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13docwriting · 6 months

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So I'll start with the fact that I am, indeed, a fan of Chibnall's era. I am an even bigger fan of the 13th Doctor. I'll also start with the fact that I quite literally grew up with RTD's writing and loved Ten with all my heart. But now I am an adult and some of RTD's writing has left me a bit scared. Here's my "live streaming" review on The Star Beast. SPOILERS BELOW!

I'm going in order of how I processed things, so it's gonna be chaotic. My first essay is this: You know why this post is so long? It's because we're not livestreaming things anymore. I'm not immediately with other fans in real time, typing out our little posts. I'm quite literally doing this at my leisure. I'll miss watching DW live. Now then, in order! 1. The music? Ten out of ten. I have always loved Gold's compositions and he did not let us down. And this opinion is only being generated from the new(er) theme song. Which leads me to...

2. Look at the B U D G E T. Even the opening credits has a budget that you can just FEEL. Those stars/galaxies? Very nice... And then I have to chuckle over the low level lighting / 2000s era effects of David Tennant's full profile voiceover of Donna and his story.

3. Him taking the boxes, seeing Donna's face, and slowly putting the boxes back is an RTD special and I LOVE that kind of comedy. It just makes me chuckle. And then him having a full blown panic over hearing Donna shout "Rose!" which... 4. Having these little call back moments feels rather bitter since we're calling this a reboot of the show. UNLESS the reboot is when Nucti starts up? But the fact that I'm confused just shows how bitter I should be. Again, my Chibnall love is showing. I don't believe in yet another reboot for DW, but that's a marketing thing over anything else... I hope. 5. I'm glad the 2000s Rose/Doctor shipping era lives strong through the name Rose. I know those fans are going to be happy and they deserve it. 6. NOW... Donna having a family. Okay. I'll have a separate post but... Does anyone else think that Donna having a husband just doesn't fit for her? Especially with her memories erased? Idk, I just never envisioned Donna getting married after the whole Lance thing. BUT I'm glad she's happy and the husband seems so nice. 7. Donna giving up that lottery money? Also strange considering she lost her memories. The first time we meet Donna we get this feeling that she's a bit shallow, which makes sense because she has to develop as a character. That was her character development so here KEEPING the money would have made more sense here. Which...

8. Rose. That's all. She's great!

9. Hey, can't help but notice, but when did the 14th Doctor have time to make a new screwdriver, huh? What gives? AND - AND there's not a single hint of 13's sonic on there. HMM. What the heck!

10. FORGOT SOMETHING. Whatever the line was "that says mistress" "Oh, catch up, will you?" I don't know how to take in this scene quite yet, but it's making me pause. It felt... Off kilter. Maybe cause I love 13 so much, I don't know. There's always callbacks to other faces when the Doctor first regenerations, but this felt... Wrong? Also, TEE HEE my mind went to Missy IMMEDIATELY and I love that little connection my fic writing brain is going wild.

11. WHY DOES UNIT HAVE SO MUCH MONEY???? Look at this uniforms, holy cow! I almost don't like it? Like, they're an underground agency. WE JUST SAW THEM GET DESTROYED BY CYBERMEN IN THE POWER OF THE DOCTOR. Are we just ignore that entire episode or...?

12. Donna not being able to keep a job? Yeah, THAT one I believe haha.

13. "I will burn down the world for you, darling" says Donna Noble to her transgender kid. WHICH IS AMAZING, WHICH MADE ME SMILE SO WIDE I WAS HAVING A PARTY IN MY BRAIN. There's my Donna! 14. "Gramps used to talk about flying saucers" oh god my heart. I teared up a little, not going to lie. Wilf, I think about you every single day. You made the Doctor the person he is today.

15. MEEP IS SO CUTE. OH WOW. I know "evil" is coming but SO CUTE RIGHT NOW.

16. To go from some excellent animatronics from the Meep to whatever those alien, fly things are was HILARIOUS. What, we'd run out of money for those costume's? Were they meant to look like a typical RTD alien back in the 2000s? How does that work?

17. WHAT THE ACTUAL FLYING FUCK WAS THE SONIC DOING. Wait, did Disney give the sonic some magical powers? Why are we suddenly writing in the air? How are we getting readouts of the ship from the sonic like that? Could it do that before? Why would we not do that before? I'm dying that's so funny.

18. Shirley seems cool!!! I hope we get more of her! And I love the nod to PROPER representation. Chibs did a good job of that as well. Edit: REAL representation! Good on RTD. The scene with the stairs and she says "don't make me the problem"... I am not a wheelchair user but I do hope that was properly done. 19. "I absolutely love her [Donna]" LOOK AT 14 HAVING FEELINGS! Aww, I hope 15 follows through with the feelings! 11, 12, and 13 have been so locked up, so scared to love... Having a Doctor that's ready to loudly embrace their love for things would be such a good character development. (My fear would be RTD ripping that away in the most tragic way possible, but that's a future problem I suppose).

20. I'm at the scene where Rose is talking to the Meep in the shed, and just, again, THE MUSIC. We did have some good musical moments in 13's era but, even I have to admit, nothing as pretty as this. It really is something, round of applause once again.

21. LISTEN. L I S T E N. I don't condone slapping the Doctor. I don't. In fact, it's wrong. It's very wrong. And you can't slap 13, can you? So slapping 14 shouldn't make sense. It's the definition of sexist. It's just not something you should do. BUT. B U T. Jackie's "stitch this, mate" is always in my head and now THIS "here we go again" after Sylvia gives the Doctor a good slap... I laughed, okay? It was funny! But really, in the good year of 2023, there shouldn't be comedy like that. That joke should have died. BUT I LAUGHED. So I'm to blame as well.

22. "Never mind about the ferret from mars." I LOVE the mars callback from Donna, thank you very much.

23. Kate looking after Wilf damn near brought tears to my eyes. Kate, you are the real hero of the DW universe. Thank you.

24. This is... This is gonna be another post. But. Okay. So. The whole "you're assuming he as a pronoun". Right. Okay. I know groups of people that talk like that. Both online and in person. Personal life spoiler, I work(ed) in musical theater. I've seen it all. I, personally, do not like this whole... "Let's be really obvious about it" thing. And also highly believe in someone else first telling me, when it fits, what their pronouns are. Having someone pull the defensive "YOU ASSUMED" crap doesn't work because humans don't think like that. It's a whole other rant, but yeah. This felt forced and I hate when shows do that. Representation is important but FORCING that representation doesn't help.

25. what's the. what's the sonic doing. what. how'd it. we got lines in the air. we got unbelievable shield. we. he waved it like a wand and now. what the. how'd. (Yo, not me head cannoning that this is 13 banging around in 14's head demanding that they have a better way to protect their friends. Love it). I WILL HAVE A LOT MORE THOUGHTS ON THIS.

26. DW has money now. That will continue to blow my mind.

27. "This is a sonic screwdriver and if it's good at one thing, it's resonating concrete". Oh yeah, Doctor? I'd like to bring forth you, never once, being able to do it. Not once! (And now it's good at creating magical shields and complex, alien holograms, but that's point #25)

28. Where'd in hell's name did he get that wig and how soon can Donna throw it out a window?

29. MEEP YOU - YOU UTTER AHOLE. Man, it was SO CUTE

30. O k a y. I take back, holy crap what point am I on? I take back point #7. So there's some of the Doctor left in her, eh? That's why! I dig that. I really, really dig that. Sorry for being a downer, that was my mistake.

31. I too can come up with technobabble bullcrap that means nothing. I sometimes think that's RTD's biggest failing, his incessant need to over describe things. EDIT. JEEZ, a good five minutes later as we're STILL talking gibberish.

32. Hey, I see you "glass wall between Donna and the Doctor" and raise you "glass wall between Wilf and the Doctor". OW. I demand emotional compensation!

33. Listen, I just got over 13 keeping every. single. emotion inside of her. She never raised her voice, she never really cried, she never had a chance to just scream and yell and be angry at the universe. The fact that there's 14 RIGHT HERE, screaming, because to save Donna, he has to lose her YET AGAIN. Just angry and devastated and grieving... It's a stunning scene, it's a scene that makes sense, but my 13 loving little heart says that this is 13's moment to be angry and it was taken from her.

34. Also, ha, I know Disney bought DW, but did we just "Winter Soldier" Donna Noble. We gave her trigger words to keep her memories at bay? Really?

35. "Hold on a minute," said in Ten's/Fourteenth's voice... Was that.. Was that ELVEN'S theme music while Donna was being, well, Time Lady Donna? Because that was... That was GOLDEN. How amazing is that? What a great idea!

36. You MONSTER, RTD, making Fourteen hold Donna the same way he held the Master? What the hell is that about?

37. The.. The nonbinary, but binary. I... It's... Something! Okay, I'll get there. I'll have a post about it. Maybe. But. Yeah, it's something!

38. DOES UNIT HAVE AVENGERS *cough* sorry it's been a while for Marvel me *cough* STARK TOWER. WAS THAT STARK TOWER? Damn, Disney, you really did bring us back to superwholock Avenger's "Clint in the vents" era, huh?

39. "It's a shame you're not a woman anymore, because she would have understood... Something a male presenting Time Lord will never understand." You can't... You can't do the whole "nonbinary" thing and that just immediately point out gender like that. What. The defeats the entire purpose. The whole point you're trying to make is that gender DOESN'T matter, and yet... And the Doctor has always, always been nonbinary. I refer to the Doctor as "they" when speaking as a collective whole, and many of us have done that. I use pronouns when talking about specific Doctors because humans have always used pronouns. Again, 11 and 13 have made mention that gender has NEVER mattered to them. I just... You can't be poking a bear and then expecting the bear to not to come after you if you've changed the poking object from a stick to a teaser.

40. I gotta laugh that Rose and Donna had the most peaceful "regeneration" we've ever seen. Somewhere in there, a Doctor or two is screaming lol.

41. Oh... The TARDIS is ugly. DON'T HIT ME. STOP HITTING ME. I MEAN It. Not, for real though, Oh my god, what. Why. The colors. Or lack of colors, really. What the fuck. Where's the... Where's the personality? Where's the sass? I've loved every single TARDIS change but THIS... This is a hard one to swallow.

42. The TARDIS having an shit fit over Donna spilling coffee on her is WONDERFUL. That's so funny to me. With everything she's been through with 13, that was just the best way for her to get her revenge! All in all, strange episode, yeah? I mean, what WAS that plot? It was really more of setup for the next episode, and double really meant to reunite ten and Donna, which was well done, but also... Why? It just felt a bit all over the place but very much cushioned by nostalgia. I'm done now. My fingers HURT. As always, and as I say in all my fics, I'm here if you want to chat. Reblog this, PM me, tag me in stuff!

#dw spoilers #dw #doctor who #david tennant #donna noble #dw 60th #doctor who spoilers #dw specials #the doctor #fourteenth doctor #the star beast #DW the star beast

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ambertea · 3 years

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clever

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She’s six years old and she’s just won a certificate for Maths.

Her mum’s sitting at the back of the assembly, exchanging whispers to the single dad sitting next to her. Rose keeps looking back, trying to catch her eye, but instead watches her mother’s hand sneaking up a strange man’s thigh.

The headmaster smiles at her strangely, in a way she will later define as ‘condescending’ but in the moment she can’t wrap her head around.

“Well done, you clever girl.” He says, and Rose hates it. His clammy hand engulfs hers and Rose just blinks as he shakes it up and down.

The school claps dutifully and her mum is still not looking at her.

She’s eleven years old and she hates everyone in her class. They tease her in the playground, mock her in the classroom and the only safe haven is the tiny library. The librarian is old and odd, and she strokes Rose’s hair like she’s nothing more than a tiny doll.

“Don’t try so hard to be clever,” she tells her. “They’ll leave you alone.”

Rose leaves the library and never comes back.

She’s fifteen years old and GCSEs are utter bullocks. Mickey has already failed them all, already told her they don’t matter in the real world. She stays behind after school to sit in empty classrooms to figure out algebra and tells her mum she still does gymnastics.

She gets her results in a thick brown envelope and takes a quick glance at a long list of A’s before she chucks it in the bin.

“Pure shit.” She tells her mum. “Didn’t even try, anyway. I’m just not clever enough.”

Her mum throws her a party regardless, and Rose ignores the ache in her chest.

She’s seventeen and he’s fucking hot.

She’s told her mum she’s doing A-levels because she hasn’t figured out if she wants to do hairdressing or childcare. Instead, she doodles equations on the back of English papers whilst she waits for everyone else to finish.

She meets Jimmy outside the school gates and he’s smoking cigarettes and the smell gets right into the back of her throat. She tells him that it’s bad for him, and he tells her he could be bad for her. He’s right.

She drops out of school and her mother approves because it was giving her airs and graces. What her mother does not approve of is the filthy bedsit she moves into, where she cries as her boyfriend screams at her.

“You think you’re clever, do you?” he yells, and she shakes her head and whispers no, no, never.

She’s nineteen, fucking shop window dummies are after her, and a strange man is standing with her in the lift.

“’Cos to get that many people dressed up and being silly, they got to be students.”

“Good point. Well done.”

She’s wrong, but the praise bounces around her brain.

She runs off with him because apparently, that’s just what she does. Runs off with charismatic men, leaves her mother worried sick, because she is Rose, and Rose is not clever.

This man, however, is no Jimmy. He’s smart – so smart, any small attempts at intelligence still leave her feeling dumb. This is a comfort. She argues with him, thinks around him, and starts to feel a bit better about herself.

He’s sweet as well, and kind, and doesn't care when she asks too many questions. He shows her how to strip wires and repair parts of his precious ship, and they tinker away together in comfortable silences. Now and then, she properly impresses him, and he ignores the beauties of the universe and beams at her instead. It’s strange and wonderful and she tries her best not to disappoint him.

Then she is sent away, he is trapped, and it’s time for her to use her bloody brains only she’s not sure they even work anymore. He is dying, far in the future, but still dying, and she is watching her mum scoff down chips. She doesn’t want to go back to her old life, doesn’t want to play stupid anymore.

“Why, because you’re better than us?”

No, because she has learned what life is like when she tries, and she is not yet ready to stop.

She makes it back, using her brain and a fucking massive truck, and it is worth it if just for the way he is looking at her. He tells her she is fantastic and then explodes into a whole new man, with a lankier frame and wilder hair. He takes a long nap, and she is left to be useless once more.

She stands up in front of actual, breathing monsters and tries to copy words she’s heard, but her voice shakes, and her hands are trembling. They laugh at her, and she is eleven again, being teased by the nasty girls in her class.

He saves the day, because that’s just what he does, and she runs off with him again because his smile is still kind and their hands fit nicely. Cassandra sits inside her brain and hums with curiosity, poking around her mind like it’s a mildly interesting boutique.

“Not as thick as you seem, are you?” She whispers into Rose’s mind.

She’s inside some sort of spaceship and he is gushing over the accomplishments of Reinette de Pompadour. She already knows all this, knows who she is, but he is enjoying the sound of his own voice, so she keeps quiet.

She watches him carefully, notices the lipstick marks around his face and the ridiculous angle of his collar, and stamps down the familiar feelings of jealousy rising within her chest.

It had felt like they were growing closer. Their hugs had been lingering, hands held tightly at any available moment. She had thought something was growing, something small and precious and good. Clearly, she was wrong.

Reinette dies, and Rose isn’t glad, not really, but she watches him carefully afterward and wonders. Wonders why he keeps her around if he even wants her there. She tries to ask, but the words die on her tongue.

She has almost let the feeling go when she meets her father, a man who does not know her and apparently does not care to. She calls him dad and he runs, leaving her crying and shaking and so very vulnerable. She wonders, afterward, why. Why no one has ever wanted her properly, why it feels like no one has even met her in the first place. She sobs into her mum’s shoulder and wishes she had told her about the GCSE results.

Maybe it’s a good thing, she thinks later, that she’s alone. She has no real connections that make her want to stay at home, no real relationships that don’t leave her mentally exhausted. He is her grounding point, her focus, and he doesn’t think she’s stupid, not really, but he doesn’t think she’s clever either.

She knows she loves him; knows she will spend the rest of her life pining for him. It aches, having so much unspent emotion coursing under her skin. Feels like she could explode and implode simultaneously. But his eyes are so soft, and he is so worth it.

“We’ll always be alright, me and you.” She tells him. He just stares into the sky glumly.

“There’s a storm approaching.”

She hopes for a bit of rain but instead gets a fucking earthquake.

She’s twenty-one, she’s in a different universe, and she’s absolutely fine.

“How are you doing?”

“Are you okay?”

“Speak to me, Rose, please.”

She doesn’t speak to anyone. Doesn’t even look in the mirror.

It’s hard to assign blame on a talking pepper pot, so instead, she blames herself. If she’d been stronger. Tried harder. Been cleverer.

She tells her mum this over a bottle of wine, and she just laughs.

