susan heard about the 70s porn colin meme and couldn’t let grandfather have all the fun

anonymous asked:

Four/Romana II, 4

we are friends and my child’s first word was your name and im jealous but also kind of endeared


The Doctor was surprised when Romana didn’t immediately start quizzing him.

“Aren’t you going to ask what’s in the basket?” he asked, indicating the object he had settled just under the edge of the console.

“Don’t need to.  I know the customs of this planet.”

“How?  You’ve never been to Trelinda VI.”

Romana sighed heavily and shook her head.

“I can read, Doctor.”

She stepped ‘round K9 and crouched beside the basket for a moment.

“I don’t see why they give away their smallest loomlings, though.  And why to a bellowing lummox who only foiled the Arch-Graken by tripping him with a scarf and sending him into the lava pits.”

“I’m a great hero, Romana!  They want me to raise this little orphaned child to be an amazing, world-saving entity like myself.“

With a toss of her head, Romana stood and strolled out of the control room.


“What are you doing?”

The Doctor glanced up and grinned; in the high-chair, his new child began to howl.

“I was just feeding little Archelaeus.”

“Oh.  Well, isn’t - don’t they put machines for that in the TARDIS?  I know later models have…”

“Romana, only exploratory models are outfitted with mini-looms and the attendant equipment.  Surely you know that.”

“Of course I do.  Still, to directly feed the little - thing…”

Looking askance at the child, Romana edged closer and dared to ruffle his hair with her fingertips.

“Still,” she said, “he seems not entirely a bother.”

Archelaeus stopped his crying and smiled toothlessly up at her.


“Come on, Archie.  Say ‘Doctor!’  Say ‘Doctor!’“

Archelaeus looked confusedly up at the Doctor, then went back to smacking two small metal bricks together.  The Doctor grumbled and flopped over onto his back on the rug, staring at the child sort of upside-down.

“Why won’t you talk?” the Time Lord asked.  Archie grinned and slammed his bricks on either side of the Doctor’s nose.

The Doctor howled, bolting upright. 


Romana came rushing in.  On the floor at the Doctor’s feet, Archelaeus was giggling.

“Oh, Doctor, what have you done?”

“It wasn’t me!  It was Archie!  He…”

As the Doctor pointed toward his tiny charge, the child scrambled to his feet and toddled over to Romana.

“’MANA!” he shouted.

“Now,” the Time Lady said, stooping to pick the child up, “what have we done to make the Doctor shout?”

“Womana,” Archie burbled, burying his face against her hair.

“Did - did he just say your dabe?” the Doctor asked, one hand clasped to his aching, bloodied nose.

“Yes, I suppose he did,” Romana smiled, then spun on her heel and started to carry Archelaeus out of the little nursery.

In the doorway, she glance back.

“Better get to the infirmary.  Your nose could be broken.”

The Doctor grumbled.


Crunching himself as far down as possible into his chair, the Doctor glared across the parlour.  Romana was sitting quite happily with Archelaeus on her lap, reading to him from a book of Gallifreyan nursery stories.  The child seemed absolutely delighted.

The Doctor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“I think it’s time someone was in their cot,” Romana said as the little one yawned several times in rapid succession.

“Stay, Womana?” Archelaeus asked.

“I’ll stay with you a while, yes.”

As they left, the Doctor turned around and knelt on his chair, watching them.  Archelaeus made some buzzy little noise, and Romana laughed, then imitated the sound.  They were acting positively like a parent and child, and the Doctor wanted to be upset.  After all, hadn’t he taken the child in?  Hadn’t he fed him, bathed him, done all the little things?  Hadn’t he been a parent before, and a pretty good one?

Somehow, though, he couldn’t find it in his hearts to stay upset.  Certainly he would have preferred that Archelaeus spoke his name, called out for him when frightened or in need.  At the same time, there was something sweet about seeing Romana, who even in this new incarnation still had shreds of her old by-the-book nature about her, soften up and be friendly with the child.

The Doctor smiled, chin resting on the back of his chair.  Perhaps this odd little family life wouldn’t be so bad after all.


‘So here she is,’ he said, stroking the TARDIS’s battered frame. ‘Grumpy, grouchy, unreliable and with a mind entirely her own. But ours again!’ The Wheel of Ice by Stephen Baxter

human-nxture asked:

Six/Peri, 10

“i’m so sorry that my child pointed out how your shirt- actually nevermind i agree, that shirt is horrendous”





“What, Paulie?”

Peri glanced down at her son, who was wedging one finger into his left ear and pointing ahead of them with the other hand.

“Why does that man’s shirt look like Gramma’s couch?  It looks silly!”

If it hadn’t been for the fact that the man, who was quite close by, turned to look at them in that instant, Peri would have laughed.  As it was, she giggled slightly as the object of Paul’s derision glowered at them.

“I - I’m really,” she began, but something brought on another small fit of giggling.  It must have been the way the man stood, hands on his hips in a way that reminded Peri of all the times her teachers used to get upset when she and her friends would be passing notes.

“I’ll have you know,” the man said, glancing between Peri and her son, “that this shirt is very much the fashion in - well, a lot of places.”

“I’m so - I’m sorry Paulie said - oh, but that shirt is awful!”

Peri had no idea why she felt so comfortable telling the man exactly what she thought.  It just felt right.

“Oh, Peri.  Never did have quite the eye for fashion.”

“How - how do you know my name?”

The man’s expression changed suddenly.  Now he looked unutterably sad.  Turning quickly, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his loud, striped trousers and strode off toward the entrance that would take him into the rest of the mall.  Peri watched him go, reaching down to clutch one of Paul’s hands as she did.

“Mommy, do we know him?”

“No, Paulie, I - I don’t think we do.”

Near the entrance, the man looked back at them for a brief moment, his face still a mask of grief.  A girl with violently red hair rushed up to him, seemed to track his gaze back toward them, and in a moment the man’s expression had brightened (a bit falsely, Peri thought) as he took her arm and steered her out into the mall.