I’m gonna say what I need to say,
in my very last letter to you,
cuz you always made it clear,
said that you’d never be my pain.
So here’s to you when you cried baby blues
And just paused a cool to refrain
And you said she was satisfied
and this body’s just waiting to die
and I could listen sometimes
but you said its alright
its just a whole lot harder alone.


Lucy Saxon---

Mrs. Saxon---

He gives up and tosses the note into the bin by his desk. It's been months since he's seen her on the Plane, he's not even sure why he bothers. It's been good, being apart. He's grown closer to Brigitta, River, even people he's only just met on the Plane. It's better that she's away.

But now…

He is certain the end is coming. His death. He doesn't know what he does or who knocks for him, but he knows it's coming to an end.

He looks down at his hands. They're good hands. Little freckles and hairs all over them and the bones at his knuckles stick out, but they're good hands. He can't even imagine regenerating them away.

But his song wouldn't be ending if he was just going to regenerate. Funny. He always imagined he had at least a few more regenerations in him.

Still. That's the trouble with regeneration. You never quite know what you're going to get. And if he's right about the things people see about him, he's not going to get anything anymore.

He looks at the crumpled up letter. She made her choice. Probably wouldn't even notice if he died (when he dies).

It still doesn't feel fixed. It doesn't feel concluded.

He doesn't want her back. Not really. Maybe a tiny bit, but not enough for him to act on it. But he wants---

He wants to say good-bye. He's said good-bye to Sarah, Brigitta, Dorothy, and the Master, he's still working on saying good-bye to his Companion and Jack. He's passed on the notes he's taken to a superhero who should be able to continue his work. He's done. he needs to stop worrying about it.

But Lucy---No, no, Mrs. Saxon. He hasn't seen her. She doesn't know.

Unconsciously, he drops to the Plane.

She isn't there, of course. Silly thing to think. River would probably slap him for thinking something like that (and River's slaps are really, really unpleasant). But she's not here and he can't think of what to write in a letter to leave her.

She's content with her half-life with the Master, so she'd never seek him out. She doesn't know.

He drops back to the TARDIS and cleans up the letters before heading back to the console room to make a few final repairs.

Everything's ending soon, for him. And she doesn't know.

It's better that she doesn't know.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 413
Based on rp with [ profile] shatteredqueen and others in [ profile] realityshifted

Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away
If you can use some exotic booze
There's a bar in far Bombay
Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away

She lives a hard life.

He can tell, because she doesn't talk about the things she does, she just does them. Does them, and then grins over at him with wide eyes that are much too innocent to possibly be genuine.

She tells him she's died before.

She tells him she's killed before.

The way her voice stays calm and unwavering shows him that she's neither ashamed nor surprised by her actions. He immediately wants to dislike her, but he can't. Even when she follows him around on the Plane, demanding things be explained and asking him questions he doesn't want to answer. Despite everything, she's verymuch like him. Very very like him.

He thinks he might love her. But not like a lover, surely. More like a wonderful child, one who admires him while he occasionally dotes and frequently neglects her. Much like the other children in his life.

"You should travel," he tells her while she hovers over him and one of his experiments.

"Where?" she asks. It's not a question of why with her. He's probably right, she decides that on her own. She simply accepts that this is how the universe is and she is the only way she can be. She also accepts him for who he is, even if he frustrates her at times.

She's younger than he is, but he often thinks he can learn a lot from her. She's not really a child, and she's certainly too old for him to neglect. She cares for herself. She's strong enough on her own.

He decides it might be time.

"Anywhere," he says, holding the door to the TARDIS for her.

She grins, and it's as if a light has gone on in the dark Plane. She beams with the brightness of a thousand suns, and not one of them are false. He likes her best when she is not false. And he can't help but grin back.

And there they are, two old and lonely killers grinning at each other in the middle of an impossible machine.

It's wonderful.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 346
Based on RP with [ profile] oldoldghost in [ profile] realityshifted
Here it is, the awesome CR Meme from [ profile] realityshifted. I've been promising to do this for ages, since [ profile] savagestime put up theirs. Still more awesome than mine, but I did have some help from [ profile] rikku_cheerio in making the table.

Now, this is the d1!Doctor's CR chart. He knows a good deal more people, but these are the ones I consider him to have real "CR" with. This doesn't include the people that he had CR with whom have left (=(). I'll probably do more of these, or update this one, as he meets new people! =D!

CR: Character Relationships, Character Rapport, Character Rad-ness. )
rude_not_ginger: (ooc - whore)
( May. 3rd, 2009 05:10 pm)
As I like to put important moments in the diary, this is the Doctor's first experiment. Exciting!
Companion piece to this amazing prompt by [ profile] handysparehand.

"That's why I write, because life never works except in retrospect. You can't control life, at least you can control your version." - Chuck Palahniuk

If you let something go and it comes back to you, it's yours forever. Apparently. You've never really believed in that sort of thing. Too many birds have flown away and left you with an empty cage. You've become used to the fact that "alone" and "Doctor" have become synonymous.

You find companions. You travel with them for a time and they leave you and you're alone. One such time, verymuch alone, you picked up someone from the Plane. The place between dimensions, where the half-human, half-Time Lord version of yourself had been travelling. Also alone.

So, you ask him to travel with you. To spend some of his limited human days on your TARDIS, like so many humans that walked into and out of that ship with you. Only he would wear more sensible shoes, of course.

Oh, but it would never be an easy companionship, but you've grown rather accustomed to having him there. He's not you, but that's all right. You've got enough ego to fill the TARDIS all by yourself. No, he's something else, and that makes him equally frustrating and fascinating. More frequently the former, but it's the latter that reminds you how much you do enjoy his company.