“People like us aren’t clever, Rose. We’re survivors.”

She doesn’t want to be a survivor anymore.

She starts working at Torchwood. Starts sleeping at Torchwood as well. Pete gives her the job out of pity but is quickly astonished by the scale of the work she’s doing.

“You’re brilliant.” He tells her one night. Jackie scoffs.

“Brilliant? Hark at her.”

Rose ignores her. It doesn’t matter.

She sits through A-levels, and then university lectures, and then physics conventions with groups of boring boys who follow her like a bizarre squadron. She has a brother now, a tiny boy with eyes just like hers, and when she tucks him into bed, she whispers stories of the stars.

She creates a dimension cannon and brings it home to show Pete. He marvels over it whilst Jackie sniffs like she’s got a nasty cold.

“Just glorified jewelry. Face it, sweetheart. You’re stuck here with the rest of us. It’s time to get used to it.”

“Shut up,” Rose says, and she can feel her pulse banging away in her ears like a marching parade.

Jackie is spluttering, Pete’s eyes are wide, and Rose isn’t quite sure what she’s doing but she’s doing it anyway.

“I can do this. I am going to do this. So just shut up.”

She does do it. She flits around universes like students backpack around Europe, and it’s strangely healing to spend so much time by herself.

She meets tiny aliens made of glass who kiss through the refractions of light and hugs ginormous bear-like creatures who are surprisingly friendly and incredibly soft.

She searches for him, and it hurts and it’s hard but it’s also fantastic.

She gets through finally to a universe that should be right but is oh so very wrong. A red-haired woman screams at her, and Rose is finding it difficult to breathe.

“I'm nothing special. I'm a temp. I'm not even that. I'm nothing.”

“Donna Noble, you are the most important woman in the whole of creation!”

“Oh, don't. Just don't.”

She tells her mum about her GCSE results because she can’t stop thinking about it. Her mum stares at her for a long while and then looks down at her hands. Rose has never seen her mum speechless before, doesn’t like it, so she just nods and leaves.

She finds him, and the feeling rushes right from her toes to the top of her head. She has done it. After all the effort and pain, she has found him, and the uncurling pride is like nothing she’s ever felt before.

He gets shot and utterly ruins it, but the feeling lingers.

Her mum shows up at the worst possible time, but she is there, and she is looking at Rose so fiercely. When the situation calms down and they are safe, she pulls Rose into a tight hug and rubs her hands in circles across the small of her back.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” She whispers, and Rose quickly wipes her eyes on her shoulders.

She is dumped on the same beach she has had nightmares about for the last five years. She is left again, but this time she is left with a familiar man who whispers promises into her ear and holds her like she is something important.

He is looking at her like he’s hoping she might lead the way, and she knows how to do this now, knows how to think and plan and strategize. She kisses him on the cheek, watches the blush that spreads across his cheek, takes his hand, and leads him back to England.

She doesn’t take him straight back to the mansion, hates the idea of speech and silence in equal measure. Instead, she takes him to her lab, and he stares at her designs through startled eyes and stolen glasses. She fidgets in the corner of the room, and wraps her arms around her waist, waiting for his verdict.

He turns to her, whips the glasses off of his face and a look of quiet wonder spreads across his face.

“You’re brilliant.”

She squirms under his gaze, picks off an invisible bit of fluff from her jacket. He is still looking at her, and she tries her best to smile.

“Thanks.”

“No, seriously. These are so impressive.”

She’s still not sure what to do with the praise, but it warms her and fills all the cracked pieces of her soul with new and growing tissue. She kisses him, both because she’s not sure what else to do, and because she can, and he smiles against her lips. They break apart and he runs his fingers over her work, his eyes soft and curious.

“How did you do this?” He whispers, and something tender and precious burns gently in her chest.

“I guess I’m just clever.”

#i've reread this so many times i'm not entirely sure if it makes sense but hopefully!#lol #fic #rose tyler #doctor who

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icecreamsundayonajulyafternoon · 3 years

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A/N: this is also on my ao3: homoeroticmicrowave as a part of my resident evil oneshots (I take requests) For context the reader is a part of Chris’s team and Jill is also there for the mission. Jill and the reader and Chris and the reader are platonic but you can interpret their relationships however you wish. As for the plot of this to sum it up Donna and you basically decided you loved each other and went through a whole little mission that I couldn’t be bothered to write in order to try to escape from everything that wanted to harm you both only to end up dying. I swear I’ll write happier things that aren’t angsty soon.

You lay there with Donna, shot in the snow blood easing the cold that had been so bitter to you. Donna gasped through breathless chuckles as she held your hand. Red bubbles around your teeth as you grinned shamelessly. You have her hand a little squeeze letting her know you were doing this together.

You got out. Maybe you didn’t make it far but you still got to see what it was like there together. You didn’t exchange any magnificent words worth writing in history books nor did you accomplish anything noble and noteworthy but you carved your admittedly short life together in a place that demanded you die in anger and fear without a trace of love.

You had felt remorse for all of the years you could have spent together but it wasn’t worth thinking of when you were so short on time. You would both smile as you went for you were finally together and that in itself was an accomplishment you could be proud of.

Your team surely cursed you for leaving them for a woman who you were supposed to despise and take down. But you did your job didn’t you really, she was down and so were you and while you wished that this segment of the mission had been a failure you didn’t want to soil the moment where you got to hold your hand and watch a sky that finally seemed peaceful.

You felt comfort in knowing your lover was with you as you went.

Your head turned towards her.

You should be scared.

Your visions fading.

You smiled.

‘Beautiful.’

Jill found your body and she screamed in pure rage. She was so hopelessly furious. She was angry at you for being so careless and stupid as to betray people you had known and cared for all for some woman who ultimately got you killed. Angry at the woman who you had chosen over everything and everyone else. Angry at the woman who you had abandoned the world for because she had let you. Angry because she hadn’t been able to save you. Angry at the world around her for allowing this to happen. Angry because she had left you alone in the mission and now she had lost you forever. Angry as you had left her to live.

When Chris made it back without Ethan he felt so rough as he had to tell Mia that her husband wasn’t coming back. All he wanted to do was kick off his shoes and clothes and flop onto his bed. He took a seat next to Jill who’s face held a certain melancholia that he thought his own might reflect. He asked her if she was okay but she didn’t utter a word in response. His eyes wondered round his squad but he couldn’t find your face.

Chris looked at Jill in confusion as he asked where you up were. Jill couldn’t answer him. She couldn’t handle answering him. She hadn’t even processed yet alone accepted what had happened. She didn’t want to give him an answer. She didn’t want to accept that it was true. ”Jill, where are they” a cruel thought that she must have just not heard him teased his mind.

Jill grit her teeth and tried to focus on anything but Chris. Tried to block him out of her vision. Tried to tune his voice out with aimless thoughts. But he was still there and he wasn’t going away. She had to respond. She didn’t have a choice. “They’re not coming” her words seemed vague in the part of Chris’s mind that feigned a lack of recognition as to what her words meant. He denied the obvious meaning that flared and burned his buried happiness that he had managed to scavenge despite so many tragedies until it was charred.

Jill’s eyes were wide with an intensity she hadn’t shown in so long as words that didn’t fit her spilled from her mouth “They’re dead Chris I found their body they’re dead it’s in a bag over there if you really want to see it so badly”

Chris stared blankly at Jill an immediate drop in his facial expression as he turned his head away from her. He didn’t want to listen to her. He wanted to get mad. He wanted to argue. But he was tired. He was so, so tired and he didn’t want to be tired anymore.

When given opportunity to he doused himself in alcohol, smearing it all through his liver until he was sure he would pass out or die. He wouldn’t die though. He never did.

He never visited your grave. Never payed any real respects to you. Never brought any flowers or conversed with any of his fellow grieving. Never spoke of you to anyone. He simply went on as if you had never existed. You haunted him nonetheless. When he was so close to sleep but not quite there his thoughts twisted and bent so that you could reach them. Your face convulsing into a sick scream as he preached his sorrow and repented for how he hadn’t been able to get to you. You danced with all of his other ghosts that paraded in his misfortune and woes. Your face now a picture of horror to him. Your very name brought an unspeakable agony.

He was never a crier and he didn’t cry for your death and he went on for a week without a single tear and he had no intention of spilling any.

And then his fucking pen ran out.

He had been writing out paperwork by hand because the internet crashed and he couldn’t wait for it to be fixed as he needed to get through it all quickly with an efficiency that he had been expected to achieve. But then his pen ran out midway through writing it and he should have just got up and grabbed a new one but he didn’t think and he started pressing harder and scribbling but no ink came out it just left indents in the paper and in a moment of unfiltered frustration he slashed his paper with the pen and then the fucking ink came out and now his work was ruined because he was an idiot and why did he even do that.

Then he was crying. He was curled up like a toddler on the floor crying over a fucking pen in a red, burning frustration and misery. Then did he really start mourning you. Your name now blasting across his mind as he thought of what your corpse must have looked like. How your pretty face must be ruined with rot. How he hadn’t even thought of you during the mission and had just assumed you were okay. How he had been so cold as to not even turn up to your grave at any point besides the funeral that work had required him to go to. It was always about work with him. Did he even have a personality outside of that? Was he even a person outside of that? All he was was his work and he couldn’t even do that right. He couldn’t even keep his squad alive. He truly was a waste of a person. He couldn’t keep anyone alive but himself and he wasn’t sure he wanted to even do that.

He slammed his hand down on his tiled floor and he screamed a momentous scream. He hated himself so much. He hated being alive so much. He hated everyone dying on him so much. He cradled himself as the tears just kept coming and coming and if anyone saw him like this they’d think he was a complete pussy and if not it would only be because they’d be mesmerised by the fact that he was actually capable of experiencing emotion.

He was so overcome by his deep and endless grief that he fell asleep right there on his cold floor. Nobody was left to love him. Nobody was left but him.

He dreamed of happier times with happier people and a happier him. He wanted to stay in that fantasy forever even if it was all make believe and childish. He wanted to be childish for once. Hell he wanted to be a child again. He wanted to be able to be vulnerable again and feel unconditionally loved again. He wanted to be able to take that love for granted. He wanted to be able to be young again and do stupid things that kids do. He wanted to wake up and start over with no memories of the future and brush his reality off as a silly little nightmare that could be kissed away.

He didn’t want to be hurt anymore.

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harmony88 · 3 years

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You're Donna Noble.

Excerpt from my current WIP below.

Series: Forever With You Part 3

Story: Serpent’s Soul

Summary: Following an unexpected visit to Torchwood 3 for the first time in nine months, the Doctor and Rose end up taking Donna on a trip by herself, but nothing is quite what it seems, and it appears the universe may just be up to something.

“You are avoiding the party,” the Doctor said with a smirk, and Donna rolled her eyes, looking up at the stars.

“No, I’m not,” she said. “Just wanted a bit of air.”

He watched her, noticing the way she was gripping the edge of her mug as if her life depended on it, and he looked back downstairs, where Rose and Alice were smiling and dancing with the happy couple.

“Can I sit?” he asked.

“Do what you want, spaceman. You’re a grown man,” she muttered, and his brow creased as he took a seat beside her, wrapping his arms around his knees as he tried to spot what she was looking at.

“Orion’s belt,” he mused. “Ursa Major. Ursa Minor. Cassiopeia...Ooh...If Rose and I have another girl at some point, remember that one…”

Donna rolled her eyes and smiled softly, but she didn’t look at him, and his goofy grin fell when he saw the way she was trying to take deep breaths, and he realized she was trying not to cry.

“Donna…”

“I’m fine,” she said, still looking at the stars, but she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned, but she just shook her head and fluttered her lips, her gaze dropping to her shoes. “Did I say something rude again?”

She finally looked at him, his joke doing what he hoped, but he clenched his jaw and swallowed when he saw the look in her eye. There was a word for it, he was certain of it, but he couldn’t place it at the moment because all it was making him want to do was pull her into a hug, and that was exactly what he did.

A little to his surprise, she reciprocated instantly, practically squeezing him, and he let out a breath and met Rose’s eyes through the door, who bit her lip but didn’t walk outside, giving them some space. Donna pulled away, sniffing and wiping her nose with her sleeve, and the Doctor just sat next to her, unsure what he was supposed to say.

“I’m happy for them,” she whispered. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “You’ve told them that?”

“Of course I have,” she groaned, and he furrowed his brow.

“Okay, well… Good, then. That’s good, right? Do you want to go back inside or -”

“No,” she sighed, setting her mug to the side, and his eyes never left her face, trying to figure out what was going on. “Not yet. I’m fine.”

“Those two words are some of my favorites,” he said thoughtfully, and she looked at him. “Right next to ‘complicated’ and ‘Allons-y.’”

“Complicated is good,” she whispered, and he reached over and grabbed her hand, choosing not to push her on whatever was bothering her, but at the feel of his touch, her jaw began to tremble, and he pulled away instantly. “Sorry.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I can go get Rose,” he murmured, but she shook her head. “Donna.”

“She’s having fun with Alice, I…. They deserve that, the two of them. She really is beautiful, by the way. Looks so much like her it’s…”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile, and Donna let out a shaky breath. “She’s started to say ‘Mama’ and ‘Dada’. It’s… I cried.”

“Ianto owes me money,” she teased, and he rolled his eyes. “Oh shut up. Of course you cried. Your entire world is those two. We all know that.”

He just winked, and she laughed a little, picking her mug back up and taking a sip, ignoring the fact the tea had started to grow cold. She sighed. “You’re thinking about more kids?”

“Thinking is the operative word,” he said, clearing his throat. “We want to wait a bit. But...well…”

“Hm,” she said in response, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?” he asked. She smiled.

“I think it’s wizard,” she said honestly, and he grinned back at her. “You are - if I have to say it - quite the father, Doctor. And Rose is Rose. Your kids will be a force to be reckoned with. Already are.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, and she nodded, then turned her attention back to the stars. “So… what was the ‘hm’ then?”

“Nothing,” she lied, and he waited, because he could tell she was about to tell him more. “Just… things are changing. And it’s good. It’s so good, it’s the best. But I can’t help but feel like there is going to come a day where you have so many kids you won’t be able to have any other companions on that ship of yours -”

“It’s bigger on the -”

“That’s not the point,” she said. “And like I said, it’s good. But Martha and Mickey are getting married. You’re married. Jack and Ianto probably will get married. Gwen has been seeing some bloke she won’t talk about, and I’m just…”

“Donna, don’t do that,” he tried to say, but she shrugged, and he watched her tuck her hair behind her ear and sigh.

“I would have been married for… what, four years now?” she asked, meeting his eyes with hers. “I’ve just been thinking about that today. Wondering, I guess. What my life would have been.”

He didn’t say anything, and she sighed, taking another sip of tea.

“You deserve so much more than bloody Lance Bennet,” he said seriously, and she laughed.

“I know that,” she told him, but he wasn’t convinced, and she shook her head. “I’ve just been thinking, Doctor. But I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. She nodded.

“Part of me wishes I didn’t wonder about it so much,” she said. “It’s all my Mum wants for me which makes me not want to do it because God do I love pissing that woman off…”

He smirked, and they both chuckled a little until she continued.

“But then… Then things like today happen, and it’s all I can think about. And I’ve never done this before, but I’ve been looking at Alice and Tony wondering if I would have had a kid they could play with, too. And then you go and talk about having more and -”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and her mouth fell closed. “Donna, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize -”

“Stop,” she half-ordered. “Like I said, I think you should. It’s wonderful, seeing you so happy. I remember you two when we met. Whole other story.”

“We were happy,” he said.

“You were two idiots in love,” she teased. “I just don’t think I’ll ever have that.”

“I think you’re wrong,” he whispered, conviction lined in his words, and her breath hitched in her throat. “You’re Donna Noble.”

“I’m nothing special, Doctor,” she whispered, and he stared at her.

“Look at me,” he said, clenching his jaw when she did rather hesitantly. “Yes you are. You’re brilliant. And bright. And brave. And a whole lot of other things. It’s just a matter of time.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, not sure what to say as the words tried to dig into the chambers of her heart, and she took his hand, looking up at the stars again. “Your nougat center is showing again, mate.”

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “It’s also the truth.”

She looked at him, wondering how he managed to make her almost believe him.

“I...” she whispered. “Thank you.”

#best friends #doctor and donna #fanfic #tenrose #alternature universe #doctor who #tenth doctor #rose tyler #donna noble

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 3 years

Text

Okay, so I’ve been tagged several times in this “favorite opera lines” thing going around, and even though I’ve already done 5 of my favorites, I will go ahead and do more because why not?

So in no particular order:

...Can I just do all of Tatyana’s letter scene? please? okay.

Schchastye bilo tak vozmozhno,

Tak blizko! Tak blizko!

Happiness was once possible,

so close! So close!

-Eugene Onegin, Act III

Už je večer,

smím odbednit okeničky.

