Ugh, I'm sorry it sounds like you got a nasty anon. You don't deserve that. :( When you're down for it, “Let’s see what we have to play doctor with…paper towels, expired peroxide and…duct tape?” with ChloNath, please?
“Let’s see what we have to play doctor with…paper towels, expired peroxide, and…duct tape?” Chloe held the half-used roll of duct tape away between two fingers as if it was something offensive. “Your first aid kit is terribly lacking, Red.”
“Usually it’s me patching you up at your place,” Nathaniel responded through gritted teeth. “We’re never over here.”
“Which begs the question of why you haven’t just moved in with me already.” Chloe studied the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “Do you think this will kill you if we use it?”
“I don’t think it’s harmful, just probably won’t do anything more than water would.”
“Give me your hand.” Chloe grabbed Nathaniel’s hand in a surprisingly gentle maneuver, flipping it over so his bloody palm faced up. “I’ve told you to be careful with those blades.”
“I like the effect they cause in the paint. It’s worth a little pain.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “You are such an artist,” she groaned.
Nathaniel chuckled, watching her tip the bottle of hydrogen peroxide over his hand. The liquid spilled cold against his skin. “As to your earlier comment, I keep this place because I need somewhere to paint.”
“You could paint at my place.”
“No I couldn’t. I need somewhere I can be messy and bleed,” he held up his hand with a grin. “Your place is way too nice.”
“We could find somewhere else.” Chloe didn’t look up as she softly patted the sliced skin dry.
He looked up at her then. “You would be willing to move somewhere less nice just so we could live together?”
“It would still be nice, of course. But we could make sure you had room to be messy.” She folded a paper towel and held it in place on the oozing cut. “I can’t believe how ridiculous this is,” she muttered. “Hold that.” She grabbed the duct tape and wound it around the paper towel to make a makeshift bandage. “You look so trashy right now.”
“But I’m your trash. You want us to live together.”
“I remember saying nothing of the sort. You’re obviously delusional from blood loss,” she sniffed.
Thanks, Nonny. I’m trying to shake off the bad comment but it’s still lingering. I wish people would realize the effect their words can have. I’ll just keep writing and moving past it though. Thanks for the support! :)
If you want a drabble, choose a prompt from here, here, or here. Send the quote (not just a number) with a pairing and I will get to it when the inspiration hits! :)
Archie got stuck under the house today. I let him out to go to the bathroom, made Nate breakfast, and in those 5 minutes he pulled the skirting off the side of the house and dug his way under. Brad had to dig him out from the other side of the house coz he apparently couldn’t find the way out again. And he’s meant to be a smart breed 😂😂 so relieved we got him out safe and sound. We have rescrewed in all the skirting now and our paving stones along the edge to discourage him digging. We think he might have chased a cat under there because we often hear them having congregations under there.
I took Nate to the doctors today. Yesterday at centre he stuffed his face full of TOO MUCH FOOD and we thought some of it might have been stuck in his palate. I couldn’t find any when he had his bath before bed, But he kept vomiting/choking with every meal and bottle. We finally managed to get the offending stuck bit of food out of his throat around midnight and he was hysterically upset about it. Now he’s all husky and coughing a lot still, and he has developed a double ear infection just to put the icing on the cake.
I have been prescribed metoclopramide since I haven’t been able to keep a meal or full drink down for a couple days. Hopefully it will help or I don’t know what to do 😢 I’m so miserably sick all the time!
Brad is away for work for a couple days so I’m just like…twiddling my thumbs and trying to survive on my own between vomiting bouts (both myself and Nate) and house chores.
This has been a long and rather negative update. I swear life isn’t that bad right now haha! Ed Sheeran added a 3rd show for my city next March so now I’m thinking FUCK IT the universe is giving me 3 chances to go see an artist ive always wanted to see live. Baby will only be a couple months old though so I’m torn about what to do. Blah.
I loved Extremis even more because the TARDIS didn’t translate Italian even though it should have and I should have realised something was off because the TARDIS should have been able to translate EVERY language or near enough in the universe but for it not to translate Italian made it seem more real and that something was definitely up.
I’ve been watching the stars die. It was beautiful. No, it was sad. No. It was both. But that’s not something you would understand, is it? You don’t like endings. She died, Doctor. Clara died billions of years ago. You killed her. No. You let it happen. No, I didn’t. Neither did you. She did.
