apples-r-rubbish

[apples-r-rubbish]

The other one im like iffy with is mental illness in fics if is purely rooted around that i find it hard. But anything else is ok :)

hey, dear! Is there anything you don't write?

I don’t write nsfw or song fics. I think that’s pretty much it. Nsfw im just uncomfy with and song fics personally just aren’t my thing

[apples-r-rubbish]

hey, dear! Is there anything you don't write?

I don’t write nsfw or song fics. I think that’s pretty much it. Nsfw im just uncomfy with and song fics personally just aren’t my thing

[apples-r-rubbish]

The blue underline in Google docs is the bane of my existence. Sorry I phrased something in a way that conveys the emotion, image, and syntax I wanted instead of adhering to grammar guidelines should I kill myself

[apples-r-rubbish]

Just found the perfect music to write a very specific scene to

[apples-r-rubbish]

Small Town (11th Doctor x Reader) - Part 2

Summary: It snows in October, an Amberpoint tradition. On this peculiar snow day you find things aren't just cold outside. Count: 2.3k Warnings: unreality, self gaslighting, mentions of death, long gaps between updates A/N: I didn't mean for this to take literally 8 months, but I have a degree now! it is what it is, sorry, I can't promise I will ever update consistently because that's not my style. However, Thank you for all the support of my fics even though I went M.I.A -L <3

MASTERLIST | PART ONE | PART TWO (you are here !)

You were wandering around the TARDIS arm outstretched out gently touching the walls with your fingertips. The ship hummed gently appreciating your company. It had been an overwhelming 36 hours. 

The asylum was cold, wet and frightening. You prided yourself on generally being quite brave, but that place, that cold, dark, wet, place, sucked the energy right out of your soul. A dalek with a heart was not an easy sight, and as the doctor explained it you felt instantly floored.  The horrors you’d seen remained in your mind. At some point you slipped your way down the wall and allowed a few silent tears to slip from your eyes, and a figure came and sat next you and you slowly began to-

No. This wasn’t right. They don’t exist. You made them up. This isn’t real. That didn’t happen. The dream stopped almost as quickly as it had come to you. It was replaced by an intense feeling of loss you couldn’t quite place.

You stirred from your sleep in waves. Slowly, slowly, you rose from your bed. The world was cold. You read the clock. It was 9 am, 27th October. You searched for warmth through the covers and it was ultimately unsuccessful. John must’ve gotten up early. You curled yourself up in bed for a moment longer, bracing yourself for the chill of air that would eventually come. 

You wandered down the stairs now fully dressed. You frowned at your pyjamas, you couldn’t remember getting them. They were a gift, probably. John stood by the landline mumbling something into the phone. There didn’t seem to be a response coming through, but the conversation continued. He seemed to unstiffen when he saw you and mumbled ‘Work’ while scribbling a barely legible chicken scratch-esque note on paper before waving it at you. 

‘Breakfast - in the Kitchen.’ It was something of an Amberpoint oddity, snow days in October. For as long as you’d lived there had always been at least one. It was something of a ritual at this point, John’s work would call, tell him they’d cancel his appointments and you guys would have a day inside with not much else to do. So you took solace and started camping. Kettle on, brain off. 

You looked out the window halfheartedly, snow braced the horizon, usually it was worse - maybe it was the fact that last time - no year - had left you frozen in for two days with nothing but John’s rambling and intermittent radio signals. At first it was awful snow in October was never right in your mind especially in wherever you’re from again. But now however many years you had lived here, it had become somewhat embraced by you and your husband. 

You heard the phone gently placed back on the receiver as John entered the room, a content sigh fell from him. 

“So Amberpoint tradition, checklist. No work, tick.  Haven’t bothered to check the radio yet, so 50/50 and judging by the snow. No people for give or take but roughly 24 hours,” he wrapped his arms around you and placed a quiet but appreciative kiss on your forehead. And almost as soon as he had said it a knock disrupted the quiet day you had built for yourself. Laughter. 

Bee and Gus stood in the entryway shivering in a way akin to leaves, or something else that shivers. You welcomed them in, seemingly producing mugs of tea from nowhere. They graciously accepted taking up space on your sofa, heat clearly being appreciated. 

“Sorry we had nowhere else to turn, we aren’t used to the weather you see.” Bee rambled between sips “I thought, ah yes, number 11 will know what to do and Gus said we shouldn’t bother you, but I knew you’d be able to help.” Smile sitting there. Saccharine. You agreed seemingly involuntarily, like you felt the force through your body move your head before you’d even registered the question. Unequivocally, you would’ve said yes always. Helping people is what you do. Maybe it showed on your face. Something wasn’t right. 

“Y/N are you quite alright?” Gus asked seemingly as if he’d caught you out on a joke you had no idea of.

The words came to you suddenly, like divine intervention or a script cue you’d suddenly remembered. “Ah yes of course. Doors are always open for you, well at least I’d hope not or all the snow would get in,” your own laughter punctuated the sentence. That wasn’t your laughter. You’d heard it thousands of times. Even John frowned at the noise. No, this was it, what are you talking about? The look melted away, but the snow wouldn’t.

At some point through the snow day you’d resorted to games as the snow piled higher and higher. Charades was the game you’d decided would work. Simple, easy, no hosting, no fuss. Bee stood up, hands wildly gesturing, John and Gus throwing their answers in by the handful, which only caused Bee to keep forming the shapes with her hands but somehow more manically, a joking frustration forming on her face. A film title slipped from your mouth, the words tumbled out your felt your mouth form the sound almost involuntarily. It was garbled to your eardrums, it was like the sound was there and then it seemingly wasn’t. Static on the radio. Scratch on a record. A glitch on the screen.The world seemed to freeze in a way. You’d dragged the Doctor, John, to see that film, virtually begging him. He begrudgingly came along sort of, he sat in the cinema mumbling about how this character was an alien- no that one definitely was, the space travel was inaccurate or that historical thing actually didn’t happen like that and I would know because- the memory was cut short, the cold glare of Gus replacing it staring deep within your soul- something was wrong. He mumbled something, you couldn’t quite make out from the weird static that filled your ears.

The room swung back into you, head lightly slamming forward against the force of something, eyes shooting open. Laughter ensued, everything is fine, isn’t it? Another answer fell from your mouth - The correct one - with a smile, the same one Bee always seemed to give, it was met with a roar of a cheer from Bee excited she finally got to sit down, rather than manically gesturing in hopes that someone would guess something it was clear no-one was going to understand anyway. 

It was well into the evening by now, a small hearty dinner simmering away on the stove, you and Bee sat on the kitchen floor, backs against the kitchen cabinets, discussing old memories.

“I literally bumped into John, that's how I met him,” You giggled between sips of wine, like a child on a sugar rush “He was running to somewhere off doing something stupid, and he ran into me, he literally knocked me off my feet and  he pulled me up, said the thing he was doing was so important, so I’d have to come with him so he could ask me out later. I didn’t believe him, obviously, who would- But no he was right, had to save someone’s life, he is a Doctor after all, it’s what he does. But God, he dragged me around for a whole day, my feet were aching by the end of it, just so much running,”

Bee responded with a small, twinkling smile. It was different from the staged one, it felt like a brave act, giggling like a schoolgirl sitting on the kitchen floor in a snowstorm. But for once it felt real, as though there was no question of whether you should be here or not, it just was and that was right,

“Ah well, mine’s nowhere near that fun. We met in the office, worked together for years, he wouldn’t look at me twice, and then one day he just did and something just clicked in him. And he marched up to me and the rest is history,” Fiddling with her ring as she spoke, “It seems like centuries sometimes, and like days others,” At some point she’d stopped laughing and just drifted. Drifted through the sentence. Like silence on the other end of a telephone. It was then you took her in, nothing poised or staged or performed, just her. She was young, younger than you by the looks of things, but the stories she recounted should have made her older, or at least more well travelled. You gently nudged her, light returned almost as quickly as it had gone. 

