Tumblr And Relative Dimensions In Space

Welcome to the Doctor Who Request Meme! Please read the rules before requesting or filling a prompt. No spoilers for the current series are allowed.

[doctorwhomeme]

The Chestertons (young, not old) meet the Ponds somehow. Preferably involving effective collaboration and problem-solving highlighting all the good stuff they have in common. With some jokes. But not too many (not that I'm demanding or anything) :D

[doctorwhomeme]

Fill: Souvenirs (Ian/Barbara, G)

Prompt: Ian and Barbara are wandering around on the Sensorites' planet and find one of the little discs that transmit their thoughts into another's mind. (I have slightly misremembered your prompt I'm afraid - this is set back on the Tardis immediately after Ep.6 of The Sensorites. Hope it's still OK with you.

(Just having been gently evacuated from a nearby airlock by two friendly Sensorites, the TARDIS crew is able to gaze at the image of a departing rocketship on the TARDIS scanner.)

IAN: Well, at least they know where they're going.

(The Doctor glares at Ian, his eyes like gimlets.)

DOCTOR: Implying I don't? IAN: I didn't mean anything of the sort! DOCTOR: So, you think I'm an incompetent old fool do you? IAN: Now Doctor, I never said that! DOCTOR: Since you are so dissatisfied my boy, you can get off this ship. And the very next place we stop I shall take you off myself, and that is quite final!

(Ian and Barbara exchange a worried glance as the Doctor motions to Susan who is waiting silently by the coordinate selector panel.)

DOCTOR: Carry on!

– The Sensorites, Episode 6

***

It seemed best not to hover around the console while the Doctor was in such a foul mood. Susan soon disappeared to her room.  Ian and Barbara drifted off towards the food machine, where they lingered in discouraged silence while it beeped and clicked. Suddenly she put a hand to the pocket of her dress and frowned.

“What is it?”

“Oh, that device the Sensorites lent me. I’ve still got it in my pocket.” Mildly annoyed with herself, she held up the little silver disc. “I meant to give it back.”

“What, the telepathy thing?” Ian was immediately interested. “Don’t look so troubled, Barbara, I don’t think they’ll miss it. I’ve got one too, see?” He produced it from his pocket. “First Elder gave it to me. Souvenir.”

“Oh, have you?” She eyed the device uncertainly. Back on the other ship, he’d made a joking remark about the two of them reading each other’s minds. She’d pretended not to hear, but this would surely bring it up again.

Ian turned it over, examining it. “How do they work, then? Didn’t have time to ask him.”

“Well, I’m not sure they’ll work at all here – they probably just …” He was pressing it to his temple, making an ostentatious “ommmmm” noise. Barbara laughed.

“No, like this,” she said, lifting it to her forehead. “You hold it here, and you have to think very clearly so that your thoughts transmit as words. But it’s pretty patchy unless you speak aloud, I found. And they said it could be dangerous if your concentration slips. Anyway, it’s not working now,” and she made to tuck it briskly back into her pocket. Ian stayed her hand.

“Hang on, let’s try it properly. We may as well. I can’t see why it would matter that we’ve left the planet, if it’s just an amplification device.” He grinned at her doubtful expression. “Don’t want to know what’s in my head, eh? Can’t say I blame you. I’ll keep it clean, I promise.” Ignoring her slightly nervous laugh, he bounded towards the doorway. “I’ll go along the corridor a bit so we can’t hear each other. Give me thirty seconds, then I’ll send you a message.” He vanished, silver disc in hand.

Barbara bit her lip. The idea of allowing Ian to hear her thoughts, however briefly, was unsettling in a way that mentally swapping map coordinates with Susan simply hadn’t been. Still, it would hardly be fair to deny him – the technology of the thing was right up his street. She replaced the device on her forehead and waited, not without apprehension.

Ian sprinted through a couple of doorways to an empty room and lifted his disc into place. His scientific side was desperate to get to grips with it, but clearly Barbara was less keen, and he’d no wish to make her uncomfortable. Better try an impersonal message – maybe a quotation, something they’d both have been made to learn at school. He marshalled his thoughts, and began clearly:

“If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you …”

In the other room, Barbara broke into a delighted smile. It was fine, after all – not really in-depth mind-reading, just Ian’s voice, like a telephone call, but in her head. She couldn’t “hear” anything but the message, no more than she had with Susan. And the Kipling was rather apt in light of the Doctor’s recent outburst. She felt a surge of affection as Ian rattled through the familiar lines. She needn’t have worried.

“If you can wait, and not be tired by waiting –“ He paused. “All right, Barbara – is it working?”

