mix HUMAN DETERMINATION + TIMELORD SMARTS, sprinkle becoming an overnight BILLIONAIRE, & you still have much to learn. // donna noble
post-metacrisis, journey's-end fix-it, hc heavy // rules + about
i will be moving donna to a new blog in the next coming weeks, spring cleaning ultra mode if you will. with that, i’m considering a url change. i am massively emotionally attached to this url tho, so if y’all could take this poll i’d be super grateful 🙏
i will be moving donna to a new blog in the next coming weeks, spring cleaning ultra mode if you will. with that, i’m considering a url change. i am massively emotionally attached to this url tho, so if y’all could take this poll i’d be super grateful 🙏
“An offer?” she flashed her own cheeky grin right back at Donna, resisting the urge to hop on her heels, excitable and wild as she was. This body had so much energy, always needing to move, almost fizzing with it. She could never focus except for the times where she couldn’t stop focusing -
“One trip?” she offered, grin widening, “Just for fun, somewhere … exciting.”
How different the Doctor was now, compared to the slinking form that had first come back to her doorstep. It was a relief to see her happier, even if it was only at the prospect of an adventure and nothing philosophical. That had never hindered them before, rather it was what made them work. The reminder settled warmly in her chest as the Doctor questioned outloud. It was a new habit that Donna would have to get used to, hold herself back from shooting her equally as quick answers.
She wasn’t complaining. Not really. Not when now she would have more than memories to smile about.
“Somewhere alien.” Donna makes the demand with a teasing smirk. “I’ve got a decade dealin’ with Earth-bound aliens, I’m not that keen to just hop back in time.” The excitement is contagious and she’s waving her own hands empathically along to her words. “I want to be ‘wow’-ed, just completely swept up-- somethin’ you hadn’t known of before! Somethin’ new, for us.”
To ask if he recalled a paradox he’d encountered was asking him to remember more times than he would have liked, but he remembered this. Remembered everything, and he remembered the paradox in which it was everything. He didn’t think that that was supposed to be remembered by anyone but him. But clearly, whatever lived inside of Donna, whatever remained from the connection between them, it protected her from forgetting. (Or perhaps everyone remembered, and he’d simply never asked.) “I remember,” he reassured.
He let her speak, let her explain. His own composure was strikingly in contrast to the way she struggled to gather her words. He felt that perhaps he should be more like her, more outwardly emotional in this moment, but all there was to do right now as she answered his question was listen. After all, the explanation made as much sense to him as anything else. Whether it was her own DNA or that of the Time Lord, something in her stopped allowing itself to be torn apart, and it patched itself up. “You were spending all that time…” Over and over, dying. He had never thought that that would happen, never thought that anything more would come from what he had done to her. He thought it would help, keep her save, and that would be the end of that.
She turned, and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if he was supposed to reach out to her, or if he was to give her her space. From what he remembered of her, he suspected she would prefer the latter, and he couldn’t say he wouldn’t prefer the same. He gave her her space, trusting that she would return to him when it was necessary. He was silent for a moment, watching her, not sure what to say, not sure what to do. “What have you been doing? Have you had any…side effects?”
Donna scoffed. “I dunno, would you say that growing a second heart counts as a side effect?” She was being catty, and he didn’t deserve that. Not now. Now when he seemed to actually be caring about the consequences. He wasn’t pushing past the subject, using neither maudlin or perky humor to move along. She owed him as much as he was giving her.
She took in a deep breath, straightened out her blouse and faced him again. “I uh, own a business, it’s doin’ alright and well, side-effects, I suppose,” she waved a hand as she thinks out loud, “turning more Timelord? I can’t really go to normal healthcare, it’s actually Martha. D’you remember her? Martha Jones?” She doesn’t let him answer, gathering speed and confidence as she continued. “Course you do, she saved your skin— and if you don’t, it’d do you best not to tell me. But Martha, she’s my doctor, only doctor I’d trust to poke around and know what she’s doing.”
It’s not really an answer, and Donna knows it. There have been side-effects, continuous and sporadic ever since the mindblock left. It’s in the way her voice gets away from her, in how her thoughts race too fast for her to breathe sometimes, and how feeling and focusing on time makes her feel ready to expire on the spot. She should tell him that, any of that, as she’s been wanting to for years. But he’s keeping himself far enough that while it’s civil, it’s concerned— it’s clinical.