Soup was distributed amongst the four of you, sitting at the table not too unlike the other day, Was it the other day? The calendar said 1963. No, they're still new to the neighbourhood. They didn’t know about the snow. And that was a common frustration among the neighbours. I’m sure it doesn’t matter. “This is good, darling thank you for making it,” John commented, he must have noticed your inattentiveness, a small look of concern, thoroughly masked under layers and layers of social etiquette. You nodded, mumbled a brief thank you, and squeezed his hand something reserved for gut feelings, it came as almost normally as breathing, this secondary language you’d formed between the two of you.

The meal had finished, plates, everything washed and away. You’d finally dared to crack open the door a fraction as they’d calmed down thoroughly enough to go home. Snow was piled waist height, unmoving. Door slammed shut, try again tomorrow. Gus seemed to freeze at this,then the anger came “This wasn’t what-” He froze again, hyper aware of his actions, he corrected himself, his stance, his demeanour, breakneck speed back to the usual, “This wasn’t what, we expected,” a meak laugh thrown on at the end for good measure. John frowned at this, he’d caught it and his eyes flicked with something unlike him. Something cold, calculating. He saw you and nodded, an indication: Keep calm, keep it together, it said wordlessly.

Sitting at the balcony over your back garden, you both had a moment alone to talk. 

“He’s weird,” You stated, sipping your drink slowly, almost to cover what you’d said.

John stared at you for a moment, almost incredulously, as if he couldn’t actually believe what you’d said, a pit of guilt forming in your stomach.

“He just makes me uneasy, like a tiger, or a bear, or- or a killer whale, or something else weird,” You said wildly gesturing, arms getting flakes of snow on them, as they stretched over the drop. He laughed at you, breaking character just for a moment, “I mean I get it, but we are getting to know them, darling. You’re married to an alien, I highly doubt we’re normal to them,” He chuckled, wrapping his arms protectively around you and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. Married to what? 

“Huh, what did you just say? I must’ve drifted off in that last sentence,” You said, rubbing your eyes like a small child, desperate to stay up past their bedtime, as the sleep hit you like a sudden wave. He took your face in his hands, “I said to a Doctor,” He followed his statement with a loving frown. “How did I get so lucky with you? Feels like someone planned all this in the best way,” He squeezed your body in a tight hug “Get some sleep darling.” 

The dreams didn’t come that night, at least not one felt like a memory. 

You awoke somewhere unfamiliar, a cyan and purple sky flashed above you in a storm, dirt and gravel were uneven underneath your back, and didn’t help you at all when you tried to stand. Wobbling to your feet, you observed around you, John- No, the doctor ran towards you and grabbed your hand, and pulled you with force. Ash was falling as you ran, making it harder to run, burning heat filling your lungs.

“We have to leave now, it isn’t safe.” He pleaded, “Come on! Run!” The sympathies faded quickly and were replaced with rushed panic. You nodded a silent acceptance, knowing you had to leave. This memory is not yours, you know it. You can feel it in your brain it’s wrong, like the pieces of two puzzles have been mixed up together all wrong. The Doctor pulls you along, you reach something resembling a vessel, at least what of it your brain allows you to see, the rest promptly replaced by static, the same static blocking out words in your brain. Where are you? You ask your thoughts, the static response is the same constant buzzing you feel in the back of your mind, wordless, uncaring, uneventful. You stand in what looks like a control room, fighting back tears, and wretches, as the doctor spins around you readying for flight “Y/N, come on! We have to leave. They’re gone- The sentence starts again, scene resetting down to the sparks flying. She's gone, we have to go, now,” He virtually screamed at you, something he never did and always refused to do. You nodded, gulping between tears, before hurrying forwards to press buttons, and help. The last thing you felt was a bumpy take off, desperately clinging to both the railings and your memories. Where am I? . You awoke, gasping for air, a tear fresh on your cheek. 

Bee and Gus left promptly the next day, thousands of thank yous between farewells. The snow had melted mostly, some occasional flakes, falling like the ash in your dream. The static hummed low and slow in your mind. It stopped for a second, a split second, when Bee hugged you. You felt your body run cold, your question had received an answer. You shut the door after they left and made excuses to John as you retreated into your bedroom and sat quietly. The word rolling around your mind like a marble. 

Dead. 

[apples-r-rubbish]

Small Town (11th Doctor x Reader) - Part 2

Summary: It snows in October, an Amberpoint tradition. On this peculiar snow day you find things aren't just cold outside. Count: 2.3k Warnings: unreality, self gaslighting, mentions of death, long gaps between updates A/N: I didn't mean for this to take literally 8 months, but I have a degree now! it is what it is, sorry, I can't promise I will ever update consistently because that's not my style. However, Thank you for all the support of my fics even though I went M.I.A -L <3

MASTERLIST | PART ONE | PART TWO (you are here !)

You were wandering around the TARDIS arm outstretched out gently touching the walls with your fingertips. The ship hummed gently appreciating your company. It had been an overwhelming 36 hours. 

The asylum was cold, wet and frightening. You prided yourself on generally being quite brave, but that place, that cold, dark, wet, place, sucked the energy right out of your soul. A dalek with a heart was not an easy sight, and as the doctor explained it you felt instantly floored.  The horrors you’d seen remained in your mind. At some point you slipped your way down the wall and allowed a few silent tears to slip from your eyes, and a figure came and sat next you and you slowly began to-

No. This wasn’t right. They don’t exist. You made them up. This isn’t real. That didn’t happen. The dream stopped almost as quickly as it had come to you. It was replaced by an intense feeling of loss you couldn’t quite place.

You stirred from your sleep in waves. Slowly, slowly, you rose from your bed. The world was cold. You read the clock. It was 9 am, 27th October. You searched for warmth through the covers and it was ultimately unsuccessful. John must’ve gotten up early. You curled yourself up in bed for a moment longer, bracing yourself for the chill of air that would eventually come. 

You wandered down the stairs now fully dressed. You frowned at your pyjamas, you couldn’t remember getting them. They were a gift, probably. John stood by the landline mumbling something into the phone. There didn’t seem to be a response coming through, but the conversation continued. He seemed to unstiffen when he saw you and mumbled ‘Work’ while scribbling a barely legible chicken scratch-esque note on paper before waving it at you. 

‘Breakfast - in the Kitchen.’ It was something of an Amberpoint oddity, snow days in October. For as long as you’d lived there had always been at least one. It was something of a ritual at this point, John’s work would call, tell him they’d cancel his appointments and you guys would have a day inside with not much else to do. So you took solace and started camping. Kettle on, brain off. 

You looked out the window halfheartedly, snow braced the horizon, usually it was worse - maybe it was the fact that last time - no year - had left you frozen in for two days with nothing but John’s rambling and intermittent radio signals. At first it was awful snow in October was never right in your mind especially in wherever you’re from again. But now however many years you had lived here, it had become somewhat embraced by you and your husband. 

You heard the phone gently placed back on the receiver as John entered the room, a content sigh fell from him. 

“So Amberpoint tradition, checklist. No work, tick.  Haven’t bothered to check the radio yet, so 50/50 and judging by the snow. No people for give or take but roughly 24 hours,” he wrapped his arms around you and placed a quiet but appreciative kiss on your forehead. And almost as soon as he had said it a knock disrupted the quiet day you had built for yourself. Laughter. 

Bee and Gus stood in the entryway shivering in a way akin to leaves, or something else that shivers. You welcomed them in, seemingly producing mugs of tea from nowhere. They graciously accepted taking up space on your sofa, heat clearly being appreciated. 

“Sorry we had nowhere else to turn, we aren’t used to the weather you see.” Bee rambled between sips “I thought, ah yes, number 11 will know what to do and Gus said we shouldn’t bother you, but I knew you’d be able to help.” Smile sitting there. Saccharine. You agreed seemingly involuntarily, like you felt the force through your body move your head before you’d even registered the question. Unequivocally, you would’ve said yes always. Helping people is what you do. Maybe it showed on your face. Something wasn’t right. 

“Y/N are you quite alright?” Gus asked seemingly as if he’d caught you out on a joke you had no idea of.

