringing is more muted, behind the door. With Eddie.

It’s Eddie’s phone.

You’re about to call out a snarky remark about him getting that, but the ringing cuts off before you have the chance. It’s clear he’s walked away from the door as the echoes of his voice fades, the conversation inaudible to you through the walls.

Your fingers dig into the carpet beside your thighs as you pull at individual strands that stick out, finally discarding your phone on the opposite side. Eventually, your touch trails closer to the edge of the bed, plucking, plucking, plucking until you collide with laminated paper sticking out from beneath the bed.

What’s this?

Just as you’re about to pull what you assume is a magazine from beneath the bed, your phone begins to buzz violently, this time the ringtone being your own.

The screen lights up with Steve’s contact photo. It can’t be good.

“Hello?” you answer once you pick the phone up after a few moments of pause.

“You can’t lock him out of his own room.”

“Oh, hey, Steve. I’m great, thanks for asking. Really living the drea-”

“You can’t lock him out of his own room,” Steve repeats with more emphasis, disregarding your sarcastic tone completely.

You stare across the room at an acoustic guitar resting on a stand. This machine slays dragons, it reads in bold, white lettering.

“So you were the one who called him,” you mumble.

Steve sighs over the line, “No. Nance called him, because you haven’t sent the proof to the chat yet. We were trying to give you guys a grace period, but-”

“But you assumed we’d already murdered each other,” you finish his sentence.

“Can you blame us? What did he even say to make you board yourself up in his room?”

You scoff softly, “He didn’t tell Nancy?”

The moment Steve mentioned Nancy was the one calling Eddie, you’d simply assumed he’d filled her in.

Before you’d weaseled your way into the friend group, there had been clear, strong bonds already set in place: Robin & Steve, Jonathan & Argyle, and Nancy & Eddie. Three sets of best friends who all wove together to form their large friend group with ease.

You were the odd man out. They never treated you as such, except for Eddie, but it was an insecurity that could eat you alive if you ever gave it the time of day. And maybe that was why Eddie’s earlier words had cut so deeply. He was voicing a fear you always tried to bury deep down.

“No,” Steve says as if it were obvious, “He just started going off about how you had locked him out of his room amongst…. Um, amongst other things.”

Other things. You could guess what those other things had been; no doubt, he’d spent his time on the phone bitching about you. He’d probably called you every crude name in his rolodex of hatefulness.

“Right,” you drawl, eyes flickering around the room to seek out another distraction to mindlessly stare at. Suddenly, you remember the magazine you had discovered just as Steve called, “Well, nothing surprising. The usual, really. Just how he hates my guts, he finds me annoying, he wouldn’t care if I died-”

“-What?”

You ignore Steve’s gasp of disbelief and carry on, “-All the classic insults you would say to your arch nemesis.”

Steve says your name softly, still carrying an air of shock, “He didn’t mean that. I- Listen, he’s an asshole sometimes, but I guarantee he would care-”

“Who cares?” you interrupt, “I don’t blame him. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to care if I meet my untimely demise. I kind of figured he was going to murder me anyways, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was… that was joking around, he…” Steve trails off, because you both know he’s full of shit.

There was no joking around between you and Eddie. A painful truth, considering when you first joined the friend group, you had such high hopes of getting along with him.

“It’s whatever. Do you still need me to send proof?” you ask, fingers now playing with the crumpled edges of the magazine. Even half-hidden, you could see there were pages that had been dog-eared.

You almost don’t hear Steve as he tells you that it’s fine, that now they know the two of you are definitely together. It’s already nearly time for the next check in anyways.

“Alright, in that case…” your tongue peaks out as you begin to tug the magazine out of hiding. The moment the magazine's title comes into sight, you gasp, frozen as the phone nearly slips out of your hand.

Fucking jackpot.

“You good?” Steve asks.

Playboy. A goddamn Playboy magazine.

“Never better,” you rush out, eager to hang up so you can utilize this ammunition against Eddie, “Talk later, Steve-O.”

You don’t give him a chance to echo a goodbye before you hang up, tossing your phone off to the side with a muted thump. Your focus is entirely on the magazine before you, crinkling as you hold it in your hands and bite back laughter.

