#three different doctors

[yesokayiknow]

frequent questions i keep getting on the bigeneration au(s):

-why don't ten (point five) and eleven tear each other apart/beat each other to death with hammers/eat each other

eleventh hour starts like normal, since they can't exactly leave while the tardis is redecorating, and then rory's like but how can they be here?? how can the raggedy doctors be real?? they were a game?? you made me dress up like the funny one all the time?? and ten's like sorry what. the funny one? and rory's like yeah uh [points at eleven] the funny one and the uh. um. [looks at ten] the uh. hot one. and That's How It Starts. every single interaction is an opportunity to show eleven up. does he want to beat eleven to death after they've spent longer than an hour together yes of course but good god the spite of it all. the DRAMA. the whole of leadworth knows him as The Hot Doctor. the ponds and clara ADORE ten. they love him so much. like sure he's a massive dick but compared to eleven he's the nicest guy in the world. he's incredibly suave and incredibly smooth and is capable of dressing like a normal person and literally everyone keeps commenting on it. sometimes he goes off on his own just bc the ponds throw him a party when he comes back. eleven keeps trying to get him killed and he just keeps slipping out of danger and it drives eleven up the fucking wall

-why does twelve allow eleven to travel with them

he simply does not notice him. just constant white noise. he's not clara and therefore he's insignificant. the three of them keep going on trips and then clara and twelve leave before he gets back to the tardis and it's not even on purpose they just literally forgot he was there. one time they accidentally leave him in victorian london while visiting the paternoster gang and he gets a boat to new york and ends up spending ~50 years with the ponds and when he finally gets to modern day london a century later clara's like huh you look different did you change your coat. and then hell bent happens and twelve finally throws eleven out (eleven didn't get wiped and twelve isn't gonna live with that reminder) and eleven retaliates by showing up to every single one of his lectures. the only reason he isn't dead is because missy would definitely find out about it and twelve can't deal with how incredibly smug she'd be

[n3arell-art]

He can hear the sound of the drums, the never ending drums

[quietwingsinthesky]

“least favorite” isn’t anywhere close to bad. it just shows how damn hard the competition is going, but we’re talking about gold medals all around for each actor i’ve seen portray the doctor so far.

[doctorwhozzat]

*offers the Toymaker a vintage marionette of a princess that i found in my old toybox*

toymaker: do you wish to pawn this? Or trade it out for something else?

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

The thing about leela and Narvin is that if you enter the gallifrey fandom before you listening to it (or even just in the first few seasons) you’ll see that they are one of the biggest ships, but like at first it doesn’t make that much sense because they don’t like each other (and I mean like actually don’t like each other, not whatever the fuck the master and the doctor have going on) and narvin sucks, but then you keep listening and narvin starts to suck less even if they still don’t really like each other. And then suddenly you get to season four and their arguing is starting to sound more like flirting then actual arguing and you start to get what everyone is talking about

[trollprincess]

ten characters, ten fandoms, ten tags, borrowing from @annadream (yes, yes, I’m choosing more than ten characters and ten tags, shut up)

[lucrezianoin]

Well, so my third attempt this year to find out what my chronic pain is ended up in another failure

Last year I completely gave up after too many random diagnosis and no solution. I'm trying again:

- gynecologist asked me if I wanted the pill if I had pain during my period (the pain is constant it just gets more intense during my period and my period is much more heavy as well since last year), the rest of the cancer test were clear

- GP says maybe it's stomach (?? Pain is under my ribs so I guess it could be), she gives me anti acid to try. The anti acid makes me feel so sick I stop at day six.

- I go back for blood tests, all clear. The GP is like okay bye, and I'm like ?? I still have pain?? Like I am missing so many working days. So she gives me ibuprofen (now keep in mind she thought it was my stomach before, and now she's giving me something that is usually not kind on the stomach). She tells me take it for two weeks every time you have pain (which would be every day for me)

And I'm like.. okay... And then she says something like "unfortunately it's impossible to know what it is, maybe it's your depression"

Now, I'm not depressed. I've not been diagnosed with depression. I take ADHD medications. This is the third time she calls them "anti depressants" and she tells me I have depression. I don't??

