| The TARDIS medcenter |
[Sep. 28th, 2006|04:32 pm] |
Boy, theweaselscot is heavier than you'd think for such a slender guy. Lynda and Martha, panting, lay him down on a table. Martha hooks him up to all sorts of exciting flashybeepystrobythings.
Every so often, something off in the corner goes PING. |
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| tucked into trundle bed in TARDIS bedroom |
[Sep. 25th, 2006|08:43 pm] |
*has a soothing dream about the replacement of the Dewey Decimal System by the Library of Congress System*
*pauses idly to wonder why is dreaming about American rather than British cataloguing systems, but is swept away by the wonders of proper taxonomy*
*smiles in sleep* |
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| Private to Pfred |
[Aug. 30th, 2006|06:52 am] |
I think I've found a promising candidate.
There's a charity clinic on Zeon-Strike-Two. (Yes, it sounds like a video game. *I* didn't name it.) They specialize in training physicians' assistants, which sounds right for us -- we really want to be able to provide short-term care, not to be able to treat cancer and cryptomalasia and the other long-term diseases, I think. The deal is that they teach you three days a week, you volunteer one day a week at their clinic, and you promise never to charge for your skills. There's a biped humanoid module starting in two weeks.
Sound like a plan? |
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| Letter |
[Aug. 29th, 2006|06:39 am] |
To: Miss Elizabeth Jones Director, Albion Hospital Medical School
Dear Miss Jones,
Last year I declined admission to your institution on family grounds. Would it be possible for me to reopen my application? I should be returning to London in --
[letter is crumpled and thrown into dustbin] |
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| Decompression time |
[Aug. 28th, 2006|08:54 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | completely utterly disgusted | ] | Lynda? Pfred? Want to hide away and be sane for a bit?
NO EMO PEOPLE HERE. We may cry a bit, but we shall NOT be emo. Timebabies welcome. |
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Seconds negotiate here: for stillnotginger |
[Aug. 27th, 2006|05:48 pm] |
Madam, I believe we are expected to negotiate terms.
As the representative of the challenged party, you name weapons.
First, however, is there any way we can resolve this peacefully? |
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| Letter to Lynda, delivery method unspecified |
[Aug. 27th, 2006|05:22 pm] |
Dearest Lynda,
Apparently the Chevalier de Seingalt has challenged the Doctor to a duel. Well, that will certainly help reduce the freckle surplus. No matter how this turns out, it cannot help traumatizing Pfred. Could you come by and talk? At the moment, I'm strongly tempted to chloroform the lot of them and form a lesbian separatist colony.
Love ever,
Martha. |
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| Appearing in various rooms around the TARDIS |
[Aug. 23rd, 2006|07:21 am] |
The Doctor's room:
One large package wrapped in blue paper with stars, containing red Chucks. Card: Best wishes always, M.
Mme. de P's room:
One large package wrapped in silver paper, containing silver Chucks. One small package wrapped in white paper with silver ribbons, containing silver booties. Card: May you have many happy years together, Martha Jones.
Rose's room:
One large package wrapped in bright pink paper, containing bright pink Jimmy Choo mules. One small package wrapped in pale pink paper, containing size six-months rose-pink Chucks. Card: We're all proud of both of you. Martha.
Pfred's room: One medium-sized package wrapped in psychedelic paper, containing classic ankle-height black Chucks. Card: To my very favorite of the Doctor's assorted bizarre relations, and yes, that does include himself. Love, Martha P.S. Doctor -- Serves you right for snooping. |
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| Diary: Summary of recent observations |
[Aug. 11th, 2006|09:51 pm] |
The current population of the TARDIS includes: * Pfred, the Doctor's eldest more-or-less acknowledged child * Penny, the Doctor's oldest officially acknowledged baby * Fred, the Doctor's youngest (so far) Timebaby.
The neighborhood also contains four adult males who come from different times and places in Earth history, all of whom look exactly like the Doctor. Four adult males who could, in fact, be his sons.
In short, we are overrun with the Doctor's offspring.
If we continue to examine the evidence, we see that the Doctor dislikes babies, is terrified of children, is on indifferent to hostile terms with the various members of his extended family, and tires of his lovers within a couple of seasons months at the longest. He is a man who is inept, at best, at conventional human relations. Why, then, has he chosen to saddle himself with so many offspring?
I suspect that he has not. Left to his own devices, the Doctor would be fornicating without procreating, spreading joy far and wide without the accompanying Timeseed.
