#so seeing him as a human again and him knowing clara was dying | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

isagrimorie · 3 years

Text

[initial reactions] Doctor Who - Revolution of the Daleks

TLDR: I liked it! But I do have some nitpicks. But bottom line, I liked it! Especially the exit!

Apologies going in, if it’s rambling and incoherent.

First off, I’m going to get my criticisms out of the way:

- They really need to hire these two people:

a) Sensitivity readers

b) They need to have people of color in charge of casting. Andy Pryor has done a great job casting people but. Since they opened up casting more actors of color to be more diverse... most people in guest roles die. So it ends up being Not A Great Look.

It’s the kind of breezy: We’re hiring more actors of color without really considering the optics of it. Colorblind casting in this way shouldn’t be colorblind. More diversity behind the scenes is needed, especially in casting.

Colorblind casting isn’t representation. Execs have to consider how it looks that a black man is helping create ‘Security Drones’ for the government.

c) I get why Jack Robertson lived, and I’m actually okay with it because I know Chibbs is going somewhere and he’s interconnecting Specials to be their own kind of continuity, so next Special or series we will have Robertson appearing. But I can’t believe the Doctor believed Robertson. Unless she’s really learned from not interfering with politics, but man I wish there’s more vindication to that. I do have a sense of where this is going though, more on that later.

d) I wish they’d gone harder with the Dalek = Police thing.

e) I really kind of wish the Doctor escaped on her own.

And now for my thoughts and the happy!

RYAN! I LOVE RYAN. I LOVE RYAN BEING EMOTIONALLY MATURE AND PUSHING BACK ON THE DOCTOR. It felt... earned that they do and, Ryan’s always been the more hesitant of the three and the more grounded. I love that it’s Ryan that the Doctor confided in, I’ve always felt like Ryan was the one Thirteen connected to the most after Grace died. And I love his development, ever since Battle of Ranskoor Av Kolos Ryan is the first to quote the Doctor back to herself from the guns rule and now here to ‘New can be scary’, reminding the Doctor of her own words.

But also, I love that Ryan felt more connected to Earth, with his friends. Yaz was always the one who looks to the horizon. I like that Ryan pushed back on the smokescreen the Doctor tried to put up. Ryan was tired of the smokescreen. He had 10 months to work on his feelings about it and realized... he liked being home.

I wish we saw more what they were doing at home, like what Chibnall wrote for the Ponds in Power of Three. I did see this was his arc he was building to.

I liked that Graham was torn but eventually his loyalties are with Ryan.

I honestly think the fam thought the Doctor was just gone for a week, her time.

Also: FINALLY A COMPANION EXIT WHERE THEY’RE THE ONES WHO WALK AWAY. And because it’s time.

NO MORE TRAPPED IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE OR DYING OR BEING CONVERTED PLEASE. Anyway, that is why I was vindicated because I was getting pretty antsy at all the twitter posts almost gleeful at the thought of companion death.

Nope. No more please. No more world ending, universe ending, heartbreaking ends. I want a Jo Grant walk away, and that is what happened. (Er, I hope we don’t get a Tegan leaving from Yaz, though. Sad and disillusioned walk away).

Yaz. Oh, dear, Yaz, who seems to have tossed her career away running after the Doctor’s shining star. I loved her conversation with Jack, he was a nice contrast and sounding board. Also, Jack was much kinder to the Doctor because they didn’t miss each other, the Doctor (according to RTD’s retcon) deliberately left Jack on Satellite Five.

Yaz is willing to run and jump without looking because of the Doctor and I love that we got her feelings about this.

And, of course, the Doctor. The moment Ryan said she missed 10 months, I felt she knew the clock was ticking on her ‘fam’. She’s trying to be good to them and do right by them.

(The Doctor knows Ryan’s ready to leave, she knew it. She’s trying to be in denial about it. But she knows).

It’s a small detail but when she processed the ‘ten months’ bit, she quickly looked to Ryan. Because if it’s one of the subtext things around is that she wanted to be a better father to Ryan than his real dad. But she still skipped out on him unknowingly.

The way he just brushed it off, because the worst part is. Ryan is used to it.

It’s sad that the Doctor opening up to the fam was brought on after a decades’ long solitary, and probably a promise to be better. But, she calculated wrong, or the TARDIS deliberately chose to go to that time. Whatever the case, just when she’s opening up to them is when Ryan decided his time with the Doctor was at an end.

God, the moment when Thirteen said: “Mostly... angry.”

I felt this. hard.

I think it was @ssaalexblake who mentioned that Thirteen acknowledging she’s angry might help with all of Thirteen’s repressed anger issues. And I think these are baby steps towards that.

She’s actually been so angry for so long, but she kept pushing it down. Like I said, Thirteen, in a way, reminds me of Raylan Givens of Justified. People think he’s mild mannered, but as his ex-wife amicably opined, Raylan was the angriest man she knew.

And I feel this for this Doctor but at least, now she’s addressing it. The first step in fixing a problem, is identifying the problem.

This was made in 2019. Thirteen being in a repeating lockdown felt very 2020 to me. The things that made me go: Oof, was the Harry Potter thing, the Doctor’s always loved HP. Unfortunately it’s post-2020 hindsight where we go: whoof.

I love Thirteen still mouthing off and being obnoxious towards other Doctor Who baddies. The Weeping Angel thing is cool and so are the Silents. BUT ALSO THE DOCTOR CALLED THE P’TING TINY! AND SHE TRIED TO EAT THE PRISON BARS.

And then, of course, being more obnoxious with the Daleks. It’s pretty clear the difference in rawness of the Doctor’s feelings for the Daleks and the Cybermen. The Daleks’s an old ember. Her feelings for them are ice cold. A purity of feeling. The Daleks are evil and she has no compunction on killing them, the Cybermen? More personal and a raw nerve.

She’s willing to be cold towards the Daleks.

I really like that Yaz has more skin in the game, and she knows what she can lose now. And after her talking with Jack, after seeing his perspective on it, and from his words knows that sometimes the Doctor just disappears from people’s lives.

And I love the pushback:

Skewered.

But true because she is trying to stay still and be with the fam and not leave them. But the unfortunate truth is, the Doctor does run away, and the Doctor does leave people behind and a lot of the times, the Doctor doesn’t come back because they’re an emotional coward.

The thing about Thirteen is she’s probably the longest of the Doctors to not disappoint her companions. She’s always managed to stop bad guys and always been there for them. It’s an impressive track record for the Doctor. She’s built herself up in their eyes as someone they can rely on, and then she failed them by not getting back to them in time.

It’s not her fault, and none of them know how long it’s been for the Doctor, by the way she’s asked them I feel like they think she’s only been gone for a week.

Honestly, I’m impressed how the Doctor didn’t make it about her -- being in prison for longer than they thought. She’s looking at it from their point of view, because she already knows what big leaps in time would affect her friends.

TBH Revolution of the Daleks felt like shades of Last Christmas in that the Doctor regretted missing out time with her companion/s. In Last Christmas, the Doctor got his time back with Clara, in RotD, time passed.

Back to the Doctor and the Daleks tho.

This reminded of Twelve’s: “You are monsters. That is the role you seem determined to play. So it seems I must play mine. The Man that stops the Monsters.”

(Look, Chibnall’s Moffat references aren’t as sledgehammer, but he does reference a lot of Moffat’s things.).

Except with Thirteen, I’m actually more terrified. Jodie does this thing where her eyes goes black and she kind of disappears into herself, this is what happened here. This promise isn’t actually good IMO.

This is not a comforting face. This is a ‘I’m gonna kill a whole boatload of Daleks face and I’m not sorry, in fact I might enjoy doing that’ face.

(And, a brief aside to Robertson, I feel like the Specials have their own kind of special ‘movie’ continuity and more of his story will play out in the Specials, where hopefully he will get his comeuppance because, to me, I feel that’s where it’s going. This is more groundwork laying.

I don’t like it when the Doctor interferes with Human affairs, especially government -- because look what happened with Harriet Jones and how the Doctor broke the Golden Age. Also, I don’t want real world leaders to exist in the Whoverse because I want them to have a completely different track from us. So. Yeah, New Year’s Specials have their ongoing storyline. I’m actually not mad about it, and I enjoy Mr. Big’s performance. He’s a sleezeball. A sleezeball that knows more now. (He isn’t T rump but he isn’t better either). At least I find him enjoyable and not outright offensive. I’m okay seeing him again for the next Specials. I hope next time he does get his comeuppance.)

Now, the goodbyes:

The HUG.

We’ve been waiting for the Doctor to be more physically affectionate with the fam, and it took the Doctor being locked down for decades (maybe?), and Ryan and Graham leaving for her to hug them. And we’re all right, Thirteen gives great hugs.

The feeling Thirteen’s been running away from is here, sadness. It’s good that Yaz decided to stay other wise... she’s just going to run headlong into forgetting her problems, Doctor Style.

And again, learning and re-learning things: ‘It’s okay to be sad.’

Oh, Thirteen.

(Before Twelve, I don’t think I was this sympathetic to the Doctor -- no wait, I was with Nine. Ten and Eleven tested my patience but it’s with Twelve and Thirteen where I’m 100% invested in the Doctor.

I also love that they’re kind of soft touching the Timeless Child thing, and as someone on twitter mentioned, this feels like an examination of an adoption story. The Doctor is going to search for their identity, their home).

I honestly wish Jack stayed in the TARDIS with Thirteen and Yaz. Jack’s a great balance, especially pushing back at the Doctor and her tactics. Her NUCLEAR tactics. I am glad that the Doctor’s still a dick to Jack, not much of an asshole as they were when the Doctor was Ten but still a dick.

Also, one thing I really love about Barrowman is that when he’s in Doctor Who, he knows it’s not his show and he doesn’t showboat, and the man can showboat.

I’d rather Jack than random guy that I didn’t even know was gonna happen until very late.

Anyway, TLDR to all this: I enjoyed this very much! Still a lot to be parsed through in things that needs to be parsed through as I mentioned, but on the whole? I loved it.

#doctor who #doctor who spoilers #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #ryan sinclair #graham o'brien #jack harkness #revolution of the daleks #initial reactions #long post #rambling and incoherent

201 notes · View notes

mythofcthuloren · 2 years

Text

one good movie kiss - chapter one

summary: Just how important memories are.

or: The Doctor visits the one who frowned him his face.

no warnings. Posted on AO3.

a/n: This one is just a teaser, but I promise I'll continue exploring this plot bunny. For now, here's a self-reflection on the Doctor's side. The decision to perform one last miracle.

He should be dying. Actually, scratch that. He is dying. He should be dead. And if not dead, he should be someone else already. Entirely. I mean, he decided that, and accepted that. He had said his goodbyes and everything, there was nothing left for him to do.

Still… something wouldn’t allow him to leave just yet.

Maybe it was the humming on the Tardis’ interior, or the way he could just barely see his reflection on the glass, but he couldn’t fathom the idea of leaving without doing… something? He wasn’t really sure, but there was an idea forming on the back of his brain, and that rarely bode to good things, as it is.

Pressing some buttons, pushing some levers, punching some words in the computer. Same old routine and the Doctor managed to catch his reflection on the reflective metal on the dashboard once more.

This time, though, he focused. He saw himself instead of just looking. The blue eyes, strong brows, wrinkles deepening with each passing tragedy on his life, an almost permanent frown marring his features. Oh.

Oh.

The frown.

That goddamn frown on that goddamn face. He knew it.

And goddamned not-Bill as well for reminding them.

What was it with humans always holding him to his promises and his words and not letting him be a liar?

In fairness, Bill couldn’t possibly know what she was talking about when waxing poetic about memories, and neither did Clara when erasing his.

The Doctor supposed he couldn’t really blame her, after all. He did the exact same thing with Donna all those years ago.

Gods… how many years exactly?

He spins the Tardis back into the time vortex and sits down on the stairs. He contemplates.

That Doctor, with his good looks and crazy hair, was so young. Naive, even. He hadn’t gone through losing Gallifrey again, hadn’t even properly met River. Of course he’d make mistakes. Big ones, stupid ones - like letting his metacrisis on a parallel universe when he could just. Not do that, not give Rose a second-best version of himself, not separate Donna and the metacrisis when they really were two sides of the same coin, weren’t they?

Perhaps, by separating them, he had doomed both of them to a painful death.

No. Instead of keeping them both together, he shipped the off-putting metacrisis to a god-forsaken beach and… erased his best friend’s memory for all eternity.

The frown deepened. The Doctor had never forgotten Donna, though. She always kept him to his promise, even when he chose to forget it. Frowning his face, appearing as a hologram, her words echoing on his mind.

And yes, maybe he’d done some not-so-good things using her words, but she did always tell him to be kind, to save someone.

In the end, he didn’t save her.

Another “oh”. Louder, brighter.

He shifts his eyes to a lonely glass ball on the pilot’s chair. Almost transparent, shifting in the light just so he could see all the colors inside it. Just like Donna’s eyes.

He should be dead, yes, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have the time to save just one more person.

The universe could damn well open one last exception. Especially if it was to save the most important woman alive.

#doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #twelfth doctor #donna noble #doctor donna #cross posted on ao3

5 notes · View notes

julemmaes · 3 years

Note

Thoughts on Thomas and Alastair reading red white and Royal blue together in modern AU.

uhm yES PLEASE

This contains spoilers for Red, White and Royal Blue. Enjoy!

Imagine them in bed right after dinner cause they're one of those couples who ditch their friends to read

Thomas coming back home with this book Matthew and Cordelia have been ranting about for the past weeks

And Alastair is weirded out by the fact that he has two copies, "Why would you buy two?"

Thomas just shrugs, "I didn't. Cordelia gave me hers, cause she told me you'd spoil anything the second you read it."

They settle in bed and Alastair waits until Thomas is ten pages in to start his, cause Cordelia wasn't wrong about him spoiling everything

Thomas is a calm reader, only crying when you're supposed to cry and reading a book without having to talk about it for the rest of your life

Alastair is the complete opposite

He frowns and screams at the books and always goes to Thomas to make him read single sentences before starting to rant about what fucked up shit the characters are doing

Thomas usually doesn't understand anything of what he says, but he also stops doing whatever he's doing, focusing all his attention on Alastair until he just storms out of the room to continue reading the book

Alastair is also a ugly crier when it comes to books

And a thrower

He once hit Thomas by mistake and it was because of a character's death. Imagine his guilt just adding to his grief and picture a very distraught Alastair while he's being coddled by his boyfriend

Alastair has laughed and chuckled way too many times in Thomas' opinion, but hasn't commented on anything yet

Until, "Oh my sweet jesus, bOY YOUR GAY IS SHOWING."

Thomas has to laugh at that and turns towards him, "What happened?"

Alastair is shaking his head in disbelief, "Alex is hating Henry with every fiber of his body one page and then he's brushing his posters the next? He's dumb."

"He reminds me of someone." he mutters

Alastair ignores him

"I'm living for Henry calling Alex out on his shit behaviour." Alastair whispers at some point, with a large smile on his face

Something hits Thomas on the leg and when he looks up he notices Alastair with his eyes and mouth wide, "The cAKE!"

"Homoerotic frat bro mishap - gotta love this woman."

"Tom," he calls him, "have you ever hate-read my wikipedia page?"

"You don't have a wik-"

"But, honestly, who does he think he's fooling? This boy is dumb dumb." He laughs, "Mad stupid."

From time to time Thomas just hears "Stan Zahra." or "Stan Ellen." and he just smiles

At some point Alastair just screams-laughs and goes "I'm going to thROW UP ON YOU, I'M DYING." before falling silent again without any trace of amusement seconds later

Thomas is startled when Alastair screech, "BABYY!"

"What?"

"ALEX IS SAYING HENRY'S SKIN IS SOFT."

Thomas is enjoying the book just as much, but he can't wait for the moment when they both realise they like each other, so he just keeps reading

"Alex was fAST starting to see Henry as a human being and not some kind of monster."

"Oh my god, why is Alex being such a dickhead-"

After a few minutes of silence, Alastair gasps, bringing his book higher and buring his face between the pages before screeching again.

"WHAT'S GOING OOON?"

Thomas snorts with wide eyes

"HE'S CHECKING FOR HENRY'S TEXTS!!!"

After a while, Alastair turns to Thomas, brushing his arm, "Are you liking it?"

He nods, "I like the fact that Henry uses capitals at the beginning of his texts while Alex doesn't, it's the little things."

During The Turkey Scene™️ Alastair just loses it and Thomas has to stop reading to calm him down

"Oh god Tom fucking finally-" he turns to Thomas, "Henry looks fucking rested for once."

Thomas nods again, "And Alex noticed."

That makes a wide grin spread over Alastair's face

Thomas understands he's reached the New Year's Eve when all he can hear from Alastair are gasps and curses

"NO. NONONO. NOO!" Alastair hits Thomas on the arm, "Alex just kissed Nora and Henry ran away."

Thomas smirks, "Just keep reading."

"THEY'RE KISSING. GOD YES. THEY'RE KISSING."

"NOOOOO!" Alastairs screams, "WHY DID HE LEAVE WTF?!?!"

"Thomas I'm breaking up with you if you don't tell me now this is gonna be fixed somehow in the next three pages."

Thomas just clicks his tongue, shaking his head

"Wha-" Alastair just huffs a laugh. He turns to Thomas, pointing to the book, "Baby have you read this? Alex is- He thinks he's what now?" He's straight up laughing now, "Straight?!"