The words came to you suddenly, like divine intervention or a script cue you’d suddenly remembered. “Ah yes of course. Doors are always open for you, well at least I’d hope not or all the snow would get in,” your own laughter punctuated the sentence. That wasn’t your laughter. You’d heard it thousands of times. Even John frowned at the noise. No, this was it, what are you talking about? The look melted away, but the snow wouldn’t.

At some point through the snow day you’d resorted to games as the snow piled higher and higher. Charades was the game you’d decided would work. Simple, easy, no hosting, no fuss. Bee stood up, hands wildly gesturing, John and Gus throwing their answers in by the handful, which only caused Bee to keep forming the shapes with her hands but somehow more manically, a joking frustration forming on her face. A film title slipped from your mouth, the words tumbled out your felt your mouth form the sound almost involuntarily. It was garbled to your eardrums, it was like the sound was there and then it seemingly wasn’t. Static on the radio. Scratch on a record. A glitch on the screen.The world seemed to freeze in a way. You’d dragged the Doctor, John, to see that film, virtually begging him. He begrudgingly came along sort of, he sat in the cinema mumbling about how this character was an alien- no that one definitely was, the space travel was inaccurate or that historical thing actually didn’t happen like that and I would know because- the memory was cut short, the cold glare of Gus replacing it staring deep within your soul- something was wrong. He mumbled something, you couldn’t quite make out from the weird static that filled your ears.

The room swung back into you, head lightly slamming forward against the force of something, eyes shooting open. Laughter ensued, everything is fine, isn’t it? Another answer fell from your mouth - The correct one - with a smile, the same one Bee always seemed to give, it was met with a roar of a cheer from Bee excited she finally got to sit down, rather than manically gesturing in hopes that someone would guess something it was clear no-one was going to understand anyway. 

It was well into the evening by now, a small hearty dinner simmering away on the stove, you and Bee sat on the kitchen floor, backs against the kitchen cabinets, discussing old memories.

“I literally bumped into John, that's how I met him,” You giggled between sips of wine, like a child on a sugar rush “He was running to somewhere off doing something stupid, and he ran into me, he literally knocked me off my feet and  he pulled me up, said the thing he was doing was so important, so I’d have to come with him so he could ask me out later. I didn’t believe him, obviously, who would- But no he was right, had to save someone’s life, he is a Doctor after all, it’s what he does. But God, he dragged me around for a whole day, my feet were aching by the end of it, just so much running,”

Bee responded with a small, twinkling smile. It was different from the staged one, it felt like a brave act, giggling like a schoolgirl sitting on the kitchen floor in a snowstorm. But for once it felt real, as though there was no question of whether you should be here or not, it just was and that was right,

“Ah well, mine’s nowhere near that fun. We met in the office, worked together for years, he wouldn’t look at me twice, and then one day he just did and something just clicked in him. And he marched up to me and the rest is history,” Fiddling with her ring as she spoke, “It seems like centuries sometimes, and like days others,” At some point she’d stopped laughing and just drifted. Drifted through the sentence. Like silence on the other end of a telephone. It was then you took her in, nothing poised or staged or performed, just her. She was young, younger than you by the looks of things, but the stories she recounted should have made her older, or at least more well travelled. You gently nudged her, light returned almost as quickly as it had gone. 

Soup was distributed amongst the four of you, sitting at the table not too unlike the other day, Was it the other day? The calendar said 1963. No, they're still new to the neighbourhood. They didn’t know about the snow. And that was a common frustration among the neighbours. I’m sure it doesn’t matter. “This is good, darling thank you for making it,” John commented, he must have noticed your inattentiveness, a small look of concern, thoroughly masked under layers and layers of social etiquette. You nodded, mumbled a brief thank you, and squeezed his hand something reserved for gut feelings, it came as almost normally as breathing, this secondary language you’d formed between the two of you.

The meal had finished, plates, everything washed and away. You’d finally dared to crack open the door a fraction as they’d calmed down thoroughly enough to go home. Snow was piled waist height, unmoving. Door slammed shut, try again tomorrow. Gus seemed to freeze at this,then the anger came “This wasn’t what-” He froze again, hyper aware of his actions, he corrected himself, his stance, his demeanour, breakneck speed back to the usual, “This wasn’t what, we expected,” a meak laugh thrown on at the end for good measure. John frowned at this, he’d caught it and his eyes flicked with something unlike him. Something cold, calculating. He saw you and nodded, an indication: Keep calm, keep it together, it said wordlessly.

Sitting at the balcony over your back garden, you both had a moment alone to talk. 

“He’s weird,” You stated, sipping your drink slowly, almost to cover what you’d said.

John stared at you for a moment, almost incredulously, as if he couldn’t actually believe what you’d said, a pit of guilt forming in your stomach.

“He just makes me uneasy, like a tiger, or a bear, or- or a killer whale, or something else weird,” You said wildly gesturing, arms getting flakes of snow on them, as they stretched over the drop. He laughed at you, breaking character just for a moment, “I mean I get it, but we are getting to know them, darling. You’re married to an alien, I highly doubt we’re normal to them,” He chuckled, wrapping his arms protectively around you and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. Married to what? 

“Huh, what did you just say? I must’ve drifted off in that last sentence,” You said, rubbing your eyes like a small child, desperate to stay up past their bedtime, as the sleep hit you like a sudden wave. He took your face in his hands, “I said to a Doctor,” He followed his statement with a loving frown. “How did I get so lucky with you? Feels like someone planned all this in the best way,” He squeezed your body in a tight hug “Get some sleep darling.” 

The dreams didn’t come that night, at least not one felt like a memory. 

You awoke somewhere unfamiliar, a cyan and purple sky flashed above you in a storm, dirt and gravel were uneven underneath your back, and didn’t help you at all when you tried to stand. Wobbling to your feet, you observed around you, John- No, the doctor ran towards you and grabbed your hand, and pulled you with force. Ash was falling as you ran, making it harder to run, burning heat filling your lungs.

“We have to leave now, it isn’t safe.” He pleaded, “Come on! Run!” The sympathies faded quickly and were replaced with rushed panic. You nodded a silent acceptance, knowing you had to leave. This memory is not yours, you know it. You can feel it in your brain it’s wrong, like the pieces of two puzzles have been mixed up together all wrong. The Doctor pulls you along, you reach something resembling a vessel, at least what of it your brain allows you to see, the rest promptly replaced by static, the same static blocking out words in your brain. Where are you? You ask your thoughts, the static response is the same constant buzzing you feel in the back of your mind, wordless, uncaring, uneventful. You stand in what looks like a control room, fighting back tears, and wretches, as the doctor spins around you readying for flight “Y/N, come on! We have to leave. They’re gone- The sentence starts again, scene resetting down to the sparks flying. She's gone, we have to go, now,” He virtually screamed at you, something he never did and always refused to do. You nodded, gulping between tears, before hurrying forwards to press buttons, and help. The last thing you felt was a bumpy take off, desperately clinging to both the railings and your memories. Where am I? . You awoke, gasping for air, a tear fresh on your cheek. 

Bee and Gus left promptly the next day, thousands of thank yous between farewells. The snow had melted mostly, some occasional flakes, falling like the ash in your dream. The static hummed low and slow in your mind. It stopped for a second, a split second, when Bee hugged you. You felt your body run cold, your question had received an answer. You shut the door after they left and made excuses to John as you retreated into your bedroom and sat quietly. The word rolling around your mind like a marble. 

Dead. 

#doctor who self insert #doctor who x reader #doctor who fic #doctor who x you #eleven x reader #eleventh doctor/reader #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor #hope it was worth the wait

[apples-r-rubbish]

Everyone should read their own fanfics recreationally tbh this shit fucking rules. It's like the author knows exactly what I like.

[apples-r-rubbish]

Hurt no comfort 👀??

Hurt No Comfort Dialogue

yikers there's a lot of warnings. heed them. do not add. you are responsible for the media you consume.

WARNINGS: Forced imprisonment. Cheating. Amnesia. Implied murder. Death. Possible implied toxic relationship. Injuries. Breaking up. Cigarettes. Self-destructive tendencies. Alcoholism. Wowie. 

1) “I trusted you.” 