Všude tma, všude tma,

jenom měsíček bědným

lidem září a plničko,

plničko, hvězd..

Night falls;

now I can open the blinds.

Everything is dark, everything is dark,

and the poor have only the moon

and a whole legion of stars...

-Jenufa, Act II

Selig sind die Liebenden.

Die der Liebe sind,

sind nicht des Todes.

Und auferstehen werden

die dahingesunken

sind um Liebe.

Blessed are those who love.

Those who love

are not of the dead.

And those who died

for love

shall rise again.

-Das Wunder der Heliane, Act I

Le malheur, ma fille, n'est pas d'être méprisée,

mais seulement de se mépriser soi-même.

The misfortune, my daughter, is not to be held in contempt,

but only to have contempt for yourself.

-Dialogues des Carmélites, Act III

Prends cette île

qu'il est toujours en mon pouvoir

de te donner!

Un flot azuré bat ses grèves,

elle est belle, plaisante,

et c'est l'île des rêves!

Take this island

which is still in my power

to give you!

An azure wave beats at its shores;

it is beautiful, pleasant,

and it is the island of dreams!

-Don Quichotte, Act V

C'est Thaïs, l'idole fragile qui vient

pour la dernière fois s'asseoir à la table fleurie.

Demain, je ne serai pour toi plus rien qu'un nom.

This is Thaïs, the fragile idol who comes for the last time to sit at your flowered table. Tomorrow, I will be nothing more to you than a name.

-Thaïs, Act I

Ist das noch der Diwan, - auf dem sich -

dein Vater - verblutet hat? -

Is this still the sofa- on which-

your father- bled to death?

-Lulu, Act II

L'error che v'imputai...

Io... stessa... avea commesso.

The crime of which I accused you...

I...I myself...committed with him.

-Don Carlo, Act IV

“Rivolto allor Gesù al popolo assembrato

mostrò l'adultera ch'era a suoi piedi e così disse...

‘Quegli di voi che non peccò,

la prima pietra scagli.’

E la donna... la donna

perdonata s'alzò.”

Perdonata... perdonata... perdonata!

Iddio lo pronunziò.

“Then Jesus turned to the assembled people,

indicating the adulteress who was at his feet, and spoke thus:

‘Those of you who have not sinned,

throw the first stone.’

And the woman...the woman,

forgiven, arose.”

Forgiven...forgiven...she is forgiven!

God has spoken it.

-Stiffelio, Act III

Écoutez! Ces martyrs de la foi sont en prière là...et du Seigneur ils chantent les louanges...

en attendant la mort!

Vous, dans ce triste lieu,

répondez comme si vous étiez devant Dieu!

Listen! These martyrs of the faith are praying there...and they sing the praises of the Lord...while awaiting death!

You, in this place of grief,

answer as if you were before God!

-Les Huguenots, Act V

È se accusarmi il mondo vuol

pur di qualche errore,

m'accusi di pietà,

non di rigore.

And if the world wants to accuse me

of some error,

let it accuse me of mercy,

not cruelty.

-La clemenza di Tito, Act II

Ein Traum hat mir den Traum Zerstört,

Ein Traum der bittren Wirklichkeit

Den Traum der Phantasie.

Die Toten schicken solche Träume,

Wenn wir zu viel mit

Und in ihnen leben.

Wie weit darf sie es,

Ohn' uns zu entwurzeln?

A dream has dashed my dream to earth,

a dream of crude reality has killed

the dream of fantasy.

The dead send us such dreams

when we spend too much life

with and in them.

How far can we go in grief

before disaster?

-Die tote Stadt, Act III

Che un dì rinasca, io spero,

dell'aurea età l'albore;

che degli umani in core

regni fraterno amor.

I hope that one day the dawn

of the Golden Age is reborn;

that brotherly love reigns

in the heart of humanity.

-Il viaggio a Reims, Act I

Gibt es einen, der nicht trivial ist?

Is there an ending that isn’t trivial?

-Capriccio, Final Scene

Tutto nel mondo è burla.

L'uom è nato burlone,

La fede in cor gli ciurla,

Gli ciurla la ragione.

Tutti gabbati! Irride

L'un l'altro ogni mortal.

Ma ride ben chi ride

La risata final.

Everything in the world is a joke.

Man is born a joker,

In his mind, his reason is

always wavering.

Everyone is fooled! Every

mortal taunts each other.

But he laughs well who

has the last laugh.

-Falstaff, Act III

Les métaux, ces fleurs souterraines

Aux impérissables couleurs,

Ne brillent qu'au front des reines,

Des rois, des papes, des grands-ducs,

et des empereurs.

Honneur aux maîtres ciseleurs!

Tra la la la,

Honneur aux maîtres ciseleurs!

Metals, those underground flowers

with never-fading colors,

only shine on the brows of queens,

of kings, of popes, of grand dukes,

and of emperors.

Honor to the master metalworkers!

Tra la la la...

Honor to the master metalworkers!

-Benvenuto Cellini, multiple appearances throughout the opera

Leicht kann des Frommen Herz auch wanken

Und überschreiten Recht und Pflicht,

Wenn Lieb' und Furcht der Tugend Schranken,

Verzweiflung alle Dämme bricht.

Ist's recht, auf einer Kugel Lauf

Zwei edler Herzen Glück zu setzen?

Und unterliegen sie den Netzen,

Womit sie Leidenschaft umflicht,

Wer höb' den ersten Stein wohl auf?

Wer griff' in seinen Busen nicht?

Even the pious heart can easily swerve

And step away from right and duty,

When love and fear of rightousness' limits

Despair breaks all bounds.

Is it right that two noble hearts' happiness depends on the course of one bullet?

And if they are defeated by the nets

in which passion entwines them,

Who is to raise the first stone?

Who does not look into his own heart?

-Der Freischütz, Act III

Adieu donc, vains objets qui nous charment sur terre !

Salut, premiers rayons de l'immortalité !

L'infini m'appelle et m'éclaire ;

Je meurs pour la justice et pour la liberté.

So farewell, useless things which charm us on earth!

Greetings, first light of immortality!

The infinite calls me and enlightens me;

I die for justice and for liberty.

-Hérodiade, Act IV

Liberté, redescends des cieux,

Et que ton règne recommence!

Liberty, come down again from the skies,

and may your reign begin anew!

-Guillaume Tell, Act IV

Écoute bien:

Là-bas au fond du cimetière,

il est deux grands tilleuls! c'est là que pour

toujours je voudrais reposer!...

Si cela

m'était refusé... si la terre

chrétienne est interdite au corps

d'un malheureux,

près du chemin

ou dans le vallon solitaire

allez placer ma tombe!

En détournant les yeux

le prêtre passera...

Mais, à la dérobée,

quelque femme viendra visiter le banni...

et d'une douce larme, en son ombre tombée

le mort, le pauvre mort... se sentira béni...

Listen well!

Down there, at the back of the cemetery,

there are two great linden trees! It is there I wish to rest forever!...

If this is refused me...

if Christian ground is forbidden to the corpse

of a wretched man,

go place my grave

near the road

or in the lonely valley!

While turning his eyes away

the pastor will pass by...

but if, in secret,

some woman will come visit the banished man...

and with a gentle tear having fallen on his spirit...

the dead man, the poor dead man...will feel blessed...

-Werther, Act IV

Tu vois bien que je parle la sienne

quand je l'embrasse ainsi...

You well see that I speak the same [language as her]

when I embrace her like this...

-Ariane et Barbe-bleue, Act II

Pourquoi, les maîtres?

Parce qu'ils t'on fait naître, se croient-ils le droit

d'emprisonner ta jeunesse adorable?

Why are they the masters?

Because they gave birth to you, they believe they have the right

to lock away your adorable youth?

-Louise, Act II

#opera #opera tag #quotes #opera quotes #too many people to tag lol

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that-homoerotic-blouse · 4 years

Text

Stellar Moments

Pairing: Ten x Rose

Rated: T

Wordcount: 1, 330

Summary: a UNIT employee tunes in to an extraordinary frequency (Outsider POV)

For the prompt, “after all this time, it was always her”

***

She had always been good at listening. Not that she was quiet or shy or reserved in any way, mind you—it was just a skill; that’s how she preferred to think about it. And as such, it could be trained, honed and perfectioned. For years now, this skill had been both her tool and companion. It had gotten her a few promotions, too.

She had never been a military kind of person, but she found her job at UNIT paid off more than well. Especially when all she had to do was monitor frequencies on speakers and computer screens: satellites, probes, missions, teleport jumps and, occasionally, external threats. It was peaceful, or, as peaceful as it could be in an organization of national—and global—security. She loved it anyways.

But there was a particular signal she was fond of; one that made her jump in her seat without fail every time it appeared on the incoming monitor. It was unusual; rare, to say the least. There was no logical way to predict when it would arrive; there seemed to be no consistency. More or less, however, there was a pattern, a certain degree of periodicity. Once every year, give or take, without further notice, they would receive a message—no codification, no encryption whatsoever—from some random coordinates that located the source somewhere around the Earth orbit.

“Hello! This is the Doctor in the TARDIS,”

It always began like that. The squeaky voice and the glee in his tone reminded her of old customized voicemail. She used to have one like that on her Nokia, years ago.

But that was never the full message.

“Oi!”

“Oh, yes! Sorry, this is the Doctor and Rose Tyler in the TARDIS,”

Ah. TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension in Space. Him. And her. Everyone knew about them. And nobody did. Since the Christmas invasion and Canary Wharf, they’d had records about them (sketchy as they were). And then there came the vanishing stars and the stolen planets and their story took on the shining hue of legends and myths. Immortal.

Or almost.

They had been receiving the same signal for eighty years now. Eighty years.

Most of the times, the messages were trivial, hardly more than a routine check-up.

“Hi, this is Rose Tyler and the Doctor in the TARDIS,”

“Bonjour, Buongiorno or Guten Morgen! This is the Doctor and…”

There’d be sounds of thumps, metallic bangs and clangs of all sorts and the frequency would wobble. Her best guess was that the ship was going through some kind of turbulences. A few seconds after nevertheless, they’d come to a halt and the wavelength would be stable again, and the next sound she heard were always their voices, breaking into a relieved but lively laughter, and she couldn’t help but wonder what the bloody hell was so funny about turbulences in deep space.

Unfortunately, the signal only transmitted sound. She had asked some of the technicians about it, but they said that if they were truly sending visual input, the video frequency was probably lost somewhere along the wavelength. Pity, really. She would’ve given anything to see their faces, just one time. No matter how short or brief the messages were, there always seemed to be a certain atmosphere, like a bubble: a microcosm encased in a single audio track, a shared something between the two speakers that gave away more than their words ever could.

“UNIT control tower, this is Martha Jones speaking from the TARDIS,”

“Hello! Donna Noble here, in the old box. Do you read me? Do you read me? Um, I feel like I’m in one of those films… What! How do you mean they can’t hear me?”

But they weren’t the only ones speaking. There was a whole range of voices. With enough time and care, she had come to memorize all of them. Some older, some younger, some light, some teasing, some serious—but they all seemed to share, to drink from the same microcosm of glee and wonder and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

The frequency fascinated her beyond measure. It was like nothing she’d ever heard.

And so, she listened.

Sometimes, he told puns. Very, very bad, awful puns. As to why he did this, she had no idea. The ship’s signal was unidirectional; it wasn’t a conversation, it wasn’t a telephone line. And yet, odd as it seemed, it was as if he knew that there’d be a keen ear on the other end, that somehow, whoever it was, whatever life they led, they wouldn’t mind a cheering up, something to throw them off the monotony and make their day just a little brighter. And he succeeded, every time.

“Never trust atoms… they make up everything!”

“Okay, that’s it, spaceman, I’m booting you out of the TARDIS right now!”

But there was always laughter in the background, and she knew it was alright. And there was no helping it: she laughed with them, too.

Other times, he left songs to be transmitted through the frequency, wavelengths floating on into oblivion. Funnily enough, they were all from the Beatles. Who would’ve thought.

Whenever she got bored, on particularly quiet nights, when the world was safe and the office empty, her mind itched with curiosity and she retrieved some of the previous messages. She played them all from the beginning. One gigantic rewind.

“Hello there, beautiful. This is Captain Jack Harness speaking, how’s your day going?”

“Jackie, no, no, no! Please, don’t touch that!”

“Hello! This is Rose Tyler and the, err, is that water? Doctor, what the hell! The swimming pool is leaking again!”

“Hi! This is Tony Tyler in the TARDIS. You should see this place, it’s the coolest ship in the…”

***

She awoke with a deep buzz in her ears.

Her neck ached and every limb felt heavy and numb. Trying to blink the pain away, she raised her head from the unforgiving spot on a too messy desk and her gaze wandered over the controls. The monitor showing the audio track had given way to dead static. A terminal patient. She switched it off and the buzz drilling into her head ceased. The room should’ve succumbed to silence, but for some reason it didn’t. It was not until a few seconds later that she noticed the alarm.

Incoming signal.

She was suddenly thrown off her chair. Her mind felt brilliantly clear all of a sudden, as she started to fiddle with the keyboard. Adjusting the alignment of the radio frequency, she gave permission to the caller and opened all the audio tracks. One monitor to her left jumped unexpectedly to life. She squinted at the bright Technicolor. To her growing astonishment, there was visual input.

She froze.

The image of a person appeared on the screen: a man. Grey. Old. Frame thin as bone. And a frown just as prominent as his nose. There was a sense of enigma about him, something ancient and unfathomable, but also of nakedness, a kind of vulnerability that only came with things lost, eyes heavy with something akin to sadness. The quality of the image was fuzzy and blurred, the connection weak, but there was no mistake as to who that was.

It was long before he spoke.

“Hello, this is the Doctor in the TARDIS,”

Gone were the squeaky jokes and the goofy laugh. It was the first time she heard that voice: dark and measured and… Scottish?

This time, there were no other voices. No other people in the background. He was alone.

She had a sense of foreboding.

Because, after all these years, after decades and decades of inconsequential messages and unsteady signals, after songs and puns and travels and bumps and clangs and bangs and laughter, there had only been one constant, and one constant only. Because, after all this time…

“After all this time, it was always her.”

The Doctor made his last confession, and she listened.

***

Read on Ao3

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nat-20s · 4 years

Note

Hey I just rewatched Journey’s End and now I’m sad about Donna again, could you hit me with some of those happy-ending Donna AUs/headcanons or something?

Some Happy Post Journey’s End Headcanons That Can Be Pried From My Cold Dead Hands

-after taking sick leave and realizing that doesn’t have a current job, she starts doing entry level work for non-profits- she has a weird urge to do GOOD and a whole LOT of it so she decides that if she’s doing work it’s going to be for charities

-she doesn’t technically need to work due to the payout settlement, and her and shaun definitely get a nicer place, but she still goes part time because she gets bored easily

-while she’s there, she starts getting all of these IDEAS about her own fondation but she doesn’t know where to start

-after reading into a few pamphlets and browsing some websites she decides fuck it, i have money and time now, I want to go back to school

-she ends up attending St. Luke’s University for several years, eventually getting her PhD in social work

-She thinks Dr. Donna has a better ring to it than Dr. Noble, so she goes by her first name but also emphasizes the “doctor”

-While she’s still a TA and working on her degree, she befriends this weird older scottish professor Dr. John Smith

-they go to lunch and bitch about the business department a lot

-he straight up CRIES with pride when she gets her degree and gives her the world’s BIGGEST” hug which is a little weird cause he’s not always an overly affectionate person and she’s like :)? okay? but not in a bad way

-she ends up running a halfway house that has a particular talent for turning around people that were thought to be lost causes. it feels right to her

- for a couple years she has a delightful assistant named Jenny who she defintiely does NOT view as a daughter, shut up

-one time John visits her at work and Jenny is like “oh hey dad” and Donna is like WH-

-during her undergrad courses she double majored in astronomy and she was?? way better at math?? than she thought she should be???

-she lives a good life and DOES a lot of good for people, even if she sometimes has an inexplicable longing for the stars (hence the astronomy degree) and a feeling like she’s missing someone

- when she meets john, the missing someone feeling eases quite a bit, though she couldn’t explain WHY

- she has a very good therapist

#replies #anon #donna noble #nat talks doctor who #twelth doctor #NOBODY CAN TELL ME THAT IM WRONG SO!!#MY CITY NOW

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deathly-shipper · 4 years

Note

Yes absolutely I want to hear about your Hogwarts au

why, my dear sirs, madams and variations thereupon, thank you for your interest!

(fair warning, this is going to be a long ass post because I have FEELINGS about this ship and this au okay??)

- Donna is muggleborn, but you'd be dead wrong if you think she's going to let anyone make fun of her because of that.

-When she was six her mother told her they weren't going on holiday that year, so off she went to the nearest bus stop and got on the Knight Bus. As if anyone involved in that mad acid trip of a bus would bat an eye to a child climbing on the bus alone, so they merely asked where she wanted to go and little Donna just went "Strathclyde!". Her family found her hours later with the help of the muggle police.