“Yes! Yes, it’s working – am I getting through?” she replied happily.

“Yes! Clear as a bell.”

Only then, as the recital became a kind of conversation, did they both pick up something else: a little lurch in perception, a wave of warmth. Thoughts not formed into words, but no less present or potent for that, eddying around and between the words transmitted. They had an intoxicating undertow, like the kick of a double Scotch or the rush of a long-awaited kiss.

It took a heartbeat or two to absorb what must be happening; then Barbara dropped her disc with a startled exclamation. Ian, two rooms away, found himself abruptly alone again.

She was picking it up from the floor as he came back in, but when she looked up her eyes were sparkling with amusement despite her flushed cheeks. Relieved, he said “Well – so it works,” and they both laughed shakily.

“Good choice of poem,” she offered brightly, cutting through the awkwardness. “Made me think of the Doctor.”

“Oh, yes.” Ian’s tone became grimmer. “I suppose we’ll be summoned back soon. Wonder if there’s time for a last cup of tea before we’re thrown off the ship.”

“Chesterton!” A distant bellow reached them from the console room. Exchanging a look of resignation, they set off to meet their fate.

“What shall we do with these, then? Chuck ‘em?” Ian threw his disc a little way into the air, caught it with the same hand as they sauntered along the corridor.

“No … let’s keep them,” she replied, smiling. “Souvenirs.”

#barbaraxian

[doctorwhomeme]

Companion party. Backyard barbacue birthday block bash.

[doctorwhomeme]

FILL: Ten's hand/Luke Skywalker's hand (G)

Their fingers touched and the hands recoiled. They tenatively floated closer in the suspension and felt each other, unfamiliar and without a second. They came to the fact that they were no longer attached to the persons they used to be a part of and would likely never see their twins again. They had been discarded, but for some cruel reason remained here to suffer through the remainder of their existances.

Except they didn't, because they're hands, and hands don't think, and that's kind of weird.

http://tumblr.com/xlc31apt3h

[doctorwhomeme]

Doctor Who/Sherlock crossover (any Doctor except Eleven).

[doctorwhomeme]

Hello! I'd like to thankyou for this blog and everyone who partakes in it, thassall. Carry on as usual, it's goodstuff.

Aww, that's sweet.

I'm chuffed. :3

[doctorwhomeme]

Jamie lifts his kilt to create a distraction.

[doctorwhomeme]

Susan/Ping Cho, the real reason Marco Polo separated them.

[doctorwhomeme]

FILL: The Importance of Language (gen/fluff, G)

Prompt: Seventh Doctor - Trying to talk with peanut butter stuck on the roof of his mouth.

“What’s that you said, Professor?” Her head tilted to one side as though in genuine query; her eyes glinted in not quite malicious glee. Certainly there was more than a hint of schadenfreude in her tone, which earned her a glare from across the lunch table. But considering the Doctor’s predicament, Ace wasn’t particularly worried. What could he do to her, anyway? So she just smiled sweetly at him as he struggled to make himself understood. “Weemff gut to mff shff thfummfmmsher arrummff.” Rassilon’s teeth, what had possessed him to suggest peanut butter and honey sandwiches? It had sounded like a good idea, at least until it left his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. The look he was giving Ace said “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” far better than he did when he actually tried to say it, at which point the words came out more like “yoom umjung thuff unff oo?” “Sorry, didn’t quite catch that,” she said, and laughed. Some days really brought home the importance of language, and more specifically the spoken word. There the poor Sensorites were, plagued with an epidemic of psychic colds on top of an alien invasion. And yet, despite his many positive qualities— cunning, diplomacy, good looks— he couldn’t help them. He could do nothing but grimace and reach for the tea. At least once they arrived at the Sense Sphere, he wouldn’t need to talk.

[doctorwhomeme]

Any Team TARDIS in an all-out practical joke war against each other.

[doctorwhomeme]

Two/Jamie - elevator

[doctorwhomeme]

Hi again, folks. Apparently Tumblr is randomly turning off the Submit function on blogs (wtf?), so if you find that ours isn't working at any point, that's why, and we'd be very grateful if you could send us a message if/when that happens.

Thanks!

[doctorwhomeme]

Ten's hand and Luke Skywalker's hand.

[doctorwhomeme]

James Hot Socks McCrimmon. And his hot socks.

[doctorwhomeme]

The UNIT dating controversy, and how it came to be called that.

[doctorwhomeme]

Jamie finally gets to teach The Doctor about something: bagpipes.

[doctorwhomeme]

Barbara & Ian, the TARDIS swimming pool. A game of "Marco Polo" turns into something more.