2)“I’m sorry… who are you?” 

3) “Were we friends?” 

4)“Do you even love me?” Imprisonment. Cheating.

5) “What are we now?” 

6) “Damn you.” 

7) “No feelings involved.” 

8) “I never loved you, anyway.” 

9) “You’re nothing but a deceitful bastard!” 

10) “I don’t know you.” 

11) “Erase me from your memory.” 

12) “Understand that I don’t care to know you.” 

13) “Trust you? Hilarious. Tell another joke.” 

14) “Step away from them!” 

15) “I loved you.” 

16) “You broke my heart.” 

17) “Really? You’re cheating on me?” 

18) “You liar.” 

19) “Give one damn reason to not walk out that door!” 

20) “I’m broken. And I don’t intend on being fixed.” 

21) “Naïve little thing, aren’t you?” 

22) “I thought you loved me.” 

23) “If I have to pick me or you, I’m picking you.” 

24) “Take this and run.” 

25) “Forget about me. It’s for the best.” 

26) “They want us to separate. I’m sorry.” 

27) “We’re terrible together.” 

28) “I thought that I could learn to love you.” 

29) “Did our love mean anything?”

30) “I just want what’s best for you.” 

31) “Liar. Don’t even try.” 

32) “I know I won’t make it.” 

33) “Tonight is the last one.” 

34) “Pretend for one minute that we’re in love, and then kiss me. One last time.” 

35) “I’m keeping you safe.” 

36) “You’re hurting me.” 

37) “This is killing me.” 

38) “This is safe?” 

39) “Feelings make things complicated.” 

40) “They’re dead.” 

41) “I can’t find them.” 

42) “What did you do with them?” 

43) “You’re shaking.”

44) “I can’t breathe.” 

45) “This isn’t home anymore.” 

46) “I’m running away.” 

47) “I can’t take this.” 

48) “Don’t… don’t leave me.” 

49) “I can’t lose you too.” 

50) “Everyone is hurting me. Can’t you see?” 

51) “I’d burn the world for you.” 

52) “You never cared about me.” 

53) “Promise me this.” 

54) “I can’t stand how you’re fighting this alone.” 

55) “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

56) “Were you going to keep this a secret the whole time?” 

57) “I thought we didn’t keep secrets.” 

58) “I’m feeling a lot less like your spouse, and more of a convenient thing.” 

59) “Look at me, tell me that you love me.” 

60) “There’s only so much I can take.” 

61) “You’re leaving, again.” 

62) “I’m not who you think I am.” 

63) “You can’t fix me.” 

64) “I can’t pretend that things are okay anymore.” 

65)“Leave.”

66) “Don’t come back here again.” 

67) “I’m changing my locks.” 

68) “Give me my things, and then I’m gone.” 

69) “You’ve changed.” 

70) “I don’t like who you’ve become.” 

71) “Stop believing in them.” 

72) “Do you really think that I don’t know?” 

73) “This marriage is pointless.” 

74) “I want a divorce.” 

75) “I hate you.” 

76) “You’re nothing to me.” 

77) “I’m going to sleep on the couch.” 

78) “We need a break.” 

79) “Don’t come looking for me.” 

80) “You need to get yourself together, or there’s no more us.” 

81) “It takes two to make a marriage work, you know.” 

82) “I don’t want to talk to you.” 

83) “Leave me alone.” 

84) “Papers are on the table.” 

85) “Give me your ring.” 

86) “I just want to go home.” 

87) “You’re scaring me.” 

88) “Don’t go to bed angry.” 

89) “Are you hurt?” 

90) “Is that blood?” 

91) “What happened to you?” 

92) “Who hurt you?” 

93) “You’re limping.” 

94) “Sit down. Now.” 

95) “Why aren’t you sleeping anymore?” 

96) “Where do you go during the night?” 

97) “Do you think I don’t feel you slipping out of bed?” 

98) “Show me.” 

99) “I refuse to just sit back and watch you be hurt!” 

100) “You’re killing yourself little by little.” 

101) “Put down the bottle.” 

102) “Don’t light that cigarette.” 

103) “We’re breaking up.” 

104) “You hurt them. Why?” 

105) “They did nothing to you!” 

[apples-r-rubbish]

Small Town (11th Doctor x Reader) - Part 1

Summary: What goes on in a small town has to stay in a small town. You and the Doctor check out a small town and now you can't leave. Count: 2k Warnings: unreality, self gaslighting A/N: Maybe if i post this I can bully myself into finishing it lmao who knows? -L

“So we’re investigating today?” You questioned as you walked into the console room, seeing it was set up in a way so the doctor could stare at most of the controls and look at the monitor intensely through his glasses, as he mumbled something about the information he was examining.

“Yes we are, just trying to get the exact coordinates, time gets weird around here, some kind of temporal anomaly” The Doctor grumbled, pointing vaguely at the monitor before adjusting a few more dials and switches, “I think I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, throwing off his glasses and running to the TARDIS doors and flinging them open. You trailed behind, wrapping a jacket around your arms to protect from the potential cold. You were above a small town, somewhere in America if you had to guess, but all the states blurred together and high up, cities always looked vaguely similar. Suspended you both stood, watching the world tick by.

“So, what we do know,” The Doctor began, staring out over the oblivious world, “there was town, gone for close to a month, no contact in or out excluding military communications. Weird energy signatures, freak weather, electromagnetic pulses, nightmares and weird happenings. And one day it stopped. Some say it was a witch, others say some weird government test and a handful even say aliens. So we’re going to find out, and try and help,” He smiled the last part

“That's what we do,” You returned the smile.

After a while of watching and waiting out of the corner of your eye you spotted it, a massive red and black pulse. Electrical? No it couldn’t be. It looked fierce and magical, but nothing like the fairytale magic in the books you read as a child.

“There!” You almost shouted, pointing. It wasn’t slowing down. It was speeding up. 

“Hold on to something! Keep a lookout” You heard the doctor shout, as he ran back to the machine, punching random buttons and flicking random switches in an attempt to hold the ship in place, despite it already shifting under the weight of the barrier edging closer

“It’s not slowing down” You almost screamed from the door, clinging to the handrails in desperation

“I know, I wasn’t trying to slow it, I was trying to keep us from moving but it's too strong. Who knows where we’ll end up or what’ll happen,” He pressed more buttons in a futile attempt, before giving up and racing towards you, “Better we face it together,” He smiled, grabbing your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

You squeezed his hand almost like a sign you were ready “Together,”

And with that you both stepped from the ship, falling into the pulse. 

Your eyes snapped open. Another bad dream, you always woke up before you hit the floor. They’d been happening frequently and showed no sign of stopping, perhaps one day you’d realise what had happened as the floor came closer. Your husband snored gently next to you, his sharp chin pressed into your forehead. The clock next to you read 7:30, 25rd October 1954 , that meant for you it was time to wake up and get some breakfast ready. You appeared downstairs and started cooking, seemingly it was done almost as quick as it had begun, at least you were getting quicker you thought to yourself. Your husband, John, came down the stairs fully dressed for work muttering something about the car having issues, and needing to get some circuit in it fixed. “Thank you for the meal, my love,” John thanked as he adjusted his bowtie and took a sip of his freshly-made drink. You didn’t remember making it. You frowned and he saw it.

“How’s your head?” He asked noticing

“Well, I haven’t had any complaints,” You giggled, And that’s when you heard it. Laughter. It wasn’t even that funny. Canned laughter. Studio audience level laughter. You didn’t even think it was a funny joke. There was a pause for it to die down. 

“Darling I think we should invite that new couple that moved in,” He pondered aloud “I just think it would be nice, new neighbours make some friends,”

“Yeah I mean we have been living here… living here, how long?” You asked rhetorically at first but at one point or another during the sentence you realised you didn’t actually have an answer. More laughter. 

“Well, you know… you know,” John said, wandering through the sentence, fiddling with his bowtie of choice for the day, clearly as unsure as you were “you know what? I’m going to be late for work,” He stood up quickly staring at his watch, finishing the final bite of his breakfast. 