- Her first big show of accidental magic was when she was seven. The other kids at school were making fun of her hair, she got so mad that she turned all the other kids ginger too. Trust her to make others see the other side of things.

- So! Fast forwarding to when she's eleven, one ordinary morning Donna and her family are having breakfast, as you do, and someone knocks at the door. Lo and behold it's Professor McGonagall (seriously considered Snape, just because it would be so entertaining to see him explain the magic world to Donna's family, imagine Sylvia Noble talking to Snape.)

-She explains everything to the family; yes Donna is a witch, she has a place in Hogwarts, no Mrs Noble, tuition is free, etc etc.

- Sylvia is obviously the sceptic "magic isn't real!", Wilf may or may have not done a little dance of happiness, Geoffrey is a little too stunned to speak and Eileen (Donna's Nan) is the only sensible mind in this, bless her.

- The first thing that comes to Donna's mind when she is told she can go to Hogwarts is "So I won't have to go to school with Nerys anymore?" After being told that no, you won't have to, she's just a little bundle of joy, I mean, who wouldn't be when discovering you can do magic?

- Moving on, everything is explained, magic is real and a trip to Diagon Alley is scheduled for the next week!

- Now Ten! Ten is from a pureblood family, but currently the only members of said family are him and his older brother, Braxiatel. Their parents died in the first war against Voldemort.

- Ten spent the majority of his life inside the family's property, so he turned to books for his escape. He particularly likes astronomy, history and magical creatures.

- He hasn't got any friends, the only children his age he ever met are the other pureblood kids, and let's be honest, they aren't much like him, poor lad.

- He meets Donna in Diagon Alley when shopping for books, and when I say meet I mean he almost fell on top of her. She gives him hell for it of course, but they manage to get a conversation going about Hogwarts.

- They go their separate ways and both spend the rest of the summer holidays thinking about that weird kid they met on Diagon Alley.

- September the First arrives and they meet again at King's Cross. Donna's whole family has come to drop her off, of course, and Ten and Brax meet them at the platform.

- Brax explains to them how to get to platform nine and three quarters and goes first to demonstrate. Donna is scared, what if it doesn't work for her? Ten senses it and ask Mr Noble if he can take his trolley for him, so he can push Donna's with her. "Together?" "Together."

- They say goodbye to their families and get on the train, and, like Harry and Ron, manage to get a compartment all to themselves. Conversation goes on about all sorts of topics, the magic world, the muggle world, Hogwarts, the houses, what do they do for fun, you know, a bit of everything.

- They arrive at the station and have to get to school by the little boats, Ten does not like the idea. Donna holds his hand to reassure him. She likes this weird boy who talks about stars and creatures so fantastical she almost doesn't believe him.

- Sorting then. They're both nervous, it is all very intimidating after all, even if the idea of a talking hat is kind of funny to Donna.

-She goes first, sits there for about four minutes. After careful deliberations the hat places her on Hufflepuff. Yes, she could have been a Gryffindor, she is very brave, BUT, she's hard working and kind and compassionate, and I feel like her bravery stems more from her wish to help others you know? and more importantly, she's loyal. so, so much, and that's what seals the deal for me.

- Ten. Now Ten, like Donna, could've been a Gryffindor, but the hat decided on Ravenclaw. STILL, that's not where he went. No, my precious boi Ten argued with the hat. He looked at Donna and saw his only friend, the fiery girl who yelled at him when they met and later held his hand when he was afraid. "I want to go with her" he said to the hat, and so he went.

- Yes, they are both in Hufflepuff. No, I don't take criticism on this. This is my au and I make the rules, Hufflepuff is a great house and anybody who thinks otherwise can get the fuck out.

- Hogwarts is not ready for this duo.

- Regarding classes; Donna loves Charms, she's best in class, Flitwick loves her. Ten likes History of Magic, but Bins is terribly boring so he and Donna study on their own. They always pair up in Potions, not the best in class, but have yet to explode a cauldron. Transfiguration is Ten's area, his family is particularly gifted in this subject. Herbology is more Donna's scene, she used to help her nan with her garden so she likes working in the greenhouses. DADA is anyone's game really, with changing professors like that. Now, they both really like flying and they are good at it. Donna joins the house team as chaser in her third year.

- Ten is the second coming of Newt Scamander. He always drags Donna down to Hagrid's hut to see what creature he has most recently acquired. Has been given detention for wandering in the Forbidden Forest. He's also probably friends with the centaurs.

- A couple years pass, the friendship grows and life is good.

- Third year, Donna "I'm good with numbers" Noble tottaly takes Arithmancy and aces it, Ten too of course. They also take Care for Magical Creatures, to Ten's absolute delight, and Divination. But they take one class with Trelawney and decide to take Ancient Runes instead.

- On their fourth year Harry Potter comes to Hogwarts.

- Donna is one second away from screaming bloody murder at Dumbledore's blatant favouritism.

- Fifth year has all that business with the Chamber of Secrets, Ten and Donna are among the few that don't think Harry is the heir.

- But then Donna gets attacked too. Ten is inconsolable, he spends every moment he can with her in hospital wing. Fortunately she is saved by the mandragora potion with the others.

- Now, in sixth year things start getting Interesting. There's this boy who is interested in Donna and she kind of is too, but she's nervous because she hasn't had her first kiss yet. She tells Ten this. He also hasn't kissed anyone yet and he has one of his Ideas. He suggests to Donna that they can be each other's first kiss. That nearly earns him a slap, but he manages to convince her before she takes action. He says that they're best friends and what are best friends for if not helping each other? So she agrees and he goes all out to make it special for her. He takes her to the Astronomy Tower one night when the stars are out and they sit looking at the sky and hold hands. They see a falling star and he tells her to close her eyes and make a wish, he kisses her then. And that my friends, is when the Pinning starts.

- Sirius Black whom???? All they can think about is that kiss.

- Not that they let that ruin their friendship.

- Also, they love Hagrid teaching, he absolutely let them fly on Buckbeak. And Buckbeak is a strong boi, he took the both of them (cue Ten holding onto to Donna's waist and she going "Hands!" but secretly liking it)

- Seventh year, this is a good one folks. This year we continue with the Pinning, yes, but we also have the Triwizard Tournament!

- They tottaly go to the Quidditch World Cup, but manage to leave before the madness start.

- Meanwhile Harry Potter is dreaming about a slightly older version of Ten and freaking the fuck out.

- Back to Hogwarts and the Tournament. Donna speaks French so she makes friends with some of the Beauxbatons girls. Also, tottaly talks well of Hagrid to Madame Maxime.

- They both put their names on the goblet.

- "And the Hogwarts Champion is Donna Noble!"

- Yep, you read that right, my girl Donna is Hogwarts Champion instead of Cedric.

- The goblet inevitably spews out Harry's name and chaos ensues. BUT, we have something different this time, we have the brilliant Donna Noble. She asks if it really is binding if Harry didn't write his own name, and not his full name at that. And it is also against the rules for a fourth school to compete, and as someone had charm the goblet into allowing a fourth school competitor it is not really valid. The teachers are convinced and Harry doesn't participate. He is eternally grateful to Donna.

- The Weasleys are the first to know about the first task, and Ron tells Harry who in turn tells Donna. He takes her to see the dragons with the invisibility cloak.

- Donna asks Magical Creature Enthusiast Ten for help and they study the dragons they have seen.

- On the actual day Donna gets the Hungarian Horntail, but she uses a spell for it to understand her instead of tricking it. She manages to tell it one of it's eggs is false and convince the dragon to give it to her. Full points for spellwork and pacific solutions.

- Magical Creature Enthusiast Ten also immediately recognises the merpeople sound from the egg, so Donna is the first to figure out her clue.

- What she doesn't know is what it is that she has to recover, but she has a plan as to how. She uses gillyweed and practices the BubbleHead spell just in case.

- But first, Yule Ball. Our continued Pinning is going on full force, but Ten realizes that if he wants to go to the Ball with Donna he has to ask NOW.

- And so he does, with more blood on his face than anywhere else. Donna is a confused but secretly hopeful. "You want to go as friends?" "No Donna, I want you to be my date." "Oh" "If you don't want to that's fine-" "I would love to" cue more blushing.

- Donna is a vision on her Ball dress, Ten is so in love.

- So they dance and laugh and generally have fun. Then Ten takes her to the Astronomy Tower again, and they kiss under the starry sky.

- Back to the tasks then.

- Of course it is Ten waiting to be rescued at the bottom of the lake.

- Donna is the first to get there, but, like Harry, she helps the others too. Still first place though, my girl is efficient like that.

- Ten and Donna cuddle for warmth after getting out of the lake, of course.

- Third Task, the maze. Donna ends up saving Fleur and having to fight Krum. She almost doesn't make it to the cup.

- Moody had to change plans and kidnap Harry since he wouldn't be competing in the Tournament. So Harry is in the graveyard, Voldemort returns, yada yada.

- But they didn't account for Donna getting there too. She arrives during the fight and saves Harry.

- So Donna is Triwizard Champion!

- and Voldemort is back, which is a bummer.

- Ten and Donna graduate and start travelling the world with a blue suitcase that is bigger on the inside and that's all I have for now, thank you for reading!

#ten x donna #doctor x donna #tendonna #doctordonna #hogwarts au #dw #doctor who

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

Text

Lilith Clay is one of those characters that I never ever would actually want to be friends with, because she would be EXHAUSTING.

But as a reader? I adore her, because she is amazing and when allowed to be, hilariously entertaining.

For the record, I have been maintaining for decades....forget your headcanons about Donna being like a big sister to Jason in his Robin years, or all the back and forth about Kory and Roy as Jason’s friends now instead of Dick’s.

No. The true potential....and the true danger....has always been if Lilith had decided to take Jason under her wing.

(On a whim, no doubt, as that’s how she decides most things. including whether or not she feels like getting up and superheroing today or if she’s going to just sleep through the alarm indicating intruders in the Tower and trust the others to handle it. Like if they can’t, they’re probably all going to be killed by the intruders anyway, whether she’s in bed or out of it, and no one’s going to care at that point. Whereas if she doesn’t get at least three more hours of sleep, she’s going to be cranky all day and she absolutely will take it out on everyone. So really, trusting in her friends’ capabilities and ensuring she’s not a cranky bitch at them all day after they’ve just fought off intruders in their own home - when you think about it, really, isn’t this the most noble choice available to her right now?

Welcome to the mind of Lilith.)

So yes, I maintain the real Titan to worry about Jason catching the attention of, is and always was....Lilith.

Like, the very first time Dick brought Jason to the Tower and introduced him to everyone, it would have been perfectly in character for her to wander into the room deliberately late, managing to somehow look like she was gliding, because she practices that the same way the Batfamily practices walking without making noise. And then ignore everyone else and just zero in on Jason, point a finger straight at him, and intone in the same ringing inflections she uses to tell the team she’s had a vision about the end of the world:

Lilith: Him. I see his potential, just waiting to be unlocked. The Bat knows not what he has there, but I will mold this young man like the Clay from which I take my name, and he will be. A legend.

Jason: ....huh?

Dick, throwing up his arms: This! This is why I didn’t want to bring Jason to the tower. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Bruce just thought I was being a jerk because I’m mad about the Robin thing still, or that I was just being possessive of my team but no. I KNEW putting the two of you in the same room was a bad idea, and it was going to bite me in the ass big time. I even told Donna this was going to happen.

Donna: Its true, he did. I can confirm.

Lilith: Look, Dick, I just really really think he has a lot of potential and there’s a lot I can teach him and I promise I’ll be super careful with him and I won’t break him...

Dick: See, its the fact that you think “I won’t break him” is a legitimate reassurance to make about being around a thirteen year old that concerns me. Along with fifteen million other things.

Lilith: Ugh. Fine. Well if you’re gonna be a little bitch about it, I might as well tell you I’ve seen a great calamity coming, and he’s going to play an important role in it and only I can make sure he’s prepared in the way he has to be, or it could mean the end of everything! Now is not the time to be all Neurotically Overprotective Bat Big Brother, Dick, the fate of the world is at stake!

Dick: Well when you put it that way....I don’t believe you.

Lilith: Great, so now you’re calling me a liar?

Wally: You lie all the time, Lil. Just last week you told me I was going to die before the end of the year because you were mad I recorded over your Real Housewives on the DVR.

Lilith: Stay out of this Wally or I’ll prove myself right.

Dick: Nooooot helping your case, Lil.

Lilith: Okay fine, but I only lie about stuff I don’t care about. This is obviously different!

Jason unobtrusively sidles over to Garth, whose usual calm face alongside the chaotic back and forths of his teammates makes him stand out as the clear island of sanity in the room.

I mean, Jason’s totally wrong on that count, Garth’s as ridiculous as the rest of the OG Titans and Lilith. He just has a really great poker face.

Jason: I think I just figured out why Dick labeled the bottle of Ibuprofen in his bathroom “Lilith Pills.” So is this like...should I be worried about her uttering some Chosen One prophecy sounding shit, or is she just full of shit like Dick’s saying?

Garth, considering the matter gravely, so as not to give Jason the wrong idea. Just. Its hard to know what would be the wrong idea here.

Garth: The problem is, with Lilith, those things aren’t as mutually exclusive as one might hope.

Jason: Oh. So she might be for real? I knew one of Dick’s teammates was a psychic and had visions sometimes, but Bruce’s face did that twisty thing when he mentioned that. Like, where he looks like he just took a shot of some bad vodka and that means he doesn’t believe someone’s for real but he can’t prove it. But also, sometimes he only looks like that because he just doesn’t like that someone’s for real and he can’t prove otherwise.

Garth: Good eye. If you’ve picked up on that already, you’re clearly insightful. That’s very good. You’ll need it, in this place. And yes, Lilith is legitimately a precognitive and does have visions of the future sometimes. Its just...

Jason: Its just what?

Garth squeezing out the words reluctantly because he doesn’t like speaking ill of his teammates, even though Lilith absolutely knows her own reputation and sculpted it with zeal as she says remaining unpredictable is the key to never being taken for granted...

Garth: Its just that Lilith is a bit like Cassandra of Troy....if Cassandra had prophesied the Trojan War and nobody believed her but the reason was not because of some divine curse, but because Cassandra had a bad habit of saying things like “We should invade Greece first or else they’re going to invade us,” because she was bored.

Jason: ...gotcha.

Garth: And I’m not saying Lil is....I don’t mean she does it on that kind of scale....so much as just...an example of that kind of thing. So to speak.

Jason: So listen to everything Lilith says, but take everything she says with several grains of salt, and as soon as you’ve got some free time, maybe examine those grains of salt under a high-powered microscope just to be on the safe side.

Garth: Exactly. Congratulations, you’re now as prepared to survive Lilith as anyone can be.

Jason: Survive, huh?

Garth: We’re all still kind of hoping she’ll grow into being responsible with her powers while accepting this might just be her version of being responsible with her powers.

Jason: I am maybe no longer as jealous of Dick being the leader of his own team.

Garth: Hey, then you’ve already got your big brother beat. It took us three years before he’d admit regretting he ever volunteered to be team leader.

Anywho....

Buckle in, because I’m in a Lilith mood this week, so am gonna get lengthy about her and her appeal as a character to me, lol.

Like, the first thing you gotta understand about Lilith, is she is the uncontested reigning queen of drama. And don’t even try and come for her crown. She will destroy you. Dramatically.

This is a woman who repeatedly makes herself costumes that have a full on cloak - not a cape, but a CLOAK - so that when she flares it dramatically, its not like a sheet of fabric that’s normally hanging from her back but now swishes around her front, no, she’s got a full on CLOAK that when it flares dramatically, the whole damn thing is moving and swishing and flying every which way.

And because that isn’t enough, she also makes a point to have a hood - and not just a cast shadows covering your face hood, a full on DROWN EVERYTHING WITHIN THAT HOOD IN TOTAL DARKNESS Hood. The kind of Aesthetic that doesn’t just happen naturally with hoods. You have to have that shit custom made.

And does she need this hood for any particular reason? Is her secret identity super top secret? No. It is not. She barely ever even has one. Her civilian name is no big deal if it gets out.

Look, she just really needs the hood, okay.

And sure, one time she came back after being away from the Titans for a few years, and pretended to be a complete stranger who didn’t identify herself as ‘your old pal Lilith” and refused to divulge any personal details, or like....go anywhere without her full cloak and hood identity-shrouding regalia.

And did she need to hide her identity and be super secret hush hush for any particular reason? No, she did not.

Look, she just really didn’t want to tell anybody who she was, cuz then it’d be a whole thing and everyone would be like omg where have you been, tell us everything, and can’t a girl just wanna fight bad guys and save the world and just show up and then clock out and keep it professional? Like, she was just having that kind of a week, is all.