Against your better judgment, you open the cover, mouth falling open as you flip through page after page of nude women and cigarette ads. Some pages stick together, and you don’t dare to peel them apart, cringing at the thought of just why they’re sticky. You come to the first page that had been dog-earred, and your jaw clicks as your mouth falls agape.

Fucking pervert. He’s a goddamn pervert.

A well-timed knock sounds at the door once more, Eddie’s knuckles sharp in their three strikes, “Can you let me in now?”

It’s the closest to a please you’re going to get.

“Sorry, busy!” you call out in response, still staring at the spread.

The nude woman eerily resembles you. Same hair, same skin tone, similar noses. The Universe has dropped the most loving of gifts in your laps in the form of this magazine, something you know you can use to get under Eddie’s skin as severely as he had done to you.

“Busy?” he protests, knocking on the door again before you hear the shaking of the doorknob again, “What the fuck are you doing in there? I told you, don’t touch my shit.”

You bite your lip, smile curling the corners of your mouth as you finally stand from the floor, knees cracking as you keep the magazine open to the photo. Eddie has gone scarily quiet, and you can’t even make out his breathing. His shadow has stilled completely as it peaks in from under the doorway.

He’s never living this down.

You’re still grinning with ill-intent as you shout, “Wow. Who knew I was right about the Playboy?”

Those words are all it takes for the frantic pounding on the door to begin.

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #twenty four hours #i still can't believe this got as much attention as it did omg thank y'all

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denimbex1986 · 5 months

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'After more than 13 years off our screens, one of the Doctor's most beloved companions is returning to Doctor Who - Donna Noble, as played by Catherine Tate.

Donna first appeared in the 2006 episode Doomsday, and went on to become a fan favourite, before having one of the most tragic fates of any of the Doctor's companions.

She is now set to return in The Star Beast, Wild Blue Yonder and The Giggle, three specials to celebrate the show's 60th anniversary, which also see David Tennant returning, this time as the Fourteenth Doctor.

But just what did happen during Donna's previous tenure on the show? How did she come into the Doctor's life and how was she so cruelly snatched away from it?

Read on for everything you need to know about what has happened to Donna Noble in Doctor Who thus far.

How did Donna first meet the Doctor?

Catherine Tate's Donna Noble first appeared at the end of Doctor Who's season 2 finale, Doomsday, when she suddenly appeared in the TARDIS wearing a wedding dress.

In The Runaway Bride, we found out that the temp from Chiswick had been getting married on Christmas Day, to man called Lance, who she'd met six months ago at work.

Together, the Doctor and Donna discovered that she had been drawn to the TARDIS because of a chemical reaction in her body, caused by Huon particles she had unwittingly ingested in liquid form.

She was being poisoned by her Lance, who was working with the Empress of the Racnoss. A ship full of her Racnoss children was buried at the centre of the Earth, after the planet formed around them Millenia ago.

The particles were intended to set them free, but the Doctor flooded the pit, stopping the Empress's plans. Donna saved him when it seemed he wouldn't leave, and would be trapped inside and drowned. Lance, meanwhile, was killed by the Empress.

The Doctor offered Donna the opportunity to travel with him, but she said that she couldn't live his life of danger and adventure. She planned to travel the world, and the two thought they would never see each other again. How wrong they were...

How did Donna and the Doctor reunite?

Over a year later, in the episode Partners in Crime, we learned that Donna had never properly travelled the world, and had instead spent a lot of her time searching for the Doctor, looking to take him up on his offer.

Through a series of coincidences (and a mystery to solve) the pair were reunited to stop Miss Foster's plans to use the Earth as an Adipose breeding ground.

Donna told the Doctor she had changed her mind and off they went, travelling through time and space.

Throughout their following adventures, the Doctor would notice a host of coincidences which seemed to be drawing the pair together. He overlooked them, but they would soon pay off in a big way.

Why did Donna stop travelling in the TARDIS?

In Journey's End, the season 4 finale, things seemed hopeless. The Earth had been stolen by the Daleks and placed in a pattern with 16 other planets to create a Reality Bomb, which cancelled out the electrical field binding atoms, destroying anything in its path. Davros planned to use it destroy the entire universe.

A Dalek had also shot the Doctor, causing him to begin the regeneration process. However, after healing himself entirely but before changing his appearance, he had siphoned the remaining energy off into his spare hand, which had been cut off by the leader of the Sycorax during a battle on Christmas Day years before (as seen in The Christmas Invasion).

