but the doctor is mourning

What I’m Watching 4/9-4/15

So, this is a little late, but it was a busy week. Here are my picks for last week!

Gifted

Gifted (starring Chris Evans, Octavia Spencer and the adorable McKenna Grace) came to theaters this past Friday. It stars Evans who is raising his niece (Grace), who is a kid genius. She’s been home schooled by him, until she is 6 and then heads off to elementary school. Immediately her teacher sees her skills, and suggests she goes to an elite school for the gifted, but Evans stands by that he wants her to have a full childhood, rather than living in a lab. A heart-breaking trial scene ensues over whether she should stay with her uncle or live with her grandmother, who wants to use her brain to solve complicated math problems that could win her the noble prize.

It was a really cute movie. Chris Evans and McKenna Grace have fantastic chemistry and I love how she climbs all over him, like he is a jungle gym. (See photo above.) I think she’ll be one to watch in the future. It might not have gotten the best reviews, but if you’re looking for a wholesome, feel good movie about a “father-daughter” relationship, then this movie is for you. I’d buy it on DVD when it eventually comes out.

Doctor Who FINALLY returned this Saturday! (It felt like it was FOREVER ago that we had a brand new episode, when in reality it was Christmas.) I really enjoyed “The Pilot,” and meeting our new companion Bill. I love that we’ve gone back to the new who roots, by picking someone who is living an ordinary life in hopes of something extraordinary. She’s not an “impossible girl,” but someone who serves chips in the cafeteria and sits in on the Doctor’s class. (How interesting would it be to have him as a professor!) I like that she has watched Sci-Fi shows, which made it easier for her to understand the concepts and her background involving her mother and that mysterious photo with the Doctor in the background should be interesting to learn about. Loved when she said the classic “ Bigger on the inside” line! Can’t wait for next Saturday.

My favorite medical drama since ER. I had a few of these collecting on my DVR and still haven’t caught up, but the last episode that left a BIG impact on me was Monday Mourning. After one of their own, Dr. Wheeler, commits suicide, the Chicago Med staff must come together and do their job, despite how they might be feeling. While Dr. Wheeler wasn’t extremely close with anyone in particular, including us, I really liked the way each character dealt with his death. They were all different, but it made sense for their character. It was so well done, and I still can’t stop thinking about it. (I watched it twice.) This episode also made me a huge Rheese fan (Dr. Rhodes and Dr. Reese), who had a very special moment as he told her how to overcome how she was feeling. These two need to have more scenes together in the future.

As you can tell by my article ‘Grimm: The End,’ I FINALLY watched the series finale of Grimm last week. In retrospective I did enjoy it. I just wish that there was more. I loved the epilogue with Kelly and Diana, but wish we could have seen the triplets. I’m also still confused by what exactly happened when they came out of the mirror the second time, but I’ll try not thinking too deep into it.

That’s it for this week (well last). Keep an eye out for what else I’m watching!!

Bring Me Back, Part One

Requested by Multiple Flubbles

There will be three parts to this fic. This part is mostly just angst. Yeah.

Suggested song for this fic: “Oblivion” by M83

“No!” you screamed, pounding your fists against the glass that separated you from the Doctor. “No! Doctor! Doctor!”

This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t be happening. But your chest screamed with the reality of it, with the pain, because you knew what was coming. If this happened (and it was happening, alright, sure as the sun rises), then you would never see the Doctor again. That realization burned your insides like fire and you screamed, rage and fear bundled into something primal and horrifying that pushed you beyond what was human. You pounded your fists so hard that skin broke and blood smeared the glass and you didn’t even feel it.

“Doctor!”

He was fighting, screaming your name.

“Bring her back!” he howled at the Cybermen who had ahold of him. “Bring her back! Don’t you dare take her, don’t you dare! Back off! Bring her back to me!”

Why couldn’t you break the glass? Why couldn’t you just break the damned glass?

You shrieked as you felt metal hands grab at you. They were pulling you, pulling you away from the Doctor, and fear jolted so harshly through you that it physically hurt.

“Doctor!” you cried out as you fought against them. “Doctor! Doctor!”

His head snapped in your direction. When his eyes found yours, the scream on your lips fluttered away, soft and soundless like a moth. There was fear in his eyes, terrible fear like you had never seen from him before, but worse than that was despair. You weren’t even gone yet, and he was in despair, which meant… which meant… that he already believed that you were lost. That your chances were less than even the Doctor would take, which meant that there was no chance at all.

In that moment, you should have been afraid for your life, or your existence, or something. Death by Cybermen was an awful thing no matter how they offed you. There were only so many options, and none of them were easy ways to go. But your heart dropped to your stomach and your stomach shot to your throat and your throat constricted and your ribs slid tightly into your gut like an iron corset, not because you knew that you were about to die a horrible death, but because you would never see the Doctor again.

You had promised. You had promised that you would never leave him. You had promised that to him. You had sacrificed your human life, your normalcy or any semblance thereof, because you loved him. Because he needed someone to stay.

He’s going to be alone. The thought stabbed into your mind like an icicle, cold and sharp and bright. He’s going to be alone.

There was the sharp sensation of pointed metal at the back of your neck, the echo of the Doctor’s wrathful screaming in your ears, and then there was only darkness.

And there was only darkness.

And there was only darkness.

And there was only darkness.

And then the Doctor’s eyes opened.

He blinked rapidly, trying to find his bearings in the dark. The smell of laundry detergent filled his nose, stinging his ‘superior’ olfactory senses with its sharp chemical tang. Soft fabric slid along his skin, the surface under him had just enough give and spring to bounce on if he so pleased, and something that reeked of laundry detergent cradled his head. A pillow.

Bed. He was in bed. And if the burning pain in his throat was any indicator, he had been screaming.

The Doctor reached a hand out for you, searching the landscape of Kamalzan cotton sheets for the comforting warmth of your body. You didn’t sleep together, not by default, but whenever he had bad dreams, you came to him (or, occasionally, he came to you, asking if he could sleep in your bed like a scared child, and you always said yes and managed not to let him feel humiliated about it). He hadn’t woken up screaming, but his raw throat proved that he had been screaming at some point in the night, which meant you had probably come in awhile ago and settled him down without waking him up.