It could just all be her paranoia. That was a side effect. She was always a little on the anxious side, worried about others opinions and expectations before worrying about herself. But she knew… It was more than that now.
“I do have…” She licked her lips and squared her shoulders. If she didn’t feel comfortable telling him what was wrong, she would at least ask him for something. “I want to learn telepathy. From you. I have the knowledge but, so much is just,” she shook her head, “it’s mixed and unsorted and I need help, Doctor.”
she visibly deflates, all the hope she had had of escaping unquestioned bleeding from her body as donna continues to push for her to talk. and martha knows she means well : donna has always been so conscious of martha’s feelings and opinions since she joined them after what happened with lazarus. it had been just the two of them : martha and the doctor, for a short amount of time but it had become clear in that time together that she just wasn’t enough for him. or at least, that’s what martha was lead to believe. and she had been more than happy for donna to travel with them. martha had been told only one trip to begin with so anything after that was a bonus. but at a time like this, sometimes, loathe she was to admit it, martha resented that it wasn’t just the two of them anymore.
because the doctor didn’t notice martha’s turmoil, he hadn’t thought to ask her if she was okay, or even question how quiet she had become since they returned to the tardis. if it had been just the two of them, she could have pushed it all aside, pretended that nothing was wrong, that nothing had changed. she could have thrown herself in to whatever the doctor had planned next and not thought about what had happened in nineteen thirteen until she was alone in her room, far away from the doctor. she can’t do that with donna. and that brief moment of resentment disappears as suddenly as it had arrived, because how could she be anything but grateful to have donna there by her side ?
still. despite knowing that donna is persistent and adamant where martha is concerned, she can’t help but try and dissuade her anyway. ❝ i know, ❞ she stresses quietly, arms crossing over her chest. ❝ i know you didn’t ask about him. ❞ lower lip is gently tugged between her teeth as she stares at donna, being extra conscious of not turning her head to look at the doctor over her shoulder. the offer of leaving, of going to the library : a room on the tardis that martha finds particular comfort in secluding herself within for hours on end ( when they aren’t running for their lives, of course ) is tempting. and it shows in the way she releases her lower lip and her head turns slightly towards the doorway, contemplating the offer before she nods imperceptibly and offers her friend a small if strained smile. ❝ yeah, alrigh’ tea sounds good. ❞ but she doesn’t want to talk about this. she really doesn’t. maybe it would be good for her, sure. but truthfully, martha thinks it might be donna who needs this more than she does. and that’s the only reason why she gives in, albeit reluctantly.
martha turns when the doctor speaks, startling her slightly and she smiles up at him standing by the tardis console. she hadn’t noticed him behind her, the way he may have listened in, so as far as she’s concerned, he has no idea that anything is wrong anyway. nothing is wrong, she thinks stubbornly. but she shrugs at the doctor as donna interrupts him, realising that she has already started to walk away and she hurries to catch up, avoiding the doctor’s eyes as donna turns back to him and she sighs heavily, her exhaustion catching up with her now that she knows they won’t be thrown head first in to another situation. she keeps walking as donna threatens him, her smile softening in amusement as she rolls her eyes. ❝ anyone ever tell you you’re a little bit scary ? ❞ martha asks of donna with a lightly teasing tone of voice. she’s delaying the inevitable, she knows that, but donna could at least give her this. the walk to the library, before she has to talk about the past two months and how absolutely miserable it had been for her. her throat closes up slightly at the reminder, her teeth biting in to the inside of her cheek. she would never hold it against either donna or the doctor, but they really don’t have a clue about what it was like for her there. her hands move to rub at her shoulders for warmth, already thinking about the throw blanket she had left in the library before the family had started hunting them. her pace quickens a step or two.
“i haven’t been a little scary since primary. the words you’re lookin’ for,” there’s a haughtiness to her words, to the rise of her chin that’s unexpected given the conversation, “is that i’m a right bitch.” donna smiles easily at that, her typical short and loud laugh bursting through shortly after. with martha there’s no anxiety over her pushy personality or having to shuffle for a simpering-enough facade.
smoothly, she wraps her left arm around the younger woman’s shoulder while keeping them moving. donna had noticed the twitch in her expression, not to mention her arms holding herself tightly. the instinct to hug martha close isn’t one that she double-thinks, rather it’s a missed connection. just like donna hadn’t hidden her true traits from martha, she had been open in her inclination for tight embraces, shoulder bumps, side pokes, and all the little touches that too many of her acquaintances ( she knew what true friends were now, and she’d be damned if she was going to let them slip away ) considered too much.
