#eleventh doctor
caswrld · 2 days ago
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undiscovered-horizon · a day ago
"You cut through all the noise" - Eleventh Doctor x Reader
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REQUEST: @okay-j-hannah - Hey! I’d love to request an eleventh doctor x reader where the doctor is completely dependent on and in love with the reader - she’s his anchor - but he doesn’t tell her cause you know… he’s the doctor. The reader is oblivious to those feelings and one day something happens - you choose what - and he might lose the reader. What will he do when he might possibly lose his anchor?
Author's note: based this on "Anchor" by Bastille, hence the quote. My favorite band, Dan Smith is an absolute prodigy in writing lyrics! I have way too much fun writing villains.
Word count: 1955 (I love writing sappy shit)
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You've never thought that such a word would describe your position in life but since you've met the Doctor, a lot of estranged words became reality. Like aliens.
The situation escalated, as always, but you could never imagine the whole ordeal taking such a turn. It started as it always does: the Doctor and you accidentally finding yourself in trouble in a faraway world. A small girl with oddly adorable purple skin and antennas lead you to their tribe's leader. The village was drowning in poverty, their faces almost pitiful as they made way for you and the Doctor. Some aliens talked lively between themselves, discussing something of utmost importance. How foolish of the two of you to not have suspected something when older people threw flowers under your feet. Or when a woman lifted her son to place a flower crown on your head.
Now, staring at a crumbling, concrete wall with tally marks older than Earth's history, you could only laugh bitterly at how painfully obvious the turn of events was. Everything always looks so plain in hindsight. Your hand tugged at the dress they made you wear: you couldn't tell what material it was made out of but it surely wasn't thick enough for the humid and cold prison cell. As your body shivered with cold, the flowers on your head rustled softly. The concrete floor felt rough against your bare, cold feet. Your spine was burning as if, beginning for you to sit differently. The feeling of a metal cuff around your leg and neck has become almost familiar. You never expected yourself to die in chains.
The two guards in front of the cell door stood as still as only a marble statue could. Their skin was of a purplish-blue color, the very tips of their antennas glowed slightly. In their hands, they held long spears that somehow had electricity flowing through them. The occasional zap of static energy was the only sound you could hear.
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"You have your duties and so do we," the prince shrugged. His face was smooth, features soft. He couldn't have been an adult. "This is of no personal matter, Doctor. Wrong place, wrong time, I suppose." The ruler was greatly unmoved by what was going on.
"You can't just kill her!" Doctor's voice echoed throughout the throne room. The royal guards straightened their backs upon hearing some pesky alien yell at their prince. How dare he? "Whatever it is you want to give her to, I can help you." He stepped forward. "No one else has to die."
False. It was you who couldn't die. He wouldn't mind swapping places with you, not really. Well, it would break his heart to tell you goodbye so early but if it meant that you lived on, it was alright. If your face was the last thing he saw, your name the last word he spoke, he didn't mind death. He treated her like an old friend. The Doctor knew you would carry on living without him, he doubted he was that important to you. Why would he be? But him living without you? Who on Earth could conceive such a ridiculous idea? How could a fish live without water? A ship sail without an anchor? Maybe that was exactly why he never said anything about those feelings, in fear that you would reject him and leave. And what he would do then? How could the universe exist without you? How could he?
The prince laughed in the Doctor's face.
"Do you really think it's about the giant amphibian occupying the temple?" The boy asked between laughs. "Come on!" He yelled out upon seeing the confusion on Doctor's face. "People think it's an honor to be sacrificed to the god." He put the title in air quotes. "The only thing between them and the creature is me, their merciful ruler. And being the kindest and greatest of the dynasty, I offer one soul in return for peace, good weather, bountiful crop and whatever else those hillbillys believe. And now, look!" He jumped from his throne. With his hands behind his back, the prince descended down the stairs to Doctor's level. "An alien woman willingly giving her life for our wellbeing and her friend proudly watching her do what's right." The prince said that in an overly dramatic tone. After that, he placed his hand on Doctor's shoulder and leaned in. "But between you and I. dear Doctor, there is no amphibian in the temple."
"So you're lying to all those people? They trust you, they love you, and you just tell them a story to cover the slaughter of innocent lives? Why?"
The prince gave him a theatrical, apologetic smile.
"Oops, guess the cat got out of the bag. We all need some leverage to keep what we like, right? You can't win without an ace up your sleeve. You should know that, Doctor."
"Oh, I have many tricks up my sleeve but none of them involves the pointless killing of people."
"Well, clearly not that many. I mean, if you had so many tricks up your sleeve, you wouldn't be here, right? And your pretty friend wouldn't be getting blisters or cystitis in the prison cell. The only thing you have up your sleeve is pride and a joker, because you're nothing beyond a jester." The prince gave him a mockingly pitiful look. "I would say what I really wanted but a prince shouldn't use words like a complete and utter failure, you know?" The boy chuckled and patted Doctor's shoulder before turning around. "Anyway! Since it's your friend, I have booked you a front-row seat for the ceremony."
"I won't let you do it."
"And when did I ask for your permission?"
"You tried to hurt someone very important to me. I'm past negotiating."
Before the prince opened his mouth to order the guards to attack, the Doctor used his screwdriver on purple bullyboys and rendered them immobile, having taken control of their heavy armor. While the monarch furiously yelled out for more guards to arrive, the Doctor did not waste a minute running out of the throne room to try and find you. Your name was the only thing he knew.
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You heard distant yelling and then the guards keeping an eye on you started talking to each other in hushed and rushed voices. They gave you a final look and run down the corridor on the right. Not a minute passed when a familiar figure emerged from around the left corner.
Seeing you, the Doctor felt slightly less anxious and more angry at himself. He lead you into this situation, the most precious thing he had. How could he had been so stupid, so reckless, to let them take you? What in Hell was he thin-
"Doctor!" you yelled out in relief and surprise. Was he the cause of the alarm?
