#martha... well i knew i had to have a doctor who character. i thought maybe the doctor but then i thought their companions mean more to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doctenwho · 3 years

Text

Gestures and Evasion

Hello! Welcome to a new DT fic! My deepest apologies that it’s been so long, and thank you so much for waiting so patiently! Life’s been a bit of a rollercoaster recently, and I’ve needed a bit to recuperate, but I’m back again!

This prompt didn’t have a specific character mentioned, but luckily, since it wasn’t anonymous, I was able to shoot pistachoz a DM and they’ve confirmed it’s a Tenth Doctor request! :D

Warning: None, I don’t think?

Word Count: 3,514

Summary: Check out the prompt above! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the creator! :D)

The Doctor doesn’t really remember the first small act he’d committed to try and get his companion to notice him. To notice him on a... well, on a more personal level?

It’s a general memory, nothing pinpointed, but he knows it happened long ago.

It was something small—mundane. (Y/N) had more or less brushed the gesture off with a light laugh and a smile that made his hearts hammer away in his chest, but (Y/N) had really seen if for what it had been.

It wasn’t very often that the Doctor had these sort of feeling about anything, but there was just something special about (Y/N). Something he couldn’t put his finger on.

He’d been trying for just about as long as the companion had been travelling with him to send little messages, or gestures in hopes that maybe (Y/N) would see what he was doing for what it was instead of brushing it off like she tended to do.

If he’s honest, he’s never really had this kind of problem before. He’s had many companions, and more often than not, those companions tend to want more from him than he’s willing to allow himself to give. Rose, and Martha—Jack, even—they were all looking for more from him, and being what he is, and what he does, it’s not that simple to reciprocate feelings.

They’ll all age and eventually die, whereas he’ll just move on to his next bout of regeneration with a broken heart he’ll have to try his hardest to keep under wraps.

The Doctor knows that maybe (Y/N) showing such little interest in him is almost a good thing. Less heartbreak down the road when (Y/N) decides not to accompany him any longer, or, worse, when old age takes (Y/N) away like every other human before her. It’s inevitable, and he really should have a stronger hold on human life compared to TimeLord life, but the loss always knocks him down for a while.

It should be a good thing, but he just can’t seem to bring himself around to believing that it’s a good thing. Not when every time (Y/N) brushes off a gesture he’s thought over, and put time and effort into, it fills his hearts with an unfamiliar pain he hasn’t felt since losing his family and Gallifrey alike.

It had taken him a while to notice he was even trying to win (Y/N) in a sort of courtship way. And it had taken even longer to realize he’d been doing it for about as long as he’d known (Y/N). It hadn’t seemed like it at the time, but looking back now, he can see how all the little comments and gestures were more than just friendly.

But she’d been brushing his attempts off since early in their travels. Shooting him a smile, but turning away when anything too even the slightest romantic turn. Avoiding his eyes when he stared fondly, or laughing it off when a compliment slipped past his lips.

He really didn’t understand it.

He could see the Gallifreyan romantic gestures confusing (Y/N), but the few earth gestures he’d picked up barely stirred anymore of a reaction than the Gallifreyan ones. He didn’t know where he was going wrong—how it was all being perceived the way it was. The wrong way. He wasn’t getting the reactions he wanted and... well, it hurt.

Both his pride, and his hearts.

It had started small with flowers—or, a flower. They were on a foreign planet, but he knew giving small gifts like a flower was one of the human gestures. So, he’d searched around while his companion was busy exploring, and located the loveliest flower he could find. It was mixtures of blues and purples; native to the planet but incredibly rare considering they only bloomed twice a year, for no longer that three days at a time.

The flower had a sweet smell; one similar to those of sweets from earth. For a while, before he’d remembered Earth didn’t have this specific species of flower, nor were they advanced enough in space travel to find one, he’d assumed they’d used the attractive scent of the flower as a marketing technique to sell their sweets.

The sugary smell Earth sweets had would always come second to the scent of this specific flower.

The exchange had been short, and less than pleasurable if the Doctor’s honest. He’d found (Y/N) sitting on the ground, just taking the calming atmosphere of the planet. His heart stuttered in his chest before he finally took those last few steps towards her, where he settled at her side and cleared his throat to gain her attention.

He’d held the flower out, rambling out facts as (Y/N) took the flower into her hands. She gave it a sniff, and fiddled with the stem and petals for a second before smiling down at it. She stared down at it, before looking back at him with an appreciative smile. He’d thought he’d won her over, but instead, she settled the flower on the ground beside her.

His hearts had cracked as his companion’s hand fell away from the flower, leaving it on the ground as she returned her attention to the world around her. He’d swallowed thickly before sitting himself beside her, not bothering to mention the fact his gesture had gone unnoticed.

It was the same ordeal when he’d ordered (Y/N) a space delicacy from one of his favorite planets, where his companion had taken the treat into her hands and tasted it without a second thought. Smiling down at the treat, before shooting him light smile as she licked her lips.

He didn’t know why he’d been expecting—hoping for—anything more than the usual ‘Thank you’ he always received when he did something out of the ordinary for his companion, but the mumbled words had filled his with a sense of sadness.

It was silly.

But he kept trying.

The gestures just kept coming. It was barely a forethought anymore. An unconscious effort to try and win over his companion—seeking this relationship (Y/N) quite obviously didn’t want. It was a sad downward spiral, but he really couldn’t imagine not trying to woo her. He’d been at it for so long, not trying sounded foreign.

He tried just about anything he could to get any sort of reaction. Any hint that his companion knew what he was trying to do. Any acknowledgment that she understood that he was trying. He’d prefer blatant rejection to this... whatever this evasive attitude (Y/N) was expressing.

Dinner in the stars.

Unique gifts from distant planets.

Various treats and snacks from wherever they happened to be.

He even tried to learn more about human things on earth. How humans went about stuff like this, and how it all differed from his Gallifreyan roots. Human courting was quite the oddity.

He didn’t talk to many humans who weren’t his companions, or people he’d saved in some way or another, but the man who ran one of the shops had taken some time to educate him, but the Doctor had come out of that conversation more confused than he’d gone in.

But on the bright side, (Y/N) had enjoyed the bag of sweets he’d awkwardly bought to stand at the register and chat with the friendly shopkeeper.

He was still at a loss. Nothing seemed to be working. Nothing wooed his companion. He didn’t understand—couldn't see how not one single thing he’d tried had gotten (Y/N)’s attention.

But he still had one more thing up his sleeve.

“Where are we going?” (Y/N) asked cautiously from the seat in the console room. The Doctor was doing his usual laps around the TARDIS console to what should be six TimeLord’s jobs simultaneously. He’d gotten good at it over the years, but there was still, occasionally, some rough kickbacks when he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

“It’s a surprise,” the man shot his companion a grin, pulling a lever. At this point, (Y/N) should be used to the surprises. He never got the kinds of reactions he was looking for, but he was still hoping that... maybe sometime he would. That something he planned would be the special one that could win his companion over.

(Y/N) didn’t reply, but continued to watch the Doctor how around the TARDIS like a madman.

They weren’t far from the next greatest surprise the man had planned. They’d been travelling a little under an hour, and (Y/N) had only joined him in the console room ten-ish minutes prior, but he’d still refused to tell her where they were heading.

(Y/N) was still quiet when the Doctor stabilized his space and time machine, checking everything twice before finally tugging his companion up by the hand and leading her towards the doors.

He threw the doors open, grinning widely as he gazed around. Just as promised.

It was a phenomenon really. A collection of heart shaped carbon monoxide ice chunks. No one was quite sure how they’d been formed, or whether someone had carved the hearts and left them to float in this tiny orbital pull in the middle of nowhere.

It was a sight few saw—the Doctor had only heard of this place from chatter on a nearby planet, but he had to admit it was just as beautiful as he’d imagined. The ice glistened as the light casted from the TARDIS hit it, making them twinkle just as brightly as the stars in the background.

It was about as romantic as you could get.

“Woah,” (Y/N) gaped at his side, and the Doctor turned to look, smile slowly lighting up his face as he watched his companion’s eyes travel from heart to heart. “What... what is this?”

“It’s carbon monoxide ice,” the Doctor informed softly, the smile on his face widening as his hearts thrummed in his chest. His companion had an astonished look on her face, eyes wide with childlike curiosity. “Like that of Mars in your solar system. No one’s really sure how they take shape but... well, they’re quite the sight.”

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed out, almost like her breath was taken away by the sight.

The Doctor had been told by many, had seen for himself as beauty takes away people’s breath. He’d been there too, once or twice with his current companion.

He barely even caught his words as they left his mouth—his heart speaking before his brain had a chance to filter his words, “Like you.”

That was his moment of error, the Doctor noticed.

He frowned to himself as his companion slowly pulled themself away, shying away from his side and retreating back into the TARDIS with one last lingering glance at the ice. The Doctor’s hearts froze within his chest, as he watched uncertainly—unsure just how he’d managed to mess this one up as well.

“It’s late,” (Y/N) muttered softly before leaving the Doctor alone in the TARDIS doorway, the man’s gaze locked on one lone heart with a barely noticeable crack down the center. It wouldn’t be long before the orbit around them pulled the frail pieces apart, severing the heart into two.

The TimeLord forced a breath, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment as he resided completely with the cracked heart.

He didn’t understand.

The clumps of frozen carbon monoxide made his hearts hurt the longer he stared, so he was quick to follow on his companion’s footsteps, spinning on his heels and shuffling back inside, making sure to shut the doors behind him.

He wanted to flee this place, this failed attempt, but he couldn’t bring himself around to flying the TARDIS at the moment. He didn’t have the energy too. Like expected, (Y/N) had disappeared into the TARDIS, so the Doctor plopped heavily down on the seat.

Maybe it was time to accept the fact that his companion did not reciprocate his feelings. That he was barking up the wrong tree. He’d thought that they were... but maybe he was wrong.

The Doctor stared up at the TARDIS ceiling, his space and time machine giving a little hum as if she could feel his worries and mood. His hand patted the back of his seat halfheartedly as a promise that he was okay.

It had never been this hard with any other companion. There was just something so special about (Y/N). Something he wanted to get closer too, even though he knew he’d end up hurt in the end. Something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get now.

Maybe it was time to settle this once and for all. His gestures were overlooked, or, maybe even ignored. As much as it hurt to admit, (Y/N) didn’t seem very enthused with anything he’d done. Maybe it was the human not understanding what he was trying to do—but humans tended to like words.

The Doctor from (Y/N) in her room, perched on the edge of her bed. (Y/N)’s attention raised when the Doctor announced his arrival with a sturdy knock on the slivered-open door. The knock pushed the door in enough for the Doctor to poke his head in.

“Do you, uh, have a moment?” He asked cautiously, almost ready for the rejection he’d been living with for the better part of travelling with (Y/N). He’d grown used to it, but it still tugged at his heart strings. She’d never deny him conversation, but he could still see and feel her pulling away from him.

“Of course,” (Y/N) sat up a little more, giving the Doctor her full attention. “What’s the matter?”

He hadn’t thought this far ahead, the Doctor realizes as he shifts from foot to foot in (Y/N)’s doorway, mind vacant of any thoughts. (Y/N) tilted her head at the Doctor’s odd silence, studying him from her spot, “Doctor...? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” the man cleared his throat. Then did so a second time before continuing, “I wanted to, uhm, know what you thought about the, uh,” he gestured broadly behind him, hoping his companion could piece his question together.

“The ice hearts?”

It was a good thing his companion was so clever.

“Yes, the hearts.” The Doctor nods, fingers tapping awkwardly against his side. “Did you... did you like them?”

“They were beautiful,” (Y/N) repeated once again, fidgeting with her own fingers, “it was a bit unexpected, but... yeah, I did. Thanks for showing me them.”

The man gave a nod, but didn’t voice anything. If he thought his voice would’ve come out naturally instead of the anxious waver he was sure would be there, he definitely would’ve replied with a soft ‘My pleasure,’ because it really was his pleasure to introduce (Y/N) to the beauty of the galaxy.

There was an unsettling moment of silence where neither really knew what to say.

It was the Doctor who broke it, staring at his shoes as he finally allowed the words he’d been stewing over out, “do you... not like me, (Y/N)?”

“What?” the surprise was prominent. The word rang out for a second before the Doctor lifted his gaze to settled on (Y/N)’s shocked, tense frame. Her muscles were stiff, body sitting up straighter and more alert than she had been when he’d first asked to talk. “I like you plenty,” (Y/N) assured quickly, “what gave you the idea I didn’t?”

There was a list, really. He could count things off on his fingers, but he wasn't here to be petty. The man bit his lip, leaning against the doorframe to support his weight. He honestly just wanted to know why (Y/N) was so evasive every time he so much as tried to woo her.

“You... well, uh, you never seem to care,” he made sure to word it carefully, “I... I’m not sure if you even notice, or ignore it, or what. I just, I need you to be honest with me. Why haven’t you... reciprocated any feelings?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Doctor,” (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and one ankle crossed over the other as she leaned forwards in interest.

“Since I met you,” the Doctor swallowed, “I’ve been... I don’t know how to say it but, trying to court you, I suppose? That’s not really something humans do, but it is something TimeLords do. It’s just that... every attempt I’ve made... every try I’ve made to do something cute, or romantic, you brush it off. You’re evasive, and... I’d just like to know if that’s because you don’t reciprocate my feelings. If you don’t feel the same, we can just put this all behind us.”

“It’s not like that,” (Y/N)’s voice was quiet, a near whisper, “please don’t think it’s because I don’t like you. I do, Doctor. I just... I wasn’t sure.”

“Weren’t sure?” The man furrowed his eyebrows, “sure about what?”

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship. I noticed everything, the flower you gave me, the sweets. All the dinners, and the... the dates. Today with the ice hearts even. I didn’t know how to admit I liked you when there was a chance you didn’t like me back the same way. I don’t know what I’d do if I ruined this.”

“But the gestures and dates?” the Doctor frowned, finally stepping into (Y/N)’s room and sitting on the edge of her bed beside her. He’d thought he was being obvious.

“Very obvious,” his companion let out a little laugh, “and I should’ve known, but I was scared. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. This adventure is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I didn’t want to compromise that by admitting my feelings.”

He could understand that, a bit. “So... you do like me too?”

“Of course,” (Y/N)’s smile was soft, “a lot, Doctor. I just... didn’t know how to reciprocate it without there being a possibility that everything could fall through, and we’d ruin our relationship in the process. I know you were offering it, but I was nervous. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” the Doctor chastised quietly. He paused for a second before speaking again, “I’m having a hard time believing this is real,” he admitted with a tilt of his head, “you really acknowledged it all? I... never noticed.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) smiled softly, “and I have proof it wasn’t all in vain, Doctor.” (Y/N) stood up from her spot on the bed, and moved towards her book shelf. It housed a few books, and some trinkets she’d found on their travels and liked. She continued speaking as she searched through the books, “I really enjoyed everything you put together for me since I met you. I wasn’t sure you were really doing it all to be romantic at first but... the hearts today really summed that up for me.”

The man watched as she tugged on one of the book’s spines, pulling it from the shelve and holding it in her hands for a second before she waving to retake her seat. She started flipping through the pages, so the Doctor leaned over her shoulder to watch.

“Here,” she stopped on a page towards the middle of the book. The Doctor refrained from gaping as his companion carefully pulled that singular flower he’d given her all that time ago from the book. The room was instantly filled with that sweet, alluring scent and his hand shook as he took the pressed flower into his fingers by the delicate stem.

“I thought you left this,” he admitted softly, studying the vibrant colours that had stayed even after being pressed into the book. He hadn’t noticed her bringing the flower back. Had really thought she’d left it on that planet and ignored the gesture entirely.

“I couldn’t,” his companion sighed, “it was selfish, even if I didn’t want to ruin what we had, I wanted to keep it to remember the moment. To remember you, even if we did at some point part ways.”