"He did what with Liam?"

"This is literally the gayest shit I've ever read in my life."

"Nah ha, I don't believe it."

"How can he think he's straight?"

"Oh god they watched porn together- HE JERKED HIM OFF."

Alastair just hits his head against the headboard, "I didn't think I'd have to go through the who the fuck am I in this book. I THOUGHT IT WAS PRETTY CLEAR JUST BY THE FACT THAT HE FUCKING CARESSED HENRY'S POSTERS."

"AND THEN THIS NEVERENDING LIST OF GAY THINGS."

Alastair panicked for a short time when Henry was seen with that blonde but started screeching again after a moment

Thomas bursts into laughter when he heard Alastair mutters God save the Queen

"'I want you on the bed.' OH JESUS CHRIST THOMAS IT'S US."

"Tom?"

Thomas turns when he hears the hesitancy in his boyfriend's voice. Alastair's face is red and he's biting his lower lip

"You okay? What part are you reading?"

"No, uhm," Alastair scratches his head, "can we -" he clears his voice, "Can we make out?"

Thomas blinks a couple of times, "Sure."

A heavy make out session ensues before they both can start reading again

"We need to buy cupcakes tomorrow." Alastair mutters at some point, chewing on his lip

"Thomas this fucking book is the best thing I've ever read. I'm loving it so much."

Alastair closes the book around midnight, but Thomas knows he's not finished. He doesn't look his way thinking he's just gonna go to the bathroom

When Thomas senses him move around on the sheets and lay his head on hip lap, he closes the book too and look down at his boyfriend

"What's going on? We just made out."

Alastair grunts in his legs and looks up at him, "You're my match."

Thomas doesn't understand, but he smiles and leans down to kiss him

He resumes reading and realises Alastair had read more than him when he reaches Alex's and Ellen's conversation about matches. Thomas looks at Alastair once again and pesters him with kisses

It's around 3am when Alastair starts yawning

"Alas, you should go to bed."

He shakes his head, "No, I'm not tired, I wanna finish the book."

"The book will be here tomorrow."

"I don't care."

He drops the fight, knowing perfectly fine that he'll never win this

Alastair can be quite impressive when he finds something he likes - especially when it's books

"Fucking homophobes."

"I'm gonna riot if somebody doesn't let Alex call Henry right the fuck now."

"HENRY ASKED ALEX IF HE IS OKAY? BABY WE'RE WORRIED ABOUT YOU."

The end of the book is read so fast that Thomas can't keep up with him and is now more than 20 pages back

Alastair is a crying and screaming mess by the end of it and Thomas has never seen him so upset in their time together

He's just spoiled the whole book for him, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care that it's now 5am and they have work in a couple of hours, cause Alastair just looks his way with wide eyes and his mouth open as if he's just realized something shocking

"Oh my god, did Pez, June and Nora had a threesome in that hotel room?"

tsc tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just send me an ask or dm me)

bold tags don’t work

@storysaremyreality @clara-sm @zoyalinas-nazyalensky @harryscameron @jamescordelias @grxceblqckthxrn @stitchkiss @ahiretsinging @allofmywonders @tremendousheadachecollector @tlh-tea @taco-taco-belle @city-of-fae @ifeelfreewithoutmyshoes @fclklcres @ghostlivvy @matthewwfairchildd @abigneignenn @imherongraystairstrash @rednailpolishqueen @herondamnn @parababitch-herondale @silent-nerd @fairherondale @starryherondales @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @claralady @anne-reads @darkshadowqueensrule

156 notes · View notes

graceloveswolves · 4 years

Text

Insatiable Pt3

Okay so I wasn’t planning on making a part 3 originally but I just love this idea so much so here you guys go!

________________________

Today was the day.

I was standing with my mate Resmond. He had on a suit, and I had worn a red sparkly dress, it stopped above my knees and had a loose and open back, resting against my hips. Clara had picked it out for me, she always had such better taste in clothes then I have had.

“The venue is lovely, kind of a shame we didn’t have a huge wedding don’t you think?” Res had envied, looking around at the snow covered ground, the landscape was breath taking. I looked at the winter wonderland themed wedding, it looked like something out of a movie. Everything was perfectly placed, not a single flaw in the setting.

“No. Our wedding was perfect. It was special.” I disagreed, taking his hand and wrapping it around my shoulders. I stood on my tiptoes, and whispered against his ear.

“But if you want to redo our wedding night I have no complaints here.” I felt him stiffen as he looked down at me, raising his eyebrow with a surprised smirk plastered on his face. “That was very bold of you. Don’t tempt me love, Clara’s been dying to throw another wedding.” He replied, eyeing the curious blonde across the venue, that was talking to Irinia-one of the Denali sisters.

I smiled at the sight, she always was good at making new friends. I let my gaze wander, taking it the different crowds of vampires from around the world. Suddenly I stiffened, my icy heart dropping to the pit of my stomach. I felt as if I was going to puke, which wouldn’t be possible but none the less.

I had accidentally made eye contact with a familiar pixie that I would’ve known anywhere.

“Oh no.” I gasped, dropping my gaze to the ground beneath me as I saw her making her way towards me. Resmond had put two and two together, letting his arm fall from my shoulders and pushing me behind him.

“That’s close enough.” Resmond demanded, however not phasing Alice in the slightest. Then without a single beat, a familiar cowboy had made his presence near Alice.

“Jasper. Alice.” I stated their names, pulling Res back a few steps, as a signal that everything was okay. I felt unusually calm, no doubt in my mind that Jasper had been using his mojo on all of us. “This is my mate, Resmond. Res, this is Alice Cullen and Jasper Hale, they are from my old coven.” I introduced the pair, glad that the tension was slowly fading.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Jasper had politely nodded towards Resmond, who seemed calm and collected now. “Well, Im going to find Clinton. He’s no doubt already in some sort of trouble. I’ll leave you to catch up with your friends. If you need me...” he trailed off, already knowing that I knew the drill.

“Yes, have fun.” I dismissed Resmond, he was not good at making new friends, and I didn’t expect him to want to get to know the family I had left behind. Once he was gone, I had looked at my old sister.

“Well...Aren’t you going to give me a hug?” Alice asked, opening her arms up to me. I smiled, practically jumping into her arms. I had felt such bliss, reuniting with Alice. She had always had such a bubbly and happy personality. Once I had broken from her grasp, I turned to Jasper, who also given me a quick but loving hug.

“How have you guys been? I’m sorry I have been such a stranger. It’s just with everything that happened with...” I couldn’t bring myself to say his name aloud. Thought I already knew I didn’t have to. “We have been good, we have been in Ithaca for awhile. Jasper’s enrolled as a philosophy student and Carlisle works nights.” Alice said, shocking me.

“You left Forks?” I questioned the short pixie in front of me, I wondered if that’s why Carlisle was looking for me. Maybe he didn’t want to leave me behind in case I had decided to come back. But why? They had such a perfect set up in Forks. They should be leaving until another few years. Then the realization had hit me, they must’ve gotten in trouble with the human, why else had they flee from a perfectly normal town.

“Yes. Edward hadn’t wanted to stay there anymore, so we left.” Jasper answered for his mate. I could practically roll my eyes, of course, Carlisle would have done anything for his precious Edward.

Carlisle.

My eyes widened, I turned to Alice, surely she’d seen me ask the questioned I had been dying to ask since I saw her. She looked at me with sympathy, nodding her head.

“Yes. He is here. Over by the river.” Alice responded to the question I hadn’t asked out loud. Suddenly music had started to play, to which I nodded in gratefulness as Jasper pulled her into the dance floor. I smiled at the couple as they started to dance. They had completed each other’s life, it made me happy that nothing has changed between them.

I then gazed over by the river that was a few hundred yards from the venue. There was a few vampires chatting at the tables that had been placed there, however my eyes fell on the one vampire sitting by himself. The blonde vampire was at the edge of the river farthest from the others, sitting in solitude. Or more like waiting. I bet Alice had seen this beforehand. Maybe she even planned it all herself. There was no telling when it came to her.

I was near the river in seconds, deciding to walk the next few yards. I felt the pit in my stomach grow bigger by each step I had taken, growing closer and closer to my creator. I didn’t dare to look up to see if he had taken notice in my figure, I already knew that he probably had. Instead I became very focused on the snow beneath me, watching as I left a shoe print with each step.

Part of me had wanted to turn around and go back to the dance floor, maybe dance with Resmond or Braxton. Chat with Clara, or even with my old siblings in the Cullen clan. But despite all of the anxiety and regret, deep down I had craved seeing Carlisle. I needed to have this talk to him, then I could finally move on. Then I could finally be happy with Resmond.

Once I had gotten to the edge of the river, I had sat down next to Carlisle. I didn’t look at him, I just took in his smell, which I haven’t smelt in over a year. Nor had I been this close to him since the falling out. It was quiet, we just sat and looked at the river in front of us, listening to it flow freely.

I could feel his stare burning into the side of my face. He had been waiting for me to speak, but I was still trying to find the right words to say. I grabbed a fist full of snow that had laid beside me.

Don’t be a coward.

“What a wonderful wedding, don’t you think?” I had finally spoken. Trying to break the silence, hopefully that didn’t sound as stupid as I thought it did. I had finally turned to face him, to which I was right, he had been staring at my face. He seemed somewhat mad when he had met my eyes.

“You never came back.” He responded, making me look back out into the river. He had not felt the need to beat around the bush apparently. Getting straight it the point I guess.

“I didnt see the need. You made it clear that I was never on your list of priorities Carlisle.” I tossed a chunk of snow in the water, watching the ripples fade away as the snow melted into the river.

“You were my very first creation Y/n, I spent the majority of my life with you, you were always one of my top priorities.” He defended himself.

“You certainly had a unique way of showing it. Tell me, what was the real reason you left Forks? Was it because of the human?” I pressed, my way of indirectly telling him I told you so.

“You were right. I am sorry I hadn’t listened to you the first time. But you did not have to disappear, I would have given you your space, you didn’t have to leave me wondering every day whether or not you were even alive.”

“You had Edward, you didn’t need me. And look, I’m still alive.” I gestured to myself, looking back at the man who I spend more then half my exsistence with. He had a pained look on his face, his eyes eyeing me up and down.

“Edward was not my first creation, I did not spend over 200 years with him alone. Did you know how much pain you put me in? I spend every day thinking of ways to get you back. You were mine, and I had lost you. You were the only one I did not worry about leaving, and you did.”

“Well I’m not yours anymore. You couldn’t appreciate what you had while you had it. I found someone else who does, every single night.” I rubbed in, snapping at him.

There was silence between us for a few moments. Carlisle looked like he was thinking, trying to find something to say to defend himself, but even he knew his errors in his treatment towards me. He had sighed, giving up.

“Are you happy?” He had asked me.

“Yes.”

I had responded immediately, I raised my left hand up, flashing him my wedding ring that Resmond had proposed to me.

“ Well I guess that’s all the matters.” Carlisle had said, he had a tint of sadness in his voice.

“What about Esme? Haven’t you two gotten married already?” I brought up his mate. He had refused any intentions of marrying her in the past, but I had secretly knew he loved her, he just didn’t want to upset me.

“We eloped, she is at home with Edward. She didn’t want to leave him, not in his state. He had taken it hard, leaving Bella behind.” Carlisle explained.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about that.” I had given my sorrows to him.

“Thank you.”

Once again we had been left in silence. I debated on saying something, but I had heard footprints behind us.

“Y/n my Love, would you like to dance?” I heard Resmond from behind me.

I looked back at Carlisle, who had smiled softly at me. “Well, I guess it’s finally time to let you live your life. Have a nice life Y/n, go be happy.” Carlisle had gestured to Resmond. I smiled, nodding back at him.

“You too Carlisle. Thank you, for giving me this life.” To which I gave him one last look, before turning around hand in hand with Resmond.

I had felt peace.

I knew deep down it wouldn’t be the last time I saw Carlisle, but I could finally let go of him. I could start my new life with Resmond, who I loved and he loved me back.

And that was all I needed.

#twilight vampires #carlisle cullen requests #carlisle cullen oneshots #carlisle cullen imagine #carlisle cullen x reader angst #carlisle cullen angst #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle x reader #carlisle cullen #twilight x reader #twilight #twilight imagines

611 notes · View notes

viltrumitesuperboy · 4 years

Text

Like Real People Do (Eleventh Doctor x Reader)

Gender neutral. Somewhat inspired by Like Real People Do by Hozier, aka immortal pagan god. The reader dies when they first meet the Doctor, and he seeks them out afterwards. Haha River Song who?

Word count: 2000 (I edited so it would be perfect, that’s right i’m a Writer™)

The Doctor stared at the psychic paper in his hands, the words "HELP, DOCTOR" and coordinates neatly displayed on it. Whoever left him this message had abilities, ones he didn't know about. He didn't like not knowing. So he navigated his TARDIS out of the time vortex to those coordinates and swung open the door to a blaring alarm with a few people panicking in front of him.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor! What seems to be the trouble?" he introduced himself cheerily.

"Doctor! Good, you're finally here. I would kiss you, but rules. Can't do that when we're in danger."

He turned to look at you, completely confused. You were dressed as if you were blending in with the ship's crew. You had clearly established yourself as the leader of the group because they looked at you like you would save them. It was the same way everyone desperately looked to him for answers in any of his life-threatening adventures.

"There is an attack on this ship, and every few minutes the other ship is firing at us. It's leaving holes and breaking the shields. There's not enough power to get them back up completely. I've only put them where they've broken the ship so that we don't lose oxygen. Like patching a hole in your pants but they just keep ripping somewhere else. Don't give me that confused look. Keep up."

"Sorry, ah... who are you?" he asked, following you as you led the group out of the area.

"Seriously? Time travellers. Forget that kissing thing. Anyway, no time to lose. We're going to try and communicate with the other ship because that's what you would do."

"Did you send the message on my paper?"

"Yes, of course. Like I said, keep up."

The other members of the group were questioning both the new person and the current leader of their group, and the Doctor went over a plan of what to say. You all moved forward into a narrow hallway, the Doctor following right behind you. Just then, a loud crack sounded as a shot landed right in front of you, and you cried out as the Doctor tried to grab your hand.

"No!" he shouted.

He wasn't close enough, and you were pulled out of the ship and into empty space against his will. He spotted a pad across the hallway and used his sonic screwdriver on it, bringing the shields back up where you had flown out. The hole was replaced by a dark film that covered the damaged area. It was a small blessing that he didn't have to see someone dying again.

"Who was that?" he demanded.

"We only just met-" began one of the group members.

"A name!"

"(Y/N) (L/N)," said a teenager standing in the back of the group.

"We can't mourn. Let's go."

As usual, the Doctor was able to fix the situation. He made a compromise with the other ship, led the ship with his TARDIS to the closest planet, and gave comfort to those who needed it most with his hundreds of years of wisdom. As he stepped back onto the TARDIS, he felt as though he had lost something. Well, he did. Another person's life. He searched for your name everywhere until he found you. A younger you. He didn't think you were human, but as you went about your every day life, you were blending in with the humans. You weren't wearing the clothing that blended you into the crew, and he liked your personal style. As usual, trouble came along and he was pulling you out of danger just in time.

"Hi, I'm the Doctor. Run!"

You followed him and didn't question him once. And when you followed him into the TARDIS after the threat was gone, you didn't ask about it. He knew you'd make one hell of a companion.

"Time Lord technology. Infinite space in an object," you mumbled, more to yourself.

"You... yes. And you're an empath with a telepathic field, according to the TARDIS's scans," the Doctor responded, and you nodded. "Lonely."

"One of the last of my kind. And so are you," you responded.

There was an understanding between the two of you that seemed to pass. You asked nothing about him, and he asked nothing of you. He didn't know much about your past, just the present you and what you were like. He decided you were one of the most beautiful mysteries in the universe. And for once, the Doctor didn't mind not knowing.

You traveled with him for a long time. He sometimes brought along his best friend Amy Pond and her boyfriend Rory. They became your friends as well. The Doctor would sometimes look at you with pain in his eyes, and Amy would notice. Whenever she asked what was wrong, he would instantly smile and brush it off. It was difficult for him to tell her that he was in love with a person who he already knew would die.

He taught you how to fly the TARDIS. Your smile that day seemed to brighten the room. It was either that or the ship felt the same way that he did about how wonderful your presence was. Your first idea was to bring him to a peaceful planet inhabited by only animals.

"I came here many years before I reached Earth. It's quiet and few know about it," you said.

You pulled him to a small hill to observe the field of flowers and small mammals running about in the grass. You sat down and plucked at the grass beside you.

"One of the few planets that hasn't been destroyed by another civilisation," the Doctor said.

"Oh, no, it does. In the future. Endings bring beginnings. I just liked coming here before that because I was around when other aliens started moving onto this planet. Good for us, you have a time machine, and we can come back here as many times as we want as long as our timelines aren't interfering."

He snorted and placed his hand on top of one of yours, moving it to his lap. He pressed his lips into your palm, and you gave him a small grin as he looked into your eyes. He didn't return it.

"I won't ask, but you always look so sad, Doctor. I wish I could help you."

"You look sad a lot of the time, too," the Doctor accused, "but I'm old. I'm allowed to be sad."

"I'm not as old as you, but I'm also not human. My lifespan could exceed yours and neither of us would know."

