don't bog me down, son

metal-panda-alex:

doctorpcapaldis:

if you need any further reason to watch The Five Doctors Reboot (FDR) they got John Barrowman in it and showed that he was secretly a straight guy with a wife and kids i fucking love Peter Davison

British TV: where three men aged from 62-70 are horrified and shocked - not because they discovered a man is secretly gay - but because they discovered he’s secretly straight.

til-kingdomcomess:

Classic Doctor’s view on Matt Smith’s modern TARDIS.

til-kingdomcomess:

Classic Doctor’s view on Matt Smith’s modern TARDIS.

shoelessone:

sherlockstilinski:

pintpotjudas:

culturalrebel:

feyland:

linnealurks:

pygmy-of-triviality:

x

I really, genuinely feel awful for all of the old Doctors now. 


And the way Moffat explained it was soooo condescending:

“They’re all brilliant, they’re all terrific, but time has passed. I think it would be beyond the dignity of all those very fine actors to want to force themselves back into a costume from 20 or 30 years ago.” (SFX Magazine)

I saw Peter Davison speak yesterday at Hal Con, and his take on the issue was much the same. He said that he feels the 50th is celebrating the 50th Anniversary itself rather than 50 years of the program. He said that Moffat had basically penned something that celebrates his own work rather than something than something that celebrates the show as a whole. Peter Davison said that he felt let down to be part of a group excluded from the anniversary despite his role in its history, which is really very sad. 

He said that Moffat had basically penned something that celebrates his own work rather than something than something that celebrates the show as a whole.

I know I’ve reblogged this before, but the added Davidson quote just makes me terribly sad. I got into who properly in the Eccleston years, but I’ve always been aware of it. It’s a huge part of the TV culture of the UK and the wider sci fi community. People who have no interest in the show now remember hiding behind the sofa when they saw the Daleks. And some people have been watching the show since the beginning and still love it now. The fiftieth should not be about one man and his ego. It should be about the fans, all the doctors, all the companions and all the stories that have been loved and lived. And we’re not going to get that.

Can people see now that’s it’s not just some people on tumblr who are upset about this? It’s the actual actors from the show you all claim to love, being shunted aside for Moffat’s wank fest.

goddamn :c

moraniarty:

browningtons:

browningtons:

Holy shit I found the tardis

moraniarty:

browningtons:

browningtons:

Holy shit I found the tardis

image

twigwise:

peskytimepirate:

bemusedlybespectacled:

idrilka:

omfgitsagundam:

whovianfeminism:

Image Text: How is romanticizing stalking against feminism?

Gifs via (timelordsandladies)

You always know the people with the classiest of URLs are going to ask the classiest of questions.

Romanticizing stalking is against feminism because feminism aims to create a world where women can walk freely without the fear of being harassed by men and where their right to say “no” is respected.

Let me tell y’all a story. So last summer I was down in the center of the city to meet up with a high school friend of mine who was working there for the summer. He called me and told me his work was going to keep him late, so it might be an hour until we could meet. Not having anything else to do, I bought a book at the local bookstore and went and sat in the small park near where we were going to meet. It’s fairly popular and always packed with locals and tourists, so I ended up having to share a bench with someone. This man and I had no interactions together, except for one moment when a dog ran up between us and jumped up on our bench, and we just laughed and sent the dog back to its owner.

After thirty minutes I got hungry, so I left to go get a snack. I was taking a pretty weird route because I couldn’t decide what to eat, but eventually I chose a burger place and ordered some fries. A few moments later, the guy from the park bench follows me in.

I try to reason with myself that maybe he just happened to chose the same restaurant as me, but a moment later he sits down at a table right across from me where he can look me in the face, and he proceeds to stare at me the entire time I’m eating my french fries. I keep my eyes firmly focused on my book, but I can still see him out of the corner of my eye and he never looks away. As calmly as I can, I text my friend to come get me and leave the restaurant. In hindsight that wasn’t the smartest thing to do, since I was no longer surrounded by crowds and now on my own out in the street, but I just wanted him to stop staring at me.

He gets up a second after I do and follows me out into the street. Now that I’m isolated and alone he asks me what I’m doing that evening. I’ve never met him before and never spoken a word to him. I tell him I’m meeting a friend and make it clear I’m not interested. He keeps pushing for a few minutes before he finally realizes that I have my phone out, ready to call for help, and dejectedly says, “I just didn’t want you to spend tonight alone.”

He walks off, and I watch him to make sure he goes all the way back to the park and doesn’t try to wait and follow me again. My friend comes, and when I tell him about this experience he volunteers to walk me to my bus stop after dinner, where we watch and wait and make sure that guy isn’t still following me.