“Have a good day at work, my love,” you shouted to him, as you heard the door swing shut. He was a Doctor, local hospital, taking care of people was always something he prioritised. Long days and long nights were common, time seeming to slip away from you both. Clocks never seemed right, some too fast, others too slow. You were at your own pace and it was a familiar and comforting feeling. 

At some point during the day you found yourself in the park. Something felt off. Not alarmingly, not a gut punching sense of anxiety, just out of place. The Sun seemed too bright for the time of day maybe. 

What time was it again? 2pm. But that couldn’t be right, you’d left the house at half 11, seemingly 20 minutes ago. You chalked it up to being lost in your reading, a mere quirk of habit. As you examined it, the pages were empty, void of information. Looking up assuming it was some trick of your half asleep mind you shook your head, as the words shifted back onto the page with a breakneck speed. You spotted your new neighbours from across the park, you collected your things and sauntered over. They were talking about something you couldn’t quite make out when you gave them a wave and they stopped, smiled and welcomed you into the conversation. The laughter rang again, this time it seemingly felt normal, a quiet comfort in the almost now familiar situation.

 “Hi my name’s Y/N, I noticed you moved in about a week ago, on our street. My Husband and I live at number 11,” You explained with a smile.

“Oh Hi! This is Augustus and I’m Elizbeth, Bee for short,” He smile was warm and welcoming. She was a relatively small woman, long blonde hair curled in whichever way it pleased, her eyes were a soft blue colour almost matching the sky. 

“I hate it when you use my full name, I prefer Gus,” The man rolled his eyes jokingly before extending his hand out to you which you shook. You briefly chatted about your time in the neighbourhood, and your husband.  Gus and Bee were invited to dinner at your house that evening. 

As you wandered the streets of Amberpoint, the world seemed to still. It was a quiet comfort, and when the light hit the glass just right, it lived up to its name. You reflected on your life, your travels and how it felt like you were travelling to distant worlds sometimes, and maybe in a way you were. Amberpoint was small, no more than 5,000. Hundreds of matching brickwork houses, how had you ended up here? Settling for suburbia never sat in your plans, but as you thought through scatters of memories, maybe it didn’t matter, maybe you just were supposed to be there. Maybe sometimes you end up where you need to be by accident.

Your home was uncharacteristically silent.  A cautionary hello was shouted by. A non-committal noise sounded from the garage. There John was sat tinkering with some gadget, screwdrivers and  tiny spanners, thrown in by the handful for good measure. 

“How was work dear?” You asked, not daring to question the smoke now gently leaking from the item. 

“Fine, empty office today, they let me come home early, no appointments other than Mr Reed’s eyes and you know how those go,”

You didn’t, but coughed up a half laugh anyway. “That couple from 17 are coming over tonight, like you suggested so please keep your gadgets and gizmos away from dinner,” You frowned, turning on your heel and exiting the room. Cue laughter. 

Dinner prep was relatively easy, you’d fought monsters on other planets, with nothing but a sonic screwdriver and a blue box. No. No, you hadn’t. You’d fought hard against Mandy Cunningham for those test scores in your exams even with that broken arm, how hard could meal prep for four people go. They arrived and took their seats. Bee smiled and offered you a hand in the kitchen so John and Gus could get to know each other. Bee seemed to smile in a way you hadn’t imagined a person could. It was bright, and seemed almost like it could be turned on and off like a tap. Like a command, or a magic trick. Her hair fell down to her hips, it never seemed out of place, even with the length, not a tangle in sight. Her dress was yellow, at some point through the cooking she’d informed you it was her favourite colour, with a joke about honey bees. That stage smile, taking front and centre. 

The meal was going well, not that it wouldn’t have. But in the light of your dining room you noticed how pale Gus looked, almost sickly, light sweat brushed his forehead. Your husband had noticed “You alright old chap?” Your husband said to him at one point

“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine, never better,” He hummed in between bites of  food. And despite your insistence and wanting to feel normal around your neighbours, John got up and wandered over to the garage and pulled out one of his contraptions from an old box of his. “So this should help stabilise the headache you’re no good at hiding. I am a Doctor after all,” He mumbled to Gus. John flicked a switch and waited, a loud sound poured from the machine and the world seemed to shift slightly. Like the reminder that the world is on an axis. A gut feeling that the world is not wholly the way you perceive it. A rush of memories and feeling flashed for a brief second before retreating, seemingly as if it hadn’t happened at all. Fleeing anytime you decided to cling to them, as the machine collapsed into cartoon-like pieces. You blinked and with that the memories had never happened. What were you thinking about again?

“Hm,” John frowned “That shouldn’t have happened,”

“John fancies himself as somewhat of an inventor, because apparently saving people’s lives isn’t enough to cram into 24 hours,” You explained with a nervous laugh and a few apologies thrown in.

The remainder of dinner passed relatively uneventfully. Simple small talk, how long you’d lived there John pulling a number from thin air. They left with a hug and smile. You and your husband collapsed on the sofa, worn out from the day. 

“So dinner parties, hey, we don’t do too badly,” He smiled wrapping his arm around you

“I think everything considered we did pretty well,” You laughed and lent in to press a gentle kiss to his lips, he hesitated slightly before leaning in and brushing his lips against yours with a gentle smile. 

“So what do we do now dear?” He laughed staring at the mess on the table

“Leave it for tomorrow,” you chuckled, screwing your eyes shut thinking about the amount of work it would be between you “I’m tired.”

And with that you both retreated to bed for the night to collapse into another dream filled sleep. Or maybe you would wake up in reality. Maybe it didn’t matter which way around it was. And as Amberpoint fell asleep, something ticked over. Maybe nothing sinister, but perhaps a quiet solumness filled the sleep-ridden air. 

[apples-r-rubbish]

Small Town (11th Doctor x Reader) - Part 1

Summary: What goes on in a small town has to stay in a small town. You and the Doctor check out a small town and now you can't leave. Count: 2k Warnings: unreality, self gaslighting A/N: Maybe if i post this I can bully myself into finishing it lmao who knows? -L

MASTERLIST | PART ONE (you are here !) | PART TWO

“So we’re investigating today?” You questioned as you walked into the console room, seeing it was set up in a way so the doctor could stare at most of the controls and look at the monitor intensely through his glasses, as he mumbled something about the information he was examining.

“Yes we are, just trying to get the exact coordinates, time gets weird around here, some kind of temporal anomaly” The Doctor grumbled, pointing vaguely at the monitor before adjusting a few more dials and switches, “I think I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, throwing off his glasses and running to the TARDIS doors and flinging them open. You trailed behind, wrapping a jacket around your arms to protect from the potential cold. You were above a small town, somewhere in America if you had to guess, but all the states blurred together and high up, cities always looked vaguely similar. Suspended you both stood, watching the world tick by.

“So, what we do know,” The Doctor began, staring out over the oblivious world, “there was town, gone for close to a month, no contact in or out excluding military communications. Weird energy signatures, freak weather, electromagnetic pulses, nightmares and weird happenings. And one day it stopped. Some say it was a witch, others say some weird government test and a handful even say aliens. So we’re going to find out, and try and help,” He smiled the last part

“That's what we do,” You returned the smile.

After a while of watching and waiting out of the corner of your eye you spotted it, a massive red and black pulse. Electrical? No it couldn’t be. It looked fierce and magical, but nothing like the fairytale magic in the books you read as a child.

“There!” You almost shouted, pointing. It wasn’t slowing down. It was speeding up. 

“Hold on to something! Keep a lookout” You heard the doctor shout, as he ran back to the machine, punching random buttons and flicking random switches in an attempt to hold the ship in place, despite it already shifting under the weight of the barrier edging closer

“It’s not slowing down” You almost screamed from the door, clinging to the handrails in desperation

“I know, I wasn’t trying to slow it, I was trying to keep us from moving but it's too strong. Who knows where we’ll end up or what’ll happen,” He pressed more buttons in a futile attempt, before giving up and racing towards you, “Better we face it together,” He smiled, grabbing your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

You squeezed his hand almost like a sign you were ready “Together,”

And with that you both stepped from the ship, falling into the pulse. 

