1
-two completed Bowties Are Cool prompts.
Dress Up
Doctor Who (Amelia, Rory)
564 words. The Ponds, WAY! before they were the Ponds, playing confusing game of Raggedy Doctor. G.
“Rory, where are you?” Amy squeaks, searching high and low for her friend. “You were here a second ago.”
She folds her arms and taps her feet; then, upon hearing a scratch on the floor, she ducks underneath her bed, locating her friend curled up fetal position and surrounded by loose toys and lost socks. “Oh, come on,” she laughs. “We can’t play if you’re hiding!”
“I don’t play dress up,” Rory says, “and I don’t wear skirts. I’m eight.”
Amy glares at her friend, “I’m not asking you to wear a skirt.”
“Oh.”
Standing on phonebooks and her aunt’s expensive encyclopedias, Amy manages to pull down an old suitcase filled with old trousers and dress shirts. “Found it!” she yells in excitement
“Found what?” Rory asks. She never did tell me what I’ll be wearing, he notes, fearing the worst.
She drags the suitcase with one hand and Rory with the other into her aunt’s room. She isn’t allow in while her aunt’s away but Amy figures what her aunt doesn’t know won’t get her into trouble and her aunt’s wardrobe and closet are filled with the accessories she’s looking for- hightop trainers from her aunt’s ex-husband and a tie left over by a ‘friend’- so it’s worth the risk in Amy’s eyes.
After centering the suitcase as best she could, Amy unexpected plops on top and starts studying Rory. “His hair was fluffier and bigger than yours, Rory.”
“Huh?”
She gets up, runs over to her aunt’s vanity and grabs some hair gel. “Okay, this will work!”
“What?” Rory utters.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t like surprises,” Rory says, sitting on the left side of his friend’s aunt’s bed. “The clock says it’s three, and you still haven’t told me.”
Amy’s on the other side of the side, matching what appears to pair of brown pinstripe trousers, a white dress shirt and the tie from her aunt’s closet. “I’m almost finished, Rory. Five minutes.” Unlike the Doctor, she plans on keep her promise.
“Okay, you can get dressed now,” Amy smiles, handing Rory a pile of adult sized clothing to an eight year old boy.
He looks down at the clothing in his hands, wondering where she got the impression and wants to question it, though his mother once told him to never question a lady. He debates for a moment whether Amy’s a lady- but he figures he shouldn’t press the issue. He quite likes Amy and he shouldn’t do anything to ruin their friendship.
“Now, the trainers!” she chirps. “The outfit isn’t finish until the trainers are on!” She lifts Rory’s feet-one by-into a pair of white hightops. “Oh the necktie too,” she adds almost immediately. “Umm.”
“Perfect! Now we can leave in your time machine.”
“Amy,” Rory shutters, “what am I wearing and what time machine?”
“You’re the Doctor, silly. I thought you knew by now! Now that you returned, we can fly away like you promised me.”
“I heard my mum say he wasn’t real,” he replies back.
“Oh.”
Back in her room, Amy and Rory (still in costume) sit quietly. “Do you believe your mum? Do you believe he’s imaginary?” she whispers.
He looks at her, not knowing what to say when it comes to him. “We can do this again next weekend… if you want,” he smiles. “We could have adventures too!”
“Okay,” she smiles back.
Time Tells Us Nothing
Doctor Who (Eleven/Martha)
1205 words worth of wish projections and reasons why Eleven/Martha would have been my Martha OTP instead of Ten/Martha if Martha was an actual companion for Eleven because THEY JUST FIT WELL TOGETHER. Mm'kay. PG.
“I’m sorry for interrupting you. I thought you were someone else. You remind me of someone else I once knew,” Martha tells him because that’s what you do in the case of mistaken identity.
The next time she runs into him, he’s fighting off yet another alien invasion with a young ginger companion.
She laughs. “Doctor?”