That man thought I was pretty. He thought we shared “a moment” when we laughed at the antics of a dog. And then he thought the next logical step in the flirting process was to follow me, stare me down, and then pressure me to spend the night with him. It wasn’t romantic, it was creepy and terrifying. For a week I watched my back constantly. For a month I didn’t go back to that area, in case he might still be there. And my case was a mild case of stalking.

In a way, it resembles the stalking narratives of Moffat’s episodes. It’s stalking-lite. Look, he tells us, it’s not dangerous. These men don’t mean to harm you. Why can’t you just give them the benefit of the doubt and view it as a flirtation?

But I think these are the most insidious narratives of them all. For one, it minimizes how truly violated and afraid stalking makes women feel. It ignores the fact that stalking usually escalates and becomes very dangerous. It teaches women that they shouldn’t “overreact” when a man does something like this by portraying it as romantic. But even worse, it teaches men that this is an acceptable method of flirtation. And it teaches men that when a woman says “NO,” that actually she’s just being coy and playing hard to get, which means he should simply escalate his behavior until she says yes.

Romanticizing this type of behavior teaches men that they can make public spaces threatening to women, and it teaches them that a woman’s consent is meaningless and that “NO” is simply an obstacle to be overcome with escalating behavior. Therefore, it is contrary to the goals of feminism, and contrary to any standards of decent human behavior.

Just raising my hand as another stalking victim.  It was in college, and it was some guy I met at an anime convention.  I gave him my e-mail address (the university one that I never used) just to get rid of him.  Instead, he found my student profile, got hold of my phone number and called me at least 5 times per day, and finally he showed up in the computer lab on campus looking for me.  It’s the one and only time I ever hid under a desk in public.

It’s not romantic or sweet.  It’s terrifying to know that this person doesn’t give a shit that you’re not interested, they will not give up until you give in.  And it makes me sick that so many (male, of course) writers think this should be viewed positively.

Jesus fucking Christ, this shit enrages me so much. I have been stalked by a man and there’s nothing even remotely romantic about that. There is nothing even remotely romantic about standing at a bus stop in the evening in winter, trying to let him know you don’t want to talk to him. There is nothing even remotely romantic about praying he’s waiting for another bus. There is nothing even remotely romantic about that feeling of panic when he gets in after you and starts watching you from a distance just to gradually come closer and closer, until he starts talking to you again, desperately trying to get your attention and violating your personal space in order to do so. There is nothing even remotely romantic about him following you home (while you try not to run or cry, or cry and run, and you can barely breathe), just to flee when he sees a neighbour walking his huge dog. There is nothing even remotely romantic about him finding you in the crowd for the second time and hopping onto the bus at the last moment to sit next to you and try to talk to you again. There is nothing even remotely romantic about being groped and then pushed so hard you almost fall when you frantically try to get away. There is nothing even remotely romantic about being spat at through the window when he gets out at the next stop and being called a whore and a cunt. There is nothing even remotely romantic about feeling like you’re suffocating all the way home and then crying silently in the bathroom for half an hour before your flatmate gives you a pill to help you calm down, because you’re shaking so hard. So don’t you dare tell me this shit doesn’t fucking matter. Don’t you dare tell me it’s harmless and it’s just silly fiction that doesn’t affect anyone. Don’t you dare.

I also experienced a mild case of stalking. He got a hold of my email address from the CC: section of blast emails from a club we were both in, then kept emailing me, asking me to chat with him. One memorable instance involved him taking the camera we used to blog and taking photographs of me while my back was turned. I only noticed because I happened to see his reflection when I looked at a display case in front of me, and told my boyfriend at the time, who told his mother (one of our club chaperones), who confiscated the camera. And it wasn’t the first time - he had a police record for stalking another girl.

He keeps trying to contact me, even though it’s been years. Every time he gets a new email address or Facebook account, he tries to add me. I have a folder of my old email address devoted solely to collecting his emails so I don’t have to see them.

Stalking is not about love or romance. Stalking is about fear.

I have a very mild case of stalking but still just as scary. When I moved into dorms for my first year of university, I noticed that the room have a telephone. It was nice, although I had no intention of using it and never gave the number out. (Hell, I didn’t even know the number for a long time!)

One night, it rang suddenly. Confused and thinking maybe it was from campus security about something important, I answered it. It was a young man, looking for a friend. I told him he had the wrong number and hung up. 10 minutes later, he calls again. Thinking he had the wrong number again, I just laugh it off and was as polite as I could. But then he calls -again- half an hour later.

A little uncomfortable at this point, he makes it worse but not leaving me alone when asked. He says he just wants to chat because I sound nice. I make it clear that I don’t really want to talk to him, as I don’t know him, and he says he understands, and I hang up.

