"Don't make friends who are comfortable to be with. Make friends who will force you to lever yourself up." - Thomas J. Watson

Majenta Pryce does not sleep.

It's part of her species' genetic makeup (or so he figures), so she never feels tired, not beyond her usual self-indulgent laziness. It's actually quite fun, for the most part. There's no need to stop in the middle of a series of adventures for eight hours of companion-rest time and there's no worry about making camp in the middle of an alien forest. She's even gone so far as to pull her bed out of her bedroom on the TARDIS and replace it with a lounger for when she sits up to watch the late-night soaps on ITV (The Intergalactic Television Viewer).

The only time it bothers the Doctor is when he needs to rest. The few hours he needs a week used to seem like nothing, but now that he's the only TARDIS traveler who needs sleep, he finds that time before he falls into trance more worrying than anything. What is Majenta up to while he sleeps? Is she behaving herself? Is she toying with the console? Sometimes, he stays up as long as he thinks he can, before collapsing wherever he was out of exhaustion for a few hours.

It's not that he doesn't trust her---well, no. The term "as far as he could throw her" might apply to the Doctor and Majenta if the Doctor wasn't absolutely certain Majenta would knock him out cold before he managed to even try to throw her anywhere. Majenta's not a willing companion, and she's not even a companion he's certain he wants around most days. And while he's sleeping…she could be up to anything.

And, after she kicked down her bedroom door when he tried to lock her in that first time, he's learned that he has no choice but to trust her while she's on board.

It's early. He blinks and finds he's fallen asleep at the edge of his bed in a somewhat awkward position that's left his neck a little sore. He straightens, rubs the back of his neck, and tries to remember where he was when he went out.

Working on the console? No, no, talking to Majenta. Her instructing him where they'd go next while he insisted that her ordering the TARDIS about would do no good. He then said something along the lines of "I'm tired," to which she replied, "Then get to your bedroom, because I'm just leaving you on the floor if you fall asleep on it again. Lazy Time Lords."

And, apparently he made it to his bedroom and she went off to do whatever it was she did while he slept. This must be what it's like for his human companions, he thinks. They're never certain what the Doctor's up to while they sleep.

He starts towards the console room because, really, wherever she's ended up she'll go back there. The TARDIS is deep, but there's only one way out.

"---no regretting stuff, all right? I chose this---"

The Doctor can hear the recording playing in the console room and the slow walk turns into a run. Of all the bloody things that ridiculous woman could've gotten into… )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,734 not including dialogue from Comic #399 "Time of My Life"
I have made the decision to make Majenta Pryce from the DWM comics part of this Doctor's canon. Why? Because she's an amazing companion and I think she should be! Like Frobisher, she's only a companion in the comics, but I adore her (though perhaps not as much as our favorite penguin-shaped shape shifter). EDIT: Sorry, I've been reminded that Frobisher was also in a few audios. Rather than simply dropping her on y'all as I originally intended to, I've decided to include copies of her canon here.

Also, internet. Why do you fail me? First, no rule 34 porn of Majenta and Zed. Second, no scans of the comic. None at all. So, I'm working on scanning them. Please feel free to read and to love her as much as I love her. My scanner is not the best and if you can't read something, just let me know. I'll upload part two and three of ThinkTwice tomorrow, and work on The Stockbridge Child as it develops.

Please remember this artwork is not mine and is the property of the BBC and Doctor Who Magazine, only uploaded here for posterity's sake. I have legally purchased all of these Doctor Who Magazines and will continue to purchase them at the ridiculous price of $8.99 an issue until I can find the money to get a subscription.

Hotel Historia story and art by Dan McDaid

ThinkTwice Part One written by Dan McDaid art by Martin Geraghty
Anatomy of a Scene. Cut for spoilers to 4.10 'Midnight'. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 700 not including dialogue from 4.10 'Midnight'
"Everything passes. Nobody gets anything for keeps. And that's how we've got to live." Haruki Murakami.

They begin things at the end. Cut for spoilers to 4.09 'The Forest of the Dead'. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 4,390
Danny Ocean: Does he make you laugh?
Tess Ocean: He doesn't make me cry.
-- Steven Soderbergh's remake of Ocean's Eleven

"So, when did this happen?"