"You've burned the tea again? What---How do you even manage to do that?"

"You're the one who insists I make it, when I could be helping with repairs."

"And you think I'd let you touch the consoles when you've already ruined my kettle?"

"I'd like to see you try better."

"I will!"

"Fine!" A beat. "You don't even know how to turn it on, do you?"

"I'm working on it!"

It's enough to make you believe that he's enough to fill your loneliness.

You put no restrictions on the TARDIS or the Plane. Come and go as you please. Let something go and all that.

He starts to go more frequently. Long stays away, visits with people he doesn't talk about over tea. You don't let it affect you, don't let the nagging sense of doubt go any further than the back of your mind.

And then, one day, he announces he's leaving. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,181
Based on roleplay in [ profile] realityshifted
Special thanks to [ profile] handysparehand for the beta!
TARDIS capabilities at 20%

You can feel your ship's pain.

It is part of you. It sinks under your skin, it permeates every cell of your being until you are her pain. Every part of you hurts. Your hands shake as you try to reconnect wires and seal up damaged systems.

Somewhere, under the pain, you can feel a layer of betrayal. Not to her, the one who damaged your ship, but for you, for allowing her on board. For leaving her alone. For trusting her, when you were warned. You should've known, but you didn't want to, and now there's nothing but pain.

You should've known. You just should've known. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,678
Based on RP in [ profile] realityshifted with [ profile] shatteredqueen and others.
Following the arrival of this letter and this thread.

It's torture, holding a guilty secret in. But the Doctor shouldn't have worried, he thinks. To the Master, it's all a game.

The first part of the game is the anticipation. Waiting it out, writing the letter, picking out the perfect place. Castrovalva. The Doctor's fifth life started here, and the two of them very nearly formed an alliance over it. Very nearly.

The Dwellings of Simplicity. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,008
Based on RP with [ profile] savagestime, [ profile] shatteredqueen, and [ profile] handysparehand, among others!
She is like ">| Quit being a butt to him! It is not his fault!"
Ten is like What? He only has EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED

Dorothy: Right, everything except the TARDIS, and eternal youth, and, y'know, freedom. >|
The Doctor: There's more to life than just freedom.
Dorothy: Not much more.
The Doctor: I've been free a long time, Dorothy. It wouldn't hurt to just stand still a while.
Dorothy: But you have a choice! He's not going to stop for a while, he's trapped for the rest of his life. And that's all he has-- one life.
The Doctor: People can do more in one life than others can in dozens. You look at a sunset when you've got only one life and it MEANS something
Dorothy: Do you really think you've done the right thing, here?
The Doctor: Leaving him with Rose? It's what I'd want if I were him.
Dorothy: But you're not him.
The Doctor: But he's me.
Dorothy: Yeah, he is. But you're not him, and you never will be. He's different, Doctor.
The Doctor: He should be grateful.
Dorothy: Grateful! That you abandoned him?
The Doctor: He didn't need me! And I left him with Rose! And the Tylers!
Dorothy: Did you even ask him what he wanted?
The Doctor: If he didn't want it, he'd have said something. Dorothy: You seem awful damn sure of that. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 3,156 YA RLY
Written with the amazing [ profile] galeforcehero
[ profile] handysparehand referenced with permission.
"If the human mind was simple enough to understand, we'd be too simple to understand it." - Emerson Pugh

Love is infinitely more complicated than hate.

There's a whole holiday based around love, there are self-help books on love, and there's an entire bank of the book store labeled "romance". Some people would trade looks and money just to be loved, and of the 778 best picture movies during the Academy Award's run, 750 of them were based around some sort of love story. One quick look online and it's easy to find "7 great ways to build a good relationship" or "How to find true love". As if it was actually that easy.

Psychometrician Robert Sternberg theorizes that there are three components of love. A triangle, as it were. Passion, commitment, and intimacy. Without these three elements, one can hardly call it love at all, can one? And only the commitment part is something one can control, the other two are based on emotions, compatibility, and (usually) hormones. Without the heat of passion, a love story has no intensity. Without commitment, it will fizzle and die into nothing. And without intimacy, there's no genuine connection.

Psychologist Zick Rueben proposes a similar theory, though he words it 'round a bit differently, calling it "caring, attachment, and intimacy". The fundamentals are the same, of course, but it's focused more on a less romantic version of love and more a general version because there's more than one version of love, apparently. Romantic, parental, familial, friendly…all sorts of love. Psychologist Elaine Hatfield splits them into two categories so one can take up less space in their cabinets: passionate and caring.

And if one follows the scientific Coulomb's law, then one knows that the magnitude of the electrostatic force between two point electric charges is directly proportional to the product of the magnitudes of each charge and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between the charges. Meaning that opposites attract. Clever, isn't it? Good old Charlie Coulomb, always great fun at parties (but he's French, so that's expected) Oh, and Freud says love really just has to do with sex. But that's Freud. Good bloke, but he's a bit off his rocker at times.

Love is complex. It's messy, it's twisted, it's confusing, and no matter how hard you might try to fit it into an algebraic matrix, it just doesn't want to come out simply.

As for hate.

Hate is easy.

Hate is deep-rooted and uncontrollable.

Hate is body temperature rising.

Hate is adrenaline pumping.

Hate is muscles tensing.

Hate is all-consuming.

Hate is…a lot like physical attraction, come to think of it.

The Doctor Explains Love. And Other Completely Improbable Instances of Self-Awareness. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,342
Based on RP in [ profile] realityshifted with [ profile] savagestime and [ profile] shatteredqueen.
Also, special thanks to [ profile] savagestime for suggesting that I challenge myself and write something in 4th person!


rude_not_ginger: (Default)
The Doctor


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