And with that simple word, the static of self-hate in his head suddenly stopped. His feet were back on the ground. You always cut through all the noise.
"(Y/N)!" He knew of no word more beautiful or meaningful. If some asked hims to describe what everything could mean, he wouldn't think twice before slowly letting your name escape his lips like a secret forgotten by the God himself. Epiphany had your face.
With trembling hands, he used his screwdriver to unlock the cell door. You could feel the shakes as he hesitantly placed his hands against your cold face.
"Are you alright?" he asked anxiously. You gently grabbed his wrists, savoring the warmth of his body. He tightened his lips upon feeling your freezing skin.
"A little cold," you answered. "Let's get out of here."
The sonic screwdriver made its characteristic noise and soon after you felt the metal cuffs let go. You couldn't help but sigh at the relief.
"You're hurt," he said quietly seeing the redness around your neck.
"Let's go, please," you asked him. The tiredness and fear in your eyes made him change his mind. He needed you safe first.
The Doctor helped you up and gave you his tweed jacket to wear. The garment had a slight smell of old books, burnt wires and motor oil.
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Only when the doors of TARDIS closed behind you did you feel safe again. A deep exhale left your lungs while the Doctor quickly set another destination, as far from that cursed planet as he could get.
You knew that somber, dark expression on his face. Whenever something ended less than ideally, the Doctor would mope, speaking little to no words. What surprised you, however, was the stare that you caught. The Doctor leaned on the console and stared at you with an odd expression on his face as if he knew something so upsetting he couldn't keep it inside and the horror sneakily escaped onto his face.
"I know that face," you said softly, walking towards him. Truthfully, you knew his mopiness but not the raw grief that showed in his eyes. "And I know you're blaming yourself for what happened but it's not your fault, Doctor. You couldn't have known the whole tribe was in on it. You just wanted to help." You put your hand on his shoulder. His muscles relaxed under your touch.
"You got hurt because of me," he said quietly. "What if I hadn't found you in time?"
"But you did. You always do. How can you be the hero without a damsel in distress?" You could only hope some humor would lift his spirits.
The Doctor straightened his back and turned to face you. Before you took your hand back from his shoulder, he gently grabbed it, rubbing his thumb against it.
"I don't want you to be a damsel in distress. I'd much rather you were a damsel in safety."
For a moment the two of you were silent. You could tell he wasn't fully honest. You have gotten more severely hurt without the Doctor mourning you prematurely. So what was different about your misadventure this time?
"I can see right through you, you know?" You said quietly, a soft smile on your face. The Doctor turned his head to the side for a moment. "What is it?"
"It's you." You barely heard him. The Doctor turned his head back to you, his sad eyes staring right through you. His free hand hesitantly brushed against your cheek. "It's always about you, (Y/N). You are the light that is blinding me, the anchor that I tie to my brain. When it feels when I'm lost at sea, you're the song that I sing again and again. I think of you all the time."
You weren't sure how to respond. The confession felt so sincere and intimate you couldn't help but be flustered at the vulnerability the Doctor rarely showed.
"Something about you makes me feel a little more alive and a far less lost. I'm too selfish to lose you."
"Then you better don't," you said with a smile. You could feel tears stinging your eyes. No one has ever said something as raw to you before. Turning your hand towards his hand resting your face, you placed a feathery kiss on the inside of his palm.
When a day comes that he forgets his own name, who he was and what a butterfly is, he will still remember you. You were the sun and he your planets, the only reason he stood with his feet on the ground. After all, how could an angel forget God's name? He told the stars about you and they grew jealous of each word filled with unimaginable adoration that they naively thought only belonged to them.
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carucath · 2 days ago
So I did this fanart for @twelvedimensional — I decided to pick 11 and Liz Shaw!
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I thought I would have an older Liz because I thought that would fit the old/young dichotomy (a bit like Sarah Jane and Ten vs Sarah Jane and Three).
I hope you like it
Thanks to @dreamteamexchange for organising this event!
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okay-j-hannah · 2 days ago
Part 5: The Regeneration
Doctor Who : Multishot
Eleventh Doctor x Reader
Word Count: 6251
Warnings: This is a roller coaster of angst to fluff to angst. But I LOVE it! 
Request: This is just from my own head 😊
A/N: You see eleven for the first time and begin the process of falling in love all over again 😭 he’s such a freaking sweetheart
Prologue: The Dying Girl
Part 4: The Dream
Part 5: The Regeneration {You Are Here}
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That’s how she felt.
Painfully sore.
She could tell the light was on from the pink glow of her eyelids. But when she moved to
investigate, she found her muscles burning.
She whimpered, wiggling around the sheets. Yes, they were definitely sheets.
She didn’t remember ever getting into bed.
A few hesitant blinks later, and (Y/N) was rolling her head to the side, observing the room around her. It took a few moments, but she recognized it. She was in the Doctor’s bedroom.
That thought made her smile. Of course he got to her in time. He always pulled through in the end.
Her Doctor with his great big stupid brown eyes and cheeky grin. That beautiful bastard.
It took a second longer for her eyes to properly focus. But she was quite positive that a man was standing against the wall a few feet away.
He looked positively terrified. And rather unkempt, she had to say. He had a pleasant enough face, but it was blotchy and flushed. She wondered whether or not he had been crying earlier. His
hair was a mop on his head and his fingers knotted in front of him.
She had to admit the crooked bowtie was a nice touch.
“Hel…” she tried to speak, but her voice cracked and scraped against her throat. She winced and started coughing. “I’m sorry.” She noticed the way he jumped, seemingly wanting to help but not knowing what to do.
“I meant to say hello,” she said quietly, “But I seem a little put out.” With a struggle she managed to sit up. A sweat immediately broke out at her temples. “May I ask who you are? Are you a companion of the Doctor’s?”
The only response out of him was the slight quiver of his floppy hair. He must be shaking.