He smiled as you laughed, pressing his lips to your hand and keeping it there. Then he told you that he loved you for the first time. He giggled when you returned it, as he usually did when he was excited. There, on that field, he kissed you for the first time. And he realised what a curse it was to love someone dying.

You stayed with him even when he lost Amy and Rory. He let himself feel the pain of losing a companion for once and decided to retire. You joined him, of course. It seemed that he was experiencing many firsts with you around. You joined him as he found his Impossible Girl, who ended up becoming your Impossible Girl. This only became an issue when Clara stepped foot in the TARDIS after a few days of your own adventures, and you both shouted "Impossible Girl" at the same time. You coined her "our Impossible Girl" and the Doctor proceeded to be very mushy and soft with you, to which Clara pretended to gag and walked out of the blue box.

He never took you for granted, as you never did him. Every moment he could, he told you that you were the best thing to ever happen to him. Once in a while, when he was feeling particularly anxious after an adventure, he would face you and put his hands on your cheeks and give you a few words of love. You knew he was afraid of losing you, and you would return his worries with a squeeze of a hand or a kiss.

A day came when you told him you had some business. You entered some information into the TARDIS console and showed it to him.

"We've traveled a lot and I promised some of the people we've met some things. You can just drop me off, pick me back up when I call you," you said.

When he went quiet for a moment after checking the monitor, you started to step towards him. He looked back up to you with a grin on his face and ran around the console, slamming buttons, pulling levers, and sliding around on his boots.

"You need shoes with better traction. I love you, and I'll call you in a bit, okay?"

"(Y/N). My (Y/N)," the Doctor said, his hands now holding the sides of your neck in a gentle caress. "The best thing that has ever happened to me in all the universes. You are the best companion any Time Lord could want, and the best lover any being could ask for. I love you with your strengths and your flaws. I love you more than I could ever imagine. You finish that business, and you do it well."

"Hm. This is hardly the longest I've left you. We had a whole Earth month when I had to be there for a bit. I love you."

"I love you," he whispered back.

He pulled you into an embrace, which you returned automatically. He kissed you and you chuckled, taking the steps out of the TARDIS that would mark your final exit. This was a walk towards your death.

You, with your intelligence. You, with your empathy, no matter how well you showed it. You, with your timer ticking down. You, with both the Doctor's hearts. You, taking the Doctor's love with you.

It would only be a few days for you now, he knew. He put the TARDIS into the time vortex. The love of his life, gone within minutes upon meeting him and dying while trying to save other people. It was a death worthy of a companion and worthy to be his own. He remembered the room you shared. Bunk beds. You hated him for it.

"Doctor, we've been together for hundreds of years! Can you please, for the love of all the universe, tell the TARDIS to change it?"

"You're the empath. You talk to her."

"You're my lover, and she's your ship! Fix it!"

A bit of fiddling with the console redesigned the room. No bunk bed. Of course, you never really minded that much. You knew how much he enjoyed the human invention of a bed with a ladder. He could only laugh sadly, but it was much too early for him to be shedding tears. Perhaps he never would. He hurt and loved all at the same time. He knew the risks he took when he found you all those years ago, and he took them anyway. He never could resist a mystery, and you were his favourite one. He set his course for the first peaceful planet you brought him to, just one last time.

He pulled out the psychic paper. You began and ended your journey with him in just minutes, and began it again when he went back for you all because of the paper. His brows furrowed when he noticed that it wasn't blank like it should have been.

"HELP, DOCTOR"

Coordinates. Just a fraction of a number's difference compared to the first time he saw the same message. An empath with a telepathic field.

This was your call.

"Oh, you're brilliant. You are amazing."

He changed his course, the last lever pulled with the one word that he always used in a time of need.

"Geronimo!"

#x male reader #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x male reader #11th doctor x male reader #eleventh doctor x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #the doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #doctor who imagine #dw imagine #eleventh doctor imagine

377 notes · View notes

gaybarbiegirl · 3 years

Text

00s Barbie Rewatch - The Nutcracker (2001)

Starting off with a banger here

The soundtrack of this movie is so pretty

Am I the only one who finds those baby fairies weird? I don't know, they give me unconfortable vibes

I don't know if this is an unpopular opinion, but I LOVE the storyteller Barbie sequences, and I think it's a shame they didn't keep them up for all of the movies

Seriously, why did they shift to that weird "Barbie is an actress" thing when this felt so much sweeter and more personal, and worked so much better?

Aunt Drosselmeyer's and Clara's relationship >>>>>>

Clara really saw a rat in full body armor sitting on her couch and her reaction was "shoo, shoo"

Oof defeated by a shoe

Ok but what's the story behind that owl? Was she also a human transformed by the Rat King, but instead of trying to turn back she just chills as a clock all day?

HOW does the owl know this much? I need a prequel movie about her, please

The snow fairies' dance sequence looks so gorgeous, just take the baby fairy out of there and it's gonna be perfect

Also, why doesn't the baby fairy have blue skin and hair like the others? And why is she just as tall and twice as wide as the adult fairies?

I'm gonna complain about these baby fairies for the whole movie, I'm sorry

I think flowers should grow out of my footsteps when I walk too. I think I deserve it

Ah yes, the mandatory annoying children arrive

Captain Candy defending Eric and asking about what happened to him 🥺

I love how Clara is smart and realizes the Nutcracker is Eric right away

Also love how the movie realizes that the audience isn't dumb and probably picked this up by now, so instead of making the main twist about Eric they make it about Clara

Mentally I'm here

Oh no, another baby fairy

At least her color scheme sort of matches the adult fairies, but her proportions are even worse than the last one's

THE FLOWER FAIRIES HAVE A CRUSH ON CLARA, I REPEAT, THE FLOWER FAIRIES HAVE A CRUSH ON CLARA

I wanna dance with flower fairies...

This whole movie is just me wishing I was Clara

Clara really gives great pep talks

The Rat king doesn't do much other than mumbling vague threats to himself in his throne room, does he?

Captain Candy defending Eric again without even knowing it 🥺

THAT BABY FAIRY IS GIGANTIC, I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH, IT'S MAKING ME SO UNCONFORTABLE

Why did these rat guards trust a random human girl they've never seen before?

Look at Clara being smart again, good for her

I like how Clara is the one who gives the prince the true love's kiss that saves him, not the other way around

That being said, I liked Eric better as a nutcracker. Seeing him as a human now just feels weird

Clara's transformation, on the other hand, is a 10/10

Captain Candy telling the crowd to cheer for Eric 🥺

YESSS THE DANCES

I'M DYING IS THIS OLD GUY OK?

Wait, wait, wait, this movie actually has a kiss!! Like, on screen!!

How did Eric travel across worlds so fast without the scepter?

Ok but how does this story correlate to learning new dance steps? Like, Clara fought against evil rats in a magical world and found out she was a princess, so I should rehearse my coreography more? What?

Final thoughts:

Mattel REALLY came through with this first movie, and showed they weren't gonna be messing around with this whole 'Barbie movie' thing. I think this movie pretty much embodies some of the best qualities of the Barbie movies: we have a beautiful soundtrack, an enchanting magical world that you genuinely want to explore, a whimsical feel to the whole adventure, a brave, clever, and kind protagonist who takes the lead and saves herself, and a really nice message for the kids watching.

There were some things I didn't like about the movie, of course, like the annoying and unnecessary kids, some adventure sequences that felt like filler and didn't really add a lot to the story, and the baby fairies from hell. But overall, I think this movie was a great way to start the Barbie movie franchise, and I really enjoyed rewatching it.

#barbie #barbie movies #barbie liveblogs #barbie nutcracker

40 notes · View notes

permian-tropos · 3 years

Note

Daniil - Liberosis

Didn’t think this prompt word would become so poignant so soon. The subject matter wound up kind of surreal and taking whatever path I thought might be interesting but sometimes it’s nicer to let other people search for meaning in something.

IDK yeah I just wanted to publish this. Contains canon-typical misery.

Liberosis: The desire to care less about things.

It rains again, always with that damn rain, and inside of each puddle in the street is the reflection of a man with cold eyes. They’re a little bit sardonic, as if the protective cloth tied over his mouth obscures a world-weary smirk. They track movement deliberately, and never dart or flash.

When did this happen? When did his features freeze in place like this? It’s interesting. The last time Dankovsky saw his own reflection, he was burned out like a candle stub.

This is better. You’d rather see a second wind from the Capital doctor on his rounds, a man who cares less and does more, even if what he does isn’t much use to anyone. It’ll give people less reason to panic.

The plague is spreading on the wings of panic. That’s why the patrolmen show no mercy to the sick, those shambling mummies, when they stray into the streets.

Dankovsky never gave such an order. The man in the puddle wears his intentions well: But I wouldn’t countermand it.

When you think about it, the only way to fight the plague is to resist your natural human desire to seek help, or even the comforting touch of another; instead you must succumb in solitude, to save others.

The nature of epidemics really is to target the most precious aspects of our being…

“What do I do? What do I do? I’m lost…”

Dankovsky first expects that wheedling voice to come from a child, but it’s too knowing, like it’s playing a game.

Sometimes they’re called mimes, but they talk too much. They’re more amused by the circumstances than the name Tragedian suggests. Subconsciously, Dankovsky has gotten into the habit of treating them as if there is not a human under that patchwork black cloth, but paper stuffing, or an animated wire frame. They’re an oddly useless counterpart to the orderlies, and they certainly don’t answer to the Bachelor.

“One of you?” he sighs, backing up a few steps. “What do you want from me this time…? Get it over with.”

The masked man dawdling under the streetlamp tips its head slowly one way, then the other. “His Excellency thinks I spoke to him?”

“I’m the only one on the street. Unless you’re raving, in which case I have no time for lunatics.”

“How cruel. In any case… I’ve lost my mask.” The Tragedian shields its eye-holes from the rain with a hand, and looked far and wide.

“It’s right on your head,” Dankovsky grouses. “Now what’s my reward for finding it, a bag of marbles? Or wait, you’ve lost those too.”

“Oh, no, not this. This is my face. You see how blank and plain it is? It wants a character, a role to play. A mask, a mask.”

Dankovsky folds his arms. “What about playing a man who doesn’t leave his house… wherever he comes from, his burrow, his den, and doesn’t get himself into trouble?”

The Tragedian offers an apologetic shrug and spread palms. “I tried it but alas, it weren’t for me. I didn’t know my lines, and came too late…”

The Bachelor mutters, “You’ll be a dog soon – playing dead.”

“I’ve lost a mask of careless cruelty… I think it would be fun to wear a while. It grins at simple victories and doesn’t shed a tear for those less fortunate. I’d like to be the one who laughs in Hell…”

“Fine, I’ll look for something like that… I suppose.” It wasn’t the first bizarre request he’d taken, and been able to fulfill despite not understanding it at first. Whatever the Tragedian was looking for, it would turn up eventually.

Now the Tragedian was clasping its hands together, pleading. It was remarkably expressive for having, as it said, such a blank face. “But if perhaps you’d let me borrow yours…”

“That’s completely unsanitary.” What kind of idiot request was that?

“I mean the one behind the cloth, the visage that regards the world so icily…”

The Tragedian pokes an impudent, spidery finger right between the Bachelor’s eyebrows, which pinch together in great chagrin.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at… but I get the impression you’re not asking for a real object.” He slaps the finger away. “If you want to wear my face, playact all you like. Just don’t impersonate me to anyone important, or use my name for any stupid ventures. Or you’ll regret it.”

Dankovsky leaves the actor to mime out his gratitude, head fervently bowing, clasped hands pumping up and down. He’d expected to get something out of this exchange, but perhaps it’s a longer-term investment. Or it’ll be quite the farce when the thespian starts wandering around the town pretending to be him. He’s not sure what he’s given away.

Signal fires mark the start of an infected district. He tightens the cloth around his mouth and nose and rushes in. There’s one house in particular he has to visit, so he very much intends to keep his head down all the way there.

His ears are assaulted by wails of the dying, carried far even by stagnant windless air.

At first he doesn’t understand why his skin is prickling. Senseless paranoia.

I gave away my mask…

It doesn’t mean anything!

But something’s changed in him for sure.

Even though it’s illogical, he’s shivering like ice has been poured down his shirt.

His eyes catch movement and he jolts away at first, because he’s learned to flee whenever a human shape stumbles across his path in districts like these. One filthy touch from any of these walking corpses could pass on the infection.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t come near me…”

“Help us…” the mummy gabbles. It’s sobbing under the linen wraps, but those cries might be of relief as well as pain. “Please, please, you’ve got to help us… I’ve been looking all over for a doctor… You’ve got pills, haven’t you? Kind sir… spare us something… even just a sleeping draught…”

Dankovsky should be fleeing, and he’s frozen instead. He should do the compassionate thing and put a bullet through this faceless cloth-wrapped head, and he cannot. He has the unsettling thought he would rather turn the gun on himself.

The supplicant takes his inaction as permission. Its hand has seized him and is crawling up his forearm, creeping as surely as a mold on a wall.

“There must be something…” the infected one pleads. “If only to… I just wanted to… oh, but it’s so… my head’s spinning… I can hardly hear myself, can you hear me? Am I speaking? Are you there?”

More dying souls are shambling out of the alleys and either they can smell healthy skin like sharks smell blood or they’re spotting him through the gauze over their eyes and immediately recognizing him. Two have emerged from behind one building… a third and fourth from a park…

The dead come to drag him down into the earth. Rain pours down his cheeks.

“Hey!”

There’s someone behind him, shouting, but he doesn’t realize it’s directed at him until—

“What do you think you’re doing, dummy? Dummy Dankovsky!”

“Hah?” He’s unstuck when that strident childish voice pierces his ears through the white noise.

In comes charging none other than the wandering saint girl, shoes pattering and splashing through the sodden pavement. She spreads her palms out like she’s pushing out a great wave of force from them, some kind of heavenly wind, and even though no immediate magic goes off with a theatrical bang and puff of smoke, the sickened townsperson withdraws.

Clara catches Dankovsky’s arm. Her grip is mighty steel.

“You didn’t think you could heal them with your touch, did you?” Her tone is either mocking or heartachingly sincere. She’s too peculiar to ever be one thing or another, so maybe it’s both. “Don’t… don’t get those funny ideas into your head, okay? You’ll make people worry about you…”

Of course he finds her words ironic, but not surprising. It’s the usual way that young people parrot the things they’ve been told by others, as a way of expressing concern.

Especially ironic now that she’s extending her free hand towards the bandaged wretch, with a strained but beatific smile, flashing white teeth. Her fingers unfurl, flexing, preparing for an incredible sleight-of-hand.

“Don’t be scared,” coaxes the Changeling. “I’ll take care of you!”

“Careful—!” the Bachelor croaks, voice stolen by panic. But he still waits with bated breath, wondering if he’s about to witness a miracle.

But as soon as Clara’s palm brushes the gauze-wrapped fingertips, the infected person’s hands turn to claws. They gasp and clutch their chest, rocking on their heels, head bobbing.

It’s almost as if they’re trying to express a profound devotion and love that cannot fit inside them. Then they exhale without a word, collapsing in a heap, like a thread over their head has been snipped.

Clara’s smile shrinks by millimeters. Water droplets slide off it, dropping from the corners of her lips.

“Why…?” Her query is a quiet chime, a small tolling bell.

“Leave it, leave it. It was a myocardial infarction,” Dankovsky mutters. “Plainly, a heart attack. It’s usual for them to die like this in the end… Perhaps they were startled by us… Overwhelmed by a moment of hope.”

“I thought I was the one who healed…” the girl says, eyes fogged with confusion. “I mixed it up… Even we can’t tell us apart anymore…?”

Damn this… The girl’s delusions are only going to worsen now. Whoever’s been letting her roam about without supervision needs to rethink their priorities. She used to irritate Dankovsky with her proud preaching, and he was afraid she’d be able to stir the town’s population into a fervor. They come out of their homes in search of her sometimes.

Still, it’s possible she’s been witnessing frightening things for days — or longer? who knows where she came from or what she’s suffered to be without a family now — and has convinced herself she must have a purpose. Whose mind doesn’t falter like that in the face of an insane world?

The Bachelor doesn’t think he’s nearly as paternal as his rough-and-tumble counterpart, the favorite of the orphan underclass, Burakh. But Burakh’s not here right now.

Dankovsky slings a strict enclosing arm around Clara’s shoulders.

“You didn’t do it, Clara…” he commands her to believe, as his heart keeps minutely panging in that new way that he’s not accustomed to. “Don’t think about it. Pull that ratty scarf over your mouth and nose and keep moving.”

She’s stumbling after him, reluctantly keeping apace. “But can’t you see I’m not her…?”

“Whoever you are, I don’t care,” Dankovsky mutters. He stares only ahead, at the distant waterlogged signal pyre marking the invisible border between poison and safety.

#my fics #pathologic #daniil dankovsky #clara saburova #tragedian (pathologic)

27 notes · View notes

purrincess-chat · 3 years

Text

Cat’s Not-All-Encompassing Character Ranking

Okay, so I have to admit that I omitted a lot of characters I don't have strong opinions on. Most of them were one-off akumas, so don't get your panties in a twist, your faves are probably still on here (and ranked lower than you think).

As a preface again, these are just my personal opinions. They can't hurt you. You can still like characters more or less than me. And I don't care how you feel about them. This list is for me. And the person that asked for it. So shut up. Go make your own rank list if you’re so butthurt.