Your eyes snapped open. Another bad dream, you always woke up before you hit the floor. They’d been happening frequently and showed no sign of stopping, perhaps one day you’d realise what had happened as the floor came closer. Your husband snored gently next to you, his sharp chin pressed into your forehead. The clock next to you read 7:30, 25rd October 1954 , that meant for you it was time to wake up and get some breakfast ready. You appeared downstairs and started cooking, seemingly it was done almost as quick as it had begun, at least you were getting quicker you thought to yourself. Your husband, John, came down the stairs fully dressed for work muttering something about the car having issues, and needing to get some circuit in it fixed. “Thank you for the meal, my love,” John thanked as he adjusted his bowtie and took a sip of his freshly-made drink. You didn’t remember making it. You frowned and he saw it.

“How’s your head?” He asked noticing

“Well, I haven’t had any complaints,” You giggled, And that’s when you heard it. Laughter. It wasn’t even that funny. Canned laughter. Studio audience level laughter. You didn’t even think it was a funny joke. There was a pause for it to die down. 

“Darling I think we should invite that new couple that moved in,” He pondered aloud “I just think it would be nice, new neighbours make some friends,”

“Yeah I mean we have been living here… living here, how long?” You asked rhetorically at first but at one point or another during the sentence you realised you didn’t actually have an answer. More laughter. 

“Well, you know… you know,” John said, wandering through the sentence, fiddling with his bowtie of choice for the day, clearly as unsure as you were “you know what? I’m going to be late for work,” He stood up quickly staring at his watch, finishing the final bite of his breakfast. 

“Have a good day at work, my love,” you shouted to him, as you heard the door swing shut. He was a Doctor, local hospital, taking care of people was always something he prioritised. Long days and long nights were common, time seeming to slip away from you both. Clocks never seemed right, some too fast, others too slow. You were at your own pace and it was a familiar and comforting feeling. 

At some point during the day you found yourself in the park. Something felt off. Not alarmingly, not a gut punching sense of anxiety, just out of place. The Sun seemed too bright for the time of day maybe. 

What time was it again? 2pm. But that couldn’t be right, you’d left the house at half 11, seemingly 20 minutes ago. You chalked it up to being lost in your reading, a mere quirk of habit. As you examined it, the pages were empty, void of information. Looking up assuming it was some trick of your half asleep mind you shook your head, as the words shifted back onto the page with a breakneck speed. You spotted your new neighbours from across the park, you collected your things and sauntered over. They were talking about something you couldn’t quite make out when you gave them a wave and they stopped, smiled and welcomed you into the conversation. The laughter rang again, this time it seemingly felt normal, a quiet comfort in the almost now familiar situation.

 “Hi my name’s Y/N, I noticed you moved in about a week ago, on our street. My Husband and I live at number 11,” You explained with a smile.

“Oh Hi! This is Augustus and I’m Elizbeth, Bee for short,” He smile was warm and welcoming. She was a relatively small woman, long blonde hair curled in whichever way it pleased, her eyes were a soft blue colour almost matching the sky. 

“I hate it when you use my full name, I prefer Gus,” The man rolled his eyes jokingly before extending his hand out to you which you shook. You briefly chatted about your time in the neighbourhood, and your husband.  Gus and Bee were invited to dinner at your house that evening. 

As you wandered the streets of Amberpoint, the world seemed to still. It was a quiet comfort, and when the light hit the glass just right, it lived up to its name. You reflected on your life, your travels and how it felt like you were travelling to distant worlds sometimes, and maybe in a way you were. Amberpoint was small, no more than 5,000. Hundreds of matching brickwork houses, how had you ended up here? Settling for suburbia never sat in your plans, but as you thought through scatters of memories, maybe it didn’t matter, maybe you just were supposed to be there. Maybe sometimes you end up where you need to be by accident.

Your home was uncharacteristically silent.  A cautionary hello was shouted by. A non-committal noise sounded from the garage. There John was sat tinkering with some gadget, screwdrivers and  tiny spanners, thrown in by the handful for good measure. 

“How was work dear?” You asked, not daring to question the smoke now gently leaking from the item. 

“Fine, empty office today, they let me come home early, no appointments other than Mr Reed’s eyes and you know how those go,”

You didn’t, but coughed up a half laugh anyway. “That couple from 17 are coming over tonight, like you suggested so please keep your gadgets and gizmos away from dinner,” You frowned, turning on your heel and exiting the room. Cue laughter. 

Dinner prep was relatively easy, you’d fought monsters on other planets, with nothing but a sonic screwdriver and a blue box. No. No, you hadn’t. You’d fought hard against Mandy Cunningham for those test scores in your exams even with that broken arm, how hard could meal prep for four people go. They arrived and took their seats. Bee smiled and offered you a hand in the kitchen so John and Gus could get to know each other. Bee seemed to smile in a way you hadn’t imagined a person could. It was bright, and seemed almost like it could be turned on and off like a tap. Like a command, or a magic trick. Her hair fell down to her hips, it never seemed out of place, even with the length, not a tangle in sight. Her dress was yellow, at some point through the cooking she’d informed you it was her favourite colour, with a joke about honey bees. That stage smile, taking front and centre. 

The meal was going well, not that it wouldn’t have. But in the light of your dining room you noticed how pale Gus looked, almost sickly, light sweat brushed his forehead. Your husband had noticed “You alright old chap?” Your husband said to him at one point

“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine, never better,” He hummed in between bites of  food. And despite your insistence and wanting to feel normal around your neighbours, John got up and wandered over to the garage and pulled out one of his contraptions from an old box of his. “So this should help stabilise the headache you’re no good at hiding. I am a Doctor after all,” He mumbled to Gus. John flicked a switch and waited, a loud sound poured from the machine and the world seemed to shift slightly. Like the reminder that the world is on an axis. A gut feeling that the world is not wholly the way you perceive it. A rush of memories and feeling flashed for a brief second before retreating, seemingly as if it hadn’t happened at all. Fleeing anytime you decided to cling to them, as the machine collapsed into cartoon-like pieces. You blinked and with that the memories had never happened. What were you thinking about again?

“Hm,” John frowned “That shouldn’t have happened,”

“John fancies himself as somewhat of an inventor, because apparently saving people’s lives isn’t enough to cram into 24 hours,” You explained with a nervous laugh and a few apologies thrown in.

The remainder of dinner passed relatively uneventfully. Simple small talk, how long you’d lived there John pulling a number from thin air. They left with a hug and smile. You and your husband collapsed on the sofa, worn out from the day. 

“So dinner parties, hey, we don’t do too badly,” He smiled wrapping his arm around you

“I think everything considered we did pretty well,” You laughed and lent in to press a gentle kiss to his lips, he hesitated slightly before leaning in and brushing his lips against yours with a gentle smile. 

“So what do we do now dear?” He laughed staring at the mess on the table

“Leave it for tomorrow,” you chuckled, screwing your eyes shut thinking about the amount of work it would be between you “I’m tired.”

And with that you both retreated to bed for the night to collapse into another dream filled sleep. Or maybe you would wake up in reality. Maybe it didn’t matter which way around it was. And as Amberpoint fell asleep, something ticked over. Maybe nothing sinister, but perhaps a quiet solumness filled the sleep-ridden air. 

#11th doctor x reader #11th doctor #11th doctor x you #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x you #doctor who self insert #the doctor x reader #the doctor x you #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #self insert doctor who #self insert fanfiction

[apples-r-rubbish]

No because genuinely same

Thoughts on The Boys so far…

Butcher is a cunt and I want to smack him

Solider Boy is also a cunt and I want to smack him

In other news I’ve finally got round to watching Buffy (yeah, I’m 25 and I’ve never watch Buffy before sue me) and I’m kind of in love with Giles…

#he’s a dil.f

[apples-r-rubbish]

Just so y’all know: I can’t speak for every other fic author but I can say that I remember when people leave me kind comments. I recognize your urls and/or usernames on AO3. I remember you and sometimes in writing my fics I think to myself, “Oh, I hope this person sees this because they liked x in this other fic I did.”

