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Twelve and Clara through basically all of Series 8

Time Comes to Call || Mary Poppins and The Doctor

Her eyebrows rose with panic, and nervously, she looked around the park for anyone who might have heard. Fortunately, they seemed to be alone for the moment. Mary Poppins had lived on Earth long enough to know that many humans did not take kindly to the unusual. Particularly when the “unusual” consisted of a centuries-old alien. Besides that, she knew quite well, along with being positive that he knew quite well, that humans were not yet supposed to know that extraterrestrial aliens even existed at all, much less that they were walking among them.

She had been careful during her time here, and to see him so casually, even vaguely imply such a thing in public, caught her off guard. She shook her head, disapproving, and murmured, “Reckless…”

Mary Poppins took a deep breath. Seeing him at all brought on a deeply complicated mix of emotions, and with the stress of the moment added to it, she was only perhaps one sentence away from completely losing her composure. She allowed herself another breath, and clutched her bag of raspberry jam cakes a bit closer to her chest, forgetting that she was ever hungry to begin with.

“I have been here, Doctor.” Her tone was helplessly snippy, and a little rough with building frustration. Still, in an empty park, she lowered her voice uncomfortably. “I’ve been here for hundreds of years, waiting. Waiting for help. And no one ever came. No one.” She huffed another sigh, frowning. “Now, I sincerely doubt they sent you here for me, and unless you’re planning on assisting me in going home, I really don’t know that there is anything left to discuss.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes like a peevish schoolboy at her admonishment. Always more of the same. It reminded him rather strongly of why he’d left Gallifrey in the first place. The fact that he now wished nothing more than to be able to return was something he could reflect on sourly later. For now, he had a disapproving Time Lady with a nasty glare to contend with. He sighed. “Will you relax? There’s nobody even here.”

The longer she talked, the more he felt that familiar sinking in his chest. About halfway through he had all but stopped listening, lost in his own head. Her words finally came to an end and the Doctor raked a hand across his face miserably and stared at her wide-eyed over the hand that still covered his mouth. “Blimey, you really don’t know, do you?”

Suddenly all the fight and frustration bled out of him and his shoulders slumped. He almost seemed to shrink before her. It became impossible for him to meet her eye. Advancing forward slowly, the Doctor held out an arm directing her toward a bench. “You’d better sit down,” he said, voice terribly solemn.

Whether she sat or not, he would drop himself onto the bench and stare pointedly at the ground between his trainers. “Gallifrey is gone.” He nearly choked on the words but forced them out nonetheless, drawing in a ragged breath. “You and me are the only ones left. The only Time Lords left in existence. I didn’t think-- I searched for years and years but I never found anyone else. If I had known you were here... I’m sorry.” Closing his eyes, he hung his head and pressed his palms almost painfully against his eyelids. “There was a Time War...with the Daleks. ..I’m so sorry.”

Uneven Odds | | daltonfeathers

Even as the Doctor spoke to him he didn’t move or open his eyes to look. As the other moved closer he finally opened his eyes, but he still didn’t look at him directly.

When the other reached out to touch him he drew away from him. He glanced toward the other, but he didn’t speak or make a move for a bit. He really did want to hug him, but he was too frightened to really do anything. After a few moments he started crying and just threw himself on the Doctor and held on tightly. He just wanted out of here.

The Doctor watched with watery eyes as Dalton pulled away further into himself. His hearts ached terribly but he didn’t reach for the other man any further. The last thing he wanted was to frighten him.

He was just about to speak when Dalton suddenly launched himself forward and wrapped both arms around his neck. Hearts bursting with eagerness to comfort the man, the Doctor pulled him gently into his lap and held him close. “Don’t be afraid now, Dalton. I’ve got you,” he murmured softly by his ear as his fingertips trailed gentle circles over Dalton’s back.

Open Roleplay

As he often did when he was lonely with too much on his mind, the Doctor found an ocean and set the TARDIS to hover just above the surface. He sat with his legs dangling out the door and leaned his head against the frame.

It was quiet this far out with no chance of interruption. Normally he would hate that but every once in a while it helped to get ones bearings. The constant undulation of the waves helped to negate his claustrophobic perception of the planet’s gravity, it’s rotation, and made it easier for him to relax.

When the silence was shattered by a catastrophic splash, he nearly fell right out of the TARDIS in his shock. Whipping his head around, he was just in time to watch a massive, black-scaled lizard break the surface. As he watched, the beast seemed to flounder as if exhausted, unable to find land in its sights.

In all his travels he’d never seen a creature quite like this one and it was hard to know if it would be friendly to a stranger. Still, there was intelligence in its great big eyes and he’d never been one to refuse someone in need of help.

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, the Doctor gave a sharp whistle. “Oi! Over here!” he called. While there was no way to be sure if it had a spoken language, that had never stopped the Doctor before. After all, he could speak to most anything with a mind. “Couldn’t help noticing you look a bit lost. What seems to be the trouble?”

“See you, boss.”