His wandering hand found only cold, twisted sheets.

“Sweetheart?” the Doctor rasped. Fear crackled through his gut and he scrabbled for the switch on the lamplight. He clicked it on and the yellow bulb nearly blinded him, but it was immediately apparent that you weren’t in the room.

Had you left to sleep in your own bed? Had you only stayed long enough to calm him down before leaving? That didn’t seen right. You never did that. But the sheets on the other side of the bed were cold and there was no indent in the mattress or the pillows to suggest that a second person had been in the bed that night. Which meant… well, it didn’t mean anything other than that you hadn’t gotten into the bed, which was highly unusual, but maybe… maybe you had foreseen his raw throat and went to get him some tea or something. Yes, you had done that before while he slept before. You wouldn’t have left him alone if you knew he would wake up, would you? Of course not. There was no reason for you to think this would happen. If he had slept through his own screaming, you probably hadn’t imagined that he would wake up while you went to make tea.

Feeling relieved and a little bit foolish, the Doctor relaxed against his pillows and tried not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of laundry detergent. He definitely wouldn’t be getting this kind again. It reeked of chemicals and overpowered every other smell in the room (including the faint scent of you that always clung to his bed after one of these nightmare-plagued-Time-Lord-support-system-sleep-over nights, and he was rather fond of that scent). He would just have to get some of that organic stuff from Orion.

The Doctor shifted onto his side. He felt sad, for some reason. It was probably because of the nightmare. It was all fuzzy in his mind now, but he recalled the sensation of despair. It must have been an especially bad one, to leave him with echo emotions.

Fifteen minutes passed. You hadn’t returned.

Twenty minutes.

Half an hour.

The Doctor stopped convincing himself to wait and slipped out of bed. He grabbed the blue robe hanging on the bedpost and pulled it on, synching the tie tightly around his middle. In this skinny body, everything felt too big for him (with the exception of his suit, which happened to be half a size too small). Oddly enough, the Doctor couldn’t find his slippers, so he was left bare-footed as he padded out of his room and down the hall.

Other than the deep hum of the TARDIS, everything was silent. If you were in the kitchen, there would be some noise. That only left your room, because you couldn’t be anywhere else, not at night.

The Doctor opened the dark wood door to your room and found it empty. Not just empty, though. The air was wrong, the smell was wrong. Even the bed was wrong - he could tell by the way the folds fell that you had dashed them aside and jumped out of bed, which was the norm whenever alarms went off in the TARDIS, but they had also been folded back. He blinked at the odd sight. You didn’t do that. It was the middle of the night. If you had heard him screaming, you wouldn’t have bothered to halfway straighten-out rumpled covers. And there was a tank top on the floor, one he recognized that you slept in… slippers were ignored under the bed, flannel bottoms were tossed across the far side of the bed. You had changed in a hurry. Why in the world would you have changed?

Something sharp and red prickled at the back of the Doctor’s mind. Oh. Oh, no, no, no.

The Doctor carefully pulled back the covers and slipped into your bed as gently as he could, trying not to disturb anything. Your bed smelled like you, but the smell was stale. Old, faded. You hadn’t slept in this bed for weeks.

The memories slipped back into his mind like fog over the ground, and the Doctor let out a quiet sob as the pain and loneliness of your absence reasserted themselves in his hearts. Everything hurt. Everything hurt so badly and he had tried to make himself forget, but he couldn’t. He clutched at your pillows and breathed in your scent as well as he could manage despite the tears that were closing his throat. He whimpered your name, calling for you, hoping against all hope that you would suddenly appear, or wake him up from this nightmare.

You had been dead for weeks. The Doctor was alone in the TARDIS.


“I hate you!” the Doctor spat at the console.

The TARDIS had, in her own mourning for you, allowed the Doctor to wallow in his hurt for a whole month. No more. She was kicking him out to adventure, to save someone, to something. To do anything, as long as it stopped him from trying to block his own memories and failing and breaking down into a sobbing mess over and over and over again.

“I hate you!” he snapped again. “Rassilon, I hate you, you meddling, heartless machine! You knew it wasn’t safe! You knew it wasn’t safe and you landed anyway and now she’s gone because of you!”

Silence answered the Doctor. He spat out more insults, including a litany of cusses from various language that insulted the TARDIS’s parentage, sexual orientation, offspring, physical aesthetics, personal character, and mother specifically. And then the Doctor broke down.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, dropping to his knees and pressing his forehead to the side of the console. "I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t… I just can’t do this.“

The TARDIS decided to let him stay inside for just one more day.

The Doctor stared at the Cybermen in front of him and felt nothing.

"You took her,” he said, dangerously calm. He almost sounded bored. “You took my girl from me. That girl, do you know her name? I bet not. She was gonna be my wife. I’ve got the ring and everything. I was just waiting for the right moment to ask her.”

The Cybermen stared blankly, just as all Cybermen stared. They didn’t seem to care.

“I was gonna be happy again,” he stressed to them. “I was gonna be a better man. For her. But you took that from me, so now… what’ve I got to be a better man for? Y'know, I always try to save you poor gits, or to at least kill you nicely. Put you out of your misery. I know you’d be miserable, if you had feelings. But you took my girl. That means I don’t care anymore.”

He surged forward. The Cybermen that had stood so perfectly still all reacted at once, but one of them was down before it even got the chance to move. And then the second one was down just as fast.

And so it went.

“You alright, mate?”

The Doctor glanced up at the young man standing above him. Very young, mid-twenties by the look of him. Odd chin, floppy hair, bowtie. A pretty boy, definitely, with a strange smile, like he knew some brilliant secret that he was just dying to tell but still wouldn’t because it was too good to spoil.

 "I’m fine,“ the Doctor answered.