We're going in reverse order this time, starting from the bottom:

84. Gabriel Agreste- I mean, is anyone surprised? I am not private about how I think Gabriel should go to jail. Or fall off a cliff. Or be erased from existence. Rip to those that like him, but I’m different.

83. Thomas Astruc- Honestly, he’s down here on principle. Self-inserts are generally a no-no, and I just laugh every time I see him on screen because he really put himself in this show and said boohoo no one appreciates me XD

82. Bob Roth- I feel like this one should also be obvious. He’s just a dick. Terrible human. I give him 0 stars.

81. Tomoe Tsurugi- We all collectively hate her, right? It’s not just me?

80. Su Han- This mans has small peepee energy. And he bad mouthed Fu, so get FUCKED, my dude.

79. Rolland Dupain- Listen, I get it, he liked Marinette in the end, but I could do without the racism.

78. Nathalie Sancoeur- My opinion of Nathalie took a nosedive after the s2 finale. I just do not care that she is in love with her boss. Don’t care that she’s dying. Just do not have it in me.

77. XY- Justin Bieber ass wannabe.

76. Nora Cesiare- I didn’t care for Nora. I know Thomas loves her, but the overbearing sibling trope is tired.

75. Anarka Couffaine- I underestimated how much I don’t really like her. Like, it’s not full-on hate, but I just do not care for her.

74. Otis Cesaire- Got akumatized because a kid said he could outrun a panther. I’m still not over it, Otis.

73. Andre Bourgeois- No love for the crooked mayor. I hope your wife divorces you.

72. Alec Cataldi- The real villain of Stormy Weather. Like fr why is he such an asshole?

71. Roger Raincomprix- Is Officer Roger just doing his best? Sometimes. But like sometimes this mans just needs to take a chill pill.

70. M. D'Argencourt- Please get out of the 1600s

69. Ella/Etta- These two are basically the same character, and I am indifferent to both of them.

68. KnightOwl/Barbara- Listen, I would have liked you more if you were less controlling.

67. Majestia- Same as above, but like I guess I like you more

66. Theo- *Mean Girls principal voice* Stay away from underaged girls!

65. Andre the ice cream man- I just want a scoop of chocolate, Andre. Is that too much to ask??

64. Amelie Graham de Vanily- We haven’t seen much of her, but she seems like a snake bitch.

63. M. Kubdel- I mean, if my son wanted to resurrect an ancient mummy and believed in aliens, I’d give the family heirloom to my daughter too.

62. Jalil Kubdel- Lolol, buddy, pal, dude, my guy. Chill.

61. Vincent (Adrien's photographer)- Head empty. Mom’s spaghetti. Idk he’s alright.

60. Manon- I don’t hate Manon. She just gets on my nerves every time she talks.

59. M. Ramier- This mans got akumatized a billion times because he gets emotional about pigeons. I mean, honestly mood.

58. Mme. Mendeleiev- She doesn’t put up with Chloe’s shit, and we respect her for this.

57. Baby August- Someone just give this mans some food. He’s a growing boy.

56. Santa Claus- If I were Santa, I too would list Ladybug as the best kid in the world.

55. Art Teacher- He doesn’t even have a name, but I vibe with him. He seems like he likes to paint scenes of nature with his pet squirrels.

54. Prince Ali- Lil mans just wanted to have a good time. I can respect that.

53. Duusu- Duusu, I get that your Miraculous was broken, but get with the program, girl. You is a hostage.

52. Other Kwamis- Idk, all the ones we haven’t seen as much. I don’t have real opinions on them yet. Just neutral.

51. Sass- He gives me dad vibes.

50. M. Damocles- You go, you funky owl man

49. Jean (Chloe's Butler)- He deserves a raise. What is your name, sir? We may never know.

48. Mireille Caquet- She’s pretty cute. No complaints.

47. Aurore Beaureal- Baby’s first akuma. I love her design. She’s a cutie.

46. Claudie Kante (Max’s mom)- This womans just wanted to go to space and live her dream. We stan a hardworking queen.

45. Hot Dog Dan- I like him more than Andre the ice cream fraud. Sure, my hotdog might turn me purple, but if I ask for chili on it, I bet he’d oblige.

44. Nadja Chamack- I mean, she’s doing her best.

43. Audrey Bourgeois- So, as I said in the episode ranking, I have a love-hate relationship with Audrey. She’s the worst, but that’s why I love her. I love her ironically. Like, yeah she’s atrocious, but I just want to watch her burn the world.

42. Luka Couffaine- Directly in the middle, like he’s always been.

41. Nathaniel Kurtzberg- My opinion of Nath improved after Reverser surprisingly. I ship it.

40. Chris Lahiffe- I like Chris better than Ella/Etta. He’s just a little mans out here living life wanting to grow up. Don’t believe it, Chris. Stay little forever. Being an adult suuuuucks.

39. Fang the Crocodile- The goodest boy.

38. Nooroo- I just want to give him a hug.

37. Mlle. Bustier- She’s doing her best, but I mean, when ya whole class keeps getting turned into supervillains, I’m surprised she’s not an alcoholic.

36. Penny Rolling- I just like her. I think she’s neat.

35. Ondine- Mermaid queen! She’s so sweet, and I love her with Kim. I hope we see more of her in the future.

34. Marc Anciel- Marc is a little cutie bean. Idc if he’s based off one of Thomas’s irl friends. He can stay.

33. Wayzz- He loves Master Fu so much I cry.

32. Felix Graham de Vanily- I know everyone hates canon Felix, but tbh he exudes massive chaotic neutral gremlin energy, and I actually kinda vibe with that. And he pisses with his uncle which is a whole ass mood.

31. Tikki- Tikki is very cute, but bby please work on the preaching. You don’t always know what’s right, babe.

30. Sabrina Raincomprix- Sabrina deserves better. I hope we see good things happen for her.

29. Lila Rossi- Surprised? I actually like Lila. The first fic I ever wrote for this fandom was a Lila redemption. I think she is a good antagonist and foil to Marinette. I absolutely want to see her get dunked on in canon, but that doesn’t mean I hate her.

28. Wayhem- I don’t know why, but Wayhem makes me laugh. I love him XD

27. Uncle Cheng- He’s just a good mans with a birb who wants to make you tasty food. What’s not to like?

26. Trixx- Trixx shot up after GoS. Chaotic bean make Eiffel Tower go bendy

25. Jess- She’s pretty cool. She’s a vibe.

24. Aeon- The cutest bean!!! She saw Adrien and Marinette and said yep. Those two are meant to be together. Jess, we gotta make it happen.

23. Ivan Bruel- Ivan is such a gentle bean. We love him.

22. Mylene Haprele- Smol

21. Fei Wu- I still have not watched the Shanghai special with subs, but I liked her.

20. Gina Dupain- The grandma I aspire to be.

19. Marianne Lenoir- I love her. She is good. She and Fu are so cute. And she seems like she would have kicked le ass back in the day. (and even now)

18. Rose Lavillant- I am so excited for Pigella!! Rose is too cute. We love her.

17. Gorilla- aka Adrien’s real dad. If the series doesn’t end with Gabriel getting yeeted into the stratosphere and Gorilla adopting Adrien, I don’t want it.

16. Clara Nightingale- She’s in love with Marinette. You can’t change my mind. 16 is also how old I hc her to be, so don’t nobody come for me.

15. Tom Dupain- Most. Supportive. Dad. Soft bean. Just wants to make you fresh bread.

14. Sabine Cheng- Good mom vibes. We love to see her.

13. Juleka Couffaine- Shy goth bean. Just wants to have her picture taken. Definitely a lesbian. We stan.

12. Nino Lahiffe- The goodest boy. He’s just out here doing his best, loving his friends.

11. Chloe Bourgeois- Chloe is another one I have a love-hate relationship with. Her brattiness is funny to me. We had high hopes for her. Honestly, she ranks this high because I like to play with her in fic.

10. Max Kante- He smol and smort. And I adore his friendship with Kim and the fact that he made an AI himself at 14. What a legend.

9. Alya Cesaire- Rip to Alya salters, but I’m different. Outside of Chameleon, Alya is fine. She’s a supportive bff. All yall people that are mad she doesn’t kiss Marinette’s ass all the time need to go out and make real friends. I said what I said.

8. Alix Kubdel- I love Alix. I love how she is always so done with all the lovey-dovey bullshit. She is tiny queen, and Bunnix, while OP af, is still super cool. We love to see her.

7. Kagami Tsurugi- I will fight anyone who shits on Kagami. She has done nothing wrong, you guys are just haters. All she did was exist, and yall said, wow what a toxic bitch?? Disgraceful.

6. Jagged Stone- We are going to ignore the deadbeat dad trope that canon thrust upon him. He is a Marinette stan, and we love that.

5. Kim Le Chien- I really love Kim, you guys. Does that surprise you? Listen, my favorite male character types are sweet beans and himbos. Kim is both of these.

4. Master Fu- If you didn’t pick up on how much I love Fu from the episodes ranking, then idk what to tell you. I want him to be my grandpa. I would trust this mans with my life. He did his best. You paint those pictures, you funky little man. I love you.

3. Plagg- My galaxy trash man. Love him. 10/10 chefs kisses all around.

2. Adrien Agreste- The biggest Marinette stan there is. I just want him to kiss her on the face. And marry her. Idk, I just think that would be neat if he could do that. I just want good things for them.

1. Marinette Dupain-Cheng- Honestly, are you surprised? I have always been and always will be a Marinette stan. If you expected anyone else to be in this spot, then clown suit rentals are off to the left.

#cat speaks #cat spoils #character ranking #okay fr tho dont ever ask me for anything ever again #take your complaints to your dashboard button and off my blog #idc if you dont like my ranks #theyre not for you #heck off

23 notes · View notes

coffeebeannate · 4 years

Text

Nate Watches Things: A Saga

Or in this case, one thing. One thing that was far too long of a thing, but such a bizarre venture that I felt rather compelled to put an actual review of said thing together.

Why? Because I can and because others HAVE to experience this..this journey. A nice lil journey called Die Pfeiler der Macht/ A Dangerous Fortune. And I watched it solely because Luca looks cute in Victorian clothes, and I was intrigued by the gifs.

Curiosity has always been such a great human motivator, eh?

And..guys. I just. I don’t know what the 3-4 hours (it’s two movies, and I took a couple days to watch it) WERE, exactly, but they were..a thing? I know that it’s based on a book by Ken Follett and that this production is German. Despite being based in England.

Oh, and Luca’s character Mickey Miranda, is uh, Spanish. Make of that what you will.

So the summary is this:

A shocking secret behind a young boys death leads to three generations of treachery in this breathtaking saga of love, power and revenge, set amid the wealth and decadence of Victorian England.

And no it does not do this thing justice whatsoever.

Review under the cut. It’s too long *again, two movies here*, and I took far too many screencaps of this absolute wtfery, and uh, it’s probably better suited for a real-time live blog but nah. You can have this instead.

Some images under the cut are NSFW because nefarious boning is a key point in this..thing.

SPOILERS. So many spoilers. This thing is a spoiler fest. The caps have a very obvious Luca bias, I know why we’re here everyone. Hehe. There’s also some triggering stuff in this thing, so be warned there too.

BEHOLD:

So, a point I want to make is that the costuming in this movie is LEGIT. If absolutely nothing else works? Note that the costuming absolutely does.

The opening credits are very nice, Luca’s very pretty, this cap serves purely to showcase that because I’m a very serious man doing a very serious review.

Pretty.

So the beginning is..confusing. We have a girl, Maisie Robinson. (Around 10-13 here?) Her father is very poor and it’s her and her two siblings. He works for a man who is part of our main characters, the Pilasters? and they run this bank. The head of the bank commits suicide, since they’re having financial troubles and he cannot repay his workers. He pens a note to his young son *under 12 at this point*, Hugh.

Hugh never finds out about this letter, but anyway. At the moment, it’s 1866. Maisie’s father was one of those employees. Destitute, he leaves Maisie to..raise her siblings, and goes to America.

We never hear from this man again.

Hugh goes to live with his aunt (Augusta/Augustina?), uncle Joseph, and cousins, Edward and Clara.

THEN IT’S 1877 (we jump ten years)

Maisie’s two siblings have died, and she has a daughter, Rachel now. Who is also dying. This movie is very keen on people dying. I’d also like to point out that there is like, endless plots all happening alongside one another, and it took me until mid-way into part two to even really grasp what the main plot is.

The movie has a LOT of bank talk as well. I cannot express this earnestly enough, there is SO MUCH bank chatter. SO MUCH. This thing does not have to be as long as it is but again, bank stuff.

Anyway, the one plot is that Maisie is from the poor area, she’s had a horrible life and has struggled from day one. She’s in a constant battle with Hugh, and they argue a lot. A lot. (They like each other, they met as kids, but they’re from very different worlds. Hugh has money, she doesn’t, but Hugh has suffered as well and basically it’s your normal class struggle social commentary thing).

Maisie and Hugh in 1866, as kids, after Maisie’s father left for America. This is the funeral for Hugh’s father. So that’s the theme I mean.

Anywho.

Back in 1877, this is Samuel *left*, Joseph *middle* and Edward. The Pilaster’s get marched into work like they’re freaking army Captain’s and not just rich ass bankers. Imagine saluting your CEO. At work. Outside of the military. WHERE IS THIS A THING? Maybe this was a thing in Victorian England I have no clue I’ve certainly never come across it in my studies. Ffs.

Anyway.

So while all this is going on, there’s this man that wants to marry Maisie.

And his name is,

(That’s Rachel, Maisie’s daughter). Anyway, Solly here loves Maisie and wants to marry her. But Maisie loves Hugh, and neither of them realize this yet. Solly is a himbo and we mostly like him, but stay tuned because that doesn’t stick. Sorta. Depends on how-

Nevermind I’ll just keep going.

ANYWAY, more plot.

Here’s Edward again, doing drugs, being gay, and overall..useless. Edward is..Edward is kind of like a person who would make an interesting wall decoration. Fun enough to look at, but utterly freaking hopeless, and useless, and so dumb. Just so dumb. This character is given the substance of ash fault. Kinda like, only vaguely solid enough to be entertaining. Kinda.

I don’t know guys, BUT LOOK!

It’s his good old pal Mickey! And he’s slapped Edward awake out of his drug coma (okay he grabs his face and shakes him rather than slapping but given how much slapping happens in the rest of this movie I think I can be forgiven) and he has PLOTS.

Mostly it’s his dads plot, but it’s a plot. A very devious scheme and he needs our favourite wallpapers assistance!

(Sorry Edward, but it’s true)

So keeping in mind that the ‘theme’ of this movie is bone-and-soul crushing sadness paired with periods of intense chaos and insanity that you never see coming, our plots continue to thicken.

What Mickey means here, is that Edward’s family denied Mickey’s father what he wanted *weapons deal*, and beat the crap out of Mickey in a carriage. But that’s fine that’s fine Mickey is not deterred! BECAUSE.

*sigh*

So.

OK.

This scene.

Remember what I said about how this movie goes from being incredibly boring to so off the walls bonkers without actually WARNING YOU that it is going to do this? Yeah.

Edward, you see, really does not ‘do’ women. He’s gay. He’s extremely gay. Edward’s mother wants him to marry Florence Stalworthy for idk rich people reasons.

So..Mickey. Uh. Mickey’s solution is..this.

What is this, you ask??

Fuck if I know.

Anyway, no, uhm. This is a brothel. So (not) pictured here (I can’t post the scene on tumblr guys we have a ban) is Edward on a couch across from mask-and-feathers MIckey and this tied down woman, with another woman who is not tied down. And this is Mickey..showing Edward..how to.have sex with women. Apparently. Sort of. His lesson falls very flat. It is not a good scene, Mickey’s ‘instructions’ get increasingly louder, and he at one point makes this noise that sounds like a Joker laugh.

It is...it’s something.

(Also note there’s some extremely uncomfortable, misogynistic name-calling on Mickey’s part here..so yeah).

Oh, and it doesn’t convince Edward. At all. IMAGINE.

Around all this time, the Hugh/Maisie/Solly plot is also ongoing. And that also encompasses bar fighting (bare knuckles boxing and wrestling I think? And gambling)

Hugh has gambling debt we’ll get back to this. (He’s also obsessed with getting Russian bonds into the bank, again, the banking plot losses me a LOT)

So meanwhile, Mickey meets up with Edward’s mother.

But why Edward’s mother, you ask??

Well. *sigh*. Something I didn’t mention earlier is that Mickey likes Ed’s mum. A lot. A lot a lot. Mickey wants to take that woman to town and then some, is a very basic way of me putting it and-

Fuck it. Mickey wants to bang Ed’s mum. BADLY.

(She’s not opposed either, at all)

So their little scheme here is that Ed’s mum wants Ed to take control of the bank, but with the father-in-law alive, that’s not going to happen. So they’re plotting to take down the next person in charge who would succeed said father in law, (Samuel) who is in a relationship with the secretary mentioned above, Michael.

Yes, another GODDAMNED PLOT.

(Samuel is fairly unpleasant like all of these people, so I don’t feel that bad for him. He also kinda treats Michael like garbage, and is called out for this by Joseph later in the movie)

So the scheme here is to get rid of the father-in-law, and get Ed married. Cake walk!

(Also, while ALL THIS is going on, Mickey’s got his own mini-plot about doing these things for his father, the weapons and stuff but we don’t actually find out about the main goal of that whole thing till the end, you’ll see)

Oh, and since we’ve not had a good dose of ‘WHAT THE FUCK’ lately, Solly proposes to Maisie with an honest-to-god Alice in Wonderland party.