The next day, he calls again. This time he is more persistent. I’m trying to be polite, but I’m starting to get seriously creeped out. He asks me to meet him for “dinner and a drink” so we could “get to know each other” because I sound “like a well spoken and nice girl”. I tell him I’m not interested, but he keeps pressing. I hang up on him. He then calls again a further three times -within that night- trying to persuade me to meet with him.

I end up getting in contact with the university and closing down the phone line. 

I was stalked by a man in freshman and part of sophomore year of High School. I was shy and awkward and a man (he was about 17 or 18 when this began, held back a couple years and all) took advantage of this to hang around me constantly, ask what I was doing, and generally be in my presence even though it made me uncomfortable. Eventually I “gave in” and attempted to befriend him, not realising that the “friendship” was abusive and full of both emotional and sexual harassment. Despite me being much younger than him and expressing that I wasn’t interested in men (at the time, this was true) he persisted in pressuring me to try and get me into a relationship.

Eventually, after he threatened to kill himself if I didn’t date him, I broke off our friendship.

This started his stalking behavior. He would message me over Skype (those of you who have known me for a long time know that this is why I didn’t use Skype until fairly recently) and deviantart then over my email address, which I had never given him. He told me he knew where I lived (which was true, he’d been to my house for a project before) and that he was going to come by at night and kill my family if I persisted in not talking to him. He told me that at a local convention he would find me and “force me to realize what I’d done wrong.” He posted drawn explicit art of me (blatantly me, an underage person) and him in escalating situations on his deviantart page and commented on mine, and then on those of my friends, when I blocked him.

When I approached the school about it, they said there was nothing they could do. I had my father (a federal officer) inform him that he’d be arrested if he tried anything, which made him back off for a while…

Until at a convention two years ago, where he followed me and one of my friends around. Unfortunately, “greasy, tall man dressed as L from Death Note” applies to too many people for security to have done anything. It continues to be a risk, though there’s the chance he’s lost interest over time… thankfully. (Though he’s confirmed to know and visit my tumblr and threaten me when I mention him; fun.)

It’s scary enough to have a problem with a stalker, even worse when authority refuses to act or acknowledge there’s a problem…

postmodernismruinedme:

forgetpolitics:

whatfreshhellisthis:

allonsy10:

professorspork:

myvintagelove:

ghost-of-algren:

namayo-archive:

BUT MOFFAT IS SUCH A GoOD WRITER GUISE.

I mean, how many companions can really pass this test?
Name one thing about Rose’s that doesn’t involve the Doctor, her mom, her dad, Mickey, or her job when she met the Doctor. I’m drawing a blank.

When she was sixteen she dropped school and moved out because she was in love with Jimmy Stone, which resulted in her never getting her A-levels. He later broke her heart and she returned to live with Jackie.
Is that enough?
RTD may have his flaws when it comes to writing (nobody’s perfect anyway) but at least he made the effort to give us glimpses of the life the companions had before meeting the Doctor. Moffat doesn’t care because that’s obviously not that important.

Rose got the bronze in an under-sevens gymnastics tournament; Rose’s best mate was named Shareen, and they used to skip school sometimes to go to the shops and look at boys; Rose loves chips and likes pizza and tolerates football; Rose has never learned French, though Jackie thinks she should’ve.
These are all things we learn within the first six episode of series one. And that’s not counting the remarkable depth and breadth provided when one fully incorporates her parents, which were restricted despite not being on Amy’s list. And you can say BUT THAT’S NOT FAIR, AMY DIDN’T HAVE PARENTS, but lol now she does and they’ve never explored how that changed her, and LOL PETE’S DEATH HAD A MASSIVE, VISCERAL EFFECT ON ROSE AND THE PLOT OF THE SHOW AND WAS MENTIONED SEVERAL TIMES BEFORE IT WAS EXPLORED AND IT’S A PART OF HER.
Rose’s life on the Powell Estate is more vividly rendered and thoroughly examined in just the Aliens of London/World War 3 two-parter than Leadworth has been in the two seasons we’ve known the Ponds. It’s not just Rose we learn about; we learn about her family in her absence, we see Mickey and Jackie interact and learn and grow together, painting a picture of their past and building a future, because they have a relationship COMPLETELY INDEPENDENT OF ROSE. We learn that Rose is the kind of person who knows exactly where things are in her boyfriend’s kitchen, even when he doesn’t, even when she hasn’t stepped foot in his flat in a (technical temporal) year. We get cut aways to the British *and American* newscasts of plot events, for chrissake. 
I mean, I’d make similar lists for Martha and Donna, or heck, even for any of the one-off guest companions from SINGLE EPISODES in Rusty’s era who’ve had more thoroughly-painted backstories than Amy Pond, but I’d give myself carpal tunnel and sacrifice several hours typing it all out.
The two showrunners are incomparable.

I was about to say the whole bronze under sevens thing but professor spork did a much better job. None of Moffat’s companions even compare. He just doesn’t flesh them out at all.