"Nah,” said the young man, flopping down to sit next to him on the park bench. Flop was a very good word for him. He was floppy. And sparky-eyed. "You’re not. I can tell. Go on, spill.“

The Doctor glared, adding a hint of the Oncoming Storm into the look. The man didn't seem one bit bothered. And then, because sometimes the Doctor just could tell, he thought that you might have liked this man. Maybe you would have liked him a wee bit too much, and that- that- oh, that would have made him jealous before, but now it just seemed sort of funny.

With a sigh, the Doctor sat back. "It’s a girl, alright? Just a girl.”

“Oh, it’s never just a girl,” the man corrected. Wise words from a puppy, the Doctor thought. "So, what? Breakup? Were you a rubbish date? Ooh, even better: you’re completely in love and she doesn’t even know you exist.“

"I lost her.”

“Oh, darn. Breakup is the worst option outta those.”

“No, she-” The Doctor scrubbed a palm down his face, angry with himself for talking to a stranger about this. But he just couldn’t stop, could he? "She died. There was an accident.“

"Ah.” The young man nodded sagely. “I see.”

“Do you?”

“My wife’s had some health problems,” the man admitted, shrugging in a way that made him seem uncomfortable with the broadness of his own shoulders. “We thought that she wasn’t gonna live half as long as me. We had to search all over the world for something to tack on a few more years to her life expectancy.”

Despite himself, the Doctor was curious. “Yeah? And how’s she doing now?”

“Funny story, actually. We went back to my hometown, in Ireland, and whaddaya know! They’ve got what she needs. She’s got full life expectancy now. She might even outlive me.”

The young man seemed so genuinely pleased with this that the Doctor couldn’t help smiling, just a little bit.

“Good for the both of you,” the Doctor said, softer and kinder than he had been before.

“Yeah,” the young man agreed. And then, unexpectedly, he patted the Doctor on the shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile. “Hey now, don’t you give up.  I’ll betcha that something good is just around the corner.”

“Maybe,” the Doctor said, and he didn’t believe it at all.

For some reason, the young man laughed.

So Loo Brealey just posted this on twitter and I wanted to share it here:

You know I’m here for BBC Sherlock crit. (More than here for it, let’s be honest). But seriously why attack the actress who plays one of the characters for the writing of said character? Molly Hooper is the beacon of light on that show. She’s probably the most likeable character in the whole damn thing.

It’s not (imo) the fact she loves Sherlock which makes her weak. I think that implication is antifeminist in itself. Why does loving someone make a woman weak? It shouldn’t. It doesn’t. 

Molly has a similar problem that Sansa Stark had (and sort of still has) on GOT where because she’s ‘normal’ and displays more traditionally feminine character traits people have an issue with that. But why? Where is the issue with that? Feminist media doesn’t mean writing women who behave in more traditionally masculine ways. That’s ridiculous. Some people say Mary is a more feminist character than Molly because she shoots people. Rubbish mate. Let women be women. Give them the chance to be whoever they please. Molly isn’t weak because she won’t beat a person up. A female character with a gun does not necessarily = strong female character (something I wish more male writers would get). 

My issue with Molly is not Molly herself, or Loo Brealey’s portrayal of her, which has been consistently really good and true and lovely in a show which is often pretty dark and has got kind of uncomfortable in later seasons. It’s the way Molly is used. 

Keep reading

my favourite thing about this christmas special is how many clara oswald fans are raging about river song lol

Bring Me Back, Part Two: Entanglement

WARNING: Depression (duh), character death (it won’t be a surprise), very mild language (nothing worse than I’ve written before), anorexia and self-harm (mentioned in the narrative but not directly seen), and Jack Harkness (definitely seen). This story might just be a little hard for some people to chew, so read cautiously. Also, just to help you understand the gravity, this is based off of real events in which I was basically this fic’s Jack Harkness.

Also, if I had actual drawing skills instead of just being a maker of tribal-looking paisley patterns, this would be the fic I would draw art for. SO MANY SAD DRAWINGS.

This MIGHT end up being four parts instead of three. I dunno. Shame on me.

More angst, but also some fluff at the end. But mostly angst. Original concept requested by @pianovata


In 1935, physicist Erwin Schrödinger created a theoretical experiment on a paradox of quantum physics, specifically quantum superposition. The experiment theorized a scenario in which a cat is held inside a steel box with a radioactive atom. Whether the cat lived or died was completely dependent upon whether the atom decayed (emitting deadly radiation) or remained stable. Since there is a fifty-fifty chance of either, as long as the cat remains in the box and therefore unobserved by another party, the cat is theoretically both alive and dead at the same time, because neither option can be confirmed or denied until the box is opened. Schrödinger termed this kind of experiment as Verschränkung, which means entanglement.


The Doctor screamed.

He went out. No, he really went out. Not to scream at the skies (well, that hadn’t been the plan), or to exact revenge upon Cybermen (been there, done that). He just went out. Exploring. The Doctor, as usual, but with just a bit more alone-ness than there ought to have been. But that was okay. He needed the alone, because he couldn’t handle togetherness quite yet. Not without you. He thought of going to see Donna and Wilf, but he dismissed the thought when he realized that they would ask where you were. Then they would be mourning too, not to mention that they would both fuss over him horribly. He didn’t want to be fussed over.

He ended up on a planet known for its long nights and amazing night skies. He had been there before, plenty of times, to see the famous stars that danced on blue ink. He had never brought you here, but he had planned to. It was where he wanted to propose to you.

A cliff-side in the middle of fall season was the Doctor’s preferred observation spot. Still warm enough to be comfortable but cold enough that you would have snuggled up against him for warmth. That’s what you would have done. He knew you would have. And you would have liked this place. And you would have liked stargazing with him, and you would have listened while he babbled random trivia about the alien constellations, and whether or not you understood it, you still would have made him feel like the cleverest man in the universe.

Would you have stayed awake all night? He had to wonder, even as he nestled into the soft grass that smelled like pine so that he could gaze up at the glittering sky. Or would you have fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder? And if that had happened, would he have stayed there with you until morning so that you could wake under the planet’s vibrant sunrises, or would he have carried you back to the TARDIS and tucked you in?