I love the way this one turned out, all the little details like the hair and the lace and the fabric folds! I also love that you can interpret this as different BP and DT characters. She could be Lily, but she could also be Rose, all pink and yellow, after convincing the Doctor to actually stay for the party in their honor and their hosts provided them with appropriate clothing. She just caught him looking at her cleavage during their dance and he’s fumbling for an excuse or apology, he’s not sure which, while continuing to look-notlook. Hehe! Feel free to use as inspiration for fic, if you want!
what people think doctors say: gentlemen, we can rebuild him. we have the technology. we have the capability to make the world’s first bionic man. steve austin will be that man. better than he was before. better…stronger…faster.
what doctors say: i dont know. keep trying the meds. see you in eight weeks.
Dr Who but each incarnation is swapped with one of their companions.
omg?? I love it??
The First Doctor:
She’s not completely unfriendly, exactly, she just doesn’t have time for humans being idiots. In the right circumstances, she can actually be very warm. She loves history, which is lucky because her granddaughter Susan does too (they tell people Susan is her daughter, but even then it’s a bit of a stretch, human ages are weird). Of course, then two of Susan’s teachers follow her home one night, and next thing the Doctor knows she has a crotchety old history teacher and a handsome young science teacher on her spaceship with no way to get rid of them that isn’t morally questionable.
The humans help her lose some of her haughtiness. She leaves Susan in the 22nd century to become her own woman.
Along the way and against her better judgement, she falls hopelessly for Ian Chesterton. He wants to stay with her forever, but she knows it would never work, and encourages him to go with John Foreman in the Dalek Time Machine to get back to his own time.
Later, in other lives, she checks in on him occasionally.
The Second Doctor:
The baby face is a problem. It takes a good twenty minutes on a lot of occasions to get anyone to take her seriously. On the bright side, a lot of Polly’s clothes fit her now.
She finds a best friend in Scotsman Jamie McCrimmon, whose rather naive approach to futuristic technology is extremely refreshing, as is his unique insightfulness.
After Ben and Polly leave them, they rescue Victoria, who Jamie is utterly taken with. Victoria is unsure about living a life so unsupervised by someone older and won’t listen to the Doctor’s insistence that she is in fact perfectly qualified to look after them all.
She and Victoria spend a good many nights aboard the TARDIS talking about women’s history and the things to come for women in the future and how women act on other planets. Victoria is fascinated, occasionally horrified, and often quietly thrilled at the things she learns.
It’s a shame to see her go, but all she ever wanted was a family and security, and the Doctor can’t provide that.
They meet an eccentric man on a space station, with funny trousers and an obsession with the recorder. The Doctor and Jamie like him instantly, and invite him on board only to learn that the man had been considering stowing away if not invited.
The Time Lords take her friends away from her. She is forced to regenerate and exiled to Earth, as punishment for her interference.
The Third Doctor:
Shrewd, passionately devoted to science, and not one to take kindly to interruptions or anyone trying to talk down to or even disagree with her, it’s a wonder the Doctor even gets hired by UNIT at all. But then again, beggars can’t be choosers.
On the bright side, this fellow John Smith from Cambridge seems to be the one person around with an actual brain and not just a penchant for attacking first and thinking later.
They’re friends instantly. Or, they are once she makes it perfectly clear that she is the cleverer of the two. The look on his face when he realises is a memory she’ll treasure forever.
He eventually leaves to go back to his own research, upon realising she doesn’t need him.
It’s a shame and she misses him, but then Jo Grant comes into her life. Despite an awful first impression, the two women are soon fiercely devoted to each other. Jo keeps going on about women having to stick together amongst all the army boys, and while the Doctor could usually not care less about gender politics, if it means Jo hangs around her more, then so be it.
The Master turns up. It’s exhausting and exasperating and oh so much fun.
Meanwhile, the Doctor’s told herself to not let herself fall for humans, after how much Ian hurt. But with Jo, it’s impossible not to. (Not that she hasn’t noticed the Brigadier’s lingering stares, or failed to appreciate him in his uniform. But he’s far too professional to ever do anything, and too trigger happy besides.)
Jo is like sunshine and she’s always there and smiling and pressing herself against the Doctor out of fear or shock, until one day they’re in the supply closet of a spaceship and they’re kissing furiously instead of listening out for their pursuers.