(Martha thinks about apologizing about what happened two weeks ago but decides not.)
He blinks then places his hands in his pockets. Silence.
“You beat me here,” she says.
“I have time machine,” he replies, matter-of-factly.
“It’s good seeing you,” she smiles, walking away.
This time she sees his ginger companion at a coffee shop - at her coffee shop, she notes.
“Hello,” she says, brushing her hair out her face. “I saw you two month ago with the Doctor. We have something in common.”
His ginger companion looks up from her magazine, “I’m Amy. He told me to come here to investigate you.”
“I’m Martha, and that sounds like him.”
After some bonding, Amy invites her back to the TARDIS. Amy mentions how much he has been talking about her since their first encounter weeks back
(It is two day ago from Amy’s prospective. They are time travellers, Martha reminds herself.)
“You’ve redecorated,” Martha says, twirling throughout the TARDIS and finding new surprises here, there and everywhere.
“Had to, Jones,” he laughs. “I crashed while regenerated - lost the pool. I liked that pool. It got replaced with a library. I need a fifth library. I’ve inquired many lost books lately. Or, maybe, it’s a zoo. I don’t go in there too much so you can never be sure.”
He tells her all this while playing with his sleeve. She wonder if he’s ever been this nervous with anyone else or just past friends - companions, friends would implied they had more contact after she left her Doctor - that causes him to act this way.
“He got lost looking for a laundry room last week,” Amy speaks. “I didn’t even know he did laundry.”
Martha suppresses a chuckle.
(She also wonders if this Doctor ever located the sweater she lost in one many rooms she ventured in. She doesn’t ask.)
The Doctor asks her to accompany Amy and him to back Venice. He says something about wanting to settle a score with Casanova. It’s so like him.
However, she declines, “I have career now - a proper career. I can’t defend the Earth without a roof over my head.”
He looks disappointed.
“Don’t be like that,” she smiles. “You still have my mobile? You should try keeping in touch with your friends with this regeneration.”
He laughs. (She notes how good this Doctor has gotten with genuine laughter.) “Stay out of trouble, Martha Jones.”
She receives a call a year later.
(Three days from his prospective.)
She requests he parks the TARDIS in her flat like ‘the old days’. (She chuckles over having ‘old days’.) They exchange ‘hellos’. Amy is here too, alongside a taller boy. From the looks of it - the boy’s mooning over Amy like she once did with her Doctor - she would say they were dating but she doesn’t want to make any assumptions.
He speaks, “Amy and Rory - that’s Rory; say hello to Rory, Martha -”
“Uh, nice to meet you, Rory,” she says, surprised at her compliance.
“- suggested we take you on a vacation,” he continues.
“It wasn’t our idea,” Rory spits out. “It was his. We just had to convince him to phone you.”
“He was very grumpy-face after you left,” Amy says in a slight sing-a-long voice. “We couldn’t have that.”
She grins. “I’ll come along,” she begins, “only if you promise you’ll get me home by tomorrow.” Martha, of course, knows that with a time machine she has the chance to push back tomorrow indefinitely and, with this Doctor, indefinitely might not be such a bad thing. It might actually be fun.
He nods a yes, smiling. She accepts.
They visit lost moons and flea shops located on Mars.
They stop another Cybermen takeover on Earth and visit a world that reminds her of a fairytale.
Amy and she bonds over their adventures with the Weeping Angels. Martha hugs her new friend tight after learning about the angel in her eye. Amy forces Martha to make a vow that she’ll never work to support their Doctor again.
(Martha wonders when Amy’s Doctor and her Doctor became their Doctor; it must have been when she accepted his invitation. She then questions if she’s okay with this development.)
They move on to tales about starwhales and the Judoon on the moon.
She finds the Doctor, late at night, thinking by the TARDIS console.
“Can’t sleep?” she whispers.
“I don’t sleep,” he replies. “Well I do, not as much as humans. You should know this, Jones.”