Yeah.

Meet the Mad Hatter! He’s a guide, he says nothing. Other people are in costume too, but you know-I have enough caps as it is.

So anyway, Maisie and Solly get engaged, Maisie and Hugh meet up at some point and bang instead.

And while that’s happening, Edward is convinced by Mickey to marry Florence.

So he does.

Lookit this shit faced smug ass grin.

(Also ahead is Samuel again, and Hugh)

BUT THEN the bank finds out about Hugh’s gambling debts. So he leaves. Taking his cousin Clara (Edward’s teenage sister-at her insistence) to the USA. And just like Maisie’s dad, another man abandons her for the States.

So the father in law is still alive, so!

It’s murder time.

Perfect wedding time event yeah?

So Mickey murders the father-in-law. (He jumps on him, suffocates him with a pillow, gets caught by Augusta and then they do this..weird ‘tensely make the bed thing’)

Murdered.

And then, exactly five seconds or so later..

Nothing like some murder pre-boning with the dead guy two feet away amiright?

Anyway at this point I was just:

And yelling at my ceiling. Not pictured.

I was a Hannibal fan and I STILL went !?!?!?

END PART ONE.

Part two starts out in 1912, and then cuts back to 1882. So in this messy timeline, note it has been six years since part one. And Hugh is married now to Nora, an American singer, and Clara is older and pregnant. (Father is never determined, but he’s a married man and that’s why Clara didn’t stay)

SO the three of them are returning home. Maisie and Solly have a son, David, and Maisie is depressed and distant, so Solly is the one who spends all the time with David. He’s shown as a legit good dad and it’s quite cute watching them.

(The kids Hugh’s, btw, he and Maisie both know this, Hugh does not, it’s revealed dramatically later but we still have so many plots)

Edward and Florence are childless. Edward doesn’t sleep with her. Everyone knows this.

(At this point I kept asking myself when this would end, I cannot stress how LONG this thing feels at times)

So Hugh and Nora meet up with Maisie and Solly, and they chat and there’s more love plots, more bank plots and a masquerade party where at some point Maisie thinks a little girl at the party is Rachel (who died in the end of part one, sorry!) and there’s a fire and Maisie and Hugh make out and Nora and Solly are both upset and it’s a whole thing.

Samuel now does something of a side business that’s unspecified with Michael, and pregnant Clara is being persued by the only man who might be a good match for her (she’s not keen on getting married. But he’s also..really old.) PLOTS.

And Mickey and Augusta are..still a thing. And Edward being chlidless is becoming an issue. So what is the solution dear friends??

*BANGS HEAD INTO A WALL*

Why the fuck not.

Absolutely flawless! Eddie will NEVER notice.

SO with this plan in motion, Mickey sets out to seduce Florence, Eddie’s neglected wife. He starts in a church, and I have to admit, this one line he gives is quite funny.

“I don’t go to church.”

Cannot begin to imagine why.

Also, around this time is when we get the infamous scene about how he fcked the wives of the three men and then made the guys suck his dick one by one. I didn’t cap that since it’s in gif form, but yeah.

Hugh and Solly and Nora and Maisie are still having their love issues. And there is still bank stuff as all this is going down.

But while on his Florence quest, we see Mickey beat up a guy who was abusing a small boy, and Florence see’s him do this as well and:

He looks so baffled.

‘Me? GOOD? I really don’t think so.”

She’s also holding a baby, and he gives the infant this face:

“Eugh, what is that?”

He also finds her in church again at some point and comes alongside her like this:

”Sup? Whatcha prayin’ about?”

Anyway, while doing all this, he’s still having some issues. He needs Eddie’s signature for a bank transfer (for his father, his father’s plot is STILL a THING) and so it is time to seduce someone ELSE. This time it’s Edward. This won’t be hard. Edward wants him so bad you could probably see it from fucking space.

Mickey is well aware of this.(I don’t think it’s one sided either, he looks at Edward all wide eyed half the time, but he’s so manipulative it’s hard to judge).

Actually me right now tbh.

So that’s this followed by the infamous gif set.

Edward takes him up on it.

‘Come along my dear there’s nefarious boning to be done’.

Absolutely vital screencap below (which is the most we get anyway and I didn’t cap the line about the freaking signature because fuck plots over nice images okay)

Vital

Anyway Edward gives him the bloody signature. And then Mickey goes along to talk to Augusta. But at this point Mickey is very much beginning to unravel. His goal seems to be more centralized to finishing whatever long ass convoluted job his father has been making him do for the last six years (possibly more tbh) and he’s sort of done with everything.

And Edward see’s this exchange. Le. Oof.

SO! IN BETWEEN ALL THIS. There’s some party where there’s drama and then basically Nora..willing gives up Hugh so he can be with Maisie and Solly just..I don’t even know, single dad for life and all. Edward knows that his family has basically been doing shit all around him, and Mickey STILL seduces Florence. He has her meet him outside that night at two am and they get together, but when he’s with her he kinda has these doubts but she wants him anyway so they bang.

Yeesh.

AFTER that there’s Edward again, because Edward knows shit is up, Mickey goes to a room to grab a bag and see’s Edward there. He tells Edward goodbye, but Edward pulls a gun. Mickey just...drops the bag, tells him to shoot. Edward doesn’t, instead he turns the gun on himself and then Mickey shoots himself in a chair.

Yeah.

DEATH! SADNESS! REMEMBER-THIS MOVIE LOVES DEAD PEOPLE~!

At some point in all this, Augusta goes to her daughter, Clara, apologies for being an absolutely evil mother for her entire life and then the movie sort of begins to wrap up.

Maisie and David were going to leave for the States together, but David wants to stay with Solly, who well DID raise him despite him being Hugh’s kid. So Maisie and Hugh are alone and David lives with Solly and the Pilaster bank has discovered the ACTUAL FREAKING PLOT OF MICKEY’S DAD AND THE ENTIRE BACKGROUND THING. Which was this:

THIS DIDN’T NEED TO BE ALMOST FOUR HOURS, GERMANY.

SO Hugh lets the mob inside. We don’t see what happens after that, but Augusta comes in to tell Joseph Edward shot himself.

Lots of sadness.

So the movie ends in 1912, with David and Hugh meeting up. David never saw Maisie again *she’s deceased now, as is Solly.* they talk, there is some moral lesson or something about love. The goddamned end.

OOF.

SO overall?

I don’t know.

It’s a movie. It has a script and plot and..it was put on screen? The costumes are legitimately amazing. They might be the best thing about this thing. But it REALLY feels like Ken really wanted to make a movie about banking, noticed that’d be boring and tried to make it spicy.

It’s so bizarre. So depressing. So many people are horrible. So many bad things happen. So much slapping, so much weirdness. There’s nothing happy in this thing. Not one. The so called ‘good’-ish ending falls flat amongst a sea of depression and I re-iterate, IT DOES NOT HAVE TO BE SO LONG.

I distinctly recall lots of clock watching at times, wondering how I could POSSIBLY have more to go. It then goes so completely off the rails that you just don’t know what is happening and it’s just WEIRD.

At times that weirdness makes it fun, but overall it’s really not great. I probably would never rewatch it, and I can say that it’s an uh, experience in movie-watching.

A good one? I don’t know. But an experience, none the less.

#a dangerous fortune #nate reviews things #nate reviewing #look don't expect coherency here ya'll this thing is A TRIP #long post #too many screenshots #am i legit posting this thing at quarter to four in the morning #yes because i dont want my drafts to eat it askjdnkas #i'll just rebagel later in the day if needed ok

75 notes · View notes

might-be-a-zygon · 3 years

Note

Ohhhh Thasmin and "are you kidding me?! you're not 'fine'!" OR River/13 and "i can't believe i almost lost you

This one got away from me a little, I’ll admit. It’s pretty angsty and features a lot of (canon) character death, so fair warning on that one.

I’ll add an AO3 link in the reblogs!

---

The Ghosts That Broke My Heart

Sleep had always been a funny thing for the Doctor. She certainly needed a lot less of it than her human friends, but it had always been a reliable break from whatever life chose to throw at her that week. She had dreams, like everyone did, but there was one thing which the Doctor didn’t really do.

She didn’t have nightmares.

Really, what would she have them about? The Doctor faced the creatures of nightmares every day. To some species, the Doctor was a creature of nightmares.

Still, after what had happened on Gallifrey? She’d found the creatures that could jolt her awake screaming.

Ghosts.

Whatever she’d done to overload the matrix had broken centuries of carefully constructed barriers, holding back the people she’d lost, and now her mind saw fit to make her relive each dark moment whenever she let her guard down to try and sleep.

It had started out right away- that first night in the Jadoon prison she’d laid down on the slab that passed for a bed, and closed her eyes to sleep.

“What does that mean?”

Jenny was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, all wide-eyes and excited smiles. The Doctor could recognise a lot of her own nervous energy in the young woman- ready to go off and explore the brave new world that awaited them. She also saw the gunman poised to take all that away in a moment.

It was like she was watching through thick glass. Poised on the sidelines, watching her past selves getting it all wrong over and over, but helpless to interfere. She slammed her palm against it, sending a too-real shooting pain through her arm, but making no audible sound.

“It means a new world.”

Sandshoes was grinning now, more genuine hope than she could ever really remember feeling shining in those eyes. He’d burned in the end- she remembered that much. He’d been angry. Vengeful.

The Timelord Victorious.

How different might things have been if he’d just turned around? The Doctor tried to speak, to shout for him to get her out of the way. Her voice didn’t make a sound.

She watched the happiness melt from Jenny’s face, even as Sandshoes maintained his stupid, complacent grin. The Doctor was pounding on the glass now, silently screaming that it wasn’t worth it, but of course she couldn’t change it. Jenny shoved Sandshoes out of the way, the bullet striking her square in the chest. Martha- brilliant Martha who she’d never once deserved- she knew right away there was no chance. She watched her past-self hold their dying daughter, and tell her of a future she’d never see, already knowing she was beyond saving. Lies had always fallen too easily from her tongue.

“You’re gonna be amazing, you hear me, Jenny?”

Had she even heard?

That first night, when she woke with a whine, curled up into a tight ball on her uncomfortable prison bed, the Doctor had attributed it to stress. She’d jumped haphazardly from Byron, to the cybermen, to Gallifrey, to prison with no time to clear her head. The Master always did funny things to her mind, anyway, it was normal there’d be some aftereffects.

Her hand ached from where she’d been slamming it into the ‘bed’.

She tried to shake the traitorous vision of Jenny- bright, young Jenny with so much potential sacrificing herself for the father she hardly knew. The father who would go on to do so much damage.

Against her better judgement, she’d turned over, and tried to get to sleep again. It was the last time she made that mistake.

The first thing the Doctor heard this time, was screaming.

She was on a ship, which certainly wasn’t her TARDIS. It took her a minute to recognise the place- but, maybe that made the whole thing even worse. Somebody was screaming for her help, and she couldn’t even remember who it was.

She stood there, behind whatever barrier her mind had constructed to stop her interfering, and watched the doddering old fool she’d been back then just stand there while a good woman was in trouble just feet away. She could have reopened the airlock doors- she’d known how- but she’d been so desperate to look for a way around it, that she’d left Katarina there screaming.

“Change course.” The Doctor in front of her finally ordered. “Take him back to Kembel. Take him back to Kembel! Let the Daleks deal with him.”

In that moment the Doctor looked into her own eyes and saw a spark of that ruthless fire which would one day burn galaxies. It was that same fire that made her risk tearing time apart for Clara Oswald- the fire that burned too brightly. If she was feeling generous, she might have called it admirable, that she was willing to fight so unbelievably hard for the people she loved.

Right now, she called it selfishness.

Steven stepped towards the old Doctor, his anger doing a poor job at masking his fear. “Yes, and us!”

“Don't worry, dear boy, We'll find a way out.” The Doctor cringed at her first face (or, the first face she remembered), while standing in her glass prison. Her methods of comfort hadn’t come on any in three thousand years. She was still a liar.

Both of the men who’d been with her bck then had been afraid. Bret had even tried arguing with her, but the Doctor had never been an easy person to argue with.

“I can't sacrifice everything for the sake of that one girl.” He argued, still at the controls. Luckily, she was spared the embarrassment of having to watch her former self argue by Steven stepping in.

“Listen! Without us you wouldn't have got off Kembel at all, and nothing would be worth bothering about!”

“All right, so we all go back together. But without me, I doubt that you would have got this far either.” Bret had given in quickly enough, and all the while the Doctor just stood and watched, and listened to Katarina’s frightened screaming in the airlock.

She watched as Katarina broke free and hit the release for the airlock. She watched as both her and Kirksen were sucked out into space. She watched, and knew that that girl- that girl who was so brave in the face of so much danger- had sacrificed herself so the three of them could get away.

Her hearts ached, as she thought of a dozen ways she could have saved her, if she’d tried harder.

“She wanted to save our lives and perhaps the lives of all the other beings of the Solar System.” The old Doctor in front of her began to make his silly speech, and the Doctor turned away, revolted at her own self-importance. “I hope she's found her Perfection. Oh, how I shall always remember her as one of the Daughters of the Gods. Yes, as one of the Daughters of the Gods.”

Rule one.

She hadn’t thought about Katarina in centuries. That poor, brave woman, who had made the ultimate sacrifice to keep them all alive, and the Doctor hadn’t even bothered to remember her.

The Doctor had awoken, still curled up on that cold stone slab, unable to shake the revulsion at her own actions. Was she still like that man? So pompous as to think that every being in the universe made their decisions based around her.

She hadn’t tried to sleep again, after that, shifting to lay on her back, staring at the celling, and trying to shake what somewhere, deep down, she knew.

There were very, very good reasons, she was in prison.

At first, it was always death. Faces she’d remembered, and ones she’d long since forgotten, all meeting their end because the Doctor had failed to save them.

“It snapped my neck, Sir. It wasn’t as painless as I expected, but it was pretty quick, so that was something.”

Angel Bob.

The Doctor had forgotten all about Angel Bob. He was young, and clever, and he was so scared, and she had just walked away and forgotten all about him, as though he’d never even existed.

She could see the look on the faces of the others- the muted horror on River’s, and the more pronounced look of it on her mother’s, as well as the well-managed grief of the soldiers who’d fought with him. They were all ghosts, now. Amy, River, the soldiers. All blown away like smoke on the wind.

“If you’re dead how can I be talking to you?” She tried not to think about the genuine interest her former self’s voice held in that moment- a man had just died, and Bowtie was curious about the mechanics.

“You’re not talking to me, Sir. The angel has no voice. It stripped my cerebral cortex from my body and reanimated a version of my consciousness to communicate with you. Sorry about the confusion.”

She tried her absolute best not to think too hard about how conscious the original Bob was at that moment. Had he known what had happened to him? Had he felt the angels turn him into their puppet?

She watched as Bowtie told them all to run- to run into the maze of weeping angels with no plan, and to just trust him, and she watched as he stopped behind to defend himself.

“Yes, I called you an idiot, and I’m sorry-“ He didn’t sound sorry at all, but the Doctor in her glass cage watching it play out certainly was, “But I couldn’t have saved your men.”

“I know that, Sir. And when you’ve flown off in your little blue box, I’ll explain that to their families.”

She watched, sick to her stomach, as Bowtie smirked.

“I’ll have to tell his mother.”

Seeing Rose, even after all this time, was still painful. This was only the second day they’d met, back before they’d travelled together. Before she’d managed to soften the war ravaged Doctor standing in front of her now.

The Ears had been one of her shortest lived, and angriest faces, and the ways he’d treated people were downright cruel at times. She saw the questioning look he gave Rose, clueless in the face of Mickey’s apparent demise, and why she’d be at all upset.

Why Rose hadn’t walked away then and there would forever be a mystery to the Doctor. She’d never once deserved that kind of love.

“Mickey” I’ll have to tell his mother he’s dead, and you just went and forgot him, again! You were right, you are alien.”

Alien didn’t have to mean cruel, though. So why did callousness seem to come so easily to her? Maybe it was just the sheer amount of death she’d witnessed, but it still hurt to see. She had to keep reminding herself that this death, at least, hadn’t been real- that Mickey was alive and living on earth, raising a son with his dad’s eyes and his mum’s brains who’d have the whole world talking in a few years.

At least it was a good reminder of why she was staying away from August Smith.

“Look, if I did forget some kid called Mickey-“

“Yeah, he’s not a kid-“

The Ears cut Rose off before she could keep speaking, but the Doctor watching from the side-lines found herself nodding in agreement. Rose was right. Of course Rose was right.

“It’s because I’m busy trying to save the life of every stupid ape blundering about on top of this planet! Alright?”

“Alright!”

“Yes, it is!” Ears sounded insufferably smug.

The Doctor shook her head in disgust, glancing at Rose and quietly muttering, “Why did you ever put up with me?”

“Look out!”

It was another voice she hadn’t heard in a long time, and one she’d frankly been dreading hearing. If Nyssa was here she had a good idea of what she was about to see. She saw the cybermen coming up behind her back, while her fifth-self fumbled with the controls. It was as good as useless.

A cyberman lumbered up behind her, and her past-self ignored it completely, leaving Nyssa to have to shoot it down with a discarded cyberweapon. She was once again saved by a more competent friend, and her own hypocrisy when it came to guns.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever even thanked Nyssa for saving her life.

