fandom: walking 500 miles

hello yes please stop drawing my dearest clearly-not-skinny charley pollard as a pretty little fragile twig creature

this is charley pollard. she is on the covers of the stories. that is what she looks like. we are happy about this

look at her cute little squishy darling face

it is very important that we have a companion who looks like charley, who is interesting and wonderful and lovely and not skinny and not traditionally porcelain doll beautiful but still chosen by the doctor out of all the creatures in all the universe and also an alternate universe with no concept of time

please stop shrinking charlotte pollard into not-charlotte pollard and, if you feel like drawing a blonde, skinny, conventionally pretty female companion, feel free to play with one of the many others available to you

For the past two seasons I have said that I dislike the way Doctor Who is going, that I don’t approve of the writing choices and the blatant sexism of the dialogue. I’ve disliked it, and I’ve blogged about it, but I’ve kept watching. I’ve kept watching because of the Doctor, because of the history of the show, because of the wonder and the magic of a man who has the power to destroy everything in all of space and time but instead just wants to see it and share it with someone ordinary. 

And that’s what Moffat’s been counting on, I think, this idea that regardless of what he does, the core fanbase will continue to watch the show, continue to buy merchandise, continue to support him because of what Doctor Who is. He no longer feels as though he is being held accountable by his fans, and so he sees no need to justify his character development or his underdeveloped, convoluted storylines. He knows we’ll watch his stories no matter what, and so he feels no motivation to make them good, or sensible. Because nothing’s going to happen if he doesn’t.

But I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough one-liners where I am the punchline. I’ve had enough senseless plots and one-off villains smashed into places they don’t fit. I’ve had enough of seeing the Doctor turn into someone I would be scared to be alone with, someone whose hands wander and brain slides past “don’t touch me.”

I’ve lost my raggedy man, my sad-hearted wanderer, my Doctor, and in place of the Time Lord who ran away with someone who needed the stars is a leering man who sees women as mysteries to be solved, his Impossible Girls, all of them in love with him and all of them weak. 

And that was it. That’s as far as it goes. I wish Peter Capaldi the best of luck, and I know he will do as wonderfully with whatever words he is given as Matt Smith did with his. But I will only watch him speak those words if they aren’t written by Steven Moffat. I will not watch the new season of Doctor Who. That’s all. I’m done. No more chances.