Not only that—I go back and reread comments when I’m feeling low. I look at tags and reblogs and asks and wish I could hold them in my hand like a note from a friend on an old, torn piece of notebook paper.

Your comments have so much more impact than you know. So thanks to those who use the comment section to spread love and encouragement. We appreciate you.

[apples-r-rubbish]

Yesterdays and Tomorrows (11th Doctor x Reader)

Summary: The Doctor has to let you go and maybe he can’t Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: lowkey dark!eleventh doctor, death, minor ooc moments A/N: :o) i literally barely use this site anymore but am getting back into writing :o) -L

The TARDIS grumpily wheezed against the control of its owner. The bowtie wearing alien huffed as he stepped out - no this wasn’t right. The Doctor hadn’t dropped you off here. Maybe you’d moved, he thought, but you’d tell him, ask for help the way that friends do. Wincing at your last memories in the TARDIS before you left for a week or two or a month or, however, you’d phrased it.

“I mean of course I have feelings for you, how could I not?” You groaned in frustration at his alien understanding of things as you rubbed your temples, finally hitting breaking point. 

“I- I don’t understand what you mean?”

“I can’t with you. You pick us at random, show us possibilities and realities we could never understand, a new way to be. Something that people tell stories of and then throw us into dangerous situations and save the day. How can you not see that? How could you never understand that? You show us a new way of living and give us a best friend with a taxi to all of time and space, who picks the body of a young man and always saves the day with an added sense of self righteousness.”

“Well it’s just so human of you-” He began

You scowled and cut him off. “Look if you’re going to make passing comments about my species just take me home, give me a week or two to cool off, possibly a month even. And you can mope about in your TARDIS like you do when you’re alone.” You had said it and immediately regretted it. You weren’t angry, you were just tired and frustrated and it felt like you were in a fight you couldn’t win and it was overwhelming. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, he’d seemingly shrunk into himself, like he’d never expected that from you, one of his closest friends. 

“Yes.” You answered ‘No’ you thought. Of course you weren’t, but you’d dug your heels in like a tantruming child, you couldn’t back out. Operating the machine with an added sense of slowness he fiddled with the machine mumbling something about dates and times and accuracy. Time moved so slowly, like the final moments of something was happening and neither of you quite knew what it was. And with that, before he could comprehend it you were gone.

It had taken him 2 days to realise he had loved you, how could he not. He’d practically ran to the console, throwing in the co-ordinates, even in a time machine it seemed too slow for him. And then he saw the view. A house in the dead of night, and he winced, but something within that alien made him take cautious steps towards the house, as if he needed to be there. His fist tapped gently against the back door and he was met with no response. He soniced the lock, and opened the door in one swift motion. He shouted your name, desperate to find you in the darkness, he needed to find you and he needed to tell you. You responded from upstairs within the house. Only fixed on you, he found you. And then his heart stopped, he was too late. You sat there in bed wrapped in an old blanket, age clear on your face. You looked roughly 80, wrinkles clear on your face. He’d abandoned you. Guilt hit him like a wave as he found it hard to stand, he knew it was you, your face still clear in his mind. He didn’t quite know how to handle it, the sudden rush of emotions, as tears poked through his surprised face.

“Hello you, thought you’d show up one day,” there was a twinge of a laugh in your voice, it wasn’t bitter or unkind even, it was as if you were joking about something he’d not quite caught onto yet

“Hello,” He barely spoke, a sob caught in the word. You shifted in the bed and wordlessly gestured to the seat next to you.

“How- How long has it been?” The Doctor finally asked, pulling the chair closer to the bed gently taking your hand

“Well, I’m in my 90s if that paints a picture,” You chuckled, gripping his hand back, an anchor within the dead of night.

“I’m sorry-” he began, picking his words carefully

“Don’t be, I had a life, I lived. Got married, had children; Grandchildren even. I was happy, I had happiness even without the aliens, and the running did eventually help my joints.”

He gave a hollow chuckle at the joke, and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“When genuinely was the last time you saw me?” 

You frowned at his question “That argument, I didn’t want to leave. I was childish and dug my heels in. I thought you hated me, thought I’d overstepped a line, the days passed and then the weeks, the months, years, decades. After year two I realised you weren’t coming back, and at that point I’d made my peace with it. I’d stopped waiting everyday, did give far too many police boxes a hard stare or two, though. I realised that even if you’d overshot the landing, which I’m assuming you did, I couldn’t leave; my family and friends, my husband, it was too much.”

“So where is he then?” bitterness creeped into the edges of his words

“I think you know,” You frowned, he hadn’t aged to you it was like seeing a ghost “Time waits for no man, apart from you Timelord. I think it’s beginning to catch me up too.” You had shifted your gaze from him onto the window, no light pollution for miles, simply a forest and stars. Oh how you missed them, but you had found your own.

“I could go back, find a way- find a way to- stop it- stop all of this- we can keep travelling and we can make this work- we can-” And there he was, the oncoming storm bargaining his way out of time.

“Don’t you dare,” Anger rising in your voice “Don’t you dare, sacrifice my yesterdays for your tomorrows. Do not take my children, my family, my life, because you can’t handle another death on your conscience. Another soul to carry with you. My life is and was my own, Timelord. That’s too much power, even for you.”

He froze for a moment, realising what he had said, what he had attempted to bargain it all away. You saw the change in his demeanour and softened, “Of course, it hadn’t occurred to you that rewriting time would change lives for the worst,” 

“I- I’m sorry, I hadn’t considered it,” tears threatened to slip from his eyes “I just want more time with you.”  

“I know and sometimes, we don’t get that,” You answered. You turned away from him and pulled a notebook  out of a draw and presented it in his hands. He held it for a moment examining it, running a bony finger along the gold edged paper he had given to you roughly a year ago. Now it sat in his hands, aged and faded the wood carving glistened due to the years of wear and tear. 

“You gave me that when I was younger, a modified notebook, a trickery of time lord technology, a never ending notebook.  I had picked out from a market on Thelea, or possibly Vurus. Time has passed me by, memories are hard to cling on to. They’re fleeting, like breath on a mirror, I’m not as young as I once was. I wrote my life, in that notebook, the long gone memories of space travel and the life I had with my husband. From bookend to bookend this is my life, written page after page, fixed history,” He looked down at the book, the anger once again being replaced by sadness. 

“I want you to have it,” You had said, a gentle grip slipping from the book. 

“I can’t- I can’t take this your family need this-” He rambled final cogs clicking into place

“They will understand, they grew up with it, they knew who it would eventually go to and they were told what to do in the eventuality of you returning after what must come next,” 

He frowned at that and thanked you for the gift, and slipped it into one of his infinite jacket pockets. He had shifted uncomfortably, realising the gravity of the situation.

“Well you can tell me some of it in person first if you’d like,” a teary smile framing his face. You smiled, chuckling to yourself “Well, I’d like a cup of tea first, I would offer to make one however, my arm has gone to sleep and my joints aren’t what they used to be. Kitchen’s downstairs to the left. I assume you’ll be able to find everything you need,” 

He stood up and wandered down the stairs, looking at old photographs of you, all captured memories from long forgotten times. Seemingly lifetimes from you and moments from him, the two realities bleeding together. A life you lived in between him. He found the kitchen, and rooted around for some tea, careful to leave everything the way it was, not wanting to leave more work for your elderly body. He let out a few silent tears in the night lit kitchen, his walls had finally dropped. Adjusting his bowtie, he trudged back up the stairs, two mugs in hand. You had fallen asleep in the time he’d been gone, smiling quietly to himself, he placed the mug on the bedside table beside a photo of you and your husband. A sinking realisation had hit him the moment he’d pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. You had slipped away and he missed it. Another thing he’d missed. 