A tear rolled down the side of the Doctor’s face and got caught in his sideburn, tickling wetly against his skin. He harshly pawed at his face to rid himself of the sticky tear-track, but even as he did, his eyes stung with fresh tears that burned and welled up and out so that they could streak hotly against his skin.

His lip was wobbling, he realized. His whole face was folding, squinting, trying to rid itself of tears that burned his eyes and were too hot for his skin. The stars above him blurred and he turned onto his side and curled into the fetal position, pressing his face into his sleeves.

“Stop it!” he gasped harshly on a sobbing exhale, humiliated as the tears poured freely and made his sleeves damp. “Stop it, damn you!”

The TARDIS sang a mourning song and the Doctor screamed.

Out, said the TARDIS, out, out, out, out.

“No,” snapped the Doctor, scratching at the stubble on his chin that had grown unchecked in his negligence. “No.”

Out.

The Doctor threaded his fingers through his limp, un-groomed hair. His tie was askew, falling off, his clothes were rumpled and unwashed, and there was still blood on his jacket from where you had gotten a nasty cut on the forehead and he had used his jacket to stop the bleeding. He hadn’t meant to let himself fall so completely to pieces, but it had just been so easy to forget, especially without you there to remind him. He hadn’t eaten since… before. Before when, he wasn’t sure, but it had been long enough that the hunger pains had stopped and he no longer felt it. The empty space in his gut was gone, too. It had tightened up and swallowed itself. The idea of eating made him fell a bit sick.

Eat.

“No, you stupid machine.”

He had been doing better. He really had. But his most recent breakdown had left him worse off than before.

Out!

The TARDIS turned on every single alarm that she had until the Doctor was forced to leave in order to escape the noise.

Her name was River Song. When she saw him, she gasped, pressing her hand to her painted mouth as her eyes filled with shine. It was pity and it was terrible and the Doctor hated it. He knew he looked a fright. He had shaved, yes, and gotten his suit into halfway-decent shape, but the shadows under his eyes were dark, like he had taken a few hits, and his skin was pasty and clinging and that the hollows of his cheeks and the spaces between his ribs had drawn in, making him look like he ought to be on a mortician’s slab.

She hugged him, held him close, and he struggled away. He was not for her. He was for you. She didn’t get to hold him that way. And it hurt. Her hands traveled down his sides, stinging the red lines where he had dug his nails into his skin and dragged them across the dipping planes of his sunken ribcage.

That wasn’t the worst part of their meeting.

Professor Song whispered a name in his ear, and it was your name. The secret one, the Gallifreyan one that he had given to you when he decided that he wanted to marry you, the one that he whispered in your ear like a prayer, the one that he taught you how to say so that one day you would have an easier time pronouncing his true name. (Because he wanted to tell you, he wanted, he wanted, he wanted.) She shouldn’t have said that name, it wasn’t for her, and hearing it on the lips of someone other than you or himself made his empty gut twist painfully.

How do you know that name?" He was on the edge of the Oncoming Storm, right on the edge, waiting to fall and become rage and fury incarnate. It would be so easy. He was already falling. "How the hell do you know that name?!”

She smirked at him even as she prepared for her own death (and she was just like that, wasn’t she, that brokenhearted creature who prodded at the empty spaces of his body and just knew?). The death that should have been his. The death that he wanted. She was taking it like she expected no less. "Shouldn’t I know it?“

"That was the name I gave her,” he snarled, torn between hate and despair as she stole a secret that was his but then took it to her early grave of sacrifice in his place. "No one else knows that name, no one!“

She knows it,“ River said.

"She’s dead, damn you!”

There was a great deal of fuss after that. Handcuffs were definitely involved. He insisted, screamed, that time could be rewritten, that this could all be undone, that she could live if only she would just listen to him, but she didn’t listen.

“River, NO!”

“Goodbye, sweetie. You’ll see me again.”

She didn’t listen.

The Doctor didn’t like interventions. They were usually helpful to him, in the end, but while they happened, they could be very unpleasant and certainly unwelcome. Especially when they came from people who cared more about him than they cared about his privacy.

And if there was one thing Jack Harkness didn’t give a darn about, it was privacy.

“You’re a mess,” Jack said. He was in Captain Mode, the Doctor noticed with a painful prickle of irritation running up and down his spine and around his torso. “What the hell, Doc?”

“Get off my TARDIS,” the Doctor muttered, pulling away.

“Your TARDIS called me,” Jack said, tone not allowing for any measure of nonsense. The Doctor scowled, but Jack frowned right back at him. “I thought you were in trouble. I didn’t think you’d be this.”

The Doctor swayed on his feet for a moment, empty and cut under his suit. He felt scabs break and weep thin creases of blood into his skin, following rusty trails of blood that had run and dried in the days before. He reeked of blood, and it made his head spin and he flung himself forward, knocking into Jack’s side.

Jack took the blow and didn’t fall. The Doctor had no strength, no weight, and his whole body falling against Jack was nothing to the captain. The Doctor bit and scratched uselessly, trembling fists batting at Jack, while Jack wrapped one arm around the Doctor’s skinny middle and hauled.

“I’m not your punching bag,” Jack grunted, slapping the Doctor’s fists away as he dragged the smaller man out of the console room. “Just because you’re angry. Where’s your girlfriend, huh? Because if you tried to dump her for her own good, we are going right back and getting her, mister. Pray that she takes your miserable ass back after all the bull you’ve put her through.”

The Doctor whined like a broken electronic shutting down, curling his fingers into the captain’s coat.

“C'mon. How long has it been since you ate?”

“Dunno,” the Doctor murmured.

Jack kicked the door to the kitchen without waiting for the TARDIS to open it, dragging the Doctor at his side as the lights flickered on, dim and gentle. The Doctor dropped limply into a chair, supporting himself on the small dining table, while Jack pushed him into a position that might be more comfortable. He gripped the Doctor’s jaw gently, examining the hollowed face and cringing at what he found.

“You’re dehydrated,” Jack said sharply, scolding, like a worrisome mother who had caught her child playing in the snow without a coat. The Doctor didn’t respond.