“I must save Adric!”

Stuck in the corner, exhausted and emotionally drained, the Doctor was just glad that, while she was having to watch another of her failures, this version of herself was at the very least trying.

“Look!”

“Adric.”

The screen came to life, and the Doctor tried to shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch, but of course it didn’t work- in her dreams she wouldn’t be allowed to block out the parts she didn’t want to see. The only consolation was that she wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes.

She’d always been cowardly like that.

She watched as the ship began to come apart- watched as Tegan and Nyssa held each other, and Celery just stood there gawping like a fish who couldn’t believe his own incompetence.

She still remembered that feeling- like someone had clawed the hearts out of her chest and shown them to her. Back then, it’d been such a long time since she’d really lost someone that she wasn’t used to the pain of it anymore.

When had she become careless enough that death just bounced off of her?

It only took ten days of reliving her worst moments before the Doctor had begun actively fighting sleep. Prison, at least, was a safe enough place to do it. She’d pace her cell at night to keep herself from drifting off- reciting books she knew by heart, or just talking to herself to keep her eyes from closing for too long. During the day, she’d do the same- chatting to the other prisoners, pacing, never letting herself remain still for fear of finally giving into the exhaustion which seemed to have seeped into her bones.

Of course, even a Time Lord (if she could even call herself one anymore), couldn’t stay awake forever. After weeks of forcing her eyes to stay open, she’d eventually collapse, usually when she was in her cell, if she was lucky, and she’d endure another walkthrough her past- too exhausted to even wake up- before being woken by the prison systems to begin all over again.

After a while she’d slip into waking dreams, too exhausted to even think straight. She’d sit in her cell, nutrient block in hand, while her sleep deprived mind played out snippets of her life, a few seconds at a time, while she fought to wake up enough to dismiss the visions.

At first, when she next saw herself- sitting on a bench, eating chips, she thought maybe this was just her mind crying out for some real food. It was easy to forget the specifics of what had been discussed all those years before, after twenty years sitting in a cell.

“She scares me.” Came Bill’s voice from next to the older-Doctor, quiet in its honesty. Admitting you were scared was something so few people ever did- least of all when they were around the Doctor, and being brave was so important, but Bill had never been afraid to admit it to her. She’d been strong like that. “Like. She really scares me.”

As much as she still, after all this time, wanted the Master to be everything she knew he could be, it was hard to deny how right Bill had been to be afraid. After all- it was the Master who’d handed her over to the cybermen, in the end, just not the version she’d feared.

“Okay. Just, promise me one thing, yeah? Just promise you won’t get me killed.”

“I can’t promise you that!” Eyebrows had laughed at her, as though her concerns were something flippant. As though her fear was something worth laughing at. He’d been right, in the end, he hadn’t been able to keep Bill alive, but it was horrible looking back at it now.

The Doctor had managed to shock herself back into reality, but she hadn’t been able to shake the self-contempt that settled in her hearts.

Most of the time, those waking nightmares came while she was stuck sitting around, waiting for the time to come that she’d be allowed out into her tiny cube of the exercise yard, just for something to break up the routine of sitting alone, and thinking about death.

“I keep remembering all the people I’ve killed. Every day I think of more. Being bad- Being bad drowned that out. I didn’t know I even knew their names. You didn’t tell me about this bit.”

“I’m sorry, but this is good.”

“Okay.”

The Doctor watched herself hold her self-ascribed goodness over her oldest friend, and couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t what had driven the Master to the depths of madness he’d displayed on Gallifrey. She might have lorded it as a good thing back then, but she was quickly learning the types of things that isolation, imprisonment, and guilt could do to the mind. If she got out of prison with her sanity, she’d count it a blessing.

She’d dreamt about Missy a lot, after a while. The longer she stayed locked up, the more her guild-addled mind saw fit to remind her of her stint as jailor.

On those nights she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open, the Doctor saw herself through the glass again. It was her twelfth face- well, the twelfth she remembered- the one with the angry eyebrows and the trusting nature. She saw Missy standing there, looking more dishevelled than she had before the vault, standing so close to the forcefield that it was rippling. She looked strangely earnest despite the pantomime of madness she put o- as though she was proud of herself for actually helping.

She watched as Eyebrows shoved Bill back away from Missy, not seeming to care much about how what had just transpired had clearly affected her. She’d never been good enough for Bill- the kind, inquisitive girl who’d gone out of her way to buy the Doctor Christmas presents and who’d called her grandad, and who she’d promised she wouldn’t get killed. Bill who had been so strong, who had fought off the monks and the cybermen by sheer force of will. Bill who’d deserved so much more than what the Doctor had given to her.

She watched Eyebrows walk up to that rippling forcefield, and look his oldest friend in the eyes like she was still the monster she pretended to be.

“Even if that was the truth the fact that you’re suggesting it shows that there’s been no change. No hope. No point.”

Eyebrows sounded angry, and the Doctor winced slightly at that. How was the Master ever supposed to change with the Doctor constantly telling her that her progress meant nothing? Was that why she’d given up in the end? It had to be easier to go back to what you’d known before rather than being constantly strung along and put down by someone who had promised to help you become better.

Missy’s face contorted for a moment. The Doctor left her here for months, all alone in this dusty room with almost nothing, and then he’d turned up just to talk to her like this? Her Twelfth face was one of the few she’d always thought of as good- or, if not good, at least kind. Sandshoes had been angry from the war and from everything he’d lost, but Eyebrows had tried so hard to be kind. Was this really what her version of kind did to people?

After her own stint in prison, leaving Missy trapped like this for so long was beginning to seem more and more cruel. She’d wanted to help people, she really had, but it wasn’t as though her friend had come to her and asked. She’d saved her, and then abused that power, keeping her prisoner for decades to try and make her into something she’d never tried to be. It was hard, knowing what had later become of the Master, not to wonder what all that time in the vault had done to their already fragile mental state. How much had she contributed to his snapping and destroying their home?

Looking at it like that how was the Doctor any better than the Jadoon? And how was Missy running off with the Master much different from her running with Jac They’d both been escaping jailors who kept them confined alone for long enough to drive them half-mad.

“We don’t sacrifice people.” The scene playing out in front of her was hardly easy, but the Doctor laughed anyway, because the irony of that wasn’t lost on her. She’d let so many people die for her as Rainbows that Eyebrows’ words felt hollow. “It’s wrong because it’s easy.”

“Back in the day I’d burn an entire city to the ground just to see the pretty shapes the smoke made. I’m sorry your plus one doesn’t get a happy ending, but like it or not I just saved this world because I want to change.”

There was a forced lightness to Missy’s voice, almost undetectable unless you really knew her well- and the Doctor knew her better than anybody. It’d been a cry for help, of sorts- she’d wanted her friend back, and Eyebrows had ignored her. She’d saved the world- the Doctor would have likely spent months searching for infected water supplies and food chains following up his own stupid theories, and Missy had told him the answer freely, and without reward. She’d saved the world and he’d told her there was no hope for her- no wonder she’d run.

“Your version of good is not absolute.” She continued, her fingers pushing slightly against the forcefield now. The Doctor watched it ripple from behind he own glass patrician, and she knew the look in Missy’s eyes far too well. If that forcefield had been replaced with glowing blue bars it could have been her in her own cell. At least during her imprisonment she hadn’t had to live with the knowledge that her oldest friend was her jailor. “It’s vain, arrogant, and sentimental.”

Vain, arrogant and sentimental.

She always had said the Master knew her soul a little too well.

Once the spectre of death faded, somewhat, it was her own shortcomings her subconscious decided to force onto her. Those moments when she’d forced others into complying with what she’d wanted- as though that was always her decision to make.

She was the Doctor, after all. Who would ever dare to question her whims as anything less than genius?

“You know you can fix that chameleon circuit if you just tried hot-wiring the fragment links and superseding the binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary-“

Not this. Not Donna. How was this fair? At least with Jenny she hadn’t seen the gunman. She could see it in her past-self’s face that he knew this was killing her, and he was just standing there like an idiot, watching it happen. He could have stepped in sooner.

“I’m fine.” Donna was showing off that big grin, back to talking a mile-a-minute. The Doctor had always wondered if on some level she knew what this would do. She had all of that knowledge inside her head, it must have been somewhere in her all along that she’d become an impossible thing.

She didn’t pound on the glass or scream this time, watching her own past unfold with her hand pressed up against it. She mouthed I’m sorry, but no sound came out.

“I bet he’s great, Charlie Chaplin. Shall we do that? Shall we go see Charlie Chaplin? Shall we? Charlie Chaplin. Charlie Chester. Charlie Brown- no he’s fiction-“ She watched as Donna pranced around, playing with the console and the phone. This wasn’t quite Donna- not really. This Donna was far too Doctor- maybe that was why she found it so unsettling, seeing her charming, funny, irreverent friend talking like someone she hated.

“Friction, fiction, fixing, mixing, Rickston, Brixton-“ Donna cut off with a gasp, and the Doctor wanted to slap Sandshoes for leaving her in this state. She had to be scared, and he wasn’t even bothering to explain it to her. Of course, with that much of the Doctor’s mind burning through her own, Donna had probably understood it all already, but there was still something to be said for compassion in a situation as horrific as this one.

“I was gonna be with you forever.” The sadness in Donna’s eyes spoke volumes. She’d trusted the Doctor so much, had so much planned for them, and it was all the Doctor’s fault.

If her hearts hadn’t already shattered they did now. Nobody ever stayed with her forever- not really. Even if she wanted them to, she’d always destroy them before they got a chance.

She was on the floor, kneeling on the dirty floor of a TARDIS she’d long since tried to forget. When had that happened?

“I know.”

She screwed her eyes shut, grateful that this time, at least, she managed to block out the visuals- maybe because this time, the sound of Donna begging for something the Doctor was too selfish to give her was enough. She wouldn’t watch Sandshoes lie to her like that- like he’d lied to Jenny, and to Bob, and to Steven. Pretty words to ease the pain she was about to put her through.

“I can’t go back. Doctor. Please. Please don’t make me go back.”

Listening to her beg wasn’t any easier than watching it. Or living it- especially now she knew just how painful it was to have your memories taken from you. Gallifrey may have erased her path, but she’d run roughshod over her friend’s mind just as carelessly.

“Donna Noble. I am so sorry. But we had the best of times.” Was that supposed to make either of them feel better? She’d been so self-righteous back then. The Doctor opened her eyes again, and regretted it almost immediately, curling in on herself behind her little partition. “Goodbye.”

“No. No! No please! No. No! No!”

Staying awake proved easier once she’d left prison.

During her incarceration, it had only been the thought of getting home to her fam which had really kept her going, so having Yaz back at her side was a real boost to her mood, which kept those waking nightmares at bay.

The running helped too- adrenaline in her system keeping the more dangerous effects of her sleep-deprivation at bay. Still, it didn’t mean that nights didn’t come where she came down from that high of finally being able to help again, and her tiredness came crashing down on her like a crushing weight.

This time, it came after a particularly harsh day.

She was getting sloppy in her exhausted state, and that sloppiness had put Yaz in far greater danger than she’d ever wanted to risk again. She’d told herself, that after the cybermen, and the daleks, she’d be more careful, but then all of a sudden there they were, stuck in a trap she should have been able to spot, if she was thinking clearly.

They’d been held hostage for longer than she was willing to admit- some scrapper who was very keen on getting hold of the TARDIS- not that he really knew what it was or what significance it held. No, for this man the greatest ship in the universe was worth some spare parts, and whatever the scrap value of its base components was.

They’d gotten out, in the end, but it wasn’t as though she could even take credit for that- it was quick thinking on Yaz’s part which had distracted their attacker for long enough for them to get to the TARDIS. As impressive as it was, it was still terrifying to see Yaz be so like her in the way she acted. The last person who’d wanted to be the Doctor had gotten killed trying to do so.

She’d hardly said a word once they returned to the ship, trying her best to ignore the furtive looks of concern she kept getting. She slipped off to the library alone when Yaz went to make a cup of tea, getting there on her fourth attempt (since the TARDIS seemed insistent on placing her room behind every door she opened), and counting on the near-infinite nature of the TARDIS rooms to hide her for a while. She needed a little space while she cleared her head and tried to get rid of some of the overwhelming guilt that was eating her up inside.

She could have gotten Yaz killed today with her carelessness. If Yaz wasn’t as good as she was, she would have gotten them both killed.

No matter what horrors from her past her brain decided to drudge up, a world without Yaz was still a terrifying thought.

“I’m not asking you for a promise. I’m giving you an order.”

She really didn’t want to see this.

The Doctor had not gotten her memories back just so she could watch Clara Oswald face the raven all over again. Even in prison her mind hadn’t been cruel enough to remind her of that particular death. She remembered the others- Oswin, and the governess she’d met in London, and a hundred other Clara’s who’d died to save her- but this one had never come up.

Evidently, her subconscious thought she needed a reminder of what happened when she took her eyes off things for a moment too long.

“You will not insult my memory. There will be no revenge. I will die, and no one else here, or anywhere, will suffer.”

Well there was a promise the Doctor hadn’t managed to keep. She’d tried to tear time itself apart to save Clara, and worst of all, she’d never even known if it succeeded. Testimony didn’t remember whether Clara had lived or died- it’d been taken the moment before the raven hit- before the Doctor had tried to pull her from her timeline. She had no memory of anything that’d happened with Clara after this, and while she knew they’d been together on Gallifrey, she didn’t know how permanent that salvation might be, or what about it had taken her memories to begin with.

“What about me?” Eyebrows asked, and the Doctor who was watching him managed a harsh, bitter laugh. Clara was dying, and as usual her former self was there to be selfish and make her comfort him.

“If there was something I could do about that I would. I guess we’ll both just need to be brave.”

“Clara-“ He was trying to argue again, but all at once she was pulling him into a hug, and looking at the desperation of it from the outside, the Doctor just knew that Clara was trying to pull some comfort from it too, since Eyebrows hadn’t been offering her any.

She’d been human, and she’d been dying, and she’d been scared, but she’d forced herself to be brave so her friend didn’t have to be.

Looking back on it, Clara had always been so much stronger than the Doctor had ever been.

“Don’t run.” It had to be the first time she’d ever said that to one of her friends in a bad spot. “Stay with me.” Eyebrows was practically begging her now. Worse than that, the Doctor knew that if she had to go back and do it again, she wouldn’t be any stronger.

“Nah.” She could see how heard Clara was working to keep her tone casual, not wanting to hurt the Doctor any more than this whole thing already would. It was heart breaking, really, knowing that even in her final moments she’d had to suppress her own feelings to try and save her pain. “You stay here. In the end everybody does this alone.”

She shouldn’t have had to do it alone.

“Clara-“ Eyebrows tried again, and if the Doctor wasn’t stuck in her self-imposed cell, she might have hit him. This was his last chance- why couldn’t he say something to her? Why couldn’t he make sure that she died knowing how deeply she was loved.

“This is as brave as I know how to be. I know it’s gonna hurt you but- please. Be a little proud of me?”

There was a hopeful note to Clara’s tone despite everything, and in the end that was what really broke the Doctor. Her hand was pressed against the glass, desperate to say something, but unable to- the sands of time separated them more surely than the glass ever could.

“Always.” She promised, because if Eyebrows wouldn’t say it, then this new Doctor would. “I’m always gonna be proud of you.”

Clara turned away from her, and walked towards her grave.

“No no no no…”

The Doctor’s eyes blinked open, giving her a hazy view of the warm purple walls of the TARDIS library. She was curled up in one of the armchairs near the fire, her eyes still heavy with sleep. How long had it been since she’d last slept? Weeks, at least. Maybe months. And since she’d last slept properly? Well that had been decades.

Her hands ached from where she’d been clutching onto the arms of the chair.

Her eyes were already falling closed again, too exhausted to even force herself to stay awake.

“If you die here it’ll mean I never even met you.”

She’d never really appreciated how true that statement was. Without the Doctor blundering through her mother’s life, River Song would never have existed. Melody Williams (would she even have been called Melody, with the paradox of her name?) would have grown up safe and happy, the human daughter of the journalist and the nurse. She’d have had a normal life. She’d have been raised by loving parents, and have had a happy childhood, and maybe even brothers and sisters- maybe she’d have still written books, or taught archelogy, and had a much happier marriage than theirs had been.

Melody Pond would have been so much better off if she had never met the Doctor.

“Time can be rewritten.” For once, she seemed to be in agreement with Sandshoes. He was selfish, but at least he’d have been doing her a favour.

“Not those times. Not one line. Don't you dare. It's okay. It's okay. It's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me, time and space. You watch us run.”

Live great lives. That’s what she’d told her fam. If anyone had lived up to that, and lived a great life despite the Doctor’s meddling, it had been River Song. They’d had some amazing times, saved so many people, so many planets. There were stars out there still burning because River Song had been there to save them.

If the Doctor had found a better way around getting the people out of there, there might have been so many more.

The computer counting down the seconds left of her life in the background wasn’t helping the way that the Doctor’s hearts were pounding. She was crying, now- she wasn’t sure when that had begun.

From her cell, she watched Sandshoes babble on about his guilt- his suspicions, being expertly put down by River. She was so used to shutting him up when he was talking about things he didn’t know anything about- she could really use that, right now.

She should have saved her.

“Hush now. Spoilers…”

River smiled, and the Doctor lunged at the glass in front of her, shouting words that even she could barely comprehend. She was still clawing desperately at the glass when the room flashed bright white.