So I decided to go to a private clinic for an ultrasound, on my own. I don't understand why Doctors in Germany are like this. I've lived in three different countries and this is the only one where I've seen this level of incompetence, rudeness and disregard. If you're not immediately dying then it's "depression" (even if you are not diagnosed with it and don't have it).

[airyairyaucontraire]

Within months of Craven’s introduction of Banks, Craven claimed Banks had been hospitalized after dropping a KitchenAid mixer on her foot, according to both an anonymous former business associate of Craven's I spoke to, and my own past conversations with Craven. Several hours later, her leg was allegedly amputated, and nearly 48 hours after the first operation, her other leg was amputated as well. The anonymous source mentioned above claims they then contacted West Suburban Medical Center in Oak Park, Illinois where Banks was said to be recovering according to the source who saw this information on social media. When they contacted the hospital to send flowers, the hospital said there was no patient by that name. This resulted in the source seeking a third-party opinion due to fears of Craven allegedly misrepresenting himself and taking advantage of clients through sympathy.

A Prominent Accessibility Advocate Worked With Studios and Inspired Change. But She Never Actually Existed. - IGN

This reminds me of “The Strange Case of the Electronic Lover,” which details a very similar fraud committed by a man on CompuServe’s CB Simulator in the early 1980s.  Like, this kind of thing is pretty much as old as the social use of the Internet.

And of course the HIV+ high school AU/cannibal mermaid Hamilton fanfiction incident.

[corallapis]

okay. given that missy says re: her brooch, "got it in the olden days on gallifrey. the doctor gave it to me when my daughter—"

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 24 / 31 * OUT IN THE DESERT 」

January—March 1943

From the moment he’d been visited at the university by Oppenheimer with Groves in tow, the latter a looming, intimidating presence towering over him in his uniform compared to the amicable and even friendly disposition of Oppenheimer, he’d felt the cold bite of the Sword of Damocles pressed against his neck, digging deeper and deeper with each day he’d been left in purgatory, waiting.

He feared he’d lose his head before ever hearing the official outcome of his new employment.

When one of his colleagues had approached him about a week and a half after their departure, informing him that he’d received a call from the FBI asking some questions about him, Emmett’s heart stopped then and there and he was absolutely positive he’d seen the moment his head was severed from his neck, rolling down the hallway.

Twenty long seconds later, when his senses had returned to him, he learned that the sensation was just dizziness and he was still firmly intact.

Three weeks later, the hell had ended. To say his official acceptance onto the project was a weight off his shoulders would be an understatement. Emmett breathed a long sigh of relief, nearly giddy with the excitement that he’d come through the process relatively unscathed; his frayed nerves were the only real casualty of his stint in purgatory.

Why the outcome should have been anything other than this, he couldn’t say, but that didn’t stop his mind, already having latched onto the mystery and thrilling scientific intrigue that Oppenheimer had offered, from conjuring up the what-if possibilities while unseen hands manipulated the course of his life. He’d never been in legal trouble, no criminal record, his father was an incredibly prominent and well-respected, if feared and disliked, member of the community, and his academic achievements had been exceptional.

But now it was official and the part that should have been the most daunting brought him the most joy. Two months was more than enough time to wrap up his affairs in California nicely.

His courses at the university would be discontinued and his students would be disseminated out into the other professors’ courses. The small home he’d been provided here would go back to the university and whatever he deemed unimportant to take with him to New Mexico would be discarded. The head of the department wished him well, and after a brief exchange steeped in rumour and hearsay, he’d left, returning home to pack up the last of his things.

How fascinating that an entire life could be stuffed in a couple travel bags.

—

When Emmett returns to Hill Valley, tugging the last twenty-three years of his life up the pathway to the mansion he hadn’t seen in almost five years, it is his mother’s joyful cries that greet him, her hands that all but pull him through the door, and her voice that fills the living room as she sits down, harmonising with the song of time played by his favourite Grandfather Clock.

Emmett, the doctor. Emmett, the scientist. Emmett, her son, doing his part for his country, whatever that meant, because it was secret, secret, secret—all so very secret all he could say was “I can’t talk about it but I have to travel to get there”—and while she looked ten years younger, radiant with motherly pride, his father scoffed and harrumphed, making his opinion known in no uncertain terms.