If that week lasted about two years, well that’s the calendar’s fault, not hers.

This is a woman whose base powerset has always been telepathy with a side of apocalyptic visions, but beyond that has gained additional powers at various points over the years.

Like telekinesis. Which she legit, literally had, spelled out definitively in canon as an ability of hers, which she had and could use.

But that she only ever used to levitate.

Thus allowing her to hover. Dramatically. In her cloak and hood. At all times. For no reason.

To be perfectly, abundantly clear: she could fly, but did she fly? Nah. Instead she’s like “is it not enough to just use one’s telekinesis to merely hover in place above everyone else? Dramatically?”

Or teleportation. That was another power she acquired randomly at one point. Mostly inexplicably.

And which she only ever used to teleport into a crowded room so she could impart Urgent Tidings of DOOM. Or to teleport out of a crowded room when people got a little too noisy with the whole “can you give us any more details? A time frame, a context, a guest list for this particular doomsday?” She’s like, look, I just had the vision, its not like I took notes, I’m not some kind of nerd. UGH.

And then dramatically teleporting out of the room with a dramatic swirl of her dramatic cloak.

There were hardly any limitations given for her teleportation, given that there was hardly any context ever given for her teleportation, but there was no sign of any particular limit to how far she could teleport or if she could take anyone with her.

Was this ever explored as a possible advantage for the whole team to make use of in some way? No. But given that its Lilith, its actually NOT a plothole that noted strategist and master tactician Dick Grayson at no point is ever shown asking Lil if they could try seeing if she could teleport with someone else.

See, because Lilith doesn’t LIKE when people know exactly what she can do.

Because then they have the pesky habit of like....asking her to do them.

That, she does not care for.

So those conversations would probably have gone something like this.

Dick: Lilith, do you think you could teleport with someone else? If you could teleport the whole team, that would be very useful to know.

Lilith: So what is it about me, exactly, that makes you look at me and think: this is a soccer mom van? Is it my hair? My posture? Or do I just give off a certain vibe?

Dick: That wasn’t....*sigh* Never mind.

Or....

Dick: Lilith, do you think you could teleport from the Tower here to Gotham?

Lilith: I’m sorry, do I work for you? Am I getting paid? No, no and no to the power of I’m trying to take a nap here. You can take an actual cab home like any normal person, I do not come in shades of yellow and I never go beep-beep.

Dick: I wasn’t asking you to...look, I’m purely trying to establish a baseline for your teleportation.

Lilith: And I’m purely trying to establish a hard line for respecting my right to privacy. You don’t need to know every little thing about me and my powers just so you can jot that down in your little Bat Trapper-Keeper notebook where you anally note every other thing nobody actually needs to know, like a record of your poops.

Dick: I don’t do that....no. Nope. Not doing this.

Lilith: Well is there a reason you’re keeping me from sleeping then? Some of us actually need a certain number of hours of rest to function. We don’t all hang upside down in coffins once a week while our Bat-butler tops off our tanks with IVs of blood.

Dick: Its the middle of the day, you’re in the common room, and you’ve been watching a Real Housewives marathon for the last four hours.

Lilith: Oh, so now you’ve been spying on me this whole time? Where does it end, Dick? Where. Does. It. End.

Dick: Never mind. I just realized I’m not getting paid for this either. I’m gonna go do something productive, like bang my head against a wall.

And then he’d leave while regretting everything, and Lilith would settle back onto the couch smirking because she’s not actually a terrible person and refrains from doing shit like that in actual high stakes situations, but at any other time, successfully running out the clock on Dick Grayson’s Bat-tier patience is like, Peak Entertainment in her book. Wally meanwhile has been sitting on the couch unacknowledged the whole time.

Wally: Why are you like this.

Lilith *shrugging*: I blame my mother.

Wally: You don’t even know who your parents are.

Lilith: Way to rub it in, West! You wanna go? Huh?

Or one more for good measure....

The Titans could be in the middle of a battle far enough away from the Tower they had to take their jet to get there....and out of nowhere, Lilith would teleport in mid-battle, hovering just overhead, and conveniently appearing right between Roy and a villain who’d been sneaking up on him but now was stumbling back in shock and then is backhanded through a building all the way on the other side of the street by Donna, who also only noticed him when Lilith’s arrival drew everyone’s attention there.

Lilith to Roy, whilst hovering (dramatically): I just saved your life there. You’re welcome. You owe me now, but in a few years you’re going to have a super hot brother and if you get him to go out with me, I’ll call us even.

Roy: ....I don’t know what to do with that.

Lilith: There’s a good chance he’s gay, but he could just as easily be bi. Hard to say. The spirits aren’t big on outing people years ahead of schedule.

Roy: Yeah that doesn’t help any.

Lilith: That sounds like a you problem then. Well, my work here is done.

Lilith then proceeds to teleport away. The battle is not actually over yet.

And then of course, we can’t forget that time she got light and fire powers.

Which.

I feel like by this point, I probably don’t have to spell out the hazards of pyrokinetic Lilith.

That of course, led to what at the time was thought to be the culmination of Lilith’s lifelong quest to figure out where she came from and who her parents were.

Because of course Lilith’s backstory has to be as dramatic as everything else about her, this quest took the whole team to Mt. Olympus itself.

Where it was established that Lilith’s development of light and fire abilities were because she was finally coming into her true power...as the daughter of one of the Titans of old....the Titaness of the sun, who had conceived Lilith as a weapon she intended to use to kill all the Olympian gods so she and the other Titans could reclaim their thrones.

Y’know. As one does. Some parents have kids to continue the family name, some for the tax breaks, and some to assassinate their other kids, the Greek gods. No big deal.

Anyway. There is a case to be made that ridiculously high parental expectations are a big part of why Lilith is Like That.

Granted, she was Like That long before she even knew who these parents were, let alone their expectations, but perhaps parental expectations this ridiculously high transcend the usual ordering of time and space. Who can say, really.

Of course, despite how dramatic and difficult Lilith can be at times, and the zeal with which she occasionally torments others whose only real crime was Existing Within Her Vicinity And Thus Totally A Valid Target....

Like, her heart has always always always been in the right place. She is a hero through and through, and has never wavered from doing the right thing when it really matters, or protecting people.

So needless to say, she wasn’t exactly on board with her long lost mom’s life plan for her. Even if that argument did veer more towards “You made me grow up on Earth and think you still get a vote in how I live my life? Hah! Do you have any idea how much Earth sucks?”

Her teammates, who all live on Earth: Hey!

Lilith: What? Oh shut up, you all know its true. Don’t @ me, I’m right.

(Another missed opportunity that I maintain would be perfectly in character for her...I like to imagine that Lilith’s visions sometimes let her glimpse memes and pop culture references years before they become a thing, and so she’s always making references no one else gets and when they call her on it, she insists they’ll get it someday, its not her fault she’s a trend precursor rather than a follower. And of course, the references she makes are only actual memes from the future some of the time. The other times she’s just pulling them out of her ass to see if she can get them to catch on with anyone).

Anyway, Lilith’s overbearing mom, who absolutely is one hundred percent the source of her daughter’s Drama, if that is at all something that can be passed down as a hereditary trait....of course tries to make Lilith play ball.

Dick, flopping down right on the spot, wishing he had popcorn: Oh my god, someone who isn’t me trying to get Lil to do what they want her to do and with not a chance in hell of succeeding. You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment. Nobody talk during the movie, I need to savor every second of this.

Of course, everyone who’s ever been in a room with Lilith already knew how that movie was going to end, so ultimately Lilith’s evil Titan mom and her nefarious plots were defeated by her daughter’s Obstinacy.

That didn’t mean, however, that repercussions of Lilith’s newly revealed origins didn’t linger.

Dramatically.

Lilith: Anyway, so that’s what I think we should do next. So hop to it, Titans! Let’s get a move on.

The rest of the Titans sit around their living room eating breakfast and watching the TV and just in general not budging.

Wally: And you suddenly think you’re in charge because...why? Exactly?

Lilith: Our team is the Titans? I am an actual Titan? It’s literally right there in the name. C’mon, Wally, look alive. Irony isn’t a good enough reason for you to be this slow on the uptake.

Wally: Anyone else wanna field this one?

Roy: Lil, don’t take this the wrong way, because I love you to pieces despite your lifelong commitment to playing Devil’s Advocate on behalf of all the reasons we shouldn’t....

Garth: Great start Roy.

Roy: But the day you’re calling the shots around here is the day I tender my resignation and leave a Roy-shaped hole in the wall as I flee and seek sanctuary with the JSA, the JLA, the Green Lantern Corps....hell, even Bruce.

Lilith: How dare you say such things to me, a celestial being.

Dick: Lil, in the interest of saving time and getting you to move so I can actually see the TV, now would be a perfect occasion to look into the future and see what the chances are of us actually putting you in charge.

Lilith, flopping down on the couch: Oh never mind, I already knew that, and its not like I even actually want the stupid job anyway. Look how grumpy it makes you, and you have way more patience than I do. I just wanted to see how far I could push it. I’m booooooored.

Garth: You do know our TV is rigged to get reception from even other planets, right? We can watch pretty much any entertainment program in the galaxy with this thing.

Lilith: Yes, but none of them have me, so its like, what’s the point, y’know?

Wally: Well do you mind letting us keep watching it at least? We do have lower standards, after all.

Lilith: Fine, whatever. I’ll just...exist, I guess.

Two minutes later...

Lilith: Hey, Donna’s an Amazon and I’m a Titan so that still makes me Donna’s boss at least, right?

All of them, in unison: NO.

And then of course, ultimately it was revealed that all of that backstory was a lie and Lilith’s real parents are both normal humans and she’s just a psychic.

Wally: You mean we went through all of that for nothing? And put up with Lil lording being a demigoddess over us for years?

Lilith: Hey, you still got a free all expenses paid trip to Mt. Olympus out of it, so you’re welcome, and you still owe me. Don’t make me sabotage your meet-cute with the woman you’re gonna marry. I’ll do it. I’ll do it so hard, she’ll think she’s allergic to you.

Wally: ...wait, does that mean I’m not going to marry Frances?

Donna: Oh Wally. You didn’t really ever think you were going to marry Frances, did you?

Wally: No, I guess not. She never really clicked with the rest of you, and to be honest I don’t think any of us would ever work out with someone who didn’t get along with the group.

Donna: ....that was a dig at me, wasn’t it.

Wally: What? No! I swear. I literally just forgot Terry existed for a second there.

Roy: Lucky bitch.

Yes. Lilith wears the title of Drama Queen with PRIDE. Its the entire basis of her claim to being royalty, after all, and no, that’s not at all how that works either, but do you want to try telling that to the woman who can and will get the Lamb Chop’s sing along song stuck in your head until it drives you insane?

One does not simply cross Lilith and get away with it, much in the same way as one does not simply walk into Mordor.

No, one should stock up on Plot Armor, magic rings and immortal wizard companions before even making the attempt, expect to be spotted by the all-seeing, all-knowing Eye of Sauron Lilith from the moment you even try and pull some fuckwittery within her domain, and make peace with the 90% chance this will ultimately all end in a slow motion fall to a fiery demise in a volcano with a super ominous name anyway.

Like, speaking of ominous, let’s note the fact that this is a woman whose psychic powers are at best 10% precognition, comparative to their being 90% telepathy. When picking the only codename she’s ever used, did she decide to go with something that focused on the majority shareholder of her powerset, her status as one of the most powerful telepaths in the DC universe? Something like Esper or Psyche or Brainstorm or like, idek, Sir Thinks-A-Lot?

No. No she did not.

Instead she went with Omen.

(And even that was probably only because the other Titans wouldn’t let her just flat out call herself something with Doom right in the name, on the grounds that would make most people assume she was a supervillain. To which she probably replied something like “Well that’s because most people are dumb and that’s why I don’t like most of them. Why am I even a superhero again?” She’d frame it like a real question she was asking, fully expecting an answer, but then she’d wander off while they were still trying to come up with a response to that because she’s bored now and also she doesn’t really care. Being a hero for her wasn’t always a vocation or calling like it was for the other Titans. It was more like she figured “Eh, I have superpowers and no other major life ambitions, might as well be a superhero. I guess.”)

So yeah, screw the telepathy, she’s like, “Call me Omen.”

An omen for whom, people often want to know? Just how exactly is that name meant to be taken? Is she an omen for the people the Titans try and protect, meant as an aid, to help avert some terrible fate that would otherwise befall them? Or is it meant as like, she’s an omen of doom for the bad guys they fight, a forewarning that thirty seconds from now, the Titans will be kicking their asses?

Or maybe its meant to indicate she’s an omen as to the fate of the world, and her career as a superhero is really her attempt to avert one of the terrible apocalypses she foretells every time she pops back up after a superhero sabbatical and says “Hello, valued friends and comrades. Tis I, the unfortunate bearer of grim tidings. The fate of the world once more rests in our hands, and if we are to have any hope of saving it, we gotta take a road trip. I call shotgun.”

Donna: “You know Lil, you don’t actually have to show up with an apocalypse we have to avert, whenever you get bored or lonely and want back on the team again. You could just say hey guys, I’m back, what’s for dinner.”

Lilith: Wow Donna, I guess you don’t care about the fate of all humanity, since I am trying to prophesy here and you’re totally killing the ambiance and its ticking the spirit world off and messing with my connection to it.

Donna: You don’t have a connection to any spirit world, you drama queen. You’re a psychic who has precognitive dreams sometimes which means whatever you came here to warn us about, you already saw and definitely won’t have an update until you, y’know. Go to sleep again.

Lilith: Umm, excuse you Miss Know It All, that’s not even remotely how my visions work.

Donna; That’s literally what you told us about how they worked.

Lilith: Well I was lying, obviously.

Donna: Why would you have lied?

Lilith: Because I do that sometimes. Are we really at all unclear on that by this point?

Donna: Right. And, you do that, why again?

Lilith: I don’t know, Donna. There you go again, always expecting me to have an answer to every single one of life’s little mysteries. Maybe some things just aren’t meant to be understood, did you ever consider that? Like, why is Dick so inexplicably drawn to redheads and yet he’s never once hit on me, a Known Redhead? If a tree falls in the forest and nobody’s around to hear it, does anybody honestly care? God, is the universe allowed to keep a little of its mystique? Is that okay with everyone?

Dick: If I could cut in for a second. Lil, just to clarify, you’re not lying about this apocalyptic vision for any mysterious reason that’s of course, undoubtedly beyond our ken. Correct?

Lilith: Obviously. I never lie about the end of the world, Dick.

Dick: Great. And just for clarity’s sake, the difference there, that makes that a no-lie zone would be....

Lilith: These end of the world situations always end up involving a lot of work for me, and would I do that much work for anything less than the end of the world?

Wally: Yeah that checks out.

Lilith: You’re going to ski straight off a cliff and win a Darwin Award for how stupid your death is.

Wally: Hah hah, joke’s on you, you already tried using that one on me and I’ve made my peace with it.

Lilith: Dammit.

Dick: Okay. And since we just established you’ve made up so many fake deaths for Wally over the years that you’re actually recycling old ones at this point, I gotta ask, one more time, just for complete clarity....so the intel about your vision is one hundred percent down to the letter accurate, to the best of your recollection?

Lilith: Oh. Well if you’re going to be technical about it, I might have embellished a little here and there. But that’s just about the aesthetic.

Dick: ....the aesthetic?

Lilith: Just because Destiny decided to make me its glorified secretary and insists on me reading off the minutes of each and every celestial meeting about “Should we end all existence yet, yay or nay,” that doesn’t mean I have to be boring about it.

Dick: I miss your fake mom.

235 notes · View notes

angryrabbit42 · 4 years

Text

Loyalty, Bravery, & Owls

A Harry Potter AU for @skywokers @dwsecretsanta Better late than never, Merry Christmas!

Amelia Pond received her letter to Hogwarts out of the blue. She was living a normal life in Leadworth with her best friend Rory. Nothing interesting ever happened there until the letter. Well, almost nothing interesting. Once when Amelia was eight, she spotted a man appearing out of nowhere in her back garden.

He had been in black trousers, a button-down shirt, bowtie, suspenders and on his head was a bright red fez. Amelia had laughed at the man and he’d pointed a stick in her direction. “Oblivi---hang on, you seem a bit magical. Are you...magical?”

“No. I’m ordinary.”

The man put his stick away and knelt down beside her. His brown hair was a bit messy and floppy and he had a bit of a chin but his big green eyes were friendly. “What’s your name?”

“Amelia Pond,” Amelia Pond responded and sketched a terrible curtsy. Her aunt was always going on about manners. Amelia thought it was all rubbish but not right now. Now the curtsy seemed right.

“That’s not a real name!” he barked. “Unless you’re a heroine in a fairy story?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she told him annoyed. “And it is too a real name. Friends call me Amy.”

