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for technoscope: Yesterday


All my troubles seemed so far away,
Now it looks as though they're here to stay,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

I'm not half the man I used to be,
There's a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

It's very cold.

It's very cold and she's having trouble sleeping.

It shouldn't be this cold out, but she hasn't slept like this before, curled up in the sewer and desperately fighting the urge to cry.

She's stronger than this. She knows she is.

Yesterday, she would've said she could do this. Yesterday, she would've looked straight in the eye of anyone who questioned her and said Yes. I'm not afraid of anything the universe has to throw at me.

But today, the universe threw it at her.

It threw it hard.

And now she's alone.

Yesterday, it would've seemed like it was no big deal. She was irritated with the Doctor anyway, for getting them into this situation, for stealing the rest of her chips. But the warehouse and the cold there wasn't nearly as cold because they were together. They kept each other warm. It was a cold shared.

She doesn't know what's going on up there. She doesn't know how badly Saxon is hurting them. She doesn't even really know if they're alive (Except Jack, he can't die and that makes her even more afraid for him).

Yesterday, she'd have said she could do this on her own.

Today, she isn't sure.

She pulls her jacket closer around herself and tries to find sleep.

Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 217
You have to accept he's not coming back.

You don't want to, but it's been so long now, you really don't have much of a choice.


Once upon a time, you thought you'd never be rid of his affections. They weren't warranted, but you certainly weren't oblivious to them. It was like that light that never went on in the Doctor went on for him from the moment the Doctor dropped him at your doorstep.

It's kind of sweet, in a way. He reminds you of yourself, a long time ago, and maybe that's something you need. You need to see yourself the way you were, because the way you are isn't always the best you could be. You were better before, even if you were hopelessly in love with a man who never saw you. He's like that, now. He may not be in love with you, but he cares about you even if you're in love with Tom.

He looks at you as you practice your wedding day makeup and you're left wondering what he's thinking when he sees you.Collapse )

Muse: Martha Jones, MD
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,269
Based on RP with handysparehand (but not binding to RP!), special thanks to that mun for reading this over!

Happy Anniversary, handysparehand

Now, Martha doesn't know when Nameless's birthday is, so she picks a day which may or may not coincide with the one year anniversary of handysparehand's journal, to leave him a package on the kitchen table.

I know it's not really your birthday, but I didn't feel like waiting until the sign of crossed computers or whatever to give you this. I hope you like it.

What is inside the box...Collapse )
You're far too comfortable to move.

Not yet.

Sure, your Mum tells you that you should buy a larger flat, or a house, and make it perfect for yourself and Tom. That's what couples do, that's what she and your Dad did, that's what Leo and his girlfriend would do if his girlfriend would just be like any normal girl and marry him.

But your flat is safe. You can stand by the side window and know with absolute certainty that if someone was shooting at you outside, you could duck under the window and hide. And your front door has all the locks you've installed, and your bedroom door sticks just enough that only you and Tom can push it open without too much effort. You know the handle of the door and you know how to shift your arm and throw your weight into it, so you know without doubt that your bedroom is safe.

Your home is safe. Your carpet is plush and soft beneath your feet and the closeness of the walls is a tight, comforting feeling. It's not vast, like the TARDIS, or the world.

And what about Nameless? You ask your mother. You can't just tell him to leave, he's got nowhere to go!

What about him? Your mother demands back. He's not your husband, he's not even really a person. He's certainly not good for you, like Tom is.

He's my friend, you reply. There's a note to your voice that implies, to your ever-so-nosy-mother, that he's just your friend. Sure, in the heat of a very tense moment you and he have shared an idiotic kiss, but it was nothing Tom can't forgive. When you tell him. Which will be soon.

Just not yet.

And no, the bedroom Nameless is in at the moment wouldn't really make a good nursery, but you're not married yet, much less ready for children. What would you do with them, anyway? It's not as if you have time to take care of them. And Tom, well, Tom's a constant but absent presence in your life. He isn't ready to be a steady parent. Tom might tell you he is, but he isn't. He isn't.

The world like you know it isn't the sort you want to bring a child into, either. Cut for mild spoilers to Torchwood: Children of Earth.Collapse )

Muse: Martha Jones, MD
Fandom:Doctor Who
Word Count:1,387
based on RP with handysparehand

How's My Driving?

Private post, please be constructive with your criticism! Comments screened.

Permission Meme

Threadhopping with this character - yes/no/maybe so?:
No, please. Exceptions are totally all right, just PM me or drop an OOC comment.

Backtagging with this character - yes/no/maybe so?:
Yes, please.

Hugging this character?:
Of course!

Giving this character a kiss?:

Punching this character:
Yes! Though, she'll probably punch back!

Is there anything ought not be mentioned near this character?:
Anything can be mentioned, though certain things will evoke certain emotions, naturalement.

Is there anything you need us to know about interacting with this character? Special physical features, fighting abilities, STUFF:
Um! Um! She is awesome! Very pretty, but somewhat standoffish.

Anything else, please mention here:
I like you.
Following this.

When she woke up, she was surrounded by white. It was like waking from a dream in a cloud. Her body felt weightless, calm. She blinked and tried to focus. She was in a small, round room with bone-white walls and lying in a soft-fur bed as white as the rest of the room. Martha's dress had been replaced by a white tunic and skirt and her knee had been bandaged.

She put her hand to her leg. It didn't hurt.

Where was she? Where was Nameless?

A thin creature that looked as though it were made out of glass stepped into the room and raised a hand. It spoke to her in low, calm tones, but Martha couldn't understand it. After a moment, it gestured to a bowl of food, then turned and left.

for charloft: Measure

Companion piece to this brilliant story by savagestime.

First, do no harm.

She hates him.

She hates every moment of being around him. She washes her hands and scrubs the dirt underneath her nails away but she can never quite clean up the blood. He watches her with those small, piercing eyes. Like slivers of glass, they glitter and cut.

He looks at her as if he's waiting for her to speak. She won't. She's just his doctor, she's just doing her job. But she isn't going to speak. Not to him. Not to Saxon.

He'll always be Saxon to her, no matter how many times the Doctor corrects her and tells her he's the Master. He's not her Master.

"Oh, yes, question the name why don’t you, everyone else does!" he says, brightly. This is something Martha has come to expect of him. When she doesn't speak like he wants her to, he talks as though she's spoken. Responds as though she's still talking, still asking the questions he wants to hear. It would be disconcerting if she wasn't certain he was completely and utterly mad. She rolls her eyes and grabs the blood pressure monitor. He extends his arm without protest.

"You know, people don’t question the Doctor’s name half as much as they do mine, and his is just as arrogant, if not more so. Hello, ‘the Doctor’? He doesn’t even know medicine! Not enough that he could save a man’s life – thanks for that, by the way – and he hardly has the demeanor of a doctor. If I had a doctor like him, I’d have fired him ages ago."

His eyes glitter again. 'Lucky that I get you, isn't it?'Collapse )

Muse: Martha Jones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,569 not including lines from the Hippocratic Oath