doctor6: (d6 lounging)
May 2007: 1c. Write about a time you truly struggled.

When you're over 900 years old, there naturally comes a time when the old reflexes begin to respond a bit slower and the mind doesn't seem quite as agile. Nothing that a good regeneration couldn't solve readily enough, but I'm not one of those Time Lords that will change my appearance as casually as if it were a new jacket. I prefer to ride out what fate has given me.

That being said, I don't have much of a choice in the matter. So if a regeneration turns out to be a bit more erratic and unstable than the last, or perhaps a bit too big-boned in the opinion of others, there can but persevere. Not that I'm adverse to a few changes. Dropping a few pounds here or there, for instance, isn't entirely out of the question. In fact, I can drop my weight any time I care to set my mind to it. And I can do so without Melanie's rope-jumping, pedal-pushing, carrot-juice swilling regimen, thank you very much. Any time at all.

I just don't want to.
doctor6: (Default)
"Amazing," sighed Evelyn. "It's everything I imagined it would be."

The Doctor smiled. "Not disappointed, then?"

"Certainly not. Why would I be?"

"Well, you have to admit, it has been rather overdone by your movies and television."

"The world according to Cecil B. DeMille?" Evelyn chuckled. "I'm a scholar, Doctor. I know the difference between fact and fantasy. And this!" She waved a hand to encompass the whole of the Roman forum. "This is most definitely not fiction! Who knew there would be so many colors and textures on the buildings? And who could imagine all of the sights and smells and sounds!" She sighed. "What a shame I can't show this to my students. Or to my colleagues, for that matter. Living history!"

"It isn't history to the Romans," said the Doctor, absently selecting a fig from a merchant's cart and examining it.

"I suppose not," agreed Evelyn, her expression thoughtful. "But sometimes I can't help wondering . . .how do you keep track of it all?"

"What, Rome?"

"No, no! Time and space, past, present, future. You've seen so much; been to so many places. Do you think of this as your history or your present?"

"It simply is," replied the Doctor. "It's who I am." He shrugged. "It's what I am."
doctor6: (d6 windswept)
14A. What is the one thing you want the most?

I've been called many things throughout my lives. The Doctor, Merlin, meddler, sage, philosopher, the face of evil, and demon, just to name a few. No doubt I've earned every single one of them. Am I good or am I evil? It doesn't matter what I believe myself to be; as with any battle, whether I am a savior or a scourge depends on whose side you're on. It's what happens when you care enough about justice and the rights of other beings to interfere in events that might otherwise be allowed to run their course unchecked.

I can usually ignore the names and epitaphs, but there's one that cuts me as easily as a blade. Sticks and stones, I'm sure Peri would say in her quaint American vernacular. But I doubt anyone has ever called her Murderer.

It isn't as though I deliberately set out to overthrow governments or change civilizations. I only have the best of intentions. Unfortunately, that isn't always enough to save innocent lives.

The thing I want the most? That once -- just once! – everyone would live to see the end of the adventure.
doctor6: (dr 6 & peri)
It wasn't often that the Doctor looked at the device. It was enough to know that it was there. He had a photographic memory, after all. But sometimes, on days like today when he found himself alone once more, memory wasn't enough.

The Doctor slipped the small wafer-thin object from his pocket and looked down at the silvered surface.

"Show me," he said quietly.

Light flickered as a holographic image coalesced into the three dimensional image of a young woman with short, close-cropped black hair and eyes very similar to his own. Looking slightly to his left, she said in a cheerful voice, "Hullo, Grandfather!"

A slight wave of his hand over the device and the image shimmered into that of a tall youth dressed in the antiquated fashion of the Jacobean Highlands. He stood with his arm draped protectively about the slender shoulders of a dark haired girl dressed in futuristic silver.

"There ye are, Doctor!" said the lad in a heavy Scots brogue. "We've been looking all over for you!"

One by one they came and went before him, their faces and voices familiar and cherished. Men, women, robots, time lords. These, the special few who had chosen to step through the TARDIS doors and accompany him throughout time and space. Some were more dear to him than others but each and every one held a special place in his hearts. They were, and always would be, a special part of his lives. The very best part.
doctor6: (dr 6 & peri)
Picture Prompt

"This isn't so bad," said the Doctor, tucking his hands behind his head and reclining with his back against the stone wall.

"Not bad? Not bad!" shrilled Peri as she paced the narrow confines of their cell. "It's terrible! It's cramped and it's cold and it's damp and it stinks. Some vacation! Stuck in the dungeon of a castle on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere--"

"—Transylvania--"

"—waiting to get our heads chopped off by some blood thirsty tyrant who thinks we're spies for the Turks!"

"Vlad," the Doctor corrected her. "His name is Vlad, and beheadings aren't exactly his style. He prefers a more creative means of execution."

"Thank you so much for clearing that up."

"Look on the bright side. We have a window."

"Oh, great! A window with lots of iron bars!" she said sarcastically. "Who needs a watch to tell us when we're going to be executed when we can see the sun set from the comfort of our cell?"

"Precisely! And as long as we can see daylight, we still have time."

"Time for what?"

"Liberation, my dear Perpegillium," proclaimed the Doctor as he bounded onto his feet. "Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage." With a flourish, he produced a sonic lance from one of the many capacious pockets of his colorful coat. "Especially when you can cut through them as easily as butter!"
doctor6: (d6 inside TARDIS)
You discover a letter you wrote to yourself ten years ago. What does the letter say? Write the letter.

Dear Me )
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