“Well, then Amy. I bet you will be extraordinary. Keep an eye on the owls.” He tapped her nose. “The owls aren’t ordinary. Not around here anyhow. I’ve been looking for a particular one for ages.”

Amy frowned as the man stood up and searched the trees. “Owls aren’t extraordinary.”

“Why not?” he asked pulling his stick and waving it about. Green light sparkled at the tip and a few stray sparks escaped it.

“Because they’re owls,” she told him as if he were extraordinarily stupid.

The man puffed out a breath. “You’re a tough nut to crack Amelia Pond. Well,” he slapped his knees, “I’m off. The owls here are not the owl I’m hunting. That one there is a bit shifty… Anyway, I’m off. Lovely to meet you.” The man pumped her hand in a grownup’s handshake and tipped his fez to her.

“Wait,” Amy called but the man half turned in a circle and was gone.

Now Amelia Pond had a letter. She was magical. And she was going to Hogwarts. She raced next door to tell Rory. Rory was her best friend. He had been the only one who hadn’t laughed when she became obsessed with owls. He had helped her. He had even bought her a book on owls for her tenth birthday. She hoped he had a letter, so they could go to school together. He didn’t.

“Why not?” Amy demanded.

“I don’t know!” Rory shouted, crying. He knew what Hogwarts was all about. “My parents are a witch and a wizard. I should be going! Maybe I’m a squib. I’ll miss you, Amy.”

Amy glared and stomped her foot. “No, you will not be sorry Rory Williams. You will go with me.”

“How?” Rory asked.

“Can you fit in a big trunk?”

Amy let Rory out of the trunk as soon as they were safely in a cabin on the Hogwarts Express. Rory shook with nerves. “They’re going to find me, Amy. They’ll make me go home.”

Stubbornly, Amy growled, “We stick together. You’re just a late bloomer.”

“What if I’m a never bloomer? The sorting hat will know, Amy. This is dangerous. They could take away all my memories or worse, let me keep them,” he said sadly. Amy took his hand and squeezed.

A redhaired teacher slipped into the room and sat across from them. “You’re a Williams’ yeah? You look like your mom,” she asked as she flopped down on an open seat.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, stuff all that,” the teacher said, fussing with her blue robes. She also had a long scarf wrapped around her neck. “Professor Noble, magical zoology, and a bit of auror work on the side with my brother John. He’s a skinny stick with fluffy brown hair. He teaches transmogrification and sometimes juggling.”

Amy gawped. “I want to juggle.”

“Right,” Professor Noble said, eying her up. “Bet you’re another Gryffindor. Like me. Like my brother… Williams here will be a Hufflepuff, I’ll wager you two pumpkin pasties each. “Course as a teacher, I’m beyond such things.”

“What do you know about the owls?” Amy asked and Rory groaned.

Professor Noble sat up, suddenly stern. “What does a first-year know about the owls?”

Amy shrugged. “A guy appeared in my back garden once. Seemed keen on finding a particular owl. He was sort of weird with a fez.”

She barked out a laugh, “The headmaster was in your back garden? Hunting an owl? Oh, that is rich! Well, little proto-Gryffindor, there are a few rogue owls. They’re wreaking havoc on the mail. Real pain in our ar--”

“Donna!” A thin man in a pinstriped suit appeared in the doorway. “I’ve managed to light a very small part, a very inconsequential part of the train on fire. Hi kids, bet that one’s a Gryffindor, eh?” he asked, pointing to Amy. “What with the red hair and all. You a Weasley?”

“You are the worst! The literal worst. You’re a professor for heaven’s sake! Come on matchstick, let’s go save the train. See you at the sorting kids.” Professor Noble breezed out of the cabin taking her brother along by the ear.

The rest of the train ride passed in relative peace with children popping by to discuss the cakes, chocolate frogs, familiars, and a few of them looked upset when Amy mentioned wanting an owl. Rory leaned over and explained, “They’re not popular right now. The rogue ones are also spies sometimes for the other side, for the death eaters.”

“Why did you wait until now to tell me that?”

“Couldn’t risk the Ministry of Magic knowing that you knew about magic. Muggles aren’t allowed. I’m not allowed. I didn’t get a letter,” he said the last in a harsh whisper.

“No one has said anything.” Amy looked around. “Once you’re in the castle, they’ll have to let you stay.”

“I hope so.” Rory mangled his school robes. They were old and patched. He had stolen them from his father’s old school trunk along with his father’s student wand. Amy had her own wand, a shiny new one from Olivander’s.

“Can you do magic?”

Rory pulled out his dull, ancient want. “I’m not sure. Should I try?”

“No. We need to lie low.”

The rolling hills gave way to the dark underground cavern. The kids were separated into groups. Amy held tight to Rory’s hand as they climbed into a boat with a tall gangly girl with natural hair and a digital camera. “This is amazing! I got to document all of this. So much better than regular school, right?”

Amy nodded. Pale-faced, Rory also nodded. They made it across the lake with a large mountain man giving them a speech about… well, Amy didn’t listen. She’d ask Rory later. They touched down at an honest to goodness big gothic castle. Rory was shivering in terror. “They’re going to know, Amy. They’re going to know.”

Amy pulled Rory away from the crowd. The two of them hid behind a pillar. “Shut up. If you pretend you belong, and the hat says okay, you’re in, right? That’s what the kids on the train said. We get sorted and then we go to the houses. You get sorted and you’re in. They can’t take it back. So toughen up, Rory! I don’t want to do this without you! Don’t make me go to magic school alone.”

“I-I don’t want you to be alone.” He bowed his head. “I’ll try.”

Amy pulled him into a tight hug. “You’re my best friend in the whole world, no universe!”

“Ah, Amelia Pond, erm, Amy, sorry, it’s been a hot minute,” said a voice Amy only half-remembered. The children spun to face the man with his suspenders, a bright shiny purple bowtie this time and a long purple coat over a white button-down. Annoyingly, he was still wearing the fez. “And… who’s your friend?”

Rory trembled like a leaf.

“Rory Williams, his family is always in Hufflepuff,” Amy said, faking a cheerful tone.

“Hm,” the man said, peering intently at Rory. He pulled a pair of round, maroon spectacles from his pocket and stared at the air around him. “Yes, Brian’s your da, isn’t he?”

“Yessir, yes, Brian is my da.” Rory answered proudly.

The man advanced on Rory and poked him in the chest. “You tell Brian, that that dinosaur ruined my favorite tweed jacket. And I will never forget… how cool that was.” He backed off, crossing his arms and leaned against a pillar.

“You’re Headmaster Smith!” Rory exclaimed, “Professor Noble was talking about you.”

“Oh, was she? Did she call me a rude word? She always calls me rude words. We’re cousins. Ignore her. Anyhow, why aren’t you in the line to be sorted, Williams? Pond? Time to see where you belong… unless?”

“Unless?” Amy asked.

“Unless you’d like to help me find a bad owl,” he offered, green eyes boring into Rory.

Amy was terrified for Rory. What if the headmaster knew he didn’t belong? “Both of us?” she asked.

“Yeah, yes, of course, Rory would you like to hunt a bad owl? He’s gone a bit rogue. I followed him into the owlery but he skittered out into the dark forest. Could be dangerous. Monsters in the woods. Big ones. Want to see ‘em? Catch an owl?”

“Yes?” Rory’s eyes kept shifting between them. Amy grabbed his hand and held on tight.

The headmaster noticed, arching a delicate brow. “Well done!” He clapped his hands then rubbed them together. “Let’s go!”

The headmaster, who very quickly made them call him Doctor instead of Headmaster which he thought was stuffy and stupid and something you called a person over 1500. Amy let him ramble, holding tight to Rory as they followed a dirt trail down and down and down into a pitch black wood full of trees the size of skyscrapers.

“Wands up,” the Doctor announced. They scrambled to match him. “Repeat after me, ‘LUMOS.’

“Lumos!” Amy said. The tip of her wand lit up with a warm soft glow.

Rory was hesitant, staring at his wand in terror. The Doctor arched both brows. “Come along Williams. ‘Lumos.’”

“Lumos?” The wand sputtered but did not light. Rory’s face turned beet red.

“Again, more conviction,” the Doctor encouraged.

“LUMOS!” Rory shouted and his want lit up golden and bright.

The Doctor’s grin was bright and catlike. “Well done. Probably announced our presence to everything in the wood that eats us, but eh, worth it for the pretty warm light, isn’t it?”

Rory stared at his wand in wonder until he was almost left behind. The Doctor set a brisk pace. Every few meters he would make a sound like a wounded animal. Birds would echo him. Amy swept her wand back and forth. Eyes glowed in reflected light. Things shuffled in the dark. She gripped Rory’s hand until he yelped a bit.

Something swooped past them. Rory and the Doctor raised their wands. A great tawny owl strafed them. Its eyes glowed red. The Doctor shot a chartreuse beam of light out of his wand. “Immobulus!”

The owl was suspended. Amy reached out and she could touch the tail feathers. Rory hung back, trying to pull her back to safety. She could see something in its claws. The Doctor used his wand to lower the bird to the ground. He took what was in its claws and slipped it into a pocket. He whispered something and the owl shrank back down into an egg. Scooping it up, he stuffed it into a pocket and beamed at her. “Well done.”

“We didn’t do anything,” Rory said.

“You cast a perfect lighting spell,” the Doctor corrected. “It helped me find what I needed. And you did that by following a stranger into a deadly wood. If that’s not brave, I don’t know brave. C’mon, let’s catch the end of the sorting.”

Rory stepped forward. “Um, Headmaster, erm, Doctor, I can’t go to the sorting.”

“Whyever not?” he asked, eyes boring into Rory. “Don’t you want to go to Hogwarts with your friend Amelia?”

“More than anything.” he gushed and Amy squeezed his fingers. “But I didn’t get a letter.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate. I suppose I’ll take you home then. Take my hand. I’ll have to remove all your memories of this place,” he said sadly. “But, the best part of a memory wipe is that you won’t remember what you forgot. It’s a great way to not be sad.” The Doctor looked sad but also sly and it made Amy mad.

“No.”

“No?” the Doctor asked.

“No! Rory is brave! And he’s smart! And he did your spell! He’s magical! You saw that a minute ago. He shouldn’t have to go home because he didn’t get a stupid letter! What if it got lost? Then he never gets to go to magic school!? If that’s your system then it stinks! Rory is my best friend and he deserves to go to Hogwarts! And if he can’t, well you can take me home too. I don’t want to be anywhere that doesn’t think he’s good enough!” She stomped her foot.

“Okay,” the Doctor responded.

“Okay? Okay, Rory can come?” Amy demanded.

“Yeah, okay,” the Doctor agreed. “You’re right. Rory is brave and loyal, and magical. He belongs here with us. And if a letter is all that’s preventing him from getting in, then the system is stupid and wrong.”

“The system is stupid and wrong,” Rory growled.

“No it isn’t,” the Doctor argued.

“You just said…” Rory floundered.

“I said if you didn’t get a letter, but you did. You and ten other unlucky hopefuls.” He pulled the packet from his pockets. “I’ve suspected for a long time that some of our letters weren’t getting delivered. Now I have proof. The ministry will have to listen to me now, thanks in part to you two. Well done!” The Doctor pulled a letter from his pocket and offered it to Rory. “I would have let you in either way,” the Doctor said. “I’m a Hufflepuff and loyalty is our best trait and you have it to spare, Rory Williams.”

Rory beamed.

“Wait, what? I do too,” Amy growled.

“Yeah, but you’re a Gryffindor. I can smell it on you. If it weren’t for this one, you’d be a Slytherin. Now go on up to the castle and prove me right. Follow the path. Touch the fifth brick and whisper, ‘Yogurt is just stuff with bits in.’ The wall will let you directly into the hall. Go on. I’m sure we’ll all be great friends.”

He beamed and vanished.

Amy was a Gryffindor. The hat barely touched her head before she was among all the other redheads. Rory got Hufflepuff. They were in separate houses but never separate from each other.

The end.

#dwsecretsanta #amy and rory #amy pond #Harry Potter #AU #Rory Williams #eleventh doctor

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megabadbunny · 5 years

Photo

so after sketching out the doodle for this post upon the request of the lovely @chiaroscuroverse, I decided it was high time I finally got started on something I’ve been wanting to do for a while now. Thusly, I present to y’all the first installment of my sketch series New Who Companions in (Mostly) Historically-Accurate Period Costumes! :D

(clicky on the smaller images above to embiggen; clicky the read-more for costume history facts and assorted nerditude for each design!)

So long story short, I’m a big ol’ fashion history nerd, studied a good chunk of fashion history in the Western world during ye olde college days, and sometimes I like to think about what our New Who companions might have worn if they wanted to go mostly-historically-accurate in their old-world adventures. Below are some descriptions of what those costumes could have looked like, and a little bit of the historical context surrounding the ensembles. Thanks for joining me on this sartorial nerd-journey! <3

Fig. 1: Donna Noble, The Fires of Pompeii (Roman Empire, 79 AD)

So Donna’s original costume, while very pretty, is not accurate in any way; I can only imagine the designer was held back by some untold constraints (i.e. this costume is either constructed based on stylistic requests from Catherine Tate or it’s the product of executive meddling). Here, Donna wears a stola, i.e. a dress-like garment fastened with fibulae clasps and held in place with a girdle high above the waist. This garment would technically be worn by a married woman, to sort of show off her wealth and worth, but I figure Donna don’t give no shits about that, just give her the pretty dress already. She’s also wearing a palla, a shawl Roman women wore when going about their business outside. You would typically see the palla wrapped around the woman’s body to both accentuate her curves where desired, to hide her features when wanted (women might draw the hood close to the face to hide from unwanted male gazes), and to keep the material from dragging along the ground. The volume of fabric in the shawl signified a woman’s status; the more fabric, the wealthier the lady. Donna’s garments are fashioned from the finest material available, being linens imported from Egypt and silks imported from China.

Fig. 3: Bill Potts, The Eaters of Light (Scotland, c. 100 AD)

So, finding solid details on how women dressed in this time and place was fun,* but I did my best to sort of piece things together into a design that would make sense given the convergent influences and the materials (cloth/fibers, dyes, equipment) available in the area at the time. Basically, you’ve got a tunic cinched at the waist, and a woven cloak on top sporting a Pictish-type design, and simple jewelry fashioned from alloys that were commonplace at the time. Bill’s brooch and belt would definitely be met with approval from the other ladies; only peasant-women left the house without a belt.

* It was not fun. It was frustrating.

Fig. 2: Rose Tyler, The Stone Rose spinoff novel (Rome, 120 AD)

Rose’s garments and hair are intentionally sculptural in design, inspired by a series of Roman statues built around the time the story is set (I figured it was appropriate given the book’s plot!). Here she is wearing half of her Fortuna costume, on her way to save the Doctor (obv). Typically, a not-yet-married woman would only need to wear one layer (as unmarried women were, shall we say, low on the priority list in terms of Roman fashion), but here, on her way to being immortalized as the great Fortuna, an exception has been made for Rose; Marcia’s servants have draped, wrapped, and pinned some very fine material over Rose’s close-fitting tunica. Rose is also shown with a mantle, for covering her hair in public. Both Donna and Rose would have had their hair curled using a calamistrum, or an early curling iron, which varied in shape and style, but in this case likely would have actually been made of iron, and warmed over hot coals.

Fig. 4: Clara Oswald, Robot of Sherwood (England, 1190 AD)

Okay, so why did they make this look like a Halloween costume? It’s just, this episode clearly had a budget, the designer clearly did their homework, so who made what decision and where and when that led us to this? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice Halloween costume! Like, one you would have to rent instead of buy, because she is le pricey. But I’m curious to know why the designer ventured so close to the actual periodwear without actually committing to it. Like the sleeves—the flare at the elbow suggests the overdress, or bliaut, is of French design, except those sleeves ain’t near big enough, neither in terms of volume or length. Sometimes these sleeves were so long, women would have to knot them to keep them from dragging the ground. If you don’t wanna deal with big sleeves for your action heroine, that’s fine, just go with a more English design, which forewent the exaggerated trumpet-shape in favor of something more subtle. The current shape just looks weird—like, it’s halfway there, but got tired and gave up. Then you’ve got the front-lacing on the bodice; this is a nope, and only enhances the Halloween/fancy dress look. Dresses would fasten on the side or in the back; if you were upper-class, you might be looking at a modesty panel to hide the lacing in the case of the latter. The hair is another instance of halfway-there; the top half is pretty good, with its center-part and the wraparound braid, but the loose bottom portion and the salon-curls are a big no-no. Curls weren’t really in vogue in the area at the time; ladies’ hair was worn long and braided, both to keep it out of the way and to show off elaborate styles. And last but certainly not least, why the heck is Clara’s circlet shaped the way it is? It’s like they took a necklace, situated it with a bunch of slack in the chain, and stuck it to her forehead using spirit gum. Would noble ladies have worn circlets/coronets at the time? Sure! Would they have been shaped (or stuck-on???) like that? Nope! The original ensemble is full of potential but it feels like someone somewhere along the decision-making process looked at the original, better design, said, “Eh, can you modernize (read: sex) that up for me?” and then this was born. Again, it’s not horrible, just, it could have been so much more.