“Right,” she mused, feeling a tug at her arm. She looked down to find an IV there, “I’m going to assume this is the cure?” She turned back to him, “Are you here administering it?”
There was a bob in the man’s throat.
“Well, seeing as it’s empty, I’m just going to remove it,” and she pulled the needle out, “How long have I been here? I distinctly remember being in my apartment when I passed out.”
The man opened his mouth as if he were to say something. However he seemed incapable of making any noise.
“I feel remarkably strong,” (Y/N) realized, “Regardless of how long I’ve been laying here – I feel better than I have in ages.” She stretched her arms, flexing her toes beneath the sheets, “I suppose that means the cure is working.”
She looked towards the man she figured was a hospital worker tending to her blood. He finally closed his mouth. His eyes were still wide and fearful.
(Y/N) squinted, “There must be someone on this ship able to talk to me.” She pulled the sheets aside and found she was wearing one of her old nightgowns. “I’ll just have to find the Doctor. Thank you for helping me, whoever you are.”
She went to stand and had to grip the bedpost to steady herself. A rush flooded towards her head and blinded her momentarily. “I would be a bit dizzy on my feet – having been bedridden for so long, wouldn’t I?”
When she opened her gaze once more she found the man had taken a few steps towards her. His arms were outstretched slightly as if he had made to catch her but stopped himself last minute.
“I’m all right,” she assured him, “I’ll just be off to find the Doctor, then.”
She stood there for a second longer, perhaps to see if he’d respond, but her words seemed to shut him down. The man closed in on himself and trailed his eyes to the ground.
“Right,” she muttered, turning around and heading for the hallway. A robe was gathered on a spare chair near the door; she took it to wrap around her light nightgown.
It was much too large, and more than likely the Doctor’s. Though she didn’t recognize it. It smelt different. Almost sweeter.
Sore, yes – she was definitely sore. But it had been such a long time since she was able to walk without losing her breath; it was a fantastic feeling to breathe again.
The metal floors were cold beneath her bare feet and the walls were dimly lit. She couldn’t see very well, but there was something different about the ship.
“Just find the ladder,” she said under her breath, “It should be right over here.”
She turned a corner – expecting the small living room she normally read her books in – and found another stretch of hall. This one led to a grand opening at the end, one blinking with many colored lights.
She stood still, the tie of her robe trailing along the floor. What on earth? Had he redecorated?
A shiver of uncertainty ran down her spine. This was the Doctor’s ship, right?
“Hello? TARDIS? Are you there, old girl?”
A flurry of noise came from the opening at the end of the hall. Ceiling lights turned on, one by one, from the opening to where (Y/N) was. She was lighting the way.
(Y/N) smiled, warmth replacing the fear, “Hello you beauty.”
She began to walk purposefully towards the blinking lights and whirling sounds. Just as it had when she first arrived on the TARDIS all that time ago, a strange and exciting energy was filling her up.
It sent pinpricks across her skin as she reached the opening and gasped. It couldn’t be the console room, could it? It was so different.
It was so miraculously different.
The console was essentially the same shape, but there were no more grated floors or a ramp. The controls rested on a glass platform and was surrounded by stairs. The room emanated a warm orange glow, except for a few strings of alien green.
It was rather homey.
(Y/N) stared below her and found the largest staircase lined with railing. Well, it was better than a ladder, she had to say.
Her gasp rounded into a wonderous smile. “I’m impressed, old girl. You’ve been busy while I was asleep.”
The ship hummed her thanks. She showed off with a little light show.
(Y/N) laughed, using the railing to walk down the stairs. “These are a fantastic idea. I was always too kind to say this place was in need of a remodel.”
“It was all you, you know.”
Reaching the bottom, she whirled around, steadying herself on the railing. The man from the bedroom was at the top.
It was like he couldn’t keep his eyes on one spot. He’d meet her eyes, then trail down, flicker to the console, move to the walls, then hesitantly look at her face again.
He still looked worse for wear.
“What was all me?”
The man tilted his head to the side and fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. “The stairs. You once said stairs would be much easier than a ladder. She heard you.”
(Y/N) felt a small smile grow on her face, though her brow scrunched in confusion. “Yeah, I suppose I did. But… how would you know that?”
He pursed his lips; knotted his fingers again. A new noise was coming from another staircase.
(Y/N) turned to observe a pair of people skidding down towards the console. A red headed woman was laughing and dragging a mousey man behind her.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, “Hello there.” Her hazel eyes widened, “You’re awake.”
“Yes,” (Y/N) faked a polite smile, “Hello. Who are you?”
“Um… I’m Amy and this is…”
“Rory,” the following man said hesitantly. He seemed fidgety as (Y/N) flickered her gaze between the two.
“You would think traveling with the Doctor would make you used to the unexpected,” (Y/N) mumbled, “Go away for a few months and everything is different.”
Amy immediately stared at the man at the top of the stairs.
“The Doctor, right,” Rory called out awkwardly, “We’ve traveled with him as well.”
“I assumed,” (Y/N) said, “The only company the Doctor keeps are his companions. How long have you been with him then?”
The pair kept looking behind her but replied tensely.
“A couple months, maybe three,” Amy said, “It’s hard to count calendar dates.”
“Yes,” (Y/N) laughed softly, wrapping the overly large robe tighter around her. “I’m (Y/N), by the way.”
“We know,” Rory blurted, but then backtracked, “What I mean… I mean – the Doctor… he told us about you.”
Amy pinched him in the side, “We helped save you.”
“Oh,” said (Y/N), “I suppose I owe you my thanks. I believe it was cutting it a little close.”
Rory cleared his throat, “Yeah it was a bit dodgy in the beginning. I would like to run a few tests to make sure everything is all right – just to be sure.”
At (Y/N)’s look of confusion, Amy interjected, “He’s a nurse. The Doctor refused to move you once we got you onboard, so Rory took over.”
“That’s very kind of you,” (Y/N) replied, her eyes a bit brighter, “Thank you, Rory. I’m sure I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.”
