The Lie of the Land (DW S10.8)
I feel this only addresses about three things, but it's already Thursday and my head just won't wrap itself around things the way they should. So further thoughts might follow. Please talk to me about stuff you think I should look at!
Weekly Meta Cafe is hereby open. :)
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Weekly Meta Cafe is hereby open. :)
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The TARDIS made a clearly disapproving sound.
“Oh, shut up! I know I promised. Okay, so what? Who will notice? You’re a time machine; we can be back before we left!”
Disapproving sound.
“Look, we just pop back to the 19th century, we find the bastard, and I convince him to cut, say, 300 pages from the novel. Or else. And we return immediately, I swear!”
Disapproving sound.
“Oh, come on! It’s not that big of a change! Who noticed when I did it with War and Peace? It’s still huge in any case. And a terrific success to boot!”
Disapproving sound.
“The Web of Time can go to hell!”
An even more disapproving sound.
“Can we- can I just go brain him with the book reallyhard? Insult his beard? Something? I need to let off some steam ( ... )
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The Doctor banged his fist on the floor, immediately regretted it, and opened his eyes to observe the damage.
What he saw was the head of a long-haired, barely twenty-something young man poking through the door.
From what he knew, most of his colleagues didn’t read while sitting in the lotus position on the floor, failing to meditate, and spontaneously reciting the Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear when things got tough.
Then again, from what he knew, most of his colleagues were humans, idiots, and didn’t have to read Moby Dick to prepare a lecture about it. So really, anything the boy found strange was his problem ( ... )
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Childishly, he half-expected to see the aftermath of an epic battle of demons. Smashed furniture and windows, a broken electric guitar, sonic screwdrivers scattered across the floor, an upturned TARDIS, the desk filled with equations written in blood, the unhappy book nailed to the wall with pieces of the destroyed Rembrandt self-portrait, and the Time Lord lying on the floor clutching the bust of Shakespeare and incoherently muttering Captain Ahab quotes. Something like that.
Of course, the office looked completely normal. But sure enough, the Doctor was sprawled against his desk, limp, pale, his clothes a mess, hair like a traditional mad scientist, bloodshot and unfocused eyes gazing at a miraculously unscathed cover of Moby DickHe jerked back with a cry when the door opened like a man roused from a nightmare ( ... )
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This is fabulous. Very vivid and it definitely feels like what should have happened.
“And now, if you will excuse me, there’s a Zero Room in the TARDIS with my name on it”, the Doctor said, heading towards the box and swaying a little. “Figuratively speaking”, he added.
LOL
And so it came to pass, that after a few particularly unorthodox lectures, the board of trustees of St Luke's University finally gave up, and decided to let the Doctor lecture on whatever he wanted; and generally do whatever he liked.This makes such perfect sense, that I can't imagine it ( ... )
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I watch it, and I’m like “This poor, poor man. You said it, Doctor. Such a universal experience… Let’s write fic about his hilarious misery!”
This is fabulous. Very vivid and it definitely feels like what should have happened.
This is me reading Lolita for a class -with a quite enhanced sense of hatred, “this book is evil and is hurting me”, utter revulsion, and a desire to time-travel and kill Nabokov’s entire family with a flaming chainsaw, I’m afraid.
And then I went and got full marks in the exams. It’s weirdly insulting.
Anyway, it’s a comforting thought, knowing that I’m not alone. Haven’t read Moby Dick; my mum has though, and she agrees with the Doctor.
This makes such perfect sense, that I can't imagine it being otherwise.
I am very pleased to have added to someone’s headcanon.
The only thing better than this, would have ( ... )
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Of course! Otherwise life would be boring.
This is me reading Lolita for a class -with a quite enhanced sense of hatred, “this book is evil and is hurting me”, utter revulsion, and a desire to time-travel and kill Nabokov’s entire family with a flaming chainsaw, I’m afraid.
And then I went and got full marks in the exams. It’s weirdly insulting.
Mmmm, I hear ya. (I am disturbingly good at writing evil characters. Now and again that worries me.)
I am very pleased to have added to someone’s headcanon.
:)
(That one time poor Eight spectacularly crashed the Tardis in Mary Shelley’s garden, briefly fucked up his beautiful face, and inspired her to write Frankenstein -after a few adventures of course.)
LOL
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Mmmm, I hear ya. (I am disturbingly good at writing evil characters. Now and again that worries me.)
It’s not the “evil” aspect so much (the class was actually about studying adaptations, you know, 1962/1997 films). It’s more of a strange “my deep hatred is not being acknowledged and appreciated” reaction -while of course, I did want and was surprised by the good grades.
I don’t know, think Eleven in Victory of the Daleks :))
LOL
(Pets poor Eight.)
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HA! Love it. (And I even have an icon.)
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Love your icons.
(My family is a big fan of the "Tea, dammit!" one)
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Every word of this is accurate and priceless.
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I can't.
Too wonderful.
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