/rant

Fig. 5: Amy Pond, Vampires of Venice (Italy, 1580 AD)

So I realize there’s a class difference between what Amy wore in the show and what’s depicted here, but I figured the upper-class depiction made more sense, given the fashions of the other young ladies accepted into Calvieri’s school. (That being said, Amy’s original outfit still isn’t quite there; this shows an example or two of what a working-class woman would wear at the time.) On the right, Amy is wearing a velvet gown over a petticoat; even though the color and bodice-shape denote a heavy Spanish influence, the dress would have been referred to as a French gown due to its fitted shape. Were Amy to go whole-hog and give herself some true mid-sixteenth-century hair, the front would be short, and regularly wound into tight, compact little curls, while the back was kept long, for elaborate braids and updos. That’s right--the sixteenth century was technically full of mullets. Mullets everywhere.

Fig. 6: Rose Tyler, A Groatsworth of Wit spinoff comic (England, 1592)

ok but the design in the comic, just

I don’t even understand why the artist drew it this way. It doesn’t make sense, not from a costume history perspective and not even from a design/fudging-the-details-for-the-sake-of-modern-sensibilities perspective. (Also from a perspective-perspective; dude’s having some major issues figuring out how foreshortening works, but that’s neither here nor there I suppose.) It would actually be way faster to focus on what this gown does right instead of wrong. So, let’s see here: it has a lace collar, which was a thing. It has a structured, paneled bodice; also a thing. Full layered skirt, that’s good. And, that’s officially it. The rest of this design is garbage. Like, why the eff is she wearing a ruffle as some kind of low-slung belt? Is that supposed to be cartridge pleating? What century are those sleeves supposed to be from? (Do those outer sleeves even? Show up in any century to speak of, outside of my nightmares???) If you’re going to do a lace cuff at the end of the fitted sleeve, why not do it right (i.e. like the way they actually looked at the time, which was usually in a cone shape flaring out from the wrist to the elbow)? Why would the artist imagine that Rose would go to the trouble of pouring herself into this 80’s-teal monstrosity without bothering to do anything to her hair except for a ponytail? What the fuck is up with the fucking boob lace??? See, I know the artist can draw actual historically accurate outfits, because Shakespeare in this comic looks fine. His shit’s pretty accurate. But for some reason, when it came to Rose’s dress, it’s like the artist lost their goddamn mind. (Don’t even get me started on the jewelry and accents, not if there’s a loving god in this universe)

Fig. 7: Martha Jones, The Shakespeare Code (England, 1599)

So Martha has herself a lovely heavy brocade gown, trimmed in sable, accented with soft leather gloves, and topped with a cartwheel ruff round the neck. (Don’t worry; I imagine the TARDIS only carries ethically-harvested furs, like they’re grown in a lab somewhere or collected after critters have had a long and prosperous life or the hairs are vacuumed up and reconstituted by some futuristic device, etc. etc.) Elizabethan sumptuary laws dictated that folks had to dress according to social class, so depending on what your social class was, you may not have been legally permitted to wear things like silks, certain colors, certain furs, and more. Fashion was such a surging industry and indicator of wealth that, at the time, you had higher-ups selling huge swaths of land in order to have the money to dress themselves as well as possible--it was seriously that important to be fashionable. Martha’s garments indicate that she has pretty high social standing, given the materials used. Also, she wears a pretty bitchin’ hat.

Fig. 8: Yazmin Khan, The Witchfinders (England, 1612)

Yazmin’s dress sports a fashionably high-necked bodice featuring embroidered linen silk, topped with a standing collar and “wings” at the shoulders. The dark hues shown here were super-popular at the time due to a surge of obsession with melancholia in arts and literature. Yaz also wears a “Cavalier” style hat, accented with an ostrich feather. Her outfit is basically a riding-habit/hunting-habit, constructed with ease of movement in mind.

Fig. 9: Mickey Smith, Rose Tyler, and Reinette Poisson i.e. Madame de Pompadour, The Girl in the Fireplace (France, 1758)

Setting aside my many issues with this episode’s story/plot, the bugaboos I have with Reinette’s original costume design in the show are relatively minor, and I imagine can mostly be explained-away with stuff like “this is what the BBC already had on hand” and “goddamn that’s pretty.” Both pretty salient points! But I do think it’s interesting that the designer(s) went the way they did--Madame de Pompadour was actually famously not in favor of glittering gems (actually, she supposedly donated palace jewels to the French treasury more than once to help out during times of war); she tended to prefer fairly simple pearls as embellishment, instead. She also wasn’t really into big hair; obviously the styles shown here on Ms. Myles aren’t exactly Marie-Antoinette-big, but they’re definitely more voluminous and modernized than the styles the real-life MdP typically sported, which usually consisted of a slight pomp and fairly close-knit curls framing the face. (It’s also interesting that Moffat wrote her with such a heavy innuendo for sex/romance, because rumor had it she didn��t really actually enjoy things in the bedroom all that much, instead preferring to pull political strings, promote the arts, patronize motherfucking Voltaire!!!, help design architecture!!!, and keep the king constantly entertained and distracted so he literally didn’t royally fuck everything up. She was a very busy lady! Also she like. Paid contractors and artists on time? Instead of dicking them over with “credit” bullshit like other wealthy patrons??? Sorry she was just WAY more awesome than the show gave her credit for!) Anyhoo, long story short, Rose and MdP are shown here wearing gowns and hairstyles that are heavily inspired by those worn by the real-life MdP wore in some of her many many portraits.

Thanks for tuning in to my giant costume nerdfest; see you next time for part 2! <3 <3 <3

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queercapwriting · 5 years

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Yaz Works Out and The Doctor is a Gay Mess (Thasmin)

She discovered the room when she was looking for the swimming pool that Ryan and Graham apparently kept falling into.

It was in disuse, an ancient looking stationary bicycle in the corner actively accumulating dust. Yaz had never seen dust anywhere else in the TARDIS, and when the thought crossed her mind, the TARDIS seemed to hum with laughter.

She would have hesitated about using the room -- which, aside from the bike in the corner, with the echoes of someone called Mel hovering around it, was in pristine condition -- except that the Doctor had said that anything the TARDIS saw fit to show her was hers to explore, to use.

So far, she’d discovered wardrobes that made department stores cower in comparison, a library that made Belle’s in Beauty and the Beast look like a mere bookshelf, and a choice of bedrooms ranging from eighteenth century canopy beds to a stainless steel looking parody of Earth industrial aesthetic.

Now, discovering a fitness center near the heart of the TARDIS -- just when she’d been thinking that she’d like nothing more than to work off some stress (hence searching for the pool Ryan and Graham kept running into) -- felt like an open invitation from the TARDIS.

She opened one of the storage closets to find, to her relief, leggings, trainers, and a tank that fit her perfectly -- like the TARDIS knew that if she left the room to find the wardrobe or her bedroom for clothes, she would never find this place again.

An hour later, she was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her hands wrapped and expertly pounding away at the heavy bag.

The TARDIS chimed off three minute rounds with thirty second rests, and Yaz revelled in the exhaustion.

She didn’t notice that anyone was standing in the doorway, slack-jawed, until she finished a round with an spinning hook kick that sent her into something like a superhero landing.

“Yasmin Khan,” was the only thing the Doctor managed to eek out, and Yaz trembled even as she grabbed at her knees and panted.

The Doctor, who abhorred violence (except when it’s on her terms), who flinched whenever she seemed to remember that Yaz’s job involved carrying a taser, who made the more-than-occasional -- and, according to Yaz, completely accurate (which is exactly why she joined the force to begin with, to change things) -- side comment about the whole policing institution of Earth being unevolved… watching her punch and kick with ruthless efficiency, her training combined with the years of mixed martial arts after growing up getting beaten up for her name, her skin tone, her everything.

The Doctor, standing in the doorway, watching the way Yaz copes -- the coping mechanism she keeps quiet, underneath her kindness to children and sharp wit and even sharper empathy with her friends…

Surely, the Doctor couldn’t possibly like what she saw.

Surely, the Doctor couldn’t respect her anymore, like her anymore, have… whatever feelings Yaz thought she might have, sometimes, when she thought Yaz wasn’t watching the trajectory of her eyes to Yaz’s lips…

Surely, the Doctor would hate recognizing a version of her own demons in the soul of one of her companions, her fam, who were supposed to keep her in check, keep her light, keep her from committing genocide in the name of peace.

Her sweat had been making her warm just moments before, but under the Doctor’s gaze, she shivered.

“Doctor,” she panted, tentatively, nervously. Hoping that her voice didn’t sound different, when she was fresh off of tearing into a heavy bag like it was that white guy who’d threatened her sister last year, like it was her superior officers who kept her on traffic patrol because they didn’t think she deserved or was capable of more, like it was the resigned disappointment in her mother’s voice when she’d told her she was bi all those years ago.

“You found the rec center,” the Doctor said, still standing in the doorway like she was unsure if she was welcome to come in.

Like a puppy hoping to be invited, but prepared to be rejected.

Yaz’s heart shuddered.

“I was looking for that pool Ryan and Graham keep running into.”

“Literally.”

They shared a chuckle that ended with the Doctor’s eyes sweeping up and down Yaz’s body, subtle, quick.

Yaz was suddenly very aware of the way she’d sweated through her tank top, the way the definition in her arms popped; the curves made clear by the fit of these leggings.

“You know,” the Doctor ventured, seemingly emboldened by their shared laughter, “that bike’s mine. Well, used to be. I was a bit of an older man, once -- well, a lot of times, really -- and one of my friends, Mel, her name was, she would give me this disgusting juice to drink, make me ride that bike. Was very into her juices and bike rides, Mel was.”

A familiar look of nostalgia crossed the Doctor’s face as she meandered over toward the old bike in the corner, and Yaz watched her lazily as she caught her breath, her heart starting to calm in more than one way.

Maybe the Doctor didn’t hate her for the barely controlled rage she’d seen. Maybe she wouldn’t be disgusted by the expert way she’d learned to channel that rage into the potential for easy violence.

“Is it alright? That I’m using this room? I don’t want to intrude on old memories or -- “

“No, no, I’m glad it’s being put to good use. Running, that’s what this fam is always doing. Love the running. Or, the kickboxing, maybe.”

Another subtle eye sweep.

Yaz’s knees weakened, and it had nothing to do with her workout.

“I thought you might not approve,” she ventured, her voice soft and scared.

The Doctor cocked her head and scrunched up her nose, suddenly laser-focusing her attention on Yaz, and only Yaz.

A lesser woman would have cowered.

Yaz just gulped and fought to keep the Doctor’s gaze.

“You don’t need my approval for anything, Yasmin Khan. Except perhaps the food on alien planets, because you really never know with some of those smoothies. Not the kinds of smoothies you’d expect on Earth, let me tell you.”

“Doctor, you’re drifting.”

They both smiled.

“Point is, you don’t need my approval. Not for this, not for anything. But even if you did… you have it. Just because I don’t keep fit doesn’t mean you can’t.”

“Oh, you keep fit enough,” Yaz said before she had the chance to think about it.

The Doctor gulped, this time. Not quite as hard as she did when Yaz told her she wasn’t going to leave her side, but hard enough.

“Do I? You think so?” The Doctor flared out her arms, her coat flapping slightly like a cape, and Yaz couldn’t help but laugh.

“Definitely, Doctor. But really, though. It’s not… I’m not… it’s violent, really, isn’t it? Rule one is no weapons, but here you are, saying it’s okay that my body’s crafted like a weapon itself -- “

“All our bodies are weapons, Yaz. Our minds, our thoughts. All of it can be weaponized. But you… you use it to save the world, Yasmin Khan. On and off the TARDIS.”

“Yeah?”

A beat of silence and eye contact and weak knees from both women.

“Yes.”

Yaz smiled, suddenly, and grabbed at a towel the TARDIS had stashed for her.

“Come on, then,” she wiped her face then tossed it over her shoulders. She thought she saw the Doctor gulp again, but it might just be her ego.

It was probably definitely her ego.

Right?

“Let’s go find the boys and see if we can weaponize our minds to destroy them at Clue.”

“The professor in the library with the wrench!” The Doctor proclaimed quite seriously. “It’s happened to me before.”

Yaz laughed and tossed a casual arm over the Doctor’s shoulders.

“Tell me the story?” she asked as they set off through the TARDIS together, the old girl humming in excited approval.

“Well. I’ve told you about Donna. My friend, Donna Noble. But I haven’t told you about Agatha Christie yet, have I?”

“Seriously?”

“And a giant wasp.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me everything.”

“Always.”

#thasmin #the doctor is a gay disaster #thasmin angst #thasmin fluff #thasmin fic #yes it's both angsty and fluffy because like

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takaraphoenix · 5 years

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Okay so I’m still high-key hung up on this, so here are some better alternatives they could have done instead of what they did:

1.) Just... skip the last two minutes. Fight your raging ship-boner for a hot-second and pull an actual Donna Noble where she can’t be allowed to remember. It’d still be fucked up but at least not as fucked up as “Uh so like for a year we totally did nothing and wasted everyone’s time even though it’d have been fine to talk to you I guess LOL?”, because I am seriously supposed to believe that Luke, Simon, Jace, Isabelle - that no one even tried to approach her for a year and then it... didn’t even affect her to remember?

2.) Have her pull out a knife instead of her stele and stab Jonathan to death. It’s super effective, she likes stabbing and you could have just skipped the entire dumb drama of her forgetting but oh no two minutes/a year later she gets to remember again! Have her stab him and just not play god anymore, because HONESTLY what the Angel asked of her was really not asking too much. Just. Don’t. Play. God. And Clary couldn’t go without it for a whole hour, huh.

3.) Have her become a mundie but... don’t... make her forget? That wasn’t even part of the deal Jocelyn laid out. They would be taking her powers. Yeah sure. Maryse and Luke and Raphael and Magnus all did relatively well having their Shadow World essence changed/removed. Let her live as a mundie and still interact with everyone.

4.) At the very least explain how it works. Show us more of what happened to her. Did she, what? Not remember anything at all including her name, so that was why she is fine with everyone she loves being gone? Or did the Angel give her convenient memories of... what? Simon, Luke, Jocelyn, Dot, all being dead? And make sure she never visits her other best friend Maureen who might have nudged her into the right direction, or seek out Rebecca and Elaine? Where did she live? Since the Fray house was uh kinda trashed two months ago? What exactly were the rules here? What even happened? Have her walk into the night and leave it on an open note like that, okay, but the whole one year later time-skip that implies that she was actually relatively fine with not remembering and even thriving as an artist because, uh, I dunno, she went back to art school since she had nothing else left? If you have to pull shit like this, at least flesh it out and explain it so it makes half-way sense.

5.) ...Literally just don’t do that at all. Leave Jocelyn’s message and that entire dumbass memory-wipe outta the story, have them attend the wedding and show them be disgustingly cute in the one year time-skip and just not add “additional drama” that literally only lasts for five minutes? You could have used that plotline had there been another season to explore it. Not with five minutes left. Just... resist the urge to add more unnecessary drama to the show and skip.

#Clary Fray #Shadowhunters #Shadowhunters Spoilers

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thorne93 · 5 years

Text

12 Days of Christmas (Cuddling For Warmth - Remy Lebeau)

Prompt: December 22 - Cuddling for Warmth - Remy Lebeau

Word Count: 2725

Warnings: language… angst

Notes: For the Marvelous Christmas Challenge @until-theend-oftheline @like-a-bag-of-potatoes…. Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @carryonmyswansong (thank you both, very much).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mansion was alive with wonder, excitement, and children’s excited cries. As a student teacher at the mansion, you promised Professor X to stay during the holidays to help keep a handle on the kids who couldn’t go home. So far though, they were only having fun. Chasing each other around the grounds, ice skating on the pond, decorating each room. Storm had a class earlier this week for everyone to create their own ornaments or garland.

With only two days to go until Christmas, you were rather excited yourself. All the teachers had put their names in for Secret Santa. The students would get each get one gift. Charles put some back from each tuition to cover a gift of decent size. And each year, the children were asked to give a Christmas list. From that list, the teachers picked one gift.

This way, it ensured everyone got something under the tree, and it was usually a pretty magical time. This year, you’d pulled Scott’s name for Secret Santa. All you had to do was ask Jean to tell you what he really wanted. It was a piece of cake. He wanted a new bike helmet.

As for your secret Santa, you had no idea who was getting your gift. That was the whole point, but typically, every year, you had a hunch. This year, not so much. Which was absolutely okay.