The Doctor choked when Jack pressed something into his mouth and suddenly there was water, cold and crisp and filling his throat without being invited. He gagged, spewing water back up and allowing it to dribble out the side of his mouth, before his body suddenly remembered what water was like and how much he needed it. He swallowed greedily, burning his unused throat before soothing it with cool softness. Jack dabbed the spilled water off of his face, gentle, gentle, gentle with the spindly leftovers of what was once a great man.

“What happened, Doc?” Jack asked when the Doctor had finally had his fill of water. The Doctor huffed out small puffs of breath as the water soothed his insides, like a wash over a dirty floor. The dust in his systems was being cleared out.

“She’s gone,” the Doctor rasped.

The color drained from Jack’s face. His mouth opened, closed, opened again, and gasped silently like a fish as his knees trembled. He shook once, violently, before he reached out and gripped the Doctor’s bony arm with all the force of a vice. The Doctor whimpered and Jack immediately released his hold, snatching his hand back like the Doctor’s arm had become a snake.

“… How?” asked Jack.

The Doctor exhaled heavily. “Cybermen.”

Jack hissed angrily. “Did she… did she become one of them or did they… did they delete…?”

“I don’t….” The Doctor curled even further into himself than he already was, drawing his knees up to his chest. “I don’t know.”

At this, Jack stilled. He tilted his head to the side, eyes lighting up oddly. “You don’t… know.”

“No.”

“You mean you didn’t see her die.”

“They took her away!” The Doctor snapped. “She couldn’t have escaped, she-”

“Nuh-uh!” Jack cut the Doctor off, jumping a little bit on his heels before he knelt face-to-face in front of the Doctor. “So in all likeliness, she’s dead.”

The Doctor snarled.

“Okay,” Jack continued, “but you didn’t see-”

The Doctor rallied strength that he shouldn’t have had and smacked Jack across the face.

“She’s dead, Jack,” the Doctor whimpered, withdrawing as Jack rubbed the red side of his otherwise perfect face. “She’s dead and I don’t know how they did it but I know it hurt her and I know she was afraid and I know she probably died wondering why I didn’t come to save her and I don’t want to know any more.”

Jack stared. The Doctor stared back, brown eyes unable to shed tears.

And then a small smile graced Jack’s face. “Now, Doc, I’m surprised at you. You’re always talking about what a superior Time Lord you are, but you didn’t think of Schrödinger’s cat. Shame one you.”

The Doctor blinked rapidly. “What?”

“Schrödinger’s. Cat.” Jack booped the Doctor on the nose. “Y'know. With equal chances of death and survival, the cat is theoretically both alive and dead as long as it remains unobserved?”

“I know what Schrödinger’s Cat is, Jack, but I don’t-”

“Ah-ah-ah!” Jack scolded. “You didn’t see the cat. The cat is dead, but it is also alive. And this would be completely inapplicable, however… I have a Vortex Manipulator, and you have a big Time Machine. Schrödinger would be insanely jealous.”

Jack jumped up to his feet, bouncing as he went, and snatched a banana off of the counter, which he tossed to the Doctor. The Doctor caught it, barely, and couldn’t seem to decide if he wanted to look at Jack or the banana.

“You eat at least three bites of that before I get back,” Jack said firmly, pointing at the banana.

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow at the captain.

“No arguments,” said Jack. “I assume the coordinates of the tragic separation are still in the TARDIS computer?”

The Doctor nodded.

“Good. Off I go, don’t wait up for me, and please eat something. I would hate to have to force-feed you, but that doesn’t been I won’t do it, Doctor!”

And then Jack bolted from the room, leaving a very confuddled Doctor behind with no clue of what was going on. And a banana.

archiveofourown.org
River's Last Gift - Jaylie - Doctor Who (2005) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Rating: General Audiences

Archive WarningCreator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: F/M

Fandom: Doctor Who (2005)

Relationship: Twelfth Doctor/River Song

Character: Twelfth Doctor

Additional Tags: Episode: s10e01 The PilotReflectionGrief/Mourning

Summary : Reflection of the Twelfth Doctor about the picture on his desk.

"The doctor doesn't go around falling in love with people..."

I’ve seen so many people say “oh what about Rose Tyler or Clara? She must not know about rose?” And my answer to that, is this:
Clara is the doctors best friend, of course he loves her, not romantically. What wouldn’t you do for your best friend? If my best friend needed me, and I was able to help them(which the doctor was) I would do anything for that best friend.
River knows about rose, I mean. River knows about the war doctor. Pretty sure she knows about Rose and what she meant to the doctor at that time. And I’m pretty sure she’d heard about Clara maybe not in great detail.
Also. In this episode River is in a very very bad place. She just lost EVERYTHING(or so she thought). She just lost her parents( 2 out of the 3 people she loves), who are her best friends, and felt like she lost the doctor because he was mourning and needed to show and let his emotions out someway. And the only person that probably was there was River. So in these moments. She feels as if her whole world has just crumbled to bits.
Also as a child, Hate and doubt was poured into little melody pond. This doubt is beginning to arise again, can you blame her? No you can’t because that’s all she was taught as a child. And without her parents there and no doctor there to hold her in his arms and tell her it will be okay because both of them were in a bad place and he needed to be comforted but so did she and they probably couldn’t just stay there together because of it. So she is literally coming from a mourning period, where she feels as if her husbands love for her is no more because he was probably taking anger out on the only person he can truly trust with his emotions.
But here stands the doctor, his eyes filling with dread that she doesn’t realize how much he loves her and how much she means to him. He thought all those times-picking out a dress for her to wear, little private dates together, nose bops and kisses, giving her his regeneration energy even when he knew that was all that was left of it just to heal her hand because he can’t stand to see her hurting, no matter it be physical or emotional- were enough to prove his love for her. That’s why 12 said. “Not ONE living thing is worth you.”(and technically 12 can still feel the emotions he felt towards Clara. He said their conversation on gallifrey was important-so he’d probably still know how he felt about her, which clearly wasn’t romantic).

And when the wind stands fair, and the night is perfect, when you least expect it, but when you need it the most…there is a Song.

