My Heart Belongs To Jodie Whittaker

And then Doctor Who just goes, “Nah, screw that. It’s this weird alien who gets distracted by string and has space ADHD.”

one: transmasc but like in a time lord -> human way. not ftm but rather gtm (gallifreyan to male). stole ian's gender and never gave it back. he/him

two: genderweird gremlin, pronouns whatever/annoys/you/most

three: consciously presents as time lord rather than anything recognisably human. the closest earth word for it would be agender. most humans read them as a faggot. they/them or if you must he/him

four: genderweird cryptid, he/him but anything goes

five: spiritually transmasculine, toxically masculine also. consciously presents as a man but most humans still read him as a fag. unbelievable. world's first transmasc deadbeat dad; channelling the spirit of cricket at the height of the british empire; copied romana's looks in the divorce. he/him and deeply uneasy about it

six: clown. at home at pride parades. THEY/THEM

seven: a guy for the bit. a funnyman, not a man. weird little gremlin. they/them or he/him for the laughs

eight: gender? i hardly know her! does not consciously present as anything, yet still gets read as a fag. he/him but only because it's what most people use. would not blink if you she/her'd xem

nine: stone butch. too depressed for pronouns. or names.

ten: prettyboy or something? he/they but anything goes

eleven: gender? what's that? he/they but tries not to think too hard about the whole thing

twelve: spiritually transmasculine, but cool about it this time. gender is everything except girl. he/him, has been putting his pronouns in his email signature since before emails were invented

thirteen: vaguely guy, mostly agender. so used to being treated as a man that they kind of think of themself as a man and definitely treat themself as one. they/them, used to he/him, always confused and mildly put off by she/her

like you just went through a terribly traumatic event, felt every cell in your body die, lost your internal sense of self to the point you don’t even know your favourite foods anymore or what clothes you like to wear. and before you can even decide whether you will grow to like this new you, this you that you didn’t even properly choose to become, you have to prove to others that you’re still worthwhile.

you have to explain your traumatic death to people who don’t know, because they’ll never experience this and they know nothing of your culture, and beg your closest friends not to be angry. not to abandon you. you have to let them mourn the dead you while you’re still learning how to find joy in the new you. you have to assure them you’re still the same person they loved in the same few days where your name is only just on the tip of your tongue and all of your memories have different faces than your own.

your death didn’t happen to you, it happened to them, so there is no time to be insecure or decompress. you have to be the most You you’ve ever been, or they’ll leave. they always leave in the end, but you need them now more than ever, and if you aren’t You Enough, if they can’t move on from the old you, they’ll leave the new you all alone.

Sometimes they won’t even stick around that long. The mere idea of a new you will be too much, so you’ll have to pretend that you’d rather start your new life alone anyways.

"And i suspose it was quite unfair of the timelords to put the doctor in the 70s of all times. And they mustve known the master would show up too. God knows theyd follow each other every where. I just think if their inital meeting was somewhere a bit less homophobic, and a bit more progressive i could sorted them out in five minutes with a marriage counselor"

I made it a series - historical Doctor Who companions.