“You’re brilliant,” the Doctor breathed out, finally passing the flower back like it was as precious as a crown jewel or something. “So incredibly brilliant, (Y/N).”

(Y/N)’s cheeks flushed and she ducked her head away from his gaze, but it was different than the usual brushing away of his gestures. Something was different now.

They hadn’t cleared it all up, that was for sure. He still had questions, and she still had doubts. They didn’t quite understand each other yet, but it hadn’t all been in vain like he’d thought. She’d seen it all. Acknowledged it, even if not to him. His hearts swelled as he smiled lightly.

There was still a lot they needed to discuss, but for right now, the Doctor just wanted to spend a bit of time with his companion—without all the hassle of their rightful doubts and insecurities.

“Do you think we could... spend a little while longer looking out at the frozen carbon monoxide outside before we leave? It really is quite pretty, and... maybe we can talk about this more later?”

“I’d... love that, Doctor.”

“Good. Uh, great,” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His companion giggled at him, but he didn’t mind in the slightest, “allons-y, (Y/N).”

<><><><>

Once again, sorry this took so long! I’m hoping to keep this momentum going and keep getting out the requests in waiting! I hope you all liked this fic, it was a bunch of fun to write! I thoroughly enjoyed creating the frozen carbon monoxide hearts, so I hope you all liked that as well!

As always, feel free to prompt me again if this wasn’t what you were looking for (though it might take a while to get around to it if you do!) and thanks once more for requesting. Hoping everyone had a good morning/day/night!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #ten #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #10 #doctor who #doctor who 2005 #TARDIS #writing prompt #writing requests #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic

282 notes · View notes

some-stars · 3 years

Text

Fic writer questionnaire! Tagged by @deputychairman, thank you!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

65....just waiting for 69 so i can celebrate

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

288,609

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

okay, so, there's a lot so we're gonna collapse some. So, 16: The Witcher (games and show), Supernatural, Dark Angel, Glee, Stargate (both SG1 and SGA), MCU, Vampire Diaries, Teen Wolf, due South, DC (comics and movies), House of Leaves, Sense8, Harry Potter, Les Miserables (book), Doctor Who, and X-Men movies. Oh, and I wrote a lot of NSYNC RPF back in the day but you will never see it. (Unless you literally read it back then and remember one and want to reread it, I’m not ashamed of them if you were also in the pit with me. If that is the case feel free to ask.)

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

all some children do is work: this one surprised me, i did NOT think there was this kind of appetite for almost-gen turned-into-a-kid fic, but i do really like the fic itself so i'm contented with its acclaim

method: i mean, it's fake dating, written back when there wasn't much non-modern-AU fake dating in witcher fandom (possibly there still isn't?) so, not surprised

Emergency Pants: this is the one that the Claw chose back in 2012 bc i had written very pornographic tony/bruce about a month after Avengers came out so there was a big appetite for it. i don't much care for it these days except i do still think the tony voice is good

warm you like the sunshine: deeply unsurprised this one is popular (and it's one of my own fics that i reread a lot), it's extremely tender BDSM with a juggernaut pairing, that gets the readers

As often as from thee I go: honestly kinda surprised about this one, which is just a 2500 word confection i wrote for my own satisfaction, but it does have explicit sex and jaskier crying about his feelings so maybe it makes sense

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I almost always do, but usually just with "Thanks!" unless it's a detailed or lengthy comment.

6) What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

"Long black night, morning frost" (Les Miserables) for absolute certain. One of the very few fics I've written with an outright unhappy and pessimistic ending (although I found it very cathartic to write). For Witcher fics, "Kind" and "go ask alice" are about as sad as I get.

7) What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Almost all of them, honestly. There's a point in happiness of endings where you really can't distinguish degrees. Probably the most--not saccharine, but distinctly Happy Ending-ish is either "Water like a stone" or "Darling, if you only knew," which to my eternal shame are both Glee fics. In terms of Witcher fics...it's still hard to pick! I think the kidfic trilogy ended very, very happily; I think "If you live through this with me" ended TOO happily.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've written?

I do not, and I don't read them, at least not since the days of the late 90s/early 2000s when I once read a really good Highlander/X-Files crossover (oh, and Martha's cosmic horror fic where Stargate and Angel and I think something else all cross over but it feels quite natural and right). I don't like fusions, either, most of the time.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Never! In 20 years! I've been extremely lucky.

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

ahahahahahahahhaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

yes...yes you could say i write smut. on occasion. you know, when the urge comes on me. i write mostly kink or at least kink-adjacent fic, but i've done some vanilla scenes too, and i write m/m and m/f and (occasionally) f/f. fun fact, my only rimming scene to date was in a f/f/f threesome!

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think so? I can't remember, honestly, which sounds dreadful but like...I don't READ the translation, because I am sadly monolingual, but I get a burst of delight when someone asks to do it (or to make a podfic).

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have tried--me and a friend once got like 12k deep into a co-written Tiger and Bunny fic--but it doesn't really work out for me. I am a massive control freak when it comes to writing and absolutely miserable to work with. (Although I wasn't so bad back when we wrote the T&B fic, we just sort of never got around to finishing it. Which is sad, because it was GREAT.)

14) What's your all time favorite ship?

Max/Alec from Dark Angel. I shipped it when I only started watching DA for Jensen's episodes, I shipped it when I fell in love with Max, I shipped it when I frantically hand-wrote notes about the fic I wanted to write, I ship it right now as I'm typing, I will ship it in my grave. Also it's not a het ship bc neither of them are heterosexual, thank you very much.

15) What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I only post finished fics, but in terms of things I haven't posted, I still think my "For A Good Time Call" fem!jaskier/yennefer(/geralt) AU would have been truly incredible. If you haven't watched that movie go watch it immediately so you can share this beautiful idea with me.

16) What are your writing strengths?

Ohhh, this and the next one are hard, because I truly don't know. Well, besides "porn." I am genuinely good at porn, which is HILARIOUS considering how many more sex scenes I've written than participated in. But overall, I have so much angst and neurosis and tenuous self-worth tied up in writing, I'm a very bad judge of my own skills. Also, it depends on the fandom! In some fandoms I'm good at dialogue, in others not so much. In some fandoms I'm good at pastiching the tone of the source and in others...Not So Much.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

If I had to pick a weakness, though, I'd say concrete imagery/detail. Like, the things that characters are physically doing either out of emotional reaction or just, they're doing something in that scene. Dialogue is usually easier (not sure if it comes out better, but it's easier).

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I used to be mildly annoyed at it but! Now! On AO3! You can put a footnote by the French or whatever, so the reader can jump down to read a translation and then jump right back up. I now feel that if you choose to include dialogue (or any words) in another language from the rest of the story, this is the only acceptable method.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I remember vaguely in 1996 or so writing a couple pages of Kit whump for the Young Wizards books. I wrote some execrable nonsense in X-Files, but in my defense I had just turned 13. I don't THINK I wrote anything for Star Trek, which was my first fandom. Oh, and I attempted to write fic for Homicide, which I watched in 7th and 8th grade and lied about my age to get onto the good mailing lists (they were actually the bad, racist mailing lists, I would later realize, but again I was 13).

20) What's your favorite fic you've written?

Sorry to disappoint anyone who follows me for Witcher content, but it's either "The absolute absurdity of end-series items" (House of Leaves) or "A quite unlosable game" (Dark Angel). They are both Big Idea fics, and I feel like in both of them I got the Idea across brilliantly, and I'm truly proud of them and think they're the best things I've ever made. (In terms of Witcher fic, it's the kidfic trilogy for sure.)

I am not going to tag anyone because that always makes me mildly anxious, but if you read this and you want to do it you can say you were tagged by me! :D? :D?

#meme

14 notes · View notes

magpiefrankie · 3 years

Text

I was in Lidl today and suddenly thought of a new doctor who headcanon so now I'm gonna share it and also some others because why not?!

- The Doctor has become something like a cryptid in the UK. With various people over the centuries having written accounts of this mysterious character known only as 'The Doctor', a person who wherever they travel, chaos is sure to follow. It's known that they travel in 'The Blue Box', and is almost always seen alongside one or more people they call their 'companions'. People claim to have met the doctor, that they saw a man in a long coat appear from a box that wasn't there a second ago. I also like to imagine former companions(especially Jack)giving fake anecdotes about their time with the Doctor, just for fun. The Doctor sees them and sometimes can't even remember if it's true or not. People from America travel over in hopes of spotting this mysterious Doctor. People see a man in a trench coat and either run for their fucking lives because they know shits about to go down, or they try to follow and join in because?? Magic blue box and chaos?? Fun!! Oh hey, you remember that girl Rose who straight up disappeared from the flat below you? You always think you notice a blue box in the corner of your eye as you walked into the building, and there was always a strange whining sound that was too mechanical to be pipes but sounds like nothing you've ever heard before. Yeah, it's because she was taken by the Doctor, chosen to be their companion, destined to leave one day and never be seen again. The missing posters come down but the people never come back. Peoples opinions vary on this shape-changing being - Parents warn their young girls to stay away from the Doctor, lest they get abducted, stolen away in the night. Teenagers try to find them, desperate to get away from their boring lives and overbearing parents and have a little adventure. Grandparents tell the kids personal accounts - the time their sister was saved by the Doctor, the time they thought they saw a blue box on the corner of the street but when they tried to look for it they couldn't see it.

- Everyone is Very Aware of aliens, it's just one of those things that you don't talk about. It's always bothered me how nearly every time a human sees a Dalek in newer episodes they go 'oh wow, what could this be? I have ever seen this before in my life!' as if millions of Daleks didn't get released above London and then sucked back into Canary Wharf where they magically disappeared from? Or like how Daleks are in the streets...very often. Or when that huge stadium of people straight up disappeared during the London Olympics then came back a bit later and it was never explained? Or how they all lived with what they thought where ghosts for an amount of time I don't remember but it was long enough anyway, and then those 'ghosts' became metal men? And the metal men?? Appear a lot?? Like in that one with Missy and they're all on the streets?? You'd think someone would go 'oh hey look is that thing I thought was my dead great aunt carol a few years back, what the fuck?'. At this point, I'm sure every person in the UK should be related to someone who died of alien related causes. And hey, remember the huge spaceship above London that time? And that other time? And the time the spaceship broke Big Ben? Or the time the Christmas star of death zapped a load of people? I think I've made my point - people know about aliens. So I'm gonna say that everyone is fully aware of aliens, they just...don't talk about it. It's a Thing.

- The TARDIS can control who the perception filter works on. This isn't really a big thing, just a little continuity issue I noticed, and maybe there was an explanation but if there is then I missed it. Please correct me if I'm wrong! But if you remember when Ten created the perception filters using the TARDIS keys for him, Jack and Martha - Martha knew of the effects of a perception filter, but she still couldn't help its effects in her. Yet the companions suddenly gain the ability to always see the TARDIS once they join the Doctor. Even though, using the same logic, they should still have their perception shifted despite knowing it is there. The way Martha puts it, she says 'it's like I know you're there, but I don't wanna know' or something similar to that. So conclusion - the TARDIS can decide if it wants people to see her. We know that she/it is sentient and conscious, so I don't see why not!

- So we know that due to the nature of Timelords, they don't really have a concept of gender like we do. Their biological sex is changeable, and because of that they don't have the same social constructs as we do. So, the reason they refer to themselves as male or female to humans is because of our own perceptions of gender, and the TARDIS translates it to be what would seem natural to us. So a male presenting doctor would call himself he, and female presenting would call herself she, because that is how we as humans perceive them. I imagine in Gallifreyan they maybe don't have separate pronouns, only one. I also imagine that 'Timelord' is just a very literal translation of their actual title, just because...well for one it's in English, which makes no sense, and also it's such an obnoxious title ahshsjsj.

- Sometimes the Doctor checks in on Donna to make sure she's okay. They still feel guilty about wiping her memory, even though it saved her life, so maybe they help her out in whatever little ways they can anonymously. Yaz asks Thirteen who the seemingly unimportant woman she's so interested in is, and Thirteen just smiles sadly and says 'An old friend'.

- The timeless child didn't happen. Pretty self explanatory - I just hate it, so I pretend it doesn't exist! Yay!

- Oh also the way I see Thirteen and her companions in my head is so different to how they're actually written because...Chibnall bad. MY Thirteen would never hand someone over the the bloody N*z*s, no matter what they had done, let alone someone they'd known their (very long) life and had loved? MY Thirteen wouldn't brush of Graham's fear about his cancer returning, nor would she support the hugeass Amazon metaphor (also when she blows up that guy, after giving him like a seconds warning?? What?!?). It actually hurts listening to Twelves goodbye speech and then watching Thirteens portrayal. The basis of their character is that they're kind, they do they best they can and they always help those in need. Twelve wouldn't have gone 'Oh no, I don't know what to say, silly old me, I'm so socially awkward bye' if someone he cared about came to him with their fears, because he can be silly and awkward and 'why are you wearing heels, do you need to reach a shelf?', but not when it's something like that. Also why is she so awkward? The Doctor has always been weird, but the difference is that in the past they have always known that they're weird and literally put it in just to embarrass/confuse people. And yeah, sometimes the Doctor genuinely doesn't understand 'human things'. But they do know how to act normal? The Doctor is perfectly capable of appearing human if they really needed to, but they have no problem saying shit to confuse people. But when Thirteen is awkward, she's just...cringeworthy awkward.

Sorry if my wording is bad and some of my memories of episodes are a bit wrong! I didn't check sources or anything I'm really just rambling here. This got way longer than I intended so well done(!!!) if you bothered to read all of it.

(I know my pronouns are all over the place, but when talking about the Doctor I tend to use 'they' when speaking of not any specific Doctor, and then 'she' for Thirteen and 'he' for the others.)

#doctor who #bbc doctor who #the doctor #headcanons #doctor who headcanons #headcanon list #this is a very long post which consists of me rambling about a show I love #been watching this show for most of my life #no matter how bad it gets I don't think I'll ever stop #unfortunately I haven't been able to watch classic who but im planning on soon!!#ramblings

16 notes · View notes

jyndor · 3 years

Note

Very specific thoughts. I started Doctor Who with season 5 so I think I have a lot of nostalgia about that era, but the thing is that Moffat really isn't showrunner material. He can write a beginning that intrigues you and an ending that makes you cry, but he skimps on the details. Like I was excited to see The Doctor and River Song's love story but by the end I was like, 'did I miss an episode or something' because I felt like they told us how epic they'd be but failed to show us the love. And I like Amy and Rory as individuals but I feel like Amy was just marrying him because she didn't know what to do with her life. And like the sexism. Who knew not wanting to take your spouse's name meant you were childish.

lol i am so triggered by anyone starting dw with season 5 😂 moffat's misogyny was always lurking in his writing (weird ass classism and sexism in girl in the fireplace, shunting martha out of the way entirely for some white oc during blink, everything about river song in the library episodes) but he was able to ride it out because he had a great showrunner in rtd, who despite his flaws was far better at keeping things grounded imo.

I love a lot about season five but season six pushed me to my limits lol. every woman moff wrote lived for the doctor - their lives revolved around him. and you can argue that the companions don't need the fleshed out families and regular lives that rtd gave them but I just find rose, martha and donna a million times more relatable and believable than amy, river and clara (never watched bill so I can't comment on her). I think moffat was going for amy in particular being very much like a fantasy character in a fairy tale, which works really well in s5 because all of the mystery and weirdness was new, but he just doesn't know how to bring it all together in a way that makes any kind of sense imo. which is why the climax of river's story in s6 failed so hard for me. ironically the best parts of amy's story for me came in season 7 because she kind of felt more... idk... like a real person instead of a fantasy, and also like I loved every river and amy scene ever like more mama daughter scenes plsss

clara felt refreshingly real after amy left when they weren't pushing the mystery nonsense. ad I don't even mind mystery! bad wolf is one of my favorite arcs ever of anything, but that is always about rose taking control of her life and making her own choices instead of like with clara being the puzzle box for the doctor to solve without her knowledge.