It’s wonderful, being with Jo. Until Clive Jones comes along, and the Doctor has to tell her to forget about her and marry the nice young man who can grow old with her and give her the life she wants.
She drinks more champagne than she is proud of that night.
Luckily, along comes Sarah Jane Smith, who is exactly the kind of human that the Doctor automatically adores. Inquisitive, sharp, and a vocal feminist. What a woman.
Of course, then giant alien spiders happen, and it’s time for a change.
The Fourth Doctor:
Or… not. Apparently, she’s doomed to be young, attractive, humanoid, and pale skinned throughout all her lives. There are worse fates, but she wouldn’t mind a little variety, frankly. And being so small is getting infuriating.
Harry takes a long while to take her seriously, but once he does, he is steadfastly loyal. Sarah Jane takes the regeneration in stride for the most part.
And after them, Leela, who is so strange and savage but so utterly charming in her honesty. They share a few kisses, but nothing more.
Then comes Romana. A young Time Lord who looks older than her, is far taller than is sensible, and has an even more absurd grin. She can’t stand him, with his bragging about his grades and thinking he knows everything.
She soon teaches him that experience wins every time.
Of course, then he spots some pretty princess on Tara, and next thing she knows, the moment the whole Key To Time mess is sorted, Romana is now a less taller, less ridiculous, utterly beautiful Time Lady in her first regeneration.
She tries to argue against what she can only consider body theft, or at least copying, but it is a relief to not have to crane her neck up to speak to her companion.
Romana becomes a most dear friend. She’s missed being around someone like her, someone who understands. It makes it all the worse when she leaves, leaving the Doctor with only Adric and his incessant questions.
The Fifth Doctor:
There’s something about this body, a regality, that commands a little more respect than the ones before it, despite it following the pattern of her others.
Adric’s questions exasperate her, while Tegan’s demands to be taken home are met with gentle requests for patience and promises of Heathrow airport, and this Traken prince she’s picked up is thankfully one of the most polite people she’s ever had in the TARDIS. Decent brain on him, too.
Tegan’s smile sometimes makes her stomach do backflips. The Doctor ignores it. She’s learned her lesson. It’s almost a relief to see Tegan reach her breaking point and leave, except it isn’t, because for a long while it feels like a part of her is missing.
Turlough is a curiosity, but a nice one who makes for surprisingly good company in the absence of the others.
Perpugilliam Brown is a surprise. The Doctor remembers why she has tried to avoid America where possible in her travels. Americans are loud. But in the case of Peri, it involves shouting at the Master, and as such, the Doctor decides that Perpugilliam Brown can stay as long as she likes.
Between the two of them and soon Erimem, uncrowned Pharaoh of Egypt, they make quite the team.
The Sixth Doctor:
It’s about time! Finally, a more weathered model. Peri is surprised to say the least, and seems a little disappointed to lose out on her best friend who had until now looked a very similar age to her, but soon realises very little has changed.
And now she lets the Doctor take care of her a bit better. Thank goodness for that! The maternal instincts in this body are absurdly strong, she has no idea what she would do if she couldn’t express them.
Now, the borderline narcissistic but quietly lovable history professor she accidentally picks up some time after losing Peri is a trickier matter. Still, at least he shares her love for chocolate cake.
The Seventh Doctor:
Bright, bubbly, and able to get most people to like her within ten seconds. Now this is a regeneration she likes. Plus, her most impressive set of lungs yet. Handy, for calling companions who like to wander off.
She tries to not encourage Ace’s use of explosives, but it’s difficult when she sees how genuinely happy they make the girl. She’s getting soft in her old age, she knows.
Still, at least her brain makes up for it. She can out-think a computer, easily. The universe is her chessboard and she’ll do whatever the hell she pleases with it.
The Eighth Doctor:
She’s a jolly thing. Always keen for adventure, ready to shout at anyone who deserves it, and just wants to have a good time, really.
After a rather rocky start involving amnesia and kissing the cardiologist who had caused her regeneration in the first place, the Doctor is just minding her own business when she accidentally messes with history.
It seems that saving this stowaway on the R101 might not have been the best idea after all. But he’s so charming and sweet and genuine, sharing her utter passion for life, that by the time she realises her mistake, she’s not willing to part with him.
That goes… about as well as one might expect.