You would’ve done better for the war as a soldier, not some damned-fool scientist.

‘But at least maybe you’ll have a chance to be useful. Do something good.’

This time, his father’s barbs do not sting. They strike at him from all angles, jabbing at his skin but never piercing, and he lets them fall to the ground at his feet, unwilling to have this argument again, as they did for so many long nights in his youth. With the prospect of unforetold scientific progress right there at his fingertips, he could find it in himself to forgive his father without a fight. He didn’t understand. He wouldn’t let him spoil this.

Science—science was the future. And they would see.

His departure comes as quick as his arrival, his mother asking when he thinks he’ll be back in California.

“Soon,” he says, unable to give her any definite number, pulling at the hope this project is supposed to bring. “When we’ve won the war.”

Alone, he arranges to have himself and his entire life brought to San Francisco, where he’ll meet the train that carries him to the future.

—

San Francisco to Santa Fe.

Emmett spends most of his time in comfortable silence, watching the touches of humanity upon the land slowly and slowly being stripped away. Pavement gives way to dirt and grass and unsullied earth and the towering buildings of the cities sprout leaves and stretch up to the heavens, basking in the afternoon sunlight.

He remembers the itinerary—cryptic instructions written on a packet of papers shoved into his hands and the explicit instructions to allow nobody else to see the contents of this folder. Emmett doesn’t think he could forget it if he tries, burning a hole in the inner pocket of his overcoat, searing his chest even through his clothes.

More often than not, he tries to imagine the stage that will hold what is supposed to be the greatest scientific advancements of the last three centuries—what we’ll be doing here will be the culmination of the last three centuries of physics. Don’t you want to be a part of that?—I want to take on this challenge—only to imagine something even more fantastical than its predecessor every time he tries.

A fully functioning laboratory and city do not just spring up overnight in the middle of the desert, but Oppenheimer had said it would be ready in time, and Emmett found himself almost immediately assured by that, half-convinced that Nature itself would bend to that man’s charm.

Perhaps, Emmett thinks, a flutter in his stomach equal parts dread and excitement, it just might.

What else would require some of the greatest scientific minds to gather in one remote location under the strictest security imaginable?

The possibilities lull him into a dream-filled sleep.

—

They’re waiting for him there, just as they said. Two large uniformed escorts that Emmett easily has several inches on tower over him, usher him into an ordinary old car—grey, unassuming, rather mundane, actually, but when discretion is key—and expertly fit an entire life into the boot.

As if they’ve done this before.

Clement and Rosario, Lieutenant-Commander and Lieutenant, respectively, as he’s come to learn from the intermittent conversation, were the ones assigned to bring him to the site, get him through security, and make sure everything went off without a hitch.

Emmett watches, his face all but pressed against the window in the back as the landscape overrides the thoughts about this project that have been playing on a loop since he first alighted the train back in California. The desert is beautiful, nothing like the views in the city, and maybe he views the wide open area through the tinted lenses of lingering boyish romanticism for such an environment, but there is a rough, rugged beauty to it all in reality that Emmett is pleased to know for himself is not just a result of the films.

He must have said that out loud, because the younger of the two—or the one Emmett assumes is younger, given the softness still present on his face that looks out of place with the gun strapped to his hip—Rosario, says, “Yeah, isn’t it? Beautiful place out here. Shame we went and ruined it.” Before Emmett can ask what that means, he just says, “You’ll see.”

He does see, almost immediately.

This complex—‘Welcome home, Doc,’ Clement jokes in that gruff voice of his—looks more like a prison dropped in the most remote location they could think of, where they’ll work and torture them until they get what they want or die trying. That fence must be ten feet high, topped with barbed wire, and Emmett wonders how many scientists they know of that are athletic enough to even attempt scaling a wall like that.

They preferred to scale theoretical hurdles, not physical.

The cold feeling of dread slithers up his spine. He dismisses it the moment they reach the security checkpoint, telling himself he’s being foolish—the military is involved; everything with them is cloak-and-dagger.

Processing takes an eternity, and Emmett feels a rush of dizziness he can’t quite explain when a thick set of papers are pressed into his hand, followed by a white identification badge that has immortalised his awkwardness in a frozen snapshot of time.