The only hypothesis that explains all the facts is that some overarching supernatural being has intervened to shape events. In short, the Doctor has been put out to stud.
Note to self: Do NOT sleep with anybody. Not even ... NOBODY. |
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| Note to self |
[Aug. 9th, 2006|03:46 pm] |
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NEVER nick Doctor's hair gel. |
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| Crumpled piece of paper in Martha's wastebasket |
[Aug. 9th, 2006|07:49 am] |
If you found it and uncrumpled it -- which you didn't and wouldn't -- it would read --
Spent weeks nagging Doctor to shut the hell up and have an adventure.
He did. Where was I? Locked into my room behind Doctor-proof locks. There everybody else was, saving the world, and there was I, deliberately out of touch, cowering in my room.
Conclusions:
1. Get out of room 2. Participate in social life without participating in emo 3. Get to know all these handsome Doctor-lookalikes in hopes that one of them is non-emo
When did I become a screeching harpy? |
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| Refugee Welcome Center |
[Aug. 8th, 2006|06:40 pm] |
The main console of the TARDIS has been decorated with ribbons and signs reading WELCOME HOME! (Martha's fingers got scorched a couple of times, and she's not quite sure why.)
A lavish supply of first-aid supplies has been laid out on folding tables. Come on in and tell us how you're doing. |
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| A Place of Refuge (Super Secret) |
[Aug. 7th, 2006|09:48 am] |
Anybody who would like to come along on the rescue but who is being forbidden by the Doctor may hide in my room. The password is "Daleks Are Nice".
In the middle of a room is a large Habitrail containing a blue -- the TARDIS is a trifle unclear on the concept -- male hamster. A bow on the Habitrail suspends a card saying "Happy unbirthday, Pfred!" |
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| Diary notes: for my own use |
[Aug. 6th, 2006|12:04 pm] |
1. People the Doctor has slept with: * Rose * Reinette * Romana (? based on Pfred's existence, although the Doctor denies all involvement) * Sarah Jane (confirmed by self)
Query: Is it something about the letter "R"?
2. People the Doctor is currently sleeping with, inference based on constant innuendo in my presence: * Reinette * Rose (confirmed by Doctor)
3. People the Doctor would like to sleep with: * Penelope (?@??@??!??!?!) (Note: does he need to be chaperoned around pfred? Keep careful ear.) * Me (double ?!?!?!?!@?!)
P.S. Apparently Jack.
4. People who have hinted at wanting to sleep with the Doctor: * Lynda (she says not) * Rose (again)
5. People the Doctor has children with: * Romana * Reinette; twice, but once sort of with Rose --
-- bugger. Two dimensions do NOT suffice to express the complexities of the Doctor's reproductive life. Must seek out 4-D modeling tool.
Conclusion: Don't have sex with ANYBODY. EVER. Avoid timesperms, timeova, and timespores. |
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| Domestic Interlude |
[Aug. 5th, 2006|12:07 pm] |
*busies herself with the portable offset press*
Dear me, where is the badge-maker?
Ah. There we go.
*begins stamping out badges*
Youth Anti-Sex League |
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| Oh, as usual, dear. |
[Aug. 4th, 2006|09:07 pm] |
I may have underthought.
When I asked the TARDIS to ask Miss Gate for help, I was only thinking of everybody's best interests. It hadn't occurred to me that anything the TARDIS broadcast, the Doctor must inevitably know. Which means, of course, that as mme_pompadour warned me, he's going to believe that she, Lynda, and I are conspiring against him. Which is no less than the truth. I prefer to think of it as conspiring for his saner self.
What shall we all do if she doesn't show up? And what if this arthur_gate person isn't who he says he is?
I miss the elegant simplicity of numbers. |
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| PRIVATE Diary entry |
[Aug. 3rd, 2006|09:16 pm] |
The Doctor is not at all as I knew him. Or, rather, he's a simplified version of the man I knew. He's discarded all emotions other than self-pity and all actions other than lust.
He's also forgotten everything I taught him with a crop about the non-sexual nature of our partnership. Perhaps the crop was a mistake.
Notes to self: * Avoid being alone with him. * Avoid tea. (Tea? ) * Run away with that sensible Reinette person. * Investigate the effects of lithium on Gallifreyan physiology and sensibility. * Attempt to learn how to fly TARDIS. * Search for escape pods. |
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