“Well – it was mostly the Doctor,” Rory said, hiding his embarrassed blush.
“Yes, but the Doctor can’t do anything without his friends,” (Y/N) laughed, “Give yourself some credit.”
Amy smirked, warming up, “I can tell why he likes you so much.”
(Y/N) swallowed hard, “The Doctor picks his companions wisely. Friends of the Doctor are friends of mine. Thank you for keeping him company while I’ve been away. I never liked the idea of him being alone. He should never be alone.”
“Have you talked to him yet?” Amy stared behind (Y/N) again.
“No, I haven’t seen him. I got distracted with the new TARDIS and… well, you two,” (Y/N) laughed, “Do you know where he is? Has he told you to stay put while he goes adventuring? He tends to do that.”
Rory opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words, so he turned to Amy. She blinked hard a few times, “You have seen him.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You just walked away from him.”
(Y/N) contorted her brow. “No. The only person I ran into besides you two was… that man.” Her breath came out shallow, slowly turning around.
That floppy haired man was now on the main floor. How was it he still looked absolutely petrified?
“He was in the Doctor’s bedroom when I woke up.”
Amy muttered, “The Doctor refused to leave your side.”
(Y/N) stared at the red-faced man for a few more moments, then scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous – that’s not the Doctor. I’ve traveled with him for over a year; I think I know the Doctor when I see him.”
The silent man bowed his head, hair falling into his gaze.
Amy and Rory shared a tense look. “But there may be a few things you don’t know about him yet.”
“Excuse me?” (Y/N) whispered, “Whatever you think you know about me and the Doctor is only a small piece. I know him better than anyone.” She was getting flustered, “Have you ever had someone that you trust completely? All your secrets your worries your pains your stories – everything that makes you, you. So much so that you’ve become a part of each other forever; your stories mixed up together for the rest of your life.”
Rory edged his hand over and into Amy’s, “Yes, actually. We’re engaged.”
(Y/N) pursed her lips, “Then you can trust that my mind is sound when I say that isn’t my Doctor. I know my Doctor, especially what he looks like.”
Amy was terse when she whisper-shouted, “Doctor, pretty sure that’s your cue.”
(Y/N) spun around, staring at the man with wide, unbelieving eyes. “You… you said the TARDIS heard me when I said I wanted stairs. How did you know that?”
“(Y/N),” he whispered, his voice so fragile, “Please.”
“How did you know?” she asked with a stronger tone, but her eyes were burning with emotion.
He rubbed at his tired face, “Because I was there.”
“No you weren’t.”
“Yes, (Y/N) – please listen to me,” he urged.
“How can you be him?” She was taking steps away towards the front door.
He didn’t move an inch, perhaps in an effort not to scare her off. “You used to be a primary schoolteacher. You enjoy hot cocoa just as much as afternoon tea. You believe a proper homecooked meal can solve almost anything. You like to be told stories as you fall asleep. You also have a remarkable skill in making me lose my mind in worry.”
(Y/N) had clamped her mouth shut, her breath shaky as she pressed herself against the door. Her head was held high as her eyes watered in fear.
The Doctor held his hands up as he faced her, as if speaking to a skittish creature. “We’ve been on countless adventures, usually in an effort to solve your little mystery.”
She let out the breath she had been holding.
“Remember the burning planet? The one with the sun gods… the ones that named you the dying girl. Remember how we faced the Reapers and the Bermuda Triangle? That was us. You and me. Us Time Lords traveling the stars. From the time we first met at that school…”
“That wasn’t the time we first met,” (Y/N) sniffed. She was quiet, still unable to face the truth. “And you know it, as it was your fault,” she gave a wet laugh – full of sorrow.
The Doctor was finding it hard to keep his eyes clear as well, “You’re right, of course you are – you’re always right. I was there when you woke up. The first time… in that hospital.”
She screwed her mouth in a scowl, trying to keep herself together. But you could hear the cry in her voice when she spoke, “Why do you look so different?”
He swallowed thickly, “Remember what I told you about regeneration energy?”
“It helps us heal faster – makes us stronger.”
“It’s a way to keep us alive,” the Doctor smiled painfully, “If we’re mortally wounded, we can heal ourselves completely. So completely that sometimes it changes us. Sometimes we need a whole new body to replace the old one that’s dying.”
(Y/N) gave him an up and down look. Realization hit her gaze and a fresh wall of tears grew there. “That night… the night you said goodbye. Is that why you were acting so strange? You were dying?”
He clenched his jaw and nodded. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, biting the inside of her cheek. “You didn’t know how to tell me.”
“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I am so terribly sorry. More sorry than you know,” he took a step towards her but stopped himself, clenching his fists in frustration. “It was selfish of me, and you were sick. I was scared, (Y/N).”
He watched her expression and could only see the betrayal there.
His shoulders sunk, “… and I’m just making excuses.”
She stood there, one arm wrapped around her stomach and the other clutching the fabric over her hearts. Her eyes were red and dangerously dim. She remained silent, her mind flying, as she stared at him.
Her gaze made him shrink further and further into himself. He cowered, bare in the open for everyone to see. But he remained there to feel his shame becoming reality.
“How ironic,” she mumbled, her voice thick. “We were both dying in that moment.”
The Doctor lifted his desperate gaze.
“I was sick, properly terminal, and you didn’t want to upset me further.”
There was nothing but self-loathing in the Doctor’s face.
She harshly wiped a tear from her cheek, “And when you regenerated… how long did it take for you to come back for me?”
It was a peak in his despair, his chest positively bursting with his guilt. It burned and broiled there, making his head pound. “P-Post regeneration amnesia. Same memories – new head.” He rubbed his hands together, hard. “Having lived so many lives, sometimes it takes a while for all the past memories to… to come back.”
It was silent after that. (Y/N) was red-faced and glistening, gnawing on her chapped lips. It was a wonder that she felt so strong and capable half an hour ago. She dwelt on his confession, taking in his whole figure.