for a moment, they walked together in companionable silence. the tardis didn’t even try any foolery in changing their path, likely being able to tell that both were more tightly wound than obvious. the old girl was intuitive like that, or it might be better to say that as a telepathic ship she knew her inhabitants well. as well as she can for a mere human, donna sends a mental thanks for making their walk smooth and a request to not help the doctor find his way to them just yet. there’s no way for her to know if her message got across, not even a morse-code flicker of the hallway lights, but having thought it calms her own anxiety. for all her posturing, she was well-aware that the doctor had the final say — she was just endlessly lucky that the doctor was more socially-inept than overbearing.
donna pats martha’s shoulder, still not releasing her hold. it’s not a vice grip, almost resembling more of a casually slung guiding hold. she keeps her gaze on their path as they walk, knowing that she still had to go make the tea and hoping the tardis gives her a fork close to the library, “you know, my mother always told me i should listen to the lil’ voice tellin’ me t’stop. never listened, especially when my grandma said the opposite. drove mum crazy. that was more a plus than not though, an’ i’d end up sneakin’ out the window e’en when she got all splotchy red.” her free hand comes up in an empty shrug, “she’d say it’s a mystery where i ‘get the gall,’” her voice takes on a shrill and mocking pitch before dropping back to her drawling register, “but lookin’ back now, s’pretty clear i had a good source.”
they turn a corner and find the library doors opened before them. she lets go of martha as she steps forward to the fireplace, letting out a delighted sound as it starts on its own. “brilliant, now i’ve got to get the kettle goin’. i’ll just be a tick.” she spins on her heel, ready to keep going when a clatter sounds outside the door. she goes to check it, returning to the couch with a large grin, two mugs, and a teapot steaming ready. “even better! guess the tardis still’s got surprises for us.” donna gives them an additional moment of respite as she serves the tea and gets comfortably seated, but when she looks at martha again, there’s a perceivable expression of patience on her face.
“right. i’m all ears, anythin’ you wanna get off your chest, you’re safe t’do so. includin’ if it’s crying.” she slices a hand in the air, “i’m serious, no holds barred, love.”
birdie’s words don’t hurt. they’re far too similar for donna to take them as insult, to take them as anything but what they are: a stream of consciousness. instead, she huffs out a chuckle, barely enough effort behind the action to count it as such. a shade of a smile remains on her lips even as her gaze turns downward.
“you’re pretty thick yourself, y’know? i don’t see any of those things. in fact,” donna takes in a deep inhale before meeting birdie’s gaze, “i see a woman that’s smart enough to know what needs to be done, brave enough to not wait on other’s solutions, and confident enough to keep her chin up during it all. that,” she stresses the word, “is what’s so admirable about you.”
“i’m not bottom of the barrel, but...” she starts listing off, blue eyes turning back to their surroundings at the threat of vulnerability, “i don’t have a career, i don’t have anything t’my name, and all my talents amount to is knowing how to give a good shout.” donna shrugs. “you’re strides ahead, birdie.”
ask sent by, @donnanxble ; “ i don’t hate you. i admire you. i always have. ” for birdie (context? timeframe? i don’t know her)
“ what is there to admire, huh? m’ a sixty-four year old woman who has absolutely nothin’ goin’ for her. i ‘aint got no real job, no real home. m’ a - a nomadic outlaw who’s only real talent is wieldin’ a gun an’ … an’ hurtin’ people. “ and whilst it’s the life she’d always desired to leave, now that she’s older it feels as though she’s wasted a lot of years being the bad guy. “ i ‘aint sayin’ you gotta hate me but please don’t admire me. jesus, donna. “ she lifts a hand to take her hat off her head, holding it in her left hand as her right one comes to scratch the top of her scalp. “ for a smart lady, y’ say some dumb shit. “ it comes off harsher than she means for it to but there’s no way in hell she’ll let the other liken her to something admirable. “ if anythin’, it’s me who admires you. “
“ a social reject? “ she’ll have to forgive you for scoffing, you really can’t help it. “ that’s very rich coming from a woman who finds herself travelling the world with some lanky alien boy as opposed t o making her own relationships in a life that is better suited to her. “ human beings didn’t need to travel in time, it wasn’t meant for them. this is a world that is much too dangerous, much too complex for them to ever get their small and simple minds around. “ if either of us are to be considered a reject of society, might i hand the baton over to you. “ and you mimic it with your hand, gesturing towards her as if you were a participant in a relay race.