It was getting a little late, around 10:00 pm. You could hear the kids screaming and running in the halls. Charles usually wouldn’t allow this behavior, but classes were out for the holidays, and it was only two days to Christmas, so he let the kids do as they please so long as no one got hurt. As for you, you were in pajamas in your bed, reading. In fact, you were about to go to sleep shortly, until a knock came at your door, then it cracked open.

“Y/N? You awake?” The drawl was unmistakable.

“Yeah, what’s up?” you asked, sitting up in the bed. You tried your best to look extra presentable for the charming Cajun. To say you had a soft spot for Remy would be putting it lightly. Being a southern belle yourself, you had instantly fallen for Mr. LeBeau, his accent, his charm, his mutation, and his ultimate compassion.

Remy was an instructor, but he didn’t teach classes. He was almost like a tutor. He was more there as a stand in for kids needing to understand their power or working on how to control it. He didn’t lecture, or teach History or English or Literature. He didn’t have a study plan. He was just a hands on instructor, who wanted to help the kids when they needed it. He was available before classes, during lunch, and after classes. His ability and extent of patience had made you swoon long ago.

“Saw your light was still on. Didn’t know if you might be up for gettin’ hot chocolate downstairs or maybe goin’ down to watch a Christmas movie with me and the kids?”

Just as you were about to contemplate the offers, the lights suddenly went out. Shrieks and cries went all throughout the mansion. Suddenly, Charles voice invaded everyone’s mind.

“Everyone remain calm, the storm must’ve knocked the power out. Please stay in the room you are in right now while Hank and I look at the fuse box.”

Remy and you peered at each other for a moment. “Well, you heard the man,” he stated as he stepped into your room, a cheeky grin on his face before he shut the door.

“And just what gives you the right to look yourself inside a lady’s bedroom at night?” you demanded jokingly.

“Professor said so. He does not want us out roamin’ the halls.” With that, he grabbed the chair from your desk and pulled it to sit at the end of your bed. “So who did you get for secret santa?”

“I am not tellin’ you that,” you chastised.

“Why? Is it moi?” he asked, teasing you. “That’s the only reason you wouldn’t tell me.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but no, it isn’t. The word ‘secret’ is in the name, Remy. I’m not gonna tell you who I got.”

“You take things too seriously,” he accused with a grin.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe you don’t take things seriously enough.”

“Now that’s just mean,” he feigned, putting his hand over his chest.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and letting out a laugh. “Oh please, I couldn’t insult you if I tried. Your ego is impenetrable.”

With that, he smiled and straightened in his chair. “Why, thank you for noticin’. I work on it a lot.”

“Speaking of egos,” you began, “how is Reggie?”

Reggie was a young mutant, fifteen, who had a peculiar mutation that was a little hard to get ahold of. Rather close to that of Storm’s, Remy’s, or even Scott or Alex’s powers. Yet, for the last five years he kept assuring his parents he had it under control -- that was, until he took out a neighbor’s house one day. Thankfully, the neighbors weren’t home and no one was hurt. Reggie’s parents were loving, supportive, and concerned about they ordeal. They didn’t get mad, but they did put their foot down about him coming to the school. They trusted Reggie with his powers until this summer when they came by with him. They said they wanted him to learn how to properly handle them, because they were worried he might hurt himself or someone else and not mean it.

Remy, was his tutor. He saw him twice a week after his daily classes. Being a teenager, and rebellious, he hated the idea of needing any special attention.

“Ah, he’s still a little spitfire, but I think I’m gettin’ through to him. When I started to show him that having the ultimate, precision and control over his powers was pretty cool, he started to receive my message better. How’s your classes goin’?” he wondered, putting his boot on the foot of your bed, his hands behind his head, and leaning back.

“Rather splendid,” you commented. You did have a study plan though, one that Jean and Charles oversaw. They reviewed your itinerary every week and it had to be approved, and it always was. Your area lied in defense against mutation attacks and computer information systems. It was two separate classes, but you taught every day of the week. “Yeah, yeah. Julie has finally picked up a lot better combat. Aaron helped Jason fix a hard drive this week, so I was very proud of them.”

“That’s great to hear,” he complimented genuinely. “How come you didn’t go home for the holidays?”

“The kids need me here… Well, Charles and Hank need me here,” you corrected with a smile and slight laugh. “My family understands that this is important to me, and encouraged me to be here for the kids, and Charles.”

“Very kind of you, and your family.”

“What about you, cajun? Why aren’t you down South?” you wondered.

He huffed out some air. “Oh, same as you, I s’pose. Thought the staff might need a little help with some of the youngins stickin’ around.”

“Always a noble cause, eh, Remy?” you slightly teased with a coy smile. You peered at him with a sad smile. “You never have found your parents, have you?”

He shook his head, a pensive, but sorrow filled smile on his face. You could tell he was trying to hide the pain, disguise it as charm and wit, but not all that deep down you knew Remy was missing a family. He knew some thieves and friends down in New Orleans, certainly someone he could spend a holiday with. Somehow, you felt, that he’d found a new family though, here, and maybe that’s why he stayed during the holidays.

“Nah, but I figure maybe it’s all for the best. They don’t want me... Been too long, and I am… me.”

You frowned. “Remy, how could they not want you? You’re spectacular.”

“I grew up with thieves and cheats, Y/N,” he retorted with disdain. “I’m not exactly a model citizen.”

“You can’t help what the LeBeau clan did to you…”

“No, but I got these eyes.. That’s why they abandon me, mon cher,” he informed with a slight sadness in his voice.

“Then they are the most stupid people in this world,” you stated with confidence. “Anyone willing to give you up has to be the biggest fool I’ve ever met.”

A gentle smile tugged at his handsome lips before he let himself fall from leaning back in the chair. “It’s gettin’ cold as hell out here. Move over, I’m comin’ in,” he said before he stood up and took his boots off.

It was clear he was changing the subject, but for the past thirty minutes, the temperature had dropped to icy due to the lack of power and heat. You scooted over to the left on your bed and before you knew it, Remy had burrowed himself in the blankets beside you. This, wasn’t unusual. He was your closest friend at the mansion and sometimes you two wound up sleeping on the couch together, or snuggling up to watch a movie in your room on Sunday afternoons, usually slipping into a nap.

“Better?” you inquired once you settled down beside him.

“At least I ain’t g’ttn frostbite,” he retorted, putting his hands on his face and rubbing them backwards. “When is the damn power g’n be back on?”

Shaking your head, you answered, “No idea.”

The two of you lied in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he spoke again, curiosity in his voice. “Did ah eva tell you that I was engaged once b’fore?”

You frowned, turning just your head to face him. “What? No? When? How?” You couldn’t help the little green eyed monster that creeped up inside you.

He kept his face aimed at your high, dark ceiling, sighing. “Long… long ago. It was to a girl named Bella Donna. It was actually an arranged marriage.”

“Wow. Really? What was the gain?”

“Settlin’ a feud between two of the bands of criminals.” He let out a huff of air. “But her brother was against it, and he challenged me to a duel.”

A gasped escaped without your permission. The thought of Remy doing something so… dangerous, made your heart still in your chest.

“Well, so what happened?” you urged when he didn’t continue, your face turned back towards the ceiling.

“After the wedding…when Julien had challenged me, I agreed. Bein’ raised as ah was, it wasn’t taken lightly. So I agreed to his terms. Only when we got there, the bastard was such a terrible shot…” He stopped, trying to collect his thoughts, you supposed. “His shot breezed past my shoulder and by pure reflex, I shot back, hit him square in the chest.”

You frowned. You knew Gambit had a terribly sad upbringing, another thing that had made you fall easily in love with him. Someone born from so much sorrow brought so much joy into the world. He was so… good, and pure, his dark past was in no way a reflection of him now.

“That’s so sad… How… how did your wife take it?”

“Uh, actually, I didn’t really know. They banished me from N’awlins for a long time. Til Bella Donna needed my help with somethin’. Professor let me take the X-Men back down to help her, but when we all got to an astral plane… I don’ know, somethan happened and Bella Donna died... “

A full second passed before you grabbed his hand under the blankets. All you wanted to do with the action was comfort him, show your support.

“I’m so sorry that happened. Do you miss her?”

“I did. But it turns out she’s alive, livin’ down in N’awlins.”

This took you aback. Gambit had a wife, but he didn’t… miss her? Sure it was arranged but…

“So… you don’t miss her?”

He let out a breath. “Well… I did, at first. We sort of grew up together. She was my first love. But after her family banished me, and I sort of got out on my own, well, there wasn’t much to miss. Then when I found out she was alive, I just wanted her to be happy. I got no desire to be with her.”

“Are you still married to her?”

“No, no. We took care of that years ago. Cut ties. Now, we don’t talk, but it’s alright. She’s got her life, I got mine.”

A blip of silence fell over you two. “I’m so sorry all of that happened to you, Remy,” you suddenly offered, your voice sad, laced with sincerity. You wanted nothing more than to hug him and make any pain or guilt go away.

“Did you really mean what you said, about the… uh... about my parents not wantin’ me?” he asked, not seeming to want to address his past directly.

You turned your head to face him, keeping your head settled on the pillow. “Of course. Remy, I think you’re wonderful. It’s a privilege to know you.”

“You’re not just sayin’ that, are you?”

“No, no. There’s a reason you’re my best friend. I like you. You’re a good person. In fact, I’m rather jealous of this Bella Donna lady. Anyone who gets to be your wife is one hell of a lucky woman.”

Now, it was his turn to face you.

“You really mean that? You think… you think it’s lucky to be my betrothed?”

“I think she hit the jackpot if she got you. Arranged or otherwise.”

He stared at you for just a few moments more, making your cheeks heat to a million degrees.

“Uh, Remy, what’re you staring at?” you wondered.

“Does it bother you?”

“Only because I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinkin’ you are the sweetest, most kind, most compassionate, most powerful, person I’ve ever met. I’m thinkin’ you make me laugh when I don’t wanna. You never let my past represent me. You look past all my flaws. I’m thinkin’ you’re just about damned perfect, Y/N and I’d like nothin’ more than to kiss you right now.”

“Then what are you waitin’ for?” you asked in a soft voice and before you could blink, he let go of your hand to wrap you in a tight embrace. Fingers danced through your hair with skill, making you shiver from his touch. His face slowly got closer to yours, as you helped close the gap from your side as well. Before you knew it, you two finally connected, igniting your body like a Christmas tree. His lips were surprisingly softer than you expected, but firm and plump. Surprising you, his hand slid down your side, around your waist, where he pulled you closer to him, pressing you against his body. The sensation made you yearn to run your hands into his long hair, hold him close, stay in his arms forever.

Suddenly, the power came back on, lights flooded your room, your bedside clock turned on, your TV regained power, and the mystique that had bewitched the room, was now slowly receding.

The two of you broke apart and stared at each other, unsure what to say. His arm was still around your waist, and your arm was still on his back, but neither of you spoke.

“Wow… That was…” You breathed, slightly laughing.

“Yeah… That… uh… was….” he agreed.

The next thing was Charles back in everyone’s head. “Alright everyone, it’s late. Go to bed. You’re free to leave the rooms you’re in.”

The two of you came back out of the informative thought, peering at one another.

“Do… you wanna leave?” you tentatively asked him, wondering where you two stood now.

“Not at all, unless you want me to go?” he questioned, slightly worried about another rejection.

You brought your hand up, your fingertips stroking his face. “I never want you to go anywhere, Remy. I want you right here, in my arms. So long as you’ll have me.”

An adoring smile touched his face as he pulled you closer again. “I’ll never want anything, or anyone but you, Y/F/N.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Christmas Tag List:

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#cuddling for warmth with remy lebeau #remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau fic #gambit x reader #gambit fic #gambit #remy lebeau

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whitetrashphilosopher-blog · 5 years

Text

Threats Are How I Express Love

@ginger-tea-on-the-tardis sent in Nine and Donna. This prompt is... Fantastic!

Donna walked outside and closed the door perhaps a bit harder than necessary, but she didn't slam it, despite what her mother might be yelling after her. She looked up and down the street. It was a few minutes before Donna had told the Doctor to arrive to pick her up, so he might not be there yet, but... There. She rolled her eyes and gave an annoyed huff. Why the bloody hell would he park all the way at the other end of the street? Did he think it was funny to make her walk that far? Well she was going to give that skinny little Time Lord a piece of her mind. She unlocked the door and threw it open. "Oi! This your idea of a prank?"

A man squatting behind the control console fiddling with something shot up up and gawked at her. Donna felt a chill run through her. She didn't recognize the man, and the Doctor wouldn't let just anybody onto his TARDIS. He certainly wouldn't let some stranger tinker with it. "Who are you," he asked. "How did you get into my TARDIS?"

"YOUR TARDIS?! This is the Doctor's TARDIS buddy and you had better have a good reason for being in here!"

He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her an amused look. "Okay, what's this then? A scam? An invasion?" He pulled out something that looked similar to the Doctor's sonic screwdriver, but not quite identical. He pointed at her.

"You keep your devices to yourself pervert, you hear me?! I won't have you trying to see through my clothes!"

He rolled his eyes as he checked the Sonic. "This says you're human."

"Because I am human you idiot! You'll find a lot of us on Planet Earth actually. We sort of run the joint."

"Oh I know you lot like to think so," he said with an amused grin.

"Out with it then! What sort of alien are you? Here to conquer the human race? Because that's real cliche. The Doctor is going to show up any second and throw you off his ship. And if you've done something to him I know people at UNIT that I can call here at the drop of a hat to apprehend you!" Despite her brave front she was starting to worry this man HAD done something to the Doctor. She hoped it was something that could be reversed once she found and rescued him.

"Listen, Miss, if I were some sort of powerful alien strong enough to break into my TARDIS and do away with-"

"It's NOT your TARDIS! I don't know what you did to the Doctor buddy, but you made a serious mistake messing with him! The Doctor has friends! Do you understand me?! He's got lots of friends that would do almost anything to protect him! So if you value your hide I suggest you tell me where you stashed him!"

The intruder's jovial manner faded into a grim stoney expression. "See now I know you're lying, because I don't have any friends, not anymore."

"Probably because you're the sort of prat that breaks into other people's ships and starts trying to hijack the controls. You won't get it to work by the way. The Doctor is a genius, and he has all sorts of security protocols to prevent someone highjacking his ship."

"When did I start doing that?"

Donna scowled. She'd had enough of this invader. "I'm calling Dr. Martha Jones at UNIT. She'll be here with a whole platoon soon. So if you want me to tell her to go easy on you I suggest you tell me what you've done with the Doctor." She held up the phone like it was a knife, making her threat clear.

The intruder grinned, but it was a cold humorless smile. "If I were what you think I am, someone capable of overpowering the Doctor, would it really be such a good idea to threaten me?"

She felt a chill overcome her. "So are you going to kill me," she asked.

He looked shocked by the suggestion. "Kill you? Why would I want to kill you? What's your name?"

Donna just glared at him. "Okay, I'll go first. Hello, I'm the Doctor." He stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

She scoffed. "I know what the Doctor looks like you moron."

"Don't be so sure. I've worn many faces. I think you might be looking for a different Doctor, in a different TARDIS. Why don't you try peaking outside, see if you can spot one?"

She rolled her eyes. "You are loony, do you realize th-" The last syllable died on her tongue as she peeked outside and saw the TARDIS parked right in front of her house, with the Doctor leaned against the side reading a book. "But- How- What-" She spun around to face the intruder. He was smiling at her again. This time it felt a bit more real. "Doctor?"

"Hello."

"Huh. But... So you're a future- No you'd have recognized me- past- No you'd have known me already when we first met. I don't-"

"Causality can be confusing. I'll probably forget about you between now and when I next meet you."

"Oh I'm not forgetable pal."

He laughed. "I believe you. But if I'm supposed to meet you here I might be starting to get worried. So off you trot."

Donna didn't take kindly to such a casual dismissal. But she got the sense she shouldn't linger much longer. The Doctor might come looking for her, and who knew what might arise from him meeting his past self. "Fine. Bye." She started to leave.

"Wait."

She paused and turned around. "What," she snapped.

"Was that true? That thing you said about me having friends that would do almost anything for me, was that true?" For a moment the cynical facade dropped, and this Doctor looked so vulnerable. She pitied him. This lonely man dressed in black, hiding away from the world, from the knowledge of his own isolation. "Several of them, and they love you to bits."

He started to smile. "Even you?"

"Even me you great daft loon. Now off with you. We can't have you meeting yourself." She left the TARDIS and headed for, well, the same TARDIS, but just up the road. She snatched his book out of the Doctor's hand on her way inside just to show him who was boss.

"Donna Noble you like me," he teased with a big much too pleased with himself grin as he followed her inside.

"So you did remember?"

"Implanted a temporary memory block, just expired. You liiiiike me."

"Oh shut up. Let's get out of here." She tried to hold in her smile, but after a valient struggle she gave in. She supposed she did like him a bit.

#doctor who #ninth doctor #donna noble #tenth doctor #DW #fanfic

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