She could see the guilt plain on his face.
“You’re all right, though?” He met her gaze and seemed desperate for her answer. If she never spoke to him again, he needed an answer to this question at least. “You’re cured? No more…” he waved his hands about, “Bleeding and fainting.”
She took a deep breath, “None so far.”
He sighed his immense relief, “It worked.” He couldn’t help but smile as that worry drifted away from him.
(Y/N) wiped at her nose again, “And your memories… they’re all back in place, yeah?”
The Doctor nodded and played with his knotted fingers. He was alarmed when she took a few steps towards him.
“I know a thing or two about amnesia.”
He didn’t know whether or not to smile at the dark joke. All he knew was she was getting closer to him, and he wasn’t sure if it was to hug him or hit him.
“I suppose you do.”
She was now only a few feet away, her eyes trailing his body. He fidgeted, making to move or say something, but she stopped him with a raised hand.
“Just… let me…” She bit her lip, looking him over. One of her arms was still wrapped around her stomach, but her other – very slowly – reached for his shirt. Her hand pressed flat against his chest, searching for the beats of his hearts.
He seemed unprepared for the feeling of her so near. His limbs locked in place, his breathing strained. She felt his hearts beat erratically under her touch.
“Well, I’d say you’re a Time Lord,” she whispered. Looking up, she saw his throat bob. She moved her hand towards his face, grazing a few fingers along his jawline. “My, my – that chin.”
He let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes.
(Y/N) went to touch the fringe of his hair, “And still not a ginger.” She was intending for a joke – to lighten the situation – but she was still choked up and refraining from crying more. “Is that why you keep redheaded companions? Donna then Amy.”
The corners of his lips upturned. He was too contented with the fact she was touching his hair.
She swallowed hard, willing the tears to retreat as she moved to hold his face with her hands, “Doctor.”
He finally reopened his eyes. They were longing and hurting.
“Green,” she muttered. That made him frown slightly. “Are… is my Doctor really in there?”
He stared at her while in the middle of saving the moment in his memories. He quietly lifted his hands to wrap around her wrists against his face. “Same man – different face.”
“This is going to take some getting used to,” she smiled sadly.
He nodded and frowned, “I understand.”
(Y/N) choked on her words, unable to do think of something to do next. She only hesitantly wrapped her arms around his neck. She rested lightly there, barely resting against him.
The Doctor on the other hand, he wrapped his arms around her waist so very tightly. He held her to him with such desperation. His face was pressed hard into her shoulder, shaking with contained emotion.
He obviously needed this, she thought.
She only lightly held him back, staring behind him with deep confusion. Well, now she knew why his robe smelled different. He did smell sweeter than the other Doctor.
She closed her eyes and grimaced. The other Doctor. He said they were the same man.
(Y/N) was the first to pull away and she was embarrassed to see the Doctor’s reaction. He had shed another tear while holding her and had a hopeful smile. Though when he noticed her clear face and slight confusion, he let go immediately.
He took a few steps back and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Right,” he mumbled, “Some time to get used to it.”
(Y/N) looked towards the ground but felt something twinkling tickle her throat. She parted her lips and a stream of glittering golden light flew out. It soared and disappeared into the air, shimmering as it went.
“Wh-what was that?” she pointed towards it.
The Doctor’s face grew into a fantastical grin, “Regeneration energy. You’re being healed! The cure is producing Time Lord cells in your body. This is incredible!” He was waving his hands around and twirling about.
She felt a spark of fun. She supposed being around the Doctor just filled you with contagious energy.
“That settles it. I’m going to be all right.”
The Doctor flailed about, ending with gripping her forearms, “Yes, you’re going to be all right.”
He looked about ready to kiss her, but he didn’t. “Brilliant!”
She finally smiled with him. “Absolutely brilliant.”
He was breathing heavy, but managed to retract his hold and avert his eyes, “You need anything?”
“Perhaps a shower,” she mused, “And to see where my room is now.”
The Doctor snapped his fingers, “Yes. Shower – lovely. I mean, finding your room. It’s here somewhere.”
He’s the Doctor.
He’s the Doctor.
He’s the Doctor.
(Y/N) stood on the other side of the console, holding onto the control panel with a white-knuckled grip. The Doctor was flipping switches in the eccentric fashion he did everything. He was just a bit more physical than his past self.
He was always waving his hands about, twirling around, and moving in jerky ways that matched his ever-changing moods. He wore his emotions on his sleeve much more than the other him. He seemed much more child-like than the old him.
Her new pastime was to compare this regeneration with the old one, frequently falling into a state of despair. She was catching herself doing it now.
Their eyes met for a split second before (Y/N) turned away, swallowing hard.
“How about that atmosphere?”
She looked to him, confused. He had his best side smile on, wiggling his head so his hair bounced. It would have been endearing but…
He was so different.
She felt nauseous.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He left his mouth hanging open, but he retreated to knotting his fingers together and jutting his jaw to the side. He looked towards the ground, “We just got back from cosmic central – the most beautiful crystalline atmosphere out there. Remember?”
It took a second too long for her to respond, “Yes, of course. It was beautiful.”
“You’re doing it again,” he muttered, cautiously looking towards her.
She raked a hand through her hair, backing away from the console, “Doing what again?”
“Nothing.” He flipped another switch, “Just thinking of more places to go. Do you have any requests?”
There was an incredibly long list of places she would like to go. But as she envisioned them now… they were all with the old him. “I’m actually pretty tired. I think I’ll tuck in for the night.”
There was that familiar anxious tension starting to bubble into the room.
“Oh, right,” he said, attempting and failing to choke down his disappointment. “You’ve still got some regeneration healing to do. I should’ve known better than to tucker you out.” He gave a sincere smile and hid his hands behind his back.
(Y/N) didn’t wait for a goodnight; she just left the console as quickly as she could.
The tears came as soon as she was in her room.
It was going to be another long night of absent storytelling.