I stopped watching after the first few episodes of season nine but I heard actually moffat's last season was his best, which is great because I was seriously worried about how he would treat a Black lesbian. maybe someday I will go back and finish the show but honestly moffat killed doctor who for me, and it is hard for me to go back to something like that.

also river and the doctor's love story makes zero sense when all is said and done lmao like why does moff always write these little girls falling for the doctor 🤮🤮🤮

anyway i just got off work so idk if this is coherent lmao but thanks for sharing your thoughts because i always like to hear them

#asks #shewhotellsstories

20 notes · View notes

might-be-a-zygon · 3 years

Note

Ohhhh Thasmin and "are you kidding me?! you're not 'fine'!" OR River/13 and "i can't believe i almost lost you

This one got away from me a little, I’ll admit. It’s pretty angsty and features a lot of (canon) character death, so fair warning on that one.

I’ll add an AO3 link in the reblogs!

---

The Ghosts That Broke My Heart

Sleep had always been a funny thing for the Doctor. She certainly needed a lot less of it than her human friends, but it had always been a reliable break from whatever life chose to throw at her that week. She had dreams, like everyone did, but there was one thing which the Doctor didn’t really do.

She didn’t have nightmares.

Really, what would she have them about? The Doctor faced the creatures of nightmares every day. To some species, the Doctor was a creature of nightmares.

Still, after what had happened on Gallifrey? She’d found the creatures that could jolt her awake screaming.

Ghosts.

Whatever she’d done to overload the matrix had broken centuries of carefully constructed barriers, holding back the people she’d lost, and now her mind saw fit to make her relive each dark moment whenever she let her guard down to try and sleep.

It had started out right away- that first night in the Jadoon prison she’d laid down on the slab that passed for a bed, and closed her eyes to sleep.

“What does that mean?”

Jenny was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, all wide-eyes and excited smiles. The Doctor could recognise a lot of her own nervous energy in the young woman- ready to go off and explore the brave new world that awaited them. She also saw the gunman poised to take all that away in a moment.

It was like she was watching through thick glass. Poised on the sidelines, watching her past selves getting it all wrong over and over, but helpless to interfere. She slammed her palm against it, sending a too-real shooting pain through her arm, but making no audible sound.

“It means a new world.”

Sandshoes was grinning now, more genuine hope than she could ever really remember feeling shining in those eyes. He’d burned in the end- she remembered that much. He’d been angry. Vengeful.

The Timelord Victorious.

How different might things have been if he’d just turned around? The Doctor tried to speak, to shout for him to get her out of the way. Her voice didn’t make a sound.

She watched the happiness melt from Jenny’s face, even as Sandshoes maintained his stupid, complacent grin. The Doctor was pounding on the glass now, silently screaming that it wasn’t worth it, but of course she couldn’t change it. Jenny shoved Sandshoes out of the way, the bullet striking her square in the chest. Martha- brilliant Martha who she’d never once deserved- she knew right away there was no chance. She watched her past-self hold their dying daughter, and tell her of a future she’d never see, already knowing she was beyond saving. Lies had always fallen too easily from her tongue.

“You’re gonna be amazing, you hear me, Jenny?”

Had she even heard?

That first night, when she woke with a whine, curled up into a tight ball on her uncomfortable prison bed, the Doctor had attributed it to stress. She’d jumped haphazardly from Byron, to the cybermen, to Gallifrey, to prison with no time to clear her head. The Master always did funny things to her mind, anyway, it was normal there’d be some aftereffects.

Her hand ached from where she’d been slamming it into the ‘bed’.

She tried to shake the traitorous vision of Jenny- bright, young Jenny with so much potential sacrificing herself for the father she hardly knew. The father who would go on to do so much damage.

Against her better judgement, she’d turned over, and tried to get to sleep again. It was the last time she made that mistake.

The first thing the Doctor heard this time, was screaming.

She was on a ship, which certainly wasn’t her TARDIS. It took her a minute to recognise the place- but, maybe that made the whole thing even worse. Somebody was screaming for her help, and she couldn’t even remember who it was.

She stood there, behind whatever barrier her mind had constructed to stop her interfering, and watched the doddering old fool she’d been back then just stand there while a good woman was in trouble just feet away. She could have reopened the airlock doors- she’d known how- but she’d been so desperate to look for a way around it, that she’d left Katarina there screaming.

“Change course.” The Doctor in front of her finally ordered. “Take him back to Kembel. Take him back to Kembel! Let the Daleks deal with him.”

In that moment the Doctor looked into her own eyes and saw a spark of that ruthless fire which would one day burn galaxies. It was that same fire that made her risk tearing time apart for Clara Oswald- the fire that burned too brightly. If she was feeling generous, she might have called it admirable, that she was willing to fight so unbelievably hard for the people she loved.

Right now, she called it selfishness.

Steven stepped towards the old Doctor, his anger doing a poor job at masking his fear. “Yes, and us!”

“Don't worry, dear boy, We'll find a way out.” The Doctor cringed at her first face (or, the first face she remembered), while standing in her glass prison. Her methods of comfort hadn’t come on any in three thousand years. She was still a liar.

Both of the men who’d been with her bck then had been afraid. Bret had even tried arguing with her, but the Doctor had never been an easy person to argue with.

“I can't sacrifice everything for the sake of that one girl.” He argued, still at the controls. Luckily, she was spared the embarrassment of having to watch her former self argue by Steven stepping in.

“Listen! Without us you wouldn't have got off Kembel at all, and nothing would be worth bothering about!”

“All right, so we all go back together. But without me, I doubt that you would have got this far either.” Bret had given in quickly enough, and all the while the Doctor just stood and watched, and listened to Katarina’s frightened screaming in the airlock.

She watched as Katarina broke free and hit the release for the airlock. She watched as both her and Kirksen were sucked out into space. She watched, and knew that that girl- that girl who was so brave in the face of so much danger- had sacrificed herself so the three of them could get away.

Her hearts ached, as she thought of a dozen ways she could have saved her, if she’d tried harder.

“She wanted to save our lives and perhaps the lives of all the other beings of the Solar System.” The old Doctor in front of her began to make his silly speech, and the Doctor turned away, revolted at her own self-importance. “I hope she's found her Perfection. Oh, how I shall always remember her as one of the Daughters of the Gods. Yes, as one of the Daughters of the Gods.”

Rule one.

She hadn’t thought about Katarina in centuries. That poor, brave woman, who had made the ultimate sacrifice to keep them all alive, and the Doctor hadn’t even bothered to remember her.

The Doctor had awoken, still curled up on that cold stone slab, unable to shake the revulsion at her own actions. Was she still like that man? So pompous as to think that every being in the universe made their decisions based around her.

She hadn’t tried to sleep again, after that, shifting to lay on her back, staring at the celling, and trying to shake what somewhere, deep down, she knew.

There were very, very good reasons, she was in prison.

At first, it was always death. Faces she’d remembered, and ones she’d long since forgotten, all meeting their end because the Doctor had failed to save them.

“It snapped my neck, Sir. It wasn’t as painless as I expected, but it was pretty quick, so that was something.”

Angel Bob.

The Doctor had forgotten all about Angel Bob. He was young, and clever, and he was so scared, and she had just walked away and forgotten all about him, as though he’d never even existed.

She could see the look on the faces of the others- the muted horror on River’s, and the more pronounced look of it on her mother’s, as well as the well-managed grief of the soldiers who’d fought with him. They were all ghosts, now. Amy, River, the soldiers. All blown away like smoke on the wind.

“If you’re dead how can I be talking to you?” She tried not to think about the genuine interest her former self’s voice held in that moment- a man had just died, and Bowtie was curious about the mechanics.

“You’re not talking to me, Sir. The angel has no voice. It stripped my cerebral cortex from my body and reanimated a version of my consciousness to communicate with you. Sorry about the confusion.”

She tried her absolute best not to think too hard about how conscious the original Bob was at that moment. Had he known what had happened to him? Had he felt the angels turn him into their puppet?

She watched as Bowtie told them all to run- to run into the maze of weeping angels with no plan, and to just trust him, and she watched as he stopped behind to defend himself.

“Yes, I called you an idiot, and I’m sorry-“ He didn’t sound sorry at all, but the Doctor in her glass cage watching it play out certainly was, “But I couldn’t have saved your men.”

“I know that, Sir. And when you’ve flown off in your little blue box, I’ll explain that to their families.”

She watched, sick to her stomach, as Bowtie smirked.

“I’ll have to tell his mother.”

Seeing Rose, even after all this time, was still painful. This was only the second day they’d met, back before they’d travelled together. Before she’d managed to soften the war ravaged Doctor standing in front of her now.

The Ears had been one of her shortest lived, and angriest faces, and the ways he’d treated people were downright cruel at times. She saw the questioning look he gave Rose, clueless in the face of Mickey’s apparent demise, and why she’d be at all upset.

Why Rose hadn’t walked away then and there would forever be a mystery to the Doctor. She’d never once deserved that kind of love.

“Mickey” I’ll have to tell his mother he’s dead, and you just went and forgot him, again! You were right, you are alien.”

Alien didn’t have to mean cruel, though. So why did callousness seem to come so easily to her? Maybe it was just the sheer amount of death she’d witnessed, but it still hurt to see. She had to keep reminding herself that this death, at least, hadn’t been real- that Mickey was alive and living on earth, raising a son with his dad’s eyes and his mum’s brains who’d have the whole world talking in a few years.

At least it was a good reminder of why she was staying away from August Smith.

“Look, if I did forget some kid called Mickey-“

“Yeah, he’s not a kid-“

The Ears cut Rose off before she could keep speaking, but the Doctor watching from the side-lines found herself nodding in agreement. Rose was right. Of course Rose was right.

“It’s because I’m busy trying to save the life of every stupid ape blundering about on top of this planet! Alright?”

“Alright!”

“Yes, it is!” Ears sounded insufferably smug.

The Doctor shook her head in disgust, glancing at Rose and quietly muttering, “Why did you ever put up with me?”

“Look out!”

It was another voice she hadn’t heard in a long time, and one she’d frankly been dreading hearing. If Nyssa was here she had a good idea of what she was about to see. She saw the cybermen coming up behind her back, while her fifth-self fumbled with the controls. It was as good as useless.

A cyberman lumbered up behind her, and her past-self ignored it completely, leaving Nyssa to have to shoot it down with a discarded cyberweapon. She was once again saved by a more competent friend, and her own hypocrisy when it came to guns.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever even thanked Nyssa for saving her life.

“I must save Adric!”

Stuck in the corner, exhausted and emotionally drained, the Doctor was just glad that, while she was having to watch another of her failures, this version of herself was at the very least trying.

“Look!”

“Adric.”

The screen came to life, and the Doctor tried to shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch, but of course it didn’t work- in her dreams she wouldn’t be allowed to block out the parts she didn’t want to see. The only consolation was that she wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes.

She’d always been cowardly like that.

She watched as the ship began to come apart- watched as Tegan and Nyssa held each other, and Celery just stood there gawping like a fish who couldn’t believe his own incompetence.

She still remembered that feeling- like someone had clawed the hearts out of her chest and shown them to her. Back then, it’d been such a long time since she’d really lost someone that she wasn’t used to the pain of it anymore.

When had she become careless enough that death just bounced off of her?

It only took ten days of reliving her worst moments before the Doctor had begun actively fighting sleep. Prison, at least, was a safe enough place to do it. She’d pace her cell at night to keep herself from drifting off- reciting books she knew by heart, or just talking to herself to keep her eyes from closing for too long. During the day, she’d do the same- chatting to the other prisoners, pacing, never letting herself remain still for fear of finally giving into the exhaustion which seemed to have seeped into her bones.

Of course, even a Time Lord (if she could even call herself one anymore), couldn’t stay awake forever. After weeks of forcing her eyes to stay open, she’d eventually collapse, usually when she was in her cell, if she was lucky, and she’d endure another walkthrough her past- too exhausted to even wake up- before being woken by the prison systems to begin all over again.

After a while she’d slip into waking dreams, too exhausted to even think straight. She’d sit in her cell, nutrient block in hand, while her sleep deprived mind played out snippets of her life, a few seconds at a time, while she fought to wake up enough to dismiss the visions.

At first, when she next saw herself- sitting on a bench, eating chips, she thought maybe this was just her mind crying out for some real food. It was easy to forget the specifics of what had been discussed all those years before, after twenty years sitting in a cell.

“She scares me.” Came Bill’s voice from next to the older-Doctor, quiet in its honesty. Admitting you were scared was something so few people ever did- least of all when they were around the Doctor, and being brave was so important, but Bill had never been afraid to admit it to her. She’d been strong like that. “Like. She really scares me.”

As much as she still, after all this time, wanted the Master to be everything she knew he could be, it was hard to deny how right Bill had been to be afraid. After all- it was the Master who’d handed her over to the cybermen, in the end, just not the version she’d feared.

“Okay. Just, promise me one thing, yeah? Just promise you won’t get me killed.”

“I can’t promise you that!” Eyebrows had laughed at her, as though her concerns were something flippant. As though her fear was something worth laughing at. He’d been right, in the end, he hadn’t been able to keep Bill alive, but it was horrible looking back at it now.

The Doctor had managed to shock herself back into reality, but she hadn’t been able to shake the self-contempt that settled in her hearts.

Most of the time, those waking nightmares came while she was stuck sitting around, waiting for the time to come that she’d be allowed out into her tiny cube of the exercise yard, just for something to break up the routine of sitting alone, and thinking about death.

“I keep remembering all the people I’ve killed. Every day I think of more. Being bad- Being bad drowned that out. I didn’t know I even knew their names. You didn’t tell me about this bit.”

“I’m sorry, but this is good.”

“Okay.”

The Doctor watched herself hold her self-ascribed goodness over her oldest friend, and couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t what had driven the Master to the depths of madness he’d displayed on Gallifrey. She might have lorded it as a good thing back then, but she was quickly learning the types of things that isolation, imprisonment, and guilt could do to the mind. If she got out of prison with her sanity, she’d count it a blessing.

She’d dreamt about Missy a lot, after a while. The longer she stayed locked up, the more her guild-addled mind saw fit to remind her of her stint as jailor.

On those nights she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open, the Doctor saw herself through the glass again. It was her twelfth face- well, the twelfth she remembered- the one with the angry eyebrows and the trusting nature. She saw Missy standing there, looking more dishevelled than she had before the vault, standing so close to the forcefield that it was rippling. She looked strangely earnest despite the pantomime of madness she put o- as though she was proud of herself for actually helping.

She watched as Eyebrows shoved Bill back away from Missy, not seeming to care much about how what had just transpired had clearly affected her. She’d never been good enough for Bill- the kind, inquisitive girl who’d gone out of her way to buy the Doctor Christmas presents and who’d called her grandad, and who she’d promised she wouldn’t get killed. Bill who had been so strong, who had fought off the monks and the cybermen by sheer force of will. Bill who’d deserved so much more than what the Doctor had given to her.

She watched Eyebrows walk up to that rippling forcefield, and look his oldest friend in the eyes like she was still the monster she pretended to be.

“Even if that was the truth the fact that you’re suggesting it shows that there’s been no change. No hope. No point.”

Eyebrows sounded angry, and the Doctor winced slightly at that. How was the Master ever supposed to change with the Doctor constantly telling her that her progress meant nothing? Was that why she’d given up in the end? It had to be easier to go back to what you’d known before rather than being constantly strung along and put down by someone who had promised to help you become better.

Missy’s face contorted for a moment. The Doctor left her here for months, all alone in this dusty room with almost nothing, and then he’d turned up just to talk to her like this? Her Twelfth face was one of the few she’d always thought of as good- or, if not good, at least kind. Sandshoes had been angry from the war and from everything he’d lost, but Eyebrows had tried so hard to be kind. Was this really what her version of kind did to people?