“I know. I was trying to comfort you,” she laughs. She finds herself laughing more and more with each passing day.
“Oh.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“Time, space, daleks - ha! If I could finish them for good without forcing me to choose my friends and Earth, and defending them … they always force me choose.”
She’s leaning against the console beside him, “You encountered the daleks again?”
“WWII London,” he replies, halfheartedly.
They spend the rest of the night sitting down - back to back - talking about old adventures they shared, the new adventures he has shared with Amy (and, with extension, Rory), and her busy life has a freelance alien fighter slash family doctor until she falls asleep. He pretends to do the same.
(The next morning, she decides that this Doctor could be her Doctor too.)
“Tell me,” she says, “what’s with the bowtie?” She gets closer to him then finds herself fixing his prize wardrobe position.
“You’ve been talking to Pond,” he teases. “Bowties are cool.”
She pushes his shoulder playfully, then jokes, “So you do say that at every opportunity.”
“No, only for you,” he pauses, “and, by the way, my bowtie didn’t need fixing.”
She stares at him for a couple minutes, puzzled, when he simply walks off to where ever he goes when he’s not flying the TARDIS through time and space.
(‘He’s wrong. It was crooked,’ she tells herself.)
“Tomorrow has been delayed long enough,” she mentions three days later. “I should get back to work.”
He hides a frown.
She runs off to say her farewells to Amy, then Rory.
“You’ll see me again, mister,” Martha says, echoing words from a lifetime ago.
He mouths ‘goodbye’.
She goes for in for the hug.
She’s woken up by a call four months later.
The Doctor shows up the following morning. “We never visit Pluto.”
Martha glares at him for an undetermined amount of time before she speaks, “Pluto?”
“There’s a myth about Pluto. That time itself got lost there. Uh, someone should investigate - Amy and Rory, you and I.”
She laughs, “You are - why didn’t you just tell me you wanted me to stay?”
He offers his hand. She takes it.
“Pluto, it is.”
Dress Up
Doctor Who (Amelia, Rory)
564 words. The Ponds, WAY! before they were the Ponds, playing confusing game of Raggedy Doctor. G.
“Rory, where are you?” Amy squeaks, searching high and low for her friend. “You were here a second ago.”
She folds her arms and taps her feet; then, upon hearing a scratch on the floor, she ducks underneath her bed, locating her friend curled up fetal position and surrounded by loose toys and lost socks. “Oh, come on,” she laughs. “We can’t play if you’re hiding!”
“I don’t play dress up,” Rory says, “and I don’t wear skirts. I’m eight.”
Amy glares at her friend, “I’m not asking you to wear a skirt.”
“Oh.”
Standing on phonebooks and her aunt’s expensive encyclopedias, Amy manages to pull down an old suitcase filled with old trousers and dress shirts. “Found it!” she yells in excitement
“Found what?” Rory asks. She never did tell me what I’ll be wearing, he notes, fearing the worst.
She drags the suitcase with one hand and Rory with the other into her aunt’s room. She isn’t allow in while her aunt’s away but Amy figures what her aunt doesn’t know won’t get her into trouble and her aunt’s wardrobe and closet are filled with the accessories she’s looking for- hightop trainers from her aunt’s ex-husband and a tie left over by a ‘friend’- so it’s worth the risk in Amy’s eyes.
After centering the suitcase as best she could, Amy unexpected plops on top and starts studying Rory. “His hair was fluffier and bigger than yours, Rory.”
“Huh?”
She gets up, runs over to her aunt’s vanity and grabs some hair gel. “Okay, this will work!”
“What?” Rory utters.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t like surprises,” Rory says, sitting on the left side of his friend’s aunt’s bed. “The clock says it’s three, and you still haven’t told me.”
Amy’s on the other side of the side, matching what appears to pair of brown pinstripe trousers, a white dress shirt and the tie from her aunt’s closet. “I’m almost finished, Rory. Five minutes.” Unlike the Doctor, she plans on keep her promise.
