InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Giggity Giggity!"

the fourteenth doctor; doctor who (doctorfun) wrote in thedisplaced,
@ 2017-10-14 04:24:00

Entry tags:

!log/thread, doctor (10), doctor (12)

who ten & twelve
what all about clara
where twelve's TARDIS
when before martha's sleepover
warnings spoilers for season 9 of doctor who?
status in progress!

This wasn't meant to be an easy conversation. The mechanics of it would be difficult, as he had reservations about whether the elder regeneration would even remember it the next day. He would have to choose his words carefully, dance around the topic, and use mere hypothetical scenarios. Just to be safe.

It was with a heavier heart that he parked the TARDIS next to her match. The Doctor opened the door and observed the exterior of the much older one in front of him. Then, he snapped. The doors behind him closed and the ones in front of him opened. With a quirk of a grin, he tucked his hands into his coat pockets and strode inside.

Almost immediately, his smile waned.

"What?" He looked up and around at the design, expression growing more cross by the second. "Oh, this is -- this is--" He bit his tongue. He hadn't promised not to insult it, but he thought of his sour impression loudly. "Right. Hello!" He peeked around the console to find the other man. "Ready for that chat?"

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twelfth_doctor
2017-11-05 03:44 pm UTC (link)

"Moody?" he exclaimed, party offended, but also confused. With the bookcases, and chalk boards, and sitting places, the Doctor had intended something entirely different. Besides, what was more moody than Hair Gel's cavernous desktop theme, with all sorts of twisty things that resembled an underwater scene, or maybe the branches of an ancient tree? But he knew there was no use in arguing about it, because it was a matter of taste. So he just pursed his lips tightly together and huffed and turned his back to his former self.

When told to look for a card, he paused wrinkled his forehead and patted his suit down, and found not a card, but several in the inner breast pocket of his jacket. He pulled them out and looked them over curiously - he didn't know they were even in there - and then began to read.

The words in Clara's handwriting described who Clara was and his condition, and the longer he read, he more angry he became, until he snarled out loud, "Damn it!" How many times had he'd gone through this before? There was no way of telling. He tuned to the Other Doctor and pointedly said, "I need this neural block removed."

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