you can appreciate her sharp mouth but the way she defends the doctor does make you feel just a little queasy and the mere idea of being the one to create homemade valentines cards for the doctor has your features physically changing into an expression of disgust. “ don’t be so stupid. “ such a strong word to throw around, you expect some backlash for that. “ he isn’t my type. “ and this isn’t coming from a place of bitterness, he truly isn’t. “ we’re from a completely different planet so the idea of us sharing schools is impossible. “ ever so cocky, you tilt your head as you watch her. “ the doctor and i aren’t the same, despite our ability to manipulate time. we’re a different species, on completely different levels. the history merely lies in the fact that he keeps showing up and messing up my plans. “ as in, you’re wanting to create some chaos and the doctor comes to piss all over that. he’s too much of a goody goody. “ don’t act like you know him, miss noble. i can assure you there’s lots the doctor hasn’t told you. does he call you his best friend? i’ve seen more before you. “
she looks at the extended hand as if it were diseased, unmoving as the nightingale retracts it at finishing her mockery. a year ago, the words would have burned into the back of her throat. they don’t completely miss the mark, lifelong insecurities still finding a home within her but she’s better now. the doctor, martha, and so many people that had crossed their paths had shown her that. the world was more than what used to worry her - hairstyles, and gossip, and hireable skills, and weight, and so on and so on - that the knowledge of time and space is more than sufficient balm in the absence of the doctor.
“you’ve really no idea how friendship works.” her lips purse into a mockery of a smile, the tightness in her cheeks a keeping pace with the sharpness of her voice. “i know there’s been others, i expect there t’be others. i’m not some terminal ‘pick-me’ like you. d’you think you’re special? you’re not even impressive to this measly little human.” the words are snarled, inevitable as her anger moves to the forefront once more. “after all, what’s your goal, eh? cause some ruckus and wait for someone to clean it up? not much of a different level than a cryin’ child.”
She straightened her spine with Donna’s help, but all her energy feels sapped as she finally allows Donna to know what’s happening. Only a taste, of course, of the trauma in her brain, the near impossible to explain pain that thunders through her skull, too many memories to fit in too small a space, no protection from an influx of - so many years. Fragments drifting, sharp edged, scraping their way into other memories, turning her own thoughts into a kaleidoscope of enimosity.
She almost allows herself to feel - safe, here. With strong Donna, always the campaigner for the little man, be it herself or the Ood, and how proud he had been of her back in the day. How strong, how so very strong to overcome every obstacle in her way. Never the coward, not like the Doctor. She groaned again, another spike of agony, her eye blurring and static and refusing to see in front of her, forcing her to press a hand hard against it again.
“I don’t think there is anything.” she said, voice scraping in her throat. “The damage he’s done, it’s … like overstuffing a sausage casing. It’s all spilling out and there’s no way to keep it in there.” she swallowed hard again, forcing down bile, breathign sharply through her nose.
“I think I just wanted … a mate.” she smiled, shakily, but the memory she called back to caused her shoulders to hunch again as the pain daggered.
The last time she'd seen the Doctor in so much pain was... Had she ever seen her like this before? The only time that comes close to it was when he'd been poisoned at the dinner with Agatha Christie. But he'd known what to do then. He had gone straight into action once he'd known what was happening to himself and she, no questions and all action, had followed his lead. This was not even remotely similar to a simple poisoning.
"There has to be something." Donna's voice is resolute. This sort of deadlocked acceptance wasn't something that Donna liked to dwaddle in. "And as your best mate, I'm not gonna let you expire in my house, of all places." She knows she's a touch telepath, knows that she's not the same person but-- Donna gently combs her fingers through the blonde locks, pushing the hair to one side so she can have an unobstructed view of her face, pained as it is.
There's the Timelord bit inside of her urging her to press against the Doctor's temples. She knows where the contact points are... Even if the technique isn't something she has practice in, she knows what to do. "What if..." her voice is low, measured as she lays her palm to the side of the Doctor's temple, "I took some of it in?"
it might be november 2021 but i’m still pissed that tentoo was able to live happily ever after being a human body with a timelord brain but donna noble couldn’t even with having the exact same setup