“Okay, you can get dressed now,” Amy smiles, handing Rory a pile of adult sized clothing to an eight year old boy.
He looks down at the clothing in his hands, wondering where she got the impression and wants to question it, though his mother once told him to never question a lady. He debates for a moment whether Amy’s a lady- but he figures he shouldn’t press the issue. He quite likes Amy and he shouldn’t do anything to ruin their friendship.
“Now, the trainers!” she chirps. “The outfit isn’t finish until the trainers are on!” She lifts Rory’s feet-one by-into a pair of white hightops. “Oh the necktie too,” she adds almost immediately. “Umm.”
“Perfect! Now we can leave in your time machine.”
“Amy,” Rory shutters, “what am I wearing and what time machine?”
“You’re the Doctor, silly. I thought you knew by now! Now that you returned, we can fly away like you promised me.”
“I heard my mum say he wasn’t real,” he replies back.
“Oh.”
Back in her room, Amy and Rory (still in costume) sit quietly. “Do you believe your mum? Do you believe he’s imaginary?” she whispers.
He looks at her, not knowing what to say when it comes to him. “We can do this again next weekend… if you want,” he smiles. “We could have adventures too!”
“Okay,” she smiles back.
Time Tells Us Nothing
Doctor Who (Eleven/Martha)
1205 words worth of wish projections and reasons why Eleven/Martha would have been my Martha OTP instead of Ten/Martha if Martha was an actual companion for Eleven because THEY JUST FIT WELL TOGETHER. Mm'kay. PG.
“I’m sorry for interrupting you. I thought you were someone else. You remind me of someone else I once knew,” Martha tells him because that’s what you do in the case of mistaken identity.
The next time she runs into him, he’s fighting off yet another alien invasion with a young ginger companion.
She laughs. “Doctor?”
(Martha thinks about apologizing about what happened two weeks ago but decides not.)
He blinks then places his hands in his pockets. Silence.
“You beat me here,” she says.
“I have time machine,” he replies, matter-of-factly.
“It’s good seeing you,” she smiles, walking away.
This time she sees his ginger companion at a coffee shop - at her coffee shop, she notes.
“Hello,” she says, brushing her hair out her face. “I saw you two month ago with the Doctor. We have something in common.”
His ginger companion looks up from her magazine, “I’m Amy. He told me to come here to investigate you.”
“I’m Martha, and that sounds like him.”
After some bonding, Amy invites her back to the TARDIS. Amy mentions how much he has been talking about her since their first encounter weeks back
(It is two day ago from Amy’s prospective. They are time travellers, Martha reminds herself.)
“You’ve redecorated,” Martha says, twirling throughout the TARDIS and finding new surprises here, there and everywhere.
“Had to, Jones,” he laughs. “I crashed while regenerated - lost the pool. I liked that pool. It got replaced with a library. I need a fifth library. I’ve inquired many lost books lately. Or, maybe, it’s a zoo. I don’t go in there too much so you can never be sure.”
He tells her all this while playing with his sleeve. She wonder if he’s ever been this nervous with anyone else or just past friends - companions, friends would implied they had more contact after she left her Doctor - that causes him to act this way.
“He got lost looking for a laundry room last week,” Amy speaks. “I didn’t even know he did laundry.”
Martha suppresses a chuckle.
(She also wonders if this Doctor ever located the sweater she lost in one many rooms she ventured in. She doesn’t ask.)
The Doctor asks her to accompany Amy and him to back Venice. He says something about wanting to settle a score with Casanova. It’s so like him.
However, she declines, “I have career now - a proper career. I can’t defend the Earth without a roof over my head.”
He looks disappointed.
“Don’t be like that,” she smiles. “You still have my mobile? You should try keeping in touch with your friends with this regeneration.”