After her own stint in prison, leaving Missy trapped like this for so long was beginning to seem more and more cruel. She’d wanted to help people, she really had, but it wasn’t as though her friend had come to her and asked. She’d saved her, and then abused that power, keeping her prisoner for decades to try and make her into something she’d never tried to be. It was hard, knowing what had later become of the Master, not to wonder what all that time in the vault had done to their already fragile mental state. How much had she contributed to his snapping and destroying their home?

Looking at it like that how was the Doctor any better than the Jadoon? And how was Missy running off with the Master much different from her running with Jac They’d both been escaping jailors who kept them confined alone for long enough to drive them half-mad.

“We don’t sacrifice people.” The scene playing out in front of her was hardly easy, but the Doctor laughed anyway, because the irony of that wasn’t lost on her. She’d let so many people die for her as Rainbows that Eyebrows’ words felt hollow. “It’s wrong because it’s easy.”

“Back in the day I’d burn an entire city to the ground just to see the pretty shapes the smoke made. I’m sorry your plus one doesn’t get a happy ending, but like it or not I just saved this world because I want to change.”

There was a forced lightness to Missy’s voice, almost undetectable unless you really knew her well- and the Doctor knew her better than anybody. It’d been a cry for help, of sorts- she’d wanted her friend back, and Eyebrows had ignored her. She’d saved the world- the Doctor would have likely spent months searching for infected water supplies and food chains following up his own stupid theories, and Missy had told him the answer freely, and without reward. She’d saved the world and he’d told her there was no hope for her- no wonder she’d run.

“Your version of good is not absolute.” She continued, her fingers pushing slightly against the forcefield now. The Doctor watched it ripple from behind he own glass patrician, and she knew the look in Missy’s eyes far too well. If that forcefield had been replaced with glowing blue bars it could have been her in her own cell. At least during her imprisonment she hadn’t had to live with the knowledge that her oldest friend was her jailor. “It’s vain, arrogant, and sentimental.”

Vain, arrogant and sentimental.

She always had said the Master knew her soul a little too well.

Once the spectre of death faded, somewhat, it was her own shortcomings her subconscious decided to force onto her. Those moments when she’d forced others into complying with what she’d wanted- as though that was always her decision to make.

She was the Doctor, after all. Who would ever dare to question her whims as anything less than genius?

“You know you can fix that chameleon circuit if you just tried hot-wiring the fragment links and superseding the binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary-“

Not this. Not Donna. How was this fair? At least with Jenny she hadn’t seen the gunman. She could see it in her past-self’s face that he knew this was killing her, and he was just standing there like an idiot, watching it happen. He could have stepped in sooner.

“I’m fine.” Donna was showing off that big grin, back to talking a mile-a-minute. The Doctor had always wondered if on some level she knew what this would do. She had all of that knowledge inside her head, it must have been somewhere in her all along that she’d become an impossible thing.

She didn’t pound on the glass or scream this time, watching her own past unfold with her hand pressed up against it. She mouthed I’m sorry, but no sound came out.

“I bet he’s great, Charlie Chaplin. Shall we do that? Shall we go see Charlie Chaplin? Shall we? Charlie Chaplin. Charlie Chester. Charlie Brown- no he’s fiction-“ She watched as Donna pranced around, playing with the console and the phone. This wasn’t quite Donna- not really. This Donna was far too Doctor- maybe that was why she found it so unsettling, seeing her charming, funny, irreverent friend talking like someone she hated.

“Friction, fiction, fixing, mixing, Rickston, Brixton-“ Donna cut off with a gasp, and the Doctor wanted to slap Sandshoes for leaving her in this state. She had to be scared, and he wasn’t even bothering to explain it to her. Of course, with that much of the Doctor’s mind burning through her own, Donna had probably understood it all already, but there was still something to be said for compassion in a situation as horrific as this one.

“I was gonna be with you forever.” The sadness in Donna’s eyes spoke volumes. She’d trusted the Doctor so much, had so much planned for them, and it was all the Doctor’s fault.

If her hearts hadn’t already shattered they did now. Nobody ever stayed with her forever- not really. Even if she wanted them to, she’d always destroy them before they got a chance.

She was on the floor, kneeling on the dirty floor of a TARDIS she’d long since tried to forget. When had that happened?

“I know.”

She screwed her eyes shut, grateful that this time, at least, she managed to block out the visuals- maybe because this time, the sound of Donna begging for something the Doctor was too selfish to give her was enough. She wouldn’t watch Sandshoes lie to her like that- like he’d lied to Jenny, and to Bob, and to Steven. Pretty words to ease the pain she was about to put her through.

“I can’t go back. Doctor. Please. Please don’t make me go back.”

Listening to her beg wasn’t any easier than watching it. Or living it- especially now she knew just how painful it was to have your memories taken from you. Gallifrey may have erased her path, but she’d run roughshod over her friend’s mind just as carelessly.

“Donna Noble. I am so sorry. But we had the best of times.” Was that supposed to make either of them feel better? She’d been so self-righteous back then. The Doctor opened her eyes again, and regretted it almost immediately, curling in on herself behind her little partition. “Goodbye.”

“No. No! No please! No. No! No!”

Staying awake proved easier once she’d left prison.

During her incarceration, it had only been the thought of getting home to her fam which had really kept her going, so having Yaz back at her side was a real boost to her mood, which kept those waking nightmares at bay.

The running helped too- adrenaline in her system keeping the more dangerous effects of her sleep-deprivation at bay. Still, it didn’t mean that nights didn’t come where she came down from that high of finally being able to help again, and her tiredness came crashing down on her like a crushing weight.

This time, it came after a particularly harsh day.

She was getting sloppy in her exhausted state, and that sloppiness had put Yaz in far greater danger than she’d ever wanted to risk again. She’d told herself, that after the cybermen, and the daleks, she’d be more careful, but then all of a sudden there they were, stuck in a trap she should have been able to spot, if she was thinking clearly.

They’d been held hostage for longer than she was willing to admit- some scrapper who was very keen on getting hold of the TARDIS- not that he really knew what it was or what significance it held. No, for this man the greatest ship in the universe was worth some spare parts, and whatever the scrap value of its base components was.

They’d gotten out, in the end, but it wasn’t as though she could even take credit for that- it was quick thinking on Yaz’s part which had distracted their attacker for long enough for them to get to the TARDIS. As impressive as it was, it was still terrifying to see Yaz be so like her in the way she acted. The last person who’d wanted to be the Doctor had gotten killed trying to do so.

She’d hardly said a word once they returned to the ship, trying her best to ignore the furtive looks of concern she kept getting. She slipped off to the library alone when Yaz went to make a cup of tea, getting there on her fourth attempt (since the TARDIS seemed insistent on placing her room behind every door she opened), and counting on the near-infinite nature of the TARDIS rooms to hide her for a while. She needed a little space while she cleared her head and tried to get rid of some of the overwhelming guilt that was eating her up inside.

She could have gotten Yaz killed today with her carelessness. If Yaz wasn’t as good as she was, she would have gotten them both killed.

No matter what horrors from her past her brain decided to drudge up, a world without Yaz was still a terrifying thought.

“I’m not asking you for a promise. I’m giving you an order.”

She really didn’t want to see this.

The Doctor had not gotten her memories back just so she could watch Clara Oswald face the raven all over again. Even in prison her mind hadn’t been cruel enough to remind her of that particular death. She remembered the others- Oswin, and the governess she’d met in London, and a hundred other Clara’s who’d died to save her- but this one had never come up.

Evidently, her subconscious thought she needed a reminder of what happened when she took her eyes off things for a moment too long.

“You will not insult my memory. There will be no revenge. I will die, and no one else here, or anywhere, will suffer.”

Well there was a promise the Doctor hadn’t managed to keep. She’d tried to tear time itself apart to save Clara, and worst of all, she’d never even known if it succeeded. Testimony didn’t remember whether Clara had lived or died- it’d been taken the moment before the raven hit- before the Doctor had tried to pull her from her timeline. She had no memory of anything that’d happened with Clara after this, and while she knew they’d been together on Gallifrey, she didn’t know how permanent that salvation might be, or what about it had taken her memories to begin with.

“What about me?” Eyebrows asked, and the Doctor who was watching him managed a harsh, bitter laugh. Clara was dying, and as usual her former self was there to be selfish and make her comfort him.

“If there was something I could do about that I would. I guess we’ll both just need to be brave.”

“Clara-“ He was trying to argue again, but all at once she was pulling him into a hug, and looking at the desperation of it from the outside, the Doctor just knew that Clara was trying to pull some comfort from it too, since Eyebrows hadn’t been offering her any.

She’d been human, and she’d been dying, and she’d been scared, but she’d forced herself to be brave so her friend didn’t have to be.

Looking back on it, Clara had always been so much stronger than the Doctor had ever been.

“Don’t run.” It had to be the first time she’d ever said that to one of her friends in a bad spot. “Stay with me.” Eyebrows was practically begging her now. Worse than that, the Doctor knew that if she had to go back and do it again, she wouldn’t be any stronger.

“Nah.” She could see how heard Clara was working to keep her tone casual, not wanting to hurt the Doctor any more than this whole thing already would. It was heart breaking, really, knowing that even in her final moments she’d had to suppress her own feelings to try and save her pain. “You stay here. In the end everybody does this alone.”

She shouldn’t have had to do it alone.

“Clara-“ Eyebrows tried again, and if the Doctor wasn’t stuck in her self-imposed cell, she might have hit him. This was his last chance- why couldn’t he say something to her? Why couldn’t he make sure that she died knowing how deeply she was loved.

“This is as brave as I know how to be. I know it’s gonna hurt you but- please. Be a little proud of me?”

There was a hopeful note to Clara’s tone despite everything, and in the end that was what really broke the Doctor. Her hand was pressed against the glass, desperate to say something, but unable to- the sands of time separated them more surely than the glass ever could.

“Always.” She promised, because if Eyebrows wouldn’t say it, then this new Doctor would. “I’m always gonna be proud of you.”

Clara turned away from her, and walked towards her grave.

“No no no no…”

The Doctor’s eyes blinked open, giving her a hazy view of the warm purple walls of the TARDIS library. She was curled up in one of the armchairs near the fire, her eyes still heavy with sleep. How long had it been since she’d last slept? Weeks, at least. Maybe months. And since she’d last slept properly? Well that had been decades.

Her hands ached from where she’d been clutching onto the arms of the chair.

Her eyes were already falling closed again, too exhausted to even force herself to stay awake.

“If you die here it’ll mean I never even met you.”

She’d never really appreciated how true that statement was. Without the Doctor blundering through her mother’s life, River Song would never have existed. Melody Williams (would she even have been called Melody, with the paradox of her name?) would have grown up safe and happy, the human daughter of the journalist and the nurse. She’d have had a normal life. She’d have been raised by loving parents, and have had a happy childhood, and maybe even brothers and sisters- maybe she’d have still written books, or taught archelogy, and had a much happier marriage than theirs had been.

Melody Pond would have been so much better off if she had never met the Doctor.

“Time can be rewritten.” For once, she seemed to be in agreement with Sandshoes. He was selfish, but at least he’d have been doing her a favour.

“Not those times. Not one line. Don't you dare. It's okay. It's okay. It's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me, time and space. You watch us run.”

Live great lives. That’s what she’d told her fam. If anyone had lived up to that, and lived a great life despite the Doctor’s meddling, it had been River Song. They’d had some amazing times, saved so many people, so many planets. There were stars out there still burning because River Song had been there to save them.

If the Doctor had found a better way around getting the people out of there, there might have been so many more.

The computer counting down the seconds left of her life in the background wasn’t helping the way that the Doctor’s hearts were pounding. She was crying, now- she wasn’t sure when that had begun.

From her cell, she watched Sandshoes babble on about his guilt- his suspicions, being expertly put down by River. She was so used to shutting him up when he was talking about things he didn’t know anything about- she could really use that, right now.

She should have saved her.

“Hush now. Spoilers…”

River smiled, and the Doctor lunged at the glass in front of her, shouting words that even she could barely comprehend. She was still clawing desperately at the glass when the room flashed bright white.

The Time Lord didn’t even fully wake that time, despite having thrown herself onto the floor at some point during her anguish. She was barely drawn out of her nightmares for a moment, a noise that sounded awfully like a whimper escaping her. Her eyes were shut too-tightly, and she had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, fingernails digging into her arms as though that would protect her from the horrors of her own mind.

“Who decides they’re so unimportant? You?”

The Doctor knew where she was this time without even looking up. Somehow, this scared her even more. She wasn’t watching a loved one die, she was watching her own stupid power-play blow up in her face. This hadn’t been a mercy mission, it’d been her trying to prove to the whole Universe that the Doctor had power over all.

“For a long time now I thought I was just a survivor, but I’m not. I’m the winner- that’s who I am. The Time Lord victorious.”

“And there’s no one to stop you?”

“No.”

“This is wrong, Doctor. I don’t care who you are. The Time Lord victorious is wrong.”

Captain Adelaide. She’d been so brilliant- she’d understood more about this than her idiot younger self ever could. The Doctor just about managed to give her a smile from behind her glass wall before she resumed staring at Sandshoes in disgust.

“That’s for me to decide. Now, you better get home.”

It was chilling. Watching her old face shift so quickly. Darkness turned cocky in an instant as he pointed his sonic at the door. Unlike with the other dreams, The Doctor wasn’t shouting. She didn’t try to say a word, just watched on with self-loathing and dread weighing down her hearts. A silent spectator of her darkest moment since the Time War.

Sandshoes smirked at that brave, doomed woman, challenging her to argue her fate further. He’d set himself up as a self-styled God. “Oh it’s all locked up- you’ve been away. Still, that’s easy.”

“Is there nothing you can’t do?”

“Not anymore.”

She watched as the great Time Lord Victorious turned his back on Adelaide. She watched as the captain drew her gun. She braced herself for that flash of blue light and the thud of a body hitting the floor.

“Don’t do it, Adelaide.” She was talking to nobody, but she still couldn’t help herself trying to butt in- trying to fix the damage she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t-“

“Doctor?”

A hand on her shoulder drew her out of there before she had to watch that, jolting her awake. She came to, immediately caught off guard by the shadow of someone standing over her, and the scent of a familiar perfume hitting her. It took her a moment or so to place it, but when she did her hearts picked up a little. Yaz. Brilliant, wonderful, human Yaz who’d probably just heard her rambling all sorts of scary nonsense in her sleep.

“Doctor are you alright?”

The Doctor swallowed a little too hard and sat up quickly enough to make her head spin, forcing a familiar, false grin to spread across her face. Her body was aching from sleeping on the wooden floor, and she was pretty sure she was going to be bruised from where she’d fallen off the chair.

“Yaz! Yasmin Khan- Sorry, must have nodded off-“ Her voice sounded a little false even to her own ears, and she did her best to pass it off with a yawn.

“Sorry, just, you were talkin’ in your sleep an’ I thought-“ Yaz looked a little sheepish about waking her, and her eyes were full of concern.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry- Time Lord. Vivid dreams- I was…” She forced another yawn, trying to give herself time to think of a lie. “Did I ever tell you about the time I met a real life siren on a pirate ship? That was a good one, that. Dream about that one a lot. M’fine, though. Really.”

Yaz shot her a look that showed she didn’t believe the Doctor for a moment. There was a beats pause, before she exploded

“Are you kiddin’ me?! You’re not ‘fine’!” She drew air quotes around that last word, straightening up, to stand over the Doctor, showing she was serious.

“I’m-“

“I swear if you say ‘fine’ I’m gonna-”

The Doctor shut her mouth before Yaz could finish the threat.

There was a tense moment, almost like a standoff between the two of them, before Yasmin’s hard eyes softened, and she bent down to help the Doctor to her feet.

“I’m worried about y’.”

Suppressing her initial urge to insist that she was fine, the Doctor bit her lip.

“You shouldn’t be.” She eventually managed.

“When was the last time ‘y slept?” Yaz asked.

“About a minute ago.” The Doctor tried to make a joke. Yaz laughed weakly.