The Ninth Doctor:
It’s funny, being a weathered old war veteran with a guilty conscience, and simultaneously looking like someone who could be on the front of a magazine.
Life is hard, after the time war, but she meets a man with big ears and blue eyes and things get better. A lot better. It feels good to smile again.
The addition of Captain Jack Harkness is an interesting one, but she’s always said the more the merrier. Their other companion is not quite as happy about this development, but before long they’re the best of friends.
The Tenth Doctor:
She’s gentler now, somehow. Oh, she has her anger and her snark, and boy does this body have a set of lungs on her. But she’s so much softer, underneath.
Losing her friends from her last body takes its toll. She at least manages to avoid comparing Martha to them that came before her. Martha is wonderful, always completing even the most impossible tasks that the Doctor puts to her. They part on good terms, after the Master’s ravaging of the Earth. (The Master had not been so impressed with this version of her. He had trouble seeing the strength within, seeing that she was more than the duality of compassion and shouting.) Martha needs to look after her family, and that’s probably for the best.
And then there’s the skinny idiot in the suit. He actually talks faster than she does, which is absurd, but she wonders if that’s simply because of his questionable family. Perhaps not letting them get a word in is how he survives.
Either way, they get along like a house on fire. Losing him, wiping his memory and seeing him stare right through her and smile that stupid smile, is almost enough to break her.
No more companions, she swears.
The Eleventh Doctor:
It’s all about fun, now. Impressing the little boy whose garden she crashes in and then impressing him when he’s grown up and has waited 14 years for her. (To hell with her rule about no more companions. Her old self was full of dumb ideas anyway.)
Oh yes, she likes Rory Williams a lot. And his best friend John isn’t bad either. Mind you, that nose…
She has her spaceship, and her boys, and life is good. Well, there’s River Song to worry about, but she can never be sure if the archaeologist is more interested in her or John. Just one more mystery, it seems.
Losing Rory, and then John, is hard. But she knows that they’re happy, and that’s enough.
The Twelfth Doctor:
Short, bossy, a control freak, and a slight obsession with tartan. Also, her English teacher companion is secretly a rock star wannabe, disguised as a reclusive Scottish nerd.
What’s a girl to do?
(Apparently, find out that her best enemy is alive, and now also female. And Scottish like her companion. The first kiss had been… shocking to say the least. The ones after, against her better judgement, decidedly less so.)
She cares about her companion more than she will ever say, and when faced with losing him, takes things too far. Further than anyone should ever take anything. And when it is all said and done… she can’t remember his face, or his voice, or how he sounded when he mocked how large her eyes were.
River is there to comfort her, though, in those 24 years on Darillium.
And then Bill. Brilliant Bill. Oh yes, they make quite the team. And Nardole helps sometimes too.
Submission: As a queer, nonbinary person and an animal educator, I’ve thought a lot about the issues recently being discussed on this blog and I wanted to share some of that here. I’ve tried to be as calm and clear as possible, but this is an emotional issue for me so it might be a bit emphatic.
Serveral people in this discussion have mentioned already the problems with questioning the existence of bi/pan/trans/ace/aro animals, but not questioning the existance of straight, cis animals. You’ve made passing mentions to this, but I think it’s actually really important to step back and reframe the entire discussion in this context, if you want to be fair and accurate both to the animals and to the people emotionally affected by this issue.
In particular, this passage: “However, the animal science world uses gendered pronouns to denote physical sex in an animal, because that is how efficient and accurate communication about the animal is ensured” raises some massive red flags for me. Yes, it’s important to clearly communicate with your vet about the body parts an animal does and doesn’t have, for ease of treatment. However, pronouns are far from the only way to do this, and definitely not the most efficient. The pronoun “she” doesn’t tell you if a dog is unaltered, spayed, in heat, pregnant, or menopausal - information your vet definitely needs to know. It’s the work of half a moment to state “my dog is a spayed female” at the start of an appointment, regardless of what pronouns you use after that. In fact, many trans* people have already learned to talk with their doctors in specific terms about their hormone levels and organs they do or don’t have, and cis people need to catch up. Part of the reason this is such an emotional issue for trans people is that the argument, “your doctor needs to know the gender you were assigned at birth! Therefore everyone you meet needs to know, and it should be on your ID, in case you get in an accident and we have to tell the doctor!” is often invoked. (I wish that was an exaggeration. It’s not. This is in spite of the fact that, as a trans* person, knowing the gender you were assigned at birth is more likely to lead to false assumptions about your health and biology than true ones.) So yes, your doctor needs to know about your biology and your vet needs to know about your pet’s, but gender pronouns really aren’t the way to do it.