Amy handed her a cup of steaming hot chocolate.
“Thanks,” (Y/N) blew on it and tucked her feet beneath her.
“Give me the update,” Amy smacked her lips, “How’s the broken heart?”
“Broken heart?” she smiled in a way only Amy could make her.
“It might be the same man, but you lost someone too. The old version of him. I’d say that describes getting your heart broken – losing that man you loved. You’re allowed to be sad about that.”
That was the most sense (Y/N) had heard in many days. “I suppose you’re right.” She didn’t feel so bad about her unkemptness – her red rimmed eyes and pink nose. “I just have to get used to him being so different.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Amy scoffed, matching (Y/N) in tucking her feet. “Same memories, thoughts, and feelings, but he does have a new face and a new personality. It’s okay to not mesh with his new self.”
“I’m confused now. Do you want us to get together or not?” (Y/N) laughed.
Amy waved a hand, picking up a nail polish, “You know what I mean. You move on when you’re good and ready.” She flickered her eyes up to catch (Y/N)’s expression.
“But he’s ready now, isn’t he?”
Amy let out a heavy sigh, now distracting herself with painting her nails, “Sort of.”
“What has he told you?” she took a sip of her cocoa, eyes glassy.
“Well, for him, nothing has changed. You’re still you, right? His feelings haven’t suddenly disappeared because he has a new face.”
(Y/N) nodded slowly, a pain beginning to twist in her stomach, “It must be just as strange for him. We went from kisses and cuddles to being always ten feet apart. Sometimes I feel so guilty looking at him being all expectant like I’m going to kiss him goodnight like I use to.” She swirled her drink around to watch the steam escape, “Does he still love me?”
Amy paused her nail painting, “That’s something you should ask him.”
“I don’t know how to talk to him anymore!”
“All right, listen,” she put her paint down and faced (Y/N) straight on, “I traveled with him for a while before we found you. I was there when he realized you were still waiting for him on your deathbed. (Y/N)… the way he was without you was like a puzzle missing a piece. When he thought no one was looking he’d get this sad nostalgic look like he was forgetting something. And when he remembered – (Y/N) it was like nothing else mattered more.
Nothing in the universe could’ve stopped him from getting to you. When he found you in that entryway…” she had to stop to shake her head. “He didn’t make a noise, but it was as though he was screaming in agony. And he was like that until you woke up. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t eat. He’d sit with his head in his hands from dawn til dusk. And you’ve been around him enough to know that man doesn’t sit still.”
(Y/N) felt a lump grow in her throat, clutching at her mug.
“You say you feel guilty,” Amy muttered, “He feels like it was his fault you almost died.”
“But it was him that saved me – he cured me,” she whispered back.
“You know him,” Amy smiled, “What doesn’t he feel guilty for?”
(Y/N) felt her eyes water, “I do know him.”
Amy’s eyes flickered to behind the couch for a fraction of a second, “If you want my opinion. Yes – yes I think he still loves you.”
They sat there for a few moments, (Y/N) laughing at herself and wiping her eyes. Nothing else needed to be discussed. (Y/N) knew she was going to give him a chance.
She simply ended with, “Thank you for the cocoa. It is one of my favorite drinks.”
“You think I made that?” Amy smirked, “I was just passing it along.”
The Scot looked behind the couch again and met the Doctor’s gaze. He mouthed a short ‘thank you’ and she nodded in return. He was somber and restrained as he fought the urge to comfort (Y/N)’s sniffles.
But he was grateful for at least someone on board the ship she could talk to.
They meandered towards the Globe Theatre, Amy and Rory joined by the arms just ahead. The Doctor walked beside (Y/N), hands in his pockets, no doubt an attempt to hide their fidgeting and to appear ‘cool.’
She was sporting a multicolored scarf she found in one of the constantly disappearing and reappearing coat closets.
“Thank you – for taking me here.”
“Of course,” he said, face borderline expressionless; a symptom that he was trying too hard to hide what he was feeling.
“I’ve wanted to come here for ages. Ever since those stories with you and Martha.” It took practice, but she was getting better at talking about the two Doctors as one.
He had a fond smile, “Just don’t go anywhere alone with Shakespeare. He may be a genius but he’s also an absolute dog.”
She laughed and he turned to watch her.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
There was a beat before she asked, “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“I’ve always been nice to you.”
“Even while I’ve been so horrid?”
“(Y/N), though I’ve described you as grumpy on more than one occasion, never have I ever thought of you as horrid.”  He averted his eyes when he said as plainly as he could, “You’re lovelier than you know.”
She had to concentrate on her steps to make sure she didn’t stop completely. “I appreciate you being patient with me.”
He lightly reached over and picked up her scarf that had fallen from her shoulder. He carefully fixed it without touching her.
“You are worth every second.”
He was making it very easy to fall in love with his new face. How could she not want to hold his hand now?
As they entered the theatre, the quartet made their way towards the benches in the top boxes. There the Doctor walked ahead and sat down first, followed by Rory and Amy shuffling down the aisle.
He didn’t want to make (Y/N) uncomfortable by making her sit next to him through an entire play.
It took a mere two seconds for her to decide what she wanted to do. She nudged past Amy and Rory’s knees, “Sorry – sorry.” And she planted herself on the other side of the Doctor.
His hands were fists resting on his knees, “Hello there.”
“Hello,” she said, “Do you mind if I sit here?”
“Never,” he said quietly.
And it took thirty-seven seconds – (Y/N) counted – thirty-seven seconds for the Doctor to stop looking at her.
“Oh, look! I think I see Shakespeare near the stage.” She leaned over and their arms touched. From shoulder to elbow.
“Y-Yes, I believe so.”
And she didn’t move away from that spot for the rest of the evening.
She may have been a Time Lord, but she was still incapable of many Time Lord tricks.
Regeneration for example. Her body was not entirely healed still.
Another nifty little trick was called the Trance of Sleep. It was a little known fact that Time Lords could put themselves in a trance of sleep for about twenty minutes that would feel like eight hours to any regular person.