Closed||Starter for thetenthlordoftime

It was London, 1969. Martha and the Doctor had been stuck here for about a month. No TARDIS, and no progress with his – what did he call it – timey-wimey detector? She couldn’t remember at the moment, her brain addled with fog. She was tired.

Martha pushed the key into the lock of their flat and turned it. The lock clicked, and tumbled open. She was carrying a small brown grocery bag, having managed to stop at a grocery story and pick up a package of dry spaghetti, a jar of premade marinara sauce, a bit of ground beef, and a long, fat loaf of Italian bread.

Her feet complained with each step, broadcasting a bit of pain as she walked. She’d been on her feet all day, and silently hoped the Doctor might help her with dinner.

“Doctor!” she shouted into the tiny apartment. “I’m home!”

The Doctor’s chaotic tuft of hair stuck out above his folded arms from where his head lay face down on the shabby wooden desk in their flat. He was only in his shirtsleeves, having discarded his blue jacket on the back of the chair. Listlessly, long fingers twitched out to spin a small round bit on his timey-wimey detector, which had not gone ding even once, though it had made a terrible mess at breakfast that first week. He was beginning to wonder if it worked at all.

It was hard enough to stand still for a few days at a time but a month was nearly killing him. It wasn’t so much the boredom, though that really wasn’t helping. No, it was his mind that was working against him. From the very first moment he had stared into the Untempered Schism as a child he had felt the weight of Time pressing in on him. It was in his mind, his soul, his skin...the constant movement of it, like the twisting of gears and the beating of wings. Every moment, every voice, every hope and dream and destiny unfolding. And this planet. The gravity and the turn of this little planet and the lives of its people reaching on and on and on to touch the furthest stars. 

It was a brilliant sort of madness just as long as he could move with it. If he could toss himself adrift in it like a surging river, plunge beneath the surface, and lose himself in that movement, then he was fine. But now it beat about his skull like a caged bird and it made it just a little hard to breathe.

At the sound of the lock being turned in the door, his head jerked up and he stood quickly. Grabbing his jacket and fastening an easy smile in place, he faced the door and waited for Martha. She didn’t need to know the sort of useless he felt while she was out working for them. The storm raging through his head wasn’t her problem either.

“Hullo!” He returned her call of greeting and it sounded tinny and forced to his ears but it would serve well enough. “Ooooo! What’s for tea, then?” He took the bag from her, eager to feel useful for a change, and headed for the kitchen.

thetenthlordoftime Whoa! Tumblr is really weird. I only saw the first sentence of your ask hence my brief answer above. 1969 sounds awesome, then! Do you want to write the starter or shall I?

//I did wonder about that but I didn't have time to think on it because I had to leave for work. I'll be away for a few more hours but then I can post it if you like. Or if you had some time and wanted to go ahead and start that'd be cool too. :)

this ship was not intentional a novel by me.

oh look now it’s my otp a sequel novel by me

ninth doctor: bananas are fantastic tenth doctor: i hate pears eleventh doctor: apples are rubbish twelfth doctor: nobody likes tangerines

I’M SENSING A THEME HERE

(x)

Time Comes to Call || Mary Poppins and The Doctor

Mary sighed, and then pursed her lips, afraid to say anything more. Whether she liked him or not, he was the first of her kind she had seen in… Well, she had nearly lost track. It had been at least several centuries, at least, and that was more than enough time to make anyone desperate to go home, regardless of the means. If this renegade was what the universe brought to her, she would grin and bear it.

But perhaps without quite so much grinning. 

Indeed, her expression remaining a bit sour, she said, “The last time I saw you in person, you had a stalk of celery pinned to your lapel.” 

He had been blond then, with softer features, and an unexpected air of kindness. This time, he seemed about as excited to see her, as she was to see him. (Though she had no idea why. As far as she knew, she had never served as any sort of inconvenience for him.) Nevertheless, Mary Poppins was no fool, and his differences could only mean one thing. She herself had regenerated. Twice, in fact. Only once from old age. She wondered morbidly what could have happened to him in such a short period of time. Or perhaps this Doctor was far older than her. Time was a tricky thing indeed. 

“I see you’ve changed, since then.”

No, she really did not look happy to see him. Couldn’t be helped though. Whether she realized it or not, they were all either of them had. What was that saying about, ‘...not even if you were the last person on Earth...”? Funny how humans managed to cut right to the point sometimes.

Her sour observation drew a frown that was very nearly a pout from the Doctor. “Nothing like wearing a vegetable for making a fashion statement,” he intoned dryly. “So I went through a few awkward stages. Perfectly normal. Anybody could...end up-- ...wearing a vegetable for a few decades.” He cleared his throat and looked away abruptly, tugging at his ear.

“Anyway... We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. And just what exactly you are doing here. Because I’ve been on Earth. I’ve been on Earth for years... Off and on. And you most definitely weren’t here.”

He was just about to go on about how he’d looked, how he’d been searching and sending out beacons from the TARDIS, how he’d waited and called... When her observation struck a chord and brought him up short. 

“Yes I have,” he answered seriously, the heaviness of all that had changed falling upon him like quarry stone. “I’m a bit surprised that you haven’t.”