the doctor (11)

I figured there was truth in the rumours, but I’m so sad to hear it’s been pretty much confirmed that Murray Gold will no longer be composing for Doctor Who. In my opinion, he has written some of the best scores out there. I have thoroughly enjoyed everything he has written for Doctor Who, and I can only hope that the Series 9 and 10 soundtracks will eventually be released so we can continue to appreciate and love his amazing music.

Thank you, Murray Gold, for contributing such such an instrumental (no pun intended) element to 10 series of this show.

There is absolutely a conversation to be had and criticism to be made regarding the Thirteenth Doctor being a white woman.

We do need to reflect on how people (particularly women) of colour tend to get left behind during the fireworks show of having moved a step forward in representation - how we’re seeing a lot of white women assuming these kinds of roles in big-budget franchises, but not a lot of other kinds of women. It’s not a ‘diversity win’ for all.

But I sure would fucking appreciate it if the conversations I’ve been seeing on that subject wouldn’t act like Pearl Mackie doesn’t exist…


Requested Anonymously

You were so small.

The Doctor gazed down at you in awe, delighted at the difference between this you and the older you he had been with hardly five minutes ago. He had just been with you, a beautiful grown woman, and you had hugged him goodbye and told him to have fun but be back on time while you ran some errands to restock the TARDIS kitchen. But now he was with a much, much younger you.

Much younger.

You weren’t even a year old. You weren’t capable of speech, your motor skills were negligible, you couldn’t see a full range of colors, you didn’t have all that much hair, and you couldn’t even sit up on your own. You were a mess of a miniature human being, and the Doctor was enchanted.

“You,” the Doctor cooed, lifting you out of your crib, “are just adorable, aren’t you? Yes, you are. Oh, shh-shh-shh, don’t fuss, sweetness. You don’t want Mummy and Daddy to wake up. They won’t be happy to find me in here, and I doubt they’ll believe me if I say I’m just visiting my girl.”

He cradled you to his chest, picking out underdeveloped features that he recognized. The shape of your ears, the curve of your lips, the wisps of hair that felt like downy feathers under his touch. Oh, you were so tiny.

“Hello, luv,” he murmured to you. “I guess this is the first time you’ve met me, eh? Momentous occasion, actually. You'n'I will be quite the pair. Though, not for a while. You’ve got some growing up to do, first, and then there’s all the dancing we’ll do- no, not that kind of dancing, but not the other kind either. Just dancing around each other, so unsure. So scared, both of us. See, part of growing up is that people hurt you.”

You gurgled softly and started to gum at the lapel of his jacket.

“You’re right, that’s not nice of them at all,” the Doctor conceded with a curt nod. “But you’ll forgive them, because you’re a good person. By time you meet me, you’ll have been hurt quite a bit, and you’ll be scared of getting hurt again. I’ll promise to take care of you, but you won’t believe me. What? Oh, well, yes, of course I’ll mean it! I promise!”

You sneezed.

“Bless you. Anyway, we’ll dance, just a bit, because you’ll like me and I’ll like you but we’re both scared of what could happen. What if it doesn’t work out? What if it does? And, hey, can I tell you a secret?”

You only yawned at him.

“Okay, here’s the secret.” The Doctor tilted his head down so that his lips brushed your soft new skin. “It’ll work out. And that’s scary, it is, but… it’s beautiful, and worth it. You’re worth it. And I know you’re not gonna remember this, but I want you to know that I love you.”

What I want from series 11:
  • Thirteen: I am a Time Lady from the planet Gallifrey. I have led troops into battle. I have saved countless civilisations. I am the Oncoming Storm, the Predator, and the one feared above all others. I am, to put it mildly, a genius.
  • Companion, smirking: Yeah, still can't put a bra on though, can you? Your arms go THROUGH the straps. Honestly. Two thousand years kicking around the universe and you never thought to figure out how these things work?