The Doctor doesn't have to explain. Cut for mild spoilers to 4.04 'The Sontaran Stratagem'. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Partner: Martha Jones (Canon)
Word Count: 670
If you realize that all things change, there is nothing you will try to hold on to. If you aren't afraid of dying, there is nothing you can't achieve.
- Tao Te Ching

Anatomy of a Scene. Cut for spoilers to 4.02, 'The Fires of Pompeii'. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 772
It all came about rather suddenly, he thinks. After he left the Master's body burning, after Martha took her shivering parents home, they met back up at the TARDIS. It was still red and painful with the remainder of the paradox machine, but Martha went immediately to her bedroom, where everything was turned over and poked through by the Master while he had it.

He followed, of course. Stepped inside and watched as she righted a chair and picked up the glass from a broken frame. She stopped, suddenly, and turned to face him.

"Did you miss me?" she asked.

There was nothing witty to say, he simply nodded. She stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around him. But she was always better at showing emotion than he was. Her mouth pressed against his and his body responded without prompting. He had a brief thought that he really should deny her again, but why? The way he saw it, they were all each other had in that moment.

And now, they lay together on her bed, his arms around her tiny shoulders that held up the world. She breathes on the bare skin of his chest and listens to the sounds of his hearts.

'Never get used to that,' she says, and he can feel her lips curve into a smile. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,198
Partner: Martha Jones (canon)
So, this trip didn't go nearly as well as he'd hoped.

Though now that he thinks about it, that's not anything very new.

He's standing before a large pillar. On the pillar is a great face looking down at him and his three companions. In his hand is a broken broomstick, procured by unpleasant methods. On his feet are bright red Converses. The Converses, while both stylish and comfortable, are possibly the most frustrating footwear he's ever owned. When the TARDIS landed here, wherever here is, it crushed an evil sorcerer who was wearing the shoes. The sorcerer death passed the shoes on, and since the TARDIS belongs to the Doctor, the Converses transferred themselves to the Doctor's feet. Even though he was originally wearing quite lovely white Converses and red clashes with a brown suit. And another evil sorcerer---this one with a wide, terrifying smile and a habit of drumming his fingers---became obsessed with killing the Doctor to obtain them. The Doctor tried to direct him to a local shoe shop to buy his own, but seeing as he wasn't certain where he was it made giving directions difficult.

But a bucket of water and some unpleasantness later, the Doctor and his companions bested the Sorcerer and came to this face in the stone, this...Wizard bloke in order to obtain directions back through the rift. His companions have their own desires, all of which are valid, but he needs to leave this place and seal the rift behind him. He doesn't want to think what damage he is doing to this brightly-colored world and its inhabitants by staying.

There's the Straw Man, of course. Straw Idiot, the Doctor likes to call him. He can't figure out why, "Idiot" seems like a rather harsh term. And the Straw Man is trying to find a brain, after all. The material used to bind him is dark, and he has straw sticking out of the places where the stitching doesn't quite mesh in. He's in a Nintendo t-shirt that's torn a bit in places from all of their adventuring, and some ratty jeans.

The Tin Man, he's a bit of a mystery, even to the Doctor. His skin is grey, just about matching the long grey coat he always wears. He's all bright smiles and boyish good looks, but he tells the Doctor he's been rusting in those Cardiffian Woods for 150 years. He's looking for a heart, or a way to feel after all these years.

And the Lioness. All wild ginger hair and a sour expression on her face. She was supposed to be married, though something happened that made her run away. She's trying to find courage. Real courage, not just the shouting and ordering about she does to cover up her fear. The Doctor's rather fond of her, even though she's rather fond of slapping him.

And now they're all here, talking to a giant green head. )

Muse: The Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 2,098
She usually slept very deeply while on the TARDIS. The first week she stayed on board, the natural hum of the engines and vibration of the ship bothered her. After that, it was almost like a lullaby, like her mother's white-noise meditation tapes. The motion of the ship was almost like a cradle rocking.

Their sudden absence made her blink awake. The TARDIS was perfectly still and completely quiet. The TARDIS wasn't in flight, which usually meant they'd landed somewhere.


That usually meant they'd landed!

She leapt from her bed and tugged on a pair of jeans and a top. There was no way she was sleeping through a new place and there was no way she was going to let the Doctor run off without her! He was always doing that; not telling her things and running off and doing things without her. It was enough to make a girl think she wasn't wanted. She didn't like thinking that.

The lights in the hallway as Martha headed towards the console were off. Even with her red leather jacket on, it was still cold throughout the corridors. The TARDIS wasn't just sitting there, parked. It seemed almost as if the TARDIS was off.