“Housing information’s on the first page. You’ll get used to the layout. Keep that badge with you at all times, Doctor Brown.”

[master-missysversion]

I know what saxteen means but I think we've made a critical error in using the 'teen' suffix, considering every version and potential version of the doctor between 13-19 has that suffix

[everlastiingiimmortals]

I was thinking again about Ratio's speech to Screwllum and how incensed he became, the sheer emotion in his voice when he speaks of the tumbles and triumphs of human life, and something about that clicked to me. And I think it's something I mentioned before, but it just never hit me so hard.

Ratio finds the human existence so beautiful.

He is so passionate about life, about the belief that it is because the human life is so small and fleeting that people should push and push and strive to their absolute limit, because that is what it means to be human, to be alive.

"Even a life marked by failure is a life worth living."

These are his words directly from the 1.6 ending cutscene. Would someone who only hated stupid, ignorant, factually incorrect people say that? I don't think so. And it is here that I realized: what Ratio hates isn't ignorance in the sense of not knowing something. Ignorance isn't the root cause of his dread.

It's a symptom.

It is a symptom of an attitude of complacency, of stagnation. Because it is as Screwllum says: everyone is ignorant of one thing or another; nobody knows everything, not even Nous. What Ratio is trying to pinpoint and change is that attitude, that quality of being ignorant as a trait, not a state. He's trying to kindle the drive for self-improvement, because to embrace oneself, complete with one's flaws and acknowledging them but striving to improve on them, that is so fucking beautiful. That is the meaning of life.

And I wonder if, really, he uses the word "ignorance" on purpose because it's just... an easier goal to communicate to others, especially with his methods of sparking change. I wonder if he sets himself up to be this "boss" to be challenged, and his classes the battle, because he takes such an antagonistic approach to every aspect of a person that can be criticized that people are compelled to challenge him. In this sense, he's similar to a certain Otto Apocalypse (and possibly his alts as well).

We even see in the space station that he's not specifically attacking ignorance with the phase flame incident, but rather the researchers' complacency and dependence on Herta. What he does is label it under "ignorance" because it is a more inflammatory word, and for those who walk the Path of Erudition, it is an insult. Ignorance is the antonym to erudition. And I guess that his decision to use this approach is because all his life he's been the scholarly type, been surrounded by scholarly types, and it is because of professors that challenged him and wanted to see him push his limits that got him this far. How much of his life might have been wasted if Professor Rond hadn't advocated for him in his youth? If he were to say he wanted to challenge complacency and preach self-sufficiency directly, he'd be a therapist. He would rather die; he could not stand being a therapist, his own sanity would not be able to handle it. What better way to spark change than through the profession he is most familiar with, the one that encouraged him, the one that he knows best? What better way than to use his passion for philosophy and the sciences to spark others'?

Call him a narcissist all you want, it's true, but also nobody would work this hard if they did not believe that their end goal wasn't absolutely worth it. No one would care so much if they didn't find the object of their care precious enough to cultivate. Nobody would make so many fucking statues if they didn't love and celebrate the human body because sculpting requires so much goddamn effort, especially with masonry.

What Ratio pursues is not necessarily the eradication of ignorance, but rather the advocacy of self-improvement, because the human existence is only its most beautiful when passion has a direction and the momentum to propel itself to its limit regardless of whatever stands in its way. That is his self-evident, unchanging truth.

[doolallymagpie]

haven’t watched any Leela serials in a while but she’s in the top 5 most autistic companions, easily

which makes Four trying to teach her to blend in so funny, he’s one of the most autistic Doctor Whos, who is already the most autistic Time Lord

his ass is not qualified

[innocet]

calling 14 your babygirl is not a replacement for the very real need dr who has for more female doctors

[heartual]

had such a good experience with surgery today i can’t even fully explain

[sisterdivinium]

I hadn't sat down to rewatch s2 in a while and now that I'm doing it (for pure entertainment purposes but also for ref for a fic I'm not even working on yet as I have been run down by the VtM doctor superion AU after writing the gen VtM WN AU ahem) I'm kind of amazed at how the feelings are all still there. The excitement, the laughter, the hatred I have for Vincent...

Ah, this show. There is nothing like it.