No Matter What

Joshua Hong

Genre: Slight Angst, Fluff

Word count: 956

Warnings: Death {not really tho}


“I’m sorry to bring you such bad news but Miss Hong you lost the baby. I’ll leave you two to mourn.” The doctor says. You went into the doctor’s office because you didn’t quite feel right. The baby wasn’t kicking as much and the all the normal month 6 side effects weren’t affecting you, therefore, you got slightly troubled. Now you lost the baby and you were desperately crying and Joshua just stood there staring at you. 

“Joshua what do we do?” You ask as he runs his hands down his face. 

 “Y/n give me some time alone to think about this.” He says taking a big sigh. 

“Think about what Joshua?” You ask. You were confused by his cold and sharp answers. You would think the sweet boy you met in college would comfort you after you just lost the baby you just carried for the last 6 months. 

“Think about this…us. Y/n I don’t think I can do this anymore we tried so hard for a baby and now all the work is gone.” Joshua` says. Your heart is pounding. Your blood is boiling. Your eyes are all red and puffy. 

“Y/n I think we should you know get a divorce.” He says in a low voice. 

“Joshua you only married me for a baby?” You yell at him.

“Yes, and no, Y/n I loved you but that love has faded and I couldn’t break up with you right after the wedding and so I just didn’t know how to put it but I know now and I’m firm on my decision,” Joshua says grabbing his jacket. You were drowning in tears now you lost the baby, your husband’s leaving you, what else could happen. As he reaches for door handle he looks back at your disheveled state and sighs. 

“Y/n you should be thanking me right now, at least I’m not making you raise a child alone.” He says before shutting the door and letting you cry what else can you do but cry. 

 “Y/n SWEETHEART WHAT'S THE MATTER?” Joshua asks stroking your arm. You weren’t in a doctor’s office you were in your bedroom. You look at the clock which is on your nightstand; it reads 3:17am. 

You feel beads of sweat roll down your face. “Honey, you were tossing and turning and sweating is everything ok?” Joshua asks. You swing your arms around Joshua as he strokes you back and you are crying tears of joy to see that it was all a nightmare. You relay your nightmare to him as he shakes his head about his nightmare Joshua demeanor. 

“J-Joshua would you ever leave me even if we did lose the baby?” You ask him in a whisper. “I would never leave you or this precious bundle of joy you’re going to bring into this world. and if we by chance lose the baby, well ill be right here to comfort you because I know how upset you will be, and I’ll always be here like we said in our vows, for better or for worse.” He says as he looks you dead in the eye. “I’ll NEVER leave you.” He whispers as you suddenly tuck your head into the crook of his neck. 

“Joshua I love you.” You say as he kisses your forehead. 

“Y/n I love you too, I love you so much.” He says after you kiss him on the lips.

 “How about we go to the doctor tomorrow to check on this little buddy right here,” He says patting the bump growing on your stomach. 

“I’d like that a lot.” You say as he beckons you to lay down again. There you drift off to sleep in his embrace. 

The next morning you both head out to the doctor's office filled with fear and nervousness. But Joshua is right there holding your hand the whole time. As the doctor re-enters the room with the report; Joshua squeezes your hand as the doctor sits down. 

“Good news Miss Hong you have a healthy 6 month-year-old baby.” The doctor says as you give out a sigh of relief. You didn’t realize it but you started crying and the doctor hands you some tissues. 

“Now I asked you this the last time you visited but I’ll ask you again would you like to know the gender of the child?” The doctor asks. 

“I would,” Joshua says as he looks to you for your answer. You nod in agreement.

 “Okay then well, you’ll be having a healthy baby girl. Congratulations.” The doctor says as he exits the room. Joshua embraces you in a hug as he starts crying as well. 

“Y/n were having a beautiful baby girl.” He says as you wipe away his tears. Joshua then takes your hand and places one hand on your belly. Then he kneels down to be eye level with your stomach. 

“Hi princess it’s your daddy here I’m making yo this vow not only to you but to your mommy as well. I promise to always be with you, for better or for worse, I’ll always be there. No matter what.” Then he kisses your stomach and then stands up to wrap his arms around your waist. He pecks at your lips and smiles as he lays his forehead against yours.

 “No matter what. I’ll be there, no matter what I’m always yours.” Joshua whispers but only for you to hear.

Admin Jai

Everything on this show is one goddamn causal loop

With a couple of smaller loops inside it.

Let me get this straight:

Eleven only changed his mind about destroying Gallifrey in Time of the Doctor because Clara told him to “be a doctor.”

In fact, the only reason the Doctor didn’t die before that point is because Clara scattered herself along his timeline and saved him.

But she only met the Doctor because Missy gave her his number.

Which Missy was only able to do because Gallifrey was saved  in Time of the Doctor. And only because the Time Lords sent her to bring the Doctor back to Gallifrey to be interrogated?. The Cybermen army bit was probably her own idea *.

Post-War Gallifrey also opened a big, password-protected crack on Trenzalore, which started a war there.

And while Clara, again, eventually closed the crack using the right words and gave us Twelve, the war caused the Papal Mainframe to split into factions.

The Kovarian Faction created River Song.

River (or the Silence? still can’t make sense of it) exploded the Tardis in The Pandorica Opens.

The exploding Tardis caused the cracks in the universe, which is how the Doctor met Amelia and Rory; River’s parents; his family. Who then get sent back in time by a Weeping Angel.

So that whole thing with the Cracks was the consequence of the Time Lords’ first attempt of coming back. It started (for us) with little Amelia and ended with Clara on Trenzalore.

The Ponds’ loss is what prompted the Doctor to go mourn on a cloud in the Victorian era, where he meets Oswin Oswald, who he realizes is the Soufflé girl from Asylum of the Daleks when he later sees her grave.

And then he receives a call from Clara Oswald about the internet being gone, and is intrigued. She becomes his companion and makes him save Gallifrey. And Gallifrey opens a big Crack. Which leads to a war. And, later, Twelve. Still, they decidethat the whole thing wasn’t such a good idea and to send someone out, instead. They send Missy.

Clara only had the number from Missy because Missy wanted to lure the Doctor to 3W to give him an army, because apparently she thought he’d need one. 