EXACTLY
I think I’m going to ask this post to marry me I love it so much

wow

I am so in love with this post.

postmodernismruinedme:

forgetpolitics:

whatfreshhellisthis:

allonsy10:

professorspork:

myvintagelove:

ghost-of-algren:

namayo-archive:

BUT MOFFAT IS SUCH A GoOD WRITER GUISE.

I mean, how many companions can really pass this test?

Name one thing about Rose’s that doesn’t involve the Doctor, her mom, her dad, Mickey, or her job when she met the Doctor. I’m drawing a blank.

When she was sixteen she dropped school and moved out because she was in love with Jimmy Stone, which resulted in her never getting her A-levels. He later broke her heart and she returned to live with Jackie.

Is that enough?

RTD may have his flaws when it comes to writing (nobody’s perfect anyway) but at least he made the effort to give us glimpses of the life the companions had before meeting the Doctor. Moffat doesn’t care because that’s obviously not that important.

Rose got the bronze in an under-sevens gymnastics tournament; Rose’s best mate was named Shareen, and they used to skip school sometimes to go to the shops and look at boys; Rose loves chips and likes pizza and tolerates football; Rose has never learned French, though Jackie thinks she should’ve.

These are all things we learn within the first six episode of series one. And that’s not counting the remarkable depth and breadth provided when one fully incorporates her parents, which were restricted despite not being on Amy’s list. And you can say BUT THAT’S NOT FAIR, AMY DIDN’T HAVE PARENTS, but lol now she does and they’ve never explored how that changed her, and LOL PETE’S DEATH HAD A MASSIVE, VISCERAL EFFECT ON ROSE AND THE PLOT OF THE SHOW AND WAS MENTIONED SEVERAL TIMES BEFORE IT WAS EXPLORED AND IT’S A PART OF HER.

Rose’s life on the Powell Estate is more vividly rendered and thoroughly examined in just the Aliens of London/World War 3 two-parter than Leadworth has been in the two seasons we’ve known the Ponds. It’s not just Rose we learn about; we learn about her family in her absence, we see Mickey and Jackie interact and learn and grow together, painting a picture of their past and building a future, because they have a relationship COMPLETELY INDEPENDENT OF ROSE. We learn that Rose is the kind of person who knows exactly where things are in her boyfriend’s kitchen, even when he doesn’t, even when she hasn’t stepped foot in his flat in a (technical temporal) year. We get cut aways to the British *and American* newscasts of plot events, for chrissake. 

I mean, I’d make similar lists for Martha and Donna, or heck, even for any of the one-off guest companions from SINGLE EPISODES in Rusty’s era who’ve had more thoroughly-painted backstories than Amy Pond, but I’d give myself carpal tunnel and sacrifice several hours typing it all out.

The two showrunners are incomparable.

I was about to say the whole bronze under sevens thing but professor spork did a much better job. None of Moffat’s companions even compare. He just doesn’t flesh them out at all.

EXACTLY

I think I’m going to ask this post to marry me I love it so much

wow

I am so in love with this post.

bagginsbagend:

I miss when Doctor Who just had a bunch of one-off episodes that were cute and cheesy. I miss when the story arch was subtly added in so that the climax of the season was so much cooler. I miss when the plot twists weren’t shoved in our faces all the time. I miss when there was actual continuity. I miss when the companions were relatable and seemingly ordinary people who became extraordinary. I miss that Doctor Who. 

darkstormytrite:

hayleytonks:

solthree:

positive lady characters meme | Martha Jones + powerful/feminist moment

I was 900% prepared for her to flip the bird for science in this scene like oh here’s the bones of the finger that I use to say ‘fuck you’

hey remember when we used to have companions who were actualized individuals and not just puzzles to be solved

kittenesque:

quorgi:

Hatchy’s not sorry

I just dropped my sandwich oh my god

harrytheahlizard:

zacheser:

And this is why Nine is my Doctor.

Suddenly I understand what one of my huge issues has been with the latest Doctor Who episodes

The Doctor has been reacting with horror rather than wonder, and running rather than communicating

Thanks 9 you’ve helped me come to a point of clarity

captainimaginary:

Snog-box
I’ve always seen so many lovely female Tardis cosplayers but never a male Tardis. I felt I had to change that. ;)
Tardis: Me
Photographer: Nova

captainimaginary:

Snog-box


I’ve always seen so many lovely female Tardis cosplayers but never a male Tardis. I felt I had to change that. ;)

Tardis: Me

Photographer: Nova

d0cpr0fess0r:

whitedenimjacket:

poco-loki:

thecorruptedquietone:

prongsmydeer:

Plot twist: The next companion is a normal girl/boy who only dies once in their lifetime and has no remarkable back story but he thinks they’re wonderful because they are human and…