“Before that.” She clarified, glancing at the floor where she’d found the doctor collapsed.

“…I don’t remember.” The Doctor admitted.

Yaz sucked in a surprised breath through clenched teeth.

“Doctor-“

“I’m not human. I don’t need as much sleep as you lot.”

Raising an eyebrow, Yaz gave her another of those easy, disbelieving looks. “And that’s why I found you passed out on the floor cryin’?”

The Doctor blinked, bringing her hand up to her face. Sure enough, she’d been crying- she hadn’t even realised. Waking up with tears in her eyes was just normal by now.

“What’s so bad that it’s keepin’ you up?” Yaz leant forwards, taking one of the Doctor’s hands in both of her own. “Please don’t lie to me.”

There was an earnestness in her eyes that reminded the Doctor of all the people she’d loved most. Rose, Amy, River, Clara. Even Koschei. She’d always liked the people who could be honest with her the best- she needed honest people to stop her tearing herself apart and taking everyone else with her.

“I’ve lost a lot of people, Yaz.” She said, resigned note in her voice. “You saw Gallifrey. My home world is gone, my wife is gone, my children are gone, my granddaughter is gone. I’ve lost most of my friends, and- since Gallifrey, I can’t block them out anymore. I see them die every night.”

All at once, Yaz leaned forwards, just like Clara had in her dream, wrapping her arms tightly around the Doctor, holding her grounded to the spot. Even that brief contact allowed some of the tension in the Doctor’s body to loosen, her shoulder’s slumping as she leant into the contact.

“’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

Yaz pulled herself back from the hug, keeping her hands firmly on the Doctor’s arms, so she could ground her while looking her in the eyes.

“Have you got a bedroom on board?” She asked.

“Somewhere. How come?”

Yaz smiled, “Because you’ve gotta sleep sometime, and I think it’s probably comfier than the floor.” She let one of her hands fall, the other moving up to brush the hair out of the Doctor’s eyes. “Come on.”

She caught Yaz’s wrist in her hand, suddenly looking nervous. She was really worried where her subconscious would go from what had to be one of the worst things she’d ever done. “I don’t wanna. Not yet.”

“Y’ need to.” Yaz insisted, still trying her best to smile. The Doctor recognised that look from how often she herself wore it- that false-cheer that just barely covered the worry. “I promise I’ll sit with y’ the whole time- I can wake you up if you start makin’ noise.”

The Doctor thought about that for a minute. It’d certainly been easier to deal with the dream about Adelaide since she’d been pulled out of it before she actually had to hear the shot go off. If Yaz could pull her out of the bad moments before she had to see anything too bad- Maybe it would let the Doctor get a bit of sleep. It wasn’t the most elegant solution, and it didn’t seem as though it would last too long, but- it was an infinitely better one than her current plan of depriving herself of sleep until she could hardly stand.

“You really wouldn’t mind?” She eventually asked, her fingers still resting around Yaz’s wrist, though she wasn’t trying to use them to push her away any more.

“I love you. Let me take care of you, for once.”

There was another slight pause, before the Doctor let go of her hand, nodding. “Okay.”

Yaz let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?” The Doctor turned to her, genuine confusion etched across her features.

Yaz took another step closer, cupping the Doctor’s face in one hand, and giving her the most genuine smile either of them had shared since they’d reunited. “For letting me in.”

#thirteenth doctor #doctor who #thasmin #yasmin khan #yaz khan #madeathing

11 notes · View notes

dreamerwriternstargazer · 3 years

Note

Everyone needs a distraction sometimes, so open the gates of soliloquy, step out, stare up at the starry skies and tell me: what does Doctor Who mean to you ?

I quite literally did stare up at the stars for a little bit today so I could answer this XD What does Doctor Who mean to me....the short answer, the best one, the most poetic one: the evergrowing expanse of fantasies, of kindness, and of love. Consider that to be the core idea, the thesis statement, to my soliloquy though, since you asked for one. When I was a little girl one of the first memories I have is of being in my grandparents house and seeing Rose and 10 on TV, I remember being a little obsessed with those two actually because of the adoring way he looked at her, and because of how powerful I thought Rose was. She’s far from my favourite companion now but her and 10 hold a special place in my heart as the first faces I remember watching on TV. When I got a bit older, maybe 7? I saw a bit of the Christmas Invasion, the whole time I was waiting for Rose to appear but then the Raknos spider lady scared me and I never finished it, I couldn’t sleep for weeks and my mum banned me from ever watching the show (I wasn’t really allowed to watch it in the first place). I was quite alright with that, but I eventually got round to watching the show again. This time, an episode from Martha’s era, New New York the rerun, and I loved it, saw The Eleventh Hour as well and I loved that, but I was still too frightened of any monsters there were so I avoided the show. It wasn’t until 2013, the anniversary episode, that I finally properly sat down and fell in love with the show. What made me fall in love with it, what did it mean to me? As I said, the fantasy, the kindness, and the love held in it. I think I fell in love with it way back when I first saw it, I just needed some time to grow into it. Whatever it was that interested me all those years ago, that dormant fascination I had, awoke the second I saw Clara and 11 onscreen and their unbeatable chemistry (or so I thought at the time). Not only the chemistry between them, the best friends, the Impossible Girl and the Impossible Doctor, but the sheer....ethereality and at times ridicule of the story, the perfect blend of emotional, and humorous. You’re giggling over 10 and 11 bantering and messing with War, then you’re depressed because “how many children were on Gallifrey that day?”. You’re impressed and empowered (I was at least) by Clara’s confidence, her courage even when in grave danger, her dry wit towards the boys as they “show off” and then deeply touched at those big brown eyes and the sorrowful compassion she holds in them, as she tells the Doctor, reminds him, of the standard he holds himself to. “You told me what your name meant once”. The moment I realised that the Doctor was a girl as well, and she was a Doctor that day, as she always has been. Everyone has one Doctor that is theirs and while I would definitely name 12 as my Doctor, I think Clara came first. She was the reason I kept watching after 11 became 12, because of course I was deeply saddened by that, but in time, came around again because of Clara, and stayed for...Whouffaldi. Whouffaldi does have the greatest claim on my love for Doctor Who because they, as a story, embody everything I love about the show. The extreme kindness that the Doctor is, and should be, the love that is held in every act he commits for the universe. There’s losses, of course, but there’s this unbound idealism to their time in the TARDIS together. “If you have 2 choices and you don’t like either of them, make a 3rd choice” - a concept I think that is held throughout the entirety of Clara’s run, the standard she holds him to, but it’s never shown quite as blatantly as the both of them standing at the end of the universe, and all she needs to do is clasp his hand in hers, and ask him to stop. The fantasy aspect is not only the various and illuminating worlds they travel to, the dangers they face and tackle (if it was, then well apparently London is a fantasy since one of my favourite 2 parters is the Zygon Invasion/Zygon Inversion, for the beautiful and heart wrenching analogy for war that plays like a faint symphony in the

background right until the climax where it rises to an unforgettable crescendo) but the way they tackle it, the hope at the heart of every adventure. Whouffaldi is a romantic fantasy, a completely equal and loving relationship, the woman uplifted as far as she is to growing into his true equal as no other has, and in some ways better because of the power of compassion she holds and holds him to, however the fantasy element of the show is just the sheer idea of....the everyday ordinary person getting to run off into space, and do the most daring things, finding the bravery in themselves that they never knew they had, and equally, finding the extreme capacity for human kindness that they hold in their hearts. There’s a great deal of difference between RTD and Moffat era companions, with the most distinct one being that Moffat companions more overtly teach the Doctor of their humanity and this is conveyed through Moffat’s brilliant framing of the everyday as the ethereal, but at its core it is always this mad and entrancing alien who is made his best by the humans he love, by his Companions. Companions, such an archaic term don’t you think, for a friend? The show could easily call them his friends, they are, but they choose to stick with Companion in canon as well as out of it. And one could argue it’s due to the legacy of the show, but I prefer to think of the implications narratively, it’s a romanticism, there’s a connotation of a deep bond to the title of Companion. They keep him company, they are his comfort, they ground him as nothing else does, these “mayflies living for a day”. Companion is the one word summary, the one word answer, to this question, because the strength and weight of the stories are given by the companion, because we see it all anew with every new soul who enters those big blue doors, we are risen to courage and kindness with each new character who rises under each adventure. Whether it’s the Girl In The Shop and the Last Of The Time Lords, the Girl Who Waited and her Raggedy Man, The Impossible Girl and her Daft Old Man, whether it’s only to cross paths for a day or to be bound together til the end of time (or as can be the case with this very topsy turvey show, both), whether platonic or romantic, as caretaker, imaginary friend, lover, husband or teacher, the unrelenting power and commonality to every adventure, every story, is the Companion, is us, living the fantasy of fantasies. The dream of the impossible, of being ordinary and daring to run through space and time being as brave and kind as possible, seeing all the wonders over and over again, never the same because nothing is ever the same, and doing the best they can to make some kind of difference in the universe, without even realising they’re doing it, finding that ordinary is a special sort of extraordinary. If the Doctor offers the whole universe, within those doors, the Companion offers their soul in the humanity they teach him, in the moment they love the Doctor and take his hand, and their face is “seared into [his] hearts”. The universe and the soul. The exact fantasy that a lonely little girl who was afraid of her own shadow needed. “Never be cruel, never be cowardly, and if you are, always make amends.”

#doctor who #whouffaldi #clara oswald #12th Doctor #11th doctor #rose tyler #asks answered #star speaks

7 notes · View notes

sheliesshattered · 4 years

Text

I try not to talk about it or honestly even think about it much, but sometimes it just smacks me in the face how much The Husbands Of River Song ruined River and her entire arc with the Doctor for me. Coming on the heels of Hell Bent and all that came before it, it felt so incredibly emotionally incongruous to me. It just never sat right with me, and the more time has gone by, the worse it’s gotten.

I adored River during the Pond years, she was the first Doctor Who character I ever cosplayed, and I love that costume so much (her Day of the Moon dress) that I continue to wear it even all these years later. I loved her character, I loved the way the mystery of her identity was rolled out, and I loved her relationship with Amy and Rory. I loved her with Eleven, I loved their flirtatiousness and the way her confidence contrasted with his awkwardness, and I absolutely shipped them together at the time.

After Amy and Rory’s last episode, and given the mini-ep Last Night, I thought maybe we’d seen the end of River’s out-of-order interactions with the Doctor. And then Clara came along, and at first I wasn’t ready to move on from River and Amy and Rory, but Clara quickly won me over, and by the end of s7 I was definitely shipping Clara and Eleven, specifically because he had been in such a dark place after losing the Ponds (and, I thought, River) and Clara had helped to pull him out of that, and all without it being a re-tread of Martha falling for Ten while he was still heartsick over Rose.

When River’s dataghost showed up in The Name of the Doctor, I wasn’t quite sure how to take it at first. Clara says that the Doctor has mentioned “Professor Song” but never in a way that let Clara know she was a woman. Eleven describes River as being “like an ex”. But then there’s that amazing goodbye scene between Eleven and River in the crumbling console room, after Clara has jumped into his timestream, and that amazing kiss between them, probably the best of all the River/Doctor kisses of her entire run. As someone with one ship ending just as another was starting to become canon (particularly by the standards of the mini-ep She Said, He Said), I was completely happy with the way The Name of the Doctor handled both relationships. I could mourn the end of the River era and happily look forward to the future with Clara.

After that we got two pivotal specials with Clara and Eleven, that only further expanded on the idea of how important she is to him, and made their feelings for each other even more blatantly canon, right through to his very last moment before regenerating. And then all of s8 and s9 with Clara and Twelve and their escalating feelings for each other, culminating in the Raven trilogy, that showcased a love between them so strong and so all-consuming that it either had to be forcibly removed from the Doctor’s memory, or he was going to unravel the Web of Time to chase the chance of just a little more time with her. It’s an epic, amazing love story, and one I quite frankly still haven’t recovered from, years later.

And then not even three weeks later... River was back? What? As much as I enjoyed the running gag of her not knowing Twelve was the Doctor, the rest of that Christmas special just completely rubbed me the wrong way. I was still in mourning for Clara, I wasn’t ready to suddenly plunge into a completely different variation on River and the Doctor than we’d ever previously seen. And then there was what it did to River’s history with the Doctor.

It seemed to wipe out any idea that Eleven took River to Darillium, despite that being at least heavily implied in Last Night. It also threw the entire arc from Ten into Eleven completely out of whack. THORS makes it seem like Eleven must have procrastinated taking River to Darillium and giving her the sonic screwdriver -- that he knew his past self would use to save her dataghost -- for so long that he went off to Trenzalore with every expectation that he would die his final, non-regenerating death there, never having given River that sonic screwdriver. What??

The more I’ve thought about it over the years, the more I’ve come to dislike The Husbands of River Song, and in particular what it did to her relationship with Eleven. As much as I generally adore the Moffat era of Doctor Who, I wish he would have left well enough alone and not brought River back after Eleven was gone. It’s made it so I can’t even really enjoy their interactions during the Pond era (or even Ten’s two episodes with River), just completely poisoned everything that came before it. I used to ship it so hard, and now just... meh.

I’m not looking to debate this, or asking anyone to agree (or disagree) with me on it (and won’t engage with any replies trying to talk me out of my feelings on it, so don’t waste your time). But like I said, every now and then it just smacks me in the face how much that one episode ruined one of my favorite ships, and I felt the need to vent about it a little. 💔

#Doctor Who #meta #The Husbands of River Song #River Song #Eleventh Doctor #Twelfth Doctor #Tenth Doctor #Clara Oswald #River and the Doctor #Clara and the Doctor #Moffat era #probably healthy for me to remember that there were parts of his era that I hated too #especially given how much I hated the end of s12

73 notes · View notes

doctenwho · 4 years

Text

Should Be Me

Hello! Thank you for the prompt, and all the kind things you said! It means a lot that you like what I make :)

I wasn’t sure what to do with the someone who likes/ flirts with reader, so I just went with Jack Harkness. It adds a bit more because the Doctor isn’t really Jack’s biggest fan, and I thought it added more of a blow to the sitaution! Hopefully you don’t mind, and I got Jack’s character decently right.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4,505

Summary: Read the prompt above!

(Gif is not mine! Credit to creator!)

You’d met very few of the Doctor’s friends. Well, you weren’t even sure you could call them friends, the Doctor never really seemed too happy to see any of them. So... acquaintances maybe? People who knew of the Doctor, but had never really seen the man as much more than a savior, or a guardian of sorts. There was usually at least one where ever you went, the Doctor had really made a name for himself.

You’d asked before, of friends he had around the universe, or of people who stood out to him in his years of travels, and even people who he thought about from time to time. He of course mentioned his past companions—Rose, and Martha and Donna too, as well as a few others from before he’d regenerated, but you weren’t really sure that was the same as a friend.

Companions were really on a field of their own when it came to the Doctor.

He tended to avoid the question whenever you brought it up, or whenever you talked about some of your own friends back on earth. You knew he didn’t really like talking about himself—nothing too personal because he didn’t like getting attached, but that didn’t mean you weren’t curious.

Few people ever called out to the Doctor, and never in friendly tones. If the Doctor was being called out in a crowd, he was usually ushering you along and insisting that the two of you run from whoever was calling.

And on earth, whenever he was noticed (which did occasionally happened) it was never someone who really knew him, and instead fans, or people obsessed with the aspect of aliens, who’d heard stories of the Doctor.

So... you’d never really met anyone the Doctor had told you about. Not really past companions, or creature on other planets, or just anyone who knew the Doctor more than occasional conversation.

Well, until one evening in an alien bar not so different from any of the ones back on earth.

The day had been long, you and the Doctor escaping danger, but just barely. The Doctor had come out of the event chipper and energized, but you, well, you were a bit tired. It turned out threats on your like tended to wear you out.