What (Y/N) would give to have that ability now.
She tossed and turned in her bed, feeling exhausted but not sleepy. The purple circles beneath her eyes were becoming a normal part of her everyday complexion.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation her and the Doctor were having earlier in the kitchen. It was a proper full-sized kitchen which she was particularly excited about.
She had found the Doctor attempting to empty a carton of custard into a bowl, splashing it colossally everywhere.
“Let me guess,” she went for a rag, “Custard is cool.”
“No, custard is delicious,” he rang back, licking his fingers.
“You have this ginormous kitchen now,” she laughed, helping him clean, “Why do you insist on eating custard from a carton?”
The Doctor hesitated, “Because this was your idea.”
She stared at him, getting that feeling that the Doctor just assumed she would understand that statement. “Care to explain further?”
“Oh, yes. The TARDIS – she heard you, remember?” he was looking everywhere but her eyes. “She put in stairs, gave you a full kitchen to cook and host, and made everything a bit roomier. Enough space for two now.”
And now here she was, restless in bed, because the Doctor confessed the TARDIS upgraded to make room for her to live there. Like the regeneration was a chance to buy her dream home.
She had to admit it had given her butterflies. The way the Doctor had said it so casually as if it meant nothing to him. He was probably fighting sleep as much as she was.
*knock knock knock*
(Y/N) sat straight up in bed as her door cracked open. Her hearts raced when the face of the Doctor popped in.
“Oh, good,” he sighed, “You’re awake.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, “What’s wrong, Doctor?”
“I, uh…” he opened the door wider, and her breath caught. He was wearing flannel pajamas – the same ones they’d hunted for months ago. He was rubbing his hands together harshly, a hunch in his shoulders, “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Funny,” she scoffed, “I thought you were fond of trances.”
He rolled on his feet, moving to his tip toes and then to the backs of his heels, “Trances don’t keep nightmares at bay.” He was finding it hard to look at her again, “What can I say, I’ve gone all humany-wumany.”
She regretted scoffing at him, “Nightmares?”
He waved a hand, “And you? Why are you awake?”
“I can’t seem to quiet my head.”
He nodded as if he understood the feeling. “Well, I just thought I’d check on you. Make sure you were okay.”
At those words she noticed the way his face looked a little red. That his voice was a little raw. It was too dim in the dark bedroom to tell right off.
She watched him stand there, probably hoping she’d say something more. “Are you all right?”
“I’m always all right.”
“And that’s code for not actually being all right, is it?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Cause I’m definitely all right, too.”
He let out a breathy laugh, “You were always an observant one. Always so clever.”
She decided on a whim to pat the space next to her, “I’m in the mood for a story, Doctor.”
The gratitude in his face almost made her hearts break all over again. “A story?” He took a few cautious steps towards her, “I believe I’ve got a few of those.” He took residence on the mattress beside her. He didn’t get under the sheets with her, but she threw a blanket over him regardless.
“Tell me one of yours and Amy’s. I’ve heard just about everyone else.”
“All right,” he bounced on the mattress, making her wobble and giggle. He flopped onto his side, holding his pillow to prop himself up, “Did I tell you we ran into the weeping angels again?”
“No!” (Y/N) gasped, “Where?”
“Catacombs,” the Doctor whispered excitedly, “It was absolutely thrilling.”
“Sounds terrifying actually.”
“That’s what was so thrilling about it!”
And they laid there for hours talking about the star whale and the weeping angels and Vincent Van Gogh and the vampires in Venice. She soaked in every second of the stories, relishing how each reminded her of how incredible her Doctor was.
How caring and helpful and lovely he was. Just as she hoped, his storytelling was making her sleepy.
She was finding her hand inch closer and closer to his. Until with a zap of nerves, the backs of their hands touched.
The Doctor paused in his latest story about a pregnant Amy and a Rory with a ponytail.
It was tensely silent. And (Y/N) wondered if he had stopped breathing.
Then his index finger brushed up and met hers. He paused, waiting for her to retreat. Then he curled over and met her palm. She opened her hand and let him intertwine their fingers.
It was safe and warm.
They were quiet now, (Y/N) feeling the effects of drowsiness more heavily. She was gravitating towards him. The next thing she knew she was holding onto his arm as well as his hand. Her face rested against his shoulder.
A sigh of contentment escaped her.
She could have sworn the Doctor tensed at the sound.
There was a sniff. The arm she was holding began to shake.
Her eyes opened ever so slightly.
“It was a nightmare,” he whispered, “That’s why I came in here. I had a nightmare.”
She squeezed his hand.
“I had to make sure you were okay.”
Her hearts began to beat very fast, but whispered back, “I am okay. It was only a dream.”
“No,” he cried, “It was real.”
Her mind flashed. Amy telling her about the entryway. About how they found her.
About how she was on the brink of death.
Slowly as to not disturb him too much, (Y/N) moved his arm up so she could move into his embrace. She rested against his chest and wrapped her arm around his stomach. He responded immediately, not worried about her reaction now.
He held her so tightly.
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theuntetherednow · a day ago
Its always weird to me when people frame the events of The Pandorica Opens as being earlier in the Kovarian sect’s timeline than The Impossible Astronaut. The sense I got in the end was that Eleven and the Kovarian sect encountered each other in nearly perfect reverse sequence, mirroring (the intention, if not the actual execution) of his relationship with River. 
Setting up this perfect set of circumstances where the Doctor could be killed and it would become a fixed point feels like the carefully considered Plan A, whereas just blowing up the Tardis under the assumption that he must be the one piloting it really feels like a last act of desperation.
We see in both Turn Left and The Name of the Doctor the consequences of killing the Doctor earlier in his timeline. There were a bunch of universe or multiverse level threats that he dealt with right up until the absolute last moments of his tenth incarnation. The Kovarian sect are ultimately a relatively benevolent group acting in the perceived best interests of humanity, so they’re not going to want to kill the Doctor just to create a timeline where the Daleks erase the multiverse or Rassilon destroys the universe. 