The Time Lord didn’t even fully wake that time, despite having thrown herself onto the floor at some point during her anguish. She was barely drawn out of her nightmares for a moment, a noise that sounded awfully like a whimper escaping her. Her eyes were shut too-tightly, and she had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, fingernails digging into her arms as though that would protect her from the horrors of her own mind.

“Who decides they’re so unimportant? You?”

The Doctor knew where she was this time without even looking up. Somehow, this scared her even more. She wasn’t watching a loved one die, she was watching her own stupid power-play blow up in her face. This hadn’t been a mercy mission, it’d been her trying to prove to the whole Universe that the Doctor had power over all.

“For a long time now I thought I was just a survivor, but I’m not. I’m the winner- that’s who I am. The Time Lord victorious.”

“And there’s no one to stop you?”

“No.”

“This is wrong, Doctor. I don’t care who you are. The Time Lord victorious is wrong.”

Captain Adelaide. She’d been so brilliant- she’d understood more about this than her idiot younger self ever could. The Doctor just about managed to give her a smile from behind her glass wall before she resumed staring at Sandshoes in disgust.

“That’s for me to decide. Now, you better get home.”

It was chilling. Watching her old face shift so quickly. Darkness turned cocky in an instant as he pointed his sonic at the door. Unlike with the other dreams, The Doctor wasn’t shouting. She didn’t try to say a word, just watched on with self-loathing and dread weighing down her hearts. A silent spectator of her darkest moment since the Time War.

Sandshoes smirked at that brave, doomed woman, challenging her to argue her fate further. He’d set himself up as a self-styled God. “Oh it’s all locked up- you’ve been away. Still, that’s easy.”

“Is there nothing you can’t do?”

“Not anymore.”

She watched as the great Time Lord Victorious turned his back on Adelaide. She watched as the captain drew her gun. She braced herself for that flash of blue light and the thud of a body hitting the floor.

“Don’t do it, Adelaide.” She was talking to nobody, but she still couldn’t help herself trying to butt in- trying to fix the damage she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t-“

“Doctor?”

A hand on her shoulder drew her out of there before she had to watch that, jolting her awake. She came to, immediately caught off guard by the shadow of someone standing over her, and the scent of a familiar perfume hitting her. It took her a moment or so to place it, but when she did her hearts picked up a little. Yaz. Brilliant, wonderful, human Yaz who’d probably just heard her rambling all sorts of scary nonsense in her sleep.

“Doctor are you alright?”

The Doctor swallowed a little too hard and sat up quickly enough to make her head spin, forcing a familiar, false grin to spread across her face. Her body was aching from sleeping on the wooden floor, and she was pretty sure she was going to be bruised from where she’d fallen off the chair.

“Yaz! Yasmin Khan- Sorry, must have nodded off-“ Her voice sounded a little false even to her own ears, and she did her best to pass it off with a yawn.

“Sorry, just, you were talkin’ in your sleep an’ I thought-“ Yaz looked a little sheepish about waking her, and her eyes were full of concern.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry- Time Lord. Vivid dreams- I was…” She forced another yawn, trying to give herself time to think of a lie. “Did I ever tell you about the time I met a real life siren on a pirate ship? That was a good one, that. Dream about that one a lot. M’fine, though. Really.”

Yaz shot her a look that showed she didn’t believe the Doctor for a moment. There was a beats pause, before she exploded

“Are you kiddin’ me?! You’re not ‘fine’!” She drew air quotes around that last word, straightening up, to stand over the Doctor, showing she was serious.

“I’m-“

“I swear if you say ‘fine’ I’m gonna-”

The Doctor shut her mouth before Yaz could finish the threat.

There was a tense moment, almost like a standoff between the two of them, before Yasmin’s hard eyes softened, and she bent down to help the Doctor to her feet.

“I’m worried about y’.”

Suppressing her initial urge to insist that she was fine, the Doctor bit her lip.

“You shouldn’t be.” She eventually managed.

“When was the last time ‘y slept?” Yaz asked.

“About a minute ago.” The Doctor tried to make a joke. Yaz laughed weakly.

“Before that.” She clarified, glancing at the floor where she’d found the doctor collapsed.

“…I don’t remember.” The Doctor admitted.

Yaz sucked in a surprised breath through clenched teeth.

“Doctor-“

“I’m not human. I don’t need as much sleep as you lot.”

Raising an eyebrow, Yaz gave her another of those easy, disbelieving looks. “And that’s why I found you passed out on the floor cryin’?”

The Doctor blinked, bringing her hand up to her face. Sure enough, she’d been crying- she hadn’t even realised. Waking up with tears in her eyes was just normal by now.

“What’s so bad that it’s keepin’ you up?” Yaz leant forwards, taking one of the Doctor’s hands in both of her own. “Please don’t lie to me.”

There was an earnestness in her eyes that reminded the Doctor of all the people she’d loved most. Rose, Amy, River, Clara. Even Koschei. She’d always liked the people who could be honest with her the best- she needed honest people to stop her tearing herself apart and taking everyone else with her.

“I’ve lost a lot of people, Yaz.” She said, resigned note in her voice. “You saw Gallifrey. My home world is gone, my wife is gone, my children are gone, my granddaughter is gone. I’ve lost most of my friends, and- since Gallifrey, I can’t block them out anymore. I see them die every night.”

All at once, Yaz leaned forwards, just like Clara had in her dream, wrapping her arms tightly around the Doctor, holding her grounded to the spot. Even that brief contact allowed some of the tension in the Doctor’s body to loosen, her shoulder’s slumping as she leant into the contact.

“’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

Yaz pulled herself back from the hug, keeping her hands firmly on the Doctor’s arms, so she could ground her while looking her in the eyes.

“Have you got a bedroom on board?” She asked.

“Somewhere. How come?”

Yaz smiled, “Because you’ve gotta sleep sometime, and I think it’s probably comfier than the floor.” She let one of her hands fall, the other moving up to brush the hair out of the Doctor’s eyes. “Come on.”

She caught Yaz’s wrist in her hand, suddenly looking nervous. She was really worried where her subconscious would go from what had to be one of the worst things she’d ever done. “I don’t wanna. Not yet.”

“Y’ need to.” Yaz insisted, still trying her best to smile. The Doctor recognised that look from how often she herself wore it- that false-cheer that just barely covered the worry. “I promise I’ll sit with y’ the whole time- I can wake you up if you start makin’ noise.”

The Doctor thought about that for a minute. It’d certainly been easier to deal with the dream about Adelaide since she’d been pulled out of it before she actually had to hear the shot go off. If Yaz could pull her out of the bad moments before she had to see anything too bad- Maybe it would let the Doctor get a bit of sleep. It wasn’t the most elegant solution, and it didn’t seem as though it would last too long, but- it was an infinitely better one than her current plan of depriving herself of sleep until she could hardly stand.

“You really wouldn’t mind?” She eventually asked, her fingers still resting around Yaz’s wrist, though she wasn’t trying to use them to push her away any more.

“I love you. Let me take care of you, for once.”

There was another slight pause, before the Doctor let go of her hand, nodding. “Okay.”

Yaz let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?” The Doctor turned to her, genuine confusion etched across her features.

Yaz took another step closer, cupping the Doctor’s face in one hand, and giving her the most genuine smile either of them had shared since they’d reunited. “For letting me in.”

#thirteenth doctor #doctor who #thasmin #yasmin khan #yaz khan #madeathing

11 notes · View notes

sheliesshattered · 3 years

Text

First Christmas, Chapter 1 of 3

Clara/Twelve Last Christmas AU. Latest part in the ongoing series For As Long As We Get, but can be read as a stand-alone. Three chapters, 16,000 words, complete. Episode remix, action/adventure, married banter, angst with a happy ending. Available on AO3 under the same title and username.

First Christmas, Chapter 1

“Clara, when I said you could pick anywhere you wanted to go for Christmas Eve, I really had hoped you would choose something a little more scenic,” the Doctor groused as he put the TARDIS into park.

“Oh shush, the north pole will be plenty scenic,” his wife replied, glancing up from shoving her feet into snowboots. She hadn’t changed out of her festive nightgown, just thrown a warm coat overtop, which had created an unusual combination, even by his standards.

“You do realise there isn’t actually a pole at the north pole? Or any proper land for that matter? There’s nothing there, just ice and snow! It isn’t even magnetic north! Why don’t we go to the south pole? At least then we might see penguins.”

“The south pole may indeed have penguins,” she allowed, finally wiggling into her second boot, “but it doesn’t have Santa,” she said, grinning at him.

“The north pole doesn’t have Santa, either,” he pointed out. “Given that Santa Claus is, in fact, entirely imaginary.”

“That’s what you said about Robin Hood,” Clara laughed. “And look how that turned out!”

“For the record, I’m still not convinced about Robin Hood, either.”

“Don’t be such a grinch, Doctor,” she chided him fondly as she started for the TARDIS doors. “It’s Christmas Eve, and I want to see the north pole. We only have to stay a few minutes.”

“Honestly, Clara,” he said, trailing after her, “it’s not like we’re going to stumble across Santa’s Workshop out there.”

“Oh, really?” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Then what do you call this?” She threw open both of the TARDIS doors with a flourish, her voice full of such joyful conviction that for half a moment, the Doctor actually thought they might see a life-sized toymakers’ workshop made of candy canes and gingerbread.

Instead, the sight that greeted them was far from scenic, much as he’d predicted. Heavy snowflakes filled the air, half obscuring a drab grey building set immediately opposite the TARDIS, roughly twenty metres away.

“Huh,” Clara said, letting her hands drop from the doors. “I thought you said there wasn’t anything at the north pole?”

He glared at the inexplicable building. “There shouldn’t be,” he replied. “Not in this time period.”

“It looks like some sort of research base,” she said, taking a few steps outside to get a better look, the snow crunching beneath her boots.

“As I said, possibly the least scenic and least romantic spot you could have chosen,” he stated flatly, reluctantly following her out of the TARDIS and closing the doors behind him.

She turned to look at him, walking backwards and grinning mischievously. “Or maybe Santa has just cleverly disguised his shop as a research facility, to keep nosy parkers like us out.”

“If we go in there and find nothing but a load of boring scientists, will you at least let me choose our next destination?” the Doctor sighed.

“Deal,” Clara said, turning to scamper off towards the heavy looking door that led into the research base.

“And if you fall on your face in the snow, we’re going back to Christmas Eve Plan A: hot cocoa by the fireplace in the library!” he called after her.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You, sir, have forgotten one very important part of Christmas Eve Plan A, and don’t think I didn’t notice!”

“Which is what?” he asked, catching up to her just as she stopped outside the door.

“We agreed to hot cocoa with mini marshmallows,” Clara said, prodding the centre of his chest with one finger. “It’s not really Christmas without marshmallows!”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Yes, fine. Hot cocoa with mini marshmallows, beside the fire in the library. Just as soon as you accept the reality that this is not actually Santa’s Workshop.”

“Then why is there mistletoe?” she asked, one eyebrow raised as she directed his attention to the green sprig of vegetation above them.

“Right, because only Santa’s mythical workshop would hang mistletoe in a doorway at Christmas,” he said dryly.

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me,” she said, laughing. She gripped his lapels in each hand and pulled him down to her as she rose up on her toes, meeting him halfway for a quick peck. “Now then,” she said, holding his gaze from only a few inches away, “do you think you can sonic this door open? Because it is really quite cold out here, and I’m dying to know if I’m right about Santa.”

“I can guarantee you’re not right about Santa,” he told her, as she sank back to her normal height and rubbed her arms briskly.

“Doctor,” Clara said, her laughter still evident through her whinging tone, “just open the door already!”

“Yes, boss,” he said, pulling the sonic screwdriver from his pocket and pointing it at the handwheel on the bulkhead door, setting it to spinning. The heavy door creaked as it swung outward slightly, and he shouldered it the rest of the way open, leading the way through. Whatever this misplaced building was, he didn’t trust the look of it one bit.

A frightened yelp from immediately in front of him drew his attention, revealing a young woman crouched on the tile floor of what appeared to be an infirmary. There were four hospital beds lining the wall to his right, their occupants draped head to toe in white sheets.

“We’ve got ghosts!” the woman cried, panic clear in her voice. “Yeah, yeah, it’s a skeleton man and a girl in a nighty,” she went on, as the Doctor spotted the communication device in her ear.

He glanced at Clara, and by unspoken agreement he went left while she went right, splitting up to investigate the room faster. His side of the room contained another empty bed and various other standard issue twenty-first century medical equipment — boring, and decidedly un-Christmassy.

“Doctor,” Clara called, and he glanced over to see her leaning in to examine one of the covered bodies. “What are they?”

“No, no, no! You’re making me think about them!” the woman on the floor said, her eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t make me think about them!”

Moving quickly to join Clara on the other side of the room, he pulled the sonic from his coat pocket again and scanned the figures. “I think we can safely assume they’re not Santa’s elves,” he told her.

In unison, all four bodies slowly sat up, the sheets covering them falling away to reveal human figures with slimy grey alien heads, eerie in their wrongness. Clara darted back a step instinctively, and the Doctor had to suppress the urge to put himself between his wife and the potential threat, knowing she would hardly appreciate his overprotectiveness.

“Just, don’t ask,” the woman told them. “And don’t look. Don’t make me think about them!”

He scanned them again. “Deaf. Blind,” he said, based on the sonic’s readings. “How can they see us? How do they even know that we’re here?”

“They can only see you, yeah, if you see them,” the woman explained. “So just, don’t look, don't even think about them.”

“Oh, telepathic,” the Doctor realised. “They can home in on their own image in someone else's brain. Third-party perception. Mind piracy.” He turned to Clara. “We're being hacked!”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“The visual input from your optic nerve is being streamed to their brains. Stop broadcasting. Close your eyes,” he told her, waiting until she’d done as he asked to close his eyes as well.

He listened intently, focusing on the sound of slow shuffling footsteps approaching.

“...They’re still coming, aren’t they?” Clara said, a hint of panic working its way into her tone.

“It's because we’re still thinking about them. So long as you retain them as an active memory, they can still home in. Think about something else.”

“How?”

“So here it is, merry Christmas,” the woman on the floor began to sing, slightly out of tune.

“Why is she singing?” Clara asked.

“She’s running interference,” he replied. “She’s trying to distract herself. Three hundred and four minus seventeen.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Plus twenty. Just do it!”

“Why are you quizzing me on maths at a time like this??” Clara demanded.

“You have to think about something else, anything else!”

“Does it have to be maths?”

“First Jane Austen quote that comes to mind!” he said, changing tacks. “Quickly, Clara, our lives may depend on it!”

“Um,” she stuttered anxiously. “‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man—’ What are they doing, Doctor? I can still hear them coming!”

“Because you’re still thinking about them. Don’t think about them, think about that quote!”

He knew he had to clear his mind as well, find something else to fixate on besides the threat slowly approaching. Grabbing hold of the first available thought, he tried to flood his mind with something completely disconnected from this moment. Christmas Eve Plan A, cocoa in the library, and Clara curled up next to him—

“‘—that a single man—’” she started again, her voice shaking with fear.

That was no good, not nearly vivid enough to distract him. Christmas Eve Plan B, then, in their bedroom on the TARDIS—

“‘—in possession of a good fortune—’”

It wouldn’t work to simply think of something else, he realised, not so long as the fear of the creatures remained. They had to do something more, something to clear their minds completely.

“‘—must be in want of a—’”

In one swift movement, the Doctor leaned down, cupped Clara’s face in both hands, and kissed her soundly.

He expected to feel her surprise seep through his fingertips, and he searched for the connection between their minds, but there was nothing, just a jumbled silence that unnerved him even more than the alien threat.

“Right, the time for snogging is over, now’s the time to run!” the stranger called to them, and he broke away from Clara, grabbing her hand and pulling her along behind him as they sprinted towards the far door on the heels of the other woman. The door swished open before they reached it, revealing three more people, each carrying a large gun.

“Go, run, now, now!” one of them called, waving them forward.

“Here they come!” yelled another, his gun pointed towards the ceiling, and the Doctor looked up to see grey carcinoform aliens descending from the rafters, heading straight for them.

The gut wrenching sound of Clara’s scream was cut off by an explosion from behind them, and he whirled around to see the door leading to the outside completely gone, replaced by a gaping hole in the wall. As he watched, a single tangerine rolled through the smoking rubble, followed by a surreal parade of slinkies and toy robots.

“Whoa, whoa boy!” called a voice, and the Doctor blinked hard at the apparition in the snow just beyond the ruined infirmary wall. A stout man wearing a red suit trimmed in white fur was dismounting from a reindeer decked out in jingle bells, like an illustration from a children’s book come to life. Glancing at Clara, he found her staring at the inexplicable man as well, disbelief beginning to shift to joy in the curl of her mouth.

“Well, now. What seems to be the problem?” the man said as he approached through the remnants of the explosion. “This is the north pole. We don’t want any trouble here. Oi, sleepy heads!” he went on, turning to the alien-headed creatures. “It’s Christmas Eve, early to bed.” He clapped his hands and the sleepers obediently turned and shuffled back towards their hospital beds.

“Who the hell are you?” one of the gun-toting women behind the Doctor demanded of the newcomer.

“Take a guess,” the Doctor said acerbically, turning to her. “Go on, push the boat out. Tooth Fairy, maybe? Easter Bunny?”