The Doctor had perked you up with the promise of a nice bar within the galaxy that he was happy to take you to, since you were a bit down. You’d agreed only because you could do with a drink right now. The Doctor didn’t have any liquor in the TARDIS, and you wouldn’t even really trust anything you found in the kitchen, even if you did happen across something.

There was always that thought in the back of your head that you were in a space-time ship, even if looked very much like a house down the twists and turns of the TARDIS. You couldn’t just trust everything you found, as safe as the Doctor tended to be.

The Doctor promised it was a popular bar among the aliens and human space travelers alike, and that nothing truly harmful for you to ingest could be found (and at your raised eyebrow, the Doctor promised to taste everything before you, just in case).

It hadn’t taken long to arrive at said bar, the Doctor managed to land the TARDIS in a broom closet in the bar, and then the two of you were stepping out the TARDIS doors, and then the broom closet doors, and greeted by a lively bar.

True to the Doctor’s word, the bar wasn’t just filled with aliens, but many humans too. The bar tender was a creature you’d never seen before, but looked friendly enough as he took people’s orders and served drinks. The atmosphere was great, there was music that was noticeable, but not overwhelming, as well as some sort of sport playing on a weird looking television above the alcohol lining the shelves behind the bar.

There was friendly chatter, that faded off into multiple different languages that probably would’ve overwhelmed the TARDIS if she would’ve tried to translate everything for you. A lot of the patrons were speaking English, and the bar tender seemed to be switching to whichever language he was spoken to in.

Over all, it wasn’t much different than any of the bars you’d been to on earth. The same energy. The same scene. Alcohol. Patrons. The only noticeable difference was, of course, the aliens sitting on stools around the small but crowded bar.

“Fantastic, isn’t it?” the Doctor asked at your side, leaning into you so he wasn’t shouting over the music, or whatever game was on the space TV. “I told you there would be humans here too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed, leaning towards him so he could hear you as well, “you were right.”

“Of course I was,” the Doctor grinned, prideful and playful, “let’s get us a drink, shall we?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed. You followed close behind the Doctor, who was sparing greetings at some of the patrons who looked your way. Everyone seemed nice enough, which was all you could really ask for as a human in a space bar.

You were just happy you weren’t the only human for the first time in what felt like forever.

You could thankfully read some of the alcohols lining the shelves, a couple from your earth. There was a bunch of alcohols that you had no idea where they’d even come from, and a couple drinks on patron's hands had you confused.

You were curious about them, but not curious enough to try anything. You’d stick to drinks you knew this time. You just weren’t sure which drink you should go with. There were quite a few to choose from, and you really didn’t know what the bar actually had for making drinks.

“Order for me?” you asked the Doctor, sliding into one of the empty seats at the bar while the Doctor stood beside you for a second. The Doctor studied you for a second before bowing his head in an easy nod and looking back towards the bartender. He moved swiftly to an opening at the bar a few feet away, waiting to be noticed so he could order the drinks.

The Doctor knew a few drinks you liked. You had been traveling with him for a few years now, and you had dragged him to a human bar a couple times on your many trips to earth ever few months. Plus, this way, you didn’t accidently order something wrong. The bartender spoke English, as far as you knew, but that didn’t mean things couldn’t get lost in translation.

The Doctor was ordering drinks as soon as the man tending the bar came around to him, both leaned towards each other on either side of the counter to hear the other over the noise of the bar.

“Well, hello there,” a voice beside you called. You turned fast, looking away from the Doctor and coming face to face with a human looking gentleman. “You’re not from around here.”

It wasn’t a question, but you being a human was fairly obvious. And humans were greatly lacking in space travel, where most other planets were not. There were far fewer humans than any other creature in this specific bar, even if there were more than what you were expecting.

You wanted to say the same to him, but you just didn’t know. He honestly could be from around here, despite him looking so very human. He looked pretty human, just as human as you looked. But then again, the Doctor also looked pretty human, and he was a Time-Lord many, many years older than you.

You couldn’t help but notice just how familiar (in the human sense) the man was. The little quirks and traits of the man. He had a nice, flirty smile, and bright eyes that were watching you closely, but not in a creepy way.

Like ninety percent human, you were sure.

“I’m not,” you cleared your throat before agreeing easily, “and what about you? From around here?”

“I’m from everywhere, been here and there, you know,” the man gave you a dazzling grin before leaning a bit closer, “Jack,” he introduced, holding his hand out for you to shake—a familiar and very human gesture, “Jack Harkness.”

You hesitated for a moment before deciding to be bold and taking his hand into you own, “(Y/N).”

“(Y/N),” he repeated with that grin, “a beautiful name for a beautiful gal.”

You could barely stop your cheeks from heating up at the compliment. You could already tell this guy was a flirt, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t friendly. And... well, you kinda liked the attention from the man. It was nice, considering the Doctor was always so guarded whenever he was around you.

You knew the Doctor liked you, but sometimes it really didn’t feel like it. He was always guarded, and watching himself—holding himself back for whatever reason.

“You must be from earth,” Jack continued on, “someone as pretty as you would have to be from earth. Gems like you are always from earth.”

“I am,” you told him, before briefly wondering if that was like telling a random guy in an earth bar your street address. Would you be easy to find if he knew your planet? “Are you from earth too?”

“I am,” he flashed another grin, “I was an earth time traveler turned space traveler. Different points in time on earth was great and all, but I was shown a world far greater than ours, and I just fell in love with it, which,” he lulled his head in your direction as he took a sip of his drink, “I’m sure is not far off from you, am I right?”

It sounded a lot like you. The Doctor had really shown you a world greater than you own, and now you weren’t sure you could ever be content living on earth again—not when you knew there was so much out there. “You could say that,” you agreed.

He gave you another grin, “so, can I buy you a drink?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, someone was brushing up beside you, and a drink was set right beside your hand. You turned, smiling up at the Doctor, who was giving the stranger a hesitant, guarded look.

You looked back at Jack, just as his eyes trailed up from the cup still int the Doctor’s hand, up to the Doctor’s face. He stared for a second, before he broke into a grin brighter than anything, he’d given you since sitting down beside you, “Doctor! It’s been a while!”

“Captain,” the Doctor frowned.

And then you were confused. “You two know each other?”

“We do,” Jack turned his attention back to you, eyes warm, “he’s the one who introduced me to space travel. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the Doctor.”

You looked between the two of them for a second, from Jack’s gleeful look at finding the Doctor again, to the Doctor’s look of masked disdain, before it finally clicked, “Jack was one of you companions?” you turned swiftly, jaw dropping in surprise.

You’d never met a companion—and definitely not one the Doctor had never breathed a word of. This was a huge surprise, and you weren’t sure if it was a good one, or a bad one. You’d never really thought of the Doctor having any male companions, not when all he talked about was the female ones.

The Doctor furrowed his eyebrows in the way he did while he was trying to figure out how to explain something to you, before frowning at Jack, “for a while, yeah.”

“Well, a bit longer than a while--” Jack paused, now looking between you and the Doctor, “wait, if she’s here with you, that must mean (Y/N) is your companion, right? We were just getting to know each other, small universe.”

“Clearly,” the Doctor frowned distastefully. “What’re you doing here?”

“The same as everyone else,” Jack informed with a grin, taking another sip of his drink, “having a drink, and talking with the pretty patrons.” The man all but fluttered his eyelashes at you, and you had to glance away before your face flushed brightly at the compliment.

“Some lovely ladies here tonight,” he slid a bit closer, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad at it. The Doctor however, looked as if he was barely containing himself. And that in itself was a sight to see, since the man was usually so well put together.

The Doctor scowled at Jack, then dropped his attention to you, frowning at your flushed cheeks before returning his scowl back onto Jack. “No,” the Doctor’s expression hardened, “stop that.”

“Stop what?” Jack raised his hands in mock surrender, but his smile was teasing and he was clearly trying to rile the Doctor up in a way you couldn’t understand. “I’m not doing anything.”

The Doctor glowered at Jack, who simply lifted his drink to his lip and took a sip, “we were just talking, weren’t we? No harm there, Doc.”

“Just talking,” you agreed, looking back at the Doctor with a raised eyebrow. “Is there something going on between the two of you that I don’t know about?”

“No,” the Doctor said with a sigh as he finally withdrew his hand from your drink, “it’s not important. Nor the time, or the place to get into that. He’s just a companion who could no longer travel with me.”

Jack was frowning at the Doctor as he spoke, but he didn’t say anything to refute it. They were tense, the both of them. You desperately wanted to know what had happened for the Doctor to not want Jack as a companion anymore—just to know what not to do.

You lifted your drink up to sniff as a way out of the stiff atmosphere the men had created, frowning at it hesitantly, before holding it out to the Doctor. The man looked at you for a moment before he was taking the glass and taking the promised taste test sip. “It’s completely fine, I promise,” he told you with a fond smile that had wiped away the glare he’d had locked on Jack.

As soon as he glanced away from you though, the grim expression was back.

“So,” Jack cleared his throat, tension disappearing and flirty smile returning as he rested his chin in his hand, and looked towards you. “Where were we?”

“You were offering to buy me a drink,” you gave a laugh as you lifted the drink the Doctor had brought you to your lips. It was not something you’d ever had on earth, but it was delicious. “Someone beat you to it. Tough competition around here.”

“Right,” Jack laughed as well, “maybe I can buy the next one?”

“Maybe you could,” you couldn’t resist the tease in your voice. You didn’t bother looking back at the Doctor who was sitting himself on the seat on your other side. The other patron must’ve left.

The Doctor didn’t say anything, which was slightly worrying. But if he wasn’t going to give you a solid reason as to why you shouldn’t be talking to Jack, you were going to go off your own experience with him, which was pretty good.

Conversation with Jack was easy. He liked to talk, and he was very intriguing. Everything he told you, had you on the edge of your seat. He threw in compliments that had you blushing, and talking in a sultry tone that had the Doctor scoffing beside you.

Jack told you stories of his time at war, and his travel stories—which you shared a few of you own. He told you about his adventures with Rose and Martha, as well as his meeting with Donna. You were a bit jealous of that, since you’d never met any of them, but you supposed you’d met Jack now, who still counted as one of the Doctor’s companions.

Jack told you stories of his time with the Doctor, to which the Doctor jumped in and steered the stories away from himself and onto Jack. Some kind of rivalry between the two of them?

You talked with Jack for ages, the Doctor sitting near silently beside you, listening as well, but also completely dismissive of everything Jack was saying. It was weird to see the Doctor like this. He was usually so chipper and happy. And by the way he talked about his other companions, and the few run ins he’d had with them after their travels, you’d expected the man to be a bit happier about seeing Jack.

You did have a second drink, which Jack insisted you try one of his favorites and then bought for you. You thought about asking the Doctor to test it, like the first one, but Jack had ordered the same thing for himself, and had taken a sip of his first, so you decided it was probably okay.

That drink was good too, but you liked the one the Doctor ordered for you more.

It was nice to be talking to another human who’s seen the things you’d seen, as well as who’d travelled with the Doctor. And Jack seemed like a really nice guy, and had you not been completely enthralled by the Doctor, you might’ve even been interested in really getting to know him.

He was a bit too... friendly for you currently though, especially when you had no interest in any man besides the Doctor, not that he’d ever looked at you in that way.

“Well,” Jack smiled widely, “it’s been great meeting you, (Y/N). I’m sure it’ll be ages before I meet someone as lovely as you again.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from blushing again, watching as Jack drained what was left of his drink. You saw the Doctor roll his eyes out of the corner of your eye as he muttered a ‘stop it’ under his breath.

“I’ve gotta get going,” Jack finally said, “but I hope I’ll see you again sometime, (Y/N). It really was a pleasure.”

“Maybe,” you smiled with shrug. You weren’t really flirting back, just playing a bit, “if you’re lucky.”

“Well, I sure hope I am then,” Jack gave you a wink before giving a small laugh. He stood from his seat, and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair before he looked towards the Doctor, “it was nice seeing you as well, Doctor.”

“Yeah,” the Doctor sigh, finally looking at Jack with something that wasn’t a scowl. He didn’t look happy by any means, but it was a step up from scowling, “I’m sure we’ll meet again. You’re pretty hard to get rid of.”

“You know it,” Jack gave another bright smile, but this one was more knowing than the others. Some secret you probably couldn’t crack even if you tried, “you know better than anyone, Doc.”

The Doctor huffed what could almost be a laugh, as he gave Jack a small smile. With that, Jack threw a wave over his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd. You watched the way he’d gone for a second before looking back at the Doctor, who was frowning as he stared off into space.

“Doctor?” you questioned hesitantly. He looked towards you with a blank expression before he gave you a small smile as well. This one was a bit bigger than the one he shot Jack though. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he answered quickly, “let’s get back to the TARDIS. Places to be, things to see.”

He stood up, staying in place as you quickly finished off your glass and stood to follow him. Like coming in, you stayed close to the Doctor on the way out. He pulled the door to the broom closet open, letting you in before following suit and shutting the door behind himself.

The two of you stepped into the TARDIS, and as usual, the Doctor was quick to leave.

You sat silently on the chair, as the Doctor did circles around the control console, flying the TARDIS as he usually did. But something was different. Something was different with the Doctor. He was quiet. Quieter than you’d ever seen him, and the only thing that could’ve caused that was Jack.

“What’s the matter?” you asked quietly from where you were sitting. The Doctor gave a hum of acknowledgment, but didn’t bother looking at you.

“I’m fine,” he told you, but his voice gave him away. He didn’t sound fine.

“No,” you huffed, “really, what’s the matter?”

When he finally looked at you, his eyes were sad, and he was trying not to frown, “why do you think something’s wrong?”

“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” you asked, a bit hurt he wasn’t saying what was bothering him. You’d been with his for years now, and he still told you nothing. He still refused to let himself be sad or vulnerable around you. “Did Jack do something wrong?”

“No,” the Doctor sighed, running a hand through his hair, “not really. It’s... it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“I am worried about it though,” you told him honestly. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

The Doctor looked at you with a kicked puppy look before he dropped his attention to the floor. He didn’t say anything for a moment, like he was trying to figure out how to say something, “I... well, I didn’t like that.”

“Didn’t like what?” You raised a confused eyebrow, unsure of what the Doctor was talking about. You’d thought the even was nice.

“Jack and... and you. The, uh, flirting.”

“The flirting?” You blinked, “what was wrong with it?”

“I just didn’t like it,” the Doctor frowned, “Not with.... not Jack. He shouldn’t be flirting with you. Honestly, he’s far too friendly with everyone he meets, and I don’t think he’s good for.... for you.”

You scrunched your nose up as your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t answer any questions. It actually annoyed you a bit, that the Doctor would be mad you were flirting with someone else when he didn’t give you the time of day.

“I liked Jack,” you told the Doctor, crossing your arms across your chest. “He was nice, and I have no reason not to like Jack, Doctor. And I can flirt with whoever I want too, why would that upset you?”

“Of course,” the man agreed quickly, looking spooked and apologetic, “I didn’t mean anything by that, you’re free to do as you please, I just... never mind, it’s not important. Anywhere you’d like to go?”

“Stop doing that,” you told him annoyed. “You always do that, just tell me it's not important and change the subject. Why don’t you tell me anything?”

The Doctor frowned, dropping his attention from you once more. You narrowed your eyes at him, debating between continuing the conversation and leaving to your room for the night.

“I didn’t like him flirting with you because I don’t like anyone flirting with you,” the Doctor spoke into the room, “I don’t like anyone flirting with you, not while I’m around... Well, not at all, but certainly not while I’m around. It should be me, I should be the one making you laugh like that and flirting with you. And it irks me when people do so anyways, because you’re not mine. I have no say, it truly is your choice, (Y/N). You could leave me tomorrow—back to earth, or to join Jack or someone else, and there’s nothing I can do about it because you’re not mine.”

“Not yours?” you repeated before you froze, blinking at the Doctor, “you... you were jealous? Of Jack?”