So from the perspective of the church at that point in meta-time, they could really only kill the Eleventh Doctor to save the universe. Any earlier and you’re guaranteeing a worse fate for humanity than the one you’re trying to avert. They’re limited to the IIRC about 200 years between his regeneration and the beginning of the Siege of Trenzalore. The closer to the events of the siege they can get him at, the more minor the paradox and the less damage the sect will have to clean up afterwards. 
So it makes sense that their initial target is Eleven at the end of season 6 at nearly the last point in his life before he goes to Trenzalore. They’re going to cut his timeline off clean and leave galactic history basically the same other than the siege never happening. 
And it seems like it works. They’re convinced he’s dead. But then they realize he’s still hopping around time and still approaching Trenzalore and they panic and just scrape together what resources they have and without understanding the full consequences, just blow up his Tardis really early in his timeline. Its like the villain in an action movie making that final suicidal attempt to kill the hero with no real plan or genuine expectation of making it out.
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my-dear-the-doctor · 2 days ago
Could I please have a blurb with established 11/River/Reader (they/them if it comes up) that's based on this? Maybe set in a party at the Ponds' house? Pretty please? You can decide who says it
“I’ll probably end up standing uncomfortably in the corner with a plate of food and hope that nobody talks to me.”
A/N: I got one down!! 😂 two more coming “soon”…
The Doctor wasn’t someone you could hide from. He followed you, all throughout the Tardis as you entered room after room, trying to ignore his nagging. “I don’t want to go to some party at the Ponds.”
“Why not!” Once you enter the control room, the Doctor rushes to stand in front of you and you stop in your track. “You love parties!”
You furrow your brows, letting your head tilt as you try and think of the last time you went to a party and enjoyed it. “No, I don’t?”
The Doctor sighs. “Okay, I love parties,” he admits, and you roll your eyes, moving past him to hopefully end the conversation, but the Doctor just follows. “But you have to come with us.”
“You and River can go without me.” You walk around the console, hoping to maneuver out of the Doctor’s following, but instead, you come face to face with River.
Her hands were on her hips, smirking at you as you come to another stop. “We are not going without you, sweetie.”
You frown, moving to lean against the console with your arms crossed. “River, please-“
“Nuh.” She holds up a finger, shooting you a look that politely tells you to shut up. “No, you’re going, I’m going,” she throws her thumb over her shoulder and you glance behind her to see the Doctor smiling and adjusting his bow tie, “ and no one can stop him from going.”
You weren’t getting anywhere with her. Maybe if she knows you won’t be having a fun time? “I’ll probably end up standing uncomfortably in the corner with a plate of food and hope that nobody talks to me.” You release a long, fake sigh, looking away from them both for the dramatics.
River wasn’t having it. She bumps against you as she leans against the console as well, making you roll your eyes and try not to smile when you turn to see the wide one across her face. “Well why don’t I join you then?” She offers and you raise a brow. “ Just River and Y/N.”
“And the Doctor.” River and you look forward to see the Doctor having dashed from his spot, eager to be a part of the conversation again.
“Yes,” River agrees, moving next to him and latching her arm through his, “River, Y/N and their Doctor.”
The Doctor nods along, happy with the idea of spending the evening with his two favorite people. “We’ll be the talk of the party.”
You were breaking. The way they both looked at you, how they looked at each other, silently pleading and yet, their eyes were lined with a fondness you could never say no to. “Alright fine! I’ll go!” You finally give in.
In the next second, you’re pulled close to both of them, the three of you locked in a hug. You relax in their holds, only for a second before River is clapping her hands together and pulling away “Great!”. You frown at the lost of her contact as you mold into the Doctor, watching as she walks towards the door. “Now, grab your jackets sweeties.” She reminds you like she always does as she picks up her own. “It’s cold outside.” The Doctor and you share a look and a hidden smile before racing to get your jackets. Maybe the night won’t be completely bad.
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e-b-e · a month ago
i’m almost bummed that the queen of england didn’t die in like 2014 bc i would’ve love so see some teenagers drawing some doctor who or sherlock characters mourning the queen or some shit- it would’ve been funny as hell
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julielilac · 2 months ago
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The Doctor only have two moods.
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dwgif · 2 months ago
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- So, Time Lords, bit flexible on the whole man/woman thing, then, yeah? - We are the most civilised civilisation in the universe, we’re billions of years beyond your petty human obsession with gender and its associated stereotypes.
🌌 Happy 58th Anniversary, DOCTOR WHO 🌠
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fallenbattlefield · 3 months ago
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auroralomens · 3 months ago
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doctor who + leaning on the fourth wall
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dailydwgifs · 2 months ago
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usermurdocks · 2 months ago
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DOCTOR WHO MEME → episodes [6/15]
5.10 VINCENT AND THE DOCTOR - "So you were right. No new paintings. We didn't make a difference at all." "I wouldn't say that. The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. Hey. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things or make them unimportant. And we definitely added to his pile of good things. And, if you look carefully, maybe we did indeed make a couple of little changes."
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improbabelle · a year ago
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winterswake · 5 months ago
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Two thousand years. The Boy Who Waited. Good on you, mate.
DOCTOR WHO – The Big Bang
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itberice · 25 days ago
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bladesrunner · 2 months ago
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River, they were your parents. I'm sorry, I didn't even think. — It doesn't matter. — Of course it matters.
DOCTOR WHO | 7x05 "The Angels Take Manhattan"
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carricfisher · 5 days ago
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I've seen many things, my friend. But you're right. Nothing quite as wonderful as the things you see.
Doctor Who | Vincent and the Doctor (5.10)
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chewbacca · 5 months ago
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Everyone knows he's a delicate man. Just months from now he'll, he'll take his own life.
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dwgif · 2 months ago
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Time Lords + telepathy/psychic abilities
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