//------------------------------// // Chapter 40: Eighth Isn't So Bad // Story: Celestia Uses An Online Dating Website // by RainbowBob //------------------------------// “Please, please, please! Take me back!” “Oh for the love of God… get off my lawn already!” “Please, sweetheart, you know you love me! Think about how well we’ll work together!” “For the last time, Doctor, get off my lawn or else I’m calling the police!” “But look!” the Eighth Doctor said, pointing to Celestia with a thumb over his shoulder. She refused to smile and merely covered her face with a hoof in shame. “I have Hasbro’s top marketing gimmick with me. Doesn’t that mean anything, Stevey?” Steven Moffat sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “No, Doctor, I won’t do another special. You already had your chance,” the middle-aged man said in a thick Scottish accent. The Eighth Doctor fell to his knees at the doorstep of Moffat’s home, clasping his hands together in a begging position. Out of all the Doctors thus far he appeared the most youthful and jubilant, though his wardrobe reminded Celestia of a human from the nineteenth century who hadn’t gotten with the times. He was all silk and dark colors with the occasional spot white from his undershirt. Overall a more drab and dreary appearance than his earlier incarnations who were making a big show at being the most colorful and fantastical, though Celestia couldn’t tell whether this change was good or bad. “Just give me another! Please, I need this! The audiobooks and graphic novels aren’t going to keep me going forever!” the Eighth Doctor said, his voice now pleading. “You just can’t leave me hanging here!” “What about me?” Celestia called out, leaning against the TARDIS. The Doctor gave her a dismissive glance and snorted. “You have at least five good seasons in you. I have nothing, missy, nothing!” Celestia sighed and rubbed a hoof across her face. “This might be the most pathetic date I’ve ever been on.” The Doctor fell to his chest, beating a fist against the ground beside Moffat’s foot, sobbing uncontrollably. “Please, give me another 50th special! Anything at all! I’ll even make out with the Eleventh. Heaven knows the fangirls would shower you in money and wet panties if that happened!” “Wait, yeah, this is definitely the most pathetic date I’ve ever been on. And that’s saying something.” Moffat shoved the Doctor aside with the tip of his shoe. “Doctor, it just isn’t going to happen. When the 75th anniversary special comes around, maybe, but not now. Not like this.” Moffat closed his door shut with a slam, leaving the Doctor curled up on his front porch, still sobbing. Celestia tiptoed closer to the Doctor, rubbing the back of her neck while not staring directly at him. “So yeeeeeah, I know this isn’t the best time. Crushed dreams and all that. But I’m gonna… hit the road right now.” The Doctor got back to his feet, no worse for the wear. Withdrawing a chained pocket watch from his coat, he asked, “Really, my dear? We could probably stop off at Russell Davies’ or Neil Gaiman’s place and have them concoct something for me. Plus, with you along for the trip, there’s no way I could possibly fail!” The note of desperation in his voice nearly made Celestia pity him, before she realized that she was the one who was normally the pitiful one. “No… no, I think you’ll have a much more enjoyable time without me. Plus, I finally got my wristwatch time traveling device working properly, so I don’t need to be your stick in the mud.” Celestia glanced at her hoof where the time traveling device normally clung to her foreleg, but was surprised to see nothing was there. Looking to the Doctor, she noticed he had it hanging from his fingertips, studying it with a mild interest. “Ah, so that’s what this strange contraption is.” He rotated it in his hands, humming under his breath. “Definitely would’ve been useful for me a while back, that’s for sure.” With a growl Celestia swiped the device out of his hands and attached it back to her hoof. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around pickpocketing my stuff, Doctor.” “Well, first off, you don’t have pockets—” “You’d be surprised.” “I am already. Secondly, it was on your wrist—erm, hoof. So really, it was wristpocketing… or hoofpocketing. Perhaps even horsepocketing.” The Doctor let out a short laugh like a cough. “Although I do suppose in this case it could be called ponypocketing, or maybe even the more correct term of alicornpocketing. What do you think, Cele—” Celestia was nowhere to be seen, an empty spot where she had just stood. The Doctor snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah, that’s where my rambling was leading me. I was just about to mention I had been fiddling with the device before she swiped it and may have accidentally reset the destination for the time travel location.” The Doctor rubbed his chin, frowning slightly. “I do hope I didn’t accidentally send her to a bad-off time period. By my calculations, she’s either in the middle of a war during Genghis Khan’s raiding of Mongolia and China, or the late Jurassic period.” The Doctor stopped, arching a brow suddenly. “Actually, now that I think about it, weren’t there two alicorns in the TARDIS last time I checked?”