* Heaven Sent makes it reasonable to assume that she thought he’d need one because the Time Lords were worried that he might become the Hybrid and wanted a word with him. So they sent Missy to a) find out if the Doctor is the Hybrid, b) get the Doctor to Gallifrey if he isn’t or c) find out what side he’s on if he is. It might have just been to give Clara the Doctor’s phone number, but I think she’s a bit overqualified for that. Also she seemed really desperate to get him to come home with her.

Missy failed and went AWOL on Skaro. Mayor Me got him to Gallifrey but it got Clara killed. And the 2 billions years inside the confession dial took care of the question whose side the Doctor is on.

I am not at all convinced that the Doctor is the Hybrid, but I’m sure of one thing: The Time Lords trying to figure out who it is and trying to stop/manipulate it is what made its creation possible in the first place. That’s exactly why they have non-interference rules.

It’s just how prophecies work. It’s how this whole fucking show works.

It’s what’s giving me a headache.

sharing a blog with someone on tumblr is like fucking awesome, i mean Drey could have something in the drafts that says “the doctor came in with a faux mournful look” and i could add on “and then i suddenly farted and the hospital exploded” like what is not to like about sharing a blog?!?!

Oh my sweet ladybug

A/N: Honestly, I don’t know. (ao3)


Marinette Dupain-Cheng is fourteen when she meets a red floating blob that calls itself a kwami.

It says it would give her powers by wearing earrings.

“My name is Tikki.” It hums.

She is enthusiastic.

… .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is fourteen when she meets a boy with cat ears, a black tail, and the power of destruction.

“Hello, My Lady.”

He is infuriating.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is fifteen when she feels her heart rockets in her chest, where there is a boy with eyes of gems.

He is a model.

“Class, meet Adrien Agreste.”

She is in love.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is fifteen when she is tongue tied in front of that boy.

He has Apollo’s golden hair.

The kindness he radiates is enchanting.

She falls deeper.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is sixteen when her partner tells her what his heart feels.

The love he gives is something she fears.

“I’m sorry.”

The howls he gives out is something she hates.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is seventeen when she sees the man underneath that obstacle.

She takes a step back when she meets gem like eyes.

His smiles are gentle.

“Princess.”

She flees.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is eighteen when they defeat Hawkmoth together.

The world is ablaze.

They survived.

Their hands links together.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is eighteen when she tastes her tears on his lips.

Purple cloth mixes with red.

Insanity gleaming in those eyes they learn to despise.

Her sobs is as strong as his own in their quiet bubble.

“Free me.”

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is nineteen when she whispers those words.

They are alone.

His eyes are filled with her world.

Her fingers runs down his skin.

“I love you.”

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is twenty-one when she feels his blood in her hands.

He is laughing even when he is at Death’s doorstep.

“I’ll wait for you, Princess.”

Her screams echoes through the night.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is twenty-two when Tikki leaves her.

The kwami is devastated as she is.

But new heroes must be found.

As destiny waits for no man.

She has never felt so alone.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is twenty-four when she stares out of her window, her work forgotten.

She cares not for the droplet of blood from her pricked finger.

She cares not for the pity looks she gets from the people she knows.

She cares not for her broken heart from those shards that is the cause of more scars.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is twenty-eight when she is successful.

She is a master of her own.

Noir is known internationally as it bases off the former heroes.  

Her latest hit is a Chat Noir dress.

Sometimes she cries herself to sleep while clutching onto it.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is twenty-nine when she feels her heart is full again.

She remembers his red hair and beautiful sea green eyes.

He cares for her.

He wants to love her as much as he had all those years ago.

She lets him.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is thirty-one when she gets married.

The dress she makes is wonderful.

She is happy.

But something will always be missing.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is thirty-two when her daughter is born.

Her baby is so small in her arms, with sea green eyes and ebony hair.

Her husband kisses the top of her head.

The gurgles lights up the room more.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is thirty-three when her husband looks at her sadly.

“I’ll never be him.”

She looks at him sharply, and he avoids her, ashamed.

Sighing, she cups his cheeks with loving hands and looks at him with gentle eyes.

“No.” She agrees quietly.

“And yet I still love you.”

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is thirty-five when she visits his grave.

She puts down the red rose he gives her the first day they meet.

There are no more tears to shed for.

“I would never forget you.”

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is forty-eight when she looses her father.

Heartattack, the doctors says.

Impossible, Tom has always been a healthy man, she protests.

Her mother mourns for his death.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is fifty-three when she becomes a grandmother.

Her grandson has blonde hair and green eyes.

She almost chokes when she sees him for the first time.

She sees the gentleness in him too.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is sixty-five when she looses her mother.

Sabine is too old.

She dies a soft death.

She will meet her father.

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is eighty-nine when she lays on her bed as the dropper connects to her hand.

Her husband sits beside her, old and withered and loving.

He sighs as he gives her a smile.

“I love you.”

She gives a small smile of her own.

“I love you too.”

… . .

. .

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is free.

She is twenty-one again when she sees the light around her.

And then, he is there with a hand in front of him.

He grins widely, as young as she remembers.

“My Lady.”

She finds it hard to breathe as she takes it.

“Adrien.”

They are together again.

Countdown: The Husbands of River Song

Tick Tock
Goes the clock
We wept and we mourned her
Tick Tock
Goes the clock
Till River meets the Doctor.

Never Can Say Goodbye

Everyone talks about how Captain Kirk was born in the stars and fought to go back to them. But few people realize Pavel Chekov dreamed of the stars as a boy, barely old enough to walk or talk, always reaching up to the sky when held in his mother’s arms as a toddler.

It just happens to work out that Pavel is a genius and graduates high school at ten, university at fourteen, enlists in Starfleet that same year.

He’s given his own room, probably because of his age, and the other cadets make rude comments under their breaths the first time he’s in a sim. At the helm next to him is a man named Hikaru Sulu, and Sulu gives him a shaky smile.

They not only excel, they beat the Academy record. Pavel’s hands shake the whole time, but they did it.