He had grown another hand at the time, as he was still recovering from his previous regeneration, and the spare hand had been collected by Captain Jack Harkness.

In the aftermath of the half-regeneration, the Daleks captured the TARDIS, containing the Doctor, Donna, Rose Tyler and Captain Jack, and brought it aboard their ship.

As they exited the TARDIS, Donna found herself momentarily drawn back into it by the sound of a heartbeat. Then, the doors slammed shut.

The Daleks then plummeted the TARDIS into the heart of their ship, The Crucible, intending to destroy it, with Donna left inside.

However, when all seemed lost, Donna found herself drawn to the Doctor's spare hand. She touched it and a regeneration light enveloped both her and it. The hand burst from its cage and out of it grew another Doctor! The new Doctor transported the TARDIS to safety, but the others thought it destroyed.

The new Doctor revealed that when Donna had touched his hand, she had created a biological metacrisis, from which he had grown. He was also influenced by Donna, picking up some of her voice, and only had one heart, revealing him to be half human, half Time Lord. The Doctor theorised this had been somehow destined from the beginning.

Later, the new Doctor and Donna revealed themselves to the others, and Donna was zapped with electrical energy by Davros. This unlocked regeneration energy, which had fed back into her and made Donna half human, half Time Lord as well - the DoctorDonna.

She now had some of the Doctor's voice and his intelligence, and using her own human initiative and newfound smarts was able to stop Davros and the Daleks' plans.

It was revealed that this had all been influenced by Dalek Caan, a rogue Dalek who had saved Davros but had since become disillusioned with him and the entire Dalek race. He had therefore manipulated the timelines to ensure Donna was always in the right place at the right time for this to happen.

With the Daleks stopped, the Doctor and Donna returned the planets to their rightful places and dropped all of his friends back home. They also left the new Doctor in a parallel world, with Rose.

Then, tragedy struck. As Donna started to repeat her words and struggle to get her thoughts together, the Doctor revealed the truth - that the reason there had never been a human-Time Lord metacrisis before was because it wasn't possible. The information inside her head was too much and it was burning her up.

In order to save her life, the Doctor had to wipe Donna's memories; not just of the metacrisis, but of himself, the TARDIS and all of their adventures together.

The Doctor dropped her back at home with her grandad Wilf and her mum Sylvia, and told them that they had to stop her from remembering at all costs - if she ever remembered him or anything they did together, her mind would burn and she would die.

He said goodbye to Donna as he left, but she didn't have any sense of who he was.

When did we last see Donna?

We picked up again with Donna some time later, in the Tenth Doctor's swan song, The End of Time Parts 1 and 2.

In those episodes, Wilf was being plagued by visions, and so set up a group of friends to search for the Doctor, while Donna was planning for her second wedding, this time to a man named Shaun Temple.

Wilf managed to find the Doctor, but he warned again that Donna must not remember. Wilf went on to aid the Doctor in a new fight against the Master.

As the Master set his plan into motion to turn every human into him, Donna, along with Wilf, was one of the only ones who didn't, but she started to remember her adventures.

Her mind started to overload, but it turned out the Doctor had left her with a defence mechanism, which allowed her to wipe out some of the Masters in close range and then fall asleep, forgetting all that she had started to remember.

After facing off against the Time Lords and the Master, and seeing the human race reverted back to normal, Wilf signalled the Doctor's demise with four knocks.

The Doctor saved Wilf from a radiation chamber which was about to get flooded, but in doing so took it on himself, meaning he would soon die.

However, he took the opportunity for a series of goodbyes, including visiting Donna and Shaun's wedding. There, out of sight from Donna, he gifted her, via Sylvia and Wilf, with a lottery ticket he had bought in the past, using money given to him by Donna's late father.

With a final salute from Wilf, the Doctor left, and never saw Donna again. That is, until The Star Beast...'

#Catherine Tate #Donna Noble #The Runaway Bride #Partners in Crime #Journey's End #The Star Beast #Doomsday #Wild Blue Yonder #The Giggle #60th Anniversary #Doctor Who #David Tennant #The Christmas Invasion #Davros #Captain Jack Harkness #The End of Time Parts 1 & 2 #Sylvia #Wilfred Mott

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