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ximilia2021-10-24 03:56 pm
{ video; } - This is all a Series of Clerical Errors / aka Meet the Doctor(s)
But hey, you’re still awake, maybe you couldn’t sleep, and this is bound to be entertaining at best, and easily deletable content at worst. (But don’t do it. Don’t delete this. It’s very important information; it’s information that might one day save your life.)
A clickable link appears on said post, leading to the best, most easily understood PowerPoint Presentation to ever exist: ]
And then the video flicks on and two faces appear through your vision: one young, one older; one with a silly grin over his face, and the other one scowling like he might exorcise the demons right out of you.
The first of the two men starts to speak: ]
—Okay, me first. Then you. Hopefully, there won’t be a need for a long, talky Q&A session after the fact.
[ He says while tugging down at the sleeve of his zip up hoodie that is also covered by an elaborate navy Crombie coat with red lining on the inside. Very punk rock. ]
Right. Apparently, there is a little confusion going around as to why there are two individuals with the same name. So let’s not make things more complicated than they are and accept there are, in fact, two Doctors.
[ He scratches his bottom lip. ]
Or rather, the same Doctor is standing right here, right now, at this very moment. Two of the same person from very different parts of our timeline.
[ The Doctor (the older, more distinguished Scottish one) eyes at his younger, clumsier self. ]
This is your cue, chinny.
Oy, you—
[ This Doctor, decked out in his signature bowtie and suspenders, forgoing the overcoat today, gives his other self a rather briefly petulant glare before turning back towards the screen with something of a defeated sigh. ]
Yes. Hello. [ His expression brightens considerably now, because he’s doing a network thingy! ] What he — that is, me from the future — said is true. We are, indeed, two of the same person. Same name, same memories, different parts of our timeline. You see, we’re not like humans, we don’t have one face throughout our whole lives. Each time one of our lives ends and a new one begins, we get a sort of … change of clothes. And faces. Hair. Still not ginger, though. Suppose we don’t really get a say in it, do we?
[ He taps his temple. ]
You can see it in the PowerPoint. There’s a sort of squiggly bit here that represents our timeline. And the fish! With the fez and the guitar! Two very different things, but both of them are us. And oh — the biscuits. Jammie dodgers, brilliant, I like how they look like stars here — [ Ah, but he’s getting distracted; that happens a lot with this one. ] — we all have our quirks, I suppose. But Granddad here remembers everything that’s happened to me, eh? Except he can’t tell me because — well, spoilers.
[ Guess who is throwing an equally petulant glower right back at himself. ]
Seriously?! [ He points directly at the camera. ] That’s our end product? That was supposed to be the second draft — Come on, look at it! There are more biscuits than there are planets in the Milky Way! And what happened to the original score I wrote on the whiteboard?
[ The Doctor flails in a more directed manner, having his arms point out at an angle towards whatever is there offscreen. ]
You were supposed to copy that and add that next to the skeleton. The skeleton is supposed to go with the music score or else the whole thing makes no sense! I had an entire lecture written out on The Smiths and The Predestination Paradox.
[ The Doctor walks slightly off-camera to scrub his face. ]
I can only make two cats at the computer sound intelligible for so long!
Nobody wants to hear your lectures, Doctor, and that isn’t how PowerPoints work anyway! You can’t just add a whole score, there wouldn’t be enough room for the wibbly wobbly —
[ There’s a bit of fussing going about as the Doctor leans away from the viewfinder to also flap at the whiteboard (a wall, it’s a wall) in the back.
If he’s forced to listen to all of that overly screechy wailing and racket of his ‘score’ again — well, the face this Doctor makes demonstrates just precisely how he feels about it.
No thank you, that’s about four and a half hours he’s never going to get back until he gets his TARDIS again. ]
Right. [ Back in view, the Doctor makes a gesture to the cats, huffing a bit. ] I thought the cats were perfect.
Overshadowed by an army of Jammie Dodgers!
[ The two Doctors go off in an incoherent squabble. I mean, that should be more than plenty for the rest of the crew to comprehend, right?
...right? ]
[ Feel free to thread hop to your heart’s content!! The Doctor(s) will be all over your questions/comments/concerns like butter on toast. Purple = The Doctor (12) ; Blue = The Doctor (11) ]
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