She was used to it being darker, even a little colder, at night. The TARDIS, Martha figured, worked along the Doctor's limited sleep schedule. That whole symbiotic thing he mentioned once. But this was more than just a sleepy TARDIS. What could it be? The Doctor would've woken her if something went wrong. Exotic messages and trips to Metabilis Three? Oh, she could sleep through those. But if the TARDIS was about to go out, well, he'd have told her.

"Doctor!" she called. He had to be in the console room. Had to be trying to put life back into the TARDIS, yeah?

No, no. There was light coming from inside the console. Very faint, but it was definitely there. But the Doctor was nowhere to be seen. Not even his feet poking out from the grates.

"Doctor?" There was no response, except perhaps the temperature of the room dropping very slightly. Martha tugged her jacket tighter around her and headed for the door. It was open just a bit, and while there was mostly darkness outside, she could see a few very faint lights. They looked like…

Table lamps. In fact, they were table lamps, lined up along a display in what appeared to be a furniture store. Martha stepped out onto the plush carpet and looked around in confusion. The TARDIS was parked in the display room of a furniture store. As a matter of fact, it looked like the furniture store two blocks over from her flat, where she bought her desk.

Well, that was disappointing. She was hoping for a furniture store in the future, at least. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,879
The Journal of Impossible Things

10 November 1913

Dreams slip away if one does not keep them written down. It is as I was telling Martha this morning. The way the mind works is that the more important stays in the forefront while those things that are less important to the moment stay hidden. My dreams, as I've come to discover, are less important to my mind than they are to me, so they vanish.

All the same, let me be more brief. Professor Moffat always finds time to tell me that the Bard says brevity is the soul of wit. While I prefer history to literature, I can take that idea to heart.

Last night I dreamed I was running. (The story takes place in the year of our Lord 2007!) It was Martha and I, running. There is almost always some sort of danger or running involved in these dreams, as I have come to notice. The Doctor's life is always one of adventure, occasionally heartbreak, and danger from which he must always run. He wears the most unusual shoes because of how they improve this ability.

Martha and I are running from some sort of evil (another constant in the dreams), pushing past people and running along corridors until we arrive back at the magic box. I'm not safe in the box because the evil can track me. Martha is unlike her normally well-collected self; she appears to be very frustrated, anxious, and confused.

In my dreams, Martha and I have a significantly different relationship. She is my traveling companion. An equal, of sorts. The concept itself seems ridiculous as I write it because a world where a woman of color could be on equal terms with a respected schoolteacher is absurd. However, in the Doctor's world Martha stands on equal footing with him and he trusts her. There is no doubt in his mind that she is loyal and brave.

Audaces Fortuna Juvat.

The magic box has the answer, as it frequently does. I move beneath the front spiral desk of the main room and pull objects out from within her depths.

Martha, you trust me, don't you? I say to my companion.

Her response is both immediate and endearing. Of course I do. She says the words with conviction as I have never heard from my quiet housemaid.

It all depends on you, I tell her. I then stand and hold my fob watch to her. I begin to explain to her the importance of the watch, but as I have said, dreams fade away at times. No, they don't fade. Not the dreams about the Doctor.

They run. Run away at full gallop and I am left wondering what it was I dreamt at all. It feels as if my mind only shows me a glimmer to remind me that this storybook hero in my mind is there, but I'm not allowed to see his full story just yet.

It is funny how dreams are like that.

Muse: John Smith / the Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 489
All IC Responses will be replied to by John Smith
Let our love be a flame, not an ember,
Say its me that you want to dismember.
Blacken my eye,
Set fire to my tie,
As we dance to the masochism tango.
--Tom Lehrer, Masochism Tango



It's been a while since I've actually sat down and had a good long think. Even longer since Canary Warf. The TARDIS tells me it's been just over two months vortex-time since…well, since. My slightly more masochistic side came out today and here I am. Thinking about you and me and everything. Decided to write you a postcard, I'm going to see if I can get it to slip through the seam on the universes. If it doesn't, well…no harm done.

50% of this postcard has been preamble. Let me tell you what this postcard is. I'm on Storocora, a planet inhabited by beings who look a lot like humans except they have power conduit controls in the back to help them "recharge" rather than eat. Nearly stabbed in the back of the neck several times by gentlemen just trying to give me a recharge because I look too thin.

Oh, and they occasionally burst into song and dance. Today I walked past a line of men and women just dancing the tango. Just dancing! Music from the city seems to well up here and they atune themselves to it, breaking into chorus.

I know you'd like it here.

Anyway. So! I hope all is well with you and Jackie and Mickey and all of everybody. Give them my love when you see them and all that.