From then on they’re put together, and the laughing ceases. In the Command track, Pavel also has interactions with a famous cadet named Kirk. The three of them work together a lot in their track specific courses, and Pavel feels he has two friends. 

Nero attacks in the Spring semester, and Pavel almost drops dead when he finds out his posting is Navigator of the flagship. He knows he’s competent, he works hard, but he’s still so young and inexperienced, and Captain Pike selected him above everyone possible.

Sulu sits next to him having been first runner up, and Pavel is relieved.

It turns out that Pavel’s other skills come in handy, since he can run a transporter when the objects are moving too quick for other people to register. Pavel likes the engineering theories as much as his specialization, and he beams Kirk and Hikaru back just in time.

He tries again with Commander Spock and the Vulcans, but he falls short Spock’s mother. 

(Days later when Nero has been stopped and the ship limps back to Earth, Pavel comes to Spock with tears in his eyes and multilingual apologies babbling from his lips. Spock in his way assures him there are no hard feelings and that he appreciates the ones Pavel could save. It still keeps him up at night on occasion even years later.)

Pavel gets a bit restless with navigation and tactics, and Mister Scott is kind of a bit irritable at times. So he asks if he can be taken under his wing, and Kirk supports it “just in case.” So he spends time after his shifts in Engineering with Mister Scott teaching him the ropes. He gets asked to say Scotty more than once, but he never does. Just like it’s never Jim or never Leonard or never just Spock. 

Pavel knows they respect him, he knows they consider him a friend. But he knows his place just the same. 

Hikaru is always Hikaru, though, and somehow Lieutenant Uhura becomes Nyota.

So Pavel has learned the ins and outs and then…Admiral Pike dies, there are bombings, and Mister Scott quits. Kirk asks him to put on a red shirt, and Pavel does knowing he’s not actually ready. It’s fine until it’s not, and the Enterprise has been sabotaged. Pavel does what he can, but the Vengeance is too much, and as Chief Engineer, he decides to go down with the ship. 

But then he saves Mister Scott and Captain Kirk. 

And then the Captain dies.

Pavel is too busy to mourn or deal with it, and besides, Doctor McCoy fixes it. The ship is brought to dock, and they spend a year grounded while it’s refitted, repaired, rehabilitated. He’s given a Starfleet apartment in the same building as Hikaru and Ben, and down the hall from Nyota and Mister Spock. He doesn’t realize that Doctor McCoy and the Captain are sharing one until he leaves as they return from a grocery store. 

Mister Scott is there too, though he’s gone a lot supervising the repairs.

The year flies by, and then they have the ceremony. Pavel wears his dress grays with his comrades, and they head out into the black for their five year mission.

This time in the off hours, they become Jim and Leonard and Spock, sometimes Scotty, and Hikaru becomes a dad to a beautiful girl named Demora. Pavel becomes Uncle Pasha, and he showers Demora with gifts.

They go into space, and it’s all uncharted. Pavel is busier than ever, making new maps, naming new places, meeting new people. It goes wrong more often than it goes well, but they have a good time. They all get close, Jim having everyone for dinner once a week to bond. It’s wonderful and great, and for the first time, Pavel really feels like he’s one of them.

The Swarm hits the ship, and they all end up separated. Pavel is with Jim, and as they slowly regroup, he knows more than ever that he’s found a second family. He hugs Scotty when they meet again, and Jaylah intrigues him, but they all save the day and the Yorktown. 

The Enterprise is now the NCC-1701-A, and they all live on Yorktown for its construction. Leonard teaches him how to properly fry chicken. Jim buys him a bottle of Glenfiddich to replace the one he and Leonard borrowed. Nyota goes dancing with him and they speak in a Saint Petersburg dialect the whole time, making everyone around them think they’re a couple. Uncle Pasha showers Demora with more gifts and tells her of his adventures in space with her amazing dad. Spock shows him the Ambassador’s belongings, and he gets to see himself in a few decades with his family. He and Scotty play cards and drink, and honestly those are his favorite times.

And a month before the ship’s rebuilt, Pavel gets asked to meet with Commodore Paris.

He’s offered First Officer on the Reliant with a huge bump in rank to boot. 

He asks to think about it, and she gives him a day.

Pavel avoids everyone but Scotty. Keenser is with him, and they sit at a cafe in the city plaza. Pavel tells him the predicament.

Scotty listens. Then he thinks. “Well laddie,” he begins. “As much as we love you, you can’t sacrifice your career. You’ve earned this, and it’s not like we all won’t ever see each other again. We do work for the same organization.”

Pavel nods.

Scotty smiles with a twist of bitterness. “Aye, but…we’ll miss you.”

Pavel hugs him, and Scotty swallows particularly hard. Keenser salutes, and Pavel heads back to the Commodore. He accepts the posting.

He tells Jim and by proxy Leonard in person, Spock and Nyota the same. He has dinner with Hikaru, Ben, and Demora, and…it goes as well as it can.

Hikaru looks stunned but then he shakes his head. “I want my own ship one day,” he begins. “There’s rumors of a new gen of ships called Excelsior. It’ll be weird for you to not be at my right. But…you need to do this.”

Pavel nods, his throat closed up, and they hug for a long time.

When the Enterprise is ready, Pavel goes to see everyone off. His favorite instructor from the Academy, Arex, is taking his post. Arex is kind and competent, and Pavel knows he’ll be welcomed with open arms.

His close friends take turns hugging him, saying farewell, wishing him luck. He does the same, telling them to be bold and go where no one has before. They’re the last to beam up, and he waves when they do.

Pavel goes back to his apartment, where he sees something on his desk that wasn’t there before.

It’s a picture—one he forgot he was taken. It’s the seven of them posed like the older versions in Ambassador Spock’s belongings. Almost all of them (not Spock and Leonard, never) smiling around the Captain’s chair. It was taken the day the five year mission started. It’s already been framed for him.

There’s a card from them with notes and well wishes and inside jokes. He decides to frame it too. They’ll both go in his office on the Reliant. And he makes sure to call them whenever they’re in the same part of space.


*~* For Anton *~*