“No, this is ridiculous,” said the gobby one they’d encountered first. Her puffy gilet helpfully labelled her ‘Shona’. “Am I— am I dreaming??”

Her question jarred a memory loose, and the Doctor realised where he’d seen creatures like this before. “Oh, very good,” he muttered, his mind racing through the implications.

“I need to know exactly who you are, and what’s happening here,” the other woman said as the red-suited man approached her.

“Hello, Ashley,” the apparition of Santa Claus said, nudging the muzzle of her gun out of the way. “Lead scientist on a polar expedition! Oh, that microscope really paid off, didn't it? Now, your mum and dad wanted me to get you a toy one, but sometimes, I take a chance.”

“Who are you?” Ashley demanded. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Why do you think?” he asked, spreading his arms wide like the answer ought to be self-evident.

“This is mental,” Shona said. “This is totally not happening!”

“I’ve got three words, Shona,” Santa said to her. “Don’t make me use ‘em.”

“What three words?”

“My. Little. Pony,” he said, ticking the words off on his fingers.

“Shut up, you!” Shona shot back.

“Doctor,” Clara said, looking up at him, “what’s going on? He can’t really be—?”

“Of course I am!” the festive dream construct replied before the Doctor could. “Come on now, Clara. You of all people ought to believe in impossible heroes! You said so yourself!”

She gave him a bemused smile. “I didn’t actually think...”

“There’s no time for all that now,” Santa said, waving it away. “We’re in the middle of an invasion!” He whistled, and his reindeer plodded in through the ruined wall, stopping beside him. Reaching into the saddlebags, he produced a large transparent container. Inside, the Doctor recognised the same sort of carcinoform alien that had descended from the ceiling before the explosion — the same sort that were wrapped around the heads of the sleepers in their hospital beds.

“What do you think, Doctor?” he went on, handing him the specimen container. “You seen them before?”

“Once, a long time ago,” the Doctor replied, taking the container and holding it up to get a better look. The creature inside looked dead or dormant, not so much as twitching with the movement.

“The Kantrofarri,” Santa said, echoing the exact word that had been rattling around the Doctor’s mind the last few minutes.

“Colloquially known as the dream crabs,” he explained to Clara.

“Depending on how many of those are already on Earth,” Santa said, “the human race may well have seen its last day. So, are we going to stand around arguing about whether or not I’m real, or are we going to get busy saving Christmas?”

Ashley cast a quick glance at the others. “Whatever the hell this is, we can’t stay here to figure it out — we’ll die of exposure, with that wall gone. Come on, we have a laboratory, down this way,” she said, turning to lead them out of the infirmary.

“What I’d tell you?” the Doctor said quietly to Clara as he fell into step beside her. “Load of boring scientists.”

“Oh, you are loving this, aren’t you?” she smirked up at him. “Middle of an invasion and all you can focus on is how you were right.”

He shrugged easily. “Have to enjoy the little things, now don’t we?”

They followed Ashley into the laboratory, where she and the others divested themselves of their large guns. “Question him,” she said to Shona, with a tilt of her head towards Father Christmas. “Now then,” she went on, turning to the Doctor. “Who are you, and what is that?”

“I’m the Doctor, this is Clara,” he replied, dispensing with the pleasantries as quickly as possible. “And this is what attacked your sleeping friends back in the infirmary,” he added, depositing the specimen container on a nearby table.

“Is it dead?” Clara asked, glancing up at him.

“I don’t know. Possibly.”

“I’m assuming it’s extra-terrestrial,” Ashley said, leaning down to examine the dream crab.

“Oh, definitely,” the Doctor said.

“Then how can you have seen them before?” she asked, straightening back up.

“Guess.”

She pressed her mouth into an unhappy line. “Because you’re extra-terrestrial, too.”

“Do you believe that?” he asked her.

“As a scientist, I have to examine all the evidence, consider all the possibilities. I’m not ruling anything out.”

“Smart,” he said appreciatively.

“If you have seen these before,” Ashley went on, “I need you to tell me everything you know about them.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why’s it called a dream crab, for a start?”

“Theorise.”

“Because it generates a telepathic field,” she said, naming their most obvious feature.

“And?”

“Alters perception.”

“Meaning?”

Ashley levelled an exasperated look at him. “I seem to be doing all the work here.”

“Meaning we can’t trust anything we see or hear,” Clara supplied, and the Doctor suppressed the proud smile that tried to curve his mouth.

“Go to the window,” he told Ashley.

“Why?”

“Because it gets worse.”

With a skeptical look, Ashley crossed the room to the window, looking out at where the TARDIS stood faintly glowing in the falling snow. “What is that?” she asked.

“That’s how Clara and I got here.”

“In a box?” she said, disbelieving.

“Technically, in a telephone kiosk,” the Doctor said with a grin.

She let out a surprised laugh. “How?”

“Because it’s a spaceship in disguise,” he told her. “You know what the big problem is in telling fantasy and reality apart?”

“What?”

“They’re both ridiculous.”

Ashley cast a glance towards where Shona was questioning Santa Claus in the far corner. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

“So we don’t know what’s real and what isn’t,” Clara said, eyeing Santa as well.

“Exactly,” the Doctor said.

“Are we in danger?” she asked seriously, turning back to him.

“Oh, we are well past danger, Clara. If I’m right, and I usually am—” he ignored Clara’s exasperated little huff, “—then we are dying.”

“Then how do we stay alive?” Ashley asked.

“Oh, I like you,” he said, pointing at her, “straight to the point. I want you to show me how you first encountered those creatures, and what happened to those people in the infirmary. I notice you all wear mini-cams, so I assume that there’s footage?”

“Is it possible I’m about to work with someone who might be a dream?”

“If it helps, so am I,” he smiled at her.

“We have footage on the drives, down in the control room,” she replied, tilting her head towards the hallway that led further into the base. “I’ll see what we can pull up.”

“Ashley,” he called after her as she turned to go, “what’s this polar base for? Why are you all here?”

“It’s a long story,” she said, then continued down the hallway, the other two boring scientists trailing after her.

Clara watched them go, then looked at him. “Do we need to have a rule about snogging during life and death situations?” she asked, eyeing him.

He shrugged. “I’m in favour of it.”

“The rule?”

“The snogging,” he said, grinning. “It worked, didn’t it? I had to flood your mind with random emotion.”

“Random emotion?” she demanded, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe not random,” he allowed, “but better than fear, anyway.”

She studied him for a moment, that skeptical eyebrow still raised. “Stood way over here, no telepathy or anything, and I can tell exactly what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about Christmas Eve Plan B, and don’t even try to deny it.”

“I seem to remember that you weren’t exactly opposed to Plan B.”

She made an equivocal noise, tilting her head to one side. “Not opposed to it, no. But there was a distressing lack of marshmallows in Plan B.”

“And yet a delightful lack of clothing,” he grinned at her.

She pressed her lips together, clearly trying to suppress a smile. “There’s no reason we can’t do both,” she said levelly, “once we’re done with whatever this is, Plan C I suppose. We live in a time machine, it can be Christmas Eve as long as we want.”

“You live in a time machine?” Shona asked in disbelief as she approached, notebook and pen in hand. Behind her, Santa Claus was on his mobile phone, grousing at whatever imagined entity was supposedly on the other end.

“Indeed we do,” Clara said, turning to Shona. “That blue box, right out there,” she went on, gesturing to the TARDIS visible through the window.

“That’s a telephone box,” Shona said skeptically. “One of those old ones, yeah? For phoning the police.”

“A clever disguise,” the Doctor shrugged.

“You’re as bad as Beardy-Weirdy over there,” she said, nodding at Santa. “Don’t make a bit of sense, neither of you.”

“You don’t seem like much of a scientist,” he told her.

“That’s a bit rude,” she shot back, “coming from a magician.”

He caught Clara’s muffled snort of laughter but said to Shona, “Why are you out here? What brought you to the North Pole?”

She shrugged. “Long story, isn’t it?”

Glancing at the notes she’d taken while interrogating Santa, the Doctor said. “You missed a killer question.”

“What?”

“Beardy-Weirdy,” he called.

“Yeah?” Santa replied, angling his mobile away from his face.

“How do you get all the presents in the sleigh?”

He smirked at him. “It’s bigger on the inside.”

Clara coughed to cover her giggle, and the Doctor shot her a sour look.

Ashley came down the hall from the control room. “Doctor,” she called to him, “Bellows has found that footage you wanted to see, come on.”

The Doctor and Clara followed her to the control room, with Shona and Santa Claus trailing behind them. When they entered, they found the third woman, Bellows, stood at a control panel in front of a bank of video monitors. The polar team’s fourth member, Professor Albert, lingered nearby eating a turkey leg.

“Sorry,” he said when he noticed the Doctor’s attention, “starving.”

Ignoring him, he turned away and focused on the monitors displaying footage from four separate cameras recording one event from multiple vantage points. “What am I looking at?” he asked.

“Footage from a week ago,” Bellows replied. “A side expedition from our main mission.”

“What is your main mission?”

“Long story,” she said dismissively, waving it away. “This is in an ice cave directly beneath this base. Now, look at what we found.” The footage focused on a cluster of Kantrofarri hanging from the ceiling of the ice cave, unmoving. “Dormant at first,” Bellows went on.

“Until you looked at them too long,” the Doctor said. “‘Til you thought about them.”

“Exactly.”

He stepped closer to the monitors, trying to get a better look. “Sleeping. Probably been down there for centuries.”

“And it wakes up when you think about it?” Clara asked.

“They can detect their own mental picture in any nearby mind,” he reminded her.

“That’s Bellows’ theory,” Ashley agreed, nodding.

“It’s like it responds to the presence of any data concerning itself,” Bellows said.

“That was always the legend,” the Doctor replied, gaze still fixed on the footage from the ice cave as the initial encounter played out. “You think about a dream crab, a dream crab is coming for you.”

“This is where it gets really nasty,” Albert said around a bite of turkey.

“Only now?” Clara said dryly.

The footage turned to panicked disarray as the cluster of dream crabs descended onto the scientists, the cameras each cutting to static in quick succession.

“Okay, then what?” the Doctor asked, glancing at Bellows.

With a few keystrokes, she pulled up another set of footage, security cameras showing multiple angles on the base’s infirmary, before the explosion, and the Doctor watched as Bellows, Ashley, and the others guided the incapacitated scientists to the hospital beds.

“They’re a bit like facehuggers, aren’t they?” Albert said, still gnawing on his never-ending drumstick.

“Face huggers?” the Doctor asked, turning to him.

“You know, ‘Alien’. The horror movie ‘Alien’,” he replied.

“There’s a horror movie called ‘Alien’?” the Doctor demanded of the room as a whole. “That’s really offensive, no wonder everyone keeps invading you!”

Beside him, Clara snorted and subtly elbowed him in the ribs.

“At first, they just slept,” Bellows said, redirecting his attention to the footage on the monitors. “Couple of days, just lying there.”

“And then they got aggressive?” the Doctor asked.

“If we got close enough, yeah,” Ashley said.

“It would take the dream crab a little while to establish control. Depends how much of the host brain was...” he trailed off, making a face.

“Was what?” Ashley asked, sounding like she didn’t actually want to know.

“...Digested,” the Doctor finished delicately. How long until the rest of them began to suspect what had happened right before the explosion in the infirmary? Hopefully not just yet. It had taken him some time to put together the pieces, after all. He needed them focused on solving the problem, he couldn’t let them descend into panic.

Ashley looked a bit nauseous. “Are they still alive under there?”

“Depends what you’d call ‘alive’,” he replied grimly.

“Are they suffering?” she clarified.

“No. No, no, no. The dream crab induces a dream state. Keeps you happy and relaxed, in a perfectly realised dream world, as you dissolve. Merciful, I suppose.”

“Compared to what?” Albert demanded.

“Compared to that turkey leg you keep eating! Could you rewind for me?” he asked Bellows. “I’d like to see them dormant again. Clara, could you fetch me the dead one?”

“Hmm, maybe I’ll fetch myself a mug of cocoa while I’m at it.”

“My very next suggestion.”

She smirked up at him. “Fair enough.” She squeezed his hand briefly, then turned and headed back to the laboratory.

“That one we have in the lab,” Ashley said, nodding towards the hall Clara had disappeared down, “how sure are you that it’s dead?”

“Not as sure as I’d like to be,” he replied, his eyes still on the monitors. “It looks too much like the cluster your team found in the ice cave.”

“I had the same thought,” she agreed. “We need to handle it with care, then, assume it’s alive until we have absolute proof otherwise. I’ve got the infirmary on lockdown, but the last thing we need is that one waking up and attacking someone in this wing of the base.”

On the screens, the dormant Kantrofarri surged into sudden action, overwhelming the scientists, and the Doctor stiffened, a terrible realisation hitting him.

“What’s wrong?” Ashley asked.

“We’re thinking about it!” he bit out, too frantic to explain himself further. “Clara!”

He spun away from the monitors and dashed down the hallway to the laboratory, the polar team close on his heels, Santa Claus following behind.

“Clara!” he called again, skidding to a stop in the lab. His gaze landed first on the broken specimen container on the floor, and then on Clara’s snowboots peeking out from under the table. With a terrible lurch in his stomach, he dropped to his knees beside her, grabbing for her hand. It was limp in his own, and a quick glance at her face confirmed his fears: the dream crab was wrapped around her head, just like the sleepers in the infirmary.

“Clara,” he said, squeezing her hand, “you’re dreaming— you’re dying. Can you hear me? Clara!”

“We did try to wake the others,” Ashley said. “No stimulus worked.”

“Okay, we kill it,” the Doctor said in a rush, pushing back to his feet. “We find a way to kill it and we get it off of her. How do we kill it?”

“There’s no way to kill it without killing your friend, too,” she replied. “And as a scientist, may I just say, I don’t like the way you’re talking.”

“She’s not just my friend, she’s my wife, so perhaps you can understand why I find that answer unacceptable!” He turned away from her, uninterested in any further input she might have. “Santa, in the infirmary, you told the sleepers to go to bed and they obeyed you.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged, “doesn’t mean I can get that creature off her.”

“No, but you can get back in there unharmed.”

“What? You’re asking Santa for help?” Shona demanded. “He doesn’t exist!”

“And how would you know that?” the Doctor snarled back at her. “How did you become an expert on what does and doesn’t exist?

“Says the man who travels in a time machine disguised as a police box, married to a woman half his age!”

“Shut up!” he said, pointing at her. “Clara has a rule against explaining our marriage to small-minded people for exactly this reason. Kris Kringle, you’re up.”

“I can commit several million housebreaks in one night dressed in a red suit with jingle bells,” Santa said mildly, “of course I can get back into the infirmary.”

“Good. Because there is only one way that I can communicate with Clara, only one way to wake her up. I need you to get one of the dream crabs and bring it back here.”

Santa raised his eyebrows. “You realise what you’re asking?”

“Consider it the extent of my Christmas wishlist. Now go!”

“This is proper mental,” Shona said once Santa had gone. “You’re gonna, what? Put a dream crab on your face and hope for the best?”

“The dream crabs create a shared dream state,” he explained, more to keep his mind occupied than out of any real desire to help her understand. “If I can get in there, I can pull Clara out.”

“Then how come none of the rest of them have been able to wake themselves up?”

“Clara has one advantage they don’t have,” he said, turning to kneel beside her again. “Me!”

It seemed to take an unreasonably long time for Santa to return, but when he finally did, it was with another specimen container in hand. Unlike the last, this Kantrofarri skittered inside its enclosure, tapping at the glass, searching for a victim.

“Go away,” the Doctor told the polar team before they could try to talk him out of his plan. “Go back to the control room and think about something else. I’m not going to risk all of your lives as well.”

“Doctor—” Ashley started anyway.

“Go!” he said, pointing to the exit and leaving no room for argument, and one by one the scientists turned and shuffled out of the room.

“Bring it over here,” he said to Santa as he sat down beside Clara’s still form. “I think I’ve got a better chance at this if I’m in physical contact with Clara.”

“You sure about all this, Doctor?” Santa asked, crouching beside him.

He cast a quick glance down the hallway to make sure none of the others were listening, then said quietly, “I’m sure I’m already dreaming, and have been since the explosion in the infirmary. Which means that you are just a manifestation of my subconscious, or possibly the collective subconsciousnesses of everyone in the polar base.”

“You’re the science-y one, I’m just the jingle bells one,” Santa shrugged, “but that sounds logical to me.”

“Which means you even asking that question is really me asking myself — or an echo of the combined worry of the pudding brains in there,” he said, tilting his head towards the other room.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not worth asking. Are you sure about this, Doctor?” Santa said again. “What if it kills you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the Doctor replied, shaking his head. “If I can’t get Clara back, none of this matters.”

“You love her that much?”

“Rhetorical question,” he said, arranging himself on the floor beside her and lacing his fingers through hers. “Yes, I love her that much. I’d go to hell if it meant even a chance of getting her back.”

“You may yet, Doctor,” Santa said ruefully, hefting the Kantrofarri. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Santa.”

“Don’t say I never brought you anything for Christmas,” he sighed as he lowered the dream crab towards the Doctor, and then the world went black.

Chapter 2

#Whouffaldi #Twelve/Clara #Clara Oswald/Twelfth Doctor #Clara and the Doctor #Doctor Who #Doctor Who fanfic #available on AO3 under the same title and username #please comment and reblog!#Last Christmas #AUs #First Christmas #For As Long As We Get #my writing

21 notes · View notes