Outside the vet’s office, insisting on cisgender-equivalent pronouns for your pet leads to a world of problems. I volunteer at an animal shelter, and I see people misinterpret animal’s actions through their percieved, anthropomorphic gender roles constantly. They’re more eager to read aggression from a male animal and affection from a female, which has the potential to lead to massive problems, since both of those behaviors can be dangerous to misinterpret. I would personally argue for the stance that people would be more able to accurately interpret the behavior of animals if we refered to all non-human animals with gender-neutral pronouns, to more accurately reflect the fact that animals do not have gender. Even in social animals that do have sex-differentied social roles, those are completely different from human gender roles and should not be confused with them by the use of human gendered pronouns. If the biological sex of an animal matters in a particular context, you can mention it in that context, rather than applying it all the time as though it was part of their identity.
I do understand that some people find it reassuring to observe that the social roles of biologically male or female animals are different from those of humans, and that they too can be as nurturing as a male penguin or as fierce as a female hyena. So I understand that sometimes people will want to refer to those animals as male or female, in the same way that I want to refer to a cuttlefish as genderfluid because it makes me feel happy and validated. I just want cis people to understand that those interpretations are exactly equivalent.
As for how this perspective affects the emotions of humans impacted by this issue: claiming that gendered pronouns are a form of scientific terminology that accurately reflects the biological sex of an animal is, intentionally or not, supporting the idea that there are biologically and scientifically two genders. It gives fuel to people who try to force that mindset onto humans, and believe me, they use it. I’ve met many people who become enraged if I use the wrong pronouns for their dog, but refuse to respect my identity and pronouns. The attatchment of gendered pronouns to biological sex in non-humans is absolutely reflected back into humans by most of the public, whether that is your intention as an educator or not.
Using gender pronouns as scientific terminology also muddies issues significantly as soon as you leave the field of mammals, where it quickly becomes clear that a male/female dichotomy is far from absolute. Do I use female pronouns for the hermaphroditic flatworm who lost the penis-fencing match and is now carrying eggs? Will those pronouns still apply after the eggs have hatched? What if they win the penis-fencing match next time and contribute sperm instead? How about a worker bee, who is genetically female but has not developed reproductive organs and plays no reproductive role? Do I use male pronouns for a fish who was born genetically male, but isn’t able to engage in sexual behavior and fulfill the male sexual role until mating is initiated by the supermale? How about for the supermale, who is genetically female and used to be reproductively female but has since morphed to be reproductively male due to being the largest fish in the school? Is it even accurate to say “genetically female” of a species where both major reproductive roles are carried out by the same genetic category of animals, and those born “biologically” male only reproduce at all by swimming into the middle of the mating dance, ejaculating, and hoping for the best?
A similar issue exists with the assumption that animals are straight. I’ve seen some cringe-worthy anthropomorphization of male/female pairs of animals, including calling them “married,” referring to them as being “in love,” and a lot of analogies to human married-couple behavior, but I’ve never seen this criticized or significantly discussed as an issue of anthropomorphization. But every time I see a post about lesbian birds or trans fish, this issue comes up. I don’t think that animal educators are doing this on purpose, but I do think it is an indicator that many animal educators have not sufficiently deeply challenged the cultural narrative that straight and cis are “normal” but queer and trans* are “debatable” and should be challenged and argued about.
Science is an ever-changing field, and scientific terminology becomes outdated and is changed as we realize that it reflects our social assumptions more accurately than in reflects reality. The terms we use to discuss sex, gender, pair-bonding, and mating behavior are all deeply intertwined with human social assumptions of cisgender, heterosexual, monogamous life-time bonds that are simultaneously romantic/affectionate and sexual in nature. Scientific communication would be improved by dropping those assumptions and the terminology that comes with them.
I don’t think I have much to add to this - it’s really well thought out and well said - so I’m going to boost it as is as part of the continued discussion.
Scientific communication would absolutely be improved by changing the terminology to something more accurate. I don’t know if it’s something that would currently be feasible - because of a myriad of things that make attempting that type of change across so many cultures and languages and historical/social contexts difficult - but I definitely support the idea.