The Doctor stayed for a while, by the time he had left the house in the morning, the sun had come up, casting the frosty morning in a bright white light, his red eyes struggling to adjust to the sun. It felt wrong that life had seemingly continued without you, like it wasn’t right, like it should’ve stopped in the dead of night in that room; and in a way, to the Doctor it had. The TARDIS welcomed him with a warm hum, “You have nothing to say to me, nothing at all,” He hissed at the ship “You couldn’t even land correctly, if you cared about seeing me happy, you would’ve given me a chance. You would’ve- You would’ve- I would’ve- I lost them,” He slipped down the door head in hands sobbing. He pulled out the diary, staring at it. He gently opened it. He had seen the occasional scribble of his own handwriting in the earlier pages, notes for you to stumble upon or the times he’d tried to teach you gallifreyan, to which you’d copied, scrawls and scrawls of circles littering dozens of pages. He’d found the beginning of your diary, you rambling about your anger and your feelings, and how you didn’t want to leave. He skipped forward more pages, the anger you had felt over being abandoned, the resentment. Eventually he read about you finding love, the romance with one of your work colleagues, Danny, and the life you’d led the children you’d had, all the stories of them growing, followed by the untimely death of your husband. Car accident. How the doctor wept for you, and your long gone stories. He imagined himself, taking care of your children, watching you grow old. But it wasn’t him, it was some other man. He found the last page you had written him a note.

Do not lose hope, my weary doctor. I was happy, I lived happy, as you should be, I was grateful for the memories we had. Keep running and we will meet again, I know it. 

The Timelord pulled himself on to his feet, bargaining setting in. You had told him to not go back. And he knew he shouldn’t.  The look in your eyes when you urged him to leave your timeline alone haunted him. He shouldn’t, dear god he shouldn’t. But all he could see was the grief you’d endure, the death of your husband, the grief your family would face. He’d already let you go once, could he really let you go again? He’d changed time before but never like this. Never when you’d explicitly told him he shouldn’t. But he couldn’t let go, let you live that other life as a different person, with another man. The TARDIS shook against his control, trying to pull him back to reason, it only fueled him further. Enveloping him in his own frustration, grief and madness.  The ship landed, somehow aggressively, still attempting to fight against the Doctor. He opened the doors to the more familiar setting, the street corner across from your apartment complex.  His legs couldn’t carry him fast enough, he almost put his fist through your door knocking so aggressively. Eventually, you opened it staring at him confused, you looked like you again, not the weary elderly person sitting in the bed.  Sobbing he embraced you, as your confused self reciprocated, telling him everything would be ok and that it’d only been a few hours and you’d regretted your harsh words during the fight, that you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

As he looked out of your kitchen window in the early hours of the morning, the Doctor vowed he would alter time again and again if necessary, fixed points would never be a problem again. Reality was his to shape and he would be damned before he let you go again.

#11th doctor x reader #11th Doctor #11th doctor x you #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor/reader #eleventh doctor x reader #eleven #eleven x reader #Doctor Who fanfic #doctor who

[apples-r-rubbish]

i want to forget this period in my life

full offense but none of you would have ever survived fanfiction.net in 2009

#lmaoooo this used to b me on wattpad

[apples-r-rubbish]

ghosts (bbc) // season 1 // sentence starters

episode 1: who do you think you are?

“Well, there are worse ways to go.” “What’s going on? All I can see is shoes.” “I wouldn’t want to live here either.” “Do you know what an owl sounds like?” “The garden view comes with the screaming woman.” “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Throw yourself out of your own damned window.” “Maybe try jumping out of the window before bed, get it out of the way.” “Staying hush whilst falling from a height? Tush and flops.” “Look at her. She’s exposing her knees and she’s got a tattoo.” “Kill them.” “I’d rather kill them.” “I couldn’t get any water in the kitchen and I couldn’t find the other kitchen, so I ended up using the garden tap, and then there’s no electric in the kitchen, so I found a plug that works in the library. I don’t know if the water’s drinkable, but I boiled it twice.” “Tis a most noxious stink.” “I found a guide on how to tame an eagle.” “She spoke to me! She spoke to me! She saw me! She spoke to me!”

episode 2: gorilla war

“Well, that seems pretty conclusive.” “What sort of heathen just barges in on a lady while she’s sleeping?” “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” “Clearly this changes things.” “Well, conversing with the dead be witchcraft. People been burned at the stake for less.” “[Pronoun] may give ear to my overtures, but alas [pronoun] is yet to respond. “I don’t think that’s a word.” “What’s wrong with a nice ‘hello’?” “You couldn’t negotiate your way out of a corn maze.” “Looks like some idiot’s taken a hammer to it.” “If you were dead, I would thrash your bottom.” “A lady does not hold a carrot like that.” “I’m too bold, forgive me. Accurse my impetuous loins!” “I’ll wait for you, my comely nug.” “Well, there’s only one thing for it, isn’t there?” “Who you gonna call?” “I just wanted to say hello!” “So you just spent— You just spent the last three days hiding in every little tiny little dark corner in this entire house, scaring me out of my mind, for no reason?!” “Okay, so I’ve just googled ‘psychotic break’ and I’m not saying that this is one but this is an article that I think you should have a look at.”

episode 3: happy death day

“I’m panicking. Right.” “You don’t want to see this in your dreams.” “Oh, yes, very good, ______. We’ll just sigh at them.” “Oh, it’s far more complicated than that, damn your eyes.” “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?” “We’re burning through money quicker than actually burning money.” “Well, I mean, there’s being nice, that’s one thing, but that’s just weird nice.” “I just wanted to lighten the mood, and it hasn’t worked. Sorry.” “Anyone dead in here?” “Don’t worry, it’s only a matter of time.” “Stop sneaking up on me!” “You know nothing of poetry!” “Of course I’m not going to kill your wife, ______, that’s a terrible idea!” “Do you mock me, sir?” “That one be Lucifer’s lackey for sure.” “I also saw a goose.”

episode 4: free pass

“They sounds like tiny people.” “Cornflakes were actually invented to stop people from touching themselves, apparently.” “I never did like cornflakes.” “Sorry! Got carried away!” “When I have control of the hands, I am going to punch you so hard.” “Is this meant to be 1820s? Those are Rococo chairs and tables. You can tell by the legs; they’re Rococo legs.” “A pox on all of them apart from ______.” “I have a lot of dreams, and most of them are about [women], apart from the one where I have the body of a crab and I cannot hold my pen.” “You are on a sinful path.” “Bigger boy made me do it.” “It’s back to boredom I suppose.”

episode 5: moonah ston

“Me speak good.” “I don’t want them thinking that we’re the sort of that people that we are.” “I don’t think it means what you think it means.” “What do posh people wear?” “Sorry, I just need to go and have a word with myself.” “Bright as thine eyes, round as thine eyes, yet too far apart, like thine— No, I don’t mean your eyes, I mean—” “I’m having a dinner party which should be clear from the fact that I’m having a dinner party.” “Well, he held his hand out. What was I supposed to do? Not shake it?” “If someone puts their hand out, I always shake it.” “Yeah, I’ve got to be honest, I don’t know what ‘reduced’ means.” “This place is weird.” “I mean, I didn’t like that pigeon, but that is no way to go.” “Ugh! Could that BE any more vexing?” “Pray tell, how you doing?”

episode 6: getting out

“Bum.” “You’ve become worse and worse and I’ve had enough to be actually honest.” “This isn’t the army. Sir.” “It’s perfectly absurd to dip individual pieces of bread when one can hold a full slice in one’s hand!” “It’s not about the cheese! It’s about the fun!” “I don’t suppose you could move me away from this large hole?” “We are having a little break from each other, actually.” “You’re not there any more, are you?” “She’s a witch, and I should know.” “Why are you here?” “It might be a plague pit but it’s our plague pit.” “When you first came here, I thought you were a prostitute.” “This isn’t how normal people live.” “Actually, I don’t do anything wrong, do I?” “Come to gloat, have you?” “The question is, what do you care about more? Keeping ______ here, or letting [pronoun] be happy?” “I’d hug you if I could.” “I need to get out of here immediately.” “Hang on, you made me do something horrible.” “You are beautiful when you’re sad.”

[apples-r-rubbish]

now i keep getting that ad and nothing else 😭 i feel cursed now 😭😭🤨

What the fuck is this ad???

[apples-r-rubbish]

under your post i got the same ad 😭

What the fuck is this ad???