I miss you.

The Doctor

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 230
Jack is in love with the Doctor.

The Doctor is a lot of things, but blind isn't one of them. He's known since before Cardiff, since a few days after they left 1942. Of course, Jack works very hard to tease and act relaxed about it, but the emotion is there, sitting heavy on Jack's shoulders.

He used to think it wasn't love. No, it was just Jack's way of loving someone. A rather large crush of sorts. It would go away eventually. Time would make him find someone else.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,507
“Enjoyment of my job and enjoyment of the circumstances surrounding it are two entirely different things."

Cut for spoilers to Torchwood episode 2.06, 'Reset'. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 474
He is not an angry person.

Not in general.

Not if he can help it.

He thinks of anger as a problem, as a part of his personality he can push away to make room for better emotions. He can feel anger, he wouldn't want to make it go away, but he knows that letting it control him would make him less than who he is.

He's the Doctor. He's a rock. Strong. He never seeks revenge, never lets his blood boil. He has a temper, but the explosions are small despite the short fuse. He gets momentarily irritated, but never angry.

Except now.

Because some part of him, some little human part of him, loved Joan.

Loves Joan.

Loves her and this tiny little town and that school and those boys. And they could've all been spared if the Family just stopped.

But they didn't. They followed, they pursued, they interfered. They hollowed out the bodies they're living in. The snotty schoolboy, the smiling maid, the overworked father, the little girl. They were all people. Once.

He can feel every beat of his hearts as he steps towards them. He can feel his pulse rise on his wrists, on his throat. His anger is a living thing running underneath his skin.

And they look up at him with a little shock, but mostly confusion.

Because they have no idea what's going to happen next.

He does.

Every neuron, every part of his oversized Time Lord brain is electrified with anger. Working on overtime. Ready to hurt. Where he'll trap them. Where they'll stay and live out their bloody forever and ever and never ever hurt anyone again. He'll hurt them the way they hurt Joan and Martha and those people and his frightened little human self.

And he doesn't usually hurt others.

Doesn't like revenge.

Right now he craves it. He wants to hear them scream in agony. Wants to know the pain is theirs.

His hearts beat and steps on the hand of Son of Mine who isn't getting away as easily as he thinks he is. The boy cries out. The sound isn't enough. He's so angry. So very, very angry.

He looks at Daughter of Mine, who has little tiny tears running down her little girl's face. That little girl is dead. He thinks about the tears on Joan's face. Those tears were real. Whatever his eyes say when he looks at Daughter of Mine silence her tears. Her face contorts into something like fear. It's good. Fear is good. She has every reason to be afraid and no way to get away.

Mother of Mine used to be Jenny. John Smith knew Jenny. Martha cared for Jenny. Jenny is dead and Mother of Mine is cowering.

Father of Mine still looks so confused. He'll learn soon. They will all learn what the fury of a Time Lord is like.

His hearts beat a little faster.

Ba-bump ba-bump. Ba-bump ba-bump.

They sound like drums.

Keeping time with his anger.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 506
Photo Prompt

The leaves fell delicately from the sky, landing with a soft sort of perfection at the Doctor's feet. Everything where they were seemed perfect. Light breeze and sunlight that seemed to flick through the trees in such a way that everyone who walked the city glowed. Even the stone chairs where he and Martha sat were comfortable.

It was almost enough to believe that the TARDIS's randomizer landed them somewhere nice. But after the horrible events that brought them here, he couldn't believe that anymore.

They sat as part of a circle, a council of people come to speak of the terrible things that were happening to their land. Through a series of unfortunate events—as it always was—they became part of this council.

The Doctor was, of course, fiddling with his sonic screwdriver and not nearly paying enough attention to the tall, crowned man with the pointy ears that stood and spoke to them.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old." He looked to the Doctor and Martha. Visitors from other worlds. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,815
With respect to JRR Tolkein…
"When liberty comes with hands dabbled in blood it is hard to shake hands with her." - Oscar Wilde

We won, you know, Doctor.

He says the words with a deep sigh of relief as he gazes out over the Earth. Littered with the Toclafane; screaming humans beneath cowering in their homes or shelters or wherever they're hiding.

Stopped the War, you did. Did you realize you were going to do that? Oh, of course you did. You wouldn't have done it otherwise.

He puts his forehead against the glass and takes a breath. His fingers beat out the drum against the wall again and again.

So much pain. So many lives just taken  )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 606


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The Doctor


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