The Doctor made a face of embarrassment before giving an approving dip of his head. “I’m sorry. I have no right to be jealous, I know. But I can’t help it, you’re my companion, and I’ve never... felt like this with any of my other companions.”

“You like me?” You asked softly, because you thought he didn’t. He’d never said anything.

“More than anything,” he breathed with a frown, “I tried not to get attached, like I always do with companions,” he told you, “I really did. But you’re just... you’re you, and it was a lost cause. I was destined to fail at keeping you at arm's length from the moment you first smiled at me.”

You’d never imagined the Doctor could say anything like that. That the Doctor would ever be jealous of a man flirting with you, because he never showed any interest in you.

“I can’t stand seeing you with someone else,” the Doctor told you, “it breaks my heart, because I want so badly for it to be me you like--”

“It is you I like.”

The Doctor stopped, blinking repeatedly at you. He looked like his brain had just short-circuited. Like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said.

“What?”

“I like you too,” you replied in a soft, fond voice, “I have from the start. I just... didn’t think you liked me in return. And I didn’t want to ruin this, Doctor. I couldn’t ruin our friendship if you didn’t feel the same way.”

“Really?” the man looked completely overjoyed by the news. “I... never noticed. You-- you’re serious?”

“Completely,” you gave a laugh, “I thought you just didn’t want to mention it. I didn’t know you really didn’t know.”

“I didn’t,” he assured with a surprised expression, “I didn’t think you’d ever like me like I like you, so I... never said anything. I suppose I just couldn’t handle seeing Jack flirt with you.”

“You really don’t like the guy, do you?”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” the Doctor huffed, “it’s just that—you know what? We can get into that later. Right now, though... I’d really like to kiss you, if that’s alright with you?”

“Fine with me,” you grinned, watching as the Doctor returned the smile and made his way towards you. He’d stabilized the TARDIS right after you’d gotten angry at him, so he didn’t have to worry about it.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this for,” he muttered as he leaned towards you. His eyes were locked with yours, warm and adoring.

The Doctor settled one of his knees beside you, his other supported him on the floor, pressing against your knees as he leaned into your space. His arm curled around your waist as he brushed his nose against yours.

You tilted your head for a better angle, as your arm wrapped around the back of his neck. You smiled as you pulled him just a bit closer by your hold on him, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Well,” you teased, “get on with it then, Doctor.”

<><><><>

Don’t mind me trying to write Jack because I couldn’t come up with a whole character with a personality (which I’m truly terrible at) for this prompt. Hopefully no one minds, and I didn’t butcher his personality to badly. What I know about him is just from seasons 2-4 of Doctor Who, and a bit of research, so sorry if anything’s wrong!

Anywho, as always, feel free to prompt again if this wasn’t what you were looking for! Thanks once more for sending a prompt, and I hope I did it justice!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #doctor who #doctor who 2005 #reader insert #jack harkness #writing prompt #TARDIS

242 notes · View notes

leapyearkisses · 3 years

Text

O Captain, My Captain 2/2 - (m/m) Salem/Faughn

Part two of the soldier setting.

Lil’ bit of mess. Hair brushing. Yearning. Etc.

---

The bar was dim and full of smoke from the spitting of the fire in the grate. Despite the proprietor’s efforts to shield against the storm, it was raining down the chimney, and the logs were hissing like hecklers at a bad variety show. The haze collected in the ceiling joists with the smoke from the soldiers’ cigarettes. It was crowded and loud inside and stank of wet wool and spilled ale. Could definitely have smelled of worse, though; Salem wasn’t complaining. He tapped his lips against his empty mug, gaze lingering in the shadowed corner of the room.

“Another round for you, sir?”

He looked up, saw Maisie Harpe looking down her nose at him, serving tray under her arm. Her expression was condescending. Salem remembered it fondly.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’” he said, but pushed his mug toward her. “I’m still the same as I was.”

Maisie sniffed dismissively, picking it up. “Gone off and joined the war. Too good for a potter’s life. You think you’re going to come out the other end of it?” Her blonde curls shimmered around her round face with a flash of lightning. “Pa says it’s like watching sausages get made.”

“Hold your tongue, girl!” John Hadditch, the blacksmith of Yens Hollow, came up behind her and shooed her off. “Bad luck talking of that over beer. Go and bring us something better than this swill your Pa’s set aside for soldiers.” He sat down across from Salem and lifted his wooden leg around the bench with a grunt. “She still wants you to be pullin’ her pigtails, Sammy.” He chuckled.

Salem cleared his throat, hiding a smile. “She’s got better prospects than me.”

“Aye, maybe an officer? I heard they’re keeping the brass nice and polished at Maven Broadmoor’s place.” John leaned in. “You got a roof over your head, Sam, or are you out with the poor suckers in the mud?”

“Well, I’m not really brass. Maybe copper,” Salem said, accepting a new tankard from Maisie. “Mrs. Broadmoor is letting me sleep in the horse loft with the other lieutenants. Better than the back pasture.” He tapped his fingers on the table. When Maisie had walked away to another group, he leaned in. “I need to know if it’s safe to talk.”

“Not in here,” said John, taking a long draught of beer. “Come to my shop on the morrow, or I’ll come down to the farm if the bloody sky hasn’t fallen.” Thunder shook the double-paned windows. “My leg’s not as it used to be, though, and riding is a trial.”

“We can come to you.” Salem had been given a small company of men solely for this purpose of meeting with the trustworthy locals… or at least those they hoped were trustworthy. “On the morrow, if, as you say, we’re all still here.”

—

It was still raining when he finished the night, snapping the neck of his raincoat closed at the door, as if that would help. Maisie Harpe moved in the fallen darkness of the banked fire, turning out the oil lamps on the walls and drawing blankets over the men who had passed out at their benches from either drunkenness or exhaustion. Salem kept his tongue to himself, just tipped his hat to her on his way out.

His horse was none too keen to be drawn out of the stable, digging her heels in while he tacked her up. “I know,” he murmured, securing the saddle girth. “But you’ll be home soon enough.”

The streets were the same as he remembered them, and he rode confidently toward the edge of town even in the storm. He’d gone to school here as a boy, every morning hitching a ride on a wagon into town from the neighboring village. His father had been a cooper, building barrels for beer, whiskey, fish, pickles… whatever the fur traders needed, and then when that started drying up, whatever anyone else needed. His mother had been a potter. Technically, he still owned the house and the workshops, but he’d given the plot to a cousin to manage. He wondered absently, focused on the echoing of his horse’s hooves on the cobbles, whether he should go by the place while he was stationed here. Surely no one would begrudge him the chance to see family. …Although they weren’t close.

His mare moved faster on the dirt roads despite the muddy furrows, picking up her pace going out to the farmlands. Salem hunched against the rain. Water was running down his neck and his face, and an ill-timed breath sent a drip up his nose, too. He ducked to the side with a loud sneeze. “Hruuscht!” His horse laid her ears back.

“Sorry, girl.” He wiped his face on his wet sleeve and sighed. It was very late, but he thought, maybe, he should try to meet with the Captain before he went to sleep. To update him on the idea of meeting with Hadditch tomorrow, to tell him what Salem had overheard while drinking, …to inspect the state of him. Salem sighed.

—

There was a lamp still burning at the Broadmoor farm. Salem put his horse away and then slogged up to the main house, shivering on the back stoop. Martha, the maid, let him in to the kitchen and took his jacket, scolding him for coming back so late. She probably thought him a souse. He let her chide him as she brought him a towel and a heel of bread. He ate it after she’d returned to her bed, then left his boots on the hearth, hoping that the fire would dry them somewhat, before going upstairs. He trod carefully. Major General Wallace was staying here as well, and he was said to be a rough character when untimely roused.

Light flickered beneath the door of the yellow bedroom. Salem tapped lightly against the paneling and waited for an acknowledgement.

“Yes?” The Captain’s voice was hoarse. “I don’t need another of your bitter infusions, Doctor.” He coughed. “I’ve had more than enough of them.”

“It’s Lieutenant Desidero, sir.”

“Come in.”

Salem stepped into the room. The Captain had a candle burning and was writing at the desk, quill scratching over the parchment at a steady pace that was uninterrupted by Salem’s visit. Captain Faughn was wearing his hair down for once. It spilled down his back like blood, the same shade, tangled and damp with rain or sweat. Hardly regulation, Salem could hear in his mind, the voice of his long-ago trainer barking away in memory. His gaze followed the length of it to the Captain’s trim waist. He was in his shirtsleeves.

“I have a report,” he forced himself to say. “A short one. I went to the village tavern tonight.”

“Tell me about it,” said Faughn, without looking up.

So Salem did, describing the state of the place, the bearing of the owner, Maisie Harpe, the blacksmith. He talked about the bar’s stable, which had a new roof, and the men who had worked on it and dined there that night. The church had burned two years ago and been rebuilt a little bigger, with a new back room, by the same men. Men from trapper families with nothing to trap anymore, back in town since a few months ago.

Faughn listened to the report without commenting, though he did lay his quill down sometime in the middle. By the candlelight, his eyes were heavy-lidded and thoughtful. His cheeks were flushed high with fever.

“Nice job,” he said when Salem had finished, rubbing his hands together. “I knew I was right to trust this to you. If all goes well here, I will be sure to give you a commendation.” He sniffed hard and Salem heard a liquid shift of congestion in his sinuses. “Is there anything else?”

Salem swallowed. “Your hair, sir?”

“My hair?” Faughn frowned.

“I’d like to brush it for you.”

—

The Captain’s comb was made of whale ivory. Salem sat on the bed behind him and drew the fine teeth carefully down through the Captain’s hair, trying to untangle it without pain. The Captain’s hair was soft despite the rigors of the war. Salem supposed he must keep it oiled under his hat, or some other way protected from the elements. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asked.

Faughn had made a small noise, but now he lifted a hand to dismiss concerns. “No. No, you’re fine.” His fingers were slender and strong, but he curled them now under his nose. “I’m going to hh-”

Salem slipped the comb free as the Captain bent forward, crushing his nose to his knuckles.

“Nkktsch! Ngktschx!” His breath caught again. “Hah- hahktschiu!” Moisture shone against the smooth curve of Faughn’s nostrils in the candlelight. He sniffed thickly and reached to the bedside table for a handkerchief.

“Bless you,” murmured Salem, gaze lingering. He looked away when the Captain raised an eyebrow. “How are you feeling?”

Faughn cleared his throat, low and irritated. “I do wish people would stop asking me that.” He dabbed at his nose but seemed hesitant to blow. The corners of his dark eyes creased in uncertainty.

Salem traced his fingers over the comb, thumb pressed along the smooth edge from end to end. The bedroom was warm from the farmhouse’s central fireplace. Heat blossomed also in his belly. He looked at his nail, snagged earlier on his horse’s reins, instead of at the Captain. He could hear from the Captain’s breathing that he would sneeze again. “My apologies.”

“Ngktschiu!” Wet again, but this time enveloped by the folds of the handkerchief. Salem could imagine how it might feel instead against his skin. His arousal swelled. Faughn groaned softly, a private sound. Salem rose to his feet.

“I will report to you again tomorrow night,” he said, placing the comb on the clothes chest by the foot of the bed. He could feel himself blushing. Part of him wanted the Captain to turn and see it, too, but most of him knew to keep it close and hidden. “Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Desidero.”

Salem closed the door behind him and then stood for a long moment in the empty hallway, listening to the rain.

#lyk writes #snz #first lieutenant salem desidero #captain gwalchmai faughn #salemai #*stares adoringly at faughn*#I haven't reread this in ages #it's tender isn't it #hmmmmmm should i write a third part

9 notes · View notes

gayspock · 3 years

Note

✨ 🎥 💕 💔 🏳‍🌈

I’LL BE BIG BRAINED AND ANSWER THEM FOR BOTH DW AND STAR TREK. THANK U FOR THE ASKS OMG THIS IS LONG AND MY TRAIN OF THOUGHT STOPS RANDOMLY SO IDK HOW COHERENT IT IS BUT ITSOKIE DOKIE

doctor who

✨ what draws you towards your hyperfixation? what is interesting about it? this one’s so hard because its like. it was just my special interest as a chid and literally im shackled to it now. i watched rtd era repeatedly when i was younger, to the point where like... i could definitely quote stuff to the specific episode, and knew scenes by heart- and whilst i dont have that power any more, it’s still something that’s been like... LIKE THE DEVIL TOOK A POKER TO MY BRAIN, AND THE POKER SOMEHOW SUMMARISED SEASONS 1-4 OF DOCTOR WHO. and no matter what, even when i drift away from the show, i just end up back there and idk what the fuck it is!!!

🎥 do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation? GOD, GOD GOD OMG... hm... there’s so many. so so many. th - from more recent years: i sincerely do love the scene from heaven’s sent, when the doctor’s punching through the diamond. minecraft ass. i know thats PROBABLY A VERY BASIC ANSWER, BUT LISTEN. that episode is bloody beautiful, even if what succeeds it is.... Like That - from rtd era... there’s genuinely so much i dont even know where to start. I GENUINELY DO NOT. fuck, man!! its hard to pick something out, because, like... man i just really love rtd era. its just so warm and lovely. like, h, moffa dt (i apologise for REPEATEDLY DRAGGING HIM THROUGH THE MUD, BUT) really... had a habit of just constantly trying to make everything big and dramatic and absolutely: there’s so many BIG SCENES in moffat that you can point out and be like hell yeah that rocks, but like... with rtd era what i love abt it is just kind of how it’s so intrinsically human???? like. the characters feel like real people, and not like walking dummies who spit out oneliners. and ITS SO HARD TO PICK OUT A SCENE THATS A FAVE, BC IT ALL KIND OF... FOR ME , AT LEAST, IT FLOWS INTO EACH OTHER. like i could pick a scene per episode easy. i think maybe- maybe- just.. JOURNEY’S END WHEN THEY’RE ALL PILOTING THE TARDIS, solely because like as indulgent as that shit was, it was like well fuckin earned at that point to have all the characters come together like that. like fuck yeah!

💕 tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them! martha, donna and bill are my favourite companions but... I’LL GIVE MARTHA HER SPOTLIGHT. SINCE PEOPLE FAIL TO DO SO. like, i think ive just really come to love her more over the years. watching s3 a decade later just fuckin hurts, man. i wish both the writer room and the doctor gave her the credit she deserves. i cannot TELL you how angry i am with that man over the way he treated her.. GOD. she’s one of the smartest, most intelligent and kind of the companions- for gods sake? she HERSELF is a doctor. the stuff she DOES for over the course of that season, all to such little thanks: the entire events of the family of blood story, her being lost in a whole other century, forced to work alone in an environment that deeply resented her for who she was, having to babysit john smith; then they followed it up, with that finale which, BOTCHED AS IT WAS, the fact she yet again struck out on her own and walked the landscape of like... a post-apocalyptic earth to fuckin save everyone whilst her family were being toRTURED-- LIKE HELLO? MARTHA JONES IS JUST BUILT DIFFERENT. TOUGH AS FUCKNG ROCKS. i do kind of hope she cameos again some day, since (whilst i never got the chance to read it) i know she was in the comics, briefly, and 13 saw her and was reflecting on how sorry she was for giving martha the short end of the stick as 10 and LIKE. I REALLY DONT WANT MARTHA BROUGHT BACK AS A COMPANION PROPER, BUT JUST HAVING HER BACK FOR AN EPISODE AFTER ALL THIS TIME WOULD BE SO NICE TO HAVE THEM RECONCILE IN THE SHOW. especially since fucking moffat disconnected the entirety of rtd’s era when he took over - ive missed them so, so much!!!