He laughs. (She notes how good this Doctor has gotten with genuine laughter.) “Stay out of trouble, Martha Jones.”
She receives a call a year later.
(Three days from his prospective.)
She requests he parks the TARDIS in her flat like ‘the old days’. (She chuckles over having ‘old days’.) They exchange ‘hellos’. Amy is here too, alongside a taller boy. From the looks of it - the boy’s mooning over Amy like she once did with her Doctor - she would say they were dating but she doesn’t want to make any assumptions.
He speaks, “Amy and Rory - that’s Rory; say hello to Rory, Martha -”
“Uh, nice to meet you, Rory,” she says, surprised at her compliance.
“- suggested we take you on a vacation,” he continues.
“It wasn’t our idea,” Rory spits out. “It was his. We just had to convince him to phone you.”
“He was very grumpy-face after you left,” Amy says in a slight sing-a-long voice. “We couldn’t have that.”
She grins. “I’ll come along,” she begins, “only if you promise you’ll get me home by tomorrow.” Martha, of course, knows that with a time machine she has the chance to push back tomorrow indefinitely and, with this Doctor, indefinitely might not be such a bad thing. It might actually be fun.
He nods a yes, smiling. She accepts.
They visit lost moons and flea shops located on Mars.
They stop another Cybermen takeover on Earth and visit a world that reminds her of a fairytale.
Amy and she bonds over their adventures with the Weeping Angels. Martha hugs her new friend tight after learning about the angel in her eye. Amy forces Martha to make a vow that she’ll never work to support their Doctor again.
(Martha wonders when Amy’s Doctor and her Doctor became their Doctor; it must have been when she accepted his invitation. She then questions if she’s okay with this development.)
They move on to tales about starwhales and the Judoon on the moon.
She finds the Doctor, late at night, thinking by the TARDIS console.
“Can’t sleep?” she whispers.
“I don’t sleep,” he replies. “Well I do, not as much as humans. You should know this, Jones.”
“I know. I was trying to comfort you,” she laughs. She finds herself laughing more and more with each passing day.
“Oh.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“Time, space, daleks - ha! If I could finish them for good without forcing me to choose my friends and Earth, and defending them … they always force me choose.”
She’s leaning against the console beside him, “You encountered the daleks again?”
“WWII London,” he replies, halfheartedly.
They spend the rest of the night sitting down - back to back - talking about old adventures they shared, the new adventures he has shared with Amy (and, with extension, Rory), and her busy life has a freelance alien fighter slash family doctor until she falls asleep. He pretends to do the same.
(The next morning, she decides that this Doctor could be her Doctor too.)
“Tell me,” she says, “what’s with the bowtie?” She gets closer to him then finds herself fixing his prize wardrobe position.
“You’ve been talking to Pond,” he teases. “Bowties are cool.”
She pushes his shoulder playfully, then jokes, “So you do say that at every opportunity.”
“No, only for you,” he pauses, “and, by the way, my bowtie didn’t need fixing.”
She stares at him for a couple minutes, puzzled, when he simply walks off to where ever he goes when he’s not flying the TARDIS through time and space.
(‘He’s wrong. It was crooked,’ she tells herself.)
“Tomorrow has been delayed long enough,” she mentions three days later. “I should get back to work.”
He hides a frown.
She runs off to say her farewells to Amy, then Rory.
“You’ll see me again, mister,” Martha says, echoing words from a lifetime ago.
He mouths ‘goodbye’.
She goes for in for the hug.
She’s woken up by a call four months later.
The Doctor shows up the following morning. “We never visit Pluto.”
Martha glares at him for an undetermined amount of time before she speaks, “Pluto?”
“There’s a myth about Pluto. That time itself got lost there. Uh, someone should investigate - Amy and Rory, you and I.”
She laughs, “You are - why didn’t you just tell me you wanted me to stay?”
He offers his hand. She takes it.
“Pluto, it is.”