💔 tell us about one of your LEAST favorite characters and why you dislike them. regret to say it. its amy pond. i think its just... a combination of many things, man. its just a combination of things, and a series of unfortunate events. hate the way moffat writes women. i really fucking hate it. its so... hrk. and i think a thing also happens with amy, wherein... there’s no moment where im fine with her? do you know what i mean? VERY early on, the way she treats rory... im so sorry, but that shit makes me feel so violently uncomfortable. like she just straight up cheats on him? tries to fuck her imaginary best friend from childhood? on the day before her wedding? and its like- im sorry but i dont remember does amy ever even... say sorry??? and then in s6, she’s just tied into that... that whole mess of a god damn plot that i try to suppress. and thats not on her but i dont ever enjoy her presence during that period. and THEN early s7 its, like... i have a lot of issues with early s7 but it was, like, the height of doctor flandarisation and the ponds really should have just been phased out more slowly rather than forcing out the tragic ending because it just meant nothing to me. AND IM PROBABLY BEING TOO HARSH BUT I JUST THINK ITS ALSO JUST GENERALLY A CASE OF... man, i hate matt smith era who!LOVE HIM conceptually as the doctor, but a lot of it just kinda feels ugh to me. i do think s5 is actually a very solid season but its just... so tainted im like grrr.

🏳‍🌈 do you have any headcanons (lgbt, race, neuro, etc) that are important to you? in my heart of hearts, donna noble is a lesbian and thats just how it is. how it should have been. also bill’s autistic. i said so. and i insist that its so.

star trek

✨ what draws you towards your hyperfixation? what is interesting about it? doctor who primed me for, like, having an affinity for campy scifi. star trek, tho.. fuck, its like? a tossup between the characters (all of them are so endearing after a while) and just... some of the episodes are so fucking beautiful and thoughtful man. like oh boy we have some clunkers in there, for sure, but there’s some where they have a concept and how they know how to handle it they really just do it right. i think its kind of in part because it was done in the 60s, and they had their limitations and they take it at such a different pace than they would now. i think a lot of that actually is what makes the show for me? I MADE A POST ABT IT ALREADY, BUT ITS ALSO A CASE OF JUST... the way its shot. the lighting, the sets, everything is so nice. it’s simple and its clean and it looks GOOD and whilst some sfx are dated looking (GOD BLESS THE ALIEN COSTUMES) i think... literally any scenes on the bridge are timeless just because they didnt go ott. I KNOW IM GETTING AWAY FROM THE QUESTION, BUT YEAH LIKE- i havent seen the latest star trek (unsure if i’ll watch it soon, or watch everything else first) but whilst it looks beautiful i dont.. actually like the look of it? i don’t really vibe with it when it’s so overproduced like that. there’s this... unreality and this fakeness. (the same could be said about chibnall era doctor who actually. like god bless that shit is PRETTY but its like... they throw the most dramatic ass lighting and lens flare onto characters having a conversation in a god damn room and im like why? why do you need to do that?? theyre talking abt the weather)

🎥 do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation? GOD I HAVE A LOT BUT. LIKE. THE ONE THAT COMES TO MIND IS IN THE NAKED TIME, AND I DONT KNOW WHY THIS SCENE RESONATES SO MUCH, BUT ITS WHEN SPOCK IS HAVING A MELT DOWN AND JIM IS CONFRONTING HIM AND SPOCK IS LIKE “JIM, WHEN I FEEL FRIENDSHIP FOR YOU, I AM ASHAMED-” LIKE GOD!! GOD WHAT THE FUCK! IT HITS DIFFERENT!

💕 tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them! jim and i still dotn know why. diagnose me. there’s something in my head that makes me go cuckoo over some fucking dude sometimes. i cant even articulate it. also spock and bones and well everoyne. i think the problem with star trek is im obsessed with the LOT of these freaks.

💔 tell us about one of your LEAST favorite characters and why you dislike them. I DONT DISLIKE ANYONE UNLESS WE WANT TO CONSIDER, LIKE, ONE OFFs but like eh!!!!! EH you know.

🏳‍🌈 do you have any headcanons (lgbt, race, neuro, etc) that are important to you? IM HONESTLY NOT SO SURE YET. i mean. ok spock’s gay and jim’s bi. other than THAT i usually sit with them a little longer and try to have a feel. i’m open to any headcanons franklY WHEN IT COMES TO STUFF LIKE THAT.

#teslaesque

1 note · View note

kendrixtermina · 4 years

Note

About dw- same. I actually weaned off the show when Clara was there- I didn't like that they were changing companions from regular people to vague important mysteries. I saw episodes every here and there but havent seen any of the newest doctor yet- seeing the reaction to it though I'm glad I haven't! If you find some really good dw books, can you please share? I'd love to interact with the dw i knew and love again

Nah sorry, we don’t agree here.

I LOVE Clara. I LOVED her plot, I loved her character she’s my ALL TIME FAVORITE.

She wast “reduced to a mystery” she was an interconnected whole of motifs and little connected details of which that plotline was only one part.

I get that RTD was good at doing everyman characters - that was his strength, so it was a draw for a lot of people; And I get that ppl who prefer that sort of story aren’t necessarily going to like the high-concept type of stories Moffat did, just because of personal taste. I for my part thought RTDs characters were a) shilled a lot and b) too linear, that’s why they were mostly 1 season affairs, there was a point A and A point B, one specific lesson and that’s it, not so much this wider field of associations and elements to play with. That said this is a personal taste difference; I still loved Rose, Martha & Donna and they’re iconic.

I also liked that Amy, Clara & co had more edges. RTD’s had like cute relatable good girl flaws. Rose was a bit insecure, which is relatable; Martha had trouble asserting her own needs which makes her look giving, Donna was a tad abrasive and maybe had a narrow focus as the start but she got over the latter and the former is a strength when it makes her be assertive when needed.

And that’s fine. Those are legit personality types, they’re interesting and good as basically good people - some people are mostly good, and they’re supposed to be heroes. I’m not for this cult of “flaws” as the ultimate mark of a good/realistic character.

It’s a legit, good story. But it’s not the *only* legit type of story. I’m very much against this modern tendency in fandom that you can only empathize with someone if you can somehow convince yourself they’re an underdog.

At the same time Moffat’s characters get the sort of flaws that have a bit more bite, lead to costly mistakes, actions that could lead them to treat others unfairly or make others legit dislike them - Stuff like Amy’s difficulty with commitment, Clara’s perfectionism, high standards and calculating streak, and River who’s somewhat crass and impulsive in the eps where she’s younger and even once she matures past that sort of keeps back her real feelings a bit....

The one most similar to the sort of characters RTD made would probably be Rory in that he’s a basically good person who just needed to be more confident. I don’t think Bill would fit either category, but she has a lot of presence with all her quirky questions & reactions & habits, and there was this mentor dynamic and the interesting premise with the tutoring etc and the particular way she stumbles into mysterious events...

I think Moffat approached it not as making “a pov character” but an interesting character, an interesting sub-story on its own that it would be interesting to have interact with the main plot.

The classics had both what you might describe as “regular people” and more high concept stories like ppl from space or with wacky backgrounds. It was never the rule that they must always be like this one specific type of character...

Also, what IS “ordinary”? What IS flawed? What is relatable or interesting to one person might be boring to another.

The problem with Chibnall is that he couldn’t be farther from the other two inthat he’s not much about characters at all and even when he actively tries to give them traits or lines or whatever they’re bland and indistinctive and really not memorable.

He has no idea that specificity, the sense of a personal story and inner consistency, as well as edges, are what make stories and characters appealing so he has no qualms doing a big retcon that really shaves a whole of that off from the main character making them at best and at the most optimistic, a completely different sort of character and at worst totally undermined.

This is my opinion on the matter, at least; As I said, personal taste plays into it somewhat.

2 notes · View notes

swiftythewriter · 4 years

Text

so, i’m supposed to be studying and def not be on social media rn but i am legit tearing up about Martha Jones and what she means to me as a character that i’m just going to try and to write this out so i can hopefully focus

to get one thing straight, Martha Jones is not my favorite character. i started watching DW when I was about twelve and tbh, for years after that i never really connected with her. it’s not too surprising since in terms of background, personality, and life experience (because, come on, i’m a lily white, only child shut in from the deep south) we had next to nothing in common.

but.

out of all the characters that have been on the show, Martha Jones is solidly the one I want to live up to the most.

maybe the reasons why are obvious, but they didn’t really crystallize to me till just now. the main one, for me, is that through out her arc her happiness did not depend on another person. even within her arc where she faced the consequences of her unrequited feelings, she still had this noticeable trait before she even said it out loud.

to go and break it down further, i believe there are several aspects to her personality that are important contributors in this: dedication, responsibility, and strong sense of self worth

dedication: this one seems pretty obvious, since when we are first introduced to Martha we are shown her position as a med student in her last year of residency. everyone with passing knowledge of what it takes to be a doctor knows this isn’t for the faint of heart. knowing just that we can already infer that she’s studious, hard working, and intelligent.

but it goes beyond that, as is continually shown throughout her arc. she becomes know as the “Woman Who Walked the Earth”, a title she got by literally walking around the earth for a year in an apocalyptic hellscape and never once wavering in completing in her mission. she didn’t just join but rose through the ranks of UNIT to the point where she was trusted with the Osterhagen key-quite literally the most important responsibility given to any single person at that point in human history.

and if we are talking about less dramatic examples, kindly take a look where Martha spent months undercover in an incredibly racist time period with absolutely no support despite there being actually no reason beyond Ten needing his little moral moment and yet not only managed to keep her spirits, but also is directly responsible for the Doctor’s plan not being any more of a clusterfuck than it already was. same story with “Blink”, where they both got trapped in the sixties and Martha once more had to stand up and handle things behind the scenes.

next, responsibility: this ties in really well with dedication and it can go double for all the things i listed above. the reason i think this is, is that as a result of her dedication and moral code, Martha tends to take on the problems set before her to the best of her abilities because she sees it as the right thing to do.

but what i really want to look at is Martha’s sense of emotional responsibility, as in not the actions she takes but why she takes them. i feel like this is best seen in how she acts towards her family and is what really sets her apart from the other companions in the series.

because you know what she does? she stays. her family needs her.

and here’s the ringer because name one character, one, since her that makes an active effort to maintain their relationships with their families when the Doctor comes to play. i can’t. really, i can’t

Donna? doesn’t count. she might love her family but when push comes to shove she was willing to die with the Doctor-or more accurately for who she became with the Doctor, than to live her life with them.

Rose? don’t make me laugh. she loves her mother to death, but not enough to choose her first.

Jack? no family to speak of at that point, but look how fast he leaves his friends at the very hint of the Doctor coming back into his life. yes, he has his immortality based reasons but there’s nothing about their scenes that doesn’t scream emotional.

Amy and Rory? i can count on one hand how many times the topic of relatives has come up for Amy and it still leaves me a finger left over for Rory. despite magically getting her parents back in her life she seems awfully unconcerned with their general existence.

i’m also not entirely sure Rory has parents-or even connections, beyond his dad. he might have just sprung up in a field somewhere, and we’d never know. hey, maybe Amy wished him into existence a bit earlier than we all thought.

Clara? i’m almost certain she has parents. almost. like, she had an entire holiday dinner?? i’m pretty sure she mentioned her dad at some point?? but beyond the meet cute of how her parents got together, zilch. nada. she might as well have been an orphan.

Bill? okay she was actually an orphan but i don’t think she actually mentioned or contacted her foster mother after she moved out. not sure this counts tho. the Doctor was dading too hard to say she had no parents.

i admit the newest companions kind of break the mold but I still say it counts since the only familial connection Ryan and Graham try to maintain to between each other and while Yaz might be close to her family her life with the Doctor seems to be taking priority over both her career and how much she spends time connecting with her family.

honestly the only one that even comes close to subverting the pattern is Mickey and the only reason he doesn’t properly is because he didn’t have any living family before going to Pete’s world.

but even in the beginning Martha spends time actively maintaining her relationships with her family members. again, in her first episode we see her playing mediator for her family, and going on we see her doing her best to support her sister, be a good daughter to her mother, and keep her family connected through sheer will power at times. sure, the other companions have shown the appropriate concern when there’s threat to their loved ones lives, but Martha again subverts the mold when it becomes clear that she’s not willing to let them go.

so, back to responsibility.

you tie this with her morals and you get the result of a doctor that gives her last breaths to keep another person alive.

you tie this with her dedication and you get the kind of person who will walk to the ends of the earth if she deems the cause good enough.

and finally, if you tie this with her emotional connections, you have the kind of person that takes the hard, messy work of tying together a somewhat dysfunctional family with her bare hands.

so now we’ve reached a strong sense of self worth: this i think is present in all of her decisions in the show. like, her entire story arc as a companion was ended on the note that she discovered her self worth and that she shouldn’t made to be feeling like she’s second fiddle. but, again, i feel like this is shown clearly throughout her story line even if she didn’t consciously recognize it.

the most obvious example i see on this kind of contrasts with the above one, and it is that Martha leaves. She chooses to go with the Doctor and see what’s out there. It’s not a decision her mother and perhaps the rest of her family would or does approve of and she still makes it.

she also, having taken the not so metaphorical leap of faith, chooses to pursue the Doctor romantically. that is something that i did not appreciate as a kid but respect the hell out of now. the sheer self confidence that it takes to not only approach your crush but pick yourself up after they don’t notice time and time again is absolutely incredible. we stan an absolute legend.

but back to my point, it would’ve been incredibly easy for Martha’s character to have been introduced as the stereotype of one of those people who go into medschool due to parental pressure. it could’ve even been supported by her background with her family and future character arc of discovering her worth. but all those assertions evaporate the second she comes on screen.

Why? Self worth.

The concept that Martha could be pressured into her path in life is laughable. She perused medicine because she wanted to. It’s her passion. She didn’t have to say it out loud to be clear in her actions.

Her family’s wants and opinions might have some weight because she respects them, but ultimately she doesn’t need their approval to make herself happy. Her teachers, peers and assumed friends at her school also had the same affect.

Martha Jones went with the Doctor because she wanted to, and she stayed because she wanted to as well. Her choices are made to be the most fulfilling to herself. Yes, they are motivated by her responsibilities and dedication to see them through, but that is it-motivated. She does not need to live up to to the things people need from her to have fulfillment.

See the choices she made after she left the Doctor if you want any indication. She enlisted in UNIT because she realized she could do more for the world than just be a doctor, and she decided she wanted to. She got into and out of an engagement because she was in touch with what made her happy and what didn’t. The choices she made during her time with UNIT were ones that she made not because the Doctor would approve-since she knew he wouldn’t, but were ones she reasoned were the best options forward.

And finally, when Martha decided after the near end she didn’t want to be with UNIT anymore, she left and went to find something that she wanted to do more.

i once read an excellent post that made the point that unlike other companions, Martha Jones never needed the Doctor, and it was absolutely right. In the end of the day, Martha Jones never needed anything but her own to hands to go and make the world a better place.

And you know what? At that, she is good.

#help this was supposed to be a small text post and now it's an essay i spent 4 hours on #I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE STUDYING #now it's midnight #i have 4 tests in less than a week #whyyy do i keep doing this #...maybe i should get checked for adhd after all #and i have all the things i need to do that i haven't #sigh #side note this thing came into existence because i named my car the Martha Jones because i love her #also completely off topic but Mickey is frankly the best person in the verse and honestly he deserved So Much Better #seriously he's such a kind and smart and loyal person why was he made to feel like he wasn't important #in my next essay i will be discussing how much of an Utter Dick ten was omfg #nothing like rewatching something with the perspective of adulthood #like #literally everything he did was to get a reaction out of people and then he critisied them for having very logical responses #and honestly his relationship with Rose was not all that healthy #he encouraged a lot of really unhealthy behavior that she picked up on and yikes #like how he went from Nine trying to keep her out of harms way to the two of they giggling over nearly being gutted by a werewolf #which is really common! in this series! but the way he handled it kind of encouraged her to be reckless with her life #also her behavior with Mickey and her mother-which don't get me wronf she's 100% responsible for #but at the same time in toxic relationships people tend to pick up on negative behaviors to fit in #and her reactions in that respect really increased in s2 #wait fuck am i writing another essay #dw #doctor who #martha jones #character analysis #meta #essay #dw season 2

1 note · View note